Having made the spur of the moment decision to leave Belfast at the end of the week, and go to see Cheryl in England, Brendan felt lighter.
As soon as Mal and Mercedes had left the pub, Brendan finished his drink and walked quickly back to the B&B. The house rules against coming and going during the day didn't apply to him, because he'd charmed the landlady and she thought he was lovely.
In his room, he took out his stash of money from its hiding place and counted it. He'd need some for himself, to pay his way until he sorted something out with Cheryl. He would hand the bulk of the cash over to Eileen, though, to keep her and the children going until he was back on his feet and could start sending money home for them. But there was also Macca: now that Eileen had got her nephew fired from his job, Brendan felt a degree of responsibility. He counted out five hundred pounds from the amount that he had intended to keep for himself, put it in his inside pocket, and left to visit Macca.
:::::::
Brendan let himself into the flat.
Macca was wearing tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt. He was unshaven, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
"Scruffy little sod," Brendan observed, only then realising that he'd said it out loud.
Macca ran to him and flung his arms around his neck. Brendan peeled him off, and pushed him away with one hand on his chest: this wasn't a reunion.
"Eileen told me you've lost your job." Brendan took the money from his pocket and held it out to Macca.
"What's that for? Are you paying me off?" Angry tears filled Macca's eyes.
Brendan softened a little.
"It's not like that. It's just to tide you over. Take it."
As the lad made no move, Brendan dropped the cash onto the nearest chair.
"How's Eileen?" Macca asked, breaking the awkward silence.
"Jesus, Macca, how d'you think she is?"
"Are you still together?"
Brendan shook his head. "I'm leaving. Going to England, to see Chez. I can't stay here."
"Let me come with you."
"What? No! For fuck's sake, what's the matter with you?"
"But what's to stop us now, Bren? Now that Eileen knows, there's nothing..."
Brendan closed the short distance between them and grabbed the neck of Macca's T-shirt, twisting it tight between his fingers. Macca could smell the whiskey on his breath, and the familiarity of it sent a wave of heat to his cock.
"I don't want you near me," Brendan hissed. "Have you got that? You make me sick."
He let go. Macca took a step or two back, but looked Brendan in the eyes.
"Take me with you, Brendan." It was now or never. "I love you."
Brendan shook his head in warning.
"I love you," Macca said again.
"No. No."
"I love you."
Macca had used up his chances, and Brendan struck him across the face with the back of his hand, sending him staggering sideways. Brendan caught him as he fell, and held him for a moment. Then Macca stretched up to kiss him, and Brendan pulled the boy against him and kissed him back.
Their teeth clashed as Brendan bit at Macca's lips and tongue, holding his head still with one hand. Macca gripped Brendan's arms, feeling the muscles hard beneath the leather of his jacket. Their cocks began to stiffen as their bodies pressed together.
Brendan released his hold on Macca and shook himself free of his grasp, and for a few seconds they looked at each other, both uncertain, both breathing heavily. Brendan knew he shouldn't be here, doing this, but it became in his mind inevitable. He took hold of the bottom of Macca's T-shirt and dragged it up and off, his fingernails scoring vivid tracks on the pale skin of his flanks as he did so. Macca shuddered at the sensation, and moved to kiss Brendan again, but instead Brendan picked him up over his shoulder, carried him to the bedroom and dropped him onto the bed.
Macca wriggled out of his tracksuit bottoms and boxers; Brendan undressed too and fell on top of him. Macca's face was red where Brendan had hit him, and it had begun to swell; his left eye was starting to close up. Brendan kissed his cheekbone softly, and then his mouth roughly. He felt between Macca's open legs and pushed a finger inside him, then tried a second, but Macca resisted and Brendan stopped. He was going too fast. He looked to see if the bottle of lube was still on the bedside cabinet; it was, and he reached for it.
"Yes?" he asked. Macca nodded, and Brendan kissed him slowly and deeply. Macca was reminded why, in spite of everything, he was in love with this man.
"Okay now?"
"Yeah."
Brendan pumped some lube onto his fingers and tried him again, more patiently than before. This time he felt Macca relax, and was able to prepare him. He positioned the tip of his cock where his fingers had been.
"Macca, look at me." Brendan knew that Macca was physically aroused, by the feel of the lad's cock straining against his belly. But he needed him to want him mentally too, or what would that make him? Half the pleasure for Brendan was in bringing his lovers the best sex they'd ever had; amid the chaos that he brought to their lives, he could at least give them that.
Macca opened his eyes. The left one looked sore, but Brendan noticed with satisfaction that as he looked up at him, his pupils dilated.
"You want this, yeah? You sure?"
Macca nodded again.
"So say it."
"Fuck me."
As Macca spoke, Brendan entered him, and with two or three pushes he was in him to the hilt.
Brendan hadn't had sex without a condom since he was a kid, except with Eileen. The sudden intimacy of it, here now with Macca, startled him and filled him with emotion. He dealt with this by pounding into his lover, chasing oblivion, but he came too quickly, before Macca was even close. Brendan lay on top of him, panting, and Macca stroked his back in reassurance.
After a minute, Brendan withdrew and moved down the bed. He grasped Macca's cock firmly and lapped at its tip with his tongue, then took it fully into his mouth and moved his hand to ease his fingers inside him again, finding him slippery with lube and semen. Macca gasped and arched his back. With his free hand, Brendan felt his way up Macca's body. Macca thought for a moment that Brendan was going to squeeze his throat, as he liked to do sometimes, but instead Brendan reached for his face and slid his thumb into his mouth.
Brendan worked on Macca's cock: he didn't do this very often, and had forgotten how good it felt. Macca held Brendan's wrist with both hands and sucked on his thumb, concentrating to delay his climax as long as he could.
When Macca finally came, Brendan moved up the bed again and kissed him, his tongue replacing his thumb and filling his lover's mouth.
Then Brendan was standing up, and gathering his clothes from the floor, and heading for the bathroom.
He used Macca's toothbrush to clean his teeth and scrub his tongue, then got into the shower and washed away every trace of the boy. Then he dried off and got dressed.
Macca had got up and put on his dressing gown, and was in the front room. Brendan had noticed that he had lost weight since they'd last been together ten days before. He looked tiny, and vulnerable, and Brendan felt a rush of shame at how intensely appealing he found him in this state; and a stab of remorse for all the beatings, for not ending this when he first realised that Macca had fallen in love, and for what he was about to say.
"That's it, Macca. That's it. We're done now."
"I don't understand, Bren. If you don't want to be with me, why did you just..?"
"It was just another fuck." Brendan needed him to get the message. He could never be what Macca wanted him to be.
"I'll follow you. To England, I'll follow you."
Brendan strode across the room and grabbed Macca round his neck. Macca shrank away from him as Brendan snarled into his face, "Follow me, and I'll kill you. Have you got that?"
Brendan threw him against the wall and he crashed to the floor.
As Brendan headed for the door, Macca struggled to his feet.
"Brendan," he called after him, "You better hope your next boyfriend loves you too. It's the only reason you get away with it."
"Goodbye, Macca," Brendan said, instantly repressing Macca's words in his head in case they were true.