FicWad

February 1992

At times, he didn't know why he was still there.

Playing was natural — the guitar was so familiar he barely had to think, fingers moving on their own accord over the tight strings. In fact, if he thought too much about what he was doing, he might actually make a mistake. It was better to just trust his brain and hands and go with the flow.

The downside was... he ended up thinking.

Even through a haze of Jack Daniels and other substances, and through the loud music that was shaking Tokyo with the power of an earthquake... he could still think. And wonder. And watch.

Ever since Izzy left, Slash wondered what the hell he was doing there. He hadn't been too happy when Steven was fired, but he could understand; drugs had got in the way of music and they had to do something about it. However, when Izzy got up and just walked away, he began to visualise the crumbling of their conjoined dream right before his eyes.

Why am I still here?, he asked himself, while playing one of the solos of Estranged.

He was suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of Axl's voice, and rose his eyes to watch the singer run and prance around, filling the whole stage with his presence. That day he was wearing a kilt and a shirt that somehow matched it.

Anyone else in such clothes would look ridiculous, but Axl looked glorious. His long red hair flowing freely without the usual bandana, his face ever-changing with the emotions that each song awoke inside of him.

Glorious. Fuckin' gorgeous, Slash thought.

Watching Axl always helped him to remember why he chose to stay. And the sight of his singer, despite their many recent arguments, was enough to make his blood rush in his veins, hormones pumping like crazy when each small movement caused the shirt to rise, or the kilt to slip down a bit, and exposed some more of his skin.

It was the slowest 10 minutes in Slash's life as he played Paradise City, quietly urging for it to end so he could go backstage and drag Axl with him. For the first time since Izzy's departure, he felt his desire for Axl surge inside him untamed, and he almost regretted the fact the singer no longer danced and rubbed himself against Slash's body during the gigs.

Then again, better not. By the way his groin was starting to ache, any movement from Axl was prone to cause him to cream his trousers in front of an audience of god knows how many people.

"Good night Tokyo! Thank you very much!"

At last! Slash thought, promptly turning on heels and walking to the back of the stage. He handed his guitar to one of the crew boys, finished his bottle of Jack Daniels in a large gulp and went right after Axl. He found him with Doug, mindlessly nodding at the manager's questions, while drinking from a bottle of water with the avidity of a man who had just crossed the Sahara.

"Axl," he called out, attracting the attention of the two men.

The singer did not answer, just cocked an eyebrow defiantly as if asking 'so we are in talking terms now?'. Slash rolled his eyes and strode towards the shorter man, thumping his cowboy boots against the wooden floor.

"We gotta talk," he whispered in a low, menacing voice.

He tried to look intimidating, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring down at the slightly shorter Axl, who seemed to be more peeved than curious about his request.

"Oh, do we? Since when?" Axl sneered.

Doug took his cue and quietly slipped away, leaving the two man alone. He knew better than to stand between Axl and Slash when they were hissing at each other like two snakes. It could end with a kiss — or with a split lip. Probably the second option.

"C'mon Axl, don't make this harder—"

"Ah, so now I'm the one makin' it harder, uh? If I recall well—" he glanced around, lowering his voice when he noticed the crew giving them a weird look. "If I recall well, you were the one who kindly told me shut up and sing or else you'd be followin' Izzy's footsteps real soon."

There was anger in Axl's voice, but Slash could see a lingering sadness in his eyes when he mentioned Izzy. The singer was like a child sometimes. He got terribly upset when people reacted against him, but he didn't seem to understand that it was he who pushed them until they had no choice.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This conversation wasn't going where he wanted it to, and his arousal had pretty much vanished. Perhaps he could blame it on the adrenaline rush he got from the gigs, which was the one thing that still brought Axl and him together as in the old times.

On the other hand, talking could make things less awkward between them them. God knew they still had quite a long tour ahead of them.

"Yeah, I remember that... Look, I'm sorry, ok? I was mad. I jus'... I really think we gotta talk."

"Sorry," Axl said, not sounding apologetic at all, but at least the anger was gone from his voice. "I can't now. I got some urgent stuff to discuss with Doug, maybe later." And with that he turned around, ready to leave.

Slash honestly felt like punching the bastard in the face, but that would diminish considerably his chances of approaching Axl in the coming weeks. So he grabbed the redhead's wrist before the other could walk away, and gently pulled him back.

"Please?"

Axl's green eyes darted between Slash's hand around his wrist and the guitarist's eyes, that peered at him from behind a curtain of curly hair. He looked at once outraged at Slash's boldness and deeply disturbed by the power Slash's touches had over him. He shook his hand to make Slash release it and turned towards the taller man once more.

"Alright. Talk."

"You fuckin' kiddin' me? We can't talk here!"

"Here's good," Axl grumbled petulantly, crossing his arms.

"Lotsa people listening, darling."

"Got nothin' to hide from the crew."

"Sure you do," Slash said, with a naughty smirk that spoke volumes.

Axl's eyes widened when he realised the sort of talk Slash had in mind, and he blushed despite himself. "Fine," he muttered, looking at his own feet before turning around. "There's a room they use for spare equipment down the corridor, we won't be bothered there."

