Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: lilmisblackFrom: leela_catTitle:
A Need For WarmthCharacters/Pairings:
Bill Weasley/Charlie WeasleyRating:
Sibling IncestOther Warnings/Content:
For a moment, Bill thought about resisting, thought about doing the right thing, the sensible thing, the honourable thing, but then Charlie whispered, "Please," and Bill just couldn't.Author's Notes:
To my fellow deviant, I hope this hits your kink just right and adds a little warmth to your holiday season. Thanks to my encouragers and my prereaders for so much. Any mistakes they didn't catch are all on me.
Egypt was hot and dusty, often smellier than Ron's socks after playing Quidditch in the rain. His tiny flat, crammed into the top floor of a building that still bore the marks of a time when the city was known as Thebes, was filled with noise and light.
Bill loved everything about it except for one thing: the lack of communication with Romania. No Floo connections. No direct mail. Nothing except a mail drop that had to go through Gringrotts' Budapest office, and an occasional call through the Muggle telephone system when Charlie had enough time off that he could make it down the mountain into the closest Muggle town.
That wasn't anywhere near enough for Bill. Not having Charlie around was like not having his wand arm. He was always thinking about telling Charlie something, wanting to complain about the noisy neighbours, or laugh about his apprentice, Ziyad, who was currently bouncing around High Priest Thuty's tomb, clutching his arse and being chased by a cursed sceptre.
"Utterly hopeless." Bill rolled his eyes as he knelt down so he could read the hieroglyphics on the marker that Ziyad should have read before reaching for Amun's sceptre. Three characters in, he pulled out his wand. A flick with a counter-clockwise twist, and a common Ancient Egyptian counter-curse brought the sceptre back to Amun's hand, after one last jab at Ziyad's arse.
"That was not funny," Ziyad said as he squatted down next to Bill.
"Yes, it was." Bill grinned at him. "Next time, if you don't want people laughing at you, read the marker before you touch."
"There was a marker? Show me."
"Here." Using his wand, Bill pointed at the tiny marker on the underside of Amun's beard.
Twisting around until he was almost upside-down, Ziyad squinted. "I would not have looked there."
"What you should have done is cast the location spell that I taught you." Pushing himself to his feet, Bill dusted sand off his palms and his trousers.
Ziyad rose more gracefully and studied Bill. "I hear you are going away next week, to visit with your family. This is good," he said. "Perhaps you will find your smile in the freezing cold of England."
"My brother's in Romania, which is even colder than England and has more snow."
With a dramatic shudder, Ziyad shook his head. "They say that snow is beautiful, but even for the warmth of family, I do not think I could survive."
"It's not that bad," Bill said, his lips twisting up at one side. "At least I won't have to worry about being attacked by cursed sceptres and flails unlike some people I know."
"You are an evil man, Bill Weasley."
"Some days, Ziyad. Some days."~*~
The Portkey dropped Bill down at the edge of a field just as the sun was starting to set. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the crisp, clean scents of cold air and evergreens. That pleasure lasted about thirty seconds, until a frigid wind blew down off the mountainside and straight through Bill's warming charm and every single layer of clothing he was wearing.
"Merlin's beard," he swore, wrapping his arms around his torso and stamping his feet on the snow-covered ground. "Who the hell decided to turn the heat off?"
Bill spun around, a grin on his face. "And what the dragons want, the dragons get?"
"They're worse than Ginny ever was. Make her look like a piker."
Charlie's hug felt like home, something Bill hadn't known he'd been missing until that moment. He tightened his arms around Charlie and splayed his hands over Charlie's back, feeling the muscles move through Charlie's jumper. Yet, even with Charlie's warmth, Bill started shivering.
"You're freezing," Charlie said, rubbing a hand up and down Bill's back before pulling away.
Shivering harder, Bill muttered, "This place is fucking freezing."
"It is a bit chilly. Just you wait until winter really starts."
"I was in Luxor a few minutes ago," Bill said. "In Egypt
, you wanker, where it was as warm and sunny as an English summer afternoon. It's a sight more than a bit chilly
"Yeah. All right. I'll give you that." Charlie frowned. "And my scarf."
