A/N
Thank you all for the lovely words of encouragement - they mean the world. Hope you enjoy the next chapter, hot on the heels of the first. Didn't want you to wait too long for this so that you have the chance to warm up to the story a bit more. Enjoy!
Chapter 2
It was Tuesday night in the club. Brendan had been perched on his usual bar stool surveying his empire. He had broken up one fight tonight already and he wasn't in the mood for another. He was tense and finding it hard to concentrate.
The fact that his eye kept drifting back to follow the familiar figure of the young holiday rep wasn't helping matters, nor was the gnawing feeling that the only way to fight the hideous, self-inflicted hangover he was suffering from was with more alcohol.
Fight fire with fire.
He'd done that too many times to count in recent weeks, so he knew all too well that there was a pain barrier, a threshold of nausea he had to break through to get to the reassuring, numb oblivion on the other side.
Just as he reached behind the bar to top up his glass, Ste came sloping over unsteadily.
'Hiya! Y'alright Brendan? What's wrong with you?' Ste looked at him, questioningly, tilting his head as if genuinely concerned and mildly bewildered at the same time. 'Why you always sitting over here on your own like a miserable old git?'
Is he slurring or is that just the whiskey slowing my brain down, finally?
'Because despite what you pretend I know that you're not.' He was talking even more ramblingly than usual, barely coming up for air as his words ran into each other. 'And I ain't lying or suckin' up or nothing when I say you're me favourite on the bar circuit. You are Brendan. I mean it. So handsome, even though you know it.'
Is he about to pinch my fucking cheeks while he's at it and tell me how much I've grown?
'And you know what, Brendan Brady, you ain't fooling me.' Ste pushed him firmly on the shoulder but Brendan, solid in his stance and well used to rough physical contact, barely budged.
With anyone else Brendan would have treated such behaviour as a confrontation, an easy excuse for a roughing up; but with young Steven, who was usually so sharp and sensible, so together, he couldn't help but raise a smile to meet the wide beam facing him. He had never seen Steven this loose, this inebriated. It was fucking funny.
But Ste wasn't finished with his assessment of the real Brendan Brady just yet.
'An'you ain't as macho as you like to pretend, either.' He sounded serious despite the slurring. He chose at that moment to squeeze Brendan's bicep cheekily. 'Well, maybe you are quite macho,' he was grinning again. 'But I know there's a big heart under there, Brendan, you just have to show it.' His hand moved across Brendan's body and the palm came to rest against his chest. Feeling the warmth coming off the boy in the centre of his being was like electricity straight into Brendan's sluggish veins. Ste's head fluttered to watch where his hand was resting, just for a few seconds.
Brendan wanted to lift his own hand from his side and bring that head towards his own, to lift it gently under the chin and kiss him, or - hell, what was he thinking - to press that head down towards the pressure building beneath his belt - he felt certain that Ste would be receptive, maybe even wanted it as much as Brendan did.
But before Brendan had the chance to process the sensations rushing through him, Steven had taken his hand away, turned sharply on his heel and was back amongst the throngs.
What the hell was that about?
Brendan's next hour or so passed in the usual way: Kevin hassling him for attention and Rhys spending more time chatting up women than working, while Brendan simmered away beside the bar, surveying it all.
The problem was, that although Brendan's eyes were fixed on the goings on in the bar, his mind wouldn't stop wandering back to the feel of Steven's hand against him, how it would feel clutching onto his bicep for support as Brendan thrust, naked, into him, or what those long fingers would feel like wrapped around his dick…
Without thinking, he looked up to see where Steven was now. His eyes scanned the crowed room, but he couldn't see the familiar outline he craved. Until - there he was, his back turned, on the terrace outside, in his bright red work shirt unsteadily making his way down the path, propped against that pervy old guy in the glasses.
Brendan felt something stirring within him - bile? Jealousy? Alarm bells? Yes, that was it.
Where was Ste going? His tour group was still in the bar, drinking away their way through pre-paid tickets. Surely he wasn't leaving them on their own?
Something wasn't right, Brendan knew it instinctively, suddenly.
