Butterflies and Bullets
Chapter One
Murphy wandered down the near-empty street, his hands crammed deep into his coat pockets against the freezing weather, hoping to keep them from freezing off.
He and Connor had fought. About something stupid, as usual. For once, it wasn't brotherly 'bickering', which would be solved by wrestling until something broke—for instance: the air vent, the table, a forklift, lamps, various other tables, one time an altar, and once or twice a couch. Various couches—and then they would forget about the stupid argument. This time they had yelled. Loudly. There was fists, name calling. Murphy had gotten fed up and left. He didn't know where he was supposed to go.
But he was fuckin' cold. He could head back, but why would he interrupt Eve and Connor's "Only time together." Only time together besides every other second of the day, as Connor was constantly leaving Murphy alone at home to go see Eve at work, to wait outside of Silk to make sure she didn't get into any trouble... Which was destined to happen. Murphy had realized recently that they never truly separated. It was like they were stuck together whenever Eve was home—which, granted, was rarely, but it still seemed like it never ended.
Even if they did seem happier than when Murphy disappeared for a few hours, he didn't like to have to go out into the freezing-ass Boston cold just so they two of them could fuck. He gave a stout eye roll to show that he was annoyed by this.
Maybe I should just stay out all night. Then maybe they can be cheerful enough for a few days, Murphy pondered. He realized now that he had a hangnail on his finger and lifted it up to his mouth to bite at it. In spite of the earliness of the evening—only eight—he figured he could go out and get a beer. Maybe some shots. He liked that idea.
He pondered where a bar would be, glancing ahead of him on the unfamiliar street, finding nothing, and then glancing back behind him. The Rusty Nail. That sounded like a bar. He shrugged, and about-faced, turning to run across the road, hoping no cars came—at least a big one. He could fight off maybe a small vehicle, like a scooter or a motorcycle, but anything bigger than a Geo Metro might win him over.
Hands still stuffed into his pockets, Murphy walked on—how had he been able to read that sign if it was so fucking far away? He heaved a sigh, and coughed, figuring that a cigarette would make his lungs feel better. He reached into his pocket for his lighter once he got to the door of the bar, his little cigarette in the corner of his mouth.
"Get the fuck away from me!" A small voice called, the swinging door shoved open and a dark haired girl shoved out, followed by big men in nice suits. One was large and bald, the other smallish with thick hair. The girl glanced up at Murphy fleetingly, her eyes hopeful and begging. Murphy's stomach felt like he was falling—"Butterflies."
"'Ey, she said leave 'er alone." Murphy said, quietly, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth, and blowing the smoke out of his nose. "So… Back off, righ'?" He waved his hand at the suited men, a shooing motion, not sure why he thought they might listen to him. The haired one turned to the bald one, and spoke in quick Russian, too quick for Murphy's tired mind to keep up with it. Eve and Connor's constant fucking had been keeping him up more often than not. He didn't know if he had slept properly in the past month.
"Where is your bratchnie brother, eh, Irish boy?" The bald one asked, reaching into his coat. The small girl looked frightened, moving closer to Murphy, making him wonder why she was trying to be protected by him. Sure, he could hold his own, but he didn't look like much. Especially compared to these two huge Russian guys.
"I didn' start anything," Murphy stated, holding his arms up after pushing the girl back behind him. If this bald Russian pulled out a gun, Murphy was pretty prepared to say that he and the girl didn't have much of a fucking-chance-in-hell. He didn't have his gun on him; it was completely illogical to carry that big-ass thing around with him, especially in public. He let out a loud sigh and pushed the cigarette back into his mouth from his fingers as both the suited men—most likely, he decided now, mafia—pulled revolvers from their coats.
"I'm going to die…" The girl cried, covering her ears as tears suddenly spilled out of her eyes.
"Shut up, whore!" The haired man said loudly, pointing his gun at the girl, obviously his temper was short. Murphy was going to have to keep his under control—
"You fuckin' apologize to 'er!" He said, louder than was necessary, interrupting his own thoughts of keeping his temper down; and pointed his finger in the haired Russian's face. There was no guarantee that the two of them, this girl and Murphy, were getting out of this alive, but Murphy planned on taking this bitch down with him, if he did get taken down. Murphy's temper was just as bad as the next guys—maybe even worse. He lashed out a lot more than he needed to, and was quick to change emotions. His moods were fast, he had to admit; sometimes even he couldn't keep track of them.
Baldy pointed his gun at Murphy still, face in his haired friend's—if you could call it hair. At this close a distance, Murphy was pretty close to positive that that was a toupee.
