Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Wolfman doesn’t like the piddle packs. Rick discovers this by accident. 

The first time it happens, or at least, the first time Rick knows about it, they’re in the jet. Unfortunately for Wolf, they’ve also been there for a while; parked on the flight deck because the locking mechanism on the canopy isn’t releasing.

It had been a morning hop, a regular patrol, and they’d only been in the air for just over an hour or so before they rotated back to the ship. The trap itself went fine, he caught the third wire per usual, and the whole thing was close to standard operating procedure as you could get. 

But for the last forty minutes since he put the jet back on the middle-of-the-ocean postage stamp they’ve just been sitting here, waiting for the maintainers to figure out how to get them out without damaging the multi-million dollar government asset. 

It’s not a bad place to be, Rick reasons. They’ve got a nice view of the flight deck operations from up here, they’ve left the jet hooked up to the power cart so they have AC, and it’s a nice day out. The sun is shining off the water, and there are blue skies and relatively smooth sailing.

Sure, he’d rather be getting his paperwork done before lunch, but all in all it could be worse.

He’s surprised, then, to find his RIO is not in agreement with that sentiment.

"Rick…?” 

There’s something about the way Wolfman says his name and not his callsign that sets off warning bells in his head. He told him he could shortly after their CO informed him he was to be both the new lieutenant's supervisor and pilot. But it's been almost a month now and he's never actually taken him up on the offer before. He also sounds vaguely distressed.

Rick peers at him in the mirror which gives him a view into the cockpit behind him. "What's wrong Wolfie?"

"I need to..." the other man trails off, and Rick can see the blond’s cheeks are dusted pink and how he’s trying to avoid eye contact with him in the mirror. But he’s moving around in his seat uncomfortably like he can’t sit still, and Rick understands what he’s trying to say without saying it. 

There’s not much he can do from here though, so he makes what he hopes sounds like a sympathetic noise. “They'll have us out of here in no time."

Wolfman nods, and Rick puts it out of his mind for a while after that. 

He’s only reminded of the other man’s predicament when he hears shuffling from behind him about twenty minutes or so later. A quick look in the mirror confirms he’s pulled off his parachute harness and G suit, tossing them both behind his seat somewhere, and is scrunched forward a little in just his flight suit. 

Rick is sympathetic but he hopes the blond can hang on a little longer. It would be a really bad idea for him to lose it now, not when they don’t know how long they’ll be stuck here, or until he can sneak away to the showers to clean up properly.

He watches as Wolfman scoots forward a little, perching on the edge of his seat, squeezing at his crotch and tugging his lower lip between his teeth. It won't do much good for very long. Not being able to reach into his flight suit is making it hard to get a good grip, and he has to settle for just jamming a hand against himself and pressing down as best he can.

Another half hour or so later and he hears a quiet whimper from behind him that cuts off suddenly. Rick looks away from where he’s been observing the maintenance folks scattered around the jet in favor of peering back at the other man. Just checking on him, he tells himself, as any concerned supervisor would. 

He wonders how bad it is. Maybe just a few drops that dampen the front of his underwear a little? He watches as Wolf chews on his lower lip, squeezing his hands between his crossed legs, rocking back and forth against them. He doesn’t seem to have given up yet, at least.

“Wolfman, you not got a piddle pack stashed back there?"

The blond looks at Rick in the mirror and shakes his head. He can see the younger man is blushing, cheeks flushed pink. 

“Hop was supposed to be short. Besides, I don’t like ‘em.”

Rick hums in acknowledgment, he doesn’t have any either, and turns his attention back to the maintainers to give his RIO some semblance of privacy. 

He keeps an eye on Wolf in the mirror every now and then though, just to see how he’s holding up. After another fifteen minutes sweat is covering the blond’s forehead, and from the expression he’s making it looks like his stomach is hurting with the strain of holding back. Rick is struck for a second by how very young he looks.

It serves as a sharp reminder that his new RIO has only just turned twenty-two, and only recently arrived from training with his Fleet Replacement Squadron mid-deployment of the Nimitz to the Med. Rick hadn’t even graduated college until after he turned twenty-two. And he forgets, sometimes, that the other man is a good few years younger than the others. Wolf can be a character at the best of times, and a menace at the worst, and he slotted in seamlessly with the other junior officers and their jostling and general rambunctiousness.

And look, he knows Wolfman is a smart kid; he’d need to be, to have graduated college a few years early and to make it through RIO training. But at this particular moment, with his face flushed and blond curls in disarray now that he’s removed his helmet, he just looks vulnerable.

Rick wishes he could do something for him. From here it’s a little like watching a car crash you know is going to happen but can’t do anything to stop. He knows Wolf probably isn’t going to be able to wait until help comes. Wolf does too, apparently.

"Hollywood,” he gasps.

He jerks his head around from his examination of the maintainers working outside on the locking mechanism, humming in sympathy when he sees the boy’s plight. Hunched over half out of the chair now, his face is cherry red and he’s breathing fast and shallow, his whole body trembling.

"I can't…” Wolf bites out a wet sob, eyebrows furrowed like he’s furious with himself.

Rick wishes he could reach him from here, just to offer him a pat on the shoulder or something. 

"You really aren't going to be able to make it?"

"No,” he admits, shamefaced and clearly humiliated. 

Rick can see his control wavering, and in the absence of noise from the jet, he can hear a sudden hissing sound as several longer spurts dampen the front of his clothing, cut off when Wolfman whines, twisting himself up like a pretzel.

Well, if it’s going to happen one way or the other, might as well let it happen now before he does himself any permanent kidney damage.

Rick tries reasoning with him. “You’re hurting yourself, Wolfie. Just go.” 

“But everyone will know, and you’ll hear,” he protests. His voice sounds all choked up and Rick can see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. His accent is the thickest Rick's ever heard it too. Normally he softens it around the edges, his time in Florida for training probably forced him to do so if he wanted to be understood. But right now he's got more important things to worry about.

“Wolfman, Leo, it’s fine.”

He watches as the blond shakes his head in evident frustration.

A few minutes later though the inevitable happens. Wolf gasps and Rick watches in the mirror as he freezes, still hunched over, and all of a sudden he can hear the hissing sound as the younger man’s bladder gives up entirely, a rapid dripping sound quickly following as the puddle he’s made back there overflows onto the metal floor of the aircraft. It lasts several minutes and Rick thinks no wonder he was uncomfortable, he must have been so full.

His RIO cries after, sobbing silently into his hands as though he’s trying not to be heard, hiding his face and avoiding eye contact in the mirror.

And Rick, his face burning, realizes he’s hard.

It’s only shortly after that they’re finally freed by the maintenance crew, and Rick wants to scream because this was all so very nearly avoidable.

He doesn’t though. He acts like a consummate professional and leaves Wolfman to the mercy of the deck crew as he practically sprints for the locker room and showers. He may get in trouble for that later; abandoning him during a crisis sort of defeats the purpose of pairing newer RIOs with more experienced pilots and vice versa. But right now Rick has other pressing concerns.

In the locker room, he wastes no time stripping off his flight gear down to the base layers and stuffing it into his locker haphazardly, trading it for his toiletry bag and towel. It’s only once he’s in the relative safety of the shower stall, the flimsy plastic curtain offering him a modicum of privacy, that he dares to look down where his cock is rock hard and straining in his underwear.

Fuck.

He tries to ignore it at first, stripping off his base layers and hanging them with his towel before stepping under the warm spray. At least there’s an unlimited supply of hot water on a nuclear carrier, he thinks, though he wonders if maybe he should be taking a cold shower on this particular occasion.

Closing his eyes and sticking his head under the water, the image burns behind his eyes. His poor sweet RIO, lips bitten red and cheeks flushed, eyes damp with tears as he lost control of himself in such a public, humiliating fashion.

Rick grasps at his hard, aching cock, smearing his thumb over the tip where it’s already weeping precum.

He wonders if Wolfman is still out there now with the maintenance crew, cleaning the mess he made in front of everyone on the flight deck, or if they’ve taken pity on his RIO and let him go clean himself up a little first. Pictures him in his damp flight suit being handed cleaning products, the evidence of his shame for everyone on deck to see.

Using liquid soap to help ease the way, he teases from the base of his cock to the tip in long smooth strokes.

He thinks about the breathy moans of distress the blond made, how he watched in the mirror as Wolf’s little pink tongue darted out to soothe his bitten lips, making them all wet and shiny. He thinks about how they’d look wrapped around his cock.

Rick squeezes at the base of his cock when it jerks at that thought, not wanting this to be over quite so quickly. 

His balls tighten as he remembers the whining sound Wolf made when he first started to lose it, how he called out for Rick, desperately, as though his older mentor was some kind of omniscient presence who could swoop in and save him and magic it all away and make it better.

He wonders if that’s what it’d be like to fuck him. Would he make those same soft little noises? Would he say Rick’s name like that? Would he look to him for comfort and safety?

Rick cums all over the wall of the stall with a gasp and stands there panting for a moment watching the water wash the evidence away. 

He grunts in annoyance when the water shuts off and slams the button back on for another five minutes, the guilt already settling in his stomach as he hurries through actually showering before fleeing the scene of his crimes.

///

At first, he tries avoiding Wolfman. 

This is easier said than done on an aircraft carrier, especially when they’re still sharing a room and flying two hops a day together. And Rick briefly curses the happenstance that had led to him alone in a two-man stateroom which meant their late addition to the squadron is now sharing with him and not in an eight-man stateroom in the junior officer jungle.

But Rick does his best to avoid him at meal times, slipping out of bed half an hour before Wolf’s own alarm to grab breakfast, and getting lunch to go so he can work on paperwork at his desk. He hangs out in the aft rec room with the older pilots during any downtime, the one that the new Junior Grade Lieutenants tend not to frequent, and goes to the gym in the evening if there’s no night flying scheduled for them.

If Rick doesn’t interact with him outside of work, where at least he can concentrate on the task at hand and lose himself in procedure, then he doesn’t have to think about what he did in that bathroom. Jerking himself to completion while thinking about his new coworker, cheeks flushed pink, face damp with angry tears, looking ruined. 

It’s manageable, everything is fine. 

And it’s embarrassing for Rick too, really. He hadn’t been expecting his reaction to the incident. The attraction to another man isn’t anything new, but he hadn’t thought this could be something he was into. He feels a little like a voyeur like he took advantage of Wolfman in his moment of vulnerability.

But Rick doesn’t stop to think about what sort of message this sudden distance is sending his RIO, and it’s only a week or so later that he realizes the younger man has become quieter and more withdrawn.

It’s nothing major, but he’s hesitant in a way he wasn’t before, and he doesn’t seem to be spending as much time with the other new lieutenants. Rick watches him slinking out of the dirty shirt mess one day after grabbing lunch to go between hops, avoiding eye contact with everyone around him. It’s a far cry from his usual rowdy and unruly interactions with others.

But Rick doesn’t know what to do about it, and when he returns to their room later that evening Wolfman has already gone to bed. Or at least, he’s lying in the dark with the blankets pulled up around his ears when Rick creeps in quietly, trying not to disturb him.

He’s glad when it’s Wolf who broaches this new distance between them. Even if it is Rick's doing.

“Hollywood?” A quiet voice asks from the bunk below him like he isn’t sure if Rick is still awake and doesn’t want to bother him if he isn’t. 

Rick hums in acknowledgment.

“‘M sorry.” That quiet voice again. 

That takes him by surprise. Sorry? What does Wolf have to be sorry for? It’s Rick, after all, who took advantage of a vulnerable situation, and who created new distance in their otherwise budding friendship because of his inability to just get the hell over it. 

“What for, Wolfie?” He asks gently, probing.

“For, y’know. I know it was—“ Wolfman cuts himself off, sounding hesitant, unsure, a far cry from the confident, smiling individual Rick had been growing accustomed to during the first month they’d been paired together.

“‘M sorry, Holly. It was gross an’, an’ I didn’t mean to, I know I’m disgustin’ please don’t be mad.” Wolf finishes all in a rush like the words are tripping over themselves to get out. He sounds upset now, pleading, like he knows he's done something wrong and is just waiting for Rick to grant him his forgiveness.

Rick, surprised, sits up and leans on one elbow toward the edge of his bunk. “Wolf, why d’you think I’m mad?”

“I thought—“ the younger man sounds tentative, almost meek, and Rick wishes he could see him in the darkness below, “—thought maybe that’s why you were avoidin’ me now?”

Oh no. 

“Oh, Leo,” he sighs, and making a split-second decision he swings down carefully from his bunk, feeling around in the dark until he finds the edge of the other man’s bunk instead, and sits down before he trips over something.

Reaching out carefully he places a hand on Wolfman’s knee and finds that it’s shaking slightly. Probably stress. Rick squeezes gently, aiming for reassurance and hopes that it lands.

“Hey, no, c’mon, it’s okay. I promise I’m not mad, and I’ve never thought that you were gross or anything like that. These things happen, kid, you sure aren’t the first and you definitely won’t be the last.”

“Really?” Wolf shuffles closer to him down the bed, still sounding unsure.

Rick doesn’t hesitate. “Really,” he says, and finding his RIO’s forearm in the dark he tugs him closer until they’re almost facing each other. 

The affirmation seems to make him bolder, and even as he leans in, pressing against Rick in something that’s almost approaching a hug he mumbles “then why were you avoidin’ me?”

Rick doesn’t know how to answer that though. At least, not without spilling his own guts, admitting to things he’d rather not think about let alone acknowledge. So he settles for a partial truth and hopes it’ll be enough. “I was trying to give you space. You seemed pretty upset that I was there to see it.”

“Oh…”

Rick leans forward and nudges the younger man. Asks “want to get breakfast together tomorrow?” And it's a peace offering, but more than that Rick hopes they can draw a line under this, that things can go back to how they were before. Because, aside from anything else, he genuinely likes his new RIO.

“You don’t hafta babysit me.” Wolfman sounds indignant now and it’s sweet, in a way, that he imagines himself a burden on Rick’s time. As though it isn’t Rick who is taking advantage here. 

“Maybe I want to get breakfast with you, huh?” Rick scoffs, shoving him harder this time. Restoring the boisterous nature of their friendship, the way it was for those few weeks before the incident.

Wolf laughs and it crashes through Rick like relief. He does hug him then too, darting forward and wrapping gangly arms around Rick’s shoulders and mumbling “…thanks, Hollywood.”

And Rick doesn't normally hug his coworkers. Especially not like this, alone in the same rack in the dark on a moving aircraft carrier hundreds of miles offshore. It feels like crossing a line, but he's already crossed so many of those so he hugs him back awkwardly and imagines he’s pressing apologies into his skin. 

Soon he pulls away though, and whispers “get some sleep” into the darkness of the room before climbing back into his own bed.

Although Rick wonders, listening to his RIO shuffle around below him, if Wolfman would have minded if he’d stayed.

///

The next time it happens they’re flying at night. 

It’s their second hop of the day, and the first earlier that afternoon had gone without a hitch. Unfortunately for Wolfman, that luck was about to run out.

They’ve been in the air for a few hours already when it happens, returning from escorting an asset down a security corridor off the coast of Lebanon. Rick had already made use of a piddle pack half an hour ago.

“Hollywood? You think you could, um, fly straight and level for a few minutes?” comes a quiet voice over the ICS.

“Can do,” Rick replies, leveling wings and easing up on the stick. 

He can’t hear Wolfman shuffling around behind him over the noise of the jet, but he knows the piddle pack procedure well enough. So when a voice crackles over the radio from the ship only about twenty seconds later it’s a reasonably sure thing that his poor RIO has barely got the pack open, let alone finished. 

“We have unknown contact inbound, two bogeys, vector two four zero.”

The Carrier Control Approach Officer sounds a little frazzled, but Rick internally curses the terrible timing. 

“Sorry, Wolfie, you’re going to have to cut that short,” he says, grimly. “Spotlight them, please.”

“Kay.” Wolfman’s voice sounds tight, even through the robotic distortion of the ICS, and Rick knows the outcome of this probably isn’t going to be good.

He pulls around, climbing on a high left to set up the intercept, and feels his G suit inflating to compensate.

He hears the gasp behind him over the ICS. It’s set to hot mic, so they don’t have to cue it every time they speak to each other, and now Rick has a front-row seat to Wolfman’s ah, situation. He feels a pang of sympathy for his poor RIO who currently has a pressurized corset expanding against his apparently full bladder.

“No no no no no,” Wolfman mutters frantically, still broadcasting, and Rick can only imagine what’s happening in the dark behind him. 

Rick levels off and waits for Wolf to paint the two bogeys. It takes him a minute or two to give Rick his heading, and he wonders if the other man’s hands are shaking. Eventually, they intercept a few hundred feet apart. Close enough to see that the other planes are F-16s.

“Looks like two Israeli F-16s. Definitely not bandits, but ask anyway.” Rick tells Wolf over the ICS, keeping his voice level. Really he wants to curse, what a waste of damn time. At least Wolf can get some IFF practice in with friendlies, but that's not much of a consolation prize in the scheme of things.

Wolfman uses the AWG-9 WCS for soft lock to get contact and hold IFF. They get a positive response only a few seconds later, two short horizontal parallel lines. Friendly. He gives the lead pilot a wave, dipping his wings, and rolls into a dive to return to their pre-planned flight path. 

Wolf calls it back into the ship and then they sit in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, he needs to confirm though. To know. 

“You doing okay back there Wolfie?” Rick asks cautiously.

“Not really,” he replies quietly. His poor RIO sounds miserable. It’s hard to see him in the mirror in the darkness of the cockpit, but Rick can imagine what happened. Can picture him sitting there in the dark with the wet fabric of his underwear and flight suit clinging wetly to his skin.

His cock twitches and he resists the urge to palm himself through his flight suit, knowing that it will only make it worse and harder to hide when he has to get out of the jet. Maybe if he ignores it he can pretend it’s not there?

“We’ve got a racehorse situation on board,” Rick calls it in to the ground crew while they’re flying the holding pattern, just like he’s supposed to. But he does feel guilty knowing the burning humiliation poor Wolfman must be feeling, having it discussed so openly.

At least the night trap goes off without a hitch, Rick catches the third wire right on schedule and follows the directions of the guys on the ground. The CAG is already off the flight deck for the night, it is after 0100, but the Deputy CAG comes out of the island and meets them on the tarmac after they’ve taxied. 

Rick hops out to waylay him and explain what happened while Wolfman accepts the proffered cleaning products from the ground crew. The Deputy CAG at least seems sympathetic, and as section lead Rick’s professional opinion means something, but he also knows his hands are tied. 

Which is why he isn’t surprised when the man calls out “Lieutenant Wolfe, I expect you to go see the flight doc first thing tomorrow to discuss this” before departing. 

Rick gets it. He knows how it looks even if neither incident was actually Wolfman’s fault. A malfunctioning canopy release that kept them trapped in place for hours, and an aborted piddle pack manoeuver. What can you do, really? Could have happened to anyone. But two times in less than a month looks like a pattern.

Wolfman keeps it together for the few minutes it takes for the XO to depart, snapping off a sharp yessir and getting back to the task of cleaning once he’s been dismissed. But Rick doesn’t miss the way his hands are shaking.

After he’s run through the post-flight checks with the aircrew on the ground, and sketched out his own notes with a clipboard, paper, and pen for tomorrow’s inevitable debrief and report writing about the asset delivery, he wanders back over to where Wolf appears to be cleaning in the same places for the third time in a row.

“Wolfie, you’ve got to be done by now.”

His RIO ignores him at first, pretending he can’t hear him over the flightline noise, and it takes Rick climbing back up on the wing beside him and physically pulling him away before he gives in. He sags with his head against Rick’s shoulder for a moment, like he’s got no fight left in him. Rick helps pack the cleaning stuff up and hand it off to the crew waiting below before he heads inside, Wolfman trailing after him morosely. 

In the relative privacy of the stairwell at this time of night, most people in bed or still outside working, Wolf bursts into frustrated, silent tears. It lasts less than a minute before he pulls himself back together again, but something in Rick’s chest hurts watching the younger man pace in the narrow stairwell while he tries to walk it off. Ignoring the sound his damp flight suit and gear make as they chafe, clinging to his damp thighs.

