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Bus Stop
By : Zilo
Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers
Views: 2043 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: 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
Marshall’s jaw drops open slightly with surprise. He thinks he may have been about to say something, but Norman’s teeth bump into his lower lip and a tongue slides into his mouth before he gets the chance.
He doesn’t stop anything from happening.
Norman’s on top of him, hips rhythmically thrusting. Marshall’s to drunk too get hard but his heart races with the thrill of being so out of control. He wonders briefly where the gun is.
When Norman comes it’s with a whispered grunt and he slumps over on him like a rag doll. Marshall rolls him off and pants quietly in the dark waiting for him to do something. He feels eyes on him and tries to meet them.
“Why were you goin’ to kill yourself?” The voice is quiet and still breathless.
He doesn’t have the words. He wants Norman to obliterate his thoughts again, not bring them crashing back into his head.
This time he brings their mouths together. It burns and hurts but feels so right.
***
Marshall wakes up before the sun has risen. He’s surprised Norman hasn’t left yet. His limp body lies next to him, mouth half open and snoring quietly.
Marshall goes looking for the gun.
The piece is somewhat heavy in his hand, comfortable. He slides the barrel across his cheek to feel the coolness of the metal.
A voice behind him startles him. “It’s too early in the morning to blow your brains out. Want to get some breakfast?”
He whirls around on the balls of his feet, gun now pointing at Norman’s bare chest. The other man continues to smirk, unfazed.
“You don’t think I’d do it?” Marshall asks as he stares into dark eyes. Norman shrugs. Marshall points the gun under his own chin and whispers; “Think you could get out of this clean?”
Norman shakes his head slowly, eyes locked on bright blue ones. “If you’ve got nothing to lose then why not hang with me for a while? Could be fun...”
Marshall’s hand moves in slow motion. The gun eventually finds its way to the nearest flat surface, a coffee table.
They’re too sober for this but Norman pushes him up against the nearest wall anyway. He shoves his knee up hard between Marshall’s legs and lets him ride it as he grinds his teeth on an ear and quietly tells him; “I unloaded the bullets last night anyway. We don’t have to tell anyone at that diner though. Maybe we could even steal a car and make it to the next city.”
Marshall bites his shoulder and Norman holds his hips steady as he comes.
“Okay. Let’s get breakfast.”
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