A/N:
Beautifully beta'd and some sections co-written by the amazing Kabr :D
Thank you so much for the support for the last chapter :D All the reviews were really fun to read - I love it when you all have theories! This chapter has a massive Walker shaped blackhole in it, but he will be back mwahahahaha!
Chapter Warning:
One of my favourite reviewers said I should add health warnings to this fic like you get on cigarettes so, in her honour: reading can seriously harm you and others around you.
Angst and smut and scenes some readers may find disturbing.
Oh and a pretty long chapter.
Chapter Eighteen – Ste Hay.
I sleep dead well. Proper deep and dreamless, like I aint in ages. And I wake up to him, to Brady. To his scent, and the heat that always rises from him, and the feel of his strong arm wrapped around me and that growling snore type thing he does. And it just feels normal. It's easy to forget about hell when you're back in heaven. So I turn around and press a kiss to his chest, and one to his lips. He tastes slightly different. I don't really notice at first - it's only sommit really subtle, or faded, but he aint exactly like him. There's something weird about his scent too. And then I remember him leavin' last night, when I was asleep, and coming back dead secretive and then I remember everything else.
Everything.
It all hits all at once like it's a seven tonne lorry pounding into me. And what crashes hardest is that it's Christmas, it's Christmas day and I'm not with my bro and sis.
I ruined my whole family. I let 'em down.
Suddenly I'm proper hot and I can't really breathe next to Brady so I peel meself away, out of bed. I know it's only cos I'm selfish that I'm worried about the twins. They're in a better place now. So I try to clear em from my thoughts by taking a look around. This house is smaller than Brady's other, only three bedrooms and two floors. This is the only room with anything in it, a long full length mirror, a telly and a load a pictures of the boys with different grownups. I take a look at a couple – Bren fishing with Dec, Bren pushing Paddy on a swing. But then looking at em makes more memories of Leah and Lucas beat in my brain. I can't see nothin' but em so I do what I do when memories block like that. I draw.
I find some paper shoved underneath a photo frame, grab a pen and go sit in the lounge by the window - it's cooler over there.
It turns into a drawing of last Christmas, when Leah and Lucas came to jump on me bed dead early. They always wanted to sleep in the same bed Christmas Eve and whoever woke first would wake the other. They'd sneak into the lounge to check their stocking, before waking me to look under the tree. They were so excited Santa had been. It was just some tatt I stole from Asda but it made them so 'appy.
I remember Leah sayin', "I was certain I'd been good this year!" with the biggest grin on her face, and then she teased, "weren't sure about Lucas though, me!"
I spent all morning helping em set up their toys, keepin em safe as they messed about, letting Leah make me look like a princess. I stuck on Santa Clause: The movie so they didn't wake mum and Terry and we ate all the chocolates from their stockings, Lucas kept getting a load of chocolate all around his face and told me it tasted better that way. I cleaned em up before Terry woke and made brekkie for us all. That night I got a black eye from Terry for me trouble – I'd been overstepping my place again. I used to think that he couldn't make anything hurt more than a black eye.
"Alright?" Brady asks, his voice all gruff like when he's just woken up.
I didn't notice he had gotten up, or that he had come over, stood just behind me. I'm pretty embarrassed about the drawing, I mean dead girly innit? And it's not even like I'm that good. No-one really knows I do this- other than Leah and Lucas and a couple of teachers. I definitely don't want Brady to see it. So I turn it upside down and put me foot on it. He bends down and I'm pretty certain he's gonna make me show it him.
But he don't. He just tilts my chin with his thumb like. Looks deep in me eyes. Gives me that look, you know that look like he can see inside me, right into me and that what he sees don't repulse him. I remember how he made me feel last night, like its OK to be upset, OK to cry cos it don't make me weak and I can still be not bad.
"Morning," he whispers, still looking at me like that.
I try to smile because he's done so much for me so the least he deserves is me being polite. But me thoughts are still with the twins, and I don't feel much but empty.
But Bren just sort of scoots around, scoops me between his legs, like a big proper hug. He leans his head to me shoulder. We're silent for a moment, both looking out over the houses. It's snowed a little in the night, staining the rooftops like washing powder. I hope that whatever Leah and Lucas are waking up to right now it includes this – they'd be dead excited. They proper love snow.
