Andrea was exhausted. A sleepless night of the bus trip, a hot summer day, a tiresome concert in the evening. Sweating and burning under the spotlights for almost two hours completely finished him, and half of Jim Beam consumed without having actually ate anything only added to his sickness. The cigarette burnt out and ended up in the ashtray nearby. He changed sides: the narrow bus bed now felt like heaven. Some noise was coming from downstairs: voices, swearing, laughter. Herr Morbid most likely communicated with the French fans sharing some wine, Asher went to the pub, and Algol surely picked up a local girl or two.
Andrea sighed. He was too tired to do anything, and the feeling of loneliness crawled into his mind. It was around midnight, the lights were off for not to get much attention. He opened his pony-tale threw off the jacket and finally stretched his form over the bed instantly drifting away.
He didn't know how much time passed, when he heard some rapid footsteps on the stairs.
Oh, for fuck sake, can't these fuckers leave me alone already for one night. I gotta have some rest or either way I ain't playing tomorrow. - he thought angrily, turning face to the window.
The door slammed open. Andrea shivered and quickly rose in bed. The dim light coming from the first floor outlined a male silhouette. The man was tall enough, athletically built, with strong hands clenched in fists. Algol. What the hell is he doing in my room?
Andrea wanted to get up to explain his definitely wasted band mate how to get the fuck outta here, when Algol rushed to his bed. A smaller man froze in confusion: why is he acting weird?
- Ale?
The only reply was heavy breathing with a strong smell of alcohol. His frame was hovering over him like a shadow, the bleak light from the window stained his face. Andrea noticed the dilated pupils of the bassist's eyes, which coupled with his usually frowned eyebrows and thin tightly clenched lips made him look almost demonic.
Isn't he strung out on coke again?
- Che cazz~
Andrea's breath caught up in his throat as he felt the large strong hand grab him by the shoulders.
- What in the hell name..?
He didn't finish as he felt Algol's warm body against his and his lips tightly pressing against his own. Blood rushed to guitarist's face while he tried to murmur something.
Mmmhhh-
The other man's tongue slipped between his parted lips, tasting like whiskey and cigarettes Suddenly Andrea relaxed, a warm wave of pleasure rocking through his stomach. He gave in, weaving his fingers into Algol's dark hair, and he couldn't help enjoying the feeling of his luscious lips. He felt the larger male's arousal pressing over his stomach and his mind blacked out for a while. He couldn't really distinguish anything happening in next minutes: the rustling of clothes, hot and sharp pain turning into the burning pleasure, insane pace making his heartbeat speed up and an overwhelming intensity of release. Andrea was breathing heavily. Algol's head rested on his naked shoulder, he fell into the deep sleep. He's been always wondering: the bassist didn't look like one of those sweet guys who attract girls, yet he was extremely popular within females. And not it hit him: he owned some kind of a dark, beast-like sensuality making his partners feel like victims, unable to resist the temptation.
Andrea quietly woke up, pulling on the clothes and covering the sleeping band mate with a blanket. He wouldn't remember anything in the morning, waking up with a heavy hangover. The guitarist couldn't resist leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips, trailing his fingers down his cheek.
Still not quite realizing the recent events, Andrea grabbed a hold of a full bottle, quietly woke away and closed the door.