Maddog & The Pope (Learning to fly on Broken Wings) - 12. Chapter 12 Maddog..., Attack!!

Living in a downtown alley sure had its advantages. Shopping could be done just a short walk away and a visit to one of the unofficial gay bars was only a few steps more. But it had its drawbacks as well.

One of them was the limited view they had from their living room. They really didn’t have to strain to see what the guy on the other side of the street was having for dinner. But a bigger nuisance was that the alley was the main passageway for pedestrians between the city’s entertainment and amusement center and the parking lots along the Inner City ringroad. Especially during weekends there was always hubbub during daytime and even more at night. There were brawls between drunks, hormone-stuffed boys fighting over some chick and those, who sang out loud in their alcohol induced happiness.

But all these nocturnal disturbances were not the reason that made Inno lay awake on this early Saturday morning far after midnight, although they certainly didn’t help to find peace of mind. The reason was one of the recurring bouts of guilt and shame. The never-ending shame over his sin in the church, the ever lasting guilt towards God and his mamma.

He tried to see things reasonably. He would probably be persecuted by it for the rest of his life during certain periods. But reason lost to fear! And the fear unleashed the demons that started to stampede in his mind.

Becoming more and more restless he turned his head to the right, looking at Niki, whose regular breathing betrayed he was in a deep sleep. Inno craved for some closeness. He rolled over and carefully pushed his body against Niki’s, as if he wanted to draw strength from feeling his lover’s body warmth. But he was not careful enough. An annoyed hum came from the sleeping body and Niki started to stir.

“Sorry, angel,” Inno whispered, ”I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Niki asked drowsily.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Niki wanted to know.

“I’m so scared!” Inno replied with a vibrating voice.

The answer cleared Niki’s mind from sleep cobwebs in an instant. Alarmed he turned on his back, switched on the bedside lamp and looked at Inno’s face. He was jolted by what he saw. Gone were the always vivid eyes, now they were filled with agony.

“Inno, sweetheart,” he cried out, “what is going on? What’s making you so scared?”

“I’m doomed. I’m going to Hell!”, Inno said in a monotonous voice, “He said so!”

Being abruptly torn from dreamland Niki was unable to understand what Inno was talking about. And his eyes told so!

“What, what are you talking about?” he asked, “Tell me…!”

“I’m a… sinner. I’m a… a… mortal sinner!” the answer came in bits and pieces.

“Honey,” Niki tried to comfort him, “All sinners are mortal. Once upon a time we all have to leave this world.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Inno snapped impatiently.

Niki ignored the outburst and gently said:

“Then try to explain it to me.”

Inno looked at him, almost begging, and whispered:

“May I lay in your arms when I tell you about it? It helps me if you hold me.”

Niki didn’t need words as an answer, only the appropriate gestures: he took Inno in his arms, pulled the boy’s head on his chest and listened.

Inno started his story. He told how the priest had sucked and masturbated him to an orgasm, only to tell him he had seduced an innocent priest and he was cursed. He told how he had tried to pay for his sins by flogging, how he had finally decided to go to confession, but that the confessor had refused him absolution, only to curse him a second time. How he wanted to be a priest himself, but had abandoned that plan with pain in his heart because he was no longer pure and free from sin. In the end he turned to the gym as a more acceptable means of punishment. It took a long time before the whole story was out. Sentences were interspersed with tears, sobs and pauses filled with pain. Niki said nothing; he just listened, stroking the ginger-blond curls while doing so. He started to listen with attentiveness and compassion, but gradually his mood changed to indignation, then to anger, finally ending in rage about what had been done to Inno!

“Ah, I remember!” he said. “That remark you made… that you were doing it for the Lord!”

Inno confirmed this with a single nod.

“What happened to that priest?” Niki asked, trying hard to control his outrage.

“He got promoted. He got his own parish!” Inno answered.

“Yeah, solve the problem by promoting the culprit,” Niki sighed cynically, “and give him the possibility to continue his crimes, only with other victims. Did you tell this to your mom?”

Inno dropped his eyes and shook his head, replying:

“I didn’t dare to. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me. She was Sicilian, so in her eyes priests are demi-saints, who don’t do such things.”

“So…,” Niki concluded, “you tried to figure this out all on your own?”

Inno nodded and said:

“You’re the first one I told!”

His voice turned timid.

“Angel, do you still love me, now you know this?”

“That is a dumb question, honey,” Niki replied smiling, “I’m not a Catholic and when I hear this, I thank God for it I ain’t. Yes, I still love you, do not doubt that. I will always love you. But your reasoning was wrong.”

Inno stared at him, his eyes questioning.

“You did nothing wrong. That creep crow who couldn’t keep his hands to himself,” Niki explained, “didn’t curse you out of reasons of his faith. It had nothing to do with faith. He knew he could intimidate you in that way, so you would shut up about what he did to you, because you would blame yourself and feel mighty ashamed of it. And… he was right!”

“And the priest who refused absolution?” Inno asked.

Niki sighed and shrugged.

“I don’t know your faith well enough to know about the specifics of Confession. But what I learned during Religious Education classes at school is that it is supposed to be one of the highest gifts of Catholicism and no priest refuses to forgive your sins. I suspect he had other reasons that had nothing to do with religion. But don’t ask me what those reasons were. Besides…”

There was a tiny pause in talking. Inno looked up expectantly. Niki continued:

“Didn’t you read the papers or hear the news on the radio? You’re not the only one. In Germany alone thousands of kids, mostly boys by the way, were sexually abused by priests. And thousands more in France, in the Netherlands, Ireland and America. Which is a lot of child abuse. The whole church seems to promote and enjoy it like an institutional pastime!”

“But, why does the Vatican accept that?” Inno asked, somewhat suspicious.

