Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Don't Think	By : Queenie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 1898 -:- 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-Don't Think
- 1
Disclaimer: This is a work of non-profit fiction. I don't claim any rights to the character of Nick Fallin, and I don't claim that this ever happened to Marshall Mathers.

Don't Think

“I’ve never done this before,” Nick whispered, and it made Marshall smile. Nick looked scared, or maybe just nervous. He reached out and touched Marshall, lightly, on the shoulder. Marshall copied the movement, so they were standing facing each other, both of their right arms raised, just touching.

“Neither have I,” Marshall said, “Don’t be thinking that I’m…y’know…”

“No,” Nick replied quickly. “No. I know.”

They regarded each other curiously. Neither had ever been this close to another man. Well, Marshall had, but not seriously, just joking around with his friends, playing. Nick, though, had never had that kind of friend. Never gotten this close unless there was a woman he wanted to fuck., and that’s all he ever did with women, too. No emotions, no ties. It was too hard. Nick didn’t show his emotions, and Marshall showed them too much. But there they were, at Nick’s house. Standing in the living room, because it was safer than the bedroom, and because the beer was closer. Beer. Yes.

Nick broke away first, and went over to the bar. He pulled out two more bottles and tossed one to Marshall, who cracked it and took a long swig. “What do they call this?” he asked, holding it up. Nick looked blank.

“Heineken?”

“No,” Marshall shook his head impatiently, “Fucking…Dutch courage. For when you ain’t got nothing left.”

Nick looked uncertain for a minute. “We don’t have to do anything,” he said. “That’s fine.” He went to the couch and sank into it, looking back at Marshall with an unreadable expression. Marshall had found that most of Nick’s expressions were unreadable, though.

He shrugged. “I thought you wanted to,” he said, keeping his voice carefully level. He wanted to. They’d won the court case, Nick was a damn [i]good[/i] lawyer, and Marshall hadn’t been able to contain his relief. Had swallowed Nick in a huge embrace, and Nick had had no idea what to do. Definitely hadn’t been expecting it. But then he’d melted against Marshall’s chest, just for an instant, and Marshall had felt the first thrill of breaking through that icy exterior and finding something inside.

Later, at the bar, he’d found more. When Nick wasn’t obsessively working, he had a biting, harsh sense of humour. And he was quick, and he spoke fast when he was excited, which Marshall did too. They sat there for nearly two hours, talking, joking, laughing. Nick had a smile that lit up his whole face, when he used it. And Marshall wanted to see him smile, because fuck, he’d just won that fucking case that had been hanging over his head, and he was happy, and he wanted everyone else to be happy, too.

Nick shrugged out of his jacket, he looked hot, face flushed from embarrassment or alcohol or who knows. “Come here,” he said, flashing his eyes up at Marshall. Marshall did as he was told, sinking down on the couch next to Nick and setting his half empty beer on the coffee table. Again, they just looked at each other, not sure what was going to happen next. Something was going to happen, yes. But it was the bit that had to come first, the start, that was the problem. Both of them thought that if they could just skip that, then it’d be ok.

Marshall rolled his head back on the couch, felt the cushions slowly. “Suede,” he noted, one eyebrow raised. Nick smirked.

“I’m a good lawyer,” was all he said, and Marshall barked out a laugh.

“You don’t gotta tell me that, man. You saved my ass, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. And you seemed pretty happy about that.” He rolled his head back, too, and now they were looking right in each others eyes.

“I was grateful,” Marshall said, and then immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Is that what this is about?”

Marshall pursed his lips. “You know that ain’t what this is about.”

They’d bumped into each other in the bathroom at the bar. Marshall had just been finishing, and Nick had come in because he’d spilt something on his Egyptian cotton shirt. hallhall shook himself off, and Nick splashed cold water on his chest, and it was as if their fate was sealed.

“Yo, did I thank you yet, dude?” Marshall had asked, coming up to wash his hands in the basin next to Nick. Nick grinned.

“Couple times,” he said, rubbing at the stain, which was red wine and just above his right nipple. Marshall, who was a little tipsy, pulled him into another hug. It was a man-hug, quick tapping of the chests, their hands clasped, but it was a hug all the same. And it lasted longer than the first.

Nick was taller, and he looked down at Marshall, who’d rested his cheek against his shoulder. Lowered his head, let his chin rub over Marshall’s hair. Didn’t know why. Didn’t know why, when Marshall finally raised his head, their faces touched like that. Didn’t know [i]how[/i] their lips had gotten that close.

Didn’t know how they’d kissed.

