Tastes Like You
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Eminem/Marshall Mathers
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
4,817
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Eminem/Marshall Mathers
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
4,817
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
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 2: Voices
Tastes Like You
Chapter 2
Chris POV
His cell was ringing. His head was fucking ringing too. Drank way too much last night, really didn't want to talk to anybody. Chris rolled over and fell off the bed. Fuck, hadn't known he was that close to the edge. The phone rang again, this time only a couple inches from his head. He wanted to throw the thing across the room, didn't have the energy. He fumbled angrily with the loudly ringing contraption, pressed a button.
"What?!" He asked, more like yelled into the phone, hoping whoever it was would just fuck off.
"Kirkpatrick?" The voice was low and sort of gravely. Chris thought it vaguely familiar, but was way too hung over to place it.
"Yeah, that's me... what'dya want?" He needed some Advil, no something stronger. He rolled over and tried to stand up, still holding the phone to his ear. Whoever the hell it was had gotten all quiet. Chris moaned as he stood up, god, his head felt like it was going to split open.
"Rough night?" The guy asked.
"Yeah, I feel like shit on a stick." Chris made it to the bathroom and was fumbling through the medicine cabinet looking for some painkillers. "Who the hell is this anyway? Do I know you? How'd you get this number?" There was a pause on the other line. Chris downed some pills and chased them down with water. Fuckhead, he thought and was about to hang up the phone when the guy suddenly said,
"Uh... You gave it to me after we fucked... it's Marshall."
Chris half choked. Oh shit. He remembered that night. It had been weird and fucked up, but who would expect anything less from Slim-fucking-Shady. Speaking of fucking, Marshall had called him for some reason. Was the man calling him back asking for a second round? Chris didn't give out his number, especially not to one nighters, but honestly? he really didn't think Marshall would ever use it.
"Oh." He found himself saying. Not very intelligent sounding. Marshall didn't seem to know what to say either, they were both quiet, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Chris could hear Marshall panting in his head, begging to be fucked. Who would have thought that Eminem would like being dominated so much? His fingers curled around the phone. Angry blue eyes, twisted scowly lips... so pretty, Chris thought. It had been fun. So responsive, almost sensitive, and loud too. Chris smiled at the memory. "So... what's up?"
Marshall could hear the smile, it pissed him off. Stupid fucker is laughing at me, he thought. Fuck this. He almost hung up, almost. Pieces of last night's dream drifted through his head, he certainly felt like a "cunt bitch." Sometimes he just hated phones. This was pathetic, what the hell was wrong with him? Fucking Kirkpatrick, smug little shit. "You want to get together sometime?" He managed to grate out. It almost hurt to say the words.
"Get together... Marshall you make it sound so..." Chris paused, oh man he loved this, "so... tame... I thought you liked it rough?" His voice dropped low as he bit out the last word.
Shit. Why'd he have to sound like that? Marshall was equally pissed off as he was turned on. If that bitch was just here he'd... goddamn it. He just fucking hated phones. This was hard enough without Kirkpatrick reminding him of how pathetic he felt. He growled softly, getting angry was an easy reaction. It was almost a relief. "Fine bitch forget I cal-"
"No. No Em, Marshall..." He purred his name. "I'd love to get together again." Get you back in my bed... where you belong, cuffed and waiting. Chris thought darkly. "Yeah, let's get together."
Marshall felt uneasy at the tone in Chris's voice. The whole fucking thing made him uneasy, and totally fucking hard. Fuck it. He needed this. He didn't know why, but maybe, just maybe, it would be okay if he just did it one more time... the dreams would go away. Yeah, he'd go just one more time and then the dreams would probably stop. It would be okay... just had to get this out of his system was all.
Chapter 2
Chris POV
His cell was ringing. His head was fucking ringing too. Drank way too much last night, really didn't want to talk to anybody. Chris rolled over and fell off the bed. Fuck, hadn't known he was that close to the edge. The phone rang again, this time only a couple inches from his head. He wanted to throw the thing across the room, didn't have the energy. He fumbled angrily with the loudly ringing contraption, pressed a button.
"What?!" He asked, more like yelled into the phone, hoping whoever it was would just fuck off.
"Kirkpatrick?" The voice was low and sort of gravely. Chris thought it vaguely familiar, but was way too hung over to place it.
"Yeah, that's me... what'dya want?" He needed some Advil, no something stronger. He rolled over and tried to stand up, still holding the phone to his ear. Whoever the hell it was had gotten all quiet. Chris moaned as he stood up, god, his head felt like it was going to split open.
"Rough night?" The guy asked.
"Yeah, I feel like shit on a stick." Chris made it to the bathroom and was fumbling through the medicine cabinet looking for some painkillers. "Who the hell is this anyway? Do I know you? How'd you get this number?" There was a pause on the other line. Chris downed some pills and chased them down with water. Fuckhead, he thought and was about to hang up the phone when the guy suddenly said,
"Uh... You gave it to me after we fucked... it's Marshall."
Chris half choked. Oh shit. He remembered that night. It had been weird and fucked up, but who would expect anything less from Slim-fucking-Shady. Speaking of fucking, Marshall had called him for some reason. Was the man calling him back asking for a second round? Chris didn't give out his number, especially not to one nighters, but honestly? he really didn't think Marshall would ever use it.
"Oh." He found himself saying. Not very intelligent sounding. Marshall didn't seem to know what to say either, they were both quiet, wrapped up in their own thoughts. Chris could hear Marshall panting in his head, begging to be fucked. Who would have thought that Eminem would like being dominated so much? His fingers curled around the phone. Angry blue eyes, twisted scowly lips... so pretty, Chris thought. It had been fun. So responsive, almost sensitive, and loud too. Chris smiled at the memory. "So... what's up?"
Marshall could hear the smile, it pissed him off. Stupid fucker is laughing at me, he thought. Fuck this. He almost hung up, almost. Pieces of last night's dream drifted through his head, he certainly felt like a "cunt bitch." Sometimes he just hated phones. This was pathetic, what the hell was wrong with him? Fucking Kirkpatrick, smug little shit. "You want to get together sometime?" He managed to grate out. It almost hurt to say the words.
"Get together... Marshall you make it sound so..." Chris paused, oh man he loved this, "so... tame... I thought you liked it rough?" His voice dropped low as he bit out the last word.
Shit. Why'd he have to sound like that? Marshall was equally pissed off as he was turned on. If that bitch was just here he'd... goddamn it. He just fucking hated phones. This was hard enough without Kirkpatrick reminding him of how pathetic he felt. He growled softly, getting angry was an easy reaction. It was almost a relief. "Fine bitch forget I cal-"
"No. No Em, Marshall..." He purred his name. "I'd love to get together again." Get you back in my bed... where you belong, cuffed and waiting. Chris thought darkly. "Yeah, let's get together."
Marshall felt uneasy at the tone in Chris's voice. The whole fucking thing made him uneasy, and totally fucking hard. Fuck it. He needed this. He didn't know why, but maybe, just maybe, it would be okay if he just did it one more time... the dreams would go away. Yeah, he'd go just one more time and then the dreams would probably stop. It would be okay... just had to get this out of his system was all.