“Because the cardinals have their own fingers too deep in the warm, sticky cream!” Niki replied.

“It can’t be,” Inno cried out in disbelief. “They condemn homosexuality as a sin!”

“Yes, I know!” Niki concurred. “But has it ever occurred to you that they cry out “shame on the gays” most vehemently to cover up their own dirty laundry?”

“You’re just saying all that to make me feel better,” Inno mumbled with a voice that seemed to come out of a grave.

“Am I?” Niki objected. “Gimme a minute!”

He rose from the bed and walked out of the bedroom, being back within a minute holding his smartphone. Once he lay down again, he switched the small screen to google and entered the search item: ‘Child abuse in the catholic church.’

A score of entries came up. With a satisfied smile he gave the phone to Inno.

“Just read all of this! It might take you some time.”

Inno started reading and continued for a long time in silence. He wouldn’t have managed to read all the entries in this single night. He didn’t need to: his eyes lightened and very cautiously his smile came back. He looked at Niki and almost incredulous, he asked:

“But does this mean I’m innocent? That I’m not a sinner?”

Niki frowned for a second, thinking. A smile came over his face when he answered:

“I don’t know what the Church says, but the Church is a corrupt and immoral institution. To my way of thinking you’re most certainly not a sinner, but another victim!”

“Thank you,” Inno whispered, and kissed him. Then he giggled:

“It looks as if you’re not always impulsive. This was a very good and coherent answer you gave me. It helped me out!”

“Maybe I’m not, always impulsive,”, Niki laughed, “Maybe I’m only able to do cohesive reasoning when you tear me out of my sleep!”

“Sorry about that,” Inno said slightly abashed.

“Doesn’t matter, honey. Now try to get some sleep. Kiss?”

Inno nodded vigorously.

They kissed goodnight and Niki switched the bedside light off again. After a while he noticed that Inno was asleep. The tables were turned: now he lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Like most people, he presumed, he had felt a little angry when he heard the news about child abuse by priests on the radio and it didn’t make him feel any better when he heard how the Church chose to handle these crimes by trying to sweep them under the carpet. Now he had a feeling of indignation, the feeling of ‘They can’t do this!’ His rage built up at diabolical speed. Because it had become a very personal matter: some slime had done this to his Inno, to the person he loved the most in this whole world, his sweet lover with whom he shared his life, his dreams and his bed, the boy who was everything to him, maybe even his personal God! They had hurt Inno and indirectly they had hurt him! They had chosen to change the rules of their own game: it was no longer Inno’s lonely struggle; it had become his fight as well! Because, this screamed for revenge!

Just before sleep was able to overcome his outrage and micro-seconds before his eyes fell shut his last thought was:

“I promise you, Inno: they are going to pay for it. I’ll nail them to the pillory!”

 

Niki felt a certain relief that he was home alone this Sunday afternoon. Inno had the weekend late shift and it gave him the chance to think things over and vent his anger. Since the night Inno had told him his heartrendingly sad story, his feelings had gone up and down from a little over moderate anger to blustery outrage. He tried to control it because showing anger might lead Inno to think he was the cause of it. Niki had no reason in the world to be angry with Inno, on the contrary, he could only feel compassion for his lover. And genuine admiration for this tough, little guy who managed to struggle through this trauma all on his own. But being alone now gave Niki the chance to let out his fury in the open and plan his retaliation.

There were moments when he would have loved to burn all the churches or attack priests at random. But on the other hand that wouldn’t be him, it was by far too violent! No, he knew he had to use a more subtle weapon, he had to use his art!

It shouldn’t be one of those works by ‘Niki,’ of which a fair number adorned several stores and enterprises in the city since Oskar had spread word of his artistic talent. It meant he was much in demand and had to be careful in which commissions he accepted, since he had his obligations to his new employer as well. He loved his new job, in which he was stimulated and motivated and not humiliated on a daily basis. He did not want to jeopardize it by taking on too many paint jobs.

This one had to be a real ‘Maddog.’ Over time he had become aware he had set himself certain benchmarks which now imposed quality demands. He had to be clear and poignant in his message and at the same time stylish with beautiful forms and attractive colors. On top of that, he had to find a suitable target. Not any wall or fence along a railroad or at some parking lot, but a target, where the painting would have impact at the right spot ànd at the right time. It demanded a vision, a vision he lacked this afternoon and one he was desperately searching for.

“No need to rush,” he thought with a grim smile, “There’s no deadline on it!”

Deadline or not, the idea stuck in his thoughts and he kept pondering over it the whole Sunday afternoon. By the time darkness fell he hadn’t found the thing he wanted. He had ideas, but judged them to be too simple and they were discarded as fast as they had come up.

When it was nearly completely dark, he rose and switched on some lights. Absent-mindedly he stared across at the neighbor’s windows on the other side of the alley. He noticed a silhouette moving around in the room opposite, before refocusing on the job at hand, how to make something that would express his anger and Inno’s pain?

He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, a broad grin came on his face, he started laughing. It seemed as if a really funny idea was being born.

The image that popped up in his imagination was Jesus, his arms spread wide, in his right hand a roll of cleaning paper. Standing, gazing in front, he spoke:

“Let all children come to me. But they have to take paper with them to clean up the mess after I’m done.”

At that time, he might consider it funny, he could think it was cynical. But he rejected the idea. It was too offensive, it would only hurt people. And it wouldn’t point the finger at the sore spot. It wasn’t Jesus who was the problem, it was the Church, the corrupted system, the hypocrite institution. He had to start all over again. It was a tough nut to crack that started to make him feel a bit hopeless.

Gradually he slipped into a mental discussion with himself:

“So the Church is the problem. Now, what is the symbol of the Church?”

