Author's Notes: Thank you to Flavored Sugar for the Beta Review.
George blinked awake to a distinct rustling sound from the bed next to his, the slow persistent rasp of a hand on sheets. It was all he could do to keep from laughing at his brother. George rolled over, smiling into the near dark.
"What are you doing?" his voice smirked. The sound momentarily stilled. Fred answered, after a pause:
"What do you think I'm doing?"
"You mean, what do I -know- you're doing," George laughed.
There was a thoughtful silence. Then George saw Fred give an indistinct shrug in the half-light, and the sound began again with the same steady rhythm. George rolled onto his back and shook his head with a snort.
A few minutes later, the rhythm changed and Fred's breathing grew husky.
"Fred. You're gonna have to either hurry it up, or be a hell of a lot quieter, 'cause you're giving me a problem," George complained.
"So? I could help you with that if you like."
What?! Okay, okay. That was a good one. George's 'older' brother didn't usually get him the way the way he surprised most people. George considered himself officially unshockable; until now. He laughed, because he could tell from Fred's voice he was - actually, serious was never the word for Fred - sincere.
"Fred, you naughty, naughty boy! People would be appalled!" said George in mock disgust.
"Shocked in fact."
"There could be jail time," George said.
"Or worse: public humiliation -" Fred offered.
" - embarrassment enough for the whole family," added George.
"Mum would kill us," Fred pointed out with certainty.
"Dig us up; then kill us again," George agreed.
There was a pregnant pause.
"So. What are you waiting for?" Fred asked.
George rolled over to rummage in a box under the bed, his answer slightly muffled, "Hold on, hold on - just getting the oil!" he sang out.
"You keep oil in here? You dirty bastard!" Fred was appalled.
"Who woke up who?" George said archly over his shoulder.
He dug around in the mess for the incriminating Potion jar that was not filled with Potion. The jar was Charmed to never run out of whatever it contained, and oil was one thing George needed a never-ending supply of. He found it and rolled back to his pillow. He signaled Fred before tossing it to him.
"Admit it. You had a hard on anyway." Fred caught the jar fairly well, considering, though he bobbled it to the bed. George heard it thump slightly.
"True enough," George admitted casually.
"Tsk, have you no shame?" Now it was Fred's turn to feign disgust. But he unstopped the jar eagerly.
"Oh, give me that oil," George demanded, and motioned for the Potion jar. Fred tossed it over as he stroked a liberal amount on himself. George caught it and added: "Just for that, you get to be on the bottom."
"-Bottom?-" Fred squeaked in a tiny voice.
George grinned triumphantly. This was a game he and Fred had played since, well, since forever, trying to shock each other. He couldn't let Fred be one up on him for long.
"Ha! I knew it! Didn't get as far with Angelina as you said, did you? I knew you lied."
Even in the dark, George could tell Fred was red-faced. There were certain things you knew about your brother. No one else had noticed how touchy a subject Angelina had become since their last date; and no one else could come near the subject with a ten-foot family-sized broomstick either. Eventually George would have the whole story from his brother.
"Hey, just because she's not easy like you!" Fred quipped.
Fred already had blocking forearms up before George launched himself, leaping the small space from his bed.
They howled and laughed as they wrestled. Fred was damned strong, but then, so was George. Fred squirmed free, kicking the wall as he brought a pillow up into George's face. Something knocked to the floor with a minor crash and the dresser rocked precariously onto three legs.
George ripped the weapon from his brother's hands and pinned him with his shoulder - the wall rattled dangerously from Fred's second kick, while Fred was wrenched back to the bed, slippery in his brother's oiled hands.
The house was rather flimsy after all, compared to the two of them. These, of course, were all normal sounds from their room. The Ghoul in the attic chimed in and banged heavy metal chains, happy to hear a racket at an annoying time of night.
There came a half-hearted kick from the other side of the wall, and Percy's muffled groan, "...shut -up-...!"
