The Knife That Twists Within

Marcus in the kitchen wondered briefly what he could get him to eat. Some of the goose that Sebastian had given him? But it was certainly too late to eat such rich meat, Nicholas wouldn't be able to sleep afterwards.

He opened the door to the pantry and saw the sliced bread. He tried to spread cold and hard butter straight from the fridge with the result that the bread tore. He cursed and then laughed at himself. Then he saw the remains of some cold roast beef and put it on the bread. A little horse-radish and it would be ok. He uncorked the bottle of wine and sniffed the bouquet. Then he carried everything into the living room.

Suddenly the bathroom was filled with the clear and transparent sound of music. Startled Nicholas looked round and located two loudspeakers standing on two shelves in a corner. He heard the gentle and tender voice of George Michael, and found himself relaxing again.

'When you find a love when you know that it exists then the lover that you miss will come to you on those cold, cold nights when you've been loved when you know it holds such bliss then the lover that you kissed will comfort you when there's no hope in sight.'

He remembered Marcus' kisses, the smell of his body which matched the scent rising from the warm water...The song was over and another started but Nicholas decided to get out of the tub. He found he was suddenly yearning for Marcus' presence. He wanted to speak to him, to hear his voice, to look into his dark eyes and wanted to feel his warm hands again... Quickly he dried himself with one of those wonderful soft towels and put on his clothes again, ignoring the robe hanging on a hook.

'If I was weak, forgive me but I was terrified you brushed my eyes with angels wings, full of love the kind that makes devils cry...'

George Michael accompanied him downstairs to the living room which was softly lit by some candles standing on the sideboard and the table, reflecting in the glasses full of blood-red wine.

By their side stood plates with sandwiches and peeled oranges. Marcus stoked up the coals in the fireplace and Nicholas felt an jolt to his heart. All this for him? Nobody ever did this for him.

Marcus stood up and turned to Nicholas. "Why did you put on your clothes?" He smiled. "Come here. Sit down beside me."

He lifted the wine glass. "I know you didn't like the wine at the restaurant the last time but try this one."

Nicholas took a little sip and tasted it on his tongue. It had a taste of age, a final faint sweetness and velvet mixed with the strength coming from an vintage oak barrel.

"It tastes marvelous, Marcus."

Marcus smiled. "Sebastian knew you would like it."

"He knows I'm here? You talked about me?" He frowned.

"Hey," Marcus touched him under the chin. "Why shouldn't we?"

"So you no doubt discussed the poor, stupid boy you picked up in the street, right?"

"You have a remarkable talent of putting off everyone who likes you. Why do you do it? Why can't you simply accept the fact that I like you for the person you are? I don't care who you are and where you are from, how much money you have or haven't. Completely the opposite, Nick. I'm the one who's distrustful and suspicious and should ask you: why are you with me? Do you enjoy my company because I'm rich?"

Marcus held the plate with the sandwiches in front of Nicholas, who grabbed one and bit.

'but the scar on your face that beautiful face of yours in your heart there's a trace of someone before'

Nicholas' hand trembled. Marcus took the sandwich from him and pulled him close to him.

"Have a little faith, sweetheart. You are safe here and I trust that you aren't just here because you like the painting with the yellow and blue blocks so much."

Nicholas had to laugh. Indeed he felt safe in Marcus' arms. He picked up his glass and drank the red liquid.

"When can I change the sketch of you into a real painting?"

"Whenever you want, baby." He took a slice of orange and fed it into Nicholas' mouth. "But you are always so quiet. Talk to me. You can tell me all the things that are roving around in your mind. I'm interested in hearing what you think, what you feel and what you know. What about your friend, Matthias?"

Nicholas swallowed. "Matthias? What about him? He's probably at a cool Christmas Party in one of his favourite clubs. He's keen on Techno Music. And he hates Christmas."

"Techno Music?" Marcus grimaced. "Whoever called that stuff music? And why does he hate Christmas?"

"Thinks it's sentimental crap."

Marcus nodded slowly and shoved another slice of orange into Nicholas' mouth.

"Now, can we go upstairs?" he asked, chewing.

"Just a second. Only one thing. I'll be back soon." He touched Nicholas' lips. "Don't move."

Nicholas watched him go. Then he stood up, stepped to the painting over the round marquetry table and pondered over which painting should be hanging there instead of this one. He had thought about what Marcus had told him of the way beauty rubbed together and afterwards realised that he agreed with him. But there could be other colours.

Then he looked at another picture and sipped slowly from his glass. It showed a young Greek warrior with a shiny helmet, spear, shield and metal greaves. A loosely hanging short chlamys over one shoulder revealed more than it hid.

Marcus wrapped his arms around him from behind and nibbled his earlobes. His hands slipped under his pullover and pulled out his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. Nicholas felt warm fingers roaming over his body and playing with his nipples. He pushed back lightly.

"Now, what are your plans for tonight?"

Nicholas put his hand over Marcus', turned around, gave him a deep look and dragged Marcus with him upstairs to the bedroom. There he stood and began to undress Marcus. Little by little the shirt was removed, the jeans and underwear. He pulled Marcus onto the still disheveled bed, grabbed one foot and began to massage it. Marcus giggled.

"Oh no, stop it. I'm very ticklish there."

But Nicholas didn't stop. Lightly he kneaded the falls of his foot and began to suck on the toes. A low moan escaped from Marcus' throat. Nicholas grinned at him, then crawled higher, flickered his tongue over the erect penis and nibbled lightly on the shaft. Marcus pulled him higher and tried to undress him but Nicholas was faster. In no time he was naked and stretched over Marcus' body to kiss him on the mouth, the eyes, the neck.

Marcus felt dizzy. What was this young man doing to him? He had thought it would be difficult to seduce him after everything Nicholas had told him, but no, it was the opposite. Marcus wasn't sure what to do.

