summary: She came tor the music. she never expected to be noticed. One night, one concert, and one unexpected backstage invitation changes everything between a fan and the rockstar she thought she only knew from the stage.
authors note : didn’t proofread this one!! uhm if anyone reads this who knows me personally, no u dont.
Content Warnings : NSFW 18+, Age-gap, Sexual content,dirty talk, kissing, intimate touching, Dominant/submissive dynamics, fingering, Spanking, Intense physical and emotional intimacy. (basically pure smut)
And then Axl kissed you again, his mouth warm and insistent against yours. The room was quiet now, just the hum of lights and distant crew chatter—but to both of you, nothing else existed.
Then, without breaking the kiss (or maybe pausing for half a breath), he moved fast again, one strong arm hooking around your waist while the other braced on your shoulder, and in one fluid motion, he tugged you forward across his lap until suddenly, there wasn’t space between them anymore.
You landed straddling him—
the soft fabric of your dress riding up slightly over thighs
and your hands on either side of his chest to steady yourself.
Your legs settled naturally along each side of his hips.
his body reacted when you shifted “accidentally”in his lap, pressing down just slightly as you adjusted yourself.
And oh
Right then.
Immediately.
Unavoidably.
You felt it.
It radiated through his jeans—firm, undeniable pressure right where your thigh met his hip
and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved.
Axl’s breath came out slow and controlled, like he was trying to play it cool… but the way his jaw tensed? The slight flare of nostrils as he inhaled?
He wasn’t calm.
Not even close.
His hands snapped tighter around your waist instantly—not pushing away, no. Possessive. Like if someone tried to pull you off right now, they’d have to pry him off first.
A low sound escaped him, almost silent, a hum deep in the back of throat that vibrated into chest pressed against yours.
That thick pressure between your legs that made heat pool low in your stomach.
And without thinking—without planning it—you whimpered.
Just a tiny, soft sound. A breathy little noise caught between movements of your clothed bodies against each other, that slipped out before you could stop it.
But Axl heard it.
Axl studied your face like he was trying to memorize how flustered and turned on you looked right then.
Then slowly, deliberately,
he reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt a worn black t shirt soaked with sweat from hours on stage, and started lifting it off over his head.
You stared for one stunned second because wow this wasn’t some magazine photo or concert close-up.
This was the real Axl Rose,
in front of you, half-naked,
and still watching you like nothing else mattered.
The shirt came off completely, tossed aside with zero care, landing somewhere near the half-empty whiskey bottle.
And then he was just there.
All lean muscle and old tattoos. His chest rose and fell steadily, but faster than before—not from exhaustion now, but anticipation.
Axl reached for you again almost instantly but slower this time. Not grabbing or pulling like earlier.
No.
He cupped your face gently in one large hand. His thumb brushing over your cheekbone and kissed you softer than before. A contrast to how wild it had been seconds ago.
It was quiet. It was so quiet, yet the silence between us was deafening. We didn’t speak, but one single look into each-others eyes, we had an entire conversation.
When he pulled back an inch again, lips still close enough to brush if either leaned forward, Axl whispered: "You’re fucking beautiful."
Three simple words.
But they hit harder than any song lyric ever could because he said them—not the sassy rebellious rockstar everyone worshipped. Just him talking straight to you.
And suddenly? You felt shy all over again despite everything that'd already happened tonight.
He tilted his head slightly as he studied your face—the flush on your cheeks, the way your lips still looked kiss swollen and then.
"Oh," he said lowly. "You’re all shy now?"
Then his voice dropped even lower but laced with something filthy underneath:
"After grinding on me like that?"
Your breath caught.
Because yeah… okay…
You had been moving against him without thinking. Probably had looked desperate as hell to anyone watching.
He leaned closer until his mouth brushed right by your ear and murmured, "Filthy little thing."
In one smooth motion, Axl shifted.
Still holding your face for a second, then his hands slid down to your shoulders, pressing gently but firmly until you were lying back on the couch. The cushions dipped under his weight as he followed over you without breaking eye contact.
Now he was hovering above,knees bracketing either side of your hips.
And damn.
He looked good like this.
All bare-chested and messy-haired with that hungry glint behind those famous eyes.
Axl’s hands moved with slow, deliberate precision, his fingertips gliding over the soft fabric of your dress before finding the delicate ties that held it in place.
Then his lips brushed your ear. A low whisper "Can I take this off you, honey?"
Your chest tightened at how effortlessly sweet—and dangerously intimate—that sounded.
No one had ever called you honey quite like that before. Not with that low, warm tone. Not with that look in their eyes. And certainly not while leaning over you as you sat there, flustered on the couch, your pulse racing beneath the weight of the moment.
You exhaled shakily.
And barely managed to nod before whispering back:
"...Please."
The word came out fragile. Small. But full of want.
Axl’s smirk returned in an instant—the quiet, knowing kind that surfaced whenever he caught the slightest crack in your composure. Not triumphant. Just unmistakably aware.
His gaze lingered on yours for a heartbeat before he closed the distance. Without a word, his hands came to rest lightly at your sides, warm against the fabric.
With deliberate care, he began to lift the dress.
The material whispered as it slid through his fingers, each measured movement drawing out the silence between you. Time seemed to slow, anticipation settling in the space neither of you dared to fill.
The hem rose little by little.
First, the gentle line of your waist.
Then the graceful curve of your ribs.
And finally…
Your chest came into full view.
No bra. Just soft skin and the faint rise-fall of breath that quickened as Axl’s gaze dropped to take you in.
