Gorgeous Piece Of GNR Fluff

Sooo true

A few things I (a fanfiction writer) want you to know

 I write fanfiction because I love the characters and ships I write. I’m not a published author, nor am I trying to become one. I’m here because I got obsessed with a stupid tv show. That’s it. 

Kudos and/or comments fuel me more than you can imagine. 

Every day, I get a ‘You’ve got Kudos!’ email. Every day, I open it. I take note of which of my fics have been given kudos. I take note of the usernames I find there. If you’ve left kudos on one of my fics before, I’ll recognize you. I take a moment to appreciate your support. I feel validated and inspired after this. 

When someone comments on one of my fics for the first time, I go ‘Oh hey there, new friend. Welcome to my world.’

If you’ve commented on one of my fics more than once, I know you. I’ve checked out your profile, your works, your bookmarks. When I see your username, I feel like I’m meeting a friend. I’m like ‘This is the person who likes the same rarepair I do.’ - ‘This is the lover of fluff/smut/angst fics.’ I remember.

I read every comment I ever get, many of them more than once. I try to answer them all. I’m not always fast with that, but I promise you, I appreciate the hell out of your feedback. Sometimes people ask me why I’m grinning so dumbly down at my phone, and many times it’s because I just got a new comment. You’re making my day with this. 

Sometimes I get a comment on a WIP I haven’t updated in a while, and in most cases, it motivates me to get the next chapter out. You’re reminding me why I started writing this story. You’re making me want to finish it. 

When I feel down and unable to write, I go back to the comments on stories that mean a lot to me personally. They give me new life. I treasure them. You have no idea how long they stick with me. 

My ask box is always open. You want to express an opinion on my writing anonymously? You have a prompt, an idea, a wish? You probably don’t know how easy I am to persuade to write something. Honestly, try it. 

No fic is too old to comment on it. Never. 

If you’re too shy to leave a comment, you are valid. I’m happy to have you as a reader. I’m a crazy fangirl like you. I’m dying to talk to you. If you can’t, that’s perfectly fine though. 

If you don’t know what to comment, believe me when I say that it doesn’t matter as long as it isn’t rude. You’re too tired to leave a proper comment? I read fics at 2am too my friend, I understand. You don’t know how to put your thoughts into words? You can literally leave me a HI and I’ll be happy about it. 

If you’re too shy to comment in English because you’re not a native speaker, you’re valid. You’re good enough to read fics in this language, you can be proud of that. I know how to use a translator. You may comment in whatever language you want to. I’m not a native speaker either, I’ve long stopped trying to sound like one. I take no shame in that. 

If you have ever taken time out of your day to read one of my stories, I appreciate you so much. If you have ever hit the kudos button on one of my stories, I appreciate you so much. If you have ever written me a comment, shared your genuine feelings about my writing with me, you are responsible for a big, stupid smile on my face and a significant bit of motivation. 

Thank you!

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.

Sunset Love ch.10: Not any more

Slash got to his knees over Axl, his legs still trembling as his orgasm dissipated. He placed a hand each side of Axl's head and propped himself on his palms, looking down on the other man's face. The cheap wooden boards of their makeshift loft scraped against his skin but the blissed-out feeling pooling throughout his body killed the discomfort.

To his surprise, Axl flipped himself over and got to his knees, too. Slash found himself looking down at Axl's bare back.

Then all other thoughts vanished from Slash's mind as he regarded the naked ass beneath him.

Yes, he had seen it often enough, encased in shiny black leather, on stage; he had even seen it mostly bare when Axl performed in his infamous assless chaps. He had never given it much thought before - he was usually so preoccupied with his playing, not to mention drunk or high, or both.

What had he been thinking? he asked himself. It was the curviest, tightest, most perfectly shaped ass he had ever seen.

He reached out a hand and stroked the soft, smooth buttocks, then lowered his head and pulled his lips and nose across the skin. With delight, he heard the other man's soft moans as he buried his face in the softness.

Axl turned his head to the side for a moment and said quietly, "I want to feel you inside me."

Slash's cock, already hard again, twitched at the words. He looked on in amazement as Axl arched his back so that his buttocks parted slightly, exposing his beautiful asshole. Slash moved his hips from side to side so that his cock, stiff and slick with precum, grazed off one buttock, then the other, a thread of shiny, sticky liquid connecting the tip of his cock to Axl's skin, while Axl groaned in pleasure.

Remembering his own pain moments before, Slash scooped a palmful of his own cum, still sticky on his belly, down to his cock and lubricated himself. He ran his fingers around Axl's hole and inside as well, adding spit for good measure, while Axl breathed raggedly and raised his ass higher in a silent plea.

