A/N:

Thank you so much for everyone's awesome responses to the last two chapters we were very overwhelmed and so excited that you seem to like reading it as much as we like writing it!

And I just wanna say I (Mercurial) agree with 'Julie' I love the age gap too for all the reasons you said ;)

We really hope you continue to enjoy.

This is the start of Brendan's POV, we hope those of you who are waiting for a contrast find what you need – let us know :D

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Chapter Warning:

Starts with a good helping of smut.

Ends with some angst.

There's quite a bit of bad language too.

Chapter Three – Brendan Brady

"Don't have long," Steven says as he loses that school tie and pulls his tight white vest from his body, exposing my favourite afternoon treat. "Didn't say but got a babysitting job tonight and the boys will be back from school soon," he teases.

I smile. He pulls this laugh from me naturally, like things are just easy around him. The last time I laughed when it wasn't about him – you know I actually can't remember. Even if he's not there when something funny happens, I think about him, and whether he'd laugh… I wouldn't ever tell him that though.

"The Dad gets proper pissed if I'm late."

"Does he?" I play along as he moulds into my side.

I swear my mattress permanently has the dent his body causes when I'm inside him.

"Hmmm," he says as he wraps his legs around me, my cock sliding between his arse as we get into the usual positions.

"Does he not treat you well?"

"Oh don't get me wrong, if I've done well he'll give me a great big bonus." His sweet lips breathe those fucking dirty words and his fingers reach for my cock. "But if I'm bad he can… punish me."

I grip his wrists, pulling his hands above his head, dominating him in the way that makes him bite his lip as he shines in anticipation.

"You say that like you like being punished, Steven." I breathe.

And it's a stupid thing to say because I know don't I? That he's had some sort of past like mine. And I know his eyes are gonna darken like that.

But he's addicted to my body. And I know that cos of the amount of times he comes around after his exams – it's near on every day recently. So I'm aware that as I slide further against him, pressing my cock right against that hole, he will forget anything but the feel of me.

"I like the way he does it," he tells me, happy again.

"Is that so?" I say.

I know my voice is lower. It always is when he looks at me like that.

I lean further down to him, press a kiss against the skin just by his top lip. I feel his fingers flex against my hands and he lets me know he's desperate.

"Yeah," he moans like he can't talk and I know that will be all the sense I will get from him for a while so I kiss him.

The kiss? Well, course it's hard and hungry, and wide. I have him moaning in moments cos I know him now.

He's got pretty cute lips this lad. They're softer and plumper and sweeter than anyone else I've ever had. He likes it when I touch them, softly explore them with my fingers, I like to see that plump bottom one bounce. He likes it when I kiss him wide enough so I can taste all of him. And he fucking loves it when I come against them, that hot pink tongue laps up all of me.

He is seriously good at head. You've never really experienced pleasure unless you've had him, whatever that pleasure is. It's been a while however, as we normally just opt for fucking. But I know he likes it too. So I hook him around with my body, and lie underneath him so I'm flat on my back.

And then I give him his instructions.

"Suck me off, Steven."

He likes to be told you know? And he's always asking me to teach him things. He's pretty expert at most things, so the lessons I end up teaching him are about his own body - whatever pressure, wherever the pleasure and he soaks it all up. It's obvious he's never had sex like ours.

I look up at my mirrors and see his head bobbing down onto my cock. I stroke my hand through his soft light brown hair. He's gelled it today, he thinks it makes him look cool or something. I prefer it when it's natural and ruffled, like when we've been swimming. But he's still fucking hot. I love the way I look when I slip into those pulled taut lips.

He pulls away slowly, so I feel fucking massive as I leave his lips. And he looks up at me, catches my eye in the ceiling mirror, smirks like he knew I'd be watching. And then the cheeky fucker winks at me. I slap a hand against his arse and he moans, his eyes closing in pleasure, plainly still wrapped in last night.

God! Last night.

