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malefemale In Need of Protection: A Secret Service omo romance


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I am writing a new omorashi story about a gay president’s son and his secret service protection agent. The idea is inspired by Kiera Andrew’s “Valor on the Move” a story I love, and thought the idea is not original the characters of this story are my own. By way of warning, this story will contain situations of danger and peril, though no-one will be seriously hurt by violence or killed (it is an omorashi fantasy after all). Feedback always welcome!

Never mind the State of the Union, it was the state of his bladder that 19 year old Leon Young was worried about.

Not that the bladder of the First Son of the United States had been at the top of his mother’s priority list when she chose to run for office. Leon’s father, a popular senator for the state of Arizona, had died of cancer when Leon was barely six years old, and President Esme Young had broken new ground in being not only the first female president of the US but a single mum to boot. She was not only shrewd, clever, charismatic and bold as a politician, but also had been a damn good mother to Leon, though in recent months her schedule had meant he didn’t see as much of her.

By way of contrast, Leon saw himself as just an awkward, nerdy teenager – quiet and sensitive with a weak bladder. He had no political ambition and got nervous when speaking in public. He certainly couldn’t imagine himself being elected to any kind of public role. But by a freak of fate, here he was, not only the First Son, but also the de facto First Gentleman, expected to give speeches and make small talk with the rich and famous, complete strangers to him but prominent supporters of his mother’s presidency. The most embarrassing thing was when he failed to recognise someone really important or famous; such as an NFL star or a singer who all his classmates growing up would give their right arms to meet in person, and he hadn’t a clue who they were.

Actually there was one thing more embarrassing than that he could think of, and that was that he was desperate for the loo and worried he was going to wet his pants.

Leon had been busting for a pee for about the last three hours, or so it seemed to him, though he couldn’t recall when he had last been or exactly when the urge had come on. The last time he recalled being this desperate was when he was 14 years old at his private school. He had been returning with his class from a trip to the Alamo, Texas, back to Phoenix and despite regular stops his small bladder had protested on the coach on the way back. He recalled leaking into his boxers a bit and how red and embarrassed he had looked, although thankfully no one seemed to notice the quiet, shy kid being quieter and shyer than usual. When finally they got back after the 15 hour drive, he raced down the bus, forgetting his bag and being called back by Professor Hutchins and told to wait. By this time he was spurting into his pants at regular intervals. He had dashed back to his dormitory bathroom as soon as he was able, but didn’t make it and completely soaked his charcoal grey school pants in the toilet cubicle. He remembered feeling mortified by the experience, but fortunately he had a kind group of friends, and despite getting teased a bit, none of his schoolmates acted like complete tossers so he was able to laugh off the incident. The worst part though was his professors found out and he had to talk to the school counsellor about why he hadn’t been able to hold it (as if is was his fault his bladder seemed to be barely the size of grapefruit) and why he had been shy about asking a teacher to stop the bus for him.

Now, however, he wasn’t just some kid in school uniform. He was the freaking First Gentleman, and he had been styled in a one of a kind periwinkle blue Brooks Brothers suit for President Young’s first State of the Union address. He didn’t think the President’s stylist would approve him wetting himself in it, and the thought of literally “creating a splash” that would give the tabloid paparazzi a field day at his expense was unbearable. Not to mention what his mother would say. Esme Young was kind, but he imagined that if all the headlines in the papers about her first State of the Union were replaced with lurid details of how the President’s son had pissed his pants at the reception, she might be a little upset.

Leon hated being on display, and the State of the Union was one of those important and showy occasions for the President and her family. He had a kid sister, Emily, who was 15 and who seemed to enjoy the limelight much better than him. But as First Gentleman Leon had public responsibilities, despite the fact no-one had elected him. For the State of the Union, President Young was invited to deliver the speech by the Speaker of the House, and then in accordance with protocol she could choose 24 guests to join Leon in the First Gentleman’s box. His first duty had been to stand for a family photo, with his mother, sister, aunt and uncle and a couple of cousins, then all the cameras has been on him as he was escorted to his seat, mainly watching to make sure he didn’t yawn or fall asleep it seemed as his mother talked for about education, finance reforms, health and an end to discrimination. This had lasted at least an hour, mainly due to all the applause, and then he had been whisked off to a drinks reception where he had  had to give a speech of his own thanking his mum’s many supporters and speechwriters. His sister Emily had managed to escape back to the White House but Leon was expected to stay on and thank in person a whole host of people whom he didn’t know, but whom his mother’s staff had shown him photos of.

Leon had given the worst speech ever. It went along the lines of “erm – thanks for coming and all your hard work… mum (I mean the president) will be along soon… you know how fantastic the president is… you all voted for her… at least I hope you did… erm.. keep enjoying your drink”. At least it had got a laugh out of Marco. Marco was the gorgeous, ripped latino man from the Secret Service who was in charge of Leon’s protection. His mother had a whole fleet of agents for protection, and Leon had a couple in the background, but it was Marco who watched out for Leon’s every move. Leon knew Marco was just doing a job but it seemed the agent genuinely seemed to like him, asking him questions about how he was feeling in the car and noticing when he seemed anxious or upset. He looked over at Marco, so suave and elegant in a black dinner jacket to blend in with the occasion, but with a telltale earpiece and bulge to conceal his weapon. God he looked so handsome. He gazed intently at Marco, his short black hair and deep brown eyes. Then Marco noticed he had been staring, and he seemed amused. Leon flushed with embarrassment.

A spasm in Leon’s bladder reminded him he needed to get to a toilet fast. He panicked, and thought he squirted into his pants a bit. Out of shyness, he had put off going in favour of feeling he still had to talk to another few dignitaries to please his mother, but he was about to create a scene. Quickly making excuses to some ambassador (who was praising him for how well he was stepping into his duties as First Gentleman for such a young man) he headed for the exit of the reception room. Marco quickly followed him. Leon noticed the sign to the gents toilets down a flight of stairs.

Marco Garcia had his eyes fixed on Leon and was watching his every move. The First Son was devilishly cute, with those fluffy brown curls and lost puppy dog eyes. Marco constantly wanted to give the lad an enormous hug, he seemed so on edge a lot of the time. Leon seemed to think the whole fate of the USA rested on his shoulders, and any slip would create an international incident. He was not the typical brash rich kid he had dealt with in the past. He remembered doing a protection detail for Freddie Green, an arrogant twenty year old film star, who thought he ruled the world and was racist to cap it all off. Then one day he had come back drunk from a party and pissed the bed. Karma, thought Marco.

But Leon was simply adorable. Marco couldn’t think of a more kind, grateful, and polite young man, even if he did seem afraid of the entire world. Leon was gay, as was Marco, and if it wasn’t for professional boundaries and safety concerns, Marco would be wanting to hold him tight forever. At least he wasn’t conflicted about his job. If he was going to take a bullet for someone, Leon was definitely a worthy person. Now, Leon was staring at him, and looked a little – embarrassed? He has a crush on me, thought Marco, and smiled. If only things were different.

His earpiece crackled.

“Marco – it’s getting worse. Lioness won’t be coming over to the reception yet.. we are taking her straight back to the Castle.”

This wasn’t good. Lioness was the code word for the President. If she wasn’t coming to the reception that meant the threat level from the protestors was more serious than first thought, and she would be going back to the White House. There had been protests at certain key political events for over a decade now, stretching right back to the Capitol riot of 2021, and President Young had had her fair share of protests. Some protested her policies, others just couldn’t seem to get used to having a woman in charge, especially one without a husband. Most of the time the protests were just a lot of noise, but tonight was different. Marco had a hunch it was a lot more serious, and Marco’s hunches were usually right.

“Copy that,” said Marco. “Do you want me to pull Tiger out?”

“Better safe than sorry. Yeah, bring him back down to the basement via the south staircase, the cars will be there soon. Oh and hang on there is something else…”

Marco noticed his supervisor John sounded anxious. “All okay?”

“Yes – I’m just hearing things are getting a bit out of hand on the Mezzanine level. It’s one level below you. Some protestors have broken through a window into the gents toilet. Keep Tiger away from there, will you?”

“No worries.”

Leon was moving now, and Marco relied this to the earpiece. “Tiger’s moving. I’m going for him. Oh no, I think he’s headed for the bathroom.”

“Move, Move!” cried John urgently. “Marco – you have to stop him. Whatever it takes.”

Marco didn’t need telling twice.

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16 minutes ago, kilianj74 said:

I am writing a new omorashi story about a gay president’s son and his secret service protection agent. The idea is inspired by Kiera Andrew’s “Valor on the Move” a story I love, and thought the idea is not original the characters of this story are my own. By way of warning, this story will contain situations of danger and peril, though no-one will be seriously hurt by violence or killed (it is an omorashi fantasy after all). Feedback always welcome!

Never mind the State of the Union, it was the state of his bladder that 19 year old Leon Young was worried about.

Not that the bladder of the First Son of the United States had been at the top of his mother’s priority list when she chose to run for office. Leon’s father, a popular senator for the state of Arizona, had died of cancer when Leon was barely six years old, and President Esme Young had broken new ground in being not only the first female president of the US but a single mum to boot. She was not only shrewd, clever, charismatic and bold as a politician, but also had been a damn good mother to Leon, though in recent months her schedule had meant he didn’t see as much of her.

By way of contrast, Leon saw himself as just an awkward, nerdy teenager – quiet and sensitive with a weak bladder. He had no political ambition and got nervous when speaking in public. He certainly couldn’t imagine himself being elected to any kind of public role. But by a freak of fate, here he was, not only the First Son, but also the de facto First Gentleman, expected to give speeches and make small talk with the rich and famous, complete strangers to him but prominent supporters of his mother’s presidency. The most embarrassing thing was when he failed to recognise someone really important or famous; such as an NFL star or a singer who all his classmates growing up would give their right arms to meet in person, and he hadn’t a clue who they were.

Actually there was one thing more embarrassing than that he could think of, and that was that he was desperate for the loo and worried he was going to wet his pants.

Leon had been busting for a pee for about the last three hours, or so it seemed to him, though he couldn’t recall when he had last been or exactly when the urge had come on. The last time he recalled being this desperate was when he was 14 years old at his private school. He had been returning with his class from a trip to the Alamo, Texas, back to Phoenix and despite regular stops his small bladder had protested on the coach on the way back. He recalled leaking into his boxers a bit and how red and embarrassed he had looked, although thankfully no one seemed to notice the quiet, shy kid being quieter and shyer than usual. When finally they got back after the 15 hour drive, he raced down the bus, forgetting his bag and being called back by Professor Hutchins and told to wait. By this time he was spurting into his pants at regular intervals. He had dashed back to his dormitory bathroom as soon as he was able, but didn’t make it and completely soaked his charcoal grey school pants in the toilet cubicle. He remembered feeling mortified by the experience, but fortunately he had a kind group of friends, and despite getting teased a bit, none of his schoolmates acted like complete tossers so he was able to laugh off the incident. The worst part though was his professors found out and he had to talk to the school counsellor about why he hadn’t been able to hold it (as if is was his fault his bladder seemed to be barely the size of grapefruit) and why he had been shy about asking a teacher to stop the bus for him.

Now, however, he wasn’t just some kid in school uniform. He was the freaking First Gentleman, and he had been styled in a one of a kind periwinkle blue Brooks Brothers suit for President Young’s first State of the Union address. He didn’t think the President’s stylist would approve him wetting himself in it, and the thought of literally “creating a splash” that would give the tabloid paparazzi a field day at his expense was unbearable. Not to mention what his mother would say. Esme Young was kind, but he imagined that if all the headlines in the papers about her first State of the Union were replaced with lurid details of how the President’s son had pissed his pants at the reception, she might be a little upset.

Leon hated being on display, and the State of the Union was one of those important and showy occasions for the President and her family. He had a kid sister, Emily, who was 15 and who seemed to enjoy the limelight much better than him. But as First Gentleman Leon had public responsibilities, despite the fact no-one had elected him. For the State of the Union, President Young was invited to deliver the speech by the Speaker of the House, and then in accordance with protocol she could choose 24 guests to join Leon in the First Gentleman’s box. His first duty had been to stand for a family photo, with his mother, sister, aunt and uncle and a couple of cousins, then all the cameras has been on him as he was escorted to his seat, mainly watching to make sure he didn’t yawn or fall asleep it seemed as his mother talked for about education, finance reforms, health and an end to discrimination. This had lasted at least an hour, mainly due to all the applause, and then he had been whisked off to a drinks reception where he had  had to give a speech of his own thanking his mum’s many supporters and speechwriters. His sister Emily had managed to escape back to the White House but Leon was expected to stay on and thank in person a whole host of people whom he didn’t know, but whom his mother’s staff had shown him photos of.

