NB: Sensitive readers tread lightly.
Story Warnings: Incest, Language, Sensitive Religious Content, MalexMale
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 – David Della Rocco's full real name was used for the character of Rocco, as shown on the screen in the beginning of the first bar scene.
-This chapter has been censored to exclude explicit content.
-The AO3 upload is uncensored and has additional images.
Chapter Nine
It takes a lot to know a man
It takes a lot to understand
The warrior, the sage
The little boy enraged...
Rocco was dead.
They'd been strategic, they'd overestimated, planned for three unsuspecting henchman, four people total including Yakavetta himself. But they'd been wrong, there'd been two men outside when they got to the house and once they'd executed them –by Rocco's word that they were evil men-, the trio hadn't expected to be confronted with four more –waiting and armed- men inside at the basement stairs where they'd tried to enter the house from.
From there it'd all been downhill.
They'd been cuffed to chairs in the basement, the three of them in a row and then they'd been beaten, punches to the torso and to the face. Rocco got it the worst, from the second they'd been caught, the four henchman had focused on Rocco more than either Connor or Murphy.
Rocco and Murphy struggled against their captors, well, Murphy did more fighting than struggling and Connor hated hearing him shouting and screaming and grunting as he kicked with strong legs and wrenched his chair around. But his twin was strong and he gave the bastards hell, whereas Connor remained composed, he had to stay composed, he always had to be the level headed one.
Even when they hit him, or choked him. He endured. Head clear despite the pain from being beaten. Because Murphy and Rocco were in trouble and he needed a plan…some kind of plan.
Then Yakavetta walked in and again all the attention had been on Rocco and Rocco had a mouth that said the wrong things at the wrong times.
When Papa Joe shot Rocco's finger off and the blood splattered across Connor's forehead, his only thought was to kill Yakavetta.
And while Rocco screamed in pain and anger and shock, nearer to Connor than they'd put Murphy, Connor heard Murphy's screams louder, clearer, resounding in his head, reverberating inside his skull and his own throat felt raw from it.
Murphy hated to see people he cared about hurt, he'd always been that way, loyal and caring but dangerous and violent behind a smile and sweet face. God, Connor loved him.
And knowing how deeply Murphy was able to hurt…when Yakavetta put a fatal bullet through Rocco minutes later, Connor screamed before it even happened, looking past Rocco at his twin, because Murphy had known it was about to happen too and his eyes had been so wide in horror. Connor had been able to feel the painful pounding of Murphy's heart even as his own raced fast enough for them both.
Murphy lost it when Rocco hit the ground with a gaping hole in his chest.
Connor screamed Rocco's name as the deep ache of losing a friend entered his chest, whilst Murphy had tossed himself so harshly at Yakavetta's retreating form he'd nearly kicked him.
And then they'd been left alone and Murphy had thrown himself to the ground with the chair, all limbs and blood and screams as he pulled himself up alongside a dying Rocco.
Rocco said something as he lay dying, whatever it was made Murphy go still for a few seconds but the words were lost to Connor, since he'd started to lose it himself. Because Rocco was dying and he was about to take his last breath and Murphy was right there, right next to him…to watch it up close.
Twice…three times the pain, Rocco dying, Murphy's grief…and his own.
And when Rocco was finally gone they'd both screamed, it had been chaos, their shared pain was worse because they felt it themselves and for one another physically…and then Connor had to steel himself for the rarely seen hard edge of his twin.
Murphy went cold, his tears dried up quickly and not two minutes later he was waiting for Connor to break his hand to free him from the cuffs.
Murphy had to shout, insisting, at Connor twice before he actually forced himself and raised his boot to stomp Murphy's hand against the back of the steel chair.
Jesus Christ, he could still hear the subtle crack of bone…
And because he didn't want to have to do it too many times, Connor had tried to put a bit more force behind the second stomp…but a third was what did it. Murphy barely shouted or screamed, so how much pain he'd felt was only measured by the ache at the base of Connor's skull. And once Murphy was able to get his hand out of the cuff and separate himself from the chair so he was on his feet, he grabbed his Rambo knife from where their guns and coats had been tossed in the corner of the basement room and with a lethal look on his face, Murphy waited for any one or all of the thugs to enter the basement again.
Connor continued to keep his calm on the outside while his mind raged and raced and the smell of Rocco's blood coated his nose and throat so that he could practically taste it. Then again it might have been his own blood from being punched in the face…he didn't know and it didn't matter.
He didn't really give much clear thought to anything until Murphy had killed the henchman who came back to the basement to finish them off. He had keys on him and those were the first things Murphy searched for and then with adrenalin shaken hands, Murphy unlocked Connor's cuffs before doing his own.
Thereafter everything else fell away and they lifted Rocco's body and the chair back up to a sitting position with careful hands and emotional pain. They found their pennies with their belongings and weapons and with their breathing in sync they knelt down before their dead friend and bowed their heads after placing pennies over Rocco's eyes.
But they weren't able to pray for Rocco to completion because they were interrupted…
And Connor couldn't accurately describe the feeling he had when their attempted murderer turned out to be their father…when the man who'd nearly put bullets in both himself and Murphy and had taken Rocco's finger with another one, interrupted their deliverance.
He interrupted their deliverance… and then he'd completed their prayer himself, their family prayer…but he was family, so…
It takes a lot to know a man
A lot to know, to understand
The father and the son
The hunter and the gun...
Connor thought now, presently, as he smoked slowly on his eighteenth cigarette in the last two hours, that he remembered feeling sick to his stomach somewhere in all of his raging emotions, but there'd been some strange sense of relief too. However, he hadn't felt any kind of relief or happiness from Murphy, in fact he'd gotten a very dark vibe from Murphy in that moment, especially when their father, Il Duce, had touched their bloody faces, Murphy's dark feelings had flooded Connor's senses.
Connor had lowered and de-cocked his gun first, but he hadn't failed to notice that Murphy took a moment longer to lower and disarm his weapon. As if he'd only lowered his gun because Connor had, not because he hadn't wanted to shoot their own Da.
The feelings from his twin had been so ominous…and even right then they were still present, crawling under Connor's skin from where they lurked in Murphy's heart and mind. Crawling everywhere except where his bare forearm skin touched Murphy's as they sat closely side by side at their kitchen table, Paul Smecker and Il Duce sitting opposite them…in the aftermath of their failed execution.
In the aftermath of Rocco's death.
Murphy's arm, his skin against Connor's own was his only comfort right then, and not because of his perverse feelings for his twin, but just because it was warm and alive and real.
After Il Duce had found them in the basement, he'd simply said that they needed to leave.
Connor had agreed and again, Murphy had probably only acquiesced because of Connor's surety, because Murphy hadn't seemed impressed with their long last Da showing up. So after using ammonia to destroy the DNA in any blood they came across that could be related to them, they'd left Rocco's body there, where the police would find it and they'd contact Rocco's family.
