: The Oddest ThingAuthor
: Percy Weasley/Fred Weasley (deceased), George WeasleyRating
: Sort-of incest, portrait-wankingThemes/kinks chosen
: SpectrophiliaWord Count
: Fred has a theory about Percy...Author's notes
: Okay, so this almost didn't get finished in time. Thanks to alisanne
for carrying me to the finish line.
The oddest thing about my brother Percy is...
No, wait, back up. The thing about Percy that...
Fuck. See, this is really difficult to explain because most people would just laugh and nod, because it's Percy
. I mean, they'd just assume he'd be like that. But then, if Percy were anyone else? They'd think it really odd.
Huh. I'll probably spend the next hundred years trying to puzzle that one out.
Anyway, the thing? The one I'm trying to get at? Is that when he sleeps, he's stiff as a board. He tucks his covers under his mattress--he can do it wandlessly now--so that he's completely pinned in and then he puts his head in the very center of his pillow, nose pointing to the ceiling. And then... he closes his eyes for eight hours. I've sat there watching him, night after night, and I'll be buggered if I can tell when he actually falls
asleep. He never relaxes. He just lies there, eyes closed, stock still. He doesn't snuffle about, doesn't twitch, I can't even see his eyelids fluttering as he dreams.
Of course, that might be due more to my position in the room than his lack of dreaming. It's a bit difficult to see the minutiae around the edge of the frame, but over time, I developed a theory: Percy's a golem and doesn't actually sleep. Come on, you know my dad would have done it. All those Muggle tools...
Okay, so I know he's not really
a golem, but I really do believe that he doesn't sleep.
And as with all of my theories, I needed Gred's help to test it.
"I could probably come up with something to help you with that small case of completely fucking insane
you've developed. For fuck's sake, Fred, why
"Why not?" I hadn't expected resistance; that I'd found it was causing me to flounder slightly. That's the only excuse I have for the lack of imagination in my comeback. I'm usually much better than this.
"If you say 'my brother,' I am warning you now that I will recite, in excruciating detail, every instance of brotherly devotion
you and I shared over the years."
I didn't have to say anything. After all these years, my darling twin knows me well enough to interpret the narrowing of my left eye.
"With you it was like... well, like wanking."
"My cock in your arse felt like wanking to you? That's
a bit far afield from the sensations I was shooting for." I didn't even have to feign the insult in my tone.
"No that's--that's not what I meant. Dammit, Fred, you can't come back in here and throw this on me and expect me to just jump up and shout, 'yay!' That's not the way it works!"
"Well, why not?"
He turned a look on me that I'd previously only seen on Mum. It was downright chilling. "Because
I turned away and stepped toward the edge of my portrait. Not that I was really going to go anywhere, but I have never been the sort to shy away from emotional blackmail.
"Sulk all you like. 'M not doing it."
At his invitation, I sulked. Amazingly, it did not change his mind.
With George no help at all, it was up to me
to get around to the actual... heh. The actual meat
of my plan.
Wait a moment while I write that down? George, the bloody bastard, will enjoy the pun.
The best part of being dead is that I don't have the same needs as those who are corporeally-enhanced, so to speak. I can have them if I desire
them, but otherwise I can do without. Eating, sleeping, wanking... These are things I left behind with my flesh and blood body. The one on the canvas is capable of picking up a piece of painted fruit and eating it, but I won't wither and die if I don't. That would be a universal conundrum and the universe does detest a conundrum. At least, that's what I've been told by the other portraits I've chatted with. I'm tempted to create a conundrum just to see what happens.
With that thought in mind, I decided to go ruffle Percy's feathers. Really, he makes it too easy.
"Don't you ever relax?" I asked, then snorted at myself. That was, after all, why I was pursuing this course so strenuously. Well, that and abject boredom.
Percy sighed and looked up, and for just a moment I caught the now-familiar flash of grief in his eyes before his mouth quirked up at the corner. "What? Don't I look
relaxed?" He leaned over and looked down, his pointed stare drawing my gaze to his slippers. I rolled my eyes and planted my hands against the barrier between my portrait and the outside world.
