Axlrose - Blog Posts

Smiles

don't cry backstage

AXL ROSE AND SLASH 🌹🎤🎩🎸

AXLLLLLLLL

Dear Lord, when I get to Heaven

Please let me bring my man

When he comes, tell me that you'll let him in

Father, tell me if you can

All that grace, all that body

All that face makes me wanna party

He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds.

💋

Axl Rose 1992

Facebook - Guns N Roses 80's

2000s Slash and Duff... Self explanatory.

"gettin’ jiggy with it—"

Slash, Duff, and Matt Sorum.

probably laughing at something a teenager would

Axl Rose & Izzy Stradlin, New Rose, 1984

(taken from instagram)

Big news at the start of a new week ... My #slaxl story Sunset Love has reached 100 kudos on AO3!! 🎉*does happy dance* 💃 ❤️😁 See bio for Link to full story! . . . . . #slaxl #gunsnroses #gunsnrosesforever #gunsnrosesfans #slash #slashfiction #axlrose #axlroseisonfire #fanfiction https://www.instagram.com/p/CMJ6gFjsiLE/?igshid=1c17tqr3vipnp

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. 9: Do you want me to?

Slash watched Axl swing himself nimbly up into the loft. In the shadows cast by the lamplight, Axl's hand grabbed Slash's and pulled him up. They rolled over the wood, clothes discarded. Axl's naked body felt so good against his. The skin was smooth and warm. Strong arms and legs encircled him and pulled him underneath.

"Fuuuck," Slash heard himself groan at the pleasure coursing through his veins. Axl's body was surprisingly heavy on top of him. Slash squeezed his eyes shut at the delicious sensation of being pinned down. Axl was grinding his crotch into Slash's, rubbing their cocks together, precum coating both of their shafts and making them slide against each other. 

Slash reached down a hand and took Axl's full length into his palm, sliding his hand up and down against its smooth solidity. My god, he is fucking huge, thought Slash. He couldn't stop a grin stealing over his face, breaking their passionate kissing.

"Something funny?" said Axl, lifting up his head to scrutinise Slash's face, sweaty strands of his hair tickling Slash's nose. Slash's heart melted a little at the vulnerable expression on the other man's face. Could Axl possibly think something was wrong with himself? 

"Only how fucking blown away I am by your amazing cock," said Slash, brushing back a handful of hair behind Axl's ear and flushing inwardly at his own directness. He wasn't one for dirty talk ... or talk at all for that matter... but Axl was making him open parts of himself he hadn't even been aware of.

Axl smiled shyly and ducked his head, which sent another rush of blood to Slash's dick. For the second time that night, Slash sensed that Axl was struggling for words. He marvelled at being granted access to this hidden version of a person he thought he knew. 

Slash's knees were being pushed up and back towards his shoulders now, Axl's hands strong and sure. Slash waited in delicious anticipation and then... fingers were pushed into his mouth.

"Suck," commanded Axl.

Slash did as he was told, winding his tongue around the fingers, coating them with saliva. Then the fingers were removed from his mouth and ...yessss.... he felt them at his ass, stroking ever so gently around his entrance, then more firmly, teasing, tantalising... 

Slash squeezed his eyes shut as the pressure he longed for started building up around his hole, Axl's fingers circling closer to the centre. 

"Fuuuck... just push into me already," moaned Slash. He realised he was begging but he couldn't help it; his need was so great, he wanted Axl inside him more than anything.

"You want me to finger-fuck you?" murmured Axl, a hint of a mockery in his low voice. Slash couldn't believe he was being teased.

"Yes, you bastard."

"That's not how you speak to your daddy," whispered Axl in Slash's ear, his fingers still slowly circling. 

Slash couldn't believe how much that word aroused him. He clamped his eyes shut again. He knew he would say literally anything to get what he craved.

"Please, daddy, will you fuck me?" panted Slash, surrendering all remaining notions of dignity.

Axl chuckled triumphantly. He plunged his fingers fast and deep into Slash. Slash winced and gasped in pain.

Axl pulled out instantly. "Fuck! I'm sorry!"

