The Break Up

by Love Out Of Lust

Brendan breaks up with Ste when his father Seamus comes to stay. This will have two parts.

1. Chapter 1

It is a Tuesday when you leave him. You'd settled on the previous Sunday, but you got distracted by certain things, cast astray. You'd taken the kids to the park and they'd dressed up in their winter gear. Steven was wearing a ridiculous bobble hat, a Christmas present from Amy that you would have loved to burn, but he swung out of reach when you made an attempt to grab it.

"Stop it, you!"

He'd let out that booming laugh of his then, jumping over the ice like an overexcited child, trying to get away from you.

"It's an abomination."

"I think it quite suits me."

He flashed you a smile then, and you got that sinking feeling in your gut. How the hell were you going to do this now, with him looking at you like that?

He started taking off the scarf which had been wrapped around him.

"Steven, what are you doing? You'll freeze to death."

The only goose bumps you liked to see on his skin were when you traced his collarbone delicately with your fingers.

"Come here."

Frowning, you had stepped closer to him, Leah and Lucas playing in front of you.

He reached out and put the scarf around your own neck then, tying it securely in place. Immediately the biting cold that had been ascending since you'd left the flat lessened its grip. You wondered how on earth Steven's skin could constantly be warm, because you felt it then, that the warmth was from him. His own body, rather than the material.

He had insisted you take a scarf with you when you set out earlier, but you told him that you didn't really do scarves, despite it being January and the snow only just clearing up. You weren't like Steven, a knitted jumper kind of guy. You thought of that as a rather bad habit that he'd picked up from Douglas, although you couldn't always argue against it when you lay your head against his shoulders when you curled up watching tv together, and he became your own version of a pillow.

You couldn't refuse him then though, not when his hands were still around the loose ends of the scarf, and he was using them to pull you in for a kiss. You hesitated for a moment, looking at Leah and Lucas, but they continued to play on with the last vestiges of snow, looking for all the world like watching the two men before them standing less than two centimeters apart was a normal event. And you supposed it was for them, after living with Douglas, although you tried to not think of that. The idea of Douglas being their step father and sharing Steven's bed was a memory that you very much wanted to remain in the past.

Steven's lips had an icy quality to them, but they soon warmed up against yours. Kissing him was both new and wonderfully familiar each time. You had a strange kind of rhythm now, a way of doing things. You knew how he liked to anchor your head closer to his using his hands on the back of your neck. You liked feeling his cheek against your palm, and moving your and his tongues together gradually, changing the exploration from one of gentleness to intimacy. Yet each time you discovered something different about him. The joy of kissing him after he had eaten something sweet, and still had that taste of chocolate in his mouth. The bash of teeth against teeth when you were desperate for him, hungry. You never knew that kissing the same person everyday could hold the beauty that it did.

You tried to break away, but his kiss had lingered, and it was harder to resist than even you'd ever thought. When you drew apart his smile was like sunshine, and you could have stared at him forever.

When you got back to his flat, you planned to do it then. Wait till the kids were settled, and then sit him down and tell him.

This isn't working for me. This...relationship. I don't want to be with you anymore.

You kept on imagining the look on his face, and whether he'd cry in front of you or not. Or maybe he'd be angry with you, furious, shouting in your face. You would prefer that. You could take his fury, but you couldn't take his sadness, his disappointment. His pain.

You tried to think of each single second as it came. You couldn't allow your mind to drift to that evening, your first without him since Christmas. Of course you'd miss the physical aspects, because nothing had ever been as good as sex with Steven. But it was more than that. Much, much more.

You weren't sure you even knew how to sleep without him anymore, although God knows you'd had years of being alone in your own bed. You'd got used to him hogging the covers, of making those muffled sounds, not close to a snore, but like he was consumed by dreams, and his body was trying to figure them out.

You'd miss the way you woke up with him spooned against you. His hair would be messy with sleep, and sometimes you'd lie awake, gently untangle yourself from him, and stare at his features, at his chest as it rose and fell.

