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Day Seven

Brendan couldn't help but notice how everything seemed so much easier after a good nights sleep. Last night had been a rarity – he hadn't even drunk that much on the bar crawl, and after his walk home, mind racked with memories of what had happened in that store cupboard, lips still tingling from the feel of Steven's kiss against him, he had dropped off into an easily peaceful sleep.

He woke up earlier that usual, smile on his face, morning glory that he wished he could see to, knowing full well who would be on his mind as he did so, but he could hear Eileen and the kids in the next room and managed to restrain himself.

He lay there for a few minutes, smirking with self-satisfaction at how easy it had been to get Steven where he wanted him last night. He was so pliable, so quick to forgive and so eager to be under Brendan's spell, despite himself.

The more he thought of the lad, the more he felt himself losing a grip on his mind, on his body. He tried to ignore the warning signs that whirred at the back of his mind, the one's that would have told him to hold back, to keep himself under control because he was already in further than he had ever let himself venture before.

With Macca and Vincent it had always been rough and desperate - no conversation, no longing looks across the bar where they had worked for him, nothing more than what was necessary. They had been convenient; allowed him to play his favourite game – Being The Boss – and they had fallen to his every demand. They had admired him from a distance, and he liked that, knowing they had been at his beck and call whenever he wanted them, whenever his body couldn't wait out any longer and he felt the urge to take from them. But all he ever did was take – he never gave anything in return. He took what he needed and left them hanging on a string, waiting for the next time they would get a chance to be close to him.

With Steven it felt different. He would deny it, tried desperately to push the thought to the back of his mind where it belonged, couldn't accept that what drew him towards Steven was more than just the need to fulfil some carnal desire; but deep down he knew it was different.

He wouldn't let himself think of Steven like that. Steven had to be like the others. He had to see him just as someone to fuck and run when the holiday was over. He couldn't be feeling this, whatever it was. He wasn't like Steven – he wasn't that way – so whatever it was that this nagging feeling in the back of his mind was trying to warn him about was ridiculous. How could he get too far involved when all it was to him was sex?

It must be the sunshine, playing havoc with his thoughts. This is how things were – he was straight, married, two boys to provide for; and he just happened to sleep with men every once in a while because he enjoyed the power he could wield over them. Nothing more. It couldn't be anything more.

He wasn't a man unless he had a wife and a family. He wasn't a man unless he could provide for them, look after them, protect them from harm. Letting his mind run away with itself, distracted with images of Steven, wasn't helping with any of that. He vowed that he would get his fill of Steven but then he would move on, wouldn't get attached and would leave him high and dry once he caught that flight back home.

Steven might want more from him, but he wouldn't give it him. That wasn't what Brendan Brady did.

He flung his legs out of the bed, desperately trying to ignore the knot in his gut that was warning him; the voice in his head that told him it was all bullshit – everything he thought he could do, the control he thought he had over all this – it was all a front. He refused to give in, to listen to himself, shrugging off his niggling doubt and throwing on a t-shirt, before sauntering out to his family.

"Blimey, you're up early," Eileen smiled as he appeared from the bedroom, stretching his arms upwards as he yawned, exposing a flash of torso above the waistband of his boxers that he saw Eileen glance at admiringly.

"Slept well, for once," he smiled back, walking up to her and placing a gentle kiss on her temple.

She seemed taken aback by it, couldn't remember the last time her husband had been this content, and she was immediately suspicious. She couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't her making him this way, that she hadn't done anything to make him happy, that there must be something else causing him to smile with such wild abandon.

She gritted her teeth as soon as the thought struck her.

"So, good time last night?" she asked, grimace plastered over her face.

"Ye, actually," Brendan replied after a taking a brief moment to think back to the kiss, "It was...interesting."

Eileen pretended she hadn't noticed that flicker of excitement pass over her husbands face, sure then that her suspicions must be right.

"Anne there, was she?" Eileen quipped.

"No," Brendan replied questioningly.

"So it was just you and Ste?" she pushed him again, waiting to catch him out.

"And a whole load of binge drinking tossers, ye."

"Wouldn't have thought that would be your thing, Brendan," she noted as she glanced over at him, trying to catch the guilt in his expression, "You hate the drinkers. Why'd you enjoy it so much?"

He tipped his head sideways as he considered this sudden change in his wife's behaviour, walking out onto the balcony after her as she took a couple of glasses of orange juice out for the boys. He didn't know why she had morphed back into Queen Bitch again, thought he would at least get a couple more days of bliss in the wake of their activities the other night, but now he was getting the distinct impression everything was returning back to normal.

