Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was just a small peck, something he'd observed before on occasion and never gave it a second thought until now...the seemingly cordial, benign kiss quickly transformed into something else entirely. Steve felt oddly frozen, unable to look away, a slight shiver running up his spine in exhilaration at the thought of witnessing something that should have occurred in private, perhaps. He was intrigued to say the least.

Simon's arm wrapped tightly around Robert's waist, drawing him close for only a moment, but that moment certainly seemed like a significant one; their eyes meeting for a few quick seconds as if they knew what the other was thinking, and then another kiss, this time on the side of Robert's face causing him to look down and grin meekly and then pull away, as if he suddenly became aware of their surroundings.

Steve took a gulp of his gin and tonic, continuing to eye them as he rummaged back through his memory trying to place where he'd seen such pronounced affection between the two of them—particularly between Robert and any man, for that matter—but he couldn't recall.

Maybe it was simply because whenever Robert and Steve were together it was usually in a studio, and the attitude was always a let's get down to business attitude more than anything else; they were always fully immersed in making music, and taking drugs of course. Many times, it wasn't out of the question that they would do both simultaneously, resulting in marathon bouts of a creative delirium in the studio, and then back at Steve's flat. Even on tour with the Banshees amidst all the debauchery that was to be had, Steve noticed nothing out of the ordinary as far as Robert's sexuality was concerned. In fact, he seemed rather boring in that respect, rarely hooking up with groupies or hangers on, which was par for the course in their line of business.

Strangely enough, Robert would even ring his girlfriend at the end of some very late nights or early mornings when they still hadn't yet gone to sleep, the sun peeking through the blinds as Robert settled on his bed, quietly prattling on, so wasted and exhausted that Steve wasn't fully convinced there was actually someone else on the other end of the line who was insane enough to listen to such nonsensical babblings, until eventually his voice finally drifted off in mid-sentence, leaving Steve the duty of slipping the receiver from his hand and hanging up.

He shifted on his feet, took another sip of his drink and cocked an eyebrow, more to himself as he continued to ruminate, carefully weighing the memory of something he thought he saw a few years back and up until now, never thought twice about...

Blokes didn't go into the toilet together, did they? Well, perhaps they did, if it was to take drugs without arousing suspicion or, to be honest, just not wanting to share. That was understandable, and it was something Steve had been guilty of with Robert as well as with other men. But now, thinking back to one occurrence some years ago, he could have kicked himself for not realizing just what went on between Robert and his dearest, most trusted, loyal bass player.

Both men had entered and then finally emerged from that cramped, dark lavatory with one of them leaving purposely well before the other. Simon opened the door and stepped out a bit winded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and then Robert exited a few minutes later appearing sweaty and dizzy and considerably disheveled—his hair even more of a disaster, yet in a different way; his usual fluffy, backcombed coiffure looked considerably wilted. And the top handful of buttons on his extremely oversized shirt were undone which was something that Steve had never witnessed. Even in their shared hotel rooms, Robert would always dress out of eyesight, and would typically undress under the covers just before going to sleep with that same modesty practiced even when he was on the verge of passing out—simply collapsing on top of his unmade bed fully clothed...

In hindsight, it was Robert's hand coming up to gently rub part of his exposed, pale shoulder that had now caused Steve's cogs to turn; remembering a small purplish bruise just below his collarbone, watching as Robert kept his hand over it for a bit, almost as if he wanted to hide it, and then Robert and Simon's eyes met briefly—much like they did tonight at the bar—seeming to flutter, a longing in their glances as if they were speaking some sort of secret language. A lover's language, he was certain of it.

Steve grinned to himself and nearly laughed before downing the rest of his drink. He was amused and most pleasantly surprised about this new discovery. Quite frankly, he never thought the man had it in him. It wasn't that Robert was a prude, he certainly was not, but from what Steve had seen he just seemed so very...vanilla when it came to anything sexual in general. Then again, Robert tended to be a rather private person, and from what Steve experienced in terms of his friend, still waters most certainly do run deep. This was definitely a potentially delicious and dizzying facet about Robert that, until now, had been unplumbed. And it was Steve himself who would be just the man to get to the bottom of this rather captivating sexual conundrum.

He placed his empty glass down on the counter and adjusted his shirt—a pause before he headed towards them, but no...suddenly he'd lost sight of them. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on Robert's head of unique dark hair at the other end of the bar where he waited for another drink.

"Robert?!" Steve asked as he approached, feigning surprise, yet he had to admit to himself that seeing him here at The Batcave with someone else, with Simon of all people, had initially stunned him...but only for a moment.

Robert's gaze popped up, "Oh...! Hello Steve."

Steve laughed to himself, pleased at how he seemed to catch him off guard, and how formal Robert could be sometimes, not to mention how his eyes seemed to shine in the dim, smoky light. It was nothing less than charming, very charming indeed.

"So..." Steve turned, scanning the room for a similarly explosive hairstyle, "Where's Simon?"

He was used to these two always being within earshot of each other, as if an invisible cord had tied them together, so it wasn't outlandish to still ask that question; to be honest, everyone did. Steve saw very little of Robert these days, especially after he so abruptly left the Banshees, but now it was obvious what or who had been taking up most of his time—his fetching boyfriend of course.

"Um," A quick flick of Robert's eyes towards Simon and then back at Steve, a faint blush beginning to rise in those full cheeks, "He's uhh–"

Steve's eyes followed Robert's and spotted Simon who made it over to the other side of the bar, squeezing in between the crowd to order another round.

