asimplechord

Title: An ecstasy of fumbling
Author: *points over at userinfo*
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Fred/Harry/George
Warning(s): incest, m/m sexual activity
Wordcount: 3400
Disclaimer: I only wish I could watch these three perform these acts. In reality, they belong to J. K. Rowling, and I'm fairly certain we'll never see this in HP canon.
Notes: Many thanks to

bar_bar_ella for photographic incentive and editorial comments. All remaining mistakes are my own. Title from Wilfred Owen's poem.
Summary: Fred, George and Harry make the trip upstairs after the events of Closing time part two.

As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

Harry was vaguely aware of George speaking, and he nodded absently, allowing the twins to usher him out the door and down the hall. It was only during the climb up the stairs that the fog of lust that had been blinding him began to clear. When the haze of pleasure faded, he glanced back at George, wondering what the hell he should say. He gulped when his eyes fell to the bulge in George's pants. His hand had just been touching that, holding it, encouraging it. He shivered with remembered desire and anticipation. THAT was what the hell he was going to do. Speaking was unnecessary.

At the top of the stairs, there was only one door. Fred opened it and waved Harry and George through. Harry had been up here before. The flat was small, one room divided into sitting and sleeping areas and a bathroom off to the side. Rather than a partition or wall separating the sitting area from the bedroom, a screen hid the bed from view. Harry supposed it was the twins' attempt at discretion. He wondered for a moment if everyone knew about the twins' relationship, or if most people assumed that Fred and George were simply brothers with the same birthday, working together and sharing living space.

Harry headed to the sofa and perched on the edge, watching as Fred closed the door behind George. He locked it, but didn't bother with a Silencing charm. It was after hours, and there was no one downstairs, no one to hear anything that followed except them.

Harry was frozen with uncertainty. How far would they want this to go? Would anything that happened here affect their friendship? Their business relationship? Worse still, what would Ginny or Mrs. Weasley say if they knew? Panic momentarily overwhelmed Harry, but then he looked at Fred and George, standing by the door, George's arm resting companionably around Fred's waist, and it diminished. Still slightly nervous, he stood, forcing himself to move toward the bedroom area, but Fred and George gestured him back to the sofa.

He watched in some confusion as the twins had a conversation simply with eye contact and raised eyebrows.

"We realize that, given the major focus of your attention over the last couple of years, you've probably not had much time to experiment."

Harry opened his mouth to deny this, but decided that it was wiser to allow Fred and George to remain ignorant of how far his relationship with Ginny had progressed. No matter how cool they were, the twins WERE Ginny's older brothers. They were maybe not quite as protective of her as Ron, but he didn't want to provoke them. Instead, he meekly shook his head and lowered his gaze.

Sharp brown eyes studied him before Fred spoke again.

"We're guessing that you've never messed around with another bloke before, either?"

Harry shook his head again, acknowledging his inexperience.

"Do you know what two blokes DO when they have sex together?" That was George.

"Of course I do! I couldn't have lived in a dorm with Seamus for six years without figuring THAT out!" Just because he was relatively inexperienced, it didn't mean he was stupid.

"No offence, Harry. Just checking. While we're on that topic… it doesn't bother you, what Fred and I get up to? Seeing as we're brothers?"

Harry contemplated the pair of them, trying to organize his thoughts in a way that the men in front of him might understand. Finally, he shook his head and decided to chuck the idea of eloquence. They'd get it.

"No, it doesn't bother me. Obviously." He grinned, gesturing toward the door, down to the room they'd just left. "You two are gorgeous together. You're so well matched, so equal. That can't be wrong, no matter what anyone says. It's not as if you're hurting anyone. And besides, you're fucking hot to watch."

More non-verbal conversation, then the twins pushed away from the wall and moved to flank Harry on the sofa. He had a flash of the three of them, pressed together like this, only closer, and shivered.

"There's just one other thing…"

"Ginny."

Harry sighed in relief. He'd been afraid they were going to make an outlandish request or joke. This, he could deal with.

"I told her last year not to wait for me. I've told her that since, as well. I don't know why she isn't dating anyone else. Dean's asked after her a dozen times, and I know that Neville fancies her like mad."

"As long as you're clear on it. Going back and forth between us and her wouldn't be fair to anybody." Harry relaxed slightly after George's decree.