Leon had given the worst speech ever. It went along the lines of “erm – thanks for coming and all your hard work… mum (I mean the president) will be along soon… you know how fantastic the president is… you all voted for her… at least I hope you did… erm.. keep enjoying your drink”. At least it had got a laugh out of Marco. Marco was the gorgeous, ripped latino man from the Secret Service who was in charge of Leon’s protection. His mother had a whole fleet of agents for protection, and Leon had a couple in the background, but it was Marco who watched out for Leon’s every move. Leon knew Marco was just doing a job but it seemed the agent genuinely seemed to like him, asking him questions about how he was feeling in the car and noticing when he seemed anxious or upset. He looked over at Marco, so suave and elegant in a black dinner jacket to blend in with the occasion, but with a telltale earpiece and bulge to conceal his weapon. God he looked so handsome. He gazed intently at Marco, his short black hair and deep brown eyes. Then Marco noticed he had been staring, and he seemed amused. Leon flushed with embarrassment.

A spasm in Leon’s bladder reminded him he needed to get to a toilet fast. He panicked, and thought he squirted into his pants a bit. Out of shyness, he had put off going in favour of feeling he still had to talk to another few dignitaries to please his mother, but he was about to create a scene. Quickly making excuses to some ambassador (who was praising him for how well he was stepping into his duties as First Gentleman for such a young man) he headed for the exit of the reception room. Marco quickly followed him. Leon noticed the sign to the gents toilets down a flight of stairs.

Marco Garcia had his eyes fixed on Leon and was watching his every move. The First Son was devilishly cute, with those fluffy brown curls and lost puppy dog eyes. Marco constantly wanted to give the lad an enormous hug, he seemed so on edge a lot of the time. Leon seemed to think the whole fate of the USA rested on his shoulders, and any slip would create an international incident. He was not the typical brash rich kid he had dealt with in the past. He remembered doing a protection detail for Freddie Green, an arrogant twenty year old film star, who thought he ruled the world and was racist to cap it all off. Then one day he had come back drunk from a party and pissed the bed. Karma, thought Marco.

But Leon was simply adorable. Marco couldn’t think of a more kind, grateful, and polite young man, even if he did seem afraid of the entire world. Leon was gay, as was Marco, and if it wasn’t for professional boundaries and safety concerns, Marco would be wanting to hold him tight forever. At least he wasn’t conflicted about his job. If he was going to take a bullet for someone, Leon was definitely a worthy person. Now, Leon was staring at him, and looked a little – embarrassed? He has a crush on me, thought Marco, and smiled. If only things were different.

His earpiece crackled.

“Marco – it’s getting worse. Lioness won’t be coming over to the reception yet.. we are taking her straight back to the Castle.”

This wasn’t good. Lioness was the code word for the President. If she wasn’t coming to the reception that meant the threat level from the protestors was more serious than first thought, and she would be going back to the White House. There had been protests at certain key political events for over a decade now, stretching right back to the Capitol riot of 2021, and President Young had had her fair share of protests. Some protested her policies, others just couldn’t seem to get used to having a woman in charge, especially one without a husband. Most of the time the protests were just a lot of noise, but tonight was different. Marco had a hunch it was a lot more serious, and Marco’s hunches were usually right.

“Copy that,” said Marco. “Do you want me to pull Tiger out?”

“Better safe than sorry. Yeah, bring him back down to the basement via the south staircase, the cars will be there soon. Oh and hang on there is something else…”

Marco noticed his supervisor John sounded anxious. “All okay?”

“Yes – I’m just hearing things are getting a bit out of hand on the Mezzanine level. It’s one level below you. Some protestors have broken through a window into the gents toilet. Keep Tiger away from there, will you?”

“No worries.”

Leon was moving now, and Marco relied this to the earpiece. “Tiger’s moving. I’m going for him. Oh no, I think he’s headed for the bathroom.”

“Move, Move!” cried John urgently. “Marco – you have to stop him. Whatever it takes.”

Marco didn’t need telling twice.

Love it!!! 

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When you are desperate for the toilet, there is a strange law which takes effect, where the closer you physically are to the bathroom the more likely you feel you are to wet yourself. It is almost as if your brain and body decide that after hours of holding the hard work is done and it is time for release, forgetting those last few vital steps you have to complete to avoid dry pants. These steps can include dashing from a warm car to a warm house through cold air, identifying the correct door key on a bunch of  4 identical looking keys, fumbling to undo a belt or zipper, or navigating a flight of stairs without tripping up.

By the time Leon had got to the staircase, his brain was already starting the launch sequence in preparation for his piss. What he wasn’t planning for was Marco getting in his way.”

“Leon! STOP!”

Marco’s loud shout startled him. In fact that was an understatement. It almost scared the piss out of him, and generally when people said that they weren’t being literal.

Annoyed, he wheeled around. “Marco what the frick! I’m about ten seconds from pissing myself.”

Marco grabbed him by the wrist. His face looked pink with embarrassment, and he was breathing heavily – having clearly run to catch up with Leon. “I’m sorry. You need to come with me. It isn’t safe for you here.”

Leon stared at him, confused. What was happening? Marco never grabbed hold of him. Yes, he followed him like a shadow, and Leon was expecting him to wait outside the toilet when he went, but Marco never grabbed hold of him. He always retained a polite, respectful distance, scanning the area for threats before allowing Leon to go forward, but then keeping both his hands free just in case… in case the worse happened and he needed to use his gun.

“I need to use the bathroom. I won’t be long, then I’m all yours.” All yours? What was he doing? Trying to chat up Marco?

He turned to walk away, but Marco did not let go, tugging Leon back. “I’m sorry, we have to get you to the car.”

Leon felt himself sweating. His legs were starting to go dead, and he felt a numb throbbing in his crotch, his penis beginning to tingle. He knew from several close calls that these were the first signs he was about to lose control of his bladder. He hadn’t had a public accident in years, but he knew the sensations too well and he absolutely knew he wouldn’t make it to any car, let alone survive a car journey.

“You don’t understand,” Leon pleaded.  “I… I have a weak bladder and I’ve been nervous and distracted all day… I need the toilet and it won’t wait and I’m not going to make it to the car.” Nervously Leon glanced around. A few people had stopped and were staring at them. Some looked concerned, others curious, but they were all vultures to Leon. Why was Marco humiliating him like this? In public?

“We can deal with it in the car,” Marco said. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is we need to go, and go now.”

Angrily, Leon pulled back. He thought Marco was his friend, that he cared about his feelings, but now he was being a jerk. Was he actually getting off on the idea of forcing Leon to wet himself in public and be humiliated? Well, Marco might be his wet dream and hopeless crush but he had no right to take away Leon’s dignity. And Leon knew a thing or two about self defence. He rotated his arm so that Marco’s fingertips around his wrist were facing towards him. Then with his free arm he grabbed his own hand and pulled his arm free with all the force he could muster, breaking the grip of Marco. Not wasting any time, he raced down the stairs.

“No!” shrieked Marco in a high pitched voice.

Something was wrong. Marco sounded… terrified? What was happening?

Then he felt a pair of arms grabbing him firmly round the stomach, and lifting him clean off his feet. The extra pressure around his belly was too much for Leon, and he felt a warmth and dampness in his underwear as he started to leak.

----

Damn it. Marco had been distracted for just a second by Leon’s worries about needing the toilet, and in his hesitancy, Leon had run like a frightened deer into the arms of a predator. In a split second Marco sized up the man who had lifted up his protectee like a rag doll. He had muscles, sure, and was a tank of a man, but not a lot of grace and balance. Leon was writhing like crazy, his hands desperately gripping his crotch, and the man was trying to get over to the mob which was emerging from the bathroom.

Marco felt sick at the sight, and was filled with an intense hatred towards Leon’s captor. Ignoring the protocol of waiting for backup, he charged down the stairs and headlong at the man, delivering a  flying kick to the man’s side. The man cried out in pain and dropped Leon to the ground. He tried to grab a hold of Leon again, but sensing danger, Leon loosed his jacket and ran away from the man, back up the stairs.

Without wasting any time, Marco grabbed Leon’s hand and raced with him along the corridor, towards the door to the basement stairs. This time there was no resistance from Leon, but by now panic had spread across the reception guests, and there were shrieks and shouts as people ran in all directions and the stewards failed to corral them into any particular direction. Security guards raced out of the main hall, blocking off the stairway to the Mezzanine level and trying to keep the guests from the mob.

Leon had gone white as a sheet. He was shaking all over, his hair was dishevelled, and his crisp white shirt was dripping with sweat. His periwinkle blue trousers now had a large wet patch on them, and he was frantically trying to brush the dampness away with his free hand, as if hoping it would disappear that way. Marco pulled open the door to the basement stairs and –

BANG!

The sound came from behind them, Marco, thought, but it was impossible to tell. It sounded like a flashbang, but could have been a gunshot.

Marco had Leon on the floor in a second, his frightened body totally covered by his own, and he pressed Leon’s head into the ground with his hands. The frightened boy was whimpering softly, “I couldn’t hold it.. I’m sorry.”

“Shush, stay down, it’s going to be alright”, Marco said in the most soothing voice he could, even though he wasn’t sure in his own mind it was true.

As he lay on top of Leon, his chest pressed down on his back and their legs interlocking, Marco felt his trousers getting warm and damp and heard the soft hiss coming from the crotch of his protectee. The puddle spread around them, and Marco clung to Leon as tightly as he could, praying that they would soon be okay.

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Leon had imagined Marco lying on top of him before, pinning him so he couldn’t move, and had jerked off to it. But he had never imagined it like this, in a life threatening situation. His confused dick was getting hard at the man of his dreams holding him safe and tight, and the relief he had got releasing his bladder and soaking his suit pants was also surprisingly arousing. A few moments ago he had been embarrassed, even terrified at the thought that as the nineteen year old First Son of the US he might wet himself, but the warmth of the pee in his pants for now felt strangely comforting. At least getting threatened by a mob of rioters was a damn good excuse to pee himself, and no paparazzi or tabloids could hold this against him now without seeming like insensitive jerks.

Leon didn’t want to move, and the warm, soft body of Marco above him made him feel safe, but his brain reminded him that they were still on the floor of a hotel landing, in the middle of a riot, and the appropriate response was still sheer terror.

Leon could hear shouts and screams, the angry voices of security guards and people rushing to get away. But there were no more bangs, or gunshots, and it sounded like most of the consternation was coming from downstairs now, on the Mezzanine level.

After a while, Marco’s earpiece crackled, and with their faces pressed so close together, Leon could just about make out what was being said.

“Marco? Do you read? What’s the status of Tiger?”

“Yeah, he’s with me. Unhurt but we’re on the ground. What was the bang?”

“Flashbang. On of the rioters had one, to create panic, but we haven’t seen any more weapons yet, so you’re safe for now. There are a lot more rioters than we first thought though. They are pouring in on the lower levels and they have taken over the ground floor and mezzanine level of the hotel. Security are holding them off at the doors and staircases but they are starting to get in through the windows. You need to move Tiger out.”

“Copy that. We’ll head down to the basement now John.”

“No – the stairs and basement level aren’t secure. There’s a safe room in the penthouse suite. You’ll need to use the executive lift. Is it nearby?”

“Yes – it’s just across the landing.”

“Okay. You’ll need your keycard. Swipe it to enter the lift, then press the button for the top two floors at the same time, that will bring you to the penthouse level. Turn left, walk through the bedroom and there is a second door next to the ensuite bathroom. That’s the safe room. When you and Tiger are inside, find the panel on the right of the door. Key in the code 5899 and the doors will lock you in. Go now.”

“Copy. We’re on the move. Over.”

Marco whispered to Leon, “Okay, we’ve got to move now. We’re headed for the elevators. Stay behind me, keep low to the ground. Alright?”

Leon’s heart was racing, and he made a noise that sounded like “fine”, but came out wrong. Marco climbed off him, and helped the First Son to a crouch position. Leon felt him stroke his back, which was reassuring.

“Ready to go?”

Leon nodded, and they scrambled as fast as they could to the elevators. Marco reached up to swipe his key card, but kept Leon behind him as the doors pinged open. The executive elevator was not accessible to the public, and was empty, so Marco bundled Leon in. Leon was about to stand but Marco pushed him to the ground. “No, stay down.”

He followed Leon in and only when the doors closed did Marco stand and push the top two buttons, marked 7 and 8,  to take them up to the top level. Leon sat in the corner of the lift, inspecting his trousers, the light blue stained now with soaking dark piss. He bowed his head in shame, but Marco said nothing, nor was Marco paying any attention to the fact that his own black suit pants were also damp where Leon had peed through his own pants and onto them. He watched the numbers on the hotel lift go up in number – 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and then a number 9 appeared which hadn’t been on any of the lift buttons.

The doors opened to a plush apartment. In front of them was a spacious lounge, complete with pool table and minibar. To the right was a kitchen, which led out onto the balcony, where Leon thought he spotted a hot tub. Leon couldn’t think of a more perfect place to spend with the man he had a crush on (except maybe the state bedrooms of the White House). For now however there was no time for that. Marco guided him through the bedroom on the left, and into a smaller room, with no windows. It had soft furnishings and dim lighting, and just looked like a small lounge. There was a comfy looking sofa, a small coffee table, a desk in the corner (with a connected telephone) and what looked like a drinks cabinet. While Marco pressed the buttons to lock the room, Leon moved to the sofa. Conscious of his wet pants, he couldn’t bring himself to sit on the expensive leather, so instead he sat on the floor in the corner of the room, pulling his legs to himself and staring at the floor.

