Ch. 4 - Headspace
Me
I'm a man
Who is trudging
Best I can
Through a minefield
Built to blast
Can I make it
Will I last
Free my mind, levitate
Don't let any of those fuckers in my headspace
Please
Let me be
No more questions
No more needs
You're the cancer
You're the leech
Sent to bleed me
Of disease
Free my mind, levitate
Don't let any of those fuckers in my headspace
Let me go my own way
Burn the rest of them that try to keep me enchained…
'Headspace' by Velvet Revolver
...
Warnings: M/M pairings, multiple partners, explicit sex, drug and alcohol mention/abuse
Slash gets a wake-up call
...
2005 – April, San Francisco, Velvet Revolver – Slash, Duff, Matt, Dave and Scott
Coming off a set was like coming down off a high, the buzzing energy and trance-like connection to the music leaking away the further he stepped from the stage. Slash sighed, pushing his sweat-soaked hair back a bit, wishing for his shades as he moved from the darker back-stage to the brightly lit halls that led to the changing rooms, Duff and the rest of the guys following in loose camaraderie.
They took just enough time to refresh a bit, wipe off the sweat, grab fresh shirts, before heading out en masse to the hit the after party. Gaggles of kids in hundred-dollar versions of street-rat gear ringed the path to the limo, screaming and writhing as they vied for the band's attention.
Boys and girls alike sported knock-off top hats and mirrored glasses, scattered through the crowd, right alongside suicide blondes with dark roots, and Slash counted at least a dozen sets of tits and lean, smooth chests flashed at them as they walked past, the owners hoping to score a wild night with men at least twice their age. He had to admit there were a few tasty choices, more than glad his favored aviators and loose curls made it virtually impossible to tell who or what he was looking at as he walked along.
Almost at the car, a small group caught his eye, and he frowned as a faint whiff of memory tickled at him. Three young men stood with measured ease, their nonchalance a jarring note in the sea of teenage hormonal frenzy. Two blondes and one with long, dark hair, smirking, smoking, all eyes locked directly on his despite the mirrored plastic barrier he wore.
Almost walking into Duff's back, he shook his head, and looking back, could no longer find them in the throng. Duff chuckled as Slash slid next to him in the limo's ample back seats.
"Got a little distracted, hmm? Not that I blame you…some nice racks on display out there."
Slash just shrugged, giving a dry chuckle back. "Yeah, looked like mostly store-bought though. I prefer 'em a little more real."
Scott giggled unnaturally, drawing wary looks from the rest of the band. "Little bounce 'n jiggle when you're pounding 'em, yeah?"
The rest of the guys eyed each other, smiling uncomfortably and nodding. Scott had been in decent shape through the set, but you didn't have to have known him long to know he'd been high off his ass, motions jerky and eyes glazed as he sang.
The ride to the hotel was blessedly quick, the conversation along the way starting a little awkward but getting easier as they focused on the concert itself. There were a number of fans that had caught everyone's eye, and a few stumbles, both physical and musical, they teased each other about.
The party was lively enough, even though most of the band was playing it straight. Management kept the groupies, both male and female, to just a small gathering, leaving time for more shop talk and winding down with crew and roadies.
Making it to the hotel in relatively good spirits, Slash headed straight to the bar, grabbing a bottle of red and a glass and looking for a place to light as he poured. Duff sat with him and a few of the venue crew that had been invited, swapping tales of cranky equipment and capricious musicians for a while.
Something jangled at Duff's nerves tonight, making relaxation elusive. Sensing someone staring, he glanced around the room, his roving gaze caught and held by an attractive young man. The youth had silken, ebony hair that cascaded down his shoulders and over the vest he wore.
Duff felt uneasy under the regard of the intense young man, his look a little too serious for the usual starry-eyed wanna-be musician type, making the boy seem older than he appeared at first glance. Shrugging it off, the blonde bassist got up and wandered away, cycling to another room, another conversation.