I remember back to a few years ago when the twins were, I think they were 5 – old enough to know what snow is. It were just after Christmas, still not back at school. It snowed proper loads and we went out and laid down making snow angels. I will never forget the smiles on their faces. We made a massive snowman – took us ages, like. I nicked Terry's scarf and hat and we had a carrot for his nose. We walked home, one each side of me so they could hold me hands.
I remember Lucas sayin', "this has been the best Christmas day ever!"
Leah laughed at him told him, "duh it was Christmas two weeks ago!"
And Lucas stuck his tongue out said like proper bossy, "it's Christmas day if all your Christmas dreams come true!"
Leah smiled and nodded, and they both said they were dead happy.
Bren brings me back to him with a quiet whisper in me ear, "they'll be OK, Steven. All their Christmas dreams will come true today."
He just proper knows me, don't he? Always.
***M&K***
Me and Brady sat there for a while, chattin' random memories about Christmas, it's nice hearin' him talk bout his boys – you can tell he proper likes bein' with them. Eventually though I needed to wake meself up so I went for a shower, I aint asked him to come with me this time. Before I left though he wrapped his arm around me dead tight, just once, just to say bye.
The moment I pick up the shower gel I can smell last night. I remember him so well it's like I can feel him. It felt like he was melltin away everything that makes me bad, every evil thing I've ever done and every fight I've ever been in, and every time I've had that thing that's not sex. He's always looked at me like I could be more than I was, could be worth something, could be good – and last night he made me feel that.
I got a little desperate though. Cos he wouldn't really touch me, like. And he's still not, so it's not really gone away. I'm this spring he's coiled and forgot to unwind.
He's different from everyone I've ever met. I get turned on whenever we do anything, even if he's just washing me! Whenever he smiles at me all I wanna do is pull him close and let him show me this world that's perfect. We've fucked in like every single position, in basically every single place but I can't ever imagine a time when I won't want more.
I proper get why he's waitin' before we do anything though. He don't wanna risk nothin' does he? But it don't help that we shared a bed, that he hugged me to him when he slept, that he keeps looking at me like that, touching me like that.
My hearts proper beatin' hard now as I think of him, and the memory's sort of heavy on me. I know, without opening me eyes, that I'm rock hard. I think about callin' him. It feels weird bein' in his house, just me and him, when I'm about to do this solo. But I know if I did call him he'd just look stressed out, he don't want nothing from me till I'm cured.
And anyways he's given me plenty of memories. I flip through them, thinking of em all and find one of me best. That time when we came back together after all that stuff with Mr Fox, you remember? That was the night Brady taught me about me body, what to do to proper pleasure meself. The first time I ever really knew meself. And all the time he was talkin he was touchin himself too - through his suit.
I'm dead hard now, just thinkin' bout it. So I run a finger down me cock and as I do I can see the way he smiled that night. He has this smile when he's proper turned on, like his lips turn up and his teeth bare and his eyes narrow and he looks like, I dunno, like you think the devil would. And he's fucking sexy. I fucking love that smile so as I touch myself I imagine it. But it's changing… it's changed…
Fuck.
It's not Brady I can see no more. The person I can see behind me eyes ain't Brady. Instead it's not somebody I ever wanna see again - it's the bloke who broke inside me, wrecked me and made me disgusting.
That other bloke makes me stomach tense and I wretch with panic. But I won't let him take this from me. So I need to get rid of every trace of him, I need him to disappear.
I pick up the shower gel, squeeze too much and release that scent, like sweet but manly, innocent but experienced and when I squeeze me eyes proper shut I focus on Brady and he's all I can see, and he stays and he smiles and it's all for him.
***M&K***
After the shower Brady's on the phone. He smiles as he sees me but it sounds like he's having an argument of some kind, he's saying like, "yeah I know Chez, look I'm sorry but… no there's nothing more important."
