Fan Fiction Friday: Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy Really Have to Go in "Rain of Gold"

Illustration for article titled Fan Fiction Friday: Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy emReally/em Have to Go in Rain of Gold

Greetings! After last week's foray into honey-cured Iron Man, we go a step further into the depths of bad erotic fan fiction with this Harry Potter story. While Harry Potter has inspired scads of fan fic, good and bad, all-ages-appropriate and quite naughty, I have noticed that a great many Harry Potter fans are also fans of the human execratory system. I have no idea why this is, but I do know that if the word "watersports" is used in the story summary, it's got a 50% chance of being about Harry. Oh, and I'd seriously consider going to the bathroom before reading this.

"Even Malfoys have to piss," Harry said.

"But not nearly as badly as you do." Smug, so very smug, and that hand brushing over Harry's nipples and chest. The backs of the knuckles sweeping over his groin, barely touching him through his light summer trousers, and still the touch made him shiver.


"Summer trousers" are actually an acceptable phrase for "light pants worn in warm weather," right? Good. Just checking.

"Foolish boy," said his beautiful tormentor.

"I'm not a boy anymore. I'm a married man."

Oh, Ginny. This is the sort of thing that happens when you marry the person you met in middle school.

"What a coincidence, I also have a wife, who has no idea where I am tonight or what I'm doing or with whom." A kiss was pressed to his brow and Harry imagined for a moment that those lips would leave their own cold imprint. "Whatever would your lovely Ginny say if she could see you now?"

She'd probably admit she'd been having an affair with Cho Chang for the last six years.

"We agreed not to talk about her," Harry said sharply.

"Very well, she makes a tedious subject for conversation anyway." Lucius smiled. "Shall we discuss something a little more interesting, muggle politics or the weather perhaps? Or shall we simply settle down to sleep?"

"I can't sleep."

"Why ever not? It's quite late."

"You know why not, I have to piss," Harry said. He heard himself say it and saying it made him want to go even more.

Lucius, however, pretended that he hadn't heard. "You have to what?" he murmured into the nape of Harry's neck.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, caught between the wet lap of Lucius' tongue over his throat and the ache in his bladder. He squeezed his cock through the thin fabric of his trousers. "I have to piss."


Isn't there a spell that can take care of this? Expelliarmus pissiarmus or something?

"Oh, that," Lucius said dismissively. "Well, you ought to have gone before you came to bed. There's nothing to be done about it now, you'll just have to wait until morning."


There's a law that prevents people from using the toilet after they've gone to bed in England? Is it a wizard law or a Muggle law? I bet it's a Muggle law and Margaret Thatcher enacted it.

"I can't wait that long."

Harry's gaze flickered for a moment to the curtained window. He could see the faint yellow glow of a street light through the velvet. It was dark outside, so dark that it might have been long past midnight, but the darkness was a winter illusion. It was November and still only mid-evening. There were so many hours between now and morning, far too many for him to bear without any relief.


And yet I get the feeling we're going to read about every single minute of those hours.

Harry clutched Lucius' shoulder with his free hand. "I'm going to have to go before morning." He kissed the underside of Lucius' jaw. "It's hours since I last went."


Okay, I'm getting confused. I assumed this was part of some sex game between Harry and Lucius, but then - and here is one of those sentences I occasionally type that makes me wonder what the fuck I'm doing with my life - but then why don't they go ahead and pee on each other? Isn't that what they want to do? It seems like Harry had the 72-ounce Big Gulp on his way over to see Lucius, just so his tank could be full for a night of urine-soaked bliss, but here he is complaining about how much he has to pee. This is weird, right?

Lucius lifted his head to look at the digital clock on the bedside table. This was a muggle hotel, expensive, luxurious and anonymous. "It's not so many hours since we met, five I said and you came at ten past. I will not wait for you if you're late next time."



"It was muggle traffic," Harry said impatiently, "and I wanted to go when I met you. I told you that I needed to piss before we went into the restaurant."

"You also said that you weren't desperate, that you could quite easily control yourself while we dinned." Lucius lay down beside him in the huge bed. "If you could wait then, you can wait now."


"The forward progress of time is merely an illusion so you goddamn hold it, Potter."

"No, it's worse now and –"

"Hold it, Harry." Lucius twisted around and pinned Harry's arms over his head in one swift movement. "Just hold it for me and don't even think of wetting the bed."