After brief consideration he perhaps had something to focus on:

“The cross. And as far as I am concerned one can call it the cross of Evil.”

“Ah, yes…Evil!” he affirmed.

He took a piece of paper and started to jot down some keywords:

“Church/Evil…”

“But how can you depict evil?” he wondered. “How can I combine the Church and Evil in one image? And what about the actual malefactors, the priests?”

Giving up was no option. This painting had to be made, even if it would be his last one. He had to revenge Inno’s suffering. Stubbornly he kept looking for solutions. In the beginning it was a frustrating process, but then, in an impulse, the breakthrough came:

“Scorching heath, flames licking at the sinners’ skins. Hell! Hell is Evil. And the priests who are guilty of this crime are sinners.”

The little list on the paper grew:

“Church/Evil/Hell/Fire.”

The first image also started to grow: the cross enshrouded in flames, combining the two symbols of Church and Evil into one object.

But there were still two things missing, the victim and the culprit.

“The victim is easy enough: a young, naked and frightened boy, on his knees, waiting for the worst to happen,” his inner voice suggested.

“No sweat,” he muttered under his breath. “Can do. Not that complicated, technically speaking.”

With a sigh he mused somewhat louder:

“What about the culprit? He’s a part of Evil, but I can’t use the same symbology twice. I have to find something else!”

Another word was added to the list:

“Church/Evil/Hell/Fire/Child/??”

Behind the last slash he put two question marks in pencil.

He rose and started to pace around the room, pondering over the last missing piece of the puzzle, feeling increasingly disheartened for not finding it. He kept muttering, overthinking and rejecting ideas. In ultimate exasperation over his inability he finally cried out:

“Goddamn, is it so difficult to depict a monster?”

Once he said it, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes lit up and a smile came over his face.

“Of course, a monster! I depict him for what he is, a despicable, frightening and ravenous monster!”

He shook his head and whispered:

“Some things are so easy to find if you don’t search too deep!”

The last word was added to the list:

“Church/Evil/Hell/Fire/Child/Monster.”

He sat down at the table, switched on his laptop and started to google for ideas about how a monster might look. He saw scores of them, in all dimensions, from the pre-historic to the allegorical.

Within an hour the idea had been cemented. Niki had the vision he had been looking for. He closed his eyes and burned the image into his memory, so he could see it any time he needed to. Then he took his sketch pad and started making the first preliminary studies.

Niki worked on his design diligently, but he limited the time that he was working on it to those hours, that Inno was at work. Because this project was not only meant as a rude shock for the prime target, but also as a surprise for his boyfriend, the means of his own revenge, although it was through the hands of an anonymous painter.

He encountered a problem, when he was working on the projected monster’s eyes: they were large, ruthless and bloodshot, but exactly that last thing gave him a headache. It would be impossible to paint it in the pitch darkness he had to work in. It delayed his progress, while he fretted on a solution. During a visit to the local art supply shop the shop owner gave him the redeeming answer, weatherproof sticker paper! Now he was preparing the eyes at home, applying the paint to the paper with delicate care and cutting them out after that. All he had to do during the project’s actual execution was to take the stickers and stick them in the right spot.

He experimented with colors, forms and backgrounds, and after finding the right combinations he started the final design. Now it was time to find the perfect target.

That took more time than anticipated. He had his requirements: it should be a central place with lots of exposure and it should be a location, where the painting would have impact at exactly the right spot and especially the right time. When he strolled over the city’s central square, he found what he was looking for. It was a huge building and its purpose fitted his demands perfectly. He estimated the available dimensions for his project and studied the possible shadows that would hide him while working. This was a little hard when the sun shone abundantly, so he returned in early evening, after the sun had set. Only to find the shadows to be letter-perfect: he would be able to work fully inside them, making him almost invisible!

The next phase was standard: it was the cutting of the templates. But he also started rehearsing the whole operation. It had nothing to do with playacting, only with street painting. However, it was a high-risk operation in the most central place downtown. To achieve the impact he wanted, he would have to work Saturday night, rather than his usual, quieter Sunday. This job was planned for Saturday night or Sunday very early morning, exposing him to the busiest night around the clubs and bars, but this couldn’t be changed: the artwork needed to be unveiled on Sunday morning. To minimize the chance of being busted he planned to work almost exclusively in darkness, using his penlight only when absolutely necessary or in case of emergencies. On top of that: the job required a lot of templates and colors. So, he worked out a storage sequence with touch recognition symbols for templates and paint and started to rehearse picking them in the correct order without looking. He had to rely on touch.

This process took weeks, but in the end he was confident he could take every desired can out of the satchel with his eyes shut. As an extra precaution he planned to work fifteen minutes at a time and then take a break. This was to minimize the slightest sense of movement in the shadows to any coincidentally passing person.

On Friday evening he made a last reconnaissance of his chosen target, checking the surroundings. Finding everything exactly as he expected, he decided very early Sunday morning was Paint-Day! It was time to settle the score!

 

Saturday evening, shortly before midnight: the time had come! Inno had night shift, so there was nothing to explain or account for. He had planned it that way, because it suited him just fine. He expected it to be a very long job and he didn’t want his boyfriend to worry needlessly.

Following his detailed planning step by step, he dressed completely in black, but left the hoodie of his sweatshirt down. It would impede his hearing, right now when he needed every available sense to detect any threat to his expedition. Instead, he wore his black baseball cap to cover his hair and hide his eyes.

He set the alarm of his smartphone to fifteen minute intervals, clicked the earphone in and put the little bud in his right ear. His left was free to warn him of any sounds that might indicate danger. He took his two satchels with the paints and templates. He had pre-packed them in exactly the correct sequences and he saw no need for a last check: he had checked them over and over again earlier that evening.

