Most people didn’t like Ominas Crowe, but that was fine with him. After all, he didn’t like any of them.
Well, he supposed he could tolerate his fellow male officers in the Sky Knights—not Holly though, that bitch—and he did love his precious Bahamut. But as far as he cared, just about everyone else he’d ever met were idiots who couldn’t understand what a magical genius he was. The men under him, especially, were better cannon fodder than they were soldiers.
And he swore, as he walked down the deserted corridors of a ruined underground shrine, when next he saw those traitors, he’d feed them to Bahamut! The idiots had run off the moment danger showed up, though he admitted he wasn’t sure if it was the monsters or his liberal use of Firaga that sent them hysterically fleeing. It didn’t matter; he was alone and lost all the same. And when he found out which on those nimrods had taken the map with them… They would be the first to fry.
Ominas didn’t know how long he’d been searching for a way out, but he guessed it had been a few hours already. In that time, his anger had plenty of time to grow and fester. He liked being alone, sure, but by choice, not because his troops up and abandoned him.
On top of all that, his anger wasn’t the only thing that grew.
He’d drunk plenty of coffee on the airship ride to the cavernous shrine, and now it was finally beginning to catch up with him. Unlike the heathens that he called underlings, he hated the idea of whipping it out whenever and wherever nature called. With any luck, he’d be able to make it out before he got desperate enough to even consider that.
…Half an hour more of unproductive walking made him think that perhaps he’d just have to swallow his pride and engage in such beastly behavior for once. Besides, it wasn’t as if anyone was around to see…
Despite knowing he was completely alone—and that he’d need to be missing for a few more hours at least before Heinkel would send Barras and Holly after him—he still ducked into a small indent in the wall, just large enough to fit him. It was better than doing it out in the open at least. All he had to do was untie his pants, and…
He growled as the cord refused to give way. With a huff of disgust, he let his rod drop to the ground and fought with it, though even both hands proved ineffective. Through his irritation, memories of that morning sprung to mind. He’d woken up late and had to hurry to get to the airship on time. Though the asterisks magically would return their job outfits to their default neat and clean appearance upon being activated, it didn’t mean they couldn’t get messy while still being worn. Ominas had fallen asleep in his black mages robes the night before, and he’d been in such a hurry that after taking a quick morning piss, he’d been too frantic to bother tying the pants back up properly. His fingers had fumbled so much with his normal bow that he’d grown frustrated and threw the cord into a tight knot that really had no place on his pants.
“D-dammit,” he mumbled, picking at the cord fruitlessly. “S-stupid p-p-pants!”
His stuttering always grew worse when he was upset, and now was no exception. He had to go, rather badly. He supposed that he could remove the asterisk’s power completely, but he hated doing that in dangerous places unless it was absolutely his last resort. It was possible that a monster could still be lurking about, and better to be caught with his dick out than to lose access to the spells he’d need to roast it.
It then occurred to him that his last resort, in this case, was if he couldn’t hold on until he got out and ended up wetting himself. Despite the taunts he’d heard from bullies in his youth, Ominas had never had accidents, aside from a few when he was first out of diapers, as most children had. He’d never even wet the bed. To think, he was thirty-two years old, lieutenant commander of the Eternian Sky Knights, and he was facing the very real possibility of wetting his pants! And all because he’d tied his pants too tightly!
The rational part of him insisted that deactivating the asterisk would be fine; he hadn’t seen a monster in hours. But another—deeper and mostly hidden—part whispered that he could just let go, right there, fully dressed. He was all alone, and the pain in his bladder would be gone. Then he could quickly deactivate the asterisk and immediately reactivate it, removing all evidence of what he’d done, and no one would ever figure out the truth. It was all too perfect…
A wave of disgust washed over him. What the hell was he thinking? He was a grown man. He could hold it, or he’d conquer that terrible knot and get his pants off. He wouldn’t—
A swift jab of pain hit his pulsing bladder, causing him to moan… and for a quick burst of warm urine to spurt out. His efforts to untie his pants redoubled, but a dark part of his mind insisted that it was useless. He was going to wet himself, right there, lost and alone.
His bladder throbbed angrily now that it had a brief moment of relief. The more it throbbed, the clumsier Ominas’s fingers grew, and the more his resolve wavered. It would be so easy to just give up the struggle. It would feel so good…!