Harry didn't bother to point out that either of them could have cleaned the bed with a simple spell. That wasn't how the game was played. Lucius used no magical enchantments and no bindings to hold him to the bed. He stayed because he wanted to, because he loved this dangerous, perverse game.


Dangerous? Because if you sleep in a bed of your own cooling urine you might catch a cold?

"I might not be able to help it," Harry whispered, not quite meeting Lucius' eye. With his hand pulled away from his groin he had to press his thighs tightly together and shift on the bed just to ease the urge a little.

"You had better help it because I've got no intention of sleeping in a puddle of Potter piss. If you wet this bed you'll sleep in it wet and alone."

Harry knew that Lucius meant it. Once, in the early days of their liaison he had lost control and it had all flooded out of him, soaking sheets and pillows. Lucius had watched calmly until he had finished pissing and then he had simply got up and left. Harry had cursed him for a bastard then and vowed to have nothing more to do with him, but Lucius was the only one who understood his needs. So he had come back to him. They had come back to each other because Lucius liked this as much as he did.



"What shall I do then?" Harry crossed his legs, grinding them together at the thigh. "I want to piss. I want to piss!"


"But most of all, I want to keep talking about how I want to piss!"

"No, you don't." Lucius slid down the bed until his head rested on Harry's chest. "You want to hold it, to keep it all locked up inside where it feels so good."

"Yes." Harry's answer was quieter than a whisper. For years he had guarded his secret alone and he still felt ashamed to admit what Lucius already knew.

Lucius was his fallen, forbidden angel.

And this was the weirdest Touched by an Angel episode ever.

Lucius, who had seen the hunger in his eyes on that spring day when Harry had gone into the gentleman's toilets at the Ministry and caught him in mid piss. Three weeks later an eagle owl had brought him an invitation, a summons, that Harry had been determined to ignore, but the memory and the desire had been too strong to resist. That had been two years before and now he craved Lucius' attentions and his mastery as much as he craved the physical sensations.


Wait wait wait. Okay, facetious complaining aside, I get theoretically that someone would get off by needing to pee but not peeing; Rule 34 and all that. But how would Lucius be able to tell that from the above situation? Lucius was pissing, but that doesn't seem to be Harry's thing, does it? I mean, if Harry stood at the urinal and had to piss for eight full minutes or something, then I suppose Lucius could infer that Harry enjoyed drinking a good deal and holding it in… if he stayed in the bathroom the whole time and had a decent watch to time Harry with. But unless Harry's eyes were somehow broadcasting "You are peeing and I like peeing but specifically I like not peeing" - a very complex message to convey simple with a facial expression - I don't know how Lucius figured any of this out. On a similar note JESUS CHRIST THIS IS WHAT I SPEND MY TIME THINKING ABOUT GYAAAAAAAAHHHH

"So, are you telling me that you really can't restrain yourself for another second?" Lucius asked.

"I can stop myself pissing at the moment. I am desperate, but not so desperate that I can't control it." Harry shifted restlessly. "Oh, damn, I wish I could hold on until the morning, but I'll never last that long." He gripped his cock through his trousers again. "It's all right for you, you've already been."

"So I have," said Lucius. He placed his hand over Harry's. "I thought for an instant that you were going to piss yourself when I started to go, but then you got far too excited, didn't you, Harry?"


I don't know if there are any urophiliacs in the audience - actually, I'm not even sure if urophilia covers this, since Harry seems to be getting off most on not peeing - but if there are, is this how your lovemaking conversations go?

"I have to pee."
"You have to pee."
"I want to pee."
"You can't pee."
"But I need to pee."
"I won't let you pee."


Because that seems pretty horrible to me. Although I concede the possibility that Harry and Lucius may simply be the most boring piss-fetishists in England.

Harry shivered. "That's why you did it like that."

He remembered Lucius standing in the centre of this huge panelled room, fully clothed with his trousers open and his cock pale against the black material. A toss of his head, so that long hair shimmered in the candlelight and a smile, so haughty and self-assured, while he stood there pissing on the floor. It had made Harry hard, so hard that he couldn't have pissed if his life depended on it. Then Lucius had pushed him back onto the bed and taken Harry's erection in his mouth, but not for long. They both knew that Harry would never hold his bladder through the tremors of orgasm, so he was denied and frustrated, and more aroused than ever.


