Consummation

Series: Love: A Chronicle
Title: Consummation
Author: lingering_nomad
Pairing: Fred/George
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4 723
Warnings: Full on, boi-on-boi, dick-up-arse twincest... and maybe underage sex depending on where you live (the twins are 15).
A/N: This is the follow-up to: Change, Different. Prequel to OWLs, Haunted: Ghosts (posted at DW), Morning Musings.


~CONSUMMATION~


The first time they had real sex was over the Christmas holiday of their fifth year. In their room in the Burrow with their beds pushed together.

They were lying spooned against each other as they’d done countless times before: George in front, Fred moulded to his back, boxers and y-fronts their sole concessions to modesty as body heat and faded racing-broom and golden-snitch covers worked well enough to keep the cold at bay.

It was during the hazy hours of predawn that George stirred to the sensation of Fred’s clothed erection creating an indent along the seam of his pants, nestled into the groove of his arse, moving gently up and down as his twin rolled his hips. Only a few scant weeks had passed since “The Shower Incident,” as George had taken to calling it in his mind, and the memory came drifting through the fog of sleep like a beacon in the mist.

~*~

Merlin, they were being reckless.

They were in the senior lads’ washroom in Gryffindor Tower, having “accidentally” caught the password off Oliver Wood after Quidditch practise a few days earlier. It was well into the a.m. Two brass showerheads drizzled water from overhead, but they were only really making use of one, standing naked and wet with their cocks fat and vertical between their bellies; licking languidly at the inside of each others’ mouths as though they had all the time in the world.

They’d snogged in the showers a couple of times before of course, but they’d never dared to linger this long. George’s hands were twined in the sopping burgundy strands at Fred’s nape, tracing paths along his neck, up to his scalp and back again, while Fred’s hands... Merlin.

George sighed into his twin’s mouth as each of Fred’s hands cupped a palmful of arse and squeezed. Had Freddie ever paid this much attention to his arse before? He couldn’t remember, but then, that might just be because ninety percent of his body’s oxygen-bearing blood supply was currently located south of the border. His cock was throbbing and the wet skin of his buttocks felt super-sensitised for some reason, sending shivers though him with each firm grope and even more so with every light caress his brother lavished on him.

And then there was the curiously acute awareness of a part of his anatomy that he’d never really paid much mind before.

Well, certainly not this much.

Of course he’d thought about it. You couldn’t get hot and bothered with another bloke as often as he did and not think about it, but it was always in the abstract and had never seemed particularly appealing.

Until now.

For as long as either of them could remember, they’d shared a sixth sense about one another that other people seemed to find rather uncanny – knowing what the other was about to say before his lips had even parted to speak; waking up in the middle of the night because the other was having a nightmare; knowing, scores of meters up in the air between swooping teammates and hurtling Bludgers, which manoeuvre the other was about to execute without anything more descriptive than a glance passing between them...

It seemed only natural that that acuity would translate to their more private interactions as well and sure enough, when one of them became aroused the other just knew and so far, neither had ever failed to follow suit. They’d also become rather adept at anticipating each other’s needs without much prompting, seeming to just know whether to drop down and suck or lean in for a snog.

And tonight was proving no exception.

George shuddered, releasing a gasp into Fred’s mouth as he felt fingers curl into the valley of his rear; the warm, slightly tingly sensation between his buttocks flaring just that much brighter. Fred broke the kiss and George’s lashes fluttered, blinking back water to meet his brother’s gaze. Staring back at him from under half-mast lids, Fred’s irises were reduced to thin bands of gold, like twin suns eclipsed behind the deep black centre. Freddie’s tongue peeked out to glide along his upper lip and George’s cock pulsed as the fingers mapping his bottom flexed ever so slightly.

“Can I touch your arsehole?” Fred breathed, his voice barely audible above the hiss and spatter of the water.

George blinked, dislodging a cascade of droplets that had gathered on his lashes.

God.

Classic Fred.

Was there another human being in the entirety of the world who could look another person in the eye and ask something like that so frankly without missing a beat?

Somehow, George doubted it.

Even as half of identical twins, his brother was one of a kind.

Blunt or not, the question sent a rush of awareness prickling across his skin. He blinked slowly, swallowed and finally managed a nod, finding speech a tad beyond his range at the moment.

Fred released a breath through his nose and George realised that his twin had been holding it in as he’d waited for him to respond. For all his Gryffindor daring, his brother seemed even more nervous than he was and George let his hands slide to Fred’s shoulders, massaging gently, quietly offering reassurance as Freddie’s fingers began a slow creep into his cleft.

