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  • 2 weeks later...
  • 1 month later...

part 2: 

 

Lanrys loved visiting his cousins. They lived in an isolated cottage far out on a piece of property Lanrys had purchased for them. It was a three days’ ride on horseback from the castle and Lanrys was in the habit of only taking Ranlyn, despite persistent warnings that he was in danger of being robbed by bandits. They often spent a month or two at the cottage, away from Alice and the pressures of the kingdom. On the ride there and back they camped out in the woods while their horses slept quietly beneath the trees. They were able to relax, to be as open with each other as they wanted. It was a peaceful time, even if Lanrys only got to go once a year, if that.

 

This time was probably going to end up similar to the others. But right now Lanrys had to fucking piss. Ranlyn had watched him fidgeting and squirming uneasily on his horse for the last half-hour, but every time he offered to stop for a moment Lanrys refused, saying they’d gotten a late start, they needed to make good time before nightfall so they wouldn’t have to camp a fourth time, his cousins would worry, etc. Ranlyn was riding kind of alongside him and he could see the way Lanrys was leaning a little forward in the saddle, one hand on the reins, the other holding his crotch. His eyes were determinedly focused ahead, teeth sunk into his lower lip. His cheeks were flushed, and Ranlyn thought, you beautiful stubborn fool.

 

“Your majesty,” he said, as the horses entered a clearing he knew was still half a mile out from the cottage. “Wouldn’t you like to stop? It would only be for a moment—”

 

Lanrys gave him a look. He was gripping himself so hard his knuckles were white. Sweat stood out on his forehead despite the cool air and the relatively slow gait of the horses. He opened his mouth and a tiny, pained moan escaped his throat, and then he said,

 

“I thought—fuck. I thought you liked this, Ran.”

 

Ranlyn’s whole body ran hot and cold in dizzying simultaneity. His face must’ve done something he hadn’t intended because Lanrys’ mouth quirked up in a dry smile, and he said,

 

“I didn’t forget the banquet, honey.”

 

Ranlyn huffed. It had been over a month since the banquet, and they had never had a chance to try it out again. There was hardly any time for them to have to themselves during most of the year, and certainly not for anything longer than a brief tryst in one of the side rooms of the castle, Ranlyn sucking Lanrys off against the wall, Lanrys jerking Ranlyn into an empty container. Ranlyn would be a liar—and a shitty one at that—if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But there had been no opportunities, and he’d sort of assumed Lanrys had lost interest. But now—

 

“Assuming you still want it,” Lanrys added, after a moment, and Ranlyn’s grip tightened on his own horse’s reins.

 

“Yes,” he said, “yes, I want,” and Lanrys’ mouth twitched again. Then he winced, plunging his hand deeper between his thighs, doubling up as best he could while sitting. Ranlyn drew up alongside him, close enough they were almost touching, and reached out to lace his fingers over Lanrys’. He could feel the swollen tender bulge of his bladder beneath his trousers. Even though they were casual, they were still tight, and when Ranlyn touched him there he gasped. The pressure on his bladder must have been nearly unbearable.

 

“Nearly there now, love,” Ranlyn murmured, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat.

 

They rode on like that for a while, until they began to approach the winding path that led straight to the cottage. Then Ranlyn released Lanrys’ hand and pulled on the reins so he’d come in behind him. From the back Lanrys’ squirming was even more evident; Ranlyn could see him making involuntary attempts to press his thighs together, and the arch of his back as he continuously bent forward. As they drew up towards the clearing where the cottage was he moved his hand from his crotch, then winced again. Then they were within sight of the windows, and the cousins were rushing out: his adult cousin Lily and her husband, John, and their three children: Julia, Henry, and Catherine. The children came immediately towards the horses, exclaiming—as they always did—over their manes and fine hair. Ranlyn dismounted and could see Lanrys attempting to do the same, but the effort of moving his legs was proving too much. He offered Lily a tense smile which quickly turned into a frantic glance in Ranlyn’s direction, eyes wide and blaring obvious signals: I need to piss!

 

“Hello, your majesty,” Lily said, curtseying. “Long ride in?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Lanrys said. He was gingerly attempting to extricate one foot from its stirrup without jostling his bladder too much. Ranlyn could see the way his muscles flexed. He hurried around to the other side of the horse and began to ease Lanrys’ foot free from its confines.

 

“Majesty,” he murmured.

 

Lanrys made a tight, borderline panicked noise in the back of his throat. He set his hand on Ranlyn’s shoulder so that Ranlyn felt the tension in his body, the way he was shaking. He swung his other leg over the saddle to dismount and gasped. Ranlyn thought he saw a damp patch between his legs, though it may have only been a shadow. As his feet made contact with the ground he winced, hunching over as subtly as he could, hands heading automatically for his crotch before settling awkwardly at his middle. His younger cousins swarmed them both; Catherine, the youngest, hugged him around the legs, and Ranlyn saw his eyebrows pinch together as he reached out to pat her head.

