Work Text:
It was getting bad.
Normally, Viktor was intentional about his bathroom breaks. He had a sort of routine, drinking and expelling the water his doctor demanded he drink at the same times, in the same quantities, every, single, day. Today, he just so happened to be helplessly enraptured in his work. He still—albeit begrudgingly—managed to drink a glass to avoid the lightheadedness or fatigue. Regardless, however, he couldn’t seem to find a good time to get up and go to the bathroom.
No matter. He would be done working on calibrating the device soon, in which case he would take care of his needs.
But oh, his leg was so sore and he was so tired. Everything in him wanted to finish these trials and hurry home.
He sighs, squeezing his thighs together slightly. Crossing his legs is not an option with his condition, so he just has to bear with it if this is the path he chooses. Which, it is. His bladder pangs helplessly, but he’s too stubborn to do anything about it.
He runs through the experiment again, starting at the very beginning. It’s short and self explanatory, only a means of collecting data for energy input and output. He feels a pressure in his lower stomach again, this time more insistent, a small tingle inside him. He sighs, wincing, letting it pass over. As the pain recedes, he picks up where he left off, and records his observations.
The next few moments are peaceful. He almost forgets how badly he has to pee as the feeling hides away as he distracts himself with his work. His hands are busy, and the numbers are averaging out nicely, with an average in the 60s and minuscule standard deviation. He sighs, relaxing as he sets the tools down on his desk.
Letting his guard down is a mistake, however. He quickly feels his desperation rear its head again, this time more aggressively, forcing him to shove his hands between his legs and squeeze his crotch to prevent himself from wetting his pants right there. Really, he knows only a drop or so would’ve leaked through, but his pants are light brown. Theres no hiding that.
Viktor winces, taking his hands off as a cramp begins in his gut. He should’ve just gone earlier when he had the chance, but he’s done now, and he can go. The idea of finally letting this out is blissful.
“Viktor?” Jayce opens the door to the lab, the light cascading over his workspace before he even turns to see him.
Well, so much for quick relief.
“Yes…?” He grabs his cane, hoisting himself up to face him. His face is invisible with the harsh light behind him, but he knows his silhouette—his voice. He watches as Jayce walks closer. He really hopes this can all be over soon. There’s only so much time he feels like he has until he bursts, and things are not looking promising.
“And here I thought I would be the lunatic for working this late.” Jayce laughs halfheartedly, his expression unreadable in the dark. He seems to read Viktor’s mind, then, as he moves to turn the light on for the room. He turns to the work strewn across the bench and scrutinizes it, picking up their gadget.
Viktor shuffles to accommodate him, giving him space to properly read the work. His curiosity over what Jayce may think temporarily overrides his need to go. Standing at least has the added benefit of being able to lean on his cane and focus on clenching his bladder, meaning he can afford to spend some of his attention on caring about Jayce’s opinion.
“This is just what I was gonna come in here and do,” Jayce begins, turning the device over to inspect it. Another surge of desperation wells up inside of him, stronger than the others. He stumbles momentarily, obviously startling the man before him. Jayce reacts quickly, “Are you alright?” He says.
“Yes, of course,” Viktor clicks his teeth, his eyebrows wrought together. Jayce moves out of his way of the seat, which he gladly takes again. He rests his head on his hand, his elbow on the desk. He tries not to be too overt about his discomfort, but obviously fails. His bladder is basically begging for relief at this point, a gnarly cramping welling up inside of him. There’s this subtle pleasure every time he imagines finally making it to the bathroom and releasing, but he shoves the thought away to prevent any further discomfort.
Jayce continues looking over the work, looming over Viktor’s shoulder and talking. Viktor cannot be bothered to listen much at all. He mentally notes his suggestions for improvement in the experiment and design efficiency, but the details become a blur among the pleading inside his head for some way to just let go already. The tingling between his legs is surreal. He feels sick with how badly he has to go, and wincing is only making Jayce turn to him with too much real concern. He doesn’t want to give him the wrong impression—his health is fine. But jesus, does he have to pee.
