Fic: 'Reparation' Draco/Fred/George, NC17
Title: Reparation
Author: softly_sweetly
Betas: nolagal and snarkyscorp
Rating NC17
Featured Character or Pairing(s): Fred/George/Draco
Summary: Forced into a life of servitude to repay his war crimes, Draco is helpless at the hands of Fred and George. Still, anything that they can throw at him is still better than life in Azkaban.
Warnings: EWE, Dub-Con, Incest, Forced Oral, Power-Play, Spanking, Slightly AU (as Fred survived), and dubious use of Devil's Snare :)
Word Count: 2,850
Disclaimer:I don't own them, and I don't profit from them.
Author's/Artist's notes: Written for hereticalvision in the 2009 Weasley_fest. Counts to prompt #6 Distrust of my mission_insane Genre Table: Hurt/Comfort
Reparation. The word echoed in the air, plaguing Draco's thoughts no matter how hard he tried to block it out. The dues he had to pay, an impossible amount, for bringing the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. The seizure of everything the Malfoy family owned ensured there was no money to pay for a lawyer, and the Wizengamot-appointed one had lost a son to Lucius, and clearly wanted Draco dead. He had allowed the Wizengamot to charge Draco with what was, in essence, the crime of starting the War and causing the fall of Hogwarts. If Draco hadn't got the Death Eaters in, they might not have taken Hogwarts. The War might have ended a different way.
And so Draco had been thrown back in Azkaban, where the walls whispered to his heartache and the air was heavy with the taste of fear and despair, and told he would rot there until someone claimed him, until someone needed the labour and he was sent out to work and repay society.
Within two days of being sentenced, Draco was marched back out of Azkaban. He could barely wait to escape the prison, and would take whatever this work was if it meant he didn't have to spend another night listening to his father's mind snap in the cell next door.
Stepping out into the bright, cold sunlight, Draco brought his hand up to shield his face and stared around. He couldn't have missed them if he tried. Perfectly identical, right down to the garish magenta robes they wore. And from the smirks on their faces as they signed the papers releasing Draco into their care, Draco knew Fred and George planned to get reparations for more than the crimes he had been sentenced for.
Draco's wand had been snapped, so he had the humiliation of having to hold onto Fred - or it might have been George - and Side-Along with him. Draco wasn't surprised when they touched down in Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, but he was surprised to find the place empty.
Much as it had hurt his pride, Draco had already rehearsed his speech. The terms of his sentencing were simple; he would serve sixty years in Azkaban unless someone employed him. He was bound to that person for ten years, handing over the majority of his wages to the Ministry. If his boss fired him, he had a period of a month to find a new job before he would be carted back to Azkaban to last out the remainder of his sentence. So he knew that he had to keep his employers sweet. "I'll work hard, and keep my head down, and..."
A pale, freckled hand slapped down across his cheek, and Draco recoiled in horror. Bringing his hand to his smarting cheek, Draco stared in shock at the twin who had just hit him.
"You speak when we tell you to. All those years of snide remarks, all those times you said we were unnatural," The twin paused for dramatic effect, a smirk spreading across his lips. "Well, you were right. And as soon as George and I found out your pretty little arse was up for grabs, we started on the paperwork to make you ours straight away."
Draco looked up when he heard the other twin step forward. This was George, and Draco noticed the missing ear. Good, that would make telling them apart a lot easier.
"So get up, and show us what we've bought."
"I... what?"
George laughed, the sound echoing around the empty shop. "I said, show us what we've bought. God, even for an inbred like you, Malfoy, you're being thick."
Draco had a sinking feeling, and he took an involuntary step back. "I'm here to work and..."
George cut in, talking over Draco. "No, you're here to do whatever we want. Come on, Malfoy, don't be thick. Ask yourself why it's only the pretty young Death Eaters who have been offered employment. Ask yourself why the older ones, the ones whose looks are fading, haven't been picked. Ask yourself what anyone could want with a delicate little thing like you?"
Draco shook his head, but defeat was already setting in. "You can't."
