Naturally, a couple of days of pure happiness come at a price of weeks and weeks of stress, desperation, and loneliness. That's just the way of the world. Our dear Mother Nature took good care of us, mere mortals, and made sure we didn't spend too much time being happy so that we would truly appreciate those fleeting moments of happiness.

Time was moving in weird illogical leaps for a few weeks for both lovers. Their short vacation came to an end, they moved on with their lives, and the job was taking up all of their time and energy, but there was a catch – the hours of rest that usually felt so short, all of a sudden turned into eternity. Those rare hours of being awake between all the daily fuzz and a strange slumber that made you shut down on the spot in whichever pose it caught you, but didn't make you feel any less tired. It was those very hours when Ville would wake up at ungodly hours of 4 or 5 am when there was no one to talk to, no one, who could make him a company for some game or just chill with him for a while with a cup of coffee and some snacks. Turned out that everyone on the bus could sleep soundly until at least 9 am, while he couldn't. Not anymore. Well, he would've loved to go to sleep for another twenty hours, but in a different place and situation. And in the given state of events, he just knew that he had to get up and do something because otherwise, his whole fucking body would combust with a desire to fuck, and each day his fantasies were drifting further and further away from what is considered normal among common people.

So he had to get up and make himself enjoy the fucking dawn that was flashing in between identical one-story houses, which is a typical view on the way from one big urban settlement to another. He had to make himself enjoy the view and find beauty in that particular type of trees or that particular type of houses, and maybe even try to find something endearing about an incredibly creative home-decor, which was pretty much the same in every country, the only thing different was the color of idiocy, which was changing in accordance with the fashion trends of the season. There was no individuality in any of it what so ever.

He had to sit there, taking small sips of hot coffee made by a flimsy coffee maker, and try to find interest in reading some particularly labored literature that was looking for the origins of the esoteric knowledge in the history of pagan beliefs of the third world countries. It was all starting to look like a case for a psychiatrist.

Ville rested his chin on his hand, hovering over yet another book. He was trying not to think about what was going on with his body down there under the table. It wasn't like he was ready to jump on anyone, who would suggest anything even remotely sexual, it was the fact that he was sitting there, trying to drink some coffee and read, hiding his flushed face in his hands, feeling a rush of blood downstairs, while imagining how a certain someone could put all of that to good use.

Conclusion number one.

Turns out, a boner doesn't go away even if you go from lying down into a somewhat vertical position and sit up with a book and a cup of coffee. Well, certainly, he took some delight in sending Bam a couple of naughty text messages, and the guy on the other end of the line wasn't the timid sort either. Moreover, unlike him, Bam was lying in his own bed, which basically meant that Ville was set to lose from the start.

Conclusion number two.

Masturbation started to have a tint that was previously unknown to him. Instead of releasing the sexual tension it started to inflame his desire even more. In fact, Ville already started to get suspicious about that nasty trick about sex a bit earlier. It's commonly thought that the lack of sex makes you hornier, and vice versa, regular sex means lower sex drive. Which means you're supposed to want sex less, maybe just once in a while, homeopathically. It took Ville a couple of years to realize how fucking delusional he was about it. At first, he thought that he had missed that special sensitive phase of his teenage years, when everything seems to have a sexual meaning, and that his body was simply making up for all that lost time, but later on he came to realize that having sex with your loved one makes you want even more sex, and your brain can't seem to switch to anything else apart from that sex.

There was something pathological about it.

When after an orgasm every fleeting touch was causing a burning sensation in all the right places when the degree of insanity and the desire to repeat the mischief, that epic slap in the face to social norms and sexual stereotypes grew stronger after every act of said mischief. It wasn't even like his body was ready to take it all, but his fucking brain couldn't switch to anything else. The more depraved and longer and more interesting the sex was, the more excited he felt to be in his role in that sex, and the more he felt the need to reach that bliss again in any way possible. He got imprinted on the person, and he was craving for physical and intellectual interaction with that person like a junkie.

The only thing he wanted was 'more'.

It was like some kind of male nymphomania.

He really couldn't think about anything else while having sex. It didn't bring him a release from a physical tension, it was a different world, in which his conscious existed, and it didn't want to find any kind of common ground or compromise with reality.
Ville realized that he was looking at every man and woman at work with strange thoughts: do they really have sex just like that, conventionally and decently, according to the plan, ten minutes of foreplay, including a shower before the act, two minutes of sex, and then just go to work, looking cool and composed, as if nothing happened? It was inexplicable to him how such a thing was possible at all.

