Date: Wed, 14 May 2003 04:55:11 -0400
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: Made in heaven, chapter 13

MADE IN HEAVEN
by Stefan


Chapter 13: That's why I keep on running


    "Looks as if Luan is having problems at home." Wolfgang waved a letter
and sat to the others in the coffee corner.

    "Problems?" Philipp could hardly hide a hopeful undertone in his voice.

    "Well, his father has become seriously ill."

Maxim knew that Luan's whole family was poor and lived rather after a
fashion from rice and fruits they sold in the next town. Earth and water
were still poisoned from the US-Army and there was nobody to help. The GDR
once offered to young Vietnamese the ability to work in East-Germany to
earn enough money to return home after several years. Luan had belonged to
this group. He often told his colleagues about his life in a ghetto called
student's hostels. They weren't allowed to leave the town, nor to marry or
have children. After the fall of the wall, the Vietnamese went underground
in the big town, and those who lost their work tried to survive with
joining the black market for cigarettes they imported from Poland.

    "He has to help his family", Wolfgang continued.

    "But couldn't he help his family better in earning money here and then
sending it?" Nadine asked.

    "Still he ponders what's better. He needs some time to sort it
out. I'll leave him the option to come back." Wolfgang's eyes touched
Philipp. "We have a good substitute. But I feel pity for him."

    "Like we all", Maxim sighed.

    "Perhaps we can make a collection for him. Regularly", Tim pondered. It
hadn't been unusual to gather money for the people in Vietnam they were be
friends with. They all agreed. "But let's wait to see what Luan decides",
Wolfgang finished. "Perhaps we can organize another reading", he said
winking.


Two weeks had passed since Maxim's birthday. It was the start of
September. The heat shield was broken, and the weather had turned to a calm
and steady string of pleasant days; certainly a relief after the merciless
heat. Berlin had returned to its daily business, the holidaymakers
returned, the town overcrowded again, but with them the customer were back
and the staff of "Prinz Eisenherz" had a lot of work to master. But each
one of them loved their job and sparkled with enthusiasm. Maxim wasn't an
exception. After the memorable night of his birthday, Christian had a
better grip on himself. Maxim had forgiven his attack and strange behavior
a long time ago. Deep within he was even somehow proud that Christian was
so mad for him. Who had thought that this would happen... after those long
and lonely days that were filled with dreaming of him.

Around noon his mobile rang. It was Christian asking for a mutual
lunch. Philipp next to him, packing packages with ordered books, looked at
him from the corner of his eyes. It was obvious to him that Maxim was happy
again, and he and Chris had sorted out whatever little problems they had
had. He carried the parcels to the cash desk and put them into the shelves
behind. Tim was serving customers. When they were gone Philipp said "Chris
comes."

Tim looked mutely at him. He had given up the hope of a chance Maxim could
drop Christian and be free for him.  "So what", he said. "Do you still
think Maxim's in danger?" He turned and started to sort the packages with
the name tags in alphabetical order.  Philipp pulled him closer. Neither
noticed that Christian entered the shop.

    "What does it mean?" Phil said angry. "Of course I think Chris is an
asshole and Maxim still wears his rosy glasses. If he knew what we know!"

    "Don't dare to tell him." Tim said sharply.

    "Man, you're really a saint. Do you want Maxim or not? Gregor has told
me more things than you can imagine. You and I can't imagine what's it like
to live with a man mad for love. No, not mad for love, I don't think that
has anything to do with love. If you love you want the best. You don't
torture, you don't harm, and you don't rape", Philipp hissed. "Have you
seen the ring he's wearing? Chris offered that same ring to me not long
ago. He wanted to marry me, and now Maxim has it around his finger. How
very inventive!" He moaned. "Don't you see that he just copies his own
actions? Maxim isn't important at all, as long as Chris can dominate."

Tim dropped his head. He knew Phil was right. He had seen the ring, but he
didn't dare to ask, in case he would receive an invitation to the marriage
as well. Funny. Then they could hold a double-marriage. And Philipp had
mentioned just now the reason for Tim's hesitation: if you love, you want
the best. Tim wanted Maxim's best, and if it was his dearest wish to be
with Christian, so be it.

Philipp shook him. "Say something. Do you want him or not?"

Tim freed himself. "Not for that price." He wouldn't admit how much of
strength it cost him to work with Maxim and to see him most of the
day. Sometimes he felt so sick he would liked to stay in bed. He knew that
Moritz and Tobias worried about him, but they couldn't help. It would be
better for all of them if Tim would go away and look for another place to
work.

    "Oh god, not for that price!" Philipp moaned.  "What price? Don't be so
despondent! You have so much more to give than Chris."

    "And what shall this be, eh? I'm so 'despondent', so 'hesitating', so
'reluctant'! Even you can't bring yourself to fall in love with me."

Philipp stared at him. "You're wrong", he said low. "I can easily. But your
heart belongs to another. I don't want to be second." Then he shook his
head. "Not important. Chris always has good intentions. But someone said
once 'The best intentions can cause the greatest harm.' For instance when
the good intentions are not directed to the welfare of your beloved but
strictly on your own. That's what Chris is doing. If Maxim doesn't see it
he's stupid."

    "He's in love." Tim objected. "You have no clue how long he has been in
love with Chris. He watched you both and hoped you would break up and that
his wish would come true. And then it did. How do you think he could admit
that he made a fool of himself because Chris wasn't worth the wait?"

    "Then they make a good pair and win the prize for stubbornness",
Philipp spat out.

    "You needed a long time to find out yourself", Tim said. "Four years."

