Made in Heaven

MADE IN HEAVEN by Stefan http://stefan680.tripod.com/stefanstories/index2.html

Chapter 11: ... but I ain't keen on living either

Christian had almost forgotten the cat when he came home. But Coco brought himself all to well into memory again. He had positioned in the middle of the living room and watched each step Christian made. Then he went on, gracious, with his tail high in the air, into the kitchen and sat expectantly beside his bowls.

"Now, you funny lad, are you hungry again? The doc said there's no gourmet's food for a couple of days. Just soaked bread."

Coco meowed.

Chris took a toast and soaked it in milk, then he broke off little crumbs and put it into Coco's bowl. Coco sniffed and looked annoyed.

"Not your taste, eh?" Chris squatted down. "It's your fault there isn't anything better to eat today. Why did you have to nibble at the plants?" The cat's eyes pierced his own without blinking. "I'll never understand what Maxim likes about you", he muttered. "You sneaking, silent little monster. Now eat or leave it."

He left the kitchen and threw himself upon the leather couch. He turned on the TV to hear the news. When they were over a quarter past eight, his cellphone rang. It was Maxim telling him he would be late because he had an invitation by Philipp. When he cut the connection he was down. Had everything conspired against him? Why did he have to meet Philipp at all?! Of course, from now on whenever they got together, they could make negative remarks about his control-mania, about his fits of jealousy. It was a luck he had told Phil nothing about his mother and how she had treat her husband. How very embarrassing for all of them. Maxim never needed to know. He regretted that he had let out too much last night... about his being guilty of her death. Albeit this was the truth. He sighed heavily.

The cat came running out of the kitchen and made himself comfortable in the armchair. He closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep. At least he didn't shy away from Christian's closeness, if it wasn't too close. But he never allowed Christian to touch him. He sighed once more and remembered Tim's story he hadn't finished yet. He went over to the bedroom, picked up the manuscript, lounged at the couch and started to read.

"Carsten chatted with him with amorous eyes about everything. Then he locked his blue eyes with Sascha's. "I suppose you don't have a boyfriend", he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, laying back the spoon he had used to finish his desert. "At least I've seen nobody picking you up."

"Instead you're being picked up each week by another guy."

"Well, yes. Caught."

Sascha crooked his head. "And now you've detected me." He wanted to see what Carsten would answer. Sascha was unscrupulous enough, to take advantage of the fairy-spell. "For a one-night-stand?"

"One-night-stand? Did I ever do that?" Carsten called out with studied indignation. He gave him another of that ardent-amorous

looks. "I don't know why it happened but I think I'm in love."

"With me." Sascha stated. This was all great fun. Tomorrow morning he would wake up alone again. The appearance in the bookshop hours ago must have been a hallucination. Perhaps he had a day dream while watching the object of his desire.

"With you, yes." Carsten's voice was absolutely convincing, yet dreamy. Sascha saw the proverbial little hearts flickering in his pupils. "You'll come with me, will you?"

Sascha didn't hesitate. At least a dream would come true and he would know finally what all the boys before him knew already: that Carsten was an ace in bed.

He followed him to his place. A not very tidy and clean two room apartment. Carsten excused himself that he didn't have much time for cleaning and all. Sascha didn't care seriously. Carsten's bed was spacious and cozy and he didn't leave Sascha much time to think twice. Carsten came over him like a hurricane. There was no way Sascha could escape - and he didn't want it. Although ... when he had caught his breath again and looked at his watch, it seemed that hardly twenty minutes went by and Sascha had already been licked, sucked and fucked.

"Are you always like this?" he panted. "Like a rabbit?"

"Rabbit?" Carsten said drowsy. And then he fell asleep the next second and snored at Sascha's side.

Sascha lay awake and cursed himself. Carsten was all show. Was this the reason he changed his lovers that often? Because they wouldn't come back anyway after this experience?

He turned his head to see the face, the blond hair and the half open mouth. He still looked cute and Sascha's heart tugged painfully. Perhaps he was able to teach him something. To make love for instance.

In the middle of the night Sascha woke up because a cat's tongue was licking him. He started to giggle and lifted the bedcover to find Carsten's head bent over his abdomen, sucking at his balls. "Let's do it again", he said.

Sascha rubbed his eyes. "Alright. But this time it's my turn",

he said slowly.

Carsten's grin vanished. "I thought you'd scream for more. And now you want to lay me? No way."

Sascha wiped the hair out of his eyes. "What do you mean 'no way'? Surely you've done it before."

"It hurts."

"Ah, it hurts! I haven't complaint, have I?"

"No... but,"

"It hurts because it's done wrong."

Carsten looked stupidly. "You say I do it wrong?"

Sascha wriggled and turned Carsten onto his back. "Too fast. Are you always that quick?"

"Quick? That's passion!"

"That's not consequently the same."

A moment long silence filled the room. Sascha saw it working behind Carsten's forehead. "Ok," he said low. "Do it your way."

One and a half hours later Carsten wasn't the man he was before. He grinned like the Cheshire cat and purred likewise in Sascha's arms. Perhaps meeting the godmother wasn't a failure Sascha thought when he drifted off into sleep."

Christian smiled when Maxim opened the door. "Had fun?" he asked good humoured, taking Maxim into his arms. When Maxim anticipated reproaches because he came so late, but he was mistaken.

"You smell like pub", Christian grinned.

"How's Coco?" Maxim's eyes found his cat sleeping in the armchair, but his ears jerked and by Maxim's voice he opened his eyes, jumped down the seat and rubbed up against Maxim's legs.

"He wouldn't eat", Christian said.

"Oh." Maxim took Coco up and went into the kitchen, followed by Christian. The bowl with the mush of soaked toast was untouched. "Listen, sweetie. I know this is no lamb and no chicken, but it's good for your stomach." He poured away the pulp and prepared another toast with milk. Then he sat at the kitchen table, took Coco into his lap, the bowl, morsels of soft toast and pushed them into Coco's mouth. He swallowed. "That's right. You must be hungry." He stroked the fur.

Christian sat across the table. "So Phil got the job, yes? You like him?"