 

He stepped forward, setting a hand on Lanrys’ shoulder. “Lily,” he said; they switched between using formalities and not so often it was like speaking another language. “Lanrys and I are rather tired after our journey—”

 

“Oh, of course,” Lily said. “Henry, would you run inside and see if Margaret has finished preparing the tea?”

 

Lanrys winced again. His body was dragging itself towards the ground. Ranlyn could see the bulge his bladder made beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Lils, c’mon, you don’t have to put yourself out—”

 

“Not even for my cousin the king?” Lily gave him a look, mouth twisted in a smile not unlike his own. “You and Ranlyn go inside, sweetie. We’ll make sure your things are taken care of,” gesturing to herself and her husband.

 

“Huh,” Lanrys said, a little like the word had been punched out of him. Ranlyn wanted to protest that wasn’t what he’d meant, but Julia and Catherine were already running to open the door and he couldn’t bear the idea of humiliating Lanrys in front of his cousins, so he just walked with him inside the cottage. Lanrys took small, shuffling steps, thighs brushing together. Ranlyn couldn’t remember how much he’d drunk throughout the day; it was late afternoon now, and they’d emptied several goatskins of water from the time they’d started three days ago, so it can’t have been much… but then Lanrys didn’t have an issue with drinking from streams the way Ranlyn did, and Lanrys was always thirsty when he rode on horseback, and they hadn’t stopped all day because Lanrys was in such a hurry…

 

He stepped over the threshold of the house and paused. “All right, majesty?” Julia asked as she raced ahead of him towards the kitchen area, and Lanrys leaned back against the wall for a second, crossing his legs tightly, before calling back,

 

“Yes, darling, I’m all right. Just stiff from the ride.” He looked at Ranlyn again as he straightened. Fresh sweat had broken out over his forehead. Ranlyn opened his mouth to ask did Lanrys need him to take emergency action, but before he could Henry was calling that the tea was ready, and they walked—Ranlyn adjusting his gait to match Lanrys’ steady limp—into the kitchen. The tea had been boiled in a massive cast-iron skillet over the fire; it smelled hot and good, scented with jasmine and other unidentifiable herbs. The kitchen maid, Margaret, was pouring it into cups set around the table; she paused to curtsey for Lanrys as he walked in and Lanrys offered her a thin smile. When he sat he had to go slow, and Ranlyn noticed he couldn’t quite sit all the way down, as though his muscles were no longer capable of going that way. Ranlyn sat next to him, setting a hand on his thigh out of everyone’s line of vision.

 

“Rys,” he murmured.

 

“‘m fine,” Lanrys said, through gritted teeth. He was obviously lying but Ranlyn couldn’t do anything about it here. He leaned across the table to take the proffered cups for himself and Lanrys, and once all five of them were served they looked at Lanrys. It was his duty to drink first, and none of them would lift their cups before he did. Ranlyn saw his hand slide between his legs, squeezing hard, before he lifted the cup to his mouth and drank. His throat worked determinedly around the liquid. His knee was starting to shake.

 

“What have you been up to since we last visited?” Ranlyn asked the kids, in an effort to distract Lanrys from the issue at hand. Henry launched into a heavy-handed description of the latest fantasy game he and his sisters had invented, and Ranlyn took their distraction as an opportunity to reach down and squeeze Lanrys’ free hand. He squeezed back tightly. He was still shaking. Every so often he’d lift the tea to his mouth, swallow, then wince; the movements were reflexive, but Lanrys clearly wasn’t capable of thinking hard enough to stop doing it, either. As he drained the last dregs of tea Lily and John entered the room; John clapped Lanrys on the back, Lanrys jolted, and Ranlyn watched as the front of his trousers grew noticeably darker. He looked at Lanrys’ face; Lanrys’ mouth was so thin it was bloodless, and Ranlyn knew there really wasn’t much time left, so he set his cup down and stood, stretching exaggeratedly.

 

“Lily,” he said, “John, I’m sorry to leave right as you’re coming in, but I have got to use your outhouse.” He made kind of a show of squeezing his own thighs together. “Long ride, you know.”

 

The kids started giggling. Lily’s face flushed scarlet, but she said, “Well, of course, you know where it is,” and Ranlyn said,

 

“Yeah. Uh. Your majesty?”

 

Lanrys turned his head in a painful-looking motion. “Yeah, Ran.”

 

“Would you—” Ranlyn hesitated, swallowed, thinking, then— “Don’t you need to stretch your legs? From the saddle?”

