Come On Brother
By Antarshakes
"Come on, brother, slow it down. Let me see those muscles flex." Connor's voice filters through from somewhere behind him.
Murphy can't see him, but he has a clear mental picture of Connor sitting on his own bed; smirk on his face, dick in hand, as he heckles and coaches Murphy.
Right. Coaches.
Murphy thrusts deeper, slower, slipping an arm under the girl's lower back to get her closer. By now, it's more about performing for Connor than getting 'it' right.
"Now, now, Murph," Connor continues, "Steady, steady. That's right."
He must have done something right because the girl lets out a breathy moan.
"Right there boy-o. That right there, that's the sound of ya doing somethin' right. Keep at it."
Murphy can't help the grunt that escapes him, Connor's voice and approval working him up just as much as the glorious heat wrapped around his cock. He tries to find that angle again, slow, steady, deep, grind. Sweat is pooling and gliding down his back, down his crack and the girl's breathing speeds up, moans getting louder, heart thudding and he can feel the rhythmic clenching around his cock. Feckin hell.
"Open yer eyes, Murph. Look at what y're doin'. Look at the beautiful woman under ya and what y're doing to her."
It isn't until Connor calls him on it, that Murphy realizes he had his eyes closed, concentration entirely directed to make it good for her, good for Connor. When he opens his eyes, he sees how his thrusts are making her tits bounce up and down, up and down; she has one hand clenched in her hair, other hand scratching down his back, gliding in his sweat, working her hips up against his, meeting his thrust and shuddering. She's shuddering.
He gets another flash of Connor jerking himself off behind in eyes; holding on to his dick, cupping his balls, gaze fixed on Murphy, watching him fuck. It's almost enough to get him over the edge and he can feel it starting, balls drawing up, thrusts getting erratic as he fucks the girl through her orgasm. That must be it, right? 'Y'll know it, Murph. Y'll feckin know it.'
"Stop." Connor's order cuts through his haze immediately, entire body seizing and it's causing him effort and actual pain, pain, to not continue thrusting and getting there himself.
"That's right, brother, ya did good. Now back up." Connor's voice is somewhere closer now and Murphy can imagine his bodily heat behind him. He can feel sweat beading, rolling down his temple as he shakily holds on to the condom, 'Don't be a fool, Murph, wrap yer tool!', and draws out. He hisses when his dick is out in the open again and he can't help but let out a breathy, "Conn,". He's beyond embarrassment now.
Before he can register anything, another hand is meeting his own on his cock, swiftly rolling the condom up. A heat joins him at his back, thighs touching the back of his thighs.
Connor's hand is there, right there, moving lazily up and down his cock, swiping the head on every upstroke and Murphy can't take it: he's panting, all muscles tensed up, leaning back against Connor's chest. It's too much.
"Open yer eyes, Murph. Open yer eyes and look at what ye did."
Shit, he hadn't realized his eyes were closed again and we he opens them, his eyes land immediately on the girl. She's lying there: flushed red, chest heaving, nipples peaked, legs still parted, hand in her sweaty hair and she's giving him, them, a lazy smile. How did he even forget what had just happened, what he'd just done; how did he forget about her.
His eyes close again on their own accord when Connor grips him tighter, noses at his neck, breathes hot breath against his ear. He can feel Connor's dick, a hot press against his back, sliding against him and he pushes back into it. Connor's grip gets tighter at that and he speeds up his strokes, murmuring: "Ya did good. Ya did damn good. Job well-feckin-done. Let go, brother. Let go, Murph."
With that in his ear, sweaty back gliding against Connor's chest, Connor's dick sliding up and down his crack, Murphy let's go; fucking into his brother's fist, coming almost violently.
With one last kiss against his neck - and Murphy just knows it's right on the tattoo there - he can't even think about the implications of that, his brain just melted right outta his feckin dick, alright, Connor slowly lowers him back on to the mattress.
"Murph."
He thinks he's hearing Connor calling for his attention, but he just can't be arsed right now.
"Oy, Murph!" A wet hand slaps against his cheek and his eyes fly open to see Connor's face hovering above him, mischievous smirk in place. Murphy just knows, knows, it was that same come-covered hand. A groan, however, seems to be the only response he's capable of. For now.
"Y'alright there?" Murphy can hear the mirth in his voice clearly, could see the stupid grin accompanying that voice in his mind's eye if it wasn't inches from his own face right now. Murphy just gives him a lazy look and watches how the smile on his brother's face softens. His brother's gaze then cuts to the side and Murphy follows it, landing on the girl. She's giving them both a look he can't decipher, but when he looks back at Connor, he's smirking.
Connor looks at him again, then to the girl, to his own cock and back at Murphy, smile getting cockier and cockier. Murphy just knows what's coming.
"Say, girly, while we have ya here: who's the bigger one, ey?"
Murphy's "Fer chrissake, Conn," is lost in his brother's giggles.
End