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Manners And Physique

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I wanna see you sweat

Crawling on your back

And stop your misbehaving

Like a scopophiliac

Manners And Physique, Adam And The Ants

Walker climbed onto the bed, bracing his hands on the framework that protruded out from under the mattress. Brendan spread his long legs languidly and Walker knelt between them. Some side of him (the side that still cared for his wife, the side that still insisted that he was straight, damn it) wanted to top, thrust into Brendan until he was clenching around him, those feline eyes helpless and lost in lust. But he knew Brendan wouldn't stand for it. Simon Walker was just going to have to take what the Irishman offered. And like it.

"Take your shirt off," The imperative was low and slow, typical Brendan Brady. Almost disdainful- bored. If it hadn't been for the dilation of the Irishman's pupils, blown wide and black with arousal, Walker would have thought Brady was beginning to lose interest. And if it wasn't for the heady awareness of how (only a few hand spans away) Brendan's slacks were tight as his erection pushed against them, Walker would have thought he should jump off the bed and lope away.

He brought his hands to his waist, fingers fluttering anxiously like ribbons, before tugging the hem almost recklessly over his stomach, his chest. As the soft cotton covered his eyes, he felt a moment of panic, feeling the bedsprings groan beneath him as Brendan moved. But Brendan didn't touch him, didn't speak, he simply shifted as if to get comfortable.

Soon, too soon, his chest was bare as he flicked the garment away to fall heavily to the floor. Uncomfortably exposed, he shivered, Brendan's gaze scorching his skin. He glanced down at himself, at the pale skin, a slight hint of a six-pack. He didn't find it particularly appealing, wondered why Brendan even wanted-,

"And the rest."

"What?" Walker looked up wildly but Brendan was still lying there, like some Roman emperor, imperious and aloof. "Take it off. Take it all off."

So he did. He stood up, walked away from the bed to give him room. He unzipped his jeans, pushing the rough material down his thighs; he discarded his shoes, socks, leaving himself in just his underwear. Just a pair of boxers. "Shall I-?" he muttered, gesturing to his pants. He hated the thought of standing there, naked in front of the fully-clothed man, but he and to admit, the thought did make a flush rise on his face.

"Not yet. C'mere." Brendan ordered, with a supercilious jerk of his head. Walker padded over, bare feet silent on the carpet. He leant down over Brendan, and even in that position, he still felt exposed.

"Take my clothes off."

Walker blinked. Had he heard him right? "You want me to-?"

"I want you." Brenda n drawled, the admission sounding filthy on his lips. "Now do it."

Walker regarded the challenge in front of him. He knew now that this was just another game, another Brendan Brady method of control, but there was something about undressing the man, easing the tight material over the muscled skin that made his dick harden in his boxers. Ok, Simon. You heard the man.

He'd had to undress drunken friends before, so pulling the shoes off a barely animate body wasn't alien to him. But taking off a man's clothes, while he himself was poured into a pair of skimpy boxer shorts was entirely new to him. Still, he liked challenges. Brendan's shoes hit the floor with muted thuds as he pulled them off, his socks following. That was the easy part. The difficulty lay in removing the shirt, trousers and underwear. If Brendan was going to continue lying on his back, making it as hard as he could for Walker- well, he'd have to be creative. He unbuttoned the shirt easily enough, although the angle was unfamiliar. Once he spread the sides of the garment open, he momentarily forgot about his task. Seeing that tanned, muscled torso, the dark tattoos branding it possessively, the chest rising and falling with short breaths, he was overwhelmed. Completely overwhelmed. Leaning down, his lips just brushed the warm skin, the chest hair coarse on his mouth. He felt oddly archaic in this demonstrative act. It was like paying respect to a deity, or a sincere thank you.

"Don't." Brendan's voice was thick, husky and Walker stared into blown black pupils that reflected his own. They needed this.

Right. Clothes.

Walker resumed stripping Brendan. Or trying to. He managed to pull the open shirt out from under him, but the trousers posed a problem. He swiftly unzipped them, but couldn't fully take them off until Brendan would move. He sighed, and then quickly shoved his hand down the front of Brendan's slacks, palming the man's erection through his underwear. The sudden gesture had the desired effect; Brendan's hips bucked into his hand, allowing Walker to hurriedly drag the trousers and boxers down Brendan's hips. He wasn't particularly careful because he didn't really think Brendan deserved it, so Brendan hissed as the material rubbed against his crotch, on its journey to the floor.

