He had that old familiar ache in his body. The same ache that he'd felt his whole life, that he'd tried to silence, but no amount of denial had managed to bury. It seemed to reach into his bones, go to the very heart of him, from the tips of his toes to his head of dark brown hair, and finally settled around his cock, making it strain and feel uncomfortably tight in his pants.

Brendan Brady wanted to fuck someone, and he wanted it tonight.

He had a steady stream of connections that he could access. Chez Chez, where he'd found his first shag after leaving prison, the boy's lips eager and willing as he'd kissed him, a throng of dancers surrounding them, the beat of the music echoing in his eardrums.

He dismissed that idea almost immediately. Too close to home. He couldn't risk Cheryl seeing and asking questions. He should never have exposed her to that part of his life.

It was too late to go to a hotel, where he'd picked up a blonde lad and a bullet in the same night, marking him out as invincible, before he'd realised he was anything but.

He couldn't go to the place he most wanted to, the place where he'd been a thousand times before, like a path was forever leading him there, irresistible and dangerous. He'd close his eyes at night and his vision would be flooded with the beauty of him. Long lashes. Eyes so blue that they were like vast oceans. Lips red and pouting, and never more tempting than when they'd been rubbed raw by his moustache. A lithe, pliable body that was golden in colour, its skin as soft as velvet. Hair that was shaven at the sides, crying out to be nuzzled. Hands that were both delicate and firm, hands which grabbed and clasped and stroked and adored. Hands which Brendan liked to hold, even though he knew he shouldn't, because it made letting go that much harder. A cock that was smaller than his own, but no less impressive. The way it would stand up, thick and proud, covered in lightly coloured veins, surrounded by a smattering of dark, wiry public hair. A cock oozing with pre cum.

No, he couldn't go back there. He couldn't listen to the boy's addictive and pointless chatter. Hear that impossibly loud, filthy laugh. To be in his presence was to feel completely alive and completely dead at the same time. It thrilled him and terrified him. He didn't know what was worse, Steven looking at him with hate and revulsion, his lips meeting Douglas's like some form of private torture, or the boy inviting him in, forgiving him. Both carried their own kind of pain.

But that ache wouldn't go away.

He got out his phone, going through his list of contacts. His pulse juddered quickly as he moved past Lynsey's name, and then stilled as it landed on another's. He took an intake of breath, wondering whether to make the call. The last time had been...interesting. Not what he'd expected, but then nothing ever was with this particular man. He'd learnt that early on when they'd been in prison together. He'd stopped trying to second guess his motives, because he'd discovered that the man lived by his own set of rules and codes that Brendan didn't entirely understand, but which he had a strange sense of respect for. The man was a survivor, a fighter. He could relate.

Placing his finger on the call button, he waited as the dial tone began to connect.

"Hello?"

That same old smoky tone, its accent difficult to place. There was a certain masculinity to it, how deep it was, how suggestive he managed to make the most mundane of phrases. Brendan suddenly remembered that night in the office, how the man's voice had commanded him to go faster, to push in deeper. There had been no hint of uncertainty or nervousness. His voice had rang out loud and sure, and the sound of it had remained in Brendan's head afterwards, the way it had begged and pleaded, but yet had never been submissive, not for one second. He struggled to contain an all over body shudder at the thought of how he'd pounded into him, his senses feeling like they were being ripped apart. How the man had been deep and accommodating, rolling his hips up for more. And that voice, that had spoken through the darkness.

"More, Brendan."

"Hello, Walker."

There was silence for a moment. Was he surprised to get a call from him, at one o'clock in the morning? If he was, he hid it well.

"You alright?"

"I'm going to need you to come over." There was no point in prolonging this, not tonight. Not with the way he was feeling.

"Cheryl's at the club. Joel's at Theresa's." He lowered his tone, purposefully making it clear exactly what his intentions were.

"I'll be over in ten minutes."

Just like that.


When he heard a short, sharp knock on the door, Brendan stilled his movements. He'd been pacing ever since he'd made the call, restless, his hands fidgeting in anticipation. Putting down his glass of Jameson's, he slowly opened the door, then lent back against it, allowing Walker to move past him. He locked it afterwards. No one was going to interrupt them.

It was a cold night outside, and Walker had one of his trademark jackets on, zipped all the way to the top. Brendan held out his hand for it, and Walker took it off, exposing that long neck of his, the skin there having healed since their last encounter. There was no sign of the marks that Brendan had left there, the small indents of his teeth which had grazed over Walker's flesh. Walker smirked as he saw Brendan's eyes traveling over it.

