Seconds

"Must you flirt with every creature you come across, human or non?" George asked as Fred bent sweepingly to kiss the gnarled-looking hand of a blushing (one could only assume, anyway, as her green cheeks were tinged pink) house-elf called Nettie.  They were standing in the school kitchens, having just finished some business in the owlrey and fancying a sweet - nevermind that it was approaching midnight.

Fred grinned rakishly at his brother as Nettie scurried away, giggling spritely to herself and teetering like an unsteady ship.  "No," he answered, chuckling as Nettie tripped over a stray spoon on the way to the refrigerator.  "My Potions marks actually dropped when I complimented Snape on his physique, remember?"

"Asking him whether his knob is as crooked as his nose hardly qualifies as a compliment on his physique, Fred," George said, tossing his head back in a laugh.

"Well, in any case, it sure works a treat in here!"  Nettie was hurrying back towards them with a tray of tea and various colorful-looking puddings, her huge violet eyes shining with excitement.

"Is this what Sirs wanted?" she squeaked, looking square at Fred as she skidded to a stop in front of them, almost upending the tray.  Behind her, several other house-elves glared over in irritation at her clumsiness.  Fred and George both bit back grins.

"Oh, it's just brilliant, Nettie love," said Fred, steadying the tray and settling it on the counter with his characteristic grace.  "I really must say, George, that if one wants top-notch service, this is the place to be!"

Nettie shuddered with pleasure and her gaze fell sideways in a gesture of embarrassed gratitude.  "Oh, Sir, you flatter Nettie."

"It's not flattery if it's true," Fred said, nodding and lifting a small square of chocolate gateau to his curling lips and taking a bite.  "Thank you."  He met Nettie's tennis-ball eyes unfalteringly until she made an excited sort of squeal and made, lop-sidedly, for the other side of the room, where the other house-elves were just finishing the tidying.  She glanced back over her shoulder to see Fred still watching her, grinning, and almost walked into the oven.

George stared at his brother, shaking his head.  "You're going to be sorry when she appears at the end of your bed one night wearing some elf version of scanty knickers."

"As long as she brings chocolate," Fred answered, turning to look into George's amused face, "I wouldn't throw her out."  Fred had a dollop of icing directly in the center of his lower lip.

George smiled.  With his glittering eyes, messy mouth, and cap of bright red hair, Fred, himself, resembled some sort of ridiculously delicious-looking fairy cake, and George couldn't help but think perhaps he'd like Nettie to deliver his cheeky arse on a tray for dessert.  "Right.  Chocolate," George answered, letting his eyes dart around the room.  Finding the house-elves all otherwise occupied, George caught Fred's chin in the palm of his hand and leaned in to wrap both of his lips around Fred's bottom one.  Sucking just the lightest bit, he ran the tip of his tongue over the offending icing, then gave one quick thrust into Fred's mouth before pulling away to gauge his reaction.

Immediately, Fred lit up like a Whiz-Bang, his eyebrows arching in a sort of insubordinate delight.  He jammed one of his slender fingers pointedly into the gateau and scooped up more icing.  Checking over his shoulder, he took a fast step toward George and shoved his finger between his lips.  George gave a hard suck, pulling Fred's finger all the way back into his throat, and before the laugh could find its way out of either of their chests, Fred's other hand was wrapped tightly around his brother's loosened school tie, pushing him unyieldingly towards the pantry door.

It opened with a stiff yank and cracked George's shoulder blade.  Fred's hand went straight to clutching and soothing at the bumped flesh there when George yelped, startled, even as he pushed him backwards through the threshold.  "Sorry, mate," he muttered, elbowing the pantry door shut behind them and turning to budge George roughly into the wall beside some shelves, which were stacked high with various cans and boxes.

" 'S'okay," George answered, his voice cut short by Fred's simpering kiss, which crashed with waggish merriment against his lips.  The laughter that vibrated between them quickly morphed into something more fierce as George bit down and felt Fred grab a fistful of his collar.

It was pitch black inside the pantry, but neither of them needed to see.  They navigated each other's bodies with an expertise borne both of similarity and experience: George dug his blunt fingernails into the back of Fred's neck, knowing the exact pressure necessary to give him an instant and aching hard-on; Fred sucked ferociously at George's tongue as he tugged sharply on his hair, anticipating the jagged, desperate moan that rumbled through him and silencing it. 

Fred had just wrestled George's shirt out of his trousers and was making quick work of his buttons (one, two, three, jackpot! he thought, finding George's lovely, flat belly with his thumb) when Nettie's voice came bouncing through the door.  "Sirs?" she called in that dog-toy tone of hers.  "Sirs?"

Despite their precarious situation, both Fred's and George's faces broke into identical grins, which met one another in the darkness.  "Shhhhh," they hissed in harmony, making both of them break into giggles, which they stifled against each other's hot, furiously pulsing necks. 

