Disclaimer: The following story is a work of erotic gay fiction. By reading this material you affirm that you are acting within the limits of your local laws and ordnances. No inference is made as to the sexual preference of any actual person appearing in this story, nor should the reader make any such inferences. This story is not meant to imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned.
RAP MASH UPS: HOLLYHOOD
Copyright 2005
Nas ran a hand over his face in frustration. "What the fuck does he want?"
He heard mutters of agreement around him from some of the extras on the movie set, but it did little to ease his irritation. They had almost wrapped the film's shoot except for this last scene which would appear early in the actual movie. For some reason, the director had not been satisfied with any variation on the scene they had tried, so they had been forced to try it again and again.
"Nigga, quit fumbling over yo lines and maybe we can get the fuck up out of here!" Nas shouted over to his costar.
DMX grunted with a guttural growl and jokingly flipped Nas off.
Nas laughed and took a seat while the production crew set up for another attempt. DMX wandered over to him and leaned against the near wall. "Yo dogg, this shit is crazy."
"Hollywood," Nas grinned.
"Fuck that," DMX grumbled, the extra hours spent in the gym showing obvious results on his dark frame. He had wanted to be ripped for the movie and he had achieved it. He looked all the part of someone who could deal serious damage.
Nas felt his eyes linger on his frame, taking in the defined curves of the rapper's arms.
"I'm beat as hell," Nas sighed, stretching back into his chair with a yawn. "We done this good ten takes ago."
Movement from the production grew increased as the setup for the shot was nearing completion. "Yo dogg, you want to have some fun with this shit?"
Nas cocked an eye at his costar. "What you mean?"
DMX flashed teeth like a predator, "Trust me. Just roll with this shit."
"Aiight," Nas chuckled lightly, the fatigue in his demeanor taking the excitement of another one of DMX's pranks out of him.
The actors were called to take their places once again to try the shot.
"Ey, we gonna switch this one up and get with it this time," DMX called to the director.
His face hidden behind numerous monitors, only the voice of the director could be heard, "Just remember we've already shot all of these characters in later scenes so they've got to make it out of this scene alive."
"No doubt," DMX barked, the wicked playfulness growing in his eyes.
"Fuck," Nas sighed to himself, unsure what the rapper had in mind.
But once again he found himself looking at the man with something other than mutual respect. The two rappers had been no strangers to each other over the years. The industry wasn't that big. But they had rarely spent as much time together as they had now, thanks to the movie venture. Over the long months during the shoot, they had spent the majority of their time together either on the set or off like two life-long friends.
It had been easy. They had taken to each other quickly. Kicking back at each other's place catching a fight on TV, or seeing who could pick up the most hoes in one night. It had been just like hanging out with one of his boys from back in the day before all the fame. Back when life was simple and hard. Back when you were too worried about your next meal to be thinking of the crazy shit his mind now turned to...
Nas licked his lips unconsciously as he watched the rapper.
It was crazy shit, he decided. Being young and rich afforded you all kinds of chances to try things you never thought you'd try. Most of it was freely offered to you, either in hopes of getting close to your fame or as a desperate attempt to attain some. Drugs, girls, whatever you wanted, it was there.
Waiting.
He smoothed out his pant leg and brushed against the edge of his dick which was harder than it should be.
Over the years would-be-rappers had tried everything to bend his ear. Anything to get him to listen to their tapes hoping that they could be the next big thing. The next rapper to take his place. Some would do anything for the chance, especially the ones who knew their talent would take them only so far.
Groupies were not all women.
"And action," a voice called, breaking Nas out of his thoughts.
The scene should have been an easy one, Nas thought. DMX and his character were counting money in their basement along with their crew when the loyalty of one of their own is questioned. He had seen it many times in real life.
"What the fuck are you doin?!" DMX shouted at one of the other actors who had pushed by him.
Nas hoped this would be the last take, and tried to remember his mark. His part was easy. Just react to the situation unfolding.
"Fuck you, nigga", the angry actor cursed, making his way across the studio.
DMX whipped out the fake gun tucked in his jeans and cocked it with venom. He fired a single blank at the target, aiming to miss.
"Alright!" the actor screamed, portraying his character dutifully. "Alright!"
