Murphy sat alone in the room that he would be, nay should be, sharing with his brother. He had taken the liberty of pushing the twin beds together in the hopes that Daryl would still push him away and Connor would come crawling back, drunk and horny.
So he sat. He watched the patterns that he would draw in the carpet with his toes, trying to make little animals or shapes and fairly succeeding. Looking at the clock, he realized it had been over half an hour. Standing up, he quickly walked across the room and opened the door, hoping to find his brother slumped against the wall next to it, too ashamed to come inside.
Instead he was met with emptiness and quiet. Murphy sighed, refusing to acknowledge the thought that his brother had succeeded in working his way into Daryl's bed. The hallway was dark save for the one doorway down the hall. The door to the room down the hall was open, so he crept down, peeking his head in, trying to remember who had taken this room. Shane lay prone on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, still fully clothed. "Oy," Murphy called out. "Why are ye still awake?"
Shane lifted his head up to look at the Irish man down the length of his body. "Could ask you the same thing. Why don't you go on back to your brother?"
"'Cause he's with Daryl." Murphy's head hung as he walked all the way into the open doorframe.
"Fuck," Shane breathed, closing his eyes. "They're really gonna start somethin', ain't they? Well shit."
Murphy shrugged. "Well he hasn't come back yet. Maybe they're just playin' checkers."
Shane snorted, sitting up on the bed a little too fast. Pressing his hand to his forehead, trying to still the swirling motion of the room, he motioned for the Irishman to come in. "Close the door wouldya? I'd hate to think I could hear the sounds of your brother and Daryl fuckin'. The last thing I want to hear is that redneck get off."
Murphy tried to ignore the hurtful remarks of the other as he stood awkwardly just inside the room. "Ye coulda closed the door when ye walked in ye know?"
"But then you wouldn't have stumbled into my room, wouldya have my little lucky charm?" Shane motioned him closer, looking at him hazily through lowered eyelids and booze-blown pupils. "You're my fuckin' lucky charm now, ain'tcha?"
"Ain't yer fockin' anything," he stated simply, not moving from his spot on the carpet but bracing himself to stand his ground.
Shane stood up on his shakey legs, pointed finger aiming for Murphy's chest as he stumbled closer to the other man. "Now, now. I broke your little cherry. You said it was better than you thought it was going to be. Don't lie to me, little Lucky Charm."
Murphy couldn't deny that. Shane had taken him and it was better than he thought it ever could be. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, carefully regarding the other man. "Aye, 'twas."
Shane's arms came around his waist, pulling his hips in against him. "Let me treat you real good then. We got some stuff we could use as lube. I can make it even better. And since Daryl is entertaining Connor tonight, seems like you're free."
Murphy wanted to punch him. He wanted to just beat the snot out of him for even suggesting it, but the thing was… he was right. Connor had clearly moved on, even to the point of pulling away from his touch. The brother's had never pulled away from each other's touch before tonight. And Shane was right. The last thing he wanted to hear was Daryl's throes of passion with Connor's name on his lips.
However, Shane's lips found his earlobe, kissing a wet trail down his neck and back up. "I can make you scream little lucky charm. Make Connor realize what a fine piece of ass he's missing."
"Ay, Rick. We can talk right here."
"I'd rather go into a room."
"And I'd rather not." Connor stood his ground, crossing his arms over his still bare chest. He didn't want to get pulled into a room where it could turn into a potential physical confrontation if he didn't have to.
Daryl opened the door on their Mexican standoff, peeking his head out and looking at them both. "If y'all are goin' to have this argument, do it in here so ain't no one else that can hear ya. Fuckin' embarrassin'."
Connor smirked at being allowed back in Daryl's room, hoping that he could get Rick to leave and they could possibly continue what they had already started just a few short minutes ago. Daryl reached down to the floor, grabbing the crumpled up black fabric of Connor's shirt and tossing it at him before stumbling back on the bed with his bottle of whiskey. "Don't know what y'all'd be fightin' for anyway."
Rick side-eyed him as he watched Connor put his shirt back on. "Not fighting, Daryl. I just want to have a simple conversation. Perhaps its time the MacManus brothers move on."
"And leave this posh place? Get the fock out. This place is a gold mine. Warm running water and booze? Officer I think me brother and I have found a right nice home."
Daryl watch the two men closely, standing in front of each other, one staring the other down. "Rick, ya can't be serious. Ya know ain't no one can survive on their own now. We barely even made it here."
"I think Connor and his brother survived well enough before they came up on you in the woods a couple weeks ago." Rick walked a step forward into Connor's space, daring the other man to make a move.
