Manda!Fic - Perpetual Motion (1/1) - Fred Weasley/Katie Bell/George Weasley - Adult
Title: Perpetual Motion (1/1)
Author: Manda, aka silverstardance
Characters: Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Katie Bell
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 1103
Summary: It should come as no surprise that the Weasley twins have trouble keeping still.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just having a bit of fun.
Author's Notes: This was inspired by this picture, spammed at me by Elle, and nominally written for Liz (amazonmink), for the Drabble Meme, though it's not really a drabble (oops). The Katie Bell represented here is a slightly younger version of elle_blessing's Katie of Caliga Ortus fame. (Also a younger Fred of the same setting, and George of our shared imagination.)
Katie was in her favorite place; surrounded by her shinies - her lions. She'd spent a majority of her summer with them, since their shop was in Diagon, not too far from her Papa's pub, and her quidditch schedule was lax until training camp started up.
She'd been pulled - to no one's surprise - into Fred's lap almost immediately they'd entered the small flat above #93, his long legs sprawled beneath her shorter ones as he dropped them both to the sofa, cuddling her against his chest and chuckling at her soft squeak of indignation. An echo of laughter joined the first sounding as George rounded the foot of the sofa and dove -gently- at them, resting his head on Katie's stomach and grinning up at her.
"You ought to be used to us," George began, nuzzling his face into her tee, "by now, Kit," Fred finished, reaching out to tickle Katie's side with one hand and muss George's hair with the other.
Letting her head loll back against Fred's shoulder, trying to twist her head enough to see him properly, Katie countered, "You both like making me squeak too much to let me get used to anything, I think. It would spoil your fun, shiny boys." There was a hint of pout in her voice, though she didn't mind their antics too terribly; certainly not enough to stop keeping company with them over something that ended so pleasantly for her.
George had worked her tee up high enough to give him access to her skin, and was busy dusting kisses across her tummy, making her shiver every so often as the soft brush of his lips caught her in just the right way. They were always touching her, both of them; even now Fred's cheek was pressed to her temple, his hands stroking along her arms, down her sides.
Not all the touches seemed to have a purpose, but she didn't mind that either - it was nice to know they liked having her close, and to think that they might miss her when she was away from them, even though they had each other. The light, idle pets; the inflammatory and deliberate caresses; the half-asleep snuggles as they reached for her and found her there - all of these showed the things they didn't often voice; that she was important, wanted, cared for.
Somewhere in the process of her musing, she'd missed the glance the twins shared along with a smile, and only cottoned on to their plans as they nimbly divested her of her shirt in perfect tandem.
Other invisible, unfathomable cues disjointed their explanation, though she was so used to the dual-voice that she hardly noticed where one's speech left off and the other's began. "It wouldn't spoil/ everything, Kit.../ We do like it, though,/ when you get loud for us./ So we just have to keep you/ on your toes."
As if to illustrate, Fred's big hands closed over her breasts, kneading firmly, and George's tongue darted against her navel, making her eyes fly wide as a startled moan passed Katie's lips, her skin heating instantly with the spark of their stirred desire. The distinctly masculine laughter, its owners inherently pleased with themselves, made her blush even hotter, and she wiggled under the onslaught, knowing it was no use. Two sets of hands, two mouths, were impossible to shake, not that she'd have wanted to, really.
Said hands always, always eluded her following, her eyes, even, and before she could stop writhing in delicious torment enough to breathe fully, she was down to knickers, and George's long fingers were playing with the band of those. His eyes were on her, fingertips toying with the yellow lace, and she could feel Fred's gaze, that soft but piercing blue, as their combined touch paused, briefly. The stillness, watching, waiting, was heavy, nearly more overwhelming than mind-clouding intensity of their caresses, and Katie held motionless, her gaze fixed on the mirror-image one below her.
