Actions

Work Header

Bonding through Bruises

Summary:

When Murdoc kidnaps poor 2-D, for what seems like the umpteenth time, things seem a little out of place. This certainly isn't like it was before, and 2-D is not entirely sure it's worth putting up with the wicked Demon bassist. What choice does he have? With a satanist, some stolen money, and a bag of what Murdoc likes to call "medicine" 2-D will begin to see the lengths of Murdoc's little obsession.
____________________________________________________________________

Russ and Noodle know for a fact this is not a ploy to get the band back together, but when they can't make authorities see that they decide to take matters into their own hands.

Notes:

The other chapters are longer. This one is simply the prologue. This was a work I started a while back on Fanfiction, thought I would move it to AO3. Since I decided to pick it up again I thought people here may enjoy it as well. With that said, I hope you all enjoy. Leave comments and such, I thoroughly enjoy them so don't be shy.

I have also gifted this to the lovely DaveKat; Thank you for convincing me to post this here. I do hope people will enjoy it as thoroughly as you have been.

Chapter 1: Prologue: More than you can chew

Chapter Text

He didn't know how many times the band had broken up now. How many times had Murdoc talked him into coming back? (Or in more desperate instances, kidnapped him.) He did know this however, this was one of those desperate times. He lay on the bed, sheets and pillows all a mess. The bedspread was strewn half way off the bed and onto the floor. Feathers from one of the down pillows kissed the mattress and floor, like Murdoc's fists left kisses of purple and black on his skin. His body itself was adorned in bite marks and bruises. The lace of the outfit was a drying white liquid that stained his stomach. Some of his own reproductive fluids to remind him that no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he fought it, his body still responded with a type of masochistic delight.

He grabbed the torn pillow, the one he very clearly remembered sinking his teeth into. His thrashing had been enough to rip a decent sized hole in it. His eyes shown the death of soul, empty, even emptier than they already were to begin with. Rolling onto his side he pulled the pillow to his face and curled into a ball. Holding the pillow in place with his knees, his hands raised and grabbed hold of his blue locks and pulled as hard as he could, screaming

into the remains of the pillow. This was his point of no return. THIS was all there was. He and Muds like he'd always wanted. But why, oh god why, did it have to be like this?