"Saner Times," NC-17, Miracles, Alva/Paul
A Miracles Fanfic
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 1 of 1
Rating: Adult17+ (graphic sexual situations between two men)
Dates: Written Nov-Dec 2006
Word Count: 3,907
Summary: Alternate Universe sequel to " You Can't Help Who You Are." What if Paul had opened the door for Alva instead of shutting him out?
Betas: Unbeta'ed. It's just a little PWP; I didn't feel it was that important to have it looked over.
Author's Notes: A little Alva/Paul requested by A Brave Lass. Mrs. Bongiovi is a neighbor of Paul's that I made up. (Yes, her last name comes from Jon Bon Jovi.) I plagiarized myself a little here by reusing the paragraph about Paul's sexual discovery at the orphanage. I think I'll sue myself!
"Paul! Paul, open the door!"
The door cattycorner to Paul's opened and Mrs. Bongiovi came out into the hallway outside his apartment. "Mr. Keel? What's all the noise about? Is Paul okay?"
"I don't know." Alva loudly banged on the door again with a closed fist. "He's very upset over something. Paul's locked himself in, and won't open the door for me. It sounds like he's destroying a piece of furniture in there."
"Oh my gosh! Should we call the police? What upset him like that?"
Alva shook his head. "No, everything will be alright if I can just get him to let me in." He deliberately ignored her second question. How could he explain that the reason Paul was so upset was because he'd recovered buried memories of being kidnapped by the Mothman? Alva banged once more. "Paul, open up, or Mrs. Bongiovi and I are going to call the police!"
Upon hearing that, Paul pulled himself up off the floor and headed for the front door. He wished he could just forget the horrible things he'd remembered while under hypnosis, but they were burned into his mind now, like a brand. The violation, the terror, the utter disregard for his safety... why did being a psychic mean he had to be a tool at the disposal of any otherwordly being who knew how to turn the screw?
"I just want a normal life," Paul mumbled to himself as he walked toward the door to let Keel in.
Alva was about to knock once more, but he heard the lock slide back and waited for Paul to open the door. The pitiful look on Paul's face coupled with the agony in his eyes would have been enough to rip Alva's heart out, but there was the added bonus of bloodied hands as well.
"I'm sorry I scared you," were Paul's first tearful words, spoken in a quiet voice, like he deeply wished not to inconvenience anyone. "Don't call the police. I'll be okay."
Alva could not bring any sound to his lips as he looked at those blood-smeared knuckles and abrasions on Paul's delicate fingers. He was simultaneously glad and displeased that Mrs. Bongiovi was there to do the speaking for him. "Paul... what did you do to your hands?" she asked in a tone that was as concerned as it was shocked.
Alva understood what she was feeling. The idea of sensible, level-headed Paul hurting himself on purpose... the man could be a little moody and easy to anger at times, but this kind of self-harm? Alva had been present for more than one incident of Paul deliberately hurting himself, though, hadn't he? The time when Paul cut his hand and bled on the sheet. The incident where he'd... ice in the bathtub... a syringe full of heart-stopping drugs... whatever Paul had done to his hands, it couldn't be half as bad as what he'd done before the four minute countdown began.
Still, this seemed out of character for Paul. Alva stared incredulously at the injuries and wondered just what Paul had destroyed to cause them. The mere idea of Paul losing control like that was absolutely alien to Alva's scope of possibility, and he wasn't even sure why, concerning he had been on the receiving end of that uncontrolled anger. It didn't matter; Alva was still quite alarmed that Paul would go this far.
"I, um... I'm fine. I mean, I'll be alright. I..." Paul stood in his doorway, looking at his hands as if even he couldn't believe what he'd done, and tried to stop the helpless tears streaming from his eyes. He had no idea what to say.
Alva felt he had to take control. "Mrs. Bongiovi, I'll look after him. I'll tend to his hands. I have a background in medicine. You go back in your home and don't worry about Paul."
"But, look what he did to himself..." The woman had to be far more shocked than Alva felt because she knew nothing of Paul's other incidents of self-harm and destruction.
"I'll come by and give you progress reports every few hours, alright?"
She looked at Paul and saw that beyond the lost cast to his eyes was an expression of gratitude and relief at the idea of Alva taking care of him. The two men shared a certain understanding that had grown over time. It was this look in Paul's eyes that convinced Mrs. Bongiovi that she could leave him with Alva and he would be okay. "Paul, you do as Mr. Keel says and let him take care of you. And I want you to talk to him about what's bothering you. Hurting yourself like this isn't the answer."
Paul promised her he would.
The first thing Alva noticed once the door was again closed was the damaged and bloodstained coffee table. A corner was caved in, with smears of blood all over it. Splatters had marked the carpet. He gazed at Paul in disbelief. "You punched your coffee table? That's how your hands were injured?"
