Archive of Our Own

 We might kiss when we are alone.
When nobody's watching.
We might take it home...

We might make out when nobody's there.
It's not that we're scared.
It's just that it's delicate...

Murphy stood in the arch doorway of the entrance into a small lounge area, leaning against the off-white colour paint of the frame, which was aligned between his shoulder blades and was pressing somewhat into a bruise he'd acquired on his back that night from being tackled to the floor by one of their execution target's henchman.

He had his arms folded across his chest, the hand in which he held his slowly burning cigarette was cradling his bruised elbow –bruised from elbowing said henchman in the face- and he was staring down at the old carpeted floor of the cheap apartment they temporarily called 'home' in lower New York.

Connor was sitting on one of the two sofas in the lounge, injured again. His elbows were on his knees as he held a cigarette in one hand and in his other, a wash cloth to his bleeding but luckily not broken nose…that was the least of his injuries.

He too was staring at the floor, a frown on his pale face.

Murphy clenched his jaw in anger…Connor was not supposed to look that pale.

But recently it seemed he looked that way more often than not, and all because of him.

Murphy leaned his head back against the arch frame as he thought about it, closing his eyes and swallowing his anger.

That night had not been the second execution they'd done since Noah had joined them, and not the third or fourth either, there'd been so many to date Murphy had lost count, but this, the injuries and the miserable aftermath, it was just the way things usually went these days.

Murphy blamed Noah, and he didn't see how it could be anyone else's fault.

Noah was the one who told them about targets, because since they'd lost Rocco neither of them had the connections or information Rocco had once had, but the old man did, he was the one who knew who to kill, where and when. Smecker helped when he could, informing them about the criminals that were at large but weren't being investigated by police as a priority, but it wasn't often that he called, so Noah was who they had to depend on, much to the irritation and distrust of Murphy.

And rightfully so, since the problem was that Noah's information was always vague and based on old gangster information their father had once known. That caused a few problems, like the fact that they never knew how many people to expect to have to kill when they entered a room or an area, not even a rounded or estimated number, usually just a guess based on whatever the old man had known in the past. They also never knew how dangerous the person they were going after was, unlike with Rocco, who had told them details about a target, because he'd known so much.

And so now, every time they walked into an execution, Murphy felt like they were at a disadvantage somehow.

Murphy didn't want to be a brat about it, or a pussy, he'd told himself in the beginning, before they'd gone from one far too risky execution to number 14, 20, 32…that he and Connor had been spoiled and Roc had been handing them targets on a silver platter.

He'd tried to tell himself that this was risky business and that a little bloodshed -Connor's numerous skin splits and swollen black eyes from being punched or hit somehow and one time pistol whipped, Connor's bleeding ear from unsuppressed gunfire going off too close to his head, his various bone fractures over time, the fact that he'd, by God's grace alone, managed to avoid being shot in the face that one time because Murphy had shot the man just in time-…

…Murphy had tried to tell himself that it was just a part of the life they'd chosen, that maybe that was how it would really be for them in future, maybe that was how it was meant to be for them as executioners for God.

But now, after the fucking disaster that night turned out to be and for at least their last ten jobs that had gone similarly, Murphy had changed his opinion.

His eyes were wide open.

Murphy looked sidelong at Connor as he raised his cigarette with a shaking hand to his lips and as he inhaled smoke into his lungs, he trailed his eyes over the bandages wrapped around Connor's left shoulder and upper arm as his twin sat stiffly, shirtless and bleeding and tired and pale. Blood was seeping through the white gauze little by little, and a little more when Connor brought his own cigarette to his lips, he had closed his eyes and he grimaced when he sniffed and moved the wash rag from his nose, before taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

Murphy watched him with narrowed eyes, his emotions raging inside him, everything from anger to love to frustration to sadness.

Connor had been shot that night.

For the second time since they'd started doing God's work almost a year ago, Connor had been shot.

Murphy swallowed thickly as he exhaled smoke through his nose and turned his eyes back to the floor, fighting back the burn of tears as he remembered the pain of shock and fear that had slammed into his chest and reverberated through his body when he'd seen –and felt- his twin get shot. Murphy scratched at his chin irritably and licked his lips, there was a pit of burning stress in his stomach as he kept replaying in his mind how Connor had jerked back and to the side when his shoulder got hit and Murphy had forgotten to breathe for a few long seconds as he'd watched it happen.

It had hurt in the moment and it hurt now.

So did his skin and his bones and his face.

Connor's pain, resonating in its lesser state through Murphy. Such was their connection.

Noah was in the room too, Murphy was trying to ignore his presence. The old man had just seen his shady former doctor connection out of the apartment after paying him for removing the bullet, cleaning, stitching and bandaging Connor's wound. And now the white bearded bastard was just standing there, between the TV and the exit door, and as it often happened, he was the least injured of the three of them.

Because he always entered a room behind and between the twins and so he was never the first one attacked.

As if he were important…as if his life were more important than Connor's to Murphy and vice versa.

He wasn't important, to Murphy at least, he honestly didn't even want Noah around, fuck, he never had, not since the asshole had showed up in Yakavetta's basement.

There was a recklessness, a criminal presence about Noah that Murphy despised, unsurprisingly since the man had been a mafia hit man. The feeling had been there for Murphy from the very first time they'd seen Noah, when the man had started a fucking shoot out on a suburban street in broad fucking daylight when he'd come to assassinate them as a favor exchange to a mafia Don.

Jesus fucking Christ. If not for Connor, Murphy would have nothing to do with Noah, ever.

But Connor…Connor had wanted to give Noah a chance and Murphy had trusted his brother's judgment at the time, but surely Connor saw it now, for what it truly was.

Noah was not careful, he was not strategic, he was not safe, he was not a 'saint'.

Murphy shifted his right leg, grimacing at the slight pain from where he'd been cut with a fucking knife on the back of his thigh by some guy who'd been on the ground and had tried to stab him in the leg. He would need to clean and bandage it later.

Later.

When he and Connor were hopefully alone.

Murphy took a short drag on his cigarette as he mentally prayed this would be one of the nights Noah decided to leave for the evening, to return in the early hours or maybe only the following night.

Murphy refrained from sighing into the tension filled silence, he felt like he spent too much of his time hoping the man would just disappear, leave him and Connor alone so they could find their own way. They'd been fine before he came back into the lives, they'd been fine before Rocco even.

This wasn't how New York was supposed to be, how he'd pictured it.

They'd been in NY now for almost eight months, it was a massive city, big and busy enough to get lost in, big enough to hide from police as they went from target to target for a good long while. And the targets were the same kind of men as in Boston, maybe they were a little better organized, armed and skilled. Sure, maybe they were more dangerous in some ways, worked in larger groups, were more serious criminals…

…but when you walked into a room of seven men, only seven men, that Connor and Murphy could have laid out easily in the past, even just with one of Connor's crazy, stupid, awesome plans…and instead you managed to get beaten, shot and nearly stabbed and there is chaos, then you can't blame it on the dangerous New York gangsters.

Then you are doing something wrong.

Actually, someone is doing something wrong…

And as far as Murphy could see, as far as he'd been seeing for a while now, the problem was Noah.

But did Connor see it? Murphy guessed he did, Connor wasn't stupid…but when it came to their father he was too accepting, too forgiving of the man's mistakes and flaws. That wasn't okay, not when it was endangering their lives, Connor's life.

Murphy finished his cigarette on his next drag and he cast a glance backward to Noah where the man stood at the door and Noah looked at him too. Murphy hardly spoke a word to him if he could help it but there was something to be said about him being their father, of him being able to read Murphy's expression, because when their gazes met, they both held the stare and Noah tilted his head back slightly, turning his chin up a bit as Murphy gave him a look that said 'leave'.

And Noah seemed to understand it, because he looked displeased as he glanced to his side at the door.

Murphy had never done that before, met Noah's eyes and exchanged any kind of meaningful look with him. There was always some feeling of 'he's my father' respect that had been ingrained in Murphy as a child and so his instincts usually warred between kicking the shit out of the man and just staying out of it altogether, keeping his head down, holding his tongue, while Connor did the son-like thing and conversed and played nice.

But right then Murphy posed the challenge, the unspoken instruction, to Noah with only his eyes, while Connor sat in pain, distracted and battling his own feelings about respect and right and wrong and danger and 'obey your father'.

Noah held Murphy's gaze for a few seconds after that and anxiety crawled up Murphy's spine as he clenched his jaw a few times, preparing himself for words, for some sort of censure, for a fight that would end with Noah getting injured since Connor was in no condition to restrain Murphy currently.