He made a brief mental check if he really had everything he might need, felt in his inner pocket if his penlight was there, switched off the radio and the lights and opened the apartment door.

“All set!” he muttered to himself. “Let’s get this over with!”

Now, on edge as could be expected, he moved cautiously like a ghost from one pitch-black shadow to the other, closely following the contours of walls and porches, in flowing movements and painstakingly avoiding abrupt gestures, staying in the dark, hoping he was invisible.

He was very aware this was an extremely risky job. This time the stakes of the game were formidably high. He would work in the center of down town, where people were passing by until deep in the night: drunks, stoned kids, couples in love, guys who were bored and those who were frustrated, not finding what they had been looking for.

But in a way he really was invisible: drunks had their eyes on their feet so they could wobble to their bed in safety without stumbling, stoned kids did the same and were in spheres that hindered their eyesight, lovers only had eyes for each other, the frustrated would have their eyes on the ground, overthinking this night’s bad luck and the bored? They were just bored. None of them would pay any attention to a black shadow that approached the cathedral at an unimaginable slow speed. Niki saw the risk as calculated and acceptable and the reality proved him to be right.

Apart from these practical aspects the operation had another risk: he was threatening the zenith and bulwark of old Catholicism in a very Catholic city. He was attacking the lion’s den. If he was caught, he would pay a high price. But, being his personal revenge, it was worth the risk!

Under cover of the looming shadow of the mighty cathedral tower he descended the stairs that connected the square with the church’s entrance. All was done with infinite patience and concentration, only a vague dark figure moving at snail’s pace without any brisk movements. It seemed to take hours, but finally he was swallowed by the shadows of the vault of the narthex, the cathedral’s vestibule by the main entrance.

He grinned at the two rows of stone statues on both sides of the door, carved effigies of various saints. They threw greatly distorted shadows and there was no better cover than that. The deformed shapes were a camouflage for his already small silhouette, disguising his presence even further in the black space which surrounded him. Nobody would notice him; he was invisible to all intents and purposes!

He let his penlight shine for two seconds to get his bearings and started working. First, he put on his rubber gloves. It was a precaution: he might well lose a template after removing it. And there was no point to leave fingerprints for the cops.

It went smoothly. He was satisfied with the system he had worked out. Each template marked with a square on which punctured dots made a kind of Braille. One dot in the center meant “Background Number 1”, two dots, one above the other meant “Background Number 2”, etcetera. Templates for the monster had their dots from left to right over the square’s centerline, with the left one slightly larger than the rest, templates for the cross went from left top to right bottom with the dot in left top being larger and those for the boy right to left. His paint cans were marked in the same way, but since they were in a different satchel, there was no chance of a mix-up. He had needed weeks to memorize and rehearse the system. But now it worked.

Concentrating intently, he put the templates for the background on the large wooden door and took his first paint can, black, marked with one dot. Swiftly he sprayed the paint on the wood, tore the templates off, laid them in a stack at his right foot and took the first template for the monster. Again, he couldn’t avoid using light: he had to find the seem of the background to match this first template exactly at its edge. But once this was done the other templates were in their place soon enough. He knew their forms and simply by feeling he could place them all perfectly in relation to the first one. Suddenly, the alarm sounded in his ear and he stopped working for a few minutes.

He turned around and observed the square. A few people were on the other side, but nobody appeared to notice him. He could do with a smoke!

He had smoked when he had lived in Hamburg, but had quit. And now, after all this time and for reasons unknown, he was dying for a smoke. But it wasn’t to be: first of all, he hadn’t any. But more importantly: the bright glow of a cigarette tip in the darkness was a sure recipe for being detected!

Satisfied that all was safe he turned his attention to his work again and took another paint can:

“Silver, two dots…” he had memorized, “Then to green… three dots… then left dark orange… four dots… then more left light orange… five dots. Then black again… one dot!”

His left ear picked up a sound. A threat! He froze immediately, becoming another black shadow in an environment of black shadows. His left ear kept scanning for any sounds behind him. There was nothing. After two minutes, he continued working.

His alarm went off in his right ear again. He pushed himself in a dark corner and took a breather. He was satisfied with the progress: the monster was almost ready, only the bright part to the left needed to be done and then small black lines over its whole surface to suggest the pre-historic scaly skin.

“Oh man…”, he mused, while pausing, “I really need a cigarette!”

He resumed work. First he checked if the black background paint had dried enough to apply the white splashes. It hadn’t…

“Patience! It’ll have to wait… Later,” he thought.

He finished the last painting on the monster, but knew he had to be careful after that. No matter how he thought it through during his preparations, there was no other way than using his penlight to apply the stickers with the eyes in the right place. He turned around, his eyes scanning back and forth over the square. Certain all was safe, he took the penlight, illuminated the monster’s head for mere seconds and pushed the eyes onto the location where they were supposed to be. Then he tore the templates off, carefully putting them on the growing stack at his right foot.

“Next… the cross,” he muttered. Again, a tiny beam of light slid over the monster’s wet, gleaming paint, to find the relative position of where the cross was supposed to go. Then it was the same procedure as with the other components: carefully feeling the dotted squares on the templates in the satchel, fixing them on the wood door, sensing the color codes ”Brown… six dots, orange four and five dots… bright yellow seven dots… darker yellow… eight dots.”

For a second time his left ear warned him of something, a car’s engine.

“A car on the square at this time…? Must be cops!” he almost panicked.

He pressed himself flat against the wall in the darkest corner the building offered him, staring intently at the almost empty square. A police car slowly passed by, for how he was feeling, far too slowly! His heart pounded in his chest, his eyes grew large from fear, sweat rolled down his spine and his brow, worst of all his mind played tricks with him, giving him images of ending the night in some police cell.