He runs his tongue gently along the base of my cock and my every muscle flexes tight into the bed sheet. He's got all these tricks that just rob me of everything and leave me moaning. He does them on days like today, when he's clearly far too able to concentrate. But sometimes I like him to just loose himself, to just suck me like he's not thinking, like all he is this sexy creature that I've trained to fulfil my every whim. And I want that today.

I grab the lube and pull him back up to me with a hand through his hair.

"Hey…get yourself off at the same time," I tell him and he beams cos the cheeky fucker loves this, finger fucking himself as his mouth fucks me.

He spreads the lube clumsily around three fingers and I know he's still not used it with anyone but me. I wish he'd stop hurting himself.

He pushes those three fingers straight into himself and he shifts uncomfortably.

"Two!" I order, and he loses one and he starts to smile a little bit, so I add, "gently, like I showed you, remember?" And he follows my every lesson.

He moans sweetly as his lips slide back around my cock, deep throating and I can tell he's really enjoying this.

"Yeah you like it like that, don't you? Soft and slow."

It's not long before he's actually keening and my cock is shallower in those lips cos all he is is instinct, and he can't focus on relaxing enough to get all of me in.

And as I watch him touch himself some more I see the exact moment he starts to loose thought. So I say to him, "it's OK stop sucking me, just bring yourself off."

And he moans like he's grateful, but he leaves his bottom lip around the very head of my cock. His eyes plead with mine and I know exactly what he's asking me to do. And sometimes I let him give me instruction too. So I grip myself tight in my fist and pump hard and his moan skitters all over my aching flesh. He comes first and something about the way he does it pushes me over the edge.

"Oh God Steven!"

He must be slightly back within himself when I finally come because he drinks from me.

I smile.

He says, "fuck!"

And then we're both laughing again, cos that's the way it is with us.

As he stretches out on his back, I lean over him. His lips are so soft, his golden skin shining in our sex-glow, eyes sparkle so wildly, my out of control boy. With my face tight into his neck, our breathing slows together.

I know he likes this - our bodies pressed close together in post-orgasmic wilderness. But I also know it still surprises him that I wanna be close to him afterward. It's nothing I've done, it's just all the people before me. I wish penitence to every one of them.

I lean up and look at him, stroke my fingers over his cheek, and he smiles at me. This smile that's wide and happy. He looks at me like I'm good and magnificent. No-one looks at me like that these days - no-one has for as long as I can remember.

And when he meets my mouth for soft slow closed-mouth kisses he looks at me like I mean something.

But he's just a fuck, I could end this anytime. And in this moment, as I lie pressed into him, I decide that I'll leave him tomorrow. Tonight, I will let him come back to me after he puts the kids to bed. But tomorrow I'll tell him to leave me, for good.

You know it's the only way.

Now though I have other thoughts, "round two?"

***K&M***

That was a month ago.

It's been a month since I last saw him. It lasted three months, this thing between us; which was exactly twelve weeks longer than it ever should have done.

I shouldn't have even had him that first night, a lad almost twenty years my junior. But when I came back buzzing from the Heist he was lying, cheeky as anything, naked in my pool and fuck he looked wonderful. Delectable. And then he kissed me and he just looked like he knew what he was doing, like he was so much older than his sixteen years. And the way he enjoyed it – the way he was in my bed, it was like he came alive there.

He got under my skin, buried into my head like he had a place there, and it was hard to get him out. I did though. You know. Only twelve weeks later than I should have.

He got this look when I told him to go, to just leave. That after everything I didn't want him anymore. I will always remember it - it looked like he forgot who I was. That he'd given up, not just on me but on himself. I sacked him too, to make things worse.

I'm on way to see Foxy at the loft. He reckons he's got a business proposal for me. Been in partnership a while, me and Foxy, but he's closing in on fifty now, and he's old with it you know? Doesn't do a lot of his own dirty work these days. Think he'd rather sit with page three, a beer, and a foot stall.

I just get outside when I see a push bike leant up against the bottom of the stairs. In an instant I recognise it as Steven's. What the hell is he doing here?! I can feel my fists clenching, squashing the ham and cheese Panini I was just devouring.

