By Azrielen the Addict
(Rated NC-17 for drugs and m/m sex)

Title: "Smokey Blues"
Author: Azrielen The Addict
E-mail: jlpknights82@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex
Archive: Yes to any lists I send it to. Anyone else, just keep my name attached and tell me where it's going! :)
Series: I don't think so....
Disclaimers: The members of Aerosmith are their own people, but they sold their souls with their music to Geffen Ent. and Sony World Music Corp.

Notes: My favorite band in the entire world is Aerosmith, so naturally they were all I could think about when I first came across slash as an art form. I just had to. It's probably not the least bit good, but hell, it's my first try! Enjoy my twisted version of band slash! The title comes from a line in a story by MonaR that originally referred to Joe, a character from Highlander, but I thought it was about Joe Perry! Why? 'Cause I was stupid, okay? "Young Lust" used w/o permission.)

"SMOKEY BLUES"

1971 - Boston, Massachusettes - 1325 Commonwealth Ave.

'''EEEEEaaaaa-ohahaeeeeeeee eeee-nynyaaaheeeeeeeuuuooooo...thrummmmm...'''

Joe sighed and sagged against the chair, his back arched over the saddle of the scratchy guitar he death-gripped, painted the apropriate shade of blue. The last note was still ringing when Brad sat on the little amp, muffling it. They were all breathing a little harder. Steven stared at the long fingers of the guy he'd known for almost 10 years in awe. He'd played that same damned solo a hundred times, but never quite like that - never quite with so much heart.

Joe's fingers moved, breaking Steven's stare. He looked up, long black curls of hair, wet and falling into his eyes. He was breathing hard, his face and eyes animal, mammalian, Steven had always thought. They were glossed over with sweat and tinged that slight piss yellow from 'ludes and beer. He was staring straight at Steven.

"Fuckhead."

Steven started breathing again, clenching his teeth. "What the hell do ya' mean!?"

Joe said, just as low and confident as ever, thick with Boston accent, "You quit singin' five bahs shaht ya' fuck!" Joe's eyes glittered with both hurt and pride. He was playing with Steven and the other three in the room knew it. Tom snickered from the corner, setting off the whole room. Steven guffawed and Joe smiled - he was never given to laughing out loud. Not cool enough for him. Steven thought he was been a jackass, but he'd never tell him. Besides, Max's was tonight and they'd all need to be as cool as possibly. Suits and Salesmen would be everywhere at Max's Kansas City and Steven could smell record deal in the air...and he wanted it bad.

Joe leaned up, grabbing Steven's shoulder, slapping then hugging him, smiling. They began quickely to pack everything up. Rehearsal had been long and hard, pumping them up for the two make-or break sets that were just four hours away. The basement of the apartment building, their rehearsal grounds for the last year, was hot as hell - right next to the boiler room. The chill air outside was welcome as the look the amps and instruments outside. They and the compact little drummmer, Joey, began hoisting the equipment into the waiting beat-up hulk of a van outside, newly purchased from some group of hippies down the street. Garish yellow flowers ran up it sides. Joey nearly gagged every time he saw them.

Upstairs, the pre-show party was starting, not to be eclipsed by the drug-riddled post-show party that was a tradition, no matter how badly they sucked at the gig. Steven had managed to 'liberate' some brownies and fudge from the market down the street and had consumed about a pound of his deadliest addiction - sugar. The rush, he'd always said, was *almost* as good as sex. Presently he was smirking and saying the same thing.

Tom was tossing brownie peices at Joey with Brad caught in the middle, trying to kill both of them. Steven and Joe were very close together in the only other chair in the apartment. The contact was not unwelcome. Brad walloped Tom and Joey straight across the face, stunning then for only a second before they both tackled Brad, pushing him over the back of the couch. Joey slammed down with him.

Steven's smirk grew into a grin. He started to giggle, crossed his eyes. Joe chalked it up to ODing on sugar and grinned a little himself. Joey and Tom smacked each other around some more, Brad raided the empty refrigerator. A small whiff of Tom's marijuanna hit Steven, making him laugh harder. Joe told him he needed a nap and was completely ready to tie him to the bed if nessecary. The chuckling lead singer was brought up short - not a common thing.

"Would you?" he asked, raising one eyebrow and looking for all he was worth like Mr. Spock. Joe did not think it was funny and slurred something nasty in thick Bostonian and maybe a little Yidish that roughly translated to 'perverted weasel.' He took Steven's arm, leading him, not without protest, to their shared bedroom in back of the small apartment. Steven giggled the whole way, squirming as sugar pulsed through his bloodstream.

