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The spa was all window, a careful sphere of glass nestled neatly in between palm trees. In the middle distance, a waterfall rushed from glistening black stone and vanished behind a line of misty trees. The clouds hung low, pressing in against the ceiling.
Harry didn't know where they were, which city, which country. Somewhere warm and bright, he assumed, but it was a dreary day, rain blowing against the walls of the spa in a thin, unsteady spray. Behind the tapestry of clouds, the sun was a meek knot of white, barely visible.
Floating idly in the lightly salted pool, Harry watched the lights glimmer on the surface of the water and hush over the glass above. He felt loose, a little dazed with the warmth and the excessive relaxation.
Which was why, when he looked over at Draco and saw him scowling up into the rain, he couldn't help but snort into his drink.
Draco made a face. "One would think with the amount of money I'm shelling out for us to come here, they'd do something about all this rain." He glared past the swim-up bar and up at the palm trees fluttering like flags in the harsh winds.
"One would think," Harry teased, a mostly successful imitation of Draco's posh drawl.
There'd been a summer storm at Draco's fourteenth birthday party, Draco had told him. Instead of moving the elaborate garden party into one of the manor's fifty-two rooms, or conjuring tents or a floating roof, Lucius and Narcissa had spent an outrageous three thousand galleons for a Hungarian coven of weather witches to book an emergency portkey and fight back the clouds, all so tha t a teenaged Draco could nibble on Hors-d'œuvre in uninterrupted golden sunlight.
Grinning into his Gin Fizz, Harry decided to not mention this anecdote. He couldn't fault Draco for having been a spoiled child, and couldn't honestly claim he minded it. After all, as an adult, sharp and decadent and filthy rich, Draco loved nothing more than to spoil Harry. "You deserve the moon on a string," Draco liked to whisper to him, in moments private and silly and warm, and habitually spent a small fortune on pampering Harry.
"I like this place. It's beautiful," said Harry, because he did, and because he knew Draco needed to hear it. He indicated the whirlpools dotted around the main pool area, the gentle indoor waterfalls, the golden bubbles of Lumos drifting up slowly from the water and collecting under the ceiling, where they eventually burst and ran in glittering paths down the glass and back into the water.
A secret smile spread over Draco's face, obscured partially by a fastidious and all-important eye-roll. "Yes, well. You're easily impressed."
Harry took a long sip from his Gin Fizz, emptying the frothy glass. Licking his lips, he tasted an echo of the orange blossom water and the tangy burst of lime. Like a lemon meringue pie, the dripping wet barman had described the drink, and Draco had ordered it for Harry at once. Harry swam a few paces towards Draco, weightless in the warmth of the water, wrapped his arms around his middle and let Draco kiss the sweetness from his lips.
"Would you like another?" Draco asked, hands lazily trailing up the back of Harry's thighs under the water, "or are you starting to feel it?"
Harry had only had one cocktail. The gin may have added to the pleasant buzz of warmth through his limbs, but he wasn't going to feel drunk after one cocktail, especially one leaning quite so heavily on syrup and sweet cream.
He was about to tell Draco this when the path of Draco's hands on him changed the meaning of his question. They went up over the curve of his arse then came to his front, where they stilled, momentarily, just over the waistband of his swimming trunks. Then, Draco pressed in.
"Oh," said Harry, whose thoughts immediately began to spin. "I can…I can do another?"
"Are you sure?" Draco pulled back to look at him, all earnest and caring, his ridiculous skin betraying his excitement by allowing patches of rosy pink to blossom on his cheeks.
Harry kissed his cheek, then nuzzled the warm skin of Draco's neck indulgently. "Yes. I'm sure."
As Draco ordered him another drink – deep amber liquid amidst crushed ice, a bright cherry floating on top, no alcohol – Harry assessed his situation. He hadn't used the bathroom before grabbing the portkey that had whipped them here; the last time he'd relieved himself had been right after waking up. For breakfast, the manor, as always, had served a never-ending supply of Earl Grey and peach blossom tea as well as a glass of freshly-pressed apple-juice. Then, the brunch-time cocktail, now to be followed by another tall, full-bellied glass. They hadn't been at the spa for long, an hour at the most, and Harry's bladder felt far from empty, though it wasn't bothering him. Yet. Taking the first sip of his new drink through a polka-dotted straw, Harry imagined he could feel himself filling now, steadily, ruthlessly.
Draco gave him a look of flushed approval.
"Let me know if you don't want it, at any point. You remember the safe word?" said Draco and Harry nodded, and then they were on.
