Title: Forgiveness
Author: Bob J Montonelli
Pairing: Joe Renato/Lou Renato
Rating: hard R, soft NC-17
Summary: Post-ep for the pilot. Joe and Lou have a talk. And
thensome.
Warning(s): Incest. Capitol I. I-N-C-E-S-T. Incest.
Disclaimer: Not mine. CBS', Chris Haddock's. Be fun to own Lou,
though.
Joe Renato has been staring at the ceiling for forty-six minutes, at
least by his bedside clock. Hands behind his head, just staring,
and thinking.
//"Please forgive me. I'm sorry for what I did."//
Funny how it was him saying that once, or something like it. Funny
how it was him pleading for forgiveness one night in their bed in
the old apartment, when ma was asleep and pop was still alive. When
the apartment was so small they had to share a bed, and one night a
kiss.
He remembers it so damn clear, like it wasn't twenty-five years
ago. Remembers it like yesterday, he does.
//"Lou, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, will you stay?"
"I'll stay if you do it again."//
Remembers how warm he was when they couldn't afford to heat the
house and eat at the same time. Remembers how his long fingers
would dig deep into his hair and pull his scalp. Remembers the
taste of his skin, his lips, every inch of his body.
Remembers the first time when Lou didn't push him away. Remembers
being fifteen and every nerve in his body on fire, praying to god
that his parents wouldn't wake up and praying he would be forgiven,
praying he wouldn't go to hell if he had the brains not to tell the
priest at confession.
No one noticed. No one cared. They were just two brothers, two
close brothers who knew where their loyalties lay. No one ever
knew. Not even ma knew, and poppo would've killed them.
Ain't it funny, how life works? Turning around, shifting the
tables. Ain't it funny, Joe's thinking, how I was always searching
to be forgiven for what I did, and now here's Lou asking me that
same damn question.
How could he refuse his brother?
He's never once turned him away, never once refused the plea of
those pretty blue eyes.
//"I love you. I'll always love you."//
How could he have said it? He never said it before.
He never had to, though. They had known it, before Lou went away,
somehow they'd just known, through kiss and touch and touch and go,
that love was there, even if unspoken.
"I forgive you." He whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, and
he's not even sure it makes it past his lips. "I forgive you."
"I thought you might."
The low voice startles him. Right, Lou. Lou standing in the
doorway of his bedroom, looking like a little kid in the shadows and
moonlight. All lost like that. And how the hell *did* he know that
he'd forgive him?
Oh, right. He's his brother.
"I work for the FBI," Joe mutters, scrubbing his face tiredly, "I
shouldn't be that easy to see through."
"I know you," Lou whispers, and Joe hears the shuffle-scuffle of
sock on floor boards. "I know you better than any of those lowlifes
*ever* could." So vehement. Sounding so stupidly, damningly young,
even though he's not.
"You callin' my agents lowlifes?" He cracks, but then Lou's
turning, like to leave, and he can't let him leave again-"Wait-Lou.
Shit. Lou, wait-that's...that's not what I meant." He sighs. "Come
on. Sit down. Please."
Lou comes in and sits, far from Joe, too far, making the cheap old
bed creak with the extra weight. He looks painfully thin from this
angle, and Joe can just hear their grandmother, years ago, taking a
look at both of them, welfare-fed and half-wild and waving her spoon
with a "Mangia! Mangia! Eat, boys, eat!" He supposes it must be
prison, and prison food, and makes a mental note to go see ma as
soon as possible. With nonna dead, she's the next best thing.
"I'm sorry, Lou." He braces himself to apologize again. For
everything he's ever done. He's the big brother. He's supposed to
take care of Lou.
"Joe?" Lou asks, scuffling the floor again. A silly nervous
gesture he's always had, even when they were kids. "How come
whenever we're together, we always end up apologizin'?"
Joe sighs. Lou's right, of course. It always comes to happen.
Always. "I dunno, Lou."
"I missed you, Joey." Using the diminutive that can be at any given
time an endearment, an aggravation, or frighteningly arousing. Now,
though...after seven years away, he doesn't quite know what to make of
it. Nor of Lou curling in on himself, scooting back on the bed and
pulling his knees up to his chin. He gives a sidelong glance at
Joe, as if expecting-disappointment? Rejection?-"I really missed
you."
"I missed you too," he says. How could he not? They were...so much
to each other.
