Day 42
Sleep is the only peace he has now.
When he's shaken awake he blinks at the light, his eyes immediately trying to drift shut again. Things happen when he's asleep. Wonderful, impossible things which never happen when he's conscious. He wants to go back to that place again, where nothing hurts.
The man standing before him won't let him.
Ethan may have been stripped of his policeman's badge, but Ste can see that the intimidation hasn't left him. He's not what he'd called scary, is shorter than most of your stereotypical coppers and has a baby face which speaks of not long being fresh out of University, but he knows how to stare someone down.
Ste's not going to be able to go back to sleep knowing that he's there, watching.
"Have you tried throwing pillows at him?"
"We're not five years old," Doug says, is looking at the wall and not directly at Ste to save him from feeling anymore like a rat in a cage.
"Punching him?"
"Ethan!"
"What? It might do him some good. Finally get some life back into him. Might even make him take a shower. I can smell him from here."
Ste sits up in bed at that. He's grown used to them talking about him as if he isn't in the room, but personal insults are a step too far. He sniffs at his t-shirt self consciously. He thinks back to the last time he washed himself from head to toe.
Three days.
He's spent the majority of the time in Doug's cell - his cell - only stepping out of it to have a few mouthfuls of food before returning underneath the covers. Despite Tony's best efforts to make him return to cookery classes, he hasn't been to a single one in weeks.
He feels pathetic, an invalid. He wants to shout at himself to do something, to have the courage and motivation to walk down the hallways again, to be able to visit Amy and not just listen to her talk about the kids and herself, can't share anything about his own life anymore because everything's gone.
Brendan's gone.
Every time he's mentioned it's like a punch to Ste's stomach, a wound that takes longer to heal than the one Brendan left on his back after he pushed him. The bruises took more than a week to go, eventually fading into nothingness. Ste had felt sick when he looked at them; sick because of what Brendan had done, and sick because the bruises were all he had left of him, and he desperately wanted to hold onto something.
"Brendan woke me up playing music - I could still be in bed right now," Ethan complains, his voice sounding like a high pitched whining noise that Ste wants to cut out.
Doug beckons Ethan to the corner, thinks he's out of earshot of Ste but he's wrong, he can still hear everything, like they're merely shouting in whispers.
"I'm sorry, but I didn't know who else to ask, okay? I mean I can hardly go to...you know."
"Tache man? Why not? He's the cause of all this mess. He did the same thing to Vinnie, remember? Slept with him, made him all googly eyed and then dumped his arse. Brady seems fucking right as rain, was whistling along to Johnny Cash and doing press ups when I left him. He's probably already beginning to search for his next victim."
"Right, lets have some breakfast," Ste says loudly, tossing back his bedsheets and making a grab for his trainers.
He can't stand to hear anything else.
He's taken to wearing some extremely shabby pajamas that he packed before he came here. He'd never worn them before in his old cell, not when he had someone who he wanted to impress, someone whose opinion meant everything to him.
Ethan and Doug turn round as he changes. Brendan would have watched him the entire time, would have looked him up and down, had Ste kidding himself that he was attractive, desirable. He misses that feeling, has been replaced by so much worthlessness that it feels like it's crippling him.
The moment he leaves the cell he feels panicked, wants to crawl his way back inside. He knows what he has to face when he's out here. Every day that he goes into the dining room he finds Brendan sitting alone, at a different table to his old one. Ste doesn't know what happened between him and Walker, no one does, but they've barely looked at each other lately.
Ste has scanned their faces for signs, to see if a single look has passed between them, has a masochistic desire to know if they're together again now that he and Brendan aren't.
But there's been nothing, and Brendan has never looked up to meet Ste's gaze. He's neglected his entire existence, and something in Ste feels like it's broken. The hope that he had that Brendan would come back to him has died.
His sentence is going to be finished in less than two months. He should be gasping to be released, but it terrifies him. His life feels like it's wrapped up in this place now, and he's not under any illusions as to what that life consists of. One person. One man.
He needs to kill what he's feeling.
It's why Ste makes a beeline for Walker the minute he sees him in the queue. He waits until Ethan and Doug are at their table, hopes that they'll be too caught up in conversation to notice anything suspicious. Talking to Walker is suspicious. No one ever goes to him for idle talk or chit chat.
