My Random Guns N' Roses One-shots

Izzy x Duff pt. 2 (this is pure smut)

The dark blue tiles of the hotel bathroom floor stared back at him mockingly. Duff stared back, not really seeing them. They were probably laughing at him for his current freak-out in the corner of the bathroom. Tiles probably didn't have to deal with sexuality the way humans did. They just got to sit contentedly in their cement on the floor. The only problems they would ever have to deal with were water and maybe the occasional person who missed the toilet. They never had to deal with things like deciding whether or not they were going to let someone touch them in a way that they totally wanted to be touched, but were still terrified about. In a way, the tiles were lucky. It was probably time to get out of the bathroom before Izzy thought he was taking a really big shit or something. Oh fuck, what if he shit on Izzy? That would be awful. Maybe he'd just sit here with the tiles for a little while longer.

"Duff?" Oh shit-don't think about shit- Izzy was at the door. Fuck. Duff entertained the idea of being sucked down the sink drain, never to be seen again. "You okay in there?" Fuck, Izzy was still there. "Hey, if you don't want to do this, you can just say and I'll leave." But he did want to do this, that was the problem. "Okay, I'm gonna come back later?" There was a rustling outside the door. No no no no, he didn't want Izzy to leave. He got up from his corner where he had been sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs for the last minute and a half.

When Duff emerged from the bathroom into the larger part of the hotel suite, Izzy was leaning against the wall next to the bed smoking, barefoot with his leather jacket slung over his shoulders. He looked up at the blond and smirked, dark eyes raking up Duff to meet worried eyes with his dark ones. He stubbed out his cigarette against the side of the ashtray next to him on the nightstand, watching Duff with lust mixed with curiosity.

The bassist looked back awkwardly. He wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do now. His previous sexual experiences had involved several shots of liquid courage and a blushing groupie. He knew what to do in those situations. But he had just exited a bathroom, not a nightclub, and Izzy was definitely not a blushing groupie.

"Thought maybe you had fallen in." Izzy sauntered towards the blond, the exact opposite of Duff, the picture of confidence. The leather jacket fell lazily from his shoulders, hitting the side of the nightstand, which rocked and caused a bottle of something Duff hadn't noticed before to fall over. From where he was standing, it looked like a container of lotion. That probably wasn't what it was, but now Izzy was in front of him, arms a comfortable weight around his shoulders, hands tangled in the blond hair at the base of his neck, lips planting open-mouthed kisses in a path down his neck, just beneath his right ear. Duff felt heat coil in a pit beneath his stomach, letting his own hands travel up the dark-haired man's back, running them under the loose, white-cotton shirt. Izzy's hand's released his neck and traveled down to the bottom hem of his own shirt, bunching the gray fabric between his fingers and palms. "You're cool with how this is going right?"

Izzy's breath was hot against his ear, and it took Duff a little while to gather his thoughts back together. Izzy was asking if he wanted to be fucked. Questions like this one needed answers. Fuck, now he was overthinking things. He knew the answer to this question, he just needed to say it. "Yeah."

Once his consent was given, Izzy smiled, pulling his shirt up and over his head, rubbing his back as Duff shivered at the sudden onslaught of cold air. Izzy's shirt was next, white fabric tossed into an inconsequential corner of the room. The guitarist began walking back towards the bed, turning them around halfway so that it was Duff's legs that ended up hitting the edge of the mattress. He felt strong hands push him back onto the bed then drift down to rest at the waistband of his jeans. Suddenly reminded of what they were about to do, Duff grabbed at the thin wrists, scrambling back into the pillows.

"Hey." Duff felt the calloused fingertips of Izzy's hand grasp his chin forcing him to meet the dark-eyed stare. "What's up, Blondie?"

Heat rose in his face, staining Duff's cheeks the color of a glass filled with Malbec wine. He glanced away, suddenly very interested in anything that wasn't Izzy's face. "Ummm... I don't know. Just umm... go slow I guess?"