Title: "Rainbow"
Author: pre_raphaelite1
Characters: Bill/Tonks UST, Bill/Charlie, OFC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: UST, Weasleycest
Themes/kinks chosen: Cat fighting and erotic art (sort of?)
Word Count: 3300
Summary: And, as the muttered cursing indicated, this really wasn't the beginnings of rough sex and probably needed to be stopped as female entrails were probably not good for the stonework. Bill and his cock sagged in disappointment.
Author's notes: This is a birthday fic for clandestinelli who asked for some Bill/Tonks... And the story went its own damn way because OMG. They wouldn't stop talking. *headdesk* Aaaanyway, Happy Birthday, Darling!



It wasn't the first time Bill had to break up a fight. He'd thrown himself in the middle of hundreds by now. Generally it was the ongoing hexing between Gryffindors and Slytherins in which Bill typically managed to sneak in a good jelly legs on his house mates' behalf before separating the wand-happy students and deducting points from both the ruby and emerald hourglasses. Occasionally it was intrahouse bickering that lead to screaming, hitting, and kicking over an upstart pawn, an overeager gobstone, or a misplaced book. Rarely- any more that is- he had to put himself between his brothers... once Charlie yelled at him to help stop the twins from jinxing or biting Percy.

However, this fight was different. There was far more hairpulling that he was accustomed to and far less clothes. It took him a few moments to visually disentangle the naked limbs to determine that he was looking at two girls under-wear clad girls rolling around in a deserted classroom off the third-floor corridor he had been walking. The girls were doing their best to either eviscerate or fuck one another... or maybe it was both. (Bill acknowledged that maybe it was his cock giving him some of those suggestions.) They hadn't noticed him yet so he very quietly shut and locked the door- content to watch them for a few moments as they screeched and clawed at one other. He'd oversee their fight to make sure neither was particularly injured and to see if they'd reveal what had started this. The sight of bare skin sheened with the sweat of this small battle, the tensing of muscles and writhing twist of bodies only made the observation that much more enjoyable.

He leaned against the wall as the girls rolled together, thighs and stomachs and breasts pressed together. Glancing briefly away, he did a cursory search of the room for their clothes, briefly considering that perhaps this was just rough foreplay. But the lack of any article of clothing save what they were wearing-- bras (black, simple, acceptable versus orange, striped, and far more interesting) and knickers (black satin- definitely an improvement to the bra but stark- versus... aw fuck, Bill mentally groaned, pink lace boyshorts)-- informed him that the clothing had been vanished. Most likely on purpose by one girl the the other in retaliation. And, as the muttered cursing indicated, this really wasn't the beginnings of rough sex and probably needed to be stopped as female entrails were probably not good for the stonework. Bill and his cock sagged in disappointment.

Still, he'd not been noticed yet and the girls were using their hands to scratch at each other's eyes and- ow- throat, so he reckoned he had another couple moments to memorize the supple lines of their bodies. The girl currently on the top (Pink Knickers) was the larger of the two with a very nicely rounded arse. The other (Black Knickers) had amazingly long legs, delicate looking, at least until they delivered a sharp knee to the gut of Pink Knickers. Bill winced in sympathy. Least it wasn't to the groin, he reckoned. The advantage was now Black Knicker's and Bill's because the girls switched positions and now Bill was able to get a good look at the small pertness of the black-clad arse. Definitely not bad at all, he and his cock assessed. But his brain managed to edge in a brief, strangled cry at the time he'd been ogling rather than interfering- a cry which his cock knew enough to listen to considering it had been on the receiving end of what happened if he were caught... admiring someone too long.

One final look, lingering over the pale skin of struggling upper thighs— first one girl's then the other's as Pink Knickers flipped them again— then he drew himself up to his full height to do his best at looking intimidating before setting about stopping them.

“Oi, you two! Enough!” he said in his Head Boy voice (which was nearly identical to his Eldest Brother voice but distinctly less tolerant). He reached down to slide one arm under the girl on top as she attempted to pin the other's arms down. In the struggle, Bill's hand found a small breast rather than a safe side and his own side suddenly had an elbow jammed sharply into it. He grunted as he went to his knees, pain radiating out from the point of impact.

