Title: once More (With Feeling)
Chapter Title: Need Some Company?
Disclaimer: I have no claim…on Hollyoaks.
Ok, this is an AU where Brendan Brady and Simon Walker meet, under very different circumstances. Prompt given by TrekkieGirl, who asked for hooker!Walker. Thanks for the prompt. :)
Idling along the kerb in his silver Mercedes, Brendan peered through the side window out into the dark street. The nearest lamppost was on the other side of the road, only throwing faint rays of light across. Brendan let the car crawl and then smoothly halt, right beside the open mouth of an alleyway. He glanced across his shoulder, the seatbelt taut against him, as he stared into the darkness. Now he was closer, it was easier to see. The little flickers of movement caught his eye, thin figures leaning against the brick walls that formed the three-sided cover from the wind. Boys, men, it was difficult to read ages in the night. And many of them wore make-up. His lip curled.
He wound down his window and braced himself for the shadowy bodies moving closer. First up was a young man, could barely have been more than eighteen. His black hair was gelled and Brendan saw glitter on his face.
"Hey," the prostitute smiled. "How 'bout some-"
"No." Brendan said immediately. The lad was too young.
Another man approached the car and asked Brendan if he wanted him. The whore was cheap- and Brendan was tempted, but when he turned his car light on and saw how haggard and haunted the man's face was, Brendan rejected him too. He was ashamed enough that he'd have to pay for sex right now, and seeing that drawn, dead face would only remind him of this. The rent boys flocked to his car, a sea of false attraction and eager voices, but they repulsed him. He hadn't thought it would be this hard to find someone he'd enjoy fucking, but no matter how many layers of make-up were plastered to their faces, their eyes were dead and soulless, something missing from them, and that absence made Brendan recoil.
He was ready to give it up and head home, but then something caught his eye. At first, he couldn't be sure what it was, and then he realised that it was the small orange glow of a lit cigarette. At the bottom of the alleyway, alone and apart from the hookers, and Brendan in his car, was a man. Smoking. The man stepped out of the shadows and Brendan saw brown hair and a pale face. Something stirred inside him.
The young prostitute (who'd only retreated a few steps after Brendan's rejection) saw him staring. "What you lookin' at?" he asked. Although he knew the answer.
"Who," Brendan asked, pointing out of the car without a care of what this mysterious man would think. "Is that?"
"Oh, you don't want him…"
"Who is he?"
"I've- I've never spoken to him but his name's Simon, I think. But we don't use our real names, so-"
"Get him."
The rent boy looked baffled and Brendan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You want me to…get him?"
Without taking his eyes off the man with the cigarette, Brendan drew out a crisp banknote and waved it dismissively. He felt the paper gently slip from his fingers and then the rent boy had sauntered down to where the man was. Brendan watched their exchange with a frustration he couldn't quite understand. He rolled his window back up to avoid the persistent whores, and undid his seat belt, relaxing back into the leather. He pictured the man again in his mind, or what he could see of him, that angular face and the dark brown hair. What surprised him was how quickly this was arousing him, he could feel himself growing hard and when he slipped a hand down his trousers to curl around his cock, the anticipation was heightening pleasurably, making that simple contact of his hand on his crotch stronger, and he groaned.
Two insistent raps on the glass cut through his thoughts. Instinctively, he knew it wasn't the rent boy from earlier, and his eyes snapped open. He wound the window down without trying to look too eager, and then Simon bent down, and Brendan's eyes connected with his.
"So…" Simon said. "You need some company?"
Brendan kept looking into Simon's steady gaze and nodded. "Get in." he said.
Brendan watched from the corner of his eye as Simon opened the door, slipping into the vehicle. Now that the man was closer, his cigarette-breath invading the car and the weary lines on his strained face sharper in the harsh light, Brendan wondered whether this was a bad idea. But one thing he hated was indecision so he turned the key in the ignition and gestured to the glove box with his free hand, saying over the velvet purr of the engine- "I keep breath mints in there. Take the hint."
He found he was breathing shallowly, so he could hear Simon over his own breath, so he could listen out for the small, subtle sounds Simon made, like the quiet click of the tic-tac against Simon's teeth, and the appreciative "mmm" he gave at the effortless acceleration of the sophisticated car. Brendan smiled to himself, glad that his own good taste wasn't wasted.
