(no subject)

[simon-lloyd.livejournal.com]

Title: A Good Man
Author: Simon Lloyd
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hector/Murphy/Paris (dear God, heeeelp!)
Warnings: Foul language, incest implied (a‘duh), shameless sock perving, utter insanity, and angst.
Feedback: Please.
Disclaimer: Murphy belongs to Troy Duffy; Hector and Paris to Homer. As for the smut? I apologize for nothing.
Summary: Hector comforts Murphy at the Men of Myth convention.
Notes: I don’t know who to blame for this one. Several people mentioned a foursome (Connor/Murphy/Hector/Paris,) but if I had attempted to do that, my brain would have exploded. So I wrote this.
Beta: The kiwi-flavored elf_skitzo, who wept with me through this.

x-posted in naked_brunch, men_of_myth, and crossoverfic


___

A Good Man

Hector and Paris had arrived at the convention late in the evening, and Paris had promptly disappeared. There was no doubt in Hector’s mind that his brother was offering his hospitality to some unsuspecting lord.

Having had unpacked, Hector decided to explore the hotel and see if he encountered anyone he knew.

In the hotel lobby, he examined some of the pamphlets at the front desk. There were offers for paragliding, scuba diving, and belly-dancing lessons. Hector prayed Paris had not seen the belly-dancing brochures.

“S’cuse me. Can I page someone?”

Hector looked up from his reading and saw a young man standing by the front desk. His elbow was on the ledge, and he was half-sprawled across the counter. The woman behind the desk walked over to him. “Is this an emergency?”

The man looked thoughtful as he chewed on his lip. “I just need ta’ find someone.”

“I’m sorry, we only page people if it’s an emergency.” She smiled apologetically and disappeared into a back room.

Hector watched the man sigh and push away from the counter. He stood there, staring off into space, chewing on the side of his thumb.

Hector set aside the pamphlet and approached him. “May I be of some assistance?” he offered. Hector knew what it felt like to lose track of someone. Paris frequently disappeared, sometimes for days.

The young man slowly snapped out of his daze and looked up at him. His eyes - a startling shade of blue - caught Hector off guard. “Do ya work here?” he asked and Hector smiled.

“No, but I overheard your conversation.” Looking slightly dejected, the man sighed and lowered his hand. The cuff of his sleeve slid down and covered his fingers.

“Naw, it’s nothin’...I jist need ta’ find me brother.” Though he said it dismissively, Hector read his comment differently. The young man looked utterly shaken.

“I’m Hector,” he said, holding out his hand, and the man smiled weakly as he shook it.

“Murphy,” the young man responded softly. The name sounded lovely with his accent.

“Murphy,” Hector repeated, thinking the name sounded better when Murphy said it.

“Aye.” He paused, and then released Hector’s hand. Hector furrowed his brow a bit when Murphy appeared to pale.

“Paris is yer brother.” Hector wanted to groan from exasperation. If Paris had bothered Murphy already, he was going to throttle him. He nodded, wanting to approach the subject of Paris cautiously.

“Do ya’ know where he is?” Murphy asked, sounding and looking so hopeful that Hector felt terrible when he said he did not.

There was a long stretch of silence between them, and Murphy shifted his weight from leg-to-leg, gazing around the lobby. Fearing he might leave, Hector spoke.

“If my brother has somehow offended you, I apologize.” Murphy laughed loudly, and smiled. Hector found himself smiling too. Murphy looked even more lovely when he was amused.

“Whaddya gonna do? Kill ‘im?” His voice was teasing, but he was still smiling, so Hector played along.

“Of course not. I can lock him in his room.” Murphy laughed again, leaning closer to Hector as he did. Then he rocked back on his heels and took a step back. His smile slowly faded, and he looked as though he was trying to look serious.

“Bet you could, too. Yer a big fucker.” Murphy eyed him thoughtfully. “How tall are ya?”

Hector smiled slowly.

Murphy mirrored his expression. “Fucken huge..”

___

Murphy and Hector had remained in the lobby, talking and getting better acquainted. Then Hector had invited him to his room to continue their conversation.

He felt like it was the polite thing to do since Murphy seemed disturbed by the disappearance of his brother. And he did genuinely find the man’s company agreeable.

As they rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, Murphy grew quiet.

By the time they reached his room, Hector felt distressed. Murphy was no longer smiling, and he looked pale again.

