sssnaker

the summer sun filtered through the lace curtains of Mrs. Adler cozy living room, casting warm patterns on the worn carpet. you were twelve, sitting quietly on the edge of the big floral sofa, knees tucked together and hands folded in your lap

your grandma had brought you along for her weekly visit with her new friend, Mrs. Adler. the two older women were already chatting away in the kitchen, laughing about the latest neighborhood gossip

you weren’t the braves kid so you weren’t used to new places, even if it was just a short drive from your parents house. you liked being with your grandma because you made you feel safe but meeting new people made your stomach do little flips

the front door burst open with a loud bang

“Grandma! I’m home! I found the coolest rock by the creek—look how it sparkles when you—”

a boy with messy blonde hair and bright, sparkling eyes came running into the room. he was wearing scuffed sneakers, shorts and a t-shirt with a dinosaur on it. he stopped when he saw you, the rock still clutched in his hand

you blinked at him, cheeks warming

his whole face lit up like someone had turned on every light in the house

“Hi! I’m Steven! Who are you?” he didn’t wait for an answer before plopping down right next to you on the couch, close enough that his knee bumped yours “You’re my grandmas friend’s granddaughter, right? That’s so cool. Do you like rocks? This one’s kinda magic, I think... Or maybe it’s just shiny? Anyway—”

he was talking a mile a minute, waving the rock around like it was treasure. you couldn’t help but smile a tiny bit, even though you felt too shy to say much

your grandma peeked in from the kitchen doorway, exchanging a knowing look with his grandma. both women’s faces softened with identical fond smiles

Steven suddenly stopped mid-sentence and turned to face you fully, eyes wide and earnest “Hey… do you want to be friends?”

you stared at him, surprised by how fast and easy the question came out. no awkwardness. just… Steven

your voice came out quiet and you nodded “O-okay”

“Yes!” Steven pumped his fist like he’d just won a prize “Come on! I’ll show you my fort in the backyard. It’s the best one on the whole neighborhood. My grandpa helped me build it”

he hopped off the couch and offered you his hand without hesitation. after a second, you took it. his palm was warm and a little sticky from whatever this damn little creature was touching before (of course he doesn’t wash his hands)

the two grandmas watched from the kitchen as Steven tugged you gently toward the back door, already chattering about his rock collection (Grandpa said he could play real loud) and how he was going to be a rockstar one day and promised he will show you his guitar skills (non existen btw) later and you happily agreed

“They’re adorable” your grandma whispered, pressing a hand to her heart

Mrs. Adler smiled “I’m really surprised someone can keep up with this little energy demon”

your grandma’s smile faded “...What?”

“Nothing” Mrs Adler smiled and softly patted her arm “I mean, Steven’s been needing a good friend. And look at her—she’s already smiling more than I’ve seen all afternoon”

outside, Steven held forts door open for you like a gentleman “After you, best friend!”

you ducked inside, giggling softly as he followed and immediately started explaining the “secret entrance” he’d made with an old blanket. he didn’t mind that you were quieter he just filled the space with stories and questions, listening patiently when you did speak

by the time the sun started to dip lower, you’d named the shiny rock “sparkles”, ate half a pack of gum and promised to meet again next weekend

Steven walked you and your grandma to the car, waving both arms “Bye! Don’t forget—next time we’re making mud pies! The good kind!”

you waved back, shy but happy, cheeks pink

your grandma chuckled as she started the car “That boy is something else. But I think the two of you are going to be just fine”

you looked out the window, still smiling

the next years with Steven blurred together quickly. your friendship with Steven only grew stronger,you spent most afternoons at your grandmas houses and the spots you claimed as your own—a quiet corner of the clearing with the big oak tree, the abandoned lot behind the old theater where he practiced drumming on buckets, and sometimes your parents’ house when they were out

Steven was still the same ray of sunshine, talking a mile a minute, dragging you into every adventure. you stayed the quieter one but you showed that you cared in the little ways that mattered: packing extra sandwiches for him when he’d forget to eat, slipping him your homemade cookies or showing up at his grandparents door with a thermos of soup when he sounded tired on the phone

at thirteen, Steven decided he was going to be a drummer no matter what. he started doing jobs—washing dishes at the local diner after school, sweeping floors, even helping unload trucks sometimes. he’d come home late, knuckles scraped, clothes smelling like grease, grinning ear to ear about the few dollars he’d earned toward his first real drum kit

you hated it

everytime you couldn’t sleep until Steven came home so you waited for him until he showed up while your parents thought you're sleeping at your grandmas house

headlights finally swept around the corner. Steven hopped off his bike, kicking the stand down with a tired but triumphant clatter. his messy blond hair was sticking up in every direction, his t-shirt stained with dishwater and grease from the diner

“Steven Adler, it’s almost midnight” you said fiercely, standing up as he approached. your voice cracked with worry “What if something happens? You’re out there alone and you’re so… careless. Please be more careful”

he stopped at the bottom of the porch steps, blinking up at you even after a double shift washing dishes. then his face split into that huge, sunshine grin

“Aw, don’t worry so much!” he bounced up the steps two at a time and ruffled your hair with a laugh, messing it up completely. before you could protest, he pulled you into a quick, tight hug. he smelled like lemon soap from the diner sink and boy-sweat but you were used to it by now “I’ve got this. Made ten bucks tonight—closer to my drum kit! And… thanks for waiting up. Means a lot”

you hugged him back harder than you meant to, burying your face in his shoulder for a second “I brought you food. I thought you probably forgot to eat again”

Steven pulled back, eyes lighting up at the paper bag “You’re the best, you know that?” he flopped down on the porch swing beside you, already unwrapping the sandwich “Tell me about your day while I eat? Did you make those cookies again?”

you sat shoulder to shoulder, listening to him talk between bites about the weird customers and how he slipped on the wet floor 10 times and his ass hurts now

he is protective of you too in his own way whenever anyone gave you trouble at school or in the neighborhood. he’d step right in front of you, serious “Back off. She’s with me”

he made friends everywhere: the skater kids at the park, the music nerds, even older guys who let him jam with them. you’d trail along quietly, sticking close to his side while he introduced you with pride “This is my best friend! She’s the coolest, even if she doesn’t talk much” you went along with it, happy just to be included

but there were moments when new girls entered the picture. Steven fell hard and fast like everything he did—usually for some pretty girl from the school he barely attended (he was too busy working or hanging out with friends). he’d gush about them for weeks and you’d feel a quiet twist in your chest, sitting a little further away at the grandmas’ kitchen table or skipping a hangout because “he’s probably with her”

Steven’s biggest crush was on a girl named Lola who hung around the park where the older kids skated. she had big 80s hair and wore her clothes like the rock girls in magazines

you were sitting under your oak tree spot one Saturday, sharing a Walkman—his latest possession—when he started gushing

“She laughed at my joke about the drumsticks today! I think she likes me. I’m gonna ask her to the movies this weekend”

you nodded quietly, picking at the grass. the familiar twist in your chest was back “That’s… nice, Steven. She seems cool”

he didn’t notice your quieter tone. he never did when he was excited. for the next two weeks you saw less of him. he’d wave at you in the hallways or at the grandmas houses but then he’d be off with Lola or practicing with new friends he’d made at the music store

one day your grandma found you sitting on the curb “Honey… it’s okay to feel a little left out. But you know how girls are - they come and go even faster. Now come on I made your favorite dinner”

she was right. two weeks later Lola got bored of Stevens wild energy and moved on to a boy with a car. Steven showed up at your house with a black eye from skateboarding (he said) and a mixtape he’d made for you

“Sorry I’ve been kinda avoiding you. Here—new tapes I copied for you”

even though you had mixed feeling about his girlfriends and all you never showed him that you didn’t care about him. you always were there for him when he needed you and always listened

through it all, you two found your rhythm. late-night talks under the oak tree where he’d share his dreams of Hollywood and rock ‘n’ roll and you’d remind him to eat and rest, handing him a homemade lunch you’d packed “just in case”. him walking you home every single time with his arm casually slung around your shoulders, even when it was out of his way, scanning the streets protectively. shared walkman listening to his favorite bands

on your last day of summer before everything changed you two decided to have a slow river day — a lot of swimming and other shit Steven wanted

the California sun beat down mercilessly. Steven had shown up at your house right after lunch, his wild blond hair even messier than usual from the bike ride over, a beat-up backpack slung over one shoulder and that unstoppable grin lighting up his face

“River day!” he announced, not even waiting for you to invite him in “I packed snacks and my grandmas new blanket. Come on, it’s too hot to stay inside”

seeing him so full of energy melted you into a shy smile “Okay… but you have to promise not to do anything too crazy”

“Me? Crazy? Never” he said with an exaggerated wink, already grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the door

the river wasn’t far away but you had to go there with your bikes so it would be faster — a hidden river spot that widened into a perfect swimming spot surrounded by trees and big flat rocks. it had been one of your secret spots for years but today it felt more special since it was the last day of summer

as soon as you arrived, Steven forgot about his bike, kicked off his sneakers and took of his clothes and ran straight into the water with a loud whoop, soaking you from head to toe before you even set your bag down

“Steven!” you squealed, laughing despite yourself

he surfaced, shaking his blond hair like a wet dog, water droplets catching the sunlight “Your turn! Don’t be shy!”

you took your clothes off too that revealed your cute swimsuit and you went in more carefully but Steven wasn’t having it. he splashed you until you finally splashed him back and soon the two of you were in a full water war—laughing, chasing each other over slippery rocks. at one point he slipped on a mossy stone and pulled you down with him into a shallow waters. you landed half on top of him, both of you breathless and giggling

for a second, your faces were so close that you thought time has slowed down. his bright eyes locked on yours, that sunshine smile softening into something warmer. you felt your heart stutter

then Steven shifted, trying to sit up and your noses bumped awkwardly—followed by your lips brushing in a clumsy, accidental kiss. it was quick, soft and completely unintentional… but your cheeks burned instantly and a fluttery warmth spread through your chest. you liked it. more than you expected. you pulled back, flustered, staring at the water