Harry sipped his drink, floating chest-deep in the water, and revelled in the filthy excitement sparking low in his chest. In the short seven months since he and Draco had started to experiment with their desires, he hadn't had to use their safe word once. The closest he'd gotten had been a few months back, when Draco had kept him in a cockcage for so long, Harry had felt on the brink of losing his mind.
"Tell me what you're thinking about," Draco had ordered one night, when his magic, laced into the relentless steel of the cockcage, had alerted him of Harry's cock once again trying and failing to rise. Harry, who hadn't been able to think about anything at all for days, only a deep, frantic need, had almost caved right there.
Cockcages had been a 3 – Yes! – on the Kink Negotiation Checklist Draco had handed him two years into their relationship. Harry had even squished an extra three exclamation points into the box, to fully convey his enthusiasm. "Maybe not quite so long next time," Harry had said, sheepishly, in their Draco-mandated discussion after Harry's first full month in the cage.
By now, they had explored almost all of Harry's enthusiastic Yeses. Cross-dressing. Collars and leashes. Pet names. Suspension. Playing with another Dom. Choking. Cock worship. Sensation play, ice, wax, electricity.
Draco was far less generous with his own Yeses, only delving into them sporadically. Watersports had been one of them. Having grown up sheltered in a twisted, fucked-up sort of way, Harry hadn't known what it meant, leaving his own box empty and asking a flustered Draco for an explanation. "It's mostly the holding I'm interested in," Draco had admitted, "and, umm, perhaps…relieving – relieving on each other," bright red with shame, and Harry had settled on a 2 – willing to try.
They never had.
"Do whatever you want with me," Harry told Draco in a sprawling pool of saltwater, a dome of shimmering light and warmth protecting them from the hazy blanket of rain above, and Draco smiled, slow and dangerous.
***
Harry noticed the first needy twinge of his bladder while he was under a waterfall, curiously watching a couple in a nearby whirlpool. The waterfall was forceful, hammering against his shoulder blades, turning him hot and languid. The couple was openly fucking, with little regard to their surroundings. Harry would forever be in awe of the strange and magnificent places Draco had access to, not simply by his wealth, but by connections Harry had never bothered to make himself.
Pressing his thighs closely together and cataloguing the sensation, Harry let the waterfalls massage the back of his neck, then the top of his head, before he turned, joining Draco under a second waterfall beside him.
"I'm feeling it." Harry pushed himself against the long, wet line of Draco's body, then wrapped his legs around Draco's middle and let himself be carried a few steps, where the waterfalls were nothing but a scattered spray against his side. Draco kissed him, hot and open mouthed, all the while holding onto his weightless body. Pushed against the hard planes of Draco's stomach, Harry's bladder gave another twinge of protest. He shuddered in anticipation.
"What will I do with you?" Draco's words were hushed, barely audible over the rush of the water, and his eyes were dark. "I could book you a massage. Would you like that, pet? Lying on your stomach, with someone's brutish hands on you, pressing in?" Bringing a hand to Harry's bladder he pushed, and Harry groaned against his lips. "The longest massages they offer are forty-five minutes, but I'm certain they'll make an exception, for the right price. How long do you think you could last? An hour? Two? I'm sure they'd let me watch."
He paused, and Harry, slowly rutting against him and luxuriating in Draco's filthy voice against the side of his face, realised he was expected to answer. "Whatever you wish, Sir," he said, and couldn't help but smile at the tremor in Draco's hands, which often came when he realised just how much control he was allowed to exert over Harry. "I'm confident I could last for the hour, but it wouldn't be comfortable."
"I suppose it wouldn't be," said Draco, smirking, then swam a few paces away. "Let's swim. Try to keep up with me, will you?" And off he went.
Harry hesitated for a moment, suddenly hotly aware of the thousands of gallons of water surrounding him and brushing against his chest, the small but relentless ebb and flow of it. Then, with only the most negligible of winces, he followed.
Draco wasn't a particularly fast or ambitious swimmer – he preferred to float, ideally with an assortment of fancy snacks hovering by his side and an underwater string quartet for ambience. Under normal circumstances, keeping up with him wouldn't provide a challenge for Harry, who wasn't much of a swimmer himself. Today, catching up with Draco seemed almost impossible. Each kick of Harry's feet, each spreading of his legs was a risk. Forcing his legs apart again and again quickly became borderline painful, and the one time he faltered and pushed between his legs with a helping hand he only fell further behind. Merlin. He could feel the many drinks he'd had just sitting there, clamouring to get out.
