😈🥬

The roar of the crowd was almost deafening, even from backstage. Colson pulled his shirt up, using it to wipe the sweat from his face before tossing it aside completely. Fuck, that was a good show. Took a lot of energy out of him though. He contemplated lying down on the couch as he kicked his dressing room door open with the scuffed toe of his docs. Not a bad idea. He could catch up with the rest of the guys later, maybe go for drinks or something. His muscles trembled from the adrenaline of being on stage. Fuck it, he thought, practically dive bombing the shitty fabric sofa that was pressed against the wall. He deserved some rest after his performance. Barely noticing as his eyelids fluttered shut, he drifted into a dreamless slumber.

"DUDE! you gotta see this, there's a- oh shit!" Rook's voice dropped to a whisper halfway through his sentence as he noticed the sleeping form of his friend on the couch.

"Aww, sleepy Colson," he muttered to himself, staring for a moment before a brilliant idea popped into his head. Silently, he tiptoed to the table in the corner, grabbing a bundle of thin rope and a roll of pink duct tape. He made quick work of tying Colson's wrists together and slapping a piece of tape over his mouth. Rook could barely contain his laughter as he stood back and admired his work.

"Sweet dreams homie," he grinned, heading out the door and closing it quietly. Hopefully his friend wouldn't be too pissed when he finally woke up. After all, he'd pranked Rook more times than he could count on both hands. 

Marshall was getting seriously fed up with the amount of people who wanted him to squash the beef with MGK. Paul had called him to discuss it on Monday, and by Thursday night he'd been sent an long worded email from Diddy requesting they talk it out. He had to put his foot down, right? Eminem wasn't known for kissing and making up with the people who'd fucked with him. Actually, it was quite the opposite. Marshall didn't give a fuck about the stupid blond twink or his dumb new pop punk album. Not that he'd listened to it (on more than one occasion.) That was beside the point! He wasn't about to take pity on MGK just because his fans could get a little crazy on twitter sometimes. If it was affecting the younger rapper so badly, he should be the one grovelling at Marshall's feet. When Friday came around, he noticed even Royce seemed to be up his ass about it. 

"Maybe it'd be a good thing," he'd said. "You can move onto other shit without everyone bein' up in arms."

Yeah, that was the last straw. 

Now it was Sunday, and Marshall couldn't believe he was actually about to go through with this. He'd waited for the venue to clear out, but decided to pull his hood up as he stepped out of his car, just to be safe. Scrubbing a palm over his face with a sigh, he made his way up the steps to the back entrance of the stadium. The sound of his footsteps on concrete reminded him of his impending doom. What the hell had he gotten himself into? What if Kelly wasn't all talk and actually wanted to kick his ass? or even worse, what if he laughed in his face? Marshall grumbled something about "fuckin' Paul," as he trudged down the hall, stopping to pound a fist on the door of the young rapper's dressing room. No answer.

Shit, maybe he'd been too late. He jiggled the knob, surprised when the door swung open with a click. It wasn't until he'd closed the door behind him that he noticed the state of the young rapper in front of him.

Now that he was sitting upright, Marshall was able to see the disgruntled look on Kelly's face, which only seemed to darken when his eyes fell on the older man. He was squirming, thrashing about and throwing a little hissy fit, clearly trying to undo the bright pink ropes that bound his thin wrists together. Marshall couldn't help the small smirk that spread across his face when he noticed the duct tape over Kelly's lips.

"Pink really is your colour, huh?" he teased, mind focused on the situation at hand. The only response he received was a deadpan glare from the blond.

"How'd you get yourself into this situation? wait- don't answer that," he grinned at the irony. "let me guess...some crazy fangirl broke in here to get the big man all to herself?" Kelly didn't reply. He exhaled loudly through his nose, gazing up at Marshall with a look that seemed to beg help.

"Y'know, Kelly, I think I like you better like this. You can't run your fuckin' mouth," Marshall spoke, stepping closer to the man before him. "All tied up for me like a goddamn present," he purred. The blush that spread across Kelly's face didn't go unnoticed. Huh. Interesting.

"Is that how it is then? You got a little crush on me or somethin'? tryna pull at my pigtails? You're a big boy, use your words," Marshall gloated. "Oh wait. You can't."

Colson rolled his eyes at the laughter that followed. If this asshole wasn't gonna help him, he was doomed to sit here and listen to Eminem taunt him for God knows how many hours.

"Aw, don't be like that. Here-" Marshall yanked the tape from Colson's mouth, causing him to yelp in pain.

"OW! fucker..." Colson mumbled, raising his wrists to rub at his mouth. "The hell are you doing here anyways? Fuck it, actually. I don't care just- help me get out of this," he gestured to the ropes.

"Nah."

"Excuse me?"

"I said nah," Marshall repeated. This was too good an opportunity to pass up, he decided, gazing down at the squirmy blond in front of him. "You didn't answer my question."

"What fuckin' question?" Colson spat. 

"Don't play dumb. I wanna know if you started all this just to get my attention. You got a crush on me, Kells?"

The younger rapper looked away, avoiding his eyes. "It's Colson," he muttered stubbornly.

"Well, Colson, you still didn't answer my question," Marshall sing-songed. 

God, he was annoying. Colson didn't know what he ever saw in-

"Wow, you're taking a really long time."

"Fuck you."

"If you insist," Marshall grinned, leaning in to gently press his lips to Colson's. Surprisingly, the blond wasted no time in returning the kiss, parting his lips to let the dark haired rapper's tongue slip inside. This had to be a dream. He just hadn't woke up yet, right? There was no way this was happening, no way that-

Marshall pulled back, eliciting a dissapointed groan from Colson. 

"Jesus, I can fuckin' hear you thinking," he muttered under his breath, moving back in to reconnect their lips. "Relax," he whispered into the kiss, earning a soft whimper that made Colson's cheeks flush with embarrasment. The older man pressed his bound wrists above his head, until they were rested against the arm of the sofa.

"Keep 'em there."

Colson wasn't about to object when Marshall was kissing him like that. He could feel himself hardening in his boxers as he was pressed into the couch by the other man's weight. He felt marshall's hands slip beneath his waistband, palming at his perky ass. The blonde squirmed out of Marshall's grip, panting as new air filled his lungs. 

"Nah, no way- I don't ride bitch," Colson stated defensively, glaring at the soft laugh that escaped the other man.

"You ain't really in the position to be making demands right now sweetheart," Marshall grinned at him. "Don't wanna bottom? That's fine. I'll see you around, Kelly," he spoke nonchalantly, standing to leave and nearly making it to the door before he heard Colson cry out.

"Wait!"

There was a moment of silence

"Come back, you cant- can't leave me here like this," the blonde said.

"You gonna let me have that slutty hole of yours?" Marshall turned to lock eyes with him.There was no mistaking the whine that escaped Colson's throat. So it was like that, huh?

"S-sure just...take it easy man," he muttered shyly, a soft shade of pink colouring his cheeks.

Marshall smirked, slowly making his way back to the sofa to rake his fingers through the blonde's fluffy bangs. 

"Good choice," he paused, brows scrunching up as he glanced around the small dressing room. "Lube?" 

"In my jacket," Colson nodded at the leather draped across the back of a chair. "Left pocket. You're gonna have to get it," he trailed off, embarrassed.

"You'd think I would've picked that up right Kelly? I mean-" Marshall's sentence cut off at the chuckle he let out, pulling his hand from the pocket, fingers wrapped around a little pink bottle. "Strawberry? Well aren't you just the cutest, princess."

"Shut the fuck up," Colson hissed through gritted teeth, glaring in the shorter man's direction as he made his way back to the couch.