Nicholas: I wrote this in Math class a while ago. I was very embarrassed when I caught my teacher looking over my shoulder at my notebook as I wrote. I'm not sure if she actually read any of it, but she just gave me a weird look and said "Do your work!"...This fic is sex. Not like the other stuff I write, this is like waaaaaaaaaaay gaaaaaaaaaaaay sex. Just thought I'd warn you...
Disclaimer: This never happened in the movie. It might actually have gotten that NC-17 rating Duffy narrowly avoided if this was in the movie.
Rating: M!!!!Very much M!!!...For sex...and a tad bit of language...but mostly sex...because you people love it or somethin'.
Connor stares…Every morning when he wakes up before Murphy, he stares without knowing why…without wanting to know why. His eyes tumble haphazardly over his twin's thin figure, scanning, memorizing, analyzing every dip, very curve and every flaw of the pale man's shape. This particular morning, Connor was staring for maybe an hour after a nightmare startled him awake. He felt guilty because he still had the image of Murphy's dead body plastered throughout the confines of his mind's eye. The city was dangerous, and he knew that. Sometimes he wanted to take his brother and hide him away—from danger, from life. He wouldn't have been able to if he tried. Murphy was too much of a free spirit to allow that. Connor sat up and tossed his feet off the side of his bed, facing the wall away from Murphy. He reached to the floor and grabbed his shirt to pull it on. Another flash of Murphy's death tore through his mind like lightning, making Connor look back to make sure the dark-haired twin was still asleep.
Murphy was silently stirring and then trying to sit up despite his sleep-smothered mind. He noticed Connor almost immediately and met the distant gaze with a tired smile. "Ya alright, Conn?" Connor just looked away from him. Now that was strange. Connor never left a concerned question unanswered. He never wanted some one to think he was anything other than "oh-b-kay-b." When Murphy was awake enough, he got up and went to sit next to his brother—basically crawling over the other's bed because he was too lazy to walk around. "What're ya thinkin' about?"
"I don' know," the blond replied quietly. Murphy though he could take the tone and snap it in two it was so thin. He saw Connor absently rub his nose and recognized the nervous tick. Connor was lying.
Out of impulse, Murphy put an arm around his troubled brother's shoulders. "Anythin' I should worry about?" He didn't want to press too hard, but curiosity and worry overtook him.
"I don' know."
"Conn—"
"I don' know!" Connor snapped to cut him off. "I don' know, okay? Jesus, Murph." The violence in him died as quickly as it had flared and he closed his eyes and sighed. When Murphy attempted to remove his arm from Connor's shoulders, Connor grabbed his hand gently and desperately. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry Murphy, I didn't mean to yell." He didn't was to be apart from his brother.
Murphy stared at him in confusion and contemplated the possible catalysts of Connor's behavior. It was probably something trivial like a nightmare or a panic attack that would pass soon enough. Connor was clinging desperately to Murphy, but he was also clinging to his only company and the half of his heart that he didn't want to lose. Murphy knew the weakness and the childish desperation would fade as soon as they stepped out of their door—knew that Connor only showed this side to his twin and no one else. In a way, Murphy relied on that knowledge. He needed his brother's dependence on him in order to think straight. As he thought, he forgot how many bad situations thinking straight had managed to get him in.
Both of Murphy's arms unconsciously wrapped around Connor's thin, strong frame now. Connor's breathing was getting deeper and more relaxed with the comfort of his brother's presence. He thought he might actually fall asleep until he noticed one of Murphy's hands fall from his shoulder. Connor let out a quiet gasp when he felt Murphy's thin fingers snake under his shirt and stroke his stomach lovingly.
"Murphy," Connor muttered urgently, "What're ya doin'?" He put a hand on his shirt to cover Murphy's beneath the tedious fabric. He looked his brother in the eyes, but then his eyes wandered and he noticed, on a strange train of thought, that Murphy had neglected to put on his shirt.
The dark-haired one ran his hand gently up Connor's chest earning a surprised shiver and then nuzzled his face into the crook of Connor's neck. "Should I stop? Just give the word and I'll go back to my own bed."
A splash of heat surged through Connor's body from his stomach. The blond dismissed the suggestion immediately. He wanted Murphy close to him right now…even this close. When he felt Murphy's fingers brush in circles around his nipple, his breath hiked. "I don'…I don' know." Connor leaned against Murphy, his breath speeding up slightly.
"D'ya trust me?" As soon as Connor nodded, Murphy planted his lips lightly on his brother's jaw. "Then trust me, brother. Just trust me." He pulled Connor back onto the mattress, ignoring the harsh squeaks and complaints of the springs trying to support the weight of both twins and straddled him carefully. Just as gently, he peeled off Connor's shirt and let his hands roam and wander along the tanned skin. A kiss here and a touch there and Murphy had his brother whimpering softly. A ticklish spot on Connor's side turned into a point where heat ran through the blond one when he brother stroked it tenderly.
