Roger Taylor Smut

watersports

I apologize in advance...

"Here, drink up, baby." You said, giving Roger his sixth consecutive glass of water in that hour.

He groaned and took it from you, drinking its contents entirely. "I don't want anymore." He murmured quietly once he was done.

"That's okay, you just gotta hold it for me now." You said. Roger bit his lip and whimpered. "C'mon, let's go lay down on the couch." You held out your hand and once he grabbed onto it, you led him into the living room.

You lay down in the middle of the couch, Roger on top of you with his head on your chest and his legs on either side of yours.

Half an hour has passed with the two of you just sitting in silence, you thought Roger was asleep until he suddenly shot up from your chest.

"I need to pee." He said.

"Shh, come lie back down," You said and guided his head back to your chest.

Another hour went by, and at this point, Roger was squirming in your lap with the urge to use the washroom.

"Just a little longer, baby." You assured him.

At the three-and-a-half-hour mark, Roger was now sitting up in your lap, squirming and whimpering with a blush high on his cheeks.

"Y/N, please! I really need to go...it hurts."

"I think you can hold it a little bit longer." You said.

Roger shook his head. You couldn't help but think how cute he looked with his oversized shirt covering his light blue boxers.

"Please, I really need to go." Roger whimpered.

"I think you can hold it a little longer, can't you, sweetheart?" You asked, skimming your hand under his shirt to rest lightly on his stomach. "For me?"

Roger squirmed around a little bit more, "I don't know." He whispered. "I really need to- oh!" He gasped, tensing his legs around your thigh and shoving his hand between his legs.

"Did you leak, baby boy?" You asked.

Roger squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, "A little."

"Let me see," You said.

Roger worries his lower lip between his teeth, looking at you apprehensively, but after a moment he gives a slight nod and takes his hand away. You take the hem of his t-shirt between your fingers and gingerly lift it so you can see. The outline of Roger's cock through his tight boxer briefs is almost obscene, and there's a tiny spot near the head that's a slightly darker shade of blue than the rest, making you feel a little dizzy.

"Oh, baby. You really do need to go, don't you?" You say, breathy, unable to tear your eyes away. As you continue watching, Roger whines softly and the wet spot gets a little bigger.

"Yes," Roger says, softly.

With your hand still resting lightly over Roger's tummy, you slightly put more pressure on his bladder, not enough for him to completely lose it, but enough for him to feel and fully acknowledge his need.

"Tell me how bad you need to go," You instructed.

"I-I, it aches...I feel so full. I really need to go." His cheeks are pink as he carefully avoids eye contact with you, looking instead at where your hand rests softly against his tummy. "I think I'm gonna have an accident." He admits shyly.

Your breath catches, that phrase driving you wild. The idea that it could be genuinely unintentional has always been a thing for you. The thought that maybe Roger would actually not make it to the washroom in time, that he would have no choice but to pee himself right there, makes you hot all over.