"It's hard not to like him."

Christian's look was lurking. "You speak about me? Must be funny

for you. Or fun."

"Yeah, a little bit." He looked up. "Funny I mean. You don't think we share private information, do you. What happens in our bedroom is nobody's business. Nobody will ever hear me talking about these things."

Christian smiled and leaned over the table to kiss him. "I know", he said. Coco swallowed his toast until the bowl was empty. "Can you fill the other with water please?"

Christian did so and placed it on the floor. "Can we go to bed?"

Maxim nodded. "Tell me how your day has been."

The water prickled down on Christian's head, standing under the shower. When he blinked, he saw Maxim standing in front of him. Naked and pensive.

Christian wiped water out of his eyes. "Do you adore the shower cabin or me?" he asked. Maxim didn't blink. "Of course the shower cabin", he said seriously. He adored it indeed, it was large enough for four and had several heads fit at different heights, so that you could be sprayed either from above, from the sides or all together. "Mine was black, back at home", he said, stepping into the shower, closing the glass door behind him.

"At home? Back at your old home", Christian corrected him. "And why black? That's a depressing colour."

"I think it's rather elegant", Maxim contradicted, pressing his body close to Christian's. Blindly he searched for the soap dispenser, took a blob of it and started to soap Christian's back.

"Well, it lays in the eyes of the beholder", Chris said, closed his eyes and enjoyed Maxim's hands. After a while he did the same for Maxim, closing one water head and just allowed the other two to spray their bodies from the side with a a gush of water. "You look great in black", he said then.

"Yes, like you in white." Maxim grinned. Christian's soapy palms glided over his buttocks, making his erect cock jerk.

"Do you think I'm too fast?" Christian whispered into his ear. "I mean quick?"

"What you're talking about?"

"Being a good lover."

Maxim opened his eyes when Christian's finger slipped into his hole

and circled around, going deeper. "What do you mean with fast? You aren't fast..." he moaned now. His fingers found Christian's cock and started to stroke it.

"Too slow?" Christian suggested then, inserting another finger.

"Hell no! Let's get out of this into bed."

But Christian stopped him. He showered Maxim's body with kisses, tasted soap and water and kissed his way down into his pubic hair and the hard shaft. "How many lovers did you have?" he asked

indistinctly.

The water rushed in Maxim's ear and so he didn't answer.

Abruptly Christian turned off the water, opened the glass door and fished for a towel. Maxim shivered due to the sudden coldness, and Christian carefully wiped away the water. "Why have you stopped?"

"You said I should stop."

"When?"

Christian grinned, took Maxim and swung him easily over his shoulder as if he were as light as a bunch of balloons; then he let him fall into the bed and jumped beside him. "Now how many?"

"How many what?" Maxim was already busy with Christian's somewhat flattened penis. He tickled him under the balls. "Lovers?"

Christian nodded.

"Hm, more than necessary. Why do you want to know." He bent over his navel and licked the remained wetness. Then he followed

the blond, thin trail of hairs down until Christian let out a heartfelt sigh. "What about you? How many?"

"Two. Philipp and ... the guy before."

"Not more? Just two?" Maxim asked disbelieving, lifting his head, his mouth lost Christian's penis. A thin, silky thread connected his lips with the tip of his penis. "I'm number three?"

"The others were not important."

"Ah, yes. Well, that's your kind of calculation. There must be many more then, right?" Maxim devoted himself again to the glands, shoving the foreskin back and forth with his tongue.

Christian giggled. "I just remembered Tim's story. The last one of his novel, you know." His voice was laboured and drawling. Maxim didn't answer. He kissed now Christian's thighs, over the pale scars, down and up, back to the fork.

"Carsten, the rabbit", Christian continued chortling. "He needed twenty minutes to show his whole repertoire."

"I remember", Maxim mumbled. He stopped his licking and kisses and crawled higher to face Christian. "Of course I'm a much better lover, aren't I?" He winked and grinned impudently.

"Sure you are." On his forehead appeared tiny drops of sweat. He didn't want to talk while Maxim loved it while having sex. Christian had become used to it though: all the little dirty talk... and Maxim was so adorable while doing this.

"What do you think of it actually?" he asked now. "think about to force someone being in love with you without giving him a chance."

"Could you put that gorgeous cock of yours where it belong?" Christian asked instead of an answer.

Maxim chuckled. "Answer me first."

"If it's for the other's best... perhaps I'd agree. Don't you take advantage from my love to you?"

"In what case?"

"Well, feel being loved."

"Right. And you won't do it just for yourself? Because it satisfies your selfishness?" Maxim stared inquiringly into his eyes, demanding answer.

Christian wriggled for impatience. "I want only your best", he muttered then.

"Good. Then you'll go with me to "Made in Heaven"? I've promised Dario."

"One night you'll fall in love with another if you continue going out."

Maxim, about to lift Christian's leg, stopped and looked surprised into Christian's reserved face. "That's a joke, isn't it." He crawled even higher to face him. "Don't you trust me?"

"What's the use for trust? There're plenty of good looking guys just waiting to get into your pants."

"Are there? I haven't noticed. And besides, if you don't stop talking me into this it could easily happen." Maxim's voice sounded cross. His erection was gone and so was Christian's. His heart pounded painfully. "Does this mean you won't come with me?"

"It means you shouldn't go."

They stared into each others eyes. After a while Christian blinked and looked away. Low he said "I don't want to lose you."

"If you don't want to lose somebody you should live alone." Maxim took Christian's chin and turned his head to him. "I have never given you reason for suspicion. Our relationship is young. You act as if we would celebrate our golden wedding anniversary tomorrow. I've been in love with you longer than you can imagine. Why should I destroy my dream? You're all I want." His eyes were intensive. "But you never know what will happen. Life is strange, feelings are unreliable. Who's to say YOU won't fall for another man? And yet I live with you without thinking about what bad might happen. You would agree to Sascha's wish, wouldn't you. Making me your own for eternity."

"There's nothing wrong with this wish."