Fred finally gave in and fell limp to the blankets; they panted with breathless laughter. The Ghoul kept banging of course, but most Weasleys could sleep through that. George shushed Fred, putting a finger to his brother's lips with a smile meant to charm.
"Shhh. We'll have to be really, really quiet you know."
"No, no, let's moan. Loudly. I mean if anyone ought to be shocked, it's Percy."
George couldn't agree more. "What if Ron walks in?"
"Obliviate. He may never recover otherwise."
They didn't bother to consider locking and soundproofing Charms, though they'd learned quite a few. They knew their mother had the house thoroughly Warded against such. The moment one went up, she'd know it. The twins were very curious just what Bill had done to make mum so careful.
George wondered how far he and Fred were going to go, really. It was often difficult even for them to tell when they were kidding and when they weren't. Naturally. Since they were always kidding. One thing was sure; George wasn't going to take Fred's teasing if he 'chickened out.'
In fact... George's eyes gleamed down at his brother. As he kept Fred properly pinned, he waggled his eyebrows... and upped the ante. His hand gradually pushed down Fred's underwear, first one side, then the other. Fred's eyes widened.
Then George plucked the Potion jar from the floor, glad it hadn't broken and thus joined the burns and stains on the carpet (Mum refused to replace the carpet again, with refreshing logic they thought). With a fresh dollop of oil, he reached down between them. He kept his eyes carefully on Fred's. His hand slicked along Fred's cock, exactly the length and shape of his own, and slid along it as familiar as an old friend. Fred's mouth fell open and Fred tried to breathe.
"I'll do this, on one condition..." Fred interrupted in a choked voice, snuggling into the bed.
"Oh, conditions now?" George stroked again. Fred lolled back onto the pillow with a choked laugh. "Aren't you the one who suggested this?" George stroked again, enjoying his brother's discomfort.
"I'm not the one with the permanent hard on," Fred pointed out.
"That's 'cause you're always stroking it in our bedroom!" George said in disbelief.
"And the bathroom... " Fred smiled with satisfaction.
"Oh, that's it. Your shower time's officially after mine from now on." George let go and leaned up on an elbow. "Okay. What are your conditions?" He had to hear this.
"In a word..." Fred put on a formal pretentious voice, and paused dramatically. "...re-ci-pro-ci-ty."
"Hoo! Five syllables! I'm duly impressed, sir. I'll go fetch your glasses from Percy's room."
Fred cuffed him. "Deal?" he asked eagerly.
"Of course!" George was surprised. Why even ask? George stretched out lazily next to his twin, his worn and ripped T-shirt rolling up, baring his stomach comfortably. He handed Fred the jar.
"Now do me, baby." George helpfully pulled his shorts to his knees.
Fred wrapped his hands around a very oh-so-wonderful place, and a blissful smile spread across George's face. His eyes half-lidded and he groaned. Oh, good god... he would never complain again about Fred's all-important practice sessions in their bedroom. Well worth the bother. Fred's hand made a rhythmic wet sound.
"You know," Fred's now annoyingly distracting voice said in a prim imitation of Percy, "being identical has its advantages in our...situation." He stroked George expertly, and the Percy imitation was perfect - and utterly bizarre under the circumstances. Vintage Fred. "...not to mention my being the undisputed King of wankers - " Fred continued.
"M'lord..." George managed though most his wits had gone south.
" - which means you're in for a real treat." Fred said cheerily.
"Hmm-hnm... my king..." George was not very comprehensible.
Fred grinned wickedly. Then he tweaked a certain spot.
"Oh - !" George moaned and arched. "You're not a King, you are a God... why ever did Angelina throw you over?"
"Now there's gratitude!" Fred griped. "Some subjects are off limits in the temple. If, perchance, you want to be sucked off."
George sat up. "You're going to suck me off?!"
Damn! Fred got him again. That was twice in one night.
"Ah, the gods are unpredictable, capricious even," Fred waggled a finger.
"That's three syllables. Cough up the thesaurus," George patted Fred on the back. "There's a good lad. Before you hurt yourself."
Fred graphically mimed heaving and throwing up a large book. Or hairball - it was hard to tell which.
