Book One: Bad Boys Make the Most Noise | Slash

chapter seven

Sloan

My head ached immensely and I wanted nothing more than the warmth of my covers and darkness of my own, messy, room. Though as Slash requested to stay the night that idea slowly drew it's way out of the window, hanging by a noose. "I'll show you to my pit." I grumbled, tiredly. "But I have to warn you, it's extremely disgusting." I said, walking in front of him up the creaking, wooden, stairs to the open door to my room. We walked inside and it seemed as though he didn't even notice the copious amounts of trash upon the floor, dodging the clothing and accessories and also the old pizza lying in the box of which I'd forgotten to throw away.

"Its fine." He shrugged, taking a seat on the bed.

Grabbing the appropriate clothing for the night, I began to walk toward the door when his rough voice cut me off. "Where are you going?" He asked, humorously. "Get over here, it's your bed." He laughed, removing his ripped blue jeans. The areas around his inner thighs were utterly destroyed and I pittied the poor material as he slung it beside the bed, removing his socks and taking off the sunglasses perching on his head.

"But there's not enough room-"

"I'on't mind a cuddle, Sloan." He joked. "Come on, I don't bite. Unless you want me to, that is. And if so, do tell me where." I rolled my eyes, wandering into the bathroom and removing the leather pants and leaving the shirt on, unclasping the bra and slinging it off, only to be left in my top and underwear. I brushed my teeth only briefly, dashing some cold water upon the warm flesh of my cheeks, turning off the dim light and wandering over to the small, single, bed. He was already snuggled beneath the dark covers, smiling daisily as his curly hair crammed around his face. "Move over." I grumbled, slowly climbing in beside him.

"Sloan, sweetheart, my ass is hanging off the bed." He said, seriously. I let out a rumble of laughter, taking a small shuffle closer to where his warm body lay, chest rising up and down steadily. I heard him sigh slightly, most probably rolling his eyes, before he scooted closer and wrapped his arm securely around my waist, dragging my back directly against his chest before he whispered in my ear, "Goodnight, Sloan. You fucking freak." But I could hear the amusement in his tone, so instead of feeling hurt or something stupid, I pinched the back of his hand with a little smirk. He chuckled down the back of my neck, nestling further into me before his steady breathing descended into light snores, an irritating noise I wished he didn't make.

*

"What's your full name?" He fired, the third consecutive question in a row. I had already learnt that his favourite colour was black or blue, he played the guitar with his left hand on the neck and he had a Black mother but white father.

I answered with a small smile, glad to see him so talkative. "Sloan Anne McCain." I responded. "You?"

"I'm just Saul, Saul Hudson." He replied, nodding and swooping the tangling curls up and over his head. He thought for a moment, silent but grinning nonetheless. "How do you wanna die?"

"Having sex." I joked, face straight as a pole. Then I shook my head, laughing lightly and responding with truth held in my words. "I don't care, really. When I go, I go." I shrugged, taking a gulp of the refreshing, clear, water beside me. "How about you, Hudsie?"

"I'm not too sure. But having sex sounds like a fucking rad way to go." He laughed. "Maybe I'll end up overdosing or having alcohol poisoning from that fucking drink that tastes so mother-fucking good I can't get enough of it."

"Why do you drink so much, Slash?"

"Bit of fun, man." He said. "And I also have found that I can't function around certain people without being drunk." I presumed that was the issue, and not that he only wanted some fun. In order to have fun, I guessed one would normally drink at the weekends. Not every day, day in or day out. "Do you get on with your parents?"

"No." I responded, shaking my head. "They're fucking assholes and they can kiss my ass if they think they've got any significance in my life." I scoffed.

"Amen." Slash breathed, amused. "Siblings?"

"No, not exactly." I answered, shaking my head. "How about you?"

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused. "Not exactly?"

"Long story." I admitted, shrugging.

"We've got time to kill." He said, leaning against the counter gently. The glass of water raised to his lips as he took a long sip. "If you want to, at least."

"When'd you first have sex?" I changed, slight sexual undertone to my words. I did not want to talk about my sister; at least, not tonight.

"Twelve."

"Fourteen." I compared.

"Ever fucked someone you only just met but know quite a lot about?" His question was breathless, eyes directed toward my lips as I slowly began to allow the realisation to step in.

I looked over at him with a slight smirk. "There's always a first time for everything, right?"