He doesn't know where to start, what to enjoy first. There's almost too much, too much muscle and hair and sheer masculinity spread out before him for him to use to his will.
He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the feeling, the knowledge that this is all his to explore. He wishes he had time to luxuriate over it, to slowly trace his lips over Brendan's, to ride him slowly and exquisitely, to make this try to last, but he has a visit from Amy in less than fifteen minutes, and he knows he'll have to make this quick.
Ste reluctantly shifts from the bed to search through his drawers to find a condom. He'd kept some back from the stash that Brendan had stolen from Walker for exactly this purpose, knowing that with Brendan in his life this situation was bound to arise sooner or later.
He never plans these things, never expects that he won't be able to stop himself, that one moment he'll be telling him they don't have enough time, and the next second he'll be pinning Brendan to the bed, cock growing harder in anticipation.
"Hurry up," Brendan says, still fully suited, his shirt creased and roughly pushed up from where Ste's hands had wandered.
He'd usually make a dig about the man's bossiness, but he feels as desperate for this as he is, and he swears when he has to hunt through several drawers to find a condom, tearing one open frantically when his hand eventually settles around the wrapper.
Ste slings himself onto the bed so hard that it bounces, the springs already weakened through time and wear. Brendan laughs as they both jump the tiniest bit from the mattress, but his face becomes serious when Ste slides the condom onto his cock, already erect despite him having not even touched it.
He slicks his fingers with his warm spit and places them behind himself, digits entering him and hitting against his prostate. He focuses on Brendan's eyes, sees how the man's drinking all of this in, every flicker of Ste's eyelashes and every breath from his chest, his head cocked to the side as though the boy's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.
Soon Ste can't look, can't concentrate on anything other than what he's doing to himself, and his head grows heavy and slack, falling forward the slightest amount, his eyes closing sluggishly. He removes his fingers and wets them further, and when they slide in again he feels loose, and they move up into him easily, stretching his hole out, because God knows he needs to when he's about to have Brendan entering him.
He can hear himself, impossibly loud noises that sound primal, broken cries that could be ecstasy, could be pain, but are ripped from his insides either way. He wants to start stroking himself, wants to add to the pressure already building up inside him, but before he can reach forwards he feels a hand secure around his cock, and he jerks from the sensation.
Brendan calls him good boy, calls him beautiful and sexy and fucking amazing, Steven, and all he can do is lap it up like it's his oxygen and his sun, the attention and the onslaught on his body making him quiver and shake.
When he feels ready he gradually removes his fingers, the action making him keen high in his throat. He strips off his jogging bottoms, hoodie and t-shirt, registering the way that Brendan's eyes roam over his naked skin, and for one of the first times in his life he feels like someone worth looking at. He feels everything that Brendan wants him to feel - special. Special to him.
He wasn't lying when he said he'd always wanted to do this before. The idea of fucking someone completely clothed while he's naked makes his blood sing, especially when the person's Brendan and he looks like he does, so powerful and commanding, so gorgeous that it makes his cock twitch.
The Irishman's trousers are still barely rolled down, shrugged off him just enough so that Ste can see his dick and the vast scattering of pubic hair.
"Are you going to keep staring at me like that, or are you going to get on? Either one's good, but..." Brendan points to his watch, tapping against it. "Tick tock."
"Did I say you could move your hands?" Ste breaths, his own moving to Brendan's once more, and ensuring that they're resting on the bed, their fingers interlinked together.
"Oh, that's how you want to play it, is it?"
He's not sure if he can even attempt to pull this off, if Brendan will let him. Ste assesses his reaction, seeing if there's any hesitation or discomfort there, but he only sees trust, and something that looks a lot like love. His hold on the man increases. Power play, only the role's have been reversed, and he's the one in charge here.
"Mmmm," Ste hums low in his throat, and positions himself.
