Author's Note: I don't own anything to do with the Boondock Saints.

This is the first time I've written something along these lines I usually have the twins with an OC. I apologize that it's a little short but who knows maybe I'll add more to it someday.

Answered Prayers

Connor and Murphy MacManus walked into the unlocked church in the early hours of the morning. There wasn't a soul around but it was better that way because if there was they'd see the guilt etched into their features. They walked side by side down the long aisle of wooden pews, the only sound coming from their boots against the tiled floor, and simultaneously dropped to their knees in front of the pulpit. Eyes were closed, prayers mumbled, and hearts heavy after their last hit. After a few moments they crossed themselves and rose to their feet.

"Give me a minute," Murphy mumbled but he knew his brother heard him as he headed toward the confessional. There was no one on the other side to listen to him but it didn't matter as long as the man upstairs was paying attention to his pleas for forgiveness.

Connor sighed as the door to the confessional shut leaving him alone in the church with the light from the candles dancing around the room. Murphy had been fidgety for the last couple of hours and it was killing him inside that he didn't know how to fix it. They would never turn their back on their calling for taking out the evil men in the world but tonight an innocent had been caught in the crossfire. It was an image he wouldn't soon be able to get out of his mind.

Everything had happened so fast; glass shattering, gunfire, and then her scream of pain. It had pierced the twins right to their soul but it was too late. The blood mixed with her sun kissed locks as the life left her eyes leaving them cold and fixed. Connor wiped the blood splatter from her face and crossed her arms over her chest. No pennies were left for this fallen angel as he closed her eyes for the final time. He had glanced over to Murphy who was almost shell shocked just staring at the woman in front of them completely emotionless.

This wasn't something that Connor would be able to fix with some joke or a bottle of whiskey. The horror and devastation in his brother's eyes was enough to break anyone but it was tearing him apart. He'd fix this, he'd fix him, he had to. The longer Murphy was in the confessional and away from him the more Connor wanted to be close to him. He thought about sliding into the booth next to Murphy, rising up the divider and talking to him through the mesh but that wasn't enough. Each second seemed to tick by excruciatingly slow until Connor couldn't take it anymore. He strode over to the confessional and slipped through the door to see Murphy sitting on the bench with his head in his hands.

Connor crouched down in front of him, resting his hands on Murphy's thighs, their foreheads touching. Murphy would never admit it but this was exactly what he had been praying for. He needed to know his brother forgave him for what had happened earlier that night. Her screams were still ringing in his ears and before he knew it a lone tear was rolling down his cheek. Connor caught it with his lips, kissing away the pain that was tearing at his twin from the inside. A pain that seemed to flow between them and link their souls. Connor trailed his kisses from Murphy's cheek, to his jaw line, to his Mother Mary tattoo before Murphy grabbed his face and caught his lips with his own. Murphy had a hand on either side of Connor's face, keeping him in his spot while he nipped and tugged at his bottom lip.

It was more than a want or even some fantasy he needed his brother to heal him like no one else could. Connor's tongue darted into Murphy's mouth as he pushed the pea coat from his shoulders. Murphy freed his arms from the heavy coat before removing his brother's as well. They broke apart only when needed to draw air into their lungs and as Murphy's chest heaved with each breath Connor found his hands trailing up Murphy's thighs again. He waited for a sign that he shouldn't be doing this, he expected some confusion or worse yet rejection to flash through his brother's eyes, but instead Murphy slightly shifted his hips urging Connor on.

Their eyes locked as Connor slowly undid Murphy's belt, the buckle hitting the wooden seat almost echoed in the empty church. He was being cautious, waiting for the moment where it would all be too much, and he'd tell him to stop. Connor could only pray that those words never left his brother's mouth because as he freed Murphy from his pants and ran a hand along his shaft he never wanted to turn back. He stroked Murphy's length a few times, letting his thumb slid over his slit, until he broke eye contact and replaced his thumb with his tongue. He licked from the base to the tip before taking him fully in his mouth.

Murphy braced himself with one hand one the wall next to him while the other gripped the back of Connor's hair encouraging him to continue. Murphy lifted his hips, ramming himself down his brother's throat needing a release he knew was close. Connor focused solely on the task, shutting down his gag reflex that threatened to stop their activities, because he wasn't about to deny Murphy anything. Connor wrapped his left hand around the base and let his hand follow his lips up and down his brother's dick while his right hand massaged his balls.

Tasting his brother was unlike anything Connor had ever experienced before and a need to be inside of him surged though his veins. There was a new fire burning from within and his eyes darkened in lust. In one swift move, Connor pulled Murphy to his feet and spun him around so that his face was flush against the wall. Murphy's pants and boxers pooled at his ankles and Connor ripped the t-shirt off so he could take in every inch of his body leaving Murphy standing there with nothing but his rosary beads on.

"Do it," Murphy rasped out. "Whatever you need. Do it."

He should have said no. Connor's mind was telling him how wrong it was but it didn't stop him from getting hard as he used his own rosary beads to tie his brother's hands behind his back. He dropped his own pants and shed his shirt. He spit into his hand and ran it along his dick not wanting to hurt his twin. He did it one more time to make sure it was slick before positioning himself right behind Murphy.

"Do it," Murphy whispered again almost as if he sensed Connor's hesitation.

Connor slid into him afraid he might hurt him but once he got past the initial shock of how tight Murphy felt he was in heaven. At first he moved so slow that it was taking everything in him to keep control but on more whisper from his twin and all concern went out the window. His brain completely shutdown as he pumped in and out of him, Murphy's tied hands hitting him every time he pounded back into his brother. Sweat beaded his forehead and if the confessional had windows he was sure they'd be steamed up as well. Each thrust was taking Connor to a new level of ecstasy that he didn't know was possible. As he got close he sunk his teeth into the back of Murphy's shoulder to keep himself from crying out.

It wasn't until the metallic taste flooded his mouth that he let up on Murphy's shoulder and slid out of him, pumping himself a few more times until he came right above his brother's bare ass. His fluid dripped from the cross on his rosary beads and in that moment he knew he was going straight to hell. It didn't bother him like he expected it to though as he cleaned himself and his brother off. Whether they were in heaven or hell as long as they had each other he'd be happy.

"It wasn't your fault, you know," Connor felt like he needed to remind his brother as he untied the rosary beads and put them back around his own neck.

Murphy gave a short nod, his lips pursed together in a tight line, while he rubbed his wrists. They awkwardly dressed in the small space and as Connor walked out Murphy glanced up to the ceiling with a smirk on his face. "Thank you."

There were little indentations from the beads on his skin and a bite on the back of his shoulder that he was sure was going to scar. He'd wear them with pride though because his prayer was answered and maybe, just maybe, when they got home he'd have the courage to ask for a shared shower.