PART NINE

Clutching at his drooping and frayed cut-offs, Paulie bounded down the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, until he hit the sidewalk out in front of Grant's apartment building. His mind reeled -- a tangle of conflicting emotions. Angry, he was fucking angry...though he wasn't sure just why. He hesitated for a moment, in an attempt to rein in his raging emotions, placing both palms flat against the brick building. Paulie hung his head and sucked in a deep breath. Why the fuck was he so upset, anyway? He'd laid there on the couch and spread his legs wide. He'd wanted Moretti's touch...had welcomed the man's fingers inside. Had wanted them to explore every inch, each hidden crevice. Who did he have to blame, if not himself? Groaning with disgust, he pressed his forehead against the coarse surface of the building, his hair falling around him, shielding him from the outside world, as he lost himself in thought. What was he so damn afraid of?

A voice at the back of his head spoke up, answering the question he'd posed to himself. Feeling. Paulie was afraid of feeling too much. Moretti was a threat. If Paulie let his guard down, it'd be all too easy for Grant to slip inside. And he couldn't have that, couldn't allow himself to be that vulnerable. Never again. Besides, Moretti didn't even know what the fuck he wanted. He had a woman. A life. Fucker was a COP, of all things.

Paulie sniggered to himself, sarcastically. It was pathetic, when he stopped to think about it. Pathetic how impulsively he'd been behaving. Storming out on Moretti, like some school girl playing hard to get. What the hell had he been expecting from Grant? A promise? A fucking proposal? Paulie had never attempted anything that could be construed as a real relationship, not since Cody, and that had been years ago. He wasn't even sure if he was capable of such a thing now. He was being ridiculous. The only thing he was adept in, was taking. Using.

With that thought, an image of Thad came to mind. Almost immediately, his stomach knotted. Ohgod. Thad... How the fuck had things gone so wrong? He'd never wanted to hurt the guy. Not like that. He might have been a crazy bastard, but he wasn't evil. Not really. Everyone had their breaking point, didn't they? Their limit? Paulie had toyed with him for far too long. He should have left Thad, the second the other had professed having real feelings for him. But no... Instead he'd driven the sorry fuck to lunacy. It was his fault. All of it. And now, Paulie had nowhere to turn. No place to run, if he left Grant's. Without the detective's help, he was screwed. It would be impossible for Paulie to dig his way out of the horrible mess he'd made, alone.

Muttering obscenities beneath his breath, Paulie kicked the brick facing before him. There was nothing left for him to do, but go back upstairs with his tail between his legs. Go eat some shit and tell Moretti he was sorry. It wouldn't be easy, to set his pride aside, but it was necessary.

He'd already begun to prepare himself, mentally, for the inevitable sniveling, when Grant's tentative voice interrupted, making him flinch involuntarily. "Paulie?"

Blinking his lashes, pale eyes wide with surprise, Paulie spun around to face the detective. Perhaps Grant would make this easier on him, than he initially expected? "What? Whaddya want?" He had control of his voice, had managed to spit his words out with indignance, but inside, Paulie was a bundle of nerves. His slender hands wandered to the hem of his blouse, and twisted the filmy material, anxiously. Gaze fixed on Moretti, with anticipation.

"You can't stand out here dressed like that. You're going to draw attention to yourself." Grant crossed the threshold, and ambled down the front steps. Slowly. Cutting the distance between them with a cautious gait.

"So? What? You gonna kick me off the fucking sidewalk, now?" Inwardly, Paulie cringed, realizing that he was sounding more like a wounded child, than the hard-edged young man he wanted so desperately to present himself as. But fuck... Moretti had a physical effect on him. His wavy blond hair glimmered, as he stepped up beside Paulie. And those wide eyes - they made him feel weak, unable to turn away. A lump formed in Paulie's throat and he felt as if he couldn't breathe - felt as if he were drowning, in the deep blue of those eyes. God, he ached. The man made his heart hurt. And Paulie despised that about him.

Moretti shook his head. "No...I want you to come back inside. We need to talk, Paulie. We can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" Haughtily, Paulie flipped his straggly hair back away from his face. Wondering if he was fooling Grant at all, or if every practiced gesture was as transparent as it suddenly seemed.

Sighing, Grant lifted one work-toughened hand to Paulie's cheek, tracing over the sharp edge of his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. "You know what... All this cat and mouse shit. I'm trying to be your friend. But I can't help you Paulie, not unless you trust me...at least a little."

