Every muscle in Axl's body froze, except for his lips and tongue, animated by a sudden lust so brutish it reduced him to pure instinct. Jon's mouth was soft but aggressive, and tasted of expensive tequila, and when Axl finally pulled away, gasping for breath, the other man assaulted his neck with that hungry mouth, digging in with lips and teeth alike. Axl's knees buckled.
"Christ," he panted. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"You want me, don't you?" Jon growled into the curve between Axl's neck and shoulder. "I can make that happen."
"I don't-- I--"
"Don't deny it," Jon said. "Your cock is fucking solid already."
Axl attempted to pivot his body away, to hide the evidence of his craving, but there was no room. Jon shoved himself in closer, forcing the man's thighs open, and rolled his hips against him. Axl groaned.
"Get off me," he said, but it was weak, and even as he said it, he was pushing himself into the onslaught.
"Is that what you really want?"
"Yes," Axl said. The anger at the idea of surrender, mixed with knowing that refusing surrender meant no relief from the inferno his body had become, caused his stomach to clench down into a bitter fist.
Jon backed away, fixing him with that laser-stare again. "Okay," he said. "Go ahead and go, if you want. But I'll be here."
He turned his back on Axl, and strolled in the direction of the master bedroom. There was a moment where Axl thought about how stupid of a move it was, turning his back. How Axl could have done anything in that moment-- jumped him, choked him, taken the vase full of wildflowers that sat on a decorative pedestal next to the door and crushed it over the back of his head. But he didn't move. Instead, he watched Jon Bon Jovi disappear through the doorway of the bedroom, leaving the door open.
And then he followed.
Jon stood next to the king bed, his back still to the door, his shirt already stripped off and tossed on the carpet. As he worked at the fastenings of his pants, he turned. He seemed unsurprised to see he still had company.
"Come over here," he said.
"This is fucking ludicrous," Axl said. He could hear the shaking in his voice as he said it.
"Come over here. I wanna know what you feel like."
Axl shuffled over to the place where Jon was, and stood a foot away from him, unsure what to do next. Unsure why he was still there, or why in the living fuck his body and brain were so chaotic, and doing things that made his heart skip with six different kinds of terror.
When Jon cupped the back of his head and pulled him into another kiss, he leaned into it this time, wrapped his arms around the man, sinking his fingernails into the naked flesh of his shoulder blades. He was strong. It hadn't been just the luck of the move that caused him to overcome Axl at the door-- he was genuinely strong. His particular brand of beauty was deceptive.
The desire for him took Axl's breath.
Jon pushed him down onto the bed and crawled over top of him, pinning his wrists up beside his head. "I'm game for a lotta things, but I ain't sucking your dick."
"Okay."
"You been with a guy before?" Jon asked, leaning back on his knees and sliding his hands up under Axl's shirt. His palms were cool against the hot skin of Axl's stomach and chest, and it forced a shudder through Axl's body.
"Yeah," he whispered.
Jon smiled. "Your guitarist, right? The rhythm guitarist."
Axl lifted his head in surprise, opened his mouth to question the knowledge, but Jon interrupted.
