Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/189941.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Fred_Weasley/George_Weasley
  Character:
      Fred_Weasley, George_Weasley, Colin_Creevey
  Additional Tags:
      Twincest, Voyeurism
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-05-05 Words: 5891
****** After Image ******
by MaxWrite
Summary
     Fred and George sneak out of bed one night for some “private time”.
     Little do they know, their private time won’t be quite so private.
“Ooph!” George grunted as something short collided with his stomach. He looked
down just in time to see Colin Creevey fall backwards onto his backside,
clutching his camera to his chest.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” asked George, helping Colin up and massaging his own
stomach where the camera lens had been driven into it.
“Yessir. Sorry, sir,” said Colin breathlessly. “I was just on my way back to my
room.”
“Well, hurry along, then. How can we older kids relax and let the expletives
fly with you runts running about, eh?”
“Sorry, sir. Won’t happen again.”
“Right then. Well, off you go.” George slipped past him and headed for his
dormitory. When he didn’t hear the sound of little retreating footsteps, he
stopped and glanced back. Colin was watching him, looking timid.
“What?” he asked.
“Well, sir -”
“Colin, call me George, will you?”
“Of course … George,” Colin replied brightly, nearly choking on the ‘George’ as
he said it, as though he couldn’t believe he was allowed to address George by
his first name. “I just wanted to say how neat I think you and your twin are,
you were really brave trying to put your names in the Goblet, both of you and
Mr. Jordan, and I tried one of your Fainting Fancies once, not to skive off
class, ‘cause I could never do that, but just to try it, you know, and -”
“Breathe, Colin.”
Colin paused and took a deep breath. “- and it worked perfectly, and I knew it
would, ‘cause you and Fred are brilliant, really, and when I finally came to, I
-”
“Th-thanks, Colin,” said George, holding up his hands to signal Colin to stop
nattering. “That’s very nice of you to say.”
Colin gave him a toothy grin. “Um, sir – er, George? May I …?” And he held up
his camera.
“Oh, er, don’t you want one with both Fred and me?”
“I already have one of both of you! And one of Fred alone!”
“You do?”
“Sure! But … I may have taken those without permission.”
George nodded, brows knitting together. Colin must have been sneaking about
taking pictures, because he certainly didn’t remember having his and Fred’s
picture taken by the boy.
“Uh, okay,” said George. “Go on, then, get it over with.” And he clasped his
hands behind his back and gave Colin a winning smile, holding his chin a bit
higher than normal.
“Actually, I prefer it when my subjects don’t pose. More natural, you know?”
“Oh.” George’s shoulders slumped. “Erm … well, what shall I do?”
“What d’you mean?” asked Colin innocently.
“Well, it’s a little odd being told to ‘pose naturally’, don’t you think? It’s
kind of an oxymor - Gah!”
Colin snapped his shot as George was running his fingers through his longish
auburn hair.
“Perfect! Thanks, George!”
“Right,” muttered George, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t mention it.” He finally
heard the little retreating footsteps, and when he removed the heels of his
hands from his eye sockets, Colin was gone, replaced by dancing purple dots of
after image from the boy’s flash bulb. George turned and continued toward his
dormitory, grumbling to himself as he entered.
“What’s wrong with you?” asked Fred, the only person in the dorm who was still
awake.
“That Creevey kid’s mental. Is everyone really asleep?”
“Yeah. Get in.”
George kicked off his slippers and crawled into bed next to Fred. He drew the
hangings closed, then settled, cross-legged, beside his twin.
“What’re you doing?” he asked.
“Charms homework.”
George raised his brows at him.
“What? I’m not allowed to be academic? Besides, this stuff could come in handy
later for product development. The One-Way Sound Proofing Shield still needs
work, remember?”
“I know, I haven’t forgotten.”
“So, what’s this about Creevey now?”
“Oh, I bumped into him in the hall and he started gushing and being generally
disgusting.”
“About Harry?”
“No. About us.”
Now, it was Fred’s turn to raise his brows. “Us?” he asked, turning the lit tip
of his wand on George.
“Yes, dammit, Fred, watch where you point that bloody thing! I’ve got quite
enough little dots on my retinas from Creevey’s camera, thanks.”
Fred averted his wand tip, now frowning. “He took your picture?”
“Yes.”
“Without me?”
“Said he’s already got one of the two of us and one of you alone.”
“Since when?”
“Dunno.”
“Weird kid.”