When they were inside his suite, Murphy walked to one of the large windows and gazed out over the grounds. His fingertips brushed aside the curtains, which billowed gently from the breeze passing the half-open screen.

“What troubles you?” Hector asked, remaining where he stood.

He watched Murphy’s broad shoulders rise up, and fall down sharply. Hector did not believe him for a second. Something was very wrong.

“When did ya last see Paris?” Murphy asked.

Hector opened his mouth to reply to the question, but then realized why Murphy sounded so dejected before he had received an answer. Paris is with his brother.

Hector sighed and looked down to the floor. Sometimes, he wanted to choke Paris. Paris, who thought nothing of others’ suffering. He found himself wanting to comfort Murphy, wishing to say something to take the misery from his voice. Instead, he asked the first question that came to his mind.

“What is your brother’s name?” Murphy didn’t answer for a long time. When he did, his voice was so hushed that Hector had to strain to hear him.

“Connor.” Hector moved closer to him. Murphy kept talking, louder this time. “Maybe if I looked like a fucken girl-” he said with such childish spite and open hurt that Hector forgot to defend Paris.

Hector was filled with a sense of wonder when he realized why Murphy was so upset. Murphy and Connor were like he and Paris. Except he was not on the verge of tears, knowing Paris was with another man. There was a difference.

Paris wanted sex from Connor. Murphy wanted something more.

Feeling more lost than ever, Hector decided not to analyze the deep despair he felt at that realization.

“Murphy…” Hector began as he walked over to the window. He did not know what to say, so he wrapped his fingers around the young man’s biceps and squeezed gently. Murphy did not flinch. He felt frozen in place.

So Hector was very surprised when the Irishman suddenly spun out of his grasp and threw his arms around his neck. Murphy’s mouth was on his - hot and wet - his tongue licking and pushing furiously.

Hector nearly stumbled backwards from the force of the body against his own. He turned his face to the side. “Murphy!” Hector cried, trying to help the young man gain his senses even as he wrapped arms around his waist and held him.

“Please,” Murphy whispered, sounding so sweet and helpless that Hector wanted to shatter into a thousand pieces.

Hector decided he would give Murphy anything he desired; anything he had not already given to Paris.

Their tongues met before their lips and Hector moaned deeply into Murphy’s mouth. He lifted the smaller man off the floor and slowly backed toward the bed. Murphy’s hand was on the side of his face, stroking and combing at his hair.

The Irishman bit at his lips, and Hector sat on the bed, rolling them to the side so they could lay together.

Murphy reached beneath his robe and touched his cock. He wrapped his fingers around it and gasped against Hector’s lips. Hector groaned in response and gripped Murphy hard, holding him against his body.

“..was right. Fucken huge,” he whispered against Hector’s lips.

Murphy kicked off his shoes, then kicked his way out of his jeans. When he removed his shirt, Hector moaned.

The man had perfect skin, and Hector felt the urge to bathe every inch of it with his tongue. He quickly disrobed and reached for him.

Hector gripped Murphy and pulled him on top of his body. Murphy moaned approvingly and kissed his lips. They ground against each other until Hector rolled again and pinned Murphy beneath him.

When they parted for breath, Murphy smiled softly, and Hector felt something swell within his chest. It seemed different to be laying on top of him, nude. It was intimate to take their time, to kiss him, to have Murphy smile like that. He smiled as if Hector was the only other person in his world.

Hector tried to suppress the thought that Murphy’s mind might be elsewhere.

Murphy leaned up for another kiss, and Hector could not deny him. They writhed as Hector steadily thrust his tongue into Murphy’s mouth, and the young man moaned and suckled firmly.

His legs fought their way from beneath Hector’s and wound around his calves. Hector felt Murphy’s toes grind against the muscles of his legs, and he realized that the youth was still wearing his socks.

Murphy held the sides of Hector’s face as they kissed, his fingers sliding back to furl in his hair and tug demandingly as they bit and panted between embraces.

Hector was completely lost as he began grinding against Murphy’s wonderfully firm body. His cock slid against Murphy’s stomach, making it wet and Murphy whispered against his cheek.

The words made Hector’s massive body quake.

“Hector, make me feel good...make it good, please.” He gripped the sides of Murphy’s face and kissed him again.

