FIC: "Someone Who Doesn't Judge Me" (NC-17; 2/2)
Title: Someone Who Doesn't Judge Me (complete)
Author: Bernie Laraemie
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Grissom/Paul Milander
Rating: NC-17 (language, sexuality [explicit], minor violence)
Archive: Just let me know where and why and I'll say yes. But
please ask permission.
Email address: bernie_laraemie@yahoo.co.uk
Disclaimers: You know the drill. . ..
Notes: This goes with the ficclet “Peace” if you haven’t read
it already. Mind you, you’ll probably be fine without it. Oh
right, and there’s some naughty words. Suggestion: Elton
John’s “Little Jeannie” may not have been the best choice of
soundtrack to be writing a piece like this to. It it’s sappy, I’m
thinking that’s why.
Summary: Two months after "Identity Crisis" Grissom is visited
by a "ghost". (Re-write of "Cold November Rain")
Warnings: Sex, violence & language.
Relaxing into it, Paul put his hand on Gil’s shoulder, leaning on it lightly. He dipped his tongue between Gil’s teeth, pushing against him and picking up the pace. Gil moved his hands, managing to undo some of the buttons on Paul’s shirt before he broke off the kiss.
“Gil,” he said, opening his eyes. “I . . ..” He choked a little, and his hand tremoured slightly. “I . . ..”
“Paul, you don’t have to say anything,” he replied.
Troubled, he looked away for just a minute, conflict passing over his face before he looked back and again pressed his mouth to Gil’s.
Putting his weight carefully against Gil, Paul moved to kiss Gil’s neck, shifting supporting hands to tilt his head just enough. He sucked the skin gently, biting him slightly every so often.
Gil inhaled sharply, moving his hands back to Paul’s shirt, hampered by the distraction.
“Gil,” Paul repeated, making it a wannabe-question, “I . . .you won’t. . ..” He stopped, rolling his eyes at his own inability to voice his concerns. “I know you won’t, but I j-just want to h-hear it from you, as it were,” he said trailing off.
“If there’s a problem-”
“No,” Paul said cutting him off. “No, there won’t be, I . . .I’m j-just p-paranoid,” he said, frowning at himself. As Gil undid the last button, Paul sat back momentarily, grabbing hold of the blanket that had sat quietly at the end of the bed, minding its own business. He threw it over himself, and then leaned back over Gil.
“You could have just turned out the light,” Gil said.
Paul shrugged. “The blanket was closer than the light switch.” Under the cover of the blanket, Paul took off his shirt, more at ease the makeshift dark.
“Just lean back a little,” Gil said, shifting against the spread and pillows, awkwardly managing to pull off his own top. He fell once or twice, but pretended not to notice.
“Are you. . ..” Paul itched the back of his neck, and tried his question again. “Are you okay with th-this?”
“Would I have let you get this far if I wasn’t?” Gil asked, pointing to the 9mm that still lay on the night table.
“Maybe that’s what I needed to hear from you,” Paul replied. He leaned back down for another kiss, snaking one of his hands down Gil’s chest to the waistband of his pants. “I’d tell you that you have pretty eyes, but I’m not sure how you’d take it,” he offered lightly.
“I’d take it very well,” Gil said with a smile. He gasped and his eyes shut, Paul’s hand slipping inside his pants.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Paul watched Gil’s expressions, reading him, before moving to lick Gil’s cheek.
“God,” Gil breathed, shucking off the remainder of his clothes. His tongue glided along his own lips, and he pushed head back into the pillow.
Paul watched him, almost with a look that one might use when watching an alien or other foreign creature, before pulling his hand away. “Sorry,” he said by way of apology. He fumbled in the dark a moment. “You won’t. . .” his voice trailed, “you won’t. . .” he repeated. “I mean, I-I,” he stammered, “I just don’t, that is, I h-haven’t-”
“I’m not sure what you’re fearing, but I won’t do it.” Gil gave him intense look that even slowed his own racing heart a little. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, and that still stands.”
Paul nodded, undressing himself. Gil couldn’t see in the shadows of the blanket, and to help Paul’s confidence, he didn’t even try to. “I’ve always been self-c-conscious,” Paul said, his supporting arm shaking.
“That’s entirely understandable,” Gil said with sympathy. “If you want to go slower, it’s up to you. I want you to be comfortable.”
