Gems N' Roses

Title: Gems 'N Roses
Author/Pseudonym: ScrewTheDaisies
Rating: NC-17
Archive: The Art of Slash (www.theartofslash.com)
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, which means that, while the characters may be based on real people, the story itself is completely untrue. The story was written for the entertainment of the author; no impeachment of or malice toward the people mentioned herein was intended.
Fandom: GNR/Aerosmith
Pairing: Slash/Joe Perry
Summary: While on tour in 1988, Joe finds he can't resist the lips of one of the members of Aerosmith's supporting band. .
Warning: bondage


*******

Slash was stoned, probably, judging from the look in his eye and the way he didn't quite seem to be keeping up with the conversion. This was good. Joe put his hand in the pocket of his denim jacket and closed his fingers over the cool cylinder he'd bought at an Osco Drug almost two weeks earlier.

He hadn't planned on doing this on Valentine's Day; it's just the way the opportunity--not to mention his courage--had worked out.

Grinning, Slash hiked his bottle of beer to his lips and took a long pull.

Now or never, Joe told himself. Now or never.

Slash lowered the bottle.

Joe took it, set it on the end table behind him.

They sat on the couch in Joe's hotel suite, the room dim because the curtains were drawn--it was early fucking afternoon for Christ's sake--and feeling more familiar than foreign, as hotel accommodations tended to do after you'd spent a number of years living out of them.

On three previous occasions, Joe had tried--or been about to try--to get Slash into his rooms, but when it came down to it, each time, he'd choked. Today, though, Slash showed up at his door. No explanation, no apparent purpose. He'd just strolled in, dropped on the couch, and twisted the cap off the beer he'd brought with him with nothing more than a "What's up, Joe?"

Joe reached into his jacket pocket again, closed the tube in his fist, and took a deep breath. Now or never. Do or die, or if not die then at least fucking forget the whole idea and get on with your life.

"Hold still," he said, catching Slash's chin in one hand.

Slash's eyebrows drew together. His tone, when he spoke, wasn't upset or accusatory. Just kind of curious. "What are you doing?"

And he didn't move away.

Joe, caught short a hand, had to shove the top of the tube between his thumb and Slash's jaw so that he could pull the cap off. He let the cap fall onto the couch between them somewhere. Then he put the cylinder back under his thumb and twisted its bottom to bring up the lipstick.

Gems 'N Roses, from Maybelline.

The name had had a large part in the choice to buy this particular shade, but he wouldn't have picked it if the color--a dark, exotic purple--didn't also suit Slash.

"Shhh," Joe said. "Hold still."

Carefully, Joe applied the color to Slash's lips. It wasn't the first time he'd done this sort of thing so he was comfortable with it in that sense, but it was the first time he'd done it to Slash, and he wasn't sure how accustomed Slash was to having someone do it to him. This made him work more slowly than he might have. That was all right, though. He couldn't say he minded taking his time with those lips. With each stroke of the lipstick--he wasn't applying it back and forth but instead in short strokes toward himself--Slash's bottom lip pulled out in a pout and then, at the end of each stroke, rose back up.

Joe's cock stirred on his thigh. He shifted to give it room, then continued, unconsciously softening his own mouth as he worked on Slash's.

As Joe continued to work, taking his time, moving to the top lip now, the perplexed expression on Slash's face deepened. But he didn't move away.

After a minute, Joe sat back and felt around on the couch for the lipstick cap.

"You're fucking nuts," Slash said, shaking his head. He started to reach for his beer.

Joe caught his arm. "Wait."

"What now?"

"You'll smear it off."

"Jesus fucking--"

"Here," Joe said. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the coffee table, dumped one out, lit it, then turned it and held it toward Slash. "Try this instead."

"What? You think it's not gonna smear off on that?" But he took it.

"Yeah, but it's different." Different because he'd _see_ the smear on a cigarette filter. On the neck of the brown beer bottle, it would all but disappear.