Paulie nuzzled against the palm of Moretti's hand, wishing that for just a short while, he could forget all pretenses and allow himself the luxury of Grant's comfort. He studied Moretti silently for what seemed several long seconds, unable to speak. What was it he saw, on the other man's face? Compassion? Fear to match his own? Lust? Grant was staring at him intently, but the look was indecipherable. And anyway, did it really matter? He needed Moretti. Wasn't it enough, for now, that the detective had come after him?

Nodding, Paulie finally found his voice. "But if I trust you, you have to trust me." With that, he maneuvered his head slightly to the side, and pressed his pillow-like lips against the palm of Moretti's hand, finding it tacky with sweat. Boldly running the tip of his tongue over Grant's salty skin, savoring its unique taste. Watching the other man's reaction, all too aware of the effect he was having on the detective. It was a relief to see, they were on equal ground. Both craving. Wanting. Paulie still had a shot at gaining the upper hand, if he could just keep himself under control.

Holding Moretti's gaze, Paulie flicked his tongue up over Grant's palm to the tip of his finger, grabbing the man's wrist with one hand, as he swallowed the digit. Sucking. His tongue bathing it in warm saliva, swirling languidly. Drawing it in and out, until Grant's own lips parted wantonly. When he had Moretti in the state he'd wanted him in, Paulie pulled the finger out of his mouth, letting it slip down over his bottom lip and chin, sloppily - tucking it inside his shirt, so that the wet fingertip was covering his own nipple. The contact was like a jolt of electricity.

Grant moaned with frustration. "Dammit, Paulie... Stop. Don't make me want you any more than I already do, just so you can push me away again."

"Have you decided yet, which of us is the cat?" A wicked grin spread over Paulie's angular face and he abruptly dropped Moretti's hand with a dramatic sigh. "I want to stay, Grant. Don't make me leave...I have nowhere to go. Trust me enough to let me stay with you awhile longer?" He folded his arms across his narrow chest, one hip jutting forward suggestively, as he watched Grant struggle with himself. "If you want me to trust you, it has to be a two way street."

"What is it with you, Paulie? You come on strong, when you want something. And then...then you get offended, when I take the bait. I don't understand. Do you really think you have to get me hot, in order for me to want to help you? Is that what you think of me?" Grant's face grew flushed as he spoke, his voice wavering. "You don't have to pretend you want me anymore. Okay? In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't."

"Yeah, you wanna know what I think? I think you're avoiding the fucking question. You don't want me to stay, do you?" Paulie scowled. "And as far as what I think of you. I don't think anything. I barely know you. Didn't we already go over this? Didn't you just inform me, a few minutes ago, that I didn't KNOW you?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Paulie. Reasoning with you, is like reasoning with a two year old." Moretti clasped his hand around one bony arm, tight enough to make Paulie yelp in protest, and began dragging him toward the front door. "Come on, let's go...but there are going to be rules. Urgh. I can't fucking believe I'm doing this."

Like a limp rag doll, Paulie allowed himself to be escorted back up to the detective's apartment. Tripping over his own clumsy feet, he resisted the urge to object and shove Grant away. Once inside, Moretti gave him a hard shove, forcing him to tumble down onto the couch, hair flying wildly. "Fucking jerk...you like that, eh? Dragging me around, cracking me in the face? Yeah. You think I'd forget that?"

"Shut up, Paulie. Shut your trashy mouth for a minute, would you? I'm not interested in sparring with you, right now. We have more important things to take care of, don't we?" Moretti sank down into the nearby chair, wearily. His temper strained.

"What, your stupid rules?" He stretched out on the couch, as if he owned it, propping up his head with one hand as he wriggled his brows, and treated Grant to a lopsided grin. "Let's see... Don't steal? Don't do drugs? No loud parties?"

Moretti rubbed his hands over his face, groaning into them so that his words came out muffled. "No, Paulie. I need that address..."

***************

Once Grant had left for work, Paulie found himself bored. Not unhappily bored, since he was free to roam through Moretti's apartment all by his lonesome. But he actually found himself missing Grant, and the tension between them. It kept him filled with uncertainty, this new...friendship...or whatever it was supposed to be. Paulie never knew what kind of shit he might blurt out or attempt around the other man, let alone what Moretti might be coaxed into doing. Without the good detective skulking about, the apartment seemed entirely too empty.