But to Murphy's relief, suspicion and shock, Noah inclined his head and looked away, first to the floor and then to Connor. He'd conceded? Murphy wasn't sure but he saw the old man's hands clench into fists and so Murphy watched him carefully, warily, expecting that Noah was quietly upset.

"Will yeh' be alright, son?" Noah asked in Connor's direction, voice even as he broke the silence and the word 'son' grated on Murphy's nerves like nails across a fucking chalk board.

Connor opened his eyes, he looked so tired and Murphy had to look away from Noah to take in the sight of exhaustion and discomfort in Connor's posture, his expression and in the crawling feeling over his own skin, channeling from his twin.

Connor opened his mouth to speak but had to clear his throat before he managed it and nodded,

"Aye." He rasped out before glancing at his nearly burnt out smoke and bringing it to his lips to finish it, his eyes focused back on the floor.

Noah glanced at Murphy again, he felt the man's eyes on him but he ignored their father in favor of chewing the inside of his lip and staring at the floor near Connor's scuffed boots.

If Noah had been going to ask the same question of Murphy, it never came and better that he hadn't bothered, or Murphy might have just told him to fuck off.

But Noah knew how to take a hint, from both of the twin's silence, because he sighed next,

"Alright, I'll be leavin' yeh' fer' the evenin' then…" he trailed off and where he usually tried to make an excuse about seeking out targets or tying up loose ends or fishing for information from sources, he said no more and after reaching for his coat where he'd thrown it over the back of one of the sofas, he pulled it on and then he was gone, the door snicking shut after him.

Neither Murphy nor Connor asked anything or looked at him as he left because neither of them cared, not usually and especially not right then. The man went on 'errands' frequently, it wasn't unusual.

The tension immediately drained from Murphy once Noah was gone and he walked to the door, locking it, bolting it and glaring at it for Noah's welcome departure before he turned around and walked through the lounge, glancing at Connor before he disappeared into the small dimly lit kitchen.

Murphy walked over the cracked linoleum tiles and over to the sink half full with dishes, he tossed his cigarette filter in some water standing in a cereal bowl before he reached up into the cupboards to grab a clean glass. He couldn't find a glass but he found a small mug and he filled it with water before turning around and walking back into the lounge.

He sat on the double seat sofa beside Connor, said twin didn't move a muscle aside from turning his head to slowly look at Murphy and then dropping his eyes to the water being offered to him. Connor left the bloody wash cloth he'd been holding on the sofa arm and raised his right hand, taking the mug from Murphy who took the cigarette filter from between Connor's left hand fingers. Murphy stood briefly to drop it in the ashtray on the wooden coffee table before he sat down again, elbows on his knees just as Connor sat.

Murphy waited as his twin sipped the water, rubbing the side of his stiff neck as they sat in silence. His skin felt clammy with sweat from adrenalin and heat and panic over everything that had happened earlier, and he ached all over, but he ignored every feeling, focusing only on Connor's pain, Connor's needs.

Connor sighed, swallowing his third sip a bit loudly before he held the mug out to Murphy, who took it as he watched Connor grimace when he raised his injured left arm to wipe water off his mouth with the back of his hand.

Murphy clenched and unclenched his jaw, wanting very badly to start a discussion, an argument, about Noah and how he needed to go, but he knew it wouldn't do Connor any good to fight, so he bit back every word he wanted to say and worried his lower lip with his tongue a few times as they sat in further silence.

Minutes passed before Connor sighed loudly and shifted back on the couch, grimacing again as he sat back, flinching as his injured shoulder touched the sofa. Neither of them cared that his blood would stain the material as it seeped through the bandage, so Connor relaxed back as much as he could, his torso curved and his long jean clad legs mostly off the couch, his booted feet set flat on the carpeted floor.

Murphy put the mug on the table before he folded his hands and brought them up, fist inside palm, his thumbs under his chin and he breathed over his knuckles as steadily as he could in all of his upset and frustration. But after another minute of no conversation, Murphy turned to look at Connor and he opened his hands again, running them, palms damp, over his blue jeans as he looked at his twin,

"Yeh' want te' take anything fer' the pain, I think we got something in the bathro-…"

Connor shook his head subtly where he'd leaned it back against the top of the sofa back,

"Et's fine, doesn't hurt as much as I thought et' would…" he snorted, eyes opening briefly to look at Murphy, "…last time I think et' was the burn from the clothes iron that was the worst of et'." He licked his lips.

Murphy watched him over his shoulder before he turned back to face forward and stared at the floor. He tried to, but he couldn't help it, he had to say something,

"You wouldn't have been shot if he wasn-…"

"Murphy, don't start." Connor cut him off, followed by a deep sigh and he sounded so tired, his voice was so quiet…so Murphy just shut his eyes tightly and forced himself to drop the subject.

They sat in silence for a long while, it was really quiet in their apartment, excluding the occasional sound of a car or a distant police siren filtering in from outside, down in the streets below.

Murphy could still feel the steady but muted throb of Connor's pain in his body and he was focusing on that sensation, but when a hand –firm, solid and warm- ran slowly from the back of his neck all the way down his spine. Murphy's eyes opened and he sighed softly, enjoying the feeling as the hand descended until Connor's fingers found their way under the hem of his shirt.

Connor's fingers lightly played over the skin of Murphy's lower back and Murphy felt goosebumps break out all over his body at the pleasant tickling sensation that Connor had come to learn he enjoyed.

Connor and he had both learned many intimate things about one another in the times they'd found alone to be together, to lie together as lovers despite being brothers. A transition and discovery period that Murphy had both feared and had been in awe of as it had developed, quickly moving beyond his control and becoming something he'd never have imagined being so completely…needed.

And right.

He hadn't ever imagined, wouldn't have been able to fathom once, that he could feel the way he did about Connor, but now he didn't want to imagine being without the feelings, being without Connor as more than a brother.

It still scared him sometimes, guilted him too, when he avoided it in confession or when they sat in an empty church in the early hours of the morning and he ended up more focused on Connor's thigh pressing against his where they'd sit close together as opposed to focusing on his prayers. But the weight of it was so small that Murphy barely noticed it most days.

His fear of God had not been quite as ironclad as he'd believed it to be. His love for Connor overpowered it in the end. And also, guilt faded easier as time went on, especially since being with Connor the way they were had only brought them closer, which as far as Murphy was concerned, could never be a bad thing.

Connor's fingers went from light tickling to firm, full hand caressing and rubbing and Murphy turned slowly in his seat, so he didn't jar his twin's wounded shoulder –which was attached to the hand caressing his skin- when he did so. Connor's hand slipped from under his shirt and Connor opened his eyes when Murphy shifted so he was leaning back with his shoulder pressed into the back of the sofa and he brought his one leg up on the couch, his knee pressing lightly into the side of Connor's thigh.

Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a while, leveling with one another, syncing up, telling each other without words that they were happy the other was alive.

Murphy blinked slowly when Connor's eyes slid shut and his twin sighed tiredly.

He sighed as well and slowly trailed his eyes down over Connor's handsome side profile. Murphy had often been irritated as a teenager when people had called him the 'prettier' twin and they'd always said Connor was more masculine, which had kind of made him feel jealous too. But he wasn't jealous anymore, he had no reason to be. Connor was everything he was…and he was everything to Murphy.

And if that meant that Connor was the more masculine twin, with more angular features, a stronger jaw line, fuller lips, tanner skin, lines and subtle creases in his face that made him look less soft, more severe, he had a deeper tenor to his voice, a deeper brogue, a more defined – so attractively defined- body and slightly taller and broader build…if it was a part of Connor, then Murphy loved it.

Murphy trailed his eyes further down, over the line of Connor's bared throat, into the hollow of his clavicle. His blue eyes skimmed over the bloody bandage secured around a strong shoulder before continuing to take in the sight of Connor's defined upper body. Connor's chest rose and fell evenly and Murphy looked over the light hair there, it trailed down the line of Connor's sternum, thinning out until it became thicker again below his navel and downward, to what was hidden beneath a belt and jeans and underwear.

Murphy knew the sight of what was beneath his twin's clothing, the scent of it…the taste of it too. He sighed, clenching his jaw as a pang of arousal moved through him before he noticed the lack of Connor's rosary around his neck and he became worried. He glanced around the lounge and spotted it coiled up above the small television set, so he relaxed again and returned to watching Connor, watching him breathe until his own breathing synchronized. After a minute Murphy frowned when he noticed the constant tensing of Connor's muscles from pain and tension that would not leave his body even as he rested.

Murphy sighed softly as he shifted closer carefully, leaning his head on the old couch as he stared at Connor's face, at his closed eyes, his nose, his lips…he looked as if he were asleep and Murphy felt guilty because he wanted to disturb him, to wake him up.

