The first time Murphy tried to give Connor a blowjob, they were both sixteen years old, and Murphy ended up puking all over Connor -- Ma had the three of them staying in this beds-by-the-week flop joint in the Lower East Side while she got things sorted out, figured out what was going on and whether the boys could show their faces in public without being jacked back to the warm, loving arms of the Queen, and the walls were incredibly thin there. They could hear the wino upstairs singing to his gin bottle at night; they could hear the sizzle of the eggs on the iron when the family next door made food. Connor was teaching himself bits and snatches of Pakistani.
So they had to be quiet, and they also had to figure out where they were going to do this: they couldn't lay on the floor because the floor was absolutely filthy. Murph categorically refused to go down on his knees. The card table where they ate wouldn't hold their weight; the bed creaked like crazy, and it was also where Ma slept at night since the boys took turns sleeping on the ironing board and in the one chair in the whole fucking room. Connor took the chair one night; Murphy took it the other.
They consequently ended up by the radiator on the tail end of July. In Philly. Two little Irish boys, dying in the heat and humidity.
Heat was still leaking out from under the cap of the radiator, and to make the room even passingly bearable, they had to open up the windows -- it made the room as noisy as hell since they could hear every passing car, truck, and hot dog stand on the street below, but it was the only way, and since it was the only place, Connor knocked off his shoes, pulled off his pants, and hopped up on the ledge behind the radiator, bracing himself against the window freame. There were curtains and air and nothing else behind his back.
Fourth floor of the flophouse. There wasn't even a screen, and a big honking freight truck, from the sound of it, clattered over a manhole cover.
Connor's dick was poking out of his underpants. Murphy eyed it, then came over to the radiator and sort of bent over at the waist.
He licked his lips, opened his mouth.
Connor's heart was suddenly pounding so hard that he couldn't hear the traffic, and then Murphy looked up and said, while looking up at him through his black lashes with those blue eyes that nobody else in the entire family had -- Murph said something like, "Hope you don't get dizzy sitting up there like that."
Connor doesn't know. His heart was beating too heard for him to really make out the words, so he had to read Murphy's lips -- soft mouth, pink lips, tongue inside, and when he was sweating so hard that his hair looked almost black, when it was practically a liquid layer on his skin and he hadn't eaten anything for about sixteen hours because it was too fucking hot to even think about digesting, the promise of more heat shouldn't have done anything at all for him.
Murphy's mouth. The radiator cap banging around, whistling a little. The street below, the sounds of the street, the way the ledge pressed up into his thighs, and his brother's mouth on his dick, soft and hesitant and, even despite the fact that it was probably at least ninety eight point six outside and definitely far hotter than the inside of a human within the walls the tenement housing -- still. Murphy's mouth was so hot that Connor could feel it like a bolt up the spine. Murphy's tongue tracing over the head of his dick. Just the faintest bump of back teeth when Murphy finally worked up the courage to take Connor's dick into his mouth.
In retrospect, maybe Connor shouldn't have tried so hard to keep quiet. Ma came home and saw the bitemarks all over his forearm, hit Murph all around the head and shoulders for biting his brother. Any noises that Connor made were probably lost in the racket of the cars, buses, people passing down below, and maybe then, Connor wouldn't have had to express his enthusiasm by thrusting a lot and jerking his hips and trying to cram as much of himself down Murphy's throat as possible.
Eventually, Murphy pulled off and threw up all over Connor's stomach. It was the combination of the position, the crappy food, the heat, total inexperience, and the fact that Connor was twitching and bucking around on the windowsill like some kind of demented blond jackrabbit when Murphy was trying to give his first blowjob. And to this day, hundreds of blowjobs and handjobs and assfuckings later, he still makes fun of the fact that Connor came even after Murphy threw up on him.
Connor's reply to this is, though, is pretty effective -- he points out the fact that Murphy took him aside, after dinner, and offered to let Connor sleep on the ironing board for the rest of the long hot motherfucking summer and take the chair himself for the rest of the summer if only Connor would let him suck his dick later that night.
. . . she said explicit. She didn't say anything about it being explicit and not, you know. Revolting. XD