"It's my turn now."
Steven slithers down Brendan's body, skin slick with sweat and cheeks tinged with pink. His eyes are bright, and there's an unmistakable kind of happiness there that makes Brendan's stomach flutter. He'd feared that he'd never see that again, and the return of it is something that he can't look away from. It's mesmerising.
Brendan's hands are still wet from Steven's come, a faint residue of stickiness left there that he hasn't yet had a chance to wipe away. It had seemed pointless to untangle his limbs from Steven's own as they'd lied facing each other afterwards. The boy's warm and lightly painting, hot breaths ghosting across Brendan's face as he stares at him with unconcealed amazement, his dick soft and nestled between his legs, empty now.
Steven had come first. Brendan had felt it before he'd seen it, but the boy had looked shocked as though he didn't know if he'd ever feel that again, didn't think desire was possible after all that had happened, didn't trust his own body. He hadn't stopped kissing the boy through it, every sound that Steven made being transferred into Brendan's own mouth in a delicious sensation of vibrations, until he started moaning too. He'd come less than a minute after Steven, spilling into the condom and wishing that he was coming inside Steven instead of latex. He'd wanted that with Macca and Vincent for the pleasure alone; with Steven, he wanted it for what it meant. Nothing between them. No barriers.
"What are you -"
Brendan's words are cut off by the boy's movements down his body, Steven settling between his legs with a determined expression that hints at how some things are still scary for him. He remembers the fear of earlier, and the second of doubt that he'd had over whether Steven would run from him completely.
"Lets just get some sleep, yeah?" Brendan's voice is soft, doesn't want to sound patronising but he knows how raw it is, how close Steven still is to falling apart.
"No, I want to do this."
This feels different to sex. More difficult. It has Steven trembling again, but unmistakably aroused; when he shuffles in the bed to make himself more comfortable, Brendan can see his cock rising, getting hard all over again.
Brendan says nothing, knows that this has to be Steven's decision. He's figuring this thing out, and he's never been able to cut through the boy's stubbornness.
Brendan's leg rises from the bed when he feels the damp heat against the head of his cock. He lets out an involuntary noise like he's been winded, and he needs to hold onto something - clamps one hand around the bed railing and the other on Steven's hair, trying not to pull but failing when the boy secures his lips more firmly around Brendan's cock, feeding it into his mouth so that it's not just the tip that's being licked.
He's quiet, feels painful to remain so but he doesn't want to break the atmosphere that's developed in the room. It feels like this is possible, feels like this could be weeks ago before everything changed, before Steven knew what it was like for his body to be used and violated.
He's just Brendan's boy again, the weight gone from his shoulders and the darkness gone from his eyes.
Brendan's head flops back against the pillow, and he dares to move. Dares to stroke the heel of his foot over Steven's arse, gently drawing the boy even closer to his groin, his fingers in Steven's hair as he breathes through his nose and takes Brendan down deep, all the way until his cock's full in his mouth and Brendan lets out a whimper, feels both vulnerable and strong, never thought he could be both.
He can't control what he says when he's like this, whispers good boy and a steady stream of encouragement that makes Steven's hesitance turn to courage.
There's a rhythm to it, a rhythm that has Brendan biting down on his knuckles, doesn't need to set the pace because Steven's doing it for him, taking Brendan right to the back of his throat and back up again, harder than he ever has, tongue working frantically until Brendan's hot come fills his mouth. Steven makes sure he looks at Brendan as he swallows, droplets of come still gathered obscenely at the corner of the boy's lips.
"You..." Brendan laughs, suddenly incapable of speech where moments before he was overcome with it, mumbling Steven's name like a plea.
Steven strokes Brendan's spent cock until the older man hisses.
"Careful." It feels tender, and the boy grins and crawls into Brendan's waiting arms.
"Jesus."
"You liked it then?" He knows he did, says it with an air of smugness that Brendan thinks he should find irritating but he can't; he's missed that confidence.
Brendan kisses against Steven's hair, feeling the boy's dick hard against his leg.
"You want me to take care of that for you?" He gestures down.
"No, you're alright."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I just want to lie here for a bit."
He can feel Steven's heart against his.
"That meant a lot, didn't it?" It comes out all wrong, not the way Brendan would like, the discomfort evident, but Steven doesn't seem to notice, just moves closer to Brendan's chest.
"I didn't think...I didn't think I'd be able to do it. You know -"
"Yeah, I know. It wasn't - it wasn't just for me, was it?" He can't bear the thought that Steven did it out of some sense of guilt or pressure; this has to be because he wanted to.
"No." He shakes his head against Brendan's skin, his damp hair soft as it moves.
"Good. Because you know - if you hadn't been able to do that...nothing would change for me."
Steven turns to face him, elbow digging into the mattress.
"What are you saying - that if I never slept with you again, you'd still -"
"Be here," Brendan finishes. "Yes."
