“You should consider the option that you might actually be falling in love with the guitarist.”
“Dunno,” he mumbled around a cigarette. “Maybe he likes him.”
“He can’t like him. He’s not Izzy’s type.”
“Yeah?” Slash cast a curious look at the singer, pulling the cigarette from his lips. “So then what’s Izzy’s type?”
“That narrows it down.” Slash remained fixated on the red head ignoring their luggage. Axl seemed oblivious to the guitarist’s anxiousness. Instead, the singer hummed a while, rocking slightly in thought.
“Someone who’s not an asshole to him.” Slash’s eyes narrowed, but Axl continued. “Nikki really is just playing around with him. He’s going to string him along until that asshole’s made him into his personal lap dog and then he’s going to drop him for the next piece of ass he sees. Izzy, needs someone who will care about him, and treat him right. Not someone who just uses him for his own selfish reasons,” Axl said seriously. “I’d never be with someone who was that much of an asshole to someone who they supposedly love.”
“Sometimes people do things, because they think it’s the right thing to do,” Slash said, his voice growing more irate. “It’s not always easy, you know. Sometimes they don’t think things through. You shouldn’t just blame the first person who looks guilty.”
Axl looked up at his boyfriend. Dark curls had fallen into his face, exposing only off white teeth that were clenched in a primal scowl. Slash’s pulse quickened as the singer continued to look over his tense body. He tried to figure out whether the guitarist was angry or just plain horny. He tended to have the same look on him when it came to anger or sex.
“Maybe you should talk to him then, Red.” Steven popped his head in the doorway just before either could say a word. “You two don’t hang out much anymore.”
“That’s true.” Axl looked far away in thought. “I mean he always made time for me, even when he was hooking up with you, Slash. He was always there for me.”
“Fucking saint,” Slash muttered under his breath. He ground his tarnished teeth over his cigarette.
“Yeah, hey Axe why don’t you go find him now,” Steven said nudging his shoulder. “You know, make some plans or something.”
“Yeah, good idea man,” Axl said patting the blonde’s shoulder as he left the room without a word to the fuming guitarist.
“You doing okay?” Steven asked Slash once the singer was gone.
“You really think Izzy’ll come around if he and Axl hang out one time?”
“They were best friends before they got here and Axl needs to make room for him.” Steven looked away before continuing. “You both do.”
“When’s he going to realize Duff is in love with him? And has been in love with him since he first saw him play.” Slash’s voice ground with irritation.
“When are you going to start being nicer to him?”
“How fucking nice do I fucking have to be? Breaking up with him was one of the hardest fucking things I’ve ever had to fucking do!” Slash yelled clutching his hair as he sat down in the chair.
“Look man,” Steven started, but paused when he saw the guitarist tightened his grip. “Maybe you should talk to Izzy. Your break up was rather, well, abrupt.”
“I also dicked the man of Duff’s dreams and he still talks to me,” Slash hissed back.
“That’s because you gave up Izzy so Duff could have him. In a sense, Duff won.” Steven ripped a crumpled cigarette from his torn jeans, flicking open the lighter he found on the bed. “Besides, Duff’s too nice to hold a grudge for too long. You know at the very least you could figure out what Sixx’s motives are for Izzy.”
“Why is everyone on me about Sixx? He probably just wants to get laid.”
“Well, first of all, you know him better than any of us. Second, if that guy just wanted to get laid he would have had Izzy by now and not bother with him anymore,” Steven informed him. Slash burst out laughing.
“Man, you don’t know Izzy.”
“All the more reason you should make peace with Izzy as well as talk to Sixx,” Steven said.
“He’s not going to want to talk to me,” Slash whined.
“You at least owe him an apology. Start there.”
“How much has he told you about what happened?”
“He hasn’t told me anything,” Steven said stubbing out his cigarette. “I’ve just pieced together bits of information between being drunk.” He stood up. “I’m going to make sure Duff is okay. Make sure you’re somewhat sober for the show, okay?”
“You mean you made all that noise and you didn’t even fuck him last night!” Tommy practically screamed, causing Nikki to rub his temples with his fingers, groaning softly.
“He’s waiting for the little bitch to say he loves him.” Vince jeered with a mocking smile. “It’ll be more romantic that way.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Nikki hissed, his eyes still covered by his hand.
“He already did,” Tommy said. “Last night he jacked off to you and Izzy going at it.”
“Sick fuck.” Nikki shot a half amused, half glare at the blonde who returned the look with an arrogant smile. He turned to the silent shredder.
“And what did you do last night?”
“Pulled Tommy away from the door and tucked him in.”
“Don’t worry, we didn’t have sex.” Tommy piped up. Nikki smirked and glanced at the impenetrable man beside him. Mick remained a silent shade.
“But seriously Nikki, when are you going to fuck the guy? You’ve been wanting to since before we went on tour,” Vince asked.
