Part Eleven

The thunderous crash of Grant's apartment door made Paulie start in his seat. He shifted uncomfortably and stared down at the drawstring that tied at his narrow waist. Fingers toying with the clumsy bow, nervously, though his face betrayed no emotion.

While he wanted desperately to hate Lisa, Paulie knew she had every right to inform Grant about what had happened. He supposed that he was getting off easy. Lisa was allowing him to tell Grant his version of the incident, rather than spilling out the graphic details herself while crying a river tears. She could have played the victim. It would have been simple enough for her to do. Certainly, Moretti would have taken Lisa's word over his. Wasn't it true that the detective always saw the worst in him? However, Lisa had chosen another, much more dignified and merciful path. She had been vague; had only hinted at what transpired between them.

"Paulie? Ohgod...Paulie... What have you done?" Grant broke the awkward silence that had overtaken the room, once the door had slammed shut behind Lisa. Carefully, he began moving toward Paulie, his cerulean eyes stretched open with disbelief.

Paulie refused to meet the man's astonished glare. "Nothing. I just told her the truth. I figured she had a right to know who she was marrying."

"You told her about us?" Moretti stepped closer, slowly, until he was looming with menace above Paulie's chair. For the briefest second, Paulie found himself tempted to blurt out an apology - considered begging his benefactor for forgiveness. However, his pride wouldn't allow him that luxury. While Paulie was apprehensive, he would still have to play his current hand out before he could seriously entertain the thought of groveling. He wasn't that desperate, at least not yet.

His trepidation building with each passing minute, Paulie stole a fleeting glance at the other's face and swallowed hard. "Did I tell her about "us"? What was there to tell, Grant? I gave you a blowjob; it was rather meaningless."

"And you told Lisa?"

"Yeah, I did. But she demanded information. Erm. Well, sorta." Stammering, Paulie braced himself, expecting an explosion of obscenities or a physical backlash in response to his confession.

Instead, Moretti crouched down and sat back on his heels, making it impossible for Paulie to see anything but the despondent expression on his face. The man's voice was wavering when he spoke again, losing the battle to keep his temper at bay. "And tell me, Paulie... The bruises... The torn dress... You didn't hit her, did you?"

"Ohfuckingjesus, Moretti. Come on... I don't wanna talk about this any more. Tell me what you found at my apartment?" Paulie blinked, pleading mutely with large, pale eyes -- wanting to push the wrong he had committed far out of his mind, at least temporarily. He cringed when he saw the twisting of Grant's features; heard a distressed groan erupt from the man's lips. The detective looked as though he'd just taken a blow to the gut. Disgust etched deep lines in Grant's typically smooth, tanned skin. Paulie had finally managed to repel the man. Unable to bear this knowledge, he tried averting his gaze once more, heart thumping rapidly against his slight ribcage.

"Did you FUCK my fiance, Paulie?" Finally, it came. The fury that Paulie had sensed brewing somewhere deep within the other man, was finally unleashed. In one sudden motion, Grant's arm shot out. Strong fingers twined through the long glossy tendrils framing Paulie's face, and yanked his head backward.

Pain ripped its way through Paulie's scalp, making him whimper like a child, diminishing his resolve to remain strong before Grant. He cursed to himself as hot tears stung his blue-gray eyes. The assault itself was no shock. In fact, it was exactly what Paulie had expected. But the tears, they threw him. Came as an unwelcome surprise. Why the fuck was he about to cry? He'd taken terrible beatings before. Surely, he could take whatever Grant wanted to dish out. And why...why was there a distinct ache in his chest?

"Ahh shit...please...don't... Listen to me. It was stupid...we were both angry at you." Wrapping his hand around Grant's wrist, Paulie continued, "it didn't mean a damn thing and you know it."

"The FUCK it doesn't! I took you in, Paulie!? I put my career on the line for you! And this... THIS is what you do in return? You dirty, no good piece of shit." In a frenzy Moretti stood, dragging him up off the chair. Jerking Paulie to and fro, by the head of the hair, as he bombarded him with insults and curses. "You have fucking ruined my life! Do you understand? I'm going to be a laughing stock... I'll be disowned!"