Sometimes you weren't entirely sure if Steven was human, because you didn't see how someone could be that perfect. No wonder you'd had to beat down all the other competition before. His eyelashes reminded you of that Disney film Bambi that you and Cheryl used to watch when you were kids. They looked even longer when he was asleep, and once or twice you tried to count how many lashes he had, your own version of counting sheep.

You loved how long and pointed his nose was, and the warmth of his eyes, and how they would blaze when he became passionate about something, which knowing Steven amounted to every other minute. You'd been with men in the past who'd been muscular, who had broad shoulders like yourself, sculptured chests - men who clearly spent a good few hours at the gym.

But there was something about Steven. He molded against you as though you fitted together like a glove. But he was strong too, and flexible. You'd learnt that early on, and made good use of it, bending his legs in half when you were in bed together, preparing him, stroking him, licking him, sucking him. You wouldn't even have to hold him in place, because he had that strength himself.

You'd miss the way he loved you, as unconditional as any love could be. No matter what day you'd had, you could come to his flat and know that you'd find something there. Acceptance, you supposed it was. Arms opened wide to let you in, to envelope you completely. You could have faced a hundred bastards at work, you could have had Joel's sullen face to deal with, you could have fucked up the accounts or ordered the wrong stock. You could have seen your father with Cheryl, seen him hug her or stroke her hand. But when you were with Steven, that all seemed to numb into nothingness, and his happiness became your happiness.

You were losing the light in your life, and so when the moment came when the kids had warmed up after their walk, and Steven and you were sitting round the table, steaming mugs of tea in your hands, you'd hesitated. You couldn't do it.

You couldn't stand to wipe the smile off his face. He had plans for you that night. Put the kids to bed early, and watch a film, just the two of you. He would cook anything you liked, and you knew without having to ask what it would lead to. You were surprised you hadn't already done the bed more damage, considering how old and downright rickety it was. You'd been planning to buy Steven a new one, a luxury double bed, silk sheets, the works, but you thought that perhaps that didn't matter now. If you had to think about Steven being with another man again, you were damned if you were going to buy them a bed to fuck on.

You could live the rest of your life like this, exactly like this. Being with him, sharing responsibility of the kids. You cursed yourself that you'd wasted so much time for two years, when you could have been like this the entire time. Dealing with peoples looks and whispered remarks had almost become part of the fun. You'd watch as they looked for that second too long at your and Steven's interlocked hands, and stare them down till they looked away. You'd practically barked in the faces of a group of lads who'd made comments when you'd been kissing in The Dog.

But you couldn't deal with him looking. With him knowing. You'd wanted to avoid the whole situation entirely, to keep Steven as far away from him as possible. You must have been an idiot to think that you could have done that forever. Seamus wasn't just paying a flying visit like you'd been expecting. He seemed to be putting down roots, like he was planning on staying a while.

Cheryl had told him. Said it had slipped out, like your son is gay can ever just slip out. But you'd still been hopeful, believed that as long as you could keep your relationship with Steven under wraps, then it could all still be okay. You should have known that Seamus would find out somehow, that he'd follow you like he always had, that you couldn't escape from him.

To know that he'd watched you while you ran into Steven in the village made your stomach turn. You imagined him watching from the alleyway, seeing you kiss the boy, seeing him take your hand. You hated the thought of your father's eyes being on him for one single moment. All you'd told Steven was that your father was back, and you didn't know how long for. You'd seen the boy struggling with what to say, before he eventually settled on putting his arms around you and asking if you were okay.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

You needed to be strong in this.

"After what you told me outside the police station..."

"You remember that?" You couldn't hide the wonderment in your voice.

"Of course I do. I remember everything you tell me."

You'd stroked down the shaven sides of his hair, felt it spike against your hand. It was wonderfully soft.

"I don't want you two to meet, Steven."

