Dancer for Money - Chapter 1

TITLE: Dancer for Money

AUTHOR: Dice

CHARACTERS: too many, it's m/m

FEEDBACK: You know it ;-)

WARNINGS: Angst and sex and references to drug use...

Author's note: No spankings yet, but if you read between the lines you might catch that there is a dp relationship already mentioned.

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We sit across from each other. He shakes another cigarette out of his case. It's a small silver case; a gift from Him. He lights it and I pretend not to choke on the sharp smell as he blows the smoke into my face. I could never stand the brand he uses.

I've run out of things to say. He's quiet too. We haven't talked for so long and we really never had anything in common, except for Him. I look out at the rain. It hasn't shown any signs of letting up since we came in here.

I fiddle with my coffee cup and I study him. There's lines on his face now that weren't there before.

"So that's what you do now, is it, dance?" he asks. It's a minor modification of a question he's posed twice already.

"I guess," I reply, still shirking the issue, he doesn't have to know what kind of dancing.

"Pays well?" he continues, I shrug slightly.

"Covers the bills, and you… I heard you quit…" I stop talking, his face grows dark. He wouldn't want to talk about that I guess. It's history, their history.

A passing car sends a wave from the gutter up over the pavement. Muddy droplets trail down the window. I fiddle with my cup again, but keep my eyes on the road outside.

"Damn rain won't let up, will it?" I laugh nervously, my stomach filling with ice. God, I'm so late, I shouldn't have taken him up on the coffee, should've gone straight to the club.

"You can share a taxi with me… if you have some place to be?" he says quietly and against my better judgement I smile weakly and nod.

I decide, as we get into the taxi, that I'll ask him to let me off at the park, the club's not far and if I run…

"Waterby Road," he says before I can express my wishes. I sink back into the seat and swallow, the club's on Waterby Road.

I don't have to ask how he knew. He's seen me there of course. He knew all the time while he watched me avoid his questions. I can't look at him.

I shouldn't feel ashamed. I rarely do, most guys find it exciting what I do. But it's different with him. I never wanted him to judge me, his opinion always worried me, not that he ever expressed any views on me back then, it was all about Him then. All about Alex, lucky, care-free, gorgeous Alex, dazzling, enchanting, dangerous, dumb, crazy…

"He always said I looked best with my clothes off…" I say, no I snap, I don't know why, I just can't stand the feeling of Him being this missing, yet nearly tangible participant in our conversation.

"He said many things…" he agrees with me. I wish he had reacted more, become angry, thrown me out of the car… anything but the quiet sadness I see when glancing at him. "He wasn't often right," he ads quietly.

I can't reply. He's hit the nail on its head. I start crying, at first I don't notice, but then the tears fall down on my hands and I wipe them away, angry with myself.

We sit there, the air thick with unspeakable words. Neither of us brave enough to delve into the chasm that awaits us beyond the one thing that brings us together.

He doesn't drop me off, he walks me in. I can't bring myself to stop him and Sam just grins a little and nods us through. The brawny, dark skinned man is used to seeing me with older men, he teases me about it in his taciturn way in the after hours when we have a fag together wait-ing for the bus, says I should go home with him sometime.

I give Nick a shrug when he asks where the hell I've been and then there's Guy. There's no shrugging him off, he sticks his face up close to mine and spews a garlic stinking lecture all over me.

I take it, but can't forget about my silent shadow waiting close by, melting into the few as-sembled regulars and sticking out like a sore thumb with his well mannered request for a whiskey. Guy looks him over from over my shoulder and sneers at me.

"I told you, no boyfriends!" he says but leaves it at that.

I walk up to him as he sits down in the back, I know I should be getting ready. Nick is waving frantically for me, but I can't go yet.

"You staying?" I ask.

"Do you mind?" he returns, a warning in his voice that I can't quite understand.

"You know I do…" I whisper.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why? I've obviously seen you before, hell I've seen you dancing on my living room table…" he seems to be getting me back for my snide remark in the car.

I break.

I pick up the glass from the table and smash it on the floor and then sink down crying. Almost a year. He's been gone for a year and I haven't wanted to think about it, haven't wanted to remember all those times, and now the memories overwhelm me. We were so pissed, they'd had a fight, another fight and Alex was plotting his revenge. Walking on the ledge…

`I'm immortal Jamie, look at me!'

Guy is screaming at me, but I'm lost. There's no turning back now, the floodgates are opened and I can't even catch my breath. My voice is hollow and it frightens me, I can't hold back. Then strong hands on my arms, someone is picking me up from the floor and I turn my face into Sam's tight black t-shirt and let him carry me into the back.

Sam puts me on the sofa, wresting my clinging hands from his shirt and then he leaves. Nick is beside me, stroking my hair from my face. He kneels by the coffee table, handing me a glass of water, then quietly makes a thin, white line on the coaster.

I try to drink the water, but cough most of it up again. I take the straw from his hand before the doubts set in.

"Oi," Sam gives a nod as I sit down beside him. The streetlight gutters.

"Got any?" I drive my hands into my armpits, there's a chill in the air. The hood of my shirt is pulled down low over my face.

He takes a crumpled pack from his jean pocket and sticks out a cigarette for me. I take a token drag and then I just hold it in my hand. I'm coming down and fast.

I stare at the stacks of wet, brown leaves on the pavement, the rain's let up at last. Predictably depression's setting in. I rock slowly and take another drag. I have to get home and sleep it off. I have to pretend I'm stronger than this, but I'm swirling into a black cesspit of despair and I won't make it home.

"All right there, mate?" Sam's voice is a quiet rumble next to me.

"I'm good," I lie and put out the cigarette, handing him back the remains.

"You're not," he shrugs.

I nod. Slowly my head falls down on his shoulder and after a moment his arm comes up around me. He smells of sweat and smoke and vaguely of liquor and vomit. We sit there until the bus arrives and when it does he stands, shrugging out of his jacket and placing it around my shoulders.

I go home with him.

It's rushed and feverish; neither of us in a mood for subtlety. He tears his t-shirt off and pushes me down on his narrow bed, ripping my jeans off me in one quick pull while I fight to be free of my shirt. Every muscle on his body is defined and bulging, mine is lithe and sinewy.

There's a moment of complete still while his trembling hands work the rubber onto his strain-ing cock. He bends over me and I wrap my arms around his shoulders. It's a little bit awkward, but intense. He fucks me hard and deep; there's pain, but I relish in it, drink it down and let him own me.

I fall asleep with my arm resting on his chest.

The morning outside his small window is bleak and wet when I wake up, promising another rainy day. I'm alone. My jeans and my shirt lie folded on the swivel chair by his desk; the computer screen is black, but the hard drive is humming slightly.

I slip into the outer room. I make no sound and for a moment I watch him move in the small kitchen, unaware of me. He is wearing an unbuttoned short sleeved shirt and my stomach jolts as I get a glimpse of his muscular abdomen as he takes the pot from the boiler and pours into two mugs and then he snatches the hot toast from the toaster, juggling it slightly and blowing on his fingers; I catch myself smiling.

"Oi," I say and he looks over at me, a funny little half smile on his lips.

"Toast?" he asks, holding a slice up as evidence, I shrug and nod.

I sip at the tea. Hot and sweet. I rarely stay for breakfast, part of me always wary of seeing my actions exposed in the stark daylight. But this is rather nice.

"Tired?" he says and I give a vague nod. "That shit isn't you, you know?"

I put the mug down and take another slice of toast, not responding, pretending that he didn't bring it up. I look out into his apartment, it's bigger than mine, older and more worn. Still, it feels lived in, not like my empty bookshelves and mismatched chairs.

"Right," he says and gets up from his seat.

He makes too much noise washing his mug; his movements are hastened and rough. He seems suddenly as intimidating to me as he might to the unlucky bastards who get on the wrong side of him at the club.

I get up and head for the door. I don't say anything and he doesn't look up.

As my hand closes on the door handle another closes over mine. His breath is on my neck and I feel him press against my back. A tremble runs through me.

"Always clear off when you get uncomfortable, eh?" he says and I let my hand drop, his stays on the handle. "You worry me, all right?"

"Ain't yours to worry about," I mutter.

"Fuck you, Jamie. God, fuck you!" the muscles in his arm bunch as his fist clench in front of me and I wonder absently if maybe he will hit me. I wonder how it might feel.

"You already did!" I push.

"Go to hell, you little shit!" he sounds more weary than angry and I nod my head slightly and then rest my forehead against the door in front of me.

"Sorry," my voice is dull, distant. "The sex was good though…" I hear him snort behind me and then chuckle in a slightly cynical tone.

I turn around, still slumped against the door with him still leaning over me, his breath smells of coffee. I give him a half smile and trail a hand up to the collar of his shirt, holding on, he shakes his head, but his eyes light up.

"That guy…" I give my head a sharp shake and feel my face harden, my hand drops from his shirt, he rolls his eyes. "OK, I won't ask, you're not seeing him again though… right?"

"Never saw him in the first place, he…" I begin, then shake my head again and shrug. "I should…" I nod at the door behind me, for the longest moment he just watch me, eyes soft and searching.

"Later," he says finally and steps back. I swallow and just stand there wanting to speak, but there's nothing to say. He reaches out a hand and nudges my chin up giving me a grin, one that strikes a cord I me and I straighten up and kiss his cheek, just brush against it with my lips before I turn and leave.

TBC

Dancer for Money - Chapter 2

Title: Dancer for Money ch2
Author: Dice
Pairings: Sam/Jamie
Warning: references to drug-use and loads of foul language
Feedback: Yes please, any kind welcome

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"Hullo," I look up at Sam and he gives me a nod. He's inside tonight, traded with Dean for some reason.

"Hey," I say awkwardly, I hadn't been sure I'd be able to look him in the eye tonight, but now that he's standing there, leaning casually against the wall at the backstage door it feels good to see him.

I tilt my head and give him my usual wicked grin and wink as I walk past him. He follows me with his gaze and just as I'm about to open the door he slips a hand around my arm and ap-plies enough pressure to stop me dead. I check his face quickly, but he just looks at me quietly.

"What?" I swallow, he's too bloody strong for my comfort.

"Don't do nuthin' stupid tonight, all right?" he says and then lets me go and, taking his eyes off me as if he neither expects or cares whether he gets a response, he moves away to make the rounds and I stare after him for a moment, then look down at my feet.

I know the feeling that's creeping up on me. It's familiar enough, although I used to tell my-self that it was a useless emotion, one that would just pull me down and drown me, only…

I decisively shake it, it doesn't matter, nothing matters. I swing the door open, then slam it shut behind me, working myself into anger.

"What?" Nick says.

"Sam," I return as if it was answer enough.

"Oh?" Nick gathers his things. "You owe me…" he continues without looking at me.

Damn it. Of course he'd pull that shit on me, why wouldn't he? It's not as if he grows the stuff in his backyard. I cringe and begin forming a response, but none can really end with me giving him money.

