Rain
WARNING: CONTAINS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT
Title : Rain
Pairing: Eminem/Kim
Summary: Em and Kim are trying work things out, meanwhile- fourteen year old Lily Rayne has problems of her own.AUTHOR'S NOTES: I will NOT be address Kim's niece who is supposedly living with them. For the purposes of this, she doesn't exist in their home permanently. 1) I don't want to complicate things MORE. 2) Some sources say her name is Amy others say it's Aidan. 3) I'm the author and it's my right! It's fanfic! :-) I will *also* not really be addressing Nathan *too* much. He may crop up- but he's not living with them either. ALSO I am assuming the book "Cleanin' Out My Closet" is a load of crap since that's what the man himself said. So any information J.R. Watkins said about Kim or Em and their relationship does not apply here.
ONE MORE THING!!! This fiction is color coded for ease of reading since there are three main characters!! Anytime you see (------), it means time has passed. Here's the KEY:
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----------Prologue
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"Mommy?" I ask quietly, as if I'm expecting some glorious response. Like she'll jump up and say, YES! I'm here! "Mama?" I coo, softly touching her hand.
"Oh... Rayne, Baby-" she pauses to cough and cough, lifting the tissue to her mouth to spit the blood out. "Didn't hear you." She touches my face gently and smiles. "Look so prettY-" cough cough. More blood.
"Thanks, Mama," I say, tears clouding my eyes. God- what am I gonna *do*? What's gonna *happen* to me?
"Don't cry, Precious. Hate to see you cry."
"Mom, you're *dying*. What am I supposed to do?"
"You're gonna go on and have a *beautiful* life."
"What?" How can she even be *thinking* that at a time like this? I mean... "How *can* I? You won't *be* there?"
"Oh, Baby. I'll always be with you. In your heart-"
"We'll never part." Something we've said now too many times in her life. I can remember being five and sitting in this very hospital when we started saying that. She was so close that time- but... they got it in remission and things were better. Until I was seven. And again until I was ten.
But this time- the doctor's said it progressed too far and couldn't stop it. No one can save her.
She's going to die and leave me alone.
"What's gonna happen to me, Ma?" I can't afford- *we* cannot afford *not* to talk about the obvious. She's *going* to die soon and I don't know what will happen. We have no family to speak of. Daddy died in a car accident when I was a year old. I don't even remember him. And they were only children. "I don't- wanna go to an orphanage," I confess. God- I don't want to. But- what else could happen? I could run away, I guess.
"You'll have to, for a little bit, Honey. But- I promise, only for a few weeks, until they can carry out my will. And then-" cough cough cough. More blood. Coughing. Ohgod- too much blood.
"NURSE!" I scream and she comes rushing in and tells me to stand back but the blood doesn't stop coming and she's coughing and the nurse gives her something in the IV.
"Love you," my mom whispers right before she closes her eyes.
"Is she?"
"No. Just a sedative- to stop the coughing. We'll intobate next."
"What's that mean?"
"We're gonna put a tube down her throat to help her breathe. It'll keep her from coughing. Maybe you should go, Honey. While I work... go get a drink maybe."
Yeah right. I run to the bathroom and heave into the toilet.
Oh God. What's gonna happen to me?!
1
*********You have an idea what it's like to be reading about your wedding when you know that it's never gonna happen.
Of course, it isn't like it'll *never* happen, but it's highly unlikely. Marshall doesn't wanna get married again and I'm fine with that. I mean… can I really blame him?
Still… a girl can dream.
I throw the magazine across the room just as the door opens and he catches it.
"Why do you read this shit, Kim? Fuck- why do you *buy* it?"
"I didn't," I answer as he takes his shirt off and I gotta say, I wish he'd felt the need to get in shape a while ago. Don't get me wrong, I love him no matter what. Whether he's killing me off, lying, screaming or gone, I love Marshall. It's as true as the sky is blue.
I loved him the first second I saw him and I'll continue to love him until the day I die. Married or not.
"Found it at the salon and brought it home."
"Why do you wanna *read* It's all shit and lies."
++++++++
Honestly, I can't figure out why she insists on reading this shit.
I glance at the cover before I toss it on her dresser. *Her* dresser. I actually missed it- her dresser I mean, while it was gone. I missed it with all her girl-y shit. Perfume, candles, necklaces she likes to wear, lotion she puts on her hands religiously every morning, nail files and polish and other shizzie I have no idea what it's use is. Women are funny things.
For as much as she always acted like a tough girl, she certainly loves her girlie things.
It's another article about our supposed secret wedding. She's obsessed with it. I don't know why- it's just rumors and shit and she says she don't wanna get married again anyway- so it's better off this way.
