Pay the Dearest Cost (11/12)
Title: Pay the Dearest Cost ( 11/12 )
Authors: empathicfrost (Frost) and theonemonaghan (Kacey)
Pairing: Con/Mur
Ratings: ***over-all series NC-17, for sex, sexual abuse, drug usage, language, violence and of course, the Twincest <3 ***
Disclaimer: not ours, except the JP reincarnate.
Summary: post-movie. Connor and Murph might be fugitives now, but they have each other. But someone wants more than revenge.
A/N: a long bloody series.
This chapter dedicated to juniper_nyne. <3 we love you!
Previous Chapters: Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four , Part Five , Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten
Chapter 11:
Chapter Eleven: Deliver us from Evil
Smecker had followed Murphy when he went away with Paolo just the day before. Just in case things went wrong, Smecker would know where to look.
Things had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.
And despite the resolution of the problem, things were still wrong. The drive back to his own home was not a long one, yet it had seemed like an eternity. Connor and Murphy were in the back seat, both pained beyond belief, but Smecker was sure only one noticed it.
Murphy had been drugged something awful. Smecker couldn't quite identify the drug either--he dared to think of it as a date rape mixture. It must have been recently administered however, because it wasn't wearing off. Instead, the boy was writhing in the back seat, begging and pleading to be touched. To be fucked.
Smecker worried. But Connor stayed with Murphy, letting his twin writhe in his lap, even though he was so injured. He'd yet to say anything.
And so Smecker worried more.
Now they were in his driveway--and Paul was quickly getting out of the car and moving around to the back. It would take more than a little effort to get into the house safely. Murphy wasn't even able to think enough to get his damned feet on the ground.
And so Smecker was pulling the coat he'd thrown over Murphy's shoulders earlier closer around the boy, and doing his best to get him from the car.
Connor aided Smecker in maneuvering Murphy out of the back seat, but almost all the energy he had had been spent trying to hold on to his brother during the ride, trying to keep him from bucking and twisting and hurting himself. Murphy had pressed into Connor's fractured rib several times on the trip, and now it seared with the effort to breathe.
Yet, Connor walked, slowly and uneven - but kept upright, aiming Murphy toward the agent's front door. He didn’t know that Murphy was being loud enough with his moaning and crooning to wake the whole city but he noticed that Smecker's neighbors had houses separate far from the agent’s house and was grateful for it.
Inside, Connor hooked his arm around his brother's waist and it might have been too much for his strength, because he leaned heavily against the wall and left behind a smear of blood. He gestured toward the first room that he could see, as though Smecker didn’t already know that they needed to lay down. To really -- for the first time in days -- lay down.
Smecker was anything but a stupid man, and was already aware there was something terribly off with Connor's hearing. So instead of speaking, he just gave a nod, and then took on the full weight of Murphy. Smecker let the moaning and pleading man lean into him--and tried his hardest to ignore Murph when he began running his hands over his chest and waist.
They were going to have to do something about this.
Finally, however, they ended up in the guest room, and Smecker was setting Murphy down onto the bed (to which he was mainly unresponsive) and then standing up to make sure Connor was doing all right.
To tend to the wounds, Murphy would have to be held immobile--and as much as Paul hated to think on it, the only thing he could think of to do this, would be to tie him to the head board.
Connor already knew that binding Murphy to the bed was going to be necessary. He had known it in the car when every move Murphy made opened one of Murphy’s own wound and Connor's shirt was stained in his brother’s blood just trying to calm him. If they didn’t restrain Murphy, he was just going to keep hurting himself.
He refused to use handcuffs or tape - they needed something that wouldn’t rip anymore damage into the drugged man's skin, but would only keep him still.
Ties. Connor wearily touched his throat, made a pulling signal down the front of his chest like he was straightening a tie. They had enough money to buy Smecker twenty ties next Christmas to make up for ruining four.
Connor waited with Murphy while the agent went to get them. One palm flat on his brother's panting, over heated stomach, the other was on Murphy's forehead, pushing his head back into the pillows to keep him from twisting his neck back and forth anymore. Connor choked at the sight of his brother's gasping, broken lips and didn’t want to see the words that were forming. Shhh.
Smecker returned with the ties (his collection was vast, and they would not be missed), but lingered at the edge of the bed for a short moment, sadly watching the two brothers before him.