"Says who? You're ours, Malfoy. We own you." As if to prove the point, Fred took the contract of employment form his pocket and waved it at Draco.
"So, why don't you take off your clothes, and show us what we've bought?" There was more of a threat in George's voice this time; he wouldn't stand being disobeyed much more.
Looking between the twins, Draco tried to work out how he could get out of this. He didn't want to accept the crushing realisation that he had no choice, no way out except returning to Azkaban. And he would not - no, he could not - do that. It would kill him. Surely even the twins were better than rotting to death in that hellhole. Lifting his head up, Draco went for one more line of defence, one more attempt to avoid the threats that were hanging so implicitly in the air. "What does it say about you, to resort to rape to get laid?"
To Draco's surprise, both Fred and George laughed. It was Fred who answered, confidence and ease in his voice. "Believe me, you'll consent to everything. It's that, or the express Port-Key back to Azkaban."
Draco's attention was taken from Fred as George moved, pulling an old scarf from one of his pockets and laying it down on a shelf behind the counter. It took pride of place, and Draco knew it would be kept there to remind him, to keep him in check. It worked, beautifully. Holding his head up high, Draco made the choice to do everything asked of him, last out his time, and then just never think of the twins again.
As he started undoing the buttons on his robes, Draco heard George laugh quietly, and whisper to Fred, "Forget consent, we'll have him begging in weeks."
-+-+-+-
Draco grabbed a hold of the counter, exhaling sharply and trying to refocus his eyes. Credit where it was due; they were inventive with their torment. He'd had the vibrating toy inside him all day, both of them with controllers, both of them turning it up whenever a customer asked him a question, or he was doing a task that needed concentration. Draco's fingers pressed into the hard wood of the shelf, trying to anchor him as the vibrations washed over his body. He didn't want to be aroused by this, didn't want to be so close to orgasm already.
But the vibrations didn't let up, only got stronger as they stimulated his prostate, making his cock leak into the cotton boxers the twins insisted he wore. Draco's cheeks coloured up in humiliation as his body eventually betrayed him, his arms jerking out uncontrollably as he came hard. The crash of a dozen little bottles - that he'd been putting out, making sure they were all in line and faced the right way - masked his swearing. If the twins heard him swearing, they paddled his arse hard enough that he couldn't sit down for a day.
"Look at this, George."
"I know. We give him one simple task to do, and Malfoy manages to balls it up. And now we're down twelve bottles of skin colouring potion. That'll be coming out of your wages, Malfoy."
Draco said nothing, still trying to catch his breath from his orgasm. At least the toy had stopped buzzing, and he had some respite for a minute or two. Slowly straightening up, Draco eyed the broken bottles balefully, stepping back so that none of the spilled potion got on his shoes. It was a nasty little potion - you slipped it into someone's drink and it turned their skin any number of colours. Draco had been the test subject for that, and had been forced to spend weeks being each colour under the sun.
Still, it was better than Azkaban.
"I don't think lost wages will bother Malfoy, George. I think we need a more tangible punishment, so that he doesn't damage our stock again."
Fred's words could mean anything, and Draco had to make a conscious effort to stop his mind racing. Anything was better than Azkaban.
"Well, it definitely means he needs to take his clothes off. Dirty little boy, messing up his boxers like that."
Draco knew the drill; the six months he had been here had taught him to listen for the unspoken commands and obey them. That way, he could fool himself that he had a choice in this, and the humiliation wasn't as high. Stripping off his clothes, he didn't worry about the fact he was naked and they were both still clothed.
"Come over here, Malfoy."
Draco knew he was walking into a trap, but he walked all the same. They baby Devil's Snare that the twins sold - and that they had uncovered as soon as the last customer had left, just to make Draco's work a bit more difficult - jumped out at him, capturing his wrists and yanking him forwards sharply. Draco doubted it was acting of its own accord. Pulling him over the display table it grew on, the Devil's Snare wrapped tightly around his waist and his ankles. One solitary strand wrapped around his neck, not tight enough to obstruct his breathing, but tight enough that he could feel it against his skin, cold and a little slimy.
