Warning: Murdoc/2-D; drug use; mentions of sex (will get steadily more graphic); stuff. Please, if this really makes you uncomfortable, I wouldn't suggest reading it.
Genres: General/Romance/Angst
Full Summary: With Murdoc at the helm of the next Gorillaz CD, 2-D is unwillingly shipped to Plastic Beach but as always faithful to his commanding band leader. Murdoc has only seemed to fall more crazed and outlandish in his ideas, his sanity and sobriety seeming to deteriorate like his health. Murdoc's lies continue at a steady pace, 2-D unsure how to separate the fibs from the truth. Will it be Murdoc who wraps 2-D around his finger, or the other way around?
This chapter has masturbation.
2-D stepped towards the boxes piled in the center of the room, unsurprisingly restless since his drug induced journey, pulling out the first of the parcels in reach before tearing the paper open. He was happy to find his old pink comforter, wrapping it tightly around his shoulders as he sought the familiar comfort. Many of his contents from Kong were missing, 2-D giving a sigh as he found only a collection of sparse clothing and shoes, some of his trainers missing their mate.
His banjo he was relieved to find, sitting Indian style in the empty room with his blanket tied around his collar bone, plucking a few strings. He tuned it for what felt like ages, finding it relaxing with a cigarette tucked into the side of his mouth, helping him cope in the strange, foreboding environment which was now his. He didn't bother to put away the tossed clothes he already had strewn across the room, standing to grab his sheets and place them on the naked mattress. Stu flopped down with his comforter thrown across him, lying on his back as he stared at the cracked and weathered ceiling.
'I need to tell mum to send my lamp,' 2-D looked around in the dark, giving a shiver. 'An' for a load of otha stuff.'
The singer remembered having his cell phone before being gassed, and only hoped that it was in the remnants of the possessions he left upstairs. 2-D wondered what else Murdoc managed to stuff into the crate with him, and told himself tomorrow he'd retrieve his phone to contact his mother. More than likely after Murdoc's call she was having a fit, worried over her only son and where the hell he could be.
2-D lit up another cigarette, finding it a relaxing vice when nervous, something he was definitely afflicted with in the cold, new, and without a doubt eerie setting. He stared at the rusted and jutting pipes decorating his room, one larger and thicker than he, scrutinizing it with wide eyes. He took another drag, glaring about the place, trying to find where the petulant sound of a dripping pipe rang from, until his elbow smacked into the purple curtain above him.
It moved a bit, giving a small glimpse of a circular window resting behind it, but shifted quickly back into place. 2-D stared at it before raising his hand to feel the soft violet drapes, but heard Murdoc's caution ring clear in his subconscious and hesitated. When Murdoc screamed, 2-D knew from past experience it was best to listen.
Something deep inside told a curious Stu Pot to open it. 'You might not like the answer,' responded somewhere deep in retaliation, 2-D curling up on his side and nuzzling his pillow with a sordid look in his eyes. He reached to ash what seemed like his tenth cigarette on the flap of one of the empty boxes, his hand lazily swinging back as he dropped it to his side.
Stu sat up a bit, reaching for a cassette player that managed to make it over with the few possessions that came. He stuck in a mix tape he created some time ago, keeping it low as he moved back to lie down. As he tried to get comfortable for at least the third time, he entwined with the comforter on his bed, the music beginning to play softly. 2-D's inky eyes were spacious as he stared at the decaying wall in front of him, alone with only his thoughts. Noodle had easily sauntered into his memories, her smile and laughter haunting him as he hid his face in his bed's cushion.
2-D once again felt tears well at the corner of his damaged eyes, letting them fall free and stain his pillow in the privacy of his room. His shoulders shook as he suppressed a sob. How could Murdoc dare to suggest forgetting about it? Like it was nothing, like one day the guitarist would just show up on the shores of Plastic Beach, running and smiling as if the bowels of Hell didn't traumatize her.
2-D thought back to Murdoc's journey to Hades; did that even happen? Or could it have been hallucination conjured up by his ridiculous thoughts and alcoholic habit. 2-D just knew that Murdoc was once again being elusive, not telling him the whole truth back in his library. Murdoc just sat silent, which didn't surprise 2-D, the more emotional of the two actually giving the other credit despite his avoidance of showing consolation. Murdoc handled it a lot better than he would have thought, being so openly uncomfortable in occasions of such sensitivity.
