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Hermione stands at the head of a large bed, naked, feet wide apart, ankles bound to two lengths of silk rope attached to the mattress. Her arms stretch out diagonally, wrapped in leather cuffs that hang from the ceiling. The room is warm, candle sconces lit and flickering in the other dark atmosphere. A bead of sweat forms at her hair line and trickles down her face.
A door opens and shuts to her left and two pairs of feet pad lightly against the bedroom floor. It’s not long before George and Fred stand at the foot of the bed. Both wear grey sweatpants, the fabric hanging low on their hips. They also wear matching grins on their faces.
“Look at her, Fred,” George says to his twin. “Have you ever seen anything so gorgeous?”
Fred flashes a smile at their witch, whose arms tense, causing the chains to clank above her.
“She’s my favourite person to look at,” Fred answers with a wink.
George moves to stand behind Fred, leans his chin down on his bare shoulder. His arm slings across the opposite shoulder, fingers grazing across freckled skin so much like his own. “She’s ready for me, for you. What do you reckon it’ll take for her to come?”
“Our witch? Nothing less than my fingers, your tongue.”
“Hear that, Hermione? Fred here thinks we need to touch you tonight to have you moaning our names. Do you think he’s right?”
Hermione swallows, wonders if the question is a trick, but two pairs of expressive eyes watch her, waiting for an answer. “I… That’s usually…”
“Because you see,” George continues casually, as though Hermione hadn’t spoken. “I think all you need is a little show.”
The chains clang again as Hermione jerks in surprise. No, she thinks, before moaning out a long, drawn-out, “Yes.”
Hermione’s eyes follow George’s hand as it trails down to tug at the drawstring of Fred’s joggers. His hand disappears for a second - but it’s the second when Fred lets out a heavy breath and leans his head back onto his twin’s shoulder. George brings Fred’s cock out, slender fingers wrapped around its girth, thumb swiping over the milky bead on its tip. She knows their hands are similar, has felt all four on her body at once, but she also knows they’re intrinsically different, and wonders how keenly Fred feels the differences.
“Eyes open, brother,” George says with a tease in his voice. “I think she’s affected.”
Fred’s eyes blaze with fire when he looks at Hermione. His hips pump into the tight hold of George’s fist, yet he still somehow manages to speak. “Fuck, Mi, are you wet for us? I can’t wait to lick that pussy of yours, to, to –”
His words jumble until he’s stuttering as George’s hand moves faster over his cock, aided by a lubrication spell. He lifts a hand to wind behind him, wrapping it around George’s neck. He chuckles darkly. “Don’t leave her hanging, Freddie. Tell her what else we plan on doing.”
Between heavy pants and groans, Fred’s words are still low and promising. “Need to fuck her, slide into that wet cunt. You can put that mouth to use on Georgie here.”
“Mm, yes, she does have a wicked tongue,” George moans. He presses the side of his face against his twin’s; together, they stare at Hermione whose body is tight, her muscles straining against her restraints. Her chest heaves as she pants, wanting to go to them, be with them. As if he can hear her thoughts, George gives her a smile that borders on evil. “Freddie here has a perfect mouth, too, Mi. Did you know?”
“Yes,” she growls. “Yes, I know.”
Mouth on Fred’s cheek, George says loudly, “Why don’t you show her how good it is?”
Silently, Fred turns as soon as George releases him from his hold. Dropping to his knees, he takes George’s cock out, and wastes no time in stretching his mouth around it. George curses above him. A hand drifts to the back of Fred’s head, guiding, leading, until Fred’s nose is buried in a thatch of flame-coloured curls.
“Please,” Hermione whimpers. “Let me –”
“Not yet, love,” George cuts her off. “Not. Yet.”
The sound of choking echoes in the room right before Fred pulls away from George, gasping for air. He wraps a hand around the wet dick, leaning down to suck on George’s balls. Their eyes meet, and even from across the room, Hermione can see them speak silently, a unique language that is their own.
“Fuck,” George says aloud. Fred swallows him again, hollows his cheeks out, and sucks. “So fucking good.”
It isn’t long before George lets out an almost feral grunt, coming down Fred’s throat. Almost viciously, George hauls Fred up and fuses their mouths together. It’s a meeting of lips and tongues and teeth that makes Hermione call out their names. They pull back but keep their foreheads together, air passing between them.
Fred’s hand cups the back of George’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Enjoy that, did you?”
“Prat,” George responds. He turns his head slightly to see Hermione twisting. “Think our girl needs us.”
Fred follows his twin’s gaze. He’s the first to move, stepping easily up onto the bed to stand before Hermione. Like with Fred, he slides a hand to the back of her neck, fingers massaging against her hair. “Need something?”
“Yes, you, please ,” she whines. Her breath hitches when Fred’s other hand reaches between her legs.
“Oh, George was right.” He nuzzles her neck, licks the sweat from her skin. “Did you come, Mi? Just from watching us.”
“Yes,” she admits. She rocks her hips back and forth, trying to take his fingers deeper. “I need… I want… I…”
“We know what you need,” George calls to her. “Don’t we, Freddie?”
Once more, Fred lowers himself to his knees, breathes in deeply. He looks up with that wicked smile. “Don’t worry, Mi. We’re just getting started.”