"We never go out any more Connor." Steve lounged on the sofa his feet resting lazily on the coffee table. He ran his fingers through greasy, dirty blonde hair while swapping his right foot over his left. The mud that was caked on his heavy army boots landed on the recently cleaned table. Connor watched forlornly as his work was undone.

When Connor had returned from his mission he'd found himself at a complete loss. As the life he once knew crumbled around him, Steve had been there and stupidly he'd fallen into the role of long-suffering housewife.

Connor was young, naïve and unemployed and Steve was incredibly attractive and owned his own house. There was no question of what to do. They had begun with a rocky relationship at best, something reminiscent of their 5th grade antics. It was love-hate. Connor loved Steve. Steve hated Connor.

Connor made sure he was out the house as much as possible, spending most evenings with a missionary friend or at the singles bar. Steve had become more and more possessive over Connor and set up curfews. Connor had protested by bringing his friends round to the house but Steve could easily turn aggressive.

One time it had turned particularly nasty, Connor was in his room with his old mission companion Chris Thomas. The two sat on the bed, giggling over old times, their bare bodies telling and creating new stories together. As Connor heard the front door slam, signalling the return of his boyfriend/landlord/abuser, he'd slid the chain across the door. The two ex Mormons climbed under the covers and held onto one another, Connor had the strange urge to laugh at the absurdly threatening game of hide and seek. Chris was comforted by the redhead's smile and wore one himself.

Both were soon wiped away with the violence that followed. Steve had managed to push the door off its hinges and it dangled at an angle, still grasping to the chain that was meant to protect. Steve staggered into the room stinking of alcohol and the unusual substance that Connor never dared to ask about. He was angry, very angry. He was holding a baseball bat, which had shards of glass dug into the battered wood. He slurred his words as he spoke "McKinley! There's a car outside that doesn't belong to either of us. It's parked in my spot it's in my way!" Connor gripped the sheets nervously eyeing the weapon in the drunk man's hand. "Where the fuck am I supposed to park my car if there's another fucking car in the way!"

Connor gulped and opened his mouth to speak without a clue as to what to say.

"And you know what I think McKinley," he continued, "I think that the bastard who owns that car is in my house right now. And do you want to how I know this?" Connor shook his head "Because his cock is up your ass right now." He gestured with the bat at the lump under the covers where Chris was whimpering, hoping to go unseen. He raised the weapon over his head and brought it down over the human shaped lump next to Connor. Chris yelped as it made painful contact with his shoulder. He was slightly protected by the duvet but the pain seared up his back and he began to cry. "Stop it Steve," Connor protested weakly, "You have no right to tell me who I can and can't sleep with." He wished he sounded stronger. He was trying to untangle himself from the sheets, devising a plan to tackle Steve giving Chris a chance to escape.

Steve laughed a hollow, disgustingly sarcastic laugh. "No right? I own you McKinley! This is my fucking house and as long as you and your ass live here they both belong to me."

He wasn't sure how but Chris had managed to get out. Steve had discarded the bat so he could claw at Connor with his bare hands. Connor took the blows and scratches barely wincing in pain as they embedded themselves in old wounds.

Sometimes he thought he would just never come back. Whenever he was out he thought about never returning, running endless circles round the block. But he always found himself back on Steve's doorstep. Most often he was begging for forgiveness for receiving whatever abuse Steve had subjected him to.

It wasn't always like this though. When thongs seemed really bad for Connor he'd think of the times when Steve played the lover. He'd cook or run a bath, there'd be rose petals strewn on the bed, champagne. Steve would stroke Connor's hair, kiss him softly and profess love. Afterwards they'd have sex. Connor didn't know why Steve bothered with the pretence still. He knew deep down it was payment to take what he wanted. Connor felt, exploited, whored out and moulded like putty in the hands of a man who once made him feel weak at the knees. Maybe he still did, sometimes Connor couldn't tell. Connor liked to pretend that Steve cared. Even when Steve was selfishly fucking Connor, the gentle former district leader would strain with all his might to enjoy it.

Steve would climax first, slip out of Connor and roll onto the other side of the bed, or floor, where the action was taking place and fall asleep without another word. Connor would sometimes finish himself off but mostly he couldn't be bothered and he'd lie awake for hours, his ass throbbing with pain, his cock aching for the touch of a man who would appreciate him.

Connor had got used to Steve calling out other names while they had sex but he still felt guilty himself for replacing Steve's rough and callous hands with either Chris's gentle exploration or Kevin's protective care.

