We've Got Fun and Games

Let The Games Begin

So this is finally becoming a fic. I started this as part of an one-shot collection but I had great inspiration for it, so I decided to go for it.

For the first time since meeting the young guitarist, Axl was left alone with him. They had hung out together a few times along with the other three band mates but they had never spend even a second alone without the presence of someone else.

Axl felt weird. For some reason, unknown to him, the younger man made him nervous. He seemed like a cool enough guy, Duff and Steven adored him and even Izzy seemed willing to rise from the dead at certain times in order to communicate and spend time with the curly haired man.

Maybe it was the other's laidback nature that made Axl so nervous, the way he just emitted coolness without so much as an ounce of effort, the fact that he appeared to not possess the ability to worry about anything, the way he spoke few carefully chosen words, -in sharp contrast to Axl who spoke at the speed of ten thousand words per second, without at all filtering what escaped his mouth-, the way he always spoke the truth, but always in such a way so as to not hurt others' feelings.

Maybe it was the fact that he was so undeniably attractive, with his golden skin that was stretched over miles and miles of taut muscle and that looked so beautiful under the hot sun, -once again in contrast to Axl, whose skin turned into a nice shade of lobster red if he were to ever lay under the sun for more than a millisecond-, with his warm brown eyes that always seemed to say so much more than his mouth and that dared to hold Axl's gaze for far longer than anyone he'd ever known and held such fire that could rival the pits of hell, with his wild curls that looked like a lions untamable mane, with his exotic aura.

Maybe it was the fact that he was openly bisexual, saw no reason to hide the fact that he enjoyed both feminine beauty and delicacy and masculine handsomeness and brutality and was also completely unashamed of that fact.

And also maybe it was the fact that he seemed to see right underneath carefully constructed persona of 'lover of the all female beauty' because yes Axl was a sex addict, that much was obvious, but of a sex very different that the one that he publicly adored and much closer to his own, seemed to see right into his inner most passions, could see his natural inclination towards his own sex.

And maybe it was the fact that those eyes of his that were so full of fire seemed to provoke him, to dare him to act on his hidden desires, to dare him to be as unashamedly himself as the guitarist was.

And now as Slash stared at him, he cursed Izzy for going to fuck a stupid bitch he had met a few weeks ago, and he prayed to God that a fucking brick or something equally heavy and deadly fell on Duff's and Steven's head for getting so drunk and high they passed out. Fuck them all he thought, for leaving him alone with the guitarist.

He also cursed himself for being completely sober and also Slash who was simply holding a glass of Jack, only taking a sip once every few minutes -nowhere near the necessary speed to get even close to drunk-, the bottle on the floor next to him almost full.

"Do you want some?" Slash asked pointing to the bottle.

"Sure" Axl agreed hoping that the alcohol would reduce his nerves. Wishful thinking.

Slash lent down to pick the bottle and handed it to him as he repositioned himself on the couch where they were sitting, leaning his back to rest against the couch arm and extending his legs in front of him, plopping them on Axl's lap.

Axl froze and loudly gulped down the whiskey that he had in his mouth as he stared at the guitarist's feet, which were completely bare, briefly noticing that his toenails were messily painted black.