"I really am sorry. For what I did. I really am...I swear." And now
he's rigid, staring straight ahead, mouth drawn tight and down, so
taut he's shaking. Shaking like bad memories and the barrel of a
gun pointed right at you. It hurts Joe to see it, hurts him right
to the core, like a screwdriver taking a chunk out of his
heart. "I'll be good. This time, I will Joey. I will. I'll be
good. You *know* I will."
"Hey. Hey, Lou, it's okay," he soothes, reaching a hand out to touch
Lou's arm. "I know. You'll be fine. We'll find you a job tomorrow.
A good job, you'll see." He can see the look on Lou's face and
knows it clear from memory and his own experience. The struggle not
to cry, forcing back unmanly tears.
Lou swallows hard and looks right at him, eyes glistening. "Don't
you gotta work?"
"I can be late." For you. "Marcy can cover." For you, little
brother. He thinks. Because I love you, I can be late.
"I'm sorry I'm makin' ya' do all this, Joey."
"Hey," he grins, "what're brothers for?" A line they've traded
before, in the dark, in whispers of skin and voice. Joe rubs Lou's
taut arm gently, soothingly.
Lou smiles at him, a little quirk of the lips. Joe is up on his
knees now, stroking Lou's jet-black hair, leaning in, close, closer,
to touch, lips meeting in a soft snowflake lambswool brush, then
darting deeper, seven years of broken pieces coming together, and
this feels so good, so right, so safe. Lou unfolds his lanky body
and wraps his arms around Joe's neck, pushes him back down amidst
the comforter and sheets, all the while Joe kissing like he wants to
swallow Lou's mouth.
God, it's been so damned *long*...
"I *missed* you..." Lou repeats, a fierce mantra, "I missed *you*, so
bad, so damn bad Joey..."
"I know, Lou, I know..." he moans, gritting his teeth when Lou kisses
his neck, his chin, throat, collarbone... "I...I...missed you too..." he
gasps out. He knows he has to let Lou take this over, at least
tonight, because Lou needs it, needs to be safe and in control
again. He doesn't know what happened in prison, and it's not that
he doesn't care. He does. But he's not going to ask, and that's
not for right now, that's for Lou to decide, right now, oh, right
now...
Right now he's gonna lie back and let Lou take this over.
And Lou does, with abandon. Just like when they were kids, except...
no. Just a little slower, a little gentler. The eagerness is
there, hot and sweaty like the old playground slide in the summer,
but tempered. And then Joe gets it-Lou wants this to last. Wants
it a memory with a capitol M, the kind you revisit when you've got
nothing left to hold onto. He feels hot wetness on his chest that
has nothing to do with saliva, and it freezes him. Lou's crying
now, soundlessly, shoulders hitching with each kiss he plants on
bare skin.
"Hey. Easy, Lou. I'm right here. I love you. I ain't leaving."
He wraps his arms around Lou's back and rubs like he did when they
were kids and Lou would wake up from a nightmare and ma and poppo
were too exhausted from work to come and help. Back then, hell, it
was all he knew how to do.
He can do so much now, that he couldn't then.
"I missed you." Lou kisses him on the mouth, warm and salt from
tears, eyes open, blue on blue.
"I know."
Lou lies straight out beside him, and runs a hand up and down his
chest. He smiles through tears receding like snow in springtime.
He sniffles a little. The smile takes a familiarly predatory turn,
one Joe has seen before, one he can deal with.
"I want you." He murmurs. "Only you."
Another kiss, backed with seven years of hungry waiting, a dry-eyed,
warm and loving and honest kiss.
Joe knows, he *knows* it will never be like this with any of his
wives, never was and cannot be.
Lou draws slow circles on Joe's chest through the thin fabric of his
undershirt, mouth never once unlocking from his brother's, stroking
and groping and feeling old, tarnished memories come silver and
shine again. He slides his hand under the waistband of Joe's boxers
and drags his nails through a thick thatch of pubic hair, then grips
his cock and jerks him off, slow and easy-like, feeling Joe moan
into his mouth, vibrate his lips with muffled cries, jerking hard
and relaxing after a bare few minutes.
Joe touches him back, and his chest is bare, bared to Joe's hungry
tongue and lips and teeth, and it's been so damned long that he
comes in his shorts and feels almost like a fool except he can't,
not here, not now. And not with Joe looking at him all doe-soft in
the moonlight, bending down to give him a dragon's breath kiss,
wrapping his arms tight around him, kissing his hair, his face,
anywhere he can touch.
"I love you, Lou. Don't you ever forget that."
"I won't."
"Lou?"
"Yeah?"
"I forgive you."
He smiles, shifts and curls up under the comforter with Joe tangled
around him. "I thought you might."
