Wednesday 18 August 1999, 11am
Charlie paced around the kitchen, absent-mindedly gnawing at a hang-nail, while the sound of the cleaning lady doing the vacuuming came through from the living-room. She'd startled him, opening the door with her key and stepping in as if she owned the place – he'd demanded to know who she was and what she was doing, and had raced up to check with Rory before finally allowing her to start work. And now she was going through all the rooms, tidying and cleaning and getting in the way... or, rather, making it perfectly clear that Charlie was the one who was in her way.
To make things worse, he had a tune running through his head and he really wanted to work on it and write it down. With no guitar or piano, though, there was little chance of doing that, and he was getting more and more frustrated by the minute. It was a good tune, too - a lilting melody and a complex set of harmonies that he would change slightly for each verse. He growled to himself. If he didn't start setting it down soon, he'd lose it, and he hated losing songs, especially ones as good as this one.
He sighed and wondered if he'd be able to talk Rory into letting him have his guitar back. He'd never asked what Rory had done with the things he'd taken from the house. He'd always been afraid that they'd been sold - which was probably true - but he'd harboured a secret fantasy that Rory might have simply put them away with a view to returning them at the end of the month.
Yeah, right.
Coming back to reality, he wondered if he'd be able to go for a walk that afternoon - he hadn't had any exercise at all in the last few days, and he was getting very restless. He could probably leave Rory for a couple of hours without too much problem, since he was getting better now. He wondered if he should ask Rory's permission or just tell him he was going for a walk. Rory hadn't actually said he wasn't to leave, but he certainly expected Charlie to be available whenever he called. Then there was the fact that Charlie didn't have a door key. He sighed. He'd have to ask.
The cleaning lady left at midday, leaving the place spick and span, and Charlie went up to see what Rory wanted for lunch. To his surprise, Rory announced his intention of coming downstairs for lunch, and Charlie had no option but to agree. He helped Rory to put on a loose shirt and a pair of sweat pants and shadowed him as he descended the staircase slowly, leading with his right leg.
Rory sat in the kitchen while Charlie whipped up a quick lunch - an omelette with bacon and cheese, and several slices of toast – and then afterwards settled himself down on the sofa with a pot of tea in front of him and a book in his hand.
Charlie decided that it was now or never. "Rory?" he ventured.
"Hmm?"
"Would you mind if I go out for an hour or so? I need some exercise."
Rory looked up from his book. "No, that's OK. I doubt I'll need you for a while."
"Would I be able to borrow the door key?"
"There's the set in the drawer in the hall table. Don't lose it - it's my only spare."
"I won't." He grinned. That had been a little easier than he had expected - easy enough, in fact, that he felt annoyed with himself for not asking sooner. He raced up and changed into something a little lighter than jeans.
It was another lovely day outside, and Charlie was soon running along the path towards the shopping village. It felt good to stretch out, to feel his heart pumping and his muscles working. There weren't all that many people outdoors and he was able to let his mind wander as his legs fell into an easy stride.
He didn't make many turnings - he didn't know the area very well, after all - but managed to complete a circuit around the Whitefield area, noting how many of the old buildings were being replaced, new shops appearing in place of boarded-up derelicts, new houses and flats going up here and there.
He returned to the flat nearly an hour later, feeling exhausted but mentally refreshed. He poked his head through the door into the lounge.
"I'm home," he said, and then mentally kicked himself. He wasn't home - this wasn't his home, it never would be. He should have just said he was back, but it was too late now, and he wasn’t going to make himself look even more stupid by saying anything else.
Rory was still sitting on the sofa, but at Charlie's greeting he looked up and smiled. Charlie smiled back automatically, and his heart did a flip-flop in his chest. He caught his breath, but told himself it was just the after-effect of exercise.
He wasn't in love with Rory McManus. He kept telling himself that. The man just had a sweet smile, that was all. It didn't mean a thing.
Really.
* * *
Charlie realised that his temporary ascendancy was over that evening, when he heard Rory telling Chris to pick him up at nine the following day.