So I leave him to it. Take a look around the house. In one of the spare rooms there's a cupboard with a couple of jumpers and trousers in it. One of the jumpers makes me smile - it looks like sommit Lucas used to have when he was small, but big like. It fits so I keep it on. Just that and me boxers, don't bother with nothin' else before goin into the kitchen to make us breakfast.
Brady comes to the kitchen not long after and we smile at each other.
"What is that?" He says looking at the bowl in front of me.
I look down at the pancake mix which I know will be proper rubbish, but he only really had eggs and flower.
"Pancakes."
"That's pancakes?"
"I've never made them before right, you should have got some more food in!"
He settles his hands on mine, on the bowel. I can like feel the tension flow out of me, into him as he fills me with confidence. I look up at him and he smiles, like he's tellin me it's OK. It's OK to fuck things up, to be rubbish cos I will still be good.
"Do you want a hand?" He says, and then like before I even think of an answer he starts whiskin'.
He works in silence for a while and then I feel his eyes linger on me, he kinda looks like he's laughin'.
"Wha'?"
"What are you wearing?!" He asks, shaking his head a little.
I look down at myself, this white knitted jumper with random red and blue diamonds on it, "found it in the spare room – fitted so thought I could borrow it."
"There are a lot of clothes you could have borrowed, Steven – and you chose that?!" He asks raisin' an eyebrow.
"What's wrong with it?"
He shakes his head again, breaking another egg.
"It's hideous!" He smirks.
"Hey I like it, it looks kinda cute."
He glances over me. I'm not wearing owt but the jumper and boxers right? And he spends a long time looking at my arse – always used to do that. Wasn't sure I was gonna see him do it again after last night. But now I can feel the fire in his eyes - he's losing that resistance.
"You always look kinda cute, Steven." He breathes in that way that makes me smile, like he's inhalin me. My hearts beating so fast now, we've not even proper kissed yet but there's a look in his eye like a promise. "But that jumper is hideous! I keep it here for a reason."
"Why do you have it then?"
"My sister gave it me."
"It fitted you?"
"I hot washed it!" He laughs, "on purpose."
It's kinda sweet that he would keep anything his sister gives him – even if he'd go out of his way to ruin it. He has this softer side you know? It hides a lot but I think there's nothing he wouldn't do for those he cares for.
Like rescuing them from drugs, and homelessness and sellin'?... Possibly.
He's still lookin at me, but he's closer now. He's wearin' that proper posh aftershave. He's in this dark suit and he looks kinda smooth – despite the tie. He keeps lookin at my lips.
So I hook a finger under his tie, black silk, and pull him closer to me, like I'm leanin' in for a kiss but just before I whisper, "she give you this as well? Or was that Paddy?"
I let him go and he laughs, smoothin' out the tie.
"This, Steven, is class!"
"It's got snowmen on it!" Little gold snowmen.
"It's Christmas!"
"You can't use that as an excuse for everythin'"
"Really?" he chuckles, and then he puts on this proper scally accent, "mistletoe innit Bren?!"
"Right if that was supposed to be me it was a dead bad impression!"
It was a dead good kiss though, and I know we both know it – now were both thinkin' bout it too.
We're lookin' at each other, dead on, and it's like we're playin' a game – cos we both know we're gonna kiss but I'm not gonna be the one who does it first this time.
"You know Steven sometimes you're too cheeky for your own good." He whispers but I know he don't proper mean it, he likes it when I tease him.
So I keep my eyes on him, bite my lip and look at him dead low, run my eyes down his body. This resistin' he's try'na do might be quite fun.
"Why? What would be good for me?" I ask, implyin' only one thing.
He just raises his eyebrow, shakes his head smilin' like he's got a dead good joke. He walks away to put a pan on the stove and melt butter.
"Do you know how to toss?"
I can't help but smirk a little at his question, my mind playin' dirty.
"Do you know how to toss. A. Pancake, Steven?" He asks, rolling his eyes at me.
And I'm pretty sure I could if I tried but I want him to show me. So I shake my head, my hands claspin around the pan handle. He comes up behind me, his hands either side of me on the pan. Our fingers brush and my skin burns with the intensity, and he sort of breathes in proper deep, I can feel all his muscles move. He's talking me through how to toss but I can barely follow his words. Then his nose runs up my neck, into my hairline, and I can barely follow anything at all cos my hearts started a marathon.
