Don't judge me

maybe...

Can he make it? is only downhill, should not be so hard, and he's gone longer in worse shape, probably.

(he's thinking of one incident from his childhood, when he couldn't get out of practice, and that was much harder... and didn't end well.

but just a few years ago, after Boston won the cup, and the team spent nearly a week drunk and being plied with free food at every bar or restaurant they visited, Ilya had then had to get on a goddamn plane from Boston to Las Vegas, fucking direct, and he'd nearly died when he got the shits partway through the flight, and had to balance real risk of shitting himself on a long flight in public, with how much he was annoying and inconveniencing every one around him, as he repeatedly destroyed that bathroom.

and that had been four hours like that!

... well, four hours in which he could switch between shitting, and sitting very still, but!)

Ilya frowns, but keeps moving, only pausing occasionally when the tightness and pressure gets worse for a moment, before continuing.

After all, he's only Going to need to shit Soon, he doesn't Have To, YET.

They are 20 minutes from the cottage, by Shane's estimate, when Ilya has to stop, or shit his pants

he freezes in the middle of the path, glutes clenching, and holds very still, as the Something his guts have been brewing finally drops down, and fully fills his rectum. The pressure spikes.

Fuck.

He doesnt WANT to shit in the woods! It will be uncomfortable and embarrassing and he Really doesn't want to do that in front of Shane. They're in a more secure place than they were, but ilya still thinks his best bet to keep this relationship is to be as sexy as possible, which this Will Not Be.

The cramp eases, and though Ilya feels absolutely filled to the brim, fuck he has to piss again too somehow, he starts moving again. Cautiously placing one foot. And then the other.

"really, we can stop if-"

"I am. Fine " ilya insists. But fucks it up by needing to breathe in the middle.

"you got pale. Ilya. I can tell you aren't fine"

Ilya waves him off, tries to speed up. And feels the tip of his load start to breach-

He freezes again , clenches it back, feels himself break out in a sweat, even as he succeeds and it retreats. he feels full and awkward, like he can't walk right, like the mass of whatever horrible thing is happening in his guts is somehow widening his hips, pushing him apart into a new, careful gait.

"... uh, it is going to take longer than that if you can't, uh-"

Ilya stiffens.

"I can."

he clenches harder, forces himself to walk normal, or close to it.

fuck, there's so much pressure, it is fucking uncomfortable but Ilya won't, he's not going to...

Shane slows his pace, and Ilya doesn't make eye contact, focused on breathing, and moving, and keeping his core absolutely rigid, no room for anything to move around. he puts one foot in front of the other, and he sweats and he grits his teeth and rides out the waves.

he doesn't realize he made a noise, until shane makes a small one back, and he cuts a little quick glance at shane to find him-

staring.

fuck. fuck fuck.

ilya doesn't do humiliation, he's never embarrassed, he never cares enough about what other people think to be embarrassed. he fights the urge to lash out, to say something mean so Shane will be embarrassed instead, will look away, and then he stumbles slightly, looks down in a panic, feels himself lose it a little, has to stop to clench up again and-

-and catches sight of shane's slutty little hiking shorts.

Shane is hard.

the moment shifts. it feels like an echo of eight years before, when ilya masters himself, and looks back up at Shane, who's still staring, mouth open a little.

Ilya catches his eyes, flicks his own down to shane's groin and up again, and much as he once did, shane flushes and turns away so quick, but yeah, Ilya's not wrong.

this is turning shane on.

Ilya feels a little bit like he's dreaming, as he says "What, you want to pretend this did not happen?"

"... I don't know what you are talking about."

another wave rolls through ilya, and he feels himself leak a little, shove a hand in his pocket to grab himself, maybe no room for his bladder with everything else so full.

"I think you do. I think you- hah-" Ilya twists his hips uncomfortably, fights to hold on, "I think-" if shane is is into this, well, that's something else. Trust Shane to always surprise him (by being truly endlessly horny and kinky). Fuck, ilya loves him.

now, ilya's never actually... done anything in this area really, though he's sort of aware that some people do, at least, he's seen stuff pop up now and then on porn sites and stuff... but depending on what exactly is hot for Shane here, Ilya is almost always down to try New Stuff once or twice, before writing it off...

fuck fuck fuck it's gonna have to be a quick conversation though. fuck he would prefer to have a minute to discuss, but... well...

"you know you like this? What do you like about this?"

"Ilya-" Shane is definitely blushing, and won't look at him

"No no, you like this! You like something, and I do not think it is all the trees that have you filling up your small shorts this way."