He'd pulled back from you then, his eyes wide.

"Are you...do you not want him to know who I am?"

"It's not like that." And it wasn't. "He's not...he's not a good man. I don't want you to get to know someone like that."

You'd expected him to put up a fight, to accuse you of hiding out again, of being ashamed of him. But he'd stilled for a moment, and been quiet. Then he'd looked up at you, and spoke firmly.

"Okay. I won't see him."

You'd blinked, surprised. "You mean it?"

"Yeah. I won't go over to the flat. We can meet here instead."

You had breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like some of the tension you'd been feeling since you'd got back from Dublin and found your father waiting for you had dissipated.

"Thank you."

"You can come round here whenever. I mean, if you don't want to see him. You can stay here."

You couldn't believe he was doing this for you, that he was understanding all of this without arguing back, or driving you away. But then he'd been like this for a long time, hadn't he? Your pillar of strength.

For a little while you'd believed that if you could just keep Steven away from your father, then you could manage this. You envisioned the day when your dad would tell you he was going back home, and you'd be free of him from the house again, his looming presence causing a constant dark, suffocating shadow over you. You'd be able to invite Steven round again, to see him spread over the sofa where he belonged, lounging in his pajamas, being able to pad about the place naked when Cheryl would be out for the night.

You'd gone to bed on the Sunday with Steven cocooned in your arms, the soundest sleep you'd had for a good long while. Everything in your gut was telling you to hang onto the boy for dear life, that you couldn't live without him anymore. You didn't care if you were being fucking selfish. You'd only just got him back, and you couldn't imagine what you'd say to him that would have him believing that what you said on that bridge in Dublin wasn't true. You briefly considered punching him again, anything to shake his belief and devotion to you, but it went out of your mind as quickly as it came into it. You couldn't do that to him again. The last time you'd hit him had cost you both dearly. You'd laid awake every night when you were apart and thought about it, how he'd laid on the floor bleeding, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He'd told you so himself when he'd come to Dublin to find you.

So you thought you were saving me by hurting me, Brendan? You know what, you really can be a complete idiot sometimes.

The next day you'd put all thoughts of leaving Steven out of your mind. So what if Seamus had seen you together, and found out that you were with him? You could still protect Steven. They had still never officially met. It was all going to be okay.

You'd been walking to the club, texting Steven to see what time he could meet up later that day, when you'd seen them. They were standing outside Price Slice, Steven having just been in to buy a pint of milk. Seamus was holding a bag with the morning papers, and they were talking, as casually as if they'd been two friends who'd bumped into each other.

You felt more sick than you had in a long time. More sick than after you and Steven had seen the New Year in together in style. More sick than when sawed away at Mick's body.

You tried to walk up to them calmly, but it felt more like a run. Steven noticed your presence first, and when he looked at you his brow creased. You wondered how you must look.

You tried to gauge the expression on your father's face when he turned to face you, but you couldn't make it out. There was nothing there.

"What are you two doing?"

Steven had looked between you and Seamus worriedly. His arms were crossed in a defensive position, and you desperately wanted to know if it was because Seamus had done something to make him feel uncomfortable.

"Just catching up with Ste here," Seamus had said, and again, there was nothing in his voice.

You tried to control your breathing, to keep your voice normal. The last thing you needed was for Steven to worry.

"Steven, why don't you get to work? You've got a deli to run, haven't you?"

For once, you were intensely relieved that Steven was going to see Douglas.

You watched his retreating back, then once he was out of earshot you immediately turned to Seamus.

"What the hell are you doing?"

You thought you saw the hint of a smile then.

"I'm just talking to your boy, Brendan."

He said your boy like it was slime on his shoe.

"I've been here a couple of weeks now, and you haven't even introduced us."

"That was intentional."

Seamus shook his head. "You know, I'm going to be here for a long time. I like this place. It could make a good home."

You couldn't accept what you were hearing.

"This place will never be your home."

