Nick had lost the bet. He sighed. He was constantly reminding himself that he should never bet against AJ. The man always won. He had like psychic abilities or something. Nick
shoved his hands in his pockets and thought to himself that AJ should play the fucking lottery instead of making bets with him. He looked up at the numbers on the door. 1537. One large bodyguard stood outside the door looking rather menacing. Nick sighed
again. “Hey,” he said to the bodyguard. He got a nod inresponse. Nick cleared his throat. “Um, can I knock?”
“Mr. Mathers does not want to bothered right now,” he was told.
Nick nodded again. “But you see… I need to talk to him..um… about something…”
The bodyguard smirked. “I’ll see if he wants to talk to you. Don’t move.”
Nick leaned against the wall. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The bodyguard disappeared into the room. He heard distinct laughter from inside then a familiar blond rapper opened the door. “What the fuck do you want, Carter?”
“Mr. Mathers,” Nick smirked.
“You here to get your ass kicked?” Eminem asked, letting his bodyguard back into the hallway then leaning against the doorframe, mimicking Nick’s lean against the wall.
Nick took in the older man’s wifebeater and gray baggie sweatpants. “I hope not. I was kinda hoping to come inside so we could talk though.”
Eminem laughed. He actually laughed. “A Backstreet Boy wants in my room. You trying to get in my pants?”
Nick shook his head. “Not tonight. Maybe I’ll try that next week.”
Eminem’s laughter stopped. “What the fuck do you want, Carter?”
“I lost a bet and I need to pay up.”
The infamous smirk appeared across Em’s features. He opened the door wider to let Nick pass into the room. Before closing the door, Em leaned in towards his bodyguard and whispered, “If you hear him scream, don’t worry. I’ll clean up the blood before morning.”
The bodyguard was laughing as the door closed. Em found Nick splayed out across his bed, flipping through channels on his tv. “What the fuck is this? If this is what you came to do get the fuck out.”
Nick clicked off the tv. “It isn’t. Like I said I lost a bet.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Nick whispered, blushing.
“So what’s your pay up? Coming back with a black eye signed by me?” Em smirked, crossing his arms over his chest and planting his feet.
“Something like that,” Nick mumbled. He cleared his throat then said, “I do need you to sign something though.”
“You need me to SIGN something?” Em laughed. “I should fucking beat the shit out of you now to save time.”
“Maybe…” Nick was starting to get nervous. He didn’t want to be there anymore. He knew he had size on Eminem, but that bodyguard outside could definitely take him out.
“So what the fuck do I have to sign that will get you the fuck out of my suite?” Em asked, moving closer to Nick.
“My ass,” Nick said, looking down at his hands.
“Excuse me?” Eminem’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenched at his side.
Nick sighed and closed his eyes. “I have to come back with your signature on my ass.” He waited for the blow. His eyes tight, his muscles clenched. It never came. Instead, he heard roaring laughter and saw Em holding his stomach.
“I need to sign your ass?! Oh shit,” he laughed.
Nick sighed again. “Can we do this now so I can go back to my suite and deal with my humiliation?”
Em visibly shook himself, trying to get composed. “But Nick Carter is in my suite asking for my autograph on his ass,” he said, batting his eyelashes. “Hold on. I gotta get Dre on the phone. He won’t fucking believe this.”
He was stopped by a hand on his elbow. “Please…don’t.” Nick’s eyes pleaded with him.
Em grumbled. He was definitely going to call Dre afterwards then. “What do I get in return if I do this?”
Nick’s eyes widened. Return? What? “Well… what do you want?”
Em’s eyes changed. The pale blue turned into a deep ocean blue that Nick recognized to be pure lust. “What are you willing to offer?”
“Um… I’ll blow you?” Nick answered, hesitating slightly.
“Then bend the fuck over and drop `em.”
Nick did just that, dropping his pants down to his ankles and bending over on the bed. “Don’t press too hard.”
Em went to grab a Sharpie from his bag… and his Polaroid camera. He signed Nick’s ass “Marshall Mathers was here” and took a picture of it. “Fuck! That wasn’t in the deal!” Nick gasped, trying to pull up his pants.
Em started laughing and counteracting Nick’s progress in pulling up his pants. “Hold on, Carter. I didn’t say you could pull up your pants.”
“You fucking signed, that’s all I needed,” he answered, trying to push the older man off.
“Yeah, but I changed my mind on what I want. I signed Marshall Mathers was here. I can’t exactly sign that without actually being there now can I?”
For a moment, Nick was slightly confused. How can Eminem be on his ass? Oh.. Oohh… “Fuck no. You ain’t fucking me up the ass.”
“The fuck I ain’t.”
“I said I’d blow you.”
Em got up in the younger man’s face. “And I said I don’t want that anymore.”
Nick sighed. He bent back over on the bed. “Can’t you just do it between my thighs or something? It’s gonna fucking hurt.”
Em went to his bag and grabbed a condom and lube. “Sit still bitch and it won’t hurt that bad.”
Nick sighed and settled down on the bed. He was going to be fucked by Eminem. AJ was going to have a fucking field day with this one. Em slid a cold wet finger into Nick’s ass, pumping it in and out. Nick groaned and shifted on the bed. Okay, so that wasn’t THAT bad. A second finger was added and that one hurt like a bitch. He opened his mouth to protest just when Em hit his prostate. Fireworks went off beneath his eyelids. Nick groaned and pushed back against Em’s hand. He heard Eminem laugh.
“Fucking slut. I knew you’d open up.” He pushed in a third finger, scissoring them, stroking them over Nick’s prostate every so often. Fully satisfied that Nick was open enough for his cock, Em shed his clothing and got up onto the bed, straddling Nick’s
He positioned his cock at his entrance, rubbing the tip over the pucker, spreading the precum around, owning Nick’s ass. He heard Nick moan and slammed into him. “Oh fuck, Em!” Nick screamed.
Em smirked. His bodyguard was going to hear this. He didn’t give a fuck. He worked his cock in Nick’s ass hard, holding onto the younger man’s hips, feeling him move beneath him. Em watched as the tattoos on Nick’s back danced with their movements.
He groaned and licked along Nick’s shoulder, making the younger man shudder. Gripping Nick’s hips tighter, he drove into his ass deeper, rubbing the head of his cock over Nick’s prostate. Nick’s hands gripped at the sheets, moaning now with each pump inside his
body. He bucked his hips in time with Em’s movements, fucking himself into the mattress. He gripped onto the pillow, bringing it to his mouth and biting it hard. One more stroke. That’s all it’s gonna take. One more stroke. Em hit Nick’s prostate again,
biting his shoulder hard. Nick screamed into the pillow, watching the
fireworks display on the backs of his eyelids. Somewhere in the not
so far distance he heard Eminem moan his name as white hot heat
spilled into his ass.
Em pulled out and fell next to Nick on the bed. “Oh fuck,” he groaned. Nick let go of the pillow, noticing the nice teeth marks and wet spots on it. Em smacked his ass. “Now go gloat to AJ that you just got fucked by Eminem,” he said and stalked into the bathroom.
When he heard the shower start, Nick got up and put on his clothes. He groaned. He had to show AJ the signature with a just fucked asshole. Fan-fucking-tastic. He wasn’t going to hear the end of this for months. He walked out the door with a little nod to Eminem’s bodyguard and back down the hall to the elevators.
Waiting for the elevator, he made the decision that never, ever again under no circumstances was he EVER going to make anymore bets with AJ McLean. That man just doesn’t know how to lose.