Ste waited for Brendan. Then he waited some more. The cellar was spotless, the bar was shining and stocked, and Jacqui, Rhys, Theresa, all the bar staff had gone, all curious as to why Ste hadn't left with them.
He waited in the cellar at first, sat on a barrel, but there wasn't much too look at except empty barrels, so then he moved to the bar, and sat in the darkness by a table. Then he got bored and knocked on the office door. There was no answer.
He felt disappointed for a moment. Brendan had gone without him? How did he get out of the building without Ste leaving? And why hadn't he locked all the doors? Ste wondered up the backstairs. There were gas lamps still lit all the way up. Surely Brendan wouldn't have been happy to just go leaving the club like this?
He went all the way up, the trail of lights still on and guiding his way to the Greek room. He stopped outside. From within came the sound of laughter.
He didn't knock, but he didn't barge in either. He just found himself in a bit of a hurry.
Brendan and Simon were sat close together, both holding a glass of an amber liquid. The laughter stopped when Ste entered as both men turned to see who had interrupted. Their faces held curiosity and a light that showed the laughter Ste had heard was genuine.
"Oh," Ste mumbled, "sorry."
He had a desperate urge to run, like the image of these two men sat next to each other companionably was somehow as terrifying as Danny's whole force had been. But Brendan just greeted him, "Steven," he said, darkly, "why don't you get off home, see them kids of yours. We won't be long."
It was about as distinct as any way of saying 'Get lost,' that Ste could imagine, and it kind of hurt. He nodded, not trusting his voice not to show his over-reaction.
"It was great to meet you, Ste," said Simon, kindly, "I'd love to get to know you better. Tomorrow, maybe."
Ste gave Simon a little smile before he turned, but before he could get far, he heard Brendan's voice again.
"Actually, Steven, why don't you join us?"
Ste's heart leapt a little in hope. Maybe he wasn't out in the cold after all. He turned back, and was surprised to find Brendan wasn't looking at him. He was staring at Simon, gaze dark. "Alright," Ste said anyway, again trying to pretend Brendan's change of mind didn't affect him as much as it did.
He made his way over, and realised Brendan was indicating the spot right beside himself on the long chair he was sat upon. He still wasn't looking at Ste, so Ste just flopped down on it, and waited with curiosity.
Suddenly Brendan's hand was on his thigh, curving around, fingers on the inside. He nearly jumped a mile and stared at Simon, momentarily terrified. Bad things happened when people found out he was sleeping with Brendan, and he was shocked Brendan had done anything as intimate as this where someone could see, let alone someone they barely knew. Simon raised an eyebrow and looked at the hand for a moment, and his eyes only returned to Brendan when the Irishman started to speak again.
"You were explaining where you were before you showed up at my club," said Brendan, lightly, voice giving no indication that he was feeling anything about his hand being on a young man's leg.
"Yes I was," said Simon, "Well as I said I was working for the man as they say," he looked at Ste again with a small frown, "but there was a misunderstanding and said man made it impossible for me to work there. He had some sort of problem with me, I guess."
"What sort of problem?" asked Brendan, but Walker just shrugged.
"The usual," he mumbled, "pretty wife, jealous husband, load of bollocks."
Brendan took a thoughtful sip of his whiskey, looking the man over intently, as though trying to read his very soul. His hand rested on Ste's thigh, and as Walker's reaction had been so non-existent, Ste began to allow himself to enjoy it.
Simon emptied his glass with one swift gulp, "Well, as cosy as this is, Brady," he said, amiably "I don't suppose I'm getting paid for it, so unless you've got some more whisky on offer, I think I'll be calling it a night." He slammed the glass down on the table and stood to go.
"Stop," said Brendan, forcefully, in his tone that was impossible to ignore. Simon was no exception. He turned his whole body to look expectantly at Brendan. "I've got a job for ye," said Brendan, "in the morning. If you're interested."
Ste looked between them, silently, wondering. Simon crossed his arms. "What sort of job?" he asked.
"The kind you find out when you agree to it," said Brendan, cryptically.
Simon's face showed no reaction. "The dodgy kind, then?"
"Now what would make you say something like that?" said Brendan, his tone suddenly playful.
Simon gave a half smile. On some faces it would have looked crooked and creepy, but it kind of suited Simon's. "Must be my suspicious nature," he said, then added with emphasis, "boss."
Brendan smiled, taking his hand off Ste's thigh for a moment to hold it out to Simon. "I'll see you in the morning, then," he said confidently.
Simon didn't hesitate. "In the morning," he said, and took the proffered hand and shook it once. His eyes, which had been glued to Brendan's, passed over Ste as he turned away to leave.
"What's in the morning?" asked Ste, stupidly.
Brendan was silent for a moment. The hand had returned to Ste's leg the moment Simon had let it go, but soon after Walker's steps had passed out of hearing, it wandered higher up Ste's thigh. "Nothing for you to worry about," Brendan said in a low throaty grumble.
If the hand hadn't got so much higher, Ste might have remembered to be annoyed, instead of gasping like a little girl with a crush.
"If he ever touches you," Brendan whispered, "I'll cut his balls off."
If Ste's balls hadn't been so interested in what Brendan's hands were doing, he might have managed to point out that that was an overreaction. As it was, he managed a smile, "If he had an affair with his boss's wife, I doubt he'll be interested in a skinny, stupid boy."