"You smell of that shampoo," he says his voice proper deep.
"I took a shower," I say stupidly, he still makes me dumb so quick.
But then his fingers are on my chin and he's angling my face towards his.
"Nice time?" He asks, looking deep at me like he knows.
My cheeks burn proper red and I nod, my eyes unable to leave his lips, I don't think I've ever wanted anyone as much as I want him right now. I'm not sure I can take anymore resistin', I'm a lot more weak then he reckons.
He coughs at the back of his throat and puts the finished pancake on the plate, getting ready for another. There's more distance between his body and mine now, so I wiggle back into him, and he tries to hide the moan that's instinctive. I can feel him hard against me and my skin ties tight. I feel him sparkle over every cell.
"Fuck Steven," he curses right into my neck. "Do you even know how much you're testing me right now?"
"Then give in," I whisper.
I sway my arse against his cock, we fit dead well. He growls like down dead deep, he remembers, too.
"I don't want you to think you're just here for sex, or I'm just here for-"
"I don't think that."
"No?" He asks, and I can hear the sex in his voice now.
He leaves one hand on the pan and presses the other to my stomach, shucks up the jumper. Trails down to my boxers, his fingers pressing against me.
"Even when I do this?"
He runs a finger down the entire length of me, dead slow so I feel proper big, and my head drops down, I forgot how amazing I feel when he touches me.
"Steven?" He asks, proper impatient.
"It means more don't it?"
I feel his lips smile against my neck and he presses a kiss.
"Do you want this?" He always asks don' he?
I nod, my eyes fluttering shut, "please."
His hand turns the hob off. And then he proper cups me, squeezing against me and I think I might explode in just a moment, it's so intense.
"I caught you in the shower, fucking cheeky lad, God you looked magnificent," he says and you can proper hear it now, what these last few hours have done to him, how much he needs me.
"Wanna know who I was thinkin' about?" I ask, confident now his hands are on me.
I can feel him smile against my neck, proper cocky like he already knows.
"Think I already know, don't I, Steven?"
He takes a bite of my skin, I feel my skin sucked into those lips, the dent of his teeth, and can't help the moan that's hard and long. He groans proper deep, his hips rolling against mine.
"Jesus Steven, what you do to me."
"Kiss me," I beg, and he tangles my hair in his free hand, yanks my head around.
He stares at me, long and deep in my eyes, his hand still flexin and tightening around my dick, his own cock still swayin' against me arse. It feels like he stands there for ages, just looking at me, holding our kiss away for hours. But then when his mouth clashes to mine it's proper quick and proper hard, like he's impatient, like he needs to take all of me right now.
Fucking finally!
He takes me by the shoulders, and hoists me round, manhandles me through the kitchen to the bedroom. I give as good as I take, pushing off his jacket, pulling at his hair, his shoulders, his arse, everywhere I can get my hands on. Cos everywhere I touch wakes me up with memories. He's well fit. His body is so fucking perfect, hard and warm and I can feel the strength ripplin' through him.
I arch up into him, fittin on impulse even after all this time. It's like our bodies have never forgotten each other.
We sort of fall up against the wall outside the bedroom, just kissin and kissin and kissin. Kissin like we're trying get rid of all the time and all the distance and all the people that's kept us apart. Kissin like we're try'na create our own world.
My lips are kinda sore with how desperate this is, and I can feel his tache burn my skin but I wanna be marked with him.
My hips are arching and bending, I'm proper rubbing myself against him, feelin' the dent of his cock against me own, and his thighs widen as I press my hip between them.
He severs our lips. His breath flushes proper hard against me. He growls, his eyes flash like he can barely stand the thought of the distance between us. Our foreheads rest together.
"We're right next to my bedroom, Steven," he says his voice is so fucking sexy when he's this turned on. "Seriously – the bedroom's fucking there," he says his hand slammin' up against the wall as if he could knock the thing down and then we'd be at his intended destination.
"So? Not like we need it."
He grins like I'm bein' dead hot and shakes his head.
