Tastes Like You

Title: Tastes Like You
Author: Zilo
Summary: Chris Kirkpatrick has gotten under Marshall's skin and he just wants to see him one more time.
Rating: NC-17 (sex, language, mild S&M, adult themes)
Pairing(s): Chris Kirckpatrick/Eminem (Marshall Mathers) Em/Original character
Feedback: Always welcomed
Author’s notes:
*Disclaimer*: Eminem and Chris Kirkpatrick own themselves I'm just borrowing their public image for a bit. None of this is true and no profit is made.

marshall pov

I'm standing in the middle of a deserted street in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin. I'm so damn cold. I don't know how I got here, I can't remember. It doesn't matter though. I look down and notice that I'm standing in front of a pay phone. Somebody has scrawled the words "cunt bitch" in red along the receiver. The phone rings suddenly, I don't even think about it as I pick it up.

"Hello?" I ask.

There's multiple voices on the other end of the phone, whispering and shouting all at once. I can't understand them. It pisses me off. I don't know why but suddenly I'm so mad I want to fucking kill someone. I rip out the receiver cord. I'm swearing as I smash my fists into the unforgiving metal of the phone booth. It fucking hurts. I'm glad as I see the blood run down my knuckles, fascinated by it, hypnotized. A warm hand suddenly splays across my lower back. I turn quickly, still angry. Dark knowing eyes fill me up and I can't breath. I'm lost, can't think, can't remember. Fuck. Why is he here? He shouldn't be here... he doesn't belong here. It's too cold, too fucked up. I'm shivering and he looks concerned. I want to hit him, make him bleed for making me need him like... like some bitch. It's his fucking fault. His fault.

Everything is shifting, blurring out. I'm not scared... I'm not. We're in a hotel room, there' s a big window at the end of the room. It's night and the rain trickles down the glass. Lightening bleeds across the angry purple sky, the thunder is deafening and it seems to shake the whole building. He's behind me suddenly, pulling gently at my wet clothes. I grab his arm, twisting our bodies and seal his lips against mine, pushing and needy. Fuck it. Hands everywhere, hot and burning across cold skin. I need him, I fucking need him. I'm so cold and he's burning, I'm pulling roughly at his clothes, no thinking anymore... just feeling, need to feel him. Hot skin. Frying out every brain cell, I'm humping up against him like a dog. Pulling me deep. Make it hurt. Bitch. Fucking dog sex. Fuck me. Make me bleed. Fuck me. Own me.

Marshall woke up shaking and so hard he couldn't breath. The groupie bitch he'd picked up that night lay sleeping next to him. She hadn't helped him forget. Fuck. Those eyes still burned in his memory. These dreams were fucking him up. He'd been having them ever since... ever since that night. He couldn't handle this shit. He needed to see him again. He glanced at the girl again, shook his head and wrapped his hand around his dick. His eyes slipped closed... really needed to see him again.