"What next?" he panted, flicking his sweaty fringe from his eyes. Brendan braced himself against the bed, until he was in a sitting position. This offered Walker a splendid view of Brendan's cock; looking at the long, hard length (thicker than his but not as long) and knowing that it was him alone that had made the man so aroused was a powerful feeling.

Brendan gave a very deliberate look to Walker's boxer shorts, his feline eyes narrowed. Sensing what he wanted, Walker peeled off his underwear, feeling a bit better that at least Brendan had fully undressed before him.

"Come here. Walker," Brendan instructed voice low. Walker complied, clambering back onto the bed. Brendan didn't say anything; he simply opened his mouth, looking expectant. Walker felt, not for the first time, uncertain.

"Brendan, your…saliva isn't going to be enough to...lubricate..."

"Trust me, Simon."

It was the use of his first name that did it. Walker nodded, and obediently stuck his index and middle finger into Brendan's mouth. Brendan immediately began sucking at the digits, his tongue swirling over the tip of Walker's pointer finger, his eyes dark and narrowed. Walker drew in an uneasy breath; he couldn't believe that such an act could feel so sensual- but it was. He knew Brendan would be good at sucking him off, but the man had yet to do so. In their previous meetings, whenever asked, Brendan had simply refused, giving no real reason, but always happy to receive Walker's oral services. It infuriated him- did the man think he was too good for him?

When Brendan had had enough, he slid his lips off Walker's fingers, lips still moist and parted. "Touch yourself," he whispered and Walker needed no persuasion. He grasped hold of his dick firmly, running the moistened fingers along it so that he could slide his hand along the length easily. Before he could properly begin masturbating, Brendan said something strange- at first Walker thought he'd misheard him.

"Alright that's wet enough. Hump me."

"What?" Walker yelled, momentarily forgetting his desire to stare incredulously at the Irishman lounging on the bed. "What did you just say?"

"I said HUMP me, Walker. Weren't you listening? You should listen. Hump my leg. Your dick's wet because you've spent the last few seconds with your fingers down my throat. You don't have to thank me."

"I-"Walker spluttered, but before he could utter another word, Brendan held up a hand to silence him. "Hump my leg or you get nothing. I'll just walk you to the door. Now…what's it going to be?"

With a murderous glare, Walker positioned himself on his hands and knees, and ground down against Brendan's thigh. He groaned, hearing a similar noise from Brendan, and the pressure of Brendan's flesh against his was so good he did it again. After a few more experimental tries, he found that by pushing against the space where Brendan's thigh and hip met, where the skin was softest, was exquisite. Without being asked, he ran his right hand along Brendan's hard member, his dry skin causing a friction that made Brendan gasp and toss his head back.

For some reason, Walker couldn't banish from his mind a memory from his childhood of his pet dog humping the sofa because now here he was, a couple of decades later in no more dignified a position than old Patch, desperately humping another man's leg. The warmth spreading across his cheeks and neck was shame, but the heat located significantly lower was lust.

It wasn't enough to make him come though; both Brendan and Walker knew that. "You'd better get the lubricant," Brendan sighed, as if he were carrying the world's weight on his broad shoulders. Walker made to get up and get it but Brendan put a warm hand on his chest, effectively halting him. "On your hands and knees, Simon. Good boy."

Swallowing his pride, Walker dropped to his hands and knees, hating it, hating the fact that even this was arousing to him. He crawled along dog-like, until he reached the drawer where Brendan kept the lube. Without standing up (for he knew if he did so Brendan would just tell him to crawl again) he reached up, finding the little bottle.

"Carry it in your mouth, Simon." And Walker's heart beat a little faster. He obeyed, holding the bottle between his jaws, similar to the way his dog used to fetch the paper. Crawling to Brendan, his lips stretched around the length of the bottle, he wondered why he let himself be treated this way. Perhaps it was the surrendering of control that he really liked? The trust he placed, however mistakenly or not, with the Irishman? Before climbing back onto the bed, he approached the side, jerking his head up to silently indicate Brendan should take the bottle. Brendan seemed pleased by this; his eyes glittered as he pulled the item from Walker's teeth. "Good boy." He murmured.