Slash followed him quietly. Once they reached the room, Axl quietly peeked into ot to check if there was anyone using it. Meanwhile, Slash's eyes were busy searching for the equipment they were really going to need if things should go as he expected. He found a big black road case and with a smooth movement he wheeled it into the room. Axl looked utterly nonplussed.

"Care to share why the fuck d'you bring a case to our private talk?"

"Ah, uh... it's where we keep the stash," he lied.

"Fuckin' great, so 'talking' to you now means 'getting high together'. Will the surprises ever end?"

Slash gave the redhead an exasperated sideways glance before setting the brake for the casters. The case was perfect, waist-height for him and wide enough for someone to sit upon comfortably. Once everything was settled, he turned around and walked towards the singer.

"C'mon, don't be a cunt."

"I’m not, you're the one who can't talk without being drunk or smacked!"

"D'you see any needle here?"

"No."

"Then shut up and c'mere."

Not so easy. Whenever Slash tried to approach him, Axl found a way to dodge him, always keeping the other at an arm's length. Eventually their silent cat-and-mouse game ended with Slash trapping Axl against the road case.

Now that they were so close, Axl's attitude seemed to lose its previous defiance to become rather self-conscious. He looked down, avoiding Slash's dark eyes on him, a hand gently putting his long sweaty fringe behind an ear.

Fuckin' maddening and yet... adorable. Fuckin' priceless.

"So you, ahn—" Axl muttered, trying to sound natural and failing completely. "Aren't you gonna tell me what this conversation is about?"

"Alright," Slash said, moving even closed to the redhead.

"Or d'you wanna get your fix first?" he asked, motioning to the road case.

"No, no..." Slash whispered, so close to Axl's face now that the singer could smell the liquor in his breath, "The only fix I need is already here."

Slash let his hand slide down Axl's cheek, where some ginger stubble was growing already. But his skin was like porcelain, and so soft. The guitarist took in every detail of his face. The thin but delicious lips, the high cheekbones, the green eyes, now looking into his with a mixture of uneasiness and lust, the perfect nose, the unique scent... Ah, it didn't matter how many times they quarrelled, or how many times Slash tried to forget him by fucking other people, whenever his eyes fell on Axl again he knew that he would never, ever find someone like him.

"Slash, why—"

He swallowed Axl's question, capturing the singer's lips in a wet, sloppy kiss. He thought Axl would refuse him, but instead he surrendered immediately, letting the guitarist's tongue find his own and moaning into Slash's kiss. The minimal vibration was enough to make Slash's blood rush downward so fast he almost became dizzy.

Slash felt's Axl run his hands tentatively over his chest, thumbs brushing his nipples, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Axl was so slow and shy, as if it was his first time doing it. It was expected, considering that they had spent two months without touching more than necessary.

As soon as they broke the kiss, Slash pushed Axl's loose shirt off his shoulders and began to kiss, lick and bite the pale skin, the singer's groans encouraging him. His lips found Axl's nipple piercing and he licked the small nub until the redhead and was moaning obscenely. As he paid attention to the other nipple, he felt Axl's hardness against his belly, making the kilt jut outwards.

Although he wanted to worship every part of Axl's luscious body now that he had rediscovered it, Slash had to confess his own erection was beginning to physically hurt. They had to do something before the others began to wonder why their conversation was taking so long.

"Lean back," he whispered, delicately pushing Axl backwards until he was leaning on his arms. He reached underneath the kilt to pull Axl's underwear off and watched, with a hungry gaze, as the singer spread his legs further to reveal his own desire.

"Slash, please..."

The guitarist felt his hard on throb in his pants and it was a small miracle that he didn't finish just from looking at Axl, his green eyes shining beneath the long lashes, the kilt revealing his creamy thighs but hiding his cock. Slash hurriedly unlaced his leather trousers, enough to expose his own dick, hard and dripping.

Axl groaned at the sight of his lover and Slash brought their lips together once more, rubbing their erections as they shared another heated kiss. One of his hands slipped between their bodies and into the kilt once more, down further down to find the puckered entrance to Axl's body. When his fingertips brushed against it Axl shivered and spread his legs even further.

It occurred to Slash that they didn't have anything for lube. He didn't want to hurt the other man but he also knew there was no way they were going to stop what they were doing. He broke their kiss and brought his fingers to Axl's lips. The singer sucked on them, wetting them to the best of his abilities while making a show of it, his tongue licking and wrapping itself around the digits until Slash was nearly whimpering in need.

Slash removed the fingers from Axl mouth and once more touched his ass. Axl leant back a bit more. "Go on," Axl said, pulling the kilt back to uncover his cock completely this time. Holy fucking mother of God!, Slash had seen his lover naked a thousand times, but the hide-and-seek effect of the kilt was driving him mad. Somehow it was even better than seeing Axl stark naked.

He pushed one finger in carefully, waiting until Axl's pained grimace eased before introducing another. In a few minutes he had three fingers up Axl's arse, scissoring and stretching him, and the older man was starting to pant and groan as the discomfort gradually turned into pleasure.

