The unexpected phone call from Vinnie had thrown Brendan off balance. He went over and over it in his mind, trying to work out the subtext. It wasn't unusual for Danny Houston to be at the club – he owned it after all – but what was that bit about him seeming to like Vincent? Brendan had an ill-defined sense that this was in some way ominous, but he could think of no use, rationally, that Houston would have for the boy, so he did his best to dismiss it. He made a conscious effort to hold on in his mind to Vinnie's words, the sound of his voice, but the things that kept rising to the surface were those which he didn't want to remember: the words "I love you, I really love you;" the sound of Vinnie crying.

Vinnie even came into his dreams. Brendan rarely remembered his dreams, but the ones he was having now haunted him when he woke up, and he couldn't shake them off. They followed a pattern, though the locations varied. Danny Houston would be there, either walking from the room or away in the distance, watching. Brendan would be having sex with Vinnie or kissing him, and then something would happen and the lad would be on the floor, looking up at him, terrified. There would be bruises, or blood. The third or fourth time he had the dream it wasn't Vinnie looking up at him, but Macca.

Brendan found out by trial and error that the more he drank, the less he dreamed; so by about the tenth night, the dreams stopped.

There was no contact between him and Macca. Brendan assumed that his anger had put the lad off, and it made him gloomy and irritable. Every time he left the house he imagined that Eileen must be sighing with relief.

Then on a Monday morning just over two weeks after he'd scared Macca away, Brendan's phone rang as Eileen left to walk the boys to school. Macca calling. Brendan answered cautiously.

"Hello."

"Fuck, that must be one hell of a mobile if you got it working again after that."

"I managed to salvage the SIM card," Brendan said dryly. "What do you want, Macca?"

"An apology would be a start, eh Brendan?"

Brendan considered his words before speaking. "You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn't personal, son."

Macca decided he would settle for that, and moved on. "Eileen's asked me round to yours for my tea tonight. Is that okay with you Bren?"

This was news to Brendan. "Yeah, yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Will you be there?"

"Yeah." There was no response. "Was there something else?"

He heard Macca clear his throat.

"I've got the day off work today, Brendan. I was wondering... Do you want to come over?"

Brendan felt a flood of heat to his groin. He swallowed.

"What time?"

"Soon as you like."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Brendan left the car at home. He had some business to do later which would probably entail drinking, and he never drank and drove, not since a crash when he was a kid. And he could use the walk to Macca's to sort his head out: today was turning out unexpectedly.

Macca lived in one of a number of one-bedroom flats above a row of shops. Brendan hadn't been there before and had had to look it up in Eileen's address book. He'd been too flustered to ask Macca on the phone.

Brendan Brady, flustered. Fuck.

There was no intercom, so when Brendan rang the bell he had to wait for Macca to come and open the door. He heard him run down the stairs.

"Come in Bren. Good to see you." He must have just got out of the shower; his hair was wet and his T-shirt clung to him where he'd dressed without getting dry. Brendan followed him up the stairs and along the corridor to his flat.

Macca had made the most of what little space there was in the cramped flat by keeping furniture and clutter to a minimum. He had moved there from his parents' house as soon as he was eighteen; his mum and dad had done their best to accept that their son was gay, but drew the line at letting him bring boys home. The rent was cheap enough, even on his wages, and it suited him fine.

The two men stood slightly awkwardly in the front room.

"Drink?" offered Macca. It was just gone half ten.

"Go on then." Brendan wondered if the new bottle of Jameson's, from which Macca poured two large measures, had been bought with him in mind. He took the glass. Macca went to the kitchen to put a splash of water in his own. He usually drank lager.

Brendan knocked back his whiskey in one, and helped himself to another. Macca had barely sipped his, but Brendan topped him up anyway, and laughed as the lad winced at the strength of the almost undiluted spirit when he took a mouthful.

"That's a man's drink, me boy. You'll get used to it." He watched, amused, as Macca made a point of downing the rest of his drink in one; then he stepped towards him, took the empty glass from Macca's hand, and put both glasses down on the side table. He stood over him, stroking his still-damp hair with his fingertips and breathing in his clean scent. His gaze slid from Macca's mouth to his eyes and back again.

"Now then, Macca. What did you have in mind?"

Briefly Macca hesitated, then he stretched up and put his arms round Brendan's neck. Brendan in turn wrapped his arms around the lad as they kissed, lifting him off the floor. When they came up for air he put him down and asked, "Where we going?"

Macca led him to the bedroom. There was a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a bedside cabinet; a double bed took up the rest of the room.

Macca went to the chest and reached to the back of one of the drawers for a pack of condoms, which he handed to Brendan. Brendan looked at the cabinet at the side of the bed, on the top of which, alongside some lube, were five or six condoms. Macca saw him looking.