His body was demanding closeness, his heart rate increasing for very little reason besides the thoughts of touching Connor. His mind started racing at memories of touches and kisses, first times and fears and heat and the power of the need and want and of recent kisses and hands on sweated skin and Connor's tongue on his neck, Connor's mouth on his own, Connor's nakedness…warm and real and alive.

Near death experiences made Murphy feel desperate that way, every time they came close to dying, Murphy's desire became a force to be reckoned with, he had grown to need the touches.

But Connor was exhausted…how could he ask anything of his twin?

He sighed again and glanced at the door and then around the smoggy lounge, it'd been over a week since they'd last been alone, alone at all, even just to…kiss.

Murphy licked his lips, pursing them after as he turned to look at Connor again, before he shifted his weight. Murphy got onto his knees before he raised one leg over his twin's lap, straddling Connor carefully and he sat down gently just when Connor sleepily opened his eyes, inhaling lightly.

He had been asleep.

"Murph?" he frowned tiredly as he looked at their position.

Connor was exhausted but despite that, his hands were encouraging, loving and inviting as he raised, placed and ran them up Murphy's jean clad thighs, squeezing lightly, his right squeezing tighter than his left due to his injury,

"You okay?" he asked absently, mostly by default as he blinked sleepily.

Murphy nodded as he brought his hands up and held the sides of Connor's face before he slowly slid them down over his twin's neck and then careful of his wound, down over his bare chest and over his abs.

Murphy had come to realize that Connor was very attracted to him physically, Connor was open about it, with words and looks. But Murphy was less articulate about his thoughts of what he felt and thought about Connor physically. So he'd learned to express it by touch, by using his hands to caress Connor's muscled definition, his chest, his back, his arms and legs…anywhere on his body really. And also by using his tongue and his mouth and his eyes and his own body when they were intimate, it was his way of showing Connor how much he enjoyed him physically.

It still amazed Murphy how much had changed between them.

Just sitting there and knowing that only a few layers of clothing were separating Connor's cock from his ass, keeping them from connecting, it made him feel overwhelmed, so turned on that his face flushed and his blood heated.

Murphy's hands were still moving, massaging over the soft skin that covered the hard muscle of his twin's torso, when Connor spoke,

"Murph, I'm…" he looked at Connor to find his twin looked worried, distressed, afraid to say whatever he wanted to and Murphy frowned, "…I don't think…I…" Connor licked his dry, chapped lips, frowning deeper and hanging his head as he clenched his jaw tightly, exhaling loudly.

Murphy stopped frowning when the understanding of Connor's sudden worry dawned on him through their connection and he blinked, smiled softly and slid his hands back up so he was cradling his twin's face, raising it so Connor was looking at him, worried blue eyes meeting Murphy's comforting gaze,

"I know Connor, I don't expect yeh' to be able te', or even te' want to…yer' fucking flah'ed out*." He felt and watched the anxiety and tension leave Connor at his words.

Connor had thought Murphy would be angry about him not wanting to have sex.

Murphy stared down at him fondly, thinking of what an idiot his twin was as Connor's hands found his waist, slid under his shirt, smoothed over his skin in absent caresses while they held eye contact and Murphy nearly lost his breath at the feeling of love that warmed his entire body when Connor smiled at him tiredly,

"Sorry, I'll make et' up to yeh'."

Christ, what a cheesy thing to say. Murphy loved it.

He leaned down and kissed Connor's lips softly.

They were alone, the least they could do was kiss.

Murphy pressed a few kisses to Connor's lips, licking his own in between, breathing softly against Connor's mouth as his thumbs and fingers stroked along his twin's jaw and through the hair at the nape of his neck. Murphy closed his eyes and held their puckered lips together for a moment when Connor sighed quietly, calmly.

Murphy drew back slightly as he raised one hand and brushed it back through Connor's thick hair, easing his twin's head to rest back against the sofa,

"Relax, Conn…" Murphy mumbled, his lips against his brother's and he felt the well of emotion even before Connor frowned and his eyes watered slightly, "…just relax, et's fine, I love yeh'." he said it because he'd known Connor's fear had been that turning Murphy down this one time would have pushed him away.

Murphy knew Connor still feared that he would just change his mind one day.

But it would never happen. Connor should have but apparently didn't know…that Murphy couldn't stop needing and loving him now even if he tried, and never mind that, Murphy didn't want to stop.

Connor didn't actually cry, he rarely did but his emotions were raw in his gaze as he swallowed thickly, staring up at Murphy who felt his twin's fingers come up to skim lightly over his jaw and down the side of his neck,

"Yeh' sure et's fine? I want te' Murph, I always do…I just…"

"Shut up, Connor…" he mumbled, "I just want te'…" Murphy sighed, "…just want te' kiss yeh'."

Connor smiled again,

"Oh, is that all?" he asked in a soft teasing voice and Murphy kissed his smile.

Connor gave Murphy what he needed, parting his lips and slipping his tongue into his twin's mouth as Murphy did the same. Murphy slid his hands up into Connor's sweated, thick hair and clenched it lightly between his fingers as they kissed slowly, tongues moving across one another's lips deeply as well as in little licks and strokes.

Murphy felt Connor's hands run up and down his back slowly, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer as they breathed over one another's faces, into one another's mouths, not kissing, kissing, sighing and sniffing, eyes open and closed, their hearts pounding, enjoying the moment for what it was.

Connor kissed Murphy's chin, his neck, he wrapped his arms around Murphy's waist, inhaled against his throat, breathed out an 'I love you' and a further muffled 'Jesus fucking Christ, I love you' and all Murphy could do was close his eyes and remember to breathe as Connor's feelings twisted his insides all up in needy, desperate, pleasurable knots.

They kissed again, a little more insistent and desperate, a little more 'making out' than lightly kissing, more tongue and less breathing breaks and it didn't matter that the prominent bump of Connor's cock was straining against his jeans and that Murphy could feel it against ass. It didn't matter that it wouldn't take much to get Connor's jeans down, to suck him off until he was good and wet with pre-come and spit and then Murphy could take his brother inside him and go all the way, ride Connor like he'd learned to do quite well and bring them both to climax, as they'd done on several surfaces in several hotels, motels and shitty little temp apartments just like that one.

It didn't matter, because right then Connor was sore and exhausted but he loved Murphy so much that it hurt in Murphy's throat and chest, because it hurt in Connor's…

…and so kissing was enough right then.

Until whenever they'd be alone again next, kissing was enough.

We might live like never before.
When there's nothing to give.
Well how can we ask for more?

The door of the cheap hotel room was shut once they were inside and Connor locked it, tossing the heavy duffle bag containing the loot they'd acquired at the execution they'd just completed onto the floor. Its contents included $300 000 cash, a custom 44. Magnum with gold plating, four Beretta's and various gold and platinum jewelry.

The items they'd trade, the cash they'd keep, as per usual.

The night had been good.

Murphy was grinning.

Noah hadn't been with them, this particular execution had been his and Connor's own find and they'd carried it out alone. They'd chosen to do it when Noah was off on one of his overnight stints to wherever the fuck he went off to and it had gone beautifully.

For the first time in months, he and Connor had just flowed.

They'd shot locks off the doors and put bullets through five armed men like it was a slice of cake. And then they'd put the rapist, child trafficking son of a bitch who was in charge on his knees, right there on the broken glass from the expensive table that had broken during the fray.

And as their target had prayed and sputtered, begging like the filthy, weak man he was on his bleeding, cut knees, Murphy and Connor had recited their prayer and then put two bullets through the back of the man's head and out of his eyes.

Perfect.

It hadn't been perfect in a long time.

Connor had taken weeks to heal from his bullet wound and then they'd taken a further few weeks to find a target while avoiding Noah's uncertain, ill-advised target suggestions without being too obvious about it, making excuses about it not feeling right. Well, it really hadn't felt right.

And if Noah knew they were putting him off he didn't say anything about it.

Murphy didn't care, especially not after that night, after that execution that went off without flaw or injury to either of them.

This was how it was supposed to be.

Murphy turned around after tossing his coat and gloves onto one of the single beds, prepared to say 'I told you so' to Connor about them going their separate ways from Noah. But he didn't get that far because Connor was on him in seconds, pushing him back into the wall at the foot of the bed, hard enough that a decorative, cheap framed image on the wall shifted crooked and Murphy inhaled sharply at the dull pain.

Connor was grinning at him, sexy as all hell, his hair a mess from the balaclava and his skin sweated from the heat and high of their dangerous work. He'd also taken his coat, gloves and even his gun holster off and Murphy was attacked with a bruising kiss as Connor roughly pushed and tugged to get Murphy's holster off his shoulders.

Murphy kissed back just as eagerly, roughly, frowning as his body heated up a mile a minute and a moan slipped out of his mouth when Connor bit his lip and his guns and holster clattered at his feet.

