Disclaimer: I do not own Boondock Saints.

Sub Disclaimer: I do not own Damien Rice's music and lyrics.

NB: Sensitive readers tread lightly.

Story Warnings: Incest, Language, Sensitive Religious Content, MalexMale

Pairing: Twincest (Connor/Murphy)

Movie Verse: First Movie; Pre Canon - Canon / Canon Deviation

Authors Note: This is my attempt at a Boondock Saints incest story between Connor and Murphy MacManus, I won't say it's realistically portrayed because that depends on the readers views.

Sub Note: You will notice a variation in Connor & Murphy's speech (Eg: sometimes I will write you and other times yeh' etc.) It is intentional.

Chapter Two

I know I've been a liar and I know I've been a fool...

As the night drew on the bar got a little fuller, there were some new faces mixed with the usual faces, as there often times were during the week and Connor found himself introduced to new men and women by the people he knew. The new comers quickly learned from the regular people around the bar that Connor and Murphy were brothers, inseparable and close, not to be messed with either.

Even though they weren't on 'good' terms presently, the twins never strayed far from each other, not on that night and never a day or night prior that they could help it, especially when they were fighting. A few meters across the bar was an acceptable distance, so long as when they returned home to their run down loft they would sleep just about an arm's reach apart, a distance from which they could hear each other breath, cough, shift and…dream.

Connor was politely keeping the conversation he was having with the woman flirting with him neutral, she was a new visitor to the bar crowd who didn't know, as the usual female patrons did, that the MacManus brothers had never left McGinty's with anyone but each other and never would. No one knew that he and Murphy had an unofficial vow of celibacy between them, unofficial only because the twins never said it aloud or even actually directly spoke of it to one another, but people were aware that neither Connor nor Murphy ever accepted a woman's advances.

What people made of it, Connor hadn't a clue and he honestly didn't care.

Or at least he hadn't cared, now though, with his newly discovered abnormal feelings, he felt self-conscious of every glance and look he and Murphy exchanged whenever they searched the bar for the other with their eyes, out of habit, a need to be comforted by knowing their other half was okay.

Even if Murphy's glances were brief and upset in nature, he still looked for Connor and Connor still looked for him.

By the time it was nearing midnight and the twins both unconsciously gravitated toward the bar to retrieve their coats and leave for the night, Connor was nowhere near drunk, he'd been careful to moderate his intake after his first few drinks, and he could tell that Murphy wasn't drunk either.

They bid Doc a good night and pulled on their coats as they left the bar together, Connor just a step behind Murphy until they were out in the cold night air and were tugging their coats tightly around themselves, stuffing their hands into their pockets and falling into step beside one another.

Their shoulders touched and bumped lightly when they first started walking and Connor did his best to discreetly put some distance between them, very little, but just enough. If Murphy noticed, he didn't show it. It made Connor feel worse for how he was distorting their usual closeness and he wondered if maybe he was overreacting.

Maybe Murphy didn't notice the lingering stares, didn't notice the uncomfortable flushes to Connor's neck and ears, maybe he didn't feel or see anything misplaced and wrong in Connor's behavior and actions…maybe because Murphy wasn't looking for there to be anything like that wrong, anything so twisted.

Maybe that was a good thing.

Connor glanced at Murphy as they walked the familiar quiet streets back toward their small apartment building. Murphy was chewing his bottom lip, an unconscious habit his sibling had when he wanted a cigarette, but with it being chilly he supposed Murphy figured he could wait until they were out of the wind, as it were his hands were deep in his coat pockets and his shoulders were hunched, much like Connor himself.

They were two blocks from home when Murphy spoke, his tone casual and quiet,

"I've told yeh' before, Connor, yer' too much of a pussy when et' comes te' dealin' with women." He teased.

Connor huffed out a laugh, relieved that Murphy was trying to move past his anger,

"I think the word yer' lookin' fer' Murph, is a gentleman." He informed.