How could 2-D and Murdoc make a CD without Noodle; not just Noodle, but Russel? The two hadn't even discussed their MIA drummer, neither hearing from him since Demon Days. It didn't come as big of a shock, with Russel having so many issues with the spiritual world and his psyche, not to mention the producing he was most likely participating in. It was just Murdoc and 2-D, his stomach at the realization dropping to what felt like his ankles.
As he sat up, he raised his arm to wipe the tears from his deep set eyes before moving to the ledge on his right, grabbing the smokes Murdoc tossed into the room. He lit up and inhaled, his shoulders going slack as he leaned against his heard board pensively. What if Noodle was still alive? Where could she be, and what on earth made her so secretive in her whereabouts? 2-D would never know, at least while not on this island.
He was still tireless and constantly shifting in vain attempts to sleep, but he flopped back down on the bed, the curtains moving once again with him.
'It can't be that bad, can it?' he said, the vocalist wide awake and definitely not amused in his empty environment. Long fingers took a hold of the curtain's material, telling himself this as he ripped them open, sitting on his knobby knees to get a good look.
What he found was a window; a completely round circle, lacking muntin dividers on the pane, a complete glass shield opening to the ocean. He stared out, giving a blink, not at all getting what Murdoc was going on about.
2-D's snooping certainly got the best of him and for the worst. There was a particular reason why Murdoc had forbid 2-D to look outside that very window.
"Fuck yes," Murdoc flipped the box of the DVD over in his clawed hand, taking the time to look over the text that detailed the back, as well as the attractive and naked female standing besides it. "Forgot all about orderin' you."
The forty-three year old lay comfortably down his bed, which at this time of night had the comforter kicked to his feet to leave him unrestricted. Murdoc rested within the soiled sheets messed with various stains, ignoring a huge slash that ran over the material as feathers spewed forth. The jade man over looked it with ease, as well as the various hats sprawled across the floor with no explanation. His servant (who was treated more along the likes of a slave), would dutifully make Murdoc's bed every day after the old man grouchily tumbled out of it, fixing the patterned blanket and decorating it with Murdoc's collection of caps. It would lie looking untouched before their owner would flop right back down on them purposely and roll about, getting a thrill out of ruining chores of the many Tattoo had to perform.
The mattress was fairly wide, much larger than the one that occupied the Winne, and although it had a few classic 'Murdoc-esque' blemishes, was fairly cleaner than the last one. Murdoc had even managed to get most of his ash in the ashtray besides the nightstand's digital clock, which was now pushed further towards his Mickey Mouse telephone as a supply of Jameson rested at the edge.
The bassist reached for the flask shaped bottle, opening the cap and sipping it gingerly. "Where were we?" he dropped the DVD besides his bare leg before shifting to his alcohol, Murdoc only in his dirtied y-front skivvies and shirt from earlier, now unbuttoned to expose his ribcage down to his slightly rounded belly. He itched at his happy trail but didn't remove his hand from the curls as he picked up the box one final time, reading the name out loud. "'Free My Willy'―bring it on."
Murdoc had ordered a collection of pornography to his home, including wonderful titles such as Star Whores, Pulp Friction, and Throbin Hood (Prince of Beaves). Murdoc always took his porno collection seriously, having most of the movies in alphabetical order or by year, much like his prized records. He reached under his pillow after throwing the cover to the floor, pulling out his remote after one quick gulp of alcohol. He pointed it towards a small and elder television set, not at all close to comparing to the theater system within the lobby, the screen a bit snowy as it switched on. It was clear enough to allow an image to come on screen, Murdoc unable to stop his unsightly hand from lowering past the waistband.
Even though the film had just started, the female's moans were getting progressively louder (not to mention a little -too- theatrical) and Murdoc could feel himself become hard in seconds. He didn't know what the fuck the movie had to do about a whale, but didn't care as he lowered his drawers a bit, whipping out his rapidly hardening cock.
"Mmmmm, you dirty lil' bird," he spoke as he watched with the hunger of a starving man. Murdoc first skimmed the head of his length with his thumb gently, moving quickly as he took hold of himself with a firmer grasp, sliding his skilled fingers down at a steady pace to produce wanted friction. He bit his lip, despite it still afflicted with pain from the hit that 2-D swung, switching his gaze from the work he began on his painfully erect dick to the screen. Suddenly his head threw back to the fluffy pillows behind him as he let out a sigh, closing his eyes as he began to get lost to the woman's repeating moans. Murdoc now masturbated regularly within the lonely confines of Plastic Beach, considering himself the only real inhabitant of his plastic palace, not really counting Tattoo as a formidable human being.