Sobbing, Paulie screamed back, his voice shrill from the knife-like pain. "Fuck you, you bastard! You're not a man, you're a pussy." Although the words he spewed forth were confrontational, Paulie felt anything but. His words were hollow. There was no fight left in him, there was only remorse.

"Yeah, Paulie? Is that what you think?" The almost-gleeful tone of Grant's voice struck fear into Paulie's heart. He couldn't help but wonder if he'd pushed Grant's teetering sanity over edge, this time. "Come on, little scumbag..."

Growling, the detective marched across the room to the couch, towing Paulie along with him. On his hands and knees, Paule scrambled to keep up, his face contorted. "Owwwwww. Let go, Grant? Please... I'm so fucking tired."

At that, Grant laughed. It wasn't a laugh filled with mirth, but one of great bitterness. "Oh, I'm sure you are, Paulie. You had yourself an action packed morning - had your hands full fucking up my life... Didn't you?"

When Moretti forced Paulie's face down against the sofa's plush cushions, he put up little resistance. Let hot tears roll down his gaunt cheeks, shamelessly. What did it matter? He'd succeeded in making Grant loathe him. Couldn't go back to his apartment, and would no longer be able to make a living in the city. No matter what transpired from here on out, he knew he was fucked.

Both of Paulie's arms were yanked behind his back, pulled with such vigor that his scrawny shoulders strained and ached. Though he was unable to see the detective, Paulie knew what was coming next. Knew before he even heard the jingling of the slim metal chain, or the manacles clinking together. Handcuffs. Cold and heavy, they squeezed around his slender wrists. Paulie clenched his eyes shut, trying to ward off the panic that threatened to claim him. Would Grant have the balls to drag him down to the station? Or was Moretti just going to slap him around some more? Paulie prayed for the latter. Spending any amount of time in a prison cell would be a fate worse than death.

"You look good this way, Paulie. Just like you did the night I hauled your ass through my car window. Remember that? I do. God, how I wish I'd never met you... Why I ever trusted a filthy little whore, I'll never understand. But I won't make that mistake again. No sir... I sure as hell won't." The hard, polished toe of Moretti's shoe made contact with Paulie's stomach, knocking the wind out of him before making him topple down to the floor.

Coughing and groaning, Paulie curled up on his side, his lower lip quivering. He wasn't sure whether it was trembling from fear or because he was beginning to hurt all over. "Grant... Grant... I'm sorry... I swear, I didn't meant to fuck you over..."

An apology... Paulie could barely believe his own words. Had he ever apologized to another person and meant it? No... No he hadn't. But he knew that he meant it now. It was finally time to grovel. Or maybe, it was just time to tell the truth? Time to tell Grant that he'd only behaved like a horrid and spoilt child because he WANTED the detective for his own -- more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life. And that meant the woman had to go. Paulie had to chase her away so that he'd be less likely to lose. It had just backfired...had gone so terribly wrong... He peered up at Moretti through the strands of dark hair that'd fallen into his face. Even furious, Grant was stunning enough to make his heart skip. Could he do it? Could he be that honest? Paulie didn't know...

"Are you CRYING? Holy shit... Why are you crying? Do you have FEELINGS, Paulie? Or is it just that your body can't take another beathing today?" Smirking, Moretti grabbed him by one arm and pulled him up to his feet. "Look at you...all red-eyed and snot-nosed. I never thought I'd see you break down."

"I have feelings." Paulie spoke quietly and sniffled. How fucking humiliating it was to be seen in such a state... Yet deep down, he knew it was his own doing. Knew that HE had reduced himself to this with the choices he'd made. There was no one else to blame. And Paulie hated himself for that - for what he'd become. Despised himself for wounding the one person who'd tried to help him, for having been such a monster to the woman...

"That's good to know." The other man snapped coldly, tugging at the string that held up Paulie's scrubs; loosening the waist, until the flimsy pants slipped down over Paulie's thighs and bunched at his ankles. "Don't get too excited, I'm not going to fuck you...not even if you beg for it. God only knows what diseases you might have."

More tears... As hard as Paulie tried to hold them back, they kept coming. No sarcasm, no wise cracks. He just stood there feeling foolish and rotten to the core.

"Stop that! Stop it with the fucking crying act, right NOW!" The detective's face was reddening as his temper rose. "You wanna cry? You stupid fuck... I'll give you something to cry about..."