"Oh, right...! There he is." Voice a bit too bright, and then quickly lowering to a mumble barely audible above the din, yet hoping Robert would still be able to hear him, "Knew your sweetheart wouldn't wander off too far..."

It was the way that Robert cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably on his feet without denying Steve's term of endearment directed towards his dear friend that spoke volumes; he most certainly heard him.

It had been mere seconds before Simon literally scurried back over to Robert's side once again, swooping in with a possessiveness that Steve immediately noticed, eyes narrowing as soon as he saw him, standing in a stubborn silence with what appeared to be two screwdrivers in hand: one of them surely Robert's.

"Hi, Simon..." Steve grinned, "Looks like your boyfr-Er, Robert already has his drink." He reached out and grabbed onto one of the glasses that Simon was holding, "D'you mind...? Ta."

Simon looked down and reluctantly released the glass as Steve plucked it from his grip, "Yeah, sure." He reached in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes with a free hand while keeping his gaze glued to the floor.

"Got some gear." Steve's stare fell entirely on Robert, "Care to join me?"

Both Robert and Simon's eyes instantly flashed to each other's, and Robert's resulting sly grin was a very good sign.

"Where should–?" Robert started.

"Uh, we-um... We-we were just leaving." Simon stuttered.

"Oh?" Steve smiled and raised his eyebrows before inviting himself, knowing that if he pushed hard enough, Robert's resolve would fold, "Where to then?"

Simon didn't answer, instead he looked intensely at Robert, his jaw visibly hardening as Steve continued to observe, and it was just as he thought—a desperate attempt to flee on Simon's part, and a poorly orchestrated one at that.

"Ah, well..." Robert threw a sideways glance at Simon, "We've got a few minutes, don't we?"

"Splendid..." Steve concluded, "Shall we?"

Well, this couldn't have gone any smoother; apparently it didn't take much to coax Robert into an evening of illicit drug use, and it would hopefully be just as easy to coax him into doing some deliciously hedonistic things a bit later.

At first, it was suggested that they imbibe in the toilets, but Steve wanted no parts of that. He wanted to at least show some class, so he countered with another familiar destination—a place where he and Robert had spent many wild nights out of their heads—and was pleasantly surprised when they both agreed to go to back to Steve's flat, though this time Simon's continued presence wasn't something that Steve was intending. He wanted Robert all to himself. Still, it was fascinating to watch the way he followed alongside Robert, almost unconditionally like a puppy obeying his master, and that filled Steve with a curiosity...and a scheme of sorts, churned in his mind...

***   ***   ***

Steve tossed what was left of the bag of cocaine on the glass table in front of them. They had been partaking of that, some pot from Robert's small stash, and many more cocktails from Steve's well stocked bar for quite a while and were now sufficiently wasted.

Robert sat forward on the sofa, "Si," He slurred, "Where's the...?" He stopped for a moment, as if the wires got crossed in his brain, "I-" He giggled, gradually sinking back into the ample sofa cushions again.

Steve continued to busy himself with cutting lines on the coffee table and then sat back on his knees, waiting...curious to see if the loyal puppy would be the one to finally tend to his master, and sure enough, there was a rustling behind him. The thin figure dressed in black came along side of Robert to whisper in his ear and he noticed that both of their eyes closed, with Robert turning his head slightly into Simon's mouth as he spoke, and Steve grinned. How right he had been about the two of them... Simon quickly disappeared into the kitchen as Steve sniffed a line, and then sat back on the sofa, turning to watch as Robert leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"So..." Steve's voice was nearly a whisper, and he inched closer, "Does your darling girl always bring you your drinks?"

"Ha-ha..." Robert laughed a bit, then licked his lips, hesitating as he actually had to think of how to answer that coherently, "No...well, not-no... Not really. No."

"Hmm," Steve hummed, his mouth so close to Robert's ear he could feel his warmth. They were so close that if he dared to move forward just a few inches he could kiss his cheek, even better, could swipe his tongue against that inviting mouth. And when Robert turned his head ever so slowly, ever so slightly, his eyes dark and heavy, Steve thought that just maybe he felt the same curiosity.

Robert cleared his throat as if he was ending the spell, and then leaned forward to reach for the straw on the table, but Steve grabbed his hand to stop him. Robert hesitated then and looked down shyly, and Steve could have sworn he felt that warm hand open a bit, yielding to his grip.

"Hey..." Steve said quietly, his head buzzing from the possibility, just the very thought, "Give me a kiss."

He simply stared at him then, his expression one of confusion as they both still sat so close together, and when Steve felt the softness of his hand, the near caress of Robert's fingers against his palm, it was a subtle, wordless admission...and with Steve being the opportunist that he was, he immediately acted upon it.

He tilted his head a mere fraction to meet Robert's lips, and it was better than he thought it would be—so moist and soft, and most of all, Robert seemed willing to go along with this, eventually kissing him back softly, but there was something not quite right about it, subdued even. He was being cautious, and as Steve's head floated back down from out of the clouds just after he pulled away to eye that almost dreamy blue gaze, he finally remembered that they weren't alone.

"Uh..." A quiet voice had materialized from behind. It was Simon standing over them now, and Robert seemed to bristle, "Um, he-here's your drink, Robert."

There wasn't a sound from any of them at first, just the droning on from the television in the background—one of Steve's carefully picked horror movies, remembering how much Robert enjoyed it some years before—and then the VCR suddenly clicked as it reached the end, rewinding in the machine.

