Title: My Addiction
Author: Shanyn
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Incest. Talk of abuse/domestic violence. A little bit of a vampirism fetish. Definitely some S&M or some kind of control issues in here.
Disclaimers: Standard stuff- not making any claims about their true sexuality, none of this ever happened- I have no money, please don't sue...


Your face betrays no surprise when I show up at your door unannounced. My arms are wrapped around my body, hugging myself for warmth, my teeth chattering and my limbs quivering like a heroin addict going through withdrawal. In a way, I suppose I am. You are my addiction, Edge, and it's been so long.

Your eyes sweep down my body, taking in my rain-soaked form and you say nothing as you step aside, silently granting me entrance to your room. Water puddles at my feet as we stare silently into each other's eyes. I have spent the better part of the night wandering the streets of this rainy city looking for you, unable to stand the thought of you being so close without being able to touch you.

You don't gloat at my return; I'll give you that. Of course, you wouldn't. Gloating is only for those who were unsure of an outcome, and you knew I'd be back. Never doubted it, never spent a single sleepless night brooding over it. I always come back. Like a faithful, bootlicking mutt returning to be kicked once again.

This time was supposed to be different, though. I ended our relationship as publicly and violently as I knew how. Edge and Christian were over, and I wanted everybody to know it. Wanted you to know it. But you just smiled and played along. You watched me walk away, watched me with that impossibly arrogant, smug smile of self-satisfaction. 'You'll be back' your eyes told me. You were right. You're always right. I held out for two weeks before I slunk meekly back into your arms, begging you not to tell anyone we were together again because it would have been too humiliating if people found out that once again I was too weak to stay away from you.

I tried to make it work, I really did. I tried to take all the verbal abuse, all the beatings in stride. I wanted so badly to leave, but just your touch in the ring was enough to drive me crazy, to keep me coming back to your bed. I had hoped that when our feud ended, I could get away from you for good- no more need to be near each other onscreen or in the ring. But even with our careers going in different directions, there I was, what- only three weeks after that, on my back in your bed with you hovering over me, looking down on me with that smug, serene smile.

Then there was this last time. You beat me so bad that I had to skip two house shows. I tried to cover for you, saying I had suffered injuries in the ring, but nobody believed me. But that's okay, because nobody was mad at you anyway; they were all too busy laughing at me. I'm a joke to them. They make bets on when I'll leave you, how long I'll stay gone, when I'll come crawling back to you on my knees. They think it's funny.

Lance was the only one who would take me seriously. Of course, he takes everything seriously. But he was the only one who supported me, the only one who was there for me. He never complained when I woke him up in the middle of the night, needing a room to stay in because you were angry about some thing or another and I was too scared to stay with you. He held me, and rocked me to sleep, whispering to me that I deserved to be treated better... poor Lance. He was the one who deserved to be treated better. He loved me, god only knows why- I don't deserve his kind of devotion- but I couldn't love him back, all I could do was use him.

Oh, I tried with Lance, but every night with him it was your face I imagined, your touch I needed, your taste I craved. And so I would make up little excuses to slip away from him at the arena and sneak away to find you and we would have steamy, hot quickies anywhere we could find a place to be alone for a few minutes- the showers, a broom closet, your rental car. I tried to be discreet, I didn't want to hurt Lance, but I just couldn't stay away from you and I know it killed him when he found out. By the way, I never did thank you properly for bragging to Lance about our affair. Asshole. It doesn't matter anyway; he stuck with me, stood patiently by my side. I felt obligated to try and make it work for his sake, so I begged Lance to move with me to Raw. I couldn't get any further away from you than that, I reasoned. It had to work this time, right?

But here I am, just over a month later, standing in a pool of water in your hotel room, silently begging you to take me back yet again. And you just look at me with those cool, calm eyes, as if you expected nothing less than for me to show up at your door at two in the morning in the middle of a rainstorm.

You push me against the wall, briefly leaning down to land a soft kiss before you turn and head toward your bathroom. You have yet to speak, but you glance at me over your shoulder as I start to follow you and the commanding look in your eyes speaks in volumes- 'STAY'. I slump obediently back against the wall and wait for your return.

