Angel's Trumpets - 8. Chapter 8

Capitol Hill

Vincenzo shivered despite the warm, balmy air. The echo of the shot roared in his ears. What did this mean? Was Leandro dead, struck down by the killer? And Daniel? Vincenzo's whole body shook and he was about to piss in his pants. What should ne do? See what happened there in the darkness between the mighty museum's buildings?

He jumped when he heard a car behind him. It had taken the same way as he and Daniel had a few minutes ago. The door opened and Cornelius stepped out.

"What happened here? Where's your friend?"

"There." Vincenzo's quivering arm and hand pointed the direction.

"And you? Where's the other guy you drove with in the car?"

Vincenzo didn't answer. A wailing of sirens sounded: a police car shot up the hill, coming to a halt next to Cornelius' car. "Are you the man who called for us?" the officer asked.

"Yes. There was a shooting."

"Ok, stay here." He pulled out his gun and loaded it. Together with his colleague he disappeared into the shadows, in the direction of Tarpeian Rock.

Vincenzo and Cornelius stood motionless until an ambulance flashed its blue light like a mute beacon through the night. It was like a silent movie playing in front of Vincenzo's sight: The stretcher, that was pulled out, the return with a motionless body, covered in a golden, rustling blanket and an oxygen mask over his face. After a while it was Leandro next to Daniel, who had given him his jacket to cover his still naked upper body. Vincenzo saw the blood sleeve and gulped, empty from shock, yet with relief.

Their eyes met. Leandro frowned and gave him a sad and most disappointed look. Daniel ignored him completely.

"Come", Cornelius said finally. "Think we both need a drink."

Vincenzo let it happen. Meekly he stepped into Cornelius' car. He felt his burning cheeks and the coldness of his hands, nothing more.

"At least they're all alive", he heard Cornelius' voice from far away. "You ran away?"

Vincenzo's shoulders sank a little. Then: "What would you have done, facing a gun?" he shouted.

"Calm down, it was just a simple question." Cornelius watched the other man in the small mirror. He didn't look too good.

E.U.R.

Once arrived in his small flat at the E.U.R. Quarter he mixed him a Cinzano and Vincenzo emptied the glass in one go. Then his shivering stopped finally.

"Can I have a cigarette?"

Cornelius tossed him his package and watched how Vincenzo lit one, inhaled deeply, started to cough and took another drag. "I couldn't do anything. If I had moved to help Leandro he would have shot me", it gushed out of his mouth. "And there was Daniel, he was going the other way around to stop this asshole."

"What was this about actually?" Cornelius asked. He sat in the corner of his couch, sipped at his Cinzano, smoked silently and stared motionless at the bag of nerves in front of him.

"We were trying to find the murderer from Luigi's Bar."

"The cardinal? That was the cardinal you spoke about?" Cornelius' eyes widened. "Your ex-lover played the bait, right?" He whistled through his teeth. "But somehow everything went off course." He leaned back. "How could he be so stupid to go alone with the killer?"

"He wasn't alone, there should have been two of the strippers in the room to help him. Perhaps they were not there..."

Cornelius shrugged. "Anyway, your friends are safe." He poured Vincenzo another Cinzano.

"And I'm the coward", Vincenzo said low.

Cornelius shrugged once more. He wasn't sure what he would have done in Vincenzo's shoes.

"Now I'm through in his eyes for sure. I haven't helped him; I was running away."

"Hey, stop it." Cornelius threw him another cigarette. "It's too late for self reproaches. I told you that you didn't have a real chance with your ex-lover." He stretched out his body. "Perhaps you can console yourself with me?" He raised an eyebrow suggestively and Vincenzo's head started to spin. The alcohol, the cigarettes and the fresh surge of adrenaline worked their ways when Cornelius stood up and pushed him into his bedroom.