It was as if they were frozen in time, with Simon still standing over Robert, the drink still in front of his face, the condensation from the ice beginning to cloud and wet the outside of the glass. Steve looked up at Simon and then back at Robert, eager to turn off the television, but not wanting to miss a second of what he thought would only be a fascinating and most telling exchange.

"Well, c'mon." Simon huffed, his impatience clearly obvious, "Take the bloody thing." And he pushed it closer to Robert's face.

"Oh, right." Robert mumbled, his voice small and tense—he was caught red-handed doing something he shouldn't have been doing, according to his somewhat annoyed boyfriend, and Steve couldn't have been more pleased.

"What about my drink Simon...my dear?" Steve asked, meaning to simply tease, however, the term of endearment was exaggerated a bit more arrogantly then intended. He simply couldn't help it; he never appreciated being interrupted...plus, working his way into the middle of these two was proving to be too much fun.

"Huh?!" Simon asked, his distracted expression one of irritation and confusion.

Robert finally latched onto the glass and took it, guzzling it for a moment, until the contents began to drip down his chin.

"Oh, never mind, sweetheart." Steve dismissed, and then grinned, patting the beige cushions between himself and Robert, "Come and sit here...with us, won't you?"

Simon's posture bolted immediately upright at that invitation, and he pulled at the collar of his shirt, adjusting himself.

"I-uh... No. Let's go, Robert."

Though that order was in no way directed at him, Steve was instantly a bit surprised. He looked straight over at Robert who plainly sat there, sipping his drink, oblivious to what was going on.

This was most odd, indeed.

"Well," Steve shifted and dropped his hands on his thighs, "I really think-"

"I don't care what the fuck you think!" Simon barked, then grabbed Robert's arm, his drink sloshing onto the sofa, "Get the fuck up, Robert!"

"Simon!" Robert yelled, seeming to snap out of it, "What the fuck! Stop it!" He wrenched away from his grip, finally hurling his drink out ahead of them, most likely meaning to hit the wall but the glass landed on the carpet still intact, thank goodness. As much as Steve enjoyed witnessing one of Robert's hissy fits, rare as they were, the thought of cleaning up broken glass right then was not something he was in the mood for.

Though it seemed as if Robert had taken back control, these two were proving to be more unpredictable than he'd ever thought. He had no idea what to expect now.

"Fuck..." Simon's voice was tremulous and cracked, almost sounded hurt as he strode to the door, "Fine. Fuck this. I'm fucking going."

"No, Simon." Robert's voice was strangely calm. He stood and unsteadily shuffled towards him, slamming the door shut just as Simon opened it, "You can't." He breathed, "Not again."

"What?" He looked down and sighed wearily, "Why do you-?"

"Shh..." Robert shook his head slowly, his manner changing in a matter of seconds, his smile small, tender even. Steve was enthralled, "Kiss me. Please."

But Simon didn't. He just stood there and folded his arms, closing himself off. Robert instantly reached out to take his left hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his palm, so Steve thought, and that plump, wet tongue slithered out to lick it instead...and when Simon closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, Steve sat up, breath caught in his throat, clearly noticing the effect of Robert's  suggestive action and how it seemed to make the thin figure clad in leather trousers and vest, weak in the knees.

Robert moved forward and tilted his head, those lips immediately finding Simon's to place a small kiss there, and it was as if he knew just where, just how...and that familiarity was invigorating to Steve; such a beautiful sight to see.

A wide smile of triumph spread across Robert's face when he pulled away, seeming so satisfied with the way things were going so far, as was Steve; realizing that his plan to get these two in bed...hopefully with him in it as well, was materializing quicker than he thought, and that was simply mind-blowing. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. But for now, he was willing to let them spar with each other, truly enjoying what seemed to be a fierce possessiveness coming from Simon, and an unexpected turn in regard to Robert's usual behavior, perhaps giving a glimpse into what really made him tick, so why not push this deliciously feral tension a bit further?

Steve never had a problem with being the instigator and was no stranger to successfully coercing others into a bit of unconventional depravity. It certainly made life more exciting. And just as he began to conjure up the many delightful possibilities he had in mind, Robert's glare began to smolder, his grin turning elfin, and right then Steve knew there would be no need to coerce anyone into anything. There was no doubt that Robert had his handsome little friend hooked, and he kissed him again, a coaxing, girlish sound escaping as his hand came up to Simon's shoulder and then vanished, snaking around his neck to pull him in further. The neediness, the exaggerated wet sounds, so utterly intoxicating...but they quickly shifted and then turned. The angle at which they were standing and Robert's mass of hair, blocked out much of what was happening.

A soft, muffled groan exited as Robert's head thumped against the door—most likely due to Simon pulling him back by the hair, Steve pleasantly ventured to guess.

"Shit!" Simon suddenly growled and pushed him away.

"Please." It was a throaty whisper of a familiar phrase that Steve heard Robert utter a few times in the past out of desperation, but never like this, "I beg of you... Don't go." It truly was a beautiful sound, and Robert's hand trailed down the front of Simon's shirt, fingers skimming his belly, then slowly moving lower, "I need you." He finally breathed, hand ever so lightly brushing past his partial erection.

Simon lingered, his dark, glassy eyes glaring back into Robert's just as he forced his hand down onto his groin and kissed him fiercely, backing Robert up against the door once again. Steve was astounded at the fact that he was witnessing both of them so caught up with each other that they were completely oblivious to the world around them. It was dizzying and so very hot, and Steve was now totally eager to join in.

