The Reunion Chapter 9: The Reunion Martin 2, a hollyoaks fanfic

Five Years Ago...

"You didn't have to get up." You insist to your boyfriend, Toby, as he walks into the kitchen of the apartment you share.

You are dressed and busying yourself around the cooker.

He isn't but even just wearing an old pair of tracksuit bottoms, Toby is a sexy fucker.

Your looks are chalk and cheese. He is more 'Mediterranean', five-eight, compact with a neat gym-toned body and brooding dark good looks. You are more 'Aussie surfer', six-four, with the lithe athletic shape of a swimmer and fair hair.

Toby lifts his glasses off his nose enough to rub his eyes tiredly then lazily scratches his chest while breaking out into a yawn.

"I wanted to." He says sleepily and comes up to hug you from behind.

"Hey." You shrug out of his hold, "I'm holding a pan of boiling water."

"Sorry." He mumbles and stretches himself out before perching on a stool near you.

You suppress your guilt over the fact that you have been trying to avoid your boyfriend's touch recently.

"Got to get to work soon." You say and pour him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." He says, takes a sip of his drink and looks at you uncertainly. "You've been working a lot harder recently, haven't you?"

Five weeks earlier...

It is the end of your therapy session. You say bye to Stephen.

'Martin, I know you are dead busy and everything but I was wondering whether, um, you fancied a beer or something before you go.' Ste asks you with a shyness that you could mistake for mild flirtation.

Yes, Ste. Fuck yes, you think. Instead you say,

'Sorry. Can't. It wouldn't be appropriate. You know what I mean?"

Therapist-patient conflict and all that.

"Yeah. I guess."

"I'll see you next week though. Bye.'

You walk away briskly before you lose your resolve.

"Case load has been heavy." You tell Toby as you place six boiled eggs into the pan of water and granery bread in the toaster. You feel so guilty. Why are you feeling so guilty? You have nothing to feel guilty about.

"I've noticed. How are things going with the PTSD one? The abduction?"

You freeze mid-action and goose pimples come up on your arms. You have never mentioned Ste to Toby. How does he know?

Four weeks earlier...

'Hi.' Ste smiles coyly as you join him on his couch. He looks at you closely. 'How have you been?'

'Yeah, good.' You say. 'You?'

'Yeah.' He blushes. He clears his throat. 'I have been looking forward to our session and, uh, seeing you again.'

You swallow down the lump the forms in your throat at his words. 'Why?'

'Because you make me feel better. I think of you like a friend, sometimes. Is that okay?'

'We can't be friends, Ste.' You say, knowing it is essential to make your relationship clear. 'But I can be the person you confide in and can feel safe around and trust.'

Ste looks at you then and smiles. 'Okay.'

If this was five months ago you would be persuaded to coax Toby back into bed for a quickie before work but things have changed. Now when you close your eyes you picture blue eyes, high cheekbones, pouty lips and dirty blond hair not dark locks and a steady brown gaze.

How did that happen?

You know Toby thinks something is up. He has tried relentlessly to 'spice things up' in bed bringing third and fourth parties into the mix. You know it is because right at the beginning of your relationship you had told him that you wanted to keep things 'open' and he probably now thinks you have tired of him sexually. He is wrong. This has nothing to do with him.

You have changed. Grown. You are no longer the immature, committment-phobe that made that selfish decision for both of you years ago. This thing you feel for Ste goes beyond pure physical attraction.

"The abduction?" You say evasively. "Um-"

You clear your throat nervously. Lies and deception have never been your strong suits.

He points at the patient record on the kitchen table. "Stephen Hay. Twenty-one. Post traumatic stress disorder with severe avoidant behaviour and anxiety. Rape. Multiple injuries. Must be pretty fucked in the head to get technical."

You snatch up Ste's file and place it close to your chest. "Why were you looking at it?"

You are angry .

Toby gives you a confused smile. "You slipped up. You left it lying around last night so I thought I'd see what has had you so fascinated for the last few months."

Three weeks earlier...

You are five months into therapy.

