by Laura Smith

Fred is straight.

He's known it irrevocably since the day of Lee Jordan's tenth birthday party when he was ten and a half and they were playing truth or dare and George dared Lee's sister Bethany to reach over and touch his penis.

He's known it for as long as that, nearly as long as he's known that George isn't gay or straight or anything with a label, but just that George falls in love with beauty and likes to touch it. He's known that irrevocably as well, ironically enough, since the day of Lee Jordan's tenth birthday party when they were ten and a half and they were playing truth or dare and, to get back at George for the erection Bethany had given him with her tentative touch, he dared Lee to touch George's penis.

He's known these things irrevocably forever now, since they're almost twelve, and, even though he's straight and George probably isn't, neither fact seems to explain why, even though there are two perfectly serviceable beds in their room, they're both crowded into his.

It also doesn't explain why, even though he'd rather be feeling the lush breasts of Bethany Jordan, who is a good two years older than him and therefore developed enough to have lush breasts, he's bare chest to bare chest with his twin brother, both of them silent in the darkness, both of them breathing so loud it's a wonder the entire family isn't knocking at the door wondering if George has slipped Fred a LungBuster he'd picked up at Zonko's.

And there's the matter of his hand, which is tracing George's jaw, including the nick he'd gotten just that morning when he was attempting to shave along with Percy, even though it was perfectly clear that neither of them needed to be near a shiny, sharp blade for a good few years yet.

There's also the very good subject for discussion which is George's hand which, if Fred isn't mistaken, is the very warm object that's been slipped inside his pajamas and wrapped around his cock which, even though Bethany Jordan isn't anywhere in the vicinity, is awfully hard.

George's lips move beneath Fred's fingers, his hand moves over Fred's slick skin. There's sweat in the room, hanging in the air, trapped between them under the sheet. He leans forward and kisses Fred and it's soft and gentle and something like a breeze that just brushes Fred's skin. Well, something like a breeze that makes his hard cock even harder and he can practically feel the moisture seeping out of the slit at the top of his cock where George's hand is headed.

There's a lot of things to consider as George releases him and shucks his pajama pants, the movements echoed by Fred as they're both too hot to be wearing them even though it's a good dozen degrees below freezing outside and the fire down below is probably getting close to being out and they don't have house elves, so they just have to make do with body heat and George is kissing him again and it's warmer than the summer sun on his tongue.

There are things that aren't said by anyone and they both know that this is one of them, and it's really nothing much more than experimenting and how can you grow up with parts you're not sure what to do with without touching them and feeling them and doing all the sorts of things that make them feel good and, if you're as close as Fred and George are, how do you not talk about it and wonder about it and how, on a dark and cold night when everyone's asleep and you're home for the first time after being away at school, do you not finally do something about it?

Fred's fingers move down George's chest and he feels differences that no one else will likely ever know about because, as much as they share everything, they'll never share a lover because George likes things that Fred doesn't like, like chewing gum and Muggle soda pop and the boxy lines of their dad's car, and Fred likes things that George doesn't like, like bad music on the radio that his dad brought home from work and books about swordfights and sleek things like that coach he saw Lucius Malfoy riding in one day. But they also like things that the other likes, like Quidditch and practical jokes and each other, so they'll share a lover in that they're identical, but different.

George's penis has a slight curve to it that his doesn't and it's slightly longer. He adjusts his stroking to it, wondering how something as light and simple as a sheet can be so hot. He stops and George buries his head in the pillow, sucking in air as Fred lets his hand slide down just enough to wrap around George's balls which are starting to feel raspy with hair but for the most part are sleek and smooth and he wonders, despite the fact that he's irrevocably straight, what it would be like to suck on them.

His own cock is smooth and straight, thicker than George's, which he thinks his twin likes, even though he doesn't say or do anything to express such a thought. Although he is sucking on Fred's collarbone as he strokes it. And Fred's actually wondering what he's going to have to do to hide the mark that his twin is going to leave when George stops stroking him, stops sucking on him and just looks at him.

There's a sound outside the door and by the tread of the footstep they know that it's Ron and he's probably sneaking down to the kitchen to the stash of chocolate frogs their mother keeps in the cupboard above the refrigerator, the one she knows they know about, the one she pretends never gets any smaller, because Ron's really her favorite, but he needs to be because Charlie and Bill are too big and Percy's too full of himself and George and Fred have each other.

There's Ginny too, but she's a girl and that means she's got different rules and different emotions, so she doesn't really count when it comes to favorites.

They're still breathing loudly, Fred realizes, and he wonders about the silence until he realizes that George's hand is moving again and he's not stroking Fred's cock, but his balls and he's got them cupped in his hand and he's applying this amazing pressure and it's building until Fred wants to die and he wonders, just for a second, what it would feel like, if it would feel as good if it were a girl, or a boy, or anyone else but the person he trusts the most in the world.

George stops just before it gets dangerous, because he knows Fred as well as Fred knows himself and he knows that his brother is irrevocably straight and sometimes he wonders why Fred lets him climb into bed with him and why he lets him do things like pretend he wants to know what it's like to kiss a girl and Fred will talk with this silly, breathy voice that sounds nothing like a girl and everything like Fred pretending to be a girl, and then George'll wonder what it's like to kiss a boy and Fred'll be rough with him and pin him down to the mattress beneath him and talk all gruff, which is nothing at all like Fred and everything like being kissed by a man.

Fred's penis is thicker than his and George likes it, he decides as he begins stroking it again. Fred's gaze is somewhere far off and George almost smiles because he always knows when Fred's thinking about being with a girl, which is really as it should be because he really is straight, even though he doesn't protest when George wants to kiss him and touch him.

And it's all very innocent, despite the fact that they'll end the night in each other's arms, thrusting against one another until they both come, both of them lost in worlds that aren't about them, but about girls like Bethany Jordan or the other girls they go to school with and boys like Lee or some of the others they go to school with and it's really just like doing it to themselves like the other boys do behind their curtains only with Fred he can see what he looks like when he comes and he can see the faces he makes and knows what it means to be right on the edge because the reflection looking back at him is identical.

But Fred is different, because his freckles are different and the sounds he makes are different and his penis is smooth and thick and not curved at all. It's really very, very straight.

Just like Fred.


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