Disclaimer: Characters not mine; Albarn and Hewlett's. Idea, however, totally mine (I doubt they'd want to claim it).
Rating: NC-17 for angst and Murdoc/2-D slashiness.
Notes: Oh Em Gee, buttsecks. Yes, finally, we arrive at what y'all started reading this damned fic for. I am truly pitiful at the writing of smut. Remind me to beg the amazingly impeccable Sandra for help.
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'Don't, mate… this isn't the way,' Murdoc told himself, releasing the singer's shirt to bury his knobby fingers in 2-D's hair, holding the other man's mouth to his. But Murdoc wasn't much interested in listening to his brain when his body was being so persuasive.
2-D, on the other hand, was thinking only, 'Yes' in a kind of hopelessness, allowing Murdoc to hold him in place.
2-D was balanced on his knees, one hand pinned under Murdoc's on the floor in a puddle of Captain Morgan, and the other digging into the carpet as it slowly dawned on him that he was kissing Murdoc, was allowing Murdoc to kiss him.
'I fink somethin's wrong wiff this situation,' 2-D thought, then Murdoc was releasing 2-D's mouth.
2-D sat back slowly as Murdoc lifted his hand off of the singer's. The bottle of Captain Morgan was once again spilled as 2-D's hand knocked into it, but neither man paid it any attention.
Though drunk, 2-D was by no means so drunk that he would do something he would not normally want to do, and looking at Murdoc, the white bandages standing out starkly on his dark skin, 2-D wanted to let Murdoc do anything to him that the older man deemed necessary.
'Wotever 'e does, I deserve it,' 2-D thought. Some small part of his mind added distantly, 'Wotever 'e does, I'll love it.'
"I, uh…" Murdoc's voice trailed off. He was torn between demanding sex from the singer and stopping the situation before it went somewhere that they might both look back on with embarrassment.
2-D, in a rare moment of clarity, assessed the situation and decided that for a moment, he would take control. With surprisingly steady hands, he reached out and caressed the bulge in Murdoc's jeans, fingers going to the button of the fly, releasing it.
Murdoc's protestations were cut off with the flick of 2-D's fingers against his fly. He gritted his teeth, planting his hands firmly on the floor on either side of his hips, lifting himself to meet 2-D's touch.
With the touch of 2-D's fingers to his bare flesh, Murdoc knew that even if the singer were to demure and change his mind, there would be no going back. Murdoc had thought he'd emptied himself into the hooker; now, he found there was more than enough in his reserves for a fourth round.
2-D was so engrossed in the heat and hardness in his hand that he didn't notice one of Murdoc's hands coming up until it connected glancingly with his face. It traveled up, grabbing hold of 2-D's hair, pulling the singer forward into another rough kiss.
Murdoc's teeth grazed 2-D's lip gently, and then bit down, nearly drawing blood. 2-D, who had never really enjoyed pain before, suddenly found himself moaning with pleasure as Murdoc's teeth dug into his lip.
"Murdoc," 2-D said, suddenly wondering if he should at least try to protest, "are y'sure we should –"
"Yes."
"But, maybe we should stop an' – "
"We're not gonna."
"Murdoc, don' y'think –"
"Shut up, Tusspot."
2-D shut up.
Clothes fell off with no magic or artistry – Murdoc was blind and in no position to undress 2-D gently; besides, he wouldn't have done it gently even if he'd possessed his sight. And 2-D, though familiar with the art of undressing a woman, was a little confused at dealing with a partner who wanted to dominate him.
Murdoc clenched 2-D's thin arms with his strong hand, digging his teeth into 2-D's neck, drawing blood this time. 2-D found himself clutching Murdoc's bare shoulders, bruised eyes narrowed as he stared at the scorched spot on his wall where his jukebox had stood before.
'If it hadn't exploded,' 2-D thought dimly, Murdoc's roughed palm sliding down the blue-haired man's arm to grasp the singer's erection in a hard grip, 'this wouldn't be 'appenin'.'
2-D found himself suddenly very glad for shoddy workmanship in the making of jukeboxes.
Not inexperienced in anal sex – though usually the giver rather than the receiver – 2-D groped for the lube in the drawers next to his bed. It was a hard reach from the floor, but 2-D located the tube after a few hopeful lunges and grabs.
2-D realized almost immediately that allowing Murdoc to take him while 2-D rested on his hands and knees probably wouldn't work. Murdoc lacked the necessary sight to guide himself into the singer without a lot of embarrassing, mood-deflating fumbling.
Laying on his back, ankles on Murdoc's shoulders, 2-D helped to guide the bassist slowly in.
Even with lube, 2-D cried out.
Murdoc's shout mingled with the singer's. No virgin, no matter how young or how strongly she professed to be 'innocent,' had ever felt this good.
Murdoc's dirty nails dug into 2-D's hips and sides, drawing red welts then bloody furrows as Murdoc thrust.
2-D grasped the tan throw rug beneath him, clenching it in his fists. Pain delivered by Murdoc was not something new to 2-D, but he'd never been in this much pain before. 2-D squeezed his eyes shut, his gapped teeth clenching on his lower lip, tears hanging warm in his lashes.
Screaming, excruciating pain was throbbing in 2-D's lower half as Murdoc held still, letting the singer adjust to the sudden invasion. After a moment, Murdoc made a strangled sound of need and thrust forward gently, finding his rhythm. Slowly, inexorably 2-D's pain began to be overwhelmed with pleasure.
2-D had heard the hundreds of girls he'd taken to bed howl beneath him in ecstasy when they had been in his position, but he'd always thought they must be faking for his benefit – what was so exciting about something in your arse? Now, however, he knew that they had meant every gasping cry.
Distantly, 2-D heard someone howling in ecstasy just like so many lays in his past, only to realize it was him. Murdoc's skin was hot and slick against 2-D's, his breath redolent of alcohol and old cigarettes, a smell 2-D found suddenly and inexplicably arousing. Each dig of Murdoc's nails, each panting exhale, and each deep thrust pushed 2-D a little close to the edge.
He was holding on with everything he had, realizing that Murdoc would almost certainly come to his senses afterwards. After all, what was the more likely scenario: Murdoc wanting 2-D as a lover or Murdoc using 2-D once then realizing he'd made a grave mistake and treating 2-D even worse than he'd done before?
2-D cried out, eyes squeezed shut as Murdoc thrust deeply into the thing singer. 2-D's entire body was taught with trying to hold back his approaching climax. He was so close, but he had to – he couldn't... wouldn't...
"Do it, Tusspot," Murdoc ground out, voice even more gravelly than normal. "Do it."
2-D needed no more urging, crying out loudly.
The warmth of Murdoc's climax washed through 2-D as the bassist grunted once, his only verbal indication of his own peak, and the two went limp, listening to their laboured breathing and the distant blare of an alarm in the carpark.