"Hell, Nick, my rent is due… fuck…"

"Find some trick then, fuck if I care how you get it!" he says and gives me a look before he gets up and pushes passed me. Then he stops and turns, the look on his face changing to a calculating one that sends chills down my spine. "Or… if you're interested… I'll let you have it for free if you do me a favour."

Shit, shit, shit. Favours for Nick, that would be one of those stupid things Sam was talking about. But I really don't have the money, doesn't matter what meagre tips I earn tonight, Nick will want more than what Guy lets me keep and the damn rent really is due, late actually if you want to be picky about it.

Caught between the unspoken threat of Nick's associates and the less than appealing idea of being homeless if the landlord catches me without cash, I finally shrug and nod my head, he doesn't say anything more, just leaves for the stage.

I'm up next, I swallow the acid in my mouth and start to change.

****

Dean hauls the last shitfaced loiterer up from his chair, dragging him towards the exit. I stare dark eyed after them, another night over. Nick brushes past me, squeezing my hand as he goes past without even a look back and heads out. I slip the small key into my jeans pocket and roll my head, listening to the crackling of my neck.

I'm in no way up for this.

Letting myself out through the backdoor I find myself in the back alley, the stench of old trash from the dumpster curdling my insides. It's dark, the light over the door long since broken, I move to stand just out of reach of the streetlights, not certain what I'm waiting for.

The door slams behind me, startling me and I turn to the sound of a lighter, the quick flare lights up Sam's face. He doesn't seem surprised to see me, obviously saw me leave. He comes towards me and I can't take my eyes of him; a prowling predator bathed in darkness and mist.

He stops beside me, tilts his head and takes a drag of the cigarette before passing it to me, I take it, feeling the tremble of my hand as our fingers meet.

"Are you hustling?" he takes another cigarette out and lights it.

"What if I am?" I hold the cigarette between cold fingers, trying to make him look away, but he simply returns my glare until I'm the one who turns away.

"Me and Dean threw some real arseholes out tonight, probably still around," he says.

Fair enough, good of him to warn me, I've had my share of disturbing encounters with the dregs who can't even measure up to the low standards of the dive Guy runs.

"I'm not hustling," I assure him.

"So what are you doing?" he counters and I have another try at staring him down, but fail and resort to rolling my eyes instead, sneering.

"None of your business, is it?" I say.

He draws closer, leaning his dark hand on the wall behind me and I press my back against the bricks looking up at him. He doesn't speak at first and I am about to tell him to get off my back when he leans in and catches my lips in a relentless kiss. I kiss him back without thinking and feel my head reel with the sensation, I close my eyes and drown in it.

Then he pulls away, breathing heavily.

"I think I'm making you my business," he says and I snap back to reality and give him an angry shove.

"I'm nobody's business but my own!" I snarl and turn to walk away, but his hand is around my arm turning me around again and I glare at him. "Look, I like you, Sam, let's keep it that way!" I say warningly.

"What good will that do me if you're dug out of a dumpster tomorrow morning?" he returns and I snatch my arm out of his grip.

"Fuck off!" I hiss. I really don't have time for this; the key in my pocket feels like a lead weight and I need to go now. "Just leave me the hell alone!" I back away and this time he lets me go, only his eyes following me into the night.

****
I still feel as though Sam's watching when I get off the bus at the last stop on Eastern, the driver turns the engine off and snaps open a news paper. He gives me a glare in the rear view mirror when I hesitate at the door and I jump out. The doors close even as I'm still touching them. I feel an urge to kick a dent in the side of the bus, but it wouldn't be clever being no-ticed out here.

I pull my hood down a little more and shove my hands into my pockets. I try to walk calmly as if I'm on my way home, but I sense the nervous spring in my step and the twitch in my neck every time I have to prevent myself from turning around sharply at a noise.

There are mainly businesses and warehouses in this area. I've worked here on odd jobs and know my way around, even waited tables at a small café for a few weeks before I gave it up, didn't even stay long enough to get paid.

It doesn't take long to track down the place where Nick has asked me to pay a visit. It's a small building squared away in the corner of a large parking lot. Over a dark window with a metal grate pulled down across it, an unremarkable sign spells out the equally unremarkable name. I draw a shaky breath and grip the key in my pocket – it's not for the front door.

I skirt around the edge of the parking lot, ending up at the entrance to a narrow ally where someone has parked a muddy van. I press against the wall and clamber over a couple of crates and then I'm standing in front of a backdoor with a large padlock. I squeeze the key. My teeth are rattling now – there's still a chance to go back, catch the next bus and tell Nick… tell Nick what?

I pull out the key and wrap the sleeve of my sweater around my hand as I grab the lock. I will the key not to fit as I fumble with it, but it slips right in and I turn it; the click echoes in the silence. I stiffen, a car passes somewhere in the distance and then nothing again.

I still keep my hand inside my sleeve as I push the door open. Just in and out, lock the door and no one will ever know I was here. The storage room is pitch black and I obviously have no torch and no lighter. I let the door close behind me and then I stand in the dark until my eyes adjust and I see the shapes of shelves and boxes. Then I edge forward and exit the backroom and come into the front. The grate across the window casts jagged shadows on the tile floor.

Nick's instructions left me with little doubt as to what to take and where it is and I steer my steps towards the manager's office, but as I turn the handle the door refuses to budge. I nearly laugh out loud.

I back up and look around. Entering a building with a key is one thing, breaking into a locked office is another. I stare at the door and then close my eyes.

The kick breaks the doorframe and I wince at the noise, but the door fly open, slamming into a filing cabinet. I wait tensely for some evidence that my actions has dropped me in it, but there's nothing. I move forward and walk behind the desk, careful not to touch the knobs with my bare hands as I open the drawers. Bottom left I find what I'm looking for, a green and blue plastic bag with a tin box in it. I didn't ask Nick what was in it and I won't; perhaps he doesn't know either.

I pull the office door closed behind me, surprised when it snaps in place despite the broken frame. Then I make my way through the unlit storage area, knocking my knee into a shelve, I curse under my breath and then I'm finally out the backdoor.

The van is gone.

Standing there immovable, my mind races. I know I have to act and quickly before anyone notices me – whoever moved the van could be coming right back. I unhitch the lock from the latch and lock it, then realise I touched it and hurriedly wipe it with my sleeve.

"Oi! You! What the fuck are you up to back there?!"

I drop the key on the ground, frantically snatching the plastic bag up. Backing into the wire fence behind me I watch as the shape of a man moves towards me, vaguely backlit from the lights in the parking lot. There's no way to get by him, he is hefty and the narrow alley isn't wide enough for me to dodge him. I press harder against the fence and suddenly feel it give behind me. I fall onto the asphalt on the other side, my jeans shredding on the metal fence and my foot catching in the narrow gap. The plastic bag is ripped open and the tin box clatter to the ground.

The man lurch forward, cursing and hollering and I tear my foot loose from the fence, my shoe coming halfway off. Grabbing the can I stumble down the street, pressing my foot back into the shoe, not caring where I am or if I'm going the right way I run blindly, the box pressed against my chest.

I've probably run for half an hour before finally my lungs give out and I see only black swirls before my eyes. I lean forward against an anonymous brick wall, panting with my head resting in the crook of my arm and my chest aching with every indrawn breath. My muscles burn and I want to throw up.

The tin box dangle in my left hand, miraculously unscathed. I realise, looking at it from the corner of my eye, that it has a lock, which was why it didn't open when it fell to the ground. I place it under my arm and turn to slump heavily against the wall. Sweat is dripping off me and the cold early morning air chill me to the core, but I know that isn't why I'm shaking.

When I finally manage to force myself to move again I feel a stab of pain in my leg. I look down and see that the tear in my jeans is dark with blood, I grit my teeth. I look around; prac-tically alone but for a truck being unloaded across the street and further down some people are moving into a building that just opened.

I set the box down and slip my sweater off, then my t-shirt which I rip in half and tie around the bloody gap before pulling the sweater on again and the hood down over my forehead. Then, the box tucked securely into my armpit, I start walking.

****
The knocking is getting to me. A steady hammering that just won't stop. I finally lift the pil-low off my face and roll out of bed. My legs are wobbly and I steady myself on the dead man's chair and then on the bookcase and then the wall. I stumble to the door and open it, it's caught and pulled out of my hand, safety chain long since torn off in a row with someone I should've paid back before I had to pay interest in bruises.

"Where the hell have you been?" I wince and lock eyes with Sam, startled by his presence and by the evident anger in his voice. I don't know what to say so I shake my head vaguely, it's not the answer he's looking for. "Are you gonna let me in?" he asks, I shake my head again. "Right."

He remains where he is, looking at me so hard he might as well be smacking me upside the head. My nonexistent resolve weakens and I step back, letting him by. He hesitates for a mo-ment and then moves past.

The apartment holds no interest for him and he doesn't appear to see any of it, he only turns to look at me, his arms folding across his chest and his muscles flexing unnervingly under the black leather jacket; I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. I don't even know what time it is, only that it's dark outside and my head is pounding.

"Want a beer?" I ask, hearing how vapid I sound even as I see his face darken.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" I flinch back as he throws out his hands. "Where the hell have you been at, you little shit?"

"What's it to you?! God, leave me alone!" I respond in kind. "What the hell right do you have…"

"You haven't shown up at the club for two bloody days!" he shoots me down and I stare at him not quite sure I heard right.

I remember coming home and I remember putting the box… I drop to my knees and dig through the duffel bag under my bed until my hands close around the hard, cold tin box, I don't take it out, just shove it back under the bed. Sam's hand on my shoulder tighten around the fabric of my sweater and he pulls me up grabbing me around both arms and then he shakes me once, hard.

"Where were you?" he barks at me and I want to tell him to fuck off, but faced with his over-powering strength I can't get the words out so I just look at him.

"None of your business…" I trail off, he lets me go with a small shove and a sound of disgust and then moves back.

I can't look at him, shame burns in my stomach like battery acid and my head is still pounding. I want him to leave and I want to crawl back into bed and just die. I can't get my head around losing two days, it doesn't make sense. It's not like it never happened before, but usually there have been vast amounts of alcohol or something stronger involved, just sleeping away two days shouldn't happen…

Fuck, I probably lost my job too! I'm about to ask Sam when he steps up past me and pulls the covers off my bed.

"The hell is that?" he says and I turn around to look at the bed.

At the lower end of it the sheets are stained nearly black and I look automatically down at my leg where the t-shirt covers the tear in my jeans, it's soaked through. His eyes follow mine and he lets out a grunt, grabbing my arm. He pulls me over to the armchair and stands me in front of it.

"Take off your jeans!"

"What?"

"Just fucking do it, or I will!" he orders and my hands obey despite their trembling. I slip the jeans off, as usual I don't wear underwear, but he doesn't pay attention to anything above my knees, he simply shoves me into the chair and kneels down beside me. "What did you do?"

He examines the gash, it's long and deeper than I thought, although it seems to have closed under the dried blood. It makes me a little sick to think I've been lying in my bed bleeding for two days. I don't answer him. There's nothing to say that he'd like to hear or that I'd like to share.

