You Could Be Mine ➷ Slaxl

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ Tᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ

The crowd cheers wildly as I grind my hips against Slash, watching as his cheeks flushed red beneath his mane of wild curls. I could barely focus on my vocals as he glares at me with such intensity and avidity, perhaps contemplating how he was going to get through the show with my suggestive behavior.

I lean into him, bringing my mouth to his ear as I hover the mic over his lips, biting down on his earlobe as he sings the lyrics for me.

I could feel eyes burning into my back, and as I turn my head, I'm confronted with the look of pure wickedness flashing across Matt's face. He glances at Slash and strikes me a quick wink before reverting his attention back to the intense drum line.

My friction against Slash grows stronger, and suddenly, he's unable to voice the lyrics. Breathless, he pulls away and shoves his lips onto mine, earning an array of applauds and cheers from the hyped crowd. I bite at his lip, yet before he could acquire anything else from my greedy action, I retreat from his captivating presence and dance my way over to the left of the stage.

From behind the curtains, the sight of bright golden hair and the most endearing, recognizable smile caught my attention. Steven.

Joyously, he jumped up and down, cheering us on from the wings whilst mainly keeping his gaze fixated on Duff. I could tell the bassist was relinquishing the adrenaline granted to him by the sight of his swain just behind him, as he began to play even more energetically, quickly stepping into the chorus with me as I pulled my rather obscure serpentine.

Right as the show ended, Duff bounded backstage, quickly capturing Steven in a long, passionate kiss—one he had been desiring since we set out on our first tour with only three members of the original lineup.

"Take that to the dressing room," I order, wavering my hand in their direction whilst scrunching my nose up in comical disgust. Duff pulls away from Steven, grinning with his swollen lips as the drummer buried his cherry-red face into his chest.

"As if you weren't practically fucking Slash on stage!" The bassist teased back, and I quickly ducked my head sheepishly as heat rushed to my cheeks faster than it took for Duff and Steven to dash towards the dressing room.

"He's not wrong, darlin'.." Frizzed hair tickles my neck as Slash presses his chest to my back, wrapping his arms dangerously low around my waist, and swaying me left and right gently. "Although.. it made for quite the show."

I could feel him smirking into my skin as he nibbles around my shoulder, slowly gliding his tongue along my neck before pressing an unexpected docile kiss to my cheek.

Just as I leaned back into him, the dressing room door flew open and a light cough erupted from behind us.

I turned my head, furrowing my brows as I made out our tour manager's hesitant expression. He awkwardly fiddled with the mic attracted to his headphones, and glanced at Slash skeptically.

"There's someone who'd like to see you.. Axl. Slash, there's uh.. an issue with your guitar tech— so follow me!" The tour manager quickly directed Slash to follow him backstage, and I watched as the guitarist offered me an apologetic frown before scampering away.

Just as they turned the corridor, a lanky man stepped in from the back door, his lips pursed into a tight frown and the bags beneath his eyes transparent from where I stood. Long strands of dark hair bounced lightly as the AC fanned over him. Shyly, he tucked his hair behind his ears and looked up at me, his hazel eyes glistening brilliantly beneath the effulgent lighting.