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Slash walked in to find Izzy sprawled on the sofa, burning through half a pack of parliaments. The brunette didn't turn to acknowledge him (not that he had expected him to), just stared coolly at the off-white walls. The sounds of Axl singing in the shower bounced around the room. The guitarist sighed and plopped himself next to Izzy, knowing damn well they'd have to talk sooner or later.
He took the logical step to start said important conversation and distracted himself with the paper— sue him, he didn't want to talk damn it—forcing himself to appear interested.
"Have you decided?" He said when the silence proved too much for even him. And of course, only Izzy could drag him kicking and screaming into a conversation without uttering a word.
"Yes." Izzy said softly, putting out his cigarette in the almost overflowing ash tray.
Slash wanted to probe more—obviously, it was in his nature—but that was probably a bad idea. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the answer.
The night air was cool against his heated skin, the breeze from the open windows made the curtains writhe in some unknown dance.
They'd have to close that sooner or later, he hated leaving them open. Even if Axl shot him nervous little looks whenever he closed it, something to do with Jeffrey always climbing through his window back then to comfort him when he needed it back then. Sometimes Slash left it open, if was just a little thing he could give up.
When Izzy touched him, cool, slender fingers curling around the back of his neck, Slash promptly stopped breathing, words in the paper blurred before him.
Izzy thumbed at the line of his jaw, still not looking at him, humming softly to himself, probably having an entire conversation in his head.
Slash hated that it made his heart race and stomach twist. Rival or not, Izzy was undeniably attractive. Sue him (it really wouldn't do much damage, he's a millionaire after all), he was just a man.
"I think, maybe, we could work something out." Izzy's words were snapped up by the silence, and Slash had a hard time convincing himself Izzy had actually said anything at all.
"Like what?" He asked, just for show, because he already knew, had considered it many times before.
What if they did work it out...?
Izzy just looked at him. And yeah, Slash should've seen that one coming.
He was calm, calmer than Slash by far; he could probably feel Slash's frantic pulse beneath his fingers. "Call it a crash course in Axl if you will."
The guitarist dragged in a laboured breath, forced himself not to turn his face and press his lips against Izzy's thumb. "And after?" He squirmed in his seat, pressing his legs together when Izzy squeezed lightly.
"After?" Izzy smirked wickedly, like he knew just what was going on in Slash's fucked up mind. "After, he's yours." That was probably the closest he would get to giving a heads up he was leaving.
Slash blinked. Opened his mouth, closed it, then blinked again. They both knew that sentence was utter bullshit, but he got the idea, understood what Izzy was giving him by doing this
"OK." He croaked, biting his lip. "Yeah, I can do that." He added, because 'Ok' just wasn't enough for a situation like this.
Izzy nodded and released him, and suddenly the other sounds in the room (because Izzy's quiet presence had more or less drowned everything out): the sound of the shower, the sounds of Axl humming—completely oblivious to what had transacted.
Slash tried to force himself to relax, counted backwards from fifty or some shit, anything to distract him.
The blow-dryer clicked on and Izzy huffed a little laugh, of course the fucker was preening, it had been almost an hour now. Well yes, he had told Axl he and Slash needed to talk—but nowhere in his sentence did he mention Axl should take an hour long bath doing god knows what.
"Hey, losers." The redhead sauntered out after a while, wrapped in a ridiculously fluffy white robe, grinning like he had won the lottery. "Thank God. I was worried about leaving you two alone, at least you haven't killed each other yet."
Izzy noted the exact moment Axl registered something had happened. He paused, glancing at them both, brow raised in a silent question.
What the fuck did you two do?
"Not much. We've put our differences aside." Izzy purred, rising from the couch and striding over to where Axl stood. "Found some common ground, everything you wanted us to." And the brunette was sounding so coy and secretive that the redhead had to fight a smile—he would never change, would he?