Nodding sheepishly, Paul said, "I was angry," like this was sufficient explanation.
Alva carefully took one of Paul's hands and examined it gingerly. "Wiggle your fingers for me."
He did, and winced.
"Do you think you need x-rays?"
"I'm not sure. They don't really hurt that way." Then Paul added, "At least I can move my fingers."
Alva nodded in sympathy. "I can understand why you were upset. You needed to let out some of that anger and frustration." He smirked slightly and asked, "Did it help?"
"I guess a little." A new wave of tears overcame him, and he suddenly seemed vulnerable and broken again, struggling to hold them back.
Alright, so Paul wasn't quite ready for jokes to lighten the mood. Leading him into the bedroom, Alva pointed to Paul's bed and told him to sit down. "You'll feel better once we take care of the pain. Your hands hurt, don't they?"
Paul nodded, looking at the floor pitifully.
Alva took the silence as a sign that he was brooding. He just let Paul pout for a minute while he retrieved some supplies from the bathroom. "It's a good thing you keep your medicine cabinet well stocked now. After all the times you've been hurt working a case, it was a sensible idea, hm?" Alva came back into the bedroom with gauze pads and wrap, rubbing alcohol, a glass of water, and Paul's latest prescribed bottle of painkillers. The good stuff. "You might as well take one of these now."
Paul raised his head long enough to accept the pill Alva placed in his mouth. He knew trying to drink from the glass would be painful if he held it himself, so he allowed Alva to bring it to his lips and took a gulp to wash down the medicine.
"Is that enough?" Alva asked, ready to give him more water if need be.
"Yeah."
Alva sat on the bed and put the medical supplies in his lap. Seeing him do this, Paul offered his hands. "Let me take this, alright?" Alva gently unwound the rosary that Paul had wrapped around his right hand.
"Did I damage it?" he asked desperately.
"I don't think so. I'll be able to tell better when I get the blood cleaned off."
"Clean it now," pleaded Paul. "Take it to the sink and wash it off. Please."
Nodding curtly, Alva said, "Your mother's?"
Paul nodded back, tears standing in his eyes.
As he had asked, Alva took the rosary into the bathroom and ran it under the faucet. He noticed that some of the beads were scratched. Paul probably wouldn't take that well, but he'd want to know.
He looked up forlornly when Alva reentered the bedroom, drying the necklace off with a towel. "Did I hurt it?"
"There are a few scratches here and there, but it's not so bad," Alva replied. He tried to smile for Paul's sake.
Paul looked disappointed.
Sitting next to him on the bed, Alva held up the rosary. "It's still beautiful, just a little loveworn. Like your mother's spirit."
Paul slowly lifted his head and smiled a little. "I wish I could hold it." He looked at his hands.
"We'll have you fixed up in no time."
Alva worked swiftly to minimize the pain. He cleaned off the blood and applied pads to Paul's abraded knuckles, then wrapped them in a generous amount of gauze to minimize their movement. While he did, Alva tried to get Paul to talk. "You must've had that necklace wrapped fairly tightly around your hand. These bruises are in the shape of the beads, and here's the crucifix on the ball of your thumb." He gently traced the marks with his fingers, hovering a centimeter over Paul's hand. "I'm sure it means a lot to you."
Paul nodded. "I don't have much from my childhood. Not anything that was really mine. It's one of the few things that could be salvaged from the years that I had a mother."
"You'll always have a mother, Paul. She's always there, looking after you." Now that Paul's hands were dressed, Alva could place the rosary into his palm. "This will be your connection to her. Death can never take that away."
Draping the necklace over his hand, Paul carefully brought it to his lips and kissed the crucifix, closing his eyes. "Thank you, Alva."
Alva, touched, cocked his head to one side. "You never call me by my first name."
Paul opened his eyes and gazed at him, seeing him anew. "I just feel... very close to you right now."
Reaching out, Alva errantly stroked the side of Paul's head. "Do you want to tell me about what you've been feeling since the hypnosis session?"
"Well..." Paul swallowed hard. "...it's just difficult to be considered some sort of... tool... by beings like the Mothman. Creatures like that aren't even supposed to exist. And here it comes, stealing into my life and using me for purposes that can only be considered strange and twisted. I mean, what was the purpose of drugging me and making me drive across state to Vermont so I could make a few phone calls to you? There doesn't seem to be any meaning to it. What would be the purpose of..."
Paul looked down at his lap, holding the rosary to his lips, trying not to allow the tears to start again.
Alva's face softened in sympathy. Paul was in such pain. "Shhh, Paul, it's alright."
His voice breaking, he said, "I never wanted any of this for my life."
Alva put his arms around Paul and pulled him in. Paul laid his head on the other man's shoulder and wept freely, just letting go. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry to lose it like this, but..."