Ville tried to discuss that burning question with his best friend Mige Amour and asked him, whether he experienced anything like that in his personal life, but the only response he got from Mige was a heavy smack upside his head and a recommendation to come back to him with that question later, when at least some of the blood from his lower head would start to return to his upper head.

It was a grey morning in a tour bus, Mige came out of the toilet, yawning and scratching his head, because, as every true rocker knows, showering on tour is for the wussies.

'Yoga News from Guru the Lightbringer: Asana "a desperate cobra lures passing vipers into mating"?' he asked, looking at Ville's pose.

'A-ha-ha-ha-ha,' Ville laughed somehow automatically. His back started hurting from sitting up with a book, so he decided to change position – he lay down across two seats, so his head was hanging in the alley, and was reading his book that way, holding it in his outstretched hands. He crossed his legs and rested them against the window, which probably looked rather peculiar from the outside, but as every professional, who spends half of his life traveling in a bus, Ville didn't give a flying fuck about such things.

'I'm just trying to make some blood return to my upper head…' Of course, Ville wouldn't have been Ville, if he hadn't returned Mige his comment.

Mige ripped off a corner of a milk pack with his teeth and carefully poured the drink into a glass.

'Any progress?' he asked. 'Hey, did Gas finish off my biscuits last night?'

'Well, I regained the ability to read, so that's something,' Ville said. 'Nah, I saved a couple of packs for you, I put them in my bunk. Gas doesn't go near there, he thinks the place is damned.'

'How sweet of you, I always knew you liked me more than Gas,' Mige said gladly. He went to Ville's bunk and grabbed the biscuits. 'I gather you even drew a protective circle around it, to keep the evil spirits away.'

'I sure did.'

'What are you reading?'

'Kiss me at least! We always were good friends—
Kiss me for old times' sake…'

'Dammit, Ville, don't start with that shit again…'

'What are you talking about? I'm just reading you a poem…'

'Did Crowley custom write these poems for you?'

'Well, no, but now that I think of it… he could… yeah, he definitely could…'

'Judging by the beginning of the poem, I suggest you lift your legs a bit higher and put your head a bit lower,' Mige said. 'Have you tried reading something about animals?'

'I have,' Ville said. 'I found a beautiful article on Galapagos Tortoises, but I never finished it, couldn't make it past the word "breeding".'

'I see, we've got a serious case here,' Mige said gravely. 'Alright, keep going, at least I'll know what to prepare myself for.'

'Kiss me just once!
I know this ends— as every sweet thing ends!
But— say you are not angry! Ere you pounce,
Forgive me!'

'I'll think about it,' Mige said. 'Next time I'll give it a really good spin in my head.'

'You could make me glad to die,
I think, if you would only kill me kindly.
Just one swift razor-stroke— cut low!'

'Swift razor-stroke? Cut low? Come on, Ville, I'm sure you came up with this X-rated doggerel by yourself, and now you're trying to abuse my tour-assaulted brain with it, using the name of the old faggot Aleister Crowley as a cover-up,' Mige said.

'No,' Ville snapped. 'The old faggot came up with it by himself. So, are you listening, or are you making jokes? If it's all a joke to you, then I'm getting off this fucking bus on the next stop.'

'I'm listening,' Mige said gloomily, dipping his Oreo in milk. 'Don't go. Who am I going to mock at in the bleak early morning hours on tour? They are like animals,' Mige said, alluding to their bandmates. 'They can't even defend themselves. And Lily… You know he's a mute, it would be like hurting Bamby. Have some mercy for those poor creatures.'

'…and I Would pass the portal happily and blindly.
Yes! I would like to think the fountain sprang…'

Oreo with milk spurted out of Mige's nose.

'For fuck's sake! How can you say such things without a warning!'

'I should read to you guys more often,' Ville said. 'Your ignorance is quite outrageous.'

'No, please, don't,' Mige asked him. 'I don't want you to spoil Lily for me.'

'Straight from my throat and slaked your aching thirst,
Shot to your hot red heart one red hot pang,
Then left you cool and smiling as at first.
I give you freely my heart's agony.
But oh! oh! speak to me! do speak to me!'