"Filling out."

there. His beautiful pedantic shane.

"no, you fill them up, I can see, no room left when you are hot for me."

Shane looks at him, glares, opens his mouth clearly to argue- and Ilya sees him get caught, looking at Ilya, at Ilya's groin.

Ilya tries very hard not to be embaressed about how rigid he is holding his legs, or the shiver that runs through him as all the hairs on his body stand up in goose skin (as his body tries to make him do something he refuses to do)... Ilya treis not to be embaressed about the fact that his hand is damp, in his pocket, where he's holding himself again, because everytime he cleanches hard enough to keep it in, a little pee comes out and shane can probably see this from outside Ilya's shorts-

Shane's mouth is slightly open, and another cramp rolls through Ilya, pressure pressure and Ilya grits his teeth, and doesn't give in and his hand gets a little wetter, and shane licks his bottom lip, sucks it in a little, moistens it, before his eyes flick back up to Ilya's caught.

"You think I would have problem with you liking a new thing?"

Shane's eyes flick away.

"... 's gross."

"My tongue, your asshole. we have done this. many times."

Shane scowls.

"Yeah, After I wash absolutely everything."

Ilya shakes his head.

"only because you only let me do this when we are in your house, mr real estate. I would do this after a game in boston, too. If-"

and ilya had to cut off, and close his eye, and be very still, as his body tried so hard to make him push, and he wouldn't he wouldn't do that, couldn't- he feels himself open, involuntarily, and he doesn't know what noise he's making, wants to hold his ass with his other hand, like maybe he can keep it in that way, but he doesn't wanna bend at all and he knows he's making noise, he's breathing short and shrap and it's a good thing he gave up hiding this, because he wouldn't be able to hide this, shane would have known-

the cramp eases, and Ilya is just barely able to clench down and close up, without leaving anything in his underwear.

well, except for piss, because he can feel a tiny trickle down his leg and oh god he hopes shane is really into this because-

Shane has a wet spot too.

Shane is clearly so so hard in his little shorts, so hard he has a wet spot (obviously smaller than Ilya's but still).

Ilya goes for cool an in control again, ignoring what just happened.

"So, what you like? You want me to piss on you, or?"

Shane's eyes go wide.

"No! ... well. uh. maybe, but no. um."

Fuck fuck Ilya wants to revel in the moment but there's no time his body doesn't have space for everything it tries to contain-

"Say it quick, Shane, is- ah- is not much time I can..."

Shane squares his shoulders, and ilya feels almost more fond than urgent.

"... It's, uh, it's they way you. um. Struggle?"

Oh! Oh this Ilya understands.

"Yes?"

"Uh, that you, um, that you are trying really hard, but you can't help, um..." and shane gestures to Ilya's wet thigh.

"It is just that I must piss? or also that-" ah fuck he had been denying, but, surely it was obvious, so- "Hah, that I need to shit, too?"

Shane is so red, maybe the most red Ilya has ever seen him.

"... both."

Ilya smirks, but he can feel the next wave building, he doesn't know if- of course he can hold it, he's not a kid, but-

"What you want me to do with it?"

Shane blinks.

"What?"

Ilya tries again, with increasing urgency.

"What you want me to do? try to get back to cottage? Find bush? can I go, or you want me to wait...?"

Shane Stares, open mouthed.

"choose quick, Hollander, or choice will be gone-"

fuck fuck maybe already too late, the cramp builds, and there's just no space in ilya, and he can't- he can't-

"uh," shane says, "Uh, whatever you are, um, comfortable with-"

"Hollander, fuck, comfortable? What comfortable about- hngggg-"

Ilya can't speak, can't do anything but hold on, can barely breath, feels himself bend a little involuntarily, instinctively trying to relieve the pressure even as he desperately fights not to squeeze out what he doesn't want to squeeze out (but no he fucking wants to is desperate to, has never had to go this bad ever in his life at least when he wasn't sick), and he can't help it, the physics just don't work or something, it starts coming out, slowly, unavoidably, and no amount of panting or- it's poking out, it's coming out-

"Ilya, you're pissing-"

The wave ends, and ilya tries to pull it back in, clench up, but-

He looks at shane, knows his own eyes are too wide.