"What do you think, George? Twelve hits, as he broke twelve bottles?"
"That seems fair, Fred. And we're nothing if not fair. But we're both very bad at maths, so perhaps Malfoy should count them out for us?"
That was a question directed at him, and Draco answered it as he had been told to. "Yes, Mr Weasley, Sir."
As soon as he'd finished speaking, the first hit landed on his arse, making stinging pain explode over his left buttock. They must be in a particularly intimate mood tonight - that was a hand, and not their preferred paddle. Or worse, the crop. Draco could take hand spanking, easily. Once upon a time, he'd even enjoyed it. Not that he'd ever let them know that. "One, Sir."
The next three rained down one after the other, and it had to be both of them going to work on him, because no one could deliver spankings that quickly alone. "Two, three, four, Sirs."
One or other of them moaned, and a long finger ghosted along Draco's cleft. It made him tremble in his bonds, and Draco cursed his own body for betraying him again, and stirring up arousal in his belly. Still, if he were aroused, it would be easier right now. Later would be harder, when he stared up at the ceiling as sleep evaded him and wondered whether he really hated this set-up as much as he told himself, whether it could have been worse, and he could have ended up in Azkaban, never to have another orgasm again.
Another two slaps, coming within a split-second of each other, brought Draco out of his thoughts. "Five, six, Sirs."
The rest of the spanks passed in a blur, making Draco's arse sting hotly, and his cock twitch against the Devil's Snare. As he counted out number twelve, a tendril snaked around his cock and balls, a tight figure of eight that made him cry out. That was definitely one of the twins' doings.
"Can't have you coming too soon, Malfoy, we know how much you enjoy being our little slut." Fred's whispered words confirmed Draco's suspicions, and alluded to what was to come.
From his positioning, Draco could guess where this was going, but the two tendrils of Devil's Snare that snaked into his mouth were still a surprise. They curled possessively around his head, pulling his jaw wide open. Draco thrashed as best he could, but he couldn't shake free of their grip.
Hands on his arse made him forget the inventive gag temporarily, and Draco groaned, the sound guttural, as his arse was spread. Surely they wouldn't...
Draco yelled, his words distorted by his forced-open jaw, as he was penetrated roughly. The lube that had been used on the toy was by now practically non-existent, and the toy had been nowhere near big enough to prepare him for a cock. The penetration was rough and harsh, breaching his arse quickly and forcing his walls to part. They screamed out their protest, hot pain lancing along his back as one of the twins came to rest inside of him, pointy hips jutting into Draco's arse, the rough material of robes scratching against his skin. To his shame, Draco couldn't stop the hot tears that spilled over his lashes, streaking down his face. He could only hope that they wouldn't be noticed, that both twins would take turns on his arse, and leave him to react in private.
Naturally, his hopes were in vain. George squatted down in front of his face, magenta robes clashing horribly with the arousal reddening his cheeks. His head was strangely asymmetrical without his ear, making him look like he might fall off balance at any moment. Draco squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting to see the smirk on George's face. So that meant Fred we fucking him, slow and lazy, clearly waiting for something else to happen.
George's breath was hot, and smelled faintly of Pepper-Up potion. His tongue was warm and wet when it stroked up Draco's cheek, catching the salty tears as George moaned happily. "Who are you trying to fool, Malfoy? We know you love getting fucked by us. I bet you dream of having all your dirty little fantasies satisfied by us."
The fact that sometimes Draco did, sometimes his dreams featured him actively choosing this, caused him to wake up in sticky sheets and hot with shame, made Draco whimper softly. But George said nothing else; instead he stood up and undid his trousers. Draco tried again to close his mouth, but the Devil's Snare was strong. He had no way to defend himself from the hard cock heading towards him. Which was probably lucky; Draco didn't know if he'd bite it off or suck it all the harder.
