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Once again, it didn’t happen. Despite trying so hard, Yangyang blinks his eyes open from what he realises was a dreamless sleep. He even remains still in his bed, waiting for a few moments and hoping that fragments of a dream will come to him, but nope. He just has to pee real bad.
It’s only just past eight, he sees on his phone, way earlier than he usually gets up. His body must’ve woken him up in order to get him to go to the toilet. But it woke him up in a normal way, sadly, well in time.
Yangyang doesn’t know what he has to do to get another one of those dreams again. One of those where he’s desperately searching for a toilet, and preferably where he finds it.
And he doesn’t, like, want to wet the bed. Just like that first time, he wants to wake up right when he finds it. He wants to wake up and immediately realise he’s about to start pissing, or maybe he’s already let go a bit, a wet spot already in the front of his boxers. And he needs to do everything in his power to stop his bladder from emptying itself completely.
But he hasn’t been able to recreate that one time. He made sure not to use the bathroom before bed, and even jerked off a bit without letting himself come because he thought that maybe it would help, but today again, he just woke up with a pee boner and an incessant ache in his lower stomach.
Yangyang brings one of his hands down to his crotch, palming himself and savouring how sensitive his cock is. He lets his hips thrust up in search for more friction, the distracting touch making it easier to hold, and sighs audibly.
It’s so nice to not have roommates anymore. He couldn’t even do this when Kun and Dejun were in the same room as him, definitely not in the morning when they might be awake. Couldn’t even turn his disappointment around to a satisfying orgasm, just had to deal with it and go to the toilet like normal and then hopefully nap for a few more hours, or sacrifice his sleep and hop in the shower so no one would hear him. But not anymore. Now he can finally treat himself.
Yangyang wonders if maybe, he just doesn’t have to go badly enough yet. If he should’ve had another glass of water before going to sleep, or maybe a beer to sleep a bit deeper. But he has to go too badly now to go back to sleep and try again, he can’t ignore it anymore.
He keeps his hand warm over the length of his dick. Like this, he can almost feel how it would be if he did let go. If he woke up already pissing in the toilet in his dreams, a steady stream escaping from his slit, soaking into his underwear and spreading out hot. He’s never actually pissed himself before, at least not as an adult, but he bets it would feel good. That realisation that he’s already going, that he can’t stop it anymore. That there would be no point in stopping it, because it’s already seeping into the bed below him anyway, the damage has been done, and he just relaxes and lets go completely, shamelessly wetting himself.
Yangyang’s cock keeps twitching, his legs restlessly shifting around. He doesn’t need to keep his gasping down because there’s no one who can hear him, and he eagerly squeezes and rubs himself. Thinking about it, imagining actually doing it, only makes the need more persistent, and it feels so fucking good. He has no idea if it feels this good for everyone, and normal people are just ignoring it, but ever since Yangyang’s found out how fucking horny it makes him, he’s become obsessed with it.
He won’t actually go and wet his bed, though. He has flirted with the thought of ordering some plastic sheets, but that’s too dangerous when anyone could intercept his mail and ask questions about it. And just letting his sleeping pad get wet is not the way to go either, when he doesn’t know how to get it clean by himself, and he isn’t really up for sleeping in a wet and smelly bed, or asking anyone else to help him. If it was a genuine accident then okay, it’s an accident, but if it’s after deliberately pissing himself, Yangyang doesn't think he could ask.
But that doesn’t mean that he can’t let go a little bit. He can feel just how full his bladder is, he can feel where his pee is pressing at the base of his cock, desperate to break free. And he knows so well how good it feels, that hint of relief.
A little bit won't be a problem. Lying on his back like this, his underwear will soak it up. Yangyang throws the blanket off himself and lies back, forcing himself to remain still for a moment. It's a lot harder than he thought, though, because the moment he relaxes a little bit, his body wants to go all out, he can feel it, and he knows that if he relaxes just a bit too much, his bladder will let everything go.
But that's what makes it even hotter to him, even more exciting. It's so wrong, part of his brain keeps shouting, to just lie here and wet himself, and that makes him want to do it even more.
And he doesn't even need to try. Simply thinking about it makes him even more desperate, and without having to force anything, a tiny leak escapes from his bladder.
