Chapter Text
Mycroft was awoken to the feeling of a draft, a sudden but slight drop in temperature and movement about him. In the few seconds it took to leave behind the vague dreams he’d been having he realised what was happening. Greg had very gently removed the adult nappy that Mycroft had given a thorough soaking the night before, and was in the process of wiping him down with some wipes. Mycroft flushed. Greg, whilst very accepting of Mycroft’s unconventional stress management, was usually a spectator. Which Mycroft had felt was more than he could have asked for. He was always surprised on those occasions where Greg would involve himself. He realised, in a vague moment of consideration, that Greg’s involvement had been growing steadily in the month since Mycroft had revealed himself.
'Morning beautiful, sorry, should have let you sleep, just thought I'd…' he trailed off looking suddenly unsure of himself.
'That's very kind, you really didn't have to,'
'No, I know. I just figured, since it was your day off, I'd sorta treat you a bit. Lift up,' Greg patted his hip and slipped an unfolded nappy beneath him.
'It may need to be a little higher,' Mycroft said gently.
'Right, yep' Greg shimmied the back higher up beneath Mycroft and then began to pull the front up. He fumbled a little, but quite quickly and with little guidance, the padding was taped securely in place.
'I'd normally go for a pull up, were I to wear during the day, …a little more discreet.'
'S'alright. We're just having a day in, don't need discreet. Wanted you to feel all comfy and relaxed yeah?'
'Thank you, erm… I need to…' his eyes dropped to his fresh nappy and his cheeks flushed.
'Oh, yeah, go ahead'
There was an awkward pause. Mycroft began to wee, the wet heat spreading from where the tip of his cock pressed against the padding, slightly to the left and quickly expanded out, wetting the front of the nappy and trickling down his bum to soak the back as he neared the end of his wee. Mycroft’s eyes looked at Greg, and saw him staring intently at the nappy, one of his hands holding Mycroft’s knee.
Sensing eyes on him, Greg looked at Mycroft who gave him the tiniest little embarrassed smile at the edge of his thin lips. Greg ran his hand gently over Mycroft’s thigh.
“Good boy,”
Mycroft choked awkwardly on a moan, shocked but completely thrilled by the words Greg had uttered. He’d never said that before. Greg’s eyes widened in shock, he seemed to realise what he’d just said and his face was red and his breathing shallow.
Greg tried to speak, Mycroft predicted the word ‘sorry’ to be his next utterance, but then he stopped and his eyes scanned Mycroft intently. His own cheeks, Mycroft knew, also burned red. His eyes wide, his breath shaky and shallow and his tongue unconsciously wetting his lips. He was visibly aroused from being called a good boy and he didn’t entirely know what to do with that new information about himself.
Greg seemed to though. He lowered himself next to Mycroft, slipping a leg over Mycroft’s so his inner thigh pressed onto the nappy and kissed gently at his cheek. Mycroft turned his head and Greg kissed his lips thoroughly, moving so his leg rubbed Mycroft’s nappy. He bucked his hips up into Greg’s leg. They rutted for a while, Mycroft was reassured when he felt Greg’s hard cock pushing into his hip. They moaned gently into messy kisses as their pleasure built steadily.
Mycroft, suddenly overwhelmed by the piss soaked nappy, the friction of Greg’s leg, the gorgeous kisses and the constant echoing of Greg’s words in his head, began to tip into orgasm. His mouth moaned loudly of its own accord and he lost coordination in his kisses. They moved faster against each other and Mycroft’s hips bucked at every press of Greg’s thigh.
Greg’s lips moved to Mycroft’s ear.
“That’s it. Good boy. Come for me”.
Mycroft gasped as he came hard. His come pulsing hard and strong as his body twitched with the overwhelming pleasure.
He vaguely felt Greg’s hand by his hip as he fucked his fist.
“‘Oh fuck, gorgeous. Fuck!”
At first Mycroft couldn’t feel anything, as Greg’s cum splattered onto the tapes of his nappy, then a spurt hit just above the waist band, warm and sticky. Mycroft let out a shuddering breath and Greg slumped against his side.
