Eggnog Later

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rowling owns them all. I merely play with her characters.

“This isn’t fair.”

“Did you hear that, Fred?”

“Silly girl thinks we play fair, George.”

“Thought you knew us better than that, pet.”

“I am not your pet,” Hermione said sharply as she tugged at the bindings on her wrists. She was trying to figure out what they’d used to tie her to the bed and shifted against the soft cotton sheets as she struggled to get free. The last time they’d tied her up (without permission prior), they’d used the usual constringo charm and let magic keep her in place.

She should never have let them know she knew a counter-charm to free herself, which she had learned shortly after becoming involved with them both. After all, a girl had to be on her toes when she was involved with not one but two frustrating, annoying, sexy, and mischievous men. After her friendship with Fred and George had become something far more personal and intimate, much to all of their pleasant surprise, she’d learned several counter-curses for some of the kinkier magic they liked to use in the bedroom. They didn’t know, of course, but she liked to be prepared.

She’d been so mad at them both that day, however, that she’d let the charm slip and found herself free from the magic bindings. They’d both apologized for surprising her and not asking first, especially knowing how much trust it took for her to allow them to do such a thing to her, and promised (obviously with fingers crossed, the gits) to not do it again.

That had lasted all of six weeks. Once again, she found herself blindfolded and tied up. They always used a blindfold instead of magic because it meant they didn’t need to pick up a wand to remove the charm when they were ready for her to see, but it was the first time in nearly a year of shagging that they’d not used magic to bind her. It was different to feel material around her wrists instead of the strong but pliable grip of magic.

“If you keep pulling like that, you might rub your skin raw,” Fred muttered, his fingertips gently caressing the sensitive skin of her wrist.

“Stop fighting it, Hermione. You know you like this,” George whispered against the underside of her breast.

“You love when we have our wicked way with you,” Fred agreed before his lips brushed against her palm. “You love when we take you, drive you wild with need and desire, and finally make you scream.”

“That’s beside the point,” she protested in a harsh whisper. “We’re not at home, if you don’t happen to remember. We’re at the Burrow and your family is right downstairs. We can’t play this game here. Let me go so we can go back downstairs before we’re missed.”

“No,” Fred said simply. “Don’t tell us you’re not excited about this, Granger. You’re already so fucking wet and we’ve not even started to touch you.”

“Turns you on to know that we’re doing this in our old bedroom, doesn’t it, pet?” George asked before his tongue snaked out and lapped at her nipple. “Do you think we shut the door or did we leave it wide open so anyone could come up here and watch us make you fall apart?”

“Oh God,” she moaned as she realized she honestly didn’t know if they’d shut the door or not. They were so daring and unpredictable, always trying new things and shocking her with their creativity and desires, not that she didn’t surprise them on occasion, as well.

No, they’d never leave the door open where any of their family could wander by. It was awkward enough with them being involved with the same girl and had taken time for Molly to accept their unconventional relationship. They’d not risk upsetting their mum by shagging her right upstairs with the door open.

Would they?

“Look at that, George. I think she likes that idea,” Fred remarked as her body shuddered at the wicked thought of Bill or Charlie standing in the doorway and watching.

“Such a naughty little slut, our Hermione,” George said affectionately.

Hermione whimpered as she pulled at the bindings and arched off the bed. The material around her wrist was rough and her fingers moved over it as she tried to focus on getting free and not what George was currently doing to her breast. It felt oddly familiar, she realized. She was pretty certain they’d used her own scarf to secure her right wrist. It was soft and warm, and she’d taken it off and put in her coat pocket when they first arrived.

“They’d all be shocked to know that shy ickle Granger was really a passionate, wicked temptress,” Fred declared before he nipped at her neck.

A tie? She tried to remember if either of them had worn a tie to Christmas dinner. They’d been wearing jumpers, both of them. No one else had been wearing a tie, either, so she knew they’d not borrowed it from one of their brothers, thank God. She could imagine how embarrassed she’d be if they’d borrowed someone’s tie so they could bind her to the bed and fuck her during the middle of Christmas dinner with their family.

“I think she’s stopped paying attention to us, Fred.”

“Does look that way, George. Whatever shall we do to get her to stop thinking?”

“I’ve got an idea, brother dear.”

She felt the bed shift and bit her lip when she heard the sound of kissing. Wet and loud, they were deliberately tormenting her. Her eyes closed behind the blindfold and she could see them behind her eyelids. Shaggy red hair askew, mirror images kissing and touching, freckled skin touching to a point she’d not know where one ended and the other began. She heard a familiar groan and knew Fred was touching George’s cock. George was always a bit more guttural, more intense in the sounds he made whereas Fred was louder, more open and giving.

“Stop,” she moaned when they kept kissing and she could hear the sound of skin rubbing skin. She hated not being able to see them, to watch them together regardless of how so very wrong it was for brothers to kiss and touch.

“Got her attention,” Fred murmured in a voice thick with desire.

“Told you it would work,” George said somewhat smugly.

“Smug prat.”

“Whiny git.”

The bed shifted again and she felt one of them against her. It didn’t take her long to decide it was George. He was always just a bit warmer than Fred and his fingers were just slightly more rough. He was touching her belly and ribs as he licked and sucked her breasts. There was more movement followed by footsteps and then the mattress went back down with the weight of Fred.