"I don't see why you have to be difficult about this. If this...Ste...is a part of your life, then I should get to know him, don't you think?"

You felt cold fear run through you. This would be the point where you'd be right up in someones face, telling them the odds. But you didn't want to take a step closer to your father.

"You stay away from him. You pass him in the street like that again, you go in the other direction."

Seamus merely tutted. "I don't see why you have to make everything so difficult, son. I just want us to all get on. I was thinking of getting Cheryl to invite the lad round for a family meal."

Your head was pounding so fiercely that you thought you'd be seeing stars soon.

"No," you said quickly, desperately. "I'll tell her not to."

Seamus chucked then, like he was laughing at a joke.

"I think we both know who Cheryl's always listened to in this family, eh? Now I better get back. She'll be wondering where I am."

You felt him pass by you then, his jacket grazing against your own. The smallest touch would make you feel his presence around you all day.

Only one thing was capable of making you forget, and you knew then that you had to let it go. You had to let Steven go.

It consumed you all day in the club, until Joel caught you leaning over the books at your desk, not having read a single word in fifteen minutes.

"Brendan?"

You could hear someone calling, but it was as if through a fog.

"Brendan?"

You heard it properly that time, but it was so unimportant next to all the thoughts you were having, next to the plan you were forming.

You waved Joel away after reassuring him that you were fine, and you made sure you locked the door that time. You didn't need any disturbances or distractions. The last thing you needed was something that would make you change your mind again.

You had thought that you could keep Steven safe, that you could build a wall that would separate him and your father, but it was already crumbling at the seams. One word from Cheryl and she would override you and invite Steven round. You couldn't keep him locked up and hidden away from the world forever. She was bound to ask questions, and so was he. What if he started telling you that people could change, that you should give your father a second chance?

You knew you had only two choices. Break up with Steven so that there would be no family dinners, no meetings. Your father wouldn't care about talking to him in the street if he was no longer your boyfriend, no longer part of your life. He would be safe.

Or you could tell Steven and Cheryl the real reason why you could never allow them to sit in the same room. Why the mere thought of Seamus looking at Steven made you terrified, and furious.

You could tell them what had happened when you were eight.

It wasn't really a choice at all. You would finish with him.

You knew the boy wouldn't let you go easily. You would have to plant that seed of doubt in his mind. Make him think that things weren't working, although how the hell you'd manage to do that within a few days, you had no idea. Part of you wanted for him to believe the truth, that your love for him was unshakeable, that to be apart from him was to be in hell. But you knew that for his own good he had to think that you didn't want him anymore.

You begun as soon as you reached work. You deleted the text that you were going to send him, and avoided contacting him all day. At times you'd have to turn off your phone to stop from doing so, and your fingers twitched in agitation with your desire to hear his voice.

You didn't get lunch at Carter and Hay like you usually did. Instead you went to College Coffee during the time that you knew Steven was most busy, so that you wouldn't bump into him. The sandwich didn't taste as good. Steven knew just how you liked it, the right consistency of everything. He knew how you took your coffee. He liked making it with extra froth so he could laugh at the foam tache that he created. You remembered how he liked to stick his finger out and scoop up the froth from your face, and then lick it, like a promise of what was to come that night.

At four o'clock you got your first text from him.

Hope you're not too busy to eat lunch! x

You deleted it immediately, not wanting to stare at the kiss at the end of it any longer. You distracted yourself with mundane tasks, for preparing to open that night. It was at times like that when you wished that the place had more customers, that the business would be a welcome relief from your own mind.

At eight o'clock the next text came.

Do you want to come over tonight? x

You hadn't ignored more than one message from him in a long time. In the past you'd had to stop yourself from calling him while he was at work, just to see how he was. You had known that you were being selfish, that you just wanted him to make your day better, like only he could. You pictured him at the deli, a frown on his face, wondering what was so important that you'd ignored him for hours on end.

At nine o'clock you got a voicemail. You considered erasing it straight away, but the masochist in you couldn't resist listening.

