Brendan closes the door, wants to be alone for this. This isn't a conversation that anyone should be hearing, least of all Steven. He strongly hopes that he's been distracted by Douglas or Ethan, doesn't want him to come back here and find Brendan towering over Walker's bloodied form, if that's what it takes.
"I see you've already made yourself comfortable." Brendan nods to his bed, the sheets drawn back from where they'd been.
"Looks uncharacteristically tidy for you. Like no one's slept in it for days."
Brendan shrugs, faking nonchalance. "You know me, Simon. I like things ordered."
Walker sits back on the bed, lounges against the wall, hands behind his head, exposing his midriff.
"I had an interesting visit from young Ste yesterday."
"Oh yeah?" Brendan's mind is racing, trying to desperately search for any opportunity that Walker would have had to spot him outside the door. His stomach sinks, wonders whether Walker's known this whole time about him and Steven, and he's been bluffing, has gained the upper hand like he's managed to do so many times in the past.
"Came to me dressed in his tracksuit. Looked adorable really. Cute as a button."
Of all the ways Brendan would describe Steven, cute as a button isn't what he'd go for.
"Drop the act and stop pretending that you don't find him fuckable, Brady."
Brendan tenses, doesn't know if he's about to fall into a very large trap, is wary of getting Steven into any danger here too.
"He's...good looking, I suppose."
Golden skin. Eyelashes that it should be impossible for a grown man to possess. A pliable body that is sturdier than he'd anticipated. A laugh which you can hear all the way down the corridor.
Walker laughs at the absurdity of it, because it is absurd that Steven could ever just be good looking.
"You ever been tempted to sample him?" He asks casually.
"Been there, done that." He leaves the rest unsaid, but the subtext is clear. With Vincent.
"Don't tell me you've turned into some kind of nun? That's not your style."
Brendan sits on Steven's bed, tries to act like it's the first time, that he hasn't made it his permanent home.
"That's all behind me. I'm just serving my sentence. I don't need anymore distractions."
He wishes he could live his life by this, that he could truly just keep his head down, stop seeking out these boys, stop looking for these situations that'll only turn messy, if he doesn't screw them up first. After Macca he'd decided not to play that game anymore, that a string of meaningless fucks was preferable, easier. Then a few months into his sentence a boy had arrived, all mop of messy blonde hair and high delicate cheekbones, a tentative smile, and he'd decided that one more couldn't possibly hurt.
After Vincent he hadn't thought that it could get much worse, but he feels so protective of Steven that he's starting to wonder if there's anything he wouldn't do to keep him safe.
"Has Ste told you about our little chat?"
"No."
"Do you want me to tell you?" Walker grins at him, and for one moment Brendan thinks he's truly enjoying this, that he knows it's a form of torture.
He knows Steven would be angry if he found out about this, if he knew that Brendan was curious, that he wants to know exactly what they talked about in that room. He can just imagine the boy giving him a lecture about the importance of trust, and he does trust him, trusts him more than he does most people, but it's still not enough.
"I'm listening, Simon."
Walker settles onto the bed even more, looks like he's getting ready to tell a story round a campfire, marshmallows roasting.
"I read him the terms of the contract. Let him know what he was getting himself into."
"If he had agreed, which he didn't," Brendan reminds him.
"Wow, stab the knife into me that much further why don't you?" Walker grins at him, makes it sound like it's an actual challenge.
"Am I wrong?"
"No," Walker concedes. "But the boy's reaction was...interesting."
Brendan stiffens, wishes now more than ever that he'd insisted on Steven staying in the dining room where he could see them, would have taken the boy's embarrassment at talking about Walker's little arrangement over not knowing what Steven really looked like, if a part of him had wanted it.
He waits to hear more, knows that he doesn't have to press it, that Walker's dying to continue here. Steven appears to be Simon's favourite subject, loves the sound of his name rolling off his tongue.
"He told me what he liked."
Brendan knows they're not talking hobbies and interests here, knows what Steven likes himself, but he wants to hear it from Walker.
"What did he say?"
"Standard stuff, what you'd expect. Nothing earth shattering. Blowjobs. Rimming. Fingering."
Brendan rubs his temple with a finger, feels a headache coming on.