Never drink on a work night, me. The words echoed around in Brendan's head as if a gun shot had gone off.
He leapt over the bar and was down the path in an instant, pushing away anyone who stood unsuspectingly in his way, adrenaline surging through his system and his fists ready for the flight or fight defence. But in this state there would be no contest, no stopping him - not even an earthquake or a bolt of lightning from God would be able to stand in his way.
'Steven! Steven!'
A few drinkers on the terrace turned to look but most people were too drunk to notice the fast-moving figure, too deafened by the beating music to hear his shouts.
In a few lithe strides Brendan caught them up and grabbed Steven's arm, pushing him protectively behind him, shielding him with his body. Roughly he pushed the greying man away, sending him flying backwards but not completely over, onto the outside table behind. The old guy sent a a cool palm down the side of his forehead to slick down his comb-over and prepared a dignified, victimised front with which to counter the aggressive manner of his confronter.
'I'm fine, I'm fine…'
As if anyone had asked.
'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' Brendan's face was vivid red with anger, his hand still holding tight to the arm of the swaying boy behind him. But he didn't have a chance to see through his accusations, as he felt Steven's dragging on his arm as he toppled to the ground. The change of Ste's weight earthwards was so sudden it took Brendan most of the way with him, spinning him round so that he was almost crouching beside the boy.
Brendan brought a protective hand to the side of Ste's face. He was sweating profusely 'Steven, can you hear me? Steven?'
Brendan couldn't have been more surprised to have his urgent questioning returned with a giggle.
'Brendan, Brendan.' Ste was hiccuping and giggling his words, his eyes firmly closed as he palmed at the hand that was still pressed against his face and moved it across to brush it against his lips. He kissed the fingertips as lightly as he could manage the state he was in. Adrenaline, desire - something unspeakable made Brendan's stomach lurch uncontrollably as the touch. 'You look after me,' he said as he moved Brendan's hand back to his cheek and held it there.
'Yeah, yeah I do,' Brendan said soothingly.
'But who's gunna rescue you, Brendan?' Ste eyes flickered open beneath his spidery lashes, just for a second, and looked right into Brendan's gaze, before passing out completely.
—
Hospitals weren't Brendan's favourite places at the best of times - too many memories he'd rather erase, that brain-thudding lighting, shit coffee and the unshakable scent of desperation - let alone when no-one would tell him anything and he had, instead, to listen to the mindless chatter of uncontrollably drunk Brits on holiday that seemed to fill the A&E waiting room. It was excruciating to put up with and embarrassing to be associated with. Old Brendan would have started at least three fights in the time he had had to wait until, at last, they let him see Steven.
Finally, at some indistinct hour before dawn, a neat, dark-haired nurse led him through to the section of ward that they had curtained off around the boy. He looked thinner than Brendan remembered and as a result even more fragile - how was that possible in only a few hours? His eyes were open but so heavy that when Brendan gazed down at him he could barely see his eyes at all; instead he was met with an eyeful of those impossibly dark lashes fluttering gently.
'Gave us a real scare back there, didn't ya?' There was tenderness in his voice as he tried to soften the situation for Steven's sake. It worked and Brendan was rewarded with that grin, the one that seemed to cut Brendan's inside to shreds and tie them back together again in great big messy knots.
Once Brendan had sat down he let his hand slip up to Ste's forehead and stroked along his brow. His skin was clammy and his dark hairline moist with beads of sweat. Brendan swallowed down the memory of sitting at his sons' besides like this when they had come down with fever that time, or when Cheryl had fallen off her bike as a kid and given herself concussion.
This isn't the same thing. This boy's practically a stranger. You aren't responsible for him.
Ste quickly fell back to sleep again, his hand pressed into one of Brendan's, whose other hand rested in amongst tufts of Ste's hair. He stroked it gently as he watched the boy's chest rise and fall underneath the bedsheets.
How much he wanted to drop his head down and plant the softest of kisses on those beautifully protruding lips, just the faintest graze…
Next thing he knew, Brendan was waking up at the sound of footstep approaching along the corridor. He looked up from the position he had fallen asleep in, his forehead resting on the side of the bed, when a familiar yet unwanted voice exclaimed, 'Ste!'
