Tongue

Authors: kady and Aja
Rating: NC17. (Dude!)
Pairing: Connor/Murphy
Summary: Murphy gets licked, Connor gets licked. So, licking. And porn. Basically.
Note: Gratuitous nipple mention. This is what happens when we round robin a fic. PWP! Wheee!
Warning: Twincest. (wOOt!)
Disclaimer: Oh yeah. This happened. In my mind. It's fiction, there's not an ounce of truth in it as far as I know, and the McManus brothers belong to Troy Duffy. Lucky bastard.

Tongue


Connor

Connor picks the place carefully, a patch just below the ear where flesh is pulled tight over muscle. Murphy pushes his head back into Connor's hands like a cat craving to be stroked; the movement makes that skin and muscle shift beneath Connor's almost timid licks, it pulls taut and loosens again.

It's soft, the tip of his tongue. Moves smoothly like a damp, soapy finger, back and forth, back and forth; slow patterns on skin prickled with goosebumps. It has Murphy's fingers tightening, curling into fists to try and force Connor to lick harder.

Connor makes a soft sound that might be annoyance, or maybe impatience, and resists shoving hands to concentrate on the babysoft curve of Murphy's earlobe. He licks the very edge, traces the contour all the way to the tip of the ear, touches his tongue to the harder ridges inside just to make Murphy shiver. To get a rise, to hear a rising moan.

"Fuckin' tease," Murphy growls, trembling in Connor's grip.

"Relax," Connor whispers, breathes out warm, damp air in Murphy's ear. "We'll get there." He knows Murphy wants it now, but it's not like either of them have anywhere to be. So slowly, methodically, his tongue strokes down, following the line of Murphy's jaw to his chin, tup aup again, parallel.

"Christ," Murphy hisses, as the tendrils of Connor’s breath tickle his skin. "What exactly are you doing?" Not that I mind, of course, his body clarifies. God, no I don’t mind.

"Just…" Connor hesitates, gliding his tongue down the curve of his brother’s neck, feeling the cords of muscle contracting and releasing as Murphy writhes against him. He plants the soft breath of a kiss on the nape of his neck, sucking softly at the tangled hair there, then exhaling to elicit a satisfying shiver. "Just exploring."

Murphy reaches back suddenly, sliding a strong arm around Connor’s head, practically purring with anticipation. "Exploring, huh?" His speech is punctuated by a moan, low and languorous. "I’ve got something you can explore, Mr. Columbus."

Connor flicks his tongue at the now pinkish bit of skin, rolling his eyes. "Honestly," he whispers. "We've got all the time in the world, why d'you insist on tryin' to rush me?"

"Because there are certain things you do so well." Murphy sighs as Connor dips back around, dragging the flat of his tongue around Murphy's throat and then lifting his head so they are eye to eye.

"Is that so?"

"Aye." Murphy yelps when Connor shoves him backward, lands on the mattress with a quiet 'uff!' But his surprise is short-lived, the smirk returns when Connor drops onto him, over him. "Ah, now. See, this is more like it."

"Don't get too fuckin' excited. Got a long way to go."

"Mr. Ego, eh?" Murphy laughs, the laugh turning to a breathy moan as Connor leans in, tongues his lips apart.

Not that it requires any large amount of effort, of course. Murphy’s mouth goes slack for a moment as Connor’s tongue swipes carefully over his lips, first top, then bottom. Finally he regains control and kisses back, sliding his own tongue hard and fast into his brother’s mouth. There are some things he can do well, too.

For a few moments, Connor lets his brother fuck his mouth with quick, violent thrusts of his tongue, then without warning, he bites down hard.

Murphy cries out loudly, recoiling, but Connor quiets him with a soft kiss. "Let’s just remember who’s in charge here, huh?"

Murphy’s eyes open wide for a second, then his mouth twists into a wide, daring grin. His voice drips with desire as he lays back, fingers loosening. "Aye, Sir." Murphy knows exactly how Connor will respond to that, and isn't disappointed. He whimpers at the lazy pressure of Connor's hips easing back to fit against him, tries to lift his own and force greater contact, harder. But Connor's having none of it.