For a second, he didn’t move at all. Just stared.
His dark eyes widened slightly. Not with shock, but awe. Like he’d expected something… and got something infinitely better than imagined.
His breath caught—a quiet inhale through parted lips—and before the warmth in your cheeks could deepen any further, he leaned down.
Not speaking this time.
Not teasing anymore either,just pure hunger, and kissed your right boob. Soft at first, just warm lips pressing gently.
Then another kiss followed on other side, same tenderness but firmer now,more deliberate.
Axl kissed each breast again. This time slower, more deliberate. His lips warm and slightly parted. No rushing. Just worshipping.
Then his mouth opened a little wider and he sucked. A soft suck that made your back arch off the couch without meaning to.
His hands slid down your sides as he kissed you there, thumbs brushing over hips where fabric still clung before finally pushing the dress lower. Until it pooled at your feet on the floor beside couch.
Now?
You were just in panties and nothing else. Axl paused again too look at you
His throat moved as he swallowed hard and then exhaled slowly through his nose like someone trying not to lose control too fast.
“So fucking pretty.”
And before either of you could breathe properly again,he leaned back down, not going for kisses this time but pressing his gentle lips first along shoulder,
then neck and trailing lower.
Axl broke the tender trail of kisses across your chest and sat back slightly on his heels.
He reached for his leather pants—the ones he’d worn all night during the concert, dark with wear and probably smelling faintly of stage sweat.
With one smooth pull at the belt loop, Axl unhooked everything at once and shoved jeans down past thighs.
Now he sat there bare-legged in just black boxer briefs. And you could see it:
The outline pressing hard through thin fabric.
The outline was unmistakable—thick and heavy against the front of his black boxers, straining slightly from the fabric that did little to hide how affected he truly was.
Axl didn’t look embarrassed.
Didn’t try to adjust himself or play it cool like some shy guy would.
And then without breaking eye contact, he hooked two fingers into the waistband of those briefs and slowly started pushing them down.
Axl didn’t rush, no dramatic striptease, no music playing in the background to build tension—but this was its own kind of slowburning spectacle.
He was fully naked now.
Oh my god, you thought.
Right there at centre, fully hard. Anyone could see exactly how much he wanted you right now.
A sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your body reacted instantly. Thighs squeezed together without thinking.
But Axl noticed. Of course he did. His dark eyes flicked down to your legs, the way they clenched and something shifted in his expression. Not annoyance. Not frustration.
Amusement. And hunger dialing up another level.
In one swift motion, he reached forward and hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties. The soft fabric hugged your hips, delicate white lace, and suddenly it was being tugged down. No hesitation as he pulled them over your thighs in one smooth yank.
And just like that—they were off.
Tossed somewhere behind him.
Axl’s gaze roamed over your body like he was memorizing every curve. “Eyed me up all innocent when I was on stage, and now you’re fucking soaked for me? practically begging for me to fuck you?”
Your breath came in shallow, uneven puffs. Heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat.
You didn’t want to beg. Not really.
But right now. Under him like this? So without thinking, without filtering yourself—you blurted out "Please… touch me."
The words tumbled out shaky and soft but loud enough to fill the quiet room between them.
And just as quickly after saying it? Your face burned with embarrassment for how openly vulnerable that sounded coming from someone who’d been all confidence earlier at barricade.
Axl didn’t answer with words.
No teasing smirk. No soft chuckle or playful remark about how cute you were for begging.
His expression darkened into something possessive, and utterly dominant. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between you on the couch.
One large hand slid up your thigh. His fingers traced higher. Past knee, over soft inner skin, and closer.
Without warning, his thumb brushed right over your clit through nothing but air and pressure alone made you jolt. You gasped again—louder this time. You bucked ur hips up, hoping to get more friction.
Then Axl leaned down closer...
his breath hot against your ear as his other hand pinned both of yours gently above head...
Axl’s grip on your wrists was firm but not painful—just enough pressure to keep you from moving, from reaching out or touching him unless he allowed it.
And then his mouth crashed onto yours. Lips claimed yours with rough hunger—kissing deep and hard like he’d been waiting too long for this.
At the same time, that thumb of his kept circling.
Teasing slow circles over your clit without dipping lower yet.
Testing how wet you really were through the heat of skin alone.
You could feel yourself getting slicker by the second—the warmth building low in stomach.
Axl noticed everything: every hitched breath against his lips, every tiny squirm beneath him.
He broke the kiss only to trail hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Axl didn’t hesitate.
The second your desperate “Please, touch me" hit his ears, something in him snapped.
He didn’t say anything cruel.
Didn’t mock you or make some cocky remark about how obvious it was that you were soaked for him.
Instead, Axl just moved.
In one fluid motion, he shifted over you fully—and without asking again or teasing anymore, he slid two fingers down between your legs.
Without warning,he pressed those two fingers straight against your clit and rubbed once: slow, deliberate, testing pressure.
Axl let out a low groan, the second his fingers felt how wet you were.
He leaned down until his lips hovered right above your ear—close enough that every word brushed hot skin like a physical touch and growled, "Fuck. You’re already this soaked?" His tone was thick with dark amusement.
Then without missing a beat:
"Been thinkin’ about me? While I sang?"
you whimpered “yes axl, I’ve wanted you so bad.” you answered while looking up at him with a look of desperation.
"You're such a dirty little thing... all worked up over me." Axl’s breath hitched, just slightly, as his thumb kept rubbing slow, maddening circles over your clit. He was watching your face the whole time: how your lips parted with each shaky inhale, how eyelashes fluttered like you were fighting not to moan too loud. And it turned him on.
