Title: The Secret Of Charlie's Success
Author: misfit_ragdoll
Characters: Bill/Charlie
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: masturbation, ic, s/s
Themes/kinks chosen: phobias
Word Count: 2700
Summary: When Charlie worries that wanking will cause him to lose on the Quidditch Pitch, his big brother, Bill, comes to the rescue.
Author's notes: Much thanks to r_grayjoy, eeyore9990, alisanne and everyone else who helped me with encouragement and beta-as-you go servicing. I had planned on writing femmeslash this month but these two had other plans for my brain.



Bill Weasley was worried about his brother. Since they'd come home from Hogwarts at the end of their 4th and 6th year respectively, Charlie had been behaving oddly. Normally, his younger brother was laid back, easy going, happy, but these days, he was quite the opposite, nearly always on edge, spoiling for a fight, ready to tear someone's head off at the slightest word or deed. Granted, that was normal behaviour for most 5th years but, this was Charlie, his best mate and closest sibling, and Charlie just did not act like that.

After putting up with another day of Charlie snapping at their younger siblings (granted, Fred and George had gotten into his salamander tank and let the fiery little buggers run all over the house, burning holes in the carpet and terrifying their mother in the process, and Percy had been his usual swotty little self), Bill decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He was going to get to the bottom of this, confront his brother and set him straight once and for all.

Bill made his way up to the top of the house and into their shared bedroom, unsurprised to find Charlie sitting on his bed, sulking, his nose buried in the latest issue of Quidditch Quarterly. This was nothing new; Charlie had been like this every day for the past few weeks. "Oi, Stroppy. You busy?"

Charlie looked up, his mouth set in what seemed to be a permanent, petulant frown. "Whatchoo want?"

"What I want," Bill continued, "is to find out what crawled up your fat arse and died, little brother? A Puffskein? A Garden Gnome? How about a Manticore?"

The only response was a searing glare, Charlie's upper lip curling up in irritation.

"Aw, wassamatter, Chubby Chipmunk? Why don't you tell me all about it?" Bill cooed, leaning over to chuck his brother under the chin, then darting out of the way as Charlie swiped at his hand angrily. Bill knew how much Charlie loathed the childhood nickname, or any reminders that he'd been anything less than fit once upon a time.

"Sod off, Bill – and don't call me that!" Charlie growled.

Bill shook his head in annoyance. "Well, then stop behaving like a tetchy little berk and tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing to tell!" Charlie roared.

"Pull the other one, mate. You've been a right pain in the arse since school let out," Bill snorted. "Something happen at the end of term you didn't want anyone to know about?"

"No." Charlie dropped his magazine, then flung himself backward on his bed, staring up at the ceiling blankly.

"Poor marks?"

"No."

"Something happen with the team?"

"No."

"A girl?"

"No."

"A boy then?"

"No!"

Bill scowled, letting out a hiss of aggravation. "For fuck's sake, Charlie, are you going to tell me or not?"

"I said 'no'," Charlie muttered, his eyes still firmly fixed on the cracked ceiling. "S'simple as that."

"Bollocks." Bill sat down on the bed, giving Charlie a shove. "Budge up, you great lump."

Charlie opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again, grudgingly moving over to give his older brother some room on the narrow bed. "There isn't anything wrong," he grumbled.

"Of course not," Bill replied agreeably, settling against the mattress, stretching his long legs out. "I've just failed to notice that you've always been a moody little twat until now, have I?"

"Shut up." Charlie elbowed Bill in the side, casting him another dark look. "I'm not moping anyroad."

"Of course not." Bill nodded in assent, leaning his head back against the headboard, then gave his brother a sidelong glance. "You know what you need to get you out of this strop, little brother? A wank to relieve your tension. A nice good long wank. I've even got a brand new dirty mag you might wanna have a butcher's at just for that very purpose."

To Bill's surprise, he felt Charlie tense against him, his freckled face growing pale. "D-don't think so."

Bill bolted upright, staring at Charlie in surprise. "You? Turning down an issue of PlayWizard and a wank? What is this world coming to?" He studied his brother's expression closely; it was something close to panic. "Come to think of it, when was the last time you tossed off? It's been a long time since you've been at it."

"That's none of your business," Charlie snapped. "How do you know what I do or when I do it anyway?"

"Oh, c'mon, Charlie," Bill replied, rolling his eyes. "You're my brother, we share a room and you're hardly the soul of discretion, are you?"

"I could do it when you're not around," he insisted. "Or in the bath or…"

Suddenly things became very clear to Bill: Charlie's foul moods, his aggressive behaviour, his impatience with everyone. "Blimey, you really haven't had one off in ages, have you? What the hell's happened to put you off that? The Charlie I know and love couldn't go for more than ten minutes without putting his hand down his pants."