"You killed Ivan." The bald one said. Murphy gave a dirty look, leaving his finger in Toupee's face.
"I killed a lot o' you fuckin' Russian basterds." Murphy stated. "Who the fuck was Ivan?" Baldy yelled in anger, not sure what else to do, and pointed the gun more thoroughly at Murphy's head as if he hadn't aimed well enough the first time.
Murphy took this chance to dive at Baldy, shouldering him in the ribs and punching him over the head before taking his gun and pointing it at Toupee. "Get the fuck out of my face. And leave deh lass the fuck alone." He said, angrily, shooting at Toupee's feet, trying to scare him. The dark haired girl stood, hand pressed over her painted mouth.
Toupee ran, leaving his friend behind. Murphy reached instinctively into Baldy's pocket and extracted his money clip, handing it to the girl, not sure why. She reached out to take the money, presumably, and Murphy went to turn away, only to have his fingers grabbed.
The girl ran, pulling Murphy behind her, her stiletto heels clicking loudly, and Murphy wondering how the hell she could run in those, and why the hell she was wearing such a short skirt—and those death traps—in this Frostbite-inducing temperature.
The girl pulled him into an odd alley—both of them thanking God that the street had been empty and no one had seen Murphy admit to killing Russian people, or see him shoot at some other Russian guy.
"You're one of them, aren't you?" The girl asked. Murphy raised an eyebrow and took a step away from the girl, noticing the proximity. They were sharing the same recycled fog-breath. Murphy reached into his pockets, digging for his lighter and cigarettes, realizing he had not lost them in the battle.
"One of who?" Murphy asked, taking a long and soothing drag off of the cigarette, blowing a little smoke ring for his own amusement.
"The Saints." The girl whispered her voice breathy and quiet, calm and sensual. Her eyes were bright and gray—almost frighteningly bright—and her lips were bow shaped and perfect. Murphy was quiet, saying nothing. The way he saw it, he and Connor were only the Saints when they could fucking agree on something — anything. They were only the Saints when their Da, Il Duce, was involved. And now that Da was gone, they couldn't be the Saints. Granted, they didn't even do the deed anymore. The just hid from cops, shot people who needed shooting, and that was all. Except in Connor's case. In Connor's case, having sex with Eve was just as important as eating and drinking.
"Right?" The girl asked, touching Murphy's hand. He pulled it away, the butterfly feeling in his stomach returning. He could have sworn that they would rip out of his belly and escape. It was almost painful.
"I s'pose…" He mumbled. The girl's eyes brightened again, a smile forming on her face. Her hand went up to her mouth to hide her teeth, and Murphy just frowned at her, not sure why anyone would hide their smile.
"I'm Shae." The girl said, her grin still wide behind her hand.
"Murphy." He responded, not sure if he was supposed to shake the hand of a girl in this day and age, or what. "Right, well, I should prob'ly go find somewhere to put this…" He fingered the gun in his pocket, wondering where to hide the thing away. "And den some booze." He gave Shae a curt wave, turning to go, and pushing his shaggy hair off of his forehead.
"Hey," Shae called after him. He turned slowly, pulling the cigarette away from his mouth. The only way he felt he could calm the butterflies—not even his; they were Connor's fucking bugs, floating in his stomach, Connor's giddiness from being with Eve—would be to drown them. With either a lot of beer or a lot of whiskey. Whichever he could get his hands on.
"My place is up there." She pointed up to a rather expensive looking apartment building. That would explain her shoes… "If you want a drink." She shrugged and he did, too. Free booze was better than no booze. He didn't have any cash on him except the stolen wad of hundreds he had pulled off the Russian that Shae hadn't taken. He glanced at the apartment building again, figuring that she didn't really need the cash, even if it was a thousand plus. What would she do with hundreds of most-likely dirty hundred dollar bills?
"Sure." He said, nodding. She beckoned him back and he returned to her, her hand around his elbow.
"It's cold, isn't it?" Shae asked, tugging him along. He nodded vaguely. It was always cold in Boston, even in the fucking summer.
Murphy had no idea why this girl was being so touchy. She didn't have any reason to even like him—he was a killer, they had sort of talked about this. He glanced down at the girl again, still holding his elbow, as if he was escorting her somewhere, and the butterflies came back again. He touched his stomach, hating Connor and his stupid bugs. Shae must have noticed that he was holding his stomach.
