mkwins2001

The first time it happens, Slash is drunk. To be fair, he's not as drunk as Axl—which is a surprise, because Axl doesn't usually touch whiskey—but then again, he supposes that's his fault, too. They'd played a remarkably good show at the Roxy Theater, and then, in a rare bout of camaraderie which Axl doesn't show very often, even though they're all living together at Vicky's, the redheaded singer had slung his arm across Slash's shoulders and bet him twenty-five dollars he could drink him under the table. And Slash had stupidly gone along with it, thinking he could beat Axl out easily, and now he's sitting at a booth at the Rainbow

Slash stepped back from the tree, smiling a little. He tilted his head to one side, examining his work. This was his first Christmas away from his mom and grandmother—he and the rest of the guys had finally found an affordable apartment, and they wanted to spruce it up for the holidays. Steven and Duff had gone out to get the booze, and Izzy and Axl had gone to get the wrapping paper, leaving Slash in charge of the decorations. Not like he really minded—he'd always been artsy. Suddenly the door opened, and Izzy and Axl came in, laughing and clutching their bags, cheeks flushed from the cold. Immediately Slash felt his own face gett

He sits on the mattress, naked but for a pair of boxer shorts, artistically long fingers loosely holding a smoldering cigarette. Slowly he brings it to his lips, breathing in, watching the embers glow red as his hair. He draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his free arm around his legs, and suddenly he's crying again, silvery tears marking their course over his enhanced cheekbones, down the hollows of his pale face. He hears footsteps, but doesn't turn. A moment's pause, and then there's Slash in the doorway, at the bed. He sinks down beside Axl, holding his own cigarette, and the singer hesitates before offering him his lighter, an unspok

He comes in, in a flurry of red hair and jangling bracelets. I barely have time to stand before he tackles me, nearly throwing me against the wall of the hotel room. His fingers grip my shoulders as he pushes me between his heated, pale body and the cracked plaster. I feel his leather-clad thigh pushing between my legs as he grinds his half-hard crotch against mine, and I moan into his mouth as my own cock twitches. His kisses are fierce, more teeth than skin, and I have to admit it's turning me on. Usually I'm the dominant one when it comes to our sex life, but not tonight. After a while, he breaks away from me and stares hard into my eyes.