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‘What the fuck was that?’ Izzy grits out when he finds Axl still lingering around the dressing room. He´d stormed off a mere few minutes ago, leaving Izzy and the rest of the band to fend for themselves in front of a rowdy disappointed crowd with an angry promoter breathing down their backs.
Izzy is pissed and tired and oh so fucking done with this bullshit. He´s not in any mood to deal with Axl right now unless he wants a murder charge on his hands. And sure, the satisfaction would make it worth it. But then again, going to jail just because of Axl? Yeah, not really his style.
‘Fuck you!’ Axl spits, still riled up over something so ridiculously miniscule that Izzy just wants to strangle him. How can one person – one tiny person with the face of an angel and a voice like sin – be such a terrible bastard? How can the boy Izzy used to hang out with, who used to be just Bill a short little while ago, have turned into this?
Izzy has told himself time and again, that he won´t let it get to him anymore. He won´t fight Axl over stupid shit. No, he´ll breathe in and out, count to ten, and stay calm in the face of disaster. Sometimes he thinks this is what Axl wants. Rile him up just to get a reaction. And fuck it, Izzy´s so goddamn tired but if Axl actually planned this, it´s fucking working. He can´t let it go this time.
‘Let me get this straight. You fucking walked off stage, because someone threw their cup at you,’ he says and struggles to keep his voice even.
‘It wasn´t just a cup!’ Axl fumes.
Oh, Izzy´s really had it with this shit. ‘It was an empty cup!’
‘That guy´s had it in for me all night!’ Axl voice goes all high-pitched. It reminds Izzy of the times back home when Axl used to go on one of his rants – about his dad, or God, or the fucking police, or some teacher or whatever. Angry and oh so desperate for someone to listen. It had always been fascinating to Izzy. He had never thought it was pathetic - not until know. Even back then, he had always known whose side he was on, but today Axl is really testing his patience.
Axl´s face is red and he´s panting. If Izzy thinks back, he´s not sure he´s ever seen him this worked up before.
‘Ruined my fucking pants, the bastard!’ Axl growls and Izzy is not sure whether to scream or fucking laugh. Sometimes he gets this irrational urge to rip out his own hair from sheer frustration. But this is kind of funny. Sad…maybe. But funny in a fucked up sort of way.
‘You fucking diva!’ he snaps and his voice packs so much venom that he´s surprised Axl remains standing on his own two feet. He´d never thought it would get to this. He´s supposed to be the laid-back one.
Axl´s face turns crimson and Izzy thinks he looks a bit like a cornered animal - an angry cornered animal ready to pounce.
‘So you thought, you´d call it a night?’ Izzy is not sure why he keeps talking when they are so clearly headed for the fight to end all fights. Was there ever any sense in poking the caged lion with a stick?
He hears the door open behind him - hears voices. 'Oh shit,' someone says and there´s nervous laughter. Axl throws a furious look over Izzy´s shoulder at whoever had dared interrupt their little heart-to-heart. The door slams shut and they are alone again.
Fucking cowards. All of them.
‘Screw you! These were 500$!’ Axl growls, picking right back up where they left off. Izzy has no clue why he just keeps digging.
It takes a moment for the shit Axl´s just spouted to really sink in. Then it does and Izzy´s blood reaches boiling point. He just sees red.
He grabs Axl´s arm and uses the element of surprise to slam him back against the wall. Axl grunts in pain, struggles and Izzy has to use his whole body to hold him in place. Their faces are so close he can smell the nicotine on his breath and the fucking ridiculous girly shampoo he uses to keep his hair looking as nice as it does.
‘You say that again,’ Izzy demands, grabbing Axl´s other arm and holding him still. They are chest to chest, bodies pressed together closely. There´s no room for escape. Izzy feels the warmth of Axl against him, the way he´s moving oh so subtly – labored breath against his ear.
