Dancing with Ghosts

[ickleronikins]

Ron wasn't entirely sure how he should take their mum's suggestion that he move in with George and help with the shop.  Sure, it really was a brilliant suggestion, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if she was just sick of having him mope around the Burrow.  He wasn't like Harry, Hermione, even Ginny, with their jobs at the Ministry, and playing

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[weasleykink]

There's a quick grin that's difficult to suppress when Ron points out he'd have insisted there'd been a bet riding on it. At first he's just letting Ron kiss him when he comes back for more, but then he moves into it, arms curling tight around Ron's body, drawing him in and kissing back in the moments before Ron pulls away again.

He nods when Ron says he isn't asking for anything. Tells him he loves him, but he's not expecting more, not expecting to replace Fred, to fit into his life in all the ways that Fred had. He nods again with an exhale, and realizes that he really does need the space to step back and think about this, let it all sink in. Continuing now without giving himself time to reflect would hurt, would be confusing, and more importantly, if he wasn't ready he could end up hurting or confusing Ron. This wasn't the kind of thing to just jump into, and even if it was, Ron deserved more than that.

"Yeah," he says softly, shifting and tugging the blankets a little higher around them both, and he murmurs, "I'd like that…"

It's nice not sleeping alone, but it's even nicer not to wake up alone. Morning came and found Ron still cuddling him as if George was an overgrown stuffed animal, and there were a few fleeting moments where George was able to watch Ron sleeping, quietly learning the familiar but not identical line of his mouth, full and slightly pouty in his sleep. The moment was setting his mind to wandering, from Ron's mouth to moments like these with Fred, but how it was like looking into a slightly altered mirror world, where everything was similar on the surface only.

The following day had been set aside for settling in, running errands if need be, but mostly finishing unpacking and resting up from the exertion of it. Monday would bring work in the shop, but it was Sunday still and that meant doing a lot of nothing. Afternoon rolled around, and they flopped down on the sofa to watch some of television. Fred and George had gotten it after they'd moved in here, mostly for porn watching purposes after an eye-opening visit to muggle London, but they also enjoyed queueing up James Bond films and the like. Right now, George sat slumped more in the middle than to the side of the sofa, feet up on the coffee table as they watched their way through some recent Doctor Who's, George unable to keep from commenting and being obnoxious at every turn.

[ickleronikins]

It's the first night in the past year where Ron hasn't woken up from either vicious, vivid nightmares, or with that cloying sensation of screaming terror he can't quite remember. Waking up, breathing in George, that warmth of his body still under his hands, still cuddling into him as his eyelashes flutter open to the light of a day that seems warmer than he's felt in quite sometime.

"Oh, come off it. It's been ages since the last time I splinched myself." Ron pointed out, although 'ages' was most certainly quite an exaggeration. He shoved at his brother's shoulder petulantly, and brazenly swung his legs across George's lap. "Even have my license to apperate now."

But his brother already knows that. He knows he's just harassing him, but Ron's never been able to resist playing into their games, the playful way they'd terrorize him. And honestly, he's missed it. Even if its not the same without Fred taking the second line of attack, the world feels even more wrong when he's not getting teased at all.

"Besides, you wouldn't be a sight better. You'd take on some poor girl, put your feet on her pillows and she'd be gone the next day. Be a rubbish show." He was smiling at his brother, and for a moment, he felt warm and happy, and the sadness slipped away.

[weasleykink]

"Shows what you know," he says, making a face as Ron drapes his legs over his lap, as if it's unwelcome. "I'd pick Rory up before I went after a twit like Amy… and so what if I would put my feet on his pillows? He'd probably like it… spend the night having sweet dreams about my feet," he grins and wraps his arms around Rons' legs and gives a tug, sliding him down so he's not sitting comfortably anymore, but is practically laying on the couch.

"It's a miracle you're still intact," he chirps, going back to his initial line of insults; Ron is awful at apparation. "Are these even your real legs?" he asks, and he's lifting the cuffs of his jeans to check that his ankles and calves are real, but he knows that Ron's unbelievably ticklish and that the gentle brushes that threaten to do actual tickling to his feet will be ticklish themselves with the threat of it.

[ickleronikins]

"There's nothing sweet in dreaming about your feet," Ron declared petulantly, squirming as George grabbed his legs and pulled him further down on the couch so he wasn't sitting, but mostly lying down now. He scowled dramatically, trying to resituate himself across his brother's lap, trying to seem as put out as he wanted it to be. But, this was actually kind of nice, the playful banter, as he rolled his eyes.

