“Oh how quickly we forget how he treated Duff who was there to pick him up after I broke up with him.”
“Axl, if you keep that up, you’re going to fall through the ceiling into one of the Motley’s lap,” Slash said flicking off the TV. Axl ignored the guitarist and continued to pace, the mumblings increased. Slash scowled and chucked the remote into the wall. His idea was that the violent outburst would help alleviate some tension as well as get a reaction out of the red head. It didn’t. Axl did pause in his pacing, but didn’t look at him.
“Would it make any difference to you?” Axl’s voice was low, with an indescribable tone.
“What?” Slash asked from the bed.
“Would it matter to you if the roles were reversed? If I was the one that blonde fluff head pretty boy fucker punched?” Axl’s tone was flat, yet anxiously yearning for an answer.
“Where did this come from?” Slash said, shifting his position on the bed with a perplexed look on his face. “Why are you asking about yourself and what I would do? I thought you were mad that Vince punched Izzy.”
“I fucking am!” Axl growled, rounding on Slash. His hands instinctively became fists. Slash frowned unappreciative of the gesture. “I just want to know why you aren’t more upset about it. Izzy’s your friend too. He was more than that at one time in case you’ve forgotten!”
“Shut up, Slash!” Axl howled. “Just shut the fuck up! There’s not a damned thing you could say that will make me feel better!”
Axl stomped toward the door, but a hand slammed him into it before he could twist the handle. Struggling, the singer tossed his shoulders back and forth trying to dislodge the hand between his shoulder blades that pressed him hard against the door. The guitarist pushed his hip into Axl’s backside, pinning him more ruthlessly. Slash sensually ran his fingers through the long copper red locks with his free hand as he massaged the singer’s spine. Axl gritted his teeth.
“We’re seriously having this conversation again? You know why I went after Izzy,” Slash murmured harshly into his ear. “You know why I fucked him and why I played with him like that.” His hand had fallen to Axl’s shoulder. Fingers sliding up under the thin cotton to run his stubby nails over the bare pale skin. Thin string like lines of ruby remained where his nails had been. “And you also know it wasn’t my intention to leave him like I did. Quit making him into the martyr you know he’s not.”
“You made him the martyr, not me.”
“Oh how quickly we forget how he treated Duff who was there to pick him up after I broke up with him.” His arousal pressed hard into Axl’s backside as he shifted his hips forward. It also didn’t help that his voice dropped a few octaves into a lower sultry pitch as it crawled across the nape of his neck. Axl’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s just it. You shattered his heart and now he can’t trust anyone,” Axl shot back. The dickhead was getting off on this. Of course he is, Axl thought. “Duff is your best friend so why would he have any reason to trust him?”
“Does he trust you?”
“What?” Axl strained his head to one side to see the glinting smile peeking out form behind ebony curls.
“You’re Izzy’s closest friend in the group, and look whose bed you crawl into every night.” Slash’s smug smile broadened. Axl faltered. It shouldn’t have, but those upturned lips turned him on. He still wanted to kill Slash right on the spot.
“Now get your scrawny ass in that bed,” Slash said before throwing the singer onto the pile of tangled sheets. He pulled his t-shirt off before mounting himself onto Axl’s torso, resting his groin on the singer’s belly. “We both need to work off some tension.”
“Hey, not home, you know what to do…Beep…”
“Godammit, Lawless! Answer your fucking phone, you fucking dickhead or I’m going to sell those naked pictures I have of you to every journalist from Sunset to New York. I’m going to give every fan girl your home address and phone number!” Nikki screamed into the receiver before pounding it repetitively against the wall. He dropped the phone and resumed pounding the wall with his fist. A hesitant hand looped around the bassist’s arm taking the phone and placed it on the receiver.
“Dude, who were you trying to call so badly?” Tommy asked bewildered. Nikki’s face changed into a mask of hatred, causing the drummer to recoil.
“That’s not what’s important here,” Vince said, flicking away a cigarette. “That little snot nose red head wants a fight with me.” He rubbed his hands together. “I have half a mind to go give him one.”
“I’d wait a bit.” Mick said suddenly. Everyone turned to the dark silent man. He shrugged unperturbed. “I just came from the Gunner’s floor. Slash is busy with him.”
“Why were you on their floor?” Nikki asked coldly as Tommy and Vince laughed.
“Wanted to see how good Vince got Stradlin.” Mick’s voice detached, but fixated on his words. “Couldn’t find him. Duff and Steven were missing too.” Nikki glared at the guitarist’s words. “I’m still on your side Nik.”
“What the fuck ever,” Nikki growled, but deep inside he was relieved to hear his band mate say that.
“Is that scrawny kid worth it Nik?” Vince asked. “I mean seriously, you’ve had ones a lot better looking. And he definitely did a number on your nose.” He reached out to flick the bassist’s bandaged nose. Nikki pulled back quickly from sheer reflexive instinct. “What do you see in him?”
“Challenge,” was all Nikki said in reply. It was both an answer and a threat. He was threatening Vince to not get in his way, but simultaneously answering why he was so dead set on having the little guitarist eating out of the palm of his hand while curled up in his lap.
“You should find a way to use this incident to your advantage.” Mick offered out of nowhere. All eyes fell on the silent shredder again.
“Don’t you think I’m trying?” Nikki yelled. “Fuck you, man!”
“In the meantime can I beat up Duff?” Tommy asked sheepishly.
“Fuck, T-Bone. If anyone’s beating up that fluffy haired lanky bassist it’s gonna be me,” Vince hissed, stepping up to Tommy. He poked the drummer in the chest. Tommy glared viciously at the blonde.
“You already got it out for their singer,” Tommy snapped. “Save one for me.”
“No one’s going to do anything to anyone,” Nikki announced resentfully. “That’s the angle I’ll work. I’m keeping both of you restrained so his buddies won’t get hurt.”
“Will that be enough to impress him?” Mick asked casually.
“It’s a start.”
“That guy isn’t impressed by much.” Tommy offered. His eyes still flashed with anger at being rejected the chance to beat up the blonde.
“He’s not the type who goes in for those acts of heroism,” Mick said observantly. Tommy nodded.
“Just get him plastered and then fuck him,” Vince said with a coercing sneer.
“I should just fucking kill you two fuckheads!” Nikki yelled, his eyes flashing with anger. “If it wasn’t for the two of you barging in, I would have already fucked my prize, but you had to come in and play hero.”
“What the fuck did you want me to do Nikki?” Vince growled back. “Let him beat you up?”
“Who the hell said that guy could beat me up! I could take him and you, any day any time.”
“Want to bet on that?” Vince hissed stepping forward.
“There ain't no need for ya. Go straight to hell boys!” A loud off key singsong voice thundered from the hallway, followed by a thud and a groan.
Intrigued, the Crue peeked their heads out the door to see.