Disclaimer: This story is not meant to imply anything about the true sexuality or personal lives of the celebrities mentioned.
NEEDING YOU By Neqs Chapter 4
A schema is a general term for a conventional knowledge structure that exists in memory. We use these schemata to interpret what we experience or hear about. For example, everybody knows what a supermarket is and what kinds of things are found there. One particular type of schema is a 'script'. Scripts are dynamic schemata, involving a series of conventional actions taking place. We have a script for 'Going to the dentist' or 'Eating in a restaurant.' As Lance snuggled closer to Marshall Mathers on the sofa in the candle-lit hotel suite, he decided that the evening had so far followed and surpassed his personal interpretation of the script for a perfect first date.
His fears had been allayed by the openly admiring gaze the rapper had directed at him the minute he opened the door. Lance lowered his eyes demurely, a bit pissed at himself for acting like a schoolgirl. He cleared his throat, lifted his eyes from his shoes, and smiled a little more confidently at the man before him.
"Hi Marshall," he said quietly. "Can I come in?"
"Sure!" replied the slightly flushed rapper. "You look great!" was all he could get out of his previously gaping mouth. He stepped aside and opened the door wider to let the singer enter.
"Oh my goodness!" Lance exclaimed in a hushed voice, unsure whether the vision before him was just an apparition. But it was still the same when he blinked his eyes. The hotel suite was decorated with lighted white candles all around. The lights were dimmed and some soft, soaring music was playing. The linen-covered table was decked with inviting-looking plates of food, discreetly glinting silver eating utensils, and wine glasses. There was also a bottle of red wine, opened beforehand to let the wine breathe. In the exact centre of the table there was a tall marble candle.
It was all a bit much, Lance thought, but he decided that he didn't mind it at all. The evening he'd had so many apprehensions about was off to a great start. 'But wait,' he thought, alarmed, 'everything else is just perfect, but where are my flowers?' he demanded in the silence of his mind, even a bit amused at his sudden perfectionism. When he turned to face his host and date for the night, he came face to face with a cream-coloured, absolutely perfectly formed rose. He had to smile.
"Why, thank you!" Lance said, delicately sniffing the lovely offering. "It's beautiful, and everything seems so wonderful. You've made a real effort for this night, Marshall."
"You can call me Em, if you want," the rapper answered, rubbing the back of his neck, a little abashed. "I don't let everybody call me that, you know. But you can if you want."
"Sure," Lance said, surprised and pleased. "If you want, you can call me James. Only my family uses that name."
After the nomenclature had been agreed on, they'd moved over to the table. The delicious aromas that wafted up from the still-steaming dishes confirmed that they were both quite hungry, even though Marshall had eaten breakfast only two hours before. Marshall solicitously helped Lance into his chair, and then seated himself across the table.
"Would you like some wine?" he asked the blonde, reaching for the bottle.
"Actually, I don't really like wine. Could I have a coke or something?" Lance said, his dislike for the taste of red wine overriding his mild embarrassment for asking the question.
Marshall blinked, then he grinned broadly. "I'm not into that fancy shit much either, it just seemed appropriate. Does this mean I get to put ketchup on my pasta?" he asked impishly. Lance's answering laugh ran deep and cheerful. "Hand me some too, then!"
After that, the meal progressed on a much more relaxed and companionable note. They shared smiles as they enjoyed their pasta Bolognese with ketchup, sipping their cokes. They chatted little, both being too ravenous for deep, meaningful conversation. There'd be time for that later.
Lance sat on the sofa while Marshall ordered the movie. They'd decided on 'A Knight's Tale' because it was said to be funny and because Lance thought Heath Ledger was a wonderful actor.
"Did you see him in 'Ten Things I Hate About You'? He, uh, built the character very skilfully!" Lance said eagerly, making Marshall laugh.
"The fact that he is a total hottie wouldn't have anything to do with it, would it?" he teased the other man, not waiting for an answer before phoning their order.
"Of course not!" Lance protested laughingly. He was much more relaxed now that his belly was full of delicious pasta and the raspberries in white chocolate sauce that they'd had for dessert.
Waiting for the movie to begin, Lance and Marshall foraged the minibar for greasy snacks to munch on while watching the film. They arranged themselves comfortably on the sofa, both kicking their shoes off. Marshall propped his feet on the table in front of the sofa, and Lance lifted his feet to the sofa while hesitantly inching closer to the rapper.