"He told you that?"
He imagines Steven's pretty little mouth forming the words, telling Walker everything he desires.
"Yes. Not quite as innocent as he appears."
It feels like a betrayal, feels like he's just found Steven in Simon's bed, same feelings of fury and jealousy gnawing away at him, wants to grab them both and separate them even though they're not even in the same room. Steven had seemed hesitant, had blushed when Brendan had asked him questions at first, had seemed like the entire experience was completely new to him. He can't comprehend how he could go from that to this, to revealing details about his sex life, their sex life, to someone who wants him as ardently as Walker does.
"Never tried it with more than one person though apparently."
Brendan can feel Walker's eyes burning into him, knows what's running through his head right now, wishes he could shut it off, to stop the thoughts from coming through. It belongs to a world that Brendan no longer feels like he inhabits, doesn't want any part in. He's tried it a few times, Simon and one of the boys he'd choose, seemed like a good idea at first, a way to benefit all of them before he'd realised that there was no joy in it, not when Simon would disregard the lads like they were vermin, when it was about his own needs rather than their own.
Brendan couldn't deny his own blighted past, couldn't pretend that he'd treated Macca or Vincent and everyone who'd come before and after with respect, but he'd at least tried to make sure that they had a good time, that it was about what they wanted rather than purely being an attempt for him to get a good fuck out of it.
"Steven's not like that," Brendan says defensively, knows he shouldn't, but he can't stand here and let Simon say these things, presume that he knows Steven when he hasn't even begun to understand the kind of man he is, the things he can do.
Brendan never wants him to know that side, feels like it's something that only he and Steven share, something that not even the people who the boy calls his friends in here can touch.
"How do you know? Close, are you?" Walker raises his eyebrows, is never not implying something about Brendan and these boys, seems to think that anyone young and impressionable within a mile radius will attract Brendan's attention, like he's drawn to them like they're magnets.
He's not far wrong, they're Brendan's own version of forbidden fruit, except nothing is forbidden to him. He'll do whatever he can to make them his, except with Steven no traps or games were necessary. The boy seemed to land in his lap, not literally unfortunately, not for a little while, but it couldn't have been any more convenient, sharing a cell with someone who tempts him with every movement, every word, thinks that all the boy has to do is breathe and Brendan will still think he's trying to provoke.
He hadn't bargained on Steven wanting him as fervently as Brendan wants him, and it's an adjustment. He doesn't understand why.
"He sleeps in the bed next to me, Simon. He gets dressed in the same room as me. He pisses in a bucket right in front of me. I guess you could say we're close, yeah." He says it dryly, is pleased with the level of detachment in his voice, thinks he must be the world's best actor. He sounds for all intents and purposes like Steven is merely there, that he's an unavoidable presence in his life but nothing more, no suggestion of how he seems to be Brendan's life now, occupies his thoughts far more than he would like, like he's been fine tuned into Brendan's brain.
"Seeing as how you two do everything together...does he ever mention me?"
Brendan snorts loudly, stares at Walker like he's waiting for the punch line. Walker seems to understand the ridiculous nature of his own statement, the corners of his lips twitching, but he's not retracting his question, and Brendan senses that behind the teasing he truly needs to know.
"What is this, a playground? Do you want me to pass him a note from you as well? Dear Steven, meet me behind the bike sheds, love from Simon. Kiss fucking kiss."
"Please, give me some credit. My letter would be far more explicit than that."
Brendan's afraid that if he rolls his eyes any further they're going to escape from their sockets.
"No, he doesn't talk about you." Except when he's wondering how to let you down gently.
"Shame. Still, I suppose Ste can be shy."
Brendan has to turn around to hide the look on his face, thinks that no one's realised that Steven's not shy quite like he has.
He can't shake the notion that Walker's being too calm about this though, that he should be climbing the walls in frustration, questioning Steven over exactly why he's saying no, not standing here and discussing him like this is what they do, like in the past he hasn't moved heaven and hell to get what he wants.
It unnerves him, makes him think that there's something bigger brewing under the surface, that this is just phase one of the plan, and the words give up don't form part of Walker's vocabulary.