The door was stuck, leaving Joe trying to push it open, but instead hitting into it face first ("SHIT!"). Steven laughed again, even though he'd been in front of Joe and had hit into the door as well. The wiry singer leaned against the door as Joe cussed colorfully and tried to find the doorhandle again. Their thighs brushed as Joe wrapped his arm around his friends back to find the handle. They froze - Steven stopped laughing, but smirked deeply. Something that sounded like a purr came from deep in his throat. He laughed that deep blues-singer laugh that was a to be trademark.

Never in his whole life had Joe been actually close to Steven, physically. They'd been the best of friends a long time, but unless they were fighting, they usually kept eack other at arms length. Not now. Steven lips were wet against Joe's ear, his tongue snaking out of its hiding place to clip his earlobe. Joe groaned low, leaned unconsciously against his friend...friend? They wanted more - they both knew it. Thin hands wrapped their way around Joe's waist, feeling his muscled frame, the tight demin stretching over his ass...

The door gave.

Steven tumbled wheeling unto the floor, tripping Joe along with him, landing smack against his back in the entrance to the little room. The door hit the wall and Joe kicked it shut, pissed off and growling. Their legs were tangled - neither could get up. Steven was giggling again and Joe was getting annoyed with him. He grunted, trying to slide off him. Steven yanked him back, stubborn as ever - their lips hit.

Nothing mattered anymore - not the gig, not the other three in the living room, not Joe's or Steven's current girlfriends. Their tongues slid against one another, hot and moist against the roof of each others mouths, raking against sharp little teeth. A hot dance. Steven wrapped his legs around Joe's thighs and pulled him down, pressing their chests together as they kissed. He was already erect and breathing hard by the time Joe picked him up by his shirt and all but threw him on the bottom bunk bed. Their boots clunked against the wooden rails at the bottom of the bed as he began to shed clothes, his own cock stiffening and rampant. Steven's clothes came off easier - all he'd been wearing was a denim vest and *very* tight jeans - deliciously hard to get off - no underwear. The cold air of the unheated apartment and the Massachusettes dusk slammed into the hot flesh Joe discovered with every tug at the demin. Steven moaned and grinned widely, no longered caught in a sugar-high, but truly wanting every bit of it. Every bit of Joe.

Every bit of Steven was beautiful, though he was skinny (There was really no better way to put it) - wraith-like and lovely. *Every* inch. Steven was flushed almost as deeply red as his cock was, hard and beginning to weep glistening cum. He couldn't take it anymore. Joe's pants hit the floor and his lips hit the red skin of Steven's thighs. Once again they moaned. Joe cock was purpled, wanton. They shifted, Steven throwing Joe over on his side and moving down, taking some of the control. He stared at Joe's dick as he licked him - blowing him as if he'd done it a hundred times before.

Hell, maybe he had, Joe thought. He snorted in amusement and then gasped when Steven squeezed his cock - *hard*. He couldn't help it. He jammed Steven's protesting mouth down on his cock, forcing it into his throat. The protests stoped as juicy pre-cum dripped down Steven's lips and onto Joe's throbbing thighs. Both men worked hard at each other, Steven sucking harder with each thrust into his throat. Joe was close and Steven knew it. Though the deeply caloused hand tangled in his auburn hair pushed, he took his mouth off Joe's dick and crawled over him into a delicious 69, lingering to looking into his black eyes, his bronzed Italian-mobster features - running a finger across ever-brooding eyebrows. Joe gobbled Steven's thick cock hungrily as he dicked his large, chapped lips, working his hands up to grab the singers ass.

Sweat and pre-cum lubed his thumb as he followed the line to the pink softness of Steven's ass, feeling it tighten and release as he pressed it. Steven gasped and almost bit down. Joe's dick twitched - wether in fear or pleasure he wasn't sure. The pure evil in Joe made him push hard on that pink bud, sliding his thumb into Steven's tight ass, then a finger, then two! His senses were filled with delicious sex - a smell that filled the room, Steven's hard cock in his throat. Joe felt his balls tighten. The wiry body above him jerked as Joe found the enticing soft lump of his prostate and *pushed*, nailing him. Steven screamed, muffling it by sucking down Joe's bulging dick to the hilt, wrapping his teeth around the base. The fire quickened in him.