Connor looked defeated as he stared hard at their supposed leader. He knew what this was about and it wasn't fair to either him or Daryl. "Look, if ye want Daryl to yourself, all ye have to do is say t'e word. But I think it should be up ta Daryl. He's not your fockin' lap dog that will do what ye say all t'e time. There's no reason to be punishing me brother for my feelings towards someone else." Connor looked at Daryl before looking back over at Rick. "If he chooses ye, then I'll go."
Daryl scoffed, "Now ya want me to fuckin' choose between the two of you? Fuck, man." He looked towards the ceiling before looking back at both men who still stood by the door. Rick's face held the look of determination of keeping what was his. Connor already looked defeated, like he knew there was no way he was going to win this. But you know what? Fuck that. He was Daryl fuckin' Dixon and ain't no one owning him. "Rick ya already done told me that ya don't want me. What we did that one night… it was just that. One night. You keep makin' it fuckin' clear that it was one night. Connor… he's done right by me. He ain't pushy and he's real good at helpin' me hunt and go on runs even if he is an Irish pain in the ass."
Rick said nothing. He just nodded once before giving Connor a final look, turning and walking out the door once again.
Connor let out a breath of air, feeling like he had just been saved from a bullet. "I have a feelin' that isn't over," he whispered, mostly to himself, but he knew Daryl was listening. "Thank ye… for that. Ye didn't have to-"
Daryl waved him off. "That was shitty of him to say to you. Ya ain't done nothin' to him 'cept watch his back and bring back candy bars for his kid."
"Ay, well apparently flirting with ye is off limits. You're forbidden fruit, Daryl." Connor nodded at him and turned the knob on the door to leave him once again, but Daryl's soft "wait" stopped him.
Daryl cleared his throat and looked awkwardly away, motioning towards the bed with his chin. Connor couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or a light blush that colored his cheeks, but at this point he didn't care. "Ye askin' me ta stay?"
"Just… for a bit."
Connor smiled softly, walking over towards the bed and sitting down next to Daryl. Wrapping an arm loosely around his waist, he leaned over, pressing a soft kiss against the drunk warm cheek. "I'll save the gloating for ye choosin' me for tomorrow when we're both sober."
Daryl snorted, leaning into the Irishman slightly. "He wasn't right to kick ya out 'cause of me anyways. The group wouldn'ta went for it. They like ya too much."
"What about ye? Ye like me too much ta see me go?" Connor kicked off his shoes as Daryl yawned, his eyes drifting closed. Reaching down, he pulled off Daryl's boots and socks before laying them both down on the bed.
"Yeah, somethin' like that," came the mumbled response as the hunter buried his face into the soft fabric of the pillow, eyes closed as he inhaled the scent of clean, fresh sheets on a real bed. Connor lay behind him, propped up on his elbow to look down into the other man's face. Carefully, he brushed a finger along his jawline and into the scruffy goatee. "Ya got a thing for touchin…"
Connor jumped slightly at the softly spoken words. "Thought ye were asleep." Wrapping his arm around the other's midsection, he laid down on his side, front pressed against Daryl's back. He pressed a kiss into the back of his neck. "If ye don't want me ta touch, just tell me."
"You'll know."
"Is this okay then?" Connor asked, tightening his grip slightly to let Daryl know what in particular he was talking about.
The answer was a little delayed, as the hunter mulled over his response. "Yeah, 's all right. Just don't get any ideas when I fall asleep."
Connor smiled against Daryl's clean hair. "Only molest ye when you're awake. Got it."
Daryl snorted, but gingerly placed his hand over Connor's on his stomach before closing his eyes.
Murphy wasn't exactly sure how he ended up naked beneath this man a second time, but he was thankful that they were actually on a bed and they were facing each other this time. Shane hand's were warm and sure, moving against his skin as they kissed languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. Murphy's heart broke a little when he remembered how he and Connor had used to kiss like that, especially on Saturday mornings. They would wake up with no plans and nothing to do and just spend hours holding each other, kissing, and discussing stupid, inane things about the world.
But that was gone now. Connor was down the hall with another man. Someone who looked just like him and it was fucking frustrating. Shane was here instead, moving above him, grinding their cocks together in a delicious swivel of muscled hips. Murphy moved his hands down Shane's chest, reveling in the ripple of muscle as his fingertips ghosted over them. He was more built than Connor, more toned. Murphy admired the man on top of him as he moved against his body. His lips were moving, but Murph couldn't hear was he was saying. Tuning himself out of his head and back into the moment, he heard the whispered words of encouragement and flutters of approval roll off Shane's lips. Muttered words of "so beautiful," "so perfect," mixed with "yeah, move your hips like that," and "fuck I love the way you touch me." Connor never said any of those things.