“This is why I hate piddle packs,” he sniffs, angrily scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. 

Rick shoves his own feelings on the matter down and wraps an arm around his RIO’s shoulders, ignoring Wolf’s protests about getting him dirty too as he leads him away further into the bowels of the ship.

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Back in the locker room, Rick helps him remove the velcro patches from his flight suit silently, working on the right side while Wolf does the left, and sets them in a neat pile on the shelf in his locker. 

He averts his eyes while his RIO strips all of his wet clothes off, leaving a sad little pile of his gear next to the bench while he goes to shower.   

There’s not much else he can do for him though, and after he stows his own gear and changes into sweats and a t-shirt he settles for waiting quietly, eyes closed and head tipped back against the wall behind him. It’s been a long day and Rick is ready to go to bed before they have to get up and do it all over again. 

Wolf’s eyes are red when he comes back in just a towel like he might have cried for a while in the shower where nobody could see or hear him. Rick already feels guilty about how turned on he was earlier, and seeing him like this makes it worse. 

He stays silent while he waits for his RIO to dress, though he notes that he’s shivering slightly in his t-shirt and gym shorts. It is the middle of the night, and while Rick is pretty sure it isn’t the temperature that has him feeling a little shaky, September out on the water in the eastern Med isn’t the warmest. He grabs a hoodie from his own locker and, tugging it over the blond’s head, ignores the half-hearted protest his RIO puts up even though Rick can see the way he sinks into it. Pulls the sleeves down over his hands and flips the hood up like he wants to hide from the world.

Wolfman wraps his gear up in his undershirt to carry it, avoiding touching the parts that are wet, and they shuffle down to the laundry together. There’s a protocol for occasions like this. It’s not that uncommon a situation even if it isn’t exactly a common one either. 

They head to bed after, skipping mid-rats in favor of granola bars and bottled water from the vending machine in one of the ready rooms. Wolfman appears to be emotionally as well as physically exhausted and Rick is determined to keep up his strange sort of vigil watching over him. 

He hugs him silently when they finally reach the privacy of their room. Nothing overly familiar, just two arms around his RIO’s waist and a tight squeeze via which he tries to communicate “I’m here”, and “I’ve got your back.” He can feel the tension in Wolf’s shoulders, and the longer they stand there the more it seems to fade away until the younger man is slumped against him by the time they separate. 

Rick prods him in the direction of his bunk, and the blond goes without complaint. Hopefully, he thinks, in the morning things will seem easier.

///

The next day Wolfman comes back from seeing the flight doc looking somewhere between relieved and shell-shocked. Rick wants to ask, but he doesn’t, and it takes a few weeks before Rick learns what, precisely, the flight doc’s solution was.

After that though, Wolf sometimes excuses himself to shower after longer hops even if it hasn’t been a particularly strenuous flight. They're mostly doing high-altitude air-to-ground bombing runs of Lebanese infrastructure, so no high G forces other than the initial cat shot and climb. Not enough that he’d be hot and sweaty and need a second shower of the day just to cool off. 

Other times he doesn’t though.

And on one such occasion, in their cabin to get some rest after a short hop earlier in the day—still on alert 60 for the night—Wolfman reaches over him to grab the book he left on the desk the night before. Some baseball autobiography. His sweater rides up as he stretches over Rick’s shoulder showing a sliver of tanned skin around his waist and a half inch of tell-tale white waistband.

And then Rick knows.

It’s not weird, he reasons with himself, if anything Rick’s the one making it weird. It’s a valid solution while in the air. Hell, as far as Rick knows it’s the only solution currently available for female aviators and standard operating procedure for any pilot flying something like the U-2 and wearing a high-altitude suit.

Although Rick thinks as Wolf settles back in his rack, curling up with his book in hand, perhaps the situation feels a little weird because he's still wearing it.

And okay, maybe there’s nothing inherently weird about it. After all, if he was already wearing it earlier, it doesn’t suddenly become weird just because they’re in their stateroom now and not on the flight deck or in the jet. There’s not a gateway of weirdness somewhere around the starboard bow stairwell down to the O-1 level where the airwing are all housed.

It’s a solution to a problem and there’s probably a good reason Wolfman hasn’t removed it. Maybe in case they have to go back out again tonight? They are on alert 60 after all.

Even so, he finds himself shooting glances at his RIO every now and then. It's hard to get comfy on the terrible beds, and Rick watches out of the corner of his eye each time Wolfman changes position, trying to work out if he can see the outline of what he is wearing under his sweats. He can’t, he decides in the end. Which makes sense, the flight doc, hell, the Navy, have a vested interest in being discreet about what some of their aviators wear to work. 

But even if no one else but the flight doc and Wolf himself know about it, hidden from the rest of the people on this ship, his RIO was wearing a fucking diaper. And now Rick knows it’s there. 

He resigns himself to being unable to finish his paperwork.

///

At least by mid-September, their friendship has recovered from the strained week that followed the first incident.

Rick still feels guilty about his own actions. It’s not made any better by the fact that sometimes, usually when he’s alone in the shower, he closes his eyes and thinks about his RIO while he wraps a hand around his aching cock. His pouty bottom lip, his pretty blue eyes, the soft blond curls he tries to tame with gel each day. He knows what Wolfman sounds like when he whimpers and moans, knows how he’d look debauched and wrecked. Still thinks about how he called Rick's name in his distress, all teary and pleading and wanting Rick to make it better somehow.

But Rick shoves it aside most of the time. 

After all, they’re quickly becoming good friends outside of Rick’s strange new sexual proclivities, and that’s not something he wants to screw up. They’ve been spending more and more time together in the evenings, rather than hanging out in the rec rooms, as well as the time spent eating, working, and flying together. Enough so that the other more senior officers have started to joke about his blond shadow.

Even with the limited space for personal items, Wolfman had apparently decided to prioritize bringing a small personal library on deployment over the usual choices of entertainment like bootleg VHS tapes. This has proven especially helpful after night hops when the adrenaline of the trap under the cover of darkness—relying only on instruments and unable to see the carrier—makes it hard to wind down. It’s been a long few months at sea, hell June to August the airwing flew sixty-seven days of continuous sorties, and at this point, he will take what he can get if it helps him turn his brain off and sleep.

On one such night, Rick picks up the book they’ve been working their way through for the past few days, trading off whose turn it is to read, and sits on Wolfman’s bunk leaning back against the bulwark. His RIO drags the blankets from both their racks over them and then presses into his side to listen, Rick wrapping his free arm around his narrow shoulders. 

This, too, is a recent change. Wolf is becoming more relaxed around him, more casually affectionate, and it’s nice, Rick thinks. Outside of any conflicting feelings he has regarding certain events, he genuinely enjoys spending time with the younger man. His sense of humor is dryer than Rick's own, which is saying something, and he finds the running commentary Wolf keeps up on their reading material amusing where others might find it annoying.

He's not sure that he's ever clicked with someone so fast before, especially when they're so different on the surface of it all, but though unexpected it's a welcome turn of events.

Enough so that when they return to Lemoore in a few weeks they’ve decided that Wolfman will stay with him for a while. He’d met the ship at port in Italy, coming straight from his Fleet Replacement Squadron in Pensacola, and Rick figures that staying in his guest room is probably a nicer option than a motel. The usual nonsense associated with arriving at a new base is going to be hard enough, what with viewing apartments and having his stuff delivered from storage, at least this way he won't have to worry about temp housing solutions.

They fall asleep like that after a while, the book set aside and Wolf sprawled against him with one hand twisted in his t-shirt like he's subconsciously afraid Rick might get up and leave. But there’s a banging sound in the corridor that wakes them only a few hours later.

It can’t even properly be morning yet Rick thinks, grimacing. The perils of living on a carrier with 24/7 shifts even when the airwing schedule is offset to accommodate night flying.

“Hollywood. Rick,” Wolf whispers, pushing at his shoulder. “I need to get up.”

“Hm?” Rick questions, swimming back to consciousness slowly. 

It takes him a minute or two to notice that he’s draped half on top of his poor RIO, pinning him to the bed with his bulk. He’s wound his arms around the blond in his sleep, their legs tangled together and his head tucked under Rick’s chin. He rolls onto his back without letting go of him, reversing their positions so that the blond is sprawled over him instead. 

Rick blinks sleepy eyes open then, trying to focus on his face in the dim light from the lamp they never managed to turn off, murmurs “what’s wrong?”

“Bathroom,” Wolf huffs. Though he makes no immediate attempt to get up, snuggling closer to Rick and trying to get comfy again.

Not that Rick can blame him. It’s warm wrapped up in their shared blankets, and they’ve not been asleep for very long. He nudges the other man gently before he can fall back asleep, his eyes already closing, soft breaths evening out. “Go on then.”

“‘M tired,” he moans, burying his face against Rick’s chest reluctantly.

Rick wonders, hesitant to reach out and run a hand all the way down his RIO’s back, just to see. “You’re still wearing it, right? From last night’s hop?”

“Yeah…” Wolf mumbles. He sounds embarrassed that Rick noticed, that he knows. And although Rick can’t see his face he doesn't need to, he can already tell that his cheeks are likely stained pink with embarrassment from the way he ducks his head and refuses to meet his eyes.

Rick tightens his arms around him in a reassuring hug and leans down to press his face into the mop of soft blond hair. “Why not just use it? Alert must be over by now.”

Wolf’s whole body goes rigid then, and he shakes his head almost violently, hair tickling at the underside of Rick’s jaw. “I don’t… I don’t do that.”

“Okay,” Rick whispers gently, moving one hand back and forth soothingly where it’s resting on his upper back. “Best get up then.”

A grumbled whine follows and Rick tries not to laugh, though he isn’t entirely successful.

It takes a few more gentle nudges before his sweet, sleepy RIO is awake enough to move. Before he manages to pull himself away from their cozy little nest of blankets for long enough to go to the bathroom at the end of the hall and back. Turns out the lamp when he returns and wordlessly crawls back in with Rick as though it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Rick waits for him to get situated and curls an arm around him, letting him snuggle up against him like the world's lankiest, cuddliest heat-seeking missile. The Sidewinder has nothing on a sleepy RIO. Wolf is asleep again in minutes, quiet breaths puffing against his chest.

It does make him wonder though, about what might have happened if he’d not prodded him to get up. If he’d just let him fall back asleep. 

If he’d asked him not to leave.

///

Wolfman has been deliberately dehydrating himself.

Rick finds this out in the worst way possible when they’re conducting their fly-off from the Nimitz after it reaches home port in Norfolk, VA at the beginning of October. From Norfolk to their squadron’s home base at NAS Lemoore it’s almost three thousand miles, just under five hours of continuous flight with two air-to-air refuelings. And shortly after hour four ends Wolf starts to feel unwell.

“Hollywood?” A quiet voice comes over the ICS, sounding slightly concerned, and Rick’s face snaps to the little mirror where he can see his RIO.

“What’s up, Wolfie?”

“‘M feelin’ a little dizzy,” the blond admits pulling his shades off for a minute, and Rick can see him blinking his eyes as if to clear them of some invisible obstruction.

Rick eyes his own instruments and can see nothing wrong there, but it doesn’t hurt to double-check. “Can you check cabin pressure and O2? All the good stuff?”

The younger man nods and Rick sees him duck forward to fiddle with his instrument panel, stopping every now and then to clench his eyes shut tight as though he's fighting off dizziness or queasiness or some combination of the two. “Yeah, looks fine. I think it’s me,” Wolf tells him after a minute or so, sounding worried now.

Rick wants to curse but he resists the urge. He doesn't want to freak Wolfman out and make it worse, but dammit they were so close to being home safe. 

“What are you feeling?” He asks, keeping his voice steady even as his fist clenches on the stick.

“Drained, kinda tired, and a little dizzy,” he says, sounding slightly out of it, “small headache too, it's been building for a while.”

Rick thinks fast while internally trying not to panic. His Rio sounds a little spacey, and he needs to keep him present, responsive. “Talk to me,” he says, “tell me about some of the things you want to do next week while we aren’t working.”

“Maybe the beach? Been on the ship a while, no port,” Wolfman mumbles, "and the shipyard at Norfolk doesn't count."

“We can do that,” Rick assures him, fighting his own concern down, and trying to keep his voice level. “Just stay awake for me.”

“Far from Lemoore though...” he trails off.

Rick shakes his head in disagreement, though he knows his RIO probably isn’t looking at him. “Not too far. We can make a day trip of it.”

“Mmm.”

“Wolf?” Rick calls when he doesn’t get a proper response, looking away from the controls to see his RIO in the mirror, finding him slumped over, head lolling forward. “Hey, Wolfman! Leo!”

He’s unconscious. Rick feels his panic rising, but there’s nothing he can do except call his name over the ICS in the hopes of rousing him while maintaining course for Lemoore.

They’re too close to divert now. Only twenty minutes or so at their current airspeed. The best he can do is follow their flight plan and make sure there are hospital corpsmen ready on standby for when they land. That doesn’t help the twisting feeling in his gut or how hysterical he’s beginning to sound while calling his RIO’s name and getting no response.

Rick has been doing this a while, he's six years older than the younger man, after all. But he's never had a RIO pass out on him like this before. And he's not just his RIO either, is he? A friend, maybe, but to Rick it feels like maybe they've been sliding toward more more recently. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking on his part. But none of that matters when Wolf is passed out behind him, out of sight and out of reach.

After what seems like a lifetime, but is probably only about ten minutes judging by the time it took to have a conversation with the ground and the other folks from their squadron in the air with them, Wolfman starts to stir.

“Rick?” His voice comes over the ICS, sounding small and uncertain.

Rick’s eyes shoot up to the mirror and he sees the other man is awake, no longer slumped over, but he looks pale even behind his helmet and shades and his eyes are still closed. “Leo,” Rick breathes in relief, “what the hell is going on back there?”

“I don’t know. I think I fell asleep?” He sounds disoriented, a little confused even, blinking his eyes open slowly, and peering around him as though he’s just realizing they’re in the air.

“I think you passed out Wolfie. I was hoping you knew why,” he says, hand clenching and unclenching on the stick.

“I don’t feel too great, Holly,” he admits. He still sounds dazed. 

Rick wishes he could get to him. To examine him all over for injuries, to hug him like they’re back in his rack on the boat, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest against his own so Rick knows he’s breathing. But he can’t, not right now, trapped up front and out of reach.

Instead, he says “can you keep talking to me? We’re almost there. It’s okay if you can’t handle communications with the tower, I’ll do it, but I need to know you’re awake.”

“Yeah. Rick, ‘m real sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Rick promises. “We’ll get you checked out as soon as we land.”

When they do land he is just happy to be back on the ground after five hours in the air, and even more happy that their deployment is over and he can finally go home. He lives about twenty minutes from NAS Lemoore, in Hanford, and his apartment may not be anything fancy but at least it’s his. No more mess hall food, government-issue blankets, or uncomfortable bunks for a while.

First, there are other issues to address though. When they climb down from the jet, Wolfman still looking pale and a little shaky, he finds that the flight doc is waiting for them on the tarmac with a couple corpsmen along with the ground crew for post-flight. 

“Go with them to get checked out Wolfie, please? I’ll come and find you after we’re situated here.”

Wolf looks like he’s going to protest, but then slumps in defeat and nods. Rick settles for an awkward pat on the shoulder, conscious of the people nearby who would see if he were to tug him into a hug like he wishes he could.

After post-flight is done, he gets one of the ground crew to give him a ride over to the long-term parking lot to pick up his car and then drives over to the base clinic by himself. He’s mostly grateful that the car battery isn’t dead, it’s always a gamble coming back from a long deployment like this, and the last thing he needs right now is to have to wait for someone to come out and give him a boost.

It also doesn’t seem that busy when he walks into the clinic’s waiting area. So, two small victories in a row. Here’s hoping for a third.

“I’m here for Lieutenant Wolfe. Is he okay?” He asks at the little reception window.

The intake nurse raises an eyebrow, looking at him up and down. It takes him a few moments before he realizes it's because he’s still in his flight suit, though at least he’d already divested the rest of his gear to the back seat of his car. “Name and relation?”

“Lieutenant Rick Neven, Ma’am,” he says, scratching at the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh, he’s my RIO?”

She looks like she’s trying not to smile, and she’s at least kind when she replies “unfortunately, much as you aviators may like to disagree, pilot-RIO pairings do not count as next-of-kin relationships.”

Rick would in fact like to disagree, but he doesn’t argue the point. Not when he hasn’t seen Wolfman yet. He’d at least like to do that before starting any arguments that could get him kicked out.

“Is he awake? I’m pretty sure he’d want me to know what’s going on. Please, could you ask him?” He presses, and he's aware that he's probably being impolite but he doesn't really care enough to apologize. Protocol be damned, this woman is probably just doing her job but she's also the one standing between him and his friend who looked on the verge of passing out again the last time he saw him.

She nods and returns a few minutes later, smiling and shaking her head. “You weren’t wrong, he’s the one in the bed but he seemed more worried about you. He’s fine, just very dehydrated. It’s not that uncommon among you aviators. You all think you're invincible. We’ll release him in a few hours, we have him hooked up to an IV right now to get electrolytes and fluids in him while he rests.” 

Rick feels his whole body sag in relief. He thanks her before wandering over to the waiting area to drop heavily into an uncomfortable plastic chair. It’s only early afternoon East Coast time, which is the timezone his body is currently insisting on, but it was a long flight and he’s also pretty wiped out. Dehydration. Fuck.

At least he’s going to be okay.

He waits there for a few hours, falling asleep and dozing lightly until a familiar voice calls his name quietly and he blinks himself awake to find Wolfman standing in front of him, still in his flight suit and looking apologetic.

“Leo,” Rick breathes, his hands twitching toward him before he pulls them back and sets them firmly on his thighs. 

Wolf looks down at his boots, scuffing one foot back and forth over the linoleum floor. “You didn’t hafta wait for me.”

Rick scoffs. “Of course I did, do you think I was leaving you here alone after that? I was worried .”

“Oh,” the blond says, wincing a little as though he hadn’t considered that, as though the thought hadn’t even been on his radar. “I’m okay, I slept for a while. ‘M just waitin’ on the discharge paperwork.”

It only takes a few minutes until he’s called over to the little window and handed a sheaf of paper. There’s no need to restrict him to quarters since they’re not due in work for the next few days, but the discharge nurse is very firm that he should be properly hydrating and resting. 

When they ride back over to the locker rooms to change and drop their gear off the silence between them is almost awkward. Wolfman knows he screwed up, Rick just isn’t why and his RIO sure isn’t volunteering that information. At least the rest of the squadron have already cleared out by the time they get there—many of them had family waiting on them when they arrived—though they’ve left both Rick and Wolf’s duffels stacked in a heap in the foyer.

Rick is just grateful Wolf won’t have to field questions from them right after being discharged from medical while they're both exhausted. They have seven days of compensatory time next week after returning from deployment, and standing in the shower with the water cascading over his head Rick sighs and thinks about how he might request a couple days of leave to follow it. 

It’s been a long seven months.

He waits until they’re back in the car, freshly showered and dressed in comfortable clothing, before he asks firmly, “what’s going on Wolfie? You know better than this.” 

Dehydration. Something drilled into them during training, that they’re warned about during safety briefs on a regular enough basis. 

Supposedly Wolfman is no longer dehydrated given they’ve released him, but he still looks pale. His hands are shaking a little too. They’ve not eaten since breakfast though and Rick wonders if maybe his blood sugar is low. At least that he can fix easily enough.

“‘M worried they’ll leak,” he finally admits, his eyes closed, head leaning up the passenger side window, not looking at Rick.

Oh. Rick realizes what he’s talking about. 

The thing is, he’s also not exactly wrong per se.

The reality of the matter is this: the DoD does have a habit of cutting corners wherever possible when it comes to sourcing. Civilian marketing acts as though ‘military grade’ is a selling point. But anyone who has ever interacted with the US military knows that it simply means the worst possible product, sourced from the bidder offering the lowest cost per unit and fastest delivery schedule. 