You go to him for two purposes. To get alcohol. To get fucked.
Ste's got one in mind for today.
"Simon." He lowers his voice, nods his head for Walker to join him away from the crowd of men making a grab for trays and their breakfast.
Walker doesn't hesitate. He smiles at him curiously, and Ste's aware of his eyes traveling over his body when he turns around, can guess which area in particular his gaze is directed to.
He feels himself blush.
Walker waits for him to begin the conversation. A rare first.
Ste cuts to the chase. He's not in the mood for how was your day, isn't the weather nice, that's a lovely top you're wearing. He's never in the mood for that anymore, can't remember a time when he didn't feel this fucking miserable and bitter at the world, like he'd happily light a match and watch it explode.
"I heard you can get people booze."
Walker raises his eyebrows. Ste thinks he should get some kind of award for surprising a man who's unshockable.
"Is this for you?"
"Might be."
I plan on getting shitfaced, and you're the man with the keys to the kingdom.
"How did you hear about what I do?"
"People talk." Ste had overheard a group of lads discussing the moonshine they'd got from Walker, had tasted like the real thing according to them.
He'd thought nothing of it at the time, had no intention of getting involved in anything like that. He didn't want to forget, did he? He wanted to remember everything, every dirty laugh, every lopsided smile, every movement across his skin, every stroke of his moustache.
Now he's going to bury those memories and let them go up in flames.
"Can you get me some?" Ste asks, isn't so much a question as a demand.
"Yes."
He breathes a small sigh of relief, already beginning to feel some of the pain in his chest numbing.
"At a price."
Fucking Walker.
"I don't have any money." His allowance from participating in cookery classes has already dried up. "Please, Simon." He croons it, Simon, and sees Walker falling for it, his tongue all but hanging out of his mouth.
Before Ste came here he'd never had to use his sexuality in such a way, would never have dreamed of using it to manipulate. Brendan has taught him that sex is power, that his body is something that he can use to get him the things he wants.
He feels a sudden sense of strength that's been so desperately lacking ever since Brendan transferred out of his cell and his life.
"Okay sweetheart."
Ste lets out the closest thing to a smile that he's had in weeks.
"But there is one condition. Not cash -" he says when Ste's about to protest. "You."
Ste's Adam's apple bobs up and down, feels like it's trying to escape from his body it's so damn strained, and Walker watches the movement with dark eyes.
"Simon, I don't...I told you, I'm not going to sleep with you."
Walker lets out one of his customary high laughs, looks at Ste as if he's his entertainment that's been wheeled in from the circus. "Oh darling, you're not suggesting that I was saying -" He breaks off to laugh again. "Gosh no!"
Ste looks at him in confusion, is sure that he must be flushing. Going weeks without being with Brendan has made the shyness return to him. He can't believe the things he did to him, the things that he allowed to be done to him. It belongs to another Ste from a different lifetime now.
"That's a very presumptuous thing to say, Ste. Thinking that I want to fuck you." Walker takes a step closer, staring so intently at his lips that it makes Ste's heart hammer a mile a minute.
For one single second he's sure that Walker's about to kiss him, and there's nowhere to run.
"Yeah well you did in the past, didn't you?"
"Perhaps I've changed. I just hope there are no hard feelings between us."
Ste rolls his eyes. "No Simon, I don't think I'll top myself because you don't want me."
"No, I mean about you and Brendan. About me and Brendan."
Ste wonders whether he's digging up the past on purpose. Walker must have laughed at how clueless he'd been, how Brendan had lied to him and he'd been too stupid to figure it out.
"Nah. Ancient history, isn't it?" He tries to sound unaffected but ends up reminding himself of Lucas when he's in a sulk.
"Good. Not that I don't enjoy when you're angry with me."
Ste doesn't sense he's joking. Whatever he does seems to be a come on to Walker, more so if he tries to reject him and strenuously deny there's nothing there. There's excitement in his eyes now, looks like he's fucking loving this.
"Are you going to give me the booze or not?" If Walker enjoys him being mouthy then that's what he's going to get.
"Will you spend a night in my cell? Just you and me, drinking. Nothing else, I promise."
"For some reason I don't trust your promises," Ste says wryly.