Grant pulled him down to the couch, shifting Paulie's lithe body until it was positioned properly -- until he was bent over the detective's knees, bare ass fully exposed. Without taking pause, the palm of Moretti's hand slapped against Paulie's naked ass, the harshness of the blow turning his pallid skin a bright shade of pink -- making Paulie yelp out loud. It came again. Once more...twice...three times... Over and over again his ass was struck, until his flesh was so raw that it felt as if it were on fire.

The searing pain made it near impossible for Paulie to remain compliant. Every time Grant's hand was about to make contact with his abused skin, he wiggled vainly, frantic to escape the detective's unforgiving hand. Choking on his sobs. Each slap jostling his prone body, until Paulie became painfully aware that his cock was growing stiff against Grant's muscular thigh. "Fuck, ohfuck, stop... I've had enough, pleeeease."

His only response was another smarting whack on the ass. Paulie moaned, warmth growing in his belly. Realizing that he was defeated, he stopped begging and tried to focus on Grant's movements - letting them rock his body. Concentrating on how delicious the friction felt against his swollen cock, until finally he was moaning. Feeling lightheaded...almost drunk... What the fuck?

"You like this, don't you? You like everything...you slut... I wish you could see yourself, right now. God..." Grant was mumbling above him, the man's breath coming in quick rasps.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over... The spanking ended abruptly. Too abruptly. Letting out a frustrated gasp, Paulie raised his bottom brazenly, craving more. Instead, Grant smoothed one hand over his ass, even the lightest touch making Paulie's tender skin ache. "Grant?"

Without speaking, Moretti repositioned Paulie so that his body was resting against the arm of the sofa. The detective's hands wandered to the collar of his shirt, deft fingers opening the buttons briskly, as he held Paulie's glassy-eyed stare.

Still intoxicated, Paulie watched on, letting his head roll back against the sofa, as Grant shrugged the shirt off his sinewy shoulders and balled it up in his hand. The small act seemed so suggestive, Paulie's cock twitched against his belly, a string of warm cum oozing from the fat head... But he didn't care anymore. He only hoped that Grant noticed and realized how very much he was wanted. Hoped that his body's betrayal would say what he could not say with words.

The detective leaned toward Paulie and lifted his shirt, using it to wipe at the sweat and tears coating Paulie's cheeks. Grant's hot breath puffed against his face. So close. They were only inches apart...lips near enough to kiss.

Paulie tilted his head, raising his mouth just a bit closer to Moretti's. Desperate for contact, so aroused that coherent thought escaped him. "Do you want me to beg you for a kiss? Because...I will...if you want..."

A slow, sadistic grin stretched across Grant's face, as his lips edged closer to Paulie's. Just before Paulie could capture them with his own, the detective drew his head backwards. Taunting. Blue eyes glinting coldly at Paulie's frustration. "Mmm. Look at you, all hard again...and so soon after sticking your filthy dick in my fiance... Heh."

His mouth parched, Paulie ran the tip of his tongue over his lips and glanced down at his cock, still weeping against his stomach. He was sure he looked obscene - so exposed and begging for attention, drooling all over himself like some teenaged boy... Just as sure as he was that Moretti was every bit as turned on. The detective was definitely getting his rocks off on the whole "control" thing. Wordlessly, Paulie drew one leg up, bending his knee as he spread his skinny thighs wider apart. If Moretti wanted to think of him as being dirty, then he'd give the man just what he wanted. Fuck. He'd give Grant just about anything, right now.

"What is it, Paulie? You want me to fuck you NOW? Want me to fuck that hungry little ass of yours? Finally? After all you've put me through? After all the taunting and the backstabbing that you've done?! Hrmpf." Shaking his head with disbelief, the detective dipped the tip of his index finger into the cum dripping from Paulie's pee slit. Smearing it over the spongy head, very gently, before trailing it down the soft underbelly of Paulie's shaft.

Twinging involuntarily at the lightest touch, Paulie gasped. "I'm sorry. Lemme make it up to you?"

"For someone who's supposed to be street wise, you can be so fucking stupid sometimes, you know that? You can't fix everything with your prick, Paulie." With those words spat, Moretti grabbed firm hold of Paulie's cock and gave it a hard squeeze, making him squirm uncomfortably. "Even if it is a big, hot piece of meat. Jesus Christ, where do you get off looking like this? Like every faggot's wet dream?"

