Experimenting, for yura_slash Title: Experimenting Author: *unknown* Recipient:yura_slash Pairing: Fred/George/Voyeur!Percy Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 2059 Warnings: None, other than incest and voyeurism. :) Summary: Percy stumbles across something ‘vaguely’ horrifying. In a good way. *wink* A/N: I very sincerely hope you enjoy this, Yura! It’s a bit different, as far as styles go, but I enjoyed writing it and I hope that comes through. Also, there’s porn, so… DH Spoilers: None
I watch them as they touch one another and I am vaguely horrified. I say ‘vaguely’ because while there is a small voice inside my head screaming at me at the inherent wrongness of what I am watching—and that I am still watching it—there is another voice inside me that is whispering seductively about how incredibly beautiful the sight of them is to me.
They are a bit like Charlie in their build: large, square hands; broad shoulders; short enough that I’ve always felt the slightest hint of superiority, however false that sense; full lips.
Hmm, lips really don’t have much to do with build, do they? I digress.
They are quite definitely stamped with features that brand them Weasleys, as are we all. But their grace, the very sly way they move is something that is purely them. Something that would set them apart from the rest of the family—we are, generally speaking, a rather clumsy bunch if we’re not exquisitely aware of our every movement—if their very twin-ness didn’t already do so.
Is twin-ness a word? If not, it should be. I’ll make a note of that, I think.
George’s hand sliding slowly down Fred’s abdomen interrupts my musings and my mouth floods with... no, no. I'm not drooling. However, the late summer heat added to the work they’ve been doing in the garden all afternoon has left quite a delicious sheen of perspiration on them both. The dust that lingers in the air from the drought we’ve been experiencing has left them slightly dirty as well, so George’s fingers leave a subtle trail as they descend.
Fred’s head turns and he whispers something to George, something I can’t hear well enough to make out the words. The low rumble of his voice is laced with an emotion I’ve never heard in it before, however, and it pulls at something low in my belly. I’ve been ignoring the growing bulge in my trousers this long; the fact that the front of them just twitched? Means nothing. Which will be my defence when I’m standing before the judges of Hell, I’m sure.
I can almost feel the heat of brimstone against the soles of my feet as I give up all pretence of innocence and lean against the doorjamb. If I’m going to spy on my younger brothers doing naughty and illicit things, I mean to be as comfortable as possible. As it is, I may have eye-strain from peering through the tiny space available through the barely-cracked open door. Not to mention the way my specs are pressing around my eye-socket… It’s just as well I’ve always been so proficient with my healing charms.
It occurs to me at about this point that I’ve been mentally side-tracking myself so that I can have a sense of plausible deniability. But since I’ve settled in for a good long peep, I may as well watch and enjoy.
George is licking lightly along Fred’s neck, stopping occasionally to whisper something into Fred’s ear. Fred seems to be lost in sensation at this point. His head is lolling on his shoulders, giving George full access to the side he’s currently laving with the very tip of his tongue. The pulse in Fred’s neck is visible from here, and I can feel mine speed up to match it.
Fred’s chest and face are flushed a dull red, a shade that I’ve seen before, but generally only when Fred is angry or embarrassed—though he’s only been embarrassed enough to blush twice in my memory. His hand is trapped behind him, but from the way his arm is moving and the flexing of the muscles in the top of his forearm and his biceps, I’m rather sure he’s slowly wanking George.
I slide one finger around the collar of my shirt as I break out into a bit of a sweat at this thought. I wish I could throw open the door and watch them from every angle, but I’m not exactly their favourite person. Perhaps if I wait a few minutes, though, they’ll be so far gone they won’t notice me? That’s a lovely thought.
My breath catches as the blunt ends of George’s fingers tangle in the ginger curls between Fred’s thighs. So close. They’re so close now. But…
Instead of sliding up the flushed length of Fred’s cock, they dip below. Thick fingers turn nimble and dextrous as George slowly fondles Fred’s sac. Fred’s other hand immediately goes up to wind around the back of George’s head even as he hisses and makes the most arousing and encouraging noises.
“George.” By the time the word reaches me it is a mere breath of sound. They’ve obviously done this before if they know to be this quiet. The only reason I can hear that is because I am straining… ah, my ears are straining to pick up the slightest noise.
George comes undone at the sound of his name on Fred’s lips and he spins him slightly, bending him over a low stool. Oh, yes, this is a much better angle. I nearly swallow my tongue as I get a full view of both Fred and George. The argument could be made that as they’re twins they look exactly the same, however there is some intangible something that makes them slightly different in this moment.
George has been so carefully seductive to this point, but when Fred tosses his head and hisses something at him, a bit of that control slips and his fingers dig roughly into the skin of Fred’s hips, leaving faint red marks. He arches one brow and lightly smacks Fred on the arse and I blink in astonishment as Fred twists his body into George’s, clearly pleading for more such treatment.