The rough scrape of teeth at her neck fluttered her eyelids closed, a perfect and no doubt intentional distraction, for as her hands reached up and back to tangle in the silky ginger strands at the back of Fred's neck, a breathlessly whimpered, "Oh! George..." was pulled from her, his lips ghosting across her center a moment before her knickers were whisked away to the ether where clothes went, at least around her shinies.
Fred's warm palm slid down her body, cupping the insistent ache they'd incited and making Katie's hips arch helplessly into his touch. Fingertips slid over her thighs, and she mewed quietly at the gentle pleasure, the sound lost in a gasp as she was thrown into sensation; hands, always, seemingly everywhere, the heat of George's tongue tracing her wetness, the sharp nip and tug of Fred's teeth at her earlobe.
She loved to watch them, their delighted, satisfied grins as they drew gasps and moans, but never managed it for very long no matter how hard she fought, and settled for dropping one hand to thread through George's matched ginger locks, her anchors against the storm they so enjoyed creating. Sharp and sweet, rough and tender, both at once had Katie's senses skittering from one touch to the next, the delicious pressure coiling with each stroke, pinch, nibble until a persistent, pleading keen had taken her voice. "Fred," she begged, rewarded with the clamp of his teeth in her shoulder, jolting her just to the edge of the precipice, "George..."
Sliding his hand from its gentle cradle of Katie's cheek, Fred grazed his fingers over her taut stomach, settling lower, but barely stroking her damp curls. A heated, knowing flicker passed from twin to twin, George laying torturously light kisses against their lover's fevered flesh.
"Please."
Echoed grins, unseen by Katie, answered her cry for mercy; Fred's fingertips circling the electric center of her pleasure as George thrust his tongue within her, an uncountable and unfathomable roaming of hands igniting the whole of the rest of her skin. She was strung tightly between them, her own lights, for what was hours and seconds at once, her entire being alive with white heat, collapsing utterly into their joined embrace, safe - loved.
George's head was a pleasant weight pillowed on her stomach, Fred's arms around her a shelter and blanket, both, and they were still save the mindless brushes of idleness she knew they could no more help than their need to breathe.
Perpetual motion, their hands, the touch of her shinies, and though she would be exhausted later, Katie couldn't manage to mind.
Author: Manda, aka silverstardance
Characters: Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Katie Bell
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 1103
Summary: It should come as no surprise that the Weasley twins have trouble keeping still.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just having a bit of fun.
Author's Notes: This was inspired by this picture, spammed at me by Elle, and nominally written for Liz (amazonmink), for the Drabble Meme, though it's not really a drabble (oops). The Katie Bell represented here is a slightly younger version of elle_blessing's Katie of Caliga Ortus fame. (Also a younger Fred of the same setting, and George of our shared imagination.)
Katie was in her favorite place; surrounded by her shinies - her lions. She'd spent a majority of her summer with them, since their shop was in Diagon, not too far from her Papa's pub, and her quidditch schedule was lax until training camp started up.
She'd been pulled - to no one's surprise - into Fred's lap almost immediately they'd entered the small flat above #93, his long legs sprawled beneath her shorter ones as he dropped them both to the sofa, cuddling her against his chest and chuckling at her soft squeak of indignation. An echo of laughter joined the first sounding as George rounded the foot of the sofa and dove -gently- at them, resting his head on Katie's stomach and grinning up at her.
"You ought to be used to us," George began, nuzzling his face into her tee, "by now, Kit," Fred finished, reaching out to tickle Katie's side with one hand and muss George's hair with the other.
Letting her head loll back against Fred's shoulder, trying to twist her head enough to see him properly, Katie countered, "You both like making me squeak too much to let me get used to anything, I think. It would spoil your fun, shiny boys." There was a hint of pout in her voice, though she didn't mind their antics too terribly; certainly not enough to stop keeping company with them over something that ended so pleasantly for her.
George had worked her tee up high enough to give him access to her skin, and was busy dusting kisses across her tummy, making her shiver every so often as the soft brush of his lips caught her in just the right way. They were always touching her, both of them; even now Fred's cheek was pressed to her temple, his hands stroking along her arms, down her sides.
