Duff’s Coat On Izzy. They Shared Everything In Those Days.

Very pleased that my #slaxl story ‘Sunset love’ is ranking high under #rock on Wattpad (out of 1000s), I wanna get it higher under #slaxl tho!! (Out of 165 😕) Id really appreciate if you could share and like my story,,follow me on Wattpad, (link in bio), not to mention read and vote!! 😍😍 https://www.instagram.com/p/CKe4jObs4R5/?igshid=3tvskx0alken

Maybe a Steven Adler angst/fluff about comforting him when he gets kicked out of the band? 🥺💚

| Words: 803 |

𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒜𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝓍 ℛ𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

| Angst/Fluff |

[ A/N: Sorry took so long! 🥺 I hope you enjoy it anyway.. Steven needs some hugs 🥺 ]

It started out as a normal day.

The bright morning sun slithered it’s way into a crack in the dark curtains. The cool morning air made its way into the once warm apartment as you snuggled into Steven’s chest. You could feel his pumping heart beat against your cheek, making a wave of calm enter your body.

You loved being snuggled up against Steven. His body and his energy had such a warm, welcoming feeling that could bring anyone he was around a smile. That what made you love him in the first place, now that you think about it.

Steven’s arms wrapped around your back, bringing you closer to him. “I’ve got to get up, honey. The guys need me at rehearsal today.” His words reverberated against your cheek was his chest rumbled with each raspy syllable.

You reluctantly let him get up with a kiss on the lips and a promise from him that he will make it home as soon as he can.

You laid there in the plush bed, the comforter raised up to your chin. You were not ready to meet the world just yet.

Steven walked back into the room, walking over and closing the window. Then he bid you his goodbye with one last kiss.

“I’ll see you later, baby” his voice still had a rasp to it.

“Bye, baby. I’ll miss you.” You put a pout on your face, as much as you loved the guys, sometimes it made you a little jealous that they were getting time with Steven.

The front door softly shut, a sudden weight had weighed on your chest. Something wasn’t quite right. You couldn’t put your finger on it.

It was the same feeling you had when you first found out how bad Steven heroin addiction really got.

He hid it from you for the longest time, but it finally blew up on him. You found him passed out on your bathroom floor, needle in his arm, and his face pale blue.

It was the most heartbreaking and scariest moment of your life. Waiting for him in the hospital, while hounding the doctors and nurses about his condition.

When he finally woke up you were the first person he saw. When the wave of confusion passed a big guilty expression came over his face, that’s when you finally broke down.

You just cried, and cried, and cried some more. You thought you were going to lose Steven. You kept telling how worried you were, how you thought he would never wake up. How could you live life without seeing that smile again?

Steven was shakin up over the whole thing and how shaking up you were so when you said he had to stop, he agreed.

With the help of you and what the doctors recommended doing Steven was finally getting better, a little slip ups here and there but you could tell his eyes were shining brighter and his passion for the drums were coming back again.

So when you felt that dreaded feeling of anxiety, you thought of the worst. You got up from the warm bed you were laying in and picked up the phone, quickly calling the studio.

It rang a couple times before Axl picked up, “Hello?” He said into the phone.

“Hey Axl! Um, is Steven there?” Your voice shook with worry.

“Oh, yeah, he actually just left.” Axl said, a little saddened.

“What! Rehearsals not even half way through yet. Was it cut short?”

“I think it’s best he explains it. I’m sorry, Y/N” With that Axl hung up the phone, leaving you with the dull beeping.

You placed the phone back on the handle right as the door opened on revealed Steven.

Tears streamed down his face. When he saw you he turned away from your sight, trying to wipe them away. Your eyes shone with worry as you walked toward him, “honey, what’s wrong?” A soft motherly tone took over your voice. You walked in front of him, softly taking his puffy and reddened face in your hands.

“They kicked me out of...of the band.” He hiccuped through his words, tears once again making their way down his face.

“Oh honey.” You guided his face to bury itself in your neck, his tears greasing up your neck.

“Did they tell you why?” You added, you hand stroked his hair and back in order to calm him down.