"Oh. Good. Now I'm really in the mood for love," George complained, gesturing to the affected anatomy. Indeed, after several minutes of that unfortunately convincing performance he was nowhere near hard.
Fred didn't answer. In fact he was silent, which sent a thrill of fear through George. Uh-oh. In the haze of the dark over him, a wicked twinkle sparkled on the surface of Fred's eyes, as Fred slid to the end of the bed. George knew that look even in the dark, and that silence. It always foreboded a very large explosion or -
"Augh - !" George gasped.
- something very, very naughty.
Well, he was hard now, the vague thought skittered across George's mind. He was enveloped in the liquid heat of Fred's mouth, soft, inviting him to press more. Fred stilled his hips, his warm hands like a brand on his skin and George whimpered. A hard male hand wrapped around the base, and tingly delicious patterns traced around his head, under the rim, along the shaft. Firm and strong. George's hands fisted in the sheets. With heartfelt, if rather indistinct apologies to his girlfriend, George had to admit his brother was a lot better at this.
When Fred came up for air, George joked in a bare whisper:
"There is a God... and his name is: Fred."
Fred sat up, slid back to the pillow eyeing his brother's recovery with amusement. George's chest was heaving.
"I'll ask on bended knee... once I've had some Skele-gro to all regrow the bones in my body... " George began.
"Yes? Darling?" Fred smirked in a falsetto voice, fluttering his eyelashes fetchingly.
"Will you marry me?" George pleaded.
"On one condition..."
"Uh-oh, here we go with the conditions again... how many syllables this time?" George groaned.
"... I get to wear the dress."
"And stick me with a necktie? Fuck that." George folded his arms stubbornly and turned away, eyes shut.
"No, you can wear your swim trunks to our wedding." Then Fred lifted his chin with prim dignity. "I'm the bride: my word is law."
George opened one eye. "I take it the whip comes out on the honeymoon."
" - and the leather cat suit."
"Yowza!" George opened both eyes wide. "Well done then. We'll announce our engagement tomorrow."
"Won't mother be ever so pleased! We've settled down at last," Fred said smugly, rubbing his hands together.
"And speaking of conditions..." Fred purred, "my solicitor says we have a certain five-syllable condition on record...."
George defended his case. "You expect me to understand a five-syllable word?? Sir. It is inconceivable that one so recently incapacitated as myself should find multi-syllabic words comprehensible."
"Your logic, sir," Fred pointed out graciously, as he slowly inched further up the pillow, "is impenetrable."
George bowed his head. "Thank you, thank you - wha -!"
Fred had shoved his brother's head to his lap.
"Now pay up." Fred pressed himself into George's chin.
"Okay. On one condition..." though George gave it a lick as a promise of sincerity.
Fred whimpered. "... anything."
George clambered up Fred's body, lay on top, looked him straight in the eye and said, "tell me what happened with Angelina."
"Damn it." Fred struggled. But George had him trapped.
"Tell me." George caught Fred's eyes.
Fred gave up with a panicked breath. "Legally, you've already agreed, so I don't have to answer...."
"Ha. You and I both know a law's only as good at its enforcement. Amazing how few enforceable laws there are in the Wizarding world, hmm?"
"Spoken like a true criminal. I'm so proud," Fred said, and squirmed again. George glared. His brother rarely shut him out like this, and he wasn't taking no for an answer. George rolled off, set Fred free, and waited. Fred was silent a long moment and then finally gave in, with a heavy sigh.
"I broke up with her," Fred answered at last. George waited patiently. There was more, he was sure.
"You see, what happened was... the Weasley Charm was working overtime - " Fred began.
" - of course..."
"And one thing led to another - " continued Fred.
" - naturally..."
"Annnnnd... then I couldn't." Fred winced.
"I couldn't!" Fred repeated, exasperated.
"Oh..." George was silent.
Fred tried to explain. "It made me feel really small."
" - like a limp dick?" George supplied helpfully.
"Oh, -thank you- for that image."