Matt and Dave were chatting up some very pretty young ladies in very tiny tank tops that were clearly enraptured by talking to actual Rock Stars™, and Duff couldn't help but smirk watching them. It didn't seem like it'd turn into much, but even if they did get lucky it wouldn't hurt anyone.
The party wound down quickly, given that Slash was the only one really drinking and there wasn't much else going on besides the remains of a decent buffet that pretty much everyone had ravaged. Scott had disappeared and no one wanted to kill the pleasant evening by finding out what he was up to, preferring to believe he'd show at the next rehearsal and not just turn up dead.
Duff sighed, leaning against a wall as his gaze slid unfocused over the dregs of the party. Keeping track of Scott's status and whereabouts was frustrating, and as pointless as running on a treadmill. Even dealing with Slash when he was plastered left him feeling worn thin, far more often than he'd like to admit.
It's not like he didn't understand, he knew all too well the siren call of oblivion coming from the bottom of a bottle or syringe. Without the paradigm shift caused by his own excruciating brush with death, he'd likely be just as wasted as his friends.
Some days being around either them left him with a hollow, brittle feeling, an aching loss for something that hasn't disappeared just yet, but is still beyond reach. Cocooned in their substance-fueled haze Scott and Slash were drifting away.
Slash at least seemed able, as always, to hit his marks when it was performance time. Then again, the way music poured from the lead guitarist's fingers as naturally as most people breathed, it didn't seem possible for him not to.
Giving up on the night, Duff waved at the crowd and took his leave. He'd forgotten all about the young man that bothered him earlier, till he saw the boy leaning against a wall near the elevators as he made his way to his room.
The young man was nearly as tall as he was, head lifting, curtain of long hair parting as Duff walked past. He fell in to step with the musician, matching his stride with casual ease.
Frowning, Duff paused, turning to face the young fan. An unfavorable thought regarding the security detail flashed through his mind, certainly the boy shouldn't have been able to just hang around unescorted on their floor.
"Look man, I appreciate your interest, but now's not the time. Why don't you see one of the staff, let 'em know I told 'em to get you… a shirt… or some…thing? ... "
Duff paused as deep umber eyes met his topaz ones, his words trailing off as he lost himself in the shorter man's gaze.
"Weren't you going to invite me back?"
Somehow, the young man's regard intensified, though amusement glinted from the mahogany depths.
Duff blinked, mind suddenly slow and thick. "Oh…yeah? Yeah, I guess I was, ah, um…"
"Dwayne."
"Oh, yeah, yeah. Dwayne. Dwayne! Yeah, man, come on back, let's hang for a while…"
Duff laid his arm over the other man's muscular shoulders, pulling him along, wondering how he'd forgotten Dwayne was waiting for him. Opening the door to the room, he gestured at the other man, who'd stood back as Duff fumbled with the room key.
"Come on in, man. Make yourself comfortable."
The darker man's smirk turned into a full-blown smile, eyes flashing with humor.
"Thanks."
He walked smoothly past Duff, glancing around the room with only passing interest before turning back to stare at his host. The tall blonde closed the door, losing his train of thought as he faced his handsome guest.
There was something about the young man, a vague familiarity that poked at Duff's brain. A haze was settling into his thoughts, leaving him feeling like he was on the downside of a high despite being clean for years. The bassist frowned, vainly trying to clear his mind.
"Do I know you?"
A hungry smile graced full lips, brightening Dwayne's chiseled features. The image of a panther ready to pounce flashed in Duff's mind, sending a jolt of excitement down his spine. A cool hand cupped his chin, eyes dark as midnight drawing the blonde in.
"Would you like to?"
...
Back in the party suite, Slash was settling in, happily ignoring pretty much everybody in favor of the swiftly emptying bottles of wine stacked by his side of the couch. Half-listening to the conversations going on around him, half sunk into the music playing in his head, he missed the young man moving in to sit next to him.
He was aware enough to know Scott had wandered off, probably topping off the buzz he'd hit the stage with. His stomach clenched, sick with worry about the future of the band, the future of the friendships and connections he had with his bandmates.
