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From: (Anonymous)

Please enjoy this utter filth haha. Prompt here: https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/7005.html?thread=2526557#cmt2526557

“How much longer do you think he’s going to take?” Nile hissed out, inevitably jostling Booker as she paced inside the small storage closet. They had been stuck in there for more than two hours after the target had interrupted their search of his room, and while they had heard him go off to another part of the house, they couldn’t risk discovery and so they had to wait in there until he left again.

“Well, we know he has his meeting at eight,” Booker said, far too rationally, “so he definitely has to be gone by then,” and Nile’s head thunked against the wall. “Fuck, I hope he’s gone before eight, that’s four hours from now,” she complained, crossing her legs a bit oddly as she perched against the wall, and Booker raised an eyebrow. “I mean, we aren’t in any particular danger—I know it’s not the most comfortable place to wait, but we should be able to make it until eight,” he said, a little confused on why she was panicking so much.

“Maybe you can wait until eight,” she said a little darkly, and he just left her to her mood for a while, killing time by glancing through the assortment of ratty old magazines which were in one corner of the closet. His attention was drawn by a rhythmic tapping noise, which at first he worried was someone knocking on the door, but then he saw that it was Nile, tapping her foot impatiently against the floor. “Bit loud,” he commented, and she dutifully stopped, though she still squirmed a bit, and he looked at her closer. “Are you okay?” He asked, because before he thought she was just impatient to leave or sick of his company or something, but now she was starting to look genuinely distressed.

“I...” she grimaced. “I don’t think I can wait until eight,” she explained, and he frowned. “Why not?” He asked, still confused, and she groaned, realising that she was going to have to spell it out for him despite her embarrassment. “I really need to pee, Book, okay? Like, really badly, it’s starting to hurt a little and I don’t think I can hold it until eight,” and, oh, now that he knew, it all made sense, the way that she was flushed and couldn’t hold still. “Oh,” he said dumbly, eyes raking over her. “Oh, geez, Nile, I’m sorry—“ he looked around the room quickly for some kind of bucket or something she could use in an emergency, but didn’t see anything at first glance. “I’m sorry, Nile, I don’t really see anything suitable—I’m sure you can make it,” he said encouragingly. “Maybe he’ll leave a lot sooner, maybe he has errands to run before his meeting.”

About thirty minutes later, two things were crystal clear: the man had no intention of leaving any time soon, they could hear him whistling cheerfully and moving around the house, and Nile definitely couldn’t wait another three and a half hours. Her squirming had gotten exponentially worse, and she had gotten to the point where she was desperate enough to grab at her crotch every few minutes or so, holding herself tightly to stave off the inevitable, groaning as a pang of need went through her.

It was becoming extremely inconvenient, Booker thought, because he was torn between his mind and his traitorous body. Intellectually, he felt extremely sorry for Nile, who was clearly having a terrible time and who was likely horribly embarrassed that he was seeing her like that. His cock, though, heard her moans and desperate gasps and drew a completely different conclusion.

“Book,” she whined, grabbing herself even tighter and practically hopping up and down. “Book, fuck, I need you to help me, I can’t hold it much longer, I really can’t,” and he looked around the closet again, searching for anything she could possibly use. His eyes alighted on a large stack of folded bath towels in the corner, nice and soft and clean, and he tilted his head, considering. “Okay, Nile,” he said, soothingly. “I think I have an idea, I don’t really know what else we can do.” “Anything,” she begged, unzipping her pants to relieve a little bit of the pressure. “Fuck, hurry, Book, or I’m going to piss my pants, God I can’t believe this,” she babbled, so desperate that she was nearly beyond embarrassment.

“Just—“ he pressed a hand to his eyes, rubbing lightly to try and get himself under control. He was a horrible person, he realised, to be turned on by her whimpers and bitten-off moans under these circumstances. “Just get your pants down, I’ll help you.” She obeyed, pushing them out of the way and squatting a bit as she waited for him to come over with what she had found, and she frowned when she saw the stack of towels. “What’s this, Book?” She hissed. “I thought you found a cup or something, what am I supposed to do with this—“ she was cut off by a fresh wave and pressed her fingers to herself with a groan.

“I think it will work,” he told her. “These are made to be really absorbent and it’s a nice thick stack of them.” Carefully, he reached beneath her, pressing the stack of towels up against her crotch, and she moaned louder than before. “Are you kidding, Book, what if they’re not enough? I’m going to end up peeing all over your hand,” she hissed. “I can’t just let go on a bunch of towels, it’s filthy,” and he sighed. “Nile, we don’t really have any other option unless you can hold it. It’s better than going on the floor, no?” She looked torn for a moment, and he resettled the bundle of towels, pressing them against her tighter to make sure to catch any leakage, and she gasped, her eyes going wide.