"Baby," he whispered, "what do you want me to do? I don't know..."

"Sh, make love to me." Nicholas' eyes were fixed on him. Marcus broke the gaze, wriggled from under Nicholas' body and now lay on top of him.

He wanted to ask so many questions, but then he decided to shut his mouth and to do what his heart was telling him. He snaked down, leaving a trace of saliva on the body under him, kissing, tasting, rubbing, stroking. His tongue glided below the balls, along the trail which led to his hole and heard Nicholas moaning. Slowly he spread his legs apart but suddenly felt a resistance. Immediately he stopped and looked up. A look of fear flashed across Nicholas' face.

"It's OK, baby. I won't do anything you don't want me to. I promise."

"I want you to go on. It was only..."

"Sh, I know."

Nicholas opened his legs and revealed his hole. Marcus pushed his hands under Nicholas' buttocks and lifted them a little, then he dived into the dark sweetness.

At the first touch of his tongue, Nicholas tensed a bit, but suddenly was seized by a tickling pleasure he had never felt before. He lay there, under the midnight blue blankets and sheets and enjoyed the feeling that Marcus' mouth and warm tongue produced. He glided over the hole, sometimes quickening, then slowing down, light as a feather, alternating with a whole tongue washing and then trying to push deeper into the hole and Nicholas approached almost his climax.

Marcus nibbled now at the join between balls and shaft and Nicholas felt a moistened finger gliding into his hole. It slid in without any pain or resistance. Marcus licked the flooding pre-cum from the tip of his penis and crawled higher.

He removed his finger, reached for the nightstand and grabbed a jar of Vaseline, opened it and greased his fingers. Then he net down to kiss Nicholas' nose.

"Are you sure you want me to continue?"

"Hmmmm." Nicholas purred. "Don't stop."

Marcus inserted two fingers into his hole and watched the face of the young man but couldn't see any sign of discomfort or disapproval, so he went on to stretch the flesh, continuing to suck lightly on his penis and to roll his balls in his mouth. Nicholas moaned louder.

"Come into me," he heard him whisper harshly. "Come into me."

Marcus put his lips to Nicholas' ear. "If it hurts too much, I'll stop. Do you hear?"

Nicholas shook his head. "Come." But as he felt his legs lifted and sensed the thick head of Marcus' penis pushing carefully against his hole, he tensed again.

Marcus leaned over his body to his ear. "Relax your muscles, honey. Just relax. Relax." Nicholas stared into Marcus' almost black eyes.

"Close your eyes, baby. I won't hurt you," he repeated again and again until Nicholas felt growing pressure and suddenly a lingering pleasure. Marcus didn't move any more. He was inside Nicholas as far as he could go.

Nicholas wriggled. "Don't stop. Come deeper."

Marcus snorted. "I'm already inside. Can't you feel it?"

Nicholas opened his eyes wide. Where was the pain he should be feeling? Marcus' cock almost split his body but it didn't hurt. Only a slight unpleasantness, but this vanished with every second. He smiled. "You are a magician, Marcus."

"Am I?" He bent over to kiss him on the lips, then his tongue slid into Nicholas' mouth and he began to move his hips lowly. Long, smooth strokes which pushed both men up on a staircase to heaven. They lost all feeling of time, of their surroundings. They were almost deaf and blind. The only thing Marcus could see was the pleasure on Nicholas's face and feel how the muscles of his anus clamped around his cock at every stroke he made. He heard, as if from a far distance, the loud moans of two voices and one of the two had to be his own...

Later he went down on his knees and played with Nicholas' cock and let his own slide freely in and out, increasing the pace until he exploded and got hit at the same time in the face with the first spurt of Nicholas' white semen, the rest landing on his chest and stomach.

With a long, deep moan, Nicholas lowered his legs but with his calves he pressed against Marcus' buttocks trying to get him in deeper. Marcus lay on top of him, outstretched and powerless.

"Have you ever had such an orgasm?" Nicholas whispered huskily.

"Never."

Both men lay and listened to their heartbeats gradually becoming regular. Marcus had buried his face in the cleft of Nicholas' shoulder and asked himself if it had ever been so pleasurable lying in someone's arms. Not even with Sebastian he had felt the same. Sebastian made an art-lesson of every encounter, but what they had just done had been pure sex, no, he corrected himself, making love. He couldn't analyse his feelings; the happiness Nicholas must now be feeling was transferred to his own soul.

He lifted his body and his cock slipped out. He looked into the sweating and flushed face next to him.

"What have you done to me?"

Nicholas smiled. He lifted his head and met his lips. Then he pulled Marcus to him, cuddled close to him, stroked his chest, outlined with his long, slender fingers the contours of Marcus' body.

Marcus' hands stroked his back and felt cum dribbling from his crack. He searched for a handkerchief and wiped it tenderly. He didn't quite know what to think. Nicholas was like a child, trusting, a little naive, but such a turn-on, so sensitive, so intelligent. But what now? How could he explain that a life with Marcus Weidenbruch was a lonely life? How could he advise that he should go back to the Academy to learn more. And how could he keep him from the clutches of his friends, who were doubtless very keen to get their hands on Nicholas' fresh body and innocent face? Marcus sighed heavily. Oh, baby, you have a lot to learn from me. He felt the heavy, sleeping head lying at the bend of his neck and collarbone.

"But I can't let you go," he whispered to the dreaming Nicholas. "I won't."

When you find a love --------------------

Nicholas groped for Marcus but his fingers couldn't find him on the other side of the bed. It was cold and empty. He opened his eyes and blinked several times.

A bleak light seeped through the closed curtains. Nicholas sat up and looked around. It was as if he was seeing the room for the first time. It was exactly that, yesterday and the day before he had wasted no time looking at the room.

