NB: Sensitive readers tread lightly.

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

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

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

Sub Note – The content of the next chapter and the ones that follow it will be rated between M and NC 17. The explicit chapters will be censored in these uploads due to Fanfiction dot net's policy. The uncensored version can be found on AO3, the link to my account is available on my profile.

- The AO3 upload has additional images

Chapter Seven

Tiredness fuels empty thoughts
I find myself disposed
Brightness fills empty space
In search of inspiration...

Harder now with higher speed
Washing in on top of me...

Connor was sitting with his head in his hands, elbows on the kitchen table.

His cigarette was burning out between his fingers, smoke idly floating up into the air, the apartment was quiet.

Rocco was passed out on the sofa for the last ten minutes after having drunk and medicated himself into a stupor while mourning the loss of his finger and Murphy was taking a shower…washing away caked blood and dried cold sweat from his pale skin.

The job to execute the family killer had started out so well, it'd been nearly done and dusted…and then everything had turned to shit. One minute they'd been leaving a successful execution and then the next there'd been open fire, a fucking gun fight on a suburban street and they'd been shot…Jesus Christ, Murphy had been shot.

Connor had been blinded by anger when out of his peripheral he'd seen his brother go down, he'd lost any semblance of care for not getting himself shot in that second and all he'd wanted to do was land a bullet in the motherfucker who had been shooting at them. Even when he'd got shot in his leg, he'd been so driven by adrenalin and fury that Connor had hardly felt it aside from a brief searing hot pain…and he'd just kept firing…and firing and he was sure he'd been screaming at some point.

Finally he'd managed to shoot the son of a bitch, it wasn't a fatal wound, only in the arm, but it had been enough to make the old bastard retreat.

Then Connor had shouted for his brother, needing to hear Murphy's voice, to know he was okay, alive, breathing…

…and the second he'd heard Murphy shout out a curse and the sound of his gun still being fired, Connor was able to take a full breath into his lungs and his mind had cleared, the blood red in his vision had seeped away and then it had been time to pull their shit back together. Quickly.

Murphy alive. Check. Rocco alive. Check. Get the weapons bag. Check. Get the blood. Check. Get the hell out of there. Check.

They'd argued when they got back to the apartment, screaming and bleeding and panicking and angry.

At that present moment, Connor still believed Rocco had been lying to them when he said he didn't know the bastard who had single-handedly ambushed them and while Murphy hadn't continued to badger Rocco about it like he had, he suspected Murphy was on the same page as him.

It had to be some big time guy that Rocco was afraid of.

But they'd had to drop the issue because their wounds had needed to be tended to and that damn clothes iron of Rocco's turned out to be useful after all. The twins were lucky the bullets had only grazed them, Murphy's arm wound was shallower than the graze to Connor's leg and with a finger missing Rocco had technically sustained the worst injury.

They'd taken turns with the iron and Connor had refused to let Rocco cauterize Murphy's bullet wound, he'd had to do it himself. If pain was to be inflicted on his twin, he would administer it and he would do it only as much as was absolutely necessary.

It had hurt physically for him to hear Murphy screaming muffled through the cloth he'd been biting down on and the burn on Murphy's arm from the iron was felt as a secondary deep ache in Connor's chest, his throat and over all of his skin. And Murphy had thrashed, so Connor had shouted with him while Rocco had held Murphy down, and the table had rattled beneath their combined weight.

Conner would not soon forget Murphy's muffled screams…

Rocco went next, he'd struggled too against the cauterizing of his exposed, raw flesh but Connor had held him firmly while Murphy had sealed his wound…

…and then it'd been Connor's turn.

The pain had been excruciating, viciously raw, as if someone had been cutting into his leg with a fire hot, blunt steel blade…he could only hope to never have to go through it again.

But that was wishful thinking. Naïve, wishful thinking.

Even right then, after hours had passed, his leg still burned and ached and tingled and just plain fucking hurt. But he'd get over it, he'd known he could about halfway through the cauterization, when he'd felt Murphy tense behind him whilst restraining him and Connor had heard his twin grunt in anger and shared pain, that he would be fine as long as his brother was fine.

Connor sighed presently, he was tired, his eyes half lidded as he huffed loudly and removed his hands from his face so he could smoke from what was left of his cigarette.

Honestly, he blamed Rocco for the entire shit storm, since first Rocco has said that their target had not been in the room after they'd taken out the other men at the poker game and then Rocco had started to get spastic, which had made Murphy anxious and Connor tense and irritable.

But then their target had shown himself and the first thing Rocco did was fucking run.

That really pissed Connor off.

"Christ…" Connor mumbled to himself, shaking his head as he picked up his soda can, unlike Rocco, he and Murphy wouldn't mix medication with alcohol. There was barely a sip left in his can so he reached for the one Murphy had been drinking from before he'd left the kitchen to go and shower, it was half full and slightly warm but he still took a gulp from it.

