Thanks for the amazing reviews.
I've had to split this again. Properly going to be 3 or 4 chapters. I'm terrible for faffing around with things if I don't post them. So sometimes I just have to post them to stop myself.
He wonders along the metal gangway with half an eye on the stage where Jack is working the pole to a few of the early evening customers, slow steady nothing flash it still looks good. Minimum effort for maximum effect, what they were all looking for. The little short cuts that made their jobs easier. He knocks at the door and waits.
"Steven." Brendan states holding the door, the way his eyes flick over his face, what he could possibly if he let himself dare think that way be Brendan being pleased to see him again. "How are you?"
"Good thanks." He thought he had Brendan right in his head, the images that he could conjure up but he knows now that he'd missed things, that what he could imagine wasn't anywhere close to as good as the real thing. Not that it matters he reminds himself sharply.
"Something I can help you with?"
"I was wondering if it'd be alright to come back a week early, ignition went on the car…"
Brendan nods and rocks off the wall.
"Night only shifts?"
"I can do a few days as well."
"No café?"
"Janet got someone else for the Christmas rush." He shrugs. It wasn't like he could hold it against her. She had a business to run, she couldn't hold the job open for him when he could only commit to two weeks. "And Pablo wanted me to work all hours so I'm not at the hotel." Pablo wanted him to work ridiculous hours for pittance in the name of experience like he had been all term only without the college he'd be working seven days a week. He'd never see his kids and there was every chance he'd have been working Christmas day. He's not missing watching Leah and Lucas opening their presents to get shouted at no matter how much he might learn.
Brendan frowns at him a little.
"I've been working at the Altair."
"Good food." He can detect genuine appreciation in Brendan's tone and he wonders idly if he'd cooked for him at some point.
"Chef's a sadistic perfectionist bastard."
Brendan laughs a little, then strides around him to his desk and pushes the foam across.
"Need my ID?" He looks up from writing his name.
"Cute." Brendan gives him a sarcastic smile. "Do you need me to go through the rules?"
"No I think I can remember them."
"Indulge me."
"No drinking. No drugs. No boyfriends. No extra's. No leading on customers."
"Very good." Pat on the head, aren't you a good boy. He snorts a little and covers it with a cough.
"Any chance I'm going to be allowed to work the private rooms?" Any chance Brendan's going to let him do his job properly, trust him alone with customers, show him that he's realised that what happened didn't happen with everyone, or anyone. He had never kissed a customer in a private room. Why did he have to start with his boss? Just because he fancied him. He'd fancied loads of customers and never had that problem before. Hadn't let himself get carried away.
"I'd rather keep you where I can see you." Like he's some kid that doesn't know what he's doing but what did he expect? Brendan wasn't going to trust him after that kind of error.
"How are your kids?" Brendan asks.
"They're good… How are yours?" He can't help the bitterness that creeps into his tone.
"Common knowledge is it?"
"Just heard that's all." He shrugs. He doesn't want to drop anyone in it.
"They're very well thank you… Can you start tonight?"
"If you want me to?"
Brendan nods firmly and hands him the list of house rules. None have changed. It's just the done thing, he can't came ignorance when he'd signed them to say he'd read them.
"Welcome back."
He drops his bag into the dressing room on any piece of bench that's spare, checks the running order on the wall. Two stage dances. One with Dodger to Die another day. The other with Simon to I write sins not tragedies (remix) he sighs. So much for avoiding the complicated stuff.
He frowns at the weird atmosphere that seems to be surrounding him. He can't put a finger on it. There's just something off. A strain that isn't normally there.
He sees the reason as he walks in from the shower room. Tall, dark, well built, tanned. New. It always shifts the dressing room when a stranger enters. Especially one that will be going for a headliner from the look of him. He concentrates on getting his gear out of his bag and making sure that he has the right coloured shorts for the dances that he's meant to be doing.
"Are you new too?" He turns to face the man. "I'm Tom."
"Ste and no I'm not new." He's shaking with nerves and wringing his hands in stark contrast to the rest of the dressing room who are completely relaxed, reading magazines or chatting away. "First night?"
"Can you tell?"
"Yeah." It pretty obvious.
"Just don't want to mess up you know?" Tom sits down next to him with his eyes down. He looks around no one is paying the slightest bit of attention to the rookie's plight, just like it was when it was his first night.
"Confidence, eye contact and rhythm are all you need to think about." That's what he'd learned it all came down to.
