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Connor, Murphy, Greenly
By : Aja
Category: 1 through F > Boondock Saints
Views: 1435 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own Boondock Saints, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
- 1
- Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Boondock Saints characters belong to Troy Duffy, not me. I'm just playing with them. It's fiction, eh?
Summary: The BDS boys have a bit of 'personal' time. ~shifty eyes~ What?
Word Count: 350 for my favourite boondock boys. ~grin~
Note: For the Come What May challenge. :D Aha. Ha. Is not beta'd. Sorry.
Connor
Connor collapses in the mud, laughing.
"Y'stayin' out here in the rain, Connor?" Matthew asks. Connor just grins widely, nods. Matthew snorts and heads off after the rest of the 'team', calling back, "Y'are a madman, McManus!"
"I'll let me Ma know to ship me off to the loony bin!" Connor calls back. He shivers, the rain soaking through his thin school shirt. His hand rests on the football, though he's pretty sure it's going to float away before too long. Fuckin' rain. He looks across the field, sees it empty. Knows he has about fifteen minutes before anyone comes out here again. He doesn't waste any time, shoves his hand down his trousers and into his underpants, curls his fingers around his cock.
He closes his eyes, feels the rain still pelting his eyelids, loves the sensation. He clutches the top of the ball beside him, fingers digging into worn leather as his other hand starts to stroke. Quickly, because he doesn't need this to last, just needs to get off, release the tension that always builds up in him during a game.
He turns his head to the side because his open mouth had been filling with rainwater; he turns and he spits, stares at the patched-up football until it swims out of focus and he's gasping, hitching into his own hand, wishing it was somebody else's. Someone like-
"Murphy! Fuck!" Connor's hips buce coe comes fast and hard even as he's trying to scrabble upright to a sitting position. Murphy just stares down at him, face slowly breaking into a wide grin.
"Thinkin' of me, were ya?"
Connor pants and looks away from Murphy's face, wet and shiny with rain. He struggles to his feet, legs like jelly, and shoves at Murphy. Gives the football an angry, although somewhat pathetic, kick and grunts.
"Were ya?" Murphy persists, grabs Connor's chin, forcing him to look and there's something... Something else in Murphy's eyes that Connor doesn't really want to think too much about.
"Fuck off, Murph. And don't you dare tell anyone or I'll beat ya face in." - 1
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