The sting on my bare thigh is so sudden and startling I cry out and nearly jump up, but he holds me back and I take an angry swipe at his shoulder that he barely acknowledges.

"Just fucking tell me!" he says.

"I hurt it on a fence!" I answer coldly.

"On a fence? Where?"

"Somewhere…" he looks at me with those hard eyes again. "I was doing Nick a favour!" I bite out in a muffled voice.

He looks at me, his eyes still hard, but filled with disbelief; then he gets up. For a second I think he'll walk out, but then he leans over me and I only have time to see the purpose in his eyes before he roughly turns me on my side against the armrest and cracks his palm down on my unprotected arse.

I fight unsuccessfully to get up, but he's holding me down with his weight and a strength that allows him to toss grown men into the street at will. My slight built has nothing on him and I know it, but can't stop myself from trying to get away from the searing pain he's inflicting.

"Ow, ow, Sam! Don't! Damn you!" I try to hit him, try to make myself angry instead of mis-erable, instead of frightened and vulnerable, but all he does is force me higher up on the arm-rest and spanks harder.

He doesn't hold back, he delivers one firm, deliberate smack after another while I squirm and thrash. I'm fighting myself more than him now, trying not to cry out, but tears are welling up and I hate myself for it, it's childish, weak.

"Sam! Stop!" I'm desperate enough to plead. "Please, you have to stop! Please, Sam!" He doesn't respond and he doesn't stop. A sob escapes and then a gasp and then I come undone, burrowing my head into the upholstery, silently letting the tears flow.

He stops. His hand rubs at the back of my neck for a moment in quiet recognition and he re-lents, backing off. I stay where I am, hiding my face and letting the tears dry up. My stomach keeps convulsing even after I stop sobbing, but I get myself under control and sit back up, wiping my runny nose on my hand and sleeve.

"I thought you were smarter, Jamie," he tells me and I nod my head mutely in agreement. He crouches down in front of me, a hand stroking my thigh, I wince and he lowers it to my calf and the messy cut. "Do you have anything to use for this?"

"Like what?" I mumble and he rolls his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Like bandages, antiseptics… nothing?" he frowns and stands up again. "Right. OK, suppose you're coming with me then," he resolves and fetters me with a grim look when I begin to squeak a protest, I sink deeper into the armchair and stare at the floor.



The antiseptic stings like fire down my leg and I twitch aside and thump him with my fist, he snatches my wrist as he sways backwards and glares at me.

"Do it again, I dare you!" he growls.

"Fuck you!" I return.

"You already did," he throws my own words back in my face and I fight the temptation to stick my tongue out at him.

He cleans the gash in my leg carefully, it starts bleeding as he's working and he asks me to hold a towel against it while he gets some strips, I raise an eyebrow and he shrugs; he uses them to close up the gash and then he wraps a bandage around my leg. It's evident that this isn't the first time he's done this.

Gathering up the remaining bits and pieces he takes the bloody towel from my hand and then he vanishes into the bathroom again. He doesn't close the door and I hear him move around.

The apartment looks no different today from the night before, the same pale green and brown tile in the kitchen and the same drooping flower on the windowsill behind the couch, but all the same everything has changed. I roll down the leg of my only other pair of jeans and then lean back in the kitchen chair, allowing the twinge of pain in my buttocks to carry over into a duller sensation that is still painful, but which I feel better for being able to bear without cringing.

I wait. He washes his hands and I hear the water running for a long time and then it's quiet. I wait a little while longer, rubbing my thigh with a hand that's beginning to sweat. I shift my feet under the table to prevent them tapping tensely.

When he comes out he stays across the room from me, leaning his shoulder against the wall with folded arms, simply watching me with an impenetrable look in his eye. My foot start tap-ping again.

"You hungry?" he asks and I take my eyes off him and look at my hands in my lap. I nod without looking up, I'm not really hungry, but well aware that I haven't eaten for over two days. "I could go for that beer `bout now, you?" I nod again.

He warms some leftover stew with noodles and nods me over to the couch as he places the plate and a beer on the coffee table, sitting himself down in the other corner, dangling an arm over the back of the couch and opening the beer with one hand. I don't move, looking at him my stomach quiver at the sight of his bare forearm, swung out as if inviting me in, the shirt-sleeve rolled up casually.

I slowly stand and purposely take the route that forces me to brush against his legs when I sit down, he doesn't budge, but I see a glint in his eye and the slight twitch of his lip. I wet my lip and chew absentmindedly on the lower left side of it, he lifts the beer to his and drinks unhurriedly.

I give him a sharp push with my knee so that he spills some and then, as he wipes his chin with a stifled curse, I slip down in the couch, pulling a leg up in front of me in defence. He gives me a glare that's completely ruined by the grin he can't prevent.

"You're really asking for it!" he says and I grin back.

"Uh uh, don't get any ideas!" I deny the accusation passionately.

He relaxes back into the couch, propping up an elbow so he can rest his head in his hand, he's watching me again with that look I can't read. I pick up the fork and dig into the food, it's spicy and tastes of curry, which I don't really like, but I eat anyway.

"Not the first time, eh?" it's not really a question and I can't think of a response so I just shrug and keep eating. He's still watching me.

"Why?" I say indifferently when the silence begins to get to me.

"Am I wrong?" he returns and I sneer a little; he laughs. "So?" he prods for more information, but that I'm not willing to give, so again I just shrug vaguely and turn my attention back to the now almost empty plate. "Right."

That curt little word says an annoying lot. I give him a tired look, he wouldn't even begin to understand if I told him. I set the fork down. The beer remains unopened on the table.

"I should go…" I state and start to get up.

"Right."

There it is again, now with a slight sarcastic tone that grates on my temper. He takes another swig of his beer and then holds the can with both hands looking at it, his head shaking slowly as if in response to his thoughts. I stand up completely, wiping my hands on my jeans. Now it's my turn to lean over him, eyes hard and jaw set, I place my hand on the back of the couch and tilt my head.

"Fuck off!" I say slowly when he meets my eyes. "It's none of your business!" He looks at me quizzically and then turn away as he sets the beer down. I know I'm pushing my luck, but stay where I am.

"I thought I told you, you little shit," he says and the last words roll off his tongue softly like they're an endearment, "I'm making you my business."

His hand on the back of my neck is like a vice, refusing to give when I try to pull away, but his lips as they close on mine are gentle. I reluctantly find myself melting into his firm hold.

TBC

A Pink Rose

A Pink Rose

by Dice

Inspired by The Message

He sank down on the tiled floor, placing the note beside him as he breathed in the scent of the rose, the short written message making him laugh softly to himself. That was so like his Master, a silly token of affection that held a promise of something far more ominous at the core. The pink rose was an indication of his Master's mood, it told him tonight would not be a walk in the park, but it would not be as severe as had it been red.

"You are my rose, I am your thorns. I'll see you tonight."

Unstable Lee

Unstable Lee

Sebastian Mitford dabbed some butter in the pan and listened to it sizzle awhile before he let the pale yellow mix run down on the hot iron with a hissing and spitting. He piled the golden brown pancakes on two plates and put them on the table. Then he went to the bedroom.

When asleep, Lee looked like a saint; his wavy walnut hair was wild and his cheeks had a blushed natural colour. The lips, slightly parted, were simply made to be kissed.

Sebastian would have given a lot to keep this moment forever, but then Lee stirred in his sleep and woke with a sigh. He looked up at Sebastian and a smile touched his sweet face.

"Good morning," he yawned, sitting up and then stretched out his arms behind his head.

"Mornin' sweetie," Sebastian mumbled.

"What's for breakfast?" Lee asked and got up.

Sebastian was immediately entranced by the slender beauty of his lover, the tan, the well built body, the slim waist and the catlike grace in his every movement.

"God, you're attractive!" he breathed.

"I asked 'what's for breakfast?' could you be kind enough answer me or would you rather continue drooling?" A poignant, very familiar tone made its appearance in Lee's voice.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian said apologetically and continued with a tone meant to soothe: "I made pancakes like you want."

"Don't give me that!" Lee snapped, without giving any hint as to what 'that' was exactly.

"Sorry," Sebastian repeated.

"You're doing it again!" Lee reproved with an accusing look on his face. Sebastian gave up and went out in the kitchen.

"Are you finished?" he asked gently the face in the bathroom mirror.

"Just about," Lee answered without taking his eyes off his hair. He washed gel off his hands and floated past Sebastian who was standing in the doorway.

"Ah, come here!" Sebastian said and reached out a hand to pull him close.

"No, don't do that!" Lee nearly screeched. "You'll mess up my hair!" he stroke the loose strands back again with an irritated sigh.

"I like it messed up," Sebastian mumbled.

"Well what you like is insignificant. You've got no taste," Lee said airily and moved on out to the kitchen. He sat down in his usual seat - he was almost overly particular about which seat was his - and then he picked up the news from the table and leafed through it to the comic strips, but his expression was the same.

"Sweetie," Sebastian coaxed, "c'mon baby... hey... sugar? Lighten up won't ya precious."

"Okay, okay, enough already! Cut it out before I throw up. You don't need to get all sickly syrupy on me!" Lee ranted. He picked up the fork and sprinkled sugar over the pancakes and then dug in. One bite and then he put it down again.

"It's cold," he muttered with disapproval.

"Well, if you'd..." Sebastian started, but caught the look in Lee's eyes, "never mind."

"What were you saying?" Lee looked deviously agreeable and Sebastian shrugged.

"Nothing, sweetie," he assured him.

"Nothing?" the biting tone told Sebastian it was too late to backtrack and he mumbled a quiet 'sorry' like so many times before. "I hate it when you start saying something and then just trail off."

"I was just..."

"Just what?! Criticising my vanity?" Lee snarled. "Just because I care about how I look and you think it's all right to wear the same shirt seven days a week."

"I don't," Sebastian muttered.

"Why do I bother talking to you in the morning? You're so short-tempered."

"I'm short-tem...?" Sebastian could've kicked himself.

"See?" Lee said scathing.

"Why do you always start like this?" Sebastian asked the tablecloth.

"Start what, you're the one who's picking a fight," Lee clarified.

Sebastian gave up and rose. He cleaned his plate scrupulously trying to force the stupid lump in his throat to go away. He hated to do this every morning, hated the pointless bickering and the bitter scorn from Lee. He felt so insecure when Lee looked at him with his soft, brown eyes so full of contempt. A tear burnt in his eye.

He started at the carpool summoning him. He put the plate on the rack and dried his hands. He sped out into the hall, drew a comb through his hair and looked at himself for awhile. Tall, robust some would say, fat Lee would say when he was in that mood. When wasn't he in that mood? He was fairly rugged anyway, and his face was by no means ugly, at least that was something Lee never mentioned. The receding hairline, though, that was different.

The carpool beckoned again and he picked up his bag and snatched his jacket down.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Lee asked from the kitchen door.

"What?" Sebastian mumbled bewildered.

"So I'm not important enough to be given a kiss in the morning?" Lee demanded irritably. "Well, forget about it then!"

"It'd be nice if you gave me a kiss for a change," Sebastian sighed.

