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He found, to his surprise, that he liked sleeping with muggles.
With muggles, he wasn't a Weasley. Or, well, he was -- it's not like Fred lied about his name, too many troubles, he'd probably forget his alias halfway through -- but the muggles didn't have any connotations connected with "Weasley". Not that Fred didn't love being a Weasley, didn't love being such a naturally integral part of the wizarding community. But sometimes it became a little old, how desperately well known he was, not only for his own history of prants and jokes, but for that of a dozen generations past. Here, it was just a name, although perhaps a funny one they could joke about. And he wasn't a twin, unless he mentioned it, and he wasn't even expected to be funny and on all the time, although he still was, since that was only natural.
He definitely wasn't expected to be straight.
Fred had always kind of assumed that Percy would come out before he was forced to, but to his surprise Percy never did. Maybe his older brother was actually as straight as he seemed determined to insist, but Fred had always been as sure of Percy's natural queerosity as he had been of his own. Odd, that.
Not that Fred's come out of the closet. He told George, and that experience was awful enough that he's considered keeping it on the low-down for the rest of his natural existence. (Which explains, now that he thinks about it, why it seems so much easier to discuss now that he's come out the other side.) It's not as if he would ever get married or even be in a long, serious relationship that he would be compelled to tell Mum about. Gays didn't do that, at least not from Fred's experience, and that was alright. George seemed inclined toward girls and marriage and all that came with that set-up, so Fred felt comfortable inthat he'd be able to steal those little ratlings once in a while, if he ever got the urge to surround himself with next-generation Weasley spawn.
Anyway. Muggles were great for a night or two of sex.
This particular one had dark skin -- his father was from Pakistan, that's right -- and darker, curly hair that Fred currently had his fingers wound around, both their pants pooled around their knees and ankles, the muggle on said knees, focusing all his attention on Fred's swollen, sensitive cock and balls.
Muggles were fantastic.
Muggle culture didn't seem to be any more accepting of this oh-so deviant lifestyle than wizarding, but muggle gays just didn't seem to give a fuck. Or, rather, they gave a lot of fucks. Quite liberally and quite well. Maybe because wizards were still stuck in the eighteen hundreds, in clothes, mannerisms and culture, so that while neither group welcomed homosexuals with open arms, at least the muggle culture didn't outright shun and attack such members.
It was easy enough to locate and identify those so inclined within the wizarding community, sure, and it's not as if Fred had lacked for exuberant male attention while at Hogwarts, but while those trysts had been characterized by fumbling hands and worried pants, this -- his near half dozen experiences with muggle men were filled with shouts and cries and flavored lubrication. Fred hadn't, yet, suggested to George that they carry such products in the store, in a back room or some such, but he was tempted. Oh, how they could improve these commonalities with a simple dose of magic...!
Fred still remembered fondly the eight week period in his fifth year at Hogwarts that had been stuffed to the brim, quite literally, with Terrence Higgs. Higgs had been unimaginably enthusiastic; while they had never spoken of the issue, Fred believed Higgs hadn't even known it was a viable option, being with men, and as such had latched onto the opportunity -- and Fred's dick -- with almost alarming interest.
This, though, this Indian muggle humming what Fred thought was some tune called "God Save the Queen" whilst performing some twists with his tongue that Fred would have previously said completely impossible -- Higgs and the others hadn't a whit what they were doing, not even when Fred tried to show by example all the various techniques he had picked up and meshed together in what he liked to think was quite the impressive amalgation.
The only real drawback to sleeping with muggles was the inability to clean themselves off afterwards with a wave of a wand, leaving their clothes, hands and stomaches sticky and stiff. The Indian man did an admirable job of cleaning Fred off afterwards, a favor Fred later returned with relish, but it still wasn't the same.
Maybe that was alright, though. Not being able to use magic -- at least not right away, not while the man was still pressed against the tiled wall of the dim bathroom stall they were using -- made Fred seem more truly a muggle, more honestly false. And maybe it wouldn't be that horrible to leave all that behind, to join the anonymous masses, to forego the forbidding labryinth of the magical world. Maybe it'd be nice to forever pretend something, to prolong this feeling of warm companionship.
Or maybe he would kiss the Indian one last time, messily and long, wait for him to leave and for the bathroom to empty. Maybe Fred would apparate home to the flat, where George would avoid looking at him, where Fred would fall asleep and then wake up ready for another long day at the shop, where he wouldn't have to disclose anything, where George and he would be too busy to talk. Where they'd be brothers again, where Fred could be himself as long as he wasn't too much of that, where they'd be Weasleys.
