Aint Never Seen Nothing Like A Galway Girl

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing within this story, except the things you don't recognize from the films. I borrow characters and play with them.

Pairing: Murph/OC

Summary: Set before the boys' Calling from the Lord. Murphy takes the long way to McGinty's, lost in thought when he runs into a woman with a familiar accent. Murphy/OC. Song!Fic.

Author's Note: Thanks for sticking around, ya'll! All the favourites and follows make my heart soar; thank you. Special thanks to reviewers x

ANYHOODLE. I'll be posting the chapter directly following this sometime in the next few days as an apology for not updating in such a long time. One more thing: This chapter we get smut. Isn't that fun?

ALSO ANOTHER FUN FACT: Our favourite Irish brothers are coming to Vancouver for the FanExpo in April. I live in Vancouver. This pleases Melanie.

Kisses and cumshots,


(P.S: Feel free to find me on tumblr at gentlyriseandsoftlycall (: )

We were halfway there when the rain came down,

Of a day ay eh ay eh.

And she asked me up to her flat downtown,

Of a fine soft day ay eh.

Their laughter rang out through the damp evening air. The rain had long stopped, and Murph and Ceilidh were arm in arm once again as they made their way away from McGinty's. They were stumbling around and attempting to hold each other up, which mostly failed. But they tried anyway.

"I - I can' believe this happened. Meetin' ya earlier tonigh' an' gettin' drunk an' yer brother flirtin' wit' me an' shit. I've known ya fer … six hours? Somethin' like tha'. Anyway … Six hours an' now I'm stumblin' drunk 'round Boston wit' ya. All because I was cravin' a fag somethin' fierce. Hey look - Pancakes." Ceilidh suddenly pointed across the street from them to a breakfast restaurant that was open 24 hours. Her drunken pointing caused her to walk in that direction, taking Murph with her. The pair had left McGinty's only minutes ago, leaving Con and Rocco by themselves at the pub - possibly heading back to the MacManus' flat or possibly to another pub. All Murph knew was that he wanted a bit of alone time with the lovely McCoy. Where they were headed, he didn't care. He just wanted to be with her. She had kept up a drunken chatter the whole while, talking about whatever she fancied to Murph, not caring if it made sense or not. It was endearing.

Murph quickly wrapped an arm round her waist and pulled her back to the sidewalk, chuckling the whole while. "No, lass."

Ceilidh's look of utter sadness brought on another round of laughter on Murph's part. But she cracked a smile, and playfully hit him on the chest. Murph hadn't let his arm slip from her waist yet, and she placed a hand over his, leaning back into his chest. Her dark curls brushed his chin as she giggled beneath him, pushing her arse back. Directly in the vicinity of his crotch. He squirmed as he let out a shocked breath, causing Ceilidh to smile wider. His arm tightened round her waist as he pulled her closer.

"Tryin' ta tell me somethin', lass?" He asked as they continued to walk, slower this time. Ceilidh leaned her head further back, looking up into his eyes as he looked down at her.

"I've been tryin' ta tell ya all night, MacManus. Since I'm now obviously more inebriated than I was earlier, I thought I'd make it a wee bit more obvious," she said with a warm smile. Murph blinked, looking down at her, not saying anything. With an exaggerated eye roll, Ceilidh shakily turned around, causing Murph to whimper lightly. The growing hardness in his trousers was sad to see her go. But her heat was only gone a moment as she turned to face him, his arm still around her waist. He placed the other one round her as well, and she wove her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, lifting her chin slightly, her eyes never leaving his. Murph could feel his heart hammer away in his chest as he brought his mouth to meet her. They were so close now; he could feel her breath was across his face as both of their eyes fell closed. They inched, closer and closer, agonizingly slow. When they were mere millimetres apart -

It started to rain. Ceilidh twitched as she felt the fat drops fall on her forehead, her nose, and slide down her neck. She shuddered delicately, scrunching her nose and instinctively pulling away from Murph. He shook his head lightly; dispelling the raindrops that had already made a home in his hair. He opened his eyes, and saw Ceilidh's wide blue ones watching him, a blush reddening her cheeks to a rosy hue. She looked beautiful.

They stared at each other a moment, marvelling at what just happened - or what didn't happen, really. The fierce red blush on Ceilidh's cheeks remained there as she smiled sheepishly up at him, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Murph smiled back at her, feeling a small heat creep up his neck. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, making her giggle. His hands remained on the small of her back, and he used those to pull her closer to him. Ceilidh rested her head in the crook of his neck, her hands falling from the nape to his shoulder blades. She placed a small, gentle kiss on the side of his neck; so soft Murph wasn't sure it happened at all.

They stayed in a hug for a few moments, before Ceilidh started to pull away. Murph instinctively looked down, and saw her smiling flirtatiously up at him. He cocked an eyebrow and smiled back.

"It's rainin' somethin' awful, an' me hotel's not tha' far. How would ya fancy comin' by?" She asked, her voice quiet in the night.

He didn't even have to think it over. "I'd love ta, lass."

