FicWad

Slash
I know throwing the whole getting sober thing out the window thing out of the window was probably not the best idea but Duff and I are getting along a whole lot better now that we’re not feeling like shit and snapping at each other. We’re even being good boys and fucking groupies. We don’t exactly like it but we don’t hate it either, we just accept it.

Izzy though, Izzy stays sober for Axl and I can suddenly see why they were ever together in the first place. I watch them together and I can see their hearts reconnecting. Izzy doesn’t even have to say anything and Axl can tell where he’s in pain or that he’s in pain at all, I can’t tell. But I guess Axl can because he’ll suddenly be there pulling Izzy’s back into his chest and massaging his forearms and fingers and Izzy’s completely limp in his arms with the trace of a smile on his face. Axl gives his little kisses on the neck and cheeks and Izzy does the same. They’re always whispering to each other and then giving the other these sweet, soft, kisses, it’s adorable. This is what it must have been like in the beginning, before the drugs and the forced sex and the fear and the shame got in the way; this is just them, enjoying each other and the rest of us love watching it because it sure makes thisngs easier for us. Our shows are great every night and after this Cult leg of the tour is over we’re going out opening for Iron Maiden how cool is that?

I LOVE playing statdums; it’s way different than clubs but it’s such a rush! Thousands of people cheering for you and they WERE cheering for us us waving GNR banners that they had made and stuff. The biggest rush off all though for me was stealing kisses from Duff behind our gear when the spotlight was on Axl or dry humping him while we were playing which from the audience’ s perspective looked totally natural; they had no idea my dick was so hard behind my guitar against Duff’s ass that it was oozing pre-cum and that I was for real panting in his ear. They didn’t know that when we went off stage to grab water during one of Axl’s rants Duff would ease his hand down my pants because he knew I had no underwear on and slowly stroke my dick; leaving me high and dry and on fire with my guitar. When he would do that I played amazingly well. Those are the nights

I leapt off of risers and did back bends and played off of Izzy and Duff on songs we improvised out of nowhere. Duff’s love was my muse and and his sexual taunting was the fire lit under my ass at night that helped me play so well.

I’ve never been so in love and it’s good to see my friends so in love as well. Even Steven; he flies Adriana in every now and then; they’ve gotten over th whole “Rocket Queen” thing and are back together. Duff surprises me one day by taking me to a huge used book store he saw from the bus window the day before somewhere in in Virginia. I’m in heaven, it’s out in the middle of nowhere and it takes us an hour to ge there but he had seen the signs for it and gotten one of our guards to drive us in a normal car, it’s in some place called Mt. Crawford. It’s literally a barn full off used books.

I buy bags and bags and bags of the things. Horror novels and history novels and Duff buys rock star bios and mysteries and true crime mafia stuff; also a lot of civil war fiction and nonfiction. He knows I love to read and that I haven’t had anything to do while on tour bookwise lately other than what I pick up in airports and that’s usually crap. He also knows that I miss Fang and can’t have a cat on tour but he buys me a small gecko and a little aquarium with a heat lamp that I can plug into my bunk. He doesn’t spend much time in the tank, I keep him on my shoulder unless I’m sleeping or fooling around with Duff. Duff is so good to me; who else would do these kinds of things for me He treats me like an angel.

I try and reciprocate; I find an old leather and wool Seawhawks jacket with one of his alltime favorite players names and numbers on it in a market in downtown Chicago and buy it for him and thank god it fits! He loves it and he wears it all the time. I also buy him multiple CBGB shirts since he likes the first one so much so he can have another when we ruins one completely. I make him a mixed tape of all of the punk shit he really, really, loves, some of it he’s in. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. He’s smart too, he might not look it but he goddamn knows everything about everything; I’ve got him beat in the animals category though. He can’t beat me there, no many how many games of trivial pursuit we play on the bus. Actually all of the guys are pretty damn smart and good at that game, we’ve got three versions and we play on the bus all the time!

It’s just the little things he does for me that tells me he loves me the most. One night we were out later, past my shot time an I started getting sick, shaky, and sweaty; I went into the bathroom and heaved up my guts with Duff right behind me holding my hair back. He took me to the sink, helped me rinse my mouth out, put that jacket he loved around my shoulders fully aware it might get puked on and picked me up and carried me to the elevators of our hotels through a sea of press and fans and gawkers. The headlines the next day were great “Slash gets smashed; Duff has to carry him out!’

“I’m ssssorry about the headlines Duff; I didn’t mean to out usssss,” I tell Duff, my teeth chattering.

“Slash, who fucking cares what the headlines say; I don’t care who knows we’re together, I love you anyway, none of it matters, only you and me. I love you my sweet boy. Besides they always say things about one of us partying too much and dragging the other one back to our rooms somehow.

“All I see when I look at you is a sweet, beautiful, person, who’s got one hell of a brain in his head, a beautiful face, oh, and a huge fucking dick!” Of course as soon as he said that it sprang to life which caused Duff’s to wake up too. “Let me ride you, sit on that chair over there, I just need to feel that dick in me, my god just looking at how fucking big you are right now is enough to make me wanna cum.” I raise my eyebrow at him and we scramble for the chair grabbing the lube on the way. I sit in the chair and lube up my dick and three fingers and carefully open him up to me so I don’t hurt him. Then I gently guide him own onto me with my hands on his hips and he groans from deep inside of himself and gasps when he feels me buried to the hilt inside of him. He grips my shoulders hard and then we start to move; rocking gently as one. We’re silent for the most part; every now and then one of us making a small sound of pleasure until I shift Duff’s hard body so that he’s leaning backwards but my cock is able to touch more of the front wall of the inside of his body and the head of my cock is driving right into his prostate. He moans hard and gasps “How do you always find that spot?”

“Simple,” I say as I move him in a slow , torturous grind up and down my cock which runs across his prostate every time bringing whimpers and groans out of him. I love you, you were my first, you taught me how to touch you, and I live to hear those sounds coming out of your mouth.”

“What sounds?” he pants

“These types of sounds,” I answer and pull him down hard into my lap and onto my dick twice more and he lets out a moaning, strangled cry. Thick ropes of cum shoot out onto his belly and he sucks in air like he’s dying. I grip him hard and yell my own climax over his shoulder. I keep his gangly body held tight to me. “Those sounds Duff, those sounds. I love to hear those sounds. I love you.”

“Shit I love you too Curly Sue.,” he answers. We just finishe our second shower of the night when the fucking sprinkliers go off!