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It started the morning of their assault on the goblin camp, in a clearing just west of the Blighted Village. The morning sun was only just beginning to peek through the dense shade of the trees surrounding their campsite, and most of the party was in the process of packing up their supplies for the final stretch of marching before they reached the goblins. As he finished tidily nestling the last of his spellbooks into his pack, Gale felt the several mugs of morning tea he’d consumed beginning to hit him all at once – so, hoping to avoid having to hold up the party along the road, he decided to step off into the woods to answer nature’s call in anticipation of their departure.
Just as he found a suitable tree and began undoing the laces of his trousers, however, there was a rustling in the grass behind him, and he peered around to see the lithe, shadowed figure of Astarion approaching. Gale’s hands ceased their unlacing, and he looked curiously at the elf as he moved to stand several paces from Gale, facing him with his arms crossed loosely over his wiry chest.
“Bit of a vulnerable time to sneak up on a man,” said Gale, in a tone of slight irritation; he did need to piss quite badly, after all, so the interruption was not exactly a welcome one.
“If I’d been trying to sneak up on you, wizard, you wouldn’t have heard me. Obviously.” Gale blinked, waiting in slight confusion for a more thorough explanation of Astarion’s presence. For a moment, Astarion just smiled back at him with an indiscernible look in his eye before eventually waving a hand expressively in Gale’s direction. “Oh, don’t stop on my account! I just had a few quick questions about that book you lent me, and I figured now might be a good time to bend your ear.”
“Al…right,” said Gale slowly, thinking that in actuality this might be the very opposite of a good time. His need was urgent enough, however, that he decided to ignore the impulse to argue. Instead, he continued loosening the threads of his trousers, the fabric now dipping low enough for the the dense thatch of hair above his cock to be visible, and he was preparing to pull himself out fully when he looked up to see Astarion’s red eyes locked intently on the region of his partially-exposed groin.
“Do you mind?” asked Gale, his voice again threaded with irritation.
“Not at all! You go right ahead,” responded Astarion, his eyes twinkling with slight mischief as they flicked back up to meet Gale’s.
“That’s not what I – oh, hells, whatever,” said Gale in resignation, tugging a bit frantically at the last of his laces and pulling his cock out completely. It was not as though they’d never seen one another nude before, given the nature of camp life – he’d just never had Astarion’s gaze focused on him quite as piercingly as it seemed to be now.
Despite the indubitable, pressing fullness of his bladder, Gale found that Astarion’s rapt attention made it difficult for him to actually begin to let go. Stage fright, his mind supplied absurdly, and he felt a blush rising to his cheeks.
“So, with regard to that book – I found the chapter on spell interactions rather interesting.” Astarion’s voice was casual, as though Gale was not standing directly in front of him with his cock in his hand. “If I understand it correctly, once you’ve cast a Create Water, you can layer a cold spell over it to create a patch of ice?”
“That’s correct,” said Gale in a tight voice. Suddenly, the dam was broken; whatever mental roadblock had been stopping him was suddenly erased, and a hard, steady stream of urine began to release from his cock onto the mossy surface of the tree before him. Relief.
“Interesting,” Astarion continued, as though nothing had changed – seeming to ignore the far-too-loud hissing, splattering sound now coming from Gale’s direction. “So if you were to use a Create Water, and then Tav cast one of those frost cantrips that they love so much, it would leave us with a nice, slippery surface for some of our enemies to lose their footing? Perfect opportunity for me to get the jump on them with my daggers.”
“Yes,” said Gale, his blush deepening at the length and volume of his stream. Why had he felt the need to consume so much gods-forsaken tea? “But don’t forget, you wouldn’t be immune to the ice either. You’re just as likely to slip and fall as whomever we’re fighting.”