He'd been pissed off further when Murphy had jumped their target carelessly, risking himself, wanting to help Rocco and Connor had reacted accordingly, restraining Murphy and telling him that Rocco had to take care of himself. He'd hated to see the look of worry on Murphy's face when said twin shouted that Rocco could get killed, but Connor had firmly reminded his twin that it was his idea to bring Rocco in…and being in meant being able to take care of yourself.

In the end it'd worked out, Rocco had gotten the upper hand on the target, managed to kill the bastard and Connor had been relieved and genuinely proud of Rocco and Murphy had seemed relieved and proud too, he hadn't even been angry at Connor for stopping him from interfering.

It'd been good, it'd gone well…

Then the old guy with six…or eight – Connor wasn't even sure- fucking guns showed up. Who in God's name…?

Connor glanced to the lounge, but through the doorway he couldn't see Rocco, only hear him snoring.

Quietly he seethed.

It was the second time in two weeks that he'd experienced the possibility of losing Murphy, not counting his dream which had felt real but ultimately hadn't been, and it had cut him deep both times.

Thinking of the dream, Connor frowned as he realized that he'd never given much consideration to anything that it consisted of besides the fact that he'd kissed Murphy in it. When he thought back on it now, or at least what he could remember, like the escaping from prison part, he took a moment to wonder if their present lifestyle would lead to that. Had the dream been some sort of a premonition? He didn't believe in that shit though…so…but then…

Connor looked away from the lounge he'd been absently staring into when he heard the bathroom door open down the hall, beyond the door of the kitchen. Murphy was done showering and the mental images of his twin with damp hair and skin and steam rising off his smooth white, lean muscled flesh stirred up a range of emotions and sexual feelings in Connor.

He didn't bother repressing them, he was alone right then, there was no need to hide the subtle flush of his skin or the small shift he had to do with his lower body when his jeans became a bit too constricting.

Connor lit another cigarette and smoked it down to the filter so quickly his throat burned.

After ten minutes of silence had passed Connor picked himself up, literally using the table to stand up because his right leg was stiff and sore and he felt so exhausted, and then he walked slowly and with small grimaces out of the kitchen and into the hall leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

He entered the bathroom and shut the door behind himself, locking it, an action he only did because Rocco was in the apartment, it wasn't just himself and Murphy anymore.

But God, how he wished he could be alone with his sibling.

Removing his rosary first and setting it down on the small counter space beside the basin, Connor sighed as he continued to undress, pulling his shirt up over his head slowly, his muscles felt stiff. After unfastening his belt and jeans, he pushed it off his waist and then he sat down on the closed toilet lid to unlace his boots with quick tugs. He maneuvered his feet out of them and paused to rub the heels of his hands into his eyes, before he toed the boots aside to where Murphy's boots laid untidily. Connor sniffed as he pulled his socks off and then his jeans were next, and he had to peel the bloody denim from his skin, gritting his teeth in upset as it clung to him.

All the while Connor was thinking of the day, the disaster, the horrible feeling that had weighed in his gut when he'd seen Murphy go down under the hail of bullets.

It made him sick to his stomach, made his hands shake.

He'd kept his stressed feelings in all night, always the one to keep it together.

Even when they'd seen Smecker on TV earlier, stating that he was in charge of the investigation, which was just more bad news for them, Connor had kept a cool head and calm facade. Murphy had been doing the same, but Connor hadn't missed the looks and glances and attempts at conversation that Murphy had been extending all evening, all of which Connor hadn't felt emotionally strong enough to deal with so he'd pretended not to notice.

And yet he felt drawn to Murphy, like he needed to be closer to his twin after nearly dying together, but he hadn't allowed for the chance, choosing to overlook the needy urges because it was driven to some degree by his incestuous feelings for Murphy. He'd avoided his twin that night because of his own fears about his feelings, not even because of Rocco's presence, but just because of his own doubt in his resolve not to look, want, touch and taste.

His resolve had already been weakening before that disaster of a day and he just didn't trust himself.

And all of it, all of the stress, the lies, the feelings, the desire, the miscommunication, the distance, it was starting to feel like an empty, cold space in his chest. It felt like something was missing, there was a constant dull ache…the longer Connor went without being able to level with Murphy, to sync up.

To connect.

Connor endured a shower, leaning most of his weight on his left leg as he washed the blood and sweat from his body and when he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist, picked up his rosary and exited the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. But the hot water had eased some of the tension in his muscles at the very least.

He entered the bedroom a few steps down the hall and shut the door behind him, he'd expected Murphy to be asleep but his twin was awake, sitting up in his single bed with his back to his pillows which were propped up against the wall.

Murphy was smoking, sitting in the dark with one leg drawn up and supporting his extended arm. His cigarette was sagging from the fingers of that suspended hand – the hand of his good arm, and Connor could make out that he was fiddling with the prayer beads of his rosary still worn around his neck with his other hand. Although he wasn't praying since his eyes were open and he was staring across the room at the open bedroom window.

Connor didn't bother saying anything, he was too tired to try to behave normally around Murphy, especially when the entire bedroom smelled of his freshly showered twin and it was heady for Connor, driving his senses quietly crazy. So he walked slowly over to his bed and hung his rosary up before turning around and sitting on his unmade bed with a soft exhale as he kept his wounded leg straight, his back was to Murphy.

