FIC: Stray
Title: Stray
Author: vissy
Pairing: Fred/George/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: incest, bestiality
Summary: Written for the September round of the pornish_pixies Fantasy Fest. pyrite requested harry/fred/george; harry as an animagus, bestiality, threesome, the twins don't know that it's harry at first, they think they've found a stray animal.
The rain was falling loud and vicious in Diagon Alley, but beneath the thunder there was a thin, unhappy whine. George was deaf to the rain, but the cry reached his ears somehow. He listened to it for some time, and said at last, “There’s someone at the door.”
Fred’s hands stilled in his hair, then pushed him down, not ungently, into the bath water. By the time he surfaced, spluttering, Fred was already halfway down the stairs, calling, “Stay there.”
Where would I go, George thought, and he said aloud, “Don’t forget your wand,” although he knew Fred wouldn’t hear him and wasn’t likely to forget anyhow. George scooped soapsuds from his ears and squeezed the water from his hair, but he didn’t get out of the bath, because Fred had told him to stay.
He heard the squeal of the front door, and the shop’s chime ringing out a faint but cheery ‘fee fi fo fum’, then nothing more until there was a scrabble and stomp of feet up the stairs. Fred appeared in the doorway first, then a low, dark shadow behind him, and George’s breath hitched uneasily. “Take a look at this poor fellow,” said Fred, slapping his thigh in encouragement, and the shadow crept forward. “He was sitting out on the doorstep, the sad sausage. Wonder why he chose our place? Any sensible dog’d head for the Cauldron for tea and sympathy.”
“So you invited a mad dog in,” said George. He could understand why; despite a wet and unruly appearance, the dog wore the most endearing expression he’d ever seen.
“’Course I did. He’s a dog, not a bloody vampire. And no one should be stuck out on a miserable night like this.”
“Do you think he’s lost, or just a stray?” George held out a hand to the sodden animal, whistled softly, and called, “Here, boy.”
“Dunno. No identification on him. He looks a bit thin to me, but not starved or anything. Maybe he just got separated from his owner in the storm. We can check around tomorrow and see if anyone’s missing him.” The dog sat back on his haunches, watching George with wary, longing eyes. He looked enormous, all long legs and shaggy, black fur with a white blaze between his wiry, worried brows. An Irish wolfhound, perhaps. Hard to tell when he was squelchy and cringing. He didn’t seem much older than a pup - probably end up the size of a small pony by the time he reached full size. “Go on,” said Fred. “Go to George, now. He’s harmless, I promise.”
“Oi, watch who you’re insulting.” The dog padded over to the bath on big, round paws, his toenails clicking across the floorboards, and pressed his nose into the palm of George’s hand. Charmed, George laughed in delight. “Aren’t you lovely?”
“Lovely mess, if you ask me,” said Fred. “Look at these muddy pawprints.” The dog’s ears twitched as if he had been told off, but Fred gave him a pat on the head. “Just in time for a warm bath. Can you get in by yourself or do you want a boost?”
The dog looked up at Fred inquiringly, and then at the bath in some apparent doubt. George moved backwards, and the water sloshed around him. “I could get out...”
“No, you stay put,” said Fred, hefting the dog in his arms with a grunt. George wasn’t surprised to see the dog lie peacefully in Fred’s grasp without struggling; Fred had a way about him. “Bloody hell, he’s heavy - think he’d give you a run for your money. Here, watch your legs, now…no, not you, George, the dog.” The dog settled in with a big, silly smile, his weight causing some of the water to slosh over the sides.
“You could’ve just levitated him in, or lightened him,” said George, trying not to grin at Fred’s reddened cheeks.
“Gotta show off my enormous muscles, don’t I?” said Fred, panting just a little.
“Fred here used to be a Beater, but now he’s just a humble shopkeep,” George told the dog confidingly, and the dog’s smile widened. “Bugger me, look at these teeth. Maybe you’re a vampire after all.” He tucked his knees tight beneath his chin, trying to make room; he was nose to nose with a very large and possibly dangerous animal, but the dog seemed meek enough for all his size. “Hope you don’t have fleas.”
Fred resumed his seat beside the bath. “If he does, I’ll get you a collar.” When George laughed, Fred took his chin and kissed him hard. “Get you one anyhow.”