Slash stuck the cigarette between his thick, purple lips.

Joe liked the purple. Purple and some reds were all right. Coral, pink, brown, anything with "ice" in its name: those colors didn't do it for him. There was something about a deep purple or a red, something...primal. They were the colors of life, of blood, of organs. Of heat and passion.

"So what's up with the fucking lipstick?" Slash asked, waving away a cloud of smoke.

"Huh?" Delaying the inevitable. How did one explain? He hadn't had to with Steven, but then they'd been out of their heads and how fucking young when Joe had swiped lipstick--Red Red; yes, he remembered the shade--from some groupie's beaded handbag and, laughing their asses off, had ended up covered in the stuff.

"The lipstick." Slash took another deep drag.

"I'm fucking nuts. Isn't that what you just said?"

Slash released the smoke from his lungs. "Fuck. You are fucking nuts." Another drag. "Motherfucking nuts. And I thought Steven was gonna be the weird one."

Joe plucked the cigarette from Slash's fingers, flicked an ash in the tray on the coffee table, and took a pull off it himself, his lips against the Gems 'N Roses purple that Slash's big lips had left behind. Then he said, "Go like this." He pulled his upper lip back to show his front teeth.

Slash mimicked him, exaggerating it into a horse face.

Joe sat forward and caught Slash by the back of his head with the hand that held the cigarette. With the pad of his thumb, he rubbed a lipstick smear off Slash's front teeth.

"Okay," he said, sitting back, taking another drag.

"Can I have my beer yet?"

Joe shook his head. Then he lifted his chin toward Slash and said, "Lick your lips."

"What?"

"Lick your lips." Another flick, another drag. More smoke filling the dim room, turning the air blue.

A grin split Slash's face. "You are fucking nuts."

"So go on."

"Why the fuck would I--"

Another drag. "You can drink your beer after you do it."

"I can drink my fucking beer any time I want."

But he didn't. Instead, he grabbed the cigarette from Joe's hand and shoved it between his lips. "Lick my fucking lips," he said around it. Then, pulling it out, holding the air in his lungs, he said, "You want to see me lick my fucking lips?"

"Sure."

"Right." He let the smoke out. "How's this?" His tongue came out and lapped his upper lip like a dog's.

"Fuck. I didn't mean try to scrape the lipstick off with your fucking tongue, asshole. Use a little finesse."

Slash chuckled around the cigarette. "A little fucking finesse." He took a last drag, stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, and then said, "How's this?"

Something hot and wet and heavy rolled over in Joe's groin when the tip of Slash's red tongue came out and traced slowly--achingly fucking slowly--along his upper lip, from corner to corner. Joe took a deep breath through his wide-open mouth, the air dry and cool along his tongue. Motherfucker.

"Gimme my fucking beer."

Joe reached behind him, nearly knocked it over, caught it, though, and handed it over to Slash.

"Fucking wacko," Slash said before gulping down half the beer.

Joe watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

Then, with a satisfied expulsion of air, Slash lowered the bottle and dragged his forearm across his mouth.

"You fuckhead," Joe said.

"What? I mess up your artwork?" Slash was looking at his forearm where the answer to his question was obvious in the form of a long purple smudge. Slash rubbed at it with the heel of his hand.

"Fuck. Let me see." Joe sat forward again and reached for Slash's chin. All that was left was a vaguely noticeable stain of color. The fullness and shininess was gone. He let go of Slash's chin abruptly. "Finish your beer."

"Just what I was fucking planning on," Slash said before tipping the bottle up once more. This time, he drained it, then looked at it, then tipped it up to make sure it was drained. Finally, he set it on down hard on the coffee table. "Done."

Joe uncapped the lipstick.

"Aw, fuck," Slash said. "Why don't you take a fucking picture this time?"

Joe didn't answer. He'd caught Slash's jaw again and, poking his tongue out the corner of his mouth, began recovering his masterpiece.

