He reached out a hand, but the space in the bed beside him was empty. Still warm, though: Steven must have got up for the bathroom. Brendan rolled onto that side of the mattress and went back to sleep, breathing the scent of the boy from the pillow where he'd laid his head.

When he woke up again, still alone, he looked at the clock. Nine-thirty. He'd worked at the club until two in the morning, so it was too early to get up, but Steven would have had to open the shop by now. So why was the smell of frying bacon beginning to seep through the bedroom door, and why could Brendan make out the sound of a voice singing tunelessly along to the radio? He got out of bed and stretched, then pulled on a pair of boxers and his dressing gown, and went to investigate.

Ste was in the kitchen with his back to Brendan. Brendan just had time to register that he was naked but for an apron and a pair of black socks, before the boy turned and flung himself at him, arms around his neck, and kissed him.

"Happy..." Ste kissed Brendan again "... Birthday."

"Who says it's my birthday? And Jesus, Steven, you can't dress like that, what if – ?"

"There's no-one home, just you. It is your birthday, I know it is, you grumpy git. Go and sit down."

Ste returned to the frying pan and started singing along to another song. Brendan stood for a moment, staring at his arse. It was a dilemma, but he decided: food first. He sat down at the table.

"What's this racket? Fucking Britney? You little gay."

"You love it, you. This song's mint."

"If you say so. Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Nope. Got the weekend off."

Ste finished assembling two bacon sandwiches, and took them to the table. He went to sit down, but Brendan grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him onto his lap.

"More comfortable than a chair, seeing as you forgot to put your pants on." Brendan curled one arm around Ste's middle, and reached with the other hand for his sandwich.

Both men were hungry; they ate in silence for a minute. Ste poured some orange juice.

"Here y'are."

"Cheers. Seeing as you've reminded me it's my birthday, we might as well have some Champagne in this. There's a bottle in the fridge."

"No, we can't."

"Why not?"

"You're driving."

"I'm not."

"Yeah you are." Ste shifted on Brendan's knee and looked at him, resting a hand on his chest. "We're going away for the weekend."

"What? I can't, I've got to work tonight. It's a nice idea, Steven, but – "

"It's all sorted, Bren. I've sorted it. The club, everything. We're going." He saw the resistance in Brendan's eyes, and held his breath waiting for more objections that would tell him that he'd gone too far.

"Why can't you drive?" Brendan watched the anxiety leave Ste's face, replaced by a smile that made his heart lurch.

"Cos you're a right nightmare in the passenger seat, that's why."

"No I'm not."

"Er, yes. Last time I drove you anywhere, you said Go, go, go! every time a light went green, and you practically grabbed the steering wheel on the roundabouts. No, I'm not driving us, no way."

Brendan drove.

:::::::

By the time they got to their destination it was early afternoon. The weather had got steadily worse as the day progressed, and they had to sprint through the rain from the car to the hotel.

Ste checked in, and Brendan stood back with their bags. He fought the feeling that everyone was looking at them, speculating about them; he remembered the subterfuge when they used to go to hotels in the early days, arriving separately, going separately to their room; coming together with a kind of desperation, and feeling that when they slept they were wasting precious time; Steven leaving first with the keys and waiting in the car for Brendan to join him. Never the same hotel twice. Now, he looked across the lobby at the boy – his boyfriend – chatting away to the girl at the desk. Brendan took a breath, picked up the bags, and went to stand at Ste's side.

A young porter came and took the bags from him.

"Would you like to follow me, sir?" He looked from Brendan to Ste. "And sir."

He led the way to the lift, and along the corridor when they reached their floor.

"Nice arse," Brendan whispered to Ste.

"I know." Ste looked at the black-trousered backside of the guy walking ahead of them carrying their bags. "Not my type, though."

Brendan gave Ste's bum a squeeze.

"Glad to hear it."

Their room was luxurious. Ste had never seen anything like it: he'd thought the hotels Brendan used to take him to were posh, but this one made him realise that they'd been pretty basic. They'd served their purpose, he knew, which was to give them a place away from prying eyes so they could forget the real world. He put the memories out of his mind, even though they were more good than bad: he didn't need to be thinking about the past. Things were different now.

Brendan wondered how Steven could afford to pay for this. His income wasn't bad these days, but he had two kids to support and never had much spare cash. He decided he would try and find a way to sneak some money into Steven's account in the next few weeks, just so he wouldn't find himself struggling.