He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he heard steps on the staircase, the door swung open and Marcus entered with a big tray. He was wearing a robe and was freshly shaven. He set the tray down on the bed. Nicholas smelled freshly-brewed coffee, slightly burnt bacon and toast.

"Morning, sleepy head," Marcus said cheerfully.

"Where have you been. I don't like waking up alone."

Marcus watched in silence the young man sitting naked and sulking amidst the rumpled blankets.

"How often do you wake up with a man? By the way, I said "Good morning"."

He sat down, pulled Nicholas' chin closer and kissed him on the lips. "You don't like to wake up alone and I don't like to have breakfast in bed. So we are quits."

Nicholas began to smile. "But normally I don't have breakfast."

"You're beautiful when you smile," murmured Marcus, "but rather too thin, so I shall force you to eat something. What would you like? Scrambled eggs? Toast, bread, rolls? Sausage? Marmalade? You ate yesterday and didn't complain."

"You don't like my body?"

"Jesus, Nicholas. Why do you twist every word from my mouth? You are a tease, honey! Will you always be like this?" He looked the lad up and down, from the half erect penis to the long strands of old-gold hair hanging over his eyes.

He stretched out his hand. "Stay exactly as you are. It's a marvellous sight." He spread butter on a slice of toast, shoved it into Nicholas' mouth and gave him a plate full of scrambled egg. "I don't know if they are as good as yours yesterday, but I tried my best."

Both men ate for a while until Marcus asked, "Actually how are you feeling?"

"Great."

Marcus gazed deeply into Nicholas' eyes. "Great is not enough."

"Not enough? What do you want to hear?"

"How do you feel after your first night with a man?" He paused for a second. "This was your first night with a man, wasn't it?"

Nicholas nodded and drank some coffee.

"But there were other men or boys certainly before me . . . and him?"

Nicholas nodded again. "I'm feeling very well. Really, Marcus. I never thought . . . I never felt . . ."

"Hush. It's OK. I know what you want to say." Marcus grinned. He put the last piece of toast into his mouth, bent over and kissed Nicholas again. "Will you spend the rest of the holiday with me?"

"May I?"

"I wouldn't ask you otherwise."

"Great."

Marcus stood up and drew the curtains back. It was snowing slightly. The light fell upon some paintings hanging on the walls which Nicholas hadn't noticed before. One of them showed a young man with brown hair and a mischievous grin. He was standing against a background of Ancient Rome, stone mosaics covered the bath, pillars and marble floor. He was naked and only held a big towel in front of him. On the fourth wall opposite the window hung another one. Nicholas screwed up his eyes in recognition. He knew the enchanting smile, the look from those grey-green eyes and the sandy locks hanging down to his naked shoulders.

"Sebastian!"

Marcus turned to face the painting. "Yes. Sebastian."

Nicholas stood in front of it. "I've never noticed it before, even though I slept here for two nights."

"You were otherwise occupied," giggled Marcus watching Nicholas' arse cheeks and the subtle muscles of his back. He went across to him, wrapped his arms around him and played with his still half erect penis. It jumped literally in his palm. "Wow, I didn't know he turned you on that much."

"Is this your work?"

Marcus pressed his cheek against Nicholas'.

"Yes," he whispered, still stroking the silky skin.

"Wonderful."

"What? The painting or the man?"

"Both."

Nicholas looked at the naked upper torso which he could just see was covered in fine, fair hairs. He gazed at the thin lines made by the paint brush and followed their trace down to where it was lost in the waistband of Sebastian's jeans. The model's eyes were focused somewhere outside the painting and it gave him a rather dreamy expression which seemed in a way foreign to the man. The light fell at a tilted angle on his face so that one half was almost in darkness and emphasised the downward tilt of his strong nose. Nicholas had a liking for strong noses; it made the face full of strength and passion.

Nicholas felt Marcus' fingers stroking his cock, gliding lightly over the head and under it. He shivered and turned to kiss Marcus' ear.

"Did you sleep together yesterday?" he whispered.

He felt Marcus shake his head. Then he placed his hands on Nicholas' shoulders and looked at him seriously.

"No. We were never lovers as you would understand it. We love each other, yes that's true. I have no other words to explain it. We have known each other since childhood. And when we were making love then it was the expression of our friendship. Sebastian is pretty exhausting. For him everything is fun. And it's fun making love to him, I can tell you." He grinned. "But only fun."

Nicholas returned his grin and dragged him to the bed where he fell with him next to the tray. Butter, marmalade and the empty jug fell over.

"Oh shit!" Marcus shouted, "what a mess!"

He picked up the opened jar of marmalade and smeared some of it around Nicholas' nipple, then he crawled up on him and licked it off. The belt of his robe opened to reveal his erect cock. His fingers found a spot of the spilled marmalade on the blanket and he dropped it on Nicholas' balls. His tongue glided beneath the shaft, licked it clean and he heard Nicholas purring like a cat. Then he lifted his head and asked himself when he had last had so much fun. He pulled off his robe, stretched himself upon Nicholas' body, pressed his penis into Nicholas' crotch and rubbed them together.

"Who is the other man?" panted Nicholas between kisses, "but I'm dirty, Marcus, I only just awoke as you came up."

"Who cares? I don't. You taste good."

Nicholas lifted his legs and wrapped them around Marcus' waist. "Who is it? One of your lovers?"

"Yes." He heard Marcus' low murmur.

"My predecessor?"

"Stop asking, baby. I'll tell you later." Nicholas wriggled in his arms and groped for the softened butter which he smeared upon Marcus' cock. "I can't see why you don't like having breakfast in bed. It's very useful." Nicholas giggled.

"Jeez, two nights in my bed and you become a complete slut," said Marcus, but he grabbed a blob of butter and worked it gently into Nicholas' anus.