"Ye know me, Eileen," he replied slowly, his tone considered and careful, "Sometimes I like to watch anarchy from the sidelines. Makes me feel good about myself."

She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, looked him dead in the eye and this was it – the war was back on. This subtle, bitter war that had raged between them for years; never acknowledged outright; never alluded to in anything other than their snide comments to one another, neither of them willing to take responsibility for being the one to address the problems of their marriage.

It had been this war that had led him to give in to his demons all those years ago – so worked up after this bitterness had come to a head one night and he had wanted to hurt her, wanted to screw up the world he lived in, thought fuck it to his repression, fuck it to holding in these urges, these feelings he had always had but never acknowledged. He had no inclination to hurt her through another woman – the thought didn't even cross his mind – but he had gone straight to the bar and found Vincent, dragged him into the office and found him so willing, as if he had been waiting for this, as if all those months of unresolved sexual tension between the pair of them was finally coming to a head in the heat of that moment. It had been the first time Brendan had been with a man, but he had known exactly what to do – exactly what his body needed in that moment. And afterwards, when Vinnie had lain under him, spent, saw, shocked into submission, he had tried to reach out to Brendan, to initiate another kiss, and he had paid the price, a smack in the ribs and a shove to the floor, a parting comment of you disgust me before Brendan walked away, the tension in his shoulders fizzing into nothing as if he had been released.

Every time the feud came to a head between him and Eileen he had found solace in his repressed desires, letting his frustrations out with Vinnie and then later down the line with Macca. It wasn't often – only when Eileen had wound him up to the point where he couldn't take it anymore – and it was always bittersweet. Sex and violence. Sex and violence. And he always blamed Eileen – blamed her for pushing him to that point, blamed her for being a woman so that he couldn't touch her, wouldn't hurt a woman, had to go and find a man to take his anger away.

The irony lay in the fact that Brendan told himself he only ever did it to hurt Eileen – reached out to this side of his life whenever she made life unbearable for him with her accusations and bitterness – and yet this was the one side of himself that Eileen never knew about.

He looked across at her now, their eyes locked over the table on the balcony where their boys sat eating their breakfast, oblivious. He raised his eyebrow at her, and she raised both of hers in a bold show of resilience.

"So, what bars did you go to?" she asked, all fake smile, fake perfect wife for the benefit of the kids.

"I don't know," Brendan replied cautiously, continuing to weigh up this sudden change in his wife's demeanour.

"You don't know?" she replied, her sweetness cracking as the doubt seeped through, "How can you not know?"

"I wasn't paying attention, darlin'," he smiled back, full of menace now, "Why ye bothered anyway, Eileen?"

"You telling me to believe you went on that bar crawl when you don't even know the name of the bars -"

"What d'ye mean, believe me, Eileen," Brendan bit back, voice raised now in exasperation, "What else would I 'ave been doing, huh?"

She didn't reply, the air between them more than a little sour now, thick with tension that Declan picked up on, stopping the inane chatter he was having with Paddy to draw his attention to his parents and their conversation.

Eileen noticed his distraction and smiled down at him.

"Where d'ye fancy today, kids?" she smiled, all her venom dissipated now for their benefit, "Beach or pool?"

"Beach!"

"Pool!"

They both answered at the same time, Eileen sighed and looked up to Brendan.

"I say pool, kids," he settled quickly, returning back inside the room and shutting the door behind him, blocking out the tension of the world out there before muttering to himself, "Can't be fucking arsed with sand in my toes as well as all this shit."

He knew deep down that wasn't the only reason behind his decision.

-s-

Ste awoke after a much less satisfied sleep – he had been out late sorting out the mess from the bar crawl, and besides that he had found himself struggling to sleep, his mind racked with questions about what the hell was going on with him. If he could get his head around the fact that Brendan fucking Brady was kissing him earlier on that evening, he would still have to deal with the fact that he was fast developing an unhealthy obsession with a married man. A married man that also happened to be one of their customers – another rule he would have to break from the company handbook.

Anne was quick to remind him of all this, of course – almost leaping up from the sofa to follow him around as soon as he left his room that morning.

"So," she asked as soon as he had stepped foot out of his bedroom, "You and Brady?"

"Morning Anne," Ste replied sarcastically.

"Please tell me nothing happened," she urged, voice full of concern.

"He didn't hit me again, no," Ste reassured her with a sigh, "So you can calm yourself down."

"And?" she continued.

"And what?" Ste snapped back, flitting her away like she was some fly trying to dip into his orange juice.

"Did he kiss you?" she asked, always so straight to the point.

"What? No...no course not," Ste lied, trying his best to come off genuine but it was no good. Anne could always see straight through him.

