Six years ago...
You are seething. Spitting feathers. This close to losing your cool but you know that getting angry doesn't get you far.
Getting even does.
After months of sizing each other up and testing boundaries, trying to decide whether you are better off as friends or foes, Brendan has thrown down the gauntlet. In the dead of night, as you stumble out of the empty shed in the corner of the village that has been the hiding place for your £50,000 in cash loot, you shake in pure rage.
All the money is gone except for an insulting fifty pound note placed carefully in the centre of an otherwise empty dugout whose secret hatch is flung open. The broken lock taunts you with proof of how stupid you were to think that no one would ever find it.
Who's afraid of the big bad Fox? Clearly you were wrong to think the answer was everyone.
Brendan is the only one with the means, motivation and brains to find your stash of money.
This must be revenge for the incident of his brick of drugs that you found inadvertently in the club's office a couple of months ago. You had taken pleasure in telling Brendan, who denied all knowledge of the cocaine, that you flushed it down the toilet in an altruistic gesture,
'Close shave, ey. Cops would have been all over us if they caught wind of it. God knows who was stupid enough to leave it here.'
Brendan's poker face hadn't been able to contain his shock and distress at his loss of earnings. His loss was your gain. You hadn't destroyed the stuff. Instead, you got a tidy sum of cash from selling it on. A nice little earner for nearly no work.
So this must be his way of paying you back. The thing Brendan hasn't factored in is that you don't go down without a fight and you never lose. Ever. Certainly not to some smooth talking, slimy Irish git.
Ding ding. The gloves are off. It's Warren Fox versus Brendan Brady and you can already smell victory.
XOXO
You go straight to the club even though it is approaching three in the morning. It is after closing time but you know Brendan is still going to be there. You overheard him mention it to his sister when she and Lynsey had invited him to join them for late night drinks, snacks and board games at Lynsey's place. He said he had the club's books to balance after the club night, something the two of you did not infrequently.
You square your shoulders and ball your hands up into fists as you approach the doors of the club, readying yourself for a confrontation. You are a big man; intimidating physically. But you aren't violent. Not normally. Funny, you think, when you consider that the man you are about to confront looks too suave to use his fists and yet he is the more physically aggressive of the two of you.
The minute you unlock the club and let yourself in you know something is off. The lights are still on. That's odd. There is ambient music is filtering down from the floor above. Not club music. No thump-a-thump. Mellow stuff. Slushy. Otis? Al Green? Definitely Motown. Not your thing. Brendan's.
You are light on your feet as you climb the stairs wondering what he is playing at. You don't want to reveal your presence too soon in case you find something interesting. You hear muffled sounds under the music before your head can see onto the next floor's landing. Human sounds.
When you can just about get a panoramic view of the second floor you stop. They say that a picture tells a thousand words. Well, if this isn't a picture! You stare at what is in front of you with the morbid fascination of a kid picking at a dead bird. You did not expect this.
Your archenemy, Brendan Brady, balls deep in Ratboy, Ste Hay.
Doggy style.
The signs of urgency of their coming together are evident. The kid's uniform is pushed aside. Pants and trousers bunched around knees. Shirt tucked under armpits. Bent forward over the back of one of the club's brown leather sofas face down, arse up, legs spread as much as his bunched up trousers allow. His hands are secured together at the wrist behind his back with one of Brendan's, like being handcuffed.
Brendan's other hand holds the lad's hips steady while he fucks him mercilessly, his grey suit still on except where his flies are undone to allow his business to do its business.
You can hear the snap of hips colliding; fast and firm. It looks brutal so your first thoughts aren't,
'Fuck me, the rumours are true! Tache-man is queer with Ratboy!' Instead you wince as you look at Brendan's sizeable sheathed cock in motion and think, 'Is the kid okay?'
From the look of pure ecstacy of Ste's face the answer surprisingly seems to be 'yes and some'.
There is a lack of warmth in Brendan's actions. This must be a booty call/ fuck buddy scenario. This is not love. It is too primal and animalistic. You reckon that if this is how men have sex with each other it is a miracle they come out of it alive and wanting more.
