Harry Potter, I Phelta Thi

Title: I Phelta Thi
Rating/Warnings: R for a twincestuous exchange.
Summary: Fred and George are trapped in the house and desperate for an outlet.
A/N: Written as a thank you to Gina for running the Merry_Smutmas exchange.

I Phelta Thi

“Hey, Percy!”

Percy reluctantly tore his gaze away from his book to peer down his nose at the twins that were grinning innocently before him.

“George, Fred,” he nodded warily. “Do you want something?”

“Only to congratulate you, dear brother!” George (or at least the one wearing the ‘G’ jumper) chirped.

“We heard a rumor,” Fred joined in, “that you were spotted studying at a back library table with Cynthia Cleves.”

“She needed help in Arithmancy,” Percy narrowed his eyes.

“At the VERY back table,” George grinned.

“Now hold on,” Percy snapped. “If you two are here to insinuate…”

“Oh no!” Fred interrupted. “We’re here to invite you to join our honors society.”

“Oh really,” Percy replied in tones of deep sarcasm.

“Yes,” George nodded imperiously. “Late bloomer though you are, there comes a time in every young Gryffindor’s life when he matures enough to be invited into our prestigious society.”

“What’s the name of this society then?” Percy asked grudgingly.

“I Phelta Thi!” Fred announced solemnly.

Fred and George were already at the door when Percy hurled his shoe at them, slamming the door behind them and laughing breathless as the shoe thumped the door harmlessly.

Fred was leaning bodily against the door, clutching his sides as he gasped for air, face beet red. George stopped laughing suddenly and lunged towards his twin, swallowing Fred’s gasp in a furious tangle of lips and noses.

“It’s hot when you laugh like that,” George breathed. Fred made a soft noise and pushed him away.

“Not here in the hall, moron,” Fred hissed, glancing around to make sure they were alone.

“It’s been days,” George whined, still close enough that their lips were brushing with every syllable.

Fred made a self-righteous noise of irritation, but George knew he was just as frustrated. The winding corridors of Hogwarts were easy to disappear into, but the Burrow during summer holidays was another matter entirely. To make matters worse, it had been raining more or less constantly for the last week, not even giving Fred and George a chance to sneak off outside without being noticed.

“Our room, if we’re quick about it,” Fred announced suddenly, slipping away from the door and tugging George after him by the hand.

No one was about on the third floor landing as they slipped into their room, but both knew that was a guarantee of nothing in their house. Fred hesitated at the door; nothing brought their mother down upon them faster than their bedroom door being closed, and she had Charmed it against locking years ago.

George reached over and pushed the door a little more than two-thirds shut, closed enough that no one could really see what was happening in the room if they were just walking by, and open enough that it looked like the last person to leave the room simply hadn’t latched it properly. He tugged Fred towards the bed by his belt loops, letting his thumb graze lower.

“Fast, remember,” Fred warned, sucking in a breath. He pushed George down to sit on the edge of his bed. “Quiet too.”

“I can promise one of those,” George replied, arching an eyebrow as Fred pushed his knees apart and dropped to kneel between them. “Serve Mum right to find us like this. If it wasn’t for her and her bloody dividing embryo cells, we’d be wanking off right now instead of breaking laws.”

“Don’t even say that,” Fred made a face at the mention of their mother. He undid George’s trousers and gave a light sigh as his cock sprang free, making George shudder at the hot breath. “This is my fault.”

It was part of the ritual, the formal acknowledgement that Fred had been the one to kiss George first. George wasn’t sure how much that mattered in the long run, since he was a more-than-willing participant, and he had actually spent weeks doing subtle things to drive Fred over the edge so that he wouldn’t have to make the first move. If the ‘But he started it!’ argument didn’t impress their mother, George doubted it would achieve any better results with whatever higher power they met in the afterlife. However, it was clearly important to his twin that the announcement be made every time, so he never questioned it.

“Yes,” George sighed, although it was unclear whether it was to Fred’s statement of guilt or to the lips sliding over George’s head. Fred murmured something else around George’s cock, and George bit his lip to keep from calling out.

Fred was nothing if not efficient with his mouth, and George would not have been long in coming even if he hadn’t already been hard to start with. Fred dug his fingers into George’s hips to keep them still while he sucked George roughly, running the flat of his tongue across the sensitive underside of George’s shaft.

Unable to arch, George flopped down onto his back and threw an arm over his face to cover the sounds he couldn’t stop from tearing out of his throat. He bit the sleeve of his jumper when he came suddenly, and dimly felt Fred’s hum of pleasure prolonging the heat washing through him.

He came back to himself with a start when cold air replaced Fred’s mouth around his softening cock, and he sat up to find Fred, leaning out the doorway, peering down the hall.

“Still no one,” he reported, trousers undone before he reached the bed, and George was pulling him down beside him before he could say anything else.

George rolled over half onto Fred, hooking a knee over Fred’s thigh and kissing him hard on the mouth while he reached down to push up Fred’s jumper and run his fingers over the pale skin just above his bobbing arousal.

“Quit fooling around,” Fred hissed even as he pushed up into George’s touch.

“It’s such a turn-on when you struggle,” George murmured, sliding his lips over Fred’s jaw. “So if you’re trying to end this fast, you’re going about it the wrong way.” He sucked on Fred’s neck gently.

“Don’t you dare leave a mark!” Fred’s eyes went wide with alarm and he pushed George away forcibly. “Do you want to get caught?!”

“Yes, Fred, that’s exactly what I want!” George snapped, sitting up on his knees suddenly, but with his hand still resting warmly on Fred’s stomach. “Do let’s get caught, then our family will send us off to separate schools and hate us forever! Sounds like a brilliant time!”

“Shh, don’t,” Fred pulled George back down by the arm to lay against his chest. “Tomorrow I swear we’ll go out somewhere, I don’t care if it’s raining or hailing or snowing toads, we’ll sneak off somewhere and just lay for awhile, all right? But we can’t right now.”

“I know,” George ground his teeth. He slid down Fred’s body suddenly so he wouldn’t have to see the mirrored frustration and tension in his brother’s face. He slid his mouth over Fred without preamble, hoping to drive the ache out of at least one of their minds for a little while.

He felt Fred’s hands tangle in his hair and sucked more fiercely, as if the wiry boy underneath him and the salty skin between his lips was all that mattered. George lifted his gaze slightly and focused on the swirl of freckles on the pale abdomen his hands were splayed across, the only freckles that didn’t move when Fred and George charmed the rest to shift every morning so that nobody at school could ever really tell them apart. When Fred flooded his mouth a minute later, George squeezed his eyes shut to see the pattern of dots echoed on the backs of his eyelids, a constellation that no one else had ever seen but him.

Fred always took longer to come down, so George redid the flies of his trousers for him in case anyone should catch them right at the end. He wanted very badly to curl his body against his twin’s and fall asleep in a cuddly heap like they used to be allowed to, wanted it so badly that his hands curled into fists as he forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed instead.

Fred slid his hands over George’s for a moment and kissed him on the cheek lightly before standing up and straitening himself as best he could.

“Tomorrow,” he promised, smoothing down George’s hair where he’d mussed it up. George swallowed his growl and flashed a mischievous smile instead.

“Let’s go blow something up until then,” he grinned, something in his chest easing at Fred’s identical answering leer.

They tore out of the room, with no evidence left behind but the rumpled bedclothes, a sight far less suspicious than a made bed.

After a moment, a plump rat crept out from underneath the bed, looking rather shaken. It groomed its whiskers nervously for a moment as if cleansing itself of something, then gave its two-fingered paw a final lick before scampering out into the hall.