"Fuck, Conn…" he breathed as Connor pinched his nipples through his turtleneck, still grinning, before he roughly pulled the shirt up and Murphy quickly raised his arms so his twin could pull it over his head before Connor threw it aside, leaving Murphy's rosary to fall against his chest.

Connor kissed him again, tongue, tongue and teeth and his hands were so firm as they groped and firmly felt Murphy up, all over his upper body, along his sides and his back and then up into his hair, pulling slightly.

Connor wasn't giving Murphy a chance to find a coherent thought.

And Murphy loved the fact that it was hard for him to breathe.

God, he loved it.

He loved Connor.

Murphy's hands went on autopilot to hastily unbuckle and pull Connor's belt from his twin's jeans when Connor broke the kiss off to reach back and pull his own turtleneck up and off. The belt landed on the floor and Connor grabbed Murphy's hands, his wrists, pulling them up and roughly pinning them to the wall under his hot hands as Connor pressed their bodies flush together. Their rosaries pressed into Murphy's skin as Connor assaulted Murphy's mouth again, and then next his neck –making marks they both knew were not a good idea- as Connor sucked and bit and grinded their hips together.

Murphy pressed his head back into the wall as Connor –honest to God- was keeping his hands pinned to the wall, using his superior upper body strength and his power over Murphy's weakness for his closeness to overwhelm him, to keep Murphy pinned there, breathing heavily and moaning into the quiet, impersonal and dark hotel room, as Connor marked his skin with his hot mouth.

"I need te' fuck yeh', Murph." Connor's hot breath was suddenly at his ear, followed by his teeth scraping over Murphy's earlobe and then Connor's tongue slipping along the shell of his ear. Murphy just swallowed thickly and listened as Connor's released his wrists and his twin's deft hands unfastened his belt and pants and they fell to the floor along with Murphy's underwear, "I need te' be inside you, et's been too fuckin' long."

Murphy mentally agreed as he worried his lower lip with his tongue, it had been a while, they hadn't been together since Connor had recovered from his gun wound three or so weeks ago and at the time they'd fucked in a bathroom stall at a gas station in the early hours of the morning, because Noah had been taking too long to give them any time alone.

"Aye…" Murphy breathed out as Connor started to kiss down his body, sucking on his skin, his nipples, his abs, his twin's tongue running into his navel before Connor's nose trailed into his pubic hair and then he licked up along the length of Murphy's cock and Murphy huffed out a breath at the sensation. And when Connor was on his knees, his blunt nails raking faint red lines up the insides of Murphy's pale thighs, Murphy bit his lip at the subtle burn and exhaled shakily, his insides twisting and fluttering with pleasure and need.

His hands started to shake as Connor sucked his cock, Murphy's legs felt weak and he braced himself with a hand against the ugly wallpaper and one in Connor's untidy hair. He moaned and breathed audibly, uninterested in the volume because they were in some hotel where Noah didn't know they were, no one there knew them.

Murphy wondered if this had been Connor's plan when he said he didn't feel like driving all the way home that night? Was it because he'd wanted Murphy like this? Unburdened by being secretive and needing to control his volume as he moaned and panted while slowly thrusting his cock into Connor's mouth, his toes curling inside his boots at the incredible pleasure of it all.

Fuck, Connor had gotten good at sucking cock.

Murphy was having trouble not moaning, let alone keeping the volume down.

"Connor…" he breathed out just when said twin drew off his cock with a wet sound and extracted a small sachet of Astroglide from his back pocket. Murphy didn't care to wonder when Connor had pocketed the convenient little packet because he knew what came next and his body keened in anticipation.

Murphy quickly yanked his feet out of his boots and stepped out of the clothes at his ankles, kicking all of it aside before he parted his legs by leaning his weight against the wall and propping one leg up on the foot of the bed. Connor ripped the packet open with his teeth and coated some of the lube on four of his fingers before he leaned in again.

Murphy's head bumped back against the wall as he choked on a breathy moan, Connor was sucking at his balls as he pushed two fingers into Murphy's asshole and the stretch was barely uncomfortable, the sting was welcome, familiar even and the heat of Connors' breath and the wetness of his tongue never failed to be wonderfully distracting.

They really had gotten better at sex, far more comfortable with one another than they were that first time, or even the second and third and while Murphy was learning fast, Connor was excelling beyond expect-…Christ…Connor had three fingers in him now and he was sucking again. Murphy bumped his head back against the wall again, once, twice, groaning low in his throat and biting his lip. He exhaled Connor's name and grimaced, clenching his teeth when a fourth finger was added to stretch him out, four fingers always hurt.

Murphy looked down at Connor, who was bobbing along his cock at a steady pace and Murphy curled his fingers into Connor's hair and panted shakily when Connor pressed his fingers against Murpy's prostate intentionally.

Yup, they knew what they were doing now.

Lubrication and knowledge made a world of fucking difference.

Murphy honestly never came harder than when he was being fucked by Connor, no hand job or blow job competed, although he would never complain about those particular pleasures because, shit, Connor had a talent.

Connor was fucking incredible.

Murphy pursed his lips, exhaling loudly through his nose when the fingers and the hot, wet mouth of his twin were removed from his body. Connor kissed his thighs, his abdomen, he sucked lightly on the fair skin there, leaving yet another mark that he shouldn't and then Murphy couldn't wait any longer.

He tugged up on Connor's hair and when his twin stood Murphy unfastened Connor's jeans, briefly rubbing at his stiff erection through the denim, making Connor groan softly and lean closer to him. Murphy took the sachet of lube from Connor as said twin pushed his jeans and underwear down his legs so they fell on his boots.

They kissed for a few seconds when they both stood naked and Murphy arched into Connor, pressing his throbbing cock against his twin's before he brought his hand up to his mouth.

Murphy licked his palm a few times to wet it as Connor watched with heated eyes, his lips were swollen and his breathing raspy and he was so sexy as he leaned his hands against the wall either side of Murphy's head. Murphy caught Connor's lips in a kiss as he palmed and stroked Connor's cock with just the spit on his hand at first, because the friction was better, he knew his twin liked it and Connor moaned gratefully. He kissed Murphy roughly as his hips twitched so his cock moved into Murphy's hand, his mouth sliding against Murphy's and then to the side of Murphy's jaw to suck lightly.

Another mark. And fuck if Murphy cared.

He'd find a way to cover it up tomorrow.

Connor was mumbling about how much he loved the taste of Murphy's skin in Irish, his accent was more pronounced and it was incredibly sexy to Murphy. That and Connor's mouth on his skin and his hands, one now on Murphy's ass cheek, gripping, and the other on Murphy's raised thigh at the side of Connor's waist, his nails bluntly digging into sensitive skin… Murphy made a sound almost like a whine as he exhaled against Connor's shoulder and squeezed his twin's cock once more, stroking slowly up before he let go.

Murphy squeezed the Astroglide into his palm, tossed the packet and deftly spread the lube over Connor's straining sex before he pushed Connor back a bit to give himself room to bring his shaking leg down so he could turn around. Murphy did so, bending over slightly and leaning his forearms against the wall, spreading his legs. Connor kicked his boots and clothes aside before he stepped up behind Murphy closely, rubbing his slick cock along the cleft of Murphy's ass and over his anus a few times, just because Murphy loved the feeling, before he positioned himself and pressed in.

And fuck, Connor went in easy and slow and slick and Murphy moaned, mouth hanging open as he pressed his sweaty forehead against the wallpaper, closing his eyes and pushing his ass back on his brother's cock until it slid home and Connor was ball's deep inside him.

It never failed to feel fucking amazing.

Connor's hands were roughly caressing and touching Murphy's skin, running up over his back and down over his hips, leaving red blotches in their wake as Connor pressed himself as far in as he could go, panting heavily.

"Fuck…" Connor exhaled shakily.

Murphy did too as his mind raced and he registered every pleasure currently inhabiting his body, their closeness, their connection, the physical fulfillment and the emotional, the raw pleasure of the pressure against his prostate and the feeling of Connor's hands wandering his skin roughly as said twin sucked another hickey onto Murphy's shoulder.

"Murph?"

"Aye."

A simple breathy exchange of a question and answer, Connor needing Murphy's consent to go ahead.

And then Connor was holding Murphy's hips tightly and thrusting, fucking into and out of Murphy's ass smoothly, Connor angling his movements downward from the get go because he knew now just how to best stimulate Murphy's prostate in any position they chose and Murphy moaned, unable to help it as pushed back in time with Connor and held himself up on weak legs and his arms braced against the wall.