"Down, boy," he says, grinning against Murphy's lips. And then he's descending again, closing his mouth over Murphy's chin, the smattering of stubble there chafing his lips as he moves his tongue over, around. Murphy's hands lift, try to bury themselves in Connor's hair again, but Connor catches his wrists and pins them back down, his mouth never leaving Murphy's chin.

Murphy gasps for breath, now barely struggling against his brother’s iron grip. Only his voice maintains even a hint of defiance. "Who’re you calling ‘boy’?" he manages to choke out as Connor’s lips slide lower, suckling at the delicate patch of skin beneath his chin. The whimper gives him away.

"You," Connor practically growls against his throat, for the first time letting teeth find purchase, grazing them hard over Murphy’s adam’s apple. His brother swallows hard, a guttural sound seeping from his open mouth. At the base of Murphy’s throat, Connor slides his tongue again, slipping into every tiny crevice of his skin. "You’re impatient, like a child. You never learn to..." a soft kiss at the center of his chest. "Wait," another, a few inches lower. "For," perfectly between his nipples. "Anything."

"Oh, wait. I can wait alright." Murphy draws his left foot back over the sheetwardwards him, wraps his bent leg over Connor's waist. "Just not too long."

"You never heard that patience is a virtue, did y'Murphy?" Connor grins and licks a maddening line between Murphy's nipples, right to left and left to right. He breathes on them, watches them stiffen further before finally flicking his tongue over each. The lurch Murphy gives at the first swipe almost makes Connor lose his grip on his brother's wrists. But he hangs on, licks again and again until finally settling his tongue over the left nipple, the tip moving in circles, spiralling inward until it touches just the very point. Beneath him, Murphy squirms, growling about Connor being a big fuckin' tease.

"Oh, God," Murphy cries out as Connor’s mouth closes over an almost painfully hard nipple. "What the fuck d’you know about virtues, brother?"

A small, playful giggle leaps from Connor’s mouth. "I know it, Murph." He continues downward, dragging a slick, rough tongue over his brother’s stomach. He stops over Murphy’s navel, circling it softly, his mouth poised just an inch from warm, quivering skin. "It should be a sin," he whispers, delving his tongue deep, sinuously thrusting into the tiny hole as hot, sweet breath tickles the tiny hairs.

"Fuck me!" Murphy practically screams, andt bet begins as an exclamation rapidly turns into a whined, breathy request. A demand. "Please."

Finally letting go of Murphy's hands, Connor tuts and pushes loose the button at the top of Murphy's fly. "Mm. Soon, alright?"

Murphy whines again, winds his fingers through dirty blond, twisting and tugging while Connor's tongue flattens the fine trail of hair to Murphy's skin. Connor follows the hair down until his teeth hit denim, his fingers work furiously to unfasten, to pull down and all Murphy can do is writhe and beg.

Connor knows that he needs something more, and soon. Never mind Murphy.

Still nibbling at the sensitive pale skin above the line of his brother's pants, Connor tears his mouth away for only a second to remove Murphy’s jeans and shorts, yanking them off almost painfully.

Then he is back on top of Murphy, urgency and desire and need throbbing now, pulsing like blood through his body. Hands grope and clutch over Murphy’s chest as Connor alternates soft kisses and nibbles over his brother’s thighs. Fingernails dig in and slide as slick skin rubs together, friction contributing to an almost impossible amount of heat.

"Oh God, now. Please, do it now." Murphy’s last words are a soft whimper, his lips going still while his hands plead his case, scrabbling over every inch of Connor they can reach.

Fuck, Connor thinks. He needs to hold it together just a little longer. He sits back on his knees, dragging Murphy towards him, pulling with his hands clutching God, gorgeous hips. He pulls Murphy up against him until he can just dip his head and mm, there inhale Murphy's rich scent. Connor runs his tongue along the back of his teeth before opening his mouth again, licking the underside of Murphy's cock from base to tip, over, around, back down again. He laps carelessly at the silken skin below, his tongue straying until he tastes coarse hair.

Murphy's fingers are pressing into his skull, Murphy's moans filling his ears, Murphy's trembles shudder through both of them. "Murphy, Murphy..." Connor whispers, mouth hovering over the head of his brother's cock. He's hungry, ready just to make his brother lose it right now, knows that he can. Murphy's almost there already.

Murphy

And it’s true, Murphy can feel himself falling, slipping into that heady place where there is nothing but blood and sweat and skin. Nothing but Connor.