“Humph.”
“I thought he had a permanent hard-on for Harry.”
“Me, too. Guess he’s moved on. Bah! Kids today, no focus.”
George laid his head on Fred’s shoulder and watched him do Charms homework for
a while.
“You tired?” asked Fred.
“Not really. Bored as hell, though.”
“Yeah, me too … Ah, bollocks to this. I’ll just copy off Angelina.” Fred closed
up his books and pushed them off his lap. He looked down at the top of George’s
head. “So, what should we do? It’s late at night, everyone’s asleep. The school
is ours.”
George shrugged. “I’m not really up for mayhem tonight.”
“No? That’s a first.”
George snuggled closer. “It’s rather nice just sitting here with you,
actually.”
Fred smiled at that and placed an arm around George’s shoulders. “Yeah, it is.”
George let his hand creep up onto Fred’s chest, let his fingers trace a line
lightly across Fred’s collar bone, from one shoulder all the way over to the
other. Fred reached up to take that hand in his while George almost
automatically began nipping at Fred’s neck. Fred let his head fall back and
away from George, affording his twin more room to kiss and nuzzle, tightening
his grip on George’s body, holding him close. He was about ready to slide down
into a horizontal position and let his twin have at his body. Every instinct he
had was screaming ‘Yes!’, but for one.
He gently pulled away. “We can’t do this here,” he whispered.
George looked up at him, eyes searching Fred’s face. “Do what?” he challenged.
And Fred knew exactly what he meant, why George was asking that. They’d never
acknowledged this thing between them. It would happen from time to time, but
they never talked about it, pretended it didn’t exist in daylight. But it was
always there, always hovering between them like the world’s biggest, most
obvious elephant in the room.
“We can’t do what, Fred?” George repeated when Fred didn’t answer.
“You know what.”
“We should talk about this.”
Fred rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away from George’s body.
“I’m serious, how many years has this been going on? Not talking about it can’t
be healthy.”
“Since when are you so concerned about our mental health?”
George sat up and stared down at his lap. “We’re nearly adults, Fred. What, are
we gonna go through our entire lives with this hanging between us, unaddressed,
unnamed, un-”
“Would you two please get a bloody room?” came a muffled voice from across the
darkened dormitory. The twins didn’t have to pull back their hangings to know
it was Lee Jordan, clearly annoyed at their constant chatter.
“D’you think he heard what we were saying?” whispered George.
“Nah, he’s too far away. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
They took their wands, donned their slippers and slipped quietly out of the
room, down the corridor to the staircase and down into the empty common room.
All around them, torches began to burn more brightly upon their arrival,
lighting the room sufficiently for them. Fred went straight for the couch
before the fire. George grabbed his arm.
“No,” he hissed. “Behind the portrait. It’s more private.”
Fred allowed George to lead him to the back of the room, to a wall with a stone
mantle attached to it. The mantle was thicker and wider than average, and the
twins suspected it had been constructed that way for express purpose of
assisting students up into the hidden space behind the portrait. Above the
mantle hung a large portrait of a stuffy, self-important-looking wizard whose
name they’d never learned.
George stepped up onto a chair to the right of the mantle. He extinguished the
torch that burned above his head, took hold of the torch holder in which it
sat, and pulled himself up onto the mantle. Clinging to the wall as best he
could, he gave the portrait’s gaudy golden frame a tap with his wand. It swung
open, revealing a small space within that was dark, dank, rectangular, made
entirely of stone and about the size of a small walk-in closet.
“Lumos!” he whispered. His wand tip lit the small space and he peering around
at it distastefully. “Pillows and blankets, Fred. The ones we left here before
got cleaned out.”
“Humph. Wonder who else knows about this place.”
“Dunno. But whoever it is, I doubt they’ll come back to it tonight.”
George crawled inside, then turned to peer out at his twin, who, laden with
little square tasselled pillows and elaborately knit throws taken from the
various couches and chairs round the room, was waddling toward the mantle.
George pointed his wand at the pile coming toward him and whispered, “Accio …
blankety things.” Each and every throw Fred was carrying flew up out of his
hands, straight through the portrait hole, nearly knocking George over. When
George peered out again, Fred was glaring up at him, his hands on his narrow
hips, puffy, square pillows scattered all around him on the floor.
“Oops,” snickered George. “Accio pillows!” The pillows also obeyed his command,
and Fred was free to make the same perilous journey up into the portrait hole.
