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Adjusting	By : Bia Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 7351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Eminem (Marshall Mathers). I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
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JC strode down the hotel hallway, determinedly ignoring Justin following him. Justin'd been doing it all day; he hadn't been left alone since their earlier interview. No matter how he tried to avoid him, Justin stubbornly persisted in clinging to him. As if by being in his face all day and the majority of the night, Justin could get him to change his mind. Not that 'that' was happening.

"Jayce, baby. Please," began Justin again.

JC sighed, coming to a halt before his door. He resisted the urge to bang his head against it. Barely. Eyes closed, he took several deep breaths, head dropping to the door. One had on the handle, key card out, the other braced against the sill. Justin hovering behind him. "Nothing you say is going to help. I know, I said I understood about Brit. I do, and I accept it. But I will not be the fucking warm-up for your date."

Justin moved closer. His breathing picked up, and he had to fight not to hyperventilate.

"Oh, baby. That's not it. I only want to spend tonight with my man before I have to go play the good boy for Brit and the press."

JC shuddered as Justin's breath, brushed across the back of his neck. Eyes snapping open, he turned his head gaze landing on the fading bruises. He frowned. He had a right to be upset. Didn't he? Yes. Why should Britney get the sweet kisses, and soft touches?

"I'm pissed, Justin. I think you can at least allow me that. It's three o'clock in the damn morning. In exactly five hours, you're going to be serving an elaborate breakfast to Britney. You are then going to spend all goddamn day lavishing attention on her." Despite the softness of his voice, every word screamed his anger.

"Which will culminate in an evening of wine and candles as you play the devoted boyfriend to someone other than me. Right now, there is shit you can say to make me want you. So goodnight," hissed JC as he straightened. Deliberately dismissing Justin as he slid the card key into the slot. He pushed open the door, intending to slip inside and shut Justin out. Except a foot was blocking the closing door. "Justin," growled JC. He didn't want to do anything so undignified as struggle over the door. But if Justin didn't move his foot that was exactly what he was going to do.

"You don't mean that, Jayce. Love," said Justin, quietly. JC paused in his bid to shut the door, glancing up to meet Justin's eyes. The pale blue gaze was dark with some unnamed emotion. JC shivered, suddenly wanting to do nothing but hide. There was something dark in Justin's gaze. A wave of fear washed over him, and he faltered. Justin perhaps sensing the distraction shoved hard. JC stumbled back. Justin slipped inside, locking the door the moment he was all the way in.

Unaware of the action, JC slid his hands under his shoulders. "Justin this isn't helping," he said, slowly. Instinct kicked in as he watched Justin pace. His tone shifted, becoming decidedly less belligerent. He turned walking away a few steps, trying for nonchalant as he toed of his shoes. Suddenly uneasy he couldn't keep it up, turning to face Justin.

"You don't want me," said Justin, the words a bare whisper.

JC tensed, he could hear the rage lurking beneath. He started backing away, fighting panic as Justin matched him step for step. They crossed the room that way; JC inching away like a cornered mouse as Justin stalked. Unaware, uncaring of where his feet carried him as long as it was away from Justin. "Justin, you know that's not what I meant," he said quickly, trying to placate his lover. "I didn't mean it like that. I always want you. I just meant I wasn't in the mood."

He hoped Justin would take that as the peace offering it was meant to be. He looked up, peering through lowered lashes at Justin hoping he'd be appeased. Something inside him cringed at what was in his lover's eyes. "Justin," he tried again. "Please." Holding up his hands as much to ward him off, as in supplication.

Justin lunged, and JC called himself all kinds of fools for letting his guard down as his wrists were caught in the huge hands. Instinctively yanking back, even though he knew it was futile. It'd been years since he could break Justin's grip. His shoulder rammed into the bedroom door and he stilled. "Jus, baby. I'm sorry," he whispered, pleading. Panic was beginning to rear its head. He didn't know why. This was his lover. Justin would never seriously hurt him. Except he was disturbingly silent. "Justin, please say something."

"You don't want me," Justin hissed again. JC was beginning to think uttering those words was a big mistake. "Your mine, JC. You don't get to decide you don't want me."

This was not good. JC began to seriously struggle in Justin's grip, yanking desperately. All it did was send them falling through the bedroom door, tumbling onto the floor. Justin splayed on top of him. In seconds his wrists were pinned to the floor. Justin slowly pushed himself up. JC wanted to scream at what he saw in Justin's gaze. This was not happening. "Oh, please. Justin. NO."

Justin said nothing, sliding one big thigh between his. He lowered his head, mouthing up the curve of JC's neck. Dropping soft kisses along the length. Until he came to his ear. "Mine, JC. Anytime I want you. And I want you now," growled Justin, teeth clamping down on the pale lobe.