"They're mine. I don't think they're your size to be honest, Bren." He paused. "And Matt might notice if any went missing."

A cloud crossed Brendan's face at the mention of Macca's boyfriend, but he reminded himself that this was one of the factors that would make Macca keep quiet, having something to lose himself.

Brendan took off his jacket and hung it on the door, then pulled Macca towards him with a finger in the neck of his T-shirt, and kissed him deeply. He dragged the T-shirt off over Macca's head, then stood back and said, "Get undressed." Macca did what he was told but his usual defiant look was more equivocal, and his hands fumbled, and his pale Irish skin looked even whiter. Brendan hadn't known whether to believe Macca's claim that he'd always been a 'top' and no-one had been inside him; but looking at him now, the apprehensiveness in his eyes, he thought it might be true.

He didn't want to make the same mistake with Macca as he'd made with Vinnie. The two boys were quite different: Brendan's first time with Vinnie had been Vinnie's first time with anyone, whereas Macca had been around the block. But this was new to Macca, what Brendan was wanting to do to him.

Brendan remembered taking his time, at first, to make Vinnie ready, but then becoming impatient and taking him too quickly and too hard. Vinnie had said afterwards that he was okay, but it took Brendan almost a month to persuade him back into his bed. The lad had got the hang of it after that, but still, Brendan felt ashamed at the memory.

He undressed apart from his jeans, which he kept on so that Macca would know he couldn't do anything without warning. He lay down facing him, and for a while they kissed; then Brendan told Macca to lie face down. Again, Macca did as he was told. Brendan began to kiss and lick at Macca's neck and shoulders, working his way down his body with a tenderness bewildering in so powerful a man. With his thumbs he parted Macca's buttocks, and slid his tongue between them, circling at first then penetrating him. He heard Macca's breathing becoming loud and erratic as he worked with his tongue, and had to hold him still as he squirmed and bucked and gripped the pillow, until Macca came with a cry. Brendan crawled up to lie full length on the lad's back, the weight of him making Macca gasp for breath. He bit lightly at the nape of Macca's neck.

Brendan got up.

"Turn over now."

Macca rolled onto his back, shifting a little to avoid the wet patch on the mattress. His face was flushed. Brendan pumped some lube onto his fingers and lay back down, propping himself up on one elbow. He slid his hand between Macca's legs, watching his face as he did it, and slid a finger inside him. After a little more caressing and cajoling and encouragement, he eased in a second finger and then a third. Brendan was sure now, from the tightness and resistance, that he really would be Macca's first. He kissed him as he worked, then breathed into his ear, "Is this okay?" Macca nodded. Brendan clambered over him then, and stood where Macca could watch him as he stripped off his jeans and boxers, and rolled a condom on.

"It fits!" said Brendan with a magician's gesture, making Macca laugh. "Clever boy."

Brendan told Macca to lift up his bum so he could slide a pillow under his hips, and he adjusted the angle until he was happy with it. Then he smoothed some lube onto his cock, knelt on the bed between Macca's legs, and began exploring him again with heavily lubricated fingers. He leaned forward and kissed the centre of Macca's chest and all the way up to his mouth, as Macca grasped at Brendan's hair.

"Are you ready?"

Macca nodded, "Yeah."

"Good lad." Brendan sat back and hooked his arms under Macca's legs. Macca slid them up to rest on Brendan's shoulders. Brendan eased the tip of his cock inside, and pushed further in each time Macca's muscle spasm subsided. His mind flashed back to Vinnie, and he wished he had been this patient with him.

When he was in as far as he could go, Brendan began slowly to thrust. Macca felt as if the inside of his pelvis had been reconfigured. His hole burned from being made to stay open, but the pain was nothing compared with the overwhelming rush he felt from having Brendan fully inside him. Macca's eyes were tightly shut, but when Brendan knew that they were both about to come, he said, "Look at me," and they were looking into each other's eyes as they came.

Brendan shrugged Macca's legs from his shoulders and collapsed on top of him, their hearts pounding against each other. Macca stroked Brendan's back and they lay for a few minutes, Brendan's cock still inside him. Then Brendan carefully pulled out, and went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and clean himself up.

Macca was still sprawled on his back when Brendan returned with a towel, which he used to dry the sweat from his lover's chest and the cum from his belly, and to wipe around his cock and between his legs.

"This'll need a wash," he said, dropping the towel on the floor, and they smiled stupidly at each other as Brendan got back into bed and pulled the cover over them both.

"Was that alright?" Brendan's question was genuine.

"Amazing. Fucking amazing, Bren."

"Good."

Macca nestled under Brendan's arm, and Brendan let him, just for today.