Alva rubbed Paul's back and stroked his hair, not even thinking about how intimate it was, how out of character for the two of them to touch like that. "You have nothing to apologize for. The Mothman violated you, he kidnapped you, and used you against your will. Anyone would be devastated. Any person would be angry, and confused."
"I wish I'd never discovered I have these abilities," Paul cried bitterly. "At least then, I wouldn't remember what this creature did to me!"
"I'm glad you found out the truth."
Shocked, Paul leaned back and looked Alva in the eyes. "What?"
"I said I'm glad you found out the truth."
"But... why?" Paul was on the edge between confusion and anger.
"Because if you hadn't found out the truth about yourself, we never would have met," Alva said.
Stunned into silence, Paul did not speak for several seconds. "Oh. You... you said something about that before. How the strange course of our lives led you to me."
"Yes." Alva impulsively touched Paul's face, wiping away the tears under one eye with his thumb. "I don't want any of this pain and suffering for you. I wish I could soothe it all away. But if I had to change the fact that you and I were brought together, however it happened, I wouldn't change it for the world."
Leaning back a bit, Alva gingerly removed the rosary from Paul's hand. "Your mother was a strong woman. She raised you by herself, and she faced cancer alone. She made sure that without any family, and without your father's help, that you would have a safe, loving place to grow up. Your mother did the best she could under overwhelming circumstances. It must've been very painful for her, knowing she had to leave her son behind to be raised by other people. But she did the best she could, and trusted Father Calero to take care of you." Alva carefully draped the rosary over the bedpost. "She would want you to revel in her strength."
Paul took a moment to let what Alva had said sink in. "You are a very eloquent man, Alva Keel."
They did not currently speak. Only looked at each other, each aware that something was happening between them. Something they never expected.
Alva eventually said, "Well, you are strong, like your mother, Paul. I know things seem bad right now, but you'll bounce back. No matter what." Alva's thumb, wet with Paul's tears, moved down his cheek and close to his mouth.
Paul was compelled to put his lips to that thumb and kiss it. Alva's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away.
Paul had grown up in an orphanage. The boys and girls were separated for many things, including sleeping, and young people whose sexuality was budding had to find an outlet somewhere. The boys were there. They were close, and they were always available. Consequently, Paul had experimented with the boys until he was old enough to get sneaky and go off to secret hiding places with the girls. To this day, when things got really bad, Paul found the most security and familiarity with men. They provided the best comfort sex. It was not a constant thing at all anymore, but sometimes... every few years...
"Alva, I..." Paul leaned in closer. Alva still did not retreat. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling here. But I... I really... want to... kiss you. Would that..." Their lips moved closer and closer together. "...can I..."
"Paul..." Alva's voice was low and husky. "I've had feelings for you for quite some time. And I don't seem to be pulling away."
Very softly, slowly, Paul leaned in and kissed him, sucking lightly at his bottom lip, then the top one. When he pulled back, he was shaking. "That was nice."
Alva almost chuckled aloud at how innocent Paul sounded. "Would you like to go further?"
With an enthusiastic nod, Paul, acting on need mixed with desire, slipped his arms under Alva's and pulled him close. Alva held Paul tenderly, letting him lead whatever they were doing here. Paul leaned into another kiss, this one longer and more passionate, while they held each other. A hand slid into Alva's wavy hair and caressed it sensually. Paul moaned softly into his mouth. "You... you're getting me worked up," Paul confessed with a grin.
"The feeling's mutual," Alva smiled back. This time, he leaned in for the next kiss.
Paul took that kiss with absolute need. "You feel... so good... you're so warm. I love the way you feel in my arms."
Paul was a talker, while Alva showed how he felt through his passion. Still, he was surprised with Paul's aggression as Paul's tongue began to search in his mouth. A moan escaped him.
Neither had fully considered what they were doing, but at that moment, it didn't matter. To discuss it would have destroyed the mood they were caught up in.
Pulling away, Paul reached for the hem of Alva's shirt and tried to take it off over his head. He was fully committed to going through with this. But the injuries to his hands made it too painful. It looked like Alva would have to do most of the undressing... the touching... although, Paul would try. "Allow me."
Alva first unbuttoned Paul's shirt. Being mindful of the rosary, he pushed the shirt off his shoulders, then ran his hands over Paul's chest. Soft, gentle caresses. A kiss placed at his collarbone, down to his nipple, between them, close to Paul's bellybutton...
The entire time, Paul's eyes grew more and more excited and heated, and by the time Alva came up for air, he was moaning softly at each touch and kiss. Paul wasn't a big guy, but he did have muscular upper arms. His hairless chest heaved with excited breaths. "Uhh... now you?" Paul pawed helplessly at Alva's shirt.
Chuckling, Alva assured, "Don't worry, I'll get it done."
Alva, pulling his shirt off over his head, took Paul in his arms again and they kissed some more.
"Mmmm..." Paul moaned helplessly. When he broke the kiss, he licked his lips and stroked lovingly at Alva's hair. "I could kiss like that for about five more hours."