He parked in a nearby alleyway- this one thankfully empty. Simon looked puzzled but went to get out anyway, but was stopped by Brendan's hand on his arm.
"No, we'll do it here." Brendan said. Seeing the look on Simon's face, he let out a short bark of a laugh. "Surely you've done this before, or do your clients insist on wooing you in The Hilton?"
"No steamy nights in The Hilton, I'm afraid," Simon answered blandly. "But they have been known to fuck me in an alleyway, smash my face in and then take their money back before zipping off into the night…"
Brendan blanched. He suddenly felt terribly foolish, assuming Simon's life wouldn't be plagued with the dangers that other rent boys faced. Sitting in his car, in a filthy alley, and a street-wise whore seated across him, calmly describing the times he'd been beaten and robbed blind, he felt another flicker of doubt, more insistent this time. For all he knew, this man would rob him, or bring his pimp to kick Brendan's head in. he inspected at Simon more closely. Now that he was looking for it, he noticed the cuts on Simon's face, the faint purple shadow of a healing bruise near his temple. There was nothing he could say, no killer Brendan Brady line to utter, so he resorted to sarcasm.
"They want refunds? Are you really that bad?"
Simon snorted. "Hardly. But they want to have their cake and eat it too. There's something about having consensual sex with a person but having to hand over your hard-earned wages for it. There's a shame in it, I think."
Brendan couldn't believe it! "Don't defend them!"
"I'm not," Simon replied. "But I'm saying I know why some of them get a bit rough. Frustration, anger, shame. But just think of this- no matter how ashamed you feel- think of how ashamed the person who is having to sell their own body for cash is feeling."
Simon's words made Brendan think. He didn't even realise he was leaning forward, fascinated, until the seat belt hampered his movements and he had to unbuckle it. "So how did you get into all this, then?"
"Selling myself, you mean? I'd rather not talk about it, ta. Made some mistakes, got in trouble with the worst kind of people, and now I'm…here."
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're a bit old to be a rent boy-"
"Eugh, don't even start- rent boy! That sounds so stupid. And yes, I'm not some simpering young thing but you know what?" Simon's gaze hardened. "I don't have a lot of options, right?"
Brendan looked away, swallowing hard. "Sorry." he muttered.
"S'okay. I'm just venting, it's not your fault I'm in this mess."
A few seconds ticked by.
"So…" Simon began.. "You're gonna fuck me?" He smiled as Brendan raised an eyebrow at the words. "Or…" Simon snatched up Brendan's wallet, which lay in the glove box alongside the breath mints. "Oh, here we go- driver's licence- your name's Brendan Brady, that's a nice name! So, Mr Brady- are you going to sleep with me? Or are we going to talk all night?"
Brendan smiled and pulled Simon in for a kiss. When their lips met, Brendan groaned in relief, it had been too long, far too long .Clicking open Simon's seatbelt with his free hand, Brendan couldn't deny that the thought he had this man, was paying him to do anything that Brendan desired, was making him hard.
Simon crawled into Brendan's lap as soon as he was freed from the belt, and Brendan shivered in delight at the warm, heaviness settling on his thighs. He was crying out for this, he'd missed this so much. Past caring, he buried his face in Simon's neck, inhaling the masculine musk of another male, hearing, dragging his eager tongue up Simon's neck and pushing the appendage harder against the flesh so he could feel the fine bone work through the thin layer of skin. Simon probably was very busy, he thought with a hot burst of anger, probably had lots of clients to see tonight, so would want to rush. Fine, he could deal with that. He grabbed Simon's hips, relishing the roughness of the denim of Simon's jeans scraping his palms. He felt alive, he felt in control and everything about this was so right. The times he's repressed what he truly wanted, lying on soft sheets with beautiful women, when he could having this, rutting against a gigolo past his prime, in a shiny Mercedes in a dirty alleyway. Nothing could be compared to this paradise.
