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 - Published: 2013-06-16 - 2094 words

3Ambiance
“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. “I like watching you. The way you handle an ax really turns me on. 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, flinched 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, but that only made him laugh harder and louder. “You were the one who suggested role playing in the first place.”

“Hey, I was trying to help you,” Steven said, gasping for air between his guffaws. Then his expression turned hard. “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 rock wannabes. Hell, even Ratt found one. Ugly as fuck, but he still can sing in tune. Mostly.”

“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. He drained it slowly as he lay on his back. Casting the empty bottle aside, he spread his arms out at his sides. “I’m totally freaked out, and I don’t have enough alcohol to help.”
“You could do some H.”

“You finished what Izzy left us.”

“I did?” Steven asked completely clueless.

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 is 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. Oh no, he left!, Slash thought, running faster. A rush of wind hit his face, as he yanked the door open almost breaking it from its hinges.

Nobody was there. Slash stuck his head out, whipping his face from side to side and pushing his obnoxious curls from his face. A tall blonde with drooped shoulders walked down the sidewalk, a guitar case wept beside him. Slash waved his hands from the porch. Oh yeah, Slash, that’s great. Wave to him when 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 stare at those long, powerful and slender legs as he bounded up the path to him. Slash’s mouth went dry as Duff came to stand in front of him. “How ya been?”

“Uh, good, good.” Slash nodded vigorously as his tongue tripped over his words.
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 new necklace clinked softly against the padlock. The small pendant was a miniature crucifix. It looked like it was fashioned by amateur hands, skilled, good hands but inexperienced. The chain itself was a fine tightly woven rope of silver that cascaded down his linear neck.

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

"Your hair isn't blue!" Slash exclaimed as his eyes traveled up Duff’s neck to his face.
Duff laughed, scratching his blonde tresses. "Naw, man I change it every two weeks or so."
"So, is that your natural color?" Slash secretly prayed it was or that Duff would at least leave it blonde for a while. He had a thing for blondes and this color made Duff look even more fuckable. If that were possible in Slash’s fantasy.

"Want to find out?" Duff asked mischievously.

Slash hid behind his hair, shifting back and forth on his feet.

"I'm kidding dude," Duff slapped his arm playfully.

"Oh." Slash's hair covered even more of his face. "Uh, let's audition you."

Slash walked stiffly back to his house, worrying he screwed things up with Duff. Maybe he’s straight? He wondered as he stole glances at Duff’s boots to make sure duff didn’t walk away on those scandalous 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. That’s sucks though.” 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 as he watched Slash watching him. 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 into a lopsided Sex Pistols sneer as he struck 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 small 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 as joy radiated 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?” Duff challenged him curiously.

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 as he listened to Slash’s slightly rushed soft voice as he rambled on about his life. “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 kick-ass drummer, and, oh, I have to show you this!” Slash dashed over to his bed and grabbed 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 this girl for hours.” He patted the Les Paul he had been playing with earlier. “I got this sweet child from my Mum 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.” Duff winked and gave a sly smirk.
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? And where you’re from and stuff.”

“I’m a Seattle punk. Basically grew up on the Sex Pistols, Ramones, West Coast Punk 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 laughed lightly, letting his blonde tresses fall into his eyes. “I know I’m blonde today.”

Slash laughed, but his face disappeared under his curls again. He clutched his magical guitar closer to his chest, wishing he could say the right thing. He wished even harder he could be wittier. A warm hand snuck under the curtain and gently clasped 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. “N-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,” Duff said, causing Slash to draw closer. He looked straight 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.

Slash vaguely wondered why Steven came back when he said he had to leave but in a weird way he was glad he did come back. He’d make it less awkward being around Duff, and Slash could learn more about the bassist.
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