And the twins would have missed Paul Smecker's unconscious form on the way out if Connor hadn't bothered to glance down as he'd stepped over the figure clad in women's clothing.
But luckily they hadn't missed him lying there and despite their Da saying to leave him, cop or no cop, Murphy had ignored the older man and he'd knelt down to wake Paul up and with success after a few slaps to the special agent's face, Paul had come around and they'd left with him.
In the past few hours that they'd been sitting and talking, Smecker had thanked them more than once since they'd saved his career by taking him out of there. If the police had found him with the unmarked gun he'd shot two men with while illegally infiltrating the home of a man who had yet to be charged with any crimes, he'd have been done for. Il Duce seemed unmoved by Paul's gratitude but he remained civil the entire time and Murphy hadn't said even two words, he just sat beside Connor, smoked cigarette after cigarette and stared at the floor or the far wall.
Especially when their Da explained that Yakavetta had agreed to get him released from prison so long as he did a single job for him. Murphy had chewed the inside of his lip, scrunching his mouth up, jaw clenched, eyes narrowing at the far wall and anger had radiated off him in waves that Connor doubted he'd been the only who felt.
Murphy was pissed off but he was biting his tongue.
That had been about twenty minutes ago, now they were all sitting in silence and Connor felt so tightly wound yet so exhausted. He scratched at the cut and bump on his forehead with his available fingers since he had his cigarette in that hand, his other one hadn't moved from the table beside Murphy's injured hand.
Smecker sighed then, breaking the silence.
His makeup was smeared in certain places, his wig abandoned and his clothes were untidy, under any other circumstances Connor would have laughed, but not in that moment,
"I'm gonna go home, get my shit together and tomorrow I'll find out what's happening with Yakavetta…" he stood up, still in his heels and looking oddly comfortable, Paul looked at Connor as he stuck his gun into his hand bag, "…call me at around noon, I should have news for you by then." He said evenly.
Connor just nodded and Murphy didn't even look at Paul.
After a glance at a stoic Il Duce, Smecker walked as far as the door to the kitchen and then he turned around,
"Are you still leaving town?"
Connor looked at him and he felt a pique in Murphy's emotions, he didn't need to look at his silent twin to know the answer,
"No, we're not leaving until Yakavetta is done with." He said firmly and felt some ease enter his connection with Murphy as he continued to smoke his cigarette.
Smecker nodded and then left.
For ten minutes of further silence their Da did nothing but sit and watch them and Connor wondered what he was thinking about, was he thinking about having missed them? Was he proud of the way they'd turned out? Was he disappointed? Did he see beyond Connor's calm exterior right into the heart of his twisted feelings for Murphy?
Connor and Murphy both reached for their cigarette packs at the same time, tapped one out, lit it up and inhaled. Connor scratched his neck as he exhaled through his nose and Murphy rubbed his fingers over his chin as he exhaled likewise…and Il Duce didn't blink.
'So that's it…' Connor realized, the man was fascinated by their brotherhood, their twin-ness, their connection, whatever he might like to call it. He'd never seen them together, not even as children, having left when they had been infants, so he was witnessing it for the first time.
Connor considered asking the man if he'd be staying the night as the silence dragged on but he didn't think Murphy would appreciate him making such an offer. Il Duce saved him the trouble of figuring a way out of the silence when he got to his feet, his chair scraping back loudly.
Connor looked up at him whereas Murphy spared a glance in the general direction of the chair,
"Yer' leavin?" he tried to sound casual about it, and not hopeful, but as much as he was vaguely relieved to have found their father, Connor wanted to be alone with Murphy.
Rocco was dead, they needed to be alone.
"Aye, boys, I'll be leavin' yeh' fer' tonight, I have some tings' I need te' tie up." At his words Murphy tensed, jaw clenched and Connor looked from him to their Da, who was pulling his coat on from where he'd laid it on the ironing board, "I'll be back tomorrow te' hear what that special agent has te' say and from there, we'll deal with Yakavetta." He walked back over to them, closer, apparently completely clueless to how uncomfortable he was making Murphy.
Or maybe he just didn't care.
He raised his gloved hands and touched their heads and their cheeks lightly, Murphy stayed completely still and Connor just endured the few second touch that was probably some expression of affection, and when it was over, Il Duce left.
The kitchen door swung, his boots sounded down the hall and then the exit door opened and shut and he was gone. Finally, they were alone. Completely alone…without Rocco even.
Connor allowed some silence between them, a few minutes before he took in a steady breath and looked at Murphy's unchanged side profile,
"How're yeh' doin', Murph?" he asked quietly.
Murphy frowned, chewed his lip, sniffed and exhaled the smoke he'd been holding in before he shook his head,
"He shouldnt've gone that way, Connor." He said quietly.
Connor nodded, staring at Murphy with sadness and ever present love, adoration for his sibling, his everything, still alive and breathing,
"I know, Murph but we had no way of stopping Yakavetta." he tried to comfort Murphy with words.
But Murphy surprised him by sobbing once, eyes squeezing shut. He'd been so shut down all night that Connor was unsure of what to say at first as Murphy leaned his forehead in his cigarette hand, rested against the heel of his palm as he sobbed again, slowly…but surely, he was breaking now that they were alone.
Connor swallowed tensely, feeling the pressure of Murphy's emotions in his chest. He placed his own cigarette in the ashtray and turned his full attention to his twin, resting a warm, rough hand on the back of Murphy's neck, warm skin to warm skin, because they were alive and it was important to remember that,
"Okay there, Murph…" he said gently, leaning close, his chest to Murphy's shoulder, "…Rocco was a decent man in the end, he'll be in good hands, brother." He rubbed his fingers into Murphy's tense neck, massaging lightly.
Murphy's cigarette continued to burn, smoke swirling into the muggy, smog filled kitchen and he continued to sob quietly, a few small tears made it out of his eyes, landing on the cheap table top,
"It-….ts' my fault, Con-nor…" he managed out from behind clenched teeth.
Connor frowned at that and he held Murphy's neck firmly as he grabbed his twin's face with his other hand, turning his head so he could look him in his watery blue eyes.
"What're yeh' talking about, Murph? How's et' yer' fault, that's crazy tal-…"
"No Connor…" Murphy said with his watery eyes narrowing, filled with guilt as he sniffed, "…et' was because of me, I wanted te' bring him in, et' was my idea te' go after Yakavetta…" he sobbed again and his voice was tight with guilt, "…et' was me, Connor, I told him te' take the credit fer' killin' those mafia men at Copley Plaza…me, Connor, Rocco is dead because I put the target on his back, I-…"
Connor patted his cheek somewhat hard, a light slap,
"Shut et', Murph, I won't let yeh' convince yerself' of that bullshit…" he said firmly and for a few seconds Murphy looked so incredibly young, Connor felt like they were 14 years old again and their family pet from their mother's generation had just died of old age.
The look on Murphy's face made his chest ache and he felt his eyes burn as well.
