Bad Influence

Title: Bad Influence
Author: Jade
Series: RPS
Pairing: Eminem/Elijah Wood
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Notes: Real Person Slash
Disclaimers: don't own, don't sue, don't ask, don't tell


He'd first felt it when he'd gone to see the movie, Fellowship of the Ring. Some friends had dragged him to it, and he'd been convinced he was going to be bored for three hours. A fairy tale? With elves and wizards? Not Eminem's style. He liked action movies, with fast cars and big guns. But there was nothing else going on, so he went.

And he liked it.

Well, at first it was confusing; he'd never read the books and he had only a vague idea of the plot. But it pulled him in somehow, and he found that every time the hobbit Frodo was on the screen, he couldn't take his eyes away. He didn't realize it at first. But then there was a scene where the ringwraith was near, and Frodo seemed to be in pain, but the way his eyes rolled back and he moaned didn't seem like pain to him. In fact, he was stunned when he felt himself start to get hard from just watching. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Of course, now every time he saw Frodo, all he could think about were those big eyes, the delicate features that were too pretty for a man, that lithe body...He shook his head. He couldn't let himself think this way. He was straight! He hated gays! He thought he'd banished all those thoughts long ago, when he was 15 or so...

The real reason Eminem reacted so violently to homosexuality was that he'd once been terrified he was gay. Then, he'd had no idea that a person could be bisexual, had thought it was all or nothing. So when he'd caught a glimpse of another boy masturbating in the gym showers, thinking he was alone, and it had given him an erection... he'd been scared. He knew what happened to guys that even acted a bit "gay." He was small and slim anyway; he couldn't afford to become a target. He had big plans.

He tried surreptitiously to adjust his arousal; he could remember that day all too well. The curve of the boy's ass, the way the water cascaded over him, his hard cock in his hand as he stroked... he'd run of tof the locker room as fast as he could, found an empty bathroom and jerked himself off brutally, quickly, cheeks burning with shame and tears running down his face even as he was gripped with the most intense climax he'd yet felt.

From that day on, he had tried to stay as far away from homosexuality as possible, sleeping with as many girls as he could, jeering any gay boys he saw. All in an effort to convince himself that he wasn't gay. Not him.

And if he ever had fleeting thoughts, or dreams, about boys in the shower, well, he just threw himself into his music a bit deeper and reminded himself of how much he wanted, no, *needed* to succeed, and in time he could go on.

It had worked until now.

But something about the delicate features continued to haunt him, and after the movie he was more subdued than usual. He shrugged it off as fatigue, and begged off the partying, and went home.

He found out later that the actor who played Frodo was named Elijah Wood. Of course, the young man's photo was everywhere, and he found it very difficult to ignore what had happened the other night. He'd be looking through a magazine and there he'd be, big blue eyes and pouty little mouth and oh fuck what he'd like to do to that mouth... He tried to convince himself it was because Elijah looked feminine, but he had to admit to himself that wasn't it. Elijah was undoubtedly male, delicate though he was, and it was the combination of the two that made him ache.

For once in his life, he wished he had someone he could talk to, but of course he didn't. There was no one he could trust with something like this. And of course it built up in his mind, getting worse and worse. He started to have dreams. Sometimes they were of that boy in the showers so many years ago, but more and more they starred Elijah. He knew he was becoming obsessed.

One day he was invited to a Hollywood party; he usually avoided those kinds of parties but he was in town and bored, and he thought maybe he could pick up some pretty chick who could take his mind off Elijah. He intended to get wasted and have a good time.

All was well for a while, he was hanging out and bullshitting, chatting up a few girls, getting a good buzz, when it all went wrong. A new group had arrived, and when he looked up idly to check out the newcomers, he forgot how to breathe, and the room suddenly seemed too small.

It was him.

Elijah Wood, in the flesh, and looking even better than his pictures. Dark curly hair fell into huge blue eyes, his cheeks were flushed, and those lips were smiling, pink tongue darting out, and oh god he was so fucked. He let his eyes travel down the man's body, slim, lithe, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt and low, hip-hugging faded jeans. The shirt and jeans didn't quite meet, giving him tantalizing glimpses of creamy flesh. An ache had begun in his lower stomach, and he realized he was getting hard, and fast. Thank god for loose sweatpants. He pulled his shirt down too, just in case.

For the first time in his life, Eminem wanted to blend into the crowd, escape notice, because he sure as hell couldn't keep up a conversation in this state. It wasn't that he was just aroused; his heart was beating like he'd just run a mile. He grabbed another drink with shaking hands, just so he had something to focus on, and tried to fade back against the wall. Try as he might, though, he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to Elijah, who appeared to be having the time of his life, laughing and joking with the crowd around him. This was dangerous, he couldn't keep staring like this, someone was bound to notice.

