Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Concrete Jungle Gym

Rocker Roller (In the Rainbow's Parking Lot)

by SADIS 4 reviews

“Awesome. Now, who the hell do I remind you of?” “What?” “You’re staring at me like I’m a piece of meat. An old boyfriend?” Izzy’s eyes narrowed at Chris, who waved dismissively. ...

Category: Guns n' Roses - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Crossover - Published: 2013-05-11 - 4284 words

3Exciting
“How the fuck aren’t you cold?” Tracii hissed, pulling his sleeveless denim vest around his bare skin. Glaring at Izzy who strolled nonchalantly beside him. Izzy laconically returned the gaze.

“I don’t feel compelled to show off my tits like you do.” Izzy’s lips curled up in a smirk around his cigarette. Tracii wrinkled his nose, arms slipping around Izzy’s waist. Cold fingers tickled Izzy’s hips and sides. Izzy grinned and squirmed out of his reach.

“Then why don’t you be fucking nice for once, and warm up your cold friend?” Guitar calloused hands cupped Izzy’s face, gently sweeping over his prominent cheekbones. Izzy leaned into the touch, enjoying the sensual pressure on his wind-chapped cheeks. His lips twitched into a playful devil may care smile.

“Is that all you are?” Izzy purred deep in his throat, easing himself against the wiry man. “A friend?” He inhaled Tracii’s scent, paint from his day job, cigarettes and their pre-going out sex. Because I thought you wanted more from me when I came to your latest fuck’s place and you sucked me off on the floor.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Stradlin?” Tracii asked as he wiggled against Izzy’s denim jacket, relishing in the deep hard breaths rising and falling against his own. A tongue slipped from between his pursed pink lips to lick up Izzy’s neck, ending with a pointed kiss on his chin. Tracii drew away to tease him, but he was swiftly yanked back into Izzy’s chest, arms encasing him in a forceful embrace.

“No,” Izzy said. Tracii’s mouth twitched into a confused lopsided smirk as Izzy continued to whisper huskily, “I’m demanding you to suck me off, right now.”

“Ah,” Tracii sighed. “Unfortunately darling, I have a friend you need to meet, but maybe after.” He winked.

“Then, I don’t want anything to do with you,” Izzy said, pushing the guitarist away, but letting his arms languidly drag along Tracii’s taught bare tummy.

“Hey, come on. I just got you back, and you’re dumping me, because I won’t drop to my knees, and blow you in the middle of the Rainbow’s parking lot!”

“Yes, exactly,” Izzy replied off handily. Tracii’s jaw dropped, staring blankly. Izzy turned. Primal heat flickered in his eyes, as he looked at the pouty lips set in a hard line, glaring at him with desperation. He smiled playfully. “Not cold anymore are you?”
Blinking Tracii realized it was all a joke, the chill in his body long gone. Izzy laughed hysterically.

“You’re an asshole,” Tracii muttered. Izzy grinned, flicking away his cigarette, before drawing the smaller man into his body. He nipped Tracii’s cheek, causing the other to wrinkle his nose in mock disgust.

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad.”

“That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to saying I love you, darling,” Tracii cooed lovingly. He wiggled out of the snickering guitarist’s warm arms. “But don’t go getting all mushy on me now, Stradlin. You just have some damn kink for angry bottoms.”

“Hey, Trace.” A strong voice yelled from across the parking lot. Tracii planted a kiss on Izzy’s cheek before taking off across the pavement, nearly losing his vest.

“Hey, Chris,” Tracii yelled, and hugged his friend.

Izzy’s eyes roamed the blonde’s body. His torso was a broad chiseled shape, flowing up into a firm defined chest beneath his white t-shirt and pink leather jacket. Blazing white hair, teased high, accented with large gold bangle earrings. A glittery purple scarf draped over his neck led Izzy’s eyes down to black leather pants and high heeled boots.

Izzy cocked his head. There was something captivating about the way he looked, but he wasn’t going to trust him right off the bat. What did intrigue Izzy most was the guitar strapped to the guy’s back. He wanted it. He wanted to steal it.

“Chris, this is my…hmm, what do you call him? He was my boyfriend. Then we weren’t. Then we were. Now… Now, I’m not so sure. Hmm. He is a person I believe. Person I know? Yeah, person I know, because he has a hang up over labels. Izzy Stradlin. Izzy, Chris Weber,” Tracii introduced the pair.