"Rocco wanted in, Murph, he was sick of the mafia, he wanted te' kill them all, remember." He quoted the words Rocco had spoken and then he absently stroked his fingers over Murphy's ear, "He wouldn't blame yeh', Murph, he died fer' a cause, fer' a good cause…"
"He died because of us, Connor." Murphy rasped out, expression pained and Connor moved his hand to the back of Murphy's head, into his hair so he could press their foreheads together,
"He died fighting alongside us, for us, Murphy…" he said firmly and Murphy sobbed very quietly, eyes closing as a few more tears left his eyes, tears that Connor wiped at lightly with his other hand, his fingers and his thumb, gentle touches, "…and we'll avenge him, Murph, we'll do right by him, I swear et' te' yeh'. God as my witness…" he said the last part breathily, lowering his eyelids to half-mast and pressing a kiss to Murphy's cheek bone, feeling dampness from tears against his lips.
Murphy sniffed, sobbed again, pressed his forehead against Connor's cheek and clenched his teeth,
"Beidh muid a mharú dó." (We'll kill him.) Murphy breathed out angrily and his hand still holding what was left of the cigarette reached up to grip Connor's shoulder, a handful of his shirt.
"Aye…we will." Connor pressed another kiss to Murphy's damp closed left eye, just next to some mild swelling from where he'd been hit in the face.
Then he kissed Murphy's temple, then his forehead, the bridge of his nose, slowly he brushed his lips along Murphy's clammy, warm skin to kiss his other eye, his other cheek bone, all the while his fingers caressed lightly over the side of Murphy's neck, over his ear and Connor listened to his twin's breathing slowly calm down and even out, his sniffles were quieter and his sobs had stopped.
Connor repeated the slow kisses again and when he reached Murphy's forehead a second time his twin asked,
"What the fuck are yeh' doin'?" his tone was light, his voice muffled from congestion but there was no rebuke in his tone.
Connor laughed quietly against Murphy's skin and then he said what he honestly had felt he was doing,
"Tryin' te' comfort yeh'…" he sniffed as well, "…is et' workin'?"
Murphy opened his eyes and he drew back so they could look at one another, he was frowning with an odd twitch happening to his features,
"I think et' is…" he sounded disbelieving, even as he smiled and Connor did too.
"Would yeh' look at that, me kissin' Macho Murphy's boo-boo better." He teased with a small grin. Murphy knocked his forehead into Connor's with a small bit of force,
"Fuck you." Connor snickered softly and pressed their foreheads together again as they both sniffed, the tension had eased from Murphy's body somewhat, Connor could feel it in their connection and he heard it in the soft exhale Murphy made.
They were quiet for a minute and in that time Connor had been staring at Murphy's injured hand, it was wrapped in a bandage and it was swollen.
"I tried te' dislocate et'…I didn't want te' break yer' hand." He said by way of an explanation.
"I don't think et's broken too badly, Paul felt around before he bandaged et'…he said if I get et' set and cast soons' possible et'll heal fine, so yeh' did right, Conn." Murphy leaned back so he could shift in his seat and lean forward on the table, dropping his burned out filter in the ashtray.
Murphy put a new cigarette in his mouth, held it between his lips and then picked the lighter up and lit it, his eyes were slightly puffy and he looked tired and scratched up but still gorgeous. Connor leaned back in his chair and rubbed his fingers into his eyes and his hand over his face, trying not to let his mind wander to inappropriately timed thoughts.
"So, Smecker will let us know tomorrow what's going te' happen when the police start investigating Yakavetta an' then we'll all start planning."
"All?" Murphy asked tensely, looking back at Connor over his shoulder, gaze serious.
Connor nodded,
"Us two, Smecker and…Noah." He couldn't bring himself to call the man Da, he wasn't sure he would ever be able to.
Murphy got up then, rubbing the heel of his good hand into his eye as he did a quick pace and Connor figured he knew the answer before he asked the question,
"What's wrong, Murph?"
His twin didn't hesitate,
"He's not a good man, Connor."
Connor raised an eyebrow and sighed as he reached for his nearly empty cigarette pack, waiting for Murphy to go on since he could sense there was more to come.
Two drags on his cigarette later, Murphy spoke up,
"He's a hit man, Connor." He said with ample disgust, "He traded a favor with the fuckin' mafia, if he hadn'ta been in jail he'd have taken money fer' a job, money fer' his 'services'." Murphy made inverted commas with his fingers, face expressing his distaste and anger.
Connor listened. Agreed with his twin's opinion. Understood where he was coming from.
"He's not like us…" Murphy's nostrils flared when he exhaled loudly and harshly, "…he tried te' kill us and he nearly did, he's a bad man, Connor. Evil man…" Murphy cocked his eyebrow but didn't finish his sentence, still the weight of his words hung in the air.
Connor smoked and exhaled and cuffed a hand through his hair before he decided to answer his twin's expectant look,
"Murphy, we can't kill our own father." He said plainly, pulling his face.
Murphy glanced around and nodded,
"I know, but we can't work with him either."
Connor sighed,
"We should give him a chance-…"
"Fer' what reason, have yeh' lost yer' fuckin' mind? Did they hit yeh' too hard in yer' head?"
Connor hated that this could turn into an argument, he was too tired and he didn't want to fight with Murphy, he wanted the opposite of anything to do with fighting with his twin.
"Murph, he was on a different path-…"
"Aye, the same one that landed him in jail probably." Murphy said surely but Connor didn't back down, sometimes making Murphy see reason took a little work, and a few hard truths,
"The same path Rocco was on…" Murphy stilled, chest rising and falling as he stood, "…an' if yeh' hadn't given him a chance te' join us, he'd have ended up killed by the mafia or in jail himself." Connor said calmly, watching Murphy absorb his words and weigh them, eyes trailing over the floor.
When nothing was forthcoming from Murphy, Connor stood up and walked over to Murphy a few feet away,
"I'm not sayin' we just blindly accept him, but we owe him a chance, about as much as he owes us his guns an' Yakavetta's life for Rocco's."
Their eyes met and Connor watched as Murphy thought it through and then he nodded slowly,
"We'll give him a chance, one chance, te' change his path…"
Connor nodded,
"…an' if he doesn't we'll leave him be, leave him te' his fate." He answered the unasked question.
Murphy nodded again and finished his cigarette in two long drags before stifling a yawn,
"Christ, I'm fuckin' tired." He sighed.
"Me'self as well." Connor agreed.
"I'm goin' te' take a shower…" Murphy sniffed as he pulled at his dark, stained, turtleneck, "…I've still got Roc's…blood on me…" his voice hitched lightly.
Connor slapped Murphy's shoulder lightly,
"Go clean up." He encouraged and after a short nod from Murphy, his twin dropped his filter in the ashtray and then went out into the hall to do just that.