Someone like Elijah.

He'd made the mistake of letting his eyes linger too long on the boyish form, and the object of his attention, as though sensing it, looked up and across the room... right at him. He held his breath, caught staring, trapped by the gaze of the man who had been tormenting him unknowingly. He knew when recognition flashed across Elijah's face; he'd seen that often enough now. He expected the other man to look away in disgust, but to his surprise, a smile tugged at those full lips, and he realized he was still staring. Elijah looked achingly perfect standing there, smiling enigmatically at him, and the last thing he wanted to do was look away. But he wrenched his gaze away finally, knowing he'd already stared too long, hoping he hadn't created an issue already. He forced himself to look across the room, trying to focus on a huge television screen that was showing some game or other, willing himself not to look back.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his arm gently and a soft voice spoke. He whirled; he'd hurt people for touching him without permission; who would dare?

It was him.

Close up, he looked even better, so young; he knew that Elijah was several years younger than him but it looked like . El. Elijah looked breakable, inches shorter than him and much slighter. He knew he was staring again, but he almost couldn't believe this was real, that Elijah was standing in front of him, saying... what had he said? He hadn't caught it. "What?" he said, intelligently.

"I said, hello," Elijah smiled up at him.

"Hi," he managed to say, wondering when his IQ had dropped so alarmingly. No matter how beautiful or famous a woman he'd talked to, he'd never felt like this. So tongue-tied, nervous and just plain stupid.

Elijah stuck out a small hand. "I'm Elijah Wood," he said. "I'm a big fan of your music."

"You are?" He stared for a long moment before snapping out of it and shaking Elijah's hand carefully. His skin was smooth and soft and he had to force himself to let go. "I mean, I know who you are too. I liked your movie. Um, Lord of the Rings."

Elijah smiled delightedly. "Really? Thank you!" He looked back at the group of people who he'd been talking to before, who were looking over at the two of them intently. Then the smaller man leaned closer, and Eminem held his breath. "My friends think I'm crazy," he said, conspiratorially.

"Why?" he answered, glancing over at them. He felt annoyed for no apparent reason. Maybe because they were Elijah's friends and he wasn't.

Elijah leaned even closer, and Eminem could smell him; for some reason it made him even harder. "They think you're going to beat me up."

"They do?" This definitely was not his most intelligent conversation. Elijah made him feel off-guard but not in an unpleasant way.

"Yes, they said you would call me a goddamn faggot and kick my ass if I came over here," Elijah answered, smiling.

"Are you?" he blurted out without thinking. Then, as he realized what he had just said, he felt himself blush for the first time in years. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." Now he felt like a total idiot, and looked like one. This would be all over the papers tomorrow...

But Elijah just laughed. "That's ok, you can ask," he paused, looking up the rapper and licking his lips. "But I might not tell."

Eminem knew his mouth was hanging open now, and he couldn't take his eyes off Elijah's mouth. He couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't incriminate him or make him look even more stupid. But he was spared the need to answer, because Elijah went on, looking at him speculatively with those huge eyes, "Is there someplace more private we can go? To, um, talk?"

His mouth going dry, Eminem nodded without thinking what he was doing. "There are some rooms upstairs," he said softly, almost unable to believe he was doing this.

"Great," Elijah said. "Um... I guess we shouldn't be seen leaving together, huh?"

"Probably not," Eminem agreed. Were they really discussing what he thought they were discussing? His cock was still hard as a rock, though, and he really wanted to be alone with Elijah. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he wanted to find out.

"You go find a room, ok?" Elijah suggested. "I'll follow, and find you. Sound good?"

Eminem nodded, still unbelieving. Elijah wouldn't come up, or he'd just really want to talk, this wasn't really happening...

"Go, I'll see you in a few minutes," urged Elijah, and Eminem felt him touch his arm, softly, but it was enough to set all his nerve endings on fire. He turned to go, as casually as he could, and made his way upstairs.

It was a big house, and Eminem had been here before, so he knew where to find a free room. He slipped inside after making sure it really was unoccupied, and turned on the light. There was a small couch, some chairs, a baby grand piano and some music stands. This obviously was a music room of some sort. It would do. For whatever they were doing.

He whirled when he heard a soft knock on the door. He practically ran over to it, hoping it was Elijah. It was. The actor smiled almost shyly up at him and said, "I'm so glad it was you! The last room, um... was occupied."

Eminem stepped back so the smaller man could enter, then closed the door behind him. "Is this ok?" he asked tentatively.

