A/N – This story prompt woke me out of a sound sleep at three am (yes I checked the time) one Monday morning. This story will be all about the rope. But dark, twisted, angsty rope this time. Nothing like my rope in Sex Four Ways. For those who don't know me explicit and out there smut will feature from the next chapter on. And it is of the slash twincest variety. If you don't like that, don't read this story because if this goes according to plan both Murphy and Connor will be put through the wringer. This story is set between the movies when Murphy and Connor are living in Ireland with Noah.

Connor was vibrating in his sleep. Murphy woke up feeling him, Connor's vibrations pressing against his own brain, battering at him. Exhausting him already when they'd only just begun again. He crawls out of bed and walks unapologetically naked to the bathroom down the hall. It was between his and Connor's room and his father's tiny bedroom. As he takes a leak Murphy remembers when they'd arrived at the small house the Church had furnished them with upon their return to Ireland.

He and Con had immediately thrown their bags onto the double bed in the main room, leaving Noah, their father with the tiny bedroom and the bunk beds. Noah had frowned at them but not said anything. At first. Putting on the light Murphy looks at himself in the mirror as he washes his hands. He looks tired, haggard. These past few years have been fucking rough on them. It wasn't a fucking movie, they didn't reunite with their father and fade to happy every after shit when the credits rolled.

Was fucking hard work, trying to build a relationship with a father who'd been in prison for most of their lives. Not to mention living with the man when he and Con were used to being on their own, sharing everything, anytime they wanted to. Murphy leans on the vanity staring at himself, dark hair, blue eyes, growing beard. It was covering his moles which was a good thing. Murphy hated his moles. For some reason women were turned on by them and that just pissed him off.

Shaking his head Murphy switches off the light and heads back to his bedroom. Flopping on the bed beside his vibrating brother he closes his eyes and shifts his mind, mentally blocking Connor's vibrations so he can sleep himself.

##########

Three days later they leave for the hills, moving sheep through some paddocks. They'll be away for a few days at the most. Murphy hopes it will be enough to stop Connor vibrating but he doubts it. It's the other he needs to get him through things now. Not the clean air, the endless sky and the open paddocks. But Murphy will always try his other avenues first, it's almost like a game, seeing what will and won't work to still Connor's vibrations.

The first night they camp Connor fucks Murphy three times. He is hard and aggressive, Murphy spends the next day in the saddle in pain. The second night they're away Murphy holds Connor while he cries and apologises repeatedly. Murphy strokes his hair and murmurs nonsensical stuff in Connor's ear. It slows the vibrations but doesn't stop them.

The third night Murphy instigates a knock down drag out fight. All that does is get him het up enough to fuck Connor as hard and fast as Connor had fucked him and then some. Now they're both wincing in the saddle on the way home and Connor is vibrating so much Murphy's skull feels like it's splitting from the inside out. Connor is battering at him so hard Murphy fancies he can see Connor vibrating as he rides along beside him.

Halting his mare at their cottage Murphy dismounts tossing the reins to Connor, "Need to talk to Da, be over soon to help you Con." Murphy see's Connor's hands jerk on his own reins and his whole body twitch at his words. He nods without looking at Murphy.

"Aye brother. Thank you." Murphy sighs as he watches Connor move off, he fancies he feels the vibrations lessen already but he's probably just imagining it. Walking inside he doesn't bother taking off his boots, he'll be going out again soon enough.

"Da?" He calls out. Noah looks up from the rocking chair he'd been doing his leather work in.

"Murphy?" He questions, looking immediately behind for Connor. "Where is Connor?"

"Still in the stable, I'm out again meself. You need to go." Murphy says no more and Noah looks up at him.

"Murphy, 'S not right. You shouldn't…' Murphy says no more, merely turns and ignoring his father he leaves the cottage and goes to the stable. Connor has unsaddled both horses and is brushing his own mount down already. Murphy gets a brush and starts on his mare. His temper is boiling over as it always is with his father's asinine attitude.

What right did he have to say what he and Con did was wrong? He had no idea, no fucking idea what it was like growing up without him. Growing up and dealing with their fucking drunk mother. Murphy snorts as his mare moves under his hands. He murmurs to her soothingly, trying to calm her even if he can't calm himself.

Suddenly Connor's hands are there, taking the brush, pushing him aside. "'S okay Murph, I got this, wipe down the tack yeah?" Con asks softly, his own fingers trembling as they touch Murphy's. His need is barely controlled, Murphy can feel the vibrations almost pushing physically at him, trying to crawl under his skin, to wrap themselves around his throat and squeeze until he can't breathe anymore.

"Ta Con." He answers as he moves to the tack getting out the polish and a rag. He is slow and methodical, ignoring Connor as he finishes with Murphy's mare and then feeds the rest of their animals for the evening. Once they're in the cottage they won't be coming out until the next day at least. Connor is in the shed getting feed for the chickens when Murphy see's Noah standing at the fence out of the corner of his eye.

"There's stew staying warm, bread fresh-baked as well. How long should I be gone for?" Murphy finally looks at Noah as he asks this question. He looks over to the shed that holds the most precious thing in the world to him and closes his eyes for a second opening himself to Connor's vibrations.

"Three or four days, week would be best." He answers as he opens his eyes and looks over at his father. Noah shakes his head.

"If I'm gone a week I could come back to find you dead." His words are harsh, blunt and truthful. Murphy shakes his head.

"If that's the case then Da, Con would be dead too and you fuckin' know it." He answers just as harshly.