"Don't be daft." There's a frown on Steven's face; he isn't believing this. Any of this.
Brendan reaches out, smoothing the boy's forehead with his thumb.
"Some things are more important," he says quietly, his voice like a hum.
"Brendan Brady is telling me that he could go for the rest of his life without having sex?" Steven grins in disbelief, his lips - Brendan notes with satisfaction - full and taking on an almost swollen appearance.
"Is it so hard to believe?"
"From you, yeah."
Brendan shrugs, not revealing that he's surprised at himself. Can't believe that he means the words he's saying.
"I'm just saying..."
"Well you don't have to anyway, do you? I did it. I...liked it."
Steven's voice is soft, coaxing, and something about it makes Brendan turn to face him. When he does, the boy's lips are inches away from his, his eyes blue and looking at Brendan with more trust than he's ever seen.
It's overwhelming. He's never had this much to lose. He's never wanted to hang onto anything more.
He tastes himself in Steven's mouth as they kiss again, slowly and without an aim; this isn't about working the boy up to fuck him again. There's a different kind of enjoyment to this. He allows himself to take his time, noticing everything that he's taken for granted over these past few months, half fooling himself into believing that he'd have them forever.
He takes in the hint of stubble that brushes against his upper lip as he kisses the boy. It's always been forgotten in favour of other areas: the hair that covers Steven's groin and the dark, dense hair under his armpits that's so strikingly male that it makes heat flood to Brendan's gut. But he lets himself feel it now. He'd always seen Steven as smooth like Vincent, skin like satin. But the stubble's rough against his skin, the effect of a few days without shaving.
It takes a moment for Brendan to realise that Steven's laughing into his mouth. He pulls away, dazed and heavy lidded.
"What?" He feels disorientated in a way that a kiss shouldn't make him feel.
"You're uh..." Steven stares pointedly down at the sheets, and Brendan follows the direction of his gaze, eyebrows darting up in surprise when he sees his cock pointing skyward.
"Oops."
Steven puts his hand around it, not stroking, not quite, but lightly feeling it as it hardens in his grasp.
"What were you thinking about?" The boy's using the tone that drives Brendan crazy with need; it's knowing, like he understands that he holds all the cards here.
Without removing Steven's hand from him, Brendan rolls them so that the boy's on his back, Brendan's chest pressing against his. It's a reminder of their earlier position, and Brendan can see that Steven's thinking about it, getting a trace memory from his touch. Both their cheeks flush pink, Steven's with embarrassment and Brendan with the sensation spreading through him: he could do it all over again, just like that.
He nibbles at Steven's neck. It's become one of his favourite spots, warm and hidden and perfect for him to bury his nose or lips or cheeks into, inhaling the smell of the boy, or falling asleep nestled close. Steven responds immediately, legs circling Brendan's back and drawing him closer, not speaking in words but in pants that shoot straight to Brendan's groin.
He feels uncomfortably hard, and when he hears the sound of a wrapper opening he moves his body to give Steven the room he needs to place the condom on him. He tests his fingers against the boy's hole, staring at Steven with questions in his eyes, but Steven gives him his answer wordlessly with a shake to the head, opening his legs wider to accommodate Brendan's cock, Brendan's fingers trailing to the boy's face instead. He strokes his cheek as he enters him, and Steven pulls him so close that Brendan's sure that he won't be able to breathe. The boy's heartbeat reassures him and makes Brendan give him what he wants until they're sprawled in each others arms, spent.
"You have to promise me something."
Brendan sighs, making no attempt to hide it. He'd settled into a post coital doze and hoped that Steven had done the same.
He fakes sleep for a moment, but the boy elbows him hard enough to let Brendan know that he's aware that he's awake. He grunts in frustration and opens one eye, registering the mess of brown hair and the sweep of eyelashes next to him on the bed.
Brendan's pretty sure he looks like shit warmed up after sex. Steven looks angelic. Untouched. Brendan smirks at the thought: the boy wouldn't be accepted into the gates of heaven after what they've just done. Not the heaven that he learnt about.
"What?" He asks absently, already settling into a more comfortable position, pillows as plump as they're ever likely to be in here.
"Does that mean yes?"
"Huh?" He has the sudden worry that Steven's using his exhausted state to his advantage, trying to make him agree to things that he's in no position to answer to.
"Do you promise?"
"I have no idea what it even is yet," he grumbles, trying to get the boy to settle into the crook of his elbow, irritation growing when he moves out of reach.
He doesn't have to look at Steven to know that he'll be nibbling his lip, a deep crease of concern running across his forehead. He can hear it in his voice: he's nervous.
"Go on then." Strange, how making the boy scared seemed so appealing when they first met. It makes Brendan feel unsettled now. Like he's taking advantage, trying to control something which ought to be free.
"Don't go after Warren or Silas. Please."
Brendan snorts.
"This is coming from you? Steven, you were plotting Warren's death a few hours ago."