Before she could ask them to remove the blindfold, she felt something soft brush against her throat.

“Good idea, brother mine,” George complimented as he let her nipple go for a moment. He rolled the wet bud between his thumb and forefinger, tugging in the way that made her eyes roll back and wetness drip from her cunt. His cock was pressed against her thigh, swollen and leaking pre-come, and he rolled his hips just slightly as he rutted against her leg while teasing her.

“We’re gonna play a game, Granger,” Fred told her, drawling her last name in the way he knew aroused her. Normal people got off on being called affectionate nicknames. She got off on hearing him drawl her last name in that smug and sexy tone. He moved the soft surface along the hollow of her throat and along her collarbone.

“What sort of game?” she asked breathlessly. She tried to rub her legs together for some sort of friction but George stopped that quickly. He moved his leg over hers and began to rub his upper thigh against her cunt.

“The kind that’s going to make you scream,” George replied before he bit her breast.

“What do I have in my hand?” Fred asked as he dragged the soft object across her sweaty skin. “If you guess correctly, you’ll be rewarded. If you guess wrong, we’re going to leave you like this while we go downstairs and get a glass of eggnog.”

“Bastard,” she hissed as she rode George’s thigh. “I’m going to get you both back for this, you know?”

“Promises, promises.” George laughed as he rolled to the side and moved his hand between her legs. “You’re so wet, Hermione. The sheets are soaked with your arousal and your cunt is practically sucking my fingers inside, you’re that ready.”

“You can protest all you want, but we know you fucking love for us to tease you until you’re begging, until you lose control,” Fred whispered against her ear. “You’re so amazing like this. You should see yourself, Granger. Tied up, nipples hard, skin flushed, lips swollen, cunt dripping wet. Can you smell how aroused you are? Can you feel what you do to us?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Please, Fred, George. I need more.”

George thrust two fingers inside her, his thumb rubbed her clit, and she felt the tension begin to build. “Not yet, pretty pet,” he muttered as he pulled his hand back.

“Tell me what I’m holding,” Fred urged hoarsely. “Tell me and we’ll fuck you so hard, Granger. So hard you won’t be able to sit for days.”

George was between her legs now, his tongue lapping at her pre-come, licking her arse. She cried out when he pressed his wet fingers into her arse and began to thrust his tongue in and out of her cunt, fucking her with it and pulling back before she could come. “Tell him, Hermione. Tell him so I can slide into your cunt and make you scream.”

She gasped when his palm landed on her hip in a stinging slap and clenched around the fingers in her arse at the unexpected sensation. She didn’t have to see to know that Fred was watching them with hungry eyes. She could hear his heavy breath against her ear and felt his cock twitch against her side. A groan escaped her lips when she felt fingers on her leg before they wrapped around Fred’s erection and began to stroke. George wanked his brother with one hand while fucking her arse with the other.

The softness brushed across her wet nipple and she tried to focus, to determine what it was so she could guess correctly and win the game. Something sharp scraped against her rib suddenly and she felt wetness on her skin. It scratched as Fred moved it and then the soft brushed over it. “A quill!” she exclaimed as she suddenly recognized the item. “It’s a quill. The feather of a quill.”

“Finally!” George growled as he pulled his fingers out of her arse and lunged upwards. She arched off the bed when he thrust into her. She was so wet and ready that he slid inside easily. She came as soon as he ground against her clit, her cunt tightening around him as she finally found the sweet release they’d withheld for so long.

Fred ripped the bindings from her wrist and she immediately pulled the blasted blindfold off. She noticed that the door was closed when George rolled them over. She was still trembling from her orgasm as she began to ride him. She scratched his chest the way that made him moan and kept moving up and down hard. There was no gentle or soft by this point.

A finger on her arse caused her to look over her shoulder. Fred arched a brow as he stroked his cock and looked at her desperately. She leaned forward and nodded, whimpering when George raised his head to lick her dangling breasts. Fred moved behind her and held her hip with one hand while he held his cock with the other as he began to press into her. George stopped moving, his hand on her other hip, and waited for his brother.

“Fuck,” she hissed as Fred began to make shallow thrusts. He kissed her back and shoulders and whispered soft words against her skin as she tried to relax. Finally, he was inside her. They stayed that way, both of them filling her completely, for a moment and then they began to move.

Everything became a blur after that. She was surrounded by hard, hot, sweaty skin, lips and tongues kissed and sucked, hands caressed and squeezed. Fred came first, spilling into her arse and splashing onto her lower back when he pulled out. She didn’t know who came next. She felt fingers on her clit, heard Fred urging them to come for him, and then she saw spots and felt George shatter beneath her.

Hermione collapsed between them, gasping for breath, body still shuddering, covered in the scent of sweat and sex, a twin curled up against both sides. When she was able to move, she glanced at the headboard and saw one of their old schoolties, the Gryffindor crest displayed proudly, and her scarf were they’d been left after Fred ripped them both from her wrists.

They were cuddling her now, nuzzling her neck and breasts, content and sleepy like two lazy felines, their legs a tangle of limbs on top of the soft sheets. George kissed her and then she rolled her head slightly and kissed Fred. When she was able to speak, she murmured, “We really should get back downstairs before someone misses us.”

“Nap first,” Fred muttered as he pulled the blanket over them.

George sighed and smiled a sleepy, lazy smile. “Eggnog later.”

The End