Title: Hold it
Author: ravenclawsquill
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Omorashi (bladder desperation kink)
Other Warnings/Content: Dom/sub relationship (dom!Draco, sub!Harry), anal fingering, accidental wetting, semi-deliberate wetting
Word Count: 1,685
Summary/Description:
Draco quickly tries to suppress his thoughts: it’s too filthy, too taboo. Everything they’ve done – public sex, role play, even their recent success explorations into the world of BDSM – all of it pales in comparison to this.
Author's Notes:
This is far and away the kinkiest thing I’ve ever written, but where better to go to town on kink than here? I should say that despite the omorashi theme, this fic is far more focused on the dom/sub relationship than traditional “watersports”. Thank you ever so much to my beta, ruinsplume, for the thorough review and excellent suggestions.




Draco startles when when Harry finally bursts through the living room Floo. He’s far later than usual; it’s almost nine o’clock.

“Back at last?” Draco asks as he sets his book down on the coffee table. “How did it go?”

Harry grimaces. “It was a nightmare. Jones owled in sick, so I’ve been stuck doing surveillance by myself all day with nobody to take over. I’ve been dying for a piss since lunch time!”

Harry shrugs off his Auror cloak as he goes on, giving a rushed summary of twelve uneventful hours spent tailing a suspected dragon egg dealer, but Draco doesn't take in a word of it.

He’s registered Harry’s awkward stance: bent forward slightly, almost imperceptibly, shifting from foot to foot every couple of seconds.

Draco can't help it. A frisson of interest pulses through him as one of his deepest, darkest fantasies leaps up, demanding attention.

He quickly tries to suppress his thoughts: it’s too filthy, too taboo. Everything they’ve done – public sex, role play, even their recent explorations into the world of BDSM – all of it pales in comparison to this. It makes Draco’s insides writhe with desire and shame to even think of it. But even so, he can't help but think of it; of Harry’s turgid bladder, heavy and full, aching for release… how overcome he must be by the primal need to relieve himself.

The small voice in the back of Draco’s mind can't be ignored; it demands that he take advantage of the situation. But how? They've discussed it before, but only once… and only after far too much firewhisky. He doubts Harry even remembers the conversation.

Draco’s frantic scheming is interrupted when Harry suddenly pauses mid-sentence and bends over, clutching his crotch.

“Shit—hang on, I'll tell you the rest after I’ve been to the loo,” he groans. When he stands again, it’s to make a dash down the hallway for the bathroom.

Draco takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. “I think you should hold it,” he calls out to Harry’s retreating back.

Harry freezes. Several unbearable seconds pass before he turns. “What?”

Draco’s stomach is doing somersaults, but he manages to keep his voice steady as he replies. “I said, I think you should hold it.”

Harry looks confused for a moment before understanding flickers in his eyes, followed almost immediately by a look of panic. “Maybe another time, yeah? It's been a really long day and I really need to go.”

Draco clears his throat. He can't let this opportunity slip away. When he speaks, it’s in his most commanding voice – the tone he only uses when he plays Master. “Are you disobeying an order?”

Harry gapes. He casts a longing look over his shoulder at the bathroom door, then turns his attention back to Draco, swallowing hard as he makes his decision. “No… sir.”

Draco’s elation is accompanied by a heady surge of adrenaline. “Good. Now come back over here.”

Harry does, his discomfort obvious as he walks awkwardly back into the living room. Draco can barely contain his excitement, but he does his best to maintain a calm mask of composure.

“Strip,” he orders. “It’ll help to take the pressure off.”

For a moment, Harry looks as if he’s going to refuse, but then he starts to unbutton his shirt. He strips slowly, hopping from one foot to the other and pausing several times to bend over. He’s biting his lip by the time he’s finally naked, and it doesn’t escape Draco’s notice that he still isn’t standing completely straight.

“Better?” Draco murmurs.

“A bit.” Harry’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Now stand still,” Draco tells him. “Let me look at you.”

He makes a show of looking Harry up and down, pretending not to notice Harry’s shallow breaths or the way it’s clearly taking every shred of his self-control not to squirm on the spot. Draco’s head spins as he sees that Harry isn't exaggerating how badly he needs the loo. His usually flat stomach is distended, a round bulge standing proud between his hip bones.

Arousal twists sharply in the pit of Draco’s stomach. He reaches out in awe to run his fingertips lightly over the bulge, feeling how firm it is to touch. It feels almost solid, much harder than Draco expected. He can’t resist taking matters further: he prods sharply at it, drawing a gasp from Harry’s lips.

“Fuck! Do you want me to piss myself?” Harry hisses, jerking out of Draco’s reach.

