The performances at the VMA’s were alright. No big incident. Perhaps something not suitable for young children, like Flea, the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ bassist, pretending to masturbate, but other than that, things ran smoothly.
That is, until Nirvana took the stage.
The MTV execs nearly fainted when Kurt Cobain played what sounded like the starting chords of “Rape Me”. However, the song immediately shifted over to “Lithium”. That intro had been Kurt’s idea. It was just to show the execs nobody messed with Kurt Cobain.
And Nirvana let themselves go. Their noise filled the Pauley Pavilion entirely, joined by the people who were definitely enjoying the show. And Axl, now sitting down at his place besides Stephanie, was enjoying it too. The band had so much force… that was one of the reasons he had wanted Nirvana to open up for them, besides Kurt’s looks. Guns n’ Roses and Nirvana together, the guitars tuned up, the bass swung low, unadulterated metal meets grunge… that would be the fucking bomb. The place would fall apart at the seams.
Meanwhile, Nirvana’s song was finishing, and their noise was reaching the limit. That was when Krist noticed he wasn’t hearing himself. He moved slowly towards his amp, and noticed it had exploded. They were so loud, they blew their speakers! He thought about saying this joke out loud, but then decided it was too metal.
Kurt, under the sound of his “I like you, I’m not gonna crack” and his guitar hadn’t noticed anything, so concentrated he was in his playing. Dave was the same. Krist was just standing there, unable to play, not knowing what to do, when a crazy idea just flashed across his brain. Or maybe it was just the adrenaline rush that made them thrash their instruments every night.
So, without prior warning, Krist threw his bass upwards, hoping to catch it in a quick maneuver when it came down.
Of course, Krist didn’t expect something going wrong with his little plan… until the bass landed directly on his nose. FUCK! The bassist went away, to a corner of the stage, holding his face. Shit-fuck-fuck, I think my nose is broken. Kurt, meanwhile, had reached the final chorus, and turned towards his bassist. And there he saw Krist, staggering across the stage, holding his face. What the fuck? Is he clowning or what? Obviously, Kurt hadn’t seen a thing, so, he did the first thing that crossed his mind and edged Krist away, kicking him on the ass. Then, he went to the ritual instrument thrashing.
Axl, on his seat, turned to face his band. The guys were giggling at the show the grunge band was giving them. Stephanie looked surprised.
“I think that guy just fucked up his face,” she told Axl. Oh, well, he would check that out later. Maybe he could try to talk to Kurt again.
Meanwhile, Nirvana’s show wasn’t over yet. The guitar was smashed against the amps, the drums went out flying… and, suddenly, Dave Grohl walked over to the microphone.
“Hi, Axl! Where’s Axl?”
Axl sat frozen on his chair. Stephanie grasped his arm, as if afraid he might climb up the stage and punch Dave. The rest of the band just stopped laughing and looked at their singer.
But nothing happened. The instruments were all broken and Nirvana left the stage with a standing ovation. And Axl, to the surprise of his band, clapped too.
“What?” he yelled, when he saw everyone’s face. “That thing the drummer did was just a stupid joke!”
After the show, the execs, obviously, called a doctor to check out Krist’s nose. However, no blood was coming out. The bassist’s nose ached at the touch, but it seemed complete.
“Can you walk, Mr. Novoselic?” the doctor asked.
Krist, though still in pain, got up from the chair he was on, walked around, and turned his head everywhere. His nose seemed to stay put.
“Well then,” the doctor concluded, “if you’re OK, Mr. Novoselic, maybe you three should go back to your seats in the main hall. They’re far more comfortable than the chairs around here, so they could be a good place for you to rest if you feel weak.” Then he added: “But, the moment you start feeling weak, or if your nose starts bleeding, call the execs, and we will see what we can do.”
Krist nodded. His nose still felt in place. Kurt sat next to him.
“If you want, we’ll leave this shithole.”
“Nah,” his bassist answered. “I’m OK. I wanna stay…” He smiled. “We’re still missing the performance by your favorite band.”
Kurt laughed. “You cocksucker. But, oh well, your wish is my command, so we’re staying. Well, I’m going to tell Jake to keep my guitar picks where our instruments are and then we’ll go out again. And, when this is over, I’m gonna stay with you. Gonna take care of ya.”