Now was not the time to make judgments about their situation however, and so Smecker handed Connor two of the ties, and then went to work tying the other two about Murphy's feet.
Murphy let out a small noise of discontent, and mewled his frustrations. It was as if the situation he was in was not at all apparent to him. Tomorrow, he would wake up and wonder what exactly had happened, that he was in a bed, and not being assailed by a very crazy member of the Italian mob. Tonight, however he was panting and pleading for the touches that would make the need go away.
Those touches weren't coming, however. Instead, he was being restrained, and although blue eyes saw his brother, his mind didn't register this fact. He wiggled uselessly now due to the bindings, and found that he was near tears in his own nonfulfillment.
Smecker was leaving the room again, going to prepare warm water, bandages and other wound cleaning supplies. It was going to be a long night.
------
Connor was clean now. Or at least, he assumed he was mostly clean. After all, he hadn’t gotten up to check a mirror or anything. He was satisfied with just scrubbing the blood from his face with one of the washcloths Paul had brought them - he wanted to focus on more important things. Murphy.
Connor had to be careful of his own cheek and jaw, swollen and laced with cuts, when he cleaned his face. And it was the exact same reason he had to be careful when cleaning his brother's face. He'd spent the last two hours wiping away the blood from Murphy's cheeks, forehead and neck. There were scrapes from Paolo's rings like jagged burn marks over Murphy's skin. Connor wished he had been the one to pull the trigger that put that first bullet in Paolo’s head.
And despite every one of his religious beliefs that told him God had saved them from evil - it was Paul Smecker who had rescued the twins. But Connor hadn’t thanked the agent. Connor wouldn’t even know what words to use. The thought of speaking when all he could hear was a loud, numbing and never ending buzz that filled his skull was a terrifying thought.
So he focused solely on moving to keep himself awake. He was still in the process of cleaning the nude Murphy and running cold cloths over Murphy's skin to quiet down the aching twitch that possessed his brother. But as it went on and on and never ceased - Connor let the exhausted tears free from his eyes to dampen cheeks that were molted in different colors. Paolo's drugs were killing Murphy. If the effects didn’t wane soon, the strain it put on his brother's body was going to break it down and Murphy's body might just give up.
I promised I wouldn’t leave you. You didn’t promise, Murph. You didn’t.
------
Paul Smecker had run out of fuel somewhere into the night, and found himself sitting on the couch in his living room, his head bent back against the headrest of the couch. He stared up at the ceiling and dazed. Connor, although hurt, felt highly responsible for the state his brother was in, and so was doing a good amount of the work himself and allowing Paul to do no more.
Smecker had decided to leave the two alone for the time being--but if things got any worse, he feared they would actually have to go to the hospital. Smecker wouldn't allow either of these boys to die, not now--not after what they'd been through. But for now he'd just wait and hope for the best.
------
Murphy was too exhausted to attempt to writhe anymore and so instead, he lay mostly still in that hot bed, body twitching as if it still had a mind of its own. Mouth was half parted, but he no longer made any noises--his throat was completely raw now, and it hurt to even think of swallowing.
The drugged twin couldn't seem to decide if he wanted to stay awake or fall into unconsciousness. That desperate need was still there. Or just the feeling of it, anyway, and it made him want to die.
Eyes which had been between fluttering opened and closed for the past hour or so finally gave up and closed all the way, as his body decided to give up for the moment.
Murphy fell into an unconscious black, and then everything seemed better.
Relief and weakness collapsed Connor toward sleep soon after. He wanted to rid those binds from his brother's wrists and ankles, but fear of Murphy hurting himself kept Connor's hand back. His eyes were stinging to close and his arms, hands and ribs were all throbbing dully from painkillers. The temporary numbness would grant him enough reprieves to sleep for a few hours at the least.
He slumped down into the bed with little more than sharp gasp when he leant on his sliced and torn arm. The carving that Paolo had done into his tattoo with the knife was far from healed enough to allow Connor to reach around Murphy's restrained body, so he tilted his unbruised cheek against Murphy's chest and concentrated on the rise and fall of it.
Connor was unsure whether either of them would wake… but for the moment, they were both still alive.
-------
tbc (so close to the end!)
------
Next Chapter: …and when he ran his tongue along them, he tasted blood. It didn't matter though. What mattered was that he was looking into Connor's eyes for the first time in what felt like forever.