It's nothing much, no more than a few drops, but he could feel the way they travelled through his dick, leaking hot from his slit and mixing with his precum, and it did not go on for nearly long enough to offer any kind of relief, but it felt so fucking good and he shudders through clenching and making his body contain the rest. When he feels like he can move again, Yangyang pushes himself up on one elbow to look down at his crotch. The dark spot is obvious, and warm under his fingertips, and Yangyang gasps when he rubs his dick through the wet cotton.
He can't enjoy it, moving his hand to grab his cock tightly again. The stimulation on his glans makes him want to pee even more, and if he continues he knows he'll get too desperate and too lost in pleasure to stop.
But it's so good. The perverse thrill of it makes him not want to stop. He could get up and get in the shower but it's just not the same. He looks around his room searching for something he could use, before catching himself and realising he's really, on purpose, looking for a place to piss that's not the toilet bowl or the drain or some place outside where it doesn't matter.
But actually, why would it matter inside. This is his own bedroom, he can do whatever he wants. And it's just pee, anyway.
His gaze falls on the trash can, near his desk. It's definitely an option, if he was actually so desperate and nearly bursting and there was no other option, he would choose that. But it's one of those open ones, metal netting, and sure, there's a plastic bag lining it, but he would have to be certain, before doing anything, that the bag doesn't have any holes. Because he doesn't want to have to mop the floor either.
But close to his desk is another option, discarded over the back of his chair yesterday after his shower: a towel. And it's just a small one, that he used for his hair because it takes so long to dry nowadays, but it will work. And it's always been a really hot idea to him, having to go so badly in a place without bathrooms and there's nothing but a towel to push against his crotch and soak up the piss.
Yangyang jumps out of bed, and immediately regrets the sudden move, because he just felt all the liquid in his bladder move with him. But he's fine, it's not that bad yet. Just a bit of squeezing his muscles and dancing around and he's good to go again, grabbing the towel and folding it a few times before placing it on his bed.
He kneels over it, and tries to come up with a situation. It can't be at home, there are too many better options, but maybe in a car, stuck in traffic, or whatever, in a locked practice room and there's no way to get out, and he needs to go, now. And it's embarrassing, humiliating probably, there are members around, and of course, they've seen or heard him piss before, but that was in the toilet, not like this. So he tries to avoid it as long as he can, hoping that a miracle happens and he doesn't need to use the towel because he can actually go to a restroom, but he's moving nonstop, clenching his thighs and grabbing his dick tightly to try and keep his urine inside. And it's futile, he's already leaking. The wet spot in his boxers is getting bigger, hot liquid seeping from his pee hole.
He wouldn't even have time to get his underwear out of the way, when he'd realise he really couldn't wait any longer. Unable to stop moving, or leaking, for even a second, he'd pull his dick from the fly of his boxers, and pathetically let go and relieve himself on the towel.
In his bedroom, Yangyang has nothing to be embarrassed about and no one to see him. After one spurt he decides to stop it, flexing his entire body and grabbing himself tight, and it feels so good. He can still feel all the piss left inside his bladder pushing to get out, even more desperately than before, and his cock throbs so deliciously.
His pee has already soaked into the towel, leaving the middle slightly dented and dark, and Yangyang lowers himself until he's sitting on the edge of it, his legs folded along the side. And since there's no one here to see him anyway, he just goes for it, pressing his cock down onto the soft, moist fabric and humping his own piss stain, so warm and gross and good.
Why has he never thought of doing this before? This beats jerking his pissing cock under the running shower by miles. Yangyang wraps his already wet fingers around himself and focuses on his cockhead, sliding his foreskin over his glans until the tingling at the base of his cock gets too bad and another spurt of piss comes out, a bit too forceful and overshooting the towel until he can aim and then force it to stop, shuddering and gasping through it.
Just a few drops should dry on his bed just fine, so Yangyang doesn't bother with it. Somewhere in the back of his head he knows he would care if he wasn’t thinking with his dick right now, but, well, he is, and it feels too good to even consider stopping. He’s so hard, throbbing and desperate for relief, and he keeps forcing more spurts out, feeling them move through his urethra and spill over his fingers, just to clamp down and stop it immediately after, drawing it out as long as he can.