It hadn't helped much for Vincenzo lay awake the whole night, listening to the unfamiliar breathing next to him. He had allowed Cornelius to do everything last night - everything that was possible between two males and he had enjoyed it as long as he had been able to repress Leandro's disappointed face.

Well, he did Cornelius wrong. He was really nice but it just wasn't the same. It would never be the same. No matter how many men he would consume. Vincenzo comprehended suddenly that it was either loneliness or one night stands. Sometimes both were the same. How could he find the right man for him when Leandro was lost to him? Cornelius? Perhaps. No. Cornelius WAS a one night stand. He doubted that he wanted more from a guy.

Silently he rose, stepped out of bed and looked for his clothes. When he was about to pull on his trousers a golden ring fell from his pocket and rolled exactly in front of the bed.

Cornelius opened his eyes and snatched it. "Want to ask for an engagement?" he muttered sleepily, then his brain functions started to work. He looked at the ring in his palm and to Vincenzo. "You're married, right? That's the reason you came here. One fuck-goodbye before you return to our wife." Cornelius sat upright and shook his head. Vincenzo stood there, trousers in hand, like a poor wretch.

"Does our wife know?"

Vincenzo shook his head. Cornelius nodded. "That's no good. Sooner or later it will return. Your longing. You have to decide. Or are you bi?"

Vincenzo shrugged his shoulders.

"You can't deny your very being." Cornelius stepped out of bed and slipped into his morning robe, lit a cigarette and guided Vincenzo into the tiny kitchen where he busied himself with preparing the Espresso machine. "Do you love your wife?" he asked over his shoulder. "If yes, it's ok. Love's always good. But you must tell her about your feelings toward other men."

"I can't. I'll lose her."

"Let her have time to decide", Cornelius continued unmoved. "If she can live with it, it's ok for both of you, if she can't you should leave."

"But I don't love her."

Cornelius stubbed his cigarette. The machine gargled and hissed. "All right. Then why are you with her?"

"You don't have to love somebody to have a good time together."

"Right. Last night's proof. You want kids?"

"No."

Cornelius breathed out audible. "Afraid I can't help ou then. Usually it's the wish for a family that drives us into women's arms, or the family pressure." But one thing is clear." His finger pointed high in the air. "You'll never ever be happy in your life. Each day you'll curse that day when you submitted to this connection. Every time you pass a handsome man you'll ask yourself how he might be in bed."

"I can't." Vincenzo held his palms over his ears and slumped down in a chair. "I can't, I can't."

Cornelius gave up. Resignedly he said, "It's ok, Vince. Perhaps one day you'll find the guts."

One day.

"Would you like me for your boyfriend?"

It took Cornelius a while before he answered. "I'm sure a lot of guys would like to have you for their boyfriend." He smiled. "I'm not made for it. It's fun that's all."

"That's all? That's all gay life is about?"

Cornelius stepped quickly closer. "Listen, I don't think it's THE gay life. We aren't better than any other man in the world. Perhaps just one fortune: You'll get what you want. No beating around the bush, no waiting until you're allowed to touch - or more. It's sex, pure and clear; there aren't any questions left." He lit another cigarette and stood relaxed in the middle of the room.

Vincenzo was disappointed. He thought there should be something else. "Well, then better to return to the world I know."

"No, understand me right. I was talking about myself. There's certainly more. Just not for me; I don't need it. I haven't said it would be easy to start a new life but you've begun already; why stop halfway?"

Vincenzo shook his head. Perhaps one day.

"Hey," Cornelius lifted his chin. "Thanks for the night. What a loss for the community." He winked and stepped back. "Do what you want."

Vincenzo took this as an invitation to go.

Gianicolo

Nobody noticed that Leandro and Daniel hadn't come home. It was the next morning when Kay was up early to make breakfast when he heard the door closing. A minute later Daniel appeared with a tight bandage around his upper arm. He held it in a sling around his neck.

"Gosh, what happened to you? I didn't know you hadn't come home."

