Boondock Saints: Biting Fingers (Connor/Murphy | NC-17)
Title: Biting Fingers
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Connor Macmanus/Murphy Macmanus
Betas: Saints-and-walkers and metaallu
Word Count: 987
Warnings/Notes: Twincest, pre-canon, short flashback of underage masturbation, the rest of the action and sex takes place when the twins are adults
Summary: Connor’s always had a thing for Murphy biting him.
It’s strange the little things that reminds one of the past. Because right now Connor isn’t thinking at all. He’s trying to breathe without blasphemy chasing every exhale. His knuckles are white as they grip the rumpled sheets beneath him. And if he was thinking?
It'd be Murph, brother, please. It’d be harder, faster, more. More.
Murph is kneeling between Connor’s bent knees, his finger slick and buried deep inside Connor. He’s been working Connor open for what seems hours, smiling down at Connor like some sort of combination devil and saint. Murph has his free hand splayed across Connor’s chest, over the one piece of skin that doesn’t mirror Murphy’s own; tattoo for tattoo.
Connor’s so close to the edge he tastes it, but he doesn’t want to be alone in it. It’s better to have his brother right there with him, instead of falling apart alone.
“Get a move on, Murph,” Connor grits out. It’s not begging and it’s not what Murphy wants. But Connor’s not in the mood to give Murphy that, not tonight.
Murphy chuckles, low and rough. He scissors his fingers inside Connor, his smile widening to a grin as Connor’s hips arch off the bed. “Such a slut ye’ are for it,” he teases. “Ye’ gonna beg me all nice an’ pretty, Conn?”
“Fuck ye’,” Connor shoots back on the tail end of a moan.
“Think the idea is for me ta do the fuckin’,” Murphy says, sounding every bit the brat he can be at times.
He pushes a fourth finger into Connor. It burns but Connor takes it, shoving down onto it.
Murphy groans softly, leaning over Connor. “Chri --”
Connor’s hand untangles from the sheets, his fingers putting a stop to his twin’s almost blasphemy. The Lord’s name has no place in bed with them two.
Murphy’s eyes go a little darker and he bites at Connor’s fingertips.
And suddenly all Connor can think about is the first time Murphy bit his fingers like that.
They’re twelve years old and they still share a bed. Either because Ma’ can’t afford two or knows there’s no point when her boys will wind up sharing anyways.
They’re wanking together, knees brushing, foreheads touching. When one exhales sharply, the other inhales greedily.
Murphy’s got his eyes clenched tight, while Connor keeps his eyes wide open.
Every sound they make seems to echo through the quiet house and Connor - Connor’s good at staying quiet, at muffling his sounds with his own hand if he needs to. But Murphy?
Murphy can’t stay hushed, can’t seem to hold back here with Connor.
It's worse when they’re both so close Connor feels ready to shake apart. He can barely think, let alone shush his twin when Murph starts to moan a bit too loud.
“Murph, ye’ gotta keep silent,” Connor hisses out. He wonders if this is why the guy in that dirty film he and Murphy saw kissed the bird he was doing - to keep her quiet.
Murphy opens eyes gone so dark there’s almost no blue left. “Jesu--”
Connor fingers fly to his brother’s mouth, pressing against wet lips to silence him.
Murphy’s eyes go wide and he bites at Connor’s fingers.
Connor comes all over his hand, Murphy only seconds behind him.
He’s pulled out of the memory by Murphy’s fingers sliding from him. Murphy eyes have gone almost completely black with lust and Connor wonders if his twin wasn’t just in the same memory.
They share their dreams and souls, after all.
Murphy bites at Connor’s fingers again, before joining their hands together. “Ye’ always liked me biting ya,” Murphy teases darkly as he settles between Connor’s thighs.
Their chests brush together, skin slick with sweat. “I like the other things ye’ do with yer mouth more,” Connor laughs and lifts his head up.
Murphy kisses him, his teeth scraping Connor’s mouth. It’s wet and messy, and perfect. Because no one knows him like Murphy.
When Murphy pushes inside of Connor, he’s right on the edge again and knows Murphy is right there with him, his cock a burning line of fire that makes Connor clutch at his twin and call out his name.
Connor’s cock drags across Murphy stomach as they move together. There’s desperation in every one of Murphy's thrusts and Connor matches it eagerly. His fingers will leave bruises on Murphy’s pale skin and in the morning Connor will taste every one. Their thrusts go uneven and neither of them can breathe for how good it is.
Murphy fists his hand in Connor’s hair, dragging his head back. “Fuckin’ love ye’,” Murphy growls before biting Connor’s throat.
“Murph!” Connor cries out, because that’s all it takes to shove him over the edge, to break him into a million pieces only his twin can fix.
He comes across their stomachs, tightening around Murphy.
Murphy’s cry is wordless and gets lost in Connor’s mouth; and Connor still shuddering with aftershocks feels every pulse of his brother’s pleasure like it’s his own.
Their heartbeats even out and fall back into the same rhythm. Connor pushes his fingers through Murphy’s dark, sweaty hair. He’ll shove his twin off soon, complaining that he’s too heavy. They’ll squabble over who has to get up and stumble across the darkened room to the bathroom. They’ll nudge and shove each other about who has to sleep in the wet spot.