Jayce keeps blabbering about whatever sciency bullshit Viktor would be enamored by thirty minutes ago. But his legs are trembling, and his bladder screams.
“You don’t look so good,” Jayce says, holding the back of his hand to Viktor’s forehead. “You should probably get home and get some rest.”
Yes, Viktor thinks. Finally, a way out. “I suppose you are right… Let us continue our chat later, yes?” He grabs his cane again, making a movement to get up. Like that, He feels his bladder spasm and a spurt of piss escape him.
It’s brief, probably not even enough to seep through his pants. But there is no way he is glancing down to check, not with how much attention he already put on himself by struggling to get up because of it.
Jayce’s hand is on his shoulder immediately, hoisting him up. “Too tired, yeah? I should probably get back to my place anyway,” He begins, obviously trying not to make Viktor feel pitied.
Under normal circumstances, this would be wonderfully appreciated. But and however, he has to pee. So. Fucking. Bad. He nearly sobs when Jayce offers him an arm, because every moment of reprieve pushes him closer to what he feels like will be torrents of piss soaking his pants. So, he nudges Jayce’s arm off his shoulder, shaking his head.
“I will be alright, I’m merely drowsy. And, perhaps dehydrated.” He jokes, only to himself. Jayce just furrows his brows in concern, but doesn’t push it. Viktor only gets a step, though, before he’s caught off guard by another wave of need.
He braces himself against the wall, unable to reach a hand down and grab his crotch both for loss of stabilization and loss of pride. He squeezes his muscles together and prays, sincerely, that he doesn’t piss himself on the spot. He feels it soak his underwear—at least his underwear. It stops, or, he thinks it does. He is so distinctly wet that he honestly can’t tell if he’s still peeing or not, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t given by the fact that when he glances down theres only a small stain on the front of his pants.
“Are you sure—“ Jayce starts, but Viktor trembles again, his bladder catching him off guard. These intervals are mercilessly decreasing, and he knows where this is going. He winces his eyes shut and tries, fruitlessly, to prevent it. He feels himself groan out something quiet, and lean entirely against the door. He wants to resist sliding into the floor, or sitting on a chair so that he doesn’t flood it with his piss.
Instead, he feels urine start to soak through his underwear. It starts small, and hot, and it quickly rushes down the insides of his thighs and into his shoes. His cheeks are on fire, he’s so fucking embarrassed, and in a way it still hurts. It will keep hurting until it’s all gone.
But while he releases it feels so, so fucking good. He shuts his eyes and screws his face shut, his dignity absolutely forsaken. His legs are trembling beneath him, but the pleasure is unmistakable. He’s still pissing himself, and he feels like he could make it out of here without completely emptying his bladder onto himself—without making himself a complete fool, but it is irresistible. He already started, he wants to let go. It hurts so bad, and feels so good, and his cock still has a few hearty spurts left in it.
He squeezes them out and sighs, looking up to avoid seeing the puddle at his feet. Jayce stands behind him, probably in shock, but his legs are still wobbling and his chest aches from embarrassment. “Do not say a word, Jayce.” He says barely above a whisper, his voice broken and raw.
He hears his tongue click like he’s about to speak, and he braces himself, but it never comes. A supportive hand hits his shoulder, and he nearly crumbles.
Jayce’s face enters his vision slowly, as he turns his head to meet him, and he lets out a shaking exhale. He looks at him with big eyes, and it takes him a moment to register that he’s still trying not to say anything.
“Okay, fine.” He deflates, exhausted and humiliated. “You may speak.”
“It’s okay.” Jayce says. “I don’t really care. I think I keep spare clothes in here for when I want to head straight to the forge after our work. If we’re lucky, you can borrow a pair of my pants.” His eyes are forgiving and kind, and Viktor wants to vomit.
Instead, he puts his hand over where Jayce’s sits on his shoulder. “Thank you,” He breathes. “Shall we check?” He tilts his head hopefully.
“Yeah. I’ve got you.” Jayce smiles.