Disclaimer: I don't own Hollyoaks or any characters.
Warnings: Graphic sexual situations, swearing, M/M sex.
Notes: I wrote this a while ago and I decided since I've finally got the guts to publish the last couple of fics that I should publish this. Very, very nervous about this. But what the hell you can only hate it.
Set late 2010
Brendan's POV
I scan the bar looking for him. Where is he now? Bloody slip of a thing disappears and reappears seemingly at will with no appreciation for what that does to my evening. Steven watching a valid enjoyable pastime.
Rhys is behind the bar which is the only reason I don't go and put a shift in and play my new favourite game although it's much more satisfying than just watching him. Accidently brushing against him while we work the bar. Feeling the heat from his body. I always manage to get that shy, coy smile from him as he looks up from under his eyelashes and it takes all of my self-control not to push him up against the bar and take him right there. Only the ice cold trepidation of people watching keeps me in check. Christ, there's nothing like him.
One taste and I was hooked. Had to have him. Had to see him in my bed, under me. Panting, writhing. I thought he'd be all shyness and nerves. Never been so wrong in all my life. The boy's filthy and best of all shameless.
In the cellar. His fear was reassuring. He thought he was going to get a beating. I was firmly in control. A couple of quick kisses to make sure he was with me, that he wanted me. It was like the flood gates opened. The intensity. It was him. He was full on and that control that I had was in danger. He kissed with everything he had in him and I gave it back. It was a battle but I managed to gain control pushing him back against the wall.
His hands were everywhere, anywhere he could reach, not that I was much better. I had him and I wanted him. I went for his belt. He knew I was in control, wouldn't dare go for mine first.
I released his cock, took a moment to get the feel of it before I took it in all the way to the root. He swore and banged his head against the wall. He moaned. It went straight through me. His hands were wondering and unsure until I took one and placed it on my head. I let him have that freedom and in return I get little gasps and groans, half swears and my name. Well worth it. When he comes, he sagged a little down the wall, painting. He looked wrecked, beautiful.
A moment later he slid to his knees and looked up at me, asking permission. I undid my own belt.
'I've never done… I don't know what to do.' He was so shy it was painful as he kneeled on the cellar floor, all eyelashes and a faint blush across his cheek.
I promised to go easy. I talked him through it. Gave myself a moment to trace his lips with my cock before he licked, looked up at me again then took a little into his mouth. I let him gain his confidence. But that lad was born to suck cock. He didn't have the technical skills but he more than made up for it with enthusiasm. He gagged a couple of times as he tried to take me all in, stubborn, wouldn't be defeated and was I ever glad. The sight of him with my cock in his mouth, the glances he kept giving me for reassurance, it was more than enough to get me off.
I kissed him to taste myself on his tongue and he screwed up his face a little and flushed. I kissed him again and he seemed to take the hint.
The cellar was no place for his first time, or ours for that matter. I wanted to explore him. See under that uniform and confirm all my fantasies.
The tattoo was a surprise. A pleasant one. His body was everything I imagined and everything I wanted. Slender hips, gorgeous long back leading to the finest arse I have seen.
I had planned to take it slower but in the end his movements were too much, he was full on every part of him involved in a kiss never mind anything else. He was begging for it. He got nervous when I started rubbing lube around his hole but desperation soon set in and my new found favourite sound track started. I prepared him gently and thoroughly despite his best efforts to get me to just get on with it. He didn't understand that it would hurt no matter how much I didn't want it to. He was writhing, wrecked and glistening wonderfully under the light.
I entered him slowly, forced myself to take my time because he was a virgin and Jesus he was tight. I indulged myself in knowing that I was the first. His first. By the time I was fully inside he was arching off the bed, panting with tears in his eyes. It took a few moments, felt like a life time in cased in his heat before his hips started to move and I took that as my cue.
As soon as I started moving inside him the floodgates had opened and the raw passion had come shining through. I've never had anyone like that before. I've slept with plenty of men and I've never felt anything like I did when he was under me.
He had started begging for it. Harder. Faster. A litany of pleas on his tongue mixed with groans and moans, legs wrapping higher up my body as he looked for deeper penetration almost bending himself in two, hands all over my back and shoulders alternating between gripping me and gripping the sheets. I've never had anyone that hot before. I mean Jesus the state of him. It was the most intense, most carnal fucking I've ever been involved in.
It may well have gone sideways for a while. He tried to push his limits but I put him back in his place but I knew what I had felt and he felt it too. That high was addictive and I knew that I could get him back, back in line and under control everywhere but the bedroom.
He still steps out of line, but that's his nature and I'm not sure I can tame it completely. I'm not sure I would change it either. It part of what makes fucking him so satisfying.
Finally he comes back into sight, carrying glasses and he catches my eye smiling a little. I know that smile, sweet but hiding dirty thoughts, he's got a filthy mind that lad and I have a true appreciation of it.