Yes, Draco thinks. “Why? Are you struggling already?” he asks. He’s aiming for a coolly detached tone, but he’s sure Harry can hear his voice shaking. Then again, it’s possible that Harry’s so focused on the relentless urge to piss that he hasn’t registered it.

Harry nods frantically, his expression pained. “You know I am.”

It’s exactly what Draco wants to hear.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commands, in a rough voice that barely sounds like his own.

“Draco, you can't… I can barely hold it as it is!” Harry protests, breaking his silence, but it’s half-hearted at best and it only takes a stern look from Draco before he complies. He moves slowly, groaning as every movement strains his swollen bladder even further.

When he’s finally in position, Draco takes a moment to look at him. He’s rocking back and forth in absolute desperation, his half-hard cock hanging between his legs. It’s no surprise that he can't manage a full erection – he’s far too consumed by the need to piss.

Draco, meanwhile, has no such issue. He’s so hard his prick aches, and the urge to unfasten his trousers and touch it is almost unbearable. If he thought Harry could hold on just a little a bit longer, he’d succumb and wank right now. As things stand, though, the urgency is too great; Draco wants to enjoy it while he can.

He summons a bottle of lube from their bedroom, then drops to his knees beside Harry. He runs his fingernails lightly along Harry’s spine, finishing at the nape of his neck. “If you can hold it for just ten more minutes, you’ll be rewarded. Do you think you can be good?”

“I—I don’t know,” Harry whispers. “It’s just—”

His words are lost to a sharp intake of breath as Draco slicks his fingers and runs them lightly between Harry’s arse cheeks, exposing him. Draco doesn’t hesitate once he reaches Harry’s hole: he pushes gently against it with the tip of his forefinger. This is no time for teasing.

Harry pushes back against him, accepting the breach, though it’s clear from the tension in the muscles of his back that his thoughts are firmly fixed on his bladder. Draco’s all too aware that every second counts.

Draco stretches Harry quickly, adding a second finger as soon as he feels he can get away with it. Then, without warning, he curves them downwards, nudging the familiar ridge of Harry’s prostate.

“Nnngh—no! Fuck!”

Draco feels Harry clamp down around his fingers, squeezing so tightly it’s almost painful. It’s only when he sees a splash of liquid on the floor that he realises Harry’s leaked.

A rush of heat shoots through Draco’s veins. With his free hand, he reaches under Harry’s stomach and pushes up against the bulge, forcing out another spurt. “Fucking hell, Harry…”

Harry whimpers and turns his head to look at Draco, his cheeks burning crimson.

It's brilliant, but it’s not enough: Draco wants to see a total loss of control. He wants to watch Harry piss himself all over the living room floor. He sets to work with his left hand, pressing and kneading Harry’s tortured bladder, whilst picking up the relentless rubbing of Harry’s prostate with his right.

It only takes a few seconds for his efforts to pay off.

Despite Harry’s clenched muscles, a third jet of piss escapes, only this time, he can't stop it. He struggles frantically for a few seconds, gasping and groaning, before finally giving up.

It’s better than Draco could have imagined. He sees the exact moment where Harry stops fighting for control and allows his body to take over; watches the muscles of Harry’s shoulders relax in defeat.

“Can’t—can’t stop it, so sorry,” he gasps, screwing his eyes shut in humiliation as a puddle begins to form beneath him.

“Don't be,” Draco chokes out. All other words fail him as he watches the scene unfold.

Harry shudders with pleasure, his whole body shaking from the combined sensations of Draco’s fingers inside him and the overwhelming relief as he allows his bladder to empty onto the polished floorboards.

The puddle grows steadily, inching outwards across the polished floorboards until the knees of Draco’s trousers are soaked, and still Harry’s stream continues.

Draco’s fingers eventually falter as he watches, slack-jawed, barely daring to blink. He can't believe how much Harry was holding; he must have been absolutely bursting.

They’re both panting when Harry finally finishes; Harry from relief, Draco from unrestrained arousal.

Their breathing gradually returns to normal and a long silence stretches out between them. When Harry makes no effort to move, Draco realises it’s up to him to bring them back to normality.

“That was unbelievable,” he murmurs as he gently slips his fingers out of Harry’s arse. It’s a comment he often makes after sex, but today he means it with an entirely new sincerity.

Draco’s mind races when Harry fails to reply. Even more pressing than his own need to come is the need to find a distraction before Harry’s feelings of shame can fully set in.

“Come on,” he says, climbing unsteadily to his feet. He’s still unbearably hard. “I need you to fuck me in the shower.”

That does the trick. Harry blinks, as if he’s waking from a trance. “Yeah?”

Draco nods. “Yes. And you know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Harry scrambles up, his embarrassment temporarily forgotten, his pained expression replaced by a broad grin. He takes Draco’s hand in his as they half-drag each other to the bathroom, leaving the mess behind them.