“What’s up, dude?” Chris extended a hand. Izzy’s mouth hardened into a firm line, shifting back slightly from the outstretched hand.

“Izz, man, come on. Chris is cool. Don’t get all closed off, like you always do, when I introduce you to my friends,” Tracii whined at Izzy’s typical surly demeanor when meeting new people. Izzy’s glare locked onto Tracii, who just sighed. “So, I thought you two ought to meet, because you’re the best musicians, song writers I know. Thought some sparks would fly. You guys would start a band. Write a number one song, make lots of money, and give me a cut of the profits. What the fuck ever, I’m going to get laid.”

“So, what do you play, or do you sing?” Chris asked as they watched Tracii strut over to a group of leather-clad girls.

“I don’t…” Izzy snapped, but softened when he saw the slight shock in Chris’s eyes. “…sing. I don’t sing.”

Chris nodded, drawing the guitar from his back. Izzy’s attention snapped immediately to the instrument. It was nice. New. Izzy wanted it. The blonde’s leather cuffed fingers glided over the strings playing a fast, hard, and heavy riff. Izzy blinked in surprise. Swaying forward slightly, he watched the shaggy blonde hair bob bang in the dark. A tiny red tongue absently flicked to the corner of Chris’s mouth in concentration.

His passion, it’s so much like him, Izzy thought, it’s the dedication to the music, the energy, and the sheer recklessness. He heard it all in the wail of Chris’s guitar. Only one other person he had ever met, had ever excited Izzy in that way before. Yet, Izzy had left that person behind in another realm of the cruel world. That soul might be lost in the wilderness of grain and mountains, of machinery, with only a cross to guide him.

A small audience of girls clapped as Chris ended his rift, drawing Izzy from his thoughts. Chris flashed them a grin and saluted them. Some giggled others walked closer. The boldest stroked his shoulder.

“Are you in a band?”

“Not at the moment,” Chris said to the brunette who smiled up at him.

“You should be. You’re like totally amazing,” the brunette responded.

“Definitely!” Her friend added.

Finally realizing Chris had long finished his impromptu and unannounced audition, Izzy grabbed him by the arm and towed him away from the crowd. Some of the girls followed, other just left complaining about boys being too pretty for their own good. Once out of ear shot of most of them Izzy said, “We’re going to write together.”

The blonde smiled at Izzy’s decisive tone.

“Cool, man. Izzy, is it?”

“Yeah, or Jeff.”

“You look more like a Jeff. Want to get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

“Should we bother looking for Tracii?” Chris asked, glancing around. The group of women had disappeared as well as the bohemian guitarist.

“Naw.” Izzy shook his head. “He has an uncanny habit of finding me, whenever he needs something.”

“Sounds like trouble follows you a lot,” Chris said, leaning over to open the passenger side of his Chevy.

“Not the kind of trouble I want,” Izzy mumbled, shaking his head. Briefly his thoughts flickered to Indiana.

Chris drove fast and reckless. Izzy liked it. Reminded him of when he first met Tracii. He was a young, hot piece of ass. Izzy was drunk enough to let his walls done along with Tracii’s coaxing. Then Tracii started coming around more and Izzy liked that even more. He was like a drug. He started wanting Tracii more and more every time he left. The guitarist helped coax him out of the remaining shackles of his youth, and into his true identity in the wilds of California. The excitement, the rush, and then the long silver needle threading into his vein, it hit him like a train out of hell. Good and heavy, and sadly too temporary.
“So where you live?” Izzy yelled. The wind glowed neon as they breezed down the Strip.

“In a house on the outskirts of the city.” Chris quickly caught an exit to the Freeway. “You?”

“Tracii’s couch!” Izzy yelled back.

Izzy nodded, leaning to crank up the radio as AC/DC’s Highway to Hell came on. Chris smirked. He swerved to change lanes and narrowly missed a larger car. Izzy sat unfazed in the passenger’s seat.

“You don’t scare easy.” Chris observed.

“Death isn’t the scariest thing in this world.”
“Only when you don’t love something enough to risk losing it,” Chris replied.
Izzy froze, staring at the blonde. Chris only shrugged one shoulder as he got off at the right exit for Tracii’s house. “Not the night for deep shit then. Sorry. Hell, you’re worth more alive than dead to me. We might actually make something of ourselves if we get in the pocket.”

Izzy studied Chris. He pointed to a one-story ranch style house as they drove along the suburban street. Chris gave a short laugh.

