Baby, be gentle, this is my first smutty story and I was drunk when I wrote it. I still am drunk. God, this is terrible. Of all the smutty things I can write, I chose twincest.

Mmmmm Murphy.

Alright, on with the story. Review and I will forever love you.

Oh, goodness knows I dont own the Saints or the movie or anything but the PWP within. I probably dont even own that.

And shepherds we shall be, for thee, my lord, for thee
Power hath decended forth from thy hand
That our feet may swiftly carry out thy command
So we shall flow a river forth to thee
And teaming with souls shall it ever be

In Nomine Patris
Et Fili
Et Spiritus Sancti

His back slams against the wall, Connor's hand against his chest, and he lets out a startled gasp. Lungs fighting for air, he reaches a hand up to push his brother away, anger flaring in his eyes. Connor slaps his hand and he pulls back, glaring with accusing eyes. One hand is still firmly pressing against Murphy's shoulder, and the younger twin relaxes, his shoulders falling.

"What were you thinkin'? You could 'ave been killed!" Connor snaps, tightening his grip on Murphy's shoulder.

"And you couldn't?" Murphy demands.

Connor considers this for only a moment. In their line of work, if it can be called work, they are under constant fire from big guys with bigger guns. Danger is their middle name, as is their father's. It is in his footsteps that they follow blindly, taking the word of God and pressing it into their own reality. Killing the greedy mafioso wherever they pop their vermin heads out of is their own thoughts of justice. Where the cops fail, the Saints take over.

The Saints oft forget they are mortal.

Murphy shrugs against Connor's hand. "Let me go, yeah?"

"Don't you fuckin' make me worry like that," he snaps.

"If you had yer head in the game and not up the lass' skirt, ya wouldn't have to!" Murph shoots back, smacking Connor's hand away. Storming into the motel room, he grabs his duffel bag and rips one of his pistols out, disassembling it and slamming it to the desk. Tugging the cleaning cloth from its home in his bag, he wipes it over the barrel half-heartedly.

"This is about the girls, then, ay?" Connor asks, lighting a cigarette. He breathes out smoke, flipping his lighter shut and tucking it back into his pocket. "You're always so predictable."

"Shut up."

"No. Yer jealous, are ya?"

"Shut up, Connor!" he warns, dropping the cloth and setting the barrel back on the desk.

"What's wrong, am I hittin' yer buttons?"

Murphy rounds on his brother, ready to take a swing at him, but the older twin grabs his wrist and twists it to the side. Crying out, Murphy turns with the movement and pushes his brother to the floor, tripping and falling with him.

"Fuck you!" he shouts angrily, hitting his brother across the face.

Connor catches the next punch, rolling his brother over, pinning him to the ground. "Murph, calm down!" he demands, straddling his hips. "Calm down, okay? I'm just fuckin' with you."

"Well I'm sick of it," Murphy growls.

"You're always sick of it, Murph," Connor points out, patting his brother on the cheek. He leans down to kiss his brother on the lips, watching those bright eyes widen in surprise.

"What the..."

Giving his younger half no time to bitch, he kisses him again, enjoying the taste of cigarettes on his brother's lips, half imagining the sensual kiss back. His hand moves up Murphy's neck, into his hair as his fingers massage his scalp. Pressing further, he pulls Murphy's head back, elating in the gasp from the younger's lips. It is only as the gasp breaks the kiss that Connor realizes Murphy is reacting positively. There is no doubt in his mind that his younger brother can kick his ass if he wants to, that there is no reason Murphy needs to be on his back on the floor of this motel with Connor stradeling him.

"You like it," Connor whispers, biting his brother's ear.

"Fuck off, Con."

Releasing his brother's hair, he lets his hand slink down the well-toned body, a mischievous grin on his face. Sliding his hand up Murphy's shirt, he runs both hands down the younger's sides, fingers hooking onto his jeans and pulling down. The material slides down Murphy's hips, and he surprises Connor by shifting his hips to allow them to slip further down. Connor rubs over Murphy through his faded blue boxers, feeling the shivers rushing up and down his body.

Murphy stops him, grabbing his wrist. "Now you," he says, breathing heavily.

"What?"

Propping himself up on one elbow, Murphy grabs at the fabric of Connor's shirt and tugs it up. As the shirt comes off, their lips meet again, and Murphy's fingernails drag across his brother's back, pulling him down to the floor. Their hips grind together, Connor leading his twin into the movements with little encouragement. Murphy picks up quickly, easily shedding his own shirt and tossing it to the side. Tracing the scars along his brother's skin, Connor hesitates with mixing looks passing behind his eyes. Murphy's hand dips down the front of his jeans, touching, teasing, and Connor shivers as he lets out a gasp. Catching his lips in a kiss, Murphy works the button free, pushing the jeans down around Connor's hips,. His hand moves along Connor's cock, effectively distracting the older twin as he gasps shuddering breaths onto Murphy's lips, eyes fluttering in pleasure.

Rolling Connor to the floor, Murphy straddles his twin's hips, hand never leaving his erect shaft. The older twin arches his back, gasping at the touches, completely lost in the moment. Murphy touches his lips to Connor's, dropping kisses down his chest, moving steadily lower until his lips touch against the tip of Connor's cock, the moan drifting through his ears. Connor's hand tangles in Murphy's short hair, pulling him closer as he moans, biting back his pleasure least he shout his twin's name into the motel room.

Pausing, Murphy reaches up to tap Connor's chin. "Its okay, Con. Y'can make a little noise."

Letting his breath out, the older twin shakes slightly. "Lay off," he growls, gasping as Murphy's lips slide down his shaft. Arching his back, he grabs his brother's hair, but Murphy bats his hand away and licks up the length of his cock, tongue circling the tip before he slides up his brother, kissing his jaw. He licks his lips, a fire dancing in his eyes as his hand reaches down to tease his brother.

Grabbing his wrist, Connor flips Murphy to the floor, pulling down his boxers. Murphy kicks his boxers and jeans off as Connor presses against him, their bodies aching with pleasure at what they can have. Under his fingertips, Murphy tingles and moves with the touches. Connor's hands trail down his twin's sides, gripping his hips as he thrusts. Murphy's gasps are muted as he bites his wrist, reaching back to pull Connor's hand to his throbbing cock. The touch sends shivers down his spine as he moans, Connor thrusting and pumping, his low moans tickling Murphy's ears. The ringing in his ears grows as he nears his climax, shuddering as his muscles spasm. Hitching, he gasps out, calling his twin's name as he reaches the peak of his climax. Connor shudders, pressing himself as close to Murphy as he can get as he breathes out, slumping over his twin's back.

The pair shake, raspy disbelieving gasps rattling their cores. Pulling out, Connor slumps to the floor, rolling onto his back. Murphy lays face down, enjoying the pleasant aftershocks spinning through his body. He snorts, shaking his entire body with the movement. A second later, he starts chuckling. Connor reaches over and lazily smacks him, eyes closing as he lets out a laugh.

"Fuck's so funny?" he asks.

"Fuck off," Murphy snorts.

"Tell me."

"I fucking love you, Conn."

"You're so gay."

Rolling onto his side, Murphy reaches out to touch Connor's fingertips. "Feels good," he points out.

Connor's fingers wrap around his brothers, a grin playing across his face. "Yes, it fucking does."