FicWad

It was different when they were younger - awkward fumbling in darkened bedrooms or the backseats of cars, clumsy teenage hands never quite sure where to go or what to touch. There was something about it, though, something exciting and new that made Slash and Steven feel so fucking alive. But things have changed, changed in ways neither of them could have imagined, and in the last few years everything’s gone downhill faster than a fucking runaway train.

Steven is curled up on his side when Slash comes in. With apparent difficulty, the drummer hauls himself into a sitting position and gives Slash a watery smile.
“Hey,” he says softly. Christ, it’s weird seeing Steven like this.
“Hey,” Slash replies. He strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed next to Steven, who shuffles closer to him.
I don’t know how to help you, Slash thinks as he combs his fingers through Steven’s woolly blond curls. I wish I did but I don’t know anything about this shit. I’m so sorry.
“Saul? Are you OK?”
The guitarist is snapped out of his reverie by the question. He looks down at Steven, who’s gazing up at him like a kicked puppy.
“I’m fine,” Slash replies. He forces a smile and kisses Steven gently on the forehead. Steven’s got a way of making you feel guilty about things that aren't even remotely your fault — it’s not necessarily deliberate, though. Well. Hopefully not.
“Is there something happening tomorrow?”
“We’re recording, Stevie.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“No-one told me.”
He’s gone, Slash thinks. He’s gone and he’s not coming back.
“We've been talking about it for a while now.”
“Saul?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you touch me?”
For a moment, Slash is in two minds about it, but then he sees the pleading look in Steven’s eyes and he understands that the request is about so much more than just sex. It’s about Steven being desperate for physical contact, for proof that Slash — that Saul still cares about him. Slash slips a hand down Steven’s boxers and wraps his hand around his half-hard cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. Steven inhales sharply and buries his face in Slash’s neck. For a few minutes, Slash is able to pretend that they’re sixteen again and they’re in Steven’s old bedroom and that everything’s fine. Steven starts thrusting into his hand, making soft gasping noises, and Slash pulls him closer. He moves his hand harder, faster, and then Steven’s climaxing and he’s whimpering and clinging to Slash like he’s his last hope in the world — and in some ways, he is.
“I love you, Saul.”
“Love you too, Stevie.”
Steven falls asleep in a matter of minutes; it takes Slash a lot longer. As he begins to drift away into blessed unconsciousness, he silently prays for things to go back to the way they were before — to when both of them were kids, ambitious and clueless teenagers without a care in the world, and no idea what the future would bring.