Then something shifts. Brendan releases Ste's trapped hands and takes off his suit jacket and shirt quickly. He lowers his trousers and pants without pulling out of the lad then leans over Ste and tongues his ear before languidly kissing down his jaw line. His body is flush with the lad's back and his hands fan out over Ste's taut bronzed stomach and chest pulling him in.
Ste gasps then holds his breath as Brendan gently feels him up taking a break from the pummelling but still balls deep. One of Brendan's hands moves over the scanty hairs of Ratboy's groin before wrapping itself around his rock-hard dick. He jerks Ste off and begins to rock into him slower now, eliciting a deep groan from the younger man.
"You like that?" Brendan whispers frantically, out of breath.
Ste drags a hand through the Brendan's hair encouraging him to face him. Their lips meet in a kiss that is challenged by their positions but still burns, sloppy and sensual.
It is this kiss that makes you revise your assessment of what you first saw between them. Maybe this is more than a booty call. Their embrace is violently intimate and makes you feel like you are intruding on something pure, personal and powerful.
"Yeah." Ste sighs with their mouths millimetres apart before a deep guttural sound emerges from his chest. It is a laugh of sorts, only filthy and erotic. "I love it."
"You are so hot." Brendan whispers into his mouth before capturing Ste's lips with his own.
A couple of deep firm plunges cause Ste to shudder. The lad is losing himself. His eyes are glazed; turned on beyond a point of no return.
He surprises you when he whispers,
"I ... I love you, Brendan."
He grinds himself back onto the taller man.
What. The. Fuck? The lad loves that Irish mug? That makes him a mug.
There is silence. Brendan's pummelling ceases; sex in stasis. The only sound is the dulcet tone of Otis or Al as Brendan looks intently back at Ste.
Interesting. There is fire and fear in that look.
"Don't." You hear Bren say softly.
You have stared for too long. This is bordering on perversion on your part so you walk down a few stairs to get them out of sight. You lean on the wall of the stairs to eavesdrop further though.
"Why? It's true." Rat boy sounds sincere. "I don't have to pretend. There is no one else here."
The rumours about these two have hotted up in the village recently but you have been too busy to care. It doesn't affect your relationship with either man. You aren't Victorian. Your feeling is, 'do what you need to do to get your rocks off'. Live and let live. The only reason why Brendan's sexuality had held any level of interest to you before was because at one point it had seemed that he wanted to keep it a secret at all costs. And you were one of a few who knew about him. That information had held power once before it became almost public knowledge.
"Turn over, Stephen." You hear Brendan say firmly. "Lie down. On you back."
There is shuffling then after a few moments.
"Legs, Stephen." Voice full of passion and lust.
More shuffling, an answering moan from Ste as he is penetrated once again followed by gentle regular exhaled sighs from him. The pace has slowed down. The tone has changed. The romantics might call what you are hearing 'making love'.
"Fucking hell." Brendan's voice is muffled. "Want to stay in you forever, Stephen."
You walk away. You have seen and heard enough. As you exit the club you catch the lyrics of the song playing quietly through the speakers.
# If I gave you my love, I'd tell you what I'd do,
I'd expect a whole lotta love outta you.
You gotta be good to me,
I'm gonna be good to you.
There's a whole lotta things you and I could do...
What about the way you love me,
And the way you squeeze me.
Hey, Hey, Simply beautiful, Simply beautiful...#
Accidents don't happen around Brendan Brady. Everything is by design. The music playing in the background is no exception. This is a love song and you are not sure whether Rat boy realises that it is being played just for him.
You smile with the satisfaction of knowing that there is a plan forming in your mind. Maybe this 'relationship' can be used to your advantage.
You put two and two together and come up with £50,000 right back in your pocket.
XOXO
You observe Brendan and Ste over the next week and everything you see confirms what you saw in the club after hours.
Brendan is pussy whipped. Can you call it pussy whipped when it has to do with a bloke? Maybe cock whipped...
You saunter up to him as he stands behind the bar one afternoon leaning on a corner wall with his arms crossed as he micromanages Stephen and Jacqui.
"Hey sweet cheeks, less chat more action. Clean some glasses, will ye?" He says to Jacqui then turns to Rat boy. "Stephen, I need ye to help me get some crates from the cellar. Now."
"Yeah. Sure, Bren."
Jacqui raises an knowing eyebrow at the exchange but says nothing.
