Archive of Our Own

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

"What is THAT?" Deadpool sounded scandalized. Erm, I mean, I sounded scandalized. Really, first-person POV? You want to challenge yourself, author? Why is it always about challenging and proving yourself? That's toxic. Do some mindfulness exercises in your corner.

Okay, back to it.

"What is THAT?" I sounded scandalized. Looking at the little, dark yellow hole in the snow beside me. Spidey flinched and looked as if he wanted to sneak or swing away. His arms were pulled in a little, similar to a T-Rex. Why did I find this pose sexy? It would keep others awake at night, but for me it was a normal Tuesday.

"What do you mean?" squeaked the other one. He probably already knew why I was so indignant. When I suggested putting a pole of water in the corner after the fight, it was only in our mutual interest. People often suppressed their natural needs, especially a goody two shoes like Spider-Man (side note: the hyphen is very important!).

And I just had to pee really badly. For once, I wanted to do it with my pants down, just for a change. Since it had snowed, fitting for Christmas, and I am a very mature and grown man, I suggested leaving our tracks in the white splendor.

Little did I know that my enormous, bright yellow, warm waterfall would melt the ice and last for a good minute. It brought relief to my whole body, stars behind my eyes, cheers on my lips.

Meanwhile, a completely different debacle was unfolding next to me. Short, highly concentrated, and causing only a small hole.

Was Spidey a naughty boy and being punished with a dry spell? Not that kind of dry spell... or maybe that too?

"What I mean? WHAT I mean?" I gasped, my hand dramatically placed on my chest. My pants were still down; I had completely forgotten about them after the pathetic attack. The other guy noticed that too when he turned to me and immediately crossed his hands in front of his eyes.

"Wade!" he whined from behind his fingers.

I looked down at myself and started to grin. "Oh, come on, don't be like that. Enjoy the view," I joked, but pulled myself back up. Besides, I knew it was a diversionary tactic.

"To return to you, young sir!"

"Ierkh, don't call me young sir."

"Young sir, young sir, young sir."

"Wow, so grown up, Wade."

"Wow, so grown up, Wade."

"Argh!"

I laughed heartily because I always won these little games. But before I was webbed to the next streetlight, I drove on. "You know what they say, Websy. Hydrate or Diedrate." (That's not a WaterMe reference, is it? ;D). I could literally see the eye-rolling behind the lenses.

"Hey, no eye rolling! This is serious," I said, pointing accusingly at the small dark yellow spot in the snow. "That's not healthy, not healthy at all."

I could literally see the struggle inside my counterpart. It was as if his hair had stood on end like a cat's. Or a tarantula? Didn't they shed their stinging hair? I wondered if that was what was hidden under his suit. Hot.

Before he said anything, however, his body relaxed again. He even seemed a little defeated.

Could it be possible? Was this the Christmas miracle everyone was talking about?

"You're right," he said soberly. Nothing more. With his slumped posture.

I couldn't believe my ears and tried to stick my little finger in. Oh crap, the mask was in the way. Damn thing.

I stepped closer to him and grabbed both his biceps. Not tightly, but not gently either. Almost swallowing myself, I said, "I'm right?". That was really a sentence you rarely heard, and I certainly never heard it.

"Webs, are you okay?" "I don't know."

And before I knew it, I had a half-sobbing little spider in my arms. That talked about how he punished and disciplined himself in order to be there for everyone. Not drinking enough, not eating enough, not sleeping enough.

My mother bear mode was activated instantly. Me as the classical provider. You know, like all the other 234928352935 fics where I'm this good guy, providing for the love of my life. My heartmate. As if I were this guy. But let's just assume that for now. And not that I'm a pretty crazy bastard who is also relatively selfish and focused on his own advantage.

To lighten the mood a little (and to borrow kazu's words): "So is your piss like radioactive highlighter fluid or something?". I probably deserved the laughter and the shove into the snow. That it was yellow snow I landed in, well, what can I say? If it weren't for the mask, I might have treated myself to an asparagus slushie (Buns has already recognized how nasty I am).

"Ew, Wade!"

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"No kinkshaming, young man!"