When he removed his fingers, he felt Axl wrap his legs around his waist, his white "AXL" sneakers digging into the small of his back to pull Slash closer. "C'mon Slash... c'mon—!" he whimpered, his voice laden with desire as he longed for the moment they would be one again, after two long months of separation.

Slash aligned his cock to the singer's entrance, rubbing the head against the already wet hole and smearing some of his precum on it. He was so eager that he feared one single thrust would be enough to bring him to completion... he took a deep breath to calm himself and slowly pushed in.

God, it was better than he remembered. Nothing in the world could compare to Axl's warm, tight little hole around his cock, and the sound of his lover's groans was music to his ears. He thrust slowly at first, waiting for the redhead's body to adapt to his girth. Once he felt himself buried to the hilt, he started to pull back and was rewarded with a small shriek of pleasure and he brushed against Axl's prostate.

He continued with a deliberate, luxurious pace and watched Axl wriggle, trying to make him find his spot again. He knew he couldn't last much longer but that wouldn't keep him from provoking his singer.

"D'you like that, baby?" he asked close to Axl's ear, his voice hoarse. "Uh? Like when I fuck ya like that?"

"No," Axl answered, his strained voice betraying his words, "you're so fuckin' slow I think I'm gonna— ah!— fall asleep 'ere."

Slash grinned and suddenly quickened his trusts, rocking faster and faster against Axl's hips, causing the redhead to close his eyes and moan in ecstasy. Every time he hit the shorter man's prostate, his muscles tightened around his cock, bringing him closer to his own release.

"You're so fuckin tight baby, yes! Ah—"

"Saul—"

Axl mewled at the words, his head too foggy with pleasure for him to remain coherent. But he needed more, more of his Slash, more of that man who could give him such exquisite pleasure he could never, ever get enough of. Swallowing thickly, he opened his eyes to give Slash an obscene look.

"S-so... so fuckin' close Saul...Harder, fuck me harder!"

At this Slash hooked his hands underneath Axl's knees, raising his legs up higher and spreading them as far as they would go. The movement caused Axl to fall back on his elbows, and he threw his head back in pleasure as the angle of Slash's thrusts shifted.

The guitarist could now see Axl's hard cock, a string of precum staining the kilt as the wet head rubbed against it. He could also see the singer hole stretching around his rather thick cock and it always marvelled him how he could fit it in such a small place.

He moved one of his hands to jack Axl off but the singer slapped it away. Surprised, but incredibly turned on at the idea of his handsome lover coming without being touched, Slash scooped down to kiss him again, thrusting harder and harder until they were nearly dislodging the road case, brakes and all. He was focusing on the vibration of Axl's moans against his sensitive lips when suddenly Axl's body tensed up and he threw his head back once more, sobbing in delight as his orgasm rippled through him.

The powerful contractions around his dick made his pleasure unbearable, but it was the sight of Axl's come staining the kilt in long pearly jets that made Slash cry out and shoot his warm seed into the singer's waiting body. He kept thrusting, riding his climax until his penis was too tender for him to keep going.

He pulled out of his lover, his legs nearly liquefied, and let himself fall in a heap onto the floor. From there he could see Axl's slightly spread legs, his cock now limp, hiding once more under the kilt, and his ass puffy and wet with Slash's semen. The vision made him wish he could get it up instantaneously, just to fuck his Axl once more.

~*~

The knocking had started when they were still cuddling and kissing, thoroughly lost in the after-bliss. It took them an eternity to open the door, but when they finally did there was a very annoyed Duff waiting on the other side, with his hands on his waist.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck were you doin' in there?"

"Talking," Axl answered, sheepishly.

"You and Slasher talking for 45 minutes after two months of silent treatment?" Duff asked, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief. "You better watch that nose of yours, Pinocchio."

"You better mind your own fuckin' business, beanpole!" Axl hissed through gritted teeth.

Slash put himself between them, his hands up in a gesture of peace.

"Alright guys, calm the fuck down. Lets get outta here."

Duff nodded, not wanting to get into a row with Axl, and peeked one last time into the room. He noticed the road case in there and asked his bandmates about it.

"It's where we kept the stash," Axl replied, repeating Slash's lie.

"What!? So that's talkin' now? You lock yourselves in a room to get high? And I bet you didn't save a single hit for good ol' Duff now, did ya?"

Slash sighed, looking at the bassist. "Sorry man, you know how the stuff is," he explained, throwing Axl a dirty glance, "highly addictive. We couldn't stop!"

"Well you better pay me some fuckin' saké then!"

Axl grinned back at him and the two followed Duff as he ranted on. Although his senses were still kind of numb due to the pleasure, he couldn't shake the impression — the fear — that the Guns N' Roses were somehow falling apart. That they no longer were what they were supposed to be. He didn't know what to expect from his relationship with Axl anymore... he knew the redhead was like a drug to him, delicious, addictive and impossible to let go of without ruining everything.

He just hoped that Axl and him would find a way to fix whatever was wrong, before their mutual addiction became the cause of their destruction.