Connor suffered domestic abuse but who could he tell. No one would take him seriously and there were so few he trusted to know the details of his lifestyle.

Connor's chipped and broken lips almost smiled at Steve's observation. He hadn't left the house in over a week. The last time he had he'd come home past the curfew and Steve had questioned and questioned his whereabouts. Connor had cracked and let loose the name of a man who he had stumbled across in a club one night. It was a chance encounter, one he had dreamed about and it had gone as he had played it out in his head but when he came home that night he was reminded of his reality. "That dick!" Connor thought his eardrums might explode as he flinched against the wall, wary of the poised fist inches from his face.

"Stay away from that asshole, McKinley! I'll know if you see him again, I'll know if you so much as speak to him!" Connor cried himself to sleep that night. He remembered the kind look that the brown eyes had given him, the flutters he felt as he touched the perfect brunette hair and the feelings of absolute safety as defined arms wrapped around him.

It wasn't cheating he told himself, he and Steve weren't even dating. Steve just sometimes took sex. He was just trying to escape and tear himself away from the abusive relationship he convinced himself he didn't want. When Steve violated him he felt shame but when he was, or imagined he was, with other men he felt safe.

Steve had begun double locking the door from the outside to prevent Connor leaving. The already pale man now looked pallid and sickly, a ghost of his former self.

"Where would we go?" His voice cracked from lack of use. He daren't say much in front of Steve out of fear.

"Oh I know a place." He was in a good mood at least, thought Connor. Steve got up and headed to the front door, he wasn't planning on changing out of the outfit he'd worn for the past three days. Connor normally would have been disgusted, always paying special attention to his grooming on a night out but tonight he didn't care. He just wanted to leave, the sooner they got out the longer they'd be out. So he joined Steve quickly trying hard to show indifference instead of eagerness.

"But remember," Steve threatened, "You are still mine. Absolutely no flirting allowed." He winked and pinched Connor's ass hard who blushed.

Connor allowed himself to be dragged around most of the night, pinched, kicked and squeezed by Steve and all the type people Steve attracted to them.

By about midnight Steve was getting bored of the club he'd picked out for himself. "Let's go this place is old." Connor, despite all the pain he endured in the place, recognised it as better than what he had at home. Steve noticed the look the man was giving to the floor. "Want to stay out McKinley? Ok then, that place down the road, I'll sit at the bar and watch you dance. Plan?" Connor nodded unassuredly. The new club was less noisy and the clientele less thuggish. Steve perched on a bar stool, arrogantly swigging back a beer, the number he'd had that night now in double figures. He swayed and spilt some down his already stained shirt and motioned at Connor to begin his dance.

Connor knew how to please and guiltily relished the moments where Steve allowed him to dance, his favourite thing to do in the world. He was immersed, the music pounding in his ears, the smell of sweat uninhibiting of his fluid movement. He was so engrossed in the dance that others around him were blotted out, their bodies disappearing into his periphery. He didn't notice as he accidentally bumped the hip of the man behind him, who promptly fell over, stumbling and creating a domino effect with several around them.

The man swung round ready for confrontation but stopped as he saw Connor's face. "Connor?" The redhead groaned as he looked into the eyes of the man he least wanted to see in this state. "Is that you?" It seemed like a stupid question but Connor realised he hadn't seen his reflection in a long while. He probably looked awful. He instinctively reached up a hand to flatten his hair. "Yeah I guess."

"Wow Connor you look...you look..."

"Terrible," Connor finished "I know."

Kevin looked genuinely concerned "Poptarts said you were having a bit of trouble but I never thought-"

"I'm fine."

"Connor you have two black eyes!

"Do I?"

"Yes! Look Connor I'm gonna help you get out of there." He took hold of his hand but Connor seemed almost reluctant to take hold of it.

"Kevin, I know you're trying to help, but I love him."

Kevin looked incredibly shooked. "Look at what he's doing to you!"

"I try not to." He smiled dryly.

"Let's find somewhere quiet to talk ok? There's a nice place for strong coffee a couple doors down."

"I can't Kevin, I'm here with Steve."

Kevin sighed "Where is that bastard?"

"Over there." He pointed to the stool where Steve had been watching, but was alarmed to see it had now been vacated. Connor was confused but was reassured by Kevin "He's left you, stood you up, now let's get you out of here." He held an arm out for the shorter man to slip under. Connor made to lean into Kevin for support but just as he did he felt a sharp blow to the back of the head. It was lucky Kevin was there to catch him or he would have landed on the hard floor. He was out cold.