They lay for some time, catching their breath, spent and still. Greg giggled gently into Mycroft’s neck and Mycroft giggled too.
After pressing a few sweet tender kisses to his neck and cheek, Greg pulled back and sat up. He grabbed the packet of wipes and pulled some free. He bit his lip in a cheeky smile as he wiped up his come from the plastic tabs of the nappy and Mycroft’s tummy. He cleaned himself too and then started to climb from the bed. Mycroft’s hands went to the tabs to begin removing his nappy when Greg’s hands stopped him.
“I’m sure that nappy isn’t full, sweetheart. Let’s change you after breakfast.” Greg’s eyebrows lifted in question, just in case Mycroft wasn’t comfortable with his taking charge.
Mycroft nodded.
“Okay,”
“Good boy”, Greg winked at him.
Mycroft huffed a laugh and moved to the ottoman where his pyjama bottoms were.
They settled at the small breakfast table in the kitchen, toast slathered in jam and Mycroft’s favourite tea pot steaming.
“So, when were you going to reveal that other little kink to me?”
Mycroft inhaled a toast crumb and began to cough. After he caught his breath and took a delicate sip of tea he realised Greg wasn't moving on without an answer.
“I am just as surprised as you are, believe me.”
Greg grinned at him, looking a little smug.
“You’re welcome.”
Mycroft swatted at his arm playfully but smiled back.
“I don’t even know what made me say it, just felt… right I guess. And then the way you moaned and looked all flustered.” Greg’s eyes darkened a little and his hand drifted to Mycroft’s knee beneath the table.
They were washing up together when the familiar pang hit Mycroft. It was the warm water he had his hands plunged in that was causing a sudden desperation. He debated putting on a bit of a show for Greg, but he still didn’t feel quite comfortable with exhibiting himself, still not entirely sure how Greg felt about it. Instead he focused on washing the plates and discreetly did a wee. He could feel it warming where the padding was already quite wet and then spreading to dryer areas, soaking further up his bum and pulling at his hips with increased weight. He shivered slightly as he finished but Greg didn't notice.
Mycroft wiped the surfaces down while Greg finished drying and putting away and the movement created a comforting (albeit squishy) reminder for Mycroft that he was in his safe space, taken care of, he could relax and let go of control for a time. His job was too stressful, much like Greg’s, and the comfort they had found in one another in the last few months had been beyond a dream. Being able to share himself as fully as he had, had been a risk worth taking. He ought to pinch himself, but he daren't risk waking from it.
“Shower?”
Greg’s voice pulled him from his musing and they made their way upstairs, Mycroft conscious that his padded backside was level to Greg’s eyeline as he followed him up the stairs and into his
The en-suite was opulent, everything shined. All the towels were thick and fluffy and white. Sleek toiletries fit in perfectly and it had a lovely citrus scent. Mycroft stood in the middle of the room and took off his soft cotton t-shirt. He could feel the waistband of his now heavy nappy, poking above his pyjama trousers and he blushed.
Greg moved towards him and placed his hands on his hips. He smoothed his hands round to his bum, cupping gently at the edges of the padding. Then he ran his hands round Mycroft’s legs and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers. He dropped the trousers and helped Mycroft step out of them and then inspected the nappy.
“Hmm this looks wetter. Did you have another wee?”
Mycroft nodded at him, a little sheepish.
“When?” Greg asked, grinning a bit as he stood up.
“At the sink, while I washed the plates.”
“I had no idea, you should have told me.”
Mycroft swallowed, “I- well, I wasn’t sure if we were still, if you were comfortable with-“
“Myc, I’m the one who put you in it and told you to leave it on. I spent all of breakfast waiting to tell you you were a good boy for using your nappy.” Greg blushed as he said it, but he held Mycroft’s gaze.
“Oh.”
“Look, the nappy stuff is new to me but it doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it. I worry a bit that I might say the wrong thing or something but I’m not gonna let it stop me from playing along. You’re sexy to me, no matter what you do, but the way you get all soft for me when you’re wearing them, it’s fucking gorgeous!”