Leandro was behind him, looking very tired, dirty and unbelievably sad. Despite his stomach grumble he couldn't bring himself to eat something right now. He just plopped upon a chair next to Daniel.

"What happened, man? Talk!"

Kay listened, head shaking and with growing anger. "This you both did alone? You must be mad. Why haven't you told us? And the cardinal?"

"He's receiving surgery. The sand and shrubs had eased his fall, but he got a broken leg and both arms. And a concussion. Might be that his spine is damaged too."

Kay was silent. "Well," he said then, "he deserves each single broken limb." He poured coffee into the cups. Leandro's mouth watered. Having this out to somebody he felt more light hearted than before. Daniel had gotten a grazing shot of his upper arm that needed no surgery, it had to heal by it's self.

When Sebastian, Marcus and Nick appeared he couldn't repeat this story once more, so Kay filled them in. They said nothing, just stared at both before they started to chat, all at the same time.

"And Vincenzo really ran away? That coward!" Kay lashed out.

"Well..." Daniel said hesitating. "You are what you are. Nothing more and nothing less."

Leandro pressed his hand. Once he had thought that he needed proof which of them loved him more. He had gotten the proof last night, but he would have preferred it hadn't cost that much. Almost their lives... He shook his head imperceptible. It didn't depend on having proof or not. That was silly. He had felt a long time ago that Daniel was the right man, no matter if he had saved his life or not.

"Nando will deliver the photos to the police. I'm sure they will have a use for them, no matter if he's a cardinal of the Holy See or not", Daniel finished. His arm hurt. The effect of the pain killers subsided slowly. Meanwhile he thought that last night's events had only been a dream. He couldn't have done this - be threatened with a gun, fought with the killer and threw him down a steep embankment? Well, actually it was Leandro but the result was the same. But then, as Kay said, he deserved each broken limb he had.

Leandro plopped exhausted upon the small couch in his room, shortly followed by Daniel who took the other corner. They sat in silence, the sun falling in a diagonal angle into the room. It was the morning of another hot day in Rome but within him it was night. The momentary relief had vanished, and gloom returned. Pain choked his throat; he wiped his eyelids and pinched them, before a dry sob escaped.

Daniel turned his head and took Leandro's hand that lay outstretched and limp between them before he pulled him into his arms and cooed words. "It's all right, honey, we're safe."

The sobs ceased. Leandro touched the bandage around Daniel's arm. "How can I make up for this?" he said low. But Daniel smiled. "They say if you save someone's life you're responsible for his future life for always. I don't think that's too much of a burden for me."

Leandro blinked and smiled too.

Ospedale Tre Croci

"Your Villa at Via Appia, don't you remember?" Andrea had lifted his bed and sat comfortably leaning against the cushions while Roberto in the bed next to him and a white bandage around his head, had to lay flat due to his concussion.

Andrea peered over to the very pale face that belonged to George Rosenstock. He had a small tube leading to the drip that nursed his body. Physically he was somewhat better but mentally... Andrea shook his head. The docs had put them all in the same room because they had the hope they could shock George from his amnesia.

So far in vain, but it was just a few days ago. Actually Andrea didn't need to stay in hospital anymore but he wanted to keep George and Roberto company and since he paid the bills, nobody objected as long as the bed wasn't needed.

Despite everything that George had done to Andrea he felt pity for him. He had suffered so much. The doc had spoken about a sexual abusing, asking Andrea bluntly about George's inclinations.

The guys - above all Sebastian - had told them everything that had happened when Cardinal Borghese had been delivered into the same hospital, possibly the killer of two young gay men. And almost of George too.

George blinked uncomprehendingly. He had a vague shadow of a picture in his mind of a dark room lit by a candle and the presence of a man that was connected with pain. The man and the pain were the same. He watched how the handsome, dark haired man came up to him and sat upon his bed. "The large villa you just bought." Andrea swallowed "for us" he actually wanted to say. Was it good to remind George? Perhaps he wouldn't remember.