JC yelped at the unexpected burst of pain. Then Justin's mouth was moving again. Brushing across his throat. Nibbling gently at his collarbone. JC squirmed as the teeth pressed down harder, and harder. Stopping just before the skin broke. "You want me, Jayce. You always want me," murmured Justin, grinding down onto JC.

Maybe this was his fault, 'cause Justin was used to him giving in. He just had to make Justin understand he was serious. "Justin, stop. I'm not giving in this time. Not here. Not now. I don't want to make love." JC shuddered feeling the heavy length pressing into his belly. Praying, his lover would listen. Justin pulled back, staring down at him. JC nearly sobbed in relief. He was getting through. Justin let go of one wrist, it took everything in him not to buck up and throw Justin off. He didn't want to risk setting Justin off. "Just not tonight, Jus. Tomorrow, okay," he offered, pleading.

Hoping the acquiescence and the knowledge that he could have him later would get placate him. JC tried to slow his breathing, calming himself in the hopes it would spread to Justin. Justin let go of his other wrist. JC's eyes closed in relief as he felt Justin stand. He opened them to see Justin, staring down at him. He clambered to his feet, ignoring the outstretched hand, using the bed to pull himself up. He really didn't want to be touched right now.

"Okay," he panted, softly. Mind whirling in frantic circles. He needed to get the hell away from Justin before he snapped. "Okay. I'm gonna go shower," he said, slowly. Not taking his eyes of Justin as he inched around the bed, seeking the dubious safety of the bathroom.

"Get in bed," said Justin, tugging off his shirt.

JC stilled not believing what he was seeing. "Justin did you not understand what I said," he cried.

Justin tossed his shirt aside, unzipping his jeans. "I heard. But I know you don't mean it. You never mean it when you say no to me," Justin said, quietly.

JC didn't think. He lunged for the bathroom. Not wanting to waste precious time, he scrambled over the bed. Kicking back as one big hand clasped his ankle. His socked foot, landing only weak blows. His legs were yanked from beneath him; he hit the bed. Before he could gain his feet, he was flipped over.

Justin dropped onto him, crushing him into the mattress, using his entire body to hold him down.

"Justin. Fucking Hell! I said no! I meant NO. Get the fuck offa me," he roared, bucking beneath the heavier body. Trying his damndest to throw his lover off. He swung out at him, but Justin quickly caught his wrists. Pinning them above him with one big hand.

"I don't like this game your playing," hissed Justin, head darting down.

JC cried out as teeth broke skin. He shuddered as the tongue lapped against his neck.

"You don't say no to me," Justin growled. His free hand skimmed down the body trembling beneath his. He paused at the open collar of the shirt. Fingers brushing over the pale throat, before encircling it.

JC went still, not even breathing as the calloused fingers closed around his throat. He swallowed heavily as Justin's thumb pressed against his Adam’s apple. Pressing, then releasing. Again. Again. "Justin, please. No."

The hand moved on, as Justin shifted upwards, straddling him. "You don't mean it," he murmured.

Hand pausing at the shirt, he ripped it open. Then moved down to the waist of JC's jeans. He flicked open the button flies, slowly. His hand slid inside the opening. JC whimpered as the rough hand, slid around his cock. Justin smiled down at him; JC wasn't wearing any underwear either. He stroked him, dragging a nail down the length, giving a light scratch at the head. JC panted, hating himself. His body for responding. "No," he whimpered.

"You shouldn't say things you don't mean, Jayce." He squeezed. JC shrieked.

Justin let up, stroking again. Lowering his head again, as he slowly tongued at JC's nipples. Moving back and forth between them, as he suckled at the buds. Nipping until they were a cherry red.

JC sobbed as his mind rebelled against what was happening.

"Lift up, Jayce."

JC shook his head. He wasn't giving in. Not this time. Justin sighed, and tsked as if he were a recalcitrant child.

JC gasped as pain shot through his all ready bruised wrists. The pain sharp, and intense as Justin's nails dug into his flesh. JC fought to get away from it. Struggling, bucking like a frightened horse. Justin yanked at his jeans. Realizing what was happening JC stopped, trying to press back into the mattress. Too late. Justin had gotten a good grip on the waist band, and with a another yank had them down to his knees. He stared up into the implacable gaze. This was going to happen. Justin wasn't going to stop. "No," he moaned, eyes pleading. "Oh, please don't. Justin. No. I don't want you."

Justin's gaze darkened. The hand was at his throat, and he hadn't seen it move. "But I want you. And you're mine." Justin let go of his wrists, and JC's hands swung up. The hand squeezed, and dots danced before his eyes. His hands dropped. Justin tugged his own jeans off, the grip never loosening. He kicked his shoes off, followed by the jeans. JC closed his eyes. "You'll change your mine. You always do," Justin crooned, then thrust.