The doors of the safe room clicked locked, and Leon shuddered. The anxiety, stress and embarrassment of the evening finally got to him, and he started to cry, uncontrollably. He didn’t bear look up at Marco as his protection agent crouched down next to him and sat on the floor.

“Be careful,” Leon said, his humiliation in front of his crush complete. “I… I wet my pants. You must think me disgusting.”

But Marco simply hugged Leon tight. “It’s okay Leon. I’m here. It’s only me.” Then he kissed Leon on the cheek, and Leon melted into his arms.

Into his radio, Marco said, “Marco here. We’re in the safe room. Tiger is secure.”

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Marco clung tightly to Leon with a protectiveness that surprised him. Before Leon, his protectees had always just been assignments. He was trained to value their lives above his own, to get his body between them and any sources of threat, even to block bullets from potential assassins, but all in the service of his country, not because he particularly liked them. But as he watched the shivering, frightened First Son in his arms, looking so completely exhausted and helpless, all he wanted to do was wrap him in cotton wool and keep him safe for ever. Marco had known since he was a boy that he was gay, and had had his share of men for kicks over the years, but Leon was different. Leon he wanted to take to bed, holding him so tightly and stroking him all over until all the shame and fear and anxious melted away. Even holding him now seemed to be having some effect. The tense worry lines etched across Leon’s face, and that constant effort that the First Son seemed to put into appearing in control and “grown up” was melting away in his embrace, and he looked more youthful and even more beautiful. Marco couldn’t resist kissing Leon again, and though Leon flinched for a second with surprise, he didn’t shrink away but smiled up at Marco with contentment.

“Thank you,” he said to Marco after a time. “You are so strong, not like me. I don’t think I’m at all suited to being the First Gentleman. I should have stayed in control. I should have gone to the toilet earlier, I don’t know why I didn’t. I’m a disgrace. The First Son isn’t supposed to wet his pants.” He spoke shakily and looked down at the floor in shock.”

“Hey, hey,” Marco said, stroking Leon’s cheek and turning Leon’s face to look at him. “You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. A traumatic event which no-one should have to face. It doesn’t matter if you had an accident.”

“But it’s so embarrassing,” Leon said, turning pink. “I’m supposed to be an adult, and yet I still have bladder issues. I haven’t had an accident for a long time, but I still occasionally wet the bed. In the white house. How embarrassing is that? I think the US citizens should be able to elect their First Son and First Gentleman, along with their president. I’m just an embarrassment. What the hell is my mother going to think of me when she finds out I wet myself?”

Marco thought Esme Young wouldn’t care less about the state of Leon’s trousers – like any mother she would simply be overwhelmed with relief that he hadn’t been shot by a terrorist. When they reunited, she would be plying him with unlimited hugs and ice cream for the next fortnight knowing her. If he was lucky, Leon could probably stay in bed watching Netflix for the next month while drinking mugs of hot chocolate and the President wouldn’t mind. But it wouldn’t particularly help to say that to Leon, especially if I hadn’t appreciated the level of danger they had been in.

Instead he said, “You forget I’ve been in the military. I’ve seen plenty of grown men wet the bed and piss their pants in far less scary situations than you faced tonight. Hell, I’ve even seen men shit themselves. And they are bigger than you. And far less cute.”

Leon laughed a bit at that, and his shoulders relaxed. “You’re right. It’s not the end of the world. Still, these wet pants are starting to bug me now. At first they were warm, but now they are cold and clingy which is far less fun.”

Marco raised his eyebrows. “You mean you found it fun earlier, being in danger?”

“No, no of course not. It’s just…” He went pink with embarrassment. “With you on top of me, and when I was wetting myself – it was such a relief after holding in all that tension – it actually felt weirdly good, almost comforting. It reminded me of that feeling I got being in the sea and being free to pee in my swimming trunks with no-one knowing or caring, but the water getting warm around my crotch. Kind of naughty but exciting at the same time.”

Marco grinned. “I know that feeling. I remember on military exercises a few times when you had to keep on the move and couldn’t stop. We had to wade through rivers and stuff, and if we were desperate to pee some of us would just go in our pants. A few of the lads would make jokes about it. And there were other times, when we would get a chance to swim in the lakes, just in our underwear, and so we would pee in the lake. Or even pee our pants on the beach if we felt like it. It was kind of – freeing.”

Leon looked at him in awe, open mouthed. “Wow. That is so sexy. Like a literal wet dream for me.” Then, realising where he was, he said. “I’m sorry. This is really inappropriate. You’re my protection agent, and I’m putting you in a really awkward position.” He looked rapidly around the safe room. “I hope this place doesn’t have cameras or audio or we’re done for.”

 “It’s okay. They wouldn’t bother checking the footage anyway.” Marco stood up, and stretched out a hand to pull Leon up also. “We should get you out of these wet pants though.”

Leon looked embarrassed. I haven’t anything to wear.

Marco said, “I’d offer you my trousers, but they are a bit wet too.” He stripped them off, and Leon noticed he was wearing white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. They were slightly yellow and damp at the bottom where Leon’s piss had soaked through earlier, but relatively dry around the crotch.”

“Sorry about that,” Leon said, his face going crimson.

“No worries.” Marco was looking around the safe room. “Shame there isn’t a bed in here, or a toilet even. That seems like a bit of an oversight.” As soon as he said that, Marco realised he was feeling an urge to pee. He had been standing guard for most of the evening and hadn’t had a chance to go, and he thought he would have been in the car with Leon going back to the White House by now. But here they were, stuck in the saferoom in a hotel penthouse suite in another part of Washington DC. The irony was, that just through a wall was an ensuite bathroom. But he couldn’t risk opening the safe room. The rioters could have overrun the hotel by now, even overridden the lift to get into the penthouse suite, or swiped a card off someone. It was unlikely, but the risk was always there, and if it came to a choice between keeping his pants dry or his protectee alive there really was only one option.

He did, however, find a few paper towels over by the drinks cabinet and a blanket which had been  thrown over the corner of the sofa. He passed them over to Leon.

“Here, why don’t you take off your pants and underwear and wrap this blanket around you. I can dry them on the radiator.”

Leon gratefully took them, and sheepishly pulled down his blue suit pants. Hesitantly he pulled down his soaking black boxer briefs and passed them over to Marco. Marco should have averted his gaze, but his eyes were fixed on Leon’s cock and the beautifully trimmed hair around it. Leon didn’t seem to phased but noticing Marco looking he coughed subtly and Marco averted his gaze. He carefully hung Leon’s pants and briefs around the radiator without comment, as if he had been doing the laundry back in the army barracks.

When he turned back to Leon, Leon was sitting on the sofa, still shivering slightly, with the blanket round his legs to cover his nakedness. Marco remained standing, a distance away. He looked through the peephole camera from the safe room, but all was quiet. Standing in just his suit shirt and underwear, he involuntarily shivered. Perhaps it was the cold, or his need to pee, he couldn’t tell.

“Marco, come here,” Leon said. “You look freezing, and quite frankly I don’t care about protocol I just want you near me. No-one will come bursting through the safe room door I assume, so you don’t need to be quite so much on guard.”

Marco sighed. Leon was right, they were perfectly safe, and it would probably take the police and the capitol guard a while to clear the rioters out of the hotel, especially as it seemed there were quite a lot of them. He hoped everyone else was safe out there.

Leon beckoned him over, and Marco sat down on the sofa next to the First Son, who was making himself comfortable.

“Come closer,” Leon said. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command. Leon lifted the blanket and wrapped it completely around Marco as well as himself, and pulled them both down onto the bed. Their bodies interlocked, with just Marco’s thin briefs separating their most intimate regions. They both still had their shirts on but had jettisoned the ties, and as he and Leon drew closer together, exhaustion finally hit him.

“I should stay awake,” Marco said. “They might radio in or want to move us.”

Leon just cuddled him. “Don’t worry,” he said, and now Marco felt safe and warm, which was ironic because that wasn’t the duty of a Secret Service agent. “If they shout loudly into your earpiece or start banging down the door. I am sure you’ll wake up. For now, let’s just get some rest.”

Marco nodded, and snuggled close.

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Marco was standing in the corridors of the Whitehouse, keeping a respectful distance away from Leon, who was sitting at a desk with one President Young’s advisors, Martin. Martin was showing Leon a set of photographs, in preparation for the inaugural ball, and Leon was asking him about the names and significance to his mother of the ones he didn’t recognise. As he stood there, Marco started to feel restless, and was conscious of a dull ache in his bladder. He wanted Leon to hurry up or for one of the other agents on his detail to replace him for a moment, and thought about radioing a colleague to say he needed to take a break, but was too embarrassed to do so. He reached down to hold himself unconsciously, but then realised what he was doing and flushed with heat, as he worried that he might be spotted and people might think him some kind of pervert.

Marco’s eyes flitted around the room for signs of danger, but there was nothing he could spot, although he felt rather woozy and not at all clear eyed. Conscious his crotch was giving him discomfort, he tried to fidget, but was surprised that his legs seemed cemented to the ground and he couldn’t move at all. He looked down at his legs, and to his horror, he realised he wasn’t wearing any trousers, just a pair of his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Then he realised he wasn’t in the White House at all, but in the hotel ballroom for the inaugural ball, just in his underwear. Politicians, Diplomats and Ambassadors were all staring at him clutching his crotch, and then President Young was looking straight at him, her mouth open wide in utter shock. All around him people were laughing and calling out his name, but then to his relief Leon was at his side, wrapping a blanket around him and telling people to mind their own business. But the laughter and cat calling continued. He held his hands to his ear, feeling confused, dizzy, and desperate for a toilet, but he couldn’t leave his spot, he had to stay there and he was worried about peeing in his underpants. Then the volume was getting louder and louder, and the jeering voices started to sound like interference in his earpiece rather than distinct sounds, except for his name.

“Marco – Marco – MARCO do you copy?”

Several things happened at once. Marco jolted awake, remembered he was in the safe room with Leon, heard the sound of his boss John on the radio, and was so startled a jet of piss shot into his white Calvins before he could prevent it. He broke away from Leon’s hold on the sofa instantly and staggered to his feet, then clutched his crotch with all his might. Trying to keep his voice even, and not betray the fact that he felt he was about to soak himself in a matter of seconds, he said back into his radio,

“Marco here.”

He could here John chuckle at the end of the line. “Sounds a bit like you dozed off there Marco. “ Marco was grateful John hadn’t reprimanded him for his lack of alertness. He knew that they were out of harm’s way in the safe room and not in immediate danger, but technically this could have been a problem.

“Sorry sir. How are things going? What’s the threat level?”

“We’re still on high alert, but the police have cleared the protestors out of the lower levels, and tonnes of people have been arrested. The president is absolutely livid, particularly with Tiger being caught up it, but we assured her that you are both out of harm’s way in the safe room for the time being.”

“Do you want us to come out now?” Marco asked, and could hear Leon snickering in the background at the double meaning.

“Not yet. We need to sweep the upper floors of the hotel first, for any traps or to see if any protestors got through the cordon. We have evacuated everyone and I am pretty sure no one will have got anywhere near you in the penthouse, but can’t be too careful. Don’t worry, we’ll take Tiger back home soon and then you’ll be relieved. Should be about half an hour.”

Marco grimaced. He was going to be relieving himself into his pants in far less than half an hour.

“Copy that. Just one more thing – can you bring up a change of clothes for Tiger and myself? Ours got pretty messed up in the riot.”

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you say?” John said urgently. “Is there any bleeding? Do you need medical aid?”

“Negative. There’s no blood. We just need a change of pants that’s all.”

“If you insist, but Tiger shouldn’t worry about how he looks,” John said. “Cameras are all gone and he’ll be home soon enough”.

Angrily, Marco said. “Tiger and I need new pants. Do we have to spell it out?”

“Oh,” John replied and then there was an awkward silence. “Yes of course we can do that. Sit tight, we’ll be with you soon.”

“Okay, over.”

Sit tight! Like that was going to happen. He could barely stand or sit still. He looked over at Leon, who was now sitting up on the sofa, awake, and grinning mischievously at him.

“You doing alright there Marco?” Leon said. “You look a little distracted.”

“I’m fine. I’m just…” he faltered.

“About to wet your pants?” said Leon happily.

“Yes. I mean no. I’ll be fine. It won’t be long.” It’s just frustrating. I’ve been on duty all day, and wasn’t expecting to be locked in a safe room which inconveniently doesn’t have any toilet facilities.” He looked apologetically at Leon. “I’m sorry. I’m being really unprofessional today. I should be concentrating on keeping you safe, not being distracted by my bladder.”

“Maybe you should just let it all go,” Leon said looking at Marco with a glint in his brown eyes. “That way it won’t be a distraction any more.”