Krist agreed and thanked him. After all, Kurt was his best friend. So, after patting the bassist’s back and playfully threatened to punch his nose, the grunge star went looking for Jake, the roadie, on the way to the warehouse where their instruments were.
But there was no Jake. Instead, he met his wife.
“Hey, darlin’” the blonde man waved at her.
“Sweetheart,” the woman threw herself in his arms and kissed him, before asking, “how’s Krist?”
“He says he’s OK,” Kurt answered, “but I’m not sure. I’m gonna stay with him after the show in case he needs something.”
Just after he said that, Kurt saw his wife’s eyes change. A frown crossed her pretty mouth. Oh no, not today. Krist was his best friend, and it made him uncomfortable to know that Courtney didn’t like him at all.
“I thought we were going to have a special night today.”
“Courtney…” he started out, “you know I love you. But Krist is my best friend. I have already promised him I’d take care of him. Tomorrow I’ll make it up to you. We will stay in bed like fucking rabbits.”
“I don’t want tomorrow!” the woman yelled. “I want now!” There she was, making a tantrum, as if she had been a spoiled child.
“Courtney…” Kurt began again, but his wife was not willing to listen anymore. She walked away, while still yelling.
“Don’t say anything! Go away! Stay with your motherfucking best friend! But…” She turned around and added: “If you change your mind, I won’t be around. And don’t go looking for me. I’ll go out and see what I fucking can get.” And she disappeared.
Kurt looked down. He didn’t feel like going to Krist anymore. The argument had hurt him. His mind traveled to a special guitar case, where he kept a needle, and a spoon…
“Mr. Cobain!” he heard Jake’s familiar voice. “I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting. I was at the men’s room… what do you need?”
“What… oh, Jake. You’re here.”
Jake noticed the familiar sad look on Kurt’s eyes and said nothing.
“Well… Jake… keep this picks here, will ya? And, please, can I have the key? I’ll stay here a little while after the show.”
Jake knew very well what Mr. Cobain did whenever he wanted to stay alone with the instruments. He knew he would have to stay late, in order to drag him out of the room. Yet, he didn’t have the heart not to give him the key, even if it meant he would have to go get the spare key later, and cope with Kurt’s terrible state. Nirvana’s lead singer was a sad man, and nobody knew what demons dwelt inside his fragile heart.
Meanwhile, Kurt noticed an open door. He went through it and saw it was where Guns n’ Roses kept their instruments. He saw, together with the basses, drums, and multiple guitars, two pianos. He walked over to them. One of them was white, and more luxurious than the other, that was black. Kurt knew Axl Rose played the piano. Surely that was his instrument, that motherfucker.
Kurt made sure nobody was around, but he saw Krist coming towards him.
“Hey, you’re here.”
The blonde man started a little. He hoped his friend hadn’t heard the argument.
“Just came looking for ya. Wondering if you were ever coming out. What are you doing here? This is Guns n’ Roses’ warehouse.”
Kurt smiled. He had just thought about something.
“Come here, Krist.”
Krist came closer, and saw Nirvana’s singer spit on the keys of the white piano.
“Let’s see Mr. Rose handle his butterfingers.”
The grungers laughed and left the room. Little did Kurt know he had spat on Mr. Elton John’s piano.
That’s why the blonde opened his blue eyes wide when he saw who was playing the white piano. He was so surprised, he could barely speak even after Guns n’ Roses’ performance, the last one of the night, was over. Oh no, that had never been his intention. Not on Elton John’s piano.
Yet, even if that had been his intention, it just hadn’t been noticeable. In fact, as the band went backstage, Axl couldn’t help smiling. Everything had been perfect. The orchestra, the girls who screamed at his beautiful face and his red jacket and sexy tight jeans. His band, too. Slash had missed some notes, but he had put on a show, standing on both pianos. And, after all, didn’t guitar solos become more attractive because of those mistakes?
But the best of it all had been Elton John. He had played as if he had belonged to the band all his life. Axl had been so fascinated, he would smile at the pianist, at the camera, at the audience, even at the places where Nirvana was sitting. The hard work he forced his band to do had paid off.