"I'm not go--"

"Don't talk."

"Fucker."

Joe tightened his grip, making Slash's lips pucker out a bit. "Don't fucking talk."

He didn't and, in fact, seemed more comfortable this time than he had when Joe first applied the lipstick. When Joe came to his upper lip, he curled it up a little, making it easier for Joe to work on it.

Joe snapped the cap on lipslipstick and sat back. "There."

"There," Slash said. "What the fuck's this shit look like anyway?" He got up from the couch and headed toward the bathroom. "Probably look like a fucking tart, right? Or a clown."

Joe got up and followed.

"Well?" Joe leaned against the doorway to watch Slash stare into the wall of mirror over the sink.

"Fuck."

"What?"

Slash turned around and leaned his ass against the counter. "What the fuck is up with this shit anyway?"

Joe shrugged. He turned the lipstick case in his hands. He watched Slash look off into space, watched gnaw his lower lip while he thought the situation out.

Finally, Slash looked at him and said, "What do you want?"

"What do you mean?"

Slash didn't answer; he held his gaze steady on Joe, though.

Joe looked away. He coughed, almost feeling the imaginary tickle in his throat.

"You get off on this, don't you? 'Lick your lips. No, not like that.' Asshole."

He looked up at Slash, then. "Yeah." He swallowed, expecting Slash to storm by him, maybe punch him on the way by.

"So what the fuck's next, Joe? What the fuck is it you want?"

"You want to know?"

Slash answered with a look on his face. Joe looked away again, looking toward the ceiling, the shower. Then back to Slash. Now or never, right? "Wh"What, you want to kiss me? Fucking homo."

Joe licked the corner of his mouth. His palms were hot, damp. "Slash, I--"

"What?" Slash pushed off the sink counter and walked right up to him. He grabbed the lipstick tube from Joe's fingers. "What? You want this shit all over your cock, don't you?"

Yeah. Fuck yeah. His voice felt like it was crawling up out of a mine shaft. "Slash...."

"Take off your jacket." He looked down at the lipstick tube, looked at the sticker on its bottom. "Shirt, too." He uncapped it, twisted the stick of color up then back down. He popped the cap back on.

Joe, his breaths coming twice as fast as they'd been a minute ago, undid the last button on his shirt and then slipped it off. He let it fall to the floor on top of his jacket.

As Joe watched, Slash brought his own hand to his face and kissed his fingers. Then he turned his hand and pressed it with its smudged purple kiss against Joe's mouth. Joe held himself still. The fingers only stayed a moment. As soon as they were gone, he licked his lips.

Slash smiled, watching. Joe wasn't sure what to make of the smile, though. Something deep inside him felt uneasy with it. But something else deep inside him didn't give a shit.

When Slash told him to turn around, he did, without hesitation.

The skin on his back prickled with anticipation of...he didn't know what. Something good or something bad; either way, something.

He felt a light touch come around his waist. Glancing down, he saw Slash begin unbuckling the belt he was wearing.

His cock was as hard as it had ever been. The sound of the belt moving over denim as Slash drew it free of its belt loops tugged at his balls. He wanted to relax back against Slash, let Slash's hands roam over his crotch, but before he could work up the courage, Slash said, "Put your arms behind your back."

He laughed. "What?"

"Come on. You have your kinky; I have mine. Give 'em."

Shit. He swallowed.

A thumb pressed against his spine, just above the waistband of his jeans. It rubbed a little. In a quiet voice, Slash said, "Come on. Cooperate."

Slowly, Joe reached back and crossed his wrists. He closed his eyes while Slash wrapped the belt around them. His body swayed a little as Slash pulled the tongue through the buckle and fastened it.

"There," Slash said. "How's that?"

"Um...." Joe's breathing was so shallow that it felt like his lungs had crawled to the top of his chest. "Okay."