Authors: empathicfrost (Frost) and theonemonaghan (Kacey)
Pairing: Con/Mur
Ratings: ***over-all series NC-17, for sex, sexual abuse, drug usage, language, violence and of course, the Twincest <3 ***
Disclaimer: not ours, except the JP reincarnate.
Summary: post-movie. Connor and Murph might be fugitives now, but they have each other. But someone wants more than revenge.
A/N: a long bloody series.
This chapter dedicated to juniper_nyne. <3 we love you!
Previous Chapters: Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four , Part Five , Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten
Chapter 11:
Chapter Eleven: Deliver us from Evil
Smecker had followed Murphy when he went away with Paolo just the day before. Just in case things went wrong, Smecker would know where to look.
Things had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.
And despite the resolution of the problem, things were still wrong. The drive back to his own home was not a long one, yet it had seemed like an eternity. Connor and Murphy were in the back seat, both pained beyond belief, but Smecker was sure only one noticed it.
Murphy had been drugged something awful. Smecker couldn't quite identify the drug either--he dared to think of it as a date rape mixture. It must have been recently administered however, because it wasn't wearing off. Instead, the boy was writhing in the back seat, begging and pleading to be touched. To be fucked.
Smecker worried. But Connor stayed with Murphy, letting his twin writhe in his lap, even though he was so injured. He'd yet to say anything.
And so Smecker worried more.
Now they were in his driveway--and Paul was quickly getting out of the car and moving around to the back. It would take more than a little effort to get into the house safely. Murphy wasn't even able to think enough to get his damned feet on the ground.
And so Smecker was pulling the coat he'd thrown over Murphy's shoulders earlier closer around the boy, and doing his best to get him from the car.
Connor aided Smecker in maneuvering Murphy out of the back seat, but almost all the energy he had had been spent trying to hold on to his brother during the ride, trying to keep him from bucking and twisting and hurting himself. Murphy had pressed into Connor's fractured rib several times on the trip, and now it seared with the effort to breathe.
Yet, Connor walked, slowly and uneven - but kept upright, aiming Murphy toward the agent's front door. He didn’t know that Murphy was being loud enough with his moaning and crooning to wake the whole city but he noticed that Smecker's neighbors had houses separate far from the agent’s house and was grateful for it.
Inside, Connor hooked his arm around his brother's waist and it might have been too much for his strength, because he leaned heavily against the wall and left behind a smear of blood. He gestured toward the first room that he could see, as though Smecker didn’t already know that they needed to lay down. To really -- for the first time in days -- lay down.
Smecker was anything but a stupid man, and was already aware there was something terribly off with Connor's hearing. So instead of speaking, he just gave a nod, and then took on the full weight of Murphy. Smecker let the moaning and pleading man lean into him--and tried his hardest to ignore Murph when he began running his hands over his chest and waist.
They were going to have to do something about this.
Finally, however, they ended up in the guest room, and Smecker was setting Murphy down onto the bed (to which he was mainly unresponsive) and then standing up to make sure Connor was doing all right.
To tend to the wounds, Murphy would have to be held immobile--and as much as Paul hated to think on it, the only thing he could think of to do this, would be to tie him to the head board.
Connor already knew that binding Murphy to the bed was going to be necessary. He had known it in the car when every move Murphy made opened one of Murphy’s own wound and Connor's shirt was stained in his brother’s blood just trying to calm him. If they didn’t restrain Murphy, he was just going to keep hurting himself.
He refused to use handcuffs or tape - they needed something that wouldn’t rip anymore damage into the drugged man's skin, but would only keep him still.
Ties. Connor wearily touched his throat, made a pulling signal down the front of his chest like he was straightening a tie. They had enough money to buy Smecker twenty ties next Christmas to make up for ruining four.
Connor waited with Murphy while the agent went to get them. One palm flat on his brother's panting, over heated stomach, the other was on Murphy's forehead, pushing his head back into the pillows to keep him from twisting his neck back and forth anymore. Connor choked at the sight of his brother's gasping, broken lips and didn’t want to see the words that were forming. Shhh.
Smecker returned with the ties (his collection was vast, and they would not be missed), but lingered at the edge of the bed for a short moment, sadly watching the two brothers before him.
