Bruno swiped a hand across his eyes and stifled a sob. He regretted every single time he opened his mouth to argue with Paul. Yes, Paul was a bastard, but he was his bastard, dammit. He'd tried to forget him. Hell, he'd even tried to find someone else.

But that was sheer disaster. He'd come to in a stranger's bed, his arms and legs tied so tightly that he couldn't feel them. When he'd protested that he really wasn't into S & M, his captor merely laughed and reminded him where he'd found Bruno.

"You fuck Paul, don't you? If that's not bloody destructive, I dunno what is."

Bruno struggled against his bonds, moaning when he found that he couldn't get free. "Let me go, you stupid fuck."

"Or what?" The stranger leaned in close and blew cigarette smoke in Bruno's face. "You're a real whiny bitch, you know that?"

"Fuck off!" Bruno shouted, groaning in frustration. Paul was never going to take him back. Bruno couldn't even get into the apartment. Paul changed all the locks in a moment of utter vindictiveness and Bruno didn't have the new key.

"I should fuck you just to show you what you've been missing," said the man, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

"Go ahead! I don't care!"

The stranger snorted derisively. "If you think that prick is going to find you and save you, you're sadly mistaken, kid. Paul doesn't give a shit what happens to you anymore. Maybe he never did."

Bruno turned his head, trying desperately to cover his face with his hair. He didn't want to cry in front of this asshole. But he was afraid that he was right about Paul. Whatever they had once, it was gone. Paul wouldn't mind if he got his ass reamed a few times. He might even find it amusing.

A noise at the door alerted both of them that someone was in the hallway. Bruno twisted his body around in an effort to see who it was, but the movement simply made him feel more vulnerable. He was naked and there was no disguising the series of fresh bruises that already decorated his pale skin.

His only saving grace was that he couldn't get it up. Bruno would rather die than submit willingly to this motherfucker's sadistic idea of lovemaking.

"Well, well, if it isn't Captain Cavalier," came a voice from behind Bruno.

The stranger blinked slowly, momentarily confused by Paul's sudden appearance. "How'd you get in here?"

Paul brandished a shiny new lockpick with a triumphant grin. "Gets me into all sorts of places."

"So…you're a bloody thief as well as a wanker."

"Hm…I don't think I've ever seriously considered wanking anything more than a hobby, but I'm flattered that you think I could turn professional," Paul replied silkily.

Bruno hid his face against the soiled pillow beneath his head. He couldn't bear for Paul to see him like this. Oh, he didn't care if Paul knew he fucked around on him. After all, he wasn't Paul's responsibility any longer. But he had to eat and a good blowjob kept him fed, albeit not for very long. But he didn't want to be this stranger's whore. In his head and his heart, he still belonged to Paul.

"I say, are you having fun, dear boy?" Paul asked Bruno. Bruno refused to look at Paul, preferring the pain of unlined restraints cutting into his flesh to the humiliation of being rescued like a bloody girl. "I mean, if you are, I can leave-"

"Go ahead," Bruno muttered, his voice catching in his throat.

"That does look a bit painful-"

"That's the bloody idea!" Bruno shouted at him, his blue eyes luminous with unshed tears.

"Oh. I see. So you like having the living crap beaten out of you. You should have told me. I would have obliged."

"I bet you would!" Bruno screamed, pulling futilely at his restrained hands.

Paul's dark brown eyes slid sideways towards the stranger who seemed totally disinterested in either one of them. "Do you have a light?" Paul asked, plucking a cigarette out of his pocket.

"Yeah," answered the stranger, never stopping to think what an odd question that was, given the present circumstances.

The other man fished in his jeans for his lighter and offered it to Paul. Paul smiled, his eyes cool and calculating, as he proceeded to light his cigarette. "Thanks, my dear."

Caught off-guard, Bruno's captor permitted himself a brief smile. "No problem."

