Okay, bad boy chapter did not want to be written. Those are always so much fun, if you ask me. But it does have a lemon, so yay! :)
JDB7707: Here's your smut. Hope your happy ;)
mrsreedus69: Yeah, shit's about to hit the fan if you haven't discerned that from the end of this chapter. And probably next chapter too. Can't wait! ;)
"How you turn my world, you precious little thing."
- Jareth, Labyrinth
The first heated discussion between Connor and Branna since Connor's return, had taken place one lazy, very warm and very sunny summer day. In fact, it had been an unusually warm and an unusually sunny Boston day, in fact. Sean was at a friend's house, leaving them alone to do whatever they wanted – an opportunity that Connor was already starting to cherish. Opting to spend that day in bed sleeping in, so far, neither one of them had made any inclination towards moving. They lay there naked on her great sheet-swathed bed, Branna on her back while Connor lay on his stomach in-between in her parted legs. One of her legs lay supine alongside him while the other was planted on the mattress and bent upwards at the knee. A callused hand gripped her waist as he planted leisurely kisses along the olive-colored skin of her stomach, hips and sides. Her eyes were pinned to the outside world beyond her opened windows and one of her hands lay deep within the ebony tresses spread out around her head on one of the pillows propped up behind her. The discussion had started because Branna had stupidly allowed her mind to wander into Murphy territory that lazy, very warm, very sunny summer day.
"Have ya told him anyting yet . . .?" Branna's quiet voice broke through the silence surrounding them. Her words seemed to fade them into an even deeper silence than the one they had been previously submerged been in until the only sounds around them were the honking of the cars driving down the road outside her window, to the air conditioning unit in her window. The air conditioning unit was the only source of coolness that was able to kiss at their still sweat beading skin, and Connor took a moment to tear his lips away from her to gaze up at her. His beautiful light brown hair matched the darkness of her skin in such a beautiful way and she knew the laziness in his eyes was a mere reflection of her own. He moved to entwine his fingers together and used them to support his chin on her stomach. With a gently teasing smile, he finally replied to her. Neither of them had the energy for the heavy flirtation and innuendo that normally laced their every encounter with each other.
"I haven' told him anyting aside from tha fact tha' ya aren' ready ta see him yet. Why – do ya want me ta tell him ya are?" He asked her, and Branna sighed as she turned her head to gaze down at him. Draped in a red silk nightie that had already been shoved up well past her hips and with long ebony tresses haloing her head against the white silk pillow behind her, Connor could never have envisioned a more beautiful woman lying before and partially underneath him.
She noticed the flicker of uneasiness in his eyes at his question, though, and knew in her heart that Connor no longer wished to share her with anyone at that moment and even probably for forever onward – including his brother of who he had done so before for quite some time. She also knew it was because of their son. Sean was a new variable in the equation and Connor didn't want anyone to come in and fuck up their relationship – the home life that they were starting to build for themselves and for him now.
"It's nothin', I suppose, jus' . . ." She shook her head. "Ya 'ave ta tell him somethin' eventually and tha longer ya keep him in tha dark wit me and Sean, tha more pissed off he's gonna be when ya finally do tell him! I mean, Hell, from what ya told me 'bout yesterday, he already seems like he's liable ta blow his stack any day now! And if ya found me, then what's ta say, he couldn'?" She told him and immediately noticed the flicker of resentment that appeared in Connor's eyes.
"Call me selfish, Branna, but I don' want anyone ta ruin what we havenow!" He shrugged in what he hoped was an indifferent manner but one that Branna could see was one of the hardest acts for him to ever have to try and play off differently than what it actually was. "An' it's not tha' I don' tink tha' Murph's gonna come in here and piss on everythin' we have, its jus' . . .!" He trailed off and a slightly sad look appeared in his eyes then. He didn't need to say anything more – Branna instantly understood what he was trying to say. She knew he often looked around the rooms in her apartment and found himself wondering if those walls could be persuaded to grow to accommodate him as well – if her bed and her heart could also after how he and his brother had so cruelly abandoned her. And no matter how much she found herself telling herself that this whole thing was only temporary, the more she realized that it wasn't. Connor's clothes were already starting to fill the drawers of her dresser and helping to line her closet. In addition, his toothbrush, cologne, razor and Irish Spring body wash were slowly starting to stake their own little individual territories in her bathroom. Her bed was starting to develop a very suspicious Connor-like indentation in the mattress, and no matter how many times she washed her sheets, they still retained a smell and a musk that was inherently Connor-esque. Hell, she realized that things were destined to become permanent, when she would walk into the apartment after work some days and see Connor and Sean sitting on the couch watching TV, eyes perpetually glued on the screen. The same bag of chips would be sitting in-between them and every single movement one of them would make, would be a mirror image of the other's – all happening at the same time.
