AN: Not sure how quick the next few will be. Thanks again for the reviews!
The room was pretty typical of a bed and breakfast. The walls, a dull shade of magnolia, were spotless and blank. In the centre was a double bed, made neat and tidy, and the furniture was light pine; wardrobe, table and two chairs, and a second door that probably lead to an en-suite. Sprawled in one of the chairs, face plastered with the most infuriating, triumphant smirk, sat Brady.
"Steven," he greeted.
Ste didn't say anything, as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. He didn't lock it, hoping to have an escape route should he need it. He kept his gaze just below Brady's face; he knew that was what Brady wanted, and Brady was leading this show.
"What?" sneered the Irishman, "no snarky comments? No shouting? No pretending you have any control?"
Still Ste stayed silent. Tears were seeping their way out of his eyes. It was taking a lot of effort not to let this evil man see him cry ptoperly.
"Look at yourself boy; a skinny streak of nothing."
The insult barely penetrated Ste's stupor.
Brady didn't seem to care. "Why have you come here boy?" he asked, leaning casually back in his chair.
"You know," Ste mumbled to the carpet.
The edge of Brady's mouth quirked up. "Maybe I'd like you to tell me, Steven. Was there something you wanted?"
Humiliation then. That was what Brady was after.
"I need it to stop," Ste told the floor. "Please."
"I'm gonna need more than that, Steven," smirked Brady.
Ste took a deep breath. "I need you not to destroy my life please."
Brady laughed a little. "What's it worth Steven? What would you give for me to stop it?"
Now they were getting to it.
"What do you want?" Ste asked resignedly.
"You never see my son again."
"Done," Ste had pretty much decided that one already, anyway.
"That easy?" Brady raised a surprised eyebrow.
Ste nodded, not quite trusting his voice as his heart broke.
"No begging?" taunted Brady, "no pleading? Nothing?" he stood, and stared right in the face. "Wow, not as in love as my son thinks, then."
Ste glared at him. "I'm a Dad!" he snapped, "and you have no understanding of love."
Brady put his head on one side, "And you, boy, have no understanding of being a man."
"Whatever," Ste snapped, "you'll make Paddy tell the truth?"
"When I get what I want."
Ste knew what that was, but pretended not to anyway. It was part of the dance. "You want me to call Brendan here and now? In front of you? He won't just let it stop there, anyway. He's never really given up before."
"He will this time," Brady growled. He sat back down on his chair and watched Ste appreciatively. "Take your clothes off, and lie on the bed."
It was almost laughable that after everything that had happened, Brady still brought it back to this. But this wasn't really about sex for the old man. It never had been. This was all about power. Brady craved it; over Brendan, over Ste, over his own Grandchildren. Manipulating Paddy hadn't just been a means to an end for him; it was a game in control, a power trip in itself.
Ste fidgeted with the bottom of his tee shirt, on the brink of following the instruction in defeat.
"I'm waiting Steven," Brady stated, as if he was discussing the weather.
Ste steeled himself, and pulled his tee shirt over his head, then glanced at Brady hoping this sign of submission would be enough for the old man. But Brady kept his expression expectant. It wasn't enough. Ste toed off his shoes, and then carefully took off his socks. He looked down at his jeans. Could he really do this?
He thought of Leah and Lucas growing up without a father. He could face anything Brady could throw at him for them.
He took off his trousers, and looked again at Brady. Same expression. He took off his boxers, and sat on the bed as gracelessly as he could.
Brady drank in the sight of his body slowly, savouring it like a fine wine. Ste kept his eyes on the floor, as Brady stood and walked to him. "Good boy," the old man cooed, "head bowed, still, submissive. Think of the misery we could have avoided if you'd just done this all those months ago, ey Steven?"
He stroked Ste's cheek, as Ste stared at the floor even more intensely, fighting his needs to fight or run. He was doing this for Leah and Lucas. There was nothing else left to save. Then Brady punched him on the abdomen. Ste almost threw up at the suddenness, though he'd had far worse from Brendan. He curled up and clutched his stomach.
"I want to rape you, Steven, not fuck a corpse. Wake up."
'What?' Ste thought, he'd wanted meek submission a few moments ago. Did he want him to fight now? Ste stood up, to see how he would react. Instantly, Brady knocked him back down with a hard shove. He put up his hands, but Brady grabbed his wrists and held them to the bed.
The violence was probably better really; Ste did not want to ever confuse this with Brendan when he looked back.
Brady roughly flipped him over, onto his front, and pulled his right arm into a painful twist behind his back. He cried out.
"That's it boy," Brady snarled, "beg for mercy." He twisted Ste's arm further, pulling a further cry from Ste's lips. Ste bit his lips, desperate to keep at least some dignity. He felt Brady fiddle at his own groin. Ste thought he must be undoing his trousers, and realised he wasn't even intending to use a condom. He heard the old man groan, and closed his eyes tight, and tried to block out the world.
The door flew open.
"Grand…"
Paddy halted mid word. Ste opened his eyes to stare at him. At twelve years old, how much of what he saw could he possibly understand? Ste tried to move, to hide his nakedness with the bed sheets, but Brady must have been in shock, as he kept a tight grip on Ste.
"What are you doing?" Paddy asked.
Brady's hands loosened, "Padraig…" he started, then let go of Ste, moving to Paddy, "if you say a word…"
Ste interrupted him, "Run home, Paddy! Now!" he shouted. At the words, Brady made a sudden lunge at the boy, but Paddy heard Ste. He ran. Ste dived for his clothes, but had barely found his boxers when suddenly Brady was on him again, punching him, and when he landed on the floor, kicking him. Ste curled into a ball and prayed it would all be over, soon.