Connor locked up the apartment, then to pass time he took all of Rocco's clothes and his few possessions lying around and shoved them into black plastic bags with a lump in his throat. He threw out any beer cans and bottles lying around, emptied out the ashtrays, threw away the takeout that was old, empty or wasn't going to be eaten and finally he washed the few dishes.
Much like other nights, Connor made his way straight into the bathroom once Murphy was done and he cleaned up, showered the blood and sweat and grime from his skin and hair, then he soaked his sore muscles for a few minutes longer and finally he brushed the stale nicotine taste from his mouth.
When he walked into the bedroom it wasn't in darkness, Murphy was sitting on his bed, a cigarette suspended from his lips and eyes squinted against the smoke as he slowly worked on bandaging his broken hand in a fresh wrap. Connor rolled his eyes as he walked over,
"Didn't want te' ask me fer' help?" he sat down on the bed, the same side as Murphy and gently reached out and took over the bandaging.
Murphy sighed as he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray between their beds after finishing it,
"Just tired of actin' like a pussy, cryin', needin' help with stupid shit."
Connor considered and reconsidered not teasing him but ultimately gave in,
"Don't worry, Murph, et's okay te' cry, yer' crying was very manly…" he said with a snicker.
Murphy narrowed his eyes at Connor,
"Connor…don't even start…I'm warnin' yeh'…"
"I'd suggest tryin' te' deepen et' up in future though…"
"…I'm fuckin' warnin' yeh'…"
"…cause' et' got a bit girlish at the end there, just a wee' bit…"
"…fuck you!"
There was no third 'warning', Murphy always stopped after two and Connor expected it when Murphy tackled him and it was refreshing to play around, especially after the day they'd had and even with his injured hand, Murphy was putting some proper fight into it. Connor did too, while holding onto his towel and after a few tackles Connor had to flee, laughing as he retreated across the room,
"Now gimme' a minute here, Murph, I'm in need of some boxers before I can win this little bout an' teach yeh' a proper lesson." He said as he yanked the drawers open.
Murphy laughed too as he flopped onto his bed, face first into the pillow before he rolled onto his back.
Connor glanced over at his twin as he pulled on boxers under his towel, Murphy was watching him,
"27 years, Connor…" Murphy said audibly, "…27 years of our lives an' that's the first time I've seen yeh' hide yerself when dressin'." He pointed out as if it wasn't an awkward topic as he lay comfortably in just his boxers.
Connor hung his towel over the door, too lazy to go back to the bathroom and he walked over to his bed as he addressed Murphy's comment,
"Well, things are a little different now, Murph."
"Et's not…" Murphy sat up, leaning on his elbows, "…I told yeh' I'm fine with what yeh' want."
Connor raised an eyebrow as he sat on his bed, back against the wall and his pillow,
"What's that even s'pose te' mean? It doesn't address the issue…" he looked at Murphy as his twin stared back at him, "…yeh' know, the physical implications an' shit."
Murphy snorted and sat up properly, swinging his legs off the bed and he sat facing Connor's bed,
"The physical implications…? Oh, fer' fucks sake, Connor, we're grown men, if yer' referring te' getting hard, then just say so."
"Christ, Murphy…" Connor slid down on his bed and shook his head, ears getting hot.
"Et's not as if I didn't notice et'." Murphy added, looking amused.
"Alright, fine…" Connor said irritably and glanced at Murphy, "…so I got hard, doesn't mean I need te' advertise et' to yeh'."
Murphy made a laughing sound, it was almost smug,
"Well et's fer' me, idnit?"
"Murphy, Jesus, would yeh' shut the fuck up about et'." Connor sat up too, pulling himself to sit upright against his pillow and the wall again.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Connor, I thought et' was what yeh' wanted?" he sounded accusing now.
Connor sighed and looked at him,
"Aye, et' is, but what I want…" what he felt he wanted deep in his bones, "…et's too much fer' yeh' Murph, I can't ask et' of yeh', I won't." he shook his head lightly.
Murphy got up and went over to sit on Connor's bed, shifting so he was sitting beside his twin, both of their backs to the wall,
"…not right now, no… but s'not te' say I never will." He said quietly, leaning the side of his head against the wall and looking at Connor, nothing but honesty and love in his gaze.
"Even if yeh' never can, as long as yer' with me, Murph…" Connor mumbled, looking straight into Murphy's eyes.
"And I will be…forever, brother."
Connor smiled lazily,
"Yeh'd better, Murph."
Murphy smirked, eyebrow cocking,
"Cause' yeh' need me, admit et', yeh' do." He was teasing but Connor was serious,
"Aye, I do. I need yeh'." He gladly admitted, head leaned back as well.
Murphy just snorted softly, smiling as they stared at each other.
Then the words left Connor's mouth before he could stop them and he asked quietly,
"Can I kiss you, Murph?" he felt he had to ask, after their loss that day, he didn't want to just take anything from his twin. Murphy bobbed his eyebrow slightly upward,
"Aye, yeh' can…"
Connor leaned in and kissed him, mouths open, deep and slow and wet and all the best kinds of sinful and after a minute he drew back because a question that burned in his mind was making its way up his throat. Connor let his lips linger near Murphy's as he spoke,
"Did yeh' ask God te' forgive yeh' when we went te' church, were yeh' sorry for this, Murphy?" he asked quietly, intimately, his Veritas tattooed hand moving gently along Murphy's collar bone.
Murphy licked his lips, swallowed slowly and with an honest gaze he frowned slightly,
"No…I didn't…I chose te' give this te' yeh', Conn," he said just as quietly, "I'm not sorry fer' et'."
Connor smiled and his chest and throat felt tight with emotion as he kissed Murphy again…and for a long while.
Later, when they'd become too tired, their lips were red and swollen and their jaws were a bit sore, for the first time in years, they chose to sleep in the same bed. As close as they needed, as they both wanted, and Connor doubted there'd ever be anything as perfect as falling asleep with the scent of Murphy's skin and hair dominating his senses and his body that close.
Whatever the following day held…Il Duce, Smecker…Yakavetta, they would face it together.
What are you so afraid to lose?
What is it you're thinking that will happen if you do?
1 Month, 14 Days Later
The police had launched a new investigation into Yakavetta after finding the many dead bodies, including David Della Rocco's, in Papa Joe's Boston home just a few hours after the incident, due to an 'anonymous tip'.
Rocco's family had long since held an open funeral for him and Connor and Murphy had attended, but they'd kept their distance because Smecker had warned that the mob would be keeping an eye on all things 'Rocco'. They'd be looking for accomplices, since Rocco was the only one they knew for sure had been involved in the vigilante murders, aside from Yakavetta himself, who had seen the twins but had no idea who Connor and Murphy were.