Heavy with the weight of far too much liquid and boneless with nerves, Harry was rendered utterly breathless within minutes. Luckily, Draco's patience for swimming was limited. Soon enough he stilled, letting his limbs turn idle, and eying Harry like a shark. Harry kept up the pace until he was finally beside him, then let his feet touch the ground and waited, panting.
Eyes falling closed, he didn't notice Draco swimming up behind him. Suddenly, there were arms around his middle, hugging him closely, cruelly.
"Oh god," Harry gasped and knotted his legs together under the glistening surface.
"Oh god," Draco echoed with a quiet laugh and held on tighter.
For a long moment Harry couldn't think of anything but how good it would feel. To let go, to relax, to feel the warmth spreading around him, engulfing the both of them. To let himself melt back into Draco's arms and know he'd done his very best.
But he hadn't done his best. He could wait. He would wait.
"Full?" Draco asked and sounded so thrilled, Harry couldn't help but smile.
"Full," he confirmed.
Draco hummed approvingly, then kissed at his jaw, letting his arms go slack around him, and the furious need to piss faded into the background, if only a little.
"Let's go take a break, shall we?" Draco decided and stirred him towards a floating ladder.
The moment Harry set foot on land he groaned, pushing his thighs together and rubbing his palms uselessly against the fabric of his swimming trunks. Gravity wasn't on his side. His bladder was a heavy presence in his middle, a low pulse, a sharp heat.
"You'll wait," Draco said, when Harry cast a furtive glance towards the bathrooms, a set of damp doors only steps away. Taking Harry's hand securely in his, he led him over a path of wooden planks towards an expansive indoor beach, fine white sand pleasantly cool under Harry's naked feet. Palm trees rose from the sand, tall and regal and still, a counterpoint to the palms bending in the winds outside. Between the trees, hammocks were suspended a few feet in the air. Dressed in the blue and golden colours of the pool, waitstaff walked up and down the beach.
"Can you take any more?" Draco asked, picking up a drinks menu on a low table next to one of the hammocks.
The thought of yet another drink made Harry want to grab between his legs and give himself a squeeze. "Uh." He shifted from one foot to the other and back, trying to assess his need. "If you'd like this to last for a while it might not be a good idea."
Draco nodded, kissed Harry's hair and motioned for him to lie down in one of the hammocks. He ordered a drink – just an iced tea, just for himself – then joined Harry on the thick cotton of the hammock. As soon as the weight of Draco's body was beside him, Harry curled against his side, one leg up over one of Draco's, his hand resting lightly on the horrible scars he'd put on Draco's chest.
There was something about the pressure in his middle that made him want to rut against Draco's thigh – it would help him hold, perhaps, would distract from the weight of his bladder.
For a while, Draco played it cool. He liked it: liked to pretend nothing was amiss, liked to pretend Harry wasn't burning up beside him, in skimpy lace or tied to the ceiling or with a vibrating plug shoved far up his arse, waiting for Draco's next move. As keeping still became progressively more impossible, Draco chatted idly about an obscure aquatic plant Muggle scientists had discovered in the shadowed ridges of the Great Barrier Reef, which may or may not prove invaluable in curing vanishing sickness, all the while sipping his iced tea and watching Harry out of the corner of his eyes. With fingers cold from his glass, Draco traced slow circles on the skin of Harry's back. Under the glass dome, the air was warm and sticky. Pressed against the heat of Draco's body, Harry quickly began to overheat, sweat prickling at the back of his neck.
"You know," said Draco, his voice far warmer, far more private than moments ago, "I'm really starting to feel it too."
Harry eyed his flat stomach, imagining he could see a slight swell there. Draco had used the bathroom before taking the portkey. Even then, he'd had quite a few drinks since, and was noisily sucking on the dregs of ice tea now as though to illustrate that point. Harry knew better than to settle a palm against Draco's bladder and push. Instead, he allowed himself to give in, just for a moment, and rub his cock against Draco's thigh with a low groan.
"Can I hold myself?" he asked, hopeful. He certainly could use the help of his hand. His bladder was a dull ache in his middle, snagging forcefully at his attention.
"Not yet." Sticking long fingers into his glass, Draco fished out an ice cube, then, with a glint in his eyes, set it on Harry's spine.
"Mmmm," Harry sighed and let his eyes flutter closed.
The world fell away under Draco's careful attention. Nothing but the sharp sting of the ice looping slowly over his back, a tender caress through his damp hair, the pressure of the liquid inside him, and, low and calm, a steady string of fantasies murmured against his temple.