'Tell me what happened when Brendan came to see you at the hospital.'

After being found outside a barn in Chester, Ste spent time in intensive care and an orthopaedic ward.

He clams up even though you have been leading up to this conversation for some time.

He drops his head to stare into his lap. 'Basically, he told me he didn't want me anymore.'

'Do you remember what he said?'

'Yes. He came into my room on the ward when I were asleep. His hand was touching me like this.' He indicates a stroking action down the side of his face. 'I opened my eyes and he was stood over me. He pulled his hand away like I were diseased or summat. I were surprised to see him because I had been in hospital like three weeks already and that were his first time to visit me.'

There is a quiver of upset in Ste's voice. 'Everybody kept saying that it were because he was too upset to see me in my state. But they were lying. I knew he just didn't want to know.'

'Did you ask him where he had been?'

He shakes his head.

'He looked tired, you know.' He whispers.

You nod so he continues.

He speaks softly and deliberately. 'I said hi and he looked like he was going to throw up. I looked a right mess. I don't blame him. His hands were in fists like he was going to punch someone. He found me disgusting, Marty. He knew I was damaged goods after what that man did-'

He stops mid-sentence for a second to collect himself.

'Bren didn't want me after that.'

His body shakes uncontrollably from the memory.

'Do you feel like what happened in that barn was your fault, Ste?'

'No.' He replies quickly. 'I'm not daft but sometimes I think that Brendan thinks that I allowed it to happen. And I didn't. I tried fighting. I did everything I could.'

He breaks down suddenly. Big gasps of breath are fractured by heavy sobs that wretch at your heart. Fat tears fall down his face.

You pull him into your arms and whisper into his hair,

'I want you to hear me, Ste. What happened wasn't your fault. No one deserves that. Ever. The person who kidnapped you is a monster. Don't forget that.'

'Yeah. I-, I don't want to talk about it right now.' He whispers back. He sits up straight again and rubs his wet cheeks dry looking at you apologetically, 'Sorry.'

'It's okay. We'll revisit that some other time. Why don't we stick to Brendan's visit at the hospital?'

'Okay.' He takes a deep breath. 'He asked me if I was in pain. I told him no then I said I missed him. He told me to shut up. He was angry. He said I was an idiot for pining over him. He said he was done with me; that he didn't want what we had anymore. I asked him why he was saying words that hurt me when I was hurting already. I told him I loved him.'

'And what did he say?' You ask.

'That he didn't love me.'

Ste looks numb as if the emotions he felt nearly a year ago have exhausted him to a point where he doesn't have the energy to conjure them up anymore.

'And how did that make you feel?'

He shakes his head. 'I was sure he was lying at first. He cared for me, Martin. I know he did. He had just asked me to move in with him like a week before.'

'It is sometimes difficult to accept when someone you love wants to leave.'

He nods. 'I told him I didn't want us to be over. That he couldn't leave me while I needed him. He couldn't be that cruel. I just wanted him to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay.'

'What did he do?'

'He told me that I didn't get it. That we could never work out and that he never wanted to see me again. I burst into tears because I was exhausted, confused, angry and hurt. I felt like my world was crashing down around me.'

'Break ups are difficult, Ste. Yours was even more so because of what you had to go through.'

'He kissed me before he went, Marty, like he didn't want to go. But he did after telling me not to bother trying to find him.'

Without thinking, you pull him into your arms once again. You want him to know that even if that twat of an ex left him, you are going to be there for him.

'If Brendan didn't see how much of a good thing you are then you are better off without him. I'm here now.'

He responds by clinging onto you as if never wanting to let you go. You take advantage of the proximity to inhale him and feel his contours as he moulds himself to you on his couch. You finally push him away gently, feeling guilty for taking carnal pleasure out of an embrace that was aimed to comfort.

That is when he leans in and lightly touches his lips to yours.

"Ste's not gossip fodder, Toby." You say sharply. You don't want to talk to your boyfriend about Ste. It feels... wrong.

"Why are you so upset? We always talk about each other's clients. What's different about him?"

