Birthday Wish Fulfilled for: thiliaFrom:
A Miraculous MemberTitle:
Gone to the WorldCharacters/Pairings:
James/Lily Luna, TeddyRating:
Dub-con/Non-con, Underage (Lily is 15, James is 18), Voyeurism, Masturbation, Tit-fucking, 2nd Person POVWord Count:
Teddy spends an eventful evening at the Potter household.Author's Notes:
Thank you to L and T for all of the excellent suggestions, beta, and cheerleading. Happy Birthday, Daily Deviant! Mystery prompter, I hope you enjoy!
You shouldn’t stare.
You can’t not stare, of course. Not when Lily shifts as she lets out a light snore, her head propped up on the arm of the sofa, pointed in the direction of the Wireless as if she’s not currently gone to the world, and the spaghetti strap of her barely-there pajama top slips off her shoulder. Harpies take possession with Morgan intercepting a pass meant for Robbins, but oh! Puddlemere's Beater, Smith, lobs a Bludger and---yes, Morgan ducks, and it's a miss!
You aren’t the only one staring. You don’t know whether or not to take comfort in that as it’s James eyeing her cleavage right along with you. James, her brother. You’re practically her brother as well, as much time as you’ve spent in the Potter household. Harpies' Seeker circles the pitch, you can smell the tension from here with Simmons pacing her close, gaining on her—Oh! She rolls and dives—did she catch sight of the Snitch? No, it's a feint! But Simmons isn't biting.
Lily’s legs stretch out over her brother’s lap and she wiggles her toes. One of his hands rests on her thigh, just below the hem of her shorts. Your eyes linger, and when he absently starts stroking, light passes of his thumb over her freckled skin, an uncomfortable twitch goes through your body. There’s no blocking this one—and yes, it’s good! Another 10 points for the Harpies.
“Jesus, Teddy. She’s fifteen.”
“What?” You can't stop the heat rushing to your cheeks and you scrub your face in a sad attempt to hide it. You've never been great at using your abilities to mask your emotions. “I wasn’t—I zoned out on the match—your mum just scored.”
James grins, mockingly. He pinches the back of Lily’s thigh and she wakes with a yelp.
“Did ya hear that, Lils? Mum scored.”
“Arsehole.” She slaps his hand and swings her long legs around to sit up, rubbing her eyes. “Is it over yet?”
You shouldn’t stare. You take a swallow of the cheap beer James had you pick up on your way over instead. After three, it’s almost palatable.
“Haven’t caught sight of the Snitch in a while—isn’t that right, Teddy? Probably go on for a couple hours yet.”
“Mm,” you grunt noncommittally.
“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” Lily stands and ropes her long red hair into a messy bun, securing it with an elastic band from her wrist. “Renew the cooling charms, will you? It’s sweltering.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
She flicks James’ forehead, but at his “Ow!”, soothes it with a press of her lips. You’ve seen them do this routine before, but something about the way her kiss lingers tonight brings on that uncomfortable twitch again. You shift and tug at your jeans, wishing you’d kept on your work robes instead.
“Wanker,” she murmurs affectionately, and you’re oddly jealous you only receive her standard, “Night Teddy” in parting.
She grabs a bottle of beer on her way back to her bedroom. You don’t protest until she’s out of sight.
“What?” James says at your look.
“But your dad—“
“Dad’s not home. And he might be a brilliant Auror at work, but he’s clueless in his own house.”
He tips back the rest of his beer and stands. “I’m off as well. Tell us the score in the morning.”
You nod. “Night.”
You finish your fourth beer to the roaring sound of victory as the Harpies win, 250 to 90.
You make your way to the back bedroom, the guest room—but it’s your room more often than not—and pause at the door. Lily’s room is across from yours, and her door lies half open, moonlight spilling over the foot of the bed. Her bare back faces you, smooth skin dotted with pinky-orange freckles and a shallow dip just below her waist. The rest of her curves taunt you from beneath the white sheet. But your mind tumbles down a well-worn path and you imagine slipping the sheets down to find out if she’s slipped out her shorts as well, wonder how her narrow hip would feel under the slight pressure of your hand, how you might follow the elastic band of her knickers, the scratch of it against your skin as you slip your hand inside and—
She sighs, starts to roll to her back, and you quickly duck into your room and lean against your door to close it.
Your heart beats in your throat, the pulse of adrenaline running wild. The pulse of arousal.
You squeeze your fists at your side, your eyes shut tight.
You shouldn’t have come over tonight.
You’re such a sick fuck.
The creak of a door whips you to attention. Footsteps follow, and you wedge your door open just in time to watch James step inside Lily’s room. Before you know what you’re doing, you slip out your room as well and duck into the shadow next to Lily’s open door.