And there's a big puddle of piss on the floor? Well, that's more like it. Although somewhere there's a House Elf who going to have the "worst week" conversation at his weekly poker game.

"Good," Harry whispered. Lucius' hand was moved with his and over his, kneading his cock, putting pressure on it to help him keep from pissing. "That's so good."


Harry Potter and the Order of the Pee-nix (sorry)

"Is it?"

"Yes, do it some more." Harry's eyes closed. He could feel it all, the ache in his lower abdomen, the flex and release of Lucius' strong fingers and the rub of his cotton trousers over his sensitive cock head. "Oh, Lucius…Fuck!" He sat up abruptly, trapping Lucius' hand between his tightly clenched thighs. The spasm had been so sudden and so sharp that he had almost lost control of himself. Harry bit his lip and willed it to pass.


Harry Potter and the Half-Chub Piss

Lucius pushed Harry's sweat damp hair back off his forehead. "Just concentrate, you can hold it."

"Can't." Harry leant back on the pillows, but he still held Lucius hand between his legs. "Nothing came out that time, but I don't think I can last much longer though, not without relieving some of the pressure." He looked pleadingly at Lucius. "If I could let some out, just enough to wet my crotch, then I could hold the rest, I know I could."


Liar. Guys know trying to stop peeing mid-stream is like stopping when you're skiing down a ski-jump. You can try, but you're going to fall down and you're probably going to break something.

"If I permit you a partial release, if I allow you to wet yourself, " Lucius said slowly, "it is on the understanding that you will not start pissing until I give you permission to do so and that you will stop the moment I order you to stop."


Harry Potter and the Bladder of Secretes (only one more, I swear)

"I will, I promise," Harry said. "I just want to go so much."

"Lay down then, on your back and don't touch your cock."

Harry whimpered when Lucius pulled his hand out from between his thighs, but he did as he was told. He clenched his hands at his sides, fighting the urge to grab his cock. Any second now he was going to be able to pee, and the anticipation, the knowledge that relief was so close made it almost impossible to hold back.


Harry Potter and the Pisser of Azkaban
Thank you! Tip your waitresses!

"Lucius, please…"


Then silence and the faint hum of the traffic in the street outside. Harry held his breath, not daring to move. He couldn't hold on, he just couldn't.


I guess you could say…
/puts on sunglasses
Lucius just fired the starting piss-tol

It took a second for the command to reach Harry's brain and another for his body to obey it. He sobbed as he felt the piss fill his urethra and then gush forth into his trousers.


"No, not yet, please not yet." Harry's head tossed from side to side on the pillow.

"Yes, now." A warm hand covered his spurting cock and Lucius' voice was surprisingly gentle. "Stop it, Harry, stop pissing. Come on, you know that you can stop it if you want to."

And Harry did want to. It was too soon, far too soon for this to end and it would end if he didn't stop pissing, because the flow would get stronger and stronger until there was nothing left. He clenched all his muscles and felt the stream falter. Harry groaned, it was only a trickle, but he was still pissing. He made one last desperate effort and finally managed to stem the flow.


Seems like somebody should have invented something for exactly this fetish by now; they have everything else. Maybe something like those wine stoppers you use after you're taken out the cork. But for penises!

"I've stopped," he said, still too afraid to move. "I've made it stop."

"Good boy." Lucius stroked his hair.

Harry turned his head and kissed his palm. "Thank you." He felt Lucius rub his piss wet thigh and a little shudder went through him. "That's nice…"


Question: If you enjoy peeing yourself, do you de facto also enjoy wearing piss-soaked pants, or lying in a piss-soaked bed? It is part and parcel of the whole fetish? Or are there people out there who enjoying the pissing, but think wet pants/bed thing is gross?

"Sit up," Lucius said after a few moments, "see what you did."

The wetness extended from the middle of stomach to his right hip and then down almost to his right knee. Harry touched the satin covers and found that the bed beneath him was still miraculously dry.


Also: If you have a bed-wetting fetish, do you go with something cheap and/or easily cleanable, or do you go with the finest sheets your urine can ruin? Is it merely a matter of your income and financial class? Are the 1% pissing on satin sheets? Because I'm ready to occupy the bedding section of a Target if they are.