You stare at Toby and feel like he has you sussed. He is a brilliant psychiatrist but right now that is playing to your disadvantage.

"Nothing." You reply quickly. You shake your head and turn to lean back on the kitchen counter, gripping the edge with your hands.

Toby drinks his black coffee as he observes you closely trying to read your non-verbal language.

"You're seeing him today." He says.

"He has an appointment. Yes." You avoid eye contact.

"Still at his place?" Toby asks softly. He points at Ste's file. "I read that."

"Yeah. He has agoraphobia." You say.

"I'm guessing he has a long list of phobias related to his fear of being abducted again." Toby theorises. "Does he go out at all?"

"Not much. To the local shops on foot only. Sometimes to see his kids and their mother. They live five minutes away."

Toby watches you as you shakily peel the shells off the eggs and put them onto two plates with the toast.

"You are trembling." He says in a measured tone as you put his plate in front of him. "Why so nervous?"

You stare at him. "I'm not."

"Do you fancy him?"

Bam!

Just like that. Toby doesn't mince his words. If Ste was some guy you were thinking of hooking up with for a one time thing you would be honest. But it feels more than that so you lie,

"No."

After a pause that seems to last a lifetime your boyfriend laughs.

You look up at him as he stares at you with mirth in his eyes.

"What's so funny?" You ask. That is the thing with going out with a psychiatrist. You get psychoanalysed.

"Liar. You like him." He says. "His a client, Marty. Don't forget that and don't do anything stupid. You are experiencing countertransference. Hay is projecting the feelings he had for Brendan onto you and you, in turn, are picking up on those feelings and reciprocating them. You are subconsciously filling a void in his life. These aren't real emotions and you know it."

"I don't... I..." You shake your head. "Nothing has happened, Toby. I have made it clear to Ste that nothing will."

Two weeks earlier...

'Ste, about last time. It was wrong of me to hug you and it was also wrong of you to kiss me. It blurs our relationship. We need to keep our boundaries clear. Do you understand?'

'I liked it. The kiss, I mean. It didn't feel wrong. Plus that wasn't a real kiss.'

You swallow. You really want to find out what a 'real kiss' with Ste is like.

This is you chance to tell him that you are taken since you know he would back off but you don't.

Instead you say,

"Still, it can't happen again."

"Marty, you either use your countertransference in therapy or you walk away." Toby says.

"You aren't jealous?" You say.

"Why? Should I be?" He says but his cup of coffee is shaking in his hands belying his words. The cool attitude is an act. "Do I have cause to be jealous?"

"No." You lie. You can't get Ste out of your head.

He reaches out his hand to you. "Good, because no other man matters, right?"

"Right."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." You say.

Toby smiles. He has lumped Ste in with the faceless men that you two have shared your bed with over the years.

Big mistake.

Ste is so much more.

"What time are you going to be home tonight?" He asks suddenly. "Do you want to do something? Movie? Meal out?"

"Yeah, maybe."

He tries a small tentative smile, "Maybe fuck me? Just you and me?"

"Yeah." You smile at him. You see a flash of what first attracted you to him. Toby is hot, smart, not possessive and self-assured.

"Definitely." You kiss him and things heat up quickly. You prise his hand from your groin and step away. You give him a quick peck. "Later."

"Okay."

You point at his plate and smile.

"Now eat."

XOXO

Your day goes past in a blur as you think over your conversation with Toby and your feelings for Ste. Over the last few weeks you have started to believe that what you felt for your client was real; a deep need to be part of his life. You thought it was love. But your boyfriend reckons it is a recognised psychological phenomenon which can happen between a therapist and his client.

Either way it is not healthy.

As you make your way to Stephen's house at the end of the day you make your mind up. Whether this is countertransference or love you have to walk away; for the sake of your relationship with your boyfriend and for Ste's mental recovery.

You grip the steering wheel of your car hard. You don't know how he is going to take your news. You feel nervous when you walk up the path that leads to his council house. You ring the door bell and wait. Normally he is at the door almost straight away as if he waits right next to it for your weekly arrival.

