Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses
It doesn't mean anything, Slash told himself as Duff slammed into him again and again, the taller man's blond hair brushing Slash's coffee-colored skin. It's just another way for us to get off.
Ever since Izzy had left Guns--and, consequently, Duff--the bassist had been lonely and deprived of anything like a real relationship. His jealousy of Slash and Axl and their stable, steady love for each other was obvious in every gaze he sent them under hooded, hazel eyes. Slash knew Duff wanted him but he didn't care--Axl was all he'd ever needed.
But then, in early 1996, Axl had started being a complete asshole towards Slash, and the guitarist was getting fed up. Sick of fighting and restless jerking off to memories of happier times, he'd gone to Duff and offered what the bassist had always desired. Now, six months later, they were still fucking, and not even in secret, ever since Axl had caught them and kicked them both out of the band--but Slash was sick of this, too. As Duff's fingers wrapped around him, he thought of a time when he, Axl, Duff, and Izzy had gone to the Pacific Ocean, in 1986. They'd barbequed chicken and drank a few beers; watched the sun set. Afterwards, wrapped up in Axl's arms, Slash had murmured, "I will love you forever, Axe."
"Until we die," Axl had promised, nodding and slipping his warm, wet tongue into the hollow of Slash's neck.
We were young, Slash thought, grabbing at Duff's hair as he rode him. People change.
But they hadn't had to. They could have stayed the same: rare, stunning, dangerous. But somewhere along the way, they'd lost themselves, and it was too hard--impossible, now--to try and pick up the pieces.
Duff climaxed hard, screaming Slash's name, and the guitarist joined him a moment later, crying Duff! but thinking Oh, Axl...!
That hurt look in his singer's green eyes had been more than enough to send Slash into a spasm of guilt. But hurt turned to anger, and now Slash was jobless, loveless, depressed. Is this what you wanted, Duff? To get me as sad as you? We're all lonely now, McKagan. Are you happy?
Duff wrapped himself around Slash.
"This has to stop," Slash whispered, but the bassist, already asleep, didn't hear him.
Tears spilling down his cheeks, resigning himself to a lifetime of nothing but memories and false love, Slash shut his eyes, sent out a silent apology to his singer, and fell asleep, once again, in the wrong man's arms.
Ever since Izzy had left Guns--and, consequently, Duff--the bassist had been lonely and deprived of anything like a real relationship. His jealousy of Slash and Axl and their stable, steady love for each other was obvious in every gaze he sent them under hooded, hazel eyes. Slash knew Duff wanted him but he didn't care--Axl was all he'd ever needed.
But then, in early 1996, Axl had started being a complete asshole towards Slash, and the guitarist was getting fed up. Sick of fighting and restless jerking off to memories of happier times, he'd gone to Duff and offered what the bassist had always desired. Now, six months later, they were still fucking, and not even in secret, ever since Axl had caught them and kicked them both out of the band--but Slash was sick of this, too. As Duff's fingers wrapped around him, he thought of a time when he, Axl, Duff, and Izzy had gone to the Pacific Ocean, in 1986. They'd barbequed chicken and drank a few beers; watched the sun set. Afterwards, wrapped up in Axl's arms, Slash had murmured, "I will love you forever, Axe."
"Until we die," Axl had promised, nodding and slipping his warm, wet tongue into the hollow of Slash's neck.
We were young, Slash thought, grabbing at Duff's hair as he rode him. People change.
But they hadn't had to. They could have stayed the same: rare, stunning, dangerous. But somewhere along the way, they'd lost themselves, and it was too hard--impossible, now--to try and pick up the pieces.
Duff climaxed hard, screaming Slash's name, and the guitarist joined him a moment later, crying Duff! but thinking Oh, Axl...!
That hurt look in his singer's green eyes had been more than enough to send Slash into a spasm of guilt. But hurt turned to anger, and now Slash was jobless, loveless, depressed. Is this what you wanted, Duff? To get me as sad as you? We're all lonely now, McKagan. Are you happy?
Duff wrapped himself around Slash.
"This has to stop," Slash whispered, but the bassist, already asleep, didn't hear him.
Tears spilling down his cheeks, resigning himself to a lifetime of nothing but memories and false love, Slash shut his eyes, sent out a silent apology to his singer, and fell asleep, once again, in the wrong man's arms.
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