George wished he would speak a little slower because he couldn't follow him properly. He couldn't remember who he was and why he was here no matter how much they inquired about everything that had happened to him.

He had forgotten everything, who he was, what had happened the days before and why he was lying in a hospital bed. Attentively he watched the young face in front of him. He spoke English with a hard accent. Hard and soft at the same time. A black, neatly trimmed mustache covered his upper lip, George wondered if it would tickle if it would touch his private parts. He flinched involuntarily. What private parts? When he clenched the muscles of his orifice inwards, he felt pain.

"Pain..." he muttered.

"I know you're in pain George." Andrea said. "This monster had a go on you very badly. Better you can't remember, it's not pleasant." Andrea stopped. He shouldn't recall these things, not now. "Now, George," he said more cheerful, "I'm sure you remember your house in London. Greenwich, do you?"

George blinked. "Have you... have you been there?" he asked.

"Well, no. But you told me about it." Surely enough Andrea had stayed in his house in London while both attended the Versace exhibition last spring, but he didn't want to give any sign that George and he himself had been lovers, well, a sort of lovers. He stopped. No. They hadn't been lovers at all. Andrea had behaved like the lowest slut in town, fucking George for money. Enough money to go away with Roberto.

Involuntarily his had turned to Roberto lying in his bed, watching with his eyes. He gave him a smile.

"What am I doing here?" George asked again.

"You were kidnapped."

"Kidnapped? By whom?"

"He is in custody."

Flashes of a dark chamber in George's mind. A floating candle, sat by his bed, a cup with hot tea that tasted funny. Oblivion afterwards. Pain when he awoke.

"Well, George you'll recover soon. Are you going back to London then? Your business here is over." Andrea waited and watched.

George's eyes shut slowly and he seemed to fall back into sleep. Better for him. Sooner or later he would remember everything and then Andrea wanted to be far away from him. The doctors had diagnosed amnesia, forced by the poison that had been given him. They still examined him to find out which poison it was, but explained that George had good chances to regain his memory.

Andrea rose and sat on Roberto's bed, took his hand and patted it. "Sebastian felt pretty awkward when I had thanked him yesterday. At least it was him who saved us all, but he thinks he doesn't deserve it. After all it was Marcus, Nick and Kay who had come to our final rescue."

Roberto nodded. "Let's not talk about it anymore."

Andrea lowered his head and gave him a quick kiss. "And actually it was you who came and started this all. I'm glad to have you."

Roberto wondered about the soft tone Andrea was using. Perhaps the days alone in darkness, silence and hopelessness had changed something within him. Perhaps... Perhaps it was a start of a different relationship. Without George Rosenstock, without him to sit and ponder. Without thinking that Andrea was a complete asshole, doubting his words that he did all this to lead a better life with him - Roberto - afterwards. He stared into Andrea's dark eyes. Promising to much. He felt the hand that embraced his own. And he started to believe.

Ospedale Tre Croci

Principe Gianluca Borghese-Caffarelli had survived his surgery but his spine had permanent damage, so he would end up his life in a wheel chair. After three weeks he was strong enough to sit in the bed. The casts on his arms had been taken away and just tight bandages covered them from the wrists to his elbows. He could move his hands and fingers, also his neck and back but nothing below. His legs could have been cut off - it made no difference. Feverishly his hand slid under the bedcover to find the special place he was so fond of. Frightened he lifted the cover to have a look. It was still there but he didn't feel the touch. His cock was dead. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. He groaned. He would have given his right arm for a hard on.

Each morning he hoped in vain. The doctors left no hope for him. It was permanent damage of the spine. Hate boiled in his guts. The boy and his fuck body... The last bullet he had saved in his gun should have been for himself and not for that son of a bitch. He couldn't believe his naivety that Leandro should have fancied to fuck with him. Instead - he had been trapped, beaten and thrown over an embankment.