He'd been thorough in his preparation and he slides onto the man effortlessly now, the sting bearable and barely leaving its mark on him. He's full of Brendan's cock, so deliciously full that he has to take a second and brace himself, his hands clawing at the man's chest, shifting back his hips until he's seated more comfortably.
He can hear Brendan muttering, the familiar Jesus escaping from his lips, and a groan that he's sure is reserved only for him. He's lying flat on his back now, and abdicating control so gloriously that Ste feels a sense of pride wash over him. He knows that this can't be easy, that Brendan has to fight the urge to continually lead here, to take the power back.
He doesn't even move his hips, just waits as Ste angles himself and starts to grind, using his hold on the man to give him leverage. With every thrust he can feel the head of Brendan's cock rubbing against him, and it builds up a feeling that's so intense that he's sure that he didn't live at all until he came here and met this man. He had no idea that sex could be like this.
He reaches for his cock but Brendan murmurs for him not to, and Ste stares at him curiously, his hand in mid air while he waits for the man's direction.
"I want to make you come just from this," Brendan whispers. "No hands anymore."
Ste's eyes widen at what feels like an impossible task, protests ready to roll off his tongue. It's not that he doesn't think he's capable. He's come hands free before, but the finality about anymore makes him feel nervous. Another first with this man, another thing to learn, to have control over muscles which he didn't even know existed before he met Brendan.
His instinct has always been to start jerking off when he's close, but now he nods, accepting the challenge.
As a distraction from touching himself he stares up at the ceiling, at the peeling paint and the stains from chewing gum being thrown there throughout the years. He knows that it's the same view that Brendan's had for so long now, and wonders if the only thing that made it more bearable was having men like Vinnie and Simon in his bed. It's still an itch he has to resist scratching, a craving to ask where and when and how, how Brendan came to be with these men, and why he's any different. Why he's the one who Brendan cares about.
With every rotation of his hips the nagging worries in his mind are numbed. Brendan's sitting up in the bed now, his chest almost pressing against Ste's, his hand on his face and stroking against his cheeks as though in acknowledgement that he lost him for a few seconds. He's trying to pull him back towards him, trying to bury whatever fear is ripping and gnawing at him, and it works.
He lets out an elongated sigh which sounds like a purr, and concentrates everything on building up an orgasm inside himself, far removed from his hands wrapping around his cock and bringing him off.
He can't believe Brendan's asked him to do this now of all times; now when Amy's sitting in the waiting room ready to be called by the officers, and he's been denied coming because the bastard he's riding is cruel and loves inventing ways to make this even more achingly sweet, the right side of painful.
They kiss, sloppy and spit licked, lips ghosting together lazily, Ste wetting Brendan's lips with a hint of his tongue fluttering against them. He coils it downwards, brushing it over the lightest hint of stubble covering his chin and upwards again, flickering across the razor sharp hairs of his moustache, over the corners and eventually settling on the middle, laying delicate kisses while he fucks himself on Brendan's cock, as far and as deep as he can get it inside him.
He needs more though, more friction and more of Brendan, and he releases a guttural and breathless command for him to move his hips and thrust into him from below, adds a please for good measure because Brendan's always determined to make him work for what he wants.
The older man laughs, lapping at the tender skin on Ste's shoulders, raw and wounded from the bites that he's left there over recent days. Ste can see Brendan's legs moving in the bed, and fuck he loves them, loves how their skinniness is deceptive, is hiding a solidity and muscularity that makes Ste hurt in all the places he wants to hurt, especially now when he's using them to support himself while he moves his dick into Ste's heat, his cock hammering into him and pressing against his inner tissues again and again. It's so fucking relentless, the man so determined to make him come.
He's so close, so close to spilling over his stomach, hasn't even had to touch his dick and he's already there but Brendan disarms him again, always making this that little bit more of a challenge, and he rolls Ste off from him before he even has time to feel the first shudder of his orgasm. He expects the man to lie him on his back, knows that he always loves to come when he's facing him, when he's staring at him from above like some fucking power trip.