“So you really have already moved in with Tracii, huh?” Chris asked, turning off the engine. He leapt across Izzy’s lap and over the car door. “I’m surprised the guy hasn’t proposed to you yet.”

“He said anytime I needed a place. Besides, we’re rarely here when we’re performing our marital duties.”

“That’s so sweet,” Chris mused, pulling his guitar from the back seat. “You actually go somewhere else to fuck, so his Mom won’t have to hear.”

“More like he’s incapable of being quiet during sex,” Izzy shot back, then glared. “Man, I’m not sweet. Shit, you make me sound like a chick.”

“You’d look good with blue in your hair, though.” Chris walked up the moonlit grey sidewalk. Bright green weeds crawled up onto the pavement, through the tiny cracks that choked the concrete of its intended completion.

“I’ll be sure to start growing blue hair tomorrow.”

“No need. We can do it ourselves.” Chris chucked a bottle of blue hair dye at him. Izzy’s jaw dropped. Chris laughed. “Dude, you didn’t think my hair is naturally Barbie white, did you?”

Izzy just smiled, fingering the beads on his necklace until he found the one that jutted out just the tiniest bit. Jiggling it in the lock until he heard a muffled rattle. Quickly tapping the knob, the lock snapped, and the door fell open. The rockers moved into the quaint cave-like living room. Though small, the place was warm and sheltered the wind burned musicians. The house had become a fortress, barren of the drugs and liquor littering the Strip’s nightscape. Tracii’s room was another story, but Izzy tried to sleep on the couch and fold the blankets every morning. He didn’t want to be a total leach.

“Lost your key?” Chris asked bemused as they walked into the house. The familiar soft musky smell flooded his nostrils as he walked further into the room. Pictures of Tracii when he was younger lined the walls. Butt naked with a wide happy grin on his face as he ran around the yard and played air guitar.

An unlit tarnishing silver menorah perched atop a laced doily over the piano. Beside it a photo album of black and white photographs laid open to a page where a young boy wearing a Yamaka stood in a black tux holding a girl’s hand. She was wearing a white hippie dress with a flower crown amongst her flaxen hair. Chris smiled recognizing Tracii’s parents and continued to the oversized furniture in the center of the living room.

“Usually Tracii just leaves the window open, but he forgot tonight because he was all over me,” Izzy said with a smirk. He looked over the bottle of hair dye. Chris nodded as he slid down into an armchair and started tuning his guitar. Izzy grabbed his own guitar, readying to join Chris. He had “window-shopped” his ax sometime ago when he was out with Steven. The blonde had perfectly distracted the male employees at the music store and Izzy slid it into the empty case he had brought with him.

Izzy stroked out gritty notes, to accompany Chris’s salacious slides. Chris glanced at Izzy, smiling knowingly under his hair. His fingers sped up, stroking every whine and thrust out of his guitar. Izzy matched Chris’s pace with his own pulsating tempo, but with slower flicks of his wrist.

Izzy’s head thrashed from side to side. Falling to his back, he thumped his boot hard against the floor in time with the beat. Chris rose to his feet, hovering over Izzy. Their musical bond formed and grew stronger with each chord that wailed in the air.

“Rocker, roller!” Chris yelled.

“You know who we are!” Izzy sang back. They continued to sing random bits of lyrics while dueling and pushing the other into harder grinds and power slides. Both musicians drifted away from the hellish world, only to be born again in music.

“Rocker, roller, yeah!” Chris ended the jam session collapsing in the armchair. Beads of sweat dripped down their faces. A dull thud pounded against the door. Izzy laughed between gasps, jaw opening in a wide smile. He hadn’t had a rush like that since…

“Rocker, roller…” Chris panted, slinking off the armchair and onto Izzy’s pulsating body. “We’ll need more lyrics, but it’s a slick start man. And you know, you sing like a hard rock version of Bob?”

“You’d better be talking Dylan, man.”

“You know of another Bob, who rocks that you sound like?” Chris teased.

Izzy stared at him. The way the music flew from his fingers as if he were born to do it. Izzy never thought he’d find someone that connected to the music again. It was exactly the same in his garage back home. He remembered watching William’s bruised lips sing powerfully with a heavenly pitch and a beautiful range to match. It was so hot to watch his lips sensually sing each syllable into the mock microphone.

“So you want to start a band?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Awesome. Now, who the hell do I remind you of?”

“What?”

