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Whispers Two	By : Queenie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 6384 -:- 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
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Within minutes, the door had opened, and I saw Torio winking at me before Marshall stepped past him and into the room. Those blue eyes, the eyes I’d dreamed of for three months, fell on me, ran over my body and widened. (Widened? Why? In disgust? In shock? Oh, I wish I could read him better.) “Jason…”

“Right, well, I’ve just got to go work the bar,” Torio said brightly, giving us a little wave. “Jase, you know where I am if you need me.” He left quickly shutting the door behind him. I was surprised he didn’t lock it again.

I rolled onto my back on the desk and regarded Marshall upside-down. He was dressed quite conservatively, baggy jeans and a black button down shirt that seemed to hang off his frame. Was it just me, or had he lost weight too? His cheekbones looked a tiny bit more prominent, his eyes that much bigger. That lanky frame that I knew so well, had explored with my eyes and fingers and tongue, seemed a little gaunt, the muscles a little less defined. I wondered if he’d been ill.

He walked forward into the room a bit and then paused, as if he wasn’t suxactxactly what he was doing there. I gestured towards a chair and he sank into it gratefully, spreading his legs and slumping down in a way that made me want to drop to my knees before him and…No, Jason, stop thinking like that. Look, now you’re blushing, and you’re supposed to be in control. Shit, say something, then.

“Hi, Marshall,” I said in a soft, whispery voice. Fuck. Smooth. I sounded like I was trying to pick him up. All I needed to add was, ‘you lookin’ for some fun tonight, honey?’ Thankfully, I managed to hold back.

“Hey, Jason. You…you look good.”

I smiled and rolled back onto my stomach, propping my chin up in my hands as I looked at him. “Liar,” I said gently, “I look like crap.”

“Nah, you’re just a bit thin, that’s all,” Marshall replied diplomatically. “You still look good.”

“I looked better three months ago. I looked better two months ago. I looked better even one month ago. You should have seen me then.”

Marshall had the grace to blush and drop his eyes, studying his hands. I sat up, my legs dangling over the side of the desk. Seemed I couldn’t keep still for more than ten seconds at a time. “So, how’ve you been, honey?” I asked, getting a bit flirtatious to hide my nervousness. “You’re looking good too. Really good.”

He looked up in surprise, one eyebrow raised. I didn’t know what he’d expected, though. How was I supposed to act? I was just slipping into the role I played most often. He knew what I was.

“I lost some weight too,” he said, “Been so busy, y’know…ain’t got time for anything…” I got the feeling he was trying to make excuses. Bad excuses.

“That’s no good, sweetie,” I cooed, deciding to show no mercy, “You gotta have time to play as well as work, you know. Gotta have some time to relax. Like the night we spent together, I bet you felt sooo much better after that, right?”

Marshall’s eyes turned bitter, and he dropped them again. “Is that what that was to you? Just ‘playing?’”

That threw me for a minute. ‘No!’ I wanted to scream, ‘It was so much more! What was it to you?’ Instead, I changed tacks, giving him a sickly sweet smile.

“How’s Donna, Marshall?” I asked, “She in London?”

He looked as if I’d slapped him. Good. I wanted to hurt him, almost as much as I wanted to fall into his arms and just let him *hold* me, as if the last three months had never happened, and we were still in that hotel room together.

“Donna?” he choked out, “Nah, she’s in New York…Jason, look…”

“Oh, so you didn’t want her to come meet your rent boy? I guess I can understand that. You know, me being such a dirty little secret and all.” I could feel tears threatening, and I resolutely ignored them. I was on the attack here; I wasn’t going to break down.

Marshall was shaking his head. “You ain’t my dirty little secret, Jason,” he was saying earnestly, “Fuck, where’d you get that idea?”

“Oh, shit, Marshall, I don’t know. Maybe because I haven’t heard from you in three months? Maybe because I opened a magazine last night and saw you with some fucking bimbo from Dallas? An underwear model, Marshall. How far from me could you have possibly gotten?”