"Of course they're my real legs -- stoppit," he broke off and demanded, his squirms suddenly intensifying as George's fingers were dangerously close to his feet, brushing against his ankles. He was painfully ticklish about his feet and ankles, a fact that his brothers have abused to the point that it only takes the threat of it to start him thrashing. He grabs onto George's shoulder, and with a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes, tries to pull him down. They used to wrestle all the time, and Ron always lost, but he'd been younger then, and two-on-one was never fair, anyway.

[weasleykink]

"Oi, you're awfully judgy for someone whose feet have been known to kill garden gnomes," but then Ron is squirming in fear of being tickled and he's got an overwhelming urge to pin him down. It's been years since they've wrestled, and he's rarely wrestled with him without Fred around to make the score thoroughly uneven, and he doesn't quite know who would win these days in a fair fight. Ron is more solid than he used to be, broader and stronger, and he's got an awful feeling - a thrillingly awful feeling - that Ron could beat him now.

He's been thinking about last night. Every spare second of the day, he'd been thinking on it, about what Ron had said and how he had felt, laying in bed with him in his arms. He hasn't tried to find anyone else up until now, because he knew there was no one that could replace Fred, but he realizes that isn't what last night felt like. It didn't feel like he was trying to replace Fred, just to fill an empty space in his life, and Ron did that in an entirely different way, a way that has always just been Ron.

"They don't really look real… maybe it's your feet, though. Maybe you've got one of those bionic muggle feet."

He's dangerously close to actually tickling Ron's thrashing foot when he tries to pull him down like he's trying to wrestle him into stopping with his feet. He follows that tug downwards, grappling to get his arms to keep him from twisting their positions around and pinning him to the sofa, but he's not entirely sure he'll be successful.

[ickleronikins]

"I do not have muggle feet," Ron declares, though he's unable to keep it from coming out with a huff of a laugh. There's a smiling thrill to the idea of wrestling with George, and as the older redhead moves with that tug, and is going for Ron's hands, he knows that's exactly what they're going for. He wants it, he realizes, as more than just a way to keep George's hands off his ticklish feet, but there's a thrill to the idea of it, to bodies pressing together and struggling. He also thinks he might be able to win now. And Merlin but there's a vindictive part of him that loves that idea.

He manages to keep George from pinning his hands, and he's trying to get his legs around his brothers longer limbs. His hands moving, trying to catch at George's shoulders, give Ron the leverage to flip their bodies. He wants to pin him down, hold him, and maybe pretend he can't hear him for a moment or two. There's also the closeness, the fact that it just feels good to touch him.

He doesn't want to replace Fred in George's heart, just like George won't replace Fred in his. But he still loves him, wants him, not to replace what they've lost, but to light the dark places. He won't press it, he'd honestly been a bit worried that things might be awkward between them, but he's glad that they're not. If anything, things somehow seem almost easier than they had the day before.

[weasleykink]

They've hardly begun, and Ron is already startlingly better at this than he used to be. He's escaping the way he's gone for Ron's hands and he's turning this against him, working to use his legs to steal the upper hand that he's got, trying to flip them over. George is losing ground and fast, and there's a frantic sort of chuckle, but then he feels as though he's going fall off the edge of the sofa as Ron struggles to push him down, and instead of fighting, he's suddenly holding on desperately so that he doesn't land on the floor.

[ickleronikins]

Ron can feel that George is slipping, and he grabs onto him, holds on tight, and he uses his hips, leverages his body to roll them over. He's pulling George away from the edge, pushing him into the couch, saving him from falling. Or, more accurately, pinning him more fully into the couch. He's going for his hands, sliding hands from his shoulders to his biceps, trying to hold him down.

There's a thrill, and this strikes him breathless. Being able to hold him down, getting the better or his older brother. George has height on him, but Ron is doing his best to negate the advantage of his longer limbs. "Given how you're flopping around, I'd say you're the one with bionic parts," Ron murmured impishly, all lifted eyebrows and a flushed face.

[weasleykink]

He's glad that Ron is saving him from falling off the edge of the sofa, but he's less glad that he's using it as an excuse and an opportunity to pin him against the back edge of the sofa. However, there's a part of him that is quite pleased, actually, to find himself in this position. Not the losing part, but the contact, the length of Ron's body pressed to his, the solid grip of hands on his biceps.

He doesn't quite know if this is just wrestling or if they're circling in on something more, but he wants it to be more. Ron's flushed and excited, but it's different than how he got when they wrestled him to the floor when he was a kid. This is breathless and he wants more, actually wants Ron to win, to pin him down, even though if this becomes something more he wants to switch, flip them back over so that Ron is beneath him.

"There's one part of me that's definitely not bionic…" his voice is low, and it's suggestive, and he is fighting back (he's too proud not to) but he's losing, and he's surprisingly aroused at the fact that he is. He can't shove Ron off, and he's getting hard beneath him, and he's switching tactics, squirming his hips to distract him, fighting dirty in more ways than one.

