Thunderstorm

Disclaimer: I would positively love to add the twins to my harem, but I’ve been forbidden to do so. ^_^ They’re Troy Duffy’s. Not mine. *Sulks about the fact for a moment and storms off, tail fluffed.*

A/N: Whee! Just a bit of fun. What if Connor were afraid of thunder? This is set sometime when they’re still in the loft, although I’ve not yet decided when exactly. Also… I keep changing words around. Ye can be you, but not always, sometimes phonetically spelled, but sometimes not… And yes, I know they’re not boys. They act like it. I don’t care much for referring to them as men when they’re so damn cute. ^_^

Thunderstorm


They were sitting at the table when a clap of thunder startled them both. Murphy simply jumped and resumed eating, but Connor instantly began to shake, dropping his fork. His brother raised one eyebrow at him over the bottle he had to his lips, and shook his head. Murphy knocked back the beer and sighed, a taunting smile on his face.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Con. Y’mean to tell me that after all this time in Boston, yer still not used to an eensy bit of rain?” He grinned, gesturing to the size of the storm with his thumb and forefinger. Connor glared over the table.

“Very fuckin’ funny. Y’know it’s not the rain. It’s the-“ Connor’s eyes flew open wide and he gripped the table as another clap of thunder shook the loft. Murphy stifled a laugh, and slapped a hand down on his twin’s white knuckles.

“Aye. You’ve got me here. Don’tcha worry about a little, tiny storm when you got yer big brother here to protect ya.” Murph cracked up and hit the ground still laughing as Connor landed a hefty punch on his cheek. He flipped over and straddled his frightened brother, pinning his arms to his sides as he writhed beneath him, still laughing.

“Now you’re fuckin’ askin’ for it…” Connor’s eyes narrowed to slits as he fought to get free. Tossing his legs up and around Murphy, he flipped him over completely as Murph took a moment to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes and catch his breath. He yelped as he hit the floor on his side with Connor’s weight on top of him. Connor tugged at his hair, obviously annoyed.

“So you’re forgettin’ what Ma said, then?” Connor tightened his grip on Murphy’s brown hair and smiled, fear forgotten, as the other boy winced. It took a moment of stillness before realization dawned on Murph.

“Hey, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Yer the one who can’t take it all te’ way down his fuckin’ throat, remember?” He began to fight again as they wound up in a deadlock.

“Lemme the fuck go!”

“Fuckin’ go then!”

“Knock it the fuckin’ hell off!”

“Ow! What in the hell was that for?”

“Get the fuck offa me!”

“Quit hittin’ me like that! What would yer Ma say?”

Their squabbling was interrupted by the largest clap of thunder yet, and Connor froze like a frightened deer. Murphy took the opportunity to lay on his chest and grin down at him, their faces only inches apart. For a moment he considered rolling him over and beating him sound, but something in his brother’s eyes made him stop.

“Christ, ye really are still scared of it, aren’t you?” Murphy laid his head down instead and looked at him with soft eyes, combing a few pieces of Connor’s stray hair behind his ear with his finger. The tender moment passed quickly. Connor kicked his heels up into his brother’s chest, successfully knocking him as well as all of the air in his lungs across the room. Murphy made an ‘oomph’ sound as he landed.

“Stay. The. Fuck. Off. Me!” Connor got to his feet and stormed across the room, shoulders hunched as he made his way toward his bed. Murphy watched him warily, filling his poor bruised lungs with blessed oxygen in increments.

“Con, ye mad at me?” He called across the room, wincing as he rubbed his ribs.

“No! Fuck off!” Was the muffled reply from beneath the blanket. Murphy rolled his eyes. This happened every damn time it stormed.

“Well at least take yer clothes off if yer goin’ to hide under the covers. They’re all dirtylike.” He called out, for lack of anything better to say and lack of funds for the laundromat.

“Didn’t I just tell ye to fuck off? It’s my bed, I’ll get it dirty if I fuckin’ want!” Yelled the vaguely Connor-shaped lump of blankets. A moment passed with nothing but the rain beating on the roof. Murphy sighed and stood up, walking to the refrigerator to grab two beers, and suppressed a chuckle when he saw the dirt-stained shirt and jeans on the floor beside the bed. He opened the two bottles, and went to sit next to Con’s bed.

“Knock-Knock.” He lifted up a corner of the blanket to reveal his brother’s face, still looking a bit angry. Murphy passed the beer through the opening of what now resembled a blanket igloo and smiled, closing the cloth ‘door’. He leaned his back against the bed and smiled, hearing little slurps and clinks every so often. After a few minutes, an empty bottle appeared. Taking it from the hand which was quickly snatched back inside, Murphy stood and stretched.

“Aye, I’m goin’ to the store. We need smokes.” Shrugging on his jacket, he made his way to the door. With his hand of the doorknob, he heard a rustle of sheets behind him. Connor was now sitting with the blankets pooled around him.

“Don’t go.” Thunder crashed again and Connor winced. Murphy sighed.

“Why the fuck not? It’s a storm, Con. A fucking storm. That’s all.” He kicked off his shoes again and went to sit by his brother.

“I know. But I just don’t want to stay here without ‘ye.” Murphy bit his lip with outward annoyance at hearing this, but his heart melted.