The sheet twists around Lily’s waist, leaving her breasts exposed. James stares at them with the same amount of hunger that's flared inside you. He strokes her leg through the thin sheet and whispers her name as his fingers travel up and over her hip and come to rest on the flat of her stomach.
You inhale sharply. Blink in disbelief. Your feet are like lead, stuck to the floor.
“Lily?” he says again.
You wait for her to wake up, shove him away. Call him a sick perv. Flick his forehead (kiss it better). But she’s still, eyes closed, lips slightly parted.
Gone to the world.
James’ hand creeps upward, fingertips grazing the swell of her breast. He cups it lightly. He runs a finger over her nipple, just so.
Your gaze flickers to her face, but she’s unmoving and relaxed. Peaceful.
All your breath is locked up in your throat as he rounds to the left one, brushing padded fingertips over her dusky-pink nub until it stands at attention, hard and alert. You tell yourself it’s just the beer that makes your mouth water, makes you crave just a taste and imagine what it feels like to have Lily’s nipple pebble under your tongue.
As if reading your mind, James leans over and gives her nipple a lick, just a flick of his tongue, then lets out a shuddering breath. He stares at her face, cups her cheek.
“Not waking up, are you?”
He lingers there, brushing his thumb over her eyelid. He looks as if he wants to kiss her. But he straightens and the moment’s gone. He pushes his pajama bottoms down to the floor, and his prick bounces free and points straight to her. Your own throbs uncomfortably against the zip of your jeans.
You find out Lily did slip out of her shorts before crawling into bed when he pushes the sheet down and reveals she’s only wearing a tiny pair of pink knickers. He fingers the ribbon that rests just above her pubis and his lips curl into a smile.
“What should we do tonight, baby sis?”
His fingers graze briefly between her legs—too briefly—then he carefully climbs on the bed, straddles her waist, and kneels.
You shouldn’t be here.
You should do something—stop him or—Join him.
Your fingers go to the button of your jeans, and you rip open your zip and stuff your hand down your pants just as he brushes the tip of his cock over her lower lip. He closes his eyes; his cock jerks in his fist.
You squeeze your cock and give yourself a stroke. The relief is immediate and overwhelming and you have to fight hard to stifle a groan.
James shifts back ever so slightly and squeezes Lily’s tits together. He spits and saliva drips down the valley of her breasts.
"Oh fuck, Lils," he breathes. Then he lines himself up and fucks between them; his buttocks clench and he's shaking so much, you can almost feel it. Your hand matches his pace as well as it can within the tight confines of your pants, and your breath is harsh, loud in your ears. James groans, hopefully loud enough to drown your own guilty noises out.
Hopefully soft enough that Lily won’t wake up.
(Such a sick fuck.)
Your eyes fall to Lily’s pretty pink knickers, thin enough that you imagine you can make out her ginger curls beneath. Her body rocks gently with James' thrusts and her legs part just a hair. Plenty of room there to sneak in behind James. To mouth her through her underwear. To make her wet and find out what she tastes like. To push aside the strap of cotton and slide yourself between her thighs and slick your cock with her.
Heat flares over your thighs, and you can almost feel her, almost smell her, and you come hard, biting your lip but unable to help your breathless moan. Your hand and pants are a sticky mess—it just keeps coming, roping out of you. You don’t realise your eyes fell closed until you open them and find James has stilled and is looking out Lily’s open door.
Looking towards you.
Your entire body seizes up and you shrink back next to the wall, panting. You wait for the confrontation. You wait for James to find you. To storm out into the hallway. To call you a sick fuck.
(You’re both sick fucks.)
But all is quiet. And your mind grabs on to that last glimpse of Lily with loops of white splattered on her breasts.
When your heartbeat calms and the brain fog clears, you sneak into the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you come out, Lily’s bedroom door is shut.
You wake at dawn, having barely slept, and hope you can sneak out before the rest of the household wakes. But James is already at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and the sports section of The Prophet
, and he catches you before you can get to the Floo.
“Oi, not staying for breakfast? Dad’ll be home soon. You know he always does a mean fry-up after an all-nighter.”
“Early day,” you mumble. You can’t meet his eyes.
“Tonight’s curry night. Are you coming over?”
You mean to just glance at him, but he smiles and you have the sudden desire to punch the smug grin off his face. But you manage to just shrug, even as your face heats.
“Come on, then. Al’s still at the Burrow and Dad’s working again—Mum’s on the road for another couple weeks. It’ll just be me and Lils. We could use the company.”
“I’ll think about it,” you manage to say. You try not to look like you're rushing to the Floo, but your hand shakes, nearly spilling powder across the mantle.
“See you tonight, Teddy,” James says, amusement clear in his voice.
The flames whip green. You step into their embrace.
You shouldn’t come back.
You shouldn’t be here at all.
You’ve never been good at shouldn’t.