Maxim glared at him. His facial expression was unreadable. "You haven't finished Tim's story, right? Read until the end and tell me if you'd still agree." He rolled down from Christian's body and lay beside him. His mistrust hurt him.

Nobody said a word until Maxim felt that Christian had fallen asleep. A few minutes later he heard silent noises and a weight next to him. Coco had come and cuddled to his side. Maxim turned, dug his fingers

into the white, warm fur and pressed the cat tightly to his body. He was thankful for his consolation.

"After this memorable night Carsten started to follow Sascha like a puppy. Not that Sascha would have noticed. But the pair became to the most favourite gossip among their colleagues. Guys he had picked up before felt now personally insulted because Carsten didn't deign a look at them. Or they felt embarrassed because of the visible affection Sascha enjoyed wherever they were seen together. Who was this nondescript guy actually? They examined him like an insect, astonished to find a new population of it: nondescript but sexy and wild enough to hold Carsten's constant interest so that he didn't see nor realize anything that was outside Sascha's world.

Today - sitting at the table, surrounded by bunches of roses sent by

Carsten - Sascha was wiser. He had realized the meaning of this dangerous wish. How often does it happen in reality that a fairytale came true? He remembered her green-golden eyes and her hesitation to fulfill his wish. He remembered her willpower tugging at his mind, but despite this he had insisted. Carsten had had no chance.

In real life, he would never have noticed Sascha. Perhaps he would have been able to get Carsten into his bed for one night, to realize that Carsten was a washout in bed and to congratulate himself that he wasn't his boyfriend.

Sascha took a blossom and plucked the petals one after the other like a child playing 'he loves me - he loves me not - he loves me...'

Well, Carsten hadn't remained a washout in bed. He was an attentive and fast learning pupil, careful to please Sascha. They did everything together, never separated for a minute. Not that Sascha hadn't enjoyed it... Carsten's devotion was like a wonder and remained so for several month. Carsten started to be interested in classic music and spent more time in Sascha's department in the basement of the bookshop than usual.

Three months later Carsten's devotion had become obsession.

Sascha couldn't make step without being jealously observed. They were isolated from all of their friends - but it needed a while before Sascha realized. It was one of the rare Saturday nights they've spent in a dance club and were surrounded by Carsten's ex-one-night-stands, by ex-lovers and short-time boyfriends.

It felt good to be the object of envious attention. He could afford to laugh about remarks like that: if he had prepared to say good-bye to Carsten; if he had prepared to be cheated on by him; how he would take Carsten's intolerably boasts, and how he would feel about the unimportance of his own appearance while Carsten was the shiny star and sex-show off among the gay community.

Sascha laughed into their faces - sure that he never could lose Carsten's love because they were bound to each other by a fairy spell.

Carsten started to change. Once interested in everything: clothes, going out, books and arts now he stayed home feeling that Sascha was the only thing he needed. After four months Sascha felt constricted; after five he panted for air because he felt strangled by a silken band Carsten called love."

Christian tossed away Tim's manuscript. When had he written it? How could he analyze his problems so well? What gave Tim the idea to write down this story, that had so much similarity to his own? He had to be careful and pull himself together, before Maxim could draw a parallel. 'A silken band Carsten called love'. Pah. Love was love - and everything done out of love was good. Wasn't it.

Christian swung his legs out of bed and sat there, arms protected on his knees. He had never had a boyfriend like Maxim: independent, self-confident, knowing his own value. He hadn't thought that he could love somebody like that, but he did. He wasn't sure if he wanted to break Maxim's willpower. No, actually he didn't want it. But there were situations he couldn't control the old nagging voices and it made him sick. He hated to leave Maxim alone in Phil's clutches. God knows what they were talking about. Not about Christian's sexual preferences as Maxim had promised they were not talking about. And if they did, Christian didn't bother. But what if Philipp tells him about his demand for exclusiveness?

He heard music from the living room and followed the sound. Maxim sat at the piano with only his briefs on, absorbed in a melody. Christian sneaked behind him and kneaded his shoulders. "I'm sorry about last night", he said into Maxim's ear.

Maxim didn't stop playing. 'Have you finished Tim's story?' He asked back.

"Not yet."

Maxim looked over his shoulder. "Why not?"

"I need to go. Lots of work waiting for me."

Maxim stopped playing and turned around on his stool. "I'm sorry too about last night. I don't want to pressure you. We have different opinions about this story, but all I ask you is to finish it and tell me afterwards if you still agree that to dispose your will to somebody else is a good thing. Even if you do it out of love."

Maxim felt this was about more than just a story. It was about Christian's concept of life. About how a relationship should work.

He saw Christian nodding, then his face going blank. Something what he had said had triggered a memory. It was as if clouds were rushing over his face. Over his eyes. They darkened and he felt Christian's grip painfully strong around his shoulders.

• His mother had said she would feel alone tonight in the large bed. Daddy was on his business trips again. He didn't see him too often nowadays. And if he thought about it... he didn't miss him. He had everything he needed. His brother and his mother. But his mother was more important. He watched with interest the blue pills she shook out of a roll of tablets. He was quite familiar with them because in unwatched moments he had taken them out to count them - he could count till 100 because he had learnt it in school recently - to built patterns with them or to lick at them to see how they would taste. Melted in water they were bitter but he swallowed because his mother did the same. It was cosy in her bed when he cuddled into her arms... forgetting his body weight, forgetting to think, forgetting to breathe, just listening to her voice piercing his ears stuffed with a woollen obstacle until he heard no more. *

"Christian?" Something smacked his cheeks. "Christian!? Wake up!"

• Cold water splashed into his face. Hands softly smacked his cheeks. He couldn't open his eyes. His lids fluttered like butterfly wings caught in a spider's net. His arms wind milled to scare away the ghosts who wanted him to stop from diving into sweet nothing. *

"Have you dreamt?" Someone was shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes and focused them at Maxim. He tried his usual grin, but it came over somewhat strained. The next minute his mind was clear again. He wiped over his forehead. "I'm ok, honey. It was just a memory."

Maxim stared into his face. "What memory? Was it something I said?"