"For a change? What's that supposed to mean? I can't possibly kiss you if you're on your way out the door, can I?" Lee's voice reached a too high a pitch and he glared at Sebastian.

"I guess not," Sebastian mumbled. "Sorry."

"Don't give me that. You're trying to drive me mad with that aren't you? All I wanted was a kiss and maybe an 'I love you', but NO, you're too busy. Well, go to work never mind about me! What do you care!"

Sebastian looked at the watch as the carpool's call became all the more annoyed. He couldn't deal with this tantrum in the morning, why did he have to go and get Lee worked up, he sighed.

"Please, sweetie, I have to go to work," he whispered.

"Well who's stopping you?" Lee turned around, stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door violently, causing an echo through the house. Sebastian drew a deep breath and rubbed his face in his hands and then he left for the carpool.

"Hurry up, Sebastian!" Rose called wearily.

"What are you doing?" Harry Benson glared at him over his glasses.

"Sorry, guys," he said and wondered just how many sorries he had uttered this morning and how many he would have to say this evening.

****

Conny looked out the window and cursed Sebastian for the umpteenth time in the recent quarter. Why did he say five and then never showed up until twenty past. Well, he wasn't getting away with it. He went back in the bedroom and changed his shirt.

He hated his clothes; all the shirts were perfectly ironed -'just like he wanted it' - the trousers ordered by shade -'just like he wanted it' - and the stupid shoes were always shined to flawlessness -'just like he wanted it'. He was beginning to loathe what he once thought was vital parts of his life. It was all because of Sebastian. Why did he have to be so damn compliant? It was annoying.

Where was he? He was suppose to be home at five so they could be at Carolyn and Sandra's at six. Another why came to mind at the thought of that; why did he have to go? He didn't like Sebastian's friends and they didn't like him. Except for Carolyn, but she loved everyone and everything.

Conny winced when the door opened.

"Where have you been!?!" he snapped at the affectionate face that appeared by the doorsill. Sebastian got that look that expressed the same as when a dog sticks his tail between his legs.

"Sorry I'm late."

There it was again, 'sorry' - as if that made everything better. Conny ignored him, tossed his shirt on the bed, and stood half naked in front of the closet. He wasn't satisfied with his looks; he was simply too slim and too lean - nothing fit him as well as he would like it to.

"I'm not going!" he declared.

"But we promised weeks ago, you can't back out..." Sebastian pleaded.

"I can and I AM!" Conny shouted and pulled down a bundle of shirts from the hangers and tossed them on the floor.

"But, baby, don't... please, Lee," Sebastian grabbed his arm.

Conny screamed out the jumbled mess of feelings inside and pushed him hard.

"Don't do that, I hate it!" he roared and yanked free. He flung himself on the bed and kicked hard at the air while beating his fists on the pillow.

"Oh, Lee, love. C'mon baby, don't do this to me, sweetie!" Sebastian begged and Conny felt a hand stroking the nape of his neck, for a moment it felt good, but then he shivered.

"Don't!" he said, but his voice was more of a sob.

"Don't cry, precious," Sebastian whispered softly.

Conny concentrated on making tears fall from his eyes; it didn't take long, it was something that came naturally to him. He whimpered for awhile, letting Sebastian know what a bastard he thought he was, for treating him the way he did.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Sebastian pleaded with despair.

"I'm not going!" Conny said surly and wiped his face on the blanket.

"But, darling, you can't... why don't you want to come?" Sebastian asked ruefully. Conny sat up and drew a deep breath; he had a look of indignation on his face.

"I hate your friends!" he stated. "No, actually they hate me! They don't want me around, they don't like me!"

"They do, it's just that..." Sebastian was obviously trying to find words that would cover up the fact that Conny was entirely right.

"They don't, they hate me."

"All right," Sebastian sighed. "I'll go alone."

That was not the turnout Conny wanted. Wrong answer, Sebastian! He straightened up and glared at his partner with red brimmed, dim eyes.

"Don't you go out that door!" he ordered, Sebastian hesitated and glanced over at him, his face indecisive and eyes reflecting pain.

"But, I can't stay home too, sweetie, it's not even civil to change one's mind without notice."

"So I'm not civil, am I?" Conny cried out. "If you leave I won't be here when you get back!"

"I..." Sebastian trailed off.

"You hate me! You want me to die! Admit it!" he screamed. "You hate me."

"I love you, all I want is for you to be happy," Sebastian replied in a low, unclear voice.

"Then stay home with me," Conny purred, he knew how to manipulate Sebastian; it was the easiest thing.

"All right, if that's what you really want," Sebastian sighed.

****

Sebastian couldn't bring himself to ring Carolyn, he was still too unsure of his own voice and he just didn't know what to say. He sank down in the sofa and turned the TV on.

"I've changed my mind, let's go," Lee stood in the doorway, dressed and ready to go. Sebastian thought briefly about going insane, but then let out a sigh and got up.

Carolyn and Sandra lived on the other side of town and taking the bus did not exactly ease Sebastian's mind any. Despite a conscious effort on his part, he couldn't stop thinking about Lee's constant moodiness and the manipulation he was conducting. Oh, Sebastian knew very well he was being manipulated, but he couldn't do anything about it without losing Lee, and he refused to let the man go. They got off the shaky bus at their stop and walked the rest of the way to the girls' house.

"Who else will be there?" Lee asked without looking up from the pavement.

"I think Ronan said he'd be there and Ollie, I don't know if he'll bring anyone, but Ronan's sure to bring that boyfriend of his," Sebastian said.

"Sean?"

"I think so," Sebastian glanced at Lee, who walked with arms folded and head bent as if he didn't want to be noticed.

"Hope so, he was rather decent," Lee continued staring at the ground.

"I though he was a little rude."

"He knew to speak his mind that's all," Lee said. "I like that, he stood up to that bastard he's sleeping with."

"I wish you wouldn't call my friend that," Sebastian said and knew as he said it that he should've kept his mouth shut.

"That's nice, take your DEAR friend's side over mine, why don't you?" Lee said with a cutting voice.

Sebastian sighed with relief - at least Lee had calmed to the point where he used sarcasm instead of screaming to put him down.

"I'm sorry."

"You're doing it again!"

Sebastian let out a sigh and dropped back a few paces behind his lover, while Lee walked on, slouching his shoulders and looking positively chafing. Sebastian was disturbed by the fact that Lee really abhorred spending time with his friends and he was very uncomfortable with the fact that Lee didn't like Ronan, who was one of his oldest and best friends.

Ronan was a caring and even-tempered person, who was only ever really upset when someone hurt one of his loved ones. The only disagreement he and Sebastian had ever had was that Ronan didn't like Sebastian's relationship with Lee, hadn't from the start; he called it destructive and Lee an abusive parasite. So to oppose Lee when he claimed that Ronan didn't like him was in a fact lying and Sebastian could never produce any reliable argument that verified his lies.

When they arrived, Sandra shouted from the kitchen window that they go around to the back. Lee rolled his eyes skywards and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"You'd think civil people could at least open the door for you," he muttered.

"Can't you try, sweetie, please?" Sebastian pleaded.

"Fine, darling, I'll smile and be polite..." Lee declared utterly pleasant and then produced a tilted smile, "...and flirt with Ollie's new friend."

Sebastian looked up and found that Ollie was standing below a tree in the yard stroking the long, black hair out of the eyes of a very attractive young man. Ollie sure knew how to find them, but his awful jealousy often drove them away.

"Don't you dare! " Sebastian implored him, even though he knew very well that he wouldn't be able to stop him.

"Don't tempt me, sugar!" Lee said and winked at him.

"Sebastian!" Sebastian was swept into the warm embrace of his friend. "I thought you had been kept home."

"Sorry we're late!" Sebastian smiled.

"I'll just go tell Carolyn you're here then we have to catch up some." Ronan disappeared into the house.

"How smooth," Lee murmured.

"What?"

"The 'kept home' part," Lee gave him a frown, "...ah, you'd miss a hint if it was spelled out to you with neon lights!" Sebastian let out a deep breath as Lee drifted down to pick up a glass of wine.

"Finally, sorry I didn't get the door," Sandra came out with a plate of snacks, followed by her girlfriend and Ronan. Carolyn gave Sebastian a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Hi, Lee," Sandra said and patted him on the shoulder.

"Hi!" he answered with a quick nod and waved at Carolyn, who waved back and blew him a kiss. For an instant Lee's face lit up in a smile.

"Ollie!" Sandra called, "Sebastian and Lee's here, introduce them to Darren, won't you," Ollie turned and nodded, and then Sandra and Carolyn returned into the house to continue the preparations. Ollie hooked an arm around Darren's shoulders and they came up to the others.

"Good to see you!" Ollie said to Sebastian and hugged him closely, slighting Lee with his usual carelessness. "Sebastian, this is Darren Stagg. Darren, Sebastian." The boy, for he seemed to be younger than Lee and Lee was just twenty-two, smiled brightly and shook Sebastian's hand and then he indicated that Ollie had missed Lee by looking quickly at him and then at Ollie. "Ah, that's Lee, Sebastian's boyfriend," Ollie said halfheartedly.

"Hi," Darren said carefully and Lee turned on the charm like turning a tap.

"How nice to meet you," he took Darren's hand, but pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. Then he backed off, eyed Darren with an engaging smile.

"He was single, I was single, one thing led to another... But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that."

Sebastian turned and went over to have drink, he knew Ollie used that to put Lee down, but he didn't think of that the one taking most of the blow was Sebastian. Besides, it hadn't been anyone's fault, for that matter, he had met him at a party and how could he have known that Lee was...

"You know it's nothing to do with you," Ronan's voice penetrated his thoughts.

"Maybe," Sebastian sipped his glass of white wine. "But I... Oh, never mind. Where's Sean, by the way?"

"Oh, you know him, he wouldn't be on time for his own funeral," Ronan smiled fondly.

"So things are going well for you?"

"Yes, he's such a darling, when he wants to be. Caught up in work, though - never resting, always in the middle of something," Ronan laughed. "But I'll make him calm down yet. He'll realise it isn't healthy, for him or his bum." The last was said with Ronan's quiet humour and the twinkle in his eye that Sebastian had once learnt to both love and fear.

"It's been awhile since I've seen you this happy. I guess you needed him," Sebastian said and smiled.

"I did, do... but you certainly don't need what you've got." Sebastian looked down in his glass.

"I'm all right," he said.

"You're not fooling me, Sebastian Mitford, I never see you laugh anymore and you used to, a lot. Now, now you watch your step and hold your breath every move you make, jumping on his every command."

"It's not like that," Sebastian looked at a petunia in a flowerpot.

"Yes it is, and Sebastian stop avoiding my eyes," Ronan growled. "Why don't you stand up for yourself? I've seen you oppose enraged thugs, but to him you don't even raise your voice."

"He's sensitive."

"Sensitive? He's a selfish brat! Why do you put up with him?"

"Because I love him!" Sebastian muttered and kept looking at the petunia.

"Love? You call that love?" Ronan hissed. "You're just frightened he'll leave you."