I'm just about to fly up the stairs when Steven opens the door mumbling something to whoever is inside. I can see the large packet he is carrying and instantly know what it is. Steven looks down at me and some of that anger inside me turns into….what? Concern? Knowing what Foxy is capable of. What he did. I shake the thought out my head and turn as Steven follows me.

"Brady, wait!"

"Why, are ye going to try and sell me something?!" I say, nodding towards the package in his hand which he quickly hides from view, inside his jacket.

He looks at me like I don't know what I'm talking about, and I realise he doesn't know who I am. He always came across like he knew I was dangerous, but I guess he never knew quite how much.

"What are you doing, messing with this sort, Steven?"

"Lost my job didn't I?" He speaks spitefully. "Had to make dough somehow."

"You do this because of me?" Oh God don't say he started this up just cos I sacked him.

"I've never done ought for you," he says so bitter.

Neither of us say anything more. He doesn't make a move away and neither do I.

I just look at him. I look at his face which at the moment is scrunched adorably up in annoyance. It feels longer than four weeks since I saw him. I can't stop looking at him like I've been deprived. I'm finally feeling something other than isolation, and I'm not going to step away.

Eventually his face softens.

"How are the boys?" he asks, a little shaky.

"They're good." He got close to them during those 3 months. Looked after them a lot. The boys love him too. "You know, Steven, they still talk about ye."

We're standing closer now, we always are, it's not like either of us move purposefully, it's more like distance is too great an obstacle. I can't stop looking at those lips.

"Do you want to go for a drink?" He asks, and against my better judgement I feel myself nodding.

"Yeah, come on."

I need to know how involved he is with Foxy. And how much he knows.

***K&M***

He takes a seat as I get the drinks in. He orders a whiskey, but I'm not gonna have the boy drinking under my watch, so I get him a coke. Yes, a coca cola.

I'm going to need this whiskey. I turn to look at him and he's as inviting as ever. Golden skin, hair falling on his face, fucking incredible eyelashes lining those pale blue eyes. You know sometimes when you see a face, or a car, or a really good suit and you just have to look at it, and touch it and you just need it in your life….yeah….

I sit opposite him with the drinks.

"Thanks."

"So, what are ye doing with the package Steven?"

"Don't waste anytime do ya?" He starts to resist, but one thing I do know about Steven Hay is that as soon as you open him up he starts talking like his life depends on it.

So I shrug and say, "You know me."

Remind him of our connection.

His eyes look down at the table, he swirls the coke glass between his hands, but then he just starts talking.

"I just sell some gear for Mr Fox to me mates and kids at school. Nothing major. Just to get money for the twins, like. But me stepdad, Terry nicked all me gear for himself. Selfish bastard. So now I owe Mr Fox. I lost him money and he's being dead good about it and said it was ok and I could pay him back you know when I can-"

Foxy doesn't do favours. He'll just be biding his time – working out the punishment, he's patient like that. Steven doesn't realise what he's getting involved in. I need to get him away from there. He can't get caught up in this. He doesn't know what Foxy has done.

I know - the same does apply to me. No, there are no real differences between Foxy and I when it comes to the things we're capable of… and things we've done. So I shouldn't be here with Steven either. But Foxy's worse isn't he? He don't feel the remorse I do, have done every day for twenty years.

We're scum and Steven well he's…. innocent. Yeah I know, not that innocent, can't be with his upbringing, but he's not the same as the likes of us. Foxy's the very worst of humanity and my path's forever alongside his. So I need to protect Steven, need to get him to stop messing about with this shit – it's not as easy as he thinks. But how can I stop him without letting him know what I'm involved with? Who I'm involved with. Who I am.

I don't wanna ever let him into the real me, that look in his eyes isn't something I'm willing to gamble.

In my fourth whiskey I hit a conclusion. Steven's not the sort that can deal with the business, but he needs money and I need…what?

I need to get him away from Foxy.

I need him to be under my protection.

I need him to let me keep him safe, even if he can't ever trust me.

I just need - him.

I tell him to move in and look after the boys full time.