He stood and took a long guzzle from his drink, placed it back down on the table and then took a deep breath. He approached them slowly, cautiously...no longer even able to see Robert as Simon completely overpowered him, holding him captive up against the door, grinding his hips into him with Robert's resulting moans suppressed by Simon's mouth over his. At this point, Steve couldn't tell what he was seeing, yet he was captivated.

"Hey," Steve's whisper was shaking. Surprisingly, his desperation was showing, but no—it was much too soon to be excited, and he cleared his throat to regain his composure, wrapping his hand around Simon's arm in an attempt to move him just a bit, to let poor Robert up for some air, "Simon, it's not polite to kee-?"

"N-get the fuck off!" Simon barked, wrenching his arm out of Steve's grip but not before knocking Robert against the door again hard.

"Fuck!" Robert whimpered in shock, shrinking back limply.

"And you!" Simon yelled as he turned to face him, so close that Steve could feel a spray of saliva, "You can just shut the fuck up!"

Those eyes were now glowering and dark, a muscle in his jaw pulsing angrily as his expression changed from one of confusion to outright rage, grabbing Steve by the collar with force but Steve grappled with him, determined to pry that clamping grip from his shirt.

"Simon-!"

"Fuck you!" He snarled.

The fabric was bunched up in his fist so tightly that the shirt was on the verge of tearing. He pulled Steve forward, their faces even closer than before and Steve was in utter shock, his mouth falling open in disbelief as Simon seemed to want to move in for a kiss but stopped short. Instead, his left arm was cocked and ready to take a swing right at his head, but Steve beat him to it, lurching forward to slap him across the face. It was really more of a move to simply snap him out of it. The blow rang out, and for a moment, there wasn't a sound other than Simon's heavy breathing as his head turned away. But that act of aggression proved to be a monumental mistake; those eyes looked as though they could cry, and that was something Steve was not expecting. Simon held back a whimper at first, and then became even more perturbed at his own reaction of vulnerability, and he roared, his voice emerging wordless, and this time he did take a swing but missed.

"What the bloody-!" Robert bellowed as Steve ducked his blow, pushing Simon backwards, watching slack jawed as Simon's head collided into the wall first and then instantly descended to the floor with a crash.

There was a stillness...a peculiar silence as they just stared at Simon sprawled on his back on the floor with his legs spread, and arms outstretched. He seemed lifeless. And when Steve observed the dent in the wall where his head had hit, a panic rose from within as he glanced over at Robert, his expression holding the same dread.

Fuck. What now?

"Ermmnn..." Steve began cautiously, "Is he...? Is he going to be alright? I mean, he's just passed out, yeah?"

"Uh, I don-don't know." Robert breathed, "Probably."

He bent down and placed 2 fingers on Simon's neck and cocked his head sideways at first, then moved down towards his nose and mouth, listening for any breath or sign of life.

"Yeah... He's uhm, he's okay I suppose."

Steve straightened himself up and smoothed his hair back calmly. He had to remain calm and not let this little scene ruffle his feathers any more than it had. At least he wouldn't give Simon the satisfaction of knowing how taken back he actually was, even though he was out cold and was now no threat in the slightest.

Robert slowly slid down the wall and settled next to the unmoving body slumped on the floor.

"Well, then..." Steve concluded casually, "If it's all the same to you, I'm off to bed."

Robert's face snapped up.

"What?" He was clearly baffled and at the same time, pissed off, "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means exactly what it's supposed to mean, Robert. I'm going to sleep."

"But... What about him?" he pointed to Simon's lifeless form, "His head nearly went straight through the wall. We have to take him to hospital!"

"Well, be my guest, dear." Steve said, his tone ensuring that Robert knew party time was obviously over, "Phone's just over there."

Steve sighed, stepped over Simon's legs and plodded down the corridor to his bedroom.

***   ***   ***

He rolled over, awakened by a noise and a yellowish light that shone into his room. He hadn’t completely shut the door and the lamp in the lounge still appeared to be on. He rubbed his eyes and crawled out of bed clad in only boxer shorts, careful of his footing as he walked towards the doorway, intending to switch off the light that those two hadn’t, grumbling at the bottles and cans that were strewn across the floor in his path. The sounds seemed to be coming from the kitchen, and what he thought might have been a mouse in one of the cupboards under the sink—which happened from time to time, turned out to be something else entirely. He squinted blearily as he took in the sight of a figure stirring on the floor, just where he had landed some time earlier after nearly bashing his head in.

“Simon?” Steve asked.

There was no answer.

“Where’s…?” Steve glanced around the room in search of another’s presence, “Where’s Robert?”

Simon slowly sat up with his back up against the wall and simply shrugged. His hand came up and rubbed the back of his head and he shifted, seeming to cringe at that motion, a slight groan escaping.

“Fuck.” He grumbled.

“Simon.” Steve’s voice was a bit firmer, more pressing in order to get a response, “Where did Robert go?”

Simon shrugged again, “No idea.” And slumped further down into himself, “Fucking head hurts.” He groaned.

Steve stepped forward and looked down, examining the side of Simon’s head but could see no signs of a lump, “I don’t see-”

“It’s the back…back of my head.” He winced again as he attempted to shift away from the wall.

“Oh, right…” Steve concluded, “Do you need help making it to the sofa?”

“Yeh, suppose.” It was a limp, defeated response.