Brendan opened his eyes in time to see Noah rushing over to the opposite side of the bed and pick up Ste's free hand. The patient stirred, opening his eyes just a fraction with a small groan.
'Easy there, Steven.' Brendan squeezed Ste's hand tighter and, removing the hand from his hair, reached to the bedside table for the glass of orange fluid placed there. He positioned the straw between Ste's lips. 'Here - try and drink a bit of this.'
It was only at that intimate gesture that Noah seemed to register Brendan's presence.
'I'll take that.' He reached in and firmly grasped the plastic glass, expecting Brendan to release his hand. He clearly didn't know Brendan Brady.
'Easy tiger,' Brendan got to his feet, rising to meet Noah's stature, still clutching the cup as it moved away from Ste's mouth. 'I got this,' he hissed from between gritted teeth.
'It's ok,' Ste croaked, barely audible, attempting to diffuse the situation.
'How you feeling babe?' Noah decided to try a different tactic and his attention turned to Ste instead as he backed down, showily leaning over to give Ste a kiss squarely on the lips, then looking deliberately straight back at Brendan.
Brendan could only curl his lip in disgust at the sight.
Ste coughed slightly. 'Terrible. Like the worst hangover ever.'
Brendan had breathed a sigh at the sound of Ste's voice, just about coherent again, his tongue clinging onto the 'g' of 'hangover' in that thick accent that should have annoyed Brendan, did annoy Brendan on anyone else, but somehow not on Ste. There had been a terrifying split second back there somewhere when Brendan had confronted the possibility that he might never hear that voice again.
Get yourself out of here, Brady. He's fine now and staying isn't going to get you anywhere except a police cell. Be smart, cut your loses, the voice said.
'Fine. I get it, three's a crowd. I'll see ya, Steven.' Brendan tried a brief smile. It didn't stick and Brendan didn't hang around for a response.
—
Brendan could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Ste's familiar figure loping into the bar later that same evening.
'Didn't expect to see you up and about so soon,' was all Brendan managed to get out. That wasn't all he wanted to say but he bit back the rest of the words: What the hell are you doing here? Get back to bed. Look after yourself. And definitely don't walk around on your own at night after what happened. Especially as I was stupid enough and too distracted with you to let that Silas bloke get away.
But at least while he's here I can keep an eye on him, said another voice.
It wasn't just words that Brendan had to bite back. He would never have admitted it, but he knew the feeling deep down, that he wanted to wrap his arms around Steven, to pull him so close that nothing could ever touch him again. Only something flickering in Brendan's eyes gave him away.
Ste looked back at Brendan intently, somehow, unnervingly, tapping into the other man's concern. Unprompted he said, 'Don't worry, Noah's on his way so he'll look after me. I mean, I'm not going to be out late on me own or anything tonight.'
That's supposed to be comforting? That you're going to be out with some other guy? The words made Brendan feel sick to his stomach. That he'll be the one take you home to bed and "look after you" when the night's over as well? Brendan felt a familiar rage brewing in his belly.
'Good, well as long as you're not going to be alone tonight,' Brendan tried his best to summon his coolest front as he spoke.
Ste's mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. What he thought he heard Brendan saying wasn't the same as the words that were coming from his lips, somehow didn't match up with the expression on his face. Or was he right in detecting a trace of hurt in the tone?
Why would Brendan Brady be bothered what I was up to? You're imagining it. Brendan doesn't care about anyone except Brendan Brady.
Brendan swallowed hard and attempted to follow up what he had just said with something more lighthearted, but despite the attempt at a grin on his face it still sounded husky and laden with meaning that Ste couldn't grasp. 'You gave us a real fright back there, kid.' You gave me a real fright back there kid.
'Yeah, well I was dead lucky. I mean, to have you looking out for me an'all.'
'Just doing my job.' There was that detached tone again, not matching the glint of something deeper glazing his eyes.