“I can’t,” said Marco. He walked over to the drinks cabinet, which was in the corner of the room, “There’s no bloody toilet. And we can’t leave the room yet. I’m going to have to use this glass.”

Marco reached down to pull his penis out of his boxers, when he heard Leon say a sharp, “NO.”

He looked at the first son in confusion. “What do you mean, no?”

“I have a naughty idea,” Leon said.  “You told the Secret Service to bring us both a set of spare clothes right?”

“Yes, but that’s just because my trousers got wet from your mishap earlier. My underwear is more or less dry.”

“I want it to be more or less wet. Why don’t you just pee in your pants like I did? You said you used to like doing it in rivers and lakes. Well now is your chance to have a bit of fun.”

Marco went red. “You want me to deliberately piss myself?”

Leon licked his lips. “That would be so hot. And it would make me feel a lot better about myself. Then we would be even, both having pissed out pants, and I wouldn’t feel so embarrassed about it.”

“It’s nothing to be worry about,” Marco said. “Lots of people piss themselves when they are scared.”

“Exactly”, said Leon seductively. “It’s nothing to worry about. So do it.”

“It will be a mess. It will get everywhere.”

“Then use the glass to catch the drips. Come on, it will be hot.”

“You’re going to get me fired if you are not careful. But okay.”

Leon watched as Marco unbuttoned his shirt so he could get a clear view of his white Calvins and his package. They were slightly damp already, as Marco had already squirted in them once. He positioned his dick facing downwards, and the glass below his cloth covered balls to catch the drips. Then with as much control as he could muster, he started to pee.

It wasn’t noticeable straight away, but after a few seconds Leon watched as yellow liquid bubbled through Marco’s white boxers, and then a dark damp patch outlined where his private parts were. He heard a hissing noise and then the sound of the pint glass as it filled up with the piss, which was a dark colour, looking rather like a golden ale. He wondered what would happen if someone accidentally were to drink it later. That would be entertaining.

The relief was etched on Marco’s face, and Marco himself was feeling utter relief, and warmth. He could start to smell the urine now as he pissed, and the experience was actually starting to turn him on. It felt almost – orgasmic, and he remembered why peeing in his pants in the stream in army training had been exciting, but this was even better.

Eventually the flow stopped, and Leon started clapping in delight.

“You are a freak, you know,” Marco said to him teasingly. “Hope you enjoyed the show.” He put the glass back on top of the cabinet, and wiped his legs and any drops on the floor with some paper towels. Then he carefully took off his now yellow Calvins and was preparing to throw them in the trash when Leon said, “Oh no you don’t. Hang them on the radiator. I might want them later.”

Marco raised his eyebrows. “Fine,” he said.

Leon beckoned Marco to sit with him on the sofa. They were now both naked from the waist down, but Leon wrapped the blanket around their legs.

Then Leon laughed, for the first time that evening seeming properly relaxed. “This is going to take some explaining in your report,” he said.

Marco groaned.

 

Edited by kilianj74
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(Warning: the next part if this story deals with recovering from a traumatic incident).

As Leon stood at the podium, the words of his speech began to jumble in his mind. The glare of spotlights and cameras on him felt like lazer beams tracked on him, and he was suddenly afraid. He couldn’t remember why he was here, and what he was meant even to be speaking on – was it climate change, or transgender rights, or was he simply thanking party donors? He looked out at the sea of faces, at his mother’s concerned expression, at his father’s puzzlement, and then sideways to the wall where Marco stood, alert to any danger.

He felt the heat rise in his face, and he began to sweat, and the sweat felt damp on his shirt, then his armpits, then his suit trousers. His trousers felt sticky and damp, and he began to worry he was pissing himself. Then he found himself clutching his crotch, and the sound of the laughter growing.

He looked across at Marco who was looking worried and anxious, but wasn’t moving. Then Marco’s expression changed to one of pain and horror, and he started to slump to the ground. Leon cried out, shouting and screaming, and then he realised the podium he had been leading on wasn’t a podium at all any more. It was a large man, with tattoos on his burly arms, and he tried to let go of him but realised the man was lifting him of the ground and crushing him around his waist. Leon tried to kick his legs and scream, but he could do nothing of use, and the man squeezed more tightly on his bladder, as if juicing a lemon. Unable to hold back, piss poured out of Leon like a fire hose, soaking his boxers and suit trousers, and he felt embarrassed and humiliated as the warmth spread all around his legs, and all he could do was cry out… Marco!... MARCO!

It had been two weeks since the State of the Union address, and Marco was amazed and not a little relieved that after they had been delivered from the safe room, neither the Secret Service or the President had asked them too many questions. John had brought both him and Leon tracksuits with the white house emblem on, of the kind normally sold to tourists, and even matching boxer shorts, and they were able to dry and change before returning safely to the white house. Nothing had been said about the fact that the two young men were huddled together on the sofa half naked, with a blanket wrapped around their waists, while underpants and trousers hung to dry on the radiator, permeating the room with a faint smell of stale urine. John had even brought bags for Marco and Leon’s clothes so that there would be no embarrassment, and dressed in their matching tracksuits, Marco thought they did look rather sweet as a couple.

President Young also was not in the least concerned at how close Agent Garcia had been to the First Son. She was much more livid with how the rioters had managed to get into the reception venue in such large numbers, and especially how close they had gotten to her boy. In her mind, Marco was the hero of the hour, and when he and Leon had taken the cars back to the White House, Leon to return to the residence and Marco for his debrief, she had in a very unpresidential manner hugged him along with her son out of sheer relief. Esme Young didn’t seem too concerned either at her son’s change of clothes – if she had known he had wet himself it hadn’t bothered her in the least. Leon was her son first and only First Son second, if that made sense. Maternal instincts trumped political appearances, and she was bloody relieved he was okay.

Marco also had not had to give a blow by blow account of what went on in the safe room to the Secret Service either. As far as they were concerned, once he and Leon had gotten into the safe room, that was job done, and they asked him far more detailed questions about the events leading up to it, from Leon rushing away down the staircase to the toilets and Marco rescuing him from the man who had tried to take him captive, and then the loud bang which had caused them to fall to the ground before heading up to the penthouse. They were satisfied with Marco’s actions, and President Young, although increasing the number of protection agents for her Son from two to four, wanted Marco to be closer to him at all times. She didn’t care if they became friends and blurred the edges of the personal and professional, so long as Marco’s focus was a hundred percent on keeping alert at all times and keeping Leon safe. But she was also relieved that Leon had someone to talk to who had shared in the traumatic ordeal, because President Young realised that post traumatic stress was something that Leon would doubtless be facing.

Leon had a scheduled appointment to speak in Phoenix, Arizona at his former high school, on how young people could be lobbyists and activists in the forum of Climate Change. Marco knew Leon would be terrified giving the speech, as he wasn’t a natural public speaker, but the First Son had an excellent subject knowledge. He could memorize facts and figures instinctively, and presented good, practical arguments. Leon would make a damn good politician, Marco thought, if only he had an ounce of confidence and self belief. But somehow, somewhere that had been squashed out of Leon, and Marco could have punched whoever did that. It wasn’t the President, who thought the world of her son.

Now, at 3am Mountain Standard Time, Marco was stood outside of the bedroom in Leon’s hotel suite, patrolling the empty lounge and talking to Agent Kate Monroe, who was also with him, when he heard his name being screamed. Marco!!

Without a hesitation he burst into the hotel room, gun loaded, and jammed the light on. He scanned first the window, then the door to the ensuite bathroom, and then the bed for any sign of an intruder or a threat, but the room was completely empty, except for the Leon.

The first son had flung of his duvet, and was bunched up on the bed, shaking violently and crying out. As soon as Marco had assessed the threat was clear, he dashed over to the whimpering young man, who had buried his head into his hands.

“Leon?” Marco gently shook him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, it’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

But Leon merely mumbled and pulled away from Marco. Then the agent realised why. Leon’s pyjamas were soaking, and he was lying in a large, yellow puddle. In his fright, Leo had wet the bed.

Marco, undeterred, jumped on the bed next to him and flung his arms around the First Son, clutching him to himself tightly.

Edited by kilianj74
Geeky revision of hotel layout for future plot (see edit history)
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Leon was in a blur. He had barely come to the realisation that his bed was wet and flung the duvets off in disgust when Marco had burst into the room. The focused expression on Marco’s face as he brandished his gun and the rapid manner in which he had scanned the room for all signs of danger was incredibly sexy. My own personal James Bond, Leon thought. But his excitement had quickly been replaced with feelings of humiliation. Secret Service agents were not supposed to be nursemaids, and Leon’s violent screaming in his sleep, much to the First Son’s embarrassment, had caused Marco to respond as if there was a real threat in his apartment. Which there wasn’t, it had all been in his head.

As soon as Marco had secured the area, however, and assessed that the cries from Leon were the result of a nightmare, not an attacker, he had switched from bodyguard to comforter in a second. Diving onto the wet bed without a thought for his own clothing, Marco was acting as a friend would, even more than a friend, cuddling Leon close and seeking to calm him down.

“Shush, shush it’s okay,” Marco said. “It’s a nightmare, you’re safe. I’m here now Leon.”

Leon felt the tension begin to ease from his shoulders, but he still felt very hot and very wet, and was conscious of the strong smell of urine coming from him.

“I’m… so ashamed. What must you think of me, a grown adult pissing the bed and having a nightmare? I don’t deserve to be First Son. I’m just a pathetic baby…”

“Shush Leon.” Marco stopped his words with a delicate kiss on the lips, which was delicious. He tasted of coffee, which he had been drinking no doubt to stay alert and awake. Fortunately Leon liked coffee.

“I’m just so embarrassed.”

“Stop talking,” Marco said firmly but not in an unkind way. “You are a kind, intelligent, caring young man and a damn sexy one at that. Don’t look down on yourself.”

“You are the sexy one,” Leon protested.

Marco grinned. “Well yes I am sexy but this is about you. You don’t need to feel ashamed. You went through a traumatic situation, when you were in serious danger of kidnap or harm. That would cause post traumatic stress in most adult men and women.”

“But I wet the bed.”

“And? It’s not like I haven’t seen that in the barracks in army training.” Then he whispered to Leon, “I even wet the bed myself a couple of times when I was your age.”

Leon felt himself getting aroused by this. “You did? What happened?”

Marco blushed. “It was at the start of basic training. We had this drill sergeant who was a real bully. You know, like the kind you see in the films that shouts at you until you feel like you are about five again if you make a mistake like not folding your shirt neatly enough. He was called Sergeant Rossiter, but we used to call him the Rottweiler, not to his face of course. It was my first weeks away from my family, I was a bit homesick also. We had to drink a lot of water to keep healthy, and I must have overdone it before bedtime. Literally I pissed the bed a couple of times in the first few weeks, I was so scared.”

Leon stroked Marco’s back reassuringly and felt inwardly angry that he had been treated that way. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That sounds awful.”

Marco shrugged. “It got better. I made a damn good soldier and a first rate marksman, so no-one had a go at me about a wet bed. Even Rottweiler stopped having a go at me before too long. But it did make me think that the domestic service was more my line rather than going out into warzones. When I got the chance to switch to the Secret Service as a bodyguard I jumped at the chance. Never dreamt I would be covering someone like you though.”

Leon felt reassured, but still a little embarrassed. “So now you instead of taking out snipers in the Middle East you have the job of changing my sheets. Bit of a climbdown, surely.”

Leon felt Marco kiss him on the cheek again. “Not at all. If any attackers come near you rest assured I can and will take them down in a heartbeat. And protecting you is more than just a job. It’s a privilege. The most wonderful damn privilege, because you are the person I want to protect more than anyone?”

Leon’s heart was racing. “You really feel that about me?”

Marco laughed. “Of course. Do you think when I was on the detail for the fifty year old Governer of Missouri I would have rushed into his room and jumped on top of him.”

“You might,” Leon teased. “Governor Bryant is a silver fox, I wouldn’t mind a bit of him.”

Marco raised his eyebrows. “Really? That’s your type? You’re into older men?”

Leon licked his lips seductively. “I’m more into a certain latino older man who comes complete with a radio and earpiece.”

As if on cue, Marco’s earpiece crackled.

“Agent Garcia, is everything okay in there?” Leon could hear the voice of Agent Monroe. “How is Tiger?”

“Sorry Katie I should have kept you in the loop. Tiger’s fine, he just had a bad dream. It’s a sensitive situation. Can you give me some time to settle him? And check the perimeter is secure.”

“Copy that,”  said Agent Monroe. “I’ll check in with Agent Lee and Agent Jones also. All quiet here.”

“Thanks. Keep me updated,” Marco said.

Leon was grateful that Katie Monroe was kind and considerate enough to know when to give Marco some space. She was around 30 and the consummate professional, and had worked with Marco before. She must have been aware of how close Marco was to the First Son, but wasn’t one to interfere, so long as the job was being done well and the protectee was safe. Katie was of the philosophy that a protectee’s private life was their own business, and it was her duty to keep personal details and movements of the president’s son strictly confidential. She wasn’t going to gossip to the service, or even to the president, about matters that weren’t compromising the safety of Leon.