Fred sucked that luscious bottom lip of his between his teeth, worrying it gently; his eyes intent on George’s as his fingers closed in on their goal.

There was a sense of anticipation in the air that sent lighting up George’s spine the instant his brain registered the light pressure of a fingertip against his most private body part. Until that moment, nobody – not even he himself – had ever touched him there with intent and the intimacy of it was staggering. His hands flexed on Fred’s shoulders and he blinked again, more rapidly this time as water threatened to blur his vision. He was intensely attuned to the sensation of moisture seeping down his spine and between his arse cheeks as he watched Fred’s face, breathing shallowly through his mouth as his brother’s finger moved in the tiniest little circle. The pressure was feather-light, barely registering on his nerves, yet was setting off explosions in his brain.

His hips tilted without his permission and he mewled, the sound escaping before he could catch it as the pressure on his anus increased by the tiniest of increments. His eyes widened and Fred’s did the same, bright with tense excitement, seeming to drink in every nuance of George’s expression.

Fred kept entirely still for a moment, simply staring at George’s face. Then he felt the pressure increase just that much more as a second finger lined up with the first, circling his water-slicked pucker in a slow, deliberate movement that had the tiny whorl of skin twitching in appreciation. The scents of soap and arousal filled his lungs on the back of the sultry air as he began to pant, feeling more than a little awed at his body’s reaction to the barely-there stimulation.

“Good?” Fred questioned redundantly, his voice so low that it was that uncanny sense of theirs, more than George’s ears, which alerted him that his twin had spoken at all. Again he could only nod, letting his eyelids flutter closed as he tilted his bottom backward by another degree, feeling his brother’s fingertips press right to the centre of... the centre of what could well serve as the entrance to his body.

“Oh God,” he moaned breathlessly, letting his head take up a perch in the crook of Fred’s neck.

Did he actually want his brother to put his... his cock – there? Where his fingers were? To press against him and keep pressing until... George made a noise low in his throat as a shiver skittered through him. It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself these question of course, but it was the first time an answer seemed pertinent. All he knew was that he didn’t want Fred to stop massaging his hole anymore than he wanted him to stop the slow grind of his cock against his, which was not at all.

“God, Freddie,” he crooned, turning his head to suck lightly on the skin at the juncture of Fred’s neck and shoulder, earning a little hum of approval as Fred’s head fell back, baring the wet skin of his throat to George’s lips and tongue. It took some doing, but George found a rhythm, licking and kissing and swallowing mouthfuls of Fred-flavoured water, while rolling his hips between his brother’s fingers on his arsehole and Fred’s cock on his own. His hands took to roaming Fred’s back, tracing his spine, up to his shoulders and down again along his ribs, feeling the circular rubbing against his anal ring increase in pressure and speed along with the momentum of their frottage.

At last his grip settled on Fred’s hips, his fingers clenching convulsively, digging into the silky-soft skin there to draw his brother nearer.

Oh fuck, they were so close!

Fred’s balls were flush with his and he could feel the orgasm building there, the velvety sack tight and heavy as it throbbed against his own. He sought Fred’s mouth and they kissed deeply until they ran out of air. When their lips parted, neither went far and they stood there, panting into each other's mouths with their eyes closed, identical divots of pleasure-pain wedged between their brows as their lust began to crest.

The churn of their hips became erratic and then Fred bucked harshly, his cock thrusting up against George’s – the fingers teasing his bottom curling inward – and George’s eyes popped open, wide as they’d go as he felt just the very tips of those fingers, not even the full width of a fingernail, breach his hole and slip inside.

The tips of Fred’s fingers... were touching inside him.

George’s eyes rolled up into his skull as he came and Fred followed seconds in his wake, adding his contribution to the white streaks painting their bellies.

They held each other as the spasms ebbed, inhaling each other’s breath as they stood with their foreheads pressed together, hair plastered to their necks and cheeks as the shower rained down on them from above, washing away the evidence of their pleasure.

Fred had been the one facing the door and it was nothing short of providence that had him opening his eyes in time to spot the movement of the handle pressing down. He barely had a second to leap back, almost sending George into a sprawl at the sudden loss of support, before Percy’s scowling visage appeared inside the washroom, demanding to know why they weren’t using their own year’s facilities and what on Earth was up with taking showers at such an unholy hour anyway?

