Awakening in Ville Valo's arms was more than an experience. His expert hands woke my cock first, drawing me out of the darkness of sleep with the shock of pleasure. I was moaning before I knew that my eyes were open. Bucking against his fist. When consciousness came to me, I stilled his hand and pushed it away. I turned in his arms, wanting to face him, wanting to see him before I came.

He laughed, a deep throaty sound, and pulled me on top of him. Our limbs tangled beneath the sheets. Our engorged cocks slid against each other, as we ground our hips together. I kissed him, hard this time. There was nothing subtle, nothing slow in the way we got off on each other that morning.

I sucked on his nipples, my hands trailing across his thin, muscular body. His own kneaded my ass, forcing our climax closer. Smaller, I was easily maneuvered in his arms, and he shifted me again until we lay side-by-side. He worked his hand between us, coaxed my own to follow, until we were jerking each other and ourselves off, our panting breath mingling between us, warming our already hot skin. I licked his exposed neck, nipping at his Adam's apple. My mouth feeling the vibration as he let out a low, almost eerie moan.

I came first, whispering, "Valo," against his sweaty skin as I shot my seed between us; he followed with a gasp.

And as we lay panting in each other's arms, in the half-dark of the room, the outer door swung open. Ville's body tensed at the sound. Facing Ville, I couldn't see who it was, but I didn't have to wait long to know.

Mige's voice filled the uncomfortable silence, first with a low chuckle, then, "Didn't mean to intrude, but . . ." I felt his eyes burning into my exposed back. "Jussi-Mikko?" He must have thought Ville was with a girl at first, but he couldn't help but recognize me. My build, my hair.

Ville's eyes locked with mine, as he pulled away from me and sat up. The look on his face, his expression said it all; it was like I'd done something horribly wrong. Like I'd betrayed him. I sat up with him, trying to keep the covers from baring all of my nakedness.

Ville turned his glaring eyes toward the door. "Get out! Get out now, Mige!"

I turned to see the bass-player's face. He was holding up his hands, smiling like he'd finally understood some inside joke. "Look, it's none of my business really. I could care less."

"Well, care less somewhere else, will you?" Ville's anger was right on the surface. "Get the fuck out."

"Speaking of getting out, Seppo wants us to be out of the hotel in an hour. That's what I came to tell you." He couldn't seem to wipe the grin from his face. He looked over at me, and nodded. "Juska." Then he winked at Ville and left, shutting the door behind him. For once I would have given anything not to have been the only other person in the room with Ville. The only one he could lash out at.

"Get out." This time the words were directed to me. As quietly as they were spoken, I knew he was still furious at being caught. It would have happened sometime or another. Didn't he realize that? Or did he think we could keep it hidden?

"Didn't you hear me? Go. Jatkaa." He got out of the bed we'd shared all night and turned away from me, walking, naked, to the bathroom. His long, slender body teasing me.

I called to him. His name not more than a whisper, like some prayer on my lips. I was losing him, and I'd never really had him. He'd never been mine to have. I wondered if he'd ever been anyone's.

Ville turned to me, hand catching the doorframe, muscles bunched and tight across his chest and shoulders. "I am not like you!" he shouted at me.

I knew exactly what he was saying, denying in those few words his sexuality. My mouth opened, I started to say something. But what would I have said? I didn't have the chance to find even that out. My hand accidentally brushed against the wetness on the sheets. I felt the tears start to well in my eyes. Jesus, I wasn't a weak little girl. I tried to hold them back, tried to keep him from knowing what he was doing to me. How much I was hurting.

If he knew, he didn't care, or at least didn't show it. "Get your clothes and go." He turned away again, slamming the door between us.

****

We didn't talk again until Bonn, Germany two days later. It was right before our next concert, just as we were about to go on stage. "Cut the intro to 'Join Me'," he said, meeting my eyes for only a second or two, before he passed me to climb the stairs.

I stood there, unmoving. Shocked. The intro to that song had grown from some improvising we'd done together a month or so before. Ville had asked me to sing the first few lines for him, and then replay song's opening notes, letting him take over the vocals. We'd performed it that way since. It'd always been fun for me, because we managed to flirt on stage during that song. It was the only time we had the chance to interact in front of the crowd.

Now . . . it was obvious he wanted none of that, none of me.

Mige was the one who noticed that I wasn't moving toward the stage. "Jussi-Mikko, let's go. Come on," he said, a gentle hand on my back.

When I looked up at his burly form, I wanted nothing more than to lash out at him. He'd ruined it all, everything, by walking in on us. But truly, would that have made me any different than Ville? He had no right blaming me for what had happened, for Mige walking in. And I had no right to blame Mige. Even so, I couldn't bring myself to take a step toward the stairs.

"Juska," he tried again. "He doesn't know what he's doing." Mige smiled, a sincere smile. "Doesn't know what he's missing. He'll come around."

"No," I said truthfully, "I don't think he ever will."

I finally climbed the stage anyway, hiding myself away behind the keyboards. All throughout the show, I did my best to not look Ville's way. Anywhere but at his swaying body, his thin hips and long arms. I didn't always succeed. It was so hard with his voice ringing in my ears. Harder when we played 'Join Me' -- the song that had made us popular.

I played it without the intro, as he'd asked. The notes flowed from my hands as my fingers caressed the keys. The lament now seemed sadder somehow, at least for me.

// Won't you die tonight for love
Baby join me in death
Won't you die
Baby join me in death
Won't you die tonight for love
Baby join me in death

This world is a cruel place
and we're here only to lose
So before life tears us apart
let death bless me with you. . .//

At least when the song was over, I knew the set was nearly done. It really was all I could do to finish playing that night. I dragged myself backstage, knowing I'd see him there. What I didn't know was how much he'd torment me.