Paul shifted position, reaching back to Gil’s cock. “Why slow down now?”
Gil felt himself tense, and forced himself to relax. “That makes sense,” he agreed.
Licking his fingers, he touched Gil again. “Do you trust me?”
Gil was a little affronted by the question, under the circumstances. “That’s a multi-faceted question.”
“Maybe.” Paul gave Gil a short kiss. “Right now, in this instance, do you trust me?”
Gil paused. “Yes.”
Paul nodded, pushing Gil’s cock inside himself a little. “Okay.” He pushed further, wincing at a sharp pain that quickly subsided.
“Are you all right?”
Paul laughed a little. “I’m not going to b-break,” he assured. He cupped a hand over Gil’s ear and hair, kissing him while pushing back.
“But-”
“I’m fine, Gil, I p-promise,” Paul said, paying little attention to his words and more on what he was doing. “Just tell me how I’m doing,” he said between gasps.
“Wonderful,” he breathed. He put his arms around Paul, pulling himself up to kiss him. Sighing as Paul started a little faster, Gil moved his hand closer to Paul’s waist.
“No,” Paul said, stopping and pinning the straying limb to the bed.
“I-”
“Please, just don’t,” he said firmly.
Gil nodded. “All right.” Before he could respond, Paul pushed Gil back to the bed, knocking his breath out of him momentarily. “Fuck,” Gil said under his breath.
“You know, it’s b-been awhile since I’ve done this,” Paul said, pushing his teeth and lips against Gil’s neck.
“Well, it’s excellent,” he commented. “Just keeping doing it,” he said between gasps for air.
Paul nodded, pushing harder. “All right,” he said.
Gil’s grip on the back of Paul’s neck tightened as he gulped and tensed, “Fuck,” he repeated. With a moan, he tensed and relaxed as he came.
“Paul,” he said quietly. “Thank you,” he added with a smile.
Paul traced a finger through Gil’s hair. “Thank you,” he replied. He moved off of Gil, stretching out next to him and making sure the blanket was still over both of them. Paul looked at Gil, and then laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” Gil asked, a little hazy.
Paul shrugged, smiling. “The whole. . .” he gestured a vague circle, “everything,” he finished. He laughed a little more, oddly close to a giggle. “Don’t mind me,” he said.
“You’re acting like that blanket is life-support,” Gil said.
“Hmm?”
“You’re holding on to the blanket tightly,” he reiterated.
“Oh,” Paul said, releasing it a little. “It’s been a long time since . . .since anyone’s seen me naked.”
“Your wife?”
Paul shrugged, looking away. “We didn’t . . .well, I w-won’t say w-we never, but it was rare and. . .” Paul squirmed, uncomfortable with the topic. “It wasn’t often,” he said.
“You never told her,” Gil said, appalled, but he wasn’t sure at what.
“Not so much the whole story,” Paul said, “but I never told her I was. . ..”
“How long were you married?”
“Thirteen years.” Paul coughed, a coping mechanism. “I told her I had a genetic disorder. I told her that pretty early on . . .I told h-her I didn’t mind if she . . .if she . . .went to other p-people,” he explained. “As long as she was discreet about it.”
“And you?”
Paul looked away and didn’t answer the question. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“All right.”
Paul moved to sit at the side of the bed, careful to keep his back to Gil.
“What are you doing?” Gil asked curiously.
“Getting dressed,” he answered.
“Why?”
“Because I prefer my clothes on.”
Gil sat up. “Just for a little while, leave them off.”
Paul didn’t respond.
“You can turn out the light if you’re more comfortable that way.” Sugar in his voice, he continued, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Paul shivered slightly, sitting a minute before standing to turn out the light. Waiting until it was off, Gil stood, walking over to him. “And relax a little,” he added, placing a hand on Paul’s forearm and motioning circles softly. “Are you comfortable?”
“No.”
“Do you mind this, then?”
Paul paused a moment, his eyes adjusting quickly to the light level. “No.”
Gil moved his hand nearing Paul’s thigh, and didn’t move when Paul went to push it away. “Let me touch you,” he asked.
After a minute, Paul moved the blocking hand away. Before doing anything further, Gil put his other hand in Paul’s hair, stepping closer for a kiss. With him distracted sufficiently, Gil moved his hand, putting his fingers carefully between Paul’s legs.