Axl looks unsure for only a second and barely misses a beat when he grits out. ‘These cost fucking 500$ and that guy tried to grope me.’ He sounds so utterly disgusted that for a moment it gives Izzy pause. Huh. That´s definitely new information.
‘Grope you like what?’ he asks, because surely there´s more to the story.
‘What do you think?’ Axl says gazing down between their bodies and for a short moment he seems distraught.
‘I don´t know. Tell me,’ Izzy snarls, wondering if he´ll have to beat up two people tonight.
‘When I jumped into the crowd. Tried to get into my pants and nearly ripped them, the bastard!’ Axl´s anger is back. Izzy feels it in the way Axl´s whole body tenses up, a tightly-strung bundle of muscles and flesh under his hands.
‘Okay, so you´re saying,’ Izzy takes a deep breath and valiantly tries to push down the simmering rage, ‘you´re not angry, because that fucker tried to assault you. You´re angry, because he tried – not succeeded – to ruin your stupid pants.’
‘These are the latest fashion.’ Axl says it like it´s a reasonable explanation.
Izzy bites his lip. Counts to ten. Counts to twenty. Axl is wearing fucking leggings. The kind that really leave nothing to the imagination. He looks utterly stupid. He really, really should look stupid.
‘That´s not fashion,’ Izzy states matter-of-factly. ‘That´s a mental breakdown.’
Axl fucking headbutts him.
It happens so fast that even though by now Izzy is an expert in gouging Axl´s varying levels of rage, he doesn´t see it coming. Just feels the gruesome aftermath. The way his lip bleeds because he accidentally bites down on it. The pain behind his eyes. He´s surprised there aren´t tiny cartoon birds fluttering around his head.
Of course, Axl´s move had also made him stumble and lose his grip, so now they are on even footing again.
‘Fuck you, I´ve fucking seen the way you stare!’ Axl pokes a sharp finger into Izzy´s chest and glowers.
And wow, that´s alright. If he wants to play it like that-
‘Oh yeah?’ Izzy smirks. ‘Maybe because of that huge rip down there.’ He points at Axl´s pants.
Axl pales. ‘What? No-,’ he turns and tries to check out his pants in the dressing room mirror, then stops abruptly and puts his hands on his hips. Furious eyes turn on Izzy. ‘That´s not even fucking funny.’
‘Made you look, though,’ Izzy says drily. He can´t help but be amused by Axl´s antics, even though he still kind of wants to throttle him.
Izzy can´t put his finger on why he still feels so angry despite himself. Axl throws another glance in the direction of the mirror and it gives Izzy time to get his bearings back. He grips Axl and pushes him back against the wall - holds him down with an arm across his chest.
Axl looks stunned for a second, then intrigued. A devious little grin spreads on his face. ‘Oh, are we still doing this? You gonna teach me a lesson?’
Izzy wants to punch the smug look off his face.
‘Shut up for once in your fucking life,’ he says, but his words lack conviction. The worst thing is, even he doesn´t know why he´s still so hell-bent on a fight.
‘Seems you have bigger issues than I do,’ Axl says, sounding surprised and only slightly malicious.
Izzy´s grip on him is loose at best and he can feel Axl winding his way out of it before he has a chance to react. But Axl doesn´t use the sudden momentum to push Izzy away, because he never does things the way any normal person would. Izzy is sure that one day he´s gonna be the death of him.
Axl rips himself out of Izzy´s grip, places his hands on Izzy´s hips and pulls him flush against himself. Izzy gasps.
‘Maybe you should try a little harder, Iz,’ Axl´s voice rumbles close to his ear, warm breath on his neck. ‘Just so you can convince yourself.’ He punctuates his words with a thrust of his hips against Izzy´s – surely feeling the effects of what Izzy can only attribute to the rush of adrenaline and a night of being on edge.
To his utter shock, Axl´s not better off and it makes him feel light-headed.