Thankfully, he’s not fully lost in it yet. Because if he was, he wouldn’t have noticed that his piss is starting to create a puddle on the blanket, no longer getting soaked up into it immediately, and with a slight hint of panic flashing through him, Yangyang starts to fold the towel in itself and turn it around but that’s only barely helping. And then he notices something that’s even worse, and the sense of panic is getting a lot more tangible now, because his dick keeps leaking. The towel is saturated, and his bed is about to get drenched, and his dick keeps leaking and no matter how hard Yangyang clenches, he can’t seem to stop it anymore.
Fuck, fuck, this is not how it was supposed to go. Frantically, Yangyang tries to get the dry edges of the towel to soak up whatever’s leaking out and dripping down, and when it doesn’t end he presses it tightly against his crotch. He’s definitely not relaxing his bladder, absolutely not trying to piss. It isn’t even much, just a small trickle, but he just cannot control it. And he realises, with unnerving calmth, that he’s fucked. This is it, this is his limit, he played with fire and he lost and now he’s going to wet his bed.
The moment passes quickly, thank god, as he keeps squeezing and clamping down tight and keeping his fingers wrapped around his dickhead to help physically keep his piss from spilling. The bathroom is right across the hallway, there’s no way he’s going to give in now. He’s not that weak, and really doesn't want to soil the bed he needs to sleep in.
Painstakingly slowly and completely tense, but without giving up all control over his bladder, he manages to get up and out of bed. He grabs the towel to press against himself again, to help hide his wet underwear, to cover his straining erection from anyone who might be outside of his bedroom, but most importantly for ever so slightly alleviating pressure on his dick and to stop his piss from dripping down onto the dorm floor.
He has to shuffle to the door, bent over and with his thighs squeezed together, but he gets there and his bladder still hasn’t decided to release itself all over the floor and his smiley carpet (although that one is already yellow so maybe it wouldn’t have been a big problem), and Yangyang gains some confidence from it. He’s going to make it. He can feel hot drops of piss running down his balls and gathering in the cotton of his boxers underneath, undoubtedly going to roll down his thighs soon, but it’s only a few steps left. He can make it.
He braces himself, sucking in a breath of air and standing up straight and forcing himself to be still so he looks as normal as possible, and opens the door, not looking anywhere and just marching straight to the bathroom.
And stupidly, ironically, or maybe just to fuck with him, the moment he closes the bathroom door and can celebrate that he made it, onto easily cleanable tiles at least, the need is gone. Out of nowhere, or maybe from moving around, or maybe simply because he already leaked enough to take the edge off, but he's not uncontrollably shaking his leg or squeezing his butt anymore, and his bladder is definitely still full, but the liquid inside doesn't threaten to burst out anymore.
Well, then. Yangyang is actually not upset at it. He's happy with it, even. Because despite his fantasies turning him on and getting him off faster than anything, he's realised just now that his bladder bursting for real is actually not that hot to him, the panicked distress taking the upper hand.
And now he's also got plenty of time to decide what he wants to do next. Because the dam not breaking means he's still got a full, throbbing bladder to play with, and he's safely in the bathroom now, where any leakage is of no problem at all.
First the towel he's still holding, though. It's soaked and stinky with his morning piss, and Yangyang has been hearing it drip onto the floor, but he can't leave it in the laundry bin like this. Even if no one could prove that it was him, it's just not right. He should rinse it first.
So he tosses it onto the shower floor. And he peels his wet boxers off, and tosses them next to it. The feeling of pressure is already starting to return, and uninhibited, Yangyang sways around a bit, moving in a languid pee dance. His dick is still standing stiff and proud, and a drop of piss swings from the edge of his foreskin. Yangyang should remember to wipe the floor once he's done.
But for now he's got all the time in the world, Ten and Kun are rarely up this early. He reaches for the empty glass at the sink and fills it, chugging it in one go. They always say it's good to hydrate yourself in the morning, right? Yangyang thinks they do. Anyway, it can't be bad, for sure. Yangyang knows you can drink too much water, but he's pretty sure he's nowhere near that point.
