Polished

"Our bathroom's been girlified!"

Fred came crashing into his and George's room, almost dropping the door off its hinges. George was sitting peacefully on his bed.

"Mm-hm," George nodded absent-mindedly without looking up.

"Seriously, the place is all pink and fluffy and smelly! Every single horizontal surface is full of bottles and jars and whatnot, and I have no idea what most of it even is!" Fred pranced around the room, flailing his arms about in exasperation and still not noticing that George wasn't paying even the slightest bit of attention to him.

"And to top it all, it's mostly Muggle stuff of Hermione's which really freaks me out. George... What are you doing?"

"Nail polish."

"Say what?"

"Nail polish. I went through their stuff earlier, just out of interest. I found this assortment set of pinks, reds, greens, blues and whatnot and got curious."

"So you chose black?"

"Thought it would be manlier," he grinned.

"Manlier? Yeah, I'll just swing by the bathroom to find you manly lipstick and eyeliner, shall I?"

"Don't tempt me," George grinned. "I was actually eyeing them. But I didn't have the faintest idea how to put them on properly, and this didn't go too well either," he said, holding his hands up for inspection. "I think it's an acquired skill."

"Yeah, they look kinda messy and clumpy." Fred gave a closer look at his brother's hands as he was finally calming down. At closer inspection the polish was starting to look kind of... nice, despite it really being a bit of a mess. It did suit George's long slender fingers rather well...

George noticed his Fred's eyes glazing and gave him his best wicked grin. "Girly, huh? Guess I should go and take this off then…" He made a try to rise up, but was stopped by a ballistic twin hitting him at breakneck speed and knocking him over on the bed, and almost off it on the other side. When he got some air back into his lungs, he burst out laughing. "Merlin, you're so easy, Freddie dear," he giggled.

Fred growled and nipped at George's neck. "If it bothers you, stop being so goddamn sexy, you bitch..."

"Couldn't if I wanted to. It's in the genes," he smiled between appreciative little noises at every little bite. He wrapped his calves around Fred's, pulling him closer in a way that made it very clear that there were bits of him enjoying the attention.

"If that was a compliment, it was the sneakiest one in quite a while," Fred breathed into his brother's neck. "C'mon, get those pretty hands of yours here so I can see them." He grabbed George's hands, one by one, pulling them above his ginger head and pinned the wrists against the pillows with one hand. George's fingers were curled lightly against his upturned palms, showing off his black nails. Fred felt no resistance under his own hand, George was completely submissive. His already pretty hard cock jerked at that thought, not much but enough for George to notice. He gave the brother above him his best bedroom eyes and... it wasn't a smile, wasn't a smirk, just a special little twitch of lips he only ever gave to one person.

"You like?"

"Don't I always? But I have to admit, you look so incredibly gorgeous right now. I could just eat you up..." He resumed his ministrations to George's slender neck, enjoying the sounds it provoked from him and being very thankful that the room was permanently Imperturbed...

George arched his back and groaned as Fred found a particularly sensitive spot right where his right shoulder joined neck. Fred let go of George's hands, noting that he kept them crossed above his head anyway, and slid his along his twin's side, slightly lingering when passing the tight ass pressed against the mattress and grabbing his thigh just above the knee. He nudged George's feet more apart, pulling his legs up to wrap around his waist. Or tried to, anyway.

"Oof! Don't, they'll rip!" George laughed and grabbed Fred's shoulders.

"Serves you right for wearing pants so tight. Where did you get these, anyway? I don't remember owning a pair."

"Bill's closet. See, not all we have is the same."

"Just most." Fred ground his hips distinctively against the hardness that was matched inside George's pretty skin-tight brown pants. "So, you've been raiding other people's stuff the entire day?"

"Yeah. This shirt is yours."

"I was wondering where it was just this morning! Bloody thief..." Fred growled again, uncharacteristically so since George was usually the more beastly of the two, and pulled George's legs as far up as the pretty unyielding fabric allowed, not minding how badly they clung to his brother's thighs. All the Beater work had made George rather muscular, and Fred couldn't help but wondering if his twin had had to grease himself into their slim older brother's pants. He worked the zipper open with some difficulty and was met with a relieved sigh when he finally got it.

"Thanks, bro. Little George appreciates."

"Not so little if I remember correctly..."

"Talk about sneaky compliments." George knew very well that they were identical even down there, almost to the last curve. Only a practiced eye could spot the few differences. Fred eyed the promising bulge, now covered only in worn-out boxers (he wondered whose) and yanked the pants off in one smooth motion. Or so he wished. He managed to yank them a whole inch and a half before they got stuck. Brow furrowed, he tried again but not to much more avail. After a fifth tug George couldn't help himself anymore and subsided to the giggle fit he'd been holding.

"Ooh, baby, you make me so hot..." he panted between bursts of laughter.

"Oh shut up, you fiend! You're the one who got himself in a pair of pants you have to be shoehorned out of in the first place. A little help?"

"Oh all right. But it's so fun to watch you struggle," George said rather breathlessly and slid his hands along his thighs and under the waistband. "I'll push, you pull." Fred backed off his twin to the foot of the bed and got a firm hold of the pant legs.

"On three. One, two, three!" George was sure the pants hadn't been quite that tight this morning, as he had to push pretty hard. Apparently Fred had a lot more appreciation of how snug they really were, since he put quite a bit of muscle behind his pull, too much in fact. He fell off the bed shoulders first, with a chandelier-shattering thud.