He was used to spending his nights alone, quiet except for the many movies he began to collect years ago, filled with pathetic acting jobs of yearn and sexual desire, and yet like many men ate it up like a fine delicacy.
Murdoc's thrusting into his hand began to slow at the sound of a cry, at first faint but gradually getting louder as the seconds ticked by. Murdoc froze completely, paused in his self administrations as he grabbed the remote, pressing the button for the volume to lower it.
"Faceache," he whispered to himself, immediately identifying the shrill yells to be his as he managed to push himself up. He stopped as he felt his prick throb, staring at it wet with some precum before switching his gaze to the screen, seeing a close up of the female on the back of the box caught in a ecstatic groan. Another yell made up his mind as he tucked himself back within his underwear, standing as he used the posts jutting from the headboard for support.
He was definitely intoxicated, the room looking disoriented as he moved towards a large cardboard box, one that appeared to house a disassembled rowing machine. He moved it from against the wall, almost falling forward with it as his mind raced, happy to see a double-barreled shot gun hidden behind it. Scooping it up, Murdoc flipped open the nozzle as he assured himself it was loaded. With heavy, barefoot steps, he wasted no time as he moved towards the steel door to throw its wheel to the left and slam it open, just missing the glass case set against the grainy walls. He moved back towards the elevator, stumbling a bit in his movements, praying to Satan it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.
Murdoc pushed the button to the elevator, 2-D's screams only getting louder and more crazed. "Fucking dullard, relax!" Murdoc barked to only himself, although deep down his own bout of terror was devouring him. The possibilities of what he could open the door was endless. It wasn't the former Zombies of Kong that had once afflicted the band that frightened him, now the culprit of his fears being Murdoc's own personal nuisance.
'How could they have gotten down there?' he was baffled, the elevator seeming slower than usual as the doors pulled open. Before entering, he ran to his bed and didn't bother to throw pants on, choosing to take a hold of the flask of whiskey. He ran back to the elevator, which sat open only to amplify 2-D's shouts as they left the shaft, the man coming close to falling with his artillery over the mess blocking the lift.
Cursing heavily as he managed to catch himself by the door, his eyesight remained devastatingly blurry as he searched for the button to 2-D's room. He pressed it a few times, continuing to berate his mind with worrying questions. 'Fucking pirates, fucking pirates,' continued in his head, clutching his gun tighter to himself. "If you fuck with my singer, I swear," He swayed as he mumbled to himself, knowing the way his heart raced was definitely not good for his health. "He didn' even sing nothin' yet!"
Murdoc was growing impatient with the elevators lagging pace, quickly sobering up as 2-D's skrieking got louder and more aggressive. He ripped the cap off his alcohol and gulped the remaining liquid with ease, which was impressive considering the bottle was at one point pleasantly full. Murdoc ripped it away and threw it to the ground, satisfied it didn't smash, wiping his arm over his wet lips. Murdoc was (dare say it) worried, but if the dullard kept screaming like a banshee, Murdoc figured he was well enough to shout bloody murder.
As the doors began to separate, he slipped his body past before they had room to fully open, nearly tripping on his way out before attempting to stand straight. Murdoc tried to steady his gaze across the room, stilling his eyesight as he clutched the gun in both hands. "Wot? Wot are you screamin' about?" There was no one; no one but 2-D huddled under his familiar pink blanket, hiding under it as he continued to yell, his screams now muffled by the warm material.
Murdoc stared, still rocking a bit in his spot of the room, the bassist unsure if this was a joke or not as he lowered the gun to the floor softly. He moved towards 2-D, ripping off the cloth to reveal his hiding space, ignoring the whine he gave as he took him with both hands by the neck. The whimper became warped and strangled as 2-D crossed his damaged eyes, cutting it short with the sickening sounds of him being choked. This didn't quell his struggling, the younger man squirming in Murdoc's grasp like an unearthed worm.
"Are you kiddin' me!" Murdoc was beyond furious, completely seeing red as he ignored the tiny flecks fluttering between them from the ceiling, scattering downwards from the impact of 2-D's thick skull. At this point the singer was trying desperately to speak yet Murdoc wouldn't have it; Stu instantly noticed how heavily his breath smelt of alcohol. "I was about to bust a God damn nut!"
If 2-D blushed heavily, it was un-noticeable with how crimson his face was becoming as Murdoc's grip didn't lighten, the older man pumped full of adrenaline as he spoke menacingly to his singer. "I thought I hit sense into you in the fuckin' foyer!"