Axl's insides did a weird little jig, but he carefully schooled his expression, didn't make a sound when Izzy slipped behind him and rested his chin on a shoulder. "What does that mean?" He asked carefully, eyes darting to Slash who was watching them both silently. Axl's froze, face getting worryingly pale when Izzy wrapped his hands around his waist. He didn't know if Izzy had forgotten his fucking boyfriend was sitting across the room. "Jeff, what are you—you know we can't..."
But then an important part of Izzy's previous sentence struck him in the face with the force of a baseball bat.
"Izzy..." He whined, frantically clutching at the hand that had strayed down the belt of his robe, because damn it, Isbell—the tricky fucker—should be illegal in every state. He should be resisting (just like he should go to mass on Sunday), but Christ he had always been weak when it came to Izzy. "What common ground?" He bit out, sounding a lot steadier than he felt. Axl was both afraid and thrilled to hear the answer.
"You." Izzy said simply, tugging the bow loose.
Axl's hand fell limp at his side, and he quickly sought out Slash's eyes. But the fucker was smiling softly, legs spreading just a bit.
Axl allowed his robe to fall, eyes never leaving Slash's, still not convinced this wasn't just one of his fantasies. Maybe he had called asleep on the bus, but Izzy's blunt nails raking up his bare sides put a bullet in that notion.
God, this was really happening.
"Get on the bed, spread those lovely legs of yours." Izzy breathed, nipping gently at Axl's skin. "Put on a show." He hesitated, caught between wanting to obey and trying to make sense of what the fuck was happening.
“Come on, Princess.” Slash beckoned, head tilted back, a smirk playing on those full lips and his body moved before he registered it. Axl perched on the bed, lowering his eyes when Slash made a little sound of appreciation, hoping no one noticed the blush spreading across his skin.
"Well then, Angel." Izzy said, bed sinking under his weight as he sat next to Axl, close enough to touch, but their skins never made contact. "Spread 'em, you never had a problem spreading them for me. Never had a problem screaming loud enough to wake the dead either."
Axl whimpered, but obeyed, face heating at the thought of how exposed he was.
"Show him." Izzy was whispering again, voice tantalizingly soft. "How you like it."
How could he say no to that? Not like he'd ever been able to. Not since he was like six.
Axl spread his legs wider, wrapping his fingers around his half-hard length. Izzy hummed a gentle noise of encouragement, so he continued, tugging at his length with a deliciously slick hand, eyes falling closed.
Fuck, if he wasn't going to hell before (god sure had a lot to say about same sex relationships... OK maybe it was just one verse but whatever), there was not a snowball's chance in hell for him now.
Izzy smiled even harder when the redhead's eyes slammed shut, brows furrowed in concentration. Axl tried not to think about anything, tried to focus on the sound of their breathing, the weight of their eyes against his skin, the hot drag of his hand—but yeah, his mind had always worked against him. It was happy enough to rifle through his fantasies—the ones he never told Slash about— the ones including all three of them, fucking like animals, Izzy watching him ride Slash’s cock like before, only this time he joined in. He pressed the fingers of his free hand against his tongue, sucking on them in an effort to block the pitiful whimpers leaving him.
Somehow he ended up on his back, spit-slick fingers rubbing against his tight furl of muscle, hips pumping his cock into his too-tight grip, just on the edge of painful but hey, it’s what he liked. When Axl slipped a finger inside, Slash squeezed his eyes shut at the desperate groan that pushed pass his lips, trying his best to get his breathing under control.
Axl’s wrist protested the angle, he was just able to brush over that spot briefly, sparks shooting up his spine on the contact. Izzy chuckled when the redhead scrunched up his face, brows furrowed in irritation.
Damn him to hell, Axl thought, It had been a while since he did this for himself.
After a few seconds Axl growled and pulled his finger out, cussing a blue streak while at it. This would be much easier if someone would fucking help him out.
"Izzy..." He cried, legs falling open. "Please, I need it." That was about all they would get out of him, the closest he'd get to begging.
Izzy, or the Dark Lord Satan—the names were interchangeable—wasn't having it tonight.