"Lie down." Walker's head whirled at Brady's new imperative. He lay down in the way that Brendan indicated, lying on his back with his head on the foot of the bed and his ankles on either side of Brendan's hips. He wasn't naïve enough to think that this was it, that his handsome lover was finally going to blow him- no, Brendan had the lubricant and was now going to prepare him for the main event. Actually, this surprised him- although Brendan was brilliant in bed, the best Walker had ever had, he wasn't the most considerate type. Once, he'd just thrown the bottle at Walker, with a mutter of "Do it yourself and when you're done, let me know." before proceeding to touch himself. Then fact that he was preparing Walker himself was a change, but a good one. Walker laid back, toes curling and eyes fixed on the ceiling. It almost made him want to laugh, lying back and thinking of England, staring fixatedly up at the blank whiteness, with the occasional inky blur of Brendan's head, as the Irishman prodded inside him with the precision of a surgeon. He could tell Brendan was deliberately trying not to stimulate Walker's prostate,; at one moment where he accidentally came into contact with the mass of nerves, causing his lover to wriggle against the bedclothes with a whine, he held Walker down with his other hand, to stop his hips from bucking, his back from arching. It was maddening, feeling the bittersweet intrusion of Brendan's fingers in him, moving but not where he wanted to, not there.

Eventually, Brendan withdrew his digits, leaning back against the headboard. Staring dreamily at the ceiling, Walker didn't hear him at first.

"-on it"


"Sit on it."

It was getting easier to immediately obey Brendan. Walker clumsily climbed over to Brendan, who was now laying back, legs wide and cock erect. Taking a deep breath, Walker waited a second, and then eased himself onto Brendan's hard shaft. Wider than Brendan's blunt fingers, there was a nagging pain as his body tried to accommodate the intrusion. Knowing that tensing or moving too quickly would only make it hurt more, Walker exhaled, his hands pressed hard on Brendan's chest to keep him from taking too much of the length in too quickly. When he felt a bit more relaxed, he moved his hands to grip the headboard, shivering with awareness as Brendan's warm hands settled themselves on his hips. He gave Brendan a shaky smile, revelling in the feel of Brendan's secure grip on his waist, and the warmth of the man's cock inside him. He gave an experimental shift, hearing Brendan gasp. Clutching the headboard firmly, Walker brought himself up slowly, so that Brendan's cock gradually left him and then brought himself down again. He set a rhythm, rocking on Brendan's dick as he grabbed at the metal framework of the bed, riding Brendan's cock so that it pounded at his prostate. The position wasn't the most comfortable; the muscles in his thighs screamed in protest as he ground his arse on the man's dick. Brendan, moaning and arching up into Walker, wrapped his hand around Walker's cock, only needing to give the shaft a few strokes and pulls before Walker was coming, his head thrown back and an expression of ecstasy on his face. His cry as he came sounded pained but relieved -the build-up to this, the moment of release had been…tremendous. Brendan thrust up into the man's arse, knowing he had to do this quickly as Walker came down from his orgasm, or it might be uncomfortable for the other man. He could feel himself tipping over the edge, like falling, as his orgasm overwhelmed him making him give a feral possessive shout.

As he slumped back on the bed, drained but with a roaring in his ears and endorphins racing through his body, his softening dick slipped out of Walker, prompting Walker to shakily climb off him, collapsing onto the bed beside Brendan. There wasn't much room with Brendan's still spread-legs, so Walker curled up against t his lover, surprised that Brendan let him do it.

For about a minute, the air was warm with the panting of the two men, as they struggled to get their breathing back to normal. Eventually, Walker felt strong enough to speak. "That was…" He started to laugh. Perhaps it was the euphoria of his orgasm that made him see the funny side; he laughed until his eyes watered and his shoulders shook.

"Yeah," Brendan said quietly, his lips twisting into an amused smile. "It was, wasn't it? Shall we…do this again sometime?"

"You know we will."

Author's Notes: So, what's the general consensus no that? Two chapters, a completed fic of PWP, starring our two jailbird boys, getting it on.