At first he thinks he imagines the hot air that's suddenly on his neck, imagines he's been transported to a different time, a time when it was just him and Steven in here, and the boy had marked a trail of kisses down Brendan's throat and jaw.
He turns sharply when the air becomes something more solid, when he feels the brush of lips against him, a hint of prickly stubble. Walker stares at him sheepishly, licks his lips in a slow and deliberate way, would look ridiculous if he wasn't so experienced at it, does it to capture people in, is a master at seduction and he knows it.
"What are you doing?" Brendan asks pointlessly, knows what this is, that Walker's been hinting at it for days, and he'd have to be blind to have missed the signs.
"Do you know how long it's been for me, Brendan?"
"Enlighten me."
"Two days. Two days without sex."
"I don't know how you're still functioning," Brendan drawls, thinks stabbing himself in the eye might be more relaxing than this. "What happened to the officers at your disposal?"
"Apparently a husband's getting suspicious about the bite marks." Walker grins at him, pleased as fucking punch. "Besides..." He moves towards Brendan, stares at his mouth the whole way there like a moth to a flame. "I don't feel like a woman right now."
Brendan places a hand on Walker's chest to still him. "Maybe I don't feel like anything right now."
Walker laughs. "You? You always feel like something. It's like you were designed to constantly be fucking."
Brendan creates more distance between them, looks out of the screen window, doesn't want Steven returning to find them like this.
"I've changed my ways." He attempts the closest thing to an angelic expression that's within his capacity.
"You'll never change."
Walker says it lightly but it sinks in, feels like it's quicksand and Brendan's drowning in it. It's everything he's trying to fight against, and it has the ability to wound him more than anyone could know.
"I have," he stresses more firmly than is required. "Looks like you'll have to go elsewhere."
Walker's not wrong, he always feels like something, but he feels a strange loyalty to Steven, feels like even having this conversation is doing him a disservice. He can't shake the knowledge that Steven talked about sex with Walker, thinks there must be some truth in Walker's words, and the thought that the boy could have got some form of pleasure out of it twists his stomach. But he's trying to trust another man for the first time in his life, and it doesn't come easily.
"Enough with this. I put it down to some kind of early mid life crisis at first, but you seem insistent on keeping it up. You were fine fucking me a few weeks ago. What's changed?"
"Maybe I've broadened my horizons." He puts a new stick of gum in his mouth, permanently keeps a pack in his back pocket, finds it's a lifesaver in drowning out conversations and faking nonchalance. He's been known for his talent of rimming while still having a piece in the corner of his mouth, his form of a party trick.
Walker cocks his head to the side, stares at him curiously. He doesn't get offended. He gets nosey, likes to poke at a mystery with a large prying stick.
"To what?"
Brendan sighs, feels like there must be a vein on his forehead about a mile long. "It's an expression."
"People tend to use expressions for a reason. If you want me to put it in layman's terms, I have an itch I can't scratch, and I'd like you to be the one to relieve me."
"Go and rub yourself against a tree or something, Simon. I can't help you." He's wondering if he's going to have to spell it out with letters. Perhaps the staff have some alphabetti spaghetti hoops that he can use for the task.
"I give you a week, tops. There's no way you can go without for that long."
Brendan points at the door then back at Walker, wants to hammer the point home.
"Well, you know where to find me," Walker continues wryly. "Or do you want me to write down my address?"
"I think I'll manage."
He's increasingly aware of the time, that Steven might not be away for much longer.
Walker heads to the door, and Brendan thinks he's at least kept this thing under control, that he can keep it under wraps and no one else will ever have to know.
He takes a sharp intake of breath when Walker pauses by the door, wonders if he's been waiting this entire time to say what he's about to.
"As you're kicking me out, you could at least give me a kiss." There it is. The catch.
"How does that work?" Brendan laughs in exasperation, can't even begin to understand Simon's strange logic which he thinks results in Brendan's lips on his. He's been trying to defy this thing from happening ever since he stepped into the room, and yet all Simon seems to hear is keep trying.
"Come on, Brendan." He lays a hand on Brendan's shoulder and it seems to land heavily, its touch warm. "You're denying a dehydrated man water here."
So fucking dramatic.