He sighed as he picked up the tea tray and took it downstairs, leaving them in peace. It wasn't that he didn't want Rory to get well, or that he wanted the pain to continue, but he had enjoyed being in charge for a while. He'd also been grateful for the reprieve from his rent-boy status - though swapping it for playing nursemaid wasn't quite what he'd been hoping for. He'd liked having Rory depend on him for all the little things that people normally took for granted - showering, eating, dressing. He'd enjoyed the relative freedom that Rory's incapacity gave him, and he'd ventured on a few petty defiances that that he hoped Rory wouldn't remember too harshly. Still, he hadn't taken out any of his own grievances on Rory. He hadn't hurt him, or denied him painkillers, or "forgotten" anything that Rory really needed. Taking out his frustrations on a fit and healthy Rory was one thing; taking them out on a broken and beaten Rory was quite another.
He was worried, as well, that Rory was trying to do too much too soon. Pottering around the flat, with a couple of naps here and there, was a far cry from going into the office and dealing with phones and emails and defaulting debtors, and he had a feeling that Rory was going to be exhausted and bad-tempered when he got back, which meant that Charlie would take the blame for everything that that had gone wrong. That was not a pleasant prospect.
He managed to catch Chris on his way out, and voiced his concerns. "I don't think he's going to be fit enough to go back to work tomorrow."
"I know," said Chris, surprising Charlie with his agreement. "But it's his decision."
"I know that," echoed Charlie. "But he'll just make things worse - he'll fall, or hit a bruise, or just exhaust himself."
"He's the boss, Charlie. Don't fight it."
Charlie sighed. "I won't. I just wish he'd see sense, that's all."
Chris gave him a surprisingly sympathetic smile and headed off, closing the door gently behind him.
Charlie stood by the door, thinking, until he heard Rory trying to call him, and went up to see what he wanted.
Thursday 19th August, 8:30 am
Charlie helped Rory to get dressed - it was still difficult to put on shirt and jacket, but they managed it, after Charlie apologised for suggesting that Rory should abandon the jacket for once. Rory had a bit of a rest and some more painkillers before Chris turned up, and then he was away.
Charlie watched the car move off down the driveway and thought about what to do. Rory had told him to stay put, and Charlie wasn't about to test Rory's temper, especially not when he was likely to come back tired and fractious. That meant he couldn't risk going back to the house, or to his parents' place.
He looked around. There wasn't much that needed doing in the flat after the cleaning lady had been the day before; only a few dishes and a bit of tidying to do. He thought that Rory would appreciate some clean sheets on the bed when he got back, so he changed the sheets again and put the dirty ones in the washing machine. That more-or-less exhausted the domestic chores and he sat down in the lounge and simply enjoyed the peace and quiet.
It was quiet here. There wasn't even much traffic noise, and it was strangely peaceful just to sit and do nothing for a few minutes. It was the first time he'd been able to relax properly for five days, the first time he hadn't had to keep an ear listening for Rory's voice, and he was going to take advantage of it - after he'd had a little rest on the sofa. Yes, just a little rest...
He didn't realise how tired he' been until he woke up when the door opened. He glanced at his watch in confusion - surely they had only just left? - and found that it was past one o'clock. He scrambled up, rubbing his eyes blearily, and making a mental note that the sofa was not terribly comfortable to sleep on. He ventured out into the hall and found Chris helping Rory to get up the stairs.
"Oh, hi," he greeted them. "I didn't think you'd be back so early."
Rory didn't answer, and Charlie saw that he was fighting to stay upright. Well, it was no more than he'd expected. He moved to Rory's side and slung an arm around his hips to help support his weight. With Chris on one side and Charlie on the other, Rory was manoeuvred up the stairs and into the bedroom. They'd made the same trip five days previously, but this time Rory wasn't quite so bad, and they were able to move a little more quickly.
Once in the bedroom Charlie was able to get Rory undressed, into his pyjamas and lying down on the fresh, clean sheets in just a few minutes. Chris had brought up a jug of water and the ice packs, and Charlie forced some more tablets into their patient. Rory managed to summon up the energy to mutter his thanks before falling into another exhausted sleep.
Chris and Charlie headed down to the kitchen.
"Thanks for bringing him back."
Chris nodded his acknowledgment, and Charlie continued, "Did he say he wanted to go back tomorrow?"
"No, he didn't say anything about it."
"I hope he doesn't. He needs more rest."
"He's the boss, kid. He'll decide."
"I know, but... I just don't want him to exhaust himself and not get better." He bit his lip as he tried to sort out various possibilities. "Maybe I should just assume he's not going in tomorrow, and then he can call you if he wants you to pick him up."