“So, it’s your job to settle me now?” teased Leon. “What am I, an angry puppy?”

“If you were a puppy you’d be an adorable one. But let’s not get into animal comparisons now, or my sex brain will take me in all kinds of different directions.”

Leon smirked. “I guess it’s not your job to change me then either?”

“My job is to keep you safe and warm,” Marco said. “And much as a passionate night of watersports would be fun, I think right now we should get you showered and into some dry clothing. I’ll throw out the sheets, and then when you’re ready we can sit in the lounge for a bit and call for the hotel staff to change the bed.”

Leon groaned. “I bet the staff of the Hilton Phoenix resort at Peak will thank me for that,” he said sarcastically. “I’m sure Barack Obama’s family didn’t give them that much trouble when he was president and stayed here.”

Marco hugged him. “Hush, don’t worry about it. It’s the staff’s job, you’re the president’s son, and it is isn’t like you did it deliberately. We pay them enough after all.”

“Still, that’s now two hotels I have peed myself in,” Leon said.

“Only one more than me then,” said Marco.

“Guess you’ll have to catch up with that sometime,” said Leon, with a wicked glint in his eyes, and he was sure he could see Marco getting a bit aroused at the thought.

Marco cleared his throat. “Yes… well… let’s just get you sorted out for now.”

“So professional,” lamented Leon.

Marco looked back at Leon, and it seemed he was thinking about something.

“I have one idea though,” he said. “Something that might help you relax and calm your nerves tomorrow afternoon once you have given your speech in the morning.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” asked Leon, intrigued.

“You do realise that this hotel is famous for its waterpark?”

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Leon hated speaking in public. He had felt like such an imposter standing at the front of the hall of the private school he had attended as a teenager. He felt that he had only been invited back to speech not because of his own accomplishments, but because he was riding on his mother’s coattails as the First Son. As he had walked past the dormitories, he thought of that day when he had wet himself in the toilets coming back from that long coach trip, and standing on that hall stage, all he could think of was how he had wet the bed that very morning. How humiliated it would be if his audience knew that. Or worse still, if he got nervous and wet himself on stage. He made sure to go to the loo just before he gave his big speech, and tried to convince himself he literally hadn’t got the pee in him for that eventuality to happen, given how much he had pissed out in his bed, how he had drunk hardly anything, and how he had just been, but his bladder had still twinged as he began.

His nerves had been calmed however, by the fact that this time he had visited the school, Marco was with him. Marco was standing by the stage throughout, checking for threats as usual but also smiling at him encouragingly. In the car on the way to the school Marco had even let him practise his speech about sustainability and lobbying for green energy. It was a topic Leon was passionate about, and once he had got into the swing of things, he actually found himself forgetting his nerves a little and beginning to make jokes, so it wasn’t all bad. Marco had said he had done well, and the audience was encouraging. Clearly with the president’s son being the speaker teachers and pupils alike had been drilled to ensure they were on their best behaviour.

Still, Leon was glad it was now over, and he had the prospect of the waterpark to look forwards to.  He had loved swimming ever since he was a boy, whether that be in swimming pools, lakes or the sea, and even though he was now 19 and adult he couldn’t wait to go on the waterslides, and the lazy river, which was, as the name suggested, a long gentle channel you could float down on a big rubber ring, spinning around and generally mucking about to your hearts content.

Leon had booked to go to the waterpark in the afternoon as soon as they got back, on Marco’s suggestion. It was a gorgeous sunny day, and Leon felt a little guilty that when he was there, the whole area would be closed off to other guests for security reasons. The advantage of that was that it would be calm and peaceful, and there would be no cues for the slides. The disadvantage was that he would be missing the sounds of fun and laughter of families enjoying the swimming pool. It reminded Marco of just how different it was for him, and how isolating and lonely life as the first son could be.

Marco was off duty now, and the shift for Leon’s protective detail was Agent Katie Monroe and Agent Cody Lee. They were stationed on the poolside, in their secret service gear, watching the exits and entrances. Leon felt almost sorry for them having to dress up in the heat, concealed weapons beneath their jackets. At least the trademark sunglasses were appropriate. There was also a lifeguard employed by the hotel, seated in his chair to keep a visible eye on Leon to ensure he didn’t drown or anything. No doubt the service would have cleared him in full.

Leon changed into his blue American Eagle swimming trunks, which had a pattern on them almost like a clouds. He checked himself out in the mirror, and decided that he could afford to lose a bit of weight around the middle. He was happier with his legs, which were smooth and didn’t have much hair. He walked to the showers near the entrance of the park, which you were supposed to use for hygiene before entering, and turned them on. The water soaked his dry trunks, and started running down his legs, and it reminded Leon of peeing himself. An image came immediately in Leon’s mind of Marco, standing and wetting his underpants in the safe room, the liquid bubbling through and dripping down his legs. Leon was tempted to pee in the shower in his trunks. He enjoyed peeing in showers, and pointing the shower head at his legs so it looked like he was peeing. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was pee and what was warm shower water – if it wasn’t for the internal sensations and release of desperation, and the slightly distinct yellow colour if he was dehydrated, the peeing would be virtually undetectable by others.

Leon had decided, however, that he would wait, because he wanted to pee in his trunks actually when he was in the waterpark. He smirked as he thought about how he had planned this. He had drunk far more tea and water than he usually would, and had a couple of beers at the hotel bar also after getting back from the school. He had been thinking about how Marco had described being in the army, and how the soldiers would pee their pants in the rivers and lakes. Leon hadn’t fully decided where he wanted to wet himself. He was tempted to do it in the lazy river, whilst floating on one of the rubber rings. No one would ever know. As a kid he would have been more wary, knowing that peeing in the pool was not allowed, and being afraid of the fictitious dye in swimming pools that was supposed to turn the water purple to indicate when someone was peeing. But he had learned that was a myth. Also, he didn’t feel too bad because this pool was technically an outdoor pool, and only he would for the present be swimming in it.

There was a reason Leon wanted to piss himself in the pool. It wasn’t just for convenience, and yes it was for pleasure and excitement, but also Leon wanted to feel relief. After the nightmares and rigmarole of his wetting the bed, and the tension of giving the speech that morning, Leon wanted to wet himself as a kind of therapy. In his mind, he felt that if he could let go of the adult pressures he was facing, and all the muscle tensions in his shoulders and stomach, by completely emptying himself, the release would be cathartic. He wouldn’t need to be the presentable, self conscious First Gentleman. He could just be carefree Leon, splashing about in the water and blasting his piss into his trunks for the sheer hell of it.

Leon decided to go first of all to the waterslide. In his excitement he raced up the steps to the top, his body starting to quiver with enjoyment and excitement, and also his cock twitching slightly at the thought it would be enjoying a nice taboo piss soon. He felt his stomach bulging and sloshing with liquid as he mounted the steps. He went up them at quite a pace, and he stubbed his toe on one of the steps in his eagerness. Leon had been conscious of his strong urge to pee and the deliberate effort he was making to hold it in, but the temporary pain in his toe caused him to lose focus on his bladder muscles for just a second, and he felt a spurt of warm pee shoot into his trunks and wet his leg. It was hotter than he had thought, compared to the temperature of the luke warm shower water. He got control of it quickly, and was in no danger of a full wetting, but it was enough to get him in the mood, a sort of precursor to the main event, and he felt himself blushing as he thought about what he was about to do.

The lifeguard could see Leon was about to enter the slide, and he nodded at him to say it was safe to go. Leon pulled himself into the tube, and as he started to go down the slide, he lifted his bum of the floor of the slide so he would be going down on his ankles and shoulders with minimum resistance. He often did this in order to go down the slide as fast as possible, but he had never been quite so desperate to pee when he usually did it, and his bladder felt tingly as muscles all around his pelvis were being used to keep his bum of the slide. He whooshed back and forth, in sheer pleasure and excitement, and then with a splash he was out of the end of the slide, and under the water.

He resurfaced, shaking his hair and brushing excess water from his eyes when - SPLASH!

A wave of water smashed over his head and he heard a soft chuckle behind him. Marco had shot out of the water slide directly behind him, and Leon, not expecting any company, had been slow to move out of the way.

In his shock, Leon had almost completely let go and pissed himself, but his brain (or his bladder) had processed Marco and decided he wasn’t a threat just in time.

“Sheesh! You nearly scared the piss out of me Marco”, Leon said. I wasn’t expecting anyone else in the waterpark.”

“Aw, only nearly?” said Marco with a wink. “I’ll have to try harder to make you piss yourself next time.”

Leon flushed, and a feeling of excitement went straight to his cock.

“Yes – well”. Leon’s eyes scanned Marco’s body. He didn’t know where to look at first, but he couldn’t resist peeking at the hair on Marco’s chest, his “happy trail” and his washboard abs which were even more pronounced now that Marco was dripping and shirtless. His eyes then looked downwards at Marco’s tight, lime green speedos which were becoming more and more visible as Marco climbed out of the slide’s exit pool.

“Actually,” Leon whispered with a blush, “I do feel like pissing myself. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Marco raised his eyebrows. “Kinky lad. Well, I do kind of need to go too, if you get my drift?”

Leon grinned.

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Marco looked at Leon directly, his dark eyes a mix of intrigue and desire.

“Come with me,” he commanded.

Leon climbed out of the water and followed Marco along a path without question. Without his uniform, radio and earpiece, with pool water dripping from those tight green speedos and running down those powerful legs, the twenty five year old looked more like a swimwear model than an agent. But he still radiated the same air of authority. Leon was used to obeying instructions from Marco for his own protection, and even though the agent was off duty, he didn’t hesitate now.

Marco led them to collect two large, rubber rings and then up to the head of the Lazy River. Agent Monroe had followed them just a short distant behind. Leon wondered why this was needed, since the place was practically deserted, and other agents would be guarding the entrances and exits. He supposed it was protocol, and his heart sank slightly as he thought that there was slim chance of him and Marco getting any privacy.

He asked Marco where they were going, and whether it was entirely necessary for Agent Monroe to follow. “Surely there is no danger? The place is deserted except for the lifeguard, and I’m sure you cleared him.”

Marco replied, “Actually, the greatest threat to you right now is me. They let me join you this afternoon so you could have some company, but I’m not on duty, and not following the distance protocols. If they sense any danger, if I so much as hold your head under water for a few seconds in the pool, Katie will take me out with a head shot. And she won’t miss.” He smirked.

“Holy crap! Are you for real? You’re not joking?” Leon was suddenly very anxious their actions might be misinterpreted.

Marco smirked. “I’m deadly serious. Don’t worry, Katie knows I’d do the same if she did that. And she’s a pro. She can tell if we’re just messing about or if I’m intending you real harm.”

Leon sighed, a little disappointed. “So we’ll be watched all the time? I was rather hoping we could go somewhere a bit – ahem – private.”

“Relax,” said Marco quietly. “I have a plan. When we are on the river we can take our time. It is the lazy river after all. The other agents will be able to see us, yes, but not hear us.”

Leon was suddenly grateful that Marco didn’t have a radio or earpiece.

They climbed into the river, and lay back in their rubber rings, drifting gently. The sun was shining down on them, and Leon was a mixture of wet and warm. As he lay on the float, Leon’s trunks were out of the the water, they were damp, but didn’t seem sodden as the sun was partially drying them. Leon was grateful that they weren’t moving too fast. Once they had rounded the first bend, Marco spoke.

“So, you say you wanted to piss yourself, yes?”

Leon flushed at the sound of Marco’s voice. “Er.. yes”, he stuttered. “I mean you must think me a freak. But the other day, when you were talking about soldiers peeing your underwear in the lake – I found it…” He mumbled. “I found it kinda hot to be honest.”

“I see,” said Marco in an amused voice. “And when I peed in my underpants – you found that hot too right?”

Leon spluttered. “Yes of course I did. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this.”

“It’s okay,” said Marco softly. His rubber ring had drifted towards Leons, and Leon felt Marco gently grasp hold of his arm, so the two of them would be floating together. “To be honest, I enjoyed peeing in my underpants too. It isn’t often, you know, as adults we get an excuse to do that.”

Leon sensed his heart pounding. “Oh my God, keep talking like that and you’re going to give me a boner. Which is seriously inappropriate. I can’t believe I’m babbling so much. I just just stop talking.”

Marco chuckled. Then he said seductively, “You need to piss now, don’t you. Are you going to piss yourself?”

Leon felt his face getting warm. “I want to,” he said excitedly. “But to be honest I really want you to pee your speedos too. I kind of feel things are a bit one sided otherwise, you know, if I am the only one wetting myself. If you were doing it too, I’d feel I wasn’t quite so much of a freak – not so isolated, if you get what I mean.”

“You’re not a freak,” Marco said, stroking Leon’s arm in reassurance. “Or if you are, we are both piss freaks. So that’s okay.”

Leon breathed out in relief. “Thanks, it is good to hear you say that.”         