"Budge me over a bit? I'm tired of straining my neck to see you."
"When? I'm hardly in here!"
"Yes, I know." My face doesn't wear frowns well, but I gave it a shot anyway. "You stuck me in here to twiddle my thumbs while you play all day."
"Okay, work. Ugh. That's even worse. But you do visit every day."
I shrugged, case closed.
"You watch me sleep?"
"That's... rather creepy and strange, Fred." But the look on his face was more on the lines of considering
, so I didn't worry that I'd be moved. Well, I was hoping to be moved, really, just not out of this room.
"Put me across from your bed," I said, wheedling. When his forehead wrinkled, I tried on my most alluring pout. George says it makes me look constipated, but he's just jealous.
The way Percy's eyes narrowed made me think he didn't trust
me. There was nothing for it, then. Either I had to tell him the truth--that I wanted to know if he was actually capable of R.E.M. sleep in his uncomfortable parody of resting--or I could shock him senseless.
"The last time you wanked, my neck ached for a week. It's an awkward angle for voyeurism." Have I mentioned yet how much fun I've found death to be?
Percy, being Percy, spluttered and flushed and fiddled with his glasses for several minutes while I stared at him expectantly. When he was finally capable of drawing a complete breath without choking or wheezing, I casually added, "I was going to have George rehang me; tried to talk him into a conjugal visit with you just so he'd have a chance, but I think this new bird he's seeing has him on a short lead." I had to stop for a moment then to consider the image of George, wearing a collar and having Angelina walk him like a dog. It wasn't as arousing a mental picture as I'd thought it would be, sadly.
"Conjugal... George is my brother
"That's rather less of an obstacle than you'd think." Really, for all that Percy is a pompous arse, he's utterly delicious when his colour is high. "Would it make you feel better if I wank for you
Percy pulled himself up, his shoulders squaring as he glared at me, and I thought I knew exactly what was coming next. A resounding--
Well, now, that's not quite what I'd been expecting.
"Since apparently you've been watching me when I.... I think it's only fair, that's all."
"Ah, yes, we wouldn't want to be anything less than fair, eh?"
"Oh God, never mind. Forget we had this conversation."
"So sorry. Mind like a steel trap; I'm perfectly incapable of forgetting anything. I am, however, wonderfully flexible. Just ask George."
"Fle--..." I could see the instant it hit him, watched the play of emotions across his face as images bloomed in his mind. "You're having me on." I shouldn't probably mention this, but when he said that? He squeaked. It was so cute.
What? I'm allowed to think things are cute. I'm dead, after all. One would think I was entitled to certain eccentricities in my non-age. Moving on...
It occurred to me, round about the time Percy squeaked, that I was missing a prime opportunity. Grinning evilly, I leaned forward in my frame and said, "Come here, Perce."
He narrowed his eyes--again with the lack of trust!--and slowly shook his head.
"Oh, come on. It's not like I can come to you, is it? Be fair
Grief again, the briefest flash of it, before he edged closer to me. I licked my lips--no, I can't taste them, so don't ask--and smiled. "Closer."
He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest before he took a large step forward. "There, happy now?"
I sat back and stood up, showing him that I'd been painted clothing-optional. I couldn't see it, but hearing his gasp was gratifying. Seriously, Percy needs to get me a bigger portrait.
"What are you doing?!"
I leaned over and tilted my head, peering out of the top corner of my portrait at him. "I should think that would be obvious. I'm about to wank... while you watch."
"But..." Percy's mouth opened and closed twice before he pressed his lips together and swallowed. I watched his Adam's apple bob for a moment before I resumed my previous position.
"Stay right where you are!" I said, my voice as harsh as I could make it.
There was a guilty silence from the room beyond my portrait before Percy said, "You can see me?"
"No, git. But I've known you all my life; give me some
There was a ragged breath from the other room, which I ignored in favour of taking my cock firmly in hand.
Oh, hah! "Firmly in hand!" And see, I wasn't even trying
for the pun there!
"Fred, you really don't have to do this."
