It was the smell that woke him up. If it hadn’t been for the smell, he might have slept for another hour. Certain “people” might have left before then. And none of what happened…would have happened.
Instead, he woke up at seven a.m. with the smell of cigarette smoke hanging sharply in the air. Kurt groaned and rolled over in the hotel bed, burying his face in the pillow. He didn’t want to wake up, not yet, not after staying ou t till three in the morning. Why the hell was he awake?
The damn smoke. Where was it coming from?
The bed shifted, but he wasn’t moving. Oh, damn. The last thing he wanted to deal with was someone he couldn’t even remember going to bed with.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
His eyes opened. That voice…was wrong. Just wrong. It was too deep. He sat up slowly, turning to the other side of the bed. But when he saw who was leaning against the headboard, a half-smoked cigarette in their hand, his mouth fell open and he stared.
“Shut your mouth,” Axl said calmly, puffing on his smoke. “Unless you’re making an offer.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” Kurt demanded, sitting up, looking quickly around. It was his bed, wasn’t it? His room?
“Planning a world invasion.” He glanced at Kurt, eyes cool and distant. “What the fuck do you think? I’m waking up, same as you.”
“Here?” He was halfway standing before he realized he wasn’t wearing anything under the blankets. He slid back into bed, keeping the blankets high around his waist. Just why the fuck was he naked? And more importantly, why was Axl naked? In his bed? His eyes raked quickly over the strawberry-blond, over the pale chest and tattooed arms, up to the androgynous face, the cutting eyes that still watched him. Both of them naked and in bed…together. He swallowed.
One corner of Axl’s mouth curved up in a cruel smile. “Are you getting your first clue?”
“Oh fuck.”
“That we did.” Axl looked away, checking the digital clock on the bedside table. “I figured you’d be an early-riser. In more than one way.”
Kurt paled. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Aw, don’t you want to know what happened?”
“No. Get out.”
“In a minute.” He took the cigarette between two fingers and held it away, breathing normally, while he gazed out across the room, over the bags that Kurt hadn’t bothered to unpack. “You know, I don’t understand your music,” he said conversationally. “Every song sounds the same to me.”
Kurt glimpsed his jeans hooked over a chair and reached for them, trying to get them without relinquishing the nketnkets. “Yeah,” he grunted, “and you sing off-key. Whatever. Just get the fuck out of my room.”
Axl smiled again, and tapped his cigarette so that the ashes fell on the bed. “So fucking touchy.”
“Look—” He slid the jeans under the blankets and tugged them on. “I don’t know how you got here, and I don’t care. Just get out, and let’s not make something out of it.”
Axl shrugged. “Sure.” He swung his legs around the side of the bed and stood up, bare-assed and unconcerned about it. “By the way,” he said, facing the other way while he pulled on a pair of red nylon shorts. “How’s your ass?”
Kurt froze. His—? Oh, fuck. It hurt. Why hadn’t he noticed before? But it hurt. Not badly, but an ache that was there all the same. His breath caught in his throat. “You fucking pervert.”
Axl laughed. “I thought you were supposed to be so tolerant.”
“And I thought you were supposed to hate fags.”
Another shrug, while he inspected his ripped shirt. It looked like it had been ripped right down the center. In a gesture of impatience maybe? Kurt scrubbed a hand over his forehead.
“You seen my shoes?”
“No,” he said shortly.
“Can’t leave without my shoes.”
“What do they look like?”
“Don’t remember which ones I wore.” Axl moved up close behind him, not touching, just standing there, and Kurt could smell smoke again. “Kind of like how you don’t remember last night. Or do you?”
No, he couldn’t remember, and why the hell not? He closed his eyes briefly. “Can you just take a pair of mine?”
“Prob’ly wouldn’t fit.”
Kurt’s eyes sprang open when a hand slapped lightly against his ass. “What the fuck?”
“You got a nice ass,” Axl commented, bending over to pull one black boot out from under the bed. Kurt found himself watching Axl’s own ass as he bent, and the line of skin revealed between his shorts and shirt. Axl wouldn’t have really… would he? It was just a joke?
Axl straightened. “I like your mouth better though.” He stuffed his foot into the shoe, and started looking around for the other one.
“Asshole.”
He paused, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom. “I didn’t fucking rape you, you know. Didn’t take advantage of you, either. You wanted me.”
“The fuck.”
“I told you in the bar what I wanted, and you said okay.”
“Just like that? No fucking way.” He thought he might get sick, but he couldn’t vomit with Axl watching.
“You were sitting in the corner, half-drunk already, remember?”
That part he remembered. It was everything after that, that was drawing a blank.
“I sat down with you. We fought for a couple of minutes. Then I said I wanted to fuck you.”
“Fucking fag.”
“You said okay, we came back here, we got naked, we got—”
“Can you stop fucking talking?” Kurt ground out. And God damn it, he got the distinct feeling, looking at Axl, that the asshole was fucking playing with him now, for all of that cold gaze.
“Look, we had sex. Get over it.”
“Get out, and I’ll think about it.”
“Still need my other shoe.”
“Fuck.” He saw it under the tattered rag that must once have been his shirt. The one he’d been wearing last night. He grabbed the shoe and tossed it at Axl, who caught it easily. Kurt wished it would have hit him in the forehead.
The Gunner slid the second shoe on, but still he stood there.
“Are you going?”
“Yeah, in a second.” He replaced the cigarette between his lips, and ran his fingers through his hair, looking around for something to secure it back with.
His bandana was half-under Kurt’s pillow. He balled it up and threw it. Again, Axl caught it, and wrapped it around his head, tying it in the back under his hair. “Okay, guess I’ll see you around.”
“If I ever fucking see you again, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Axl raised an eyebrow, but suddenly, he didn’t look amused anymore. “Lucky for you I’m in a good mood this morning. Must’ve be from fucking your sweet ass all night.”
“Jesus! Will you get the fuck out already?”
“Yeah, yeah.” But he was moving in the opposite direction of out, was coming back toward Kurt.
“What are you doing?” Kurt backed up until the backs of his knees were against the bed. Still Axl came. “Get the fuck away.” He tried to push him back as he came too close, but Axl evaded his push, pressing up close against his chest, hands locking on Kurt’s shoulders as he forced him back. Kurt cursed as his knees gave out, and he fell back onto the bed. Axl climbed onto him, straddling his hips and leaned down so that their mouths were close.
And suddenly, a memory from last night flashed into Kurt’s mind: He lay flat on the bed, with Axl over him, and Axl’s hands were everywhere, Axl’s mouth was everywhere, his hot breath rushing over Kurt’s skin, and Kurt was arching into him, groaning.
“You know this isn’t over,” Axl said now, and his hands gripped Kurt’s shoulder so hard they hurt. “You said yes last night, and now it’s not over till I say it is.”
You couldn’t fight with Axl; he knew that. He could always out-yell you, out-bitch you, out-scream you. You just had to take whatever he threw at you. he lay there, not moving, just staring up at him.
Then Axl was bending down further, and there was only time for a quick “Axl, fuck—”, before their mouths were together, Axl’s lips surprisingly gentle over his. A tongue slipped into his mouth, but before he could think to bite down on it, it was gone again, and Axl was standing up, walking away.
“See you later, Kurt,” he tossed over his shoulder, before he slammed the door.
He was gone then, and there was nothing for Kurt to do but stare, and with his bare foot, stomp out the cigarette Axl had left burning on his carpet.