"You okay?" Murphy asked quietly.

Connor blinked sleepily and peeled his towel back from his right leg to look at his seared, enflamed skin which had bled a little onto his towel. The second degree* burn was ugly and raw and it was only thanks to Rocco's impressive collection of illegal prescription drugs, stolen from Donna when they'd left Roc's apartment – drugs neither Connor nor Murphy had even known he had- that none of them would land up with an infection.

He sighed quietly,

"Aye, et's a bit stiff," he figured it being painful went without saying, "but et' should be okay tomorrow…" he answered honestly, knowing the worst of his state was attributed to emotional stress and exhaustion, "…an' you, Murph?" he turned his head slightly but didn't actually glance over his shoulder.

"M'fine."

Connor nodded to himself and cuffed a hand through his wet hair before pushing himself to stand up again, he crossed the room to their shared clothing drawers and pulled out a fresh pair of boxer shorts before heading back over to the bed and sitting down again.

He was aware of Murphy watching him but he didn't look at his twin.

When he was seated again he pulled the boxers up over his legs while sitting and then lifted his hips to get them on all the way before unfastening and removing the towel. Afterward he flopped onto his back with a sigh, stretching his legs out off of the bed as he lay horizontally and he brought his hands up to run them through his hair and down over his face, reminding himself mentally that he needed to dress his burn before he fell asleep.

He had closed his eyes for a minute…until he felt a dip on his bed and Connor opened his eyes and turned his head to find Murphy sitting on the opposite side of his bed near his head, bent forward, elbows on his knees and his rosary hanging from his neck.

Connor just stared at him, taking in a quiet breath at the closer scent and sight of him.

He hadn't been able to really see Murphy through the darkness in the room when he walked in, but now, this much closer, Murphy sitting a foot from his head, Connor could see him clearly.

He was wearing only a pair of dark boxers, his hair was still wet and a few small water droplets were slowly sliding down onto his face and neck. Connor tracked one drop down the back of his neck, slowly over his nape until it disappeared, probably moving down Murphy's smooth back, along his spine.

The angle he was looking from didn't allow him to see that but he imagined it…vividly, picturing – so wrongly – in his tired mind, catching that water droplet with his tongue as he'd lick slowly upward along Murphy's spine.

Connor swallowed thickly, blinked slowly, he had a clear view of Murphy's bandaged wound on his left arm…and slowly his eyes wandered to the pale skin of Murphy's naked side – skin that would be silky under his fingertips-, and further down to the muscled line of Murphy's thigh settled on the soft mattress – muscle which would be firm under a caress- and Connor could smell the soap and shampoo and cigarette smoke on his twin. All sights and scents creating a swell of love and heat that settled in his chest and lower body all at once.

Filling his senses, charging his nerves, clouding his judgment.

He was so tired…of being afraid of how he felt.

"We could have been killed today." Murphy said quietly.

Connor blinked twice and refocused on his twin's face, his awareness returning at the sound of Murphy's voice,

"Aye." His voice was a quiet rasp since his throat was raw from the last hour he'd spent chain smoking too much too quickly.

"Would we be in heaven now, if we had been?" Murphy didn't look at him, voice quiet and flat, blue eyes focused on the floor.

Connor stared up at him as he frowned lightly, he hated the kinds of questions he couldn't definitively answer for his twin, but he had to answer, he had to say something,

"Whatever could or will happen te' us, Murph, et'll be God's will." He settled on what he thought Murphy needed to hear.

But Murphy snorted and looked down at him, blue eyes seemingly dark for the lack of light reflecting in them,

"Yeh' don't even believe that anymore." He mumbled.

Connor didn't do it consciously but he did it, he looked over Murphy's face, over his lips, down to his neck, his shoulder and slowly back up as he spoke quietly,

"O'course I do." He said with no conviction whatsoever.

"Don't lie, Connor." Murphy shook his head.

Murphy's annoyed tone made Connor look directly into his twin's eyes,

"I'm not lying, Murph…" he sat up slightly, leaning on his elbow and shifting to lie on his side, careful of his leg and facing Murphy, "…I've just been needing time te' get my head together is all, I've not lost my faith." He reassured.

He was so tired…so distracted by Murphy's closeness and having a hard time keeping his mind on track.

As it was Connor's face was now a hand's distance from Murphy's upper arm, his warm skin, his wound beneath a blood spotted bandage…and the temptation to kiss it was strong…

…shit…Connor forced himself away from that trail of thought, he resisted the urge and sat up properly, back facing Murphy again and his twin sitting likewise as Connor pressed his fingers into his eyes. Stressed.

"We could have been killed today…" Murphy repeated, "…an' yer' still lying te' me, still avoiding…" he sighed shortly, "…if yeh' don't want me around yeh', Connor, then just say so fer' Christ's sake."

That was the opposite of what Connor wanted, the opposite of what he needed.

The force of need with which he'd been feeling drawn to Murphy by lately was dizzying and confusing and wrong, but he couldn't tell his twin that.

Still, Connor didn't want to push him away, not further than he already had.