When their cocks touched, they moaned at the same time, and Murphy again smiled against his lips. The smile was an invitation, and Hector felt the breath catch in his throat. He pictured exactly what he would do in a matter of seconds.

Lubrication, legs over his shoulders, push inside, pound into Murphy until the man wailed for him.

Hector rolled to the side and opened the drawer to the small bedside table.

As he rummaged through it, he glanced to the dressing mirror hanging on the wall. It was angled so it reflected the hotel door. Paris was standing there, looking back at Hector’s reflection.

He froze, his mouth open, eyes straining from his skull. Hector wondered how long Paris had been there.

Murphy shifted on the bed, laughing nervously, uncertainly as he gazed at Hector’s back. “What?”

Hector’s heart stopped beating in his chest. Murphy.

Murphy sat up. When he did, he looked at the mirror.

Hector could not move fast enough to grab him.

Murphy flew off the bed, and Hector heard Paris shriek his name. However, he was on him before the man could lay a blow upon his brother. Hector yanked Murphy back sharply, but the Irishman only lunged at Paris again, screaming, swearing, flailing like a madman.

Their naked bodies collided painfully each time Murphy threw himself against Hector, like water trying to break through a dam. He tried to reach over, around, through Hector.

Eventually, the irate sounds formed into words. “Ya fucken whore! Worthless piece of shite! I’ll kill you! I’ll rip yer fucken head off!”

Hector had laid out men for saying less regarding Paris, but he did not want to hit Murphy. Instead, he finally gripped Murphy around the waist, lifted him, and brought him back to the bed.

The transportation was not easy, especially with Murphy hitting him, clawing at him, biting him when he had the chance. Hector got him on the bed, and laid atop Murphy. The youth was strong, but he was heavy, and Murphy had nearly drained the energy from his body with the fit he was throwing.

Hector gripped his wrists, pinning them above his head.

“Ya fucken dirty trick!” Murph howled, his voice cracking. He thrashed beneath Hector, kicking his shins and straining against Hector’s iron grip.

“Murphy!” Hector yelled, picking up his wrists and slamming them to the bed again, hoping to free Murphy from the delirious rage consuming him.

Murphy thrashed like a wild animal beneath him, and Hector swallowed the groan building in his chest when the young man’s thigh pushed against his erection. He was amazed that he had remained hard through the entire ordeal.

Hector looked at Paris who seemed so aggravatingly serene that he felt the urge to let Murphy go, just to see his calm façade shaken. But Hector would not let Murphy go, and Paris knew that.

“If you fucken touched him!” Murphy shouted, tears brimming in his eyes. He made another noise- a terrible, growling moan. But he was no longer thrashing so uncontrollably.

Murphy writhed beneath Hector’s body, and Paris took a step towards the bed.

“You have nothing to fear.” Hector heard Paris’s soft voice in his ear.

Hector felt a familiar sense of dread when he saw his brother’s face. Paris’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes had darkened. They were no longer brown, but an ethereal black.

His fingers were still looped around Murphy’s wrists, but loosely. Fortunately, Murphy didn’t seem ready to spring from the bed anymore. He laid there, panting, looking at Paris.

Hector was not surprised when Paris began to disrobe slowly. He was amazed that his brother had not undressed sooner, but Paris was executing a degree of self-control for some reason.

Hector looked away from Paris when the robe pooled around his feet and looked to Murphy.

Murphy’s eyes were glazed, his lips parted slightly as he looked at Paris. Knowing they were well past the point of fighting, Hector released him and moved to sit on the bed. Murphy sat up slowly, his gaze never leaving Paris.

Hector watched his brother slowly approach the bed, every inch of his tanned flesh gleaming as if he had covered himself in oil. Hector decided, knowing Paris and his elaborate grooming habits, he probably had.

Paris sat on the bed and folded a leg before him so he could be closer to Murphy. “I cannot take Connor from you,” Paris whispered, taking Murphy’s hand into his own.

He sounded so kind and nurturing that Hector felt as though the man sitting with them could not possibly be his brother.

“Where is he?” Murphy asked, sounding very young and lost. Hector held his breath. Paris could very easily hurt Murphy; his whims would determine what would happen next, but if he wished to be cruel, he would have to deal with Hector.

“I am sure he is looking for you,” Paris whispered, reaching forth to brush Murphy’s hair back from his brow. “He left to find you,” he added. Paris had not denied sleeping with Connor. But Murphy had not asked.