He shut the portrait door behind him and proceeded to help his twin arrange the
throws and pillows into a cosy, plush little nest. He sat in it next to George
and propped his lit wand up against a pillow.
“So,” said Fred. “I s’pose you wanna talk now, eh?”
“Don’t you think we should?” asked George, leaning closer and nuzzling Fred’s
cheek. “Don’t you think it’s about time?”
“I dunno. If it ain’t broke …”
“And how d’you know nothing’s broken?”
Fred pulled away and looked at him. “D’you think we have any problems?”
“No, not really. I just don’t like that we can’t talk about this. We can talk
about everything else.”
“Yeah.” Fred turned his body slightly so he was angled more toward George. He
reached up and touched George’s face, caressing his cheek. “But you know, too
much talking, it can ruin things sometimes.”
George wanted to protest, to say more. But Fred was so close, and his eyes were
already so seductive, and the heat radiating off of Fred’s body was so inviting
in that dank little space, and Fred’s scent was washing over George, and Fred’s
lips were nipping at George’s now, and Fred’s hot breath was dancing along
George’s neck, and Fred’s tongue was sliding in and sweeping around inside
George’s mouth.
And George couldn’t say no. He let himself be laid on his back, arched and
squirmed at the exploring touch of his twin’s hand, fingertips grazing over top
of and tweaking his nipples, venturing down further to find the hardness inside
his pyjamas.
Fred sat up and repositioned himself in between George’s legs. He pulled down
on George’s waistband and promptly began caressing George’s pulsing length, up
and down along the underside. He cupped his brother’s balls, petted and
squeezed them lightly while stroking the inside of one of George’s thighs with
his other hand.
“Raise your shirt,” Fred requested. George obliged, pulling the bottom of his
tank top all the way up to his armpits, revealing his pert, pink little
nipples. Fred sat on his knees and lowered his own flannel pants, watching his
brother’s eyes go straight to his erection as he gripped and slowly stroked
himself. He leaned forward, over his brother, took one of George’s hard nipples
in his mouth and lovingly sucked it while the head of his prick poked teasingly
at George’s balls. George raked his fingers into Fred’s tousled hair, grabbing
hold of it and emitting plaintive groans of frustration.
“Ungh … fuck, Fred …”
Fred looked up at him as George pushed his lower half up against Fred’s,
begging for Fred’s touch. Fred gave him a sly smile as he laved George’s rosy
nipple with his tongue.
“What is it, Georgie?” he asked. “Are we a little horny tonight?”
“You cheeky bastard,” George chuckled, still grinding up against Fred, his hips
hovering a few inches off the floor.
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“Oh, for the love of … Come here!” George dropped his bottom back down onto the
blanket, grabbed hold of Fred’s hand and applied it to his hard-on. With his
free hand, he pulled Fred’s head down until Fred’s ear was next to his mouth,
and he whispered, “Fuck me, Fred,” with every ounce of heat and need he felt at
that moment.
Fred moved down suddenly, grabbing onto George’s pants and yanking them down.
George lay before him, naked but for the tank top still up around his upper
chest. Fred knelt between George’s legs again, eyeing his brother hungrily and
playing with himself. George, who loved the way Fred was staring at him, spread
his sinewy legs and arched his back, touching himself as well, enticing his
twin.
Fred emitted a low growl and lunged at George, took hold of George’s legs and
pushed them roughly upward, placing George’s knees somewhere near his ears,
opening him up, spreading him wide.
“This what you want, Georgie?” whispered Fred, rubbing the head of his prick
against his twin’s hole. He felt the tight little ring convulse at his touch,
as though trying to open up and suck him in. He rubbed at it more, smearing pre
cum all over it. George’s eyes glazed over.
“Huh, baby?” Fred added. “Is that what you need?”
George inhaled slowly through his clenched teeth. “Now,” he demanded quietly.
“Don’t tease me.”
“But it’s so much fun,” smirked Fred.
George grabbed him and kissed him savagely, wrapping his legs around Fred’s
middle, holding Fred down against himself. And Fred let him have his way, let
him grab and pull at his t-shirt so hard, he heard a little rip from somewhere
around the collar. He obeyed without snarky commentary when George ordered him
to lift up a bit so George could point his wand at the appropriate spot to
lubricate himself. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment when George
tossed the wand away, sending it clattering against the part of the floor not
covered by blanket. George’s slightly shaking hands caressed Fred’s hips as
Fred got into position before his eager twin. He rubbed at George’s opening
again with his prick. It was now slippery and ready to be breached.