His fingers tenderly outlined the length of his penis. What a waste. No guy would now feel the pleasure it brings. The pleasure of being fucked, the pleasure of being shaken with lust, desire and overpowered by his - Gianluca Borghese's - will power. The last fuck of his life, what was it? He regretted that he hadn't been able to enter the young, pretty boy and punish him for the trick he had played on him. Ah! What would it mean to him... He stroked and rubbed his flaccid cock but neither he sensed the touch nor did it have any response. It was simply dead - no orgasms anymore, no slippery, tight tunnel where he could shed his urging semen. The Britisher! The British guy he had left in the chamber at San Sebastiano! What had happened to him. He must be dead after all this time. Well, served him right. He was dead now like Gianluca's cock. Useless, it hung along his leg, pierced with a tube that led the urine to a bag hanging outside the bed. Ugh.

If he was now bound to lead the life of a cripple ... he corrected himself - of an impotent cripple. He looked to the window. It was protected with iron grating.

The door opened and a male nurse entered the room. A bulky man stepped in behind him, wearing white hospital clothes, folded his heave, strong arms in front of his mighty chest, looking grimly at the bed. Gianluca loved the young nurse although he hadn't spoken a single word to him.

He controlled the place of the tube that filled Gianluca with a painful desire. He sure must be impressed by the size but his face didn't show any reaction. He should see it when it stood proudly! Gianluca's hand reached out and touched the nurse's private parts. The bulge was pleasant although not hard. The young man stepped away and gave him a slap upon his fingers as he would have done to a child. Then he and his bodyguard left the room.

No more... no more! No sucking mouth, no orifice to lick. He longed for a cup of his Angel's Trumpets so much that his whole body shivered, but nobody would bring him one. The Brit had loved the taste of it too. Gianluca grinned a distorted smile. How good he had been, and quiet and obeying. Always ready for him. As soon as he was out of here he would visit him. Down there in the small chamber. He was waiting for sure for his daily share of tea and sex. Gianluca chortled and rubbed his penis. And then everything would be like it was before.

Gianicolo

The heat had subsided. Rome's inhabitants returned from their holiday domiciles to fill the streets, houses and shops.

Marcus was laying in a recliner in Sebastian's garden. He enjoyed the peace after all the rampage that had a grip on all of them the past weeks. He pondered why they always had to be enmeshed in adventures no matter where they went. He started to fancy the idea to move to Italy with everything he possessed. Johannes could run his workshop and the new shop that had just opened.

The sun stroked his face like the touch of a lover. Probably Nicki wouldn't like the idea. He was going to the Academy of Arts, he had his parents in Berlin and his friends too. He doubted that he would gladly leave Matthias, Ben nor Simon. But then...

The closing of car doors disturbed him and he opened his eyes to see Simon opening the gate leading to Sebastian's house. Great, they had come back from Naples just at the right time. In a few days school would start again for Nick and Ben and they all would return to Berlin. But before that Marcus needed to have some words with Simon; he still felt somehow responsible for him. And they had shared a good part of mutual life. He smiled at both and rose to take the baggage but Ben waved him off. They looked good, deep tanned and smelled of salty air and fresh wind.

"Nobody here?"

"Nope. Sebastian and Leandro are at work, Danny elsewhere, Kay and Nicki... I have no clue. During the last days they had put their heads together and chortled incessantly." Marcus grimaced then laughed. "They won't tell me what's going on."

Simon plopped upon a wicker chair next to him. "So you're all abandoned. I suppose there's nothing for us to eat?"

"Sure, for you some mashed potatoes and apple puree", he said wickedly. He knew that Simon hated those dishes. He was fed too long in hospital. He received a slap, but Ben understood the hint and vanished in the house and kitchen.

"I don't have to ask you if you enjoyed the trip, you both look great." Marcus eyes Simon. "Hey, the people are piled up in lines to have a look at the real Santo Bambino, do you know?"