Author: Bob J Montonelli
Pairing: Joe Renato/Lou Renato
Rating: hard R, soft NC-17
Summary: Post-ep for the pilot. Joe and Lou have a talk. And
thensome.
Warning(s): Incest. Capitol I. I-N-C-E-S-T. Incest.
Disclaimer: Not mine. CBS', Chris Haddock's. Be fun to own Lou,
though.
Joe Renato has been staring at the ceiling for forty-six minutes, at
least by his bedside clock. Hands behind his head, just staring,
and thinking.
//"Please forgive me. I'm sorry for what I did."//
Funny how it was him saying that once, or something like it. Funny
how it was him pleading for forgiveness one night in their bed in
the old apartment, when ma was asleep and pop was still alive. When
the apartment was so small they had to share a bed, and one night a
kiss.
He remembers it so damn clear, like it wasn't twenty-five years
ago. Remembers it like yesterday, he does.
//"Lou, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, will you stay?"
"I'll stay if you do it again."//
Remembers how warm he was when they couldn't afford to heat the
house and eat at the same time. Remembers how his long fingers
would dig deep into his hair and pull his scalp. Remembers the
taste of his skin, his lips, every inch of his body.
Remembers the first time when Lou didn't push him away. Remembers
being fifteen and every nerve in his body on fire, praying to god
that his parents wouldn't wake up and praying he would be forgiven,
praying he wouldn't go to hell if he had the brains not to tell the
priest at confession.
No one noticed. No one cared. They were just two brothers, two
close brothers who knew where their loyalties lay. No one ever
knew. Not even ma knew, and poppo would've killed them.
Ain't it funny, how life works? Turning around, shifting the
tables. Ain't it funny, Joe's thinking, how I was always searching
to be forgiven for what I did, and now here's Lou asking me that
same damn question.
How could he refuse his brother?
He's never once turned him away, never once refused the plea of
those pretty blue eyes.
//"I love you. I'll always love you."//
How could he have said it? He never said it before.
He never had to, though. They had known it, before Lou went away,
somehow they'd just known, through kiss and touch and touch and go,
that love was there, even if unspoken.
"I forgive you." He whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, and
he's not even sure it makes it past his lips. "I forgive you."
"I thought you might."
The low voice startles him. Right, Lou. Lou standing in the
doorway of his bedroom, looking like a little kid in the shadows and
moonlight. All lost like that. And how the hell *did* he know that
he'd forgive him?
Oh, right. He's his brother.
"I work for the FBI," Joe mutters, scrubbing his face tiredly, "I
shouldn't be that easy to see through."
"I know you," Lou whispers, and Joe hears the shuffle-scuffle of
sock on floor boards. "I know you better than any of those lowlifes
*ever* could." So vehement. Sounding so stupidly, damningly young,
even though he's not.
"You callin' my agents lowlifes?" He cracks, but then Lou's
turning, like to leave, and he can't let him leave again-"Wait-Lou.
Shit. Lou, wait-that's...that's not what I meant." He sighs. "Come
on. Sit down. Please."
Lou comes in and sits, far from Joe, too far, making the cheap old
bed creak with the extra weight. He looks painfully thin from this
angle, and Joe can just hear their grandmother, years ago, taking a
look at both of them, welfare-fed and half-wild and waving her spoon
with a "Mangia! Mangia! Eat, boys, eat!" He supposes it must be
prison, and prison food, and makes a mental note to go see ma as
soon as possible. With nonna dead, she's the next best thing.
"I'm sorry, Lou." He braces himself to apologize again. For
everything he's ever done. He's the big brother. He's supposed to
take care of Lou.
"Joe?" Lou asks, scuffling the floor again. A silly nervous
gesture he's always had, even when they were kids. "How come
whenever we're together, we always end up apologizin'?"
Joe sighs. Lou's right, of course. It always comes to happen.
Always. "I dunno, Lou."
"I missed you, Joey." Using the diminutive that can be at any given
time an endearment, an aggravation, or frighteningly arousing. Now,
though...after seven years away, he doesn't quite know what to make of
it. Nor of Lou curling in on himself, scooting back on the bed and
pulling his knees up to his chin. He gives a sidelong glance at
Joe, as if expecting-disappointment? Rejection?-"I really missed
you."
"I missed you too," he says. How could he not? They were...so much
to each other.