As soon as George's cock slid into his mouth, Fred started thrusting properly; fast, deep thrusts that made Draco's entire body shake in the Devil's Snare. George fucked his mouth just as enthusiastically, ignoring the choking noises escaping Draco's mouth to fuck his throat roughly. The Devil's Snare twined around his cock was pulsating slowly, not allowing Draco any respite, but ramping up his arousal. Draco kept his eyes closed, letting his imagination tell his body that he wanted this, letting his imagination create a set of circumstances that could allow him to enjoy this. It wasn't a hard thing to do.
George's hand was tight in his hair, holding his head still as though Draco would have been able to move it any way. Time ceased to hold meaning, there was nothing really registering with Draco except the harsh thrusts in and out of both ends of his body.
"Fuck, I'm done," George must have been talking to Fred, because it made no difference to Draco either way. George slid his cock out of Draco's mouth, and Draco cracked his eyes open to see George stroking it with his free hand quickly. Draco knew what was coming, and he squeezed his eyes closed again. A second later, hot spurts hit his face, covering his cheeks and his lips as George grunted. When Fred pulled free of Draco's arse, Draco wondered if Fred were coming around to do the same; this was one of their favourite ways of humiliating Draco, reminding him of his place, and the lows he would stoop to, just to stay out of Azkaban.
But then Draco felt hot wetness spilling over his arse and lower back, and could let himself relax a little. When they were both finished, all Draco could hear was their panting, and his own blood rushing in his ears.
"Shall we let him go?"
"Nah. We can always use him later. Besides, I want to see how long he can lie there with his cock all hard and trussed up before he's begging us to come and fuck him again."
As if responding to George's words, the Devil's Snare slid from around his head, allowing Draco to open and close his mouth, trying to work out the stiffness there. His pride told him Hell would freeze over before he called for them, but his bound cock told him it was only a matter of time. Then Fred slipped the vibrating toy back into Draco's arse, setting it off at a low hum, and Draco knew he'd have broken before they had even finished cleaning up.
Still, as he listened to them walking into the back office and up the stairs to the flat above the shop, Draco knew that this was infinitely better than life in Azkaban.
Author: softly_sweetly
Betas: nolagal and snarkyscorp
Rating NC17
Featured Character or Pairing(s): Fred/George/Draco
Summary: Forced into a life of servitude to repay his war crimes, Draco is helpless at the hands of Fred and George. Still, anything that they can throw at him is still better than life in Azkaban.
Warnings: EWE, Dub-Con, Incest, Forced Oral, Power-Play, Spanking, Slightly AU (as Fred survived), and dubious use of Devil's Snare :)
Word Count: 2,850
Disclaimer:I don't own them, and I don't profit from them.
Author's/Artist's notes: Written for hereticalvision in the 2009 Weasley_fest. Counts to prompt #6 Distrust of my mission_insane Genre Table: Hurt/Comfort
Reparation. The word echoed in the air, plaguing Draco's thoughts no matter how hard he tried to block it out. The dues he had to pay, an impossible amount, for bringing the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. The seizure of everything the Malfoy family owned ensured there was no money to pay for a lawyer, and the Wizengamot-appointed one had lost a son to Lucius, and clearly wanted Draco dead. He had allowed the Wizengamot to charge Draco with what was, in essence, the crime of starting the War and causing the fall of Hogwarts. If Draco hadn't got the Death Eaters in, they might not have taken Hogwarts. The War might have ended a different way.
And so Draco had been thrown back in Azkaban, where the walls whispered to his heartache and the air was heavy with the taste of fear and despair, and told he would rot there until someone claimed him, until someone needed the labour and he was sent out to work and repay society.
Within two days of being sentenced, Draco was marched back out of Azkaban. He could barely wait to escape the prison, and would take whatever this work was if it meant he didn't have to spend another night listening to his father's mind snap in the cell next door.
Stepping out into the bright, cold sunlight, Draco brought his hand up to shield his face and stared around. He couldn't have missed them if he tried. Perfectly identical, right down to the garish magenta robes they wore. And from the smirks on their faces as they signed the papers releasing Draco into their care, Draco knew Fred and George planned to get reparations for more than the crimes he had been sentenced for.