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

A few days passed and I took good care of our young hero. At least I tried to, when my head wasn't full of holes like Swiss cheese. And you know me, folks. Unfortunately, that happens quite often. And I would say that only 69% of the time is it my fault. See what I did there?

After I repeatedly asked to check Spidey's fluid balance. And have there ever been more romantic words spoken than "Can I be your human toilet?".

The other gave in. Really. A sigh. A "Sure, why the fuck not.". It was just too wonderful. Maybe it was a dream. Just don't ruin it for me.

It was settled. And I waited and waited. And waited. You know how patient I am. One of the most patient people ever. Really. But at some point, even I lost my temper. And so I pushed the other one against a wall. Maybe in an alley, maybe on a roof. Brick wall. It doesn't really matter.

"Been pissing all by your lonesome, Baby Boy?"

"What?"

"Human toilet services still open for business."

“I can’t just pee on command because you’re horny, Wade! I’ll let you know when I need to go.” [1]

"Aha."

I gritted my teeth before an idea came to me. I leaned forward, kabedoning the other against the wall, my lips pressed against his delicate, masked ear, imitating the sound of water splashing. "Shhhhh.". Fingers pressed against my chest as if he wanted to push me away. And he definitely had the strength to do so. Instead, I heard a small whimper and a smirk stole across my lips.

"Piss on me, baby?"

"Yeah, okay."

I sank to my knees, ready to feel the light, the warmth, all of it. Not even looking at his penis (see I used the scientific word here), but looking into Web's face. Well, his mask, anyway; we were still in the secret identity phase and all that.

And then. It happened.

Well, not much happened. Once again, it was a brief event. A brief warmth splashed onto my chest and ran down.

By the time I found my words, the other had already fully dressed again. Again, a sound of indignation escaped me. Scandal.

"So... That was one (1) tablespoon. And it smelled like concentrated Baja Blast!"

I just spat out the words of protest: "That's enough, I'm getting you a Camelbak!" [2]

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

No sooner said than done, I had a CamelBak® ready for our next meeting. Completely in Spider-Man design, like the good fanboy that I am.

Did that ungrateful person wear it? Of course not.

Did we have a fight about it? Of course we did.

Did it end with me web-spun upside down on a building wall? Maybe.

The blood rushed to my head pretty quickly, one of my least favorite places for a large accumulation of blood. I can't remember everything.

In any case, after I came to my senses. And Spidey's villain of the week had been taken care of on his own. He came back to me and looked concerned. Ha, you deserve that!

"I'm sorry, Wade. I know you mean well."

"Come here."

I sat down and the other one landed in my lap. We wrapped our arms around each other. When did all this happen since I told you that I was taking care of him like a mama bear? Imagine it sometime. Between the lines. I comforted him, okay? That has to be good for something, right? Now he definitely trusts me and we are here. Period.

"Now say ah," I murmured, pulling his mask up slightly and stuffing the tube of the Camelbak on my back into his throat. The brief gagging sound would surely help me through some dark nights. "Spider-sense isn't what it used to be," I joked, not letting up until the other guy took a few big gulps. I helped by pressing on the bak and literally shooting the water into him.

Not necessarily my preferred method of shooting it in, but beggars can't be choosers.

Only when the 2 liters that such a bad boy can hold, had disappeared into the other, was I satisfied. I don't know, should there be a warning here for all you mere mortals that you can also suffer from water intoxication? Ah nah, that's your damn problem.

A burp from the other one made me giggle, and I could literally feel the water sloshing around inside him.

"Wade."

Ah, that slightly whiny tone. Music to my ears. What can I say? I'm a simple man. Put an end-of-20-year-old in my lap, stuffed like a Christmas goose or, better yet, a water balloon, and little Wade is happy, too.

"Yes, baby?"

I couldn't keep the smugness out of my voice. My hands found his abdomen. My fingers trying to feel what was hidden beneath. A whole lot of water slowly being flushed through his kidneys. Filtered. And the wonderful organ filling up under my hand. Well, you wouldn't have thought so, would you? My anatomical knowledge is par excellence.

"Stop."

Another whimper. A pitiful attempt. And with Spider-Man strength, he could have prevented all of this. The fact that he didn't was a sign to me that it was okay. Ah, were you expecting more consent? I'm afraid I have to disappoint you there. If it helps, insert this here: [Conversation in which both protagonists consent to all the previous and subsequent things. They are both of legal age and in no way mentally impaired to consent to this.]