”We’ll find better ones then,” he shrugs and states it as a matter of fact. 

Wolfman scoffs and turns his body away awkwardly so he’s facing the window entirely. “We?”

“I am your pilot, aren’t I?” Rick points out. “I’m responsible for your well-being up there.” 

Wolf doesn’t budge though and Rick sighs, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He doesn’t want to make this awkward for either of them, he really doesn’t. Everything has been so easy recently, this is just another problem to solve. And he is good at solving problems. 

“Look, why don’t we just drop by CVS on the way home and then go pick up pizza?” Rick suggests eventually. “We don’t even have to get anything, we can just… go see what alternatives are easily available.”

And then eat pizza he doesn’t add. But it’s implied. Emotional support pizza is an idea he can get behind, and the carbohydrates will probably help how pale and shaky Wolfman looks. That and Rick hasn't had a good pizza in months. The stopover in Naples only lasted a few days and all he wants right now is something greasy smothered in cheese and to sleep for the next week.

“You have Star Trek, right?” Wolf asks, still sounding hesitant.

“All three seasons and the first two movies on the highest quality bootleg VHS," he grins. "Didn’t have time to get the third before deployment.” Rick leans over slightly to nudge him then. “We can start marathoning the series when we get home, maybe go to the rental store later this week when we’re not so wiped?”

“Okay,” Wolfman agrees quietly, and Rick is going to count that as a success.

It only takes twenty minutes before they’re pulling into the CVS parking lot. Thankfully there’s one only a few blocks from Rick’s apartment. He finds a space near the entrance to the store and looks over at Wolf who has his eyes fixed on his own lap, where his hands are twisted together.

“Do you want me to come inside with you?” Rick asks gently.

It's just an offer; he won’t intrude on this if his RIO doesn’t want him to, though he’s happy to help if he needs the support. But Wolf whispers “please”, sounding so small and sad that Rick wonders if it would be inappropriate to hug him again, and so he follows him inside.

The blond looks nervous from the moment they enter the store, making an awkward circuit of the place instead of heading directly to where the overhead signs indicate they should be looking. Rick won’t judge him though, just walks behind him quietly until they find the aisle they need and hovers nearby protectively while he scans the shelves. There’s barely anyone else there who isn’t working there, but Rick knows that sometimes embarrassment isn’t rational. 

“Maybe these?” He says finally, grabbing a pack from the shelf and tossing them in the cart, a faint blush visible on his cheeks.

Rick glances in the cart. They’re a brand name and look substantially different from the ones the flight doc on the ship had given him, but whether or not they are any better or worse is not something that can be judged simply by looking at the packaging. “You’ll need to road-test them before you get in a jet,” Rick warns him.

His RIO nods jerkily, face flushing as he twists his hands together nervously, and Rick resents the fact he can’t hug him in public, can’t offer reassurance that goes beyond an awkward pat on the shoulder. 

“I need to get um, something to help prevent rashes too,” Wolf’s face is bright red now, and he won’t look Rick in the eye. “I had to wear it the whole time I was at the clinic earlier, there was nowhere to...”

Rick winces in sympathy and nods, a five-hour flight and then three hours at the clinic can’t have been comfortable if he’d ah, used it, as he seemed to be implying.

It’s probably the most painful shopping experience either of them has ever had, by the time they locate the uh, protective garments, and barrier cream and wipes and Wolfman has stumbled his way through paying with a dour-faced middle-aged woman who looks like she couldn’t give less of a fuck about what he’s buying. When they’re back in the car, CVS bag tossed in the trunk with their duffel bags, Rick meets Wolf’s eye, and then all of a sudden they’re laughing because how is this either of their lives now? 

“C’mon buddy,” Rick says, shaking his head and clapping Wolf on the shoulder, “let’s go get snacks and pizza and shit.”

His RIO nods and looks like he’s going to cry with relief.

When they finally get home Rick makes quick work of hauling their duffels in from the car, dropping Wolf’s stuff off in the guest room, and leaving the blond to bring in the pizza and the bags from CVS and the gas station where they’d stopped to get gas, chips, and soda. Wolfman awkwardly shuffles off to the bathroom after Rick points out where it is, the CVS bag and his sleepwear in hand, and Rick pretends like he doesn’t know what he’s doing in there while he sets up the first season of Star Trek ready on the VCR, laying out the drinks and snacks on the coffee table along with the pizza. Rick did say he needed to test them after all, so maybe this was on him. 

It’s just he hadn’t necessarily thought that would mean right away, or at least not when they’re together. Which, his mistake, probably. Especially because they only have seven days until they’re due back in work and they’re going to be together pretty much all of the time if Wolf is living here for the time being. And again, Rick had been the one to suggest it. The problem, really, is that his RIO is so easily suggestible.

His thoughts take a dark turn then, as he wonders just how suggestible he is. Whether Wolfie would be interested in some of the things he is, whether he'd drop to his knees for him if only he were to ask him to. He has to shake it off before the other man returns from the bathroom, willing his hard-on away.

It’s easy to almost forget about it in the end, by the time they’re a couple of episodes into season one and have eaten most of the pizza, some color finally returning to Wolf’s cheeks. And really, the quiet between them is comfortable. Aside from Rick’s proclivities, and that recently he increasingly often finds himself wondering what it would be like to scoop the blond up and drag him off to bed to fuck him until he screams, their friendship is easy. He wonders what it would be like if this was his life all the time.

But by the time they’re four episodes in Rick notices that Wolf is shifting every now and then beside him. Like he can’t quite get comfortable. He set his second soda down on the coffee table in front of them a while ago too and hasn’t touched it since. Rick doesn’t comment or intervene, though he does eye him pointedly when he gets up to use the restroom himself. It seems that his RIO is determined to put off the inevitable. 

Eventually, his wriggling becomes distracting, especially because he’s started nibbling at his plush lower lip. Before he can talk himself out of it, Rick pauses their show and reaches over to drag him into his lap.

“Hollywood, I need to—“ he protests, cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, but he doesn’t pull away as Rick rearranges them so they’re facing each other; Wolf’s long legs kneeling on either side of his thighs, his hands clutching at Rick’s shoulders to help keep his balance. 

“I know,” he says, running both hands up and down his RIO’s sides as though soothing a spooked horse. “But the goal isn’t to hold it, remember? You’re supposed to be avoiding doing yourself any more damage today.”

He can’t tear his gaze away from the blond seated in his lap even as Wolf keeps his eyes pressed closed tight like he’s too embarrassed to look at Rick. The rapid rise and fall of his chest where he’s clearly nervous, the weight of him against his thighs, the flush staining his cheeks.

There’s a cute little bulge in his lower stomach, visible through his t-shirt, and Rick presses on it gently, rubbing small soothing circles. Wolfman gasps, leaning forward to hide his face against Rick’s neck, and he reaches up with his other hand and tangles his fingers in his soft blond hair, holding him close.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “let it out.”

Wolf shudders, still clinging to Rick as he writhes against him like he’s trying but his body is refusing to let go. Then all of a sudden Rick can feel the padding expanding against his thighs as it grows warm. Has to bite his own lip to stop the moan that almost takes him by surprise, glad that the younger man can't see him where he's hidden himself away.

His RIO is boneless in his arms, slumped against his chest and trusting Rick to hold him up as his bladder empties itself. He moans quietly in relief, a breathy little thing pressed into his skin, and a shiver runs down Rick’s spine. He’s not sure how long it lasts, probably only thirty seconds or so at most, but it feels like time is dilating around them. A single sob drags Rick from his thoughts then, and he sits up more so he can better see the pretty blond curled up in his lap. He’s still trying to hide his face, but he’s shaking a little and his hands feel a bit trembly where they’re clutching at Rick’s shoulders.

“Hey, look at me, Leo,” He tells him firmly and uses a careful hand under his chin to redirect him. When his eyes meet Rick’s they’re wide and panicked. “None of that, hm? We performed a stress test on a piece of combat equipment.”

That gets a laugh out of his RIO, even if it is a little choked. Rick hugs him tightly, letting him tuck his face back into his neck, hiding from the world for a few moments. Well, he thinks, even if the method of testing was a little unconventional, at least they know they work.

“You want to shower?” He asks softly, and feels Wolf nod against him, says “go on then. There should be clean towels in the bathroom closet. I’ll tidy up here.”

It takes a few minutes for Wolf to detach himself though, standing on wobbly legs and only reluctantly letting go of him. Rick knows the feeling, he'd have liked to keep him bundled up in his lap a little longer but... there's no good way to say that without showing your hand, right?

Instead he collects the trash and washes their cups and plates as a distraction while he waits, but that only takes a few minutes. He guesses Wolfman might be in the shower for a while. And Rick has been ignoring how hard he is since it happened.

He stands at the kitchen sink and palms himself through his sweatpants, hissing slightly when the sensitive head of his cock brushes against the front seam. He pauses briefly for an intense internal debate about the ethics of this, but his resolve only lasts a few seconds and then he’s tugging the waistband of his sweats down and freeing his aching cock.

He watches as his cock bobs back against his stomach, leaving a drool of precum glistening on his shirt. There’s lotion beside the sink, a two-set of hand soap and lotion bottles that came as a double pack in the store, and he uses it to slick his cock up firmly, dragging the circle of his fingers from root to tip. 

He strokes himself and thinks about the way Wolf let himself be manhandled. So pliant for him, so willing to do as he was told. He pictures the blond whimpering in his lap in those moments before he lost control, the way he clung to him, looking for reassurance.

He speeds up his strokes then, trying to recall the breathy little gasps Wolfman made, the way he writhed against him. How when he finally lost control he made those sweet little moans, and gave himself over to Rick, trusting him to hold him upright, to keep him safe. 

He remembers the feeling of the warmth spreading over his thighs, the way Wolf sobbed and trembled, and Rick comes all over his hand. His orgasm punching out of him and leaving his legs shaky.

He washes his hands in the kitchen sink with almost clinical efficiency and drops heavily onto the couch to wait for Wolf to finish showering, dragging the blanket from the back of the couch over him. He tries not to think about what he just did.

When he returns, Wolf is redressed in the same clothes as before and, from the vague outline under his sleep shorts, Rick is pretty sure he knows what he’s wearing, though he doesn’t comment on it. He looks indecisive and Rick lifts the blanket in open invitation. Relieved, the blond slides in next to him, then turns sideways to throw his legs over Rick’s lap and burrow into his side.

Rick hits play and they get through a couple more episodes before he hears the other man’s breath even out, head leaning heavily against his chest. When he peers down at him, Wolf is fast asleep and so Rick flicks the VCR and television off. 

He doesn’t move right away, content to watch how the lamplight plays over the blond’s cheekbones, his parted lips, and the faint spray of freckles over the bridge of his nose. He’s pretty, features almost delicate in sleep. He wonders what it would be like to kiss that plump lower lip, to trace over those freckles with his fingertips. 

He doesn’t though. Instead, he stands slowly, scooping Wolf up with him, and hustles them both off to bed. It’s not exactly easy, Rick may have a good forty pounds on him but he’s only an inch or so shorter, all long lean limbs. He wonders if he should start working out more.

Rick hesitates next to the guest room door, but after thinking it over deposits his sleeping RIO in his own bed instead. It’s big enough for them to both fit even without touching, though he doesn’t think Wolf will mind either way. They’ve done this enough times in the past month or so, after all. At this point, it would feel strange sleeping without the other man curled up beside him.

He tugs the blankets over him carefully, trying not to wake him, and then goes to shut the blinds so they don’t get woken up at the asscrack of dawn when they don’t have to be at work for a week.

“Rick?” A confused mumble and a hand grasping at the hem of his t-shirt stop him from leaving and Rick feels his heart squeeze in his chest.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, smoothing a hand over his hair, soft and fluffy now that the product's all washed out from his shower earlier. “I’ve just got to lock up and get the lights.”

“‘Kay,” he mumbles sleepily, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. He’s fast asleep by the time Rick returns only a few minutes later, but when he slides in beside him it's not long before the younger man is rolling over in his sleep and burrowing into his side.

Rick wraps an arm around him, and it doesn't take long before he's out too.

///

When Rick wakes up the next morning it’s to a warm weight tucked against his side and a blond head pillowed on his chest. 

Wolfman is already awake, he has one of Rick’s hands captured between his own and is playing with his fingers gently. Rick is content to stay here for a while longer and tries to keep his breathing even as he watches the sunlight filter in through the blinds, dancing over high cheekbones and long blond eyelashes. 

After a few minutes, he squeezes the arm curled around the other man, smiling down at him when Wolf realizes he’s awake, dropping Rick’s hand quickly. A blush creeps over his cheeks as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. 

“That was a lot, last night, wasn’t it?” Rick murmurs, his voice still a little hoarse with sleep.

Wolf nods, shifting further up the bed and pressing closer to him until his face is tucked into the curve of his neck and Rick can feel soft breaths against his skin. “Are you ready to talk?” he asks him gently. 

“No,” Wolf whines grumpily, hiding his now-red face against him. 

Rick laughs then, tightening both arms around his RIO and squeezing gently. “I think we may need to anyway.”

“I know.”

“What are we doing Wolfie? What do you want this to be?”

The younger man is quiet, letting the silence stretch between them for a moment until Rick isn’t sure whether he’s going to answer at all. Then Wolf whispers as though admitting to something he doesn't think he's supposed to, “I just want you.”

Rick feels his breath hitch in his throat. The admission takes him by surprise, but the warm satisfaction that fills his chest right after makes up for it. He tips the other man’s face up with a gentle, guiding hand and kisses him sweetly, smiling at the little squeak of surprise he makes. Swallowing his pretty noises as he kisses him a second and then a third time.

“You have me,” he says when he pulls back for air and runs a thumb over Wolf’s cheekbone, his face nestled in the curve of Rick’s hand. “You have for a while, honestly.”

The blond’s face is a pretty shade of pink and he presses into Rick’s touch, fingertips clutching at the front of the shirt Rick wore to sleep like he’s afraid he’ll vanish if he lets go. “So we’re… together?”

He looks hopeful. Cornflower blue eyes wide, as if he's worried Rick is going to say no. And how could he? How could he deny himself this?

Rick can’t help himself and dips forward to kiss him again. “If you want that, Leo,” he says, between one kiss and the next, nibbling at his plush lower lip. Smiles at the breathy moan he drags out of the blond when he tugs at it a little.

“Yeah,” Wolf pants when he pulls back, looking up at him like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “Yeah, I do.” The blond shoots him a shy glance then, lips red and swollen, hair tousled and pupils dark, nestled in Rick’s arms looking like a wet dream, and admits shyly “I like it when you call me Leo.”

Rick curses and leans over to kiss him fiercely, mostly supporting his weight on his elbows bracketing the blond’s head but pressing his smaller body into the mattress, mouthing at his jaw, his neck, pressing biting kisses to the delicate collarbones peeking out of the collar of his t-shirt. Intoxicated by the small whimpers and whines that slip past his pretty lips and the way he’s clutching at Rick’s shoulders. Rick wants to devour him. 

He eases up after a while though. Much as he’d like to bowl the boy over and fuck him into the mattress, poor, sweet Wolf, Leo, deserves better than a quick fumble. They lay there dozing instead, Leo tucked up against him, his curls brushing against the underside of his chin. It’s a little ticklish but Rick doesn’t mind, not when he’s finally got the man he’s been unable to stop obsessing over for months in his bed, in his arms. And he gets to keep him.

And it's not necessarily going to be easy. Maintaining a queer relationship in the Navy never is. Most of Rick's past dalliances with other service members have been limited to fooling around to burn off stress, adrenaline, or whatever else the flavor of the day is for a reason. Nothing beyond a semi-regular hookup buddy. He's always tried to avoid relationships with other service members because at least if anyone ever were to find out it'd be one career down the pan, not two. But this thing with Leo... Rick has a good feeling about it.

It’s only later—the clock creeping closer to lunchtime and they still haven’t moved—that Rick, feeling braver now, taps a hand against Leo’s padded rear. “Is there a reason you’re wearing these off the clock?”

Leo whines a little, and although he can’t see his face Rick can imagine how deep his blush is. He waits patiently for a few minutes while Leo decides how he wants to respond.

“On the boat, I was worried about us gettin’ called in the middle of the night, ‘specially when we were on alert. Seemed dumb to just throw ‘em out if I hadn’t, y‘know—”, he pauses, and waves a hand uncomfortably, ”—used ‘em.”

“That makes sense,” Rick says cautiously, “and now?”

Because Leo had put one on after he’d showered last night. It was highly unlikely they would be called into work, at least not in such a hurry that they’d not have time to prepare. And they’d already performed the capacity test they’d planned on earlier in the evening.

There was no real reason to do so, and in this situation, Leo couldn’t fall back on the excuse of, well, he’d already been wearing it, so… It had been a choice.

“It’s not like I was plannin’ on usin’ it,” the blond mumbles against his skin where his face is still pressed against the curve of his neck.

“Okay,” Rick nods encouragingly, filing that piece of information away for later.

"You’ll think I’m weird.”

At this point, anything Leo says probably can’t be weirder than the thoughts Rick has been having about him for the last few months, he thinks wryly. He doesn’t voice this idea though. Instead, he says, “try me.”

“They’re comfortable. It feels… safe.”

That’s certainly something. Rick wonders if maybe he doesn’t always feel safe. Whether this is a sensation, a feeling, he’s subconsciously seeking out. He decides then that he will do everything he can to make sure he feels safe, for as long as he is able to do so, and for as long as he gets to have Leo in this way.

But it would probably be too much to tell him this now, to make those sorts of promises and commitments when in reality they've only known each other for a few months. So instead Rick settles for saying “okay,” and presses a soft kiss against the top of his head. Reassuring him with a “for the record, I don’t think you’re weird”, and hugging him tightly.

Well, he wasn’t wrong. In fact, it’s pretty safe to say it should be Leo calling Rick weird. He wonders how you politely suggest to your boyfriend of about five minutes that you really wouldn’t mind if he were to piss all over himself for you.

On second thought, maybe that’s a conversation he should save for later. 

Chapter Text

Things are different after that.

But not too different.

On a sunny Saturday morning in late October, Leo is already sitting at the kitchen table when Rick stumbles in sleepily. His usually perfect hair in disarray, his chest bare, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He brushes a kiss to Leo’s temple on the way past and makes a beeline for the coffee pot. Leo’s eyes can’t help but follow him as he putters around, finding a mug and adding sugar and creamer, the muscles in his back shifting as he reaches up to get the mug from the cabinet. Rick remains oblivious, too focused on his search for caffeine to pay attention to Leo staring at him.

It’s nice, he thinks, seeing the older man like this. When he first met him, Rick seemed so untouchable. Twenty-eight years old, section lead, and running a tight ship down in the maintenance department, responsible for more than fifty enlisted crew members. Hell, he’s probably putting on Lieutenant Commander next year while a few months ago Leo was still an Ensign. But Rick is human too. He’s a terrible morning person and needs coffee just to function, and he snores and his bedhead is ridiculous.

He’s perfect.

It’s been a strange month since Leo moved in with his pilot and never moved back out. The pretense of apartment hunting fell to the wayside after about a week, and the only time he’s actually slept in the guest room was when he’d backseated for another pilot on night quals and hadn’t wanted to disturb Rick after not getting home until almost 0300. Even then Rick had crawled in with him only a few hours later.

But they’ve been dancing around each other for long enough that there are only little changes, really. They’d already been regularly sleeping in the same bed on the carrier for a month, after all, before they made their relationship official. Well, as official as it can be, under the circumstances.

It’s just that now Leo can roll over in the morning and press teasing kisses all over Rick’s face to wake him, or can stand, as he does now, and wind his arms around the older man’s waist while he stares out of the kitchen window sipping at his coffee, lean his forehead between Rick’s shoulder blades and close his eyes. It’s nice. Easy. Rick makes him feel safe.

And if that feeling of safety, security, encourages him to push boundaries sometimes, well. At least Rick doesn’t seem wholly opposed to it.

Which is maybe why later that morning, when they're in a grocery store far enough away from base that Rick doesn’t think they need to worry about running into anyone who can ID them as service members, Leo pushes another one.