The power his mother had. The love with that she suffocated him. But he shook his head. "I'm still somewhat.... perhaps I've caught a flu." Christian came to his feet.

"You better stay home then." Maxim followed him, but Christian shook his head. "No time for being ill. Come, I'm hungry." He took Maxim's hand and dragged him into the kitchen.

Maxim wasn't calmed but he said nothing. He just watched him warily, but Christian seemed to be his old self. He reacted particularly careless, although the clouds in his eyes hadn't vanished completely. Was this the reason for Chris' reluctance when they met after his break up with Philipp? Or was Philipp the cause of all this? Sometimes Christian appeared as a multiple personality. As if two or more souls would reside within him.

Christian sensed his inquiring stare and tried to smile. It was only a shadow of his old self. Maxim had Coco on his lap and fed him soaked toast. "You have to drive to the house or will you work in your office?" he asked.

"I'll stay in. Sonja and I working at the interior design. Shall I pick you up from work?"

"If you like."

It was a hot August day. The asphalt seemed to melt under his feet when he crossed the street and the air whirred despite the morning

hour. After two years living in Berlin Maxim still wasn't used to the summer's suffocating stifling heat. He could count the days on one hand when the sky was of a flawless deep blue and breathing was easy - usually when the wind came from the East. From Poland and

Russia. Perhaps he should save his money to buy a little car. With an air-condition of course.

Finally he was about to open the entrance door to the bookshop when he heard from behind a car's door close. A moment

later Philipp appeared at his side carrying a large package. "Morning!", he cheered. "Cake for all at the first day." He pointed

to the package.

Maxim tried a smile. "You robbed a bakery."

"Right." Philipp followed Maxim. Both breathed in the cool air streaming through the rooms. Wolfgang was already there, smiling at the new colleague. "Welcome, Philipp" he said, shaking his hand. "To a good getting along together."

Maxim though couldn't help feeling depressed. He couldn't quite say why he was depressed but it was as if a constant nagging pain had moved within his stomach. What had he expected living with Christian? He then thought about how long he has been in love with him and how long it has been since Christian had filled all of his conscious moments, his day- and wet dreams. His dreams had come true and now? Maxim couldn't say his love had grown - had become stronger than it was before.

Christian was not a disappointment, no, he wasn't. He was intelligent, caring, attentive, loving, generous and sexy. What could Maxim ask for more? Perhaps that piece of a puzzle lacking in the picture he had made himself of Chris. Well, Maxim wasn't a fanatic of the truth; he didn't need to know everything. But he wished Christian would unveil his secrets. To Maxim it would be a proof of trust. But doesn't everybody have the right to have secrets? Although... somehow Maxim had the feeling that this secret did no good for Chris, remembering his almost passing out this morning when he had been overwhelmed with memories.

Maxim stood forlorn at one of the large window sites and stared at Wolfgang and Philipp, making the tour through the rooms and the diverse departments when he caught Tim's questioning look from his brown-amber eyes. It was again one of those hungry looks making Maxim's body tingling all over . He seemed as if Tim had lost weight again which seemed to be stressed with his tight fitting white jeans and the blue t-shirt he had stuffed into them.

Maxim remembered his body warmth when he had woken up next to him on a morning ages ago. How good he had felt and how perfectly he had fit into his arms. Wait! Had he laid in Maxim's arms? Or had they been spooned together? Anyhow, by all means he remembered Coco's obvious affection he refused to give Christian. Had his cat such a fine instinct that he knew better what was good for Maxim and what was not?

Tim put his hands into his pockets and sauntered up to him. "You don't look too happy" he said. "Problems?"

"Nothing that should bother you." Maxim said rudely and regretted his tone instantly. But he would the hell do and not tell him about Christian.

"Sorry, Tim", he said. "I don't have problems. I'm just tired."

Nadine came rushing through the door and filled the room with her usual cheerful presence. She waved through the window at Tom who

stepped into his car and vanished. Then she detected Tim and Maxim. "Ah, my two love birds. How are you?" She hadn't given up the hope

both might end as a couple.

Tim grinned, Maxim was stern. Sensing there was something in the air, she clapped their shoulders and vanished in the coffee corner.

During the afternoon Maxim watched Tim and Philipp putting their heads together. Phil was drawing a sketch on a sheet of paper and Maxim drew curiously nearer. He was offered a piece of cake and took it. "I think we can separate the German from the foreign authors. It would be easier. What about setting up a corner with our favourite books, what do you think?" He looked at Maxim.

Maxim nodded. "Not a bad idea. Staff's recommendations."

"What are you reading right now?"

"The story of Erika and Klaus Mann. Very good."

"That's a start." Philipp said delighted.

"Have you spoken with Wolfgang about this?"

"Sure. We just have to figure out what's best." Philipp went to the large shelves. "You see, here we can part them." His fingers slid over the backs of the books. "How many exemplars do you order from each book? Let's say from this?" He lifted the cover of Warren's "The Frontrunner". "It's cult. So there should be more of them."

Maxim laughed. "Ok, smartass. There ARE several of this, either in those large drawers beneath the shelves or in the magazine."

"We could make a changing display of either criminals or love stories and the newest illustrated books and biographies." Philipp waved with Rimbaud and Wilde. "What about promoting Marilyn, the first gay boygroup?" He giggled.

"Gosh", Tim said. "I can do without them."

"Right", Philipp laughed. "WE're a better looking boygroup. Look at us. What do you think, Nadine?"

Nadine looked them up and down and said seriously. "Cute enough to

eat right away. Better than your cake."

"Tell the baker."

Later Maxim watched Phil talking to customers, interviewing them about wishes and suggestions. His enthusiasm was touching. Wolfgang was pleased and said he would bring fresh wind to beaten tracks although Phil was just a temporary substitute for Luan who would return after being four weeks in Vietnam. It certainly would be better to stop Philipp's excitement before he got too involved.

Wolfgang felt a little regret. Philipp seemed to be overflowing with ideas. He wanted to re decorate the walls with more posters and witty accessories. Wolfgang didn't regret a second to have engaged him. Tim was fire and flame and Maxim watched him with sort of a hurt heart.

