‹ Prequel: After Midnight
Riding On The Night Train
Memories
The Hotel Zonning was a small, terraced building that overlooked the canal. It also overlooked basic health and safety but neither Billie Joe nor Mika cared, as they crept up the narrow spiral staircase that wound it's way to the fourth floor. The steps were so old that they had worn away in places and Mika reached one hand out to the peeling wall-paper to steady himself, as he led the way to the top. The whole place smelled of stale marijuana and dust balls but that didn't matter to him at all; all that seemed to matter was the warm press of Billie Joe's hand on the small of his back, as he fumbled the key the night warden had given him into the lock on the door to their room.
The door swung open with a soft creak, to reveal a room containing nothing but a double bed, a set of drawers and an old television. The window was open, letting in the fresh night air and the distant sound of traffic down on the street below them, all of which was mixed with the gentle whirr of the ceiling fan, which wobbled at an angle as it completed each lazy revolution.
He turned to Billie Joe.
“Welcome to Paradise?”
Billie Joe gave a little laugh, sliding his hands into his pockets. He shrugged, with a crooked smile.
“I've stayed in worse places.”
“Oh, man... so have I.”
The voices down on the canal side seemed to become louder in the silence that followed. So did the wobbling ceiling fan. Mika found himself counting each of its rattling turns, as the seconds of tension ticked by. He could feel his heart beginning to race again, wanting nothing more than to sweep aside the mounting craziness of the situation by stepping back into Billie Joe's arms. The problem was, suddenly all of this was feeling frighteningly real again and he wasn't about to spend all night listening to the ceiling fan and waiting for Billie Joe to make another move.
He heard Billie Joe exhale, as he stepped towards him, his green eyes soft and embracing. Mika dipped his head to meet his lips, feeling a shiver run down his spine as the guitarist pulled him closer. He tasted like liquor and cigarettes, Mika decided, moaning softly, as he felt fingers curling tightly in his hair. He had barely noticed them stumbling towards the wall, until Billie Joe backed into it with a little gasp of breathless surprise that almost formed his name. He felt warm, rough fingertips creeping under his t-shirt and skipping across his skin and he smiled against Billie Joe's lips as he was reminded of another perfect detail he had managed to forget; the feel of guitarist's hands.
Mika managed to remove Billie Joe's jacket without breaking their kiss, pushing the cool leather over his slight shoulders and hearing it drop to the floor. His body felt warm underneath and rippled with tension and Mika felt a trembling shudder roll through it, as he lowered his mouth to his neck to place soft kisses against hot skin.
“Mika...” Billie Joe panted, one of his hands twisting in the soft cotton of the singer's t-shirt, and Mika raised his head to look into his eyes, waiting for him to speak before realising he didn't know what he wanted to say after all. Instead, Billie Joe settled for placing his hands on Mika's waist and pushing him, roughly, backwards and Mika felt all his breath leave his chest in surprise, when he found himself flat on his back on the bed with a grinning guitarist on top of him.
“You're too fuckin' tall,” Billie Joe explained, with a growl, “I need you horizontal.”
Mika laughed.
“This works...” he mumbled, in the second before Billie Joe's mouth came down on his again, and then he was arching up into the wet, hot slide of his tongue, one hand fisting in his dark hair. He didn’t even try to hide the moan that burned up out of his mouth, his stomach trembling under the warm press of Billie Joe's body on top of his own. His free hand was fumbling underneath the hem of his shirt, then chasing down the smooth skin of his back to meet the thick leather of his belt, before sliding into the back pocket of his jeans.
It had been so long, they both realised, long enough for so many memories to fade. Mika relished how Billie Joe's scratchy skin felt when his nose nuzzled under his jaw, his breath hot and fast on his neck. Billie Joe was blissfully reacquainted with the feel of Mika's body beneath his fingers; all sharp angles, lean muscle and endless inches of flawlessly smooth, warm skin. Mika had forgotten how Billie Joe's voice sounded in his ear; low, hot and gruff with arousal, and Billie Joe was reminded, with a shiver of gratification, of that dark, glittering intensity that could shadow Mika's eyes.