The routine is always the same,

- He calls out your name from the other side of the door, 'Martin?' and waits for you to say, 'Yes. It's me.'

- He checks that it is definitely you by looking through the peep hole.

- He cautiously opens the door with the latch still on and glances at you through the tiny open crack.

- He darts his eyes around to check there is no one lingering behind you with a look of measured fear.

- He says 'hey' and mumbles an apology for his checking behaviour claiming that he thinks he is getting better.

- He opens the door just enough to let you in.

- He shuts it quickly, double locks it and audibly sighs in relief as if grateful that the ordeal of letting me in is over.

But today is different. He opens the door straight away without checking and smiles at you.

"Hi." He pulls you into the house before closing it.

"Hi." You look around figuring that his kids must have been over to visit. Ste is always more upbeat after seeing them. They are like therapy. But their toys are neatly packed away and the kitchen sink is devoid of plastic crockery and cutlery suggesting he has been home alone.

His mood is unusually light. This looks like progress with a capital P. But sudden improvement is rare. It makes you suspicious.

You are worried.

"You seem in a good mood." You say.

He laughs, rubs a hand through his short hair in coy embarrassment and looks up at you through his frame of ridiculously long lashes. "I think I am."

He grabs your hand and drags you down the corridor that leads to the rest of the bungalow.

"What are you doing?" You ask, feeling you heart speed up as you are directed into a bedroom. His bedroom.

Fuck.

You need to tell him now before you change your mind.

"Ste." You start but he gently pushes you onto his bed. You sit rod straight on its edge.

"I woke up this morning and everything became clear to me." He says as he rummages through his wardrobe.

"Um, Ste. There is something I need to tell you..." You look around his bedroom. It is modest like the rest of his house but neat. The double bed has a firm mattress with a simple dark blue duvet covering it. His bedside table has two photos in frames on it; one of him with his kids and their mother and one with him and his son. You look into the bin next to the bed. There is another photo in a frame with a broken glass covering. You see Ste and Brendan in a pose that screams familiarity.

He has just binned a picture of him with Brendan. He catches where you are staring.

"I have decided that I need to put everything behind me." He says firmly.

"Huh?"

"Everything. What happened. I am moving on." His mood suddenly shifts from bright and breezy to sombre. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. A simple calming exercise.

"I thought that is what we were trying to do together." You say.

You look down at what he has got out of the wardrobe and placed on the bed next to you. A crucifix, a black crumpled t-shirt and a brown large envelope. You identify the logo on the t-shirt.

Chez Chez. That's the name of the club he used to work in before it changed its name and his ex sold his share.

You pick up the black garment and study it. As you grip it, a portion of it feels hardened as if starched. You fan it out with both your shaky hands and drop it immediately when you observe what is smeared over its front; congealed blood from its neck all the way down to the hem like a static waterfall.

"Fucking hell." You whisper after a sharp intake of breath. Stephen rushes to pick it up as you point at it. "Please don't tell me that this is the shirt you were wearing."

You feel a wave of nausea so acute that the bitter acid of your stomach contents tickle the back of your throat. You hold your hand to your mouth and dry retch as Ste carefully folds the t-shirt over and places it into the brown paper bag.

"Okay. I won't."

"That should be in police hands." You say numbly. "It's evidence."

"You know I wasn't wearing it when I was found."

Ste wasn't wearing anything when he was found. He looks at the crucifix for a moment before throwing it in too.

"Yeah." You manage to croak out. "Yeah. I know. Sorry."

Ste sits down next to you with the brown bag in his hands and stares ahead. There is a quiet strength about him. He is resolute.

He writes on a small slip of paper in a measured way not dissimilar to when a child is learning. Ste has dyslexia. It makes reading and writing a challenge.

You look at what's written on the paper,

Brendan,

All this is behind me,

He puts the paper in the parcel and seals it up.