Ste gazed back at Brendan as they spoke, taking in the characteristic movements of his features, trying to make sense of the almost-concealed emotions that whispered across his face, holding eye contact for just a touch too long. It made Ste's stomach do summersaults, being stood so close like this, almost being able to feel Brendan's body heat, to taste the whiskey on Brendan's breath…it was intoxicating.
'Noah!' Suddenly Ste's eyes diverted from Brendan and over the Irishman's shoulder to the figure entering the bar. Was Brendan imagining it or did Steven look a little flushed, a little guilty even?
'Hiya babe, how you feeling?' Noah asked, planting a kiss on Ste's lips before he had the chance to respond.
It took every ounce of strength Brendan could summon not to grab the guy by the scruff of the neck and throw him back out onto the street where he came from. But this was New Brendan. He had to remain calm. He would have to be smarter than that.
'Yeah alright, ta. I was just saying to Brendan, that's why we came in.' He spoke as if trying to remind Noah of a conversation they had already had. 'Cos I didn't get to thank him properly for last night, remember.' He turned back towards Brendan, his brow furrowing with his earnest tone as he looked up from beneath those eyelashes. 'I'd like to do sommat as a thank you. Take you out for a drink if you like? Wait, that's silly, you own a bar.' Ste sounded annoyed at himself for saying something he realised was stupid and looked down at his hands in embarrassment. 'You don't need me buying you drinks.' He looked up back at Brendan coyly: 'Or a bite to eat, right, say thanks properly?'
Ste was still holding Brendan's gaze when Noah decided to chip in.
'Yeah, we could all go. Make it a double date.'
Butt out Noah. Brendan could feel himself tense in response to that most unhelpful of suggestions. Was this guy stupid or was he doing it deliberately?You're not needed here. Where were you when Steven was in trouble? This has got nothing to do with you. He's too good for you and the sooner he realises that the better. And he will realise it, young Noah. Mark my words.
But instead of saying any of that, Brendan grimaced a smile and said, 'Yeah, yeah, sounds good, lemme know, yeah,' and he turned to leave without looking back.
—
The dreaded evening came all too soon. Brendan had tried to get out of it but somehow he had found it impossible to disappoint Steven, to let him down; his Steven, who had looked so fresh and keen when he had come into the bar the other day and said so simply, 'I hope you're looking forward to tomorrow night as much as I am,' before rushing back outside to his latest group with a mile-wide grin on his face.
And not that he liked to admit it, but for the last few weeks Brendan had felt like there was a constant itch prickling under his skin and the only way to stop it was spending time with that stupid little poofter. Except he wasn't a stupid little poofter, however hard Brendan tried to dismiss him with flippant insults. He was Steven. His Steven.
No, there was no getting out of it. Brendan was going to have to do whatever he could to make the best of the situation.
—
Brendan was sitting at the bar, slurping back his third whisky of the evening when Noah and Ste arrived together. There were a few early evening drinkers in the room as well, but generally it was pretty quiet. Brendan looked up briefly and without acknowledging incoming pair went straight back to the dregs of his glass.
'Alright,' Ste said chirpily, his inimitable accent lingering on the air.
Brendan did little more than grunt in response, then seemingly getting himself together, managed to offer them a drink. He passed them each a bottle of beer and topped up his own glass liberally.
Brendan didn't seem in a talkative mood and the tension between the group was growing with every silent second. Noah had all but decided to give him the dumb, glaring treatment anyway, so it was left to Ste to fill the silence - which he did easily with his usual loose flow of trivialities. He stopped abruptly when a young guy appeared from behind Brendan and immediately settled his hand on the Irishman's shoulder.
'Hope I'm not late for you darlin',' The newcomer stated in a thick Scottish accent, accompanied by a cheeky smile.
'I'd say you're perfectly on time.' Brendan turned towards him with a feline grin on his face. 'Steven, Noah, this is Sean. Can't have a double date without a..' he tilted his head to the side as wrapped his lips around the word.. 'date,' he finally spat out menacingly, 'now can we?'