Time for some more wine, to drown out the pain of uncertainty, the fear that once again, everything was falling to shit. He knew it wouldn't really help, hiding his feelings behind the alcohol, he just really wanted to enjoy the high spots while there still were some, before the crash they all knew was coming finally hit.
Feeling the couch dip and bounce, Slash looked up from his nearly empty glass to see a boy had plopped down close enough that his leg brushed the guitarist's own. He had short blonde hair almost as curly as Slash's, and a knowing grin beneath hooded sea-green eyes.
Slash raised his glass in tipsy salute, and the young blonde's smile widened. The guitarist could swear the boy batted his lashes, but that could just have been the room swaying as the alcohol took over.
Glancing around the room, he noticed the band had mostly retired to their rooms, and the idea suddenly seemed like a very good one to the wild-haired musician. He stood unsteadily, and the boy made a silent offer of assistance, one arm outstretched as he sidled close.
Fuck it, why not? Slash nodded his appreciation, throwing a heavy arm over the kid's shoulders, barely noticing the way the younger man slipped an arm around his back to grip low on the rocker's hip.
The pair made their way out of the suite, Slash waving and grinning at crew and roadies as they passed. As they made it to the elevator, another man joined them, slipping in with a smirk and a wink.
He looked about the same age as the boy under Slash's arm, though he felt older. With short cropped pale hair, and a white t-shirt and jeans, he was like a relic from the fifties.
Stumbling out of the elevator towards his room, the musician pulled his staunch supporter along with him, the James Dean look alike following unnoticed. Making the room, Slash felt the young man step back.
"Hey, what gives? Come in and chill for a while."
The curly blonde flashed a grin. "Okay if my friend joins us?" Over his shoulder the other blonde leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Looking up at being mentioned, his wide smile was full of charm.
"Oh, yeah. Come on, friend, it's cool."
They entered the suite, Slash making a bee-line for his stash of bottles in the kitchenette. He grabbed a few extra glasses and laid them out.
"You want some?"
The two boys glanced at each other, smirking in tandem. Spike-hair spoke up first.
"Sure. Looks like you have enough to spare."
Slash laughed. "Yeah, well, it helps get me through the day."
Pale blue eyes captured his, freezing him where he stood.
"What about the nights?" A voice soft and seductive washed over Slash, setting his heart thumping so hard in his chest he was surprised the defib didn't kick in.
He reached to push up his shades, only to realize they were still in place. The pale blonde smiled, gaze still locked on his own, despite the glasses, and Slash shuddered at the feeling of vulnerability.
His hand dropped a little, knocking the bottle he was holding against the countertop, loud enough to make Slash jump and break him out of his trance. He focused on pouring, setting the bottle down carefully and gesturing to the glasses.
"Help yourselves, ah…"
"David" said the spike-haired man. "And this is my brother, Marko."
"Cool. Nice to meet you both." Slash picked up his own glass in mock toast. "So, you big fans or something?"
"Or something." David smirked, lifting a glass and taking a sip of wine. "Been following your work since the beginning."
Slash snorted. "Really? What, your parents get laid to my stuff?"
David and Marko both laughed deeply, sharing an amused glance. "Definitely not. We're a bit older than we look."
Eyeing them both, Slash laughed himself, waving his glass at Marko. "That's good to hear, 'cause he barely looks legal."
Rather than be annoyed, Marko smiled gently, glancing up from under half-lowered lids. Slash was still for a moment, feeling his cock twitch as he stared at the youth.
Marko grabbed a glass, and the guitarist watched in rapt attention as his lips met the rim, the way his throat bobbed slowly as he swallowed, an almost imperceptible hitch of breath from the dark-haired man as the boy's tongue darted out, catching a stray drop on his lower lip. Sea-green eyes met rich earth brown, sparkling with a promise that left the rocker's throat suddenly dry.
A dry chuckle broke the spell, and Slash turned to face David, cheeks flushing at the wicked grin on the blonde's face.