2-D watched with utter dread as Murdoc removed a hand from his neck and elevated it in warning, the singer trashing wildly as he remembered the use of the arms glued to his side. A shaky finger raised and pointed towards the window, the bassist's reaction slow as he took his time looking away from his captive, whose face was changing into an interesting shade of indigo.
Murdoc stared across the room towards 2-D's guiding hand, his breath still heavy from the rush of anxiety and alcohol as he slowly smiled, looking back to 2-D as he released his hold. 2-D fell to the floor in a hysterical heap, only continuing to writhe as he curled up into the wall, shaking violently as he mumbled incoherently.
Some years ago, all four band members of Gorillaz traveled to an aquarium, only one of their team not so reluctant to attend. Noodle was young and begging to go in her natural tongue of Japanese, Russel insisting they all attend; the New York native was willing to do anything in his power to please the young girl who had only recently joined their group. It was an attempt to 'bond', Murdoc not having much interest whatsoever but had actually agreed to tag along with no more complaining than usual. He had managed to talk 2-D into smoking before the trip, the two men sucking down a spliff before entering the Jeep, Murdoc with sunglasses on to hide his bloodshot eyes. 2-D giggled in the backseat, laughing hysterically at the Satanists jokes throughout the whole trip.
Everything had been going well, the strange group of friends having a peaceful time, Noodle enjoying the animals the most. She would chatter on, the men not understanding a word she was saying, the four of them looking as odd as ever, a normality when they entered public places.
"Yo guys, Noodle wants to see the whales." Russel held Noodle's hand, the girl pointing and continuing to go on in Japanese, her entourage disregarding her as she spoke.
Murdoc snorted, scratching under his arm as he shrugged. "I need a fuckin' cigarette, I'll pass."
"Me too!" the singer spoke quickly, the two other men looking over with raised eyebrows, 2-D continuing with a nervous smile, taping the tips of his fingers in tandem. "Y'know," he cleared his throat. "S'been like over an hour or so."
"Yeah, we'll meet you when it's over." Murdoc spoke gently, still eyeing a fidgeting 2-D before looking back to Russel. "We'll let you have all the fun."
Russel rolled his eyes, being pulled towards the hall to the whale exhibit by the shockingly powerful child, who continued speaking happily in the only language she knew at the time. Murdoc and 2-D made their way to the closest exit, lighting up a cigarette and taking a much needed gulp of nicotine.
"This sucks. Fish are borin'―Borin'an' dumb."
2-D shrugged. "Yeah, my high wore off afta them penguins. Man, where they cute."
"Cute? You're such a queer." Murdoc laughed, 2-D blushing as he haughtily puffed his cigarette.
"Nu-uh, am not!"
"Oh yeah?" Murdoc's grin grew demeaning, taking a needed inhale and holding in his smoke. "Then why did you seem so nervous about them whales, faceache?" A cloud of fog emitted from Murdoc's crooked nose, 2-D looking down as if he were guilty as the Satanist dragged on. "Don't think I didn' catch that."
2-D went ridged, immediately avoiding eye contact as he looked towards his feet. "Dunno."
"Dunno?" repeated Murdoc as he pulled off the wall he leaned against, bringing himself close to 2-D as if the mocking wasn't enough to hit home. "Wot, don't trust to tell me?" he said it with a bit of laughter as smoke billowed into Stu's visage. "Tell me, you're scared."
"Shut up," 2-D didn't know how to retaliate, the blush that had gathered before returning tenfold as he stared down at Murdoc, turning away as if it would make the question disappear; despite 2-D's eyes being undecipherable at times, they were the reason Murdoc didn't have to hear the words come out of his mouth.
"You're so weird―whales? When the hell do you expect to meet a whale?"
A shrill scream broke through his hazy thoughts and brought him back to reality, 2-D breathing not remotely normal as it sounded strangled, his hair standing on multiple ends. He stood up, moving towards Murdoc like a caged animal, screaming as he motioned back towards the window.
"GET IT AWAY! PLEASE!" he took in a deep breath. "IT WON'T STOP LOOKIN' AT ME!"
Murdoc stepped back from the taller man, moving towards the opening in question and leaning inwards, but made no movement to close it. He made eye contact with 2-D's offender, mesmerized by the massive pupil possibly the size of a baseball, before the gleaming eye blinked and broke their stare down. His intoxication returned with renewed vigor, smirking once again as he looked towards 2-D sardonically.