"Are you hungry?" She asked, reaching over to touch his stomach as well. He breathed in deeply, the butterflies fighting their way into his lungs, making it hard for him to breath. What the hell was Connor doing? Murphy stayed quiet, pulling his stomach away from her hand, wishing she wouldn't touch him. That disgusting floating feeling amplified when she touched him, and he didn't want to keep feeling something so extreme, that close to his lungs. He glanced up at her, seeing her worried face close to his, and realized that she had asked him a question.
"Uh... I s'pose..." He mumbled, pulling his hand up to bite at his nail.
"Do you want me to make you something to eat?" She asked, a smile forming in the corner of her mouth, only to be covered up by her hand. "I make a really good steak. Good chicken and rice, too." She said, petting his arm. He pulled his own arm away from her, the feeling coming back into his stomach. If she kept grabbing at him he was going to throw up.
"Sure," he mumbled. "No, ya don' have to." He corrected, turning to go. "It was nice to meet you, Shae." He mumbled, a finger coming up to his mouth to chew on the nail.
"No, no, please." Shae begged, reaching out to touch Murphy's hand again. "Please, let me feed you. I want to. I'm paying you back for saving me. Please." Murphy sighed loudly, really wanting to eat, but not wanting to be submit to the amplifications of the butterflies. He looked around the still empty street. "You saved me, Murphy. Let me feed you, pay you back. This is going to drive me insane for the rest of my life if you don't let me. Please...?" Murphy sighed again and nodded, not sure what else to do. She reached out to him and he pulled away, not wanting that feeling again. She frowned at him and waved a hand at him, beckoning him forward, not asking questions. He followed her quietly, tossing the butt of his cigarette down to the ground and picking another one out of his pack, and tucking it into his mouth without lighting it. Shae watched him quietly, and opened the door of the apartment building's lobby, Murphy reaching around her and holding it for her, always a gentleman. She smiled at him, showing no teeth and lead him to an elevator.
The two stood in awkward silence as Shae pushed the button for the eleventh floor, and silence more as it ascended the tower. On the door of Shae's apartment, a yellow paper flier was hanging, informing Shae that her rent was due. She pulled it off quickly, grumbling something incoherent, and dug in her purse for her keys. She pulled the door open and Murphy again, held it open for her, watching the short pretty girl walking past him.
"Do you want chicken?" She asked quietly, headed for the kitchen, pulling her stiletto heels off and tossing them into the corner of the kitchen before going to the sink and washing her hands.
"Wha' if I was a murderer?" Murphy responded, ignoring her question. "Why would you invite a stranger into yer house? I told you tha' I killed people, and you still insisted on feeding me. Is there somethin' wrong with ye?" Shae laughed, shrugging and going to the fridge.
"I don't think that you're a murderer." Shae said, holding the chicken up to him as he pulled out a chair from her dining set. "I like you. I like what you and your brother do. It needs to happen..." She smiled lightly, turning to glance at him. He continued to stare at her, an intimidating look on his face. "You guys have saved me before, you know." Murphy raised an eyebrow, still watching her, head turned slightly to one side. "You killed a bunch of Russians. I was there." She glanced down at her feet. Murphy shrugged vaguely. "They were going to kill me." Again, she shrugged, looking up at Murphy. "If they hadn't done... whatever... to piss you off, than I would be dead. I've been following you two ever since... For the past eight years. Maybe I've even been obsessed." Murphy raised his eyebrow again, just watching her in silence. What the hell was wrong with this girl? She had seen him kill people. She had heard him talk about killing people. He really didn't seem like the nice kind of guy that you could just invite into your house and ask to feed. He didn't even look like a nice guy. Eve told him that he was cute—all the time, in fact. But that was only because she knew him. If she hadn't known him, he was pretty sure that she would hate both Murphy and Connor.
He stayed quiet, just watching her as she put together a meal. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, still sucking on his unlit cigarette. She turned to look at him, sneaking a peek awkwardly. He smiled at her, trying to stop being so negative. When he thought about it, this was a pretty good situation he was in. He got to be out of the cold weather, the icy rain that was destined to come, and he was being cooked for by a beautiful woman in a short skirt. Not that he would think about her like that—oh, no, he was a good Catholic boy. Shae flushed brightly upon seeing his smile, and turned around again, returning to the frying pan.
"Oh," She said, quietly. "I promised you booze, didn't I?" He laughed quietly as she opened her freezer, pulling out a bottle of vodka, then finding a small glass in a cupboard. "I have scotch somewhere... I just don't know where..." She handed him the glass and the bottle, giving him a quick smile before looking away.
"Ya goin' to join me?" He asked, holding out the bottle to her. She smiled again, holding her hand against her lips.
