Look After Your Brother ch. 20/20
Title: Look After Your Brother ch 20
Author: LadyJanelly
Pairing: c/m
Rating: NC-17 ish.
Warnings: Slash, twincest, characters opinions do not reflect those of the writer.
Disclaimer: I own no Irish boys, nor do I make any money from the wicked thoughts they give me.
Feedback: Eaten like candy. Concrit me!
Notes: Special thanks and a Happy Birthday to 4bdnsn0wflake , for her hard work beta-reading and concritting this piece.
Chapter 20
Connor woke the next morning to the glide of his brother's hand along his side, over his chest, up to cup the side of his head in his warm palm. He opened his eyes to see the blue of Murphy's looking back at him.
Everything they needed to say was expressed with that glance and the touch of skin on skin.
There was something good about the slow way Murphy touched him, half-asleep and lazy. Connor was sore from the night before in places he'd never even associated with sex: the arches of his feet and the backs of his calves from pushing off of the floor so hard, his knuckles from Murphy trying to fuck his hand through the wall.
It was slow, nothing like a frantic alley-fuck. Horizontal, which he'd never done before, never even really pictured. Walls were hard. Chain-link fences scratched. This was soft, and new and right.
Murphy was strong and gentle and Connor wished nobody else had ever touched either of them.
Words seemed wrong, lying there with Murphy's hand wrapped around both of their cocks, holding them against each other as he stroked. Connor spoke his need in gasps and groans and sometimes little whimpers as Murphy's teeth grazed over his jaw.
Murphy kept up an unsteady stream of words, whether he was biting Connor at the time or not. Sacrilege and profanity ran together on his brother's lips, finally ended with a cry of "Connor, Connor, Connor," as he came.
Murphy held Connor's shivering body through the aftershocks of his pleasure, whispering of safety and loyalty.
When it was over, Murph used a corner of the sheet to clean them both up. If his motions were rough, Connor wasn't complaining.
Murphy wouldn’t speak as he turned away and lit them both a cigarette. He didn’t meet Connor's eye as he passed it over, and that didn’t feel right.
"Murph?" Connor sat up and reached out, resting his hand on his brother's shoulder. He half-expected him to pull away but he didn’t.
"I need ta get a test today," Murphy said without turning back to Connor.
Connor nodded, even if Murph couldn’t see it, and looked around for his pants. "That's fine then. Up for a bite when we're done?"
----
"Three weeks," the nurse told them after she took Murphy's blood.
They went to church instead of to lunch.
"Please," Connor prayed, holding his rosary so tight the beads left little dents in his palms. He didn’t dare express it clearer than that, but he knew what he was asking. Please don't let m brother be sick. Please give us a sign that our love is not a sin. Please let the test come back negative because I don't think I can serve a God who would turn His back on Murphy or try to force us apart.
He had never felt the attention of God resting so heavily on him before.
Later, when Murph's mouth was pulling him in, taking him deep, Connor looked down into his brother's eyes and saw perfect love looking back at him.
"Please..." Connor cried as he came--a prayer that this would be seen as more than lust or some twisted version of brotherhood. This was what they were made by Him to be.
Three weeks and they never left each other's side. The worked, they slept. They spent hours in church and said hundreds of Our Fathers.
Somehow the time they spent in bed together was just as sacred.
Connor had read about sex, about physical pleasures. Murph had been out doing in that time, and Jaysus, the things he had to teach. Still, despite the limits of his rough and haphazard experiences, Connor didn’t feel like he'd fallen behind. Murphy treated every new act like it was something new and wonderful.
Not a bit of it felt like work.
They touched, they loved. Connor found completion instead of empty release. They didn’t "fuck," not like that first time. Connor didn’t know if it was because of the wait for the test or if it just wasn’t Murphy's favorite thing. He was content to either wait until it was something Murphy talked about, or to do without it forever.
It was a Wednesday when they went back to get the results. Murph was strangely still as Connor stood behind his chair, hands on his shoulders. Connor felt calm too, listening as the doctor spoke. It had already been decided--a month, a year or over a decade ago. All that was left was for this messenger to deliver God's verdict, to let them know if it would be a gentle blessing or a declaration of war.
Connor didn’t hear anything past the words "came back negative." He doubted Murphy did either. The doctor was still speaking, something about coming back in six months, but it didn’t matter. They'd asked for a sign and it had been given to them.
Murph took Connor to church after. "Talk ta Him," he said, giving Connor a nudge towards the confessional.
Connor glanced back once at Murphy, watched as his brother took a seat on one of the front pews, his dark head lowering. Murph's hands were shaking. It was hard to turn away and go into confession, but it was what his brother had asked for, so Connor did it.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," he began, and then confessed every lie, every envious thought, every sin he could remember committing since his last confession. The words spilled from his lips and the burden of his wrong-doings left his shoulders.
He had not a single word to say about loving or touching Murphy. From his heart to the depths of his soul, Connor had no doubts that this union was sacred, sanctified, real.
His eyes were drawn to his twin's as he came out of the confessional. He wondered if he'd missed it before, or if Murph had hidden it better, but the fear was impossible to ignore now. It showed in the way Murphy was worrying his upper lip between his teeth; it waited to be read in the frown line between dark eyebrows, the whiteness of his knuckles.
It was as if he believed a priest's words could convince Connor to give him up.
Murphy stood as Connor walked to his side. He was strong; he'd take the blow on his feet, like a man.
Connor almost tackled him into a tight hug, thumping his back in a way that he hoped would pass for brotherly affection.
"It's fine, Murph," he whispered into his twin's ear. "Everything's fine. Let's go home, aye?"
Murphy nodded and let him move back a bit. They stepped out of the church together, and in the bright sunlight the distance between them made Connor's hand ache to join with Murphy's. He wondered if it would get easier or if one day he'd just say "fuck it," and touch him for all the world to see.
God's truth, he should have been thinking less and watching more. Murphy's attack was perfectly timed--a light kick to Connor's heel just as he completed a step. It only moved the placement of his foot a few inches, but it threw him off rhythm, making him stumble.
When Connor could walk and look at Murphy again, his brother was studying the store windows across the street and not paying Connor a bit of mind.
"That's how it's to be then?" Connor asked.
Murphy blinked at him in complete innocence. "What's that, Conn?"
Connor smirked and kept walking. He was ready for it when Murphy tried tagging his foot again and didn’t trip. When he turned, Murphy was watching the pigeons on the windowsills above the street.
A step, a bump, and Connor nudged Murphy enough that he shoulder-checked a signpost.
"Ow, ya great fucken bastard, that hurt!" But it couldn’t have been too bad. Murphy didn’t seem at all hampered by injury as he lunged at Connor. Connor, for his part, laughed and took off down the street, just a mite nervous where the natural escalation of things would take Murphy's retribution.
Murphy caught him half-way down the block, pinning him with his back to the wall. They laughed and tussled and hey, it might not have been sex, but it was touching Murphy, and Connor always counted that as a good thing.
Murphy grinned at him. "Hey Connor?"
"Aye?"
Something serious flickered behind Murphy's eyes. "I wanna fuck ya when we get home."
The words shivered through Connor's guts like good whiskey--warm and with a hint of a tingle. It was nothing he'd really fantasized about; it wasn't a desire he'd planned for or acknowledged. As soon as Murphy said it though, he knew.
"I'd like that," he said, and Murphy's smile lit up like Christmas.
Connor found himself walking faster than usual on the way home, but Murphy was going to fuck him when they got there and Jaysus, who wouldn’t hurry for that?