"See what you've done?" George whispered, amused, against Fred's ear.  

"Sirs?" Nettie continued, concern pitching her voice even higher.  "Oh, no!  Sirs have forgotten their tea!"

"Quiet it," Fred retorted, licking the hollow of George's throat, letting his tongue linger against the steady thrumming of blood there.  "You're just jealous, you lout."  He snaked his hands between their bodies and pressed against the flesh under George's shirt, running his palms over George's chest as George reached around and kneaded his arse.

"And their pudding!" wailed Nettie from the kitchen.

"Mmmm, right," George said, sliding his hands around until he had both of Fred's hipbones securely cupped.  They fit like two sturdy, jutting saddlehorns there.  George squeezed and let his thumbs wander between them, brushing against Fred's cock.  "I wish I were three feet tall.  Dick-sucking height, yeah?"

Fred's back arched at the pressure, and at George's words, and he moaned quietly into the space behind George's ear, which he was nipping at wickedly.  Their now-stiff cocks slid against one another through the fabric of their trousers.

"And their wands!" came Nettie's now near-hysterical voice.

This stopped them both where they stood.  Their eyes met in the darkness, somehow finding one another by instinct.  "Oh, buggering shite," hissed George, picturing their wands lying side-by-side on the counter next to the tea tray, where they'd lain them to chat lightly with Nettie. 

Fred shook his head, his fringe brushing the bridge of George's nose.  He leaned harder into his brother with his hips.  "That won't do," he whispered, "will it?  I'm going to need that."

George felt his cheeks flush even more deeply.  "We could do it the way Muggles do," he suggested roguishly, hooking two fingers inside the waistband of Fred's trousers and drawing a quick, slippery circle across the head of his cock.

Fred's hips bucked and rolled and he squirmed into George's touch.  "That's barbaric," he teased, fitting his own palm over the bulge at the front of Georges trousers.  "You won't be walking right for days, forget about riding a broom."

"Only broom I care about riding is yours," answered George, mashing his mouth back against Fred's and fumbling at Fred's fly.  He pulled the zip apart.

Fred broke the kiss and pushed a finger against George's lips.  "Now, now, you gagging little whore," he chuckled gently, causing George to palm the side of his face in a mock-slap.  "We're doing this properly.  I won't have you limping to Madam Pomfrey complaining you've been buggered too roughly.  Now shut up."

Before George could protest (though he did manage to get a mostly-affectionate grip on Fred's bollocks in time for Fred's voice to resemble Nettie's somewhat when he spoke), Fred hollered out through the door, "Nettie love!  Nettie!  Not to worry; we're in here!"

"Sirs?" Nettie answered, sounding a bit confused, though relieved.

"Yes, here, in the pantry Nettie," Fred called back.  George, still slightly irked at having been told to shut up, worked his face into a mischievous smile.  He pulled Fred tightly against his body so that the shell of Fred's ear was near his mouth and began to moan.  Fuck me, he implored, his voice low and needy and loud enough to be slightly alarming, but not to carry through the door.  Fuck me, Freddie.  Fuck me.  He rolled his hips lasciviously.  Fuck me.

"I --"  Fred's voice broke, and he tried to pull back from George, his pulse suddenly thundering around his skull and his cock twitching madly, rendering him quite incapable of concentrating on anything else.  George held him fast, begging prettily against him, Fuck me, Freddie.  C'mon.  Fuck me.  "I'm so sorry, but we went in here to see if there were some extra napkins, you see, and --"  When are you going to fuck me?  "--and we seemed to have mucked things up in here a bit.  Just tidying, Nettie!"

George was doing his best to hold back a laugh.  Fred's hands were simultaneously clawing at him like a wild animal in an attempt to undo his trousers and trying to push him away, the effect of which was rather entertaining.  When Fred succeeded in yanking George's pants down past his hips, George gave a small, satisfied purr and asked, Are you going to fuck me now?

Nettie's voice sounded like it was coming closer.  "Sirs?  Are sirs all right in there?  Sirs do not need to tidy, tidying is Nettie's work!"  She sounded vaguely appalled.

Sensing Fred struggling for words, George ground against him harder and begged.  Fuck me.  Oh, bloody fuck, Freddie, I'm so hard for you.  Fred bit at a patch of bare skin just inside George's shoulder, where his shirt had been pushed aside, to stifle a groan.  He had his fist wrapped around George's cock, and as he leaned in, he opened his hand and thrust his own up against it, reaching down with his other hand to hold them both, side-by-side. 