Murphy felt every pull and press, he felt the stretch and relax of his rectum around Connor's thick girth moving inside him, he felt pleasure with every thrust, building slowly, as Connor moved faster and harder until their skin was slapping and their moans and grunts filled the room.

It was incredible, the feeling, it always was, from the very first time and Murphy always forgot to breathe as he was wracked by pleasure and heated by love and lust and need and the sex with Connor, his twin, was the most amazing thing, created the most insatiable desires, fulfilled the deepest longings…

Jesus Christ.

Connor had once said that he would commit their sin a thousand times over.

Murphy knew he would too.

Murphy frowned and moaned his pleasure into the wall, Connor's hands on his shoulder and hip bracing him as Connor fucked into him forcefully, filling Murphy with feelings and pleasure so intense that he couldn't stop the noises slipping from his mouth. Murphy didn't even think about it before he was masturbating himself and coming onto the old wallpaper and floor of the hotel room as Connor mumbled and moaned praises of love behind Murphy, his twin's hips moving erratically by this point.

Connor would come soon too, inside of him, like he did every time and Murphy smiled to himself as the pleasurable thought of it enhanced his orgasm while it moved through him, making him tremble and feel blessed and grateful and amazing.

He'd be going to hell, but he'd be going with Connor.

When Connor came he thrust a few times fast, deep and stilted, drawing a few soft moans from Murphy, and then he pressed himself deep into Murphy, clutching at Murphy's hips and his breathing was ragged as he moaned quietly.

Murphy always waited until Connor was ready to leave his body and after a minute passed until Connor slowly pulled out, Murphy stood up straight, ignoring the kink in his back and he was about to turn around, but Connor stopped him.

Connor's arms slipped around Murphy's waist, embracing him, the length of their bodies pressed together, Connor's front to Murphy's back and his twin breathed quietly into his hair,

"Murphy, let's give et' up…?" it was a question, Murphy could tell by Connor's tone and there was a beat of deep, slow breathing as the words settled between them.

Murphy frowned, he understood what was being asked and he swallowed thickly, feeling caught off guard and uncertain.

Connor must have picked it up via the connection because he pressed his face into the side of Murphy's neck and elaborated,

"Just fer' a while, not forever…I just want…I want some time…" he said quietly and sniffed, emotions peaking enough that Murphy felt the anxiousness and stress Connor was feeling as a tightening in his shoulders and chest,

"Some time fer' what?" he asked quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor as his arms came up to hold Connor's around his waist.

Murphy knew that every day, more and more, with Noah around it felt like it was no longer God's work, so he wondered if Connor wanted time to wait for another sign.

But after a shaken breath, Connor sniffed again and shook his head against Murphy's neck,

"I just want some time…te' be with yeh' today without worrying about whether I'll be able to tomorrow." Connor said softly, kissing Murphy's neck before resting his chin on Murphy's shoulder, "We used te' have that, I just want et' again, fer' a little while…but if yeh' don't want that…" he trailed off with a sigh.

Murphy unhooked Connor's arms from his waist and turned around to face his brother, meeting his serious blue eyes with a matching look. A look between them could be more decisive, it was so they could sync up, level with one another, so he could understand just what Connor was feeling.

And when he saw the sincere need for this request to be acquiesced reflected in Connor's eyes, Murphy found that the idea of knowing Connor would still be there when he woke up the next day, unwounded, smiling and healthy, released a feeling within him of longing for a time when it had been that way, just as Connor said, the way it had been before it got so…complicated and dangerous.

Murphy raised his hands, running one over the most recent scar of the bullet wound on Connor's shoulder and he lowered his gaze before he pulled Connor into a hug, naked skin tingling wherever they touched as he wrapped his arms around Connor's neck and Connor's encircled his waist again.

No verbal answer was required, because Connor would feel it…that Murphy wanted the same as him.

Just for a little while…it sounded nice.

Take me away, unravel everything.
I wanna feel you breathe inside me.

Writing with your fingers, all across my back.
If you feel what I feel, I'll guess it just like that...

It was cold on the open sea, he and Connor were wrapped in jackets and clothing suitable for the weather as they stood on the main deck of the cargo ship between two of the large containers, smoking there where the wind didn't reach them too badly.

The money they'd made on that last execution a week ago had enabled them to buy passes on a ship, so presently, they were on their way to Ireland. Going to Ireland had been Noah's idea surprisingly, more surprising for Murphy was that when they'd told him about their independent execution and their decision to stop for a while, Noah hadn't protested.

In fact, he'd said he agreed and he'd smiled almost…relieved.

It was probably the only moment in all the time he'd been in their presence since his appearance at Yakavetta's that Murphy hadn't felt complete loathing, anger and irritation toward the man.

Presently Noah was in the area of the ship that the three of them had been allocated to lodge in throughout the trip, the old man was probably asleep like most of the other people catching a ride across the Atlantic at that time of night or early morning, Murphy wasn't sure. He was sure though, that acclimating to Ireland after living in the states for so long would take a while.

He was excited though. Excited about spending every day with Connor.

Smecker had seemed relieved as well as sad when they'd informed him of their decision but he'd helped as much as he could with getting them out of the country unseen. Most of the organizing to get them across the sea was done by Noah, and Connor and Murphy sorted some of it out themselves. They did know a few people after so long of being in America and they called in some favors, asked for a few new ones.

Now here they were, somewhere far out on the Atlantic Ocean, far from where they could be killed by mafia enemies or arrested. They knew they couldn't move around boldly in Ireland, they wouldn't be able to go and live in any of the big cities, despite Ireland's extradition laws being lined with red tape when it came to intercontinental criminal matters, Connor and Murphy were considered highly dangerous, most wanted and would be high priority when it came to manhunts and searches, so they'd have to lay low.

Noah had taken care of that, of the place they'd be living and its safety...he'd said something about Uncle Sibeal and a farm.

It sounded okay. It sounded peaceful.

Which was important.

Connor exhaled a stream of smoke as they leaned against containers, standing opposite each other, a few feet apart,

"Pity we can't go an' see Ma." He said with a small smile.

Murphy nodded as he raised his cigarette to his lips, then he paused to speak,

"Aye, but I think even if we could without being arrested, she would give us a fuckin' beatin'." They looked at each other, Connor raising an eyebrow and Murphy lowered his voice and leaned a little closer, "We've killed a lot of people Conn, et' isn't like et' was when we just started out in Boston." He shook his head, "I don't think she'd be impressed with us."

Connor raised both eyebrows now, agreement dawning on him.

The fact that in their nine months in New York their body count had surpassed 100 by far, meant that their mother would probably be more ashamed than angry, but a beating was very likely.

Connor nodded and Murphy sighed out a puff of smoke and condensation from the cold air,

"Et' is a lot." Connor mumbled and they both took a second to think about it.

They were murderers, they'd been dubbed 'The Saints' by the public, but labeled serial killers by Interpol.

Serial Killers

Not vigilantes anymore. There were too many dead bodies with a discernible pattern to their killings, a specific type of people were targeted, there were even break periods between the 'murders'.

Smecker had said they fit the profile…technically, but Smecker had also said not to take it personally.

Besides, it was a bit late to start worrying about labels now.

"So how long do yeh' think our break should be?" Murphy asked as he continued to smoke.

Connor was staring out past the narrow space between the large containers to the high railing of the deck nearby, beyond which the ocean was barely visible aside from small flashes of white foam, because it was so dark due to the cloud cover over the open ocean,

"Maybe a year, unless we get a sign…" he glanced at Murphy who nodded in agreement, leaving it to Connor to make the major decisions as he usually did and receiving a look of question for agreement from Connor as per usual, he loved how well they synced up, "…an' when we go back, maybe we can go te' the west coast, I think we've done enough in New York and Boston fer' a good long while." Connor finished.

Murphy agreed so he nodded again and finished his cigarette,

"S'true, Paul did say that we'd attracted ten times as much attention by knocking off NY criminals than what we'd gotten in Boston." He commented with a smirk.

"Aye, et' wouldn'ta been long before et' got too risky for us te' be there." Connor said, smoking slower than Murphy had been.

Murphy had a sudden, concerning and upsetting thought and he couldn't help but to voice it,

"D'ya think we'll die in the line of duty…so te' speak, or do yeh' think we'll end up in prison?" he looked Connor in the eye.

Connor's expression became oddly tense for a few seconds, as if he were remembering something awful and then he looked worried before he took one long final, stressed, drag on his cigarette. He flicked the filter over the railing and forced a shrug,

"I don't want te' think about et', Murph, however et' works out I'm not worried…I'd rather just live in the now." He didn't meet Murphy's eyes when he spoke.