We're goin' on six months of being back together and I don't wanna fuck it up.
I kick my sneaks across the room and she rolls her eyes; she hates when I do that. I don't know why- or if I did, I don't remember now. Something that started the day after I met her.
I watch her watching me as I get undressed. I'm fuckin' *exhausted*. Hailie decided to wake me up at seven am, thank you very much, Baby. I love you too.
I strip down to my boxers and crawl into bed next to her. She's still sitting up, reading another magazine and I curl up next to her. My arms wrap around her waist and I put my head in her lap. I remember we were in this exact same position the first time Hailie kicked. She kicked me in the face too.
She places her hand on my head and gently runs her fingers through my hair and over my forehead.
I sigh.
My Kim.
I take a peak up at the cover of the mag she's got now. "Anything good?" I ask. 'Least it's not the Enquirer this time.
"Same, same. 8 Mile, controversy, Hailie, Kim, mother… blah blah blah," she says before tossing it aside. "Couple nice pics though."
*********
He slides his hand down to my thigh and slowly under my nightgown. That's Marshall's way of saying if I want to, he's not too tired, but he's also happy just closing his eyes.
I slide my hand down the back of his neck to between his shoulder blades and he moans before slipping his hand up further between my thighs. And for a second I think he might actually-
"You want to?" He asks.
"Marsh," I whine.
"What?" He asks, looking up at me from my lap.
"Why d'you feel the need to ask for permission to touch me?" I'm- I just don't want him thinking he has to *ask* for sex. He didn't always-
"Huh?" He sits up.
"You didn't *used* to ask."
"I wasn't! I don't need permission to-"
"Then how come you never just walk in and kiss me?"
"I DO! All the time-"
"No you don't," I insist. "You come in and kiss me and then stop. How come you don't just come in and maul me?"
"What the hell do you *want*?" He snaps. He doesn't shout, but he's sure as hell not *calm*.
Welcome to my life.
++++++++
God- she infuriates me!
"Marsh, I just don't-"
"Don't 'Marsh' me!" I say.
It's the most patronizing thing in the word when she does that.
"Fine. *Em*, I just-"
"You tell me I don't appreciate you enough- now what? I don't treat you like a whore? WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
"Don't fuckin' SCREAM at me!" She yells.
Yup. Welcome to the Marshall and Kim show. Version 70.3. Never new and improved. Just different.
She throws the covers back when Whitney starts crying through the baby monitor.
I sigh. "Want me to?"
"No. Forget it, *I'll* go."
I watch as she walks out, clearly upset. Fuck. She's been… annoyed lately. Something's on her mind.
And what the hell is wrong with askin' her if she feels like fuckin'? Sometimes she doesn't.
I thought I was being *considerate*.
I mean- what the fuck?
She wants to know why I don't "maul" her?
When the fuck did I ever *maul* her?
I sigh. I'm sick of this. She's been edgy all week.
I walk down the hall to Whitney's room and find her standing at the changing table with Whitney, putting a new diaper under her tush.
She's standing in front of the window and the full moon streams in and lands on her. I can see her face in the shadows and the light dances on her face and she works.
I drink in her form. She just put some reddish highlights in her hair and it looks really good on her. She's got this light blue satin nightgown on that falls midthigh and I really don't see any panty lines, if she's got 'em on at all and I should *not* find her this fuckin' gorgeous while she's changin' a diaper. But I do.
I shift a bit and adjust my hard on. Fuck.
Oh. DUH.
I'm such a fuckin' moron sometimes, ya know?
I walk up behind her and I know she knows I'm here. I slide my arms around her and rest my hands on her abdomen and I was *right*. No undies.
I bury my face in her hair and I *love* her hair. I really do. I love it when it's really long.
There really is nothing sexier than watching your wife riding you with her long hair bouncing around or falling on her shoulders and covering her tits. And she's got great boobs. I mean- Kim in general is a really gorgeous woman. Most people don't see it, I don't think. Not from the few pictures that are around on the net and whatnot. But she really is a beautiful woman. She's *my* kind a' woman.
And she can be *so* sexy when she wants to be. And she can be soo fun and laid back too. That, above all else, I think is one thing that works with us. We both have so much like that- we like to play and be serious and we like to have fun and we're just- all over the place. But- we can both get *really* mad or jealous and we've got tempers like you wouldn't believe. That's why I *really* am trying to keep the peace- because in the past six months, we haven't *had* a huge fight and I *know* one's gotta be comin' and I'm afraid.