Izzy grips Axl´s shoulder and pulls him around. Axl fumbles for a moment, then gets a hold of Izzy´s arm to steady himself. It has the opposite effect, though. Together they stumble backwards and land in a heap on the couch.
Axl makes a sound as if the air is being punched right out of him as Izzy lands on top. He gets a fucking elbow to the chest and it hurts like a bitch.
‘Ow, you asshole!’ Izzy growls trying to dislodge himself from Axl´s grip.
But Axl won´t budge. He shuffles around a little and suddenly Izzy finds himself between his legs in a position that´s so fucking similar to their previous one and yet so loaded with new implications.
‘Got you hard, though.’ Axl´s got this smug, self-satisfied way of stating uncomfortable truths that´s landed him in many a fight in the past. The difference is that this time, Izzy finds himself on the other end of it and it´s not a great place to be.
That´s right, he thinks, this fight is not over yet. No matter how their positions have changed. It´s the only reason he can come up with later for why he just throws caution to the wind and runs with it.
Izzy pushes his hips down hard and enjoys the way Axl groans as their cocks rub together through layers of clothing. He rolls his hips and thinks about the way the rigid denim of his own jeans must feel against Axl´s cock – the zipper pressing painfully into his own erection surely all the more agonizing when felt through a thin layer of jersey. He places a hand in Axl´s hair and pulls - a weird mixture of anger and lust simmering inside his chest.
‘God, Izzy. Fuck,’ Axl groans beneath him and wraps his legs around him.
Izzy thinks he´s lost his fucking mind. They probably both have.
‘You should be grateful,’ Izzy growls and Axl stares open-mouthed, breath hitching with every thrust of Izzy´s hips. ‘Did you see how many people were here tonight? Did you even fucking see that?’
‘So?’ Axl pants and wraps his arms around Izzy´s neck, fingernails digging into his skin in a way that´ll probably leave bruises.
‘So?’ Izzy mimics incredulously. ‘So you left them hanging, too.’ Like us, he thinks, but doesn´t say.
‘I´m not…,’ Axl snarls, but doesn´t finish because then they hear footsteps, rustling outside the door and hushed words.
They both freeze and wait.
Nothing happens. No one interrupts them. The footsteps become quiet as whoever it was leaves. They should stop. They really should.
Izzy thrusts his hips down hard once more and Axl moans.
‘Shut up, do you want them to find us?’ Izzy hisses.
‘Do you care?’ Axl asks heatedly, but his bravado is betrayed by the way his eyes keep flickering to the door.
Why they keep going – why he feels like he couldn´t even stop if he tried – is something Izzy will ask himself later, when he´s alone in his room and questioning his life choices.
‘You think you´re too good for this, Stradlin?’ comes Axl´s taunting voice.
God, he´s such a dick. Izzy wants to shut him up so bad - still kind of wants to punch him just to get him back in some way. Instead, he bends down, presses his lips to Axl´s mouth and thinks of every time he´s ever wanted to make him pay. Axl makes a choked-off sound and Izzy knows he can probably taste the blood of his split lip and feel the way Izzy´s movements just sped up.
There´s suddenly a hand at his hip, fingers playing over the waistband of his jeans and Izzy knows Axl so well that he can already tell where this is going. Axl tries to get his hands on his zipper and Izzy bats him away. When Axl tries to push his own pants down, Izzy sits up and grabs his hands to hold him still. Axl makes a sound of protest and tries to pull Izzy´s hands down towards his cock instead.
‘Stop it, I´m not touching that,’ Izzy growls and immensely enjoys the way Axl´s eyes go all wide.
‘Bu- What the hell, Izzy?’ Axl sputters and God, he can be such a spoiled little brat sometimes. So used to getting what he wants. It´s about time that someone puts him in his place.
‘You heard me.’ Izzy smiles and relishes in the way Axl squirms around underneath him.
‘At least let me take off my pants,’ Axl begs and Izzy raises an eyebrow. ‘I don´t want to ruin them, Izzy, please!’