Wincing, Paulie stared down at the strong fingers wrapped around his throbbing organ. The man was gripping it so tightly; the head was expanding, turning a deep shade of purple. "And you're not, Grant? Ahhgod. Shit. Please..." He raised his eyes and locked them with Moretti's, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Look at you... You're perfect."

The detective's stony glare softened for an instant, then swiftly turned to steel once more. "And you're a fucking devil... I hate you. I really do." Grant released his sore member, smoothing the hand that had clutched Paulie's cock so roughly, up over his concave stomach to his chest. Wrapping the same moist, sticky fingers around Paulie's neck. Lightly, as if debating how much damage he wanted to inflict.

"I don't hate you." Awkwardly, Paulie attempted to nuzzle Moretti, his pillow-like lips finding the other's hairy forearm. When he wasn't immediately shoved away, Paulie shifted his weight and struggled to sit upright, plodding closer to Grant on his knees, and then straddling his muscular thighs. He looked down into the detective's face. "You know I don't."

Moretti's hand remained on Paulie's throat, as the younger man got situated on his lap. He shook his head again. "You're one fucked up kid, Paul."

"I don't want to be. All I want..." Paulie took a deep breath, heart set on speaking his mind. Hoping it'd bring him relief. "I just...I just want you... Only you. And it scares the piss out of me." Jesus, he'd said it out loud. Handcuffed and red-assed, none-the-less! Part of him screamed in protest that he was being a fool, behaving pathetically... The other part just didn't give a shit anymore -- was tired of the constant charade. He wasn't unfeeling, wasn't half the things he pretended to be. In truth, Paulie was lonely, frightened, and ashamed of so much in his life that he'd done. He WAS a bitter fuck-up, and he knew it. He just wasn't quite sure how to stop it.

Grant blinked, stunned by Paulie's profession. Hastily, wanting to take advantage of the detective while his guard was down, he bent his head and pressed his mouth against Moretti's. Drove his tongue between the other's smooth, pliant lips and into the wetness beyond. A wave of electricity shot through his body, when he felt Grant reciprocate. Felt the man's tongue glide against his, hot and slick, fighting for a dominance Paulie was more than happy to allow.

They kissed, deep and sloppy, until Paulie was whimpering against Grant's open mouth. Until he was making every possible attempt to grind his dick against the golden curls that crawled up over Moretti's belly and chest.

The detective's hands clutched at his ass cheeks, kneading the muscle beneath the sore flesh - spreading him open, long fingers delving inside. Grazing his pucker now and then, teasing relentlessly. Breathless, Paulie tore his mouth away from Grant's. "Please, ohgod, come on...fuck me? I can't take this. Just DO IT."

The sultry, heavy-lidded expression Moretti wore when he peered up at Paulie, slowly transformed into something else... Something much less desirable. What was it? Resentment? Distaste? A cool detachment? Paulie wasn't certain which, but even so, he knew what it meant. His heart sank with disappointment. No. It was more than just that, more than feeling let down. He felt utterly rejected. His tight-throated murmur was more like a plea. "Grant?"

Moretti burst out loudly with laughter, though he wore a pained expression. "You're so good, Paulie. Really...I almost believe you give a shit. Now get the fuck off me, before I really hurt you."

"No, wait... Please, just listen to me?" In a panic, Paulie rambled on, despite Grant's dismissal. "I'm not playing with you, Grant. I'm NOT. I can explain all the shit that's happened..."

"Fuck you, Paul. You think you can make it right? You can't take back what you've done, can you?" The detective's fine brow creased with anger, eyes narrowed as he grasped Paulie's shoulders. "You can't give me my life back, can you?!"

"No. No, I can't...but I can give you a new one. Something real. Something better." Aware that his voice had risen to a whine, Paulie continued regardless. "Please, just take these cuffs off me? Let's talk? Please, Moretti?"

Again, there was an explosion of laughter from the detective. It was the very last sound Paulie heard, before he was shoved backwards out of Moretti's lap and onto the floor. Once there, he curled up on his side and clenched his eyes shut. Feeling defeated and ashamed as he let tears claim him one more time.

continue...