They've been here a while and Leo has been steadily ignoring his need for the restroom, wanting to just get through the motions so they can hurry back to the relative safety of the apartment. Even if no one is hiding around the corner waiting to slap him with a DD214 for his overly familiar relationship with his pilot, he still worries.

So he knows he needs to go, but ignores it in favor of getting through their list quickly. Distracting himself by looking over the shelves and mentally checking off items as he goes.

Everything goes wrong when they linger a little too long in the freezer section though, the chill raising goosebumps on his skin and doing funny things to his tummy. It's nothing major, and probably won't even be noticeable if Rick were to see it later, but the loss of control, just for a few seconds, is enough for a small spurt to escape into the softness of his diaper.

He feels his cheeks flush a little, and hopes that if Rick notices the pink tinge to his face he'll put it down to his reaction to the cold, and not because there is a sudden golf ball-sized patch of warmth in his underwear. Especially because Rick likely doesn’t know he’s wearing ‘protective undergarments’ right now, the combination of a loose pair of jeans and a borrowed hoodie a size too large shielding him from the world.

The minor loss of control offers little in the way of relief though, and as he shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other, he resigns himself to not being able to hold it for much longer. Especially with the way the head of his cock is pressed against the wetness, making it harder to hold on. Like the reminder he has already leaked, just a bit, is enough to persuade his body that it’s okay to give in.

The rest of the groceries can wait, he decides, for now, the search for a restroom is a much more pressing issue. After all, just because he's wearing a diaper doesn't necessarily mean he was planning on using it, right?

"Ah, 'm just goin’ to the restroom, okay?"

Rick raises an eyebrow and is perhaps wondering if Leo is merely hinting they should take the opportunity for some fun in a place no one knows them, where they're anonymous. It wouldn’t be the first time in the last month that they’d snuck off to make out in a closet somewhere, or the back of a movie theater.

"I'll come with you."

Leo has no good reason to protest, not without raising suspicion, and so Rick follows him as he goes searching for the nearest toilet.

He wants to rush but forces himself to slow down to avoid scrutiny from both Rick and any other shoppers. It’s difficult though. With every step he takes he dribbles a little bit, just drops really, but he’s worried it will escalate since he can’t hold himself in public. He wants to though and wishes he could grab at his cock tightly to help keep everything inside.

When they make it to the front of the store he stands and waits awkwardly while Rick tucks the cart into the holding area, does his best to remain still, and not alert his pilot to how desperate he is. His breathing is noticeably more shallow now though, despite his best efforts, as he tries to avoid taking breaths deep enough that his bladder presses uncomfortably against the belted waistband of his jeans.

Rick follows him into the disabled toilet and crowds him against the wall as soon as the door is closed, leaning down and caging him between his strong arms, kissing him deeply. At first, he ignores Leo’s half-hearted pleas to move away as he struggles with the belt he’d had to pair with the otherwise loose pants, that is, until he whines, his hips jerking without his permission as he dribbles again.

Rick gets the idea then and tugs his jeans down for him, revealing the soft white bulge of his padded crotch. He doesn’t look too surprised to find that Leo is wearing it, which probably should tell him something, but the fact that he’s used it is another matter entirely. He knows it’s not much—it's obviously only a little damp, really it is—but Leo knows the moment Rick realizes when he looks up sharply to meet his eyes.

"You're a little... wet?"

Leo flushes. He shifts from one foot to the other impatiently, still doing his best to avoid squirming even as he clamps down with everything he has. It's hard, he thinks liquid might just come bursting out of his nose were he any fuller.

Rick fixes him with a gentle look, something indiscernible in his eyes when he asks "what happened? Did you think you could hold it?"

Leo bites his lip and nods before he responds, shame momentarily kept at bay by his need for release. "Yeah. C’mon Rick,” he gestures in the direction of the toilet.

"Well, that's what these are meant for, isn't it? And you’re already wet so…” Rick trails off, still not moving away. His eyes are stormy and impenetrable, and Leo wishes he knew what he is thinking.

He can't hold it back for much longer. He feels his muscles waver with overexertion, his bladder contracting without his permission, and another spurt—longer this time—escapes him. Whimpers quietly as warmth spills around his cock and balls while he grabs at himself and fights to get the leak back under control. He can't make it stop all the way though, and can feel himself dribbling a little every few seconds.

Rick sees it, the way the damp patch spreads on the front of his diaper, and the indicator fades a little more. He lifts an eyebrow and Leo knows his own cheeks are stained red. He’s not sure if he wants to cry.

He’s pissed himself in front of Rick before, but this is different. This isn’t Leo having an accident in-flight because there are no restrooms available and they’re stuck twenty thousand feet in the air. They are on the ground, in a store with available toilets, and yet without the protection offered by the garment wrapped around his waist Leo’s pants would be decidedly wet by now.

He gasps as he feels a slow continuous trickle start with no further warning. Fumbles with the tapes on the side of the diaper in his urgency, trying to jerk past Rick toward the toilet. But Rick cuts off his attempt to remove it and tugs him back against his own chest; one hand pressing against the cut of his abs, the other cupping the front of his rapidly dampening crotch.

"Ricky!" He panics, struggling against the loose hold. Because even if it was too late he could have at least tried to get some of it in the toilet, right? Maybe then it wouldn’t count as a complete accident. This isn’t fair!

But Rick ignores his mewling pleas and presses down gently on his tummy, right over his bladder. “Let go before you hurt yourself," he says roughly in Leo’s ear, and even if Leo wanted to, he couldn't hold it back now.

Leo, his cheeks burning, realizes he can hear the loud hissing sound as he floods his undergarments with warmth. Piss pattering against the front of the diaper as he leans his weight against the muscled chest at his back, his own legs turned to jelly, unable to support him.

It seems to go on forever, though really it can’t be more than a minute or so before he’s empty. He stays there for a few moments to recover though, hands clutching at Rick’s forearm where it’s wrapped around his middle, holding him upright, his eyes squeezed closed tight so he doesn’t have to look down at himself. Too ashamed to look at the mess he’s made of himself.

After a few minutes, he regains the strength in his limbs that apparently deserted him. When he feels like he's able to stand unaided he shrugs Rick off and hunches his shoulders protectively as he tugs the diaper off and tosses it in the trash. Dampens a few paper towels in the sink to clean himself off as best he can, scrubbing furiously at his skin.

"I'll go out to the car?” Rick’s voice is still gentle as he asks, and for a moment Leo wishes it wasn’t. Wants Rick to be mad, to tell him that this was wrong and bad and shameful. To ask why he waited too long, why he was even wearing it in the first place when they were not working today. But of course he doesn’t, because he’s Rick. Instead, he strokes Leo’s back comfortingly and asks if there is something to do to help. Leo doesn’t deserve him.

And he knows why he asked, knows that their ready bags are in the trunk of the car for when they’re on alert and that Leo’s has spares hidden in one of the inside pockets. Because he can’t control himself, can’t be trusted in a jet without being padded like a leaky toddler.

He still prefers them to fighting with the piddle packs though.

He shakes his head, embarrassed, and tugs his jeans into place with more force than is strictly necessary before storming out to go and find the cart. Rick doesn’t mention it for the rest of their grocery trip, giving Leo space to calm down. It sort of helps, but it doesn’t quiet the buzzing in the back of his head that says surely there is a limit to Rick’s tolerance. Questions whether this is what will finally push the other man away.

When they get home Rick lets him help carry the groceries inside, but then pushes him gently in the direction of the bathroom to shower while he puts them away. Leo only protests a little. His jeans are starting to chafe uncomfortably, after all, and he doesn’t want to get a rash.

He showers quickly, trying not to think about the events of that morning. Closing his eyes, he focuses on the grounding pressure of the water against his skin, the smell of his lemon-scented body wash, and the faint sound of music from the kitchen where Rick has turned on the radio. If he lets himself think too much he’ll start to panic so he tries not to think at all.

It makes him nervous though, when he leaves the bathroom wrapped in a soft fluffy towel to find Rick sitting on the bed waiting for him. Is this it? When Rick decides he’s had enough of him and asks him to leave?

He doesn’t look mad, but that doesn’t stop Leo’s stomach from tying itself in knots.

Rick must see something of his panic on his face, because he reaches out a hand and tugs him down to sit next to him, letting him lean into his side. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes while Leo soaks up his steadfast presence, his body heat through his thin t-shirt warming his bare skin. It’s almost enough to make him drowsy, cuddled into Rick like this, the smell of his sandalwood and pine aftershave familiar and comforting.

“We need to talk about this Leo,” Rick says gently, running a hand back and forth over a towel-clad thigh.

And he sort of wants to crack a joke, to fall back on the bumbling, laughing character he's crafted for himself. Sometimes it's easier to be Wolfman than it is to be just Leo. People like Wolfman more than they like Leo. But Rick deserves better than his deflection. So he nods and closes his eyes, unable to look at his pilot, his boyfriend, his wonderful, perfect Rick who is so good to him. Who makes him feel safe. Who has done nothing but be kind and understanding and tolerant of his faults.

“Did you want to have an accident today?” Rick asks, keeping up the soothing motions.

“No!” Leo retorts indignantly, automatically, though he can feel his face heating. Pauses and mumbles “well, maybe…”

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? If he’d not been wearing protection, would he have held it as long as he had? Or would he have gone to the restroom sooner? Would he have waited until it was almost too late? Would he have let Rick manhandle him in the restroom, or ignored him and pushed him away? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

“When I,” he pauses, “when I had those incidents in the jet it was embarrassin’, outta my control. And after, when I had the—the protection—I still didn’t want to use it. It's just now people don’t hafta know when it happens.”

“And this, today, was different?” Rick’s voice is still gentle. Not accusatory, like he just wants to understand.

Leo doesn’t know how to tell him that he doesn’t understand either.

Because he hadn’t gone to the store intending to have an accident. But in the moment it had been a little exciting, if embarrassing. But that had been before Rick had noticed.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I coulda left and gone to the restroom. Not like when we’re in the air.”

“Let me check if I understand this right,” Rick says carefully, but he also hugs him tightly and Leo sinks into it with relief. “You liked it when you lost control, but only because you were choosing to give it up?”

That sounds right to Leo. It was different because he could have stopped holding at any time and run to the restroom. Not like in a jet when his only options are to either make it back to the ground or hold it until he loses it anyway.

Plus, now that he’s had time to process, he can recognize that his tummy feels funny when thinking about losing control like that in front of Rick. While he held him tight and told him to just let go, to stop fighting it. To give himself over to another person like that isn’t something he could’ve imagined wanting only a few months ago, and yet.

So Leo nods and ducks his head shyly. Tells him “an’ it was hot when ya told me what to do.”

“Christ, Leo,” Rick breathes, sounding like it’s been punched out of him, his hand clenching where it’s still resting on Leo’s thigh. “Is it just the diapers?” He asks, after a few moment’s consideration.

Leo shakes his head. “No, I think I'd like it when you told me what to do, even without them—“

He hesitates, not able to look Rick in the eye. Because it’s not that he likes them per se, it’s not a paraphilia—not like that guy he met during college who loved jerking off to women’s shoes—but imagining doing anything like today without wearing one sounds terrifying.

“—they just make it easier, safer. No one knew.”

His worries resurface then and he scrambles to ask “you’re not mad, are you?” Searching Rick’s handsome face for any indication of disgust. “I mean, ya didn’t seem mad earlier but I know it’s gross ‘n—“

Rick laughs a little at that, “Leo I am having a lot of complicated feelings right now, but I promise you none of them are me being mad or thinking that you’re gross, sweetheart.”

Leo’s tummy flip flops because on the one hand, Rick is still calling him sweetheart, is still hugging him, and doesn’t seem to think he’s disgusting or awful or bad, but on the other hand he’s laughing at him. “Don’t laugh!” He whines, batting at the older man’s shoulder, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Rick leans down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, just a short brush of lips. “My boyfriend just told me he likes it when I order him around and make him piss himself for me, Leo, give a guy a second to process, yeah?”

“Oh.” That does sound reasonable when he phrases it like that.

They sit there in silence for a few minutes. Leo’s chest still feels a little fluttery with anxiety, but being close to Rick is helping. The buzzing in the back of his head that whispers he’s bad, wrong, is quiet when Rick hugs him like this, and smooths careful hands over his bare skin. Doesn’t judge him for wanting to be held and coddled.

“Is it only the bathroom control?” Rick asks, non-judgmentally, just curious, dropping a gentle kiss against Leo’s temple in reassurance after asking. One kiss, one question Leo thinks, keeping a mental tally.

“No, but you already tell me what to do a lot. Maybe just—“, Leo shifts a little, nervous, uncertain how to explain what he wants and unable to look at Rick, “—maybe keep doin’ that.”

“I do, huh?” Rick grins, poking him in the side and making him squirm away from him. “Maybe we can try some stuff.”

Leo does turn to look at him then, his handsome, perfect boyfriend, and searches his face for any hint of disgust. “You really don’t mind it?”

“It’s hot, sweetheart. As long as we lay some ground rules and communicate what we’re both comfortable with,” Rick shrugs, “we’re both consenting adults and it’s no one else’s business but our own.”

“Rick…” Leo breathes, staring at him.

Rick tugs him into his lap then, the towel long forgotten, wraps his arms around him and hugs him tightly, and Leo closes his eyes and lets the rest of the world outside of this little bubble fall away. “I just want to make you happy Leo,” Rick says, pressing his face into his hair.

“You do,” Leo says, clutching at the warm arms wrapped around him with both hands, “you do, you do, you do.”

///

Leo isn’t quite sure what he was expecting to happen after that. 

Maybe not some dramatic shift, per se, their relationship suddenly transforming into something kinky overnight. Like a switch had suddenly been flipped. But not nothing either. 

Rick, however, seems determined to let Leo set the pace. And while that’s very nice of him in theory, and he’s wonderful and patient and kind and everything Leo never even dared to hope or dream of having in a partner, the simple fact of the matter is Leo has no idea what he’s doing. 

Rick at least has the benefit of experience, and while Leo gets the impression that they are exploring certain new territory together regarding specific kinks, the other things, like being more dominant in bed, are clearly not new to him. They’d had a conversation about hard and soft limits, and safe words, and appropriate boundaries when they aren’t at home, and Leo had blushed and stammered his way through it while it became very apparent that Rick knew what he was talking about. 

But now Rick, handsome, caring Rick is treating him so sweetly, letting him decide how fast and in what ways he wants this to progress, and it’s driving Leo a little nuts because he doesn’t know what comes next. He doesn’t know how to do this. He just sort of wants Rick to take that decision out of his hands. 

A little hysterically, he finds himself wondering if he should just take a half day at work and handcuff himself to the bed ready for when Rick gets home. 

Halloween presents an opportunity.

Leo had made the decision when their CO had voluntold the whole squadron that they’d be helping out with the base trunk or treat for the kids, and one of his colleagues had started throwing out costume ideas. Obviously, he’d said, Wolfman has to go as a werewolf. More like a wolf cub, one of the older guys had said, no doubt a minor dig at Leo’s age. 

Really, he gets it, he’s at least a few years younger than most of the other new junior Lieutenants, graduating a couple of years early will do that. But it had given him an idea. And so he’d acquired two versions of his costume, making sure Rick saw exactly what he purchased when they went over to Party City to choose them. Though Rick didn’t comment on his choices, which Leo was more than a little grateful for. 

The first was the usual sort of monster werewolf getup, and that was the one he wore to the trunk or treat. In retrospect, this was a huge mistake, because the rubberized mask was hot, itchy, and hard to breathe in, and he’d had to bow out after less than an hour.

The second was rather less family-friendly.

Which was why Rick had come home from the store on the 31st when he’d gone out to grab snacks and drinks for their monster movie marathon, to find him naked on their bed wearing only a pair of fluffy clip-on wolf ears, a collar, and a tail plug. 

Leo had been anxious all day about actually following through with his plan, so Rick’s reaction comes as something of a relief when he wanders into the bedroom looking for him and promptly swears colorfully.

“Holy shit, Leo,” he says, mouth agape, once he’s recovered the use of his brain.

Nervous and blushing under Rick’s intense gaze, he shifts a little on the bed. “Is it… okay?”

Rick walks over to stand next to the bed, reaching out to brush gentle fingers through his hair, careful not to dislodge the ears. “Yeah, yeah it’s okay,” he reassures him, leaning down to kiss him. Leo sighs when he pulls away, letting himself fall back against the pillows while Rick continues to stare at him. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d actually go through with it, to be honest,” Rick says, gesturing at the collar and then the tail where it’s poking out between his spread thighs. “Can I?”

Leo nods and blushes furiously when Rick pushes him to roll over, kisses over his thighs and cheeks, and presses gently at his rim where his greedy hole is stretched around the plug. He makes a startled yelp when Rick gives the tail an experimental little tug, the plug brushing against his prostate. 

Rick chuckles darkly at his reaction, petting over his ass and thighs until Leo has had enough and wriggles away, the sensation starting to feel ticklish against his bare skin. 

“Let’s start our movie marathon?” He asks, looking up at Rick beseechingly.

Rick eyes him with raised eyebrows. “This is your Halloween movie marathon outfit?”

He nods defiantly, wrapping his arms around his bare midriff protectively under the scrutinizing gaze. Rick snorts in disbelief and shakes his head, looking at him fondly. “Only you, sweet boy. Come on then.”

Leo follows Rick back to the living room where he’s set the bag of snacks and sodas on the coffee table ready. He hovers nervously while Rick shoves the first tape in the VCR, unsure where to sit, or how far to take the costume when what he really wants is to cuddle with his boyfriend. 

Rick makes the decision for him, tugs him down by his wrist, and says “c’mere, you’re gonna get cold otherwise,” and so he gets comfy on Rick’s lap, gasping a little as the plug shifts inside him. He flushes when Rick laughs warmly in his ear, pulling Leo back against his chest so he can wrap his arms around him and press gentle kisses against the back of his neck, making him squirm down on the plug. 

Rick doesn’t tease him for long though, just until the intro sequence has finished playing and their first movie of the night starts. Some sci-fi horror flick about aliens coming to Earth to kidnap and procreate with humans that Rick has seen before. It’s silly enough that Leo can get into it, but not scary enough that it’s going to make him jumpy and too jittery to sleep later. 

Toward the end of the movie, Leo starts to shift uncomfortably. He didn’t use the restroom earlier before Rick came home and he’s drunk several cans of soda in the last hour or so. It’s not urgent, not yet, he’s just starting to feel a little full and bloated. But right when he’s thinking about sliding off Rick’s lap and going to use the toilet, his boyfriend squeezes the arms wrapped around his middle, keeping him in place.

“D'you think you can keep holding it for me?” Rick murmurs. His lips brush against the back of Leo’s neck, right above the dog collar that’s snug around his throat, and Leo shivers a little and nods. He wasn’t sure if this is where their evening was going, but if this is something Rick wants too…

He settles back against him, a warm feeling in his chest when Rick strokes his hands soothingly up and down his arms, keeping the pressure firm and grounding. It’s easy like this to give Rick things he knows they both want. Rick makes it easy. 

He has to get up to change out the movie for another when it ends, picking one at random from the stack Rick had brought home from the rental store. He shuffles from one foot to another while he does so, trying to keep his hands away from his cock since the whole process, taking the old tape out and putting it away, and inserting the new one, would go so much slower one-handed. 

He scampers over to flop back on his boyfriend’s lap when he’s done, groaning as the plug he’d mostly forgotten about shifts against the pressure of Rick’s thigh and grips at his cock for a few minutes until the sudden spike of desperation it brings passes. Rick’s laughter in his ear makes him shudder a little, and he turns to nuzzle his face into his boyfriend’s neck as the movie’s intro sequence starts in the background. 

He’s not able to pay as much attention to this one as the last, concentrating on staying still so he doesn’t spoil the movie for Rick while sipping at the Cherry Cola the other man keeps feeding him, tilting the can against his lips so he can take little sips. Soon he has to keep a tight grip on his cock just to avoid leaking. 