You have a towel draped over your shoulder when you come back, and I hungrily watch your graceful strides as you come to a stop before me and drop the towel lightly to the floor before pulling me into deep kiss. You slowly peel away my sopping clothes, leaving them in a wet pile by your door. I stand motionless and silent as you pick up the towel and begin gently drying my soaking skin, planting light kisses along my body as you go. Okay- who are you, and what have you done with my brother?

This gentle behavior is so unlike you that I can only stand in mute shock and watch as you slip to your knees in front of me, kissing my hip tenderly and begin toweling off my legs. You lift your eyes slowly to meet mine and I stare, entranced by the passion filling your dark green orbs as you leisurely take my cock bit by bit into your soft mouth. I groan and close my eyes, tossing my head back in pleasure. I don't dare push myself into your face, you hate having your pace rushed and I don't want to provoke your anger, so I clench my hands helplessly at my sides and try to hold as still as I can while your heavenly mouth works up and down my cock. Oh god Edge, you're incredible... I've missed you so bad.

Suddenly the delicious heat of your mouth disappears; my eyes fly open in dismay, and then blink in surprise as a towel unexpectedly flies into my face.

"Get out of the rest of those clothes and dry yourself off," you grunt, getting to your feet and heading over to your bed with a yawn. I blink again, confused. Ahh, I see. You were giving me just enough to remind me of what I've been missing, of why I came back. As if I could ever forget. My cock twitches and hardens even more at the memories of the things we've shared...

And the graceful way you stalk to the head of your bed and casually begin to slide your sweats down those impossibly long legs does nothing to quell this raging hard-on you've given me. I watch lustfully as your legs slip beneath the sheets and you slowly pull the covers up to your neck, bit by bit hiding your beautiful body from my view. I haven't moved and haven't had even a second thought toward the towel and your command since your pants slid off your beautiful ass, but now you're glaring at me sleepily from the bed and ordering me to get my ass moving because I'm getting water everywhere. Ahh, that's more like it- there's the imperious Edge I remember so well.

I pick up the towel from the floor where it landed and begin drying myself off more thoroughly, taking care to dry my long hair, knowing how angry you get when it dampens your pillowcase. By the time I finish, you've turned your back to me and the deep, regular breathing almost leads me to believe that you're asleep, except for the tension evident in the muscles of your back. I cross over to your bed and stand by it nervously, not sure what I should do now. My cock is still throbbing with need, but you- for all appearances- seem to have entirely lost interest in me. I hesitate, unsure of myself; you are always the one to initiate. You prefer- no, demand- it that way. So I stand helpless, watching your still form for any hints of what you expect of me and clear my throat nervously. You roll over onto your back and open your eyes, watching me through half-lidded eyes for a few quiet moments.

"Oh for godsakes, get in the damn bed, Christian," you snap finally.

Relieved, I quickly slide in, feeling on more familiar territory taking my cue from you. My relief is short lived, however, when you still make no move toward me. My cock is tenting the sheets obscenely, and its growing almost painful in need of release. I shift uncomfortably- why must you always tease me? Can't anything ever be simple with you, Edge? ...No, of course not.

You watch me from the corner of your eye and I pretend not to notice as your lips quirk up into a knowing little smile. You know what I want, what I need, but you want me to ask for it. It's a game I remember well. I suffer in silence for a moment, unable- or unwilling- to voice this need. Under the sheet your hand brushes against my thigh and I draw in a sharp breath of surprise at the bolt of electricity that shoots through my skin at the simple touch. You smirk at my discomfort. You did that on purpose- you did it on purpose and now you're laughing at me. Bastard. I draw in a shaky, unsure breath to speak and it catches in my throat as your hand casually makes its way back down my thigh, making me stumble over my words. I clear my throat and try again.

"Edge," I whisper tentatively. Your head turns slightly and you quirk an eyebrow in inquiry. Your eyes are hazy and clouded with lust. You want this as much as I do. But you won't admit it, won't give in. You're going to make me ask for it. Make me beg. I swallow my pride for you once again.

"Edge, please... I need you..."

You smile, smug and serene. I hate you. Hate the way you make me feel. I hate myself for doing this with you- I'm burning with shame at the realization that this means nothing to you. Just an easy lay and another one night stand to notch your belt with. You roll onto your side and reach down, your strong hand slides behind my head, pulling my face up to yours and claiming my mouth in a deep kiss that leaves me panting for more.