"I think it's fine," replied Elijah, taking a few steps into the room and turning around to face Eminem.

"What..." Eminem hesitated, then plunged on. "What are we doing?"

Elijah looked at him, and took a step closer. "Talking," he said. "And... the rest is up to you."

"Up to me?"

"Yes," replied Elijah, taking another step. "I don't know what you want. I do know you couldn't seem to take your eyes off me. It was very flattering. You either wanted to beat me up, or..."

"Or?" he couldn't help but ask.

"You're a very sexy man, Eminem. If you wanted something else, so would I," said Elijah carefully.

"You're the sexy one," he breathed, staring at Elijah. "I've never..."

"Never been with a man?" Elijah guessed, and the rapper nodded. "I'm not surprised. Why me?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just... since I saw the movie I couldn't stop thinking of you..."

Elijah moved until he was standing in front of the other man, only an inch from touching. "Mmm," he breathed. "Do I turn you on?"

"Oh god, yes," he almost moaned, body aching to touch, to do something. But he held still.

"Are you hard for me right now?" teased Elijah.

Eminem gasped softly; hearing Elijah speak that way was beyond incredible. "Why don't you find out?" he challenged, not believing his own words.

The look of surprise on Elijah's face quickly turned to desire. "I think I will," he replied, and before Eminem could think there was a hand seeking out his hardness, squeezing through his pants, rubbing at it, teasing it, driving him mad. He moaned involuntarily.

"You weren't kidding," said Elijah, his voice hoarse now.

"I never kid," he replied, thrusting his hips against that hand, breathing hard. He felt like he could come just from this, he was so on edge.

"I bet you don't," Elijah breathed, running his fingers up and down the hard length. His other hand came up to toy with the drawstring of Eminem's pants. "You're huge...May I?"

"Please," he replied, the need in his voice evident. One lone coherent thought came to him, though... "Lock the door?"

"Good idea," Elijah laughed, and quickly did so, coming back to stand in front of Eminem. He looked up at him and said, "Would you kiss me?" He was fully aware that a kiss could be much more personal than sex.

Eminem nodded, slowly, and bent his head down to meet Elijah's. He didn't know what to expect; would kissing a man be different? But then their lips touched, and nothing else mattered except warm, soft, wet; Elijah opened his mouth and Eminem claimed it with his tongue. Elijah ran his hands slowly up Eminem's arms, caressing his muscles, then wrapped his arms around him, pressing his slim body against him. He held his breath when he felt Elijah's hardness, but it only turned him on more to feel another erection pressing against his thigh. Slowly, he let his hands trail down Elijah's back, coming to rest on his ass as he pulled the other man closer.

He felt a sense of loss when Elijah pulled back, breaking the kiss, but then the actor was kissing lower, working his way down, and he felt hands at his waistband. He opened his eyes, looking down, to see Elijah drop gracefully to his knees in front of him. He moaned out loud, again; this was a scene from his wildest fantasies.

Elijah smiled up at him and said, "Are you ready, Eminem?"

And he was. But there was one thing... "Please, call me Marshall," he whispered, not sure why it mattered.

"Ok, Marshall," Elijah said, loosening the string to the pants and hooking his fingers inside. "You want this?"

Marshall groaned. "More than you know," he managed to say.

Then Elijah was pulling down his pants and boxers at once, and he couldn't think anymore. He was sure he'd never been this hard, this desperate for someone's touch. He held his breath as Elijah's hand reached for him, and a cross between a whimper and a moan was ripped from him when the man wrapped his fingers around his arousal at last. Elijah squeezed gently, stroking him up and down, and his knees nearly buckled.

"Maybe you'd better lean against something," advised Elijah with a smile.

Marshall glanced around; the piano was just behind him so he moved back, reluctant to do anything that would keep Elijah from touching him. Elijah followed, never losing his grip, and soon Marshall felt more or less stable.

"Ready?" Elijah asked unnecessarily, and Marshall nodded.

Gripping the edge of the piano, Marshall's mouth fell open at the first touch of Elijah's mouth to his cock. A pink tongue darted out to taste the moisture gathered at the slit, then Elijah took just the head of Marshall's erection in his mouth. Slowly, he slid his head down, taking in inch after inch. He held Marshall's gaze the whole time.

Pinned by blue eyes and a wicked mouth, Marshall slowly lost his mind. He watched his cock disappear into Elijah's mouth, every inch hot and wet and then Elijah did something with his tongue that he was sure he'd never felt before. Memories of all the women who'd ever done this to him faded as Elijah swirled his tongue around his length as he somehow kept up the suction. As much as he wanted it to last forever he knew he couldn't possibly, now that his obsession was kneeling in front of him sucking his cock.

