Nicholas: Challenge from Becki in response to "I wanna sex you up." Remember the jail sex that I challenged on her, she paid me back with that. So here it is, enjoy them sexing each other up. The twins, that is.
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys or the original situation that I ran off of. Duffy does, that prick...(all due respect to the Man.)
Rating: M...language...sex...yep, that's about it.
"Ya know where we are, right Murph?"
He looked up at me with raised eyebrows. Something in his smirk spelled mischief that was in my mind. "Ya figured that out finally, did ya?" As quick as a flash, he was checking dead Russians for something.
"Shut the fuck up! I didn't hear you throwin' any great fuckin' revelation in there about it, so fuck off! Now…what the fuck're ya doin'?"
"Lookin' fer a key. One o' these fuckin' Commies musta had a room next door if that fat fuck was stayin' here." It was a good point, I had to admit. I watched him in his giddy state for a few moments. Wow, he was ridiculously excitable and I know right then that despite the carnage of the situation, he would make this happen. "I got my bets on the big one here." He moved his attention to who had until lately looked like a bodyguard with a skin condition.
I turned to Rocco, who had that look on his face like he had no fucking idea what was going on. Speaking just to keep myself from laughing at him, I said this: "Listen, Roc, he better leave at different times to reduce suspicion and such, so you get the fuck outta here an' Murph an' I'll meet ya at yer place in about three hours."
"Make that three an' a half er four," Murphy commented from behind me. I glanced back at him to see him extracting a fancy hotel card key from Bodyguard's coat pocket like a surgeon with a tumor. "We are victorious, moy brat."
With wide eyes and raised brows, Rocco considered us carefully. "Do I need to ask? Actually, do I want to ask?" he murmured the last bit under his breath, but I heard it. "Whatever, some things just never fucken change, man. Have fun, I'm the fuck outta here."
Murphy shot me a snide smirk and I already liked where this was going. "Let's go then, sweetpea." He followed Rocco out of the room and I ran after him. Th'fuck is a sweetpea? but I didn't ask. I did abruptly stop, however, to once more look over the nine dead men and wonder how the fuck something as beautiful and gentle as my baby brother could have done this. Then, I heard him whistle and knew he was calling me.
I followed him out and found him waiting in the hall. Rocco's back disappeared around the corner, hiding that ridiculous, baby blue uniform he'd been wearing, to leave me alone with that feral, wolfish grin and those evil intentions I knew my brother had. "So…" I took a few steps toward him, braving the burning fire in his eyes and giving back what I hoped was a similar smirk. "I don't know about you, but I wanna wash off some o' this 'Righteous Sin' b'fore we do what's not so righteous."
"As long as I can help," he snickered lightly, reaching out to grab my collar and pull me along to where the key fit a keyhole.
"Do they honestly need a tub this fuckin' big?" Murphy asked loudly from the door to the elegant bathroom. I had already dumped my duffle bag and coat on the floor by the door and was walking over the tile pulling my shirt off. I heard him chuckle.
"I don't give a fuck why, but I haven't had a real bath in years. I bet they even got hot, fuckin', water in this fuckin' place." The thing was like a Jacuzzi or a hot tub or something. I thought that only big mansions had things like this, but right then, the sight of it made me care less. Porcelain or something expensive lined the sides and the faucet was colored gold, too make it look even fancier. I was eager when I undid my pants.
"Show no shame, Conn," that little snot behind me muttered, "good boy." He came up and ran his hands down my back, but I didn't bother with him. I reached over and turned the knob to start the water flowing. About the same time the water was running hot, Murphy had his hands tucked in my jeans and boxers and was pulling them down.
His hands ghosted up my chest and I felt him press up against me as I straightened my back. "You fergot ta take off yer shoes."
"Yer the one that got pushy. So, ye better fuckin' take care o' that, right?"
"Fuck you." He turned me around and as soon as I faced him I grabbed his shoulders to steady myself and kiss him firmly. I didn't want him to forget that he wasn't in charge here. Yanking his jacket down his shoulders, I pulled him up against me sharply, letting his wandering hands go where they wished.
