Work Text:
When you wake up, your bladder aches. The June sun burns red streaks like long nails dragged across baby milk skin into your eyes, and everything is as slow and slippery as warm molasses. Your body feels like melted butter and sludge, heat lethargically curling down your flesh, making you want to go crazy. You crawl out of the cozy mattress of your bed and walk to the bathroom before you can wet yourself, feeling extremely embarrassed as you do so. Before you can open the bathroom door, though, a hand stops you.
“I see that you are awake,” says Kirei Kotomine. He had allowed you to stay the night as an acquaintance at his house, with you having no place else to crash at beforehand. You want to thank him for being so generous, but right now is not the time. You feel as if you are going to wet yourself at any moment now, like some frightened child snuggled in her fluffy blush dream pajamas and ankle-high patched oversized socks.
“Yeah, I am,” you reply hurriedly. “May I use the bathroom, Kotomine-san?”
For a moment you think that he is going to say yes, but instead his skin, rough and knotty like weary swamp tree trunks, crinkles between his eyebrows in what seems to be annoyance, or maybe disapproval. “Why don’t you just go outside instead?” he asks.
Your bladder aches even more now. It feels as if there are hands deep inside your gut, bruising the flesh and turning it a pretty petunia purple like hands wringing your throat with hot lotion sweat. You’re seriously about to panic right now, and his stupid sense of humor is just wasting more of your time; you need to go now.
“That’s not funny…” you mumble. “I have to go, really badly, Kotomine-san.”
“I was not joking.” Fuck.
What the hell is wrong with this guy? Who tells someone to go piss outside when they’re inhabiting your house? What kind of 30-year-old acts like that? You a little wetness slide down your leg, slick like blood, and feel your cheeks burn, hot and cruel and red like Indian summer fouled by pathetically starved mosquitoes. You’re going to piss yourself in front of a priest. You’re going to piss yourself in front of Kirei Kotomine, of all people. You’re a college student, for god’s sake. Who pisses themselves past the age of ten, especially in front of other people? You feel as if you are being needlessly dramatic, but the sheer humiliation of wetting yourself in front of a grown and respected man is, and will be, too much to handle. What if he laughs at you? What if he tells somebody, anybody? What if he calls you disgusting and dirty? The thoughts just keep wriggling into your brain like eager slobby slimy maggots over and over and over again.
“Did you wet yourself?” Kirei asks derisively. “If I recall correctly, you are nineteen, yes? I recall you telling me that your mother did not take care of you when you were a child. Did she not train you to hold your bladder? How unfortunate.”
You were right, after all. He looks like he’s holding back a mocking grin. Your throat tightens as if there are porcelain pale lilies intricately needled and threaded and lopped throughout the skin where your timid and ant-sized voice lies. More of your urine desperately attempts to release itself from your bladder as if to respond back to this humiliation, but you hold it back, trying to maintain the last flowery china-vase piece of dignity. This is gross, this is so gross and weird and terrible and you hate it.
“Well, as a priest, it is my duty to relieve people of their suffering,” Kirei finishes. And then he stands behind you, leans you forward, and presses his forearm against your abdomen.
Tears start welling up in your eyes. You writhe and wriggle and wriggle and writhe and try so hard to rip away from him but he’s so strong, it’s like he’s sticking his fingers into your intestines and fishing around for your ribs and find them snapping the bones in half and throwing it away like garbage, he won’t let you go and you feel like you’re going to vomit – he places a hand beneath your chin and he’s much taller than you so he’s looming over you like black corrupted mud, you can’t see his eyes but you feel as if they’re grinning sharply by themselves, he’s probably laughing at you right now and you just can’t hear it – but instead your bladder starts emptying itself. It doesn’t come out all at once, it slowly releases itself because you keep resisting, but his arm is a comfort to your aching lower body and this sickly yellow starts trickling out, down and down and down your legs, except most of it gets caught in your panties. There’s a wet spot that’s easily visible on your sweatpants, and it keeps expanding and dampening the more you release that warmth, the more you wet yourself like a five-year-old toddler. Kirei talks so much, never shuts his mouth – you know this even though you’ve only known him for a month – but during this he doesn’t say a word, you just feel his breath in and on your messy tangled hair. Your piss keeps coming out, and you don’t know how your bladder can maintain such a large thing of liquid, and you can smell the faint stench of piss even through your pants, making you spill your tears even more.
Eventually, though, the steady stream of urine stops. Your panties are now soaked and your dignity has crumbled like a withering lavender flower with no motherly warmth of the summer sun that is a red bone-creak desert, but it’s done now. Kirei Kotomine releases you from his finger-sewn-tight hold and gently touches your shoulder, but you violently move yourself away from him. Disgusting, disgusting. You are absolutely filthy, and don’t deserve to be called an adult. Maybe you should call yourself an animal instead.
After all short silence, Kirei says, “You can use the bathroom now.”
You leave right after you take a shower.