Steven blinked, then burst into bright laughter, rubbing the back of his neck

“Whoa!—Did we just…?” he grinned but there was a faint pink on his cheeks too “Accident! But… not terrible, right?” he splashed you lightly to break the tension “C’mon, race you to the big rock!”

you nodded quickly, heart racing but the smile wouldn’t leave your face. the kiss lingered in your mind but you both let the fun carry it away

later, as the sun dipped lower you decided to change back to your clothes. Steven headed behind a cluster of thick bushes for privacy “I’ll yell when I’m done!”

you changed quickly behind another set of rocks. but as you stepped out, adjusting your shorts, Steven emerged at the exact same moment from his side—completely naked, towel forgotten on the ground behind him. he had clearly misjudged the timing

you both froze

your eyes widened, face flushing crimson all the way to your ears

Steven yelped, grabbing for the towel and wrapping it around his waist in record time “Oh man—sorry! I thought you were still changing! Don’t look—I mean, you already… Fuck!”

you spun around, hands over your face, mortified but unable to stop the nervous giggle that escaped “Steven Adler! You’re a complete dumbass!”

his laughter rang out behind you, loud and bright as ever “Hey, it’s just me! We’ve known each other since we were little. Nothing you haven’t almost seen before, right?” he came up beside you, now properly covered, gently bumping your shoulder “You’re super red again. It’s cute”

you peeked through your fingers, still flushed but laughing with him. the awkwardness dissolved the way it always did—into teasing and easy comfort. he never made it weird. it stayed light, even if your heart was still pounding

to shake off the embarrassment, Steven declared it was ice cream time. you biked to the little corner store nearby, still damp and sun-warmed. he bought two cones with his latest gig earnings—one for you, chocolate for him—and you sat on the curb outside, shoulders touching

the kiss from earlier hung quietly between you but neither brought it up. instead, Steven talked excitedly about a new band he wanted to jam with and you reminded him to wear his helmet next time he rode late at night. when you finishedyou walked the bikes back toward home

“Best day ever” he said softly

“Yeah” you agreed, shy but happy. little did you know it was an end of some era

life had shifted after the end of summer. Steven was chasing his dream harder than ever—he moved out from his grandmas, searched for a band and even did a few small gigs around LA. you were still his biggest supporter. you went to every show you could, cheering the loudest from the back and later listening for hours as he excitedly described new beats he’d come up with

but the time together had grown thinner. Steven’s energy was now split between you and the scene he was breaking into, so obviously music won. you felt it—the ache of missing your best friend who used to show up unannounced every other day. so you pulled back quietly, spending more afternoons at your grandma’s house, helping in the garden or baking in the kitchen like you did when you were a kid

one golden afternoon, your grandma set down her teacup and gave you that gentle, knowing look “Honey, what’s wrong with you and Steven? You two used to be inseparable. Now I barely see that boy dragging you around”

you hesitated, stirring your tea too long. the words tumbled out softly “He’s just busy with the drums and the bands… I’m really happy for him. I am. But I miss him. It feels like I’m always waiting these days”

“Don’t worry honey, everything will be alright” your grandma patted your hand, eyes soft. later that evening, she “casually” mentioned it to Mrs. Adler over the phone. the grandmas network worked fast

the next day, Steven showed up at your parents door just after dinner, his blond hair messy from rehearsal, a worried crease between his brows

“Hey” he said, stepping inside when you let him in “Can we talk? I’ve heard you’re sad lately. Is it about me?”

you sat on the couch, knees together like when you were twelve. you didn’t want to argue or make him feel guilty “No, I mean it’s okay, Stevie. You’re living your dream. I’m fine. Really”

but he wasn’t buying it. he sat close, knee bumping yours “No, you’re not. Grandma told me you’ve been looking like a sad puppy since I’m not around. Music’s been taking everything but you… you’re the one who’s always had my back” his bright eyes were dimmed with worry “I miss you too. A lot”

you shrugged, giving in with a small smile “Don’t worry about it, Stevie. It’s fin—”

“I do worry” he cut you off softly and suddenly grinned, that familiar unstoppable energy sparking back “Tomorrows night. I’m getting theater tickets—like the old days when we’d sneak in with whatever change we had. Just you and me. Deal?”

you smiled “Deal”

the next evening, you took extra care getting ready. you wore a soft sundress that swirled around your knees, your hair down the way Steven once said he liked it when you were younger, a touch of lip gloss and cardigan in case the theater got cold. when Steven knocked, his eyes widened the second you opened the door

“Woah…” he blinked, that messy blond hair falling into his face as he took you in “You look super pretty. Like, really pretty, stunning even”

you flushed, ducking your head “Thanks… You look nice too”

he offered his arm with a dramatic bow “Milady. Our chariot awaits” (it was his beat-up car but the gesture made you laugh)

the theater was a classic old cinema playing a comedy. the lights dimmed as you settled into your seats near the middle. Steven tried to behave. he really did. for the first ten minutes his hands stayed in his lap. but old habits dies hard. during a quiet scene, his fingers brushed yours on the armrest. then they stayed, lacing loosely together

halfway through the movie, he leaned close, lips near your ear, whispering jokes about the ridiculous plot “Okay, but if that guy trips one more time, I swear! No one is SO clumsy!”

you giggled, trying to shush him. a man in the row behind leaned forward “Hey, can you be quiet!”

Steven whispered “Sorry!” but two minutes later he was at it again, this time quieter “This is almost as bad as that time I tried teaching you drums and you hit yourself in the face with the stick. Remember?”

“Mhm!” you bit your lip to keep from laughing out loud

then his tone shifted. during a slower, romantic scene on screen, he turned his head, studying your face in the flickering light “Sometimes I forget how pretty you are” he whispered. his thumb brushed over your knuckles “Like… I see you every day in my head but then you show up looking like this and it hits me all over again”

your cheeks burned crimson. you squeezed his hand, heart fluttering “Steven…” you murmured shy

his arm eventually slid around your waist, pulling you gently against his side. he kept whispering little praises and jokes, earning another annoyed “Shh!” from behind but neither of you cared

as the credits started to roll on the first film, you and Steven got up and quickly stepped out into the cool night air, still buzzing from the movie. his arm was draped casually around your shoulders, your cheeks still felt warm from all his whispered jokes and that soft “sometimes I forget how pretty you are”. he was grinning like the sunshine kid you’d always known, messy blond hair catching the streetlight

“Best night in a long time” Steven said, squeezing you gently “We’re doing this more often”

you smiled shyly, leaning into him a little as you walked toward his car “I’d like that”

the drive to your house was short, windows down, radio playing low. Steven was humming along, one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally reaching over to brush your thigh. but as you turned onto your quiet residential street and decided to walk the last block for the fresh air cause you wished for more sweetness but of course —as always with Steven — trouble found you

a group of guys was hanging out near the corner, smoking and laughing loudly—Steven’s musician friends from the local scene. one of them, a tall guy with a leather jacket named Ricky, spotted Steven immediately

“Adler! There you are, man!” Ricky called but his tone wasn’t so friendly. two others stepped forward, one of them looking pissed

Steven slowed, instinctively pulling you a little behind him “Hi Ricky, hey guys, what’s up? Not a good time right now. We just came from the movie. Chill”

“Chill?” the angry one snapped, stepping right up to Steven “You think it’s cool that you told that chick at the gig last week I was a shitty guitarist? She was my fucking girlfriend, asshole! Now she won’t even look at me. And you had guts to flirt with her the whole night!”

Steven blinked, hands up “Whoa, whoa—I wasn’t flirting, man! She asked about the setlist and I was just being nice. I didn’t say anything bad about you, I swear! You’re a good guitarist when you’re not drunk off your ass”

that was the wrong thing to say. the guy shoved Steven hard in the chest “You little shit—!”

it escalated fast. Ricky tried to hold that guy back but another friend jumped in and suddenly fists were flying. Steven wasn’t one to back down he swung back. you yelped, pressing yourself against a parked car as the fight spilled onto the sidewalk

you watched in horror as two of them grabbed Steven. he was tough and quick, landing a few good hits but they were bigger and there were more of them. a punch connected with his face—split lip blooming red. another to his ribs. he grunted but kept fighting, protecting you by keeping himself between you and these guys

you couldn’t look. you turned away, hands over your mouth, heart hammering as the sounds of scuffling and curses filled the street “Stop! Please!”

it felt like forever but it was only a minute before the guys backed off, laughing “That’s enough for now, pretty boy”

Steven staggered, blood trickling from his split lip, bruises already forming on his cheek and jaw. his blond hair was disheveled, shirt torn at the collar “That’s all you have? Pathetic...”

in that same second when you heard it you couldn’t believe what he said

the guys turned around “What the fuck did you just said?!”

