A Bad Dream- BDS fic.

[papyrus4sirus]

Title: A bad dream

Author: Krystal (papyrus4sirus )

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Bad dreams can lead to better things.

Pairing: Connor/Murphy

Warnings: Twincest, swearing. (Aren’t these a given?)

Word count: 3,219

Disclaimer:  Mr. Duffy has all the rights while I have none, and completely without permission, this tale I have spun.

Murphy is twitching in his sleep, seemingly afraid of something. His breathing is irregular and his brows furrow in his slumber.

When Murphy’s eyes flash open from the fright they were just witness too, Connor is laying on his side, staring intently at him from across the other bed. Murphy harshly rolls onto his back, away from those eyes and closes his own, “Christ, Connor.” He says breathless, rubbing the palms of his hands over his eyes, trying to remove the dreams image.

“Ya alright, Murph?” Connor doesn’t move, but continues to stare, wondering what sort of nightmare Murphy was having. Before Murphy even realizes what he’s doing, he’s climbing out of bed and reaching for the nearest pack of cigarettes.

“M’ fine Connor, just need a smoke.” And he’s out the door in an instant with just his boxers, two cancer sticks and the image of his dead brother lingering over him.

Murphy tries to calm his nerves, taking expertly long drags on his cigarette before exhaling slowly; but neither the nicotine nor the cold night air improve his shaking. He hated that dreams could do this to him: reduce him to helpless pieces. No matter the fact that it was just a dream and Connor was alive in his bed, Murphy kept feeling anxious. It would clear eventually and it wouldn’t bother him as much; but every time he had an unpleasant dream, the sensations remained with him, either through the whole day or until he could fall back to sleep.

He’d had dreams in the past in which Connor had been killed, but this one was more realistic then the others. He watched as his brother fell to the ground, bullet wounds enveloping his body, and the life draining from his eyes. Those eyes, that turned blank in his dream, he met with upon waking. While he should have been glad that Connors living pupils were there watching him, it unfortunately made the dream that much more terrifying.

He finished his first smoke and lit his second, willing himself to observe the peacefulness of the sleeping neighborhood. He tried to count the number of smoke rings he could make, but the image was still thick with him, and the smoke rings and the neighborhood couldn’t distract him no matter how he tried. If only it were early enough for the promise of a sun rise he might feel less disconcerted, but it was night and he would have to sleep again and Connor was back inside. He wished he could just hold tightly onto his brother, feel his pulse beating against his and know that everything would be alright. That would be childish though and in his process for reassurance he might lose sight of the fact that Connor could only ever be a brother to him. He might show how desperate he was. Might tell him how much more he had always needed from him. These thoughts ruptured when a voice startled him.

“It’s freezin out here.”

Murphy turned hastily, dropping his cigarette as a result.

Connor had his arms wrapped around himself and he looked Murphy up and down, brows knitted together, “donchya want yer robe, Murph?”

Before Murphy could acknowledge the question, Connor continued, “I’ll get it, an a few more smokes as well.” Next he was disappearing through the door.

Murphy took a deep steadying breath. He wasn’t sure he wanted Connor out here with him, especially when the mere sight of him had Murphy close to tears for all the things he could not help.

Connor was back in no time, handing over a shabby robe. Murphy pulled it on and the two brothers leaned against the railing, Murphy trying to collect himself while Connor lit two smokes, eventually handing one over. Murphy took it gratefully and continued the deep long assault on his lungs with the nicotine that would surely kick in soon. They stood in silence, both meditating on the night before them. Murphy was feeling slightly better with Connor near him, their silent closeness was a comfort like he hadn’t expected. After they both finished their second smoke, Connor said, “We’ve had our cigarettes now let’s go in.”

Murphy shook his head, “I want another one.”

“Smoke the whole fuckin pack why donchya?” Connor teased.

“Maybe I will.” Murphy said testily, snatching the smokes from his brothers’ hand. Connor playfully biffed the back of his brothers’ head before moving away from the railing to lean against the wall. Connor watched Murphy’s profile as he puffed on his cigarette staring out at the night, and he noticed a very faint tremor in his brothers’ body.