““Go away, damn it,” he thought, panting with fear, his eyes screwed shut, “Please… go away!”

He forced himself to open his eyes and look. It was clear, they had left without having seen anything suspicious. He breathed a sigh of relief. After regaining his calm, he went back to work.

His smartphone alarm in his right ear told him he had been working for longer than an hour now. Normally he would consider it too risky and too long, but he had known in advance this project would demand time.

So he slogged on, needing a little over two hours to finish the whole painting, often disturbed by sounds and noises from the square, but in the end, all was where it should be. He took his penlight, shone over the whole painting for a last visual check. Pushed his trademark poster on it, knowing this time it had one tiny thing that was different.

He stepped back, looking at the somewhat darker shapes on the already dark wooden door. Anybody else would see just a blot, he knew where the colors were and he knew they would emerge in all their glory the next morning… the moment that really counted. Contrary to when he had finished other projects, his face didn’t show satisfaction. It was grim, his dark eyes filled with hate.

He stood staring for a few seconds, then muttered with a voice, hoarse from anger:

“Take that, rats; that’ll teach you. This is for all those kids! But most of all… it is for what you did to my Inno!”

Painstakingly he gathered his things together, his used templates and the paint cans, putting it all in his two satchels. After a quick last glance on the door he left.

Military men call it ‘exfiltration’ and that is exactly how he did it, the same way as he had come in: silent, smooth and careful like a jaguar on the prowl. No use getting careless at the end!

Only after leaving the square and strolling leisurely through one of the side alleys on his way home, did he relax and finally feel a deserved satisfaction for a job well done. But he was still craving for a smoke:

“Now a cigarette first!” he muttered, “I’m entitled to one!”

When he passed a cigarette machine, he bought himself a pack, but it didn’t help much: he had no match nor lighter. Providence helped him: a drunk came staggering through the alley, so Niki called out:

“Hi, mate… you have a match or lighter?”

“Huhhuh…” was the most coherent reply he got, but the man took a lighter out of his coat pocket.

“Thanks!” Niki muttered and with a blissful feeling he inhaled his first smoke in months. For a few seconds it dizzied him, but once his body was accustomed again to the smoke, he felt happy and content and continued his walk home.

When arrived, shortly after four in the morning, he would have loved to find Inno in bed. He needed the talking and caressing to get rid of the accumulated stress of the previous hours. But knowing he was a loner, when he worked as a free artist, he accepted the present loneliness with an almost indifferent shrug as a logical result of his own character. It would have to wait until the next day.

He undressed and threw his dirty clothes on the floor; they were good for the washing machine next morning. With a tired sigh he slid under the duvet. Still feeling somewhat on edge, he stared at the ceiling for a few minutes and thought:

“But maybe… just maybe… it would have been a wonderful feeling to hear that sweet voice next to me, when he whispers: ‘Hi, angel.’”

The ‘angel’ turned over. He was exhausted from all the stress during the execution of this demanding project. He closed his eyes and within seconds he had left the world of the living.

 

Sunlight penetrated through the thin curtains of their tiny bedroom, but the two lovers didn’t notice it. They slept with their arms and legs entangled in an intimate embrace, enjoying each other’s body warmth and scent. They both felt it as a delightful experience, but it made them miss the amusing pandemonium that reigned over the city’s most central square, just in front of the cathedral’s main entrance.

Priests were milling around in confusion. Even the archbishop was summoned from his palace and joined the general melee, his hands in front of his mouth, continuously muttering:

“Terrible! Terrible! Terrible! Terrible!”

Police officers were searching for clues, but the only thing they found was a piece of plastic, smeared with paint, but unfortunately devoid of any fingerprints or DNA. Church-goers were in shock or angry, some of them still cursing when they were inside the vaulted spaces of the large building.

And in between all this, reporters questioned everybody who wanted to vent his or her opinion about the painting on the cathedral’s main door. One television reporter was interviewing the archdiocese spokesman, who looked as if he was becoming very upset! Coincidental passers-by observed the goings-on or cast a glance over the cause of all this Sunday morning uproar, elderly people mostly shaking their heads in indignation, youngsters with a broad smile of amusement or looking admiringly at what they considered Art with a capital A.

The artist who painted it and was the cause of all the commotion was unaware of the tumult he had created. Niki and Inno were perfectly happy in their dreams, waking up so every now and then to exchange kisses and sweet whispers. And that is what they kept doing for the rest of this peaceful Sunday, at least until Inno had to get up for a second weekend night shift.

 

That Monday Inno rose in early afternoon after his second night shift in a row. Night shifts were the only drawback to a job he really loved. Of course, he took his share of them, but somehow they always seemed to disturb his normal rhythm, resulting in a listless day after. After two in a row this Monday he felt really apathetic!

Niki was out. He was on one of his paid commissions, this time for a nursery school, working on a cheerfully colored wall with lots of gnomes and fairies in some magical, fairytale-like woodland, creating an environment to heighten the spirits of the little toddlers. He had given himself two days for the actual painting, since he was expected at Peter Steinmann’s little photo shop at ten sharp next Wednesday. But this side job brought some extra money, so he rose early without complaining, although he would have loved to lie with his lover a little longer.

After rising, Inno felt too listless to make breakfast for himself. Breakfast was great when they were together, but not when he was on his own. Since they were doing well, they could afford some small luxuries, so he decided to walk to the baker down the street to get himself a fresh coffee and a croissant and just enjoy sitting there. He took his jacket and walked out.

At the baker’s he made his order and picked the local newspaper from the counter. He paid, took his coffee, chocolate croissant (he had discovered this treat only recently and really loved them!) and paper to a little table by the window and sat down. Taking a bite of his croissant he unfolded the paper. Right there in the center of the front page, in bold lettering, he read:

“UNKNOWN PAINTS SCANDALOUS PAINTING ON CATHEDRAL DOOR.”

