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Hyperventilation	By : Elisabeta Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Apocalyptica Views: 1963 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Apocalyptica. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Hyperventilation
- 1
Title: Hyperventilation
Author: raven
Email: ravens_slavegirl@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All events (except for Perttu’s accident – y’know, that actually happened!) depicted herein are totally the invention of my twisted little mind. There’s absolutely no point in suing me – I’m so poor all you’d get is a battered copy of LotR and a collection of my trashy fanfic.
Pairing: Perttu/Eicca
Summary: Perttu has an accident and records ‘Faraway’. Eicca realises he has a heretofore unacknowledged fascination with Perttu. And my summaries apparently suck rather viciously.
Notes: Oh, I’ve taken a little artistic licence with Perttu’s injuries; there’s an interview stating that he could hardly walk, but I’ve got him drugged up to the eyeballs and walking around like there’s not too much wrong with him.

And so you know, I blame Spooks. And her Apo DVD. But mainly Spooks.

***

He'd seen the same thing a million times before, and seen it done by at least a hundred other people. He was a cellist himself - the pads of Eicca's fingers were long acquainted with the metal bite of a string over wood, the rasp of wire against his prints as he dragged his fingers down toward the bridge, the mounting pressure that stiff bowing brought to his knuckles and to his wrists. He frowned. He was watching Perttu's hands. He was watching Perttu's wrists. He knew what had happened earlier that day, knew Perttu's jaw was broken, along with a couple of ribs. The sensations of his own playing were fresh and clear in his mind - he wondered then how it felt to Perttu.

It had been a dumb accident, Perttu stupidly letting himself be egged on into riding a motor-cross bike with a shoddily-attached helmet and absolutely no skill whatsoever, resulting in his graceless plummet into a ditch minus the helmet. It was the sort of accident that really shouldn't have happened, could have been lethal and would probably be a source of endless amusement one day in the not-so-distant future. But it wasn't a joke yet. Not quite - not when Perttu was still in such obvious pain. Yet there he was, drugged up rather significantly, cello cradled between his thighs, bow in hand, soldiering on. Eicca had to admit there was something impressive in that. It was the sort of act that spoke volumes.

He played with his head thrown back and his throat exposed, a few sweaty strands of hair clinging to his forehead and his cheeks, one straying over his lips that a brief, laboured exhalation freed. His mouth drifted open as his eyes drifted shut; he seemed to sway with the pulse of the music under the low lights, but Eicca couldn't be sure if that was real or if the minute, pained shifting of muscle beneath skin was just in his head, his own interpretations of the melody aching in the air transposed onto Perttu. He tried to imagine the pain in every breath and realised that he heard it in every note.

And then he wasn't staring at his hands. He was staring at his face, at his jaw, trying to guess the exact location of the break beneath the skin. The bruise was obvious but the fractured bone was not; he wondered if he could tell it were he to run his fingertips along Perttu's jaw, or from the sharp intake of breath he'd hear as he hit the sensitive spot. He wondered how it would hurt him if he twined his fingers in his hair, pulled back his head and kissed the bruised line of his jaw. Just thinking about it made his skin flash hot. He let his hair cover the blush.

The solo ended in one long, beautiful stroke of a bow. After the clawing passion of the music, the silence was abhorrent to him; he turned away as Perttu set aside his cello, watching instead from the corner of his eye as Paavo approached and started to chatter. He decided to leave them to it and stood; one last glance over at Perttu changed his mind.

He was talking to Paavo but he was staring at Eicca. Paavo didn’t seem to notice, but the look on his face... Perhaps it was just the painkiller kicking in, or the painkiller *not* kicking in, but that look... It was anticipation, hunger. Lust.

Whatever Perttu said to Paavo, it obviously did the trick; Paavo nodded and the next thing Eicca knew the whole room was clearing out. Perttu picked up his cello and managed to occupy himself a lot long than necessary in putting it back into its case; Eicca, taking his cue from Perttu, did the same. His heart hammered the whole time.

Then, finally, they were alone.

***

Perttu’s cello was in its case. He let his fingers linger on it for a second before he looked up. Eicca was leaning against the wall at the opposite side of the room, one foot resting against it, arms crossed over his chest. He was looking at Perttu. He was staring at Perttu.

Then he moved. He swept across the room in what seemed like three strides, and Perttu found himself stepping backwards. Three steps and his back was to the wall.

He was shivering as Eicca lifted his hand to his face. His eyes were wide and his ribs ached and he was already short of breath when Eicca's fingers brushed his jaw line but if anything his breath came even more quickly then. And it had nothing to do with the pain. It had everything to do with the heat of Eicca's body standing so close by, with the fingertips rasping over his chin and the thumb tracing the line of his mouth, with the way he was staring as Eicca's lips parted to breathe him in.