Brendan gasped as Simon's hand found its way down the front of Brendan's trousers, and he hissed as the strap on Simon's digital watch scratched his skin, he reached down and ripped the damn accessory off, then brought Simon's now-bare hand up to his face. This was about more than fucking a faceless body; this was about languishing in this encounter, trying all the things he wasn't meant to have, tasting the forbidden fruit. Brendan licked at Simon's wrist, pushing at where a vein throbbed, feeling three thin bones form a guard of honour beneath the slightly sweating skin. He licked and bit, not caring what Simon thought of him, all he knew was he wanted to burn enough memories of this night into his brain to last him a lifetime.
Once again clutching Simon's hips, he used this grip to force Simon's body down so that he, Brendan, could arch up, making Simon hump his covered crotch. Brendan moaned at the sensation but he didn't want to come in his trousers, not like this. Pushing Simon back into his own seat, Brendan crawled onto his knees, in the driver's seat. Simon watched on curiously as Brendan clambered into the back, the car swaying a little from his movement. When Brendan was finally seated, he beckoned to Simon, watching as his companion joined him in the confined space.
Brendan spread his legs once Simon was seated beside him, unbuttoning his suit jacket and parting the sides so they no longer hid his belt, his hips. Simon watched on as Brendan unbuckled his belt, letting the leather strap hang limply from the belt loops, this simple gesture speaking volumes. Simon had already slithered down to kneel between Brendan's legs, so it wasn't really necessary for Brendan to say "I want you to suck my cock, Simon." But he said it anyway.
Simon was efficient, drawing out a condom from his jeans pocket, opening it quickly while Brendan unfastened his trousers and slipped them, along with his underwear, down to his knees. He barely had a moment before Simon's mouth was on his cock, warm and wet, too much contact after too long…if he'd had a worry that Simon wasn't using the condom, it faded when Simon took him in to the root; he must have put the unwrapped condom in his mouth before swallowing Brendan whole, because Brendan felt the thin rubber ease cover his cock with Simon's mouth swiftly following.
"Uh, please," he bucked up when Simon swallowed around his cock again, marvelling at how Simon didn't gag at how much of Brendan he was taking into his mouth. Must have had practice, he thought viciously, grabbing a handful of Simon's hair with one hand. Brendan thighs ached as he fucked Simon's mouth in hard, quick thrusts. He didn't want to overanalyse this, but maybe he was trying to chase away the taste of other clients, to this man. Even though they all surely wore condoms when Simon serviced them. His climax had swept down on him, or maybe swept him up, he certainly hadn't thought it would take such a short time for him to- he didn't want to- not right now- he wanted to be inside Simon when he-
"Uh! Yes yes yes…" His sense of shame only increased as he pathetically whined, tightening his hold on Simon's hair as he came. Simon kept sucking on rubber like the good little worker he was, until the over-stimulation became too much to bear and Brendan pushed him away with a shaking hand.
"Th-that was good. I liked- you were…um…" Fuck, what was wrong with him, why couldn't he speak normally? Brendan concentrated on getting his breath back, but the shadow Simon cast over him hadn't yet moved. Belatedly, he realised Simon was waiting for payment. Brendan scowled.
"Thanks mate. I aim to please." Simon said, somewhat unnecessarily, and silence fell over them. Brendan knew Simon was trying to work his way to asking about payment, but Brendan couldn't let him do that. He couldn't let Simon slip off into the night, not yet. His eyes followed the contours of Simon's face and he realised something.
"That wasn't enough. I want to go again." It was worth it just to see the look on Simon's face.
"I'll pay," Brendan added. "I'll pay extra."
"Ok," Simon seemed to be considering this. "How long do you think it'll take you to," he coughed, face flaming. "To get hard again?"
Brendan brought a bottle out of his pocket and passed it over Simon accepted the container of lubricant with confusion. "As long as it takes you to finger yourself." he replied.
"You want to fuck me?" Simon asked and then muttered "You want to fuck me." Under his breath, as if in resignation. Brendan smirked, taking off the condom and tying it in a knot, careful not to spill the semen trapped inside it. He retrieved a carrier bag he's bought his morning paper in, and tossed the used rubber inside- the bag would serve as a rudimentary bin. Brendan fished out an unused condom from his pocket and watched as Simon hesitantly took his own clothes off.
Simon didn't take off any more than he had to; he kept his top on but pushed his trousers down to his knees. Brendan noticed he wasn't wearing any underwear and he smiled. That smile disappeared when it occurred to him that Simon wasn't aroused. Brendan felt a wave of shame pass through him, he wanted Simon to enjoy this. The idea of Simon hard and ready for him, wanting it, of Brendan being able to mean something more to Simon than just another bunch of banknotes made him feel dizzy.