The Perfect Prefect didn’t even wait for an explanation before docking points.

And from his own House at that.

~*~

Lying in bed with his brother now, revelling in the indolent warmth of their intertwined bodies amidst the comforting topography of their childhood domain; their belongings shadowed in twilight but still familiar, it felt to George as though they were alone in the world. Just the two of them in their own little universe, making their own rules, doing what felt right without fear of intrusion. Here, now, there was no need to censor themselves.

He sighed to himself, feeling that warm insistence ignite between his buttocks as his cock stirred to life.

He hummed softly, so pliant and relaxed as he pressed back against his brother, feeling the hard smoothness of Fred’s chest against his back; the heat of his erection even through two layers of cloth. Fred sighed as well, a sound of contentment at the added pressure on his morning wood. They were lying on their left sides with Fred’s right arm draped across George’s chest and he tightened his hold, lips pressing to the crook of George’s neck and sucking lightly, mouth working in tune with the languid, rhythmic undulation of their hips.

There was nothing specific that prompted George into action. No goading thought or stark instant of realisation and damning of consequence. As with everything else involving this brother, this lover – this soulmate – of his, he simply followed where intuition directed him to go. There was no questioning, no hesitation, not even something as concrete as a decision being made. It was simply a matter of the time being right. Like with every other eventuality in their lives – learning to fly, losing a first tooth, going off to Hogwarts – it was simply part of the ebb and flow of inevitabilities that made up their lives and like everything else, it was only right that they would embark on this together.

No words were needed to ensure that they were on the same page. George knew that Fred knew, just as he knew that Fred understood the same about him.

He hooked a thumb in the waistband of his pants and worked them down until his bottom was bared. Fred reached over wordlessly and helped him ease the front down too, pulling the material all the way off his legs to be kicked aside, and then both of them reached out to get Fred stripped as well. The covers ended up on the floor in the process, but the room had built up a pleasant cosiness during the night and the temperature was hardly a consideration as they lay back in the same position they’d slept in; George in front, Fred behind, both of them drawing in wobbly breaths as Fred’s cock, rock-hard and pointing straight up at his belly, slid unobstructed against George’s rear.

Lying on their sides as they were, George bent his right knee, drawing it closer to his chest. He sighed softly as the silk-sheathed bar of Fred’s arousal became sandwiched between the swells of his bottom, the velvety hardness pressing flush against the most intimate place on his entire physique. He felt a dribble of moisture high on his left buttock, right where Fred’s cockhead was currently lodged, and realised with a little shiver that his brother was already leaking.

George was hardly a stranger to the feel and shape of his twin’s erection and it wasn’t just because they were “identical to the last freckle” as they often heard people say. He handled Fred’s cock just about as often as he did his own. Possibly more so since he could take Freddie’s in his mouth and his darling doppelganger was ever so diligent about reciprocity. All in all, in more ways than one, his brother’s genitals were as familiar to him as any piece of his own anatomy, but... Merlin knew, no part of his own anatomy had ever touched him the way Fred’s cock was doing right now.

This was new and exhilarating in its novelty, yet strangely calming at the same time – as if addressing a need that had been there for years, but that he’d never quite known how to name.

Fred reached over him, finding one of their wands on the bedside table and pulled it into the all-but-non-existent space between them, the wood scraping along George’s spine until the tip came level with the little rise at his tailbone. Fred incanted under his breath (George caught the words “Laxo Lubricus”) and in the next instant he felt something warm and wet seep into his cleft, making Fred’s erection slide against him sensually as his twin’s shaft was drenched as well. It wasn’t water, but it wasn’t exactly oil either. All George could think to compare it to was the sensation of warm satin running along his skin, but in liquid form. Fred’s hand withdrew and the wand found its way back to the nightstand, giving George a moment to wonder when and how his twin had picked up that particular spell.

The hand found its way back in-between them then, taking the place of Fred’s cock inside George’s slickened groove. His thoughts scattered like so many startled birds as Quidditch-calloused fingers located the little furrow of his arsehole and focused there, gently caressing, working the slippery stuff toward the centre of the puckered skin and... George sighed again, his jaw going slack as Fred eased a finger inside.

His twin held utterly still for a moment, save for the spasmodic throbbing of his prick against the curve of George’s arse, proving that his brother was far from unaffected by the progression of events.