"No... where from?" Simon laughed. "So now it can work miracles again, yes? Perhaps I should visit it."

"You definitely should." Marcus said even if he wasn't superstitious. But sometimes belief could move mountains. He bent forward and took one of Simon's slim hands in his. "You're look good, and how do you feel?"

"Good, Marcus. I need to go for the blood test as soon as we're home. Doc Hardenberg is pleased with the results." Briefly he thought about the old discussion he once had with Ben. 'You won't die tomorrow nor in the next years. Understand finally.' And Ben turned out to be right. Simon had come to terms that he had enough time left, after all he was 'just' infected, nothing more. That meant enough time to lead a normal life and if he'd follow strictly the diet for another year his liver would turn back to its normal function perhaps.

'Perhaps' was now not a word that caused him depression because it didn't mean a 'yes' or a 'certainly', but was pure hope and the word he clung to. The effects of the tablets sometimes made him tired and depressed but with Ben at his side he was able to forget it for awhile.

He felt Marcus' deep eyes examining him through his very being. It seemed that each one of them had grown and developed. One short spring and summer he had spent now with Ben. But this didn't seem the entire reason. Marcus had significantly changed since he was with Nicholas - for better since he had been on the verge of losing him for good.

Marcus seemed to read his mind because he said, "It was a long way." And Simon understood. He nodded. "You never told me if you've slept with Sebastian while we both were together. Or what you did while in Paris, London or New York."

Marcus pressed his hand. "You know the answer. We both had a good time together."

"But Sebastian was stronger. He always stood between us."

"Do you see it this way? Well, perhaps you're right." Marcus' eyes roamed the garden without seeing it. "He always stood between us, right. I couldn't free myself." He fixed his gaze on Simon again. "And then it happened once more and I lost Nicholas. In the end it's me to blame for your disease. I should have known how careless you are. How easy to seduce and liable for every kind of flattery and fun."

Simon shook his head in a determined way. "Stop it Marcus. There's just me and only me responsible. I wasn't exactly a child. Perhaps I should have sought for a confrontation with you. Telling you it's either me or the others. Me or your work. Although I didn't want you to stop your work. But you seemed so far away. Mentally, you know. I was reduced to the body you needed. If you were not too tired."

Simon's voice was without bitterness and reproaches and Marcus sensed that he spoke out of memories that belonged to the past but had to be spoken at least one time and then no more. Their mutual time was over and there had been some parts of it that had been thoroughly joyful. He leaned forward and gave Simon a kiss. "Thanks for the forgiveness." Both smiled at each other.

"You know nothing about the latest events, honey." And then Marcus told him about their adventures in the catacombs, the finding of George Rosenstock, the events at Luigi's Bar and the end of Cardinal Borghese. Ben, meanwhile, back with a large plate of scrambled eggs, bread and tomatoes listened with growing amazement. "Heavens, and all this we missed, Simon. You could have made a novel from this."

"Well, I still can", Simon said and his eyes twinkled.

Capitol Hill

It was one of those warm nights that had brought them all together. This and Tasso's fashion show, protected by Nino Cerruti although he could not be present.

The crowd was gathering. There had been large advertisements all over the town and naturally a fashion show held by Cerruti wasn't an everyday occurrence although Rome was used to big shows held at the Spanish Steps. But a fashion show with strictly men's wear was new.

The place bathed in the characteristic soft yellow light that was to be found at each important building in Rome by night. The trapezium shaped Piazza with the equestrian statue of Emperor Marcus Aurelius amid was full of people. Tourist, buyers, curious people, inhabitants and last but not least, full of journalists and camera people.

They were served champagne and salmon, and even Marcus had decided to take a glass of champagne although he really didn't like this drink. Nicholas showed distinct signs of nervousness and Marcus wondered about him. Next to their table Simon and Ben were sitting, whispering together and holding hands. Marcus smiled at them.

