The Art of Trying (Part 8)
Just a short chapter this time, which is just as well because it's very violent, sorry folks. :(
* * * *
His head rushed; disorientated, dizzy. The hand that was clasped around his mouth was sweaty and rough… making it hard to breathe. And then a fierce hard foot against his ribs… a crack… mind-blowing pain as Ste tried to scream, but his voice came out rasped and breathless, his stomach closing in on itself, chest heaving with the agony. And his mind raced, bringing back sour memories, sick reminisces of similar pain…
Brendan’s face inches from his own, eyes flickering with that familiar mixture of anger and lustfulness. Ste’s heart hammering nervously as he backs away slightly… waiting for the punch or kiss but never knowing which it’s going to be. But this time is different. Brendan kissed him in that club…in front of everyone…there doesn’t have to be secrets anymore which means there doesn’t have to be pain… they can end this… they can be together.
Then Brendan’s mouth against his, pushing him, leading him to the bedroom. Ste allows himself to be guided backwards, already ridding himself of his own clothes as his skin boils with passion and desire. It’s been too long. He’s been craving this deep down. He wants Brendan and he wants him badly. This is it now. This is finally happening for them.
Ste is pushed back onto the bed, and Brendan is pulling off his t-shirt, then his trousers, and Ste allows himself to lay bare in front of him. He can’t think straight - all he can see is Brendan’s eyes scouting over his body, arousing him with their intenseness. Brendan takes all of Ste in, eyes glazing over his mouth, his chest, stomach, hips and groin.
“Please” Ste whispers hoarsely, pulling him closer, bringing their mouths to meet again, taking in all of Brendan’s scent, his familiar kiss, the roughness of his tongue. He tries to pull off Brendan’s clothes, but Brendan clasps his wrists tight, holding them down. He kisses down Ste’s body. His lips wrap around Ste’s cock. And Ste gasps - in ecstasy, mind and body pulsating. He wants this so bad. He needs this.
Brendan teases him until Ste’s body is squirming in anticipation, rising off the mattress as he arches up for Brendan’s touch.
“C’mon…” Ste croaks breathlessly, and Brendan finally frees his wrists… allows Ste to relieve him of his clothes until they’re both naked, pressed together, panting, kissing, touching, holding. Ste’s legs wrap over Brendan’s shoulders as he urgently tugs him closer, “C’mon, c’mon…” he mutters incoherently.
Brendan is quick with the condom. Quick to position himself over Ste so their faces are inches apart, their chests beating hard against each other, Brendan’s hands gripped possessively to Stephen’s thighs, he pushes in.
Ste gasps; the feel of Brendan penetrating inside of him… it’s been too long… and he’s in ecstasy as he rocks against the man, hands raking through Brendan’s hair, allowing Brendan to fill him, to wrap him completely in Brendan’s hold, to take possession of him. He is Brendan’s. Will always be Brendan’s. He sees that now.
And then Ste was pulled to his feet, body shaking under the pressure on his ribs, his hands flailed out blindly to stop the attackers… whoever they were… he could only see spots and brightness. He couldn’t even yell for them to stop… his chest didn’t have enough air. The next thing he knew, rough hands were pulling at his hair, another pair around his neck and a fist caught him hard by the side of the head, knocking him sideways into the arms of another assailant.
And Ste can’t breathe… can’t think… too overwhelmed with confusion and terror and trauma as Brendan pushes him hard up against the wall, face full of venom. This Brendan is the opposite to the one he made love with, just one hour earlier. And this isn’t supposed to happen… not now…not again… things are supposed to be alright now… they’re going to be together… why won’t Brendan see that?!? Why does he hold Ste like this and allow Ste to cry with such coldness?... Like he’s possessed.
“Don’t!” Ste cries out… but it’s too late, Brendan’s fist meets with his face… and the power of it sending Ste to the floor, shaking. The pain is immense - but nothing compared to the uproar inside of him. The trauma of it happening again. Again. The sickness of this being Ste’s own fault… for crawling so pathetically back to the man who abused him. The despair at his own stupidity… at his own hopeful delusional belief that things would be different this time. The sheer mortification at the way Brendan looks at him now, with so much anger, with so much disrespect for the way Ste THREW himself back into his powerful arms. He’s so stupid. Why is he so stupid?!?