Brendan's stunt had the desired effect as Ste and Noah looked at each other in surprise. There was just a trace of another emotion on one of their faces. Perturbed. That would be the word for the expression that any of the men present would have detected on Ste's face had they been studying it closely enough; but Brendan was too busy looking at Sean, and Noah was too gobsmacked looking at Brendan looking at Sean.
'Shall we, gentlemen?' Brendan said, offering Sean his arm as the group set off towards a nearby restaurant.
—
'I'll have the calamari fritti to start please, then the tagliatelle al salmone, ta.' The Italian words rolled off Ste's tongue. His pronunciation and emphasis were surprisingly impeccable. He blushed slightly as he felt the table looking at him with bemusement on their faces. 'When I worked in the restaurant business, me old boss Tony was well into Italian and all that, so he taught me a few words. Can't really put a sentence together but I'm alright with the words for food. Don't sound quite right when I say it though, does it?' He smiled self-deprecatingly.
'I think it's sweet,' Noah crooned, stroking Ste's leg under the table
'Ahhhhh..' Brendan threw back, sarcastically imitating his rival, 'Sweeeeet.' What was wrong with Noah? Physically, he looked like a beast from all that time he spent in the gym but he was clearly a wet fucking pussy. And no-one at this table wanted one of talking in that voice was fucking hot, Brendan thought to himself, not the kind of 'sweet' you'd call a kitten. And imagine what else he can do with that tongue. Bet you wouldn't even know what to do with it, Noah, would you now?
Ste's skill had impressed Brendan too, not just gone straight to his trousers. To look at, Ste was just another good-looking young lad, ten-a-penny out here, but barely scratch the surface and it was as though he had lived a dozen lives already, done and seen more than other people do in fifty years.
'You not gonna eat them olives?' Ste reached diagonally across the table and helped himself from Brendan's plate.
Brendan, for an instant, looked back in disbelief before retorting, 'Maybe I was saving them for later?'
'No you weren't,' Ste pinched another one and carried on with the story he was telling about when he worked in the restaurant with this Tony guy.
It was only a few moments later that Sean cockily leaned into Brendan's space and plucked two chips from beside his steak.
'Get your hands off! What in god's name do you think you're doing?' Brendan reacted as if someone had dropped a jug of ice-cold water into his lap. 'I never share my food, got it?'
'But Ste…'
'Never!'
The table went back to their meals in silence.
'So, how did you guys say it was you met?' Noah ventured after a few awkward minutes had passed and they had finished they had put down their cutlery.
'Oh, we go way back, don't we Brendan?' Sean reached out to squeeze Brendan's hand as he spoke. 'We first met years ago back in Liverpool. Couldn't believe my eyes when we bumped into each other out here, too. It seemed like it was meant to be.' Brendan felt himself bristle at the touch. He had warned Sean about that. Like you're my doting plaything. That was the brief Brendan had given him. But don't you dare touch me. But the boy was a bloody good actor, Brendan gave him that.
'Cos you never mentioned anything about seeing someone,' Ste added, finding it hard to conceal a note of disappointment in his voice. He didn't seem to want to make any eye contact, as though he was sudden feeling self-conscious or insecure. It made him look younger, boyish.
The plan was starting to come together nicely, Brendan thought. Time for phase two.
Without any warning, Brendan abruptly threw a wad of notes down on the table and headed for the door. He didn't bother to look behind him.
Back in the comfort of his own bar, Brendan flung himself down on a sofa in the corner. He was glad he'd had the sense to reserve it, given that the place was heaving already.
The other men followed him and sat down on the seats around him.
'Drinks?' Brendan said, reverting naturally back to the role of host though maintaining a hint of hostility in his voice. 'There's a bottle up there with our name on it.' He uncrossed his legs leisurely and made to get up to go to the bar.
'You relax, darlin', I'll get it.' Sean jumped up instead. Brendan glared at the arm easing him back into his seat. 'Perhaps you could give me a hand, Noah? Make use of those arms of yours.'
'Yeah. Sure. Why not,' Noah responded, flatly. He glanced at Ste a little uncomfortably as he got up.