Paulie had given Moretti his old address, and he supposed he should feel somewhat anxious about what Moretti would find -- what the dilapidated old place might look like, through Grant's spoilt, materialistic eyes. But right now, he didn't want to think too hard on that. Yesterday seemed a million miles away. All of it did. Even the whoring. Though, he couldn't help but wonder, offhandedly, what Grant's reaction would be, if Thad's bloody clump of a body was still laying there, amidst all the clutter. However, Moretti had assured him, they'd talk about it in detail, later on. And that was enough for Paulie. He just wanted to be done with the whole ordeal. Besides, Grant couldn't have made it to detective without seeing his fair share of bullshit.

Instead of waiting on pins and needles, Paulie cracked open a bottle of Black Velvet he found in one of the kitchen cabinets and settled down to watch shitty daytime television. He wasn't a fan of the liquor, wasn't even much of a drinker, but he decided he deserved it. Deserved to forget and ease his boredom in the process.

After more than half a dozen swigs, Paulie decided he'd had enough of the television set -- that he should be using his time more a bit more productively. What Paulie really wanted to do, was snoop. Sure, it was probably against the blessed rules of the house, but what the fuck? It couldn't hurt anything...and he had absolutely no intention of thieving a single dime from Grant. He was just...curious. Wanted to know more about the man. No. Everything. He wanted to know everything about Grant. And wasn't it true, that Moretti was probably going through HIS dirty laundry at that very moment? Fair was fair, after all...

Staggering, Paulie made his way down the hall to Grant's bedroom. Feeling much like he was treading on foresaken ground, he gave the white-washed door a sturdy push and entered, carrying the bottle of Black Velvet along with him for company. While surveying the room, he found himself taken aback by how sterile, how impersonal, it seemed. It barely looked lived in, except for the bed. The bed was still unmade, adorned with a twisted heap of sheets and blankets. Paulie huffed to himself. So, this was the room where Moretti fucked his woman... He was a bit taken back at how much the thought irked him. Was he jealous? Hell no, he lied to himself. Not of some stupid chick. Paulie raised the bottle to his lips, wrapped them around the neck of the bottle and gulped, letting the fiery liquid dribble down over his chin. His eyes rested on a small framed picture on Grant's night stand. Smirking, he went over to have a closer look. Oh, nice. Moretti and Lisa. Just what he wanted to see. He narrowed his eyes, sizing the woman in the photograph up for a moment.

"Oops." Paulie giggled to himself and knocked the picture face down, then flopped on top Grant's bed. "Yeah...that's much better."

Closing his eyes, Paulie inhaled. The scent of the other man still clung to the stagnant air. He groaned faintly, sliding his free hand up over his hollowed stomach, to the nipple that Grant's fingers had rested on earlier. Absentmindedly stroking, until it tightened into a hard peak. Fuck. Had he ever been so horny, in all his life? Paulie doubted it. He couldn't recall wanting anyone, the way he wanted Grant. Denying himself was masochistic - sheer fucking torture.

He was still laying there, mulling over whether or not he should get himself off in Grant's bed, when he heard the door to the apartment creak open.

"Grant? Grant, you still here? You left the t.v. on." The distinctly feminine voice chided, as light footsteps advanced.

Ohgod...HER? It had to be. This was almost too good to be true. Biting down on his lower lip to suppress the smile that threatened, Paule wriggled out of the worn, baggy denims and kicked them down by the jumble of sheets at the foot of Grant's bed. He sprawled out on his back, swollen cock laying against his belly. One knee bent, he cradled his head with an arm -- forcing all expression from his face, though he laid there feeling quite smug. Waiting for the inescapable confrontation.

"Grant, you in here?" Without hesitation, the woman bounced into the bedroom. Though Paulie couldn't see her, he could hear her draw in a deep breath, then stammer softly, as if to herself, "jeeeezuss...ahhh...urm...excuse me."

Before she could flee, Paulie's eyes fluttered open and he grinned lazily, stretching out on the mattress as if he were waking his sleep-stiffened muscles. He made no attempt to conceal his nudity, as he spoke. "Hey, there."

Instinctively, the curvaceous brunette shielded her eyes with one delicate hand, "where's Grant?" The skin beneath her was a bright red. "Who ARE you? And what are you doing in Grant's room?"

"The name's Paulie, nice to meet you, too." Inching his way toward the edge of the bed, his dick bobbing between his skinny thighs as he settled himself, Paulie regarded the woman before him. Though she was peering through her jewel adorned fingers, uncomfortably, he could see she was rather attractive. Better looking than even her picture suggested. Her clothes reeked of money. What the hell was she wearing, a silk print dress? What a fucking princess."Who are YOU?"

