Part Fifteen
"I just need your pretty ass."
Grant's callous words gouged a wound deeper into Paulie than any of the man's physical assaults had. In a sense, Paulie felt that he was receiving his just desserts. Had he not pushed Grant, over and over again, in hopes of unwrapping the other's smartly wrapped lie of an existence? Of course he had. It was his way to ruin everything he touched, much like a shit-mark smeared over a freshly whitewashed wall. And the worst of it was that Paulie KNEW it. He felt like a fucking monster. No better than the boys in his old prep school who had ass-raped him all those years ago.
Paulie's dread soared to new heights the moment he was forced over onto his stomach. No. God, not this . . . If he was going to be fucked, then he wanted to take it head on. Wanted to look up at Gran'ts face. Memorize it. Make the cop stare him dead in the eye as it was happening. Not this bullshit. Like this, he was completely helpless. His face shoved down hard against the mattress, he felt he might suffocate. Not because his scrawny neck and been wrung by Grant so recently, but because his own anxiety would choke off the air to his lungs.
He groaned against the disheveled bedding and struggled to turn over onto his side, swinging his fist backward awkwardly in an attempt to force Grant further away. Instead, strong fingers tangled in his hair and pressed his face down all the more forcefully, a silent threat meant to still his clumsy and desperate movements. "Ahh . . . come on, stop it . . . "
"Don't move . . . don't even open those cocksucker lips until I say so. Got it?"
"Go to hell," Paulie hissed between clenched teeth. He wanted Grant. That much was true. He just hadn't imagined the scenario playing out this way. Though he knew it really should come as no surprise, since he'd made it almost impossible for Grant to take him any other way. The problem was, Paulie had pretty much fooled himself into believing that he'd be able to keep tight rein over the situation. Control it . . . and Grant. Seemed kinda funny to him right then, as he lay there on the bed practically eating the soiled sheets. "You want my ass? You can't even look me in the face. You're pathetic . . . even now . . . all ashamed of yourself . . . "
A heavy blow fell across the back of Paulie's head, a strike so brutal his vision clouded for more than a few moments. He quieted, blinking in vain to chase away the blinking white spots that swam before his eyes. And then, gradually, Paulie felt himself slip away. A peaceful nothingness engulfed him, slowly, pleasantly. Until there was nothing left but a sea of black and the distant sound of breath coming in huffs behind him. This was nice . . . this place where Paulie didn't have to think and didn't have to feel. Blanketed in the warmth of this dark womb, he could forget who he was and the terrible things that he'd done. Vaguely, Paulie wondered if he was dying. If so, death was not quite so horrific as he'd imagined.
When next his heavy lids fluttered open, Paulie found himself staring up into Grant's face. The man's brilliant blue eyes were wide with shock, his usually smooth and unblemished face creased with worry. What had happened? Paulie raised his hand and rubbed at his forehead. His skull throbbed. He'd been hit. Yes, that was it. Grant had clocked him in the head. It took Paulie several seconds to recall what had happened, but when he did, he still couldn't muster the energy to feel anger. Not with those big eyes gazing down at him, so full of regret and tenderness. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Paulie's mouth. Grant was leaning down over him.
"Jesus, Paulie . . . Why do you keep provoking me? No one's ever pushed my buttons the way you do." The words were barely audible, little more than a hoarse whisper.
A reply came to mind almost immediately, despite the fog that lingered in Paulie's mind. He wanted to say it plainly, to tell Grant, "It's because I don't know how to love you." But he couldn't bring himself to say it. A statement like that would make him a walking clich, wouldn't it? He didn't want to come off like some bad, made for television movie character. This was his life. It was real. Nothing would wrap up neatly in an hour's time. Instead, he mumbled back softly, posing his own question. "Why don't you shut up and kiss me?"
Grant hesitated, reluctant to believe what he was hearing, but the deep line between his finely shaped brows smoothed slightly. "What?"
"Don't make me say it again, Grant . . . Just do it." Paulie snaked an arm up over Grant's shoulder and let his fingers wander into the other's blonde waves. "No apologies."
