Event- Brendan's poker night.

Venue- The Dog in the Pond with thanks to Carl Costello.

Time- Ten pm until late.

Attendance- By invitation only.

Dress code- As you are.

Hi, guys, I thought I would tell you a story about Brendan and me.

Tonight is poker night and we are already well into the night. I confess, my brain is a little fuzzy and I am beginning to see double. Only thing is, at this point I haven't realised that I am tipsy. I wasn't exactly meant to drink, you see.

Anyway, here I am acting invisible leaning on the bar casually but with my eyes set on the brightly lit centrally placed round pub table that is acting as a poker table. It is surrounded by a seated motley crew of five men and one woman.

I hiccup. The players sit around the table, silently eyeing each other up while they glance at their cards. I know some of them; Carl Costello, Jack Osbourne, the woman, I think her name is Connie who was at the last poker session.

And, of course, Brendan.

I am a bit annoyed, right. I get that we can't act all lovey dovey, kissy kissy. We never do anyway. But he has barely looked at me all night unless it is for 'the code' and I swear he has been acting even more hostile towards me than usual.

Or maybe I am just being paranoid. Right. That is probably it. I'm being paranoid.

I'll tell you how it all happened; how I got here.

Yesterday, Brendan asked me to 'serve drinks' at tonight's game. I'll tell you what we were doing when he asked in a minute. Let's just say it made it very hard for me to say 'no'.

First, though, let me say that I knew what he meant by 'serve drinks'. He wanted me to help him cheat. And I knew that I could get away with it because I have before. People who don't know my criminal past look through me. I look harmless; a scrawny, quiet lad who appears too young to be serving booze.

I know I should have said no. I know that, yeah. I don't want to get into trouble. Crime is in my past and a part of me feels guilty.

But I must confess that another part of me feels chuffed to bits that we are getting away with this.

I stand up straight at the bar and get some work done. I walk around the table slowly looking out for empty glasses. It is important to keep the alcohol flowing.

"Loosens the purse strings and makes players careless." Brendan mumbled into my ear yesterday.

I pick up a couple of empty glasses and, at the same time, I subtly try to catch a glimpse of the players' cards.

So far I've been really good. Brendan is winning with my help but losing just enough to not arouse suspicion.

My feet are getting a little unsteady but not enough for anyone to notice. It is enough, however, for me to need to concentrate on my steps more than I usually do. I should stop drinking behind the bar before I start fucking up.

Anyway, with confidence I walk around to where Bren is sitting and deliberately brush against his back. That has nothing to do with 'the code' or cheating. It's just that the booze in my bloodstream makes me horny and feeling Brendan's suit material against the bare skin of my arm brings back memories of the mind-blowing sex we had yesterday when Cheryl was out for the night with her mate, Lindsay.

I feel Brendan stiffen against my touch; as if he is rejecting it.

I'm not surprised. He acts as if I have leprosy when we are in public but alone he can't keep his hands off me. Last night he stripped out of his suit, a different one to tonight's, in record time.

And this brings me nicely to how I ended up saying 'yes' to poker night.

As I head back to the bar, I remember how he collapsed on top of me after fucking me hard into the mattress. We rode out the last of our aftershocks, all sweaty and out of breath. He didn't move for a while; not that I was complaining. I love it when we are like this; slowly coming off our climaxes and letting our bodies cool down while still connected.

But every time he allows us to stay together like this, and it is only a handful of times, I have to stop myself from saying something pathetic like how much he means to me. I always get the urge to let him know how he makes me feel; how amazing and alive. But I know that Brendan would find it too much and push himself off me to break the intimacy. He would tell me to piss off or even worse he might use his fists to set me straight the way he did in the beginning.

So last night I stayed quiet and rubbed my hands over his slick back enjoying his naked weight as it covered me; hoping my hands showed what my mouth couldn't say.

Does that sound stupid?

Eventually, though, the nearness had to end. He ran a hand down my sweaty, scrawny chest (I have started doing push ups and weights to build up a little muscle though and I think it is beginning to show). Then he pushed off me and pulled out. I stayed unmoving but grinning like a Cheshire cat, one hundred percent satisfied. I watched as he pulled the loaded condom off, tied it up and tossed it in the bin in the corner of the room.

I was shameless in my admiration of his naked body as he knelt, back on his heels, between my still spread-eagled legs.