He leaned in closer again—mouth grazing the shell of your ear and this time his voice came out even dirtier "God… look at that pretty pussy."
His fingers finally slipped lower. Brushing through slick folds. Testing heat before he pushed two digits inside without warning.
The moment his two fingers slid inside you, Axl let out a quiet huff like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it.
And you, you were a mess. Trying hard not to let out all the noises. Soft whimpers coming out of your plump lips.
You were tight. Soaking wet.
And hot in a way that made the pad of his fingers throb with sensation as they sank deeper.
With rhythm and purpose, his thumb returning to circle your clit while the other hand worked two fingers slowly in and out.
And then Axl leaned down again. Mouth crashing onto yours—as if claiming every moan about to escape.
Your breath came in short, desperate gasps. Each one hitching as Axl’s fingers worked inside you with that steady, dominant rhythm. The curl of his fingers? Perfect.
His thumb on your clit? Cruel in the best way.
And then, between kisses and moans you couldn’t quite suppress, Axl pulled back just enough to look down at you.
You couldn’t lie. Couldn't hide how much he was affecting you.
So without thinking, without pride or filter anymore, you whispered "Please, use me." Voice shaky. Small. Submissive as hell. Not demanding anything from him. Just offering yourself completely.
In one smooth motion, he pulled his soaked fingers out and brought them to his own mouth.
With a slow drag of tongue across two glistening digits, axl tasted you for the first time. His eyes stayed locked on yours the whole time.
Axl moved fast, like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t about to waste another second. He positioned himself over you completely.
Now there was no space left between your bodies.
Just skin-to-skin heat, breaths mingling in short pants, hearts hammering in sync.
Without warning—or asking again—Axl aligned himself.
His cock brushed against your inner thigh first, then higher. Until the thick tip pressed right at your entrance…
“Are u ready honey?” axl asked you.
You nodded desperately, “yes, please axl just fuck me already!”
Axl smirked. With slow but firm intent, he pushed inside.
The second Axl pushed inside, a shared gasp tore through the quiet room.
You both moaned at the same time.
yours : high-pitched, breathy—a soft “Oh!" caught in your throat as you arched instinctively into him.
His: deeper. A low groan that rumbled from his chest—raw and involuntary because damn, you were tight and warm around him.
Axl stayed buried halfway—still not fully seated—and then leaned down until his lips hovered just above yours, hot breaths mixing.
"Fucking hell… so wet." Voice thick with lust. "You feel so good." Then he added : "Been dreamin’ about this all night..."
The moment Axl finished speaking, you didn’t hesitate.
You wanted him to move inside of you. You demanded it—your voice breathless but firm, laced with a desperation that surprised even you:
"Move. Hard please."
His pupils dilated instantly at your command. Not because he was surprised, but because you’d just given him permission to take what he wanted.
With one powerful thrust, his hips snapped forward hard—forcing himself deeper into you all at once, and the sudden intensity made both of your moans crash together again: louder and messier this time.
You cried out, a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure ripping from your throat as his size stretched you perfectly.
He groaned again. Low and guttural. “You are so perfect. I knew it from the moment I saw u in the crowd.”
You couldn’t take it anymore. It felt too good. “Axl..”
Axl began fucking into you harder. “hm? what is it? can’t my pretty baby even form a proper sentence while my cock is inside of her?”
“fuck, yes” you moaned. His hands found yours instantly—pinning them back above head on couch cushion.
"Goddamn... so tight."
His arms flexed as he held your wrists pinned above your head, muscles taut with effort and arousal. Sweat already glistened on his forehead—tiny droplets forming along his hairline—but he didn’t slow down.
Not even a little.
He kept talking—filthy words slipping out between gritted teeth like prayers "Fuck… taking me so good."
You tilted your head back against the couch cushion and let it all out:
a shaky sigh mixed with a moan, then,
"Hmm... I love the feeling of your cock inside me." Voice soft. Dreamy. Completely surrendered. Even more submissive:
"I’m yours to use."
Just pure offering—like every inch of your body belonged to him right now.
He leaned down fast and kissed you hard, a messy clash of lips and teeth, as if rewarding what you’d just said.
The kiss was all teeth and tongue, messy, hungry.
Axl kissed you like he wanted to devour every sound you made next—like your moans were his now too, and then he broke it.
Without warning,
he lifted one of your legs higher, knee bending up toward shoulder, as if changing the angle.
He slammed into that spot.
No warning. No buildup.
Just full-force penetration with a thrust so powerful it punched the air from your lungs, and all you could do? Scream. A loud, raw cry tore from your throat. Unfiltered and desperate, as pleasure crashed over you like a wave breaking on shore.
Your back arched off the couch completely.
Hands clenched at nothing as fingers curled tight.
Eyes squeezed shut because it felt too much, but not enough at same time.
And Axl didn’t stop.
Didn't slow down even an inch.
Axl loved that scream. The sound of it sent a surge of pure adrenaline through him. His cock throbbed inside you at the noise.
You kept screaming.
Not in pain but in overwhelming pleasure so intense it hurt good.
He watched every second.
The way your mouth opened wide between cries. How tears pricked the corners of eyes from sheer sensation. How helplessly turned-on you looked under him.
Between heavy breaths he growled down at you "Scream my name.”
The command hit you like a shockwave.
You obeyed.
So between ragged breaths and trembling lips?