Murphy simply seemed relieved that his brother was not harmed.

Paris made a soft, hushing sound when Murphy hunched over. He watched his brother kiss his brow, and then his cheeks, and his lips. Paris slid his fingers through Murphy’s hair and then touched his bare shoulders, rubbing them, moving his hands over them.

Paris glanced at Hector and then leaned down to kiss Murphy again, who responded hesitantly. Hector was amazed Murphy was still fighting his desire. Few maintained such stubborn restraint when Paris expressed interest in them.

“You are both so beautiful,” Paris sighed, and Hector did not have a doubt in his mind that he meant what he said. Paris leaned back and cradled Murphy’s hand, gazing down at it.

Murphy was still breathing heavily - from the fight; from the kiss, and Hector felt drunk as he watched his bare chest, covered in sweat, heave up and down.

Paris smiled with unfathomable confidence as he looked from Murphy’s hand to his face.

Hector felt as though time stood still when his brother brought the man’s hand upward and eyed the tattoo there.

Then Paris opened his mouth and pushed Murphy’s finger inside, taking it deep until he had reached the second knuckle; until some of the black letters had disappeared into his mouth.

His cheeks sunk as he began to suck, and the sound that left Murphy’s lips made Hector’s heart skip a beat.

Hector moved closer to Murphy and knelt behind him. He leaned down and kissed his shoulder, and the side of his neck, and Murphy sighed, his head tilting to the side to give him more room.

“Do you desire him, Hector?” His lips still flush against Murphy’s flesh, Hector paused. Then he slowly leaned back and looked at his brother. Paris’s features were completely schooled - unreadable.

Eventually, Paris reached forth and gripped Murphy’s erection, stroking him slowly. Murphy swore and hunched over. “He desires you, brother,” Paris whispered.

Hector could not look away from Paris, nor could he move, even though he wanted to touch Murphy so badly his body ached. Paris sighed breathily and released Murphy’s cock. “Hector, the tube is in the bedside table. Murphy, kneel on the bed, please.”

Hector and Murphy moved at the same time. Hector reached into the open drawer and grabbed the tube.

Murphy knelt on the bed, breathing shakily. He slumped forward and fisted his cock, stroking himself. Hector gazed at Murphy’s pale back; at the ridges of his spine.

“Prepare him, Hector.” Hector instantly obeyed, as if Paris had trained him for this moment.

The curve of Murphy’s back was beautiful, and Hector pushed the man forward onto his forearm so he could see his rear. Murphy whimpered and Hector felt his cock lurch in response.

Hector slicked himself and then pushed a finger inside Murphy, preparing him. Murphy moaned, just as Hector had imagined he would. He consciously avoided looking at Paris who was kneeling beside Murphy, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck.

He added a second finger and Murphy gasped, arching his back. He pushed against Hector’s fingers, trying to work them deeper. Hector could see Paris’s hands, touching Murphy’s shoulders and then disappearing to touch his chest.

Murphy tensed around his fingers and gasped, and Hector fought the urge to gaze over his shoulder to see what Paris had done. “Fuck me,” Murphy grunted suddenly, and Hector moved.

He pushed against Murphy’s back, his arm braced to the side of him, while he gripped his cock and aimed it between his pale cheeks.

Paris breathed heavily as he constantly touched Murphy’s body, but Murphy seemed unaware of everything except the movement of Hector against him.

He moaned and pushed back against Hector when the head of his cock found the right spot. Hector pushed inside slowly, growling when he felt the head pop inside. Murphy mewled and arched his back, spreading his thighs farther apart.

Hector glanced at Paris and saw his brother licking at his lips and eyeing Murphy hungrily. “Oh, fuck,” Murphy moaned as Hector pushed inside, and for a moment, Hector doubted he would be able to fit entirely until his hips finally touched Murphy’s ass.

Murphy trembled beneath him when he eased forward, covering his back.

Hector hated that Paris was watching. If he was alone with Murphy, he had some kind of control over the situation. But with his brother present, Hector would lose himself. He would wreck Murphy.

Braced upon his hands, Hector began to thrust with deep, smooth strokes. Murphy made hiccupping sounds each time he thrust forth, moaning and wailing so desperately that Hector thought he might lose himself just from listening.