Smecker's latest update was that the police knew that the 'mafia killing vigilantes' had been at the crime scene. So predictably, all of the mafia murders were credited to the 'vigilantes'. But even with that, there were plenty of discrepancies and holes in the case keeping police busy, such as the fact that Rocco's body had been beaten and cuffed to a chair and he was the only person in the house of dead bodies who'd had pennies in his eyes. Also that none but two of the men killed by gun shot, including Rocco, were shot with the weapons that the 'vigilantes' used.
Smecker had told them this information when he'd come to see them –which he did only when he could manage it between work- two days earlier at their new apartment. Another new place, the one they presently shared with their Da since he'd walked back into their lives weeks ago.
Paul had gone on to tell them that the investigation could get complicated because of extenuating circumstances and inconsistencies, and complicated was bad because it left room for error and created loop holes for Yakavetta. He explained that the state was aiming to dredge up any charges formerly laid against Don Papa Joe in the past few years in hopes of nailing the bastard, but Smecker didn't look like he thought anything was going to stick.
Yakavetta had been acquitted twice before and he had a way of keeping his nose clean.
The idea of Yakavetta getting off scot-free had instantly put Murphy in a bad mood, or a worse mood rather, since he'd been on and off mood wise since they'd decided to give Il Duce a chance to be a part of their lives and their duties to God. So finding out that they weren't getting anywhere with Yakavetta, because the state wasn't looking so good on landing a conviction, coupled with the fact that Papa Joe was so highly guarded at all times, which made it impossible for the twins to get to him, made Murphy really angry.
And Connor understood and he empathized with his brother, because Yakavetta had a debt that needed to be paid. Rocco's death was a weight that was heavy in Murphy and Connor's minds and hearts, more so in Murphy since he felt guilty and directly responsible.
For that reason, Connor decided he'd think on it and come up with a plan that wouldn't involve legal red tape.
19 Days Later
Connor was watching the news when Yakavetta's court date was publically announced and the idea hit him just seconds into the broadcast, and it was pure gold.
He quickly got up from the couch in the small lounge of the two bedroom apartment they'd recently rented and walked into the kitchen, to the window which opened onto the fire escape, where Connor knew Murphy was sitting and smoking…away from Il Duce.
Murphy had yet to warm up to their Da, despite the fact that their father had been in their company or general vicinity every single day. It was hard for Connor for personal reasons when it came to wanting to be alone with Murphy, but the man had told them he was dedicated to their holy cause and he hadn't yet faltered.
But Noah, for all of his dedication, didn't seem as interested in the personal acts of religion as they were, his confidence in God seemed to come from somewhere different. He spoke confidently and powerfully of his belief in God without ever practicing outwardly…but to Connor, and Murphy more so, something about it felt empty.
After all, their Da had been a hit man, a contract killer…and yet in all the time they'd been with him he'd never seemed remorseful for it and his dedication to God seemed almost superficial, selective.
Connor tried to keep an open mind though, especially since they didn't know the circumstances of how he'd ended up doing that for a living, but Murphy was less forgiving. Most of the time he just seemed to take a cue from Connor on how best to react when Il Duce asked a personal question about their childhoods and adult lives and Connor had seen his twin sometimes just leave a room when their father walked in.
He assumed that the root of Murphy's resentment lied in the fact that Il Duce had agreed to do a 'hit' for the man who killed Rocco, and for the fact that as a contract killer, he would have killed Connor and Murphy too had they been less capable of taking care of themselves.
Connor didn't know if his twin would ever forget, even if he somehow forgave.
"Murph…" Connor leaned out of the window to check if Murphy was still there and sure enough he was sat two steps up, wearing faded blue jeans with a faded black T shirt. He was leaning back, his elbows rested one stair up either side behind him and a cigarette was suspended between his lips, with wisps of smoke floating into the air from his mouth and nose.
With the late afternoon sunlight set against Murphy's face, turning his blue eyes a translucent color, Connor had to force himself not to stare and grin like a love struck idiot.
Murphy cocked his eyebrow in question as Connor stepped out onto the fire escape, and Connor glanced back inside just to make sure he hadn't missed Il Duce lurking around, because he practically never had any time alone with Murphy these days.
Once he was sure, he sat down beside his twin,
"I do believe…" he paused to smile smugly, "…that I just thought of a solution te' our Yakavetta problem, dear brother."
Murphy removed his cigarette from his lips as he watched Connor,
"Is that right?" he smirked, "Before yeh' tell me, is yer' idea from another movie, dear brother?" he asked in a teasing voice.
The sun was warm on Connor's skin and Murphy's grin warmed the inside of his chest as well,
"As et' so happens, no," Connor said honestly, "et's all me' own and et' may just be my best yet."
Murphy raised his eyebrows and flicked his burnt out filter through the fire escape bars once he'd taken a final drag from it,
"Alright, so what is et'?"
Connor gave Murphy's face a slow, adoring once over as his brother exhaled smoke slowly from his nose and Murphy just watched him knowingly, his gaze calm and somehow intimate. As if he knew what Connor was thinking and was encouraging it with those damningly gorgeous blue eyes.
Connor had to take a quick, subtle breath before he could speak,
"They set a date for his court case, I just saw et' on the news."
Murphy pulled his face and sighed as he sat forward, absently looking down at his feet and rubbing his hands over his elbows where the traction patterns of the fire escape stairs had left red indents in his skin,
"Motherfucker is goin' te' get off scot-free an' then we'll never get close enough te' kill him ever again." He said quietly, bitterly.
"That's why we're goin' te' kill him at his court case." Connor said confidently.
Murphy looked at him with a frown and snorted,
"There yeh' go again, talking crazy shit like yeh've lost yer' fuckin' mind." He said irritably but when Connor just continued to look smug and sure and amused Murphy narrowed his eyes, "Fine, I'll play along…" he rolled his eyes, "…how the fuck are we going te' kill him at his court case?" he asked in a low tone.
Connor leaned forward as well, lowering his voice just as Murphy had so that any of the people who lived above or below them wouldn't overhear if their windows were open,
"Et'll be the only time Yakavetta isn't surrounded by his mob goons and the security guards at the courthouse itself won't be quite as trigger happy. They have te' protect the attending innocent people, yeh' know, act in the interest of the law, they can't just open fire on us…" he paused, "…do yeh' see where I'm goin with this, Murph?" he smirked.
Murphy cocked his eyebrow,
"Aye, I do, an' I still say yeh've lost yeh' fuckin' mind, Connor." He frowned deeper, shifting so he was leaning closer, their shoulders touching, "Yer' suggesting we walk right into a fuckin' courthouse, with loaded fuckin' weapons and shoot Yakavetta in front of a room filled with law officials and fuckin' witnesses. Do I have et' right?" his tone was entirely sarcastic.
But Connor didn't feel offended,
"Aye, exactly."
Murphy scoffed, laughing a bit before he rubbed his hand over his face and his mouth, shaking his head.
So Connor decided to explain,
"No one knows what we look like Murph, we can literally walk into that courthouse and not be recognized."
"An' what about the metal detectors, huh, Connor?" Murphy asked logically.