Well, now that that's out of the way.

In any case, in order to make some progress, I unabashedly pressed on his bladder. His body shuddered, my body shuddered. Probably for different reasons. The end result was that our Bug Boy couldn't hold it in. And all the good liquid I had pumped into him left his body again.

A dark patch spread across his suit before turning into a torrent that pooled on the leather of my suit before soaking through the fabric. We both had to moan. Real porn moans, in Dolby Surround. Imagine that.

His webbed fingers dug into my shoulders, a little ouch, but also mucho, hello there, my friends. And it flowed and flowed and flowed. Warm and so delicious. His head was thrown back, relief bubbling out of him. A sight for the gods, really.

Little Wade twitched in the glorious bath he was being given. And if I thrust upward once or twice and possibly felt a bump other than my own? Hell yeah, jackpot. Omorashi, check. I had probably infected the Baby Boy with that.

At first, he didn't even notice. Both of us dripping with his urine, he grinded lightly against me. So careful and skilled with that flexible hot body, almost as if in a trance.

But a cold gust of wind seemed to bring him back to his senses, unfortunately. As if stung by a tarantula, he jumped up. I winced, already missing his weight. And then he was gone.

"Webs? Spidey?"

I called out, but now I was left behind, defeated. Sighing. Man, that was pretty exhausting and not quite as Christmas-y as I had thought it would be.

After a while, I wanted to get up, but I had massively underestimated that liquid + cold, i.e., FREEZING cold, was not a good combination. Imagine your tongue stuck to a frozen pole. But that's π (= 3.14159, PI or PEE, just to mansplain).

"Eh... friendly neighborhood Spider-Man? We have a situation here," I called out in vain. I considered just blowing my ass off with TNT, but my beautiful ass. It wasn't America's ass, nor was it Spidey's ass. But it was okay. So in the end, I left only a little suit and skin. Imagine it similar to Bun's profile icon. But a little bloodier. And meatier.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Yes, there are quite a few time jumps in the story. But first, some grass... or skin had to grow over the matter.

Unsuspecting, I did my Christmas shopping like the responsible adult that I am. On the morning of December 24. I mean: deals and sales. Seriously, guys, I may be a merc and have a lot of money. But that doesn't mean I have to spend it unnecessarily. Call me Webenezer Wrooge written by Charlie's Dick. Yum. It really helps that the author has the brain of a 12-year-old boy.

Correction, I did my shopping on December 20. Yes, exactly. Why? You'll find out. Or maybe not.

I don't really care. Exactly.

As I wandered through the dark valley... Joking. I was just going from store to store to buy gifts for my loved ones. Suddenly, a hard hand grabbed me by the collar and I was thrown into the air.

Being the manly man that I am – check my testosterone level – I didn't scream like a violated housewife, but remained totally cool. Before I realized it was the Webslinger who had grabbed me, I was tempted to stab him with a hunting knife. I don't have Spidey senses, okay?

Anyway, I was very surprised and surrendered to the other guy. We swung around for a while, maybe I was imitating Tarzan, but that could be wrong. And finally, I was forced through a window into an apartment. While I was still looking around, examining the glowing Menorah on the windowsill, something completely different was going on inside the blue and red Boy Wonder.

"Wade!" he tried to get my attention. He might have said something before that, but I just blinked at him, unimpressed. I mean, I was in the Spider-Cave and had to let it all sink in first. How could he expect me to think so quickly?

To make it even harder for me, he stomped his foot – and I'm told I act like a child, scoff. And then he did the thing I least expected him to do: he took off his mask. With a loud gasp, hands slapped to my face. Imagine Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone. There I stood. And he was already talking about "never thought he would," "something awakened in him," "weird mixed feelings," yadda yadda.

I had a moment there.

"And here I thought I'd see some Derek Hale with all your brooding. But nope, well hello Stiles Stilinski... or should I say, SPOILER ALERT, Mieczysław," came out of my mouth almost reverently and quietly.

