Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The hotel room smelled like beer, cigarettes, and sweat. It was a smell all too familiar to Slash, a smell that became a sign he was at home. He could never feel completely at ease, though; something had been tormenting him for all too long. It wasn’t a what; it was a who. It all started when Slash started noticing things between two of his band members, Izzy and Axl. They would stare at each other a little too long, eye contact turning heavy and almost sensual. Like they were eye-fucking each other. There were telltale signs, and none of the others seemed to notice. Slash wasn’t sure if they were always too drunk or high to notice, or if they were really just that oblivious. It was beyond obvious; Axl’s high-pitched, animalistic screams would often keep Slash up at night, loud through the paper-thin walls at whichever motel they would be staying at. Somehow, Slash always ended up being the witness. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much; he was used to having the members bring girls around and hear them through the walls. But this, Izzy and Axl, made his throat tighten. It made his blood boil. Anger, no. It was jealousy.

He always considered himself straight. If Izzy and Axl wanted to be gay, he didn’t care, and he definitely wasn’t going to expose them to the rest of the band, although they weren’t doing too great a job of being discreet. Make no mistake, Slash wasn’t attracted to men, but with Axl’s long, auburn hair and pale, slender, almost feminine build, just maybe if he did it from behind, he could imagine-

Slash found his mind going to places they shouldn’t be going to. Was he actually attracted to men? Or just pretty men with a beaming smile?

Slash woke up, dark curly strands of hair tangled in his face, drenched in sweat, and his throat parched.

Need. Water. Slash thought, attempting to brush back his wild, curly mane.

He swung his legs across the bed and attempted to stand up. Too fast. He stumbled, and his head began to pound. All he wanted was some water. He trudged to the kitchen, where he saw two shadows in the dark.

Shit. He thought, trying to be quiet. He didn’t mean to interrupt, but his throat was drier than the Sahara Desert, and he just wanted to wet his whistle. He figured he could slip in without announcing his presence.

His vision adjusted to the dark, and he was able to see the shadows more clearly. It was Izzy sitting on the couch with a long-haired girl grinding on his lap. What the fuck, dude? Couldn’t wait to get to the fucking bedroom? Jesus Christ.

Desperate whimpers came from the woman’s mouth; Shit. He recognized those sounds. It wasn’t a woman; it was Axl. He wanted to keep walking; he just wanted to quench his thirst, but suddenly his thirst wasn’t for water. It was for Axl.

Slash watched Izzy gently move Axl off of him and bend him over the kitchen counter, Slash suddenly feeling the blood rush to a certain, down south part of his body. The noises coming from the two in the kitchen were obscene. Skin hitting skin, and ear-splitting and almost primal moans coming out of both men’s mouths. They were hungry for each other, breeding like animals. Almost as if they were in the wild, a primal urge to be inside of each other.

Slash found himself clutching his length through his oversized boxers. He could feel the warm length on his thigh, begging to be satisfied. Is this really what I’ve come to? Am I a fucking voyeur? He felt ashamed, but the satisfaction was too good, and it drowned out the guilt he was feeling. He watched intently, imagining he was in Izzy’s place.

“God, you’re so tight, Ax. It’s been too long since we last did this.” Izzy muttered, out of breath.

“Can you just shut the fuck up and do me?” Axl said, not letting go of his pride, even when was bent over in front of his childhood friend for 12 years.

“You wanna tell me what to do, baby? While you’re bent over in front of me, like a little slut?” Izzy replied, tone becoming cold.

Izzy began to pound harder, making Axl let out an animalistic cry.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Izzy said, grabbing Axl’s leg and swinging it over his shoulder so he could punish him further. The moans became louder and louder, and Slash became closer and closer. It was better than any tape the boys had watched together, and Slash tried to save it in his memory. Slash tightened his grip around his throbbing length and began to twist his wrist even harder, feeling the heat pooling in his belly.