"Aye, lad. You do that." Chris turned to go. "Is there anything you need?"
"More painkillers. I think that's all."
"Do you need them today?"
Charlie visualised the packet in his mind. "No - there are three or four doses left, so that would see him through to tomorrow, but he'll probably run out by lunchtime." He smiled weakly. "At least if he takes his tablets he'll get a bit of sleep, and I can relax then. It's when he thinks he can do without them he gets into trouble."
"You're managing."
"Yeah, well, not much else to do anyway."
"I'll drop in during the morning then."
Charlie smiled at him. "That would be great. Thanks."
"No problem, kid."
Charlie let him out and then went up the stairs to check on Rory. The man was already asleep, his face in repose looking young and fragile and vulnerable, and Charlie wished that he could do something to help him get better faster. He leaned over the supine form, making minute adjustments to the bedclothes, trying to ensure that there was no pressure on the worst of the bruises. It was no more than any nurse would have done, he told himself. Nothing more than that.
He was getting very good at this denial thing.
* * *
It wasn't until they were watching the news that evening that Charlie remembered Tessa's results. He wondered how she'd done, then why Liam hadn’t called him. Guiltily, he remembered that he'd switched the mobile phone off on Monday, in the belief that he didn't need it on while he was with Rory. For all he knew, Liam might have been trying to ring him all day.
He got up off the bed and strode over to his backpack, rummaging through the contents until he found it.. After switching it on and keying in his PIN, he waited anxiously for a few seconds for the connection, but there were no missed calls or messages. Liam hadn't called him at all.
"Bastard," he muttered under his breath.
"What is it?" asked Rory, diverting his attention from the TV.
"Tess's A-level results came out today. Liam was going to pick them up and let everyone know how she went."
"I take he didn't ring."
"No. Could I use the phone for a minute? I'll see if he's at home."
Rory nodded, but as Charlie went to leave the room, he called out, "Where're you going?"
Charlie halted. "Just downstairs. I was going to use the extension in the living room so I didn’t disturb you."
Rory nodded to the phone beside the bed. "Use that one. There's nothing worth watching anyway." He took the remote and muted the TV sound.
Charlie walked to the beside table and picked up the handset a little self-consciously. He was quite sure he wanted to be discussing things in front of Rory, but he could hardly disobey him, especially after he had made a point of turning the TV down.
He dialled the number to the flat and listened to the ringtone. It seemed to go on forever, but, eventually, he heard the ringing stop and a slurred voice said "Yeah, who is it?"
"HI Ben, it's Charlie."
"Hi Charlie. How are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks. Look, is Liam there?"
"No, man, haven’t seen him."
"Damn. Do you know if he's gone to Mum and Dad's?"
"No, sorry. Hey, Charlie..."
"What?"
"Hey."
Charlie sighed. He obviously wasn't going to get much sense out of Ben tonight. In fact, he'd be lucky if Ben even remembered the call in the morning.
"Ben, just tell Liam to ring me, OK?"
"Tell Liam to ring me. Got it."
"No - tell him to ring Charlie."
"Ring Charlie."
"That's right. Tell Liam to ring Charlie."
"OK, man."
"Bye now."
"Bye."
He put the phone down, but didn't move away.
"Not home?" asked Rory.
"No," said Charlie, with a frown on his face, "and Ben doesn't know where he is. I'll have to try and ring him at work tomorrow." He sighed. "I hope he remembered. Tess almost refused to go to Ireland this year, she was so anxious about the results."
"Is she likely to fail?"
Charlie shook his head. "She's pretty bright. But she wants to do nursing in London - the Florence Nightingale school at King's College. It's really tough to get in, and she needs a grant as well. Mum and Dad can't afford to support her in London, and she won't have time for a job, so if she doesn't get the grant she'll have to go to college here and stay on at home." He sighed. "If the band were a success we could help her out."
"You can't do everything, kid. If she's bright, she'll manage."
"I guess so." Charlie didn't really sound convinced.
Rory fiddled with the remote control until he found another news programme and turned the volume up.
Friday 20 August
"First Manchester Real Estate, Liam speaking. How may I help you?" The voice was polite, cultured and professional. Charlie had difficulty in recognising it, but as far as he knew his brother was the only Liam working there.
"Liam? It's Charlie."
"Oh." The bright professional interest disappeared. "What do you want?"