After a moment, the finger pulled out, circling the perimeter of his anus, gathering up more of the lubricant before slipping back in. George cooed and swore softly, squirming a little, luxuriating in the sensations his brother’s touches were setting off. As Fred worked the slippery stuff into him, a pleasant tingle spread along his inner walls – everywhere his twin’s finger touched. He could feel his body relaxing; the ring guarding his insides steadily loosening. A second finger pressed in then, breaching him with hardly any resistance and immediately went to work, sliding in and out alongside the first, conspiring with the ooze to get him stretched and prepared.

The fingers withdrew as Fred once again leaned over to reach for a wand and George could feel the tremor in his brother’s arm as it rested against his ribs for a moment.

They’d been lying all but flush with each other throughout, but as Freddie resettled he scooted back a bit, widening the gap between their bodies. His left arm, which had been tucked under the pillow, was pulled free and George’s eyes shot open, more from surprise than actual discomfort as two new fingers plunged into his yielding passage, all the way passed the second knuckles in a single motion and immediately started scissoring inside him.

Fred’s hands were shaking fiercely now.

George could feel it in the digits prying him open as well as in the slight tremble of the wand bracing against the swell of a buttock a moment before Fred recast the lubrication spell – right up against his splayed opening. He gasped, arching a little as the warm liquid flooded him, filling his rectum to overflowing and spilling down his bottom to drip onto the sheets. Somewhere in his brain, a few lonely cells managed to fret over the possibility of the magical ooze staining the linens and the likelihood of their mother identifying the splodges accurately it if it did, but the worry was a distant, fuzzy thing as other far more potent emotions roiled inside him.

Fred’s digits pumped in and out a few more times, making George gnaw on his bottom lip, brow screwed up in concentration as he fought to keep the decibels down. Fred shifted again, his fingers pulling free of George’s hole and causing another surge of the overabundant lubricant to leak out of him. The wand was discarded with a muffled clatter on the floor and in the next instant Fred’s right hand had grasped George’s thigh, just north of the knee; the silky slickness of the lubricant still warm on the fingers pressing into George’s skin as his leg was hoisted. Fred’s left arm tunnelled between the mattress and George’s ribs, curling across his front, drawing him impossibly close and... and then came the blunt dome of Fred’s cockhead nudging against his hole.

“Georgie,” Fred choked out in a voice so hoarse and shaky it sounded close to tears.

George’s reply was to reach back, gripping his twin’s cock and holding it steady as he tilted his bottom backward; accepting, surrendering, conquering and owning all at once. Even after such a thorough prepping, he made an effort to relax as he pushed back on his brother, listening to Fred’s helpless panting against his nape. His anus felt so slack and slippery that George was mildly confidant that Fred could push a fist into him without too much discomfort (not that he intended to test that theory, mind) and his twin’s cock certainly proved no problem as the head breached him with nary a twinge.

Of pain that is.

Because, Merlin help him, there were other sensations. Far, far more intense than twinges!

Fred cried out. Thankfully not loudly enough to carry beyond the walls of their room, but not exactly in a whisper either.

George, for his part, shuddered from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair as his body arched of its own accord, breath gone from his lungs as he felt the slight abrasion of pubic hair against the swells of his arse.

He’d impaled himself in a single thrust.

He was breathing harshly, unable to draw enough air as waves of hot and cold rippled over his skin. His cock was throbbing and he could feel Fred’s throbbing as well. Inside him. Oh fuck! Oh God! Fred was inside him!

His every nerve, every cell became suddenly attuned to that hot pulsing sensation in the depths of his body. Foreign, yet so very very welcome. He would wonder later if he’d imagined it; if it had been a simple case of endorphins distorting his senses, but in that moment he could feel his heart adjusting to the rhythm of that pulsing warmth within him, taking that beat for its own, and in that second he was one with his twin in more than simply a physical sense.

Blood roared in his ears. His chest heaved as he panted and he could feel Fred’s fingers digging almost painfully into the tensed muscles of his upraised thigh. The arm across his chest bound him like an iron vice, Fred’s hand squeezing convulsively against his pectoral. His brother was trembling so hard it felt like he was having a seizure and then came the desperate words, hissed into George’s hair.

“Too...much... I—I’m—”

Fred’s speech twisted off like a strangled thing as his hips started bucking in sharp, quick little jabs and then George felt the cock inside him swell and twitch, followed shortly by a surge of wetness and heat, followed by another, and another...

He lost count at four.

All that mattered was that Fred was coming inside him. His brother, his lover, his soulmate – his Freddie – was pumping him full of spunk!