"Oh please," Murphy said with a touch of a grin on his face, "All yer' doin' by not just tellin' her yeh' not interested is leadin' her on, Connor, it's not that hard."

Connor found himself smirking,

"Oh, an' I s'pose yeh' think you could tell a girl te' just fuck off without coming off as being an arsehole..." he raised his eyebrows in question as they turned a corner, "…shame we'll never know, since as long as I'm in the room yeh' seem te' be invisible te' women." Connor teased back.

He hoped for Murphy to take the bait, to swear at him and insult him right back but instead his twin just shook his head and his smile faded, apparently Murphy wasn't ready to start getting along that well.

So Connor sniffed and picked up the conversation, since he wanted to keep talking, even if they couldn't properly joke just yet,

"They all get the message eventually, Murph." He commented, since he saw no reason to blow off the girls who approached him in a rude way, unlike his sibling.

And even though he teased Murphy, Connor had –always- seen how much female attention Murphy got on busy nights at the bar, even the girls who knew there was no shot with the twins sometimes redoubled their efforts when they were drunk enough. Murphy wasn't always as rude to flirtatious women as he suggested Connor should be either, not directly anyway, but Connor had seen Murphy excuse himself from conversation with girls rather blatantly when they started flirting and sometimes after a few too many Guinness' Murphy had said the words, 'I'm not interested' to persistent women.

Where once Connor had found such a thing simply amusing, he now found the idea of women flirting with Murphy aggravating yet satisfying, aggravating for their forwardness and satisfying since he knew Murphy was never interested. He was unlike Connor, who still tried to be nice about turning them down, Murphy made no attempt to be subtle or overly nice. Much like his twin treated anyone who didn't know their place in Murphy's personal space, he was abrupt and straightforward about letting people know when they needed to back off.

Honestly, Rocco was about the only person, besides Connor obviously, who Murphy allowed into his immediate personal space and that was probably just because they'd known Rocco for years, ever since just after they first arrived in the USA so many years ago.

Connor tried not to think about why women flirting with Murphy aggravated him, it was one of those thoughts and feelings that didn't belong within him. Speaking of, he wondered if it aggravated Murphy when it happened to Connor,

"Does et' bother yeh?" Connor knew he probably shouldn't ask, he had only bad feelings about where the conversation could lead, or was that just his own guilty mind rearing up again about possibly taboo feelings and subjects?

Shit.

Murphy didn't look awkward or uncomfortable at being asked, reaffirming for Connor that his own discomfort on the subject came from his growing disturbing feelings and thoughts toward Murphy. Said twin simply twitched his nose as he sniffed, a habit he'd had since childhood, unfortunately it was a habit that signified Murphy wasn't impressed or happy with something.

"I just wonder sometimes…" Murphy mumbled, keeping his eyes on the dark pavement as their boots tapped and scuffed.

"Wonder what?" Connor asked genuinely curious at his brother's hesitant tone.

Murphy sighed,

"If maybe yeh' want et'…"

Connor knew what Murphy was saying but before he could help it he was playing dumb,

"It? What's it, Murph?"

Understandably Murphy was not amused and he glued his gorgeous blue eyes to Connor as if daring him to try his patience on the subject,

"It, Connor, sex." He stated crisply and for reasons Connor would never understand, hearing the subtle lowering of Murphy's voice when he said 'sex' brought about that awful warmth in his body.

Connor felt like some sexually confused teenager.

He blinked a few times as he tried to remember what the conversation was about and then he shook his head, sniffing and huddling into his coat.

They were approaching the alley entrance to their rundown apartment building by now,

"Yeh' think I want sex, Murph?" he found himself also saying 'sex' quieter, which was just stupid.

"I don't know Connor, do yeh?" Murphy asked stiffly as they walked into the quiet bottom floor of the shitty building, but at least the wind was closed out behind them, "Cause' if yeh' do, then yeh' can, yeh' know." He added as he walked ahead of Connor up the first narrow staircase.

The stupid fucking elevator was broken again and without management for the illegally lived in building, they'd have to just wait until someone decided to fix it.