Walker is like the masked man in a horror film who protests his innocence, I promise I won't hurt you, before he sticks the knife in and twists it deeply.
"Please. I'm on my own there without Fox, and I'm ever so lonely."
Ste laughs then, sounds so strange to his ears that he almost believes it hasn't come from him. It's Walker's fault, staring at him with a mock sad expression, his lips puckered to give him the appearance of a stroppy child, or perhaps a very large fish.
"Alright," Ste says, still finds he's laughing and doesn't know whether it feels good or frightening. "Just...give it to me now, yeah? Then I'll come to yours tonight."
Yours. Like he's going round to Walker's house to watch a film and drink some wine. Like it's a fucking date.
Oh God.
"You want it now? It's not even ten o'clock."
Ste is sick of all these questions. He's had what feels like thousands already from Doug and Ethan. What happened with you and Brendan, why did he switch cells, did he hurt you? Every time he sees Amy he has to dodge her onslaught, you look so tired, are you not sleeping? You've lost weight Ste. You don't look happy.
He doesn't want to have to defend himself anymore.
"I need it," he answers honestly.
For a moment he thinks Walker's going to take back his offer, is going to turn against him like everyone else has. That he's going to try and be some kind of good fucking samaritan and do what's right for him, as though anyone knows what that is better than Ste.
He'd momentarily forgotten that Walker isn't like everyone else. What's right and what's best isn't of importance of him.
"Give me twenty minutes and I'll get it for you. Can you make Doug scarce in your cell?"
Ste nods eagerly. The last thing he wants is for Doug to be there and give him a lecture. Doug has Lynsey, has someone who gives him a reason to want to wake up every morning. Ste's relying on that to distract him.
Walker holds his hand out, binding their agreement. Another contract that he wants Ste to sign.
He has very little to lose anymore.
He shakes his hand, lets Walker hold onto him strictly longer than necessary, and walks to his table with a new sense of determination and resolve.
When he sits down beside Ethan and Doug he tortures himself with a last look at Brendan across the dining room. He's staring resolutely down at the plate in front of him, looks like he doesn't have a care in the fucking world.
Ste plans on never seeing that face clearly again.
Moonshine will be his drug of choice, a break from this reality that he so desperately craves.
A fuck you to Brendan Brady.
He'd never realised how funny Doug is before.
The way he moves. The stories he tells. Even his eyebrows seem incredibly amusing. Ste reaches out a hand and tries to brush his thumb over one.
"Ste, what are you doing?"
"Just come here, you. Let me touch -"
He doesn't understand what the problem is.
Doug moves out of reach on the bed. Ste had been leaning against his shoulder, and suddenly he's falling, nearly slipping to the floor.
He lets out a booming laugh, giggles and claps his hands joyfully.
"Shit. You're drunk, aren't you?"
"Shhhhhh," he says, puts a fingers over his lips like they're sharing a secret.
"Oh God, Ste. Let me guess - Walker's special concoction?"
"It's dead fruity." Suddenly his accent sounds more pronounced than ever. He can't speak properly. Fruitehhhhhhhh.
"You don't even know what it's made out of! It could be anything."
"Whatever it is, it's proper mint. Going to have some more of that, me."
Now that Doug knows his game he goes into his hiding place, making a grab for the bottle of moonshine in his drawer.
"No you don't." Doug reaches for it firmly, and Ste whines at the loss of it.
Turns out Doug Carter's no fun after all.
"Gimme it back!"
"No. You're in no fit state to be drinking anymore. I should have known when you came into the room calling yourself the king of the world."
"Well I am, aren't I? King of the fucking world!" Ste shouts, and Doug covers a hand over his mouth, pulling him back to the bed.
"You're going to get one of the guards in here if you're not careful."
"Awwww." Ste squeezes Doug's cheeks. "Always so protective of me, aren't you? Proper good friend you are, Dougie."
"I'm not sure I trust you on that right now," Doug says with a reluctant grin, putting the bottle right at the back of the drawer, as if Ste's a toddler and can't reach that far.
"No, it's true," Ste insists, linking his arm through Doug's. "I know I've been difficult at times, what with me telling you off for shagging your teacher and all, but I love you."