The two men pushed through the heaving bar. Just as they approached their destination and were about to muscle their way through to claim their bottle, the DJ started the next song. Sean suddenly sprang to life, bouncing on his toes with excitement.
'I love this one! Let's dance!'
'What about the drinks…' Noah began to say, unenthused, but Sean cut him off.
'Forget the drinks!' he yelled, grabbing his arm and dragging a reluctant-looking Noah to the dance floor.
Ste and Brendan watched them as they went.
'He seems nice,' Ste ventured, sounding unconvinced.
'You think? Wouldn'a thought he was your type.'
'No, I didn't mean it like, that. I just meant that…well…he…' He was having trouble getting the words out.
'He does have his advantages,' Brendan added, provocatively.
'Oh right, um…' Brendan really wasn't helping to put the lad at ease.
'But let's just say he's a temporary measure. Filling in until someone else comes along. Someone better.' The intensity of Brendan's stare in his peripheral vision was making Ste blush. He had to keep looking straight ahead and not at Brendan to stand any chance of keeping his composure.
How does he do that? How does he make everything sound like a come-on? Like he's about to jump my bones at any second. Like he can see me naked right now.
Brendan had paused just long enough to let his previous comment sink in. When he opened his mouth to speak again he had changed his tone so drastically it was disarming. 'Where are these drinks?' He leapt up and headed towards the bar.
Why doe he always do that? He must know how unnerving it is. A thrill ran underneath Ste's skin.
'Um, I'll give you a hand..' Ste added weakly, following suit.
Brendan had reached the bar but was now staring over to the dance floor rather than helping himself as he usually did.
Brendan tutted as Ste caught him up. 'Looks like we've found ourselves two naughty boys.' He didn't sound surprised to see Sean and Noah, lips locked together as they swayed to the music, their hands hinting at the kind of activities that were enough to get you thrown out of most respectable establishments.
When, a few seconds later, the pair came up for air, they must have felt the keen bore of two pairs of eyes on them. Noah looked round in time to see the shock fixed on Ste's face just before he ran towards the door.
He bolted straight from the bar, over the road and down the sandy path to the beach.
His face was hot and there was something pulsing behind his eyes - blood, tears, uncontrollable emotions - as he mentally chastised himself for being so stupid, for thinking Noah cared, to think that he, Ste, might have been worth something.
He was sitting with his knees up looking out across the waves, berating himself, when Brendan caught up. He took his time to approach, gauging Ste's mindset, taking in the image, before approaching slowly, with all the confidence of a big cat on the prowl.
Ste's head turned as he heard the gentle sound of someone approaching. Brendan rested his hand lightly on Ste's shoulder, just for a moment, before sliding to the ground beside him.
Neither man said anything, the sound of waves and distance dance music filling the silence.
'Do you ever wonder how you ended up here?' Ste asked finally.
'All the time, Steven. All the time.' Ste wasn't used to hearing Brendan speak in such a melancholy tone of voice. Gone was the bravado and the wise-cracking, confrontational front Ste was accustomed to.
'But one thing this life has taught me that looking back doesn't do any good either.'
'Wherever I go and whatever I do, just feels like nothing changes, you know? New town, different people, same old flippin' story.'
Brendan's gentle 'hmph' confirmed that he knew the feeling.
'I mean, what's wrong with me?'
'Nothing Steven! Absolutely nothing.' It was like a shot of vigour had surged through Brendan as his voice became impassioned. 'Don't you ever say that, you hear?' The conviction of his words made Ste turn in surprise. 'You've got absolutely everything going for you. You have.'
'So why is it then, whenever I like someone, do I end up feeling so stupid and worthless?' He was looking back down at his hands again now, wringing his palms together.
Oh shit, thought Brendan. Please tell me he isn't about to cry.
'That Noah guy, who the hell is he, anyway? You're worth a hundred of him, you are. I promise you, Steven.'
Ste had turned to face him again, and Brendan could see how flushed his cheeks were in the moonlight: from the heat of the summer's night, from the rush of emotions, from the unexpected words Brendan was pressing home to him, words that Ste had craved for so long…
Before Brendan even knew what was happening, Ste had leaned in and closed the gap between them.
