Brendan's waiting for him when he gets back to his cell.
"If you're here to give me grief about Walker..."
"I'm not."
Ste waits for the catch, had envisioned Brendan shouting at him, or at the very least giving him the silent treatment.
"You're not gonna kick off then?" He asks warily, still isn't entirely sure that he isn't about to step into a trap.
"Is that what you think of me?" There's a sadness and guilt behind his words that makes Ste see that he's not putting this on. They're not about to fight over this.
"Sorry." He moves closer, wants to touch him but doesn't know if he's allowed. "I just thought you'd be dead mad at me."
Brendan reaches out and smooths a hand through Ste's hair.
"Maybe I would have been a couple of months ago. But I'm trying to...you know...change." He says it feebly, as though the words aren't concrete enough to deserve conviction.
"You have changed," Ste corrects. He leans forward and kisses him, can't not. It's fleeting and almost chaste, but there's something intimate about it. It calms his jittering nerves for the first time since he found out about Warren and Silas.
"You have changed," he whispers, will repeat it a thousand times if he has to, needs Brendan to believe it.
Ste isn't sure who hugs who first. It's becoming something of a regular thing: hugging. He isn't sure when Brendan became comfortable with this, or when they started doing it, but they're standing in the middle of the corridor and there's the noise of other prisoners close to them, and Brendan's holding on tighter than ever.
Ste doesn't want to let go, and when Brendan makes no attempt to they keep their arms around each other, speaking in muffled tones, breathing the scent of each other in.
"Where were you?"
Brendan takes a moment to answer, and Ste can hear the hesitation in his voice when he does.
"Desmond."
Ste smiles. It doesn't matter that Brendan can't see it. He could burst with pride.
"Did everything go okay?"
"Yeah."
He doesn't care if Brendan's not telling him everything. He knows their sessions are private. He'd only told Amy bits and pieces of what had happened during his anger management and counselling. The fact that Brendan's telling him anything at all feels momentous.
"Walker?" Brendan asks, and it aches to hear the vulnerability there. Ste holds him tighter, hopes that Brendan knows there's nothing to be insecure about. There never has been.
"It's over." He realises how it sounds, like they've been conducting some kind of sordid affair behind his back. "I mean - I said goodbye."
He can feel Brendan kissing against his neck, the roughness of his stubble contrasting with the feather light softness of his lips. Ste's embarrassed when he feels excitement coursing through him. He shouldn't be thinking about that when things are so serious.
"You were wrong though, Bren."
Brendan reluctantly releases him. Ste tries to protest, wants to stay wrapped up in him forever, but he knows he has some explaining to do.
"He's not in love with me."
Brendan's already ready to argue.
He's so in love with you that he thinks the entire world must be.
"He told me. Said he never has been."
"Steven." Brendan shakes his head, laughing. "This is Walker we're talking about. The man won't give the truth when he can lie his way through it."
"I don't think he was lying though."
"It's because you don't know how incredible you are."
Ste colours under the praise, flustered. The way that Brendan talks to him -
He finds it hard to believe that anyone's ever been in love like this.
"No, I mean it," he says, ignoring the compliment because he doesn't know what to say, doesn't have the sufficient words to tell Brendan what it means to him. "You weren't there. You didn't see how genuine he was being. And before you say anything - yes, I know, Walker's a bullshitter. But he meant it this time."
Brendan looks like he's going to say more, but the retort seems to die on his lips.
"Lets go inside." He nods towards his cell. "We can't talk properly out here."
Ste's about to follow when he remembers.
"Doug!"
"My name's Brendan, kid."
"No, Doug. I need to see him. I need to check that he's alright."
"Why wouldn't he be?"
Ste bites his lip, debating whether he should tell the truth. After everything he and Brendan have talked about, about violence and controlling it, and he's gone against all of it.
But he'll find out sooner or later. Doug's black eye is bound to tell him.
"I kind of punched him."
Brendan bursts into a sort of joyous laughter that makes Ste's bemusement soon turn to a scowl.
"It's not funny. I punched him right in the face!"
Brendan clutches his stomach. It's rare that he giggles, and under normal circumstances Ste would love it.
"Jesus, Steven. Why?"
"It was the only way I could get to Tony, to tell him...well, you know, what I was about to tell him." He doesn't want to repeat the foolishness of what he was about to do, and Brendan's expression momentarily clouds over as he remembers.