A half an hour later they lay close together, half asleep. Nicholas had never felt so happy in his entire life. All his problems had disappeared in one night. He lay on his side and felt Marcus' warm body behind him. He had wrapped his arms round him and his breath touched the skin of his shoulder and neck. He opened his eyes to see the oil painting of the young man. He could barely be older than him.

"Marcus, are you sleeping?"

"Hmmm."

"Who is that young man in the painting?"

Marcus stroked his hips, along his thighs and let his hand wander inside and over his limp penis. "He's gone."

"Why?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I want to know everything about you."

"It's boring to know everything, honey."

Nicholas freed himself from the embrace and turned around. "Please."

The pain in the young man's eyes was almost gone. Marcus noticed the long black eyelashes shadowing his eyes which made them darker than they actually were.

"I think he's beautiful. Why did you lose him? Besides, do you paint all your lovers?"

"You are beautiful to me, my heart."

Nicholas blushed slightly.

"Did you think I only had two lovers?" Marcus asked. He kissed the tip of Nicholas' nose. "Do you know that your hair has a golden shimmer?"

"My hair? No."

"Yes. When the light falls on it at a certain angle, it shines like gold."

Nicholas ran his fingers through it. "It's much too long. I need to go to a barber."

"You don't have to. I could do it for you."

"Is there anything you can't do?"

"Yes," said Marcus laughing. "I can't cook."

"Well, your scrambled eggs weren't that bad."

Marcus grinned. "Now, what are your plans for today?"

"Finish the painting of you. It's still only a sketch."

Marcus gave him a slap on his buttocks. "Then, what are you waiting for?"

His watch told him it was ten to twelve and he waited impatiently for his replacement. Fifteen minutes later Nicholas stepped out of the lift and went to the canteen. He wasn't very hungry, but anxious to meet Matthias and to tell him everything that had happened over the past few days. He passed the crowded counters with pieces of cake, puddings and fresh fruit, and the counters where the cooks waited to serve the ordered dishes. From the smell it seemed like fish and roast pork, cheese souflee and potatoes.

Matthias raised an arm and seconds later Nicholas sat down in the chair opposite. Matthias gave him a broad smile and chewed on a piece of souflee.

"Good to see you again. Aren't you eating anything? The bake is good. Here have my apple." He passed him te fruit. Nicholas took it and rubbed it on his sweatshirt. "How are you, mate? How was the holiday?" asked Nicholas and bit into the apple.

"Man, I'm dying to know how YOUR holiday was. Tell me first!"

Nicholas grinned into the glistening grey-blue eyes. "Everything you can imagine."

Matthias wrinkled his nose. "Really? Everything?"

"Everything!"

Matthias grinned without shame. "Congratulations. When are you getting married?"

Nicholas laughed. "Straight away if I could. Now, seriously, he is wonderful but it's a bit scary to see his house and the antique furniture. It all looks so precious but he doesn't care about it. He says they are just things to make life more pleasurable. I'll have to get use to it first." he said.

"And?" insisted Matthias. "What about the hot nights?"

Nicholas blushed slightly.

"Hotter than you can imagine," he whispered. Matthias giggled and put his head closer to Nicholas.

"You mean, really and truly a heavy love affair?"

Nicholas smelled the savoury smell coming from Matthias' lunch. His appetite was aroused.

"Heavy. Can I have a bite?"

Matthias picked up a piece with his fork and hold it out under Nicholas' nose. He took it and chewed. "Not bad."

"Go and get yourself one, I'll wait."

After Nicholas' return with a steaming portion of cheese bake Matthias asked, "What about Frank and your fears? Did he succeed in making you forget them?"

Nicholas swallowed down his first bite and nodded.

"Yes," he said indistinctly between chewing. "He could make me forget everything, even the arsehole Frank."

Matthias looked happy at this statement. "I'm glad for you, buddy, really glad." His voice trailed off and Nicholas was alarmed.

"Something wrong with you?" He stared at the young man eating in silence. His brows frowned above his nose.

"Hey, come on. Tell me?"

"Well, it's nothing really. I had a quarrel with Tina at the Christmas Party in the club."

"Quarrel? And you never quarrelled before, right?"

"Yeah, there's always a first time, I guess. She hasn't spoken to me for some days."

"So? It must be pretty difficult to live in one flat and not to speak to each other."

"It is, Nick, it is."

"But what was it about?"

Matthias took his time to answer. Then he said, "The party was good, you know, the music and all..."

Nicholas was impatient. "And?"

"I wanted to make it even better."

Nicholas face was a question mark.

"In what better?"

"Well, you can make it better ... tablets you know..."

Nicholas stopped chewing. "Tablets? You mean Ecstasy?" He chewed again. "Ever tried it before?"

Matthias shook his head. "I thought it couldn't do any harm, everybody takes it, so I bought two. One for me and one for her. But she didn't want to try and made a scene. I couldn't understand why. It's harmless, only a bit of fun and after some hours it's all forgotten. But she went on and on about drugs and addicts and that she hated it and she would hate me if I took such trash.... and so on."

Nicholas said nothing. Matthias looked up.

"Have you ever tried it?"

"No. I couldn't think of a reason why I should want to."

"Geez, now you start the same babbling. What's wrong with it?"

Nicholas thought for a moment. "I have heard it could be dangerous in certain circumstances. Some people had died after taking the pills."

"Yes, but it only happens because they forget the time and that they have to drink and to eat or get over excited and the circulation collapses."

"Right. And what if you too forget the time and drinking and eating? Do you think it only happens to other people and not to you?"

Matthias threw him a sinister glance. "I thought I could speak to you about it."

Nicholas dropped his fork and grabbed Matthias arm. "But you can. You have always listened to me when I had problems. Now it's my turn. It is only my opinion and maybe I'm wrong, ok?"

He stared insistently on his friend and repeated, "Ok?"

