Paul's other hand touched under Gabriel's chin, fingers so gentle while the rest were viciously pressed into his skin.  It was a paradox, but Gabriel accepted this because at least some of Paul seemed like himself...  He heard the man's voice, once more its normal, delightfully cold tone, and the boy did exactly as ordered-- he looked back up into Paul's eyes, sharp and dangerous, and there was that smile, the one he loved so much...<br/><br/>But none of it lasted.  Just long enough for Paul to inspect Gabriel, see how he was falling apart, and then it was back to the fake version that so alarmed him.  His nails disappeared, leaving only their phantom sting and the faintest streaks of red droplets.  Those perfect hands made their way up his back, along his spine and ribs, but they felt wrong again...  If only they would pinch, would yank, would twist and pull and punish; then Gabriel would know he was forgiven...<br/><br/>There was that word again, said so sweetly it made Gabriel cringe.  He would do as told, would do anything to make up for his missteps... The boy pulled away and laid himself out, ignoring the shifting of the plug as he moved, and silently looked at Paul once he was in position.  His watchful gaze was still unsure, but hopeful.  Perhaps he could redeem himself in the man's eyes, perhaps he could still be worthy...