"An' here is me gettin' all worked up—silly me." He studied the singer, who looked at Murdoc as if he was the one who was screaming like a lunatic, his whole body shivering as he quickly pulled his quivering hand back to himself, as if the whale would somehow rip it off.
"Please Murdoc, I'm begging you," His chest was heaving up and down, the man swaying as if he was in some type of trance as his hands cradled themselves. He moved back to the blanket on the floor, digging his face into it before looking back towards the eye glaring into the room, his breathing only increasing.
Murdoc let out a laugh, unable to help himself, hitting his knee as he continued to chuckle before falling carelessly to the bed. "2-D, relax, it only eats, y'know, krill, it's not even technically a carnivo-"
"I DON'T CARE!" he swallowed, ripping the blanket off his head as he lay half way on the floor, speaking to Murdoc with a growl. "GO AWAY!" Murdoc was shocked by his snarl. "Get it away, or go away." His last phrase was spoken in a whisper; he reminded Murdoc of some type of small dog, which was frightened yet baring its teeth in defense.
"Relax, dullard; jeez," he moved towards the window again with a pout now that his fun was ruined, 2-D's eyes never leaving him as if he was the beast himself, drawing his feet inward and scooting towards the wall with no exit. With the men having an extensive past together, Murdoc had seen 2-D scared of a strange assortment of things; sometimes the older man was the reason to this, but never in such a wreck of a state that he was in now.
Murdoc's clawed hands found the curtain after propping the forgotten shot gun against the wall, looking over to 2-D prior to closing it. Stu was beginning to scoot towards the door with his eyes still wide, his gray bags massive as every inch of 2-D spasm in alarm. Finally he swept them shut and 2-D instantly stilled, as if the encounter had never happened.
"Fank you Murdoc, I dunno wot came-" before 2-D could finish his sentence, Murdoc had maneuvered over clumsily in his drunken state, grabbing him roughly by the chin and forcing the younger man to look upwards. 2-D's large eyes strangely glimmered as he met Murdoc's mismatched, the bassist glaring down yet not nearly as forceful as a few moments ago.
"Who the fuck," he paused; looking towards the covered pane before he once again met the singer's stare. "Is scared of whales?"
2-D was about to speak before he remembered Murdoc's statement from before, looking downwards before quickly averting his eyesight from Murdoc's bulge. Switching his sight earnestly to the side, he managed to respond with a rasped voice due to the strain Murdoc left only moments before on his throat.
"Um," Murdoc had definitely noticed, 2-D not enjoying the spiky leer that broke across his green complexion.
Murdoc didn't say a word at first; his mouth opened before closing back shut, an eyebrow rising as his sneer lingered.
"Wow, dullard―that wasn' even subtle." He snickered. "Good to see you're well enough to stare at my junk."
2-D's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he stared up, looking like a deer in flood lights as his shoulders drooped. He was taking care not to remove his eyesight from Murdoc's own, completely far too mortified to glimpse lower than eye level again. It didn't help that he was in a close proximity to Murdoc's package, which was only covered by the thin material of his briefs.
"Mmm," Murdoc stared down at 2-D in this position, and he couldn't help but to lengthen his grin, enjoying the sight of 2-D on his knees in front of him, and immediate lustful thoughts entered his twisted head. 'So this is what 2-D would look like on this level.'
Oh, what a wonderful thought.
"Um," Murdoc's dreams were shattered by his muse's thick Cockney accent. "'M sorry―I dunno where this fear comes from. It's always been wiff me. No one really ever knew about it, 'cept you."
Murdoc almost felt sorry for exploiting 2-D's phobia, but felt it was justified for the filthy thoughts that the skinny male was plaguing him with.
"I blacked out." 2-D wanted to look at anything but Murdoc, switching his gaze instead to the floor as he finished.
"Hm," Murdoc finally pulled his hand to himself, knowing that if it loitered any longer, the semi that was beginning to redevelop would afflict him full force. 'History repeats itself.'
Murdoc, who failed to notice the room being less empty in his panic (which he could never muster enough courage to admit), took a peak around as his feet moved on their own accord, shuffling awkwardly backwards onto the bed as he took a seat. Murdoc sat with his back to the wall besides the window, the singer feeling more comfortable staring at his bassist than that gateway to Hell.