Draco's wand had been snapped, so he had the humiliation of having to hold onto Fred - or it might have been George - and Side-Along with him. Draco wasn't surprised when they touched down in Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, but he was surprised to find the place empty.
Much as it had hurt his pride, Draco had already rehearsed his speech. The terms of his sentencing were simple; he would serve sixty years in Azkaban unless someone employed him. He was bound to that person for ten years, handing over the majority of his wages to the Ministry. If his boss fired him, he had a period of a month to find a new job before he would be carted back to Azkaban to last out the remainder of his sentence. So he knew that he had to keep his employers sweet. "I'll work hard, and keep my head down, and..."
A pale, freckled hand slapped down across his cheek, and Draco recoiled in horror. Bringing his hand to his smarting cheek, Draco stared in shock at the twin who had just hit him.
"You speak when we tell you to. All those years of snide remarks, all those times you said we were unnatural," The twin paused for dramatic effect, a smirk spreading across his lips. "Well, you were right. And as soon as George and I found out your pretty little arse was up for grabs, we started on the paperwork to make you ours straight away."
Draco looked up when he heard the other twin step forward. This was George, and Draco noticed the missing ear. Good, that would make telling them apart a lot easier.
"So get up, and show us what we've bought."
"I... what?"
George laughed, the sound echoing around the empty shop. "I said, show us what we've bought. God, even for an inbred like you, Malfoy, you're being thick."
Draco had a sinking feeling, and he took an involuntary step back. "I'm here to work and..."
George cut in, talking over Draco. "No, you're here to do whatever we want. Come on, Malfoy, don't be thick. Ask yourself why it's only the pretty young Death Eaters who have been offered employment. Ask yourself why the older ones, the ones whose looks are fading, haven't been picked. Ask yourself what anyone could want with a delicate little thing like you?"
Draco shook his head, but defeat was already setting in. "You can't."
"Says who? You're ours, Malfoy. We own you." As if to prove the point, Fred took the contract of employment form his pocket and waved it at Draco.
"So, why don't you take off your clothes, and show us what we've bought?" There was more of a threat in George's voice this time; he wouldn't stand being disobeyed much more.
Looking between the twins, Draco tried to work out how he could get out of this. He didn't want to accept the crushing realisation that he had no choice, no way out except returning to Azkaban. And he would not - no, he could not - do that. It would kill him. Surely even the twins were better than rotting to death in that hellhole. Lifting his head up, Draco went for one more line of defence, one more attempt to avoid the threats that were hanging so implicitly in the air. "What does it say about you, to resort to rape to get laid?"
To Draco's surprise, both Fred and George laughed. It was Fred who answered, confidence and ease in his voice. "Believe me, you'll consent to everything. It's that, or the express Port-Key back to Azkaban."
Draco's attention was taken from Fred as George moved, pulling an old scarf from one of his pockets and laying it down on a shelf behind the counter. It took pride of place, and Draco knew it would be kept there to remind him, to keep him in check. It worked, beautifully. Holding his head up high, Draco made the choice to do everything asked of him, last out his time, and then just never think of the twins again.
As he started undoing the buttons on his robes, Draco heard George laugh quietly, and whisper to Fred, "Forget consent, we'll have him begging in weeks."
-+-+-+-
Draco grabbed a hold of the counter, exhaling sharply and trying to refocus his eyes. Credit where it was due; they were inventive with their torment. He'd had the vibrating toy inside him all day, both of them with controllers, both of them turning it up whenever a customer asked him a question, or he was doing a task that needed concentration. Draco's fingers pressed into the hard wood of the shelf, trying to anchor him as the vibrations washed over his body. He didn't want to be aroused by this, didn't want to be so close to orgasm already.