When Murph thought about it earlier in the evening -only once or twice, he lied to himself- he'd wanted their first kiss to be perfect. And, he supposed, it was. It just wasn't the sweet and gentle type of first kiss, like in the films. It was messy and fun; filled with heavy breaths and tongues battling for dominance. It was desperate and passionate. It was against a door.

Murph was sure his Ma would've slapped him right upside the head if she saw the vulgar way he treated a woman.

They had made it through the rain to Ceilidh's hotel in only ten minutes' time. They remained arm-in-arm, and ran through the evening's gloom the whole way, laughing and smiling at each other. It felt quite natural with her, Murph thought. Laughing with Ceilidh. Like breathing.

Distinctly more wet than earlier, they walked through the lobby of the hotel Ceilidh and her illusive sister were staying at. It was brightly lit, with only one man behind the counter. He chuckled and shook his head as the two inebriated Irish folk whisked by. Once they hit the lift, Ceilidh pressed the button for the seventh floor, and leaned against the wall, her eyes falling shut. There was a small smile on her face, and Murph couldn't help smiling at the sight. As he watched, Ceilidh opened her eyes and reached down, unzipping her boots and stepping out of them. Once her now-bare feet touched the group, she let out a moan of pleasure. She often thought that taking off tight shoes after a long day was the most beautiful feeling. Next to an orgasm, that is.

She leaned down, slightly shaky, and picked up her boots. Ceilidh cracked her toes, wiggling them, and turned her ankle round. Letting her feet breathe, she looked up at Murph, and let out a quick laugh when she saw he was watching her.

"Sorry, luv. Sore feet," she explained, chuckling.

He laughed with her as the lift dinged!, signalling that they had arrived on the seventh floor. Ceilidh, with a flirtatious smile once again making its way to her lips, grabbed hold of Murph's hand, and led him out of the confined lift. She walked, dragging Murph behind her, past three doors before she stopped at the fourth door on the left side. Room 707.

Once in front of the door, Ceilidh reached into her pocket for the key. But, little did she know, Murph was an impatient man. He grabbed Ceilidh gently by the shoulder and spun her round. She looked up into his eyes with shock, before the lust took over. She leaned back against the still-closed door, dropped her boots and key, and reached for Murph as he reached for her. He braced his hands against the door, on either side of Ceilidh's face, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. Murph pushed his body against hers, making contact everywhere he could. Knees, chest, mouth.

They kissed for the first time. It wasn't shy, it wasn't sweet. It was slow at first; their mouths made contact and both their lips stayed firmly pressed together, not letting the other enter just yet. But as Murph made a small purr in the back of his throat, Ceilidh all but melted into him. She opened up to him, letting his tongue slide into her mouth. She pressed her back harder against the door behind her, gaining leverage. She wrapped one leg around his waist, her hands running down his neck and chest, exploring. Their tongues battled for dominance, which was a battle Murph won. It made Ceilidh smile behind the kiss; she found the hem of his jacket and slipped her hands beneath it, searching for his feverish skin. When she found it, she ran her fingers over his hip bones, and they came to a rest on the small of his back. She dug her nails in, pulling him ever closer.

With a great effort, Murph pulled back from her. He rested his forehead against hers as they regained their breath, Murph never taking his eyes from Ceilidh's. She smiled, an eyebrow quirking up in question: Why did we stop?

"I think it would be best if we continued inside," he told her, and she nodded in agreement. He backed away from her as she bent over to pick up her boots and room key. Once they were in hand, Ceilidh turned round, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Murph quickly followed.

Ceilidh turned on the light, revealing the small room. She dropped her shoes beside the door, placing the key on top of a table beside the door. Murph let his gaze wander around the room quickly, taking in his surroundings. Directly to his left was another door, presumably for the bathroom. A few steps forward from the front door, lay the rest of the room. A small television sat, lonely, on one corner. Two queen-sized beds sat side-by-side against the far wall. Both were empty.

"Where's yer sister?" Murph asked, shrugging off his jacket. Ceilidh took the article of clothing from his, placing it on the table next to her own. "With some bloke. She told me she wouldn't be back til tomorrow mornin'," she explained to Murph.

He nodded his head, before toeing off his boots. Ceilidh smiled suggestively, then perched on the edge of one of the beds. She patted the empty space beside her, inviting Murph over. He didn't need to be asked twice.

He walked slowly over to her, watching as she bit her lip. She scootched further back on the bed, opening her legs for him. He nearly moaned at the sight. He sat on his knees between her legs, smiling down at her. Ceilidh reached up and pawed at Murph's shirt, signalling that she wanted it off. He chuckled at that, before grabbing the hem of his black tee shirt, and pulling it up and over his head. He discarded the fabric quickly, throwing it on the ground behind him. Not to be outdone, Ceilidh pulled off her sleeveless red shirt, throwing it behind Murph, revealing a strapless black bra. Murph leaned down, and kissed the top of both her breasts once, before giving her a quick kiss on the neck.

Ceilidh's eyes fell shut as she moaned lightly, lavishing in the feeling. She pushed back Murph at the shoulders, so she had room to unclasp her brassiere from the front. Once unclasped, she pulled it out from under her and threw the garment to the floor. She shook out her hair, letting it fall all around her face, before looking up into Murph's eyes.