But when he has his back against the mattress Brendan rolls him onto his side and slides his cock back into him from behind, his chest damp and solid against him as he presses himself against Ste's spine, joining their bodies together and moving in a rhythm, building up that delicious erotic tension in him again.
He's never tried this position with anyone and the intimacy startles him. He can't see Brendan but he can feel everything, feel his balls smacking into his arse and his arms wrap around him and tickling his stomach, lips against his neck and words murmured into his ear, feels so fucking good, come for me, but Ste wants to prolong this now, wants to stay like this forever.
He's milking Brendan's cock, arse grinding back and letting out sighs that would embarrass another person, but not him. It's something that binds them, connects him to Brendan, because no one's ever heard him like this before. He's slept with a lot of men, but right here, right now, this could be the only. The last.
Brendan's kissing down his back as he moves in him, his lips hot and soft. Ste takes the arm that's around him and returns in kind, laying desperate and rough kisses against it, over the knuckles and across the palm and on top of the juddering pulse, aware that it's moving erratically just for him.
Their legs are entangled together, toes curling and thighs clenched from their conjoined movements. The belt from Brendan's trousers is hitting against Ste's legs and he groans urgently for him to take it off. The pummeling doesn't cease whilst he hears the sound of it being removed and carelessly thrown onto the floor. Brendan has one arm wrapped close to his stomach, and Ste's sure that he's going to come over the sleeve of his suit if he doesn't remove it.
He tries to lift it higher but Brendan won't let him.
"I'm going to -"
"I don't care," he says, voice a spark that sends shivers down Ste's spine. It's enough, enough to make his inner muscles clench and to spill over his stomach without even touching his dick.
He's barely managed to recover before Brendan rolls him onto the pillow, his cheek pressed against it. He clutches it in his palm, his knuckles turning white as Brendan drives his cock into him, hands clawing at Ste's back and digging into the flesh there.
The head of Ste's cock feels tender, feels sensitive and almost sore when he rubs against the mattress from Brendan's ministrations. He's crying out, sounds so unlike himself that he's sure a stranger is making these wild, abandoned noises. Brendan's mouth has replaced his hands now and he's biting into his skin, and there's no part of Ste which is left pure, unmarked by Brendan's body.
He feels Brendan ejaculate, hears the noises that are ripped from him, but it's hazy. He's vaguely aware of the man moving off from on top of him, and looks to the side to watch what he's doing. He sees him hike his trousers up, sees the damp spots on his white shirt from where they've both sweated. Brendan bins the condom, his cheeks flushed, his lips rubbed raw.
He looks at the stain on his jacket in the mirror, and when he turns towards Ste he's grinning.
"Look what you did to me, you little fucker."
"I did warn you," Ste mumbles, his eyes shutting. He's close to falling asleep, feels so fucking sated that he's sure he's smiling against the pillow.
"What do you think you're doing?" Brendan asks, amusement in his voice.
"Give me a minute." He reaches out an arm tonelessly, motioning for Brendan to join him in bed. He wants to be wrapped up in his warmth and then when they're ready, they can start all over again. Brendan's lips wrapped around his cock, Ste's tongue exploring his hole...
He's giggling now. He feels drunk.
"Steven, are you forgetting that pretty little blonde you've got waiting for you?"
He opens his eyes, his vision clouded. He's never felt so tired in his life than after he has sex with Brendan. He wasn't this bad even when his own child was born.
"Stop getting at me and come for a sleep and a shag, won't you?"
Ste feels a hand swatting at his arse, and he swears and gingerly rubs a palm over the redness coming to the surface.
"Bastard," he scolds, rolling over and offering Brendan his best insulted glare.
"Tell that to your cock."
Ste looks down at it, already hard in the time it took for Brendan to come.
"Like it rough do you, Steven?" He's so fucking arrogant, so fucking gorgeous.
"Maybe you can come over here and find out," Ste challenges, spreading his legs.