Marco said, “Here’s what we are going to do. I don’t want you to pee it all out at once. Let’s just leak some to start, and then hold for a bit. We have all afternoon, after all. We can get some drinks and then we’ll have a big celebration wetting at the end”.

“Okay,” Leon said in a higher pitch then normal. “But I warn you I’m fairly desperate. What do you want us to do?” Leon was deliberate in saying the us to Marco. No way was Marco going to back out of this.”

“Let’s start by letting out a one second spurt. On my count, three, two, one, go!”

Leon pushed out, and at the same time he could feel Marco exhale and grip his arm more tightly. He felt a stream of pee trickle out of his penis, boiling hot against the cooler river water on his back. It dribbled over his balls, caressing them softly, and felt so bloody amazing. He almost didn’t want to stop, but clamped it off after a second as instructed. After doing so he realised his intensity to go to the toilet had increased tenfold.

Marco asked, “How was that? He stroked Leon’s arm back and forth. Did you piss in your trunks like I did? Did it feel warm, like it felt for me just now?”

Leon said breathlessly, “God Marco, keep talking to me like that and I’m diving on top of you and we’ll have a full blown scandal on our hands.”

“Sorry,” said Marco mischievously. “I just like having fun with you.”

Leon said honestly, “It was amazing. Just like you said. I mean I never thought I would really be so excited about peeing myself. Usually, you know, peeing my pants fills me with nerves, or humiliation, or embarrassment, like what happened this morning.”

Marco gently grasped Leon on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m here, and I want to make this fun for you. I don’t want you to be reminded of all the trauma you went through. We can talk about that later, if you like.”

Leon untensed his muscles. “Okay. But just so you know, I don’t know if I can carry on just leaking a bit. I feel like I’m going to explode in my pants, like a pee filled water balloon.”

“You can do this,” Marco encouraged him. “I tell you what. Let’s pee ourselves for ten seconds. Then we can save the rest for later. Deal?”

“Deal,” said Leon. “Tell me when.” He could already feel the pressure of the pee longing to flow down his penis and escape into his swimwear.

Marco counted down again, and this time, Leon let his muscles relax for a full ten seconds. He felt the liquid transfer from inside to outside, mingling with the dampness on his crotch and this time it felt like he was in the shower. The relief was ecstatic, and now the pee was bathing his balls and bottom. He felt heat as his trunks were completely soaked both front and back, the hot water replacing the cold beneath his bum and creating a “wet spot” in the water as he drifted.

After ten seconds he clamped himself off. Leon thought he wouldn’t have been able to stop peeing, but he could if he grabbed his crotch for a second. Then he remembered with embarrassment that the other agents might see this, and he wasn’t an exhibitionist, so moved his hand as soon as he was able.

“Aah,” sighed Marco next to him, in blissful relief. “That felt good.”

“Yeah,” Leon agreed. “I don’t feel so desperate now, I feel kind of satisfied, but still like I will need to pee later, you know after a couple of drinks or so.”

“Good,” said Marco.

“What do we do now?”

“We wait for a bit. After all, what could be better than drifting down a lazy river, in the glorious sunshine, on a rubber ring, with a bit of pee in our pants?”

Leon had to agree.

 

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As Marco floated down the lazy river, his hand grasping onto Leon, he wondered whether he was living a fantasy or reality.

He wasn’t sure what felt hotter – his face or his crotch, and he was very grateful that the large rubber ring meant that neither Leon nor the agents would see how hard he was getting in his tight speedos. The experience of peeing just a bit in his speedos reminded him of his soldier days as if they were yesterday.

Marco thought back to when he had been on manoeuvres with his regiment, wading through that river, and of wading down the river, and the cheeky face of Private Olly Hansen when they had waded down the river that day and Marco was desperate for the toilet. He remembered sheepishly asking Olly what to do about his predicament, and how his friend had whispered, “Just pee in your pants like I just did.” He thought about how sneaky he had felt, letting go in his army uniform, and how  Olly had simply slapped him on the back and asked if he felt relieved.

He could just picture Olly now, his swept back blond hair, and the all American hero look, on that other occasion which was seared into his memory, when they were all swimming in the lake in those beige, army issue boxer briefs. Marco had dived into the water to get his shoulders under early, so he didn’t get cold, but Olly had just waded in, keeping his briefs dry above the level of the water, which lapped around his thighs. Marco was the only one swimming close by, and Olly had turned to face him, teasingly splashing water on his crotch with his hands. Then Olly had looked at Marco with an air of naughtiness, and put a finger to his lips, the other hand in his hips, and he had peed, straight through his army underwear into the lake. It was the sexiest thing ever, and Marco had realised that day, not there was much doubt, that he was definitely gay. Then Olly had dived in the water, washing off the evidence, so that none of the others suspected a thing.

Olly and Marco had drifted apart after Marco joined the service and Olly was transferred to a peacekeeping force in the Middle East. They hadn’t kept in contact, and Marco said a quick prayer that Olly was still okay.

Olly had been Marco’s first real crush, and awoken in him feelings he had never felt before. Now, however, those feelings were resurfacing, stronger than ever, but there was a very different face in his mind, that of a beautiful young man with wet brown curls sticking across his forehead, and adoring eyes. Marco had heard that the bond between an agent and their protectee could grow strong in time, but the feelings he was developing for Leon Young were on another level. He had broken every rule in the agents’ rule book, in not only getting close to Leon, but allowing his fantasies to be worked out alongside the First Son. But Leon was not just an object of desire, he was someone Marco wanted to stick by forever, someone he could save and protect and hold in his arms, someone he would kiss and share a bed with, someone he would help grow strong and confident in the world. Marco wanted to be the person who kissed him on the forehead and cuddled him if he wet the bed; the person who would sit up all night as Leon read his speeches again and again for practice. He wanted to be his closest confidante and his protector in one, he wanted to eliminate any threat to Leon’s safety and happiness, and right now he didn’t care how many freaking rules he broke to do that.

And that terrified Marco. What if his feelings were discovered, and he caused a scandal that would take Leon away from him for ever? Or worse, what if he got so distracted by Leon that he made a fatal mistake and put him in danger? He would take a bullet for Leon, but what if for a moment – a split second – that beautiful face actually turned his head for a moment and he failed to spot the enemy until it was too late? Could he truly both protect and love Leon?

“You’re very quiet,” Leon said after a while. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking my urge to pee is growing stronger,” said Marco. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Peeing in his speedos for ten seconds before stopping had  ‘broken the seal’, and with the river water constantly lapping around him, trying to hold was fast becoming torturous.

“Let’s get a drink then,” Leon said. Marco grunted in agreement. They had reached the end of the lazy river now, so returned the rubber rings and climbed out of the water. There was a bar at the side of the waterpark, and Marco notified Katie that he and Leon were going to grab a drink.

Marco wasn’t on duty, so ordered a light beer, but Leon, more safety conscious and aware of alcohol and swimming not mixing got a fancy non-alcoholic mocktail with lots of berry juice in it. They took their drinks and sat down on sunbeds at the side of the waterpark, enjoying the sunshine and the freedom.

“That cocktail will go right through you, you realise,” Marco said to Leon.

“Not as much as that beer of yours,” Leon said.

“It’s okay, I can hold my drink. Longer than you I bet,” he teased.

Leon smiled. “You’re probably right. I don’t have the holding powers you do. I should make you do something, like fifty jumping jacks.”

Marco grumbled that there were other agents watching them, but agreed to fifty sit-ups on the sun lounger. After thirty, he realised just how much strain was being placed on his bladder. Out of the water, in cold damp speedos, his urge to piss had grown exponentially. He didn’t want to admit it to Leon, but he felt like he was about ten minutes away from flooding his speedos.

Leon, who seemed to be reading his mind, asked how desperate he was out of ten.

“What would ten out of ten be?” he asked.

“Uncontrollably wetting yourself,” said Leon happily.

“Okay. In that case I’d say 9?”

“I feel like I am at 9.5,” Leon said. “I think as soon as I finish this cocktail I’ll be pissing all over this sun lounger if I’m not careful. I really don’t have a big bladder. My cock is twinging already.”

Marco smirked. “In that case, drink up, and we’ll get back in the water soon. I don’t want you to embarrass yourself.”

“Give me five minutes.”

They finished their drinks, and Marco instructed Leon to get back into the pool with him. He had an idea. The waterpark had several impressive waterfalls, and he swam with Leon over to one of them. The other agents kept the two of them in visual range, but as they crossed the pool, they were further and further away.

“Where are we going?” asked Leon.

Marco knew he would probably get reprimanded later for this, but he said, “Somewhere private. Follow me.”

He swam towards the waterfall, then as they approached the torrent of water, he ducked his head under, swimming hard and then resurfacing behind the waterfall. There was enough of a gap between the rocky wall and the fast flowing water for Marco to be able to comfortably swim, but completely out of sight from everyone. It was not quite big enough to be a cave, but was a sort of enclave. Marco found when he grasped the rock face he was able to stand up, his chest above the water level but the rest of his body below.

For a second he was alone, and Marco panicked that Leon might not be confident enough of a swimmer to get through the waterfall. However, he did, and Leon’s head bobbed up above the surface next to him.

“Nice find!” Leon said excitedly. “How did you know this was here?”

“Instinct. In my line of work you are constantly scanning the environment for entrances and exits, escape routes, and potential hiding spots where enemies might be.”

“That’s a bit of a grim thought,” said Leon. “Still, I am grateful. Come here.”

Leon opened his arms, and grabbed Marco around the waist, pulling him close. In a second, and without warning, Leon’s lips were on his, kissing him passionately. Below the surface of the water, their legs intertwined.

“Stand on my feet”, Marco said breathlessly.

Leon did, and now they pressed their pelvises together, as if dancing a very intimate dance. Marco could feel that both he and Leon were semi hard, but as they were both desperate for the loo, not as hard as they would have been otherwise. Next to them, the roar of the water from the waterfall was deafening, and Marco didn’t think he would last longer than a few seconds.

“I can’t hold out much longer,” he said to Leon urgently. “What do you want me to do?”

Leon smiled. “Let’s do it together, so we can feel the warmth on each other.” He grabbed Marco’s bum, and they pulled even closer together.

“Now,” Marco said.

Marco felt the warmth around his crotch on his most private regions straight away, and the warm piss bubbling into his speedos. It felt like being in a jaccuzi. But Marco realised his own bladder muscles hadn’t completely relaxed yet.  This was Leon’s piss, not his own, that he was feeling. It seemed like he was both holding on and pissing himself at the same time.

Without warning, his own bladder let go, as a reflex action. It had obviously decided that he was pissing into his speedos already and there was no way Marco could resist. Hot piss blasted into the tight material, and he heard Leon moan and sigh with relief as they let go together. It was the most intimate thing Marco could imagine.

After a minute, he was totally empty, but the water felt so warm around him. He didn’t feel dirty in any way, he felt, strangely, cleansed. Leon was still gripping to him tightly, and both their bodies trembled with the excitement. Marco didn’t want to let go.

---

Unfortunately, they couldn’t stay there for ever, so after a while, Marco kissed Leon again and gripped his hand, then said they had to get back to the main pool. After all, eventually the other hotel guests would want a turn at the waterpark.

They swam back under the waterfall, and then went down the lazy river and water slides a few more times, before Leon and Marco headed for the changing rooms, with Agents Monroe and Lee in tow. Agent Lee went ahead to check the changing room was clear, and Leon followed. Marco was about to go with Leon when he felt a firm grasp on his shoulder.

“Marco!” It was Katie Monroe’s voice, but she sounded… angry??

“What the hell Marco? Why did you take Leon under the waterfall? We couldn’t see you there. Hell, Leon might not have even been safe swimming that long underwater.”

“He’s fine. He’s a good swimmer,” Marco said weakly, but he knew Katie was right.

Katie looked at him sternly. “Marco, this can’t go on. We have a job to do. You know the rules. I know how you feel about Leon, but this can’t happen.”

Marco looked back at Katie’s face. She seemed exasperated, but after a second her anger subsided and she looked more sorrowful.

Katie Monroe said, “You know I won’t report you this time. But this is the last favour I’m doing for you.”

Marco nodded. Katie was like a big sister to him, and unfortunately, she was right. Something would have to change. But he didn’t know quite what.

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  • 3 weeks later...

THREE MONTHS LATER...

 

With frustration, Leon threw his pee drenched boxers into the centre of his soaked bedsheets and bundled them all together. Carefully he tried to mop up the remaining pee which had formed a small yellow lake on the waterproof sheet, without getting any on his hands. How had he managed to piss so much? It wasn't like he had had much to drink, he thought, and he had been to the toillet before bed. But once again, the nightmares had prevailed, jolting him out of his sleep at the exact time as he had once again been peeing uncontrollably.