"Don't, please, I don't want to have this discussion now."

"When do you want to have it? When he's broken your heart as well as your spirit? When he's left you for someone else? He will and you know it. He's a calamity waiting to happen."

"Just stop!"

"Stop what?" Sean put his chin on Ronan's shoulder and his arms around his waist from behind.

"Oh, nothing. Where have you been?" Ronan turned and kissed him.

"I had some work to catch..." Sean smiled as Ronan's face became stern. "Right, that excuse doesn't work with you. So spank me."

"I plan to," Ronan answered, half mocking, half serious.

A few weeks ago Sean wouldn't have brought it up and if Ronan had he would've blushed and turned away, maybe even let his lover know that he didn't want their private business to be exposed to the world. But now he was calm and didn't even seem to fear the reality of Ronan's threat. But then, Sebastian thought, there might not be that much reality in it and then he thought again, this was Ronan after all.

"I'll go say hi to Ollie and stop the imminent storm," Sean said and gave Ronan one last kiss.

"I can go..." Sebastian started.

"Let him go!" Ronan said softly and Sebastian found himself alone under his friend's scrutinising eyes once again.

****

They gathered around the table to eat when Sandra and Carolyn came out of the house. Since they were so many and the table rather small Conny found himself wedged in between Darren on one side and Sean on the other. Sebastian was seated next to Ronan; he looked subdued, quiet and just smiling now and then at Ollie's silly jokes.

The girls had made a wonderful Greek salad, which everyone enjoyed, though Conny noticed that Sebastian almost unconsciously pushed the black olives over to Ronan's plate. The gesture revealed intimacy of a kind Conny didn't really like. He looked at Sebastian until the same looked up and met his eyes, but there was not even a hint of comprehension in his brown eyes, just confusion.

Conny gritted his teeth and lifted his glass to his lips, Sandra was good at picking wines that was for sure, Carolyn didn't drink, so none of the credit could be given to her, but the food was surely her accomplishment. He turned slightly and found Darren's eyes on him and the beginning of a smile playing across his face. There was a certain gentleness to the young man that Conny found appealing. Darren was pretty and not quite as thin as he was himself, but not heavy, just a bit more muscles. They had started talking earlier about shared interests and others that they didn't share, like football, Darren's passion, but something Conny had never cared for. It was easy to pick up where they had left off and Darren seemed as eager to talk as Conny was.

Ollie pushed his new-found boyfriend with an elbow; Darren turned around to kiss him once on the mouth and that was presumably the end of that conversation. Conny caught himself wishing that Ollie would go up in smoke, but he didn't; he remained sitting close to Darren, now with an arm around his shoulders guarding him like a hawk. To Conny that was an invitation to open war.

"So, what do you do now, anyway, Lee?" Conny was surprised at Sean's sudden question.

"Oh, this and that. I've applied to a computer course, but until then. Well, you know how it is."

"Still unemployed?" Ronan asked and Conny thought he could detect the slightest innuendo in his voice, but he looked all amiable like always.

"Well, nothing's come up," Conny said with indifference.

"Not that you've been trying very hard," Sebastian dropped his eyes the minute Conny looked up, but the sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue was cut off before he had time to utter it.

"You're really lucky to have Sebastian to support you," Ronan said, without the usual trace of banter in his voice. Conny refused to take part in this conversation any further and directed his efforts on the wine glass in front of him.

****

"Sean, you've had enough!" Ronan stated notably demanding when it was about eleven o'clock.

"What!?" there was clear objection in Sean's voice. "I haven't had that much!"

"I'm not blind, Sean!" Ronan growled.

"'I'm not blind, Sean'," Sean echoed tauntingly, " nagginsonofabitch," he muttered, when Ronan didn't quit looking sternly at him, but he put his glass down.

Ronan seemed about to say something, but Carolyn rapped him firmly on the wrist and shook her head, Ronan smiled sheepishly. Ollie tried to hide a chuckle in his wineglass and Sandra wasn't able either to keep herself from joining him with her clear twitter, even Darren smiled though he looked somewhat flustered.

Sebastian looked at his hands and wondered if he could risk getting really drunk - he could sure use it. Sandra tapped him on the arm and he looked up puzzled.

"Carolyn wonders if you're bored," she said.

"Oh," he turned his gaze towards Carolyn and shook his head, "No, just tired," he said aloud and she looked content.

Lee was silent as a monk, had been for awhile, which might mean that he had had fairly a lot to drink. As the others helped clear the table, Sebastian risked going over and put his arms about his lover, and his suspicion was confirmed without a doubt, when the young man leaned back and let his hands slide up his arms.

Sebastian sat down beside him and Lee gave him that soft smile that Sebastian had fallen so in love with when they first met. Lee moved over and onto his lap, embracing him fondly and caressing his neck. His hands were soon tangled up in Sebastian's hair and he kissed him devotedly on the lips. Sebastian breathed in the subtle smell of his aftershave and the wine he had had.

"I lof you ," Lee whispered, sounding sad and a little slurry. "You know dat , don't you? You know how wondrful you are?" Lee kissed him again and Sebastian responded with desire. This was familiar behaviour in Lee, as soon as he had had a few glasses too many, he became cuddly and clingy, sweet as sugar and in need of affection that he usually refused.

"I love you too," Sebastian mumbled.

"Can't we go home? I wanna go home and be wiz you," Lee leaned his forehead against Sebastian's and looked him in the eyes.

"Sure, sweetie, soon," Sebastian promised and Lee kissed him again smiling. He got up from Sebastian's knees, but he couldn't find his feet, stumbled and fell back in Sebastian's arms with a giggle.

"Oh, I'm nozo steady... dalin , lez go home, uh? Lez go," he mumbled.

Sebastian got up with Lee clinging to him like a baby chimp to its mother. Sebastian felt his own legs weren't too steady either and he leaned against the table holding Lee with one arm. He looked around and saw Ronan talking to Ollie who was just leaving with Darren.

"Ronan," he called and beckoned him over. Ronan patted Ollie on the shoulder and said something and then he came over. "Do you have your car?"

"Of course, why?"

"Could you drive us home?" Sebastian nodded at the snuggling young man who held on to him.

"Sure, I'll just get my own bag," he laughed and went to fetch Sean who'd fallen asleep in the sofa.

Sebastian said goodbye and thanked Carolyn and Sandra for the great evening. Carolyn smiled and kissed him on the cheek across Lee, who was hanging limp in his grip.

"Let's go then!" Ronan came out dragging a sleepy Sean with him. "Sorry about this," he said to Sandra and Carolyn, but Sandra just shook her head with a smile. She often did just that, expressed what she felt with facial expressions instead of words, sometimes she was hard to understand, but it was hard to break a habit attained after years of living with someone who can't hear.

****

Lee was sleeping on his shoulder all the way back home. Ronan's car was small, but nice, with soft seats and Sebastian felt as if he would soon fall asleep himself.

"It's nonnegotiable, Sean," Ronan's voice broke through his drowsy mood and he sat up.

"But I hate that!"

"You've got only yourself to blame. Sean, you promised to be on time, you promised not to get drunk, that's two right there. I won't discuss it in the car!"

Silence followed, but Sebastian recognised Sean's slumping shoulders as a clear token of resignation.

Sebastian carried Lee up to the house, his lover hugging him tightly and kissing him with new ardour now that he was awake again. Sebastian kicked the door shut and locked it with Lee still in his arms. He put him down on the bed and started undressing him, shoes, socks, pants, shirt and Lee got up and started caressing him gently over the chest and arms, his hands went to the buttons of his shirt and practically ripped it open.

"Lee," Sebastian breathed, but Lee didn't even look up. His hands explored the buckle of his belt, got his trousers open and sought their way down below the waistband. Sebastian let out a moan with pleasure when Lee's hands gently began stroking his stirring dick. "Lee," he breathed again sterner, but unwilling to make him stop. "Lee, don't." He got his wrists in a firm grip and pulled his lovers hands up.

"No, Sebastian, I need you!" Lee's soft eyes were enticing, begging and alluring, Sebastian felt how he let go, not only of Lee's hands, but also of his own will.

They tumbled down on the bed, Lee's touch sent ripples of pleasure through him. He knew better than to let things go this far when Lee wasn't sober, but it had been so long, having him this close and so hot and sensual - it was far more than Sebastian could bare .

Lee's tongue found his nipple, teasing it, Sebastian's hands traveled up over his backside to his shoulder blades, they were both panting. Lee knew his body better than any lover had ever done and he was merciless in his caresses; fingertips trailed his belly and nails dug into his thigh slowly reaching down to stroke his hip and then further down... Sebastian almost forgot to return his favours.

Then Lee's lips were on his, yearning and almost desperate, they kissed longingly as if they weren't really allowed to and Sebastian found his hands again and started to gently caress his lover's back, running his hands down the waist which drove a moan out of Lee. It was heaven and hell combined to feel such pleasure.

They moved together without ever going just so far, until Lee let out a gasp and rolled off him, but yet not letting go, just moving so he was on his back arching slightly, eyes flaming with desire.

"You sure," Sebastian whispered - giving over that role was rare in Lee, he liked being the one in control, but now he merely nodded. Sebastian reached over to the drawer where the essentials were kept.

He knelt between his legs and slipped two fingers deep inside, feeling heat and soft tightness enveloping them; Lee's breath hitched and he pushed back without words letting him know he craved more than that. Sebastian lifted the narrow hips onto his thighs and they fell into a rhythm of slow love making - Lee wouldn't have it that way, he wanted it faster and Sebastian had to give in when he was pulled down on top of his beautiful lover and had his ear savagely bitten.

Lee moaned and cried out - he would never give a sound usually - and Sebastian felt his breath pressed out in heaves while he steadily neared climax. The room seemed to actually dim when he came and he was too exhausted to even notice as Lee came beneath him.

There were no thoughts, no worries as he fell asleep with Lee in his arms.

****************************************************************************

Sebastian dabbed some butter in the pan and waited awhile as it hissed before he poured the mix on the hot iron. He piled the golden brown pancakes on two plates, which he placed on the table. Then he went to the bedroom.

"Lee," he whispered and gently touched his lover's shoulder through the blanket. The walnut head of hair moved slightly and disappeared deeper in under the blanket.

"Go to hell, Sebastian, leave me alone!" the answer was muffled by the pillow. Sebastian closed his eyes and let out a sigh. When sunlight comes all spells are broken and a spell that gives a hangover is, of course, not that appreciated by the ones who were under it the night before.

"You shouldn't drink so much," he mumbled.

"Shut up!" Lee snarled and slowly raised his head. His eyes were red and he was pale as a sheet. "Did we fuck?" he groaned when he saw the empty plastic wrapper on the nightstand.

"Yes," Sebastian whispered and picked it up, crumpling it up in his hand.

"Great! Was I good?" Lee muttered, glowering reproachfully at him, and then he moaned loudly. "Would you please not be here! "

Sebastian got up and left the room, feeling helpless and not so little rejected. Lee could make him feel so despicable with just one look and he knew it was coming, so why did he feel so hurt?