I hate you, hate you and need you so bad. When did your touch become so addictive- your taste so intoxicating?

It feels like its been ages, but your soft, hot mouth slides down my body, refamiliarizing yourself with every one of my sweet spots, and finding them as easily as if I'd never been away. But why shouldn't it be easy for you? The months we were apart are nothing compared to the years we've spent since childhood, exploring and mapping every inch of each other's skin. And now you're putting those years of practice to good use, touching and tasting me, finding those delicate little places that only you know about. You kiss, suck, nibble and tease me to distraction until I'm breathless with need and crying your name, begging you for the love of god to please stop teasing me and just FUCK ME already.

Your eyes sparkle with a malignant pride, and your cock hardens immediately at my words. Does it make you feel good Edge, the way you make me surrender to you so easily? Does it make you feel more like a man to hear your baby brother beg shamelessly for your cock?

You grunt and roll me onto my back, yanking me roughly by the hair and pushing me down, forcing my legs apart with your strong hands. You pause for a moment as you settle yourself between my thighs, and I shiver beneath you at the look of unquenchable lust in your eyes. You want this- want me- as bad as I want you, but it would kill you to admit it. You feel me tense in anticipation of the pain and you run your long fingers tenderly down my cheek, leaning down to kiss me in an uncharacteristic display of affection. I want to stop time, to savor this moment forever, but as soon as the thought occurs, the tender moment is gone. With a sudden animalistic snarl you thrust into me violently and the pain becomes overwhelming. My wail of pain matches perfectly your wail of pleasure. Flesh tears and rips at your sudden invasion, my body tries desperately to adjust itself to your size. My fingers rake down your back in blind agony and you growl as your blood pools under my nails. You slap me lightly before yanking my hands away and pinning them above my head. I have just violated the cardinal rule: thou shalt not mark Edge.

You pull out and thrust back in roughly, and I bite back a cry. The coppery taste of my blood fills my mouth, and tears well up in my eyes. The pain is blinding- a ripping, searing, tearing agony. You thrust again and I cry your name, squeezing my eyes shut, to keep the tears from spilling over. I will not grant you that victory. Not this time. Your next thrust finds my prostate and a bolt of pleasure shoots through the raw pain. I whimper and writhe under you, finally looking up into your eyes again to find you studying me intently. Your green eyes are hazy and heavy lidded with pleasure; you moan with each cry I make.

You reach back and unwrap my legs from their death grip around your waist and balance them on your shoulders, to allow you even deeper penetration. Each long stroke you take is accentuated by animalistic grunt from you and a mewl mixed with pain and pleasure from me. I cry out again as new, heavier wave of pleasure rolls through me- you've angled your thrusts to touch my spot again and again- and now there is no pain in my cries, only a deep, insatiable need that you're doing your best to fill.

"Fuck..." you whisper as your deep thrusts pick up speed. You lean down and plaster your cheek to mine, tangling your fingers in my hair and nearly yanking it out in your frenzy. Your throaty moans and harsh panting in my ear threaten to send me over- if you'll pardon the pun- the edge. I thrust back despite myself, knowing you hate it when I do anything but allow you complete control, but I can't help myself. I need you so bad, Edge. I need to have you in me so deep that I can't tell where I end and you begin.

You're too far gone to even notice my indiscretion- you've missed this as much as I have. You pull out all the way and slam back into me, slamming roughly against my prostate and I let out a long, loud wail of pleasure before spilling my seed between us. Your grip tightens on me as my inner muscles clamp down on you, and I can feel you fighting desperately not to follow me over as you moan my name breathlessly into my ear.

"Christian... don't move, baby," you whisper, your sexy voice sending shivers down my spine. I feel a thrill of pleasure and pride at your words; you don't want to come yet- you can't get enough of me. I fight the urge to wiggle my hips, buck up against you, to do anything that will finally make you spill your load deep inside me. I want to feel your hot seed filling me up completely, want to see that impossibly beautiful face you make only when you come buried inside me.

We lay together, completely silent and still except for the heaving of our chests and the heavy panting filling the air. I look up at you, your eyes are closed and a frown of intense concentration mars your otherwise ruggedly handsome features. I wonder what you're thinking of right now, what it is that allows you to retain such rigid control of your body, but I don't ask. I know from past experience that 'Don't Move' also means 'Don't Speak'.