'Alright,' Mige said seriously, it seemed that the poetry didn't impress him the way Ville was hoping it would. 'Alright, let's speak…'

A couple of weeks went by since their vacation in Lapland.

And it happened so that Bam showed up unannounced on Ville's Birthday Party. He didn't tell Ville that he would come, because he didn't know for sure until the very last moment if he would be able to make it or not, and for how long he would be able to stay. So he told Ville that the chances are he wouldn't be there. Ville wasn't making a big deal out of his birthday and didn't give him any kind of a special invitation anyway, which Bam, of course, found rather curious, but he didn't promise Ville that he would come either.

He didn't want to give him a heads up.

Sure enough, Bam made a promise to himself a long time ago that he would come to that party like a bolt from the blue no matter what.

He knew that there was going to be a party or a gig, or a party and a gig for close friends.

Bam quickly checked in into Torni Hotel, and set off to the club, thanking the creation for the unimpressive size of Helsinki that was so easy to cross by the means of one hormone driven human power.

He was ready to put up a fight to get into the club, but peculiarly enough, the security let him in without any questions. Everyone was there: Seppo with his wife, Mige, Lily, Gas, Zoltan, Silke with her husband, the drummer of "69 eyes" with his friends and fans, and his Love... who had some short and chubby pouted-lipped fucker in a cap hugging him by the waist.

Ville was hugging that guy across the shoulders, and gulping down red wine right from the bottle at the same time.

Technically, the short fucker was in a really good position, because thanks to his support Ville could stand somewhat straight on his feet. In fact, it was an arguable question, which one of them needed the support of the other more, but together they managed to stay in a somewhat vertical erected position.

Of course, that view caught Bam completely by surprise.

'Whatthefuck? Fuck me sideways, Ville, I haven't even forgiven you for Midge yet, and now this?!' He exclaimed right up front.

'Hey, Ki-i-i-itty,' Ville affably waved at him with the bottle, spilling about a half of its contents all around him, his voice sounded loud and clear over the whole general buzz of conversation and music coming from an old hard-bitten plastic boombox. 'You're here…'

The four-legged construction stumbled across the room to him, gave him a warm one-handed hug and a kiss on his mouth with Ville's lips, enveloping him with the scent of cigarettes, alcohol and fresh sweat. Bam returned Ville the kiss and was about to point out that the fucker, who was groping his tits was out of place, but the fucker was already pouting his lips to get a kiss from Bam as well, repeating mockingly after Ville:
'The Kitty's here…'

Bam put his hand against the fucker's shoulder, trying to separate him from Ville. Then he finally got a better look at him:
'Oh damn, you're that dude... from Bloodhound Gang... Aren't you?'

'This is Jimmy Pop,' Ville introduced his new crutch to Bam.

'And this-s-s is the h-hot-ttest girl in Finland,' Jimmy Pop introduced Ville to Bam. 'But she prefers to be called Ville.'

'Girl, you'll be a woman soon,' Bam said grimly, making Ville burst out laughing like a hyena. Bam unclutched Jimmi's grip around Ville's waist, and Jimmy immediately clasped his arms around Bam's neck. Bam realized, that his jealousy was out of place because unlike Ville, who was just a little tipsy, Jimmy was completely hammered.

'We've been celebrating pretty much since dawn,' Ville explained.

'That explains why I couldn't get to you on the phone,' Bam grumbled.

'Oh, come on, Bam, relax, here, take a drink,' Bam had no other option but to squeeze his eyes shut and make a couple of gulps.

'WHOA, I KNOW YOU! YOU'RE BAM MARGERA!' Jimmy exclaimed happily all of a sudden. He even seemed to sober up a little as he drew back and extended his hand for a handshake. 'Me and the guys from the band fucking love Jackass!'

'Well, yeah, thanks,' Bam was clearly flattered that Jimmy recognized him, so his voice sounded warmer this time. 'You guys are cool, too…'

'I'm HIM's Biggest Fan,' Jimmy said, unknowingly building up the tension on their end of the room once again, 'Although Jussi doesn't agree with me, he thinks that…'

Bam musingly moved closer to stand side by side with Ville and gave him a smack on the ass, as if showing his rights on him, but made it in a way that was completely inconspicuous from a side, but very obvious to Ville. Ville's mien was a perfect representation of an old saying "Spit in a whore's face, and she will say it is raining", he just stood there, laughing at shitfaced Jimmy and at Bam, who was jealous like Shakespeare's Othello. Alright, we'll see who laughs tomorrow.