The wool that Charlie wrapped around Bill's neck still held some of Charlie's body heat and a scent that brought up memories of their childhood bedroom. Bill shoved his hands in his cloak pockets and hunched his shoulders, trying to keep the scarf close to his skin as he followed Charlie up the path to a small cottage with a very welcoming plume of smoke curling up from its chimney.
"It's not that big," Charlie said, "but it's warm and I don't figure you'll mind sharing a bed."
Bill was in such a hurry to get away from the cold air that he slammed the door shut so hard the wood vibrated. Not that he cared. He'd already thrown his coat onto the nearest peg and was over in front of the fireplace, crouching down and holding his hands out. When he was sure he could open his mouth without his teeth chattering, he said, "If you promised me it was warm, I'd crawl into Percy's bed right about now."
"Holding your nose and checking for wet spots the whole way." Charlie laughed, and Bill found himself grinning back.
"He's never going to live that down," Bill said. "Poor kid."
"We're his brothers. It's our duty to tease him about everything, especially jerking off right before we have to get into his bed."
The words brought up a memory of Charlie at sixteen, stretched out on his narrow bed, legs apart, hand wrapped around his cock. Bill blinked and forced it away. "Good point," he managed. Then, needing to do something, he made himself comfortable on the floor, sitting cross-legged, unable to think of anything else to say that didn't touch upon the things that they'd avoided for the past year. He unwrapped Charlie's scarf, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck.
Charlie sat down next to him, already stripped of his jumper. "Thought you might be tired tonight," he said. "So I picked up dinner from the kitchens. It's not much. Some kind of stew and a bit of bread. But it should warm you up."
Silence settled between them, occasionally broken by a snap or hiss from the fireplace or the sound of the wind driving snow against the walls and windows. Darkness fell as they sat there, leaving the room lit by the dim and dubious light from the fire, but neither of them so much as reached for a wand to light the candles.
"Do you ever think about," Charlie paused. "Sorry. I shouldn't... we said we wouldn't—"
"All the time," Bill said, not trusting himself to look at Charlie.
"We didn't hurt anyone."
"Not even ourselves?"
"I'd never hurt you," Charlie said, an odd strain to his voice.
Bill ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, still seeing the lick of flames against the inside of his eyelids. "You didn't," he finally said.
Then Charlie was right next to Bill, pushing his way into Bill's arms the way he'd done when they were little kids and the ghoul in the attic had been more frightening than frightened. Bill adjusted to Charlie's presence without thinking, pulling Charlie into his lap, holding him tightly, and pressing his lips on the top of Charlie's head.
"I missed you," Charlie mumbled into the front of Bill's jumper.
"Missed you too."
For a few seconds holding Charlie was enough, but Bill wanted more, needed more. He always had and he always would.
Charlie raised his head, touched his lips to Bill's, and said, "It's just you and me. There's nobody close enough to hear, nobody who'd knock on the door or even think about coming over to interrupt us."
Resting his forehead against Charlie's, Bill traced the outline of Charlie's mouth with a slow sweep of his tongue that drew a groan out of Charlie.
"Tell me that you want me," Charlie murmured, the movement of his lips so soft that it almost tickled.
For a moment, Bill thought about resisting, thought about doing the right thing, the sensible thing, the honourable thing, but then Charlie whispered, "Please," and Bill just couldn't.
Sliding his hands up Charlie's back, Bill buried them into Charlie's hair, curled his fingers and tugged lightly. When Charlie's head was tilted slightly, Bill sucked on Charlie's upper lip and kissed him, hard and demanding, holding everything that Bill couldn't say out loud, biting it into Charlie's lips, thrusting it into Charlie's mouth with his tongue.
Charlie held on tight, scraped his teeth over Bill's lower lip, dragging it out, sending a flash of need through Bill.
"Missed you," Bill said, and then he was twisting around, laying Charlie on the floor, stretching out next to him, half on top of him.
"Yeah, so much." Reaching down, Charlie snagged Bill's wand out of its holster and cast the spells that left them naked, skin touching skin.
Unable to put words to the need that swamped him, Bill slid his hands under Charlie's shoulders, pressed his head into Charlie's neck, and held him tight. They lay there like that for seconds, or maybe minutes, clutching at each other, until Charlie shifted his hips and his cock rubbed against Bill's. This
, Bill thought, as he gave up a battle that he hadn't even realised he'd been fighting. He needed this. Charlie needed this. They needed each other.