Not all the touches seemed to have a purpose, but she didn't mind that either - it was nice to know they liked having her close, and to think that they might miss her when she was away from them, even though they had each other. The light, idle pets; the inflammatory and deliberate caresses; the half-asleep snuggles as they reached for her and found her there - all of these showed the things they didn't often voice; that she was important, wanted, cared for.
Somewhere in the process of her musing, she'd missed the glance the twins shared along with a smile, and only cottoned on to their plans as they nimbly divested her of her shirt in perfect tandem.
Other invisible, unfathomable cues disjointed their explanation, though she was so used to the dual-voice that she hardly noticed where one's speech left off and the other's began. "It wouldn't spoil/ everything, Kit.../ We do like it, though,/ when you get loud for us./ So we just have to keep you/ on your toes."
As if to illustrate, Fred's big hands closed over her breasts, kneading firmly, and George's tongue darted against her navel, making her eyes fly wide as a startled moan passed Katie's lips, her skin heating instantly with the spark of their stirred desire. The distinctly masculine laughter, its owners inherently pleased with themselves, made her blush even hotter, and she wiggled under the onslaught, knowing it was no use. Two sets of hands, two mouths, were impossible to shake, not that she'd have wanted to, really.
Said hands always, always eluded her following, her eyes, even, and before she could stop writhing in delicious torment enough to breathe fully, she was down to knickers, and George's long fingers were playing with the band of those. His eyes were on her, fingertips toying with the yellow lace, and she could feel Fred's gaze, that soft but piercing blue, as their combined touch paused, briefly. The stillness, watching, waiting, was heavy, nearly more overwhelming than mind-clouding intensity of their caresses, and Katie held motionless, her gaze fixed on the mirror-image one below her.
The rough scrape of teeth at her neck fluttered her eyelids closed, a perfect and no doubt intentional distraction, for as her hands reached up and back to tangle in the silky ginger strands at the back of Fred's neck, a breathlessly whimpered, "Oh! George..." was pulled from her, his lips ghosting across her center a moment before her knickers were whisked away to the ether where clothes went, at least around her shinies.
Fred's warm palm slid down her body, cupping the insistent ache they'd incited and making Katie's hips arch helplessly into his touch. Fingertips slid over her thighs, and she mewed quietly at the gentle pleasure, the sound lost in a gasp as she was thrown into sensation; hands, always, seemingly everywhere, the heat of George's tongue tracing her wetness, the sharp nip and tug of Fred's teeth at her earlobe.
She loved to watch them, their delighted, satisfied grins as they drew gasps and moans, but never managed it for very long no matter how hard she fought, and settled for dropping one hand to thread through George's matched ginger locks, her anchors against the storm they so enjoyed creating. Sharp and sweet, rough and tender, both at once had Katie's senses skittering from one touch to the next, the delicious pressure coiling with each stroke, pinch, nibble until a persistent, pleading keen had taken her voice. "Fred," she begged, rewarded with the clamp of his teeth in her shoulder, jolting her just to the edge of the precipice, "George..."
Sliding his hand from its gentle cradle of Katie's cheek, Fred grazed his fingers over her taut stomach, settling lower, but barely stroking her damp curls. A heated, knowing flicker passed from twin to twin, George laying torturously light kisses against their lover's fevered flesh.
"Please."
Echoed grins, unseen by Katie, answered her cry for mercy; Fred's fingertips circling the electric center of her pleasure as George thrust his tongue within her, an uncountable and unfathomable roaming of hands igniting the whole of the rest of her skin. She was strung tightly between them, her own lights, for what was hours and seconds at once, her entire being alive with white heat, collapsing utterly into their joined embrace, safe - loved.
George's head was a pleasant weight pillowed on her stomach, Fred's arms around her a shelter and blanket, both, and they were still save the mindless brushes of idleness she knew they could no more help than their need to breathe.
Perpetual motion, their hands, the touch of her shinies, and though she would be exhausted later, Katie couldn't manage to mind.