"I'm Grant's fiancee." She huffed indignantly. "Would you mind terribly? I'd rather carry on this conversation when you're dressed." The woman turned to leave, her embarrassment obvious, as was her irritation.

"What? Don't tell me you've never seen a hard cock before. I mean, you ARE Grant's FIANCEE, after all. And we know how GRANT can be, don't we?" Paulie cackled, grabbing for his discarded shorts, ripping them on as she turned her dark eyes on him, glaring.

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Grinning mischievously, Paulie slunk up alongside her, deliberately invading her personal space with his sinewy body. "What do you THINK it means?"

"Look, I don't know who you are, or what you're doing here...but I'm going to go call Grant. I hardly think he'll be pleased about this...display of yours." Her lips trembled, making her seem vulnerable, despite her facade of confidence.

"Hmm. Okay. You do that. Go call Grant...tell him I said hello," Paulie reached over and twined a lock of her curly brown hair around his finger. "Tell him I enjoyed sucking on his dick last night. And if he picks up some food for me, on the way home, I'd be more than happy to service him again."

The woman's painted lips flew open with shock. Paulie wasn't certain exactly what he'd been expecting, but when he felt her firm slap across the side of his face, he wasn't astounded. No, not at all. He was, in fact, only encouraged further. He wanted to hate her, needed to. And thus far, she was making the endeavor effortless. Reaching to rub his stinging cheek with the palm of his hand, Paulie's lips twisted into a snarl. His blue-gray eyes cold as ice, slicing through her reserve like a knife through melted butter. "Bitch."

This time, when she raised her hand, Paulie was prepared. He gripped her forearm, tightening his fingers around it mercilessly as he flung her slight body across the room with ease. She tumbled to the carpeted floor, legs twisting painfully beneath her. In an instant, Paulie was on top of her, straddling her wide hips. He backhanded her, as hard as he could. "You wanna fucking hit someone? Huh? Huh? That what you wanna do?"

"Get OFF me! Bastard!" Manicured nails reached up to rake at his skin, succeeding before he could slap her hands away and pin them to the floor. Her body bucked between his legs, in a vain attempt to escape.

"Shhhh...shhhh....keep that mouth of yours shut, or I'll have to gag you. Wouldn't want that, would we?" He laid his body flat on top of hers and nuzzled at her neck, whispering against her ear, "besides, you might actually like this, eh?" Paulie shifted his weight, clasping both her wrists with one hand, while the other wandered down to one of the woman's heaving breasts. He cupped its fullness through the thin silk of her dress, kneading gently. "I wanna know why he's fucking you... Wanna know why he thinks he has to hold on to you so fucking tightly."

Paulie squeezing her tit hard enough to make her sob, then fumbled with the buttons at the front of her dress and pulled the front open -- ripping her bra up over her pale breasts, watching as they jiggled free.

"Please...don't do this..." She pleaded, her chocolate eyes wide as saucers, glistening with tears. Her helplessness was exciting, a bit intoxicating even. Paulie had never wanted a woman before. This was different. No. This was insanity...and he knew it. When the first stream trickled from the corner of her eye, Paulie bent his head close and licked, aching to taste her fear.

The woman cringed noticeably, whimpering as he trailed his tongue down over her smooth cheek, to her lips. Darting the tip over her glossed mouth, he moaned, pinching and rolling one of her nipples between this thumb and index finger. "Don't be afraid. I'm not gonna hurt you, baby. Not unless I have to. I just wanna fuck you. You like being fucked, don't you?"

"Grant's going to kill you when he finds out." She murmured, her statement sounding more like a question. It was as if, perhaps, she was being to doubt herself -- her own judgment.

"Mmmm? You think?" His face hovered just above hers for a long moment, "you don't have to tell him." Paulie kissed her, then. Crushing his mouth down over hers, hard enough to bruise her tender lips. Tongue prying its way inside, delving deep, exploring as his hand roamed freely over her body. He gathered her skirt and began hiking it up over her thighs -- eager to have his hand between her legs, fingers buried up inside her pussy. The mere thought was making his cock throb.

His fingers were working their way beneath the elastic at the crotch of her lacy panties, when she made an attempt to twist away and clamp her thighs shut. "You can't...wait... Stop!"