Mycroft huffed a small laugh. “Sorry, I just want to be considerate of you Greg, I taught myself long ago that this wasn’t something I could share with someone. I feel like I’m forgetting myself when I do.”
“Then forget yourself darling. Let go and fall apart and let me wrap you up and look after you.”
Mycroft kissed Greg soundly, slowly realising he was still stood in a wet, sticky nappy as a grown adult. The vulnerability made him shiver. Greg cuddled him to his chest.
They pulled apart eventually and Greg tugged his own pyjamas off and chucked everything into the hamper. Then he untaped the nappy and nudged Mycroft’s knees apart so he could pull it through his legs.
It wasn’t completely saturated but it was quite full and Mycroft could see his come glistening on it before Greg rolled it up and put it in the bin.
Mycroft started the shower and they waited a moment for the temperature to settle before they stepped in together under the water. Greg ran his hands over Mycroft and he returned the gesture.
Once the water had rinsed them Mycroft helped Greg with lathering some shampoo and they washed each other's hair.
Mycroft’s body wash smelled of neroli, it was as opulent as the bathroom and the suds were like velvet as Mycroft scrubbed gently at Greg. Once he’d washed him thoroughly and Greg had enjoyed the innocuous touch of Mycroft cleaning his soft cock he stopped Mycroft from beginning to stroke him more purposefully and took the sponge. He rinsed it off and added fresh body wash before starting at Mycroft’s neck and shoulders. He worked steadily, methodically, and Mycroft let him. He did his back, then chest, then legs and feet before returning to his crotch and carefully cleansing every soft expanse, every crease. He kneeled and got Mycroft to widen his stance so he could clean between his legs, taking his balls in hand and rubbing them with his thumb.
Mycroft had been leaning into the spray, sheltering Greg from the water but as Greg gave a slow tug at his balls, Mycroft fell gently sideways into the wall and Greg was under the spray again.
He stood and wiped his eyes and pulled Mycroft close while they rinsed off. He cupped water with his hand and rinsed Mycroft thoroughly. Mycroft leant close and licked kittenishly at his shoulder. Greg shuddered at the feel of his tongue over the bone of his clavicle and responded by taking Mycroft in hand.
He was achingly hard, wonderfully quickly and Greg’s cock was pushing into Mycroft’s tummy. Their respective heights just about allowed for Greg to grasp both of their cocks together, and they both began to fuck Greg’s hand. Mycroft’s hand joined his, rubbing the heads of their cocks.
They kissed lightly, water still cascading over them and Greg brought them to the edge steadily, confidently. He contemplated edging them both a little but he wanted to come, wanted to see Mycroft come and so he tipped his head back and stroked at them in earnest.
Mycroft was sucking on his neck and his long fingers were massaging Greg’s scalp and it was getting too much for Greg now. “That’s it, come for me baby, I want to come with you, baby please, come for d…’
He panted. The word burned in his chest, he’d nearly said it, but he’s not sure he should. He kissed Mycroft instead and Mycroft moaned into his mouth. Then he felt Mycroft's lips moving in a less familiar pattern.
Mycroft didn’t usually talk during sex; he nodded, he guided with his hands or his eyes. If Mycroft did utter anything at all it was usually a short, whispered ‘yes’. If Greg was really working for it, he’d get the most devastatingly posh ‘fuck’, so when Greg pulled away from Mycroft’s lips, he was woefully unprepared for-
“Please, please!”
Greg came hard in his hand, he didn’t even know if Mycroft followed. He was shaking. Mycroft Holmes had just begged to come in Greg’s hand. He savoured it as he came down and indeed found Mycroft’s cock twitching and leaking the last of his come.
Greg breathed hard and prayed to any and all listening deities that the honeymoon period of their relationship would never end and he could continue to enjoy the mind blowing experience of seeing Mycroft do things, say things he never thought he’d say.