"We could go to one of the whirlpools," Draco said, "and you could sit in my lap with the water bubbling around you until you break, until you can't wait another second and slowly piss yourself, all over my lap. There's spells woven into the water, were you able to detect them? They'll do away with any…unwanted liquids in a heartbeat. Or you could sit on my cock, keep it nice and warm right there in the pool, until you explode. Do you think you could hold on with my cock inside you? You noticed the couple fucking in the whirlpool earlier, didn't you, pet? No one would bat an eye if I fucked you right there, anywhere. Maybe they'd come watch, we could have an audience. Wouldn't you like that, darling, I know you would."
Harry's lust was hazy, his body warm and drowsy, almost dreamy, right until it wasn't.
"Fuck," he whispered, and almost – almost – forgot himself and wrapped a hand around his cock. "It's getting…it's getting bad." Helpless, he moved his leg on Draco, rutted against him.
"Mm," said Draco, low and satisfied.
"I'm going to piss myself," Harry realised with sudden sharp clarity. "You're going to make me piss myself."
Draco kissed the top of his head. "Yes. But not yet."
It was after another deceptively calm lecture on the fickle nature of vanishing disease, as well as one on the dangers of Muggle sunscreen to coral reefs that Harry couldn't help himself and asked again, "Can I please hold myself, Sir? I'm…I'm only asking so that I can…hold on longer for you, so I can please you."
"You may," Draco allowed generously and Harry's fingers had only just met the outline of his cock when Draco amended, "once we're in the sauna."
***
The sauna was small and circular, woodclad, glowing with low, golden light. The air was hot and impenetrable, sharp with the scent of eucalyptus and juniper. In the middle of the room, damp stones lay piled onto a stove, flames licking at glass walls, and the only window in the room was enchanted, looking out over a coursing river at night. Harry didn't notice any of these things when they first stepped into the heat: a couple was having sex right below the window, two women, one with her face buried between her partner's legs. She gave them a cursory glance as they walked in, and, with a cocky smile, continued.
At least, Harry thought, him clutching his dick wouldn't cause much of a stir under these circumstances. He sighed in relief when he finally wrapped his fingers around himself. Shifting from one leg to the other and squeezing tightly, he revelled in the short, blissful relief it provided.
Unfazed by the women, Draco led him to the middle bench right opposite the window. Stretching his long pale legs over the hot wood, Draco assumed an elegant sprawl, as though expecting a relaxing experience. Harry settled in next to him with his legs firmly crossed, one hand buried between them. The woman moaned, loud and unabashed and tore at her partner's hair, and behind them, the river rushed over glimmering stones, moonlight glinting in cresting waves.
Public sex. Another enthusiastic Yes on both of their lists and a pleasure they'd indulged in only a handful of times. Harry was about to force his body into at least the facsimile of relaxation, rest his head in Draco's lap and watch the women, when Draco said, "Make me come."
Harry blinked up at him. Pale as it was, Draco's skin was already flushing with the heat of the sauna, and his eyelids were heavy, his sweet mouth wet and open.
"Yes," Harry whispered, lowering himself to his knees in front of him. The motion was a stab to his bladder. He hissed, leaning his forehead heavily against Draco's thigh for a moment, trying to collect himself. "Do you want my mouth, Sir?"
Draco nodded, letting his head drop against the wood-clad wall.
A tug against the waistband of Draco's swimsuit and his cock sprang free, half-hard and pink. Harry's mouth watered, an automatic response. He prided himself in how good he was at sucking Draco off, at reducing him to shivers and swears, shattering through the stubborn walls of his control.
Licking at the tip, Harry moaned at the familiar taste, at the weight of his lover's cock on his tongue, then swallowed him down.
"I love you," Draco sighed quietly, always overflowing with emotion when watching himself disappear in Harry's mouth, "I love you, pet, you're so good, so beautiful, yes, just like that, you take me so well."
Harry licked, teased, swallowed, pumped the length with a fist and took Draco in deep enough to gag himself – another 3 on both their lists. His eyes were watering and his bladder screaming when he let Draco fall from his lips for a moment, desperate to catch his breath. The air was hot, so hot. His skin was slick with sweat, his hair wet under the tight grip of Draco's fingers. He was gulping a thick breath of eucalyptus air when it happened: without enough of Harry's conscious attention, his bladder contracted. A pulse of piss travelled down the length of his cock and threatened to spill into his swimsuit. Taking his hand off Draco and wrapping his fingers around himself, Harry squeezed, stopping the flow right at the tip.
"Having trouble?" Draco's eyes were dark, glittering. His erection jumped against Harry's lips.
"I," Harry panted, sucking in another few lungfuls of too-hot air, feeling dazed and lovely and so very needy, "yes. I'm…it's…Merlin, I need to piss."