But no. He has a point to prove. His mind races frantically, reaching for something to stop the rushing, pounding blood, to at the very least slow him down. And he finds it. That fuckin’ lesbian.

His wide smile is almost painful as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. We’ll see who’s impatient, his mind whispers, and just as Connor's tongue slides over the tip of his cock, he plants a bare foot in the middle of his chest and sends him reeling backwards.

"You're not the only one who knows how to use his tongue, boy." Murphy's voice is dripping.

Connor glares at first, but the glare soon turns to a look of well, what the fuck. "Come on then, little brother. Do your fuckin' worst."

Murphy grins, lunging forward to flip Connor over, onto his stomach. "Oh, no. Not at all, brother." Murphy sits astride the backs of Connor's knees, preventing him from moving, and bends down, breathing out across the middle ofnor\nor's back. "I intend to do my best."

"Know what else is a virtue?" Murphy whispers, running a hesitant finger over the tiny bumps of Connor’s spine. "Perseverance." Then the finger hooks on the waist of Connor’s jeans. "Now I may not know everything there is to know about this patience thing," Murphy begins, leaning down to press a soft kiss on the small of his brother’s back. "But I’m willing to try. To learn." Beneath him, Connor sighs.

"Like, what about this?" Murphy asks softly, catching a bite of Connor’s back pocket and a tiny bit of skin between his teeth. He feels Connor hiss and wriggle beneath him, and moves up again.

Running a soft tongue from the very bottom of Connor's back, along his spine and up to the nape of his neck, Murphy gets revenge on his brother. "Or how ‘bout that?" he whispers, close to Connor’s ear, before catching the lobe in his mouth and sucking on it playfully. "Am I getting any warmer?" His only reply is a whimpered little moan. "Guess that means yes, then." Lapping warmth along the side of Connor's neck, Murphy reaches both arms around, pushing his hands beneath Connor's belly and down. After a moment's confusion, Connor pushes himself up enough that his fly can be reached. Murphy unfastens, pulls, his tongue slipping past Connor's shoulder to lick blindly at freckled skin.

Murphy pulls until Connor's jeans and shorts are off, shoves them away and ducks back down to lick, kitten-like, at the back of Connor's ankle. "Well, at least your feet don't stink today," he says quietly before kissing and then circling a nub of bone with the tip of his tongue.

Connor is preparing a snide remark when Murphy’s lips suddenly close on the back of his heel. "Know what’ll be your downfall, brother?" Murphy teases, running his tongue down the center of Connor’s foot ever-so-slowly. "Your Achilles’ heel, if you will?" Then his teeth are back, nibbling lightly on that tendon at the back of his brother’s foot.

"Christ, that was bad, Murph," Connor practically groans, but he must begrudgingly admit that Murphy may just be catching on. "Please," he continues, voice not completely losing its edge, "enlighten me."

Connor begins to moan then, as Murphy’s tongue snakes between each of his toes. "You underestimate your brother." Above him, Connor twists and turns onto his back, making it easier for Murphy to open his mouth, suck in a little toe. In response, Connor's other foot kicks out beside Murphy's head, narrowly missing his ear. Brow furrowed, Murphy catches Connor's ankle and pushes until it's flat against the sheets again, toes curling down to try and grip, ground. "Now, brother," Murphy chides, releasing a now quite damp toe, "Can't you control yourself?"

"Fuck you. Call me a tease, would ya?"

Laughing, Murphy hoists himself back up, stopping to lavish attention on Connor's right knee. His lips part, mouth open wide over the kneecap, tongue laving wild patterns on the captured skin. Connor gasps, groans, struggles a little to breathe as Murphy's hand creeps up, fingers catching and tugging at the hairs covering his thighs.

"Alright!" Connor practically screams as Murphy’s mouth violates his kneecap. He takes a deepath.ath. "Alright. I got it. Point taken. Just-" He loses his voice again as his brother’s tongue slides over the inside of his thigh. "Oh, God. You’re good. I get it." With one hand he reaches down to tangle in Murphy’s messy hair. The other digs into the bed sheets, clutching a mass of damp fabric. "Who’s…" he moans again. "Who’s going to finish this?"

