Chapter Text
The lights are low. The dusk turns to night. A single source of amber light. Glowing. Warm. Alluring- It washes over the room, the walls, the ceiling, and the two people in it.
You sit up leisurely, reclining in the bed of Murdoc Niccals. It has become a common sight by now. Some song or another plays quietly in the background. It's soft and romantic, just like you- but you can't make out the lyrics. That's alright though, the feelings stirring around inside you, right here, with him... They are music enough. You wrap your silken robe a little tighter around your body. It's a gift of luxury bestowed upon you as only one of many such grand gestures, by the man here with you.
Your bare legs sprawl out gracefully amongst the even, pressed down sheets. Murdoc's heavy head rests on your thigh, his thick, warm body snugly lain between your legs. His callused hand cups just below your knee, his muscular arm wedged under the joint, propping it like a pillow. Your fingers swirl lazily, around and around the crown of his skull as you pet his hair. The clumps are soft, almost fluffy, against your smooth skin. Like petting a long haired cat, or angora fur- You twist and massage little pieces of it between your fingers. Each time you do it in just that one certain way, he purrs a little harder.
Murdoc nuzzles his approval against the velvety flesh of your inner thigh. Quietly, you draw your opposing leg up, bending at the knee. Your skin rubs against his broad, naked back. It caresses him in a way, the little strands of fuzz covering his back kissing you in turn. You sigh and let yourself relax against the headboard. Your knee rests against the small of his back, the shadow of his square, dense waist, warm and supportive against your bare skin.
You rub his scalp a while yet, even as he shifts his head around beneath your touch. Murdoc appears hardly a second from sleep, and indeed, perhaps he is. His eyes, normally so large and hollow and piercing- seem small and gentle, half lidded as they are. He sighs and blinks slowly, looking up at you, exuding adoration. Even as much as he'd like to fall asleep right now, he thinks truly he couldn't.
And miss a moment like this? He wouldn't dare. Not when he can dedicate his time to soaking this up. To absorbing your affection. The touch of your hand. The smell of your skin. The feeling of your body. He wouldn't miss this for anything- Not even for sleep.
His idolatry for you runs too deep.
To think, he's only had you for a handful of months by now- and already, he's so tightly wound around your finger. It would almost scare him, how quickly he fell, if it weren't for the fact this is just what he wanted.
Finally- Finally finally finally! Someone he can fall back on. Someone who can pick him back up. Someone who, for the first time in over fifty years of living- supports the good, both in and for him. The things he didn't even know were there. It's all been going so well with recovery... Do you know, he doesn't even think about all the drugs and drinking anymore? Not so much about taking them, but more about forgetting those times ever were. That is his great accomplishment as of late.
And why would he want to think on any of that anyway? His world has been completely replaced. Radicalized and renovated- He's come so far from all that time ago. From the shitty, self destructive void of being a rock star, to something far more fulfilling. More stable. More enjoyable.
Murdoc sighs tiredly, smiling like he's lost in a daydream even still, before he finally takes his gaze off of you. At last, he turns his head to the side, laying it down. A new song comes on, much in the same genre as the last two. You look out towards the window- The world is so still. So quiet. The light of a few cars pass by through the window, contending with the atmosphere of the lamp beside you. If not for them, however, the world would be quite dark indeed.
As you contemplate these things, Murdoc's purring softens almost without you noticing as he, at long last, falls asleep. You don't spare him a glance, instead continuing to look out into the barely lit night.
Good. You're glad he's finally asleep, maybe you can go one day without him-
Perhaps not quite as asleep as you thought, Murdoc ensures to do the one thing you've come to hate. That very thing you were just thinking of, as a matter of fact- His mouth slits open, corner to corner, making way for his tongue to lick your flesh in his bizarre, affectionate way.
His tongue is inordinately long and thin, like a frog or a toad. It's smooth in the practical sense, just like any human's, and yet just rough enough that you can feel the grit of his taste buds. It's warm, but that's perhaps the only "comforting" aspect about it. Otherwise, it's sopping wet with a rather filmy type of saliva, and at the end of the day, you don't particularly enjoy the bizarre and sudden feeling it always seems to bring when touching you.
You flinch all at once, jolting his head as you convulse your thigh.