By the time they’re halfway through the movie Leo can no longer stay still, no matter how hard he tries, and Rick leans down to murmur “I bought something after I saw you choose your little get-up here. You think you’re okay with trying it out?”

He nods, a little confused, but he slides off the couch onto the floor so that Rick can get up and pause the movie. Stays kneeling there while he waits for him to go and retrieve whatever it is from the bedroom. No matter what it is, he trusts Rick and knows he won’t be offended if Leo backs out and changes his mind once he sees it.

Oh. He flushes brilliantly when Rick returns, and can feel his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning as he eyes the items Rick’s holding, looking at him curiously with one eyebrow raised clearly waiting for an answer. 

Puppy training pads.

Leo has never had a dog of his own but one of the guys at the Fleet Replacement Squadron in Pensacola had a puppy. He knows what they're for.

He nods and wishes he could let go of his cock long enough to hide his face behind his hands, settles for staring at the ground and avoiding Rick’s gaze instead. 

Rick lays them out on the ground in front of where they’d been sitting, then hits play on the remote. Returns to his position on the couch and pretends to focus on what’s happening on screen, giving him the choice of whether or not he’s going to go through with it. Leo shuffles over to kneel on the white padded surface, sitting back on his heels and leaning against the couch at his back. 

He gets used to it after a few minutes. It helps that Rick is still touching him, providing a grounding presence. His fingers stroke through his hair and brush over the collar at his throat every now and then. 

They make it through another twenty minutes of the movie, a group of sorority girls drunk at a Halloween party deciding to go find a haunted house, before it happens. Leo gasps as he leaks, the head of his cock dribbling a little on the absorbent pad spread beneath him.

His little gasp draws Rick’s attention, and he leans forward so his mouth is close to Leo’s ear when he murmurs “what’s the matter, cub?”

Leo doesn’t reply but his cheeks are burning, and he refuses to look down at the wet patch between his thighs. Rick notices it anyway though, or maybe he just knows Leo well enough to know what must have happened.

“Hold it, sweetheart,” he says, leaning back but still running his fingers through Leo’s hair, tugging gently as a warning. “C’mon, don’t you want to be a good boy and behave for me?”

Leo nods desperately. He very, very much does. Especially because he knows Rick will praise him if he does. It’s just that he’s also very, very full, his poor tummy is distended now and his bladder is aching, begging him to let go, just a bit, no matter how tightly he clutches at his cock or squeezes his thighs together.

On-screen the group of sorority girls are now moving slowly through a haunted house, and one becomes separated from her friends. She enters a mirror maze that seems to have been half flooded with a smoke machine, the cool blue light from the screen flickering on the walls of the living room. 

Leo had chosen this movie at random and he thinks, a little hysterically, he probably should have chosen better. This is more Rick’s idea of a good movie than his, he doesn’t like slasher movies much because they make him jumpy and give him nightmares. 

His breathing picks up speed when he hears a mechanical revving start. The girl on screen is on edge too, hurrying through the maze faster as the sound gets louder, drawing closer. Bouncing off mirrored walls and seemingly changing direction at random.

The jumpscare takes them both by surprise. 

As she rounds the next corner a shadowy figure carrying a chainsaw is waiting for her, and as the girl on screen screams Leo’s whole body jolts, his cock leaking uncontrollably now.

He whimpers and tries to get it under control, his body trembling with both adrenaline and exertion. Rick slides to the ground behind him and reaches around to hold his aching cock for him, aiming it down at the pad between his knees. 

“You can go,” he says roughly, right next to Leo’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. 

Even if Leo hadn’t been given permission he doesn’t think he could carry on holding anyway. The jumpscare was too much and he doesn’t think he could stop leaking if his life depended on it.

“Seems you need to get better at holding it,” Rick murmurs from behind him. “Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll practice.”

Leo closes his eyes as the sorority girl meets an untimely end. Slumps back against his boyfriend, panting lightly and his thighs still trembling as he empties his bladder, Rick holding his cock for him while Leo clutches at his forearm with shaking hands. He shivers partly in relief as he finishes going, finally, blessedly empty, and partly in anticipation at the promise in those words.

Rick presses up against him when he’s finally done, and Leo hears the snap of his waistband as he uses his free hand to pull his cock out from his sweats.“C’mere cub,” Rick whispers, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him back until he’s almost sitting on his thighs, Leo’s bent legs splayed on either side of Rick’s. 

He shivers when he feels the fat head of Rick’s cock brush between his bare cheeks, bumping at the underside of the tail plug that’s still nestled inside of him. Then Rick bodily shifts him and his cock slips from between Leo’s cheeks until it’s situated between his thighs, brushing up against his own. He whines a little and grinds down against it, hearing as Rick’s breath hitches in his throat behind him.

“Patience, baby,” Rick whispers in his ear as he wraps his hand around both of their cocks, resting his head on Leo’s shoulder so he can mouth at his neck right over the leather collar he’d almost forgotten about. Leo shudders at the feeling of Rick’s hard, leaking cock pressed against his own, Rick’s hand hot around him, his thumb rubbing slowly over the head of his erection.

“Please,” Leo whimpers, his hips jerking a little even as he tries to hold still, “please, Ricky, please, feels so good.”

Rick groans and slides his hand up and down their cocks with a few rough strokes, thumbing over Leo’s slit where precum has already started to gather, the combination of precum and piss contributing to an easy slide that quickly has Leo letting out breathy little moans, letting Rick support him as his arousal leaves him boneless, unable to sit upright unaided.

He looks down at Rick’s brushing against his own, watching as his boyfriend jerks them both faster and faster, Leo’s cock weeping and twitching in his large hand. The drag of friction is enough to shut his brain off and he feels himself hurtling closer and closer to the edge, his legs trembling and hips twitching as he grinds back against Rick’s thighs where his little wolf tail is trapped between them, the plug shoved up against his prostate.

Rick reaches up with his free hand and pinches at his nipples, teasing the little buds until they’re pink and sensitive and hard, and it’s overwhelming in the best way and Leo can’t help the tears that fall, leaving his cheeks damp and flushed with heat, his whole body like a live wire.

“‘M so close,” he pleads, biting at his lower lip, "Ricky, please, need to cum."

“I love seeing you like this, little cub,” Rick says darkly, making Leo’s whole body shiver, “the noises you make.”

Leo lets out a wet sob, unable to do much else but shake apart in Rick’s arms as he bites at his throat, leaving marks that will hopefully fade before he has to go to work next week, and jerks him unrelentingly.

“You feel good baby? Are you going to cum for me?” Rick asks, speeding up his strokes and thumbing at the sensitive head of Leo’s cock. 

He nods, tears streaming down his face as he pants, hips rutting into Rick’s fist, cock sliding against Rick’s own until finally, finally, he’s cumming. His orgasm washes over him, his eyes rolling back as he sags in Rick’s arms, cum dribbling down over Rick’s hand and his cock.

“Fuck, Leo,” Rick hisses, letting go of Leo’s softening cock before he gets overstimulated but not before using his cum to slick himself up. He quickly jerks himself to completion too, biting at Leo’s throat as he cums, watching it splatter on the padded mats beneath them.

They stay there panting roughly for a few minutes, Leo not able to muster enough strength in his limbs to sit up, sagging back against Rick bonelessly. He starts to feel uncomfortable as the sweat and other fluids on his skin cools though, leaving him feeling cold and sticky and gross, and he wiggles a little as his legs start to cramp.

“Think you can get up sweetheart?” Rick murmurs in his ear, pressing gentle kisses to the bruises he’s left on the skin of Leo’s throat.

He tries but finds that his legs are too shaky. He has pins and needles and he can’t sit down properly because of the tail plug so he settles for slumping to the side off of Rick’s lap so at least he can get up. He ignores Rick’s laughter and closes his eyes, burying his head in his arms, and leaning against the coffee table in front of him. Leo will figure it out at some point. Maybe. Eventually. 

Maybe he can just take a nap here first? 

Gentle fingers probe at his rim and he whimpers, though he quickly realizes Rick is just helping remove the plug so he can sit properly and he sighs in relief. Rick tosses the tail down on the puppy pads next to him, it will need a wash if he intends to keep it. He might like that, he thinks, his cheeks pinking a little at the thought.

“Put your arms around my neck,” Rick says, leaning down to press a brief kiss to his forehead while he unclips the ears from his hair, careful not to tug it, and sets them on the coffee table. Leo blinks up at him blearily and it takes him a minute to do as he’s told, but then Rick is using firm hands on his waist to help him stand, leaning Leo’s limp body against his own.

“Shower.” Rick nudges him and he nods. It takes them a few minutes to get there but at least he’s mostly regained the use of his legs by the time they do. 

Leo takes the dog collar off and sets it on the bathroom counter before he steps into the shower, the warm water on his skin is a welcome relief, but while Rick’s busy washing his hair he finds his eyes drawn to it. Stares out of the glass door at it sitting there and wonders if maybe he liked his Halloween costume a little too much. 

At least the heat from the steamy shower that's turning his skin a rosy pink helps to hide his blush.

///

November is a quiet month, at least as far as work is concerned.

Leo has been assigned new junior officer duties now that he’s no longer officially in training, which has been a learning curve, but it’s mostly paperwork, learning how to file certain reports, and supervising enlisted members in his shop. Nothing too strenuous so far, although his poor brain is tired of memorizing form numbers and acronyms.

Outside of work though… That is a slightly different matter.

Whatever hesitancies Rick had before seem to have been alleviated a little, and while they’ve stayed away from certain kinks for now, at least Rick is no longer treating him as though he’s made of spun glass. He’s still very careful to check things are okay with Leo before introducing them, and to check in with him regularly, but he’s no longer waiting for him to bring things up.

It really is just as well, Leo thinks, because some things he had not even thought of as possibilities.

“Hmmm? Rick?” Leo blinks awake.

“Morning,” Rick murmurs, kissing him gently and combing through his hair with his fingertips, making him sigh and lean into it.

“Mornin’”, Leo whispers, leaning up to kiss Rick back sweetly, “lucky you’re cute, wakin’ a man like this.”

“Oh I am very lucky,” Rick grins, mouthing over his jaw and kissing gently down his neck, “get to wake up to you each day.”

“Riiiiick,” he protests, blushing fiercely and throwing his arms over his face so Rick won’t see. He laughs at his reaction but doesn’t stop his slow mapping of Leo’s body. 

“What’s up, baby? Don’t want me to talk all sweet to you?” Rick asks–though is it really a question?–while he presses biting kisses along his collarbones in a way that Leo already knows will leave a necklace of bruises that will barely be hidden by his uniform. He shakes his head but doesn’t move his arms away. He somehow still knows Rick is wearing a self-satisfied smirk when he says “thought so.”

Rick shifts so he’s almost laying on top of him and starts moving further down his body, pressing sucking kisses against his pecs and teasing his nipples until they’re swollen and aching. Leo writhes beneath him, small breathy moans escaping without his permission as he feels his cock hardening. Then Rick shifts his weight and a very different need quickly becomes apparent.

Leo sits up a little to press a quick kiss to a surprised Rick’s cheek and says “hang on a sec, I need to go piss first.”

“How about this,” his boyfriend says thoughtfully, before resuming his previous task and kissing down his chest and over his stomach. He’s slow and methodical, barely brushing his lips against Leo’s skin, making him shiver, “I fuck you, and you try and hold it as long as you can?”

He looks up then, staring up at him with his grey eyes dark and piercing, pupils blown wide with arousal. Leo feels his breath catch in his throat. 

“Ricky, that’s…” he breaks off, unable to complete that thought. It’s obscene. 

“Too far?” Rick asks, gentler now. Leaning the side of his face against a bent thigh where he’s laying between Leo’s spread legs, still staring up at him, tracing patterns on his tummy with one hand.

“Maybe? I don’t know,” Leo shakes his head, unsure. It’s not something he’d entirely be against if he were being honest, but it sounds like a lot.

“We don’t have to,” Rick reassures him, dropping small kisses down his thigh, closer to his cock, still looking at him with those hungry eyes. Like he wants to devour him.

“I think I’d like to try.” 

Leo is struck by how vulnerable he sounds when he answers. He didn’t give his voice permission to waver like that or to come out sounding so high and needy. But he was honest, at least. He would like to try, for Rick. 

This is something Rick has asked for, something he has clearly thought about, perhaps even imagined. And Rick is so kind, so understanding and non-judgemental, so careful with Leo and his feelings. Leo wants to be good for him. Wants to give him the things he wants in return.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Rick says slowly. Pauses his ministrations for a moment and waits, still staring up at him, giving Leo a chance to change his mind. He doesn’t. He won’t.

“Fuck, Leo,” Rick swears and dives back in to carry on kissing down to the hollow of his thighs, pushing his sleep shorts out of the way to get better access, ”you’re so perfect for me,” he says, pressing his words into Leo’s skin. 

Leo whines under the praise and Rick tugs his sleep shorts and briefs off entirely, tossing them over the side of the bed somewhere while he fumbles for the lube in the drawer beside the bed. He tugs Leo closer to him until his ass is resting on his bent legs, hole tilted up toward him, then he upends the bottle and drizzles the cool fluid over his rim making Leo whimper in surprise. 

The press of that first finger against him leads to a full-body shiver, Rick gently circling his rim, teasing him a little, before he slides it inside. Leo is still partially stretched from the night before though and it doesn’t take long before Rick is adding another, his greedy hole swallowing up his fingers like it wants nothing more than to be stuffed full.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Rick murmurs, scissoring his fingers into Leo as he moans and arches back into the pillows. “So full for me. Full of piss, going to be full of my cock too, aren’t you?”

He nods, keeping his eyes closed tight, unable to look at Rick as he presses those insistent fingers into him and whispers filth against the soft curve of his belly. 

“You want to be full of my cum too, sweet boy?” Rick asks as he mouths at his navel, and presses gentle kisses against his tummy where he’s so round and full. “Let me fill you up and hold it all inside you, take everything I give you, and be good for me?”

Leo whimpers, trying to focus on the heat building in his crotch rather than the fullness of his bladder, his cock hardening a little more every time Rick brushes over his prostate. He ignores the voice in the back of his head that whispers about how nice it would feel to just let go, that tells him he just needs to relax, to let it happen. But he won’t, he’ll be good for Rick.

When Rick decides that he’s prepared enough Leo whines at the loss of his fingers. It’s easier to hold on without them inside him, but he feels so empty now. It's only the promise of what comes next that stops him from begging him to put them back. Rick’s cock is thick and straining in his hand, drooling precum over his fingers as he swipes his thumb over the head, groaning a little as he smears it down his length. 

Leo bites his lip as Rick presses into him slowly, letting him adjust to feeling more and more full until finally, finally, he bottoms out. He doesn’t move at first, just holds still while Leo clenches and unclenches around him. Eventually, he decides, he’s going to start grinding down against Rick unless he moves soon. 

“If you cum will you be able to hold it?” Rick asks. He’s trying to sound casual but Leo can hear how tight his voice is. 

“Probably not,” he admits, whining and biting at his lower lip as Rick circles his hips a little, his cock brushing over his prostate.

“Then you’re not going to cum,” Rick says sternly, looking him in the eye and holding his gaze. 

He nods wildly. “I know,” he whines, “I just want your cum. Please, Ricky,” he pouts up at him.

Rick swears and his hips twitch with a few experimental thrusts, making Leo whine as they jostle his aching bladder, and then he’s grabbing Leo’s chin and forcing him to look at him. “Say it, Leo.” 

He keens, grinding down on Rick’s hard cock. “‘M not gonna cum, I promise. ‘M gonna be good and hold it.”

“Good,” Rick says and starts fucking into him, snapping his hips against the fat of Leo’s ass, making his whole body jolt and jostling his swollen bladder.

Leo clenches his cock in his fist, still biting down on his lower lip and closing his eyes tightly, trying to hold in the little leaks that want to escape every time Rick thrusts into him, brushing over his prostate. He can feel wetness at the head of his cock, slippery against his palm, and isn’t sure if it’s precum or piss. 

But then Rick gives a particularly hard thrust and Leo squeaks in surprise, opening his eyes and staring at Rick in shock as he spurts over his hand, piss dripping onto his lower belly.

Rick sees his panic and carefully pulls out, but doesn’t move away, just helps him ease his legs down slowly so that Leo can curl up in a little ball and grip his cock tightly, trying not to leak onto the unprotected bed. 

“Do you want to stop now and go to the bathroom?” He asks gently, smoothing his hands over Leo’s arms and shoulders, careful not to jostle him too much. 

Leo nods, but when he moves to stand he feels his bladder spasm, leaking a few more drops onto his hand and thigh, and has to throw himself back into his former position, clutching at his weeping cock desperately. 

Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. 

“Daddy I can’t move,” he sobs in panic, feeling his bottom lip trembling without his permission, his eyes burning.

He’s not sure which part is more humiliating. The fact he’s about to piss all over himself like a child with no self-control, or the fact he’s going to cry about it. 

“What do you need from me, sweetheart?” Rick asks, sounding worried now. His forehead creased a little.

Maybe not so much worried at the situation, Leo acknowledges, but at how much it’s upsetting him. If it were a better moment for doing so Leo would think about how perfect Rick is at this, how safe he feels with him. Right now though, all of his attention is focused on holding back the flood, and not embarrassing himself further. 

“Can you get…” he feels himself flush, unable to finish his request. Just stares up at Rick beseechingly and whispers “like last time, please”. 

Rick knows what he’s asking for though, and is matter-of-fact about it. He retrieves the puppy pads they’d experimented with a few weeks ago from the bedroom closet and lays a few out on the bed, careful to overlap them.

Thankfully he’s quick about it. 

Rick helps Leo to roll over onto them—on his belly with his ass in the air—while he clutches at himself and writhes in place. When he’s positioned how Rick wants him he grinds down against the softness of the pad, trying to get some friction on his dripping cock to help him hold it all in, whimpering at the ache in his tummy.

“You can carry on, now,“ he whispers quietly, glad that Rick can’t see the burn of embarrassment on his face where it’s pressed into the sheets, and he hears his boyfriend curse from somewhere behind him.

“Fuck, Leo, are you sure?” Rick asks, his voice hoarse, stroking a hand gently over Leo’s back gently. He nods. 

Rick is moving then. Climbs back on the bed, kisses down his spine to the swell of his ass then presses back into him, and Leo can feel piss dribble from the head of his cock onto the padded mat beneath him.

He realizes he’s not going to be able to hold on much longer when Rick resumes fucking into him, long smooth strokes that make his back arch and his toes curl every time the head of Rick’s cock brushes past his prostate. Rick presses biting kisses to the back of his neck and the side of his throat and Leo whimpers as several large spurts escape him, soaking into the pad beneath him, making it warm and wet.

This is depraved, he thinks, precum slicking over the head of his cock as he ruts into the warm mess, matching Rick’s rhythm as best he can even as he feels piss dripping from cock each time his boyfriend slams home, jolting his poor overworked bladder. 

Leo shudders when Rick’s cock pushes against his prostate, making it harder for him to hold on, leaking almost continuously when he increases the speed of his thrusts, whining and sobbing as he feels himself hurtling closer and closer to the edge. He’s not even sure if he’s about to piss or cum. Maybe both.

“Ricky,” he moans, sounding fucked out and stupid as his insides are flooded with the hot warmth of Rick’s cum. He flushes bright red when he realizes that’s not the only flood that’s happening, laying there panting as he pisses directly against the soft padding of the puppy pads, pooling under him where his cock is trapped against his tummy.

Rick pulls out carefully, and Leo feels his cum drip out of his loose hole, sliding down the curve of his ass cheek and thigh, joining the mess on the mat below him. Rick grabs another puppy pad from the stack he’d set on the floor beside the bed and sets it on the edge of the bed so he can sit down without making a mess. Leo can hear him moving around behind him but can’t bring himself to get up, his limbs too shaky to shift to his hands and knees. 

He whines when Rick pets through his hair, tugging at his curls a little so he’ll turn his head to look at him. “You didn’t hold it very well, sweetheart. Look, what you did…” Rick says, eyeing the puddle spreading out over the pads beneath him, Leo’s hard cock twitching feebly in the wetness.

