Notes: A request for an amazing someone on Tumblr. Very angsty and porny. Title from the song Addicted by IO Echo.

Warnings: D/s and control issues. Kind of allusions to past abuses. Did I mention angst? And the porn? Okay.

Word Count ~1500

Brendan stands in the center of the bedroom, heart pounding, racing, one-hundred miles a minute, and he's never felt like this before, never in his whole life has he experienced so many warring emotions and it's enough to almost make him call time on this whole thing.

Steven watches him from meters away. He's chewing on the inside of his bottom lip and it's not from nerves. He's quietly considering. He's thinking up his next move. He's looking and Brendan and deciding what to do with him.

Sweat pinpricks all over his body, feels like it's cracking through his skin in tiny droplets over every inch of him and he can't stop blinking but that and the rise and fall of his chest is the only movement he makes since Steven had told him in a steady voice to stop fidgeting, stand still, and he had, just like that, surprised them both with how he'd just obeyed. There's something happening here and Brendan is terrified and buzzing with anticipation.

Steven takes one slow step forward and Brendan's breath quickens. He's hot all over, pressure all through him like steam and they haven't even done anything yet, he doesn't know what's going on.

"Come here, Brendan," he says in a low, ever-so-slightly trembling voice, and Brendan does. He steps until Steven holds up a hand and when Brendan tries to reach his own hand up, just the need to touch, reassurance or something, Steven says, "no, you don't touch," and he drops his arm by his side and squeezes his eyes shut, chest heaving almost painfully. "Hey, look at me - it's okay, Brendan." He opens his eyes and looks into Steven's and sees that he's safe. He trusts this man in front of him with his life. He's the only person in the world Brendan could hand control over to like this. "I'll take care of you, you know I will."

He knows.

"Tell me you know."

"I know, Steven."

His voice is a cracked and broken wreck.

"Good. Get on your knees." A full-body shudder wracks all the way through him and he almost collapses to the carpet, knees going weak like Steven's voice is controlling his entire body without any input from Brendan whatsoever. "Put your hands behind your back, I don't want you tempted."

Steven was right. He curls his fingers under the fabric of his t-shirt and slides it up, reveals the smooth, tight skin of his belly, the tattoo on his hip, the pink of his nipples, hard against the rush of cold air, and up over his head, and Brendan's fingers itch and he has to squeeze them around his wrists to stop from moving. Steven gazes down at him, so much heat in his eyes that Brendan could burn.

"Good, so, so good, Brendan," he says roughly, almost fervently. He wants Brendan to listen. The praise folds over him, caresses and blankets him in warmth. "You don't need to be good for anyone else, okay? Just me. You don't need anyone else's approval, only mine. You and me, that's all that matters. Tell me you understand."

"I understand."

Steven scrutinises him and believes it, should because it's true, can't hide a damn thing from his Steven and the same goes the other way around. He moves his hands to his waistband, drags down his zip, pops his button. He's not wearing underwear and Brendan sees he's hard, flushed red, and Brendan hardens in response, his dick pushing uncomfortably up against his own zip. He thrills at the inability to do a damn thing. He has no authority here, no power. He's helpless to Steven's words and it's everything he should hate but he fucking trusts so hard and so fundamentally, like it's ingrained in him, like it sings through his very blood.

Steven grips himself, pulls out, and he's beautiful, perfect length of him, soft, velvet-smooth foreskin moving with his fingers, pre-come welling at the head until he swipes it and drags it over himself. He shimmies the rest of the way out of his jeans, kicks them away to the side and widens his legs, braces his stance in front of Brendan's prone form.

"No touching, tell me."

"No touching," he promises, whispers, voice upped and fucked off, nothing but air left in its place.

"Good," Steven croons and Brendan gets harder, fucking solid and throbbing.

Steven thumbs the head of his dick, rubs himself and whimpers, arches his hips forward slightly, so close to Brendan he can smell the musky smell of spunk, thick tang in the air, heady like a drug and he sways ever-so-slightly forward and makes a low noise in the back of his throat.

He watches Steven's long, pretty fingers circle the width of him and pull, long slow strokes, up and down, light at first and then gaining pressure until the bones of his knuckles shift and move underneath the tight skin. Brendan looks up the length of him, can't decide which bit he wants to focus on. Steven gazes back, eyes locked on him unwaveringly. His mouth is parted and his breath comes in ragged bursts, his voice creeping through in tiny, choking whimpers, and he's so fucking hot that Brendan feels like he's drowning in molten lava.

Brendan digs his fingernails into the skin of his wrists until he feels wet blood pop and well up.

Steven strips his dick, faster now, squeezing around the head, steady dribble of pre-come leaking and slicking up the slide of his hand. The sound is wet and obscene, damp, slapping skin, lewd and beautiful and Brendan's mouth waters to taste but he settles for his other senses, what he sees and smells and hears, other sensations that aren't touch and it's amazing how much this is affecting him. The pressure in his body is incredible, nothing but the friction of his jeans against his own swollen dick and the all-encompassing everything of Steven and he's tightly drawn and so close he can't believe it.

"Brendan - I'm gonna come, open - open your mouth, don't look away - " Steven's words are hitching and choking out of him and Brendan does, he opens up and he looks into Steven's face like he's the face of fucking God.

Steven's keens, high in his throat, and angles himself close to Brendan's bottom lip. He pulls, a few more sweeping strokes, and then he's crying out, high-pitched whimpers, helpless, desperate sounds, and Brendan tastes him on his tongue and lips, come streaking across his chin until Steven's spent and shaking and looking at him like he can't believe what just happened.

"Jesus - " he chokes out and Brendan licks his bottom lip, laps up what Steven gave him.

Steven falls to his knees in front of him and wraps both his hands around Brendan's neck and strokes his thumbs across his chin, gathers the sticky white that he didn't manage to get with his tongue and Brendan dips his head and catches the digits against his lips, sucks him dry until Steven whimpers again and falls against him, foreheads pressing together and breath mingling.

"Are you okay?" Steven asks him softly and Brendan gives him a shaky smile, nods. "Was that - "

"It was good, it was really good, Steven," he tells him breathlessly and finally touches, grips Steven's hips, skin warm under him, and Steven surges forward and kisses him, damp, sweet taste of Steven and come melting between them.

He reaches down and pops Brendan's button and reaches inside, takes his dick and strokes him hard and desperate until he's digging his fingertips into Steven's giving flesh and coming across his stomach, blind with the release of so much pressure, shaking in Steven's secure and comforting embrace.

He comes down to Steven kissing his lips and cheeks and eyelids, telling him he's beautiful and worth the world and all mine, Brendan, no one else's, and stroking fingers through his hair, almost petting him through the aftershocks.

"He can never 'ave you, Brendan," Steven says, soft and zealously sure of himself. "He will never 'ave you. I won't let him take you away from me, I promise - I promise - "

Brendan clings to him and Steven clings back even more desperately. He buries himself into Steven's arms and lets the promise wash him calm.