Chapter Text
"Still hard at work, I see," Qifrey said as a chipper greeting when he nudged Olruggio's door open with his hip, careful not to spill the cup of tea he held in his hand. Olly spared him only a brief glance and a mumbled something, his pen hovering over the ever-growing stack of spell sketches that he'd been fussing over all day. Clearly whatever contraption he was working on was giving him trouble, as evidenced by the tension in his grip and his furrowed brows.
Qifrey set the tea down on the edge of the desk, taking the empty mug from earlier in its place. He knew his dearest friend's habits all too well: when he was focused Olly all but forgot the world around him and his body's needs. If there was a drink near him, he would habitually drink. If you handed him a plate of food, he would eat. Otherwise, he'd forget entirely about hunger or thirst until it hit him with a vengeance all at once.
Of course, this also applied to trips to the washroom, Qifrey knew, and his pulse quickened at the thought. As far as Qifrey was aware, Olruggio hadn't so much as moved from his desk in a few hours, and he'd been steadily drinking whatever his companion brought. Surely by now he would be feeling the weight of his bladder if he weren't so absolutely consumed by the spell in front of him.
Guilt was in equal measure to the arousal the image of Olruggio desperate to piss inspired in Qifrey. It was wrong of him, he knew, to have this sort of ulterior motive in ensuring his beloved Watchful Eye stayed hydrated. It was especially wrong of him to secretly get off while fantasizing about Olly pissing himself. Still, selfishly, this wasn't the first time he did this. There was a certain pace to his refreshment deliveries that was just spaced out enough to avoid disrupting Olruggio's focus that resulted in an excruciating desperation for relief and Qifrey had been working to perfect it.
In a twisted way, it felt good to have a secret that was so mundane in the grand scheme of things. He knew if Olly ever found out he would indulge Qifrey anyway; it wouldn't make him stop, but the way he was taking advantage of that endless kindness sent his stomach churning with shame.
Another hour passed before Qifrey dared to peek into Olruggio's workshop again, though this time he was careful to only look through the gap from the slightly ajar door. He didn't want to actually disrupt the other man, just to check on him.
Just to steal a glimpse of Olruggio's leg bouncing beneath his desk, of the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.
Not thirty minutes later, Qifrey heard the sound of urgent footsteps coming down the catwalk from Olly's workshop. He set down the dish he'd been washing, knowing what that signalled. Olruggio was finally giving in, so desperate to piss it was impossible to ignore. Qifrey felt heat pooling in his belly that made him wish he could tear off his robes and stick his hand between his legs right then and there. Instead, he crept as quiet as he could around the corner, and when he heard the washroom door practically slamming shut he inhaled deeply and with a red face pressed his ear to the door.
Qifrey held his breath, not daring to move. His body was hot and he felt both sick to his stomach with guilt and so turned on he was a slave to his own desire. The heavy wooden barrier between them muffled the sound, but not so much that he couldn't make out the shuffling of skirts, the beautiful sigh of relief Olruggio let out, then the faint hiss when he finally got relief from the pressure Qifrey had helped instill in him.
Each passing second that he could hear Olly pissing drove Qifrey more and more mad with need. It went on for a full minute before the force that made his stream audible died down, and the moment he collected himself Qifrey hurried back toward his own bedroom. He absolutely couldn't let himself be spotted now when he was sure his forehead had a sheen of sweat and he was all but panting from the heat of the moment.
His mind was a mess of fantasies when he collapsed on his bed, hastily shedding layers until his slick thighs were bared to the cool air of the room. Olruggio's golden stream soaking into his skirts when he put off going to the toilet just a bit too long; Olruggio filling a flagon to the brim with his piss; Olruggio catching Qifrey in his sick little spying game and emptying his aching bladder on his twisted companion since he craved it so badly. Fingers circled his throbbing clit with a desperate need.
Qifrey didn't last long, clamping a hand over his mouth to quiet the choked sound he let out when he came over his other hand and left his sheets wet with his release. In a moment, he knew he would be overcome by the disgust he'd tamped down thus far, and he'd clean himself up before probably needing a stiff drink just to clear his mind of the guilt.
For now, though, he let himself enjoy that brief respite from the hollowness in his core, riding out the all-too-fleeting pleasure with unsteady, heaving breaths.