Doug nods at him indulgently. "Well I'm fond of you too."
Ste smiles at him. The only person he has in here. The only person he can trust.
In one smooth motion he moves forward, pushing his lips against Doug's.
He feels a hand on his chest, forcing him to move away.
"What?" Ste demands, doesn't understand why he's being so difficult.
"It's not that I'm not flattered - you're a nice guy Ste, but -"
"Don't worry about Lynsey. I'll never tell her." He moves forward on the bed again, can only focus on the fullness of Doug's mouth.
"Ste!" Again, that hand restraining him. Fucking hell. "There's just a small, teeny tiny problem with this situation."
"Do you not have any condoms?" Ste asks, confused.
"I'm not gay."
Ste laughs. "That's okay, Dougie. I didn't think I was gay either, did I? I have two kids, me. Slept with Amy, and Rae, and they were proper good and everything, even at - you know -" He makes his hand into a fist gesture, moving it back and forth over his mouth, then giggles again, delighted with his own joke. "I just thought I slept with blokes on the weekends, that's all."
"Right. Like a kind of hobby, like football or something."
Ste has the strangest feeling that Doug's taking the piss out of him.
"Right," he stumbles. "Like football. And then I came here and met him, didn't I? And he was really good. I mean really fucking good -"
"Alright, I don't need the details," Doug laughs.
"What I'm saying is, I could be your Brendan, couldn't I?"
"Ste." Doug lays a hand on his shoulder, speaks to him like he's a particularly delicate child, like he's trying to soothe him with his words. "I'm in love with Lynsey."
"Love's overrated mate."
Doug looks at him gently. "This isn't what I want. And I don't think it's what you want either."
Ste senses that he's not going to see Doug's cock anytime soon. He gets off the bed, flings his arms about angrily, feels weary and so old all of a sudden, like he's had enough of the world already.
"I just want to have fun, don't I? I just want to sleep with someone, and -"
"You want Brendan."
"No," he protests angrily. Who the fuck is Doug to say that to him?
"Believe me, I don't understand why you do either. But it's pretty obvious. I know that he ended things, and I know you must be gutted."
"No. I don't want to see his stupid moustache face ever again. Do you know what he said to me?" Ste lowers his voice, imitates Brendan's Irish accent. "You disgust me. Don't ever touch me again."
Doug doesn't look remotely surprised by this news.
Ste laughs hysterically. "Well you know what Brendan, you can do one. The only thing you ever did was break my heart. And now he's not even here, not even with me, and he's still doing it."
He walks towards Doug, needs him to feel his urgency when he says this.
"You know what my advice would be to people, Dougie boy? Don't ever fall in love, because it'll ruin you. Ruin your life."
"You're in love with him?"
Doug says it as if he's asking something entirely different. You killed him?
"Nah." Ste hiccups and curses himself when realising his mistake. He wasn't meant to say that. "Just, you know, in a hypoth - hypoth -"
"Hypothetical?"
"That's the one! In a hypothetical situation." He's pleased with himself. That ought to show Doug. He's not in love with Brendan. "I hate him. He can rot in hell for all I care. Fucking Brendan. Thinks he's so high and mighty just because he's good in bed."
"Yeah Ste, about not wanting those details -"
"Just because he's got a big willy he thinks he's some kind of mafia boss. Well sorry to disappoint you Brendan, but I don't give a shit. He can go and shag every man in this place and I won't even bat an eyelid, will I?"
"I don't know -"
"That reminds me," Ste reaches into the drawer, grabs the moonshine and swigs it back before Doug can stop him. "You know what Brendan used to say about my eyelashes? Used to say I look like a cartoon character. Said you're just like that Bambi Steven, a man shouldn't be able to grow eyelashes that long. Well fuck you Brendan, I'm going to grow my eyelashes even longer now, fucking bastard."
He can see Doug rubbing his hand against his forehead, eyes downcast.
"I'm going to fuck someone right in front of him, and make him watch."
"Probably not the best idea..."
"You sure you don't want us to have sex, Dougie?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."
"Because I don't think Brendan likes you, and that would be a proper fuck you to him, wouldn't it? We could go to his cell and just lie down on the bed and -"
"Ste. Teeny tiny problem, remember?"
