The Parasite | Eminem

24

- Marshall's Perspective -

"Oh shit- fuck, there, there!" She shouts, throwing her head back, eyes closed.
I'm sure you're not supposed to have sex in your dressing room, but I'm usually the one to break all the rules.
Her skin is warm, glistening with sweat.
Even when she sweats, she smells so fucking good.
Everything about her is calculated.
I'm starting to understand that.

She makes you see what she wants you to see.
Everything you could ever think about her, anything you could say, she's planned it.
If she wanted you to think she was a saint, she could make you believe.
If she wanted.

"Marshall, harder, shit!" She demands, arms wrapped around my shoulders as I fuck her against the vanity mirror.
Hoisted up onto the counter, several items have been knocked off thanks to my forceful thrusts, slamming into her.
Her noises are low and hungry.
They drive me further, going as hard as I can.
It's as if I'm trying to hurt her, yet she likes it that way.

Her short hair bounces, her pussy tightens around me.
Fuck, she feels so fucking good.
She feels like salvation- Emancipation- Deliverance- any other synonym.

"Goddamn it Marlow" I grunt, giving it to her like punishment.
Maybe it's in moments like this that she feels she's repenting.

She's like a viral parasite, she spreads everywhere.
She'll take over everything, every part of you, and you still want more.
She becomes the host.
She becomes an addiction.
I'm obsessed, and it's absolutely not healthy.
At any moment she could toss me to the curb, and I wouldn't have any right to be surprised.

"I'm- I'm almost there- fuck" she breathes out, already sounding at the height of the human experience.
She's all encapsulating, her eyes rolling back, plump lips left agape.
"I'm- coming, Mhm, Marsh-"
Her eyelashes flutter in a moment of pure bliss, she chokes out a whimper, something completely foreign to her, and I'm busting instantly.
If a girl tells a guy that she's gonna come, best believe he's gonna bust instantly.
Her noises, fuck, they're just the cherry on top.

Her hands come to my jaw, she gives me those fucking eyes, the ones that tell me I'm everything she needs.
The one that tell me I've fulfilled my purpose, I've pleased her perfectly, fuck I could swim in those eyes.
"You're going to win all of those fucking awards." She tells me before her teeth reach out for my bottom lip.
She divulges in my lips, giving me a sloppy and delicious kiss.
Even her mouth.
Fuck, it tastes like cinnamon and cigarettes.

I pull my lips from hers, grinning in pure intoxication, "You think so?"

She smirks at me.
That knowledgeable, seductive smirk.
"I don't say things unless I mean them" she whispers lowly.
Right, how stupid of me to even ask.

I chuckle, pulling out of her hesitantly.
If I had enough time for a second round, I would gladly take it.
"You gonna sit with us?" I ask, hoping she says yes.
She doesn't seem interested in the whole award show thing.
Don't get me wrong, I think it's bullshit, but it'd be nice is she came and sat in the audience with me.

She grabs her black corset up from the floor, pulling it back around herself and doing up the tight metal clasps.
I watch as it presses her tits in tight, showing off everything perfect she's got going.
I suggested she wear something more feminine, I didn't think she'd go all out.
I'm not complaining.
She remains silent for a few moments, letting the question linger in the air.

"Sure, why not" she shrugs before straightening out her black leather pleated skirt.
I could easily tear all of it off her again.
I need to look away, staring down at my feet awkwardly.
No way I'm getting hard again.