"You didn't have any complaints last night," he mumbled to the empty kitchen and sat down at the table.

He knew why Lee reacted like that, however; there were old issues that had always come between them, things that Lee wouldn't talk about now, things he had told of at one time or another, but always seemed to regret ever having mentioned.

They didn't talk anymore - the usual pitfall - Sebastian knew the signs and might have been able to prevent it from happening, if they could have had a conversation without it ending in a fight. But Lee seemed set on blowing everything out of proportion and finding disapproval in everything Sebastian said.

Sebastian ate alone, he went up and washed his plate then glared at the pancakes on the other plate. Well, Lee wouldn't eat them so why should they stand there? He threw them away, but regretted

"Oooh, Sebastian, turn that shit off, it's killing me!" Lee cried from the bedroom, followed by a dreadful moan.

"Yes, sweetie," Sebastian mumbled sardonically to himself and thought temporarily of raising the volume, but such cruelty wasn't in his nature.

The phone rang and he got up, walking out in the hall where the phone was. He was too slow to reach it before the second signal, but he was right by it.

"SEBASTIAN!!" Lee shouted.

"Yeah, yeah... Sebastian!" his tone was still rather short when he picked up the phone.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Ronan laughed at the other end.

"Oh... sorry, I was just... never mind. What can I do for you?"

"I thought I'd ask you to come over, if you're free. Sean's not at his best today and I want someone to talk with, but perhaps you've got your hands full?" Ronan said amiably.

"Actually..." Sebastian was about to say no, but then he changed his mind. "I'll be right over, things are kind of dull here too!" he said before he had time to reconsider again.

He hung up and stared at himself in the mirror across the hall, was he out of his mind? Well, why not? Why did he have to suffer just because Lee did? That wasn't fair. But to go in and tell Lee he was going out was not an appealing thought, it would just start another quarrel and there was not a chance he had the strength to put up with one of Lee's tantrums again today. He felt like the world's biggest coward when he had finished writing the note and placed it well in view on the table.

He steered his steps towards the front door, closing it slowly and then scurrying to catch the bus as it reached the stop at the corner. He was lucky, for once, there was even a free seat. He was nervous, like a child playing truant or something, and the same sensation of stolen freedom came over him.

He looked out the window, passed the old lady sitting on the inner seat, her bag on her lap. He knew he shouldn't feel this gnawing guilt as he had no reason for it; Lee was an adult and he had no obligation to take care of him. Not really.

Sebastian drifted off in thoughts.

***

There had been a party, a birthday party for some friend of Ian's. September, cold and foggy outside, cold and foggy inside, only that cold was the look in Ian's eyes and the fog was from his cigarette. Sebastian had been there, in the midst of a crowd, but he had felt so lonely. They had had a fight again, now he couldn't remember what it had been about, but it had been one of many. Ian had suggested they'd break up. Sebastian hadn't refused. Still, there they were, together, but alone.

Music had started to play, some started to dance, then more, and suddenly a ray of light sought its way into Sebastian's gloomy corner. A boy, nineteen then and so young in appearance, had given him a smile across the room. He had found himself dancing, caught in the surprisingly strong grip of this young man. 'You can call me Lee, if you like', had been his only soft words after Sebastian's introduction.

He had been shy, but teasing and flirty, and soon he had had Sebastian in a better mood than he had been in for weeks. The song had ended and Lee had let him go, quietly looking over his shoulder. Sebastian's glance had followed his and seen another man, a man that clearly wasn't pleased.

Lee had shifted uneasily, giving him a last glance, squeezing his hand one quick time and then he had turned and left, leaving Sebastian bewildered and once again alone.

Back at the chair in his corner, Ian had looked him up, giving him a dry look and a glass of wine.

"Moving on so soon?" he'd asked quite gently.

"I'm sorry."

"Why? It doesn't bother me," Ian had looked out in the room.

"Then why bring it up, if you don't care?" Sebastian had felt his throat growing tight.

"I don't care, it surprised me to see how little I actually do care... it's frightening, after four years..." he had sighed and looked Sebastian in the eyes. "I'm so sorry, I never wanted it to end."

"Either did I ." Relief, plain relief, no more trying, no more pretending; it was over, like a fire struggling against the rain and finally dying. There was no pain. Sebastian had long wondered about that, the fact that his only fear then had been that Ian would tell him he wanted to try again, that the struggle would have to go on.

He wondered if that was what he felt now. The rain was pouring and the fire between him and Lee was certainly fading, but then again, Sebastian wasn't sure he wanted it to die, he needed it to flare anew, with a fresh spark, but there was no spark.

He woke from his musing and realised that he had passed the stop where he was supposed to get off, and had to walk all the way back.

"What's up with you today?" Ronan said with that 'I know what's going on, but I'll let you tell me anyway' kind of voice, when they were seated comfortably in the sofa in Ronan's large living room. Sebastian was very aware that there was no way he could hide anything from Ronan; he simply knew him too intimately.

"Headache," he said as a way of stalling while he sorted his mind out.

"I sense a substantial 'and' coming along," Ronan said and put a tender hand around the back of his neck. "You're not trying to hide anything from me, are you? Something you don't want to talk about?"

"You know I am," Sebastian smiled, but than looked down and bit his lip. "You're going to start that nagging again and I don't want to..."

"Oh, stop sounding like Sean," Ronan said and got up. "Since when have I've been nagging you about anything? I stopped that when you moved out with, what's his name, Ian, and anyway I'm just trying to help you."

"Can I have a beer?" he asked and Ronan shook his head with a smile as he went to fetch it.

Too familiar ground and he wanted off it as soon as possible. He didn't want to fight, he needed to think and calm down. Previously Ronan's place had been a place where he could cuddle up in the sofa and pour his heart out and Ronan would nod and go "You always fall for those types," or "Don't worry, you'll get over him, have some ice-cream."

It didn't work anymore. He couldn't barge in at anytime of day or night, fling his arms about Ronan's neck and bawl like a madman, not with Sean around. Besides, Ronan's common sense wasn't what he wanted; he didn't care to hear the reasonable speeches about manipulation, provocation, demoralisation, alienation or any other -ation that Ronan could think of. To be frank, he didn't want the truth shoved in his face every time he met him.

"Here you go, now let's hear it!" it was an order, very clear in that typical way of Ronan's to say 'you don't have a choice in the matter, so why bother?'

"Or what?" Sebastian tried to laugh. "You'll spank me?"

"Now, that's an idea," Ronan grinned, but suddenly Sebastian was fed up with the banter and just sighed plaintively and let his head drop down in his hands.

"I'm just so tired," he whispered.

"I know, I know you are," Ronan sat down beside him and pulled him into his arms. "Hey now, listen to me."

"No!" Sebastian pushed him away rather roughly.

"No, Sebastian, listen to me! It's not good for you, don't you realise you can't take this anymore? You need to see what is happening to you!"

"No! NO!! You don't understand a bloody thing! I don't want it to end, I want it... I want it... to change. I want back what we had!"

Ronan was looking quietly at him with a face that spelled out aggravation and concern in a strange mix that was also so much Ronan. Sebastian had once thought about that as being Ronan's only expression unless he smiled, now he knew otherwise but he hadn't when they met.

"You're right," he said eventually very thoughtfully, "I don't understand. I don't understand why you're willing to put up with all that, and from someone who you claim to love."

"What do you mean claim to love? Do you love Sean?" Sebastian asked trying to keep his voice steady.

"Yes, with all my heart, why, what's your point?" Ronan asked calmly.

"Haven't you ever, for just a moment, feared that he would hate you for hitting him?"

"God, Sebastian! We went through that so many times when you stayed with me... Oh, God, I thought you'd learnt the difference. A spanking, for a wrong that has been admitted, by both parties, and in a healthy conscientious relationship is not 'hitting' as you put it."

"All right, I know, I know, but he doesn't see it like that. He's got bad experiences," Sebastian muttered.

"So you let him walk all over you instead? Do you think that that's better? Better than explaining when you don't like his behaviour?" Ronan demanded very gravely, looking at him so hard Sebastian found his head dropping and himself watching the carpet very intently. "I've never said you need to spank him. That isn't always the way a relationship has to work. For God's sake there are a million relationships that doesn't work like that. But, no relationship works well, and I stress that, works well, if one party continues to manipulate and hurt the other, without that person putting a stop to it."

Sebastian was fed up with Ronan's way with words, but he did listen, if only out of habit. He still stared at the carpet, but he nodded silently.

"You've changed, Sebastian. I don't know if it started with Ian, perhaps it did. He swept you off your feet after only lousy relationships and I can't blame you. Still, he was the hard to please kind, not like Lee, but hard nevertheless."

"Ian taught me patience, Lee... Lee just..." Sebastian trailed off, rubbing his left thumb as if it was dirty. "Lee loves me, I'm sure he does, but he can't show it." He looked up defiantly at Ronan, who winced and then slowly an expression of mild satisfaction spread across his face.

"I don't believe you could love anyone who doesn't love you, that's why you and Ian broke up. But Lee might not be willing to let you love him in the way he needs to be loved," he said gently almost tenderly.

Sebastian pondered that for awhile, ultimately coming to a decision; a decision he hoped would change things. He was sure it would in one way or another, for better or for worse.

****

"Sebastian?" there was no answer so he called again louder, "Sebastian, come here!" it was too quiet, much too quiet. Conny got up and stumbled, head pounding out into the living room - empty, on into the kitchen - also empty. "SEBASTIAN!!" he yelled, but he knew there would be no reply.

He caught a glimpse of the note on the table and went over to pick it up, fury rushing to his head. He couldn't have...

"Went over to see Ronan, but I didn't want to wake you.

There are some leftovers in the fridge you can eat.

Love Sebastian

PS phone when you're up"

The asshole, damn him. Who did he think he was anyway, leaving without so much as a word? Conny went straight to the phone intent on giving his lover a piece of his mind, but then he stopped. No, he'd show him, he'd let him know he was in disgrace.

Since he was feeling too poorly to eat anything he decided to have a shower and perhaps his head would clear a tad. At least enough for him to think straight about what he should do to get back at Sebastian.

The water streamed down his face, warm and healing, restoring some of his old self. He stood for almost half an hour, just because Sebastian hated when he wasted water like that, and then he dried off and borrowed Sebastian's big comfortable robe and dropped it on the floor in the bedroom, simply because Sebastian didn't want him to disarray his things.

Revenge, ever so petty and insignificant, was always sweet and making a mess of the kitchen while looking for something edible among the shelves was one of his favourites. He didn't find anything that suited his taste, however, and as his headache was now bearable he resolved to go shopping for some snacks, something Sebastian always seemed to forget, probably on purpose, but possibly because he never ate any himself.

Mrs. Gallagher owned the small shop where Sebastian and he usually went to buy food, next to which you could rent videos to a very reasonable cost and even more so today it seemed, twenty five percent off if you rented a film that was over five years old. Conny stored that information as he entered Mrs. Gallagher's little shop.