Then he thought about the word he nearly uttered, not a word he’s ever thought of saying either. He let the thought wash away with the shower spray and looked at Mycroft. He looked so utterly soft and pliable, his skin a gorgeous pink as Greg reached for the soap to clean them off again. He pressed a kiss to his lips as he leaned to turn off the shower.
He helped Mycroft onto the plushest bath mat known to man and wrapped him tightly, arms and all, in a big white towel. He toweled off himself and then slung his towel back on the rail so that he could dry Mycroft. He rubbed his hair gently, conscious not to tangle the auburn curls and then worked down his body, rubbing vigorously. It made Mycroft teeter slightly as he tried to keep his balance.
As Greg hung the towel on the rail, neatening his own, as he knew Mycroft liked it, he realised Mycroft had moved towards the loo.
‘Hmm I don’t think so sweetheart, that’s not for you today.’
Mycroft faltered and looked at Greg with an almost unreadable expression. Then Greg realised he was looking at a very grateful and rather shy Mycroft Holmes and started to appreciate what kind of a week he’d probably had. Mycroft didn’t usually indulge for so long.
Greg took his hand and stood him by the bed before retrieving a pull up from the under bed box. He let Mycroft step into it and pulled it up, inspecting it as Mycroft did to ensure the leak guards would work.
“There you go darling, you can go now.”
Greg looked expectantly and Mycroft chuckled gently as he released the rather low volume of pee from his bladder.
Greg seemed to realise after a beat, “Well at least I don’t need to change you yet” and turned to get some clothes from the few drawers Mycroft had arranged for him.
Mycroft also moved to get dressed, forgoing boxers and wearing some of his comfiest trousers, still wanting to dress well even on a Sunday. He also realised he was smiling.
’Fancy a walk today? Greg’s eyes had a familiar glint.
Mycroft eyed him suspiciously.
”What?” Greg said with mock-innocence.
“Do you mean, do I fancy a walk in about 2 hours after you’ve made me two cups of tea and they’ve had chance to filter through my kidneys?”
”Well, I’m certainly ready for another cuppa, if you’re offering to make this one. I’ll be glad to make one after that if you need another.” Greg replied cheekily as he fastened the button on his jeans and dug out some socks.
Mycroft fastened up his shirt and chose his own socks, carefully checking his appearance in the mirror to determine if the outfit was indeed discreet enough for a walk. Satisfied that he was not in danger of becoming an exhibitionist, he sat beside Greg on the ottoman to put on his socks.
”It’s just a suggestion you know, I’m not wanting to pressure you.”
”As I’ve told you before Greg, I’m not one to bend to peer pressure. If we walk today, know that I will be quite comfortable doing so.” He paused for a fraction of a second then added, “Well, maybe comfortable might be the wrong choice of word, maybe desperate would be better suited.”
”Oh I think I’d like you desperate in a suit,” Greg all but growled in Mycroft’s ear. He fought a smile as he walked from the bedroom and headed for the kitchen.
Tea made, the men settled in the conservatory with their tea and respective reading material. Mycroft has taken to reading for pleasure in Greg’s company, on Greg’s insistence that days off should be protected. As such, he had been enjoying an anthology of ghost stories he had first read as a teen. Greg was reading the latest best-selling spy novel. On the cover, it proudly proclaimed it was now to become a major motion picture. Mycroft had skim read the book, the premise was somewhat interesting but they had taken far too many liberties. Mycroft had wisely decided not to comment on it as Greg seemed to be enjoying it immensely.
Mycroft couldn’t remember at what point in the last five months that it had occurred but both men had settled into a routine on mutual days off. The two antique wicker chairs that sit perfectly angled towards each other in the conservatory have become their favourite place to read, their feet sharing a small footstool. They would read until one or the other tired from it and began nudging the foot of the other. Sometimes, one of them would rise to make another cup of tea, and a plate of biscuits would usually accompany them.
It was Mycroft who brought in the refreshment today, earl grey and some shortbread fingers from the bakery up the road.
’Sorry, said I’d make the next one.”
“No matter, I've finished my current story, it’s nice to process them before diving into the next.”
Greg shuffled in his chair and started to stand up,
“Need a wee, back in a mo.”