Connor stood up slowly, grimacing slightly at the ache in his leg as he turned to face Murphy's back where his twin sat on the opposite side of the bed,

"Don't be fuckin' schupid, Murph, yer' my brother, I need you…yeh' know that…" Murphy looked at him sidelong, his expression somewhere between tense and sad, his eyes guarding his emotions only just and Connor knew then that Murphy needed to hear him say it, to say what was wrong between them but Connor couldn't, so he tried to make up an excuse, "…et's been hard te' talk, we haven't been alone much an-…"

"We're alone right now…" Murphy stood up quickly, turned to face him, "…Rocco's not wakin' up anytime soon and he sure as fuckin' hell can't hear us talkin', so tell me Connor, tell me what's been makin' yeh' act so fuckin' weird?" He asked straightforwardly and Connor tensed, clenching his jaw absently.

Murphy was leaving no room for excuses, he was even speaking in hushed tones, keeping calm.

"I'll even lock the fuckin' door fer' yeh'…" Murphy said and he walked forward and around the bed toward the door but Connor stopped him with a light touch to his arm as he went to pass,

"Murphy-…" he huffed out.

"No bullshit, Connor…" his twin turned to face him properly, a foot away and the length of his lean body tense, "…I want te' know." He said firmly, eyes narrowed.

"Yeh' want te' know what?" Connor snapped, his tone quiet but harsh and he felt defensive now as he looked away from Murphy's intense stare but Murphy surprised him by grabbing his jaw so he couldn't turn away,

"Fer' starters, why the hell yeh' can't even fuckin' look at me anymore…?" Connor pushed his twin's hand off as his skin burned and tingled pleasantly from the brief touch.

Jesus, Connor had thought he could handle this but apparently not, especially not in the state he was in, after the day he'd had, not with Murphy so near to being fucking naked.

There was too much closeness, too much skin…too much had happened.

"Look at me Connor, or tell me why yeh' can't." Murphy pressed as he continued to avoid Murphy's eyes, said twin shoving at Connor's bare shoulder to turn him to face him. And with every touch Connor just wanted to grab Murphy, bring him close, skin to skin, breath to breath and to say 'Because I fucking want you…', but he couldn't, no, he had to walk away.

So he did, deliberately he walked away, putting space between himself and Murphy.

He could feel Murphy's unease building, it was a steady buzz in his ears as Connor went to stand near the window, heart beating wildly, mouth dry and tension mounting in his body.

He was so tired…

He heard Murphy huff, sounding incredulous at Connor's action of walking away before he spoke again,

"Yeh' seem fine and then yeh' don't and then yeh' won't look me in the eye and et's never been like this before. I don't fuckin' know what te' do." Murphy was talking evenly, still sounding mostly calm, if a bit emotional, "I tried givin' yeh' space, I didn't ask yeh' or nag yeh' about et' but fer' how long, Connor, huh, how long is et' going te' be like this?"

That was true, it had never been that bad between them and it hurt, deep in Connor's chest and he knew Murphy was hurting too.

Connor finally turned around to look at Murphy and their eyes met, blue on blue.

Murphy had come closer, he was a meter away, his broad shoulders tense, his fine eyebrows drawn together in a light frown, his pale, soft lips in a straight line and his eyes appeared crystalline as they caught the light shining in from the window behind Connor.

Murphy was gorgeous…the realization reoccurred to Connor at the same time as Murphy's restraint apparently broke. He stepped closer and then the gap between them was closed and he was hugging Connor, one arm around Connor's shoulders and the other tucked around his bare torso.

Connor and Murphy didn't hug.

The last time they'd properly hugged had been back in Ireland, when they'd been young teenagers, Connor couldn't even recall the reason for it.

So why…why the contact right then when they were near naked and Connor was going through the hardest, most disturbing emotional and physical shit he'd ever experienced in his life, why…?

Was God testing him?

Connor knew he'd fail… he knew he was not strong enough…

"We could have been killed today…" Murphy said again –warm breath- against Connor's bare shoulder, his twin's hold unrelenting, "…an' yeh've been acting like I'm not even here, Connor." His voice was breathy and his words muffled against Connor's skin.

But Connor heard him loud and clear.

Connor frowned deeply as guilt flooded his mind and that emotion mixed right in with his panic, his love, his inappropriate arousal from everywhere Murphy's skin and body was close and touching…it was chaos in his head for a few seconds before he closed his eyes against the noise and embraced his twin around his torso, hugging Murphy, holding him close and tight.

Reconnecting.

He had been practically ignoring Murphy since they'd returned to the apartment after the job and he should have known his twin would feel it, would hate it, especially after what they'd been through.

Murphy apparently had needed to bridge the gap between them just as badly, Connor should have known.

He inhaled quietly against the soap scented skin of Murphy's neck as the quiet settled in around them along with the cool breeze from the open window. Connor felt the damp residue of water droplets on Murphy's neck, against his lips, against his chin. He felt the smooth skin of his twin's back under his rough palms, he felt the strength of Murphy's arms, of his tight hold and the continuous warmth of Murphy's breath against his shoulder.