Chuckling again, Alva gestured to the head of the bed. "There isn't any reason we can't." He sighed longingly. "Whatever you need, Paul."
In the next minute, they had stripped off everything but their pants and lay on the bed next to each other, face to face. More sensual kissing. More caresses. More cuddling. Testing the waters, Alva reached down and stroked the front of Paul's pants. He found a hard, responsive lump.
"Muh!" Although Paul jumped unexpectedly, he still arched into Alva's hand. A whimpery moan escaped him. His cock responded by suddenly getting a little harder. Because Alva continued massaging there, Paul started to pant, looking at him with arousal in his eyes. He couldn't wait for Alva to wrap his hand around it and stroke him down.
It was as if Alva read his mind, because he moved closer to him so their skin touched. Their legs intertwined. Paul moaned out loud at that first touch of pelvis to pelvis. They were currently still dressed, but they could still feel it as their cocks rubbed together deliciously.
Paul wasn't able to help it. He gyrated rapidly against Alva, moaning with each bit of contact.
"No, no, Paul, slow down. Slow down..." Alva took hold of Paul's hips and stilled him forcefully.
"But you feel so good! Please don't stop! I want to bring you off," Paul pleaded.
"We're not stopping. Savor it," Alva said in a whisper. He kept hold of Paul's hips as he began to rub against him again, slow and sensual. "Ssssssavor iiiiiiiit..."
They kissed and panted into each other while working each other up, grinding slowly. Paul and Alva moaned into the intense, open-mouthed kisses. Paul's gauze-rough hands ran up and down Alva's chest and over his waist. This went on for a couple of minutes until Alva reached down to undo Paul's pants.
"Uhhh, yes, yes!" he cried, eagerly angling himself to make it easier for Alva to strip him.
It was a little cumbersome for Alva to get them both undressed without any help, but he managed. The time that it took him only prolonged the anticipation. Paul tried to assist him between wincing in pain at the use of his hands; he was better at pulling the pants down than unbuttoning them. Soon, they could move closer to each other and put skin to skin.
Alva wrapped his hand around both of their members and stroked up and down as he began to buck slowly against Paul. The moans that escaped him were much quieter and more subtle than the sounds that came from Paul; Paul had always been the more vocal one about his feelings.
"Uhhhhaaah, ahhh..." Paul crooned. Not holding back, he swayed his hips toward Alva's. That only made the pleasure more intense. He loved the way it felt to have Alva's hand wrapped around him, to have the other man's cock stroking against his own - it was intense, passionate, hot, every adjective he could think of! He reached down and caressed both sets of balls with his fingers, being careful not to aggravate his injuries, but working them enough to give them both a pleasurable massage.
"Mmmm, that's good, Paul," Alva moaned.
Their kisses became more and more desperate as they neared climax.
Panting harder, Alva growled out, "Paul!"
"Uhhhrrraaah!" Paul answered incoherently. He bucked hard into Alva's gyrations. A few seconds later, he came all over the two of them, shaking and making little moaning sounds. "Alva!" Paul cried out very close to Alva's mouth, riding out his orgasm.
Alva could feel Paul's breath on his lips as he came. "That's it, Paul. There we go. That's it now." A mere second later, Alva climaxed himself, eyes closed, a look of ecstasy on his face.
Their movements started to slow down even as Paul caught Alva's mouth up in a deep kiss. A few moments went by of looking into each other's eyes before Alva looked away. "I suppose... I should get a rag to clean us up," he remarked of the semen that had splattered their chests.
"Wait." Paul put a hand on his arm as he tried to roll over. "Don't be in such a hurry."
To Alva's surprise, Paul was eager and content to lie there almost naked with him, cuddling and kissing lightly for a good half hour. "I feel safe with you," Paul suddenly said as some sort of explanation.
"Things weren't always that way," Alva added.
Paul nodded. "I know."
Eventually, Alva did get the rag and wiped them both off. He wondered if he should get dressed now... or would Paul want something else? The way Paul was looking up at him... "Do you want to be alone now?" Alva asked.
After a short time of consideration, Paul shook his head. "No."
Alva took his cue and climbed back into bed. They cuddled together, Paul's back to Alva's front, under the covers. Alva softly stroked his fingers through Paul's hair. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that. What the Mothman did to you. No matter what knowledge we gained from that experience, I never wanted such pain for you."
Paul did not reply for a bit. Thinking. He finally said, "Thank you, Alva."
"Even so, I wouldn't trade these experiences for saner times." He swallowed hard. "They led me to you." Alva paused. "What about you? Do you feel any different about the circumstances under which we met?"
Paul, taking some time to consider what Alva had said, finally turned over on his back and looked up at him. "I wouldn't change them for anything."
And he kissed him.