"You couldn't have just asked the boy nicely?"
"Says Mr I'll punch someone if they don't give me a fry up."
"Man's got to eat in this place," Brendan says, shrugging his shoulders.
"Don't start. I already feel awful about it."
"Did the world a favour if you ask me."
"No one asked you." But Ste's eyes shine; Brendan's happiness is pretty damn hard to hate, even if it is at Doug's expense.
"You don't have to worry about him anyway. I saw him with Lynsey an hour ago. He's fine."
"You sure?" Ste wouldn't be surprised if Brendan was inventing this little tale in order to get him to stay. The worst thing is, he's ready to believe it if it means he doesn't have to go.
"I'd recognise that smug face anywhere, trust me."
"He's gonna hate me."
"If he does I'll punch him for you."
Ste gives him a look.
"What? You want his face to match, don't you?"
Ste tuts, looking away so Brendan doesn't see him grinning. It's not that he agrees with what he's saying; he cares about Doug, he does. He's the closest thing he's had to a male friend since Callum, without the added complications.
But there's something thrilling about Brendan when he's playful like this, and he hasn't seen it in a while. He wants to savour it; wishes he could capture it in a jar and let it out whenever he needs it.
"You can speak to him whenever you want. He's gonna be released soon too, isn't he?" Brendan says quietly, and it sours the mood instantly.
Two days.
"Come on." Ste opens the door, holding it back for Brendan to enter. "Let's have some time. Just for us."
"I'm the one who's supposed to do that, you know." Brendan goes into the room, shrugging out of his jacket, the broadness of his shoulders and the muscles of his arms exposed. Ste wets his lips, can't take his eyes off him.
"What's that?"
"Opening the door for you. Being the gentleman."
"Since when have you ever been a gentleman?"
"Oi. I helped out in cooking class, didn't I?"
Ste smirks. It feels like a lifetime ago, something that belongs in a simpler time. It fills him with warmth, imagining Brendan in that room, surrounded by cooking utensils, donning an apron, helping.
"You never did much though, did you? You left all the hard work to me."
"You don't mess with a genius's work, Steven."
Ste's about to tell him to stop trying to worm his way out by sucking up, but he tries to think back to a time when Brendan's ever done that. It's not his style: he was cold and indifferent when Ste met him, even when it came to getting what he wanted. It makes something like this - real, genuine praise - something that feels infinitely precious and fragile.
"What is this, national be nice to Ste day?" He teases, and he pulls Brendan towards him, just because he can, just because he wants to. It's been a while since they've been like this, touching like they can't stop, and he's missed it. They used to do it all the time, before Warren put a wall between him and everyone else.
Even now, even after they've had sex since the rape happened, Ste's aware of the accelerating rhythm of his heartbeat. He's nervous. He's always been nervous with Brendan; being with someone he wants and loves so intensely holds its own kind of terror, but it's more than that now. The memories of that day in the library still linger, but he has to believe that one day they'll fade.
"No, I'm just...you know..." Brendan drags him closer, both of his hands on Ste's hips, his eyes drawn towards his mouth.
It's because I'm leaving soon. The thought enters Ste's mind, unwanted and cruel in the way in the way it makes him hurt. He wonders if this is what all of this is about - Brendan complimenting him, Brendan wanting to be alone with him. If this is all part of his goodbye.
"What are we going to do about Walker?" He says it because it's easier than what he really wants to say.
"We have to wait. That's all we can do. Wait and see what the police do. And...I'm going to go and see him."
Ste tenses. Brendan senses it, stroking his thigh, hand snaking around to reach for Ste's arse, smoothing a palm over the fabric of his trousers.
"You're not gonna do anything stupid, are you?"
"Like what? There's nothing I can do now."
"If you hurt him -" Ste imagines a prolonged sentence. More years that Brendan spends locked up in here, away from him. Never having a chance to get to know Declan and Padraig, and the men they'll grow into.
"I'm not going to touch him, I promise. Hey." Brendan forces Ste's chin up, making him meet his eyes. "I promise you, Steven. I just need to talk to him. Make sense of things."
"Do you think he's gonna tell you something? About why he killed Warren and Silas?" It seems doubtful; he'd seen the determination on Walker's face. The resilience he'd had against Ste finding out anything.