Matthias returned the look. "Yes."

Nicholas gave a sigh of relief and picked up his fork again. "So you tried it? What was it like?"

"Great! At first place nothing happend but after a little while I felt light and easy and thought I could do anything." He lowered his voice, "And I thought I could fuck forever."

Nicholas grinned. "Fuck forever, eh? And Tina?"

"She had gone home."

Nicholas couldn't quite understand why Tina was so upset. Matthias felt well obviously and nothing bad was happend. "And now?"

"Everything is all right again I guess." His face lit up. "Hey, what are you doing on New Years Evening? Want to come with us to a party?"

Nicholas frowned. "With that awful techno music? I hate it, you know."

"Come on, they won't only be playing techno. You'll enjoy it, or has your Marcus planned something special for both of you?"

"We haven't talked about it yet. I don't know. I'll tell you tomorrow, ok?"

"All right then." He put his knife and fork down on the table. "I'd like to know this Marcus, too. Must be exciting to have so much money that you don't have to work all day and can do anything you like."

"But of course he has to work. He travels around the world, almost. But I guess it's only for fun, he doesn't have to do it if he doesn't want to", he admitted. He paused for a second. "There's something else. He want me to quit my job and go back to the academy. What do you think?"

Matthias looked a moment at his friend in disbelief. "Go back to the academy? Do you want to?"

Nicholas nodded.

"What if you meet Frank again?"

"There are other teachers than Frank, and then, what if I do? I'm done with him. He can't hurt me any more."

Matthias looked thoughtful.

"Well, if you really want to, then do it! But I'll be really sad not to have you around anymore. I hope you won't forget me, will you. Does Marcus want to pay for everything?"

"Yes. But I'm not really comfortable about this."

"I can imagine. I wouldn't be either."

When Nicholas unlocked to his small, single-room flat, he threw his mail onto the old sideboard which stood in the little floor. He skimmed through the letters and advertisements and found nothing interesting. Behind the curtain which partitioned off the room, he looked for and found his rucksack. He stuffed all the clothes he could find, dirty or not.

In the living room, which was also his bedroom, he stood for a moment and looked around. "Too fucking depressing," he muttered.

The paper on the wall was scarcely visible, all the spare space being covered by his paintings. There were sketches of the faces of old people, hands, shoulders, forearms and muscled thighs. Watercolour paintings of a castle, of the neo-Baroque dome in the centre of the city, impressions of the river which cut through the town, with deserted bridges and a pair of lonely swans.

Nicholas removed the pins from the drawings and lifted the framed ones from the walls. He laid then all together in a pile, took his small suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and put everything in.

From the desk by the window he picked up all the pens, pencils, brushes and paintboxes and put them into his suitcase as well. Then he looked out of the window down to a square court where children would have been playing if only the weather had been better and the echoes of their high-pitched voices would have come through the window at all hours. Many nights he hadn't been able to get any sleep when drunks came home from their pub tours, bawling, shouting and puking. The police were well-known guests in these street. Above his flat an unemployed man trampled with his heavy boots on his nerves because he suffered from insomnia and stunned himself with watching porno-films, so that Nicholas could hear the lustful moanings of female voices through the thin walls.

He closed his eyes for a moment and turned to the tiny bathroom where there was only just room for a shower and grabbed his razor. Above the sink he looked into his eyes in the mirror.

"How long?" he asked himself, "how long will it last until Marcus gets tired of me?" He blinked. How could all this be happening? Which angel had guided their feet at that particular day to that particular place so that they met? To release him from all the crap he lived in... And even if it did not work out with him and Marcus, he - Nicholas - would never be the same person again. He had looked too deeply into a different world and he felt he was not doomed to spend his future life in this dark cave of a flat, in these uncongenial surroundings. There would have to be a better place...

Nicholas wiped his palm over his face and tried to smile. The books! He rushed to the living room again and put all the important books into the suitcase too. Now it was pretty heavy. He switched off the light and threw a last glance around. Maybe we will see it again sooner than I want to...

He slammed the door behind him.

One hour later Marcus opened the door and took the heavy suitcase.

"What's in it, stones?"

He carried it into the living room, sat it down, turned and pulled Nicholas to his chest. "I've missed you, honey."

Nicholas felt his warm lips on his own and kissed back. All his doubts, his frustrations fell away from him.

"Welcome home," he heard Marcus' voice near his ear. "Have you given your notice?"

Nicholas stepped back a little and looked into Marcus waiting eyes.

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"I have to be sure you really want me to stay. Do you trust me?"

Marcus looked puzzled.

"Trust? How do you mean? You think I could believe you are only here to enjoy my riches and not me?" He shook his head. "Of course I think you are here to enjoy the material things I can offer, I know that honey, otherwise you weren't so adamant in your refusal to let me accompany you home. You didn't want me to see your flat, right?"

He pushed Nicholas gently to the couch and sat beside him. "I want you to enjoy the house and I'll gladly share it with you. Now, will you give your notice tomorrow?"

Nicholas nodded.

"So what have you brought with you in this heavy suitcase? Or do you want to unpack it in private?"

"Books, paintings and clothes, no secrets."

The phone rang. Marcus stood up to answer it, while Nicholas began to open his rucksack.

"Alex, I didn't want you to call me. When will you understand me, finally?"

Startled Nicholas let fall one of his boots. Marcus voice was coldly expressionless. He had never heard him talk with like that before.

"I have no time for you and your problems at the moment. Sorry."

Nicholas still stared at Marcus' back. He could tell from his body language that he was upset. He watched how he threw the receiver back on to the rest and turned to Nicholas. His face was flushed but after some seconds his expression became relaxed again.

"Was that Alex again?"

Marcus looked at the scattered clothes lying on the carpet, ignoring his question. He thought for a moment and then said, "What do you say to us going out shopping tomorrow?"

