Why I stay with two of the most immature, oafish jackasses is something beyond my understanding. If they aren't getting in a fist fights over petty bullshit, they're probably scheming on how best to torment Rocco, me, and anyone else they hold dear. Except, of course, their Ma.

Even in their late-ish twenties, they're both still terrified of her.

Don't get me wrong; when they want to be sweet, sugar is bland in comparison. And that Irish charm…I wonder sometimes why more of my panties don't spontaneously combust in their presence. My boys can really have their knights-in-shining-armor, good-as-gold moments.

And then there are those exceptionally special times when they make it their mission in life to convince themselves (and everyone else) that their adolescence is never very far around the corner. They both have silver tongues when they choose, but God help us all when they use their powers for evil instead of good.

I've just spent the last hour enduring their divided attention. In any sane relationship in the world, this usually means putting up with someone not giving their full attention. In Connor and Murphy's case, this means they're tag-teaming me and Rocco to see who they can crack first.

Normally I handle these nights pretty well. They aren't exactly few and far between, but the boys don't mean anything by it. If we were actually all ten years old, they'd definitely be pulling pigtails and running away. It's just that I'm really not in the mood right now.

Rocco made the unfortunate mistake this evening of ogling the new waitress at the diner a little too obviously, thus providing the boys with fresh ammunition every time she comes around to refill our drinks. I, on the other hand, made the unfortunate mistake of spending the majority of the last year and a half in the company of these goons, so they already know all my weak spots.

Unfortunately (tonight), that means physical as well as sexual weak spots, so now I am both hot and severely bothered.

"Alright, I'm done," I announce tersely (and probably a little too loudly, if I'm being honest with myself), abruptly shoving Murphy over so I can slide from the booth. He and Connor flash brief, triumphant grins at each other across the table, but before either of them can say a word, I slap a ten on the table and turn to Rocco.

"I'm finished with these idiots for the night. Can you walk me home?"

He nods, not even trying to hide his gratefulness at the reprieve. He stands, tossing his own bills on the table, and shrugs on his overcoat. Connor looks startled and mutinous, and Murphy is already opening his mouth to argue, but I'm having no more of it t.

"I had a fairly good day at work, and that was partly because I was looking forward to spending time with all of my guys, as that hasn't happened in a while because of everyone's work schedules. But between the two of you fucking with Rocco and winding me tighter than a slinky on speed with all your cute comments and 'accidental' touches, I am more than ready to call it a night."

I glare at the two of them, daring them to interrupt me. "I meant what I said; I'm done. You two are supposed to be the best part of my day, not the worst. I'm tired, and I have a very long day at work tomorrow. If you know what's good for you, you will wait for me to call you first. I realize we have plans tomorrow night; I might – might – still join you, but only if I've cooled off enough by then. Do you understand? Don't call me, don't drop by, just give me tonight and tomorrow during the day to try and cool off, and maybe I'll see you tomorrow night. But don't push it."

"But—" Both of them have the grace to look slightly abashed, but I'm not in the mood to give any ground.

"Goodnight, Murphy. Goodnight, Connor. I love you both; please don't make me regret it."

I jerk my arms through my coat sleeves, leaving them silent and staring, and head to the door as Rocco shrugs a half-apology to them behind me. After about a block or so in the frigid night air, I sigh audibly, rolling my neck and shoulders, willing some of the tension out. Rocco glances at me, his expression concerned. Out of the corner of my eye I can see his mouth working for a minute before he decides to risk conversation.

"Somethin' botherin' you besides those two? Usually takes a lot more than that to get ya really pissed."

"I'm not pissed, not really. Just tired and really irritated. I didn't mean to put you in the middle of us; I'm sorry about that. I just didn't want to abandon you to them when I left. I really did have a pretty good day. I don't know why I'm in such a horrible mood; I guess I've been kind of edgy lately."

He considers this for a moment at we walk down the sidewalk. I turn my coat collar up against the wind, shivering against the cold. We walk in silence for another block or so before Rocco asks, "I thought things were going good for you three?"

"Oh, we're fine," I reply, shrugging. "I didn't mean to sound melodramatic back there or anything; they were just being annoying as fuck, and I seriously couldn't take another second of it. I guess…well, I tend to get cranky around the holidays. Christmas around the corner, and all that. Never really been my thing, you know?"