Sounding strained, Fred coughed and called to Nettie again.  "Oh, no, Nettie, we feel absolutely awful--" See?  So hard for you.  "--awful, yes.  And we don't want to make more work for you; it's nearly your bedtime, and --" Fuck me.  Are you going to fuck me hard?  I want it hard.  "-- and you've been such a dear to help us out, see, and ---" George started to rock his hips, sliding both his cock and Fred's through the tunnel of Fred's hands.  "--see, Nettie, if you could just... just bring our wands over here and slip them through the door..."  Fred's voice was breaking over every-other syllable, it seemed, much to George's delight.

"But... sir?  Nettie does not want to touch your wands, sir!  Nettie is not allowed!"

You better fuck me hard, making me wait.  You're a right filthy cock-tease, aren't you?  Fred felt like he was unraveling.  He unwrapped one hand from around their cocks and put it over George's mouth, hissing "Shut your trap or I'm spitting on it and taking you like a bloody barbaric Muggle!"  George giggled, but it opened up into a moan and he licked Fred's palm, tickling him and making him draw back.  Do it.  Fuck me so hard I can't stand up.  Fred moved his hand back to their cocks and started stroking, back and forth.

"Nettie," Fred yelled, a little coarser now, but still trying to maintain his friendly coercion, "You're allowed, love.  I'm---" Why aren't you fucking me yet?  "I'm giving you permission.  Please?  Be a dear, will you?  Just bring them right to the door.  We'll---" I want you inside me.  "We'll have this cleaned up in a snap so we can all get to bed.  Please, Nettie?"

"Sirs, Nettie is afraid..."

"Nettie!" Fred answered, growing impatient as George swirled his tongue into the tunnel of his ear and whispered I want to feel you come inside me.  "Really, now, it's an order!"

George stifled a laugh, pressing his face into Fred's sweat-soaked shoulder and inhaling the familiar smell of salt and sex.  He loved seeing Fred lose his characteristic cool charm; seeing him tottering on the edge. 

Nettie was silent for a moment before she replied, "Nettie does not take orders from sir!  Nettie takes orders from Dumbledore!"  There was a note of petulance in her voice.

At this, George almost burst into laughter outright and had to bite down viciously on Fred's collarbone.  He groaned against the back of his teeth, feeling Fred's hands start to move faster in frustration and feeling Fred's shoulders shrug against the sting.

"Of course, Nettie, of course."  Fred was fumbling to keep control, now.  George managed to regain his composure and restarted his game.  You better not come until your cock is inside me.  "I'm so sorry; I didn't mean that.  It's just --" I want you to push my face into this wall and fuck me.  "It's just that I simply refuse to leave our mess for you to clean, Nettie!  It's--" Did you hear me, Freddie? "It's not right, and I won't do it.  So please.  Just... bring our wands to the door, and.." Fred drew in a sharp breath as George reached down to add his hands to Fred's, covering Fred's fingers, identical in length and width and shape, with his own.  "and please let us clean up this mess.  Things off shelves, and all... you--" George was keening, low and plaintive now, flicking his tongue against the shell of Fred's ear.  "--you always do so much for us, and I don't mean to order you around.  I'm sorry!"

There was another pause as Nettie considered Fred's words.  Slippery, desperate sounds were filling the pantry as both Fred's and George's cocks were leaking pre-come across their frantic fingers and their mouths ground against one another, waiting for Nettie's reply.  "You are a bloody foul beast," Fred whispered hotly against George's skin.  "I am going to make you bloody scream, do you hear me?"

Nettie's answer came from almost right up against the pantry door.  George bit down hard on Fred's lip when he heard her start to speak, and he tasted the sharp, metallic taste of blood.  Fred didn't wince.  "All right, sirs.  Nettie will touch your wands.  But sirs must not tell!"  She sounded horrified.  Fred's lip quivered between George's teeth, threatening to open into an absurd laugh of his own.  

George let go so that Fred could answer.  He stilled his hips.  Fred squeezed his hand in protest.  "Oh, what a dear!  Thank you so much, Nettie, and of course I won't breathe a word!  Our little secret.  Just a little secret between good friends, is all!"  George's belly heaved in silent mirth.  "Now go be a love and grab both our wands and bring them just to the crack of the door.  I don't want you to see the mess we've made of your tidy pantry!"

As Nettie made her way to the counter to retrieve the forgotten wands, Fred moved his hands from their cocks and onto George's hips.  "Turn around, you," he whispered, manhandling George a bit as he turned him to face the wall.  He stepped into the crotch of George's trousers and pushed them down to his ankles.  "Flatten yourself.  Your arse is white enough to blind the poor thing," he snickered, tapping it with his palm as George cupped his erection and pushed into the wall.  Fred yanked his own trousers up, trapping his wet, throbbing cock and drawing in a sharp breath as he did up the zip.

By this time, Nettie was at the door, her high voice trembling with trepidation.  "Nettie has your wands, Sirs," she stage-whispered at the crack of the pantry.  "Oh, please hurry and get them, sir; Nettie does not want to touch!"