Now was not the time to make judgments about their situation however, and so Smecker handed Connor two of the ties, and then went to work tying the other two about Murphy's feet.
Murphy let out a small noise of discontent, and mewled his frustrations. It was as if the situation he was in was not at all apparent to him. Tomorrow, he would wake up and wonder what exactly had happened, that he was in a bed, and not being assailed by a very crazy member of the Italian mob. Tonight, however he was panting and pleading for the touches that would make the need go away.
Those touches weren't coming, however. Instead, he was being restrained, and although blue eyes saw his brother, his mind didn't register this fact. He wiggled uselessly now due to the bindings, and found that he was near tears in his own nonfulfillment.
Smecker was leaving the room again, going to prepare warm water, bandages and other wound cleaning supplies. It was going to be a long night.
------
Connor was clean now. Or at least, he assumed he was mostly clean. After all, he hadn’t gotten up to check a mirror or anything. He was satisfied with just scrubbing the blood from his face with one of the washcloths Paul had brought them - he wanted to focus on more important things. Murphy.
Connor had to be careful of his own cheek and jaw, swollen and laced with cuts, when he cleaned his face. And it was the exact same reason he had to be careful when cleaning his brother's face. He'd spent the last two hours wiping away the blood from Murphy's cheeks, forehead and neck. There were scrapes from Paolo's rings like jagged burn marks over Murphy's skin. Connor wished he had been the one to pull the trigger that put that first bullet in Paolo’s head.
And despite every one of his religious beliefs that told him God had saved them from evil - it was Paul Smecker who had rescued the twins. But Connor hadn’t thanked the agent. Connor wouldn’t even know what words to use. The thought of speaking when all he could hear was a loud, numbing and never ending buzz that filled his skull was a terrifying thought.
So he focused solely on moving to keep himself awake. He was still in the process of cleaning the nude Murphy and running cold cloths over Murphy's skin to quiet down the aching twitch that possessed his brother. But as it went on and on and never ceased - Connor let the exhausted tears free from his eyes to dampen cheeks that were molted in different colors. Paolo's drugs were killing Murphy. If the effects didn’t wane soon, the strain it put on his brother's body was going to break it down and Murphy's body might just give up.
I promised I wouldn’t leave you. You didn’t promise, Murph. You didn’t.
------
Paul Smecker had run out of fuel somewhere into the night, and found himself sitting on the couch in his living room, his head bent back against the headrest of the couch. He stared up at the ceiling and dazed. Connor, although hurt, felt highly responsible for the state his brother was in, and so was doing a good amount of the work himself and allowing Paul to do no more.
Smecker had decided to leave the two alone for the time being--but if things got any worse, he feared they would actually have to go to the hospital. Smecker wouldn't allow either of these boys to die, not now--not after what they'd been through. But for now he'd just wait and hope for the best.
------
Murphy was too exhausted to attempt to writhe anymore and so instead, he lay mostly still in that hot bed, body twitching as if it still had a mind of its own. Mouth was half parted, but he no longer made any noises--his throat was completely raw now, and it hurt to even think of swallowing.
The drugged twin couldn't seem to decide if he wanted to stay awake or fall into unconsciousness. That desperate need was still there. Or just the feeling of it, anyway, and it made him want to die.
Eyes which had been between fluttering opened and closed for the past hour or so finally gave up and closed all the way, as his body decided to give up for the moment.
Murphy fell into an unconscious black, and then everything seemed better.
Relief and weakness collapsed Connor toward sleep soon after. He wanted to rid those binds from his brother's wrists and ankles, but fear of Murphy hurting himself kept Connor's hand back. His eyes were stinging to close and his arms, hands and ribs were all throbbing dully from painkillers. The temporary numbness would grant him enough reprieves to sleep for a few hours at the least.
He slumped down into the bed with little more than sharp gasp when he leant on his sliced and torn arm. The carving that Paolo had done into his tattoo with the knife was far from healed enough to allow Connor to reach around Murphy's restrained body, so he tilted his unbruised cheek against Murphy's chest and concentrated on the rise and fall of it.
Connor was unsure whether either of them would wake… but for the moment, they were both still alive.
-------
tbc (so close to the end!)
------
Next Chapter: …and when he ran his tongue along them, he tasted blood. It didn't matter though. What mattered was that he was looking into Connor's eyes for the first time in what felt like forever.