"So, you're more Grinchy than holly jolly?" Rocco grins, bumping me with his shoulder.

"I guess so," I admit. "There's nothing wrong with the idea of Christmas and all that holiday spirit jazz, but any sort of traditional family holiday type thing has always been especially lonely for me, and it got to the point where I just didn't really like them anymore. I guess old habits are hard to shake, but I see everybody getting together with family and loved ones and the like, and I get kind of down because I never had that."

We pause for a moment while I unlock the front door to my building. Rocco silently considers my statement as he walks me up the stairs and to my front door.

"Until now," he says abruptly.

I pause, halfway done unlocking the door.

"'Until now' what?" I ask, bewildered.

"You never had any family and loved ones until now. G'night, hun. Make up with the idiots when you cheer up, and I'll see you at McGinty's tomorrow night." He drops a surprisingly unscratchy kiss on my cheek and leaves me staring bemusedly after his retreating form, my hand frozen on my key.

"Children and fools," I murmur, smiling to myself as I finish opening the door.

I treat myself to the hottest shower I can stand until I feel the tension drain from my muscles and the water begins to cool. One cup of hot chocolate and a rotten late-night television show later, and I decide I might as well go to sleep. I'm way more tired than I thought I'd be, and tomorrow really is going to be very, very long. It's only eight o'clock, or so, but I have to be up pretty early, and I plan to sleep as long as I possibly can.

I consider relieving what's left of the tension the boys inflicted on me, but before I can even make a decent start, I'm snoring elegantly into my pillow.

…

There are not many things in the world that I like more than a good, long, peaceful sleep. There are also not many things in the world that irritate me more than waking up before my alarm goes off. So, both of those are very valid reasons as to why I'm not the happiest camper in the world when I'm unwillingly woken up well before the sun has even thought of rising.

"Mrrrmph…whos…Connor? What…what the hell are you doing here?" I hate, hate, HATE waking up before my alarm goes off.

"Y'said not t'let ye see us til t'morra. S'a tad early in th'day, but technically…" He trails off, his breath warm and silky against my neck. He's somehow managed to wrap himself almost entirely around me, shifting my body until I'm practically lying on top of him.

"How did you…wait, no! Do not try to smooth your way out of this, MacManus! I told you I needed time to cool off, and…and…" I do some of my own trailing off as he brushes his lips over my pulse point.

"Wanted t'pologize properly fer th'diner," he murmurs against my collarbone. "Know ye like it when I say m'sorry right 'n' proper."

Oh, do I ever…

"But you can't just break into my apartment before I have to…stop that! Before I have to be at work and just expect to fuck your way to forgiveness!"

In the darkness of my bedroom, I can feel his grin rather than see it. "Y'know I'll return yer spare key if it bothers ye dat much. As fer yer other arguments, ye've got hours yet til ye have t'get up, an' I don't see why I shouldn't expect just dat…s'always worked b'fore."

"Have I ever told you you're arrogant, cocky, and completely full of yourself?"

"S'me best qualities yer namin' there."

I can't keep the grin from my face, and though I know he can't see my submission to the inevitable, Connor somehow senses the drop in my defenses. He pulls me even closer against his (blessedly) bare chest and lines my jaw with more of those light, brushing kisses.

"Where's your worse half?" I ask, my breath catching a little as his tongue flicks over my earlobe. "Did he win or lose the coin toss to go first?"

"Neither," Murphy's voice answers from the foot of the bed. The mattress dips a little as he moves up to recline between us and the wall. "Just waitin' fer Connor here t'talk ye inta lettin' us apologize. Figured I'd let him get th'easy part outta th'way, then help wit' th'rough parts."

I can practically hear the smirks.

"Rough parts?! Are you kidding? I'll give you some rough parts before I'm finished with you! Do you two really think it's okay to ambush someone while she's helpless and sleeping and then—"

"Just let us say we're sorry, den ye c'n yell at us t'yer heart's content," Murphy interrupts. Before I can protest, he grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my face to his and claims my lips, rather effectively cutting off my tirade.

What was I…oh, fuck it. Seize the day.

There's a shuffling of limbs and removal of covers, and I shiver in the sudden absence of heat. I keep the temperature pretty low in my apartment when I sleep because I like thick blankets, so the cold air hits me like the first burst of water from the twins' shower. I can feel goosebumps rising all over my arms and legs, and my nerve endings practically sing everywhere the boys' skin contacts mine.