You screamed: “Axl!”, loud and desperate.
Raw with need and ecstasy—and maybe something deeper neither of you were ready to name yet.
Something changed inside of axl at the sound of it.
Hearing you screaming his name like that, sent a primal jolt straight through his spine. His jaw clenched. His thrusts got harder.
More possessive. More needy.
He wanted to hear it again.
Louder. Again and again until there was nothing else in your mind but him.
You didn’t even get a second to recover from the last scream before another one ripped out of you. Louder than before. Higher pitched. More broken with pleasure:
"Axl! oh my god!"
Tears pricked your eyes now—not from pain, but from how overwhelming the sensation was. Your hands flew to his arms, gripping tight as if holding on for dear life while he pounded into you without mercy.
Axl growled through gritted teeth:
"That’s right… scream my name."
Axl’s breath came heavy—chest rising and falling fast.
His eyes darkened with a new kind of hunger.
He wanted more.
Different position.
More control.
Harder access.
Axl gently but firmly rolled you over, turning your body onto your stomach as the couch cushioned beneath you shifted under his weight.
He lifted himself up slightly, guiding both knees to press into the mattress on all fours beside him and then pulled you up too until your hands were braced forward and back arched naturally in doggy style.
His palms slid down your spine slowly, a possessive touch, as he positioned behind you.
The moment you were on all fours—Axl hovering behind you, everything felt different.
More primal.
No faces to kiss.
No eye contact.
Just the heat of his body pressing close, the weight of his hands gripping your hips hard.
Axl lined himself up again.
His cock still slick with both your arousal, and without warning, he pushed forward.
Slow at first.
But only for a second.
He pulled back slightly—and then slammed into you from behind with full force. You let out a breathy loud moan as your body moved with his.
Now you weren’t just taking him.
You were being fucked. Properly, aggressively, like he owned every inch of you.
And oh god… it felt amazing.
Each snap forward drove his hips into yours—skin slapping against skin in rhythmic claps that echoed softly in the quiet room. The couch rocked slightly beneath both your weights as he set an immediate punishing pace.
His hands stayed locked on your hips—thumb digging faintly into bone, as he used them to pull you back harder onto each stroke.
No tenderness now.
Just pure dominance and hunger.
The rhythm between you was intense.
Axl leaned forward slightly—his chest pressing against your back as he kept thrusting and his voice came out ragged right by your ear:
"Fuck… you feel so damn good like this."
Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. It felt to good. And his words just made it better.
He added darker:
"Taking me so well… such a good girl..."
“yes, I’m your good girl.” you responded submissively.
“mhm, only mine.” he hummed.
He leaned down again. Lips brushing your ear as he spoke
"I wanna take you on tour."
Not a question.
A statement.
Like it was already decided in his mind.
He added:
"Every city... every show... I’ll fuck you after."
His hips never stopped moving as he said it though, still pounding into you hard while painting that fantasy out loud.
The fantasy, Axl, taking you on tour, fucking you after every show sent a thrill through your entire body.
You could picture it so clearly: backstage chaos, the roar of crowds fading and then him, pulling you into some dimly lit dressing room or hotel suite with that same hungry look in his eyes.
And yes.
Yes. You wanted that.
Without hesitation—and with your fingers already curled tight around the couch cushions from how hard he was taking you—Axl’s words made everything click inside.
So between moans and ragged breaths you answered him:
"Yes, Axl... please."
Voice trembling from overwhelming want. Desperation to be his. To travel with him. To have nights like this again and again.
Axl’s hand, which had been gripping ur waist, suddenly changed direction.
No softness. No teasing touch.
In one swift motion *smack*
His palm came down hard on your ass with a loud crack.
A a proper spank—firm and sharp enough to make you yelp in surprise and jolt forward slightly from the sting. Enough to make your pussy clench around him.
He growled: "Fuck. You liked that."
In response, you whimpered at his words.
And Axl, he did it again—harder this time.
Another slap right on the same spot—and then another.
Axl’s voice was thick with dominance, rough from exertion and arousal, as he watched your body react to each spank.
"Dirty little thing... so dirty for me..."
And between breaths, between the sounds of skin hitting skin.
He kept talking.
"Such a bad girl… taking my cock so good while getting spanked.”
He wasn't just fucking you anymore.
Something primal had taken over—something deeper than lust or sex alone.
And when he looked down at you—the way your back arched from his spanks and cock simultaneously—Axl felt it: a raw urge to claim in the most animalistic way possible.
His hips snapped harder now—not just chasing pleasure for himself—but wanting something else too.
Axl’s voice was thick with dominance, rough from exertion and arousal as he watched your body react to each spank.
The way your skin flushed pink under his hand.
How you squirmed—not pulling away, but taking it.
It drove him wild.
He growled right against your ear:
"Wanna cum inside."
No hesitation.
No shame.
Your breath caught.
Not in shock.
Not disgust.
But in want. A deep, aching pull low in your belly at how possessive and primal that sounded coming from him.
You didn’t answer right away.
Couldn’t.
Because your mind was spinning—imagining exactly what he meant: his release flooding into you. Marking you as his. Leaving no space for anyone else.
When reality crashed back?
You nodded fast -desperate, and whispered:
"Yes... please... fill me up."
Voice shaky but sincere.
Submissive to the core now. Begging not just for pleasure.
But for claiming.
Axl’s entire body tensed at your whisper. Those words—soft, shaky and begging, sent a shiver through his spine.
His cock throbbed inside you like it had a mind of its own, suddenly even harder than before.