Brendan had felt himself being drawn into this man's world since the start, beyond the power of his usually unshakable self-control, since that very first night in that grotty male strip club. He had known straight away like a warning ringing through his brain that Ste was different, something special. He had known it when his face had appeared in his mind's eye and sent him into overload as he had touched himself. He had know it in the pit of his stomach when Steven had turned up as the rep on the night of that very first bar crawl. He couldn't let himself believe it, couldn't let himself be threatened by it, but now there was nowhere to hide, nothing he could do except surrender to how much he wanted this, to how much he wanted Steven…
At first the kiss they shared was warm and soft, a tentative touch yet filled with intent, a gentle opening for the heated rush that followed hotly behind.
Driven by desire, Brendan pushed Ste back into the sand so that the younger man was lying beneath him, pressing up hungrily into the pressure of Brendan's body and mouth as Brendan began trailing kisses along Ste's neck and earlobe, sending goosebumps pricking over his entire skin.
'Show me how much I'm worth,' Ste murmured huskily into Brendan's ear. In response he felt Brendan's body drive into him, pushing him harder into the sand, feeling the solid pressure already formed at Brendan's groin, the growing urgency of his intent.
Everything. You're worth everything. Had Brendan managed to get the words out? Or had he just thought them as he thrust his hips desperately against the young man beneath him.
'Come back to mine and I'll show you,' was what Brendan managed to get out instead, his tongue trailing breath against Ste's ear as the young man moaned and gripped his fingers into the sand beneath them.
This was perfect, Ste was perfect, better than Brendan could have imagined. The sweetness of Ste's breath from the drinks, the softness of his skin, his firm, tight body, the warm sand, lapping waves, stars shining somewhere distantly overhead…
Too perfect.
A loud throat-clearing from above them brought the two men back down to earth with bump.
'Why doesn't this surprise me. Should have known this was just another one of your games, Brendan Brady.' It was Noah, towering overhead.
Not now Noah, Brendan implored.
He pulled himself slightly away and took a deep breath, making up his mind whether it worth the hassle of completely detaching himself from Steven to stand up and confront this loser, or if he could get away with a quick quip about unwanted interruptions while remaining in the warm and dizzyingly responsive nook where he currently lay.
But in the end he didn't have to decide. Ste had rolled over and jumped up from underneath him, and was now squaring up to Noah, despite the sizeable difference in stature that was clearly visible from the position Brendan had eased into.
'Bit rich talking about games, coming from you, innit?' Ste was practically gnashing his teeth at the man.
Noah sighed and, unperturbed, looked down at Brendan, whose face was flitting between glaring at Noah and barely concealing his proud amusement at Ste's sudden resemblance to a pit bull.
'Do you want to tell him what's really going on, or shall I?' Noah held Brendan's eye, warning him in no uncertain terms that he had been found out.
'What do you mean what's really going on? You see cos this here ain't none of your business anymore Noah,' Ste spat.
'Is that right? Because I thought you might be interested to know how your knight in shining armour here paid that guy to come out with him tonight and how he paid him to try it on with me. So it might not be any of my business anymore, but just thought you might like to know before you swapped a cheat for a liar.' Noah didn't wait around to see his grenade go off.
Ste was gobsmacked. His mouth dropped open and he only managed a shake of his head before he turned in the opposite direction and stormed off.
'Steven! Steven! I never lied to ya. Wait! Just listen to me Steven!' Brendan knew it sounded pathetic and hollow as scrambled to his feet and shouted after the rapidly disappearing figure.
'Save it Brendan. I don't wanna hear it.' He barely turned to say the words over his shoulder and he certainly didn't slow down.
'Please Steven, just listen to me…'
'I'm so stupid. How could I have thought that you were any different to the rest of them. I nearly believed you. I nearly believed…' He paused. 'Never mind. Just do one, Brendan.'
They had reached the strip of bars and several bystanders had turned to look at the scene taking place. Brendan was left helpless as Ste slid expertly through the crowds and away from him.
So close. They had been so close.