"Well, I haven't, all right? I've got more important things to do than…than… that," Charlie countered, his cheeks slowly growing red.

"So, that's what all this has been about?" Bill fought the urge to laugh. "A bloody case of blue balls?"

'It's not funny, Bill!" Charlie gave his brother a rough shove. "I'm an athlete – I can't go wasting my strength on rubbish like that if I want to win."

This was too much for Bill to take. He goggled at his brother, incredulous. "Are you taking the piss, Charlie Weasley? Tossing off's…well, it's sacred! The best time a man can have by himself, innit?" Of course, at seventeen, Bill had quite a lot of experiences that put solo endeavours to shame but there was no need to rub his brother's nose that in right now.

"No, I'm not taking the piss. Wanking depletes a bloke's stamina, makes him weak. It puts him off his game."

Bill could see his younger brother was completely serious. "And where the bloody hell did you get such a load of old cobblers?"

"Gaius. Gaius Havers. He's Ravenclaw's Captain, he—"

"I know who he is," Bill interrupted. "He's a self-important little prat."

"Well, he told me that I was a crap Seeker and an even worse team Captain and that everybody knew it. That that's why we kept losing matches—'cos I'm too busy polishing the wrong broomstick." Charlie's whole face was beet red as he balled his hand into a fist and flailed it about in illustration. "So I reckoned that if I stopped, the team might improve, or at least I would. I've read some books and they said that abstinence is better for your performance—"

"First of all, Charlie, I don't know who everyone is according to Havers but anyone I know thinks you're brilliant. As a seeker and as a Captain," Bill said, hating to see his brother so unhappy. "And I talk to a lot more people around school than Gaius bleeding Havers."

"Well, they're not going to tell you they think I'm pants, are they? You're my brother! Not to mention Bill fucking Weasley, boy genius."

Bill pursed his lips, shaking his head. "Believe me, if people thought McGonagall had made a mistake putting you on the team or in charge of it, they'd say so. To my face. But it's not true. Second of all, I hate to break it to you, Charlie, but all not wanking is doing is making you tense and nervous and impossible to live with. It's not enhancing anything and anyone who says otherwise is telling you great big porkies."

"But—"

"Did it ever occur to you that Havers might have an ulterior motive for telling you that?"

"Well, yeah, but he's a Ravenclaw – and he's right! We didn't win a single match last year. I just reckoned he might be on to something." Charlie looked miserable as he made the admission to Bill, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

"Meanwhile, all it's done is made you a miserable horny pillock. You're like old Mrs McCallum's old tom when all the girl Kneazles are in heat. Perhaps you ought to rethink your very cunning plan and try something else."

"But, what if he is right?" Charlie swallowed hard, his colouring going from crimson to a sickly green, a light sheen of sweat forming on his brow. "I want Gryffindor to win next year. I'm tired of us being bloody great losers."

Bill sighed. Charlie was taking all of this to heart and it was obvious that nothing he said was going to convince the stubborn git otherwise, but he had to try. "Look, I've got a good idea, Charlie. How 'bout having yourself a wank and then tomorrow, we'll play a bit of Quidditch one-on-one and see if it impairs your game or not? If it does, then you don't have to do it again. If it doesn't, well, you can go back to your old habits and you'll know Havers is full of shite."

"I…can't.." Charlie let out a frustrated groan, squirming again. "For fuck's sake, Bill, can you please shut up about wanking? Just thinking about it's given me a stiffy."

Smirking, Bill flicked his gaze down to Charlie's groin, the flies of his shorts already bulging with the tell-tale sign of an erection. "Well, then stop whinging and do something about it, you plank."

"I—"

"I know, I know, you can't," Bill repeated. "What if someone else did it for you? Would that still count?"

It was Charlie's turn to stare at his brother, his mouth hanging open in surprise. "What?" he finally managed.

"Well, obviously if I touch you up it doesn't count as wanking, does it? So you're still abstaining and you can't possibly bring down wrack and ruin on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, can you?"

Charlie screwed up his face in contemplation for a moment, torn between terror and desperation. "Oh, all right then," he finally conceded, his voice quavering.

"Don't sound so enthusiastic, mate. There's blokes who would kill for the privilege, you know…" Bill gave him a short nod, getting up from the bed to retrieve his wand. He flicked it casually at the door which locked with a soft click then cast a Temporary Sticking Charm just in case their mum decided to come barging in. The greatest advantage about being of age meant it was a lot easier to keep their mother's nose out of their business.