"Ste!" she shouted as she slapped his arm, "Do not lie to me about this. Did he kiss you?"

Ste ignored her question, made himself toast and coffee before sitting at the breakfast bar, all the while Anne standing, hand on hip, waiting for an answer.

"So what if he did?" Ste muttered eventually.

"So wh – seriously? You seriously asking that question Ste?" she reprimanded, no humour to her voice, just concern.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Ste bit back. He had had far too little sleep to be getting taught a lesson in morality right now.

"I just hope you know what you're doing, Ste," she replied calmly, "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"He won't hurt me, not again," Ste replied with conviction before adding, "He's not all bad, Anne. I trust him."

He didn't quite know why, but he did. He trusted Brendan not to hurt him again - had genuinely believed his apology the previous night. He didn't necessarily trust the world Brendan lived in, but he trusted Brendan, and that was enough for now.

Anne nodded back at him – if Ste trusted Brendan, then she could trust him too. She had to.

"You could get into trouble for this, though," she warned, "He's a customer, and he's married as well."

"I know," Ste nodded, "Makes it more exciting, though, doesn't it?"

She couldn't help but mirror his cheeky smile, kind of loved that reckless side to him, the one that she had always found so endearing despite it giving him the tendency to get himself into trouble.

"Steven Hay you are wicked sometimes," she whispered as she shook her head in mock disapproval, "you know that?"

Ste looked back at her with a look of pure satisfaction. He also loved this side to himself – the one that made him feel alive.

"Just be careful, though, Ste," Anne warned, "I don't want to see you get hurt. And make sure the wife never finds out, or you'll get sacked."

"Ah, don't be so dramatic," Ste grinned at her, "It's just a bit of fun, anyway."

He wasn't anywhere close to believing those last few words as they tumbled from his mouth. He wasn't sure he could walk away from the Irishman now if he tried.

He certainly didn't have any intention of trying just yet, though.

-s-

Brendan had never been one to sunbathe. He felt ridiculous sat there in his t-shirt and swimming shorts, hiding behind his sunglasses. They had been down on the sun loungers by the pool most of the morning now, and he had hardly spoken to Eileen since the atmosphere between them had shifted that morning. She was sat on the lounger next to him, head buried in a book, only glancing up occasionally to check the boys were still playing away happily in the pool with the friends they had made, Brendan sure Declan was using his Brady charm on the girls despite his tender age.

Brendan was getting restless now, he had already read the newspaper cover to cover and he was running out of things to entertain himself with. That was, until his anxious eyes cast themselves to one particular area around the left of the big pool, around 20 metres in front of him, where a particularly tired looking Steven was busy feigning excitement over a group of petulant toddlers.

Brendan tipped his head to the side, his expression softening as he watched him, a smile forming unconsciously over his lips. He was in his uniform – the turquoise cargo shorts which hung perfectly low on his hips, snug around his tight little arse, just above the knee so Brendan could see enough of his tanned legs, surprisingly hairy and masculine. The bright yellow polo shirt Brendan could do without, but he couldn't deny how it highlighted the golden colour of his skin, making him seem even more beautiful than Brendan thought would be possible.

There was a new addition to the uniform now, which was making Brendan smile. It was a rather tall, poorly designed triangular hat – made out of sugar paper by the looks of it, and covered in pictures of what looked suspiciously like Christmas trees, for no explicable reason. Brendan quickly surmised that Steven had been left in charge of the toddlers play group – around 7 of them were all there in matching t-shirts, looking up at Ste expectantly, pointing at him and laughing as he pranced around in the hat one of them had clearly made for him.

He noticed now that all the kids were sat around one big table, and they were all trying their hands at making something similar to what Ste wore begrudgingly on his head. They were loud – he could hear them from here – but he was doing his best to control them, and they looked happy enough. He seemed in control, and Brendan was sure an outsider would think Steven was loving it, but he knew him now, knew him better than any other tourist sat nearby, and there was something about the way he kept looking down at the ground that made Brendan sure he was hating it. It made him laugh with a heady mix of affection and pity.

It struck him how good Steven was at putting on this show - that he had everyone else fooled into thinking he was this vision of exuberance and happiness. He knew differently – had seen the pain hidden behind his eyes - and despite his reluctance to think about why he had seen that, he felt some kind of pride at being one of the few to see behind the façade.

He watched as another rep, a young girl that he couldn't admit to having seen before, walked over and seemed to take the reins from Steven. He smiled gratefully at her before waving goodbye to the kids and walking towards the poolside bar.

Brendan wasn't about to let that opportunity pass him by.

"Ye want a drink, Eileen?" he asked her coldly.