Brendan mirrors Ste's earlier action, offering his hand out. Ste sighs, knowing that he has to leave this room, and he wants to see Amy, he does, but it's difficult when there's something so tempting on offer to distract him.
He also can't help but be disappointed that his plan to entice has failed spectacularly.
"You pouting?" Brendan asks, cutting through his thoughts as Ste begins to get dressed.
"No," he says, sounding to his own ears a lot like a petulant teenager being told to tidy their bedroom.
"Come on, I know you are."
He says nothing, just throws his tracksuit bottoms on and tries not to show how he's hobbling slightly, how he thinks his arse will be sore for days. He doesn't want Brendan's ego to become even more inflated.
"Are you angry because I didn't fuck you again, Steven?"
"Leave it out. As if."
"You look fucking hot when you're mad at me."
He turns to face the man at that, watching while Brendan dabs at his sleeve in the sink. The stain seems to go on and on, an obscene testament to how hard he came and how much it's impossible to not want Brendan.
There's something satisfying about watching Brendan brush away at it, and he averts his eyes, sure he shouldn't have this much of a thrill.
"Once we get back to the cell..." It sounds like a promise, Brendan staring at Ste's open chest before the skin is covered by his now crumpled t-shirt.
Ste wants to make a witty retort, like I even care, but it's embarrassing how much he does care. He can't pretend to not want this, not when he's worn his heart on his sleeve, not when he's told Brendan he loves him, not once, not enough for it to be a slip of the tongue, a mistake.
He's said it enough times for the man to know it's real, and instead of a customary roll of his eyes he gives Brendan a wink, the Irishman rolling a stick of gum around in his mouth as though he'd much prefer for it to be Ste's cock.
"How do I look?" Brendan asks, hands gesturing to his body. He's undeniably less presented and ordered than before, his hair sticking up in tufts, the colour of his jacket darkened in areas where the water's still drying.
"You're Brendan Brady," Ste replies with a shrug, as though that settles it. For him it does. Brendan Brady, in no matter what state, is someone who people listen to. Who people want to be. Who people want to fuck.
"What does that mean?" Brendan asks, playful and light, but Ste thinks he really doesn't know.
He steps towards the man, smoothing his hair back to make it less obvious what's just gone on here.
"You look good, Brendan." He wants to say perfect, but Ste doesn't think he'd have fallen in love with perfect. It's everything that goes along with Brendan, the insecurity and the fear and the fact that he doesn't always get it right.
He's in danger of telling Brendan all of this, of revealing every single sentimental thought that's etched under his skin. He's relieved when Brendan breaks the atmosphere that's settled by making a grab for one of Ste's stray trainers that managed to escape when he had hastily undressed, and they laugh as Ste tries to put it on whilst standing on one foot, only managing not to fall when he has to lean against the older man for support.
He feels anticipation building inside of him as they line up alongside the other men. He's barely even been aware of what's happened in his recent visits with Amy. He'd been too consumed by everything that was happening, by Brendan sitting mere inches away from him with Cheryl, pointedly ignoring him, his body facing away. He'd wanted to confront him a million times, had longed to dissolve the space between them and make things the way they used to be, but he felt powerless.
Amy had been forced to shake him and ask if he was okay, had stared at him with concern, and he'd hardly even been able to summon up the strength to ask about Leah and Lucas anymore. Everything he'd once cared about had slipped away.
When he sees her now, he takes everything in. The tiredness under her eyes from living a life of a single parent for the past few months. The tentative smile, as though she's assessing his reaction. The way that she pulls him closer towards her when he hugs her, and he can hear her let out a breath.
"I was so worried about you."
He releases her when he sees the officers looking at them in warning, and sits down.
"Why?" He asks. He'd been so immune to his own behaviour that he can't begin to see what he must have looked like, how he must have acted.
"You were so...distant. Like you weren't even here at all."