"Don't mention it," George grinned. He rolled onto the pillow, thinking a moment. This still made no sense. "So what? You think you're queer?"
"No, no, no. I was just really embarrassed and... and I may have... said some things to Angelina..." Fred confessed; his voice trailed off miserably.
"That's all?" George squinted.
"Are you kidding?! After what I said I was doomed! So I broke up with her. Quick."
George ran his hand over his face. His own relationships were a lot simpler than Fred's, who seemed to have a marvelous talent for fucking things up.
"So. Let me get this straight. You had a limp prick. Then you acted like a prick. Then you were an even bigger prick by breaking up with her?" George was impressed. This was one of Fred's better efforts.
"Ah. Yeah. That's about the size of it," Fred cringed.
"Fred. You are a complete idiot."
"Thank you, I'm very proud of that moment. I've hit a new low, one I will have to work hard to surpass." Fred whimpered into his pillow, "God..."
George snorted. "Well, on the plus side: at least your prick kept getting bigger."
"Yeah. I was an enormous prick by the end of it," Fred agreed.
"And an arsehole besides - " George added, ever helpful.
" - almost an entire lower half of a person," Fred nodded.
George shifted in the blankets, snuggling his cold feet underneath. Fred imprinted his pillow with his chin unhappily. Then George leveled a gaze at his twin.
"Look. It was your first time."
"No, no it wasn't," Fred said quickly.
George snorted. "First we have the prick, the arsehole - now we get the bullshit! Fred! Who loves you?"
"Who knows you?"
"You do - alright, but - "
George interrupted. "But nothing. It was your first time... it was, y'know, pressure."
"My prick worked just fine with you!" Fred complained.
"I'm practically your other hand. Angelina's the real thing," George assured him.
Fred breathed wistfully. "And how..."
George nodded, reached over and pulled his brother's hair. "Yeah. You like her. So - go after her. She's put up with you this long. Which is amazing, really, when you think of it. I can barely put up with you myself. Just talk to her."
George thought it very reasonable advice.
"No." Fred scowled.
"Talk to her."
"-Talk to her.-"
"No!" Fred was emphatic, with damnable pride.
"Look, I can keep this up as long as you can. But at dawn, I turn into a pumpkin and you don't get any," George said reasonably.
"Hey! We had a deal!" Fred squawked.
George said in a low, evil voice, "I'm altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further..."
Fred blinked. "Where have I heard that before?"
"Lee's house, blidio-player or whatever Dad called it."
"Oh yeah... never thought I'd get sucked off by, whatsit, Darth Vader." Fred huffed a sigh, clearly swayed by the reasonableness of George's argument. "Okay. I'll talk to her -- but if I get castrated, you're giving me yours!"
"At least it'll match."
George pulled Fred's underwear down a little further. Fred had gone a little soft, but was already starting to perk up. It was rather entertaining to watch it rise, up close. This was going to be fun. "The things I do for love. But do I get to wear the dress then?"
" - and the cat suit. Don't forget!"
"Think of the benefits. Fred, what am I going to do once you finally lose your virginity?" George asked.
"Go back to being second in everything?" Fred supplied cheerfully.
"Oh, piss off! And give me that cock before it's gone for good."
Fred rolled dramatically into the pillows, throwing his arm over his head theatrically. "Farewell, sweet prince, you've been my best friend, and my favourite toy -
" - oh -fuck-!" Fred gasped.
George smiled around his mouthful.
After several minutes, George's hands dented the pillows on either side of where Fred's chest heaved helplessly beneath him. Fred's face was flushed, his lips invitingly wet.
"I want to come," Fred said. His urgency was almost innocent. If anything was ever innocent about Fred. "Please." Fred rubbed himself against George's thigh, palms squeezing his arse. "Now."
He pressed up into George's lap, but George teasingly pulled away. It was great being more experienced than his brother in this area.
George rolled Fred over on top of himself and said gruffly: "Not in my mouth."
He was rewarded with a look of shock from Fred, as he realized what George meant - and even more incriminating - Fred stalling! Ha!