She barely glanced up from her book, a flick of the eyes that settled on him for less than a second before returning to the page.

"No," she said simply.

He huffed and shrugged his shoulders before standing up and pacing towards the bar.

Steven was stood hunched over the tiled mosaic surface of the pool bar as he approached him, his arms folded, elbows resting on the side and chin against his forearms. He was chatting away to Pedro behind the bar, Brendan catching the end of his sentence as he approached.

"...and I got back 'bout 4, so last thing I needed were to come in early to cover bloody kiddies playtime."

Pedro smiled at him then looked up to Brendan, "Yes, boss, what can I get you sir?"

Ste straightened up at the realisation a customer was present, but rolled his eyes when he realised it was just Brendan.

"I think I'll have one of your finest cocktails, please, anything with whiskey."

"Long Island Iced Tea?" Pedro asked him.

"Sounds perfect," he smiled back as the barman walked off to mix it for him.

He turned his head towards Steven, leaning one elbow against the bar and turning his attention fully onto the boy.

"Long night?"

"Yeah," Ste replied, trying to play down the smile that threatened to take over his face, "Bar crawl always is."

Brendan nodded towards the group of toddlers that Ste had been watching over.

"Bit different to last night, ain't it?"

Ste followed his gaze and laughed, "Well, actually, if you take away the alcohol, it's not that much different really."

Brendan laughed, surprising even himself. Was there nothing this lad couldn't do? He just made Brendan Brady laugh.

"Ye sort that fight out?" he asked, trying not to appear too dumbstruck.

"Oh, yeah," Ste replied lightly, "Nothin' I'm not used to on the bar crawls. Last night was pretty tame really."

Brendan flashed a suggestive smile Steven's way.

"Huh – tame?" he smirked at him knowingly, "Is that what you'd call it?"

Ste caught his drift right away, felt his cheeks burning up as he cast his eyes down in embarrassment, then lifted them again to lock back into the Irishman's gaze.

"Some parts were more excitin' than others," he teased, couldn't quite believe he'd managed to get it out sounding so composed.

"Oh ye -"

"One Long Island Iced Tea, boss," Pedro interrupted as he served up Brendan's drink.

Brendan wanted to curse him for cutting their little tête-à-tête short.

"Room 2 0 -"

"Put it on the staff account, Pedro," Ste butted in, smiling back at Brendan, "To say thanks for keepin' me occupied last night," he added with a wink.

"No problem Ste," Pedro nodded.

Ste turned back to Brendan with a smile, which quickly turned itself into a grimace when Ste caught sight of Eileen marching purposefully towards them.

"Thanks," Brendan smiled, unaware of his wife's approach, "You'll have to let m -"

"Hi, Ste," Eileen cut him off as she came to a rest infront of the two of them, "So, how was last night then?"

Ste glanced over to Brendan with hesitation, saw the rage settling over him and knew something was amiss.

"Yeah, it was great thanks," Ste replied to Eileen, feeling as if he was being interrogated for some crime he didn't commit, "Those bar crawls are a nightmare but thanks to this guy I got through it," he joked nervously as he nodded towards Brendan.

"So he was there then?" Eileen replied, words dripping with ice. Ste knew he was missing something, but he wasn't about to get himself involved in it.

"Yeah, not much of a dancer though, is he?" he replied as lightly as he could muster, trying to pretend he hadn't noticed the atmosphere having turned sub-zero since her arrival.

"So, did he behave himself?" she asked, her intentions now completely obvious.

"Eileen, will ye -" Brendan started, voice raised, but Ste jumped in and stopped him making matters worse.

"He was on his best behaviour, Eileen," he smiled sweetly, relieved to see her face soften slightly, "He was with me all night. You can see all the pictures on the Facebook group if you like?"

She seemed to relax at that offer - seemed to trust Ste enough to take his word for it. She couldn't have known that it was Ste she should be most concerned about.

"Ste, Anne needs you in reception," Pedro butted in, but Ste found himself thankful for the get out, wishing he could offer Brendan a similar one for the sake of his sanity.

"I'll see you guys later, yeah?" Ste said as he turned to walk away, eyes darting between the two of them.

"Bye, Ste," Eileen called after him before marching off.

"Thanks for the drink," Brendan shouted.

"Anytime," Ste replied, turning back to face him and giving him the thumbs up with both hands.

When he turned to walk on he cursed himself under his breath. Who does a double thumbs up these days? So not smooth, he thought to himself.