Murdoc groans inquisitively, another one of his strange, unsettling sounds. Other then that, he doesn't seem to pay you much mind. He lays his head back down, cheek against the trail of slobber, and says nothing. Hardly even turns to look at you. Instead, he nuzzles you again, squirms a moment to get comfortable, and is out like a light.
With pent up frustration, you do your best to hold in a sigh. It almost even works. You turn your attention back to the room. The light, the music, even the decadent robe you so enjoy- Suddenly the atmosphere feels ruined. Struggling only slightly, you manage to reach over and turn off whatever song it is that's playing now. Over just a bit further on and still taking care not to wake him, you turn out the lap as well.
All around, the room falls dark. You sigh, and slump down as much as Murdoc's shoulders will let you. He's snoring quietly now, still nestled between your legs, happy and at peace. You can hardly see him in the darkness, but you cock your head at an angle to better regard his shadowy form, and sigh once more. God, he's so, so happy... You admit, it would be impossible for you to say what he was like before the two of you met- Sure, you'd seen him in that one area, the gym, but you'd never made any notable interactions.
Or, at least none that let you get to know him in a more meaningful way. A way that could've tipped you off to... this.
That only leaves you with what he tells you- And fuck, just about all of it sounds downright miserable. Unimaginable loneliness. Zero sources of support. It sounds so difficult... You couldn't imagine living like that.
You believe what he's told you, if for no other reason then that his band mates seem even more bewildered at his behavior then you are at theirs. Although you'd never admit it, you quite think Murdoc intentionally keeps you away from the other three... but regardless of the truth, it certainly hasn't stopped the few run ins you have had.
They're... Alright. Tolerable at best, you think you'd say. But sometimes? They have just a way to make your skin crawl. You shiver, the ghost of hypocrisy passing over you as you stroke Murdoc's hair. As you said, you never talked with them for long, your big, strapping man down here always made sure of that- But what little time you did have, they almost always seemed to prioritize some comment addressing Murdoc's mood now that he's found himself in this relationship.
Sometimes just about how he is or was or can be, in general, but always as the go to talking piece- Like it was important. Like they needed you to give them answers. Or maybe... Like they needed to warn you.
"Ah ain' eva seen 'im so calm like thif', yew know... 'Ow do ye-?"
That was just abut all you got before the gangly young man was interrupted by your one and only. You remember it clear as day- It was almost like seeing a different person in Murdoc's warm, familiar body. It was one of the first times you got to see that little glimpse of maybe, possibly what he used to be like.
It scared you.
Over time, you've come to note that, amidst his internal soundboard of... unique noises, they are split into two categories: The sounds he makes to make himself more acceptable to human ears, and the sounds you can only assume come natural to him. The real him.
The former are like a dog. Still strange to be coming from something so distinctly not a dog- but rather mundane and subdued nonetheless. They are almost friendly in comparison, quiet and unassuming... Almost like a regular person could make some such sounds too, if they really really tried.
The latter are... something else entirely. Like a savage, wild animal. Like something that lives in the heart of the wilderness. Something that stalks you in the night. Something vicious. Terrible. Carnivorous.
And the way he snapped at this "2D", as you later came to know him, smacked of the latter. The explosive growl, almost even a roar you'd say, had your heart itself stand stone still in fear. Murdoc marched right up, wedging his intimidating self directly between the two of you- Strange, you thought, it's not even like the other man was all that close to you to start.
2D instinctively recoiled, that you remember clearly, and backed up in what seemed to be an alarmingly rather genuine sense of fear.
You brushed that aside at the time. After all, you had been frightened by the sound too. Besides, Murdoc made no efforts to advance- instead holding the line mere inches in front of you. He pointed rather aggressively off into the distance, accompanied by an equally aggressive order to, to put it politely, "fuck off".
And when you were alone again, he eased himself back down in severity to using his dog noises again before carrying on with his day with you.
This all happened when your relationship was still fairly new. He wasn't so secure yet, which you understood- In fact, it was only once he was that you started hearing those... Other noises again.
He'd make them voluntarily- these terrifying groans, and sometimes growls. Almost like a cats meow, except so intensely slowed and pitched that they have become far too deep to possibly be associated with the sounds of the domesticated animal.