And the more this went on, the more Branna realized that she didn't want this to end either. The more this happened, the more she realized that she didn't want to do this with anyone but Connor. That she had always wanted this with him - this happy, blissful family life they had now.
"Ya wan' ta keep this a secret 'tween us for as long as ya can, don' ya?" She asked him softly, and he glanced at her briefly before forcing himself to look away again.
"Yeah, well, there's no helpin' tha', now is there? Everyone's eventually gonna figure it out and like ya said, tha longer we keep Murph in tha dark 'bout this, tha more pissed off he's gonna be!" He turned his eyes onto her then, one eyebrow cocked in a rather sarcastic manner. "I'm actually surprised ya not beggin' me ta invite Murph over wit me one night. 'Cause, from wha' I remember, ya used to love it when we'd do ya at tha same time!"
He didn't see the scowl that appeared on Branna's face as he shook his head. He traced abstract patterns into the soft skin of her stomach - in the small stretch of skin underneath her belly button that had housed his child for nine long months. It had been nine long months that he had not once been a witness too, and every time that fact popped into his head, it saddened his heart more than anything ever had before. "But no . . . ya haven' brought it up once and I can' help but feel grateful. I don' wan' ta share ya anymore – not wit anyone but our son." His eyes finally connected with hers again and saw that her face was now expressionless.
"Ya tink I wan' ta share ya too, Conn? Ya tink I want ya ta have ta share me anymore?" She asked him, her eyes darkening slightly, and it was his turn for his face to become expressionless.
"I didn' say tha' – I simply stated tha' I was surprised -"
"I'm a mother now, Connor. I have to tink diff'rently now, ya know? And besides, I love ya – I don' want anyone else but ya right now! I want ta be selfish too."
"Well, excuse me if I brought it up after tha's how our relationship was in tha past!" He almost snapped back and Branna's jaw hardened slightly.
"Wha' do ya want me ta say, Conn? Tha' I regret the relationship tha' the three of us had back then? Tha' if given the chance, I wouldn' do it again?"
Connor laughed and rolled his eyes. "O' course not, Branna, 'cause I know tha' ya wouldn'! I wouldn' either!" He told her as he cocked another slightly sarcastic brow. "But I love ya too – ya and Sean, and more than either of ya can even begin ta comprehend, in fact! I would kill for ya; I would kill for our son! I would take a bullet for Sean without even tinkin' 'bout it, and tha same goes for ya too! And, quite frankly, I love not havin' to share ya wit anyone 'cause I love bein' the only one who can do this ta ya now . . .!"
Then, without breaking eye contact, he buried his mouth in-between her thighs as he firmly grasped them in his hands. It was a movement that almost immediately had Branna's head slamming back onto the pillows behind her as her hips almost bucked out of his hands and as she released a moan. Connor lapped her up with the broad flat of his tongue and she found herself letting out another moan, especially when he expertly found the tight little bundle of nerves at the apex and encircled it with the tip, his hands holding her hips in place as she squirmed against him. She was warm and pliant until he reached her center and found her core, so soft and heated from within by an inferno that it made him let out a wanton groan as he pulled her closer to him.
"Dammit Conn, why do ya have ta make it so hard ta have a serious conversation with ya sometimes?" She groaned out somewhat bitterly although entirely breathlessly, and she could hear Connor chuckle as sparks began to dance across her fingertips. She began riding his tongue when he entered her, and his eyes fixed heatedly on her face as he curled his tongue upwards, exploring the slick channel as he pressed his nose upwards to brush against that sensitive nub. Her hips thrust upwards, burying him in her tangy deliciousness and Connor groaned against her again as he yanked her towards him and began flicking the tip of his tongue against her nub. One hand left her hip and he slid two fingers deep inside that aching heat, crooking them in his search for . . . for . . .
Branna immediately cried out his name, a whimper that turned into a wail - a keening cry of aching, begging need. It let him know that he had indeed found what he was looking for. He suckled her nub into his mouth and gave it a gentle tug, causing her to almost immediately whimper out his name as her hand fisted tightly in his hair. He could feel the rippling of her inner walls as she clamped down on his fingers and flexed her hips to thrust against him. A plea of his name became strung out like a mantra in the quiet air of the room as the lazy afternoon sunlight bathed her in a warm yellow light – in light and life and flame - and then she finally came hard against his fingers and his tongue. He eagerly swallowed and lapped up her release, watching her as she sagged against the pillows and soft sheets. She started whimpering as he continued the onslaught, his fingers pumping hard as he drove her toward the precipice again. When he finally lifted his mouth from her, he breathed in deep and licked the taste of her from his lips.