[ickleronikins]

That comment catches his breath, makes his eyes go wide and his lips part with surprise, because it's undeniably suggestive. And as they move, as George struggles, and Ron fights to keep him pinned down, there's a definite sexuality in their motions. The way Ron uses his hips to try and keep him pinned, the way that George squirms underneath his body. George refuses the stay still, and the way he squirms is doing things to Ron that he's trying to ignore.

That is, until he can feel George's erection prodding against his thigh, and suddenly he realizes that he's not the only one affected. "You're a bloody cheat," Ron gasps breathlessly. He's so overwhelmed that he's having trouble keeping up, but he absolutely refuses to let George win (he has his pride, too). But he wants more, he wants it to be less about holding him down and more about the friction. He's leaning into it, moving against the way his brother's hardness pressing against him. He's awe-struck and not sure he's allowed but it's so good he can't help himself.

"You should just admit when you've lost," he says, but breathless as he is, it comes out more like a growl. He's shaking, trembling, uncertain but flushed with desire as his hands move down to catch George's wrists and he tries to cement his hold on him. It's hard to focus but he refuses to give in.

"If you ask nice, maybe I'll let you go." After the things George and Fred used to do he's earned being at least a little bit of a git. And he rather wants to see what happens when George gets his hands back.

[weasleykink]

George can't help the little grin that comes over his face when Ron calls him a cheat. He knows Ron can feel it, because all of a sudden he went from just trying to wrestle him down to staring down at him with pupils blown. And Ron's getting hard, too, he can feel it rubbing at his hip. For the moment, he's not really fighting him off, just moving into the way that Ron presses down against him, pinning him down to the sofa beneath him.

"I never lose," George manages, voice low and full of promise where Ron's hardly exists for the breathless growl of it. He realizes too late that Ron's coming for his wrists, and twists them to push him off, but then he stops trying too hard because he wants to feel the strength in his younger brother's body, in his arms and hands, wants to know just how tightly he can hold him down before George turns the tables on all of this.

"And I don't ask nice," he adds. It can be noted that he didn't object to being called a cheat, because it's true, he is one. "You better hope you've got a good hold on my hands, because once I get 'em back, you're gonna pay…"

He curls his hands into fists and twists his wrists, trying to throw Ron off, but really just barely. He's more focused on getting his legs wrapped around Ron's, to gain a little leverage, distract him from the various ways he's pinning him so that he can steal back the upper hand. He succeeds in wrapping one leg around Ron's, upsetting the solid stance he'd had and effectively pressing them more tightly together as he rocks and writhes back and forth, trying to throw Ron off so he can flip them over.

[ickleronikins]

He can't help the way that he shivers when George declares that he never loses, and it's hot and full of promise and for a fraction of a moment he bites at his lip. This feels good, and Merlin, but he wants more, wants the friction and the heat and all of it. He'd honestly never thought much of sex, it was stumbling and strange and awkward, more than anything. But this wasn't. It was searing and so good, even with their clothes still on.

He catches George's wrists, pinning them easily when George stop resisting quite so hard. His lips quirk as his brother refuses that playful offer that if he just asked nicely he'd let him go. He swallows at the threat that follows, and it prepares him for the way George tries to throw him, and he manages to keep his grasp.

What he doesn't manage to do is keep George from getting wrapped around him, and he gasps, sudden and sharp and wide-eyed like he hadn't quite expected it when George writhes against him. His hips jerking, and he's trying to hold on, but he can't help how his grip starts to loosen; he's so overwhelmed and shaking with the pleasure. It's so good, and nothing has ever been this good before. There's a soft whine, so entirely different from last night, pupils devouring the blue of his eyes as he looks down at George like he's drunk with it.

[weasleykink]

He'd never thought of Ron as formidable, but he is now. The lingering remnants of teases from their youth were kept out of sentimentality, because the truth was that Ron wasn't so inept and clumsy and little as he had been even half a dozen years ago. Now he's got him well pinned, and the solidity of his frame, the breadth of his shoulders manage to make George not feel like a giant in comparison.

He watches the way Ron's reacting, how his lips quirk, almost cocky, and then the swallow, his throat drawing George's attention, and he wants to taste his skin, wants to follow how his adam's apple moves with his tongue and his lips… but he can't let himself be distracted because Ron is finally letting down his guard, he's finally not expecting what's next, and George manages to throw him over.

