Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: ozma_katiebell
From: A Wicked Watcher: amand_r

Title: Never Be Too Careful
Characters/Pairings: George/Lee
Rating: NC-billionty
Kinks/Themes Included: Toys, sounding, restraints
Word Count: 2500 +/-
Summary/Description: He liked to call it 'product testing'. So did Lee. That way they could pretend without pretending. Angelina called it 'making damn sure', but she left them to it.
Author's Notes: Happy Crimmas, person! Thanks to mah seekrit beta.



On the second Thursday evening of every month, the sign on the front door of Weasley's (Weasleys') Wizarding Wheezes read CLOSED FOR PRODUCT TESTING. The first time the sign had appeared, there was a great deal of conjecture as to what was being tested, and with whom. Youngsters often dared each other to ask Mister Weasley if he needed volunteers, and on the rare occasion that one of them actually gathered the nerve to ask, George Weasley would simply smile, shrug and shake his head, mumbling about closed doors and company secrets.

What would those children think? he sometimes wondered. What would their parents think? Well, not that it mattered. Product testing was important, necessary, even, when considering the sale of gags and jokes and other trivialities and delights.

For instance, he mused as he walked through the empty store and into the back storeroom, how else would he know that the liquid center of a Puking Pastille was never to be used as lubricant? Or that Peruvian Instant Darkness powder was an essential ingredient when role-playing 'The Auror and the Industrial Espionage Artist'? That a Pygmy Puff would lick anything, anything covered in Canary Cream.

He liked to call it 'product testing'. So did Lee. That way they could pretend without pretending. Angelina called it 'making damn sure', but she left them to it.

And it wasn't just old favorites, really. It was new ones, ideas still in conception, ideas just back from the production lab. Ideas they had scribbled on paper.

Things they sold in the clandestine sister shop in Knockturn Alley.

Product testing. They came off the line rather warped sometimes, and George wasn't sure they got it right. Sometimes they had to check to be sure. As George stepped into the backroom and closed the door to the front behind him, he was greeted with the merry groan of restraints creaking as their captive twisted and turned on the converted meat hook. He shed his loud overcoat and tie, the waistcoat with the trick buttons, the belt and the shoes, the socks that released smelly gas when he turned his ankle just so. He ran his hands through his hair to loosen the gel that held it in place all day. Each movement drew out his approach to the hook, and Lee, swinging like a dressed pig, though never so slovenly, really.

His arms stretched above him, his hair coming down in long brown coils until they brushed his waistband. Shoes off, toes barely on the floor, moue of mock disapproval.

George wanted to ask him how he felt being there for the past hour, but he didn't really care for now. He'd ask later, after the product had been run through its paces.

The product was genius, spelled and spelled and enchanted triply so, layers upon layers until the final end, this, tied itself about Lee's wrists, tendrils of it weaving down the cords of his arms and onto his chest, where it waved, almost sentient. They were wicked lovely, actually, thin and veined and looking much like silken cords. George stood in front of him and reached out one finger to run down the rough softness of them.

Lee raised an eyebrow from his position, straining the bonds with his wrists, his torso arched as he hung from the hook above him. His toes touched the cement floor.

'They work,' he muttered, ''so you can—'

George tapped the ropes with his hand and they slackened. Lee twisted his wrists to pull them from the ropes and in a snap they tightened again.

'Huh,' Lee grunted, as George knelt in front of him and dragged his belt from the loops of his trousers. 'What are we calling these again?' His voice was bland, but his cock belied any nonchalance through his shorts as George peeled his trousers down and studied the organ in front of him.

George ran the tip of his finger down Lee's cock, trapped in his shorts, then smirked when Lee lifted one foot to kick his thigh. 'We're calling them Tightly Go Lightly.' He laughed. 'I'm thinking of selling them with a complimentary breakfast at Fortescue's.' When Lee said nothing, he glanced up at him. 'Too oblique?'

'You're mental, is what you—ah, all right.' He thrust his hips forward, clinking the chains at the very top of the hook as they connected to the high ceiling. The ropes tightened and threaded their way further down his torso, and Lee tilted his head back. One of the ropes twisted in his hair and tangled with a long dred. 'Oh, yeah, I see the appeal.'

