#there's a teeny tiny (🤏) chance i'll maybe at some point open my askbox for requests of some sort but idk

[theflyingfeeling]

hello and happy February!! I'm back with some pointless Olli/Allu poetry if any of you fancy some 💖

~

The first kiss was the easiest; it happened almost by accident, in the afterglow of a show. Olli was glowing and the sun behind him was glowing and maybe Aleksi was blinded by it all for a moment. Maybe that's why he didn't resist. 

(He knew that wasn't the reason, but he had to tell himself something in defence.)  

((Defence from the truth that he had wanted Olli to kiss him for so long by then, had thought many times he was going to, almost had done it himself just as often, under the most ridiculous of pretexts.))  

(((Homesickness? Loneliness? Heartbreak? Or simply because he wanted to know for sure?)))

((((Know for sure that he had fallen for someone he shouldn't have and that there might be no turning back if he didn't put an end to it before it ever even began.))))

After the second kiss, in the tour bus at 4 in the morning, Aleksi knew he had gone too far to back up anymore.

"You look cute when you blush," Olli told him, his eyes still closed (so how could he tell?) and his nose still touching Aleksi's (so Aleksi felt Olli's breathing on his lips), as if they were still kissing even with their mouths apart.

Which certainly didn't help at all. 

Then came the third kiss, exactly a week from the second one, the longest seven days of Aleksi's life, and it pushed him even deeper into his self-created despair while Olli was pushing him down on the tour bus sofa. It was funny how they were both sucking the life out of him too, in entirely different ways, of course; the despair with the way it kept casting shadows over Aleksi's daily thoughts (except when Olli kissed him), whereas Olli simply did it with his mouth on Aleksi's mouth and neck and cock (except they never got that far that time around, because Aleksi spilled in his shorts simply from Olli kissing him and moving on top of him). 

"That's okay," Olli whispered, and then hid his own moan in Aleksi's mouth. 

Or in his heart – same difference.

~ 

The first morning-after was the worst: remorseful and headachy and his ears ringing with self-accusations. It got easier after that; Aleksi hated how it did. 

(Hated how the night-before always overrode any common sense that threatened to break free from its skull prison to the rest of Aleksi's body.) 

((Which would have been a shot in the dark anyway, for someone who, more often than not, tended to dismiss his own head and instead allied with his heart.))

(((His heart, which was as incompetent as an organ could be, often only pumping blood to his veins when Olli flashed a smile at him from behind his acoustic guitar – and fuck, how much Aleksi wanted to be a guitar – or when Olli glanced at him mid-show while whispering something into Porko's ear – and fuck, if Aleksi had ever wanted to be a Porko in his life; yet, here he was.))) 

((((Or when Olli anything.)))) 

"Fuck you," Olli almost giggled one morning when Aleksi's hand travelled down and down and even further down but then back up again. 

It sounded nothing like the breathless 'fuck me' Olli had whispered him the night before, but it brought back the memories just the same.  

There were morning-afters that weren't mornings at all, really, because they were at an airport or in a plane where time didn't exist, and still Aleksi found the time to want Olli so much he considered missing the flight just to sit in the VIP lounge with Olli's head on his lap until the end of time. There were also morning-afters that weren't 'after' at all, because the two of them had never slept, because making out and making love had been more urgent than dealing with jet lag.  

"Morning," Olli would still say to him, even on those morning-afters when they had done much else but looked at each other and talked and talked and talked all night. 

And fucked, of course, but that was a given. 

~

For all that it was worth, Aleksi knew that keeping count on all the kisses and the nights they shared and the mornings that followed were nothing more but an excuse, a way to fool himself into a sense of control. 

For if there was a first time, there'd always be a last time, too. 

(For acknowledging it was easier than admitting he didn't want there to be a last time.) 

((For there had been signs for a while, like that time Olli had roomed with Niko instead and Aleksi would have sobbed his pillow soaked if Tommi had not been snoring in the bed next to his.))

(((For Aleksi had grown used to having Olli's sweet kisses for breakfast, and if there was a day he didn't, he thought he might as well have stayed in bed all day, until Olli would worm his way back to Aleksi’s proximity (and pants (and heart)) again and drag him into a hidden corner to crash their mouths together and suck the doubt out of him.)))

((((For a moment.)))) 

"Must there be a last time, though?" Niko asked him with a bottle of Heineken on his lips. Several empty ones stood on the table in front of them, already having served their purpose in loosening Aleksi’s lips. 

Aleksi glared at the bottles and at Niko, then at the bottles again, because surely they were to blame for Niko's failure in seeing the inevitability of it. Frustration (or intoxication (or just plain agony)) made Aleksi's head feel heavy when Niko sneered at him upon Aleksi telling him so. 

"Olli's just freaking out a bit," Niko's next words echoed into his bottle with a low-pitched snort, "and clearly he's not the only one." 

As if sensing he was being talked about – or perhaps finally noticing Aleksi's eyes following his every move – Olli held Aleksi’s gaze across the club while whispering something into Porko's ear, then shaking his head at something Porko whispered back, then rolling his eyes and shoving the guy's shoulder with a smile visiting his red (and soft (and sweet)) lips, then wriggling his way through the crowd towards Aleksi and Niko. 