"I can't even work the pole." Tom sighs.
"Are you doing pole work?" He hadn't done pole work on his first night, it had been weeks before he did that.
"No."
"So what are you worrying for?" He frowns. Why worry about doing something that he wasn't expected to do? He does the rounds asks how people are doing. Regains his middling position. Tom seems to have latched on to him. A little bit of kindness and now he was following him around. He wouldn't last long if he didn't find some self-confidence, the dressing room was not a place for the faint hearted, it required a thick skin and a sharp mouth at times.
"Two on stage Steven." Simon states and he frowns at him using his full name. Maybe Brendan was rubbing off on him in more ways than one. He ignores the jealousy that threatens to rise. He's got no right to be jealous. "Someone's popular with the right people."
"What's a matter Simon three not getting you enough?"
"Alright kitten put your claws away." Simon gives him a smug look, then looks over his shoulder, he glances Tom's right there. Simon narrows his eyes a fraction. "Careful who you cosy up to."
He shakes his head and lets it go. If Simon's in one which he seems to be he's not going to get into it over anything. There's no telling where it would end, although he's pretty sure he'd be the one out the door. Benefits of fucking the boss.
He goes to talk to Dodger about the routine, make sure he remembers it right or if anything's changed. He goes through a couple of moves on the backstage pole to make sure he can still get the grip right on a swing around.
"I'm so nervous."
He sighs and ignores him. He doesn't know how he's managed not to drop him by now. He's ignored him for nearly an hour. Finally Gary calls Tom out onto the floor and the dressing room settles back down.
"I give him an hour." Jack states putting down a ten pound note.
"Five." Harry puts down his ten.
"Two nights."
"A week."
"Two hours."
"Do you have to be mean?" Doug asks. "He's just like we were when we started out."
"And when we put the bets on for you it was for minuets not hours." Jack replies.
He can remember that. They'd all been out of pocket to JD who put Doug down to last three hours. He'd lasted eighteen months so far. It didn't mean anything. He knows that they gave him a week because even though he'd been shaking he'd still bitten back a few times.
He slides down to his knee's and Dodger takes control of his head, he looks over the crowd out of the corner of his eye checks to make sure that they're doing a decent job of keeping them happy. He makes eye contact with a middle aged suited man sitting by himself watching intently. Dodger taps the back of his head. He's got to keep focused. He runs his hands up the back of his legs from ankle to arse and falls back arching as he goes.
"That was amazing." Tom states. "How long have you been doing this?"
"A while." He replies.
"Ste table 9."
He leaves Tom standing there and heads out onto the floor.
He works the floor getting himself back into the swing of things. He starts slow and gives himself time to build up he may not get tipped as much for not giving his best early, he needs to pace himself as he gets used to doing it again.
"How's your shadow?" Brendan shocks him as he stands looking over the floor taking him break and avoiding Tom and his hundreds of questions. He's sick of him. He can't help him find whatever it is that he's looking for to be able to do this job.
He shrugs at Brendan.
"Seems to have taken a shine to you."
"I made the mistake of kindness." He sighs and rolls his shoulders to ease the tension that seems to have settled there.
"Dangerous." Brendan smiles a little.
He can see what he's looking at Tom working a bloke at a side table. He's too mechanical, too much about the moves.
"He's got a great body just hasn't got any feel for it." He picks at a few bits of peeling paint on the rail. "The bloke that taught me pole always said that you either have it or you don't and if you do have it you can be taught… He could fake it with some tricks."
"I always prefer the real thing." Brendan looks him over. He wishes he'd stop doing that. Flirting with him, tempting him when there's nothing on offer. "Breaks over... Money to be made."
"Yes boss." He gives a mock salute and heads back down pulling his hoodie off as he goes.
"How about you meet me later?" The man groans in his ear as he slides himself up and rocks back.
"I don't think so." He keeps moving, slower, harder.
"You know you want to." The man winks at him then gasps as he speeds up.
"Time." Gary states. He takes the money and the very generous tip. He thanks him and Gary directs him to another man sitting by himself. Colin. One of his regulars. Colin likes to unwind from his call centre job by having a lap dance and bitching about his day. Tonight though he's more interested in the lap dance than he usually is.
"You do it just right… That." Colin sits up a little taller when he rolls his hips slowly then pushes forward. "Oh, that is why they should have neon signs whenever you're working."
"Might not get much of my time everyone knows I'm here, there's only one of me."