'I didn't know you guys knew each other,' Jimmy looked surprised.

'Yeah, Bam and I are close friends,' Ville explained nonchalantly, gracefully caressing Bam's palm on his ass, which almost immediately granted him redemption, even though Bam never suspected he could be so forgiving. Sure enough, the feeling of Ville's ass under his palm and his caress in response made Bam's dick joyfully harden in his pants.

He didn't believe Ville in the slightest, but he knew for sure that Mige would've warned him if something was wrong. He trusted Mige. Jimmy excused himself, telling them that he had to take an urgent call on a porcelain telephone. Ville burst out laughing and pushed him in the direction of the bathroom, and then grabbed Bam's hand, dragging him somewhere.

Bam followed him across the crowded room, trying to take another gulp from the bottle and wave at Don Miguel on the way… but Ville was persistent and was quick to redeem his good name, as they entered a room that was dim, cool and empty.
'Mmmmm… Did you bring me the present?' he asked. Damn it, he was drunk, but it didn't ruin the situation at all. Quite the opposite, it was giving the situation just the right kind of spice.

Ville was always perfect.

But fucked up Ville out of his mind was truly phenomenal. It was the rare case when alcohol significantly improved the person's character instead of making it worse.

'Yea…' Bam was about to tell Ville about the real present that he brought for him, but then he realized why Ville was asking, and why the hell he was pressing him against the wall almost moaning with desire.

Although… He really was moaning, barely audibly, burning the sensitive skin on Bam's neck with his breath and soft touches of his lips… And Bam's mind drifted away as if taken by the waves of the Gulf Stream or something even more powerful.

Bam remembered their password "Present".

And he remembered their goddamn trip to Lapland when he got to see a reindeer, and how Ville didn't allow him to pet it, because, as Ville explained, the reindeers have such a fur structure that petting them would hurt the animal. It happened the following day when they finally made it to Santa's Village.

They stood there, resting their forehead on the wooden hedge around the fold, and watched the reindeers dragging the sleds with the visitors, who were willing to take a ride. Or rather, they were supposed to be dragging the sleds with visitors, but most of the animals were lying miserably in the snow with a grim absent look.

It was prohibited to pet the reindeers, so the friends just stood there, looking sadly at the animals and were having the most meaningful conversation one could ever imagine.

'Willah.'

'Wat.'

'Willah, imagine if all that Santa Claus thing was real and Santa could really give you anything you wanted. What present would you wish for?'

Ville went into deep thinking for a few long minutes, measuring the options in his head, and then he scratched his head over the beanie and said:
'Errr… A cock.'

Bam was finally pleased with the view that he was getting: the trees covered in snow, the river, Aurora Borealis, and the tipsy Finnish Asshole in a beanie next to him… And he was especially pleased with the fact that at night that Asshole would be lying next to him naked without the beanie. Santa's village with its cute wooden houses, reindeers and Santa's Little Helpers in national costumes looked so magical that it got him feeling like a little kid in a Christmas fairytale, so he didn't catch Ville's answer at first.

'What?' he asked, thinking that he must have misheard him.

'A hard dick,' Ville said, looking tenderly at the tired old reindeer, who was lying on the snow-covered ground with a look of despair in his eyes. 'I feel so sorry for this fella.'

'Hey, man, I had no idea that you have problems in that department,' Bam said carefully. 'As far as I remember the two of us in the past two days, you were hard at all times. And you came every time, which I found impressive. I used to think that those kind of things in porn were just special effects from the fat-free yogurt manufacturers. Do you want us to sneak here at night and set the reindeer free?'

'Yes, I do,' Ville said. 'I wasn't talking about my own dick. I was talking about "a dick", you know, someone's dick that I could put to use.'

Bam looked at Ville affectionately and carefully butted his forehead against Ville's forehead.

'Your head is full of dicks,' Bam whispered tenderly.

'And it's all your fault,' Ville said, giving him a soft butt in return.