So much for a glass of water. Slash thought as he became closer and closer to the finish line. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he began to pump harder and harder. He let out quiet whimpers, trying not to take his eyes off of usually dominant, firecracker Axl being broken down into pieces, desperate, begging for more. He closed his eyes and imagined it was him behind Axl, imagined he was the reason he was making those obscene noises, when-
He felt the waves of his orgasm crash over him, slowly at first and all at once. He let out too loud a grunt, and he heard Axl and Izzy stop. Shit. He thought he was only a couple of feet away from them, in the hallway. He ducked into the restroom, and he heard shushing noises coming from the kitchen.

“Is someone there?” Axlcalled out, out of breath.

Slash froze, and he heard footsteps coming towards him. There was a knock on the door.

He looked a mess, tip still peeking out of his bottoms, and the telltale remnants of his orgasm on his belly. He heard the doorknob creak. Fuck! Slash thought, backing up towards the shower.

He saw the auburn, messy, pulled-on hair swing from across the door, and the green eyes came next. They widened in shock at what they saw, jaw dropping.

“Looks like you made a little mess there, Slasher,” Axl said, closing the door behind him.

“Yeah, I was just uh, using the bathroom,” Slash said nervously, cornered in the bathroom.

“Now we both know that ain’t true,” Axl said, coming closer to Slash, locking the door. Slash gulped.

“So, care to explain what all that white liquid is on your stomach? Or should I try and find out myself?”

Axl was clearly drunk. Or high. Or both? Slash felt himself hardening again; nervous, excited, and anticipating what would happen next.

“Shit, Axl. Come on, man, I thought you were a chick-” Slash said, trying to think of a way to explain himself.

“You think I don’t notice the way you stare at me, Curly? You think you’re slick?” Axl replied, dragging a long, slender, pale finger down from Slash’s hairy chest, and down. Down. Down. Suddenly, those pale fingers were wrapped around Slash’s cock.

“Oh, I’ll show you I’m not a chick,” Axl said, twisting his wrist along Slash’s long, hairy length, and dropping to his knees.

“Hey, what about Izzy?” Slash said, but he found himself not being able to care about Izzy or the consequences. He had been craving this for so long, he was ready to accept whatever punishment would follow.

Slash’s length was engulfed by the warm, dark, wet tunnel of Axl’s mouth. He could feel his tip hitting the back of Axl’s throat, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. It was almost embarrassing for him how quickly it had been.

“Can a chick do this?” Axl said, mouth full, swirling his tongue around Slash. He let out soft whimpers, his hair hanging in his face. Slash grabbed Axl’s long, red hair and pulled his head closer. He felt the familiar sensation of the heat pooling in his belly, like a good stretch that keeps stretching and keeps getting better. His orgasm exploded like fireworks, shooting down Axl’s throat and black spots dancing in his vision.

“Damn, red. Didn’t know you had it like that.” Slash said, out of breath.

“Shut up, Slasher. Go to bed. And don’t speak a word of this, got it?”

“I make no promises.”

Chapter Text

Axl sat next to Izzy on the worn-out, torn-up leather couch. Slash shot a nervous glance at Axl, who looked back with a smirk. Izzy looked from Axl to Slash, squinting, trying to read what they were saying with their conspicuous glances. Duff and Stevie joined in, clearly sensing the awkwardness in the air. What happened the night before hung a nervous tension over the air. Axl was higher than a kite, and drunk. That’s all it was: a drunken mistake. But Slash always thought drunken words were just sober thoughts, and that’s all he could think of. He wasn’t sure how much of it Axl remembered; he was blackout drunk. But clearly, he remembered something; otherwise, he’d be his normal, firecracker self. Slash had been craving Axl ever since that night, wanting him even longer. He wasn't sure if it was because he was fucking beautiful, almost feminine, or if he was actually gay. But he did know, Axl was making him question his normally rigid sexuality, and he wasn't sure how much he liked it.