The paper was kind enough to accompany the article with a large photo, unfortunately in black and white. Inno stared at it intently, trying to imagine the colors. Then he read the article:

“An unknown person has painted a scandalous painting on the main door of the cathedral during the night of Saturday to Sunday. The painting was discovered by the sexton, when he opened the church for Sunday’s High Mass. Due to the artistic quality, complexity and technical expertise with which it was made the painter must have spent a lot of time to create it. However, without being detected.

It appears to depict a kind of dragon rising from the water and holding a burning crucifix while facing a naked boy.

Worshippers, who were attending Mass, were visibly shocked by this blasphemous criminal act, as were the priests who are serving the cathedral’s parish.

A spokesman for the Archdiocese told our reporter that complaints have been filed with the police for damage to property and blasphemy. The police confirmed, they are investigating the matter, but added, indices are very limited.

A small poster indicates the painting was made by an individual who calls him- or herself ‘Maddog.’ This painter has decorated our city with several other paintings in the last year, but his or her true identity remains a mystery for the present.”

He felt a little hurt when he thought:

“You cute scoundrel… I didn’t even know you were planning this!”

But he knew he had to accept Maddog was his lover’s own world, his own private and intimate sphere, which he had no part of. With a resigning grin he muttered to himself:

“Niki, this time you really outdid yourself!”

He was wondering if it was only reported in the local paper or if other papers had the news as well. He took his smartphone and started checking the online versions of other papers. They all had it: the Frankfurter Algemeine, the Süddeutsche, the Berliner Morgenpost and the Hamburg Morgenpost. And they all had a full color picture online, but it was too small to discern the true impact of the piece of art.

He stared back at the local paper and muttered in admiration:

“My God, angel… you’ve launched yourself into the Champions League of Street Art.”

A female voice disturbed him saying angrily:

“It’s a bloody shame, isn’t it?”

He looked up, staring into the face of the baker’s wife, who was cleaning some empty tables.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Such a beautiful old and sacred building and then some rascal starts smearing paint on the main door. I think, he did it on purpose to shock people. I hope the police get him.”

“I sure hope not!” Inno said spontaneously.

“What is that supposed to mean?” the woman asked menacingly

“Well….,” Inno improvised an answer, “One can have different opinions on where it was painted, but all online editions describe it as art. Even the local reporter is full of praise about its artistic quality and technical expertise.”

“This is not art, it’s only a provocative insult!” the woman growled. “. “You youngsters have no respect left. But you are right in one thing: one can have different opinions about it.”

“You managed to do it again, angel,” Inno thought with an inner smile. “There’s emotion again!”

She continued with her work, leaving him in peace. He started staring at the black and white picture in the paper again, thinking:

“I must feel the full impact of it… in real time!”

He looked up and whispered to himself:

“There’s only one way. I have to see this with my own eyes… and right now!”

He finished his coffee and his croissant, folded the newspaper and walked into the alley. Having all the time in the world he sauntered the short distance to the central square, until he arrived in front of the cathedral’s main entrance. A look around told him a lot of people were still discovering the painting. Some were angry, others shook their heads in silent indignation and some looked at it with a certain degree of admiration. It pleased him and would certainly please Niki: no matter the emotions each of the onlookers felt, he was living in the eyes of a lot of people!

When he finally saw Maddog’s newest painting, he was simply overawed. He stood with open mouth, his eyes drinking in every detail his brains could process. It took him a full minute to recover, but then he whispered to himself:

“Wow! Niki… this isn’t just cool… this is super-ultra-legit! You’re a genius!”

But he put it in perspective immediately when he grinned:

“But… one can say I’m a bit prejudiced.”

After his first, more than overwhelming impression, he started to study the work in detail.

It was composed of several elements, but it formed a visual whole. On the foreground to the left was a small, naked boy, seen from the back, his face looking up towards the apparition that rose up in front of him. With his back to the onlooker, his eyes were invisible, but they must have been terrified, because what he saw was a prehistoric-looking sea dragon, that rose out of the dark waters of the night sea amidst splatters of water around it. Its eyes were grueling and bloodshot and its muzzle repulsive and fearful. In its front claws it held a large, burning cross which spread a spooky glow over its scaled body. The whole scene was illuminated by a bleak moon sending an eerie milky-white, at some points grey, light over all of it.

The dragon, clearly the centerpiece, was in beautiful colors, gliding gradually from silver-grey to a kind of dirt glistening green, to orange in several shades. Its skin was modelled in such a way it gave the suggestion each and every crocodile-like scale could be counted.

But there was one thing which eluded Inno: the meaning! It didn’t matter that he knew there was one, he was unable to understand it at that moment. Everything Maddog made had a meaning. Nothing was just another image. The prime advantage he had over all those other people around him was he could ask the artist about it.

His eyes searched the poster and found it. Yes, it was a real Maddog, with his signature, but obvious by art. He kept staring at the painting for some time, he couldn’t get enough of it. And maybe he would find elements his eyes had missed before. He didn’t and finally after taking some pictures with his smartphone, he turned around to leave. Exactly at the moment he saw there was something odd about Maddog’s signature poster. A few extra words had been added. These words had never been there on his other works before, they were written in small lettering. The difference was so tiny it would escape anyone else’s attention, but not his!

He got as close as he could to find out what was written. The rest of the poster was as always: the snarling doghead, the words ‘Living in your Eyes’ and the multi-colored name ‘Maddog.’ But underneath, at the bottom of the poster, written in felt pen, it read: ‘For Inno.’

It moved him instantly; it touched him so deep tears streamed from his eyes. He wasn’t even ashamed about it, he let them run freely over his cheeks.