"I shouldn't. Let me cook, and then I'll think about it, alright, hon?" He laughed again, pouring himself a little glass and knocking it back quickly. They were silent again, the only sound was the cooking, chicken breast frying, rice cooking and vegetables boiling. "Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Saint?" Shae asked, her voice small and quiet, much like Murphy's.
"Nope." Murphy said, quietly. "Celibacy and the like." He smiled at her back, wanting her to turn around. He felt this odd infatuation with her, loved her bright eyes and her odd accent. She spoke well, but the way she said her R's and L's sounded like a combination of Russian and Irish. "Wha' about you?" Murphy asked, smiling at her still. She turned around, smiling lightly, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.
"I'm straight." She said, giving a little laugh. He smiled too.
"I meant a boyfriend." Murphy verified. She looked down at her tights-clad feet, smiling still.
"I'm married to my job." She said, still smiling at her pretty little feet. Murphy watched her, almost sad that she had said that. He almost wanted her to say 'no'. It wasn't that he necessarily wanted a girl. He had seen girls change guys... Especially his brother. Maybe he was just a little sore about the whole situation, but that didn't mean that Connor hadn't completely snubbed Murphy. Eve still tried to bring Murphy into the relationship, wanted Murphy to still be important to Connor, but Connor was fixated. Murphy sighed quietly, pondering, still.
Connor was seriously different than how he had been before. Before they went to Ireland, too. Before he wasn't as big an asshole as he was now. Now, Connor was an S-Class douche bag, as Eve put it. That wasn't Eve's fault though. On top of that, Connor was pissier. He got angry even when Murphy was just joking around. He and Eve would joke about giving each other strip teases, and Connor would freak out. He started bitching at Murphy earlier this evening. He had punched Murphy. In the face. And he was just fucking around with Eve. Sure, he had started giving Eve a strip tease—not a very good one, but he had still gotten his shirt off, with Eve sitting on the couch, laughing her ass off, drinking wine. Murphy had been singing Eve "Happy Birthday," pretending to be Marilyn Monroe, and Eve had been the President. Connor didn't find it as funny as Eve and Murphy did.
None of this meant that Murphy wasn't jealous of what Eve and Connor had. He didn't like being the third wheel, especially when they went out for drinks. Sometimes they brought Romeo along, but generally speaking, Murphy and Romeo couldn't hang out together without Connor, he didn't know why, it just felt weird. But he wanted something, too. He wanted someone to love. He wanted someone to go to when he was forced to deal with the aloneness he hadn't had to suffer through since he was born—as he was the older one, he had decided, and even that was just for a fleeting minute before out popped little Connor, screaming his head off.
"Hon?" Came Shae's voice. He looked up at her, biting his lip, still holding the vodka glass in front of him oddly. A wonderful smelling plate was set in front of him and in front of the seat next to him. She sat next to him, watching him still. He watched her, too, raising an eyebrow. "Are you going to eat?" She asked, watching him watch her, an odd matronly look on her face. He picked up the fork awkwardly and she mimicked him, taking a bite of the same vegetable as he did, then moved to the meat, then to the rice, sampling a small bite of each.
"Tha's amazing." He said, taking a bigger bite. Shae smiled widely at him, hand going up to her mouth, and stood up again and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.
"Do you want some?" She asked, holding up the bottle. He shrugged, and she laughed, grabbing two glasses out of a cupboard. She walked back to the table, leaning across to pour him a glass, her fingers lingering, grazing against Murphy's as he took it from her, raising his eyebrow at her again. She was odd. Maybe he just couldn't read women. Maybe he was in the dark. Shae took a small sip of her wine, pushing her plate away. Murphy took a sip of the deep red wine, trying to decide if he liked the taste or not. He preferred whiskey and beer to any of this fancy stuff, even though she was a girl, and probably only drank the girly stuff. She stood after a few more minutes, Murphy slowly finishing his dinner.
"I'll be right back... Okay?" Shae asked, quietly, standing up again and disappearing into a room on the far side of the dining room and kitchen. He took another swig of the wine, still not sure if it was good or not and returned to the vodka. He wondered what he was supposed to do once this all ended. After he ate, after he left this place, would they ever see each other again?
What was he supposed to do when he left? Was he supposed to just accept that he would most likely never see this odd girl who had appeared in his life out of nowhere? He could leave Eve's number. Try to see her again. He just didn't know why she would call him. Did she want to see him again? Most likely not. He was just some odd Irish guy who had appeared out of nowhere into her life, even if he had saved her. Not that she would really have died without him. She would have been fine.