"Tell me how much," Draco ordered. Catching Harry's left hand from where it was gripping Draco's waist, he brought it to his cock, sighing in content when Harry picked up stroking him. His motion with his left hand was slightly awkward, but his right was desperately needed on himself.
"I…" Harry allowed himself an uncertain glance at the women. They'd turned over now, one teasing the other's arse with her tongue. It was fine, Harry told himself, if they were rimming each other right there, surely he could debase himself in front of them, but before he'd tried to speak again, Draco lifted a hand. His Muffliato was subtle, a light shimmer in the impenetrable air, and Harry looked at him gratefully.
"Thank you," he sighed, then spoke for only Draco to hear, "It's so bad. I'm so full, Draco, if I were at home I would have gone ages ago." He tongued at the head, kept up the steady rhythm of his hand, all the while kneading his own piss-heavy cock. "The last time I had to piss this badly was at Gin and Pansy's wedding. Remember? I almost – I almost didn't make it."
"Tell me," said Draco and Harry did, even though Draco knew, he'd been there.
"I had so much punch that day," Harry said, then hissed when, even against the tight pressure of his fingers, the first spurt of piss soaked into his trunks. "I just leaked," he let Draco know and Draco moaned, a burst of precome pearling against Harry's fingers. "I had so much punch at the wedding and I kept getting distracted, so much to do, and the toilets were right there, so I was in no hurry, I thought – I thought I could go at any point, so I kept putting it off, and then when I really couldn't wait any longer and was about to go, you approached me."
Harry swallowed Draco down once more, letting him hit against the back of his throat and revelling in the helpless tears leaking from his eyes before relying on his hand again. "You sat down next to me and we talked, and I'd been trying to talk to you for so long, so long, for years I'd wanted you and finally…and I almost forgot how desperate I was, I couldn't think of anything but you."
Draco pressed his fingers sharply into Harry's skull, tugging at his hair, moaning in pleasure. "When you asked me to dance, I honestly thought I could try. Try to hide that I was about to explode, but then it happened, I leaked, and I had to tell you to wait, I had to go to the bathroom first, and you came with me and there was a queue…Merlin, there was a queue."
"How close was it?" Draco whispered, though he must know – Harry, desperate to impress Draco and so painfully in love with him, hadn't been able to stop himself from dancing on the spot then, a not so furtive grip on his cock through the pocket of his lavish robes.
"So close," Harry gasped, "I almost didn't get my dick out in time. Did you find it hot, then?"
Another pulse of precome, which Harry licked off expertly. "Yes, Harry, darling, it was so hot then," Draco groaned. "How much longer until you piss yourself, you think?"
Harry tried to think. He let go of himself for a moment and felt the immediate rush of piss down his length. "Minutes," he guessed, slightly dizzy with the thought and absolutely covered in sweat, "I'm so full, Sir, please, could I…" But there was nothing he could do. He would piss himself, because he was Draco's, and Draco desired it. "So, so full," Harry whispered once more and then Draco came, hot spurts right across Harry's damp face.
As always, Draco insisted on cleaning him off. Not with a spell, which would have been quick and succinct, but with a soft cloth he conjured, then drenched in cool water. He made Harry lie on his back and cleaned his face with careful, gentle strokes. Harry bit his lip, blinking up at Draco's lovely face through the chaos in his body, which was desperately trying to wet itself against his wishes.
"Beautiful," said Draco. He cleaned the cloth, then traced it slowly, torturously, over Harry's arms and legs, soaking up the sweat and leaving a cool breath in its wake. Finally, he brought it to the hard swell of Harry's bladder. He left it there, just a slight, cool weight, a threat, then brought teasing fingers to Harry's cock. It was mostly soft, too occupied with Harry's need for relief to get properly hard. "Could you come, pet?" Draco asked idly, tracing his outlines against his swimming trunks. "If I told you to, could you come?"
"I – " said Harry, biting at his own knuckles with a sudden wave of desperation. He gasped, waiting for it to pass. "I'd try my best, Sir. I'm not sure I could."
"Mm." Draco smiled dangerously, then bent over Harry's body to claim his mouth, kissing him slow and deep. "I'd love to make you try. I'd let you piss only once you've come. If you can't come, you can't piss, I won't allow it." Nuzzling along Harry's neck, he seemed to consider the idea. "Or," he said, and sounded so pleased Harry knew he was in deep trouble, "we could go cool off in one of the dipping pools."
***
The freezing water was a shock to his system. Only ankle-deep in the small, square pool, Harry gasped, bending over and clenching for all he was worth. A shudder ran through his body, gooseflesh raising the hair on his arms, and another spurt burst warm against his thigh.
