Saturday 31 July 6am
The shrill tone of the alarm woke them both at six. McManus cursed as he threw an arm out to silence the clock, then again as he saw the time. He threw back the covers and heaved himself up into a sitting position, which he held for a few seconds before standing up with a groan and stretching.
Bright sunshine edged around the curtains, giving enough light for Charlie to see McManus's naked form in silhouette, and his cock twitched in appreciation. He wasn't given long to enjoy the view, though, as McManus called to him.
"Come on, lad. Time to get up. Chris'll be here at seven so you'll have to be ready to leave then."
Charlie grumbled and his stomach muscles protested as he pulled himself to a vaguely upright position. McManus had already disappeared into the bathroom, but Charlie needed coffee before he would be able to manage anything as complex as a shower. He stumbled his way down the stairs and found the kitchen - another large room, with a table and chairs against one wall.
He filled the kettle and switched it on. He looked around but there was no visible tea or coffee, and he hesitated - he didn't want to start opening up cupboards without McManus's permission, but he really, really needed his coffee. Cutlery was easy to find - the top drawer, as always - and mugs were on a shelf beside the stove. Eventually, as the kettle approached the boil, he pulled open the nearest doors and found the tea, coffee and sugar all set out neatly. He pulled a mug off the shelf, opened the jar of coffee and took a big sniff. Wonderful.
There was a teapot on the bench, so he guessed that McManus was more of a tea-drinker than a coffee-drinker. He made a pot of tea, just in case, and was proved right when McManus came down the stairs a few minutes later, shaved, showered and neatly dressed in brown slacks and a white shirt.
"Tea? Brilliant." McManus poured himself a mug and added milk and three sugars, stirring thoroughly before taking his first sip. "Ah," he said in appreciation. He glanced at his watch. "You'd better grab a shower. I put a couple of towels out for you." His tone was pleasant but dismissive.
Charlie drained his coffee and went upstairs without an argument. He didn't even think about shaving, but a quick shower made him feel a little more human. He was delighted to find that the soap had the same spicy citrus scent that he had smelled on McManus before, and he used it liberally, cleaning off the last of the residues from the night before. He was still a little sore, but not as much as he had thought he would be - McManus had been a lot more gentle with him than a rent-boy had any right to expect.
He wandered back into the bedroom clad only in a towel, and started collecting his clothes, so readily abandoned a few hours ago. His leather trousers were on the back of a chair - he had a vague memory of picking them up on his way to the bathroom during the night - and he picked them up. He was dismayed to see some scratches on the back, no doubt from being forced up against the bricks in the alley, and he wondered if he could hide them with polish or a marker pen or something. They were by far the most expensive item in his wardrobe, and he certainly couldn't hope to replace them any time soon. He drew them on, smoothing them over his hips, enjoying the feel of the leather on his skin. His shirt proved more elusive, but was eventually tracked down under the bed (and how did it get there? he wondered). He shook out it out - it was crumpled and stained, and had a small tear at the back, but that couldn't be helped.
He walked into the kitchen to find McManus eating toast. McManus looked at his shirt with disapproval, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he told Charlie to help himself to toast.
"I wasn't sure what you wanted on it," he added, "but there's butter, jam, marmalade, Marmite - take your pick."
"Thanks," said Charlie as he made a beeline for the toast. "Marmalade's fine." He was ravenous and demolished the two slices in a few short bites. He tried not to look around for more.
McManus laughed. "Still young and growing?" He grabbed two more slices and put them in the toaster. "I've just got to get ready, won't be long." He disappeared up the stairs.
Charlie sat and thought as he waited for the toast to pop up. He'd spent many an hour over the last week imagining what his first full night with McManus would be like, and he hadn't come anywhere near the truth. The man was such a contradiction - it was as if the man in the office and the man in the bedroom were two completely different people. The only thing he'd worked out was that as long as he did what he was told and didn't make the man angry, McManus wasn't too bad. If he fucked up, he could expect to be punished. That was all pretty clear. The only difficulty lay in working out McManus's mood and what he wanted, both of which seemed to change from one minute to the next. He didn't think he'd ever get that sorted.