The elderly woman with the thick glasses looked up from behind her counter and her face brightened when she saw him. There were two other customers in the shop, but Conny knew neither off them.

"My, my, if it isn't dear young Lee, what are you having today then, young man?" Mrs. Gallagher said cheerfully.

"Just something that isn't good for me," he said, he always found it amazing how the little woman could put a name to every face that walked through the door more than once.

"How's Sebastian, nowadays? It was a little while ago he was down here." she said as he was paying.

"Oh, fine, he's just fine."

Despite the fact that her light-hearted demeanour had made him forget his bad mood, her mentioning Sebastian got him down again. He was supposed to be angry and wouldn't give up that easily. It wasn't fair. He wondered what he was doing right now. Conny just didn't like Ronan, he didn't like the fact that Sebastian liked Ronan, and the fact that Ronan didn't like him created a kind of insecurity in him that he was unwilling to admit to. Sebastian relied on Ronan so much and he would never go to Conny with his problems the way he went to him and that was annoying, and unsettling.

He refused to think about it anymore and choose rather to get a video and squander the afternoon away like the layabout he was. He couldn't get a job -'Not that you've been trying very hard' - it hurt, but it was true, maybe that was why it hurt, and coming from Sebastian...'You're really lucky to have Sebastian to support you' - sure he was but did he have to say it? It was none of his business, so why did he have to carry on with that tone that always made him feel so small?

He walked slowly among the shelves hardly looking at the video tapes, just walking and thinking. Suddenly an old film caught his eye -'

"Hey! I think I saw that first!" the other guy refused to let go.

"Think again, I grabbed it first!" Conny looked up into a face that was strangely familiar and then the other guy lit up with recollection. "Wow, I didn't recognise you, I mean I hardly expected to see you..." he stared at Darren Stagg for a moment, still baffled.

"What are the odds of us running into each other?" Darren smiled agreeably. "My brother lives about here, I'm watching his apartment for a few days."

"Oh, really, I, eh, we live right down the road."

"Do you? What a small world," Darren laughed. "Still, this is mine, you know."

"Oh, I don't think so," Conny grinned. "But, if you're alone, I mean, we could watch it together... if that's an option?"

"Well, why not..." Darren said and sucked his lips inwards in funny way.

"Sure," Conny couldn't stop smiling and he started to feel silly.

"Great. Is... he home?" Darren said taking the tape from Conny, who shook his head and mouthed a silent no. Darren raised an eyebrow and tilted smile barely touched his face. "Okay!"

Conny kneeled by the VCR and got the film out of the box, then he pushed it in and got up switching on the TV. Darren was looking at a picture of him and Sebastian in Edinburgh last year; it was a very good picture, so good even Conny had thought it worth framing.

"He's handsome, you know," he said. "Not as attractive as the guy he's with, but..." he winked teasingly.

"That's a laugh," Conny said and took a seat in the corner of the sofa. "Now sit down, the film is starting!"

Darren flopped down beside him, just a little too close and adjusted his feet up on the table. Conny leaned back away from him, he wasn't about to give him an open invitation, if Darren wanted to flirt, fine, but that would be it. He was all for flirting with anyone at anytime, it kept things interesting, but only if there was a jealous partner around.

About half an hour into the film Darren stirred and patted him on the thigh.

"You wouldn't have something drinkable to offer?" he said.

"Sure, I'll fetch something," Conny got up as Darren paused the tape, and he made his way into the kitchen, there was some beer in the fridge, but also something even better. "I'll fix you a gin and tonic, if you like," he called back towards the living room.

"Great!"

Darren knocked the whole glass back the minute he got it in his hand and then he gave Conny a winsome smile, saying, "Ah, that was great, you wouldn't mind if I had another, would you?" he said and tilted his head just a little.

"Suit yourself ," Conny said and sat down in the sofa as Darren got up. He brought the bottle with him when he returned to the living room and filled up Conny's glass despite his objections.

"Live a little!" he advised grinning.

They sat close again in the sofa. Darren's thigh rubbing against his every time he moved, his arm brushing against Conny's shirt when he reached for the bottle. There was now a strong smell of gin on his breath. The warmth of his body as he leaned discreetly nearer to Conny every time he poured him a new drink, was getting to him. Conny knew he could stop it, knew he could get up and go to the bathroom, or anything, but he didn't move. He was sweating and his body began reacting to the contact with Darren's, sending pulses of lust through him, notwithstanding his head or reason. His judgment might be clouded with drink, but not more so than that he could put up with and still be himself.

He did it on purpose, naturally. The glass didn't slip, he let it go at just the right angle. Conny pushed him aside with a curse.

"Oh, fuck!" he expressed with feeling. "Look at this shit. Stop laughing, it's not funny!" he glared at Darren, who sat relaxed in the sofa. He unbuttoned a few buttons and drew the shirt over his head. Darren eyed him appreciatively and abruptly extended an arm and hooked a finger around one of the belt loops in Conny's jeans. He was far stronger than Conny, not as strong as Sebastian sometimes seemed, but he could easily pull Conny down on top of him. "Hey!! Don't!"

"Don't worry," Darren whispered as he unzipped his fly, "You know you want this!"

Conny didn't answer, he pushed him to get up, but couldn't bring himself to putting any real effort into it. He felt angry, angry with himself for not stopping it sooner, angry with Darren for making him feel like this, and angry with Sebastian for not coming home. Why didn't he come home right now? Darren buried his head in his lap taking his dick in his mouth. Conny moaned and Darren looked up at him and then came to kiss him once on the lips.

"It's easy, Lee, just go with the flow!"

No! No, he couldn't, he couldn't do this. Not to Sebastian!

****

It was clouding over as Sebastian got off the bus heading home and he started running about a hundred yards from their house, but to no avail, he was soaked when he arrived on the doorstep. He hurried to close the door and inside he shook the water out of his hair and laughed at himself.

There was a sudden noise and he realised the TV was on. So the little bastard was up then, and hadn't called despite of the note, well that meant he was probably getting the silent treatment tonight. Well, he used to be able to handle that by putting up a happy face and teasing him until he was flaming .

"Lee, sweetie, are you..." he looked at the two youngsters, entangled on the sofa. His first thought was 'we'll have to get a new sofa now', and then the shock hit him like a club. "Jesus Christ!" he breathed.

"Oh shit! Fuck! Dammit!" the boy, Darren, Sebastian recalled his name was, got up and stumbled, jumped and cursed into his jeans while Lee sat up with an expression of resignation on his face. "Shit, oh God, oh dammit!" Darren gaped panicky at him. "It's not what it seems!"

Lee tossed his head back and laughed aloud and profoundly sarcastic at that statement. He shook his head, gazing mockingly at the shaken Darren and at the same time reaching for a glass of something on the table. He took a mouthful and smirked disdainfully as he swallowed.

"Do you actually think that that will make any difference whatsoever?" he said and got up, kicking away a shoe that wasn't his and picking up his own jeans and placing them neatly in the armchair. He wore nothing but his underpants, but he remedied that by pulling his shirt over his head; it had a wet stain, Sebastian noted. "But don't worry about Sebastian, he's as harmless as a kitten," he said smoothly.

Sebastian focused on breathing. He felt as if a knife was being twisted around his gut and he was almost physically sick. The inexplicable fear he felt was probably as strong as Darren's was and he could taste it in his mouth. He swallowed and fell back against the wall.

"I'd worry more about what Ollie's gonna say, wouldn't you?" Lee's voice suddenly resounded of innocence.

"What? Are you out of your mind? No, Lee! No, he mustn't find out! He can't find out! He'd kill me! He'd fucking kill me, Lee!!" Darren's voice was a shrill shriek and the look on his face was pure horror.

"You should've though of that before," Sebastian mumbled and was astonished at how calm his voice was, and even more at that he'd at all spoken a word.

"Oh, please!" Darren now turned his pleading to him. "Please, you know he'd kill me, he'll wring my neck."

"Sebastian won't say a word. As matter of fact, he'll go on pretending that it never happened," Lee sounded resentful and if Sebastian had been attuned to it at that moment, he might've detected the slight tremble to his speech. "You see, he's whipped," Lee continued with a cutting tone. "He's so whipped he wouldn't ever say a hard word to me!"

The harsh reality in those words struck Sebastian far worse than anything Ronan had ever claimed could've done; it was easy to pretend that Ronan didn't really know what he was talking about, but it was undeniable coming from Lee. Sebastian took a deep breath and swallowed hard, feeling as if though he was trying to swallow sulphuric acid.

Lee was on the doorstep, letting Darren out into the rain and he went gladly, putting one shoe on as he hopped across the yard and out on the road, never looking back. Lee turned, and there was possibly a trace of tears in his eyes, but it could also be that the rain was misleading. The young man went up to him, stopping less than two feet from him. Sebastian looked at him through a daze, a strange combination of fury and bitterness beginning to burn its way into his consciousness. His look became a hostile glare, which Lee met stubbornly.

"What?!" he asked insultingly. "Did you have something to say?" and added with as much venom as his otherwise so soft voice could bestow, "sweetie!"

"Not one more word!" Sebastian hissed, straightening his back until he towered over his beloved antagonist with the unmistakable threat hanging between them like a red flag.

"Or what?" Lee spat.

"I thought I loved you enough..." Sebastian mumbled. Lee's face changed, if just barely noticeably, his eyes lost their spite and he pursed his lips slightly instead of the tilted sneer.

"Don't push it, I might leave..." he said.

"Will you? I doubt it!" Sebastian growled. "But I don't really care. Did you think this was a game, that playing with my feelings was a funny pastime while you waited for something else?" Lee flinched as if he had struck him, but his eyes flared defiance. It took all Sebastian had not to shout; a year's worth of bottled up anger and pain that he could no longer keep back, rushed to his head and he for the first time in his life realised what people meant by being blinded by rage.

With one hand he grabbed Lee by the arm and pushed him hard against the wall and with the other he unbuckled his belt, holding Lee firmly. He squirmed and groaned incoherently, but Sebastian only shook him and pushed him harder against the wall.

"No! Sebastian, you don't want to do that!" he gasped.

"Oh no? Allow me to disagree," Sebastian let out a huff of air that could've been a laugh or an exasperated heave. "I will show you whipped, my dear."

There was the sound of leather hitting bare flesh and then a frightened cry. The belt's sharp snap as it struck echoed in the silence, while Lee's cries that followed the impact became all the more distressed and fervent. He tried to move from Sebastian's grip, tried desperately to turn and wriggle his way out of the grasp, but giving up after about six sharp whacks.

The rage disappeared as suddenly as it had come and remorse came in its stead. Sebastian drew a deep breath and let go of the fragile creature that hung defenceless in his clutches. Lee clung to the wall as though seeking protection from it, panting for air and sobbing with anguish.

Sebastian backed away; the red stripes glowed on the pale, naked thighs; he closed his eyes and fled into the bedroom. He sank down on the bed, shivering, and let himself break down.

****

The house was still.

On the floor in the bathroom, huddled between the toilet and the wall was what he himself though of as the shattered remains of Conny Lee Craig. He wasn't crying anymore, there were no more tears left, none in the house apparently, since it was so quiet.