"Hi Bren, it's me. Sorry for calling, I know you must be really busy to not reply to my messages."

You inwardly kicked yourself for making him think that you couldn't talk to him. You could hear the slight hesitancy in his voice. Subtle, but there nonetheless. You would always hate yourself for making him believe that he was chasing you, that you were withdrawing, detaching yourself.

"I just wanted to see if you're free tonight. I managed to get a babysistter for the kids."

Fuck. He'd actually managed to organise it. You'd talked about getting a sitter for weeks so you could have one night completely alone together. You could imagine him waiting for you at the flat, stripped down to his boxers, all yours to enjoy.

You'd never wanted anything so much.

Before you knew it, you'd typed out a message.

Of course I'm free. I'm sorry for not contacting you before. Something came up, but I'll come over as soon as I'm done here.

You were about to send it when your finger stilled on the button. You remembered Seamus's words in the village earlier that morning. The way he was looking at Steven before you'd interrupted.

You hastily switched off your phone.

When your shift was over you walked back home as quickly as you could, scanning the streets for any sign of Steven. It had been several weeks since you'd spent the night at home, and it felt strange going back there. Cheryl and Seamus were watching television together, and Cheryl stared up at you in surprise.

"Are you not staying at Ste's tonight?"

You shook your head, avoiding your father's gaze.

That night you considered putting a chair in front of your door, but then felt faintly ridiculous for it. You didn't need something else protecting you. You could protect yourself. Realistically you knew that Seamus wouldn't try anything. Not now you were older, and could fight back. He wouldn't dare.

But the knowledge that he was sleeping just a few doors down never left you. You wondered if he got any sleep that night either.

The next morning, you'd been scared to turn on your phone. You'd imagined a series of angry messages from Steven, asking you where you'd been, that he'd spent money hiring a babysitter and you hadn't even gone round. You knew that you couldn't do this forever, that today you'd have to tell him it was over. He deserved more than you ending your relationship than slowing phasing out your communication with him. You'd have to be a fucking man and pick up the phone sometime.

You were surprised when you saw not a single message from him. You felt a stab of disappointment that he hadn't tried to contact you again. Maybe your role in his life really wasn't as pronounced as you'd thought it was. If he hadn't come round to your place if you'd asked him to then you'd be round the flat, demanding what had happened. But then perhaps Steven didn't need you as much as you needed him.

Suddenly you wondered if something had happened to him. If between the last time he'd contacted you at nine and now, he'd had an accident. What if...what if Seamus had gone round to the flat, and things had got out of hand...

You'd rushed out of bed then, throwing on your clothes hurriedly. You distantly heard Cheryl ask where you were off to in such a rush, but you continued walking, threading your hands through your hair in panic.

Your not so brilliant plan already felt like it was falling apart. You should have contacted Steven, you should have told him that you couldn't go round, but at least make sure that he was alright.

You ran down the steps of the flat two at a time, and didn't stop till you were outside the deli.

Looking into the glass, you let out an intake of breath when you saw Steven inside, handing out coffees to the first customers of the day. He looked fine, better than fine, and the images you'd had of Seamus's hands on him vanished.

You tried to compose yourself, to be able to reach a point where you'd be able to go back upstairs so he wouldn't see you, but you should have known that he'd always had a sixth sense when you'd been around, and before you could stop it, he'd turned his head and seen you standing outside.

He stared closer, as if trying to make sure it was really you, then waved for you to come in. You considered running for it there and then, but reminded yourself of your earlier thought. Be a fucking man.

You swung the door open and approached the counter. You were grateful that Douglas was in the kitchen, because you didn't need this to be any more awkward than it already was.

You could tell straight away that Steven was angry with you. He had that closed off, detached expression that he got when he was in a sulk, his bottom lip jutting out. Usually you'd find it somewhere between exasperating and adorable, but that day you wanted more. You wanted more of his anger than that, because it was only what you deserved.