    "Yeah, I know. I was too young. But my eyes are open now, and Maxim
isn't that young and innocent."

    "Will you meet Gregor again?"

Philipp nodded. "After work." Something sparkled in his mulberry eyes. Tim
saw it. "There's something going on between you both", he stated.

    "Perhaps. Although two burnt kids shy away from fire." Conciliatorily
he continued, "let's go and have a break. You're way to thin, you need
something between your teeth."

Tim felt sick by the mere thought. "Go alone. I'm not hungry."

    "Nonsense, come with me. I'll coddle you." He dragged Tim with him.

Christian, around the corner, waiting for Maxim to get ready, clenched his
teeth. He had heard enough. So little Gregor had talked, who had imagined
this. Certainly he had thought that Gregor was too traumatic to speak about
it. What should he do? Have a word with Phil or rather with Gregor? And Tim
was indeed in love with Maxim like he had always feared?

To lose Maxim was now something beyond his understanding. He was much too
besotted with his eyes, with his body and with his vivid spirit, even if it
caused him trouble. But this was something that spurred Christians
actions. He had broken the will of all of his lovers so far. Why should
Maxim be an exception.

    "Are we going?" Maxim stood in front of him, smiling. Without thinking
Christian embraced him and started to kiss him passionately. When Maxim was
able to realize his surroundings again, he heard salacious whistling from
guys around them. Embarrassed he grinned and rushed to leave the bookshop
with Christian.

    "Luan won't probably come back", Maxim said while they sat in a bistro
outside.  "Perhaps Philipp will take over his job then for good." He
watched Christian's face. He had it under control even if his smile
appeared a bit strained. "Good for him", he managed to say. "I suppose he
still keeps his fingers off of you?"

Christian may have had his face under control but not his voice. It was
sharp. Maxim just rolled his eyes. Christian's jealousy was pissing him
off. Albeit all of his flattered feelings he had. "Leave it, Chris. I
thought we discussed it; I'm not interested in him and vice versa."

Christian leaned forward. "And what about little angel? If you'd stretch
out your finger he would straight away jump into bed with you. It's
plastered all over his face. I don't understand why you can't see it."

    "I can see it", Maxim answered calmly. "I'm not blind, you know." They
sized up each other. Maxim knew the familiar, warm feeling Tim left in his
stomach. Tim was just lovely. He was uncomplicated, he was good to talk to,
he was intelligent. His reluctance was challenging: Maxim caught himself
quite often thinking how it would have been if they had allowed their
feelings to come out, those morning that seemed so long ago now. He
remembered his kiss very well. He remembered his body very well. Now Tim
seemed to be down in the dumps. His face was stern and he constantly lost
weight. What if he was ill, Maxim thought suddenly. He knew it was time for
friendly talk between them, but Maxim feared it. What if Tim would confess
his love? Maxim wasn't sure if he could trust himself then. Tim was an
allurement.

Maxim jerked. There he was, Tim together with Philipp walking side by side,
shoulders and hands touching like lovers. "There you are. Phil's rather
interested in our little angel", Maxim said.

    "Do I hear a bitter undertone?" Chris said following Maxim's eyes.

   "Bitter? Gosh, Chris! What do you want? If Tim's in love with me, you
complain. When Tim's together with Phil you complain as well. I have to
return." He rose. "I'm going to the bar tonight. Are you coming with me?"

    "No, go alone. I have to work." Christian's voice was almost hostile.

    "See you later then." Maxim touched Christian's shoulder. "Don't forget
to feed Coco."


Maxim's brain was working. Had he reacted wrong? Why Chris didn't want to
come with him? Of course he had to work, his contract was time
consuming. On the other hand, if he let him go without flipping over
mistrust... perhaps he was then on the road to recovery.

Maxim opened the door to the bookshop. Philipp and Tim gave him long
glances.  Without a word Maxim started to help Nadine.



Philipp and Nadine had finished work, Tim and Maxim stayed until closing
time.  They hadn't spoken much, but Maxim had often sensed his eyes on him.
"Something special in mind for tonight?" he asked.

Tim shook his head.

    "Fancy a drink?"

Tim's eyes lit up. Maxim smiled.


Dario winked conspiratorially and greeted both like friends. Maxim wondered
what happened to the barkeeper. He never had been that friendly. Maxim
greeted some of the regulars while he made his way to the piano, lifted the
cloth from it, opened the lid and playfully tried some keys. At midweek the
audience was even more older than it was at weekends. Tim meanwhile stood
at the bar, waiting for Dario to mix some drinks. "Alcohol I assume, since
you aren't with your father, eh?" Dario screw up one eye and grinned
amused.

    "Don't be tight with it", Tim said.

    "Ah! So you want to make him drunken, yes? To get into his pants, eh?"

    "Nonsense."

Dario pushed over deep blue drinks in iced glasses, decorated with lemon
slices.  "How comes he's alone tonight? Or rather, why's he with you and
not with lovely Christian?"

Tim shrugged. "Chris's busy."

Dario's eyes gleamed. "And you gladly play the fill-in, yes?"

    "Yes. What can I do. You said, there's always a possibility when you're
in love with someone. I use mine now."

    "Good luck, honey."


Tim had listened to Maxim's spirited version of Offenbach's "Barcarole" and
Mancini's romantic "Moon River". The audience applauded and Tim's cheeks
reddened with pride. He had got all of the visitors to start dancing,
including himself.  There was the overweighed regular again who seemed to
be wild about Tim. Last time when he was here with his father and Tobias he
had pestered him already.  And today he was standing there, right on the
cue to the start of Maxim's music, and hugged him that much that Tim
appeared like a little forlorn bird between his mighty arms. Maxim laughed
amused at him. He remembered that he had to free him before from Roland's
paws. That was the evening of the drunken night they had spent together...