“Now what was it Ma use to do fer us when we had bad dreams?” Connor asked in mock confusion.

Murphy snorted his amusement, “She’d make us cocoa.” He replied, his body still hunched over the railing.

“Aye that was it…well, we haven’t any cocoa but there’s some beer which I’m sure would make ya feel loads better.”

Murphy flicked absently at his cigarette, the ash gently falling away, “Alright,” he conceded, turning to his brother, “let’s have some beer.”

Connor smiled and clasped his arm around Murphy’s shoulder chuckling to himself, “ya lush.”

Once back in their apartment Murphy trailed his way to the small table that was littered with old bottles and garbage. Connor opened the fridge and brought out two beers, placing them on the table. Quickly Murphy reached for his and cracking it open chugged the liquid completely.

“Christ Murph,” Connor said still standing, “I haven’t even opened mine… what the hell didja dream?”

Murphy fidgeted in his seat, focusing his attention on the empty bottle in his hand, “I dreamt ya died.” The admission was painful for Murphy. Connor finally sat down opposite his brother and opened his own beer.

“But I thought ya had dreams of me dyin before?” Connor asked softly. Murphy looked up at Connor meeting his eyes for a brief second before returning his gaze to the bottle he wished was full again.

“…yeah,” he said, “but this one was more real.”

Connor watched as Murphy moved the bottle around in his hand, his eyes not daring to look up at his brother; it brought a small smile to Connors face.

“Ah,” He finally said, “well, I’m alive an well, Murph.” It didn’t need to be said, but Connor wanted to voice it.

Murphy quietly nodded his head. Connor didn’t like seeing Murphy like this, and he doubted his brother liked being seen in this current state. He wasn’t sure what else he could do for him; nothing could take the edge off a dream except for thinking about something else, and that was rarely easy.

“Come on Murph, let’s watch some t.v.” Connor stood from the table and walked a few paces to their ratty sofa. Murphy followed suit and plopped down on Connor’s right. Murphy was feeling more tired now that he was settled into a more comfortable position, which, coupled with his brothers’ attempts to take his mind off things, was putting him better at ease. There was mostly only garbage on at an hour this late, or perhaps it was very early. Murphy had never actually looked at the time but could sense that he had awoken in the midst of the night; the poor television programs helped only to confirm this. After Connor had sufficiently Channel surfed, they came across a movie that seemed decent enough. Murphy tucked his legs up onto the sofa and tried to cover as much of himself with his robe to shelter out the cold; Connor did the same.