Onstage, Dana Carvey, the host, said goodbye to the TV audience and people started leaving. The bands started going out as well. Krist was getting up from his seat when he felt an itch on his nose. He scratched it… and blood gushed out.
“Kurt! Dave!” he called out.
Kurt aided his friend while Dave ran, looking for execs, roadies, whoever could help.
However, it wasn’t long before the doctor and a male nurse reached Nirvana’s members. They ran over to the bassist, took him backstage, and exited him through a back door, where an ambulance was waiting for them already.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Cobain,” they assured Kurt, who was running up behind them, “your bassist will be OK. Your drummer is already inside the ambulance. We will take him to the hospital. Ask for the address and you can come to visit him whenever you want to.”
With those words, the doctor closed the doors of the ambulance and sped off, leaving Kurt alone. After listening to that, Kurt walked again to the main hall of the Pauley Pavilion. He wanted to find Courtney. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, and to confirm their special night. Yet, his wife had kept her word and was nowhere to be seen.
Kurt felt the pain he had felt at the argument rush back inside himself. He placed his hand into the pocket of his jeans, and his fingers touched the key of the warehouse. His accomplice.
Thinking nobody had seen him, Nirvana’s lead singer went backstage.
But somebody had seen him.
Guns n’ Roses had been so happy with the performance, they had decided to go out and celebrate. Hell yeah! They deserved it!
Yet, Axl’s big night was not over. He was still hopeful about finding Kurt. However, he knew that if he refused to go the bar with the guys, they would want to know why, or, simply, they wouldn’t let him stay. He had to find a way to escape.
Almost unexpectedly, the singer found an answer in Stephanie. The supermodel was going around the Pavilion, giving autographs to fans, or even asking for pictures herself. She was walking all around, talking to the Peppers, to Def Leppard, and looking really happy.
So, Axl had an excuse when Duff came over and tapped his shoulder.
“Hey, Axl! Are you ready to party?”
Axl patted the bassist back, and answered:
“Yeah! But you guys go on ahead. See, my woman is having a hell of a time here, and I don’t wanna rush her,” he pointed to mobile Stephanie. “So, what do you say if I catch you later at the bar?”
“Well…OK.” Duff smiled and added: “The woman’s in charge, right? Then, we’ll see you there.”
Axl slapped the bassist again and waited till he went out. When his friend was out of sight, and with Stephanie having her picture taken with Def Leppard, he was all set to disappear.
Kurt reached the warehouse where Nirvana had their instruments. He opened it, and closed the door behind him, forgetting to lock it. He didn’t even bother to turn the warehouse light on. The moon, shining through a small window, gave him enough light. He was in no mood to look for the fucking switch. His body shook with anxiety. He needed his fix. But where the fuck was his special guitar case?
The grunge star was so busy looking for his needle and spoon and so glad when he found it that he didn’t notice somebody creeping up behind him, opening the door slightly and closing it even more carefully. So, when he turned around and his pale blue eyes met Axl’s green ones, shining by moonlight, he almost dropped everything he was holding.
“So…” he began, his voice taking a sarcastic tone: “Mr. Axl Rose. What are you doing here? Couldn’t let the night pass you by without kicking my ass?”
“It’s not that…” Axl started out, trying to sound calm. “I only wanted to talk to you.” After saying this, the rocker felt stupid. He had no excuse for walking in here. What could be so urgent? What could they talk about that could justify him following Kurt? Yet, Axl decided to keep his countenance as cool as possible.
“If you wanna talk about your fucking gigs, I don’t wanna hear it. I already said no. So get the fuck outta here,” Kurt announced, swaying his arms around to show he didn’t want the strawberry blonde there.
And, with the aid of a moonbeam that shot through the small window of the warehouse, Axl saw the needle.
The rocker was too fast for the blonde. With one swift movement of his arm, Axl slapped the needle out of Kurt’s hand. The younger man saw his fix fly away, and felt the pain in his hand.