Harry flopped back on the bed. It had been so hard to stop and cutting off the flow had only made his need ten times worse, but the waves of urgency had finally started to subside and he wasn't quite as desperate as he had been before.

He felt Lucius' hands on the waistband of his trousers. His fly was unbuttoned and unzipped.

"Lift your hips," Lucius said.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Getting you out of these disgustingly wet trousers." Lucius yanked them down around Harry's thighs. "I have no intention of spending the rest of the night lying next to someone who smells of piss. It's really quite infantile of you, Harry, to lose control like that."


More questions: So the peeing fetish often to seems to go hand-in-hand with a diaper fetish, if not infantilism. I imagine this is mostly because for a urophile the convenience is outstanding. But are their people who love peeing their pants that find the ideas of diapers gross and morally reprehensible? "Well, sure, I love wetting myself, but grown adults who put on diapers are just weird."

If you can't tell, I love the idea that no matter how unusual somebody's fetish, there's almost certainly another fetish he/she finds gross. It makes me giggle.

Harry glared at him indignantly. "I did not lose control, you agreed that I could let some piss out, remember?"

"As I recall, you asked for my permission to wet your crotch, which I agreed to rather than have to listen to you constantly whining about the state of your bladder." Lucius held up his wet trousers. "I would say that this is rather more than that, wouldn't you?"


Well, that's more a problem with the nature of liquids to conform to the shape of their container, isn't it, Lucius? Are you going to blame his pee for not understand where Harry's pants ended? I mean you can, you're telling Harry to wet his pants, ordering urine around isn't that far off the chart. YOLO, right?

Harry flushed. "Not much more," he said defensively.

"Quite a lot more I would say, and now, of course, I'm going to have to clean up the mess you've made of yourself." Lucius stood up. "Stay there."

Harry watched Lucius pad barefoot into the en-suite bathroom. Lucius had taken of his dragonskin boots when they had gone to bed, other than that he was still fully clothed, while Harry lay naked and damp with his own piss.


For the record, you've been reading well over 2000 words of Harry Potter pee fic, and more importantly you've read over 2000 words of Harry Potter merely talking about peeing. I'm getting paid to do this. What's your excuse?

Lucius came back quickly, so quickly that Harry knew he had used magic to conjure the bowl of steaming, jasmine scented water he carried. The soft, thick towels belonged to the hotel though, but the bundle of deep purple silk Lucius dropped onto his pillow had been transfigured from some more mundane cloth.


WAIT, THEY'RE IN A FUCKING HOTEL?! AND THEY DON'T USE MAGIC TO CLEAN UP? Look, sure, pee on whoever you like in the privacy of your own home, but this is NOT the sort of thing you bring into hotel rooms. First of all, no member of the custodial staff gets paid enough to deal with a urine-soaked bed, let alone a giant puddle of piss on the floor. Second of all, WHAT IF I GET THAT ROOM THE NEXT TIME I GO TO A HOTEL. I DO NOT WANT TO PAY TO SLEEP IN HARRY POTTER'S RESIDUAL PEE.

This behavior is frankly disgusting. They should just jerk off on everything in the hotel room, like civilized people do.

Lucius sat on the edge of the bed. "Open your legs."

Harry spread his legs a little, although he wanted to keep them pressed together.


Has anyone ever been changing a baby's diaper - like a real infant, not doing some sex play - and had the baby starting peeing, like one of those twirly sprinklers you might have played with in your lawn in the summer? For some reason I was reminded of this.

Lucius nudged his thighs apart and Harry winced. The stretch increased the pressure on his full bladder and made him feel so vulnerable that he almost reached down to cover his groin.

"You really are a disgrace," Lucius said.

"But I killed Voldemort!"

"True, but I'm pretty sure no one's wiping Neville Longbottom's ass right now."

He wiped Harry's legs and stomach with the dry part of his trousers. Then he wrung a wash cloth out over the porcelain bowl and Harry saw Lucius smile when the trickle of water back into the bowl made him grimace.

"You're not going to wet the bed, are you?" Lucius said as he squeezed the cloth out for a second, unnecessary time.

Harry shook his head.

I feel like it's important to note that this is the point in editing today's FFF that I finally had to pee myself. I mean, I had to urinate, I didn't "pee myself." I peed in the toilet. And I flushed. I —- I'll just quit while I'm ahead.

"Good." Lucius ran the back of his index finger down Harry's cheek. "I'll bathe you then and we'll say no more about it."