While I stood off in the corner, I watched him. He was smiling again this time, just not at me. There were giggly girls backstage. All eager to catch his eye. Stumbling over each other just to be noticed by him, and this time he was paying them every attention. Letting them light his cigarettes, leaning close to them to listen to their prattling, batting his big green eyes in their direction. Not once did he look over to where I stood. And I was sure he didn't see me leave.

****

I returned to the hotel alone, back to the room I shared with Linde. It was early, but I was exhausted. Spent. I fell asleep right away. When I woke, it was sometime in the early morning. Linde was sleeping in the bed a few feet away. He'd left the bathroom light on, so I could easily see his blond dreds spread across the pillow.

The first hint of dawn was still far away, but I couldn't go back to sleep. Still dressed, I wandered down to the quiet lobby. I found myself in the hotel's courtyard. Strangely, I wasn't the only other person out there at this odd hour. Someone else stood inside the small gazebo, a silhouette I easily recognized. The flash of a lighter lit his face for just a second, confirming what I already knew -- Ville.

I wasn't sure what drove me to his side, but I found myself walking up to the gazebo. Like the saying -- a moth drawn to flame. When I reached him, for a long moment, I thought I would have to say something first. My heart was beating so fast, my head swimming -- I was so nervous that I didn't think I could say anything halfway understandable. With him in shadow, I couldn't even guess at what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry for tonight," he finally said, "I shouldn't have made you cut the song."

Was that all he was sorry for? None of the rest? "I didn't miss it," I lied.

"I did." He closed the distance between us, and I was able to see his face by the lamplight of the courtyard. "I missed your voice. Missed watching you while you sang." His hand came to rest on my arm.

I closed my eyes for a second, just to feel that point of contact more clearly. I wanted nothing more than to forgive him, but what he'd done -- thrown me out of his life, that had hurt more than I could have imagined. I stepped back, his touch falling away. "I'd better go."

"No, wait." For my one step, he took two forward. "I'm sorry for the rest, too." He cleared his throat. "Mige and I, we talked. He said some things that made sense. Made me realize that what I was doing to you made no sense. I just--I sometimes . . ." he sighed heavily, his words lost. He looked sad and haggard, like he'd thought about this all night. I wanted to comfort him, to hold him. But for that, I needed to forgive him. A part of me was still so angry, another part so afraid of being hurt again.

"I don't blame you, wouldn't blame you if you wanted nothing more to do with me," he said. "But Juska, you made me feel things--made me want . . . Juska, I want to start over, with us I mean." There was a silence before he said the Finnish word for 'please'. "Kiitos."

My fear lost out to my feelings for him. The contest had been a short one. "Kylla," I said, "yes, I want to start over."

He put his arms around me, an embrace I'd missed so much in just the two days we'd been apart. I felt myself melt against him, my hands clutching at the back of his shirt.

****

He invited me up to his room for what was left of the night. He'd asked for a single again, so we were alone. And like that other night, all we did at first was climb into bed together and sleep for a few hours. For once I slept contentedly. Knowing, at least for the time being, that things were right with us again.

Mid-morning came and found us both aroused. But this time, it was me who began touching him. I slipped the covers lower, exposing his thin chest and lower abdomen. Lifting myself on an elbow, I skimmed my hand over his exposed skin. His green eyes, still heavy with sleep, regarded me. The corners of his lips twitched into a half-smile, and he sighed under my touch.

My fingers traced over the heartagram tattoo, trailing even lower, beneath the covers to take his cock into my hand. He threw his head back, lifted his hips, thrusting himself against my palm. My hand moved up and down his shaft, coaxing him to hardness, his length expanding at my urging.

"Harder," he panted, moaning, writhing.

Instead, I released him and threw the covers back, exposing all of his body and mine to the chill of the room. He gasped, head rising to see what I would do next.

I moved to straddle his legs, dipping my head down, taking his throbbing cock into my mouth.

"Ahhhhh . . . oh, Juska."

I let him slip out of my mouth just so I could look at him. He was wet with a light sheen of sweat, fingers clutching the sheets, eyes half-closed. Beautiful.

"Jussi-Mikko, don't stop," he begged.

I took him back in, licking, teasing, sucking his manhood until he shot out his seed. Swallowing most of it, I let the rest drip off my chin as I lifted my head.

Spent, chest heaving, he still sat up and came to me. Kissed me gently, tasted himself. And with barely the touch of his hand, I came against him, hard. He held me, smoothing my hair, rocking the both of us, spreading my seed against our bellies.

It was some time before we untangled ourselves. Before he rose to take a shower first. Left behind, I wiped myself off with the sheet. I curled on my side and tried to go back to sleep, but I was restless. Finally, I rose and turned on the lights. I sat, naked, on the couch. There on the coffee table was Ville's notebook. His scribbles, he called them. The beginnings of his new songs.

I couldn't resist a look.

//From lashes to ashes
And from lust to dust
In your sweetest torment
I'm lost
And no heaven can help us
Ready, willing and able
To lose it all
For a kiss so fatal
And so warm

Oh it's heartache every moment
From the start till the end
It's heartache every moment
With you
Deeper into our heavenly suffering
Our fragile souls are falling
It's heartache every moment
Baby with you

And we sense the danger
But don't wanna give up
Cause there's no smile of an angel
Without the wrath of god . . .//

I closed Ville's notebook and put it back on the coffee table. I sighed, running my hand through my hair. I had no doubt what this song was about. It couldn't have been any clearer, what he thought about us. About how much joy and sorrow our relationship caused him. Caused the both of us.

And as hopeful as I wanted to be, I had a feeling it'd all end badly. Another one of his songs flashed into my mind then . . .

//Come closer my dear, It's just the beginning of the end.//

Fin.