"I need ya."
They were the words Connor MacManus begged to hear from his twin brother. Murphy would be fast asleep and Connor would just sit back and watch him. Sometimes it was just simply watching; sometimes it escalated to full on perversity, or so the outsider would think.
To Connor, Murphy was more than perfect. He made Connor feel like a real person, like there was something worth living for in the world. Murphy was the one person Connor could count on for anything; Connor would just walk into the apartment with a slowly forming black eye and Murphy would already be out the door to go after the bastard who had hurt Connor.
"I want ya."
The only thing Connor couldn't count on his brother for was a good lay. Of course, Connor had never flat out said "Fuck me" to his brother, and he never would. He knew Murphy wasn't gay, and even if he was, he would never have sex with his own flesh and blood; Murphy was smarter than that.
But Connor could dream.
He'd had the reoccurring the dream of waking up to his brother touching him, kissing him, tasting every inch of Connor's exposed skin. Connor would fight back, would say, "No, no, this en't righ'." And Murphy would fight back as well, pushing Connor's outstretched arms away until he had his brother's face in his hands. Murphy would start slowly, kissing around Connor's eyes, the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, the edge of his lips. Connor wouldn't respond, eyes downtrodden, breaths coming in short, shallow huffs. "Murph-" he'd mutter as Murphy's hands moved to roam Connor's body, inching down past nipples and happy trails, ever so close...
As Murphy slept, Connor would just stare. It had gotten so bad that just staring at his twin could easily set Connor off. And even easier, get Connor off. Looking at his twin that night, he began to feel the same strain in a familiar region of his shorts and Connor stifled a moan.
Murphy twitched suddenly; Connor flipped over to his other side soundlessly, eyes wide, staring towards the kitchen. He stopped breathing to listen for the steady sound that said Murphy was still asleep, that he was just dreaming.
Instead, he heard Murphy roll out of bed slowly, and pad the five feet between their beds, kneeling down next to Connor's.
"Conn?" he mumbled.
Connor had always been good at feigning sleep; back in Ireland, Ma would come round for the chores to be done and Connor would act asleep so Murphy would have to take his load of-
Connor was happy the apartment was so dark because of the blush that raced across his skin.
"Conn?" Murphy mumbled again as Connor's eyelids fell shut. He then began an almost overacted wakeup, grumbling and groaning.
"Wha'? Who's'it?"
"Conn, I-I had a nigh'mare."
Tha'fuck ya did.
"Aye?" Connor questioned.
"Can I sleep with ya?"
Whatever this nightmare was, it had scared Murphy into a frail and minute shadow of his normal self. He hadn't asked to sleep in Connor's bed since they were in Ireland, since they were just boys. Either Murphy hadn't had any "bad" nightmares since then, or he had just been really, really good at covering them up.
Nonetheless, Connor scooted over to the far side of the mattress to let his brother under the covers. He lay with his back to his brother, to hide the throbbing ache in his shorts, to hide the look of pure excitement and satisfaction on his face.
The mattress was smaller than Connor remembered, evidenced by Murphy scooting right up to his twin's back. Connor bit his lip so hard to stop the whimper from escaping, he nearly drew blood. Soon, however, the gentle plumes of warm air across Connor's back were all of two things: Confirmation that Murphy was sleeping peacefully again and too much for Connor to handle. Murphy's breath made Connor's skin prickle and made his mind and groin ache awful painfully. He judged he had never had it this rough before because Murphy hadn't been in his bed, hadn't been so close, since Connor had developed these sinful feelings.
Connor shifted slightly so Murphy's breaths passed right over the top of his nose. He rolled slowly once more to his right side so he was full on facing Murphy, his posterior being angled out slightly to keep any unwanted but wanted physical contact from occurring. Without realizing it, Connor began to drink in Murphy's face, staring more than he ever before had, how Murphy's face was so pale in the starlight that filtered in the window, how his dark brown hair looked black in the shadowy apartment, how his stubble curved so close to his perfect lips.
In his drinking, Connor missed the fact that Murphy's breathing was slowly returning to normal, that his eyelids were fluttering and that his brain was regaining consciousness from his short sleep.