"There… Harder… Yeah, maybe no sign just a text or some… something."
"Time."
The man that offered him the meet after work reappears at his side a little later when he's waiting for a drinks order to be put up for a table that he had been working.
"How about I give you a pass to my friend's club and when you get finished you can come by?"
"No thanks."
"You'd enjoy it I guarantee."
"He said no." Brendan states putting a couple of drinks on his tray. "Now go and sit down."
"Think about it." The man states and presses the ticket into the side of his shorts giving Brendan a look before walking away.
He pulls the ticket out of his shorts and looks it over, he knows the club from some of the lads in the back. It's good apparently. He wouldn't know. Between the kids, college and saving money the pub is his biggest night out.
"You going?" Brendan asks.
"Nope." He puts the ticket on the bar.
"Good you can do better."
"Ames says that every time I get dumped." He sighs leaning back against the bar.
"They don't know what they're missing."
"Suppose you would say that." He's fucking a dancer. He nods to Gary as he catches his gesture. "Back to the grind." He walks away, he can't help a quick glance over his shoulder. Brendan's looking at him but he looks confused instead of just watching his arse like he usually did. He had no problem with that, most the men in the club were checking out one another. It always made him feel good. The idea that maybe Brendan did actually fancy him back if only a little bit.
His thighs ache as he puts the last of his stuff in his bag. He'd had a good night. A few hundred quid and two phone numbers he wasn't going to call, a ticket to a club.
"Ste." Tom jogs to catch up with him as he walks down the back alley so he can get back out onto the street far enough away not to get hassle.
"You survived then." Last time he had seen him he was entertaining Malcom, a regular that had to be told to sit on his hands most of the time but he'd seen Tom letting him get a little more hands on than he would ever have let him.
"Yeah, got into it. Look I know there's this dressing room thing… but I was wondering if you'd be up for giving me a few lessons. Tonight on stage you were brilliant and I want to be able to do that…"
"Look…"
"Please I just want to get better. I know I've got loads to learn but no one will even speak to me and I know you don't like me." He rolls his eyes and sighs.
"I don't not like you, I'm just trying to work."
"So help me and I'll stop pestering you. Please. Jack's great, he's taught me loads of moves… A couple of hours just give me some pointers. I talked to Mitzeee and she was really keen, said she'd pay you."
He's trapped then and Tom's not as innocent and in need of help as he's making out. Talking to Mitzeee before asking him put him in a bit of a tight spot. If he doesn't help it won't just annoy her, it'll piss off the dressing room. Everyone went to everyone for help or advice, he didn't show willing to help out the rookie when he asked him and it's one of those unwritten rules he's breaking. However competitive it is.
"A couple of hours when?"
"So you'll help me."
"Yeah, when?"
"I wasn't sure you'd go for it so I didn't sort anything but I'll let you know. Here, I'll give you my number."
Tom arranges with Mitzeee to use the club in the morning before opening, Jim one of the barmen lets him in through the back. He sits on the stage for a bit checks his phone to see a message from Tom that he'll be twenty minutes late, his bus was cancelled. He rolls his shoulders. He may as well get warmed up and use the free pole time to practice before Tom expects him to be able to show him how it's done.
He drops his jogging bottoms, he can't work the pole without being able to grip. He stretches himself out and again using the pole to add more pull to his muscles. He starts slow, a few swings around getting his arms used to taking the tension, his weight then hooks his ankle and swings a few more times. Once he's got himself going and working he starts to add dips and flicks. It's strange working without the music from the speakers, with only the staff radio and the hum of the hoover to give him a rhythm to work from but it's freeing, different music with no set moves that he's had to learn.
He slides down the pole with his back to it, opens his legs at the bottom of the crouch and brings them back together as he rises. It doesn't feel quite right so he does it again but this time flicks his hips as he rises. He swings around using his calf to keep him a few inches from the ground wraps his arm around the pole, he hooks his thigh around making sure that he's secure before he rolls back. He lets go with one hand to check that he has the grip before he let's go with the other arching his back, feeling the tension through his abs. He presses his arse hard into the pole and lets himself lean further back until his fingers touch the stage. He looks towards the seats as he would in a performance to find Brendan looking at him, the shock of being watched when he didn't realise he was especially not by his boss makes him twist to the side putting his palm down to touch the floor so he doesn't fall off. He pushes up through his arm and unhooks his legs.