The slow, careful bathing was both a pleasure and a torment. Firstly, Lucius wiped the cloth over Harry's abdomen and thighs. Then he turned his attention to his genitals. He washed Harry's inner thighs and patted them dry with a warm towel. Then he cupped Harry's balls in his hand to wipe them clean and finally he turned his attention to the long, lax cock that lay in its nest of dark curls.

The shaft was bathed with infinite care and, just when Harry thought that he couldn't bear anymore, Lucius rolled his foreskin back and wiped the cloth around his piss slit.


This is simply my personal opinion, but I feel like if you type the words "piss slit" you should really stop and take a moment to think about what you're writing. Just sit back, and really consider what you're doing.

Harry moaned. His hips arched up off the bed. "Don't!"

Lucius chuckled.

"If you don't stop it I'll do the lot," Harry warned. The brief respite was over and he wanted to go as badly as he ever had.

"You will not," Lucius said as he finished towelling Harry off. "How many times must I explain it to you? I will not allow you to piss in the bed, no matter how much you whine and beg."

Harry gasped. "I can't hold on much longer, you know I can't."

You know, I never realized how fucking BORED I could by a 3000+ word fan fic about Harry Potter pissing himself. MOSTLY BECAUSE IT'S ALL ABOUT HARRY POTTER NOT PISSING HIMSELF.

Lucius looked at him, there was a gleam in his eye and a knowledge. He stretched out on the bed beside Harry. "Do you want me to give you permission to piss, my little one? Shall I be soft and sweet? Shall I say poor, poor Harry, look how full his bladder is, it must be hurting him dreadfully, perhaps I really ought to let him wet the bed." Lucius dropped a kiss onto Harry's shoulder. "Is that what you want me to say?"

"Yes, no, I don't know!"

Harry gripped his cock tightly. He groaned, caught between the needs of his body and his own twisted desires.

"I want to wee," he whispered. "I want to wee so much."

"Look, Potter. Don't say "wee." You sound like an American child saying 'pee-pee.' I know we're doing this whole watersports thing, but seriously, have some dignity."

The pressure was there, insistent and unrelenting, pain and pleasure mingled until he didn't know where one ended and the other began.

"You can't," Lucius said. "There's no where for you to go." He rubbed his thumb over Harry's lips. "So are you going to be a good boy and hold it all in for me?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, although they both knew that Lucius was asking the impossible.



Lucius reached over and picked up the soft bundle from the pillow. "These are for you, put them on."


"It's a scuba mask and flippers. Things are about to get freak-ay."

These were pyjamas, fine purple silk pyjamas. Harry tried not to wince and wiggle too much as he scrambled into them.

"And, Harry," Lucius added quietly, "I'm going to be very, very angry if you get even a single spot of wet on your nice new pyjamas."


I like how the author used the British spelling of "pajamas." Really adds that touch of authenticity any good story about a dude peeing himself needs.

The pyjama bottoms were so sheer that Harry knew they would hide nothing despise their dark colour. He touched his groin. He was still dry for the moment, but he didn't know how much longer he could keep the floodgates closed.

"Come here," Lucius said.

He rolled on his back and Harry lay down carefully beside him. Lucius fingers combed through his hair. Harry bit his lip and buried his face in Lucius shoulder. He breathed in the scent of black cashmere and expensive aftershave. It would be all right, Lucius would make everything all right. He was safe, here in his lover's arms.


Unless Hans Brinker here is going to stick his thumb in the dyke, so to speak, I think you still have a problem, Harry.

Harry whimpered and rolled against Lucius. He draped his leg over the older man's solid thigh and pushed his aching groin hard against it. The pressure helped just a little, but he was so full, so very full.

"Hush," Lucius said. "Touch me." He placed Harry's hand on the flat of his belly.

Harry's fingers shook as he fumbled with Lucius' zipper and untangled his hard penis from his underwear. He wrapped his hand around the familiar shaft and felt the quick, sharp thrill of lust that he always felt when he touched Lucius this way. Harry felt his own frantic-to-piss cock harden against Lucius' leg. It wouldn't last. He needed to piss far too desperately for it to last, but it helped him control himself while he fondled Lucius' erection.


Really? 3500 words about your bladder control and you're just going to give Lucius a handy? Erotic Harry Potter pee fic, I am disappoint.