-s-

Brendan spent the rest of the day sitting out in the sun, lying back and letting himself relax with thoughts of Steven passing through his mind. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, but there was something about spending time with that lad that just made his mind cloud over, like nothing else mattered but the way his heart started racing, and the smile wouldn't leave his face. He felt like a fucking teenager, it was pathetic. But for some reason, he couldn't find it in him to care, or to stop himself from smiling.

He woke up from a doze, checked his phone and saw it was approaching 4pm. He looked across to Eileen reading 50 Shades of Grey beside him, laughed inwardly thinking no-fucking-chance, told her he was heading back to the room and headed for Reception.

Just as he thought, Steven was sitting there at his desk, dealing with a middle aged couple who seemed to be complaining about something. He watched as the lad nodded away, pretending to share their concerns and look interested, knowing full well Steven couldn't give a shit what they were moaning about. He glanced across at Brendan as he approached the desk and tried desperately to keep the smirk off his face, much to Brendan's amusement.

Brendan got to the desk, didn't say a word, just picked up Steven's phone as it lay on the desk beside him, unlocked the screen, saved his own mobile number under a new contact he named "Your New Favourite Person", then returned the phone to the desk. He winked at Ste as he glared up at him with awe, and walked away.

-s-

It was another agonising 25 minutes until he could get rid of the complaining couple sat before him, who couldn't seem to shut up about their linen only being changed every other day when they'd paid for four star service, and he eventually got rid of them with a promise to make sure the maids knew to change theirs every single day for the rest of the holiday and a free trip on the sunset cruise that night. They seemed satisfied enough with that, finally leaving him alone, and Ste waited until they were just out of view before grabbing his phone and hurriedly searching through it, unable to keep the smile off his face as he frantically flicked through to find out what the Irishman had been up to.

He was sure he saw him typing a number in, so he went straight to his contacts, but found nothing under B. He went to his recently called list, but the last call was from Anne two hours ago, and nothing since. He felt his good mood waning, going into his texts as a last resort, but again there was nothing. He checked his notes, his emails, his calendar – everything - but couldn't find a sign of the Irishman anywhere.

As a last resort he went into his contacts again and scrolled through – saw numbers for school friends, old girl friends, people he hadn't spoken to in years, no idea why he still had their number. He went past the numbers he wished he'd never learnt, reminders of a past he wanted to forget about, but couldn't bring himself to delete incase he needed them one day. He was almost at the end when he saw it, the new addition to his contacts, right at the bottom of the list.

He smirked on one side of his mouth, laughed to himself, half at the arrogance of the name he had saved himself under, and half through excitement about what this meant. He quickly gathered up his paperwork and moved it to his office, his mind racing with thoughts about what he would say to Brendan, how his first text would read, how he needed to make the first move because Brendan didn't have his number yet – the perfect reason to text him. He locked up the office and made his way back to the flat, eyes fixed onto his phone as he typed out then deleted text after text, trying to find the right words.

He supposed at least his indecision was making him seem less desperate, elongating the time it took to get the message sent.

Hi its Ste. This is my numba.

Too serious – delete.

Arrogant fucker.

Too rude for a first text – delete.

Fancy a drink?

Too forward – delete.

Wot u up to?

Boring – delete.

Who says I wanted ur numba?

Too defensive.

Who says I wanted ur numba? ;)

Hm. Yeah – that'd do.

X or no X?

He couldn't decide. He always put at least one on his texts, even to male friends. But he thought it might come across a bit desperate.

Maybe he would save that for further down the line.

His thumb wavered over the send button, unsure of himself. He was standing outside his front door now like a lemon, realised how pathetic he was being and took a deep breath, looked away from the screen, and winced as he tapped his thumb down over the send button.

He let himself into the flat, noticed he was home alone and went to make himself a coffee. He kept hold of his phone, clicking the button every 3 seconds to see if a response had come through.

Two minutes later he felt it buzz, his heart leaping into his throat as he saw the response.

You did.

He swallowed down hard.

Wen?

He replied straightaway, then chastised himself for being so eager.

He needn't have worried, Brendan's reply came through just as quickly.

When you looked at me like that across the pool today.

Ste let out a little squeal. Brendan was flirting with him. Brendan Brady was flirting with him through text message. There was only one thing for it - flirt back.

From wot I rememba u wasn't complainin much ;)

It buzzed seconds later.

Damn right.

You free later?

Double text?! Brendan was double texting.

Wot 4?

As he pressed send his heart sunk. He was working tonight - was in charge of the sunset cruise, despite his constant reluctance to do it with his seasickness.

Drink? I owe you one.

Came Brendan's reply. He was going to have to turn him down, against all his bodily instincts.

Soz, forgot I gota run the sunset cruise tonite. 2Moro?