He felt the sensations everywhere. It was heavenly…yet so fucking evil.

Murphy drew back after a minute, not all at once, strangely enough he moved slowly so his hand rested on Connor's shoulder for a second and then he stepped back fully and for a moment Connor was at a loss as to the reason for the irritated look Murphy was giving him. And then his twin pushed his jaw out slightly, for no reason Connor could understand, he was pissed off.

Murphy gestured at Connor,

"See, I don't get et', I thought I knew what et' was in the beginning, so I told yeh' and you denied et'. And I couldn't think of any other reason fer' yer' restless sleepin', yer' frustration, you wanting time alone so often, but I was right." He was speaking quietly but his tone was clipped.

Connor frowned, raising his hands at his sides with his palms upturned,

"Whatre' yeh' on about, Murph?" his mind and body were still catching up after the influx of feelings and when Murphy gestured to his lower body Connor stopped breathing,

"I'm talkin' about the fact that yeh' need te' get laid, Connor." He said it so plainly, so innocently, so fucking cluelessly, "I keep tellin' yeh' that if you want te' I won't hold et' against yeh'." He pointed at Connor and rubbed his other fingers over his mouth before he cocked his eyebrow, "Do what yeh' need te' do, Conn, but just get yer' shit together cause' et' can't stay like this between us."

Connor stared stunned at his twin, he hadn't even noticed that he was hard, he'd just felt really, really good holding Murphy but he should have known, he should have been careful, mindful, he shouldn't have hugged Murphy back.

Shouldn't have gotten that close.

He felt angry all of a sudden, even though Murphy seemed to take his erection as a general manifestation of pent up sexual frustration and his twin was unknowingly giving him a way out of a horrible situation, Connor felt his emotions flare up, he felt sick and tired of lying just as Murphy kept accusing.

And Murphy was right, Connor didn't believe he was going to heaven anyway.

With a tense throat he started to say,

"Murph-…"

"Don't even fuckin' start, Connor, just be honest with me an' stop being so full o'shit."

"Murphy…" Connor said again, more firmly, stepping away from the window and approaching his edgy twin. Murphy watched him come closer but didn't move away or say anything and despite thinking that words might be the safer alternative to his honesty, Connor chose actions. Because he was already sinning and one more didn't feel like it would make his inevitable sentence in hell any more daunting.

So he placed his hand on the back of Murphy's head once he was close enough, fingers sliding into his twin's dark, damp hair and Murphy didn't react, he didn't pull away, he didn't suspect what Connor wanted, needed.

"Murph, s'not what yeh' think…" he said honestly, quietly, looking Murphy directly in the eye,

"Oh no?" this was said with quiet sarcasm, "Just what the fuck is et', then?"

As if to steady himself through the impending emotional impact of his physical confession, Connor raised his other hand and he held the side of Murphy's neck –Murphy's eyes narrowed- before he pulled Murphy into him as he leaned in himself.

He kissed Murphy that time with more confidence, lips flush against lips, noses pressing together at a slight angle.

The action was firm and undeniable, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Now Murphy would know. Now Connor was vulnerable. Exposed.

In that moment, he was completely in Murphy's hands.

He held onto the kiss for as many seconds as he could and exhaled slowly as the blissful sensation of it washed over him…whereas Murphy didn't breathe. And when Connor slowly opened his eyes from the fear he'd shut them with, he watched as first confusion flashed in Murphy's eyes and then realization accompanied by raised eyebrows and then a deep frown…right before Murphy's hands gripped Connor's shoulders and pushed him back to separate their mouths.

Their lips parted with a faint smacking sound. God, it was so wrong a sound and yet so good that Connor felt simultaneously sick and aroused…and then scared, because Murphy was staring at him. He hadn't taken a single step away, but the deep frown was in place and his lips were parted in silent shock.

Connor swallowed thickly and just stood there, breathing shallowly, heart beating rapidly, stomach fluttering, maintaining eye contact, waiting…

Then Murphy's mouth closed, he visibly swallowed and he raised his hands to remove Connor's from touching him.

Connor didn't hold on, he let his hands fall at his sides as the fluttering in his stomach turned to a cold weight.

Murphy's eyes moved between Connor and a random place off to the side a few times before he looked Connor dead in the eye again and raised an eyebrow,

"How long?" he asked quietly.

Connor wasn't having trouble looking at Murphy now, not with his secret out in the open,

"Probably longer than when I actually realized et'." He said honestly, quietly.

Not sure what to expect.

Murphy looked away awkwardly, an odd expression of uncertainty and worry crossing his face.

Connor knew he had to comfort his twin as best he could after such a revelation between them,

"I'm not askin' yeh' fer' anything, Murph, I wouldn't ever, not fer' somethin' like this," Murphy looked at him again so he continued to speak honestly, feeling relief at Murphy's reaction having not been disgust and rebuke, "I just didn't know if I could tell yeh', I didn't know if yeh'd hate me fer' et'." He admitted.

Murphy continued to stare at him and after a short while he shook his head,

"I don't hate yeh'." He said it so quietly Connor almost missed it even with how close they stood.