"So, we're alone?" Walker asked, moving closer to Brendan, like a cat surveying its prey.

Brendan's eyes never left his.

"Business call, is it?" Walker continued, and he reached forwards, running his hands over Brendan's chest, which was frustratingly still covered by a shirt, its buttons undone just enough so that Walker could see the patchwork of hair that permeated Brendan's chest.

"Not exactly," Brendan said, and he grabbed hold of Walker's face, pulling it to his own. Their mouths immediately met, and they were like two starving men having their first meal. They devoured each others lips, sucking so hard that they felt the oncoming blood rising to the surface. It was a frenzy of tongues, warm and wet, and Brendan had to hold back a groan at the taste of Walker; sweet, heady and intoxicating.

He pushed him back towards the bedroom, and they never stopped kissing as they climbed the stairs. When they were on the landing, Brendan once again used his hands on Walker's chest to guide him to the bed. Walker's back made contact with the mattress, and the strength of Brendan caused him to start panting, trying to get his breath back after the wind had been knocked out of him. He was making the same obscene sound that he'd made when Brendan had pushed him against the wall in the office, and Brendan felt himself growing hard at the mere noise.

Brendan lay on top of him, their chests rubbing together, the friction of it causing them both to sweat through their clothes. Brendan kissed everywhere that he could get access to - Walker's mouth, his cheek, his neck, his jaw, until he sucked on his earlobe, enjoying the way that the tender flesh felt under his lips. He gripped Walker's earring in between his teeth, and the shiny silver metal tasted cold in comparison to the warmth of his ear. He tongued it, wetting the area with his saliva, as Walker's hands clawed at his back encouragingly. He was going to be left with scratch marks there tomorrow, but he didn't care. He wanted to be left with a mark of the man, the mark of sex.

Walker tried to flip him over, to have more leverage. Brendan could tell that he was torn between his desire to have control this time, and the way his body was already disintegrating at the seams, his cock tenting his trousers, his breath coming fast and shallow. It was pure power play, the way that both men fought for dominance, desperately trying to keep their emotions wrapped away as much as possible, held back from the other.

Walker's hands worked the buttons of Brendan's shirt, hastily trying to get them undone as quickly as possible. He burst one of the buttons in his need to see Brendan's naked flesh, and made a small, almost inaudible whining sound when Brendan stilled his movements. Brendan wasn't going to let Walker undress him first.

"Wait," he groaned, and it was an effort to do so. He tried to keep his voice measured.

"You first," he whispered heatedly into Walker's ear.

Walker drew back, and for the first time a slight frown appeared on his face.

"What?"

His hand remained on Brendan's chest, as if reluctant to let go.

"You take your clothes off first. In front of me. Stand." Brendan motioned to the carpet in front of the bed.

The uncertainty left Walker's face, and he trailed his hand slowly away from Brendan's chest as he stood. He stared into Brendan's eyes as he stood before him, and Brendan settled back onto the pillow, resting his arms around his head.

Walker's t-shirt landed in a heap on the floor. Brendan's eyes travelled from his face to his chest, taking in the bronzed figure before him. Walker's clothes masked the defined muscles that lay underneath, the pink, erect nipples that were designed to be licked. Walker smiled at him, knowing the effect that he had, and slowly ran his fingers over his chest, stroking the skin there. His eyes never left Brendan's.

Brendan felt his own hands go to his jeans, and they unbuckled them in on fluid motion. He reached into his boxers and felt his hands glide over his cock. It was already hard, and he spit into his palm before stroking it slowly, almost in time with Walker's own strokes on his chest. He could see Walker's pupils dilate from where he was sitting, and they seemed to grow darker with lust, as he stared down at Brendan's ministrations. Brendan's movements on his cock felt impossibly good. It was that level of satisfaction that he couldn't reach on his own unless he was thinking of Steven, and that only left him with a hollow twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach. He desperately wanted to take off his boxers and finger his hole, but then he saw Walker reach for his own trouser buckle, and Brendan's hands froze.

Being a spectator was no longer enough.

"Stop," he murmured, and raised his boxers to cover himself. He walked over to Walker, as the man's hands rested over the opening of his trousers. Walker stared at him curiously, his expression changing to that of raw desire as Brendan began to unzip him. When he had his trousers off, Brendan could see the light pubic hair that resided just below Walker's stomach. It was fair, far less noticeable than Brendan's own, but there was something about it that held Brendan's attention, and made him reach out his hands and touch it. It was like a promise of things to come.

