Connor places a kiss to Murphy's shoulder as he pulls out, and settles next to Murphy with his own contented sigh. "Don't think ye kin die from being fucked too hard, little brother." "First," Murphy argues, more a mumble, really, and mostly out of habit. "Still and all, best I've ever had, mark my words." When he glances over, sleepy smile in place, it's to find Connor raising an eyebrow. "I'm the only one y've ever had." "Y'are not." "The hell I'm not." Try and give a man a compliment, and all he wants to do is start an argument. Typical Connor, Murphy thinks, with an inward roll of his eyes. He'd kick his brother's shin, but he's still feeling too lethargic and fucked out to move. "Haven't you ever heard of just enjoying the afterglow in peace?" "Bollocks to that." Connor pushed himself to a sitting position, grabbed his smokes from the bedside table. "I know yer just yanking my chain." Murphy sighs. Well, Connor had asked for it, after all... "Liam O'Malley gave me a mighty fine blowjob when we were 16, out by the old woodshed near the Potter farm. Damn nice mouth on him." Connor huffs out a snort. "Hummer's not the same thing as sex." "Says you." Murphy doesn't know about Connor, but he's sure as hell had head that's been at least as good as sex, if not better. Of course, most of those sorts of blowjobs had also been from Connor, but Murphy's never let logic stand in the way of making a point. Especially making a point to Connor. Connor's answering grin is as smug as Croesus. "Aye, I do." "So, Nancy Mulligan, then, when we were 17..." "Only ever gave handjobs," Connor states, with something like glee lighting his eyes. Pecker. It's a wonder Murphy puts up with him. Murphy offers his own raised eyebrow. "And you'd be knowing this, how?" "How d'y'think?" Connor replies, with an exasperated chuckle. "Y'know, it's no shame to just admit I'm yer only one. Yer mine." "Aye, well, I knew that already." Although Murphy's still glad enough to hear it. "I suppose, since we're just talking intercourse and all..." "Intercourse, he says, all fine and proper," Connor laughs, cigarette clamped between his teeth, smoke billowing a halo around him with each huff of breath. "I suppose, then, you'd be my only one," Murphy finishes, steadfastly (and mentally patting himself on the back for his fortitude) ignoring Connor's remarks. "But that still doesn't mean you can't be my best, just because yer my only." "Aye, I suppose not," Connor agrees, and nudges Murphy's calf with his foot. "Feel up to trying to be my best?" "Like I'm not already," Murphy retorts, but takes the bait as he's meant to, and rolls over, pinning Connor back to the mattress. He takes the cigarette from Connor's lips, takes a long drag himself, then crushes it out on the ashtray before crushing his lips to Connor, warm and familiar, tasting smoke and come in the kiss. He's never been able to resist a challenge where his brother is concerned.
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