"Cool beans. Come on." Slash took him by the elbow and led him--a little quickly; Joe started to trip over his own foot before he got going--back to the living room where he pushed Joe onto his back on the couch.

Having his wrists bound had been strange enough; having his body weight on top of his bound wrists was an even stranger sensation. As Slash sat on his thighs, pinning him, he realized he'd put himself in a dangerous position.

Slash fished the tube of lipstick from the front pocket of his jeans, then opened it with his teeth, spitting the cap onto the floor.

"What do you think, Joe? I need a touch up?" He licked his upper lip again, slowly, though not as slowly as before. Then, grinning, he twisted the lipstick up and held it an inch from his lips. "Ready Joe?"

Stunned, his brain starting to feel like wettontton and his cock feeling like a hot lead rod drooling molten precum in his tight jeans, Joe nodded.

Slash touched the stick of color to his bottom lip, then slowly worked it across to the other side. Then he came back in the other direction. He lifted his chin a little before moving to his top lip. Then he ran the tip of the lipstick along the same slow path his tongue had taken.

"Better?" Slash asked in a low voice, looking down at Joe, putting his hand on Joe's chest, the lipstick still in his hand digging into Joe's bones.

Mesmerized, Joe nodded.

"Your turn," Slash said.

"Wh--"

Slash pressed a finger to Joe's lips. "Shhhh. Don't talk."

Then he scooted down until his chest was over Joe's cock. He slipped a hand under Joe's lower back and held the lipstick over Joe's bare stomach. Joe watched his stomach rise and fall with his quick breaths.

Slash caught his ey"Don"Don't look."

Joe settled his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. In a few seconds, he felt the warm, oily lipstick touch his skin. As slowly as Slash had licked his upper lip that first time, he drew the color over Joe's stomach. Then back and forth, up and down, over the same spots several times, darkening and thickening the lines. Joe felt Slash's chest brush his crotch, just barely, and ifteifted his hips. The side of Slash's hand chopped him back down. Joe licked his lips.

"Okay," Slash said finally, sitting up, twisting the stick back down.

Joe lifted his head and looked.

He stared at the word.

Slash said, "Don't fuck with me ever again." Then he chucked the lipstick at Joe's chest and got off him.

"Slash--" Fuck. His gaze flashed between the word across his stomach and Slash's retreating form. Slash was wiping his mouth with his hand.

"Saul?"

"Don't call me that."

The door slammed shut.

Fuck. Joe rolled off the couch, his arms still bound behind him. Fuck. He pressed his forehead against the couch cushions as he tried to work his hands free. Fuck fuck fuck.

After five minutes of wriggling and cursing, he stopped and tried to catch his breath. And his thoughts. Fuck. He wiped sweat from his brow onto the couch. Steven would never let him live this down, but he was the only viable option here. Fuck. He climbed to his feet and walked to the end table that held the phone. It was awkward getting the handset up and laying it on the edge of the table in such a way that he'd be able to crouch and talk, but he managed. Then he punched Steven's room number in and dropped to his knees. After three rings, Steven picked up.

"Hey, man, can you come to my room for a minute?"

"Right now?"

Another silent curse ran through Joe's mind. "Right now would be nice."

"I can't right now."

"Fuck. It's kind of important."

"Why, what is it?"

Before Joe could answer, he heard Steven's muted voice talking to someone in the room. No, from the sound of it, there were several someones. Fuck.

"Joe?"

"It'll just take a minute, I promise, and--"

"Look, can it wait--" There was a pause. "--twenty minutes? Thirty at the outside?"

Fuck. Joe scratched a sudden itch on his cheek with his shoulder. Then he said, "Okay, thirty at the outside. No more than that, okay? And hey."

"What?"

"Come alone."

A laugh. "Of course I was gonna come alone. But what the fuck's the big deal?"

"Just--thirty minutes, okay? No longer."

"Right. I'll see ya then."

"Thanks."

"No prob."