“Now, Freddy,” George begged.
Fred couldn’t say no to that. He pushed against the little hole, ready to feel
the familiar resistance, giving way to the tight, hot, almost suction-like
acceptance of George’s body, when something caught his ear. He stopped dead,
swivelled his head around to look at the solid wall.
“Did you hear that?” he asked.
“Yeah, I did.” George sat up on his elbows, legs still suspended in the air.
“D’you think someone knows we’re here?”
“Dunno. Maybe.”
“But doesn’t that mean someone knows … about us?”
Fred looked back down at George. George was gazing worriedly up at him, nearly
all signs of arousal gone from his face. But his cock was still rock hard and
leaking, and his arsehole was pulsing against Fred’s prick, and that wide-eyed,
innocent, frightened little boy look on his face was, oddly, about as much of a
turn-on as George’s ravenously hungry clawing and snarling had been.
Fred continued to push into George’s body.
“Wait, wait, what’re you doing? What if someone’s watching?”
“Then they’ve already seen just about everything, haven’t they? They now know
what we do together. Not much we can do about it now, eh?”
“We could stop and go kick the little wanker’s arse!”
“Doubt that’d do any good,” Fred groaned as George’s body began to accept him.
“Oh, shite, Freddy, this is so not the time - ungh!”
Fred slid easily into him, bracing himself on his hands as he hovered above
George.
“Bloody fucking hell, you’re always so tight,” said Fred.
“Someone’s watching,” George moaned breathlessly. “We – oh, fuck – we have to
stop.”
“Does that scare you, Georgie? That someone might be watching?”
“Uh-huh,” grunted George, rapidly forgetting he was supposed to be upset about
something as Fred began his vigorous fucking.
“Someone might be seeing what I’m doing to you right now,” Fred rumbled in his
ear. “How does that make you feel? Eh, Georgie? Pull those legs back as far as
they’ll go, come on.”
George obeyed, taking hold of his calves and pulling them back further, as
though trying to offer even more of himself to his twin. He groaned loudly as
Fred began to graze his prostate.
“Now, answer my question,” Fred demanded. “Someone’s watching us, baby, how do
you feel?”
“I feel dirty,” George growled. “So fucking dirty.”
Fred grinned at that, put his mouth to George’s ear and whispered, “That’s what
I thought.” He sat up a bit then, took George’s calves from him and pushed them
back even further, curling George up even more, rendering him utterly helpless.
Fred stopped moving, sat up tall on his knees, his dick still buried inside his
brother. Holding George’s legs as far away from himself and each other as
possible, he gazed down at his twin, who stared back, breathing hard, wondering
what Fred was up to.
“They can see you, you know,” said Fred. “Whoever they are. They’re watching
you right now. Touch yourself for them.”
George went ahead and licked his hand, applied it to his cock and began
stroking. He emitted a tiny whimper.
“They can see you lying here, spread open, playing with yourself and taking it
up the arse. They can see everything.”
George reached up with his other hand and began to pinch and tug at one of his
nipples. His eyes began to glaze again and he wiggled his toes in helpless
ecstasy.
Realising just how pliable and vulnerable and willing his brother was at that
moment, Fred let go of both George’s legs and withdrew. He reached for his
wand, and pointed it at his brother. George, trusting Fred innately, didn’t
even flinch, knowing whatever Fred had in mind would be pleasurable to him.
“Incarcerous!” Fred said, and long, thing, silvery ropes shot out of his wand
tip, wrapping themselves around George’s ankles while their opposite ends
wrapped around the empty torch holders on the wall above and on either side of
George. With enough give to allow George’s knees to bend, but not enough to
allow him to bring his legs forward at all, George looked quite inviting lying
there that way. He was completely exposed to his brother and to whoever might
be watching, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite as wonderfully filthy
as he did just then.
Fred licked his lips and reinserted himself, sliding in slowly at first, then
stopping about halfway, pulling back and slamming home. George cried out in
surprise and ecstasy. Fred sat up straight and tall at first, thrusting at a
moderate pace, knowing his gentleness was driving George mad. Then he leaned
all the way forward, bracing himself on his elbows this time, and commenced
with a rough assault. He took hold of George’s wrists and pinned them to the
pillow above his head.