Saner Times (c) 2006 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People
Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment & Touchstone Television
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)
Chapters: 1 of 1
Rating: Adult17+ (graphic sexual situations between two men)
Dates: Written Nov-Dec 2006
Word Count: 3,907
Summary: Alternate Universe sequel to " You Can't Help Who You Are." What if Paul had opened the door for Alva instead of shutting him out?
Betas: Unbeta'ed. It's just a little PWP; I didn't feel it was that important to have it looked over.
Author's Notes: A little Alva/Paul requested by A Brave Lass. Mrs. Bongiovi is a neighbor of Paul's that I made up. (Yes, her last name comes from Jon Bon Jovi.) I plagiarized myself a little here by reusing the paragraph about Paul's sexual discovery at the orphanage. I think I'll sue myself!
"Paul! Paul, open the door!"
The door cattycorner to Paul's opened and Mrs. Bongiovi came out into the hallway outside his apartment. "Mr. Keel? What's all the noise about? Is Paul okay?"
"I don't know." Alva loudly banged on the door again with a closed fist. "He's very upset over something. Paul's locked himself in, and won't open the door for me. It sounds like he's destroying a piece of furniture in there."
"Oh my gosh! Should we call the police? What upset him like that?"
Alva shook his head. "No, everything will be alright if I can just get him to let me in." He deliberately ignored her second question. How could he explain that the reason Paul was so upset was because he'd recovered buried memories of being kidnapped by the Mothman? Alva banged once more. "Paul, open up, or Mrs. Bongiovi and I are going to call the police!"
Upon hearing that, Paul pulled himself up off the floor and headed for the front door. He wished he could just forget the horrible things he'd remembered while under hypnosis, but they were burned into his mind now, like a brand. The violation, the terror, the utter disregard for his safety... why did being a psychic mean he had to be a tool at the disposal of any otherwordly being who knew how to turn the screw?
"I just want a normal life," Paul mumbled to himself as he walked toward the door to let Keel in.
Alva was about to knock once more, but he heard the lock slide back and waited for Paul to open the door. The pitiful look on Paul's face coupled with the agony in his eyes would have been enough to rip Alva's heart out, but there was the added bonus of bloodied hands as well.
"I'm sorry I scared you," were Paul's first tearful words, spoken in a quiet voice, like he deeply wished not to inconvenience anyone. "Don't call the police. I'll be okay."
Alva could not bring any sound to his lips as he looked at those blood-smeared knuckles and abrasions on Paul's delicate fingers. He was simultaneously glad and displeased that Mrs. Bongiovi was there to do the speaking for him. "Paul... what did you do to your hands?" she asked in a tone that was as concerned as it was shocked.
Alva understood what she was feeling. The idea of sensible, level-headed Paul hurting himself on purpose... the man could be a little moody and easy to anger at times, but this kind of self-harm? Alva had been present for more than one incident of Paul deliberately hurting himself, though, hadn't he? The time when Paul cut his hand and bled on the sheet. The incident where he'd... ice in the bathtub... a syringe full of heart-stopping drugs... whatever Paul had done to his hands, it couldn't be half as bad as what he'd done before the four minute countdown began.
Still, this seemed out of character for Paul. Alva stared incredulously at the injuries and wondered just what Paul had destroyed to cause them. The mere idea of Paul losing control like that was absolutely alien to Alva's scope of possibility, and he wasn't even sure why, concerning he had been on the receiving end of that uncontrolled anger. It didn't matter; Alva was still quite alarmed that Paul would go this far.
"I, um... I'm fine. I mean, I'll be alright. I..." Paul stood in his doorway, looking at his hands as if even he couldn't believe what he'd done, and tried to stop the helpless tears streaming from his eyes. He had no idea what to say.
Alva felt he had to take control. "Mrs. Bongiovi, I'll look after him. I'll tend to his hands. I have a background in medicine. You go back in your home and don't worry about Paul."
"But, look what he did to himself..." The woman had to be far more shocked than Alva felt because she knew nothing of Paul's other incidents of self-harm and destruction.
"I'll come by and give you progress reports every few hours, alright?"
She looked at Paul and saw that beyond the lost cast to his eyes was an expression of gratitude and relief at the idea of Alva taking care of him. The two men shared a certain understanding that had grown over time. It was this look in Paul's eyes that convinced Mrs. Bongiovi that she could leave him with Alva and he would be okay. "Paul, you do as Mr. Keel says and let him take care of you. And I want you to talk to him about what's bothering you. Hurting yourself like this isn't the answer."
Paul promised her he would.
The first thing Alva noticed once the door was again closed was the damaged and bloodstained coffee table. A corner was caved in, with smears of blood all over it. Splatters had marked the carpet. He gazed at Paul in disbelief. "You punched your coffee table? That's how your hands were injured?"
Nodding sheepishly, Paul said, "I was angry," like this was sufficient explanation.