“Alright, what the hell is going on between you three?” Duff asked, breaking the silence.

“Right. Slash couldn’t even get through his guitar solo without shooting a weird look at you. What’s going on?” Steven added.

“Nothin,” Slash said, a little too quick, dismissing their concerns.

“Jesus fuck, guys. Nothing’s going on. Can we get back to practicing?” Axl said, losing his patience.

So that’s what they did. They went back to practicing. They had a show in 3 hours; that’s what they needed. Right?

“Guns n’ fucking Roses!” Axl shouted into the mic as the familiar beat of Welcome to the Jungle started playing. Slash couldn’t look at Axl without thinking of the bliss he had experienced the night before, and couldn’t look at Izzy without feeling pangs of guilt. He wishes he had never heard him and Axl, never witnessed their longing, yearning gazes toward each other. Slash fingered his guitar effortlessly, the energy from his soul flowing into each note. Izzy smiled at him in approval; they were killing it. Izzy and Slash had great chemistry, Izzy’s riffs combining with Slash’s to create a perfect harmony. Duff gave them the backbone, the base (haha, get it? bass?) of everything that was being played. And Axl’s voice, going from high-pitched shrieks to low, sultry notes, was the cherry on top. Not to mention the groovy swing Steven’s drumming added to the contrasting, hard rock music. It was a perfect symphony. The energy from the band members flowed to the crowd, and the crowd gave it right back, like a cycle.

Slash hammed through his solo, when Axl came up to him and wrapped his arm around his shoulder, from behind, screaming in his ear. Axl bit the back of the curlyhead’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. Neither the audience nor the band could see much through Slash’s wild mane of curly hair.

“Ax. What are you doi--” Slash’s question was cut off by the feeling of something poking his lower back. He was hard.
“And when you’re high, you never, ever wanna come down!” Axl shouted into the microphone, grinding into Slash’s back like a horny teenager. Slash leaned back, draping his hair over Axl’s shoulder, still going at it furiously on his guitar. Slash shot a glance at Izzy, who was too busy absorbed in his guitar playing to notice. Besides, it didn’t look suspicious. They were touchy during performances all the time. Axl began to grind harder, at a steady rhythm, gripping Slash’s hair. It was the drum break, and Axl leaned down and whispered in Slash’s ear.

“Looks like someone’s excited to see me,” Axl said, peeking down at Slash’s boner poking through his black, shiny leather pants. Slash quickly covered it with his guitar, Axl still rutting onto Slash’s behind.

“Blow me,” Slash said quietly, meant as an insult. He quickly realized the second meaning that could have, “I mean, it’s not like you haven’t already done that.”

Axl chuckled. Steven was watching them from behind, banging on his drums. Axl peeked behind him, seeing Steven raising an eyebrow. He said nothing, though. It wasn’t worth getting into.

They finished the show after two hours of sweat, passion, and energy.

“Thank you! Goodnight!” Axl screamed into the mic before he slammed it against the ground. All the boys were drained, but Axl was energized from a touch too much cocaine and laughter. Not only that, but the experience he had with Slash on the stage, was exhilarating for him.

The boys all hopped into their tour bus. The drive to the motel was nearly silent, except for Axl humming and occasionally asking hyperactive questions.

“Can we get ice cream? I heard there’s a good parlor down there.”

“Can we stop and get some more Jack?”

“Yo, I gotta pee, pull over.”

Everyone, dead tired, ignored Axl. Axl was sitting between Izzy and Slash on the big seat, Duff and Steven each lying on their respective bunks. The bus’s lights were all off, and Izzy was knocked out, leaning on Axl’s shoulder. Things were tense between Axl and Slash after their little fiasco on the stage, and it wasn’t a negative tension. It was a sexual one.

“Ax. What the hell was that on the stage man? Are you trying to get yourself, no, us in trouble?” Slash snapped. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed it, but he couldn’t fully knowing Axl was Izzy’s. That was the way it was supposed to be, the way it had always been.
“I was just performing the song.” Axl replied, lying through his teeth.