I lie there silently for a moment, entranced by the vision of you hovering over me, your skin glistening with sweat. After a few tense moments, you open your eyes and look down, you meet my eyes and offer a small smile before heaving a sigh and finally allowing my legs to drop from their uncomfortable position perched on your shoulders. Your forehead drops to meet mine, and you capture my lips in a slow deep kiss before breaking away and nibbling down my neck.

You kiss your way slowly down to my stomach, then stop and dart your tongue out to taste my come, which is sprayed along my abs. You lock eyes with me as you dip your head to lick my stomach clean, making sure I watch as you taste me. A lock of your long hair falls over your shoulder and trails sensuously through my seed, but you either don't notice or don't care. Watching you, I feel a familiar ache of longing begin to stir in my groin as my body tries to recover some of the passion that has been spent. A slow smile spreads across your face as I try to move, but you hold me firmly in place until you have licked every last drop from my stomach, then begin to deliberately clean the come which has smeared on you, wiping it off with your long, slender fingers and slowly sucking them clean.

I watch you with a twinge of pride- you only do this for me, I know. It's the one thing you regret ever telling me, how much you love my taste, how you love the feel of my hot seed sliding down your throat...

I can tell you're anxious to taste more, and you eye my limp cock greedily, but its still too sensitive to be touched, so you trail your mouth down my side instead, kissing along my v-shape and then my hips. You pause and bite at the sensitive flesh where the hip and thigh meet, breaking the skin and drawing a hiss from me. You smile at the sound- my pain pleases you.

You lap at the blood that wells up and spills over, then latch your sweet mouth onto the wound and begin to suck. At the gentle suction, my cock finally begins to stir back to life and I shift restlessly in the bed, moaning in pleasure. Vampirism is a fetish we've shared since our time spent in the Brood as pseudo-vampires, the knowledge that we share blood in more than the traditional way is somehow a potent and heady feeling.

Seeing my excitement mounting once again, you pull me to my knees and slip behind me. My breath catches at the realization that we are facing a mirror mounted on the wall opposite the bed, and I watch, enthralled, as your hand slips down and begins slowly stroking my cock. Overwhelmed by the pleasure you are giving to me, my eyes start to slip close. You nuzzle my neck for a second, then bite it to get my attention.

"Watch..." you growl into my ear.

My eyes open, and I'm immediately taken in by the vision of your silky tongue sliding out to collect the blood that is already flowing from this new wound. Your hands glide up my chest, finding my nipples and rubbing them as you begin sucking deeply on my neck. Your mouth is rough and almost painful- there will be a huge bruise there by morning, I'm sure- a direct contrast to your gentle fingers, which are rolling my nipples into stiff, sensitive peaks. The dual sensations of your tender caresses on one hand and your thoughtless cruelty on the other is both exciting and frightening at the same time.

I grind my ass back against your hardness, and you pinch my nipples, twisting them savagely in rebuke. I settle down again, until your hand leisurely finds its way down to my cock and begins a series of maddeningly slow, teasing strokes up and down the shaft. You purposely ignore the head, which has turned purple with my need, and I begin to squirm again, helplessly whining your name.

Your hands grasp my hips tightly, holding them in place. You lower your mouth to my ear and suck on the earlobe for a second, and I begin wriggling again. Your grip tightens painfully, and you dig your thumb into the open skin of the wound on my hip. I gasp at the pain and try to twist away.

"Still..." you demand, your breath hot on my ear, and recognizing THAT tone of your voice, I immediately stop moving.

You position yourself at my entrance, the head stretching my hole almost painfully, but you make no move to penetrate me further than the outer ring of muscle.

"Edge- " I whimper.

"Quiet..." You're staring at me sharply in the mirror; your eyes are cold and hard, watching for me to make even the smallest slip up. I shiver at the anger and lust mixed in those cold, dark eyes, but do my best to obey you and remain motionless. Your face softens at my effort, and I relax, sensing that you've been appeased. Then with a sudden, catlike quickness you snap your hips and your cock is buried deep inside me. I toss my head back onto your shoulder and scream your name. You grab my hair and shove my head forward, forcing me to look back into the mirror.