"Say it, who do you want?" Izzy kissed his quivering stomach, smiling when Axl huffed in frustration. He had always hated talking, begging, anything that had Izzy smirking down at him exactly like that.
"Slash." He said softly, more a breath than a word, when the emptiness became too much, when images of Slash's talented fingers flashed in his head.
Izzy laughed, and again Axl wondered if Izzy had a direct connection to his head. "He wants you."
Slash nodded, bewildered, as if he couldn't believe Axl would ever want him when Izzy was right there."Yeah..."
Axl held his breath at the sound of the cap flicking open, forced himself to close his eyes, to wound up to look. "I can take two." He whispered quickly, need outweighing embarrassment.
Slash's slick fingers pressed in, just the right side of thick, giving Axl the stretch he craved. The redhead groaned, voice cracking when Slash quickly found that spot that made him writhe.
A dark chuckle washed over him and yeah, Izzy was there too, watching him so carefully Axl started to feel a bit self conscious (and so turned on his head was spinning).
"So greedy, Angel." Izzy murmured, then curled over him, tonguing at the head of his weeping cock, sending intense jolts of pleasure through his whole body. Axl gave in and cried out, air leaving his lungs all at once. "Izzy, fuck. That’s, too much." Because he really shouldn't have lost track of that fucker a moment. Axl was considering cumming all over himself then and there and passing the fuck out, but he wanted, needed to be fucked.
Izzy sighed theatrically, flicking his tongue against the head a final time. "Fine. I'll keep it above the waist."
That wasn't much better.
Slash crooked his fingers just as Izzy tugged on a nipple, toying with his piercing in a way he damn well knew rubbed Axl in all the right ways—because apparently it was connected directly to his cock.
Axl closed his eyes to save himself, but it was even worse that way, because then he couldn't predict just what Izzy would do and was quickly overrun by sensation, a hot mouth closing around a pebbled nipple, a tongue forcing its way between his lips and licking the cries from his mouth, fingers thrusting relentlessly in and out of his channel at just the right angle; someone rubbed at that delicious spot beneath the head if his dick causing him to gasp for breath, hand reaching out to cling to Izzy’s arm.
"Fucking fuck." He slurred wholeheartedly, trying to ride Slash's fingers as best as he could, even as he let Izzy tongue fuck his mouth.
Christ, what gave him the idea he could've handled them both while keeping his soul intact? This was a shitty plan.
"You okay baby?" Slash asked, working a third finger inside him, watching that pink hole stretch obscenely around his fingers. God, he was beautiful everywhere, singing like he never had before, body twisting and curling under Slash’s watchful gaze.
Izzy finally pulled away, hand still tangled in his hair, granting him the permission to speak.
"Fuck me, someone fuck me please." He babbled, knowing a simple 'yes' would have sufficed, heart stopping when he wrenched his eyes open and saw the smirk on Slash's face. Fuck, he was enjoying this. Enjoyed ripping shreds of control from his grasp.
Axl clenched around him, teeth digging into his lip. He knew what was coming, but he still glanced expectantly at Izzy—beautiful Izzy, who was smiling more now than he had in weeks, lips reddened from their kissing.
"Who?" Izzy asked, stroking his thick cock languidly, watching Axl through heavy lidded eyes. "Who do you want inside you?"
Axls mouth flooded with saliva, he wanted to taste him. He wanted to feel him. God it'd been years, years since Izzy was with him like this.
He couldn't decide.
This was a lot easier in his fucking fantasies where he had no one to disappoint, no feelings to consider, nothing to think about except getting fucked. "Both." Whoops, no brain to mouth filter online when he was so far gone.
Slash chuckled, removing his fingers, tracing the loose pucker of his hole. "Sorry, I haven't stretched you enough for both of us."
The redhead bit back a moan at the thought, unable to hide the way his cock jumped, leaking unto his stomach.
Where did he find the energy to turn that shade of red?