The ice melted slowly in his cocktail glass. Maxim decided to give it a
break and rescue Tim. But then he saw Roland accompany Tim to his place and
he sighed.  Taking the glass with him, he went over to the table. "Sorry,
Roland, but I have to talk some private words with Tim." Roland's face,
young and smooth like a baby's butt, glistened moist from sweat. But he
didn't make a scene and vanished to his usual place in the darkest corner
of the bar.

Tim's heart started to flutter. "What's so important Roland shouldn't
know?"

    "Sorry to interrupt your conquest, Timmy. Actually there's nothing
important.  I just wanted to have you for a few minutes."

Tim looked suspiciously. "Nothing important? Well, you play so well. Do you
have new music?"

Maxim nodded. "From my parents." He hesitated. "You know, Chris borrowed a
concert piano for me. I can have my exercises whenever I want."

Tim whistled through his teeth. "Concert piano? In an apartment? That's
wasted money I'd say."

    "Yeah, but it's the thought that count. I haven't told him that a
simple piano would had been good enough."

   "He's always exaggerating with each thing he does, right?" Tim threw in.

    "What do you mean?"

    "Oh, nothing. I just have the impression that Chris is invincible. He's
like the fair god Apollo himself. Bright like the sun. Infallible."

Maxim glared at Tim but said nothing. He didn't know what to think of Tim's
words. Was he pulling his leg or was it meant as a bitter parody of
Christian?  "He writes poems you know." Maxim wasn't sure why he said
this. Perhaps to put Chris into a better light.

    "For you?"

    "Some of them."

Tim resisted the question if they were good or not. Maxim in his state of
being lovesick would find a fart wonderful. "Good for you", he said
reserved and sipped at his blue cocktail. It was almost finished. "You want
another?" he asked. Maxim nodded. "This goes on me."

Tim watched him exchanging some words with Dario. Friendly words it seemed.
Then he caught a despaired look from Roland, sitting alone in the
corner. He felt very pity for him, but he couldn't play the good Samarian
for everybody.

Dario grinned behind Maxim's back when he returned with two
cocktails. "That doofus!" Maxim growled. "Guess what he told me." He
plopped upon the sofa.  "He said he wanted Chris for his own, because he's
never seen a hotter man before, and I could console myself with you
meanwhile. If I had eyes to see, I'd notice how much you're in love with
me." Maxim laughed and sucked at his straw.

Tim got beet red. "That's what he said?", he managed to say. He fixed Dario
a look and received a kiss blown. Quickly he thought: what the hell, and
said "Well, that's true, of course." He turned fully to Maxim, took his
glass and sat it back to the table. "Come, dance with me. Make Roland
jealous."

Maxim was too stunned to object. He followed Tim, and they were soon
mingled with the rest of the dancers. Tim pulled him tight. "I guess I've
told you before I like you very much, it should be obvious." Tim's dark
eyes searched Maxim's face for agreement, but it remained empty. Maxim had
forgotten everything he wanted to ask, about Tim's loss of weight or about
his relationship with Philipp. His mind was reeling and he felt light as a
feather. His feet scarcely touched the dusty ground... "What was in there?"
he managed to say.

Tim looked innocently. "What was in what? The cocktail? Well, alcohol I
assume."

    "Yeah," Maxim giggled. "Confess, you want to make me drunk and finish
what we've started." He focussed his eyes on Tim's face. "Right?"

    "Right." Tim neared his lips to Maxim's and started to kiss him. Oh
yes, Maxim remembered them well, those mind blowing kisses. Philipp was
lucky to receive them each night.... "That's true, isn't it?"

    "Huh?" Tim muttered, his lips still glued with Maxim's.

    "Phil's so lucky."

Tim kissed now his cheekbones and sucked at the earlobes. "Lucky? Why's he
lucky? Because he's got rid off Chris?"

    "No, yes..."

Tim sucked at Maxim's underlip. To Dario, seen from the distance, it seemed
at if they were on the brink of having sex right there on the floor.  He
grinned insidiously.

    "Phil has that kind of kisses each night, isn't it so?" Maxim's arms
clutched Tim's body. He felt the slender feature; it was pleasant to touch,
and not that bony as he feared. "You both denied a relationship but I've
seen you yesterday."

    "Huh?" Tim loosened his body a little from Maxim's grip. "What you're
talking about?" Then, suddenly bold and drunken for lust he whispered,
"come to my place, will you? I can write you a love poem if you like. I bet
it's better than Chris'."

Maxim's grin vanished. With a start he was sober again. "I can't come with
you..." he stammered. "Chris would scream bloody murder when I wouldn't
come home tonight." It should be a joke, but Maxim felt the truth in there.

    "Then let him scream!" Tim tugged at Maxim's black shirt. He had it
almost out of his jeans. "Are you really happy? Or are you rather in
Sascha's position? A dream fulfilled and you wished you had never uttered
this wish?" His brown-amber eyes were huge in front of Maxim's face.

    "How do you know?"

    "Are you happy?"

Without thinking Maxim said "Yes." Instantly he felt Tim's arms falling off
his body. He bit his lips. "Well, then," he said.

    "How do you know?" Maxim repeated his question. They had stopped
turning to the music and it was as if only the two of them were on the
dance floor.

    "I know nothing", Tim said disappointed. "But sometimes I have the
feeling you aren't as happy as you should be.. I only wished..."  he shut
his mouth.

