"You're still what?" Surely I misheard. The way Steven looks down at his lap, without immediately denying it worries me. The lawyer clears his throat, shuffling paper and trying to fade into the background. "Look I'll sort it." My hand clasps his arm more roughly than I intend it to as I excuse us and drag Steven from the room, all but throwing him into the deserted corridor and slamming the door shut violently behind us. I make a conscious effort to calm down, remove my hand and shove it in to my pocket before this situation gets any worse. If that's even possible.

"You told me you had sorted it, Steven. When were you gonna tell me, huh? That you were still married to that scrawny yank?" He looks at me with that beautiful, arrogant face, like he doesn't understand what the big deal is. "I thought you was alright with Doug now?"

"Yeah, before I knew you were still married to him!" Does he honestly think it's really Douglas that's bothering me. "We just never got around to it Bren!" I swat away the hands he places on my chest in a vain attempt to calm me down. I can barely look at him, let alone feel his touch. "Its expensive, innit, getting divorced? An' it never mattered 'til now! It's just a piece of paper!"

"Not to me it isn't! If you really believe that, why are we even bothering?! A marriage is a marriage, Steven, whether you love the person or not!" His eyes narrow and the atmosphere instantly thickens.

"What, like you and Eileen?" What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

"That's completely different!" This is about me and him and I can't see why he'd bring her into this.

"How?! How is that different?!" He doesn't understand at all, does he? I wonder if he ever has.

"Because Douglas still loves you! He'd take you back in a second! Is that why you never signed the divorce papers, Steven? Insurance in case I fucked it all up again!" It pains me to even entertain the thought. It's always been this unsaid worry between us, like we were both just waiting for me to ruin like I always do.

"Don't be ridiculous! I love you, not Doug!" The conviction in his voice is distracting and for a minute I almost forget how mad I am. All the rage I was feel temporarily fades away and I slump against the wall, staring at my feet. "Then why did you lie to me?" My voice sounds small, reminds me far too much of a time in my life I'd rather forget. "Oh yeah like you've never lied to me!" The insolent tone in his voice pulls all the anger bubbling back to the surface. "Not this time around! I thought things were gonna be different this time, Steven! I thought things had changed!" I don't know how to convey how empty I feel now that everything I believed in has been ripped away from me.

"They have!" He looks anxious, like he can only see this going one way and doesn't know how to stop it. "Yeah, because now it's you ruining everything, not me!"

He recoils like I've hit him, like this hurts worse than when I used to beat him up. I have to resist the urge to reach out to him, to comfort him, to take it back. I can't, not this time. "Bren, don't say that! It's not ruined. I'll get the divorce, okay?" Okay? Like it's all that simple. "Don't bother." I don't mean it but I can't think straight. How could he not tell me? How could he promise to marry me knowing that he couldn't? Not legally. Surely he knows how hard it was for me to do that? He knows that it's taken me this long to even accept that two men can be married. You can take the boy out of the church but…And now it's irrelevant because there ain't gonna be a wedding.

The toilet door bangs shut behind me and the sound vibrates through me, grating on my nerves. I kick it, venting everything I'm feeling at that stupid, inanimate object. When I don't think that the door could take another punch and my vision has returned to focus, I stagger over to the sink, hold on to it like my life depends on the cracked white china. My face is just as white and I feel just as broken. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see just how old I am. The water is ice cold as it splashes across my face but can't wash away the life time of anger and misery and bitterness that's carved into my sullen skin. A little voice in the back of my head tries to assure me that I'm overreacting. Of course he didn't want to tell me - look at how I've reacted. I was wrong, it's still me fucking him up, pushing him away. Fuck. What have I done?

