|
Title:There Is No Oxygen In Space
Author: heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: Boondock Saints, Connor/Murphy
Rating: R
Warning: Iincest and a Star Trek obsession. Cheesy television references galore.
Disclaimer: I lay no claim to Mr. Duffy’s creations, any of the Star Treks, or anything worth Six Million Dollars.
There Is No Oxygen in Space
“Hullo?”
“Assemble the away team, Mr. Scott.”
Murphy grinned. “Aye-aye, sir,” he said, taking care to add an extra burr to the ‘r’.
Murphy lay back on the bed and got comfortable. He waited patiently for Connor’s next instruction.
“Systems check,” Connor ordered briskly.
Murphy cradled the phone on his shoulder and threaded his fingers together. He straightened his arms, palms out, and stretched his fingers. “Ready for inspection.”
“Sensor array.” Connor’s voice sounded distant, distorted by ambient noise and the digital cell phone he must have been using.
Murphy hated that digital sound. In the future, there would be wireless communications without the distortion, and no fucking receiver to hold.
Where was he? Ah, yes, sensor array. Murphy slid his hands down to cover his nipples with his palms. He gave his chest a light squeeze, then rotated his hands for some satisfying friction. “Sensors set to maximum sensitivity, captain.”
“Excellent, Scotty. How are the dilithium crystals?”
It wasn’t like Connor to skip to the dilithium crystals right away. He must be pressed for time. Murphy obediently slid his hand down his belly, avoiding his already rigid penis, to cup his balls through his boxers. “Fully charged, sir, and ready for action.”
“Torpedo status.”
Murphy moved his other hand down to grab his cock. “Hard. It’s hard,” he moaned. “Captain,” he added as an afterthought.
And it was. Murphy had been hoping Connor would call. It was awful when they had to split up like this, even if only for a few nights. But that was the reality of life on the lam. During these enforced separations, stolen cell phones were their only means of contact.
Connor breathed hard through the airwaves. “Double check. Make sure it’s ready for action.”
Murphy wriggled his hand into his shorts and bumped his knuckles against hot, hard cock. “Fully fucking loaded,” he said. “Ready to explode.”
“Oh, yeah. Make it so,” Connor growled.
“Fuck!”
“What?”
“You know what, ya retard.”
“What?”
“That’s strictly Next Generation.”
“Fuck off. ‘Tis not.”
“Is so. Picard always says it.”
“Kirk must have said it some time.”
“It’s Picard’s line!”
“So what?”
“You know I hate mixing up Star Treks,” Murphy wailed. He was still hard; it hadn’t upset him enough to shrink his erection. But he was pissed off.
“I don’t think this is the time to morph into Mr. Sci-Fi purist.”
“It spoiled the mood.”
“Excuse me!” Connor was getting out of breath.
That made Murphy even more vexed. Not only had Connor deliberately sabotaged the phone sex by interjecting a clearly Next Generation line into an Original Series exchange, but now he was carrying on without Murphy.
“You fuck!”
“Jaysus, Murphy, it’s not like I violated the prime directive.”
No. Close, but no.
“C’mon Murphy. We’re supposed to be on an away mission, not taking the piss outta each other. Let’s engage!”
“No longer in the mood,” Murphy lied.
“Oh, really?”
“Really. So what are you going to do about it, ‘Captain’?
Murphy was startled out of his petulance by a loud bang on the door.
“There’s someone at the door,” he whispered.
“Well, answer it.”
Murphy looked down at his hard cock sticking up out of his boxers. “Can’t. ‘m not decent.”
“Put on a robe and answer the fucking door.”
Murphy grabbed his robe and his big knife and crept to the door. He still had the cell phone wedged between his ear and shoulder. “I’m going to the door,” he said quietly.
He opened it a crack and dropped the knife, fortunately missing his bare toes.
Connor snapped his cell phone shut, communicator-style. “Beam me the fuck up, Scotty,” he said with a huge grin.
Murphy opened the door the rest of the way, turned off the cell phone and threw it at Connor’s head. “You fuck! Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”
“What, and spoil the surprise?”
Murphy was about to strike Connor about the head and shoulders when he realized that Connor had not, in fact, been wanking after inexcusably invoking the Next Generation, but had been mounting the four flights of stairs to this dingy hotel room, probably two at a time.
He hooked two fingers in Connor’s belt and yanked him through the door.
Murphy’s head hit the wall with a satisfying thump at the same moment Connor’s lips and teeth smashed into his mouth.
Fuck. Yeah. Okay. That made up for Connor’s little deception.
Connor tugged the robe down over Murphy’s shoulders. “Couldn’t stay away. Know I was supposed to stay on t’other side of town, but how could I?” Connor panted between licks at Murphy’s cheek and shoulder and ear. “Knowing you were here, lying in bed, naked and hard.” He nipped at Murphy’s neck. “Sweatin’. Fuck, you taste good, Murphy.”
Murphy threw his head back and closed his eyes, concentrating on the wet heat of Connor’s tongue and breath. “Not naked,” he muttered. “Have my boxers on.”
Connor fell to his knees and shoved the boxers down. “There. Ya happy?” He licked his lips. “Prepare the engines.”
“Aye, sir,” Murphy choked when Connor’s lips brushed over his slit. “She’ll be up and running in no time.”
Murphy stopped breathing when Connor’s mouth surrounded his cockhead. There is no oxygen in space.
He wanted to come right away, right now. It would be rude, but it wouldn’t be like he was leaving Connor hanging. He’d take a few minutes to recover and then return the favour.
It wasn’t like Connor was giving him a choice in the matter. He was sucking furiously, as if his very life depended on making Murphy come in the next ten seconds.
Nine... Eight… Seven…
“Aw, fuck, she can’t take the pressure!”
Connor did that thing where he pressed his knuckles up between Murphy’s legs, rubbing between his balls and his arsehole, the thing that made Murphy see stars.
Six… Five… Four…
Murphy moaned and reached for support. One hand found the doorknob, the other found Connor’s spiky hair.
Three… Two…
“She’s breaking up!”
One…
Connor moaned deeply and the vibration did the trick.
Zero.
Murphy had fucking ignition.
Jaysus, the room spun and it really did feel like zero gravity.
Connor eased up the pressure and Murphy could feel every spurt, Connor’s cheek muscles massaging the sides of his cock, lips pressing rhythmically around the base.
No one on earth could do a quickie blow job like Connor.
And no one in the universe could look as delicious as Connor did when he looked up as Murphy with his mouth still full of cock.
Connor slid his mouth off Murphy’s cock and stood up.
“ ‘She’s breaking up?” he smirked. “You get mad at me for doing a little Picard and you’re doing the Six fucking Million Dollar Man?”
Murphy shrugged. “What? You don’t want to try out my bionic cock? Fine. I’ll go find Lindsay Wagner…”
Connor pinned Murphy to the door and ground his cock into Murphy’s hip. “I was hoping for a bionic arsehole, actually.”
The room started to spin again. “Yeah,” he said weakly, “Programmed to drain the enemy.”
Connor licked Murphy’s cheek. “In slow motion.”
Murphy whimpered.
“Too bad I can’t remember who the enemy was on that show. Can you?”
“Naw. We’ll have to go back to Star Trek. You can be the Klingon warrior…”
Back to Boondock Saints
Back to Fandoms
|