Maxim watched his lips, wet from his saliva, glistening invitingly. "What
do you wish?"

    "I wish you would talk." Tim debated with himself. Should he tell him
what he knew or not? Should he suppress his own welfare in favour of
Maxim's? What if he would help him in talking about Christian's and
Gregor's past? What if he could hinder bad things happening?

Maxim saw it working behind Tim's forehead. "You know something? Tell me,
Timmy. Is there anything I should know? Anything Phil told you about
Christian?" Suddenly he got engaged. "You know, sometimes he's really
strange. It has something to do with his past", he bubbled. His hands had
found Tim's neck and was stroking the brown hair with the blond strands in
it. "You must tell me if you know more than I do. It's important. I don't
know what to do when he's so ... far away."

Tim shook off Maxim's hand. It cost him a lot to move his body from
him. "If there's anything ask Gregor. That's Chris' ex-lover. Philipp has
met him several times. Right now he's with him, and as for your question
about me and Phil. I guess he's fallen for Gregor. Not for me."

Maxim shook his head. "But why don't you tell me?" he insisted.

    "Why should I tell you horror stories? He's good to you, yes? Does he
hit you? I suppose no."

    "What horror stories? It can't be that bad."

    "No. You wouldn't believe it anyway."

Tim turned with a defined move and went back to their table, finished his
cocktail in one go and then swayed afterwards. He held out Maxim's glass
and he too washed it away. "You don't come with me?"

Maxim shook his head sadly.

Tim started a last desperate try. "The ring," he pointed to Maxim's
hand. "Are you engaged? You want to marry? Don't you think it's a little
bit too early for that?"

    "I don't have the intention to marry. It's Chris' birthday's gift. He
said he would be happy if I'd wear it. It would give him hope."

   "Hope..." Tim said pensively. "So it's true. Phil said the ring was
meant for him. Chris wanted to marry him."

Maxim felt a bucket of ice cubes running down his spine. So that was the
actual meaning of the rings in the glass case. A memento for unrealized
dreams; or dreams refused. Apparently Phil didn't want to marry either, and
Chris had now found somebody else... who also refused to marry
him. Considering Christian's despair he had held his composure well, but
why was he so obsessed with a marriage?

Tim looked at Maxim. He knew very well he had said too much. But it
couldn't be undone and anyway, he felt a malicious glee having spilled out
some of Christian's secrets. That would give Maxim something to chew on.

Maxim stared down at the ring. It was second-best. He himself was just
second-best. Actually he wanted Philipp for a lifetime long. And what was
with Gregor? Did he want to marry him too? When he looked up he found Tim's
eyes resting on him. He couldn't read them. He thought he saw pity, or was
it compassion?

   "Are you sure you don't want to come with me?"

Maxim shook his head. He heard the electronic melody of his mobile phone,
pulled it out and saw Christian's number. Nervously he pressed the
button. "Darling?" he heard Christian's voice. "Still at the bar? Oh, I
hear the noise. So, shall I come?"

Maxim nodded. "Yes, I'm waiting."

    "Better you go", he said to Tim. "Chris's coming to pick me up."

He received a strange look from Tim. "How wretched you have to hide your
friend when your boyfriend is coming."

Tim turned and went straight out.





Philipp hadn't noticed that Christian lay waiting to tail him when he came
out of the bookshop. It was so easy. He just had to follow Phil's little
Nissan which would lead him straight away to Gregor. He just hoped Phil
wouldn't spend the night with him, otherwise he had to get a second plan
working which was to face both of them instead of Gregor alone.

The shadows became long and he became bored as time passed. He finally saw
Phil's dark red shock of hair coming out of the house, and Christian
breathed a sigh of relief.  Probably Gregor was cured from all of his
men-tales. Perhaps he had learnt his lesson while he had laid in hospital,
pondering what was the cause for his injuries. Certainly it had been his
own fault. If he hadn't fuck with every guy in town, Christian wouldn't
have become that seriously dangerous. The little voice in his head told him
that it was of no use to always blame others for his own failures, but he
shushed it. Doesn't the end justify the means? Or so it is said. And who
was Gregor, who was Philipp and consequently: who was Maxim to make a fool
out of Christian? He was the master of the situation.

Without circumstances he stepped out of his car, looked for the right name
on the name tags, and rang. "It's me", he said into the loud
speaker. Gregor probably was thinking it was Philipp again. It buzzed and
Christian pushed open the door.


He saw Gregor's face pale. Good, he thought, knowing he still had some
influence.  Hastily he pushed himself between Gregor and door frame and was
in the flat before Gregor could shut the door.

    "I see you made friends?" he asked, going directly into the living
room. He looked around. It was a tiny flat, a single room in which the
couch could apparently be made into a bed. There were no signs of a hot
dally. Too bad. That would had been the right thing to spur Christian's
anger. If necessary.

He turned quickly to Gregor who was standing behind him with his arms
hanging and his fists clinching. "What do you want? How do you know my
address?"

Christian laughed. "Oh, honey, that was easy. Phil was leading the way."

    "Ok, and what do you want?"

    "As I said... I've heard you made friends with Philipp." He looked
around. "Doesn't look like as if you succeeded with your powers of
persuasion. Or was it a quickie standing?" He grinned devilish.