DMX glanced at Nas for an unscripted moment and Nas knew the improvisation was about to begin.
"Strip, nigga!" DMX barked, his eyes now locked on the frightened actor.
For a moment Nas could see the confusion in the actor's eyes. What had he said?
But DMX was in control of the prop gun and fired off another round. "Strip, nigga!"
Fake or not, the gun was deafening. It's presence alone was enough to make anyone uneasy, not to mention if it was pointed directly at you. The momentary hesitation in the actor was quickly replaced with haste as he became wholly part of the scene.
Nas could see the actor visibly shaking, but whether this was acting or real fear, he couldn't be sure. He found himself grinning at the thought that even his own costars never knew what to expect from DMX.
The actor began quickly unbuttoning his shirt.
"Strip!" DMX shouted again like a mantra, firing the prop gun at the actor's feet.
Nas got back into character and egged DMX on. "Look at that nigga."
The actor pealed off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, then dropped both his pants and underwear down to his ankles in a single movement. Before the whole situation of what had happened could sink in, the actor was sitting naked on a couch in front of cast and crew.
DMX, still in character, brandished the prop gun to show his superiority. He was the leader. He had just shown his authority by demoralizing someone who had disrespected him.
Damn, Nas thought to himself. This shit may really work.
"Fuck you, B," the shaken actor muttered, his face wet with tears. "You'll get yours."
"And cut!" a voice from behind the scenes called. "That looked beautiful, guys. Let's do that same thing one more time..."
Nas rolled his eyes.
"Yeah," DMX grinned, playfully pushing Nas back. "See that, nigga."
"You crazy as hell, nigga," Nas laughed, his mind aware of the other cast and crew around him congratulating each other on the final scene while his eyes could not leave his costar.
DMX was unreadable, the same predatory gleam in his eyes vibrant but unyielding. What was he thinking behind that steel?
An hour later, the director had tweaked DMX's ideal into a workable scene and they were wrapped for the very last time on the shoot. It was definitely less work than rapping, Nas decided, but the monotony of it all was something he couldn't deal with on a regular basis. At least when he was performing it was always in a different city, a different crowd, a different story. But the movie biz was crazy. Still, it was easy money and if nothing else, an excuse to know one of his fellow artists better...
"You look like shit, nigga," DMX said as the set began to clear of actor and crew alike. "You need to come over to my crib and blaze a few trees to celebrate."
"Aiight, that's what I'm talking about. Let me hit the shower and I'll meet you at your place in like an hour-thirty."
"That's straight, son. I'll be there."
As Nas made it back to the house he was renting while the movie was being shot, he thought back on his own wild days and figured DMX's own stories were no doubt similar. There was something in the way the rapper had looked at him lately, something that was just below the surface. Then again, maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see.
"Fuck," he thought. "I ain't gay. Why am I sweatin this nigga?"
There had been times when he had let a nigga suck his dick. But that had been because there were no females around or he just didn't feel like being bothered with all the shit females tried to bring his way. He didn't want to have to deal with the groupies trying to get pregnant so they could be set financially for life. Sometimes it was just more convenient to bust a nut off in some nigga's throat and be done with it.
But he never fantasized about another dude. At least, not until recently.
"I'm buggin," he thought, climbing under the powerful jets of his shower. "A nigga been too long without some good pussy, that's all."
Though no matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, images of DMX returned. He remembered how it felt to be near his friend, to feel the closeness. The smell of his body or the feel of his arm as it brushed against him.
There was a longing there that he couldn't bring himself to admit. It was one thing to let another dude suck your dick when you needed a release. It was another to go searching for a dude when you had your pick of females. Before it was always a matter of circumstance. This time it would be by choice.
That made all the difference.
The warm water running down his face did wonders to wash away the fatigue of the day, but it did little the cleans his troubled mind. Steam curled around him and lay heavy in the air and he took a moment to savor its feeling before turning the water off and opening the shower door.
The bathroom was large enough to be a day spa with ample room for massive, dark wood furniture and a sitting area complete with a small sofa. It was on this sofa that DMX sat, his body angled back against one of the arm rests and one leg bent slightly at the knee.
He was like a mirage with the thick steam giving the room a dream-like appearance, and for a moment Nas couldn't decide if the rapper wasn't more than just some hallucination from a too-hot shower.
