Brendan lowers him onto the bed slowly, placing Ste's head against the pillow like he's a delicate doll, smoothing the lengths of his hair and kissing him anywhere he can get access to, his touch soft and soothing. Ste moans at the feel of it, feels like it's been forever since he's been handled like this, and no one handles his body like Brendan.
He's burning up like he has a fever, and he's faintly embarrassed by it, wondering if Brendan can feel the heat pooling from his body. He's nervous in a way that he hasn't been with Brendan in a long time - not since the first time they did this, and he was wondering if they'd fit, if they'd work, if he'd be good enough.
"Steven."
Brendan's voice pulls him back, gets him focusing on the man pressing down on him, his chest rubbing against Ste's. There's a hint of alarm in Brendan's eyes, as though he's afraid he's lost him. Ste smiles, an edge of panic to it, but it settles into something more serene when Brendan strokes a hand up his arm, his lips marking their territory around his jaw.
He's aware of Brendan pulling the cover over them both, concealing them from anyone outside who has access to the window. There's something more protective about it than before, more desperate as Brendan grips the sheet, hiding Ste's lower half from view as the boy takes his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, maneuvering out of them completely, wriggling awkwardly in the confined space.
They both let out a laugh at the sight of it, Ste's gangly limbs growing more uncoordinated as he tries to remove his t-shirt, getting it stuck around his head so that Brendan has to help him, his hair a ruffled, unruly mess afterwards.
"Look at you." Brendan smooths his hands through it. Ste doesn't know how he does it; his actions are rough and determined, but his kisses and eyes are more gentle than Ste ever believed him capable of. He wonders if Macca and Vincent ever got to see this side of him. If Brendan ever looked at them that way.
"I look a mess."
"A hot mess," Brendan corrects, and he dips down and takes Ste's bottom lip, sucking on it leisurely.
Ste's terrified that he'll stop. That Brendan will tell him he's not ready. That he'll recoil in disgust at Ste's body that still bears the imprints of Warren's attack, and he'll be left cold and naked and alone in the bed. He holds Brendan close towards him, rolling them over so that he's on top of him, laying possessive hands on the man's shoulders and watching as his expression changes to one of surprise.
It makes them both hard. Ste would ordinarily tease Brendan about enjoying this role - being dominated, something he'll never admit to liking - but it doesn't feel right, doesn't feel like a time for teasing. It's enough that he can feel it in his body, Brendan's cock rubbing stiffly against Ste's stomach as they kiss. The feel of his skin makes him shiver; there's nothing between them now, no clothing or material. He can feel everything.
Ste didn't forget anything, but everything feels heightened now, feels like he's gone from black and white to technicolour. It should be impossible for Brendan to be this big - his hands, his arms, his balls, his cock. It should be impossible for him to be this hairy - the darkness of his chest, the way the hair tickles as Ste explores him, the trail leading down to his groin that he can feel with his fingers. Brendan's quiet as Ste touches him; too quiet. The boy stares up at him from where he's settled at Brendan's stomach, his head resting there as he kisses along his nipples and his chest. Brendan's eyes are heavy lidded, his lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough to draw blood.
"You alive up there?"
Brendan merely blinks as way of an answer.
Ste doesn't take his eyes off him as his hand drifts lower, and he watches Brendan's reaction as his grasps his cock in his palm, a single finger flicking over the head, gently easing back the foreskin, back and forth, back and forth.
"Do you want me to..." Ste parts his lips, and Brendan's eyes grow darker when he sees the shining traces of saliva in his mouth, remembering how it feels around his cock, almost silkily smooth.
"You don't have to."
But he wants him to. Ste can see it.
He wants to.
He shuffles back on his knees, lips never leaving Brendan's skin. There's something comforting about it, something distracting. As long as he's touching Brendan, the memories are cloudy and distant, not quite reaching the surface.
It's when he doesn't touch him that it becomes dangerous.
Ste stops when he reaches Brendan's groin, lips at his thigh, no longer kissing but sucking a bruise into his skin, eyes cast downwards.
"What?" There's a note of self consciousness to Brendan's voice. His head's to the side as he regards Ste, and the boy can't explain it, can't put it into words that sound anything other than ridiculous, laughable. Can't tell Brendan that he likes to look. That he never thought he'd be able to look again without feeling scared.
He'd flinched when he'd felt Warren's cock pressing against him through his jeans. It had felt like it had been digging into Ste's flesh, had felt like a knife that was aimed at his skin, designed to bleed.
"Are you okay?" There's arousal beneath the worry. His tone is thick with it.
"Yeah." Ste shakes his head, wants to dislodge the thought with it. "Just...you know..."
He doesn't have to add anything else, gets a nod of understanding from Brendan. He wonders how many times he saw Seamus in another man's bed, the memory of him, prays that he's never seen him in theirs.
"I like this," he says quietly, smoothing his hand over the length of Brendan, feeling the veins on his cock and the way that Brendan's legs tremble as he spreads the pre-come thats gathered at the tip.