    "I still don't know what you want." Gregor's body was tensed like a
bow, ready to protect himself or to attack, whatever Christian's intentions
might be. He made a step back when Christian came closer. "You know what I
mean. You haven't shut your mouth. You were talking", he hissed. "And I
thought our little secret would be safe. I've sat much too long in custody
with the shrinks and their like for you to begin running your snivley
little mouth." He still came closer and with his forefinger now stressing
each word he said, tapping on Gregor's breast, "Of course I could tell you
the same I've told the shrinks, I've realized my failure. It isn't meant to
harm anyone. Does that make me psycho?  Can I not decide right from wrong?
Can I not distinguish between love and hate? There is an edge where normal
jealousy turns pathologic. They call it the "Othello-syndrome". You see, I
know what I am doing. I know each scientific term they called me. But what
they don't know is, that I do it out of love." He paused and his diamond
eyes had turned to a deep grey. Veiled. As if he was talking to himself,
searching is inner being. "What is wrong with love? Haven't I given you
everything you needed? And that's the thanks I get?"

Gregor shook his head. "You still haven't told me what you want. Am I
forbidden to talk to one of your ex-lovers?" Gregor tried to keep his voice
under control. He had tried to learn to master confrontations in long
sittings with a therapeutic group. Today he had to prove what he had
learnt. Considering his trembling legs it wasn't much.

    "Of course you are forbidden to talk! Haven't I told you?" Suddenly
Christian turned round and walked through the room. He stopped by the
window and the writing table beneath it, examined books. "Penal Code, I
see. So which sections are you now going to use? Are you searching for the
right article to sue me for illegal entry of your house and browbeating?"
He turned once more to face Gregor. "What is the penalty for rape? Or isn't
it punished when it comes to gays? Does it exist? Rape among gays?" He
laughed shortly. "I'm sure heteros think a faggot is so horny you can't
rape him, you just do what he's waiting for. Am I right?" Christian opened
the buttons of his trousers.

Gregor started to tremble.  He stared at Christian's hands, opening one
button after the other until he could see he was wearing nothing beneath
his jeans. He swallowed hard and quickly pondered the possibilities. He had
nothing with which to protect himself. But he didn't step aside when
Christian came slowly closer, trousers open, so he could see the blond
pubic hair over his genitals. "You always loved it, didn't you", Chris'
voice was soft and gentle and Gregor swallowed once more. "We were mad for
each other. We had the best sex I can imagine."

Christian stopped in front of him. Then his face contorted to a
surprisingly, genuine smile. "Don't be afraid. You don't think seriously I
could harm you? What happened those times - the last time - I was mad for
fear of losing you. I always was afraid to lose you. Don't you remember?"

He put his hands upon Gregor's shoulders and pulled him closer. Gregor
tried to resist, but being a half head shorter, and somewhat weak willed,
he gave in and buried his head in Christian's hair and sniffed the all too
familiar scent. He hadn't changed.  "Can't you remember the minutes when
you've found me in the bath tub, with all the red water around me? I hadn't
learnt how to open my veins the right way.  Now I know, and I would do it
again.  A life without you was not worth living."

He lifted Gregor's face. "Look at me and tell me you don't love me
anymore. Haven't you thought of me all the time while we were apart? I
thought of you when I drove the bike against the trunk. I hoped you would
find me, rescue and love me again. You couldn't be serious when you told me
you wanted to leave me, hm?"

Gregor fought the soothing tone of his voice. It was smooth like honey
dripping from a bun. At the same time he felt his hands. First stroking his
waist, then opening the zipper of his trousers and in no time Gregor's
erection was straining against his tight boxer shorts.  It was certainly
good that he had a few pounds of weight he oddly enough thought. And that
was all that he could think. He breathed Christian's familiar and long
missed scent. He felt warm and skilful fingers pulling down the fabric, and
a palm that glided over his penis, embracing his testicles. He felt his
lips at his neck, short under the ear where he still remembered one of
Gregor's most erogenous zone.  "But... but what about ... Ph". He couldn't
talk on. Christian's tongue had slipped into his mouth, suffocating each
word he wanted to say. Gregor didn't notice that his hands as well were
roaming the inside of Christian's jeans, pulling at the heavy dick he
remembered so well. His knees threatened to give way, but Christian held
him. His aura was much too overwhelming. It still was. It always would be.


It was great, he thought, coming to his senses again. Great as ever. As if
four years had not passed without him. Gregor lay on the carpet in his
room. Naked, exposed, a cushion stuffed under his arse. Christian still in
him. About to pull out. He clenched his muscles to keep him. If he would
open his eyes it would only be a dream. A nightmare. How many days had
passed between the last day of their relationship and today? Gregor once
had count them, but gave up one day. And now he was back. How many days he
had spent in glooming hate? In pain? In self-humiliation? Because he wanted
Christian and hated his desire? And above all: How did Christian know all
of this? How could he know that Gregor hated his unhealthy desire for a man
who had nothing better done than to hurt him?

It didn't help. He had to open his eyes. With a little painful plop
Christian was out; out of this closeness; out of his being.  He was alone
again. Brief thoughts about condoms he hadn't used passed his mind. But he
was too weak to bother with that.  Once more he relied on Christian.

    "What have you told Philipp?" It was the first time for half an hour
that Christian spoke. "I'm afraid you told him everything, yes? Well, it
isn't that bad." He smiled and came to his knees between Gregor's legs. His
kneecaps were red, grazed and bled a little. "Just make sure you act as if
all of it was your pure invention. Perhaps you could turn it as if you
wanted to appear interesting in Philipp's eyes. What do you think? I mean,
if you do it, I'll come back and we can have more sex." He bent over Gregor
and kissed him again. His tongue travelled down, licked the white traces of
Gregor's lust, his tongue swirled around his still half-hard penis. It
became hard again. Christian laughed silently. "You see. He says yes. You
can't resist me, can you?" Another lick and Gregor's torture started again.

