Title: The Dominance Pact
Author: BipolarMolar
Disclaimer: I don't own Hollyoaks. Trust me, if I did, you'd know.
If you liked this, let me know. Last and final chapter will be...Brendan Brady bottoming! Hope you look forward to that! This is the filler chapter, where neither side tops, but Walker makes Film Night very interesting! Virtual cookies to anyone who knows what film they're watching.
It had been a week since Brendan had beaten him, taken him on the carpet like a common whore, and Walker still couldn't believe he'd let it happen. He'd never once thought that there was the possibility of him wilfully submitting to another man, but there was something about Brendan Brady that could make a man stumble, cast off his impressions and obey blindly. He knew he had to shag Brendan, needed it, and craved it so much. In that week, his nights were spent alone in his bed, touching himself whilst mentally chanting Brendan's name, picturing those blue eyes glazed with arousal, feeling Brendan's chest hair graze him as he fucked the other man. He knew he would beat Brendan, in this…pact. It was only a matter of time.
Since he'd taken Walker, Brendan had become friendlier with him. Perhaps now knowing that Walker trusted him with his body had given the Irishman a new confidence, because he seemed in a batter mood than Walker had seen for ages. He started inviting Walker round, the evening turning to night as they watched films, drank beer and even played chess (Walker never beat him on that particular front and suspected that he probably never would). Apart from the odd kiss and Brendan's hand on Walker's thigh as they watched James Bond, there hadn't been any action between him and the man. But that was all going to change.
It was on one of these film nights, that Walker found himself moving closer on the sofa, relocating the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table, as he watched the film. James Bond was hijacking a plane or something, he wasn't sure, but that's not where his interest lay. No, his attention was captivated by Brendan, the man's eyes glued to the screen as he shovelled popcorn in his mouth. Does he ever stop eating? Walker wondered, before shaking his head, dismissing the idea as unimportant. Anyway, Brendan had paused in his mastication to crow as Bond escaped, turning to Walker as if seeking confirmation for the fictional spy's latest act.
It was almost like they were in a film themselves, Walker thought dreamily as he leant in closer. Everything about this moment seemed so perfect, his lips, Brendan's lips, so close…
Suddenly the music swelled on the screen, ruining the moment. Walker scowled as Brendan faced the television again. He had to distract the man. He plucked up a piece of popcorn, slipping it past his lips. Feeling the salty kernel slip down his throat, he quietly unbuckled his belt, trying not to jostle the other man. Brendan didn't even notice. Walker chewed on another piece thoughtfully, unfastening his flies and pushing his trousers down his hips. Still no response. He didn't take his jeans completely off though, or his underwear, he just pushed them to his knees and waited. He may as well have been invisible.
Walker kept his eyes trained on the screen, but wrapped a hand round his own flaccid cock, stroking it to life. With his other hand, he fed himself a piece of popcorn, before pulling at his organ a little more sharply, biting down a groan. He was careful to keep watching Bond as he felt his cock hardening, pre-come already expectantly welling up at the head, as used that fluid to lubricate his palm.
When he stroked a hand down his shaft in just the right way, he couldn't hold back the quiet moan that rose in his throat. Although he was still watching the film as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, he kept his hand on his cock, slowly stroking, alternating between rubbing his fingers down the length and cupping his hand around his balls. His second moan attracted Brendan's attention- he saw (from his peripheral vision) Brendan turn questioningly, then freeze as he saw Walker biting down on popcorn with one hand, and jacking himself off with the other. Walker held back a smile, feeling Brendan's eyes on him, never leaving him. The movie be damned, Brendan had found something more interesting, more worthy of his attention. Walker held a kernel of popcorn between his teeth as his hips bucked up, hearing Brendan give a strangled gasp. He touched himself in agonisingly slow strokes, teasing himself, teasing Brendan as the film wore on. It was only when Bond was doing something with a sea drill that Walker began to fuck his own hand in earnest, spreading his legs so his trousers bunched around his ankles, frantically rutting against his hand, his eyes seeing Bond but hearing Brendan panting heavily. There was no pretending that Brendan was watching the film now, but Walker was.
With a cry he came, jack-knifing off the sofa with a gasp, feeling hot fluid explode into his palm, almost sobbing as he rode out the wave of endorphins, emotion. As his vision cleared and the spunk began to slide down his body to congeal in his jeans, he sat down, realising he must have stood at some point.
"You must…" Brendan coughed, trying to chase the hoarseness in his throat away. "You must really like Pierce Brosnan."
"He's alright," Walker shrugged. "There's just something irresistible about an Irishman."