Gil stepped back a little, his hand unmoved. “I have to be honest-I don’t really know if what I’m doing is working.”
“It is,” Paul said between gasps.
“As long as you know that,” Gil said. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Paul said.
“All right.” With strategic foot planning, Gil went from standing to kneeling. He touched Paul, then leaned in to put his lips around Paul’s cock.
Paul shuddered, putting his hands in Gil’s hair. “Shit,” he whispered.
Honestly frightened about using his teeth, Gil instead used his tongue. He licked the short length of skin, aware of the sensitivity but knowing little beyond that. Feeling Paul’s hands clench in his hair, Gil put it back in his mouth, cautiously sucking.
Paul pushed him away carefully. “Could we sit down?” he said suddenly. “I’d j-just. . .just rather not fall over,” he finished with a small laugh.
Gil stood, noticing that Paul’s legs were shaking. “Of course. You can lie down,” he said. He waited for him, moving to the bed himself, and knelt between his legs. “If I’m doing something wrong . . ..”
“It’s great,” Paul said, sputtering a little.
He slid his tongue along his cock, relishing the opportunity to explore another facet of biology-the differently sexed and effects of surgery. Maybe using Paul as a guinea pig or study wasn’t the most flattering thing he could do, but Paul didn’t seem to notice-or care.
Gil brought his fingers along Paul’s inner thigh, stroking him there gently before moving his hand higher. Cautiously, he pushed two fingers inside of him, slowly, as he licked the end of Paul’s cock.
Paul crossed his hands over his chest, holding himself tightly, and moaning. It took every ounce of concentration he had to keep himself relaxed, and to keep himself from scurrying away from Gil.
“Shit,” Paul repeated, breathing rapidly through clenched teeth. He called Gil’s name under his breath, then let out an odd falsetto-ed whimper, as he came, putting his hands back to Gil’s hair.
He shuddered, and sat up immediately, pulling the previously discarded blanket over his bent legs. He held it to his chest, looking away from Gil, appearing both elated and depressed.
“Gil,” he started, “would . . .” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Would you hold me?” he said, managing to look at Gil.
Crawling the short way between them, Gil sat behind Paul, putting his arms around him. Releasing his grip on the blanket a little, Paul leaned on Gil’s shoulder, his eyes serenely closed.
Very still but shivering, Paul traced a finger lazily across Gil’s chest.
“You’re quite the enigma,” Gil said eventually. “I don’t think I’d ever figure you out.”
“You’re welcome to try,” Paul replied with a yawn.
“Sleepy?”
Paul looked to the clock shortly. “Actually, this has been my bedtime recently.” He nestled back into his previous position. “But that doesn’t matter.”
“Do you want to lie down?”
“I’m comfortable here,” he said. “Unless you’re not.”
“This is fine,” Gil said, shifting slightly. “May I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Paul replied.
“I’m just curious-why did you come here?”
Paul turned to look at Gil. “Honestly? I’m . . .I’m not s-sure.” He shrugged, traces of blushing hinting on his face. “I g-guess . . .I guess, since I’ve been so secluded, I needed . . .just someone to talk to.” He turned away. “But honestly, I’m not too sure.”
“You have no one else to talk to?”
“Not really, not anymore. And . . .I’m not the type to k-keep track of people I know.” He smiled weakly. “It’s a destructive habit of m-mine. It’s especially easy to forget people you never really liked.” Paul sighed, sitting upright. “I think my wife was the longest I’d ever known anyone. Maybe she knew more about m-me than she let on.”
“Does she know you’re alive?”
Paul paused. “Yes,” he replied.
“But your marriage was legally terminated with your death certificate.”
“It was . . ..” Paul glanced at his hands. “I explained as much as I c-could to her; she helped me out.” Paul shook his head. “I never thought sex would be important. I m-mean, women don’t usually want it, and I would know,” he added quietly. “With her g-going off now and then to be with her boyfriend . . .it really p-put a hole in things.”
“You felt detached?”
“Nothing makes you feel more impotent than that.”
Gil frowned, putting an arm across Paul’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell her?”
“She knew. I don’t know when, but I’m sure she knew. Maybe she wasn’t s-sure, so she didn’t want to say anything. She was understanding, and always was, and that was the most important thing to me.”