“Come on.” Steve pulled and watched as Simon gradually rose from the floor, “Lie down here.”

He settled on the sofa gingerly resting his head down on one of the worn cushions.

“Ice for your head?”

“Sure, whatever…”

Steve walked to the kitchen and took the ice tray out of the freezer and located the ice pack. He filled it with a good amount of cubes and then screwed the cap back on whilst shaking his head and grinning, thinking to himself at what an odd offer of civility he had made when only hours ago he couldn’t have given a fuck if this person suffered an intracranial hemorrhage right in front of him.

“Here. This should help a bit.” He said quietly as he walked toward his new couch mate, surprised by the tone of tenderness in his own voice.

“Thanks.”

“Hmm…” He glanced around again before shuffling over to the loo just in case Robert decided to pass out on the floor in there—certainly wouldn’t be the first time—but there was no one. He had simply disappeared and left his pretty little friend to fend for himself. Who was the one being cold-hearted now?

“I think your sweetheart’s gone and deserted you.” Steve called from his bedroom as he slipped a T-shirt on over his head.

Simon snorted, “Pfah! Him? He doesn’t care… Doesn’t really love m-he...he’s just…Just a bastard really.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at that weary, telling bleat as he rifled through the ashtray on his bedside table, fishing out a good bit of a fat joint from amongst the discarded cigarette butts. Simon’s attitude wasn’t what he was expecting at all, and he was gripped by this bit of cattiness in their relationship, determined to dig even deeper into their odd dynamic.

“Well, about Robert…” Steve returned to the lounge and perched on the arm of the sofa, reached for the lighter on the console table to light the joint, took a deep inhale, then leaned over to pass it to Simon—a friendly gesture, perhaps? He was eager to see just how far he could get with this pensive, doe-eyed man, “He can be rather dismissive you know. Rather cold really. Just my experience.” He slid down onto the cushions to sit beside Simon, yet not too close—not yet anyway, “Robert simply takes what he can until there’s nothing left to take. He’ll become bored soon enough. And well…we all know what happens then, don’t we?”

He continued to chip away at his resolve even more, purposely lingering, fingers touching Simon’s so softly before adding, “But I’m sure you know that. You’ve known him long enough I suppose.”

And Simon’s eyes flashed sideways over at Steve, seeming to know all too well just what he meant, but his words reflected a certain amount of denial, “Lately he’s been…” Simon paused, “He hasn’t-No…! It’s not like that.” A bit of naïveté from this seemingly trusting creature proved to be utterly charming, and Steve couldn’t help but grin as he passed the joint back.

Simon took another toke and looked down, his brow furrowing as if he was deep in thought.

"Hey." Steve breathed, swift to change his tone as tender as he could, oozing with so much synthetic understanding that even he was amazed at his own performance. He reached forward, his hand attempting to brush against a cheek…to make those dark eyes raise to meet his own but instead, Simon turned away and Steve heard what he thought was an actual sniffle.

He knew just what to do now...

He put the small bit of what was left of the joint on the coffee table and slid closer, cautiously putting his arm around Simon’s shoulder. He felt a slight trembling coming from the other man’s body, and what sounded like a stifled sob eventually emerged. Was this man actually crying? Over Robert? Could it really be true?

“What’s all this?” Steve asked, his voice trying to soothe.

“Nothing-I…” Simon cleared his throat and took in a few long breaths to compose himself, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Steve shifted and squeezed his shoulder and leaned in closer, his other hand brushing away Simon’s bushy hair from his face, “You know…” He hesitated and slowly licked his lips, voice quietly resounding into his ear, “You’re right.”

As Simon turned to face him, a wet stream from a tear that had trailed down his face glistened in the light of the dimly lit room. It was perfect; that vulnerability giving Steve the impudence to persist.

“He is a bastard.”

Simon’s eyes grew wide, almost in disbelief at Steve’s words, and possibly at his own rather poignant admission he so carelessly let slip out earlier, and Steve knew that. Based on the performance he’d seen Simon put forth that evening, he surmised that this creature was one of raw emotion rather than logic, and perhaps tended toward the practice of wearing his heart on his sleeve, so to speak.

It was the ideal moment to swoop in and finish off his prey.

“What he’s said about you…” Steve said quietly while he shook his head.

“Huh?” Simon wiped his nose and sniffed. His expression was one of utter confusion.    

“Well,” He sighed, “There are rumors being bandied about.”

What-what rumors?”

Steve shifted, “I don’t know the details, but…apparently Robert’s been planting those villainous seeds himself.”

Simon was now visibly upset, his eyes as wide as saucers, and Steve actually did feel just a twinge of regret but it was merely a vague flicker across his mind.

“Well, let’s just say that his long-term plans don’t hold much hope for the likes of you.”

“Bu-why?” Simon sputtered, and Steve secretly grinned to himself, “I thought-?”

“Shh, darling…” Steve’s hand came up to brush the long shaggy hair out of Simon’s tearful, swollen eyes, “All this talking…eh? You’ve hit your head and now it’s swimming, isn’t it?” Steve gently coaxed Simon, his hand easing him back into the cushions by his shoulder, “Just relax now. Try not to think. Relax. We’ll talk more later, love.”

“But I-We-!”

"Shh..." Steve picked up the icepack that was in between them and tossed it to the floor, and that subtle motion caused his hand to catch something that was warm and inviting, a firm thigh…a small sound escaping Simon’s throat as Steve began to caress it, "It’s okay.” He whispered and leaned in again, planting a tiny kiss on that soft, warm cheek.