"…good." Connor said weakly, forcing a smile, "That's good, Murph, et's a relief."

Connor nodded after a few more seconds of awkward silence and then he decided to put some distance between them. Despite the new feeling of loss and hollowness he felt, Connor did feel better that Murphy knew what had been the problem, he was relieved that Murphy didn't hate him and he could only hope that the confession wouldn't change anything between them.

But he feared it, because only naivety could convince him that nothing would change, and he was not naïve.

He was limping toward his bed with an emotional ache in his entire body when Murphy spoke,

"Et's a mortal sin, Connor."

"So is murder, Murphy." He shot back instantly, unable to help the bitterness he felt at having that pointed out to him. He was upset over his situation, deeply, but he knew he had no right to be.

"That's done by God's calling." Murphy responded.

Connor snorted derisively, letting his bitterness seep into his tone,

"Aye, but et' doesn't change the fact that et's a mortal sin, we still have te' repent fer' et'," he turned around to look at his twin's back, "…an' what happens when we stop feeling remorseful fer' takin' a man's life, Murphy? Do yeh' even feel bad as you stand right now, did yeh' feel bad when et' was happening?" he was starting to get worked up, "In the end we're just fuckin' sinning, Murphy." He said harshly.

Murphy turned around now too and they looked at one another, Murphy looked conflicted and Connor was frustrated,

"Et's not the same thing, Connor." He said quietly, with a hint of hesitation.

"Oh aye, but et' is…" Connor said with false smugness, "…if I can be forgiven, can be given absolution fer' murdering men in cold blood then I can be forgiven fer'…" he found he couldn't say it for what it was out aloud, "…fer' this sin too." He settled for gesturing between them. And then he let himself be as open as he could about what he felt, openly displaying his emotions on his face as he looked at Murphy, "Fer' lovin' yeh' as much as I do, Murphy." His voice pitched slightly when he said the last part.

Murphy averted his eyes, glancing around as he ran a hand through his hair, their eyes having long since adjusted to the dark, Connor could see that he was stressed, frowning, thinking about Connor's words as he chewed on the inside of his lip.

Connor felt weak and his chest hurt, so he sat down at the foot of his bed and absently rubbed his hand over his left thigh, up and down, breathing deeply and fighting off the surge of emotions threatening to crawl up out of his throat.

"Yer' serious then," Murphy broke the silence and Connor looked at him, he'd been staring at the floor with a frown, "this is really what yeh've been wanting, what's been comin' between us?" Murphy asked, speaking just audibly.

Connor stared at him and nodded slowly,

"…make's sense now, doesn't et'?" he tried to smile again as he looked down at the burnt skin on his thigh.

"Aye…" Murphy answered quietly.

Connor sighed heavily and was about to pull himself up properly onto the bed to try and get some sleep –and try his hardest not to cry- when Murphy said something that threw him.

"Okay."

Connor looked at him again, confused, and placed the single foot he'd raised back on the carpeted floor, watching as Murphy walked over to him. Murphy swiped the back of his hand over his nose and mouth and then sat down next to him at the foot of the bed carefully, slowly.

"What?" Connor asked with a baffled frown.

Murphy looked at him closely, seriously…sincerely and then he nodded,

"I said…okay." He repeated quietly, his expression accepting but nervous.

Connor's stomach was doing flips upon flips and his breath was thinning out,

"Okay…what?" he narrowed his eyes.

Murphy sighed and raised a tentative hand, placing it at the side of Connor's neck as Connor had done to him,

"Okay, if et's what yeh' need, Connor." And he hesitated to lean in…but did so anyway.

Connor blanched, his mind reeled and he jerked his head back, grabbing Murphy's wrist lightly as he stared straight into Murphy's lightly frowning face and sincere blue eyes,

"Have yeh' fuckin' lost et'?" he shook his head, feeling all kinds of messed up over what Murphy had just said, all kinds of desperate to throw away his decency and just take what Murphy was offering, to just lean in and taste his twin's mouth properly, devour it. Connor clenched his teeth and absently squeezed Murphy's wrist, "I just told yeh' this is my problem, I'm not asking yeh' fer' anything." His voice was tight with emotion.

"No, you aren't," Murphy paused and lowered his voice, "I'm…givin' et' to yeh'." He said somewhat awkwardly.

Jesus fucking Christ…Connor wanted to kiss him.

Connor wanted to kiss his breath away, bite his lips, suck on his tongue, ravage his mouth...

But he couldn't take that from his twin, not just because Murphy was selfless enough to give it. And why the fuck was he even willing to give it? Was it out of pity? A sense of obligation? Wasn't he disgusted at the idea?

Connor ran his free hand over his face before regarding his twin again,

"Murphy…s'much as I…" he paused on a breath, eyes trailing over Murphy's lips as he squeezed his wrist, "…as I want te' accept, I can't have yeh' doin' somethin' yeh' don't want just because I do want et'." He said sincerely, the words felt like sand paper in his throat.