The detective gave a slight nod, as if he understood the exact meaning of Paulie's words. He lowered his head, until his firm, red lips were mere centimeters from Paulie's. Their eyes locked, both unwilling to shut out the other's face. And then, finally, Grant's mouth was playing over his with a tenderness Paulie had never known. They teased and nipped, spreading warmth through Paulie's belly --- forcing the blood to race to his cock. He parted his own plump lips with a sigh, craving the feel of the other's tongue, gliding against his own. Grant didn't need any further prompting. He groaned and plunged his tongue inside. Both hands cupping Paulie's head, holding it steady as they devoured one another. I've never been kissed before now, Paulie thought to himself, and he meant it.
Grant leaned not just his body, but his soul, into the kiss he'd been dying for all these long deprived days. His tongue delving deeper, desperate to slake the thirst that parched him, to drink in the taste of this boy he craved so badly that he'd been willing to rape and plunder just to sate himself. It overwhelmed him, to know that Paulie wanted him anyway, in spite of all that had passed between them. He could feel it in the way the boy's smooth lips slid against his own, the way his jaw worked hungrily to suck Grant ever deeper into his hot wet mouth.
The passion coursing through his lean muscled body made the detective want to take the boy quickly, satisfy the incredible need to bury his engorged cock inside Paulie's tight ass. He knew there would be no protest, knew his entry would be welcomed now. But Grant drew back, licking lightly at the corners of Paulie's full bruised lips, then kissing him with a gentleness that was almost chaste. On his voluptuous mouth, on the side of his slender face, above one finely shaped brow, Moretti pressed soft kisses.
Paulie whimpered beneath him, and where their hips pressed close Grant could feel a shiver run through the other's slim body as though he'd been exposed to a sudden arctic wind. He could take the roughness, Grant realized, but it was the tenderness that was melting Paulie in his arms. The boy's hands clutched at his broad shoulders, slid down to his biceps, holding on tightly as he let Moretti take him to places he'd never been. As Grant's hands tangled in his long hair and their mouths worked their way back to each other, he could feel Paulie's dick stiffen and jerk against his stomach, hear the frantic desire in his stifled cry.
Grant was afraid that words might cheapen what he felt, or even worse, that they would come out wrong as they so often had between the two of them. But Moretti murmured the boy's name anyway. "Paulie," he whispered hoarsely, kissing his way to the boy's ear and mustering every bit of his self control to slow the pace of their lovemaking.
Almost as though he was afraid of what he might hear, Paulie twisted in his arms, pressing his mouth to Grant's as though to silence him, thrusting his hips upward to grind his swollen dick against the other man's. For a moment, Grant thought he would lose it right there, in the wave of pleasure washing over him from the friction, and from feeling such undeniable evidence of Paulie's arousal. Grant groaned deeply, yet pulled away from their kiss, raising himself on one arm so he could see the other's face. "Paulie?" he said again, surprised at the emotion in his own voice. The boy's eyes were tightly closed, his _expression suddenly anguished. Moretti realized for the first time just how frightened Paulie was. Not of sex --- that he'd made into his very means of survival. But of feeling. And yet, even before the boy reluctantly opened his eyes, Grant knew how much emotion he would see there.
"Tell me what you want, Paulie," he urged.
To die, right here and now, Paulie thought as he drank in Grant's flushed complexion and heavy lidded stare with greedy eyes. But how could he possibly respond to any question, just then? So intoxicated by the other's kisses, by the weight and heat of his hard body, all coherent thought escaped him. The crude expressions that came to mind wouldn't do this moment justice. No. If spoken, they might just break the spell that held them both enthralled. They might only serve to remind Grant that he was making it with a dirty street whore. Paulie couldn't risk that. Knew he wouldn't be able to stand it, if Grant suddenly stopped looking at him with such compassion and desire.
"Everything."