"Good. I mean, considering you spend most of your time with it in you..."
Ste's kisses turn to bites along Brendan's thigh for the remark. Brendan's head snaps back onto the pillow as if he's been scalded, his legs rising from the bed, dick curled against his stomach.
Ste gets closer. Gets so close to Brendan's cock that his nose is nuzzling against the foreskin.
He can do this. He's going to do this.
He places his hands either side of Brendan's thighs, feeling the warm skin underneath his palms. There's a comfort to be had in it, and he takes that comfort now, lets the feel of Brendan's hair run through his fingertips. He can smell the arousal coming off him, that intoxicating mixture of excitement and sweat, the maleness of it.
His mouth feels locked, his jaw rigid, his throat dry. The fear that he felt in the library is somehow distant, and there's only this fear now; he's expecting for Brendan to stop him at any moment, tell him that he's doing something wrong, that he doesn't touch him the way he used to, that he's not the same person. That Warren's changed him, broken him, and he can't be fixed.
When he registers Brendan staring down at him, he realises that he hasn't moved in over a minute, has frozen.
"Sorry, I..." He can't provide the explanation that he wants to give, words trailing away until he's mumbling under his breath, that familiar feeling of inadequacy returning.
He's useless. Fucking useless.
Ste lets out a squeak of surprise when he's flipped unceremoniously onto his stomach. Before he can react he feels his cheeks being spread apart and a warm, wet tongue delving in the space between, coiling without pause into his hole. He's too startled to do anything but let out a whine and a series of panting breaths into the pillow, angling his arse backwards, closer to Brendan's mouth.
It feels like a long time since this has been done to him. Too long. He forgot what it does to him, how much it makes him want to come.
He rubs his dick against the mattress in steady rocking movements, but it's not enough, not after waiting all this time. He slips his hand there instead, wrapping it firmly around his cock, a frenzy of movements, can't decide what feels better - what Brendan's doing with his tongue, or what Ste's doing to himself.
It's all coming back, everything which felt stuck, ruined, never again to be ignited.
He'll be embarrassed by his behaviour when this is over, will recall the way he shouts, the things he says, the way he moves. But there's a lack of self consciousness now which is freeing, and Ste uses it to his advantage. His pleads of more are answered by Brendan dragging him up in the bed until Ste's on his knees, giving Brendan better access.
There's something about this. Ste doesn't know what it is, doesn't know if it's his body reacting or if it's the way Brendan reacts, like this is what gives him pleasure, tongue buried so far inside Ste that he can feel the burn, feel him stretching and probing and opening him up, gets Ste chewing down on his own hand for relief.
He can't even see Brendan, but he knows it's him. In Ste's nightmares it hadn't mattered that it was Brendan touching him; he'd seen and felt and heard Warren. Ste doesn't have to open his eyes. Brendan's running his hands over him like he loves him. There's never a moment when they break contact, and when Ste feels a hand on top of his own over his dick, it's Brendan who's making him come, spilling over their skin.
"Better?"
Ste laughs, doesn't stop even when Brendan's kissing him, just laughs into his mouth and transfers the sound into his lover.
"I did it." The words don't do justice to what he feels, relief spreading through him and warming him.
Brendan reaches for a tissue from the bedside drawer, cleaning his hands before sweeping it over Ste. The boy's limbs feel loose and relaxed, almost weightless. His mouth is stretched into a lazy grin.
"Someone looks pleased with themselves." There's a casual drawl to Brendan's voice, but Ste's not buying it; he knows this means as much to Brendan as it does to him.
"Come 'ere."
"Fuck." Brendan lets out a shaky laugh of his own.
"What?"
"You, this..." Brendan gestures between them. "You have no idea, do you?" His hand wanders. and Ste knows, knows that he can't come again this soon, but he doesn't try and shrug Brendan off. There's a certain pleasure to be had in Brendan touching him when he's emptied, keeping him on the edge of arousal.
"Fuck me, Bren."
Ste sees the up and down motion of Brendan's Adam's apple. It's not often that he sees Brendan nervous, and there's something endearing about rare glimpses.
"Are you -"
"How many more times are you going to ask me if I'm sure?" Ste asks, half frustrated, half amused. He doesn't want Brendan to ask - wants him to take what's his like he used to. Wants to forget that there was ever a time when they didn't do this.
"But before..."
He's thinking of the hesitation. It clouds his eyes, and Ste can see where it could lead, can imagine Brendan finding a way to get out of it, afraid of hurting him, of expecting too much of him too quickly.
"I'll be okay. I'm with you, aren't I?"
When Brendan says nothing, Ste climbs out of bed, wrapping the cover around his body. He riffles through the drawers, wanting Brendan to see that he's not shaking, that there's no hint of a tremor in his movements. He's not going to fall apart.
He's relieved to find a condom: it means that there's no backing out. If he doesn't do this now then he might make excuses, find ways of never being this close, never this intimate again.