She could hardly think about anything except how badly she needed to go, and yet—that felt surprisingly good, she realised. Every time he adjusted the towels, the terrycloth rubbed right over her clit and brushed against her folds, and fuck, this was really not the time. “Stop moving the towels, Book,” she gritted out, but he kept shifting their positioning, pressing them more firmly against her crotch, and she hoped that he would think her loud groan was because of how desperately she needed to pee. “Just trying to make sure you’re covered,” he replied, and the sight of him bending between her legs, brow furrowed in concentration, wasn’t helping the situation.

“Okay,” he told her, hand pressing firmly on the towels and sending a jolt through her. “You can go ahead and let go, Nile,” he encouraged. “It’s not that easy,” she sighed. She needed to go extremely badly, but her whole brain was hard-wired to wait until she had privacy and a toilet, and she decidedly had neither at the moment. “It’s going to feel so much better when you just let go,” he cajoled, and she whimpered as she let a small trickle out, reflexively stopping it almost immediately. “Come on, let it out,” he murmured, and the dam gates broke. She started to pee a steady stream into the towels, moaning in relief as the pressure finally started to ease. “Oh fuck yes,” she gasped out as she felt the wet spot growing on the towel beneath her. She had never had to wait quite that long before going before, and the relief was overwhelming. “Oh thank god,” she murmured as she continued to wet the towels, and if her hips jerked a bit, her body confused and chasing friction from the bundle pressed up against her, well, she hoped he hadn’t noticed. She didn’t think he had, anyway—though his hand was still holding the towels firmly, his eyes were on her face. “Feel better?” He asked cautiously, and she nodded, the stream starting to slow. “You have no idea,” she gasped out. “I’ve never had to go that badly before, that was terrible.”

Finally, finally she was empty, sagging back against the shelves, breathless with relief, but he was still holding the pile of towels against her, a steady pressure. And then he moved them to lightly rub at her—trying to wipe up any stray drops, her mind supplied—and a choked noise slipped from between her teeth. “Book,” she warned, and he rubbed at her one more agonising time and she couldn’t take it anymore. “Book, please,” she begged, and she wasn’t sure if she was begging for him to stop or to keep going. His eyes snapped up to her then, and she squirmed under his gaze. “That felt really good,” she admitted, and his dopey smile, always happy when she was happy, just made her more embarrassed. “No, I mean....fuck,” she muttered, her hips arching slightly so she could press against the towels he still had there. “I mean it felt really really good. The tremendous relief of finally going, watching you sitting there between my legs, so devoted to helping me, and every time you moved those damn towels they rubbed against me in just the right way, and fuck, Book.” She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the look on his face. “I know it’s really weird, but I’m so turned on right now that think I could come, like, immediately,” and she had anticipated a lot of reactions from him but she didn’t expect him to hop to his feet, dropping the used towels to the floor and pulling her into a deep kiss.

“Thank God,” he enthused in between passionate kisses, “that you liked it too, because I’m hard as a rock right now and I felt like the worst kind of pervert for getting off on your desperation. But holy hell, the noises you made,” he gasped out, and she flipped their position, backing him against the shelves and grinding desperately against his thigh as they kissed. “Fuck me, Book, please,” she begged, and he scrambled to undo his pants so that he could comply. She made a wounded sound when he sank into her, sucking marks that faded in an instant down his neck, while he set a bruising pace and babbled absolute filth. “Wish I could have filmed that to show you,” he confessed, and she whimpered, clenching hard around his length. “When you started to let go, you gave this little cry and the look of relief on your face, holy shit it got me going,” he admitted, and she was making nearly as enticing noises as he fucked her. “So close, Book,” she warned, and he sped up the speed of his thrusts, one hand cupping her breast and rubbing over her nipple, tugging one earlobe between his teeth, and she cried out as she climaxed, her rhythmic clenching pulling him over the edge as well. He stayed buried in her for a moment, catching his breath and trading lazy kisses with her, and then she shot him a grin as he carefully pulled out. “Okay, that was unexpected,” she teased, and they both started laughing, slumping down to the floor next to each other, their clothes still in disarray, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She glanced briefly at the time. “Still two hours to go until eight,” she remarked, then smirked at him. “Hope you don’t have to pee between now and then, because we used all the towels.”

From: (Anonymous)

unf. OP here and this was exactly what I was hoping for

From: (Anonymous)

So glad it was what you were hoping for!

From: (Anonymous)

I don’t think I’ve ever read stuff with this kink but somehow this prompt got me interested and you did a good job 👏 Booker and I are in the little boat over the desperation. 👍

From: (Anonymous)

Thank you! I’m very flattered that you gave it a try even though it’s not usually your thing :)

From: (Anonymous)

This is SO not my thing but the way you wrote this… So hot! I love all the details of her moaning and whimpering just because of having to pee, and inadvertently driving him crazy. Them just going for it immediately afterwards was perfect. Amazing job!!!