“Not just as likely. I’d like to think I’m rather more dextrous than your average baddie.” Astarion’s voice was low, confident; the flow of Gale’s urine was only just beginning to gradually, thankfully slow, a feeling of emptiness settling into his midsection. “But I suppose you’re right. Arrows, then. I’ll shoot them from above, while my target is already downed.”
As the stream at last slowed to a dwindling trickle and then to a weak dribble, Gale began to shake himself off, stealing another glance at Astarion as he did so. The elf’s eyes were still focused directly, deliberately onto Gale’s soft, still slightly-dripping cock – until he slowly turned his gaze up to meet Gale’s own stare, the slightest smirk stealing its way across his face.
He knew Gale knew he’d been watching. He wanted Gale to know he’d been watching.
“I think that sounds like a reasonable strategy,” Gale said, aiming for casual as he tucked himself away and began re-tying his laces. “We’ll have to talk with Tav, and perhaps see if we can’t give it a go if we end up in a tussle with the goblins today. Now – is there anything else you were wondering about?”
He took a step back, and Astarion took a step forward, and when Gale looked down he saw that the toe of Astarion’s boot was mere centimeters from the edge of the darkened, soaked ground where Gale’s urine had freshly pooled. Gale was not entirely certain why the image made his throat grow tight.
“No. That was all I wanted,” said Astarion silkily, leaning a bit too closely into Gale’s space, his smile flashing the barest hint of fang. Then he turned on his heel to walk purposefully towards camp – leaving Gale feeling physically relieved, but mentally more confused than he could remember being in a long while.
****
The party that evening was a raucous one, with the desperate relief of the tieflings contributing an almost frenzied edge to the festivities. Music, dancing, and ale flowed freely, and Gale found that he was very much warmed by the joyous nature of the celebration – and, of course, by the several mugs of delectable, dry red wine that kept making their way into his hands, usually after having been thrust there by Astarion.
It was the strangest thing. In their short time together, Gale had known Astarion to be a stingy creature, jealously hoarding any of the valuable trinkets that happened to make their way into his sticky fingers during their travels. That night, however, he was the portrait of generosity, ensuring with a roguish smile that Gale’s cup never even came close to empty. Even when Gale decided several drinks in that he’d best switch to water, his head beginning to grow slightly foggy from the wine, he turned towards his tent to seek out his canteen and had it thrust immediately into his grasp by Astarion, full to the brim with refreshingly cool water. It was almost as though Astarion had been watching him – anticipating his need before he himself was aware of it.
And speaking of need, Gale was beginning to recognize a bodily need of another sort, the copious amount of liquid he’d consumed beginning to make its way steadily through his system. He began walking hastily towards the shadowed woods to find a good spot to alleviate himself, but was surprised to suddenly feel a cold hand at his elbow pulling him into a group of conversing, tipsy tieflings.
“Oh, Gale!” Astarion’s voice was full of false cheer, his grin cut with subtle danger. “I’m so glad I caught you. I was just telling Rolan about how well our little Create Water scheme sent those goblins flying today, but you’ll obviously be able to explain the magical theory behind it far better than I.”
“Astarion, I–” Gale attempted to interrupt, but it was for naught; entirely against his will, Gale found himself sucked into a droning, twenty-minute discussion with Rolan the apprentice wizard, who seemed deeply invested in the sound of his own voice and who knew far less about the intricacies of magic than he believed he did.
By the end of the conversation, Gale was bouncing slightly on his heels with the heightening urgency of his need for a piss, and he made his way towards the forest once more – only to be cut off again by that damnable vampire, who had somehow convinced a gaggle of tiefling children that they absolutely needed to hear the story of how Gale had finished off the hag their party had encountered earlier that week (it had been a rather inspired use of Thunderwave, Gale had to admit).
Things continued as such for the better part of the next hour; each time Gale managed to escape one interaction, his nails digging into the skin of his thighs as his desperation grew, Astarion would somehow manage to rope him into another engagement, with Gale finding himself too polite to abruptly duck away.
