Omorashi Kink - One Direction One Shots

Twitcams and Tinkle Times

"Larry Stylinson!" Josh Devine smiled cheerfully calling for Harry and Louis, running into the two boys' room.
The boy stopped dead in his tracks halfway though, and took in the scene. Louis.. was feeding Harry?
Well; letting him drink- no, wait-- forcing him to drink, it seemed. Harry's green eyes were fear filled; yet Harry seemed to like it.
Thinking of it, Louis had been filling Harry up with drink an awful lot today.. Josh couldn't for the life of him, figure out why.
Harry and Louis stopped; Louis with a teasing remark tickling his tongue, Harry with the cool droplets of H20 dribbling down his chin. They gazed at Josh.
"Umm, it's about time you started a twitcam." Josh backed out with a smile.
They ignored Josh.
Harry sucked on the bottle rim obediently as Louis tipped it up, Styles' lips purple, full of moisture, gulp after gulp of water swimming through his system. Though scared, Harry didn't complain; he loved the warm feeling the water gave his bladder. Louis loved the desperation that entailed.

"I think Josh is right." Louis smiled. "We should do a twitcam later on."
He gently lifted the bottle from Harry's mouth and studied it. "And, empty. Well done."
Almost immediately Louis was reaching for more. "Dance rehearsals first." He was teasing. "Need to stay hydrated."
Harry nodded. He whined when he saw more liquid. His eyes flickered; for one weak second, to the loo.
"Not now." Louis said, in a prompting icy voice. He brushed liquid from Harry's mouth, Harry eagerly gulped, mouth suddenly dry. Finding himself missing the liquid.
"Later." He paused.
Harry hated *the* pauses. They were bad.
"If you do well." Louis finished, nodding.
Harry sagged. He smiled.

Of course; Harry couldn't go to the toilet. Not at the rehearsals. That's called 'breaking rules'
And Louis abhors broken rules.
So; for the duration of the rehearsal, as Harry felt the stinging of a filling bladder, as Harry began to nervously fidget.. Louis smiled. The plan, was slowly working.
The bladder was slowly filling. Of course, as noted, it was filling slowly which meant it was fine for more liquid by all means.
Louis had Harry so obedient, that the curly boy's mouth dropped open at the sight of an icy Louis glare and some sweet liquid.
And luckily, by the end of that two hour rehearsal, Harry was already looking full of discomfort - or just plain full - as his feet trembled, concentration slipped; he was falling over his own two feet.

So, with all that liquid inside of him, it's no surprise that Harry's been getting desperate all day. Louis Tomlinson can tell, he can really tell. Harry hasn't outright said anything at all, but Lou can still tell, and he'll show how.
Right now, he and Harry are sitting on Lou's bed, sheets crumpled. Once again Lou has a no sex rule in place no sex if Harry's not pissed himself like he should, and Harry fucking HATES it.
Lou doesn't. Lou can wank. Harry can too; but Harry hates it sometimes. It's only because he has to work himself up for Louis, for that rule to be lifted; he has to really work, until Louis is satisfied and Harry's legs are trembling, tears leaking and he's starting to beg, as it hurts so badly and Harry's not sure whether he wants to piss and relieve the pain or piss and finally let that urine out.
Oh, how Louis loves his Harry when he begs like that, though. The best part is what he's begging for - Harry's begging to have his relief in his jeans, soak them with his urine.
Louis loves that.
He can fuck Harry to oblivion as soon as he hears Harry start to beg, because he knows what's coming next.
Harry loves that.

So, anyway. Right now, Louis and Harry are on Lou's bed, giving the fans a well-deserved Twitcam.
Louis is pretending to be very interested as he sets the Twitcam up, but oh god he isn't. All he can think about is tonight. Harry is desperate. Oh he knows Harry is desperate, all that liquid wasn't given to him for nothing, and Louis didn't make sure Harry's drunken every last job for no reason either. Harry is being so good, so so good. The better he does, the harder he'll be fucked.
And Harry's showing the most delicious subtle signs of desperation, little wiggles on the bed, and shifts, as if he can't get comfortable. Unsure little moves of his hands toward his crotch. Louis knows the truth. "You okay?" He asks, looking sideways, tongue gliding over his teeth.
Harry winces. Why that question? He hates that question with a passion.
Louis hides a smile, licking his teeth with his tongue. Harry's expression is giving him away. But instead he speaks. "Answer me, Harry." He squeezes Harry's fingers.
"Fine, Louis." Harry smiles a tiny bit and nods. Make sure Lou doesn't think anything's wrong.
"If you're sure." Louis mutters.