"I'm waiting for Tom, I was just…"
"Anne told me. Nothing better to do?" Play with his kids, do the Christmas cake for Mike that Amy insisted he do as well as one for themselves, do the house work. He had a list of things he could be doing rather than this.
"Plenty but he asked and I need the practice."
"Didn't look like it from here."
"Yeah well I can't put a hand down on stage." It looks wrong and lazy especially when he knows how it should look and he wants to do it right.
"Sorry I'm late." Tom strides in without the good grace of looking rushed. Brendan walks away. Conversation over then.
He doesn't get very far with Tom, he knows that he hasn't got it and when he tries to teach him the tricks that he's picked up on how to fake it that doesn't help. He doesn't know if Tom's expecting miracles or something because if he is then he's out of luck. He'll properly get away with not being any good because of his body and it makes him a little bitter about things. He has to be good at what he does because he doesn't have the muscles to use as a distraction, people will pay just to touch Tom's body.
He doesn't bother going home after they've finished. It seems pointless to go home only to come back a few hours later so he sits in the dressing room with the radio on playing a game on his phone.
"Thought you had gone." Brendan says as he stands in the doorway.
"No point."
"I'm going for lunch do you want anything?"
"I'm fine."
"I'll need to lock the doors."
He rolls his eyes and sits up.
"You want to kick me out then just say that. I'll go and get a coffee or something." He grabs his wallet out of his bag. He walks towards the door but Brendan stands in his way. "Thought you wanted me to go." There's a second when he thinks that Brendan's going to say something but then he steps aside.
"I just can't work him out." He says as he's looking through a few different pair of shorts.
"Why do you want to? He's our boss." Doug replies. "How cares? Suppose you would be bothered though."
"Why's that?"
"Well you are the only one he won't let work the back rooms after whatever happened that made him fire you." He knows Doug's digging on behalf of the entire dressing room. They all want to know what he did to the boss to get fired then barred from the back rooms.
He doesn't say reply and Doug catches on that he's not going to get the story.
"Those." Doug states pointing to the black shorts. "You need to class yourself up a bit."
"I am classy."
Doug snorts.
"Look at what you're wearing."
"What's wrong with it?"
"You earn hundreds a night and you come out shopping in a track suit."
"It's comfortable." He shrugs. He doesn't spend his money on clothes he's got more pressing things to buy like Amy's Christmas present. He'd only let Doug drag him into the Men's clothes shop because he'd dragged him around the perfume shop.
"Store security have been tracking us since the door they think you're a shop lifter."
"That's their problem."
"Those and I think those." Doug pulls another pair of shorts down from the rail. "They'll suit you."
He looks at the light blue shorts.
"Damp spots are going to take a bit of covering." He always lap dances in darker colours.
"I've got a pair. We'll match when we dance together."
"Er no." It's bad enough people mistake them without having the problem of the requests being difficult to sort out, all physical descriptions have the bouncers trying to work out who the customer wants. It's why he started making sure that when he dances with Doug he makes sure that the tattoo on his hip is on show. Made it easier.
He buys a pairs of the black ones though. He's never really worn black for work before. It'll be something new for the regulars if nothing else.
"Ste Mr Carter would like you tonight." He frowns at Mitzeee as he lays out his stuff on his bit of bench. He knows that name.
"Stock broker, tattoo on his wrist… Always asks for you." She states and he catches on. The one that likes him to sit next to him between dances, pouring his drinks for him and basically being his personal dancer for the night, pays him very well, his tips are incredible.
"Yeah fine." It's not like he can turn that kind of money down and he quite likes Jerome, he's alright. Young, successful mostly lonely. Too busy for a relationship so he doesn't bother having them. He'd told him that more than once.
She crosses him off the stage list and rearranges who is dancing with who while he pulls on his new black shorts, slips them on and waits to get called through.
"Then I was in Hong Kong, Australia, New York… Don't think I've stayed in one place longer than a month for the last year." Jerome states as he fills his glass for him. Only the best champagne. He always asks where he's been. Takes the chance to see how the other half live the ones that don't need to worry about bills or that taking a holiday would break the budget although most of Jerome's travelling he knows is for work.
"How's college?"
He talks about working in the Altair, about the skills he's learning. He knows that Jerome likes that. In the same way Jerome's life is exotic to him, his life interests him. The simple things. Jerome's a great believer in them. He doesn't tell him about his kids or anything too private because he's still just a customer.
"Your boss says no private room, have you been naughty?"