"I really am sorry. For what I did. I really am...I swear." And now
he's rigid, staring straight ahead, mouth drawn tight and down, so
taut he's shaking. Shaking like bad memories and the barrel of a
gun pointed right at you. It hurts Joe to see it, hurts him right
to the core, like a screwdriver taking a chunk out of his
heart. "I'll be good. This time, I will Joey. I will. I'll be
good. You *know* I will."
"Hey. Hey, Lou, it's okay," he soothes, reaching a hand out to touch
Lou's arm. "I know. You'll be fine. We'll find you a job tomorrow.
A good job, you'll see." He can see the look on Lou's face and
knows it clear from memory and his own experience. The struggle not
to cry, forcing back unmanly tears.
Lou swallows hard and looks right at him, eyes glistening. "Don't
you gotta work?"
"I can be late." For you. "Marcy can cover." For you, little
brother. He thinks. Because I love you, I can be late.
"I'm sorry I'm makin' ya' do all this, Joey."
"Hey," he grins, "what're brothers for?" A line they've traded
before, in the dark, in whispers of skin and voice. Joe rubs Lou's
taut arm gently, soothingly.
Lou smiles at him, a little quirk of the lips. Joe is up on his
knees now, stroking Lou's jet-black hair, leaning in, close, closer,
to touch, lips meeting in a soft snowflake lambswool brush, then
darting deeper, seven years of broken pieces coming together, and
this feels so good, so right, so safe. Lou unfolds his lanky body
and wraps his arms around Joe's neck, pushes him back down amidst
the comforter and sheets, all the while Joe kissing like he wants to
swallow Lou's mouth.
God, it's been so damned *long*...
"I *missed* you..." Lou repeats, a fierce mantra, "I missed *you*, so
bad, so damn bad Joey..."
"I know, Lou, I know..." he moans, gritting his teeth when Lou kisses
his neck, his chin, throat, collarbone... "I...I...missed you too..." he
gasps out. He knows he has to let Lou take this over, at least
tonight, because Lou needs it, needs to be safe and in control
again. He doesn't know what happened in prison, and it's not that
he doesn't care. He does. But he's not going to ask, and that's
not for right now, that's for Lou to decide, right now, oh, right
now...
Right now he's gonna lie back and let Lou take this over.
And Lou does, with abandon. Just like when they were kids, except...
no. Just a little slower, a little gentler. The eagerness is
there, hot and sweaty like the old playground slide in the summer,
but tempered. And then Joe gets it-Lou wants this to last. Wants
it a memory with a capitol M, the kind you revisit when you've got
nothing left to hold onto. He feels hot wetness on his chest that
has nothing to do with saliva, and it freezes him. Lou's crying
now, soundlessly, shoulders hitching with each kiss he plants on
bare skin.
"Hey. Easy, Lou. I'm right here. I love you. I ain't leaving."
He wraps his arms around Lou's back and rubs like he did when they
were kids and Lou would wake up from a nightmare and ma and poppo
were too exhausted from work to come and help. Back then, hell, it
was all he knew how to do.
He can do so much now, that he couldn't then.
"I missed you." Lou kisses him on the mouth, warm and salt from
tears, eyes open, blue on blue.
"I know."
Lou lies straight out beside him, and runs a hand up and down his
chest. He smiles through tears receding like snow in springtime.
He sniffles a little. The smile takes a familiarly predatory turn,
one Joe has seen before, one he can deal with.
"I want you." He murmurs. "Only you."
Another kiss, backed with seven years of hungry waiting, a dry-eyed,
warm and loving and honest kiss.
Joe knows, he *knows* it will never be like this with any of his
wives, never was and cannot be.
Lou draws slow circles on Joe's chest through the thin fabric of his
undershirt, mouth never once unlocking from his brother's, stroking
and groping and feeling old, tarnished memories come silver and
shine again. He slides his hand under the waistband of Joe's boxers
and drags his nails through a thick thatch of pubic hair, then grips
his cock and jerks him off, slow and easy-like, feeling Joe moan
into his mouth, vibrate his lips with muffled cries, jerking hard
and relaxing after a bare few minutes.
Joe touches him back, and his chest is bare, bared to Joe's hungry
tongue and lips and teeth, and it's been so damned long that he
comes in his shorts and feels almost like a fool except he can't,
not here, not now. And not with Joe looking at him all doe-soft in
the moonlight, bending down to give him a dragon's breath kiss,
wrapping his arms tight around him, kissing his hair, his face,
anywhere he can touch.
"I love you, Lou. Don't you ever forget that."
"I won't."
"Lou?"
"Yeah?"
"I forgive you."
He smiles, shifts and curls up under the comforter with Joe tangled
around him. "I thought you might."