"Your door was unlocked, dogg," DMX said, his voice so cool and even against the thunder in Nas' ears.
Of course Nas knew that was a lie. He never left his door unlocked.
DMX's features began to slowly materialize as the steam in the room dissipated. That same steely gleam was in his eyes which seemed, for a moment, to dip down Nas' naked body.
Trying to appear unfazed, Nas retrieved a towel and wrapped it around his waste to hide what was becoming a growing problem. "It's cool. I said I'd meet you at your crib."
"I know," the dark man smiled, his eyes slightly red as though he had already started smoking without Nas. "I was in your hood."
Nas felt the man's eyes soaking him in. It was unmistakable now. The rapper's eyes were drinking every part of his body with slow deliberation. His own blood felt hot, like the steam once in the room had now found it's way into his veins.
"Your shit's fillin out nicely, son," DMX said, his speech slow and softer than usual. His eyes were fixated on Nas' chest. "Shit looks tight."
"Thanks," he managed to reply, although the words seem to have gotten lost in his throat. "Tryin to get cut like you."
DMX stood, his movement fluid, and walked over to his friend. He stood mere inches away from him now, so close Nas could even smell the hint of weed still on his breath. DMX seem fixated on Nas' lips as he spoke. "That right?"
Nas stood uneasy. The growing weight between his legs strained uncomfortably against his towel as he struggled to appear unaffected. His arms seemed heavy and impossible to move and no version of his posture felt natural.
"Why you so quiet, nigga," DMX said, now mostly a whisper. His head was cocked slightly to one side but his eyes still lingered on Nas' lips. He reached out and slid a finger under the fold of towel at the waist.
Nas froze, his heart now thundering in his chest as he felt his body will DMX's hand to explore further. But he could say nothing.
DMX smiled and in a single motion, pulled the towel off, letting it pool on the floor below. Nas held his breath as the air touched his dick and the rapper before him held both hands onto his hips.
Nas was weak as if the anticipation of touch had demanded all the strength he had had. A heavy breath escaped him as the hands lightly slid up his sides and around his back. DMX pulled the rapper into him, firmly. Nas felt his dick bend against his friend as their lips met. He closed his eyes as the full lips surrounded his, sucking them first until at last their tongues touched.
"Damn nigga," DMX grinned, his own erection now rubbing against Nas.
Nas slipped his hands under DMX's white wife beater and pulled the shirt off, revealing the toned body underneath. A light patch of hair covered the man's defined pecs and he took a moment to explore each nipple with his fingers.
In the next moment, the jeans and boxers that had once held DMX's throbbing erection at bay had been removed, leaving the two rappers naked. DMX grabbed a handful of ass as he pull Nas into him for another kiss, this time rough and aggressive. Nas surrendered.
He felt his friends hands roughly prying his ass cheeks apart, searching for their prize. For a moment, Nas wanted to back away. It was all happening too fast, but DMX strengthened his grip and silenced Nas by plunging his tongue deeper into his mouth.
Nas closed his eyes and released his control.
DMX's finger was now circling his asshole already damp with sweat and anticipation. Even in his relaxed state, though, he winced as the first finger violated his body and plunged into his hot hole.
Nas groaned, giving DMX free reign to lick his neck while he continued loosening up his prize.
"I'ma fuck tha hell out of you," DMX whispered, his voice hot against Nas' neck.
The muscular rapper turned Nas around and gripped the back of his neck. He bent the rapper over the arm of the sofa, never once lessening his grip. He was in control and he wanted there to be no questioning it.
Nas submitted, feeling the cool air against his exposed asshole now which was still wet with perspiration and by the prodding of DMX's fingers. Thoughts suddenly jumbled in Nas' mind. What would this make him? If he let DMX fuck him, he felt everybody that saw him would know his secret shame.
They would know.
He struggled for a minute to raise up but DMX put his hand on his back to steady him. "Ease up, nigga. I'll go slow."
The two halves of him fought, but the stronger of the two won. Deep down, he wanted to be taken. All that mattered was this moment. Shit, probably half the industry had had to suck someone's nuts once or twice to get ahead in the game. Nobody would know.
He felt DMX steady his dick, still hard as steel, at his rectum.