"I don't know. But I need to see him."
"You better go now. We don't know if he's going to be transferred somewhere else."
He waits for Brendan to leave him. Perhaps he'll find Doug, do his best to apologise. Or he'll find Ethan. It feels impossible to know what to say to a man who's finally free, who's spent years being terrified and tortured, but he's going to have to try. He won't forget him in all this.
"Not now. I'm going to stay here. Make sure you're okay."
"Me?" Ste says, forehead creasing with confusion. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"
"You nearly collapsed earlier."
Ste's embarrassed to recall it. He feels better now, stronger, but if he stands for long enough then the same shakiness starts to enter his body again. If he didn't have Brendan to lean against, he's sure he'd feel like falling.
"I don't know what happened."
"I do. You were in shock."
"Really, I'm fine now. It was silly. You don't have to worry about me."
"I do worry about you," Brendan says quietly, and Ste can feel his hands everywhere, caressing his body, the heat transferring between them. "Lie down on the bed. Get some sleep."
The last thing he wants to do is sleep. He feels exhausted, but he won't waste his last two days. He can't afford to. He has all the time in the world to sleep when he's home. He can't bear to miss anything now.
But Brendan's persuasive, frustratingly so. He kisses Ste until his eyes flutter shut, and the room starts to spin but it's in a good way now. He's being lead backwards by Brendan, and he knows he should fight against it, but he can't when the feel of Brendan's lips, the taste and the smell of him, is too much of a distraction. He's aware of his back lightly touching the bed, and it's lumpy and hard, but Brendan's arms cushion him, enveloping around him until the solidness of the mattress is replaced by the smoothness of Brendan's hands under him.
Ste expects Brendan to carry on kissing him, and he lets out a breathless sigh when he's ripped away.
"What are you doing?"
"Lie on your front."
Ste grins, rolling over with a speed that he didn't know he possessed. He hurriedly pushes down his trousers and underwear, exposing his arse to the chill of the room. He knows an officer could be patrolling, could be looking into the screen window, but he feels too abandoned to care. They've seen him in more compromising positions than this.
He feels a hand touching him, softly moving from his lower back to his arse, and it's felt so long since they've been like this. Ste presses his head into the pillow, making sure to keep himself propped up. He wonders how he must look - knows that the sight is bound to be obscene, his hole feeling like it's fluttering and twitching around the finger that Brendan's using to get his cock to stiffen, his entrance being toyed with.
As suddenly as it's there, it's gone.
Ste looks behind his shoulder, his face a shade of pink that makes Brendan's eyes turn dark with need.
He wants to say please, but that never seems to work. Brendan likes hearing him beg. It'll only prolong this.
"Why?" He chokes out, his eyes travelling to the small set of drawers that lie to their side, where Ste knows that Brendan keeps condoms.
Brendan's gaze follows him, but he keeps resolutely in control.
"Pull your trousers up."
If this is a game they're playing, then Ste wants out. It seems crazy and selfish that they're in the middle of a police investigation and all he can think about is having sex, but he needs this. He needs Brendan to need it too.
"You having a laugh?" His body aches; he feels like he's just been denied an orgasm seconds away from coming.
Brendan shakes his head. "Lets go slow, yeah?"
"Slow?" He feels like he's spitting it out, eyes wide with frustration.
"Trust me."
"Bloody hell." Ste pulls up his trousers. When Brendan tries to kiss him he turns his head away, grumbling when he hears him laughing as he rises from the bed. His heart's in his throat when he thinks that Brendan's getting a condom, that perhaps he's changed his mind after all, but he watches as he grabs a tub of lotion from his drawers instead.
"Time to moisturise, is it?" Annoyance laces his voice. He's seen the extent of Brendan's grooming routine when he thinks he's not looking. He has a green tea moisturiser that he tries to hide at the bottom of his drawers. Sometimes when they kiss Ste can still smell it on him.
"Hmm?"
"What's that for?"
Brendan joins him on the bed again, opening the tub, holding it out to Ste. It's a thick, white consistency. "Smell it."
"You what?"
"Go on."
Ste does as he's told, leaning back and looking at Brendan expectantly, wondering if all of this is meant to mean something.
"Well?" He asks, ego still bruised from having his trousers round his hips instead of where he wants them.