A great many things have changed since they were boys, but some things - like Connor's love for Murphy - never will.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Connor Macmanus/Murphy Macmanus
Betas: Saints-and-walkers and metaallu
Word Count: 987
Warnings/Notes: Twincest, pre-canon, short flashback of underage masturbation, the rest of the action and sex takes place when the twins are adults
Summary: Connor’s always had a thing for Murphy biting him.
It’s strange the little things that reminds one of the past. Because right now Connor isn’t thinking at all. He’s trying to breathe without blasphemy chasing every exhale. His knuckles are white as they grip the rumpled sheets beneath him. And if he was thinking?
It'd be Murph, brother, please. It’d be harder, faster, more. More.
Murph is kneeling between Connor’s bent knees, his finger slick and buried deep inside Connor. He’s been working Connor open for what seems hours, smiling down at Connor like some sort of combination devil and saint. Murph has his free hand splayed across Connor’s chest, over the one piece of skin that doesn’t mirror Murphy’s own; tattoo for tattoo.
Connor’s so close to the edge he tastes it, but he doesn’t want to be alone in it. It’s better to have his brother right there with him, instead of falling apart alone.
“Get a move on, Murph,” Connor grits out. It’s not begging and it’s not what Murphy wants. But Connor’s not in the mood to give Murphy that, not tonight.
Murphy chuckles, low and rough. He scissors his fingers inside Connor, his smile widening to a grin as Connor’s hips arch off the bed. “Such a slut ye’ are for it,” he teases. “Ye’ gonna beg me all nice an’ pretty, Conn?”
“Fuck ye’,” Connor shoots back on the tail end of a moan.
“Think the idea is for me ta do the fuckin’,” Murphy says, sounding every bit the brat he can be at times.
He pushes a fourth finger into Connor. It burns but Connor takes it, shoving down onto it.
Murphy groans softly, leaning over Connor. “Chri --”
Connor’s hand untangles from the sheets, his fingers putting a stop to his twin’s almost blasphemy. The Lord’s name has no place in bed with them two.
Murphy’s eyes go a little darker and he bites at Connor’s fingertips.
And suddenly all Connor can think about is the first time Murphy bit his fingers like that.
They’re twelve years old and they still share a bed. Either because Ma’ can’t afford two or knows there’s no point when her boys will wind up sharing anyways.
They’re wanking together, knees brushing, foreheads touching. When one exhales sharply, the other inhales greedily.
Murphy’s got his eyes clenched tight, while Connor keeps his eyes wide open.
Every sound they make seems to echo through the quiet house and Connor - Connor’s good at staying quiet, at muffling his sounds with his own hand if he needs to. But Murphy?
Murphy can’t stay hushed, can’t seem to hold back here with Connor.
It's worse when they’re both so close Connor feels ready to shake apart. He can barely think, let alone shush his twin when Murph starts to moan a bit too loud.
“Murph, ye’ gotta keep silent,” Connor hisses out. He wonders if this is why the guy in that dirty film he and Murphy saw kissed the bird he was doing - to keep her quiet.
Murphy opens eyes gone so dark there’s almost no blue left. “Jesu--”
Connor fingers fly to his brother’s mouth, pressing against wet lips to silence him.
Murphy’s eyes go wide and he bites at Connor’s fingers.
Connor comes all over his hand, Murphy only seconds behind him.
He’s pulled out of the memory by Murphy’s fingers sliding from him. Murphy eyes have gone almost completely black with lust and Connor wonders if his twin wasn’t just in the same memory.
They share their dreams and souls, after all.
Murphy bites at Connor’s fingers again, before joining their hands together. “Ye’ always liked me biting ya,” Murphy teases darkly as he settles between Connor’s thighs.
Their chests brush together, skin slick with sweat. “I like the other things ye’ do with yer mouth more,” Connor laughs and lifts his head up.
Murphy kisses him, his teeth scraping Connor’s mouth. It’s wet and messy, and perfect. Because no one knows him like Murphy.
When Murphy pushes inside of Connor, he’s right on the edge again and knows Murphy is right there with him, his cock a burning line of fire that makes Connor clutch at his twin and call out his name.
Connor’s cock drags across Murphy stomach as they move together. There’s desperation in every one of Murphy's thrusts and Connor matches it eagerly. His fingers will leave bruises on Murphy’s pale skin and in the morning Connor will taste every one. Their thrusts go uneven and neither of them can breathe for how good it is.
Murphy fists his hand in Connor’s hair, dragging his head back. “Fuckin’ love ye’,” Murphy growls before biting Connor’s throat.
“Murph!” Connor cries out, because that’s all it takes to shove him over the edge, to break him into a million pieces only his twin can fix.
He comes across their stomachs, tightening around Murphy.
Murphy’s cry is wordless and gets lost in Connor’s mouth; and Connor still shuddering with aftershocks feels every pulse of his brother’s pleasure like it’s his own.
Their heartbeats even out and fall back into the same rhythm. Connor pushes his fingers through Murphy’s dark, sweaty hair. He’ll shove his twin off soon, complaining that he’s too heavy. They’ll squabble over who has to get up and stumble across the darkened room to the bathroom. They’ll nudge and shove each other about who has to sleep in the wet spot.
A great many things have changed since they were boys, but some things - like Connor's love for Murphy - never will.