A click signaled the end of the conversation. Joe climbed to his feet once again--his knees were way too fucking old for this today--and replaced the phone in its cradle.

With thirty minutes stretching out before him, he found himself with nothing better to do but recall what had gotten him into this predicament and get himself hard all over again.

"Fuck!"

He paced the room, brushed the curtains aside with his chin, hated the view and let them fall closed again, paced some more.

After ten minutes, a knock came at the door.

His cock was still a bolt in his pants, which he'd also catch hell for, but at least Steven was fucking early for a change. He jogged across the room and turned to fumble with the door.

Once he had the knob turned, he realized he had to walk the fucking door open. He had open six inches when he felt weight pushing on it. He let go of the hand and stepped out of the way.

And found himself looking at Slash.

Slash closed the door.

Then he pushed Joe against the wall and kissed him with those big, soft, insistent lips. Joe opened his mouth in surprise and their mouths fell together, fit together. Joe inhaled Slash's breath and felt dizzy, weak, overcome.

Slash forced an arm between Joe and the wall and held Joe against him as their tongues tasted each other. His other hand snaked up under Joe's hair and squeezed the back of his neck.

"Sorry," Slash said into Joe's hair when he broke the kiss finally. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. But if you fucking say a word to anyone, I'll come back and fucking cut your balls off."

"Not a word," Joe said. "Scout's honor."

Slash pushed hiainsainst the wall again, his hands rough on Joe's hips. "Where's the lipstick?"

Joe shook his head. "Wherever it landed...."

Slash left him there to go find it. Joe used the moment to catch his breath, taking deep gulps of air into his chest.

"Got it."

Crazy comments when through Joe's brain, like "What are you going to do? Add a fucking exclamation point?" but he didn't speak any of them. Instead he watched Slash walk into the bathroom. He took a few steps to the left so he could watch, and it was worth it. Slash leaned toward the mirror and carefully recoated his lips. When he was done, he prd thd them together, just like a pro. Then he pulled them apart with a pop and set the tube of lipstick on the counter.

When he walked back toward Joe, Joe noticed for the first time that the word Slash had written across his abdomen had gotten all over the front of Slash's t-shirt, though of course it was illegible. He looked down at himself and saw that "FAG" had been smudged, but was still recognizable, or it was if you knew what it was supposed to be.

He lifted his eyes to Slash's lips, full and rich and purple again. Purple like a person's insides. Like the womb. Like the head of a cock.

Slash did that long, slow lick of his lips again as he undid Joe's fly. He pushed Joe's jeans down off his hips. Then he stepped close, held Joe's jaw with one hand, and said, "This is what you wanted, right?"

Joe could only nod. Barely. And roll his eyes back as Slash dropped to his knees and took his shaft in hand.

He felt a warm, wet tickling over the head of his dick, like a cat licking soft and quick. Slash's grip tightened on his shaft, just a little, but the licking didn't change. Lick, lick, lick so soft it almost wasn't there, but it was it fucking was and it was driving him nuts. His muscles tensed as though they could pull more sensation toward them. He pressed back against the wall and gritted his teeth against the shout that was building in his chest.

When Slash's lips suddenly closed around his cock, the shout fell away. And Slash didn't waste any more time, either. His hand pumped as his mouth worked all over the head. Joe risked a look down and seeing Slash's thick lips hugging his cock and shiny purple lipstick smeared over his shaft sent him over the edge completely without warning. A surprised "Hunh!" jetted up from his throat and his head came back and hit the wall hard. Slash ducked aside just in time, keeping his hand gripping Joe's shaft, though, directing the ropes of come off to the side, away from him.

"Shit," Joe breathed when his senses cleared.

"Shit is right," Slash said with a grin. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to warn people when you're gonna do that?"

Joe gasped, swallowed, apologized.

Slash came to his feet, rubbing his hand over his the bulge in his pants. Again he reminded Joe of a cat with his lazy grin, the way he pushed against his own hand, rubbing, spreading his scent. "Now what?" he said in a voice as lazy as his grin.