"Shopping?" It suddenly dawned on Nicholas what he meant. He looked at his old pullovers, shirts and boots and sighed quietly.

"Ok. When I get back from work." He looked up. "You don't like these old clothes, right? Well, I don't like them either."

Marcus knelt beside him and gently lifted his chin. "Will you do me a favour and let me pay for them?"

Nicholas smiled hesitantly. "Do I have a choice?"

"You know it doesn't mean any harm, don't you."

"Yes." He gathered all his clothes and threw them back into the rucksack.

Marcus took the paintings and framed one, sat down on the carpet and looked at them. "That's the rest of them, is it?"

He seemed to be highly interested in the drawings of the parts of the body and tapped one of it. "Those are your hands, honey. I recognize them." He grinned at the young lad. "Have I ever told you I love your hands?"

Nicholas grinned back. "On the first day we met."

Marcus bent over and kissed his lips. "Have you anything planned for New Years Eve?"

"Hm, Matthias invited me."

"Ah, some hot techno party, eh?"

"I hope not. He says there are playing other sorts of music, too."

"So you want to go?"

"If you have something better to offer then I won't."

Marcus sighed. "Afraid not. Commitments. Do you remember my calendar?"

"Oh, yes. The party at the 'Four Seasons'. I guess that's not for me."

Marcus nodded. "Ok, but you have to promise me to come back here after the party."

"Where else should I go?"

"Maybe you'll find some hot guy and fall in love with him instantly."

Nicholas snorted and gave him a playful punch in the ribs, then he pushed Marcus on his back and flung himself on top of him,

"You monster, you want to get rid off me, right?"

Marcus laughed. "Alright, I confess. I wanted to marry you off to someone else!"

"WHAT?" shouted Nicholas joking. "Is that what you want?"

"I want to seduce you. Will you go upstairs with me?"

"No." Nicholas pulled out Marcus shirt from his jeans and began to kiss the soft, warm skin of his belly. He nibbled cautiously at his nipples which produced a little moan of pleasure from Marcus' throat.

"I've already said I give up!" he panted, "don't torture me."

"Torture?" Nicholas lifted his head, "torture?" he repeated. Slowly he unfastened Marcus' belt and button and pulled down the zipper. Marcus lifted his backside so that Nicholas could pull down his jeans and with them his black pants in one movement.

"The torture hasn't begun yet, honey", he whispered, bent his head and planted little kisses on the limp penis before his eyes until he reached the crown and began to suck on it.

"Oh, Jesus", Marcus dug his fingers into Nicholas' hair.

Nicholas chuckled with his mouth full. He felt how Marcus' cock expanded and began to lift himself until it laid across his belly.

"How could you ever suppose I could fall in love with another man?" Nicholas murmured while his hands roamed over Marcus' thighs and his lips kissed his balls. "I'm in love with YOU."

Marcus raised himself, propped up on his elbows and watched the tip of his penis vanish into the young lad's mouth. He gently stroked the strands of hair from Nicholas' eyes.

"Kiss me," he whispered. Nicholas let the penis fall and crawled higher until he reached Marcus' face. He bent his head down until he was only a few millimeter away from the moist and red lips. Abruptly he jumped up, grabbed the hands of the confused Marcus, pulled him to his feet, turned and vanished with a boyish giggling up the staircase. Marcus wanted to follow but stumbled over his jeans round his ankles and cursed. "What a lad!" he muttered.

"Wait, I'm coming!" he shouted.

Marcus listened to Nicholas' deep and steady breathing. He lay close to him, one leg and arm resting on his own chest and legs. Marcus was tired too but he resisted the urge to sleep. He liked the closeness of the young, warm body beside him and he smelled the scent of Nicholas' hair.

By the soft glow coming from the lamps outside the window he stared at the painting of Simon. He had placed it exactly in this position so that it was often the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning. Simon had only been one year older than Nicholas when he had stepped into his life for ... Marcus counted ... almost two years ago now.

He was the son of a rich client for whom Marcus had brought back precious old vases from the famous porcelain manufactures in Germany or directly from China. Simon had stolen his heart with almost the same speed as now Nicholas had, with one difference: the two young man were absolutely contrasts. Simon was the spoilt, cheeky, charming lad who often reduced him to despair with his hunger for life and entertainment. He wasn't interested in Art in the slightest, but instead brought a light and fire to his life - and he was an indefatigable lover, sensual and affectionate.

In the beginning he had accompanied Marcus on his travels and trips until he got bored with the snooty foreign people who solved all problems with money and then lived a carefree, shallow life where nothing else counted other than the bigger villa, the more expensive car and the most exotic holiday trip.

Someday Simon had stopped travelling with him and stayed here at home. Imperceptibly they had drifted apart, and it had hurt like hell on the occasion when he had came home to find Simon in bed with another man. Perhaps he wouldn't have been so upset if it hadn't been in this bed, but somewhere else. But to see both together, Simon's legs high in the air and the other man pumping into him, made him snap.

Nicholas shifted a bit and murmured unintelligible words in his sleep.

Well, nobody was immune from temptation, after all Marcus himself wasn't a saint. There had been two men which whom he had whiled away his loneliness in London and Paris. He was not married to Simon and now he felt it a little difficult to understand his former extreme reaction. Why had treated he them both so badly? Was it his arrogance that made him believe he was so irresistible?

Marcus lightly stroked Nicholas' back. He didn't wanted to lose him like Simon, but he couldn't change the man he was, like the leopard he could hardly change his spots. He had to do what he had to do, and the same went for Nicholas. What had happened to him? The shy boy had lost all inhibitions when he lay in bed with him; there was a fever burning in his eyes and under his skin, as if Marcus had awakened sleeping wolves. Was it only meant for him - Marcus - or would he, like Simon, find other pleasures in foreign beds or wherever?