But Murphy. Murphy was smitten. He liked the dark haired girl. Her bright eyes excited him. Made him stare. He hoped she hadn't noticed.
"I was thinking..." Came her voice. He turned toward her voice, hoping that she wasn't a mind reader. She stood before him, leaning against the door frame, her legs crossed daintily. Naked. Murphy very nearly spit his drink of Vodka onto the floor but caught himself and turned quickly away.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked, a lot louder than he had meant it to be, after he swallowed the alcohol.
"You saved my life. I need to thank you..." She said, frowning at his back as he pulled his hands up to his face, setting the cold appendages against his hot and blushing face. He was terribly tempted to turn back around and look at her—he wanted to touch her—but he knew he wasn't allowed to. He was a good Catholic boy. He could control himself. "I figured since without you, I wouldn't have my body... You could have it." He took a deep breath, still not looking at her. He heard her bare feet padding on the floor and stared down at his feet, very nearly hyperventilating. She moved in front of him and he realized that he could see her body in his peripheral vision, and looked up at her face, forcing himself to look at her face, to not focus on the important parts hanging beautifully just in his sight. She reached to his shoulders, grabbing the back of his chair and turned it so that he was facing her, stupidly staring up at her. "I want you to have it." She whispered, stepping closer to him and moving her legs so that she was straddling his hips and sliding her arms around his shoulders. He stood abruptly and pushed her away, as usual, a little harder than he had meant it.
But what the hell else was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to just give in? To have sex with her? Was that even what she was telling him he could do? Was he just missing the point? They had only just met an hour ago. Could she really be coming this abruptly onto him? What else could she be offering him? She was standing naked before him, had clambered all over his idiotic form, and had said that she was giving him her body.
"I'm sorry, Murphy..." She said, her voice catching oddly in her throat. Murphy's hand went up to his mouth, and he turned around so her pale body wasn't even in his peripheral vision. "Whats the matter?" He shook his head, and Shae reached out to touch his shoulder.
"Could you please put some clothes on?" Murphy asked, the butterflies appearing in his stomach again at her touch. He felt her hand slightly pull away, felt her tense up.
"Why don't you want me? I mean, you're a guy, right? You aren't gay, are you?"
"No, I'm not." Murphy responded, still not looking at her. "Please, put something the fuck on."
"Why don't you want me?" Shae asked again, pulling on Murphy's coat, trying to make him look at her. Her voice sounded sad, hurt.
"I don' know... I wouldn' know what to do..." Murphy mumbled, avoiding her eyes, avoiding looking at her when she succeeded in turning him around. Her fingers reached out, touched his cheeks lightly, making him look at her. Watching his eyes with her own.
"Are you a virgin?" He stared at her in shock for a few seconds before figuring that she was serious. He shook his head, biting his lip and looking away. "Do you want me?" Murphy bit his lip, not sure what to do, like always. Was he allowed to say yes? Was it bad if he did want her? He wanted her badly. The butterflies in his gut felt like they were going to start ripping out of there angrily. He felt so anxious, he could feel his hands getting damp with nervousness. Shae's hands caressed his cheek, a thumb running across his lip. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to want her. He nodded, involuntarily.
Shae's hand found Murphy's and she took it softly, leading him to the room she had exited from, her bedroom. "I can teach you." She said, smiling at him, her face sultry and calm.
Shae pushed him onto the bed, sitting on the edge in quiet confusion. She knelt at his feet, and he stared at her, his eyebrow quirked in confusion. The laces of his boots came undone, and they were pulled from his feet, tossed aside, Shae smiling up at him, bit her lip oddly. Next, his socks came off and were tossed over to meet his shoes. Her hands trailed up the sides of his thighs, encased in the same trashy jeans he had been wearing since his old ones had gotten too disgusting to wear out in public, filled with holes and tears, stains of dirt, dried blood, and God only knows what else all over them.
She stood slowly, standing in front of him, waiting for Murphy to do something. He reached out and touched her sides, naked and soft, smelling of perfume and of sweat. She smelt like a hard day's work, and of men's cologne. He pulled her toward him, set his forehead against her stomach, not sure what to do now that he had her in his arms. She smiled, stroking a hand along his arm and over his shoulders, pulling on his jacket. She pushed it away from his shoulders and tossed it over to the side of the room, letting it join his shoes and socks. Murphy's breathing got heavy, the butterflies in his stomach making it hard for him to breathe again. His hands fell to his sides, pulling away from Shae. She smiled again, moving closer to him and straddling his hips once more. She pulled on the bottom of his t-shirt, smiling seductively.