"Wind your tongue in, Stephen." He said. "I know I am a thing of beauty."

I laughed, lifted my leg up and pushed against his chest with my foot so he toppled over. "Egomaniac!"

"Just saying it like it is, young man." He said with a glint in his eyes and then leaned down over me on his hands and knees.

As he stared deeply into my eyes I found my laugh fade into a small grin. It was looks like the one he was giving me that gave me hope that maybe there was something there; that Brendan really cared. He glanced down my sweaty, cum covered chest and raised an eyebrow.

"You okay?" He asked softly.

Things had become intense, fast, hard and frantic but I not only handled it, it was better than it had ever been. I nodded with a smile.

"Never better."

"Good." He said. He leaned over to the side table and picked up a cloth. He ran it over our chests and down between my legs cleaning up.

When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and reached down to bite my earlobe. He whispered,

"Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday last week?"

I was shocked that he knew. I barely celebrated it anyway. As you know, it isn't like I have many friends, what with not going to college, having to take care of the kids and working all hours of the day.

So on the big day this is what happened. Amy gave me a card. I took the kids to the park and treated them to McDonald's during the day. I bought myself a new pair of trainers because the old ones were falling apart. And then in the evening, Rae cooked me a lasagne and baked me a half burned chocolate cake.

And I don't like chocolate.

I shrugged as I looked up at Brendan's intense stare. "It isn't important." I said honestly. "My parents didn't even call."

I try not to think about them too much. They are in my past. I come from one of those 'broken homes' they talk about on telly. My stepdad beat mum and me up and mum failed to protect me because she drowned her sorrows in booze.

My eyes probably gave away more than I wanted them to. Brendan sighed and put his forehead against mine.

"It is not your fault you can't pick your parents. Some of them are plain shit."

It wasn't the most sentimental thing I had ever heard but it made me feel better.

He gently pressed his lips to mine. "Happy birthday, Stephen."

"Thank you." I whispered back and reached my hands up to wrap them lightly around his waist. I grinned at him. "I'm not a teenager anymore. I'm all grown up, me."

"Yeah. Yeah ye are. But you still need to have celebrations in your life. Otherwise what is the point?"

I didn't get what he meant. He can be so hard to get sometimes.

"We need to do something about that." And he licked my top lip. God, my bones go all weak when he does that. It is like he tastes me.

"You make me feel old." He whispered.

"You're not." I protested. He is well fit in my opinion.

"I'm thirty-one."

"So?" I asked.

One corner of his mouth turned up and then he kissed me again. "Stephen, I need your help tomorrow."

How was I ever going to say no to poker night after that?

-0-0-

So here I am in The Dog trying not to look shady as I head towards the bar with the two empty glasses on definitely unsteady feet. Wait. When did they start feeling like jelly? The booze is really starting to get to me.

I haven't told you about how we pull off the con.

It is simple enough. I try to find out the highest hand on the table while taking drink orders. Then I reveal it to Brendan using a pre-agreed code system using the liquors hanging in the dispensing unit on the back wall of the bar. Brendan drilled the system into me at Chez Chez months ago before our first poker night together.

We have this down to a fine art.

I will never forget my reward for learning the code. I heat up just thinking about it. Let's just say that if Cheryl had walked behind the bar at the club she would have been left in no doubt about Brendan's sexuality. She caught us while I was getting my 'reward' and saw me standing behind the beer taps looking flushed.

"You alright, Ste?" She asked with concern in front of the bar.

I blushed as I felt Brendan, who was hidden under the bar's bench, take his warm wet mouth off my rigid cock. Cheryl reached across and placed her hand on my forehead. "You've broken a sweat."

"I'm fine." I remember saying faintly.

Thank goodness she strolled off into the office allowing Brendan a chance to get up off his knees, dust off, wink at me, count to ten and catch up with his sister in the office.

Anyway, back to poker night. Hang on. God, I can't even keep my train of thought. I definitely drank too much.

I hope you are following my story.

I haven't even told you how I got so drunk, have I? It will become clear in a moment.

I shake my head briskly to clear my head. I should be concentrating on the job, not the unspeakable things Brendan can do with his mouth.

I look over at Brendan to subtly get his attention but he is already looking at me with a bored expression.

He sits at the round table in a seat that faces the bar as we planned. I take a tall glass and put it under the upside bottle of rum which is on the back wall lined up with other liquors. I press the dispenser at the bottle's neck twice. Then I fill it with diet coke.