Connor couldn't help the look of confusion that came over his face at his twin's words, even if Murphy couldn't see it, he frowned,

"What the fuck are yeh' talking about?" he asked as he followed two steps behind, eyes pointedly on his sibling's back, "Why would I want sex, where are yeh' even getting this shit from…?" he noticed how Murphy took the steps quicker and he kept up, "…just cause' I don't want te' tell a girl te' piss off like a fuckin' arsehole, et' doesn't mean I want te' fuck her." He informed Murphy.

His mind briefly detoured –veered without warning- into the territory of sex, fucking and his recent staggering feelings and thoughts about Murphy. He nearly fell up the stairs when he tripped over his own shock and disgust as certain images he would rightfully burn in hell for, crossed his mind. Connor's near fall caused Murphy to glance back at him and he frowned, one eye narrowed as Connor steadied himself on the wall and the prayer for contrition once again burned on his tongue.

Those thoughts were officially a line crossed.

Connor could not be thinking of his sibling with such blatant sexual intent, having dreamed of kissing him while he lay dying was sinful and disturbing enough.

Murphy waited until Connor righted himself and then started ascending again, a few stairs later they reached the top fifth floor and walked the final stretch to their loft door. They walked by the broken door to the single staircase for the rooftop and by all of the other shit that had been stored and abandoned on that floor, some of which they'd found useful for their shabby living space when they'd first moved in.

At their door Murphy jammed his key in their mostly useless lock and pushed the flimsy door open.

Connor was still reeling from his thoughts so he hung back, hand balancing him against the unevenly plastered wall just beside the doorway. He watched as Murphy paused in the doorway to take his rosary off and hang it on one of the nails they'd hammered into the wall for that very purpose.

Connor stepped in once Murphy was further inside, already pulling his coat off and had walked over to their small round table littered with empty beer bottles, caps, an ashtray filled with ash and filters along with other miscellaneous rubbish and once there Murphy dropped his door key on the table so it skidded and clinked against a bottle.

Connor had just shut the door and he was holding the cross of his rosary in his hand, his mind and skin burning with guilt and worry and sin, when Murphy turned to face him, hands raising slightly at his sides,

"I think et' cause' yeh' won't talk about et', you won't talk te' me, Connor an' yer' dreamin' about meh dying. Yeh' been avoiding meh' at work, s'like yeh' don't want meh' around…" he said without taking a breath, his jaw working afterward, right eyebrow hiking up as he shifted his hands, restless and irritable.

Connor felt like shit, he hated having to make Murphy feel worried, let alone some sort of rejected abandonment.

He opened his mouth to deny what Murphy was accusing him of, but then he stopped and squeezed his cross absently, thinking it would probably be better to give his twin something, some kind of explanation. Murphy was seeking honesty, seeking confidence from Connor, to bridge the forming gap between them that made Connor feel like half of himself, so surely it did the same to Murphy.

And although it seemed impossible right then, he knew it'd be a slice of heaven to be in sync with Murphy again, so even if Connor couldn't so easily get over his mind fuckingly disturbing thoughts, he could certainly give his brother peace of mind. He sighed and took his rosary off to hang it up before starting to shrug his coat off and walking nearer to where Murphy stood at the table, but not too near,

"You were shot, Murph…" he said with a glance at his twin as he tossed his coat onto the tattered foam, iron framed couch and he stopped a few steps away from Murphy.

Murphy blinked slowly and looked at the floor, pursing his lips briefly before rubbing his fingers over his lips and chin and then turning back to the table to sift through the mess scattered there for one of their many strewn packets of cigarettes.

Connor could see the tension in the line of his twin's shoulders, they'd had dreams of losing one another before and it was always upsetting. When he saw Murphy wasn't finding anything on the table, Connor patted himself down, feeling for whether his smokes were in his coat or jeans and when he felt them out, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out what was left of his pack and his lighter.

When he looked at Murphy again and was about to offer it to him, Connor didn't have a second before his pack and lighter were taken from his hand, Murphy having come nearer and there was just about a foot space between them.