Pulling down Walker's boxers so that they bundled around his ankles, Brendan's hand found its way to the base of his cock. It was large, even when flaccid, and even more so now that it was hard. Seven inches, Brendan guessed. Just enough for him to fuck him hard if occasion called for it, but not too much that he would gag. Not that that was a problem that Brendan had experienced in a long time.

Walker gave him a smug smile, as if recognising Brendan's fixation with it. He cocked his head to the side, as if offering a challenge. Go on then, he seemed to be saying. Show me what you've got. Brendan returned the smile, as his hand grazed over the foreskin. Walker fought to keep his eyes open as Brendan's hand moved, assuredly and expertly, stroking him in the way he knew drove him crazy. His head slumped forward, and he sucked down on Brendan's shoulder as he continued to run his hand over Walker's erect cock. He felt like he was going to burst. He scraped his teeth along Brendan's skin, trying to prevent himself from shouting out for Brendan to touch him faster. He wouldn't let Brendan have that satisfaction. Besides, there were other ways to make him satisfied.

Brendan knew the exact time when to stop. He could sense that Walker was close, and he wanted the man to be writhing in need for him when he fucked him, not coming before the main event. It took a great deal of effort to withdraw his hand. Walker's mouth unclosed from around his shoulder, and he looked at Brendan with heated eyes and spit slicked lips. He stubbornly tried to place Brendan's hand back on his cock, but Brendan laughed throatily.

"Patience, yeah?"

Walker knew the power was shifting, and roughly threw Brendan back onto the bed, before crawling on top of him. He straddled Brendan, staring down at him with glazed eyes. He then reached over to the side of the bed, making sure that he kept Brendan in place with his legs. He opened the small bag that he had brought with him, and removed a dildo, holding it firmly in his palm. It felt rubbery and cold, but Walker had learnt that Brendan liked it. It was smaller in size than either of them, but Brendan seemed to prefer it that way, for reasons that Walker couldn't fathom. Brendan had discovered that Walker had an array of toys and devices, handcuffs and dildos being his specialty.

He spread his legs eagerly now, as far as they would open. Walker squirted some lube from a new bottle that he had brought, rubbing it over the dildo until it was shining. He wasn't too concerned with hurting Brendan. He knew that the man could take the pain, that it lived side by side with pleasure for him.

He teasingly placed the dildo over Brendan's hole, rubbing it against it again and again. Brendan moaned, trying to push back against it for more, but Walker refused him every time, keeping up his game, making Brendan lick his lips from wanting it so much. Walker pushed in a little deeper each time, then withdrew before Brendan's insides had encased it all. After doing this several times, Brendan grabbed hold of Walker's wrist and forced it forward, making the dildo enter into his anus. He sighed as Walker relented in his back and forth, and gave Brendan what he wanted. He kissed down on the man's lips as he moved the dildo, filling Brendan up entirely. Brendan's natural position had always been to top. There was something about having that control over someone, of being so deeply inside them that he got off on. There was nothing else like it. But sometimes, he just wanted to be fucked. He wanted someone pushing against that pleasure spot right inside him, that made his toes curl and his body come off the bed. Walker relished this need in him, and he drove the dildo in, reveling in the way that Brendan's cheeks were flushed, sweat dripping from his forehead. He uttered profanities under his breath, including a long drawn out "Walker" when he moved the dildo inside him in a way that had Brendan's cock growing to even larger proportions.

But the games weren't over, and Brendan owed Walker for his teasing before. He withdrew the dildo slowly, and Brendan stared up at him, spread eagled from where he lay, his arm pit hair fluffy and damp from his exertions. Walker licked a trail down it, the musky flavour filling his mouth, the hair soft. He wanted to taste every inch of this man. Every dark, dirty inch.

"Your turn," Walker propositioned, his eyebrows raised. This is how things worked between them, the constant shift between Walker being in charge, leading things, testing Brendan's limits, to Brendan making him do his bidding, exposing Walker's vulnerability, the strength of his passion for him.

Brendan grinned at him, the challenge accepted. He roughly rolled them both over, so Walker landed on his back, Brendan on top. He scooted closer to him, his ass traveling from Walker's chest to his face, before his cock dangled in front of Walker's lips. Brendan made sure not to lean his full body weight on him so he didn't crush the man. Walker's lips parted hungrily as he surveyed Brendan's cock, and his hands reached out to massage the tendrils of Brendan's flexed back. Walker opened his mouth, ready to take in Brendan's full girth, wanting to suck him into oblivion, so that all he was left with was a twitch of body movements.

But Brendan had other ideas. He could think of other uses for Walker's mouth.