Alva carefully took one of Paul's hands and examined it gingerly. "Wiggle your fingers for me."
He did, and winced.
"Do you think you need x-rays?"
"I'm not sure. They don't really hurt that way." Then Paul added, "At least I can move my fingers."
Alva nodded in sympathy. "I can understand why you were upset. You needed to let out some of that anger and frustration." He smirked slightly and asked, "Did it help?"
"I guess a little." A new wave of tears overcame him, and he suddenly seemed vulnerable and broken again, struggling to hold them back.
Alright, so Paul wasn't quite ready for jokes to lighten the mood. Leading him into the bedroom, Alva pointed to Paul's bed and told him to sit down. "You'll feel better once we take care of the pain. Your hands hurt, don't they?"
Paul nodded, looking at the floor pitifully.
Alva took the silence as a sign that he was brooding. He just let Paul pout for a minute while he retrieved some supplies from the bathroom. "It's a good thing you keep your medicine cabinet well stocked now. After all the times you've been hurt working a case, it was a sensible idea, hm?" Alva came back into the bedroom with gauze pads and wrap, rubbing alcohol, a glass of water, and Paul's latest prescribed bottle of painkillers. The good stuff. "You might as well take one of these now."
Paul raised his head long enough to accept the pill Alva placed in his mouth. He knew trying to drink from the glass would be painful if he held it himself, so he allowed Alva to bring it to his lips and took a gulp to wash down the medicine.
"Is that enough?" Alva asked, ready to give him more water if need be.
"Yeah."
Alva sat on the bed and put the medical supplies in his lap. Seeing him do this, Paul offered his hands. "Let me take this, alright?" Alva gently unwound the rosary that Paul had wrapped around his right hand.
"Did I damage it?" he asked desperately.
"I don't think so. I'll be able to tell better when I get the blood cleaned off."
"Clean it now," pleaded Paul. "Take it to the sink and wash it off. Please."
Nodding curtly, Alva said, "Your mother's?"
Paul nodded back, tears standing in his eyes.
As he had asked, Alva took the rosary into the bathroom and ran it under the faucet. He noticed that some of the beads were scratched. Paul probably wouldn't take that well, but he'd want to know.
He looked up forlornly when Alva reentered the bedroom, drying the necklace off with a towel. "Did I hurt it?"
"There are a few scratches here and there, but it's not so bad," Alva replied. He tried to smile for Paul's sake.
Paul looked disappointed.
Sitting next to him on the bed, Alva held up the rosary. "It's still beautiful, just a little loveworn. Like your mother's spirit."
Paul slowly lifted his head and smiled a little. "I wish I could hold it." He looked at his hands.
"We'll have you fixed up in no time."
Alva worked swiftly to minimize the pain. He cleaned off the blood and applied pads to Paul's abraded knuckles, then wrapped them in a generous amount of gauze to minimize their movement. While he did, Alva tried to get Paul to talk. "You must've had that necklace wrapped fairly tightly around your hand. These bruises are in the shape of the beads, and here's the crucifix on the ball of your thumb." He gently traced the marks with his fingers, hovering a centimeter over Paul's hand. "I'm sure it means a lot to you."
Paul nodded. "I don't have much from my childhood. Not anything that was really mine. It's one of the few things that could be salvaged from the years that I had a mother."
"You'll always have a mother, Paul. She's always there, looking after you." Now that Paul's hands were dressed, Alva could place the rosary into his palm. "This will be your connection to her. Death can never take that away."
Draping the necklace over his hand, Paul carefully brought it to his lips and kissed the crucifix, closing his eyes. "Thank you, Alva."
Alva, touched, cocked his head to one side. "You never call me by my first name."
Paul opened his eyes and gazed at him, seeing him anew. "I just feel... very close to you right now."
Reaching out, Alva errantly stroked the side of Paul's head. "Do you want to tell me about what you've been feeling since the hypnosis session?"
"Well..." Paul swallowed hard. "...it's just difficult to be considered some sort of... tool... by beings like the Mothman. Creatures like that aren't even supposed to exist. And here it comes, stealing into my life and using me for purposes that can only be considered strange and twisted. I mean, what was the purpose of drugging me and making me drive across state to Vermont so I could make a few phone calls to you? There doesn't seem to be any meaning to it. What would be the purpose of..."
Paul looked down at his lap, holding the rosary to his lips, trying not to allow the tears to start again.
Alva's face softened in sympathy. Paul was in such pain. "Shhh, Paul, it's alright."
His voice breaking, he said, "I never wanted any of this for my life."
Alva put his arms around Paul and pulled him in. Paul laid his head on the other man's shoulder and wept freely, just letting go. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry to lose it like this, but..."
Alva rubbed Paul's back and stroked his hair, not even thinking about how intimate it was, how out of character for the two of them to touch like that. "You have nothing to apologize for. The Mothman violated you, he kidnapped you, and used you against your will. Anyone would be devastated. Any person would be angry, and confused."