“Did you wanna have that little chat now?” asked Fred. “Go on, baby, what’d you
wanna tell me?”
George glared lustily up at him, panting through his teeth. “Harder,” he
ordered.
“You sure? The whole castle will hear you if I do it harder.”
“Harder!”
Fred smirked. “All righty then. You asked for it.” And he began pummelling his
twin’s willing hole. George’s eyes rolled away up into his head and he threw
his head back, arching his neck. Fred went straight for the creamy, freckled
throat before him, latching on and suckling. He could feel George’s throat
vibrating against his mouth as George moaned and swore. For a while George
struggled to get his hands free. But eventually, he relented, allowing Fred to
hold them still as he hammered away at George’s body.
The pressure behind George’s abdomen was building fast. He tilted his pelvis up
just a bit more to create even more friction against the sweet spot inside him.
And he went very quiet, eyes closed, face turned slightly away from Fred. He
stopped writhing and kept his breathing very steady. Fred knew he was focusing
on the stimulation of his prostate, hoping to come just from that. Fred stopped
kissing George’s neck, made sure to keep his thrusts smooth and even. And he
watched George closely, watched his long, ginger lashes flutter against his
lower lids, watched him lick his mouth, his fat bottom lip glistening in the
wand light.
“I-I want you to come with me,” George stammered, screwing up his face in
concentration.
“Gonna come now, Georgie?”
“Uh-huh. Freddy … I’m gonna … I’m … Fuck, yes!”
And feeling his twin’s body tightening and pulsing around him sent Fred right
over the edge. He buried his face in George’s neck, groaning loudly into it as
he emptied himself inside George.
The last groans and softly uttered curses eventually died away. As they panted
in unison, George’s hands slipped out of Fred’s now slackened grip. He brought
his arms down and around Fred’s sweaty, trembling body, held him tight.
“You okay?” George murmured.
“You always ask me that,” Fred panted.
George grinned at the low ceiling. “Should I stop asking?”
A moment’s silence, and then, “No. I like that you do. I love you, Georgie.”
George held him even tighter. “I love you, too, Fred.”
Bustling from behind a wall made them both jump. Fred rolled off George and
spelled George’s legs free, allowing George to sit up as well. Both of them
stared darkly at the wall ahead of them.
“We were definitely being watched,” said George.
“We don’t know that for sure.” Fred pulled his pants back up and crawled over
to the wall. He placed a hand on it and began feeling around. “See? There’s
nothing here. Someone might’ve been listening, but I don’t think -” He stopped
mid-sentence as his hand plunged through what looked like solid wall and got
stuck up to the knuckles.
“A cloaked hole,” said George, pulling on his own pants. “Has that been there
the whole time?”
“Dunno. Question is have we been watched every single time we’ve used this
hiding place?”
The twins exchanged worried glances then, each one wondering exactly how many
other students knew about what they did together.
“Remember what Lee said upstairs,” said George, “when we were talking too
loudly?”
“‘Get a bloody room,’” said Fred quietly. “But … No, he doesn’t know. That was
just Lee being Lee. If he knew, he’d say something to us.”
George shuddered. “I’d really rather not have that conversation. Come on, let’s
get out of here.”
After cleaning themselves off with a quick spell, George pulled on his pants
and exited the small space. He stood below, catching the pillows and blankets
Fred chucked down to him and scattered them around the common room. He caught
the rope as well and bundled it up to save for later use. Then, curious, George
wandered around to the right-hand side of the wall holding the mantle, where
the staircase leading up to the girls’ dormitories began. Fred followed,
knowing what George was looking for.
Portraits lined the walls that spiralled up to the girls’ dormitories. The
twins guessed that the very first portrait in the series on the left-hand wall
was the door to another hiding space, one right next to theirs.
“Think the little sneak’s still in there?” asked Fred.
“I doubt it. But let’s check anyway.” George retrieved his wand from his back
pocket. He gave the portrait’s frame a tap, and the picture swung open,
revealing a small, gloomy space just like theirs. Fred lit his wand tip and
pointed it inside.
“See anything?” asked George.
“Nah. Didn’t leave anything behind – Oh, wait. What’s that?”
Fred walked up a couple of steps and tried to hoist himself into the space.
George gave him a hand by wrapping his arms around Fred’s waist and lifting him
up a bit. Fred scrambled in, crawled to the opposite end of the space, picked
something up, then crawled up. He sat at the edge of the rectangular opening,
legs dangling over the side, and he held up what he’d found; half of a midnight
blue cracker speckled with little silver stars.