Murphy could have been stirring because Connor's hand had absentmindedly began snaking up and around Murphy's exposed chest and his face, or it could have been Murphy had just gotten too much sleep. Which was never the case with Murphy, so when he realized his brother's hand was on his body, he sat up quickly. Connor followed, attempting to grab his brother's arm.
"Murphy-"
Connor had seen this in his dreams, had wanted this for so long, that maybe it was his subconscious finally stepping out and saying, "I need ya Murphy MacManus."
Murphy stopped short, his eyes fastened to Connor's, possibly searching for some answer to the questions forming in Murphy's head. He eventually settled for one.
"Why didn' ya tell me?"
Connor swallowed. His brother was sitting in an awkward position, poised as if ready to spring out of the bed, should Connor try anything.
"'Tis not righ', brother," he whispered quietly. Murphy shook his head.
"Yar righ', 'tis not, but I'm yar brother. Of all tha people ya should be able ta talk ta."
Connor looked down at his knees.
"'Tis not righ'."
"Somethin' not bein' righ's never stopped ya b'fore."
Connor looked up at Murphy as he turned back towards Connor, slowly taking his face in his hands. Maybe it had been a premonition or maybe Connor just wanted to play hard to get, but as the reoccurring dream began to unfold in front of him, Connor struggled. He fought against Murphy as the pale boy pushed back against him; he put up his arms to fend Murphy back but, just like in the dream, Murphy simply pushed his brother's arms out of the way.
"Murph...Murph, ya know this en't righ'..." Connor stuttered as Murphy climbed up to sit on Connor's stomach, succeeding in pushing his brother back even farther onto the bed. Connor groaned quietly at the feeling of Murphy, warm and full, pressing against his stomach.
"It's wha' ya wan' en't it?"
"Na, w-we can't-" Connor faltered as Murphy's lips pressed against his neck, trailing feather light kisses up Connor's vein to his jaw, to his cheek, to his lips.
Connor had been unresponsive until Murphy went to press his lips against his own; he turned his head a fraction of an inch and whispered, "Ya wan' this, d'ar brother?"
Murphy's lips were a hairsbreadth from Connor's skin.
"'Co'rse I do," he murmured, the feeling of his warm breath spreading across Connor's sending a shock wave through his brain.
"How-how long?"
"Fer ferever."
Connor resisted the quick urge to smack Murphy in the back of the head and then he remembered he hadn't let on either.
"But...ya didn' say anythin'?" He hadn't meant it to come out as a question.
"Neither did ya," Murphy whispered, pressing his lips gently to the edge of Connor's mouth.
Connor swallowed hard. "How long did ya know?"
"Not very."
"How'd ya know?"
"Yar me brother. Ya feelin' this way stuck ou' like a sore thum'."
Connor blushed once more and when a low chuckle rumbled in Murphy's small chest, Connor was sure it was because he had felt the sudden heat change.
"Why didn' ya say somethin'?"
"I wanted ta be sure."
"Wha' made ya so sure tanight brother?"
"Th' way ya rolled ta yar side when I climbed in yar bed, and th' way yar're so tense." Murphy glanced down slightly. "An' other things."
Connor smiled small. He looked back at Murphy, chewing on his lower lip.
"Can-can we make this work?" he asked after a moment.
"O' co'rse brother," he whispered. "I've never wanted ta make somethin' work more."
Connor was quiet once more. He felt weak and he didn't know why.
"Will it work?"
"O' co'rse it will. I promise."
Fire shot through Connor. His eyes lit up and Murphy took it as an invitation to finally press his lips against his brother's, savoring the taste that the recent alcohol and cigarettes left. Connor moaned into the kiss and tried moving several areas of his body at once, including his hands to touch Murphy and his pelvic bone, to put more pressure in just the right spot.
However, the way Murphy was sitting, Connor couldn't reach pressure with his bone and he couldn't move one hand for Murphy had knelt on it when he had originally sat down on Connor.
Murphy took the moan in excitedly, running his tongue along Connor's lower lip. He was met with a slight gasp and suddenly Connor's tongue pushed into Murphy's mouth, tasting every crevice possible.
Connor moved his free hand, so he could pull Murphy closer, but Murphy easily pinned it back down to the bed with a swipe of his own hand. Connor wriggled in protest beneath him; Murphy loved that feeling.