Mycroft sat, thinking that he’d probably have used the toilet too any other day, but not today. He settled with his tea, sipping slowly.
“Ahh that’s better, feeling nice and empty now,” Greg says rather too loudly. He’s teasing. Mycroft doesn’t rise to it, just sits back and continues drinking his tea.
After a short while, Mycroft is aware that Greg is working out how to say or ask something
“What is it?” Mycroft said, still reading but it makes Greg jump.
‘Oh, erm, on our walk, will you tell me if you wet yourself?’ Greg asked earnestly.
‘It’s hardly something I should declare out loud. But, perhaps I could squeeze your hand any time I leak or wet?’
“Good idea!’
‘I’ve read of people doing it, it’s an effective way to convey how long or forceful leaks are, discreetly.’
‘Mmm clever’ Greg said thoughtfully.
It’s another hour before Mycroft realises that he definitely needs a wee. He’s at the point where he would be ready to void his bladder were he not doing a hold. They should probably head out on their walk soon.
Greg was ready quickly once Mycroft made him aware and he himself used the toilet, making Mycroft stand awkwardly in the hall waiting for him knowing that he wouldn’t be using the toilet the next time he peed. He felt a flush of arousal through his body and cupped his groin, holding himself gently and imagining his accident. His hand dropped quickly as the downstairs loo door clicked open.
They’d walked left along the street where Mycroft’s house sat, and took a steady walk through the small park. They chatted comfortably and Mycroft enjoyed the feeling of the slightly dampened padding rubbing him gently. His desperation was very present now and he was starting to feel his muscles tiring.
They kept walking, Greg making comments about how he must need to go whenever they’re out of ear shot of others. Mycroft delight’s in playing along once he’s sure no one of listening, placing a hand over his crotch and telling Greg he was ready to burst and he didn’t know what he could do about it, couldn’t see a public toilet anywhere (both men knowing full well that the building that was visible if they followed the path to the right was indeed a public lavatory.)
They’d left the park and were travelling down a nearby street when Mycroft realised it was happening. He was sweating now, his lower back and temples damp.
Mycroft laced his fingers into Greg’s gently, a subtle shake in his hand telling Greg that he was losing control. Then a squeeze, lasting a few short seconds before he regained control.
Mycroft’s breathing was faster now and a few paces further Greg felt another squeeze. He was sure that this one was longer. Then suddenly, Mycroft was clamping Greg's hand hard.
Greg sneaked a look. There’s a very slight flush to his face but otherwise there are no real signs that his boyfriend is weeing himself in the middle of the street, soaking his protection and no doubt worrying he might leak. He notes Mycroft is struggling to walk normally and turns them slightly on the pretence of window shopping at the bakery they had been walking past. Mycroft is still gripping his hand, still wetting himself. Greg thinks of how much of a puddle there would have been without the pull up. He wonders how likely a leak would be. They could usually hold a full wetting for Mycroft but they had had a lot of tea, he’d been to the toilet a bit more than usual himself.
Mycroft’s hand finally slackened its grip and his breathing steadied. He glanced at Greg, his eyes shining with embarrassment and excitement in equal measure.
“Come on, I fancy one of those apple pies for after dinner,” Greg pulled them to the door and into the bakery before Mycroft realised what he was doing. He hadn’t even realised it was a bakery they had stopped at. As he stepped up into the shop his thigh felt damp against the edge of the pull up. He couldn’t tell if it was a leak or sweat from the effort of holding but he couldn’t check here so he’d just have to act normally and hope he carried it off.
Greg was his usual charming self, engaging the shop assistant in some small talk even after the pie had been paid for. Mycroft would think it was to tease him if Greg wasn’t always this charming and personable.
It’s only a few minutes before they’re back out on the street, headed for home.
“You okay?” Greg said in a discreet, hushed voice.
“Mmm, a little damp, I might have a slight leak.” Mycroft said quietly.
