Merlin clears his throat.
Arthur does nothing in response and continues to stare straight ahead, his eyes waiting for any sign of movement in the forest.
"Arthur," Merlin whispers through clenched teeth.
"Don't make a move," Arthur whispers back, his voice low and intense. "Don't even think about it."
"Arthur," Merlin repeats, slightly louder. "There's a problem."
"The only problem," Arthur says, his voice barely audible from where Merlin is crouching several feet away, "is that you won't shut up."
"No, the problem is my bladder," Merlin hisses.
Arthur glances sideways and Merlin's eyes bulge out at him. "I told you to go before we stopped."
"That was nearly three hours ago," Merlin reasons, shifting slightly to relieve the pressure on his abdomen. "My legs are numb and I have to pee. Let's go. There's nothing here."
"There's plenty here," Arthur says, looking away from Merlin's pleading face. "I'm hunting and we're not leaving until I get when I've come for."
"And what exactly have you come for?"
"Stop it," Merlin hisses again. "You're punishing me and you know it. I'm punished, all right? Can we go now?"
"You're paranoid, Merlin," Arthur replies, his tone nonchalant. "What would I be punishing you for?"
"I'm paranoid? You - you're the one who walked in on me and Gwaine and jumped to all the worst - and wrong - conclusions."
There is silence for a long moment and Merlin shifts again, wondering if he'll even be able to make it out of his breeches by the time Arthur lets him move.
"You explained the situation," Arthur finally says. "So, unless it was a lie, there's no reason for punishment."
Merlin bends forward suddenly, his forehead nearly on the ground. He's sure he's going to loose control any second. He waited far too long to bring his problem to Arthur's attention. "Please," he chokes out, sitting up before the pain can overwhelm him. "Please, Arthur."
Arthur glances sideways again, then relaxes and turns to sit against the nearest tree. "You may stand."
"Gods, thank you," Merlin practically whimpers as he reaches for the laces on his breeches and tries to stand on his aching legs.
"You may not relieve yourself," Arthur says sternly.
Merlin looks up, his shaking hands clenching around the extra fabric on his thighs. "What?"
"We're playing a game." Arthur's eyes are bright and mischievous, though his voice remains harsh and demanding. "You can't relieve yourself until I say."
Merlin gulps and manages to steady himself as the blood finally returns to his lower limbs. "You'd better say within the next minute or so."
"Today is not your lucky day."
"Arthur," Merlin begs shamelessly, one hand moving to cup his cock, the other moving behind his leg to grip the back of his thigh in a desperate attempt to keep control of his bladder. "Unless you packed me a second pair of breeches-"
"You know very well I did no such thing."
Merlin bounces slightly on the balls of his feet. "Maybe you think I'm joking or exaggerating-"
"You know very well I think no such thing."
Luckily for Merlin, Arthur's joke is a feeble one. He's sure a single chuckle will push him over the edge. He slides both hands, curled into fists, down the front of his legs, his knuckles white with tension.
"This is ridiculous," he mutters, crossing his legs at the knee. "You're trying to embarrass me, but I won't be embarrassed. Even if it's only out of spite, I refuse to be embarrassed if I piss myself because of you."
"I don't want to see you embarrassed," Arthur says, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Then what do you want to see?" Merlin asks, his hands gripping the bottom of his tunic as he squirms.
When Arthur doesn't answer, Merlin gives him a sharp glare, but the longer his eyes stay on Arthur, the more he understands. Arthur's body is tense, his arms resting on the ground, but his hands are fists - fists that are shaking slightly and looking desperate to move. His mouth is parted slightly, his lips glistening.
"Gods," Merlin whines as he gets hard faster than he knew he could. "Arthur," he begs, his jaw clenched, "please - please."
Arthur shakes his head and moves one of his fists to his cock, pressing on it through his breeches.
Merlin closes his eyes and grabs his thighs, not sure how much more of this he can take. Arthur is watching him do his desperate little dance and actually getting off on it - the depraved prat. Merlin has never had to pee this badly in his life - he's never managed to hold it this long, never wanted to, never had a reason to - but Arthur is breathing hard and Merlin can't even remember the last time he's been so turned on over something that wasn't Arthur completely naked and writhing and sweating.
The pressure in his middle is overwhelming and he uncrosses his legs in favor of bouncing. He needs to pee and he needs to come and neither his brain nor his body can figure out which one needs to happen first. How many times has he imagined - vaguely, only vaguely - pissing all over Arthur, covering the prince in a warm shower of urine, before fucking the royal prat senseless? How many times has he gone out to the woods and relieved himself without removing any clothing, loving the sensation of the hot flood seeping through his breeches and running down his legs? How many times has he wished - though never for more than a second, never for so long that he'd actually have to admit to it - that Arthur would would one day shove his own desperate cock into Merlin's trousers and relieve himself on his manservant, covering them both in steaming piss before wrestling the thinner man to the floor and pounding into him, hard and rough and careless.