"I wish I'd never discovered I have these abilities," Paul cried bitterly. "At least then, I wouldn't remember what this creature did to me!"
"I'm glad you found out the truth."
Shocked, Paul leaned back and looked Alva in the eyes. "What?"
"I said I'm glad you found out the truth."
"But... why?" Paul was on the edge between confusion and anger.
"Because if you hadn't found out the truth about yourself, we never would have met," Alva said.
Stunned into silence, Paul did not speak for several seconds. "Oh. You... you said something about that before. How the strange course of our lives led you to me."
"Yes." Alva impulsively touched Paul's face, wiping away the tears under one eye with his thumb. "I don't want any of this pain and suffering for you. I wish I could soothe it all away. But if I had to change the fact that you and I were brought together, however it happened, I wouldn't change it for the world."
Leaning back a bit, Alva gingerly removed the rosary from Paul's hand. "Your mother was a strong woman. She raised you by herself, and she faced cancer alone. She made sure that without any family, and without your father's help, that you would have a safe, loving place to grow up. Your mother did the best she could under overwhelming circumstances. It must've been very painful for her, knowing she had to leave her son behind to be raised by other people. But she did the best she could, and trusted Father Calero to take care of you." Alva carefully draped the rosary over the bedpost. "She would want you to revel in her strength."
Paul took a moment to let what Alva had said sink in. "You are a very eloquent man, Alva Keel."
They did not currently speak. Only looked at each other, each aware that something was happening between them. Something they never expected.
Alva eventually said, "Well, you are strong, like your mother, Paul. I know things seem bad right now, but you'll bounce back. No matter what." Alva's thumb, wet with Paul's tears, moved down his cheek and close to his mouth.
Paul was compelled to put his lips to that thumb and kiss it. Alva's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull away.
Paul had grown up in an orphanage. The boys and girls were separated for many things, including sleeping, and young people whose sexuality was budding had to find an outlet somewhere. The boys were there. They were close, and they were always available. Consequently, Paul had experimented with the boys until he was old enough to get sneaky and go off to secret hiding places with the girls. To this day, when things got really bad, Paul found the most security and familiarity with men. They provided the best comfort sex. It was not a constant thing at all anymore, but sometimes... every few years...
"Alva, I..." Paul leaned in closer. Alva still did not retreat. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling here. But I... I really... want to... kiss you. Would that..." Their lips moved closer and closer together. "...can I..."
"Paul..." Alva's voice was low and husky. "I've had feelings for you for quite some time. And I don't seem to be pulling away."
Very softly, slowly, Paul leaned in and kissed him, sucking lightly at his bottom lip, then the top one. When he pulled back, he was shaking. "That was nice."
Alva almost chuckled aloud at how innocent Paul sounded. "Would you like to go further?"
With an enthusiastic nod, Paul, acting on need mixed with desire, slipped his arms under Alva's and pulled him close. Alva held Paul tenderly, letting him lead whatever they were doing here. Paul leaned into another kiss, this one longer and more passionate, while they held each other. A hand slid into Alva's wavy hair and caressed it sensually. Paul moaned softly into his mouth. "You... you're getting me worked up," Paul confessed with a grin.
"The feeling's mutual," Alva smiled back. This time, he leaned in for the next kiss.
Paul took that kiss with absolute need. "You feel... so good... you're so warm. I love the way you feel in my arms."
Paul was a talker, while Alva showed how he felt through his passion. Still, he was surprised with Paul's aggression as Paul's tongue began to search in his mouth. A moan escaped him.
Neither had fully considered what they were doing, but at that moment, it didn't matter. To discuss it would have destroyed the mood they were caught up in.
Pulling away, Paul reached for the hem of Alva's shirt and tried to take it off over his head. He was fully committed to going through with this. But the injuries to his hands made it too painful. It looked like Alva would have to do most of the undressing... the touching... although, Paul would try. "Allow me."
Alva first unbuttoned Paul's shirt. Being mindful of the rosary, he pushed the shirt off his shoulders, then ran his hands over Paul's chest. Soft, gentle caresses. A kiss placed at his collarbone, down to his nipple, between them, close to Paul's bellybutton...
The entire time, Paul's eyes grew more and more excited and heated, and by the time Alva came up for air, he was moaning softly at each touch and kiss. Paul wasn't a big guy, but he did have muscular upper arms. His hairless chest heaved with excited breaths. "Uhh... now you?" Paul pawed helplessly at Alva's shirt.
Chuckling, Alva assured, "Don't worry, I'll get it done."
Alva, pulling his shirt off over his head, took Paul in his arms again and they kissed some more.
"Mmmm..." Paul moaned helplessly. When he broke the kiss, he licked his lips and stroked lovingly at Alva's hair. "I could kiss like that for about five more hours."