And he takes a good look at himself in the mirror. Standing on his toes he can see his lower stomach in the frame, taut and distended with all the liquid he's been keeping inside. He gently rubs his hand over it, turning to see it from different angles. It doesn't really do anything to him, but it's cool to see anyway.
Naturally, his hand gravitates further down, to the place where he wants it the most. He does it slowly, teasing himself a little, sliding the loose ring of his fingers down his cock, and his hips thrust forward, in search of more. The harsh exhale from his nose is too loud for the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles, and Yangyang refrains from doing anything else for now.
He could, though. He's been so horny, and his full bladder is intensifying everything. He knows that if he went for it, he'd probably come within a minute. Could even do it right here, in front of the mirror, and if he starts leaking more than just precum along the way, or his muscles finally lose strength after nutting, he could just piss in the sink.
He stares at his reflection, pupils blown and lips bitten red and his gaze infused with need. It makes him curious, at the very least. But it's also a bit weird, probably, jerking off to your own mirror image. And Yangyang already has one weird thing to be into, he's very well aware as he's been starting to squirm again, moving from one foot to the other. He'd better not add more to the list.
He drinks one more glass of water, slightly cooling his overheated body from inside out as it moves down his throat and swirls in his stomach, and steps away from the sink to get into the shower.
It still hasn't become as bad again as when he couldn't stop himself from leaking. Maybe he needs to wait for the water he just drank to pass through his system, because with two extra glasses his bladder will no doubt be overflowing. But Yangyang has no idea how fast his kidneys work, and this is all turning into one long edging session, and he's never been the most patient.
So he's not going to wait until he bursts (again), fuck that. He had plenty fun and it felt plenty good when he was testing his control by pissing on that towel, and here he will be free from his newly unlocked fear of accidentally losing control in a place where he shouldn't, so he's just gonna go for it.
But despite himself, like really, he really isn't doing it on purpose at all, his brain conjures up new imaginary situations for him to be losing bladder control in. Something about it is just so good to him, the idea that you're so desperate that you can’t wait to get to a toilet, that despite your best efforts, your body just takes over and gives in. But mainly the idea, he’s discovered now.
He eyes the towel, a dark, bunched up pile on the shower floor, and steps a bit closer to it. In his mind, he's in some closed space again, with others around and he does not want any of them to notice him. Maybe it's the locked practice room from earlier, maybe with all of nct to make it even worse. And he's hidden behind some kind of folding screen and he knows he won't make it and his bladder is moments away from giving in, he can either whip his dick out and piss here in this corner and keep some of his dignity, or he's going to wet his pants. But the thing is, if his piss splatters down onto the vinyl floor, it's going to be so fucking obvious. So the only option he has is to very carefully relieve himself on this abandoned towel.
Yangyang is completely invested in the story, careful not to get caught but so close to bursting that he can't move with care anymore, when something yanks him right out of it.
“Yangyang,” comes Kun's voice, the real Kun, from right outside the bathroom door, sounding like he’s about to start nagging at him. “Are you doing that piss thing again?”
Yangyang's stomach drops, his whole body freezing up, thankfully in such a way that it keeps his piss inside. “What?” he tries to laugh, because that's ridiculous, he would never do such a thing, and how the fuck does Kun know. “What are you talking about?”
But it doesn't end there. No, it gets even worse, Yangyang has no idea what he's done to deserve this, but before Kun can answer, there's Ten's voice as well, lightweight and almost playful. “What piss thing?”
Yangyang thinks he can vaguely hear Kun say something like, “I don't know, ask him yourself”, but he's not paying attention to that because Ten is right there outside of that door right now, and on a good day Yangyang can barely control the way he reacts to Ten’s everything, but right now, in his excessively turned on state of mind, it’s absolute horny hell. He doesn't know if he can get any harder but his cock is sure trying its best, throbbing painfully with all the blood that's collected in it.
“Yangyang,” Ten drawls, now speaking to him directly, apparently. “What are you doing?”
“Literally nothing,” he tries to say, and he hasn't come up with any alibi yet but he doesn't even need to, a man can spend time in the bathroom of the place he lives in for literally any reason at all. But he doesn't even get to say more, because the door is opening, the door is fucking opening, in his desperation Yangyang never locked it, and Ten is stepping inside.