"Hiya mate." You say as you approach them. "Alright?"
"Never better, Foxy. Never better." Brendan answers and subconsciously glances at Ste.
You grin at him and nod.
"You stroking out or something?" He asks when you don't say anything.
"Nah. Nah, mate. Just wanted to have a word."
"Shoot." He says.
You drop your grin. "In private."
He frowns at your serious tone. "Get started downstairs, Stephen. I'll see you in ten."
"Okay." Rat boy says uncertainly. He senses the tension between you and his bloke. "See you in a bit."
You wave at his retreating slight body as he runs downstairs.
You lead the way to the office with Brendan close behind you and close the door once you are in.
"Why the face, Foxy?" Bren drawls. "Stepped on the scales? They say Lighter Life is the way to go."
You ignore his ribbing. With hands in pockets and a confident stance, you speak,
"I am giving you one chance to make this painless, 'tache man. Right now. Otherwise I am going to hurt you so badly you will regret having ever messed with me."
He cocks his head to one side and sniffs. "What are you talking about?"
"My money. I want it back."
"Thought so. You are having a stroke." He tries to get past you. "I'll get you an ambulance."
You lock the door. "Not so fast."
He narrows his eyes and hisses. "Open the door, Foxy!"
"Give me my money!"
"I don't know what you are talking about."
"Fifty grand. Stolen from the shed. Mine." You say slowly as if talking to someone remedial.
He shakes his head. "Nope. You've got the wrong man."
"See, now this is a shame." You feign sadness. "I was hoping we could do this the easy way."
He laughs at that. Pats you on the back like a pet and then walks round you, unlocking the door.
"Get your facts straight before you go around making accusations." He closes the door behind him leaving you seething in the office.
You be careful who you decide to mess with, you think, curling your lips into a determined smile.
XOXO
You pick the time and day carefully. Friday, 2.45am. Looking at the club's rota you find this is the ideal time to put your plan into action. Ste is not due to return to work for three days after that.
When his shift ends in the dead of night you are ready for him, hiding in the shadows of a quiet part of the route he uses to get home. You are dressed in black with matching gloves and balaclava. You pour half the clear contents of the unmarked bottle you have in your pocket onto a clean white sheet keeping the fumes that then come off it at a distance.
A few minutes later he rounds the corner, heading your way. He has a spring in his step and a small smile on his face. He is speaking into his phone so you withdraw into the shadows.
"Can I see you tomorrow?"
He smiles at the reply. "No. You aren't that irresistible! It's just that Amy and the kids are off to see Mike for the weekend which means I have the house to myself, so..."
You see him dart his tongue out to wet his lips as he walks past you unknowingly. You follow him quietly. He is so into his conversation that he doesn't notice that he is being stalked.
"It's fine. I'll see you on Monday, yeah? Enjoy watching the game with Pete. Oh wait! By the way, have you noticed that Warren keeps staring at us?" He says. There is genuine worry etched into his tone.
He waits a reply and then says, "Funny! Somehow, I don't think he is into taches but... anyway; maybe I am being a bit paranoid. It's just I knew him way back when. He isn't someone to mess with. He can be really creepy, Bren."
You smile. The lad has got that right. You wrap the white cloth around your hand.
"Okay, Bye."You hear him say softly and then turn off his phone. Bad news for him. Good news for you. That phone conversation was keeping him safe.
You stalk up to him quickly. He senses only too late that someone is behind him. He turns around with fear registering on his face.
He turns to run and emits a strangled, 'No' as he reads the situation for what it is; dangerous.
He doesn't get far.
You grab him around his waist but he struggles so impressively and lets out a shout so loud, you are forced into punching him in the ribs with all your force just to startle him into stillness. You hear the crunch of broken ribs on impact and his sharp wheeze. Immediately, you push the cloth in your hand into his face. It isn't long before he goes limp in your arms.
You pull him into the shadows.
Sorry Ste, you think. Nothing personal.
XOXO
Dear readers, thank you for reading and reviewing this. It is an experiment in writing style. I hope it isn't too weird for you! By the way, the song playing in the club when Brendan and Ste are getting down and dirty is the very sexy 'Simply Beautiful' by Al Green. Amazing song. Smoother than nectar...