Murphy's gaze intensified further, he looked at Connor with all of his attention, all of his honesty and despite the nervousness in his tone he sounded sure,

"Et's always been that if you wanted et', I did too, an' vice versa, Connor." He started and Connor wanted to tell him that that was a bullshit excuse in a situation that serious but Murphy didn't give him a chance, "And even if I don't know that I want this, or that I can even really give et' to yeh'…" his tone was quieter now, "…I can't go te' heaven without yeh', Connor, an' I'd follow yeh' te' hell. Remember…chuardach mé do m'anam , ach m'anam ní raibh mé in ann a fheiceáil." (I searched for my soul, but my soul I could not see.)

Connor frowned but filled in as expected at Murphy's purposeful pause,

"Chuardach mé do mo Dhia, ach tá mo Dhia eluded dom." (I searched for my God, but my God eluded me.) He added quietly.

Murphy wasn't smiling but his tone was still sincere as they finished together,

"Chuardach mé do mo deartháir agus fuair mé go léir trí." (I searched for my brother and I found all three.)

It was a saying they'd often recited as young boys, something their Ma had never approved of, she used to call it blasphemy. But for Connor and Murphy it had rung truer than anything the bible had ever told them about love and family. It still did.

Murphy didn't look like he was saying anything he didn't mean with absolute certainty and Connor's resolve to deny himself those lips, that kiss and taste was getting weaker the longer Murphy stared at him expectantly.

He searched his twin's blue eyes, struggling to believe what was really happening, and slid his hand so he was holding Murphy's hand instead of his wrist, his will crumbling, his heart racing,

"Murph, if yeh'…" Connor breathed out, then swallowed, his emotions, excitement, love and fear all warring for a place in his chest, "…if yeh' don't want te', if yeh'…if yeh' can't, then yeh' say so an' don't-…"

"Aye, Connor…" Murphy said evenly, voice still quiet and he was somehow managing to be Connor's anchor when Connor should have been the one reassuring Murphy.

And then Murphy was waiting, he was waiting for something…for a kiss?

It would probably be a test for Murphy, a trial run to see if he could kiss Connor, or at least that's what Connor guessed as his heart palpitated and the lines of his brotherhood, religion and morals all blurred together.

As it sunk in that it was real and that he had permission to kiss Murphy, Connor was having trouble breathing because this was it, this was what he'd been so afraid of yet had wanted and needed for so long now. Murphy was allowing him…closer.

Murphy was allowing incest between them.

Connor felt both guilty and pathetically grateful for the love his brother had for him, truly unconditional.

He stared into Murphy's eyes and then at his mouth and Murphy subconsciously licked his lips and took a small breath in through his nose, watching Connor closely, watching Connor watching him.

And there was no reason left to hesitate so Connor chose not to but he wouldn't rush it either.

He would savor it.

He brought his free hand up and again smoothed it into the hair at the nape of Murphy's neck, where his twin's hair felt so soft and cool against his fingers and then Connor leaned in, slow enough that Murphy could pull away if he wanted to. And when Murphy didn't but instead leaned in just slightly, Connor kissed his lips once softly and paused, swallowing thickly before he drew back and looked into Murphy's unreadable gaze,

"I love yeh', Murphy." His voice was nearly a whisper.

Murphy didn't say anything, and if he'd been intending to, Connor didn't allow him because he kissed him again, just lips, sealed and smooth and warm and with soft exhales of breaths over each other's faces.

Murphy's hitching and Connor's in bliss.

Connor wanted it to be slow, like he'd imagined sometimes when he allowed his thoughts to get carried away.

So he kissed Murphy softly that way a few times, just presses of their mouths, slow draw backs, small head tilts and brushes of their lips. And when Murphy's eyes finally started to drift closed and his lips puckered a few times to return the kisses, Connor felt a powerful wave of arousal move through him and he let his tongue slide out and gently he licked along the inner seam of Murphy's lips which were already slightly parted.

Jesus fucking Christ. It took all of Connor's strength not to just overwhelm Murphy's mouth, just the sensation alone of his tongue sliding against Murphy's lips hardened his cock to full mast.

Murphy breathed shakily after the touch of Connor's tongue, his eyes opened again briefly and he looked into Connor's for a few seconds before he swallowed, parted his lips a little further and leaned back in. Connor stifled a moan when Murphy's mouth pressed to his with a soft inhale, their sets of lips both open just enough to feel warm, moist breath and wetness from the other, and it was the most incredible sensation for Connor, despite the joining of their mouths being a bit uneven.

Neither had kissed another person in years and Connor wondered if Murphy was as overwhelmed as he felt.

Connor waited –impatiently and desperately- for a few seconds as Murphy adjusted, breathing shakily against his mouth and then Connor offered his tongue gently, sliding it slowly into Murphy's mouth and Connor did moan that time when his deeper kiss was accepted by the further parting of his twin's lips as Murphy's eyes slid closed again.

He was unable to help the sound he made, the absent grip he took on Murphy's hair, the tightness with which he squeezed Murphy's hand…when the warm, wetness of Murphy's tongue and mouth was finally there for him to taste.

And Murphy tasted pleasantly bitter from smoking, a strong burning flavor that Connor was familiar with.