The porter put the bags down.

"Dial two-zero-one for reception, two-zero-two for room service at any time – here's the menu. The dining room opens for breakfast from six-thirty til ten, and then from midday til – "

"Okay, son. We'll take it from here." Brendan gave him a fiver.

"Thank you sir. Enjoy your stay with us." He left.

Brendan turned to see Ste sitting on the bed. He was smoothing the sheets with his hand.

"Are them sheets silk, Brendan?"

Brendan felt them.

"Don't think so. Egyptian cotton, I reckon." He saw Ste's face fall. "Better than silk. Posher. Wanna try them out?"

Ste didn't need asking twice.

They rolled on the bed, grabbing at each other, tugging at each other's clothes to get to the bodies inside them. They both sat up to get their shoes and trousers off. Brendan was down to his boxers, and he reached for Ste again to take off his T-shirt.

"No."

Brendan stopped.

"What?"

"It's your birthday, Bren, you don't have to do anything. Lie down."

"Come on, Steven – "

"Lie down! Just lie back, and let me, you know..."

Brendan lay back on the bed. Ste straddled him and leaned forward to kiss him on the lips lightly two, three times, and then deeply, and felt Brendan's hands stroking up his sides taking his T-shirt with them. He sat up and pulled it off over his head, and then settled on Brendan's body and kissed down the centre of his chest, and licked and bit at his stomach just how Brendan liked to do to him. He heard Brendan's breathing get faster as he followed his treasure-trail with his tongue and kissed above the waistband of his boxers. Then he worked his way up again. He played with one nipple and the hairs around it with his fingers, pulling and pinching and rubbing; the other one he flicked with his tongue to make it hard, and then he sucked on it, and heard himself moan, and heard a deep groan of pleasure from Brendan.

Brendan put his hands on Ste's shoulders and gave him a push to encourage him downwards again; his cock was straining to get out of the tightness of his boxers. Ste sat back on Brendan's legs and tugged at the stretchy fabric, and as they came down, Brendan's cock sprang free and lay erect against his stomach. Ste kissed his thighs and lapped at his balls. Brendan lifted his head off the pillow to look. The boy's styled hair had become ruffled and unruly, and Brendan felt a surge of love for him, but frustration too. Ste was teasing, avoiding Brendan's cock as he kissed and licked and nibbled everywhere else, and Brendan decided that if that was his game, he wouldn't let him have it even if he wanted it. He pushed Ste up and off him with his knees, and rolled over onto his front. Ste sat back, wondering if Brendan had had enough or...

Brendan twisted around to look at him over his shoulder.

"Go on then." He lifted his pelvis a little off the bed to let Ste know what he wanted next.

"You don't want much, do you?" Ste stroked his palms firmly down from Brendan's shoulders to his buttocks. He kissed the base of his spine, and then parted the cheeks of his arse and licked between them, making him wet and responsive enough for him to push in with the tip of his tongue. He hadn't had much practice at this: Brendan didn't seem to like being on the receiving end much, although he rimmed Ste often enough.

Brendan's knuckles whitened as he gripped the pillow, and he grunted as he felt Ste's damp, hot breath, and his tongue circling and invading and curling inside him.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Ste jumped up.

"The fuck's that?" Brendan asked, back to earth with a bump.

"Dunno. Oh, could be room service."

"We ain't ordered room service."

"Um, yeah, I did, when we was downstairs."

Brendan felt his erection giving up.

"You better answer the door then, Steven."

"Can't you do it?" Ste felt exposed in his boxers and socks.

"Really, Steven? I think you're a bit more presentable than me." He indicated the bulge in Ste's pants, which was less emphatic than his own. "No offence."

Ste attempted to pull Brendan's boxers up, then he dragged the covers over him. He scrambled back into his jeans and T-shirt, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and answered the door.

A waiter wheeled a trolley into the room, and Ste watched as he transferred onto the table by the French windows an ice bucket with a bottle of Champagne, two glasses, a serving plate covered by a silver dome; two plates, knives and napkins.

"Would you like me to open your Champagne, sir?"

"Erm, no ta, it's alright, we'll do it. When he wakes up. He was tired, see, from the journey, so..."

"Anything else, sir?"

"No. Thank you." Ste waited for the waiter to leave, but instead he remained standing there until the penny dropped. "Oh, right."