He trembles as he climbs to his knees. His eyes water and he bites at his lip as he looks down at the mess, faced with the evidence of his not being able to hold it. His tummy twists in the face of Rick’s disapproval. “’M sorry, Daddy! I tried, I promise I tried!” he pleads, his voice coming out all shaky.

Rick tilts his chin up, forcing Leo to look him in the eye. He doesn’t want to, shame burns in his chest and what he really wants is to run away and hide somewhere no one can see him. “What do you think would be a suitable punishment, sweetheart?” He asks firmly, giving no room for disagreement or protest. Leo will be punished, he just gets the courtesy of deciding how.

And they've already discussed what they're both comfortable with when it comes to punishments, but it's not something they've done yet. Leo likes being good for Rick, he's not... he's not a brat. But there are some things he maybe would like to try. When they'd talked about it his tummy felt all funny like it was filled with butterflies.

“Maybe you could—“, he pauses and wiggles awkwardly, hunching his shoulders and whimpering when Rick won’t let him look away, “—maybe spank me?”

“Is that something you want?” Rick asks carefully, using the thumb of the hand cupping his face to run over his plump lower lip, red and swollen where he’s been biting at it.

Leo shivers and nods. “Not… not too much though,” he hurries to add, looking at Rick beseechingly.

“Not too much,” Rick agrees and looks like he’s hiding a smile. Leo doesn’t know why, it sounds perfectly reasonable to him. But he tugs Leo forward until he’s lying over his lap, and then he’s finally able to bury his head in his arms and pretend he’s somewhere else.

“Ten. Need you to count for me, baby,” Rick says, giving his ass a cursory tap to get his attention and making him whine. “Although,” he pauses thoughtfully, “since you've already pissed, I guess you can cum now if you’d like.”

That certainly gets Leo’s attention, peering over his shoulder at the older man. “I can?”

“Mhmm, but there are rules,” he says firmly, his smile dark and his eyes calculating. "You’re allowed to cum, if you can, but you’re not allowed to touch yourself."

Leo nods in acknowledgment, though he makes several grumpy little noises so that his Rick knows exactly how he feels about the matter. He hears his boyfriend stifle a chuckle behind him and pouts.

When the first strike comes it’s not as hard as Leo was expecting it to be. Just a sharp rap with the flat of his palm against the meat of his ass cheek. Nevertheless, he jerks away from the impact instinctively, the movement of his hips dragging his aching cock against Rick’s thighs.

Oh.

“One,” Leo whispers quietly, wriggling a little until his cock slides into the warm space between Rick’s thighs, blushing thoroughly when he realizes they’re now damp from the piss still clinging to his skin.

When the second strike comes he’s ready, rolling his hips and letting the impact rock him firmly against Rick, whining when he tightens his thighs around Leo’s cock, not trapping it there but providing more pressure for him to fuck into.

“Two,” he gasps, his breathing picking up.

Rick delivers three and four to the backs of his thighs in quick succession, so they’re lightly pink and stinging like his ass cheeks. 

“Three, four,” Leo whines, rutting against him now, his cock drooling precum, slicking the skin between Rick’s thighs.

Rick uses his other hand to stroke gently down his spine even as he picks up the intensity. Five and six are delivered quickly and much harder, making a sharp cracking sound as his palm lands right on the curve of his ass cheeks where they meet his thighs.

“Five, six,” Leo bites out, fucking against him, small gasps and breathy little moans spilling from his lips, his cock drooling precum.

The next two are gentler again, moving back up to the meat of his ass, and Leo groans as he pants out “seven, eight”, his cock leaking precum at a steady rate, the head of his cock almost oversensitized from dragging against the padding of the mat earlier. 

Rick stops petting him gently then and uses his hand to spread Leo’s cheeks as his other hand delivers a sharp rap to his rim and perineum, making a wet sound where his hole is still smeared with Rick’s cum. Leo screams, torn between rutting against him and laying there limply while he recovers. He gasps when Rick pinches his thigh. 

“Count,” he says warningly.

Leo sobs out a “nine,” unable to stop the twitch of his hips. He’s so, so close.

Ten lands sideways across both cheeks and Leo, still sobbing, manages to get out a wet “ten” past the hitching of his breath and the tears running down his cheeks. But Rick doesn’t move his hand away after.

Instead, he slides two fingers into Leo’s puffy hole, his own cum easing the way, curving them to stroke over his prostate and making him wail. Leo can feel his balls tightening as Rick thrusts into him, the pressure from his clenched thighs around his cock sending him closer to the edge with each little twitch of Leo's hips.

It takes less than a minute of Rick’s fingers fucking into him as Leo ruts between his thighs, pressing against his prostate with every stroke, before Leo is wailing "Ricky" and whimpering as he cums all over both of them.

His whole world whites out and he goes limp, vaguely aware that his limbs are trembling without his permission but unable to make it stop. He lays there while Rick strokes through his hair, petting over his sides, down his thighs, whatever parts he can reach. The pressure is nice, Leo thinks, although everything feels a little muted. Like his body is still there but he’s floated off somewhere else.

It takes a few minutes before he realizes he’s crying, his eyes watering and his face damp with tears, taking shuddering little breaths. Rick is shushing him gently, telling him how wonderful he is, how very good he’s been for him. "Pretty, perfect Leo", he murmurs, and it makes Leo’s chest feel warm. He wishes he could tell Rick he loves him too but he can’t quite make his tongue work right now.

He doesn’t know how long they stay there. It probably isn’t very long, he thinks, not even long enough to cool down—at least, he doesn’t think he’s cold even though his body is still trembling—but then Rick is pulling him up into his arms and standing. He yelps a little in surprise as Rick scoops him up against his chest, wraps his legs around his boyfriend's waist as he carries him to the shower, and when the warmth of the water hits his skin he thinks maybe he was cold after all.

He tries to stand when Rick sets him down on his feet, letting him lean against his chest, head tucked against his shoulder, but he’s not sure he’s doing a very good job of it. His legs are shaking and it’s probably only the arm Rick has wrapped around his waist like an iron band that is keeping him upright. He does his best though, closing his eyes and pressing into the soapy washcloth that Rick runs over him, cleaning him thoroughly even though he only has use of the one hand, turning in his arms when Rick asks him to.

He pays special attention to Leo’s hole, making sure to wash his own cum away, and the drag of the washcloth against his rim makes Leo shudder. Rick coos apologetically when Leo makes a quiet noise of protest as the cloth brushes over his sensitive cock. He’s thorough about it though, doesn’t want Leo to get a rash from any traces of ammonia left on his skin, and while Leo would normally appreciate his careful consideration he’s so, so tired, and his body feels so heavy.

When Rick switches to washing his hair it comes as a relief. At least then he lets him stay pressed tightly against him while he massages gentle fingers through his hair, only making him move away slightly when he needs him to tilt his head back to wash it out, so he doesn’t get soap in his eyes. The pressure of Rick’s fingers against his scalp only makes him more sleepy though, and he’s grateful when he finally leads him out of the shower. Wraps him in a large towel and pushes him to sit down on the closed toilet while he climbs back in and quickly finishes cleaning himself off.

Leo just leans back against the wall and dozes, listening to Rick humming to himself under the water, letting him know he’s still there. Everything still feels all floaty and he's not sure how long it is until the water finally shuts off and then he’s standing beside him, toweling himself off quickly.

He kisses Leo gently then and whispers “wait here a sec”, before he leaves the room. He’s not gone for long, maybe only five or ten minutes, but Leo can feel his eyes drooping and has to force himself to stay awake. He manages to do so right up until Rick reappears, dressed in sweats now, and grabs a second towel to dry his hair off for him. 

The warm pressure, the soothing fingers, are almost too much for his tired brain, and Leo leans forward to press his face against Rick’s stomach where he’s standing in front of him, blinks for a little bit too long and the world starts to slip away. 

“C’mon sweetheart,” a voice says, pulling him from his doze. Everything is a little swimmy. A hand tugs at his own, and Leo stands on shaky legs feeling unmoored until a warm arm settles around his shoulders. He follows the voice back to the bedroom, trying to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

Someone carefully helps him step into a pair of briefs and then sweats, tugging them up for him, and then he’s being pulled down onto the bed, magically clear of the evidence of their escapades earlier. A blissfully soft surface. A warm body climbs in after him and he cuddles up to them, drifting away as two strong arms wrap around him, holding him tightly like they’re holding all of his pieces together.

By the time he wakes up an hour or so later, Leo is sprawled over Rick, head pillowed on his chest. Neither of them are wearing shirts after their shower, and the heat of his boyfriend’s bare skin against his own is already making him sleepy again. That could also be the hand brushing gently through his hair though. He nuzzles his face against Rick, ignoring the chuckle that brings him in response.

“You back with me?” 

He feels the rumble of Rick’s voice in his chest as well as hearing it and nods, though he keeps his eyes closed. He feels okay again, less like his atoms are all coming apart, but he’s still tired. Thankfully, there’s no rush—it probably isn’t even lunchtime yet and it's not like they have anywhere to be on a November weekend. Not that Leo is keeping track of the time. He can just lay here for a while and snuggle against Rick and everything is soft and warm and perfect.

Later, when they’re cuddled up together on the couch Rick kisses his cheek to get his attention. “Do you remember calling me something earlier?” he asks, his voice slow and careful, stroking a hand down Leo’s back in reassurance.

Leo tries to think back but it’s difficult, everything felt all slow and a little soupy and it’s hard to hold on to memories like that. Like they want to slip away.

Oh. Oh no!

“‘M sorry,” he squeaks out, his face burning, not able to look Rick in the eye. He does remember now. He remembers exactly how it felt to call his boyfriend that too, while Rick was taking care of him, and making him feel safe and loved and wanted. It’s mortifying.

“Is that something you want, sweetheart?” Rick asks gently, keeping up the gentle petting over his back like he's trying to smooth the anxiety away.

And he doesn't sound accusatory, sounds like he genuinely wants to know and like he won't judge him for how he answers. Does he want that? Leo isn't exactly sure. It's not something he'd ever thought about before beyond a vague sort of understanding that some people are into it, but then, that is no real indication of whether or not it's something he wants.

Hell, this is the first time he's ever actually followed through on properly dating another man as an adult, and that is something he very much wants. There are a lot of things that have been new for him recently and maybe this is just one of them.

And while he maybe doesn't feel like calling Rick that all the time, it had felt right in the moment. It had just sort of... happened.

So Leo squeaks out a “maybe”, biting at his lower lip and fixing his gaze on the painting hung on the wall behind the couch, fiddling with the strings on the front of his sweatpants. At least that way he doesn’t have to look at Rick, even though he’s practically seated in the other man’s lap. “I swear I didn’t plan on it happenin’.”

Rick presses a kiss to his temple, and floors Leo when he says “I need you to know that I’m not against it.”

Leo stares at him then, his face still flushed but his embarrassment mostly forgotten, replaced with amazement. “…You’re not?”

Rick nods, pressing another kiss against the tip of his nose and chuckling a little when it makes him blink in surprise. “I’m not. So even if it’s something you only want sometimes, you don’t have to worry about me, okay? If it's something you want to try we can try it, whenever you're ready.”

Leo still hesitates for a moment, and examines Rick’s face closely, needing to make sure that he is absolutely one hundred percent telling the truth. Eventually, he nods and snuggles back down against Rick’s side. Whispers “‘kay” so quietly that he only knows the other man has heard him when he squeezes the arm wrapped around his shoulders a little tighter and presses a kiss to his temple.

And he's still not sure if it's something he's going to want to try again soon. At least, not consciously. He supposes if it happens it happens. But he's mostly just very grateful that he apparently has the most understanding, wonderful, patient boyfriend on the planet, one who just wants him to feel safe when experimenting with new things.

Sometimes, Leo thinks, he doesn’t know what he would do without Rick.

///

Early December brings new things. It’s Leo’s first holiday season at his new squadron, as well as his first in California, and there’s suddenly a long series of events and parties and booster club fundraisers and cookie drives for the lower enlisted living in dorms over the festive period to prepare for. 

It seems like one minute it’s November, and he’s settling into a new home and a new relationship, and then the next he blinks and it’s almost Christmas. He’s happy too, really happy, for the first time in years. Ever since he first left home to go to college he’d set a lot of his hopes for the future aside, knowing that so long as he was in the Navy he might have to be content with never having a real relationship that lasted more than a few nights.

He wasn’t expecting Rick. What were the chances of being assigned to the one pilot in the Navy who is apparently as kinky and weird as he is? Leo hasn’t believed in God in a long time now, but he wonders if there isn’t some kind of cosmic karma at play here.

December brings other new things too.

Like Rick asking him to come to his office at the end of a work day and then asking him to lock the door behind him when he does. He doesn’t think too much of it at first, not when Rick is there and they’ve been apart for most of the day and he’s just sitting there behind his desk looking all handsome in his khakis because they had an inspection earlier in the day.

Leo shrugs off any apprehension and folds himself into Rick’s arms as he reaches out to hug him. Rick pulls him closer, leaning his head on top of Leo’s, and he can smell his coconut shampoo and the dark spice of his aftershave as he tucks his face against his neck.

He feels the rumble of his boyfriend’s throat when he asks “still dry?” and blushes bright red as he nods fiercely.

What kind of question was that? Well, given his recent track record perhaps it was a reasonable one, but it isn’t his fault. Rick is the one who told him he wasn’t allowed to use the restroom all day but still made sure he took his gallon water bottle to work with him.

“How long since you went?" Rick asks, pulling away so he can peer down at him intently, making sure he’s telling the truth.

“Before work,” Leo mumbles, “when you told me I could.”

“Tease.” Rick laughs, dipping his head to kiss him quickly, just a brief press of lips, “I bet you need to go now, huh?" 

Leo nods again–he does, it’s true–and Rick hums as though he’s considering something. He must have come to a quick decision though because then he’s shrugging, and waving a hand casually in Leo’s direction.

"Okay, go on then.”

Leo is surprised for a moment that Rick has given in this easily, he hadn’t even needed to beg or whine at all, but he certainly isn’t going to protest. It’s been a long day, and he passed ‘comfortably full’ a while back. He smiles gratefully and turns to leave. But Rick reaches out and catches his wrist before he can.

Asks “where do you think you’re going?" not quite sternly, but in that firm way that makes his toes curl in his boots.

Leo looks up sharply at that. Was this a test? Rick had said he could go, after all. He pauses in place, not trying to pull away from Rick’s loose hold on his wrist but unsure now. 

“You told me to go use the restroom?" He tries, shifting awkwardly under Rick's intense gaze.

Rick smiles wickedly at that and says “I told you to go. I didn’t mention anything about the restroom.”

Leo feels the look of panic spread over his face, the way his chest tightens and his breathing picks up, a cold sweat prickling at the back of his neck. Knows that Rick can see his reaction.

“Here?” Leo chokes out, his voice a little hoarse.

Rick doesn’t respond at first, watches and waits for him to collect himself, swallowing a few times and taking deliberately deep breaths as though reminding himself how to breathe. At least Rick has released his hold on him, allowing Leo to move around to the other side of the desk, to pace back and forth a little in the tight space.

“Here,” Rick says then. Laces his fingers together where he’s leaning forward on his elbows, staring at Leo intently.

Leo chews on his plush lower lip, eyes closed, face flushed pink. He nods once, quickly.

It's not... it's not something they've done before. At work like this, in semi-public. At least, not without wearing some sort of protection. Someone could come looking for him or Rick at any time after all and how would he explain it then? Well, he could claim it was an accident but that would raise more questions than it would answer when medical fitness is a concern.

But it is the end of the workday, and most people have left already. Nobody is going to be expecting them to still be here, right?

Okay. Okay, he can do this. He closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to meet Rick’s intense stare, can already feel that he’s shaking a little and folds his arms across his chest to hide his trembling hands, toes his boots off, and kicks them away. 

Leo can’t see him but he hears as Rick stands. The drag of the chair over the linoleum floor, the heavy steps as his booted feet walk around the desk toward him, the sound of his partner’s breathing as he comes to a halt right in front of him. Close enough to touch but not touching.

He tries to relax and let go but it's harder than he thought it would be. He badly needs to go but he’s not quite desperate enough to be at the point of no return. All of the times they’ve done this before, or even when he’s gone in the air, he hasn’t really had a choice in the matter. Held on until he physically can’t do so any longer.

This feels different somehow. Rick wants him to go here, now, on command, and he wants to please him. He likes following Rick’s orders, likes being good for him, and the gentle praise that follows. But this doesn’t feel like he’s being good. He still feels like he has a choice and that he’s somehow choosing wrong; years of social conditioning screaming at him he shouldn’t be doing this, that he should put his boots back on and walk straight out the door. He doesn’t.

He tries again and gasps as the first few drops leak out of the tip of his cock, quickly soaking into the fabric of his briefs. 

Leo hears Rick’s breath hitch but keeps his eyes pressed closed. The minor leak doesn’t do much in the way of relief, but he finds his muscles have locked up tight again, refusing to let him make a mess of himself while he still has any sort of say in it. But he doesn’t have a say in it really.

Rick has already made clear what he expects of him here, and now it’s Leo’s job to do as he’s told. He jumps in surprise as feels a hand stroke over the swollen curve of his lower tummy, Rick pressing gently on his aching bladder, and a longer leak spills out, soaking into the front of his uniform. He whimpers a little as he feels the warmth spread between his thighs, knowing that it has to be visible by now. 

Rick keeps up his slow massage of his tummy though, and it's easier to let it happen now, to lean into the pressure until it's overwhelming and a slow stream begins. He presses his legs together as he sobs, instinctively trying to stop it but unable to do so entirely, the warm wet feeling slowing but still spreading over his legs and running down to puddle on the floor between his feet. His breathing is shaky and he feels helpless, wants Rick to make it better.

Instead, Rick grasps at his crotch firmly, ignoring his squeak of protest, feeling the warmth spread quickly as Leo loses control in his surprise. His briefs are less absorbent than the ah, undergarments, he’s become accustomed to wetting in recently and his khakis are getting soaked, quickly reaching their saturation point so the stream of piss stops running down his legs, and just falls directly to the ground, making a muffled pattering sound against the linoleum.

He feels the tears build in his eyes, partly because he’s embarrassed and partly because he feels overwhelmed.

The pressure in his bladder is quickly decreasing, at least, but he can still feel himself going; the stream turning into more of a trickle. Eventually, it stops and he tries to catch his breath, not realizing until now that he’s been panting heavily. He opens his eyes when Rick makes a sound, but feels the tears he’s been trying to keep in run down his cheeks as he does. 

Blinking up at Rick tearfully he bites at his lower lip and tries to compose himself, ignoring the trembling in his hands by clenching them tightly against his thighs. He’s hard against Rick’s hand though and so he knows Rick probably won’t be inclined to read too much into the tears, but he needs something even if he doesn’t quite know what. 

Rick lets him go then and eyes him thoughtfully. “Take your cock out,” he says, and Leo scrambles to do as he’s told, his hands shaking as he fumbles with his belt and pants. 

He whines when Rick’s hand brushes the head of his cock, his skin heated and sensitive. He feels overwhelmed and overexposed, the wet fabric clinging to his legs still dripping onto the linoleum at his feet, and now Rick’s hand against him. 

Leo can’t help but whimper when Rick squeezes his cock, his hips bucking against his large, warm hand, his boyfriend chuckling darkly at his reaction and squeezing again. Rick jerks him off quickly then and it isn’t long before he’s spilling over his hand, his cum landing in the puddle that has pooled on the linoleum at his feet where it’s soaking into his socks, and it’s too much, way too much, and Leo suddenly wants to hide away somewhere dark where no one can see him. 

He cries properly then, wet sobs tearing from his throat as Rick makes soothing noises and kisses over his damp cheeks. Uses his clean hand to smooth his hair back from his face, then cups it against the nape of his neck, using the leverage to tug him forward until his face is tucked against Rick’s neck again. Letting him hide against his boyfriend's broader form, supporting his weight against a sturdy chest even as Leo leans forward awkwardly so their lower halves don't touch.