"I've changed my mind, haven't I? And it was stupid, wasn't it? I would have failed, would have been found out. But you..." There's a tremor in his voice that makes Brendan's blood run cold. He can imagine what Steven's thinking.
"You think I'm capable? Because I've done it before?" He doesn't mean it to be vicious. He can't play the blame game, doesn't have the legs to stand on, not about this. Everything the boy thinks about him is true.
"I just mean...you hate them enough to do it, don't you? Even more than me, and I..."
Brendan opens his eyes, sees the flash of anger that appears.
"I hate them a lot." His jaw's locked together like he's trying to force something down, something too furious to be released. "They're going to come back, aren't they?"
Brendan hesitates. He forgets sometimes how young Steven is, how years ago he was a mere teenager. He doesn't know if it was from the council estate or Pauline and Terry, but something tells Brendan that he was wrong to ever believe that he could speak down to Steven, that he wouldn't understand. He understands everything.
"Yes." He can't lie: Steven's worth more than that.
"Soon."
"Yes."
"And you want to kill them, don't you?"
"Yes. And I will."
"No." Steven sits up in bed, eyes urgent. He grabs his shirt from the floor, seeming to think that this isn't the kind of conversation that they should be having naked, as though Brendan won't listen to him if they are. "Brendan, no."
Brendan breathes in deeply, steeling himself for an argument that he wants to avoid. He knew this was coming, that Steven would work it out sooner or later, once he got over his own futile revenge mission.
"It's the way this has got to end," he says simply.
"Fuck off."
Brendan rolls his eyes. He's used to this. Jesus, he'd be worried if the boy didn't react like this - it's what he does. Brendan had almost wanted it, in all its familiarity.
"Silas organised this, he dies. Warren..." He looks to the ceiling. It doesn't get any easier. "Warren raped you, he dies." He forces himself to say the words. It gives him the conviction he needs in order to do this. He never thought he'd have a body count of three.
The way Steven's looking at him, it's like he wants to kill him.
"You're gonna be good."
Brendan stays silent, doesn't have the energy to point out the ridiculousness of what Steven's saying. It's as thought the boy's taken on the role of the adult, and Brendan's the unruly child who needs to be kept in line.
"You're gonna stay in here"
Brendan almost interrupts, wants to point out that he doesn't exactly have a choice.
"And you're gonna keep your head down, do your time. First thing I do when I get out, I start dropping hints to Amy. She's bound to notice anyway, isn't she? All the phone calls and visits that I'll be making. It's not like she'll believe that I'll be going out with the lads - she'll ask me if I'm seeing someone, and I'll tell her."
"You tried this already, remember?" It's still all too vivid in Brendan's mind, Steven being too ashamed of him to tell her the truth. "She'll never understand." He can hear the defeat in his voice, wonders if Steven can hear it too.
"I'll explain it to her until she does. I'll...I don't know, I'll tell her that you and your dad never got on, that you had problems -"
"Don't." Brendan stands up, towering over Steven, but he still feels smaller. He grabs his clothes from the floor, throwing on his shirt and doing up his trousers roughly. "Don't tell her about what Seamus...please, Steven. Don't."
"I won't." But there's a ounce of hesitation there, and it twists in Brendan's stomach. He can already see the pity in Amy's eyes. "I swear, I won't. But she will understand, Bren."
"What, so you feed her some story about how my dad didn't give me enough sweets as a kid so I killed him? Come on, nothing's going to justify that to her. Nothing could." Nothing ever has. The psychiatrists, the lawyers, the nurses. Nothing's ever come close to replacing the seed of disgust that grows in their minds when they find out what he's done.
"What about Doug and Lynsey - they've not exactly got it easy either, have they? But they're not giving up."
"Jesus, Steven. I wish I was a teacher and it was my pupil that I was fucking - I wish that's all it was. No one will even care in five or ten years that they knew each other in here. They'll be able to move in together, start a family, get married. Do you think we'll ever be able to do all that?"
Steven looks up at him from under his lashes, lower lip quivering. "Do you want to do all that?"
Brendan plays with the buckle of his belt, running his fingers over the cold metal and hating himself for not being able to look at the boy.
"Maybe."
The spark of hope makes Steven steps closer, hands on Brendan's shoulders to steer the older man towards him, forcing him to look.
He vaguely remembers hating Steven's hopefulness when they first met. It felt teasing, like the boy was mocking him for what he'd never have.
It's only now that he's felt some of that hope too that he realises how much he loves it.
"I can't live my life without you. I love you, and I think - I know that you love me too. Be brave, Bren. Don't stay here. Don't give up. Don't kill Warren and Silas - don't think that you're doing it for me, because you're not. They can't touch me out there, not while they're rotting away in here. Fight, Brendan. Fight with me. Fight for me. Stop hating yourself, and stop punishing yourself. Come home with me."