Our lips parted ways at a crossroads where Murphy shoved me down to sit on the edge of the tub so he could kneel down and get my shoes, socks, and pants off. I couldn't help but smirk. "I'm sure tha's what ya plan ta do, dear," I remarked, "but I wanna bath first. B'fore that, no monkey business, ya got me?"
"Yer no fun," Murphy said once he finally had the damn things off my feet. "Can I at least join ye?" How could I deny that pout? It was impossible.
Somewhere in the midst of his animated "yipee," I found myself pushed backward into a half-full bathtub. The water was very hot, but not so much that it hurt. I just lost my breath because of it and had to struggle to situate myself after my head was completely submerged. Fuckin' clumsy-ass bastard. I could hear him make some exclamation before his hands grabbed my arms and pulled me up. "An' I thought you weren't the clutzy one," I stated as sarcastically as I could manage.
I could tell he was trying not to laugh at me, and it pissed me off a bit. Of course, I didn't let it get to me because I knew that he was just that stupid sometimes. He made it up to me by sliding me backward gently into the water and I couldn't help but smirk at him.
I sat on a seat/ledge at the back of the tub and watched and waited while Murphy undressed himself. His pale skin held tightly to bones and muscle where manual labor had done its job. Now, like every time I look at him like this, I wanted him to taste like white chocolate. However, when he climbed into the bath, pressed his thin lips against mine and settled into the steaming water, there was flesh and sweat. I struggled to push him away because I had a statement to live up to. "No, I said bath first."
"Oh fine, ass hole." I was completely taken by surprise when he reached up to the counter on the side and grabbed both a complimentary wash cloth and bottle of body wash. "Where should I start?"
I'm sure my face showed my astonishment by the grin on his face. "Take your pick," I offered, leaning back and give him complete access to my entire body except my back.
Bed. Bed now. I didn't know how good it felt to be submerged in warm water with such a wonderful body pressed hard against me, touching me, kissing me, and basically loving me. Unfortunately, the ceramic sides hurt my head when Murphy shoved me back in his wild movements and excited passion. "Bed," I had snapped harshly, "Bed, now."
We had not unplugged the tub to let the water out. He just picked me up and dragged me over the tile floor. I felt myself practically carried off across the floor, having to trust him not to run me backwards into something other than the bed. I liked being held by him like this. His strong arms wrapped around my waist, wet chest against mine. Murphy claimed my breath with his open mouth and his tongue exploring every inch of me, taking my consciousness through haze and arousal. Fingers pressed into the backs of my thighs and dug harshly into my skin. I was no longer aware of moving, no longer aware of the carpet beneath my feet or the bed hitting the backs of my legs.
He pushed me down and stole his tongue from my mouth, laving hungrily at the base of my jaw as I sat on the deep blue comforter. "There, you had yer fuckin' bath. My turn for fun."
I grabbed his shoulders and dug my nails deep into his muscles to grapple him to me and kiss him hard. I could feel the fabric of the blanket beneath me dampening under my wet flank and the water was getting a bit too cold for comfort. Pressed against me, his flesh was warm and slick and firm. I wanted his skin against my mouth; I wanted his hot body on every inch of mine. The sharp contrast between my cold back and the warmth of his hands touching my abdomen and brushing across my nipples made me shiver. I couldn't help it.
The next thing I could register was letting Murphy shove me back and push me down. Before I could beat him to it, his tongue brushed over my throat and his strong form settled over mine. My mouth was free, and empty. Sort of lonely. "You're all wet," he snickered.
"Water does that," I replied cheekily. Jagged teeth set into my collar secreting a fiery venom through to my bone. "Ouch…"
In between the gentle laps of his tongue to sooth that harsh sting, he chuckled and spoke to me. "Did I do that? I didn't mean to." Lying son of a bitch. "How about I make up for that, hm?" I couldn't quite make another word when he set his teeth into my nipple and fuck that hurt like a mother fucker. I grabbed his hair and yanked tightly, feeling my back curved up into his mouth.
"Fuckin'! Er'ya tryin' ta eat me alive?"