"Ah yeah, you don't like willies, do you? Small detail," he says, laughs again because he's the funniest man alive, a fucking comedian and should be given awards for it.
"I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you're better off without him. Brendan's toxic, a lowlife."
"Any more cliches to be added to that? Want to tell me I told you so?"
The room's spinning, and he holds onto the wall to stop himself from falling.
"See, even now you're defending him. This is what he does to people. He gets into their heads, screws them up."
"Yeah but he trusted me, didn't he? I meant something to him, I know I did." He feels suddenly tearful. Fucking moonshine. "He told me all about his dad."
"What do you mean? The murder?"
"Yeah. Yeah, the murder."
The hiccups are coming thick and fast now.
"He told me he cheated on me, you know? Told me there's always a guy. One who isn't you."
"There usually is with Brendan," Doug says uncomfortably.
"Did you see anything? See him with someone else?"
"Of course not. I would of told you."
"Funny how he didn't mind having sex with me even when there was someone else." He snorts. "I thought we were alright. I forgave him after he lied to me. I wanted to be with him."
"You had a lucky escape. It's not long till you're released now. What were you going to do, come and visit him every week for the rest of your life?"
Ste doesn't know what to say to that, opens his mouth but all that comes out is incoherent mumbling. He doesn't know what he had planned to do. He had hated thinking that far ahead, because the thought of leaving Brendan had been impossible.
Brendan made that decision for him. It should have cleared his head, made the idea of leaving that much easier, but he feels more confused than ever.
Going back to having one night stands with strangers is completely unthinkable to him now. He's glimpsed that other life where he felt like he was someone's entire world, and a string of meaningless encounters with nameless men is going to feel woefully inadequate.
The idea of looking for a boyfriend makes him feel even worse.
Brendan was that one chance.
Unless...
"Where are you going?" Doug asks, alarmed when Ste heads towards the door.
He's got a date with the devil.
There's a new boy on the block.
Dirty blonde hair. Wide, staring eyes as he takes in the lay of the land. A tracksuit. Scuffed trainers. A skinny body.
Sent from Satan himself to tempt him.
His name's Kevin Foster, and Brendan follows him around like he's leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in his wake.
Someone will need to teach the lad the ropes, to show him what's what in here. He's only too delighted to take on that task. It'll be his pleasure.
Brendan can immediately tell that Kevin's interested in him. He blushes when Brendan leans in close, looks at him in awe like every boy that Brendan's ever fucked has. He knows it won't take long, that he can get Kevin into his bed at lightning speed.
It'll be more problematic now that he's sharing a cell with Ethan, but not impossible. They can come to some sort of agreement, tell the ex copper to make himself scarce while Brendan shows Kevin the sights. His sights.
Kevin's joined Tony's cookery class, can't cook worth a damn but he's a trier, Brendan will give him that. Even when he burns the macaroni and cheese he still perseveres, makes it look even worse than it already did, but Brendan finds himself admiring the boy's determination.
"I'm guessing you don't cook much for the girlfriend, eh?" He asks, leaning against the counter, idly watching while Silas samples some macaroni behind Tony's back.
"I don't have a girlfriend," Kevin replies shyly.
Bingo.
"Sorry. Boyfriend?" Brendan jokes, not truly joking at all.
Kevin laughs nervously, shuffles his feet on the floor. It reminds Brendan of something.
Someone.
"Who says I'm..."
"Just a question." His voice is low, and he speaks right in Kevin's ear now, making his intentions clear.
Games can be fun, but he doesn't have time to play them now. He's not a person who waits around for someone. Except for...well, there was someone once, someone he would have waited a lifetime for. But not anymore.
"I don't have a boyfriend either."
Not that that would have meant he couldn't go there, but at least it's less of a complication. He opens his mouth again, plans to invite Kevin to spend some alone time in his cell that night, when he's interrupted.
"Brendan, can I have a word?"
Fucking hell. Never any peace in this damn place.
He gives Kevin a strained smile and follows Tony to the corner of the classroom. He tries to think about what particular rule that he's broken lately is getting him into trouble this time. It's a long list.
"I was wondering if you'd spoken to Ste lately?"
Brendan focuses on Kevin, who's now finding even more ways to burn the macaroni. Cute.