One word. That was all Paulie could manage, and as it was, that one word caught in his throat. Hoping that he could articulate more with his actions than his words, Paulie held the other's gaze and wrapped his full lips around the finger that had been tracing along the curves of his mouth. Like a babe hanging from his mother's tit, he sucked. Drawing hard on the digit, as it began to glide rhythmically, in and out, between his puckered lips.
Paulie's mind wandered back to the night he'd taken Moretti's swollen cock in his mouth. The night they'd been together in the kitchen, before Lisa's call had interrupted their clumsy attempt at sex. Until this very second, that instance had been the closest Paulie had ever come to caving --- to letting himself have what he most wanted. Now, looking back, Paulie felt no anger over what had transpired. There was only a sense of undeniable longing. He closed his eyes, remembering what it'd been like to nuzzle against Grant's moist ball-sack, remembering what it had been like to smother himself with the scent of the man's sweat and feel his coarse pubic hairs rubbing against his face.
The night he'd sucked Grant off, he'd been able to tell exactly when the man was about to cum. Not only by the desperate noises he made, but by the way his already-stiff dick expanded even further in his mouth. Eagerly, Paulie had opened his throat to the other's cum. He'd been so hungry for the taste of it . . . Just as hungry as he was now.
Groaning, Paulie opened his eyes again, as if to reassure himself that this was really happening. That Grant was making love to him . . . and it wasn't some figment of his warped imagination.
Without speaking a word, Grant withdrew his finger and trailed it down over Paulie's chin. Sliding it over his bare chest, til the wet fingertip was tracing circles around Paulie's tight nipple. Teasing it, pinching the hard nub between his fingers and twisting. Fuck. He was too excited. Overwhelmed. Could feel a trickle of warm cum leak from the head of his cock and pool on his belly. "Ohgod . . . Grant . . . you need . . .to get out of those clothes."
"Do I?" The finger was moving slowly now, down over Paulie's quivering stomach.
"I want to taste you first." His voice deep and breathy, Grant's eyes followed the path of his finger intently. When he came to the droplets of cum that had formed on Paulie's skin, Grant dipped his finger into the cooling fluid and smeared it against his pale abdomen. The intimate touch made Paulie's cock jerk. Gasping, he tightened his fingers in Grant's hair. Feeling suddenly vulnerable. Exposed. The sex Paulie had become accustomed to was always about the other person. The one paying for the fuck --- or in Thad's case, the one he was giving his ass to, as a means to an end. As a general rule though, Paulie didn't give himself away. Not ALL of himself. He gave his body, but the body was empty. HE was sealed off, protected behind sturdy walls. Hidden where no one could reach him . . . and no one could hurt him.
Grant moved his slick finger to the tip of Paulie's cock and rubbed it against the drooling pee slit. Never averting his eyes. So focused on the task at hand, it seemed that perhaps he'd never observed a weeping cock before, save his own. And maybe he hadn't? Paulie could only guess at the detective's past, since nothing of it had been offered. In a sense, the thought that Grant hadn't been quite this way with any other man, was a comfort. It made him feel less alone in this new territory.
While Paulie watched, Grant raised his glistening finger up to his mouth and licked tentatively. A strange noise catching in the man's throat as the flavor of cum coated his tastebuds. Something between a growl and a moan. And then, before Paulie even realized what was about to happen, he was in Grant's mouth. Encased in a feverish, wet grip. "Fuck . . . fuck . . . ahhhh . . . Grant . .
Paulie's tormented body responded as if it had a mind of its own. His bony hips bucked upward off the mattress. Felt so . . . good . . . too good. He was frantic to bury his dick deep in Grant's hot, sucking mouth. The detective grabbed hold of his hips and pinned them down against the bed. Not allowing Paulie the opportunity of further movement. Only the mouth moved . . . the strong lips . . . and the hot, lashing tongue. On and on Grant went, slurping and sucking. Driving Paulie to heights he'd never dreamt possible, not even in his most heated adolescent fantasies. It was more than he knew how to tolerate.
Paulie's mind reeled, as his body struggled. Scary. It was so fucking scary for Paulie to have such little control. To be at Grant's mercy like this . . .