It was in the middle of the foreplay when Gregor's senses kicked in
again. 'What am I doing here? I can't believe I am on all fours on the
ground like a dog.  And what is with Christian's bleeding knees? Oh God!
How would he explain to Maxim?' Gregor withdrew himself from Christian's
licking tongue, that opened his arsehole, turned and crept
away. Christian's bewildered face spoke mouthfuls.

    "What are you doing with me?" Gregor asked. "Stop it instantly, do you
hear me?" But Christian snorted. "That's not meant seriously now, is
it. You screamed for more!" He tried to pull Gregor's legs to him. Gregor
resisted.

    "Ok", Christian seemed to give up, although his penis, still hard and
dangled heavy between his legs. He rose to his feet, tall, an impressive
sight seen from below. In Gregor this cooked up old feelings: the old fear
and clouded with the old lust. He didn't know what Christian was going to
do next, but Christian just stretched out a hand to help him up.

    "You know Maxim?" Christian started. He had pulled him close again. His
palms were gliding over Gregor's stiff cock. "Have you met?" His voice,
soft as a cat's purring.

Gregor shook his head. "That's good. I don't want you to meet. I love
Maxim, you know. As much as I loved you, and I want to keep him." Still the
calm gliding over his genitals. His fingers played with the hairs. "But if
you tell him about our tiffs he will lose his trust in me, you see? I don't
want to lose him like I've lost you." His palm closed around Gregor's balls
and squeezed. A tad too hard. Gregor winced. "Do you hear me?"

    "Yes." He must have been daft not to sense the threat laying
underneath. "But how do you agree your love to Maxim with ... this?" Gregor
managed to say, knowing he wouldn't get an answer. Perhaps it wasn't about
love. Perhaps it was all about domination.

Another squeeze and another stroke up the length of his aching penis. Then
release. A tongue invading his mouth. Oddly enough he enjoyed every bloody
minute of it. Gregor started again to hate himself.

    "I'll come back, honey." Christian's voice was sweet and so was his
smile. He dressed. After a long glance over Gregor's body he said "You're
worth it more than ever."



It couldn't be true! It absolutely couldn't be true. What had come over him
to allow this? Was it the relief that Christian didn't want to bash or rape
him that his body was so weak to succumb? Or was it his weak brain? He
thought he was stronger actually. He wasn't. He was a sissy. He was a
coward. He couldn't resist.

Gregor was still naked, pacing incessantly between sofa, table, and TV and
kicking the cushion on the carpet. His ass hurt. His penis hurt, his
balls. Fuck, his heart hurt.

Finally he sat upon the couch. Now, Gregor Stein, don't you dare to give
in. You neither will tell Phil you're a stupid braggart, nor will you deny
what happened today. Phil will understand you. He knows Chris as well. Too
good. He knows how Chris can manipulate people.  He can do it as easy as
other people play the piano. But one thing he knew now definitely:
Christian didn't love Maxim. He wanted to keep him because if he doesn't he
would lose face. For a cocky man like Chris this would be more worse than
for a Japanese. It was about domination.

And slowly the wish grew to meet Maxim.

*

Christian was satisfied with himself. If he had one thing learned from his
mother it was that you can handle things differently. It depend on
circumstances and the people you like to manipulate. Some of them needed a
strong grip - like his father. His mother Monika wasn't the classic
Xanthippe who stood with the rolling pin behind the door awaiting her
husband coming from the pub. No. She manipulated with tears and with
terror. But if she had drunk she would be out of control, and if she was on
morphine-withdrawal. The letters written on the ampoules had engraved
itself deep in his mind.

M o r p h i n e

She was addicted. She was nothing more than a little junkie, living in
grand style. Well, it wasn't his problem. He never could understand how one
could console with alcohol and drugs. It definitely didn't help. Christian
became just aggressive when alcohol cursed in his veins. And afterwards he
didn't know exactly what he had done.

Anyway, he sighed, sitting in his car, inhaling the smoke of a
cigarette. What was he to do next? Philipp? He doubt that to have sex with
him would work as well as it had worked with Gregor. He grinned. In fact,
it went better that he had imagined. Wow. Although - to be honest - this
hadn't been his plan at all. To persuade Gregor with sex was ingenious.  He
congratulated himself. Gregor had been a little sex-addicted being, surely,
otherwise he wouldn't have fucked the whole town. He just wondered what was
going on between him and Phil. So, what to do with him? First he must find
out if Phil had talked to Maxim about Gregor, then he would decided,
depending on what the answer would be.

He looked at his watch. It wasn't that late, Maxim was still at the bar he
assumed. He pulled out his mobile phone.

    "Darling?" he said, "still at the bar? Oh, I hear the noise. So, shall
I come?"

Satisfied with the answer he started the car. About time for a real
reconciliation. His penis hadn't came to a rest completely. It was still
squeezed in his jeans.

*

Dario couldn't keep up with all the events. With the coming friends and
boyfriends, with fathers and boyfriends of fathers. Hell, when has there
been a time at "Made in Heaven" so exciting? Delighted he stood behind the
bar and followed attentively each development. Tim had gone and Maxim had
came up to him, pleading him not to tell his soon arriving lover that Tim
had been here.  Who should understand this. Well, of course it was clear:
Chris shouldn't know Tim was here because Maxim considered Tim as Chris'
potential successor. Chris would be jealous. We didn't want that, do we?