“Here,” he passed Mycroft the paper bag containing the pie, “ keep walking a few paces, I’ll tie my shoelace and check.” Greg ducked to the floor, pretending to tie his shoe. Mycroft walked a few paces and stopped. He paused for a moment then turned back to face Greg, slightly widening his stance.
Greg stood and strode up to him, “All good!” He said with a slight lift in his eyebrows. He was safe, for now, but the sooner he was home the better.
Unfortunately, about five minutes later, Mycroft was reminded sharply of the perils of the rapid desperation technique. His bladder was suddenly feeling full once again. A further, long, 20 minute walk stretched before him with no chance of relief. Just street after leafy street with no chance of a toilet to nip into.
He sucked in a shaky breath, and the copper beside him noticed in a heartbeat.
“You alright?” He asked curiously.
Mycroft glanced around and satisfied they would not be overheard, replied. “I’ve become rather desperate quite suddenly. It happens if you relax the bladder for a while and then attempt to hold again. It is a known method for enjoying multiple accidents in a row.”
“Oops,” Greg bites his lip, “why didn’t you put a nappy on then?”
“Well, I prefer discretion but also I hadn’t really intended this outcome,”
“Just a happy accident then?” Greg grins devilishly at him.
“Oh stop it,” Mycroft gives a playful slap to Greg’s wrist.
“Seriously though, do you think you’ll make it home, or should we look for a loo?”
“There isn’t one any closer than home, residential area,” Mycroft swallows nervously.
“A bush then?”
“This area has one of the largest concentrations of security cameras in London. I wouldn’t risk it,”
“Okay then sweetheart, you just try and hold on and we’ll get you home quick as we can,” he says gently, placing a hand gently on Mycroft’s back.
Mycroft loves him. This man that so effortlessly says exactly what Mycroft wants to hear, in the most natural way possible. They walk on and Mycroft has the most wicked idea to not even try to hold, but just to wet as hard and fast as he can right here in the middle of the street, make a mess and see what Greg would do.
He knows Greg would react beautifully, reassurances and maybe giving him his jacket to tie around his waist. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t put him in an awkward position like that. So he kept walking, the piss in his bladder sloshing in him uncomfortably.
They’d gone maybe five minutes when Mycroft had to stop and make every effort not to leak. He regained control before he stepped on again.
“That’s it,” Greg muttered kindly.
They walked again, and Mycroft was able to maintain a good pace. They were maybe two minutes away from the salvation of his front door when they had to pass a popular little cafe. It had seating arranged on the corner of the pavement, each table full of those enjoying a warm spring Saturday. The panic began to rise, his bladder convulsing as if knowing that this would be the worst possible moment to release.
Greg urged him on, whispering encouragement and they turned the corner of Mycroft’s street.
Oh, no, no. He felt the contraction in his bladder forcing a stream of piss out of his cock and into the already saturated pull up cupping his groin.
He faltered in his walk and Greg turned to look at him.
“Oh darlin’, it’s alright, you’ve done so well. Just a bit more okay,”
He managed to walk again but there was no chance of regaining full control. He only managed to slow the flow a bit, every step closer to his door his bladder was emptying out. He marveled at the sensation, the realisation that he was unintentionally weeing himself on his own street, and no matter who could see him, he couldn’t stop.
They finally reached the doorstep and he could feel streams begin to leak from the pull up, down his legs, wetting his trousers. A few large drops hit the stone step with a spatter as Greg pulled the key from Mycroft’s trouser pocket and unlocked the door.
“Alright darling, one more step and you can let go.” Greg urged him through the door into the hallway, but there’s no real ‘letting go’, he’s already pissing full force, trembling and leaning heavily against the wall. He feels like his whole body is being drained. The pull up is sagging comically in his trousers as the wee soaks out around the legs and now at the waist band too, leaving a wet patch on his shirt.
“Christ!” Greg laughs as he gets the door shut behind him. “I knew you were desperate but blimey!”
Mycroft feels a shiver of disgust at himself go through him, now his brain was clear to think. He looked down at the utter mess he had made and was overwhelmed with embarrassment. It was his fault, Greg hadn’t agreed to this.
