Title: This Isn't The Bathroom
Fandom: Two and a Half Men
Main Kink: Watersports
Time Line: Inspired by the episode "The Price of Healthy Gums Is Eternal Vigilance", so somewhere early in season two.
Disclaimer: I do not own Two and a Half Men nor do I make any profit from this story.
Charlie was quiet as he trudged into his house at nearly one in the morning. It was one of those times when he had failed splendidly at bedding the girl. Made it all the way to her door before BAM the "I think you're a good friend" line. What a waste of time.
He headed up the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. No one else seemed to be awake, thankfully. He didn't feel like talking. Once in his bedroom he immediately stripped off the rest of his clothes and pulled out his favorite lube, the kind that heated up and made your toes curl. Masturbating was a little humiliating, but he was a strong believer that sex every day (any kind) would keep him fit and able without ever needing a little blue pill.
Relaxing back into his pillows, he started fantasizing about some of his better lays. To his credit and pride he got himself hard in under a minute and began stroking the lube onto his cock.
He sped up as his slick cock began to grow warmer. Suddenly a memory of Alan popped into his head, mouth agape as he realized Charlie had pissed on him as he slept, back when they were just kids. That only sprung those memories to the fore and Charlie's dick was so hard and hot as he remembered pissing on his little brother's stomach all those years ago. Those thrilling nights of sneaking into Alan's room to pull back the bed covers, of getting so excited he almost couldn't do it. But then his hot piss was splashing onto Alan, soaking him down and there was nothing Alan could do and -
Charlie came almost without realizing it.
He lay there gasping in the dark, shocked that he had just got off on... no, he couldn't have. But his hand was sticky with come and the image of a sleeping Alan drenched in piss still lingered. He continued panting in the afterglow for a few more seconds before mentally washing his hands clean of the fantasy. Then he really cleaned himself off, rolled over and fell asleep.
Charlie's bladder started complaining about his alcohol intake a few hours later, rousing him from the beginnings of a dream. A dream where Alan was on his knees at Charlie's feet, a golden stream wetting him down.
Charlie practically shook himself, trying to clear the dream away. But it stayed, playing through his mind and melding with the memories from before as Charlie rolled out of bed.
He thought he was heading for his bathroom until he saw the hall before him, Alan's door blocking his path. He hesitated, unsure exactly what he was planning to do.
"What the hell," He muttered as he opened the door. He wasn't known for his impulse control.
Quietly he crept into the dark room. He could hear Alan breathing softly in the black rectangle of his bed. Coming closer, he saw Alan was sleeping curled on his side, facing Charlie. What a perfect pose.
Carefully, Charlie flicked Alan's covers off of him in one smooth motion, revealing his pajama-clad body. Smirking, he slipped his hand down his boxers and pulled out his dick. His head was swimming with memories as he aimed for Alan's stomach.
A thrill shot up his spine as his piss splashed onto Alan. Like all those years ago, his uptight brother didn't so much as stir.
Pathetic Alan, wannabe doctor, he looked so much better covered in piss. His stomach and crotch were soaked, clothes clinging tight to his body, outlining him from the curve of his hips to his balls. Charlie glanced at Alan's still pristine face, and suddenly it wasn't enough.
He shifted slightly and watched, enthralled, as his stream of piss painted a dark streak across Alan's chest and onto his face. Alan's head jerked violently, hands instinctively coming up to try to block the hot piss. He sputtered out a startled sound and Charlie tried desperately to hit his open mouth, but Alan was already pushing himself upright. Instead Charlie ended up emptying the final drops from his bladder back onto Alan's front.
Alan wiped at his eyes, blinking through the stinging piss. He wasn't sure what was happening but wasn't surprised to see his brother standing before him. He glared at him, about to start shouting indignantly when he couldn't help but notice Charlie's half hard penis almost staring him in the eye. The sharp tang of urine was unmistakable but somehow Alan suspected there was more going on than a cruel joke. They stared at each other, Charlie's half lidded expression completely foreign to Alan.
"Charlie, what are you doing?" Alan said evenly, the tremor at the end barely noticeable.
Alan's voice broke the spell and snapped Charlie back to reality. The drops of piss sliding down the side of Alan's face seemed so surreal. And crap, he was just staring at him. Charlie really wished he'd thought this through a little more.
"Uh, oops. This isn't the bathroom," He said lamely, quickly tucking his dick away. "I, ah, gotta stop drinking."
Alan's eyebrows raised but he eagerly accepted the excuse anyway.
"Yeah. Yeah, that stuff'll kill you, you know," Alan agreed, slipping off his bed and trying hard to ignore the way his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin.
He almost put his hand on Charlie's shoulder, fingers hovering for a split second, but instead he gave an awkward flourish with his other hand toward the door. Charlie got the hint and made a hasty retreat. Alan shut the door behind him without another word. He briefly considered locking the door before he simply turned toward his private bathroom.
Charlie went back to his own room, not daring to test his luck further. He mentally patted himself on the back, marveling at how stupid and gullible Alan was to buy the lie and immensely satisfied with the whole experience.
In the morning, Alan would make a snide comment about Charlie's drunken habits, both otherwise pretending nothing had happened.