We're still so- fragile. I mean… six months does *not* undo fifteen *years* of history. A history that says we fuck, we love, we fight, we split, we fuck, we love, we fight, we split. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
We did the fucking part- albeit a bit… drunkenly. But- I don't think either one of us really *knew* how much we missed the other until we woke up the morning after Hai's birthday party. Together. And shit- it was nice to wake to her scent again- to wake and have her taste still in my mouth and her body pressed against mine. I'd forgotten how great it was to wake up to the only woman I've ever truly loved.
And I don't want this to end. So, I kiss her softly and whisper, "I'm sorry. Wasn't thinkin'. I'm *sorry*," I repeat. I mean- fuck, I'm stupid sometimes. Of *course* she wanted it- look at her!
"Dada!" Whitney says, seeing me.
"Hey, Baby," I smile at her.
She calls me Daddy. I'm the only male presence she has in her life and Hailie obviously calls me daddy, so that's what Whitney knows.
That's another thing we don't really talk about though. I mean- Eric can't get anywhere *near* her now and the guy is wanted for grand theft auto. So he can't *exactly* come right up to her in the mall or something and he sure as hell can't show up to court.
"Okay, Miss Thang, ya gotta go back to sleep, okay?" She coos as she picks Whit up.
*********
Ya know, sometimes, he does things that infuriate me *soo* much and then other times, he's sooo perfect, it makes me wanna cry.
His hand remains planted firmly on the small of my back as I place Whitney back in her crib. Then, I turn the small music crib thing on. It's a fish bowl that lights up softly and plays Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She *loves* it. It was a present from her big sister, too.
"It's okay, Baby. Go to sleep," I coo and his hand stays right on my back. That's one thing I've enjoyed the past six months. He's been a lot more touchy than he was.
I mean- in the beginning he used to touch me all the time. He'd hold my hand in school or rest his hand on my thigh when we watched TV, but over time, he stopped doing that. We got- I don't know… comfortable with each other and he stopped touching me. It got to the point when the only time he would touch me at all was when he wanted sex.
Maybe that's why I was kissing John. I mean- I have needs. I needed to be desired by my husband. I need him to see me as a flesh and blood woman and he stopped doing that somewhere between high school and diapers and stardom.
Whitney slowly closes her eyes and we quietly sneak out of the room and he holds my hand as we walk back to our room.
Ya know- there were times when I thought if he ever did that again, I would cry. There were nights when we were apart that I would cry because he couldn't touch me.
I mean- we were lovers before we were ever parents or before we were ever married. Somewhere along the way, we lost that.
And god- were we lovers.
I used to crave him, ache for him. He was the first guy I'd even been with and I know, even if we split a thousand more times, he'll be the last man I ever have inside me too.
It's just that way with us.
++++++++
I don't know what she's thinking when we get back to our room, but I know in my heart, she's right.
It's like we've got all this shit playin' between us. The whole fame shit, the work thing, our own history, Hailie, Whitney and the parenting shit- we've also got the *us* shit that we probably haven't dealt with enough. It's like… we've got the parenting thing worked out now and I took time off to stay here, so that's not there right now. But- we haven't gotten back to *us*.
And I desperately want that.
And she's right. When *did* I stop lookin' at her like a seventeen year old? I mean- just *look* at her. She's beautiful and here we are, in our sexual prime and… I guess I *do* ask for permission in a way.
And now that I think about it, I *did* used to maul her- when I'd come home and I knew my mom was out- I'd jump on her. I mean- after we'd already done it and when were just having sex- not before. Whatever. I know what I mean.
So… there's only one thing to do, I guess, because I *do* still find her as attractive as I always did.
As soon as I close the door behind us, my hands pull her back against me. I grab her hips and pull her back toward me. "Shit, I could be with a million women and *no* one would turn me on as much as you do, Kim," I confess before spinning her around in my arms and attacking her lips. I love her lips- they're just- they swallow me when I kiss her, even more when she's got my dick between 'em.
"Marshall," she groans between a kiss. Oh yeah, Baby, I'm back for a bit. "What are you-"
"I'm mauling you," I answer before kissing down her neck and my hands? Well- they're busy too. I slide them from the back of her thighs up to her back, taking the satin fabric up as I do.
And her hands are busy too. She's got 'em inside my boxers now and is squeezing my ass, as we kiss. God, fifteen years later and hers is the mouth I love to kiss the most. She's so familiar against me and god, I missed that.
We walk toward the bed as I steadily try and get her to lift her arms so I can take this off her.
"Do you like it?" She asks with that… tone she always gets- that lusty, sexy voice that can get me hard in two minutes. I call it her sexy voice.
"Love it," I say, "Now get it off before I rip it off."
