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The front door clicks open and Murdoc practically throws himself out of Stu’s room. He races down the hall in a flurry of green, his tail whipping against the walls behind him. He’s sure he hears a picture frame fall, but he ignores it in favor of meeting Stu at the front of the house. Murdoc skitters around the corner, eyes widening with delight at the sight of his target.
“Murdoc-” Stu starts and abruptly cuts off when Murdoc launches himself at him.
He wraps his arms around Stu, pushing his lips against Stu’s roughly. “You left without saying goodbye.” Murdoc’s accusation sounds bitter, but the clicking in the back of his throat gives him away immediately. “The bed was so cold,” he huffs.
It would be polite to let Stu change out of his clothing into something more fitting for the house, but Murdoc couldn’t give less of a shit about human customs right now. He bites the bottom of Stu’s lip, pulling it between his teeth and blinking at Stu with want as he pushes one of his claws into the fabric of his shirt.
Stu whimpers, staring back at Murdoc with those abyssal black eyes. There’s a hint of desire that only Murdoc can read creeping into them and Murdoc takes that as a sign that Stu’s accepting this. He’s wearing a long-sleeved gray shirt with a purple sweater vest over it- one of Stu’s favorite outfits. Which makes it more fun to rip off of him.
“Sorry,” Stu mumbles when Murdoc pulls away from his mouth. There’s a cut where Murdoc’s canines dug into his lip, and it’s the first blood of the night to be drawn.
Pushing another claw into Stu’s shirt, Murdoc drags him closer just like that. The fabric tears easily, ever weak against the inhuman strength of a demon who has a grudge against clothing. The tip of his claws poke at Stu’s side, and Murdoc is careful not to claw him- not yet. He has plans to mark Stu’s skin when they make it to the room. For now, his only goal is to get rid of the shirt. “C’mere,” he growls before he kisses Stu once more.
He sucks on the blood on Stu’s lip, tasting the metallic ecstasy that he’s so addicted to. The only reason he pulls away from the kiss is that Stu needs to breathe and Murdoc doesn’t want him dying on him before they get to the good part. Then Murdoc uses his tail to physically sweep Stu off of his feet, knocking his balance over and picking up Stu in a quick flurry. He holds Stu up with his arms, gazing up into those beautiful eyes and smiling like a maniac. “Welcome home, Bluebird.”
With a yelp, Stu rests his hands on Murdoc’s shoulders. One of his fingers digs into one of the many black spots adorning Murdoc’s skin. “Did you miss me?” He asks, then gives a breathless laugh when Murdoc’s eyes glow brighter at the question.
Murdoc doesn’t answer; instead, he spins the two around and starts trudging down the hallway like he’s on a mission. “Took you bloody forever to come home,” he finally says as he pushes the door to Stu’s room open with his tail. The room is a mess, with clothing strewn about and towels on the ground from the many, many times Stu has tried to polish Murdoc’s horns for him.
He drops Stu onto the edge of the bed like a doll and slots himself between Stu’s knees. “Off,” he demands as he starts clawing at Stu’s jeans. Jeans are the worst of all to wear, always so hard to get off even if Murdoc’s ripping them to shreds and making Stu annoyed that he has to buy new clothing. Does that stop him? No. He sinks to his knees before Stu and lifts Stu’s ankles himself so he can take off Stu’s shoes.
“Don’t ruin my socks,” Stu grumbles as he watches Murdoc pull the fabric off too quickly. Then he lifts his hips and pushes his jeans and underwear down, inhaling sharply when Murdoc punctures a hole in the fabric. “Damn it, Mudz,” he says.
“It’s fine.” If it were up to Murdoc, he would keep Stu naked with him all day, every day. But alas, that was the biggest downside of Stu having to maintain a public figure and life: wearing clothing. Murdoc was lucky that he could only go outside at night when the world was asleep and unaware of his presence.
“Well-” Whatever retort Stu had for him dies in his throat when Murdoc looks up at him.
His smile sharp and shiny, showing off his teeth. Some of them are crooked, some are flat, others are just not there, and there’s one that pokes out of his lips when his mouth is closed. “Been waiting all day to do this, Blue.” As the honeyed poison drips from Murdoc’s lips, his eyes glow so red that they match his horns and the insides of his wings. He looks more like a monster than he’s ever looked before.
Stu spreads his thighs apart, cheeks burning as he stares down at Murdoc. “I missed you too,” he admits. “I ought to get you a phone so we can talk throughout the day.”
