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Man Titties	By : Zilo Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 2340 -:- 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
- 1-Man Titties
- 2-Man Titties II
- 1
- 2
Title: Man Titties
Author: Zilo
Summary: Eminem and Proof try to find their way back to their hotel room.
Rating: PG-13 (language, adult themes, sexual situations)
Pairing(s): mild Em/Proof
Characters: "Em" Marshall Mathers "Proof" Deshaun Holton
Author’s notes: Crackfic. Shits and giggles again.
*Disclaimer*: Eminem and Proof own themselves I make no claims about their sexual preferences I'm just borrowing their public images for a bit. No profit made what so ever.

"I wanted dat ho wit dem big tits an' de cornrows." Proof's words slur together.

"What?" Em has his arm around his friend's waist and is trying to remember what floor their rooms are on. He decides on lucky number twelve and presses the button. As it lights up he shifts his weight to his other leg and tries to maintain Proof's weight against him.

"Te git me ta my room, I wanted tits." Proof turns his head and lays it against Em's shoulder and closes his eyes. "She was hot man. She'da been nice company ta my room."

Em snorts a laugh. "So I'm just like the shitty consolation prize huh? Fuck you too bitch. Man, you'd not even getta enjoy it. You practically asleep already." He shakes his shoulder a bit. "Come on dawg, don't fall asleep on me. I can't hold ya'r ass up, I'm too fucked up for that shit."

The doors ding quietly and slide open. The hallway is wrong. There wasn't a big plant there before. Em would have remembered something that ugly. Not their floor then. It's late and the place is thankfully deserted.

"Fuck." Em backs into the elevator again.

"It's twenty-three yo." Proof mutters.

Em's surprised he even knows what's going on let alone their floor number. 'Damn faker probably isn't even that messed up. Should be carrying my ass around instead.' He thinks as he stabs the elevator button with annoyance. "Why didn' ya say something before?" Cranky.

"Cause you a flat-chested ho."

"Yo I can't help it that god gave me small man titties. If Bizaare was here though..." He trails off.

Proof laughs manically at the insult. He sways against his friend and has to tighten his hold around Em's neck to keep from falling. There are tears in his eyes as he whispers; "Oh man, oh man, low blow... low dude."

Em presses his fingertips against the nearest surface to keep their balance. "You drugged out bastard." He mutters as Proof's movements press his hand out flat against the smooth elevator wall.

"They got operations for that shit." Proof says with some seriousness once he's finally gained his breath back.

"I don't think an operation is gonna fix it. Man, needs some hot chick to whip him into shape an' make sure he sticks to his diet plan." Em drags Proof through the doors as they slide open. He recognizes a painting on the wall and is mildly surprised that Proof was right about their floor. There's a cushioned couch-like bench in the hallway that is probably just for show but Em steers them over to it a plops Proof down onto it.

"Where's your keycard fool?" He asks but he doesn't expect much help from the other man and is already searching his pockets for it.

"No I mean for you, for your tits. You know, an operation." Proof's eyes are closed when Em pauses in his search to look up at his face.

"My tits?" He asks, and then shakes his head. 'Did they ever have conversations that made any sense? No.' He makes a little huffed sound of victory as he finds Proof's wallet and starts going through it.

"Yeah man, you could get some hot ass tits. Heh. That'd be fat if ya had tits. I'd be like be all over you." Proof laughs at that, as if picturing it in his head. "Everyone one would."

"Yeah, you guys would be molesting me all the damn time. I'd never get any work done." He closes the wallet in mild frustration. It's not there. He decides then to take him to his room. Fuck it. The beds are huge in these sorts of places and his eyes are starting to burn and he really just wants to close them and lay down.

"Heh. Yeah." Proof agrees as Em hauls him to his feet and steers them down the hallway towards his room. It takes him a couple tries but after a while he finally fits the plastic card into the door and it opens.

Proof's shoes are a bitch to get off. Em isn't sure why, but he's suddenly fixated on the idea that shoes on the bed is a mortal sin and they have got to go. They do, but not without a fight. He's totally exhausted after and barely gets his own shoes off before collapsing on the bed.

The room is spinning so he closes his eyes and rolls over on his side. He's almost asleep when a voice cuts into his half dreams and says; "Would you let me titty fuck you?" The voice is floating somewhere near his ear, too near. Em's eyes open and he rolls over into Proof. Their foreheads bump together.

"Ow! Move the fuck over!" It doesn't really hurt but he's annoyed for being woken and crankily barks out "No! I wouldn't let you titty fuck me. My tits would be B's and you can't titty fuck B cups. Now move over and shut the fuck up."

Proof moves like a slug. Em ends up barrel rolling him a couple times before he's sufficiently on the other side of the bed.

"Night bitch." Proof mutters affectionately as he falls asleep.
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