Chapter 10

"Our flight back is tomorrow," Brendan said, digging into a bowl full of paella, "Morning. Tomorrow morning."

He had booked a table at an out of the way, local, restaurant when Doug had been having his episode. During their dinner so far, Brendan had not paid much attention to his company as he was still in a gloomy mood. Informing him that their journey the next day were the first words that either of them had spoken to each other during the whole evening.

Doug nodded in response. He had very little appetite. Continuously his mind raced over the events of the previous night and that morning. Over and over again he replayed Brendan fucking him and he could not bring himself to believe that it had happened, despite being able to still feel the evidence. Then his mind went back to what had happened that morning, the way Brendan had almost forced him to perform that certain deed.

However, it had been when Doug had been in the shower (that ghastly hot, that incinerating the skin kind of hot) that he realised that he had not been forced. Not really. He had willingly submitted into doing everything that Brendan had asked. He had let himself be fucked and fingered, and in return his subconscious had thought that it was only right for him to give back some of the pleasure.

He had come to terms with the fact that what had happened was, for all he knew, with consent of them both. And although he hated himself for admitting to this, he hated even more the fact that he had enjoyed every second that Brendan had been inside of him- the same could not be said about the oral sex, but that no longer really mattered to him. What mattered now to Doug was to try to come to terms with the longing that he now had for Brendan to perform similar actions again. And that this was currently the main cause for his self-loathing.

"Douglas," Brendan said, trying to probe a response out of the younger man as he looked up at him, "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, sure," Doug replied, rushed, his brain coming back to the reality of where he was and what he was doing.

Brendan watched on as Doug picked up his fork and started to rapidly pile up the paella into his own bowel and wolf it down in a matter of seconds.

"Wow, easy there, tiger," he said, taking hold of Doug's hand to stop him putting another mouthful of rice into his already full mouth, "Watcha eating so fast for? Want to build up your strength for somethin'?"

As he spoke these last words, he lowered Doug's arm and then ran his fingers along the skin. It was red and slightly burnt but not, Brendan knew, from the sun. His hand was not met by the protest he had expected either. Instead, Doug swallowed his food and returned his gaze. There was something in the young man's eyes, which could only be seen if studied closely, which told him that there was the possibility that they may have to leave the restaurant soon, and fast.

"There is?" Brendan inquired further, raising an eyebrow as well as putting down his own fork to free his other hand which he used to hold Doug's other arm, "Tell us what it is that you're planning to do."

Doug's arms stiffened under the hold, but he did not move them away.

"I'm not planning on doing anything," he answered, unconvincingly, "Or at least, not anything that you wouldn't approve of."

"Oh," Brendan said, leaning in to fill the gap the table created between them, "Now you have to tell me what it is that I'm going to approve of."

Doug could feel his cheeks turn a shade of pink. He was not used to this... This 'chatting up', as it were, to try and convince Brendan to take him to bed again. 'It doesn't even have to be a bed', he thought, absently minded.

"Well... I just thought that... Maybe we could... Maybe you could..."

"Spit it out, Douglas," Brendan huffed, letting go of the other man's arms and sitting back comfortably into his seat.

However, he was still intrigued into what exactly Doug was tip toeing around. That thought came to his head again. The one which took into account that look in the younger man's eyes, and that his hands had not been pushed away when he had held onto his arms.

"Do you want me to fuck you again, Douglas?" Brendan asked, smiling as he did- this smile broadening when he saw Doug's reaction.

Doug could feel his cheeks burn now. He could only manage to nod, his eyes falling down to the table to avoid any contact.

"Then let's go," Brendan said, already standing up and throwing some money onto the table.

Doug could only stand up and follow Brendan out of the restaurant.