Murdoc has no interest in phones, but the thought of having one to talk to Stu while he’s gone is very tempting. Murdoc would take so many pictures of him and do nothing else with it. It’s pointless when all he cares about is right before him, spreading his legs and displaying himself like a treasure stolen from the vaults of heaven. Murdoc reaches forward, splaying his palm against Stu’s chest. One of his claws brushes against Stu’s nipple, causing him to shudder. Licking his lips at the sight, Murdoc pushes Stu down until he’s laid out before him. He takes a moment to admire the sight, eyes trailing over the blue pubic hair that trails up his lower stomach.
Of all the canvases in the world, Stu is the prettiest one. From the way his throat bobs with each swallow to the surgery scars on his chest proving he’s won a war against bigots to the fading bruises and scars given to him by Murdoc’s artistic talents, he is a pristine sculpture laid out naked and willing, staring up at Murdoc like he’s his reason for living in this world. And like every blank canvas, he needs a fresh coat of paint to redefine his beauty every so often.
He drags his claws down Stu’s upper torso, careful not to cut open the surgery scars but wanting to cut everywhere else. His cock twitches when Stu arches upward in response, tilting his head back into the bed beneath him and staring up at Murdoc with complete trust. Stu would let Murdoc carve his name into his skin if he wanted, and that thought alone drives Murdoc wild. He tenses his fingers quickly, watching as Stu’s skin suddenly turns red under his claws, then he pulls his hand away quickly, adoring the way the red slowly becomes white again.
“Murdoc,” Stu calls his name impatiently even as a bead of sweat races down his forehead. They haven’t even begun but he’s already so worked up. “What are you waiting for?”
Nothing. That’s all the permission he needed before he leans down and drags his teeth just under Stu’s collarbone. The hickey that he leaves in place is a dark purple bruise, but the one that follows after it- the one that Murdoc places in the center of Stu’s bone, right where the soft flesh of Stu’s throat meets his clavicle. He bites down hard there, feeling the way Stu’s throat tenses under him.
Stu can’t breathe like this, the flow of air halted by the pressure, and one of his hands immediately grabs one of Murdoc’s horns to hold onto. His voiceless gasp quickly becomes a choke, grasping for a breath that Murdoc mercifully gives him.
As Stu catches his breath, Murdoc gently kisses the mark he left. He licks it for good measure, blowing on it to cool off the heat that Stu must be feeling from the bite. It’s going to burn like all of his other bites that litter Stu’s chest, but he can’t help himself. The more willing Stu is, the more territorial Murdoc becomes. He wants the world to wonder who the hell keeps painting Stu with a love so violent that it’s seductive. He wants everyone to know that Stu belongs to him.
Grunting quietly from Stu’s hold on his horns, Murdoc lowers himself further down. He kisses Stu’s happy trail, inhaling slowly before he glances at his legs. His claws now rest on the front of Stu’s thighs, digging into the flesh there and drawing blood. It runs along his fingers, staining them a dark brown from where red and green mix. The sight is almost intoxicating; he could watch Stu bleed for hours.
He flicks out his tongue, running it along the outer folds of Stu’s entrance, eyes trailing upward to watch the way Stu’s black eyes stare back at him attentively. Slowly he pushes his tongue inward, teasing Stu open. Stu’s other hand comes to grab Murdoc’s other horn, his grip tightening as his hips buck upward.
“Murdoc,” Stu cries out, body begging and pleading for more. There’s purple starting to spread from his bruise, almost like he’s spilled paint all over the canvas.
“You taste so good,” Murdoc tells Stu, pulling a hand away from Stu’s thigh to slide one of his fingers against Stu’s hole. Rather than ask for permission, he pushes his finger inside and kisses Stu’s center as an apology. He bends his knuckle slightly, listening to Stu sob out his name once more.
Stu’s pleasure is a litany sung in dedication to Murdoc. His nails scratch against Murdoc’s horns as a desperate plea escapes his lips in the form of every indescribable curse known to man.
Murdoc responds to him in kind, pushing his tongue deeper and adding a second finger. He scissors his two digits apart, spreading Stu apart from the inside. He doesn’t take his time in adding the third finger, wiggling the three of them inside Stu. Then he quickly thrusts them in and out, repeating the action until Stu is pulling on his horns so quickly that, if Stu had the same demonic strength as Murdoc, the tips would break off if he weren’t careful.
He tastes Stu’s orgasm as it comes in spurts, and Murdoc makes sure to lap up every drop. The taste is sinful and everything he’s ever wanted from Stu; he could get drunk off of it. He drags his fingers out of Stu slowly, wiping the excess cum on Stu’s thigh, mixing the juice with his blood. Then Murdoc pulls away and waits until Stu’s looking at him through hazy eyelashes. “Delicious,” he coos.