Murphy decided to let himself go.
Reaching his arms around the other's broad chest, he pulled him down, kissing him with a new fervor. Shane met his eagerness, moaning into the kiss as his hips continued to press down into the other's, creating a delicious friction that was going to get him there before he could ever enter the Irishman.
Pulling back to catch his breath, Shane sat up, reaching for the lotion on the nightstand. "Gotta slow down, Lucky Charm. You're gonna make me cum and I ain't ready yet. Fuck you're so beautiful like this."
"Like what?" Murphy breathed, as Shane's hand moved between his legs, two fingers circling his hole before pressing in. Murphy's back arched off the bed, his lips forming a perfect O.
"So open. So wrecked. So needy. You need me, Murph? Huh?" Shane's voice deepened as he slowly worked his fingers inside him. He took his time now. They had a room with a locked door and a bed. No forest floor and no Rick threatening to come back out and check on them.
Murphy groaned at the sound of his name on Shane's lips while they were like this, with his fingers deep inside, stretching him, opening him. Fuck he could cum just like this.
"Want ye inside me, Shane. I want to feel ye. We got time now," Murphy breathed, spreading his legs wider.
Shane nodded, taking his hand away and adding more lotion so he could lube himself up. "Yeah, we got all night, baby, my little charm. Just for you." Murphy tensed slightly as he felt the blunt head of the cock at his entrance. Shane trusted shallowly, pressing the head in slightly. "Let go baby, it's okay. I got you. Don't tense on me now." Shane's arms came up around his shoulders, holding him in place as his lips found purchase on Murphy's pulse point on his neck. With a gentle nip and suck on his neck, Murph loosened up with a moan, allowing Shane's cock entrance.
His hands tightened on the strong back, fingernails dangerously close to leaving marks as he felt the shaft press all the way in. A string of mumbled curse words in various languages tumbled from the Irishman's mouth as Shane held still, allowing him to get used to accommodating his girth. "Tell me when I can move, Murph. God, you're so beautiful like this." Taking a hand, Shane brushed dark hair out of blue eyes, kissing his swollen and panting lips while he both praised and cursed him in a language the other would never understand.
Shane pressed his hips in slightly before pulling back, creating an agonizingly slow rhythm as Murphy still tried to hold on to the outer reaches of his own sanity. On one pull out, his cock head brushed against the prostate, sending a wave of pleasurable mini-convulsions throughout his body. "Fock, do that again," he breathed, wrapping his legs around the other's waist.
Shane grinned down at him, looking down into those beautiful blue eyes as he tried to find that spot again, slowly speeding up his thrusts. Quiet grunts filled the air as they moved together. Shane wrapped a hand around Murphy's cock, using a mix of remaining lotion, spit, and pre-cum to stroke him semi-in time with his thrusts.
Murphy's moans slowly escalated in volume as he moaned out what sounded like prayers in Gaelic. In a desperate move, he hooked a leg through Shane's and flipped them over, sinking himself all the way down on the strong cock still inside him.
Shane grinned up at him, grabbing his hips and thrusting up hard. Murphy threw his head back and screamed as he pressed his hands into the chiseled chest beneath him for balance. His orgasm surprised him as it rushed through his body, screaming out Shane's name to the rafters as his whole body convulsed with the force of it, cum spurting all the way up onto the other's chin. "Shit, Murph. You all right?" Shane asked, with a slight smirk.
"Holy fockin… fockin' cum all ready ya jackass," he groaned out as Shane started to thrust into him again.
"Workin' on it," he grinned, flipping them back over and pounding himself home. His second orgasm with the Irishman was eons better than the first. He felt his balls draw up against his body, allowing him to control his thrusts to draw out the build-up sensation as long as he could. With a muffled shout and stout thrusts, he spilled his hot seed deep within Murph.
As he lay against Murphy, petting his hair gently, the Irishman whispered, "Ye like cumming in me ass, do ye?"
Shane smirked, pulling out and rolling over to grab some tissues from the nightstand to wipe them both off with. "Always better to come inside than out. It's still warm inside." Shane stood up to toss out the soiled tissues. Turning off the light, he climbed back into the bed, still naked. Pulling Murphy over to him, they wrapped their arounds around each other, Murphy's head instantly finding Shane's shoulder, exactly like how he had sleep next to Connor for so many years.
Sighing in contentment, both men started to drift off into a peaceful sleep, but one thought kept rolling through Murphy's head that just begged asking. "Would ye let me fock ye?" he asked quietly.