“You crazy fucker! Why did you do that?” Nirvana’s lead singer roared, like in his songs. Yet, Axl didn’t budge. His mind was filled with memories of their first drummer, Steven Adler. Poor bitch would get to the rehearsals so high he couldn’t even play. That fucking addiction was going to kill him. But well, if fucking Steven Adler died, it was going to be his fault. All Guns n’ Roses members had done what they could to stop him and he hadn’t listened, arguing that, if they drank, he could get high. Whatever, Steven. But, if he had the power, Axl was not going to allow Kurt to end up the same.
“Don’t you use that fucking shit,” was all the rocker said.
Kurt looked surprised, but then his face changed to a sarcastic smirk.
“Oh my God. Please.”
The blonde paraded himself all over the dark room, half singing:
“Don’t tell me Mr. Discrimination just became politically correct.”
“It’s not being politically correct,” Axl answered. “I just know what that shit does. We fired our previous drummer from the band because he used it.”
“Oh,” Kurt answered, still smiling sarcastically, “so I see where this is going. You hate black people, gay people, and junkies, huh? And you want to kick their asses, right? Well, you must learn to leave people fucking alone when they want to. Or do you hate people who need their fucking space as well? Or do you just want to be all good to me because you want your Nazi bitch soul up in heaven?”
Axl tried to hold back, but all those insults just got into his head. Not knowing what to do, he grabbed Kurt by the shoulders and pinned him against the warehouse wall. Kurt frowned, a little in pain, but his smirk came back again.
“Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about, Mr. Rose. I like you so much better when you’re politically incorrect.” He breathed in. Axl could feel Kurt’s breath was speeding up. He was probably nervous.
“So, are you going to beat me up, or what?”
Axl doubted at this provocation. In fact, having Kurt so close, and them both alone in a dark room… all the possibilities of the scenario had sent his mind flying. It was almost surreal. It was almost perfect.
Kurt’s head was smashed against the wall again. Yet, it hadn’t been a punch. The grunger thought he was going to receive a headbutt, so he had closed his eyes.
Yet, it hadn’t been exactly a headbutt. Just… almost…
Kurt’s head was against the wall, pinned by Axl’s head. And the strawberry blonde’s lips were planted firmly on his, kissing him. It had been a rough kiss, and Axl was struggling with the grunger’s lips, trying to make him open them. Yet, Nirvana’s singer refused to yield to the man he hated; his lips didn’t budge a bit, not even when Axl, growing desperate, bit them, drawing out blood. Kurt pushed him back.
Axl reacted to the push, and backed away, licking Kurt’s blood away from his lips. Blood from the man he desired. It was nearly heaven. The blonde, in contrast, wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, never taking his eyes away from the rocker. He had been taken by surprise. He certainly didn’t expect a man qualified as “homophobic” to have made that move. In fact, Kurt felt a little afraid now. If Axl was capable of that… well, who knew what would come next. He eyed the strawberry blonde as an animal eyes its predator. Kurt eyed Guns n’ Roses frontman completely, in case he saw something suspicious: some moves that could give him a clue of what would that Axl psycho do now. His green eyes, dilated with lust, offered no safe ground, so Kurt decided to up his guard.
But the rocker had even more surprises in store for him. Kurt almost ran away when he noticed Axl’s erection under his tight jeans. Yet, he couldn’t. He just stood frozen there, as if haunted. The truth was, the shock fixed him still.
“Well, well, well…” he started out again, trying to keep cool, “it looks like Little Axl wants some warmth… where’s the homophobia, huh? Or is your bitch unable to keep you satisfied?”
Now the older man was embarrassed, but he tried to stay calm. The insult towards Stephanie and the pun to his attitude at backstage slipped his mind. His eyes were now fixed on his jeans as well. There was no way to hide his bulge, anyways.
Both musicians stood silent and still for a while, as if trying to figure out what the heck was going on between them. Finally, Kurt spoke.
“So… what do you want? Do you want me to sing ´More than a Feeling’ or something so you feel romantic and in need for a whore and take your friend outta here? Because I’m not singing one of your cheap shit ballads.”
“I’d rather a song by The Raspberries,” Axl answered, not really sure of what he was saying. Yet, that thoughtless petition seemed to strike a note of surprise in Kurt.
“The Raspberries? You?”
“What? Do you think it’s weird I like that band? Because believe me, if we’re talking about strange things, I would never have thought you liked Boston.”