“Steven!” you grabbed his arm quickly “Run!”

he winced but started running cause he realized what he said “Oh shi—”

you ran as fast as you could to your parents house since the guys were just behind you. Steven still rushed on adrenaline so he kept up with you. your parents were already asleep upstairs—their bedroom light was off. you slipped in through the side door and locking the door behind you

outside, footsteps pounded closer. the guys shouting outside “Come out, Adler! We’re not fucking done!”

your hands shook but something fierce and protective surged through you—the same quiet girl now pushed to her limit. you ran to your dad’s closet, grabbed the shotgun he kept for home protection, loaded it with steady determination despite your racing heart and stepped onto the porch

the guys stopped short at the sight of you—small, usually shy you—aiming the gun their way

“Try to touch Steven and you won’t live to see another day” you said, voice low and deadly serious, even if your hands shook terrible

they stared, stunned. one laughed nervously but they all backed up, hands raised “You crazy bitch!… Whatever, man. Tell your boyfriend we’ll settle it later”

“You won’t. Just try to touch him and see what happens next” you added seriously and they quickly left talking insults under their noses

when it was over you lowered the gun, breathing hard, then rushed back inside, putting it away safely before returning to the bathroom where Steven was

he was leaning against the sink, watching the whole thing through the cracked door. his eyes were wide with awe and pride. you grabbed the first-aid kit with trembling hands and started cleaning him up—dabbing antiseptic on his split lip, gently pressing a cold cloth to the bruises on his face and ribs

“Hold still” you muttered, mad and scared and relieved all at once “You fucking idiot. What did you do to get mixed up with them? I told you you have to be careful with people. You’re always so careless—”

your heart was still racing, cheeks flushed from adrenaline. Steven caught your wrist gently, stopping you mid dab. even with the blood and bruises, that bright grin broke through, a little crooked from the swelling lip

“God… that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” he whispered, voice rough but full of wonder “My quiet girl pulling a shotgun on those assholes for me? I’m so proud of you. You’re tough as hell when you need to be”

you glared at him but your hands stayed gentle as you cleaned the cut “This isn’t funny, Steven! You got hurt. What would you do if I wasn’t there? You would just bleed out on the sidewalk waiting for someone to rescue you? You fucking dumbass”

he pulled you closer by the waist, ignoring the twinge in his side, his messy blond hair brushing your forehead “I know. I’m sorry. But damn… you defending me like that? It’s so hot. You’re always taking care of me and now you go full protector mode?” his thumb traced your flushed cheek “I don’t deserve you”

you sighed, anger softening as you leaned into him, heart still pounding from the fight, the adrenaline “Just… be more careful. For me”

“I will” he murmured, pressing a careful, tender kiss to your forehead despite his busted lip then he cupped your face with both hands and kissed your lips—slow at first but deepening quickly with all the gratitude. you melted into it, fingers curling into his torn shirt

the kiss grew heated fast. Steven pulled you flush against him, wincing a little at the pain in his ribs but not stopping “C’mere” he murmured against your mouth, walking you backward out of the bathroom and toward the living room couch. your parents bedroom was upstairs on the other side of the house—fortunately they were heavy sleepers but you both stayed as quiet as you could

you tumbled onto the old couch together, Steven on top, his messy blond hair falling into his eyes “I’m so grateful” he whispered between kisses, hands roaming “You always take care of me… food, waiting up, patching me up, defending me like a badass. I love you for it. I’ve loved you for years”

“I love you too Stevie” you breathed, shy but certain

his words made your chest tighten. clothes came off in a hurried, his torn shirt, your sundress sliding to the floor. Steven’s hands found your breasts immediately, cupping and squeezing them with open admiration “Fuck, your boobs… I’ve always wanted to touch them like this” he groaned softly, kissing and nipping at them with chaotic hunger, sucking marks into the soft skin while you tried to quiet your whimpers

you were nervous— this was your first time with him and you didn’t want to fuck this up. Steven sensed it, slowing just enough to kiss you sweetly, reassuringly “I’ve got you”

Steven kicked off his jeans and boxers. his cock wasn’t the biggest—average length but nice and thick enough, surrounded by a wild patch of dark blond pubic hair that matched the messy hair on his head. he was already hard, tip glistening. he noticed you looking and gave you that sunny crooked grin. he knew exactly how to use what he had

you blushed hard, arching into his touch as his hand trailed down your belly, trying to stay quiet. his hand slid between your legs, finding you already wet. when his fingers brushed your smooth, shaved skin, he let out a soft, delighted laugh

“Fuck, you’re shaved? So smooth and adorable…” his fingers softly went through your folds “Like silk. So pretty down here” he fingered you for a second before he decided he can’t hold it anymore and slid up his dick through your wet entrance

you gasped at the stretch, clinging to his shoulders. he ran his fingers over the bare skin reverently before gripping your hips and starting to move—chaotic, fast and a little too rough just like his personality. his hips snapped forward in quick, eager strokes, the couch creaking faintly beneath you

you bit your lip hard to stay quiet but moans slipped out anyway “S-Steven… we were supposed to be—a-ah!— friends!”

he laughed breathlessly against your neck, the sound bright even now, and fucked you even faster, pounding into you with that energetic rhythm that left you trembling

“Best friends” he corrected teasingly between thrusts, giving you cute, messy kisses to your lips, your jaw, your breasts “But I can’t stop now… you feel too good. You took care of me all these years… let me take care of you like this”

one hand stayed on your boob, playing with your nipple while the other squeazed your hip. he was rough but loving—nipping at your skin, whispering praises about how perfect you felt, how pretty you looked all flushed and spread out for him. he kept grinding against you on every deep thrust, savoring the sensation

your quiet gasps and his muffled groans filled the living room. you came first, clenching around him hard and Steven followed right after—pulling out with a desperate sound and spilling hot across your belly in messy pulses, blond hair sticking to his sweaty forehead

he collapsed half on top of you, careful not to crush you, pressing soft, grateful kisses all over your face “Holy shit… that was amazing!” he whispered, already reaching for his discarded shirt to gently clean your stomach “Are you okay? Nothing hurts?”

you shook your head and smiled “Everything is okay Stevie, it was so... intense but good” you layed there catching your breath, body buzzing

“Okay, okay. So… how’s my performance?” he whispered, voice full of playful pride, like he’d just finished a killer drum solo instead of fucking his best friend on her parents couch

you stared at him for a second, flushed and dazed, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh “You’re so dumb…” you shook your head, still catching your breath “Uh… 9?”

Steven barked out a loud laugh before quickly muffling it against your shoulder, his body shaking with it “Only a 9?! I’m wounded! I’ll have to practice more. A lot more! Probably with my hand...” he smiled and kissed you messily, still chuckling

he was terrible at aftercare

Steven tried — he really did — grabbing his crumpled shirt again and wiping you between your thighs in clumsy strokes, then attempting to pull the throw blanket over both of you but mostly just tangling it around your legs. he planted random cute kisses on your collarbone and cheek and kept shifting around restlessly, too wired with energy to settle properly

it was so weird… but you liked it. the chaos was pure Steven but you were used to it

but the worry crept back in fast. for a second you forgot about the bruises on his ribs and jaw that were darkening and the cut on his lip had started bleeding again from all the kissing and grinning. he’d been beaten up barely an hour ago

“Stay here” you whispered, slipping out from under him. you padded quietly to the kitchen, grabbing ice packs from the freezer, glass of water and some Advil from the cabinet. when you came back, Steven was sprawled on the couch like he owned it, watching you with a lazy, satisfied smile

you gently pressed an ice pack to his cheek and another to his ribs, making him hiss “You’re such an idiot” you muttered, still flushed from everything “Here” you handed him the pills and a glass of water

Steven swallowed them obediently, then caught your wrist and tugged you back down beside him “Your pussy is a literal cure for everything” he declared dramatically, pulling you against his chest “I feel like I haven’t even been beaten up! Real magic”

you groaned, burying your face in his neck, laughing embarrassed “That is so stupid, Steven. You’re going to be sore as hell tomorrow...”

“Worth it” he said cheerfully, nuzzling your hair and wrapping his arms around you despite the winces. his hand lazily stroked your back while the other kept the ice pack in place “Best night ever. Movie, fight, shotgun badass girlfriend, couch sex… 9 out of 10. We’ll get it to 11 next time”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling, pressing a careful kiss near his bruised jaw. even beat up and chaotic, he was still your ray of sunshine — and now something so much more but nothing certain yet. after few minutes you exhausted fell asleep on him

in the morning you were curled against Steven’s side on the couch, the throw blanket barely covering the two of you. his arm was slung possessively around your waist, his messy blond hair tickling your cheek and his steady breathing told you he was still asleep

the sound of footsteps on the stairs jolted you awake

your mom stepped into the living room, humming softly as she headed for the kitchen to start breakfast and froze midstep

there you were

her daughter

naked

tangled up with a boy on her couch

the only good thing is that she knows this boy really well

“Oh my God—” you sat up so fast you nearly fell off the cushions, yanking the blanket up to your chin. your face burned crimson “Mom! Don’t look! I— We— It’s not what you think!— I mean it is, but—”

Steven stirred beside you, blinking sleepily and confused

instead of panic, his face split into a bright, sunshine grin the second he saw your mom. he stretched lazily, not even bothering to fully cover himself with the blanket, his bruises and split lip on full display

“Morning, ma’am!” he said cheerfully, voice still raspy from sleep “Smells like you’re making breakfast? I’m starving”

your mom stood there for a beat, taking in the scene: her daughter flushed and dying of embarrassment, Steven looking perfectly content and happy as ever and the very obvious evidence of what had happened on her couch the night before

a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. she’d known Steven since he was a wild little blond boy running around with you at the grandmas houses. she’d always kinda suspected this day would come

“Well” she said, clearing her throat but sounding more amused than angry “I suppose it was only a matter of time with you two” she turned toward the kitchen “Pancakes sound good? And Steven, dear, you might want to put some pants on before my husband comes down here”

Steven laughed brightly and reached for his jeans on the floor “Yes ma’am. Pancakes sound amazing. Thank you!”

you groaned loudly, hiding your burning face in your hands “Mom, please. This is so embarrassing…”

your mom chuckled as she cracked eggs into a bowl “I’m happy for you two, honey. Really. Steven’s been part of this family for years”

she glanced over her shoulder at him as he tugged his shirt on and wincing at the bruises “Though I am very worried about why Stevie looks like he went ten rounds with a truck. What on earth happened to you, young man?”

