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

Chapter 12

(2D’s POV)

Warm. I woke up and it was so warm, and comforting, and I didn't want to move.

But I had to pee.

Squinting into the darkness, I noticed I was in Murdoc's room. Weird, when did that happen. Why the hell am I in here?

Okay, bathroom. It's across the room, I just gotta stand up and- okay, standing hurts. Fuck.

I finally managed to roll myself out of bed enough to make it to the floor, then knees and legs. Stumbling to the door, I opened it to find Murdoc with his head in the sink, his whole face completely submerged in water.

A gasp of air brought him back to reality, and he instantly noticed my presence.

“What!” He yelled toward me. Probably surprised I had been awake. He slicked back his soaked hair, and looked expectantly at me.

“I gotta use ya lue.”

He said nothing, pushing past me and closing the door. I could hear him shuffling around on the other side, moving things and closing drawers. It was odd hearing everything so quiet. Even in the basement there was a small sickening hum of generators, but now… there was nothing. Silence. Just him moving in the other side.

I was quick with what I did, and I tried to leave as quickly as I could. But I was not prepared for what I had to see when I opened the door.

Murdoc sat on the bed, facing me as I open the door. He sat manspread and hands on his knees.

“Get on the bed.”

The calmness of his voice scared me more than anything. Calm and cold and serious. I looked over to the door. Only seven feet, maybe. Could I make that? I mean... It would only take a second…

“It's locked. Come here.” He looked up at me expectantly. Mentally, I froze. My feet moved on instinct and stepped towards him, and once I was close enough he pulled me to him.

One movement lead to the next, and I found myself on my back, pressed against the sheets. Murdoc had his hands on my thighs and his mouth against my neck. His body on top of mine and in between my legs. I froze while my hands held onto the bedding while my arms shook too much to do anything else. He was being too gentle, it was unnerving! My whole body was shaking in anticipation,for the biting and scratching and bruising that normally came, but it never really did. There were soft nibbles here and there, sure. And even when I felt his grip on my legs, I never felt his nails. His grip turned into groping, my thighs, hips, arse… terrified at how gentle he was being.

His hips ground into mine, but it wasn't hard like it normally would be. It was lazy yet calculate. Like when he was drunk. Gentle and slow, but Mudz didn't even smile like it. He didn't act like it either. I still knew that if I made one wrong move, he'd snap, so I'm just going to lay here and not do anything. Just like any other time this happened. Except this time I'd have to look at him, watch him… do this to me.

Why?

His hands rode up my shirt, pulling it off of me. I had to raise my arms to do so, not that I really had a choice, so now they gripped the pillow above my head while he flung the shirt out of reach.

My neck was a rainbow of colors and bruises already, and now it was more red than anything. I felt his hands move to mine, and my wrists were now pinned. It's not like I was really gonna move them, but I think it gave him some kind of power. The power of knowing I couldn't do anything, that he had total control.

The other hand went to my chin. He turned my head so it wasn't buried into my arm.

“Open your eyes.”

He wasn't asking, it was definitely a command, but I shook my head anyways. I didn't want to watch this.

“Stu…” the hand that was on my stomach made its way to my neck. There was a slight press against my windpipe as a warning. “I swear to god… look at me.”

His voice was lower, darker. The longer I kept my eyes closed, the tighter his grip got. I squinted up at him, showing that I was looking, wanting him to stop. His grip loosened, but he kept his hand on my neck.

All I could do was stare up at him, trying to read the static expression on his face.

The things that scared me here were odd. I'm not scared when I know he's gonna hurt me, no. I'm scared when I don't know what he's thinking. When I don't know if the next move he makes is going to burn with pain or passion.

His head lowered to mine. His lips to my ear. “I want you to look at me… don't close your eyes… and don't turn away…” and then his voice was soft again. Almost a whisper. His eyes met mine, letting both his hands land on each side of my hips.

My wrists felt bruised… well, even more bruised.

I did as he said, I kept my eyes in his, on him. He bit at my hips-- sharp bone against sharper teeth-- and fiddled with my jean buttons. Every now and then he'd glance up. Our eyes would lock before he would go back to his unwanted task.

My jeans and boxers were pulled down to my thighs, and I gasped as my semi hit the air. I didn't want to be hard, but with all the touching, and the heat, it was just a natural response at this point. I should be numb to this by now, but I couldn't help it.

My throat tightened when I felt his lips around my head. The rest of me was soon engulfed into the tight heat of his mouth, he was careful with his teeth at least. Not sure how thankful I should be for that.

He didn't spend much time like that, just enough to get me hard. God, was I hard…

He moved to pull my trousers off all of the way, throwing them carelessly across the room, before crawling back between my legs. I still kept my arms above my head, to afraid to move them without permission, scared that he'd snap, or maybe choke me again. He took a second to get rid of his own pants as well.

Arms traced up my sides, and his legs nudged my thighs apart. My body further stiffened when he took my legs, wrapping them around his waist. I couldn't do anything except stare at his chest. He told me to watch him, thankfully he didn't say where. I don't think I'd be able to look him in the eye, or even at his face. I'm so used to just spacing out and taking it, but that's so hard to do when you're told to pay attention.   

A hand went back to my wrists, holding them down to the mattress, harder than before. The other hand went to my chin, holding my face in place, and focusing my eyes in his.

“I said look at me…”