“Oh, c’mon! Even a retard like you could have noticed the chords I used in that fucking song about the deodorant-shit are the same of ‘More than a Feeling’. Maybe that’s why everybody likes that shit so much.”
All this dialogue was said with both men looking at the ground, avoiding the erection, their surroundings, their eyes, the sound of their beating hearts, one beating with excitement, the other nervously. However, they couldn’t keep their gaze low all the time, so they both raised their heads.
That was when Kurt noticed his enemy’s eyes had changed. The green eyes that shone lustily, as if they held nothing but pure instinct, now looked as if they were pleading. All of a sudden, the hunter had become the victim.
The grunger recognized that look. It took him back to his high school days, when he used to get together with the gay kids of his neighborhood, writing “God is gay” on walls, and stuff like that. Straight homophobic kids would hit him and his friends, and they would tell him that surely he was gay as well. But Kurt never betrayed his friends, and the boys would feel really thankful. In fact, many of his friends fell in love with him because of his faithful friendship. And they would look at him with those eyes, those same eyes the Guns n’ Roses’ singer had now. Eyes that asked for love. And Kurt declined. He told them he would remain his friend forever, but that he simply was not into that. Maybe he could accept a kiss, or something, but he would never go further.
And the eyes of his past had come back. On the face of the man he least expected. Suddenly, Kurt was feeling sorry about the rocker. He didn’t hate him anymore. He had always thought Axl belonged to the other side: the one of the bullies. And he had been wrong. His enemy and him had more in common that what he’d thought they had.
Meanwhile, Axl was lost into Kurt’s blue eyes, just as Courtney Love had once been. The moon was shining over them now, making them look even more blue, but also sadder. It was as if that beam shone a light over the frail blonde’s inner demons. The rocker, of course, was fascinated. Those eyes were like a haunted mirror. Those eyes opened a door to his terrible past. If only Kurt knew… he would realize they were so alike… so similar…
He reached out for Kurt’s lips, gently caressing them. Kurt, recognizing his gay friends in that gesture, gave in. The little blood that was still gushing out from the cut was removed gently by Axl’s fingers, and, if there was any left, it was wiped away by the rocker’s lips. This second kiss was very different from the first. It was soft, sweet, tender. One could even call it a loving kiss. The kiss that held the communion their gazes started. Even when Axl stuck his tongue inside Kurt’s mouth, the kiss didn’t become cheap: it just became more passionate.
They separated their lips from each other slowly. Their hearts were beating as if threatening to jump out their chests. And Axl’s crotch started aching from the arousal. Yet, the strawberry blonde kept his eyes fixed on the man in front of him. His eyes that pleaded, begged…
“Please…” was all he breathed.
“What…” Kurt answered, in a low voice as well.
“You know what I want… please…”
“Just like your gigs, I say no,” Kurt retorted, though not as harshly.
“Kurt…” Axl started again, “I’m not going… well… to do it to you…”
“Then?” The delicate, feminine friends he’d had. The rocker looked just like them.
“Kurt…” Axl shivered slightly before saying: “Take me. Fuck me. Love me.”
God, would the surprises never end? Kurt felt ready since the rocker had said “fuck me”. He was so used to his wife saying exactly the same thing before sex, he actually used it as “ready, set, go!”. Yet, Axl didn’t want a simple fuck.
Axl wanted to feel loved by him. Kurt could feel himself conquered. He tried to justify his actions to himself: he was doing it because of his gay friends, because he wanted to show he had beaten one of the most homophobic men ever, because… nevermind. He just couldn’t admit, not even to himself, that he indeed felt attracted to the strawberry blonde.
So, slowly, very slowly, he placed a hand on Axl’s red coat, and let it fall down, revealing a very thin tank top, that could have been nothing. And the other man, who at first looked as if he was about to faint, finally reached out, and started unbuttoning the grunger’s shirt. Kurt wore an underwear shirt, and he removed it himself, letting Axl get rid of his tank top. Shoes were kicked out, hands struggled with jeans… or, better said, Kurt’s hands struggled with Axl’s tight rockstar jeans. Loose grunge jeans went down in a second.