"Not since our last picnic, no."
"It's just...I've tried to get him to come back to class quite a few times now, and I've still not had any luck. You two seemed close, and -"
"Correction, Anthony. We were partners, brought together in this little class of yours. That's all."
Kevin's looking round in a panic now after dropping half of the dish.
"Right. Of course. But I thought maybe you could have a word with him. He had real talent, Brendan."
Yeah. Brendan knows first hand how talented the boy is.
It's something he's trying to forget.
"Get one of your other lackies to do it. Ethan, Douglas." He's already heading back to the table, back to Kevin.
Tony lets him leave, knows from experience now that it's futile to try and make Brendan do anything.
Brendan can still feel his eyes on him though, hear the word talent reverberate in his head. He can still remember the taste of Steven's food. He can still remember the taste of him.
He runs the tap and gets a cup of water, swirls it around in his mouth and then spits in out into the sink. He wants to get the taste out.
"Are you in trouble?" Kevin asks, grinning. Jesus. He's flirting with him. Didn't take him long.
"Nothing I can't handle. Speaking of handling things, you want to come to my cell tonight?"
He's being bolder than he's ever been. He's almost embarrassed at how obvious he is. He at least had some class with Vincent and Macca, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
He thinks for a moment that Kevin's going to say no. He's running out of options. There aren't many other boys here that are in their twenties, skinny as fuck and that remind him of...
There aren't many others.
"Yeah." The kid sounds nervous as hell. "Yeah, okay."
Tonight he's going to kill what he's feeling. A fuck you to Steven Hay.
Kevin's stretched out on his bed. When he'd first walked into the room Brendan had looked at his back of his head, had been shocked at the resemblance. It's easy to think that it's Steven in here, and that nothing's ever changed.
The illusion is destroyed somewhat when he turns around, when Kevin opens his mouth and the voice isn't the same. Not even close.
He hasn't got him naked, not yet. The lad's still too tightly wound for that. A virgin when it comes to things being stuck in his arse, Brendan can tell. If he moves too quickly then there's the chance that the boy will run, and will be too scared to ever come back.
He needs to soothe his resistance, make him warm to the idea of having Brendan's cock in him slowly. He's got the evening finely tuned, expertly planned. A toe curling blowjob ought to make Kevin feel more at ease. It's never failed him yet. Then he'll get the boy's arse open to him, let the boy fuck himself on Brendan's loose and wet fingers. He'll let him become used to the size and proportions of Brendan's cock, allow him to adjust to the idea of it being inside him.
Then he'll fuck him.
It's difficult to get a hard on when Kevin's so fucking boring though. Not even that hot little body is doing it for him right now, and he's already entertaining the idea of jerking himself off to get him going.
He doesn't know what's bothering him so much. It doesn't matter what the boy talks about. That's not why he's here, that's not what this is all about. Brendan didn't bring him here for good conversation, he brought him here to get his first shag in weeks.
Steven had always talked far too much, talked like it was an olympic sport and he was a world class athlete. It was hard to get him to shut up when he got started. He seemed to be able to start a conversation about anything. He could make the damn weather sound exciting.
It had comforted him, the sound of Steven's voice. He'd never expected to describe that accent as charming, but against all odds it was. It was one of the many endearing things about the little git.
Fucking hell.
There's got to be more out there than him, something better. The sex was good - the sex was amazing - but he can get that again. He will get that again.
He's going to do this.
Brendan reaches in his drawer for a condom.
"Shit."
"What's wrong?" Kevin asks, rolling over on the bed.
"Give me five minutes."
He's going to make sure that he stocks up properly this time, to avoid another encounter with Walker. He thinks about avoiding it altogether, but he can't risk fucking the kid bareback.
He walks quickly to Walker's cell, anxious to get back to his own. He's been offered counselling in here, therapy. What these shrinks don't understand is that this is his therapy.
When he stops by the cell he looks through the screen window. He knows what Walker's like, will either be fucking an officer or some lad in there, and it's not something he wants to walk into.
Steven's inside, sitting on Walker's bed beside him.
He's avoided looking directly at him ever since he transferred out of the cell, but he can't bring himself to look away now.