His tone is matter of fact,

"So anyway. I was thinking about it and yeah, I get what you keep saying about needing to take things slow and not rush my progress or whatever but then I woke up today and thought, fuck it. I am tired of feeling crap, Martin. I am tired of jumping at my own shadow. I hate that stepping out into the garden or going round the shops is the worst thing possible. I feel like I can't breathe. Like I am going to die or something."

"You are getting better, Ste. It's just frustrating when you feel it isn't happening fast enough."

"It's not just that." He says as he turns to you.

You are transfixed. His direct blue gaze hits you.

You swallow back against an urge to maul him.

He takes your hands in his. His palms are sweaty. There is an unmistakable sexual undercurrent here as he rubs his thumb over the palm of your hand over and over again while looking at you steadily.

"Martin. I have been thinking," He says and then licks his lips nervously. "Like, for a bit."

You realise that Ste is probably about to declare his feelings for you. He honestly thinks that he cares for you but you know that Toby is right. He loved Brendan and he has transferred those feelings onto you.

"Ste, before you say anything, I need to tell-"

"I don't want you to be my therapist anymore."

You frown and look at him. "What?"

"It's the only option."

You are confused . He is firing you? You never anticipated that. "Why?"

He smiles at you. "You seriously don't know? I think I have been really obvious over the last few weeks."

He curls a hand behind your neck and pulls you closer to him squashing the parcel between your bodies. His fingers comb through the short hairs at the back of your head as he stares at you with purpose.

"What are you doing, Ste?"

"I like your smile." He looks nervous, hot and shy all at once.

"What?"

His dilated pupils drop down to your mouth and he whispers,

"Since you are obviously dumber than I thought, I am making it obvious how I feel about you."

Your heart races as he kisses you softly. Your subconscious screams at you to pull away but you don't.

You succumb.

You go with your heart.

In an instant, you have your hands in Ste's hair, dragging over his back, pulling him in while your mouth attacks his in a desperate kiss that releases months of pent up frustration. Everything that you wondered about Ste is answered as his mouth parts and allows your tongue entry.

He is so fucking hot it is unreal; a great kisser and sexually responsive. His short hair looks spiky but is actually really soft. His back is strong and he is so slim that you can feel ribs through his t-shirt. It should cause alarm but there is robustness to Ste despite this.

You dare to reach a hand under his top and he doesn't pull away when you trace over his smooth skin.

Toby is a distant memory. The guilt will come later.

"Ste, are you sure about this?" You ask after a moment.

He gasps for breath through his spit-slicked lips.

"Yes." He sighs and pulls you to him again.

"I am not Brendan." You say firmly.

Ste's blue eyes look honestly at you. "I know you aren't. You are dependable and trustworthy. I like you, Martin."

That is all you need to hear because your desire for Ste is greater than your common sense that is telling you that what you are about to do is fucked up.

He strips down slowly in front of you to his underwear. He is breathing quickly. You detect a bit of apprehension and you know why. The scars on his scalp and his legs tell the story.

You stare at them and feel terrible for what he went through during his abduction; the thing he suffered through that makes you hesitant to fuck him.

How is he going to react? Will he freak out after what happened?

"Sorry." He says quietly and climbs the bed covering his legs from your view by tucking them under him. "They are horrible aren't they?"

"No. They aren't."

You hesitate.

You don't want to hurt him. If you play this wrong, move too fast, touch him the wrong way or something, you could seriously fuck him up in the head.

"We don't have to do this Ste. This is a big step."

"I want to." He says crawling to the edge of the bed in his boxers. He reaches out to you and begins to undo the buttons on your shirt. You take it off and he raises an eyebrow at your physique so you flex your pecks at him.

"Like that?" You ask with a cheeky grin.

He grins coyly. "Yeah."

You strip to your underwear. You are conscious of your frame compared to his. You are a heavyweight to his super featherweight. You don't want that to intimidate him so you sit down next to him and face him.

"I want you to tell me if I am going too fast, okay?"

He nods and lays a hand on your chest running a single finger down until it teases the top of your underwear. He kisses you and then self-consciously confesses what you already suspected,

"I haven't done this in months, so..."

You grab his hand in yours. "It's fine."