Gil’s fingers strayed to Paul’s ear, stroking it lightly. “It’s an important quality.”
Paul hesitated. “It’s why . . .it’s why I feel so close to you,” he said in a small voice, not daring eye contact. “No one’s ever been so accepting of me.” Paul chanced that matching stare. “And you’ve known more about me than anyone.”
“I hardly know you.”
“You know more pieces of myself than anyone. My wife never knew about my past or my hobbies; my mother never wanted to know anything about me.” Paul kissed Gil lightly. “I’m so grateful for you, even if you don’t know me that w-well.”
Gil smiled, about to speak, when interrupted by his pager. Rolling his eyes, he reached over to the night table drawer and pulled it out. Looking at it, he rolled his eyes again. “They want me to come in early,” Gil said. “Shocking.”
Paul reached for his clothes. “I should get going anyway,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Gil asked, genuinely confused.
“For . . .for, I don’t know.” Paul started dressing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.”
Gil shook his head. “I’m glad you did. I like knowing you’re alive and I enjoyed spending time with you.”
“And what would your friends think?”
Gil glanced to his now silent pager. “They don’t have to know, Paul. They think you’re dead.”
Paul’s lips parted in surprise. “I suppose I don’t have to ask you not to tell anyone I was here.”
“Paul,” Gil began, “what would I tell them?”
Paul smiled. “Ex-exactly.” He stood, now dressed, pulling his 9mm from the nightstand. He turned back. “I enjoyed seeing you again.”
Gil smiled sadly and looked at the calendar. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”
Paul laughed. “Yeah.” He tucked his gun away unseen. “I have to leave,” he said, turning away and walking.
“Wait,” Gil said, standing, dragging the blanket with him. He walked over to where Paul had stopped in front of the door, and pushed him against it, pressing their lips together. He put a hand to Paul’s waist, making sure he didn’t dart away just yet. Paul pushed himself against Gil, forcefully.
Paul broke it off, pulling back. “Goodbye, Gil.”
Gil nodded, biting his lip. “Goodbye, Paul.” He watched as Paul slipped out the bedroom door, and then out of the townhouse. Hearing the click of the door, Gil felt a weight on his chest.
~~~fin~~~
Author: Bernie Laraemie
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Grissom/Paul Milander
Rating: NC-17 (language, sexuality [explicit], minor violence)
Archive: Just let me know where and why and I'll say yes. But
please ask permission.
Email address: bernie_laraemie@yahoo.co.uk
Disclaimers: You know the drill. . ..
Notes: This goes with the ficclet “Peace” if you haven’t read
it already. Mind you, you’ll probably be fine without it. Oh
right, and there’s some naughty words. Suggestion: Elton
John’s “Little Jeannie” may not have been the best choice of
soundtrack to be writing a piece like this to. It it’s sappy, I’m
thinking that’s why.
Summary: Two months after "Identity Crisis" Grissom is visited
by a "ghost". (Re-write of "Cold November Rain")
Warnings: Sex, violence & language.
Relaxing into it, Paul put his hand on Gil’s shoulder, leaning on it lightly. He dipped his tongue between Gil’s teeth, pushing against him and picking up the pace. Gil moved his hands, managing to undo some of the buttons on Paul’s shirt before he broke off the kiss.
“Gil,” he said, opening his eyes. “I . . ..” He choked a little, and his hand tremoured slightly. “I . . ..”
“Paul, you don’t have to say anything,” he replied.
Troubled, he looked away for just a minute, conflict passing over his face before he looked back and again pressed his mouth to Gil’s.
Putting his weight carefully against Gil, Paul moved to kiss Gil’s neck, shifting supporting hands to tilt his head just enough. He sucked the skin gently, biting him slightly every so often.
Gil inhaled sharply, moving his hands back to Paul’s shirt, hampered by the distraction.
“Gil,” Paul repeated, making it a wannabe-question, “I . . .you won’t. . ..” He stopped, rolling his eyes at his own inability to voice his concerns. “I know you won’t, but I j-just want to h-hear it from you, as it were,” he said trailing off.
“If there’s a problem-”
“No,” Paul said cutting him off. “No, there won’t be, I . . .I’m j-just p-paranoid,” he said, frowning at himself. As Gil undid the last button, Paul sat back momentarily, grabbing hold of the blanket that had sat quietly at the end of the bed, minding its own business. He threw it over himself, and then leaned back over Gil.