*********
I push him down onto the bed and he sits and watches me as I slowly pull it up my body. God, I want him.
I know Marshall gets jealous, but I do too. When we weren't together and I heard of him being with other girls, I went out of my mind. He's *mine* and I'll throw down with anyone who says differently.
His eyes devour my body as I toss the nightgown aside and he places his hands on my hips and pulls me toward him. He places a kiss on my stomach and licks up my skin to the valley of my breasts.
""Marsh," I whimper when one of his hands slips between my thighs. "God, I love you," I tell him.
"Love you too," he says and the next thing I know, he's tossed me onto the bed and is on top of me and kisses me passionately.
Ohgod- his tongue is so insistent in my mouth and I run my hands down his back to push his boxers down.
"C'mon, touch me," I plead.
"I *am*," he says while cupping one of my tits before kissing my nipple. I love his tongue on me like this as he laves my skin.
"Bastard," I accuse.
++++++++
Fine, fine, fine. I hook my hand under her knee and push her leg up the bed so she's spread apart and I kiss her and swallow her moans as I thrust two fingers inside her. Shit. She's always *so* response to my touch. Even now- fifteen years later.
I take my time, for now, to turn my fingers inside her so I can feel all her muscles, squeezing and reacting to my presence. I mean- once my cock gets in here, I don't really feel much except for wet heat and her all around me. I used to wish I could live inside her. I guess I still do. Even when we're screaming at each other, she's *hot*.
I guess that's part of the reason we always come back to each other.
She arches her back up off the bed and I attack her mouth as she does. I slip my tongue inside her mouth as my fingers move in and out of her. This is the way I touched her first. It was five months after we starting going out and I was sixteen and she was just fourteen. We were makin' out and things were gettin' really hot and heavy and the next thing we knew, I had her jeans down and had slid my fingers inside her. Shit- the look on her face that day was… *priceless*. I still remember that look in her eyes- wild and crazy scared and incredibly turned on.
"C'mon," she says, trying to pull my arm from between her thighs.
"You're a greedy bitch tonight," I mutter and she pinches one of my nipples at that. She don't like bein' called 'bitch' when we're in bed. "Sorry."
"Just be in me, Baby," she whimpers and I really can't argue with that, can I? When your wife wants you inside her- you go. I mean… not that she's my wife or anything- but… seems dumb to call her my girlfriend. She's just- she's Kim.
*********
FINALLY! He pushes inside and I just… fuck. I wrap my legs around his hips as he thrusts inside me over and over. Shit. I love him. I know that. That's all that matters. We're happier together than we are apart. NO matter what.
"Marsh, please, Baby, soon." He kisses me again and I feel his fingers seeking my clit. Shit- we never grabbed a condom but now it's too late because he's pinching my clit and I'm coming and he is too and it's… nice.
Shit. He rolls off me and lies beside me.
"Kim?" He asks after a few minutes.
"What?"
"How come this isn't working?"
"What's not?" I ask, turning on my side to look at him. "Seemed to be working just fine."
"Not *that*. I mean… us."
Oh. Us. Yeah. Us.
"Don't get me wrong- I… love having you back here, Kim. But- it's just-"
"Not the same?"
"Yeah."
Are we FINALLY gonna talk? *Can* we? Without yelling?
I sit up and look at him. "I've been- thinking a lot, lately. About us, I mean. I think- maybe… we rushed things."
"Whadoya mean?" He asks.
"Well- I mean, we got drunk and had sex and started things the way they *always* start." And that's true- we have this pattern. Fuck, love, fight, leave. And we just keep doing that. "And as nice as it was- to wake up with you again… maybe I *shouldn't*'ve moved back in so quickly." It was practically overnight. The next week, I was here and maybe that was mistake number one. (Or- in the grand scheme of things, mistake number one thousand seven hundred and seventy-eight.)
"You don't wanna live here anymore?" He asks, hurt. "Because if-"
I shut him up with a soft, lingering kiss. "Marsh, I love you too much. Let's at least say, if we've learned anything from our history- it's that we're happier together than we are apart. I was *miserable* withouchu."
"How come we never talked about this shit?"
"Because nowhere in our pattern is there 'talk'." I shrug. "Maybe there *should* be."
"Kim," he says, sitting up and taking my hands in his. "I *want* this to work this time. I don't wanna go through that shit again. You're right- we're better together than we are apart. Not just for Hailie, but because I really fuckin' love you- no matter what- I love you. I'm *committed* to makin' this work."
"Me too," I sigh in relief. At least we agree on that and he pulls me into his arms and we hug. I mean… we don't *hug* usually. So… maybe we're on the right track?