Leon didn't always remember his dreams, but these were becoming all too familiar. He was standing in the pool at the waterpark, with Marco, behind the waterfall. They were up to their waist in water, and Marco was smiling, leaning against the rockface. But then to his horror Marco's expression changed to one of shock, and the solid rock suddenly seemed to change to butter, and as Marco leant against it, he was disappearing, backwards into the rock, first his arms and legs and then his torso and face disapparing from view. Leon was crying out, and trying to grab hold of Marco, but his arms and legs wouldn't move, and the water around him got heavier and heavier. Then as Marco disappeared, Leon felt so afraid and alone, and suddenly there was a tightness around his waist and bladder, squeezing him harder and harder. Then he realised a pair of arms were squeezing him roughly, lifting him up in the air, and suddenly he wasn't in the waterpark any more, but in the hotel lobby, the day of the State of the Union, and he was being carried away. He looked down at himself, but he wasn't wearing his smart suit. He was wearing his swimming trunks, which were dripping wet, and they got wetter, and wetter, until he realised he was pissing in his trunks and couldn't stop and then...

And then a wet bed. Again.

Leon looked at the clock. It was four in the morning. Not a normal time for anyone to be having a shower, but he had come to realise that it did make him feel better to be wearing fresh pyjamas. He had gone to bed in just a pair of fairly old boxer briefs, but decided now that wearing pyjamas felt more cosy and comforting somehow, even if he looked a lot younger in them. Young by name, young by nature he thought. He ran his fingers to flatten his half damp hair, then slipped on a fluffy pair of slippers and gathered up the offending bundle of bedclothes. With any luck, he could get down the corridor to the laundry basket and replace his sheets without anyone noticing...

Of course, luck was never going to be on his side, and the idea of going anywhere as the First Son without being noticed was laughable. As soon as he exited his bedroom, Marco was there, wide awake and alert, and following his every step.

"Everything okay Mr Young?" Marco said. His voice was kind, but Leon hated the formality. He hated their distance, and his heart ached for the time they had been so close together, holding each other tight in the waterpark, sharing that sofa under a blanket in the safe room. But after they had been found out by Agent Monroe Marco had changed. He was so much more formal - professional - and Leon absolutely hated it. Why couldn't they go back to being friends? Or in Leon's perfect world, passionate lovers? Why did Leon have to spend so many days and nights just a few feet away from his wet dream fantasy and yet painfully out of reach?

"It's fine Marco. Just another accident. Don't make me go through all the messy details."

Marco opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and clamped it shut. The expression in his gorgeous dark eyes was one of sympathy, concern, or was it pity? Leon didn't like being pitied. It was so embarrassing.

"Of course sir." He followed Marco in silence down the corridor, and was passing the open door to the lounge when he heard... his mother.

"Darling is that you? Everything okay?"

Leon froze, clutching the bundle of bedsheets to his chest. He wondered about pretending not to hear his mum and making a dash for the laundry room, or even just dumping the bundle on the ground for now, but he couldn't. Esme Young's voice had been commanding even when she had just been his mother, but now she was the President of the USA, it was impossible to ignore, and Leon found himself shuffling into the room with the bedclothes as a barrier.

"It's fine. This isn't..." He stopped. Who was he trying to kid? "This is exactly what it looks like. I wet the bed and I am going to put it in the laundry. Don't worry, I had a shower and cleaned up, and I'll put the bedsheets on."

"Don't worry. Come over here darling." His mother looked at him sympathetically, and Leon wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't with his mum's doe eyes looking at him like that. How she could switch between his devoted mum and Commander in Chief with armies at her command and the nuclear codes in ready reach was a marvel to Leon.

"Marco, can you take Leon's laundry and remake his bed for him? There are spare sheets in the laundry room - top shelf."

"Of course Maam."

Marco left without question, and Leon hesitantly sat down on the sofa next to his mum, who was sitting in an armchair, scribbling notes into a binder.

"Mum, you do realise Marco isn't my butler? He's a secret service agent. They aren't meant to do laundry."

President Young waved her arm dismissively. "I'm sure he knows how to make a bed Leon. He was trained in the military, you remember."

"Yes but..." Leon felt the heat rising in his face. "It's embarrassing. I've just had my twentieth birthday. I'm the first gentleman. I shouldn't be wetting the bed."

Esme Young frowned. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You can't control it, and if anything it's my fault." She shuddered. "How I could have let that horrible mob get so close to my firstborn, whilst I was distracted with some little work trifle - I'll never forgive myself."

Leon snorted. "You were delivering the State of the Union address mother. It's hardly a "little work trifle."

"Yes, but everything is important when you are the President. But nothing is as important as you "

"The 77 million who voted for you would probably disagree", laughed Leon. "Anyway, what on earth are you doing up and talking to me at 4 in the morning? Shouldn't you be asleep? Don't you have a fairly important country to run and morning briefings in a few hours?

Esme waved her hand again. "We are talking about you. As I was about to say, you went through a traumatic ordeal, so it isn't surprising your bedwetting has resumed. You should talk to your therapist about it, that might help. And we could always consider night protection for you in the meantime. It might help - after all this is the fifth time this month now, yes?"

"The fourth", Leon said crossly, then realised how pathetic he was being for making the distinction. "I don't need protection. I just need..."

He broke off. What did he need? Marco, that was what he needed. Not that Marco was on the menu.

"I think you need a holiday. I can see your frown lines, and you have too handsome a face to be getting frown lines."

"A holiday? At the start of November?" Leon said incredulously.

Esme sighed. "You're miserable darling. I can see it. You haven't been yourself. I am prescribing a holiday. Skiing - in Austria. You can bring a friend also. I don't like to see you alone. Have a think about it."

Immediately, Leon could picture only one person whom he wanted to ski with. A certain dark handsome latino man, racing alondside him, or drifting down the gentle slopes backwards, gazing into his eyes as the older man steered... But Leon wasn't sure that he was exactly the friend his mother had in mind.

Still, it was perfectly possible... 

 

  

 

 

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Standing in the First Son's bedroom, Marco felt decidedly out of place. He had to remind himself that this was Leon's room, and there was something extraorinarily intimate about making Leon's bed for him, which he did with diligence and care. Making beds was not in his job description at all as a secret service agent, but occasionally protectees did make bizarre requests and who was he, after all to refuse a presidential order.

After completing the "hospital corners" so that Leon's newly pressed sheets fit neatly on top of the waterproof matress, Marco thought about the distress Leon must be going through, not to mention the embarrassment of having to  face his mother. President Young was kind, but no adult son should have to endure the awkwardness of discussing a bedwetting issue with their parents. The nightmares and nightly incidents had become much more regular and every time Leon got distressed Marco longed to rush in and hold him tight. But he had tried to keep his professional distance since he and Leon had been discovered in the waterpark. Katie hadn't told anyone, but they had agreed to be extra careful, with Marco now referring to Leon formally as Mr Young, and largely covering the night shift of First Son's protction, which wasn't half as exciting as his fevered imagination made it when he was in his own bed at night.

It was torture to Marco that he was supposed to stay a few metres apart from Leon, and he tried to remind himself was that the real act of love was that he would take a bullet for the First Son if necessary, but that just felt to him like his job description. Standing around not talking, that was all he seemed to be doing these days, and it was making him miserable. And it was making Leon miserable too, and he hated it.

On the matter of standing around, Marco realised that he had been on his shift for ages and had a steadily growing urge to pee. He wondered if his bladder holding capactity had lessened since his antics with Leon in the swimming pool, or if giving himself permission to wet then and in the safe room all those months ago had subconsciously eroded a lifetime of reinforcement that it was not okay to pee himself. Perhaps it was that he had just been dealing with the smell of Leon's urine soaked bedsheets - that couldn't have helped. Or maybe it was just thinking about Leon himself. Whenever he so much looked at that gorgeous face these days, even frowned with worries, it filled Marco's head with a mush of desires - confused sexual and pee related thoughts all blended together. Seeing Leon just now in his smart pyjamas was adorably cute.

Reality suddenly screamed back to Marco that he did need to use the toilet when he next got a chance, and he wondered if now might be the opportunity. It wasn't professional, but he could use a staff toilet if Leon was likely to be talking to his mum for a while. But Marco knew Esme Young's conversations were likely to be brief and to the point, even with her only two children, and he prevaricated. Before he knew it, Leon was banging back into the room again. 

The First Son was breathless and dived onto the newly made bed heavily before he had even had a chance to admire Marco's handiwork. But he didn't seem to upset, which surprised Marco.

"Everything Okay, Mr Young?"

Leon winced at the formal adress. "You can call me Leon you know. You aren't on the radio."

"Of course Leon," said Marco, feeling slightly better.

Leon's face was pink, and he was averting his eyes. Clearly he had something to say to Marco, and Marco longed to ask him  to blurt it out, but it wasn't his place to speak unless spoken too. Fortunately, Leon broke the silence.

"Marco - I spoke to my mum and she has organised for me to go on a skiing holiday in Austria with a friend."

"That's fine, I'm sure we can organise protection for you and your friend."

Leon paused for a moment. Then said quietly, "Actually, I want you to be the friend. I really like you, Marco."

"Oh!". Marco's heart soared. He had thought that Leon had gone off him - since the waterpark incident. "But what did the President say?"

Leon sighed. "She's not sure it was a good idea, but seeing how happy I was about it she's agreed. But only if my protection detail is expanded so that you're not on duty. Agent Monroe will take charge of my protection. And you'll need to take the week as leave."

"That's great news! Although..." Marco faltered. "I guess it is going to complicate things. I'm not sure what Katie and the others are going to think." 

The idea of Katie witnessing another romantic moment between him and Leon, especially after her response to the Water Park incident wasn't one he was relishing. But at least if the President was on board, and they were careful, that opened opportunities for some kinds of fun. Though before his imagination ran too wild, he had to remember that bedding her only son probably wasn't on Esme Young's approved list of activities.

Leon looked up, a happy smile on his face. "We'll make it work." Then whispering he said, "and maybe we can have fun in our snowsuits too. I've heard even if you pee yourself in them a bit you can get away with it."

Marco felt the heat going to his face, and knew he was turning bright red. "Actually, I do need to go quite badly now. This conversation isn't helping in that regard, and it's a few more minutes until I get off my shift."

Leon smirked. "A few minutes, hey?"

Then he looked up at Marco with a gleam in his eye, which Marco knew meant he was plotting something.

The Leon said, "I've heard if you let a little bit out it can ease the pressure. Why don't you do that?"

Marco was horrified. Was Leon wanting him to piss himself, right here in his uniform? Even processing that thought, Marco felt blood rushing to his dick, which was quivering slightly, as if to nod in agreement. But his rational brain took over.

"What? You mean piss in my pants?"

Leon licked his lips. "Not totally, of course. Just a little bit."

Marco hesitated, but Leon's eyes were pleading, and he couldn't resist that expression.

"Do it for me," Leon asked. "I've felt so freakish recently with waking up with all these wet beds and pee in my undies, and it would make me feel a little better if I wasn't the ony one with damp undies. Even if you just let go a little bit.

Marco sighed, but he had already resigned himself to the fact he was going to do it. "Okay."

Fortunately for Marco, he knew he wasn't at a stage of desperation where if he peed a little he would be unable to stop. He had enough control, and there was something very sexy about what Leon was asking, in his mind at least. His dick was hardening slightly, but hopefully that wouldn't be a problem. 

Marco imagined he was stood at a urinal, widening his stance slightly, and resisting the urge to undo the zip on his suit trousers. His bladder muscles locked up, but he tried to relax and push the pee out to the end of his dick and then out, and a very short but sharp burst of wetness blasted into his black boxer briefs. In a blind panic he realised this was not lessening his need to go at all, far from it, but he grabbed his crotch firmly with both hands and clamped it off firmly. He was hesitant to remove his hand, thinking he might start peeing himself again, but eventually let go. His desperation seemed to subside, even if not very much.

"Wow you actually did it." Leon looked at him awestruck.

"I am a man of my word. But it really doesn't help at all to take the pressure off. That's a myth, I think."

"Let me see it." Leon stood up and came closer, and Marco cringed as he touched the visibly damp circle of wetness that was now on his black trousers. It was the size of a tennis ball - big enough to see if you were looking for it, but not noticable otherwise. Then, wordlessly, Leon unzipped Marco's flies and squeezed him in his wet black boxer briefs for a second. He withdrew his hand, zipped Marco up again, and to Marco's embarrasment, Leon sniffed and licked his the pee of his hand seductictively.

"I'm not the only one with damp undies this evening now," Leon said happily.

"Satisfied?"

Leon nodded. "I feel much calmer now." Then he leaned in to Marco and wrapped his arms around him. This time, protocol be damned, Marco did not stop him.

 

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  • 2 weeks later...

The views from Lech-Zurs were breathtaking. Whiteness blanketed the ground for miles like icing on a Christmas cake.  Interspersed were the villages; wooden houses which looked like they had been made out of gingerbread, their snow topped roofs iced, and churches with large domes that reminded Leon of iced gems also. Everything was so peaceful, and the skiing area was vast, so people were well spaced out. Leon felt safer and more anonymous than he had been for a long while. His protection detail had made certain provisions for his safety - ensuring he and Marcus had carriages to themselves on trains and holding the public back when they used the ski lifts, but this hardly seemed to be a major disruption.