A double rum and coke is code for three of a kind. Carl holds that hand but I think Brendan has a full house; a higher hand.

Brendan lightly taps his finger to his temple. That means he has understood my message. I take two healthy gulps out of the drink before throwing the rest down the sink as I have for every 'code' drink I have made tonight. Then I get busy pouring a beer for Jack and making a cosmopolitan for Connie.

"Jesus, Brendan!" Jack exclaims with a laugh as Brendan wins the round. "You are on fire today!"

Bren raises an eyebrow and gives a small lopsided smile. "What can say, Jacky-O? Luck of the Irish."

"Right." Carl says with a smile. "Remind me to make this the last time I play with you. You are bleeding me dry here."

"You are a long way from broke." Bren replies. "Weren't you on a six figure salary back in your footie days?"

He grins behind the glass of whiskey that he has been nursing all night. He has barely drunk any alcohol to keep a clear head.

I have, on the other hand. I guess, without realising, the units have added up from all the sips I have been taking from various mixed drinks, cocktails and shots.

Fine, I admit it. I am officially smashed.

And I am feeling a little reckless.

And horny as hell.

Isn't Brendan satisfied with what he has won already? It is over a grand and easily the highest amount he has won in one sitting during one of these low key 'casual' games.

Plus he knows that there is no one at my house tonight. Amy and the kids are with Mike for two days. I wish he would wrap this evening up so we can spend some time together.

I stare at him with hooded eyes from behind the bar. He has warned me not to do that but I can't help it. He is looking good and the alcohol is lowering my guard.

I concentrate on his mouth which is lined by that moustache that tickles when he presses his lips against mine. I stumble towards the table carrying the two drinks and put them next to Jack and Connie.

"Thank you." They mumble, barely acknowledging me.

"Stephen." Brendan says to me quietly. He touches his index finger to my arm to get my attention. "My glass is empty. Another whiskey. Now."

I look at him with narrow, angry eyes. I hate when he bosses me around like that in front of others. I stay where I am and fold my arms over my chest defiantly.

"In a minute." I say. God, am I slurring?

Shit.

"Now, Stephen." He orders firmly. The table of players looks between the two of us uneasily.

"Is everything okay?" Carl asks.

I shrug and pout and continue to stare at Brendan. This close up I can feel his heat and smell his aftershave and it turns me on even more. He scent is animalistic and manly like him. One hundred percent Brendan Brady. I wish we were alone so I could...

"Stephen!" Brendan says sharply, getting my attention. He is worried. I am acting strange. I am practically drooling over him in front of these people.

I snap out of it.

"Sorry." I mumble. "What can I get ya, Bren?" I ask in what I hope is a professional manner.

I stare at the crucifix that hangs from his open collar neck; the one I feel on my back when he takes me from behind. I make a strangled sound that I hope no one hears.

But they do and Bren looks at me oddly. When I sway on my feet I see his face change as he realises that I am drunk as shit.

I can see his brain working a mile a minute. He is trying to figure out how to solve the problem of a drunk Stephen Hay before I slip up and give our relationship or our cheating away.

"Another whiskey." He repeats slowly, studying my face. His voice is controlled when he adds. "Pretty please."

I can tell he is angry with me. All I had to do tonight was be invisible, serve drinks and help him cheat. Instead I am drunk, acting up and gagging for it.

I want to apologise but I know I can't in front of everyone here. Even drunk I know it would seem odd. So I stumble back to the bar and pour Brendan his drink without another word.

"Looks like your barman has been drinking on the sly, Brendan." Carl says while nodding in my direction.

"What can I say?" Bren says, giving me a deep penetrating look as I walk back to him with his drink. His voice is low and serious. "You can't get the staff now-a-days."

My hand is shaking as I place the whiskey on the table next to him.

I do not understand how what happens next happens. The glass gets knocked over and everything seems to go in slow motion. The whiskey spills all over Bren's crisp suit jacket, white shirt and onto his lap.

He pulls away from the table quickly.

"For fuck's sake!" He shouts at me.

My hands go up to my mouth in shock.

"Oh my God!" I say. "I am so sorry."

I don't get how that happened. I swear I placed the glass on the table but I am lashed so maybe I didn't. Maybe I accidently spilt it all over him. I use the towel that is flung over my shoulder to dab him dry.