“A’right, I’ll stay. But just until it’s over, then we’re goin’ to the store. Ye hear?” He took his coat off and tossed it on top of the piled clothes, pulling off his shirt and jeans as well. Connor dove back under the covers as a fearsome crash sounded, but held the opening up so that Murphy could get in. Slipping between the sheets, he felt their skin rub and a rush of heat shot through his heart and into his groin.

“Thanks. But yer still not older.” Connor snuggled into Murphy’s chest and tugged on one of his ears. Murphy smirked and caught his brother’s lips with his own, tasting them thoughtfully. Beer, smoke, desire. Always those three. For once Connor gave in without a fight, slipping one hand around his head and the other around his hips, pulling them closer. The kiss grew from an affectionate peck into a lusty tangle of tongues, each boy probing the familiar territory of the other with his own. Connor broke away to lick and nip the side of Murphy’s ear, aware of each sensation given as though he felt it upon his own flesh.

“Isn’t this the part where I usually complain ‘bout how wrong this is?” Mused Connor, running one soft finger in a line trailing up Murphy’s hardening cock, feeling him inhale sharply.

“Ye made up this whole fuckin’ storm to seduce me, ye damn minx.” He arched his back involuntarily, grinding their hips together as he licked and bit along the sensitive sides of his brother’s neck.

“’Ey now, you’ve got no fuckin’ reason to complain.” A soft groan was the only reply as Connor focused his attention to leading his tongue oh-so-slowly down his brother’s throat, stopping to pinch, lick, and bite at his nipples before continuing downward, teasing a slick, hot line down his stomach and stopping just short of the soft patch of hair beneath. Here he blew softly, not needing to see the look on Murphy’s face to know that he had his eyes half-closed and his lower lip between his teeth, just waiting for him to continue. Connor waited, motionless save for his warm breath and soft lips barely touching the head of Murphy’s cock, just kissing the swollen head oh-so-lightly and building the excitement before swallowing him in one swift gulp, plunging the entire length into his hot, wet mouth. The sudden rush of sensation left Murphy pulsing, tensing, aching for more but Connor simply sat up with a smile. Murphy gritted his teeth.

They looked at each other briefly, sharing a familiar moment that meant the world to them but that the world simply couldn’t understand; they were saints. Nobody else needed to get in the way. Nobody else needed to be endangered. Not that they needed anybody else… They’d always had each other. From the quick, clumsy fumblings in the bathroom when Ma left for the pub to the wrestling matches early on that had always left them confused and sweaty, excited in a manner they hadn’t quite understood at the time, it had always been the two of them. And now, in the muted light beneath the blankets, Murphy licked his lips and dove for his brother.

The teasing and erotic gentleness were through; with one swift motion Connor rolled him roughly to the side, digging his teeth into tattooed skin and slapping the soft flesh of his brother’s ass before spreading him open. He leaned down and moistened the opening with his tongue, smacking Murphy’s hip as he tried to wriggle away, moaning softly. He dragged his fingernails up the backs of his thighs, relishing the soft, pleading sounds as he pressed his own cock slowly, bit by torturous bit, into Murphy.

The pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure, and as he felt the entry slowly begin, Murphy wondered feverishly if it were possible anymore to have one without the other. He shot his hands back, pulling Connor’s hips against his own, gasping as the sensation of being filled rushed through him. But almost immediately, he felt the feeling pull back out. Murphy whimpered softly, then cried out into the pillow as Connor drove back into him, deeper and a bit faster with each new pump of his hips. There was no longer a distinct pattern of pain, pleasure, pain; but now only one rush of sensation as he felt his body threatening to betray him. He recognized the warning signs in the sudden tensing of his stomach, thighs, throbbing of his cock and tried to hold off, biting his lip. Then, with one final thrust, Connor grabbed his hips and forced him to be still. He could feel the quick, sharp pulses inside of him, and the knowledge that Connor was finally finishing, filling him with the sticky hot liquid he couldn’t ever seem to get enough of set him off at last. He lost himself to the white-hot rush, half-formed thoughts twisting through his head as he cried out.

At last, both spent, they collapsed beside each other, both grinning as though the biggest secret in the world had just been shared.

“We’re a fuckin’ mess now, y’know?” complained Murphy, twisting his brother’s hair around one finger.

“Aye, and who’s fault would that be?” Connor reached down and slipped a finger along Murphy’s stomach, bringing it to his mouth and licking the glistening bead of moisture off. Murphy laughed, kissing him on the forehead. He sat up and stretched. Connor rolled over, reaching on the floor for the jeans he’d dropped. He patted the pockets.

“Eh??? I’ve got no fuckin’ cigarettes! It’s a tragedy, Murph!” He truly did look panicked. Murphy doubled over laughing as he wiped himself off.

“Why in the hell did you think I wanted to go to the store, then? Ye comin’?” He stood and tugged his pants on, tossing Connor the towel. Connor gave him a dirty look.

“This is… My fuckin’ towel!” He wiped off his softening member and snapped the offending piece of cloth at Murphy. He yelped, and danced away, shirt half on and covering his head.

“It’s not stormin’ anymore. Come on.” As the two left for the corner store, their voices dwindled down the hall.

“Hey, didn’t ye say somethin’ about me not being able to take it down my throat?”

“Y’know I was only foolin’.”

“Aye, fool this!”

~end~