The text back wasn't as instant as the others had been. Ste hoped it was through disappointment.

What time are you back?

Blimey, he was keen.

Its a late 1 – not back til gone midnite.

The response was delayed again.

OK, see you tomorrow.

Ste could almost hear Brendan's disappointment coming out of the phone, wished more than anything he could change his shift tonight but knew Anne was performing and there was no-one else stupid enough to take evening work off him.

Damn right

He replied, echoing Brendan's words from earlier. He waited for another reply, but nothing came.

All night he kept checking his phone, knowing deep down that their text conversation had ended but hoping foolishly that Brendan would be missing him enough to send another cheeky one through. He forgot to remind himself that not everybody was as desperate as he was – some people had more self control.

He was on the sunset cruise that night, always full of sickly sweet couples, old and young, which usually sent him over the edge of jealousy and made him feel queasy, made worse with the seasickness. But tonight, he didn't feel so bitter about it. And he knew exactly why.

It didn't make the cruise any more interesting, of course. The sales spiel for the excursion enticed people in with stories of dolphins riding past as the sun set, but in reality Ste had been on about 50 of these cruises over the course of the season and he had only ever seen dolphins twice. Sure enough, there weren't any about tonight, and after giving the welcome chat he went to sit in the cabin alone, flashing his phone screen on every five seconds, reading back through their texts from earlier in the night.

Brendan was definitely into him, and he wasn't going to start denying he felt himself come apart whenever he was near the Irishman. He wasn't the conventional type Ste had seen himself going for – he had always found himself fancying lads similar to himself – but if he wasn't honest he didn't see himself having a type, and he still wasn't completely sure how to go about his life as a gay man.

When Brendan was around, he couldn't deny the shiver than ran down his spine, the warmth coursing through his stomach. He came alive at his kiss, the most intense rush of emotions he had ever experienced, and if he had ever been in doubt about his sexuality it had been confirmed to him in that moment on the beach, and again in the store cupboard last night.

Even after the way Brendan had reacted on the beach that night, and even knowing the rumours about "the gangster" Brendan Brady and what he had done - that he was bad news - he couldn't help but see the good in him. He was a good man – could see it in the way he looked after his children; the way he stood by his family. He could see it when he recognised in Brendan's eyes what Ste had been fighting with for so long himself – the reluctance to accept himself. To see himself as a gay man, and to have the strength to come out and tell the world about it.

Brendan wasn't there yet. He may have been older, but Ste got the distinct impression that when it came to that subject, Brendan had a hell of a lot more demons to fight that Ste had ever had, and he understood why he might need to tread on eggshells around the Irishman for a while.

He shook the thought from his mind, anyway – why was he getting so caught up in it? The guy would be on a flight back home in just over a week and Ste would probably never see him again. Then he would be back to missing his kids and fighting with Amy, something he was grateful to Brendan for distracting him from over the past couple of days. He was just some holiday fling - he knew that.

So why was it starting to feel like so much more?

When they returned back at the hotel just after 12.30, Ste was well and truly exhausted; knew he looked like shit and couldn't wait to fold himself up in his duvet and drop off to sleep. It had been a long day, especially after a late one last night, but at least none of the staff he knew were working this late and couldn't see him looking this terrible.

He had just waved off the coach driver and ushered the cruise group back into the hotel when he caught sight of a familiar head of hair over on one of the sofa's in the lobby area, focusing his weary gaze over in his direction and grinning as he made out the distinctive 'tache. Typical for him to be here when he looked like death, exhausted from a busy few days. Brendan picked up his glass of whiskey and the second glass that sat next to it, and walked over to Ste as he stood next to the reception desk.

"I thought you said you'd see me tomorrow?" Ste questioned him playfully as he got closer.

Brendan looked at his watch then back at Steven.

"It is tomorrow," he replied smugly.

Ste bit down on his bottom lip to suppress the out-of-control smile that was about to spread over the whole of his face, urging himself to play it cool.

"Well, you're eager," he teased back as he took the glass Brendan offered to him.

"Sláinte," Brendan said as he held his glass up to clink with Ste's.

Ste had no idea what he had just said, but he got the gesture so he clinked glasses and mumbled out a "Cheers" in response.

His eyes locked on Brendan's as they both took back their drink, swallowing hard, and Brendan was transfixed with watching him, noticing the bob of his adams apple and the grimace at the bitterness of it that Ste tried desperately to hide from him.