He ate his toast, then washed the plates and cutlery, leaving them on the draining board to dry. He had just finished putting the jams away and wiping down the table when McManus came back in and nodded his approval. Charlie felt pleased that he'd guessed right, then annoyed that this man's approval meant so much to him. I'm really going to have to get a grip on this, he thought.
"Come on, then." McManus gathered up his jacket. "It's five to, and Chris will be here any minute."
They left the flat and walked down the stairs to the entrance. It was a pleasant morning, with the promise of another warm sunny day. Charlie took a deep breath, which was cut short when his stomach muscles protested.
They stood in silence for a while, then Charlie remembered that he had to ask McManus something. He wasn't sure how to address him, though. Should he call him McManus? Mister McManus? Sir? He settled for clearing his throat and voicing a rather indeterminate "Umm..."
"What do you want, Charlie?"
"Er... Are you going to be calling me tomorrow?" he asked, a little tentatively.
"Why?"
"Well," he fidgeted a little, "Liam and I usually have lunch with Mum and Dad on Sundays, and if you... well, if you need me during the day, I'd rather know now."
"Don't want me to call you while you're there, eh?"
"Well... no. And the bus timetables aren't that good on a Sunday so I wouldn't be able to travel very quickly. I don't want to be late again."
McManus smirked. "A little forward planning at last?"
Charlie felt himself blush and looked away.
"I'm away to Glasgow for the weekend, so you're safe for today. Be at Whitefield station tomorrow evening at eight, and we'll pick you up on the way back. If we're going to be later than eight-thirty I'll ring you. Make sure you're carrying the phone."
Charlie nodded. That was pretty easy. If he spent the afternoon with his parents he could just catch the train or the bus up from Prestwich.
The car drove up and McManus got in. "Remember - eight o'clock at the station," he called out to Charlie.
"I'll be there." Charlie waited until the car had pulled away, then turned and headed for the bus stop. With any luck he could be back home and in bed before Liam woke up.
Sunday 01 August 1999
Charlie was sitting on the bench outside Whitefield station at seven-thirty the following evening, watching the few evening travellers go in and out. He was still sitting there at eight o'clock and starting to get a little bored, but he didn't dare wander more than a few paces from the station entrance in case McManus turned up. It was twenty minutes past eight when the dark blue sedan eventually pulled up in front of him, and he heaved a sigh of relief.
He got to his feet and went to open the door. He was moving a little stiffly, though he tried to hide it, and McManus noticed.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked. "Is that from Friday?"
"Nothing. Just Liam being a prick as usual." Charlie really didn't want to talk about it and tried to make his tone as off-hand as possible. He got into the car and was thankful that McManus didn't push the point until they were dropped off at his place five minutes later.
McManus told Chris to pick him up at eight the next morning, then got out of the car. Charlie followed, and Chris drove off without a backward glance.
McManus turned to Charlie and saw the careful way he was moving. "What happened?" he asked again, a little more sternly, as he inspected the red mark on Charlie's left cheek.
"No, it's nothing. Just a bit of an argument with Liam. We fight all the time. Nothing to it, really."
"I'd have thought that broken arm would have held him back a bit."
"Yeah, well, he's right-handed,"
"What were you fighting about?"
Charlie brushed the question aside. "Nothing important. I'm here, aren't I? Let's just get on with whatever you had planned."
McManus frowned, as if he wanted to pursue the subject further, then shrugged. "I'm not sure I had anything planned for this evening. I'm too tired to go out, that's for sure. Fancy some Thai?"
"Yeah, Thai would be great."
"Good." McManus opened the door and gestured for Charlie to turn right, into the living room.
It was a spacious, well-lit and well-proportioned room, containing two comfortable-looking black leather sofas, and a TV and stereo unit in one corner. To Charlie's astonishment, there was a large built-in bookcase along one wall which was filled to overflowing with books, like the one in the bedroom. The two windows caught the evening sun, which bathed the room in a soft golden light.