Hadn't Phil said both weren't in love with each other? This view told

him a different story. A little longer and both would have sex on the orange carpet. Both bubbled over with enthusiasm and Maxim sensed a twinge of jealousy. Perhaps they would fall in love with each other the longer they would work together. Although there still were those unreadable looks Tim was giving him...

"What's the matter with you today?" He heard Nadine's low voice. She could change her habit very quickly, from an uninhibited, joyful woman to the caring friend he needed. He turned to her.

"I'm just irritated."

"Is it about Christian? The old photo you told me about?"

"Well, sort of. I think he's haunted by memories he wouldn't tell me. And he said I shouldn't go play piano anymore."

"Why?"

"Because I could meet another man."

Nadine was silent. "It means he's in love with you." But she certainly sensed that there was more meaning behind. Otherwise Maxim wouldn't be concerned.

"He loves me, he says", Maxim corrected her.

"And this it is what you longed for. Are you disappointed with him?"

"No", he said quickly and he meant it. "Not disappointed. I'm just concerned."

"But what about exactly? You told me before he's pretty much possessive. Does it scare you?" She looked into his eyes, searching for the truth. "I know a little about obsessive men. If you meet a man and give him the little finger he'll take the whole hand. A friendly smile and in a second he thinks it's not just politeness but a sign of being in love with him." She grinned a little. "At least that's my experience with heteros." She winked. "Apparently that's all the same. Man is man." She paused a second and came even closer. Her arm brushed his. "But that's not the point, is it. I want to say that if you said you're in love with this man he takes you for his own and has the exclusive rights once and for all time. It just depends on what happens when you fall out of love, or perhaps in love with another. Or if the closeness has become so close that you feel panic."

Again she searched his eyes. "Will you go piano playing? Having a relationship doesn't mean you give up yourself. If he loves you he must give you room. It's the balance of closeness and absence."

Maxim nodded. "I told him but he doesn't listen. He really thinks I'll fall in love with another when he's not with me all the time. Well," he breathed out and grinned now. "I'll take it as sign of love. He's crazy for me." He winked. "Let's see what exciting ideas Philipp produces."

Nadine's eyes followed him questioning. She wasn't convinced at all. Seen from her experiences men could act very possessive and jealous. And in the end it was difficult to get rid of them. But then, as long as Maxim loved this man it was better she held her tongue.

At a lonely moment Philipp whispered to Tim, "I'll meet Gregor later. Want to come with me?"

Tim pondered a moment. Was this the moment to make allies against Maxim and Christian? He felt bad actually. He didn't want to poke his nose in. He didn't want a dirty game that would separate them. On the other hand, listening to Gregor's tales couldn't do harm. Finally he nodded.

"Don't tell Maxim please." Phil said then. "He seems depressed today. Perhaps it doesn't work the way Chris wants it to work." Perhaps it had started already, he thought.

"Sascha was lost when he saw him. His new colleague's name was Denis. He said his father came from Ghana and his mother was German. Sascha admired his milk coffee brown skin and the big, wet brown eyes not forgetting his gentle being, plus Denis loved music like Sascha did and he had a piano at home.

Carsten suffered when Sascha raved on about Denis, but he didn't say a word. He just tried to bind his partner with all his love he had to give, but Sascha's time with Carsten seemed to be over. How easy it happened, Sascha thought, laying next to the snoring Carsten. There had been a time when Carsten had filled all of his conscious minutes; all of his wet dreams. There never was room for another. And now - having had the thing Sascha wanted the most: sleeping with Carsten - it was over. Like a candle burned at both ends it was burnt out. Vanished. Never existed. Well, to be honest, he still liked Carsten. As friend. As a stable rock amidst the sea. He could absolutely rely on him. There was nothing that Carsten wouldn't do for him. But it had a price.

One day Carsten found both sitting at the piano in the basement of the bookshop, engaged in a kiss. Somehow he managed to look at this like from outside. His brain took in the picture, a pair sitting close together at the same piano-stool in a tight embrace that wasn't possible to be closer. Like having sex. Almost sex... although their hands were searching and Sascha's hand played with Denis' black, straightened curls, falling down his back.

Something deep within Carsten died that moment.

On silent feet he vanished up the stairs and lay sleepless in bed when Sascha didn't come home. It was no use to take a sleeping tablet, for they never worked. He searched the flat for some alcohol and found the California wine, Sascha was so mad about. He opened it and poured the thick flooding, red wine into a glass. Had there been another time when Carsten had been the centre of attention at all gay hangouts? He couldn't remember. Somehow everything that was before he fell in love with Sascha was blocked with a blue dust. Was is ok to laugh about feelings of endless love? Like his self-called ex-lovers and one-night-stands had done when he had told them he had found true love and would never ever fuck with another? Their laughter still shrilled in his ears.

He crossed the flat. It was tidy now, as Sascha liked it. He had read all of Sascha's favourite books. He listened to Vivaldi, Puccini and Brahms. He had accompanied him to a concert with music of Rimsky Korsakov. Perhaps he should try to get tickets for Wagner's Ring at Bayreuth. Sascha loved Wagner and Carsten would gladly sit for him through a seven-hours-performance. Unfortunately it was impossible to get tickets when you weren't the chancellor or a minister or some sort of V.I.P.

The dark red Zinfandel tasted really good, like berries and oak. It left a taste for more on his tongue when the bottle was empty. Carsten's eyes were glazed. He would NOT accept that he had lost his lover. He loved him and Sascha had to accept and respect his feelings. How could Sascha dare to hurt him? And how could he force Sascha to love him back like he did in the old days? Above all, now that he had fallen in love with another?

Denis made Sascha realize that he and Carsten hadn't much in common, and after some time Sascha had forgotten why he had ever been so mad about him. To Denis on the other hand he could tell everything. Sascha was torn between everything. Being at home there was Carsten, spoiling him with dinners by candlelight. He spent all his money giving Sascha expensive gifts. And Sascha felt so guilty that he had made Carsten fall in love with a fairy spell. But there was light at the end of the tunnel: It was just two months until he would meet the godmother again and tell her it was a mistake. She would free Carsten, and he would being whatever he had been: a horny, shallow fellow and king of the community.