"Remind you of anything?" There's a note of hopefulness that makes Ste think he's said the wrong thing; that there's an answer that Brendan's expecting.
"Give it here again." When he smells it this time a memory begins to come back to him, slowly but gradually growing more vivid. He's smiling by the time Brendan puts the tub down. "You rubbed that into me when you gave me that massage."
He doesn't mention the most humiliating part of the story: that he'd sported an erection that day, brought about by Brendan touching him. That he'd been terrified that Brendan would call him a queer and kill him.
"Ten points for you," Brendan says, seemingly satisfied. "Now lie down. Relax."
Ste understands. It feels slightly ridiculous that he's having a massage after everything that's happened. It feels like world war three's just hit and he's lying back and letting Brendan rub fucking cream into him, like they haven't just survived against all odds. But there's something that's so normal about it that he takes comfort in. They could be like any other couple.
"Just make sure you don't get any on my t-shirt. It's my favourite."
"What, this old thing?" Brendan asks, fingering the material, voice disdainful.
"Want me to kick you in the ankle? I'm in perfect reach."
"Down boy."
They're quiet then. Ste lies back as Brendan lifts his t-shirt up, and after a moment Ste leans on his elbows and helps him to remove it completely. He shivers as the cream is first applied, and he remembers how scared he'd been when Brendan had first touched him, smoothing over the marks and bruises he'd left, his attacker and his healer. He'd never been touched by a man like that before. He wonders if his father had even had a chance to hold him when he was a baby, before he up and left. Terry had touched him like there was something poisonous inside that needed to be beaten from him.
But Brendan -
Brendan touched him because he wanted to. Because he liked it. Because he loved him.
Ste closes his eyes, letting his erection build. He'd desperately tried to stop it the first time they'd done this; had tried to think of something else, had barely even been aware of it growing inside his boxer shorts. The thrill of seeing the excitement in Brendan's eyes is something he'll never forget: that moment when he realised that they both wanted the same thing.
He shifts against the mattress, biting back a moan as Brendan's hand wanders southwards, moving underneath his trousers, a single finger running down his hole. They could have done this before, on Ste's terms - he was right there for Brendan's taking, but he knows that this so often has to be within Brendan's control.
Ste will never tell him that there's a part of him that likes being shown who's boss.
Brendan alternates between massaging his back with the cream and rubbing his fingers along Ste's quivering hole, curling one inside when he wants to, withdrawing it when Ste's close to coming. He does it repeatedly, over and over until Ste's biting down on the pillow, and it feels so familiar that it's not impossible to believe that they're back to that day all those months ago, when they had no idea what was waiting for them.
"No bruises this time."
It's a whisper that Ste almost misses, and he fights against the instinct to turn around and comfort Brendan. He knows he wouldn't want that, and he shouldn't do it - he doesn't want to make excuses for what happened, doesn't want to justify what Brendan did.
"Never again, yeah?" Ste's voice is trembling, and he doesn't know if it's from arousal or the memory of what else Brendan's capable of doing with his hands.
"Never again," Brendan agrees, and he so badly wants it, and Ste so badly wants it for him.
Never again.
"Bren?"
"Yeah?" There's a wariness there, like he thinks Ste's going to mention the past.
"Why weren't you angry with me? I mean about Walker. I thought you'd be jealous."
"Do you want me to be jealous?"
He doesn't blame Brendan for asking. He sounds like he wants him to be jealous.
"No, I just - I don't get why you aren't. Before now, you've always been..."
"Because I know that you love me. I know, Steven."
It's the first time he's ever sounded like he believes it.
"What's changed? I've been wanting you to realise that for months."
Brendan's hands travel over his back in circular movements, the cream soothing against Ste's ribs.
"I don't know. I just realised."
Ste doesn't want to press it. It's enough that Brendan knows. He feels like he's been waiting forever.
"Good. Because you know, all that stuff with Walker - it was only because you weren't there. He knew that too. I just wanted to get back at you for ending things. And for Kevin." Ste's lip curls at the name.
"Nothing ever happened with Kevin."
"So you two didn't...I mean you didn't even kiss him?" He knows the answer, couldn't have lived with not knowing, but he needs to hear it again.
"I haven't kissed anyone else since I met you."
As if to cement his point, Brendan maneuvers his body until their lips can meet. Ste expects it to brief, but their lips linger, their tongues meeting. He feels Brendan's cock rubbing against his arse, and Ste angles it further back to get more friction.