Simon’s eyes remained closed, but Steve could see his damp lashes trembling at that sensation of tenderness, and when his eyes finally opened, the deep darkness of them surrounded by smudged eyeliner simply stared back at Steve, seeming so unsure yet starved for such attention.

“Kiss me.” Steve’s voice was seductive—just soft enough, and Simon’s head tilted forward slowly, lips trembling as he kissed him on his cheek.

“No, no sweet thing…” Steve shook his head, “Kiss me.” He commanded, voice a low growl this time. And much to his surprise, Simon’s arm came up around his neck, pulling him in until their lips met in a lingering closed mouth kiss, pressing…until Steve pressed even more, his hand coming up to land on Simon’s arm, rubbing it as he opened his mouth, plunging his tongue inside as Simon’s head tipped backwards on the sofa, a muffled “Oomph” emerging from bumping the bruise on the back of his head.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last as long as Steve wanted; Simon broke the kiss and turned his head away. He was out of breath—a shaking, muddled mess, but he didn’t push Steve away...at least not at first, and his arms remained around his neck until he seemed to snap out of it, just a hesitation before he began to push him back.

“Oh, come now...” Steve tutted gently, burying his nose in his hair, nudging his ear, “Don’t worry about him… He never appreciated you. Doesn't really love you.”

Simon’s head immediately dropped into the hollow of Steve’s neck, a regretful sob escaping despite himself, Steve was certain of it. Oh, how he wished he could pat himself on the back! Such impeccable timing and such precise aim straight through the heart.

“You don’t need him. Never did.”

Simon’s head finally rose, and when Steve kissed him, his lips were damp from his own tears. His mouth opened almost immediately, and when he let Steve’s tongue inside, he was overpowered, his body pushed further into the back of the sofa, Steve's hands groping those smooth, muscular arms. He breathed in Simon's ear intentionally, licking at the lobe, and Simon sighed, seeming preoccupied enough to let Steve's wandering hands move lower until they roamed over his thighs, quickly scuttling straight to his belt. 

It was a light push or nudge as Simon’s hands came up and firmly landed on his as if to stop him, breaking the kiss, those smoldering eyes just staring at Steve as his shoulders moved up and down with exaggerated breath.

“Just let me...” He insisted, happily noticing that there was very little convincing needed as Simon’s grip evaporated, and his hands immediately fell away, letting Steve assert his dominance. He moved forward with his plan and unbuckled his belt, kissing him again, his other hand eagerly threading into his hair and pulling…and Simon whimpered at that before that plush mouth found Steve’s again and began to suck on his tongue, pulling him in. It was more of a whirlwind than what he was expecting—he had absolutely no idea that Robert’s little boyfriend was so inclined. So inviting… And a most excellent kisser, Steve thought as he proceeded to push him deep into the sofa cushions once again. But it was short-lived—he suddenly came up with a much better idea.

He sat up and wiped his mouth, eyeing Simon through a narrow gaze. This was definitely a side of him that he’d never seen; so different from the tough posturing he displayed on stage, and to a certain extent, off stage as well. His boisterous persona had all but vanished as he sat slouched on the cushions, his vulnerability making him look so small, crumpled even. And Steve grinned ever so slightly, not wanting to make his ultimate plan too obvious, though it didn’t seem as if he would need much persuading to steer Robert’s less than charming sidekick in the other direction, far away from whatever happened earlier between them…whatever that was. And eventually, if he put enough work into it, far away from Robert’s influence. Very far.

Surprisingly, at that moment, Simon did seem more than willing to engage in such delicious devilment without his royal highness, so this was a good sign indeed. So much for blind devotion, Steve thought.

He rose from the sofa a bit wobbly on his feet and stood there, holding out his hand, “Come on.” Voice thick like syrup as he waited for Simon to take the bait, “Come with me.”

Simon sniffed, his chest heaving, and after what felt like a lifetime, that hand finally reached out to grasp Steve’s but the stiffness in his grip seemed to hold both of them still in that moment. The little flash of doubt on Simon’s part, and the fact that his gaze still hadn’t turned up to meet his, made Steve quickly rethink his approach. He squeezed slightly and then tugged, a firm persistence…hoping it was enough to stir Simon back into the present moment, but there was no reaction—Simon’s head remained bowed.

“I’ve got something that'll make you feel good. Would you like that?” His voice turned quiet and taught, dark…making his invite sound nearly sinister, with Simon's hair seeming to quiver at those words. Steve’s hand found his chin and forced his face upwards in an ungraceful motion, oddly observing that his chin certainly wasn’t dimpled like Robert’s, and not nearly as prominent. It was just another fault of many in this creature, he supposed. As he studied the rest of his features more closely, he had to admit that this lad wasn’t really his ‘type’ per se, but there was a wildness about him that Steve did find marginally attractive.

Simon’s eyes closed for a moment, and when he opened them to acknowledge the man standing over him, the reticence in that stare was telling; it was as if Steve had ordered him to follow him straight down into hell. And it was then that Steve saw the confusion, the fear...and how deeply Simon had fallen, leading him to assume that, surely, his royal highness must have been this man's first. And only.

Their hands were still clasped together, with Steve doing most of the holding on as Simon’s grip turned limp, like he had all but given up. And when Steve shifted, tugging at Simon’s arm again, it seemed to work; he slowly rose to his feet. Perfect, he thought, his lips curling into a smug grin. Such a good boy...