“I, can you… I’m sorry, I’ll get this cleaned up. You can go…” he was horrified to realise he was blinking through tears. He'd rarely felt more vulnerable than he did at that moment, he just needed Greg to stop being so close.
“Hey, hey, hey, I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to look after you, get you all cleaned up and safe okay! Come ‘ere.”
Mycroft let out a shaky sob into Greg’s neck as he hugged him tightly, his whole body pressed close. He must be getting wet, stood in the puddle. Greg just held him close, rubbing his back and making gentle shhing noises.
Mycroft surrendered to it, to him. After a beautiful moment being held in his arms, Greg released Mycroft and ran his hands down his arms. His eyes found Mycroft’s and darkened.
“Alright sweetheart, you gonna take these wet things off… for Daddy?”
Fuck. Mycroft went red, heat flushing his cheeks while the rest of his blood filled his cock. He heard himself whimper.
Greg dropped his eyes to his hands and began to undo the button and zip of his wet trousers. The pull up was too thick with pee to feel Greg’s fingers and his hips twitched forward seekingly. Greg chuckled and peeled the wet trousers down until the tops of his socks were visible. He helped him out of shoes, socks and trousers, using the trousers to begin mopping up the puddle. Mycroft stood to the side, feeling the cold tile under his bare feet, his legs clammy and the pull up hanging from his hips. Greg’s trousers had damp patches on the front from where he’d hugged him. He didn’t seem to care.
“Wait there for me,” Greg disappeared down the hallway to the kitchen. Mycroft stands hugging himself and waiting. He can hear the tap run in the kitchen and cupboards being opened and shut.
Greg returned with a mop and bucket smelling of disinfectant, paper towels and bin bags. He laid the paper towels down to soak up the small puddle. Then he placed the wet clothes in one of the bin bags and turned to Mycroft to take off his shirt, which was also wet from where he had leaked over the waist band. Shirt and jacket removed he pulled at the waistband of the pull up and dragged it carefully down Mycroft’s legs. He shivered as the air hit his skin and stepped gingerly out of it.
Greg put the pull up and paper towels into another bin bag and started to mop the floor, Mycroft just stood their stark naked and feeling helpless.
“See,” Greg said as he wrung out the mop and gave it one more wipe over, “like nothing happened. Give me one more sec!” He disappeared again down the hall with the bucket and bags in hand.
He was back in moments, but without trousers and socks and carrying his shoes which he dropped into the cupboard in the hall.
“I’ve chucked all the darks in for a quick pre-rinse. Now then angel, it’s your turn to get clean.”
Mycroft gazed in wonder as Greg led him up the stairs and into the large bathroom, guiding him to sit on the toilet before he filled the bath.
Mycroft breathed slowly and let himself relax, dribbling a small amount of wee into the toilet, which Greg praised him for. Christ. He felt floaty and fuzzy now, not even able to say anything.
The bath was filling steadily and Mycroft was watching from his seat when Greg moved towards him. He stroked a hand through Mycroft’s hair and used his knees to nudge at Mycroft’s own, wanting him to move back. Mycroft wiggled himself backwards slightly, cringing at the way his damp skin stuck to the seat. Greg just nudged again, this time guiding Mycroft’s legs wider.
Leaving one hand in Mycroft’s hair, Greg’s other hand dropped to his boxers, pulling his cock free over the waistband. Mycroft opened his mouth in anticipation, expecting Greg was wanting to be sucked off but Greg kept the distance and aimed down. He started to wee, the stream growing stronger and splashing loudly in the bowl. Mycroft just stared, cock twitching and filling as he watched Greg piss.
Greg’s eyes flicked to Mycroft’s but his stayed glued to the stream of liquid. Greg lifted his cock slightly, until his stream hit Mycroft’s own cock. He heard a little choked gasp and let the stream lift again, pissing messily against his lower belly so his wee ran down over Mycroft’s balls before dripping into the loo.