“You could have just turned out the light,” Gil said.
Paul shrugged. “The blanket was closer than the light switch.” Under the cover of the blanket, Paul took off his shirt, more at ease the makeshift dark.
“Just lean back a little,” Gil said, shifting against the spread and pillows, awkwardly managing to pull off his own top. He fell once or twice, but pretended not to notice.
“Are you. . ..” Paul itched the back of his neck, and tried his question again. “Are you okay with th-this?”
“Would I have let you get this far if I wasn’t?” Gil asked, pointing to the 9mm that still lay on the night table.
“Maybe that’s what I needed to hear from you,” Paul replied. He leaned back down for another kiss, snaking one of his hands down Gil’s chest to the waistband of his pants. “I’d tell you that you have pretty eyes, but I’m not sure how you’d take it,” he offered lightly.
“I’d take it very well,” Gil said with a smile. He gasped and his eyes shut, Paul’s hand slipping inside his pants.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Paul watched Gil’s expressions, reading him, before moving to lick Gil’s cheek.
“God,” Gil breathed, shucking off the remainder of his clothes. His tongue glided along his own lips, and he pushed head back into the pillow.
Paul watched him, almost with a look that one might use when watching an alien or other foreign creature, before pulling his hand away. “Sorry,” he said by way of apology. He fumbled in the dark a moment. “You won’t. . .” his voice trailed, “you won’t. . .” he repeated. “I mean, I-I,” he stammered, “I just don’t, that is, I h-haven’t-”
“I’m not sure what you’re fearing, but I won’t do it.” Gil gave him intense look that even slowed his own racing heart a little. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, and that still stands.”
Paul nodded, undressing himself. Gil couldn’t see in the shadows of the blanket, and to help Paul’s confidence, he didn’t even try to. “I’ve always been self-c-conscious,” Paul said, his supporting arm shaking.
“That’s entirely understandable,” Gil said with sympathy. “If you want to go slower, it’s up to you. I want you to be comfortable.”
Paul shifted position, reaching back to Gil’s cock. “Why slow down now?”
Gil felt himself tense, and forced himself to relax. “That makes sense,” he agreed.
Licking his fingers, he touched Gil again. “Do you trust me?”
Gil was a little affronted by the question, under the circumstances. “That’s a multi-faceted question.”
“Maybe.” Paul gave Gil a short kiss. “Right now, in this instance, do you trust me?”
Gil paused. “Yes.”
Paul nodded, pushing Gil’s cock inside himself a little. “Okay.” He pushed further, wincing at a sharp pain that quickly subsided.
“Are you all right?”
Paul laughed a little. “I’m not going to b-break,” he assured. He cupped a hand over Gil’s ear and hair, kissing him while pushing back.
“But-”
“I’m fine, Gil, I p-promise,” Paul said, paying little attention to his words and more on what he was doing. “Just tell me how I’m doing,” he said between gasps.
“Wonderful,” he breathed. He put his arms around Paul, pulling himself up to kiss him. Sighing as Paul started a little faster, Gil moved his hand closer to Paul’s waist.
“No,” Paul said, stopping and pinning the straying limb to the bed.
“I-”
“Please, just don’t,” he said firmly.
Gil nodded. “All right.” Before he could respond, Paul pushed Gil back to the bed, knocking his breath out of him momentarily. “Fuck,” Gil said under his breath.
“You know, it’s b-been awhile since I’ve done this,” Paul said, pushing his teeth and lips against Gil’s neck.
“Well, it’s excellent,” he commented. “Just keeping doing it,” he said between gasps for air.
Paul nodded, pushing harder. “All right,” he said.
Gil’s grip on the back of Paul’s neck tightened as he gulped and tensed, “Fuck,” he repeated. With a moan, he tensed and relaxed as he came.
“Paul,” he said quietly. “Thank you,” he added with a smile.
Paul traced a finger through Gil’s hair. “Thank you,” he replied. He moved off of Gil, stretching out next to him and making sure the blanket was still over both of them. Paul looked at Gil, and then laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” Gil asked, a little hazy.
Paul shrugged, smiling. “The whole. . .” he gestured a vague circle, “everything,” he finished. He laughed a little more, oddly close to a giggle. “Don’t mind me,” he said.
