Date: Mon, 17 Jan 2005 19:38:50 -0800 (PST)
From: Urban <urbanluver@yahoo.com>
Subject: Rap Mash Ups: Hollyhood

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of erotic
gay fiction. By reading this material you affirm that
you are acting within the limits of your local laws
and ordnances. No inference is made as to the sexual
preference of any actual person appearing in this
story, nor should the reader make any such inferences.
This story is not meant to imply anything about the
true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned.

RAP MASH UPS: HOLLYHOOD

Copyright 2005

Nas ran a hand over his face in frustration. "What the
fuck does he want?"

He heard mutters of agreement around him from some of
the extras on the movie set, but it did little to ease
his irritation. They had almost wrapped the film's
shoot except for this last scene which would appear
early in the actual movie. For some reason, the
director had not been satisfied with any variation on
the scene they had tried, so they had been forced to
try it again and again.

"Nigga, quit fumbling over yo lines and maybe we can
get the fuck up out of here!" Nas shouted over to his
costar.

DMX grunted with a guttural growl and jokingly flipped
Nas off.

Nas laughed and took a seat while the production crew
set up for another attempt. DMX wandered over to him
and leaned against the near wall. "Yo dogg, this shit
is crazy."

"Hollywood," Nas grinned.

"Fuck that," DMX grumbled, the extra hours spent in
the gym showing obvious results on his dark frame. He
had wanted to be ripped for the movie and he had
achieved it. He looked all the part of someone who
could deal serious damage.

Nas felt his eyes linger on his frame, taking in the
defined curves of the rapper's arms.

"I'm beat as hell," Nas sighed, stretching back into
his chair with a yawn. "We done this good ten takes
ago."

Movement from the production grew increased as the
setup for the shot was nearing completion. "Yo dogg,
you want to have some fun with this shit?"

Nas cocked an eye at his costar. "What you mean?"

DMX flashed teeth like a predator, "Trust me. Just
roll with this shit."

"Aiight," Nas chuckled lightly, the fatigue in his
demeanor taking the excitement of another one of DMX's
pranks out of him.

The actors were called to take their places once again
to try the shot.

"Ey, we gonna switch this one up and get with it this
time," DMX called to the director.

His face hidden behind numerous monitors, only the
voice of the director could be heard, "Just remember
we've already shot all of these characters in later
scenes so they've got to make it out of this scene
alive."

"No doubt," DMX barked, the wicked playfulness growing
in his eyes.

"Fuck," Nas sighed to himself, unsure what the rapper
had in mind.

But once again he found himself looking at the man
with something other than mutual respect. The two
rappers had been no strangers to each other over the
years. The industry wasn't that big. But they had
rarely spent as much time together as they had now,
thanks to the movie venture. Over the long months
during the shoot, they had spent the majority of their
time together either on the set or off like two
life-long friends.

It had been easy. They had taken to each other
quickly. Kicking back at each other's place catching a
fight on TV, or seeing who could pick up the most hoes
in one night. It had been just like hanging out with
one of his boys from back in the day before all the
fame. Back when life was simple and hard. Back when
you were too worried about your next meal to be
thinking of the crazy shit his mind now turned to...

Nas licked his lips unconsciously as he watched the
rapper.

It was crazy shit, he decided. Being young and rich
afforded you all kinds of chances to try things you
never thought you'd try. Most of it was freely offered
to you, either in hopes of getting close to your fame
or as a desperate attempt to attain some. Drugs,
girls, whatever you wanted, it was there.

Waiting.

He smoothed out his pant leg and brushed against the
edge of his dick which was harder than it should be.

Over the years would-be-rappers had tried everything
to bend his ear. Anything to get him to listen to
their tapes hoping that they could be the next big
thing. The next rapper to take his place. Some would
do anything for the chance, especially the ones who
knew their talent would take them only so far.

Groupies were not all women.

"And action," a voice called, breaking Nas out of his
thoughts.

The scene should have been an easy one, Nas thought.
DMX and his character were counting money in their
basement along with their crew when the loyalty of one
of their own is questioned. He had seen it many times
in real life.

"What the fuck are you doin?!" DMX shouted at one of
the other actors who had pushed by him.

Nas hoped this would be the last take, and tried to
remember his mark. His part was easy. Just react to
the situation unfolding.

"Fuck you, nigga", the angry actor cursed, making his
way across the studio.

DMX whipped out the fake gun tucked in his jeans and
cocked it with venom. He fired a single blank at the
target, aiming to miss.