Steven shrugged with a grin, slipping an arm around your shoulders even as you tried to shrink into the blanket “Just some guys from the music scene being idiots. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Your daughter took care of the rest though — she was incredible”

your mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t push too hard “We’ll talk about that later. Get dressed, both of you. Breakfast in ten”

when she finally focused on making breakfast you whispered to Steven “This is so embarrassing oh god…” that made him kiss your forehead and whisper

“It’s better than yelling anyway. And for the record this pink blush suits you” and that made you hide your face in his neck

a little while later Steven happily dug into the pancakes chatting with your mom like it was any other Sunday morning. you sat beside him, quiet and still mortified, pushing food around your plate while he kept stealing glances at you with loving eyes

after breakfast, Steven kissed your cheek and then your lips when your mom wasn’t looking and sighed “I gotta head out to band practice. But I’ll call you later, okay? Last night was… best night ever I mean it” he smiled, then winced because of the split lip

you walked him to the door. as soon as his beat-up car pulled away, you turned back toward the kitchen where your mom was waiting with a gentle but curious look

you couldn’t do it. not right now

“I’m… going to Grandma’s” you mumbled, already heading for the stairs to change “Love you, Mom. Thanks for breakfast”

your mom just smiled softly “Tell her I said hi. And be careful, honey”

you escaped out the door before she could ask any more questions about the very obvious shift in your friendship with Steven

at your grandma’s house, you found her in the garden. she took one look at your flushed face and knew

“Come sit, sweetheart” she said warmly, patting the bench beside her “I have a feeling somethings changed, am I right?”

“Somethings like that grandma” you buried your face in her shoulder, groaning again

you spent the day helping your grandma in the garden and keeping yourself busy even though the soreness of your last nights closeness with Steven was still here, reminding you of it with every step

that night, the phone rang just after dinner. you were helping your grandma with the dishes when she handed you the receiver with a knowing little smile

“It’s Steven, dear”

you took it, heart doing that familiar flip “Hello?”

“Baby!” Steven’s voice came through loud and bright but the words were slurry. you could hear music and laughter in the background — probably some after-party “Missed you all day! Like… a lot. You’re the best thing ever that happened to me you know that? I told the guys about my badass girlfriend with the shotgun and they didn’t believe me but—!”

“Steven” you cut in softly, frowning “Are you drunk?”

there was a pause, then a sheepish laugh “Maybe a little? Just celebrating. The band sounded killer today. But mostly celebrating you. Us. Last night was—”

you sighed, leaning against the wall “I’m glad you had fun with the band but… you got beaten up yesterday and now you’re out drinking? I was really worried about you. Can we just meet tomorrow instead? When you’re… sober?”

the line went quiet for a second. even tipsy, Steven caught the gentle disappointment in your voice “Yeah… yeah, okay. Tomorrow. I’ll come by your place”

“Get home safe tonight” you added, softer “Please”

“I will. Don’t worry about me” and he hang up

the next afternoon, Steven showed up on your porch right on time. his wild blond hair was washed and combed back as best as he could manage.he wore a clean button-up shirt tucked into his jeans and in his hands was a small, bouquet of daisies, a few sunflowers and pink roses wrapped in brown paper with a crooked ribbon. you could tell he’d spent his last bit of money on them

he stopped a couple steps away from the porch swing where you were sitting, shifting his weight like he was trying to contain an entire storm inside himself

“Hey…” his voice was quieter than usual. he cleared his throat and tried again “These are, uh… for you. They made me think of you — bright and pretty”

you took the flowers, smiling softly “They’re beautiful, Steven. Thank you”

he sat down beside you on the swing. for a long moment he just looked at you, his bright eyes unusually serious. you could see how hard he was trying to hold back his usual chaotic energy — fists clenched lightly on his thighs, jaw tight, like he was physically restraining himself from jumping up or talking a mile a minute

“I’ve been thinking about this since last night” he started, voice low and a little rough “When you asked me to come sober… it hit me. I don’t want to keep worrying you. Not anymore” he swallowed hard “You’ve been my best friend since we were twelve. Since I saw you at my grandma’s living room and asked if you wanted to be friends on the spot. And you said yes. You’ve always said yes — even when I was small and stupid and working too late, even when I brought home bruises, even when I… when we kissed by accident at that river and pretended it was nothing”

Steven let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again “Shit, I’m not good at this. I keep wanting to make jokes or tell you about the new drum fill I learned but… that’s not what this is about” he turned toward you fully, taking both your hands in his. his palms were warm and a little clammy from nerves

“I love you” he said, sincere and unsteady “Not just best friend love. I love the way you care about me when I forget to care about myself. I love how you look out for me. I love how you went full badass with that shotgun for me. I love how you blush when I say something stupid and how you feel and— fuck, I’m messing this up” he laughed nervously, cheeks flushing “What I mean is… you’re everything to me. You’ve taken care of me my whole life. Let me take care of you too”

he squeezed your hands tighter “Will you be my girlfriend? Like… officially. No more ‘just friends’ after what we did on that couch. I want to be the guy who deserves you. I’ll try harder — I swear. Less drinking, less stupid fights. Because you’re the best thing in my life and I… I just can’t lose you”

his voice cracked a little on the last words. the effort of holding back his usual sunshine chaos made him look so vulnerable, so young, despite the bruises on his face

you didn’t say anything right away. instead, you leaned in and kissed him — slow, tender and full of all the years between you. Steven melted into it instantly, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, the other staying laced with yours. when you pulled back, you wrapped your arms around him in a gentle hug, careful not to press on his injured ribs

“Yes” you whispered against his neck “I’ll be your girlfriend, Steven Adler”

he let out a soft, relieved sound — half laugh, half sigh — and hugged you back as tightly as his bruises would allow “Thank God” he murmured, pressing kisses to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth “I love you. I really, really love you”

you and Axl had been dating for some time now but lately he started pissing you off

the blow-up last night wasn’t even about the usual band drama or your modeling schedule. it started because he’d shown up at your place at 2 am, reeking of whiskey and cigarettes and snapped at you for

“Always running off to those fucking photoshoots instead of being here when I need you”

you’d fired back that maybe if he didn’t treat the studio like his second home and the groupies like his third, you wouldn’t feel like an afterthought. words got ugly. doors slammed. by morning you were both stone-cold silent, pretending the other didn’t exist

Guns N’ Roses had a magazine photoshoot scheduled for the afternoon at the big brick studio on Sunset—the same block where your agency’s building sat directly across the street. you knew the crew: the lighting guys, the stylists, the photographers you’d worked with on a dozen campaigns

they were harmless, loud, flirty in that big-brother way and you liked them. so when you finished your own morning test shots, you grabbed a couple of pizza boxes and a six pack of beers from the shop across the street. figured you’d drop the food off, say hi, and slip out before Axl even showed up

you weren’t ready to look at him yet

the studio was chaos—gnr guys sprawled on the couches, already wasted, sitting there with the lightning and set design crew. you handed the food to them, laughing at some dumb joke one of them said, when the head makeup artist, a tiny woman named Lena, spotted you from the doorway of the private dressing room

“Oh my God, you’re a lifesaver” she said, waving you over “I’ve got to do makeup for three more guys and only ten minutes. Can you finish Axl? He’s almost done, just needs the final touches. I’ll be right back”

you froze. he was already in there

of course he was...

Lena didn’t wait for an answer; she shoved the brush into your hand and bolted. the door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with him

Axl sat in the makeup chair. his green eyes were locked on the mirror, refusing to acknowledge you even existed

you slowly stepped in front of him, heart hammering and started dabbing at the smudged liner under his eye. neither of you spoke. the silence stretched until it felt like a rubber band about to snap

he finally broke it, voice low “Didn’t know the food delivery came with a side of you playing makeup artist”

you kept your tone flat “Lena asked. I’m just helping”

“Right” a bitter laugh “Helping. Like you were ‘just helping’ those guys out there a minute ago, laughing like they’re the funniest fucking people on the planet. Same way you do every time you’re over at your agency”

your brush paused “Are you serious right now? That’s what this is about?”

“It’s always about that” he muttered, jaw tight “You and your little crew. Every time I turn around you’re over there, all buddy-buddy with dudes who stare at you in lingerie for a living. And I’m supposed to just be cool with it?”

the anger from last night rushed back hot and fast “You’re one to talk, Axl. You were the one who bailed on me yesterday because ‘rehearsal ran late’ but somehow found time to party until dawn”

he turned his head just enough for his eyes to lock on yours in the mirror—green, furious “I didn’t disappear. I was working”

“Excuse me? Guess what — I’m working too! But at least I’m not a selfish prick who only thinks about himself”

you saw in his eyes that he had to hold back inside “Working. Right. You just love being the center of attention. Every guy in that room staring at your ass while you flirt like it’s your fucking job”

that was it

you slammed the brush down on the counter so hard it bounced “You’re such a hypocritical asshole, Axl! You disappear for days, come home smelling like whiskey and cheap perfume and I’m the one who has to deal with your shit. But God forbid I smile at someone who isn’t you!”

he shot up from the chair so fast it rolled backward and slammed into the wall. in two seconds he had you pinned against the makeup table, his body crowding yours, hands gripping the edge on either side of your hips. his face was inches from yours—eyes blazing, breath hot and ragged

“Smile at them again and I’ll break every fucking camera in this building” he snarled

you shoved at his chest but he didn’t budge “Then maybe stop acting like a jealous little bitch and trust me for once!”