He can’t even meet Brendan’s eyes now. He can’t bear the pain of it - to know how Brendan feels in moments like this. To know that, despite everything, Brendan is hating him. Hating everything he stands for. It makes his insides freeze with such intense hurt… he just wants to crawl away… to get away from this…
But Brendan’s not finished. He paces. Wild-eyed… like a mad-man. So conflicted, so torn, so angry, so resentful… so confused. Brendan burns with loathing… he wants all this to end… to stop happening to him. To end the feelings Steven makes him feel.
Ste doesn’t even have time to flinch before another brutal fist catches him hard in the jaw. The force of it sends his head back… his forehead hits the side of the table. Pain scorches through him. Blood drizzles sickeningly from his lip; the taste of it like the taste of failure… of misery. The gash in his forehead drips blood which mixes with sweat, and then falls to mix with tears, as he struggles to breathe through pure hard sobs.
Brendan is just walking away from him. His shoulders are rising and falling, his body visibly shaking, and then he’s gone. The man who touched Ste so tenderly… as if he loved him… and now reduces him to THIS. Ste hears the front door slam, and he knows he’s been left well and truly alone. But he doesn’t move for hours. He just crawls into himself, knees clutched to his chest, and feels his heart ache harder than his bruises.
“STOP!!” Ste manages to choke out through rasped breaths, as another punch in the stomach has him keel over… held upright only by one of the men’s strong arms around his neck.
“What’s the matter, Steven?” Mr Brady’s voice droned over the sound of Ste’s hard gasps for breath. “Thought you liked it a little rough?”
Ste felt sick with anger, with pain, injustice. But mostly fear. He wasn’t getting out of here. Another punch in the gut and he was on the floor. Then scorching pain in his fingers - a distant-sounding crack as boots met bones and broke them in half. A kick to the head and he could hardly see anymore; so blinded by pain. He heard himself scream out, but it just sounded far-away and distorted. He tasted blood. He couldn’t move. But they continued. The last thing he remembered was his own screams of agony, before everything faded to blackness. His body lay limp and motionless and took four mens merciless kicks and punches, until the skin beneath the blood and bruises was barely recognisable anymore.
* * * *
His head rushed; disorientated, dizzy. The hand that was clasped around his mouth was sweaty and rough… making it hard to breathe. And then a fierce hard foot against his ribs… a crack… mind-blowing pain as Ste tried to scream, but his voice came out rasped and breathless, his stomach closing in on itself, chest heaving with the agony. And his mind raced, bringing back sour memories, sick reminisces of similar pain…
Brendan’s face inches from his own, eyes flickering with that familiar mixture of anger and lustfulness. Ste’s heart hammering nervously as he backs away slightly… waiting for the punch or kiss but never knowing which it’s going to be. But this time is different. Brendan kissed him in that club…in front of everyone…there doesn’t have to be secrets anymore which means there doesn’t have to be pain… they can end this… they can be together.
Then Brendan’s mouth against his, pushing him, leading him to the bedroom. Ste allows himself to be guided backwards, already ridding himself of his own clothes as his skin boils with passion and desire. It’s been too long. He’s been craving this deep down. He wants Brendan and he wants him badly. This is it now. This is finally happening for them.
Ste is pushed back onto the bed, and Brendan is pulling off his t-shirt, then his trousers, and Ste allows himself to lay bare in front of him. He can’t think straight - all he can see is Brendan’s eyes scouting over his body, arousing him with their intenseness. Brendan takes all of Ste in, eyes glazing over his mouth, his chest, stomach, hips and groin.
“Please” Ste whispers hoarsely, pulling him closer, bringing their mouths to meet again, taking in all of Brendan’s scent, his familiar kiss, the roughness of his tongue. He tries to pull off Brendan’s clothes, but Brendan clasps his wrists tight, holding them down. He kisses down Ste’s body. His lips wrap around Ste’s cock. And Ste gasps - in ecstasy, mind and body pulsating. He wants this so bad. He needs this.
Brendan teases him until Ste’s body is squirming in anticipation, rising off the mattress as he arches up for Brendan’s touch.
