FicWad

The bottle of Jack was becoming steadily more empty, each swig washing another memory away. The redhead didn't know where the money had come from, probably some illicit activity of Izzy's. All Axl knew was that he'd dipped into the sleeping brunette's pocket and fished out a substantial roll of banknotes.

And we're living in poverty and squalor while you feed your junkie habit, you fuckin' loser!

The memories he wanted to see gone, if not forever then at least for the moment, were the ones that haunted his dreams every night. His step-father, the brutal asshole that he was, laying his hand to the fiery red-head's pale flesh night after night. The beatings and the rapes, the screaming matches of how he was a worthless asshole who would amount to nothing. It was why he'd run, hitching lifts and riding buses across the country to hitch up with the one person he knew would protect him.

The person who was now in a drug induced stupor in the grotty room they called home.

Sighing, Axl lifted the bottle once more, watching the flashing coloured lights of the club dance merrily through the murky depths of the bottle. Swinging the oddly shaped bottle by its neck, Axl swivelled on his chair, gracefully lifting the bottle to his lips as he watched the band upon the stage.

A group of boys, probably not much younger than himself, banged away at a variety of instruments in a noise that Axl assumed was supposed to represent music. But, to his trained ears, it sounded like shoddy versions of whatever the boys owned in their record collections.

A drummer, all bouncing blonde hair and teeth, hammered away at a drum kit, while the singer nervously stood at a microphone stand. Towards the back, a dark skinned boy with crazy corkscrew hair, meticulously picked at a cheap, Les Paul knock-off. There were others, Axl was sure of it, but they seemed to fade into the background as his eyes settled on the lean, hairy monster and his carefully plucking fingers.

With the bottle forgotten between his fingers, Axl stared, lips pouting into a smile as he watched, entranced. Deep inside of him, within the murky depths of his brain, something chuckled. Placing the bottle back on the bar, the flame-haired man slid from the bar stool and walked among the smattering of patrons until he was standing before the low stage, sea-green eyes fixed on the waves of curls as he hunted out a face. Back and forth and back again; that was the movement the mop of black hair made, hiding everything beneath it. Yet, Axl was still intrigued, still wanted to know what lay beneath. He craned closer, not out of a desire to listen to the racket that was pumping through the speakers, but to find out what the slender guitar player looked like.

Finally, the music died only to be replaced by the static hum of quiet instruments. Still, Axl stood, knees pressed against the stage as he watched the larger than life guitarist lift his cheap axe over his head and cradle it to him for a moment, fingers looking over it as if it were his first born. The drummer, blonde hair bouncing around his face as he hopped and skipped over to Axl's new infatuation, laughed and screamed, arms linking around the curly haired boy and pulling him close, hugging him as he screamed in his ear. Axl could feel the rage rear up inside of him, clawing at his chest, screaming to be let out.

Back off blondie! it snarled. He's no longer yours.

The curls moved towards him, cocking to one side as eyes he couldn't see peered down at him. Grinning, Axl extended a hand upwards.

"Axl," he said, as his hand was gracefully taken and shook. "Loved your playin'. Fuckin' fantastic."

The mop of hair nodded once before a hand of long fingers reached to brush them away. Axl's grin widened as he took in the face that lay beneath. Dark, bottomless pits of eyes stared down at him, a nervous, almost childlike smile played on plump lips.

"Thanks," the face replied in a voice that was too quiet. "Slash."

The guitar was lovingly placed to one side, fingertips grazing over it one last time before dropping to the player's side. Axl watched as he turned to look at him, the serene smile and faraway look still present on the unlined face.

Gesturing towards the bar with a thumb, Axl asked, "Drink?"

Blackness descended as the waves of hair once more fell before the dark eyes and the man stepped from the stage, body stretching with a feline grace. Axl couldn't help but appreciatively watch as he walked back towards the bar, hair and hips flicking back and forth as the darkest primal instincts began to creep through his body.

Pulling himself back onto the bar stool, Axl snapped his fingers, two glasses appearing, as if my magic, by his side. His new friend, the one he now knew was called Slash, elegantly leaned on the bar, eyes, Axl could only assume, trained on him. So he smiled what he knew would be a friendly and trusting smile, one aimed at putting his prey at ease. Cigarettes appeared from nowhere and the filter was pushed amid the hair, hands patting pockets for a light. Axl's grin only widened as he reached for his own, snapping it open as he leaned in to touch the flame to the paper.

He was rewarded with a nod and a single word, "Thanks."