"We think she suspects there's something a bit unusual about our relationship," Fred continued, "but she's never said. We'd prefer that it stay that way. No flaunting or gossiping."

"I wouldn't!" What did they think he'd do, rub Ginny's nose in the fact that he had shagged someone else? Two someone elses, who happened to be her brothers?

"Just had to be sure. You'd never believe how some blokes gossip. Then again, you're Ron's best mate, so maybe you would."

Shuddering at the memory of Ron's tales of his and Lavender's exploits, Harry had to concede Fred's point.

"You're sure you want to do this? I mean… you two are obviously together. What do you want me for?" Harry asked.

Fred and George leaned so that they could see each other around Harry. Yet more shared glances, tilts of their heads, and arching of eyebrows communicated Merlin-knew-what. With a silent double nod, the twins rose, pulling Harry up with them, away from the sofa.

"We are together, and nothing will change that. But that doesn't mean we never want anyone else. And if you don't mind the both of us…" Fred shrugged, not bothering to continue that thought.

"And why you? Someone has a serious self-image problem. We'll have to take care of that."

Fred's arm looped around Harry's waist, guiding him to the other side of the flat. When they passed by the screen, George waved his wand, and the illusion of two full beds disappeared, revealing a single large bed.

Harry and Fred faced each other at the end of the bed. George busied himself pulling down the duvet and propping pillows up against the head of the bed. When he turned to see Harry just standing there awkwardly, he tsked.

"If you're going to do this, you might as well learn to do it properly. Go on, closer. Kiss 'im."

Harry stepped closer, close enough to feel heat radiating off Fred, and hesitantly put his hands on Fred's shoulders, standing on tiptoe when Fred didn't immediately lower his head. He brushed his lips over Fred's, sighing when Fred's opened. He didn't stop the almost-innocent kiss when George's instructions continued.

"If you're in a hurry or in a semi-public place, it's fine for clothes to stay on. Now, though, why don't you undress Fred?"

Harry let his hands drift from Fred's shoulder to the top button of his shirt, and he pulled back to watch as his fingers – could those really be HIS fingers, moving so steadily down the shirt placket? – loosened one button after another from their moorings. The shirttail, still loose where Fred had untucked it earlier, hung free to Fred's hips. Harry reached up and pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting gravity pull the sleeves to his wrists and off.

Fred smiled, waiting patiently as Harry slid his hands slowly down, off shoulders round with muscle, across his pectorals, lightly brushing copper-colored nipples as they passed. He was fairly certain that he'd seen Fred naked in the Quidditch changing rooms years ago, but he hadn't paid much attention to his body back then. Now Harry admired musculature normally hidden from view. Brewing prank potions and swinging a Beater's bat had given bulk to Fred's chest. Wondering if they truly WERE identical, Harry glanced speculatively at George, who was leaning by the head of the bed. He'd find out eventually, he was sure.

Down the chest, around the ribcage – his light touch there made Fred twitch away and smother a laugh – Harry let his hands drop until they rested on the waistband of his trousers.

"Well, go on. He won't bite. Unless you want him to."

More than George's words, Fred's smirk spurred Harry to action. He slid his right hand to cup the erection tenting the black wool. He tried to hold it firmly, to squeeze and stroke the way he liked to touch himself, but the zip and fabric were in the way, making a tight grip impossible. Boldly, Harry unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped, pushing the trousers and pants aside. Once past the curve of Fred's hips, the weight of the belt pulled them down to pool at his ankles, and Harry got a good look at him.

Harry gulped. Fred was—it was—there was NO WAY he was going to manage having that thing inside him. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to get more than half of it in his mouth.

"You're—you're big!"

Recognizing the hint of panic in Harry's voice, Fred grabbed his hand and put it back on his cock, wrapping his fingers all the way around it now that it was free.

"One thing at a time. No rush. No pressure."

Harry tightened his fist, shifting it slightly so that his thumb could slide along the ridge, and stroked. Fred groaned, his eyes falling closed as he pushed himself closer to Harry. Harry was fascinated, torn between cataloguing the shifting expressions on Fred's face and concentrating on the feel of the cock in his hand, so similar and yet so different – longer, thicker, his mind supplied – from his own.

