Summer at the Burrow

When they first captured him from Ron’s room in the middle of the night, he was a little apprehensive. After a few closet trips of convincing, however, he began to crave the identical Weasleys.

Every night, he went to bed hoping they would whisk him away back to their room. Mostly, to his disdain, he woke to the sun shining through the window and an unwanted erection prodding at his pajama bottoms.

They weren’t exactly discreet in their capturing but luckily for Harry’s sake, Ron was a heavy sleeper and rarely woke from disturbances. None of the other family members had noticed the strange tension that spilt into the room whenever Harry and the twins were together, or if the did, they didn’t say anything about it. Ginny was perhaps the most suspicious, throwing questions at Harry one after another in hope to catch him off guard and force him to reveal something incriminating. The twins, noticing her behavior, advised Harry to avoid anything she offered and change the subject quite often, He took their words to heart and actually started to avoid Ginny altogether, which only made her more suspicious than ever.

At first, they only met during the cover of night, but it quickly escalated to them sneaking around the house and the yard and wherever else they went. They were nearly caught a handful of times, but that only made the twins more daring, more willing to go farther in public places. Harry was wary of being discovered but that didn’t stop the twins from dragging him into a secluded corner every chance they got.

But now, it was the last day of July and Harry sat excitedly in the kitchen, waiting for Ron to come downstairs so they could depart for the Quidditch pitch.

There were footsteps on the stairs and Harry looked up anxiously, Firebolt across his lap.

“It’s about time, Ron,” he said loudly, “I was going to lea-”

He stopped mid-sentence as the person entered the kitchen, an almost malicious grin showing.

“Oh. Hey, Fred,” Harry said apprehensively, heart beating fast.

“Hey, Harry,” the twin casually replied, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, making his shirt rise a few inches. The-boy-who-lived received a shiver down his spine at the sight of Fred’s hipbone, the redhead’s pants low enough to see a tuft of flaming red hair peeking out from his tight jeans.

“So where are you and Ron heading to?” the twin asked, hooking a thumb through a belt loop.

“Quidditch,” Harry mumbled, shifting the Firebolt in his lap ever so slightly.

“Get in a bit of practice before sundown?” Fred assumed.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t exhaust yourself,” the redhead advised with a smirk, turning his head as more footsteps were heard on the stairs. His grin, if possible, widened at the sight of his twin.

“Hey, George,” Fred said in a sing-song voice, “Harry and Ron are off to play Quidditch as soon as our dear brother comes downstairs.”

George returned the smirk and turned his eyes to Harry, who was fidgeting with his Firebolt.

“Really?” George said, “Well, if you don’t mind, we might join you.” Harry disliked the tone of the twin’s voice, it made him feel uneasy but slightly aroused.

“You don’t mind, do you, Harry?” Fred questioned, pulling his pants down another inch to reveal more skin, hoping to distract or arouse.

The-boy-who-lived nodded numbly, too focused on the redhead’s bare hips to respond. The twins exchanged a glance before heading upstairs to retrieve their brooms.

Harry shifted his Firebolt as it pushed uncomfortably against his half-hard manhood.

A few seconds later, Ron came down the stairs, broom slung over his shoulder and a jubilant expression on his face.

“Ready, Harry?” he asked as he headed for the door.

“We’re waiting for the twins,” the shorter boy said, adjusting his Firebolt so his problem wasn’t noticeable to his friend.

“Great! We’ll play two on two then,” the redhead stated, returning to the table to take a seat next to his best friend.

Ron’s idle chatting went on until the twins emerged from the stairwell, looking slightly flustered and red and brooms in hand.

“We’re ready,” one of them said, holding a Quaffle in his hand.

“Where’d you get that?” Ron asked, slightly in awe.

“Nicked it from school,” George answered proudly, snatching it from his twin. Fred promptly stole it back.

“Shall we go then?” the youngest brother interrupted, stopping the twins from getting out of hand before they were even in the air.

Ron, not looking to see if the three would follow him, left the kitchen. Fred shortly followed after him while George rounded on Harry, who was still seated.

“Come on now, Harry,” he said cheerfully, “Wouldn’t want to make them wait, would we?”

The-boy-who-lived slowly stood up, reluctant to leave his seat.

George’s eyes fell on Harry’s lap, a slight protrusion showing. The younger boy swore that the twin’s eyes gleamed hungrily before they exited the Burrow.

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Whoo! Got this chapter typed up in one sitting! There will be more chapters to come, but I'm working on quite a few stories presently.
Originally, my friend Mari wanted me to write some sexy HP stuff with the twins, so I humbly obliged. While I was writing it, I let her look over it every so often and decide what should happen next, so without her, this would have been about six paragraphs of nothing. o_0
It gets dirtier the next chapter on the field, so don't worry! Hawt sexiness is on the way!
Constructive criticism is welcome! :D