No, he doesn't take me up on my offer - that would be an understatement. He looks at me like I offered him a life time of cleaning toilets with a toothbrush! His words say he can handle himself, he's stubborn that boy. He says he doesn't need another 'father figure' in his life. Jesus, I'm not that old.

He storms out and I don't call him for a couple of days, and he doesn't answer his phone when I do. I tell you it's times like these I remember he's just a kid. I don't see him for a good couple of weeks.

***K&M***

Now I'm on way to see Foxy again. Said he needs more gear for his minions to sell. I'm not involved in all that. I just organise our guys with the production. That's as far as my part goes. Get it produced and then it's Foxy's to do what he likes with.

No, I don't want anything to do with him but I'm trapped. Trapped in his life and there's no way out. I used to think there was, when Dec was small I used to think there was hope, like a white picket fence future, but I've woken up now. I know I will always be in debt to Foxy no matter what he does. And I do know what he's done, or at least I can't shake these suspicions of him.

I used to look up to him, when I was a kid. I thought he would always be there – he told me he would. I trusted him, but trust's a dirty word between men like us.

As I get to the club I spot it again, Steven's push bike. I told him to stay away! Why can't the boy just listen to me! I tell you, sometimes it's like I don't want what's best for him or something. I wait a while outside but he doesn't come out. I can't stand out here must longer, and Foxy's not answering his phone. So I don't have a choice. I'm going to have to go and risk Steven knowing what I'm involved in, it's not like it would matter when he's not talking to me anyway.

As I approach I get this feeling, you know like a sixth sense. You get a sense for danger when you move in the world I do. Only I don't feel like I'm in danger, more that someone close is.

I run up the stairs two steps at a time and fling the door open. There's no one inside but it looks like there's been a bit of a struggle. Broken glasses on the floor and a chair knocked over. My eyes dart around the room trying to see him.
"Foxy?!"

There's silence, this deadly knifing silence.

"Steven?!" My hearts in my lungs, he might not have been involved in the struggle I know, but I can't shake this feeling. "Steven!"

Then I hear that egotistical laugh and Foxy's leaning against the door frame of the office.

"Well, well Brendan. Didn't know you were familiar with my rat-boy."

"Where is he Warren?"

"Why, what is to you?"

My heart begins to thump in my chest and bile rises into the back of throat. I know what he did to Cameron, and if he's done the same to Steven, my Steven, I'll kill him I swear it.

But Foxy's also a threat to those close to me. He takes them away, the people I care about. He makes them disappear. So I try to stay expressionless and give him a version of the truth.

"He's my babysitter. He was late. I saw his push bike outside so thought I'd see if he was here"

"He might not be babysitting for a while," he laughs. That look I'm scared of is in his eye. "He lost some gear. A lot of gear and hasn't paid me back so I had to teach him a lesson, show him who's boss."

Something inside me aches.

"Please," I say, as an impulse. I dig my nails into my hands, I owe it to Steven to be tough. "Look, Warren just, tell me where he is"

I get him to give me the address. It's this empty run down flat he owns in the rough part of the village. I drive round for a bit until I find the address. I jump out the car and fly up the stairs to the 6th floor. I find the flat and press my ear against the door, listening. I can hear mumbled voices somewhere inside. Not too many though I think. I quietly try the door. Locked. Fuck! I knock gently and hear a voice getting closer.

"What?!" someone shouts through the door

"It's Brendan," I think on my feet. "Warren sent me… to take over," although what I'm 'taking over' I have no idea.

The door opens and a man, well over six foot, bald head, stocky peers at me round the door. He's doubtful but I quickly see some kind of recognition behind his eyes . Maybe he's seen me at the club. He moves like I own him anyway.

He lets me in and I walk through, and that's when I see Steven.

Steven.

He's sat on the floor. Head looks like it's too heavy and is leant back against the wall, his pupils are constricted and his eyes are surrounded by dark circles.

Oh God, Steven.

He has chapped lips and he's pale. So pale. That beautiful smooth golden skin has lost all it's colour. His breathing is slowed.

Oh God, Steven.

I look at his arms and see the small puncture mark on the crease of his left arm and a small trickle of dried blood.

Oh… God.