|Fun & Games
December 12, 2004
| Fred wants to train. George has to be persuaded.
Warnings: Twincest, obviously; underage (13)
"C'mon George, it'll be fun."
"You said that the last time as well. And what did it lead me to? A bruised rib and sore bum."
"But before the bruised rib and sore bum, that was fun, wasn't it?"
George rolled his eyes at Fred. Nobody could win an argument against him, not even his twin. He looked on warily when Fred sidled up to him and leaned against him conspiratorially. "And don't tell me you don't want to know what they were talking about in Wankers Weekly."
George tried to maintain his stern expression; even when Fred made an extravagant motion with his hand. "Can't you see it? Years from now, when we have risen through the ranks of students to the very top of those selected witches and wizards in Britain, when we have become the crθme de la crθme, when we have witches throwing themselves at us," he looked at George briefly, "when we have wizards throwing themselves at us, when that glorious time arrives when we finally get the prettiest girl - or bloke - in school to let us into their knickers, and then you want to fail because you didn't want to train with me?"
He looked at George earnestly and put his hands on his shoulders. "I can't let you do that. As your brother it is my duty to ensure that you are well prepared for whatever knickers will fall into your hands, be they blue or black, red or white, small or large, thongs or boxers. You have to be prepared." He shook George once, twice and blinked, George would have said overcome with emotions if he hadn't known his twin for the last thirteen years.
He grinned and slapped Fred's hands away. "You do remember you're talking to me, right? No need for the melodrama." He sighed once, careful not to look at Fred's, no doubt, mock-hurt expression. He gave a long-suffering sigh and let himself fall backwards onto the bed.
Before he could even say another word, Fred collided with him and had a hand on his fly. George wiggled away from the hand and pushed at Fred, unsuccessfully. "Hey, I haven't said yes!"
Fred looked up from his work on George's trousers and blinked at him. "Yet." Then he grinned. "But you were going to, weren't you? Because you know, just as much as I have to look out for you, you also have to make sure that this terrible fate doesn't await me."
George chuckled weakly at that. Then he drew in a sharp breath when Fred finally pulled his trousers open. He suddenly remembered the article this whole argument had been about in the first place. He pulled Fred up by his hair. Not that he had to pull too hard, Fred was quite willing to grin into his face like a demented gremlin.
"If this is all about that article, shouldn't we make some preparations first?"
Fred looked at him for a second, and then he smiled brilliantly. "I knew you would see the light, brother." He placed an incredibly unsexy smacker onto George's forehead, who rubbed at it like it contained the plague.
Then Fred got up and started to strip. George pulled his hand from his face, certain that Fred had no clue what he had been talking about. He stood up from the bed slowly, still idly rubbing at his forehead. He did up his fly again, walked towards the door. Only when he already had the knob in hand, did he turn around to look at Fred, who was still fighting with his shoes that had got tangled in his trousers' legs. "You coming, Fred? You didn't think I'd get everything by myself, did you?"
George grinned extra brightly when Fred looked up at him with a bewildered expression on his face. "Where..." He caught himself and flicked on his sternest expression. "And here I thought you wanted to help me, us." He crossed his arms in front of his naked chest and glowered at George. George bit back a laugh.
He slowly walked towards Fred, his face fighting to stretch into a smile. He knelt in front of Fred, careful to breathe out deeply, right onto Fred's crotch. He finally allowed himself to smile when Fred moaned at the action.
"See? Said you'd see the light." Deft hands tangled themselves in George's hair, but he simply ignored the none-too-subtle sign and started to disentangle Fred's trousers. One shoe was already off, but the other one was halfway stuck inside a trouser leg. He pulled it off as well, and then set to working Fred's trousers up his legs again. When he finally arrived at his hip and started to close the fly again, he couldn't resist looking up into Fred's face.
He giggled once, but then quickly turned that embarrassing noise into a snigger.
Fred pulled away from him and his hair, and his bemused expression turned into a stern one. "Well, are you going to go on fucking around or do we finally get to the fucking around?"
George looked at him for another second, still on his knees, and saw something everybody but him would probably have missed: the corners of Fred's mouth were twitching slightly.
With an answering twitch to his lips, George groped Fred's crotch playfully, and, within moments, they were both laughing.
Several minutes later, George unscrunched his eyes, formed his mouth into a less painful expression and calmed down his breathing. Finally quiet again, he looked up to see Fred lying on the bed, panting.
George walked over to him and offered his hand. "C'mon, we're gonna get some stuff from the kitchen and then we can do your 'training'."
Fred looked at him quizzically. "What should we get from the kitchen?"
George grinned. "You do remember last November's issue, don't you?" He moved to the door again. "We never had the time to try that one." He opened the door and walked into the hallway. Fred was hot on his heels, even thought he was still in the act of pulling his T-Shirt over his head.
George looked up. "I like it much better this way." He moved forwards to place his weight onto his hands and grinned down at Fred.
He knew that his grin turned positively evil when Fred moaned piteously; he had seen the expression often enough on his twin's face. He could feel Fred breathing underneath him, quick movements of his chest and puffs of air that hit his face; the movement only changing when Fred thrust up against him. Or tried to; George pinned him down with his body, keeping Fred from rubbing himself off.
He remembered too late that Fred was still covered in cream and through the squishy sensation on his chest it was hard to keep his voice bright. "Did you hear what I said, Fred?"
Fred's eyes fluttered open slowly and he made a small inquisitive sound. George decided to be merciful and let it count as an answer. "You really have to try it sometimes. Tastes much better than without."