Eventually, however, it reached the point where Gale was quite certain that if he did not get away to relieve himself immediately, he was going to have a very damp, messy situation on his hands – and he did not even have the excuse of drunkenness to lean on if he were to lose control and wet himself like a child in the center of camp, having not touched a drop of alcohol in over an hour.
As he began striding purposefully towards the treeline – trying his best to resist the urge to break into a jog, so pressing was his need – Gale was unsurprised to hear Astarion slinking gracefully up beside him.
“Gale? I was just talking to that bard, Alfira, who was wondering if you could–”
“No.” Gale stopped walking, rounding on Astarion and biting his lip as his bladder gave a heavy twinge at the sudden motion. “I will not. You’re doing this on purpose – trying to humiliate me, though whether out of sadism or a twisted sense of humor, I’m not certain.”
He turned back around and continued walking briskly up to the entrance to the woods, his situation only seeming to grow more urgent as he drew closer to potential, blissful relief.
“Whatever do you mean?” asked Astarion, all sickly-sweet innocence. “I’ve only been trying to befriend a few of those poor, downtrodden refugees. I assumed a noble heart like yours would surely understand?”
“Oh, please,” said Gale, rolling his eyes as he at last reached a wooded copse he deemed suitable for his purposes. He reached down to begin frantically yanking at the laces of his trousers, his desperation at an absolute peak, uncaring at that point what Astarion saw. “You’re about as altruistic as a–”
“No. Don’t.” The innocent act was abruptly dropped; Astarion’s voice was as sharp as steel.
Suddenly, just as Gale thought he was finally, finally going to get to relieve the now almost-painful ache in his bladder, in the blink of an eye he suddenly found his arms batted away from his trousers and wrenched behind his body, Astarion’s strong, long-fingered hands gripping his wrists tightly together. Astarion backed himself up roughly against a tree – the same one that Gale had been so eagerly planning to water mere seconds before – and brought Gale with him, his chest to Gale’s back, still forcefully clutching Gale’s hands in his own.
“You’re right,” said Astarion, sounding immensely satisfied. Gale gave a low groan, clenching his thighs together tightly, struggling against the strength of Astarion’s grip and against his own urge to unwillingly release the seemingly ocean-deep reservoir of fluid within him. “I was doing that on purpose. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?” asked Gale in a ragged gasp.
“Because I find it absolutely delightful watching you squirm.”
Gale bounced in place slightly, Astarion’s words having an effect on him that he could not quite identify through the thick fog of desperation that was enveloping his mind. He felt a sudden, agonizing realization that he was mere seconds away from beginning to leak humiliatingly into the soft cloth of his trousers if Astarion did not release him.
“I’m not certain what sort of game you think you’re playing, Astarion, but I would highly recommend that you let me go unless your goal is for me to, well… go.”
Suddenly, Astarion pressed his hips into the clenched muscles of Gale’s buttocks, and Gale could feel the unmistakable bulge of Astarion’s erection against him – rigid and full, seemingly driven to that state by Gale’s current overwhelming predicament. The knowledge that Astarion was turned on by the teetering precipice Gale had been brought to sent a surprising coil of heat to Gale’s own gut – though his arousal was still drowned out by his brimming, urgent need to piss, and his certainty that he was just on the verge of spilling over.
“If you really, honestly want me to release you,” Astarion purred lowly in Gale’s ear, his grip around Gale’s wrists growing tighter. “I know that you could make me, even with these lovely, soft hands of yours tucked behind your back. I’ve seen you use your lightning to down an enemy half a courtyard away; I’ve no doubt that you could have me on the ground in an instant, if you so chose.”
He pressed his hardness purposefully against the clothed cleft of Gale’s ass. Gale unwittingly let out a small, whimpering moan – both at the delicious feeling of Astarion’s cock against him, and at the increasingly tenuous state of his control over his bladder.