Back on the couch. Marshall was getting impatient. Nick was there, he was close, he could feel the heat radiating from him. And Marshall was full of Dutch courage, and restless. “Nick.”

“Marshall.”

“You gonna fuckin’ kiss me again?”

Nick grinned, and Marshall smiled back in relief. “You kissed me, Mr. Mathers,” he said in a low voice, moving just that bit closer. His hand came out and hesitantly rested on Marshall’s knee. Marshall liked it. It felt comfortable.

“No fucking way.” Marshall moved in closer, too, a little more than Nick had, and now they were touching. Sides pressing against sides. Marshall didn’t know what to do with his arm.

Nick coughed. “So, does it matter?” he asked, and his face was closer still. Marshall could feel his hand shaking. For some reason, it made it a little bit more ok.

“Fuck no.”

Their lips touched, not exactly graceful, not smooth, but they touched, and they sorted themselves out, and kissed. And then Marshall knew he’d finally melted the ice, because Nick was [i]hot[/i], and burning, pushing at Marshall’s mouth with his tongue, pushing inside and exploring like he hadn’t kissed anyone in years, and wouldn’t ever again. Next thing Marshall knew, he was laying back on the couch with Nick on top of him, and his own arms were wrapped around Nick’s back and sliding up his shirt. Because he wanted to get closer to that heat. Nick’s skin was smooth, and his back was hard and soft at the same time. Bigger than a woman’s, of course, and Marshall was confused, and then disgusted, but it only lasted a second. Nick was sliding his own hands up Marshall’s shirt, and Marshall sort of didn’t care what he was about to fuck, as long as he got more heat.

“The bed’s more comfortable,” Nick gasped, right when Marshall wasn’t expecting it. He’d figured they were still at the making out on the couch stage of the night, and hadn’t really thought beyond that, except to vague hopes of coming. He paused for a minute, and looked up into Nick’s face.

“Yeah, I guess it would be,” he finally said, and wiggled out from under Nick, before standing by the couch uncertainly. He didn’t know his way around the house. Nick looked up at him in something like wonder, from where he was still kneeling on the couch, then he got up to lead the way. Marshall watched him walk, watched him move. ‘That’s a guy,’ he told himself, and tried to come up with an appropriate reaction. ‘You hear me, Mathers? A guy.’ Nada. ‘Fuck it,’ he thought, ‘I’ve done every other fucking thing.’

The bedroom was suitably masculine, exactly what you’d expect from a rich, bachelor lawyer. The sheets were clean, that’s all Marshall cared about. And it smelled like Nicks aftershave, which he hadn’t even noticed until now. He kind of liked the scent, and thought he’d have to ask what it was before he left.

Nick stood in the middle of the room, and Marshall stood opposite him, and it looked for a moment like there was going to be a repeat of that hesitation from before. But then they were on each other, kissing again, and touching, pushing, pulling. Nick’s shirt was unbuttoned and discarded, Marshall’s was pushed over his head, and their chests were pressed together, so hot, until Marshall thought they were both going to burn up.

“[i]Bed[/i],” Nick inisted, and he grabbed Marshall and moved backwards, falling on the bed and making Marshall fall on top of him.

“Shit…” Marshall whispered, but that was smothered too, by Nick’s lips, by his fingers, by his body underneath him. Marshall knew he was hard already, and wondered if it was the nervousness that had made that happen, or what. Nick lapped at his lips, and Marshall stopped asking why and concentrated on what was happening.

Nick was happening. Tugging at Marshall’s pants, slipping them down over his hips and tossing them to the floor. Marshall followed suit, and was slightly amused to see Nick’s black boxers, expensive and tasteful like everything else the man owned. They didn’t last long, but Marshall couldn’t really bear to look below Nick’s waist without them there. Not yet. Instead he pressed his lips to Nick’s chest and closed his eyes, made himself just breath for a moment.

“Marshall?”

“Mmmm?”

Nick was panting, Marshall could feel his cock was hard, against his thigh, tried not to think about it, but couldn’t [i]not[/i] think about it. “What are we going to do?”

Marshall opened his eyes. “What?”

Nick groaned. “Do, Marshall. What are we going to do? I wanna come-”

“You’re not the only one.”

“But I don’t want to…you know. Don’t want to do that.”

Marshall looked up properly, dismay in his eyes. “[i]Fuck,[/i]” he said. “No. I don’t wanna do that neither, man. No. But what, then? What else [i]is[/i] there?”

