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Chapter Text

"Captain Kirk gazed hungrily at Spock, an animalistic gleam in his eyes. Kirk had to use every last ounce of self-control in his body to avoid pouncing on Spock right then and the-"

"Hey, Charlie, do you know where the boss is? He asked me to bring him some coffee, but-"

Charlie yelps and drops her phone. Sam tilts his head and chuckles. The moose, well, dog, stood in the walkway of Charlie's cubicle, towering over her mouse desk.

"Writing fanfiction on the job again?"

"No! I was just..." Charlie can't help but crack a small smirk. "I just needed Kirk and Spock to relieve some stress together, y'know?"

Sam rolls his eyes in amusement and huffs. "This is why I won't watch Star Trek with you anymore."

Charlie laughs and nods her head towards the office elevator. "I think I saw Mr. Shurley head towards the boiler room."

"Got it. Thanks." Sam smiled at Charlie gratefully before scurrying towards the office elevators. Button, enter elevator, button, wait. Sam's ears perked back ever so slightly, he had always been a little nervous around his boss.

Anxiously, Sam grips the coffee for his boss even tighter, almost causing it to leak out of the plastic cup. At least he got to leave his office cubicle for once. Instead of typing boring emails to boring work associates and faxing boring documents to boring managers, Samuel was allowed the privilege of delivering coffee to his stressed, neurotic, god-complex boss. How fun was that? He'd been asked to deliver coffee so many times, he practically knew every manager's order. Mr. Shurley, however, liked his coffee 20% black, 80% whiskey. A disgusting combination that makes your liver weep.

Ding. The elevator doors opened up to the dimly lit boiler room, showing a rather short man messing with the boiler. Mr. Bossman, the big cheese. Mr. Shurley scratched his ear with his front hands rather aggressively. Sam tentatively cleared his throat and stepped out of the elevator, making Mr. Shurley's tail shoot up momentarily. He turned around and cleared his throat, straightening his suit.

"Ah, Samuel! Did you get me my coffee?" Mr. Shurley smiled when Sam handed him the now slightly-cold cup. Sam was about to turn around and quietly walk back upstairs, when his boss just had to make small talk. "So, how's your day? Anything interesting?"

Of course not you fucking loser, I've been sitting at a desk all day, is what Sam would've said, if he wasn't talking to his money-supplier. Forcibly, Sam smiles.

"It's been good." Sam responds plainly, before curtly ending the conversation. Back to the elevator he went. As the doors shut, Sam sighs exhaustedly. Conversations with his boss were usually tiring.

Chapter Text

It's almost as if the small clock on Sam's computer is mocking him. 3:20. 3:21. 3:22. Like a goddamn endless game of stay-in-your-cubicle. How many more emails did the guy have to send? Poor Sam, his tail starting to cramp from sitting so long. Sam was trying his hardest to focus, but it was a tad difficult when your bladder was tugging gently, down in your gut. Fuck.

Sam sighs and frowns. He couldn't just ignore it, could he? Fortunately, his break was coming up in a few minutes. Mr. Shurley wouldn't mind if Sam took his break a few minutes early, would he? Sam grunts softly. He really needed to piss.

The men's bathroom was relatively clean, besides the disgusting acts people did in there. Reguardless, Sam unzipped his dress pants to reveal his sheathed, tight tip. He sighs and throws his head back, some of his mane overshadowing his shut eyes.

Despite the Winchester brothers always making fun of each other for having questionable kinks, this one took the cake. But, at least Dean didn't know about it, right? Nobody knew about it.

Sam shivered softly as his piss poured into the urinal. He couldn't get hard, not at work, and certainly not while he was pissing, total Soak City. He clenches his jaw and attempts to focus on anything but his urine, steeling himself.

Sam was grateful nobody was in the restroom besides him. He could peacefully take a leak, be free to kick those nasty thoughts of his. Usually, since Sam was on a higher floor, the men's restroom was less crowded, which was one of the very few pros of working an office job. And look at that, he was still pissing! He shuddered softly, his bushy tail wagging happily.The feeling of relieving himself felt amazing.

"Someone's having a good time." A slightly lispy voice, mirth in it's tone. Sam gasped softly and opened his eyes, tensing up. He turned his head to look at whoever said that, causing his stream to waver ever so slightly. His tail abruptly stopped wagging.

A shorter man, although a little older, was staring back at Sam in the urinal next to him. The man let out a low whistle as he eyed Sam's stream.

Sam wanted to dig a hole to the center of the earth and bury himself in the boiling lava. He was absolutely mortified. A man was pissing in the urinal next to him, eyeing Sam's cock. And a Corgi, of all people! Sam didn't ever like Corgies, but goddamn, were they this intrusive?

"Glad to see I'm not the only one taking a break early," The shorter man said, much to Sam's confusion. "The name's Gabriel."

Sam just nods curtly, despite everything in him wanting to shout. He quickly finishes up his once-private pissing session, and, despite his embarrassed and hurried state, he washes his hands as Gabriel tries to strike up conversation. He always made sure to wash his hands, with two pumps of soap, the OCD fucker.

Gabriel tilts his head slightly, a coy smile on his face. God, was this guy insufferable, Sam thought. He rushes out the bathroom, his poor little bladder still aching with the need to relieve itself.