McManus headed for the phone and ordered chicken with lemongrass and a green curry. Charlie wandered over to the rack of CDs beside the stereo, curious to see what the man like to listen to.
There were a couple of Beatles albums - that was good - and some other oldies like The Doors and Queen, plus some Oasis, Blur, silverchair, Eurythmics; several Kylie Minogue albums (Charlie made a face at that, he couldn't stand her and her strangled-budgie voice); Clannad, Enya and The Corrs (well, McManus was Celtic, you had to make allowances for the fey folk, he supposed); some blues and instrumentals - BB King, Robert Cray, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Joe Satriani; some metal - Status Quo, AC/DC, Van Halen... it wasn't Charlie's selection, by any means, but it wasn't too bad. It could have been a lot worse - Spice Girls, for instance. Charlie had never knowingly shagged anyone who owned a Spice Girls album and he was perversely glad that he didn't have to make an exception for McManus.
"Put some music on if you want," Rory said as he headed out of the room. "I'm just going to change."
Charlie spent a few more minutes browsing through the CDs and eventually chose an old Enya album. The casing was dull and scratched, suggesting it was one of McManus's favourites, and he thought it would be a good choice. He sat down, enjoying the complex harmonies and multi-layered vocals.
Rory didn't come back down until a buzz on the intercom announced the arrival of the food. Charlie got up to answer it but Rory was already there, dressed now in a T-shirt and loose shorts. He paid off the delivery boy at the door and took the food into the kitchen, Charlie following a few paces behind.
They sat at the small table and ate the food with gusto. It wasn't until they had nearly finished that Charlie remembered why he was there, and that eating a curry wasn't the wisest thing to do if he was supposed to be going down on McManus. When he mentioned it, in a slightly apologetic voice, McManus wasn't too fussed.
"Och, it's no big deal," he said, trying to stifle a yawn. "I'm too tired for anything more than a quick fuck tonight, so it hardly matters."
Charlie gathered up the dishes and took them through to the kitchen. He threw the take-away containers into the bin and started to wash the plates.
"No, leave them," ordered McManus. "I'll throw them in the dishwasher tomorrow. Come upstairs."
There was no strip-tease tonight. Both of them undressed quickly, and Charlie climbed onto the bed while McManus got out lubricant and another condom from the bedside unit. Charlie saw that there was still some glitter on the sheets from when he had lain there on Friday night - it gave him an odd feeling to realise that he had left something of himself in the flat all weekend.
McManus motioned for Charlie to roll over onto his stomach, which he did, after locating the pillow he'd used before and placing it under his hips again. McManus frowned when he saw the bruises from Friday night and the new ones from Charlie's altercation with Liam, but said nothing.
It was a plain, no-nonsense fuck tonight, with no teasing or playing, though McManus still took care to make sure that Charlie was well-stretched and lubricated before he entered him. Once again Charlie felt that slow, forceful intrusion into his body. He wasn't as scared of it this time, and he welcomed the sensation of being filled and stretched, of being pulled and pushed as McManus moved in and out of his body. It didn't take long for McManus to come, and Charlie noted that he was almost silent - a soft grunt and intake of breath being the only audible indication of his climax.
McManus pulled out, disposed of the used condom and flopped down on the bed. "I needed that," he yawned, and close his eyes. Within seconds he was asleep.
Charlie pulled the pillow out from under his hips, rolled over onto his side and looked down at his still-straining erection. He felt disappointed and a little resentful that McManus hadn't brought him off, and had to tell himself yet again that he shouldn't expect too much from this... well, it wasn't a relationship, that was the whole problem. It was an arrangement, and only McManus had satisfaction guaranteed.