From the second I give over, the very air in the room changes. There's a shift in the atmosphere crackling thickly among the three of us. Tonight is going to be different, is already sizzling with tension, and I am breathless with anticipation.

Connor grips my hips, pulling me with him as he shuffles backwards up the bed. He half-props himself on my mountain of pillows, tugging and prodding my hips until I'm straddling his lap. Murphy moves with us, his tongue still exploring my mouth slowly and deliberately. His chest presses solidly and smoothly against the bare flesh of my shoulders, contrasting sharply with the rough scratch of his two-day stubble against my face. I moan incoherently, my arm finding its own way to his neck, snugging him even more tightly against me.

Never one to back down from an invitation, Murphy redoubles his efforts until there's not a centimeter between us. I wasn't aware until now that I could physically straddle one man while sitting in another's lap. His nails scrape deliciously down my neck and across my shoulders, and my lips come away from his with a hoarse, breathless exclamation that elicits a chuckle from the offending brother.

Connor is also far from idle in the illicit department. His hands ghost reverently up my thighs before slipping into the junction between us. His fingers brush almost negligently past my already swollen, throbbing clit to dip deliberately inside me, once, twice, a third time. I roll my hips into his touch, even as I arch further back into Murphy, reaching my other arm around for balance and because he's still not close enough.

I want to feel them everywhere, on and inside every inch of me, and I shudder with the jarring rush of hot desire that comes on the tail of this realization.

Murphy presses his lips against the back of my head, breathing, "Want this t'be so good fer ye, lass. Wanna make up fer everythin', wanna make ye feel fuckin' incredible." His words thrum through my skull and straight down my spine, pooling heat and electricity in my belly.

"Want it as good fer ye t'night as t'was at th'carnival…want ye t'let yerself go an' completely fall apart, like our first time t'gether." He trails the fingertips of one hand down my side, spreading over my hip and guiding my movements against Connor's hand.

His other hand slides under my arm and around my side, allowing his fingers access to the hypersensitive skin on the underside of my breast. Just as I draw a sharp breath in from the flood of sensation, Connor's fingers plunge deep inside me, rough and calloused and absolutely right, and my back bows sharply as my lungs lock, refusing to let any air or sound escape.

My hips involuntarily jerk up against his palm, and Connor takes advantage of my elevated position to shift himself subtly beneath me. As my respiratory system kicks back in, my hips slowly relax, sinking downwards. Connor rises to meet me, pulling my hips towards him just a little more, and suddenly he's sliding into me as if no one was meant to be there but him. I move against him, seeking relief, but hands on my knees and shoulders slow my frantic pace, steadying and lengthening my movements.

"Take it slow, lass, we got hours yet."

Oh, God in heaven, I can't last that long.

Before I can respond, Murphy removes his hands and disappears from behind me. Connor's sudden grip on my forearms is all that keeps me from toppling backwards, but my protests are cut off by his continued efforts.

God help me if I ever have to go back to nothing but my own fingers and a dirty magazine.

Murphy returns before my back has even cooled, and he gently presses my shoulders forward until I'm pressed fully against Connor.

"What—?"

"Shh, lass. Stop me if yer uncomf'terble, but ot'erwise, jus' relax."

I hear the click of a snap-top container open then the sound of Murphy massaging something wet between his hands. Instead of questioning, as I am wont to do, I simply enjoy Connor's ministrations as I wait for Murphy to act.

Lotion-covered hands start on my shoulders, kneading lazy circles slowly down my back. I murmur appreciatively, if a little confusedly, and allow myself to drift between the feeling of Connor moving under and inside me as Murphy's hands glide over my skin. It isn't until his hands skim over the curve of my ass that I realize what the purpose of his massaging really is.

Murphy leans away for a moment, and I hear the tell-tale snap of the lotion container once more. There's a moment of hesitation before his hands return to my ass. Murphy's fingers spread lotion slowly across my skin, massaging their way closer to his goal, and my breath speeds up a little. It's not that we've never tried anal before; it's just doesn't happen so often as to be common.

And never while I'm also already having sex with the other MacManus at the time.

I must have tensed up without realizing it because Murphy's hands still.

"Ye…sure yer okay wit' tryin' dis? We could—"

"I need…need you to go slow, Murph, but I also need you to not stop. But don't use the lotion…use…use the lube in my bedside drawer." My voice comes out far steadier than I would've thought possible (well, with a couple of minor hitches; Connor is still one of the best at what he does), and quite a bit lower and throatier than normal.

