Emotional Boys 2000

31

•Marshall•
> You do such hot things

•Me•
> like what..?

•Marshall•
> exist

•Me•
> Smooth

•Marshall•
> YOU'RE SO COOL WHEN YOU DO THINGS LIKE WALK AND TALK... BREATHE, OH BABY

The text exchange this morning was adorable and I couldn't help feeling incredibly upbeat during work, almost ecstatic.

It's Wednesday, already the middle of the week, and Marshall is flying in until Friday night, which I'll be flying back to Detroit with him for the weekend. He doesn't have the girls with him this week, so he's coming to hang out and work in the Interscope studio while I'm at work.

We decided while he's here that I show him some good restaurants rather than us just eating in and watching movies. Not only that, but he wants us to go shopping for some form of matching outfits for the Grammys. He still wants to wear sweats, just he wants us sort of color coordinated. He better like dressing in black, though being honest, the most black I've seen him in is a simple tee-shirt, his Calvin Kleins, or on occasion a durag or bandana. He likes every color of sweats but is typically uninterested in the color black. I've only seen him wear black sweats for his Encore concert I went to, but other than that, he likes his whites, greys, and reds, really loves red.

"I'd like a reservation for about eight thirty for two if that's possible, the most private seat in the house is preferable, I've got a celebrity accompanying me, it's very important that the dinner isn't disturbed by fans or such, I'll pay whatever extra fee you need" on the phone with the restaurant, Matsuri, I look down at the day's dividends and price to earning ratios.

"Mhm, yes sir, we'll have that arranged for you, it will be an extra fee for one of our private sectioned-off rooms if that is what you'd like. The atmosphere is still the same so it will be sure to impress. So if you're interested in paying, it will be an extra cost of thirty-five dollars per hour added to your bill at the end of the night. Does that work for you?" I'm slightly on edge by the front desk lady calling me a 'sir' but I do get it on occasion, typically in person as they see my physical appearance and assume I'm a guy, not usually over the phone, but hey, my voice is pretty deep.

"Yes, that works perfectly, put down the last name as Domitia, that's D... O, M, I, T... I, A. Domitia" I agree simply, writing down a couple of digits, calculating a couple of things as I hear the sounds of a keyboard from her end, typing out my name and registering the reservation.

"Alright sir, thank you very much, we'll be happy to see you tonight, your accommodations will be made" the cherry Japanese accent-laced voice comes through the phone, signaling the call is coming to an end for me.

"I appreciate it, thank you" I hang up quickly, pleasantly surprised when I hear a couple of knocks on my front door. Exiting my bedroom, I'm shocked that Marshall didn't tell me he landed, I would have gone to the airport.

Unlocking it quickly, I stare at his soft face, lips turned up in a subtle smile, his hand containing a black duffel bag with which he usually travels with. He suddenly tosses it inside upon seeing me, bringing his arms around my waist and pulling us inside, and kicking the door closed behind us swiftly.

"It's only been a few days," I remark with a low giggle, feeling his lips come to my neck.

"Yeah, it's already been a few days since I've ripped your clothes off" he combats, grinning against my skin, cocky and excited.

"Mhm- Ah, Marshall fucking Christ, there!" his knee comes in contact with my clothed core, prying my legs open and rubbing against me harshly.

Pressing me up against the wall, his hands come to my tie, fingers attempting to undo it though failing miserably. He just fumbles around with it before giving up, going down to my belt as something to do instead. I giggle softly, his mouth still on my neck as I bring my own skilled fingers to my tie, undoing it quickly, having done so practically all of the last decade. I don't know if he's ever done a tie in his life more than three times at most.

He's quick to slide his hands under my pristine, non-wrinkled, white dress shirt, gripping at my concealed tits from the confines of my bra. 

I don't understand how he gets so needy so quickly, but when he's without me, he can either be seemingly unbothered or really sexually frustrated and impatient, at least from what he tells me in his texts or on call.

"I've got to get right back in this suit after you're done fucking me, you know that right?" I acknowledge with a sigh, a smile plastered on my lips considering the fact that I don't give two shits about that at all. 

"Not exactly this one... too corporate, sure you ain't got nothing cooler looking...?" he murmurs against my skin before bringing his teeth to the fabric of my button-up, taking his time as he tears it off, button by button, slowly as he stares up at me, knowing damn well how fucking attractive he looks while he's doing it. 

"Of course I do, can we do this in the bedroom though?" I inquire, not interested in being fucked on the hard marble floor like the last time. 

The first time we were on completely different terms, and his tone toward me was completely different. 

He doesn't answer with words, picking me up from under my ass, lifting my legs around his waist before walking me into the bedroom, and dropping me onto the bed quickly. 

Watching him climb on top of me, arms on either side as he grins, expression full of lust. His eyes narrow at me, teeth coming out to bite his bottom lip all most as if to control himself slightly. 

"take your panties off baby" he suggests, smirk intact as he sits up on his knees in between my legs, sliding down his sweats and boxers, quickly exposing me to his dick, hard and ready to be inside me, precum dripping off his tip, some of it sliding down his length, practically making my mouth water at the sight of it. 

All I think of at the moment is just to grab it, and I spare no time doing so. I sit up, gripping it and getting a shocked groan out of him. He looks down at me with a faintly startled expression, eyes wide and mouth suddenly agape. 

"Esdeath..? What are you-" he's cut off as I suddenly bring my lips to his tip, tongue rubbing against it, looking at his precious, intrigued eyes as I settle myself on my knees, hands pumping at his length. 

His moans come out breathy and flustered, soft and taken off guard. "More... please" he whines, throwing his head back, giving me a great view of his Adams apple, flexing beautifully. 

Fuck, everything about him is so fucking sexy... shit man...

I bring more of his warm, needy dick into my mouth, feeling it twitch subtly with appreciation, feeling accomplished as he moans loudly, feeling my tongue run along his length and tip, loving how caught off guard he is by me pleasing him.

Sure I give him blowjobs on occasion, but I don't think he was expecting me to be interested in pleasing him more than us both mutually. 

"Oh fuck Esdeath I love you! Yeah- hah... fuck, like that..." he pants helplessly, completely enthralled by the pleasure, bringing a hand to my hair, though keeping it dormant, not forcing more of himself inside. 

"Mmm, fuck, fuck! Keep rubbing up on it like that" he encourages, referring to my tongue rubbing against his tip, lapping against it, and doing whatever makes him moan the most.

He's got it good tonight. Blowjob and dinner at one of the best restaurants in New York City, not only that but in a private room... plus this doesn't count what will happen after dinner. lucky guy

He's adorable, the way he crumbles before me... I love admiring him, watching his reactions, watching to see what makes him tick.

I love him.