Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/73694.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Neville_Longbottom/Fred_Weasley/George_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Give_Neville_Blow_Jobs, Blow_Jobs, Twins, Pranks_and_Practical_Jokes
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-07-22 Words: 773
****** Valid ID Required ******
by cmshaw
Summary
     The Weasley twins make special deliveries.
Notes
     Commentfic for mizzmarvel's "Give_Neville_Blow_Jobs_Meme", originally
     posted there.
"Now, Neville," said Fred, or possibly George --
"If you are Neville," said George, or possibly Fred.
"Right, or whoever you are, you know that we need to check your identity before
handing over this crate of high valuable supplies." Fred waggled his eyebrows.
"I'm Neville Longbottom, Fred," Neville protested, in case they really meant
it. "You've known me for years. I had a toad named Trevor. I'm with
Dumbledore's Army."
"Oh, any Death Eater would say that, wouldn't they, George?" Fred said.
"Quite so, Fred," George answered. "So go on, test him." He crossed his arms
and leaned against the big wooden crate marked DANGER: HILARITY INSIDE.
Fred finished unbuttoning Neville's robes and grinned up at him from where he'd
slid to his knees as soon as Neville had arrived at the pub. "Alright then,
Neville or whoever, let me have a taste."
Neville was sure his face was bright red. Not only could he feel it burning
hot, but two deliveries ago they'd actually made the exchange in a boy's
bathroom in Hogwarts and he'd seen his own face in the mirror glowing a more
vivid red than the hair on the bobbing head of the boy on his knees (George,
that time, or so he thought). Still, he was getting a little bit used to it and
it was so much better than a Canary Cream that he'd really stopped looking for
the humiliating punchline and just gone with it -- like he did now, sticking
his hand into his trousers and pulling out his prick, offering it on his open
hand to Fred's mouth.
"Mmm," Fred said as he closed his lips around the crown of it and sucked, and
Neville locked his knees and tried not to groan.
"How's it taste, then?" George said. When Neville flicked his glance over,
George was grinning lazily.
Fred pulled his mouth away with a wet popping noise, like a tiny Disapparition.
The crown of Neville's prick was shiny, and Neville closed his eyes and thought
firmly about splinching and didn't shriek when he could feel the air from Fred
saying, "It's a match so far, but I'd better be sure."
"Of course, of course," George was probably saying, but Fred's mouth was back
around Neville's prick and the backs of Neville's knees were sweaty and shaky
now. Splinching, Neville reminded himself. Fred wrapped his hand around the
base of Neville's prick and started moving hand and mouth together in a harsh
kneecap-shattering rhythm. Flobberworms, Neville thought desperately. Fanged
Geraniums. Flesh-eating slugs. Fucking Fred Weasley's mouth with the heat and
the vibrating moans and the tongue that wouldn't stop moving--
Distantly, Neville heard himself saying, "Oh, oh, OH!" and George saying,
perhaps in response, "Oh yeah, that's the stuff, mate," but it wasn't
particularly important. Nothing short of You-Know-Who could be as important as
Fred Weasley's mouth at that moment in time. Every time Neville shuddered he
could feel himself sliding inside of Fred's mouth and over his tongue, which
made him shudder more; he was a little afraid and a little hopeful that he'd
never stop, although eventually, like always, he did.
"Mmm," Fred said again, and slid his mouth away with a much wetter sound this
time. Neville opened his eyes. Fred licked his lips, winked at him, and turned
toward George. "That's good old Neville," he said, and rocked back on his heels
to stand up. "You want to check for yourself?"
"What, shouldn't I trust my own brother?" George said with a grin.
"Oh, go on, don't say I wouldn't share," Fred said, tipping his face to the
side and sticking out his chin.
George laughed and licked his brother's cheek, running his tongue through the
line of spunk stretching from the corner of Fred's mouth. He made a show of
leaning back and smacking his lips thoughtfully. "Yup," he said finally, "I
think you're right, Fred. That's Neville for sure."
Fred clapped his hands. "Right then, Neville!" he said. "Here's the delivery
for Dumbledore's Army, sign here," and he thrust a clipboard into Neville's no
longer shaking hands. Neville took the attached quill, rapidly shook it three
times to prevent it from turning into a rubber chicken -- George and Fred both
laughed -- and signed the bottom of the page. Fred was scrubbing his face clean
with a handkerchief while Neville signed, and by the time Neville was done he
looked as proper as ever, which wasn't terribly proper but wasn't endangering
Neville's knees any longer either. "And we're off! Lots of Order business, you
know."
And Fred and George tipped him a wink and a grin before popping away.
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