Bill raised himself up on one elbow and just looked at Charlie. The firelight seemed to be drawn to Charlie, illuminating his tattoos and turning his freckles to gold. As he watched, a dragon slithered over Charlie's shoulder, drawing a hiss from Charlie as it breathed a tongue of inky flame over one of Charlie's nipples.
Lowering his head, Bill touched his tongue to the dragon's fire, feeling its heat. At first, he indulged in light, barely-there touches that drew a shuddering breath out of Charlie. Then he pointed his tongue, using it to swirl and lick, and he sucked, once, hard.
Charlie's hand flexed against Bill's back, and his breath caught in his chest.
Tweaking the other nipple with his fingers, Bill licked and sucked and nipped. Until Charlie was arching his back, using his hands to try and pull Bill closer and closer. Until Bill was rolling his hips, rubbing his cock against Charlie's thigh.
"Need to hear you," Bill rasped, when Charlie stifled a moan. "Need to know that this is good."
"Then give me more, damn it." Charlie wrapped a leg around one of Bill's. "Don't be so bloody gentle. I need to feel you."
The hoarseness of Charlie's voice curled through Bill and settled at the base of his cock, hot and heavy. He rolled over on top of Charlie and let him take all of his weight for a moment before he knelt between Charlie's legs.
He touched Charlie everywhere. He traced the lines of new burn scars, his own calloused fingertips catching on the rough skin. Alternating gentle caresses with sharp pinches, he felt the bumps of Charlie's ribs, the lines of his muscles, the soft-roughness of his skin, the crispness of his red and curling hair.
When Charlie was muttering at him, calling him names, Bill removed his hands, laid them flat on the floor and began to nip and to suck and to lick. He tasted Charlie, his skin, his sweat, his magic. He hovered for a moment, breathing warm air over Charlie's cock, because he didn't trust himself, wasn't sure he could stop, could retain his control.
"Fuck," Charlie said. "Do it." He thrust upwards, pushing his cock against Bill's lips, forcing that last taste upon him, of urgent, desperate need.
Bill opened his mouth and took Charlie's cock in deep and fast, flattening his tongue and sliding it down and down, but he couldn't do it. He had to reach for his own cock, squeezing the base as he sucked, just once, and pulled off.
"You bastard." Charlie tossed Bill's wand at him. "Stop playing around."
Catching it in mid-air, Bill twirled it, chanted charm after charm. Spells for protection and lubrication, to penetrate and to stretch, to slick his own cock.
"Yes," Charlie hissed. He spread his legs, catching his hands behind his knees, pulling them up, displaying himself for Bill.
The cleft of Charlie's ass glistened with conjured lube, and Bill couldn't help himself. Before he could think, before he could change his mind, he pulled his thumb out and lined up his cock. He pressed the head against Charlie's hole, felt the muscles twitch and flex, and he thrust.
At the feeling, the hot and tight and perfect feeling of being inside Charlie, Bill groaned. He had to close his eyes, to squeeze them tight, and hold himself still. It wasn't quite enough, and it was almost too much. It was everything he needed, everything he wanted, and—
"Stop bloody well thinking," Charlie growled. He wrapped his legs around Bill's hips, dug his heels into the base of Bill's spine and rocked upwards, impaling himself on Bill's cock, pushing him deeper and deeper.
And just like that Bill's control was gone. He pulled out and slammed back in, again and again. He slid a hand between them, found Charlie's already there, and together, they tugged and squeezed, rocked and thrust, moving harder and faster, in a blur of want, need, mine
that rose and rose.
Until Charlie came, clenching around Bill's cock, and Bill as he came with a shuddering cry that wasn't quite Charlie's name. ~*~
Afterwards, they lay there. Bill had his back to the fire. He was curled around Charlie, holding on to him, pressing his face into the crook of Charlie's neck and shoulder. One of Charlie's hands was tangled in Bill's hair; the other was pressed flat just above Bill's ass.
They were sticky and sweaty, but Bill didn't want to move, didn't want to erase the signs of what they done, wanted his marks to stay on Charlie for a little bit longer.
"I'm an evil man," Bill whispered against Charlie's deliciously, perfectly warm skin, and he smiled.