Izzy slipped from the bed to stand next to Slash, whispered something to him quickly, hand slithering down to palm Slash's clothed erection. The guitarist whined, turning to kiss Izzy's lips. Their tongues tangled, kiss filthy and bruising, the redhead pressed his fingers to his lips, hips twitching at the sight of them.
He hoped he made it through the night alive; this was endless spank material, one for the books.
Axl echoed Slash's broken sound, trying to press his legs together—that did something right? Took the edge off?
The guitarists pulled away, breathing slightly harder, smiling like they had shared some secret message.
Axl, once again, didn't get it, until he did. A little too late, when he was on his hands and knees, back arched, just begging for any cock to fill him—too far gone to have any regrets.
"You ready Angel?"
Axl sucked in a breath, grinding his teeth together. "Holy fucking shit, if you ask me that one more time ill—"
He never got around to finishing that threat because Izzy pressed in, inch after inch, not faltering at the sounds of Axl's whimpers, forcing his way in and Axl’s words out, filling him in a way he hadn't been in years.
Axl hadn't exactly planned on cumming so soon, but when Izzy was finally all the way in, damp skin pressed against his, Axl had to grip the base of his cock so hard it hurt, fighting his orgasm off by sheer willpower (and brute force).
"You almost lost it, didn't you? Just from this…" Izzy breathed, and Axl was ridiculously pleased he sounded out of breath. "I felt it, felt you tighten around my cock."
Axl actually sobbed, because how could he have forgotten the mouth on this fucker, which had been his undoing one too many times. "Jesus Christ, Isbell, shut up." He snapped, wanting Izzy to move but hoping he wouldn't since the slightest thing would set him off and that would be embarrassing for everyone involved (i.e mostly him). "Don't you have better things to do with that mouth?"
Izzy sounded too smug for Axl's liking. "Nah, but you do."
He wasn’t given a chance to piece anything together—they seemed hell-bent on leaving him guessing—because Izzy pulled out and slammed in and Axl screamed, high and strangled, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the silky sheets.
He was on fire, burning in the best way possible, almost certain his neighbors would have a few choice words for him in the morning.
Izzy gripped his hair, yanking his head backwards, forcing him to arch even more, cock hammering in and out of Axl without pause, because of course every stroke of that cock had the power to wipe his mind clean and reduce him to a mess of tears and swears.
"Use his mouth."
Axl hoped Izzy wasn't talking to him, because that made no sense. He would really rather focus on bring fucked senseless, thank you.
His voice was really pass fucked now, his throat raw from his cries of ecstasy, he could feel Slash's eyes on him, well aware he was being watched—that fact making it hotter, fuck, what was wrong with him.
Slash swallowed thickly, approaching the bed quickly. Still a bit hesitant, he'd never fucked Axl like this, held him still then just fuck till he was screaming loud enough to shake down the walls. He cleared his throat, arousal thrumming beneath his skin. "Izzy... are you..?" Sure?
"Do it." Izzy said, grey eyes on his, sweat sticking wisps of his hair to his face. "He'll thank you for it later, if he can find his voice." The brunette stilled, waiting, teeth worrying his lower lips.
Slash pressed his cock against Axl's lips, watching him moan as he took every inch, cheeks flushing and eyes fluttering shut. "Oh fuck."
"Yeah, Sugar." Izzy agreed, gently building his rhythm back up. "He'll take you like a pro, loves when you rough him up, pull his hair.
Slash buried his fingers in Axl's sweaty hair and pulled him off, forced those baby blues to meet his eyes.
"Please, do it." Axl whined, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Please, Slash, I need to—"
Yeah, he got the idea.
They moved sinuously together, a well-oiled machine, Axl writhed between them, sharp cries vibrating against Slash's dick. He was dying to rub himself against the sheets, not above begging for a hand on his cock. Axl’s mind was a mess, only aware of the cock in his mouth, the one in his ass, the heat building inside him, Izzy's hands digging into his hips—hopefully leaving marks he could toy with tomorrow.
Fuck.
He wanted to die like this, hell and sin be damned.
