Part Thirteen
Paulie remained still and silent on the living room floor, his eyes crunched shut. If he could have willed himself to stop breathing then and there, he thought he just might have given it a shot. How to make this right? Jesus, he didn't even know where to begin. He'd fucked up royally. Done the complete opposite of everything he should have. If Grant refused to forgive him, Paulie knew he'd have no one to blame but himself.
However, the fact that Moretti hadn't kicked him out of the apartment immediately, offered him a minuscule fraction of hope. Even as pissed off as the detective was, he'd stomped off into his bedroom and left Paulie lying there. For future torment? Because Grant couldn't bear to see him go? Possibly both? He wasn't sure. The only thing that Paulie WAS certain of was that Grant had thoroughly enjoyed brandishing his newfound control over him. The merciless spanking he'd just received had excited the detective. Maybe even unnerved him.
The sudden, piercing ring of a telephone cut through the air, making Paulie's heart slam against his ribs. The startling noise pulled him out of his thoughts for a moment. Could that be the station calling Grant into work? The man's infamous and unforgiving father? Lisa? Shit. Paulie had the distinct feeling that no matter who it was on the other end of the phone, it wouldn't be good for HIM. What to do...what to do... The wheels in Paulie's mind spun at breakneck speed. He knew what he DIDN'T intend to do. Paulie wasn't going to run. Not this time. He'd spent most of his fucking life running from something or someone; first his father, then Cody and the nightmare that was boarding school.
From the legal ramifications of his hustling, and even from Thad to some degree. No. He wouldn't do it this time. Couldn't. Somehow, Grant had managed to slip through the walls he'd constructed so carefully around himself. If Paulie turned his back on the way he felt this time, there was a chance it'd never happen again. Anyway, who the fuck else would want him as much as Grant did? He was a manipulative piece of shit. That much of what Moretti said, had been true.
Rolling to his knees, Paulie struggled to push himself up to his feet, the muscles in his arms burning from being pinned back for such a long stretch of time. Barefoot, he padded down the hallway toward Grant's bedroom. Listening to the man's muffled voice through the wooden door. Lisa. It had to be Lisa. Grant's voice had taken on a pleading, remorseful quality. What the hell could she be calling for? A wave of panic struck. What if she forgave Grant? Surely, if she did then he would be out on the street. Moretti would never so much as look at him again. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Paulie rested his sweat-dampened forehead against the door and sighed. He tried to decipher the low mumbling on the other side of the bedroom door, but could not. What he did hear, soon after, was the sound of the receiver being slammed into the cradle. Knowing it was rather selfish, Paulie couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. If Grant was dropping the phone like that, the conversation could NOT have ended well.
"Grant? Hey, Grant? Do you think that maybe you could take these cuffs off me, now? My arms ache. Grant? Are you listening?" His voice was shrill, but he didn't care. He wanted attention, and he wanted it now. And while he wasn't the brightest star in the sky, he knew that tantrum throwing would not work this time.
"Pleeeease? Come on. I am NOT going to give you a hard time. I swear." Heavy footfalls approached. Angry steps. Paulie leapt backwards, away from the door, then made a vain attempt to fling the moist strands of hair off his cheek, where they seemed determined to stick. Always the actor, Paulie averted his eyes before the door swung open. If Grant needed to feel he was controlling the situation, then Paulie would play along. He'd let the detective believe anything he needed, if it got Paulie what HE wanted.
"What?! What do you want, now?" Although he couldn't see Grant's face yet, Paulie knew those brilliant blue eyes would be ablaze with all the rage he felt. Nervously, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Daring to glance just high enough to study the other's exposed chest - the blond curling hairs, weaving a path up Grant's flat stomach to his subtly muscled chest. Fuck, he was hot. Beautiful. Paulie's stomach trembled, as he struggled to speak.
"My arms really hurt, Grant. Would you please uncuff me?" Lifting his gaze to meet Moretti's in mute appeal, he repeated the request. "Please? I won't do anything stupid."