Lucius sighed. "Just play with it."

That meant that he wasn't to make Lucius come, not yet, that was for later, when Harry had pissed himself dry. He moaned and clamped his legs around Lucius' thigh. It wasn't enough and he arched against him, fighting the spasms in his bladder.

"I got to go!" Harry grasped his cock and squeezed it painfully hard. "Lucius, I've got to do a wee."



"Not just yet," Lucius forced his own hand between Harry's clenched thighs. "Calm down and the urgency will pass."

"It won't! I've got to wee. Oh, please, I've got to do a wee!" Harry rocked backwards and forwards against Lucius' side. He shuddered as another spasm went through him. "Oh, god, Lucius, don't let me wee. I won't go…I won't go…"

Harry groaned and arched up off the bed. He felt the hot piss burst from his cock, only a spurt, only a single spurt, but the beginning of the end.

He collapsed back next to Lucius, who pulled his hand out from between Harry's legs and fastidiously shook off the wet drops.

"Harry, what did I tell you about wetting the bed – "

"Fuck the bed!" Harry rolled away from Lucius and up onto his knees. He doubled over, holding himself with both hands and still a second spurt escaped. "I'm wetting myself…oh, god, I'm wetting." He looked wildly around and his frantic gaze fell on the bedside table. "The basin, give me the basin, I can do a wee in the basin! Hurry, Lucius, please."


Ways I know FFF has ruined me #496: Rather than be glad Lucius isn't using Harry as an in-room water fountain, I'm actually annoyed I've read 4000 words of this nonsense and Harry's just going to piss in a bucket.

"Hold it steady," he begged when Lucius placed the basin in the middle of the bed. Harry fumbled desperately to free his cock from his pyjamas. He felt it jerk, just as it did when he was aroused, which he was. "Fuck me after," he said, "fuck me hard, but I've got to do a wee first. Oh, please I've got to do a wee…" Another little jet of piss shot from his cock just as he finally freed it from his pyjamas. He managed to tug his pyjamas down around his thighs. "Look, Lucius," he whispered, both appalled and fascinated. "Look, how swollen I am."

The bulge extended across his lower abdomen, rock hard and solid. Lucius traced the back of his hand across it, the barest touch and Harry shuddered and spurted more piss.

"Wee," Harry moaned, "got to wee."


"Go on then, do a wee in the basin, Harry."


Harry tried to obey him, but when he finally relaxed his throbbing muscles the first jet of piss shot across the bed, leaving a long golden splash on the white covers. Quite incapable of stopping or even of slowing the velocity of his piss Harry angled his cock downwards and spread his trembling thighs. The cold ceramic basin touched the insides of his legs as his piss steamed out. It hit the scented water in the bottom of the little basin and splashed up onto his inner thighs.


Meanwhile, there's a Hilton hotel manager relaxing at home who has no idea how terrible a day he's going to have at work tomorrow.

"I'm doing a wee." Harry shuddered. "Oh, Lucius, I'm doing a wee."

Look, if there were any indications that there was some infantilsm going on here, that'd be one thing. But for all the fucking nonsense we've read, there's not been a hunt of such a fetish. So I contend to you thart Harry Potter is not talking like a baby right now as part of his sexual fan tasies, but that HARRY POTTER IS AN IDIOT.

"I know. I can see it coming out."

"I am peeing!"
"I see you pee!"
"I see you seeing me pee!"
"How do people have sex without stating every single thing as it happens?"
"I don't know!"
"We have the best sex life ever!"

Both Lucius' hands were clasped around the basin, but he leant forward, his long hair a sweep of yellow, falling forward into the golden torrent of Harry's piss. He kissed Harry's stomach and flicked his tongue across his contacting bladder.

Harry moaned and the stream grew even stronger. "Can't stop it, can't hold it…I'm weeing. Oh, god, you're watching me wee…"


Fuck it, Voldemort was right. If the enslavement of the Muggle world was what was necessary to prevent me from reading this ridiculous fic where Harry Potter keeps saying "wee" all the goddamn time, then that's a small price to pay. Someone get me a goddamn Horcrux, stat.

Lucius sat back on his heels. "I like to watch you, Harry. I like to see what a wicked, dirty boy you are." His cock poked out of his open fly, rigid and red, twice as hard now as when Harry had caressed it.