"Fuck, he loves it when you spank him." Izzy panted, clearly for Slash's benefit. “He’s an Angel, but the devil when he wants to be. Mostly when he wants to be punished for something.”
He brought his hand down sharply against the pale skin of Axl's ass, hissing when Axl clenched around him.
The redhead could feel his balls drawing taught, thighs quivering as he fought the urge to fall flat on his face.
The second forced hot tears from Axl, who pulled off of Slash's length, afraid he'd bite him. On the third, he lost it, cock spurting thick ropes of cum. He couldn’t find the energy to scream anymore, swollen lips fell open but emitted no sound. Izzy stilled, murmuring words foreign to them both, spilling in Axl's ass, trying to fuck him through his orgasm, though Axl got so tight he could barely manage it.
The redhead’s hands gave way and he crumpled in a heap, pressing his sweaty face against the sheets for a while before he raised his head weakly, wanting to taste Slash, whispering a silent curse when ropes of his come landed on his upturned face. He raised a trembling hand to his cheek, coating his fingers with the mess and sucking on it with a little grunt.
What a waste.
Slash laughed shakily, so he must have said it out loud. He, however, was too busy collapsing into a—gross—wet spot to care.
He was so fucking done.
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Axl woke up clean (probably thanks to Izzy’s mother-henning), sated and aching in the best way. His jaw ached like a bitch and he hoped no one expected him to get out of bed today because he no qualms in telling them he was too fucked out to ‘adult’ for at least a week. A cursory glance to the left showed Slash, the first culprit, tangled in the sheets, breathing softly.
That meant the heat to his right belonged to the partner in crime—
"You okay, Angel?"
Of course the creeper was smoking while watching him sleep. Seriously those damn parliaments would be his doom. "Wow, uhm…Creeper much?" And woah, talking without his voice sounding wrecked as fuck was probably not on the list of things he could do today.
Izzy tilted his head to peer down at Axl, looking so pleased Axl sorta wanted to punch him a little. He would, if he could fucking move without wincing (and really he wouldn't give Izzy the satisfaction). "Your lips are swollen."
"So is your ego." He sniped, shifting unto his stomach and hissing sharply.
"That doesn't make sense." The brunette was finally smiling, a soft little thing that tugged at Axl's heartstrings. In a manly way, of course.
"It does." He said, because it was expected of him. He really wasn't in the mood to argue, all he wanted was to pull Izzy to him, curl up and sleep till judgement day (when he'd be sent to hell for being a whore—worth).
Izzy snorted and glanced away, absently running a hand and through Axl's curls. "You got what you wanted, huh?"
Axl's throat tightened, because he had expected this too. He desperately wanted to scream that this was not what he had wanted; he wanted them to stay together, forever. "Because clearly I wanted to be fucked into an early grave."
The soft chuckled beside him signalled Slash was now awake. "It wasn't that bad. It looked like you were enjoying it well enough."
"Sure sounded like it too." Izzy cocked his head as if hearing the sounds from last night in the distance. "Ah yes, 'please fucking fuck me' was it?"
The redhead buried his blush in the pillow, refusing to face them even when Slash through an arm over him and Izzy nudged him with an elbow.
"Come on babe, ain't no shame in enjoying yourself."
Slash snorted softly. "Yeah, I'm sure the neighbourhood disagrees."
"More like all of California." Izzy corrected, snuggling up to Axl.
"Remind me never to try this at home." Slash teased. "James would freak and feel the need to give me the talk again."
"The talk?" Axl finally asked, voice muffled. Because the last time he checked, Slash was twice as loud when getting fucked. So James couldn't exactly blame Axl—the thought of James' lectures honestly terrified him.
"Soundproofing the rooms." He answered, pressing a kiss to Axl's bare shoulder. "As soon as you left last week he promptly reminded me that the rooms aren't soundproofed and you have quite the set of lungs on you."
Izzy sputtered out a laugh and soon enough Slash joined in till Axl was certain the walls were trembling.
Forget it; he'd gladly take death instead of these two ganging up on him any day.