They explored all this and more, as the sun began to rise and filter through the open window, letting the heat from familiar skin rise into a ceiling fan neither of them could hear any more.
The door swung open with a soft creak, to reveal a room containing nothing but a double bed, a set of drawers and an old television. The window was open, letting in the fresh night air and the distant sound of traffic down on the street below them, all of which was mixed with the gentle whirr of the ceiling fan, which wobbled at an angle as it completed each lazy revolution.
He turned to Billie Joe.
“Welcome to Paradise?”
Billie Joe gave a little laugh, sliding his hands into his pockets. He shrugged, with a crooked smile.
“I've stayed in worse places.”
“Oh, man... so have I.”
The voices down on the canal side seemed to become louder in the silence that followed. So did the wobbling ceiling fan. Mika found himself counting each of its rattling turns, as the seconds of tension ticked by. He could feel his heart beginning to race again, wanting nothing more than to sweep aside the mounting craziness of the situation by stepping back into Billie Joe's arms. The problem was, suddenly all of this was feeling frighteningly real again and he wasn't about to spend all night listening to the ceiling fan and waiting for Billie Joe to make another move.
He heard Billie Joe exhale, as he stepped towards him, his green eyes soft and embracing. Mika dipped his head to meet his lips, feeling a shiver run down his spine as the guitarist pulled him closer. He tasted like liquor and cigarettes, Mika decided, moaning softly, as he felt fingers curling tightly in his hair. He had barely noticed them stumbling towards the wall, until Billie Joe backed into it with a little gasp of breathless surprise that almost formed his name. He felt warm, rough fingertips creeping under his t-shirt and skipping across his skin and he smiled against Billie Joe's lips as he was reminded of another perfect detail he had managed to forget; the feel of guitarist's hands.
Mika managed to remove Billie Joe's jacket without breaking their kiss, pushing the cool leather over his slight shoulders and hearing it drop to the floor. His body felt warm underneath and rippled with tension and Mika felt a trembling shudder roll through it, as he lowered his mouth to his neck to place soft kisses against hot skin.
“Mika...” Billie Joe panted, one of his hands twisting in the soft cotton of the singer's t-shirt, and Mika raised his head to look into his eyes, waiting for him to speak before realising he didn't know what he wanted to say after all. Instead, Billie Joe settled for placing his hands on Mika's waist and pushing him, roughly, backwards and Mika felt all his breath leave his chest in surprise, when he found himself flat on his back on the bed with a grinning guitarist on top of him.
“You're too fuckin' tall,” Billie Joe explained, with a growl, “I need you horizontal.”
Mika laughed.
“This works...” he mumbled, in the second before Billie Joe's mouth came down on his again, and then he was arching up into the wet, hot slide of his tongue, one hand fisting in his dark hair. He didn’t even try to hide the moan that burned up out of his mouth, his stomach trembling under the warm press of Billie Joe's body on top of his own. His free hand was fumbling underneath the hem of his shirt, then chasing down the smooth skin of his back to meet the thick leather of his belt, before sliding into the back pocket of his jeans.
It had been so long, they both realised, long enough for so many memories to fade. Mika relished how Billie Joe's scratchy skin felt when his nose nuzzled under his jaw, his breath hot and fast on his neck. Billie Joe was blissfully reacquainted with the feel of Mika's body beneath his fingers; all sharp angles, lean muscle and endless inches of flawlessly smooth, warm skin. Mika had forgotten how Billie Joe's voice sounded in his ear; low, hot and gruff with arousal, and Billie Joe was reminded, with a shiver of gratification, of that dark, glittering intensity that could shadow Mika's eyes.
They explored all this and more, as the sun began to rise and filter through the open window, letting the heat from familiar skin rise into a ceiling fan neither of them could hear any more.