"It's been too long for a rushed grope," he says, "I need to taste every part of you, I need to know you."
"You do know me," I tell him, but I know what he means, I wanna remember every part of him too. So I bite me lip, scoot underneath his arm, reach for his hand and whisper, "take me to bed, Bren."
And he smiles at me like I'm perfect, this gorgeous grin spreading over his thin lips.
We walk hand in hand to the room and it's kinda, I dunno, sweet, I guess, like innocent. There's this anticipation in the air, but we don't stop to kiss or touch or nothin' till I close the door.
"So, where do you want me?" I ask I can feel my lips bend into a smile.
His eyes narrow for a split second like the question makes him angry, but almost like I imagined it this proper big beam goes all over his face.
"Just stay right there."
I lean against the door and he seems to take forever as he comes toward me. He undoes his tie as he goes - drops it out of his hand the moment it's undone, like it's already forgotten.
"That jumper," he says tiltin' his head to the side, "is fucking ugly, it's almost a sin that it's covering something so-" he beams, his smile like proper broad, "perfect."
He takes hold of it and lifts it away. Each move is slow, I can see his muscles tremblin' with the waitin' but it's like he needs to take a mental photo of every second.
"Perfect."
He drops the jumper to the floor and his hands run back down my torso, down my skin, over my ribs to my hips.
"So fucking perfect," he tells me and I feel it when he says it. "Touch me, Steven."
I undo his flies dead quick, and he shucks out of his suit trousers, his boxers, steppin forward so we're touchin. His naked cock touching mine through my boxers and fuck I can barely breathe past the knot of tension in me. I run my thumb over him and he grits his teeth like the pleasure's instantaneous, like he's as strung out as I am.
"Do you want me to touch you?" He whispers, dead low so it's not much but a growl.
I nod quickly, my word falling easily, "please."
His finger slides under my boxers, slides deeper, slides so I can feel a feather light touch around my hole. My mind is full of Bren, every sense of him, but my body remembers the past few weeks and it tenses on impulse. I need them little helpers.
He pulls away, his forehead resting against mine.
"It's OK, I'm gonna take you really slowly," he promises.
But I don't think I can stand that, I want him in me now - I want his cock to ache through me so I can forget about any other – so sex can be beautiful again.
"I have ah! I have some huff in my pocket," I say, unable to take my lips off him for even a second, "I'll be alright with that."
He cups my head with his hands, severing my lips from his skin.
"What?" He bites the word like it's dead hard.
"Some poppers, we can share if you like."
He moves back. He's staring at me like the words I'm sharing are disgusting, like my voice is trickling through him and making him sick.
"Poppers?"
"Yeah, ever had it?" I say, he looks angry.
He's proper weird 'bout drugs, like he don't make worse, or don't want to. He's looking at me like he's scared but he don't need to be – I move to pick up me hoody from the floor by the bed, grab the bottle and show it to him.
"It's good, look – it's dead 'armless."
"I can't believe you're saying this Steven."
His blue eyes turn to stone – like the fires gone now and all he is is disappointed.
"Well how else did you think I was sleeping with them men? Some came in like proper pumped up and I had to be re-"
"And that's what this is to you?"
"Don't be stupid," I say, trying to pull him to me.
He just steps away, opens the bedroom door - trying to break away from me. I feel panic proper pound in my heart. He can't walk out on me. It's all I can do to stop meself from whimpering.
"Stupid," he whispers, almost like he's talking to himself. "That's exactly what this was, this," he wags a finger between us.
He stares at me from over his shoulder for proper ages, and I can see this wars goin on inside him, he's tearin himself to pieces.
He pushes his hands up over his face, dead stressed. This could all be dead simple though, how can something we both want this much be difficult? But maybe it's cos he don't really want me. Maybe it's cos he don't really want me and I ask for too much, maybe its cos last time I called it making love.
His back's to me as he asks himself, "how can I be such an eejit?"
"For wanting me?" My voice breaks, I can't stop it.
"No," he says quick.
He looks right at me. His eyes are like dead blue, like a sunny summer sky. He looks happy, like he likes how he feels about me, like he wants to want me. But then he sighs proper deep like that's the problem.