Jesus…proximity between them had never felt so stifling and sensitive, Connor didn't know if he could deal with it.

Murphy took two cigarettes out, placing them between his lips and he lit them up before handing one to Connor, taken from between his lips, before Murphy puffed from his own. His knuckles grazed Connor's chest through his shirt when Murphy nudged him to take the cigarette where he held it up between their torsos.

Shit. Murphy had lit cigarettes for him hundreds of times in their 26 years of life, since they were 14 years old and had first started smoking, they'd shared cigarettes, drank from the same glasses and bottles, eaten from the same food and utensils…

So why now did the idea of putting that cigarette to his lips seem different? Fuck. Connor averted his eyes from Murphy's hand and the cigarette held between their chests as he took it between his own fingers and nodded once wordlessly in thanks, another unusual action from him which made Murphy's left eye narrow and his right eyebrow twitch up.

Connor ignored the look as he placed the cigarette between his lips and Jesus fucking Christ, why did the slight moisture on the filter make his senses go crazy?

'Because of that fucking dream…' he thought distractedly as he exhaled through his nose and slightly through his mouth, all the while Murphy just stared at him contemplatively.

That dream in which he'd kissed Murphy and he'd vividly imagined taste and texture, flesh, blood, sweat and spit…it was responsible for all of his confusion. And why the fuck had Murphy been dying anyway? Was there some significance to that? There had to be and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was, God, he was afraid to know what was really going on with him. Connor caught himself staring at Murphy's slightly parted lips and he hastily cuffed a hand through his hair and then rubbed where his shoulder met his neck as he glanced around the loft and stepped away from his observant twin,

"What made yeh' think this had anythin' te' do with sex?" he questioned innocently, really, and only afterward realized what he'd asked…and it made him uncomfortable because of his cold sweat inducing, rapidly developing feelings of...incestuous things.

Connor swallowed thickly as he turned and took a few steps toward the old rusty fridge that stood in the corner of the loft and he opened it, it was lacking food but not beer so he reached in and hooked his free hand fingers around two bottle necks to lift them out.

He heard Murphy sniff and then came the creak of the old wooden chair his twin favored at their little round table,

"Just thought maybe yeh' wanted that…" hesitance again, "…et's been a while, years since we made that choice…so…" he trailed off.

They never directly spoke about what Murphy seemed to prefer referring to as 'it' and 'that' whenever he so rarely mentioned their chosen celibacy. When and if 'it' was ever brought up, the subject was always in vague terms and 'it' hadn't been brought up in so long that Connor found himself curious about it now when it was mentioned.

"Yeh' thought I wanted sex cause' I've been a little distant Murph, what kind of fuckin' logic is that?" he asked as he walked to the table and sat down opposite his twin, holding out the second bottle to his sibling.

Murphy glanced at the offered bottle and then took it and Connor told himself the feeling of Murphy's fingers brushing over his own felt like it would on any other ordinary day,

"With me, Connor, yeh've been distant with meh'." Was all he mumbled as he unscrewed the bottle cap.

That was more than enough said and Connor made a bit of a face at himself, annoyed, disgusted, disappointed all at once in his own actions…then he remembered his slowly burning cigarette and he smoked from it.

He nodded after a beat of silence and smoking,

"Aye…" he admitted as Murphy was stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray, elbows on the table encircling his half way empty beer, "…I have, m'sorry Murph, the dream was-…"

"Before the dream Connor, et's been a few weeks now." Murphy stated, blue eyes dead on Connor's and so serious, "That schupid' fuckin' dream just made et' obvious is all, before last night yeh' were already distant."

Connor hadn't even realized it. Was this disturbing thing something he hadn't acknowledged until just last night, but it had been building all along?