The sight of just Fred's feet, sticking up in the air, got George into total hysterics. He laughed so hard he thought he would fall off the bed too. He was sure that a serious ass-kicking would ensue since Fred usually didn't respond well to being laughed at, but he couldn't help it. To his immense relief, a similar fit of laughter erupted from the floor. The complete absurdity of the situation did nothing to help as their laughter, if anything, grew louder. George thought how utterly ridiculous they must look, one half-naked twin dying of laughter on the bed, the other laying feet up on the floor doing the same...

As soon as he caught some breath, he crawled to the foot of the bed and between Fred's legs and looked down to his brother, face red, eyes glistening and a huge grin on his face.

"So that's why they say you're the funny one."

"Do they?"

"No, actually. Like anyone can tell us apart." He reached his hand behind Fred and pulled him closer for a kiss, just as a small reminder of what they were doing in the first place. All the horseplay had gotten him pretty horny.

Fred responded eagerly, despite that in his current position he was folded like a pocket knife. His erection came rushing back, and he also remembered that technically he should be mad at his brother for laughing at him... Fred clambered awkwardly up as his position wasn't too dignified to begin with, and pawed his way up to the bed like a cat, making George back up into his original position. He pulled George's knees apart and felt his brother's legs wrap around him as he slid between them.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard Georgie boy," he whispered in his ear and felt, rather than heard, George gasp in response. "I'm going to pound you so hard you'll forget your name..."

"Oh yeah?" George lifted his hands up above his head, once again crossing his wrists so that Fred could see his black fingernails. It never ceased to amaze Fred, how he could find someone so like himself so breathtakingly beautiful.

He pulled George's boxers off and tossed them aside carelessly while at the same time doing his best to remove his own pants. Which very fortunately actually were his own and were therefore easily discarded. He took the lubricant potion bottle from the nightstand drawer, greased his erection and positioned himself on his twin's opening. Fred felt George relax underneath him, making his body available for Fred alone. He always could make Fred feel so wanted and welcome.

And how he loved George submissive like this. He pushed slowly in, taking his sweet time to enter as gently as he could. Even more so, as he knew George was quite the slut who could have taken it faster too. George closed his eyes, screwed them tight in almost-pain, relaxed and... scrunched his eyes shut again, but this time with pure pleasure.

"Good?" Fred panted.

"Oh, so good," he moaned back and opened his eyes just a crack to look at the slightly sweaty face above him. "Move? Please?"

Fred complied happily, with a couple of softer thrusts before making good of his earlier promise. He pounded into his twin hard enough to make the bed inch closer and closer to the back wall of their room, before finally crashing into it pretty loudly. Charms aside, Fred was absolutely certain someone had heard it. George was making his own bit of noise, not quite shouting but doing just about everything else. He was gripping Fred's thrusting hips with his legs and arching his back like a bow, but his hands never let go of their position. Fred had to bite his lip not to come from just that sight.

"You're mine," he growled. "All mine. Aren't you, babe?" He punctuated every word with a thrust, a difficult thing to do when you're trying to keep yourself from coming way too soon.

"Yeah, Freddie," came the gasped reply. "All yours, always."

"Touch yourself. Let me see those pretty hands of yours at work."

As George gripped his own erection, his muscles clenched around Fred in a way that almost made him scream.

"Oh my... Georgie, don't, I'm gonna..." He gripped George's chest through his shirt and groaned. "Ghah, Georgie, don't you dare... don't... wanna... come... just... now..."

Not caring about possible ramifications, George rotated his hips in a way he knew would drive Fred over the edge. And sure enough, Fred didn't even get to say what he thought of such dirty tricks before he came loud and hard inside George.

Fred let his orgasm wash over him as he watched George still pump at his own cock. He retreated from his brother with a shudder and lowered himself gently between George's legs, drowsily running his hand along George's inner thigh. With his own experienced touch, he too reached his climax in no time. Fred thought to swallow his come, but decided against it, just sitting back and enjoying the sight of several spurts of white semen landing on his shiny brown shirt.

"Damn it," George groaned as he recovered from his orgasm. "You made me do a horrible mess all over myself."
That's what you get from stealing other people's clothes," Fred smirked. "Besides, I can make you do anything to it as it's my shirt."

"Well, this one's definitely off to the laundry. Where's my wand?"

"No idea. Let me." Fred grabbed his wand from the nightstand and pointed it casually at George's chest. "Scourgify. There you go, one embarrassing question less from Mum."

"Thanks." He took the shirt off, balled it and threw it into the laundry basket with a Quidditch player's precision. "Too bad, though. I kind of got used to wearing your clothes," he smiled at Fred.

"Tough luck, thief," Fred smiled back. "At least my shirt stayed clean." For no apparent reason, he took it off anyway and got up. "Bathroom," he jerked his head at the door.

Fred had left the door ajar, so George actually heard Molly calling them to dinner as he had fished his boxers from the ceiling lamp and was sliding himself back into Bill's pants.

"Coming, Mum!" With a sly grin, he took Fred's shirt from his bed and tossed it on. Passing through the hallway, he called Fred to dinner too, in case he hadn't heard.

When Fred finally came to the table, George could have sworn he was wearing the same shiny brown shirt he himself had on earlier, only perfectly clean.