"I won't bite, you know," Marshall commented. "Not you anyway, and only when my image needs to be 'meanified', or when some stupid fucker keeps bugging me for no reason," he continued before raising the arm closer to Lance to the back of the sofa. "Now come here, James," he instructed.
Lance almost managed to hide his blush as he snuggled under the rapper's arm, resting his blond head on the well-formed chest. 'Not too hard to be amazingly comfy, though,' Lance mused happily.
They watched the film in comfortable silence. Lance was enraptured by the events on the TV screen, distractedly munching on some peanuts, while Marshall was more interested in the young man snuggling into him. Every once in a while, he'd glance at the blond head under his left arm, which had long ago curled around the smaller form. 'I could really get used to this,' he thought.
Meanwhile, Lance was thinking almost exactly the same. While he wasn't too busy ogling Heath Ledger, that is. 'This has been so nice. It feels so good just to be held like this. We need to talk things through, though. I need to know where I stand and where Em sees us going. God I sound like a girl.'
As the end credits began to roll, Lance pulled back from his snuggle. "Could I have another coke, please?" he asked his host. "Those salty munchies made me real thirsty!"
"Sure," Marshall said, standing up and stretching before complying the request, bringing himself a soda too.
"So how did you like the movie?" he asked while handing Lance his drink.
"Oh Em, it was great! All that jousting and sword-fighting was really neat," Lance gushed, waving his arms enthusiastically. "And it was so romantic."
"I think they were a little confused about which century it was, though. I mean, I don't think they had the band Queen in those days, and what was the deal with that chick's outfits?" Marshall teased.
"Oh, you!" Lance huffed. "You wouldn't understand if I tried to explain you, so why bother," he jested.
"Are you calling me stupid, James?" Marshall asked mock-seriously.
"Of course not! I was just joking, I guess I'm not really funny. No, I think you're an extremely smart guy, please believe me," Lance tried to assure him, afraid that he'd hurt the other man's feelings.
"Gotcha!" Marshall shouted before cracking up, making Lance roll his eyes and smile a relieved smile.
"So how'd you spend your afternoon?" Lance asked, changing the subject to a less dangerous topic.
"I slept some more, took a bath, made the arrangements for tonight, and checked out your latest album," Marshall listed off.
"You actually listened to our music?" Lance was stunned. "So, did you, like, hate it?" he had to ask.
"Nah, some tracks were actually quite nice. I like other music than rap too, you know," Marshall answered the befuddled pop star.
This led to talk about their diverse musical tastes, which in turn led to deeper subjects. The conversation flowed effortlessly as both men were fascinated by the other's insights and opinions. They found out they both liked Alanis Morissette and Agatha Christie. They both hated olives and being trapped in an exaggerated image, and feared starting to believe their own PR. Finally the talk turned to relationships.
"My marriage was a mess," Marshall confessed bitterly. "I love my daughter Hailie, but the bitch Kim has got it arranged so that I get to see her only about once a month, and only for a few hours a time. The judges sided with her because I was pretty fucked up at the time," he said, sighing unhappily at the man facing him on the couch.
Lance grimaced sympathetically. "That's gotta be hard for you, Em. Me, I've never actually been in a relationship. I've dated a few girls for publicity's sake and had a few one-night-stands, but that's about it. Not many guys are ok with the secrecy and our crazy schedule anyway. It's a bit lonely, but I've got the best friends in the world, and a lot of work to distract me," Lance explained, knowing how small his problems were next to the rapper's troubles.
Marshall's thoughts were running on a completely different track. 'How could anyone miss seeing how special this guy is? I guess I should thank my fucking lucky stars that nobody has snatched him away yet.' Aloud he said: "I know exactly what you mean. It would have to be another celebrity to understand what goes with the job." He waited for the penny to drop.
"Yes," Lance agreed, and then the implications dawned to him. His green eyes widened in hope and shock, as they stayed glued to the rapper's piercing blue ones. "What do you mean?" he had to ask, just to make sure he hadn't misunderstood.
"I'm asking you to be my boyfriend, James. I like you and want to get to know you better. We seem to click, and we both understand where the other is coming from. I think we'd be good together," he finished almost nervously. 'Chill man, you're Marshall Mathers! If he's not interested he can just fuck off!' a hard voice was saying inside his head. 'No, that's your image speaking,' came another voice. 'Man, now I'm hearing voices. That's right Marshall, laugh at yourself. That's always healthy for your ego. Now, let's see what Lance has to say.'