Brendan laughs darkly, the sound transferring between their mouths.
"Had enough of this massage, have you?" He asks, wiping the saliva that's gathered on his moustache.
"I had enough of this massage before it even started."
"Aren't I good? Never had any complaints before."
Ste raises his eyebrows. "Vincent?" Irrational jealousy bubbles to the surface. He's going to hell for hating a boy who's dead.
Brendan laughs, as though the idea's ridiculous. "Eileen. She used to make me give them to her when she was pregnant."
"Ewww." Ste's nose wrinkles in distaste.
"Steven, you knocked that ex of yours up. You still live with that ex."
"Doesn't mean I want to know about your straight adventures with your wife, does it? It'll put me off my dinner."
Brendan grabs him by the arms for the comment, making Ste yelp as he turns him over, the still drying cream wetting the sheets.
"Brendan!" He doesn't know what to expect, jumping in surprise when Brendan takes a handful of the cream and smears it over his cock. He's still fully dressed, Ste naked now, his pants around his ankles as Brendan jerks him off, his body adjusting to the coldness of the cream all over again.
Brendan coats him with it from root to tip, and the slipperiness and the glide feels divine. He thinks Brendan will go slow, but his movements are frantic from the offset, his mouth open and his eyes feasting on the sight of Ste's chest glistening with sweat, his head thrown back against the pillow. It's difficult to get anything close to lube in here, much less the commercial variety, and he's wondering why they didn't use this months ago. They've had to make do with anything they can get their hands on: vaseline, a jar of seedless jam that Brendan had swiped from the kitchens.
Ste puts his hand over Brendan's, controlling the speed, trying to slow him down. Brendan ignores him, scoring his nails across Ste's nipples and making him hiss.
"Stop." It sounds like an echo, barely formed at all.
"Why?" Brendan says, voice like caramel, and Ste feels like he's purring from the sound of it alone.
"I'm gonna -"
He comes before he can say the words. He'd usually last longer, but it's been a while, and the feel of the cream and Brendan's warm touch makes him shudder violently.
Brendan goes to the sink, pants and shirt still intact. Ste thinks it should make him feel vulnerable, being the one who's naked, who's so at Brendan's mercy, but it doesn't. He doesn't feel weak anymore.
Brendan cleans himself off, the remaining traces of the lotion and Ste's come mixing with the water until there's nothing left. After he's toweled himself off, he begins undoing his belt, letting it drop to the floor.
"Come 'ere." Ste wants to be the one to get him naked.
Brendan sits on the bed, helping Ste to shift over until he's straddling him, his arse rubbing against Brendan's dick.
"This is why you shouldn't wear shirts," he says, undoing the buttons one by one, stupid fiddly things which he'd rather do without. Brendan laughs, delighted by the boy's impatience, seeing the way that Ste's body reacts when he gets to the chest hair underneath, his hands trailing over his tattoos as they're revealed inch by inch.
He kisses the large cross that lies on Brendan's arm, as tenderly as he's ever done anything.
It's hard removing his trousers when he's on top of him.
"Maybe I should..." Brendan makes an attempt to stand up.
"No." Ste knows they'll get this done a lot faster if he moves, but it feels too good like this. "Just get your dick out."
"What?" Ste can feel Brendan's pulse fluttering against his hand.
"Leave your pants on. Let me ride you."
After a moments hesitation, Brendan untucks his dick from inside his boxers, pressing it against Ste's rim.
"Wait. We should get a condom."
Ste releases a shaky breath. "Don't. Just -" He just wants to be inside him.
"Steven."
He's right, Ste knows it.
"Don't let me go. Carry me."
Brendan picks him up in his arms, shuffling forward as fast as he's able to with his pants still on, the bottom of them dragging along the floor. Neither of them look at the door; anyone could be looking in, but they're not concerned about that right now.
It's hard to find a condom when Ste's kissing him, mouth lingering anywhere he can get access to, sucking marks into Brendan's neck and jaw, his arms holding on tightly around him. Brendan considers having him here and now, against the wall, but something tells him that they're going to be rough today, after whats felt like so long, and having a bed will help. He doesn't want Ste to make that little ex of his suspicious if he goes home with bruises down his back.
"I can't -" He speaks between kisses, grasping Ste tightly by the cheeks of his arse, enough to leave imprints.