“You made it for me?” he whispered. “You goddamned sweetest angel in the world, you made it for me? But why?”

He swept the tears away and on the spot he decided he had his own surprise for Niki, apart from intending to find out why this wonderful piece of art was made especially for him. With a delighted smile he turned around and went home, the detailed steps for his somewhat unexpected, but no doubt very welcome surprise, playing through his mind.

 

The waiting seemed endless to Inno. While trying to pass the time he felt more and more tense. It was not some negative tension, but a very positive one, more a kind of nervous expectancy, as if he was waiting for his very first date.

But he had to admit to himself, that he heaved a sigh of relief when he heard the apartment door open, followed by the familiar voice calling out:

“Hi, sweetheart, I’m home again!”

Cheering, Inno stormed off of the couch, ran the few meters to the small hallway and literally fell Niki around his neck, while he pushed his full body against him, giving him the most impetuous and fierce tongue kiss imaginable.

“Wow,” Niki muttered breathless, once their lips parted. “What did I do to deserve this welcome?”

“You know damned well, cute Maddog!” Inno said softly.

“Ah… that!” Niki grinned, “Then it might be a good idea to do some more paintings.”

“You have nothing to complain about,” Inno objected with a teasing smile. “Besides, you have been painting all day.”

“That is only a ‘Niki’”, Niki countered, “Not a real ‘Maddog.’”

“I want to make love to you!” Inno sighed as if he hadn’t heard Niki’s last remark, his eyes glowing with desire.

“You little animal,” Niki giggled. “We made love yesterday.”

“I don’t care,” Inno whispered in the huskiest voice Niki had ever heard. “That was yesterday. This is for today! Come on…!”

Without giving his boyfriend a chance to object he took his hand and drew him towards the bedroom.

After the opening kiss the pieces of clothing were thrown all over the room, which was quite an achievement, since they undressed each other while their lips remained in very close contact and their eyes closed.

Being both naked, totally overheated and now only driven by extreme salacity, Niki expected they would go to bed, but Inno had different, very unexpected plans. He pushed Niki back against the wall and, without moving his lips from his lover’s mouth, he pressed his body against Niki’s and laced his arms around the back of his boyfriend’s head in what was almost a stranglehold. While their tongues performed a delicate choreography in the confined spaces of their mouths, Niki felt how Inno pushed one of his legs up, letting the soft inner thigh slide up and down over his upper leg and over his hip, while the enormous cock pressed into his abdomen. Even whispering was an impossibility, so his only appreciable reaction was a soft moan of pleasure, coming directly from the depths of his throbbing heart.

At long last Inno granted him a much-needed breather, when he finally withdrew his lips from Niki’s mouth. Niki greedily sucked in the much needed air, but he didn’t get much rest. With eyes ablaze Inno looked at him and whispered:

“Today I want it all! First I want to make you cum and then I’m going to fuck your ass!”

“Then take all you want, sweetheart”, Niki moaned in expectant delight.

It wouldn’t have mattered if he had resisted: Inno was already on his knees and had taken his dick in his mouth. The tongue that had caressed his own tongue until not even a minute ago, was now licking the tip of his dick, teasing until the lust became an almost painful experience, turning slow and lazy circles around the base of his flared crown.

While enduring all this bewitching and thrilling torture Niki enjoyed how Inno’s soft lips glided over his hard prick from head to root with an unsurpassed fondness. He could only react in one way, apart from his continuous panting and whining: his hands clutched Inno’s head and his fingers started to crawl through the ginger curls in a virtually uncontrolled way. He had the overwhelming feeling of the pressure building, but he wanted to extend this extra-mundane suffering, caused by Inno’s tongue and lips, so with great effort he whispered:

“Not too fast… sweetheart… if you go on like this I will cum!”

Without relaxing his heavenly coercion Inno reacted with a sole carnal groan and he increased his efforts by sucking the erect phallus in his mouth. It broke all defensive attempts to hold back. It was no longer voluntary surrender… Inno seemed determined to extract the white gold from his balls, by brute force if need be. Niki felt every suction in his loins and lower abdomen, making it unbearable to hold his jizz. There was no way out… he had to capitulate… and he had to do it unconditionally. With a loud growl he emptied his balls, directly in Inno’s mouth.

Inno only smacked his lips with clear gratification on his face, rose and started to kiss his adored boyfriend again, pressing the semen back in the mouth of the original owner. Once he did that, he said:

“You taste delicious!”

Still catching his breath and shaking his head to get rid of the many small, red stars he saw, Niki didn’t answer.

“Come on,” Inno said in a commanding way. “Now I want to fuck you!”

He pushed Niki onto the bed, where he fell down on his belly, legs sprawled wide.

“Yeah,” Inno groaned. “That’s the way I want you!”

Before Niki could count to three, Inno was on top of him, covering him, skin pressed against skin, his throbbing dick pushing between those firm round orbs. It felt good, Inno’s hot excited breath on the back of his neck. Inno’s only audible reaction was a moaning sound like a pre-historic human.

There was nothing subtle or refined about Inno’s penetration. With a raw animal-like lust he forced his cock into the boy beneath him. Niki clenched his teeth to stifle an outcry of pain.

Inno started thrusting with the searing tempo of some wild dance, his legs pushing against Niki’s, keeping them wide apart. Niki’s pain subsided, was replaced by a kind of feeling of intoxication, as if he had had a few joints too many. Inno pushed himself off Niki and fucked him in long, deep movements, building rapidly like a piston, his balls swinging.

Suddenly Niki felt a razor-sharp pain at the joint between his shoulder and neck, as if someone had bitten him. The pain was severe, but endurable... it heightened his lust for more. He felt what he wanted to feel: he was desired! He was even longed for.