"Alright!" the actor screamed, portraying his
character dutifully. "Alright!"

DMX glanced at Nas for an unscripted moment and Nas
knew the improvisation was about to begin.

"Strip, nigga!" DMX barked, his eyes now locked on the
frightened actor.

For a moment Nas could see the confusion in the
actor's eyes. What had he said?

But DMX was in control of the prop gun and fired off
another round. "Strip, nigga!"

Fake or not, the gun was deafening. It's presence
alone was enough to make anyone uneasy, not to mention
if it was pointed directly at you. The momentary
hesitation in the actor was quickly replaced with
haste as he became wholly part of the scene.

Nas could see the actor visibly shaking, but whether
this was acting or real fear, he couldn't be sure. He
found himself grinning at the thought that even his
own costars never knew what to expect from DMX.

The actor began quickly unbuttoning his shirt.

"Strip!" DMX shouted again like a mantra, firing the
prop gun at the actor's feet.

Nas got back into character and egged DMX on. "Look at
that nigga."

The actor pealed off his shirt, kicked off his shoes,
then dropped both his pants and underwear down to his
ankles in a single movement. Before the whole
situation of what had happened could sink in, the
actor was sitting naked on a couch in front of cast
and crew.

DMX, still in character, brandished the prop gun to
show his superiority. He was the leader. He had just
shown his authority by demoralizing someone who had
disrespected him.

Damn, Nas thought to himself. This shit may really
work.

"Fuck you, B," the shaken actor muttered, his face wet
with tears. "You'll get yours."

"And cut!" a voice from behind the scenes called.
"That looked beautiful, guys. Let's do that same thing
one more time..."

Nas rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," DMX grinned, playfully pushing Nas back. "See
that, nigga."

"You crazy as hell, nigga," Nas laughed, his mind
aware of the other cast and crew around him
congratulating each other on the final scene while his
eyes could not leave his costar.

DMX was unreadable, the same predatory gleam in his
eyes vibrant but unyielding. What was he thinking
behind that steel?

An hour later, the director had tweaked DMX's ideal
into a workable scene and they were wrapped for the
very last time on the shoot. It was definitely less
work than rapping, Nas decided, but the monotony of it
all was something he couldn't deal with on a regular
basis. At least when he was performing it was always
in a different city, a different crowd, a different
story. But the movie biz was crazy. Still, it was easy
money and if nothing else, an excuse to know one of
his fellow artists better...

"You look like shit, nigga," DMX said as the set began
to clear of actor and crew alike. "You need to come
over to my crib and blaze a few trees to celebrate."

"Aiight, that's what I'm talking about. Let me hit the
shower and I'll meet you at your place in like an
hour-thirty."

"That's straight, son. I'll be there."

As Nas made it back to the house he was renting while
the movie was being shot, he thought back on his own
wild days and figured DMX's own stories were no doubt
similar. There was something in the way the rapper had
looked at him lately, something that was just below
the surface. Then again, maybe he was just seeing what
he wanted to see.

"Fuck," he thought. "I ain't gay. Why am I sweatin
this nigga?"

There had been times when he had let a nigga suck his
dick. But that had been because there were no females
around or he just didn't feel like being bothered with
all the shit females tried to bring his way. He didn't
want to have to deal with the groupies trying to get
pregnant so they could be set financially for life.
Sometimes it was just more convenient to bust a nut
off in some nigga's throat and be done with it.

But he never fantasized about another dude. At least,
not until recently.

"I'm buggin," he thought, climbing under the powerful
jets of his shower. "A nigga been too long without
some good pussy, that's all."

Though no matter how hard he tried to push the
thoughts out of his mind, images of DMX returned. He
remembered how it felt to be near his friend, to feel
the closeness. The smell of his body or the feel of
his arm as it brushed against him.

There was a longing there that he couldn't bring
himself to admit. It was one thing to let another dude
suck your dick when you needed a release. It was
another to go searching for a dude when you had your
pick of females. Before it was always a matter of
circumstance. This time it would be by choice.

That made all the difference.

The warm water running down his face did wonders to
wash away the fatigue of the day, but it did little
the cleans his troubled mind. Steam curled around him
and lay heavy in the air and he took a moment to savor
its feeling before turning the water off and opening
the shower door.

The bathroom was large enough to be a day spa with
ample room for massive, dark wood furniture and a
sitting area complete with a small sofa. It was on
this sofa that DMX sat, his body angled back against
one of the arm rests and one leg bent slightly at the
knee.