He stepped towards him, then took a quick glance around the reception area. He felt careless with the amount of alcohol he had consumed throughout the night – to block away out the sound of Eileen in his ear and to help pass the time until he could be here with Steven – but he needed to double check they were alone. It was eerie, to be stood in this expansive room alone, a room that was so busy with life throughout the day, and yet was so quiet and still right now. It was just him and Steven, and for a few glorious seconds it felt as if nothing else in the world mattered. He stepped forwards, could feel the heat from the lads body as it radiated from him, mere centimetres away from him; could feel the warmth of his breath against his face; swore he could hear the lads heartbeat from where he was standing, although it could well have been his own.

He glanced around them again – still alone – and he leant in to place a gentle kiss against his pouting lips. Sensation rushed through him, his mouth watering as light and life flooded through his veins. He leant in and kissed him again, eyes open, watching as Steven's pupils blew wide with desire. He wasn't sure he had ever experienced anything so intimate before in his life.

He was about to go in again, was already lifting his hand to pull at the back of the lads head, bring him as close to himself as he could, but the sound of the hotel doors sliding open and a giggling group of girls tumbling through tipsily reminded him how exposed they were there.

"Anywhere we can go?" Brendan whispered as he leant into Ste's ear.

Ste was breathless, couldn't muster up control of himself enough to speak in that moment, just slid out of Brendan's hold and walked towards the office. He unlocked the door quickly, looked back to Brendan and beckoned him in with that look in his eyes.

Brendan glanced around the lobby area once more, grinned wickedly and followed Ste into the office.

As soon as the door closed Ste was up against him, bodies touching, chest to chest, lips meeting frantically, teeth almost clashing, tongues finding each other and connecting with a rough sense of passion and need and carnal desire. Ste's hands were on his face, fingers reaching around his neck and Brendan lifted his own hands to the back of his head, pulling him in, needing him closer, closer still, although no air seemed to separate them in that moment.

It was heated, and he could feel the effect he was having over Steven; could feel it pushing against his inner thigh below where their groins were flush together, the thought of it stirring the sensation in his loins and making him even more desperate for the boy.

His mind was cloudy with the whiskey, and with something else he couldn't quite recognise but which he knew had been present that night on the beach, and last night in the bar. It made him reckless, made him leave the rest of the world behind him, all that was important being the body pressing against him right now.

He pushed back against Steven, got his arms around his waist and lifted him slightly, pushing him backwards, away from the wall now until his legs hit the back of the desk; heard the almost yelp as he breathed it into his mouth, the sound almost completely absorbed into their kiss, the frantic push and slide of their tongues, dancing together as if they both knew the moves off by heart. He lifted Steven again, the lad taking the hint and resting his arse against the desk, sitting down slightly before bringing his thighs up, wrapping them around Brendan and locking his ankles behind him, their bodies still flush against one another and the new angle bringing their hardened cocks agonisingly close; the sensation of this intimacy sending a shiver up Ste's spine.

Ste felt wild with reckless abandon - forgot about everything outside of these four walls, reaching down on instinct and working the buttons of Brendans shirt, quick and frantic as he opened them up one by one, needing to feel that skin on skin, wanting to taste the sweat on his chest caused by their passion. He slid the shirt off his shoulders as Brendan grabbed at the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head, the kiss breaking apart for the first time and they both felt the loss, the absence of each others heat in that short second, making them desperate to reconnect as soon as they could.

Ste revelled in the warmth of Brendan's chest as his skin connected with his own, the heat and intimacy of it making his mind heady with excitement. He ran his fingers gently down Brendan's back, felt the ripple of the muscles in his back working away as his arms explored his own skin, both of them learning each other, needing to know each other more than they had ever needed it before.

Brendan pulled away from his mouth and he moaned after him, turning back into satisfaction when he felt his lips against his neck, sucking and biting gently at the sensitive line from his ear downwards, his whole body igniting with goosebumps at the sensation as he whispered out a fuck-sake and an oh-my-god-yes instinctively.

Brendan purred as Steven spoke, approval of his words of encouragement, telling him he liked it, liked what the older man was doing to him, wanted more from him, and Brendan responded to it. He slipped his hand in between them, fingers tracing down Steven's chest and over his abs, tickling at his treasure trail and down to the waistband of his shorts.

He pulled away from his neck, rested his forehead against Steven's and looked into his eyes - a question of consent; was he alright with this? Steven hesitated, knew it was a question of trust, and he urged forwards, kissing at Brendan's mouth hungrily, signalling as clear as anything that he wanted this. He needed this.

Brendan unbuttoned his shorts and slipped his hand in, reaching for the length of him, grasping his hand around him, swallowing Steven's moans inside his mouth, feeling his shoulders drop as he basked in the sensation of it.

He slid his hand gently down his cock, smooth as velvet, solid as a rock, bigger than Brendan was expecting given the size of the boy, and he smiled as Steven's body continued to writhe with pleasure.