A half hour passed with the twins in silence and only the TV made noise. Connor looked over to see Murphy had fallen asleep bundled up in his robe. Connor was relieved and smiled again seeing his brother so sweet looking. It was as if he had transformed back to the time when they were little kids, but Murphy was very clearly an adult with legitimate adult worries. He did not pass judgment on his brother for being so shaken up by a bad dream for Connor too, had dreamt one too many times of losing Murphy. He was familiar with the knowledge that despite having confirmation that his brother was alive and okay, the fear stayed with you. Connor stood slowly from the sofa, gently placing a hand on Murphy’s head before retiring to his bed. “Night, Murph.” He whispered.

~~~~~~~~

The next morning Murphy awoke on the sofa with none of the previous night’s trepidations. He stretched lazily before Connors voice called out, “good morning, sleepin beauty.” Murphy made a disgruntled face at Connor who was sitting at the table watching him.

“How long did I sleep fer?” Murphy was curious, but also curious as to how long Connor had been watching him.

“Awhile… It’s almost noon but I didn’t want to wake ya. I picked up some doughnuts fer us.”

Murphy smiled and headed to the table to snag a few. After he munched them down he declared he was going to take a shower, Connor acknowledged this then turned his attention to the newspaper that lay folded on the table. He had bought it as a distraction, but hadn’t looked at it once; instead he had spent the better part of the morning thinking on Murphy’s vulnerability from that night. Murphy had been genuinely shaken up by the thought of Connor being dead. Was there more to it than just the fear of losing a loved one? Connor had a suspicion that there might be more then basic fraternal love involved; or was he seeing something that he only hoped was there? The latter seemed more likely. Connor had always loved his brother, but was very aware that as the years progressed his affections did too: into something altogether unholy. He didn’t even like to think about it. He pushed it from his mind as if it were non-sense. Yet it was always there, eating away at him; a silent demon. Wasn’t he always looking for a sign, whether consciously or unconsciously, that Murphy might have deeper feelings for him? It was self-indulgent, but there it was. So the night’s events shouldn’t have him reeling with curious ideas… but they did and this time he decided he would push it further; how he didn’t know, and he hated himself for letting these thoughts take him for what was surely a hopeless ride. Whatever the outcome, he hoped only he would be hurt in the process.

When the water from the shower ceased running, Connor was snapped back to the present. Murphy’s footsteps approached and Connor stood from his chair, turning to meet his brother. He tried to ignore the thin towel wrapped at Murphy’s waist or the way Murphy looked at him with curiosity.

“I wanted to ask ya about yer dream.” Connor said.

“…mkay.” Automatically Murphy brought his thumb to his mouth to chew at the skin, and berated himself for his nervous tick.

“Why did it upset ya so much?” Connor inquired softly.

Murphy stopped chewing at his skin and shrugged, “because you’re my brother and I don’t wanna lose ya.”

“But why did it get to ya so much.” Connor pushed on, altogether forgetting to speak softly.

“Because ya were fuckin dead!” the incredulity on Murphy’s face was utterly startling.

This wasn’t working at all.

“I know, alright, but…is there somethin else…somethin more to it besides just me bein yer brother?” Connor silently kicked himself for being so bold.

“The fuck are ya talkin about? yer my brother an if I lost ya it would kill me!”

“it would kill me too, if I lost ya. But…” Connor trailed off, suddenly fearful of what he might say. This was hopeless, it was always Connors own warped thoughts; Murphy had no part in this depravity.

“’but’ what, Connor?” Murphy sounded furious. That was probably a really poor way for Connor to end his last sentiment. He had to rectify it.

“But…” Connor began softly, yet firmly, “there are deeper reasons why it would kill me, Murph. Things ya don’t understand an it’s probably best that way.”

“Christ, Connor. What are ya tryin to say?” Murphy asked bewildered.

A voice in Connors head said ‘No.’

“Nothin, I don’t know what I’m on about either. Sorry.” And he was walking away from his brother, feeling defeated and otherwise proud for not ruining the bond he and Murphy shared, which could have easily just shattered. He returned to the table and began looking at his newspaper again. Murphy remained rooted to the spot, utterly confused by his brothers’ behavior. Something was amiss.

“…Connor?” Murphy asked timidly.

“Yeah?” Connor replied, not looking his way and trying his damndest to appear indifferent.

“Tell me what ya were gonna say.” It was imperative that Murphy know, a giddy sort of blind hope was swelling inside him, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Don’t make me, Murph.”

“Just fuckin tell me!”

Connor abruptly let go of the paper and in no time stood before Murphy with only an inch between their faces, but Murphy stood his ground. Connor brought his hands up to cradle his brothers’ face. Murphy stiffened under the touch, growing increasingly light-headed. Murphy’s breathing was just as unsteady as the night of the dream and he needed Connor to hurry up and say something before his resolve collapsed.