"I suppose you have a plan in mind if some copper comes around the corner and catches us in the act?" Simon said in a conversational tone, as he stuck a finger in the bottle. Brendan watched on as Simon crooked the finger then straightened before withdrawing it, the digit now slick with the gel. Brendan shrugged while Simon repeated this with his other fingers. It wasn't the method Brendan normally chose but it seemed to be working for Simon.
"I do have a plan- Operation: Get The Fuck Out. Or maybe he'll like it, and stay around for the fun."
Simon chuckled but Brendan's breath hitched at the rasp to the sound. At that moment, Simon had stuck a wet finger inside himself.
"Simon- turn around. I want to see you do it." Brendan waited on tenterhooks as Simon shuffled around on his hands and knees, until he was no longer facing Brendan.
He almost moaned when he saw Simon's hole, ready for the man's fingers, soon to be ready for Brendan's cock. He loved how Simon had no hesitation now, there was a brazenness to the way he roughly shoved a finger inside himself, stabbing it ruthlessly in and out, then pushed back on it as if it wasn't hurting him, as if he wanted this. Brendan gasped, an intake of breath when Simon added two fingers, scissoring them apart with a pained hiss.
"Touch your cock. I want to see you like it." Brendan told him, and Simon was quick to do just that; pumping his own flaccid penis where it flopped listlessly, until(to Brendan's pleasure) it hardened somewhat. Now that he wasn't in danger of losing interest, Simon started fingering himself again, stretching himself and bearing the unpleasantness, when at last he collapsed down on the car floor, panting, sweating and half-hard
Brendan joined him on the floor with difficulty, taking advantage of Simon's pliant body to position him accordingly: on his knees, facing the middle back seat, with his hands resting near the seatbelt. At last, he had Simon ready and waiting for him. His to use. Brendan slipped on his condom and pressed himself against Simon's back, in a clumsy hug. He felt Simon press against him too, and that pressure against his cock made him moan again. He slipped a couple of fingers up Simon's arse, appreciating the moist, slick feel of the lubricant, savouring this one moment. Then caught hold of Simon's hips and thrust in hard.
This was perfect. His senses were blinded by Simon, feeling, seeing, hearing, smelling and even tasting him when he licked a wet stripe up Simon's neck. He wanted to make this last but he knew this wasn't going to be long, so he fucked into him hard and fast. Simon didn't moan, but his low grunts accompanying each thrust spurred Brendan on- he wanted to make this unflappable man fall apart at the seams.
Soon, he was pushing into him so hard that the car was rocking back and forth, an irritating rhythmic squeaking of metal becoming the background sound of their coitus, and he knew he was going hard from the way Simon held the middle seat belt with shaking fingers and white knuckles. Before he could lose himself completely, Brendan grasped Simon's cock, feeling deliriously pleased when he felt it hard and dripping pre-cum in his hand. It only took a few experienced strokes before Simon was coming, and oh, Brendan was so glad he wasn't swept up in his own orgasm, so happy he could witness it.
The only downside was that he couldn't see Simon's face when he came- but the startled sound of surprise as Simon's client brought him off was enough. Simon bucked into Brendan's hand with desperation, shock harshening his sounds of pleasure as he peaked. Brendan soon joined him in the bliss, crying out and holding him so tightly he knew it must be hurting Simon.
His knees gave out and he fell heavily onto Simon, who succumbed to gravity too, and for a few seconds, neither man said a word, concentrating on getting their breathing back to normal. Brendan was stunned. He didn't know when he'd ceased thinking about his work troubles( which were, after all, more worrisome than the average issues of the rat race) or his own frustrations, or even when his shame at having to pay for sex had been replaced by all-consuming, hungry lust. All he knew was that Simon had somehow made things…not better, but easier to cope with.
He fished in his wallet, withdrew his credit cards and then flung his wallet in Simon's direction when he'd finally pulled out and had the sense to put his trousers back on, lest a passer-by…well, passed by. He even pulled Simon's trousers back up for him, since the man hadn't yet moved from his spot on the floor.