“You’re acting like that blanket is life-support,” Gil said.
“Hmm?”
“You’re holding on to the blanket tightly,” he reiterated.
“Oh,” Paul said, releasing it a little. “It’s been a long time since . . .since anyone’s seen me naked.”
“Your wife?”
Paul shrugged, looking away. “We didn’t . . .well, I w-won’t say w-we never, but it was rare and. . .” Paul squirmed, uncomfortable with the topic. “It wasn’t often,” he said.
“You never told her,” Gil said, appalled, but he wasn’t sure at what.
“Not so much the whole story,” Paul said, “but I never told her I was. . ..”
“How long were you married?”
“Thirteen years.” Paul coughed, a coping mechanism. “I told her I had a genetic disorder. I told her that pretty early on . . .I told h-her I didn’t mind if she . . .if she . . .went to other p-people,” he explained. “As long as she was discreet about it.”
“And you?”
Paul looked away and didn’t answer the question. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“All right.”
Paul moved to sit at the side of the bed, careful to keep his back to Gil.
“What are you doing?” Gil asked curiously.
“Getting dressed,” he answered.
“Why?”
“Because I prefer my clothes on.”
Gil sat up. “Just for a little while, leave them off.”
Paul didn’t respond.
“You can turn out the light if you’re more comfortable that way.” Sugar in his voice, he continued, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Paul shivered slightly, sitting a minute before standing to turn out the light. Waiting until it was off, Gil stood, walking over to him. “And relax a little,” he added, placing a hand on Paul’s forearm and motioning circles softly. “Are you comfortable?”
“No.”
“Do you mind this, then?”
Paul paused a moment, his eyes adjusting quickly to the light level. “No.”
Gil moved his hand nearing Paul’s thigh, and didn’t move when Paul went to push it away. “Let me touch you,” he asked.
After a minute, Paul moved the blocking hand away. Before doing anything further, Gil put his other hand in Paul’s hair, stepping closer for a kiss. With him distracted sufficiently, Gil moved his hand, putting his fingers carefully between Paul’s legs.
Gil stepped back a little, his hand unmoved. “I have to be honest-I don’t really know if what I’m doing is working.”
“It is,” Paul said between gasps.
“As long as you know that,” Gil said. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Paul said.
“All right.” With strategic foot planning, Gil went from standing to kneeling. He touched Paul, then leaned in to put his lips around Paul’s cock.
Paul shuddered, putting his hands in Gil’s hair. “Shit,” he whispered.
Honestly frightened about using his teeth, Gil instead used his tongue. He licked the short length of skin, aware of the sensitivity but knowing little beyond that. Feeling Paul’s hands clench in his hair, Gil put it back in his mouth, cautiously sucking.
Paul pushed him away carefully. “Could we sit down?” he said suddenly. “I’d j-just. . .just rather not fall over,” he finished with a small laugh.
Gil stood, noticing that Paul’s legs were shaking. “Of course. You can lie down,” he said. He waited for him, moving to the bed himself, and knelt between his legs. “If I’m doing something wrong . . ..”
“It’s great,” Paul said, sputtering a little.
He slid his tongue along his cock, relishing the opportunity to explore another facet of biology-the differently sexed and effects of surgery. Maybe using Paul as a guinea pig or study wasn’t the most flattering thing he could do, but Paul didn’t seem to notice-or care.
Gil brought his fingers along Paul’s inner thigh, stroking him there gently before moving his hand higher. Cautiously, he pushed two fingers inside of him, slowly, as he licked the end of Paul’s cock.
Paul crossed his hands over his chest, holding himself tightly, and moaning. It took every ounce of concentration he had to keep himself relaxed, and to keep himself from scurrying away from Gil.
“Shit,” Paul repeated, breathing rapidly through clenched teeth. He called Gil’s name under his breath, then let out an odd falsetto-ed whimper, as he came, putting his hands back to Gil’s hair.
He shuddered, and sat up immediately, pulling the previously discarded blanket over his bent legs. He held it to his chest, looking away from Gil, appearing both elated and depressed.
“Gil,” he started, “would . . .” he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Would you hold me?” he said, managing to look at Gil.
Crawling the short way between them, Gil sat behind Paul, putting his arms around him. Releasing his grip on the blanket a little, Paul leaned on Gil’s shoulder, his eyes serenely closed.