"Why don't we get more comfortable?"
That velvet voice rolling over Slash didn't so much quell the spark Marko had ignited in the tawny-skinned man as fan it brightly. The guitarist licked parched lips, nodding almost imperceptibly.
"Yeah…go sit down, I'll join you."
As the two blondes took their glasses and went to get comfortable in the sitting area, Slash went and grabbed one of his acoustic guitars, a last-ditch effort to put a little space between him and these enticing young men.
Settling down on the far end of a couch, he set the instrument in his lap, already feeling more at ease with the familiar weight of it on his legs, the twang of strings under his fingers. He strummed it idly, chords bleeding into riffs as his mind shifted to musical expression of his mood.
Slash closed his eyes, letting music pour out, feeling it betray his feelings as the melody came out in turns both slow and grinding then slick and dirty. He almost stopped playing, faltering for a moment, a sudden wave of dizziness set his head bobbing unsteadily, dissipating as swiftly as it had hit, leaving him more determined to let the music flow as it willed.
Marko shifted, moving closer till his leg lay against Slash's. David slid out of the chair he'd been in to sit on the arm of the couch, light hand coming to rest on the musician's far shoulder.
Slash shuddered at their touch, fingers pulling low growls out of the instrument laying across his tightening groin. When Marko's fingers started sliding up his thigh, the guitar wasn't the only thing growling.
Cool hands caressed a tan cheek, gently removing the aviators. Slash blinked, tilting his head away and back again as he continued playing, shying away from meeting Marko's hungry gaze.
Marko continued to knead Slash's leg with gentle pressure, sending sparks right to his crotch. The music halted sharply when a gentle hand lifted his wild hair, lips and blunt teeth grazing softly along the back of his neck, leaving the musician groaning, grip on the guitar turning rigidly white-knuckled.
Those wicked lips brushed his ear, a surprisingly cool tongue caressing the outer shell as Slash sucked in a sharp breath, shifting in his seat.
"Look at Marko" a voice like smoke over gravel urged the musician. Reluctantly, he looked up at the curly blonde, only to be set aflame by the ravenous gaze coming from under hooded storm green eyes.
"Go ahead, you know he wants you."
The words rumbled through Slash, tearing down his resistance, making his fingers twitch, body stretch and cock turn more than half-hard in his tight leather pants. That lecherous mouth was moving again, nipping along his neck and short-circuiting his thoughts.
Marko skimmed off his band shirt, smile going wide as he watched the dark-haired man track down his body. Reaching over, he pried the guitar gently away, laying it carefully on the low table nearby.
Like a prowling cat, the boy crawled up and sat in Slash's lap, grinding narrow hips down with wicked intent. The move had his target groaning, muscular arms sliding up the pale skin of Marko's back.
Seizing the moment, the curly blonde dove at Slash's generous lips, down his throat, under a swiftly rucked up shirt with measured passion, a well-banked fire lapping over terra cotta skin, igniting everything it touched. Any reticence Slash had was long gone, the young man clearly knew what he was about, all that pale peach flesh under guitar-callused fingers begging to be touched, tasted, marked.
Behind him, hands slid up his back, gripping the hem of the rocker's shirt to help lift it off. Marko continued his path downwards, making short work of button and zipper, pushing Slash's leather pants down solid hips to let his thick, uncut cock spring free.
Slash moaned when Marko dipped to taste the head of his dick, laying a heavy hand down to clutch golden curls. David's hands were wandering, twisting pebbled nipples almost too hard, scratching lightly at tawny chest and sides with sharp nails and soft fingertips in turns, as Slash squirmed between the two men.
Marko lifted his head, fiery gaze pinning Slash as he dove in for another kiss, hand tugging gently at a rock-hard, weeping cock, eagerly swallowing ragged gasps coming from the darker man. Teasing lips brushed the back of Slash's neck again, kissing a path to an earlobe, nipping carefully around the dangling golden hoop attached.
"Care to take this to the bedroom?"