He took in a gulp, “the fucking heroin.” You placed your hand on the back on Steven’s head, slowly swaying with him in the entryway. This was huge. The band was Steven’s second family. Whispered ‘whys’ tickled your neck as tears slipped down your face. Having Steven be in this much pain broke you. You never wanted Steven to be in pain. Ever. You stayed through the heroin and you’re definitely going to stay through this.

“It’s going to be okay, Steven.” His sobs quieted,

“I’m here.”

Sunset Love ch. 2: Four Walls

Slash lay there, staring up into the dark, feeling the weight of his friend's arm. Why was he not flinging it off? He felt its warmth seep into his skin. It was fucking cold in here now. Despite himself, he inched closer to the other man's body, seeking heat.

He was close enough now to feel Axl's breath through the t-shirt fabric on his shoulder. He remembered from when they first shared a bedroom last year, in Slash's mom's house, being surprised that a jumpy, talkative guy like Axl slept so soundly. His breath came slow and regular, in and out, soothing Slash's anxious mind. The pressure on his hip from the hard floor made him turn his aching body to the other side to seek relief.

Now Axl's breath was on his face. Slash could feel the body heat between them. What was he doing? Axl was a guy, remember? He, Slash, was a red-blooded male, who had slept with more girls than he could ever count, who liked nothing better than a pair of big tits and a wet pussy, who only last night had had some chick's legs wrapped around him up against the wall in the Rainbow car park...

Soft lips brushing against his. Sweet, tasting faintly of whisky.

What the fuck?

He found himself responding, pushing his lips against the other man's, allowing his lips to be gently prised open, feeling wet, persistent tongue exploring his mouth, gliding over his teeth, his gums, probing farther and farther til they were locked in a full-on, deep kiss that made his head swim more than any alcohol, any drug had ever done, and all he could be sure of was that he didn't want it to end.

He reached out and pulled the nape of Axl's neck towards him, feeling the soft baby hair at the hairline, pulling those beautiful, pillowy lips even harder against his own. He had forgotten how amazing this was. His body filled with delicious warmth. The image of sweet caramel came back into his mind.

In the dark, he felt Axl's arm tighten around him. Axl's knee come up over his waist, sliding over the hump of Slash's erection through his leather pants. Their noses switched sides as the kiss went on, hands in each other's hair, sliding over each other's necks, incredulous at what was happening, drinking each other in.

They broke off, gasping. Their jagged breathing cut through the dark and silence. Slash found his forehead at the other man's shoulder, feeling the bone through the warm skin. Axl's hand moved to his jaw, leaving one last gentle kiss on his mouth. He heard the rustle of skin on leather as the other man turned over, then silence.  

After a few seconds,  Axl's breath came slow and measured again. He was asleep.

Slash lay stunned, looking blindly into the dark. His head swirled crazily. Had that really just happened? There was no denying the swelling in the front of his pants, pressing almost painfully against the lace ties.

He knew only one cure for the cacophony of thoughts and feelings. He turned over and fumbled around the on floor for the bottle.

Shit. They'd drunk all the booze.

He felt his way along the block wall to the door and pushed it open. Milky dawn light was seeping across the sky over Guitar Center and the flat roofs of Sunset Boulevard beyond. The lot was empty. The ever present traffic hummed, at a lower volume than usual at this hour.

He closed the door quietly - the last thing he wanted was to wake Axl now. He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed up the alley in the direction of the nearest 24-hour liquor store.

Because Slash.

Slash Lockscreens 🥀

Please like/reblog if you save or use! ❤️

(screenshot for better quality)

*runs away* 😆😆😆

I'm gonna say it

Guns N Roses>Mötley Crüe

Sunset love ch. 6: Inside

AN: Welcome back! I've been working on this part for a while... here it is.

Slash felt Axl's weight lifting off his chest. His knees were pushed up and back towards his ears. Axl's hands moved feather-light down Slash's thighs to his ass. Discomfort flashed through Slash as his ass cheeks spread. He had never felt so exposed before.

"I'm spitting, OK?" came Axl's throaty whisper. Slash nodded again. A slick, wet finger pressed to his opening and he whimpered involuntarily.

"Is this OK?" said Axl, pausing.

Christ, his concern was so arousing. Slash nodded again and the finger pressed in, inside his body, farther in now, creating pressure deep in his groin and at his lower back that was so alien, so strange, but... good. Axl slid his finger out a little only to push into Slash's hole again, this time with two fingers. Slash jerked with a jolt of pain as his ass stretched inside. Axl's breath was at his ear.