George peeled the shorts down and breathed on Lee's cock. He'd like to tonguefuck the foreskin, but that would have to wait for later. Product. Testing.

'They're doing their job,' he said, trying not to sound as interested as he was in the cock in front of him. Lee was always hard, really. Hard as soon as he walked in the door and stripped off his shirt and shoes, as soon as he held his hands out for whatever George had come up with. George fisted Lee's cock, bringing his hand up the shaft so that the foreskin gathered over the head and he could delve his tongue inside it, worrying the slit with the very tip. Lee thrust again and the movement almost forced the whole thing into George's mouth. He sat back and slapped it lightly (not tightly).

'Oi!' Lee chuckled, 'None of that.' He twisted when George tilted his body out of thrusting range and then did a full turn on the hook. 'If I wasn't tired of hanging around, I'd suggest that we swing about.' He lifted his knees, and the hook and ropes completed a lazy pendulous arc back and forth in front of George. Lee shook his left leg and his trousers and shorts fell to the floor behind him, a soft thump of metal and cloth. The dim light of the room (too dim for real product testing, unless ambiance was an essential ingredient in the success of these tools, and of course it was) played in streaks and shadows on his skin as he moved in and out of its range.

George stuck one hand into his pocket and found the glass egg he'd brought with him. 'The ropes are just a beginning. Not the big thrill of the evening,' he said, reaching out to snag one of Lee's dancing feet.

Lee stilled and he wagged his cock in front of George's face. 'Really? I was hoping. Unless you were going to find something really kinky to do with the…what's that?'

George sat on his heels and unscrewed the glass egg into two halves. He was sometimes quite proud of the things that his brain came up with. Sometimes he mined Fred's old notebooks for inspiration, and this one had been such a case. In the middle of Fred's copious notes on Extendable Ears and the putty formula had been the following excerpt, most enlightening:

The stuff we make these things from is shite. Flobberworm and Brittlebeet. Makes the things stretchy all right, but honestly, if we really wanted these things to be useful, they could move on their own, follow the sound. I guess we could spell the stuff to follow anything, really.

OH HO GEORGE. SEX PUTTY? WE'D BE RICH.

Well, George was rich anyway, but that didn't mean that he disagreed with the assessment. 'This,' he said brightly as he tipped one half of the egg on its side and let the gel inside slide out onto his hand tentatively. 'This is brilliance.' He glanced up at Lee, whose face was a mix of trepidation and delight. 'I call it Carnal Creeper.'

'Sexy,' Lee mumbled and then grinned. 'What's it do?'

George walked the fingers of his empty hand up one bare thigh and was pleased to feel the beginning of gooseflesh. 'Let's find out, shall we?' He smiled up at Lee's face. 'Product testing.'

His putty-filled hand raised up to clasp Lee's cock, flattening the gel against the hot skin there and squeezing, his fingers pulsing a rhythm. Lee let out a grunt and almost lost his footing; the only thing keeping him in place--George's grasp on his prick. Not that he would have really gone anywhere. But George needed to see. He let go and watched the putty, the Creeper, gather itself and cover the base of Lee's cock, light pink against the dark skin (we should offer different colours), shaking and quivering as it tried to lock onto the thing it was supposed to be seeking.

'I'm not entirely sure what it does,' he said, shrugging, and also rather glad that he hadn't mentioned it until after Lee's hands were indisposed. 'But think about it. It's programmed, created, actually, to seek out heat.' The gel began to crawl up Lee's cock, and the restrained man let out a groan, his head falling back. George watched the putty with curious eyes, but his trousers were too tight. Every movement of the thing on Lee's cock seemed to mirror itself on his own, as if the putty was psychic as well as sentient.

Nah.

It didn't help anyway, knowing the science of it all, then the Creeper reached the end of Lee's cock and flattened itself over the head; one edge slid under the foreskin. George loosened his flies and dug his hand into his shorts, until he remembered: oh yeah, product testing.

'So uh.' Lee ground out. 'So, uh, heat?'