“Soon. I’ve got this guy practically following me around like a puppy. You can’t tell me he seriously mistook our bus for theirs.”
“Busses look a lot alike when you’re drunk,” Mick stated with a slight shrug.
“No one asked you.” Nikki barred his teeth at the dark man who merely re-crossed his legs.
“Few do,” Mick dismissed.
“Hey guys, five minutes.” The road manager quickly popped his head in the room before disappearing again.
“I’m so sick of these damn interviews,” Nikki complained. “We sit on our asses and answer the same damn questions over and over to carbon copy clones of reporters for eight hours.”
“Well then shut up for once and let me talk.” Vince pouted as he walked to the door, adjusting his scandalously tight white pants.
“Why would I do that?” Nikki asked perplexed. “You don’t know shit about our band.”
“Fuck you, asshole!”
“Come on, Vince let’s go get a good seat next to the host so you can talk a lot.” Tommy steered the sulking blonde out the door.
“Nikki,” Mick spoke in a heavy alcohol induced voice. “You should consider the option that you might actually be falling in love with the guitarist.”
“Yeah, I like him, a lot, but it’s not love, love. After I fuck him, things will go back to normal and I’ll be in control again. I’m just giving him a false sense of power,” Nikki said with a haughty air. Mick stared unconvinced. “I’m just putting it off because I’ll get more out of it when I get to bend him over.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have let him touch you like he did.”
“You said you weren’t listening.” Nikki’s eyes sparkled naughtily.
“I wasn’t,” Mick said indifferently. “But I have ears. Just think about treating him like a person instead of a conquest or a challenge. You just might make the two of you very happy.”
Mick left, leaving Nikki with his thoughts for companionship in the small dressing room. He never could figure out what it was about the gaunt guitarist that made him pay attention to what he said. It was true though - he did like Izzy, a lot.
Once he stopped and looked at the situation, he could really see the two of them together, maybe not permanently, but at least for a while. He still wanted to dominate the other musician. Yet he liked giving over the reins to him the other night. His mouth was wickedly talented. The Gunner’s guitarist was still an enigmatic challenge. That made Nikki hot.
“Mmm,” Nikki moaned, touching himself despite his better judgment. Laying his head against the cool leather couch, he strived to bring his brain back into the act of thinking about the relationship rationally. A wet tongue gliding over the shell of his ear prevented his brain from thinking and he shuddered under the heavy breath that tickled his neck. He moaned, enjoying being lulled into a soft blissful state. As the tongue moved down to his cheek, sucking softly, his eyes fluttered open.
“Hi, Nik.” The deep husky growl came inches from his face. Nikki’s eyes shot open. The raven-haired man chuckled arrogantly. “What, didn’t expect to see me?”
“Blackie.” Nikki shook his head. “How the fuck did you get in here? I mean, you’re in L.A. and this is…”
“And what did I tell you about asking so many questions.” Blackie scolded. He lightly traced long lines up and down Nikki’s chest. “Really, Nik, I thought you’d be more happy to see me. Especially since you’ve been calling me so much. You must be in bad shape if you’re stuck pleasuring yourself in your dressing room. What, isn’t the little guitarist putting out?”
“No it’s not that,” Nikki said frowning at the taunting rock star. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”
“You haven’t fucked him yet, have you?” Blackie searched his eyes with a wicked leer. “Oh Nikki, Nikki, Nikki. You have gotten soft, Nikki.” He dropped his hands as he shifted away on the couch, clicking his tongue. “And I’m sure you have no plan to conquer him and instead you want to get married and have a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence, three kids and a dog.”
“Who said anything about that shit!” Nikki hissed as he righted his shirt, trying to ignore Blackie’s ridiculing.
“It’s true though. You’re falling in love with that little guitarist.” Blackie crossed his legs as he settled himself on the arm of the couch. “That’s why you aren’t planning anything. You’re taking a back seat to his sweet mouth and charming sarcastic voice.”
“Shut up!” Nikki roared, kicking the lamp over as he rose to his feet. “I have a plan - it’s just going a little slower than I expected, because Izzy has a shattered past. You never had to deal with that with me.”
“Still blaming me for keeping you in my bed? I never made you love me. You did that on your own,” Blackie replied flatly. He stood up to his full height, crossing the room in one long fluid motion, catching the bassist’s chest as he thrust him back into the wall. Nikki glared and shoved his hand away, but Blackie pinned him once again.
“You can’t love him, Nikki. You know why?” A finger stroked his cheek, slowly causing a mixture of anger and pleasure to flush over the bassist’s cheeks. The taller man placed a tender kiss on his temple, earning a defiant stare. “Because you’re still in love with me.”
“Did you ever love me, Blackie?” Nikki asked as he willed his body to rebel against the familiar caress. Blackie’s eyes narrowed darkly.
A knock at the door stalled all movement.
“Open up, Nikki.”
Nikki knew that voice.