But the vibrations didn't let up, only got stronger as they stimulated his prostate, making his cock leak into the cotton boxers the twins insisted he wore. Draco's cheeks coloured up in humiliation as his body eventually betrayed him, his arms jerking out uncontrollably as he came hard. The crash of a dozen little bottles - that he'd been putting out, making sure they were all in line and faced the right way - masked his swearing. If the twins heard him swearing, they paddled his arse hard enough that he couldn't sit down for a day.
"Look at this, George."
"I know. We give him one simple task to do, and Malfoy manages to balls it up. And now we're down twelve bottles of skin colouring potion. That'll be coming out of your wages, Malfoy."
Draco said nothing, still trying to catch his breath from his orgasm. At least the toy had stopped buzzing, and he had some respite for a minute or two. Slowly straightening up, Draco eyed the broken bottles balefully, stepping back so that none of the spilled potion got on his shoes. It was a nasty little potion - you slipped it into someone's drink and it turned their skin any number of colours. Draco had been the test subject for that, and had been forced to spend weeks being each colour under the sun.
Still, it was better than Azkaban.
"I don't think lost wages will bother Malfoy, George. I think we need a more tangible punishment, so that he doesn't damage our stock again."
Fred's words could mean anything, and Draco had to make a conscious effort to stop his mind racing. Anything was better than Azkaban.
"Well, it definitely means he needs to take his clothes off. Dirty little boy, messing up his boxers like that."
Draco knew the drill; the six months he had been here had taught him to listen for the unspoken commands and obey them. That way, he could fool himself that he had a choice in this, and the humiliation wasn't as high. Stripping off his clothes, he didn't worry about the fact he was naked and they were both still clothed.
"Come over here, Malfoy."
Draco knew he was walking into a trap, but he walked all the same. They baby Devil's Snare that the twins sold - and that they had uncovered as soon as the last customer had left, just to make Draco's work a bit more difficult - jumped out at him, capturing his wrists and yanking him forwards sharply. Draco doubted it was acting of its own accord. Pulling him over the display table it grew on, the Devil's Snare wrapped tightly around his waist and his ankles. One solitary strand wrapped around his neck, not tight enough to obstruct his breathing, but tight enough that he could feel it against his skin, cold and a little slimy.
"What do you think, George? Twelve hits, as he broke twelve bottles?"
"That seems fair, Fred. And we're nothing if not fair. But we're both very bad at maths, so perhaps Malfoy should count them out for us?"
That was a question directed at him, and Draco answered it as he had been told to. "Yes, Mr Weasley, Sir."
As soon as he'd finished speaking, the first hit landed on his arse, making stinging pain explode over his left buttock. They must be in a particularly intimate mood tonight - that was a hand, and not their preferred paddle. Or worse, the crop. Draco could take hand spanking, easily. Once upon a time, he'd even enjoyed it. Not that he'd ever let them know that. "One, Sir."
The next three rained down one after the other, and it had to be both of them going to work on him, because no one could deliver spankings that quickly alone. "Two, three, four, Sirs."
One or other of them moaned, and a long finger ghosted along Draco's cleft. It made him tremble in his bonds, and Draco cursed his own body for betraying him again, and stirring up arousal in his belly. Still, if he were aroused, it would be easier right now. Later would be harder, when he stared up at the ceiling as sleep evaded him and wondered whether he really hated this set-up as much as he told himself, whether it could have been worse, and he could have ended up in Azkaban, never to have another orgasm again.
Another two slaps, coming within a split-second of each other, brought Draco out of his thoughts. "Five, six, Sirs."
The rest of the spanks passed in a blur, making Draco's arse sting hotly, and his cock twitch against the Devil's Snare. As he counted out number twelve, a tendril snaked around his cock and balls, a tight figure of eight that made him cry out. That was definitely one of the twins' doings.
"Can't have you coming too soon, Malfoy, we know how much you enjoy being our little slut." Fred's whispered words confirmed Draco's suspicions, and alluded to what was to come.
From his positioning, Draco could guess where this was going, but the two tendrils of Devil's Snare that snaked into his mouth were still a surprise. They curled possessively around his head, pulling his jaw wide open. Draco thrashed as best he could, but he couldn't shake free of their grip.