“You’re staring at me like I’m a piece of meat. An old boyfriend?” Izzy’s eyes narrowed at Chris, who waved dismissively. “Tracii said you’re still getting used to saying you’re gay.”
“Bi,” Izzy shot back defensively. Chris gazed simply at him. Izzy sighed, “I’m from Indiana. That kind of shit didn’t fly too well back there.”

“Then fuck the label. You know who you are, and whoever the right person is go get ‘em. But I’m straight, so don’t pick me.”

Izzy cocked his head at Chris’s smile. There wasn’t a trace of mockery in his face and he was drumming his fingers on Izzy’s abdomen. “You’re not normal.”

“I’m friend with Tracii. What does that tell you about my level of sanity?” Chris asked with a laugh. “Fuck, man, this is California. We have a whole neighborhood dedicated to that shit. But what the fuck ever, man. I just want to rock.”

“You do remind me a lot of him though.”

“Who was he?”

“He was a friend back in Lafayette, but I wanted him to be more than that. I just never really told him, or he didn’t want me the same way. I don’t really know. He had a passion for music and a voice like an angel. It’s the same fire I saw in you…it was all fucked up. I left. We parted on bad terms.”

“That’s the way that love shit always is,” Chris said thoughtfully after a long pause. “Is that what attracted you to Tracii?”

“We hooked up in the Troubadour, one of my first nights after I moved to L.A. He gives great blowjobs, you know. Well, I guess you don’t, but after he did that, I guess it all clicked. I am a fucking gay, or bi-sexual asshole, and I was in love with my religious, crusade-leading, friend.”

“You’re not just using Tracii as a replacement, are you? I realize the kid is fucking hot, and I’ve heard he’s a freak in the sack, but I don’t ever want to see him hurt.”
Izzy peered at the blonde. His voice had taken on a hard edge though it was well masked by his friendly tone.

“No. After what I’ve been through, I would never put someone through that. I was honest with Tracii, and he said he didn’t care. We’re more or less an on again off again kind of thing. That’s why I didn’t freak out when he went off after those girls. He gives me room to experience things, and I let him have his women when he wants them. We don’t attach strings to us.”

“Okay,” Chris said with a nod, seeming to be pleased with that response. “So we’re going to start a band, right? We need a drummer, a bass player and a singer. Tracii plays.”

“I don’t think he’s going to want to play bass.” Izzy grinned.

“Fine. I’ll play...”

“No!” Izzy yelled before Chris could finish his statement. Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “The way you play it fits my guitar and…I don’t want to screw you or anything.”

“Hey man, I’m not worried. You want rhythm or lead then?”

“I’ve loved rhythm since I played in Shire. I can focus more on writing.”

“Cool. I think I know a drummer, and bassists aren’t usually the brightest crayon in the world, so they shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Just need to raid a church for a choir boy to sing for us.” Izzy chewed on his extinguishing cigarette.

“Got a lot of those too. Shouldn’t be too hard.” Chris clapped his shoulder, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. “So you really live here.”

“I sleep on Tracii’s couch.” Izzy shrugged.

“That must be hard on your back.”

“Naw. I sneak into Tracii’s room when his mom and dad fall asleep. Usually, they know that I do and don’t care. One time, his mom made me sleep with Tracii.”

“I thought you said you didn’t fuck when she was in the house.”

“We don’t. We sleep. Just in the same bed.”

““Man, just live with me.”

“Why?”

“Well duh, if we’re going to start writing together, we’d better start getting to know each other. Now, get your shit together.”

“Okay, I’m ready.” Izzy stood with his guitar.

“You travel light.” Chris laughed.

“I want to dye my hair blue,” Izzy said with a sly smile.

“Fuck yeah!” Chris yelled.

“Wait,” Izzy said suddenly, making Chris pause. “I should wait and tell Tracii.”

“Okay,” Chris said, frowning slightly perplexed.

“I don’t want to just leave him. We’re on-again.”

“Ah, so he is your boyfriend,” Chris teased. He nodded. “Okay, dude. We’ll hang out here until he gets home, but you know that might be a while if you turned him loose on the ladies.”

Izzy just shrugged and lit another cigarette.


Tracii waved to the girls as they drove down his street. He felt good and strong after their fun time in the boy’s room. As he unlocked the door, his mind drifted back to Izzy and it made him feel lighter than air. Izzy wanted him back as his boyfriend again. He loved Izzy more than any other long-term hook up he’d ever had before. He just hoped Izzy was serious this time. Tracii wanted to give himself fully to Izzy, but he just wasn’t sure if Izzy was ready to have all of him.