'I never wanted anybody as much, as I want you,' Bam said. What was there for him to lose anyway. He had already lost everything. Or gained everything, love is a hard game, you never know, whether you've lost or won in the end. Ville opened his lips for a kiss, none of the workers seemed to be around, and the reindeer wouldn't give a damn even if they decided to fuck right in front of him, or dance the cancan, or even eat one of his brothers, while lying naked in the snow and drinking Salmiakki Koskenkorva. He would still lie there, looking at them with the same universal existential tragic pain, and wouldn't even turn a hair. There was nothing in the whole wide world, that could make that old reindeer motherfucker lose his composure. 'I never wanted ANYTHING in this world as much, as I want you,' Bam said, once their lips separated after a passionate kiss.

And even if Ville had some questions to Bam, there was simply nothing to object to him on this part.

'Do you want to see Santa?' Ville asked, stepping away from the wooden hedge that was separating the fatigued souls of the reindeers from freedom.

'Yes, but I'll fucking strangle you with my bare hands if you ask him to give you some dick,' Bam said, following Ville and throwing his arm around Ville's neck. 'Seeing you suck off a fat bearded fuck in red pants would be a bit too much for my innocent childhood fantasies.'

Ville burst out laughing and surged forward through the untouched snowbank, dragging Bam after him in the direction of Santa's House:
'You know, I never would've thought of that myself, but now that you've said it, it seems like I found my ultimate erotic fantasy!'

'Fuck-face,' Bam said and jumped on Ville from behind, hoping to catch his rival off-guard, but suddenly found himself lying on his back in a snowbank.

'But. How?' He asked Ville, who was holding him carefully after dropping him in the snow.

'Judo. Nine years, green belt,' Ville breathed tenderly into Bam's neck. Up until that moment, Bam didn't know how deeply sexual a word "judo" could sound. He had no idea until he heard it from Ville while lying in a snowbank.

'Green Belt? Is it like… cool?'

'Well, I don't know, but out of the two of us - you're the one lying on the ground.'

'Teach me. I love any sport that involves groping you, even if it means that you'll be throwing me on the ground or into snowbanks.'

'I love throwing you on the ground and into snowbanks.'

'Oh, God, I love you. That probably makes me a masochist.'

'Oh yeah, Baron von Sacher-Masoch,' Ville said, 'And I'm your Venus in Furs.'

'Isn't Venus supposed to be a girl?'

'A new reading: Venus with Balls,' Ville said grimly.

Bam hooted with laughter, scaring away the birds that were sleeping on the nearby trees.

'It's not that hard really,' Ville said, helping Bam on his feet. 'Here, look.'

Ville showed Bam how to stand and put Bam's hands on himself the way it seemed right. Bam immediately started whimpering languorously like a trained seal that was about to get a treat from his trainer.

'Just like that, see?' Ville said.

'Yes, I see,' Bam said, although, in all honesty, he didn't pay attention to Ville's instructions, he just liked touching Ville, while he was showing him the way to do the trick right. Bam would've loved to put his hands on Ville in a couple of other more intimate places, but all of a sudden he felt that it would be rude of him to hurt the feelings of the old reindeer in such a tactless way.

That's why a moment later Bam found himself lying under Ville yet again. Ville realized that his career of a judo trainer, in this case, went to nothing, and helplessly straddled Bam's lap. Bam's back felt a bit cold from lying on the snow, but the place where Ville was sitting felt so hot, that it would've been enough to light up a light bulb or two.

And of course, Bam was always ready to give Ville THAT present. In fact, Bam pictured their first night of love after separation somewhat differently. He often imagined how it would happen in various details. He was weighing all the options, he even watched a couple of dozens of relevant pornographic productions in order to compensate for his lack of experience. He didn't understand a goddamn thing, but he knew that he would be able to perform something similar if necessary. Oh yeah, Bam was really preparing for that Night of Love, it was finally the time for him to show himself, to present Ville with the gift of his dreams in all its glory, with all the appropriate attributes, with candlelit dinner, a bath, a big bed, and slow, gentle lovemaking. And without an excessive amount of alcohol, if possible… Alright, a couple of glasses of beer only improve the taste of sperm.

But Ville, as always, had his own take on what was going on. Namely, he somehow thought that the best way to receive his birthday present was to kneel in front of Bam in some kind of a hemmed room, unzip his pants and suck him off.
And once that happened - Bam was in no position to raise any objections.