He moved closer to the front of the bed, so that his ass came into further contact with Walker's lips, a silent plea for Walker to rim him. Walker held Brendan securely in place with his hands, and his tongue lapped at his hole like a thirsty cat. It was soft in there, dark hair covering Brendan's hole, and Walker's tongue coiled and twisted, succeeding in making Brendan as wet as possible. Brendan rocked back and forth, setting the pace. He fucked himself on Walker's mouth while fisting his own cock, and Walker pulled him down closer, to give him better access. The taste of Brendan was indescribable, and Walker knew he wanted more of it. Brendan gripped the sheets, his knuckles white, until even that wasn't enough. He smashed his hand against the wall, swearing at the top of his lungs as Walker's tongue drove into him repeatedly. It was acting out what Brendan's cock most desperately wanted to do, and if he didn't get inside Walker soon, he'd come all over his stomach and Walker's face. The thought of Walker licking his cum only made him more aroused, and he moved down in the bed, and had Walker's legs wrapped around his waist in an instant, so quickly that Walker's tongue was still visible, still feeling as though it was prickling from its movements.

Despite his size, Walker was flexible, and could have easily hooked his legs around Brendan's shoulders if he'd needed to. But Brendan didn't have time for that. He inserted a slick finger inside of him, searching and stretching, watching as Walker's face creased at the feel of it. Ideally Brendan would have liked to add a third finger, but he stopped after the second, his desire to be inside the man almost feral.

Putting a condom on and using the lube, he lined himself up, then hesitated at Walker's entry. He needed to hear it.

"Fuck me, Brendan."

He entered him then. Brendan wasn't the only one who was a masochist. Walker relished the feeling of being torn in two. It burned, but he knew what was on the other side of it, how it felt when Brendan got going. He waited.

Brendan's thrusts started out unhurriedly, his hands gripping at Walker's chest, his nails digging in. They both liked it fast though, and neither was in the mood to play games now. Brendan moved quicker, watching as Walker's eyes seemed to get larger and larger, his mouth parted in a 'O' shape. Brendan was the biggest man Walker had been with, but as he pounded into him, his cock hitting his prostate, Walker never wanted him to stop. He'd happily tie Brendan up in his room for all eternity, being fucked so hard by him that his balls throbbed like they were going to explode.

They both hated to let the other see them in the rawest stages of desire. There was something primal about it, something that they tried to conceal from the other, lest they used it against them. But with Brendan's thrusts increasing in their speed, and Walker fitting around him like a glove, both men couldn't help but scream out the others name.

They fell off the bed, and Brendan quickly repositioned himself before continuing, the carpet burning them as they moved against it. Brendan whispered in his ear when he was close to coming, and Walker wrapped a hand around his cock and jerked himself off, so that when they came, they came together, a pent up release inside both of them that was almost painful in its execution.

They lay exhausted in each others arms, Walker's stomach sticky with his own cum. Brendan discarded the condom, his legs aching as he walked over to throw it in the bin. He was sweating profusely, and his heart was still hammering. He needed to cool down.

"You want a shower?"

Walker looked him over. He was lying on the floor, his legs still open, his cock now soft. He nodded, and Brendan reached out a hand to him, hoisting him up.

They stepped underneath the water, Walker raising his face to the jet stream, allowing it to soak his face. His hair was glistening, and Brendan stroked it with his fingertips, enjoying the feel of its soft wetness. He got out a bottle of shower gel and squirted some over them, rubbing it into Walker's chest. Walker returned the favour, paying particular attention to Brendan's stiff pink nipples. After showering them clean, he lent forward and tongued them, suckling on the delicate area. Brendan made a guttural sound, fingering the back of Walker's head, smoothing over the spot in circular movements. Walker sucked on Brendan's nipple roughly, his tongue darting out and moistening it, so that it gleamed with saliva when he removed his lips.

"Good boy," Brendan said, and he gave him his reward. Leaning back on his knees, Brendan soaped over Walker's groin, massaging his cock. Walker watched him from his position against the tiles, allowing the warm water to run over them.

Brendan started at Walker's thighs, licking the light hair there, creating a wet patch. He then moved towards his balls, and put his mouth around them. Walker encouraged his head closer, and Brendan sucked at the loose sack, his tongue landing on the underside. Walker's responsiveness led Brendan on further, and he dropped his balls from his mouth, and grasped the base of Walker's cock. He puts his lips around it, feeding it into his mouth, shivering at the feel of the skin rubbing against his gums.

As the water continued to wash over them, both men knew unequivocally that they would both be back there, in that same flat, time and time again.