Ste felt in his pockets but had no money there, so he picked up Brendan's jacket from among the clothes that lay strewn on the floor, found his wad of cash in the inside pocket, peeled off a note and gave it to the waiter.

"Thank you, sir." He quickly left.

"Erm, Brendan?" Ste watched Brendan emerge from under the covers. "I couldn't find my money to tip him, so I gave him some of yours."

"How much?"

"I think it was... It might've been a twenty," Ste mumbled.

"Twenty? Jesus, Steven, he only brought a fucking trolley up – or did he give you a blowjob while I wasn't looking?"

"Sorry, I just didn't..."

Brendan looked at him. He looked awkward and embarrassed, and very young. He got out of bed and went to him, and wrapped his arms around him, and kissed the close-cropped hair on the side of his head.

"Worth twenty quid to get rid of him. Now, what we got here?" Brendan reached for the silver dome, and when he lifted it off it revealed a plate of sandwiches, their crusts removed; he picked one up and inspected it. "Jam sandwiches?"

"Yep. Seedless. Or it better be, cos that's what I asked for. Is that alright? Cos I – "

Brendan stopped his mouth with a kiss.

:::::::

By the time they'd finished their sandwiches, the jacuzzi was full. They took their glasses and the rest of the Champagne into the bathroom. Brendan stepped out of his boxers and into the steaming, bubbling water, and Ste stripped off and climbed in, holding Brendan's hand for support as he sat down opposite him. Brendan refilled the glasses and handed one to Ste. He was getting tipsy, Brendan could tell: he was giggly, and his eyes were slightly glazed, and his cheeks were pink, although that could have been from the heat of the water.

"It's alright, this, innit? Jacco... what d'you call it?"

"Jacuzzi. Yeah, Steven, this is alright."

"Bubbly." Ste put his glass down on the edge and then slid below the water so it lapped at his chin, and only his head and knees were above the surface. He gazed at Brendan, and although he was beginning to feel hazy, some things were as sharp and clear as the picture on Brendan's HD telly. The hairs on his chest were plastered wetly to his skin. His arms, resting along the edges of the bath, glittered where droplets of water decorated the curves of the muscles. He hadn't shaved since yesterday morning, and his stubble seemed to blur the edges of his moustache. The creases around his eyes were deep, but they weren't the lines of worry like they sometimes were: they were softer now.

He walked his feet up Brendan's body and rested them on his shoulders. Brendan got hold of one of them and tickled the sole with his thumb. Ste laughed and squirmed.

"No! I mean it, Brendan, leave off!"

Brendan kept a grip on his ankle, and Ste splashed around trying to shake him off, sending water slopping onto the bathroom floor. Brendan relented, and wrestled him into his arms so he was sitting between his legs, his back against Brendan's chest.

"Slippery little bastard, ain't you."

Ste craned his neck around and grinned at Brendan, and they kissed.

"You gonna do my back for me?"

"Sure I am."

"Erm, that's not me back," Ste said as Brendan reached around and took hold of his cock, gripping it firmly and rubbing his thumb over its tip. "Oh, fuck..."

Ste's neck arched back and his wet head lolled against Brendan's shoulder as Brendan worked on him, holding him tightly around his belly so that he wouldn't slip beneath the water.

"You like that, do you?" He took his time, and felt Ste's whole body shudder as a burst of cum shot into the water and disappeared in its swirl.

Ste curled around and clung to Brendan, and kissed the crook of his neck.

:::::::

They'd dried each other off. Brendan had taken one of the big, thick towels and gently dried Ste's body, its planes and its crevices.

Steven had gone quiet for once, and Brendan was able to think his own thoughts, and found himself incredulous that they were here like this, together: that after all the games had stopped, and in the full knowledge that being with Brendan brought with it dangers from outside, Steven had come back to him of his own free will. The boy was perfect, every inch of him, and the only marks on him were the ones got willingly in the tussles of last night's sex.

"Give it here, it's your turn," Ste had said, and dried Brendan more vigorously and less reverently than the way Brendan had dried him.

Now, they were back in the bedroom wearing the hotel's fluffy bath robes, and starting a second bottle of Champagne that Brendan had had sent up.

Ste went to the window. The view was completely obscured by the rain, which showed no signs of easing off.