Joe shrugged, both to say that he didn't know and to emphasize that his wrists were still bound. Maybe if his hands were free....

Someone hammered on the door. Both men jerked their heads toward it.

"It's Steven," Joe said.

"Fuck."

"Joe! Hey, come on. I'm only two fucking minutes late. My watch was slow, man. Hey, Joe!" More banging. "Joe?" A little more banging. Then a quiet, "Fuck it" followed by silence.

Slash looked back at Joe.

Joe shrugged again.

Slash laughed, and then Joe did, too.

"Fuck," Slash said, putting his forehead against Joe's. "Suck my cock."

"Okay."

Joe folded awkwardly to his knees. He watched Slash open his own pants and pull out his cock. He unconsciously licked his lips when he saw that the fat, shiny head was Gems 'N Roses purple--and, because it was naturally that way, the color wasn't likely to smear off. He give it his best effort, though, rubbing his lips over it, then his tongue, and finally trying to suck the color off. Hfforfforts were met with gasps and sharp breaths from above until with a thick groan Slash tried to pull back, but Joe followed, leaning forward, and Slash lost it, released right into Joe's mouth, and Joe swallowed it down.

"Okay, cool," Slash said after a minute, backing away. Zipping up. "That was cool."

Joe sat back on his heels. The wall was behind him. He leaned his head against it, the taste of Slash still in his mouth.

"See ya at the show?" Slash said.

"Huh?"

"The show. Later."

"Yeah...."

"Cool. Bye."

"Hey!"

***

An hour later, the long-awaited knock came at his door. Joe struggled up from the couch and ran to answer it.

"Joe, you'd better fucking be there this time!" Steven yelled.

"I'm here. Just a minute." He turned his back to the door once again and fumbled with the knob.

"What the--what the fuck?"

"Look, I'm wicked sorry about earlier," Joe said as Steven stared at him, his mouth looking twice as big as normal. "I can explain but...probably not. Could you?" He turned his back and lifted his shoulders. Wiggled his hands.

"What the fuck happened here?"

"I know how it looks." He had eyes, and a mirror in the bathroom. "FAG" was still vaguely legible across his stomach. His pants were open. Not to mention his own belt tied around his wrists. "Just...look, I'm losing feeling in my thumbs. Belt first, details later?"

Steven's fingers were already working at the belt, though, and in a few seconds, Joe's hands were free. He rubbed his wrist, flexed his fingers, swung and stretched his arms.

"Details over dinner?" Steven asked.

"Sure."

"You wanna get cleaned up?"

Joe looked down at himself. "Yeah. Give me twenty."

When he was showered and dressed and they were ready to head out, he thought of something. "Just a sec."

He went back in the bathroom and grabbed the lipstick tube off the counter. He had no idea where the cap to it was. Just as well--he didn't need it for long.

"We need to make a quick side trip," he told Steven.

"Whatever."

They got off the elevator on the fifth floor. Quietly, Joe led the way down the carpeted hall until they got to Slash's room. He doubted Steven had any idea whose room it was; Joe only knew because, well, he'd been staking Slash out since they signed Guns to the tour. He twisted the lipstick and, poking his tongue out the corner of his mouth, hunkered in front of Slash's door.

"What the--"

"Shhh," Joe said, writing very carefully. The lipstick was getting low. He hoped he had enough left.

"There," he whispered, stepping away.

"Nice. Very fucking nice. Can we go eat now?"

"Yup." He tossed the lipstick tube in the air and caught it again. After one last look at "cocksucker" emblazoned across Slash's door, running fully from one edge to the other, Joe smiled and turned to follow Steven. He wondered if Slash would come get him back from that after the show or if he'd make him wait.

Nah, Slash had a short temper and a hot cock. He'd be back after the show. Joe made a note to himself to hide his belt this time.

###