He left her on the very edge of another climax before grinning cockily and moving to lean on his elbows above her. "Oh, I'm so rude - forgive me, mo shíorghrá! Now wha' were ya sayin', Miss. Whelan?" His eyes flashed and she gritted her teeth as her hands planted on his chest and flipped them over. Straddling his waist, she waited no time in impaling herself on him, her back arching as she began riding him. Her desire-filled eyes found his as he grasped her hips and rocked her roughly but still rhythmically against him.
"Don' ya dare call me Miss. Whelan! I am not jus' some floozy ya can fuck at ya every whim!" She growled through gritted teeth and even though she knew she was not just a woman to him – that she had never been just a woman to Connor MacManus, that still felt good to say. Connor replied with a grin as he flipped them over to where she was underneath him. Legs sliding up his to wrap around his lean waist, he withdrew and with one long, rough thrust, reentered her. She let out a moan as her eyes closed and their lips met in a passionate kiss as Connor set a slow and languid but hard rhythm that better suited the lazy, hot day that engulfed them in a sweltering heat.
"Then . . . wha' do I get ta call ya?" He breathed out when they finally broke apart. Branna, her breathing erratic from denying herself something she wanted so much, planted her hands on his chest and moved him upwards into a sitting position. Connor's hands moved down to grasp her thighs in order to better keep her upwards and them connected. They kissed again as they continued to rock against each other, Branna's arms moved to wrap loosely around his neck. She loved having a strong man.
"If ya insist on callin' me anythin' but Branna, then I suppose ya can call me . . ." She trailed off and thought for a minute. When she finally spoke, her eyes flashed as a grin split her features. "Mrs. MacManus when we're alone, Connor . . . and only if ya feelin' playful." She breathed when their lips finally found themselves disconnected, and by the hitch in his breath that was mimicked by thrusts for a moment, she could tell that he very much liked that idea. "For here, I am ya equal – ya one and only girl . . .!" She let out a gasp as he pulled her nightgown down, finally freeing her breasts to his roving eyes and her fingers tangled in his light brown hair as his lips latched onto a wine-colored nipple, where he played and suckled at it with his tongue and his teeth. "Oh God, yes – here, Connor, I am ya wife!"
His hips suddenly stopped moving against hers and Branna immediately let out an irritated moan of protest as she slapped a hand none-too-kindly against his shoulder. "Connor MacManus, wha' the Hell are ya -?"
"Marry me."
"Conn, wha' are ya -?" Branna asked in slight confusion and shock as she gave a shake of her head, and Connor nodded in reply as his eyes grew wide - almost like he was shocked that he hadn't thought of it before.
"I tink ya heard me right. Marry me, Branna Whelan - marry me today, in fact! We can go down ta tha courthouse right now if ya want ta and do dis! Pick up Sean early from school, take him wit us . . .!" She gave a bark of incredulous laughter then.
"Are ya bein' serious right now, Conn? Ya stop right in tha middle of some of tha best sex we've ever had together, jus' ta ask me if I'll marry ya?" She asked him and Connor gave a firm nod alongside a half grin and a laugh.
"I'm bein' as serious as a damn heart attack right now, Branna!" He shook his head then, his face becoming quite solemn. "I don' wan' ta call ya Mrs. MacManus unless ya really are Mrs. MacManus – even in jest! I wan' ta be here for ya – for ya and our son and tha best way for me ta do tha' is if I'm married ta ya! I'll be less inclined ta do anythin' ya consider stupid, if I'm committed to ya!" He pulled her down to him, where he kissed her – hard and deep and passionate. When they broke apart, he closed his eyes and nuzzled her for a moment. "Make me the happiest man on tha face of tha planet today, Branna, please!"
Branna gazed at him in speechlessness for another moment, not knowing what she wanted to say. She knew Connor wouldn't hold it against her if she said no but . . . then would they still have a relationship? Would he continue on with their relationship as if nothing had happened – as if anything hadn't been said? Or would he mope and turn melancholy? And truthfully, Branna didn't know, but she did know one thing.
She wanted to say yes. Why else would she have changed her name to MacManus when looking for a new apartment?
After a moment, she swallowed hard and bit down on her bottom lip before nodding. "Yeah . . . yeah, I'll marry ya, Connor." She told him and the grin that split across his face at her words, was damn near infectious. In fact, when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate, breath-taking kiss, she was caught unawares by how muddled with pleasure it made her thoughts. And when he pinned her underneath him and took her in a slow, deep way that made her thoughts scatter like scraps of paper on the breeze, she knew she had made the right decision.
Hell, for once, she knew it was a decision she wouldn't regret.