He tugged at his cock, wanting to bring himself off quickly but, at the same time, not wanting to wake the man lying only a few inches behind him. He tried to remember being with Richard, how good they'd been in bed together, but for the first time he found it difficult to picture Richard's face. He switched to his latest favourite fantasy - being Qui-Gon's devoted padawan - but soon found himself thinking of McManus instead, imagining that it was The Shark giving him that feral smile, going down on him, opening that sweet bow of a mouth and taking his cock deep, deep into his throat, stroking the underside with his tongue, touching him gently with his teeth, fondling his balls with those dainty hands, maybe even putting a finger inside him and... and he came in a rush, splattering not only his hands but his thighs and the bed sheets, too.
I am so fucked up, he told himself.
He made a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up, then got back into bed and tried to sleep. His mind was too active, though, churning over the events of the weekend, and he lay there for over an hour without feeling sleepy at all.
Eventually, he got out of bed and drifted over to the window, where he parted the curtains and looked out into the night. There wasn't much to see from this angle, just the grass and a footpath, but he opened the window and breathed in the night air, refreshingly cool after the heat of the day. He leaned against the window frame, wondering how he was going to get through the next few weeks without Liam giving him away, without his parents finding out, without -
He was startled by a touch on his shoulder and a voice asking, "What are you looking at?" McManus had come up behind him and he hadn't even heard.
Charlie shook his head, hoping that the man would leave him alone.
"Tell me," McManus whispered, and Charlie shivered as the man's breath stirred the hairs on his neck and shoulder.
"Just Liam..."
"What about Liam?"
Charlie closed his eyes as he explained. "Just brother stuff. He always teases me, you know. Ever since he found out I was gay, he keeps on making snide remarks about faggots and queers and stuff. Today he kept calling me a 'little slut' for sleeping with you. I mean - I know I am, sort of. I said it myself, I'd be your rent-boy for a month, but... but..."
"But he doesn’t have to rub your nose in it." McManus's voice was low and menacing.
"No. And it's his fault in the first place, you know, but he won't listen. He always gets away with things, it's so fucking unfair. All through lunch he kept looking at me with that stupid little smile on his face, like he knows something no one else knows, and I thought he was going to tell Mum and Dad, and I couldn't bear it. He knows I don't want my parents to know I'm gay - at least, not yet - and he-" He clenched his fists tightly, determined not to lose control in front of McManus, even if the man couldn't see his face. "I mean, I'm not stupid. I been around a bit, I know what goes on. You - you've actually been pretty decent about this so far. Just because I said it could be a lot worse, that you're not actually raping me every night, he tells me I'm a whore. That's got nothing to do with it!"
"Was that when he hit you?"
"Yeah.. well, I hit him first," Charlie confessed. "But he deserved it. I just couldn't stand him teasing me any more." He sighed. "He does it to me every time, you know - since we were kids. He just says things until I hit him and then he tells everyone I hit him first, so I'm the one who gets the punishment. It's just not fair!" And yeah, he sounded like a three-year-old, but so what. It wasn't fair.
Behind him, McManus put a hand on his shoulder. Charlie almost jumped at the sudden, unexpected warmth against his skin, but the touch was gentle, not threatening, and he relaxed almost immediately.
"Life's not fair, kid. Don't ever expect it to be." McManus turned away, saying, "Come back to bed. You need your sleep, lad, and I definitely need mine." He yawned. "I'll sort Liam out tomorrow."
"How?"
McManus didn't answer, just led him back to the bed and watched as Charlie lay down. For a moment, Charlie thought - hoped - he might get in right there with him and cuddle up, but after standing motionless for a few seconds, his expression unreadable in the dark, he turned away and went around to his own side of the bed.
Charlie lay quietly and listened as McManus got into bed, settled himself down and went to sleep. Something had changed. He still didn't understand exactly what had happened, or why, but the fact that McManus had told him he'd sort Liam out was oddly comforting - it wasn't often that anyone took his side against his older brother. And that hand on his shoulder... it hadn't been a hug or anything, but it was the most gentle touch he'd had from McManus yet. Could it be that the man liked him after all? He closed his eyes and tried to remember how it had felt, just in case it never happened again, and fell asleep at last.