BURN FOR ME
AN: So, I just watched the Boondock Saints and I wanted to mess with the characters. I hope you enjoy the first installment of the two-part fic! ^.^
The room was sparsely furnished, lit clearly by the midday sun streaming through two windows. The only sounds that could be heard were muffled groans, rustling sheets and the squeaking of the metal frame straining to support two bodies.
Murphy straddled Connor, his calloused hands expertly gliding up and down the blonde's body, lingering on places that tore moans and heady pleas from the taut lips. Smirking at his success, Murphy leaned down and whispered, "Not yet love, not yet."
Connor 's lips instantly parted at the endearment and hissed, white teeth flashing clearly behind puffy lips, "You bastard!" He could only wiggle against the bed, arms pulled up above his head and restrained with soft cotton ties. His worn jeans and tight hunter green t-shirt did nothing to relieve him of the ache between his legs. He moaned out, searching for the only touch that could bring him to glorious highs, or mercilessly torture him with languid strokes.
Murphy laughed, a quick sound in a quiet room. "Aye, but that would make you one too." Reaching in front of him, his right hand gently traced Connor's face. The blue eyes were clouded with arousal, frustration and love. The blond hair had fallen flat, the gel long gone. Sweat gently trailed down the sides of his face, accenting high cheekbones and pooling down his shirt, hinting at the muscle Murphy knew too well lay beneath the surface. The tobacco-stained fingers clenched and unclenched, the tanned skin a sharp contrast to the white cloth restraining them. The two knew that Connor could remove himself from the knots if he wanted too, but this was part of their game. One would control, removing the other from a position of power, dominating, bringing out their need for the slow pace, languid burning of flesh against flesh before the other would switch.
Murphy then brought his left hand down quickly, cupping the feel of smooth steel through denim before pressing gently at first, then harder. Connor bucked, a sign that he was close, too close to release for Murphy's comfort, and Murphy moved his hands upwards, tearing apart the shirt.
Connor hissed as the cool air rushed over his chest. The intoxicating cool against burning skin made his head spin. Too much, too much! His eyes began to roll back into his head as Murphy lay butterfly kisses along his jaw, followed by an insistent tongue to his pierced nipples.
Murphy began to rock back and forth, hoping for relief, as his expert tongue painted a trail of all Connor's weaknesses. Dammit, this man is killin' me!
So entranced was he in the feel of Connor's skin, Murphy didn't notice the change in Connor's position until it was too late. "What the—" Murphy barely started the question before he was pinned down by Connor. Somehow, in the past few moments, Connor had slipped out of the ties, and pounced.
Smirking widely, Connor looked down at Murphy. A scowl was present on the brunette's face, while his hair now stood at odds and ends. Sweat had darkened parts of his dark grey shirt, while faded torn jeans covered legs that lead upwards to a glorious chest.
Connor purred. "Isn't this such a nice change, brother of mine?" He couldn't help but notice that Murphy, always in his same manner, tensed at being called his brother during this time, only to shove it aside and focus on receiving touches, caresses and rough kisses.