“So. If you don’t use your magic on me,” said Astarion, one of his hands releasing its grasp on Gale’s wrists to snake towards the front of his torso, tracing gently along his distended lower belly. “Then I’m going to have to assume you want this.”
Astarion’s hand and hips went still, and he became silent for a moment, as though waiting to see whether Gale would move to fight him off – whether Gale’s struggle against him had been a genuine one, or whether there was a strange, secret part of Gale that might just be enjoying this just as much as Astarion was. And for the briefest of moments, Gale did consider using a spell to propel Astarion away from him; it would be so much simpler, in some ways, to put a halt to whatever madness they were currently engaged in, and to happily untie his remaining laces and seek the relief he’d spent the last several hours dying for.
Instead, however, what Gale chose to do was to cross his legs tightly in an undignified, last-ditch effort to hold back what he now knew to be inevitable, press himself back into Astarion, and let out a broken, high-pitched “please.”
That seemed to be all the go-ahead Astarion needed. Gale could practically feel the grin spreading across the elf’s face behind him, and before Gale had a chance to process what was about to happen, Astarion took the hand that had been tracing along Gale’s belly and pressed, creating a sudden, unforgiving pressure against his bladder.
“Oh hells, Astarion, you’re going to make me–” Gale started, but his words were cut off with a groan when he felt himself begin to uncontrollably leak, a sudden warmth dampening the tight fabric around his cock. He managed to cut the flow off quickly, but that little bit of release only managed to bring his desperation to an agonizing new peak. “Gods, please, I really can’t hold it for much longer. Please let me go.”
“You sound so lovely when you beg,” drawled Astarion, his hips thrusting gently against Gale’s backside. His fingers had let up their forceful pressure, but Gale felt his face heat in mortification as Astarion’s hand traveled further downward to the now slightly wet crotch of Gale’s trousers. To Gale’s surprise, however, rather than expressing disgust or disdain at the evidence of Gale’s momentary loss of control, Astarion gave the region of Gale’s cock a gentle squeeze, seemingly uncaring that he was certainly dampening his own hand.
“Oh dear – you naughty thing. What’s that I’m feeling here? Let a little bit slip out, have you?” For reasons beyond Gale’s understanding, Astarion’s voice sounded riveted, no, reverent at the realization of what Gale had done. Gale hunched forward slightly in an attempt to stop himself from leaking further, the thought of continuing to piss himself while Astarion’s hand still cupped him striking him as almost unbearably humiliating. The motion pressed Astarion’s cock even more firmly against him, prompting Astarion to let out a soft moan.
“You’re dying for it, aren’t you?” he breathed, rubbing himself purposefully against Gale. Gale whimpered, clenching his thighs even tighter despite the tips of Astarion’s fingers being nestled between them. “Just look at you: Gale of Waterdeep, the great archmage, Mystra’s Chosen… about to wet his pants like a schoolboy, right out here in the open while a vampire happily has his way with him. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Astarion, I’m quite serious. If you don’t move your hand, I’m going to– gods, fuck, no, no, no.”
Another large leak spilled uncontrollably out of Gale, and he knew there was no disguising it; Astarion had undoubtedly felt the pulse of fluid suddenly soaking his hand through the fabric of Gale’s clothes. Gale felt Astarion’s hand twitch against him, and the movement sent some of the urine dripping down Gale’s inner thigh.
“Oh, it’s warm,” gasped Astarion, and Gale swore he could feel Astarion’s rigid cock twitch against him. “You couldn’t even hold it long enough to avoid pissing into my hand, Gale. Have a little dignity.”
“I’m not sure that I’m the only undignified one in this situation,” choked Gale, curling his toes into the earth as he tried with all his might to hold back the larger flood his body was threatening to release. “You don’t seem too opposed to being the one getting pissed on.”
“Awfully impertinent, for a man in wet trousers.”
“Well, they wouldn’t be wet if someone would allow me to unlace them.”