"Do you want to tell me what you want?" She asked him, pulling the shirt over his head, lifting his arms up slowly, stroking along them. He shrugged as she stroked his pale skin, drawing lines along his chest with fingertips. "Do you want to kiss me?"Again, Murphy shrugged, one hand reaching up to her, hovering centimeters away from her arm. "Do you want me to kiss you?" This time his fingers touched her elbow, stroking the skin awkwardly. She sighed quietly, her arms tracing around his skinny shoulders to lean down to his neck with a series of soft little kisses. He stayed still, arms poised to coil around her without touching her. She caressed his arms, pulling them against her, encouraging him. "You can touch me." She said, her voice still quiet. She pulled away from him, to watch his confused and pretty face, a hand stroking his forehead, pushing his hair away from his eyes. She sighed, and reached behind her to take his hand, pulling it around to the front of her.
"What--" She shushed him quietly, spreading his shy fingers out, and pressing his hands against her stomach.
"Feel..." She mumbled. He looked at her, eyes wide in confusion, he obeyed quietly, letting her lead his hand over her body, stomach, ribs and up to her chest. He shied away from her breast, and she smiled, somehow knowing that he didn't feel comfortable with the feel of her womanly assets. She flattened his hand out against her breast, breathing heavily in at his cold fingers. He left his hand there, not sure what else to do. She let go of his hand and he pulled quickly away. She sighed softly and touched his cheek, stroking his face again. "What do you want me to do?" She asked him, her hands still against his pretty face, scruffy as it may be. "If you're too shy to touch me, I don't know what I'm supposed to do." He watched her in silence and she ran her hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back again. "Maybe we should just get you out of these?" Shae pulled on his belt buckle, showing she meant his pants. He raised his eyebrow at her, not sure what else to do, once again. He was very vague on the whole matter, he didn't know if he was supposed to touch her, if he was, where he was supposed to touch her. He didn't know if he was supposed to kiss her, and where if he was supposed to.
Shae stroked over his shoulders and down to his chest, pushing him onto his back gently. He laid awkwardly as she undid his belt buckle and pants, and eased him out of them slowly, leaving him in his too-big boxer shorts, making him look smaller than he did already.
She sat beside him and looked down at him with an almost sad smile, setting a hand on either side of his head, leaning over him to kiss at his chest, little halfway defined muscles peeking through his pale, tattooed skin. Murphy's hands found Shae's waist, pulled her close to him. She smiled at his touch, caressing his fingers on her own soft skin. His knees bent up awkwardly, and he pulled her hips over his own. She stepped over his hips, straddling his skinny waist. He stroked up along her curves, biting his lip awkwardly, shyly.
"I want..." He mumbled, his voice nearly gone. It caught in his throat and he cleared it with a swift cough, starting over. "I want..." He couldn't work up the nerve to tell Shae what he wanted, didn't know where to start, how to say it. He reached out to her, lifting her face up to him, his fingers hooked delicately under her jaw. He lifted his mouth up to hers, going to kiss her, only to feel his lips connect with her soft cheek.
"Not on the mouth, honey...." Shae whispered at him in explanation. He started to ask why before her teeth dug into his earlobe and her small, warm hand slid its way down his stomach and underneath his boxers, her little warm fingers wrapping around his member. He let out a little sound of shock, and Shae's mouth moved to his neck, warm and hot. "Is this okay?" She asked, quietly, looking up at him from his throat. He bit into his lip, face red. "What's wrong?" She ran a hand over his cheek, pulling her other hand away from between his legs.
"Nothin'... I'm sorry..." Murphy mumbled, pulling away and sitting up, going to get off the bed. "I should go..." Shae reached out, took his hand as he stood awkwardly beside the bed, fixing his shorts.
"No, you don't have to go, Murphy... What did I do wrong?" Shae asked, that same begging look on her face that she had shown him so long ago... He glanced at a clock. Okay, so only an hour and a half. But it seemed so long ago. His stomach felt sore again, the butterflies back again. He groaned at them, wishing they would leave him the fuck alone, and letting go of her hand in the process.
"Yer fine." He mumbled, not looking at her, glaring fixedly at the sketch of a pair of hands clasped together, hanging on her wall. His hand drifted up to his mouth, and he bit into his finger. "Its just... I'm not... I don' know wha' to do... Yer so... I don' know." Shae stood slowly, reaching out to take his hand again. He watched her quietly and she dropped his pretty hand, her arms around his neck and pushing her hips close to his. He looked at her in confusion, one hand going to set on her lower back. She smiled at him slyly, hiding her mouth from him after a second, looking down. He pushed his hand against her back, reaching to touch her chin. "Why do you do that?" Murphy murmured, watching her face. She shook her head softly, shoulders rising and falling cutely. She pushed her chest against his, and he turned redder, stroking her cheek with a thumb.