He does it, because he was starting to trust you. He does it, because he really, fully convinced himself that he liked you. He does it, because he feels comfortable to be himself around you. His real self- Whatever that is, exactly. Which, on that note, brings up something else entirely. You've tried to breach just that very topic with him before, you know. Very gently, of course- But it would seem, either he himself doesn't rightly know what he is, or he simply flat out refuses to tell you.
And if you're honest... Neither of those options exactly put you at ease.
But, like you said- that all is something else entirely and it's the noises that were the real start for you. Lately, he's taken up things like sniffing and licking you, for Christ's sake- All meant as signs of affection in his mind, that is without doubt, and yet... God, it makes your skin crawl most times.
His little puppy style kisses can even feel sweet, or at least cute, on occasion- and at first, they were. But that was back when they were so short and so light, you could hardly catch them when he mustered up the courage to do it. Now they are long. And wet. And slimy and too warm and a little sticky and, dare you say, it makes you feel like you're being tasted a hell of a lot more then anything even remotely like "kissed".
God damn you for saying it, but... you've nearly even come to hate it.
You were willing to look past his appearance, despite how absolutely bizarre, and yes- how absolutely frightening, it is. You were willing to look past the noises too, back when it was just the little sounds. You told yourself they were charming- That all these things were just interesting little details. Nothing wrong. Nothing to worry about. But now? Now, you don't know how long you can keep lying to yourself.
Sometimes... He feels more animal then person.
But you don't dare say that aloud. Fuck, you feel like shit for even just thinking it... But regardless, it's the truth.
You sniff, and swipe aggressively at your eye. What a shitty, selfish thing to cry over- You don't dare say it, because you know he's ashamed to be this way. And you only even know that, because you know him well enough to know that he never does any of these things in public.
Only for you- The licking and the sniffing and nuzzling and the demonic groans, like a monster from hell... All these things because he loves you. Because he trusts you- Trusts you enough to show you his innermost self.
And really, what right do you have to deny him his nature? To tell him he's wrong for acting like... whatever he is. Does he reject you for showing your secrete, private sides? You inner personality, the one that only sees the light of day around family and a few, select friends? No. No, he doesn't. And that's the difference between you both- The one that matters, in your eyes.
One tear, then two, stream slowly down your face and you continue to pet Murdoc's hair.
These thoughts make you feel like shit. But... are you so wrong for wanting a few boundaries? He doesn't have to abandon who, or what, he is completely... You just wi-
No sooner do you dry a tear trail from you cheek, then are your thoughts interrupted by that oh so familiar snort. Murdoc blinks awake, slowly at first, then makes that audible snuffling sound, as though only half a nostril is actually functioning and in use. He sits up tepidly, turning just enough to regard you. There is no need to ask if you're crying because he already knows-
He can smell it.
"Dove? What's wrong-", he mumbles, very much still half asleep.
Fuck- You finish drying your tears quickly, "Shh... It's nothing, go back to sleep"
With a little grunt of effort, Murdoc flips his hips over your leg, landing right beside you with a graceless flop before sliding up to sit with you, "Don't 'nothing' me- I'm already awake, might as well tell me", he pushes a little gruffly, and you're suddenly not sure whether he truly doesn't mind being awoken or not.
You wave him off, "Just stressed- Work stuff, you know", you lie.
Murdoc rests his head on your shoulder and yawns. You can feel his eyes closing already, leaving you grateful to see he's still far too exhausted to truly have a conversation right now, "Sorry to hear that-", He yawns again, mouth opening far wider then normal, then follows it up with that horrible groaning noise as he nudges his nose against your cheek. Then, for seemingly no reason... He brings up that same, damn "suggestion" again, "You know, if things work out here, you'll never have to work another day at that shitty place- Promise", he purrs, spouting off something or another in what he believes is an honest effort to cheer you up.
This time, there's no lick, instead he continues to lay his cheek against yours for just a moment more. When he's eventually had enough of comforting you, he slides back down and flops his head to the pillow.
With a little fidgeting, he gets himself comfortable on his side, always facing you, "You could quit right now if you wanted- wouldn't that be nice? Think of all the time you'd have for me, ahaw", he follows the remark with that simultaneously wheezing and choking laughter of his before settling back down again. While you sort of appreciate the offer, you're not entirely sure he why he keeps pushing the subject lately.
But one thing's for sure- you sure as fuck wish he'd stop.