Murphy reached for the cigarettes,

"Yeh' take confession less, an' when yeh' do et's short an' when yeh' come out, you always look worse off than when yeh' go in," Murphy went on as Connor sipped his beer to quell the dryness in his throat, "yeh' toss an' turn in yer' sleep, if yeh' sleep at all, I don't know if you have been because I haven't been getting much." because they were connected. They shared each others discomforts and so if Connor didn't sleep, Murphy would struggle to as well, "Yeh' drink less at the bar an' more at home, yeh' don't talk much…te' me at least…" he paused, "…do yeh' get the fuckin' point now." He poked a finger onto the table surface as he held his unlit cigarette.

Connor could do nothing but crack an awkward smile and huff out an empty laugh,

"Jesus, Murph…" Murphy once again, did not look amused,"…what do yeh' want meh' te' say?" Connor raised his hands up slightly and sat back in his chair, "M'sorry I've been distracted." It was all he had to say, barely even an excuse.

Murphy twitched his nose again in irritation and Connor stared, with forced calm, at Murphy's boyishly handsome yet 'pretty' face as he fiddled with his cigarette between his fingers,

"Okay, so what's been on yer' mind?" Murphy reached for the lighter, his tone irritable.

Connor wanted to redirect the conversation away from what had been on his dirty, sinful mind, so he smirked and took a last puff of his cigarette before he answered,

"S'not been sex, Murph, swear to God…" he could have bitten his tongue as he thoughtlessly lied and swore it to God, when just ten minutes earlier he'd had distinctly sexual thoughts about his own fucking brother.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Murphy looked ready to comment and Connor felt the need to speak first, to deflect and divert,

"Speakin' of, Murph," he pushed up his sleeves and reached for his beer after dropping his filter in the ashtray, "Why do yeh' say it when yeh' talk about our celibacy?"

It was a straightforward and intentionally derailing question. And Murphy's raised right eyebrow and slightly widened eyes told Connor he'd successfully arrested Murphy's train of thought and diverted it to something different for the moment. Murphy rubbed his lips with his free fingers before smoking from the cigarette held in the same hand,

"S'that what you call et', celibacy?"

Connor frowned and swallowed a mouthful of beer,

"Aye, s'what et' is, a vow never to fuck, marry or do anything pertaining te' sex, that's celibacy, Murph." He explained it as he saw it.

Murphy frowned slightly,

"We never made a vow…" he mumbled and then louder he said, "…an' celibacy just sounds so, priest like."

Connor just shrugged facially at the last comment,

"Aye, we never made a vow, not out aloud at least." he watched Murphy consider his words.

There was some silence as Murphy smoked his cigarette and Connor lit another and then Murphy spoke as he fiddled with his empty beer bottle,

"I never thought yeh'd say yes…" he started a new line of conversation and Connor remained sitting back, outwardly relaxed, smoking as he raised his eyebrows at Murphy in question of what he was talking about, glad for the lighter tone in his twin's voice, "…when I suggested et', "Connor smirked at the word it and Murphy snorted quietly and bobbed his eyebrows, a smirk touching his lips, "celibacy, I thought yeh'd say no."

Connor tilted his head,

"Why's that?" he wondered, since he'd been pretty much in sync with Murphy on the feelings of sex back then, even if something bad was happening to his mind presently.

"Because' Conn, yeh' seemed te' like sex, yeh' certainly had et' more than I did." Murphy said with a definitive smirk now.

The mood was lighter and Connor was relieved.

Connor offered an expression of vague surprise,

"I was experiencing things, we were 18 an' Ma finally stopped expecting us home at night," he felt amused and curious at Murphy's subtle head shake and quick glance at the table top, "besides, et' wasn't that many in that year, couldn't have been many more than you." he said and found himself wondering, "How many did yeh' go with, Murph?" he asked with a curious smile.

He really was curious, because while they'd told each other about the details of their sexual experiences when they'd been having them, they'd never stated whether it had been with the same girl or different girls, so this was the first time they were comparing numbers.

Murphy looked at the far wall, but it was too brief a glance for him to be thinking through a long list, so it was an avoidance of eye contact or an eye roll, before Murphy shrugged lightly,

"Two." He said evenly, he didn't sound like he was embarrassed by that number.