“Aw fucking hell,” he muttered, his ears rather pink with embarrassment at the inadvertent grope. “Reckon I deserved that but you have wickedly sharp elbows.”

Maybe it was the round-about apology of the concession or perhaps it was the casual tone he was using but both girls paused in their fight to finally look at him. Pink Knickers had her hand twisted visicously in Black Knickers' hair while the latter did her best to ease the pull on the brown curls.

“Now,” he continued reasonably, “As much as I may have fantasies about seeing... Dora?” Bill stared at the girl on top, her fiercely red hair finally registering.

Pink Knickers/Dora looked from Bill to the girl below her then back at Bill again, scarlet hair starting to turn lavender at the roots.

“Wotcher, Head Boy?” she asked a bit hopefully, the sheepish tone of the caught.

Bill managed a moderately disapproving look, an expression McGonagall had made him practice his second year as a prefect. Then he looked at the brunette's face. “And Miranda.” He sighed and shook his head. “Why am I not surprised you two got into it again?”

Nymphadora Tonks and Miranda Goldstein had managed to develop a scathing hatred of one another for reasons unclear to anyone who hadn't been a teenage girl—which Bill never had been, despite what Charlie often claimed and/or fantasied about. Bill only wonders how much worse it would have been if the girls were in the same house or the same year.

“Alright- Let her up, Rainbow.” Bill instructed as he returned to his feet. Dora complied after one final glare at Miranda and a distinctly clumsy disentangling of fingers from Miranda's hair. Bill helped each girl to her feet in turn, purposefully putting himself between them. He did his best to ignore now the distinctly arousing fact that both girls were only in their undergarments. However Bill's best still left him grateful for his full robes and aware of his now, thanks to McGonagall, habitual lack of pants.

“Is it worth me even asking what this was about?”

Neither girl spoke, though the glares increased.

He rolled his eyes. “Right. Twenty points from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw for fighting plus five more a piece for using magic outside of class.”

“But she started it!”

“That's not fair!”

“I had to defend myself.”

“Like hell you did.”

He held up his hands. “Enough.”

When they both looked like they were about to continue their bickering, he pointed out rather glibly to neither in particular, “By the way, nice knickers.”

Miranda gasped and did her best to cover herself with her arms while Dora's eyes went wide then her hair turned entirely lavender. Both scrambled for their wands then paused to look suspiciously at one another.

“Yes. Very good, ladies. You have to return the each other's clothes. Unless, of course, you vanished your own.” His lips quirked to the side in a smirk at their mutually horrified looks. “Go on. Both of you.”

Miranda gave a haughty huff then a quick flick of her wrist and Dora's clothes appeared at her feet. Dora returned the favour though the robes landed on Miranda's head.

“Why you little bitch!” Miranda snapped, but Bill put a hand on her arm to stop her from launching herself at Dora again.

“Don't. That was actually not on purpose.” He leaned forward to Miranda's ear and said in a stage whisper, “I've seen her charmwork. It's complete pants.”

This earned Bill an indignant slap on the arm as Miranda huffed in laughter and quickly redressed. She left without another word, leaving the door open behind her, Dora only half into her skirt. Bill swung the door shut and leaned against it, arms crossed over his stomach.

“My charm work is not pants!” Dora objected as she got the other leg into her skirt without falling over entirely.

“No. It's actually much better than hers,” Bill admitted.

“So why'd you tell her that?”

Bill shrugged casually. “Got her to leave quickly and she'll be overly confident next time. You'll have the advantage.”

Dora stared at him then grinned and shook her head. “Some Head Boy you are.”

“I'm the best damn Head Boy and you know it. All about education and logic, I am.” He grinned at her, making no effort to hide the slide of his eyes over her.

Her fingers paused on the zip of her skirt and she raised an eyebrow at him. “You're staring.”

“I'm admiring.”

“Admiring... sounds like a fancy way of saying staring.”

“Maybe. But you've not told me to stop.”

Her chin lifted, hair slowly washing a warm pink. “No.”

“Are you going to?”

“No.”

His blue eyes flashed and he nodded his approval at this then took the time to fully admire her, the fullness of her breasts beyond the stripped cotton, the soft rounded hips that promised further curves, and the tantalizing disappearance of lace beyond the waistband of her skirt. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other as he looked.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Bill laughed softly and nodded. “Immensely. You?”

