Brendan loved his sons more than anything; he would die for them without hesitation.

Sometimes when he looked at them, he wondered how his own mother had ever thought that it was the right thing to do to bring him, as a child, from Dublin to a city where there were soldiers on the streets. He couldn't contemplate removing his boys from a place of safety to something like a war zone. Brendan rarely thought about his mother, but if he found himself doing so, he quickly repressed the memory.

By the time he was in his late teens, the peace process was well underway and the atmosphere in Belfast was changing for the better, but there was still a low-level hum of anxiety, a sense that you had to be alert. Segregation was unofficial, but real: there were pubs you couldn't go to, streets where it was unwise to linger.

The kind of minor crime that Brendan got involved in, wasn't the kind that got you shot. Brendan stayed below the radar, careful to avoid the sectarian alliances that were rife in the city's underworld. Coming from south of the border, he had no historical connection with the north – his stepmother and her family may as well have been strangers – so he observed the dying days of the Troubles with a kind of detachment, and from a basis of self-preservation.

Eileen had pursued him partly because he wasn't embroiled in the tribalism that ruled the lives of many young men; and partly because he was tall and handsome and, although only a few years older than her, he was a man not a boy. Brendan was flattered by her attention. He appreciated how pretty she was, and she was petite and a little shy, which made him feel protective of her. He decided to believe that these feelings of his equated to sexual attraction and, as he had never had a girl, and Eileen had never had a boy, they experimented together. She became pregnant right away; Brendan married her, thinking this would make his life normal.

From the start he felt trapped, not because marriage and fatherhood were coming to him so young – this was not so unusual among his contemporaries – but because any desire he'd felt for Eileen had already faded. He loved her: he was almost sure of that. But his sexual appetite lay elsewhere.

When their first baby, Niamh, died, Brendan felt it was a judgement upon him.

Eileen told him she would let him go if he wanted, as the reason for their marriage was no longer there. But in his grief, Brendan promised that she was what he wanted still. He tried to be a good husband, and pretty soon Declan came along and sealed the deal. By then though, Brendan was picking up men whenever he could get away to another city. By the time Padraig was conceived, Brendan and Eileen were rarely having sex; he reassured her that this happened to all couples with young children.

Whether he was smuggling duty-free cigarettes and alcohol in from the Republic, or bringing in drugs from the continent, or doing business in England, Brendan's trips away became more frequent as time went by. His casual sexual encounters filled him with self-loathing, and whenever he returned home he felt disgusted with Eileen for still wanting him to fuck her.

Things changed when he moved to Liverpool; he quit the random men whose names he didn't ask. He chose Vinnie carefully, finding out about him before making a move. Having established that the lad was malleable, wide-eyed and somewhat insecure, Brendan seduced him efficiently, making Vincent want him and want to please him in equal measure.

Brendan didn't hate himself as much with Vinnie as he had with the one-night stands, or rather, he projected his loathing onto Vinnie. Somehow Brendan blamed him for their being together, and for how much he needed Vinnie, and started to ill-treat him. And when Vinnie still came back to him, and things started to get emotional, Brendan began beating him.

Now, back in Belfast with Vinnie out of his life, Brendan's involvement with Macca, too, was becoming something he hadn't intended. When he'd moved back home he hadn't thought what he was going to do about sex, so he'd just gone on instinct when Macca had become a possibility. Secrecy was imperative, and Brendan had thought that two things would ensure Macca's compliance: first, that Macca knew he would lose his family if he blabbed about sleeping with his aunt's husband; and second, that he had a boyfriend whom he was scared of losing.

:::::::

Brendan had been sleeping with Macca for a few weeks, when he found he could no longer ignore one fact: he didn't want him to see Matt any more. He called Macca on the phone.

"I want you to get rid of Matthew."

"Matt? Why? I thought you wanted him to be with me. Like a cover story, you said." There was a pause. "Why, Bren?"