"Good pain?"

"I - don't know," Slash whispered back. His fingers were clamped to Axl's back and his head rested against his sweat-slicked chest. "Try again."

The pressure came again, slowly, so slowly. Slash felt Axl's finger press into him again. It hurt and he flinched. Axl instantly pulled out.

"Sorry, I - " said Slash, flushing inwardly. He cursed himself. He had said he wanted it, now he was wasn't sure.

"Hold on," whispered Axl. Slash felt him kneel up again and push himself off. Slash frowned. Had he ruined it?

Slash heard rummaging - it sounded like fabric. Then Axl was back, his mouth over Slash's again, hot breath in his face.

"I got this earlier," came the deep voice. "Lube."

Slash slowly understood.

"I - I was hoping, you know..." said Axl, then trailed off. Slash flushed, this time with pleasure. Axl  had gone to the trouble - and embarrassment - of getting lube. He really wanted to be with him.

"It's OK," whispered back Slash, his hand reaching for Axl's face. "I - want to."

More rustling, then pressure again. Axl's fingers were much smoother this time. They slipped inside him, still slowly. Slash gasped. It was - it was still weird but... good.

"Better?" said Axl, pausing.

Slash nodded, biting his lips together. He felt Axl's fingers push farther inside him, then curl. The most intense sensation he had ever experienced shot through his body. He gasped and jerked his head up.

"You like that, baby?"

Axl's voice was deeper than ever, arousal reverberating in every syllable. Slash could barely nod.

"I'm going to push in now, OK?"

Slash nodded again. He felt a release of pressure as Axl withdrew his fingers, then stroke more lube around and inside his entrance. Axl moved his hands and supported himself on them, his hair hanging into Slash's face.

Slash felt intense pressure at his hole as Axl pushed into him again but this was different, so different, in such a fucking good way. A whole new sensation invaded him and Slash braced himself with his elbows, pulling his knees up more and raising his hips to meet Axl's, which were grinding against his crotch now, plunging deeper into him. A little pain again but Slash thrust himself forward some more, chasing the incredible pleasure from a few moments before. Axl moaned in delight at Slash's response and thrust forward again and again. He felt Axl's cock pulsate inside him. He pressed his face into Axl's, the other man's hot breath in his mouth, their foreheads together, and he thought he would die of intimacy.

Axl's body began to shudder and Slash realised Axl was losing control, that his hips were pushing on their own now. The shuddering grew faster and the thrusting harder. Finally,  Axl slammed into him, their skin melded together, hot, wet bursts shooting deep inside him as Axl collapsed on top of him, whispering in his ear in an otherworldly voice, "Slash, oh fuck, oh Slash, Slash..."

Hands, hair, mouths, lips, legs, skin, sweat...

Slash let his whole body fall back, Axl on top of him, and knew he never wanted to let this feeling go.

AN: Hope you liked this part! It's a new phase for the characters now, I'm not quite sure where they will go next... xxx

Sunset Love ch. 8: The hour before dawn

AN: Here’s the next part in my Slaxl fic. Hope you like it! If you do, please Reblog, share, Like, etc. xx

***

Slash sucked deeply on the reefer someone had passed him, leaned back his head and blew up a long, slow stream of aromatic smoke at the sky. 

It was sometime in the darkest part of the night, before dawn. His head swirled as he surveyed the blackness above. The noise in the lot outside their rehearsal space off Sunset and Gardner - music from a ghetto blaster, voices, laughter, bottles breaking, cans crunching, grunts from people fucking - was all around him, but he felt remote from it, disconnected.

A dull pain rumbled somewhere in his gut. He couldn't identify it ... He closed his eyes. Oh yes. He remembered. He had fucked some chick and Axl was giving him the silent treatment. In fact, he hadn't seen him since they left the Whisky.

Rage swelled in Slash's throat. He had known this ... thing... between him and Axl was a bad idea. He shook his head. He had been drunk, high, lonely, let his guard down... whatever. And now look where they were: Axl breaking his balls, acting like a fucking teenage girl. 