With muggles, he wasn't a Weasley. Or, well, he was -- it's not like Fred lied about his name, too many troubles, he'd probably forget his alias halfway through -- but the muggles didn't have any connotations connected with "Weasley". Not that Fred didn't love being a Weasley, didn't love being such a naturally integral part of the wizarding community. But sometimes it became a little old, how desperately well known he was, not only for his own history of prants and jokes, but for that of a dozen generations past. Here, it was just a name, although perhaps a funny one they could joke about. And he wasn't a twin, unless he mentioned it, and he wasn't even expected to be funny and on all the time, although he still was, since that was only natural.
He definitely wasn't expected to be straight.
Fred had always kind of assumed that Percy would come out before he was forced to, but to his surprise Percy never did. Maybe his older brother was actually as straight as he seemed determined to insist, but Fred had always been as sure of Percy's natural queerosity as he had been of his own. Odd, that.
Not that Fred's come out of the closet. He told George, and that experience was awful enough that he's considered keeping it on the low-down for the rest of his natural existence. (Which explains, now that he thinks about it, why it seems so much easier to discuss now that he's come out the other side.) It's not as if he would ever get married or even be in a long, serious relationship that he would be compelled to tell Mum about. Gays didn't do that, at least not from Fred's experience, and that was alright. George seemed inclined toward girls and marriage and all that came with that set-up, so Fred felt comfortable inthat he'd be able to steal those little ratlings once in a while, if he ever got the urge to surround himself with next-generation Weasley spawn.
Anyway. Muggles were great for a night or two of sex.
This particular one had dark skin -- his father was from Pakistan, that's right -- and darker, curly hair that Fred currently had his fingers wound around, both their pants pooled around their knees and ankles, the muggle on said knees, focusing all his attention on Fred's swollen, sensitive cock and balls.
Muggles were fantastic.
Muggle culture didn't seem to be any more accepting of this oh-so deviant lifestyle than wizarding, but muggle gays just didn't seem to give a fuck. Or, rather, they gave a lot of fucks. Quite liberally and quite well. Maybe because wizards were still stuck in the eighteen hundreds, in clothes, mannerisms and culture, so that while neither group welcomed homosexuals with open arms, at least the muggle culture didn't outright shun and attack such members.
It was easy enough to locate and identify those so inclined within the wizarding community, sure, and it's not as if Fred had lacked for exuberant male attention while at Hogwarts, but while those trysts had been characterized by fumbling hands and worried pants, this -- his near half dozen experiences with muggle men were filled with shouts and cries and flavored lubrication. Fred hadn't, yet, suggested to George that they carry such products in the store, in a back room or some such, but he was tempted. Oh, how they could improve these commonalities with a simple dose of magic...!
Fred still remembered fondly the eight week period in his fifth year at Hogwarts that had been stuffed to the brim, quite literally, with Terrence Higgs. Higgs had been unimaginably enthusiastic; while they had never spoken of the issue, Fred believed Higgs hadn't even known it was a viable option, being with men, and as such had latched onto the opportunity -- and Fred's dick -- with almost alarming interest.
This, though, this Indian muggle humming what Fred thought was some tune called "God Save the Queen" whilst performing some twists with his tongue that Fred would have previously said completely impossible -- Higgs and the others hadn't a whit what they were doing, not even when Fred tried to show by example all the various techniques he had picked up and meshed together in what he liked to think was quite the impressive amalgation.
The only real drawback to sleeping with muggles was the inability to clean themselves off afterwards with a wave of a wand, leaving their clothes, hands and stomaches sticky and stiff. The Indian man did an admirable job of cleaning Fred off afterwards, a favor Fred later returned with relish, but it still wasn't the same.
Maybe that was alright, though. Not being able to use magic -- at least not right away, not while the man was still pressed against the tiled wall of the dim bathroom stall they were using -- made Fred seem more truly a muggle, more honestly false. And maybe it wouldn't be that horrible to leave all that behind, to join the anonymous masses, to forego the forbidding labryinth of the magical world. Maybe it'd be nice to forever pretend something, to prolong this feeling of warm companionship.
Or maybe he would kiss the Indian one last time, messily and long, wait for him to leave and for the bathroom to empty. Maybe Fred would apparate home to the flat, where George would avoid looking at him, where Fred would fall asleep and then wake up ready for another long day at the shop, where he wouldn't have to disclose anything, where George and he would be too busy to talk. Where they'd be brothers again, where Fred could be himself as long as he wasn't too much of that, where they'd be Weasleys.