“C’mon…” Ste croaks breathlessly, and Brendan finally frees his wrists… allows Ste to relieve him of his clothes until they’re both naked, pressed together, panting, kissing, touching, holding. Ste’s legs wrap over Brendan’s shoulders as he urgently tugs him closer, “C’mon, c’mon…” he mutters incoherently.
Brendan is quick with the condom. Quick to position himself over Ste so their faces are inches apart, their chests beating hard against each other, Brendan’s hands gripped possessively to Stephen’s thighs, he pushes in.
Ste gasps; the feel of Brendan penetrating inside of him… it’s been too long… and he’s in ecstasy as he rocks against the man, hands raking through Brendan’s hair, allowing Brendan to fill him, to wrap him completely in Brendan’s hold, to take possession of him. He is Brendan’s. Will always be Brendan’s. He sees that now.
And then Ste was pulled to his feet, body shaking under the pressure on his ribs, his hands flailed out blindly to stop the attackers… whoever they were… he could only see spots and brightness. He couldn’t even yell for them to stop… his chest didn’t have enough air. The next thing he knew, rough hands were pulling at his hair, another pair around his neck and a fist caught him hard by the side of the head, knocking him sideways into the arms of another assailant.
And Ste can’t breathe… can’t think… too overwhelmed with confusion and terror and trauma as Brendan pushes him hard up against the wall, face full of venom. This Brendan is the opposite to the one he made love with, just one hour earlier. And this isn’t supposed to happen… not now…not again… things are supposed to be alright now… they’re going to be together… why won’t Brendan see that?!? Why does he hold Ste like this and allow Ste to cry with such coldness?... Like he’s possessed.
“Don’t!” Ste cries out… but it’s too late, Brendan’s fist meets with his face… and the power of it sending Ste to the floor, shaking. The pain is immense - but nothing compared to the uproar inside of him. The trauma of it happening again. Again. The sickness of this being Ste’s own fault… for crawling so pathetically back to the man who abused him. The despair at his own stupidity… at his own hopeful delusional belief that things would be different this time. The sheer mortification at the way Brendan looks at him now, with so much anger, with so much disrespect for the way Ste THREW himself back into his powerful arms. He’s so stupid. Why is he so stupid?!?
He can’t even meet Brendan’s eyes now. He can’t bear the pain of it - to know how Brendan feels in moments like this. To know that, despite everything, Brendan is hating him. Hating everything he stands for. It makes his insides freeze with such intense hurt… he just wants to crawl away… to get away from this…
But Brendan’s not finished. He paces. Wild-eyed… like a mad-man. So conflicted, so torn, so angry, so resentful… so confused. Brendan burns with loathing… he wants all this to end… to stop happening to him. To end the feelings Steven makes him feel.
Ste doesn’t even have time to flinch before another brutal fist catches him hard in the jaw. The force of it sends his head back… his forehead hits the side of the table. Pain scorches through him. Blood drizzles sickeningly from his lip; the taste of it like the taste of failure… of misery. The gash in his forehead drips blood which mixes with sweat, and then falls to mix with tears, as he struggles to breathe through pure hard sobs.
Brendan is just walking away from him. His shoulders are rising and falling, his body visibly shaking, and then he’s gone. The man who touched Ste so tenderly… as if he loved him… and now reduces him to THIS. Ste hears the front door slam, and he knows he’s been left well and truly alone. But he doesn’t move for hours. He just crawls into himself, knees clutched to his chest, and feels his heart ache harder than his bruises.
“STOP!!” Ste manages to choke out through rasped breaths, as another punch in the stomach has him keel over… held upright only by one of the men’s strong arms around his neck.
“What’s the matter, Steven?” Mr Brady’s voice droned over the sound of Ste’s hard gasps for breath. “Thought you liked it a little rough?”
Ste felt sick with anger, with pain, injustice. But mostly fear. He wasn’t getting out of here. Another punch in the gut and he was on the floor. Then scorching pain in his fingers - a distant-sounding crack as boots met bones and broke them in half. A kick to the head and he could hardly see anymore; so blinded by pain. He heard himself scream out, but it just sounded far-away and distorted. He tasted blood. He couldn’t move. But they continued. The last thing he remembered was his own screams of agony, before everything faded to blackness. His body lay limp and motionless and took four mens merciless kicks and punches, until the skin beneath the blood and bruises was barely recognisable anymore.