He stood up and came towards the desk, looking at me sadly. “I don’t love her, though, Jase,” he said, “She’s just some chic. I gottaseenseen with someone, you know, publicity…”

“Someone who’s not a boy,” I shot back resentfully, “What, have there been rumors, huh? Some people been saying that maybe Eminem isn’t as straight as he seems? Maybe someone saw us together. Donna a good cover, Marshall?” I cocked my head to the side, “She good in bed?”

“Oh come on, Jase, that ain’t fair.”

“Fair? Don’t fucking talk to me about fair, Marshall. I spent the last three months being in love with you, and-” I froze, realising what I’d just said. Shit. “Look, why the fuck are you even here? Why now?”

Marshall reached out and touched my face. It was like I’d been hit with a thousand volts of electricity, like his touch was lightning.

“You wanted to come home, Jason,” he said softly, “You’re the one who wanted to end it.” Surprisingly, he didn’t look like he was accusing me. He just looked sad.

“Yeah, but what were my options, Marshall? Follow you around hiding in hotel rooms, hoping that every now and then you’d have the time to see me? And you would have dated Donna, or someone else like her, anyway. Someone would have gotten suspicious, and you would have had to get a cover. What do you think that would have done to me?”

He cupped my face, looking down into my eyes. I noticed that he had tears in his. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well…” I tried to look away, but he held me firm.

“I wanted to come see you. Every day, I wanted to know how you were; I wanted to know that you were safe. I was so scared that stuff like what happened with the priest was till happening…or worse. But I couldn’t…I couldn’t come to you. I don’t know why.”

“You were scared of what you’d find,” I sighed, “You were scared that I wouldn’t be the same, right? You were scared that it wouldn’t be like those nights in New Orleans anymore. Because it’s so much easier to hold onto a fantasy than it is to actually try and live it.”

Marshall nodded and leaned his head down until his forehead rested against mine. “Yeah. I was a fuckin’ coward. But ver ver stopped wanting you, Jason. I fucking swear.”

Reaching around him, I held him like I’d wanted to for so long, pulling his body into mine. “Shit, Marshall, what are you trying to do to me, huh?”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” he whispered, and slowly, slowly brought his lips to mine, giving me the softest kiss, as if he were afraid that I‘d be bruised by the slightest pressure. I felt tears flood my eyes, tears of relief and pain and happiness all at once. And I knew that if had the chance, I was going to let myself get hurt on him again.

I just didn’t care, though. I couldn’t bring myself to think of tomorrow, or the next day, or next week. I couldn’t bring myself to think of the inevitable moment when Marshall was going to leave me and go back to Donna. My mind was stuck in the here an now, with him kissing me, still so gentle and sweet. I forgot the picture entirely. His public persona, the harsh manliness he tried to project, it all crumbled to dust in the face of that kiss. Christ. I still loved him.

And, me being me, as soon as the thought entered my head, I had to say it. “Marshall,” I said, pulling away and softly stroking his cheek, “I meant it. I’ve spent the last three months loving you. Sometimes I wish I’d stayed in America, for you.” He frowned and shook his head, but I kept on, “I’m serious. I loved you. I wanted to be with you.”

“Jase…don’t play me…” I almost laughed, we were both so insecure, we were each sure the other was going to hurt us. And maybe we would, maybe we’d both fuck up again. But why did that matter now? Why did that have to be the issue?

“I’m not. I went out and I bought your albums, just so I could hear your voice. Whenever I saw a magazine with you in it, I had to get it. I’ve been acting like a teenage girl, you know?” I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. Marshall grinned back at me.

“Well, you look like a teenage girl…” he started, and I lightly punched him in the stomach. He grabbed my hand and held it there, looking deep into my eyes. “Thought you weren’t into that?”

I almost felt like crying as I remembered our old joke, the words that had cracked the ice the first time we met. I spread out my fingers, feelins sts stomach which was still satisfyingly hard, the muscles tight, just like I remembered. Oh, god, oh god…for the first time, it dawned on me that I could possibly sleep with him again tonight. The thought left me breathless.

