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

Rocket Queen Part 2

by SADIS 3 Reviews

“Yes! Oh my god, yes! Fuck me, Slash!” The blonde flung himself onto the bed....

Category: Guns n' Roses - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Romance - Characters:  - Published: 2013/06/16 - Updated: 2013/06/16 - 1789 words

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“You know… I think you’re a really hot bass player,” Slash purred, voice dropping to a husky whisper. His mattress slumped, as he leaned closer to the blonde. “I like watching you. The way you handle a guitar. I bet you could handle a guitarist in your hands real good, too.”

“Thanks.” The blonde beamed. “Um, do you mean… what I think you mean?”

“Yeah, babe, I do.” Slash’s plump lips peeled away, revealing a pearly white smile. Leaning closer, he placed his palm delicately on the other boy’s thigh.

“I’ve never done this before.” The voice soft, almost frightened, flinching back slightly.

“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I’ll be gentle. You’ll like it. I promise.” Slash’s hand grazed over the other’s thigh gently. The blonde squirmed slightly. “So how about it, baby? Want to give it a try?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes! Fuck me, Slash!” The blonde flung himself onto the bed, before quickly curling into a ball of hysterical laughter.

“Damn it, Steven, you’re not helping!” Slash smacked Steven’s head. The drummer fell to the floor with a thump. “You were the one who suggested role playing in the first place.”

“Hey, I was trying to help you.” Steven continued to laugh, then glared. “Besides, you were getting way too into it! Damn, fuck head, you know I don’t do that shit.”

“Whatever. This is a stupid idea.” Slash paced the room. “When he gets here, just tell him we found someone else.”

“But, we don’t have anyone else,” Steven said puzzled, “we can’t even find a singer in the land of bountiful glam rock singers. Hell, even Ratt found one.”

“Steven, just shut up, and tell him.”

“I don’t think I can do those things in that order.” Steven shook his head. Ignoring Slash, he beat his drumsticks on the worn out carpet of Slash’s room.

“Jesus Christ, Steven.” Slash exhaled, as he grabbed his bottle of Jack. Draining it slowly, he descended to his back. Casting the empty bottle aside, he spread his arms out at his sides. “I’m totally freaked, and I don’t have enough alcohol to help.”

“You could do some H.”

“You finished what Izzy left us.”

“I did?” Slash threw his arm over his face, blocking out the light and Steven. The doorbell rang.

“Just tell him we’re not interested anymore, Steven.” The doorbell rang. “Steven, answer the door.” The doorbell rang again. “Steven answer the…!” Rising up, he couldn’t find his friend anywhere. Steven was never that quiet, so how the hell did he sneak out of here? Sighing, Slash hurried up the stairs to the front door that had fallen quiet. No, he’s left, Slash thought running faster. Wind hit his face, as he yanked the door almost off the hinges.

Nobody was there. Slash stuck his head out, whipping his face from side to side. A tall blonde with drooped shoulders walked down the sidewalk, a guitar case weeping beside him. Slash waved his hands from the porch. Oh yeah, Slash, that’s great, he can’t see you! Nerves screamed at him to go back inside. No! Slash reached the bottom of his porch. Just say something, anything.

“H-Hey!” Slash froze, as the blonde turned. A cute energetic beam spread over Duff’s broad chin, lighting up his entire face, from his honey almond eyes to his bleach blonde hair.

“Hey man! I thought you weren’t home.” Slash couldn’t help but glance at those long, powerful legs bounding up to him. His mouth going dry as Duff came to stand in front of him. “How ya been?”

“Uh, good, good.” Slash nodded vigorously. Silence descended. Duff readjusted his hold on his guitar. A slice of silver light sparkled from his neck. Slash remembered the padlock, but not this one. A tiny cross clinked softly against the padlock. The small pendant looked like it was fashioned by amateur hands. Skilled, good hands - just inexperienced. The chain itself was a fine tightly woven rope that cascaded down his linear neck.

“So… can I still get that audition?” Duff beamed.

“Y-yeah.” Slash walked stiffly back to his house, stealing glances at Duff’s boots to make sure the guy didn’t walk away on those scandalously long legs.

Somehow they ended up in Slash’s room with Duff perched on his bed, merrily tuning his bass. Duff grinned, rocking slightly, as he noticed Slash staring at him.

“Sorry, man. I couldn’t do this on the bus ride over. My roommate got mugged the other day, so I didn’t want to chance someone swiping this off me, you know?”

“Oh, uh… yeah, no, it’s cool.” Slash shuffled his feet as Duff went back to work. Unsure of what else to do, Slash stared at Colin, wishing he were a snake. Snakes knew what they wanted, and took what they wanted easily.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Duff’s voice immediately bled into a deep throbbing low bass line he plucked with his fingers. Pounding and sexual, his hands drew across the strings baring an aggressively beautiful, low twang. Slash stood mesmerized, watching the bass player hammer out the chords.