Has Arthur been spying on him? Has Arthur seen him sneak off into the woods for a desperate piss, always immediately followed by a desperate wank? Has Merlin somehow let slip about his fantasies? Or does Arthur somehow, by some near magical coincidence, share these fantasies?
"Arthur," Merlin whines again, surprised at how high-pitched his voice is. He really can't hold it any longer.
"Open your eyes," Arthur demands, his voice rough and demanding and full of desire.
Merlin's eyes snap open and see Arthur kneeling in front of the tree, his breeches pushed down on his thighs, his hand working over his cock with a furious speed as he watches Merlin squirm and moan and try to hold back several hours and countless canteens worth of water.
"Gods," Merlin practically sobs as he raises one knee across his body. He's so hard he's not even sure he'll be able to pee. Arthur is growling - actually growling - and staring at him with such predatory eyes and Merlin feels as if he's about to come, even though he hasn't been touched, even though he hasn't been hard for more than two minutes, even though he really, really needs to pee.
"Keep holding it," Arthur chokes out, his free hand moving to his balls and tugging them slightly.
Merlin closes his eyes again and reaches behind him to grab at the loose fabric of his breeches. He pulls on it, tightening the cloth's pressure on his front. Arthur moans longingly and Merlin can imagine what a sight he's making - constantly wriggling around, his hard cock now clearly visible through his suddenly tight breeches.
"Merlin," Arthur breathes shakily.
Merlin cries out and cups both his hands around his cock, crosses his legs at the knee, and starts bouncing pitifully. He's seconds away from release, from relief. He's sure of it. His eyes are clenched and there are stars bursting behind his scrunched eyelids as the pain in his bladder reaches a new height.
He's going to fall over any second. He needs movement, he needs distraction, he needs to piss more than he's ever needed anything in his life, he's sure his bladder is actually going to burst inside of him and he might actually die. He's bouncing and moving and gripping at his cock, at his thighs, at his knees, at his arse, at anything he can get ahold of. His balance finally gives out and he stumbles slightly, uncrossing his legs for a quick second before recrossing them other way, not entirely unconvinced he isn't going to loose his mind by the end of this.
"So - close," Arthur gasps and Merlin groans in response. He isn't sure if he's meant to keep holding until Arthur has come or if he's meant to relieve himself once Arthur has started coming or what in the world prompted Arthur to do this in the first place, but he hasn't got enough brain power at the moment to ask.
Merlin looks up at Arthur again and sees the prince licking his lips as he stares at his manservant, sees the prince wanking almost abusively, sees the prince's free hand roaming over his head, grabbing his hair, pulling on his earlobe, caressing his cheek, brushing over his lips.
Merlin lets out a desperate moan and closes his eyes again, unable to stand the sight of Arthur debauching himself so thoroughly. He wants to join in, wants to shove his cock down Arthur's throat and feel those beautifully pouty lips around his sensitive foreskin. He wants to empty his bladder all over Arthur, to see Arthur's drenched shirt clinging to those bulging muscles, to see dark and wet patches on Arthur's finely tailored breeches, to see his own piss drip down Arthur's hard cock.
"Shit - shit!" Merlin groans through clenched teeth as his extremely tentative control starts slipping away and he leaks for a second or two before he manages to grab his cock and bend over to stop the stream.
Arthur wails - literally cries out with a warble - as the urine slides down Merlin's leg, leaving a small, damp trail on his breeches.
Merlin's panting terribly, thinking he might pass out from lack of oxygen or too much pain or utter desperation. He's really going to lose this battle any second. He's really going to piss himself silly in front of another person, in front of Arthur, in front of the prince. He's really going to completely soak himself because he didn't go when Arthur suggested.
"Merlin!" Arthur's voice is sharp, barely controlled, but somehow still authoritative.
Merlin whimpers slightly at the power in that voice before opening his eyes and looking at Arthur.
"Go," Arthur pleads, his hips thrusting up into his hand. "Please, gods, do it."
Merlin barely has time to exhale and stand up properly before he's peeing all over himself. It's uncontrollable pleasure - the release and the hot urine steaming down his legs, soaking his breeches - and he sighs in relief before starting to moan, the strong waves of bliss truly too much to handle.
It feels amazing and he's still going, still pissing in his breeches, when he can't stand it anymore. He reaches down and rubs his hands all over his wet thighs, squeezing the fabric, spreading the stain, relishing in the warmth and the wetness and it just keeps coming. He moves one hand to his hard cock, massaging it's stiff shaft as it continues emptying out his bladder.
Arthur cries out loudly, practically shouts, and Merlin looks up just in time to see Arthur's cock give its own release. The sight takes Merlin's breath away and his cock twitches and his balls clench and suddenly he's not peeing anymore. His bladder is still incomprehensibly full, especially considering how much he just soaked himself, but Arthur is coming and Arthur is beautiful when he comes. His head is tipped back so much it looks as if something behind him is pulling his hair, holding his head back, exposing that wonderful neck with all its tendons and its muscles and that bobbing, protruding Adam's apple. His jaw is clenched and he's moaning through his teeth and Merlin has never seen Arthur come for this long before.