So it had only been two girls for Murphy in the time starting from when they were 18, through the 14 months during which they were 'sexually active', before they'd agreed on 'it', their celibacy.

Connor's number was higher actually, quite a bit higher and he felt like a shit for it.

"An' yours?" Murphy raised that sharp right eyebrow and he looked like he knew the answer would trump his own.

Connor licked his lips, eyes on the table as he mumbled,

"Nine."

Murphy shook his head again and exhaled a stream of smoke from his nose,

"I s'pose that's just how many yeh' slept with, how many did yeh' kiss an' fool around with?"

Connor really felt like a shit,

"A fair amount-…"

"I fuckin' knew et'…" Murphy was smirking now, "…I wasn't even tryin' te' keep count but I knew there was more than a dozen."

More than a dozen, yes, Connor had certainly not wasted time once he'd graduated from their catholic school and had finally been granted new privileges by their Ma, such as the lifting of their curfew and being free to come and go as they pleased.

"Well, what about you?" Connor asked back, standing up to get another two beers, despite them having work the next day, he couldn't help the urge.

"I only kissed four girls an' two of them I slept with." Murphy answered evenly again.

"An' fooled around with?" Connor asked as he retrieved the beers.

"Aye, four in total." Murphy affirmed and then took the beer Connor handed to him, "So I was right, yeh' did like sex…" Connor sat down again, preparing an answer to that when Murphy continued, "…but then, why did yeh' agree to et'… te' celibacy?"

Connor leaned forward, elbows on the table,

"Et' wasn't about liking et', Murph, I'm sure yeh' liked et' well enough yerself…" oddly enough, Murphy's expression didn't give away anything with regards to Connor's statement, "…et' was about whether I needed et', whether et' was fulfilling an' really, et' wasn't, et' honestly made me feel impure. Great in the moment, but depressing an' disappointing in confession." He said honestly, because that had been and was still the truth.

It had been all well and good when he'd been doing it with a girl, but the aftermath never felt right, no matter how many times he tried. He'd been eager and stupid and good looking enough that it didn't matter whether he built up a reputation for being an asshole or heartbreaker, girls had loved him and he'd been able to pick, choose and refuse, so he had. But there had never been the intention within him to stay with a girl, to commit or build a relationship. At the end of each tryst he always went back home, back to his shared bedroom with his twin even at 18 years old, where their beds were a meter apart, an arm's reach away, and that was where he found peace.

Murphy had finished his cigarette and was nursing his beer, a sign that he was done drinking for the night whereas Connor didn't feel half ready to call it.

"So yer' really fine with et', yeh' haven't been thinking of finding someone?" Murphy asked quietly.

It struck Connor then, like a painful stab –unusual and hurtful- that Murphy might be asking for himself,

"No, I haven't, but what about you, is that why yer' asking, Murph?" he kept his tone forcefully neutral.

But inside Connor felt cold dread and disturbing jealously as he awaited an answer.

Murphy stared at him for a few seconds before he sighed and shook his head, getting to his feet,

"No, s'not like that Connor, unlike you, connecting with people like that…with sex…" he was pulling his shirt off, undressing for bed and oh God, Connor felt his pulse quicken, "…et' wasn't fer' me. I just felt dirty every time."

'Christ…' Connor's mind made word and image associations with Murphy being shirtless and the words sex and dirty and then there was the sound of Murphy's belt buckle unfastening and the collective onslaught of sight and sound went straight through him, down…down…

He shut his eyes and resisted the urge to freak out over the bloom of heat between his legs, not where Murphy could witness it, he'd freak out later.

"…there was no connection Murphy, in the end et' was all empty." He mumbled, rubbing at his forehead.

"Aye." Murphy agreed in a mumble as well and Connor heard the identifiable slide of denim –Murphy's jeans down his legs-, the shuffle and pull and fump of his boots and then the jeans finding their place on the concrete floor.