***     ***     ***

The bedroom was just bright enough, and it would do for now. Under these strange circumstances, the last thing he wanted to do was to startle the poor man by flicking on the light and have him do a runner, so instead, he stepped in close, close enough to tempt him with what he now held in his hand. Yes, it was a drink…of sorts; a sizeable glass of top-quality brandy—wouldn’t have anything less stocked in his bar—however, it held a little something extra special.

He swirled the liquid around in the glass and with eyebrows raised, “Drink?”

Simon’s bloodshot stare slowly blinked before he nodded and took the glass, downing all of the contents in one gulp, coughing afterwards.

Steve grinned wide; mission accomplished. This wasn’t the first time he’d done something as covert as this, remembering quite clearly the few times several years ago when he spiked a certain drummer’s drink with a certain mind-altering substance just before he hit the stage. It seemed as though these Cure blokes were a bit too careless, a bit too trusting—after all, a grown man should have enough wherewithal to keep track of his own beverage.

Simon tossed the hair out of his eyes and glanced around the room as if looking for more to drink. This really is much too easy, Steve thought, How very lovely, indeed.

“Sit…” Steve commanded, gently prying the glass from Simon's grip, “Whilst I fetch us some more.”

Simon wordlessly obeyed, arms nervously wrapping around himself as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking for all the world like a scolded child—so pale and drawn in on himself, and the peculiarity of his posture…the entire situation was most amusing, and for the life of him, Steve couldn’t understand why this man chose to linger. Here. In his bedroom, of all places. But then he decided it simply wasn’t up to him to try and understand or care just why anyone does anything. He was growing bored with trying to attach some sort of logic to this boondoggle of an evening.

Steve shrugged as he walked to the kitchen, slid the bottle of brandy and glass from the counter and then stopped, deciding to leave the glass behind. Why muck about? It seemed quite obvious that the man perched on his bed could use a bit more to settle his nerves and he would be glad to oblige.

“Here we are.” He announced as he stood over Simon and thrust the bottle towards his head.

“Thanks.” Without even looking up, Simon listlessly grabbed hold of it and downed a few long gulps before passing it back.

My, but this lad could knock ‘em back, he mused, noting that none of The Cure boys ever disappointed in that realm.

Steve took a drink, placed the open bottle on the nightstand and lowered himself on the bed just behind Simon. They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments with Steve just watching Simon's shoulders and back expand with each breath, until he leaned forward to place a hand on his right shoulder, and, predictably so, Simon stiffened.

“What's the matter?” Steve asked.

But he just sunk down deeper, his body seeming to deflate, disappointed that his mind could be read so easily. It wasn't difficult at all to see the turmoil that took over his very aura. Such a basic creature, Steve thought, then pulled back gently on that warm yet tense shoulder just enough. 

“Come…” He patted the mattress, “It’s better if you sit here.” Such calming certainty in his own voice was quite impressive he had to admit.

Simon turned his head, placed his hands on his knees and rose from the bed with an unsteadiness from the alcohol and, most likely, something else. He stood and then turned, plopping down clumsily on the bed.

“Whoa!” Steve giggled and grabbed hold of Simon's arm as he floundered for a moment, before sitting up to face him, “Steady on!”

Simon grinned halfheartedly and shook his head.

"You'll be fine, love." He slid closer, reaching up to brush the intrusive mane of hair out of Simon’s face before slinking an arm around his shoulder, gently easing him backwards onto the bed, "Trust me."

That little white lie was spoken quite clearly, yet empty and hollow in its meaning, but Steve couldn't have given a toss about the lack of sincerity—especially since he was nearly on top of him without any complaint this time, watching those deep, brown eyes as they remained open but still red and puffy. 

"I can't... I-I'm not-"

"Shh..." Steve quieted, attempting a benign smile, and dared to move in even closer, his body pressing up against, feeling the heat radiating through his thin T-shirt, mouth a mere inch from his...and he kissed him.

Simon immediately tried turning his face away, already babbling nonsense and a bit breathless from it as well. That made Steve pause for a moment, not sure if the rapid onset of confusion was from the acid he’d slipped in his drink or if it was from the ample amount of booze he downed so quickly, along with the blow to his gulliver. And after wasting important time by pondering over this for long enough, he concluded that Simon's increasingly muddled state was more than likely caused by all three of those combined. He stopped right then; a rare spark of moral sense threatening to overcome him, and wondered if he should be left alone to simply sleep it off. But no...not now. What was the harm in having a bit of fun first?

He couldn't deny that the intriguing quality when it came to Simon's “innocence” about matters of a sexual nature with other men actually caught his fancy. And when he looked down at the lithe creature that lay beneath him struggling just a bit, luscious and untamed just enough, Steve had no qualms about teaching him how things were really done. Who knows? He thought, Perhaps, Simon would be smart enough to give some pointers to his royal highness afterwards, too? 

He suddenly sputtered, catching himself off guard, laughing out loud at that ridiculous thought as his moral sense gradually morphed into to a more customary deprecating playfulness.

Steve seemed to smother his defenseless houseguest as he kissed him furiously, only to utter a breathy taunt when finally lifting his mouth away, “Siiiimon…” It was an attempt to rouse him, to hopefully see some sort of sign that he was beginning to enjoy what they were doing now, because in all honesty, Steve certainly was. It only made him even more determined to take things further.