Leon was a fair skier, but not an adrenaline junkie. He prefered the gentler slopes around Oberlech to the black runs, and the peacefulness of drifting lazily from side to side, the wind and the sun on his face. Marco was clearly an expert skier. He could have whizzed down the slopes and left Leon miles behind, but of course he was not going to do that. Even though he was off duty, his protective instinct meant he would always stay close to Leon, but amused himself by skiing backwards down the slope or running circles around Leon just for fun. 

"How did you get so good at skiing?" Leon asked. "Is it a secret service training thing to be be James Bond at everything?"

Marco chuckled. "I do happen to like Martinis. But the dirty Martini, that looks like it has pissed itself."

Leon snorted. "Trust you to think of that. But seriously, when did you learn to ski?"

"Army cadets. And no, not all secret service agents are good at skiing. Katie is quite grateful actually I am out here with you on the slopes keeping an eye on you - she does her best but in an emergency isn't as fast if something went wrong. But don't worry, I'll stop you before you ski off the edge of a mountain."

Leon tried to punch Marco on the shoulder, but he was too quick and he nearly overbalanced. "Glad you've got confidence in me.  I'm not that bad you know, just because I won't be competing in the olympics."

"You ski like my grandpa."

"Was he an olympic champion then?" Leon quipped.

"No. He was like you, always dawdling around to smell the flowers or gaze at the scenery."

Leon smiled. It was nice to talk to Marco as a friend would, finding out about his family, and being teased by him. Back at the White House, the secret agents were trained to not speak unless spoken to, and to adress their protectees formally. Leon was glad that Marco had broken that rule. He couldn't bear to be addressed as Mr Young again.

"So, got any tips for me?" Leon asked.

"If the snow looks yellow, don't eat it" winked Marco.

"I know that you buffoon. I meant about my skiing technique."

"You're doing well. Just relax your body a bit more, you seem a bit stiff. Like you are concentrating too hard."

Leon was getting a little tense, but that was because his bladder was telling him it was time for a toilet break. He and Marco had been on the slopes all morning, and because it was on the colder side, he had thermals and several layers on. It seemed just such a faff to have to take everything off and find a toilet, so he hadn't bothered.

"It's because all this talk of piss is making me want to go," Leon said to Marco. "I haven't been since we left the chalet, and I drunk a fair bit of water before then."

"Okay. You want to head back after this run? We can go get some lunch if you want. We're nearly back at the chair lift, and so we can take up back up then catch a train to the chalet? Or find a toilet at the top?"

"I guess," Leon said half heartedly. "It's a shame really - I'm getting into my stride now. I wanted to do a couple more runs before a break, but my small bladder seems to have other ideas."

"Well.. there is another option," Marco said in a hushed tone. 

Leon grinned. "I think I know where this is going, but go on."

Marco's face went red, and Leon knew it wasn't just from the icy wind. "We could just pee in our snowsuits. I mean, there are so many layers it's not like anyone would notice - even if our snowpants look visbly wet people will just think we fell over. And it might be fun."

Leon felt his cock twitching at the thought. Was Marco serious? He wanted to wet himself in public? They had only ever wet in private before - this was taking things to the next level. But perhaps Marco was right. Perhaps they wouldn't be seen?

"Are you sure it won't be visible?" Leon asked.

Marco skiied sideways, and came to a halt on the slope, Leon following suit. He stood, legs apart in a wide stance, but not moving. For a second Leon was confused, as Marco stood like a statue. Then Marco said, "You tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"If it's visible."

Leon stared at Marco, then it dawned on him. Marco was peeing in his snowsuit. He looked down at the crotch of Marco's black snowpants, and he couldn't see anything, except the bulge of Marco's package. But he realised he could hear a rush of liquid, the sound of a tap being turned on, and from Marco's grin, he knew the agent must be peeing forcibly into his pants.

"What's it like?" Leon asked with excitement.

"So good," said Marco. "Very satisfying, and a big relief. But bloody hot."

"Wow." Leon was in awe. "You really can't see much, but I guess your undies and socks are going to be pretty yellow when you do change."

"Are you going to try it?" Marco asked, a note of hope in his voice. "I know you like peeing your pants like me, just as we did in the water park."

Leon, however, was less convinced. "I'm not sure. If I do I don't want my legs to get cold after the piss cools down. And I still feel on display. I will have to think hard about it."

"Okay. Lets just catch the lift. You don't have to decide anything until we get back to the top."

They continued their run, and were nearly at the end where the chair lift was waiting. Agent Monroe was already there, ushering the public skiers back as Leon and Marco skied to the front of the line. Leon felt guilty at skipping the queue, but the other skiers didn't seem too cross - in fact they were getting their cameras out and taking snaps of Leon and Marco. Agent Monroe glared at the photographers, but they seemed to be tourists rather than paparazzi and Leon smiled good naturedly for the pictures as he skiied past. Marco was also photographed, and Leon smiled to himself as he thought about the piss in Marco's pants and how he would feel being photographed in such a condition. But Marco seemed unfazed and relaxed, and Leon thought if there were damp patches on Marco's trousers they wouldn't be visible in the photos.

As they got to the chair lift, Leon and Marco positioned themselves in front of the chair and soon they were seated and lifted away, the safety bar pressing down on their crotches and legs dangling in the air. Leon felt a bit more nervous in the air than on the slope. He wasn't too keen on heights, and he gripped the bar tightly and looked at Marco for reassurance. He tried to look out at the mountain views not down at the chasms and drops below, and was just starting to relax and enjoy the sights when there was a grinding, jarring sound of machinery, and the chair lift jolted to a halt.

Suspended in the air on a large metal seat, with his friend, protector and crush beside him, and a fairly large drop to the snow down below him, Leon realised that he was absolutely about to pee in his pants.

 

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Guest Buckaroo

This new scene is amazing! I love how Marco is finally taking the initiative in terms of who is wetting themselves so far. Can’t wait to read more

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(Warning: R rated content ahead)

Marco was used to heights. He had bailed out of helicopters, clambered up rock faces and scaled precarious buildings in his army days. Stuck in a chair lift twenty feet or so above a snowy mountain did not rank close to the situations of real fear he had faced. Plus his job was to take bullets for the president's son, so he was prepared for high risk and danger. However, on this occasion he was bothered, not for himself, but for the scared young man sat next to him on the chairlift. Leon was visibly shaking, and from his heavy breathing he seemed to be on the verge of full blown panic.

Fortunately the chair lift wasn't one with a large pole separating the chairs, so Marco instinctively shuffled closer to Leon and wrapped his arm round him, pulling him close.

"Shh. It's okay," he said. "Probably just a technical fault. They have been stopping and starting this lift more than usal for our benefit - perhaps that's the problem. Or one of the agents has had problems with the public at the top or bottom of the lift. I'm sure we'll be moving soon."

Leon felt stiff in Marco's arms, so Marco tried to ease the tension by gently massaging the First Son's shoulders. After a while, Leon's breathing started to calm down a bit, and Marco realised just how adorable the boy he was cuddling was, and how much he was falling in love with him. He felt his dick stiffen in his thermal underwear, which were sodden through with piss, his wet balls still massaged in liquid, which didn't seem to be wanting to escape outside his snowpants any time soon. It seemed that the waterproofing stopped his pee getting out of his pants as easily as it would stop snow and rain getting through the other way.

It made Marco insatiably horny, and he was dying to rub his cock through his pants, or even to feel inside them and rub the wet cloth of his thermals against his cock until he came in his pants. With all the liquid down there, a little bit of extra jizz wouldn't make a difference, surely...

Leon shuddered again, and Marco snapped out of it. His priority had to be protecting the younger man, keeping him safe, making him feel calm, comfortable and loved. That was his job. Hell, it wasn't his job, it was his desire, his reason for being right now. There was nothing in secret service manuals about cuddling your protectee and kissing them senseless until they felt complteley at peace. But if that was what it took with Leon he wouldn't hesitate.

"How long -  wwwill we be up here?" Leon's voice was faint and  stuttering, and Marco wanted to tell him it would be just fine, and they would get moving in a couple of minutes. Which was probably true, but he knew from experience that they could be stuck for quite a bit longer, especially if the mechanics had broken down.

"I don't know," Marco said truthfully. "But don't worry, you are safe up here. Just imagine we are sitting on a bench admiring a beautiful view of the mountains, and in no hurry to go anywhere."

"I... I'm scared," Leon said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Marco rubbed his back reassuringly. "Don't worry. Lot's of people are scared of heights. But I'm here with you, and you aren't going to fall."

"It's not that I'm scared of", Leon said. "I'm scared of..." He broke off and his eyes darted from the ground, to the empty chairlifts in front and behind. Then Leon buried his face into Marco's jacket and pressed against him tightly.

Marco looked around. There was no-one in sight, except for a few skiers coming down one of the runs a little way away from the lift. Because of protocol, there was no one on the chair lift in front for at least eight seats, and no one behind for at similar amount. 

"What are you scared of?" Marco asked softly. "Don't worry, you can tell me anything. Are you scared of photographers? Because there aren't any close by, and even if they had long lenses they would only be able to see the two of us up in the air on a chair lift. Or are you afraid because you need to pee? If so, just go ahead and pee your pants like I did."

Leon relaxed a bit, but there was still something bothering him. He looked up at Marco, who realised Leon's big eyes were glistening with tears. "I.. I'm not scared of that. I'm ... scared of being shot."

----

As soon as Marco heard those words, he felt acid in his stomach. Leon was scared of being shot? It was his job to protect Leon, to keep him safe from all kinds of dangers. It was his job to stop Leon being harmed in any way, so that Leon wouldn't feel scared. (Well - technically right now it was Katie's job to protect Leon, but that was besides the point).

He had forgotten due to his sexy thoughts just how traumatised Leon still was following the horrible attempt at a kidnapping that had taken place that night of the State of the Union. How Leon had been carried away, just for a few seconds, but long enough. How the nightmares had started for Leon, and the wet beds, and the chilling cries of the First Son at night. Here they were on a skiing holiday, President Young's attempt for her Son to have a relaxing, fun time, away from all those kind of anxieties and stresses, but clearly they were still bothering him.

"How long has this been bothering you?" Marco asked. "Have you been worried this entire time?"

"No, not all the time. Actually, when I was on the slopes I felt really safe, peaceful, normal. You were close by and I wasn't afraid. But here in this chair lift, suspended up in the air not moving, I feel like I am a prime target for a sniper rifle. Like a clay pigeon or something. And you can't dive in and push me out of the way. I feel like someone will just poke a gun out of the trees and .. bang that will be that."

"Holy crap!" Marco was horrified. "I had no idea you were worried about these things. Don't be scared, the service will have cordoned off a perimeter around this entire area. And we drafted a few extras, plain clothed agents on skis, in addition to Katie and Cody and the rest of your detail to keep an eye on the slopes. You are the president's son Leon, we aren't going to let anything happen to you."

Leon snuggled closer. "That's.. so good to hear."

Marco kissed him sweetly on the mouth. "I'll keep you safe, don't worry."

After that, Leon relaxed, but Marco noticed he was still holding his crotch.

"Need to pee badly huh?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah," sighed Leon. "Badly enough. But I'm worried if I pee it might drip down my legs and right off the seat of this chairlift onto the ground."

"And form a patch of yellow snow," laughed Marco. "Which no-one will be eating. Not that I would recommend eating white snow either, for that matter. It's not ice cream."

Leon started to laugh, which was a good sign.

"How did it feel, to pee your snowsuit?" he asked hungrily.

"Hotter than you think. And pretty damn horny to be honest. And you don't need to worry about it dripping down, most of it I can still feel it in my pants and boots," he said breathily.

"Really?". Leon sounded intregued. "That's real hot. Can I have a feel?"

Marco smirked. "Yeah."

It was difficult, with all the layers that he was wearing, but Leon's hand was surprisingly adept at reaching through the layers of material and managed to find a way down the front of Marco's snow pants. He had taken a glove off, and Marco felt Leon squeezing the material of his thermals, wringing them out as if they were a dishcloth, and letting a fresh stream of liquid caress Marco's cock and balls. In an instant Marco was hard as a rock, and Leon gripped his cock now through the material, gently rubbing him up and down. 

"Wow, you are soaked!" Leon sounded so excited to say it. "You want me to keep going?"

"Mmhmmh". Marco could barely form words now. Leon moved his hand up and down his shaft, the wet texture of the material combining and the grip of Leon's hand squeezing, the warmth of the hot piss and Leon's warm hand, now caressing his balls and.. that was enough. He shuddered, and shot copious amounts of semen into his thermals, mingling with the hot piss.

"That was f*ing awesome!" Leon's words echoed Marco's exact thoughts. The first son grinned wickedly and withdrew his hand, then licked off the cum and piss before giving Marco a wink and replacing it in his glove. Then he joked, "I really hope there aren't any long range cameras here. Paparazzi would have a field day."

"I think you're safe." Marco hugged Leon tightly and kissed him again. "But now, what are we going to do about you needing to pee?"

 

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