"We have Smecker on our side fer' a reason, Murph, if the man can't get us past a minimum wage security guard then he really isn't worth a thing, is he?" he shook his head.
Murphy continued to frown, but he was clearly considering Connor's point,
"An' what about the witnesses…" he gestured with his hand, "…there'll be cameras, Connor, the press."
Here Connor smiled, not grinned or smirked, but genuinely smiled, affectionately at Murphy,
"Let them be, Murphy…" said twin looked at him like he'd grown a second head, "…let us deliver Yakavetta to God where people can bear witness…" his tone turned meaningful, full of conviction, "…let us send a message, a warning te' all evil men that they should fear us." Murphy's eyes were starting to narrow, interest and understanding shining clearly,
"A warning…" Murphy said seriously.
"Aye…" Connor nodded, "…so what do yeh' think, Murph?"
Murphy smiled at him, his own honest smile, affectionate and loving,
"I think et's fuckin' genius."
Connor laughed quietly and tipped his head, expression smug again,
"Well, I didn't want te' say so me'self, but yes, et' is."
Murphy shook his head, grinning, before he reached up and grabbed the back of Connor's head and for a heart stopping second Connor thought Murphy might kiss him, but the glance his twin cast to the window told him Murphy wasn't going to be so bold or careless. He did however press their foreheads together and they closed their eyes for a few blissful seconds.
When Murphy drew back he asked,
"When is the court date?"
"About a month from now."
"Yer' going te' tell him yer' plan?" Murphy asked about Il Duce.
"Aye, I will." Connor answered, wondering if Murphy would ever stop referring to the older man as 'Noah' or 'him'. Connor had slowly started to use the word 'Da' and the man seemed pleased by it, but not Murphy, he wouldn't say it and when Connor said it he didn't look impressed either.
Murphy shifted so he could pull his cigarettes out of his jeans pocket as he sighed. Connor watched him for a few seconds and then he glanced to the window, the curtains were obscuring the inside of the kitchen from them and Il Duce had been in his bedroom all morning, so Connor took a chance on a small thing.
He leaned in to the side of Murphy's neck and said twin tensed at the risky action, even if it was mostly innocent, it wasn't something brothers did.
Connor pressed his lips in a soft, light kiss to the point on Murphy's neck where his pulse quickened, against his Mary Magdalene tattoo.
"Connor…" Murphy mumbled warily.
"Let's go out for a while, Murph, let's go te' church…" he drew back as he suggested this.
He and Murphy had been attending church –at odd, empty times of day- more regularly and Connor had slowly taken to praying with his brother as usual, even if not exactly as they had before, it was mostly the same.
And Connor had truly begun to feel better for it, his faith slowly but surely being reinforced and he felt stronger, even with the ever present sin of coveting his own brother, of being intimate with his own brother, he was still a man of God.
Although, he had altogether stopped considering asking God for forgiveness where his feelings for Murphy were concerned, since his twin had said he saw no reason to.
Connor still had more faith in Murphy than anyone or anything else.
And perhaps that one sin, their incest, was the one they would keep to themselves, with only God as witness to any of it.
Murphy turned to look at him and after a pause he nodded, his lips tugging into a small smile because church was somewhere Il Duce didn't question them going, and never ever chose to come along to.
So even if they wouldn't get any privacy, they would still have some time with just the two of them.
It takes a lot to give, to ask for help
To be yourself, to know and love what you live with...
When they'd been pulling on their coats and putting on their rosaries before they left for church, Noah had finally made an appearance, dressed in his usual dark clothes and he'd asked where they were headed. Murphy hadn't answered, he'd only glanced from Il Duce to Connor and as expected, Connor had answered, saying they were going to church.
Their father had nodded approvingly and bid them well and once they'd been alone, walking down the street in the direction of the nearest church, Murphy's expression of distaste at the older man's unwanted validation had finally eased away. And Connor had grabbed him around his shoulders and ruffled his hair with a hand playfully.
Presently they'd arrived back at the apartment an hour and a half later, locking the door behind them as they did out of habit when going or coming. They'd been talking about good memories from McGinty's and Murphy had suggested they should go and see Doc before they did their last execution, since after that they wouldn't get another chance. Connor agreed,
"Aye, we should also call Ma…" he added.
Murphy nodded,
"She'll probably be contacted by the police after they find out who we are, so we should let her know first."
Connor nodded as he pulled off his coat and dropped it over the back of the couch,
"I wonder if she'll be pissed at us?" he smiled.
Murphy had also removed his coat and he placed it on top of Connor's,
"She's crazy so I doubt et', but she'll definitely tell us te' be good boys…"
"…an' make us promise not te' fight." Connor added.
They smiled fondly as they thought of their mother and both of them headed into the kitchen, moving around in sync, grabbing select items to make sandwiches with, butter, ham, cheese, onion, tomato. Once they were done preparing their food, Murphy grabbed an apple and Connor grabbed a bag of potato chips and then they sat down at the table to eat.
Twenty minutes of eating passed and when they were done they smoked a cigarette and drank a beer each and only then did it occur to Connor that their father hadn't come out to greet them or even made a single sound or appearance.
Connor got up from his seat, carrying his near empty beer in hand, and left Murphy smoking and finishing the bag of crisps as he walked through the apartment, all the way to their father's bedroom, where Connor knocked.
There was no answer after three knocks so he opened the door and discovered an empty bedroom. He glanced around and saw that Il Duce's trench coat was gone, which likely meant he'd gone out.
It was a first, the man hadn't gone off anywhere on his own since they'd all moved in together, he'd either spend all day in his room doing God only knew what or he'd be in Connor and Murphy's presence.
But now…they were alone. In a private space. For the first time in two months.
Connor walked out of the bedroom, unable to help his mind from wandering to how he hadn't been able to get close to Murphy in so long, and he shut the door behind him before checking the bathroom on his way back to the kitchen. When he walked back in, Murphy looked at him whilst in the process of lighting a new cigarette and Connor raised his eyebrows,
"We're alone, Da's not here."
Murphy raised an eyebrow,
"Are yeh' sure, he's been here every fuckin' day for weeks." He said blandly, dropping his lighter on the table and scratching at the side of his head with his cigarette hand as he exhaled smoke.
Connor nodded as he sat down again,
"Aye, I'm sure, I checked his bedroom an' the bathroom, he's not here."
Murphy stared at him.
"What?" Connor asked with a frown.
Murphy's eyebrow tracked up again, lips pursing as a small smirk graced his face, his fingers fidgeting with the cigarette absently,
"Yeh' look a little warm." He said in a teasing voice and if Connor hadn't been blushing before he certainly was then,
"Oh, shut et'…" he sipped his beer and averted his gaze to the far wall.
"D'yeh' want to…?"
Connor looked at Murphy and was about to say 'what' again, when Murphy glanced in the direction of the hall…where their bedroom was.
Connor's mouth went dry, because what did that look even mean?