He glances over at Brendan, deep in conversation with Cheryl. He hopes that he doesn't hear this, doesn't want him to feel even more guilty for the weeks of silence. He doesn't have to punish Brendan, to remind him of the state he left him in. Brendan's doing that for him. Sometimes when he looks at him it's as though he still expects him to leave, to abandon him like everyone else.
"I was scared to ask you what was wrong, Ste."
He winces at the word, scared. He never wants Amy to be frightened in relation to him ever again, never walks her to walk on eggshells or tiptoe around him like he's going to fall apart, with her as a casualty.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, ashamed of his own actions.
He thinks about how he risked it all, how he brought the moonshine from Simon without even thinking of the consequences. It could have been poison. He could have left Amy without a best friend. The kids without a father. At the very least he could have been caught, and spent even more time away from them. A disgrace to his family.
He tries to find some possible explanation.
"I was just going through a bad time. You know, being stuck in here."
"I'm just glad you're better. You've put some of that weight back on. Still chickeny, but..."
He smiles, thinking of one of Brendan's past comments. Those little chicken arms of yours.
"How are the kids?" He's desperate to find out about them now. He's terrified that he's started to forget their faces already, missed their milestones, their accomplishments. Everyday that passes is another day that he doesn't get to watch them grow up, have the chances that he never had, become the people that he didn't get to be.
"They miss you."
"What have you told them? About where I am?"
They've never discussed this before. Amy's anger after the sentencing had made him wary of asking questions, of pushing her beyond her limits. Every time he's spoken to Leah and Lucas on the phone they've told him about school, about their friends and their lives, but never drawn attention to the fact that their father could be a million miles away.
They seem so certain that he will come back. It makes Ste smile, that they have that much belief and conviction in him. He spent his own childhood thinking that every time Pauline went out he'd never see her again. That he'd get a call from the police telling him that they'd found his mother lying dead in a ditch, a trail of alcohol being the only thing that alerted anyone to her whereabouts.
Amy looks at him sheepishly, nibbling at her lower lip. "I told them that you're in Benidorm."
Ste's splutters make several of the other prisoners look in their direction, Silas staring at him disapprovingly, Doug mouthing you okay, dude? and Brendan looking directly at his crotch as thought that's the only thing that holds his attention.
"Benidorm? Why Benidorm?"
"I don't know, it's the first thing I could think of!"
"Great, so you just imagined me in one of the tackiest places on earth. What am I meant to be doing there for three months, lying on a sun lounger and drinking cocktails in my speedos?"
"I always thought you were a trunks guy, actually."
"Amy!" He scolds, but there's no maliciousness there. He'd rather his kids imagining him holidaying in some cheap resort rather than being locked up for shoplifting. "I'm going to have to douse myself in fan take now, aren't I?"
"Ste, they're children. They're not detectives."
"Yeah, you say that but our Leah's proper smart, isn't she?" He's sure her intelligence comes from Amy, although she's definitely learnt her stubbornness from him.
It's so easy like this, laughing and earning her trust back, piece by piece. He almost forgets what he's promised himself and Brendan that he'll tell her. Everything he'd planned in his head is uncertain now. He knows who he wants to be, knows who he is, but it's simpler in here when there are complete strangers, when he doesn't have to look a girl he's known for years in the eye and tell her the truth.
"Ames, I've got something I need to say." He prays that she doesn't interrupt him, otherwise he doesn't think he'll ever be able to finish. He's already making excuses, already planning a way out of this, a way to leave it till another day, telling himself that there's no urgency, there's no real reason he should tell her at all.
It's only the sight of Brendan present in the room with him that gives him any courage at all.
He's grateful when Amy doesn't speak. She regards him with a frown, leaning back in her chair and expecting him to start talking, as though there's a beginning to this. As though he knows how it all started.
"Recently I've had these..." He stumbles, wondering how he can possibly phrase this. "Feelings. Feelings for..." His mouth wants to resist the word, because once it forms there's no taking it back. She'll know what he is, and he can't bear to see the judgement that might appear behind her eyes.
