Intoxicated || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 67

Leila's POV

The sunlight streaming through the curtains only seemed to highlight the destruction from last night. The shattered glass from the vase, the broken lamp, and the couch—now a casualty of our chaos, leaning awkwardly with one leg snapped off—were all evidence of the storm we'd unleashed. But I couldn't bring myself to care about any of it. My body ached in ways that only came after a night of fierce, all-consuming passion. Every bruise, every tender spot reminded me how wild it had been—how wild we always were.

We hadn't even lasted on the couch. Now, we were sprawled on the floor, wrapped in the throw rug like it was the last thing holding us together. Marshall's arm was still draped over me, his bruised hand resting on my waist, fingers tracing patterns on my skin. His breath was warm on the back of my neck, steady, like the storm had finally passed.

I shifted slightly, groaning at the soreness that shot through my hips and thighs. My back ached where it had scraped against the brick wall, and my muscles felt like they'd been pushed to their limit. But even through the discomfort, there was a satisfaction that hummed in my bones.

"You alive?" Marshall's voice was thick with sleep but had that familiar teasing lilt to it.

"Barely," I muttered, stretching slightly under the throw rug. "I feel like I've been hit by a wrecking ball."

He chuckled, his chest vibrating against my back. "Wrecking ball, huh? That's cute, but I'm pretty sure you're the one who bulldozed through the place last night."

I rolled my eyes, half-smiling as I glanced back at him. "Me? You were the one ready to tear through a brick wall."

His lips brushed my shoulder as he grinned against my skin. "You didn't seem to mind."

I huffed, though the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me. "Yeah, well, if we keep this up, we're not going to have any walls—or furniture—left."

Marshall's bruised hand slid up my bare waist, his touch gentle despite the chaos of the night before. "I'll rebuild it all. But tell me you don't love it."

I sighed, the warmth of his breath against my neck sending a shiver down my spine. "It's unhealthy, you know that, right?"

He grinned, pulling me closer. "Yeah, but it feels too fucking good to stop."

He wasn't wrong. As insane as we were, as destructive as our fights could be, the aftermath—the way we came back together—was like nothing else. There was a raw, primal connection between us that couldn't be ignored, no matter how many times we tried to burn each other down. The way he touched me, the way we collided, it was explosive. The kind of sex that left you breathless, where everything else faded, and all that mattered was the intensity between us. It was phenomenal—the kind of wild passion people fantasized about but could never quite capture.

I groaned softly, both from the ache in my body and the lingering heat that still pulsed through my veins. "Okay, fine," I admitted, half-laughing. "It's pretty fucking phenomenal."

Marshall's hand tightened slightly on my waist, his voice low, playful. "That's what I thought."

I smirked, feeling his lips trail along my shoulder. "But don't think that means you're off the hook for breaking the couch."

He chuckled again, the sound rumbling against my back. "Oh, I know. But maybe we should stop pretending like we don't both enjoy breaking shit."

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes were still heavy with sleep, but there was that spark in them—the one that always followed the storm. The one that told me, no matter how much we fought, we'd always end up like this, tangled together, both of us feeding off the fire.

"I think we both know we're not stopping anytime soon," I said, shaking my head.

Marshall's grin widened, his lips brushing against my neck. "Nope. And next time, I'll order a sturdier couch—or at least one that can survive us for more than a month."

"If it survives," I teased, half-sighing. "At this rate, the furniture store's going to blacklist us."

He laughed, his breath hot against my skin. "Good thing we've got that double coffin on backorder."

I snorted, shaking my head. "At least they make those things sturdy. You'd better hope it's built for two."

His voice dropped lower, a growl under his words. "You think I'm letting you go without me?"

I met his gaze, my pulse quickening. "Not a chance."

He leaned in, capturing my mouth in a slow, heated kiss. His hands moved up my body, rough but familiar, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. It was like every touch reignited the fire between us, even in the quiet aftermath. And that was the thing with Marshall—we could tear each other apart, but we'd always find our way back. No matter how bad it got, we were always drawn to each other, like moths to a flame.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked on mine, and I could see the same hunger, the same intensity that never really went away. "You mad?" he asked, though there was a smirk tugging at his lips, like he already knew the answer.

I smiled, leaning my head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "No. I guess we'll deal with the mess later."

His hand slid down to rest on my waist, pulling me closer. "Later sounds good."

We lay there, wrapped in each other and the aftermath of the storm, surrounded by the broken pieces of what we'd destroyed the night before. But none of it mattered. The glass, the couch, the bruises—it was all just part of us. Part of how we worked.

"You know we're bad for each other, right?" I murmured, closing my eyes as I sank deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

Marshall's lips brushed my ear, his voice low and rough. "Yeah. But it feels so fucking good."

And that was the truth. As bad as we were for each other, as much as we broke and burned, it felt too good to let go. The passion, the fire—it was what kept us coming back, what made the chaos worth it. We might be a disaster waiting to happen, but we were our disaster. And that was enough.

For now, we had the calm after the storm. But I knew it wouldn't be long before we set the whole place on fire again. And honestly? I wouldn't want it any other way.