Being at work and in his spare time he was with Denis, the sensitive, foreign man coming from an exotic country. Sascha wanted to be free and Carsten clung. Carsten threatened, he begged. He made a fool of himself."

Christian left the manuscript and went straight down into his office. He tried hard not to smash his computer from pure anger. Tim as author analysed his feelings like a surgeon would had done. There had to be more behind his façade than Tim's appearance gave away. How amazing. To Christian it seemed as if Tim sat amidst a self woven net, waiting like a fat spider until Maxim would fly into the centre of it where he would get stuck and die. He wouldn't allow this. Never.

"Joost and Rainer send their greetings", Phil said when it was time to close the bookshop. "They would be pleased if you'd visit them once in a while."

"Oh", Maxim was glad to hear this. "Tell them greetings from me too."

Philipp nodded. "They chat constantly about new wardrobes for Joost's performances once they had made friends with Tim's parents and their costume rental, Joost pose for me and I have to give my opinion", he laughed. "Geez, if I was still with Chris, he would flip." The rest of what he wanted to say he crunched between his teeth. He looked away through the door and sucked in the air harshly. Christian parked his motorbike at the curb, taking off his helmet.

Philipp still thought that Chris was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen... He was a figure of light, fair and unearthly with his light blue jeans, the sneakers and the white, short-sleeved shirt. He appeared as fresh as an ice flower.

And he had a black soul.

Tim bumped with him from behind. "What's the traffic jam about?" he asked, opened the door and stared right away into Christian's face. He paled. Chris though took no notice of them. He pulled Maxim close and planted kisses upon his mouth, as if he had to demonstrate something. His eyes though were pure splinters of ice. He gave Philipp and Tim a baleful look, said a short and cold hello to them and put the second helmet over Maxim's head. Then he dragged him to his bike as if he would flee.

Maxim sensed his anger like a cold shower on this hot afternoon. Christian didn't leave Maxim enough time to say his good bye. The motorbike made a jump when he started, the pedal forced.

Maxim clutched his body from behind. At the same time he felt the urge to scream. Not for anger but for pure joy of life. And because the roar between his legs was something like sex. He wished he could sense the wind in his hair. Speaking was impossible, so he entrusted himself onto Christian's broad back.

They whizzed along the Ku'Damm, passed the golden angel of the victory column, along the dusty green of the Tiergarten, a park, exactly in the centre of the town.

Christian slowed down and the machine came to a standstill. He took off his helmet and turned to Maxim. Smells like burning charcoal, acrid smoke and grease dripping into fire, stung their noses: Turkish families roasting mutton on the lawn. Christian curled up his nose. Despite all he took Maxim's hand and started to walk with him through the forest. Many small paths winding secretly through it and vanishing into nothing. Some leading to hidden gay meeting points at dawn.

Christian and Maxim hadn't spoken a word. They smelled the scent of the soft ground. Birds twittered and gathered up for a night's rest on their sleeping-trees. After a while it became darker under the trees. "Had a good day?" Christian asked finally. "First day with Phil? Did he hit on you?"

Christian said it casually, but Maxim heard a certain tense in his voice. "Nope, but Tim."

"Tim made a pass at you?" Christian's fingers clamped around Maxim's hand.

"Forget it", Maxim said. "Nobody made passes at anybody."

Christian didn't believe him. If someone was so clever to write down such a story, he was clever enough to steal Maxim from Christian. "Phil's after each man", he stated. "He needs a lot of sex. He cheated on me with my own brother", he added bitterly.

Maxim pressed his hand. But he couldn't be mad with Philipp. Not before he had heard both versions, and Phil didn't speak about it. Why should he anyway. "Now I quote you: let the past be", Maxim said. "I don't want to hear how bad Phil was. I like him." He felt Christian go rigid next to him, but still he walked on. A blackbird rustled in the underwood next to him. She hopped upon the way and started to rant.

"Let's go back. It's even hotter here."

They returned silently. Maxim didn't need long until he noticed Chris wasn't driving home, but down south to the lake districts. He let it happen. He didn't even ask him if he had finished Tim's novel. Right now he was tired of another fight. Perhaps some day Christian would understand the underlying message this story carried. Especially for both of them. Funny, if Maxim didn't know better, he would think Tim had written it for him alone: A bookshop, a piano, a heart-wish that came true.

He sniffed water. A pair of swans paddled majestically near the shore. Tiny waves lapped at the sandy shore and to both sides the view was hidden by cane. Christian leaned the motorbike at the trunk of a tree, opened the boot of the bike and conjured up a woollen blanket, wrapped packages and a bottle of wine. The sun sunk at the opposite to this place and threw a red golden path over the grey-green water. At the shore it was translucent; Maxim saw the sand, a few pebbles and branches from a tree that had died off, standing in the water.

When he was surprised, he didn't let Christian know, but a warm feeling washed over him. Without thinking he stripped off his shoes and the shirt and took place upon the blanket, facing the orange ball of the sun. "What a nice idea" he said then low.

Christian smiled. He opened the bottle and took two paper cups. "Sorry, no glasses. Difficult to carry when I'm with the bike." Maxim didn't mind. He would have drunk from the bottle if necessary. Heartily he bit into a sandwich and washed it away with wine.

There was no sound, except the sleepy twittering of birds and the soft dying wind in the reed. The waves gurgled softly. No other human, no motorboat, no any other animal disturbed this peaceful place. A swarm of dayflies danced in the golden light. Maxim laid at his side, chewing his sandwich and holding out the cup for more wine. Christian sat by his side, facing the sun. His skin gave a rosy reflection and his hair was pure silver.