“Don’t tease me,” Stu whines weakly. He wiggles his hips impatiently.
Murdoc rises to his knees and hoists Stu up, resting his cock just over Stu’s heat. He digs his fingernails into Stu’s ass, watching as Stu’s lips fall open in a quiet moan. “I’m not teasing you,” he says. “Just admiring the view.” He adds as he pushes his cock inside.
Warmth envelopes Murdoc’s cock and he lets out a long, drawn-out groan at the feeling. Every time he entered Stu felt like the first time he was summoned by the man. There was no greater bond for Murdoc than the one he’s forged with Stu, especially when they know each other from the inside out. He drops his weight on top of Stu, opening his mouth wide and clamping his teeth down on Stu’s throat.
“Oh fuck!” Stu cries out, pushing his hips up to force Murdoc deeper inside him, and his head lulls to the side to give Murdoc more access to his throat. His arms fall from Murdoc’s horns and wrap around his shoulders, pushing his nails into Murdoc’s green skin. He won’t leave any cuts or scratches because Murdoc heals quickly, but that doesn’t stop Stu from trying to draw out blood.
Murdoc rolls his hips as he bottoms out, taking in Stu’s scent as he sucks on his throat. He sinks his teeth in as much as he can, swallowing around the saliva and blood that builds up. He meant it earlier when he said that Stu tastes good. It’s like the forbidden nectar of the gods gifted to Murdoc in the form of Stuart Pot.
One of Stu’s feet slips out from under him and Murdoc’s tail reacts on impulse. It wraps around Stu’s ankle and holds it in the air as Murdoc thrusts inside his lover. The spikes on Murdoc’s tail aren’t as sharp as they look, but their blunt impact is strong enough to leave a welt, and its grip has certainly cut off the circulation of blood to Stu’s ankle.
“Want to cum again?” Murdoc rasps as he speeds up, eyes sparking with need. He’s waited all day for Stu to come home and let him ravage him and now he’s finally doing it. He’s so close to spilling that he wants to render Stu a disaster.
Stu’s response is a breathy laugh. “Fuck me, Murdoc.”
Murdoc digs one hand into the sheets beneath them, then he slides the other one around Stu’s throat. He rubs his thumb over the front, caressing the skin there like it’s a prize. “Anything for you, love,” he whispers. Then he wraps his hand around Stu’s throat, applying pressure as he pulls his cock out of Stu and then slams it right back into him.
The bed rocks under them, shaking from their weight and abuse. It rattles against the ground, but Murdoc doesn’t stop. He moves at a lightning pace, demonic speed and adrenaline spiking from the sight below him. Stu’s eyes are prickling with tears as his arms loosen around Murdoc’s shoulders. His breath is fading, unable to taste the air as Murdoc chokes him. Murdoc wants to let him die, wants to suffocate him until he’s a pile of ash to be taken down to hell with him. He wants and wants and wants-
But he doesn’t take.
Instead, he releases Stu’s throat with a quick pull of his hand, one of his claws nicking Stu’s neck and blood pooling out of the tiny slit. Stu gasps for the air, his face paling and his eyes rolling back as the airflow returns to him. And his body writhes under Murdoc as his second orgasm hits him fast, soon becoming a spasm as he clutches onto Murdoc and lets out a loud sob of his name.
Murdoc doesn’t stop fucking Stu even as he feels Stu’s cum all over his cock. He speeds up, and his hips stutter. “Stuart,” he growls out possessively. “Stuart,” he cries again, his voice like bedrock. “Stuart,” He moans once more, voice dark and deep like he’s unleashed his inner demon.
He comes inside Stuart, leaving him a mess of oversensitivity, blood, and white. Stu cries weakly from it, his arms falling to his side dramatically. Murdoc laughs as he pulls out, eyes immediately lured to the sight of his cum dripping out of Stu. He glances at Stu, then back at the cum, and then impulsively he reaches forward and starts pushing the juices back inside Stu.
“Mudz, no,” Stu groans out weakly. He squeezes his legs together as if to deny Murdoc.
“You’re so cute,” Murdoc murmurs, compliantly pulling his hand away. Then he leans down and kisses Stu on the forehead. “Are you alright?” He asks, pushing Stu’s hair out of his face.
Stu hums, his chest rising and falling slowly. “Need a bath,” he mumbles.