Axl’s hand shot up, fisting roughly in your hair, yanking your head back. his mouth crashed into yours—angry. you bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. he growled into the kiss, the sound feral and shoved his tongue past your lips like he was trying to punish you with it

you fought back just as viciously—nails raking down his arms, leaving red trails over the tattoos, shoving your hips against his. he was already rock-hard, thick bulge grinding against your stomach through his jeans

“Fuck you” you gasped against his mouth

“Yeah?” he laughed, dark and mean “That’s exactly what you’re gonna get”

he spun you around violently, bending you over the makeup table so your chest pressed against the cold surface, scattering brushes and palettes everywhere. your skirt was shoved up to your waist in one brutal motion. he ripped your panties down your thighs without even bothering to take them off, the fabric tearing slightly

you heard his belt buckle clatter, zipper ripping down. no warning—just the blunt, angry head of his cock shoving against your entrance, already slick despite how pissed you were

he slammed into you in one savage thrust

you cried out, the sound half-moan, half-snarl, as he stretched you open so deep it burned. he didn’t give you a second to adjust—immediately pulling back and driving in again, harder, meaner, hips slapping against your ass with wet, filthy sounds

“Still wanna talk shit?” he growled, one hand fisting your hair again, yanking your head back so you had to look at both of you in the mirror “Look at you. Taking my cock like you fucking hate me”

“I do hate you right now” you spat, even as your walls clenched around him, greedy and desperate

“Good” he fucked you faster, deeper, the table creaking dangerously under the force. his free hand slapped your ass hard enough to sting “Hate me while you come on my dick”

every thrust was punishing, angry, perfect. he was so deep it felt like he was trying to split you in half. you pushed back against him just as furiously, meeting every brutal snap of his hips, cursing him under your breath between moans

“Fuck—harder, you asshole—”

he obliged, pounding into you so violently the mirror rattled. his hand snaked around to rub your clit in rough, angry circles. the orgasm hit you so sudden, shattering, your whole body locking up as you came with a broken scream you tried to muffle against his hand

Axl didn’t stop. he fucked you straight through it, chasing his own release with raw, animalistic grunts “That’s it—fuck—milk my cock like the angry little slut you are”

he buried himself to the hilt one last time and came hard, hips jerking, flooding you with hot, thick pulses while he bit down on your shoulder to keep from roaring

for a few seconds the only sound was both of you panting like you’d just ran a marathon

then he slowly pulled out, cum already starting to drip down your thighs. he grabbed a fistful of tissues, wiped you roughly, then himself. you straightened your skirt with shaking hands. he zipped up, ran a hand through his wrecked hair and shot you a glare that was still pure fire

Lena’s voice called from down the hall

you both stepped apart just in time, wearing matching expressions of cold indifference

sorry this is kinda choppy and boring but i tried my best to save it somehow </3

also tagging my bbg @crue-n-roses

the apartment was silent, except for the low whir of a fan and the occasional car passing outside

you’d fallen asleep curled into him — warm, soft, breathing steady. but Axl couldn’t sleep. not really. his arm was around you but his eyes were wide open, locked on the cracked ceiling like it held answers he couldn’t reach

he'd dozed off maybe once

and in that short sleep, he dreamed you were gone

no goodbye

no yelling

just vanished

he woke up gasping, slick with sweat, heart hammering against his ribs like he’d been running

now, he lay stiff and haunted, his mind spinning through versions of that nightmare again and again

you walking out. slamming a door. crying. saying you were done with being second-guessed. that you couldn’t trust him. that he never gave you peace

he shut his eyes tightly

he hated how real it had felt

he hated how possible it still felt

you stirred a little beside him, adjusting in your sleep, your arm landing softly across his ribs. that touch made his throat burn. he held onto it like a lifeline

eventually, when your breathing evened out again, he slowly sat up, pushing the blanket back, wiping his face with both hands. he walked barefoot to the kitchen, poured a glass of water with shaky fingers, then just stood there — hunched and shirtless in the fridge light, shadows under his eyes

he wanted to be better. but he still wasn’t sure he knew how

he heard the floor creak behind him

when he turned, you were there in the hallway — messy hair, tired eyes, oversized t-shirt slipping off your shoulder

“…Axl?”

he looked at you, startled, like he hadn’t expected to be caught in his spiral. he tried to play it off “Go back to sleep, baby. I’m just… getting a water”

you stepped closer “You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”

he sighed. looked away

you placed your hand on his face softly caressing it

“Wanna tell me?” you asked softly

his mouth tightened “It’s stupid”

“Try me”

he exhaled, shaky “You left me”

your fingers flinched just a little “In the dream?”

he nodded. still didn’t look at you

“What did I say?” you asked gently

Axl finally looked at you. his voice cracked

“You said you couldn’t trust me. That you were tired of waiting for me every time I ran away spiraling”

the words stuck in the air between you

you smoothed your thumbs across his chest now

“I never said that”

“But you could. And I wouldn’t blame you” he muttered, swallowing “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted to hold onto and I keep fucking it up”

“You're not fucking it up, Axl”

he scoffed, voice hoarse “You didn’t even want me showing up at your job—”

“I told you already tha I was scared. Of other people. Not of you”

he blinked fast “It felt like shame”

“It wasn’t” you whispered “It was protection. I was trying to keep what we have safe. You think I’d tattoo your name on my wrist if I didn’t love you like hell?”

he looked down at your wrist now, took it gently in his hand, thumb brushing over the black ink. then he pressed a kiss there

“I keep thinking you’ll wake up one day and realize you’re better off me” he admitted

you cupped his face, eyes glassy but firm “Then you better keep giving me reasons to stay”

he let out a breath that almost sounded like a sob. pulled you into him. held on tightly

“Okay... You know, I love you so much it fucking hurts”

“I know” you whispered back “Me too”

and after that you didn’t go back to bed. you stayed curled on the couch together until sunrise — his head in your lap, your fingers in his hair, the comforting words stayed until he evened out

Axl didn’t sleep

but finally he felt safe

in the morning the soft clink of coffee mugs and the low hum of the radio filled the kitchen. the sun hadn’t quite climbed all the way up yet, casting a pale yellow wash across the countertops. you stood at the sink, hair up, wearing clothes for work and your tired expression hidden behind some mascara

you were quiet

focused on your routine. packing your bag, checking the time, sipping your coffee between steps

behind you, Axl leaned against the doorframe — sleepy-eyed, shirtless, hair tangled from tossing all night on the couch. he rubbed the back of his neck and watched you for a long moment, like he didn’t know how to say what he needed to without making it worse

finally, his voice cracked through the quiet

“…Shit. I forgot you worked today”

you glanced over your shoulder “It’s okay”

“I should’ve let you sleep longer. I just— I was freaking out”

you smiled a little, barely there “I know Axl, that's okay”

“I didn’t mean to… wake you up and drag you into all that...”

still facing away from him “I’m glad you did”

he stepped closer now, barefoot, sheepish “You sure?”

you turned to look at him, one brow raised “You think I don’t want to know when you’re spiraling?”

his face crumpled slightly at that “You’re too good to me”

you chuckled under your breath, tugging your shirt sleeve down “That’s what people do when they love someone, Axl. They give a damn”

he stared at you like he wanted to kiss the guilt right out of your throat

instead, he hugged you, arms slipping gently around your back, pressing his cheek to your shoulder

“You’re so damn solid” he mumbled

you leaned into him for a second “Somebody’s gotta be. Rent’s due next week”

that got a soft laugh out of him “Ouch”

you reached up to fix the messy tangle of hair over his forehead “I don’t want you thinking I’m ashamed of you”

“I know”

“You sure?”

he paused “...Getting there”

you nodded slowly “Then we’re okay”

he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek “Lemme at least walk you out”

“I can manage—”

“No” he cut in gently, already slipping on his sweatpants “Let me do something right today”

you smiled, heart softening again “Okay”

and as you walked down the sidewalk side by side — his hand loosely in yours, your bag slung over his shoulder (he insisted) — it felt like a fragile little patch stitched back in after all the unraveling

later that day after exhausting day at work, where you were going on fumes after sleepless night you stepped out of the office building, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself

you were truly exhausted — your legs ached, your eyes were heavy and the last thing you expected was to see him leaning against some car, sunglasses on, boots crossed at the ankle like some arrogant rockstar prince who didn’t even need a reason to look good

Axl

you blinked “What are you doing here?”

he pushed off the car slowly, a shit-eating grin pulling at the corner of his mouth “Came to pick up my girl. You mad?”

“No” you said quickly but your chest tightened. you glanced nervously back at the glass doors of your workplace “You just… you didn’t tell me you were coming”

“I thought it’d be a nice surprise”

your heart dropped a little as you spotted them

Heather and Jennifer. AGAIN. just when Axl came for you to work. they were stepping out now, chatting and laughing, until—

“Wait. Is that—” Jennifer’s jaw dropped

“No fucking way” Heather gasped, immediately elbowing her friend “Holy shit, it’s him. I saw his band at the Cathouse last week!”

they bee-lined toward you, eyes wide like they’d just seen Elvis himself rise from the dead. Axl stood straighter, clearly amused

“Hey… uh, hi” Heather, nearly breathless “Are you—are you Axl Rose?”

he didn’t miss a beat “Yeah. You must be the charming coworkers she warned me about”

you cringed internally

but they just giggled

“Oh my god” Jennifer said, brushing her hair back with a flick “She never said she was dating you”

Heather practically sparkled “You're, like, so hot and I love your band”

Axl gave them a lazy half-smirk, then reached out and slung an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side like he’d just claimed a trophy

“Yeah, I hear that a lot. Lucky her, huh?”

your jaw nearly dropped

Jennifer laughed like it was the best thing she’d heard all week “Oh, she’s so lucky”

you managed a polite smile, your entire world flipped on its head. this wasn’t what you expected at all. you expected judgment, sneers, whispered insults about his hair or his voice or his loud mouth

but no

they looked like they were one breath away from asking for his autograph

“Anyway” Axl drawled, glancing at you with that knowing glint in his eye “We’ve got dinner reservations. And she hates being late”

you nodded dumbly, letting him steer you down the street as Heather and Jennifer stood frozen, mouths hanging open like they’d just watched a UFO take off

once you were far enough away, Axl grinned sideways at you

“You’re blushing” he teased

“You’re unbearable!” you mumbled, still stunned

“But you love it” he shot back smugly “You really thought they were gonna drag me?”