"Here. I took my cards out. I don't know how much you charge…"
Simon finally got to his knees and accepted the leather offering. "Thanks. God. That's more than I make for one job- are you sure?"
Brendan gave a crooked smile. "Yeah. Keep the wallet too."
"Thanks. Thanks, Brendan."
"Hey, it's only a wallet, and your money- which you deserved."
Simon met his eyes. "That's…not what I meant. You made me- you- it wasn't like work." He finished, awkwardly, but Brendan knew what he meant.
"Ok, it was my pleasure," Brendan grinned at his own joke, but the grin soon faded when Simon got to his feet and opened the car door.
The evening air hit them like a brick wall, Brendan shivered and Simon didn't look much better, it was like opening the window of an aeroplane, the gale force chilling their skin. Simon glanced at Brendan over his shoulder, the wallet safely stowed away in his pocket, and his hair blowing in his eyes. Grimacing past the long brown strands, Simon said "Brendan?"
"Yes?" Brendan asked, scowling to hide the fact that the dry burn of the wind did nothing to stop the moisture forming in his eyes. This was a whore, for fuck's sake, why was he getting so caught up about a whore?
"You take care." Simon told him with feeling, before stepping outside and shutting the door firmly behind him.
Brendan barely managed a nod before he put both hands up to his face, under the pretence of rubbing the tiredness away, but really to check he wasn't actually crying. Maybe that's what it was about Simon. No pretence. He was honest with his words, about what he was, speaking clearly in that low, cautious voice about hookers, company and money troubles…
Brendan slowly lowered his hands. Jumping from the car, he set the alarm over his shoulder, sprinting through the street in unfastened trousers and an unbuttoned shirt flapping behind him like a superhero's cape.
The lonely street simply space beneath his feet as he ran, panting- he really wasn't cut out for this-until he spotted a familiar, lean figure sloping past a butcher's shop.
"Simon!" he shouted, but the combination of the cruel wind and his own exertion killed his voice. He tried again. "SIMON!" he bellowed. At last, he saw the figure pause and turn, and Brendan skidded the last few steps, Woody Woodpecker-style, staggering to a stop.
"Simon," he gasped, his panting breaths letting him do no more than stutter out Simon's name and clutch his arm like a lost child. "Simon, Simon, Jesus Christ, I- oh, Simon…"
"Brendan?" Simon asked, with an uncertain smile. Brendan wasn't fooled though; that smile was the smile a nurse gave to a confused elderly patient- it hardly meant he was pleased to see him.
"Simon, I was thinking we should- bollocks, should have written this down. Come with me," he grabbed Simon's hand. "The car's where I parked it. Come."
"You want more sex?" Simon asked him with a wrinkle of his nose. Brendan ran a frustrated hand through his hair, exasperated beyond belief at Simon not being able to comprehend his meaning.
"No, I don't fucking want- Simon- come with me. I can sort out your money troubles, you can find a place to live- live with me, whatever-"
Simon wasn't nodding or smiling- this was bad, this was very bad. Instead, he shifted his weight form one scuffed, dirty trainer to the other, a doubtful look on his face. "And what? I live…in your debt? As your…concubine?"
Brendan reeled from the venom lacing Simon's tone. His mind raced on. "No! You can come- and work for me. Work in my nightclub. Pull pints, wipe down the bar- not glamorous, but it's honest work and you'd get free beer," he smirked. "of course, if you don't want honest work, we can arrange that too."
Simon stepped closer and whispered in his ear. "Are you talking about crime, Mr. Brady?"
Brendan grinned. "It's like a taboo. You don't say it out loud, but the other person knows what you're talking about."
"And I wouldn't owe you anything? I'd just be working for you?"
Brendan held up a hand. "You have my word."
Simon leant even closer and dipped his head, letting his lips brush Brendan's jaw, still keeping his voice a sinful whisper. "And if I wanted some company myself?"
Brendan's eyes half-closed and he smiled when he felt Simon's lips touch his. "That could be arranged," he muttered. "So…what do you think?"
"Brendan, my friend," Simon laughed, clapping a hand over Brendan's shoulders. "You had me at 'Free beer'."
And they all lived slashily ever after. Hope you liked that, I had oodles of fun writing it. Let me know what you think!