George watched the putty seem to shrink, as if it was growing smaller, going somewhere. Unexpected, or rather, unthought out. 'I think,' he amended. 'I gather. Perhaps.'

'Merlin's Balls,' Lee gasped, his feet almost leaving the ground as he thrashed. 'It's going down, it's—' His eyes widened and his jaw unhinged, opening in a wordless noise that culminated in a squeak/ragged intake of breath. George glanced at the Creeper, now definitely disappearing down Lee's—

'I hear this is a rare sensual experience,' he told him solemnly.

Lee writhed and raised his head to glare at George. 'Then you…oh. Then you do it and—I think I might come in reverse.'

George ran one finger along Lee's sternum and dragged his palm over his chest when he rounded the man. 'In the interests of science, describe.'

'Fuck your sc—oh, it's getting hard.' George stared at the putty, now almost entirely down inside Lee's cock, a pink stopper of sorts. Lee's prick was long and jutting, ready to lick or suck, or maybe just a handjob, really. George wanted to wrap his fingers around it, feel the hardness of the muscle and squeeze, as if he could feel the rod that the putty had become right down the middle, a liquid-filled sweet inside out in some ways. His own cock was trapped in the waistband of his shorts, and he pressed it into the cleft of Lee's ass, perfect function, as always. Just a little press into the flesh there, slotting into place, as he ducked his head to press his cheek against the softness of Lee's underarm so that he could watch the putty twist around on the head of Lee's cock.

Lee pushed back into George's prick, rolling his hips. 'It's like. It's like…it's burning, but it…' He ground his arse into George, the universal signal for "fuck me", and George was only happy to comply with a little bit of oil and a slap to his thigh, all the while his cock moved in Lee's arse and the putty rod turned in Lee's dick, screwing gently, building inside his body as he pulled on the ropes (tightly never lightly, not now), and his hair slapping George's face and his chest when he grunted with the force of movement on his immobile frame.

George came in a succession of thrusts, each one shorter until he was screwed so tightly into Lee that it wasn't a thrust at all, just a grinding motion that reminded him of many good things. With that last motion, he whispered the wandless magic and created the ball of heat in his fingers, holding it to the small amount of putty still working the head of Lee's cock, satisfied (and secretly relieved) when it began to grow larger, pulling out of the urethra to pool into his hand and curl about the heat source. Lee screeched and humped the air uselessly, and when the last of the putty was gone, George set it aside quickly, free fingers pulling his own cock out of Lee's arse so that he could lay both hands on Lee, flying over the waist, the hair that led down to his cock, still hard and about to come.

When he did come, it was, as usual, loudly and messily and gloriously and, if they had to admit it, in no way related to product testing, just another thing they liked to share, really, and this, Lee's back arched against his chest, his arse pressing against George's damp cock, it was all part and parcel. It was cake, it was candy and Quidditch and all things good, one of the only things these days, with what they had lost living through dusty notebooks and inspiration for sexual tools that they would put to the test even if they never sold a single one (but, oh, this would sell, George knew, it would sell by the dozens).

He caught Lee's come in his hand, lifting it so that he could lick it from his palm, could wipe it down Lee's cheek, press it onto Lee's tongue when he fingerfucked him for a few seconds, making sure that every orifice had had something stiff in it tonight.

And then finally, when they had caught their breath, and the putty was a happy glump on the bowl, and Lee's cock was soft and glistening, George licked a line up the back of Lee's neck, reaching above them to tap the ropes with his recovered wand.

The cords slackened enough for Lee to slide his hands out and he lowered them gingerly. 'I think I might've dislocated my shoulder. Among other things.' He rubbed his soft cock lightly (not tightly). A glance at the basin. 'That was wicked.'

George leaned against the crates behind him, not caring that his trousers puddled around his feet, his shirt unbuttoned and wet in all the right ways. Lee rubbed his wrists and grinned. 'It's sellable,' Lee said softly. 'With the appropriate warnings.'

'Ah, and the other?'

Lee yanked on the ropes above his head, and they came loose in a soft fall of silk, as harmless as any other cords. He ran the length of it in his hand and smiled.

'I dunno. We might need a control group.'

George simply grinned and offered his wrists.

Product testing, after all.

END