Slash’s eyes moved from Duff’s hands to his mouth. Bright lips parted into a smirking oval. He shook his blonde hair letting it fly around his head, as he leaned over his guitar pushing the neck forward. Duff pouted his lips out into a lopsided Sex Pistols sneer, hitting the last chord. The throbbing bass line vibrated over the airwaves.

“Hey, play that again!” Steven chirped from behind his drum kit. Duff grinned, picking the bass line up again. Drums and cymbals clanged into a solid throbbing beat, backing him up perfectly.

Steven chucked a spare drumstick at Slash. The guitarist rubbed his head, glaring at Steven. The blonde nodded at the lonely guitar beside Slash’s bed. Quickly slipping the strap over his chest, Slash picked up the musical thread. The sound hardened into unrefined thunder, despite the joy emitting from the three musicians.

“That was hot,” Steven announced, leaping up from behind his drum kit, stretching his limbs. “I vote ‘yes’, but I’m going to split. Later, blondie! Bye, Slashie!”

“Slashie?” Duff smirked.

“Yeah, Steven’s one for nicknames and shit,” Slash explained in his normal voice. I should hold my guitar all the time. It gives me magical powers so I can speak, Slash thought.

“So what’s your vote?”

Slash blinked, then smiled. “Welcome to Road Crew, Duff.”

“Fucking awesome, man!” Duff said, throwing his arms around Slash’s shoulders. “This is gonna be great. I’ll try and book us some gigs and stuff.”

“Well, we still need to find a singer.”

“Hey, my roommate sings. He wasn’t feeling well today, but I’ll be sure to bring him next time. He’s got a great fucking voice.”

“Cool. So, uh, you wanna keep jamming, or just… hang out?”

“Both. Besides, we’re going to be playing together and shit, so I’d like to get to know you.” Duff smiled, as Slash’s grin widened. “So you from L.A.?”

“No. I was born in the UK, but moved here when I was still young. I have an awesome dirt bike, but I like my guitar better.” Duff nodded listening to Slash’s slightly rushed soft voice. “Steven and I got this band going, you know, and we want to be rock stars one day. He’s kind of a live wire from time to time, but he’s a good guy. And he’s a totally kicks ass drummer and oh, I have to show you this!” Slash dashed over to his bed grabbing a yellow mahogany Spanish acoustic guitar. He tucked his legs under him as he leapt down to the floor beside Duff sitting cross-legged. “This was my first guitar ever. It only had one string on it when I got it, but I paid for it. Then this guy at the music store showed me how to put the others on and then I never gave my Mum a moment’s peace. I played her for hours.” He patted the Les Paul he had been playing with earlier. “I got this sweet child from my Mom last Christmas. It’s a Les Paul. I love them both, but, oh… sorry.”

“Naw, man. I told you I wanted to know more about you. I was listening and you obviously love your guitars. I think I should be jealous.” Slash didn’t know whether to jump up and down, or wish for death. Maybe both?

“I do want to know about you,” Slash said, moving his fingers absently over his guitar. “Like what music do you listen to, where you’re from and stuff.”

“I’m a Seattle punk. Basically grew up on the Sex Pistols, Ramones circuit, you know? I’ve been in several bands like The Fartz, but I moved here to get away from all the drugs back home.”

“You like it here?” Slash asked.

“Yeah, it’s cool. Enjoying that it doesn’t rain as much, like back home.”

“Yeah, sunny skies for beautiful sunny hairdos like yours.” Slash choked on his sentence when Duff shifted back. “Sorry.”

“Ha, don’t be.” Duff shook his head, laughing lightly, letting his blonde tresses fall into his eyes. “I know I’m blonde.”

Slash’s face disappeared under his curls again, clutching his magical guitar closer to his chest. A warm hand snuck under the curtain, gently clasping Slash’s chin.

“Why do you do that? Why do you always hide behind your hair like that?” Duff asked, drawing Slash’s face up, letting the black hair fall away. “You’re not ugly, man. You got bad teeth?” He pushed his thumb against the corner of Slash’s lips. Slash’s lips pulled away into an amused grin. “Nope, so why do you hide?”

“Don’t know,” Slash whispered, shrugging. The rising heat from the pads of Duff’s thumbs felt good on his skin.

“You shouldn’t. You have pretty eyes.” Slash drew closer, gazing into Duff’s bright smile.

“Hey, rocker boys, let’s go get stoned!” Steven yelled, appearing out of nowhere.

“Duff doesn’t do that shit, man.”

“Oh,” Steven said then smiled. “Then let’s go get drunk!”

“That I do, do.” Duff’s grin matched Steven’s in size.

“Yeah! Celebration for Duff’s arrival into the band!” Steven announced with a harsh clang of cymbals.
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