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dodificusTitle: On Demand
Author:isagel
Fandom: Lewis
Pairing: Lewis/Hathaway
Summary: "Can you pee on demand, Sergeant?" Lewis asks.
He stands in front of the urinal in the station’s men’s room and counts out the seconds in his head as they pass.
At one minute, he feels ridiculous, regretting the whole idea.
At three minutes, he wonders what Lewis is doing, if he’s still talking to Innocent, if he’s getting restless. The thought makes his throat tight, makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.
At six minutes, he’s simply waiting, eyes forward on the crack in the white tile that has been there unmended since January, arms at his side, fingers loosely curled. Apart from the way he’s conscious of his bladder, the pressure in it, it’s not that different from the stillness of kneeling on a church floor. He has experience with being still.
At nine minutes, the door opens, and Lewis sticks his head in, looks around, sees him. His gaze flicks down along the length of him, flicks back up.
There’s a heartbeat of silence. James can hear someone talking outside in the corridor, a policeman trying to calm a drunk offender.
“In my experience,” Lewis says, “that’ll end a lot better for you if you pull your zip down first. Get a move on, Sergeant. The witness won’t wait all night.”
“Yes, sir,” James says.
The door swings shut again just as he scrambles to get his trousers open.
A story where Lewis is, at first, an unwitting participant in Hathaway's pee kink...then, not so unwittingly.
Author:
isagelFandom: Lewis
Pairing: Lewis/Hathaway
Summary: "Can you pee on demand, Sergeant?" Lewis asks.
He stands in front of the urinal in the station’s men’s room and counts out the seconds in his head as they pass.
At one minute, he feels ridiculous, regretting the whole idea.
At three minutes, he wonders what Lewis is doing, if he’s still talking to Innocent, if he’s getting restless. The thought makes his throat tight, makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand up.
At six minutes, he’s simply waiting, eyes forward on the crack in the white tile that has been there unmended since January, arms at his side, fingers loosely curled. Apart from the way he’s conscious of his bladder, the pressure in it, it’s not that different from the stillness of kneeling on a church floor. He has experience with being still.
At nine minutes, the door opens, and Lewis sticks his head in, looks around, sees him. His gaze flicks down along the length of him, flicks back up.
There’s a heartbeat of silence. James can hear someone talking outside in the corridor, a policeman trying to calm a drunk offender.
“In my experience,” Lewis says, “that’ll end a lot better for you if you pull your zip down first. Get a move on, Sergeant. The witness won’t wait all night.”
“Yes, sir,” James says.
The door swings shut again just as he scrambles to get his trousers open.
A story where Lewis is, at first, an unwitting participant in Hathaway's pee kink...then, not so unwittingly.