The sound of George clearing his throat nearby eventually intruded.

"Now would be a good time to finish undressing and move to a more comfortable spot." He gestured toward the bed.

Intrigued by the idea of such personal care – his experience with Ginny had felt oddly impersonal, and had involved rearranging clothing to make the appropriate bits available – Harry knelt to remove Fred's shoes and socks. From that angle, his erection looked even more impressive, its dark red skin standing out from the paleness of his belly, pre-come glistening on the head. He eyed the coarse red hair surrounding the base and the pendulous balls hanging below it, drew in a quick breath, testing his reaction to another man's scent.

When Harry stood, Fred stepped out of the pile of clothing and deposited himself in the center of the bed, stretched out and on display. Harry admired the creamy skin against white sheets, the gingery red hair and copper freckles the brightest spots of color. The rustle of fabric finally forced him to drag his gaze away, and he saw George, now equally naked – yes, Fred and George really WERE identical, he noticed – climb onto the bed and prop himself up on the pillows at the headboard, close to Fred but not touching him. Both eyed Harry expectantly.

Nervous now, less sure than ever why the twins would want him when they had each other, he shrugged out of his jumper and kicked off his trainers, shucking trousers and pants quickly before settling himself on the opposite side of the bed, near Fred's hip. When Harry didn't move, just sat there biting his lip, Fred looped a hand around his wrist and gently pulled him down to curl against his side.

"No rush."

No rush. Except that the desire he'd felt downstairs had returned. Had never vanished to begin with. It had been swamped with nerves and diffidence, but the feel of that warm body pressed the length of his burned any and all insecurities away.

Harry shifted his weight, maneuvering so that he could kiss Fred and hold his cock at an angle that was workable for his wrist and good for Fred. The fact that this position pressed his own returning erection against the ridge of Fred's pelvis was a bonus. He squeezed his fist tentatively, then shifted his grip, readjusting to vary between pumping the complete length of Fred's shaft and working the couple of inches close to the head. He tried rubbing the head the way he liked on his own, but from the pained sound and jerk of Fred's hips away, he figured it might be too sensitive, so he went back to the motions that had been working, pulling harder and faster.

Hearing the slap of flesh on flesh, Harry lifted his head reluctantly, dragging his lips across Fred's once more before looking over at George. The sight that met his eyes had Harry biting his lip and pressing himself more tightly against Fred's hip: George's eyes were focused on Harry's hand around Fred's knob, and he was wanking.

Me and Fred as wank material! Some part of his brain just couldn't believe it. Another, pervier part, nodded eagerly in agreement, and urged him to get back to what he had been doing.

Deciding he needed both hands, Harry sat up. He pushed Fred's legs apart and knelt between them, returning his attention to the inches of flesh at the apex of the spread thighs. He wrapped one hand around the base of the swollen cock, and fisted the other just above it, twisting and squeezing as he stroked it up and down. The lower hand he left in the same position, tightening and releasing rhythmically as the other moved, changing the pace until he found one Fred seemed to like. After a couple of minutes of increasingly fervent wanking and quiet moaning of both twins, Harry moved the hand that was gripping the base of the shaft, sliding it down to gently pet Fred's balls, then to cradle them more firmly. A gentle squeeze and tug had Fred's hips jerking and George moaning.

Harry leaned closer, shifting so that instead of kneeling he could lay on his belly; now he had two handsful and an eyeful of cock and balls. The scent of Fred's flesh prompted a sense memory, and he flashed back to the vision of Fred and George together in their workroom, of Fred's mouth on his prick, of coming down Fred's throat. His mouth watered at the idea of trying that, tasting that for himself.

Tentatively, he blew a soft puff of warm breath across the flesh before him. Fred's cock jumped, and he moaned. Making eye contact with George across the plane of Fred's abdomen, Harry stuck out his tongue and swiped a swathe up the side of the twitching prick before him. He could see George's hand tighten, and Fred's whole body stiffened in response. Afraid he had done something wrong, Harry pulled back.

Fred's hand released its death grip on the sheets at his hip and flopped onto Harry's shoulder, grabbing him before he could retreat too far.

"More. Oh fuck, more. Take it all."