Murphy doesn't hesitate to comply, returning quickly from his expedition to my nightstand. Connor pulls my face to his even as he continues to move inside me, and I marvel at his sheer stamina and self-control. How is this man still going? As Murphy gently presses a now-lubricated finger into my ass, Connor kisses me deeply, swallowing my moan and distracting me until my body adjusts to the stretching sensation.

As I savor the biting, whisky-soaked, smoky taste of him on my tongue, I'm struck through with a shock of lust so powerful that I nearly come apart right then. I don't want to finish right now, though; I don't ever want to finish this. My toes curl into the bedsheet, and I growl into Connor's mouth, my hips grinding down against his.

Murphy responds to my intensified movements, adding a finger and deepening his strokes. My hips stutter at the unexpected addition, and I lose my rhythm. Murphy immediately slows his exploration while Connor murmurs encouragingly into my neck, keeping his own movements slow and gentle.

"Ye've got it, lass, don't stop now, like ye said t'Murph," he growls against my skin, his breath unbelievably hot and moist. "Just find yer rhythm again, stay wit' me."

Oh, forever and always, Connor, just say the words.

Murphy's hips begin rocking in time with mine, his hand sandwiched between us, his fingers keeping time with my thrusts. No one is speaking now; the air is heavy with sweat and musk, our sighs and moans seeming far away and muffled. I don't know how long we rock like that, but it seems like forever and o time at all. Somewhere in the background, there's an insistent beeping, but I don't recognize it through the fog of my heightened arousal, and it's muted enough to ignore. The pressure among us builds perceptibly, pressing us all closer together, until I can't hold back my whispered command.

"Now, Murphy. I want you both inside me right now."

Then Murphy's fingers are gone, replaced almost instantly by something so much better, and I don't have time to process the difference before I'm thrusting back against him, my mouth hanging open in a silent wail. My eyes roll back, my breath coming in short gasps that are not assisting my oxygen intake in any way whatsoever, and it's all I can do to stay conscious.

"Yes…yes…oh, God, yes…"

I have no idea who's speaking, if it's me or one of them.; I swear we're almost one person, we're so close; maybe it's all three of us. The beeping grows steadily louder, but then Connor plunges upwards, forcing me back against Murphy, pushing both himself and his brother further inside of me with every stroke. Murphy grabs one of my arms, winding it back behind his neck, pulling me up a little and pressing my shoulders flush against his chest again. Fingers find their way between my legs, searching for that explosive bundle of nerves, and I'm not entirely sure whose hand those fingers belong to.

"God, lass, yer killin' me…come fer me, darlin', jus' let go!"

I want to, I'm so…so close…God, please…But the beeping is cutting into my haze, distracting even in the middle of all this…

"Lemme see ye fall apart, lass, wanna feel ye come all around me…"

Please, just a little longer, God, please…I need…

BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…

"MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A GODDAMN BITCH!"

The alarm clock shattering against the far wall brings me fully awake, panting like I've run a marathon. I'm sweating and swearing, apparently having chucked the offending timepiece across the room in my panic and frustration.

Oh. My. God.

Seriously, what the fuck. Beyond not fair. I just…I just need a minute to…process.

They aren't really here. They didn't just apologize. I was not just in the middle of the most amazing experience (sexual or otherwise) in my life. I did not – NOT – get off. My alarm just ripped me from the best dream of my life. And now I'm expected to go deal with real life.

God, today is going to SUCK.

Author's Note: *ducks thrown timepieces* Don't hate me too hard. Apparently I like to interrupt sexy times. Has anyone noticed that trend? This is the first of a three piece story set that takes place in my Boondock Saints arc.

I know it's been a while since the last installment, and I apologize for that. I've had a bit of a new development (who currently is into pureed carrots, grabbing things, and rolling over but forgetting how to roll back), so my world slowed down quite a bit for a while. I can't promise fast or regular updates, but know the next part is mostly done (just needs updating and editing), and the third part is getting major renovations but has the first 2/3 of the plot done.

Thanks to Kyt and MJ for feedback and to Tricia for encouragement. Thanks to everyone for waiting this one out, and please take a moment or three to leave a review and remind me why I keep diving into to this crazy fantasy world.