The lights of the club were dimmed to the point of blindness as 2D walked in. He felt the vibrations of the music pumping through the floor, nearly faster than his heartbeat. Tonight was the first night he had dared to leave since the Murdoc Incident. He'd been too scared to try. But, tonight, he'd needed it.
As he walked through the dance floor toward the bar, he thought of the incidents that had brought him there that night. It didn't take much anymore, did it? Not even words, though they helped. Just… just the way he moved could send 2D running to his favorite haunts for a night of booze and alternate comfort. The way he played that damn bass… It wasn't fair. The only affection the man ever expressed was for an inanimate object.
His eyes scanned the bar, looking for someone of interest. At the end, two seats away from a couple of beautifully fake women, was a man, about six-two. He was taking a long swig of beer, the bottle shining in the pulsing light from the dance-floor. His choppy hair fell into his eyes, dark but probably dirty blonde in sunlight. Tight dark jeans and a black muscle shirt. A chain dangled around his throat…
… Hanging from it, an upside-down cross.
Feeling his stomach twist, he knew this was the one tonight. He strode over quickly, dropping into the seat next to him. The man didn't look up at first. 2D had known he wouldn't. He was glad he didn't. He'd have been disappointed if he'd been too eager.
He waved the bartender over. "Avalanche, heavy on the Kahlua." His voice was smooth; it caught the guy's attention. He looked over. Brown eyes. Almost catlike.
"On me." He slid over next to him, and 2D knew it couldn't be this easy.
He turned and blinked, making like he'd barely noticed him. "What ever for?"
"A bribe." The man said, leaning against the bar so much like Murdoc would, it nearly made him sick. He smirked; again, far too much like Murdoc. "Talk to me, gorgeous."
This time, it was 2D who smirked. "I'm not here to find someone to talk to."
Murdoc was becoming increasingly frustrated. He couldn't get comfortable, and tossing and turning on his mattress only seemed to make it worse. He clawed his nails into his pillow, unable to believe he wasn't asleep. He didn't know why…
No. That's a lie. He was dead sure of what was causing his insomnia.
He'd heard the footsteps again that night. Couldn't believe it, but he did. And peeking out the window, it was confirmed. 2D was headed for the exit. Dressed to kill, no less. Black and red button-down (first two open), tight distressed jeans with a black belt, combat boots, and a black collar. A Black Fucking Collar. With spikes. And chains. So kinky, it shouldn't have been worn with such a normal outfit. But it actually worked… very well.
He'd dropped the flag after taking in his entire appearance. The man had been on his mind since practice. His voice was sweet, hollow and desperate. So desperate… He'd almost stopped playing at one point, just to listen. He was slipping. Neglecting to hold back. Letting some, then all of himself slip through the song. And Murdoc watched, fascinated. Because now he knew, if that had been hidden before, something had slipped. He was struggling to hide it now.
He wasn't concerned; not really. Of course not. 2D was his own man, and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. But still… there was still something there…
All he could do was think. Resigning himself to the dreadful fate, his eyes bored holes into the ceiling. It wasn't at all fair. Someone who didn't even know he was tormenting him, no matter how obvious he was, had him by a string. Scary, yes. But he refused to let it bother him. He wouldn't dare let it show.
He checked his watch. One-Thirty in the morning. Just as he was sure he'd dreamed the sight, he heard the footsteps again. Two sets, actually. So, he'd picked up a girl along the way? Great. Wonderful. Good for him. He was sure they'd be just precious together. Whoever the fuck she was. 2D was the type to latch onto some princess and fall head over heels in a moment's notice. This one better not fuck him over.
Closing his eyes, half out of frustration, half out of exhaustion, he tried to get some sleep. Still, something wasn't right. And he had a feeling sleep would be escaping him for a while.
The door of his room shut and locked, 2D's lips again found the other man's with ease. His name was Kevin, and he was a pastry chef at a local bakery. Not that any of that mattered. Because pastry chef Kevin could kiss him to the point of breathlessness, and was now rubbing his body against him in the most erotic way a pastry chef could. The room remained dark; 2D never turned on the lights at times like this. It would ruin the illusion.
Kevin's hand was trailing up his shirt. He didn't mind, even if he did want this to move a little faster. His kisses were growing more insistent, and 2D didn't mind that either, as long as it kept going.
He pulled away to nearly tear off the other man's shirt. He didn't seem to mind, to busy with the button-down 2D was wearing. He helped, finally letting it slide off his shoulders and land on the floor behind him. He unbuttoned the jeans, pushing them to the floor. His own pants followed.
He pulled Kevin toward the bed, kissing him again and letting his fingers trail down the erection he felt growing inside his boxers. He felt Kevin moan into the kiss, pressing himself further against him.
He didn't like to think at times like this. There wasn't much he could think about without realizing how horrible it all was. So he needed to move this fast. Just to keep him from thinking. He needed this hot, heavy, and quick enough to forget. It wouldn't work any other way. For a moment, he wondered what Kevin was trying to forget, being with him tonight. He didn't know. But he had to grind his hardness against Kevin's own just to forget his thoughts again.
"Fuck…" Kevin breathed. "I forgot condoms…"
Looking around his room, 2D mentally cursed. He didn't see any. "I'll grab some. Be right back."
He slipped out of his room quietly and began looking through the studio for the ones Murdoc always left lying around. He muttered curses to himself until he reached the kitchen, then stopped cold. Noodle was awake, getting herself a glass of milk and some cookies.
"Noodle?" He asked, immediately cursing himself. She'd been worried that morning. He'd be there talking all night.
Finally giving in, Murdoc rolled out of bed and ran a hand through his hair. He had to find out what was wrong with the bastard. It was just killing him. He walked across the carpark toward the door of 2D's room. He didn't care who the girl was. He and the vocalist needed to have a little chat.
He pushed the door open, and stopped dead.
A blonde man in black boxers was pulling on a pair of jeans halfway across the room. His brown eyes slid over in Murdoc's direction, staring at him out of the corner of his eye for a moment, before pulling his jeans up the rest of the way.
"Tell Stuart I have an early start." And he breezed past him through the doorway, headed back through the carpark, toward the door. Stunned, Murdoc turned and headed back toward the Winnebago. Only when he reached his bed did he dare think.
Who the FUCK was That!
Thank you to all reviewers, to Mystery Reviewer for sticking me in his/her C2 ((ninja)), to all those who have hinted that they love it, and to DA Jersey Devil for teaching me how to spell bassist. ((sweatdrop)) Spelling is a weakness of mine. Therefore, I used guitarist.