Suddenly he sensed that the young man in his arms was awake. The breathing was different and low.

Quietly Marcus said, "You didn't ask me about Alex?"

Surprised Nicholas moved away a little. "Why should I? You wouldn't tell me anyway." He yawned. "You never tell me about your past. The only thing I know is that your parents live in Teneriffe and I know a lot about Sebastian, but you", his voice become louder, he reared up and stared into Marcus' confused eyes, "Who are you? I know your body, but here," he tapped on the chest where he assumed his heart to be, "What happens here?"

Marcus looked hurt and didn't know what to answer.

"You told me, I could look inside a man, do you remember?" Nicholas continued. "What do I see? A tender man who is afraid to love? An abyss of arrogance shaped by birth and upbringing and the fear of being touched by the smell of poverty? You never told me about this Alex. But I know he isn't as rich as you or Sebastian, right? But rather he is poor like me, and you don't want to help him."

Marcus tried to say something, he wanted to stop the harsh, fast words stumbling out of that mouth. But then he gave up the try to interrupt him.

He liked it .... oh yes, he liked it, finally there was someone who made a point.

"OK, he screwed up, but that's no reason to kick him out on to the streets," Nicholas continued.

"He brought shame on me and the name of my family. This may mean nothing to you, but we have lost a great deal."

"No, it means nothing to me, Marcus. At least you could have give him the job in your workshop."

Marcus sighed desperately and his fingers gripped Nicholas' upper arm firmly. "What brought all this on? Calm down, honey, will you? What's happened to you all of a sudden?"

"Happened to me?" Nicholas' voice was low and soft again. "I made a decision, that's all."

"Which decision? To stay with me? To go back to the Academy? To give up your shyness? All of them?"

Marcus stared into his lover's eyes and found them glistening with something he couldn't identify and a small smile flickered across his face. Nicholas was awake. Now he was the man he wanted to be by his side.

Slowly he nodded and felt ... happy. Yes. Happy. He planted a kiss on Nicholas' forhead, stood up and went to the sideboard which he used as a desk. He lifted the cover and opened a tiny drawer. He found what he was searching for and sat down again upon the bed. Nicholas had stuffed his pillow behind his back and now sat upright between the blankets and waited. He looked at the paper Marcus held in his hand. It looked like a letter. He took it from Marcus' outstretched hand and looked questioningly but Marcus didn't said a word. So he pulled out the sheet, covered with scrawled and hurried handwriting and read,

"Dear Marcus,

Thank you for not throwing away this letter. I know you don't want to hear from me again and I'm sorry about it. Did I had a chance to explain? Was there ever anything to explain? It doesn't matter now. Yesterday I got a call from the hospital concerning my last Aids test.

It was positive. So I guess it's better for you to waste no time.

Love Simon"

Nicholas swallowed, stared abruptly and horrified into Marcus' face.

"When was this?" his voice cracking.

"March."

He bent over and took the letter from Nicholas' trembling hand. Marcus' gaze found Simon's painted face. In his imagination the impish grin changed into a thin caricature of a grin; into a face and body which the wings of death had already stroked.

Then he broke the gaze and found Nicholas' eyes. He understood the silent question.

"Clean. I had two tests."

Nicholas cleared his throat. "And where is he?"

"I don't know. I couldn't find him."

"You searched for him?"

"Everywhere."

Marcus dropped his head and buried it in the palms of his hands.

"How?" Nicholas' voice was rough and barely audible. He slid near to Marcus and embraced him from behind. "How did this happen?"

Marcus' shoulders twitched.

"I don't know exactly", he answered hesitantly. "I found him in bed with another man."

"Here?" Marcus nodded. He wiped his face with the back of his hands, looked up and stared into emptiness.

"You mean he could have been infected by this man?"

"Could be, maybe it was another. I don't know what he was doing during my absence."

Nicholas took a deep breath. "You trusted him, right?"

Suddenly Marcus turned to look at the young man. "What is trust?" He looked firmly into Nicholas' eyes. "I never asked him to be faithful. I wasn't either."

Nicholas blinked.

"But to find him here was a dreadful shock, you know. 'What I don't know doesn't upset me. It could be that I realized at that moment how much I ..." He interrupted himself. "I don't know how to explain. How much I loved him? I don't know if I loved him." His voice trailed off.

"And then? You found him and..."

"...threw him out of this house, I didn't want to hear any excuses or explanations, I was too hurt."

Nicholas broke the gaze, stood up and began to dress.

Marcus eyes followed him. "You don't say anything?"

"What shall I say? You have cheated on him, too? Then you have no right to be upset. He did only what you did."

Marcus jumped up. "You mean it was my fault?"

Nicholas put on his shirt. "No, Marcus. I only wanted to say that you don't have to play the judge." He looked at the older man. "Would you be as upset if you found me with another man?"

"Come on, baby, I don't want to quarrel with you." He approached. "Do you want to sleep with another man?"

Nicholas remained silent. "Where have you looked?" he asked finally.

"Every place we were together, every club, restaurant, even his parents don't know anything. But .... that last time I didn't know exactly what he did, and where. You know I'm often away abroad."

"And you didn't take him with you?"

"At first yes. But then he got bored and wanted to stay at home."

Nicholas stopped in front of Simon's painting. His impish grin now had a new meaning. He spun around. "Would you cheat on me? In Paris, New York, London? Do I have to accompany you because I am afraid you could go with another man?" Nicholas swallowed drily. His heart beat loudly in his chest. He felt disappointment and pain.

Marcus went to him. His face was stern. "Shall I swear to you never- ending faithfulness? Nick, the world doesn't work as you want it. It's life and we are products of coincidences, encounters, meetings, perhaps fate. I cannot promise you that I will always love you. I can't promise you I will never hurt you. The same goes for you. I don't expect it from you either."