You sniff once more, only to finish calming yourself, and turn to look over at him. Despite your discrepancies, there are certainly at least a few good things to come out of having gained his trust- It took some time, but after a while, Murdoc has refamiliarized himself with sleeping shirtless. Fair enough, you suppose. He radiates heat like an oven, after all- You can't imagine he'd be all to comfortable any other way.
Besides, you're certainly not complaining.
Perhaps once there was a time when he'd be against any form of public affection- but the longer you've been together, the harder it is for him to tolerate even a moment without touch. If you were to just simply link your pinky to his, that's all he wants. In private, he's even worse, you laugh. The more you can touch, pet, or hold him and his body, the better. The longer, the better. The closer, the better. Most days he can be subtle about requesting your affections, but don't you worry- He'll whine and beg for it if he has to.
Maybe tonight, however, you can avoid just such tactics of his.
Murdoc remains quiet, as though he's expecting to fall back asleep any moment. Instead, he not so subtly wriggles himself closer to you from his spot on the bed, hip over shoulder. He clears his throat quietly, and plays it cool- You roll your eyes and are grateful he can't see you smiling. He's much too spoiled, but... You indulge him anyway.
Without much hesitation, you give him what he wants and drop an open hand along his waist. Just add a little bit of nails to the deal, and... there you go.
You slide your hand up and down, from ribs to hip along the side of his belly, just the way he likes it. His skin is just tough enough that your nails feel good scratching against it rather then hurting- Although even if they did, you wonder if he still wouldn't say anything about it.
In all honesty, you don't remember which of the two of you started this ritual of affection, but after some adjustment, you've come to enjoy it a little bit yourself. It's comforting, not just to be able to touch him in an innocent, loving way- but to simply be able to feel and study the shape of his body too. You've seen what he looked like before. Way way before... back when he was on little more then a steady diet of drugs, smokes, and booze.
You would never have guessed a frame like that would lend itself as the starting point for such a well built man. He's dense, and solid, and warm, with a comforting weight to him like a bag of sand. And wouldn't you know it- but every time you touch his body, it never ceases to amaze you just how much muscle you can feel under there. Rather impressive, you must say...
Murdoc sighs happily and butts his head to your hip, "awh, you're too good to me love"
"Tsh, you make it sound like there won't be consequences if I don't", you laugh. Before he can ask what you mean by that, you pout your lips and tilt your head this way and that, mocking that dog like whining noise he makes when he doesn't get the affection he's after.
Murdoc responds with a harsh scoff of his own, interrupting your fun, "I don't sound like that", he complains, faking his hurt for just a second, right before grinning sinisterly, "It's more like this-". Far louder then he usually does it, that awful, piercing whine echoes off the walls in the mostly empty bedroom. It's shrill and agitating, and after hearing it at this volume, suddenly you reconsider your previous label of "dog like".
Truly no mere dog could make a noise this hellish.
Before he wakes the whole studio with such... questionable noises, you playfully lunge to shush him. As though he's finally received just what he wanted, the second your body lands on his, he goes silent. Murdoc shakes his head free from under your hands, sliding up just a little on the mattress to hold you better, "See? I knew you'd see things my way, ahaw", he licks your cheek and nuzzles the spot with his nose, growling happily.
You say nothing, aside from perhaps a sigh and noncommittal eye roll. There's no need to wipe your cheek dry at least- he has already accomplished that himself. Instead, you lay yourself in a more comfortable position on his body. Somewhere along the way, he switches from growling to purring again- although, there is admittedly little difference between those sounds to begin with.
There's a nice spot, just below his collar bone, that holds your cheek well. If you tilt your chin up a tad- your temple will find the cushiony meat of his shoulder to lie on instead of the bones of his clavicle. It's hard to see in the dark of the room, but you don't need your eyes to find what you're looking for- Your fingers do the work for you. Back and forth along the outer curve of his pectoral, your thumb easily finds the furrowed, familiar stretch marks embedded in his skin.
They are long and more numerous then he would like, spread throughout his body. Most of them have long since begun to fade, but a very few new ones pop up here and there. It took a bit of time to let him get this comfortable with you- Wasn't too long ago that he wouldn't let you touch sensitive spots like that at all. Murdoc turns his head just so, to nuzzle your hair and leave a kiss.
