Sweet Dreams

Happy (waaaaaay too early) birthday Marrakech!
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The whole house was quiet. Not a sound could be heard from anywhere. Not even from Ron’s room where, once again, Harry was staying the night. I sighed and turned on my bed again. I had been so restless of late. Probably because Fred had been spending his nights out with his girlfriend. I hated that bitch. She didn’t deserve him.

Then I heard the creak of the wooden stairs. He was back. The bedroom door slowly opened, squeaking on its hinges. I rolled on my back and closed my eyes, with a small moan, pretending to be asleep. Not that Fred cared about me anymore. He’d probably go to bed like he had done for the past two nights. He came home late, stealthily went through the house and up to our room. Once there, he’d strip and fall into his bed, almost instantly passing out.

I heard him move around the room. Listened to him strip his clothes. I waited for the sound of him to fall on his bed and go to sleep. But he didn’t. Instead, he moved around the room some more. This time, it was to my bed.

I felt the blanket on top of me shift, then the bed move under his weight. He kissed my lips.

I groaned at him and shoved him off. “Take it elsewhere Fred.”

“Come on we haven’t done anything for a week.”

“Shove off,” I said again, pushing on his bare chest.

But he didn’t go far. Fred knew all it took for either of us to break to the other was a simple touch. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. I moaned. God, I had missed him the past few days.

His hand trailed down my sides as he shifted above me. He straddled my hips, throwing the blanket that had been covering me to the floor. He looked down at my form with a mild frown. “You’re clothed.”

“And you’re not.”

“I can remedy that,” Fred stated with a sly smile. His hands moved to the hem of my shirt and then under, slowly moving up my chest. A few moments later my shirt joined the blanket down on the floor. Fred smiled down at me, his hands and eyes taking full advantage of my bare chest before him. I tried not to blush under the heat of his gaze, but he noticed this and smiled, leaning forward again and kissing me full on the lips, thrusting his tongue into my mouth.

While we kissed, his hands continued to take advantage of roaming my chest. My body arched towards him and my arms went around his neck. I tried to remember the last time he had kissed me like this. It must have been far too long ago, for I couldn’t remember.

He broke the kiss, and a small whimper left my lips. He smiled again, moving his hands lower, this time to my lower regions. He cupped me, and a sharp moan came from deep within my throat and I arched up towards him. I hated it when he teased me. Which was exactly what he was doing, with his thumb running along the length of me.

His lips once again came to mine as he continued to caress me. His hands left me, and I would have protested, but his lips were keeping mine busy. I felt him slip my boxers off of my hips, down my thighs, and off my ankles. I was too busy running my hand up and down his back to take notice of where he had thrown them.

Now his hands were roaming around my thighs and butt. He allowed one finger to slip inside me. My grip around his neck tightened at the feeling, and he smiled against my lips. A second finger entered, and I kissed him more.

His fingers left me, and I would have given another whimper of displeasure from the fact, but he shifted over me again and I knew what would come next. He slowly pressed himself inside me. My head feel back, breaking off the kiss and I moaned as he slowly entered.

I could feel him fully in me, as I had felt the feeling many times before. He waited, giving me time to adjust, just like he always had before. Then he started to move. Slowly at first, then his speed picked up. I moaned, gripping hold of him and kissing him. God I loved him. I never wanted him to leave me again. He was mine.

His pace quickened some more, and I knew he was coming close to his release so I prepared myself for my own.

He kissed me chastely once.

Then twice...

On the third kiss he moaned, arching his back, deepening himself even more.

My own moan matched his, and I was whole.

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A cold sweat covered my body as my eyes opened. I looked around. I was in my room.

My blanket was tangled around my legs, and my shirt was soaked through. I looked down and found my boxers to have a sticky mess.

I looked over at Fred’s bed. But he was no longer there, and he never would be there again. For the millionth time, I turned on my bed, buried my face in my pillow and cried myself back to sleep.

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A.N.: First, I would like to say that I’m not a Harry Potter fan. I have not read the last three books, and I really don’t plan to.

Second, I wrote this, because Marrakech said that it was just way too sad that one of the twins died, and I told her that I would write a sappy story about George seeing the ghost of Fred and the two doing stuff. A dream works better. She said she’d hurt me if I did.

Anyway, this is my first, and probably last, usage of characters that are not my own. Enjoy.