Amused he started to wipe the glasses. If somebody would ask for his
opinion he would say that the ruminative, somehow touching melancholic Tim
would suit Maxim much better than the shining, polished, dominating
Christian. But there was nobody who asked him.

And there Chris arrived, waving a hello to him, going straight to the piano
Maxim coaxed soft sounds from. Even the potbellied Roland had found
somebody to dance with him.

    "Hi darling", Christian leaned over the piano and kissed Maxim. Maxim
broke up his play, but continued a second later. "Let me finish this, yes?"

Christian came to the bar. "Hi Dario. How's it going? Not that busy
tonight, eh?"

    "Are you with the car? It's Coke then?"

Christian nodded. Dario vanished under the bar and Roland showed up next to
Christian. He sweated and he had sprayed himself with all kinds of toilet
water. Different kinds, Christian noticed. "I have news for you", he
started a bit short breathed.

Christian looked indifferently at him. "What shall this be?"

    "About your sweetheart. He wasn't..." A flush of ice-cold coke poured
over Roland's sweaty shirt. "Oh shit!" Dario exclaimed. "How embarrassing",
quickly he started to wipe Roland's belly with his towel, "that's the first
time in ... God knows how long ... I'm so sorry." He rushed around the bar
and pulled Roland with him to the toilet. Christian heard his chattering
"...take this off and I'll try my best..." He grinned. Then he remembered
that Roland had something to tell him. Hm.

Maxim had seen the accident and grinned as well. He finished playing and
stood up. The crowd applauded and Christian burst with pride. "Are we
going?" he said.

Dario and Roland returned from the washroom, Dario still lamenting. But
Maxim saw and had to hold a laugh. He winked at him
conspiratorially. "Ready to go so soon, Maxim? Well, see you soon I hope."

*

Christian was as calm as he hadn't been in a long time. Now that he had a
plan, everything was easy. He even was friendly to the cat, awaiting them
as usual by the door, although he felt the familiar jealous stab when Maxim
took him up to cuddle with him.

    "I'm glad you wear the ring", he whispered into his ear. And all came
back to Maxim: the ring, meant actually for Philipp, Tim's sexual offer,
his disappointed eyes. "It wasn't meant for me", he said low. "It's true,
you wanted to marry Phil."

    "Who said? Phil?" Crap, he had forgotten, that Philipp would recognize
it.  Ok. Let's play it sweet.

    "Oh, honey", he said, "I didn't mean to hurt you. Surely you had
deserved another ring. We go tomorrow and buy two brand new ones."

Coco jumped from Maxim's arms. Maxim was almost embarrassed about
Christian's contrition.  He was guided to the couch were Christian sat
close to him. "I had kept the rings because I didn't want to throw them
away. It would had been a pity."

    "So you just waited for another man you could put them on. And the
other one was me."

    "Listen, I don't know what Phil told you about me and him, but be sure
all of it is pure invention. He always had had a blooming fantasy. I guess
he just doesn't want to see me happy."

   "He told me nothing", Maxim cut him short. "Although I must admit I've
asked about your family. I worry if you're so far away. You don't let me
participate." Deep inside he thought about Philipp's reasons if it was true
what Christian said right now. Wasn't it Philipp who left Christian? Why
should he care now for Christian's happiness. Or explicitly, why should he
wish Christian wasn't happy. This didn't make sense.

Christian though was relieved. Phil hadn't talked. So far. He would make
sure he never would.  "Well, it's easy enough. My father had other things
in mind than to care for a happy family.  All the money went to his head
after a while. Seen from the point of an adult he was strange. He was a
severe father who didn't play with us. Mother said he wasn't interested in
children, so all the work was with her. Not that we were much work. I've
never understood why she had fallen in love with him." He fell silent.

Maxim watched him with big eyes. "And then he betrayed your mother?"

    "Yes." Carefully Christian left out that Monika was a hysteric and
nervous woman who had to calm herself with drugs and alcohol.

    "And what did she do then? Did she know?"

    "I don't know if she knew. She was suspicious though."

    "And when she couldn't go on she committed suicide?" To Maxim it still
didn't make sense. "How could she leave you both. You were so small."

Yeah, that was the tricky point. Christian leaned back his head and
stretched out his legs. Like in slow motion he saw a body flying through
the air, occasionally touching ground. The high pitched cry yelling in his
ears. He saw a thin trickle of blood. Funny, somehow blood had always
accompanied his life. He didn't know where his mother's longing to pain
herself had come from.  Now Christian was copying her, and in the end she
had succeeded although not the way she wanted.

He felt Maxim's hand upon his breast. "Did you miss her? What happened
after her death?"

    "Well, father got us a nanny and he continued as if nothing had
happened." But before that there was a long talk, Christian and Martin had
never forgotten. The eight year old twins had a burden to carry for their
life time and so far it was only Martin who had liberated himself from
that. The intimidation. The threat.

He shook his head. "I'm tired." And he still was horny. Gregor hadn't
satisfied his longing for sex. He smiled. It had been hard to resist Maxim
when they had been in Paris. All those evenings he said good night in front
of his door and to see Maxim's disappointed face... But it had done
something good. Maxim became a slave to him. The way he planned it. Even
the outcry at the peak of his orgasm. The outcry with Philipp's name on his
lips. The manipulation had worked.

Maxim's hand had slipped under Christian's shirt and he cuddled close to
him. "Thanks for telling me", he said. "It's a trauma, yes?"

Christian nodded and laughed inwardly. The trauma was long time ago. He
doesn't miss his mother. She was selfish. She had destroyed the lives of
all of them. But still he loved her. And he hated himself for being the
cause of all this.