Brendan sighed, "I thought we got over that already Steven," the hand slipped up to Ste's fly, "you don't put yourself down, now. And if one more person shows up interested in you, I'm going to have to lock you in a tower." He made deft work of getting into Ste's pants and finding his shaft.
Ste laughed, despite his arousal. "I think you need to remember I ain't a girl!" he said.
"Seriously? You think I've forgotten you're a boy?" said Brendan, amused, "I've got my hand on your cock."
"Only when it suits you," said Ste, but quietly.
Brendan's hand grasped him firmly, cutting off anything else Ste was going to say. "What? Am I not being rough enough with ye? That it? Want me to throw you around the place? I haven't exactly been gentle with ye as it is."
Half of Ste wanted to point out he didn't mean anything about the sex. The sex was perfect as it was. The other half had an image of Brendan taking him over the bar, making him scream loud enough to wake the dead. There was nothing bad about that image that he could think of, but if he were to compete with Simon Walker's strength and easy charm, he had to push it. He had to push Brendan.
He grasped Brendan's head with both hands and kissed him. Dislodging Brendan's hand, he pressed his body against the older man's, pushing him down. He felt Brendan smirk into the kiss, and grasp his arse firmly, so he pushed him to lie on his back, his own body flat on top, Brendan still holding his arse. His own trousers were hanging open and flopping down below his arse, so he let go of Brendan's head long enough to attack the Irishman's trousers.
Brendan's cock escaped its confines to stand, glorious, huge and erect. To Ste it was something amazing, and he took it in his hand. He knew what to do, what would have given himself pleasure, but he needed to take his time here. He was in control, suddenly, and such a chance may never come again. He wet his palm and gave Brendan's cock a slow stroke from root to tip, making its owner groan. The sound went straight to Ste's own groin, but he had to put that aside, as he teased Brendan's flesh mercilessly, stroking and gripping and tantalising him. He couldn't keep it up for long though before he needed to taste it.
And Brendan let him, didn't try to push him in any way, but lay back on the bench, watching Ste pleasure him as he chose, and rewarding him with pants and moans of encouragement. Ste felt his own arousal build in sympathy. Brendan's cock in his mouth felt second best to only one other sensation, but he soon felt he had to move on or he'd go mad.
He lifted his head and kissed a quick trail up Brendan's body. Brendan's hands found his slim frame then, gripping his waist and back and arse, bringing them closer, finding lips and almost attacking them with need. Their cocks touched and both gasped.
"Ride it, Steven," breathed Brendan, "Ride it."
"Sounds fun, but no," said Ste, drunk on the excitement and the power. He had brought out this desperation in Brendan, this need in him. He was going to use it. He slipped a hand back down Brendan's body, feeling the muscles beneath the infuriating clothes that still lingered. They would have to go next time. He was too worked up right now to do anything about them. He pushed Brendan's trousers further down. Brendan lifted his hips to help. When he had them far enough away, he slipped the hand between Brendan's legs, behind his balls, until he reached the small puckered hole behind.
Ste grinned to find it, but the feeling of pride was over in a moment, replaced by a feeling of falling, and a sudden hard edge of a nearby table as he was thrown unceremoniously away from Brendan. The table at his back and the floor on his arse would bruise. And for a few moments he couldn't move with the shock and pain. The hands that reached his neck seconds later increased all of those feelings.
"Never do that, never touch me there, ever, do you hear?" yelled a voice above him.
Ste spluttered, beyond confused by what had just happened.
"Do you understand?" the voice yelled, furiously, "Never, ever, ever try that again. If you do that again I will kill you! Do you hear me?"
It was Brendan. Brendan was threatening to kill him, and he was terrified and horrified and so confused. The grip on his neck choked him then, closing in, and all Ste could do was nod, agreeing to whatever would stop this happening.
The grip went as quickly as it arrived. Ste still felt shocked and could feel his body shaking. His surroundings came back to him, and above him was Brendan, his face pale and eyes wild, and Ste felt for a moment like he was looking onto the face of the devil, wounded and fierce and inhuman. Still gasping for breath, still shaking like a leaf, he knew what he had to do. He stumbled clumsily to his feet, knocking the table as he did.
"Steven," he heard a quiet voice protest, but it was irrelevant. The man he thought he was falling in love with was not real. The creature in this room was a monster, he could see it now. The devil had tried to trap him in the underworld with his poisoned fruit, but this was his true face, and Ste had to go.
He hit more tables and furniture as he ran, cursing himself for his stupidity and pulling his trousers up and closed as he ran. He had only one place he could run, the only place a father could go when he feared for his safety. He had put his whole family in the power of this man.
He had to cling to the banister as he ran down the stairs on shaky legs, gasping for the breath to escape, but he didn't stop, even when he fell and grazed his hand on the pavement outside. He ran all the way to Brendan's house, and all the way up to his children. He flung the door open and was thankful for how deeply his children slept when neither stirred beyond their beautiful deep breathing. Amy did though, jumping up at the sound. Even in the darkness he could see her light hair and pale face.
"Ste?" she gasped, "is that you?"
"Yeah," he said, hoping the darkness would hide the worst of his distress, "Don't worry, just go back to sleep." He shut the door behind him.
"Are you…" Amy started, but he interrupted.
"Go back to sleep!" he repeated, firmly while trying not to be loud, but didn't stir from the doorway. He listened for the sound of following footsteps, of murderous men. He felt behind him for the lock, but even once he was certain Brendan could not enter he did not go to bed. He wouldn't have slept anyway. Instead, he sat with his back against the door and listened.