"So you decided to show your face then?"

That sarky voice. The boy had more guts than anyone you'd ever known.

"Uh...yeah..." You tried to keep your voice neutral.

You kept on thinking it in your mind. Today. I have to break up with him today.

"You got my messages?"

"Yes..."

"But chose not to reply?"

"Steven..."

Maybe you'd been wrong about thinking that he didn't care.

"Don't you 'Steven' me. I tried to cancel on Myra McQueen, but she wouldn't let me. Said we had some sort of business agreement. A business agreement for babysitting! Do you know how much I paid for you?"

"No -"

"And I cooked all evening, lighted candles, tidied up the place."

You felt your heart beating hard in your chest. He'd lighted candles. Fuck.

"And you can't even be bothered to tell me you're not going to turn up!"

You didn't have to fake your guilt. You felt it tear into you, but you had to not let it show too much. It was better for him if he thought you didn't care.

"Sorry Steven, I was busy."

He snorted, and sliced open a panini with a bit more vigor than necessary.

"What were you so busy doing?"

"The club was packed, I had a late night."

"On a Monday?"

"People still have that post Christmas cheer I guess," you said feebly.

He shook his head, barely looking at you.

"Look, I should go. I've got a lot to do today."

You turned on your heel and began heading for the door, when his voice called you back.

"How are you going to make it up to me then?"

You couldn't believe that he was still willing to give you a chance. Part of you had hoped that would be it. That he'd finish with you for being a bastard, and you'd be able to end the whole thing silently and with minimal fuss.

But what was it that Steven had said that time? After you and him had argued over you hitting a punter who'd called him queer.

We're in a relationship, Brendan. I'm not just going to break up with you after one argument. That's what this is all about. Us working through things together.

"Uh...I'm not sure..."

"I am." He smiled a little then. "Come over to mine this evening. Six o'clock. Maybe we can find some way for you to apologise."

You stared into his eyes, which were full of hope. Still with complete trust in you. And you realised that there wasn't going to be an easy way to do this.

You tried to come up with excuses in your mind as to why you couldn't go. All of them made sense, but you couldn't face telling Steven. And what if you didn't go? Would he go out somewhere else, and run into your father? You knew that Seamus went to the pub to drink in the evenings sometimes, and while you'd been secure in the past that Steven would turn round and leave if he saw him in there, you weren't sure of anything anymore. Maybe he'd want to defy you, and if it was late, and they were walking home in the dark...

When you grabbed your jacket to leave for Steven's later that night, you unconsciously stuffed a condom in the back of your jeans pocket, then hesitated, and removed it again. You wouldn't be needing that tonight. You had already decided that you wouldn't sleep with Steven again. That wouldn't be fair. It would be taking what you needed from him, showing him that you wanted him, and then doing something that would give him the complete opposite message. You couldn't let him think that you had just used him for sex.

Your knock on his door felt nothing like your usual assured entrance. You hoped that when he answered he'd still be in a mood, cold and with only one word answers to give, but he beamed at you, bright and so dazzlingly gorgeous that you hated yourself for what you'd planned even more.

"What are you doing standing in the cold? Come in!" You realised that your hesitancy must be showing.

Before you could take your jacket off he was on you, kissing you.

You broke it off. "I've barely even got through the door."

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

You went through to the living room, where Leah and Lucas were sat in their pajamas, watching cartoons. They looked like they were barely keeping their eyes open, but when they saw you they leapt up, rushing towards you.

"Brendan!" they called simultaneously, hugging you around your knees.

You stroked their hair affectionately. They were beautiful kids. You knew that Leah wasn't Steven's own - he'd always been upfront about that with you. She looked like her mother, but somehow she was so much like her father. Her personality, her boldness. Lucas was more shy, but when you picked him up he seemed to settle and relax in your arms. You wondered if a part of him remembered when you used to do it to him when he was younger, in the times when you'd make your unexpected visits.