Finally, Bill set the wand down again, then quickly rummaged through his dresser to retrieve a small tube of hand crème. He opened it, pouring out a dollop of the sweet smelling lotion and slathering it on his palms, rubbing them together before returning to his spot on the mattress.

"Poncy git," Charlie grumbled, pulling a face as he struggled to get his shorts open. He pushed them down around his knees, followed by his y-fronts, his cock springing to attention. "You smell like an old lady."

"No doubt a great turn on for you then," Bill retorted. "Just lie back and relax, would you?"

Charlie did what he was told, moving stiffly into a more accessible position. He folded his arms behind his head, resting against on the worn wooden headboard, his head in the well of his laced fingers. He made a great show of getting comfortable, although he looked anything but. He glanced over at Bill anxiously, his blue eyes filled with trepidation.

"Relax, mate." Bill lowered himself onto his side, curling his lanky frame around his brother, his cheek firmly against Charlie's shoulder. "I'm not gonna bite." He could feel Charlie trembling, his heart pounding, his breathing ragged. He reached out and touched Charlie's erection tentatively, feeling it twitch beneath his fingers. It had been a long time since they'd done anything like this, not since Charlie had first asked for instructions on how to wank four years ago, as if Bill had been the expert on the subject. Charlie's body had changed dramatically since then, hardly the podgy, soft body of an eleven year old boy anymore. He was leaner, more muscular, nearly an adult now.

Bill heard Charlie gasp as he wrapped his fingers firmly around the shaft of Charlie's cock. Bill couldn't help but note the difference between them; Charlie was wider and thicker and somewhat shorter, the wiry copper curls at the base coarser than his own. Slowly, Bill slid his hand up along the curve of Charlie's length, brushing the pad of his thumb over the head, teasing it lightly. The skin was warm and already slick with pre-come as Charlie shifted beneath him, automatically jerking his hips down, then thrust up again into Bill's hand.

"Good lad," Bill breathed. "See, nothing to worry about. Go on, then…just shag my hand…"

"Fuck, that feels good," Charlie groaned, his jaw still clenched tensely. He moved again, his hips rocking against the mattress. He suddenly stopped short, his body stiffening, his eyes fluttering open in panic. "Bill, what if—"

"Don't think about it," Bill urged, tightening his grip on Charlie's cock, pleased to hear his brother grunt with pleasure. "Just let go…"

Biting his lower lip, Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to relax. "M'trying," he insisted.

"Well, try harder."

Charlie once again pushed up into his brother's hand, determination etched in his features; it was the same fierce look he got before he went out onto the Quidditch Pitch before every match. Bill let him set his own pace, continuing to increasing the pressure of his hand as Charlie's hips began to pump faster and faster, his breathing grown ragged and frenzied. Bill could feel the already turgid flesh growing harder; it wouldn't be long now.

He was hardly surprised when Charlie reached down, placing his hand on top of his own, then tightened his fingers in an agonizing grip. With a loud, strangled groan, Charlie came in thick, hot spurts, splattering his release over their enjoined fingers, the pale, freckled expanse of Charlie's exposed belly and the sheets.

Finally, Charlie loosened his hold on Bill's hand, slumping back, panting and gasping for breath.

"You okay, mate?" Bill asked, withdrawing his hand, still slick with hand crème and sweat and Charlie's spunk. All the exertion had had its own effect on him; he could feel his own burgeoning erection throbbing dully, but dealing with it would have to wait until later. He wiped his hand discreetly on the thigh of his jeans , then reached up to ruffle Charlie's hair affectionately.

"Mmm. Yeah." Charlie nodded lazily. "S'good. Really good."

"Brilliant," said Bill.

" 'Course," Charlie said, voice heavy with languor, "if Gryffindor continues to lose next year, I'm putting the blame squarely on you, mate."

"Ah, go right ahead," Bill replied with a chuckle. "It won't happen though. You're a brilliant player and a good Captain. Bet you'll be claiming that cup for the next three years without even trying. McGonagall herself will be offering to get you off in thanks."

Charlie shuddered at the thought. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather have you do the honours." When Bill snorted, he added, "So, if we start winning fantastically, I expect a pre- and post- match wank from you. It's the least you can do to show your support."

"It's a deal," Bill agreed. "Although if you're the Captain of the winning team, you'll probably have your pick of willing groupies to do it for you. You won't need me."

"Rubbish," Charlie countered, a hint of his old cockiness apparent in his tone. He turned to his brother and smirked. "I'll just need them and you. The way I see it, if wanking's the way to win, well, then the more often the better, yeah?"

Bill laughed, unable to argue his brother's strange logic and, for once, not wanting to try.