"I can't- hollander, shane, I-"

"you still have to go?"

did he? his shoe was wet, his leg, he must have peed while- while-

"it's out, shane, I can't-"

-

shane steps closer, worried, trying to ignore how goddamn hard he is, fuck, feels like a firm breeze is gonna do it for him, but Ilya isn't- he isn't smirking anymore, he looks distressed-

"I mean, what's a little piss?" Shane tries to reassure, not like ilya's never done that before, surely. plenty of guys get caught short in uniform in their sport, no big deal (except how fucking hot it was to watch the leg of Ilya's shorts darken, the stream come down, despite how hard ilya was clearly trying not to do it, how tense his arm was where he held himself). He had only pissed some moisture-wicking shorts. "You can still make it back to-"

"No, Shane, Is out, It.. .I..."

What- oh.

oh Fuck

oh oh what the fuck

"Shane, it won't go back. I can't- I can't- "

Oh what the shit that was so hot shane felt dizzy.

"Uh, okay, uh, look we'll just go over there? that bush by the- come on i'll help you, it's okay-"

Shane stepped close, beside and slightly behind ilya, didn't look down, put his hand on one shoulder and took his other arm, ready to support him, didn't look down-

Ilya tensed, started forward with his right foot and froze immediately with a noise-

Shane looked down.

oh shit oh fuck oh god it was- something was-

"Shane, it will come out, Shane I can't- it, more came out when I- ahhh!"

Ilya was telling the truth. even with an ass like his, shane could see the disturbance in the fabric where something and shane knew exactly what was tenting the fabric just a little, a tiny point between the massive globes of Ilya's ass. For it to be visible, fuck there had to be so much and for it to be there Ilya had to be.

"Is it still, um, in you? are you-"

Ilya nods, furiously.

"So much, i cannot- I am, ah , ah, holding it, ah, there. if I move, i think it will- I will shit myself, shane"

"... you kind of already have, ilya."

Ilya made a desperate, tortured little noise, not that different from the one he made the other day when he went bare with shane for the first time and almost came too soon, and the sound of ilya barely holding onto his oragsm was so hot to shane that Shane did come too quick, and Ilya followed right behind-

Oh god. Shane was gonna come in his shorts, right here, while his boyfriend was about to shit himself.

"What do... Do you want me to carry you?" Shane shifts back in front of him a little, trying to see his face-

Ilya is shaking his head, but he has a death grip on shane's arm, and his hand is wet, oh hell he grabbed shane with the hand he pissed on-

Ilya looks him in the eyes, and Shane has never seen Ilya look like this, eyes so wide and vulnerable and desperate, tears at the corners, face open and seeking and-

"Shane, I'm gonna, Shane I can't make it, I- It's going to- uhhhng-!"

And Clearly involuntarily ilya closes his eyes and his face goes red and he cries out as he bends forward and his head hits shane's shoulder and his knees come forward as he bends-

and Shane's vision goes white and his hearing rings so loud he almost can't hear Ilya oh fuck fuck fuck fuck-

When shane's orgasm ends, and he can pull his hips back from Ilyas thigh (his wet thigh oh fuck), Ilya is leaning into him, arms around him (like maybe he grabbed Shane for support and then left them there), and he's panting a little.

Shane's head is higher than Ilya's. He can see down ilya's back.

well.

"Uh." shane begins, intelligently.

"Don't talk. busy."

Shane pulls a little more of his brain back online.

"uh. busy doing what?"

Ilya sighs into Shane's shoulder.

"Busy pretending this did not just happen."

a moment.

"It sort of did happen though."

"Yes Shane."

"... I could piggyback you home?"

Ilya pulls back, actually looking Shane in the face again.

He's sweaty, and his face is wet and his eyes are red- was he crying? He looks...

"... bush first I think."

fair, he probably wants to dump out his, uh...

"sure yeah, of course. um, i think I have some napkins still that we didn't use at lunch..."

Shane pulls away slowly, in case Ilya was still using him for support, but Ilya lets him go, and Shane steps back, immediately swing his backpack around to the front and-

"Hollander. Did you- you came? just from...?"

Shane looks down at his shorts, still bulging somewhat over his slowly softening dick.

a massive damp area stretched across the front, and , indeed, he came so hard, and with so little, uh, material in the area, that several streamers of white streak downward from the mess, to drip onto the dirt.

"Uh. ... yeah."

Ilya's face creases with delight, and Shane figures the chirping will be worth it, considering Ilya looks much less miserable.

"Shane! no one touched you, no one even fucked you but still!"

Shane shrugs one shoulder and settles his bag, looking down into it to hide his face a little.

"Not true, actually."

"what? A ghost come up and-"

"You. uh. Your knee. When you, uhm, when you uh lost it, you brought your knee forward and your thigh kind of- I was close, um, so yeah."

Shane peeks up, and Ilya is staring at him.

"What?"

Ilya shakes his head.

"If I was not disgusting, I would fuck you right here."