Several things happen to his body. He feels a dull, throbbing ache somewhere square in his chest. He becomes very, very cold, feels like someone's just opened the doors and it's the dead of winter, and he's got no defense against it. He feels like he can't swallow, and when he manages to his throat is constricted, tight.
He's never felt this way before, but he knows what it is.
He gives himself to the count of ten to walk away and return to Kevin, to start the boy off with a blowjob until he gets some new supplies.
At the count of a hundred he's still standing by the door.
Ste tips the moonshine back then smiles at Walker approvingly, some of the alcohol spilling down his chin.
"You like it?"
"You should win some kind of award, you. I'm serious!" Ste says when Walker laughs. "We should have some kind of competition right, and you can win and wear a tiara."
"I think you mean a crown, sweetheart."
"No. A tiara," he insists.
"Does that make me a queen?" Walker teases, leans back on the bed and watches Ste through hooded eyes.
"Maybe."
"A queen needs a king, you know."
"That's me!" He shouts joyfully. Finally, someone gets it. "King of the word!" It's all making perfect sense.
It feels so good to be like this. Walker's not judging him, not looking at him like he's something breakable. He feels stronger in his presence.
"You do realise that if you continue being this adorable then I'm going to have to take advantage of you?"
Ste thinks he's only half joking.
"What do you think I came here for?" He's not joking.
Walker stares at him thoughtfully, looks like he's weighing something up in his mind.
"You're far too drunk for that."
"No," Ste argues stubbornly.
"Okay - recite the alphabet for me."
"Easy!" He clears his throat like he's about to say something of importance. "A, B, C, D, F, E, G, H, J, K -
Walker takes the moonshine from him, sips at it and laughs. "Better luck next time, darling."
"I thought you were fun." Ste grumbles, leans back on the bed so that he's closer to Walker.
He doesn't know how he can make his intentions any more obvious. He wants to get fucked. This is what Walker has been waiting for ever since he first arrived.
Unless he disgusts him too.
"I told you, I'm not a rapist."
"And I told you, I want it. I want you to sleep with me."
Walker sighs and runs a single finger over Ste's lips, then begins to trace them with his thumb.
"This is killing me."
Not so disgusted then.
"Then just do it," Ste pleads.
"You didn't sign my contract."
"Forget about your stupid contract. I'll sign it tomorrow if you're so bothered. Just...fuck me now. Please, Simon."
His begging is working. Walker's pupils are blown wide, and he looks at him with a dark intent.
"Is this about Brendan?"
Why must people say his name?
"No. This is about you. What you can do to me."
Walker's so close, he can feel it. Any moment now his resistance is going to snap, and he's going to kiss him.
"What do you want me to do?" It comes out as a pant.
Ste smiles, feeling the spark of a flame igniting which he hasn't felt in weeks.
"Show me what you want."
Ste frowns. "What do you mean?"
"Show me," Walker repeats.
He gets it then.
Ste hoists his bum off the bed, and wriggles out of his tracksuit bottoms. He knows he should feel self conscious like this, but the alcohol's giving him strength, encouraging him into going further, pushing his boundaries.
The way Walker's looking at him makes him feel wanted again.
Ste starts by rubbing over the fabric of his boxers, gradually beginning to make the material tent. He closes his eyes, partly to stop the room spinning and partly to imagine that it's another man looking at him, a man who once made him feel alive.
He's breathing loudly now, wonders if he should feel ashamed for being this open, but he only came here for one reason, and he's not leaving until he gets what he needs.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Walker says, and it sounds like it's coming from a distance, as if his voice is only a whisper. "I want to see you."
Ste obeys, stills his movements and peels his underwear off. His cock bounces up and he takes hold of it once again, moaning at the feel of skin against skin that's there now, at that delicious friction.
"You like this, Ste? Getting yourself off like this while I watch you?"
"Mmmmm." he hums, because he does. It's exciting, a change from the dead feeling that's been following him around everywhere he goes.
It reminds him of being back in bed with Brendan again, touching himself while the older man had looked on.
He hisses when he rubs his thumb over the slit of his cock, the pre cum swiping against his hand.
"Do you want me to suck it?"
Ste can hear the bed squeak, can hear the sound of Walker leaning forward, closer to his open legs.
"Yeah."
It's time to kill that love inside of him.