AUTHOR: UnderLucius
TITLE: Barriers
FANDOM: Harry Potter
PAIRING: GW/FW
WARNING: Twincest. Not very graphic though, you know me, can't call a spade a spade.
RATING: NC-17 this means sex so please don't read on if that offends you
DISCLAIMER: Last time I looked I still wasn't JK Rowling, dammit. More polyjuice potion please.
BARRIERS
He can hear him shouting. They are playing Quidditch on the hill above the cottage but he'd said he'd had a headache and hadn't gone.
He knows they'll be asking where he is. "Where's your brother?" they'll say and he will shrug with that casual way he has, not worrying, not concerned because they are always together, even when they're apart. The headache is a lie and they both know it.
They've never discussed it, never told anyone of it, for they didn't realise until they were eight or nine that everyone didn't have the same connection that they did with each other. Now they know it, they keep it to themselves, hidden away. George doesn't worry about it, but Fred clasps it to himself like a furtive publication, afraid to bring it out into the light for if such things are brought into the glare of the day they tarnish and cheapen in the spotlight of other's misunderstanding.
His stomach lurches; there's a feeling of inertia and he knows that George is flying recklessly, he can feel the hurt behind the bravado, tinged with purple, laced in anger. He sends him conciliatory thoughts and he feels George soften imperceptibly. It's not thoughts they hear; not words but something deeper: headier. Emotions. Needs. Love. He probes the other mind softly gently pushing his repentance into his brother's consciousness, imagining it sliding into his brain the way his cock slides into George's body. He knows George will feel the intrusion but he doesn't care; Words spoken in anger that morning must be converted into reason, and even though neither will say they are sorry, he knows that he can kiss the hurt away with a thought, if his brother lets him in.
George's mind tightens; a small angry barrier like that tender ring of muscle between freckled cheeks. He's blocking him and Fred's eyes fill with tears in impotent sorrow, and that reflex is all the trigger it takes. He feels a swoop of movement and George is sweet contrition, waves of empathy bathing him in forgiveness. He's coming back, and he's moving fast. Fred feels his groin warm, his cock beginning its anticipatory swelling, readying itself for a reconciliatory lovemaking and he knows that George has ordered this hardness, sending the directive subliminally to show that he has truly forgotten their argument.
Voices, words he can't distinguish, then footsteps on the stairs and he's here as the barriers between them crumble into nothing but the dust of absolution. Naked their thoughts, and naked their bodies as they move together, his brother's mind, his arms, his legs, his sweet cleft all open up to him with a smile of purient melding, so unbearably teasing, so wonderfully wild it makes him feel that he wants to dip his fingers into the sweetness of him and suck them afterwards, just to see how he tastes.
A twinge of sorrow that others can't experience this bonded ecstasy, which is swept away as they climb that dizzy ladder together, eyes tight shut, and so close that nothing could separate them, sensation takes over from thought, skin and friction and pressure and So Much Need that they are both crying when the frenzy peaks into waves of hot release. Fred holds on tighter than he ever has, leeching every drop of emotion from the connection until it all starts to fade back and they can safely untangle their minds.
"Maybe you won't be such a prat next time." Says George as he spoons behind him, their bodies fitting together as neatly as their thoughts, but they both know that he will be, for Fred is the worrier and the row had been over girls and what they would ever do if they had to choose between life together and life apart. He knows by the barriers in his brother's mind that he is refusing even now to let it into his consciousness so Fred stares at the wall in the bedroom which is less real and more illusionary than the high black wall he will never be able to scale in George's mind.
And Fred knows that if he mentions it again� he will shrug with that casual way he has, not worrying, not concerned because they are always together, even when they're apart
But lying like this; skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat, Fred knows that he never wants to be apart again, but he can't force the issue, so now there is a barrier in Fred's mind that George will never see.