"I'm not going to kiss you." He has never just kissed Walker, never will be able to. It always leads to more, branches off into this thing that neither of them can control, a constant struggle for dominance. He's got something else that's more important than that now, that's worth more.
"I won't even open my mouth, I promise."
Brendan stares him down, does so until Walker breaks into a giggle, knows that's an outright lie. He can't not open his mouth, has a tongue that's like a hoover.
Brendan nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of the door opening, was on his guard the whole time they were talking, had always kept an eye on the screen window, but Walker managed to distract him like he always does, and now he springs apart from him, registers Steven's surprised expression.
"Sorry," the boy mumbles, looks between them like he's interrupted something, and Brendan desperately wants to tell him that it's nothing, but his words seem stuck in his throat.
"Hello, sweetheart." Walker smiles at Steven, and Brendan can see how fucking charming it is, how it's a smile that's designed to entice, especially when it's coupled with his terms of endearment and that low, suggestive tone.
Brendan watches Steven carefully, wants to see every flicker of emotion that's crossing his face, to see if he's being reeled in by this. He's briefly satisfied when Steven merely continues to look taken aback, thinks that this is preferable to being in awe of Simon like so many others have previously been.
"I can leave if you want..." It looks like it's the last thing he wants to do.
"No, Simon was leaving."
Simon looks like this is news to him, his eyes sparkling when he faces Brendan, looks like he's caught the two of them in a mouse trap.
Brendan feels poised for something, if not a fight then a confrontation, anything. He can feel it in the air. It's alive with tension, and he's constantly aware that they both want the same thing, that everything is focused on the boy in front of them, and knowing Steven he thinks that he's an annoyance, is in the way, doesn't realise that he's the single most desirable person in this place.
He's relieved when Walker's shoulders dip, seems to release some of the energy he was holding onto. Brendan's hand still feels sore, and even with Steven's kisses it's not in any state to have contact with Simon's body.
"I'll see you later, Brendan." He passes by Steven, doesn't lay a finger on him but he looks like he's trying to contain himself, that he's having to resist reaching out and brushing a hand against the softness of his cheek. "See you soon, darling."
Steven nods, his expression changing when Walker's closed the door behind him. He deflates, shakes his head at Brendan.
"I've told him a million times to stop calling me that."
"He says that to all the boys." Brendan feels like he can't control his tone, sounds vicious to his ears, like he wants to wound Steven, see if it hurts him to know that with Simon he's one of many.
If Steven notices it then it doesn't show. He moves towards Brendan, takes his face in his hands and kisses him before he can even register what's happening, feels like it's at the speed of lightning. He resists for less than a second before his hands find their way around Steven's waist, cups his arse through the material of his trousers, could have him right here and now he wants him that much.
He tries to erase Walker's words through his movements, wonders if he kisses Steven hard and long enough then what happened in here will be replaced by them, by the sounds and sights of Steven inside him instead, Steven demanding more from him, begging so beautifully like he's prone to do, coming like he's been dying for a release his whole life.
He walks back until he can feel the bed against his legs, and sits down, Steven immediately climbing into his lap, rub of their groins together. He imagines slow hand jobs, first Steven and then him, pictures his hand around the boy's rock hard dick, watching his eyes droop and his expression grow dazed. There's a rush to fuck him, to have the closest skin to skin contact that he can have, but Brendan knows there's time, wants to forsake it for now with the languid, tactile exploration of each other instead.
He hadn't bargained on the boy being so damn talkative though, knows that Steven rarely seems to shut up, but he's alive with giddiness now, tells him about his visit with Amy, how they'd actually managed to make it through the entire thing this time, that she hadn't looked at him like she wanted to set fire to his rotting carcass.
"That's great, Steven." Brendan mutters it halfheartedly. It's not that he doesn't mean it, he does, but it's doing nothing to numb the nagging voice in his head that says that he can't be sure if Steven's entirely his, not after what Walker told him.
"I know she hasn't properly forgiven me yet, but it's a start, isn't it?"
Brendan kisses his neck, the boy wriggling against the feel of his moustache, can't stop mentioning how "Amy held my hand" and "she smiled at me, she actually smiled at me again, Bren!"