"Alright you two, now you've seen Brendan it's off to bed."

You listened to their protests, watching as Steven took them by their hands and led them to their bedrooms. Leah and Lucas had only been in your life properly for a matter of weeks, and yet you felt like they were already your family. They were Steven's, and you loved them on principle.

He closed their door quietly, then came back to join you.

"They should be asleep soon. They only stayed up so they could see you."

You couldn't help but smile.

You began to make your way towards the sofa, but he reached out for your arm.

"Not there. Come on."

He motioned for you to follow him, and he walked towards his bedroom.

You knew what was coming, and you wanted to run out of the house there and then. That was exactly what you had wanted to avoid.

When you were both inside the bedroom, Steven closed the door. He'd installed a lock a week ago after the kids had burst in when he'd been going down on you. Thank God the covers had hidden both his head and your body, but you'd both had some explaining to do, eventually settling on the "Ste was trying to find uncle Brendan's missing sock" excuse.

You sorely wished that the lock was not there then, and that Leah and Lucas would interrupt you. But it was silent, the only noise being the faint sound of Steven's jumper and t-shirt hitting the floor as he removed them.

"What are you -" you begun, but he stole your words with a kiss.

"I didn't know I could miss sex so much after one night," he said with a grin, and you knew exactly what he meant.

His hands started working the fasten of your jeans. You knew how easy it sounded in principle. All you had to do was step back, away from his hold. Just a few simple words, and he would be free from you, free from Seamus. But the smooth lines of his skin were in front of you, his expert hands shucking off your pants, his face full of complete love and understanding, and you couldn't deny him anything.

You reached out and stroked his chest, felt your hands travel over his little stiff, pink nipples. Your instinct took over, and you pulled him over to you forcefully. He laughed at first, taken aback by the change in your behaviour, then settled in your arms and kissed you back with the same amount of passion that you used with him.

You backed him towards the bed and pushed him down onto it, where he landed with a soft thud. He had that look in his eyes, that look that said that he knew exactly what you were going to do to him, and was asking for all of it, everything you had to give him.

You shook yourself out of your jeans, and removed your boxers in one fluid motion. Your cock was thick already. Steven wasn't the only one who had found the night apart difficult.

He raced to get his own clothes off, and nearly fell off the bed doing so. He laughed, and you couldn't help but do the same. You loved his eagerness, his lack of shame.

You wanted to be inside him so much that you felt like your skin was on fire. You lay on top of him and felt the rub of smooth skin against your own hairier body, creating a delicious friction of sorts. Steven's body was a beautiful contrast, the soft, hairless upper half contrasting with the fuzz of his legs and pubic hair. You moaned against his mouth when tasting him, the resolve to end things only making you want him that much more.

He reached for your cock between your colliding bodies and stroked it firmly, making it more erect.

You began to pant, and turned your face against his neck, sucking the skin there until it was red from your actions.

You wished he wasn't so good at this, working you into a frenzy. It would be so much easier to leave him if he didn't have such a hold over your heart and body. But instead he clasped both tightly in his hands, worshipping them, making you never want to walk away.

You shifted up in the bed, and he moved with you.

"Brendan..." his voice was muffled. "Get a thingy."

Steven's rather non eloquent word for a condom.

You were about to make a grab for one when you remembered that you had left it at home.

"I uh...I don't have one."

Steven sighed deeply, running his fingers through your hair.

"Well don't worry about it."

Don't worry about it? Was that your chance to get out of there, to stop doing this thing that you knew was wrong?

"Okay..."

"We've both been tested anyway."

You frowned. "You want me to sleep with you without a condom?"

He nodded, his hand moving down to touch your lips.

"I'm not planning to be with anyone else, so...are you?"

You shook your head on instinct, then wished you hadn't. But how could you tell Steven that you planned to be with someone else soon? Anyone but him, because he was the only person who was for keeps. The only one you wanted to look after.