"Come on, just let me feel you." Paulie raked his teeth down over her neck, moving lower as he struggled to hold her in place beneath him.

"You don't understand," she cried, searching for words of explanation, "I've...I just got my period, this morning."

"Yeah? I don't fucking care." And he didn't. This new bit of knowledge didn't deter him in the slightest. His mind had been made up, since the moment she'd slapped his face.

Bowing his head, Paulie traced her exposed nipple with his tongue, then sucked it between his lips, firmly. Drawing at it like a nursing babe while his finger brushed against her moist pubic hairs, fingers fumbling around inside her flimsy underwear until they found her clit. Much as he'd done with her hard nipple, he gave her clit a light pinch, then rolled it between his fingers. Massaging slowly, gently. Wanting her to like it, and bear the guilt of that. Groaning with her tit in his wide mouth, he wiggled one digit lower, between her damp lips, where a thin cotton string dangled decadently from her cunt.

"What the fuck?" Paulie lifted his head and glanced down between their bodies, tugging at the string, "what's this?"

"I told you." Averting her eyes, "I have my period." She was breathless now, flushed and no longer trying to fight him off. Very slowly, Paulie wound the string around his finger and pulled; dragging the thick wad of cotton out of her pussy. Once it fell from between her parted lips, he tossed it aside without giving it a glance, then brought his hand back between her thighs and began pushing his finger up into her slick pussy. "Ohshit, ohfuck...it's hot in there..." Paulie's jaw dropped as he shoved deeper, breath ragged, "ride it. Show me how you like it."

Obeying, the woman rocked her hips, meeting every thrust of his jabbing finger, tossing her head to the side, "ohpleaaase..." Paulie didn't know if it was another plea for him to stop, or an encouragement to continue. He didn't care. He yanked his finger out, abruptly and unfastened the front of his shorts, bloodying the denim in the process. Fuck. She hadn't been kidding, when she said she was bleeding. Not only was his finger a mess, the hot syrupy fluid had dripped down over his hand. The sight made his cock jerk between the V shaped opening of his jeans. Fucking dirty, he wanted her to be dirty. Paulie reached up and smeared the blood across her cheek, dragging his finger down over her lips. Coating them with blood, as she looked up at him vacantly.

"You look like such a fucking pig. Tell me, you like it? Like being filthy?" He was whispering again, grabbing the base of his cock, guiding his swollen meat until the weeping head was pressed against her slippery hole. Paulie's eyes rolled back and he licked at his own lips, as he lunged his slim hips -- sinking his dick into her hot, juicy cunt. "Fuck...tell me. Ohgod...tell me, you bitch..."

"I...I...like it. Like being filthy. God help me, I do..." Paulie collapsed on top of her, letting her wrists free, so that he could tangle his fingers in her mussed hair, as he sucked at her soiled lips. Fucking her hard and deep, as the coppery taste filled his mouth.

Much to his surprise, her smallish hands went straight to his back and dug long nails into his skin. She arched beneath him, crying out as the muscles inside her pussy clenched rhythmically around his cock, milking the cum from his balls, before he even realized what was happening. Shit. He gulped for air, spurting ropes of hot jizz into her cunt. Motherfucker. He hadn't wanted to cum inside her. But god...felt so good...

Laying on top of her sweat-laced body, Paulie struggled to catch his breath, his cock gradually growing limp in her leaking pussy. What the hell had he just done? Was that rape? It had felt different. Forceful, yes. But criminal? Wordlessly, he rolled off the woman, and laid beside her on the carpet.

"I knew you'd like it." Muttering with a self-assurance he no longer felt, Paulie stole a glimpse of the woman's face. Lisa. Wasn't her name Lisa? She appeared stunned. A blush still spreading over her skin, along with traces of drying blood. He sighed, then raised himself up on both elbows. "Urgh. Man. My dick is a fucking mess. I gotta get cleaned up. You should too, in case Grant comes in."

"Are...are you going to tell Grant?"

"Are YOU?" Raising his eyebrows, Paulie gave a shrug, "I'm taking a shower. You might wanna think about going home and doing the same. You look like shit, too."

Having stated the obvious, Paulie stood and grabbed the stained jean shorts off the floor, heading for the bathroom. Once alone in the small, ceramic-tiled room, he locked the door and immediately reached into the stall to blast the shower, in an attempt to hide his heaving sobs. Loathing what he was, knowing he'd come full circle.

continue...