“I swear they were! They called you a washed-up burnout like two weeks ago!”

he grinned even wider “Yeah and now they’re ready to tattoo my name on their asses”

you shoved him lightly but he just laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head

“Next time” he murmured, voice warm in your ear “don’t assume I won’t win ‘em over. I’m kind of a menace like that”

you rolled your eyes, heart fluttering despite everything

the set is dim, hazy with cigarette smoke and the crimson glow of the lights they rigged for that underground vibe. you’re on your knees in the middle of it all, wrists locked in cold metal cuffs behind your back, soft ropes tight around your thighs and chest—clutching your breasts, framing them like an offering. the ball gag sits snug in your mouth, muffling every shaky breath. you’re supposed to look broken, submissive, completely owned

and fuck, you feel it

Axl circles you slow, predatory, in those black leather pants and the open leather vest. that smirk—sharp, dangerous—cuts right through you as he grabs your chin, forces your gaze up. the camera’s rolling. he leans in close, breath hot against your face, his thumb smears your lipstick, rough and deliberate and you feel the heat pool low in your belly

“Cut!” the director shouts. crew starts shuffling, resetting lights. you tug gently at the cuffs, expecting release. but Axl’s fingers tighten on your jaw instead

“Be patient baby, just a second” as he waits until the set clears—people know better than to stick around when he’s got that look. the door clicks shut. silence, except for your breathing and the low hum of the lights

he drops to a crouch behind you, chest pressed to your bound arms, mouth at your ear “Not lettin’ you out yet, sweetheart” he rasps, voice low “You look way too fuckin’ pretty like this. All tied up for me”

you whimper around the gag, arching instinctively. his low chuckle vibrates through you. one hand slides down your spine, tracing every knot of rope, until he’s gripping your hips and yanking you back against him. he’s rock-hard already, straining against the leather and the feel of it makes you clench around nothing

“Been hard since the first rehearsal” he mutters, lips brushing the shell of your ear “Watchin’ you kneel there, takin’ it so good for the camera. But now it’s just us”

his hand slips around front, under the flimsy scrap of fabric they called a costume. fingers drag slow through your folds—soaked—and he groans like it physically hurts him

“Jesus Christ. You’re dripping down your thighs, baby. This what does it for you?”

you nod desperately, muffled pleas spilling out. he circles your clit once, twice—teasing—then pushes two fingers inside you without warning. you cry out into the gag as he curls them, stroking that spot that makes your knees buckle against the ropes. his thumb keeps working your clit in tight, relentless circles while his fingers fuck you slow and deep

“Look at you” he growls “Can’t even talk back. Just takin’ whatever I give you” he adds a third finger, stretching you and your whole body jerks. the ropes bite into your skin in the best way, holding you exactly where he wants you

he pulls his hand away suddenly and you whine at the loss. you hear him suck his fingers clean behind you—loud, obscene—and then he’s shoving the gag down just enough to free your mouth

“Tell me” he demands, voice rough “Tell me you want it”

“Please, Axl” you gasp immediately, voice hoarse “Please fuck me. I need you inside, please...”

he laughs, dark and filthy “That’s my girl”

he doesn’t bother stripping—just shoves his pants low enough to free himself. you feel him hot and thick against your ass, dragging the head through your wetness, coating himself. he teases your entrance, pushing in just an inch, then pulling back. again. and again. until you’re shaking, begging incoherently

then he grips the ropes around your chest like reins and slams into you in one brutal thrust

the stretch burns perfectly. you scream his name, back arching as much as the bonds allow. he doesn’t pause—pulls out almost all the way and drives back in. every snap of his hips jolts you forward, cuffs rattling, ropes creaking. the angle is deep, relentless, hitting spots that make stars burst behind your eyes

“Fuck—tightest little pussy” he grits out “All bound up and still takin’ me like you were made for it”

one hand leaves the ropes to fist in your hair, yanking your head back so he can mouth at your neck—biting, sucking marks into your skin. the other slides down to rub rough circles over your clit again

you’re sobbing with pleasure now, completely overwhelmed

he suddenly pulls out and you cry out at the emptiness. before you can protest, he’s flipping you onto your back—careful of the cuffs—and spreading your tied thighs wide. the ropes keep you open, exposed, and he dives in like a man starved

his mouth is hot and filthy on you—tongue lapping broad stripes, then flicking fast over your clit. two fingers plunge back inside, curling hard while he sucks you like he’s trying to wreck you. you’re shaking but the ropes hold you down, forcing you to take every second of it

“Come on my tongue, baby” he growls against you “Wanna taste you”

you shatter—orgasm ripping through you so hard your vision whites out. he doesn’t stop, licking you through it until you’re trembling, oversensitive, gasping and begging

only then does he rise up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes feral. he lines himself up and thrusts back inside you in one smooth stroke, groaning at how you flutter around him post-climax

“Fuck—gonna fill you up baby” he pants, pace turning brutal again

a few more deep, grinding thrusts and he’s coming—hot and pulsing, buried to the hilt, he rides it out with a low, broken moan and after, he stays inside you a long moment, breathing hard

then he’s gentle—kissing your damp forehead, reaching for the key. cuffs click open. gag fully removed. ropes untied slow and careful, his thumbs rubbing over every faint red line

he pulls you into his lap right there on the grimy set floor, wrapping his vest around your shaking body. soft kisses trail over your wrists, your throat

“You're with me, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice soft now

“Yes... but it was... intense” you nod, burrowing into his chest. he smirks against your hair

“You did so good baby. You took it so well, didn't protest even once. Such a good girl” he murmured caressing your hair

Los Angeles, summer 1982

Sunset Strip —neon signs bleeding pink and electric blue, the smell of exhaust, cheap cologne and spilled beer hanging thick in the air. hair metal was starting to glitter but the real fire was underground: thrash, fast and ugly, born in garages and back alleys. your band was scrappy, hungry and finally getting booked at places like the Whisky and the Troubadour. you handled everything—booking, promo, keeping the boys from killing each other or ODing before the set. you were twenty-four, leather jacket permanently glued to your shoulders, and you didn’t take shit from anyone

and there was Dave Mustaine

he rolled into every venue like he was already headlining Madison Square Garden. long red hair tangled and sweaty, cigarette always burning, that permanent smirk. his band was louder, faster, meaner—at least according to the crowd that night at the Troubadour when they blew your set out of the water. you stood side-stage, arms crossed, watching him whip his head during solos, fingers a blur on the neck of his guitar. the crowd lost their minds. you hated how good he was. hated more how your pulse kicked up watching him

afterward, in the cramped backstage hallway reeking of sweat and stale piss, he caught you starin.

“Enjoyed the show, sweetheart?” he drawled, wiping his face with the hem of his ripped shirt. sweat glistened on his chest

you stepped closer, chin up “I’ve seen better. Your timing’s off in the bridge of that last one. Really sloppy”

his eyes narrowed “Sloppy? That’s rich coming from the band that still plays like they’re auditioning for high school talent show”

“Fuck you, Mustaine”

“Anytime sweetie but you gotta wait in line cause I have other girls needy too ” he grinned

that was the beginning

for months it was open season

you “forgot” to tell their roadie about a time change—his soundcheck ran thirty minutes late, pissing off the club owner. he told everyone in earshot that you couldn’t hold a note sober (which, to be fair, was sometimes true). you spiked his drink with extra-hot sauce at a party in the Cathouse. he “accidentally” unplugged your band’s power strip mid-set the next week. the crowd thought it was part of the show. you wanted to strangle him

but every time your eyes met across a room—whether it was the Rainbow Bar & Grill or some after-hours party—the air crackled. he’d hold your gaze too long. you’d flip him off but your stomach flipped too

one night in San Francisco, after a brutal co-headline bill at the Stone, everything snapped

both bands were wrecked. adrenaline still pumping, amps ringing in everyone’s ears. the green room was chaos—empty bottles rolling, girls giggling in corners, cigarette smoke so thick you could chew it. Dave was leaning against the wall, leather pants low on his hips, red hair plastered to his forehead, laughing at something his bassist said. you walked past, intending to ignore him

he caught your wrist

not hard — just enough to stop you

you spun with a frown “Let go”

“You’ve been staring at me all night” he said low, voice rough from screaming lyrics for ninety minutes straight

“Bullshit”

“You think I don’t notice?” he stepped closer, crowding you against the doorframe. the hallway light flickered overhead “Every time I look up from my rig, there you are. Glaring. Like you wanna fight me. Or fuck me. Which is it?”

your breath hitched.“You’re delusional”

“Am I?” his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist “Cause right now you’re not even pulling away”

you should’ve. instead your other hand fisted in his damp shirt and yanked him forward

the kiss was violent

teeth and fury and months of pent-up hate. he groaned into your mouth, hands slamming to the wall on either side of your head, caging you. you bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. he hissed and shoved his thigh between yours, pressing up until you gasped

“Fuck” he muttered against your jaw, dragging open-mouthed kisses down your neck “Been wanting to do this since the first time you told me my riffs sucked”

“They still do” you breathed, even as your nails raked down his back hard enough to leave marks

“We will see about that” he laughed—dark, dangerous—and hauled you into an empty storage room across the hall. door locked

he shoved your jacket off your shoulders, yanked your tank top up and over your head while you tore at his belt. buckle clattered. jeans shoved down just enough. your leather pants were the worst part since they got stuck but as soon as you were out of them your panties were shoved to the side. his fingers found you first—rough, calloused, knowing exactly how to curl and press until your knees buckled

“Still hate me?” he growled in your ear, teeth grazing your lobe

“Yes” you hissed, even as you rocked against his hand

“Good”

he lifted you onto a stack of road cases, spread your thighs wide and sank in with one brutal thrust. you both cursed at the same time—loud, raw. he didn’t give you time to adjust, just set a punishing rhythm that matched the tempo of the songs you’d both been playing all night: fast, aggressive with no mercy

your legs locked around his waist. nails dug into his shoulders. his mouth was everywhere—on your throat, your collarbone, sucking bruises into skin the crew would see tomorrow and whisper about. you pulled his hair hard, forcing his head back so you could bite along his jaw

“Come on, you can go hrder” you demanded

he obliged without a word. the cases creaked under you. bottles rattled somewhere in the dark. his hand slid between you, thumb circling exactly where you needed it, until you were shaking and crying “Ahh— Dave…fuck—!”

when you came it was loud—head thrown back, his name torn from your throat. he followed seconds later, hips stuttering, burying his face in your neck with a guttural groan that vibrated through your bones

for a long minute, just panting of you both

he didn’t pull out right away. just held you there, forehead pressed into your neck