He shoved the reefer into someone's hand and pushed his way through the crowd in the lot, looking around him. He was going to have it out with that motherfucker once and for all.

He searched all over the lot and the alley. No sign. Slash elbowed his way past some people and pushed through the half-open door to their rehearsal space. He heard a female voice moaning and looked up to the loft. In the half-light cast by a lamp on the floor, he made out Axl, his face buried in some girl's breasts, his ass humping energetically between her thighs. 

Slash stood, frozen, for a second. Axl must have heard him come in because he lifted his head. When he saw it was Slash, an expression crossed his face... what was it? Through the haze in his head, Slash realised it was... vengeful.

Slash stumbled out the door. Appalled, he felt tears pricking behind his eyeballs. What the fuck? He wasn't seriously upset? 

He went and stood at end of the alley where it opened into Gardner Street, the party roaring  behind him. He pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket, lit up with shaking hands, inhaled and closed his eyes. 

Footsteps on the ground behind him. A rough hand at his shoulder, pulling him around.

They stood facing each other. Slash sucked coolly on his cigarette. Its brief glow highlighted  Axl's face, his lips pressed together in a snarl. No fucking way am I saying anything, thought Slash. Let's see if the amazing lyricist has the balls to talk first.

Slash couldn't help smirking when Axl opened his mouth.

"Your little performance in the Whisky didn't mean shit to me, asshole."

Slash couldn't help having a little fun. He widened his eyes. 

"You didn't like my playing?"

Axl's eyes narrowed and Slash saw the muscles in his jaw tighten.

"Funny. Making eyes at that chick all night. Making sure everyone saw you going into the restrooms with her. Acting like the big fucking stud coming back out." 

Axl shoved his hands into the back pockets of his leather trousers. He was clearly trying hard to be cool but his chest was heaving.

Slash frowned.

"Are you kidding, man? That chick gave me the eye first, not the other way around. And I don't give a fuck who did or didn't see." 

Slash exhaled his last drag and ground the cigarette under his toe. He steeled himself. He was going to say it.

"What the fuck do you care, anyway? We fuck chicks, that's what we do, what we've always done. I did it tonight, you did it tonight. Who gives a fuck?"

Axl was looking at his own toes now. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and turned away. 

Slash turned away too and looked down Gardner at the intersection with Sunset Boulevard. A solitary car sped through, going west, and disappeared into the night. The low, ever-present, night-time hum resumed. There were hours to go yet before the day's din began. 

His head ached. A familiar emptiness was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. What was he doing with his life?

"Slash." 

That voice. That deep rumble. It made his goofy nickname sound like poetry.

"I -". 

An exhale, almost like a gasp. Slash looked around. Axl's back was still turned, he was still looking at the ground. Was he actually stuck for words?

"What?" snapped Slash, a harsh tone to his voice. He wasn't going to make it easy.

Another exasperated breath.

"I - I didn't like it." Another pause before Axl continued. "You and the chick in the Whisky. It - it made me pretty fucking pissed. Okay? You happy now?"

Slash felt warmth seep through his belly. Axl was jealous and... Slash realised he liked it.

Axl's arm was cold when Slash reached out and pulled him around as Axl had done to him minutes before. He folded the other man into his arms.

"Jesus fucking Christ," hissed Axl. Slash felt himself being pushed roughly up against the wall around the corner from the alley opening. 

"D'you want someone to see us?" Axl demanded, his face close to Slash's.

For a split second he thought Axl was about to beat the shit out of him. Then he felt the other man enveloping him in his arms and burying his face in Slash's neck. 

Slash slowly circled his arms around Axl's sinewy torso and stroked the back of Axl's head, equal mixtures of relief and arousal flooding through him.

"I'm fucking pissed at you, too," he said softly into Axl's hair.

He felt Axl's ribcage contort with a chuckle. 

"That girl there?" Axl's voice came muffled against the fabric on Slash's shoulder. "I totally did that to get back at you, man."

Slash held his friend tight, drinking in his scent, a sweet blend of sex, sweat, smoke, whisky, and something else, something undefinable that was just pure Axl. His head was swimming again, but not from weed this time. Axl had shown vulnerability. 