George laughs quietly and shakes his head before stretching his arm to the side for something. Ahh, it’s a tube of lubricant. I lick my lips and raise one shaking finger to adjust my specs. I’m so hard at this point that it hurts, but the waiting is… well, it’s an inexplicable mixture of pleasure and anticipation that makes the hurt worthwhile. I won’t be able to hold out much longer, though.
George flips open the tube with his thumb and squirts a puddle of the colourless gel onto Fred’s lower back, filling the dip there with it before recapping it and throwing the tube across the room to land on one of their beds. He murmurs something to Fred, whose groan I can just hear, before he lowers his upper body onto his folded arms, presenting his arse to George.
The lube starts a slow slide up his back, but George’s hand stops it before gravity can have its way. Fred rocks his hips a bit, impatient, but George’s control seems to have returned. He bathes his fingers in the lube then does something I hadn’t expected. He walks around beside Fred and pushes up onto his toes, sliding his cock along Fred’s lower back as far as he can reach. He uses the non-lubed hand to scoop the remainder of the lube off Fred’s back, cupping his hand over the top of his cock and forming a shallow cavity with Fred’s body that he slowly thrusts against.
He would likely have continued this bit of teasing, but Fred turns his head and finds George’s calf just within reach of his straight white teeth. The love-bite makes George jump and he smacks Fred’s arse once more for good measure before moving back around behind him.
He slides his fingers down Fred’s lightly freckled arse cheeks before pulling them apart and easing one finger between. I watch as he says something to Fred before pressing forward with that finger. As it slowly disappears, I find that my lungs are bellowing with the force of my breathing. I’ll hyperventilate if I don’t calm down, but I doubt I could calm down now if doused with icy water.
As an alternative to being shockingly drenched, I fumble with the fastening of my trousers and hurriedly open them, plunging my hand into them to grasp my cock. I choke off a telling sound by biting my lip, then return my avid gaze to that tiny, precious viewing crack.
Fred is rocking back against George, his mouth moving soundlessly in what must be unspoken pleas. George has at least two fingers inside Fred now and I lick my sore lip as I tug clumsily on my cock. The uncomfortable friction makes me bite back a curse as I yank my hand free and hastily give my palm three long licks and one good spit before returning it to my groin.
It’s not perfect, but spit will do in a pinch. And this is most certainly a pinch.
George finally pulls his fingers free of Fred’s arse and my hand speeds up on my cock as I watch him line up behind Fred, his stance unmistakable. He places the head of his cock against Fred’s hole, but before he can push forward, Fred takes the initiative away from him. Borrowing a leaf from my book, Fred bites his lower lip harshly as he thrusts his arse back against George, forcing George into him. George forgets himself for a moment as a low, keening sound is ripped from him.
Embarrassingly enough, that sound is all I need before my balls draw up and I begin to spurt all over my hand and the front of my trousers. I force my eyes to stay open, watching the tableau unfold before me as I massage the last few precious moments of my orgasm from my cock.
Fred and George are far from finished, and even after I have spent myself there in the hallway, I continue to glide my fingers lightly over my softening prick as I watch them.
George has a solid grip on Fred’s hips now and is firmly in control again as he slowly thrusts in and pulls out. Fred’s eyes are squeezed shut and his head is tossing from side to side in his impatience. His hand sneaks to his cock several times, but each time George is there to smack it away. Finally, Fred turns his head and bares his teeth at George and whatever he says appears to work.
Goaded into action, George tightens his grip even more and begins to slam into Fred, jostling him until the stool begins to inch across the threadbare carpet. This time, when Fred reaches under himself to tug on his cock, George’s hand is there to help instead of hinder. Their fingers link as their hands work furiously to bring Fred to an orgasm that bows his back and leaves him screaming silently, the only sound a high-pitched breath of air.
George pulls his hand free and returns it to Fred’s hip as his face twists into a grimace of pleasure and he slams solidly against Fred one last time. I stay long enough to watch them run soothing hands over one another before I quietly tuck myself back into my trousers and tip toe off down the hall to the bathroom, where I charm myself back to my normally pristine state.
I walk as sedately as possible into the kitchen, forcing myself not to fidget with my trousers as I’m quite certain of my cleaning spells. Nevertheless, Mother has always been a tad too canny—must come of having had so many sons—so I’m slightly nervous that she’ll sense something amiss.
She looks up from the sink, flashing me a rather distracted smile before going back to rinsing the potatoes for tonight’s dinner. “Were you able to find Fred and George, dear?”
I cough politely to remove the stone that seems to have suddenly become lodged in my throat. But of course, the question is totally legitimate as she was the one to send me on a quest for my errant brothers in the first place. I idly wonder how long I was gone even as I open my mouth and utter something about the twins’ door being closed and locked.
Mother sighs and shakes her head. “Most likely experimenting again.” The cough turns into a full-fledged choke at that before she says what we’re both thinking.