Not bothering with the lights, he tripped over two hard bodies. Groans and even more moans came from the floor as he flicked on the lights. Izzy and Chris lay in a tangle of limbs and guitars. Tracii smiled, snickering slightly at the cuteness of the cuddly music partners. Chris was the perfect match for Izzy too. He was the one guy on the Strip Tracii fully trusted to not steal Izzy awake.

“Fucking turn the light out, bitch,” Chris grumbled, and buried his head deeper into Izzy’s side.

Izzy peeked out of one cracked eyelid. Seeing Tracii, he laid his arm to the side and gestured with his finger. “Come on. There’s room for your pretty ass, cowboy.”

Tracii’s face lit up as he flipped the switch and slid into Izzy’s welcoming body. He loved the way Izzy’s arm curled around him, holding him securely. His eyes instantly felt heavy as his body relaxed into Izzy’s. He never wanted to leave this spot. With a little luck he would never have to.



Jeff continued his rhythmic tempo matching Axl’s aggressive vocal chords with every exaggerated movement of his arms. Cymbals clanked and rattled as the snare beats increased in time with every reverberating note.

“Yeah!” William’s growl drew out long, as he finished the song. Flashing Jeff a smile, he put down the hammer he used as a microphone. “That’s fucking awesome, man!”

“Yeah, you got a good voice,” Jeff said.

“Have you always played drums that good?”

“My grandma taught me. She was a drummer in a swing band.”

“That’s cool.” William nodded, stretching his arms long.

“Hey, you’re not wincing anymore,” Jeff observed.

William stared at him for a minute. “You’re right. I’m not. Thanks Jeff.” He smiled then showing his teeth. They glowed against his cherry lips.

“Happy to help.” Jeff smiled.

“I want to thank you. I mean, really, thank you.” William moved closer to the flushed musician. Jeff’s breath caught as William crawled into his lap. Arms lacing around his head, bruised lips planted petal soft kisses on his. Jeff remained stoic, not wanting to pierce the cut skin and bloody them anymore than they already were.

William smiled, as he arched his neck. Sun red hair cascaded away from his unblemished neck. Jeff leaned in, burying his nose in the delicate skin. Smiling against it, he inhaled the other boy’s scent before his tongue peeked out and slowly started to lick. William moaned, arching into his torso. Jeff continued to lap at the pearly skin, his arms massaging William’s shoulders tenderly.

“Thank you, Izzy.”

Jeff jerked back, hitting his head against the wall. What had William called him? William grinned. “But you know this isn’t how it went, so wake up Izzy. Izzy, Izzy…”

William drifted backwards from his arms, leaving Jeff with an unpleasant rush of cold air that sank into his bones. William stopped mid air as the familiar Bailey house encapsulated his ghostly body.

Lunging to his feet, Jeff charged the door. He pounded hard and fast, begging desperately for William to come out, but William didn’t seem to hear him. He didn’t see him when Jeff looked in the window. The red head just smiled as he gazed out the window to look at a pleasant Midwest sunrise. William’s emerald eyes boring right through and past Jeffrey.
“I’m sorry,” Jeff whispered. Fingers pressed against the glass, as he saw the faint scar line on William’s cheek reflected in the warm light.

The voice started again. The frightened voice from the first night started chanting in his head frantically like a hurt spirit, “Izzy, Izzy, Izzy…”

“Man, wake up!”

Izzy bolted upright, hitting his head against Chris’s nose.

“Fuck, dude,” Chris said, clutching his nose. He shook his head. “You okay? I’ve never seen someone have such an intense dream.”

“Sorry, man.” His eyes drifted to the dark bedroom window. No matter what window he looked out of, the endless night was the same, bleak and bitter. The dream had attached itself to his waking mind long ago. He avoided windows for a long time after he’d experienced it. It was the first time he had that dream in a long time, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. A haunting melancholy fell over him. Where are you, Bill? He called silently into the endless night.

Chris lit a cigarette, handing it to Izzy. “You want to talk about it?”

“I just want to forget,” Izzy mumbled taking a long drag off the cigarette.

“Want to write a song?”

Izzy gave the tiniest smile. “Yeah.”

“Well, then get the fuck up. I’m not carrying your fat ass.” Chris gave a lopsided smirk, clapping Izzy on the shoulder. Relief fell over Izzy’s anxious bones as he threw his legs over the side of the bed. He looked down at the vacant bed. Maybe I should give Tracii a call.
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