"Oh," Draco said idly, shivering right beside him and stepping deeper into the water. "This is torture."
Harry laughed. He could see it now: Draco's own bladder, slightly swollen. Draco was denying himself relief. He'd explained, back when they'd presented their lists to each other, that he liked to hold, sometimes, just for himself. How it set him on edge, sharpened the sensations of touch, made him needy and horny, how he liked to play with his control over his own body.
Curious, Harry watched him step into the ice water, itching with questions, but Draco was his master, and Harry would wait and see.
Biting his lip and calling upon all the mental strength he could muster, he submerged himself slowly in the pool. The cold was stabbing needles, cruel after the heat of the sauna. Beside him, Draco gasped, then pulled in a deep breath and dove to the other side of the pool.
Frigid water lapping at his chest, Harry clamped himself shut and sucked in short, shallow breaths. Around them, set into snowy white tile shiny with polishing charms, various dipping pools glistened with water, some boasting with temperatures even colder than the one Draco had subjected him to, some emitting hot curls of steam. Their particular scents and merits were advertised by glimmering silver script floating above their surfaces. Flitterbloom and vervain, for relieving deep muscle ache, they promised, and bitter root and fire seed oil, lightly hallucinogenic.
Harry tried to get lost in the bath Draco had chosen for him, icy and scented with starthistle, training his eyes on the steady waft of steam dissipating into cool, clean air from the pools around him, but found his attention thoroughly wrecked. It was hard to think past the overwhelming need for relief.
From the other end of the small pool, Draco was watching him. There was heat in his eyes, anticipation, but also uncertainty. Harry knew the expression well: Draco didn't know what to do next. Likely, he had dreamed up several dozens of scenarios, all the sweet torture Harry would submit to today, and now didn't know where to go, how far to push. Harry loved him for it. Loved that Draco was new to this, too, exploring it all with him. Draco's insecurities often shone through his cool and collected facade, his disbelief that he was trusted with someone else's – with Harry's – body. That Harry would let Draco reduce him to tears and put him back together, over and over, even after everything.
Draco was terrified of misstepping. Harry didn't envy him for his dominant role, all the planning, the control. In a way, Harry thought, submitting his body to someone he trusted so deeply was far easier than taking responsibility not just for someone's pleasure, but their safety.
Submitting certainly didn't feel easy right in this moment. His body screaming at him in high-pitched, frozen desperation, Harry waded over to where Draco floated in the water, strands of hair dripping off his high forehead. He offered his body, a hesitant reaching out, and Draco gripped him gladly, wrapping himself all around him, lips to his temples, a blissful transfer of body heat.
"Whatever it is you'd like to do to me, you can," Harry whispered, stroking back Draco's hair and holding his sweet, turbulent eyes. "You can. But if you'd like to run it by me first to help you feel better about it, that's good too. Just…if you could…do it quickly. Unless this is where I'm supposed to go, I'm – I'm doing all I can but I don't know how long I can hold out, it's so cold, love, and I'm so desperate, I'm not…"
Draco bit his lip, a brief wince, then kissed Harry's cheeks. One hand around Harry's waist, the other snuck between his legs. Harry watched Draco's eyes go darker, heavier, as he traced the outline of Harry's cock and took a few steadying breaths.
"I was so certain I'd chicken out today that I didn't decide on a proper cause of action," Draco admitted with a sigh.
"What is it you'd most like to do? You know I'd do just about anything for you." Harry shivered. As much as he loved Draco in control, he loved seeing him grapple with it, his uncertainties and worries.
Draco looked at him for another long moment, caught in some internal battle, then shrugged off his nerves like an unwanted cloak. A slow smirk rearranged his features into calm, dangerous confidence.
"Off to the showers," Draco decided, already moving towards the ladder. "Don't even think about losing a single drop before we get there."
***
Harry made it to the showers with not a shred of dignity left in place. He couldn't stand up straight. Couldn't pull in a breath deep enough to calm his shivering limbs. Couldn't stop himself from fisting his dick, couldn't help the low whine that escaped him when he looked up and saw rain, rushing water, wetness wherever he looked.
Walking imperiously in front of him, turned backwards so he didn't miss a moment of Harry's struggle, Draco had him covered: a dense Notice-Me-Not draped over Harry's shoulders; onlookers giving him only the barest of glances before their eyes pulled elsewhere.
There was little Harry noticed beside his own desperation and the cruel, relentless drip of water all around him. Still, Draco's own fullness was noticeable. He hid it well: just a flinch, a twitch of a muscle in his jaw, of his hand where it rested unsteadily on his own thigh, close but not close enough.
