*Imagine* Telling Dally to Hold It

(Dally looks like this http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mao29e7ot21rwiy6co1_500.gif for those who don’t know!~)

You guys are hanging out at the Dingo, downing one drink after the other. You know that alcohol isn’t the best way to end the night, but hey, a great story never began with a salad. You notice Dally’s starting to get shifty and squirmy in his seat, but that’s how he always gets when he’s drunk, so you dismiss it. But when he starts looking a little worried, you speak up and ask what’s wrong.
“Oh, uh, nothing,” Dally replied, “I’m fine…” He downs another shot, and he slams the glass down on the counter top. You accidentally knock over your drink, and it gets all over the counter! Dally looks alarmed and gets out of his seat, and while cleaning up your clumsy mess, you see that his seat had a tiny puddle in it. Maybe it’s from my drink, you think. But you know it’s not. You look up at Dally, who is shifting his eyes from one corner of the room to the other. You ask him if he needs the restroom.
“What? No!” Dally said, “My bladder ain’t affected by no booze… I got a bladder of steel,” He says, trying to sound tough. He doesn’t have to do that around you, you already know he’s a tough bastard. The only time he does that around you is when something’s bothering him. You stare him in the eye and dare him to hold it until you you two leave the Dingo.
His eyes widen. He already looks like he’s about to lose his grip on his poor bladder. But he nods in agreement, “Alright, I’ll do it, but only to make you happy.” You smile and kiss his nose, to which he smiles and kisses you back. He loves making you happy! After a few minutes, you order him another shot. He looks at you with a are you fucking kidding me? look. You smirk and hand him his drink. He downs it and slams the glass on the table. He seemed fine for a second, then he frowned and grabbed his crotch, his thighs tightening. Dally shifts in his seat, squirming and begging you to let him go to the bathroom. You tell him, sternly, that he couldn’t until they left. He whines but nods, squeezing his crotch. 
After thirty minutes, you decide you two better head out before Dally pees all over the place. You grab his hand and as you two walk out the building, that’s when it happens. He finally starts pissing! He curses under his breath and sighs a little, the front and even the back of his pants starting to grow a dark, wet shade. Urine trickles down his legs and puddles up underneath his feet, flooding his shoes and socks. He whines and squirms, but soon relaxes his body and lets it happen. He closes his eyes and leaned against you, you giggling and rubbing his back. You ask if it feels nice, and he nods, “God, it feels great…” He smiles and kisses you, “I think I know what I want to do next time we get drunk, babe…” You ask what, and he says, “I wanna get as drunk as possible, get you in bed, maybe tie you up if you’ve been bad, and pull my pants down and piss all in your face, in you’re mouth, on your chest…” He smiles deviously, rubbing his wet pants against your thigh. You smile back and kiss him, grabbing his wet ass. 

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