"Y'know, you really should be playing with boys your own age. I'm afraid poor Bruno here is just not in your league."

The other man's smile broadened. "You got that right, mate."

"Of course, I really don't appreciate the careless way you've been handling my property, but-"

"*Your* property?" the man exclaimed incredulously.

"That's right. His ass belongs to me. Doesn't it, Bruno?"

"I thought you didn't want me anymore, Paul," Bruno whispered, wishing there was a hole in the floor through which he could disappear.

"I always want you, dear boy. It's just that sometimes I can't fucking stand the sight of you. But that doesn't mean I have any intention of letting anyone else get his hands on you."

"Whatever," Bruno whimpered brokenly into his pillow.

Paul's eyes hardened at the sight of his young lover's abused body. No one could be allowed to get away with such desecration. His skin, which seemed curiously untouched by the sun, was one of the most beautiful things about him. Bruno might be hopelessly outclassed in most areas, but he was a skillful lover who deserved better. Much better.

"So…" Paul announced in stentorian tones as he wheeled around to face the hapless stranger. Suddenly his hand was filled with hot metal as he pulled out a gun. "Where would you like to be shot?"

"What?" the man cried.

"I'm afraid I'm not a very good shot," Paul admitted. "But I can manage to hit something important. So don't move…unless you'd like to find out how bad my aim really is."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to untie Bruno and help him into his clothes," Paul said quite cheerfully. "That shouldn't be too difficult. Even for you."

The man began doing as he was told. But not silently. "You're crazy, you know that?"

"Hm…I've always thought it in the poorest of taste for someone to question the sanity of someone holding a gun. But then…that's me," Paul added with a chuckle.

Bruno's subjugator finished untying Bruno and stood unsteadily. "The kid can dress himself. Now why don't you two get the hell out?"

Bruno swayed on his feet, his flaccid manhood suddenly stirring to life between his legs. He cursed himself for being six kinds of fool and not for the first time, he found himself wishing  that his relationship with Paul wasn't so fucking complicated.

"Paul…"

"I'm here, baby. Come." Paul held out his arms and Bruno stepped into his embrace, clinging to the familiar lanky frame with unaccustomed ferocity.

"I missed you," Paul whispered into Bruno's hair. He wanted to sink into that soft young body right where he stood, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Bruno's ex-captor.

"You two fucking deserve each other, if you ask me," the other man growled.

"Why, thank you," Paul replied brightly without dropping his gun hand. "The wedding's in June. I think Bruno would look lovely in white taff, don't you?"

Bruno shuddered against Paul's chest. "I don't like him, Paul. Make him go away. Please."

"Of course." Paul smiled one last time, but his eyes were distinctly chilly as they found their target. "Good night now."

The bullet tore a good-sized hole in the stranger's knee. With a sharp gasp, the man clutched his leg and fell to the ground, almost at the same time. "You shot me!"

"You do have a positive talent for stating the obvious, don't you?" Paul asked good-naturedly.

"You fucking shot me!"

"Hm…you're getting a bit tiresome, my dear. Would you like me to put you out of your misery?"

With a yelp, the man disappeared into the next room, hobbling as best he could.

"Are you all right, baby?" Paul asked, turning to his lover. Bruno was tremulous, great shivers wracking his lithe young body.

Paul cupped Bruno's chin in his hands and gently tipped his face up. "What is it?"

"I want to go home," Bruno whispered, tears overrunning his vivid blue eyes to streak down his pale cheeks.

"All you had to do was ask, baby."

Their lips met and merged as their bodies strained to get closer.  "You mean it, Paul?"

Paul kissed his lover's forehead tenderly. "My own sweet boy…I always mean it."

"I love you, Paul."

"And so you should," Paul agreed. His breath puffed out, disturbing the lock of hair that fell across Bruno's face.

"In my own twisted way…I love you, too," Paul murmured, closing his dark eyes against an unfamiliar wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

End