"My name is Peter," he replied, visibly confused. Oh sweet boy, are you too young that you haven’t known the triumphs and defeats, the epic highs and lows of high school football? Ah, wrong series. But at least it's on Netflix, too. Yes, TW is on Netflix now, I guess it will have a revival. Yeah baby, finally all my fanfiction will get the traffic they deserve.

[Yes, here follows an inner monologue, while Peter was still eyeing me as if I were crazy. Too on the nose? Shrug.]

Yeah, it's a series from 2011. I'm still a lawful citizen of the fandom world. What? Why are you looking at me with those big brown honey whiskey amber syrupy Bambi eyes? Got what I did there? All the descriptions of Stiles' eyes in those Sterek fics? Of course I'm a Sterek shipper, what do you heathens think? Steter? Hell no, keep this freak away from innocent Peter.

"Ah, not you Pete. Spider-Pete. I'm talking Peter Hale, or should I say, well hello Daddy. Okay. Stopping right here. You're always gonna be my favorite Petey. Spider-Petey. Have to delete all those folders of Taylor Hoechlin shirtless pics and start a Dylan O'Brien stash. But we'll get there. Shhh, it's okay." Maybe it wasn't just an inner monologue.

So this should have been a Christmas-y fanfiction featuring yellow snow and me as a piss sommelier, but now it's turned into that. The author still had this snippet and wanted to use it finally. Cheap, really cheap. Could never happen with me. I'm Original©. Creative©. Hard-working©. A real poet©. And I can say:

 .。･:*:･(✿◕3◕)❤ A piss is a wish your bladder makes. ❤(◕ε◕✿)･:*:･。.

Yep, I'm throwing the Mouse™ into this. Why not, huh? It's our boss now. A perverted, sadistic kind of boss, just so you know. Seen the new Avengers trailer? Awful, even C. Evans has to bend over again. And these fat white gloved hands are spreading his cheeks... too much? Yeah, that's my forte, my specialty, my je-ne-sais-quoi. Ah, Canadian over here, French (kissing and fucking) is in my palette.

"Earth to Wade," my thoughts were interrupted, snapping fingers included. The audacity! A still rather upset young vigilante stood in front of me and pushed me onto the couch with very strong, small hands. Uh, that did something to me (and little Wade).

I put on my best face: "Draw me like one of your-," but before I could finish, a hand was slapped over my lips. My non-existent eyebrows shot up and I blinked.

"Now I'm talking, Pool," said the other one, pushing me aside and sitting down next to me. If I had the hair on the back of my neck, it would have stood up. Instead, it was a kind of goose bumps that spread over my body. Maybe it was scabies, you could never completely rule that out. In any case, bossy Petey was hot. And I was nothing more than his devoted servant. Complete with a licked palm.

A deep sigh before the saliva was wiped off on my sweatpants. "Hey!"

One glance was enough and I mimicked a zipper closing my mouth. Then a key locking it. Which I demonstratively threw away. Imagine the awful take with Weapon XI here. That's how it was. Okay.

"These whole diuretic shenanigans," Pete started, and I had to hold back a laugh.

"You can say piss. Or pee. Pee-Petey."

"Hrm. This...," he heaved and bit his lip. I tried to stay calm and give him the time he needed. Like I said, I'm a very patient man. Very understanding. The best, actually.

"I don't know, I really liked it? Gosh, that's so twisted."

"I would say don't get your panties in a twist, Catholic boy, but obviously it's not Christ we're worried about." Yeah, I'm not patient. I know, you know, Pete knows. We all know.

Fists clenched between us and for a brief moment I thought he was going to punch me a few times. Relatable. And I wouldn't have minded that either. Wade Wilson likes a lot of flavors and is a connoisseur of the extra couleurs.

"Wade, I don't do that kind of thing. Ever. Kinks... or whatever. I mean, have one or two girlfriends ever squirted on me? Yes, definitely. Have I ever lost a few drops of urine in one or the other? [3] Also possible. But this. THIS. Is a different level... and I don't know... I just don't know."

OMG, was this the birds and bees talk that was about to happen here? And you thought you'd missed something about consent above.

"You don't need to know. You need to experience it," I said with a wink and got pushed again for it.

"How is it for you?" he whispered to me. I leaned back, sighing, thinking.