Slash waited for the pain to dissipate. He took the other man's hand, nuzzled their noses together and kissed Axl's mouth lightly, reassuringly. 

"It's okay, baby." How incredible it felt to call Axl that. "Do it again, just slowly." 

Slash took Axl's fingers into his mouth and coated them with more spit till they were dripping. After a final searching look into Slash's face to make sure he was okay, Axl turned his attention down again. 

Slash felt pressure, slow and gentle this time, going deeper and deeper into his ass. He groaned and breathed slowly in and out in an effort to stay relaxed. It was working; it felt better this time, pleasure and pressure mingling in his lower groin, farther back, behind his cock and sending pulses into his belly and down his shaft.

"Baby..." he hissed.

Something shifted inside him... Axl was scissoring his fingers, stretching him out carefully. Slash held his breath for a second at the new sensation. It was okay, Axl was being so gentle; it was good, so good.

"Christ, you're fucking tight," breathed Axl. 

Something else was building, a new pressure ... Slash's hips jerked upwards of their own accord and his eyes rolled back in his head as lights flashed behind his eyelids. He realised Axl was curling his fingers, hitting his sweet spot deep inside. It happened again, and again, causing Slash to throw his head back, banging his skull against the boards. It hurt but he didn't care. 

A wet lick on his neck and the sexiest voice in the world rasped, "You're so fucking hot like that."

Slash barely registered the words; his legs were beginning to shudder and spread even wider to allow Axl's fingers to plunge deeper. His arms flailed out, his hands grasping for something to cling to as the divine massage continued in the deepest part of his body, faster and faster, more and more intense until at last, Slash cried out in a mixture of despair and ecstasy. His cock released stream after stream of sticky semen onto his own belly, his hips bucking, his pleasure enhanced by knowing Axl was watching him in this moment of intense vulnerability. 

Slowly, the spinning in his head eased as Slash began to come to, his chest heaving. The ceiling of the room came into view over his head and he saw Axl's beautiful face looking down at him, strands of copper hair shining in the dim light, its owner smiling with a touch of victory but mostly with a tenderness that made Slash's heart ache. 

"You look... pleased with yourself," Slash managed to croak to cover his emotion.

Axl grinned, then reached out a hand and brushed Slash's matted curls out of his face.

"You're fucking amazing," said Axl softly, as if in wonder. 

His eyes were wider and softer than Slash had ever seen them, not narrowed in defensiveness or anger as they so often were. Slash's heart lurched; his eyes moistened; his body felt another flush as discomfort, his old friend, flooded through him again. He didn't know how to deal with Axl showing emotion. All he knew was that he didn't want them to stop touching.

"Do you want me to - ?" he said, glancing into the other man's face then away again in awkwardness.

"Hey," said Axl soothingly. He reached out a hand and gently turned Slash's face back to look up at him. "Don't be shy, baby." Soft lips glancing off his own. Those full, pink lips, now turning up at the edges into a smile. 

"Yeah, I want you to."

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. 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.

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. 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."

Duff’s coat on Izzy. They shared everything in those days.

PFFF WHY

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. 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.

Hey I’m back

You could be mine

Axl💖

𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ღ

------------------------------------------------------------

hiii ! my name is ronnie, im 19, and I go by she/her pronouns, and i'm a new writer here on tumblr, and im open to whatever you want me to write !

idk i just felt like i should add this picture of dave

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm open to writing mostly any kinks, unless it's like piss, feet, defecation, or vomit

I'm also always open to writing about dead people, smut too if you really want, but nothing too extreme, but mostly fluff. I obviously write angst for the dead people but i'll probably cry while writing it💔

I'll write for smut, fluff, and angst

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

I write for:

• Mötley Crüe

• Metallica !

• Guns n' Roses

• Slipknot

• Megadeth

• Nirvana

• Foo Fighters

• Green Day

• Alice in Chains

• Type O Negative

• Linkin Park

• Skid Row

• Bastardane

• Black Sabbath

and almost any band you ask for ☺︎︎

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

see how I reached 30 tags hehe 😈𓆈