“Truce?” he rasped finally

you laughed—breathless, wrecked “Fuck no. This changes nothing”

he grinned finally pulling away from yu “Good. I like winning”

since that quickie it started regularly between you two

there was next week in San Diego: quick and dirty in the back of his van after everyone else passed out

then Phoenix: against the wall of a motel hallway at 4 am, both of you still half-drunk and buzzing from the show

rhen Portland: slower this time, in a real bed for once—him taking his time, learning every sound you made, every spot that made you arch and beg. you hated how gentle he could be when he wanted. hated more how much you craved it

the rivalry never really died. tou still fought over set times, still told anyone who’d listen that the other’s band was shitty and overrated. but now there was heat behind every insult. now every glare ended with one of you dragging the other into the nearest dark corner

one night in Seattle, rain hammering the venue roof, he pulled you onto the empty stage after load-out. just the two of you under the ghost lights

he lit a cigarette, offered you a drag. you took it

“You know” he said quietly, smoke curling between you “I still think your band’s got potential. If you ever fire that shitty drummer”

you exhaled, handed it back “And I still think you play too many goddamn leads. Ever heard of restraint?”

he laughed “Nah. Restraint’s for people who don’t want it bad enough”

you looked at him then. messy red hair, tired eyes, that cocky mouth softened just a little

“You know… Maybe I don’t hate you anymore” you admitted

he stepped closer, brushed hair from your face “And maybe I never really hated you”

the kiss that followed wasn’t angry. it was slow. deep. like the end of a long, bruising song finally resolving

rain didn’t fall often in LA but it did tonight—thin, misty drizzle that curled into Slash’s curls as he walked. his leather jacket clung cold to his shoulders but he barely noticed. his heart felt heavier

he’d just found out she was gone said she needed “someone more stable” “someone who wasn’t married to his guitar nor his bandmates”

he laughed at first then it hit then he left before she could see his face crack

the neon of the small dive bar he always slipped into—quiet, tucked between a tattoo shop and a liquor store—glowed like a refuge. he pushed inside, welcomed by warmth, cigarette haze and the low hum of synth-pop mixing with a blues guitar track on the jukebox

Slash slid into his usual seat at the bar—third stool from the end. whiskey. no ice

he stared at the amber liquid, willing it to burn the ache out of him

and then he noticed you

you weren’t a groupie, not dressed like that—simple sweater, jeans, hair slightly damp with rain. no glitter, no ripped fishnets, no rock shirt tied under your chest. just… normal

but God, you looked as wrecked as he felt

you sat two stools away, elbow on the counter, fingers pressed to your forehead like you were trying to hold yourself together. a half-finished drink sat untouched beside your hand

Slash wasn’t bold by nature—unless he was on stage, guitar slung low, mic stands flying but heartbreak makes people do strange things. and something about the way you looked—soft, tired, not trying to impress anyone—pulled him in like gravity

he gently slid one stool closer “Rough night?”

“Is it that obvious?” your eyes lifted—slow, hesitant—and the moment your gaze met his, something loosened inside his chest. you looked kind. sad but kind

“Only because I’m sitting here looking the same way”

a tiny smile tugged at your lips, just enough to make his stomach flip

“Let me guess… legendary Slash has a girl problems?”

he softly chuckled at the "legendary" word “Something like that. You?”

your smile faded “Yeah”

silence settled between you but it wasn’t awkward. it was shared—strangely comforting. like two strangers sitting in the same small boat, drifting on the same lonely tide

Slash raised a hand to the bartender “Put her next drink on me”

you blinked, almost startled “You don’t have to—”

“I know. But maybe we could both use something warm tonight”

your cheeks warmed and Slash felt a quiet swell of pride at the sight

he twisted slightly on his stool to face you more fully

“I’m, uh… Slash”

“I know”

he flushed, rubbing the back of his neck “Right. Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You just… surprised me, talking to me. Thought you’d be surrounded by people”

he huffed a small laugh “Some nights, being alone with a drink sounds better than a room full of people screaming your name”

your eyes softened “I can imagine”

another sip. another warm silence

then you said, almost in a whisper “Did she really hurt you?”

Slash looked down at his glass, rolling it between his fingers “Yeah. I didn’t think I cared as much as I did… until she walked away”

your voice was gentle “Then she’s an idiot”

he blinked then smiled—an actual, real smile

“What about you? Who hurt you tonight?”

you drew a breath “Someone I thought was my future. Turns out I was just the ‘in-between’ for him”

Slash’s jaw tightened, protective without even knowing why “Then he’s an idiot too”

you laughed—quiet, soft, honest

and Slash felt it

that little spark

the kind that sneaks up on you, the kind that hits you in the ribs and makes your heartbeat feel a little too steady, a little too warm

he reached out—slowly, carefully—and tapped your glass with his “To idiots”

“To idiots”

you both drank

the bar grew louder but the world around you softened. Slash shifted his stool until your shoulders almost touched. he smelled like leather, smoke and a sweetness you didn’t expect. his curls brushed your cheek when he leaned closer to hear you speak

at one point, you shivered he instantly shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders, eyes gentle

“Slash, I can’t—” “Let me take care of you. Just for tonight. I could use the company”

you looked at him he didn’t seem like the rock god plastered on posters not the wild man smashing bottles backstage just a young guy with tired eyes and a big heart, hoping someone might hold the pieces together with him

your hand brushed his—accidental at first then again, intentional

he swallowed hard, eyes dropping to your intertwined fingers like he wasn’t sure how it happened

“Can I…?” his thumb ghosted over your knuckles a question without words

you nodded and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours

he walked you out into the cool, drizzly night, his jacket still around your shoulders he lifted his hand over your head as a shield from the rain, guiding you gently

“You don’t deserve to be alone tonight”

“Neither do you”

that made him look at you again—really look—eyes softening, lips parting slightly like he was afraid to smile too wide

then he blurted, cheeks warm in the neon glow “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

you stepped closer, fingers sliding into his curls “Yeah. It would”

his lips met yours softly—so soft it almost hurt

you pulled him closer, your hands cupping his jaw he breathed against your mouth, shakier than you expected

when you finally pulled back, you caught the faintest blush on his cheeks

“You look handsome when u blush”

he chuckled at that “So do you” he brushed the hair out of your face “Would you… wanna come back to mine? Not for anything wild. Just… warmth. Music or sum shit”

he hesitated “I don’t want to be lonely tonight. Not if you’re feeling the same”

you slid your hand into his “I’d like that”

his shoulders relaxed and with your hand in his

your apartment wasn’t far — five, maybe six blocks — but the drizzle had turned into a fine mist that made everything feel softer, quieter. Slash walked beside you with his hand hovering near your lower back, not touching unless you swayed a little. his jacket was still on your shoulders, swallowing you whole

you fumbled with your keys at the door, muttering “Why are keys so complicated?” Slash chuckled behind you, curls dripping rainwater “You’re adorable when you’re tipsy”

the door finally popped open you stumbled in Slash caught the doorframe with one hand and steadied your hip with the other, guiding you inside

warm. dim. cozy little living room a stack of VHS tapes near an old TV a blanket half-folded on the couch

you kicked your shoes off—messily—and then flopped onto the couch with a sigh that could’ve meant exhaustion, heartbreak or relief

Slash stood in the doorway, watching you with this soft, almost surprised expression

like he didn’t expect you to be so normal? soft. messy. not someone screaming backstage or trying to get into his pants. just a girl who’d had a rough night, living in a quiet apartment with romcoms and mismatched throw pillows

“You good?” he asked takin his boots off

“Mhm. Just… dizzy”

he smirked “Lightweight”

you gasped “I am NOT”

“You had two drinks”

“They were strong!”

he laughed so softly you barely caught it

Slash wasn’t drunk — he’d had enough over the years to build a tolerance that could shame a pirate. his cheeks were slightly warm, his voice low and smooth but he was steady

you… not so much

he stepped in further, flicking the lamp switch near the couch. a soft amber glow filled the room

“You want some water?” he asked sitting on the couch

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm… I want you” you purred

Slash looked almost confused

your eyes were on him—wide, vulnerable, definitely tipsy but filled with something that made his chest tighten

you pushed yourself up on your knees, wobbly but determined and crawled toward him on the couch he lifted his hands instinctively, ready to catch you if you toppled

you reached him first, one hand sliding into his curls, tugging gently “You’re pretty”

Slash’s breath hitched “You… you’re drunk, sweetheart”

you leaned up and kissed him soft warm messy

he kissed back — because how could he not? his hands gripped your waist, steadying you, pulling you closer just a little, kissing you with gentle restraint

but when you deepened it—trying to push him down onto the couch, trying to climb into his lap—your legs tangled with the blanket and you stumbled backward

“Oh—shit—!”

Slash caught you just before you hit the armrest

you froze, mortified “Oh my god. Fuuuck, everything’s going wrong today. I’m so stupid—”

“Hey—hey. Don’t say that we can just continue—”

“I can’t even be sexy right. I can’t even—ugh—”

your voice cracked, embarrassment hitting harder than the fall ever could

Slash gently cupped your cheeks, tilting your face up so you had to look at him “You’re not stupid. You’re drunk. And you’re hurting. That’s all”

you blinked, lip trembling

“And you don’t have to impress me, you're making up with your messy sweetness”

you let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping as the tension left your body

he stroked your cheek with his thumb

“C’mere”

he pulled you onto the couch, seating you gently beside him. you leaned into his shoulder with a soft huff because it felt safe and he let you

a quiet beat

then he looked around the room “So… what’s this?” he pointed at the VHS tape sticking halfway out of the VCR

you sniffed “…Pretty in Pink”

“Jesus”

“What?”