Oh sweet fucking Christ, thought Slash as he finally pushed the gleaming, swollen tip of his cock against the opening of Axl's ass. The other man's skin was tight, yet yielding. Their moans mingled as Slash pushed oh so gently inside.

Fuck, Axl was tight, so much tighter than pussy; Slash felt his cock being squeezed hard; it was a weird sensation, still new to him, but it was fucking amazing. He had a hand on each of Axl's buttocks now, lightly keeping them apart to allow him to plunge himself farther, deeper, as the other man responded by pushing back against him. Slash withdrew slightly, then pushed in again, and again, till he was balls deep inside, his groin pressed against that perfect ass.

Slash felt a lump rise in his throat at the feeling that part of his body was literally inside Axl's, at how they were now as close as they could possibly be, their bodies fused. His head swam and he realised it was awe at the beauty of what they were doing, at the intimacy they were sharing. He buried his face in the warm skin between Axl's shoulder blades, glad that Axl couldn't see his face or the tears threatening in his eyes.

Slash felt for Axl's outstretched arms against the wooden boards and grasped the backs of Axl's hands, intertwining their fingers. His plunges were coming harder and faster, unstoppable now, his cock pulsing as Axl moved with every thrust; he felt Axl's insides clench around his length; he lost all control and cried out "Axl, Axl" as he emptied himself into his friend, exploding load after load into the beautiful body.

They collapsed, Slash chest-down on Axl's back. They lay, rib cages heaving, hands still entwined, panting, sweating, spent.

After a minute, Axl shifted and Slash rolled off him. They lay side by side on their backs, arms touching, sweat mingling. They looked each other full in the face. Slash's impulse was to look away but he forced himself to maintain eye contact. Axl's gaze was steady, unflinching, the green eyes turned grey in the dim light from the lamp on the floor below.

"That was - " said Axl, then stopped.

"I know," muttered Slash.

"What is this?"

"I don't fucking know," said Slash.

Another pause. The only sounds were their breathing, slowing gradually, and the distant hum of early-morning traffic. Slash slowly remembered that there was a world outside these four walls. He pushed the thought aside. He wanted to stay here, in their spell, inside.

The corners of Slash's mouth turned up as he recalled the previous evening. It seemed like an eternity ago. Had Axl really been jealous of some random chick Slash had hooked up with in the Whisky toilets? Had he really gone looking for Axl, determined to end this thing once and for all?

"You not jealous any more?" Slash said with a sly grin.

Axl smiled back.

"Guess not," he said, and turned his eyes up to the ceiling.

After a moment, Axl turned his face back to Slash and said, "I want to own you."

Slash didn't know what to say. There was no need. Axl leaned over, grabbed Slash's shoulders, pressed his lips to Slash's neck and began to suck, hard.

"Ow!"

Slash flinched and tried to pull back but Axl was holding him tight. After a few seconds, Axl let go and surveyed his work with a satisfied look.

"Did you just give me a hickey, motherfucker?" demanded Slash, rubbing the tender spot on his neck, not knowing whether to be pleased or outraged.

"I've marked you. That means you're mine," said Axl in such a deeply sexy voice that Slash couldn't be annoyed. His head and chest filled with what he guessed was happiness.

He leaned over and kissed Axl softly. Axl returned the kiss. They nestled into each other's arms and fell asleep.

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

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. 7: Not a glance

AN: It's been a while... the weather is shit today and I'm grumpy!! Thanks for coming back -- or coming for the first time. I try to make the parts work on their own as well as being part of a longer story. Hope you like this one. xx

The chick with the low-cut top standing at the side of the dance floor had been looking up at him since the start of their set. It was quite clear from her expression what was on her mind. In between his riffs and solos, Slash was keeping an eye on her from behind his hair on stage.  

It was 9 P.M. on a Tuesday night and the Whisky was almost empty. The night hadn't even really started yet. But this was what you did when you were an unknown band - you started at the bottom of the bill, early in the week.

To give him his due, Axl wasn't letting the sparse audience affect his performance. He was giving it his all, as he always did: shirt thrown aside, sweat gleaming in the stage lights, the muscles in his back tightening and relaxing along with his voice.

Slash had given up pretending to himself that he wasn't watching Axl every chance he got to do so unobserved. On stage - behind his guitar and his hair, the other guys absorbed in their playing - was the perfect place. That writhing, snake-like body, ink standing out against the whiteness of the skin, the black leather pants slung low around the hips, barely clinging on...