“That’s one of our One-Way Sound Proofing Shields, isn’t it?” said George.
Fred nodded. “Yup. No wonder we heard the little pervert. He probably didn’t
realise these things are faulty.”
Fred hopped down and George closed the portrait.
“So,” said George. “Someone knows.”
Fred nodded gravely. “Let’s hope it’s only one person.”
They stared at each other for several seconds in silence. Fred could tell by
the alertness in George’s eyes, by the way he shifted his weight from foot to
foot that he was working up the courage to say something, and Fred had a
sneaking suspicion George wanted to continue their earlier conversation.
Fred cleared his throat. “We should get to bed,” he said. George seemed to
deflate a little, but nodded and followed his brother to the other staircase
and back up to the boys’ dormitories.
 
George awoke to the hurried movements of his dormmates readying themselves for
the day. A bit of sunlight was seeping through a break in the velvet hangings
around his bed, invading his private rectangle of darkness. He grumbled at it,
hoping it would go away. It didn’t, of course, breaking only briefly when
someone passed by his bed.
He crawled to the edge of his bed and poked his head out.
“You slept late,” said Lee, hastily and sloppily tying his tie.
“Mm,” George grunted groggily, pulling his head back into the welcoming
darkness behind his hangings.
“Oh, come on, mate. It’s a beautiful day, just look at it!”
“I’ve seen it,” called George. “Make it go away.”
“Fred’s up. A package arrived for both of you this morning.”
George flopped onto his back and groaned. “Oh, no, it’s probably another Howler
from mum.” He began to massage his temples, mentally going over everything he
and Fred had done that might’ve gotten back to their mother. “I can’t take that
today, I just can’t.”
“Nah, not a Howler. Too big. See ya at breakfast if you make it on time.”
George grunted at him again, waited a few seconds, then, when he thought it was
safe to emerge, he did so, squinting angrily at the morning light. He
immediately went to the window and shut the curtains.
Fred returned to the room just then still in his pyjamas and carrying a
rectangular package, about eight by eleven inches and half an inch deep. It was
wrapped in plain, brown paper, tied with criss-crossing string.
“Where were you?” asked George.
“Asking around,” said Fred, sitting on his bed. George joined him. “This
package doesn’t say who sent it, I wanted to know if anyone knew where it’d
come from before we opened it.”
George peered at it. ‘For Fred & George’ was written across it in large,
sloping script.
“Well, it isn’t ticking, is it?” asked George.
“No. I s’pose it’s safe.” Fred pulled at the string ends and the knot came
loose. He pulled open the neatly folded flaps of the perfectly creased paper
and found a stack of photograph paper inside, all facing upside down. And there
was a note written on the back of the one on top. The twins both read it
silently.
     Dear Fred & George,
     I apologise for doing this without your permission. I swear, I meant
     no disrespect. I’m hoping you’ll take this as a compliment, actually.
     You see, you’ve been my subject of choice for quite some time now. As
     I told George last night, I prefer to catch my subjects in more
     natural situations, unaware. That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I’m
     sorry. Please don’t beat me up.
Fred glanced at George. “What d’you think, should we beat him up anyway?”
“Depends. Keep reading.”
     This stack of photographs is the result of my little project. I hope
     you like them. I hope you’re not too angry. Whether anyone else ever
     sees them is your choice. I’ll never show them around. I wouldn’t
     ever do that to you.
     Please accept these as my gift to you. You’ve been my most
     fascinating and beautiful subject yet. Thank you.
     Yours,
     Colin Creevey
The twins looked at each other.
“The little freak’s been taking our pictures without our knowledge for weeks
now,” said Fred.
“So it would appear. Well, flip that one over, let’s see what he’s done.”
Fred turned over the first, the one with the note on the back. It was a shot of
himself in his bed at night, studying, wand light illuminating his face.
“When did he take this?” asked Fred. “Oh, well, this isn’t creepy, not in the
slightest.”
He flipped over the next, and it was the one Colin had taken of George in the
hallway the night before, running his fingers through his hair.
“Nice,” said Fred, examining the way the tank top skimmed lightly over his
brother’s obviously healthy body.
“Quit ogling and go to the next one, will you?”
The next one was of both of them, sitting side by side outside by the Black
Lake, backs to the camera. It was a bright autumn day and shades of red,
orange, yellow and brown surrounded the twins, complimenting their auburns
manes. Fred could tell who was who by clothing, and he could see that he was
leaning toward George, nudging him with his shoulder.