Murphy broke the passion filled kiss, pressing his lips to Connor's jaw and neck once more. He nipped the skin slightly at different intervals, each time strangling an almost breathless moan from Connor's lips, and continued kissing down past Connor's chest, over the outline of muscles on his stomach, to his navel, and even farther.
Murphy reached the elastic rim of Connor's boxers; he rolled the inch wide strip of fabric down one, two, three times to expose the sensitive flesh underneath. He kissed the plain of skin softly, sending Connor squirming and reeling across the bed. Murphy held his brother's hips still, kissing still, as Connor let out a strained whine through clenched teeth.
"Fuck Murph!" he hissed, tangling his fingers into his twin's hair. Murphy grinned devilishly against Connor's skin and peeled his boxers down the rest of the way.
Connor had been at attention for a good ten minutes now; there had been no hiding that. Murphy kissed down the inside of Connor's thigh and then suddenly wrapped his lips around Connor's member, wringing a gasp from the blonde boy. Murphy worked with quick precision; he moved his head, flicked his tongue, brushed his fingers everywhere they needed to be. The purpose of this part of the night was not to "get Connor off", so to speak; it was to get him ready. Although, Murphy suddenly thought, Connor had probably been ready for this for a while.
With that, he withdrew his lips from Connor's member; much to his satisfaction, Connor let out a low hiss.
"Murph-"
"Shh, shh," Murphy whispered against Connor's thigh. "All in good time brother, all in good time."
He kissed along Connor's skin back up to his lips; he drug his fingernails softly across Connor's body, trailing them over Connor's pelvic skin. Connor's breath hitched.
Murphy leaned down and kissed right below Connor's ear.
"Murph," Connor gasped, "I don' think I can las' much longer-" His fingernails scratched across Murphy's skin, left marks.
"Are ya sure?"
And, breathlessly, Connor hissed, "Yas!"
Murphy smiled against his brother's skin once more, quickly slid off his boxers, and then positioned himself so he was above Connor and in between his legs. He paused to stroke his brother's hair softly.
"Tell me ta stop. If it ya don' like it."
Connor nodded though he couldn't imagine what he wouldn't like about it.
Murphy slowly pushed himself inside his brother and Connor found out what he wouldn't like.
He gripped Murphy's back as if he were a life raft and Connor were sinking in the ocean; he could feel his nails almost tearing Murphy's skin and he nearly screamed "STOP!" because he didn't want to hurt him.
Murphy sensed the change in Connor and slowed down, barely inching inside of him for a few moments. Connor's heart began fluttering faster as pain was over washed with pleasure and he yelped when, after another moment or so, he felt nothing but the pleasure.
"Faster," he hissed into his brother's ear. Murphy was happy to oblige.
They moved together quickly, Connor whimpering in Murphy's ear, Murphy grunting into Connor's. Each felt himself slowly growing closer to a release, and each was sure the other could feel their climb, too.
Connor gulped and gasped and realized the feelings he was feeling were not supposed to be felt by any human; he must have died and gone to Heaven. Or God was still on their side, one of the two.
"Conn-" Murphy moaned against his brother's skin. Connor's back arched and they shattered together. Murphy collapsed on top of Connor and he wrapped his arms around Murphy's pale body, melding them into one person. He kissed the side of Murphy's head, repeatedly, gently.
Neither wanted to speak, for fear of breaking the sweet spell they were under. On top of that, Connor feared speaking because it might wake him up from the beautiful dream.
"Connor?"
Murphy's voice broke the silence after what seemed like days.
"Yeah Murph?"
Murphy propped himself up on his elbows and lingered above Connor.
"I love ya."
Connor smiled.
"I love ya too Murph."
Murphy grinned and pressed his lips against Connor's again. Connor chuckled into the kiss, causing Murphy to break it.
"Wha'?"
Without warning, Connor flipped Murphy onto his back, pinning his wrists down against the mattress so he couldn't fight against him. The look in Connor's eyes gave him away and Murphy's grin widened. Connor had wicked intentions and Murphy was content to let him do what he wanted.
Connor kissed Murphy's lips and then his cheeks; pausing by his brother's ear, he barely hissed,
"My turn."