They exploded - sheer meltdown. Steamy cum shot into Joe's mouth, so much so fast he couldn't take it. It splattered his face and hair. His thumb was caught in Steven spasming, tight ass. He could taste the sweet heat pouring over his tongue in quick bursts as it triggered him. Steven choked as Joe combusted in his throat, swallowing hard and sucking, milking every last drop of cum from him. Joe took his fingers from Steven ass and rubbed his dick, licking the juices off of him as he softened. Steven licked his lips and moaned deep in his throat as he buried his face into Joe's balls, finishing him off, rimming him mercilessly until he groaned deeply in satisfaction.

They lay there for some time, feeling the sticky-sweet wetness of the cum between them. Steven sat up and slid around the lump of strewn covers. His tongue snaked again from between his lips and he smiled as he tongued Joe's neck and ears, licking up tiny droplets of his own warm cum off Joe's grinning lips. He felt Joe's own tongue come darting out to dance once more with his. He kissed him as the guitarist ran his fingers through Steven's soaked, wild hair and they smiled, just loving the warmth of their bodies against one another. Joe sighed that sigh again, Steven purred.

They cleaned each other off - Tom, Joey, and Brad had all fallen asleep while they were...busy. Tongues were used more profusely than towels. When they emerged from the bathroom, Tom was just barely awake, sculking about in the middle of a hangover, slightly green. He'd be fine by that night. Brown rices and something old and green, bot thankfully moldless, was the main course Steven served up - the same thing they always ate, simply because it was all they could really afford. Steven dreamed out loud of the time when they could actually tell someone to make them food and it would happen; when steak would be something you didn't just smell in restaurants. As usual, they ignored him.

Old worries began to creep up on the five of them - Max's, record deald, suits... And a new one, at least for Steven and Joe...a delicious 'what if'. As in what if it had not been a one-time thing. What if... Steven glanced at Joe as they raided the fridge. Joe made a point of brushing against him reaching for almost-moldy bread - Steven began to chuckle again and this time Joe followed.

Smoke and blues filled Max's small club, and smokey blues poured from the postage-stamp sized stage. "Mother Popcorn" figured into the set and more blues followed a hard-on rendition of "Somebody" that led into a fast an furious, heart-felt "Make It." Steven couldn't help but stare at those damned fingers again - fingers much more talented at more than the guitar! He licked his lips and screamed into the mike, angst-ridden and delicious thoughts pouring into his music. The PA system was ringing even as the five signed the record deal Steven had dreamed of. Max's had proven itself again to be a launchpad for the Boston-based. Tonight they'd actually have something to celebrate, and even though the groupies were already there and waiting, Steven had his eyes on Joe the whole night, and vice versa.

Haven't you ever wondered why those two sing so closely together at the same mike so often? *EG*

I thought this was kinda appropriate - plus it's a great song! I've noticed a lot of slash based around songs, or including one at the end. Here's my try:

"Young Lust" - Aerosmith

Young Lust
Happy just to be in lust
Never have to eat
no dust
Everybody talk about

Young Lust
You're
Dying in the streets but inside
You're guilty way before you've been tried
It's crazy but you're digging it

Oh . . .
Young Lust
You're feeling it - the summertime blues
Are easy when there's nothing to loose
And baby you're releasing out

Young Lust
Sometimes you need it so bad
It's enough to drive a young girl mad
So what you gonna do about it?

Little bit of nasty
You look a little sleazy
Now don't get any on you

Young Lust
You better keep your daughter in sight
Or she's gonna get a dose of my pride
Everybody talks about it

Young Lust
Once you've had it you can never go back
Don't you ever let then give you no slack
When you're sneaking down the alleyway

Checking out the ladies
That didn't bring their boyfriends
Who love to get in trouble
I've got to say I'll see you later
Meet me in the elevator!

Always getting stronger
Never getting weaker
My love is getting longer
I'm keeping it a secret
Never keep a secret
Never been guilty
Never getting lonely
Never getting no peace
Hiding from the police

Streaking out the back way
Streaking down the alleyway
Gotta do it my way
Do it in the sunshine
Hanging from the clothesline
Find another tree to clime

Young Lust
There's no time for loving
Young Lust
Don't even want any other
Young Lust
I'm a-pushing and a-shoving it

Young Lust
Come on now I just can't wait
Hold you fishing or you're gonna get bait
Everybody-body doing it

Young Lust
Honey now we leave it to bitch
Sometimes you gotta scratch that itch
So what you gonna do about it?

Love always to you all,
The Addict Azrielen
(J.L.P.)
C. 1999