"Yo man, get some lube," Nas pleaded.
"Aiight," DMX said, his voice a gruff whisper. He spat directly onto Nas' exposed ass and a wad of saliva pooled at his hole. "Hold still, nigga."
The pressure was intense even at the begging. As DMX continued pressure on his ass, his body burned in fire. Nas moaned in pain as his body shook. Like a wicked hot poker being driven up his bowels, DMX's dick pushed forward, ripping away his virginity.
Nas buried his face in the sofa pillows, his senses screaming all the while.
"Yeah," DMX groaned. "You almost got it, nigga."
Nas cursed and his body trembled. Sweat soaked the pillow and his muscles ached from being rigid for so long. Part of him wanted this all to stop. Part of him knew it was too late already.
"Relax, nigga."
Nas bit down on the pillow. How the fuck could he relax with a dick stuck up his ass, tearing flesh.
DMX kneaded the muscles on Nas' back with his hands. The movement was firm enough to distract him from the pain that was flooding his body. He seized upon the sensation of the rapper's fingers, feeling them mold his skin and explore his back.
He felt his breathing ease, the rigidness of his body fade.
His face was wet with tears but DMX continued to massage his back, whispering softly to him, "Yeah, nigga. Shit feels so good, boy."
The pain that had crippled him was gone now and in it's place only a feeling of fullness. He stretched out his arms that had become crapped from tension and felt the cool air revive him.
"Yeah, boy," Nas croaked, his voice like a man's that had emerged from a desert.
Encouraged, DMX quickened his pace. Short, slow strokes lengthened and grew faster and his dick slide with greater ease into Nas' ass.
"I been dreamin about this ass, nigga," DMX said, giving a cheek a slap as he thrust into it.
Fuck me.
Nas gripped the dick with his ass and milked it with friction. He savored the feeling of strength radiating from his fellow artist. There was a security there, of knowing that he had everything handled.
Nas released himself and allowed the sensation to consume him.
DMX's speed quickened, his once fluid strokes now faster and more erratic.
He was nearing his end.
"Fuck that ass," Nas grunted, the friction of his dick against the sofa's armrest maintaining his erection every time DMX fucked him.
DMX's breaths were labored, his grunts deep and distant like he was fighting to stay in the game. The sounds of flesh slapping filled Nas with lust and he threw his ass back to meet each stroke. To feel every inch the man had to give him.
"Aw shit," DMX cursed, his arms trembling for a moment as he gripped Nas' sides.
Then hot spurts flooded his ass and Nas knew he was being bred. He grabbed his dick and stroked it, hard and fast. It was raw from rubbing against the sofa but he jerked it with fervor as the warm liquid in his bowels slid down his thighs.
"Cum nigga."
And he did, throwing his body up and back into the arms of DMX, his thick ropes of cum arched across the sofa until his body had been cleansed and he slid down onto the couch exhausted.
With his eyes closed, he smelled the evidence. The aroma of sex and primal lust was heavy in the air. His ass ached but he would live. The worst had been over.
He heard rustling by his side and opened his eyes to see DMX slipping back into his clothes as he wiped his dick on a washcloth.
For a moment he found himself wanting something more. Affection.
But he knew what had happened. He had been through this many time before, just never on this end of the game. How many times had he used a woman to satisfy his dick, only to bounce as soon as it was over. Sometimes he didn't even hang around to help her get a nut. Sometimes he just left.
Now he felt it.
"I'm tired as fuck, nigga," DMX sighed, slipping his shirt over his head. "How long are you stickin around here?"
Now that the movie was wrapped, there was no need for him to stay in the city any longer. He could return home and pick up with his music where he left off.
"Probably go back next week," he said, catching the washcloth DMX tossed him and wiping up the cum that had dripped on him.
"I feel you. We'll have to hook up before you leave."
"Yeah," he said, his voice flat. It had just been a nut. He knew that going in. Then why did he feel so disappointed. What had he expected to happen? A relationship?
I ain't gay.
"I'll holla, nigga," DMX called, his hand turning the door of the bathroom.
"One," Nas called back, watching the dark figure disappear out the doorway.
He needed another shower now and something to eat. It had been a long movie shoot.
Hollywood.
He'd be glad to get back home.