It was her turn to shrug. “Not as much as you are.”

He pushed away from the door. “I'd hate to be thought a bastard for not showing a lady a good time.”

Her eyes rolled at the ridiculousness of his words, but she couldn't deny the thrill that they sent through her. “Planning on writing romance novels, Head Boy?”

“Only if you're planning on reading them, Rainbow,” he quickly returned.

She groaned. “God, but you're a prat.”

“But I'm a damn fit prat.”

“With a big head.”

“All the more room to hold my devious brain.”

“Demented.”

“Delectable.”

“Disturbed.”

“Dashing.”

“Completely shameless and horribly teasing.”

Laughing he shook his head, “Would I tease you?”

“In a heartbeat. I've seen you with the other girls... and boys.”

“Oi, you make me sound like the Hogwarts broom.”

“Well, if the shoe fits....” She was smiling brightly at him now, though it faltered after a moment when she realised how close he was to her. He'd taken advantage of their banter to move only inches from her.

He smiled down at her. “You're blushing.”

“I am not,” she denied but the lie only made the staining truth more obvious.

“You want me.”

“Hah. Merlin, how does your ego fit in your robes?”

Bill reached out to caress one of her bare arms. “Could always find out yourself.”

He felt her shiver under his fingertips as she fell silent, eyes directed away from his face now. “Don't, Bill.”

“Don't what?” he asked softly.

She gestured vaguely in response and he tried gently teasing her away from solemnity, “Rather I was Charlie?”

That got a reaction alright. Her head jerked up, eyes slightly too large. He'd found the answer, clearly, but he only laughed fondly, hiding his disappointment. “Charlie's a good bloke. Needs a bit of force to see what's good for him. And I think you would be.”

“Really?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Really.” Bill nodded, mostly to himself to remind him he was doing the right thing, despite what his sorely disappointed cock might think. He bent and picked up Dora's shirt and held it to her. “Get dressed, Rainbow. I've got rounds to complete. And an idiot brother to talk to.”

With a smile curving her lips she rose up on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You're a good bloke, Bill Weasley. Even with such a big ego.”

“Yeah, yeah. You remember that when I want in on a threesome.” And with that, Bill turned and headed out of the door, leaving Dora rather slack-jawed behind him.

He found Charlie in his room, laying on his bed with a magazine open before him. The centerfold was spread out across the red cover, and Charlie was practically foaming at the mouth with desire.

“Fuck, Bill- Look at her. She's- She's perfect. The way she curves just there, so thin and that tail, Bill. Look at that tail.” His fingers traced the delicate ink lines drawn on the page. “Just look at her.”

Bill climbed onto the bed next to his brother and obliged him then shook his head. “She's a broom, Charlie. A broom.”

“I know. And she's perfect.”

“And she's not even priced yet.”

“I know.” This time it was more of a groan than the breathy sigh it was the first time.

“You need a bird. Or a bloke. Not a broom. Wrong b-word, Charlie. 'Bird.' 'Bloke.' Say them with me. 'Birrrrd.' 'Blooo-'” The word was cut off by the pillow bashed into Bill's face.

“Shut it.”

“Don't you want a shag?”

“That's what older brothers are for, isn't it?” Charlie grinned at Bill.

“I'm serious,” though he laughed as he said it. “Most sixteen year old boys look at magazines of people not sports equipment. I'm surprised I haven't found you tossing one off over the latest Wigtown edition quaffle.”

“There's a Wigtown edition quaffle?”

“No, idiot.”

“Oh.” Charlie nearly deflated but then caught sight of the broom again. “But did you see? She's got a 10 centimeter turn point. Imagine how quick I could dodge bludgers with that.”

“Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Suck me.”

Charlie blinked at him rather owlishly. Bill patted him on one freckled cheek as he drew his wand out and locked the dormitory door before rolling to his back next to his brother. In turn, Charlie yelped, arms waving briefly before he was able to rescue the magazine from under Bill's head.

“Not going to expect me to hold that while you fuck me, are you?”

“And risk you wrinkling it? No.” He laid the magazine reverentially on his side table before returning his attention to Bill who was deftly unfastening his trousers. “You weren't joking.”