“Axl. What about Izzy, dude? Don’t you love him? You’ve known each other for so long; you’re inseparable. Whatever you’re trying to get from me you can get from him. There’s no reason to be doing this.”

“Maybe you’re right, Slasher.”

“I know.” Slash said, regretting he had said anything. Axl’s thigh was practically on top of his, and Slash found a certain body part of his starting to get excited.

“But you’re not gonna miss this?” Axl replied, reaching for Slash’s very obviously hard cock.

“Shit, man.” Slash groaned. He shot a side eye towards Izzy, who was still knocked out.

Axl reached into Slash’s pants, and boy, he was long. It was unlike anything Axl had ever seen before. Not that Axl had seen anyone else’s except Izzy’s. Axl wrapped his slender fingers around the base of Slash’s cock, stroking it slowly and firmly, and then, increasing his pace until he was pumping.

All rational thinking left Slash’s brain. Izzy was sleeping right next to them, one wrong move and everything would be over. Axl didn’t seem to care, keeping a steady pace.

“Axl, baby, please, we can’t-” Slash was cut off when suddenly Axl’s lips were on his, taking in all the words he was trying to say, silencing him. Axl craned his neck to get closer and closer and deeper into Slash’s mouth, flicking his tongue at his lip as a warning, before their tongues were mixing and they shared the same taste. Axl bit down gently on Slash’s lip, and Slash let out a little whimper. Slash pulled away to whisper, “You wanna hurt me, Axl? Two can play at that game.”

Slash had both his hands in Axl’s auburn mane, yanking his head back with a moan. Axl was still stroking, now at a faster pace, and Izzy was still sleeping like a baby, breathing heavily. Slash crept his hands up Axl’s shirt, gently tugging on his nipple piercing, and he let out a gentle coo.

“You like that?” Slash whispered, yanking on the piercing.

Axl let out another satisfactory noise. “Shut up. The bus driver will hear us. Worse, we’ll wake up one of the guys.” Slash whispered once again.

Before he knew it, Slash had his hand around Axl’s length as well, and they were both stroking each other. Slash leaned his head on Axl’s shoulder, and Axl pushed his head down so Slash couldn’t look at anything but his flushed, hard cock.
Before he knew it, fireworks exploded behind Slash’s eyes, and Axl followed not long after. White heat exploded out of both of them, breathing heavily. They were trying to be as quiet as they could.

They were approaching the motel.

“Alright, everyone, lights on. Get up.” Their assistant, aka driver, Matthew, shouted from the front.

Axl quickly tried to clean himself up, tucking his cock back into his pants, and Slash followed.

Duff emerged from his bunk, hitting his head on the top. “Damn it!” He groaned, rubbing his forehead as Steven got out of his with a problem. “Fucking giraffe,” Steven smirked, and Duff playfully slapped him. Axl attempted to wake up Izzy, but had to shake him violently even to get a reaction.

“Damn, Princess. I’m awake,” Izzy said, voice gravelly, after about forty-five seconds of aggressive shaking.

The boys trudged out of the bus and into the motel, but Axl and Slash hung behind, packing up their spare clothes and cleaning the mess none of the other guys seemed to care about.

“I need to change. Turn around, freakazoid.” Slash said, taking his shirt off.

“Alright, Slasher. Seen plenty’a you before, not sure why it’s an issue now.”

But Axl obeyed, turning around. He couldn’t help but take a peek, though. He had never seen Slash fully naked. Just bits and pieces at different times. Slash had his back turned towards Axl, and Axl couldn’t help but stare at that plump behind. Axl approached him, pressing his hardness in between. Not inserting, just wedging it there.

“What the fuck?”

That was, until the door opened.

“Yo, I left my guit-” Izzy started.