He worked him expertly - slow at first, letting his thumb graze over the slit each time his hand worked upwards, and squeezing in slightly when he neared the base. He quickened his pace, faster with each stroke, until Steven couldn't kiss him any longer and pulled away to allow himself to breathe. His moans increased in volume as his back started to arch, his mouth filthy as fuck as it begged him, Brendan-yes-oh-fuck-yes-please and Brendan fucking loved it, had never been with anyone so vocal and it ignited something inside of him, wanting more of the boy, wanting to work his hand harder and faster to hear more of those words tumbling from him with wild abandon.

He felt the pre-come leaking from his slit, used his thumb to rub it around, thought about leaning down and drinking it in, tasting the boy but to do so he would have to fight his way out of the grip Steven had around his neck, and he would have to pull his eyes away from Steven's beautiful face, and he wanted to watch, wanted to see him come undone, wanted to kiss him through his orgasm.

Steven's hips starting rocking, and he sensed the boy was near to the edge. He ignored the ache that was starting in his arm, nothing mattered now but the boy before him, and he stripped his cock down roughly now, desperately, until his screams exploded around him, his dick throbbing as the white heat pulsed out of him, his shoulders dropping, forehead resting back against Brendan's as he leant in and kissed him, languidly, needily, then pulled away and moved closer, the need to embrace the boy taking over him. He stood between his legs and pulled him into his chest, the boys body limp and spent from his own doing, held him close as they both caught their breath, both brought themselves down from that moment of intensity, both in awe of the moment they had just shared. Their chests close together, Steven's come against his stomach, mixing with their sweat and making them both dirty, but neither of them cared – neither of them had the strength to care. In that moment, for several seconds, nothing fucking mattered but the two of them.

After a few minutes he felt Steven's breath return to normal, and sensed an oncoming question when his body tensed up slightly against him.

"Does Eileen know?" Ste asked innocently.

Brendan frowned – why the fuck was he thinking of Eileen now?

"Know what?" he replied quietly into Steven's hair as his head lay against his chest.

"That you're gay."

Brendan laughed defensively and pulled himself away from the lad.

"I'm not gay."

Ste stopped and looked up at him in utter confusion. He was sure what they been doing seconds earlier was really quite gay. He half thought the Irishman was joking, but when he looked up at him he saw that rage again, that guarded expression, his eyes closed off - not open and inviting like they had been moments before.

"Don't go getting ahead of yourself, Steven," Brendan sneered down at him before pulling his body away from him completely, the cold air hitting him instantly; "I'm not like you."

Ste was totally taken aback at the way he said it, such hate and venom in his voice, and he watched as he picked up his shirt and flung it back over his shoulders, buttoning up quicker than Ste had been able to get it off him earlier. He couldn't look at him, was avoiding Steven's glare as if to look him in the eye in that second would be to surrender; would force him to break down those walls that he had built in the last thirty seconds and fall under the spell once again.

If he had looked he would have seen the hurt in Steven's eyes – the confusion, yes - but the hurt also; that the rejection was coming so soon after the intensity of what they had just shared. It may have been the first time Ste had been near a man, but he was sure it was bigger than usual – that what they had shared minutes earlier was different to how it usually would be. More important, somehow.

Once Brendan was dressed he stopped, stood halfway between Steven and the door, awkward in his own skin, head dipped and eyes fixed to the ground. He moved his lips as if he was about to speak, as if he knew something needed to be said, something he wanted to say, but he closed his mouth again, unable to let the words out.

He wanted so desperately to give Steven something in that moment – something to let him know that it had meant something, it had affected him. But to tell him that would be to admit something to himself that he was nowhere near ready for. He could see his eyes tracing over him as he sat still against the desk, chest shining with the after effects of what Brendan had done to him, his first sexual encounter with another man, and now he was going to leave him, leave him sitting there in this state as he fled.

He wanted to be someone else in that moment – to be the kind of person that could fuck the world and be who Steven needed right now, someone who could hold him and make it all perfect, take away his vulnerability and give him hope of something more.

But he couldn't be that person – he had never been that person. He wasn't gentle – wasn't strong enough to be gentle with him now – he had never been in this place before. He had never cared enough before, never noticed the look on their face afterwards, never wanted to see what he had done to them, only ever thought of himself and what he needed. But right now, for the first time, he wanted to be the kind of person that could take Steven in his arms and tell him what he wanted to hear.

But he couldn't.

So he turned and he left the office, and he walked back to his room where his wife was waiting for him.

And the image of Steven as he left him sitting there in the office haunted him as he slept that night.

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