He decided to play along and tease right back, even as his stomach did unspeakably annoying butterfly flip flops,
"Oh, yer' quite bold…and what do yeh' suppose we'll do there that we couldn't do here." He asked because they'd never even been to second base.
Murphy continued to watch him, smirking, blue eyes intense and playful,
"We'll have te' see what we have time fer'." He said in a soft, intimate voice.
Jesus Christ, Connor already felt himself getting hard. It was kind of pathetic, especially since he doubted they'd do more than just some kissing and light petting, since that was as far as they'd ever gone.
Murphy stood up, cigarette in one hand and with his other he lightly cuffed Connor's head as he passed. Murphy didn't say anything, he didn't need to, Connor's shiver of anticipation was too strong to be just his own. Connor got up and followed, his beer abandoned, he didn't even hesitate as he made his way into their shared bedroom behind his brother, shutting the door after himself.
Murphy took a few finishing drags from his cigarette where he stood between their single beds and then he stubbed it out in the ashtray as Connor approached him. It was silent enough in the apartment that they'd hear if Il Duce came back and the man always knocked on their bedroom door which eased most of the concern about being caught doing something so sinful.
Connor didn't wait, he started kissing Murphy immediately after quickly licking his lips and Murphy inhaled audibly when their mouths contacted after so long, partially open and warm. He reached up to hold Connor's wrists when Connor took a hold of Murphy's face and the back of his neck, angling their mouths so he could kiss Murphy properly and deeply.
Murphy kissed him back with a little more vigor than he had the last time they'd kissed, 2 months felt like forever ago, and Connor felt a swell of excitement and hope at Murphy's eagerness.
He drew back from the kiss and instead pressed his lips to Murphy's chin, then his jaw, smiling,
"Yeh' seem a bit different, Murph."
Murphy moved his hands down over Connor's forearms and then settled them on Connor's lats,
"Aye…" was all he said in a low tone.
Connor wondered if that meant his brother was starting to feel something similar to what he felt for his twin.
God, he hoped.
He spent some time kissing Murphy's neck, enjoying the taste and scent and the sound of hitching breaths, daring to lick and kiss at the hollow of his twin's clavicle before he found Murphy's mouth again, where he lightly bit his twin's bottom lip on a heated exhale before he kissed Murphy again. Despite Murphy's bold words in the kitchen, Connor wasn't actually expecting more than kissing. So when his twin broke off the kiss and sat down on the bedside before leaning back on his elbow and gesturing for Connor to lay down with him, Murphy's gaze intimately intense, Connor's breath stuck in his chest and his mouth nearly fell open.
But Connor kept it together even as his pulse raced, he placed his hands either side of his twin's head when Murphy lied flat and Connor lowered his body weight slowly, adjusting his legs so one was positioned between Murphy's legs where they hung off the bed…and Connor couldn't help pressing his thigh against Murphy's crotch.
Murphy swallowed tensely, noticeably, at the pressure when Connor settled and it was clear that the direct contact of Connor's muscled thigh to his private area was pushing a boundary for him, even if it was through their clothes.
"Murph, we don't have te' do anything yeh'-…"
"S'fine, m'fine…" Murphy breathed out quietly.
Connor nodded after a few seconds of looking into his twin's blue eyes and then they kissed once, twice, small pecks before Connor sought a deeper kiss again. Connor hummed softly, relaxing his upper body against Murphy's as he lowered himself to his forearms and Murphy's breath hitched at the weight, the closeness.
Connor above him…against him…intimately. Sexually.
They spent a minute or so kissing before Connor shifted his thigh and he inhaled sharply when he felt it, pleasantly surprised –and so relieved- he could feel that his twin was partially hard inside his jeans. The movement made Murphy start and then still, almost as if he hadn't realized it himself until Connor applied that light rubbing pressure.
They stopped kissing and looked at each other with half lidded eyes and slow, heavy breathing and to Connor, Murphy seemed embarrassed. Connor didn't understand how or why, since he was fully aroused, but then again, he wasn't pressing that part of his body against his twin, so Murphy wouldn't know for sure.
So he did, slowly Connor adjusted his hips so that his pelvis was pressed against Murphy's through their clothes, eliciting a shaken exhale from Murphy, before Connor kissed his twin's cheek and then his ear,
"Can I touch yeh', Murph?" He whispered, eyes sliding shut as he pressed himself against Murphy again, and then again, a little firmer each time, slowly working up to a gentle thrusting motion.
Murphy's breathing became audible and quick and Connor waited –trailing light kisses along his twin's neck- until Murphy breathed out a quiet 'aye' before Connor kissed his mouth again. Slowly one of Connor's hands migrated lower, slipping between their bodies and Connor stopped the light grinding of their hips in order to cup Murphy's semi through his jeans with a firm hand.
Murphy made a muffled sound of shock into Connor's mouth and Connor had just about managed to stifle a moan when he felt the outline, the growing length beneath the denim of Murphy's jeans. He could also feel the tension mounting in Murphy, a steadily increasing buzz in the back of his mind, so he tried to diffuse it. Connor kept his hand still against Murphy as he forced control over his raging, long dormant sexual drive and then he drew back from the distracted kiss to smile playfully at Murphy,
"I guess we know now that I came out first." He teased his brother in a raspy, low voice.
Murphy's eyes narrowed, instantly his face flushed red,
"Oh, fuck you!" he said loudly and before Connor knew it Murphy had flipped them and he was straddling Connor's waist and holding him down by fistfuls of his shirt collar, "Yeh' can't claim that, Connor, I'm not even properly hard." He had the presence of mind to say that second part quietly, his face near Connor's own.
Connor just grinned,
"Oh, is that right?" he asked with a pleasant, teasing lilt, "Perhaps we should see what's te' be done about that." And he flipped them again.
But they'd run out of bed and wound up on the floor with a collective thud, neither twin was phased by it though, having grown up roughhousing they were used to worse.
In the end though, they weren't roughhousing and the atmosphere, the entire situation between them, was different. So when they landed, breathing heavily, flushed and aroused, with Connor between Murphy's legs and their bodies aligned in all the right places…they didn't continue to wrestle.
They looked at each other for a heated moment, blue eyes to blue and then Connor leaned in and inhaled deeply as he kissed Murphy roughly, balancing on one forearm as his other hand threaded into Murphy's smooth, dark hair, taking a light grip.
Connor started to move his hips again, pressing their bodies flush, rubbing their clothed bodies together.
Murphy made a groaning noise when Connor moved and his eyes slid shut as his hands moved to find themselves a place to touch, to hold on. One settled on Connor's lower side and the other tightly latched onto his untidy hair as Murphy's lean body pressed up into his.
From there it was a world wind of sensation for both men.
Having been celibate for years, they could do little else other than feel and just about remember to breath, getting completely lost in the sensation of dry humping one another, rubbing and pressing.
