Before The Interview (2Doc oneshot)

Before The Interview

Long sharp nails dig into the jutted out bones of his ribs, marking over bruises, scratches from the previous night. He tries to ignore the way Stuart winces. Puts his pale hand on his own, fingers intertwining. Part of him is his dads voice sharp as a razor in his skull telling him yet again that this is gay, disgusting fucking faggot. But the way 2ds smiling at him, the way he feels warm and his t shirt is soft against his fingertips makes it a little easier to ignore.
They have a few moments now, before the next interview, before the next part of their tour and he's going to make the most of it. He leans down, jagged teeth making little marks on his neck, loving the shiver that escapes those lips- does every noise he makes have to be so musical?
He gets tired of the same questions- why do you hate him? Why do you beat each other up so much? When it's become standard now. They fight, argue, satan knows they always will.
Murdoc Niccals is not good at monogamy- the word leaves a stale taste in his mouth. It doesn't help that Murdoc Niccals also is not ok with 2d NOT being monogamous.
They don't tell the press that most of the bruises are from his fingers, tight on his hips as they sweat and moan and shake in the basement of Kong, in the bed of his winnebago. That there are bruises on his own ribs where Stuart, frustrated and angry and tired of talking will hit first sometimes. They need it, the violence comes when they can't talk any more, when they just need and ache and its raw and everything is splayed out there and neither needs to talk anymore. When words arent necessity. They both prefer it that way.
Stuart grins- beautiful- and moves to kiss him back.
"Ya keep bitin' at it theyre gonna ask questions" he laughs. Murdoc chuckles at the quick forming bruises on his neck. They have enough time to leave some more questionable ones.
He goes for his vein under his jaw again and this time Stuart's voice is cut off into a moan, his other hand trailing down from his hip, toying with what's already ready to meet him, pushing against the fabric of his jeans.
"they can ask all they fucking want."
"What the fuck am I gonna say?" 2d moans but he's past caring now, Murdoc's hand skimming under the now painful tightness of his boxers.
"Tell them I did it." he laughs.
2d looks at him incredulously.
"wot about when they ask why?"
Murdoc pauses, licks his lips grinning slowly and loves the way 2d shivers at that, comes in close to lick the shell of his ear as his hand finally meets its destination.
"Tell 'em the truth. That I did it because you're mine."
2d whimpers, shivering into his grip, hips jutted out further upwards desperate as Murdoc bites his ear.
"Ok. yeah. Im yours" he sighs his own hands moving down to undo Murdoc's belt.
He doesn't tell them that of bite marks arent even mentioned until the end.
Noodle prattles on in japanese- something russell seems to think is about the collaborative process and the advances technology has made on that which benefits them.
The journalist a little overwhelmed spins on 2d and asks him about the jagged lines all over his neck. Murdoc side eyes him curious, frowning as 2d makes out a little joke about over-enthusiastic fans.
He growls, his jealousy getting the better of him.
"They should be coming to me not my dullard of a singer" he drawls out. The journalist takes it as jealousy and asks him about groupies. 2d grins and Murdoc slightly nudges his foot with his own. MY singer. The journalist neglects to pick up on it.
They never do. And that, for now is the way they like it._________________________________________