"No Steven. Not for wanting you, I'm never gonna stop wanting you," he promises. "I'm an eejit for taking you."
But that don't make no sense right?
"I'm giving myself to you!" I tell him.
My hands sort of reach for him, I have nothing to give him. But he blinks slow like I'm all he could need.
"Bren," I purposefully give him that nickname he asked for, I hope it does as much to him as it does me. "Bren, I'm all yours."
He screws his eyes tight together, and I know he's trying to cool down, but I won't let him. I feel that power he thinks I have, so I ask him, "when you saw me in the shower what did you do?"
"Shut up, just-"
He raises his hands like he wants to fight but as soon as his gaze meets mine I see his eyes like lighten. We're this part of each other now, he can't help but relax the moment he looks at me.
"Did you get off too?" I whisper dead silent, and I wonder what I would have done if I'd caught him like he caught me.
I can see his answer in the twitch of his lips, so I continue.
"You do know you're the only person I ever think about? Just give this up – all I wanna do is share a little," I say, indicating the bottle in me hand.
"You don't need it with me," he says his voice pleadin', and I know exactly what to do now.
"Don' I? Then prove it," I challenge him.
He smiles with that devil smile and crosses the room quickly. He's marched over to me in a second, taken the bottle out of my hand and thrown it across the room. You can see his power in every inch of him.
He grabs my face, hands proper hard on my cheeks, and kisses me like he's never gonna stop - like he'd suffocate before giving me up. No-one kisses like him.
His entire body pushes me back and I can feel his mirror cold against my skin. His hand presses against my stomach, runs down, down, down, his fingers trailing into the waistband.
"Steven?" He asks, his eyes still closed, barely lifting his mouth from mine to release the word.
"Please!" I whimper.
And then he touches me properly. The touch is like an electricity bolt through me. I loose sense of everything for a moment, just the single point of pleasure. I can barely cope but it's him that's moanin' like he needs this.
"Moan for me, Steven," he whispers and then his thumb dips up over the head of my cock and like I have a choice when he does that right? My keen is so fucking loud.
He grips me hips and turns me around, slams me back into his front. And Jesus he was hard before, when we stood in that kitchen and made pancakes, but this is something else, he's fucking desperate for me. He steps back a brief distance and I follow him like we're fucking glued together. Me eyes are still closed, all I need is his touch.
"Open your fucking eyes," he commands.
I do and see us.
Fuck.
I see us.
I almost forgot about the mirror. It wouldn't matter where we were as long as I could feel and hear and smell and taste him. But we look fucking amazing together. His strong white arms wrapped over my waist so you can barely see any of my skin, I'm just a tanned outline to his masculinity, a border to him like a shock difference.
"Look good don't we?" He asks.
His head dips towards mine and his tash runs against my jaw. He trails his thumb against my lips, and I suck at it, take it between my teeth – bite it and all the time he's giving me this fucking incredible grin.
"You really don't know what you do, do you, just look at yourself, Steven – what do you see? Look at the way you're eyes are flashing, look at the way I've left your lips, so fucking open and raw, do you have any idea what they do to me?"
He wraps his fingers around my chin - tilts my head down.
"Look at yourself," he insists.
He takes the hand from my mouth and strokes it down my cock, slipping my saliva with the pre-come. He makes me look at my cock in the mirror and I've been avoiding looking there aint I? I don't wanna see the evidence of Blake. I don't wanna see disease.
He steps back, pulls away a little so you can see more of me and less of him. So he's like revealin' me.
"So fucking perfect," he whispers, his voice like pure need. "Just look. Look at how hard you are, how your reaching for my hand," he speaks like I'm some fucking masterpiece and this weird thing happens when I listen to him talk. It's like I change in front of us. I don't see meself as disease, or Blake's possession, or something wrong and sordid and disgusting. It's like I'm almost proud, like I'm sexy. "Fuck that smile, you know don't you? You know you're beautiful."
And no I don't, but I know he thinks I'm beautiful. And I feel sexy when I'm this close to him, so I answer him with, "you make me feel beautiful."
