Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
FIC: Through a Glass, Darkly (George/OCs; NC-17) 
13th January 2016 05:25
Title: Through a Glass, Darkly
Author: [info]torino10154
Pairings: George/OCs, past Fred/George
Rating: NC-17
Themes Included: Everything old is new again, necrophilia, medical kink
Other Content: Sibling incest, vaginal sex, blow jobs, anal sex, mental illness
Word Count: ~1,045
Summary: Late at night, the loss of his brother weighs heavily on George's mind.
Author's Notes: Thanks to [info]writcraft for the once over! ♥ It's been a while since I wrote for [info]daily_deviant and of course it was a kink like this that inspired me to return. Once a Deviant, always a Deviant. ;)

Everyone is so damn proud of George he can hardly stand it.

He understands their reasons. He'd been a bit mad that first year after Fred died, very nearly taking his own life.

Thank Merlin for Harry who really did seem to know how he felt, who understood his desperate despair and loss in a different way that his parents or siblings did.

Maybe because Harry had looked death straight in the eye.

George decided to pursue a career in Healing at St Mungo's, and after years of hard work, he finally wore the lime green robes of a Healer.

Now, whenever she saw him, his mother kissed both of his cheeks every time she saw him, clutching him to her breast and saying, "I'm so proud of you, George!"

He could see the looks in everyone's eyes. Pride tinged with pity.

"Poor George is finally getting over the loss of his twin."

As if that was possible.

George works the late shift from ten at night until six in the morning. He never slept well before anyway and he certainly doesn't now.

They have a number of emergencies at night that are only routine after one's had far too much to drink. From ridiculously enlarged penises to life-threatening reactions to mixing Muggle and magical narcotics, George has seen it all.

Once in a while, there's nothing that can be done.

Once in a while, George escorts the body to the morgue.

Tonight it's a twenty-something witch with a broken neck. He needs to move fast before rigor mortis sets in.

He could still fuck her if it has but it's more enjoyable when there's still a little warmth, a little play in the rapidly tightening muscles.

Locking the door—not that anyone else will be down there at 2:28 a.m.—George pulls off the white sheet and rolls her onto her stomach, his cock straining in his pants.

He pushes her legs wide and groans when he sees that she's shaved clean, letting him admire every fold. He runs his fingertip through the pink flesh before pushing two fingers inside.

She'll feel good around him, he thinks as he pulls his cock from his pants. He strokes himself a few times before climbing up on the examination table behind her.

He grabs her hips and can tell that her body cooling rapidly.

"Fuck," he says as he pushes into her cunt. The muscles aren't tight with life but he doesn't care.

He sets his rhythm slowly, enjoying the slide of his cock in and out, in and out. Like breathing.

George squeezes one of her arsecheeks in his hand, the flesh cool to the touch. He drapes himself over her back, pulls her hair and yanks her head back in what would be an unnatural angle if she wasn't already dead.

The wheels on the gurney skritch-scratch against the floor as he pounds into her, finally filling her lifeless body with his wasted seed.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, then Vanishes the come. He climbs down and turns her onto her back, straightening her legs. He has to crack her ankle to fix the odd angle she stiffened into.

Once she's adjusted, he says his goodbyes and covers her with the sheet, just like he did with Fred.

He slips out and makes his way back to work and no one's the wiser.

Not even a week later, he gets another opportunity. A Muggle drug overdose. The healers try emptying his stomach and giving him a blood replenishing potion. Alas, the brain is gone and after a day, the body succumbs.

It's four in the morning and the other healers are tired, clutching their cups of tea and yawning widely. George is more than happy to take care of the body for them.

George props him up and opens his mouth, shoving his cock into the dead man's mouth, his fingers gripping his hair so tightly clumps come out in his hands. He needn't worry about gagging him—the reflex is gone along with his need to breathe—and George fucks his mouth until he comes, the pearly fluid running out of his mouth and down his chin.

"It's rude not to swallow," George says, breaking the jaw to get the mouth closed again.

Three weeks later, he gets to indulge himself again. This time it's an older man. He's maybe 60 or 70. It's so hard to tell with wizards. But he's stocky like Fred, ginger like Fred. He has an arse George could fuck for days... just like Fred.

George knows the dead man's cock won't rise again but nevertheless his licks down the length of it, sucks the head into his mouth for a moment, a hint of semen on his skin.

Maybe he was having sex when he died. George doesn't even care anymore what kills people just so long as they die on his watch.

Pushing the man over, George practically salivates as he spreads his arsecheeks. The impossibly tiny hole has no resistance as George pushes his cock inside.

He clutches the man's shoulders, remembering the last time he'd taken Fred from behind, two nights before he died.

George can taste Fred's skin in his mouth, smell his brother's scent all around him as he snaps his hips forward ruthlessly fucking the body beneath him.

He doesn't realise he has tears streaming down his face.

He doesn't hear someone enter the room.

They stun him—before he can come, the bastards—and take him back to his room.

His mum comes to visit the following day. As she always does, she clutches him to her chest, "We're so proud of you, George. You're getting so much better."

He sees the tears in her eyes and wonders whether she even believes it.

George likes his job at St Mungo's. Late at night, when he manages to slip out of the Janus Thickey Ward, he makes his way to the cupboard where they keep the Healer's robes. He pulls one on and waits outside the door to the morgue.

He isn't successful on all of his outings, but once in a while, he manages to stun the Healer before rigor mortis has set in on the recently deceased.
Comments 
13th January 2016 20:49
Oh, you clever thing! You got me with this one. I actually had to go back and look and re read to see if I'd somehow missed something. :P
Poor George. Mad indeed. And poor Molly.
Cleverly done!
15th January 2016 12:55
Thanks, hon. I really appreciate you giving it a go considering the warnings. It seems a lot of people had to go through it a second time (I'm just that clever... or unclear LOL).
13th January 2016 21:18
Ooo that was dark and creepy and you totally got me with that ending!
14th January 2016 12:42
Thanks so much, Grace. I really appreciate you giving this one a go. Glad the ending got you. ;)
13th January 2016 21:25 - OMG
You know, I actually didn't catch it till I read it the second time. OMG. That was...I don't have words. And the creepiest thing is that it's more sad than creepy...and I could so see this happening in reality. I never really bought that "George happily marries his dead twin's fiancée and lives happily ever after with a kid named Fred" thing. This I can believe.

It's so terribly sad and yet...subversive?...I almost feel like rooting for George, just a little. Amazing job.
17th January 2016 13:38 - Re: OMG
Thanks so much for the wonderful comment. I'm thrilled that you found this believable in spite of the creepiness. Poor George.
17th January 2016 10:46
You did such a good job with this! Not an easy theme to showcase by any means, but it was tough not to feel some sympathy for George - his pain and descent into madness palpable. The ending absolutely broke my heart. Really well written - loved it.
17th January 2016 16:59
Thanks so much, Writ, for the lovely comment as well as the support when I told you this was where I was going. LOL <3 And Poor George, I do think Fred's is one of the cruelest deaths of them all.
20th January 2016 15:37
Oh wow that is lovely and dark and sad.
20th January 2016 17:22
Thanks so much for reading! I'm pleased you gave it a try as I wasn't sure anyone would. Poor George. *cuddles him*
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