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~~~~~~~~"Mama?" I ask, sitting down. God- why do I even have to go to school? I mean- my mom's *dying*- so what does it matter?
I gently touch her hand. I'm not sure if she's awake or not and I *hate* seeing her with that tube in her throat, but they say she can't breathe without it anymore. There's too much blood that wants to come up her throat and I wish… god- I wish sometimes, that she would just die.
How horrible is that? To wish your own mother dead?! But… she's- in so much pain. I think… although they assure me they're giving her pain medication.
"Mama? You awake?" I ask again, quietly.
She nods her head slowly and opens her eyes and smiles around the tube.
She's soo… fragile. Weak. Pale. I don't think it'll be long now.
She points toward the rolly hospital table and- there's a card. For *me*.
"Mama, you didn't *have* to-" but she points again and I pull the card out of the envelope. "'Happy Birthday, Dearest Daughter'," I read the cover out loud. "You didn't have to, Mama," I say, but she points again.
I open it up and there's a few written pages inside and I begin to read them. "'My lovely Rayne, I wish your birthday could be happier and that I could promise you that I'll always be here, but we both know I can't be. I wanted to tell you this, but the doctors won't take the tube out. So- you'll be placed with a foster family for a few weeks during which time… my will will be taken care of. But, my love, there's something I never told you. I should have. You're adopted.' WHAT?" I look up at her and she's crying, but she just points back to the letter.
"'I wanted to tell you for so long- every day- but… your father and I couldn't conceive children. And the day you were brought to us was the happiest day in the world. You are my daughter and if I could have spared you the pain of this, I would have. I wish I didn't get sick. I wish I could be with you forever. But I'll always be with you, in your heart, we'll never part.
"I've asked my lawyer to contact your parents. Your *real* parents. I hope that perhaps you could return to them- to some sort of family, if you want. Only if you want. After I- after I'm gone- you'll have to make a decision. And I'm sorry, to give this to you *now*, but- it's never a good time. I'm sorry to have hurt you and deceived you, but I love you very much. I kept hoping I would never have to tell you. But- please know that I love you and I wish you the happiest of birthdays to come, even though it might not seem like it.
"It might rain for several days and it might seem too dreary to go on, but where the rain falls, a flower grows and that's how you were named, my precious Lily Rayne. I love you with every fiber of my being. Love, Mom.'"
I fold the letter back up and just throw myself into her arms. God- why *now*? What did I do to deserve this? "Mommy, I love you," I say. "I forgive you."
I don't want her to die thinking I hate her. Because I don't. God… maybe that's why she always said I was her gift from Heaven. That it rained happiness on them one day.
"Do you *know* who they are? My parents?" I ask, but of course, she can't *answer*.
Instead, she pushes the nurse call button and when the nurse comes in, she points to the tube. "Ma'am, you must-" but my mom points again and shakes her head no and mouths the word 'out'. "Ma'am, you can't survive long without it." But she points at it again.
"Mommy-" I say. "Please, Mom, don't."
But she points again.
"I'll go get the doctor."
And I sit there and watch as my mother signs a piece of paper saying she knows what she's doing and I watch as they instruct her to cough as it comes out and she keeps coughing a bit.
"Baby, c'mere," she says, sitting up and she pulls me into her lap weakly, coughing a bit more. "I know this is it- but, I needed to tell you some things. I love you so much. I have their names. I've never opened the envelope that they gave to me. I met them. Couple young kids." Cough. Cough. Cough. She spits some blood into a cup. "I gave it to the lawyer. If you want- he can contact them. If not-" cough cough cough. "I know the Davidson's said they would consider taking you in-" cough cough cough. "But- search inside yourself and decide what's right for-" cough cough cough cough cough. More blood and gasps for air.
"Ma'am- please-" the nurse says.
"*NO*," she gasps. "I want to talk to my daughter." She insists. God- my mother is dying right in front of me. For me. On my birthday. My fourteenth birthday. Welcome to adulthood, Rayne.
"Honey- listen to me, you didn't cause this. I made the choice- don't blame yourself. I love you. I always have and I always will. You'll be a wonderful woman when you're older."
Cough cough cough. And the coughs don't stop. "Love" cough "you" cough "much" cough. And she starts to shake and the doctor pulls me off her and I sit and watch as she refuses the tube.
"I love you, Mommy. I'm not mad," I tell her over and over. "I love you, Mommy. Don't be afraid. I'll be okay."
And then, the beep beep of the monitor turns into one long beep.
"Time of death, five fifteen pm."
And then there's just emptiness inside.
Author: crazyevildru@yahoo.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.