You are dry mouthed.

This almost feels like a first time and in some ways it is because it marks the beginning of a new chapter in both your lives.

Ste wraps his arms around your shoulders and kisses you again, soft and sensual. He tugs at you encouraging you to lie down with him until eventually you are on top of him. You explore him, kissing and sucking; teasing his nipples until he comes off the bed like a primed bow. He sighs and gasps a symphony of erotic sounds that make you instantly hard. Both his hands comb through the back of your hair as you take your lips south, over lightly tanned skin and a smattering of scanty fair chest hair. You dip your tongue into his belly button before taking a trip down his treasure trail towards his groin.

You are introduced to his tattoo which rests on his left hip; a bizarre incongruous design of a star with a wing either side. Against your better judgement you love it or maybe you love the man who owns it. You start to work your mouth over it but he grips your hair into a fist and pulls you off him.

"No. Not there." He whispers through closed eyes.

You are surprised at his reaction. His hand in your hair fucking hurts. You pull it away and your lips move away from his hip to kiss a trail over the waistband of his boxers, a warning of what you want to do next.

His breathing accelerates further and he holds both your hands in his as yours pull his underwear down. You are not sure if he is encouraging you or stopping you so you look up at his face. His eyes are still closed with his head thrown back.

"Okay?" You ask.

"Yeah." Ste sighs. "Definitely."

You run a soothing hand over his chest and down his abdomen. He groans in response so you tug his pants off him and toss them aside. His erect cock springs up in front of you, begging for attention.

His body is rigid with his legs clamped together. You gently kiss up from the inside of his knees upwards. He relaxes as you approach his groin again. Nothing like a bone melting blowjob to relax someone. You work his head with your tongue, worrying the underside of his well proportioned dick and tasting the precum in his slit. You lick him like a lollypop and then take him all into you, nice and slow, until you hope he starts craving more. He encourages you by slowly thrusting into you and groaning in pleasure.

You lap at his heavy balls, taking them each into your mouth until he moans. He parts his leg so that you can stuff your face against his groin and inhale his hot musky scent.

That's it. You need to fuck him. Now. You take the tilt in his pelvis up towards you and his now splayed legs as consent to proceed.

With little warning you push his legs apart further and up so that you get a view of his pink beautiful opening. You spit on your fingers and rub them against his hole, feeling the slipperiness and your rising anticipation.

You have made a mistake.

You have forgotten to be slow and gentle.

Ste freaks out.

"No!" He screams and pushes you away forcefully. "Get off me!"

You pull away in shock. He scampers away from you, jumping off the bed before you have time to make sense of what is going on.

When you see him pulling on his clothes quickly with trembling hands, you get it.

Shit. He must have had a flashback.

He runs out of the room and you follow him.

"Ste! Stop! I am not going to hurt you." You say as calmly and gently as possible while your heart races.

He turns round in the living room and looks back at you blankly. He lifts a halting arm out towards you. He is sweating. Flushed.

"Don't come any nearer, Marty." He says anxiously. "Seriously."

You stop where you are. You lift both hands up. "Okay. I won't. Just please calm down."

He grips his throat and looks like he is labouring to breathe. "I... can't..."

He is hyperventilating.

"I am not him, Ste. You are safe. I am not going to hurt you. Now please take some slow deep breaths."

He eventually does what you say and collapses into the sofa flopping his head back and closing his eyes. He is still shaking uncontrollably. "I had a flashback."

Like you thought. You shake your head and run your fingers through your hair in exasperation. "I knew this was a bad idea."

Ste says. "Maybe I am not ready yet."

"No." You agree. "But I'll get someone to help you. A therapist I trust."

He looks across the living room at you. "What about you?"

You smile. "I thought you fired me. Besides having your boyfriend as your therapist is a conflict of interest."

He frowns for a second before he gets it.

The smile he gives you is so powerful it makes you ignore the sharp stab of pain over the fact that you are going to hurt Toby tonight and tell him that things are over.