Slash felt Axl lift his head and slowly, cautiously, touch the tip of his nose to Slash's. That cute, adorable nose. Slash gently kissed it, the soft skin around it, then moved his lips down. Their mouths met hesitantly, almost carefully, as if they were mindful not to hurt each other again. The kiss deepened slowly as they held each other even more tightly, Axl's pillowy lips so incredibly soft and yielding, Slash drinking in the taste of him. Their tongues found each other and intertwined, harder now, searching inside each other's mouths more urgently, hands grasping in each other's hair. 

Axl pulled his mouth away, his breath coming hot and fast.

"I want you, Slash," he whispered, pushing his forehead against Slash's, eyes closed.

"I want you too," said Slash.

Without another word, they made for their door in the alley, heads down, not looking at anyone. A quick glance inside showed it was empty. Axl pulled the door shut after him and fumbled for his keychain in the dim lamplight. Slash heard the grind of the lock in the metal door.

Their bodies slammed together, hands everywhere, pushing off clothes, pulling at belt buckles. Slash yanked off Axl's pants, followed by his own. He had never felt such want; he wanted all of Axl, every part of him, now. Their mouths sucked at each other greedily, teeth pierced delicate lips, the taste of blood tinged Slash's tongue and it was good, so good. 

"Loft," panted Axl.

Sunset Love ch. 1: Roomies

"Fuck! This stuff weighs a fucking ton," grunted Duff, shoving the bass drum into place at the back of the room. Steven twisted the screws on the hi-hat and gave it a little roll with his fingers. A pleased grin crossed his face.

"That's me all set up," he said, throwing himself onto his stool and spinning his sticks in the air. Izzy scowled as he bent to plug in his Marshall amp.

"At least this place has fucking electricity," he grumbled. He threw his guitar strap over his head and banged out a few chords. He grimaced and crouched down at the amp. "Yeah, the sound in here blows."

Duff was picking out rumbling notes on his bass, his head to one side. "Hey, this place is costing us four Benjamins a month," he replied. "Let's appreciate it, yeah?" He looked across the room as someone came in. "Speaking of which, you gonna get me your share of that, Axl, yeah?"

Axl had his head down, hands in pockets, sheets of red hair shielding his face as he kicked a lump of concrete on the floor.

"Yeah, sure, man," he replied absent-mindedly after a moment. He looked up, sweeping his hair back out of his eyes. He surveyed the room and pursed his lips. "It sure ain't the Sunset Hyatt," he said moodily.

Duff rolled his eyes and stretched out his arms. "What's with you guys, pissin' and fussin'?" he demanded. "We had to twist the guy's arm to even let us have it. Quit bitchin' and let's do what we're here to do."

The others mumbled assent and continued setting up. Electric twangs, beats and thumps filled the space, disappearing into the bare-brick walls.

"Where's Slash?" asked someone.

"He's here," said Slash, who had just dashed in the metal door. He stomped across to the other side of the room from Izzy and set down his guitar case and amp. "What'd I miss?"

He looked around at the other four. "Hey, Axl, you still got no PA?"

Axl was mooching in a corner, hands still in his pockets, whistling scraps of tunes. "Fuck you," he shot back, "You know I don't."

"Right, so, how we gonna hear you?"

"Guess you'll have to stand right up next to me if you wanna hear me," said Axl in his smooth, deep voice, tilting his chin at Slash. The others watched warily. Axl may have been small and skinny, but they knew his temper, and his fists.

Slash said nothing. Guitar on, he strummed out the opening chords of the new song they were working on. Like the others, he grimaced at the awful acoustics in the room, then grinned.

He was playing it cool, as always, but Slash was psyched that they finally had a place of their own to rehearse, day and night, whenever they wanted. This was going to take the band to the next level, he thought. The level where they could get a whole set down and really start pushing to play the clubs on Sunset, and beyond. He already had an idea in his head for their band logo. Two guns, their handles intertwined with two thorny roses.

"We ready?" came Axl's voice, cutting through his thoughts. Duff gave the nod to Steven, who clapped his sticks together, and they were off.

***

They played until they were too hungry and tired to go on.

"I'm outta here," called Duff, swinging off his guitar. "I promised Mandy I'd take her to the Rainbow tonight. Who's coming?"

Steven was already up from his drum kit and at Duff's side. Izzy mumbled about having to go see someone and was gone. Duff looked from Axl to Slash, then laughed.