"How did Tess do in her A-levels?"
"Really well - one A and three Bs."
"Hey, that's fantastic! Was she pleased?"
"Yep. She's keeping her fingers crossed about the place though - she won't know for a few days yet."
"Yeah, I guess so. How are they doing over there?"
"The usual, from what I gather. It's cold, it's raining, and Mum and Auntie Bridie are arguing like crazy."
Charlie grinned. "Sounds normal. I'm so glad I don't have to do that any more."
"Me too." They shared a moment of less-than-fond remembrance of holidays past. "Charlie?"
"What?"
"Are you OK? I mean... is this thing getting to you? Because if it is, I may be able to do something."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Mrs Doherty, the office manager, she's gone off sick, and the all the senior reps are away, so I'm the only one here. If things are getting too much for you I could maybe borrow the money from the office, pay off McManus and then we'd have a chance at getting back on our feet."
Charlie was taken aback. On the one hand, it was the nicest thing Liam had said to him in weeks, and he knew that Liam was genuinely concerned about him. On the other... well, to be perfectly honest, he didn't really want the month to end early. Sure, Rory had been a complete prick for a couple of days, but then he'd been in a lot of pain, and that would make anyone bad-tempered. But yesterday had been great, and even today had been OK, once Rory had got over his disappointment at having to come home early. It wouldn't be long before Rory was up for fucking him again, and he found himself actually looking forward to that.
Gods, I must be sick, he thought to himself.
"Thanks," he managed to stammer at last. "Thanks, Liam, but to be truthful, it's not so bad. There's only another ten days to go anyway, and we did agree to a month. I'm not sure he'd allow any change in the agreement, even if we did come up with the money."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, yes I'm sure. But thanks for offering, bro', I appreciate it."
"No problem. I'll see you sometime."
"Yeah. Bye."
Charlie put the phone down and stood there for a couple of minutes. Something Liam had said... no, it had gone. He went back to making lunch, putting his vague unease to the back of his mind.
It wasn't until later that afternoon that he realised what had been troubling him - the "borrowing" that Liam had suggested so calmly was actually criminal embezzlement.
Thank God he'd turned it down.
* * *
They'd moved the TV back downstairs that afternoon, he and Chris, so now Charlie was watching the cricket highlights while Rory caught up with some accounts that Chris had brought with him. The game wasn't terribly exciting, but Charlie didn't mind. He was just glad he was here, and not stuck with Liam for the weekend.
Sighing, Rory put his pen down and shuffled the papers together, then pushed his chair back from the desk and stretched, wincing a little as his ribs caught. He walked behind the sofa, ruffled Charlie's hair and continued to the door.
"Come on, lad," he said, yawning. "Time for bed."
Charlie raised an eyebrow - it was only eight in the evening after all, and the sun hadn’t even set yet - but he thumbed the remote control and threw it down on the coffee table. He followed Rory up the stairs and into the bedroom, but hesitated. He wasn't quite sure what Rory wanted - well, besides the obvious - and he waited for instructions.
Rory looked over at him. "What are you waiting for?"
Charlie shrugged, as gracefully as he could. "Not sure what you want me to do. Strip and lie down? Back rub? Shower?"
Rory frowned as he unbuttoned his shirt. He grimaced as he took it off, but otherwise he was much improved. "I want to fuck you, so yeah, strip and lie down."
Charlie complied, placing a pillow under his hips and making himself comfortable as Rory reached into the drawer for the lubricant and a condom. He spread his legs and twisted around to watch Rory kneeling a little awkwardly on the bed. It was clear to Charlie, at least, that Rory wasn't quite as recovered as he was pretending.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked. "I could suck you off, if you like. Or wank you. You don't have to fuck me."
"I'm going to fuck you. Now turn around and shut up." He placed a dollop of lube in his fingers and breached Charlie quickly.
Charlie jumped at the cold and the intrusion. He took a couple of deep breaths, forcing himself to relax, and felt the familiar burn and stretch as Rory's fingers scissored inside him. It had been over a week since he'd had anything inside him, and he was glad that Rory was generous with the lube. He bit into his lip and squirmed as a third and fourth finger entered him. He warmed up quickly, and suddenly was eager for Rory to push inside him, to fill him and cover him and come inside him.