Because when I wake up in the night I wonder if he's in your bed.

"He gets in the way."

"That's not true," said Macca cautiously. "I've never turned you down. What's the real reason?"

Because the thought of you kissing him like you kiss me, twists my guts.

"I can't risk bringing home some disease, can I?" Brendan said brutally.

"That's out of order, Brendan. I'm not stupid, I've always been as careful as you."

Brendan took a breath and closed his eyes. "I'm not arguing about this, Macca. Him or me. Your decision."

He ended the call.

:::::::

A couple of days later, after Macca got home from work, Brendan went to see him.

"Have you done it?" Brendan's mouth was dry. He regretted his ultimatum.

"Done what?"

"Don't play the idiot, Macca. Have you dumped him?"

"Brendan, I did it weeks ago."

Brendan was wrong-footed. "Meaning?"

"That first day you came here, we fucked all morning, yeah? Then I came to your house for my tea, then I went off to see Matt, remember? That's when I told him."

"Told him what, exactly?"

Macca was frightened by Brendan's rising anger, but stood his ground. "Just that I couldn't be with him... Because I didn't wanna be with someone I didn't love."

Before Macca had finished his sentence, Brendan had slammed him against the wall and was gripping his jaw savagely.

"I won't be made a fool of, d'you hear me? Do you hear me?"

Macca felt Brendan's spit hitting his face. He nodded, and Brendan's hold on his face loosened.

"Nobody's making a fool of you, Brendan." Macca's voice was shaky. "I don't get what I've done wrong."

"You don't keep secrets from me. Ever."

Macca nodded again. Brendan was trying to control his rage. He put a hand on the back of Macca's head and bent to kiss him. Macca wasn't ready to forgive him for his behaviour and tried to pull away, but Brendan held him still and bit him, viciously, on his lower lip.

Macca shoved Brendan back and put a hand to his mouth to see if it was bleeding. It was.

"Jesus, Brendan, you're a fucking nutter."

Brendan stepped towards him again, trapping Macca by leaning with his hands on the wall either side of him. He went to Macca's mouth with his own. Macca kept turning away, but eventually gave in and stayed still for Brendan to do whatever it was he wanted to do. Brendan took Macca's face in his hands, gently this time, though Macca flinched. Again he took the lad's lip with his mouth, but this time he licked and sucked the blood away.

"Better?"

Macca nodded uncertainly.

Brendan turned and walked towards the bedroom, turning back to look at Macca, who had stayed put.

"I'm done fighting with you, son. Come on."

Macca followed him into the bedroom, but stood by the door, looking as if he might flee at any moment.

"Are you just gonna stand there? Come on, we're sorted aren't we?" Brendan held a hand out, and Macca gingerly came and took it. Brendan held his hand briefly then circled him with his arms and held him close, inhaling the smell of fresh sweat on him.

"Get undressed now, yeah?"

Macca did so, and got into bed. Brendan stripped quickly and climbed on top of him. He concentrated on Macca's chest and shoulders and neck, kissing and nibbling, now and again biting hard then licking where he'd bitten. When he felt Macca's cock stiffening against his own, Brendan sat up and put on a condom. Using a squeeze of lube, he quickly prepared Macca and entered him. He wasn't violent, as Macca had feared he would be, but he was rougher with him than he had ever been before.

As Brendan thrusted, Macca's fingers raked his back. The chain round Brendan's neck hung down, and Macca caught its cross in his mouth and felt the metal cold against his burning lip.

Brendan shifted his weight onto one arm, and with the other hand reached down and gave Macca's cock a few hard strokes; they came together. Macca's cries sounded more like pain than pleasure. Brendan's were guttural and atavistic.

They lay together for a while. Macca played with the hair on Brendan's chest.

"Brendan... You don't need to hurt me to keep me in line."

Brendan stroked Macca's swollen, bloodied lip gently with his thumb, and said nothing.