“Harder!” Murphy cried. Hector prayed he could control himself. He was so aware of Paris’s presence- of his eyes on both of them- that Hector wanted to run from the room. But Murphy felt too good to leave him.

“Harder, Hector.” Hector looked to Paris who was staring back at him. He groaned and shut his eyes.

Hector pressed against Murphy’s back and drove his hips forward. The flesh of Murphy’s ass rippled beneath the force of it, and he heard Murphy shouting and moaning in response.

Hector hid his face from Paris and pressed his lips against the back of Murphy’s neck where he could somewhat stifle his desperate groans and grunts.

He began to slide along Murphy’s back as they sweated, and Hector’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, lapping against Murphy’s shoulder to taste the salt there.

Suddenly, Murphy yowled and Hector nearly fell off him in surprise. His eyes opened and he gazed at the back of the man’s head. Had he hurt him?

Then Hector saw Paris, his legs, hips, stomach, and chest laid perpendicular to them, his head hidden beneath Murphy’s body. A pitiful sound left Hector when he realized Paris was sucking on Murphy.

Murphy moaned uncontrollably as Hector thrust into him, pushing his hips forward and feeding Paris his cock. “Oh God!” Murphy cried as he tried to thrust back against Hector, like he wanted more inside him.

Hector eased back and knelt between Murphy’s legs. Gripping his waist, he pounded into him hard, Murphy’s body bouncing forth from the force of it.

“Ah!” Murphy wailed, howling incoherently, his voice hanging in the air as if he couldn’t control the noises escaping him.

Hector slumped forward again and bit down on Murphy’s shoulder when he felt him tremble and tighten around him. He knew Murphy had come undone. He knew Paris tasted him when he heard his brother moan.

Hector knew Paris was sucking greedily, swallowing it all.

Murphy’s body went slack and Hector continued to buck atop him, moaning endlessly when it was his turn to break. He felt as if the euphoric waves would never end as he spilt his seed inside Murphy.

When it was over, Hector slowly pulled out, and Murphy moaned softly. He eased onto his heels, kneeling there as he watched Murphy fall to the side, and roll onto his back. He was still moaning softly.

Hector looked to Paris who was rubbing his own seed into the flesh of his stomach. Paris looked at him and Hector could not look away.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Hector?” Paris asked casually, his gaze trailing down Hector’s body. Then he looked back to his face.

Hector sighed and moved toward the headboard so he could lay down. He felt as though he could sleep for ages.

He remained perfectly still when Paris laid near him and pushed against the side of his body. Hector breathed deeply, hoping to calm the frantic beating of his heart.

Paris kissed his shoulder and then whispered against his ear.

“My magnificent Hector.”

Hector closed his eyes, and prayed for sleep to take him. By the time it did, he had Paris cradled in his arms, his head resting against Hector’s chest.

___

When he awoke, he saw Murphy dressing as he stood by the window. He looked over to the bed and saw Hector gazing at him.

Murphy silently moved to the bed and knelt beside it. His smile was sweet and slight as he looked at Paris, and then him.

Hector allowed the young man to touch his hair, his cheek, and remained still when Murphy leaned down to kiss his hand. He looked into Murphy’s eyes which reminded him so much of the sea.

“Connor is a good man.” Hector did not know what possessed him to say it. He did not know Connor; he had never met the man. He had no reason to defend a man he did not know.

Murphy didn’t look startled or confused. He looked as if Hector had said the most obvious thing in the world. Murphy nodded, kissed Hector’s hand again, and stood.

He lingered there, his gaze flickering from Hector to Paris.

There was a strange wisdom in his eyes that made Hector want to grab Murphy and beg him to say everything he saw; everything he knew.

But Murphy left then without a word uttered.
___

Paris awoke a short time later and lifted his head to gaze at Hector. His eyes were their normal color; his smile soft and sweet, without malice.

Hector touched his cheek and leaned down to kiss him.

___

Additional Notes:

- “My magnificent Hector” seems strangely familiar to me. Should this be a direct quote in anyone’s Troy fiction, I apologize. If someone has already used it, let me know and I’ll credit you. Or I can just change the line.
- I was shocked that this fic didn’t contain explicit (tw)incest, but hey, odd things happen sometimes. The award for dirtiest comment of the day goes to elf_skitzo, who had this to say in response to the lack of incest in this story.

“…unless you think of Hector vicariously fucking Paris's mouth through Murph.”

I died on the spot.