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Still Friends

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Murdoc and vulnerable are two words that never ended up in one sentence. You knew this, and you admired Murdoc for it.

Actually, you admired Murdoc for a lot of things, not necessarily good things but they made him who he is. Reckless, dangerous, tough and hardcore are just a few words you can use to describe the Satanist, he does not show his weakness and always get what he wants in the end of the day.

That is Murdoc Niccals, and you like him as an idol, a mentor, a friend.

But when the booze hits him, just the right brand, the right amount, he is a completely different person.

He is vulnerable.

On most nights when you two have sex he always insist you to do him from behind, he said he prefer the position, but you know it was because he did not want you to look at him in the eyes when he was withering and moaning because of your dick. You liked it, seeing him unraveled underneath you, but still stubborn enough to act as if he can live through the next day without you hitting his deepest spot and make him shivered in orgasmic release.

There were shitty days for him, days that he will dragged you to the pub with him, looking at him silently drowning himself, glass after glass of whatever they have on the top shelf, and after that you will lead him, initially back to his apartment or your apartment, but anticipation is a bitch and you usually ended up in a shitty hotel room, naked and horny.

On rare nights like that he just go with whatever you have for him, and it was always missionary sex, short and sweet, at least for him.

Tonight was one of those nights.

He clawed onto your back, moaning into the crook of your shoulder as you enter him, slowly spreading his tight entrance. His legs wrapped around your waist begging for you to just ram him into the cheap mattress of this small hotel room. You licked the lobe of his ear and he let out a long whimper, heat radiating from his body was intoxicating and you loved it.

You started to move, slowly at first then picking up the pace gradually, teasing is no fun when he was not in the mood or in the mind to snap back at you, on nights like these sex and orgasm are the only thing that mattered.

Sex was all that matters, that was the only thing your relationship with him revolves around.

“Ace!” he let out a sharp yelp when you changed the angle, hitting his sweet spot and making his cock twitched between sweaty and slicked bodies. You pulled yourself from his embrace to admire him, his chest littered with bite marks and hickeys, his hazy mismatched eyes looking up at you, full of lust and pleading for more. His face and neck were flustered red, you were uncertain if it was because of the rum or the pleasure you were giving to him, thrust after thrust.

Whatever it was, you were hoping that it was because of something else that was impossible.

You held his wrists and pinned them above his head, picking up the pace, harder and faster, making him shivered with over stimulation, you licked your lips, groaning at the tightness around your dick, you let out a shaky breath, taking in his rare submissive expression, lips parting, moaning your name like his dying words, eyes shut tight, yet tears were trailing from the corner of his eyes.

He looked so vulnerable.

“Ace…Ace-I, I’m gonna…”

You felt you cock twitched inside of him and you know you were not going to last long, you wondered if he was still sober enough to know how horny you get every time you hear your name rolling out from his tongue. He drove you mad and you love it.

You love it, you love it, you love him.

You felt something inside of you snapped, and you swore loudly as your whole body shuddered in release. In the heat you kissed him, long, wet and endearing, as he cried out your name desperately on to your lips, riding his orgasm on your cock as he came onto your skin, shivering in pleasure.

And then it was over.

It took less then minutes for you to get out of the hazy afterglow, you were the first to untangled, tossing away the used condom and cleaned both of you up. You got dressed quickly and headed to the door.

You hesitated for a second, though you have never did before.

Murdoc hated you staying in nights like this, maybe he knew if you did, he will hold on to you, and he will spilled all of his pain and endurance. Some part of you wanted him to, some part of you wanted more in these nights than just sex and the smell of cigarette smoke in your hair.

“We’re still friends right?”

His weak, raspy voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and it hurts, even though you did not know why.

Some part of you might have fallen for him.

“Yeah, still friends.”