Plastic Prison (Gorillaz fanfic) (2D x Murdoc)

Chapter 13

(2D’s POV)

I looked at him, but he didn't look at me. He kept his eyes closed when he pressed his forehead to mine. My wrists were bruised in Murdoc’s vice grip, and so was the thigh he held onto. My arse hurt more than anything though. There was enough lube, but not nearly enough preparation… I didn't hurt now, but I knew I'd feel it in a few hours, when this was over.

“Fuck, Stu…” Mudz mumbled against my cheek. “No matter how many times I fuck ya… you're always so… fuckin’…” he said again, only stopping to bit at my ear and moan into it. It was one of the few places he didn't usually touch, the one place without teeth marks or bruises. His biting moved down, behind my ear, down my jaw, back to my neck.

At least I could stare at the ceiling now. Still and emotionless as any other time. At least I could breath better like this, than with my face in a pillow.

It really wasn't as bad as it could have been. Besides his grip, the movements were soft, and even though things would sting, nothing was in any true pain. If this were someone else, I may have actually enjoyed it, but I didn't. I couldn't and I didn't, and parts of me still hurt, and there was no emotions except for lust and greed…

This wasn't sex after all, just a quick fuck. That's all I was here.

But like this… this was too close, too intimate. It wasn't normal, not even for Murdoc.

His stomach rubbed down on my hard-on, and I couldn't help but to grind up onto the hard heat for some kind of friction. For some kind of relief, instead of just staring at this damn ceiling doing nothing.

Teeth were on my shoulder and collarbone, gentler than normal, softer. More lips than teeth, but still. A shiver ran up my spine when he managed to hit my prostate. The feeling was unwanted, but oh, so good…

I hadn't even realized I had been moaning until he had done the same into my ear, again. I bit at my lip as best I could, but groans still made there way through. I couldn't deny that he at least knew what he was doing, fuck did he know… but I kept myself silent. It was still him after all. Still him doing this to me, making me watch, making me listen.

In minutes I was spent, and then so was he. He didn't get up right away, instead laying completely on top of me, still inside of me. Until his, er- our, panting calmed down. I didn't move, I don't speak, I was almost too scared to breath properly! It was actually quite hard to breath right with him on top of me, face still in my neck, hands on top of mine. Though his grip was softer now, than it had been. It wasn't like a vice, if anything it was almost, dare I say, delicate.

He lifted his head, and instantly his eyes went to mine, and I couldn't read his expression. It wasn't cold, or angry like it normally would have been. He looked down at my mouth, and for a second I almost thought he would've-

His sudden movement ripped me from my thoughts, just as he had ripped himself from me. So soon, too fast. Another reason for it to hurt later in the night. Or was it morning? I don't even know anymore.

He slammed the bathroom door behind him. I didn't hear the lock, but when he started the shower I figured he'd be in there for a bit. God, could I use a decent shower. Even if I wanted to get up, I don't think I could. Just laying here I could feel my legs turning to jelly. All I could do now was curl up in a sad attempt to get warm again. It's already warm. Really warm.

(Murdoc's POV)

Sweet merciless Satan, he's beautiful. I never want to leave this tight heat. Or stop feeling that racing heartbeat of his against my chest, hammering like a rapid drum inside of him. I don't even want to leave this now bloodied neck of his.

I managed to lift my chest off of his, I needed to get up. But I took one last look at his face before I did. He was flushed with embarrassment and pleasure and hate, and god he was gorgeous.

If only… all I'd have to do is lean down. Just a few inches.

No.

Stop. I couldn't, it'd be too… confusing. Yeah, sure, that's the word.

I stood quickly and quietly, running to the bathroom. Now I really needed a shower. With really hot water. To the point where when I stepped in, it burned. This is how I got my head straight.

I never feel good about what I do, or at least not after. While it's happening yeah, fuck does it feel good, but after… I feel like shit. Like I do now. But the feeling of him is more than addicting, he's like a drug, stronger than coke or heroine or, fuck it, even meth. I'd know, I've done it all!

And none of it was ever as good as Stuart.

The water from the faucet has gone cold at this point. I half ass wash my hair and step out, not even bothering to dry myself off before heading to my worn-out mattress…

… That apparently still had a worn-out 2D on it.

Poor thing was completely unconscious, physically (and emotionally) drained. He kept himself curled in a tight ball, just on the very corner of the bed. Blue hair covering a porcelain pale face, and hiding those dark eyes.

I sat down close to him, not knowing where to go at this point. What to do. I pushed his hair out of his face. It was sad really, that this was the only way I could see him calm. The only time he didn't look completely terrified if I came near him.

I don't remember when it got this bad. I know it was my fault though. I know that, too many drinks in, I couldn't control my actions. One thing lead to another, and I found myself in his room, on his bed, holding him down… fuck, what's wrong with me?

2D study in his sleep, making me move my hand away. Sleep, that's all he seemed to do, and yet, he never had enough if it.

So pale, so thin. Too thin. I fed him, he ate whenever I ate. Whether it was in his room or upstairs with me, but he still didn't eat much. I could see his ribs. I wish I could help...

Stop.

Sleep. I need… sleep...