Waddling behind him, Harry let himself be led to the showers. They were nothing like the showers he'd used in public pools; no grimy tile and forgotten Tesco shampoo, no middle-aged men shaving their pits under a spluttering, lukewarm spray.
As anything Draco enjoyed, the showers were lavish, almost outrageous in their luxury. The walls were of shimmering rock, emitting a pleasant warmth and a scent Harry couldn't place, but made him feel almost peaceful, even as his body was on fire. The space was several paces wide and mercifully private. Draco shut the gleaming wooden door with a shrug of his wrist, then turned to Harry.
"Kneel," he demanded and, as Harry slowly, ever so carefully followed his order, Draco raised a hand and cast. Suddenly, Harry was dry, so perfectly dry and beautifully warm.
On his knees, bent in half and so full he could cry, Harry lowered his forehead until it was almost touching the stone. There, Draco left him for a moment, Harry shivering with the effort of holding on, both hands on the floor when they were needed desperately elsewhere.
"Sit up. Look at me."
When Harry looked up, Draco was tense and gorgeous, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of his swimming trunks. In a smooth, elegant motion Harry wouldn't ever be able to replicate, Draco was naked, cock jutting out proudly, pointing right at Harry's newly-dry face.
Harry understood what was happening only seconds before it did, shivering with the sudden desire for it, with a strange, heady longing he hadn't anticipated, and then Draco's warm piss hit his forehead.
"Nnnnghh," Harry moaned, dazed and incoherent and wildly turned on as piss ran down his cheeks, dripped over his chin and onto his chest, warm beads collecting in the corners of his mouth. He didn't know where to look. Draco's face, hungry, mouth hanging open and panting hard, his cock, emitting a steady stream of piss, his own chest, dripping with it.
"Yes," Harry breathed, though he hadn't been asked to speak, "yes, please, fuck yes," and tasted warm urine on his lips.
It took a long time for Draco's stream to subside. If Draco had still been capable of walking upright, of getting off, while holding all that, Harry could only imagine the veritable ocean he himself was trying to contain.
"Can you stand?" Draco's next words were far more careful, a question instead of a command. That didn't lessen Harry's desire to please him. Still, Harry wasn't certain he could. He felt dazed, overly hot and absolutely, furiously aching with need.
"Help me?" Harry reached out a hand, feeling half pathetic, half gloriously turned on by his helplessness, and Draco stepped towards him, helping him up slowly and carefully.
"Pet," Draco said, pulling him close and kissing his cheeks, despite the piss, "thank you so much, that was…I've always wanted to…Merlin, you must be absolutely bursting, aren't you pet?"
"Yes," Harry whispered, looking down and feeling slightly dizzy with the visible hard swell of his bladder. He couldn't help himself, crossing one leg tightly over the other in an obvious cry for help.
"I'd like to give you three opti ons, darling. Listen now and choose one. Option one: You get to go right here, right now. You've done beautifully, you've done more than enough. Option two: I'll have you right here, and you try and wait until I've come inside you, and only then do you get to release. Option three: I take you to one of the whirlpools and you sit in my lap and relieve yourself there. I wouldn't ask you to hold on any longer once we're there, I promise."
Over the aching weight of his bladder, Harry tried to consider his options. Attempting to think was no small feat. He felt reduced to a single need, a sharp and desperate thing swallowing him whole.
"Two."
Harry had barely spoken when he found his chest pressed against the warm stone wall. Draco seemed to understand he needed to move quickly if Harry was to stand even the slightest chance of fulfilling his wishes. Leaning his cheek against stone and breathing as deeply as he could allow himself, Harry moaned mindlessly when Draco pushed down his swimming trunks and wrapped a blissful fist over his mostly soft dick.
Usually, Draco enjoyed opening Harry slowly, indulgently, the long teasing and waiting to be filled sweet torture in itself, but now wasn't the moment for such luxuries. A small string of charms tingled through Harry's body, and suddenly he was ready, stretched, clean, needy.
"You don't have to come," Draco allowed, "I might let you come after, if you manage to hold on until I'm done."
Harry sighed, relieved. He didn't think he could come right now, not even in his utter desperation to please, and was pathetically glad he wasn't expected to.
Draco's cock at his entrance was almost Harry's end. Caught between the desire to be pressed between the warm wall and the hard line of Draco's body and knowing he couldn't afford the extra pressure of the wall against his bladder, Harry shuddered back against Draco, handing over the responsibility of keeping his body upright. Draco accepted with practised ease. One arm held onto Harry's chest, a firm, calming pressure close to his windpipe, the other went lower, dangerously close to his bursting middle.