Izzy looked from Axl to Slash. Slash looked from Izzy to Axl, and down at his erection. Axl looked down at him digging into Slash, and up at Izzy.

“The fuck?” Izzy said, sounding more hurt than angry.

Duff sat at the counter, pouring his coffee. Steven poked and prodded him eagerly, excited about some sex tape he received in the mail, he wanted to watch with the boys and laugh at.

Slash and Axl walked into the room as a unit, both sweaty and hair messed up.

“Damn, you guys look like shit. You didn’t shower?” Duff questioned, gesturing towards their tangled hair and familiar smell…almost smelt like sex.

Izzy was in the corner, practicing a riff. He clutched his guitar and slammed it against the ground a little too hard. Everyone’s eyes darted towards him.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Izzy snapped, grabbing the box of Frosted Flakes and knocking it off the counter as he stormed out of the room.

“The fuck’s grumpy’s problem?” Steven chuckled. Axl and Slash made awkward eye contact, and Axl followed Izzy into his room.

Axl had really fucked up big time.

Chapter Text

Izzy and Axl met at a young age. Everything they had ever gone through, they went through together. Back in their hometown, Lafayette, Indiana, they were inseparable. They would walk each other to and from school, arms linked, smiles on their faces. It would gain them dirty looks from Axl’s stepfather, Stephen, but Axl was the only one truly facing the punishment. “What did I tell you about following around that gypsy fag?” Stephen would holler, swinging at Axl.

Every day, Axl would come to school with new purple and red bruises spotted on his arms and torso. Axl never stopped seeing Izzy, though. He’d let Stephen take his life before he gave up his gypsy. Izzy and Axl supported each other through thick and thin. They were made for each other. They were complete opposites: Axl, the sun, Izzy, the moon, yet they existed in perfect harmony and brought out the best in each other.

When Izzy and Axl were just little boys, about 8, they would play eye tag during church service. Stephen would watch them, trying to pick up on even the slightest slip-up to let him know they were anything more than friends. After the church service, Izzy approached Axl. They bonded over their shared love of music, instruments, and records, all of which Axl was not allowed to enjoy freely because music was the “spells of the devil,” according to Stephen.

“Wanna come to my place? I got the new Queen album on vinyl.” Izzy asked, smiling.

“Sure!” Axl grinned, slipping away from the many people trying to speak to Stephen, the reverend.

Axl and Izzy walked to Izzy’s house in silence. The sun peeked through the canopy of trees near the sidewalk, and a gentle late-spring breeze blew both of their longer-than-average hair in the wind. They approached Izzy’s humble abode at the dead end of the street. Izzy stuck his key into the doorknob and twisted it. Their house was full of dark curtains, the smell of sage, and a floral perfumey aroma.

“I’m home, mother! I brought a friend.” Izzy said excitedly. Sonja, Izzy’s mother, approached Izzy and Axl. She tried to hide the surprise she got from Izzy bringing a friend home; it wasn’t typical of him. “Welcome. Make yourself at home.” Sonja smiled, “Would you boys like some cookies? They’ll be out soon.”

“Oh yeah! Thanks, Mrs. Isbell!” Axl beamed. Sonja smirked. She could tell by their auras; they were made for each other. That was the afternoon that started Izzy and Axl’s friendship. The day that started it all.

Lafayette, Indiana, 1979

“Izzy, Izzy, shhh,” Axl groaned from the dark-haired boy’s lap.

“You’re the one who’s being loud, Princess. Just take it.” Izzy replied with a smirk.

Church service was over, and Axl said he was staying to “study the bible.” Little did Stephen know he was really studying something else, something that if Stephen knew about Axl might just not have been alive right now.

Axl rode Izzy, sitting on his lap, in one of the chairs in the back room of the church. He felt so guilty; he knew God was watching him. He felt all his family members, up above, watching him. His face was flushed, and he struggled to think straight with Izzy pumping deep inside of him. Izzy got up and grabbed Axl by the waist, pinning him against the wall. Izzy pressed his lips against Axl’s, still inside of him. Axl parted his lips as if to permit Izzy to enter, and he slipped his tongue in, swapping spit and sharing a mutual taste.