That gravel purr broke through single-minded entanglement. Panting heavily as he came up for air, Slash nodded, carding Marko's curls as he held the young man close.
"Yeah." He swallowed thickly, observing Marko's wicked grin. "Let's do that."
Marko was first to stand, hand out to help Slash stand as he pulled his pants back up. A cool hand on the middle of his back brushed down along the waistband, dipping under teasingly.
"Shoulda just let 'em drop."
Slash snorted, giving a quick shake of his hips as David followed him towards the bedroom. There was a loud crack as David smacked his ass, and Slash stopped dead, turning slowly, chest heaving slightly.
David's smirk turned to a devilish smile. He moved in close to the guitarist, hand snaking up into wild curls to fist and tug not entirely gently. Slash grunted at the sensation, pupils dilating.
"Oh, how lovely." David purred, grip tightening, watching intently as Slash's lips parted in a heated gasp. "That wasn't a request. Drop 'em. Now." His voice dropped lower, a sudden force behind the growl.
Slash licked dry lips, breath going shallow. His hands went to his waist, to remove the offending item, sliding it down, thick hair falling out of David's loosened grasp. As he stepped out of pants and shoes, David moved back in, nails scratching lightly down the guitarist's back, sharp eyes flashing as Slash shivered under his touch.
"Beautiful."
The rocker glanced over his shoulder, gaze meeting David's only briefly before dropping. A cool hand caressed the rocker's ass, kneading gently.
"Come along, someone's waiting for you."
Slash followed David's lead, the two walking into the bedroom of the suite, to find a naked Marko draped elegantly across a very large bed, the sheets already turned down, inviting smile on a devilish cherub's face.
"Go ahead, he's all yours."
David's voice was soft in Slash's ear, and the darker man crawled slowly up the bed, crouching over Marko. He dove into cupid bow lips, and, feeling the youth's hands tangle in his hair, the rocker broke to gasp for breath before trailing sloppy kisses down a graceful neck, attempting to leave marks in the cool, creamy skin.
Marko whined, curling up to grind into Slash's groin, the heavier man answering with a groan of his own at the contact. Mapping further, the black-haired man found his prize, starting in to tease and lap at a dick as sleek and picturesque as any carved from marble.
The leaner man cried out, bucking into Slash's tongue, fingers threading through wild, midnight curls. Slash wore his own wicked grin for a moment, then leaned in and swallowed the blonde down to the root, till his nose was nestled in bright, golden curls and the scent of musk, coupled with something earthy and sweet, was almost thick enough to taste.
Just as he was settling in to a rhythm that set Marko to twitch and coil, he felt a firm touch on his ass, hands kneading, caressing, dipping down to slide along the length of his cock. He groaned around Marko's dick, only to yelp in surprise as a tongue laved his entrance, blunt teeth scraping up his taint.
Strong hands spread his thighs wider, Slash shaking with sudden rush of desire at the sting and crack of a heavy smack against his ass. Another spank had his eyes watering, cock swinging heavy and hard, hands griping Marko's hips with bruising strength as his mouth clamped down on the youth's silken dick.
David's vulgar mouth was back, aggressive tongue breaching the musician now writhing at the carnal assault. Marko curled his hips in a slow thrust despite the fierce hold Slash maintained, gasping as the rocker sucked him down again.
Caught up, Slash yielded to the moment, awash in the pleasures washing over and through him; sensitive flesh ardently invaded, succulent skin of the sinuous youth squirming under his hands and mouth, sting of his scalp as hands fisted in his hair, the burn and ache of abused ass cheeks gripped and kneaded by rough hands.
The group pulled apart briefly, greased fingers igniting buried nerves, slicking up weeping, rock hard cocks, till they joined again, slotting together like perfectly fitted puzzle pieces. David set the pace, driving Slash forward into the breathtaking young man quivering and moaning beneath him.
Slash felt feverish, skin ablaze and core alight with a searing hunger he'd not felt in years. Sandwiched between the two blondes, at once enveloped and filled so completely, he shook with frantic need, the desire for release and for drowning forever in the moment warring within him.