"Right. You guys live here." He was grinning madly. "So this is like, your first night in your new home? Like a house-warming?"

"Fuck off," muttered Slash through a cloud of smoke and turned towards his amp. Axl said nothing, just lit his own cigarette and blew out a long lungful, staring at the wall. For a moment Duff thought he caught something of what Axl was thinking. Duff knew he sometimes slept rough around West Hollywood: stairwells, doorways. This place was a roof over his head.

"Just fuckin' with ya," said Duff easily. "See you guys tomorrow sometime."

He and Steven stepped out into the alley and left into Gardner Street, the thrill of their new rehearsal space putting a spring in their step as they headed towards Sunset Boulevard.

There was silence in the room for a while as Slash and Axl smoked, perching on amps, looking around at the place that was newly theirs: four bare cinder block walls and a sheet metal roof. It was storage space, advertised as such; they hadn't exactly made it clear to the owner that they were a rock band intending to rehearse. The guy had made a big deal out of the fact that there were electricity sockets and a shared toilet in the lot.

The floor was bare concrete. The drum kit and guitars looked odd, standing around unused. It was 10 P.M. on an August evening, the sun had gone down and the day's heat was seeping out of the walls. The reality of their situation was beginning to dawn.

"Guess we shoulda got ... mattresses or something," said Axl, looking around.

Slash chuckled, nodding. "Yeahhh," he drawled. He reached over to a paper bag by the wall and pulled out a familiar brown bottle.

"'Least we got our friend Jack to keep us company."

Axl looked up at Slash and smiled slowly.

Slash busied himself popping the lid, taking a swig and handing it over. He felt suddenly weird - was he embarrassed, shy? It was true that he and Axl hadn't spent a lot of time together since Axl moved out of Slash's mom's house a while back. But that smile of Axl's - it looked like it had been more than just a casual facial expression. Or was he imagining things?

Slash knocked back more of the Jack, passing it back and forth to Axl. It did its magic, as usual - with every swig, the awkwardness he felt faded. He knew that many people drank to feel different, to feel less like themselves. He did it to feel less awkward, more sociable - more like himself.

Fortunately, Axl was a good talker. It never took much to set him off on one of his long, rambling musings about life, music, art, whatever he was digging at the moment. Slash provided nods and comments here and there as that voice filled the small space.

What a voice, he thought. Many singers he knew had speaking voices that didn't resemble their singing at all. Axl was different. When he spoke, the tones were just as smooth and deep as when he sang. Thoughts of thick caramel and warm, melting chocolate came into Slash's mind. He found himself trying not to stare too long at Axl's face, especially his lips as they moved. He noted their feminine curves and their natural pout.

Suddenly Slash realised what he was thinking and was annoyed with himself. What was he, a fucking fag? He took another gulp. It must be the whisky. He shivered.

"Yeah, it's getting fucking cold, man," said Axl. He cast around the room and squinted into a corner where Duff had propped his bass. "Hey - what we got here," said Axl, jumping to his feet and picking something up from the floor. He held it up. It was Duff's voluminous red and black leather trench coat. He had brought it from Seattle and thought it was the coolest thing ever.

Axl spread the coat down on the floor by the wall and lay down. He closed his eyes and appeared to be going to sleep.

Slash seized up with awkwardness again. He drained the last drop from the bottle.

"Sure as hell beats the fucking Tower Video stairwell," said Axl with closed eyes.

Slash said nothing.

"You going to sleep or what?" said Axl.

Slash got up and flicked off the light. He moved warily in the dark towards where Axl lay. He crouched down and clumsily stretched himself out on the leather coat, leaving as much space as possible between himself and Axl.

"Night, fucker," came Axl's voice, sounding half-asleep already.

"Fuck you," fired back Slash, turning onto his side, away from the other man.

It might have been better than a stairwell but it was still fucking uncomfortable. Slash dozed fitfully, turning to one side then the other against the concrete, his drunken mind filled with disturbing half-dreams. At one point, God knows what time, he jerked awake as he felt something heavy on his chest. He gradually realised it was Axl's arm.

The other man appeared to be sleeping deeply, his steady breathing coming through his nose.