Chuckling again, Alva gestured to the head of the bed. "There isn't any reason we can't." He sighed longingly. "Whatever you need, Paul."
In the next minute, they had stripped off everything but their pants and lay on the bed next to each other, face to face. More sensual kissing. More caresses. More cuddling. Testing the waters, Alva reached down and stroked the front of Paul's pants. He found a hard, responsive lump.
"Muh!" Although Paul jumped unexpectedly, he still arched into Alva's hand. A whimpery moan escaped him. His cock responded by suddenly getting a little harder. Because Alva continued massaging there, Paul started to pant, looking at him with arousal in his eyes. He couldn't wait for Alva to wrap his hand around it and stroke him down.
It was as if Alva read his mind, because he moved closer to him so their skin touched. Their legs intertwined. Paul moaned out loud at that first touch of pelvis to pelvis. They were currently still dressed, but they could still feel it as their cocks rubbed together deliciously.
Paul wasn't able to help it. He gyrated rapidly against Alva, moaning with each bit of contact.
"No, no, Paul, slow down. Slow down..." Alva took hold of Paul's hips and stilled him forcefully.
"But you feel so good! Please don't stop! I want to bring you off," Paul pleaded.
"We're not stopping. Savor it," Alva said in a whisper. He kept hold of Paul's hips as he began to rub against him again, slow and sensual. "Ssssssavor iiiiiiiit..."
They kissed and panted into each other while working each other up, grinding slowly. Paul and Alva moaned into the intense, open-mouthed kisses. Paul's gauze-rough hands ran up and down Alva's chest and over his waist. This went on for a couple of minutes until Alva reached down to undo Paul's pants.
"Uhhh, yes, yes!" he cried, eagerly angling himself to make it easier for Alva to strip him.
It was a little cumbersome for Alva to get them both undressed without any help, but he managed. The time that it took him only prolonged the anticipation. Paul tried to assist him between wincing in pain at the use of his hands; he was better at pulling the pants down than unbuttoning them. Soon, they could move closer to each other and put skin to skin.
Alva wrapped his hand around both of their members and stroked up and down as he began to buck slowly against Paul. The moans that escaped him were much quieter and more subtle than the sounds that came from Paul; Paul had always been the more vocal one about his feelings.
"Uhhhhaaah, ahhh..." Paul crooned. Not holding back, he swayed his hips toward Alva's. That only made the pleasure more intense. He loved the way it felt to have Alva's hand wrapped around him, to have the other man's cock stroking against his own - it was intense, passionate, hot, every adjective he could think of! He reached down and caressed both sets of balls with his fingers, being careful not to aggravate his injuries, but working them enough to give them both a pleasurable massage.
"Mmmm, that's good, Paul," Alva moaned.
Their kisses became more and more desperate as they neared climax.
Panting harder, Alva growled out, "Paul!"
"Uhhhrrraaah!" Paul answered incoherently. He bucked hard into Alva's gyrations. A few seconds later, he came all over the two of them, shaking and making little moaning sounds. "Alva!" Paul cried out very close to Alva's mouth, riding out his orgasm.
Alva could feel Paul's breath on his lips as he came. "That's it, Paul. There we go. That's it now." A mere second later, Alva climaxed himself, eyes closed, a look of ecstasy on his face.
Their movements started to slow down even as Paul caught Alva's mouth up in a deep kiss. A few moments went by of looking into each other's eyes before Alva looked away. "I suppose... I should get a rag to clean us up," he remarked of the semen that had splattered their chests.
"Wait." Paul put a hand on his arm as he tried to roll over. "Don't be in such a hurry."
To Alva's surprise, Paul was eager and content to lie there almost naked with him, cuddling and kissing lightly for a good half hour. "I feel safe with you," Paul suddenly said as some sort of explanation.
"Things weren't always that way," Alva added.
Paul nodded. "I know."
Eventually, Alva did get the rag and wiped them both off. He wondered if he should get dressed now... or would Paul want something else? The way Paul was looking up at him... "Do you want to be alone now?" Alva asked.
After a short time of consideration, Paul shook his head. "No."
Alva took his cue and climbed back into bed. They cuddled together, Paul's back to Alva's front, under the covers. Alva softly stroked his fingers through Paul's hair. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that. What the Mothman did to you. No matter what knowledge we gained from that experience, I never wanted such pain for you."
Paul did not reply for a bit. Thinking. He finally said, "Thank you, Alva."
"Even so, I wouldn't trade these experiences for saner times." He swallowed hard. "They led me to you." Alva paused. "What about you? Do you feel any different about the circumstances under which we met?"
Paul, taking some time to consider what Alva had said, finally turned over on his back and looked up at him. "I wouldn't change them for anything."
And he kissed him.
Saner Times (c) 2006 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People
Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment & Touchstone Television