"Yes." Fuckin' cheeky-mouthed idiot. I didn't say anything. He didn't want me to, and I knew he knew what he was doing to me. "I wanna taste every last inch o' this creation ye are. Midnight snacks are my favorite meal, Conn."
Much to my own dismay, I heard myself whimper. His hands stroked and petted and scratched up my inner thighs. "More'en a snack," was the extent of my lung capacity. Constant flares of red and orange licked the insides of my eyelids as his wicked lips snaked even farther down my chest. Bruising touches, molten breath, my damp hair was starting to lose the chill around where my ears were flushing crimson. My knuckles couldn't even tense enough to grasp him in that punishing grip on his dark locks. I was left with just a languid petting of soft strands and that vivacious lapping of tongue on belly. Pushing my head back into the pillow, I let my mind wander.
"This is yer last item, isn't it?" he asked tenderly, mouth moving over taught, quivering muscle. "Sex in the Copley Plaza Hotel. I wanna fulfill that fer ya." He nudged my legs apart and I acquiesced immediately.
"Then fuckin' do it," I urged him, not necessarily demanding, but not quite pleading either. He was damn, fucking aware that I needed him, he was just the type of snide bastard that would make me tell him.
It didn't seem like more than a half of a second before I was twisting, writhing, convulsing around that one center point of pain and bliss. Considering that we were doing the nasty on some dead Russian shmuck's bed next to a crime scene where any maid is liable to walk in at any moment, I found that what would have been some anxious miasma was now a euphoric high. Colors swirled in my head as Murphy worked his way inside and then outside and then inside and out of me. I considered the wet spot I was leaving on the comforter and I distinctly remember hoping it would dry before the cops got there to investigate. I considered the noise I was making, grunting, groaning and near-howling with every brutal, delicious thrust. I considered what I should be considering and that was the demonic angel delivering me from what sanity the human race is blessed with. I dug blunt nails into his shoulder blades and stretched my neck back to make way for the sand-paper rasp of his tongue on my throat.
"God yes," I muttered my blasphemy loud enough for only him to hear, if indeed there was some else to catch it. In response, I felt a playful yet sharp nip on the sensitive flesh below my ear.
The more I whined and moaned and squirmed, the faster and harsher and more violent he became. The bed frame shook, but remained wonderfully silent under this awesome power consuming my entire being. He was just at the border of out of control and I loved it. I wanted him to lose it and love me as hard as necessary. I wanted to feel every bit of my dearest friend's physical and mental release. It was coming, that much I knew. This fuck tends to take me by surprise sometimes, so I just panted and clasped my arms around him, taking his increasing pace with as much patience and composure as I could.
God it was like wrestling the fucking hydra. He didn't give up on anything, this little jerk. At this point I didn't care when he did it, just that he did it before I passed out from what had to have been a drug overdose. This much Murphy couldn't be less legal than the nine dead bodies next door. Strangely, that thought didn't turn me off at all. It fueled me. I pressed my head against his ear and lapped teasing at the only bit of skin I could reach just before his hairline. His lungs collapsed in his chest and he released a haggard sigh before I could feel him release deep inside of me. I was throbbing so hard my head hurt (the one on my shoulders).
Suddenly, I wished it hadn't ended that quickly. I felt my heart leap in something like panic because my twin was spent and I was still…god I needed something like relief. "Murphy…" I hissed, cracking a bit at the end when he slid out of me.
"I know," he muttered, his voice shaking just slightly. "Can't make too much of a mess though. We'll be caught." I think I voiced my dismay in a loud groan, but he shushed me. "I have an idea."
I trusted him, and he was right about the mess thing. If I went and jizzed on the blankets there was absolutely no doubt that the police would not only find out about us being killers but also about our strange sex practices. He moved down my trembling body once more with open-mouthed kisses and loud slurping noises. That heavy weight between my legs ached even harder when I figured out his idea. His warm mouth closed around my unsheathed sword and the hyper-sensitized state of my skin went haywire. He took me down his throat, then slid his head back so that his lips hugged the tip and he repeated this until he brought me off and consumed every last shred of evidence of my blinding, excruciating, fantastic orgasm.
The next second I had of intelligible thought was filled with "we need to get the fuck out of here."