Made in Heaven - 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 behaviour 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 heís 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 isnít 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 Gregorís 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.