He removes the wrapper, placing it on Brendan's dick before he can change his mind. For a second he fears he's forgot how, how to do this, and he laughs, shaking his head at his own tangled mind.
"What?"
"It's just like riding a bike, innit?"
Brendan can't keep up, stares at Ste with a frown.
"Let me guess - I'm meant to be the bike in this scenario?" He says with a wry smile, eyebrows raised. It's difficult to concentrate on his words when he's spread out before Ste like this, hair and muscle and bare skin all his.
Ste smooths his hands over Brendan's chest, and Brendan pulls him into his arms until he's seated in his lap, the cheeks of his arse brushing tantalizingly close to Brendan's cock. Brendan thinks he wants it like this, is gently angling Ste upwards so he can swallow him to the root, but Ste has other ideas. He gets the idea behind it - riding Brendan will make him feel in control, the opposite of what he felt with Warren.
But he wants to feel protected, and he feels that when Brendan's on top of him. When he can feel him, chest to chest, groin to groin, Brendan's lips easily finding his, a hand sweeping back Ste's hair.
"Not like that."
Brendan lets go of Ste, stops guiding him, lets the boy direct him instead. He looks fascinated, wide eyed and awed as Ste lies with his back on the mattress, hands scratching across Brendan's spine, not an inch of space between their bodies.
This is what safety feels like.
Brendan slicks his fingers. Ste's already loose, can feel it, but he doesn't stop him, lets Brendan work two fingers inside him and watch the man's pleasure as he rubs against Ste's prostate, hitting the spot that makes him scream. Brendan lets out a dark chuckle, sounds like triumph, and it's the Brendan that Ste hasn't seen in a while - good at this and knowing he is.
Ste lays an arm over his forehead, trying to use the skin to cool himself down, but it's no use; he can feel the heat everywhere, and the thrill that Brendan's actions give him makes energy spike through him. He feels strong, uses it to wrap his legs around Brendan and drag him towards him, down for what's barely a kiss and more of an exchange of air, sweet and heady.
"I've missed -"
"Me too." Ste listens to the sound of Brendan groaning low in his throat, knows that he's caused that, and it's the biggest high. "Bren..." He's growing impatient, knows that if it were up to Brendan then he'd prolong this, nothing he loves more than adding a third finger alongside his tongue, making Ste beg him to fuck him.
He can't play those games today.
Shame is like a foreign creature. He hasn't seen it in a while, and it doesn't live in this bed, not with him and Brendan. He spreads his legs, positioning his arse to let Brendan know exactly what he wants, a frustrated breath being torn from him.
Ste expects the older man to laugh, but he looks transfixed, like hands tracing along Ste like he can't decide what he wants to touch more. He settles for leaning either side of Ste's arms, supporting himself on one elbow momentarily in order to use his free hand to grasp his cock, tapping it at Ste's entry before pushing in.
Ste feels like he's floating. Feels like he doesn't have control over his body or his reactions or the sounds he's making. He wraps his arms around Brendan's back, teeth secured on the man's shoulder, and the sensation of pleasure combined with pain only makes Brendan move faster inside him, deeper, until he's all the way in. Ste lets out a strangled sob, and Brendan draws back to make sure, needs to check because they're still in new territory here, and the sound of a cry still feels too raw, not what it used to mean between them.
There must be something in Ste's expression - something that tells Brendan how right this is - because he doesn't stop, just keeps a steady rhythm until he can't anymore, and everything becomes chaotic, a frenzy of movements, just how Ste likes it.
"Put the cover off."
"What?" Brendan looks dazed, staring at him with unfocused eyes, balls slapping against Ste's arse.
"The cover - I'm too hot." He's fucking burning.
"But - the officers."
"I don't care."
"I do." There's an edge to Brendan's voice, a trace of possessiveness and jealously that makes Ste grab onto his dick and tug it until it hurts.
He ignores Brendan, sitting up on his elbows as much as he's able to and throwing off the cover, exposing their bodies and feeling the relief of the cold air hitting his skin. He can see even more of him now, the angry red grooves that he's begun to create on Brendan's back, the old scars only just beginning to fade.
All Ste can see on his own skin are the wounds that Warren's left.
"Hurt me." He doesn't know what he's saying.
"What?" Brendan stops, dick still inside Ste, lips unlocking from where they'd been secured around the boy's jaw.
"I mean..." He doesn't mean that. He doesn't want to be hurt. "Mark me." There's a desperate edge to his voice, needs Brendan to understand what he means, but is sure that he won't; why would he understand when Ste can't?
Brendan's eyes soften, and Ste's terrified that he's going to stop, that he's going to pull out of him and it'll be as though this never happened.
But he doesn't. He doesn't stop.
He rotates his hips, a gentle pressure to it that makes pre-come glisten from the head of Ste's dick, and then he dips his head forward, taking Ste's nipple into his mouth and biting, hard.
Brendan begins to replace Warren's marks with his own.