“No. I've had a fucking hard-on for nearly an hour now and it's all your fault,” Bill spread the fabric apart to expose the neglected organ.

“Mine?” Charlie asked as he lay back alongside Bill. “How's that?”

“Dora. Lacy knickers. Catfight with Miranda.”

“How's that my- oh god, Miranda?” Charlie's hand which was wandering toward Bill's straining erection stopped a few agonizing inches away.

Bill groaned and took Charlie's paused hand and put it directly onto his cock. “Miranda. Found myself actually admiring the bitch's arse. Did I mention there were lace knickers? Like tight boxers. Made of lace. On a girl.”

Charlie chuckled quietly and started to stroke Bill's cock, his quidditch-roughed fingers working knowledgeably over the familiar shape of it. “How's that all my fault?”

Sighing, Bill relaxed onto the mattress. “I'm not you.”

“No, you're not but what's that- wait- you tried to... with... wait- which one?” Charlie's hand stuttered over his heated skin and Bill closed his hand over Charlie's to force him to resume its motion. He didn't move it away once Charlie took the none-to-subtle hint.

“Give me some credit. Like my balls where they are. Like that too.” He arched up into his brother's touch, hips starting to match the rhythm of their combined hands.

“Still waiting, Bill.”

“Dora. Has it bad for you.” His eyes fluttered closed, not before seeing the growing blush on Charlie's face. “Told her I'd tell you- get you to do something about that.”

“D-do something? I”m supposed to do something?” If Charlie wasn't at least half-focused on wanking his brother, his arms would be flailing again.

“Supposed to suck me.”

“I meant Dora.”

“Can suck her too.” Bill stretched his head back, his heartbeat speeding as Charlie fisted his cock. “Can suck us both- together. That'd be brilliant. All three of us.”

It was Charlie's turn to groan. “Fuck, Bill.”

“Also brilliant.”

“Wanker.”

“You.”

He pressed his heels into the mattress to get more leverage to push through the tight grip of Charlie's hand, his own fingers pressing them closer, tighter around him. Charlie knew what he liked, knew just how to turn his wrist, how to increase the pace, and where to sweep his thumb. Bill heard the quick rasp of a zip and Charlie's subsequent gasp as he took his own cock in hand. He opened his eyes just enough that he could see the flushed tip of Charlie's cock above his hand as Charlie set about working them together, hands moving in desperate time with one another.

“Fuck- the three of us, Bill. Think about it. You and me and her. All together.” His eyes were shut, brows slightly knit with focus as he babbled to them both. “Could be in the middle of you two. Could fuck her while you fucked me. Think she'd like that?”

“Fuck- yes. Be- be mad not to. Faster, Charlie,” Bill pleaded.

Charlie obliged, words tumbling from his mouth, “Yeah- get my mouth on her tits. She's got great tits. I like tits.” He didn't notice Bill nodding his agreement to this. “Feel your cock up my arse. Love having your cock in me, Bill. So thick and hard and deep when you fuck me. Just the way it should be- want all of that, Bill. Want to fuck like that. All three of us-”

Bill lost the rest of Charlie's words in the sudden jolt of his climax. He jerked under Charlie's hand as he came, spurting his release over their fingers in hot streaks, as heat and pleasure burnt through his body. Charlie never stopped talking even as he reached his own orgasm; Bill knew from experience it was only more filth, more words of need and want and sheer hunger for sex and release. But the buzzing haze of his climax filled his ears, hearing brought to nothing but distant sound as everything became the same quivering sensation.

Gradually he caught his breath, regained control of his senses. Charlie had curled in against him, as he always did, his face pressed to his older brother's chest. Bill wrapped his arms around him, heedless of the mess of his right hand, and rolled over on top of Charlie, squashing him into the mattress. Charlie sighed in bliss, finding comfort as he always did in being pressed between Bill and anything, the close contact soothing and grounding. Bill had long learned to sleep like this and he nosed at Charlie's jaw.

“Ask her out.”

Charlie mumbled sleepily at him but nodded a moment later.

“Good lad,” Bill managed.

“Brodyr,” was Charlie's garbled reply before he started snoring less than softly in Bill's ear.

Bill smiled and made a mental note to send Miranda some flowers.

And a pair of red lace knickers.



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