"Murphy…I love ya." Connor's voice was little more than a soft whisper, but Murphy heard it and replied with a kiss to Connor's lips. It began as just a chaste peck, but the blond twin wrapped his arms around his brother's bare back and deepened it. Soon their lips were pressed together so tight that when Murphy opened his mouth, Connor's automatically did the same. Slightly hesitant, Murphy's tongue found it's way past teeth to lick gently at the roof of Connor's mouth. The mere idea of it drew a moan from Connor's tight throat.
Murphy reached up and smoothed the blond bangs from his brother's face. As Connor clung to his brother his emotions surfaced. Murphy could feel the desperation radiating from Connor's fingertips as they dug into the pale flesh on Murphy's back. He could taste the fear on his brother's tongue. "Are ya scared, Conn?" Murphy asked, but Connor only whined because the kiss had ended.
Without bothering to reply, Connor's hand locked itself into the dark hair at the base of Murphy's neck and the blond pushed his mouth against Murphy's. It was a hungry kiss and so desperate that Murphy had to actually hold himself up on his elbows. In a need to be as close as possible to his twin, Connor hooked a leg high up on Murphy's hip. The only reason Murphy had to pull away was so that he didn't suffocate in the feeling and the kiss that would consume him completely given the chance.
Connor pecked at Murphy's neck, holding on to his brother's back firmly. After adjusting to put all of his weight on one arm, Murphy put a hand between him and his twin to stroke Connor's inner thigh, just inside his boxers.
When Murphy's hand moved up to Connor's crotch, hips lurched slightly and the blond let out an approving groan. Murphy measured movement by sound. If Connor made any sound of protest when his fair-skinned brother slid off his boxers, Murphy would have stopped, got up and pretended nothing happened—no matter how hard that may have proved to be. That was hardly the case, though, so Murphy let the pesky pair of shorts and Connor's last piece of clothing fall to the floor. Connor did not say he liked this, but God knows, he didn't say he didn't like it—having Murphy's hand rub him and having Murphy's mouth not leave a bit of his skin unkissed.
Murphy's lips pecked at Connor's stomach almost teasingly while Connor tangled his fingers in the dark mop of hair on Murphy's head. "Connor?" It was a request, and the only person in the whole world who could have possibly understood it was Connor. The language they spoke—besides the seven different tongues they were fluent in—was more wordless hints than conversation.
"Please," was Connor's soft reply. As twins, they could usually guess what the other was thinking, almost like telepathy. Perhaps it was this understanding that made all of this easier for them. Perhaps it was Murphy's insistence that Made Connor submit to him. Perhaps it was a deep love that made them cling to each other in the heat of the moment.
It took both of Murphy's hands to hold Connor's hips down. Connor shut his eyes firmly when Murphy closed his lips around his arousal. A low moan forced its way past the blond's clench teeth. He face flushed scarlet red as a wave of pleasure spilled over his entire body. Murphy held firmly to Connor's hips to keep them down, his hands almost bruising the tanned tender flesh.
The fingers that gripped Murphy's hair in fists slowly grasped tighter and harsher the closer Connor came to that peak. Connor's back arched and his toes curled as Murphy's tongue worked. His chest rose and fell in accordance with his panting breath. "God, Murphy," he gasped along with some other inaudible words and noises that were magnified by Murphy's task. Connor took one hand from his brother's hair and clutched a handful of the mismatched sheets beneath him. In that same instant, Murphy reached up one hand up and put it over Connor's.
Just before Connor came, Murphy stopped and went back to kissing his brother's smooth, toned stomach. Connor let up on his grip in Murphy's hair and his hand relaxed in the sheets. Connor took a few deep breaths while his mind stopped spinning and jumping in circles. "Christ!" He exclaimed quietly.
Murphy just chuckled deep in his throat and ran his hands down his brother's thighs to cup the back of his knees. "Ya alright?" he asked softly. When Connor didn't reply, Murphy gently bent the other's knees and pulled his legs up slowly.
Connor struggled to prop himself up on his elbows as Murphy held his legs. "Murphy…" It was a plea and Murphy understood perfectly.
"Trust me, Conn." Murphy's voice was as tender and smooth as an Opera singer in her main aria. He adjusted awkwardly and pushed Connor's upper half back down to the bed. "Just trust me." Connor trusted him more than anything, and Murphy knew it because it was a mutual trust that had grown from the bond they'd shared from birth.
