This just sort of escaped from my mind recently. I think 2D is lonely...
Gorillaz belong to Damon Albarn, Jamie Hewlett and Cass Browne.
RATED M: Because it is a dirty fic. (Not because of EXACT imagery described...but because how EXACTLY detailed you may decide to see it...I don't know...)
Thank you for reading.
It was something he'd always known, no more complicated than that. The idea was simply fixated within the fragile plates of his own broken skull. Carved- into those hollow eyes.
Murdoc.
Always, he'd known Murdoc. For as long as he could painfully recall, Murdoc has always been the one to fill his fragmented thoughts and cloud his vision. Keeping him awake and soothing him to sleep all at once. His scent was the most familiar thing 2D had ever experienced; he loved it. Or maybe...there was just nothing more common to all of his damaged senses.
Yet, it hurt. All of it, almost constantly it hurt. 2D would find himself sighing into the curve of his pillow every night- waiting. He knew it wasn't impossible, he knew. And this only assisted in fueling the thoughts that raced across the slate of his mind each evening.
He couldn't stop. He'd certainly tried...most certainly he had tried, but every time, his frail synapses succumbed to the very same thoughts.
And he would moan; roll over in the sheets and bite his lip with shattered teeth as skeletal fingers slid between his legs. He'd make himself sigh and scream at the slightest of touches. Because Murdoc overtook all of his notions.
It made him sick. It made him feel ill and hurt afterwards. Every night he fell terribly nauseous over the sink. Soft hair, wet and discolored with vomit. The pure features of his face turned awful from sick and saliva. Oftentimes he would simply collapse to the bathroom floor; not to awaken till morning, in a sea of his own disgust.
Yet, knowing this. All of this...he didn't cease, how could he? As stupid as he was, 2D knew exactly what he wanted -how it was making him feel.
He wanted Murdoc's hands on him. Sharp fingers on his chest and poison teeth digging into his neck until he was numb.
So 2D would pretend. Pretend that the fierce thumping of his heart was not his own. Pretend that something warm and infected kissed his face and made him writhe in satisfaction.
Pretend that he wasn't in bed alone. Cold hands shaking against his thigh- as he lay vulnerable and suffocated with want. Empty, unfulfilled.
Malfunctioning.
I know it doesn't make much sense at all...I am sorry. It just sort of leaked out of my brain.