Nicholas: Yeah, I wrote a Valentine's Day fic, even though it's quite a bit before Valentine's Day. I was writing random stuff--as I'm known to do--and this actually turned out relatively acceptable, so I just thought, maybe those people on FanFiction with like it. Here it is. I like how it starts...it makes me feel all warm and cuddly in my black heart.
Disclaimer: It stings to have to rub it in that I don't own the Boondock Saints, every time I write a fic...like lemon juice..."when life gives you lemons...read them and drool!"--AmandaNut
Rating: M...SLASH/INCEST!!!...language...all-over-damned-cuteness that's just too good for kids.
Sometimes Murphy just can't help himself. Other times, he can and chooses not to. The subject of his lack of control—lack of care to control—is Connor. Well…actually it's more or less Connor's mouth, lips, chest, and various other things about his person. Sometimes Murphy would sit by while Connor showered and simply watch him. Sometimes, he would try to sit by while Connor showered and simply watch him, but that fails most of the time…all the time…every time. There is hardly a thing on earth that Murphy loves more than hearing Connor scream in ecstasy beneath him. Maybe cigarettes come close, but Murphy knows that Connor surpasses all (except beer!).
Connor often fell asleep before Murphy and Murphy took advantage of that to stare. He loved that Connor slept in boxers—even though that was just uniform pajamas that they had unintentionally adopted. The bad thing about falling asleep after Connor was that he also woke up after Connor. Murphy once caught Connor staring at him. Was he worth staring at as much as Connor was?
"G'mornin'," Connor said, as if it was a suitable excuse to get away with the staring that Murphy usually did so well to hide. No way was Connor going to be let off that easily when Murphy actually had to work to be inconspicuous.
"Yep," Murphy replied turning away from Connor and pretending to fall asleep again. He heard Connor move around behind him and suddenly felt the side of his bed sink. Connor was craning his neck to try and look at Murphy's face. Murphy kept his eyes closed.
"It's Valentine's Day." How adorably cute he just sounded! Murphy kept his eyes closed and continued to fake unconsciousness. "Muuuuuurphyyyy…" Connor cooed in his ear.
When Murphy didn't reply, Connor just pouted and shrugged. He stood and walked absently around the bed to get a better look at Murphy's face. He just barely noticed Murphy's eyelid twitch, proving that his brother was awake. Connor smirked lightly and went to take a piss, a plan forming in his mind. Playing along, he went around and did his usual morning business pretending that Murphy was still asleep. He drank his beer and smoked a cigarette.
He shamelessly stripped of his boxers—where he was sure that Murphy could see—and turned on the shower. Praise the lord for little miracles! There was hot water! Connor sneaked a glance back at Murphy and saw that his eyes were once more open. With a smile, he stepped into the stream of warm water and wet his hair quickly.
Murphy knew what Connor was doing. He'd seen it before and it only pissed him off more now. There came times when Murphy really hated the fact that Connor was just so damned beautiful. This time, though, Murphy promised himself he wouldn't get up—no matter how much he wanted to just tackle his brother to the floor of that shower and have him.
Connor's back was to his brother as he ran his fingers through his wet hair. Murphy involuntarily adjusted his position to see Connor better. Soapy water splashed over his back and Murphy fought back the urge to stand. Connor knew it was working. Without looking, he knew, and he relished in the knowledge. He may have been subordinate when it came to sex, but he always managed control his brother one way or the other. Murphy liked to pretend he had his way, but they both knew better.
After a while of Connor just washing himself as he usually did—except making it seem a bit more sensual for Murphy—he heard Murphy get out of bed. He pretended not to notice. He even pretended that he didn't feel Murphy's hands slid up his wet back. Suddenly, Murphy pushed Connor against the wall and held him there, gripping his brother's wrists. Connor could feel Murphy's mouth on his neck—then Murphy's tongue, then Murphy's teeth.
"Ow! Murphy, that fuckin' hurts," Connor felt Murphy's nails dig into his wrist. Murphy ignored him for a moment and bit Connor's neck hard as he held him from behind. Connor forced back a yelp in pain.
Murphy spun him around stiffly. "Fuckin'-A right, it hurts," he stated quietly—mocking anger—as he pushed Connor's arms above his head. He had forfeited his boxers and Connor couldn't help but let his eyes travel. Murphy gripped Connor's jaw firmly and pushed his head up, forbidding him to look. "Ya want a happy fuckin' Valentine's Day?"
When Murphy kissed him roughly, Connor whined into it, feeling Murphy's nails once more digging into his skin. He let his arms fall to Murphy's shoulders and gripped his brother's hair tightly.
---
Connor often won this game they played. He put on a victorious smile as he sat in Murphy's lap, on the tile floor of the shower while the luke warm water poured down on their heads like a waterfall. Murphy hated that smile as much as he loved it. The smile was just another thing that made him want to hold Connor tight and never let go, but it was also the only proof that he'd lost yet again.
"Love ya, Murph," Connor muttered quietly. When Murphy just grunted in reply: "Don' be a fuckin' poor sport."
"Cheater," the dark-haired brother stated.
"Aye, well…ya know ya love me."
"Yeah, happy fuckin' Valentine's Day," Murphy grumbled unhappily.