He felt Rory adjust his position on the bed, and heard the hitched breath as Rory tried to support his own weight on his arm as he moved into position. He felt the bed start to shake, and then a violent movement and a loud curse as Rory had to pull back.
"Fucking bloody hell!"
Charlie immediately twisted his head around. He could see that Rory was sitting back on his heels, his face contorted with pain and his hand clutching his left side. Charlie scrambled up and turned around so that he was kneeling in front of Rory.
"It's only been a week," he said, trying to sound calm as he gently palpated Rory's ribs, wondering if the man had done any serious damage to himself. "You can't expect to support your weight yet."
Rory snarled and pushed Charlie's hand away. "Shut up and roll over. I'll do this."
"No."
It wasn't often that Charlie refused an order, and Rory's eyebrows rose. "What did you say?" he hissed, his voice redolent with menace.
"Look, you can't do it this way - your arms and ribs just aren't up to it yet. Let me suck you off. You know how good I am at that."
"I said I was going to fuck you and that what's I'm bloody well going to do." The strain in his voice, however, was clearly audible, and Charlie snorted in exasperation. He had to stop Rory from injuring himself, the stubborn git, or there'd be hell to pay from Chris in the morning.
"Fine. You can fuck me - just not like this." He frantically ran through all the positions he knew, trying to think of one that would be suitable for Rory and not aggravate his injuries. Ah, yes, there was that one... "Look, you're OK on your back, so how about you just lie down and I'll ride you, eh? You still get to fuck me, but I do all the work."
Rory looked doubtful, but Charlie pushed him gently down onto the mattress.
"Trust me," he cajoled. "This'll be fantastic." He straightened out Rory's legs and knelt astride him. He took hold of Rory's cock and pulled it slowly a few times, watching it revive, watching Rory's breathing become a little more rapid, though not, he thought, painful. He inched his way up until he was positioned slightly forward of Rory's hips, then reached behind him. Leaning forward, he placed Rory's cock at his entrance, then moved very slowly back and down, impaling himself on the now-rigid erection.
He couldn't help letting out a slow hiss of breath as he was stretched and filled - oh, it felt so bloody good, so unbelievably good. His eyes met Rory's, and he realised that he was going to be able to watch Rory come. That thought made his own cock twitch in anticipation.
He eased himself up a little, then down, gradually taking in more and more inside until he was resting on Rory's hips. He straightened up and moved again, smiling as the change in position brought his prostate into contact with the thick shaft inside him. He gave Rory a wild, feral grin.
Rory's face betrayed his complete and utter surprise, and Charlie guessed that he hadn't been in this position before.
"Told you," he whispered, and started to rock his hips.
There was something amazing about this - being fucked but being in control. He hadn't done it this way in over a year, and he'd forgotten just how brilliant it could be. He pulled at his dick - more to stop it bouncing around than anything else, since he certainly didn’t need the additional stimulation when he had Rory's face to watch - and let himself move up and down the length, groaning as it rubbed his prostate. Bloody brilliant.
It was only a couple of minutes later than Rory's ragged breathing and glazed eyes warned Charlie that he was getting close to his climax. Charlie increased the pace, ignoring the fatigue in his thighs, spurred on by the incredible, ecstatic, transported look on Rory's face. Suddenly, Rory's eyes rolled up and his body arched, and Charlie felt him straining to be even deeper inside. He wished, briefly, that they were fucking without a condom so that he could feel the hot fluid hitting him inside, but had no time to consider it in more detail as his stomach flipped and his heart stopped and his own climax had him spilling all over Rory's chest and stomach.
His thighs collapsed and he leaned forward. He was only inches away when Rory opened his eyes, and they looked at each other wordlessly. Charlie wanted to lean in a little closer and kiss Rory. He really, really wanted to do that, but he couldn't - kissing Rory would be unforgivably stupid. Instead, he pulled back very slowly then eased himself off the now-limp cock, taking care to stop the condom coming off as he moved.
A tissue and a few seconds later and they were both a little cleaner. Rory hadn't moved since his orgasm, and Charlie wondered if he'd done something wrong. His breathing was all right though - a little rapid, but even and deep, so the unaccustomed activity hadn't done any damage. On the other hand, he might have just fucked Rory's brains out. He liked that thought.
He hurried into the bathroom to clean himself up, hoping that Rory hadn't got a glimpse of the smirk that threatened to break out onto his face.