…Please…

…Take me…

If there are looks that can kill, there are definitely looks that can fuck. Least ways, that's what Murphy thought for that one long moment he met eyes with his brother on that boring Monday evening.

With nothing better to do, the twins are often left to their own devices—oh how people would tell you what a bad idea that is. In Connor's mind, there are only a few things that can be done to cure utter boredom. 1) Go down to the arcade and play video games. They didn't have any quarters. 2) Listen to music and dance like he learned in high school. He's quite the good dancer, but they didn't have any music or means to play it for that matter. 3) Fuck…fuck till he can't move any more. Hm…

So their eyes met and Murphy read the expression on his brother's face immediately. Such a simple look that seemed like someone had taken passion, excitement, composure, and zeal, squished them together into some kind of medium and carved Connor's pretty face out of it. It made Murphy hungry, but with a different kind of apetite.

"I wonder why we sit at home doin' nothin' when we don' gotta go ta work?" Connor had questioned. Murphy now thought this was an excellent question. Why did they sit and do nothing? There were quite a few things Murphy could think of to do in this mood he was in now.

But neither of them moved. Neither wanted to be the instigator tonight. Connor had this strange addiction to being under his brother—feeling everything that Murphy was as far as unmanageable enthusiasm goes. And usually that was all right. Usually Murphy was good with taking the reigns because he had a slight addiction to power. He had a slight dependence on that feeling he gets every time Connor submits. It makes a quiver in his stomach just thinking about it.

It made Murphy feel a bit selfish at times, and kind of left out. Sometimes he wanted to be taken. Sometimes he wanted to let Connor press him into the couch or the mattress. He wanted it to happen more often.

First, though, before he could have that, he had to lure Connor into it. He had to lay his trap and bait it. Warfare strategy should be a class one has to take to become part of the MacManus household. Murphy thought for a long while what his worm would be. After he got his brother to make a move, it was clear from there.

Connor knew something was going on in Murphy's head. There was something rotten in Denmark, and he was determined to figure out what. Before that—the first priority on his list was making sure to evade whatever Murphy could cook up. He'd have to speak first, no doubt. Connor was confident that he would have his way because that's just the way things went. "We should go dancin'," he suggested just to start conversation.

"I don' think so."

And Murphy was just being so cool with it. He looked Connor straight in the eyes, almost daring for a challenge. With a deep breath, he planted his feet on the ground and leaned forward with is arms resting on his thighs. A neutral position.

"What, ya uncomfertable with dancin' in front o' people."

"I would be tanight."

Just what is that supposed to mean, Connor thinks. His instinct tells him that Murphy's setting him up for something, but his curiosity can't help but get the better of him. "Why would ya be?"

As Murphy's smirk widened slightly, Connor felt like just throwing the fight. That smile—the one that only worked on Murphy's façade—made Connor want to bend him over the chair and…oh what he would do.

"Can ya keep a secret?" The pale twin looked around as though there were other people around he'd need to be careful of. Then he leaned towards his brother and said, quite calmly: "I'm not wearin' any underwear."

That completely caught Connor off guard. At first he was inclined to say "I beg your pardon?" or something along those lines (i.e. "What the fuck?"), but he didn't. He just watched as Murphy sat back, cool as a cucumber, and thought about it. Then it suddenly clicked with the sound of a tree falling down.

Hesitantly, Connor stood. Murphy looked up at him innocently, making the blond one want to smack for his arrogance. He knew exactly what ideas were plastered across Murphy's face and the thoughts would make most audiences blush (see: intercourse, sodomy, and over-all naughtiness). But the most important thing Connor wanted to think of was this: there was one less layer of clothing between him and Murphy. And an angel must have smiled when she thought that Murphy might forget to wear his undergarments.

It wasn't any sort of fair. Murphy practically pulled Connor up by his arousal, and it wasn't any sort of fair. Still, it was fun the revenge Connor got to take. As the blond twin pinned his wary brother to the floor beside the table they'd been sitting at, he smirked and whispered in his ear. "Don't expect ta sit right fer the next week, ya pissant."

It felt nice being had, being taken, being owned. It made Murphy feel like he really belonged and that—if there were any doubts about this—that Connor really wanted him. That Connor wanted him so much that he'd steal him away from the world for a night (or more). Though, of course, Connor's threat wasn't to be taken lightly. And from then on out, Murphy never forgot to wear his underwear.

…Oh God, yes…

…Harder…

Nicholas: Oo, bet you liked that, Becki. I don't know, I tried to make it blush-worthy as you requested, but I'm afraid that it might not have come out that way. And I purposely didn't do anything hardcore. It just seems so much yummier when you leave a lot to the imagination. Hope you liked, and all you people that might care to read AND REVIEW!!

Disclaimer: I don't own it, but I am on a sugar high, so I might do something stupid like steal away Connor and Murphy from the last fangirl I saw them with...was that spaceraider? I can't remember.

Rating: M...language...suggestiveness...slash...tricksterism ('tis now a word for the sugar in me says so.)