"I want to make you feel good..." She whispered, stroking the back of his neck. "Tell me what you want... Okay?" He bit his lip lightly and she watched him, a thoughtful look on her face. "Show me." She whispered, again, her little voice sensual and low. Murphy pulled her face up again, looking her over quietly before pushing his mouth onto her's lightly. She pulled only slightly away before giving into his mouth. He pulled her pale, curved body up against his. Shae's hands moved across Murphy's shoulders, and her mouth moved away from his, Murphy's hand falling from her cheek. She moved her mouth to his neck, biting his throat lightly before kissing him and sucking against the pale skin. He ran a hand over her back, not sure what else to do. She gave a little laugh, reaching down his front to pull on the top of his boxers.
"Is this okay?" She asked. Murphy pulled her face back up to look at her, before pushing his mouth against hers again. She pushed his shorts down his legs, kissing him back with a smile. Murphy stepped out of and kicked his shorts away from him, all his shyness suddenly gone. His hands moved along her back, over her ass, and across her shoulders. She smiled again against his mouth, and bit into his lip, her arms going up around his shoulders again. She pulled him toward her and toward the bed. He followed her step by baby step.
Murphy felt sickly anxious, not sure why, the floating feeling in his stomach nearly choking him. He was scared he was going to throw up, they were torturing his gut so fiercely, which was just making him more nervous, making them worse. It was at this point that he realized that all those butterflies from before belonged to him, not Connor. He pulled his mouth softly away from Shae's, still holding her softly. She raised her eyebrow at him, touching his cheek again.
It was the same feeling that Connor got when he was with Eve. Connor was in love with Eve. Was Murphy in love with Shae? It was far too early to tell, wasn't it? He touched his stomach lightly, and Shae continued to watch him with the same worried look. Murphy stepped away from her, hand going up to cover his mouth. He was in shock with himself. Did he seriously feel something so strongly for this odd Russian girl? He looked her over, reached out and stroked her cheek, still holding onto his stomach. Again, he felt like he was falling. He felt something. Was it love? He pushed a hand against his forehead. How long had he known her? He glanced up at the clock again. 9:47. It had been an hour and forty-seven minutes. Did he believe in that bullshit? 'Love at first sight?' He didn't think that he did. He looked at her again, watching him like he was insane.
"I'm sorry..." He said again, biting his lip. Shae moved toward him, as he had begun pacing, chewing on his thumbnail.
"What's the matter, Muirnin?" Murphy raised an eyebrow at her. He had known that he had heard Irish in her accent, he shook his head, realizing that that didn't really matter at this point. 'Sweetheart...' He thought quietly, mentally translating her Gaelic into English. He shook his head again, looking around for his shorts, planning on getting out before he did anything stupid that he would have to regret. He leaned down and picked them up, only for Shae to touch his hand. "What's the matter? If you don't want me just say it, Murphy... Am I doing something wrong?" He shook his head again, reaching out to touch her cheek lightly.
"I don' fuckin' know..." He mumbled. She frowned at him, touching his arm and leaning forward to kiss his cheek.
"Please, Murphy." She whispered, kissing him lightly on the mouth, now. He kissed her back, stroking her chin gently. "I want you to want me." He frowned at her. Why didn't she understand how badly he wanted her? He wanted her so badly he thought he was going to be sick. He wanted more than just her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to have her. To call her his. Was he allowed to say that? Would she hate him if he did? He bit his lip, again, figuring there were probably some dark marks where he kept biting at it.
"I do." He mumbled. "I want you so bad." He gave a short laugh, going back to biting his nail. She gave him another smile, covering her mouth with a hand quickly. He frowned lightly, wishing she wouldn't hide the smile from him.