Murphy sensed there was something serious, more complicated about Connor's avoidance to talk about it, but he didn't want to dredge up whatever was bothering Connor, maybe some other time, right then he decided to tease instead,

"Oh, look at yeh' bein' all fuckin' Hakuna Matata an' shit, no worries, livin' in the now." He snickered as he flicked his own filter over the railing and Connor reached out and caught him around his neck in a head lock,

"Shut yer' mouth…" he said jokingly, rubbing his knuckles into Murphy's hair as said twin wrestled to get free and laughed.

When really….anywhere close to Connor was just where Murphy wanted to be…

...stay with me stay with me stay with me, trip with me trip with me trip with me, be with me be with me be with me...

Am I really here, on the ceiling?
Way up here, somewhere I am dancing.
Things keep falling just like I do.
Well am I really here, next to you?

Ireland was nice.

Peaceful.

Damp.

Quiet.

Green.

Beautiful.

Boring.

Fresh.

Cold.

It'd been four months since they'd arrived, three months since they'd settled and several weeks since Connor and Murphy had discovered that finding time to be together came far more easily and often all the way out there.

The nearest town was a far distance away, so when Noah went into town –being as he was the least recognized out of the three of them- he went for a few days in order to retrieve supplies and then he'd spend some time drinking with Uncle Sibeal, who always fetched and brought Noah back at predictable times.

The twin's did get 'alone' time to sneak kisses when they were out herding the sheep, but it felt too exposed out in the open fields and they rarely, almost never, did. So in order to really be together and alone, Noah needed to be gone.

And since being in Ireland, he was gone at least two times a month, for at least three days at a time, which was fucking excellent. And for the desperate times, when the twin's needed to be together in some way, even if it was just to make out, a hand job or dry humping, then there was the barn, which was quite a walk from the small stone farm house and Noah didn't leg it anywhere if he could help it.

He was getting old and Connor and Murphy could see it now that they'd settled.

Noah was past his day, out of his prime.

And neither twin minded.

Presently, at that very moment, they were alone. Completely alone.

Alone like they'd never been, even in Boston or New York, in any cheap hotel or motel.

It was raining heavily outside, so badly you couldn't make out the landscape if you tried to see it. It was also chilly and while their shared bedroom didn't have a fireplace, the house was small and the fireplace at the front of the house was large enough that it warmed the whole place for hours, even after the fire was put out. The fireplace along with the gas lamps in their bedroom kept things decently warm. Additionally, the stone walls kept the heat in, the windows were all closed, the curtains all drawn, the doors locked and they were miles away from anyone or anything, completely alone in the middle of fucking nowhere.

They were both on Murphy's bed which was set against the wall on one side of the small bedroom, small enough that it only allowed a meter or so of space between their beds and that was just how they liked it, but right then, when they were alone, they occupied one bed.

Connor was lying on his back, his eyes closed, mouth open slightly to hitching breaths, head pressed back into Murphy's pillow, face expressing pleasure –at least that's what he'd looked like when last Murphy had been up for air. But currently Murphy was under the blanket, lying to the side of Connor's gorgeous naked body with his own naked body bent to accommodate his head in Connor's lap as his mouth worked, sucking generously at Connor's hard, throbbing cock.

Murphy was taking it slow, sucking hard and wet but not fast, bobbing his head slowly, moving his tongue languidly, alternating between rolling Connor's balls and stroking the excess length of Connor's large cock he couldn't comfortably take into his mouth with his free hand as he leaned on his other arm.

He wasn't trying to bring Connor off after all, this was just foreplay. Really enjoyable foreplay for both of them.

Murphy heard Connor say his name breathlessly and he felt Connor's sex throb in his mouth as Connor's hips moved with amazingly steady control, fucking Murphy's mouth gently.

Murphy lacked that kind of control and he admired Connor so much for it, he also appreciated it because Connor never made him gag as Murphy occasionally, accidently, did to his twin when their positions were reversed.

Murphy swallowed the pre-come and saliva gathered in the back of his throat and he heard Connor hum in pleasure, his hands moving in slow and occasionally tightening caresses through Murphy's short hair.

He was enjoying himself, enjoying the taste, the weight of Connor on his tongue and even though the heat was somewhat stifling under the blanket, the entire situation felt incredibly intimate.

Murphy slipped Connor's cock from his mouth in order to give some attention to his twin's balls, licking and sucking the sensitive textured skin there and Connor's hips jerked slightly as Murphy stroked his cock with his hand at the same time, Connor's legs parting slightly wider and making Murphy adjust his own position to accommodate his twin.

He kissed Connor's thigh next and then made a discreet mark there, in a place no one but himself ever saw. Murphy slowly trailed his kisses upward as he masturbated Connor steadily, and Connor moaned somewhat loudly, making Murphy smile against the defined line of the V of Connor's waist, feeling his own arousal course through him at the deep sound.

Murphy kissed and licked Connor's skin before he licked his lips and gave one last suck to the purple-red head of his twin's sex. He left the suffocating heat of under the blanket after that, stretching out along his twin's body until he was at eye level again and Murphy caught Connor's parted lips in a wet kiss, slipping his tongue quickly into Connor's mouth and making his twin open his eyes and inhale deeply as he started to kiss back.

Connor's hands moved over Murphy's naked skin as their mouths remained latched to one another, rough palms sliding down Murphy's back, over his buttocks and Murphy just pressed closer, his one thigh settled between Connor's legs putting pressure on said twin's straining sex.

They kissed for a while, wet and slow and with soft moans and deep breaths passing between them as Murphy's forearms settled either side of Connors' head and Murphy thoroughly mussed his twin's hair with his hands, loving the texture of the thick, light brown hair between his fingers.

Christ, Murphy couldn't imagine being anywhere more perfect.

When they finally stopped kissing it was Connor's turn to mess up Murphy's hair as Murphy lavished Connor's neck and collarbone with kisses and light suckles.

Murphy felt warm and safe and happy, so happy.

"Are yeh' happy, Conn?" he found himself asking as he leaned his forehead on Connor's rising and falling chest, his twin was radiating heat, his skin only just slightly damp with sweat.

"Aye, more than I've ever been…" Connor answered back quietly, intimately, just as Murphy had asked as Connor slowly moved his hips against Murphy's thigh, getting subtle friction to his cock as he scraped his blunt nails pleasantly through Murphy's hair, over his scalp.

Murphy's eyes closed at the sensation and he sighed contentedly,

"Et' is nice…being alone like this…"

"Being together like this is fuckin' amazing." Connor added and Murphy raised his head so he could look at Connor and smile, receiving one in return.

Connor inhaled deeply then as he shifted and Murphy shifted with him, so they were both lying on their sides, level with one another, both up on one elbow and looking at one another closely. Connor brought a hand up and played with the short hair at the sides of Murphy's face. Murphy had noticed a while back that his twin seemed to like doing that, and then Connor stroked his long fingers down the front of Murphy's throat and onto his chest,

"Thank yeh', Murph." He said quietly.

Murphy frowned,

"Fer' what?" he shifted to lie down on the pillow, still on his side, his head just below Connor's elbow.

"Fer' agreeing te' take a break, so we could have this fer' a while."

Murphy stared at him, his chest warming with love as he watched Connor look back at him affectionately,

"I should say thanks te' you." He mumbled, shifting closer. He was not good with tender words, so he raised his head and leaned in a bit to kiss Connor's neck and his chest and said twin's hand came back up from its venture down Murphy's torso to rake slowly through Murphy's hair again,

"An' why's that?" Connor asked quietly, sounding as content as Murphy felt.

Murphy smiled against his skin as he looked up, only raising his eyes,

"Cause' I would never have known et' could be this way if yeh' hadn'ta kissed me." Murphy kissed the skin beneath his lips, his eyes closing as he recalled how shocked, confused and yet so curious he'd felt when Connor had kissed him that night, so many months ago.

Murphy had been afraid too, afraid of the consequences regarding both their faith and their brotherly relationship, he'd been afraid of the mortal sin in its rawest form…but that had been understandable at the time.

Now though, since accepting it, he was unaffected by those thoughts and concerns.

He was happy and Connor was happy.

They loved God, there was no doubt, but they would always love each other more.

Connor made a soft sound, somewhere between happy but still uncertain about Murphy's honesty on the subject. Murphy wondered if Connor would always be so unsure, so insecure. He hoped not.

Murphy shifted himself up to be level with Connor, leaning on his elbow again so he could kiss Connor slowly as Murphy held the side of his twin's neck and Connor kissed him back with a hint of desperation behind it.

Connor's kisses were often borderline desperate, completely honest in his need and his love, Connor kissed Murphy like it might be his last every time. And Murphy always tried to kiss Connor with patience and care, wanting to reassure Connor that his fears were unfounded.

