Dead End

Rating: NC17, I guesr />r />Pairing: Connor/Murphy
Summary: Connor and Murphy find themselves at a dead end.
Warning: Twincest. Pretty much a PWP, written for Alyssa.
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.



Dead End

"Jesus Christ, Murphy!" Connor can certainly yell when he wants to. Even running, fast as he can go, out of breath and aching to stop, he can yell. "Why the fuck d'you always have to open your big mouth?"

Murphy keeps his head down, charging along the poorly lit street, conserving energy and breath by resolutely not answering Connor.

"Coulda fuckin' got outta that one, but noo... Y'had to fuckin' say somethin'!"

God, would y'just shut up, Connor? How was I to know there were thirty more of the bastards inside?

"Shut up, Murphy, this way! "

Like I don't fuckin' know where I'm going, God Almighty give me strength.

And then Connor's hand smacks against the wall, and Murphy can almost feel the jar of it in the sound. Connor spins, coming to a painfully twisted halt as Murphy tries to slow down, fails, and winds up crashing into Connor, sending them both to the ground.

Connor snarls beneath him, "Get off, you fuckin' great lump!"

Murphy is breathing hard, and really didn't want to try to talk, but he just can't let an insult like that slide. "Least I'm..." He catches his breath again, swallows down air like he's dying. "Least I'm not a clumsy shite like you."

Connor shoves his hands down between them, trying to smack Murphy's stomach or push him off, Murphy isn't sure. Seems like it's too much of a struggle to do either because he gives up, just fumes silently under an unmoving Murphy.

"Hear that?" Murphy says.

Connor rolls his eyes. "What?"

"Nothin'."

"Get. Off. Me."

"No, I mean... Nothin'. I think we lost 'em there, bro." Murphy grins at the realization dawning across Connor's face. Still he doesn't move. "Good job, since this is a fuckin' dead end. Keep up, this way, right Conn?"

"Oh, fuck you."

"Aye, and y'could." Murphy shifts, brow raising, shit-eating grin widening further still. He leans closer, breath hot and tickling Connor's ear. "Excited?"

"I took half the skin off my hand, Murph. Excited doesn't even begin to cover i Con Connor replies, scowling and hissing as he pulls the offending hand free.

Murphy catches Connor's wrist, pulls his hand up a little and examines the palm. "Just a scrape. Want it to feel better?"

"Aye, and what are you goin' to do, Nurse Murphy?"

"Nothin' if you're gonna take that attitude."

"Christ, y'sound like Ma." Connor tries to yank his hand back, but Murphy just takes hold of his other wrist and pins both to the ground, over his head. "Murphy..." Connor's tone is warning, though his eyes are starting to soften.

"Ssh. Just a kiss."

"Here?"

"Nobody can see us." Murphy lets go of Connor's wrists, strokes down tanned arms, curls his fingers over Connor's shoulders. "Promise."

"Just a kiss."

"Aye," Murphy replies, watching Connor's eyes close and then blur out of focus as their mouths meet. Connor is passive beneath him, content to let Murphy do all the work. His lips part and he groans as Murphy's tongue slides into his mouth, runs along his teeth and his upper lip.

Murphy sucks gently, aware of the soft, wet sounds breaking the silence. He's always thought it's a pretty dumb sound, makes him want to giggle or something, but he's a for for fuck's sake and if he giggled, he'd never hear the end of it. So he suppresses the urge and tries not to listen, tries to kiss like a man, with teeth scraping Connor's gums, tongue forcing its way deeper until the saliva he tastes is cool and faintly bitter.

And then Connor moves beneath him, tangles one hand into Murphy's hair, slides the other beneath a too-thin T-shirt - fuck, when did it get so cold and so dark anyway? - and Murphy knows, knows that this is going beyond a kiss.

"Murphy," Connor whispers, and he's more breathless now than he was running from those guys. It makes Murphy feel just a little bit smug, that he's got that sort of power over his brother. He laps at the edge of Connor's mouth, making the quiet, contented sounds that he knows will drive Connor insane.

"Please," Connor whimpers, pulling at Murphy's hair, trying to move his head, to align their mouths again, but Murphy resists, instead licking from lip to chin, chin to throat. Connor's hands still, relaxing as Murphy's tongue travels a prominent vein, licks wetly across his adam's apple and then down, darting into the hollow just below it.

"OhGodyesthere..." Connor whines when Murphy stops licking to ease back, like a cat, grace tightly bound in slender limbs and a hungry mouth. Murphy bites on his way down, and his teeth are vicious beauty on Connor's body, even through that stupid shirt, and they both have sam same thought; they should be somewhere else, naked.t tht this is it for now, and it's good, and Murphy bites just a little harder, somewhere east of Connor's right hip, and fuck that moan just has Murphy's cock twitching.

"Murphy... Murphy... Murph..." Connor's voice is urgent, drawing Murphy back to his mouth just to silence him while fingers work between them to unfasten Connor's belt, his fly, and then his jaw comes undone, too, when Murphy's rough hand curls around him. Inside Connor's open mouth, Murphy's tongue still moves, slick against teeth and faintly wet lips. Connor writhes, moaning into the air, into Murphy's throat, and his foot skids on the gritty concrete as he tries to get leverage to lift his hips. Chewing at the corner of Connor's lower lip, Murphy murmurs at him to 'ssh' while his fingers stretch, curl, tug, slide. He plays Connor like a fucking harp, lifting these gorgeous sounds of need and yes and don't stop and

Murphy slips away from Connor's mouth again, wanting to taste the pulse that he can feel so violently beating beneath his fingertips. Connor's back is deeply bowed, his head falls back as Murphy's mouth touches warmth against his exposed stomach. Smiling, Murphy takes his hand away, finds Connor's hips and holds them firmly while he dips down, parts his lips and swallows Connor's cock. He pushes down harder still when Connor bucks, cries out, curses Murphy to fucking hell for having the mouth of the devil while at the same time twisting fingers painfully into his hair to hold him right there.

Murphy closes his eyes, feels them watering as he hollows his cheeks and sucks, resisting Connor's hand so that he can pull back a bit and catch a breath. He exhales noisily, drags his tongue around the head with a groan that's drowned out by Connor's own needy whining, ohGodohGodohohOhh...

Connor's thighs tighten, hips locking beneath Murphy's hands, and he's just drawn out completely, for a second, before something snaps and Connor's gruntsighing, coming down Murphy's throat. There's a moment then where nothing moves, they become like some erotic sculpture; all light and the promise of flesh and

then it's gone, burnt away as Murphy swallows and Connor makes some sound between a purr and a grumble because it's over and oh, fuck, felt so damned good.

Murphy kisses Connor's stomach lazily, pushing the ratty t-shirt higher, sighing at the ache in his belly as Connor relaxes beneath him, sated. "Conn," he whispers, slowly re-fastening zippers and buttons and a shining buckle. "Gotta... fuck." He digs his hands into Connor's pockets, ignoring the half-hearted protests and rooting around to come out with a couple of bills. "Cab fare," he explains, kissing or aor again, messy and hot. "C'mon, get up."

Connor groans, wanting to stay right where he is, bathing in his own private afterglow. Murphy pulls at his shoulders, pulls him up, bites down on his collarbone to get his attention. Connor yelps, smacks him hard. "What?"

"'m not fuckin' you here. C'mon. Let's go home."

At that, Connor is smiling, getting up despite the heaviness in his limbs. "Aye, alright."