He was like a mirage with the thick steam giving the
room a dream-like appearance, and for a moment Nas
couldn't decide if the rapper wasn't more than just
some hallucination from a too-hot shower.

"Your door was unlocked, dogg," DMX said, his voice so
cool and even against the thunder in Nas' ears.

Of course Nas knew that was a lie. He never left his
door unlocked.

DMX's features began to slowly materialize as the
steam in the room dissipated. That same steely gleam
was in his eyes which seemed, for a moment, to dip
down Nas' naked body.

Trying to appear unfazed, Nas retrieved a towel and
wrapped it around his waste to hide what was becoming
a growing problem. "It's cool. I said I'd meet you at
your crib."

"I know," the dark man smiled, his eyes slightly red
as though he had already started smoking without Nas.
"I was in your hood."

Nas felt the man's eyes soaking him in. It was
unmistakable now. The rapper's eyes were drinking
every part of his body with slow deliberation. His own
blood felt hot, like the steam once in the room had
now found it's way into his veins.

"Your shit's fillin out nicely, son," DMX said, his
speech slow and softer than usual. His eyes were
fixated on Nas' chest. "Shit looks tight."

"Thanks," he managed to reply, although the words seem
to have gotten lost in his throat. "Tryin to get cut
like you."

DMX stood, his movement fluid, and walked over to his
friend. He stood mere inches away from him now, so
close Nas could even smell the hint of weed still on
his breath. DMX seem fixated on Nas' lips as he spoke.
"That right?"

Nas stood uneasy. The growing weight between his legs
strained uncomfortably against his towel as he
struggled to appear unaffected. His arms seemed heavy
and impossible to move and no version of  his posture
felt natural.

"Why you so quiet, nigga," DMX said, now mostly a
whisper. His head was cocked slightly to one side but
his eyes still lingered on Nas' lips. He reached out
and slid a finger under the fold of towel at the
waist.

Nas froze, his heart now thundering in his chest as he
felt his body will DMX's hand to explore further. But
he could say nothing.

DMX smiled and in a single motion, pulled the towel
off, letting it pool on the floor below. Nas held his
breath as the air touched his dick and the rapper
before him held both hands onto his hips.

Nas was weak as if the anticipation of touch had
demanded all the strength he had had. A heavy breath
escaped him as the hands lightly slid up his sides and
around his back. DMX pulled the rapper into him,
firmly. Nas felt his dick bend against his friend as
their lips met. He closed his eyes as the full lips
surrounded his, sucking them first until at last their
tongues touched.

"Damn nigga," DMX grinned, his own erection now
rubbing against Nas.

Nas slipped his hands under DMX's white wife beater
and pulled the shirt off, revealing the toned body
underneath. A light patch of hair covered the man's
defined pecs and he took a moment to explore each
nipple with his fingers.

In the next moment, the jeans and boxers that had once
held DMX's throbbing erection at bay had been removed,
leaving the two rappers naked. DMX grabbed a handful
of ass as he pull Nas into him for another kiss, this
time rough and aggressive. Nas surrendered.

He felt his friends hands roughly prying his ass
cheeks apart, searching for their prize. For a moment,
Nas wanted to back away. It was all happening too
fast, but DMX strengthened his grip and silenced Nas
by plunging his tongue deeper into his mouth.

Nas closed his eyes and released his control.

DMX's finger was now circling his asshole already damp
with sweat and anticipation. Even in his relaxed
state, though, he winced as the first finger violated
his body and plunged into his hot hole.

Nas groaned, giving DMX free reign to lick his neck
while he continued loosening up his prize.

"I'ma fuck tha hell out of you," DMX whispered, his
voice hot against Nas' neck.

The muscular rapper turned Nas around and gripped the
back of his neck. He bent the rapper over the arm of
the sofa, never once lessening his grip. He was in
control and he wanted there to be no questioning it.

Nas submitted, feeling the cool air against his
exposed asshole now which was still wet with
perspiration and by the prodding of DMX's fingers.
Thoughts suddenly jumbled in Nas' mind. What would
this make him? If he let DMX fuck him, he felt
everybody that saw him would know his secret shame.

They would know.

He struggled for a minute to raise up but DMX put his
hand on his back to steady him. "Ease up, nigga. I'll
go slow."

The two halves of him fought, but the stronger of the
two won. Deep down, he wanted to be taken. All that
mattered was this moment. Shit, probably half the
industry had had to suck someone's nuts once or twice
to get ahead in the game. Nobody would know.