"Fuck," Murdoc rubbed a hand over his face, the boost of hormones moving him quickly to 2-D's room had completely dissipated; now the alcohol made his bones feel like jelly. "I'm wasted." The room was beginning to spin in a mix of colors, the singer becoming concerned.
"Are you awright?"
"Shut up," Murdoc hiccupped as he managed to fall on his side to the bed, but his eyes remained open, although heavily lidded. "You fuckin owe me—beer, now."
2-D stood up at the order and nodded, feeling it was only proper after 'interrupting' Murdoc. 'After all,' 2-D pondered. 'Seems like he rushed to get down here.'
"Of course!" he paused for a moment and he rubbed his chin. "Where is it?"
"In the globe, dentface" he shook his head where he lay, letting the side of it hit 2-D's pillow; the world was definitely whirling, even closing his eyes didn't help matters. "Quickly."
"Awright, I will." He assured Murdoc who said nothing in return, 2-D unsure if he passed out on his mattress. He did what he requested although his unconsciousness was extremely possible, moving quietly to stand over him and take a hold of the flashlight sitting too close to the window. He shuddered and pulled it to himself quickly, turning to the elevator to push the knob to Plastic Beach's study.
He entered the elevator, looking up to the flickering bulb above, relieved to see it on. The lift shuddered to a stop at the library, opening the doors to allow 2-D entrance. The room was pitch black excluding faint moonlight illuminating a small patch from the window, 2-D with quivering fingers flipping up the switch to his flash light.
After moving the light across the scenery to get a grip of his surroundings, he moved forward, happy to find the globe not too far from the elevator's location. He found the lever as he pulled up the top half of the model, revealing multiple shaped and colored bottles stashed away. 2-D pulled a few of them up to study the labels, recognizing a few but definitely not all of them; Murdoc had certainly expanded to his already massive selection.
2-D pulled out two bottled beers from the location, closing it back up before moving back towards the elevator. He moved in and switched off his flashlight, studying some of the tags of graffiti on its walls, making note to leave some of his own in the future.
He entered his bedroom after the short trip, happy to leave the creepy confines alone in the unfamiliar studio, Murdoc now on his stomach sprawled out completely on his mattress. 2-D hesitantly sat on a spot free of Murdoc's territory, his limbs taking up most of the space.
"Um," he didn't know if he should wake him. "Murdoc?"
Murdoc didn't respond at first, 2-D hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle shake. "Murdoc."
"Wot!" he turned to look at 2-D, raising his head in a quick whip of movement, his eyes wide before his lids drooped; just when he was enjoying 2-D's usual butterscotch scent. "I'm fuckin' sleepin', git."
2-D winced but was happy to see no physical abuse coming his way, speaking quickly as he lifted Murdoc's beverage. "I got wot you wanted? Took one too, if you don't mind."
"Leave it on the side of me." He careless swiped the air as he rolled onto his back, his eyes remaining shut as he spoke tiredly. "You go somewhere, I need to pass out."
"Muds," 2-D tried to rationalize as he spoke nervously. "I don't know this place very well, an' even though I don't wanna sleep in here wiff that whale, this place in general doesn't sit right wiff me an' I dunno where to―"
"Shhhh," Murdoc put a finger to 2-D's mouth and shocked him into silence, the bassist drunkenly swaying before lowering back down to the cushions. 'Why do the pretty ones always talk so much?'
The older of the two rolled onto his side to show him his back, 2-D pouting and looking defeated as he held two chilled and quite full beers. Murdoc looked obliterated and not to mention exhausted as he breathed into Stu's pillow, frightening a now observant 2-D on how much he had aged over the few years. His skin was so green, his rumpled shirt open to show his rounding, jade stomach. 2-D could peak a bit at his ribs, which were still slightly protruding; 2-D always found it funny how thin the rest of the man's body could be with the exception of a bit of a paunch above his belt.
"I dun even know where a guest room is!" it went to deaf ears, a snore sounding from Murdoc's open mouth as he turned away. "Great―fanks Muds."
2-D had no idea where anything in this place was, let alone a good spot to sleep. He perked up a bit as he scratched his scalp in thought, unsure if the one that currently settled was a smart idea.
"I wonder where Muds sleeps."
This chapter was a lot shorter than I thought. Next ones will definitely be longer, and I possibly am posting two chapters in tandem. We'll see how I feel.
Let me know what you think, it's greatly appreciated. This is probably the smuttiest scene I have yet to post in a fanfic, even if it's just a masturbation scene. Any comments, critic or anything else you can throw me would be wonderful. Hope you're enjoying so far!