His hips shifting into something slower… deeper… more purposeful. Each thrust aimed perfectly to hit that spot where he could leave himself behind…
He kept one hand on your hip—gripping hard—as the other slid around and pressed low on your stomach, right above where he was buried deep.
Ax's breath came in ragged bursts now. Each thrust slower but deeper, his body coiled tight with the effort of holding back-not because he didn't want to come, but because this felt too good to come to an end.
When you felt that familiar coil low in your belly-the one signaling you were close too-Axl sensed it. Felt the way your muscles fluttered around him.
But before anything else happened?
Before either of you could tip over, he gritted his teeth-and groaned: "I'm gonna cum."
The second Axl said "I'm gonna cum," you felt it too-your own climax crashing in like a wave right behind his.
And without hesitation-between gasps and trembling lips-you cried out:
"Me tooo... me too, Axl!"
Voice breaking with ecstasy.
Desperate.
Needing him to know right now that you were coming with him.
Because this wasn't just sex anymore. It was connection-two bodies syncing perfectly on the edge of release together.
And as your walls clenched around his cock from the first pulse of your orgasm?
Axl felt it.
The second your body tightened around him - clenching, pulsing, soaking-his own control snapped completely. That was all he needed.
All the permission his primal brain required.
With a low groan that sounded almost like a growl-deep and guttural-Axl buried himself as far inside you as possible.
And then?
He came.
Hard.
Hot.
Flooding you with everything he had. The thick warmth of his release pumping deep in long, rhythmic pulses while his hips twitched through each wave of pleasure.
The room fell silent-except for your heavy breathing and the occasional aftershock trembling through both of you.
Axl stayed buried deep inside, still softening slowly but not pulling out.
His forehead dropped against your shoulder— exhausted, spent-but in a good way. A deeply satisfied way.
That release had been massive.
Not just physical but emotional too. Like something primal in him had finally clicked into place now that he'd filled you up completely.
And as his chest rose and fell behind you-the heat of his body wrapped around yours-Axl lifted one hand to gently stroke your long beautiful hair.
No words yet.
Softly, he kissed the back of your neck.
The kiss on your neck was gentle-so different from the roughness of before.
Tender.
Quiet.
Almost reverent. Axl didn't say anything. Just pressed his lips there again, lingering this time— a soft peck that contrasted sharply with the spanking, the dominance, all that wild fucking.
And slowly, he carefully pulled out-being mindful now-and shifted onto his side next to you on the couch.
The moment after climax, the heavy silence, the warmth still humming between you—you slowly began to move.
Your arms were shaky from holding yourself up on all fours for so long.
So first, you lowered your hands, then carefully shifted your weight back onto your knees.
You pushed yourself upright, rolling gently onto one side and started crawling toward Axl’s end of the couch.
The cushions dipped slightly under each movement as you made your way over.
And when you reached him, you didn’t hesitate.
Just turned fully and sat beside him—your thigh pressing lightly against his in quiet closeness.
And axl watched you the whole time, quietly, without speaking.
He saw every small movement.
The way your muscles flexed as you shifted positions,
how your hair fell messily over one shoulder after being pinned under him earlier.
And when you finally sat beside him—close enough that your skin touched his thigh,
something in his chest softened even more.
No words yet. Just the two of them now sitting side by side on the couch—a soft contrast to all that wild sex just minutes ago.
He turned slightly toward you.
One arm lifted slowly, and then gently wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose but warm embrace.
Like he was saying “I'm here”without needing to speak it aloud.
As Axl held you close, his arms strong and safe around your smaller frame, your mind wandered.
He’s 60.
You were only 20.
Just a kid compared to him.
A baby in human years but legally an adult.
And yet here you were.
Naked.
Tangled up with Axl Rose. The man who’d been screaming into microphones for decades before you were even planned.
It was dirty—on paper at least.
Scandalous? Maybe. To some people?
Yeah—they’d call it wrong or gross or inappropriate.
But lying here now?
With his heartbeat steady against your back, his breath calm on your skin.
You didn’t feel disgusted.
No guilt came rushing in—not yet anyway.
Just... awareness of how wildly out of balance this all was.
And how much older he truly was than you………
The room had gotten quieter with every passing minute.
Neither of you wanted to acknowledge it, but the night was ending.
You could feel it.
The little bubble you had been in — away from the crowd, away from the noise, away from everything — was slowly disappearing.
You looked at your phone and sighed.
“I should probably go.”
Axl looked over at you.
For a second, he didn’t say anything.
Then he nodded.
“Yeah.”
But he didn’t sound like he wanted you to.
You smiled a little.
“You don’t have to look so disappointed.”
He gave a small laugh.
“I’m not.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
That made him smile.
“Maybe.”
You both stood up, and the reality of leaving became more obvious.
You grabbed your things, checking that you hadn’t forgotten anything. Axl watched you quietly, leaning against the table.
Then, almost like he was trying not to make it sound like a big deal, he said:
“So…”
You looked at him.
“So?”
He shrugged slightly.
“You coming the day after tomorrow?”
You blinked.
“The day after tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
He looked almost surprised that you didn’t immediately know what he meant.
“Night two.”
Your expression softened.
“Oh.”
Axl smiled a little.
“I mean… I hope I see you again.”
The words caught you off guard.
Not because they were dramatic.
Because he said them so simply.
Like he genuinely meant them.
You smiled.
“I wish I could.”
His eyebrows pulled together slightly.
“You can’t?”
You shook your head.
“No. I only bought tickets for tonight.”