He felt DMX steady his dick, still hard as steel, at
his rectum.

"Yo man, get some lube," Nas pleaded.

"Aiight," DMX said, his voice a gruff whisper. He spat
directly onto Nas' exposed ass and a wad of saliva
pooled at his hole. "Hold still, nigga."

The pressure was intense even at the begging. As DMX
continued pressure on his ass, his body burned in
fire. Nas moaned in pain as his body shook. Like a
wicked hot poker being driven up his bowels, DMX's
dick pushed forward, ripping away his virginity.

Nas buried his face in the sofa pillows, his senses
screaming all the while.

"Yeah," DMX groaned. "You almost got it, nigga."

Nas cursed and his body trembled. Sweat soaked the
pillow and his muscles ached from being rigid for so
long. Part of him wanted this all to stop. Part of him
knew it was too late already.

"Relax, nigga."

Nas bit down on the pillow. How the fuck could he
relax with a dick stuck up his ass, tearing flesh.

DMX kneaded the muscles on Nas' back with his hands.
The movement was firm enough to distract him from the
pain that was flooding his body. He seized upon the
sensation of the rapper's fingers, feeling them mold
his skin and explore his back.

He felt his breathing ease, the rigidness of his body
fade.

His face was wet with tears but DMX continued to
massage his back, whispering softly to him, "Yeah,
nigga. Shit feels so good, boy."

The pain that had crippled him was gone now and in
it's place only a feeling of fullness. He stretched
out his arms that had become crapped from tension and
felt the cool air revive him.

"Yeah, boy," Nas croaked, his voice like a man's that
had emerged from a desert.

Encouraged, DMX quickened his pace. Short, slow
strokes lengthened and grew faster and his dick slide
with greater ease into Nas' ass.

"I been dreamin about this ass, nigga," DMX said,
giving a cheek a slap as he thrust into it.

Fuck me.

Nas gripped the dick with his ass and milked it with
friction. He savored the feeling of strength radiating
from his fellow artist. There was a security there, of
knowing that he had everything handled.

Nas released himself and allowed the sensation to
consume him.

DMX's speed quickened, his once fluid strokes now
faster and more erratic.

He was nearing his end.

"Fuck that ass," Nas grunted, the friction of his dick
against the sofa's armrest maintaining his erection
every time DMX fucked him.

DMX's breaths were labored, his grunts deep and
distant like he was fighting to stay in the game. The
sounds of flesh slapping filled Nas with lust and he
threw his ass back to meet each stroke. To feel every
inch the man had to give him.

"Aw shit," DMX cursed, his arms trembling for a moment
as he gripped Nas' sides.

Then hot spurts flooded his ass and Nas knew he was
being bred. He grabbed his dick and stroked it, hard
and fast. It was raw from rubbing against the sofa but
he jerked it with fervor as the warm liquid in his
bowels slid down his thighs.

"Cum nigga."

And he did, throwing his body up and back into the
arms of DMX, his thick ropes of cum arched across the
sofa until his body had been cleansed and he slid down
onto the couch exhausted.

With his eyes closed, he smelled the evidence. The
aroma of sex and primal lust was heavy in the air. His
ass ached but he would live. The worst had been over.

He heard rustling by his side and opened his eyes to
see DMX slipping back into his clothes as he wiped his
dick on a washcloth.

For a moment he found himself wanting something more.
Affection.

But he knew what had happened. He had been through
this many time before, just never on this end of the
game. How many times had he used a woman to satisfy
his dick, only to bounce as soon as it was over.
Sometimes he didn't even hang around to help her get a
nut. Sometimes he just left.

Now he felt it.

"I'm tired as fuck, nigga," DMX sighed, slipping his
shirt over his head.  "How long are you stickin around
here?"

Now that the movie was wrapped, there was no need for
him to stay in the city any longer. He could return
home and pick up with his music where he left off.

"Probably go back next week," he said, catching the
washcloth DMX tossed him and wiping up the cum that
had dripped on him.

"I feel you. We'll have to hook up before you leave."

"Yeah," he said, his voice flat. It had just been a
nut. He knew that going in. Then why did he feel so
disappointed. What had he expected to happen? A
relationship?

I ain't gay.

"I'll holla, nigga," DMX called, his hand turning the
door of the bathroom.

"One," Nas called back, watching the dark figure
disappear out the doorway.

He needed another shower now and something to eat. It
had been a long movie shoot.

Hollywood.

He'd be glad to get back home.