Yangyang has just enough presence of mind left to turn away from Ten so he won't see Yangyang's boner, at least. “Bro what the fuck! Like, what are you doing!”
“I just want to know what you are doing.” Yangyang can hear the teasing smile in his voice, but he's not looking back to face Ten, instead trying to continue breathing while he’s losing his mind. “What piss thing?”
“I'm—I was just showering! Don't listen to Kun. Can you like, leave me alone?” To top off his distress, Yangyang's bladder gives another lurch, and he can't do his pee dance right now, he can't even shake his thighs, all he can do is stand stiff with his stomach clenched and hope Ten doesn't notice.
“Why is your towel on the ground?” Ten asks casually, not making any attempts to leave. If he just watched a little more closely, he could see exactly what Yangyang is doing, and Yangyang is so embarrassed and horribly enough, only getting more turned on, feverish under his skin with his heartbeat thrumming through his veins, and a sticky string of precum dangling from the tip of his fat dick.
He knows he can't control his breathing into something normal and relaxed either, but he tries. “I dropped it.”
“And your underwear too?”
“Yeah,” Yangyang forces out. He can't fucking hold it anymore, he needs to shift his weight onto one leg and press his thighs together, and tries to sneak an arm in front of his body without it looking obvious, so he can reach down and squeeze his dick.
Ten doesn't directly respond to him. “It smells kinda like piss in here,” he notes, and Yangyang knows this nonchalance is part of an act. And maybe Ten already knows. Maybe Yangyang gave himself away, or maybe Ten already knew when he was still standing in the hallway because he seems to be blessed with an innate ability to see straight through Yangyang. Yangyang is about to lose it, in more ways than one, and Ten is here in the bathroom with him, fully aware and making fun of it.
Fuck it, Yangyang thinks, because he really, really needs to do something. If Ten knows anyway he can just grab his cock freely, moving around again to ease the pressure and make it just a bit more bearable.
He doesn't know what the fuck Ten is doing, what he's thinking, if he knows how much he's burning Yangyang up, but better than Yangyang's wildest, guiltiest dreams, Ten steps into the shower as well, Yangyang can see his bare feet, coming up behind him.
And Yangyang realises he hasn’t said anything back to Ten, too preoccupied with the exhilaration his body is currently going through, his bladder throbbing and his cock throbbing and his breath stuck in his chest. But it doesn't even feel like there's anything he can do, he can only subject himself to it.
Ten’s toes nudge the towel that is soaked with Yangyang's urine, he's really touching it, with his bare skin, doesn't even know what he's touching—“Did you piss on this?” Ten asks, and Yangyang whimpers before can stop it, cowering and legs losing strength and his pelvic muscles nearly faltering.
“Of course I didn't,” he mutters, way too late to be natural, but why is he still trying when Ten already knows, anyway. He can’t think at all anymore.
He jumps when arms touch him from behind, wrapping around him, Ten stepping close to him. “It's already soaked, and you still have to go so badly,” Ten says close to his ear, sending shivers up his spine that make him squirm even more desperately. Ten is accusing him, confirming that he's aware of Yangyang's secret activities. His hands move to Yangyang’s swollen lower stomach, and another high pitched whimper escapes Yangyang’s throat. “You have to piss so badly. Were you waiting for me to come in?”
“No—” Yangyang stutters, “I was—gonna do it alone.” His bladder is straining, just like Ten said he wants to pee so fucking badly, but he also wants to come, too, he wants to get off, he needs to—
“Take your hand off,” Ten orders, pushing at the hand Yangyang keeps clasped around himself, and Yangyang feels like he might combust for real.
“Can't,” he forces out, shaking, his whole body tense. “‘M gonna pee.”
But Ten is unrelenting, showing no mercy with his sneering tone. “Isn't that what you wanted to do?”
Well, yeah. It was, but not like this, and definitely not with Ten holding his dick, while making sure that Yangyang knows he’s making fun of Yangyang’s gross little habits. And yet, even though he’s trembling and his body is jerking uncontrollably trying to restrain his bladder, he finds himself taking his hand away so Ten’s can take its place
Yangyang tries his hardest to stifle a moan and fails miserably when Ten wraps his fingers around Yangyang's painfully touch-starved cock. He's on fire inside his skin, staring down at Ten's hands on him, and he can feel Ten's naked chest against his back and his chin resting on Yangyang's shoulder and Yangyang's brain has short-circuited long ago, engulfed in the flames that consume him.