His shirt felt too tight at the neck, like it was restricting his breathing even more so than his broken ribs, and the thin black material stuck to the flushed, sweat-slicked skin in the hollow at the base of his throat. Eicca's thumb brushed over his Adams apple and along his collarbone, before sweeping back and into that hollow, just below the line of his shirt. Then his hand strayed up into Perttu's hair and his other took its place at his throat, his fingers dipping down, hooking over the shirt and pulling it down 'til it bit against his pulse and made it feel like his neck was set alight.

Their eyes met for an instant. Perttu bit his bottom lip in anticipation. When Eicca finally kissed him, he kissed him in that hollow.

Perttu gasped. The heat and the pressure of the lips at his throat made his stomach flutter and his head spin, and his hands went to grasp at Eicca's shirt of their own accord. He didn't mean to get a handful of long blond hair, but the next thing he knew he was trying to pull Eicca to his mouth by it, his hand at the back of his neck against Eicca's hot skin. Eicca did not comply. Instead he drew back and looked Perttu sternly in the eye - as sternly as he could with flushed lips and slightly dishevelled hair.

"I want you", Perttu gasped desperately, fingers curling in the fabric of Eicca's shirt at his shoulders.

The unanticipated abstinence lost momentum after that. Eicca didn't say a word, didn't even so much as nod. There wasn't a second's warning. He just stepped up and crushed Perttu to the wall, hand on his neck and lips pressed hot and rough to lips. Perttu suddenly realised that Eicca was just as needy as himself.

Perttu was so preoccupied with the feel of Eicca's hair in his hands and Eicca's hand in his hair, not to mention the searing heat of lips against his own, that he barely even registered the free hand that slipped down between them to his jeans. By the time he was fully aware of what exactly Eicca was doing, his jeans were unbuttoned and Eicca's hand had found its way down the front, rubbing him tenaciously through his underwear. He arched forward into that touch, his shoulders tense and pressed hard against the wall, moaning into Eicca's mouth and then into the cold air as Eicca sank to his knees.

Idly he wondered if this would do even more damage to Eicca's already badly scuffed leather trousers. It was a wonder he was even coherent considering the situation, let alone wondering about the well-being of Eicca's clothing, but the thought was quickly lost. Eicca's hand found its way into his boxers and all coherence abandoned Perttu instantaneously.

Eicca yanked down his jeans, hooked his forefingers into the waistband of his boxers and yanked them down too. Perttu was already hard and quite frankly had been for some time, since the solo; it wasn't the solo itself that had done it to him so much as the way Eicca had been staring at him through it, at his hands as he played, at his bared throat, with the same heat he knew was in himself. Eicca glanced up into his face for a second and unconsciously licked his lips. Perttu's stomach fluttered again. His balls tightened.

For the first few seconds he actually managed to watch as Eicca went down on him. He watched through the curtain of his ruffled blond hair as Eicca's pretty lips wrapped around his cock. He saw it at the same moment he felt it, as he was suddenly engulfed in the wet heat of Eicca's mouth. The feeling dizzied him. Eicca's hands went to his thighs and dug in probably at least a little harder than he'd intended and the situation warranted, but by that point Perttu was past caring.

His head lolled back against the wall and his eyes drifted shut. One of Eicca's hands found its way up under his shirt and the light touch made him shiver. The movement of Eicca's tongue, his lips, his hands... it made him tingle and as his breathing quickened still further up toward the edge of hyperventilation, he knew he wasn't going to last long. He might even have said so. The pounding of his pulse in his ears meant he probably wouldn't have heard it anyway.

He came unceremoniously maybe thirty seconds later, with a shudder and a string of muffled obscenities, swallowing hard and feeling like he'd just run the four minute mile with a cello strapped to his back.

When he finally opened his eyes, Eicca was leaning back on his leather-clad heels and looking up at him with a small, amused smirk. That was probably as close as he was going to get to a smile. He supposed he should be grateful, and he supposed he was.

"Good solo", Eicca said. "You played well".

Perttu couldn't answer. He was too busy trying to catch his breath, and fumbling with his jeans. Eicca stood, straightened his shirt, tossed his hair back over his shoulder and cursed under his breath as he looked down at the knees of his trousers. Perttu resisted the urge to giggle like a twelve-year-old; he doubted Eicca would appreciate it and frankly he wasn't sure his ribs were up to it. He just leaned back against the wall and watched as Eicca turned on his black Cuban heels and started to walk away. He shivered. Perhaps a little of the previous warmth was draining from him. He resigned himself to watching Eicca leave.

But then he turned.

"So are you coming with me?" he asked, his voice echoing in the empty corridor.

Perttu deliberately didn't smile; he forced himself to frown instead. "I wouldn't be much use to you", he replied.

"You won't be injured forever". Eicca turned and made for the exit.

Following Eicca to the door, despite the dull ache in his ribs and periodic throbbing in his jaw, Perttu couldn't help but think - if this was how it all turned out, maybe the odd injury every now and then would be worth his while.

***
End
***
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Hyperventilation