Lying in bed he was suddenly really tired. Too tired to do anything. "How's
your work proceeding?" he heard Maxim next to him.

His work, yes. Sonja had complained he would always vanish and leave the
work to her. He had to do something about that. But Philipp had
priority. Maxim put his head against his neck. His hands were wandering
over his body and then Christian was wide-awake. The adrenalin started to
course in his veins. A delirious state, like being on speed or on poppers
Philipp had occasionally brought from the sex shop. Why he had never tried
it again? Sex was the strongest drive, like the urge to survive. And
Christian had played the pious virgin long enough at the start of their
relationship. Now that he had Maxim on the hook he could give up the game
of the balance of closeness and absence. All he wanted was closeness
now. In this sense Maxim was as innocent and trusting like his lovers
before.

He guided Maxim's hand between his legs. It was clasped around his hard
dick and squeezed it lightly. Maxim's head followed, exposing his
body. Strange, the older he grew the more the urge grew. An insatiable
urge. He bucked his body and wished this would never end. He felt like the
fifteen years old Christian who had the longing to put his penis in every
opening he could find, but it never satisfied his longing. He left bloody
traces of his fingernails on Maxim's back, pushed him around, lifted and
spread his legs.

Being somewhat out of control, he developed strength he had tried out on
several men before Maxim. His body pressed Maxim deeply into the mattresses
until he was locked there under his body, not able to move. His hands
pressed down Maxim's thighs, so he could bend down to give his hole a
wash. Maxim moaned, but it didn't sound lustful. "Geez, Chris, could you
let me go?" he said instead of, "my legs hurt." There wasn't the familiar
winking of the hole whenever Christian had licked it. He noticed, but yet
he couldn't stop. A man - lying on his back, the entrance to that what
promised him heaven on earth exposed, vulnerable, ready to be invaded - had
always sent him beyond reason. Not that he couldn't control this urge. He
could easily. But tonight, Christian didn't want to control his urges.  He
then rose to his knees, loosened the grip on Maxim's thighs a little, and
buried instead his pole deep between Maxim's arse cheeks. Maxim arched his
back, trying to pull back his body's, but he couldn't. Christian's cock was
much too heavy to be easily plunged into a tight canal all at once without
preparation. Maxim muffled a cry while biting his lips.  Christian didn't
seem to bother. Both knew the pain would eventually subside.

Maxim's surprise and then the agony of pain stopped his reaction. He felt
like he was being steamrolled and being ripped open like a tin with coke,
and the hated it. This is certainly what it was and certainly what it felt
like. Rough, fast and brutish. Christian grinned a carnivore's grin; his
eyes weren't his own. They were dull and half-closed and focused inwardly
at something that was beyond Maxim's reach, because he just felt pain.

    "Shsh, baby", he heard Christian saying. "You know I love you." He
kissed his mouth. Even his voice didn't seem his own, Maxim thought. It was
hoarsely, drunken with an unhealthy drive. And his eyes seem to have a
sparkle of deadly lust in them. His arsehole was tight and not relaxed;
like his whole body was tensed; his mind was tight and tensed. For the
first time in their mutual months together Maxim didn't want to be
fucked. He felt he was just being used as something to satisfy Christian's
lust.  He stared into his eyes, wanted to say something. Chris couldn't
love him when he treated him like this. Now Christian muttered words he
thought Maxim wanted to hear and he would relax. "I remember you cried
almost when I didn't want to sleep with you. Now you have all of me."  His
rough movements slowed down. But still there wasn't enough lubricate to
make the ride smooth and painless.

When Maxim struggled, Christian took speed again. "I love you", he
whispered. Maxim didn't want to hear. He turned his head to the side and
registered everything that was to be seen there: the icon on the wall, next
to it his own portrait made in Paris. His cat, staring with big eyes at
him. Maxim closed his eyes. He was overpowered.

His legs hurt so much that he lay them over Christian's shoulders and tried
to find the real Christian. He searched his face. It had reddened. The
veins on his neck thumped with strain.  Maxim lifted his hand and wiped
over Chris' face. Instantly his eyes were focused on his own, and he was
back. And then he found the same rhythm. For now.

But Christian couldn't come to an end. He was still plunging his cock into
Maxim's bowels, desperately to find relief, desperately to find fulfilment,
the mutual cloud nine, but he couldn't. Maxim struggled. "Hurry up, I can't
do this anymore", he hissed, lifted his head and gave Christian a hateful
stare. He thumped Christian's arms, tried to push back his upper body, but
the only result was that Christian now gripped his shoulders and pressed
them back into the sheets. Maxim tried to free himself. His arse was
hurting too much and his erection had gone. Christian saw it because their
bodies wasn't touching. It was just his cock that connected both and Maxim
seemed so far away. But right now that didn't bother him.

After what seemed an endless time he could finally relief himself. He
wondered why Maxim couldn't find it pleasurable. Gregor certainly had,
because he had always wanted him to slow down enough to stay for hours in
his beloved one.  Now he was able to and Maxim complained. Who should
understand this? He fell asleep within Maxim who was so tired and hurt he
couldn't think. The last thing he remembered was he was lowering his legs
and trying to shove off Christian's body. He couldn't really. He wanted to
shout at him, wanted to fight with him, but he couldn't. Christian pressed
his palm over his mouth and nose and then everything was going black.

When he woke up again Christian had continued the ride. His heavy cock
seemed to graze Maxim's intestines. There was no condom to protect
him. Maxim fought but he was stronger. He had to endure Christian's power.

In the morning the bed was empty beside Christian and his penis showed
traces of blood.

Maxim had gone.