Hands on his arse made him forget the inventive gag temporarily, and Draco groaned, the sound guttural, as his arse was spread. Surely they wouldn't...
Draco yelled, his words distorted by his forced-open jaw, as he was penetrated roughly. The lube that had been used on the toy was by now practically non-existent, and the toy had been nowhere near big enough to prepare him for a cock. The penetration was rough and harsh, breaching his arse quickly and forcing his walls to part. They screamed out their protest, hot pain lancing along his back as one of the twins came to rest inside of him, pointy hips jutting into Draco's arse, the rough material of robes scratching against his skin. To his shame, Draco couldn't stop the hot tears that spilled over his lashes, streaking down his face. He could only hope that they wouldn't be noticed, that both twins would take turns on his arse, and leave him to react in private.
Naturally, his hopes were in vain. George squatted down in front of his face, magenta robes clashing horribly with the arousal reddening his cheeks. His head was strangely asymmetrical without his ear, making him look like he might fall off balance at any moment. Draco squeezed his eyes closed, not wanting to see the smirk on George's face. So that meant Fred we fucking him, slow and lazy, clearly waiting for something else to happen.
George's breath was hot, and smelled faintly of Pepper-Up potion. His tongue was warm and wet when it stroked up Draco's cheek, catching the salty tears as George moaned happily. "Who are you trying to fool, Malfoy? We know you love getting fucked by us. I bet you dream of having all your dirty little fantasies satisfied by us."
The fact that sometimes Draco did, sometimes his dreams featured him actively choosing this, caused him to wake up in sticky sheets and hot with shame, made Draco whimper softly. But George said nothing else; instead he stood up and undid his trousers. Draco tried again to close his mouth, but the Devil's Snare was strong. He had no way to defend himself from the hard cock heading towards him. Which was probably lucky; Draco didn't know if he'd bite it off or suck it all the harder.
As soon as George's cock slid into his mouth, Fred started thrusting properly; fast, deep thrusts that made Draco's entire body shake in the Devil's Snare. George fucked his mouth just as enthusiastically, ignoring the choking noises escaping Draco's mouth to fuck his throat roughly. The Devil's Snare twined around his cock was pulsating slowly, not allowing Draco any respite, but ramping up his arousal. Draco kept his eyes closed, letting his imagination tell his body that he wanted this, letting his imagination create a set of circumstances that could allow him to enjoy this. It wasn't a hard thing to do.
George's hand was tight in his hair, holding his head still as though Draco would have been able to move it any way. Time ceased to hold meaning, there was nothing really registering with Draco except the harsh thrusts in and out of both ends of his body.
"Fuck, I'm done," George must have been talking to Fred, because it made no difference to Draco either way. George slid his cock out of Draco's mouth, and Draco cracked his eyes open to see George stroking it with his free hand quickly. Draco knew what was coming, and he squeezed his eyes closed again. A second later, hot spurts hit his face, covering his cheeks and his lips as George grunted. When Fred pulled free of Draco's arse, Draco wondered if Fred were coming around to do the same; this was one of their favourite ways of humiliating Draco, reminding him of his place, and the lows he would stoop to, just to stay out of Azkaban.
But then Draco felt hot wetness spilling over his arse and lower back, and could let himself relax a little. When they were both finished, all Draco could hear was their panting, and his own blood rushing in his ears.
"Shall we let him go?"
"Nah. We can always use him later. Besides, I want to see how long he can lie there with his cock all hard and trussed up before he's begging us to come and fuck him again."
As if responding to George's words, the Devil's Snare slid from around his head, allowing Draco to open and close his mouth, trying to work out the stiffness there. His pride told him Hell would freeze over before he called for them, but his bound cock told him it was only a matter of time. Then Fred slipped the vibrating toy back into Draco's arse, setting it off at a low hum, and Draco knew he'd have broken before they had even finished cleaning up.
Still, as he listened to them walking into the back office and up the stairs to the flat above the shop, Draco knew that this was infinitely better than life in Azkaban.