“Hmm.” Astarion stroked a considering finger along one of Gale’s wrists, which he still held captured in one hand – the other hand remaining lodged firmly against Gale’s dripping cock. “Maybe I’m feeling a bit charitable. Maybe… I’m considering unlacing them for you.”
“Then do it, already,” Gale whined, bouncing on his heels. “Gods damn it, Astarion. I am only moments away from losing control completely, and I warn you that it is unlikely to be a mere leak this time.”
“Wonderful,” sighed Astarion. His hand that was covering Gale’s cock traveled slightly upwards towards the top of Gale’s trousers – having to dislodge itself from the tight press of Gale’s thighs in order to do, nearly pushing Gale over the edge – and grabbed the tip of a lace to begin slowly, slowly, slowly pulling it through its eyelet.
“The only problem I see,” he said, as he continued his agonizingly slow movement, “is that with your hands trapped behind you as they are, you’re not going to be able to hold onto your cock when you go – and what a mess that will be. Unless…”
With the laces now loosened slightly, Astarion dipped his fingers into the top of Gale’s trousers, brushing them against the soaked, bare skin of his cock. Gale heard his own breath hitch audibly at the contact.
“Unless someone were to hold it for you. Someone… altruistic, as I believe you called me earlier.”
“I was saying you weren’t altruistic,” responded Gale, his voice hitching humiliatingly as he attempted to hold onto the final, shattered remnants of his control. Suddenly, the hand on Gale's cock disappeared, and Gale heard the sound of fabric rustling behind him, as though Astarion was undoing the threads of his own trousers and pulling them down enough to free his erection. “And you certainly aren’t disproving me now. I don’t care if you touch my cock or not, please just get me out of these pants before I–”
Oh no, no no. It was over; his body simply could not hold back any longer. Despite how tightly he was attempting to squeeze every muscle of his pelvic region, Gale felt himself beginning to overflow, the dam breaking against his will. A jet of liquid began streaming out of him, the sheer force of it taking Gale by surprise as it began rapidly soaking the front of him and running hotly down his legs.
“Oh, oh, heaven’s bells – it’s too late, Astarion. I’m going.”
“Gale,” Astarion panted, his voice almost worshipful. Gale felt Astarion craning his head over his shoulder to peer down at him wetting himself, before drawing in a sharp breath at whatever he saw there. Suddenly, Astarion’s hand was frantic as he moved to wrench open the remainder of Gale’s laces. “I want to see you, please.”
Gale wasn’t certain exactly what it was Astarion was pleading for; all he could focus on was the powerful flow of piss now pouring forth from him, saturating his clothes and the ground at his feet, the feeling of relief too great for him to even feel the burn of humiliation that he knew he ought to be experiencing. It was almost an orgasmic release, the pressure having built up for so long that finally allowing it to spill over sent pleased shivers across the entire length of Gale’s body.
The sensation suddenly changed, however, when Astarion at last managed to wrestle with Gale’s laces long enough to be able to abruptly yank his trousers down to mid-thigh, baring him completely to the open air before wrapping a shockingly cold hand around Gale’s still-pissing cock.
“Astarion,” Gale moaned, gasping at the startling dirtiness of it – of being unable to stop himself from continuing to go, while Astarion’s tight, icy grasp directed the stream out in front of him, Astarion’s own now-nude cock rubbing swiftly and deliberately along the bare cleft of Gale’s ass.
“I can feel it moving through you,” Astarion hissed, his hips growing more erratic and his grip growing tighter. The sound of Gale’s urine splattering on the sodden ground was jarringly loud, and Gale heard himself let out another broken whimper as the flood continued seemingly endlessly. “Look at you, darling. Look at it coming out of you – gods, there’s so much. Look at those big, hairy thighs of yours; they’re soaked.”