"No way I'm gonna fit!"
"It's too small on girls, too," George said with experience back him up.
Fred nodded, although he truly hadn't much of a clue. "True."
Fred really wasn't doing well tonight. George snickered, adding up the score. George made a mental note that he was probably going to pay for it tomorrow. But it was worth it. He maneuvered Fred between his legs with a happy sigh.
All of the sudden, Fred's eyes, only inches above George, narrowed suspiciously.
"You've wanted this all night, haven't you?" A smile spread across Fred's face.
The smile deepened as George struggled for an answer. Not quite quick enough, or as glib as his brother, George emphatically denied it.
"Of course not!"
"Uh-huh. Thou protesteth too much." Fred rolled over on his side teasingly, his smirk obvious in his voice. "Well, I'll just finish myself up, thank you for the blow job..."
George cursed himself for ever trying to hide something from his twin. "C'mon, Fred! Aren't you the least bit curious? Haven't you ever wondered?"
Fred made a show of considering it. But George knew his brother better than that. If he hadn't said no right away, he wasn't going to.
Sure enough, Fred responded at long last:
"Well, well, George, it's your lucky night. There's a special on - two for one. And you're our millionth customer! Ding, ding, ding!" Fred pounced.
George decided that pointing out he was Fred's -first- customer would not be politic, and could put a serious dent his sexual experimentation. This was not something he could try with his girlfriend Maribelle after all. Something hard and interestingly shaped pressed against George's thigh. His breath caught as it skimmed a more sensitive area.
George reached over and pressed the Potion jar into Fred's hands. "Here... just need to warm things up a little."
A hand teased, then a finger, and George's eyelashes fluttered. Warm fingers started stroking in and out with soft, wet sounds.
"Need a lot more oil," Fred commented.
"Umph," George answered, rather distracted. He had always wondered about this. He sighed as Fred supplied more oil, a smooth spreading warmth.
"Oh, that's a lot better," Fred muttered, his concentration focused on the hand moving in and out, working George wider, watching him sigh.
"Hm," George replied.
"Hm?" It felt strange actually, but in a good way.
Fred leaned up and kissed him.
Yeah. It felt good.
When things felt softer and wide open down there, Fred tipped George's knees a little higher.
"Okay, let's try this," Fred stroked some more oil on himself, then he fumbled himself up into position.
First Fred got the angle all wrong, and he slid up the crack of George's arse. Which felt good in its own way, but... Fred readjusted. This time he was far off to the left and slid off again. The next attempt was over to the right. George finally grabbed Fred and held him in the right position.
"Fred, you're really gonna have to get a lot better at this." Never mind that George had had the same problem with Maribelle.
Annoyed, Fred pressed in. Hard.
"Augh - ! Never mind the dress! No dresses! Ever! Stop!" George swore furiously.
There was a resounding kick to the other side of the wall from Percy, "-Quiet! I have to be at work tomorrow you...-" Percy launched into a stream of surprisingly colourful invectives.
They froze. They reconsidered their earlier plan, thinking they really didn't want to shock Percy all that much after all. They were rather fond of him and didn't want to kill him off. Fortunately, as the two boys clung together holding their breath, the sound was not repeated.
Finally, George breathed heavily. "Geroff!" he panted in a hushed voice, shoving at Fred's chest.
"No, no, George, this is going to be great!" Fred said in a stage whisper. His eyes were rather wild. He held himself where he was partially impaled in George carefully steady. "I'll just go slow, alright? Just really, really slow and gentle. Like this, you'll like it... yes? Yes?"
Fred studied his brother very intently beneath him. He edged in with very small, incremental little pushes. "Yes?"
The pain had washed through George and faded to a distant manageable throb, and he bit his lip. George finally nodded. And Fred held himself above George and pushed into him steadily, though very, very gently. Not bad, George thought. For a beginner.
He wondered philosophically if after doing him Fred was still technically a virgin. If not, George realized, he now had material to tease Fred for the rest of his life.