The rocker helped his new lover with his pants, but still his erection wasn’t free. Underneath the denim, the famous white underpants kept it concealed.
“You’re fucking gonna explode,” the grunger laughed.
Instead of answering, Axl put his arms around the grunger’s waist and kissed him again while taking off his underwear. Then, he turned to himself and finally stood there, both stark naked, illuminated only by moonlight.
Axl’s heart doubled its beat when he saw the object of his desire standing in front of him: pale, skinny, moonlight making him look as if he was made out of silver; his shaft between legs that looked like twigs, finally giving in to passion. The rocker’s cock begged for attention… but, it could wait. This sight was just too breathtaking to pass by. This was just like his fantasy…
The strawberry blonde knelt in front of Kurt, who shivered, but now with anticipation. He hadn’t expected Guns n’ Roses singer to be so passive.
Kurt nearly fell when, without any warning, Axl deep-throated him. Oh fuck. Surely the guy had experience. Small gasps came out of the grunger’s mouth, though they became moans of pleasure when Axl grazed his teeth against his sensitive skin. The rocker started letting go of the grunger’s length till he came back to the tip, and started teasing it using only his tongue, and moving it in slow, circular patterns.
“You fucker…” was all Kurt could breathe. He placed his hands on Axl’s head and started pulling the strawberry locks so hard he might have ripped some of them off. But the singer didn’t care, and continued licking at the shaft the blonde offered him. His tongue slid all over till he reached Kurt’s balls, and he licked them too, taking in the salty taste and the warm smell. The grunger didn’t smell like whiskey: he smelled like sweat and damp earth. In spite of his frail looks, there was also something animal about that smell, something that drove Axl crazy…
He stayed there a moment, enjoying every single breath that came into his lungs loaded with Kurt’s essence, till he decided it was time to go back to the blowjob, and deep-throated the grunger again. Kurt was nearly dying with pleasure. Courtney had been around, she knew some tricks, but the way Axl licked and kissed his dick… his wife didn’t do that, certainly. This was different, exciting, and wonderful. The skinny legs coated with soft golden hair gave in, and Kurt almost collapsed on Axl, moaning when he came, all his seed spilling into the singer’s throat.
The strawberry blonde moved aside to let Kurt slide down the wall to the floor. His cock, now desperate, started to throb, and the grunger eyed it with a mixture of curiosity and new desire.
“Hey… let me help you…” the blonde started, stretching a hand towards the rocker’s shaft, who, though surprised at first, finally half smiled and sat near Kurt.
“It works like… if I was with myself, right?”
“Just go ahead,” Axl answered. It didn’t matter if Kurt knew how to do it or didn’t. The strawberry blonde knew he would melt like butter to this man’s touch.
And it happened. The feeling of Kurt’s guitar-calloused fingers against his cock sent a feeling of electricity through Axl’s spine and to his brain. He was so turned on, he was almost over the edge, and Kurt’s pumping just did the work. At first, the blonde was a little uncertain, but when he saw in the singer’s face that he was on the brink of dying with pleasure, he gained some confidence and started pumping faster, as if it had been his own dick.
Finally, Axl exploded, filling Kurt’s hand, both their naked bodies, and even some locks of his hair with cum. He let out a shout like the ones when he was singing.
“Hate your fucking voice,” Kurt pointed out after hearing that, half-laughing.
“You may hate my fucking voice but now I know you love my fucking mouth,” Axl tainted the grunger after a kiss, and laid down on the floor, on his stomach, spreading his legs apart.
“Is this OK for you?” he turned around to face the younger man.
“Is it time?” Kurt now looked a little confused.
“Of course it is,” Axl got up again and kissed Kurt. “I’m dying to feel you inside.”
“And do I go in… just like that? Like it was a pussy?” Kurt had heard descriptions from his gay friends, and he knew some things, but this was for real, and he felt somewhat uneasy.
“Ok… let me help you.”
After he said this, the singer spat on his hand, and moved it towards Kurt’s half-hard shaft, which was up again in no time, after receiving a massage from the Guns n’ Roses frontman’s expert hands. Now Kurt was lubricated, and ready to go, so Axl placed himself on top of his stomach again.