"To be honest, it's one of the most wholesome experiences I've ever had. No matter which way. The other person on me, inside me; me on the other person, inside the other person."

The eyes opposite me grew wider and a blush spread across his face and neck. If we weren't having a serious heart-to-heart here, I'd love to see where this goes.

"It has many aspects for me. There is desperation and degradation. But also trust, deep trust. And warmth. And enveloping you with something of myself. Or the other way around."

"So it's sexual?"

"Yes, but not only that. It turns me on incredibly, no question. But if you let me drink your nectar first thing in the morning after getting up, we could have morning sex. Or I would just see it as a service to someone I really like, someone whose day I can sweeten by not making them get up right away. Instead, they can just let it flow."

Brown eyes searched mine, trying to figure out something I didn't say. God, how corny does that sound? And you thought this was going to be a really funny thing. To be honest, I thought so, too. Author? Are you okay? Oh, you're just going with the flow? Haha, flow. A little, I wish the waterfall from the beginning back.

"As in... drinking it?" I was asked again.

After another pause. "Yeah."

I could literally see the wheels turning in his head. And that was a really cute sight, don't get me wrong. Would I like to be on third base by now? Definitely. But we don't want to slip into Archive Warnings here. Maybe in the next story, but this one is still a Christmas miracle. A blue – or rather yellow – wonder. (Yeah, that idiom doesn’t make sense in English, just think "to be in for a nasty surprise".)

"Okay," he wiped his palms on his suit pants. When did he lose his gloves? I didn't notice. But I'm so much in my head, things like that can slip my mind.

"Okay?"

"Yes. I'd like to try. To explore that," he nodded emphatically. Confident, but somehow also not? Not that it gave me mixed signals, I already knew what it was about. A lot goes through my mind, but a lot doesn't. Still merc over here.

"And what exactly?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely sure?"

"Yes, man, Wade!"

"Just want to be on the safe side," I teased a little, fidgeting with my fingers. Peter also looked down and seemed to be thinking.

"Right now?" I asked bluntly. Bambi eyes looked at me. You probably know the deer in the headlight metaphor. Imagine it here, please.

He hesitated, the wheels turning in his head again. I leaned back and tried to appear relaxed. I didn't want to pressure him, but I had offered human toilet services for a good reason. That was no joke.

"I..." he began softly, but broke off again. Looking a little lost.

I sighed. "Look, Pete. We shouldn't rush into anything here," and I knew exactly what I was doing. The brief flash in his eyes told me I had hit a nerve. Manipulative much? Scratch the "much," but "manipulative" is about right. What can I do? I'm only human. And not a good one at that.

"No, I want this," he replied somewhat defiantly. And the fact that he didn't cross his arms in front of his chest surely took a lot of self-control.

I looked at him for a few moments as his eyebrows sank lower and his expression hardened. Hook, line, and sinker.

"Fine," rolled off my tongue and I rummaged through my shopping bags. It was as good as any moment. I found what I was looking for. A snow globe.

Triumphantly, I pulled it out and unscrewed it. I had deliberately chosen one without water, which now proved to be perfect. Peter watched the proceedings, I think still not really understanding what I was up to.

I held it out to him, shaking it slightly. Without words.

A silent conversation took place between us. I knew he was incredulous. And didn't quite understand what this was all about. But finally, the moment had come.

"All right!" said Peter, snatching the snow globe from me. As he trudged away, I almost wanted to stop him. But I knew this was a very delicate matter. And one of my few chances. I held back and sat on the couch like a good boy. Santa would surely be proud of me.

I don't know if some Menorah fumes were clouding my senses, but in any case, it seemed like an eternity before the other one returned. In his hand, the snow globe. Filled to the brim with the holy juice. Okay, that sounds a little disgusting, even to me. I started grinning like crazy like Jim Carrey (come on, the Grinch had to be involved, okay?).

"Here."

I took the holy grail, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Oh my God, Wade!"

The bottom part of the snow globe was still on my lap. I slowly closed it. Then I turned it upside down and shook it. And saw how all the glitter spread around Santa and Rudolph in the warm, light yellow liquid. "Merry Christmas to me!" I whispered emotionally.