He seems to be under the impression that Brendan doesn't know a single thing, and that's good, it means he didn't register him watching during the whole visit, hadn't seen him as Amy had smoothed her thumbs over Steven's hands, looked like a fucking couple for all the world to see. His brain feels like it's going to explode from all the shit he's worrying about.
Brendan hitches Steven's trousers up, feels the hair of his legs in his palm and kneads it, can drown out the sound of Steven's words when he's like this, concentrating solely on his body.
The boy changes pace though, and repeats himself several times when Brendan doesn't answer him.
"Brendan? What happened today? With you and your Cheryl?"
Brendan's frustrated as hell that his tactics haven't worked, wonders if he should forgo subtly and flip Steven onto his back instead, thrust his dick inside him and give the boy something to really shout about.
Steven's looking annoyed at him now though. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yes." He gives up, knows that it's futile, and allows Steven to continue to sit on his lap instead, idly stroking the hair at the back of Brendan's neck.
"I was worried about you. You just started screaming at her, and then knocked the chair over." Steven says it quietly, and the awful thought comes to Brendan that the boy's still scared of him, of the way he'll react.
"Just had an argument." He hopes that Steven doesn't see straight through him, realise that he and Cheryl have never had arguments that involve that, that violence and his sister have never existed side by side. Before he was in prison he'd tried everything to separate those worlds, had barely raised his voice in front of her.
"About your dad?"
It feels like a weapon that Steven can use against him now, and it's too much, still too raw. Brendan can't imagine a time when it won't be, thinks that the expression it'll get easier is a crock of shit, that some horrors can't ever be anything other than painful.
"No." But it's always, always about their dad, has been since they were kids. Cheryl could never understand why Brendan became so sullen around him as a teenager, would accuse him of not making enough of an effort, that "daddy is trying, so why can't you?"
Brendan used to wonder if Seamus had planted some kind of chip in Cheryl's brain, couldn't understand how she couldn't see it, how she missed a lifetime of abuse like they hadn't lived under the same roof, that when Cheryl was safely asleep in her bed Brendan was being raped in his.
"You can tell me."
"Jesus, kid." He rises from the bed, realises his mistake a second later, corrects himself. "I mean - Steven." It's awkward, and he doesn't wish to remind Steven of his step dad, but he'd half hoped that everything to do with Seamus would go away when he spoke the words out loud, hadn't imagined that Steven would care enough to keep on bringing him up, a constant reminder of the past.
"I don't need to be counseled by some twenty three year old."
"Why do you do that? Always bring up my age, like just because I'm younger than you my opinion doesn't count as much?"
"I'm not saying -" Except he is. "It's just been a bad day, alright?"
"You seemed happy enough earlier."
How can he explain that he's always happy, as happy as he can ever be, when he's in bed with Steven? That other things pale into significance, that it's everything else that's so difficult.
"Did Simon say something?"
"Oh, it's Simon now, is it?" Brendan mocks, doesn't like the sound of his name on Steven's lips.
"Don't start all that jealousy crap. I'm not the one who was standing all close to him before."
Brendan chuffs a laugh, wrings his hands together furiously, desires nothing more than to be left alone in a room with a punchbag.
"Me and..." He doesn't finish the sentence, wants to give the impression that it's too fucking nonsensical to complete.
"Yes! It looked like I was interrupting something."
Brendan doesn't know whether to be flattered or pissed off at Steven's questioning, sounds like the closest thing to possession that he's heard from the boy. It's thrilling, the idea that he means that much to him, but there's an undercurrent of anger there, and he doesn't want Steven to dig into his past, to discover more about Vincent and Macca, to see what a screw up Brendan is, that he drove a young man right into the arms of a murderer.
He can't look away from the boy's gaze though, from his bright eyes which still blaze with so much hope. Hope for him.
"You weren't. I was glad when you came to be honest. Not for the first time." He lowers his voice, attempts a smile despite his churning insides.
Steven's expression softens, a grin peppering his lips. "So you two haven't..." His tone is less serious now, like he believes he's being ridiculous, that with a few simple words Brendan's soothed his fears.
Brendan can't bear to break that.
"Nothing's ever happened." His wrinkles his nose in distaste, acts like the idea mildly offends him.
