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Candy Corn	By : Zilo Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 3185 -:- 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-Candy Corn
- 1
Ttile: Candy Corn
Author: Zilo
Summary: Not a whole lot of plot here. There's a halloween party and then SEX.
Rating: R to NC-17 (language, sex)
Pairing: Eminem/50 Cent
Author's Note: Em's no longer in rehab... just pretend this lame plot still holds, okay?
*Disclaimer*: This didn't happen. I don't own 50 cent or Eminem, they own themselves. I make no claims about their sexual preferences. This is just for fun. No profit made.

Em wasn’t an idiot. The guy in the Darth Vader suit was defiantly trying to get his attention. The question was more along the lines of weather he felt like going over and being Mr. Friendly Marhsall Mathers tonight.

It was a little surreal to be even standing at an all adult Halloween costume party anyway. Well, one that had no booze or drugs even remotely near by. It was a party hosted by the “rehab” no, “resting center” as they liked to be called, coordinators. It was to get all the druggies out and meeting each other and having fun like five year olds. It was stupid, but better then going back to his room for the night. His roommate was addicted to cocaine and had been snorting anything he could get his hands on. The program was defiantly doing wonders for him.

Darth Vader nodded at him again and he sighed inwardly and dug his hand into the bright orange dish full of candy corns. Candy corns in hand he slowly made his way over to the darkish corner Darth Vader was occupying. Maybe he would be some bitch and they could fight. A good fight might make him feel better. The guy was kinda tall though. Em was pretty sure he could take him though. Maybe.

“What up man? Party sucks. Want some candy corn?” Em showed him his handful amiably. No need in getting bitchy yet. He was only kidding about that fighting thing, kinda.

Darth grabbed him by the wrist and grumbled something unintelligible through the plastic mask. Candy corns forgotten, they scattered and half rolled across the floor. Em was ready to kick some Darth Vader ass. All the “talk about your feelings” therapy crap had been making him half crazy anyway. Fuck anger management.

“Let go of me fucker.“ Em was rearing back for the punch before the words were hardly out of his mouth. It was the muffled laugh that made him pull it at the last second.

Darth tilted his mask up slightly to snicker into an all too familiar voice; “Yo man, what was you thinking wit dat costume?”

The voice, the quick glimpse of those lips, Marshall gasped. “Fifty? How the fuck did you sneak in here?!” A stage whisper, because Em was too surprised to be discreet.

“Nah, really man… what’s wit the plaid? I didn’t know cowboys were inta plaid.” Fifty’s lips curled up into a smile that looked like sex and Em felt his face flush.

“Well what’s with the Darth Vader costume? Star Wars sucks.” Marshall tried to fight off the smile that wanted to curl its’ way around his entire head. Despite all the teasing he felt like a little kid with a secret. Fifty had defiantly found some way of sneaking in. Visiting hours were long over and the center was pretty strict about outsiders ‘interfering with the healing process.’ The sex was going to be amazing.

“I’m badass in this getup. Yer just jealous.” Fifty gave him a knowing a grin and then said; “Yo cowboy, you gonna take me somewhere?” The mask slipped back over his face and he dropped Marshall’s wrist which he had been carefully holding onto the entire time.

“Yeah.” Em knew the perfect place.

* * *

“The weight room?” Fifty eyed the racks of metal weights curiously and wandered over to one of the exercise machines.

“You got me inta lifting in the first place. So it’s kinda fitting.”

“I didn’t expect ya ta look so hot doin’ it neither.” Fifty sat down at one of the machines and did a couple arm reps.

“What?” Em took his cowboy hat off carefully and set it down next to his friend’s mask as he waited for Fifty to say more. He had suspected that that had been when Fifty’s attraction to him had first started, but they’d never talked about it.

“You do everything wit ya whole being. You get this look on ya face when you all concentrating and shit.” Fifty laughed to himself without meeting Em’s gaze. “You don’t see dat kinda determination in most people.”

“Dre says I’ma perfectionist.” Em was flattered and didn’t know what else to say to the compliment, especially since Fifty seemed so uncharacteristically embarrassed about it.

Fifty snorted a laugh quickly breaking the tension between them. “Everyone knows yer a perfectionist. How’d ya think I got rich? You an’ Dre ridin my ass all the damn time. It was good fer me though.” He added the last part quickly. “That’s how good albums get made. But I didn’t sneak in here ta talk shop wit ya.” Fifty leered as he spread his legs out and slipped into a low inviting slouch.

Em took the invitation and walked right into Fifty’s open legs. “So back ta that.” He said as he bumped his thigh against his friend’s. “How did you sneak in here anyway?”

Fifty smugly eyed the bulge clearly outlined in Em’s cowboy blue jeans as he made quick work of the offending pants. “I slept with the events coordinator.” He answered easily.

Em barked out a laugh, “Yo, she’s like 90.”

“I do crazy shit for ya.” Fifty, having found what he was looking for didn’t wait for a reply as he wrapped his big hand around Em’s dick. His lips puckered slightly against the head before he took him in.

After a while Em’s fingers started digging bruises into Fifty’s shoulders. “Can y-you… I w-want ta… fuck. Let’s f-fuck.”

It was the breathless almost pleading tone in his voice that made Fifty’s movements rough. He pushed Em back as he made quick work of his black Darth pants, snagging a few necessities from the pockets before dropping them to the floor.

“You brought lube?” Em whispered with a laugh.

“Fuck yeah. You think I’d come an’ see ya without it?” Fifty didn’t wait for a reply as he ran a hand up and down his dick, coating the shaft with the clear gel. “Com’re” The word sounding more like a growl as he motioned to his friend.

Em had shucked his jeans the rest of the way off and eagerly walked closer. He parted his legs as Fifty’s slick fingers readied him.

Their eyes meet briefly and Marshall felt his mouth drop open in a silent gasp. Fifty should win an Oscar for his eye-fucking ability. The fingers inside him were pretty nice too.

They didn’t talk as Fifty removed his hand and guided Marshall’s hips down onto his dick. Em did most of the work but Fifty angled his hips and met him thrust for thrust making each one deeper. Marshall didn’t last at all and it wasn’t much longer before Fifty was coming too.

Fifty kissed his ear and panted out; “Missed you.” As his orgasm hit and the words smothered into an incoherent grunt.

They lay still for half a second before untangling themselves and dressing quickly. “If I get caught I’ll lose my gym privileges for a week.” Em snickered.

Fifty shook his head. “Can’t have that.”

Em slid the cowboy hat down over his eyes and then in a long drawl said; “Ya’ll just fucked a cowboy.” He shrank back laughing as Fifty advanced on him as if to attack.

“You betta run white boy.” Fifty laughed too and then his face turned serious. “This shit helping you?”

“Yeah, it helps. I’m glad you came man, though you coulda just visited like normal.”

“Nah, the talking an’ shit. The being away from everyone. Ya feelin more together here?” He tapped Em’s temple for emphasis. He peered at him looking for a reaction. “Ya look aight.”

“I’m aight most days. Yeah, it helps. It’s help’n. I don’t want to live here forever or nothin’. I’m coming back. I got peoples waitin on me.”

“I’m waitin on ya man. So hurry the fuck up and get betta aight?” Fifty cracked a grin and Marshall felt a surprised smile creep across his face.

“Yeah, aight, guess I won’t be goin’ ta the dark side then, Darth.”

(End)
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