Truthfully, days before you had been going to suggest to him that you stop with condoms completely.

"Good. So...come on." He wrapped his legs more securely around your waist and stroked your arse with the sole of his foot. The way he was looking, you knew he wanted it now. No foreplay, no messing around. He wanted you to be in him, to make up for the night spent away from each other.

"I haven't got any lube. I don't want to hurt you."

Steven rolled his eyes. "I don't care. Come on Brendan, for fucks sake."

You grinned a little at that. Your sex life had definitely not been something you'd ever worried about.

You positioned yourself at Steven's entrance, and slowly guided your cock inside him. He was tight, and you regretted letting him get you caught up in his urgency. You watched his face for signs that he was in pain, but he closed his eyes, and his face looked calm, almost relaxed, like he was somewhere beautiful.

You begun with deep, measured thrusts at first, and the boy clung to you, kissing you as you moved. He rolled his hips up to meet yours, and you were reminded of how amazing he was, how he was your match in every way.

Steven leaned forwards and licked a stripe across your lips, and you felt his warm breath ghost across your face. He clawed at your back and then moved his hands to squeeze your arse, drawing it closer to him, and you knew that was his indication to go faster, harder.

You kissed him again, just because you could, just because it felt lovely, and the bed, that damn unstable bed, squeaked with your thrusts.

You didn't care, and from the looks of it, neither did he. You wanted to make the bed squeak as loud as possible.

Suddenly you were aware of a noise, an unwelcome intrusion. You looked at where the sound was coming from, and saw your phone flashing from the table where you'd placed it when you'd taken your jeans off.

"Leave it," Steven said, noticing your dwindled attention, but you couldn't leave it. You had a feeling. You weren't sure why, but you had one.

You made an effort to still your body, and reached over to the table to pick up your phone.

Home

You wondered who it would be. Cheryl, calling to ask you if you'd be back that night? Or Seamus, checking up on you. He knew that you wouldn't answer to his mobile, that you hadn't even kept his number in your phone.

You rejected the call, and pulled out of Steven. He winced, then sat up with you on the bed.

"Who was it?"

"Home."

"Why didn't you answer it then?"

You shrugged. You felt suddenly exhausted. Exhausted of the whole thing, and desperately wanting to stay with this man, but knowing you couldn't.

Steven placed his hands either side of your shoulders. He was still hot from sex, his face shining with sweat.

"Come back to bed then."

You were already in bed, but you knew what he meant. He meant come back to him.

"I have to go, Steven."

You got up properly then, your cock springing before you, still hard. You quickly tucked it inside your boxers.

"Why?"

You hated hearing the confusion in his voice, the edge of sadness.

"I can't be here." Finally, you were telling the truth.

He laughed in disbelief. "What do you mean, can't be here?"

You turned to face him as you put your t-shirt over your head. The sheets were bundled around him, but you could still see all of him.

"Put some clothes on."

Somehow it felt wrong doing it like that, with him completely naked before you.

He rose from the bed and put some boxers on. An old striped pair that you had fond memories of, although you teased him enough about them.

"What's going on? First you act all weird yesterday, then this morning,..and now you're suddenly leaving?"

You'd made a terrible mistake in sleeping with him. You'd confused things, jumbled them in your mind. God knows what he must have been thinking.

"I'm sorry." You said it because it was true and honest. Perhaps the only honest thing about all of this.

"Don't be sorry, I can't do anything with sorry. Just tell me what's wrong."

There wasn't the annoyance that you expected from him. Only concern.

"I can't do this anymore."

It sounded like a bad break up line from a movie, but you didn't know what else to say.

Steven moved his head to one side, as if trying to comprehend what you were saying. His eyes were large and vulnerable.

"What? What are you talking about?"

You reminded yourself that you could live with this, even if it felt impossible right then. You couldn't live with Seamus ridiculing Steven, or manipulating him, or hurting him.

"It's over. I don't want to be with you."