"Good." The boy smiles openly then, appeased by such a simple lie.
"So..." Brendan brushes a hand through Steven's hair, keeps his voice neutral. "You going to tell me what was in that contract?"
He feels the boy tense, can't quite look him in the eye the same way as before. "Why do you want to know about that?" It's defensive.
"I want to know just how sleazy our dear friend Simon really is."
For a moment he thinks Steven's going to tell him, that he'll admit to being interested in the terms, that they'll both attempt to laugh it off as getting caught in the moment, and Brendan will silence his doubts the only way he knows how.
"I didn't really look at the contract. I just said I didn't want to see it."
Brendan thinks of all the thoughts that must be running through Steven's head, to look him in the eye, to not blush or colour in any way. To convince them both that he's telling the truth. The boy's forgetting who he's dealing with.
"Anyway, lets not talk about that. He's gone now."
What Steven doesn't understand is that no one's ever truly gone in this place. They're always round the corner, constantly waiting to fuck you up.
He's pulling Brendan back towards the bed, trying to distract him now. Brendan lets himself be moved, wonders who really has the power here, and it's a terrifying thought that it might not be him.
He feels the need to rectify that immediately, puts Steven onto his back and reaches for his buckle, bats the boy's hand away when he tries to touch him. He's the one setting the rules here, needs to somehow feel like he has control of this thing again, otherwise it'll all tumble from his grasp.
He wrestles Steven out of his underwear, still denying him the touch that he seems to so desperately want, looks like he's having to lean on his hands to stop himself from reaching out.
The pounding in Brendan's head is lessening, and all that's left is Steven. He wants the boy's hands on him, but it'll have to wait, feels like this is more important, reasserting his dominance if he has any left at all. He felt more in charge when he was with Walker, realises now that it has nothing to do with someone's size or stature, that it's about what they take from you. Steven seems to take everything, has the ability to make Brendan feel like he's God-like one minute, not even worth breathing the next.
Brendan wants to see all of him, gets the boy's t-shirt off and discards it on the floor, eyes trailing down over the hair on his stomach, the tattoo on his hip which still has the imprints of his teeth against it, marks which bind them.
Steven's cock is nestled in a bed of hair, and Brendan runs his fingers over it, the coarseness creating a slight scratching sensation against his raw, red knuckles. Steven stares down at his hand, asks "does it still hurt?", but Brendan quietens him with a rough kiss on the lips. There's no space for gentleness here, not today.
He gives Steven's cock a few slow pumps to make it hard, eases a finger over his foreskin and against one of the prominent veins, could dip his head right now and swipe his lips over it, but he resists.
"Touch yourself for me."
Steven stares up at him, eyelashes batting. They've never done that before, never laid back and watched while the other jerks themselves off, still lines that they've yet to cross.
They're going to cross them now.
The boy looks faintly embarrassed as he begins, his hand holding his dick, fingers running up the shaft. He's hyperaware of Brendan's eyes on him the whole time, nibbles at his lips like he tends to do when he's nervous, and his unoccupied hand is shaking the tiniest amount.
Brendan lies back on the opposite end of the bed, their feet touching. He keeps his breathing measured, can feel his heartbeat going a mile a minute already, and Steven's only just begun. But God he's perfect like this, and all his, has never spent this much time just watching as he builds it up, works himself into coming.
"I feel silly," Steven says, although he never had any trouble before, never looked this bashful when he was masturbating right before they fucked. Brendan gets it though, knows that there's more pressure now, that he can see Brendan's dick bunched up in his jeans, knows that he's depending on Steven to get him off here too.
"You don't look silly," he replies, and it's the understatement of the century. He looks amazing, but he's meant to be teaching the boy a lesson here, although what that is he's not so sure about, not anymore.
"Okay," Steven says shyly, continues all the same despite his anxiety, and that's the great thing about him. He never stops trying.
He can tell that Steven's too aware of all the things around them at first - Brendan's gaze, the screen window, the creakiness of the bed, the fact that there are officers patrolling just outside. The boy's movements on his dick are constant but methodical, look like they're planned rather than frenzied, marked by lust.