Murdoc lights up and his tail sways behind him. He kisses Stu once more. “Be right back.” Then he hurries out of the room, stopping for a second to fix the pictures that fell off of the wall earlier. Then once he is satisfied with their placement, Murdoc slips into the bathroom and starts drawing a bath for Stu. He waits until the water is at a decent level before he turns off the faucet and heads back into Stu’s room.
The bed is a *mess.* It looks like there was a fight on top of the sheets, bloody and stained white, and Murdoc delights in the sight. Yes, that was his and Stu’s doing! He glances at his boyfriend, face softening at the sight of Stu with his eyes closed. He looks so peaceful, so thoroughly fucked out that he has no more energy, but his lips are curled in contentment. Murdoc wants to curl next to him and sleep, but not with Stu looking like he just got mauled.
Heh, he did get mauled though.
“Come on, Prince,” Murdoc purrs as he lifts Stu up into his arms.
“I’m awake,” Stu answers despite that having nothing to do with what Murdoc just said.
It makes him laugh. “I believe you.” Murdoc carries Stu into the bathroom with ease. Thankful that they’re both naked, Murdoc sinks into the tub with Stu in his arms and holds him up as Stu winces from the tub. It didn’t matter how good the temperature of the bath was, it would still hurt the wounds on Stu’s body.
Stu leans against Murdoc, leaning his head in the crook of Murdoc’s neck. “This is nice,” he says as Murdoc starts to rub his back.
Choosing to grab a cloth instead of answering him, Murdoc gently starts to wash away the dried blood from Stu’s hips and sides. He slides the cloth slowly, meticulously so that Stu doesn’t cry out in pain. He pays close attention to how Stu reacts in his arms, watching as Stu careens his throat so Murdoc can clean the blood there too. “So beautiful,” Murdoc praises under his breath. He really can’t imagine meeting a human who isn’t as beautiful as Stu is.
Once the cloth is a dark brown and the water’s gone cold, Murdoc allows the drain to run. He doesn’t move, however, and instead starts slowly kissing the bruises that he left all over Stu. “Did it hurt?” He asks, the question routine at this point.
The answer is always the same. “Not enough.” Because Stu’s pain and pleasure were never enough for the two of them; Stu always wanted more and more and Murdoc always gave more and more.
“Next time,” Murdoc promises sweetly. He turns on the faucet once all of the water is gone, then he grabs a newer cloth and washes Stu’s feet for him. Dirt and blood wash away, sinking into the drain like the remnants of their first time together. Finally, Murdoc turns the faucet off again and leans in to kiss Stu on the lips. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Stu echoes.
This kiss is nothing compared to the bruising one from earlier, there’s no rush to it. All their heat was spent in the room and now Murdoc is tending to Stu with the devotion of a soulmate. He pets Stu’s hair, massaging his scalp and grumbling in the back of his throat. The sound is not necessarily a purr, but something different. It’s a sound he only makes when he is with his Stuart.
With another kiss to Stu, and then a third one placed in the center of his throat where Murdoc nicked him earlier, Murdoc pulls away with a hum. He rises from the tub and takes Stu with him, carrying him bridal style down the hall and into his room. He sits Stu down and then grabs a bottle of ointment off of the bedside table, uncapping it and pouring its contents into his hand. He rubs the fluid together, warming it up, then he sits in front of him.
Stu sucks in air sharply from between his teeth at the touch but doesn’t pull away when Murdoc starts to rub it into his throat. “Hate this stuff.”
“It tastes horrible,” Murdoc agrees. He’s kissed Stu’s skin so many times after applying the ointment on him that he knows how bitter and electric it tastes. It’s nothing as delicious as Stu. He moves to Stu’s chest next, pausing to thumb over Stu’s surgery scars. They’re not as sensitive to Murdoc’s touch as they were in the beginning; now Stu doesn’t flinch and Murdoc is free to admire his lover all he wants. Murdoc meets Stu’s eyes and smiles at him. If he moves one of his hands lower, he can feel Stu’s heartbeat, but he doesn’t need to do that to know that Stu’s reflecting smile is just as genuine.
By the time Murdoc’s done soothing Stu’s skin, Stu is yawning from exhaustion. Murdoc lays down and drags him into his arms, letting their legs tangle as they often do when the two of them are laying in bed. “Welcome home, Stu,” he repeats what he said earlier as he kisses Stu’s temple.
Stu hums in response. “It’s good to be home, Murdoc.”
Murdoc curls one of his wings around Stu, engulfing him in darkness so that Stu can sleep more peacefully with the lights off. Then he closes his eyes and smiles to himself.