Suddenly it's a mad rush of twisting and squirming hips, legs wound together as George uses his weight and fights hard, using every last scrap of experience earned from growing up with a twin who was equally skilled as you were, when every fight ended in desperate and dirty tactics. There's a point, just as he's moving to press Ron down flat on his back, that he feels himself starting to lose the upper hand again, and he kisses him hard to startle him out of any plans he has, any course of action he's putting into play.

He falls easily then, down against the sofa, and George's hands find Ron's wrists and maybe he's not so much pinning him as he is seeing if he likes the way it feels to be pinned. George's fingertips caress pulse points, and they're pressed together tight at the hips as George uses his body to hold Ron down.

[ickleronikins]

There's a gasp when George suddenly manages to force leverage, using his grip on Ron's body to toss him down on the couch. They're squabbling, Ron desperately trying to regain control, to keep George from flipping him entirely, from gaining the upper hand. But, just when he thinks he just might be able to escape, keep him from entirely pushing him down, push his brother back into the couch, George kisses him and Ron loses. His eyelashes flutter, and it's impossible to keep focused on the struggle, on winning, when George is kissing him.

Hands find his wrists, and he's pressed on his back into the couch. The way fingers drag over the pulse in his wrists is sensual, and he's not really fighting to try and take back what he's lost. He's wide-eyed, breathless and trembling as he arches into the contact, the way their bodies are pressed close, hip to hip, and Ron's achingly hard in his denims.

He wants this. He really only vaguely knows what it is, but it feels so good. New and unexpected, pleasure that sparks in his veins and over his skin, and he leans up a little to stubbornly try and catch George's lips in another kiss.

[weasleykink]

George doesn't let him get another kiss just yet. They're both hard, and he knows what he wants but he also knows that Ron's never done this before, that if he had, he'd know about it, considering the fact that not only had he and Fred gotten a surprisingly prompt update that he'd lost his virginity (with Hermione) but before it had happened, he'd not so subtly tried to get tips. George still rather hopes he didn't buy the so called "tips" he and Fred tried to pass off as genuine assistance to Ron, a bunch of truly bad ideas that, if performed, would have left Hermione madder than hell and taking it out on Ron. Judging by the fact that they'd never heard horror stories, he's got to assume that he was smarter than they'd given him credit for at the time.

"I warned you that you'd pay," he practically coos into Ron's throat as he leans down, evading the kiss but lavishing attention on pulse points, guided by experience but searching out places specific to Ron, trying to learn what he liked, what he craved, what made the ache in his jeans throb with need to be touched and stripped bare.

He's going to push, because that's what he does, what he's always done. He and Fred, and now just him, taking things too far, ensuring all bets are honored and all losses are thoroughly punished. He'll push, he'll threaten to take, he'll give a taste of what he craves and what Ron barely realizes that he wants, but then he'll stop and ask, talk and be sure it's alright, that it isn't too far, that Ron's comfortable with being pushed past his comfort zone.

Right now pushing comes in the form of one hand fishing its way down between their bodies. With one less arm to hold himself up, he's half-laying heavily atop Ron, nuzzling at his neck and inhaling his warm scent as that hand slips down and cups against his crotch through his jeans. There's no mistaking what he means now. Even if there was before, it's explicit in the slow squeeze of his hand as he palms his younger brother through his clothes, thumb tracing his cock to get a feel for the size of it, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't imagining it in his mouth, to distract him as he prepared to fuck him.

His threat, the coo of retribution is gone as he breathes against the soft, freckled skin of Ron's neck, "I want you…"

[ickleronikins]

Ron had been smart enough to ignore his brothers' so-called 'advice', but not smart enough to get through losing his virginity unscathed. He'd been so terribly awkward, not known what to do with himself, he'd stumbled, been terrible at it, and eventually managed to thrash and knock his elbow into Hermione's eye. It had just gotten worse from there; so horrific he'd been far too embarrassed to tell his brothers, certain they'd have never let him live it down. And sex had never really felt like this before. Desperate, aching, needy. He needs to touch, to feel, needs George to keep touching him like this.

He groans softly at that whisper of retribution that somehow comes out as alluring and sexual as it's whispered against his throat. He squirms, not trying to escape, but simply unable to help himself as attention presses against pulse points, against new, sensitive spots Ron was entirely unaware of. He shivers, shaking, his breath coming in gasps as his head falls back against the arm of the couch.

When George's hand slides down between their bodies, Ron shudders, forgets to breathe, because it's so hot. The way that his brother nuzzles into skin as he cups against Ron's erection through his jeans. There's a soft keening sound from his throat as fingers trace the shape of it through fabric that now feels impossibly tight. That whisper makes him shake, dampens his lashes.

"I want you too," he breathes, hot and shaky as his free hand comes up to catch at the side of George's face. "Is this okay?" He's never been quite as pushy as the twins, and he needs to know, to make sure.