"Hrmpf. Paulie, at this point there is nothing you can do that would hurt or surprise me. You've already done it all." The muscles in Grant's jaw tensed, his usually soft and curvy lips became a thin line.
"You didn't love her, Grant. I know you didn't. If you had, then you wouldn't have come to ME."
"Fuck you." The detective pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then spoke, his tone a bit raspy. Resistance wearing increasingly thin, despite the harshness of his words. "You're a conniver and a whore. I don't know what I was thinking."
Swallowing the bitter lump in his throat, Paulie ignored the insults that wanted to gouge holes in his heart, and continued. "True. You're right, Grant. I can be both of those things -- but I'm more than that. I've done you wrong and I'm sorry. God, can't you fucking SEE that? See how sorry I am?"
For the longest second, Moretti stood there, sizing him up. His expression remained distant. Cold. Paulie could only guess that the other man was making an attempt to gauge his sincerity. "All right. I'll take the handcuffs off you. Turn around."
As Grant's hand dug deep into his pants pocket, Paulie rotated very slowly. Hesitantly. Feeling apprehensive at having to turn his back on the other. Still he complied, knowing he'd have to take things one step at a time. Come what may.
Strong, slender fingers gripped his forearms for a moment, then traveled upward over Paulie's arms. Gently. The unexpected caress sending shivers through his body. A faint, strangled noise caught in Paulie's throat. Godyes. How he ached for this touch. Grant's fingers massaging his neck, digging at his sore muscles, combing through his hair. What fucking bliss. He arched his neck against the detective's steadily working hand and sighed.
"Mmm. How's that? Better?" Moretti's lips pressed close against his ear, voice mocking. Paulie didn't care; he nodded as if to say 'yes'. Sucking in a deep breath, as he heard Grant tug down his own zipper. "Tell me, just how do you intend to make things right by me, Paulie? Hmm?"
"Anything." Paulie huffed quickly, "I'll do anything you want."
"Good, good...I like that. I hope you mean it." With that, Moretti slipped a key into the metal restraints that held Paulie's wrists bound. Clinking faintly, they finally came undone.
Refusing to give in to the urge to inspect his damaged skin, Paulie opened his mouth, prepared to express his gratefulness. The words never made it out. In one swift motion, Paulie was pinned, chest first, against the wall. Moretti's hand clamped tightly around his throat. He could breathe, but could not speak. The best he could manage was an unattractive gurgle. For christsake, did the man mean to fucking strangle him? This was bullshit. A beating he could take, but this? He felt TOO helpless this way.
"Shhh. Relax, Paulie. Don't try to talk, just concentrate on breathing. Yeah, that's right. You got it. Stay calm..." Hot whispers bathed his ear again, as Grant crushed up against the entire length of his body. The other man's swollen cock pressed between the crack of Paulie's ass -- coarse hairs from Moretti's chest chafing his back. "Before I kick our ass back out into the street, I'm going to fuck it raw. Understand? You owe me that much. You've been teasing my dick since day one."
Though he felt the anxiety rising inside him, Paulie couldn't protest. Not with Moretti's hand still constricted around his neck. Fucker. Would he do that? Would Grant really kick him out after he had what he wanted? There was a part of Paulie that didn't want to believe Moretti was capable of such a thing. But then again, he was reluctant to hope for the best as it so seldom happened.
Teeth raked his shoulder and sank firmly into his skin, making him want to scream. He tried -- tried crying out regardless of the cop's death-choke. The noise he expelled was wretched. Tears stung Paulie's eyes and spilt down over his gaunt face. The urge to struggle almost overtook him. Hadn't he made a promise to himself? That he would never be this vulnerable again? Wasn't HE supposed to call the shots? And then, just when he thought he might snap, came tender kisses -- the long, warm strokes of Grant's wet tongue over his punctured and bruised flesh. Moretti's free hand slipped between the wall and Paulie's body, moving low, fumbling until he had Paulie's heavy sack in the palm of his hand. "We're going to take a walk into the bedroom now."