Connor told himself not to look…but he did anyway, his blue eyes opening to the sight of his twin sitting and then lying down on his back on his mattresses, laid out in nothing but his gray boxer shorts, both legs bent up so his shorts slid back and his lean muscled thighs were in complete view.

All milk white skin, partially covered in few places with downy fair hair and Connor watched as Murphy breathed softly, he watched the smooth dip of his twin's stomach as he exhaled and the stretch of his torso as Murphy rested one arm above his head on his pillow while his other hand rested on his chest and his fingers tapped a soundless rhythm against his skin.

Wasn't he cold like that…so blatantly fucking naked…? Well, almost…

But no, Connor didn't feel particularly cold in the loft, so probably not. They were mostly used to the weather of Boston after so many years and their loft, when the windows were closed, tended to keep heat in pretty well.

So there was no reason for Murphy not to feel comfortable enough to lay himself out like that.

It's not as if he had any clue about Connor's perversion and how close it was to manifesting physically.

Connor sat for a few minutes with his head rested in one hand, deeply bothered and stressed. He finished his beer and another cigarette before he got up, locked their flimsy door and started to undress himself to sleep, deciding to shower in the morning because there was usually hot water then, just as Murphy had probably decided.

He was standing in only his jeans and had just pulled his belt from the loops when he glanced –God help him- over the expanse of Murphy's body again, bottom to top and his heart dropped into his stomach when he saw Murphy's blue eyes had opened just slightly, watching him.

Connor forced himself to look away casually as he dropped his belt on the floor, but inside he was swarming with panic and shame and more panic.

Had Murphy noticed that long inappropriate look? Had it been obvious how closely Connor had been looking at his near nudity?

"I thought yeh'd be asleep." Connor rasped out, cursing himself mentally for his voice.

Murphy didn't answer immediately, instead he sighed and shifted, dropping one leg to lay flat while raising his other arm so he could rest his head on his hands and Connor's mouth went dry at the shifting of lines and planes and muscle along his twin's body.

The feelings were an abomination, unholy and vile.

Connor had to sit down on his mattresses with his back to Murphy as he dropped his jeans because he felt a stiffening in his cock that made him want to pull his hair out and perform acts of contrition on his knees until they were bruised and bleeding.

"How can I sleep with all that noise in yer' head, Connor." Murphy stated honestly, quietly. Another thing they hardly spoke of was the strange connection they shared mentally and physically, but it was as real and as tangible between them as each other, so they respected it and valued it.

"Sorry…" Connor said sincerely, "…I hoped the alcohol would shut et' up." He mumbled back.

Murphy sighed heavily, but didn't ask any more questions or make any more comments and Connor was grateful for it.

Once Connor had his boots and jeans off, stripped down to his boxers, he laid down on his back and hit the switch beside his bed which put out the two working lights running above their mattresses, casting them into relative darkness. He didn't even bother closing his eyes and pretending to try to sleep, he just stared at the shadowed, cracked ceiling and silently deprecated himself.

At least a half hour passed laying in silence before Murphy spoke quietly,

"Will yeh' take a vow, Connor?" his question was spoken softly but he didn't sound like he was sleepy or had been asleep.

Connor didn't glance over, he couldn't take the pain or guilt of another filthy thought after his body's betrayal earlier when he'd looked at Murphy.

He knew what Murphy was asking though and that a simple yes or no answer would solidify where he stood on their previous non-verbally committed celibacy, so he answered simply with,

"Aye, I will, Murphy."

That was all he needed to say to affirm for his twin that he was vowing himself to a life of abstinence, so they could stay devoted to God and one another…except while Murphy was probably doing it for himself and God, Connor was doing it for Murphy, because he wanted to spend his life with his brother.

Before his mind's perversion and right then, Murphy had always been the single most important thing to Connor.

It made him wonder as he closed his eyes in hope of sleep…whether God had left him to suffer with his demons because when it came down to it, Connor put Murphy before God, and always would.

My cave is deep now, yet your light is shining through...

...I cover my eyes, still all I see is you.