George also decided to go quite a bit more gently with Maribelle. She really ought to have said something. Although she was a big girl, quite a bit bigger than he and Fred put together, a great cook and she had the biggest...
"You liking this, Georgie-boy?" Fred smirked, driving in a little harder. George's current line of thought had caused certain parts to recover nicely.
"Hm? Oh. Thinking of Maribelle's tits."
Fred resented George's 'questionable taste in girls' which had resulted in George getting laid quite a bit sooner than himself; or so he thought. But Maribelle wasn't fat! She was... cuddly.
"Well, pay attention! You're insulting a very sensitive soul." Fred gestured to his cock, which seemed to be perfectly happy and not insulted at all.
George was rather glad he'd made himself hard again though. Fred pressed up against him - warm balls felt good against his arse - and he felt really good against Fred's hard stomach. Though there just wasn't quite enough pressure. George wrapped his hand around himself. Fred stopped suddenly, and shook his head.
"Don't. Could you not do that? Puts your knuckles right by my stomach... and it's just not..." Fred slid out and then back in a trifle, as George gasped, "..ungh...conducive..."
George let go and nodded, and watched in fascination as Fred did his business. Dark as it was, he could still see Fred pant and bite his lip. Fred's naked body undulated as he moved - and when had Fred taken off his shirt? George was still wearing his, though it was pushed up under his arms. George slid a hand to his nipple. Fred didn't argue with that.
Fred felt very hard, moving gently inside him. Weird. His cock had felt so silky in George's mouth. It kind of burned and Fred pressed oddly against something inside, but, ah, he rather liked it for all that.
But George's feet were getting cold, and it felt like all the blood was running out of his legs. George whined.
"C'mon, Fred, hurry it along..."
"Fickle, fickle. First you want it slow, now you want it fast," Fred grunted.
But the rest of his joke was lost as Fred rather gleefully picked up the pace, losing his rhythm but moaning ecstatically. George joined him, laughing through the thrusts that felt... Oh - So - Intense. George held onto his knees for dear life, struggled to suppress his moans, and heard Fred's murmuring, panting, laughing in his ears. Fred was bigger, God! George was sure he was bigger now, and it burned so... he grit his teeth and panted and wanted and needed, but - oh God, this was insane...!
"Fuck - !" Fred cursed, "omigod, omigod - " and Fred surged inside him, his mouth open. He held himself suspended above George, wrapped in bliss. George's heart pounded. With a slight incomprehensible mutter, Fred slowly withdrew.
Fred spoke finally, in an awed whisper:
"So that's sex."
Aha. So it did count! A grin spread across George's face. At Fred's sweet amazement, how good this felt, the blaze inside, the warm body on top of him, how totally inappropriate it was... and how Fred was never going to hear the end of this. He throbbed and was already sore, but George felt good. Really good. He gathered Fred to him, and curled around Fred in a pleasant warmth. Too bad Maribelle wasn't a hermaphrodite. The gods were unkind not to have created three sexes. He mentally measured Fred's hard, bulky smoothness in his arms and decided Maribelle's generous curves were better for this part. Like a big snuggly, stuffed toy. George sighed. Oh well.
Fred cuddled into George, and seemed to be falling asleep already.
"We really have to do this again sometime," George said to the sky.
"On one condition..." Fred answered. His voice was sleepy, but his wits were never less than razor sharp. George loved that about his brother. He chuckled and turned towards Fred expectantly.
"Next time, I don't get grilled on my love life -during- my sex life." And George laughed again. But he didn't answer. Fred had better not keep secrets, that was all. Finally, George sat up, and started to disentangle himself to move back to his bed.
"George..." Fred asked plaintively, "Could you stay?"
George lay back down and snuggled his arm around Fred, just like they used to when they were very little. He knew Fred had been a wreck all week and was grateful to finally get it out of him. Fred breathing was slow and steady. He was almost asleep.
"Next time, you -will- be on the bottom."
George felt rather than saw Fred's eyes fly open, and chuckled. Gotcha.
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