14 years - Axl Rose x OC

29

A/N: Well...I tried.

Backstage, in the corner of the building, far away from bystanders, crew members, or personnel of any kind, Lita Monroe sat, patiently waiting. She sat rigid, expecting—if one were to see her now they might say she looked excitedly fearful.

Lita wasn't in a dressing room; no, she was in an old, dust-ridden room, no larger than a sizable broom closet. It was the second show at that venue in Ireland, on the European leg of the tour, and Lita sat still, just as she had been told to.

Yesterday, after Lita performed for two hours to make up for the lack of Axl's presence, she stayed in her dressing room, not wanting to join her bandmates and friends. Axl was still nowhere to be seen, at least not to Lita. She laid, tired and slumped against the couch when a small piece of paper slipped under the door. Lita saw it, her head sideways. Confused, she slowly got up from her sleeping position and bounded for the note.

Lita picked it up effortlessly. Unfolding the lined paper, she read it: "Tomorrow. After the show. Meet me here."

Below the words were a set of directions quickly inscribed, as if in haste. A point ran from her current position (dressing room; marked) and down a set of drawn hallways, past markings titled "stage" and "lighting" until the line ended abruptly at a room marked "meeting".

A smirk grew evilly on Lita's face, her smile turning her lips up in a curl. So today, after the show, when she mysteriously didn't see Axl again all night, Lita rushed to finish her preparations before meeting her maker.

Under the drawing given to her by this mysterious person, a set of requirements read off to her, trusting that Lita would dress appropriately for the occasion. Lita was dressed in loose sweatpants–stolen from Axl no doubt–and a baggy Los Angeles Lakers sweatshirt. She shivered, for Lita wore nothing under either garment. Now she moved slightly on the dingy armchair: the only one in the room. It was almost time.

Five more minutes passed before the door handle jiggled and opened. Axl emerged from the opening; with him a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He approached the chair holding out a stick. "I thought I'd get here before you," he spoke, lighting Lita's cigarette. He sat on the chair's arm.

"Well I didn't want to be late," Lita smiled. "I didn't see you today or yesterday, Axl. I was wondering where you were."

"I was around," he smoked, moving his hand to play with Lita's hair. She shivered again. "And maybe I wanted you to wait for me."

"I tried to get into your room last night but you weren't there," Lita frowned. She could see his pupils pulse at her words. Axl removed his hand from her bouncing blonde curls and down her neck, squeezing slightly before he stopped at her shoulder, pulling at the sweater's collar.

"I didn't want you to mess up what I had planned," Axl said, now leaning in. He gripped her shoulder as his lips moved in to kiss Lita aggressively. Lita shuddered, having expected the unexpected and wanting more than she could handle. Axl pulled at Lita's chin, bringing her closer with his other hand. Lita tried to grab at his shirt, but Axl stopped her.

"In a minute," he whispered, pulling her face back. Axl moved his hands from her neck and shoulders, instead grabbing at the zipper of his jeans, unbuttoning them at the top. Still sitting on the arm of the chair, Axl pushed the top of his pants down for Lita to see the bulge in his pants. "When I saw you on stage yesterday...and earlier..."