Izzy grabbed Axl by the hips and hiked him up against the wall. Izzy was moving slowly but hard, and holding him up by his waist.

"So beautiful. So fucking beautiful, Princess." Izzy groaned.

"Shh, shh, fuck me." 

Izzy mumbled something in Romani, his eyes rolling back, sweat causing him to struggle to grip Axl. Axl gripped Izzy’s dark hair, whimpering, tilting his head back against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. He felt so full; a pleasant but painful sensation he had never felt before. This was their first time, but Izzy worked Axl so good it didn’t feel like it was. Izzy jerked his hips as if to hit higher and deeper inside of Axl, when he hit a spot that made Axl see stars. Axl let out a primal, high-pitched scream, and Izzy stuck two fingers in Axl’s mouth to silence him.

Axl’s eyes rolled back, drooling onto Izzy’s fingers, and he mumbled strings of words that were completely unintelligible. There were no thoughts behind his eyes at the time; just the pure bliss of Izzy pumping inside of him. He got to let go of his usual bossy, dominant self and let someone else do the work.

Izzy was now mumbling unintelligible Romani words, possibly praises, possibly curses. Axl didn’t care. Izzy fit so perfectly inside of him, like they were made for each other. The sun and the moon. Soon enough, Axl’s eyes were rolling back into his head when Izzy hit him in a certain spot so hard, and he was moaning in ways Izzy had never heard. Axl’s warmth was clenching around Izzy so hard that the contractions were setting off Izzy’s own orgasm. Izzy’s knees buckled, and he stumbled onto the ground, bringing the redhead down with him. Axl lay on top of Izzy, stroking his hair.

“I love you, Gyp.”

“I love you more, Princess.”

Present, LA

“We were made for each other, Ax. We had one argument, and you were drunk. You don’t see me going around doing other people for fun when we’re mad at each other.” Izzy complained, gazing out the window, back towards Axl, who was still standing by the closed door.

“Yeah, you’re right, you don’t. You start fucking dancing with Mr. Brownstone.” Axl snapped back. “Listen, I’m so sorry, Gyp.

“I don’t understand. I’ve never wanted anyone but you; ever since we met at the church service.”

“Baby, I was drunk. I’m so fucking sorry, I swear it won’t happen again.”

“No. Sorry’s not gonna fucking cut it this time, Axl. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you right now. You can’t just fly through everything like a fucking hurricane and expect everyone to forgive you all the time.”

“What else do you want from me? It was a fucking drunken mistake.”

“I’m getting payback.” Izzy snapped. “And you’re going to watch.”

Slash paced in the living room, antsy and afraid. He had messed up big time. Possibly ruined Izzy and Axl’s relationship, and his own with the both of them. All because of a drunken mishap. He was doing well, admiring Axl from afar; of course, he had to get greedy and take it for himself. He didn’t know what to do. He could lie and say he never knew Izzy and Axl were together, or come clean.

“Yo dude, can you sit down? We can’t see the fucking game.” Duff complained, tilting his head to see his stupid basketball game better.

“Shut up, Michael.” Slash snapped, using Duff’s real name. It was only reserved for serious situations.

Duff raised an eyebrow and shot a look at Steven, saying, Get a load of this guy. What’s his problem?

Izzy stepped into the room. “Slash, come ‘ere. We need to have a chat.” Izzy said, dragging Slash by his collar. Slash’s eyes widened in fear. He was surely about to get his ass beaten. (or eaten? heheha)

“So, let’s get one thing straight: Axl and I are meant for each other. I don’t know what you think you’re doing getting between that, but I don’t like it.” Izzy said, once they got to Izzy’s room.

“Listen, man, I’m really sor-” Slash stammered, eyeing Axl in the corner of the room, who was biting his nails.

