"Fuck you, Paul!"

"You're such a sad little boy, Bruno. Your vocabulary obviously stopped growing when you left school three years ago."

"F-f-fuck you," Bruno spat, wishing he had another mouthful of beer. He raised his glass to his lips, but Paul grabbed it out of his hand and set it on the table. "You wouldn't dare."

"I would, too!"

"Now, now, lover, you still can't decide whether to kiss me or kill me, can you?"

"I'm not sorry I broke the fucking windshield on your car, Paul. I'd do it again if I could."

"Hm…there you see, that's why you and I have a problem. You like throwing temper tantrums like the adolescent you barely are, while I simply can't abide any more of this, darling."

Bruno stared at the older man with tragic eyes. Earlier, when they had been in the bar, celebrating Bruno's 18th birthday, Paul decided that it was more than time to cut Bruno loose. "Now you can get the fuck out of my house," Paul had said with no more emotion than if he had suddenly taken it into his head to recite his grocery list.

Bruno had choked down a third of his beer before turning on Paul and spitting it into his face. He had run outside into the street, where Paul's beloved car was parked, and proceeded to total its windows.

"You're a heartless bastard, Paul," Bruno whispered through numb lips.

"Why, so I am," Paul replied blithely. Then his dark brown eyes grew chilly. "Get out."

"I have no place to go," Bruno protested.

"You've evidently mistaken me for someone who gives a shit."

"I love you!" Bruno cried out, hot tears splashing down his pale cheeks.

"I know."

Bruno doubled over in pain, howling hysterically, his hair covering his face. He wanted to hit something. Or someone. "It's my fucking birthday," he moaned.

"Think of it this way. I've just given you something to remember me by."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't," Paul contradicted. "You love me." Paul grinned triumphantly and Bruno peered at him through the silky curtain of his bangs, his first impulse to strike out at Paul and make him pay for the way he was treating Bruno.

"For two cents, I'd like to knock you down, Paul."

"For less than that, I'd like to see you fucking try, Bruno."

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" Bruno took a flying leap and tackled Paul, knocking the older man to the floor. He straddled his body with a tearful smile. "All I ever wanted was for you to love me, Paul."

Paul struggled half-heartedly under Bruno, giving in with a helpless sigh. "But I do, dear boy."

Bruno glared at him, his eyes darkening with every passing second until the intensity of his scrutiny unnerved Paul. "Do it. I dare you," Paul growled.

Bruno dove forward and captured Paul's face between his hands. He kissed him hard, his teeth nipping at Paul's bottom lip until it began to bleed. With a groan, he touched his fingertips to his lover's mouth and painted it red.

Paul looked like a garish caricature of himself. His eyes widened as he contemplated the beautiful young monster sitting astride him now. Unbearably aroused, Paul couldn't seem to do anything but stare.

Bruno's eyes glittered dangerously. The boy had always possessed a certain fey quality that Paul could not resist. He opened his mouth to protest the teenager's rough handling, only to be seized in Bruno's surprisingly strong grip again. "I think maybe things are gonna change 'round here, Paul."

Paul's tongue swept over his lips nervously and he tasted blood. "You mean after you get out?"

That was all the provocation that Bruno needed to give up his tenuous hold on what was left of his control. He ground his mouth against Paul's until he felt his lover surrender with an uncharacteristic whimper.

Paul's mind had trouble dealing with this side of Bruno. Paul plucked Bruno off the streets because he was young and malleable. His tough façade masked an inner vulnerability that Paul found quite appealing. Until he discovered just how jealous Bruno could be. Of other men, certainly, but mostly of the drugs that stole Paul away from him, capturing a part of him that Bruno could never have.

Paul was scared. Not for his life. He held himself in so little regard that he was resigned to an early death. But there was a reason he used drugs. He didn't want to feel this much. It was overpowering, all that emotion, and Bruno was filled with it, to the point where it spilled over, contaminating every place it touched.

"Get off," Paul whispered.

"No," Bruno responded with a mutinous pout of his lips. "I won't. I won't make it easy for you to give me up, Paul."

"Why are you like this?" Paul couldn't help but ask, though he was sure he knew the answer.

"I told you. I love you, you prick. I won't let you forget me. Not ever."

Paul swallowed hard. "I don't know if I can do this, Bruno," he said, vaguely stunned that there were tears coloring his voice.

Bruno's sooty eyelashes swept down, hiding his eyes for a moment. "Then I reckon I'll just have to love you enough for both of us," he said softly.

"You deserve better, baby." Paul reached up and stroked the side of Bruno's face.

"Of course I do," Bruno snapped belligerently. Then his entire face softened, the hard line of his mouth abruptly melting. "But I don't want better. I want you."

Paul kissed him and feeling raced throughout his body like so much sleepy fire. He rolled the two of them over, trapping Bruno beneath him. Bruno shuddered against him, his fists clenching in Paul's hair.

For once Paul allowed himself to feel everything that Bruno did to him. Warm, wet kisses that did everything the drugs used to do. He felt higher than high without even leaving the ground.

He reached inside Bruno's jeans and roughly cupped his erection. Bruno spread his legs and arched his hips, thrusting into Paul's hand until he came with a sigh. Paul shivered and buried his face against the side of Bruno's neck.

"Happy birthday, baby."

Bruno smiled without opening his eyes, his lover's body a comfortable weight on top of him.

He was marked for life. His.

End