"I thought we'd go out tonight, but it's pissing down," he said. He was disappointed.

Brendan opened the French windows and stepped out onto the balcony. Rain was pouring onto the canopy above and waterfalling off the edge of it in front of him. He didn't mind the rain; it made him think of Ireland, and he anticipated how everything would feel clean and unfamiliar when the skies cleared.

Ste came out and stood next to him, and Brendan put his arm around him.

"We don't need to go out, Steven. We can get room service later."

Ste looked up at Brendan.

"Is that alright?" he asked.

"Course."

They went back inside, and Ste shut the windows then went around the room picking up their clothes and laying them on a chair. He found his socks, and put them on.

He saw Brendan rolling his eyes at him.

"What?"

"Your socks."

"What about them?" Ste demanded.

"Always the socks. I'm surprised you didn't wear them in the bath."

"Jacuzzi. Anyway, what's your problem? I was cold."

"There's central heating on, love, how can you be cold?"

"You had the doors open though."

"Only for a minute, Steven. And they're windows, you call them, not doors."

"You know what, Brendan? You think you can tell me what I can wear? I'm telling you, no you can't, no way."

"I didn't mean – "

"Whatever."

"Steven, I was only having a joke with you, I didn't mean to make you – "

"Don't worry about it. I'm going for a wazz."

As he headed for the bathroom, Ste hitched up his robe and scratched his bum.

"You ought to have a tennis dress on."

Ste stopped and turned back to Brendan.

"What?"

"Tennis dress. You know, that poster. Athena, whatever, the girl with her – "

"I dunno what you're on about." Ste disappeared into the bathroom, his attempt to slam the door thwarted by its refined swoosh and muted click.

Brendan sat down heavily on the bed. He sometimes forgot how young Steven was – and how insecure. Fuck. How had he managed to put him in a bad mood all of a sudden? It would blow over, he knew, because it always did with Steven. He'd got past so much big stuff – worse things than he should ever have had to have in his head, let alone be expected to forgive – so these little spats were almost always over as quickly as they began. Still, Brendan felt guilty. He'd have to make it up to him.

:::::::

Ste looked at his reflection in the mirror over the basin as he washed his hands. He was frowning. They'd spoilt things, hadn't they, arguing over something stupid when right now, they ought to be appreciating that they were happier than they'd ever thought they could be. He rubbed his frown away with his fingertips, and then noticed that around his mouth the skin was red from Brendan's stubble. It made him smile: it was one of the things that he'd found himself missing during all the time they weren't together. He'd never got stubble rash from Dougie.

He looked at the row of bottles arranged on a long glass shelf. Bath oils, shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, all from a posh brand he'd never even heard of. He opened the body lotion and gave it a sniff. It was alright, not too girly. He smeared a little of it onto his face around his lips to soothe the soreness, and then he shrugged off his robe and pulled off his socks, and slathered himself in it from his neck to his feet, massaging it in until it was all absorbed. There was no full-length mirror in the bathroom, but he could see his shoulders in the one above the hand basin, and his skin looked golden and gleaming. Maybe the way Brendan was with him, the way he sometimes ran his hands all over him as if he was something... something special... maybe he ought to start believing it himself.

They'd still just had an argument though, because Brendan had made fun of him. Ste put his robe back on and tied its belt emphatically, and then put on his socks. What had Brendan said? There's central heating on, love, how can you be cold? Bloody Brendan. What right did he have to decide if he was warm enough?

Hang on. Love. Brendan had called him love. Right in the middle of an argument so he hadn't noticed. Mate, sometimes he called him; kid now and again. Boy if he was angry and laying down the law. But this? This was a first.

Ste opened the bathroom door and went back into the bedroom.

Brendan had thrown back the covers and was lying on the bed, propped up on one elbow, naked except for a pair of black socks. He waited for Ste to stop laughing, then got up and went to him.

"Thank you, Steven."

"What for?"

"This. All of this, I don't – "

"You gonna thank me properly then?"

Brendan tilted Ste's chin up with his hand, and almost kissed him, but stopped before their lips touched. Slowly, he untied the belt of Ste's robe; he slid it off his shoulders and onto the floor, and then stood back for a moment to look him up and down. And then he carried him to bed.