Aleksi got drunk all over again on Olli's cologne as he found a seat next to Aleksi. He breathed in the scent and almost leaned in when Olli did, to speak into Aleksi’s ear. 

"If we leave now, we'll have the bus to ourselves for a couple hours.”

Niko said nothing, because he didn’t need to; the eyebrow he raised at Aleksi was enough to make him want to kick his friend in the shin. 

They walked back to the bus and said nothing, because Aleksi was just too damn stunned when Olli grabbed his hand. They undressed and said nothing, because Aleksi was just too damn scared, having stuttered in front of Olli's grace and made a lovesick fool out of himself enough for one lifetime already. They climbed to Aleksi's bunk and still said nothing, because by then they were in too much of a hurry to be skin on bare skin that there was no room for words anyway, no need for even those sweet nothings or bittersweet everythings Aleksi wished and feared to hear. 

(Nothings, although they meant everything to Aleksi.)  

((Everythings, in the sense that they could crush him.)) 

(((Sweet, like every single tiny (and not so tiny) bit of Olli was, melting right on Aleksi's tongue like sugar.))) 

((((Bitter, because how else was this all going to end?)))) 

"Hold me," Olli breathed into his ear. Aleksi would have done so without Olli asking him to, for there was little else he could have been holding on to with Olli on top of him, with Olli's chest rubbing Aleksi’s own although Olli's back was as good as pressed against the roof of the bunk. 

There was a new kind of neediness in Olli's voice as he rode Aleksi, a strange new urgency that made his whimpers sound almost like sobs. Aleksi held back his own cries, commanding all the doomsday scenarios off his mind, and guided Olli's mouth to his, into a kiss that felt familiar and reassuring in the middle of all that chaos Aleksi had been building up in his imagination for days. 

"Don't stop," Olli spoke into his mouth even with Aleksi's seed already inside him and his own having spilled all over Aleksi stomach and chest. "Take me again," Olli asked, his hips still rolling. 

'Take me, one last time,' Aleksi heard Olli's voice in his head, and flipped him over to his back.  

"Fuck me, Ale," Olli demanded from him, even though Aleksi was already balls deep inside him. 

'Fuck me now, because after this I won't let you anymore.'  

"Show me how much you want me," Olli pleaded, and Aleksi could've laughed against Olli's neck if he hadn't wanted to cry instead. 

His each and every cell craved for Olli; his every thought and action guided him towards the man; he was on his way to fill him a second time that night – what more could he have done to show him? 

'Show me how much you want me–’ Olli’s voice echoed in Aleksi's head. Just the sound of it was enough to help him climax again…

'–because you will never have me.' 

(...despite everything.)

~ 

Olli was still asleep next to him when Aleksi awakened the morning after. It wasn't the first time, but somehow it felt like it was. 

"No," Olli mumbled like a 3-year-old when Aleksi tried to climb over him and venture after the scent of freshly picked-up Starbucks. Instead, he was caught in the trap of Olli's mouth and in the hook of his arms and legs that wrapped around him, like they had done the night before, keeping Aleksi in place until he gave in, until he stopped fighting his head again.

In the pitfall of Olli's embrace, the sweetness of his poison having stunned him, it was too easy to not care if anyone still sleeping away their night-before might hear them move together, mouths locked and hands clasped and cocks grinding as if a new day had dawned just for the purpose of them doing so – what waste would it have been to not take advantage of it? 

Finally free from the siren's spell (although only physically), Aleksi headed downstairs and tried not to stumble on the scattered sneakers on his way. He didn’t want to be as weak as he was and kept his eyes on the sweaty shoes, just so he wouldn’t turn and see if Olli was still looking at him from the bunk corridor. 

He probably would have turned eventually, if he hadn't then felt a hand grasp his just when he reached the stairs. 

A quick kiss to the bone of his cheek, a nose to his temple, then a gentle push to urge him down the steps. A hand still in his; still when the others greeted them with sleepy g'mornings; still when they sat down across Tommi who barely even cared (Aleksi decided the subtle smirk that visited on the man's lips was about something else entirely). 

Olli's head was on Aleksi’s shoulder suddenly, and it took embarrassingly long for Aleksi to even realise. Tommi hadn’t, or at least he hid it well; Joel hadn’t, but he had his phone in his hand; Joonas hadn’t, unless he was psychic and could see things even with his eyes closed as he sat half-asleep beside them; Niko had, judging by the angle of his eyebrows and the purse of his lips holding back amusement, but he was a little shit anyway.  

Maybe, all those things considered, Aleksi could find the boldness it took to kiss the top of Olli’s head, and perhaps even let his nose be buried there for a little too long, just to make his point even clearer. 

(Maybe Olli would cuddle deeper into the sofa and under Aleksi's arm and the world would keep turning; Aleksi’s heart would keep beating instead of breaking, and no one would skin him alive for it.)

((And maybe it wouldn't all crumble and fall apart in Aleksi's palms like a broken tailpipe on whatever US highway they were driving down.))

(((Because maybe there were worst crimes he could commit than falling in love.))) And maybe, Aleksi thought as he felt Olli's silky curls on his lips, it wouldn't be the last time either.