Connor pressed forward eagerly and he covered his mouth over Murphy's as gently as he could as his arousal started to impair his control. His tongue crossed into Murphy's mouth with several slow, deep strokes, moving confidently against Murphy's own more hesitant licks.

Connor released his twin's hand and instead held Murphy's face with both hands as they continued to kiss and he tilted Murphy's head to accommodate his angles as he led the kiss, becoming slightly rougher the more he tasted, the more Murphy's breath hitched and the more turned on Connor felt by the second.

Murphy was divine, the warm, wetness of his mouth, the quiver of his breath, the slide of his tongue and lips…

Connor kissed and sucked on Murphy's lips and tongue hard enough to leave red blotches on his mouth, he also used his teeth on the occasional draw back for air and within a few minutes Murphy was breathing heavily into his mouth and Connor had never so badly in his life wanted to intimately touch another human being as he did Murphy right then.

His own aroused state didn't even matter, he wanted to put his hands on Murphy, everywhere.

But Connor was not completely lost to his twin's state, it was impossible to be when their minds were connected and aside from the current of anxiety buzzing in his ears, he noticed something in Murphy's deep breathing as he raked his blunt nails up into Murphy's hair. It was uneven, shaken, and Murphy's one hand was pressed to the front of Connor's shoulder, just over his collarbone.

Connor realized then, when he took a moment to press a kiss to Murphy's mole, that the hand against his collarbone was a barrier, a way for Murphy to control the extent of the kissing while allowing Connor to do as much as Murphy could stand.

The hand was an 'in case' measure. Stationary and firm against Connor's skin.

Connor paused with his mouth inches from Murphy's irritated red, kiss-swollen lips as he swallowed thickly and reined his arousal in so he could think straight. It wasn't that Murphy hadn't been kissing him back, because he had, but when Connor stopped ravaging his twin's mouth long enough to think about it, he realized he'd been doing most of the kissing whereas Murphy had been intermediately participating.

Connor felt a bit sick with worry and guilt as he pressed a light kiss to Murphy's cheek, then he brushed his lips from the mole to Murphy's mouth and he opened his blue eyes to find Murphy looking at him as he whispered,

"I'm sorry…" he rasped out, "…got a bit carried away, yeh' should've said." He continued quietly, stroking his thumbs over Murphy's ears.

Murphy sniffed and Connor suspected that the buildup of pressure inside his chest was the weight of their combined emotions right then,

"I would've," his hand eased up on Connor's shoulder, "I will…if I need teh'." He said back very quietly, obviously affected on an emotional level by what had just transpired but still maintaining eye contact which comforted Connor.

Connor wondered what Murphy was thinking after having just been kissing his own brother, he doubted it was the same as he felt, which was incredible, amazed, aroused and so fucking in love…still, Connor had to say,

"I'll never force yeh' Murph, I'll never insist." He tried to comfort his twin.

"I know, so shut up..." Murphy sighed and then he leaned forward so their foreheads pressed together and their breathing slowly synchronized.

Murphy's hand moved from Connor's collarbone to hold the side of his face just as Connor was doing to him.

"Connor…" Murphy said after a moment of silence.

"Aye?" he responded, wanting to kiss Murphy again but refraining and also trying to will away his straining erection tenting his boxer shorts, feeling rightful traces of shame at his physical state and grateful that Murphy was pretending not to notice.

Connor felt so pathetic.

"We need to go te' church." Murphy said quietly but insistently.

Connor tensed, clenched his jaw and forced down his sudden nausea at the mention of church while he sat with a raging hard on for his own brother.

He steeled his nerves though, knowing he couldn't deny Murphy that anymore. Connor sniffed and nodded, rubbing their foreheads together lightly,

"Aye, in the morning. I promise yeh'…" and he meant it.

Rain, it wets muddy roads
I find myself exposed
Tapping doors, but irritate
In search of destination...

Connor only thought about it when they'd settled into their separate beds a short while later, that Murphy had been wearing his rosary the entire time…and holding onto it throughout their kiss.

He shut his eyes tightly against the rising sickness he felt for what he should not have allowed Murphy to do for him and pressed his face into his pillow.

Guilt, so much fucking guilt.

It overwhelmed any good feelings he'd experienced that night and Connor knew he wouldn't get any sleep.

Still, he swore he'd let Murphy have his peace in church the following day. And in the meantime, he would not sleep, so he would not dream of regrets and fear and rejection.

But he would lay awake wondering what would happen between them after Murphy had been to church.

And he would lay awake with the pleasantly bitter taste of Murphy's mouth on his tongue all night, hoping desperately that he would get to kiss his brother again…and again and again.

Kosketa minua
Älä käsilläsi
Vaan niin että tunnen sinut
Halaa minua
Älä käsilläsi
Mutta sielussasi

(Touch me)
(Not with your hands)
(But so that I feel you)
(Hug me)
(Not with your hands)
(But within your soul)

*Judging by the cauterization method and how the twins managed the aftermath, I have decided to assume that their burns are second degree (deep partial thickness).

-End Lyrics are in Finnish