 

“I—” Lanrys drew in a breath. “Yes. Yes. That’s—yes.” He gripped the edge of the table and slowly dragged himself to his feet. His bladder was visibly swollen now, even through his shirt, and Ranlyn hoped it wasn’t obvious he was staring as he stepped aside to let Lanrys exit first. He followed him out into the hall, and then to the back door.

 

The second they were out of sight of the family Lanrys broke into a limping run, holding himself as he shuffled forward. He was working frantically at the laces of his trousers, trying to pull himself out before he’d reached the outhouse. Ranlyn followed, watching as he reached the door and banged on it. He was pretty far still, but not so much that he couldn’t hear the muffled sound of someone calling from inside:

 

“Occupied!”

 

“Fuck,” Lanrys groaned, doubling over, legs crossed, hands shoved between them. He looked up at Ranlyn with his eyes shining and the crotch of his trousers darkened again with a fresh burst of piss. Ranlyn’s cock twitched. He swallowed.

 

“It’s bad again, huh, love,” he murmured, when he was close enough he could whisper. Lanrys nodded frantically, extricating one hand so he could drag it down his thigh. He’d gotten his trousers unlaced and all that was necessary now was for him to unsnap and free himself from the confines of fabric. He was dancing from one foot to the other, crossing and recrossing his legs, eyes mostly shut.

 

“I can’t make it,” he whispered. “Fuck, Ran, fuck, I need—” He let out a shaky, unhappy gasp as piss blossomed out again, trickling down his leg. Ranlyn winced; he was almost fully hard, but he couldn’t bear the embarrassment for Lanrys. He walked behind him, laced their fingers together. He moved his hand out of the way and began unsnapping his trousers.

 

“What are you—”

 

“Just to ease the pressure a little, majesty,” Ranlyn said, and reached inside the soaked fabric to pull out Lanrys’ cock. He aimed it away from his feet and nudged his shoulder gently with his chin. Lanrys moaned,

 

“I can’t…” but he was already pissing, hard, into the dirt at his feet. Another moan escaped his lips, soft, relieved, and he leaned backwards a little against Ranlyn. Ranlyn kissed the side of his neck, grinding his hips up a little so Lanrys would feel the friction of his cock against his ass. Lanrys huffed out a short laugh:

 

“You fucking degenerate… oh, fuck, that feels—”

 

From inside the outhouse came the audible sound of britches rustling. Lanrys whimpered, tightening his muscles to cut off his flow, but he couldn’t quite manage to get it under control. As he tucked himself back into his pants he was still dribbling consistently, and Ranlyn had to step in front of him to hide the obvious fact of his accident as the outhouse door swung open. It was a servant Ranlyn vaguely recognized; he looked startled when he saw them, and made an awkward bow:

 

“Majesty—”

 

“Hello,” Lanrys said tightly, and then, “Excuse me,” and he darted past Ranlyn and inside. He didn’t bother shutting the door again; thankfully the servant was smart enough to walk away fast without looking back, so it was very easy indeed for Ranlyn to walk to the crack in the door and watch in the dim interior light as Lanrys dropped to his knees, pulled out his cock again, and began pissing into the hole in the ground. He groaned, more audibly this time. Ranlyn could feel him shuddering where he had his hand resting in his hair. With his other hand he rubbed at himself through his trousers.

 

“Fuck,” Lanrys breathed. His head tipped back into Ranlyn’s hand. His eyes were mostly shut. “Fuck, it feels good, Ran…” His stream gushed out, steady and strong and with no sign of slowing down. Ranlyn moaned involuntarily, tightening his hand in Lanrys’ hair:

 

“You did so good for me, majesty,” he breathed out, “holding it all this time, must’ve been so fucking hard, you were bursting, oh, fuck, there’s so much—”

 

He came in his trousers like a fucking teenager, just as Lanrys’ stream was slowing down into a trickle. It continued for a little while, then tapered off into dribbles, and finally nothing. Lanrys shook his cock a few times, then tucked himself back into his trousers, hoisted himself off the ground, and dragged Ranlyn forward for a savage, brutal kiss.

 

“I’m going to make this such a fucking show for you someday,” he said. “I’m going to make it so good for you. I promise.”

 

Ranlyn licked inside Lanrys’ mouth. He dragged their crotches together; the damp soaked fabric of Lanrys’ against the similarly damp fabric of Ranlyn’s. Eventually they parted, looked down at themselves, and began laughing.

 

“There’s a river nearby,” Lanrys said. “We could go wading, say we’d fallen in.”

 

“I love it when you talk business,” Ranlyn said, and he and Lanrys snickered all the way down to the bank of the river, holding hands in the low heat of the afternoon.

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