"I'm trying to give me to you..." She whispered, pressing her naked body against his own, kissing his mouth lightly, after pushing his hand away from his mouth. "Take it, Sweetie." He smiled lightly and kissed her back. Maybe she wouldn't hate him. Maybe he could wait. He didn't have to tell her how he felt. He could just imply it over the next few months... Would they even ever talk again? When he thought about it, he didn't really think she would care to see him again. He had started out being a real dick to her, and it wasn't like she had shown any interest in him or anything. He sighed lightly, his arms tighter around her waist. She tugged on his shoulders, pushing her mouth harder against him, and pulled him toward the bed. He followed her lead, a hand sliding down her back Her knees hit the bed and she fell, pulling him down on top of her. He held himself awkwardly over her, mouth still pressed onto hers, trying to show that he.... What? Loved her? He had no fucking clue what he felt. It was pretty much a lost cause. Another sigh. Shae pushed her hips up against his, making him blush and take a deep breath in. She grinned, biting his lip. One of her hands sneaked down his side, and down between his legs, rubbing him lightly again. He blushed brighter when he got hard and she just kissed him again, happy that she had achieved easily what she wanted. He thought it would be a lot harder for him to... Seeing as he didn't get much 'action'. He was way out of practice. He barely remembered what sex felt like... Apparently pretty good, though, as he was really starting to enjoy the feeling of butterflies cutting off the circulation to his head... or maybe it was all the blood rushing from his brain and to a different part of his body.
He looked down at Shae, and she looked quickly away. He frowned, leaning down to kiss her perfect mouth again. She really was a gorgeous girl, he touched her lip lightly with a finger, tracing the outline of her lower lip. She smiled lightly, and rolled him onto his back, moving on top of his naked hips. Leaning over him, she reached underneath the pillow, pulling out an Altoids tin, and from it extracting a condom. She tossed the tin over to a desk in the corner, tearing the package of the condom quickly and tossing it over the side of the bed. Murphy reached out and touched her wide hips, stroking up along her ribs. He was anticipating her body, how she would feel. He wanted her, and he wanted her now. She rolled the condom over his hard-on professionally, and he groaned up at her, the sensation making his whole chest hurt... It felt amazing.
He sat up, wrapping her up in his arms, pulling her against him. He pushed his mouth on hers, kissing her deeply. She smiled, kissing him back, her hand still wrapped around the base of him. She slipped him into her, sliding down him slowly, a leg around his waist, the other bracing her up. Murphy's fingers slid along her sides and down her leg, feeling every aspect of her body, just wanting her. He loved the way she felt, breathing heavily against his mouth as he breathed right back. He clung to her groaning quietly as Shae moved on him, pulling him deep into her, her hands setting on his shoulders.
"Shae..." He mumbled, his voice strained, not sure why, just feeling like he needed to say something. She smiled lightly, stroking his cheeks. He pushed his mouth up against hers again, kissing her deeply. She bit at his lips lightly, still stroking his cheeks. One of Murphy's hands wandered across her stomach, stroking with gentle fingertips, finding her chest. He cupped one of her large breasts, his thumb running across her nipple before he pulled his hand away, figuring he was doing it wrong anyways.
Shae smiled at him, running a hand down over his chest, fingers drawing shapes against his skin. He frowned at her, with a quiet groan before pulling her close to him again and pushing her onto her back, moving back on top of her and pushing into her. She gave a quiet moan, a hand going up to her mouth as if it was accidental. Murphy pushed his mouth against her neck, trying to get her to enjoy it. He didn't know how long he could go on, and he wanted her to feel good, too, wanted her to want him.
Shae's legs tightened around Murphy's waist. She moaned again quietly, her arms sliding around his shoulders. She reached to him, pulling his mouth up to hers again, kissing him deeply, fervently. Murphy groaned lightly, biting into her lip, trying to keep himself from finishing before... he didn't know what he was waiting for. Would she tell him? Was he supposed to read her mind, just know when she was done?
"Shae...?" He asked, breathing so heavily he could barely speak. She bit into his mouth again, stroking his shoulders. Murphy felt her, deep inside her, throb. Her muscles tightening all over her body, her legs tightening again. What the fuck was happening to her? He pulled away to look at her face, trying to figure out if he was hurting her, only to feel his own body stop short. His stomach clenched up, and he finished with a loud groan. He held himself over her for a few seconds, breathing deeply, so confused. "I'm sorry...." He mumbled, touching her cheek. He fell, his body feeling so weak. "I'm sorry..." He whispered again, mouth against her shoulder. Shae's arms tightened around him, hand petting his hair, damp with sweat.
"It's okay, sweetheart..." She whispered back, holding him quietly, her arms so warm against Murphy's hot body. Murphy's hands ran along her sides gently, wanting to touch her even if he didn't feel like moving. "Hon?" Shae asked quietly. Murphy groaned quietly, figuring she was going to tell him to get up and get out. Would she really just throw him out into the cold like that? He hoped that she wouldn't-- "Can I see you again?" She asked. Murphy smiled widely, clinging to her ribcage.
"Aye..." He mumbled, sighing deeply. She held him tightly, still petting his damp hair, humming quietly.