A nearly brutal yank on wild, inky hair coupled with an open-handed smack on dusky skin left the musician trembling on the brink, mouth agape, piercing keen spilling out of full lips. Beneath him, Marko bucked up, dragging sharp fingernails down the rocker's back, bright, delicious pain lancing through him, and Slash was lost, climax slamming into his gut harder than David's thrusts, wringing deep wails from him with each pulse of his cock.
He felt his partners following him over the edge, Marko's body squeezing almost painfully around his over-sensitive dick, slick feel of cum filling him as David's cock emptied. They both had latched onto his neck as they came, the sting of hard love bites leaving his overworked nerves jerking and twitching, and he mewled, struggling weakly as he was pinned between them.
A mouth lifted, and a cool hand stroking a flushed cheek had Slash cracking his eyelids, meeting a sea-green gaze that held soft amusement. Like the deep ocean, those eyes pulled him under, and he swore he saw gold before he blacked out.
As the aging musician slumped gently across his chest, Marko chuckled, carding through curly hair and placing a light kiss on the man's forehead before rolling the unconscious man to the side. David was already siting back on his knees, putting himself back together, cigarette lit and tucked in smirking lips.
"He's holding up pretty well, considering."
David nodded at Marko's words, exhaling slowly as he pondered the target of their night's amusement.
"Almost. I think our friend here needs a little nudge in the right direction. It'd be a shame to lose him now."
He waited till Marko got up off the bed to move forward, carefully sliding the musician up towards the pillows, getting up himself to pull covers up and tuck the man in. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, he drew light fingers along the curve of the sleeping man's cheek and chin, enjoying the bristle of rough beard, cataloging the changes age and hard life had wrought.
Marko sat on the opposite edge, now dressed, watching David's tender ministrations.
"What's your plan?"
A wolfish smile grew on David's lips. "Time to scare our man straight."
Marko's eyes flashed gold for a moment, his smile matching David's as he nibbled absently on a thumbnail with sharp teeth.
All through the night, Slash tossed and turned, whimpering softly, caught in a looping gallery of nightmare images. Creatures out of his favorite horror movies, monsters and demons threatened and chased him, leaving him rent, dismembered, torn apart again and again, injured body oozing not blood but gallons upon gallons of red wine. Over and over, he drowned in watery cabernet, lungs choking on ruby liquid.
Dawn finally broke, and with it the dark spell he struggled under. Shocking awake at the release of the last tortuous vignette, he sat bolt upright, panting hard, hand on his chest to will his wildly beating heart to calm. The sky behind the dark curtains was just beginning to pale, and he looked around to see if he was alone.
The rooms seemed quiet and still, no one in the bed and no noise from the outer room. Stretching slowly, he winced as the aches and pains of the night before made themselves known.
Feeling sore and sticky and too strung out by a hard night's drinking and the shadows of nightmares to want to get out of bed and face anything, he groaned, pondering if it was worth getting up to see if there was anything left of any of the open bottles he'd left in the outer room. His stomach clenched painfully, and he laid back down, curling around the roiling in his gut.
"No more…" he whimpered around the pain, hoping this wasn't a precursor of another trip to a hospital. He was so tired of dealing with all of it, tired of feeling so dead and numb he couldn't even get up, didn't even want to, to play or get to practice, so afraid the music playing in his head would fade away if he wasn't able to pick up a guitar and bring it to life.
Tears fell unbidden, coursing down tan cheeks to pool in rumpled bedsheets as Slash pulled the covers up over himself, hiding the pain and shame he felt away. Shaky breathing gave way to shuddering, quiet sobs, finally fading as sleep reclaimed him once more.
...
Duff whined, hands kneading Dwayne's back as the dark-haired man rocked into him. The young man had him pinned effortlessly against the wall, strong hands pressing long thighs up, bending the musician nearly in half as the blonde was fucked slow and deep.