"Well," Murphy says, exhaling hard just to feel Connor squirm. "You started it. So you get to finish it." One last languid lick follows Connor's hipbone and Murphy crawls up, letting Connor's hands in his hair guide him, yank him down so that their mouths collide. It's a hot, desperate kiss, asking and answering in the same breath. Murphy is turned again, Connor's weight lifting for a few seconds as the lube's located, opened, smeared over fingers already pulsing with heat.

"Jesus..." Connor whispers, kneeling over his brother. Murphy knows what he's about to say, stops the words with another kiss. He grips Connor's cock suddenly, firmly, and relishes the hiss, echoes it.

"Just fuck me. Save the fuckin' compliments." Then Murphy smiles, like he's had the mother of all ideas, and he slowly starts to move.

"Christ, Murphy," Connor whispers as his brother rolls over, watches in awe as Murphy draws up onto hands and knees, stretching himself out like a cat. Fingernails dig into the headboard as that delicious pale ass slides back towards Connor. "God, you’re a slut. You know that?" Murphy chuckles breathily in reply, rubs himself back against Connor’s kneeling form. "Alright," Connor says. "That's it, you asked for it."

Connor grasps his brother’s hips firmly, closing over familiar bruises, at the same time leaning down to caress an untiring tongue over the very top of his brother’s ass. Without warning, he bites down, grins at the puppyish yelp Murphy gives, and then at the moan as he soothes the bite with a soft, wet kiss. Then the flat of his tongue is moving upward, tracing the curve of Murphy's spine upward. While he licks, he moves the wet fingers of his right hand inward, strokes one digit down, up, down the cleft of Murphy's ass before sinking it slowly in. Murphy hisses sharply, but opens to the intrusion, breaths that are heavy at first slowly evening out. "More," Murphy demands, the tickle of Connor's tongue between his shoulderblades driving him almost as crazy as the finger working its way deeper into his body.

"More?" Connor breathes, scatters kisses across his brother's back, easing the first finger out only to add another and slide them both in. He follows the natural curve until the tip of his index finger finds the small gland, brushes over it. Murphy sucks in a breath, exhales a ragged moan as Connor continues to stroke, to twist his fingers until Murphy's arms are trembling with the effort of holding himself steady.

"Connor," Murphy whines. "I'm ready. Fuck, just..."

Connor eases in smoothly, quickly, and Murphy’s words melt into a surprised moan that is cut short when his arms give out and he finds himself face first in cool sheets. Connor’s hands are still firm at his waist as he rocks in and out, angling each stroke to slide maddeningly over that tiny spot.

Murphy begins to shake, body racked by desire and shivering sobs. "Oh God," he moans, fighting to push himself up, away from the bed, trying to force himself back further on that wonderful heat. His skin prickles with warmth, with the faint sting of sweat and he slips against Connor in the most frustrating way. He sinks down, his knees edging further across the sheets, away from him, opening him up to Connor's fierce thrusts.

When Connor's fist closes around his cock, Murphy knows it won't be long. Won't be long at all. A hyper-awareness settles in all too abruptly, Murphy can hear every sharp intake of breath, and every damp sound of skin slamming against skin is amplified, hell, he can taste the energy surging between them. Murphy's so focused on impaling himself on Connor that it's not until he tastes copper as well that he realises he's bitten his bottom lip hard enough to make it bleed. But now he feels it, the sticky warmth in his mouth, and tries to hold out. Tries to focus on the bitter tang ofod, od, on anything but the sweet pain radiating through his body, anything but Connor reaming the sense out of him. Connor’s hand is nimble, adept at working Murphy, and it takes all of his willpower not to let go. But patience is a virtue, so Murphy waits.

He concentrates on the sounds again, the sharp tang in the air, the brutal touch of Connor's fingers at his hips. And then he can't wait any longer, because Connor's suddenly stopped moving completely, gasping arou moa moan as something shatters inside them both. Murphy throws his head back, a guttural growl firing from the depths of his throat as he comes over Connor's stilled hand. It's just them now. The rest of the world no longer exists in its true form. It becomes something two-dimensional, colours bleeding into one another as Murphy's vision blurs. He catches a sliver of breath and moans again, the sensation of Connor filling him, God, too much.

It's over in moments, everything that was frozen melts, Murphy blinks and can see again. Connor pulls out, away, collapses onto Murphy's back and whispers what they're both thinking; "Jesus."


~end