JC screamed.

He lay passively in Justin's embrace. Praying that the silence in his head would last just a little bit longer. Just another few minutes. Despite their positions, he was pinned to the larger man's side, wrists clasped in a surprisingly tight grip for someone asleep, he could see the clock. 6:59 a.m. Twenty minutes of this special hell left. Though he'd been expecting it, he stiffened when the alarm went off and Justin shifted against him. Closing his eyes, he forced his breathing to slow, clinging to the pretense of sleep. One thought making it's way past the darkness, ‘Please God just let him leave.'

When Justin went into the bathroom, JC let go the breath he'd been holding. He lay there. Once again thinking of nothing. Mind deliberately blank. Trying just to hold on. The shower cut off and he closed his eyes again. He listened to Justin dress, ears focused on every move Justin made. Aware with something beyond sight, or hearing of Justin's position in the room. He shuddered as he sensed movement toward him. Stilling as Justin hovered over him. He waited, breathlessly for what he didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore. He didn't think there was anything else Justin could do to him.

Justin leaned down, and JC couldn't stop his eyes from opening. He had to see. The bright blue eyes he'd fallen in love with stared seemingly guilelessly into his. Justin moved closer. JC forced himself still. Justin pressed a kiss to his mouth, tongue demanding entrance. JC went slack, as he struggled not to hurl. "I'll see you later, baby." Justin grinned down at him, pulling back. Without another word he was gone.

As the door closed, his body curled in on itself. Tears he'd held back for the last three hours slid down his face. In the silence the shadows shattered. Everything came pouring in.

"Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god," he muttered, hysterically. He began to shake uncontrollably. "Oh, god. Please, make it go away."

He tried desperately to sink back into the numbness. Go away. Go away, he screamed silently at the images flooding his brain. But they didn't. No they played relentlessly across the landscape of is mind. Surround sound. Technicolored Images. Whether his eyes were open or close. Oh god. What just happened to me? I said no. No. Oh god, I said no and he didn't stop. Justin didn't stop. Oh god, he rap-- NO. No. I wasn't. I wasn't. Your lover can't rap-- Bullshit hissed a strange dark voice. That fucker raped you.

JC cried out in pained denial, "I wasn't raped. I wasn't. Justin--" He couldn't breathe. His body rebelled in panic, curling in tighter. Forcing air into his lungs. Pain lanced up his spine, and he bit down on a scream.

tearing. burning. huge.

Denial fell away. "hurt me," whimpered JC. "He hurt me. He ra- He raped me. How am I alive? Why aren't I dead? How can I feel like this and still be breathing? Maybe I'm not. Maybe this is hell. I'm dead. And all those rightwing homophobes were right. I'm in hell and my lover raping me is my eternal punishment."

He giggled hysterically at the ridiculousness of hoping he were in hell. Hell was a five star hotel. For a popstar. The giggles turned into shrieks of laughter. Then he was sobbing. "What am I gonna do? Dear God what do I do? How do I live like this? Do I want to live like this?" He paused at the thought. Turning it over in his head. Examining it from every angle. Could I do it? Could I? Look at me. Look at me. I'm lying here stinking of blood and cum. Dirty. Feeling like filth. I could-- I could--

JC shoved the thought away with an inarticulate scream. Burying it in the depths of his subconscious. Turning away from the pain. Turning away before it killed him. Instead having reminded himself of his physical sate, he climbed out of the bed.

"Shower. Get clean," he muttered, unconsciously. Never be clean again. Never. He turned away from the thoughts. Shuffling carefully into the bathroom. He leaned into the shower turning on the hot water as high as it would go. Climbing beneath the spray he hissed as the water beat down on the cuts. He scrubbed for what seemed like hours, unaware of the growing redness as the heat burned the fair skin. It's only when his body protests the strain of standing up for such a long time, does he climb out. If he could've he'd have stayed beneath the drowning heat forever. Despite the heat, he shivered as he moved back into the bedroom.

Digging through the drawers he found his loosest boxers pulling them and a faded turtle neck on. Over that he put on his oldest pair of sweats. He straightened slowly, his gaze landed on the bed and its blood stained sheets. Suddenly unable to stand the sight of it, he stripped the bed. Tossing the sheets into the bathtub, he slammed the door. He came to a stop in the middle of the room. He had no idea what to do now. A chill ran up his spine, he turned abruptly to the closet and dug out the extra blankets.

Covers in hand he headed into the suite's living room. He paused glancing at the door. With a shudder he hurried to it, sliding the security chain into place. That done, he climbed onto the couch, wrapping himself in the blankets. He pulled the covers over his head like a child hiding from the dark. What just happened to me?
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