He stretched out his hand and stroked Nicholas strained face with his fingers.

"You are extraordinary, honey. I've never met anyone like you."

Nicholas flinched.

"I want you to stay. Will you?" Marcus whispered. Then he stepped forward to embrace Nicholas. "You know, I've never stopped searching for him. I don't know how long he was infected, or if his disease has already broken out. If it has, I would do anything I can for him."

Nicholas felt the warmth of Marcus' naked body and dropped his head onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry Marcus. Don't you really have the slightest idea where he could be? Maybe he's gone away, to another town?"

"That's what I thought myself. But someone can't be found if they don't want to be found."

"Did he know that you had also had other men?"

"No."

Nicholas lifted his head, stepped out of the embrace and planted a kiss on Marcus' ear. Then he went through the door downstairs.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm hungry. Aren't you?"

Marcus shook his head and felt suddenly abandoned.

The big kitchen downstairs lacked nothing that a cook's heart could desire. Everything was there, a big fridge, a deep-freezer, dishwasher, microwave. Nicholas searched in the pantry for tinned tomatoes, garlic, onions herbs, olives and opened the tin. He put the tomatoes into a sieve and began to cut the onions into little slices. Then he felt Marcus arm hugging him from behind. "Take care of your fingers, honey."

Nicholas smiled weakly. "You can cook the spaghetti if you want."

Marcus filled a saucepan with water and switched on the gas. After a while Nicholas said, "As we are now into telling your stories, you can continue with the story of Alex, OK?"

He turned to find Marcus standing at the stove and staring into the boiling water. "Hey, now you can put the spaghetti in. Is there salt in the water? Oil?"

"Huh?"

Nicholas laughed. "Salt, oil!"

"Oh, yes. I forgot."

Nicholas watched in silence and continued to cut the black olives into little pieces.

"Will you tell me or not?"

"Yes, I have to."

Marcus took a deep breath. "Alexander worked for me as a buyer of old things people wanted to sell. This time he was offered a brooch which apparently once belonged to Marie Antoinette."

"To whom?"

"Marie Antoinette. The wife of the French king Louis XV."

"Oh, yeah, hasn't that got something to do with the French revolution?"

"Yes. They were guillotined as you know. Well it sometimes happens that some old pieces come onto the market. In the confusion of those days the most precious pieces vanished to obscure places or into the hands of the servants or the common people. If they wanted to sell them it's mostly because they need money. It's now two hundred years ago and I wondered why it had taken so long. Anyway, I was of course most interested in the piece and sent Alex to Paris to inspect it, and, if it was authentic, to buy it. The offer was 78.400 Marks."

"Wow! 78 thousand Marks! That's unbelievable! You'd actually spend that amount of money on an old brooch?"

Marcus laughed. "Baby, I didn't want the thing for myself! Can you imagine me with an old spider shaped brooch?"

"Spider shaped? I don't think I'd like that.."

"Me neither. But it doesn't matter. It's made of pure gold with a big emerald in the middle, shaped like the spider's body, and two little garnet eyes. It's very precious."

"Wouldn't it actually belong to a museum? In Paris for instance?"

"Don't be such a wimp, honey. The museums are stuffed to the ceilings, one piece more or less, who cares? Anyway, Alex went to Paris to the woman who owned the piece. She was a rich Lady, lived in a penthouse and she made a serious impression. She presented Alex with an expert assessment drawn up by an expert of french historical Goldsmiths. Well, Alex had instructions to visit Monsieur Duverell, the expert who had already worked with my parents, but Alex said afterwards that he was on holiday somewhere on the other side of the planet."

Nicholas had finished chopping and now put the onion into a pan and fried them lightly. The tomatoes followed. While he stirred the pan he asked, "So what did he do then? Bought the spider? After all, it did have an expert assessment."

"That's the point. The assessment looked very authentic, just the same as the ones usually drawn up by Monsieur Duverell."

"The piece actually had belonged to Marie Antoinette?"

"Apparently yes."

Nicholas tasted a piece spaghetti. "And?" he asked.

"He bought it and brought it here. The customer, an old client of ours, was happy to have it. However after some weeks I got a little parcel. Inside was the brooch with a disappointed note that the spider was a fake. I mean it was precious to a certain extent, the stones were genuine, but it didn't belong to the French queen; it was a piece of work made this century. Of course he wanted his money back."

"Shit." Nicholas looked at Marcus. "And then you dismissed Alex."

"Yes. There was nothing I could do for him. We lost our reputation."

He sighed. "I cannot understand why he made this mistake. I suppose he felt under pressure, because the woman threatened to sell the piece to another customer. But certainly he shouldn't have acted in this way. At least he could have called me."

He looked insistently at Nicholas. "Do you understand? I lost my belief in him. It wasn't the money."

Nicholas still stirred the sauce, added the garlic, the olives and searched for herbs.

"I understand, Marcus. But now he gives me the impression of being a desperate man. Have you never talked to him about his problems? Has he got a family?"

"Yes. A son. His wife died last year."

"You were never interested in their life?"

"Why should I? Alex earned good money here, it cannot be that bad."

Nicholas tasted the sauce and found it good. He put out two plates and ladeled them with the spaghetti. "Come now, I'm starving," he said then.

"I'm sorry that I'm loading all my troubles onto you." He took Nicholas' hand and planted a wet kiss on the back. It left the tomato-red shape of his lips. Both man grinned.

"You don't have to apologize. I asked for it." Nicholas licked tomato sauce from his lips. "You told me and now they are my problems, too. It's simple enough."

Marcus looked him up and down. "You are willing to share my troubles? Simon would never never said that." He smiled. "Oh, by the way, the spaghetti is delicious! From now on you are the cook!"

Nicholas threw him an odd look.

Marcus laughed, "Don't worry. It was only a joke."

To be continued