The thought was like a tidal wave crashing.

George reached back blindly, snagging Fred’s hip and drawing him closer as he pressed his bottom backward, pulling yet another impossible centimetre of his twin inside him and keeping him there, his portal convulsing in time with the spasms of the prick stretching him so thoroughly. George’s other hand plunged between his thighs to squeeze his own trembling shaft and Fred’s prick was still twitching inside him when his own orgasm broke, dousing the bed in ribbons of white; a few streams overshooting the bed entirely to create a puddle on the floor.

Overwhelmed and utterly spent, they went limp in each other’s arms.

George was vaguely aware of moisture on his lashes, but it didn’t matter because an answering wetness was dripping onto his neck where his brother’s face was pressed against his skin. Fred had both arms wrapped around him now, holding him tight and George responded by moving his right hand where it still rested, nerveless and shaky, against Fred’s hip, cupping the slight curve of creamy skin and stroking it gently with his thumb. His left hand came up to close ‘round one of Fred’s forearms, squeezing meaningfully.

His brother didn’t seem to have the energy to pull out of him and George didn’t have the will to move away. They lay nestled together, their bodies communicating what their minds were too overwrought to convey.

“Beautiful,” was the last semi-cognisant thought George had before he passed out altogether, his twin still buried inside him.

~*~

It occurred to George the following night (while Fred was sucking on his tongue in a rather intriguing synchronicity with the ripples of his inner walls around George’s hard-as-nails prick) to be a little surprised at the position they’d chosen for that pivotal First Time.

There was just something about jabbing his tongue into Fred’s mouth at the same moment as he rammed his cock up the other end of him, he couldn’t help but think as a low groan passed from his brother’s throat into his. The position they’d taken before hadn’t exactly lent itself to easy lips locks, but there weren’t any regrets and it certainly hadn’t mattered to them then.

They loved snogging though; had never done anything without getting some of it thrown in and as Fred clenched his arse and arched into him, the last clear thought George managed was to wonder if it was somehow significant that their first time joined together had proven the exception.

~*~

It was months later, during the first week of summer that Great Auntie Muriel Floo-ed in for a visit and Mum just couldn’t resist breaking out the family photo album.

Fred was in the kitchen, teasing Ginny under the guise of helping with refreshments, while George lingered in the living room, half mortified, half nostalgic as his mother turned the pages. Mum had kept the Prenatal Wizarding Scans of all of them and George had been grimacing queasily as he watched the quasi-human lumps that had once been Bill and Charlie and Percy-the-Prat squirming about on little pieces of glossy parchment. His mother admonished that his and Fred’s picture was up next and George opened his mouth, a snappy comeback lined up for deployment, when Mum turned the page and the words died on his tongue.

A string of expletives from Ginny preceded Fred’s rather brisk emergence from the kitchen. “Okay, okay! I’m going! Sheesh. Talk about hell hath no fury— Hey you lot, made it passed the 80’s Hair Parade... yet?”

The last word was spoken a little more gently than the first as he lined up with George behind the sofa, catching sight of the picture in their mother’s lap of two little humanoid shapes, spooned front to back in a weightless world of warmth and darkness and the throb of a heartbeat; perfectly formed little hands touching, learning each other with the only sense at their disposal as yet.

George’s hand came up then, settling lightly on Freddie’s shoulder. From the outside, the gesture would seem casual enough, but the two of them knew better as George caught Fred’s gaze, seeing his own sense of wonder mirrored in his living reflection’s eyes.

~FIN~

End A/N: Ah, don’t you just love WAFF *melts*

And now for a (not so) quick rant on underage magic:

There are so many inconsistencies in the enforcement of this prohibition, that I pretty much figure it’s one of those laws that gets broken every day and it’s just bad luck if you happen to be the poor stooge that ends up being made an example of – like Harry. Even in his case the enforcement seemed kinda fickle. Like the vanishing glass at the zoo and the spontaneous Apparating to escape Dudley’s gang. Where were the letters of warning then? I don’t buy the whole “tracers on the wands” argument either, or wandless magic (like Dobby blowing up the pudding or Harry inflating his aunt) wouldn’t have gotten him into trouble. Also, judging from Fudge’s reaction, it just doesn’t strike me as the sort of thing the Ministry really takes all that seriously. So yeah, bring on the underage lube spells!

As always constructive criticism/comments/squee-ing are welcomed, so if you’ve read this far, please review.