Izzy would lie if he claimed that he doesn´t enjoy Axl begging. He had never thought he´d ever get to hear it. And of course it would be because of some stupid ugly designer pants. But whatever. Win´s still a win - at least in Izzy´s book.
‘Not my fault you make bad financial decisions,’ Izzy says with a grin.
Axl gapes at him.
‘What makes you think, you´ll even get a chance to ruin your precious pants?’ Izzy taunts.
‘Izzy, for fuck´s sake!’ Axl looks like he´s one more insult away from jumping up and bursting into flames.
‘Shut up,’ Izzy snaps. ‘You did this! You got yourself into this position.’
Axl fucking bursts out laughing. ‘So what? You´re saying you´re not getting anything out of this, Izzy? Fuck you!’ He throws a pointed look at Izzy´s cock.
‘Oh, I´m getting everything I want,’ Izzy drawls and pushes Axl´s hands up above his head with a little too much force.
Axl makes a pained sound, but doesn´t struggle.
‘You´re such a smug bastard, Stradlin. Always thinking you´re better than the rest of us,’ Axl sighs and Izzy´s not sure where that´s suddenly come from. ‘At least take you´re fucking shirt off.’
Izzy stares, stumped by the sudden change of topic.
‘Come on,’ Axl whines and Izzy ignores him. He lets go of his hands and lays back down on top of him.
Axl wraps his arms around him once more, hands wandering under his shirt and clawing at his back. It feels like quiet revenge.
Izzy doesn´t mind. The pressure against his cock is starting to feel more painful than pleasant as he ruts down against Axl, but Axl moans like he´s never felt anything better in his life and that in turn gets Izzy going.
There´s still a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, that they never even locked the door. Someone could walk in at any point. It makes his cock twitch and he pulls away for a brief moment to finally open his jeans and get his zipper down. Then it´s bare skin against ridiculously soft and stretchy pants and Axl almost screams in frustration.
Izzy feels the hard ridge of Axl´s cock against his own and they are so close, it´s almost the same as being naked.
‘Stop that,’ Axl whimpers, but the words sound empty and flat. ‘Stop that, or I´ll make you pay.’
‘And ugh…how´d you do that? Izzy pants out between thrusts.
‘I know what you´re into now,’ Axl grits out, ‘don´t think I didn´t notice how this gets you off, when everyone could walk in. We´ll do this again and just you wait.’
‘You wouldn´t dare…,’ Izzy says, even though he´s not even sure what level of revenge they are talking here.
‘Try me,’ Axl grunts, rolling his hips up against Izzy´s pointedly.
‘You think I´d go along with that?’ Izzy pants.
Axl raises an eyebrow. He looks at the door again, then down between their bodies. And yeah, point taken.
The waist of Axl´s pants is so ridiculously low, that on his next thrust Izzy feels the head of his cock rub over Axl´s bare abdomen. Axl groans. Izzy lets his head fall forwards, buries his face in Axl´s hair and speeds up his movements. He takes note of the way the fabric rubs against his sensitive skin. He shudders as the head of his cock nearly catches on the waistband. He feels himself slide along Axl´s warm stomach once more and comes so hard, his eyes roll back in his head - comes all over Axl´s skin and the front of his pants, too.
‘No! You fucking dick!’ Izzy hears Axl groan and then there´s teeth against his neck.
Axl fucking bites him and moans while doing so. He stills underneath Izzy and then he´s shuddering through his own orgasm and no doubt messing up his beloved pants even more. Izzy snorts.
‘Smug fucking bastard,’ he hears Axl pant.
‘Yeah, yeah, love you, too,’ Izzy snarls. He belatedly realizes that it´s not even a fucking lie and his stomach drops.
‘Yeah,’ Axl exhales slowly, trying to catch his breath. He puts one arm over his forehead, while one hand remains firmly on Izzy´s hip, fingers squeezing into his flesh. ‘Yeah, I know.’