If he got up it would hurt, so he stayed down on the floor, shuddering from cold. Soon he would have to get up or he would become ill, yet he felt that he deserved being on the floor; he deserved becoming ill, very ill. He was a pathetic wretch, not even Sebastian would ever forgive him, not even Sebastian. The chill became too much and he crawled out and onto the rug instead so that he was kneeling by the shower drape. The smell of shampoo and hairspray would forever persist in the walls and the air of the bathroom and right now it made him feel sick.

Something heavy, crimson, and terry was suddenly placed over his shoulders and he flew back so that he nearly fell into the shower.

"Didn't mean to startle you," Sebastian mumbled. "I've made some spaghetti."

Conny swallowed and looked down.

"I didn't hear you in the kitchen," he whispered.

"I..." Sebastian squatted down beside him and stroke him over the hair. Conny usually drew away when he did that, but right now it felt comforting. "You need to eat." Sebastian said abruptly and rose. Conny grabbed his wrist.

"No! Don't leave me!" he pulled his hand down to his face and rested his forehead against his knuckles. His voice was frail and he didn't really know what he was saying. "Please don't leave me Sebastian, please!"

"I would think you'd want me to leave, or the other way around," his voice was cold, unfeeling and Conny gazed up at him with dread, but he didn't look any different. He looked like Sebastian, plane and simple; no rage, no resentment.

"You hate me, you do now, don't you?" he didn't care that he started to cry and they were real tears, not the forced ones he used to produce to get his way, but genuine tears. "You hate me."

"No, Lee, I don't hate you. I could never hate you," Sebastian sighed.

Conny didn't know what to say to change what had happened or how to explain that Sebastian had to love him. He had to, there was no one else. He refused to let go of the warm hand and at length Sebastian bent down, but not to sit beside him, but to pick him up. Conny held on to him until he dropped him in the armchair in the living room. The sudden contact with the fabric of the chair made him cry out, but he stifled the sobs that bubbled up within him.

"Oh," Sebastian looked apologetic, but he didn't say anything more about it. "I'll bring you some food."

"I'm not very hungry," Conny mumbled.

"Well, you are eating," Conny winced, it wasn't that his tone was harsh or that he glared, because he didn't, it was more the way he said it, calmly and just not expecting any objections - the way he had used to talk when they met.

He ate and was, to his wonder, very hungry, and all the time Sebastian was sitting on the footstool just a little bit from him. When he was done, Sebastian took his plate out in the kitchen and was gone a long time, coming back just as quiet and sitting down on the footstool yet again. Conny looked away, not speaking either.

"Are we going to talk now?" Sebastian asked gently. The query struck Conny as bizarre, first of all it was up to Sebastian to decide that, wasn't it? He had only to answer questions and ask forgiveness; he was, after all, the offender here.

"If you say so," he whispered.

"I do."

"All right." For another seemingly endless moment they sat looking away from each other and at last Conny couldn't take it anymore. "I know I'm a terrible person. I know that. Before, I used to try to change, but I can't. Some people are born bad I guess." He looked at his bare feet next to Sebastian's huge slippers. 'My feet have to be that big, or else I'd be blown to the ground when it's windy', he used to say. Conny smiled unintentionally and aligned his features the quickest he could before Sebastian noticed, he would certainly take it amiss.

"No. No, no one's born bad ," Sebastian muttered. "And you're not worse than anybody else, it's just that nobody's given you any limits."

"I want you to love me, Sebastian, I need you to love me," Conny pleaded.

"That's very selfish, isn't it? I mean why should I love you when you don't love me?" Sebastian's tone hinted at sadness more than asperity. Conny looked startled at him, tears burnt again in his eyes and he couldn't stop his lip from trembling.

"I... I..." a sob escaped him and he looked down, he couldn't say the words, it was too hard. Not because they weren't true, but because they were, and he couldn't bear the rejection that was bound to come.

Sebastian sighed or moaned and then he said: "I wish I could say that I don't love you, it would be so much easier if I didn't. But I still do, after everything, and I probably always will, miserably, but I can't help it."

"Then you'll forgive me?" Conny hated how hopelessly hopeful he sounded.

"No, that's much harder, I can't just forgive and forget. Not this, anything else, but not, not this."

"I shouldn't have expected you to... I..." he glanced up at Sebastian again and drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry. I can't expect you to forgive something that I can't forgive myself for." He looked down. "I... you're the first who I've ever..."

Conny quivered when Sebastian put his hands on his shoulders and pulled him closer.

"Don't be afraid of me, sweetie, I've hurt you one time too many and won't again, I promise," he said softly and touched his cheek very lightly. "You don't realise how much it means to hear you say that you're sorry. Coming from you - that you could bring yourself to say that - it gives me faith."

"Please don't give up on me, Sebastian," Conny whispered almost breathless.

"No, I won't give up on you," Sebastian said calmly. "But you will have to prove to me that I can trust you."

Conny stared at the floor and then raised his eyes to meet Sebastian's, which were steady, and had a strange warm turquoise colour, Conny suddenly knew he had never looked at Sebastian's eyes before, not looked at them so that he'd seen the colour. He lowered his gaze to the rest of his face; it was so sad and so hurt behind the sympathy that was really a mask he'd put up only to comfort him. If the pain after Sebastian's thrashing him would have still remained as strong, perhaps he could have ignored the guilt that welled up in him at the sight of the anguish he'd caused the only person who truly cared about him. But, the knowledge that Sebastian tried to hide his own feelings to make him feel better was too much for him.

"I don't know how," he whispered dispirited.

"In time, if we can change the way things have been, and we can, I will trust you again, but let's not expect too much from each other to begin with, all right?" Sebastian made an attempt at smiling.

"I don't know what happened, Sebastian, you have to believe that, I just don't have any character," Conny choked out.

"Oh, you've got plenty of character and stubbornness, if you only knew when to use it," Sebastian's facade of gentle patience fell down for a moment and he frowned.

Then Conny knew what he wanted, something that he wouldn't have dared express if not for it already happening. If Sebastian was ever going to forgive him, if things were ever going to change, he would have to ask him to punish him for this.

"Sebastian, please... I want you to... to finish what you started," was what he finally blurted out even before he had thought through what it would mean to have spoken the words.

"What?" Sebastian seemed shocked.

"I want you to finish it!" Conny shivered when he said it, but didn't look away from Sebastian.

"You mean... You want me to... to whip you, is that what you mean?" he asked and Conny nodded his head without answering. "No! Out of the question. What I did before was out of rage, and I don't want that to ever happen again."

"Please I want it, it has to hurt, I want it to hurt!"

"It's not about pain, I don't want to hurt you," Sebastian objected and Conny bit his lip prepared to argue, but was interrupted immediately. "I'm serious! I know I've told you how Ronan straightened me out, but that was different, he never spanked me out of anger."

Conny shook his head, wanting to explain what he was thinking, but it was too difficult and he found no words for it. Slowly he bent forward just sighing into his hands.

"Is it because you want me to suffer?" he said. He could take that, understand it - he'd done it so many times to Sebastian, make him know he was in disgrace, was how he used to think of it. "I deserve to, I know. I... I'm so stupid. Please I never wanted to throw this away, you were the rock, Sebastian, please. I can't... I can't..."

****

They were talking, Sebastian realised after awhile, it wasn't going well, but it was words and they were going somewhere. He reached out a hand and Lee didn't flinch away, he went to his knees with his arms around Lee's waist and they sat for a long time.

"I remember when you said that the first time, that I was your rock in a stormy sea, I wanted to be that, but somewhere along the way I forgot how it was done, I'm sorry."

Lee withdrew and pushed him away, his eyes brimming with tears and anger. He tried getting up but Sebastian pulled him back down and onto the floor with him, holding him while he shook.

"Don't... just don't... Why? Why do you have to say that? You always say that... and I'm the one, I'm the one who... I want you to get mad, I try and try and then I go too far and make you hate me!" he was reaching some point of hysteria, like the few times they'd had proper talks before - was that why they'd stopped? Possibly.

"I said I don't hate you! I'm hurt and angry, but I don't want you to be scared."

"What scares me is you not caring about me anymore."

Silence fell and they sat on the floor. Lee trembled, but was no longer wrecking with sobs and he could breathe somewhat normally again.

"Let's take a break," he whispered, "I need a drink... no, just water I mean," he added when Sebastian wanted to protest.

Once in the kitchen they sat down at the table, Lee on his usual seat, back against the wall. The table put some distance between them and Sebastian wasn't sure he though that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was quiet a minute or two, while Lee drank his water and Sebastian fiddled with the table mat in front of him.

Lee put the glass down and looked at Sebastian's restless hands,

"So it's not a break up?" Lee whispered.

"It's not what I want, unless you..."

"No! I mean, I don't want that, never wanted that."

Again awkward silence.

"So what now? You won't punish me, what do we do?" Lee sounded shaky, but he was much more back to his own self.

"We take one step at the time... we both need to be who we really want to be and not what the other is making us be," Sebastian looked up with a smile, he surprised himself sometimes, perhaps Ronan's way with words was contagious somehow.

"I... I think you're right," Lee mumbled, "but I need your help, selfish as it may sound. You have to make sure I don't lapse back into this prick I tend to be."

"I know... How do we do that?"

"I don't know."

Now it was Sebastian who reached out and took Lee's fidgeting hands in his, and now Lee didn't pull away. Then they sat there, quiet, holding each other's hands across the table.

****************************************************************************

Sebastian dabbed some butter in the pan and listened to it sizzle awhile before he let the pale yellow mix run down on the hot iron with a hissing and spitting. He piled the golden brown pancakes on two plates and put them on the table. Then he went to the bedroom.

Lee was sleeping on Sebastian's pillow hugging the blanket, walnut hair tussled and cheeks flushed. If there was a way to freeze time Sebastian would have chosen this moment, before his unstable Lee roused and the storm began. Then Lee opened one eye and peered up at Sebastian, a smile slowly touching his sweet face.

"Good morning," he yawned, sitting up and then stretched out his arms behind his head.

" Mornin' sweetie," Sebastian mumbled.

"What's for breakfast?" Lee asked and got up, finding the red robe.

"I made pancakes, don't I always?"

"Do you? Are they warm?" he came up to the door and gingerly trailed his fingertips up Sebastian's arm, he didn't object when his lover's hand strayed to his hair and he bent to kiss him. His response was unhurried and careful, but it was definitely there.

"Not as warm as that bed looks," Sebastian admitted.

"Why don't we eat them here then?" That idea suited Sebastian just fine and he untangled himself from Lee's exploring hands and with a smile left for the kitchen, a hesitant voice followed him. "Sebastian?"

"Hmm?"

"I... I love you..."

Sebastian's smile broadened. He wouldn't say it to his face - he didn't dare yet - but still it sent a warm feeling of security through him, soon it wouldn't be so hard anymore.

"Love you too, sweetie. You want sugar on these?"

"Oh, go all syrupy on me, why don't you?" Lee muttered in reply.

The End