Astarion’s wanton babbling sent a sharp punch of arousal straight to Gale’s midsection, the previously heavy fullness of his bladder being replaced by a different sort of weight settling into his stomach. As his stream began to finally, finally start to slow from where it spurted forth from Astarion’s tight grip, Gale felt himself beginning to grow hard in Astarion’s hand – and from the way Astarion’s hands tightened eagerly around both his wrists and his cock, he had noticed as well.
“You dirty boy,” grinned Astarion against Gale’s ear, his cock continuing to move slickly against him. “Enjoying yourself, are you? Well, finish up, and we’ll see what we can do about that.”
Gale gave one last, harsh groan as he felt himself approaching empty, his once-forceful stream slowing to a dribble that pooled at the junction where Astarion’s hand met his skin.
“Astarion–” he started, at last feeling the sharp heat of embarrassment starting at the tips of his ears – feeling relieved and confusingly aroused, yes, but also drenched and exposed and ashamed. “I didn’t–”
“Turn around,” interrupted Astarion, finally dropping his tight grasp on Gale’s wrists. The tone in his voice brooked no argument, so Gale complied, turning to face Astarion and then giving a gratified sigh when Astarion promptly pulled him in to bring their cocks into alignment, sliding a long-fingered, frigid hand along both of their lengths.
“Hold on,” groaned Gale, “I’m still covered in–”
“I know.” Astarion looked down at Gale’s soaked body, his red eyes wide and riveted. “It’s perfect.”
Gale couldn’t disagree; the filthy-dirty-hot feeling of the still-drying piss coating his skin and clothes as Astarion avidly tugged as both of their lengths was outrageously, shockingly erotic, and Gale was quite certain he was not going to last long – especially once Astarion started to mumble obscene, lust-crazed praise in his ear.
“You were so good, trying to hold it for me,” he purred, his hand a pleasurable blur. “I know how hard you tried, darling. But it was just too much, wasn’t it? You’d had all that wine, and all that water, and you were right there on the edge for so long, weren’t you? Oh, and those little leaks; they felt so good in my hand, so warm. You’re so warm, Gale. And then when you just lost it, lost control, just letting it go all over yourself, gods, I… ohhh.”
Astarion’s hips stuttered, and Gale felt a new sort of warm wetness spreading against his cock as Astarion began to come, his hand pausing as he exhaled sharply against Gale’s ear.
Gale, however, was right on the edge of his own release and did not wish to stop. Feeling bold as Astarion panted limply against him, he brought his own hand down to cover Astarion’s and again began moving it along both of them, Astarion giving a sharp twitch at the post-orgasmic overstimulation. His high, breathy whines only propelled Gale to move faster, and as he continued to slick their hands along the mingled come-and-piss dampness now coating both of their lengths, he felt his own orgasm beginning to build – until it spilled over, cresting with an almost violent pull of his midsection, his cock emptying powerfully for the second time that evening as Gale shouted his release into the skin of Astarion’s neck.
For a moment, there was a tense, heavy silence as they each recovered from their exertions, both of their sticky, softening cocks still grasped loosely in their joined hands.
Then, Gale felt Astarion huff out a drained, satisfied laugh against him – and Gale could not help but to begin laughing too, struck by the absolute absurdity of what had just occurred between them.
“We may have one more use of that Create Water spell,” said Astarion, stepping away from Gale at last and looking him up and down. “A bath. What a fucking mess we’ve made.”
“And whose fault is that?” asked Gale, squinting hopelessly down at his utterly soaked trousers. “This was completely your doing. Though I find that I… enjoyed the experience a good deal more than I would have ever expected to. Who knew that one could still be finding new sources of arousal even at my age?”
“Oh, I suspect there is still plenty more for you to discover,” said Astarion, with a lascivious grin spreading across his face.
“Well, then. Why don’t we get cleaned off and you can tell me all about the erotic ventures I’ve apparently been missing out on?”
Astarion offered Gale a long, slow look that was somehow suffused with threat and promise all at once.
“Gladly.”