My hand slipped around his side, squeezing him, drawing him still closer. I kissed his chest, flashing my eyes up at him as he gazed down at my face. I couldn’t quite read his expression. His hands came up to bury in my hair, cradling my head gently. “Jason,” he started, “I care about you. A lot. More than pretty much everyone else in my life except my fuckin’ daughter. But I don’t know if we should be doin’ this…”

“You kissed me,” I stated simply, pulling back a little, “You started ‘this’”

He nodded, his fingers stroking my hair. God it felt good. Marshall. Standing before me. Touching me like he really did care. It was the kind of fantasy whore’s like myself never let themselves have, to be honest. You can’t be disappointed by something you never let yourself think about, right? If love’s just a dream, just make-believe, then, the theory goes, you don’t get upset when it’s constantly taken away from you, dangled in your face and snatched away. Love wasn’t supposed to happen to rent boys. But here it was, and I was still almost too scared to believe in it.

“How could I not?” Mall all said, “How could I not kiss you…I…” he paused, looked away, “I…”

He couldn’t say it. But I knew what he meant, and I didn’t try to force it out of him. I was happy with what I had.

“I know,” I soothed, “So what’s the problem?”

His face went red and he lowered his eyes. “Donna.” he mumbled apologetically, “I mean, I’m still with her and junk…”

I froze, feeling my face go hard. Donna. Right. “I thought you didn’t care about her,” I said stiffly.

“I don't care about her the way I care about you, Jase. But she's still there. She's still hanging around,” he replied, his cheeks still stained red. I sighed and looked away.

“You can make her stop hanging around. You can make that choice.”

“She thinks I love her. And I need a cover. And if I could I'd get rid of her and live with you forever and ever and make you the happiest man alive. But...” he paused, reaching up to twine a lock of his hair around his fingers. He looked so sad I wanted to cry. “I'm not so sure it can happen.”

I gave him a small, bitter smile. “Of course it can't. I don't expect that, and I never have. But I'm not talking about forever, I'm talking about now.” I touched his face, his lips. “What we're feeling right now, Marshall, I don't want to waste that.”

“You could do that? You could spend the night with me even though it'll hurt later on?” Of course, I thought, and I’m already counting on it hurting.

“I don't want to think about later on. I love you. That's all that matters. Isn’t it?” I held my breath as I waited for his reply. He could so easily cut me down right here.

Marshall shook his head. “I wish I could believe that, Jase. I really do.”

I winced, pulling away from him. Not exactly what I’d wanted to hear. “So am I just dreaming here? Or what? I want you, Marshall. But you gotta make a decision.”

He ran his hand through his hair, giving me that petulant, little boy look he seemed to wear in most of his photos. “Don't push that on me, Jase. I can't decide the fucking future, you know that.” I was about to protest when he pressed his finger to my lips, pulling me back into his arms. “But seeing as how I gotta make a decision. I wanna spend tonight with you. Just you, Jase. I can't know about tomorrow, so just for tonight, will you come home with me?”

I stared at him, my heart nearly pounding its way out of my chest. I’d never wanted anng mng more in my life. I kissed him, I couldn’t help it. “That's all I'm asking for, Marshall. I'll take what I can get. I'll take whatever you want to give me.”

He buried his face in my neck at those words, sighing softly. “Jason. I *want* to give you the fuckin’ world.”

“Than I'll take whatever you *can* give me. And consider myself the luckiest boy in the world,” I whispered, “Don’t you get that yet?”

“But you deserve so much more-”

I cut him off. “Fuck what I deserve. I know what I want.” I looked into his bright blue eyes, so much more open then mine. Less guarded. And despite the age difference, his were so much more innocent. Not nearly as desperate. “I want you.”

We kissed again, everything forgotten except our lips pressed together. None of it mattered, not really. The last three months, tomorrow, Donna, all the pain we were inevitably going to cause each other…all the things that coned ted to keep us apart were swept away.

I was with him for the moment. That was all I needed.
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Whispers Two