Axl rang out the closing notes of their new song, 'Don't Cry', and let them reverberate around the room. A few hesitant hand claps echoed around the walls and their set was over.

The girl was still there. They made eye contact again and Slash felt a rush to his groin. Relief flowed through him. He was still straight. Whatever was going on with Axl didn't make him a fag. He cocked his head towards the restroom door beside the stage and the girl gave a brief nod.

***

He buried his face in the girl's breasts and pulled her hips closer to his. She anchored her arms behind his neck and wrapped both her legs around his waist. The flimsy partitions in the Whisky toilets rattled as he began banging himself into her, pushing her against the wall to keep her up. It was skeezy but that was OK; he was into it and she certainly was too, thrusting her pelvis energetically against him and digging her nails into the skin on his back. He dragged his lips across her chest from one tit to the other, relishing the yielding softness, so different from...

He pulled his head up suddenly.

"What the fuck?" the girl gasped, her face in his shoulder. "Don't stop!"

Had he stopped? He resumed his frantic banging into her but was having trouble focusing on the task at hand. He'd been comparing this to ... how he felt doing the same thing with Axl. Jesus.

He squeezed his eyes tight and thank fucking Christ, he was about to come now... he exploded into her, clutching her buttocks tight to keep her in position. He kept thrusting til he was spent.

"Thanks, honey," he muttered, panting, as he let her down and hoisted his pants up. The girl grabbed some tissue and cleaned inside her thighs, looking none too happy.

"Yeah, really fucking great," she said, glaring. "What was that - like, twenty seconds?"

"Fuck you," he retorted, though he flushed inwardly. He knew he'd been selfish; he'd taken what he wanted from her and he just wanted to get out of there.

"Fuck YOU, asshole," she shouted and slammed the stall door behind her.

***

The next band was slamming out their first chords as he slunk out of the bathroom. More people were wandering in; cigarette smoke billowed, people's hands hung out over the balcony upstairs, some girls clustered against the front of the stage. Slash made out Duff, Izzy and Axl leaning against the bar at the other side of the room with their buddies West and Del, knocking back bottles of beer.

"Ah, here's the dirty dog," said Duff, grinning, holding out an arm as Slash approached. "Taking care of business, eh?"

They had all seen him disappear into the bathroom after the girl. The group chuckled indulgently, admiringly even.

Slash shrugged and flicked his eyes discreetly to Axl, as had become his habit. Axl was standing a little apart from the group, studying the band on stage intently. Slash mouthed 'Jack and coke' to the barman and checked back again. Yep, Axl was still acting like he wasn't there.

Slash sucked down his drink hungrily and signalled to the barman for another. He nodded along as Steven enthused to him about something, but he wasn't listening. Minutes passed and Axl's back remained firmly towards him.

Slash frowned in confusion. Sure, Axl was moody, and unexplained silences were a thing with him. This was one of those episodes, right? It couldn't be ... the girl, could it? Getting as much pussy as possible was one of their core aims as a band. Surely there was no way Axl was ... jealous?

At some point later, after several more drinks, Izzy flung his arm around Axl's shoulders, dragged him back to the group and forced him to clink bottles.

"Our position at the bottom of the bill continues uncontested!" exclaimed Izzy, lifting his drink into the air mock-heroically.

"How many was that tonight, four people?" mused Duff. "Two of them were our friends who we bribed with free beer -" he gestured to Del and West, who raised their drinks graciously - "One was that strung-out guy by the door who clearly hadn't a fucking clue where he was, and the other was that girl who just came to fuck Slash."

Axl looked away sharply, examining the ceiling. Everyone else was too drunk to notice, or care. But Slash knew now. It was the fucking girl.

"Better than our first gig," said Steve. "The Troubadour, before Seattle? Two people - the bar manager and that random guy who said he thought we were gonna be some other band?"

"Your fan base is growing, then," declared Del. "I call that progress." More cheering and clinking bottles.

Slash wanted to leave, wanted to get Axl on his own and demand to know what the fuck was going on, but the guys were in roaring form and the drinks were coming thick and fast. It was easier to just stay.  

The headlining band came on, the club had filled to capacity, bodies packed in, the music and noise deafening - and their collective cash had dried up.

"Back to the Sunset and Gardner Hotel and Villas!" roared Steve, throwing his arm around Slash's neck. Slash had loosened up a bit. The knots in his shoulders were relaxing and he could talk more. Thank fuck for that. He didn't care as much about things with plenty of alcohol on board. He headed for the door with the rest of them, not casting a glance at Axl.

