That's not how you perform maintenance

"Set me down on the floor, would you, boss?" You need to use the drains on the floor of the TV Titan's hangar.

"…No, I don't think I will," says the Titan, continuing to stroke you with one hand while holding you with the other.

Really?

You would rather stay here and enjoy the stroking… but you do need to use the drains.

"If you don't," you reply, "I'll have no choice but to piss on your hand."

"Oh, I know," says the Titan casually.

"…I wasn't expecting you to say that. I actually will, you know. I value my health more than I do your gloves."

"I'd better take those off, then." The Titan removes its gloves one at a time while still holding on to you (you'd admire the deftness if you weren't distracted by the increasing squirming pressure in your lower abdomen), revealing the polished black bare metal of its hands, the hinge joints in the gaps of the finger plating protected by a layer of what looks like purple ballistic gel.

"If I didn't know better, boss, I'd think you wanted me to piss on you."

"Indeed," says the Titan, setting its gloves down on a walkway, before bringing its hand in to resume stroking you. "That's how you mammals mark things as yours, isn't it?"

"…Yes, it's how beasts do it. It's not a human thing. We can't detect pheromones that clearly for piss to be viable as a communication."

"Would you do it anyway?" replies the Titan, bringing you closer to its face and speaking in a low voice. "I very much like the idea of you leaving your scent on me to mark me as yours…"

Well. That is undeniably appealing… "The most powerful and perfect Titan wants me to brand them as mine? That does please me greatly. …Where do you want it? Here on your hands?"

"Oh, I'd like that," says the Titan, rumbling its speakers rather salaciously.

"You got it, boss." You begin removing your footwear, legwear and lower underclothes - let's do this properly. The Titan picks up your pile of doffed clothes between thumb and forefinger and sets it down on the walkway by its gloves.

"Well, if I'm going to do it, I might as well maximise the opportunity," you say. "Let me hold off for a as long as I can until I'm at maximum capacity. …Could you… rile me up a little? Press me gently, here, where my bladder sits… ohh, that's intense…"

The Titan continues teasing you like this at your direction, rubbing your belly and very gently grinding its fingertip against your junk, the pressure from your bladder juicing up the sensations. It's making your bladder feel like a hot tight little orb inside you, increasing in power, like your own miniature sun. …Until holding it in starts to become just a little painful, and you need to release right now. "I'm not sure you quite know what you're getting into…" you say, "But if you're not going to put me down so I can get at the drains, you leave me with no choice." You begin pissing -- ohh, blessed relief. You enjoy that warm tingle you get in the soles of your feet that inexplicably accompanies a big piss.

"That's very warm!" comments the Titan. "…That's your internal temperature?"

"It is indeed," you reply with a small amount of pride. You only wish the Titan could appreciate the lovely hot and musky stinky bouquet you're making, like a blend of honey, peas and ammonia.

"I never knew you humans were such warm little creatures. …There's so much!"

"What were you expecting, out of curiosity?"

"I thought it would be a tiny spray! That's what I thought mammals did to scent-mark- You're still going? This is a flood!" Your piss is running off the Titan's palm onto the hangar floor many metres below.

"A full bladder is about 600mL. That's what you're getting," you say, pushing out the last bit of your stream. "Once it's started, I can't stop the flow. Well, I can, but I could damage my pipes that way. …There. That's your lot."

"Well… I can't say you didn't try to warn me."

"Sorry boss, but that's hilarious… Actually, I don't think I'm that sorry at all."

The Titan sets you down on a walkway so you can find some paper towel and retrieve your clothes, and then set up the pressure washer to hose the Titan's hands down.

"Maybe next time," remarks the Titan as its hands drip with the soapy water, "I should have you piss in my core chamber."