He smiles, shakes his head slightly "no, I just open those gorgeous eyes of yours, show you who you are."
His eyes like flash dark, like he's thinking of fantasies and I know whatever he's thinking of I'll do for him – I wanna be that look in his eyes.
His voice is a lion's purr as he asks, "Do you wanna touch yourself?"
It's weird innit but the moment he says those words it's all I wanna do. I wanna know what it looks like when I do what he taught me. So I nod slightly, and he fucking growls, this dead sexy noise that I don't think I've heard before like it comes from the pit of his soul.
"Do it for me," he commands.
I take hold of me cock, dead slow, just softly at the head at first remembering his exact instructions that night by the fire.
"Jesus," he curses and his voice sounds like he could get off just from watchin' me. "I don't even have to tell you to tease, cheeky fecker. Magnificent. One day soon It'll be my mouth doing that to you, nothing but my mouth for hours and I'm gonna make you scream again, one day really soon," his words are dead quiet like he's not really saying them to me. And I know what he means, he means he would now if it weren't for Blake, if it weren't for me and my stupidity and my – my disease. I feel self-disgust wash over me again, but he says more. He says, "you're mine, Steven. No one's but mine – do you get it? You won't ever belong to anyone else," and I do – I feel owned by him, and I kinda like that, I want to be nothing else but his.
I can feel his eyes burn all over me, and as my hand proper gets to work I lean my head into his shoulder, but I'm still watching. Watching him watching me. And I've never felt like this. This feels intimate, like we're making love with just our gaze. He's starin' at me like he's never gonna look away, like he'll watch me forever and when he keeps looking I become sexy.
He's proper hard against my back, I can feel his cock nestle into my arse and I don't know what I want closer, my hand or his cock so I sort of arch for both.
"You're doing so well, good boy," he whispers, "just don't stop, don't stop till you want to come for me." His voice is gruff but silky and fuck I swear it sends shivers through me just with the sound of it, and it's almost enough to send me over the edge.
My focus narrows down till I'm nothing but me cock, all I can feel is my hand working hard over it, and my balls tightening and this is the moment right now. I'm proper burning up inside, and I know I'm gonna come, I feel it in my gut like a hunger. And I let my eyelashes flutter shut as I feel my hips start a rhythm into my hand. I can feel the climax rise like a tidal wave, big and looming.
And all the time he's saying, "good boy, good fucking boy, you're so fecking beautiful right now, keep touching yourself, keep thinking of me."
And then. Right fucking then. His hand grabs my wrist, stops me, and his fingers squeezes just beneath my balls. And I've never had that before. Anything like that. It felt like I was comin' but I didn't… I'm still as hard as fucking metal.
"What the fuck? What, what did I just do?" This panics rushing through me, I don't know if it's dumb or owt but what if this – me not coming, what if it's Blake and what he gave me? Like what if I can't come anymore.
"You came," Bren breathes into my skin.
I stare down at my cock, kinda ashamed of myself, how can I still be hard? I shake me head tryna clear it of this sex-high Brady's given me.
"You orgasmed, I stopped you from ejaculating."
"Why?" I ask quick, closin' me eyes, scared of the answer.
"Why do you think?" He asks, "How do you feel right now?"
And it's not until then that I take account of me body, you know everywhere other than my hard cock anticipating release. I stop and think about everything, the tightness inside me. I look at everything. Every cell is anticipating, but like relaxed, purring with release and excitement. His hand strokes against my stomach, down to my treasure trail - he's barely touched me anywhere proper but every part of me can feel him. Every cell of me wants him, and only knows him. And it feels like I just had the climax of my life.
I nod briefly, barely any energy, "g-good," I tell him.
"Just good?" He asks this cocky tone and my words leak from me.
"Fucking amazing, just like – like the hottest I've ever been innit?"
He places his lips to my neck, trails up to my ear, "you can say that again."
He takes hold of the lobe with his teeth, and I whimper long and hard, I'm still so fucking hard.
"Let go of yourself," he whispers, his hand on my wrists trails up and his fingers wrap between me own. "It's my turn now. OK?"