"Always." He smiles and Jerome places a hand around behind him tapping the beat on the sofa behind his head.
"Dance for me." Jerome states pulling out a wad of cash and placing it beside him. "Slow."
He's already danced for him twice so he cuts out a bit of the tease and gives him the more personal, closer dance, placing his knees either side of his, slow sway of his hips, letting his hands touch his neck, shoulders, chest. Taking his time, Jerome asks to start placing the notes in his shorts, dragging it out… Jerome knows better than to ping his shorts, instead he places the note against his abdomen and gently presses it into place.
"Having fun Steven?" Brendan's voice is tight as he gets to the bar for another bottle of champagne. He pushes his money into Gary's hand as subtly as he can.
"Another ice bucket and a fresh glass." He adds to Lily as she brings him the bottle.
"I asked if you are enjoying yourself." Brendan demands his attention.
He shrugs. There are worse things he can be doing for this kind of money.
"Yeah, he's always alright with me." He replies, offering Lily a smile of thanks.
"You two look very cosy."
"I'm keeping a high paying customer happy. Thought you'd be pleased."
Brendan taps the bar and walks away. He rolls his eyes and gets Gary to carry the ice bucket while he takes the bottle and the glass over.
Every time he looks towards the bar after that Brendan is glaring daggers at him, he shakes it off and ignores it.
"Try some." Jerome offers him the glass.
"Can't. Boss won't let us drink."
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
"I can't." He pushes the glass away from his mouth.
"Just a little. Let me spoil Cava for you."
"Can't I'd rather drink larger anyway." Jerome laughs into his neck. He gently pushes him off a little. Jerome's past tipsy and heading for just plain drunk. He doesn't let go, laughs and pulls him closer.
"Problem here?" Gary asks. He looks up. It is and it isn't. It is because Jerome's getting too hands on, it isn't because he knows there's no harm in it.
"Book Mr Carter a taxi. Steven my office." Brendan snaps the last at him.
He sighs and stomps up the office. He doesn't know why Brendan is constantly picking on him. Constantly jumping in when he's got things under control.
"You just can't stick to the rules can you Steven." Brendan slams the door so hard he jumps.
"He was drunk. We were going to sort it."
"I've heard that once too often… Don't lead the customers on."
"I wasn't." He exclaims.
Brendan shakes his head at him.
"I wasn't."
"Go home."
"What?"
"Go home." The way Brendan growls at him makes him sure that he's not going to get anywhere on changing his mind.
"Can I have my money then?"
Brendan glares at him. He's not leaving without his money. Brendan calls Gary up and takes the wedge of cash off him. He watches in fascination and growing excitement at the kind of Christmas he can give Leah and Lucas with the money.
"Fifteen hundred minus my cut." Brendan states pushing the notes into a brown envelope.
He beams as he flicks through the money.
"Goodnight Steven." Brendan states coldly and he remembers that he was being sent home like some kind of naughty school kid. He resists the urge to argue with him about it again. He knows he's not going to get anywhere. He doesn't know why Brendan has such a low opinion of him.
"Heading home?" Tom asks as he's packing his bag up.
"Yeah."
"I need some regulars like yours." Tom points to the envelope.
He sighs and double checks he has everything. He stuffs the money into the bottom of his bag and zips it up. He says goodnight to everyone on his way out and heads towards the back alley so he can cut across and back onto the main street further away from the club. He doesn't need the hassle of anyone recognising him.
As he walks he feels someone walking behind him before he hears the footsteps echoing around him. He shrugs it off until he looks up towards the main street to find two people walking towards him then the bad feeling starts to creep in. He has a look over his shoulder and the person behind him stops.
Shit.
A car pulls up at the curb at the top off the alley.
"Did you think I'd forgotten about you?" Danny calls from the car.
He turns to run and the man grabs him around the waist he kicks at his shins and takes off as soon as he loosens his grip he runs as fast as he can back the way he came, as he rounds the corner he pushes off again on the final sprint to the back door. Brad's not there, he bangs on the door as hard as he can and Simon opens the door. He pushes them both inside and slams the door.
"What's going on?"
"Danny." He pants. "Where's Brendan?"
Simon locks the door and goes into the side room calling for Brad as he runs along the corridor and up the stairs.
He bangs his head against the wall behind him.
"Are you hurt?" Brendan demands from along the corridor storming towards him.