"Stop, Stephen." He mutters menacingly but I am not listening. I am mortified.

"Stop!" He shouts. That stills my actions.

"Take it easy, Bren." Jack says. "Give the kid a break."

Brendan stands up and pockets his winnings in one move. "You know what, fuck you, Jack! This was Armani. Now it's fucked." He points at his drenched suit.

He stares at me for a long moment and I try not to cower. Then he quickly ducks his head towards me as if he is about to head butt me. I pull away from him and stumble backwards.

"You know what. I'm done here." Brendan says in his Irish lilt to the assembled group. He looks at me steadily. His face is right up against mine and I can feel his angry spit hitting me as he shouts, "And you! You redefine incompetent! You're a pitiful waste of space!"

The angry vein on his forehead pops up on his bright red face. He is scaring me. He glances at the table one last time and then storms out without a backwards glance.

I feel like crying. I know it is pathetic but I hate that I have upset him. I know that my reaction is partly alcohol-related. The shouting has sobered me up a little.

"You alright, Stephen?" Jack asks.

I nod as I pick up Brendan's empty glass.

"I think we should call it a night." Connie says kindly. "Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

I nod again.

"Everyone knows that Brendan can be a bit of an arse." Carl chips in.

It is stupid, I know, but I don't like people taking swipes at Brendan even when he is being mean to me. These people don't understand how close I came to not only potentially giving away the cheating but also my relationship to Brendan.

I grab my jacket and walk out of the pub with tired feet and a heavy heart. I want to text him or call but I know it is probably better to give him some time to calm down.

The streets of Hollyoaks are quiet. I pass the odd person here and there as I approach my council estate. The look like they are on their way home from a night out. From their laughs and banter I figure their night is going better than mine.

I round the corner into the cul de sac where my house is and I bow my head down looking for my keys. When I find them and look up I am shocked to see Brendan waiting in his stained suit, hands in pockets, outside my front door.

I stop worried about what he is doing here. Is he going to physically punish me for what happened at The Dog?

"Hi." He says.

"Hi." I keep a good three metres of distance, a head start, and try to make out his expression. It is hard in the dark.

"You're drunk." He says slowly.

I take a further step back, just in case. I bet you he is a very fast runner. "A bit. Yeah. I was bored looking at you guys play for three hours."

He stares at me but doesn't say anything. So I continue,

"And you didn't look at me or talk to me properly once. Not unless it was for a drink or to cheat."

I manage not to slur but I know I am whining.

Brendan walks up to me and stops only when we are practically chest to chest. He reminds me of those predatory wild cats on the Discovery Channel but for some reason I don't feel scared.

I can barely hear his low voice. "I thought that was the deal, Stephen. We couldn't come over bessie mates, now could we?"

I think about it. No, I guess that would have defeated the point.

"And you were doing plenty of staring and making puppy dog eyes for both of us." He whispers into my ear.

"I wasn't." I protest but I know I am lying.

I can feel his damp suit against me and feel bad.

"I am sorry for spilling your drink on you." I say looking up at him. "I'll give you whatever it costs to get it dry-cleaned."

I rest a palm flat onto a damp lapel over his heart.

His whisper carries breath that is vaguely scented with the booze he was drinking earlier. "I can think of a much more fun way for you to repay me."

My mouth goes dry. For a second I think he is going to kiss me, right here, outdoors where someone might see us but he pulls away with that control that I wish I had.

"Come on." He says softly. "Let me in."

I swallow in anticipation. "You aren't mad at me?"

He gives me a small smile. "What? That little bit of drama back then? I was done for the night. We made money. I was getting bored and you kept giving me those fuck me eyes from across the room. I needed a get out clause."

I frown, not understanding.

"I nudged you into spilling the drink." He says slowly as if speaking to an idiot. "I needed to fuck you and I needed you to stop being so fucking obvious."

The penny drops. "You messed up your suit and shouted at me to get us out of poker night?"

"Ding, ding, ding. The cute boy in black gets ten points." He mutters in a dry tone. "Now am I staying or going?"

I hesitate for less than a second before brushing past him, unlocking the door to the house and looking at him with a smile.

Brendan smiles back. "A wise choice, young Stephen. A wise choice indeed."

And you know what guys, I know that things will only get better now.

To be continued.