"Nnnnn," Harry whined when Draco finally entered him, and the pressure inside his body reached dizzying heights.
"Can you hold on?" Draco murmured, lips warm against Harry's neck, "Can you hold on for me, pet?"
"Yes," Harry gasped, though he couldn't, he couldn't, and craned back his neck for Draco to kiss and lick and bite.
Tongue against Harry's skin, Draco made a strangled sound, a sob, and started fucking him in earnest. Harry braced himself with one forearm against the wall and one arm back against Draco's thigh. He was on fire, burning up, his body aching, panting, bursting.
"Tell me," Draco ordered.
"Fuck," was all Harry managed for a while, drowning in his need, in the obscene, rhythmic slap of Draco against his arse. "I need," Harry gasped, "I need it so bad, I need to piss myself so badly, I won't be able to stop it, I can't control it, Draco, Sir, I can't, I'm so full, I'm beyond desperate, I loved it when you pissed on me, oh Merlin, please do that again, I can feel it all over me still, I feel so – " Harry shuddered and it happened, a long spurt of piss escaped him, spluttering hard against the calm expanse of the wall.
He couldn't cut off the stream. The best he could do was to stall it, to reduce it to a slow, aching dribble. His release ran down his thigh in a warm trickle, down the length of his shin, reluctantly pooling under his toes before trailing towards the drain.
"I'm still holding," Harry swore, though whether he meant to assure Draco or himself he couldn't say.
"Baby," Draco murmured, fucking him hard and slow, and then his palms came to rest on Harry's middle. "You're so good," he said and licked a hot stripe down Harry's neck before pushing in. The pressure of his hands was gentle, wouldn't have been pressure at all were Harry not bursting at the seams. As it was, the first press of Draco's fingers made him overflow.
His body curled inwards, turning heavy and useless, and he would have fallen to his knees had Draco not been holding onto him so firmly. As his body let go of hours upon hours of liquids entirely without his consent, the pressure heightened at first, mounting to a sharp boiling point, and then there was nothing but the river of piss bursting from his dick and the gasps and tremors of Draco's climax behind him.
Harry pissed and pissed. In the throes of his pleasure, Draco couldn't hold him up sufficiently, and he went to his knees after all, forehead falling against the glistening wall. At once, Draco curled up behind him, holding him against his chest. One warm hand smoothed Harry's hair from his overheated forehead, the other found his stream, letting it hit against long, pale fingers.
"Was I good?" Harry asked, when his stream had long subsided and his body had started, finally, too unwind. He felt loose and light and strangely satiated. Sticky, too.
"Merlin." The back of his hand to Harry's check, Draco turned his head until he could kiss him, still breathless and a little unsteady. "You were brilliant, darling, you were perfect. My god. My god." His cock had slipped out of Harry. Come was running down the back of his thigh in the small, private space that wasn't pressed neatly against Draco.
"Can I come now?" Harry asked, cock still soft but hot and beating with a soft pulse.
"No," said Draco simply, and smiled angelically against his lips.
***
Outside, the rain had turned into a torrent, cascading off the glass sphere, smudging the view of the palm trees and the waterfall, the low, ashen clouds. Harry was warm in the cradle of Draco's arms. Dark, foaming water was bubbling all around them, gurgling from jets along the side of the whirlpool.
Draco ushered over a bath attendant and Harry closed his eyes and revelled in the weightlessness of his body in the foam as Draco browsed a thick menu, picking out shampoos and lotions and creams.
"Next time," Harry said, groaning in bliss as Draco carefully massaged a sweet scent into the roots of his hair, "next time I'd like it if you made me hide it. To pretend like nothing's wrong at all."
"Next time," Draco sighed happily.
Draco washed his arms for him, his shoulders, each of his fingers, the space between his toes. Harry was floating, wet and warm and desperately cherished.
At the first crack of thunder, he startled, blinking open his eyes only to be met by a Draco who looked terribly indignant. Draco frowned up at the ceiling, past the soft Lumos spheres and the golden light, the dense, warm sweetness of the baths and into tumultuous clouds.
"Let me guess," Harry said, running his hands over Draco's unimpressed cheeks, "you're going to write a bad review for this place."
"I might." Draco made a face when Harry laughed at him. "You deserve only sunshine and, I don't know, happiness and rainbows and chocolate crups . Not this unseemly mess." He gestured towards the thunder in agitation. "I only want what's best for you. Sue me."
"The moon on a string," Harry teased and Draco gave his forehead one last, lingering kiss before smirking and pushing his head into the bubbles.