He wanted to have him there and then. He'd waited all day, wanted him all day, ever since he'd got up this morning and found him making breakfast in just that apron, with his arse on display asking to be grabbed. He wanted to take him now, no more teasing, no more foreplay, no finesse, no more interruptions from bloody room service. Just take him, bend him in half and fuck him til they'd both had enough. But he couldn't do that. The look of the boy stopped him short, as he lay on the bed facing him and ran his fingers through his hair. It was fluffy from the steam in the bathroom, and Brendan pulled his head towards him and kissed it, and it was soft against his lips, and his skin felt silky and warm as he ran his hand from shoulder to wrist.

"What do you want, Steven?" Brendan breathed into his ear. "Tell me."

"Can we just have a nice cuddle?"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Okay, if that's what you – "

Brendan felt Ste's body begin to shake in his arms until the laughter burst out of him when he couldn't hold it in any more.

"As if, Brendan!"

"You laugh like a fucking donkey, d'you know that?"

"Yeah, you've told me loads of times."

"You gonna tell me, then?"

"What?"

"What you want, Steven."

Ste was serious now.

"You."

Brendan studied his face. There was something tentative in the eyes that looked back at him from under their fringe of lashes, until Brendan smiled at him and all doubts went away, and they were kissing, breathless and avid.

Ste rolled from his side onto his back. He wanted to feel Brendan's strength now and know that he was powerful and certain. Whenever he thought of how broken Brendan had been, how defeated, how for a long time the fight had gone out of him, it frightened him – even though that was how he'd been when Ste had fallen in love with him again.

Brendan made no move, so Ste reached for his cock, and then Brendan was on him, a knee between Ste's legs, and biting at his lips and tongue as Ste arched his back beneath him.

"Want me, do you?" Brendan demanded, and Ste clawed at his back in reply, but Brendan wanted more than that, and nudged him hard enough with his knee to elicit a gasp. "Tell me. Please."

"I want you, Brendan, I love you..."

Now when Brendan kissed him it was different, gentle and intense, pressing his lips on Ste's mouth and throat and collar bone, and resting there for a minute as Ste stroked his back. Then he raised himself up and looked at his face.

"You're a good lad, d'you know that?"

"I know I am, yeah. So, we gonna shag now or what?" He could feel Brendan's cock pressing hard against him, and he was desperate for it now.

Brendan reached for a condom from the bedside table, and sat back on his haunches and ripped it open. Ste sat up, his legs either side of Brendan, and took the condom and rolled it onto him, and then held his face in his hands and leaned forward to kiss him. Then he twisted round and stretched to pick up the tube of lube; he handed it to Brendan, and laid back on the bed. Brendan got hold of both Ste's legs and propped them on his shoulder, raising his arse off the mattress, and lubricated him, watching him shut his eyes as his fingers went in.

He got between his legs when Ste was ready, and licked from his navel to his throat, and then kissed him, and entered him, groaning at the feeling of tightness around him as he pushed rhythmically deeper. Outside, the rain had become a storm, and a crash of thunder startled both of them, jolting them to a halt for a second or two but then driving them on as they writhed together.

Ste dragged at Brendan with his arms and legs, desperate once he had him inside him to keep him there, and to feel the heaviness of him crushing the breath from his lungs. He felt full of him, burning with him; it felt as if there was no-one left but the two of them, falling and flying, soundtracked by the storm.

"Fuck. Fuck." Ste's hand delved between their bodies and grasped his own cock.

Brendan loved how Steven turned foul-mouthed when he fucked him. Loved. Sometimes he counted how many Fucks he got out of him: once, there'd been eight, and that wasn't counting the Ohs and the Oh Gods.

This was a nine-Fuck fuck.

:::::::

At some point, they remembered they hadn't eaten for hours, and Brendan sat up in bed and dialled room service. Ste was curled around him, his head against Brendan's chest, and Brendan handed him the phone and the menu.

"What d'you fancy, Brendan?"

"You."

"Shush, they've answered. What shall I order?"

"Whatever you like. You choose."

Ste studied the menu as Brendan played idly with the razored hair at the nape of his neck.

"Erm, I'd like to order the steak please. Twice." He hung up.

"I'd rather have the fish, Steven, but – "

"Oh, you're well funny, you are."

"I like to think so." Brendan held Ste's face in his hand and stroked his thumb across his lips. "Did they say how long that order's gonna take?"

"Long enough," Ste said, and he slid down Brendan's body and disappeared under the covers.