Very still but shivering, Paul traced a finger lazily across Gil’s chest.
“You’re quite the enigma,” Gil said eventually. “I don’t think I’d ever figure you out.”
“You’re welcome to try,” Paul replied with a yawn.
“Sleepy?”
Paul looked to the clock shortly. “Actually, this has been my bedtime recently.” He nestled back into his previous position. “But that doesn’t matter.”
“Do you want to lie down?”
“I’m comfortable here,” he said. “Unless you’re not.”
“This is fine,” Gil said, shifting slightly. “May I ask you something?”
“Sure,” Paul replied.
“I’m just curious-why did you come here?”
Paul turned to look at Gil. “Honestly? I’m . . .I’m not s-sure.” He shrugged, traces of blushing hinting on his face. “I g-guess . . .I guess, since I’ve been so secluded, I needed . . .just someone to talk to.” He turned away. “But honestly, I’m not too sure.”
“You have no one else to talk to?”
“Not really, not anymore. And . . .I’m not the type to k-keep track of people I know.” He smiled weakly. “It’s a destructive habit of m-mine. It’s especially easy to forget people you never really liked.” Paul sighed, sitting upright. “I think my wife was the longest I’d ever known anyone. Maybe she knew more about m-me than she let on.”
“Does she know you’re alive?”
Paul paused. “Yes,” he replied.
“But your marriage was legally terminated with your death certificate.”
“It was . . ..” Paul glanced at his hands. “I explained as much as I c-could to her; she helped me out.” Paul shook his head. “I never thought sex would be important. I m-mean, women don’t usually want it, and I would know,” he added quietly. “With her g-going off now and then to be with her boyfriend . . .it really p-put a hole in things.”
“You felt detached?”
“Nothing makes you feel more impotent than that.”
Gil frowned, putting an arm across Paul’s shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell her?”
“She knew. I don’t know when, but I’m sure she knew. Maybe she wasn’t s-sure, so she didn’t want to say anything. She was understanding, and always was, and that was the most important thing to me.”
Gil’s fingers strayed to Paul’s ear, stroking it lightly. “It’s an important quality.”
Paul hesitated. “It’s why . . .it’s why I feel so close to you,” he said in a small voice, not daring eye contact. “No one’s ever been so accepting of me.” Paul chanced that matching stare. “And you’ve known more about me than anyone.”
“I hardly know you.”
“You know more pieces of myself than anyone. My wife never knew about my past or my hobbies; my mother never wanted to know anything about me.” Paul kissed Gil lightly. “I’m so grateful for you, even if you don’t know me that w-well.”
Gil smiled, about to speak, when interrupted by his pager. Rolling his eyes, he reached over to the night table drawer and pulled it out. Looking at it, he rolled his eyes again. “They want me to come in early,” Gil said. “Shocking.”
Paul reached for his clothes. “I should get going anyway,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Gil asked, genuinely confused.
“For . . .for, I don’t know.” Paul started dressing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.”
Gil shook his head. “I’m glad you did. I like knowing you’re alive and I enjoyed spending time with you.”
“And what would your friends think?”
Gil glanced to his now silent pager. “They don’t have to know, Paul. They think you’re dead.”
Paul’s lips parted in surprise. “I suppose I don’t have to ask you not to tell anyone I was here.”
“Paul,” Gil began, “what would I tell them?”
Paul smiled. “Ex-exactly.” He stood, now dressed, pulling his 9mm from the nightstand. He turned back. “I enjoyed seeing you again.”
Gil smiled sadly and looked at the calendar. “Happy belated birthday, by the way.”
Paul laughed. “Yeah.” He tucked his gun away unseen. “I have to leave,” he said, turning away and walking.
“Wait,” Gil said, standing, dragging the blanket with him. He walked over to where Paul had stopped in front of the door, and pushed him against it, pressing their lips together. He put a hand to Paul’s waist, making sure he didn’t dart away just yet. Paul pushed himself against Gil, forcefully.
Paul broke it off, pulling back. “Goodbye, Gil.”
Gil nodded, biting his lip. “Goodbye, Paul.” He watched as Paul slipped out the bedroom door, and then out of the townhouse. Hearing the click of the door, Gil felt a weight on his chest.
~~~fin~~~