Slash froze. He clenched his teeth in anger. We fucking agreed this wouldn't happen again, he thought.

OMG look how cute Slash is here ❤️ thank you @solpadawan for this

Look at the way he sits down, the way he lights his cigarette and shakes out the match, the way he grips his hair at the back, the way he looks into the audience and beams with the biggest smile because he's so happy to see everyone excited

I will never get over how absolutely adorable Slash is :')

Sunset Love ch. 4: I can’t stop myself

Getting up in the morning was never a problem for Slash. The gnawing craving for alcohol woke him every morning early, regardless of how much (or little) he'd slept the night before.

It was around one in the afternoon and he had been up for hours. He had fled the garage as soon as he'd woken that morning, not wanting to face Axl. He had put a stop to things the night before, mumbling something about being tired and jumping up into the loft to sleep. Alone - to be fair, Axl hadn't pushed it; he had stayed on the floor.

As soon as he was out on the street, Slash had forked over the last of his cash from his old newsstand job for a bottle of Jack, then called over to Izzy's place. Izzy's girlfriend was out, so the two spent an agreeable few hours on the sofa, putting away the whisky and talking about  the band.

"Hey, that reminds me," said Izzy, putting down the empty bottle on the shaky coffee table. "The rehearsal space is a fucking disaster, man."

"Whaddya mean?" said Slash, his head lolling pleasantly against the back of the sofa.

"You and Axl live there," replied Izzy. "Me, Duff and Stevie are gonna be there every fuckin' day - and probably a lot of nights. We gotta make it a bit more - I dunno, livable. We gotta fix up somewhere to sleep."

Through his whisky haze, Slash realised what Izzy was getting at.

"Right," he said. "A fuck space."

Izzy chuckled.

"Correct, my friend. I think you'll agree that the rehearsal space is going to be used for that purpose? I don't think any of us is keen to get it on with someone on that fuckin' hard-ass concrete floor."

Slash felt his face get warm. He dipped his head to take a long drag on his cigarette.

Izzy stood up and patted his pockets for his key.

"Uhhh...where we going?" said Slash.

Ten minutes later, Slash found himself ducking his head and following Izzy through a gap in a chain-link fence around into a construction site just off Clark Street. Despite his long history of shop-lifting and general pilfering, Slash was glancing around.

Izzy snorted. "It's Saturday, dude. Construction workers aren't like us - they don't work weekends."

He was right. No-one bothered them as they selected a few lengths of plywood and wooden blocks that were stacked against a wall. Ten minutes later again, they were pulling open the door to the studio on Sunset and Gardner.

Sunlight hit the bare walls inside, cutting through the dark. Incredibly, Axl had been still asleep  in his snakeskin jacket on the concrete floor. He didn't look too happy to see them.

"What the fuck?" Axl groaned, squinting.

"It's the afternoon, asshole," said Izzy, nudging Axl in the side with his toe and, with a grunt, letting the wood he'd been carrying crash to the floor.

Slash noticed the easy camaraderie between the old school friends. He was always more cautious when he talked to Axl. Everyone knew that Axl was a grenade, liable to explode at any moment.

"I'm here to do you a massive favour, Ax," Izzy declared. He started laying out the two-by-fours, then produced a box of nails and some tools from his pocket. "Slash and I realised this place is not very fucking hospitable to the so-called fair sex. Plus there's no space on the floor with all our gear. We're going to build a loft."

Slash spent the next few hours - alongside following Izzy's building instructions - discreetly observing Axl. He found it funny to see him doing manual labour - clearly unwillingly. Probably, Slash thought as he held pieces of wood while Izzy sawed and hammered, Axl felt it was beneath the job of a singer to labour with the rest of them. But Duff and Steven were nowhere to be seen and it was his home, so Axl had to muck in.

It was so sexy the way Axl clenched his jaw when he was annoyed or concentrating. Through his hair, Slash observed the muscles at the angle of Axl's jaw rise and fall. And the way his full lips pursed a little at the same time. Every so often, Slash got annoyed at himself, sneaking looks like a besotted school girl. But he couldn't help himself. Plus, the rehearsal space was tiny - ten by fourteen feet - so they were working literally shoulder to shoulder.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop sensations from last night coming back into his mind. Warm, smooth lips against his own. The sweet, coffee-like aroma of their sweat intensifying as they kissed, slowly, delicately. Breath coming fast and rough from their throats.