His soaking wet cock gives another twitch as Arthur finally collapses back against the tree, breathless, and Merlin undoes his sopping breeches and pulls it out, stroking it madly as he moves slowly toward Arthur's spent and deliciously flushed body.
"Merlin," Arthur whispers, his eyes clothes and his hand still wrapped around his gently throbbing cock. "Merlin."
"Sit up," Merlin says, his hand no longer enough to satisfy him. He's wanking furiously, drops of urine and far too much precome flying everywhere. He's seconds away from coming, he's been on the edge since the moment he got hard, but he wants Arthur to see - to help.
Arthur surges up and takes Merlin's cock in his mouth without prompting. He shoves Merlin's hand away and replaces it with his own, rubbing his fingers along the base before sliding them down to Merlin's balls. He squeezes them and Merlin shouts, bracing himself on the tree with one hand and grabbing Arthur's hair with his other hand, weaving his fingers through that glorious blond hair and gripping it tightly.
Arthur moves both his hands to Merlin's round backside and encourages Merlin to rock his hips, to fuck the royal mouth. Merlin's eyes roll back in his head as he thrusts against Arthur's tongue. He comes with a groan around Arthur's name as Arthur pulls back and sucks harshly on the head of Merlin's cock. His knees are trembling and he has to put both hands on the tree as Arthur swallows and sucks and licks him through the mind-numbing release.
He wants to stay like this forever, forehead pressed into a tree, balls being licked lovingly by a gorgeous prince, heart pounding somewhere up in his throat - but then Arthur slides his hands over Merlin's wet thighs and Merlin's cock twitches.
Merlin barely manages to step back before he's peeing again, all over the ground, and there's nothing in the world that could make him stop, even if he wanted to. This relief is possibly more pleasurable than the orgasm he'd just had, which he had been about to label as the best one he'd ever had. He can't stop from moaning as Arthur watches, licking those pouty lips and widening those hungry eyes, and he drops to his knees and aims the stream at Arthur's legs.
Arthur moans as Merlin soaks one thigh, then the other, before directing the stream to Arthur's still-hard cock.
It isn't long before Arthur is touching himself again as Merlin attempts to drown the royal cock in servant piss. Merlin's still moaning quietly as his bladder finally deflates and Arthur's watching the stream of urine like it's all that's keeping him alive and he manages to come again before Merlin finally, with one last sigh of relief, stops peeing.
Merlin sits next to Arthur and leans back against the tree, not caring that they're both sitting in a giant puddle of his own piss. He leans his head on Arthur's shoulder and closes his eyes, burning the memory into his brain. He could have come again from the sight of Arthur wanking while being pissed on, but he was so tired, and his cock was so sensitive, and he didn't want to pass out. The image would last a lifetime and he would have plenty of chances to wank to it himself, or possibly - probably, considering he's never seen Arthur get off twice in the same hour before - recreate the scene again and again.
"Well," Merlin says quietly when Arthur finally catches his breath and reaches out for Merlin's hand. Their hands are wet, covered in piss and come, but they lace their fingers together, anyway.
"Well," Arthur repeats sleepily.
"Do you feel I've been properly punished?"
Arthur snorts and leans his head back against Merlin's. "I suppose. But," his voice changes from soft to hard in a flash and Merlin smiles to himself, "if I ever catch you with your hands and your face in Gwaine's arse again-"
"You can ask him yourself," Merlin says calmly, squeezing Arthur's hand. "There was a stain on the back of trousers and he asked me to wash it off for him."
"You do realize how ridiculous that sounds," Arthur reasons, his tone more relaxed again.
"Of course. If you must know, I only agreed because I knew you were about to come into the hall. Otherwise, I would have sent him off to take of it himself. I wanted to see what you'd look like when you're all jealous over me."
Arthur clears his throat. "How did you like the result?"
"I'm reasonably satisfied," Merlin says, getting to his knees and turning to plant a kiss on Arthur's pouty lips.
Arthur brings his hands up to Merlin's neck, holding his manservant close and kissing the other man with every ounce of energy he can muster.
Merlin sinks down between Arthur's spread legs and runs his hands down the prince's wet thighs before breaking the kiss.
"How're we going to go back to Camelot like this?" he asks against Arthur's lips. "We're covered in piss."
Arthur grins and kisses Merlin again. "We could say we fell in a river."
"We might want to actually fall in a river," Merlin says, leaning back and glancing down at their breeches. "To wash up, I mean."
"Probably," Arthur agrees, leaning his head back against the tree and sighing contentedly. He closes his eyes and a small smile plays on his slightly swollen lips. "Merlin?"
"I'm here," Merlin whispers, staring at his prince with nothing short of awe.
Merlin grins and leans forward for another kiss. "Anytime, sire... anytime.