"Watch..." you growl again, as you pull back out.

Your next thrusts are vicious and deep, brushing against my prostate each time, and I pant and fall back against you as each new wave of pleasure crashes through my body with all the violent force of a tidal wave, leaving me wrung out and helpless before it recedes and a new wave threatens to overwhelm me.

Our gazes are locked in the mirror, and I watch your eyes grow hazy again and your eyelids begin to droop. You are so fucking sexy like this... Your panting in my ear grows heavier, your moans and grunts of pleasure are more frequent. You bite your lip in pleasure... you're so close...

You slow down, and pull halfway out, trying to rest and delay the inevitable. Your hands are grasping my hips firmly, holding them in place as I try to rock back in you. I moan your name; I need you in me Edge, I need you so bad... You squeeze my hips tighter, and your mouth quirks slightly in an arrogant smile. You love me like this, whimpering and writhing, begging you for more... oh god, why do you always have to tease me?

Unable to stand it anymore, I shove myself back on you, impaling myself on your cock. I will probably pay for that later, but for now you can only grunt in surprise and moan my name helplessly as I continue thrusting myself back on you. I open my eyes at the unexpected sound of my name on your lips and look at you in wonder, but your eyes are closed and you don't notice. Your head is flung back, your mouth open as you pant my name again and again in uncontrollable passion. I groan and thrust backwards faster and your fingers convulsively tighten their hold, digging cruelly into the tender flesh of my hips, turning it white where you have cut off the circulation. Your head droops against my shoulder and your hips begin to pick up speed again, matching the rhythm of mine thrust for thrust. Lights sparkle behind my eyes as the constant stimulation to my prostate begins to overwhelm me.

"Edge..." I whimper.

You open your eyes at the sound of your name, and we lock gazes in the mirror. You moan my name again and reach around my waist, grasping my cock firmly in your hand and begin stroking it fast and hard. I cry out and arch back into you, screaming and clawing desperately at your arms as the most intense, incredible, fucking beautiful orgasm floods through my body.

You shove me violently face first into the bed, one hand on the back of my neck pinning me down, the other hand next to me bracing you up on the bed and you begin reaming into me, every thrust slamming into my prostate for the most exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure I have ever felt in my life. I grab the sheet under me and continue screaming your name out, using what little leverage I can gain to push back hard against you. I need to feel you Edge, need to feel you come in me... I need you to complete me.

I look up at the mirror, barely able to see you from this uncomfortable position, and your feral beauty awes me. Your hair is a wild jumble of golden locks, plastered against your shoulders and neck; sweat pools on your forehead and trickles down your face. The only sounds you make are moans and grunts of pleasure- raw and animalistic. You're primitive and violent, you're lost in yourself with no regard for anything around you, only aware of the deep, burning need within you, of the seed that begs to be released... tears leak from my eyes and spill down my face. I cry your name again and again, words tumble from my mouth in a string of incoherent pleas... oh god, I need this so bad... come in me Edge, please... I need you...

I arch into every brutal thrust you make, tearing a primal scream of pleasure from your lips as you finally lose the last vestiges of control and your seed spills into me in searing hot spurts. You tremble as the last of your orgasm rolls through you, then collapse heavily on top of me. Your weight bears down and squeezes the air cruelly from my lungs, but you seem oblivious to my discomfort as your hand reaches down to caress my cheek.

Again I wish I could freeze time and savor this moment as you gaze down at me almost tenderly, your long articulate fingers tracing invisible patterns along my face. We lay together, looking into each others eyes, beyond the need for speech for the moment, and I no longer need you to speak those words I've so desperately wanted to hear, because right now your eyes are screaming them for me to see. I'm startled by the sudden realization that sex with you- mind blowing though it is- is secondary to me. This moment is what I live for, what I crave from you... this moment of deep satisfaction that comes from knowing that I've given you what only I can give you. That I have given of myself to you completely, that I can and do please you, this moment of knowing that you love me, even if only for a little while, even if you're unable to speak the words. I relax into your caresses; there is a certain power in knowing this, a small power that I now hold over you. And nothing you can do can ever take that away from me.

You smile down at me, serene and satisfied, and I stare at you for a moment before a small arrogant smile of my own twitches at my lips.