"What?" Ste asks, sounds dazed like he doesn't realise what he's doing.
"I can't fucking see."
"Oh." The boy tears his lips from his, allowing Brendan to rifle through his drawers and find a condom, slamming them roughly closed behind him. They stumble back towards the bed, Brendan's back against the wall, balls aching as Ste fists his dick, forcing it into him even when it feels impossible, even when he's sure he'll break the boy in two.
He doesn't. This thing they do, somehow it's possible, somehow they fit. They always have done, and it's almost a relief to know that time doesn't change anything. Brendan had always imagined things becoming stagnant, had reeled at the idea of staying with one boy for too long. He'd feared boredom, of the sex becoming stale and mechanic, of it being akin to a slow death, tied down to a person who would suck the life from him. Someone who would trap him.
He moves Ste closer until their chests are pressed together, needing the proximity. Everything he used to fear feels far away.
Ste hooks his hands around Brendan. He hans't shaved in a few days, and the boy rubs his face against Brendan's stubble, at the shadow of a beard that's formed there.
"You like that?" Brendan asks, and Ste lets out a sigh as he fucks himself on Brendan's dick, Brendan clutching onto the cheeks of his arse in order to determine some of the speed. He doesn't do more than that: there's something he likes about Ste having control here, something that feels less terrifying than he'd ever imagined. He doesn't know why this feels so different to Vincent and Macca and all the other boys. Maybe it's him. Maybe he's the one who's changed.
At first Ste's dick stays soft, still too overwhelmed by his last orgasm, but Brendan watches as it grows stiffer as the boy angles the head of Brendan's cock right where he wants it, riding him at a speed that sets his senses alight.
Brendan expects him to start touching himself, but when he pleads with Brendan to do it, he wraps a hand around Ste's dick, still sticky with the cream, and moves his hand up and down his shaft, toying with him until his moans indicate that he can't take it anymore. He rocks his hips back and forth, fucking himself on Brendan's cock while he jerks off into his hand, and it's an overload of sensation. Neither of them can last, and Brendan shudders into him violently, nails leaving half moon marks across Ste's shoulders.
They collapse onto the bed, Ste boneless and sated, his limbs splaying uselessly, his eyes closed. Brendan doesn't want to rouse him, doesn't want to say anything to interrupt the moment. There's something blissful about this, lying together in the aftermath, apart at first before they move closer, wrapped in each other like spoons.
Brendan knows he only has a limited time in which to see Walker, but he doesn't try to leave. He feels like he does when he's had a few glasses to drink, but there's none of that bitter aftertaste, none of the dull ache in his head. He knows that when he wakes from this, he'll be happy.
Ste stretches, letting out a yawn. He could do with a few more hours, but he's already wasted enough time. He almost forgets, when he wakes. Almost forgets that he doesn't share a cell with Brendan anymore, and that he won't be able to spend the night with him without some persuasion from Darren or one of the more compliant officers.
He turns in the bed, immediately knowing that Brendan's still asleep from the way he's breathing. He watches him, aware that Brendan would call him creepy for doing so, would accuse him of spying, but he's so beautiful that Ste can't look away. Brendan's a deep sleeper, and Ste reaches out a hand and touches the stubble around his face, confident that he won't wake. He's like a different person when he's asleep. Ste cocks his head to the side, trying to decide whether Brendan looks peaceful, or if even now, there's still something about him that looks troubled, caged. He smooths the frown lines across Brendan's forehead, wishing that he could erase them completely, wishing that he would never worry about anything ever again.
It feels like a burden sometimes, loving someone. Ste struggles to remember a time when Brendan didn't exist in his mind, someone to constantly worry about and need to protect.
He makes a grab for his trousers on the floor, shrugging them on before going to the sink and splashing his face down. There's a residual ache between his legs that feels satisfying rather than bothersome. He'll miss this. He'd thought about missing Brendan - the moods and the laughter and the arguments and everything that comes with him. but it's only now that he thinks how much he'll miss this. He'll miss being fucked by him.
He can only see a small portion of his body in the mirror. He turns around and sees the angry red marks from where Brendan's fingernails have dug into his skin. He traces a single finger down them, wondering if they'll sting, but there's nothing. He doesn't flinch.