“Ye gods, are we that obvious?” Fred muttered.
“I’m sure no one else noticed.”
“Creevey did.”
“Yes, well, I think Mr. Creevey has proven himself to be a tad off. No one else
pays this much attention to us when we’re not clowning around. Flip over the
next one.”
Fred did so, and both twins stopped dead. There they were, naked together in
their little hiding place, surrounded by pillows, bluish-white wand light
casting an eerie glow. It took a moment for them to figure out who was who, but
after a second they realised it was Fred in the front, standing on his knees,
completely exposed and erect for the camera, with George behind him, inside him
and fucking him hard and fast. George had Fred by the waist, and George’s face
was in profile as he nibbled at Fred’s ear. Fred reached up and back to cup the
back of George’s head, pressing George’s mouth to his neck for some thorough
sucking, a look of pleasure bordering on pain on Fred’s face. And they kept
going, on and on and on, Fred reaching up and back again and again while George
thrust into him tirelessly.
The room was so quiet, George heard when Fred swallowed. Fred flipped the
picture back over, put it aside with the other discarded photos and flipped
over the next one. This time Fred was in back of George and they were lying
down. Nestled cosily in their little hidden nest, George was lying on his left
side, facing the camera, fisting his own dick. Fred was spooned up behind him,
and at the angle from which this picture was taken, and with George’s legs bent
and the top one raised the way it was, one could clearly see Fred’s cock moving
steadily in and out of George’s arse. Fred’s hands were roaming about George’s
flat belly, fingering his light ginger treasure trail, then gripping his small,
solid waist. George looked back and up at Fred, parted his lips, and Fred stuck
out his tongue and inserted it into George’s mouth so they could tongue-kiss
deeply while Fred slowly and sweetly made love with his twin.
George’s heart was pounding in his chest. As many times as he and Fred had
found themselves naked and entangled in each other’s arms, they’d never
actually seen themselves this way, from the outside looking in, watching their
own faces as they fucked and kissed. The room was deathly quiet. The sunlight
had taken on a cold, almost wintery pallor.
They went through the shots, looking briefly at each one in complete silence,
barely breathing. In one shot, Fred was on all fours, back arched, arse in the
air, head hanging between his shoulders, fist gripping the blankets as George,
standing tall on his knees, took Fred from behind. Fred tossed his head back,
and his open mouth and bobbing Adam’s Apple made it clear he was screaming his
pleasure. Pleasure being provided by his twin brother.
Fred flipped the picture back over and put the entire package aside. He sat
staring straight ahead, hands clasped in his lap, jaw clenching. The wand tips
that had been visible in that last picture were still burning on his retinas,
dancing about as his eyes darted. He blinked several times quickly, looked
around the room as though something in it would erase the offending little
dots. He looked everywhere, but not at George.
“I guess we can’t really ignore it anymore, huh?” said Fred softly.
George shook his head. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
The images of them together seemed permanently imprinted in Fred’s mind now.
Looking at George as they made love had been one thing, still, somehow, easy to
ignore when the sun came up. But he’d glimpsed himself as well now. Himself
with his twin. And he wasn’t sure it was possible, but they’d never looked more
completely identical than they had in those photos.
With another hard swallow, Fred finally looked at George. George gazed back,
his eyes filled with worry. For the first time in his life, George had no idea
what his twin was about to say.
Fred took a deep, slow breath, held it for just a moment, then declared, “I
think we should talk,” with a soft seriousness George had never heard from him
before.
Pushing his fears of what lay ahead aside, George nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we
should … I told you so,” he added with a timid grin. To his relief, Fred
grinned back, elbowing him in the ribs.
“So,” Fred began. He reached back for the last photo they’d looked at, turned
it over, held it out so they could both see it clearly. “There we are. In
living colour. What does it mean? Brothers aren’t supposed to do this, so …
what are we, George?”
“Those are some pretty broad questions.”
“But you’ve been thinking about them. I know you have. You tried to talk to me
last night.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I have been, actually. There’s a lot, though. In my head. About
us. About … what this is.”
“Well,” Fred put the photo aside, turned back to George and leaned in to listen
to him. “Start at the beginning.”
And George began, and the words came more easily than he’d thought they would.
And Fred sat quietly, listened, and heard every word.
END
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