Suffice to say, however, he warmed up to it quick.
If you asked, he'd tell you he just likes when you feel up his muscles like that. And that is true too, but what he won't tell you is that just about any touch from you is a good one in his book. Any little stroke, or caress- Any pet, or pat- He craves it. Adores it.
Needs it.
He has pledged himself to striving for your affections. It is his master, the newest in a long, long line. Just as it excites him, it too has the incredible power to soothe him. These, right here, are the moments he holds onto. The ones that live in his head, playing back over and over again... He can feel his skin wrinkle and bunch, the lost elasticity of it- A sign of age. A sign of change. But it does not bother him- It does not disgust or repulse... Not like how it used to.
It is different, because now it is you, not him. Strange how different his body can feel to him, when it's your hands along his skin, instead of his own. It's not the same. Never, just quite the same... He's tried it all: Finger tips along his arm. Side of the thumb along his chest. Open palm along his stomach. Lightly curled knuckles up and down his cheek. It never delivers the same pleasure. The same excitement. The same comfort.
Murdoc snorts and shivers, before inching closer where there is no room. Space is something he values more then most anything- He'd come close enough for a shag, sure. But close enough to hold someone? Close enough, just to lay there, body to body? You are one of the first such people to earn this privilege.
The one where no amount of closeness ever feels enough. The one where nothing short of you being a part of his person feels like it could ever satisfy him.
Murdoc hugs you tight- perhaps a little too tight. A huff of forced out air escapes you, but he thankfully relents after just a moment longer. He can only keep up purring for so long while falling asleep, and it would seem he has reached just such a point. With one more sigh, he relaxes his body all the more, although never the hold he has on you. You pat his thick, solid ribs with a few muffled thumps and one more pet, for good measure.
But while he sleeps, you find your thoughts keep you up. One last, annoying, worrying thought-
There's something about those muscle, you know... Something odd. Before all this he was so small and frail- the very ghost of the "nursed to health" poster boy he looks like now. And that was only a paltry three years ago. You can say for near fact that he didn't start working out like he does now until just under that time frame, and yet the progress he's shown... Well, he may not be quite lean muscle- It accounts for the stretch marks, after all.
But nothing about him explains just how he's managed it.
He swears up and down and east to west that he's not on steroids. Not now, never has been. God, you don't think you'll ever forget the hurt on his face when you even implied otherwise. Even as a joke. You believed him, but... It left you only more confused. At his age? With his lack of training? He walked into that weights section knowing not a damn thing, after all. You still have nightmares about what his form used to be like, as a matter of fact.
The bottom line though is simple; To go from how he was then, not that long ago even... to how he is now? Impossible. Simply put.
You move your hand from his chest to his bicep. Your palm rests there lightly, the circumference of near pure muscle filling the divot of your hand. If you tried to wrap your hand, from thumb to middle finger, around it- You'd be lucky if you could reach the two halfway.
Impressive... But impossible. He does look good- Great, and handsome even... But impossible.
Most men work for years to achieve what he's accomplished in only two. Young men, at that. You stroke your fingers back and forth along the limb, feeling the swell and dips as you go. This question of "How" is a recent one. At first, you admit, you didn't bother to ask. But now... Now, it glares at you. The issue feels pressing. Unnatural.
You glance up in the darkness, his pointed ear pressing against your forehead and one, lone fang highlighted faintly in the moonlight as it pokes out from his green lip.
And you're suddenly reminded that that assumption isn't all too far off.
You turn your head back down. Don't look. Don't think about it. You take you hand off his arm. Don't touch. Don't think about it.
Because if you do... You'll start wondering. Start wondering, what could he do with all this inhuman strength, if he really wanted to. You saw how he can be with his own damn band mate-
You'll start wondering, why has he stopped doing more and more weight when he works out? Is it because, one day, the maximum would become too light to him? Is it because, he doesn't want to appear all the more a freak as he feels himself to be, easily handling that kind of weight, if he got to that point?
You roll onto your back, removing yourself from his person completely. His snoring tells you he's deep enough asleep by now that you will not be missed. And you lay there. And you listen to him snore, that deep, heavy, unnatural sound, as it rattles out of his thick, heavy, unnatural body. And you think. And you wonder. And you worry...
Just what exactly have you committed yourself to.