It was a simulation of sex between them, arousing them both for what it all could really be…the position, the thrusting, the mixed moans and grunts, the kissing, the feelings –pleasure and need and desire- and so many emotions neither had ever felt when they'd been with other people…it was hot and intense, sweaty and full of breathing, moving, moaning and clinging.
The pleasure Connor felt building in his body was amazing since he felt Murphy's too and vice versa. So when they came it was mere seconds apart, one triggering the other with the shared rush of orgasm, their mouths open, breathing harsh, lips sliding together as they groaned shakily into one another's mouths between sloppy kisses. Murphy was shaking, felt in the entire length of his body beneath Connor, who trembled as well, his full body weight rested atop his twin as orgasm moved through him in waves and pulses.
It felt fucking incredible.
"Fuck…Connor…" Murphy sounded slightly desperate and anxious too as he breathed those words.
And Connor wondered if the reaction was because the weight of their sin was a distinct presence in that moment. As was the wetness staining their underwear now that the friction and heat were gone, it was turning to cold, dampness mixed with their clammy sweat and the smell of each other's sex, the stench of their sin lingering in the air.
Connor only felt good, despite it all, but Murphy...
He swallowed tensely and they looked at each other, breathing heavily,
"Murphy…?"
Connor worried, deeply, that something would be wrong, that Murphy wouldn't be okay after that.
"Fuck…" Murphy said again, his expression tired, his bent up legs either side of Connor slowly sliding down so they were flat on the floor, "…I fer'got that et' felt so good." he stated quietly as he closed his eyes again and rested his head back against the floor, swallowing slowly, his breathing evening out.
Connor felt relief flood him and he rested his face in the crook of Murphy's neck as he laughed softly,
"Aye…I feel high."
Murphy snorted,
"…the fuck do yeh' know about feeling high?" he asked disbelievingly.
Connor raised his head, frowning down at his twin,
"Shut et', I know shit." And Murphy snorted again, opening his eyes just to roll them.
Murphy licked his lips then and surprised Connor by leaning up to kiss him, softly and slightly wet before he smiled, sincere and almost sweet. Connor hated that he felt the need to, but he asked,
"Are yeh' okay?"
Murphy's expression became serious but still relaxed,
"I am…are you?" his eyebrow hiked up slightly.
Connor just smiled whilst nodding and then slowly they parted and stood up, both uncomfortable in their sticky underwear and their skin clammy with sweat, shirts sticking to their upper bodies. But that didn't stop Connor from grabbing Murphy by the back of his neck without warning to kiss him once more, deeply and slowly with a desperation that was undeniably passionate and laced with love and need.
Murphy's ears turned bright red as his lips, mouth and tongue were thoroughly lavished with attention and it was nothing short of adorable to Connor when he broke off the kiss with an audible smack and took in the sight of his flustered twin.
Murphy took a few seconds, catching his breath as he worried his swollen lower lip with his tongue before he smirked and shoved Connor lightly as he claimed first dibs on the shower.
Connor could only snort and smack him upside his head as Murphy ducked by to get to the bedroom door while snickering.
When Connor stood alone in the bedroom a moment later, his body alight with the best feelings, his heart hammering away, and his stomach light, he was almost unable to believe what had just happened. If it weren't for the drying come in his underwear and the memory of Murphy's shaken, quiet moans against his mouth, Connor would never have believed it to be real.
But he felt blessed – and he was aware of the impiety in that feeling- and euphoric and everything good, nothing wrong and nothing evil and it had felt okay, far better than okay, it had felt right and Murphy tasted right and he felt right.
Connor inhaled deeply and then smiled to himself as he wordlessly thanked God for Murphy, even though he knew God would not approve.
...it takes a lot to breathe, to touch, to feel...
By the time they'd both showered, smoked several cigarettes, had had several beers and were lying in their individual beds in the dark…Il Duce had only just returned and he was closed into his bedroom again. Neither twin had asked about where he'd been and he hadn't said.
Connor still felt high and blissful as he lay in bed, every memory of touch and kiss with Murphy warmed him to the core and having his twin just about a meter away just added to his contentment. It was wonderful, he hadn't been so content, so happy, since before his feelings for Murphy had developed, when he'd been fine with only their brotherhood.
But there had developed a void deep inside of him when he discovered his incestuous feelings for Murphy and now, gradually, it felt as though it was being filled in, like something that had been missing was being replaced bit by bit.
Connor felt so peaceful and calm.
"YA ozhidal, chto eto chuvstvuyete, kak grekh , kogda vy kosnulis' menya." (I expected it to feel like a sin when you touched me.) Murphy said quietly and unexpectedly, speaking in Russian, which as far as they had learned was one of the languages they spoke that Il Duce could not speak or understand, along with German, "Ne tol'ko potselui, no na samom dele prikosnulsya ko mne , vy znayete?" (Not just kissing, but really touched me, you know?)
Connor opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as he absorbed his twin's serious words, Murphy's tone suggested he was thoughtful and he sounded tired, he was probably worried about repercussions and the Lord's forgiveness or wrath,
"Menya, kak khorosho , chtoby byt' chestnym , ya dumal to zhe samoye…" (Me as well, to be honest, I thought the same thing…) Connor said quietly with a light frown, "…that was before anything happened though." He added the last part in English.
"An' since?" Murphy reverted to English as well since the conversation could be understood as being about anything if Il Duce could hear them. Connor inhaled quietly, smiling slightly,
"Honestly?"
"Aye."
"Et' feels…" he hesitated, wondering if he'd upset Murphy by saying that such a wrongful thing had felt, "…right."
There was silence from Murphy for a painful, long minute before Connor dared to ask,
"An' what about you, Murph?" Connor breathed quietly and chanced a glance over to the other bed in the dark room, where Murphy was lying still, on his back, staring at the ceiling and Connor sighed and raised his hand to rub his face, frowning slightly.
Then Murphy inhaled audibly, slowly,
"Et' doesn't feel wrong." He practically mumbled.
Connor chewed his lip,
"What do yeh' feel?"
"Boyus'…" (I'm afraid) Murphy said so quietly it was practically a whisper.
Connor frowned deeply,
"Why?" was all he could think to ask.
"…because et' shouldn't feel okay, but et' does."
Connor felt relieved and he heard Murphy laugh quietly, he'd probably felt Connor's sudden ease of tension through their connection,
"I'm not going te' change my mind, Connor." Murphy said softly as reassurance.
Connor turned his head to look at Murphy through the dark and his twin did likewise,
"Unless yeh' really want te'…" Connor said despite how empty it made him feel.
But Murphy just smiled at him from across the short distance,
"I won't." he said simply and then turned to face the ceiling again, closed his eyes and made an honest effort to sleep as he exhaled softly.
Connor stared at Murphy's shadowed face for a long time, for long minutes until he finally drifted off to sleep to thoughts of Murphy's soft lips, his pleasantly bitter kisses and his truest smile.
...the slow reveal of what another body needs.