Dwayne, nestled against Duff's chest as the rocker held on to him, attacked every inch of skin in reach, leaving his partner's torso covered in a scatter of red and purple marks. The blonde musician writhed, deliciously tortured by the way painfully pleasurable nips and hard, sucking bites sent shocks straight to his neglected cock.
A roll of Dwayne's hips set Duff throwing his head back to hit the wall hard, vainly attempting to curl hips in, held ruthlessly on the edge by his beautiful tormentor, abdomen quivering in pent up need. Soft lips pressed against his throat, clamping down and sucking hard.
Dwayne sped up his pace, ramming hard enough to leave skid marks on Duff's back as he was bounced harshly against the wall. Duff was beyond caring, hands gripping raven locks tight, grunts shifting to high moans as climax loomed.
Shifting, Dwayne braced both Duff's legs with one arm, changing the angle and allowing him to grasp the taller man's aching cock, rubbing roughly in time with his sharp thrusts. The blonde gave a piercing wail, painting them both with a sticky fountain of release. Dwayne followed, slowing to a rolling grind as he came, filling Duff with his spend.
Duff trembled as he was set down, legs wobbly as a newborn foal, and Dwayne chuckled deeply, hefting him with ease. Laying the tall man on the nearby bed, he watched him crawl shakily towards the middle, climbing in once the musician had settled.
An inky curtain fell across Duff's vision as Dwayne leaned over him, planting slow, wet kisses along the line of the bassist's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. In post-orgasmic haze, Duff felt his mind go thick, barely noticing the sting of pain in his neck before he surrendered to unconsciousness.
...
It was nearly noon when Duff woke, smiling and stretching as memories of the night before came trickling back, along with the realization he was a bit sticky and sore. He sat up, looking to see if the young man had stuck around.
Not seeing the youth, he frowned, getting up to check his wallet and jewelry, relaxing when nothing was missing. Heading to the bathroom with intent to shower, he stopped cold as he caught a glance of himself in the mirror.
His chest might as well have been a polka-dot shirt for all the love bites scattered over it, and there was a huge purple hickey nearly the size of his palm up by his throat. He leaned on the sink, swearing softly and fighting the urge to toss something at the betraying image before him.
What the everlasting fuck was he going to tell his wife? Maybe he could come up with some reason to stay away from home for a few days, till the bruising faded?
Getting in the shower, he decided he'd hit up Slash. Maybe Scott needed some babysitting or something, but he was sure his best wingman could come up with suggestions to help him out of the mess he'd just made.
...
Slash woke up the second time that day to a heavy pounding noise. At first, he thought it was just a hangover, and he wasn't entirely wrong as the room swayed nauseatingly when he sat up. The noise continued though, and it hit him it was probably someone at the outer door.
Making his wobbly way to the door, getting slightly steadier as he went, he opened it a crack to see who it was. Finding Duff on the other side, he relaxed, waving the tall man in and closing the door behind him.
Looking at the state Slash was in, Duff snickered. "Looks like we both had a great night."
Slash cracked a lopsided smile, huffing a laugh. "Yeah. Least it was, right up till I passed out."
Duff sighed. "I was checking in on ya. Something you need?"
Slash shook his head, then ran a hand through disheveled curls.
"Nah…I've actually been thinking…I wanna go back to rehab, for good this time."
The look he gave Duff was shaky, full of vulnerability and hope. Duff gave him a gentle smile, reaching out to put a supporting hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I believe you, man. You want me to stick around, come visit you while you're in?"
Slash nodded, timid smile gracing his lips. "That'd be…I'd really like that."
"You set a date? Your lady's gonna want to know."
"No, I… what is today, Tuesday? Friday, man. I'm gonna make sure I'm in by Friday."
"How about you and I stay together till then, make sure nothing bad happens?"
Slash's smile was blinding, and if his eyes glistened a little wetly, well, Duff didn't care to make any mention of it. The naked man reached to throw his arms around his tall friend, but Duff just laughed and backed up.
"I love you too, man, but damn you stink!"