Mycroft moaned again as he took himself in hand, gently rubbing in the piss as he stroked. Greg’s stream was fading now, a few final spurts splashing on his hand. He continued to stroke as Greg shook his cock and then tucked himself away. Greg’s other hand, that had remained gripping gently to his curls, eased his head back and then Greg was leaning down to kiss him, hungrily seeking Mycroft’s tongue and sighing as he deepened the kiss.
As Greg pulled away and went back to check the bath, Mycroft slowed his hand and let go of his cock. He replayed the last few minutes, thinking he has never seen anything as erotic in all his life. He shivered slightly, and checking Greg was still focused on preparing the bath, he touched the skin on his belly where wet streaks still shined and massaged Greg’s piss into his skin.
He felt filthy but he couldn’t stop, as if wanting to absorb the memory, let it soak into him and become part of him. Then Greg turned off the taps and he stilled his hand, sliding it guiltily down his thigh. Greg turned around.
“Oh sweetheart, look at you. Come on, the water will warm you up and we’ll get you all clean.”
He placed a hand on Mycroft's back to urge him forward, his other hand taking Mycroft’s and holding him steady as he climbed in. Mycroft took a second to feel the water soaking him, silky with bubble bath and the perfect temperature. He scooted forward then, giving Greg room to slide in behind him, but Greg was busy bringing a small stack of towels over and placing them beside the bath.
“Sorry, just don’t think my knees will cope too long on the tile,” He knelt down and rolled up his shirt sleeves, before dipping his hands into the water.
“Aren’t you getting in too?” Mycroft asked, his voice had a shyness to it.
“If you want, but Daddy wants to wash you first angel, make sure I don’t miss anything. You just enjoy your bath, gorgeous, okay?”
Greg’s voice was quiet, soothing and gentle. Mycroft felt an aching deep in his chest, he could almost cry.
Greg reached to the small metal tray holding a sponge and soap and lathered the sponge up. His left hand rested gently on Mycroft’s shoulder as the right massaged the sponge around his neck in little circles before moving methodically down his back. He kept going, Mycroft adjusting slightly as Greg worked his way from top to toe.
By the time Greg was cupping water into his hands to rinse him, Mycroft was struggling to keep his eyes open. He’d been steadily lulled into a sleepy haze and was pliant for Greg as he got him out of the water and dried off.
Mycroft laid down and Greg put him in a nappy, humming gently, moving confidently to get Mycroft into padding and pyjamas. When he’d done, he cradled Mycroft’s face in his hands and kissed him gently on each cheek before pressing a final kiss to his lips. He nudged Mycroft until he moved over in the bed and Greg settled down beside him, pulling the blanket that was folded neatly at the bottom of the bed over their legs.
Mycroft sighed and snuggled into Greg’s side, face pressed into his chest. His body felt relaxed and loose and he felt so unbelievably safe.
“So, earlier… what got you all upset darling?”
Mycroft huffed a slightly self-deprecating laugh.
“I thought I’d gone too far, I felt like we’d not discussed a second wetting but I was completely losing control and very nearly embarrassed us both. Then I was, well, I’d made such a mess and I got a bit overwhelmed I suppose.”
Greg tugged him close and cuddled him, reaching to rub circles over his nappy-covered bum.
“Do you know how hot that all was? I actually had to stroke myself while I was filling the mop bucket, just to get a bit of relief. Felt like a twat knowing you were all upset and I just wanted to get off. “
Mycroft made a little noise of protest, wanting to assuage his guilt but Greg continued.
“Fuck, when I realised you were sort of frozen on the step and I reached in your pocket for the key and I could feel it was all wet, then I saw your trousers were dripping with it and you were just so helpless and your face had gone all pink and-“
Mycroft groaned, but Greg could see the hint of a grin on the side of Mycroft’s face and he giggled. Then, he leaned close, lips brushing the shell of Mycroft’s ear before he murmured.
“You were such a good boy trying to hold it, you know. You were so close to making it too. Maybe you could be a brave boy and wear a proper nappy for me next time eh?’
Mycroft just kissed him in reply. Greg took it as acceptance anyway and leaned fully into the kiss, holding him close by his lovely padded bum.