Date: Tue, 09 Apr 2002 01:51:12 +0300
From: Neea P. <nea_1@hotmail.com>
Subject: (Boybands) Needing You chapter 4

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

Comments are greatly appreciated.  Please send some to nea_1@hotmail.com.
Even a "read it. didn't puke. feel free to write some more." is nice, if
you have nothing else to say.  Thanks for the wonderful feedback I've
received so far!