A shush was running through the crowd when Tasso appeared at the end of the catwalk that was built amid the place. The floodlight threw a bright spot light. He was dressed as Lady Soffocante, a last tribute to the old days at Luigi's Bar.

"Now, signori e signores", he spoke into the microphone, "Let the show begin!" The people applauded. "First of all some words of Nino Cerruti I've thankfully received. He regrets not to be able to take part in this performance but you all know what his business is like." The people laughed. "It's now my turn to say a thank you to Nino, wherever he might be right now. Although it's strictly his fashion show, he allowed me to present some of my own work. It's up to you to decide." He paused. "Well, it's my humble expression that I'm in no way a competitor though!"

The crowd applauded once more. Tasso spread out his arms and said, "And now, famous for Luigi's Bar, now at the "Fourty Seven": Nando and Christian!"

They emerged at the end of the catwalk, walking as self-conscious as they had performed on stage. Both felt the urge to drop their underwear and laughed at each other.

Behind them they heard Tasso's announcements of Kay, appearing in a long jacket, striped like a zebra and knee-length boots. Midway he opened the jacket and showed his bare chest and the bright red mid thigh long pants. Just the middle of them covered his private parts, the rest was translucent, including his backside. Kay's cheeks were a delicate pink but it wasn't to be seen in the bright light. He bravely walked on until the very end of the catwalk; detected Sebastian who gave him a thumbs up.

Kay smiled and enjoyed the flashlights from the photographers. As he turned, he lifted his long jacket and gave the audience a glimpse of his butt, shaded with fine translucent red material. The crowd cheered. More flashlights came. Kay grinned as he met Nicholas halfway through.

Marcus choked on his champagne as it went down the wrong way. Nicholas had excused himself to the toilets a few minutes ago and now he appeared on stage! Sebastian and he exchanged an amazed look. "Holy cow!" shouted Sebastian. Leandro laughed about their faces.

Nicholas wore a short T-shirt that left most of his arms free, the material changing from yellow to pink and so was his skirt. He was looking like a young Tarzan, the skin gleaming in the illumination.

Kay walked by his side, reached around and opened the button of the skirt with one grip. The briefs matched the colours of his T-shirt and Marcus took a sharp breath. He looked ... he didn't know how.... great. He just laughed and applauded like mad.

"Are you sure it's your shy Nicki?" Sebastian asked.

"He must be. Or he has a look alike!"

"That's our boys," Sebastian said proudly to nobody special.

They watched the next hour the other models, presenting Cerruti's clothes and underwear, and smiled at both lad's performance.

Two hours later they all met in a posh restaurant. Tasso had received loads of advance bookings, not only for Cerruti's underwear but for his own creations too. It had been the ones Nick, Kay and the strippers were wearing.

"What an exciting life I'm leading since I've met you", Nick sighed happily. Marcus pressed his hand and smiled at him.

"Mum and Dad would have a fit if they'd see the photos tomorrow in the newspapers."

Marcus laughed. "Perhaps they'd be proud."

"Oh, no. Me an ordinary underwear model! That's over the top." He raised his glass of red wine to his lover. Marcus watched him. Then he said, "Without you there wouldn't be a Ben, and Simon would still be sad, selling his body." He glanced over the table at the pair, both sun burnt, Simon's dark hair bleached by the sun. He listened attentively to Ben, apparently registering and remembering everything in his mind to write it down later.

"And Sebastian wouldn't have found his love. Everything started with you. And I?" Marcus shrugged.

"You would have the screen without me."

"Oh yeah. I would. But what is it compared to a man I love? I'd still be chasing around the world, searching for something I wouldn't find." He looked into Nicholas' violet blue eyes. "It's still like the very first day, angel. You and me on the street, the rain splashing onto our chalk drawing." They looked into each other's eyes until Leandro snapped his fingers in front of them. "Completely absorbed", he laughed. "This must be love."

Sebastian lifted his glass. "To us", he toasted.

Eight glasses clinked together.