"Want to touch it, want to hold it…but I can't stop…I can't stop weeing."


Harry looked down and saw that the basin was full almost to the brim. He shivered and tried in vain to halt the flow. Then it spilled over the top of the basin, over Lucius perfectly manicured hands and onto the bed. He watched his piss pour out of the slit in his jerking cock, knowing that he was helpless to prevent it and that knowledge excited him even more.

"Oh," he murmured, "oh, yes, please, it feels like heaven."

"Does it, my dear?" Lucius let the basin tip over onto the bed. He moved around so that he sat behind Harry and he encircled his waist. "Give it to me," he commanded softly.

The stream had finally started to weaken, but Harry was still going when Lucius' hand replaced his own on his cock. Harry relaxed back against him with his legs spread wide. "So good," he whispered, "so good to wee." He pressed down and another strong spurt shot forth.



Lucius simply held him, rubbing his thumb back and forth just below the head of Harry's cock, until the stream slowed to a final trickle. Then he fisted Harry's cock, once, twice, three times. Harry arched upward with a strangled scream and came violently, his come mingling with the piss still dripping from his cock.


Really? That's it? God I'm just going to drink myself to death. Except then I'd have to urinate, and now I never want to do that again. Shit.

Harry lay curled on his side in the piss wet bed, with his head pillowed on Lucius' chest. He was exhausted and there was a dull, residual ache in his bladder, but he was also sated and utterly content. He sighed sleepily when Lucius started to play idly with his nipple.

"If you were mine," Lucius began.


Does Harry have a fucking concussion? Is that why the simplest of conversations take him 10 fucking minutes to parse? Is this the fucking problem?

"Mine to keep, mine to command, do you know what I would do?"

"No," Harry murmured. He was too tried to object to the idea of belonging to Lucius.



"I would wait until you were desperate to piss, far more desperate than you were tonight. Then I would bind up your cock with the tie from my hair. So that you couldn't piss, no matter how badly you wanted to and once you were bound I would mark you, here and here." Lucius touched Harry's left nipple and then his right. "Two rings, not silver or gold, but platinum, only the best for you, my dear."


Nailed it!

Harry's cock twitched and his first conscious thought was that they couldn't do it because Ginny would see the nipple piercings. She would see, and she would be shocked and horrified by them. He resented her then, suddenly and fiercely, because tomorrow he would to go home and pretend none of this had happened. He would have to eat Sunday lunch with the Weasleys and listen to Ron and Hermione bickering, when all he really wanted to do was sleep, wank and let the piss trickle out of his weary bladder whenever it wanted to.



He reminded himself that he loved Ginny. He didn't love Lucius, what they shared was deeper, darker and far more primitive than love. Harry reached out and took his hand.


Ah yes, that primitive need man has to pee in front of Jason Isaacs and get banned from decent hotels. It's part of our DNA.

"When will I see you again?"

"Two weeks," said Lucius. "We'll go to the Edinburgh hotel, meet me there at six on the fourteenth and don't be late."


"No, remember? They told us we couldn't come back enough they found the bathtub full of our urine and all those bath toys?"

Harry was surprised. Usually they only managed to meet three or four times a year, which was sometimes as much as he thought his system could stand, but his heart leapt at the thought of being with Lucius again so soon. He propped himself up on one elbow, so that he could look down into Lucius' face.

"Why so soon?"

"Why not?" Lucius said softly and then he kissed him to silence any more questions. "I have a task for you, a challenge," he said against Harry's mouth.


"And that challenge is to try and go 60 seconds without interrupting me with any stupid questions that would be obviously answered if you just kept your mouth shut for a minute and let me keep talking. All right?

"What's that?" Harry asked, this too was a departure from their usual routine.


"For the next two weeks you may piss whenever and wherever you wish, on one condition."

"Which is?" Harry said.

"You failed again."

"That you never, under any circumstances, piss in the toilet. Piss in the shower or the sink, go behind a tree in the park or do it up against a wall. Piss in Ginny's favourite vase or in an empty wine bottle, but don't use the toilet."

Harry kissed Lucius' lips. "What, not even if I really need to go?"


Lucius smiled. "Not even if you're desperate."

THE END. Normally this is the part where I'd talk about how much I need to drink to forget the story, but given the nature of the tale, I think I'm just going to go huff ether for a few hours.


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Pepe Thunder

That was way too long...