“The dude’s named Duckie. I can’t take that seriously”

you elbowed him weakly “It’s sweet!”

he raised an eyebrow “Sweet? The whole movie’s one guy being friendzoned while wearing clothes that look like they lost a fight with a thrift store”

“Shut up, Slash”

“I’m just saying” he shrugged

you huffed dramatically, crossing your arms. he grinned and nudged you with his shoulder until you uncrossed them

he hit play

the tape crackled, the screen tinted slightly green at the edges. Slash slouched down, one arm resting behind the couch. after a minute or so, he let his arm drift closer, just enough that you could lean into him if you wanted

you did slowly not to make it weird and he curled his arm around you, pulling you into his side

you could feel his heart, steady beneath leather

he could feel your breath even out against him “You know… he should’ve ended up with Duckie”

“Thank you!”

“But that kid’s fashion sense is unforgivable”

“Slash—”

“Un. Forgivable.”

you giggled, forehead bumping his shoulder. Slash watched you for a second too long, eyes warm, something protective flickering there

he brushed a loose piece of hair behind your ear slow tentative

“We don’t have to do anything tonight. I just… wanna be here with you. If that’s okay”

your fingers curled into his shirt “Yeah. That’s okay”

you rested your head on his chest. he let out a breath like he’d been carrying the weight of the world

and the two of you stayed on a half-sagging couch, in the glow of a crappy 80s romcom, wrapped in a night full of rain, heartbreak, and slow-forming something

a night that shouldn’t have felt good but at the end it did because he was there and you were there

and for once in days nothing hurt you anymore

the city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windows of Slash's penthouse suite, high above the LA skyline. it was one of those rare nights off tour—gnr had just wrapped a leg in europe and he'd flown back to US craving something familiar. you. the model he met years ago at some afterparty, back when you were just breaking into the scene with your killer legs and that smirk that could launch a thousand magazine covers

what started as flirty banter turned into hookups, then "friends with benefits" though neither of you ever slapped a label on it. it was easy: no strings, just stolen nights of sweat-slicked skin, tangled sheets and that post-sex haze where you'd share cigarettes and talk shit about the industry

tonight was no different—at first. you'd shown up in a slinky black dress that hugged every curve, fresh off a shoot for some high-fashion brand. Slash answered the door in his usual low-key vibe: faded jeans slung low on his hips, no shirt, those iconic black curls wild. those tattooed arms pulled you in for a kiss that tasted like whiskey and promise

"Missed this" he murmured against your lips, his hands already roaming, sliding up your thighs to hitch your dress higher. you laughed, nipping at his neck, inhaling that familiar scent of leather and smoke

"Missed me or missed fucking me?" you teased, your fingers tangling in his hair as he backed you toward the bedroom

"Both, baby. Always both"

the sex was electric as usual. he had you pinned against the wall first, his mouth on your neck, fingers digging into your hips while you wrapped your legs around him. you rode him on the bed after, his hands guiding your rhythm, that gravelly voice groaning your name like a prayer. you came undone together

afterward, you lay there in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady out. he lit a cigarette, passing it to you after a drag, his free hand tracing lazy circles on your bare back. the rain pattered against the glass and for once the silence felt heavier. loaded

you propped yourself up on an elbow, studying him "What's on your mind, pretty boy? You seem... off"

he chuckled, that low rumble that always made your stomach flip "Pretty boy, huh? Keep calling me that and I'll show you I can still go another round" but his eyes softened and he stubbed out the cigarette, turning to face you fully. his hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing your lips "Nah, seriously. Been thinking a lot lately. About us"

"Us?" you raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool but your heart skipped. you'd always kept it light—hookups, sure, but feelings? that was dangerous territory in your world of fashion shows and his endless tours

"Yeah. This... thing we've got. Started as fun, right? Friends who fuck like rabbits" he smirked but it faded quick "But it's more than that for me now. Has been for a while"

you sat up a little, pulling the sheet around you, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with being naked "Slash..."

he sat up too, leaning against the headboard, his gaze intense under those curls "Look, I'm not good at this shit. Never have been. Relationships? I fuck 'em up. But you... you're different. You get me. The real me, not the rockstar bullshit. We laugh, we talk and yeah, the sex is insane but it's you I crave when I'm on the road. Not just your body—though, fuck, that's a bonus" he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, his voice dropping to that husky whisper "I love you, baby. Like, for real. Not just hooking up. I want more. Dates, mornings after, all that sappy crap"

your breath caught. you'd felt it too—the pull beyond the physical. the way his calls made you smile, how you'd cancel shoots just to see him. but hearing it from him, this legendary guitarist baring his soul? it hit hard

"I... I love you too" you whispered, leaning in to kiss him soft and slow. no rush, no heat—just truth

he pulled you into his lap, holding you close, his lips curving into a genuine smile against yours "Good. 'Cause you're it for me and I don't want anybody else"

the diner was one of those classic 50s-style joints on the outskirts of LA, all chrome edges and checkered floors, with a flickering "Open 24/7" sign that buzzed faintly in the night

it was pushing midnight, the kind of hour where the only souls around were truckers nursing coffee and insomniacs chasing greasy comfort food. you'd whined to Axl about wanting something simple—no paparazzi, no groupies, just the two of you like a normal couple for once. he grinned that dangerous grin, red hair widl and said "Alright, baby. Normal it is" but the glint in his green eyes told you normal was never in his vocabulary

you slid into the booth first, your short denim skirt riding up your thighs as you settled on the cool vinyl. Axl followed on the opposite side, his legs stretching out under the table, boots brushing yours. he looked fucking edible—tight black leather pants, a half-unbuttoned shirt showing off that pale chest and those lips curved into a smirk that promised trouble

the waitress, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a name tag reading "Doris" took your orders without much fanfare. cheeseburger deluxe for him, extra fries to share and a chocolate milkshake for you—two straws, because Axl insisted on "sharing" like it was the most innocent thing in the world

as soon as Doris shuffled away, Axl leaned back, arms spread along the top of the booth, eyeing you like prey "You look good enough that I could eat you for dinner, y'know that?" his voice was low, that raspy drawl that always made your core clench "That little skirt... bet you're not even wearing much underneath"

you shifted, heat flooding your cheeks—and lower "Axl, behave. This is supposed to be normal"

he chuckled darkly, foot nudging your calf under the table "Normal? With you sitting there looking like my personal wet dream? Nah"

his boot trailed higher, up your shin, then your knee, forcing your legs apart just a fraction. you glanced around—the diner was dead quiet except for the low hum of Elvis on the jukebox and the occasional clink of dishes from the kitchen. still, the thrill of being caught made your pulse race

"Axl..." you warned again but it came out breathy, needy

his hand dropped casually to his lap, like he was just adjusting himself. then it disappeared under the tablecloth. fingers grazed your bare knee, warm and calloused from years of gripping that mic stand like it owed him money

"Spread your legs for me, baby" he whispered, eyes locked on yours, intense and commanding "Let me feel how wet you are already"

you swallowed hard, thighs parting on instinct. God, you were helpless when he got like this—dominant, possessive

his fingers inched up your inner thigh, slow and teasing, nails scraping lightly. you bit your lip as he reached the hem of your skirt, pushing it higher until the cool air hit your damp panties. he traced the lace edge with one finger, humming approvingly

"Fuck, you're soaked through" he growled softly "This what a 'normal' date does to you? Makes that pretty pussy drip for me?"

you nodded, gripping the menu like a lifeline as he slipped under the fabric. one thick finger dragged through your folds, parting them, coating himself in your slick. you stifled a gasp, hips twitching forward

"Shh" he warned, that wicked smile widening "Gotta stay quiet. Wouldn't want Doris hearing what a needy little slut you are"

he circled your clit slowly, lazily, building the pressure while watching your face crumple. your breath came in shallow pants as he added a second finger to the tease, dipping just inside your entrance before pulling back

"Please..." you whispered, voice trembling

"Please what?" he leaned forward, pretending to look at the dessert menu but his fingers never stopped "Tell me what you want, baby. Use that filthy mouth"

"Fingers... inside me" you begged quietly, thighs quivering

"Good girl" without warning, he plunged two fingers deep, curling them up to hit that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. you slapped a hand over your mouth, muffling the moan as he started pumping—slow at first, then faster, the wet sounds obscene under the table

Doris chose that exact moment to return with your food, setting down plates with a cheerful "Here ya go, folks. Enjoy!"

you forced a smile, voice cracking as you said "Th-thank you" Axl didn't miss a beat—his fingers thrust deeper, thumb grinding against your clit in tight circles. he even had the audacity to nod politely at Doris

as she walked away, he sped up, free hand reaching across the table to steal a fry like nothing was happening "Eat your shake, baby" he ordered, eyes dark with lust "Act natural while I finger-fuck this tight cunt"

you grabbed the straw with shaky hands, sipping as he added a third finger, stretching you deliciously. the fullness made your walls flutter, pleasure coiling tight in your belly. his palm pressed against your clit with every thrust, slick noises barely masked by the music

"You're clenching so hard" he rasped, voice dropping lower "Love knowing anyone could walk by and see you falling apart. My good little whore, coming on my fingers in public"

the dirty words pushed you closer, your free hand digging into the booth seat. he curled his fingers harder, hitting that spot relentlessly, thumb flicking your clit until you were nearly on the edge

"Come for me" he commanded, leaning in to steal a sip from your shake—tongue darting out suggestively "Soak my hand right here"

you shattered

orgasm ripped through you, body convulsing as you bit down on your straw to silence the cry. waves of ecstasy pulsed around his fingers, your pussy gushing over his palm. he didn't stop, riding it out until you were whimpering, oversensitive and boneless

finally, he withdrew slowly, bringing his drenched fingers up above the table. right there in the open, he sucked them clean—one by one—tongue swirling, eyes burning into yours

"Taste yourself on me later" he said with a smirk, licking his lips "Sweetest fucking thing"

you were still dazed, embarassed with the whole thing, thighs slick, wet and trembling, when he tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the table—way more than needed—and stood "Let's go baby. Before someone sees how drenched this booth is now"