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Just For Tonight	By : mynx Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 2163 -:- 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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Surely he’d hallucinated that last line. “What?”

A nonchalant shrug. “Come in.”

Trent wordlessly followed him inside, the posh, yet extravagant surroundings doing little to deter him from his current study of Eminem. Still engulfed by clothing, he couldn’t help but ponder what he’d look like underneath it. Trent couldn’t recall any recent pictures of Eminem where he hadn’t been absorbed by layers of brand names, so he tried using his imagination. Except that prompted some rather explicit imagery that, despite his earlier hatred of Eminem, made Trent’s pants feel more confining than usual.

“Somethin’ wrong?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Trent offered a crooked smile, raising his brows when Eminem picked up the wall phone and began dialing.

“I’ll be a minute.” Raising the phone to his ear, he reclined against the wall, a faint smile tugging at his full lips as he rested his award on a nearby tabletop. “Hey, sweetie. Did you see Daddy win tonight?”

It was so incredibly surreal, Trent thought - the scene that played out before him. Eminem – no, Marshall; he was confusing them again - taking his voice down a notch, words of reassurance and love spilling out of his mouth as he spoke with his daughter. His tone was light and laughing, his eyes glittered like stardust.

Now, he wasn’t Ghetto Superstar, or Slim Shady, or Eminem, or even Marshall Mathers.

He was a father.

What a lucky man, to feel loved by something he created - something his music could never return. Tried as he did, Trent couldn’t squelch the tiny stab of jealousy at the bond between parent and child, the bond that turned Ghetto Superstar into Mister Rogers.

“Tell mommy I said hi, okay?”

He looked older once he uttered those words, Trent thought. The world weighed down on his shoulders again, and his expression was still, and nearly melancholy.

“Love you, too, Hailie. Night night.”

The smile returned as he hung up the phone, but it carried a hint of sadness that spoke more volumes than his flapping mouth ever could. Never mind that he felt intrusive at having witnessed Eminem’s conversation with his daughter, but now Trent was downright uncomfortable in his presence.

“Umm--”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he interrupted before Trent could manage another syllable. “I promised Hailie I’d call her as soon as I got back to the hotel.” Massaging his brow, Eminem wandered over to the room’s minibar, conveniently located next to his king sized bed, and perused its contents with a sigh. “Ya want anything?”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Trent lifted his chin with a focused gaze. “An explanation would be nice.”

Eminem stepped back from the cabinet, lifting a dark brow. “For what?”

Trent shook his head, strands of black brushing over his shoulders. ”I know you have to maintain a certain image, Em – Marshall, but…” He scuffed the toe of his boot on the beige carpeting, pondering how to correctly word his thoughts. What he had seen was something so obviously personal that it left him at a loss for them. “Why the fuck share this part of yourself with me? Or did you forget our little war at the after party?”

This prompted a faintly amused smile. “You of all people, right?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe ‘cause you ain’t afraid to tell me how it is to my face instead of behind my back or through an interview or in a magazine like everyone else. You’re real, and I like that, and I respect that.” His leveled gaze was blazing faintly at the nearly bewildered expression on Trent’s face. “And the least I could do is be real with you.”

Trent scowled, feeling as though he was losing control of the situation. Only when Eminem approached him with subtle, even-tempered steps did Trent realize that he didn’t care. “Real, huh?” Once he was close enough, Trent lifted his hand and dared to brush his knuckles across Eminem’s left cheek, eyes narrowing when he felt the other man’s breath growing short. “I can understand that.”

Lashes lowered almost demurely, Eminem could only manage a murmured string of words. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t know…” His dark, worldly eyes contemplatmineminem’s face, fingers feeling the oncoming warmth of a blush on his pale skin. “Want me to stop?”

Eminem remained silent, a look of contemplation consuming the hardened features on his face before he answered with a shake of his head. “No…”

With his one word answer, their lips touched, and Trent indulged in the sweet succulence of Eminem's mouth – the collected flavors of alcohol and a taste that was purely his own. Their tongues entwined, battling for supremacy until Eminem sought breath and pulled away. “Umm…” He bit into his pouty lower lip, and Trent suddenly found himself jealous of those teeth. “I ain’t ever done this before. With a dude, I mean.”

“I gathered that.” Watching the other man take a step back to collect himself, Trent felt every bit the role of predator, preying upon the innocent, wide-eyed lamb that was Marshall Mathers. Usually, he felt comfortable with the role, but something about this encounter demanded a bit of patience. “What else have you never done with a –dude-…” He raised an enticing brow. “Hmm?”

An abrupt, nervous laughter was followed by an answer. “Take a fucking guess.” Again, he worried his lip, unaware of what a tease it was. “So what now?”

“Now, you have to ask yourself.” Trent paused for effect, both amused and entranced by the subtle nervousness in the action of Eminem scratching the back of his head. “Do you want to go farther?”

”Hmm.” The same hand went to stroke his chin. “This would be a lot easier if you hadn’t kicked me in the stomach earlier.”

Trent took the statement for the distraction it was and pulled Eminem into another kiss, this one not as gentle and testing as the first. He growled in approval when Eminem kissed back just as hard, long and lithe fingers tangling into his black mane and tugging firmly. For someone who had never done this, he certainly didn’t mind taking control. However, Trent knew that it just wouldn’t do.

“Hey!” Eminem broke the kiss with a gasp when a hand cupped the bulge in the crotch of his pants.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Em - Marshall.” He sighed and chastised himself for forgetting his name again, then met him with a hungry, smoldering gaze. “I’m actually going to make you feel very, very good.”

Eminem snorted, eyes reacting with slight surprise when his shins bumped against the corner of the bed. “Yeah, why should I believe you?”

Ripe lips pursed, Trent trailed a hand up and down Eminem’s cloth-covered right arm. “You haven’t kicked me out yet, have you?” He guided Eminem’s gaze to meet his own, and gave him a sweetly mysterious smile. “Hmm?”

A sudden movement of limbs caught Trent offguard, and before he knew it, he was pinned to the mattress, Eminem’s body covering his own as the other man practically devoured his lips. Trent felt weak under the assault, not recalling the last time he’d felt such passion surging through another person’s body, ande hde his best attempts to return the kiss fervently. He was aggressive, which he appreciated, but something about the way Eminem settled his weight on either side of him caused Trent to believe that he was more gentle than he would ever let on.

When Eminem began to acquire a taste for his neck, Trent felt his breath growing short, the skill of his mouth spreading under his skin like a sensual disease. He skimmed his hands down the other man’s slender build, fingers deftly sliding under the drapery of his hooded sweatshirt and kneading the warm flesh of his back as a moan was drawn from his throat with a nip to his collarbone. Still wondering how far this encounter might go, Trent subtly ground his knee against Eminem’s crotch, pleased when it drew the response he was hoping for. He felt the muscles tense under his hands, the hardening of his cloth-covered cock, and for one moment, Eminem paused completely.

The moment was long enough for Trent reassume control.

“The fuck!?” Eminem tried to buck off the man straddling his waist. “Get the fuck off me!”

Trent pinned his arms on either side of his head, a tuft of hair falling over one eye as he stared daggers into Eminem’s ocean depths. “No.”

“No?!”

“You said so yourself. You’ve never done this before.” He lowered his lips to Eminem’s, sucking the very life out of him with the force of his kiss, his tone feral and hypnotic when he spoke at last. “So let me show you how it’s done.”
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Just For Tonight