"I said hold it steady!" came Izzy's voice, irritated, waking Slash from his reverie.

Slash tried to concentrate. He and Axl were standing in among Steven's drums, holding over their heads the flat wooden structure they had nailed together, while Izzy hammered it to the small wood blocks he had attached to the wall. Slash glanced in Axl's direction and thought, fuuuck. The space had warmed up as the day wore on and Axl had discarded his jacket. He was bare-chested, ropes of muscles in his arms and abdomen on full display.

Slash closed his eyes, willing his twitching cock to be still. He was surprised to notice that sadness was mixed in with his lust. Yes, Axl was naturally strong, but the guy was also thin. The rest of the band, including himself, had mocked the sucked-in-cheeks look Axl had in their one band photoshoot so far. Slash now realised those cheekbones were so prominent because the guy had barely enough to eat.

Izzy was standing back and rubbing his palms on his pants.

"A good day's work, gentlemen!"

And there it was, their new loft. The living space in the studio had just increased by roughly fifty per cent. Just above head height, just enough space to hoist yourself up and roll in, perfect for their purposes. They regarded it with pride.

Slash sucked deeply on a fresh cigarette and frowned.

"Did we, like, just spend the afternoon doing home improvements?" he said.

***

"Man, I love that stuff!" shouted Steven, taking a long swallow and thrusting the bottle high into the night air.

It was around four in the morning on Palm Avenue, West Hollywood. The first shafts of daylight were beginning to tease the grey sky. The five of them were walking home from an uproarious night in Lizzy Grey's sleazy apartment with even sleazier chicks and some coke Duff had produced. They left when the coke was gone. They had pushed all the money they had between them - a few dollars - over the liquor store counter for two bottles of Night Train.

"Eighteen per cent," Axl was saying musingly, looking at the label on the bottle in his own hand. He grinned. "Bottoms up!"

"I'm on the Night Train," sang Duff, his head tilted back, his body full of coked-up energy .

Axl took up the snatch of melody and played with it, flinging his arm around Duff. The two stumbled along, singing out of sync and guffawing with laughter.

Slash trailed the rest of the group as they staggered across the junction onto Sunset. His emotions swirled, despite his attempts all evening to anaesthetise them with coke and booze. The afternoon of hard work cheek-by-jowl with Axl had been followed by an evening of being ignored. Axl literally hadn't looked at him the whole time in Lizzy's. And now to top it all off, here was he, Slash, finding himself simmering with jealousy at Axl and Duff.

He hadn't felt this down in a while. He caught up to Steven, grabbed the bottle and took a long, numbing swallow.

At the junction to Gardner Street, he waved half-heartedly and turned left, not bothering to check if Axl was coming. He made out the door of the studio and pulled out his key chain. The studio looked its usual disastrous state, the half-light throwing into relief the trash, the empty cans and bottles. But at least there was the loft. He summoned up the strength to heave himself up and let his aching body fall onto the flat surface. He surrendered his mind to blessed oblivion.

***

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard the metallic bang of the studio door, then the familiar deep voice.

"Why'd you disappear, man?"

Slash said nothing. He didn't know what to say.

He heard a grunt, followed by cursing and rustling. Axl was swinging his legs into the loft and lying down beside him. The flash of a lighter briefly illuminated Axl's face, his lips balancing a cigarette. Slash felt a flash of annoyance at the warmth that flared low in his belly at the sight.

"You not talkin' to me or what?" came Axl's voice through the darkness.

"Shut the fuck up," grunted Slash, rolling over onto his side, his back to the other man.

There was silence for a moment. Then a hand on his arm. Slash rolled onto his back. He couldn't contain himself any longer.

"What the fuck is happening here, man?" burst out Slash. "Is this how it's going to be? You never speak to me or look at me all day, even in fucking rehearsals, then here at night you - you - we..." He couldn't find the words to finish.

He heard Axl blow out slowly, his breath controlled. The aroma of tobacco filled the air in the tiny space.

"I don't know either, man," came Axl's voice finally, quiet and measured. "I - I don't know. I just can't stop myself touching you."