With a groan, Ominas finally removed his hands and simply relaxed. The results were immediate—hot piss began to fill his pants, starting with his undergarments and quickly spreading down until it filled his boots and puddled onto the ground. It was unlike any sensation he’d ever felt, and to his most guilty pleasure, he found himself loving it. It was childish and disgusting and warm and wet—!
He shuddered as the stream died down and finally stopped with a tiny trickle. His bladder was empty, but now his cock was rapidly hardening. Well, he’d come that far…
Without a second thought, he rubbed himself through his drenched pants. His movements were frenzied and his thoughts were focused on nothing but pleasure and obtaining release. It was nothing like masturbating to fantasies of handsome men—fantasies that he’d never admit aloud to having—but somehow he found his every nerve afire with desire.
He came quickly, his legs buckling beneath him and leaving him quivering and panting in his rapidly cooling puddle. Ominas imagined he must look like a hot mess, his lower half soaked with urine and semen, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care yet. For several long minutes, he sat on the ground and caught his breath, wondering why he didn’t feel any guilt or disgust over his shameless actions. Maybe it would come later, when he was around the other Sky Knights…
But then again, he thought, maybe not. In fact, maybe the net time he got separated from his underlings, he wouldn’t be able to get his pants off yet again… Wouldn’t that just be a shame?
After finally gaining the strength to stand, he got up from the puddle and deactivated his asterisk, leaving him nude. His lower half was still wet and a bit sticky, but he only waited a few moments before he let the power flow through his body again, clothing himself in a dry outfit. It was as if nothing had ever happened, just as he’d planned. If anyone mentioned anything about a smell before he could bathe, he could just blame it on monsters. And if anyone dared not believe him, Bahamut would have a new chew toy.
A rare smile on his face, Ominas reached down to grab his rod, then set out yet again to find the exit and burn a few underlings to a crisp.
I wasn't going to write anymore of this but... Well, why not?
“…What the hell did we just see?”
It was a completely rhetorical question, but when Barras described the scene they’d just witnessed—in great detail—Holly wasn’t surprised in the least. The monk had never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she didn’t really care. After all, he made up for it in other ways. Her gaze wandered down and she smirked. Yeah, that was definitely one of them.
“I know what we saw, you dolt. But now I’m more curious as to your reaction…” Barras didn’t look embarrassed that she’s noticed his tented pants; if anything, he seemed pleased by her staring. Oh, she knew what the sight under the cloth looked like. Intimately, in fact. But to think that he was so affected by Ominas pissing himself and jerking off…
She was suddenly very grateful that Argent had insisted they go after the troublesome mage when he didn’t return to the airship with the other soldiers. At the time she had argued that she didn’t want to waste her energy—there was no way she’d ever admit that she was confident that Ominas was strong enough to handle anything he ran into all by himself—but the captain had insisted, and Barras had been eager to explore a new area that could potentially have good fights.
Well, they hadn’t found any monsters to fight, but they’d certainly happened upon Ominas at an… interesting time. Something about watching him lose control like that had been, well, rather exciting, in multiple ways. Had she been a man, Holly thought she’d look rather similarly to Barras. As it were, she felt the familiar heat of desire throughout her body. She’d wondered more than a few times as to what Ominas looked like in the buff, and now she had her answer. It wasn’t entirely disappointing.
Of course, Ominas was apparently into kinky enough shit that she probably would have forgiven him even if he had the body of Qada.
“Holly,” Barras’s voice was thick with the same lust that she too felt, “I know you hate fucking anywhere you could get your dress dirty, so shouldn’t we follow Ominas and get out of here?” It was a sweet gesture on his part, but Holly had an idea forming, and if it was to work, she needed to be very careful of the timing…
“You know me well,” she purred, stepping up to him until they were touching. She could feel his erection pressing into her, and she shivered at the thought of it inside her. No matter how many times they had sex, she never quite got used to how thick he was. “But I have a plan, and we need to make sure Ominas doesn’t know we saw him for it to work. So…” She grabbed one of his hands and guided it down to the hem of her dress. “Think you can pull this off without staining anything?”
His hearty laughter rang out in the empty cavern.