Ten pulls Yangyang's foreskin back, and aims his rock hard erection down as best as he can. “Come on, pee.”
But Yangyang fucking can’t. He’s not entirely sure if he really wants to, it’s already embarrassing enough as it is, but even as he thinks he's relaxing, finally unclenching, his bladder remains painfully tight and full and his cock twitches desperately and Yangyang feels delirious with arousal. “I can't,” he moans.
“You can't?” Ten pushes his free hand down onto Yangyang's bulging belly. Yangyang whimpers freely now, his knees unsteady and his legs restless and the need to pee so urgent it hurts, and Ten presses down a little harder. “I'm sure you can.”
Yangyang doesn't mean to. He doesn't mean to do anything, but he can't stop his hips from thrusting forward, trying to fuck the circle of Ten's fingers. Words and sounds keep spilling from his lips now, and all he can think of is how he really can't hold it any longer. But still, nothing comes out. “I'm too hard, hyung, I can't—”
“I know you can,” Ten says, and his words should be an affirmation, a kind consolation to Yangyang, but their tone just burns him up instead. Ten sounds almost condescending, like he's seen Yangyang play like this before, and he knows Yangyang should have no trouble with it.
And Yangyang continues spiralling, his body shouting all kinds of signals at him, strained and spread thin and overstimulated until it becomes too much to handle. Yangyang knows this is it, he's at his absolute limit, he's gonna—
He comes untouched, shooting at the wall and dripping down onto the floor, splatters on the dark towel, white hot pleasure blazing through him. Ten's hand has dissipated, along with the rest of him, fragments of a horny fantasy leaving Yangyang alone in the shower, catching his loud breath, his chest heaving and his cock still hard.
That’s a first, for him, and Yangyang is both amazed and excited. Coming from his imagination alone, and from the frenzy that holding his pee sent him in. He didn’t even know he could. And as he comes down, it slowly comes back to him, that nagging need in his lower stomach. His bladder is still overfull, begging for release, and Yangyang grabs his cock eagerly.
He still has to pee. He just came, the aftermath of his climax continuing to ripple through him, but he still has to empty his bladder, he still gets to go through that intense, all-encompassing release. He's already shuddering in anticipation.
It's still hard for some reason, he actually needs to close his eyes to focus, breathe in and breathe out and finally, finally let go of the tension in his muscles.
It starts with a few stray drops, he can feel them, tingling as they’re moving from his bladder through his cock, soon joined by a steady trickle. It drips down onto the floor and Yangyang dares to open his eyes now, aims down at the towel, and just lets go.
It's the best thing he's felt in ages, way better than any orgasm. His thick, strong stream gushes out, hitting the towel with such force it just bounces back on Yangyang's feet and legs, on the walls, everywhere, but Yangyang really doesn't care. He leans against the wall with his free arm, all his muscles exhausted now from the work they had to do, and he knows he's moaning but he doesn't bother keeping it down, the sound of his piss pouring out of him will cover it up.
He doesn't know how long it keeps going, but it's absolutely a lot, and it feels so good to finally let it all go. No wonder his bladder felt like bursting. It's pooling hot around his feet, the puddle taking up the entire shower floor and disappearing into the drain, and he's still going. He's almost done now, though, he thinks, forcing the last bits out in spurts until they're just small trickles, and his bladder keeps pulsing even after he's definitely empty, like the aftershocks of the most relieving orgasm ever. Yangyang presses his forehead against the cold tiles, just taking in the intense, long-awaited relaxation washing over him.
Shit, that felt good. He doesn't know how long he's been standing there, his softening cock still in his hand, but that's okay because he has all the time to bask in it.
He should do this more often. This was so much better than any of those other times. He still feels shaky, shuddery, his cock throbbing a bit and he knows he's gonna keep feeling this for a while. And it's already turning him on again, the thought of his cock being so sensitive in a new way, and also, the thought of him making use of it.
Yangyang reaches for the shower head. If he rinses off quickly now, he can get back to bed and enjoy the rest of his morning.