They were already in such a relationship that he could not even wholeheartedly joke about it. The only thing he could do was bend over to Ville at some point while standing there like an idiot with his trousers around his ankles and his dick out, and give him a deep passionate kiss, putting in that kiss all tenderness that he had in him, because Ville's recklessness was fucking blowing his mind.

As soon as Bam straightened up Ville's mouth was on the root of all Bam's problems once again, and Bam couldn't help but wail in rapture, hitting the back of his head against the wall, feeling the touch of Ville's hot lips on his dick, sensing, hearing and feeling with his whole body that tremendous craving. That's it, full stop. The Craving.

The craving for contact, not a fucking desire to please that was sold left and right, but some kind of a twisted desire to get pleasure out of the process - that's what Bam was finding so astonishing about that blowjob. Ville wasn't giving Bam head to bring him pleasure, he wasn't trying to sell his ability to take a dick into his throat, he knew what he was doing and he was doing it to please himself in the first place. But despite that, or maybe thanks to that Bam was hissing, panting and scratching the wall with his nails in an attempt to hold for a few more second and make that bliss last longer. It was an amazing personal talent of Ville's, to behave like a complete fucking whore while maintaining his masculine dignity because he was so blunt and straightforward at taking what he wanted. And he took it the way he wanted to. In fact, he didn't give a damn about feelings of the dick owner, the only thing he cared about was the state of that dick's erection.

Bam found it so unbelievably cynical, unexpected and shocking that the only thing he could do in that situation was to thank God for sending him that drunken bastard, who felt the need to serve him, for one reason or another. And he was also praying to God that none of the fucking hoards of friends and acquaintances that were around Ville for the whole day had given him the same kind of Present for his Birthday. Don't get it wrong, nothing about Ville's enthusiasm was pointing to that, but still, you never know.
He came into Ville's mouth right on that reckless thought, arching his back, swearing and falling down on his knees to lick the evidence of their mutual unruly debauchery from his drunken lover's face.

'Listen to me, I don't care about your plans for the rest of the night, but I'm going to kidnap you from here,' Bam said.

'What makes you think that I want to do anything else apart from what I'm doing at this very moment?' Ville asked him, sitting back on his heels, reclining on his hands and giggling openly.

'I don't take "no" for an answer,' Bam tactlessly grabbed Ville by the collar of his shirt.

'I couldn't have said "no",' Ville said, swaying a little on his feet. 'There's no way such a thing could come to my mind, although I did have a few drinks today, I admit…'

'Oh really? I can't tell at all!' Bam noticed sarcastically.

Quite uniquely for a person as drunk as he was, Ville understood his sarcasm and giggled even louder:
'But we have to grab some booze. I refuse to be away from the booze tonight.'

'And what if I asked you to choose between me and the booze?' Bam said defiantly.

'Don't do this to me, man,' Ville said, laughing to himself. 'Don't break my heart.'

And yes, they set the reindeer free.

They didn't make it to Santa's, though. They went looking for a bar, and after a few drinks decided to postpone the endeavor of giving Saint Nicholas head to some other suitable occasion in the future. So they snuck into Santa's Village at night, after the closing hours, when all the workers and visitors had gone home.

The reindeer was lying on the very same spot they left him a few hours ago.

They opened the gates of the fold.

The reindeer remained still, looking utterly unimpressed by their actions.

'Are you sure it's alive?' Bam asked uncertainly.

'It has to be,' Ville huffed, 'The fucker blinked twice, I swear.'

'Twice?' Bam wondered.

'Indeed.'

'Hey, you,' Bam said. 'You've lived your whole life under hatches, but at least you can die a free reindeer.'

'Holy fuck, it has to be the most inspiring speech I've ever heard,' Ville said. However, the reindeer raised himself on his forefeet and Ville fell on the snow next to him. 'Alright, keep going, enslaved creatures seem to dig your American Mottos…'

Bam burst out laughing.

The reindeer stumbled out of the fold and then, gaining confidence, set off in the direction of the darkening forest.

And then he stopped and turned around to look at them.

'Oh, come on, Forest, run…' Bam groaned while Ville was locking the gates.

The reindeer swung his rack as if showing them his gratitude and disappeared into the polar night.