Connor searched Murphy’s face needing to see confirmation, but all he saw was a frantic sort of look in his brother’s eyes and the reemergence of a faint tremor. Connor ignored the protesting in his head and let his limbs move of their own accord. Connor slid his left hand through his brothers’ dark mane and cupped the back of Murphy’s head, massaging it slightly. He laid his forehead against Murphy’s and held them there together. When the courage came swift and steadfast, the hand at the back of Murphy’s head forcefully brought their lips as one. Murphy could not move, could not think. The attack on his mouth by his own brother had left him immobile. As Connors tongue grew more insistent, Murphy finally willed himself to respond to the kiss, which was met with a muffled whimper from Connor. The affirmation which had been so longingly sought by each twin was shared in their mouths like a whisper of great things to be, of acceptance and of love.

Murphy was overwhelmed and pulled his lips from his brothers, but still held onto him desperately. He nuzzled his face in Connors’ neck and felt his eyes water.

“I’ve wanted ya fer so long.” Murphy confessed, feeling a relief like no other. His wait was over, they were together now and ‘grateful’ wasn’t a strong enough word to express how he felt.

“I know Murph, I’ve felt the same way fer too long,” He squeezed Murphy harder against himself. They clung to each other, neither speaking, but silently conversing through their embrace everything that made this moment potent.

Murphy leaned back slightly and placed his hands on his brothers’ chest, while their eyes searched one another’s.

“Take me Connor,” he pleaded, his blue eyes mirroring the plea, “I need ya… I need what we’ve never had.”  Connor felt his heart melt and he knew nothing could ever be as beautiful as Murphy was.

Connor nodded and pulled his brother with him towards his bed. Connor sat down and Murphy stood before him, not sure how this would play out or where to move next. Connor’s lust was heady and demanding: it took control. The towel that was wrapped round his brothers’ lower half, Connor discarded of roughly, startling Murphy into a pleasant pink flush of embarrassment. The swell of Murphy’s erection was stunning and immediately Connor took him in his mouth, sucking greedily at what he had only ever dreamt of doing. Murphy whimpered aloud and held tightly onto his brothers’ shoulders for support. The heat and intensity of Connors mouth had Murphy seeing stars. He bucked his hips against the onslaught. The slurping noises were obscene but delicious and Murphy didn’t bother holding back but came intensely into his brothers’ mouth; he felt Connor swallow every bit of his seed.

Connor stood up and looked at the shaky Murphy before him.

“Yer perfect Murphy.” And he kissed him softly on the lips while holding Murphy’s upper arms tightly. Breaking the kiss but maintaining his grasp, Connor steered Murphy around and made him recline on the bed. Connor shed his clothing swiftly while Murphy watched with hungry eyes. When he was nude and baring his erection, Murphy moved to take him in his mouth. Connor, however, only let Murphy’s mouth caress him for a bit before pulling Murphy’s head back gently. He cradled his brothers chin in his hand, “that’ll be enough fer me to enter ya properly…now lye back so I can prepare ya.”

A Flicker of unease danced in Murphy’s eyes, but was quickly extinguished as he lay back on the bed, spreading his legs. Connor wasted no time in hoisting himself on the bed, slicking his fingers with spit.

The thrill of lying completely open to his brother had Murphy dizzy with lust. He felt needy and called Connors name softly. The response was a firm digit probing at his entrance. As the finger met passage Murphy moaned despite the intrusion. More fingers were added and Murphy was absolutely sweating with fevered desire. Connor was mesmerized with the feel of Murphy closed around his fingers and the sight of infallible need on his brothers’ face left him breathless. He ceased his preparations and pulled Murphy’s hips to meet his own. Connor hesitated for a moment and only when Murphy whined, “do it” Did he push in, moving slowly inch by inch until the void was filled entirely.

“Ya alright.” Connor asked leaning his forehead to rest on Murphy’s.

“Yes.” Murphy replied through clenched teeth. The pain was impressive, but the desire was equally that.

Connor supplied a chaste kiss to his brothers’ mouth before beginning his maddeningly slow pace. Connor planted his palms on either side of Murphy’s head and rocked his hips against his brothers. Murphy held onto Connors sides hoping the pain would ease, and just as he thought it was too much to handle a feeling of intense gratification seized him. Murphy’s mouth opened wide and his brows furrowed as Connor sought to hit the pleasure spot again and again. Connor was near the edge, he lowered his body closer to Murphy’s to kiss the parted lips. Murphy’s nerves were overloading but he grabbed at his own erection and assaulted his weeping cock as Connors thrusts grew fiercer. Connor came with great force deep in the recesses of his brothers’ body just as Murphy released himself onto his hand and over their stomachs. They became a crumpled sticky mess and Connor had barely the strength to roll off of Murphy who was sated and dazed.

They laid together until the panting turned into normal breaths and both could think clearly.

“Do ya think yer dreams will be more pleasant tonight?” Connor asked the smile evident in his tone.

Murphy chuckled and bit at his brothers’ shoulder, “Tonight, an every night after.”