Axl looked at you for a moment.
“Seriously?”
You laughed.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you were the kind of person who would be there both nights.”
You smiled.
“I would’ve loved to, but I didn’t.”
He looked down for a second, thinking.
Then he looked back at you.
“Come tomorrow.”
You stared at him.
“What?”
“Come to the show tomorrow.”
You laughed nervously.
“Axl…”
“I’m serious.”
“You mean buy another ticket?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
A small smile appeared.
“I mean come.”
You looked at him, trying to understand.
“You’re inviting me?”
“Yeah.”
The answer came so easily that it made your heart skip.
“I can’t just show up.”
“Why not?”
You laughed.
“Because I’m not exactly someone who can just walk into a concert.”
He smiled.
“You’re not just someone.”
Your face warmed.
He continued before you could argue.
“I’ll make sure you get in.”
You looked at him.
“You really want me there?”
Axl gave you a look like the question was obvious.
“Did you just forget what happened ?” he smirked
You smiled.
“Okay, that’s fair.”
He stepped a little closer.
“So?”
You hesitated, pretending to think about it.
“I guess I could.”
His smile immediately gave him away.
“Good.”
“You look way too happy about that.”
“Maybe I am.”
You laughed.
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
Then Axl looked at you more seriously.
“I’m glad you’re coming.”
That was the part that got you.
Not the invitation.
Not the backstage pass.
Just the fact that he actually seemed happy you would be there.
Your phone buzzed.
The taxi notification.
Your ride was outside.
You both looked at the screen.
And once again, the goodbye was waiting.
Axl sighed.
“Guess that’s your cue.”
“Apparently.”
You walked toward the door together.
Before you left, he stopped.
“Hey.”
You turned around.
“Yeah?”
he pulled you in for a soft kiss. Your lips were moving in a slow rhythm.
It wasn’t a “goodbye” kiss. Maybe a “see u later” kiss.
When you both pulled back, a small smile crossed his face.
“Don’t disappear.”
You smiled.
“I won’t.”
And you meant it.
Neither of you knew that you wouldn’t have to travel far to see him again.
Neither of you knew you were both going back to the same hotel.
For now, all you knew was that the day after tomorrow wasn’t the end.
summary : She came for the music. She never expected to be noticed. One night, one concert, and one unexpected backstage invitation changes everything between a fan and the rockstar she thought she only knew from the stage.
authors note : okay guys… here is it. THIS SHIT TOOK ME WEEKS. My first story btw!! and english isn’t my first language so don’t be surprised if there are any mistakes. anyways enjoy!! this story is long asf so I had to divide it into different parts.
Four and a half hours. Looking back, it sounded absolutely insane.
Four and a half hours you spent standing outside a stadium, surrounded by strangers who were just as obsessed as you were, all waiting for the same thing.
Your feet hurt, you had already finished the overpriced water you had bought before joining the queue, and your phone battery was hanging on for dear life.
But none of it mattered.
The second you got through the doors and made it to the barricade, every second of waiting became worth it.
you couldn't stop smiling as you gripped the rail in front of you.
Actual front row. Not second row pretending to be front row. Not close enough.
Barricade.
And somehow, out of all places, you'd ended up directly in front of Slash's side of the stage. If sixteen-year-old you could see this right now, you'd probably pass out.
The stadium continued filling up behind you, thousands of people slowly taking their seats while the pit became more crowded by the minute.
Every so often you glanced at the stage, trying to convince yourself this this was real. You were actually about to see Guns N' Roses.
Not through a screen.
Not through old concert footage.
Actually see them.
But before you would see them, a band, you didn't know will open for them. Well at least some music.
After 2 hours , the lights finally went down and the entire stadium erupted.
The noise was almost painful.
People were screaming so loudly around you that you couldn't even hear yourself anymore.
your heart immediately started racing as the band walked onto the stage.
Slash.
Duff.
Axl.
(and issac, melissa, dizzy, richard)
For a second you genuinely forgot how to breathe.
It was ridiculous. you knew it was ridiculous. you were twenty years old, not twelve.
But seeing someone you had admired for years standing right there in front of you felt unreal.
The first few songs passed in a blur.
You screamed lyrics until your throat hurt, jumped around with the crowd, and occasionally found yourself staring at the stage just to make sure this wasn't some weird dream.
Then you noticed something.
Axl kept looking toward your side.
At first you ignored it.
There were thousands of people packed into the stadium. Obviously he wasn't looking at you specifically.
That would be insane. You weren't special. You were just another fan standing at the barricade.
Still, every time you looked up, you somehow caught him glancing in your direction.
The first couple of times you brushed it off. It's normal,to look at someone, people look at people. They've got eyes for that.
But, the fifth time became harder to ignore. By the time Sweet Child O' Mine started, you were completely distracted by it…..
The opening riff sent the crowd into absolute chaos, and you found yourself laughing as everyone around you screamed the lyrics before the song had even properly begun.
Axl moved across the stage, interacting with fans, pointing toward different sections of the crowd.
Then, for a brief moment, his gaze landed on you.
Your stomach immediately dropped.
No.
Absolutely not.
You looked away so fast it almost gave you whiplash.
The last thing you needed was to become one of those delusional fans who convinced themselves a celebrity was interested in them because of a few seconds of eye contact.
And yet...
When you looked back, you caught him glancing over again.
"What the fuck?" you muttered under your breath.
The rest of the show only made things worse. Every time you convinced yourself, you were imagining it, you'd catch another glance. Every time you found a logical explanation, something happened that made you doubt it again.