Inno kept up his thrusting, becoming wilder and wilder by the second. The teeth remained where they were… the only thing Niki heard was Inno’s panting, groaning and growling… the only thing he felt was that large, hard cock pounding his ass, fucking him mercilessly deeper and deeper by ripping his tightness apart mercilessly.

Then the teeth let go… it hurt even more than when they started their bite. He didn’t mind… it was his sacrifice for being wanted… after years of being superfluous or expendable someone really desired him… him, not for what he was supposed to be, but for what he was! It made his heart almost explode with joy!

“Angel… I’m almost there!” Inno cried out.

With a wild yell Inno’s lance pulsed and shot hot spurts. He thrust his hips seeking to bury himself inside his boyfriend as the final jolts left him spent. The feeling made his mind almost blow out of his skull!

Inno’s head fell on Niki’s back as his flame extinguished. Niki perceived his lover’s lips on his shoulder when they pressed a kiss that was tender and passionate at the same time.

“Stay there!” Niki heard himself plead, “Please, stay where you are!”

“But, angel…,” Inno objected weakly.

“I want to feel you… I need to feel you… inside me.”

Inno stayed where he was… his cock buried inside his boyfriend, his naked body collapsed on top of him. After some time he withdrew and propped himself up on his arms, only to cry out in fright:

“Did I do that?”

“What?” Niki asked, not understanding what was meant.

“Biting you… in your neck?” was the upset counterquestion.

“Yeaaahhhh,” Niki said with a beaming smile, “You did that! You’re really turning into a wild beast. But hey… I didn’t mind. In a way it was part… I don’t know how to say it… part of it all. It felt good!”

“I’m so sorry,” Inno said, “I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“Never mind!” Niki tried to sooth Inno’s fears. “It’s all right. I loved it.”

“No, it’s not all right,” Inno whined. “It’s awful. Let me at least kiss that spot to make up for it.”

“You’re more than welcome, honey,” Niki grinned.

After giving the promised kiss Inno rolled off and Niki rolled on his back and stared in the feverishly burning grey eyes.

“I have no idea what made me deserve such a welcome,” Niki said. “Don’t tell me it was that painting on the cathedral door, because I’m not buying it.”

“It really is,” Inno replied. “Not the painting in itself, no matter how cool it really is. But it showed me you accepted me completely, without any reserves, no holding back and any hiding.”

“I really don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Niki uttered under his breath.

“I’ll explain it to you,” Inno said with one of his angelic smiles. “No matter what we talked over some time ago, in a way I always felt somewhat hurt, that you excluded me from of that one aspect of your life, the aspect that is called Maddog. It pained me… it was as if you distrusted me or were afraid I might influence you in your art. It was something solely for yourself, your own private world and it was jealously guarded. But, knowing it was so important to you, I accepted being left out. Today I saw you made me a part of that world as well.”

“How?” Niki asked.

“By those two words you added to your signature poster,” was Inno’s immediate reply. “‘For Inno.’ And it felt so good, I actually cried, right there, on the square, between all those people. It means, at least, I think and hope it means, that I am a full part of your life now, totally and without restrictions or forbidden territories.”

Not saying a word and pretending indifference and reluctance Niki only nodded.

The question of “why” burned on Inno’s lips, but he swallowed it; something inside him said:

“Don’t ask! He doesn’t know himself why. It came out of his heart. And who can explain what the heart whispers?”

Instead asking he said, with tears welling up in his eyes:

“I just felt this irrepressible need to make love to you the rough way.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Niki said softly. “Rough or not… it was more than beautiful”

Inno swept the tears from his cheeks and giggled:

“But I didn’t mean to eat you!”

Inno kept staring into Niki’s eyes, but his glance became intrusive, as if he were studying or looking for something. Niki weathered it for a while, but felt increasingly uncomfortable under the silence and the penetrating gaze, prompting him to ask a little irritated:

“What’s wrong?”

Inno shook his head briefly and replied:

“I don’t know yet. It is something I have to think through and I have to think it through very carefully. I’ll get back with you on this one, once I understand it myself.”

Then he rose, took Niki’s hand and clearly changing subjects, he said with a smile:

“How about a tea?”

Hand in hand they walked to the living room. While Inno made tea, Niki switched on his laptop, strictly out of habit, to look for any new e-mails. There was one, that read:

“I always thought I gave you too many lessons and it turns out I’m right.

Great job, kid!

R”

Niki grinned and called out:

“That’s funny, there’s a mail from Raimund.”

“Ah, that rat!” Inno reacted indifferently.

“How did he know about the painting?” Niki wondered.

Inno came back with two mugs of tea, put them on the table and embraced his lover.

“Because, my angel, it is all over the national press, in case you didn’t know.”

“Really?” Niki exclaimed in utter surprise.

Inno nodded:

“Yeap, you’re a hot shot now!”

However, he added immediately:

“But that Raimund… he’s still a rat.”

Niki stared pensively ahead of him for a few seconds.

“I don’t know. Yes, he abused me, he hurt me deeply… he sure shouldn’t have put those pictures on the internet, but I wouldn’t be the artist I am now if he hadn’t been there. I have a lot to thank him for, you know.”

With a grin on his face Inno settled the matter with:

“Let’s make a compromise on this, Oki? He’s a great teacher, but he’s still a rat!”

Laughing they sat and drank their tea, content with each other’s nearness. After half an hour Inno’s face suddenly turned red, when he tittered:

“Shit, angel, we forgot to dress. We’re sitting naked in the living room. Our neighbor across the street must be in a state of shock by now!”

Niki shrugged unimpressed and grinned:

“So what? Let’s call it his righteous punishment for spying on us all the time! That will teach him!”