"Men." He croaks it out, and he can't not look at her reaction. It feels self punishing when he knows how much it could hurt, when he may lose her forever because of this.
She doesn't even attempt to conceal the shock from her face, her lips parting. It answers Ste's question about whether she had any idea at all.
"Men?" She echos back at him, and he can't read anything in her voice but disbelief, can't tell if she's disgusted or accepting. It's a start, he thinks, that she seems neither upset nor angry, although he wonders if she's numb to it, and it's lurking underneath the exterior and waiting to be revealed.
He nods, moistening his dry lips.
"Are you saying you're bisexual?"
He knew the questions would start, but he's said it now. Nothing can feel as difficult as those first initial words, and he's already beginning to feel the first waves of relief wash over him.
He knows it would be easy, his get out clause in so many ways to say yes, but he wants to be fearless like Brendan. If he can go to a therapist and sit in a room for fifty minutes and admit he has a problem, then Ste's sure he can do anything. He owes him this.
"No," he says, preparing himself to say what's been building up inside of him ever since Brendan walked into his life. "I'm gay."
"But Ste..." Amy's speaking in hushed whispers now, and he wonders if she's ashamed of him. If this is something she thinks he should hide from everyone else in here.
He can see her concern if that's what it is. He never thought being gay would make him protected in prison, but being with Brendan makes him respected, makes him someone who no one touches unless they want to be killed. The thought scares him, and thrills him.
"You and Rae - you were together just before you came in here. And you and me..."
He can see the way her mind's working. The doubts that are forming there. Wondering if he ever wanted her. Thinking about the children that they have together. Whether it was all based on lies to begin with.
"I did fancy you." He's not being dishonest. "And you know, when we..." He raises his eyebrows, insinuating, "I did enjoy it."
"But I don't understand how you could if you're gay." She's not attacking him, her tone still calm and measured. He can see she just desperately wants to understand this.
He wants to understand too.
"I liked sex with girls, Amy. But I met this guy, see, and he changed everything." It sounds insubstantial, not even beginning to explain the impact that Brendan's had on his life.
He feels like he's said the wrong thing, because Amy's shock only increases.
"Wait, you mean - have you had sex with a man?"
Ste covers his arms over his face, flushing.
"Ste!" It sounds like she's squealing. "This is massive!"
He giggles, the sound muffled by his arms, unable to resist the obvious joke. He's sure that Brendan's smug right about now, without even being able to hear them.
"Come on, stop that!" Amy bats his hands away, and he's sure he's crimson when he faces her again. It feels too surreal, talking about his sex life with her. He still remembers being a teenager and waiting till her dad had left the house, sneaking in so they could be alone together, a packet of condoms in his pocket, a bulge in his pants and a grin on his lips.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me this. Give me all the details."
He can't believe how okay she's being about all of this.
"You really want to know?" He asks, crinkling his nose. He can't say he'd be comfortable knowing about the men Amy's had in her bed.
"Yes! You can't just drop something like that on me and not tell me. I thought you were talking about some kind of crush on Zac Efron, not actually dipping your toe in the water."
"First of all, Zac Efron? What do you take me for? And second..." He looks down, biting his lip. "I've dipped more than my toe."
She claps her hands together excitedly like a performing seal, and he meets Brendan's eyes from across the room, seeing that he's not the only one who's relieved by this display, by how normal this looks. No scene. No big storm out or drama.
She seems happy for him.
"So what have you done?" She asks conspiratorially, as though they've been doing this for years and he's her gay best friend. He realises with a certain amount of surprise that technically, he is.
"Everything," he admits, and he realises how most of that everything consists of these last few months in here. The things he's learnt. The barriers he's crossed.
"Did you actually have that up you?" She ask in awe.
"And what are you, the virgin Mary? It wouldn't be much fun if I hadn't," he says, chuffing a laugh. He feels giddy with the way she's staring at him, like she's truly seeing him for the first time and she likes what she sees. Loves it. Loves him.
