Alex led his boyfriend upstairs, he was moving forward, leaving the horrors from his past behind. This was the final step on his twelve point plan for getting over all his personal hang-ups.

Stood in the neat and tidy bedroom, his futon made up with fresh new bedding, tea lights flickering on the windowsill. "We've been dating for five months. I want this. I want you to move in with me. Everyone says penetrative sex is good, amazing and nothing to freak about. I've wanted you… like since our second date. I know we've done everything to lead up to this. I love you touching me. I know you prefer to top. Show me how good this can be. No condoms, we are both clean." Alex felt like this was his first time, because Rob was his first boyfriend. He was wiping away everything Brennan had done. Rape and sick games had nothing to do with this beautiful man who now shared his life.

Rob kissed him slowly, lingering to show his devotion. "This is going to be slow and wonderful. We can stop at anytime. Just say your safe word and I'll back off. Lets get comfortable on the bed. Take my clothes off, love. Unwrap me."

…..

Rob had grown up in Kingston, in south-west London; but he had not been home much this year. In fact it had been September the last time he'd been home for dinner. "Hi, Mum. I got your message and I'm coming back for Christmas, only…. I want to bring my boyfriend. We've been dating since Easter. Its serious. You know I moved to Bermondsey, well thats his place. We are living together." Robert bit his lip in anticipation, as his family had treated his coming out as if it was the same as his brief flirtation with vegetarianism.

"So, tell me about your mysterious boyfriend. Did you meet at University? Is he another doctoral student or one of your lecturers?" The woman knew her son did not socialise outside of his small circle of friends, working too hard to excel as he wanted his PhD finished on time for him to get a position as an industrial/organisational psychologist with some global corporation rather than go into practice in the NHS.

"Alex is twenty, so three years younger than me. I'm his first boyfriend. He works at the Coffee Palace on the South Bank. The manager Loony Dave is like his scary godfather. He decided against college, but I swear he's brighter than me. He reads and reads. Speaks French, German, Russian, Japanese and even Spanish better than me. He hates television, but is addicted to Radio 3 & 4."

"He sounds lovely, I'm sure we'll all love him to pieces." She could tell her son was sounding her out.

"He is not perfect, but I love him including his flaws, his emotional baggage and the fact he only tells me bits and pieces about his past. Heavy editing on his part because what he has said is horrific. He was neglected by his uncle, emotional and psychological abuse. He does not get happy families. He… he was badly abused as a teenager. He goes to group at the Crisis centre. We met when he volunteered to teach the Self defence class. He's a black belt in Karate. I did his background check. He was in foster care and a group home. I have met his last foster parents. No, he does not have a close relationship with them, but he is still friendly on his terms. Let me show him how our strange mix and match works. I have you, my wonderful mother; a great father figure in your husband, my step dad; my grumpy older brother ands kooky younger sister. We work, you are even still close with papa, despite everything. Alex… he is a complex guy. Do you want to come for dinner before the holidays? Actually I think that might be a good idea. See you guys on Sunday about 4. Don't worry I'm not cooking. Alex is learning and has not disappointed so far."

Esme Blanchard pondered on this and then asked "He's not a patient of yours then?"

"No, I don't do rape nor child abuse cases. My specialism is work stress and behavioural testing, not what Alex has had to survive. I only volunteer at the Centre to get hours on my CV, though I get helping out now. I have been such a blinkered career driven arsehole. I'm much more relaxed now."

"Yes, Nigel and I will come over this weekend and meet your lover."

…

James Sanchez was home for Christmas for the first time in three years. He was also very late. It was well after midnight, but his mother has texted telling him just to go to his room as his bed was made up. Even after all these years, he felt a bit of an outsider in this large detached villa on Kingston Hill, the house belonging to his mother's husband, Nigel.

As he unpacked his small bag he remembered arriving in this palace as a resentful ten year old, brought up in Spain and smarting from his parents violent break up and the six months spent living in the women's refuge in Dagenham. Nigel Blanchard was a consultant psychiatrist, who had welcomed his two step children into his home with his new wife. Rob had taken his step father's name after being adopted. James had refused that change, remaining aloof and insular. Even if he was no longer on speaking terms with his real father.

His mother had bluntly put a stop to his objections to her new husband with her speech about love. "My big man, I found happiness. You need to understand that you grab that when you find it. I love Nigel and that does not change the fact I love you and Robbie. I tried staying with papa, but that's over. The end. He made it crystal clear by his actions that it was over. He tried to beat you, honey. No more, never again. Your papa not only crossed the line he obliterated it. He has not once tried to attend his allowed supervised visits with you boys. He could see you every second weekend. You try to phoning him and get his answerphone. I know it sucks, but give Nigel a chance." Now his mother had given almost exactly the same speech about Rob's new fling. His brother's past boyfriends were embarrassingly bad. What would this new effeminate little ladyboy be like?

Like clockwork, James was awake at 5AM. He got up, pulled on clothes and went for a run. He returned through the back gate to see a tall, slim figure going through katas on the patio dressed in full hoodie and track suit trousers, face obscured by the angle. Maybe Rob's bit of fluff was not such a waste of space. The gruff soldier did not bother to introduce himself or make his presence known, he just went into the kitchen as his mother would be up.

"Morning, Jaime. I'm so jealous of Alex, what beautiful hair. He has not cut it in five years and its down to his waist. I wish I had thick, luscious blond hair like that."

From this angle the special forces soldier could see the plait hanging over the bloke's shoulder. Bloody hell, talk about taking needing a hair cut to the extreme. He almost laughed. "Sure, its natural?"

"Yes, I can tell its not a bottle job by the way his eyebrows and eyelashes match. I have suggested that your brother starts spoiling him, he needs nice clothes. He could be a model."

As James buttered his toast the interloper entered the kitchen and dramatically stopped.

"Well hello, Wolf. I take it your Robo's older brother; described as the career officer in the Army. Do they know you're a terrorism specialist with the SAS and occasional MI6 fuckwit?"

Wolf retorted with a sharp "That's classified Cub!"

"I stopped giving a rats arse about secrets and lies after Jack burnt to death. Where were you guys when I spent a year in hospital getting my leg rebuilt, well the Bank probably told you I grazed my knee considering they told you I had an appendicitis after Scorpia's bullet just missed my heart." Alex then looked at the shocked expression on Esme's face. "Thanks for inviting me, but I'm off home. I'll call Rob later. He likes to sleep in, so I won't wake him with the bad news that his brother is one of the reasons I'm in therapy. Don't look all innocent, Wolfie. Remember Brecon. I do in my nightmares."