Elijah seemed to sense this; he varied his pace and strokes to keep Marshall on the edge. Soon he had his hands buried in Elijah's hair, gasping his name, forgetting his own. Lost, out of control, he was soon fucking Elijah's talented mouth, and the younger man took every thrust.

Finally, Marshall knew he was close; nothing in the world could have held off his climax much longer. His eyes had been tightly shut; but he pried them open. He wanted to see Elijah's face as he came. He wanted to remember this forever.

He looked down; Elijah looked like an angel even with a cock in his mouth. As Marshall watched, Elijah slid his hand into his opened jeans and wrapped his free hand around his own arousal. A fresh wave of intense desire spiked through him as he watched Elijah stroke himself; it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen in his life. Elijah realized he was watching, and increased the speed of his mouth and his hand.

It was too much. "I'm going... to..." he tried to warn Elijah but ended up screaming his name as white hot pleasure knifed through him, ecstasy so intense it was almost painful, and he emptied his desire into Elijah's mouth. He forced his eyes to stay open as he climaxed; he wanted to watch Elijah touch himself. He watched as Elijah swallowed, and drew back, licking his lips. He stroked himself a few more times before gracefully getting to his feet. Marshall stood, breathing heavily, still watching Elijah intently.

"Did you like that?" Elijah asked teasingly, as the answer was obvious. Marshall nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. "God, you looked so good when you were coming," Elijah continued. His hand slipped back into his open pants, stroking again. "I almost came, just from looking at you." He watched Marshall closely. "You like to watch me, don't you?" Again, Marshall nodded. Elijah took a small step back so the other man had a clearer view. "You want to watch me touch myself?"

"Yes," Marshall finally hissed, his cock threatening to come back to life again already. "You're so fucking hot."

Elijah smiled then, and stroked faster, pulling his shirt up so Marshall could see better. "You're pretty fucking hot yourself, Marshall," he replied, his voice roughening with passion. "You have no idea what it does to me to see you standing there, watching me."

Marshall pulled up his pants, but didn't take his eyes off Elijah. "Tell me," he urged.

Elijah started rocking his hips, thrusting his cock into his own hand, and his face was flushed. "It makes me so hard, to see you watching me like that... now that I know what you look like when you come..." He stroked faster, and Marshall could tell that he was close. "It makes me want to be fucked by you, Marshall," he moaned, and Marshall took a step closer. Suddenly he wanted to touch, too. Elijah looked at him. "You want to fuck me, Marshall? Bend me over, shove that huge cock of yours into my tight little ass?"

"Fuck yes," he answered, "I want it, Elijah..."

"Good... cause I'm not done with you yet..." Elijah stopped stroking, reached out and grabbed Marshall's hand. He brought it slowly to his arousal, giving the other man plenty of time to refuse. But he didn't, he just looked down at Elijah and bit his lip. "Have you ever touched another man's cock, Marshall?" Elijah asked as he placed Marshall's fingers around his length, moaning as they made contact. "A man knows just how to touch another man, you know," he added, putting his own hand over Marshall's and guiding it up and down. "Oh yes," he hissed, letting his head fall back as Marshall tightened his grip, starting to stroke on his own. But he left his own hand on top. He urged Marshall to stroke faster.

The feel of another cock in his hand was at once both familiar and strange. He did know just how to stroke, just how he liked it anyway, and it felt natural somehow. Elijah wasn't as big as he was, but he was thick, and he could tell from the clear fluid at the tip of his cock that Elijah was very close to release. Those blue eyes looked up at him as he gained confidence, moving as close as he could and still get his hand between. He bent down slightly and pressed his lips to Elijah's, slightly startled by his own taste but the mouth on his was too perfect. He kissed Elijah, and stroked his cock, bringing his free hand up to the back of the other man's neck.

Elijah broke the kiss, because he was panting for air and about to climax. "Marshall," he moaned, and the sound of that voice saying his name was something Marshall wanted to hear again and again.

Marshall sped up his hand, and Elijah's dropped away at last, letting him take over completely. One of Elijah's hands gripped Marshall's bicep for support, and with an erotic cry he came, murmuring Marshall's name over and over as his seed pulsed out on his stomach.

Entranced, Marshall watched Elijah's face as he rode out the pleasure he had given him. When Elijah was finished, Marshall gathered him into his arms more gently than anyone, including himself, would have believed. He guided them over to the couch, and as they caught their breath, he vowed to himself that this encounter wouldn't be their last.

The End?