"Didn't it hurt?"
With Brendan it never hurts, and he doesn't know how that's possible when he's so large. Sometimes he looks at him and can't understand how he can fit his cock inside him, but every time he makes it feel good, makes Ste so ready for it that he almost cries out for relief.
It hasn't always been like that. There have been men who haven't taken their time, who have rushed and not cared about his own feelings or needs, and his hole had felt tender and sore for days afterwards.
He winces at the memory.
"Ste?" Amy prompts.
"Sometimes. But when you find someone who loves you it all falls away, doesn't it?"
And it starts hurting in other ways.
Amy's lips quirk with a playful smile. "Who is this man who loves you?"
"No one," Ste says quickly. "I just mean...you know, if there was." He hopes there will be, one day.
"I still can't believe this. Have I known anyone who you've been with?"
He shakes his head. The kind of men he's slept with haven't been from around Chester. He's always done that on purpose, going out of his way to make them anonymous, mere strangers who he'll never see again. He told himself it was better that way.
"But how could you have hidden your boyfriends from me? Didn't they ever wonder why you didn't bring them back to ours?"
Ste shifts in his seat uncomfortably, knowing that there's still so much more to tell her. He doesn't think Amy will be pleased to know about the nights he's spent in clubs at the weekends, having one night stands and potentially putting himself at risk by assuming that the men he's with aren't animals who'll force him to do something he doesn't want to.
He tries to search for something that doesn't sound like an outright lie.
"I didn't really have boyfriends," he mumbles, thinking about how he still hasn't, not with everything with Brendan still being so undefined. "It was more just something casual."
He feels an unshakeable need to explain himself, to say something that'll make him feel less easy and degraded. Something that'll justify these encounters that left him feeling worthless and empty.
There was a buzz to it to begin with, and a momentary pleasure from the sex, but when he was left alone in a toilet with his trousers around his ankles, he'd longed for something that felt normal. Something domestic, although fuck knows he'd never realised before how much he'd wanted that.
He wanted a warm bed to fuck in. A warm body beside him, someone who would talk to him and listen to him. Someone who would care if he got home safely at night, and who would think about him even when they weren't together.
He hadn't wanted his first time to consist of being fucked in a tiny cubicle by a guy called Noah, whose hands had been rough and all over him, suffocating and stifling, shoving Ste against the door and yanking down his trousers, driving his cock into him before he'd even had time to adjust.
He hadn't wanted to have to walk home because he was too drunk to be allowed into a taxi, every bastard driver turning him down when he threw up onto the street outside the club. He hadn't wanted to stumble back to the flat in the dark, waking the kids and Amy and trying to reassure her that everything was okay, only to see drops of blood flush down the drain when he'd had a shower.
He hadn't wanted that. He'd wanted someone who would take care of him, who would make him feel desirable and valued. He'd wanted Brendan, the idea of Brendan, before he'd even known who he was.
He wants to tell Amy that this is the man he's chosen. That there may be a million things wrong with him, but there are also a million things right. That when Brendan says he's going to look after him he believes him. That there are probably people better suited to him out there, that would give him a future that didn't involve visits to a prison and timed phone calls, but that it pales in significance against everything that Brendan can give him.
Ste longs to point at the Irishman and call him his boyfriend to Amy, whether it's true or not. He feels overcome by the need to tell her that this man gave him a chance in here when he had nothing, and made him feel safe when he had nobody. That Brendan taught him how to love. That he means everything.
But he knows that it doesn't matter what he says. Everything will become meaningless against Brendan's crime. Amy won't understand. He can see the way she's looking at the other men in here, the way that she doesn't view Ste as one of them. She thinks he's different, better. She'll hear the word murderer, without love to make her capable of forgiveness.
He was an idiot to think that he could try to convince anyone but himself that this is what he needs.
Ste's sure that wherever Seamus is now he's laughing at all of them for ruining his son's life, without him even being alive to do it for them.