He was staring at her, every inch of her; he moved his eyes up and down her body, drinking her in. Her long legs, her curves, her ample breasts, the thrumming pulse at her throat, and those sapphire eyes. She was remarkably beautiful. He leaned down the kiss her once again, his hands going for her breasts, pinching her nipples lightly. She gasped in response, and felt even more heat rush to the spot between her legs.

Reaching between the nonexistent space between their bodies, Ceilidh fumbled at the belt around Murph's waist. He lifted his body from her, giving her space to remove his trousers. Getting the space she needed, Ceilidh quickly undid Murph's belt, popped the button, and brought down the zipper on his worn blue jeans. She sat herself up slightly, pulling the jeans down Murph's hips. Seeing that she wouldn't be able to remove them from this angle, Murph stood up and dropped his trousers to the floor, stepping out of them. He saw Ceilidh biting her lip once again, gazing down longingly at his tented boxers.

Murph stepped forward, and repeated Ceilidh's actions on her own jeans. He had them undone in no time, and pulled them down her supple legs, letting them fall to the floor. She hadnt been wearing any panties, and that drove him mad. Quickly stepping out of his boxers, he got back to his position between her legs, kissing her franticly.

His hand reached down between her legs, exploring her most precious spot. She moaned into his mouth as he found her clitoris, rubbing it gently with the pad of his thumb. She grabbed onto his hair, tightening her fingers in the smooth, brown locks, holding him against her; with the other hand she reached down and grabbed onto his throbbing cock. He gasped into her mouth, not expecting her hand. He could feel her smiling while they kissed. She gripped his cock, slowly bringing her hand up and down the shaft. With a growl, he began to massage her clit in earnest. There was a sudden, unspoken competition: who could make the other come first.

When Ceilidh realized that she was close to the edge, she opened her eyes and hooked her leg around Murph's waist. With a quick twist, she pushed him over so he was now on his back, with Ceilidh on top. She gave him a wicked grin; Murph's hand was now at his side, not fiddling with her clitoris. He mock-glared at her; she simply laughed.

"Yer not winnin' this one, MacManus," she laughed. Before he had a chance to protest, she had slid lower down the bed, and wrapped her mouth around his cock. He then found he didn't want to protest.

His eyes fell shut, and he moaned with pleasure as Ceilidh's tongue lapped playfully at the head of his cock, her mouth diving up and down. And when she hollowed out her cheeks. Lord's fucking name.

Murph rested his hand atop Ceilidh's head, his fingers knotting in her dark hair. He urged her on, and they both moaned. She loved the feel of his hands in her hair. She loved the way he was acting; loved the fact that she did this to him. No one else. She was doing this.

When Murph felt himself getting close to the precipice of orgasm, he opened it his eyes. He didn't want to finish like this; he wanted Ceilidh to feel it too. With a thick swallow, he said "Ceilidh, ya need ta stop, lass. I'm almost there."

She almost frowned. Releasing his cock from her mouth, she grinned at Murph's form. He was heavy-lidded, breathing heavy, with a sheen of sweat on every inch of his body. Ceilidh bit her lip, and crawled on top of him. Her knees on either side of his chest, she lowered herself down onto him, using a hand to guide his cock into her sopping-wet cunt. She was glad he'd stopped her. She wanted them to come together, the first time. Because, she knew, there would be more times throughout the night.

As he slip inside her, both parties let out a moan of pleasure. He stretched her slightly; it had been a while. Murph had to stop himself from thrusting hard into her right there; he knew she needed to get comfortable. Resting her hands on his chest, Ceilidh positioned herself lower onto him, letting his in the whole way. She bit her lip and moaned, her eyes falling closed as her legs trembled with lust. Murph brought his hands up to grip her waist, digging his fingers in to her pale flesh. She moaned once again, and began to grind against him; asking permission to begin making love. He smiled, his eyes never leaving hers.

They began a natural rhythm of push and pull; like they were destined to make love. She brought herself down, he pushed his waist up. They moaned together, eyes lighting up in ecstasy, as they both grew closer to their point of orgasm.

When Ceilidh whimpered that she was close, he began pounding into her with a new vigour; hard and fast they trusted; and, together, they fell off the edge and cried out as an orgasm rocketed through them both.

"Oh, Lord," Ceilidh cried out, in between pants of Murphy, Murphy. Murph shouted out her name as he came inside her.

Ceilidh quite literally rode out the waves of her pleasure, her eyes never wavering from Murph's. She smiled at him.

Exhausted, Ceilidh fell forward, her chest atop Murph's, her face burrowed in his neck. He wound his arms around her back, holding her in place. Her legs were shaking from the aftermath of her orgasm, and she kissed Murph's neck, over and over, before leaning up to kiss him gently on the mouth.

Yet another author's note: Sorry for ending it quite abruptly, but I do have something planned for the end of this story. I'm not really going to follow the last verse of the song; he wakes up alone, to find her gone forever. Because I don't think Murph deserves that, do you? Thanks again for reading; only one more chapter after this! x