Then I pulled a glass straw with a pointed end from my utility belt. Yes, I wore it with sweatpants too. At least sometimes. I pierced the snow globe, shattering the glass, but that was for my extra kick. I swirled the snow globe in my hand like a wine glass and drew some of the seductive mixture into my mouth. And you thought I couldn't get the sommelier story out of my system, huh? There you go.

Pulling it through my teeth, not forgetting to breathe. I am a real man of the world, after all. I slurped it into my cheeks, swished it around my mouth, and finally swallowed it with a loud "Ah."

How refreshing. How well concentrated. Did the glass shards cut my tongue a little and did the glitter particles sting my throat? Yes, definitely. But knowing that my Petey-boy was drinking enough was the best gift for me.

No, I'm not that selfless. Actually, it was my gift to be able to be his human toilet. Did you expect something else? Some wholesomeness? You idiots.

And while all stages of every emotion played out on Pete’s face, I continued to drink with relish. Until there was not a drop left. We didn't talk during this time.

It was hardly surprising that it made me hard. But what I saw coming out of the Spidey suit made me bite my cheek to keep from grinning or even laughing.

Shortly thereafter, I leaned toward the other with pursed lips.

"Ew, no way, Wade!" he pushed me back again. The snow globe flew out of my hand in a high arc and thundered against the Menorah on the windowsill. Wobbling, the flames of the candles found the curtains. Really, Pete, curtains?

While there was brief chaos before we put out the fire, any mood had evaporated. At least for my Spidey-Boy. I was still half-mast. Rarely shocked or impressed by anything, little Wade did prove his steadfastness.

We stood together in the bathroom, returning the bucket. Peter handed me mouthwash before he went to look for comfortable clothes. I rinsed his taste from my tongue out of necessity. That definitely had to get better in the future.

When he returned, his hair a little more tousled than before and his expression somewhat tired and exhausted, I smiled at him in the mirror. His arms wrapped around me from behind, the hug relatively tight. My member throbbed promisingly in my pants. And it didn't take long before a hand slid down and enclosed it.

I had to admit, I hadn't expected that today. Mischievous eyes flashed at me in the mirror, my hands resting on the sink. Wow.

"I definitely underestimated you," I murmured to the smaller one, turning my head to the side.

"Big mistake," he whispered back before our lips met filthily and I started thrusting into his hand. Had we somehow started in the wrong order? For most couples, probably. But we couldn't be counted in those categories.

Because what happened after I came could only be described as Freak4Freak. And it made my chest swell with pride.

He quickly wiped the cum that had landed in his hand on my sweatpants. And since they were already soaked inside, it didn't make much difference. However, he grabbed me without further ado and stood me in front of the toilet, pulled down my pants, and grabbed my penis again.

I hissed a little, still sensitive shortly after coming.

His other hand found the spot in my lower abdomen. The same spot I had maltreated him with when we had our Omorashi experience. He pressed unabashedly and his gaze seemed highly concentrated. I could almost feel him vibrating next to me.

Like a scientist who now wanted to watch me urinate. And although I had a rather aversion to anything experimental, I let it happen.

His eyes grew wider, his mouth slightly open. I watched his reaction closely, which was so fascinated that I knew I would instantly get hard again. Being able to see and feel his curiosity and desire was the best Christmas present ever.

He licked his lips and swallowed, even running his fingers lightly over my glans and the warm stream. I shuddered and leaned against the wall above the toilet. After my urge to urinate was satisfied, his moist, warm fingers gripped me harder again and he made me come once more.

Slowly, a devilish expression had crept onto his face, and I knew it didn't bode well. I drank liters of water from the bucket we had used to extinguish the curtains earlier. This allowed Pete to alternately bring me to climax and then back to urination. I did not know how long it lasted, but at some point, I just felt sore and did not want to take another sip of water. Perhaps I was crouching on the bathroom floor.

Strong arms wrapped around me and carried me to bed. Covered me up. Kissed me lovingly on the forehead like a mother. Lay down behind me so I could be the little spoon. And were there ever any nicer words to fall asleep to than: "You can have more to drink tomorrow morning. Happy holidays, Wade."

(See, Freak4Freak. Without the whole backstory, you would never have believed me. But that's it. I'm blown away. Ha, gay. So so gay. Yes. (๑♡⌓♡๑))

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