With the demand in Fred's voice encouraging him, Harry applied himself to his task. He tried to remember what he had liked the one time Ginny had hurriedly done this – don't think about the way she grimaced and rushed and complained about it later – and what Fred had done to him earlier, but his brain had turned off the moment Fred's mouth had touched his cock. He'd have to improvise.

One hand banded around the thick base and angled it up, lifting it away from Fred's belly. Harry tentatively licked at the purple-red head before closing his lips over it and sucking lightly. A swipe of the tongue along the vee underneath, then he let the head slide out of his mouth and licked a path down to the point where his hand rested, and back up. He tightened his fist; he was fairly certain that he wouldn't be able to fit the entire thing down his throat without gagging, so he aimed to hold the base and focus his attention on what he could manage. He went back to alternately licking and sucking the knob and the first few inches of cock, squeezing and stroking the shaft as he moved his head, lower and lower, taking more in his mouth each time it closed over Fred again. Occasionally, he'd let his hand drop to cradle and caress the heavy sac below.

He felt Fred's hand lift from his shoulder, and glanced up to see him take a white-knuckled grip on the bed's railing behind his head. Fred's other hand remained fisted in the sheets near his hip and his eyes were closed, but George's were open, fixed on Harry's mouth and its activities.

Fred was tense beneath him, and Harry could feel the balls in his hand draw up and throb. Before he could quite decide if he wanted to move or stay there and swallow, Fred's hand came back down to the back of his neck, holding him there while the cock his mouth was stretched around shot its load in three powerful spurts. Caught by surprise, Harry tried to swallow, and Fred moaned at the ripple of muscle prolonging his orgasm. The semen that Harry didn't manage to catch dribbled down his chin. Swallowing, considering his mouthful, he decided he liked the taste: bitter, salty, not quite the same as his own come had tasted on Fred's lips. With a final swipe and suck of Fred's softening cock, he pulled away, wiping his chin with the back of his hand to catch any stray drops, his tongue sneaking out to gather them.

Fred's hand fell away, and Harry looked up the stretch of his torso to see him, his arms now relaxed at his sides, lying back, eyes still closed, an utterly sated expression on his face.

George, on the other hand, still looked hungry. He leaned over Fred's body and kissed Harry. His tongue swept through Harry's mouth, seeking his brother's essence. When he realized what George was doing, Harry moaned in pleasure, and pressed his cock, now fully swollen and aching, something he had been vaguely aware of while his focus had been so completely on what he was doing to Fred, against the bed.

Drawing back, George eyed Harry. His predatory gaze made Harry shiver in anticipation, as did his next words.

"Are you ready for more?"

When Harry nodded dumbly, George shifted Fred to the side and arranged himself and Harry for his next lesson: the fine art of sixty-nine.

When Harry finally collapsed in exhaustion, Fred helped reposition Harry so that the three of them were spooned together, and cast rudimentary cleaning and tooth brushing charms – "You'll appreciate that in the morning, mate" – before yawning and waving down the lights.

"We'll have a bit of a kip before your next lesson."

*****

Harry woke in the dark of night, disoriented. He could feel the warmth of a body just inches away from his front, and there was another curved against his back. The unmistakable feel of an erection aligned with the crack of his arse had him arching his hips, and the motion spurred the body in front of him to slide closer, pressing a second erection close to his own happily twitching cock, which apparently had a mind of its own. A hand squeezed the two pricks together, and Harry grunted in pleasure.

One mouth was moving from his ear, down his neck, to his shoulder, while a second one took his mouth in the most carnal kiss he had ever shared.

Three bodies frotted together in a pantomime of intercourse. Sticky with sweat and saliva, aroused suddenly and sharply, Harry could imagine that this feeling, this desire, would make taking one of those thick, hard pricks worth it, would give unimaginable pleasure once the initial pain was past. Grinding against the cock behind him, gliding his cock through the hand in front, he was a mass of nerve endings, purely physical. When the mouth at his ear dropped again to the nape of his neck and bit, not quite gently, Harry surrendered, coming hard, as if he hadn't come in months, rather than hours.

As he tumbled back to sleep, Harry wondered what it would be like to do that with Fred or George inside him.

He'd have to ask in the morning.

To read the George/Harry bit that isn't described in detail above, see Wrath, in the Seven Deadly Sins series.