"Brendan?" A timid, tearstained face appears around the door, followed by a cheap suit which looks so foreign on the body that I know better than my own. I turn to face him and we stand there in silence for a moment, both unsure of how to break the ice. "Look, I'm-" I don't want to hear anymore excuses so I shut him up the only way I know how. The kiss takes him so much by surprise that he slams back into the door with a thud. If it hurts he doesn't show it, just opens his lips deeper to allow my tongue to repeatedly collide with his. Nails drag down my back through my shirt and my dick stirs in response, surprised by the direction this meeting has taken. I'm suddenly aware that he has way too much product in his hair and the aftershave he's drowned himself in his overpowering. I hate that he got all dressed up to impress this lawyer, as if he thinks that he isn't good enough in his tracksuit and trainers.

The urge to prove to him exactly how good he is, takes over and the buttons on his shirt new shirt pop off as I rip them open clumsily and run my palm over his burning hot skin. He opens his mouth as if he's about to protest but I kiss him again before he gets the chance, a mesh of tongues and teeth and warmth. He's hard against my thigh now, but not enough. My tongue finds its way to his nipple, circles it and bite down, powerfully enough to draw a gasp of pleasure from his swollen lips. My moustache tickles and he loves it. I can almost see the heat between us, hazy and thick. Legs wrap around my waist and I lift him with ease, turn us round and stumble into a cubicle. It's too small but I could be in a aeroplane toilet right now and it wouldn't matter. His slim fingers undo my fly as I bite at his neck, determined to leave a mark which shows the world he's mine no matter who's name is on that fucking piece of paper. Roughly, I drag his trousers down, let them fall around his ankles and lean back to admire his swollen dick, raised impatiently waiting for me to do something about it. "Hurry Bren!" His breath is hot in my ear and it works. "I can't." I don't have anything on me, no condoms or lube but I don't know if I can resist. He arches his back, grinds our rock hard cocks together, forcing a distressed groan from my lips. He knows we can't, he just loves torturing me.

I settle for jerking him off instead, rub my hand along his shaft, squeezing the tip then licking the pre-cum from my finger. "Again." He moans and before I know it I'm pumping his dick faster and harder than I've ever done to myself. Feeling him hard and throbbing and hot for me makes me super aware that my own dick needs some attention. I reach up and guide his hand, break him out of his own little sex bubble and encourage him to repay the favour. Suddenly my mind is filled with nothing but heat and lust and my wrist hurts from moving so fast but I don't want to stop, don't think I could even if I wanted to. He bites my shoulder in an attempt to quieten himself but he's always been vocal and his curses and groans still echo through the empty bathroom. His legs tighten around my waist as he pumps harder, makes me forget where and who I am because nothing matters except this boy. "I'm gonna come." He pants, relaxes his grip as if to pull away. I know I'll regret it but I don't release him, want to feel him in my hands. I'm close too and I throw my head back in preparation of what's coming.

"Mr Brady?" I drop Steven quicker than I've ever moved in my life, step back so that no part of us is touching. Then I'm super aware that he's practically completely naked from the knees up, except for his shirt hanging open from his shoulders. I immediately return to stand in front of him, try to protect him from his humiliation. It scares me that I'm also feeling jealous that someone else has seen him like this. Now's not that time for my possessive shit. The lawyer stands there, mouth wide in shock, eyes widely taking in Steven's flushed, red cheeks, my red shirt covered in Steven's spunk, my raging hard-on that hasn't caught up with my head yet, Steven's trousers in a heap at his ankles. He looks like he wants to look anywhere but at us but for someone reason he can't. Like a car crash. "Sorry, I…I…I was just…sorry." He walks into the wall, unable to see with his eyes screwed shut and opens them only quickly enough to dart through the door in a flush of mortification. I turn to face Steven, who's covering his crotch with his hands. Bit late for that. I can't help but laugh at his face; mouth and eyes wide open like he can't believe that actually just happened. "It ain't funny!" He protests, snapping out of it, but the corners of his mouth are twitching into a smile. I bend forward to kiss him lightly, ruffling. his hair which refuses to budge with all the gel he's plastered in it. "Let's go home, Steven." Maybe we'll be okay after all.