XOXO

It takes a further three months of gentle coaxing and encouragement to get to the point of anal penetration with Ste. You gradually build a trust between you that reduces Ste's skittishness and open him up until the day he silently walks you to bed and takes initiative to get you both naked.

You then fool around in a long hot session of foreplay that you have come to accept as the main event. He knows how to work your cock with his mouth and hands like nobody's business and you reciprocate in kind. But then Ste surprises you. He goes to his side table. Your brain nearly short-circuits when you see the condom and lube bottle in his hand.

He rips the packaging off, put it on you silently and squirt some lube on you. He pumps your cock a few times feeling the firm weight of it in his hands and sizing it up.

Over months you have supported him through 'fingering' exercises. You know that he is trying for you; seeing whether he can work himself up to allowing you to fuck him. He can get to three of his own fingers sliding in and out of him and shoot a load of spunk while you blow him at the same time.

But his hole is a no go zone for any part of your anatomy until today. He climbs on top of you as you lie flat on your back, straddling your hips.

He squirts some more lube onto his fingers and he carefully fingers himself getting himself ready. He flinches just slightly as he opens himself up for you.

You want to say something but you don't know what. You want nothing more than to fuck him but you are also worried that he will not maintain the look of ecstasy on his face when it is you trying to penetrate him.

You grit your teeth as his naked thighs encircle yours, his hand firmly holds the base of your cock and guides the tip of it to his hole.

You have to bite hard on your lower lip as you feel yourself enter him slowly. He stops once during his downward push onto you to exhale slowly and accept a kiss from you.

"I love you, Martin." He whispers for the first time to you.

Finally.

Finally you hear the words you have been craving from him probably since you met him.

You wrap him in your arms.

"I love you too." You said.

XOXO

Present Day...

"I love you, Brendan."

Those were Ste's words to you, his fiancé, while you fucked him in your hotel room just a couple of hours ago. He said them while you were about to cum and declare what he knew already; that he was all you wanted, your everything.

But before you had a chance, Ste said he loved his spineless bastard of an ex while your dick was still buried deep in him.

What happened after was a blur. All you know is that you couldn't look at him. You had to get out of there.

You must have got up, cleaned up and got dressed, ignoring his apologies and claims that it was a mistake; that he only loved you.

Fuck that. His Freudian slip told you plenty about where his thoughts were when he was intimate with you.

'I'm going to Temple Bar.' You said as you grabbed your wallet and hotel key. 'Don't wait up.'

"So that is how I ended up here." You slur while sitting at the bar of the Foggy Dew, a lively pub in the Temple Bar area of Dublin that promises live music tonight. You are almost 'fall over' drunk and yet you are still going strong with the shots. You are struggling to remember how you ended up meeting your companion who sits next to you in rapt interest.

He has told you a couple of times to call time on your drinking.

You have ignored him.

"Shit!" He says and takes a swig of the same beer he has been nursing for the last hour. "That's terrible!"

"Yeah." You say. You have just revealed what happened between you and Ste to a complete stranger. Something must have made you think it was okay to be open and honest with him but you can't remember what that is.

You take in his appearance. He is probably a student at the one of the local Universities. Trendy dresser. Expensive clothes designed to looked worn in. Cute, yes, in a ruffle-his-hair-and-pinch-his-cheek kind of way, but surely too young to offer you any constructive advice on what to do about Ste.

Still it is his company that has kept you from running back to your fiance over the last hour.

"Mate, I don't know what I'd do if my bloke called out some other guy's name while we were shagging." He takes another swig of his beer and adds, "Bummer."

You look at the line of empty shot glasses in front of you as you prop up the bar and indicate the barman to pour you another. You look at the time. You have been gone from the hotel for a total of three hours. Maybe you should go back. Talk to Ste.

"I think I'm going to get going." You say as you throw some notes on the bar to pay for your drinks once you have knocked back the one you are served. "Thanks for listening."

"Don't go." The student says and places his hand on your elbow. "Stay. I am going on stage in a minute for my set and I am a pretty awesome singer so."

"I've got to sort things out with Ste." You slur.