He isn’t sure how much time passes, everything has gone slow and strange like his thoughts are molasses to wade through. Rick is humming something though and he focuses on that, the vibration against his skin as gentle fingers brush through the short hairs at the back of his head.

Eventually, he regains enough awareness of his body that he can feel the fabric against his thighs cooling rapidly, and he squirms uncomfortably. Rick pulls away then and tsks in sympathy. “Take those off sweetheart, I have spare clothes in my gym bag.”

Leo strips off slowly, peeling the damp fabric from his skin uncomfortably and leaving it in a little heap. Rick has wipes in his bag—evidently, he pre-planned today—and Leo blushes as he uses them to clean his lower half off thoroughly, aware of Rick’s eyes on him as he wipes the traces of ammonia from his skin. It wasn’t an accident, Rick had asked him to do this, but the cleanup process is the same as if it was, and so the entire thing is just as embarrassing.

Standing here wiping himself clean with his wet things in a tell-tale little pile as if he were a small child unable to control himself.

He finally deems himself clean enough and deposits the pile of wipes he’s accumulated into the trash can next to Rick’s desk, covering them as best he can with the takeout container from the Mess that previously held his lunch. Rick has both a hoodie and a t-shirt in the gym bag but Leo opts for the former. It’s one of his favorite ones to borrow, well-worn and slightly too large on him so that it hits around mid-thigh and he has to push the sleeves up. 

It also happens to smell like his boyfriend so it feels a little like wearing a hug. He can deal with a little embarrassment and discomfort if it means he can tuck his face into the neck of the sweater afterward and breathe in the smell of Rick’s aftershave. 

His boyfriend reaches into the gym bag then to remove an item from a zipped inside pocket, offering it to him almost hesitantly.

”Do you want this?” Rick asks gently, and Leo shakes his head automatically, his face burning as he resists the urge to cover his face with his hands when he realizes what it is. Rick is not dissuaded though, and leans forward to brush a kiss against his temple. “Are you sure about that, sweetheart?”

He knows why Rick is asking. Knows that Rick knows he sometimes likes to wear them even when he doesn’t need to be wearing them. Especially after they do something like this, and he’s left feeling shaky and uncertain and needing comfort, wanting to feel safe and cared for and protected.

Does he want it?

Maybe. But how can he admit to something like that? It’s wrong, he shouldn’t. And yet Rick doesn’t seem to mind. Leo, face still tinged pink, wordlessly takes the proffered item and pulls it in place, snug around him. He pulls Rick’s sweats on over the top so it’s out of sight, tying the strings tightly to make sure they won't slip down.

His boyfriend does hug him then, interrupting his getting redressed to tug him into his arms, squeezing him gently. “Well done,” he says, muffled where he has his face pressed into Leo’s hair, “thank you for thinking about what you need rather than what you think you should want. You’re doing so well."

He squirms a little, embarrassed, and mumbles “Ricky…” but he doesn’t try and dislodge him as Rick peppers gentle kisses against his hairline and down the side of his face. It’s nice, being taken care of like this. Rick thinking about the little things that provide him comfort, like packing his preferred hoodie. Leo loves him so much.

Eventually Rick releases him to allow him to finish dressing and he very reluctantly pulls away from him, wishing they could already be at home so he can cuddle up with him on the couch and not move for the next few hours. There are clean socks in Rick’s gym bag, but his sneakers are far too big for Leo so he puts his own boots back on. Even if they do look a little stupid with his oversized hoodie and sweatpants it’s not like he has to go anywhere important, and it's only a short walk from the work center to the parking lot.

“I’ll take care of this stuff, don’t worry. You can wait in the car if you’d like?” Rick asks, gesturing at the puddle on the floor and his pile of wet things. He blushes but nods. “We’ll get takeout on the way home, okay? You can even pick what we watch tonight.”

“Gee, thanks,” Leo snarks, slowly feeling more like himself again. The waves of that strange adrift, floaty feeling receding until his feet are both figuratively and literally back on dry land.

Rick just rolls his eyes and chuckles “brat”, but he’s smiling fondly and something in his chest loosens, filling him with warmth. 

Later that evening, wrapped in his favorite blanket and sitting snuggly on Rick’s lap on the couch, Leo feels braver and manages to stammer through an admission. “I think, um, I’d rather be wearin’ somethin’ if we do that at work again”. 

It’s not like he’d hated it, but it was a little scary and embarrassing and had left him feeling anxious and unsure in his own skin. Especially with the knowledge of where they were, that someone could see him, that there was a risk their game wouldn't just stay between him and Rick.

“Ok,” Rick says, pressing a kiss into his hair, “thank you for telling me.”

Leo wonders if it could be that easy, to just ask for the things he needs. 

///

The first time it really happens in a place they might be caught, it's a meeting on base in mid-December. The final major one of the year, they’re going to min-manning next week when half the folks will be out on leave anyway, and all the flyers are there. The pilots, the RIOs, their CO, and his XO, all crowded into a meeting room. 

It's not intentional, not really. They'd been expecting a slow day today. Nothing on the flight schedule for them, the weather outside dulling the senses, a heavy mist hanging low in the light of early morning. And so he’d let Rick wrap him up like this, knowing that even if he isn’t planning on using it, sometimes Leo just likes to wear them. Likes the feeling of comfort and safety.

It's not something they do normally. It breaks the boundaries they've set in place. They are not flying today and so they should not be doing this at work. And yet, here they are. Maybe it's just as well he did though, Leo had downed two cups of coffee before they even made it out the door this morning and taken another to go, and the meeting has run much longer than usual. 

He shifts indelicately and catches Rick’s eye from where he’s sprawled beside him. He doesn't think he's noticeably uncomfortable yet. There's no strain showing on his face and he still feels relatively composed, but he knows Rick can tell. Rick can always tell.

He pays more attention to him after that though, and Leo wishes he’d been less conspicuous because now Rick is watching and it makes something itch under his skin.

Every now and then he darts his eyes toward the door, he can’t help it, it’s like a magnet knowing there’s a bathroom just across the hall. Maybe he’ll excuse himself soon? As the meeting drags on the situation is becoming rather dire and he keeps telling himself in just a few minutes he’ll get up and go. He knows that Rick likes it when he holds it like this, lets himself become uncomfortably full, likes for him to wait until Rick gives him permission to go.

But they’re at work and other people are here and he has to excuse himself eventually, right? But Rick hasn’t given him permission yet, though really he should just let him go now so that he can come back and concentrate. It’s getting more and more difficult to do so. He hopes there's nothing too important he's missed.

Leo reaches his breaking point when there is still a good twenty minutes or so left before lunch. He’s sure the CO will stop then, the man hates having his schedule thrown off. He glances over to the door and then back to Rick where he can feel his eyes on him. But Rick shakes his head minutely and Leo has to cover the hitch in his breath with a cough, although he gives no other outward sign of any exchange between the two of them. 

Rick won’t let him go. That was as staunch a denial as he was ever going to receive in a public setting and Leo wishes he could argue with him here, could beg, and plead, and promise to make it up to him later if only he'd let him go now.

This is a dangerous game to play, denying him the opportunity to leave and use the restroom only has one eventual outcome. He knows it, and he knows that Rick knows it too. He considers ignoring him and excusing himself anyway. Wonders if Rick would punish him later for denying his very clear instruction. But what could he do to stop him, here in front of their colleagues? Leo hasn’t been spanked in a few weeks, but that is a problem for the future, and it would at least solve his immediate need.

He eyes the door longingly but turns to look at Rick when he feels a sudden sharp tap on his thigh. His boyfriend shakes his head again as if warning Leo not to push it and be a brat, and he wants to be good for Rick, he does, and this is something Rick clearly wants. He stays seated.

He sees Rick’s lips twist into a smug grin, and Leo knows he’s praising his own foresight. That Leo is here, prepared and ready should such an occasion occur. They didn't plan for this, but that doesn't mean Rick isn't going to take advantage as the opportunity presents itself. 

Leo feels the irrational urge to bite him.

Rick is keeping one eye on the front of the room, and the other on Leo. He can tell. Knows that the older man is cataloging the way he nibbles on the inside of his lower lip, looking for all the world like he’s concentrating on the CO, but it's a stress reaction and they both know it. The clock is nearing lunchtime and they've been in this room for over four hours now. It's the longest he's held it in a few weeks. He eyes the clock then back to the CO’s face, shifting slowly back in his chair, trying to remove some of the pressure from his aching bladder.

He wonders if Rick knows the exact moment it happens. He can’t hold it anymore, no matter how tightly he squeezes his thighs together, not when he can’t do anything else to help stem the flow, can’t even fidget or hold himself to help keep it all inside. The dam breaks and the tension drains from his shoulders, his breath catching a little in his throat as he blinks for just a moment too long, his bladder emptying itself into his undergarments in short sharp spurts.

He's wetting himself in a room full of his peers and superior officers and only Rick knows.

He does his best to remain still, to stay composed, fighting the blush rising on his face and resisting the urge to duck his head in embarrassment as the padding grows hot and wet around his cock, the sheer relief making his toes curl in his boots.

The meeting seems to drag on even longer after, minutes winding like hours as the drone of the CO’s voice becomes a background hum. Eventually, Leo grows impatient with the slowness of the clock, his diaper is starting to cool against him and he doesn’t want to be trapped here for too much longer. It's a relief then when the clock turns to twelve and they're dismissed. 

Rick calls out to Leo as they're leaving the office. “Hey Wolfman, a moment?"

It's nothing unusual, just a pilot and his RIO running over the information they’ve just been presented with, making sure they’re on the same page. Perfectly acceptable, standard operating procedure even. Leo nods and Rick indicates he should enter his office down the hall. 

Rick follows him in and locks the door behind them before turning to Leo, a single eyebrow raised. Asks "let me check? It was a long meeting" as he moves into Leo’s space, not leaving room for protest as he crowds him back against the locked door.

As the long line of him presses into his front, Leo’s hips twitch, grinding forward against Rick’s well-muscled thigh as it slots between his own. As he runs large hands down over his sides to cup his hips, the layers of what lies beneath are not as covert as they usually are beneath his baggy flight suit, swollen with the evidence of his little accident. 

Rick carefully undoes the velcro and unzips his flight suit one-handed, the other pressing against the small of his back, and Leo’s breath hitches a little as he reveals the diaper where it's tinged yellow around his crotch, bites at his lip and blushes profusely. It's not quite as snug around him now, hanging heavier than usual between his legs.

Rick cups a hand beneath his chin, insistently raises his head so they're eye to eye and Leo cannot duck his face away. “What happened, sweetheart?” he hums, and runs a thumb over Leo’s plush lower lip, pulling it away from where Leo has been biting at it. "You couldn't hold it?"

Leo closes his eyes as he feels his cock stir with interest at Rick's words. He couldn't hold it but that was hardly his fault when Rick had refused him permission to go. Still, the way Rick talks about it. He lets his tongue dart out to brush over Rick’s thumb and whines at the loss when Rick moves his hand away. His voice is almost breathy when he finally replies. "N-no."

Strong arms wrap around his shoulders and tug him close, so he can settle his head on Rick’s shoulder, tucked under his chin. "It's alright. If you couldn't hold it, you couldn't hold it," Rick coos, "it's not your fault."

Like he really did have an accident, like he'd had every opportunity to go and use the restroom but had held it too long until he'd had no choice but to go in his pants instead.

Leo closes his eyes while Rick reaches a single hand down to cup him through the padding, pressing gently where the wetness is still warm around his cock. He trembles slightly at the pressure and arches into him.

"Do you feel better now?" He murmurs, and the "sweetheart" goes unspoken, but Leo hears it anyway. It doesn't matter though, it's not an important enough thing to get hung up on, not now, not when there is a strong hand pressing at the dip of his back, pushing his hips forward into Rick’s careful ministrations.

It's almost far too difficult to speak, to get the words out when that insistent pressure is cupping the hardness of his cock. The drag of friction with every flick of his boyfriend’s wrist. He whines quietly, and pants "I feel good" against the hollow of Rick’s throat, mouthes at the soft skin there.

The words themselves feel good in his mouth, tripping over his tongue with his admission that this, yes, he wants this. There's a gentle hum of acknowledgment at his temple before Rick leans down to capture his lips with his own. The kiss is soft and sweet, even as his pilot's fingers do dirty things to his lower half.

Leo humps against his leg, rolling his hips with little jerks, his mouth parted and breathy little sounds spilling from his lips, trying to keep quiet in case anyone should walk past in the corridor. Rick peppers chaste kisses across the sharp lines of Leo’s cheekbones as he moves the hand at his back lower, pressing two digits against his rim through the soft padding of the diaper. Leo keens, a low note tearing free from the back of his throat as he bucks up into Rick. 

He comes in his diaper with a soft gasp, cum spattering against the already damp mess he's made of it, and leans against his partner's strong body as Rick wraps gentle arms around him. He only allows himself to rest there for a few moments though. Too much time has already passed and they will be missed at lunch if they linger too much longer.

Rick takes a moment to tidy his clothes a little, zips his flight suit back up for him, straightens the collar of his shirt, and pushes a few stray hairs back into place. He gives a final pat to the heavy curve of Leo’s diaper through his flight suit, and kisses him quickly, just a brief press of lips against his own.

"You need to get rid of this, you'll be uncomfortable soon."

Leo nods but shifts awkwardly on the spot—preparing to slip back into the role of Lieutenant Wolfe, Wolfman—but not quite there. Not yet. 

"I don't have anything else to wear." The admission is hard for him to make, and a soft flush stains his cheeks as he ducks his eyes away.

Rick—no, Hollywood—takes a step back, tilts his head to one side a little, and smiles softly. Says "locker room, gym bag" as though it should be obvious. Leo resists the urge to laugh because of course. Rick may not have expected this situation to occur, but he would be prepared just in case.

"Will that be all, Hollywood?" He tosses over his shoulder as he leaves, Rick looking at him from under his eyelashes, conspiratorially, where he's now perched on the edge of the desk. He doesn't reply.

Leo hurries down to the locker room, avoiding spaces he knows will be crowded at this hour, since the last thing he needs right now is to run into someone who wants to stop and talk to him. He’s grateful when he finds the locker room empty, most people in the mess for lunch, and grabs Rick’s gym bag from his locker to haul into the toilet stall with him.

There's a smaller bag tucked inside, with wipes and a pair of briefs. He doesn't waste any time, stripping his now clammy undergarment off and stuffing it in the trash, wiping the itch of cum and ammonia from his skin before pulling the briefs on and redressing.

He wonders if Rick will let him use the bathroom for the rest of the afternoon. After all, he’s drunk a lot of coffee already today.

Maybe they can go for round two later.

///

As December winds to an end, their squadron moves to min-manning over the holidays. For Rick and Leo, this means only going to work about once a week up until after the New Year, which Leo is beyond grateful for.

It’s been an intense year, what with graduating from his Fleet Replacement Squadron and immediately deploying to the Nimitz, a new relationship, and moving to Lemoore. His duties now they’re not at sea are completely different to those on the carrier, other than the obvious in-the-air stuff, and so he’s had to learn multiple different jobs and responsibilities in the last few months alone. He’s happy—beyond happy—but he’s also tired.

Plus, he gets to spend his first Christmas with Rick.

He’s surprised, at first, to learn that Rick has no plans to go home and visit family over the holidays. Not that he isn’t excited to spend their first Christmas together, because he is. He really, really is, but unlike Leo, Rick has a relatively good relationship with his family. Some of them are a little stuffy, maybe a little uptight—according to Rick, at least—but he always speaks fondly of his mother and sisters.

Leo doesn't have a roadmap for what a normal family looks like, his has always been dysfunctional at best, but from what he can tell Rick comes from the sort of family where people actually enjoy spending the holidays together. Like something out of a book or a movie.

And okay, yes, Leo wasn’t planning on going home. He hasn’t been home since he left for college in San Francisco at seventeen, several states away from anyone he knew and the family issues he'd left behind, and he doesn’t plan on changing that any time soon. Especially not for the holidays which can be fraught at the best of times, let alone when he's damn sure he's not actually welcome back there.

But just because he doesn’t have somewhere else to be during the holidays doesn’t mean that Rick somehow owes him his company. He could just join the other unmarried sailors and aviators at the events inevitably organized by the local squadrons like he did last year. He voices this thought a few days before Christmas, when there’s still time for Rick to take leave and book a flight back to the East Coast or try and hop a Space A flight, but when he does Rick looks at him as though he’s speaking Klingon.

“Sweet boy,” Rick says, tugging him close and burying his face in his hair, “what on earth makes you think I’d want to spend Christmas apart from you?”

Leo squirms a little, uncomfortable at being put on the spot, not exactly sure how to explain that he doesn’t necessarily think Rick wants to spend it apart, but that maybe, surely, there are people who Rick would rather spend it with. Rick has friends, family, hell, he had a whole life before he met Leo. They’ve only known each other for five or six months, and they’ve only been together, properly together, for around three months of that time.

He tries to explain as best he can but Rick doesn’t seem to get it. Just holds him tighter as though he’s trying to reassure him of something. “If I was going anywhere else for the holidays,” he says, between pressing soft kisses over his cheekbones, “I would be taking you with me. You know that right?”

And well. No, Leo hadn’t considered that. Because, again, it hasn’t been that long has it? Surely not long enough that Rick wants him anywhere near his actual family outside of the Navy? But Rick laughs and kisses him sweetly and tells him “of course I would. Leo, you’re my family outside of the Navy too. Even if this all disappeared tomorrow, we’d still be together. We’d just have to go find new jobs.”

And that’s when Leo realizes that maybe Rick does actually love him as much as he says, that maybe it’s not just a deployment fling that’s become a comfortable relationship just because it's so easy between them, that maybe Rick does actually see this as some long-lasting thing. Leo has never wanted to push his luck, not when their relationship is illegal in the eyes of the Navy and the best they can hope for is flying under the radar for as long as they can bear to hide.

His eyes start watering then, and poor Rick looks torn between laughing and kissing him. “Oh you silly boy,” he sighs, settling for rubbing soothing circles over his back and squeezing him tighter, “I’m looking forward to our first Christmas together.”

And Leo feels a little stupid because maybe it should have been obvious, but they hadn’t discussed it and he hadn’t wanted to presume. He'd assumed his parent's love for him was unconditional after all, and look where that has gotten him. He hasn't spent the last five Christmases alone by choice. And it's not like he's told Rick half of his family issues, or really much of anything at all besides the fact he isn't on speaking terms with them, but somehow Rick seems to just know even without Leo having to spell it out.

Rick promises him they’re going to have the best Christmas ever and do all the dumb things that Leo hasn’t done in years, and then carries him off to bed to reassure him again by showing him exactly how much he loves every single part of him.

It’s already shaping up to be the best holiday season since he was a little kid, and it's not even Christmas Eve yet.

Which is why when the holidays finally do roll around he's almost buzzing with anticipation. Neither of them own much in the way of holiday decor, but they've made do with some colorful string lights from the NEX and a plastic tree that'd been going spare around the office and Rick promises they can be better prepared next year when they haven't just come back from deployment.

Leo drags Rick off to bed early on Christmas Eve and rides him while wearing the dumb Santa hat he’d gotten for the squadron Christmas party, just so that he can wake up early on Christmas morning. He has plans, the first of which involves making Rick breakfast in bed so they can exchange gifts over coffee and French toast. He can’t cook fancy stuff like Rick but breakfast foods he can do and he wants to do something nice for him. His boyfriend takes such very good care of him, and Leo just wants to show him how much he appreciates him.

By the time they’re eaten and are getting ready for their Christmas movie marathon, the only acceptable way to spend the afternoon in Leo’s humble opinion, he’s full of French toast and feeling warm and happy and content.

“Oh, I have one more gift for you!” Rick says, as if just remembering, interrupting their argument on the relative merits of Gremlins as a Christmas movie. (It is, and Leo will die on that hill.) He grumbles when Rick extricates himself from where he's sprawled on top of him to go dig out a little wrapped box that had been hidden in the hall closet where they keep their boots and coats.

“Happy Christmas, sweetheart,” he tells him, presenting the wrapped item with a flourish.