"Prinz Knecht" was mainly a leather bar. Tim didn't feel exactly comfortable with the leather dressed older guys. Some were bearded like a Hell's Angel, wearing silver chains around hips, necks and wrists. They seem to examine all the young, fresh and innocent appearing boys. Country music blared from the music boxes and the chairs and bar stools were covered with patched cow-leather. Since he wasn't molested

• except by some lecherous stares - he relaxed by and by. Philipp didn't seem to mind anyway. But then a finger poked Philipp's shoulder. Looking up he recognized his neighbour Erik in leather trousers and - waistcoat and a New York's police cap upon his head. His feet stuck in boots. He grinned shamelessly.

"You're keen on leather? Philipp asked once he had caught his breath

again.

"Always have." Erik sat down and stared at Tim. "Your boyfriend?" His small, blue eyes undressed Tim. "Would you lend him?"

"Jesus, Erik, you're disgusting", Philipp said angrily. "Shove off and fuck a cow."

Erik raised his brows. "My god, you're sensitive today." He blew Tim a kiss and left the table. At the same moment Gregor entered the bar. Since Philipp had seen him last, he had lost some pounds of weight, Philipp noticed. "You look great", he greeted him and Gregor grinned.

Questioning his baby-blue eyes looked at Tim and recognized him as the author of "Made in Heaven".

"He's my friend", Philipp explained. "We've made an alliance against Christian." His voice lowered conspiratorially.

"Alliance? Against Chris? How's that?"

"We want to free Maxim from his clutches."

Gregor stared alternating between him and Tim. He needed to wipe away the sweat from his forehead. Slowly he said then, "you're joking. If I've

learned anything, it is not to interfere with relationships" he said coolly. "I've learnt to have respect for the feelings of others. You can't go and tell Maxim - that's his name, right? - that Christian is a psycho and it's dangerous to love him. After all Chris could have changed. And anyway, if Maxim loves him the way he is, there's nothing what you can do."

"Good lawyer's speech", Philipp said. Tim meanwhile had realized only

two words: "psycho" and "dangerous". Suddenly he feared for Maxim.

"I'll get a beer", Philipp rose and went over to the bar. Gregor turned to Tim and searched his face. "What's the reason?"

"Reason?" Tim croaked.

"You're in love with Maxim? Then you're equal with Chris. Selfishness

is a bad adviser when you're in love. If you like Maxim then leave him in

peace. Only he's to decide whom he loves and want to live with."

Three glasses of beer were places upon the table. The white foam looked invitingly in the steamed up glasses. Tim took one and drank thirstily.

"Now, you lawyer!" Phil started. "What does your defending speech

mean?" The last time I remember you weren't that brash. Christian was close."

Gregor did not look very amused. Surely Phil was right. He still wasn't free from feeling fear when Christian was near. He still was shy with other men. But his study of law had been good for his brain and his self- consciousness. Law was giving him strength. It was something that was stable and reliable.

"You're right", he said then. "I still fear Christian and with good reasons." He drank from his beer and looked at Tim. "I've enjoyed your book very much. Congratulations. Does it sell well?"

Tim nodded. "Thanks. It's great to hear you liked it."

"He'll make a fortune soon", Philipp threw in, but Gregor asked single- minded "The last story, has it any refer to reality? To Christian for instance?"

"The story was finished before I met Christian."

"You mean "Killing me softly"," Phil said. "Sascha made a guy endlessly

in love with himself."

Gregor and Tim nodded unison. "But that's not what I mean", Gregor stated. "It's about what happened after Sascha fell in love with another."

"Carsten got mad."

"In a subtle way", Tim added.

"Yes, he wasn't threatened with a knife", Gregor agreed, "but instead

became a very unhappy man. It has alarming similarity to Chris."

Unexpectedly someone laid his hands upon Tim's shoulder and pressed

his head against a groin from behind. A head was bent over his own and a pair of disgusting wet lips sucked at his neck. Tim gasped and bumped back his head. The attacker jumped away and wiped his abdomen.

"Erik, you arsehole, piss off", Philipp shouted at him. Erik grinned and went away. Annoyed Tim wiped his neck. "Let's get out of this", he said, "we go to Mamma Angela."

Outside they breathed fresh air. They passed the bar "Memory" and the dance club "Tabasco", both still closed. Men started to gather for their daily clubbing routine. In front of the Trattoria small tables and chairs were occupied, but all three went through the restaurant into the garden terrace. Tim plopped happily into a chair, the others next to him. It was still warm, but the sinking sun gave some relief from its merciless heat. Pino brought them three Berliner Weisse and they sipped at the woodruff- green, refreshing drink.

"Now it's your turn", Philipp said to Gregor. "What are you afraid of?"

"Will you pass this to Maxim?" Gregor asked. "If yes, I'm not sure if I should tell you. What if we deprive Chris of the last chance to be happy?

I don't want to take revenge."

Philipp and Tim changed looks, then they examined Gregor with interest. "We won't tell him. He wouldn't listen anyway. The more you talk something down the more you're interested, isn't it so?"

"Right" Gregor sighed. "I'll tell you in a nutshell. Christian is obsessed with possession. He can't be alone and needs somebody he can care fore. Too much of a protection-instinct, or something like a protection-syndrome. This means, it goes nasty when his beloved one doesn't want his care and tries to free himself. Christian accused me of having other boyfriends - note the plural.

He watched me where ever I went. He alleged, instead of going to university that I spent my time in gay bars. When I came home a minute

too late it was hell. He drove his motorbike against a tree when I told him our relationship was over. I gave in, seeing his damages. He swallowed sleeping pills when I renewed my decision to go. The third time he ripped off my clothes and raped me."

Gregor cleared his throat.

It was dead silence at the table. The low chatter of pairs surrounding them was faded out in their minds. "I fought with him and broke a bottle over his head. That's where he got his scar from."

He looked at Philipp. "He bled a lot although it was just a gash. It was sewed in a hospital. I stood with him for I felt so guilty about it. I always thought it's a sign of big love he felt for me. He loves me so much that he takes every risk to keep me." He met Tim's dismayed eyes. "The final event was that he pushed me while I was packing my things after I decided I couldn't go on. I fell at the rim of the fire side and broke my skull. This was the end." He raised his hands when the others started to talk all together. "Please, don't get me wrong. I don't want a revenge as I told you."

"But how can you talk so calm about all this?" Phil almost cried out.