His lips crept down Simon’s neck to his chest, pushing the leather vest that was already wide open, out of the way, kissing and licking…noticing the patch of soft, dark hair in the middle of such firm, smooth skin, soon discovering that he smelled and even tasted quite nice as well; a mélange of tobacco, leather and sweat, with remnants of some sort of musky cologne probably applied many hours ago.

“Mmm, very nice...” That throaty acknowledgement slipped out despite himself; he would have preferred to play hard to get when it came to bestowing compliments. It seemed more advantageous to make this fetching specimen work a bit for a reward.

Steve continued to venture even further with his mouth, his hands eagerly following suit, gradually working his way down—concentrating so much on exploring what was turning out to be a truly delectable expanse of flesh that he hardly noticed its inhabitant’s scrabbling to escape his clutches, though it made little impact as he was completely fixated; the struggling only serving to encourage and excite him, mistaking it for a sort of inebriated, inept friskiness.

A most obvious sign to forge ahead.

His hands pawed at Simons vest, desperate to get it off, soon realizing that he would receive no help with his efforts. So in order to make the most of the situation, he abandoned that idea and his hands moved straight to his previously unfastened belt. No sooner did he pop the button and begin to pull down the zipper when he heard something…something most unusual that made him stop instantly. It was a sound that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than an actual sob. A sob filled with such despondency, it literally made Steve pull his mouth away in disbelief, a string of saliva still attached to them both as he raised his lips from his stomach.

“Stop.” Simon murmured, his voice anxious and quivering.

Steve sat up at last, realizing that the tone in his playmate’s voice was anything but whimsical , and he placed his hands on either side of his head in order to lean over him, to get a glimpse of his face through his now sweaty, explosive mass of hair.

“Wh…” Steve began and then swallowed still panting, trying to catch his breath. He pulled down his t-shirt that had been rucked up his midsection during their activity, and his erection gently prodded Simons thigh, “What’s-?”

“Youuu...” Such a strange sound… A low rumble in his throat.

Simon’s eyes were huge, his dark empty stare eerily penetrating right through Steve. He wasn’t quite sure what he meant with his murmurings or where this was going exactly, so he dismissed it, chalking it up to the effects of the booze and acid. He forced an uneasy chuckle, and when he bent to kiss him again Simon placed both hands flat onto Steve’s chest pushing him back hard, nearly topping him.

“Hey-!”

“You!” Simon’s growl changed to a bleat, his body writhing, suddenly thrashing…the bed shaking beneath them as Steve attempted to capture those slippery arms to evade his fists but it was pointless; he seemed unstoppable, “You fucking-!” Simon finally succeeded in pushing Steve back, “…Bastard!”

“Simon!” Steve shouted and sat back on his knees, hoping that calling his name would snap him out of it but he still managed to squirm, sliding up on the mattress. Luckily, he didn’t manage to get far in his precarious state and Steve saw that opportunity, lunging at him in order to hold him down by his shoulders while leaning his full weight on top of him but that didn’t seem to deter him.

“No!” He was screaming at Steve, his chest heaving furiously as he choked out his words, “You know what you fucking did! You fucking nearly killed me! It was you!”

Steve was at an utter loss to even comprehend just what in the bloody hell he was ranting on about.  He couldn’t have possibly remembered just how out of it he was earlier, and the incident that unfolded. Even if he did remember, it was Simon who couldn’t keep his footing, putting a dent into his wall that he’d most likely have to patch.  That inconvenience was something he wasn’t looking forward to. He’d had quite enough now and was ready to throw him out the front door and down the stairs head first, sorely regretting not doing that from the very beginning.

He reached down and grabbed Simon’s face, his hand clamping firmly onto his jaw in order to shut him up but it wasn’t working. The thin, crazed creature suddenly seemed to muster up much more strength than Steve bargained for, and with it came a surge of power from those long arms, trying to punch and grab at him, everything a swirling blur in the darkened room. They were both writhing tangled in sheets, the pillows knocked off in the midst of their tussle, equally floundering for control on the mushy bed with Simon’s hand coming up for a punch to his face that missed, hitting his shoulder instead.

“Fuck! Stop it!” Steve yelled, trying to steady the squirming, sweaty, tripped out mess beneath him. His hand dug into his face and squeezed so hard he was sure it would leave a bruise or even blood, but it only made Simon whip his head from side to side in a frenzy, as if he was possessed by some demon. And it was then that Steve managed to catch sight of it; a metallic glint…but by that time it was too late to stop it—Simon’s arm was already in motion sweeping upwards, the strike hitting his exposed belly like a brick, the pressure and the sharp pain that followed caused him to immediately gasp.

“What the bloody…?” Steve mouthed, utterly shocked. He looked down at his stomach and his eyes grew wide at the shock of a small gouge and a few droplets of blood that began to weep from it.

All Simon could do was drop his arm limply amidst gasps and sobs, and Steve could see the small bloody paring knife now laying on the bed beside his open hand.

Steve’s mind flickered at a million miles per hour, his senses and adrenaline were heightened in flight or flight mode, and his eyes ticked down to the knife. His paring knife, he realized. But how did this little shit have enough nerve to pull off a scheme such as this? And a pathetic one at that. Why not go for the gusto and pick something a bit more menacing?  He thought, on the verge of bitter laughter…

“You fucking cocksucker!” Simon barked, instantly spitting right in Steve’s face as soon as those words left his lips.

Steve’s head snapped away, turning his cheek to Simon, and when that slobber hit him in the corner of his eye his jaw became firm and set, pulse racing under his skin as his glare darkened, his anger now at a full boil.

*to be continued