Connor was breathing heavily as he watched Murphy take off his shorts. A sudden silence hung in the air with an apprehension the matched what was buzzing around the blond's mind. Murphy pushed Connor's legs just a bit higher and Connor tried to keep from screaming when Murphy entered him. Thankfully, Murphy went slow enough that Connor only whimpered loudly in the midst of unimaginable pain. Once again, Connor's hand clenched the sheets while his other hand reached out and gripped Murphy's shoulder painfully tight. Murphy did not thrust at first, and Connor would have thanked him for that. With a slow, gentle rolling of his hips, Murphy eased Connor past the excruciating pain and sent his mind into loop-di-loops again.
Murphy had some trouble controlling himself. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his brother, so he went slow and carefully. Still, every moan Connor voiced and every squirm Connor made had Murphy speeding up ever so slightly. Unintentionally, Connor urged him on and soon he was calling out "God! Murphy!" over and over again in sync with Murphy's rhythm.
After maybe realizing how loud he was being, he took his hand from Murphy's shoulder and covered his own mouth. His fingers brushed a wetness on his cheeks and he realized he was crying. When he looked, he saw tears on Murphy's face as well. Connor reached up again and pulled Murphy as close to his chest a possible and it was Murphy's turn to whine. Murphy's short nails dug into Connor's legs as his thrusts grew harsher and more erratic. Connor clenched his eyes shut and felt the pale brother's hand on his arm now. He didn't know how much longer he could take it, no matter how much he didn't want Murphy to stop. It was getting harder and harder to hold back a shout because Connor didn't want the lady downstairs to hear. "Murphy." He couldn't form words other than the two familiar syllables that named his brother.
Murphy's last thrust was painfully rough and sloppy. Connor just barely swallowed a loud cry while Murphy's grip on his legs tightened sharply once more. After that, Murphy stilled abruptly, not able to go on. A beat passed before either brother could move, or blink, or even breathe. Murphy slowly withdrew himself from his twin and Connor let out a loud sigh accordingly. As Connor's legs once more fell to the bed, Murphy crawled over to lay beside him. With a plop and a grunt, Murphy met the sheets, utterly spent.
In the deep silence that followed, Connor took Murphy's right hand and tenderly kissed each inked letter of the word "aéquitas." "D'ya still trust me, Conn?" Murphy asked quietly, his breath airy—hardly a whisper. Connor didn't get the chance to answer, but they both knew. Connor would happily die for Murphy if it needed to be done, and he trusted that Murphy felt the same way.
Alicia McFarland had heard strange noises coming from the loft above her apartment. She had been standing in front of her neighbors' door for what felt like hours—but was actually only minutes—before she collected herself enough to knock. She didn't get a response at first, so she knocked again. There was a quiet thump from somewhere within the room beyond and the door creaked open.
A man with light hair and no shirt to hide his well-tanned, well-toned chest stood in the doorway. He held a can of beer in one hand and sported a pair of worn-out jeans that clung to his hips precariously. Alicia glance questioningly at his messy, blond hair, but didn't ask.
"You're MacManus, right?" her mouth let the question tumble from her mouth so that she wouldn't have to think. "Murphy?"
"Ah, no," the man said, "Murphy's me brother. I'm Connor." She noticed that he didn't open the door all the way.
"Oh, sorry." She shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Is he there?"
A suspicious look slithered onto Connor's face. "Why?" he asked; his voice almost seemed protective, but that passed quickly. "Ya aren't pregnant, are ya?" There was an indignant shout from somewhere past the door as Alicia face started to glow a hot pink.
She laughed lightly, slightly nervously, but cleared her throat to hide her amusement. She meant to say something as she shook her head, but another man appeared over Connor's shoulder. "Why the fuck does a lady comin' to the door askin' fer me lead you ta believe she's knocked up?"
Connor just smiled sneakily and took a long drink of beer. With that swallowed, he spoke again, ignoring his brother completely. "There somethin' ya need?"
"Uh…no…I just…I heard…." She blushed a brighter shade of red, feeling frustrated. "Sorry if I'm bothering you, just wanted to say 'hi'." Were she not being observed by two shirtless Irishmen—yes the lack of clothing had something to do with it—she would have smacked herself on the forehead.
"Oh, well…" Connor glanced a Murphy over his shoulder with a soft smirk and a shrug. "Ya want ta come in an' have a beer with us? Ya live a floor below us, right?"
"No…I mean yes!…I mean…shit." Taking a deep breath, she went on. "Yes, I live a floor down, no I don't think…I don't want to intrude…I…" She gave up on not babbling. "Never mind."
"Ya en't intrudin' in nothin'," Murphy stated, "We're bored anyway, come on in."
"Yeah, what could it hurt? We've lived in the same buildin' fer years already an' I think this is the first time we've actually ever met."
Alicia smiled. They were really nice guys. "No, thank you. I think I'll take a raincheck."