“No, no, sorry’s not gonna cut it,” Izzy said, rolling up the sleeves of his black polo shirt. He took off his vest and removed his rows and rows of silver bangles on his wrists. He mumbled something in Romani, sounding irritated, and brushed his long, jet-black hair into a ponytail.

Izzy approached Slash. Here we go. I’m about to get the shit beat outta’ me, Slash thought, closing his eyes and squinting. But instead, Izzy grabbed Slash’s curls and dragged him down.

“On yer’ fucking knees, Curly.” Izzy snapped, grabbing Slash’s hair aggressively. You could hear the Indiana in his voice.

Slash’s eyes widened in surprise, and Izzy unzipped his pants. He was already hard. Izzy pulled Slash’s head towards his crotch, forcing him to put his mouth on it. Axl watched in the corner, equally scared as he was turned on. Izzy thrust aggressively into Slash’s mouth, completely using him with no regard for Slash’s discomfort. Axl didn’t know whether to be concerned or excited; he felt a mix of both.

The gagging noises Slash was making were obscene. Izzy was getting close; he pulled out, and Slash caught his breath as well as he could. He was exhilarated, but afraid.

“Come here, Ax,” Izzy said under his breath. Slash stood there, still watching. Izzy forced Axl down onto the bed, pinning his wrists down above his head. Izzy stuck three fingers in Axl’s mouth to lubricate them. Then, he had them inside of Axl. Axl groaned, feeling full, as Izzy curved them up and hit that spot that Axl loved so much. Izzy was still doing it when Slash came up behind Izzy, doing the same, stretching him out. Izzy wanted to protest; he was supposed to be the one in control, but he didn’t, because it felt so damn good. Slash suddenly pulled out, and Izzy moaned at the lost. He walked around the bed and found Axl’s face; he made it his chair.

Izzy was still pumping inside of Axl, and Axl instantly went to work on Slash’s puckered, tight hole. Axl was getting closer; it was no longer Izzy’s fingers inside of him, but a different part of his body. Axl’s length lay against his stomach, fully erect, precum leaking from the milky tip, as well as Slash. Axl put his tongue to work until it was sore. Axl felt fireworks explode beneath his eyelids, and he contracted around Izzy, tightening and loosening, causing Izzy to come right after. Slash then moved from his position on Axl’s face, Izzy grabbing Axl by his hair.

“You’re mine, and only mine,” Izzy muttered. “Say it, Axl.” Izzy yanked Axl’s hair, forcing him to look him in the eye.

Izzy gripped Axl’s length, now soft, but ready to get hard again. “I’m yours.”

“You hear that, Curly? He’s mine, and I better not see you trying any shit like that again or there will be consequences.”

Izzy snapped, grabbing Axl and pulling him closer. Slash nodded when Izzy came closer to him and grabbed his long, untrimmed hairy cock.

“Say it. You won’t mess with my Princess again.” Izzy said, glancing over at Axl, whose hair was spread out around him like a fan, still coming down from his high, lying on the bed. “I won’t mess with hi-” Slash said, when Izzy began to stroke him faster. “If you do it again, the outcome won’t be as good as this.”

“I understand-” Slash said. He felt as if he was about to finish, to release, fuck it was going to feel so good-

When Izzy stopped.

“My job here is done, then,” Izzy smirked. “Outta’ my sight.” Izzy pushed Slash out the door, slamming it behind him.

Slash walked into the living room, still hard and irritated. Couldn’t he finish him off? Shit, I guess I deserve it, he thought. He glanced over at the couch and saw looks of horror and disgust coming from Duff and Steven’s faces.

“We didn’t wanna hear that, Slash,” Duff said, chuckling.

“So who sticks it in who? I bet Axl is on top.” Steven laughed.

“Please say it’s Izzy. We have a bet dude-” Duff added. Slash shook his head and left the room. What is this life?