He grins at you. "Look, you can do no such thing in your state. You are pissed as a fart and Ste could do with stewing for a little longer after that slip of the tongue. What was he thinking. You are cute! And you can't leave me now anyway. My mates promised me they would come but it looks like they've all bailed out on me. How shit would it be if I had zero support in the audience? You owe me after I've being there for you!"

He gives you a cheeky grin.

You are nearly swayed by his argument when you hear someone shout,

"Oi, Freddie!"

So that is your confidant's name. Freddie turns to who is calling him. A small group of young men and women approach you and fist pump and hug your friendly stranger. One of the guys lays a tender kiss on Freddie's lips.

"Hey babe." Freddie says before wrapping an arm around the guy's waist. "About time too, people! I thought you weren't going to show."

"Who's your friend?" His boyfriend asks.

Freddie looks at you and raises an eyebrow. You smile and extend your hand for a handshake. "Martin. Hi. Drunk and alone."

They shake your hand in turn while Freddie makes introductions. "This is my boyfriend Dan and my best mate Brady and his girl, Aoife. Siobhan and Trotter. They are my best mates in the whole world."

"Aw, dude!" The guy Freddie called Brady says. "You are making me blush!" He mocks.

There is something familiar about him; like you have seen him before. He turns to you with an open smile and says,

"It's Declan. Freddie likes calling Aiden and me by our surnames for some reason."

"Oh." A rumble of uneasiness begins in the pit of your stomach. Declan Brady. He can't be related to the Brady you know, surely? That would be too much of a coincidence.

You have a brief chat where you establish that they are all childhood friends who are now students attending universities in and around Dublin.

Freddie gets summoned to the stage by the pub's owner.

"Um, so are ye going to stay?" Freddie asks you when you make a move to leave.

"No, your friends are here so-"

"Okay." He pulls you into a hug and whispers. "Hope things work out one way or the other with Ste."

You nod curtly. The group of friends are nice enough to wave bye to you as you make your way to the door. However, you stop before you leave and hide behind a tall house plant when you overhear them talking about you. You peek through the leaves.

"Fucking hell, Fredstar! We can always count on ye to chat up the hottest guy in town." One of the girls says.

"I wasn't chatting him up!" He says with a grin while pulling his boyfriend into a hug. "I got here two hours ago to get the set ready and sound check. When I was done I got bored until I spooted Martin all alone, drinking the bar dry and looking like the end of the world was nigh."

"Looking all broody and sexy!" Aoife says.

Freddie grins, "I was being nice, okay guys! The poor bloke was in a world of pain."

"What's his problem?" Declan asks. "Can't handle how hot he is on a daily basis?"

"Ha ha!" Freddie says drily, "Actually, it's relationship trouble, if ye must know. His bloke called out some ther blokes name during sex. Some seriously fucked up shit."

"Shit!" They all say in unison.

"That's messed up." Declan says shaking his head in shock.

"He's gay?" Siobhan asked in disappointment.

You will Freddie to not say another world. He nods in answer.

"Hey, Dec, is yer pa coming?" Aiden asks his friend.

You prick up your ears.

"Dunno." The tall young man with raven hair and blue eyes replies. Is he related to Brendan? His physical resemblance and name are convincing evidence. "Doubt it. He'll come up with some excuse, knowing him."

"Pity. Your dad is a silver fox, mate." Freddie sighs.

"That's me pa you are talking about!" Declan says with a grossed out expression.

"Freddie, I haven't got all day, mate! Let's get the show going." The pub owner shouts over at him impatiently.

"Coming. Soz." The student says, then to his boyfriend. "Tell Dec I'm right, Dan!"

Dan grins and addresses Declan. "He's right, Dec, Brendan Brady is one hot DILF!"

Your stomach bottoms out. You feel sick. That Declan kid is Brendan Brady's son.

You stumble into the dark night and pray that Freddie or Declan don't put two and two together and come up with a link between you, Ste and Brendan.

You eventually wave a taxi down and ask the driver to take you to a club with late opening hours.