"Thank you, Nettie dear," Fred said, reaching for the handle and turning it slightly so that a tiny opening, just large enough for a wand, appeared.  "Slip them on through.  Don't look; I don't want you to see what we've done in here!"

A foot or so away, George muffled his laughter with his hand.

The tips of their wands poked through the crack, and Fred grabbed them in his fist.  Nettie promptly let go, as though they had stung her.  "Nettie, you're brilliant," he said, a smile coating his words.  "Now, you go on off to bed.  Go on.  If you go right now and get some rest, I'll come back and take some tea with you tomorrow, yeah?"

Nettie gasped a bit in excitement.  "Oh, Sirs, you are so kind to Nettie!  Would you like some more..."

"Yes, yes, of course," Fred replied hastily.  "Whatever you please.  Goodnight, Nettie!"

"Oh, goodnight, Sir!" Nettie squeaked and disappeared with a crack!

Fred was already undoing himself, and by the time he reached George and thrust one of the wands into his hand, his trousers were at his ankles and the head of his cock was brushing George's thigh.  Without exchanging words, George cast a silencing charm over the pantry as Fred cast the usual ones over his body and George's.  Both of their wands dropped to the floor, clattering in unison.

Fred leaned against George's back.  Their shirts stuck together with sweat.  His cock was tucked tight into the cleft in George's bottom.  He reached down and moved it aside, making room for his slippery fingers.  George arched his back to give Fred more room and whispered, playfully, Fuck me, Freddie.

As Fred worked his fingers inside, George panted and pushed back against him.  He could hear the grin in Fred's voice as he said, "You're lucky I love you so bloody much.  Else I'd fuck you raw, you smarmy git."

George made a fist around his throbbing cock and twisted it around the head, moaning and trying to get Fred's fingers deeper.  "Get to it," he said, his voice sounding thoroughly sweet and destroyed with need. 

"This isn't going to last long," Fred grunted, sliding his fingers out and replacing them with the head of his cock.

"Hard," was all George said, bracing his hands against the wall, already clawing at it.

Fred leaned forward and pressed a kiss into the base of George's sweating, freckled neck, a silent permission and apology for the initial sting, and then slipped just the head of his pounding cock inside his brother's body, trying desperately to go slow and give him time to breathe.  George was having none of it.  With his free hand, he reached back and grabbed whatever part of Fred he could reach (the bottom of his left buttock) and pulled, throwing himself backward until Fred's hips slammed against him with a sharp smack!

Fred grunted, his mouth flying open, and George's "Oh!" sounded startled and ecstatic and wounded, all at once, as Fred's hard fingertips dug possessively at George's hips and waist, and, after a moment of stillness, he began to move.  

Fred was right.  It didn't take long.  Three fierce thrusts, and they had adjusted themselves so that Fred's cock was bumping, rough and demanding, against George's sweet spot, and George was clamping down as hard as he could, grinding back against Fred's body every time he came forward, and Fred's mouth dropped open and nothing but hot, gutteral vowels spilled out of it. 

"Harder," George gasped out, pressing his head into the wall and pumping his cock with his fist, his eyes rolling back and his muscles feeling like stretched elastic as Fred drummed a frantic rhythm, driving him towards his end.  Sucking in a sharp breath, Fred pounded harder -- once, twice -- and then George felt himself go rigid and let go in what felt like an endless, ferocious orgasm that tore through him like a train; his hands, his belly, the wall -- and then Fred's hand, reaching around, his fingers sliding through George's come, like icing. 

Fred strained against George's muscles as they clamped down around him, and he jerked his hand back and brought it to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean.  George tilted his head back and saw what Fred was doing and was only able to whisper, "Oh, Gods, Freddie," and then he felt his brother come, hard and loud, inside of him.

Fred grit his teeth and spasmed, clutching at George's body, which was melting, warm and glowing as a candle, against him.  He leaned forward and pushed his face against George's shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt and pulling it aside so he could feel his skin.  He covered George's freckles in sloppy kisses, nuzzling into every bit of bareness he could find, his hands wandering to George's trembling thighs and brushing the damp trail of hair along his belly.  George sighed happily, reaching back with one hand to pet Fred and bracing them both against the wall with his other forearm.

"Love you, too," George whispered, lolling his head back and searching lazily for Fred's mouth, which finally found him.

"You taste good," Fred murmured against George's slack lips. 

"Better than chocolate icing, do you think?" George asked, his voice thick and used-up.

"Better than bloody icing," Fred smiled, shaking his head so their noses brushed.  "And treacle tart.  And trifle.  And ice cream.  And..."

"I've got it," George whispered.  "Are you really coming back here tomorrow for tea?"  He was grinning.

"A promise is a promise," Fred laughed into George's ear.  "Are you up for seconds?"

"Maybe tomorrow.  Hand me my bloody wand, would you?  We had better really tidy this, hadn't we?"