But he was probably looking at other girls the same way, you convinced yourself.
November Rain nearly finished you off. The entire stadium glowed with thousands of phone lights while the familiar piano echoed through the speakers. It was beautiful. One of those moments you'd imagined a thousand times before ever attending a concert.
Yet somehow you spent half the song trying not to notice Axl.
Trying and failing.
Because whenever you looked towards the stage, you found yourself wondering if he was looking again.
And somehow he always seemed to be. By the end of the concert you were convinced you'd lost your mind.
The final song ended. The band waved goodbye.
The lights came back on.
Just like that, it was over.
People immediately began moving toward the exits, talking excitedly about the show, but you stayed where u stood for a minute.
Eventually you sighed and stepped away from the barricade.
That was when someone tapped your shoulder.
You turned around, expecting another fan.
Instead, it was a man wearing all black, with a crew badge hanging around his neck.
"Hey," he said. "You're the girl who was standing here all night, right?"
you blinked. "Uh... yeah?"
The man smiled slightly, "good. I was looking for you." Immediately, your stomach dropped.
Looking for me? Why? Had you accidentally broken some rule? Had security complained about something?
Before you could ask, the crew member continued.
"Axl was wondering if you'd like to come backstage for a bit."
For a moment you just stared at him.
The words registered.
Then they registered again.
And then a third time.
"Axl?" you repeated stupidly.
"Yeah."
"You're joking." you laughed nervously
"I'm not."
The corridor leading backstage suddenly felt very real. So did every glance you'd spent the entire night trying to explain away.
The crew member waited patiently while you stood there looking completely stunned.
He looked at you again, smiled, and jerked his head toward the hallway.
"C'mon."
Your legs followed before your brain could catch up.
The noise of the arena faded with every turn. Crew members rushed past carrying guitars, coiled cables, cups of coffee that had long since gone cold.
Nobody paid you any attention.
"You okay?" the crew member asked over his shoulder.
You blinked.
"Yeah."
"You look like you're gonna pass out." the crew member said. "I might." you responded.
That earned a laugh.
"You wouldn't be the first."
He stopped outside a plain black door. Music leaked faintly through it.
The crew member knocked twice.
"Yeah?" came a gravelly voice from inside.
"It's me."
A beat of silence.
"She here?"
"Yep."
Another pause.
"Send her in."
The crew member pushed the door open just enough for you to slip through.
The room wasn't glamorous.
If anything, it was disappointingly ordinary.
A leather couch that had seen better days. Half-empty water bottles scattered across a table. Someone's jacket thrown carelessly over the back of a chair.
He stood near the mirror with his back turned, toweling the sweat from his neck.
Without the stage lights, he looked different.
Real.
Hotter.
The door clicked shut behind you.
He caught your reflection in the mirror before turning around completely.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
His eyes narrowed just slightly, like he was making sure you were the same person he'd spent half the concert looking for.
Then one corner of his mouth lifted.
"So."
His voice was rough from hours of singing.
"It was you."
You frowned.
"What?"
"The one in the crowd."
You stared at him.
He let out a quiet laugh and looked at the floor, almost embarrassed.
"I kept looking over."
Your heart stumbled somewhere in your chest.
"I know," you admitted.
His smile widened.
"Thought maybe I was imagining it." you said.
"You weren't."
Another silence settled between you.
Not uncomfortable.
Just unexpected.
He rubbed the back of his neck, shook his head with a quiet chuckle, then looked back at you.
“You got a name?"
You told him your name. He repeated it once, slower, like he was committing it to memory.
"It suits you." he said.
You laughed quietly. "You don't even know me."
"No." He reached for a bottle of water, twisting the cap off before taking a long drink. "But I know you weren't here to be seen."
"What makes you think that?"
He shrugged. "You spent half the show watching the band."
"I was watching you." you whispered. That made him stop.
The bottle hovered halfway to the table before he set it down with a small laugh. "See?" he muttered. "There it is again."
"What?"
"You say things like that."
Your cheeks warmed instantly. "I didn't mean —"
"I know what you meant."
He leaned back against the table, crossing his arms.
"You've got no idea what it's like up there."
His voice had lost the edge it carried onstage.
"When you're playing to sixty thousand people, they all blur together after a while."
He looked at you.
"But every once in a while..."
He shook his head.
"One face sticks."
You didn't know what to say. The silence stretched until someone knocked on the door.
A stagehand poked his head inside.
"Car's outside whenever you're ready."
He waved him off without looking.
"'Kay."
The door closed again.
"You always ignore people like that?" you asked.
"They'll survive." he shrugged.
You laughed. He smiled to himself, almost pleased he'd gotten one out of you.
"You nervous?" he asked you.
You admitted, “A little."
"'Cause of me?"
"Wouldn't you be?"
He thought about it for a second before nodding. "Fair."
He pushed himself away from the table and wandered over to the couch, dropping into it with a tired sigh.
"C'mere."
You hesitated just long enough for him to notice.
"I'm not gonna bite."
"You say that like it's reassuring."
"It wasn't supposed to be."
You laughed again, walking over before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.
He looked between the empty space separating you. "Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"You look like you're interviewing for a job."
"I'm sitting backstage with my favorite singer."
"Yeah?"
"You expect me to act normal?"
He smiled, a real one this time, smaller than the cocky grin he'd been wearing all night.
"I was hoping you wouldn't."
For the first time since walking into the room, the nerves began to disappear.
He wasn't trying to impress you.
He wasn't performing anymore.