Murphy shivered slightly, surprised by the sudden rush of feelings coming across their connection from Connor, possessiveness, need, lust, trepidation…and love, so much love. Connor shifted again, pressing into the kiss harder as his hand came up and over Murphy, and Murphy eased himself down to lie on his back, as had been Connor's intention as his hands bracketed Murphy's head and they continued to kiss deeply, Murphy allowing Connor to dominate his mouth.

Murphy moaned softly when Connor moved to lay on top of him and their bodies pressed together, Connor settling comfortably between Murphy's naked legs as the kiss drew to a sensual, slow close. Murphy inhaled deeply, the scent of Connor's warmth, his skin, his sweat, his sex, it was all Connor now, all around him in that small room as Murphy lay beneath his brother.

Murphy adjusted his legs so Connor fit properly between his thighs as Connor gazed down at him,

"Lube or spit?" he asked quietly.

Murphy met his eyes as he got comfortable, pulling the pillow out from under his head so he was lying flat on his back,

"S'up te' you." He answered as he tossed the pillow over onto Connor's bed.

Connor shifted above him, balancing on one arm so he could reach a hand between them and take a hold of their cocks, stroking them tightly together, making Murphy's concentration scatter as he arched his hips into the sensation and his hands moved to slide down Connor's sides.

"….don't want te' finish the lube, but I'd rather use et." Connor admitted in a husky mumble.

Murphy licked his bottom lip, swallowing a moan as he forced himself to think about what Connor had said and when he comprehended it, he agreed. He knew they needed to try and make their stash last for as long as possible because they had no idea how or where they'd buy more there in Ireland, where they were way out in the boonies and weren't allowed to go into town, but Murphy also wanted to use it because it was just better.

"…lube or spit, Murph?" Connor repeated absently as he bit his lip, pleasure etched into his face as he moved his hand between them and Murphy watched his face with quiet desire, enjoying Connor's ministrations equally,

"Ah, ah…fuck…use the…lube, Conn…" Murphy breathed out, body tensing in pleasure with every tight stroke.

Connor nodded and his hand stopped, he removed it from under the blanket and still balancing on his other arm he slipped his free hand off the bed's edge and under Murphy's mattress.

They had restocked on lube before leaving the states and had snuck it into their belongings, now they kept some sachets under Connor's mattress and some under Murphy's, for convenience.

Connor made a face of impatience as he felt around until he managed to find one and he pulled the small packet out and into sight. He readjusted his weight and ripped it open with his teeth. Murphy took the sachet from him because both of his hands were free and he put some of it onto Connor's right hand fingers and the rest into his own palm.

They kissed again after Murphy tossed the sachet somewhere, they were drawn to each other's mouths almost absently as their hands went to work beneath the blanket, between their bodies, perfectly in sync, their mouths moving together wetly, softly smacking, as Connor fingered Murphy's asshole open and Murphy spread the lube over Connor's stiff cock.

The kiss tapered off a minute later when Connor shifted to position himself, his lips drew away slowly over Murphy's cheek and jaw, Connor's head lowering until Murphy's lips were lightly pressed to the bridge of his nose, while Connor supported his weight above Murphy on steady arms.

Murphy adjusted his position as well, raising his hips and legs as Connor moved closer, said twin getting onto his knees on the mattress and spreading his legs so he was supporting the backs of Murphy's thighs with his own, keeping Murphy's legs raised, spread and hooked over Connor's legs.

The position caused the blanket to slip almost completely off their bodies, but neither of them were cold so they didn't care.

Murphy watched Connor's face as he felt Connor penetrate him, slick, hard and thick and Murphy pressed back on Connor's sex, assisting its entrance as he arched against Connor just as said twin pressed his cock up and into Murphy's body with familiar ease and a welcomed ache.

It always hurt and always felt good and Murphy breathed out a quiet moan at the stretch and fulfillment, parting his lips and exhaling shortly once Connor was inside him completely. Murphy clutched Connor's forearm with one hand and his other gripped Connor's flank as the heat of Connor's closeness mixed with the pleasure made his skin prickle with sweat and goosebumps.

In that position, sex always felt far more intimate and personal.

They hadn't often fucked that way, with Murphy on his back and Connor on top…the missionary position.

But it was mostly because they rarely had the time or the privacy to enjoy what came with it back when they'd been in America.

But lately…lately they did it this way more often, and they were able to kiss the entire time as they fucked, even if they didn't call it fucking when they had missionary sex, they wouldn't call it anything else either, mostly because they couldn't bring themselves to call it something sappy.

It just was what it was.

"Murphy…." Connor husked against Murphy's mouth as he lowered to support himself on his forearms and he pulled out before thrusting back in. Murphy's breath caught on a moan when Connor pushed back in intentionally slow, angling just right and making white pinpricks of light dance across Murphy's vision as heat and pleasure coiled in his loins.

Connor continued to move, establishing a steady rhythm of slow and deep , deftly rolling his hips to pull out and slide back in evenly and it didn't take long for Murphy's legs to start trembling, remaining wide apart to accommodate Connor's waist as Murphy's hands and blunt nails dug into the skin of Connor's lower back and his firm, tensing buttocks, pulling Connor closer, wanting him there inside.

Murphy was moaning, subconsciously quieter than usual, but still not so much that it felt like a secret between them, instead it was just an intimate, delicate moment.

Connor moaned too, in between kisses, during kisses and with the occasional thrust. Whereas Murphy felt every thrust and the tendons in his neck stood out when he pressed his head back into the mattress and he smiled, exhaling tightly, groaning his pleasure to the wooden headboard and digging his nails into Connor's skin when Connor sped up his thrusts while lightly dragging his teeth along the column of Murphy's pale, bared throat.

"Fuck…Connor…" Murphy laughed softly as the expanse of his skin tingled and goosepimpled, heating with sweat from a particularly direct thrust and the sound he made became a moan as Connor did it again, and then again, grinning sexily down at Murphy as he lightly gripped a handful of Murphy's sweat damp hair. A series of moans followed from Murphy, they filled the room as Connor continued to move faster and more directly, his mouth trailing from Murphy's own to Murphy's neck, to his shoulder, to his ear and into his hair, Connor moaning and panting and kissing all the while.

Murphy's pleasure was mixed in and heightened, caught up in Connor's heavy breathing, in his low moans, his hot, damp skin, the smacking of their skin as Connor thrust and the steadiness, the strength of Connor's body moving between his shaking legs.

There was definitely more intimacy to missionary.

Connor's hand grasped Murphy's hair, Connor's mouth lavished his own with deep, breathy kisses, Connor's scent overwhelmed Murphy's senses, Connor's body fit perfectly along his own, inside his own.

Together. Like that.

Murphy clutched Connor tightly as his orgasm neared, moving his hips down to meet Connor's thrusts as best he could. He felt and relished the buildup, the telling burn and tightening coils of pleasure, he felt it in his trembling legs, it made his toes curl. He felt it in his cock rubbing between their bodies, between his firm stomach and Connor's defined abs. Murphy felt it in his fingertips, he tasted it in his mouth, felt it from the sweat prickling all over his skin, he felt it in the tightness of his balls and in the sensitivity of his rectum.

Murphy felt it build right up and move all the way through him as he writhed against Connor for all he was worth, digging his nails into Connor's back as said twin had reached the point where he was fucking into Murphy relentlessly and so steadily, one pace, one angle, one intention.

To make Murphy come for him.

And Murphy moaned pathetically when his orgasm hit him.

His head fell back as Connor levered up onto his hands in order to fuck Murphy just that much harder and Murphy's eyes rolled up to the cross hanging above his bed,

"Aah GOD, Connor!" Murphy rasped out, unintentionally blaspheming –so inappropriately- as he was blinded by the pleasure wracking the length of his frame. Murphy absently slipped one hand between their bodies so he could masturbate himself, his eyes sliding shut as his body twitched and trembled at the additional sexual stimulation. He couldn't breathe for several seconds as he came only somewhat onto his stomach and hand, since most of his release was internal but still every bit as intense.

Connor didn't falter in his thrusting, and he didn't hold out much longer either. Every wave and pulse of pleasure that Murphy felt, Connor felt it too to a fairly large degree, Murphy knew that because he felt Connor's orgasms in the same way. Murphy knew the fact that he often couldn't breathe when they were intimate was because Connor's intense feelings coupled with his own were so much to handle, so much to feel and understand.

It was bizarre and overwhelming and so fucking real, Murphy wouldn't change their strange connection for anything in the world.

Connor came hard, his breathing harsh as he fucked into Murphy's body forcefully enough that Murphy had to grip the sheet with one hand for leverage, holding onto Connor's shoulder with the other.

There was a slow, warm spreading of pleasurable sensation that moved through Murphy when Connor orgasmed and Murphy breathed out stilted 'ah' sounds with every loud slap of their skin, Connor's cock still stimulating his sensitive rectum and adding to the strange surreal sensation.