"Of course I don't. I'm a portrait. I can do anything I like. It's merely lucky for you that what I like to do is wank for an audience. Now... go lay down in your bed. Get comfortable."
"When I say 'you really don't have to do this,' what I mean is 'you really shouldn't
"Ah, well then. That explains it."
The key to getting Percy to do something you want? Keep him talking until he's done it.
I took a quick peek and saw to my personal delight that he was perched on the edge of his bed. It wouldn't be long before he was stretched out, head on pillow, one hand down his pants wanking himself in time to the movements of my hand over my cock. He already had a fine sheen of sweat on his upper lip, which was both promising and distracting.
Focusing my will, I was able to generate an erection. And, oh, it felt good. It had been far too long since I'd done this, which was a shame, really. I'd so enjoyed it in life. I made a mental note to insert a good wank into my schedule at least daily before I turned my attention to giving myself pleasure.
All while bent nearly in half so I could watch Percy watching me.
"You know," I said, reaching down to fondle my balls, "we would both be far more comfortable if you just carried me over there."
I winced when Percy, startled, knocked his head against the wall behind his bed. But apparently the knock to the head was all he needed to throw morality out the window and embrace my logic because barely a second later, my world tilted violently when he yanked me off the wall. I had enough time to consider myself lucky that motion-sickness was no longer a possibility before I was being propped against a pillow. He curled his body beside my portrait, staring at my newly-disheveled form from behind his studious glasses.
From this distance, I could go into full-screen mode with no possibility of him missing anything important, so I did. His eyes strayed from my face, down my chest to my hand, which had never left off gripping my cock, even when I'd been lurching around drunkenly during the journey from the wall to the bed.
"Go on then," he said quietly.
I preened, oh yes I did. Long, slow strokes at first, to build things up a bit. Then I tilted onto my back, knees up, toes pointed toward him as I slid my clenched hand from tip to base and back up again. His breathing stuttered and I smiled, looking down the line of his body to the front of his sleep pants. Those were, of course, tented.
"Touch yourself, too," I whispered.
He shook his head, clenching his fists in the no longer immaculate bedclothes.
"I wonder if there's a word for this," I said, smoothing my other hand over my hip and around my thigh until my fingers were within touching distance of my bare arse.
"Incest," he muttered.
"No, I mean... the portrait wanking thing."
"Surely there must be."
I raised an eyebrow at that, but shrugged and went back to my wank. I watched him carefully as I touched myself. After all, this show was completely for his benefit, so I may as well make the most of it. He watched avidly as I stroked up and down my cock, one finger of the opposite hand drawing tantalising circles around the entrance to my arse. I sighed with pleasure and shifted, pressing my finger more firmly against my arse. I watched Percy lick his lips and wondered what that mouth would have felt like around me. I'd have to wait to find out, of course, but at this very moment, a hundred years or more seemed like rather nothing in the grand scheme of things.
In the meantime, it seemed I would have to settle for Percy swallowing a curse and shoving one hand down his pants.
See? I told you he would.
He looked... gorgeous, really. His skin was flushed a dull red, his eyes bright behind his glasses as he wanked almost awkwardly. I could tell he was fighting a battle with himself the entire time, but even that was sexy. I lost my rhythm a bit, but the pleasure that pulsed through me, through my entire world, actually, was such that I didn't care. I'd definitely
be doing this a lot in my immediate future.
I kept going, kept pumping my fist over my cock, kept playing with my arsehole, kept biting my lips to keep the words I wanted to speak hidden away behind them. That was not the time to be distracting, after all.
Percy came first. I'd known he would; technically a portrait can't truly reach orgasm, but I'd found a way to manipulate the unnecessary white flecks to explode from my cock in a sort of fountain-like way. It was impressive, especially for a portrait, but not something I could really boast about.
That night, I had front-row seats to watch Percy sleep. He took the time to clean himself up--okay, so it was a spell, and took less than a second, but it's something I usually couldn't have been arsed to do in life, so I was impressed--folded the sheets tightly around him, pointed his nose at the ceiling... and closed his eyes for eight hours.
After all that, I still
don't know if he actually sleeps. But I'm very happy to keep watching until I know for sure.