Brendan decides that some further encouragement is needed, and he releases his own cock from its confines, spreads his legs obscenely and starts stroking himself, unashamed and trying to set an example. He's nothing if not a keen teacher.
Steven's legs visibly relax and he closes his eyes, his movements on his cock becoming more clumsy, uncoordinated. He starts moaning and it shoots straight to Brendan's dick, makes him want to come but he's still not there yet, but God he wishes he was. Steven's abandonment is startling, the way he's stroking his cock rapidly, has an almost aggressive edge to it.
If Brendan had blinked he would have missed it, but he catches the way that Steven's finger edges closer to his hole before wrapping around his cock again. Brendan smirks, thinks that with the way Steven's feeling now, it would take less than five seconds to get inside him.
"I saw that," he says triumphantly.
"What?" Steven opens his eyes, looks drunk on sex.
"You don't have to stop, you know. If you want to finger yourself."
Steven squirms. "I don't..." It comes out sounding particularly weak.
"Maybe I'd like to see you do that," Brendan challenges, gives the boy an excuse to do exactly what he wants.
Steven chews on his lip, extends his hand lower and Brendan watches the whole way, couldn't take his damn eyes off him even if wanted to. His hold on his cock feels painfully tight.
Steven spreads his legs so that they match Brendan's, and he's got the perfect access to the boy's entrance now, can see how tight it looks, can imagine the stretch of Steven's fingers opening himself up, feeling the warmth and softness that's deep inside.
Steven's looking at him, and some of that earlier embarrassment's faded, replaced by this certainty that he can do this, that Brendan wants him to.
The first finger goes in, and it's as though Steven's insides clamp against it. The boy winces, breathes through it until he moves it deeper within the muscle, until the tightness is transforming into something different.
Brendan watches as his own chest rises, keeps on thinking that he's never witnessed a sight like this, but then Steven surprises him at each turn, keeps on introducing him to something even more magnificent and spine tingling that makes his toes curl. He can't think about making his control known to Steven now, and if the boy were to touch him right this second he wouldn't be able to stop him. All those thoughts have drifted out of his mind, and he's starting to wonder how he ever could have denied him. He doesn't want to punish Steven.
Brendan moves forward in the bed to raise Steven's legs higher so he can see everything. He doesn't even hesitate in what he's doing, merely continues to fuck himself on a single finger, the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration.
Brendan lays back again, relishes the new position he's got, fists his rapidly hardening cock, is sure that he's going to spill from this alone before he's even managed to put a condom on. He breathes "Jesus" when Steven slowly adds a second finger, wants to lean forward and lick every damp particle of sweat off the boy's golden and heaving chest.
"How does it feel?" He asks, feels like he needs to hear the answer or he'll go crazy.
"Good," Steven sighs, moves his fingers at a faster pace, arches his stomach off the bed. It reminds Brendan of when he's sucking the boy off, the way that Steven can barely lie still on the bed, twitches and fidgets like he's hot and agitated, like his skin is humming.
"As good as when I do it to you?"
Steven smiles, and Brendan thinks he's about to call him a pervert again, tell him to knock it off.
"Not as good, no."
Brendan can't resist probing further. "Oh yeah? Why not?"
Steven adds a third finger, his head lolling back on the pillow from the stretch.
"I don't know, do I? Just...you know how to touch me."
Brendan can't remember ever feeling as high as this. He can't hold off any longer.
"You won't mind me taking over then, will you?" He teases, crawls towards Steven and kisses him, nuzzles his nose against his in a way that's uncharacteristically tender of him, but it feels right.
"I suppose not, no." Steven's mouth splits so widely that Brendan fears for his jaw.
He doesn't stop until he's between his legs, lays light kisses against his dick, a stray finger rubbing against Steven's hole to ensure that it stays open. He can't resist cupping the boy's face and kissing him again, is constantly drawn back towards his mouth like it's a beacon. He uses his free hand and inserts a finger into Steven while the kiss deepens, can feel the heat of the boy's tongue, the moan that's willing to escape. He's going to bury himself in Steven until he's a sweating, incomprehensible mess.
"This is cosy." Walker leans against the door, looks at Brendan likes he's just stolen something that's his.