"You know it's wrong, sick, unnatural and against everything the church stands for, everything life stands for." Noah is working himself up to a rant and Murphy is hoarding his energy for what is to come so he cuts his father off at the pass before he can get up a head of steam and come to blows with Murphy. If Con ever found out the shit Noah said to Murphy he'd kill Noah without hesitation. Murphy knows full well he would see it as a slight, not as someone who just doesn't understand them and their unique relationship.

"Aye and a fuckin' 'calling' from God is natural? Ain't stupid Da, 'S bunch a bullshit and I fuckin' know it, get the fuck out, don't come back for a week." Murphy turns away and finishes with the tack. When he looks over he sees Connor watching silently from the shed doorway he wonders how much, if anything he'd heard.

After cleaning the tack Murphy checks all the animals have water and then he stands in the yard and stretches. It is late afternoon. They are alone as they rarely are these days and despite Connor's vibrations battering at him he feels his shoulders relaxing bit by bit. Walking to the cottage Murphy sits on the front stoop and waits for the other half of his soul to finish with the animals and join him.

##########

Noah curses as he drives into town. He will go to Father Jamison's the next town over. Punching the steering wheel Noah continues to curse, he can't make Murphy see that what they do, how they are with each other is wrong. It's blasphemy against everything they stand for. What they do disgusts Noah on his most basic human level.

Both his sons physically disgust him. They are brothers, twins. Flesh of his flesh, flesh of each other's flesh. It is against every possible law known to man and God that they be lovers. It is wrong on every level and yet he has lived with the knowledge that they're lovers for three years now. How long they have lived with it he doesn't know and will not ask.

As always when he's been banished Noah thinks of when he'd first discovered that Murphy and Connor were more than brothers. He'd received a hint when they'd taken the larger bedroom with the double bed. It had been something they didn't even hesitate over, they'd just taken it, as it if were their right to have the bigger bed instead of his as their father.

It was a month later that Noah finally realised the bruises and scrapes that they often sported on their necks and collarbones weren't from horsing around, though he'd thought they did plenty of that in their bedroom from the sounds he heard. He'd thought it odd at first that they didn't do any horsing around in the kitchen or lounge of the cottage, they didn't wrestle in the yard, it was always and only ever in their bedroom. That had been his second hint. His third hint was the face that they often showered together, not just using the bathroom together, but showering.

But his biggest hint had been when Connor had been skittish one night for lack of a better word. Murphy had settled him by stroking a hand down his spine, he'd started at Connor's neck, squeezing the muscles tightly and then stroking his fingers down Connor's spine until he reached the belt, then his hand had slid around to palm one of Connor's hips, squeezing there as well before letting go. Noah had been beyond speechless.

How could he have missed all of those signs? When he'd gone to bed that evening he had not slept. He'd listened to Murphy and Connor having sex and had felt soiled himself as he now realised those sounds weren't horsing around, they were the sounds of sex. Sex between his sons, his twin sons.

A month, it had taken him a month to realise they were more than brothers.

Courage to speak of the knowledge he now had, had taken another two months to gather. Two months of listening and praying he wouldn't vomit, praying he wouldn't pick up his shotgun and walk into their bedroom and end them both.

Murphy hadn't taken more than three fucking minutes to shut him down. "What we are is none of your fuckin' business, "S ours and ours alone, not yours, not Ma's, not the fuckin' churches, or any fuckin' priests, you mention it again to me or Con, together or separate, I'll slit your fuckin' throat Da, see if I don't." Murphy had said no more but he'd backed away until he stood in front of Connor protectively. Noah gave up the fight before he'd even begun when he saw Connor wrap an arm around Murphy's slim waist even as his other reached for the carving knife that had lain on the kitchen bench.

However when he'd come back from a weekend away four months later to find Murphy bruised and battered with rope burns all over his body Noah had spoken again.

It had taken Connor five minutes to pull Murphy off Noah and calm him, despite his injuries Murphy would have killed Noah and he knew it.

And so Noah quit while he was ahead. He learned to close his ears to the sounds he heard almost every evening when they were all abed. He learned to be blind to the marks that both Murphy and Connor were almost always sporting somewhere on their neck and collarbones. The bruises he'd see if a shirt rode up too much or jeans rode down. And he learned to tell Murphy how well he looked when he returned to the cottage after he'd been told to leave for a few days.

Usually every few months he'd be told by Murphy to make himself scarce. It was always just as he noticed that there was something wrong with Connor that Murphy told him to go. It took Noah a long time to realise that when he noticed Connor's twitchiness Murphy had already been aware of it for days. He knew when it got too much and he took steps to get Noah out of the way so that when Connor blew he was the only one around.

He'd gone to their mother about a year ago asking if Connor had ever had any treatment. She had told him yes, but nothing had worked. Only Murphy had been able to calm Connor down, he'd figured out a way when they were around sixteen or so. Noah wondered if this was when they became lovers but he'd never queried if Annabelle knew they were more than brothers. He had no place to question what she may or may not have known considering he'd never kept in contact after being jailed in the United States.

When he gets to the next town over, Noah pulls up in front of Father Jamison's rectory and shuts off the engine of the truck. He rests his head on the steering wheel, he is both glad to be away and dreading what he will find when he returns home. Looking at Father who has opened the front door to him Noah knows Murphy has rung him and told him that he was on his way. Noah shakes his head. Murphy took care of everyone, but who took care of Murphy?

Noah asks God for forgiveness on his knees every night; forgiveness for the one sin he does not, cannot confess.

That the flesh of his flesh feast on each other.