"So." Axl pushed a glass filled with Jack and the barest hint of coke towards the other man. "Tell me about yourself."


~~~~

The booze and conversation flowed freely; Axl drinking and Slash drinking and talking. The more liquor the guitarist consumed, the more fluid he became, his dreams, desires and personal details spilling forth. Soon enough, Axl was fairly sure he could have walked into any bank in the world and taken them for millions, all using what Slash had told him.

Draining his glass, Axl stretched and pushed the glass away from him. He slithered from the stool, green eyes sparkling as he gave Slash the scantiest of smirks.

"Bathroom break," he drawled, flicking a wrist as he turned tail towards the men's room.

Sauntering across the beer soaked floor, Axl cocked his head and peered over his shoulder, the smirk widening to a shit-eating grin as he realised that Slash had fallen for everything. Hook. Line. Sinker. Head lowered, the redhead quietly chuckled to himself as he manoeuvred into a stall. Locking the door, he leaned against it, waiting, listening.

Noises came and went; the sound of water trickling through pipes, music rumbling from the bar, the click-click of footsteps across old, cracked tiles. Inching his fingers down, Axl slowly turned the lock, opening the door a sliver.

In the stinking bathroom, Slash stood before a urinal, one hand on the wall as he steadied himself. Quietly, he mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he tried to free his eyes of rogue strands of hair. Never did he turn, never did he see the beady eye that hungrily ate him up.

As quiet as a whisper, Axl opened the door and stepped up behind Slash. His hand snaked up and around, clamping softly over the other's mouth.

"Don't struggle," he hissed, teeth snapping at a tender earlobe. "And you won't get hurt."

Eyes, darkened with a sudden fear, bore straight into Axl's, head shaking in the red-head's vice-like grip. Axl's smirk stayed in its place as he walked backwards, carefully retracing his steps. A tiny whimper escaped Slash's lips and he gave a small struggle, a struggle which earned him a clip around the side of the head. The whimper was replaced by a moan as Slash fell still in Axl's arms.

"Like I said," Axl quietly repeated. "Don't struggle and you won't get hurt."

Kicking the stall door shut, he let go of the curly-haired child-man, watching with dead eyes as he dropped to the floor, scared eyes turned to Axl as he rubbed his jaw. Brown eyes peered at him through the wild hair, terror etched into the smooth, coffee coloured face.

"W-What do y-you want?" the quiet, gentle voice asked.

Axl's lips never fell, keeping the evil grin in place. He ran a hand through his ragged red-hair, his other hand wrapping around his slender hip.

"You," he purred.

Eyes wide, Slash scuttled across the floor, backing himself into the tiny space between the toilet and wall.

"N-No..." he managed to whisper, tongue flicking out to dry cracking lips, a movement which sent a flicker of heated energy to Axl's groin.

Anger flashed through Axl's eyes; the guy was going to play hard to get. Not that he minded. He liked it when they played hard to get. It made the experience more... delicious. Crouching down, his hand shot out, grabbing at the dark, curly hair, wrenching, trying to pull the man away from his hidey-hole.

But Slash stayed put, letting out a low howl as hair was ripped from his scalp. Strong fingers wrapped around Axl's twig-thin wrist, pulling it away from Slash's head. The dark brown eyes were suddenly tainted with anger.

"Leave me the fuck alone," Slash's voice had dropped, becoming dry and husky.

Flicking his wrist, the dark skinned man pushed the hand away from him, head lowered as he glared at Axl.

Axl just glared back, pouting. "Oh, you wanna fight do you?"

"No." Slash shook his head, the hair hiding his face again. "I just wanna get out of here and away from you."

Placing his hands on the tiled wall, Slash heaved himself upwards, towering over the figure on the floor. Looking every inch like a praying mantis, Axl gazed up at him. Slowly, he pulled himself to his full five foot nine inches, shoulders hunched and fingers curling as he gave Slash a sidelong glance.

"Fine," he said with an air of nonchalance, turning on his heels as he did. "You go. I understand. You don't -" He flicked a wrist. "Swing that way."

Spinning back around, Axl threw a balled fist into the other man's face, rubbing his knuckles as Slash reeled back and slammed into the toilet. Stunned, the guitarist slumped onto the toilet, rubbing his bruised jaw.

"What the fuck?" he hissed as he struggled back to his feet, facing off to Axl. "Do you fuckin' get off on this, man?"

Axl nodded quickly, grinning. "Actually, I do."

In a blur, his arm moved, aimed once more for Slash. Pain shot through his shoulder as his arm was suddenly twisted up his back, his face pressed against the cheap wood of the stall.