"No I'm fine." Brendan drops down in front of him and looks him over. "I'm fine." He insists.
"Ste does Danny have your address?" Simon asks leaning against the wall.
"No." He always gave Danny his old address. He didn't want a bloke like that knowing where he lived. Where his kids lived. He knew enough about him when he went to work there that he didn't trust him an inch. "I always lied."
"Knew you weren't just a pert arse." Simon smiles at him then turns his attention to Brendan. "I think it was the new boy."
"He still here?" Brendan demands.
"Nope. Left just after Ste."
"Find him."
"I want you to wait in the office. Don't leave until I come and get you." Brendan looks him in the eye until he nods, the squeezes his shoulder before he starts walking.
He sends Amy a text to make sure she knows that he's going to be late. He doesn't want her worrying. He leans back in the chair and taps the arms of the chair until he can't stand just sitting about. He heads out on the gangway and sits with his back against the wall to watch the last dredges of the stage performances. He feels easier where he can see people and use them as a distraction.
"Do you ever do as you're told?" Brendan offers his hand and pulls him up. "We can't find Tom. Danny's long gone by the looks of it. We think that he was after your money."
"Then why didn't he just mug me? Why did he have a car and three blokes trying to catch me?" He thought that Danny would let it go. He thought Brendan had made him.
"Don't worry about it." Easy for him to say. "Come on you're staying at mine. Can't lead Danny back to your kids." He nods. Danny's not allowed anywhere near his kids or Amy or his home. "Sure you're okay?"
"Yeah." No, but he's better than he could have been.
He fiddles with his lip while Brendan drives them through the streets.
"Why was he after me?" He knows that there's more going on than just his money.
"Don't worry about it." Brendan replies.
"I do though… I don't want Danny…"
"I said don't worry about it." Brendan snaps and he shuts up deciding that looking out the window is the safest option.
"This it?" He frowns as Brendan flicks his keys out of his pocket. The house isn't what he was expecting. He thought Brendan would own a big house or massive flat. The attached house maybe in a better part of town but it's still a bit, understated. Brendan struck him as flash. The car. His attitude. He didn't think he would a house so normal.
"Spare room upstairs on the left, bathroom straight across. Don't wait up."
"Where are you going?"
"I need to have a word with Huston."
"Brendan…" The look in Brendan's eye stops him asking him not to. They both know that Danny's dangerous. He swallow. "Don't get hurt."
Brendan frowns at him. Then nods and strides out the door.
He sighs and looks around. It's so tidy. All clean lines. A place for everything. Not even a newspaper out. There's a few framed photo's on the side. He gives them a brief glance before he gets a shiver up his back. He's prying when he shouldn't however curious he is. He sits on the sofa. There's no point going to bed when he knows he won't rest until he knows he can go home. All that falls by the ways side as he curls up with the throw from the back of the sofa to wait.
"Steven." He jerks awake to be greeted by Brendan. There's blood running from a cut on his temple but other than that he appears to be okay.
"Are you alright?" He pulls down the sleeve of his hoodie and presses it to the cut, pressing his hand into his neck to keep him steady. He feels his heartbeat under his fingers, strong, a little fast. He checks to make sure his eyes are clear, there's no concussion then turns his attention back to the cut.
"I'm fine." Brendan says low and rough.
"Danny?"
"Not so fine." He shivers a little. He doesn't know what he was expecting when Brendan went to see him it wasn't like men like Danny and Brendan used the police. They sorted things outside the law. "You don't need to worry about him. You can go home."
"Thanks." His fingers stroke the back of Brendan's neck of their own volition. To be this close to him again being allowed to touch him.
"Sorry I…" The press of lips against his own cuts him off. Brendan pulls back, looks over his face, leans forward again and takes his bottom lip between his own kissing it softly, slowly as starts to pull back again he follows using the hand on Brendan's neck, pulling him in, opening his mouth and running his tongue long Brendan's bottom lip until he takes control. Tongue invading his mouth. The intensity burns in his chest, the lust bubbles and boils under his skin. He curses and crawls at his shirt. The need for skin, close contact driving him. Brendan gets his t-shirt off first, pinning his wrists with it in his grasp. The procession, scorching his skin as he kisses his chest.
He aches as Brendan slides his hand down and fondles his rapidly hardening cock. Then stops and kisses him hard. He grinds up into Brendan's hand desperately needing friction.
"What a pretty mess I'll make of you." Brendan whispers against his lips then traces them with his tongue.