And Connor's mouth was on his seconds later, no tongue, just lip to lip kisses and deep exhales and inhales and Connor's entire frame trembling as his hips stuttered, slowed and then stilled and he weakly lowered onto his forearms again as he pressed his sex all the way into Murphy, settling there, coming inside of Murphy with his pleasure deeply etched into his expression.

Murphy's breathing was fast but quiet as he felt Connor's body relax on top of him, his twin's admirable strength, the tension in his muscles and his stamina leaving him so that he was just a warm, trembling, satisfied –incredible- man, melting into Murphy.

Murphy remained in position so as not to disturb Connor, with his legs bent up and relaxed despite the lingering jelly like feeling, his thighs straddling Connor's sides as Connor rode out his orgasm, softly kissing Murphy all the while, almost chastely, sweet pecks all along his jaw line and over his lips.

Murphy returned them in kind, smiling tenderly.

He smiled a lot when he was alone with Connor, honestly, how could he not?

After a decent recovery time, Connor detached their bodies carefully and he rolled onto his back on the open ended side of the bed. Murphy relaxed his shaky legs then and he stretched out to ease the kinks in his muscles as Connor grabbed their cigarettes, which were on the small wooden stool between the beds, so they could smoke as per usual. Connor lit up two smokes and then held one out to Murphy.

Murphy rolled onto his side and took the cigarette, taking two quick drags from it as he and Connor settled in on the single bed, lying facing one another. Murphy was propped up on his elbow and Connor laid flat, his cheek rested on his bicep, one of his legs was between Murphy's, it was familiar and comfortable.

They smoked in silence, Murphy sniffed occasionally, glancing between Connor and his cigarette and Connor's blue eyes trailed absently over Murphy's face and chest, as if he was so interesting to stare at. If Murphy's entire body wasn't already tinged pink in so many places from the heat and exertion, he might have blushed noticeably under that reverent gaze.

Connor unexpectedly sat up, derailing Murphy's thoughts before Connor stole a kiss, a quick peck on the lips that was followed by Connor's fingers gently touching Murphy's lips, his chin, his mole and then Connor looked him dead in his eyes and whispered,

"I'd kill myself if I ever lost yeh'."

The words were so weighted, so out of the blue, that Murphy just stared at Connor.

Connor apparently had more to say,

"If yeh' died during an execution, if yeh' died in prison, if yeh' died on death row, in a car accident…fuck me Murphy," Connor pushed himself up on his elbow and his voice became shaken with emotion, "if yeh' died peacefully in yer' sleep from an aneurism or something…" he shook his head, "et' wouldn't matter…because I can't live without yeh'."

Murphy's eyes had widened at the confession and he continued to stare at his twin, somewhat stunned by the onslaught of truths and love and Connor's deepest fears and feelings.

Was this why Connor had wanted to take a break? Because these fears lived within him, such awful feelings, such a deep fear of loss.

And Connor had been keeping it to himself for so long, suppressing it in his subconscious so well that Murphy hadn't been able to pick up on it properly. Murphy frowned, wanting to be angry about it, but those fears were now out in the open. Connor was letting Murphy in, Connor was allowing Murphy to see what kept him up most nights, what made his moods so edgy and temperamental, what made his kisses so desperate…

And Jesus Christ, it was so hollow and cold inside those fears, Murphy could feel it now.

No wonder Connor hardly slept well recently, the worse and more dangerous things had become in their daily lives, the more the noise in Connor's head would keep Murphy awake at night.

Fear. So much fear.

Murphy swallowed thickly, his cigarette forgotten as he blinked his eyes only because they burned,

"Conn…" he breathed out before leaning in and kissing Connor firmly on his mouth, both of their eyes open and as Murphy slowly drew back, he kept steady eye contact and said the only thing he could think of to say that was comforting, "…we're safe here, an' we don't ever have te' go back to et', not unless yeh' ever want to." Murphy took in a breath as Connor frowned, expression somewhere between relief and disbelief, "Not unless we absolutely have te', Connor, not unless God himself wants us te'…and even then…" he implored Connor's trust with a serious, sincere look, "…yer' more important te' me than all that, than anything." Murphy sniffed, his voice tight with emotion.

Murphy felt his throat close up as Connor searched his eyes, his breathing becoming strained as both of their significant feelings right then washed over him. But slowly Connor's disbelieving feeling eased into a deep reverence that made Murphy feel unworthy of such devotion and adoration. Connor's expression also eased into relief, mixed in with amazement, complete and utter commitment, praise and most importantly, love.

Murphy managed a small smile revealing just a sliver of teeth, because despite the strange elated, weightlessness in his stomach and the seriousness in the torrent of emotions between them, he wanted to see Connor smile too,

"None of et' means shit," he smiled a little wider, pointing his half burned cigarette at Connor, "if I aint' got you, babe." He said intentionally sappy, intentionally cheesy and playful but completely honest and Connor would just know he meant it.

Connor's serious expression slipped away, becoming a broad, genuine smile and his laugh was deep and honest, but not mocking, it was fond and affectionate and it filled the room and warmed Murphy's chest. And then Connor leaned in and kissed Murphy with that infectious smile, his cigarette hand carefully pulling Murphy into the kiss by the back of his head.

Murphy smiled too, their teeth knocking together once since neither could stop smiling right away.

When they finally did, they put their wasted cigarettes out before Connor retrieved Murphy's pillow, they covered themselves with the blanket and then they lay there, facing each other for a long time, sometimes looking at each other, sometimes not, until they both started to feel sleepy.

The beds were narrow so they had to lie close and as their eyes drifted closed and open and the lamps in the room started to burn lower, Connor spoke,

"Yeh' feel like sleeping in the same bed?"

They mostly didn't.

Murphy sighed sleepily, he could feel every breath of Connor's on his face and it was comforting, so his answer was yes, still, he teased with a sleepy smirk and a raised eyebrow,

"Well, yer' in my bed, so if yeh' don't feel like et', then get yer' arse moving." He said quietly.

Connor smiled,

"Rude bastard…" he mumbled back.

Murphy kept smiling and he felt the urge to touch his twin, so he raised his hand and laid it on the side of Connor's neck,

"He won't be back fer' another two days." It was an indirect invitation for Connor to sleep beside him, that night and the next.

"Aye, s'true." Connor's eyes slid closed, his eyebrows rising briefly, he smiled softly as he sighed and Murphy watched him closely...

…Connor didn't see the stupid, loving smile that stole across Murphy's face.

He'd be asleep in minutes anyway, so Murphy quietly enjoyed watching Connor drift off, listening as the noise that had been present so often in their connection dull down to a flat hum of contentment.

Murphy memorized his twin's face better than he already knew it as he lay there and without knowing – or caring- if Connor was asleep yet, Murphy made a confession of his own,

"I already knew I couldn't live without yeh' when we were just boys, Conn…" Murphy licked his bottom lip absently, "…when we were seven and yeh' got chicken pox, an' Ma made me go and stay over with aunt Abbie so I didn't catch et' from yeh'." Murphy sighed after the quietly whispered words, only audible between them in that close proximity, "Ma told me you were really sick, as if that would make me want te' stay away from yeh', but I told Ma I didn't care, insisted I wanted te' go home te' yeh'. But she said no, because she didn't want me catching et' if she could help et'." Murphy snorted, "I was worried sick that I wouldn't get te' see yeh' again, I fuckin' cried every day, cried that I wanted te' go home te' yeh'. I was afraid you'd die, even though aunt Abbie told me I was bein' fuckin' schupid an' that yeh' weren't going te' die." Murphy laughed quietly to himself, feeling silly as he looked over Connor's handsome, relaxed face, "Et' made me feel trapped an' scared, thinkin' yeh' might die an' that I'd be left behind…I didn't want te' be left behind." He mumbled quietly.

Murphy paused for a few seconds as he remembered the feelings of that scared, desperate little boy,

"I knew from then…that there was no livin' without yeh'. S'why I didn't talk to yeh' when I came home, I thought yeh'd call me schupid if yeh' knew how I felt, tell me I was being a baby…" he trailed off, smiling to himself.

Murphy was about to close his eyes when Connor smiled at him, he didn't open his eyes, but he smiled,

"…all that…an' yeh' still got the fuckin' chicken pox." He mumbled.

Murphy smiled again and when Connor's hand found his under the covers, he interlocked their fingers, rested their linked hands between their chests and Murphy closed his eyes,

"Aye, I still got the fuckin' chicken pox."

They fell asleep smiling, to the sound of the rain falling over their little piece of heaven in Ireland.

 We might make love in some sacred place...
....and the look on your face is delicate.