They regarded each other, breathing hard, faces red. Neither of the were willing to tthatthat step just yet, one thing at a time. And, Marshall figured, they’d never agree on who did who, anyway. But Marshall was at a complete loss, because he wasn’t exactly used to this, it wasn’t his scene. With girls it was easy, they never said they didn’t want to fuck him, shit, that was what they were there for. But Nick…that wasn’t what he was there for.

Nick licked his lips, then moved his hand down to his own erection, touched it. “We could just jerk off,” he whispered, and Marshall thought he saw the flush in his cheeks deepen. He nodded.

“We could do that,” he agreed and started to push down his own boxers, getting up in his knees to do so. He caught Nick staring, running his eyes up and down his body, and it occurred to him for a moment to be embarrassed. But then he saw Nick’s hand still lightly touching his cock, remembered his own hard on, and thought fuck it. ‘Let him look, I’m lookin’. That’s what this is about.’

He knelt over Nick, one hand planted firmly on the mattress, one moving down his body. Nick looked up at him, his eyes shining, and then he leant up and attacked Marshall’s mouth roughly, a moan escaping from between them. “Jeeeesus,” Marshall sighed, closing his eyes and wrapping his hand around his cock. He started stroking, could feel Nick doing the same thing beneath him. Nick’s head dropped back on the pillow, he rolled it back, exposing his throat and letting his moutng ong open. Marshall dipped down and licked from his shoulder blade right up to his chin, then bit gently. He watched in wonder at Nick’s reaction, dared to look down and see Nick’s hand moving faster over his cock. Nick looked down too, they both watched for a moment, then looked back up, meeting each others eyes.

“It’s not enough,” Marshall whispered, frustration and lust drenching his words, “I want more. I wanted you.”

“I know,” Nick said, and suddenly, he was grabbing Marshall’s hand, moving up and down with it and then pushing it off. “Touch me,” he groaned, holding Marshall’s cock, fingers clumsily wrapped around it. Marshall felt the arm holding him up nearly give way, he dipped closer to Nick, rested his head on Nick’s shoulder.

“I gotta change position, man, my arm’s killing me,” he gasped, and Nick burst out laughing.

“Come here.” He pulled Marshall down next to him, rolled them around until the were facing each other. Nick’s hand was resting on Marshall’s hip, and slowly it moved back down. “Can I touch you?”

“It’s a little late for asking permission.” Marshall smiled and moved Nick’s hand down to his erection. “Fuck. Yes.” He concentrated on the movement of Nick’s hand for a few strokes, then figured he’d probably have to repay the favour. “You want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Nick groaned. “What was that?”

“Yes!”

Marshall held his breath and reached down, touched Nick’s cock lightly. “You want this?” He wasn’t delaying to tease Nick, not exactly. He was delaying to get up the courage.

Nickn’t n’t having any of it, though. He thrust forward against Marshall’s hand, rubbing his slick head against it. Marshall jerked his hand back, but just for a second. Then he was grabbing at Nick’s cock, rubbing his fingers over it, smoothing the soaking precome up and down the shaft. Nick groaned again, long and low, the sound vibrating between them.

They settled then into a quick rhythm, their hands working in time, their hips thrusting forward, sweaty bodies rubbing together. And it wasn’t about [i]anything[/i] anymore, nothing except the pleasure engulfing them, nothing but cock and sweat and moans and heat. Nick had his eyes closed, his mouth open, and Marshall watched without really seeing anything, because it all just feels too damn good.

Nick came first, panting, his body jerking forward against Marshall, who squeezes his hand still tighter. “Christ!” Nick moans, and then there it is, his orgasm ripping through him and exploding out onto Marshall’s hand and stomach. Marshall jumped, the hot, sticky fluid unexpected, and then rolled onto his back, gingerly touching Nick’s come with his finger.

“You made a mess,” he whispered, looking over at Nick from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, I did,” Nick replied, still breathing hard, one arm thrown over his face. Marshall licked his lips.

“How are you going to clean it up?” he asked, twisting his head around properly, so he could see Nick’s reaction. Nick dropped his arm and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say a word.

“Lick it up.”

Marshall didn’t really expect Nick to actually do it. He’d just said it because he thought it sounded sexy. But the next thing he knew, Nick was sliding down the bed, curling around his legs, and lapping at his own come splattered all over Marshall’s tensed stomach.

It took about five seconds. Marshall gasped in shock and pure pleasure as he came, fingers gripping the sheets. He opened his eyes wide, made a strangled sort of moan, and then looked down. Right at Nick’s come slicked lips. “Damn,” he breathed, watching as Nick’s tongue came out to clean his upper lip. Without thinking, and before Nick could get at the bottom one too, Marshall pulled him up and into a long kiss, tasting bitter salt and spit and beer in Nick’s mouth. He didn’t even know who’s come he’d just swallowed. He didn’t care. The afterglow of his orgasm was like a drug, washing over him, and he didn’t care about anything except the warmth in his limbs, the weight of Nick’s arm across his chest.

