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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
Norman feels alive. His blood is zinging in his veins with triumph. Marshall sits somewhat stiffly next to him. Norman easily senses his discomfort and in turn smoothes a hand across a tense thigh.
“That was fucking hot.” He tells him. The hand continues rubbing and squeezing and works its way closer to Marshall’s crotch.
“You think anyone saw us?” Paranoid little bitch.
“Nah.” Norman’s fingers work past the belt buckle and against the fly of the pants, giving him something else to think about. “We’re cool.”
Marshall pants instead of responding. Easy.
“I been waiting a long time to say hello to that fucker.” Norman chuckles, “Didn’t know what hit him, the bastard.”
Another huff of quiet breath as Norman’s fingers score their prize and start stroking slowly.
“Yeah, paybacks a bitch.”
Norman bucks suddenly as Marshall unexpectedly reciprocates and sets their rhythm much faster. It hurts to be gripped so tightly through his slacks but it feels good at the same time.
Marshall comes all over the dashboard and Norman almost goes off the road he’s laughing so hard.
***
They park on the side of a deserted road that seems to stretch out endlessly in both directions. Norman cuts the engine and roots around under his seat.
“I think we should go tie him up. I slugged him good but I just want to be safe. See if you see anything useful under your seat.”
“I have my belt.”
Norman smirks at him. Stops what he’s doing and sits up. His eyes are alight with mischief and he nods once.
“Your pants gonna fall down all over the place now?” He asks but takes the belt anyway.
Norman steps out of the car and goes back around to the trunk.
Marshall bends down and searches blindly under the seat, curious as to what he’ll find. His fingers snag a briefcase corner. It takes a second to maneuver it out. It’s black with cheap looking metal buckles. It opens easily.
“Fuuuck.” A low drawn out whisper. Marshall hears a thud from behind the car and feels it rock with some kind of impact. He quickly slams the suitcase shut again and shoves it back under the seat.
He whips his head around but the trunk is still open and blocking his entire view. It takes two punches to get the glove compartment to fall open.
“Piece of shit.” Marshall mutters as the gun slides out onto his palm. He kicks the rusty door open and holds the gun out ahead of him, ready for anything.
AN:
Line: Ruthless, is the perfect word. :) I'm so glad you're on LJ now. *hugs* :)
Blast: Hehe. *So flattered to be called creative* I lovea the slash too.
Lauralee: 'Restraint' happy to find you on LJ. :)- You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
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