Lance was stunned and overjoyed. "Yes!" rang his answer immediately. "I mean, I don't really know you that well, and you've got an awful reputation, but during our talks I've seen a smart, caring guy whose quirks I'd love to learn. I feel really good when I'm around you; we've got this weird chemistry. So yeah, let's be boyfriends."
Marshall beamed, and Lance beamed back at him, and everything was wonderfully sappy, I mean, happy!
The new couple stayed up for a few more hours chatting about everything and nothing, until Lance began to yawn every time he opened his mouth.
"You might have gone back to sleep after I left, but I spent my day slaving away in the studio. I really need to get some sleep Em," Lance mumbled sleepily.
"Will you stay? I don't think either of us is up to doing anything, but I became addicted to sleeping with you there with me last night. It'll be a nasty habit to grow out of, and I'll have to all to all too soon, but in the meantime I'll enjoy it while I can."
It felt a little weird at first, stripping off their clothing, doing all the things people usually do before going to bed. They luckily found an extra tooth brush in the bathroom for Lance; it would have been really odd for him to just step out and fetch his own from his room just down the hall. This way, they could act like they were in their own secret world, far away from band mates and work and reality.
The minor awkwardness vanished, however, the moment they came together in the middle of the bed. Their minds might be fuzzy about the night before, but their bodies remembered the position, legs intertwining as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was.
Both men let out an involuntary sigh of contentment as their arms wrapped themselves around necks and backs. Murmured goodnights sounded. Lance had something on his mind, though.
"Wait a minute mister, where's my goodnight kiss?" he drowsily complained to his boyfriend, who was happy to comply. The kiss was long, and sweet, and full of promises. It might have also eventually gotten them hot and bothered if Lance hadn't yawned into it.
Marshall laughed. "Go to sleep, James. You're half way there already. Might as well give into it. Now sleep tight, I'll be here when you wake up."
Lance smiled at him with heavy-lidded eyes and gave him one last sloppy kiss before burrowing his face into his neck. He gave an experimental lick.
"None of that or we'll never get to sleep!" Marshall warned his boyfriend. "I'm tempted to jump you right here, right now, but I've decided to save that for tomorrow. Besides, I really wouldn't appreciate you falling asleep during our first real sex together. I might have to spank you," he threatened.
Lance shivered, but not in fear. Well, maybe a little in fear but it was an exciting, tingly fear. "You do what you have to do," he responded with a smile in his voice.
Marshall looked down at the spiky blond head nestled in the crook of his neck and then up at the ceiling. 'Why me?' was his silent question, but he too was smiling when he one more time told his boyfriend to go to sleep. There were interesting times ahead.
Lance did as he was told. Marshall, who'd gone back to sleep after Lance had gone to work, wasn't all that sleepy. He occupied himself with rubbing his hand along the fascinating curve of his boyfriend's back. 'I'm definitely using that word too much. Boyfriend. Well, he is. I wonder how the tabloids would love to have that info. They'll have to make do without it, I'm not going public in the near future, if ever.' Marshall felt a tinge of something, couldn't be fear, no, as he thought how people would react to a gay Eminem. Sure, Elton John had offered to show his support if he needed it (they guy had a 20/20 gaydar), but the wave of negative reaction would be huge. No, better to stay safely in the closet, for the rest of his life, if need be. Only his closest friends knew of him, and they'd rather cut their tongues than give away his secret.
He'd been in gay relationships before, but they'd been discreet and based on sexual attraction and nothing else. Marshall had also always been the dominant partner, the one who did the fucking but who was never fucked. It had been as much a matter of his partners' insistence as his own preferences. He'd never been fucked, at least voluntarily. And not in a long, long time.
Marshall had continued to lightly rub Lance's back as if to give him comfort from the gloomy thoughts running through Marshall's head. The hand went up to pet Lance's hair, only to come back sticky. 'Those styling products have to go,' he decided before drifting to sleep.
Justin opened the door to the suite he and Josh shared, still a little moved from sending Lance on his way. 'I went a little over the top in the compliments, but they came straight from the heart. He's such and amazing person and the way he looked tonight just-'
Justin's line of thought was cut off entirely when he saw what was waiting for him. Or more specifically, when he saw the trail of clothes leading towards the bathroom his lover had left in his wake. He took the few steps and yanked the door open.
"Well hello there, studling," was the greeting he got from Josh, who was languorously lounging in the bathtub, his eyes and the steaming water reflecting the flickering light of the scented candles spread around the otherwise dim room. "Ready to receive your reward?"
Justin was.
TBC
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