Nick didn’t stay there, however, he rolled back onto his back and stared at the ceiling. They were silent for a while, and then Nick heaved out a long si“I c“I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Shh,” Marshall looked at him impatiently, “No talking. Quiet.”

Nick rolled his eyes. “We can’t stay quiet forever,” he said, but Marshall reached up and clamped his hand over his mouth.

“We can stay quiet for ten fucking minutes. Hush up. I wanna enjoy this.”

Nick turned his head, and Marshall rested his hand on his cheek. “You enjoyed that?”

“Fuck yeah!” Marshall blinked. “You tellin’ me you [i]didn’t[/i]?”

Narrowing his eyes, Nick shrugged. “Of course I enjoyed it. It’s just…”

“I ain’t having this conversation now, Nick,” Marshall interrupted, “I ain’t even thinking about that shit, yet. I’ma have enough time for that later.”

“I guess.” Nick smiled, and Marshall felt a stab of relief. “I guess we could just lie here.”

“Now you’re getting it.” Marshall half sat up, looking at the mess on his stomach. “You didn’t do a very good job of cleaning that up, Fallin,” he said, flopping back down on the bed.

“Thought I’d leave some for you.”

Marshall smiled sweetly. “Suck my dick.”“May“Maybe next time,” Nick shot back and then groaned. “What happened to quiet time, huh? You’re right. Now isn’t a good time to think about this. Or next time. Shut up for a minute.” He covered his face with his hands, staring at the blackness in front of his eyes, until Marshall couldn’t take it any more.

Nick jumped when he felt the warm hand on his chest. “Nick?”

“What?”

“Tonight was good. But I’m gonna go.”

Nick snatched his hands away from his eyes and stared at Marshall incredulously. “Go? What? Why?”

Marshall blinked. “You don’t want me to go?”

“No. I mean, sure. Go if you want. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Fuck it. I’m staying.”

“Good.” Nick grinned, and Marshall marveled again at the way it lit up his whole face. “Now go to fucking sleep. I’ve got work in the morning.” Nick kicked his way under the covers, and grimaced as he watched Marshall pick up his shirt to wipe of his stomach. “Nice.”

Marshall tossed the shirt away and joined him between the sheets. “It had a stain anyway, yo.”

“Whatever. Shut up. Sleep.”

Marshall rolled over, his backNickNick, and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long before he was out, his body warm and heavy and relaxed.

It must have been past midnight, one or two o’clock. Nick woke up to the sound of Marshall crashing onto the nightstand, muttering a harsh curse under his breath. He watched as Marshall pulled his shirt over his head, then headed for the door.

“Hey,” he called softly, sitting up. Marshall froze.

“Didn’t want to wake you up man,” he said, his voice tinged with guilt.

Nick snorted. “Obviously. Thought you were staying?”

Marshall shrugged. “I woke up. Started thinking about shit. Thought it was best to go.” He put his hand on the door. “That ok?”

“I can’t stop you.” Nick ran his hand through his hair. “You’re heading out to LA tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“So I guess this is it.”

Marshall nodded slowly. “Yeah, it is. Yo, thanks for winning the case, man.”

Nick looked away, stared out the window. “It’s what I do.”

There was silence for a moment, then Marshall cleared his throat. “Well, I should…”

“Marshall? Bit of advice?” Nick looked over at him, and Marshall noticed that his voice had gone hard, professional. “Don’t think about tonight. Put it out of your head, like it never happened. That’s probably the only way to avoid any grief.”

Marshall stared at his shoes. “Yeah. That’s what I plan on doing. And it’d be good if we didn’t mention this to anyone, too. I mean, I got a reputation.”

“Believe it or not, so do I.” Nick lay back down, pulled the covers up over his naked chest. “Look, I’ve got work tomorrow…”

“Yeah. Ok. See you, man.”

“See you.”

Marshall left Nick staring at the ceiling as he made his way back to the living room, found his shoes, called a cab. The thoughts that had led him to get up were still crow his his brain, but he tried to ignore them, just for now. His and Nick’s come was still sticky in traces on his stomach.

The cab wasn’t long, and Marshall jogged out to meet it. He slid in and told the driver his hotel, and then settled back to look out the window.

Nick’s window was lit up. Marshall didn’t want to know what that meant. He just wanted to drive away.

*the end*
- 1
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.
Report Story

Don't Think