“There you are. Now, just go.”
“If you say it, you crazy bitch…”
Kurt placed himself between the rocker’s legs, and, finally, did as he was told, burying his cock inside Axl’s tightness. It wasn’t so different from a pussy, and the strawberry blonde was not very tight, yet, the warmth and contractions of the muscle teased Kurt as well. This was new, and very, very hot.
Axl wiggled under the skinny blonde. Motherfucking God, he was getting one step closer to heaven with every millimeter Kurt advanced into him… and he screamed again when the grunger hit the prostate. He was in heaven now.
“What now?” Kurt whispered.
“Just… do… what you do to your wife…” Axl gasped.
Yet… Kurt didn’t do that, exactly. Instead, he laid on his side, holding Axl together with him. When they were both facing the same direction, he started kissing the rocker: his back, his neck… he drowned into the perfume of his sweaty hair, ran his hand through his chest, his pierced nipple, his stomach, and his thighs. Fluttering kisses rained on Axl’s cheeks, while the blonde slowly pushed himself in and out of him.
Axl couldn’t believe it. This was better than any fantasy. One of his hands flew backwards and tangled itself between Kurt’s legs, while the other pumped his dick, which was hard again. Nirvana’s leader was so slow, so tender, so sweet. The nibbles on his neck and earlobe were driving him insane. If this wasn’t love, and it was just sex… well, it could certainly be compared to his nights with Slash. Fucking hell, this was even better than being with Slash!
Eventually, passion got the best of them. Kurt started pounding against Axl, in and out, in and out, hitting his prostate and making the rocker scream louder than onstage. Hands ran through their sweat-covered bodies, caressing, scratching, pinching their skins. The climax was getting closer and closer…
Finally, they both came. Axl on his already dirty hand, Kurt inside him. They stayed there, gasping for breath.
After some minutes, Kurt pulled out from Axl. When he felt himself empty, the rocker turned around and faced the unnaturally beautiful man beside him. The moon still shone on both of them, making the sweat drops and the cum drops look as if they had been decorated with tiny diamonds.
The rocker caressed the blonde locks of Nirvana’s singer, and gently kissed him. Kurt kissed back, but suddenly turned around, got up, and started looking for his clothing.
Axl sat up reluctantly.
“What’s the matter?”
“Look, Axl…” Kurt started, his voice now filled with a gentleness it hadn’t had at the beginning of the night, “I think it’s time you left.”
The rocker didn’t move. The blonde turned around to face him, his blue eyes serious.
“I think you know what we just had was a one-night-stand.”
“Yeah,” the strawberry blonde half-smiled.
“Then…” Kurt sighed, “I think it’s better to finish it. Ok?”
Axl got up.
“You didn’t like it? I’ll accept it if you tell me you didn’t like it.”
Kurt finished putting on his jeans and turned around.
“I’m gonna tell you something, Rose. In an interview I gave to some guy named Michael Azerrad, I told him I liked something about you.”
“What was that?” Axl couldn’t imagine Kurt liking something about him before this night.
“I told him that what I liked about you was that, when you fucked up something, you tried to fix it, whereas I just dwelt on what I fucked up and made it worse.”
Axl picked up his clothes and walked over to the man that had loved him. He felt like kissing him again, but instead he just laid his hand on the grunger’s shoulder.
“C’mon. I don’t think it is so.”
“But it is so,” Kurt answered, putting on his underwear shirt. “So, before I fuck something up, please leave.”
Axl decided to remain silent. He got dressed, and he went to the door, but turned back before going out.
“No,” the blonde whispered. “Thank you. You were the one who fixed your fucked up public image.”
The Guns n’ Roses singer smiled and left the room. After he saw Axl had left, Kurt laid his head against the wall, in a gesture of pure confusion. What had he done? Fucked up… again?
He was too proud to admit that this had been the best night of sex in his life. He was too proud to admit to himself Axl had been the ideal partner his wife had never been.
The moon shone on his needle. Miraculously, it was intact. Kurt pulled one of his sleeves up and started his ritual. He had fucked things up again. He just couldn’t admit to himself he had actually not had sex, but made love to Axl Rose in a way he had never made it with Courtney Love.