He considers going to the canteen and getting something for them to both eat, but he realises with dawning embarrassment that he's still unmistakably aroused. Should he be? Is it even appropriate, after everything that's happened? Sex was the last thing on his mind after what Warren did, but now -
Now it's consuming him, louder than any other thought.
Ste shouldn't wake him. It's not fair. Sleep might be Brendan's only chance to escape from all this, to forget about what he's going through in therapy, and it's a miracle that he sleeps at all after what Seamus did.
But -
Kissing him won't hurt, will it?
Ste tiptoes towards him, covering his upper half with the thin sheets, feeling cold now that he doesn't have Brendan's hands on him, his body on top of him.
He starts with something small, no more than a peck. The gentleness doesn't last for long: it's not his and Brendan's style, and it develops into something more lingering. He wishes he could get Brendan's lips to part. He wants to taste him, to lick the inside of him.
He opens his eyes when he begins to get a response, and sees Brendan smiling against his mouth.
"Everything okay, Steven?" There's amusement in his voice, like he knows exactly what Ste's trying to do.
"Yeah. Just got bored, didn't I?" He kisses him again before Brendan can say anything, hands locking him in place. He doesn't want to be forceful, but he's suddenly all too aware that, even if Brendan lets him visit every chance he gets, they'll still never be able to have sex until he's released. The thought fills him with dread. He knows rationally that there's a million other things they can do - he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of talking, but this - there's nothing like this.
"What did you have in mind?"
Ste's answer is a rough tongued kiss, his hand disappearing under the covers. He grasps Brendan's dick in his palm, feeling it coming to life again, thick and tantalisingly close, and he's never wanted to put his mouth around it more than he has now. He'd know it anywhere; the feel of it, the way it swells in his hand, the perfect size of it, the way it fills him.
Brendan's lips are parting, and he's breathing hot air into Ste's mouth, his knees moving up, his hole exposed to the air and to Ste's gaze, and it's only when he holds Ste's hand that Ste realises that he's asking for something.
He stops, curiosity and the desire to please taking over. He wants to make this as good for Brendan as it's always been for him.
"What do you want?" Ste asks, voice thick with lust, had never understood before now that giving someone else pleasure could feel this rewarding. He likes to believe that he's never been a selfish lover; that Amy, Rae, Noah and all the men he's been with have felt like he was there with him, that he was present. But everything in his life is separated, divided: before his sentence, and after his sentence.
Will Amy see it, when he leaves? Will she ask who the man is that she's sharing her home with? Will she see that he's not the same as he was?
"Give me your hand."
Ste loves it when they do this. Loves. He watches as Brendan coats his fingers of his right hand with spit, licking across his palm, knowing that it's getting Ste hard, that the boy's remembering what he can do to his cock. It's something of a high for them both, and he takes his time with it, only guiding it downwards when he deems it wet enough.
There's a thrill to fingering Brendan that Ste's never quite got over. It's about trust, he thinks, and the idea that Brendan has that trust in him is overwhelming. Ste plays with his dick while he presses two fingers against Brendan's prostate, and he uses Brendan's face as a guide to when it's good, or when he's going too fast, too hard. Soon the lines are blurred, and he's able to push further, more than Brendan would previously let him. Brendan's a quivering mess on the bed, jerking himself off wildly as Ste increases the pressure of his fingers, adding a third and licking a line along Brendan's leg, the hairs there spiking against his tongue.
Brendan doesn't tell him when he's about to come. Ste's covered in it, his hands sticky, and what he doesn't swallow in his mouth he washes away down the sink.
Brendan wants to return the favour.
"What about Walker?" Ste feels almost proud of his selflessness; he wants to come again, badly, but this needs to be done. It needs to be finished.
Brendan groans, pulling Ste closer towards him, nose nuzzling against his hair.
"Later."
"There's not going to be a later," Ste reminds him. He wouldn't be surprised if it was too late already.
Brendan strokes down Ste's front, hands cupping the loose sack of his balls. It takes all the boy's restraint to stop him.
"Go and find him."
His eyes follow Brendan as he stands up, treading on the used and tied condom that he'd left on the floor earlier, swearing under his breath before disposing it. It's quite a sight: Brendan Brady, stark naked, traces of Ste all over him.
When he's put his clothes on, he gives Ste a kiss on the forehead, leaving him in bed.
"I won't be long. Promise."