He was just... talking.
Like he'd known you longer than the last ten minutes.
And somehow, that made the room feel a whole lot smaller.
The room settled into a silence that wasn't awkward anymore.
It was the kind that made you aware of everything else.
The way he kept looking at you for a second too long before glancing away.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
"You always this quiet?"
"Only when I'm trying not to embarrass myself." you replied.
A laugh escaped him. "So you are nervous."
"I told you I was."
"Yeah."
He nodded, almost to himself.
"I just wanted to hear you say it again."
You looked over.
"Why?"
He shrugged.
'Cause most people come in here with a speech." you frowned, "What kind of speech?"
"You're amazing. "I've loved you forever. "Can you sign this?"
"And I didn't." you realised
"No." His eyes met yours again.
"You've mostly just looked at me."
You smiled. "So have you."
That pulled another grin from him.
"Fair enough."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I gotta ask."
"What?"
"What were you thinking?"
"When?"
"The whole show."
You hesitated.
"I don't know..."
"You do."
You looked down at your hands.
"I kept thinking..." The words caught in your throat. He waited.
Patiently. "...that you looked different than everyone says."
His eyebrows lifted.
"Different how?"
"They make you sound..."
You searched for the word.
..untouchable."
"And?"
"You didn't look untouchable."
Another pause.
"You looked lonely."
The smile disappeared from his face.
Not completely. Just enough.
His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before returning to you. "No one's ever said that."
"I almost didn't”
"I'm glad you did." His voice was quieter now. Almost lost beneath the noise outside.
Someone knocked again.
"You coming?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then, without taking his eyes off yours,
“Give me one hour."
A muffled groan came from the other side of the door before footsteps faded down the hall.
You laughed.
"They're gonna hate me."
"Nah."
"They definitely are."
"They'll get over it."
He stood, crossing the room toward the small fridge tucked beneath the counter.
"You want something to drink?"
He opened it before you could answer. "Water." He looked inside. “Beer.” Another pause "...Or something stronger."
He glanced back over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
"What'll it be?"
You thought for a second. "The stronger one."
A knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"I figured."
He reached into the cabinet above the counter, pulled down a bottle of whiskey that had already been opened sometime earlier in the night, and found two clean glasses buried beneath a stack of paper cups.
He poured without asking how much.
The amber liquid caught the light for a second before he handed one over.
ーーーー
By now, the whiskey had done its job.
Not enough that the room spun. Just enough that the sharp edges had disappeared.
The bottle sat between you on the coffee table, nearly empty.
You couldn't remember who'd poured the last round. Or who'd moved closer first.
Somewhere between the first drink and the fourth, the distance on the couch had quietly vanished. Your knees brushed every now and then when one of you shifted.
Neither of you acknowledged it.
Neither of you moved away.
Neither of you seemed interested in breaking the silence.
He exhaled through his nose, a faint, almost disbelieving laugh escaping with it.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I keep telling myself I should stand up, thank you for coming, and leave.”
“But…”
“But I haven’t moved.”
You glanced down at the nearly empty bottles on the table.“Maybe neither of us wants this night to end.”
His eyes lifted back to yours.
For a second, it felt like the room had shrunk—the sounds outside fading until there was only the quiet hum of the lights and the space between the two of you.
He leaned forward just enough that your heartbeat suddenly seemed much louder than the hallway outside.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“If I did something I’d probably spend tomorrow regretting…”
He let the question hang.
“…would you stop me?”
You didn’t answer right away.
You held his gaze instead.
“…No.”
The word came out quieter than you expected.
Axl didn’t ask again.
His eyes darkened.
The second you whispered “No,” he moved fast, decisive, like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t about to waste time.
In one fluid motion, his hand slid behind your neck. Not rough, but firm and yanked you forward. His lips crashed onto yours with zero hesitation : hot, demanding pressure that left no room for thought or retreat. You gasped.
His other arm banded around your waist instantly— holding you against him so tightly there was no space left between your bodies.
The kiss deepened fast. His mouth slanted over yours with practiced dominance.
And damn… did it feel good.
The kiss was all Axl, confident and commanding.
His fingers tangled in your hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your head just how he liked it as his tongue swept past your lips without asking permission.
It wasn’t gentle.
it was possessive.
You could feel the low hum of a groan vibrate from his chest into yours when you didn't pull away. Your hands fisted in the front of his shirt to keep yourself steady.
Axl noticed everything. The way you clung to him and it only made him bolder. He bit down on your lower lip lightly before diving back in for another searing kiss.
Axl broke the kiss only to trail his mouth along your jaw, before capturing your ear between his teeth. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough for you to gasp.
Then he whispered against your skin, voice dark and low,
"You taste even better than I imagined."
The words sent a shiver down your spine. And it hit you then: He’d imagined this.
Before tonight.
Before the concert.
Before he even knew your name.
His lips found yours again, slower this time, but no less hungry.
The kiss turned deeper, messier with want than dominance now. One hand cradled your jaw while the other stayed locked around your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish if he loosened his grip.
You kissed him back harder than before—no hesitation left in you—and that seemed to surprise him just enough that his breath hitched when you nipped at his bottom lip.
Axl Rose wasn’t supposed to be flustered.
But right now? He looked utterly wrecked by one girl who’d stood at the barricade all night screaming her lungs out for him.
He pulled back an inch and stared into your eyes.
the whiskey haze making everything softer but sharper too—and suddenly grinned that cocky half-smile everyone loved… except it wasn't performative anymore.