Fred blinked at him once more, and then he whispered: "You're talking to the wrong Weasley. I'm not the one who's into blokes..." He hissed when George pushed down once more, trapping Fred's cock between their bodies.
"You could've fooled me, dear brother." He grinned on, slowly moving his body over Fred's. It was fun teasing Fred with his supposed straightness, especially when he was currently writhing under a guy. At least George had had the balls to admit that he fancied blokes.
"You know something else?" He curved his back upwards, straining his arms, when Fred tried to thrust against him again, ending the contact. It was seldom enough that Fred let him into such a clear position of dominance - something strange about him being straight, George was sure - and he was going to enjoy it; and pay Fred back for all the times he had done something similar to George.
His arms started to burn, and he decided to make himself a bit more comfortable; and Fred more uncomfortable. With a small "Oof." from Fred, George let himself fall down, wiggled a bit until his cock was between Fred's legs, not touching anything. He grinned into Fred's bemused face, and then placed a dramatic smacker onto his nose.
Fred reacted just as George had before: he pulled his hand from its grip on the pillow, and rubbed his nose, giving George a disgruntled look. "Just because you're a perverted idiot, doesn't mean I'm one, too," was his only verbal response, however.
"And here I always thought all the begging to 'train' with your twin brother was perverted."
"As if you didn't want to train as well!" He huffed, and George would bet his yearly allowance that he would have crossed his hands over his chest if he could have. "And I don't beg."
"Well, but I'm the gay twin. You always say you're straight and are still fucking around with me." He grinned smugly. "And you do."
George could see the mock-hurt expression sliding onto Fred's face again. "You call what we do fucking around? Doesn't it mean more to you than simple physical satisfaction?" Fred tried to move his hand down, but couldn't shift past where his and George's chests met. George really thought the performance lost a lot of its melodrama without his hand over his heart. "If we ever finally get to that." He tried to twist his hips and throw George off, but George kept him in place. They were the same weight, so Fred didn't have a chance to get leverage.
George snorted. "As if it was anything more to you."
Fred grinned. "You're right." He waited a moment. "So, can we get on with it?" He wiggled once. "Before the cream sticks us together."
That was a persuasive enough argument that George only thought for a moment about torturing Fred a bit more. Then he pushed himself up onto his knees and hands. "I suppose so." He stretched his right hand to reach the bedside table and pulled the jug of chocolate sauce from it. That would probably taste even better.
A few splashes of sauce onto Fred's chest and cock later, he went back to work. Truth to be told, he didn't mind giving head; in fact he enjoyed it quite a bit. Of course, he didn't tell Fred that. He got teased more than enough already.
With a small smacking sound, he pulled the head of Fred's cock into his mouth. Neither of them was very large yet and so it wasn't any problem to suck Fred's whole cock into his mouth. He thought it made training all the more effective as he could grow with the task so to speak.
And most times the licking, and sucking, and especially the desperate noises from Fred were nice. He enjoyed dragging his tongue along the underside of Fred's cock, like he did now; Fred spreading his legs further apart. And he liked sucking at the tip, especially with the chocolate flavour covering the taste of pre-come.
He licked down from the tip, right to the bottom, following a sweet trail to Fred's balls, pulling both of them into his mouth and sucked. He knew that this was always Fred's favourite part. And he was right. Before he could go any further, Fred bucked once, hissed something intelligible, gripped his pillow even tighter and then came.
He didn't squirt a lot of come yet, but a few watery, almost translucent drops landed on his stomach, his cock twitching against it, lightly hitting George in the nose.
George let go off Fred and moved up to lay next to him, his cock brushing Fred's thigh and sending a shockwave through him. He poked Fred's side. "Hey, no falling asleep on me! You still have to do me."
"Yeah, right. You were already starting to snore."
"I don't snore!"
"Right." He poked him again. "C'mon. At least give me hand job. You can always repay the blow job later."
Fred turned his head and blinked at him. "You would really keep track of something like that with your own brother?" George rolled his eyes when he started that expression again. "What about the time I blew you in the loo before practise, because you had got so horny watching Oliver dress? That should count as two! With the risk I was taking!"
"What risk? If somebody had seen us, we'd both have been fried." George grinned in response to Fred's exasperated look.
"Because I'd have been known as the guy who gave his brother a blow job!"
"What about me?"
"Nobody would hold it against you. After all, what guy says no to a blow job? No matter who gives it." He rolled to his side with a sigh and gripped George's cock. "Well, let's get this finished then."
George thrust into his hand and said between deep breaths. "Don't sound too enthusiastic, brother mine. I might get wrong ideas."
George could feel Fred muffling his snort against his own neck, warm puffs of air dampening his skin. He concentrated on the feeling of Fred's fist tight around him, not as loose as it had been the first few times; Fred finally knew what George liked instead of only doing it the way he liked. The feeling got more intense with the moments, a tingling along his spine, Fred's body half-pinning him to the bed, warm and comfortable. He thrust one, twice into Fred's hand and then felt the best sensation since Quidditch dives.
Sinking back against the bed again, he blew out a deep breath. "You still owe me a blow job, I won't forget that. And don't even start with your counting-double bullshit." He tried to look stern, but when he looked down, he saw that his effort was worthless.
Fred was already asleep, a small dribble of spit forming in the corner of his mouth. George pushed him off of him with a bit of effort and smiled. It really was amazing how quickly Fred was out after a good orgasm.
Five minutes later, he was just as deeply asleep as his brother.
|Did you enjoy the story? Was there anything you think I could do better? Please, let me know!