"Well I don't." Warm, whisky soaked breath tickled his nose and Axl grinned, groin twitching.

With a final push against the smooth surface, Axl found himself free to go. He turned, watching as the bruised Slash exited the stall. The bitterness of rage and a failed conquest boiled his blood and Axl roared, grabbing at and dragging the young man back to the stall. Dark hair snapped between his fingers as the snarling red-head hauled him over the toilet, knee against Slash's back.

"Never!" he began loudly. "Ever defy me!"

The young musician shuddered and struggled beneath him, grunting and growling as he tried to free himself. A fist thudded into Axl's side, making him snarl and sink his teeth into the supple of flesh of Slash's throat. Straddling the other's bucking hips, Axl struggled, first with Slash's, and then his own zipper, pushing the tight, sweat-soaked denim to their ankles.

Beneath him, Slash jerked and squirmed, garbled words falling from his mouth as he tried to escape. Pressing a hand into the back of the curly head of hair, Axl forced Slash's face against the cool porcelain.

Curling his fingers into the soft curls, Axl hissed, "Shut it or I start breaking teeth." He nipped at Slash's ears. "Which would be a shame 'cause you have a real pretty face."

The body beneath him stilled momentarily before beginning to struggle once more. Screeching with rage, Axl slammed Slash's head against the tank, the sound of breaking teeth filling his ears. A muffled howl of pain quickly followed and Axl glanced down, heart swelling as he watched blood begin to dribble down the off-white ceramic. A conquest never seemed complete unless blood had been shed. The other person's preferably. Power and dominance; it was all just a game to Axl, a way to avenge the scars his father had torn deep into his soul.

Looking down at the trembling and bloody man beneath him, Axl let out a sigh. His grip never loosened on the subtly tanned hips, breath hitched as he guided his cock between the gentle swell of buttocks. An excited electricity danced through him as he gently stroked Slash's skin.

"Ever done this?" Axl quietly asked.

The curls shivered and a quiet, "No."

"You'll love it." Flicking his tongue out, Axl licked over the small, crescent teeth marks in Slash's skin.

His nails left bloody trails in their wake as he forced himself into Slash, feeding off the pained cries that left the other man's ruined mouth. The tight warmth of the other man's ass spasmed around his cock and Axl groaned, eyes slipping shut. Slash trembled beneath him, seemingly learning that holding still was best. Axl found himself shaking with Slash, goosebumps flashing across his skin as he began to slam into the pretty boy.

He knew he wouldn't last long; he never did with quick fucks like this. It wasn't that Axl was scared of being caught, that only added to the thrill. No, it was the build up, the stalking and thoughts that danced through his mind and finally the conquest itself. All of it drove Axl, building up like a pressure cooker deep within in him until it finally boiled over.

Grunting, he tore at Slash's hips, rocking back and forward, pushing in as deep as he could. Tiny, kitten-like, howls filled the stall but Axl couldn't hear them, lost in his own world, a world dominated by a red-hot cloud of pleasure. His cock throbbed inside the coffee-coloured man, the tight ball in his groin growing with each spasm of the muscles that were wrapped his length. Axl grinned to himself as he kept up the steady rhythm; this one had been a virgin. Had being the operative word.

Not any more, the voice chuckled in his head.

Grabbing at Slash's hair, Axl pulled on it, deepening the arch of his victim's back. Eyes, glazed with tears of frustration and pain, looked straight into Axl's. Axl knew what the other was feeling; he'd been through it himself and yet, he felt no remorse. There was no emotion, no regret, no pain. All that mattered to Axl was the sweetness of his orgasm.

He howled as that sweetness took over, thundering through him as he pushed one last time into Slash, cock pumping hot come deep into the other man's ass. The dark eyes that still locked onto his snapped open in shock, mouth forming into a shocked "O". Axl rocked a few more times, body and mind dull and hazy with pleasure.

Finally, with the adrenaline becoming a distant memory, Axl pulled out, letting Slash slither into a broken heap on the floor. Roughly, the red-head pulled his own jeans up, sneering as he looked down at the bloodied and battered man, bloody semen dripping from his still exposed ass. Hooking a foot beneath Slash's chiselled chin, Axl smirked as he looked down at him.

"You're mine now," he hissed, before dropping the hair covered face back to the dirty floor.

Hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, the smirking red-head wandered back out into the bar, his heel sending the stall door clattering shut on its silently sobbing occupant.

Command and conquer: that was all Axl lived for.