3.9 Inches Long and 1.4 Inches Wide

That's A Nice *Cock* You Got There

I forgot to add this before lol. I've finally updated this book 🎉. This is more of a filler chapter in which Slash's feelings are explored a bit more. Smut ensues of course.

It was a warm Sunday morning, one of those lazy ones they both cherished where they had nothing to do and no obligation to interact with the outside world, a simple sunny morning they could enjoy alone, just the two of them.

It was currently around 11 o'clock in the morning and they were in Axl's house, both still in bed, with no intentions of getting up any time soon, the breeze from the half open window relaxing and welcome as it caused the sheer curtains to fly into the room and allowed the warm sun beams to enter, the soft rays of light playing on their skin, naked torsos exposed to the sunlight and a light white sheet wrapped around their hips.

Axl was sitting a bit upright, with his back against two stacked fluffy pillows, while Slash was lying next to him, on his side, with his head on Axl's chest and one leg tangled between Axl's.

The TV was on and Axl was watching a recorded version of last night's episode of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire', cockily answering every damn question under his breath while he absentmindedly ran his fingers through Slash's soft curls.

Slash wasn't paying any attention to the show but he chuckled every time Axl let a derogatory snort at the competitors' ignorance and stupidity. He snuggled closer to Axl, and he brought his hand to rest on Axl's torso, feeling the toned muscles underneath his finger pads.

And as the hardness of the muscles underneath him registered in Slash's brain, and the perfection it implied, Slash's brain flooded with unwanted thoughts, thoughts of self-doubt, thoughts of worthlessness, thoughts of never being good enough, thoughts of why the fuck is Axl sparing me the time of day when he can have anyone he wants, when he can have someone with an actual dick instead of a masculinised clit.

All these thoughts made him sick to the stomach and as tears began to form in his eyes, he hid his face behind his curls and he tightened his grip around Axl. Axl didn't notice the change in Slash's mood, too busy laughing at the idiot on the screen who said that the Dalai Lama is the spiritual leader of Catholics, and mistook Slash's actions as Slash being the needy and affectionate motherfucker he usually was when he woke up, so he didn't give it a second thought and just placed an arm around Slash, rubbing small circles on his back, and continued to watch the show.

Slash tried to focus on the way Axl's chest rose as he let out another hearty laugh as a different competitor said that totem poles were made by the Zulus of Southern Africa. He watched and felt Axl's sharp inhalation and he listened to the way his deep laugh caused his chest and the air around him to vibrate as it slowly reached Slash's ear. Slash couldn't help but smile at the sound but his intrusive thoughts remained intact, unbothered by Slash's efforts to drown them, instead getting worse, more powerful and invasive, ringing in his ears louder than the echoes of Axl's laugh and Slash unconsciously let a few tears run down his face, landing on Axl's chest, closely accompanied by a sad sniffle.

"Slash, what's wrong, baby boy?" Axl asked, voice laced with concern as he finally took notice of the crying guitarist in his arm.

"N-n-nothing" Slash sniffled, hiding his face further in Axl's chest.

Axl put a finger under Slash's chin and slowly raised the younger man's head, forcing his gaze to meet Axl's.

"Don't hide from me, darling. I'm only here to help "Axl said softly, moving his hand to cup Slash's face and pulling some of the messy curls away from it.

Slash only sniffled in response and as he started into Axl's kind caring eyes the thoughts of how much he didn't deserve him came back stronger and he broke down completely, hiding his face in Axl's chest again and violently trembling in the older man's arms.