He waits for me answer and I nod rapidly, I need him to touch me.
"You're so fucking beautiful Steven, and when you come, properly come, nothing on God's earth looks like that – you're indescribable, and we're gonna stand right here and do this every day, I'm gonna show you this every day till you believe me."
"Every day?" I ask foolishly hoping this might be it now.
But he just kisses my cheek, takes away the blush, and his words are a promise, "every day. For now though you're gonna cool down before I make you do that once more, and then when your strung out and can't take anymore I'm gonna fuck you and make you climax, I'm gonna make you climax so hard you pass out. Does that sound OK, or would you rather huff that shit?" He smirks his eyes flashing with teasin'.
OK so I guess I don't need anything if I have him.
"You're a proper dick, you," I laugh.
And he come's back proper quick with, "you want my dick." He's leaning in me ear to whisper it and his voice is proper low and dripping with sex, reminding me just how true his words are.
I watch my cheeks get pink, and then he's grabbin' me by the hips, turning me around, pushing me back against the cupboard.
"Fuck I love how I can still make you blush," he like growls, before grabbing my lips again.
We kiss like that, like we're trying to climb into each others mouths. My hands reach down to his balls and I squeeze and make him moan for me. His cock is closer to mine now, our naked cocks so close to touchin'. I love that feelin, like his larger harrier cock rubbin against me own, his balls dragging up against me shaft.
"Wait, we need t-" his voice is so fucking tight as he opens the cupboard behind me, retrieving a condom.
Me eyes flash, I guess it's got easier to convince him to step things up.
"Look at that smile," he says, running his thumb over me lips, "I'm not changing the game, we just need to keep safe," his eyes are serious for a moment.
And it's pretty hard to escape what he means but it's OK, it's more like he's just talking to me about why I shouldn't drink, or smoke, or fuck dry - like it's about health and nothing more.
I look at him opening the wrapper and beam as I come up with me next move.
"Let me?" I say taking the condom from him, peelin' it over my tongue.
"Jesus Steven," he looks at me like I'm his fucking dream, "this isn't about me, I don't want you doing anything you don't – fuck!" I silence his words, grippin him by the hips as I turn us around and push him back into the cupboard, changing our positions. Surprise letting me have control over him.
I bend down quick, and push my mouth over him, the condom slipping off my tongue onto him. He's looking at me like I'm blowing his mind and I know exactly what I want to do. I go to work quick, loving the way he's stretching my lips, his moans. I love every little thing about Brendan Brady.
His fingers are grippin me hair, and I can tell I'm making him proper desperate now. I know he's so close to losing control and that's exactly what I'm aiming for. Brendan Brady is good at sex, he's good at control, he's good at soft and slow, but what he's really like when he's proper enjoyin himself is this. He's wild and untamed and just pure animal and that's all I want him to be. I hear the moment his whimpers get desperate, know when he's close to exploding, and pull back, jumping away from him to the foot of the bed.
His eyes are proper blown black like he's wild and he strides toward me in three quick steps, shakin his head. God he's so fucking sexy.
"That's not how this works Steven," he whispers his voice the sexiest fucking thing I've ever heard. There's a danger running through him that wraps around my cock. "You're mine do you hear me?"
I'm quick but he's strong, he flips me over onto the bed, so my heads pressed into the pillow.
"I know what you want and I'm in control."
And I swear this was sexy, this was making me so high – I've never felt as desperate as I was two seconds ago. Two seconds ago. Two seconds ago my thoughts weren't anywhere but Brady, and me and Brady, and our history, and everything about us and how he makes me feel like no other man alive. And this is what I wanted innit?
Two seconds ago.
"Do you need to be taught another lesson?"
If I could think straight I would know that his voice is the same as it was when it was pulsing through me. And if I was here I would know that the feel of him is the same as when I almost climaxed. And if I could breathe I would know his scent is the same as it was this morning when I was desperate for his kiss. If I could breathe.
But I'm not here no more, this isn't about Bren. He's done it again, the other bloke, he's taken me away from this incredible moment with Brady, stolen our sex away from me. He's stolen me. How can I be Brady's when I've been wrecked by someone else?