***

AN: It took a while to get this part right. I really want to hear what you think of it - it's harder to write tension than the lovey-dovey stuff :) Please leave me a comment.

Because Slash.

Slash Lockscreens 🥀

Please like/reblog if you save or use! ❤️

(screenshot for better quality)

Sunset love ch. 5: The things you don’t know

Axl's words reverberated in the air around them. Had he really just said that? 

The hand on Slash's arm was stroking his skin now, slowly. Slash didn't shake it off. The hand moved to his chest, snaking up under his t-shirt and to his nipples, Axl's fingertips caressing them and pulling them gently to tight little knots.

Slash's throat constricted. He exhaled slowly, trying not to reveal how turned on he was - but he heard the other man chuckle. 

"Seriously, what the fuck are we doing..." managed Slash. "We're not fucking fags..."

"Shut up," came Axl's voice, a gruff whisper now. Slash felt incredible softness on his chest as Axl drew his lips from one nipple to the other, biting with his lips over his teeth at first, then teeth only, gently, eliciting sharp gasps that Slash realised were coming from his own mouth. He couldn't help raising his hands to Axl's hair, clutching clumps of it as he tried to deal with the desperate pleasure coursing through him. He tried not to pull too hard but he felt the other man tilt back his head and moan. 

"Do that again, baby."

As soon as he heard that word, Slash felt a rush of blood to his groin and moisture prickling his eyes. Axl had just called him "baby".  

Slash pulled harder on Axl's hair and relished the feeling of Axl throwing back his head even farther, raising himself on his arms and emitting slow growls from deep within his throat. Slash pushed himself up on one hand and crushed their mouths together. Teeth, lips and tongues frantically collided, pushing, exploring.

They fell back onto the wood. Slash pulled Axl to the side and under him so that Slash was on top, enjoying the feeling of the other man trapped between his legs. He searched in the dark for Axl's waistband, expertly pulling open the button and zip - he had done this often enough with women - and pulling the other man's jeans down his thighs. Strong fingers were at his own fly, Axl picking apart the knot in the laces. Passionate kisses again as they both kicked off their pants, limbs clashing, legs entwining. 

"Commando, I like it," said Axl, pushing his fingers down into Slash's crotch.

Slash had to grin. "What can I say, I've never been the type to wear underwear."

"You little fuckin' tease," growled Axl. He took Slash's cock full into his hand, palming its length, using his thumb to circle precum all over the tip. The delicious swimming in Slash's head took over again, making him shut his eyes tight and moan softly. He was helpless now, wanting this to go on forever. 

Slash felt Axl's head slide down his torso and realised what was about to happen. 

"Fuuuuck," he groaned as he felt smooth lips slide over the tip of his cock and down. Axl was sucking now, gently at first, then harder as Slash became more engorged, filling the other man's mouth and feeling his tip graze the back of Axl's throat. Axl gagged but didn't lose his grip, pumping him with his mouth, sending Slash's eyes rolling back in his head. Somewhere among the psychedelia going on in his brain, Slash realised what they were doing, that they were going farther than last night; somewhere in his mind, a voice questioned it but that voice was weak, so weak, compared to the screaming need in his cock that drowned out all sense, all reason.

The throbbing in his dick was intensifying. He had his hand on the back of Axl's head, feeling it move up and down on him; it was too much, he couldn't take it any more but he didn't want the pleasure to stop. He pushed himself farther forward, feeling teeth glancing off his dick, irresistible suction pulling him in. 

Slash whimpered as fireworks went off behind his eyes. Hot liquid coursed through him and he exploded into Axl's mouth. 

He fell back onto the boards, divine aftershocks running through his chest and down his arms and legs. His cheek touched off the cool wood. He reached out for Axl.

"Did you... swallow?" he asked tentatively, taking the other man into his arms. He felt Axl nodding as his hot breath blew on Slash's chest. 

The things I don't know about this guy, thought Slash. He filed the thought away in his mind for later. He had space in his head only for what they were doing right now. 

They were lying on their sides, chest to chest, arms thrown over each other, noses rubbing gently, delicate kisses coming thick and fast as Slash came down from his orgasm. He wriggled to circle a leg around Axl's hips and lifted him on top. His weight felt so good. Axl's deep, sexy chuckle made him smile. 

"Soooo," Axl murmured, stroking Slash's hair. "Does this mean what I think it does?"

Slash nodded mutely. He was scared but his desire was stronger. 

"Greedy little bitch," Axl hissed in his ear.

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.