"I began therapy and and by now I have talked about it many times. I'm done with it." Gregor hesitated. "Albeit... when I saw him at your reading it all came back to me so I'm probably I'm not over it as much as I want." He emptied his glass. "Christian was in therapy as well. I haven't seen him since. That was five years ago surely Christian must have changed. Therefore I don't want to screw up his chance to start new with a relationship."

Philipp glared at him. "That's nonsense, Gregor." I was your successor

I suppose. And I can tell you, he hasn't changed. At least not that much."

Gregor looked dismayed. "Hasn't he?"

"No. He was charming at first. I got everything from him I wanted. I had the best sex ever, but he wanted a price."

Gregor nodded.

"It was my time, my brain, my body, my whole being. He consumed

me." Philipp's face reddened. "He mistrusted me, spied after me, controlled and ruled my life. When I said I'd leave him, he tried to rape me."

Tim clutched his glass so tightly that it threatened to break. Then he put a hand on Philipp's shoulder and pressed it. "I didn't know." He whispered. "Why haven't you told me?"

Philipp ignored him. "Gregor's right. There's still a chance that he has changed. At least he never attempted suicide while he was with me. But the violence he was able to... it scared me and I'll never forget it."

"It's worse when he drinks", Gregor said.

"He never drinks much."

"With good reason."

What are we doing now?"

"Watch both?" Tim suggested.

"What else can we do", Phil sighed. "I've told him I'll be there for him whenever he needs a friendly ear."

"That's a start."

Tim said nothing. He had to digest all this. As far as he could see it, Maxim was in danger. He didn't want him to be hurt, not physically,

not mentally.

"Do you think he's on bondage to him?"

Gregor and Philipp looked at him, then at each other. Both saw agreement in their eyes. "We have been I'd say", Phil answered. "Too long."

"But I can't imagine Maxim's someone on bondage. He's too independent."

"Perhaps he can cure him then. If they discuss it."

"You can't discuss with an ill man. Jealousy is a serious illness. I don't know if it's curable." Gregor leaned forward. "Please watch him, yes? And keep me informed."

Everybody was following their own thoughts for a while. "It's his birthday Saturday", Tim said suddenly. "You think we can celebrate

together?"

Gregor fixed him a look. The way he spoke about Maxim was pretty traitorous.

"If you speculate of having a big party, forget it." Phil said. "Chris would not only want to have him, but have him for his very own."

Gregor nodded.

Maxim gave a loud gasp when the water crashed onto his head. It was pitch dark, just the silvery light of the moon's sickle gave the innumerable, tiny waves around himself a splinter of a silver mirror. How long has it been since he bathed naked in a stream or lake? Above all with such a lovely company... He felt embraced. Floating water staunched his movements like an exquisite band, binding his limbs. Suddenly a feeling appeared in the corner of his mind. Chris' mother, taking off all of her clothes. Standing motionless at a shore, overlooking the water. Cold. Invitingly cold. Maxim spat out water that had flooded into his mouth. Like into her mouth. But she hadn't spat it out. She breathed it.

"Your mother", he started close to Christian's ear. "It must be terrible to drown."

"I'll hold you, don't worry", Christian murmured back. He looked irritated at Maxim. Then he remembered. Yes, his mother drowned in a lake. At least he said so. Martin said so. And his father. He felt the avalanche of pictures rolling over his head. Like tiny sharp cries scratching at his mind, they plunged into his dreams, pushing before his inner eye: the night, when his mother had prepared him to die with her, because he had always been her favourite son. Martin had felt left out. Or he didn't care. As long as he had his twin, it didn't bother him what happened to his mother, or to both their parents in general. But Christian knew it all.

Christian held Maxim very tight. The water was cool and washed away sweat and guilt. Maxim stroked hair out of his eyes.

He still saw the shiny knife in his mother's hand. A kitchen's knife with which she attacked his father. A knife in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other hand. A minute later a picture of a vomiting woman appeared, bent over the bath tub. Stench.

Maxim's lips were cool and soothed his troubled mind. His mother wasn't keen on living. Neither was he. She wanted to die. He took revenge for leaving him alone.

Without warning he took Maxim and ran with him out of the water. They fell onto the blanket and warmed their cold bodies with sex. At least this was the only thing Christian was sure of, he was perfect at, and he was able to take it as substitute.

"Don't leave me", he whispered. "I panic when I'm alone."

Maxim heard it but didn't grasp the meaning. He was too wrapped into Christian's smooth body, his appearance, his hands that were all over that nothing seemed to count that very moment. Not even a confession.

"Your birthday", Christian said later, when the semen on his bodies had dried by the gentle blowing, warm wind. "I thought about something special."

"This here was special enough", Maxim said sleepily at his shoulder.

"Just you and me."

"I usually go to my parents. And/or invite friends."

"Now you have me."

Maxim rolled onto his stomach. His eyes scanned Christian from his eyes

over the mouth to the collarbone's scars. And a little down further over the chest with the nipples - stiff from feeling cold - the valley between the ribs to the navel and the long scar below where he had lost his spleen. "It was you who said you're afraid of being alone." Maxim said softly. "Are you sure you don't mix something up here?" He outlined Christian's body, drew patterns and followed each line. Chris' breathing quickened, but still he said nothing. There was a whirl building deep within him, that wanted to be out. His stomach tightened. "I just thought it could be great. Just you and me. I have something for you." His eyes didn't plead. "But if your friends are more important than I am ..."

That was enough to manipulate Maxim. He thought. But Maxim lifted his upper body. Half laughing he said "Oh no, Chris, don't do that. There's no ranking, and I will the hell do and match you with my friends or colleagues or family. Why don't we put everything together and everybody will be satisfied, hm?"

Maxim's words had certainly persuasive logic, but still he was disappointed. Why does everybody have to stop him from doing wonderful things? But before the anger could blow away his reason Maxim showered him with kisses and Christian enjoyed them. Perhaps his new lover was able to heal him. He certainly had a very soothing air.

No... a certainly exciting air. He giggled and rolled with Maxim upon the blanket.