“What’s this?” Leo questions when he passes it to him. It’s quite light for its size, wrapped in purple tissue paper with a little silver bow on top. They agreed to stick to one gift each, and Leo pouts up at him a little as Rick climbs back on the couch beside him, tugging him back into his lap.

“You don’t have to use it, especially not right now,” Rick hesitates, fiddling with the strings on his sweatpants as if he’s nervous about Leo’s reaction, “but it’s for both of us, kind of.”

Leo opens the box, tearing the purple wrapping but setting the pretty bow aside, and immediately flushes bright red, exclaims “Ricky!”

It looks like a butt plug of some sort. But there’s a long thin wire coming out of the base that connects to a little plastic remote. Rick reaches into the box and flicks a button on the little remote and Leo almost drops it in surprise when the device starts buzzing in his hand.

Leo stares at it for a few seconds, then looks up at Rick who’s grinning wolfishly now he’s seen his response. He kisses Rick firmly on the lips and tells him “we are using this right away.”

Rick laughs as he shuts it off again, then reels him in with a hand on the back of his neck so he can kiss him thoroughly, only pulling away when he moans. “I thought we could use it for an improvement on Halloween?”

Leo nods emphatically, biting at his lower lip. His boyfriend taking him apart sounds like a wonderful Christmas gift.

“Only”, Rick hesitates, “maybe not exactly like Halloween?”

Leo isn’t sure where he’s going with this but snuggles closer anyway, wrapping his arms around Rick’s shoulders and pressing their cheeks together until he can feel the soft huff of the other man’s breath on the sensitive shell of his ear. 

“I kind of want to have you in my lap like this while we do it,” Rick admits quietly, his voice rough with arousal. 

Leo’s face is scarlet and he whines a little at the thought. Aroused and embarrassed at the same time. “If we didn’t want to make a mess, I’d need to be…” he cuts himself off, voice trembling a little.

“You would,” Rick murmurs in his ear darkly. 

Oh. Oh.

Does he want that? Maybe. 

They’d technically done something similar once before when they’d field-tested the new diapers. But they hadn’t quite been together then and Leo hadn’t been thinking of it sexually at the time. He’d mostly been embarrassed and exhausted from his health scare earlier that day. 

Leo nods suddenly and hears his boyfriend's breath hitch in his throat. “Yeah?” Rick says gently, tightening the warm circle of his arms around him. 

“Yeah,” Leo whispers, unable to fight the blush away but nevertheless committed. “Need you to put the plug in me so we can start our Christmas movies.”

“Okay,” Rick laughs lightly as if in disbelief. “Fuck, what did I do deserve you, sweetheart?”

Leo doesn’t know how to answer that, it's a question he asks himself about Rick almost daily. But he settles for hugging him back tightly before climbing off of him and taking the box containing his new toy with him to the bedroom, Rick quickly getting the idea and following closely on his heels.

“Lay back for me sweetheart?” he asks, walking him over to the bed and pressing gently against his chest. Leo allows himself to fall back against the pillows, spreading his legs so Rick can kneel between them

“Good boy,” Rick praises, leaning down to kiss over his chest and tummy, down toward the v of his hips. Leo tries to stay still and not squirm, but it’s hard. Rick hasn’t shaved in a few days while they haven’t been at work and his stubble is a little scratchy and ticklish against his skin.

“Can I?” Rick asks, toying with the ties at the waist of his sweats with one hand and stroking over his thigh with the other. Leo nods and lifts his hips so Rick can tug down his sweatpants and boxers, carefully pulling them off one leg at a time, kissing the inside of his now bare thighs as he goes. The discarded clothes are pushed over the edge of the bed to fall to the floor somewhere, but Leo is a little too distracted by the snick of the cap on the lube that Rick has leaned over to retrieve from the bedside table.

“Look how pretty you are,” Rick breathes slowly, watching Leo’s half-hard cock take an interest, twitching a little where it's resting against his thigh. Leo blushes a little and makes a small noise of embarrassment, pressing his hands over his face to hide from Rick’s intense gaze as he reaches down with a lubed finger and strokes over his rim a few times.

Rick leans over him as he circles his hole with the pad of his finger a few times, letting it catch on his rim and tug a little on each pass. “I love how embarrassed and flustered you get,” he says warmly, right next to Leo’s ear, making his whole body shudder. He whines a little, rocking down against Rick’s finger, hinting that he should slip it inside already.

"So needy," Rick chastises, but acquiesces anyway, nibbling at the sensitive shell of Leo’s ear to distract him while he presses it in. He gives Leo a few seconds to adjust before he slides it in further, and Leo’s cock is definitely paying attention now, hot and hard against his lower tummy. His hips twitch a few times, his body subconsciously seeking out some sort of friction, but it only results in him pulling Rick in deeper, the drag of it inside him making him whimper.

He moans as Rick deliberately brushes over his prostate, stroking it a few times until the head of Leo’s cock is weeping precum, smearing it over his tummy. One finger is not enough though, and Rick chuckles darkly as Leo grinds down against him. Kissing him softly to quiet the little whining gasps he’s making, before drizzling more lube over his greedy hole and pushing in a second digit.

The stretch feels a little better now, especially when Rick crooks both fingers together and presses them against his prostate, his back bowing and a wanton moan escaping before he can stop it. Rick speeds up at the sound, scissoring his fingers and stretching Leo out so he can add a third. Leo sobs when he pulls out. His hole flutters around the vacated space, suddenly feeling so empty.

Rick shushes him softly, kissing over his cheekbones and his brow, using the hand that isn’t covered in lube to pet through his hair. Then he’s slowly pressing the lubed plug into him while Leo takes a few deep breaths, gently sliding it home and rotating it a few times to help him adjust. Rick prepared him well though, and the stretch is not too different to his three fingers. It leaves him feeling comfortably full, the base barely visible between his cheeks.

“How does it feel?” Rick asks, squeezing his round ass firmly, thumbing over the base of the plug and sending a shiver racing down Leo’s spine.

"It feels good," he sighs, smiling dopily up at Rick. "I love you."

"I love you too,” he says, leaning down to kiss Leo properly before he goes to the bathroom to wash the lube off his hand. When he returns he asks “do you want to continue?" nodding toward the closet where the supplies are stored.

Leo nods but hesitates a little when Rick goes to fetch the necessary items himself, making a quiet noise of distress that gives Rick pause. “Should I… Shouldn’t I do this part?”

Rick raises an eyebrow and sits back down on the edge of the bed beside where he’s still lying, looking at him searchingly. “Only if you want to do it yourself, sweet boy,” he says slowly, as though he's not entirely sure what is wrong.

Leo pauses to think about it. Sometimes it’s hard when Rick gives him options like this because he doesn’t mind if Rick does it for him, not at all, but what if Rick minds? He should, right? It’s weird. On the other hand, his boyfriend had assumed he was going to do it so maybe that does mean he’s really okay with it. Leo whines a little and rolls over to press to face against Rick’s thigh so he doesn’t have to look at him. Everything is hard because now he’s been given a choice and he doesn’t want to choose wrong.

“You know it doesn’t bother me, right? You wearing them?” Rick says carefully, while he strokes through Leo’s hair with gentle fingers. “It’s just an easier way of keeping our stuff clean when we do things like this. There’s no shame in it.”

He shudders a little and nods after a moment, mumbling a “you can do it” against Rick’s thigh.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” he says, ruffling Leo’s hair and making him grumble when it flops forward in his eyes before going to retrieve the things they need from the closet. 

Rick slowly wipes away the lube from his skin around the plug and then tapes the padded garment around him, pressing a kiss against his tummy as he does. He makes sure it's not too tight against the plug and leaves the cord hanging out of the top, tucking the little end box in the front pocket of Leo’s borrowed hoodie. Leo keeps his eyes closed tight throughout the process, his hands pressed to his face and his breathing picking up speed, but Rick strokes gently over his tummy and thighs when he’s done, giving him a few minutes to calm down.

"We’re fine sweet boy,” Rick says and tugs at his hands until he sits up–making a quiet noise of surprise when the plug shifts inside him and his cock twitches in interest—and then Rick is leaning forward to hug him. Wraps his arms around him tightly and lets Leo hide his face against the curve of his neck, rubbing slow circles against his back until his breathing slows again.

"You want to go put on a Christmas movie and I’ll make some hot cocoa?” He asks, and Leo can feel the rumble of his voice against the side of his face.

"It’s too warm in here for cocoa,” Leo protests, they've had the heating turned up for a couple weeks now and it's getting toasty in the apartment, but it does sound nice. Spending the afternoon cuddled up on the couch with his handsome boyfriend, wearing his borrowed hoodie, drinking cocoa, and watching kitschy Christmas movies? It sounds like something directly out of teenage Leo’s wildest fantasies. Maybe less so the part where Leo is wearing a buttplug and a diaper, but no plan survives first contact with the enemy.

“It’s Christmas!” Rick laughs, squeezing him a little. “It’s never too warm for cocoa on Christmas!”

Well, he can’t argue with that. So Leo puts “The Snowman” in the VCR and flops on the couch to wait while Rick putters around in the kitchen, pouring milk in a pot and setting it on the stove to heat, pulling cocoa powder, the teeny tiny marshmallows that Leo loves, and peppermint schnapps out of the pantry. Leo would probably have put the milk in the microwave, but Rick insists it doesn’t taste right unless you do it properly.

Rick passes by the back of the couch on his way to and from the linen closet, looking for a cozy blanket, and wordlessly drops a few water bottles on the cushion beside him. Leo blushes slightly but he understands the implicit instruction and uncaps one to sip at while he waits. He’s almost finished by the time Rick comes back with the cocoa, moving the remaining bottles to the coffee table so that Rick can sit beside him.

The mug is warm in his hands and the peppermint makes it taste better than he would have ever imagined. It’s like someone put liquid Christmas in a mug. For all of his complaining about it being too hot for cocoa, his bare legs are kind of cool and the warmth is welcome. Rick presses play on the remote, and Leo shifts until he’s pressed into his side, burrowing under his free arm and resting his head against him. The rise and fall of Rick’s chest as he breathes is soothing, and Leo loses himself in the movie for a while, letting the cocoa settle in his belly.

He grumbles as he’s dislodged from his comfortable spot as Rick leans forward to grab another water bottle from the coffee table, but he returns to his previous position soon enough. Rick uncapping the water and holding it to his mouth, feeding him little sips every now and then while they watch. They make it through two bottles like this over the course of the movie, and by the time it’s over Leo is feeling decidedly full.

“You doing okay?” Rick asks while the credits play, stroking through his hair gently.

Leo nods, turning to press his face against his chest. He feels good, the pressure in his tummy from all the liquid isn’t too bad yet, and he’s mostly just warm and comfy. If anything, it's making him feel a little sleepy.

“You want to watch another one?” 

Does he? He finds he doesn’t really care about what’s on the television but he would like to stay here like this. He tells his boyfriend as much, and so Rick gets up to change out the tape for something else and picks something Christmassy at random for background noise. When he comes back he tugs his own hoodie off so they don’t overheat, laying it over the back of the couch, and then maneuvers Leo until he’s sitting on his lap entirely, tucked against his chest with his legs wrapped around him, his head resting on Rick’s shoulder.

Leo lets the sound of the television wash over him, Rick sliding his hands up underneath his hoodie so he can stroke slowly over his back, turning to press small kisses against the side of his neck every now and then, as if checking Leo is still here. He’s not sure how much of the movie they make it through—it can’t be very much—before he gets drowsy. Probably the schnapps in the cocoa, he thinks, his eyes sliding shut.

“Tired?” Rick asks, reaching up to cup the side of his face and stroke over his cheek, and he shakes his head.

“Not sleepin’. Just layin’ here,” he says grumpily. Rick laughs but leaves him be for a while, content to doze while Rick watches whatever is playing.

The movie is probably halfway done by the time all the liquid catches up to him, and he shifts his hips a few times trying to get comfortable, and presses closer to Rick where his legs are wrapped around his middle to get some pressure on his cock. 

“You think you can wait until it's over?” Rick asks, stroking his hands over Leo’s bare thighs.

Leo thinks about it for a second, trying to feel out how badly he needs to go, and nods. “‘S’not too bad yet.”

Rick hums thoughtfully and reaches between them to fetch the little plastic remote out of the pocket of Leo’s hoodie. “May I?”

Leo nods and Rick uses the little slider to set it to the lowest setting and presses the button. Right away he feels his need to go spike, whimpering as he grinds his hand down against his padded crotch. He’s been half-hard ever since Rick had fingered him open earlier, but now the low vibrations pulsing against his prostate have his cock rapidly filling until it's straining against the front of the diaper. His prostate isn’t the only thing that’s vibrating though. The liquid in his bladder makes him feel like he’s a lightly shaken bottle of Cola, vibrating and buzzing and fizzing, the liquid just looking for a way out. 

At least the fact he’s hard will help him hold he thinks, a little hysterically, as the pleasure washes over in warm waves, and he pants lightly against Rick’s neck. Rick slides the vibration setting a little higher and he whines, closing his eyes and rocking against him slightly, the pressure on his cock where it’s trapped between him and Rick and the pressure against his prostate from the plug is almost too much.

When he can see how worked up he’s getting Rick lets the vibrations slow again, just a little. If Leo comes now he knows he won’t be able to keep holding. He stays there, pressed tightly against Rick, his whole body trembling with the strain as the warmth of arousal courses through him and the liquid in his bladder urges him to do something, anything.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he gasps, and sobs "Ricky 'm not gonna be able to do this for very long" into Rick’s shoulder, as he clutches at his cock as best he can through his padding.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Rick teases, and he's trying to keep his tone light, acting as though he's unaffected, but his voice is a little hoarse and Leo can feel his cock pressing against his own through the padding.

Leo bites his lip and shakes his head, trying to keep from whimpering, feeling far too overheated as his arousal goes from warm pleasure to too hot and too much. Rick tsks and makes him let go of his cock for a second or two while he tugs his sweater off for him, dropping it on the couch beside them, leaving Leo a teary trembling mess in his lap wearing only his diaper and doing his best not to leak into it.

He tries to grind against Rick like he did before, but this time his movements just jostle that still-vibrating plug firmly against his prostate and he moans loudly as his vision whites out for a second. Sobbing he whimpers “please” as he feels himself leak hot and wet into the padding of his diaper, the warmth spilling around his cock and balls and making it even harder to hold on as he grasps at his leaky cock frantically. 

Rick chuckles and says “I thought we had an agreement? The movie is only two-thirds of the way through,” while he kisses Leo’s damp cheek and squeezes the hand that's providing grounding pressure against the back of his neck. 

Leo nods and gasps for breath. Then he feels the intensity of the plug increase again, and realizes Rick must have turned it back up as he wails and thrusts his hips against the hard torso in front of him, trying to use the friction to help him hold on. But he’s already leaked and any friction he was getting before is long gone, his cock slick with precum sliding against the warm damp mess.

“I want to hold it, but I can’t,” he whimpers, his body trembling with the effort as he ruts against his hand, little leaks slipping out every now and then despite his best efforts, feeling so oversensitized from the plug pressing against his prostate that he’s not sure if he’s going to piss or cum. 

Rick says “you can, baby” firmly, then pushes the slider up again and Leo can feel his whole bladder vibrate inside of him. He almost loses it as he spurts once, twice, then manages to cut it off before it happens a third time. But now the front of the padding is soaked, hot and wet against the tip of his cock, and his poor muscles are starting to burn.

Rick tugs his hands away from his cock right as he flicks the slider to the highest setting, and Leo clutches at Rick’s shoulders tightly, biting down on his lower lip and squeezing his eyes closed, unable to think of anything beyond the vibrations that are driving him insane. “‘M sorry, Daddy, ‘m sorry,” he sobs as he loses it. It’s all over then, his cock spraying piss against the front of his diaper, the padding quickly growing even hotter around him, and he rocks back on the plug still sobbing and moaning until his stream finally comes to an end.

“Fuck, baby,” Rick groans roughly, right next to his ear, reaching down to grind his palm against the soaked diaper over the sensitive head of his cock and drawing out a whimper. “Cum for me, sweet boy.”

Rick doesn’t have to say it twice. Leo cums with a cry, his whole brain whiting out for a moment, the hot sticky cum just adding to the mess he’s already made of himself. 

Rick shuts off the vibrator when he wiggles uncomfortably, whining at the overstimulation, and Leo slumps against him panting and shaking, tears still running down his cheeks, falling to land on Rick’s bare skin. 

He feels strange, like he’s having an out-of-body experience, or looking up from underwater. He’s only vaguely aware of the gentle hands running over his back, his arms, his thighs, the soft kisses pressed against his teary cheeks, the reassuring words Rick whispers, telling him how beautiful he is, how perfect, how much Rick loves him. 

With a blush, he realizes he’s still pissing on and off, dick twitching in his soaked undergarments with aftershocks like his bladder hasn’t quite got the memo that their play is done. He decides not to worry about it for now, not when his body feels all limp and weak, his hands still trembling where he’s clutching at Rick. He closes his eyes.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, but he starts to feel cold after a while and shivers.

"Hey," Rick’s voice is gentle as he runs large hands over Leo’s back, stroking up and down his spine in long soothing motions. "How are you feeling?"

Leo hums, his head leaning against the curve of Rick’s neck. "Kinda floaty."

"The good kind?"

"Yeah," he sighs, a long exhale that seems to take the last of his energy with it. “I’m so tired,” Leo admits, pressing his face against Rick’s bare chest, mouthing gentle kisses against his skin.

“You can nap if you like?” Rick squeezes him tightly, “I'll wake you up later for dinner."

Leo pulls a face. “Need to clean up first.” He doesn’t want to move because with moving comes cleanup and that sounds like an awful lot of effort and motivation that he just does not have right now. Wishes it could be magically taken care of so he can stay exactly where he is, tucked against Rick, safe in that soft floaty place where everything feels good and he can just let the world slip away.

“Do you want help?” Rick asks carefully, as though he isn’t sure how Leo will respond.

He flushes lightly. “You don’t have to do that, Rick.”

"I don't mind," Rick says, leaning down and pressing soft kisses into his hair. "I helped make this mess, after all."

Leo hesitates for a moment while he thinks about it. Something about it seems deeply intimate, somehow, and in a way that’s different to the time with the puppy pads, or his wet clothing. But this is Rick. He can trust Rick to take care of him. “…‘Kay,” he finally whispers.

Rick stands then and he yelps, wrapping his legs around his middle tightly as Rick’s strong hands grip the underside of his thighs, clinging to the older man with his arms looped around his shoulders and tucking his face against his neck. He loves the fact that Rick is bigger than he is, even if he’s not that much taller. That he treats Leo like something small and precious to be looked after and cherished and loved. 

Rick drops him on the bed with a bounce, making him giggle tiredly, and disappears to the bathroom to retrieve a towel and a packet of wipes that Leo keeps stashed under the sink. His eyes are already closing by the time he returns, but he does his best to not be a hindrance as Rick lays the towel out and helps him roll onto it, his limbs floppy and uncooperative.

As he expected, Rick is gentle but efficient, smoothing carefully over his skin with the wipes until he feels clean again. His eyes close without his permission and stay that way, his eyelids feeling impossibly heavy. Like the world is sliding away and leaving him behind. “Leave the plug,” he sighs when he feels Rick’s fingers teasing against his puffy rim as though he’s going to remove it. 

He has plans for later, involving his hole and Rick’s cock, and the toy will keep him nice and stretched while he sleeps. Rick tries to hide a slightly choked noise with a cough and Leo grins with satisfaction, not even minding the light tap on the rear that earns him. 

He hears Rick leave again but he’s not gone for long, the bed dipping as he climbs in, tugging Leo’s tired, limp form into his arms and pulling the blankets over them. He smiles and snuggles into Rick’s side, soaking in the warmth of his bare skin. "I love you," he whispers, without opening his eyes.

Rick kisses him then, just a gentle brush of lips against his own, then again on his cheeks, his forehead, and the tip of his nose. "I love you, too,” he says fondly, and it sounds like he’s smiling. “Happy Christmas, Leo.”

It’s the first of many.