When Fred released him, George caught his breath and discovered the dog watching with a puzzled expression, his head cocked to one side. “What? Like you’ve never planted one on someone,” he said, giving the dog a scratch behind one ear. He was rewarded with a sharp yelp and a long, sloppy swipe of tongue from his chin to the tip of his nose. “Ah, lay off, you maniac,” he said, laughing as he slung his arms about the dog’s neck. “We’ve only just met.”
“Puppies, puppies,” said Fred, shaking his head, and George wasn’t certain if his tone was amused or admonishing. You’d think he’d be able to tell after so many years. Fred was such a loon most of the time, but it was when he went quiet that a fellow had to be really careful. Fred took the washcloth he’d used on George and started wiping the dog’s muddied legs. George sat back and watched, knowing Fred wouldn’t want his help. The dog stood it patiently enough, offering just one half-hearted snap when Fred was scrubbing high between his back legs; Fred smacked him over the snout with the folded cloth, and the dog dropped his head with a whined apology, his nose a snuffly, wet brand on George’s right knee.
“It’s all right, boy,” George whispered. “You’re all right.” He heard the washcloth hit the water’s surface, and the dog’s plaintive eyebrows started see-sawing when Fred’s arm still reached high beneath him, touching him with bare hands. George watched Fred’s face to make sure he wasn’t paying attention, then ventured a caress of the dog’s quivering whisker pads and slack, rubbery lips. The dog started panting hard, steaming George’s cheeks with anxious, excited breaths. George knew it wasn’t his fingers that caused this response, but he wanted to touch anyhow.
Then Fred looked up and saw what George was up to, and George knew he was close to getting a smack of his own. Instead, Fred pulled the plug, and the water level quickly fell. George crouched in the empty bath, cold and vulnerable, and watched while Fred adjusted the hand shower attachment and rinsed the dog all over with warm water, his fingers raking through the rough fur. George clenched his toes against the porcelain and rocked back and forth a little, his cheek brushing the dog’s muzzle with each pass.
“Sit,” Fred ordered, pressing a stern hand on the dog’s rump, and the dog sat back on his haunches; George could see the long, red cock now from between the dog’s front legs. The dog seemed to notice this too, looking down at himself with an expression of profound canine embarrassment before shuffling about on his hindquarters as if to hide. He stilled only when Fred pulled the hose around him and pulled George’s knees apart roughly to shoot a freezing blast of water at his aching cock and balls, caught for too long between his thighs.
George bore the cold rinse stoically, and was feeling almost comfortable by the time Fred turned off the tap. He waited while Fred fetched a towel, and was almost unbearably aware of the dog’s attention; the dog’s ears were pricked and his nose trembled, and George felt his arms respond in a bubble and shiver of gooseflesh. “You be a good boy for Fred, all right?” he said softly, and then Fred was back at his side and raising him to his feet.
“The dog’s obedient,” Fred said, as he wrapped George in a towel and led him to the fireplace. “How about you? Are you going to be a good boy for me?”
“Aren’t I always?” said George. Despite the fire’s warmth, he was trembling.
“You know what I want. You’ll still be good?” He was rubbing the towel over George’s arms and legs, just like he’d washed the dog. George looked down at the bowed head, so like his own, and knew he’d roll over for anything Fred asked of him.
“Yeah. I’ll be good.” Fred knelt at his feet, drying between his toes with the sort of attention people probably wouldn’t’ve expected of him, but George knew him better than anyone, and hardly knew him at all.
Fred looked up into his face and smiled a strangely sweet smile. They both looked towards the bathroom doorway, through which they could see the dog still sitting in the empty bath and watching them anxiously. Fred whistled and called, “Come!” and the dog scrambled out of the bath in a flurry of wet fur and flailing legs and ran straight to Fred, sitting at his feet just as Fred sat at George’s. The damp towel lay about George’s ankles, but Fred dried the dog off with a quick wave of his wand instead. George smiled at the dog’s wistful sniff at the towel, and Fred petted his clean, wiry coat. “No rubdown for you, I’m afraid. It’d take too long, you hairy mutt, and we have things to do.” The dog raised his ears as if to ask ‘what things?’, and Fred said, “Curious, are you? Me too. Sit, both of you.”
George lowered himself on shaky legs until his arse was planted on the scratchy fireside rug. The dog sat facing him, firelight sparking in his dark, willing eyes. Fred reached between the dog’s legs and rubbed his high, arched belly, and the dog whined a little, ducking his head into the crook of Fred’s neck. The dog’s cock had fled back into its hairy sheath, but George could see the sleek red tip peeking out. “Don’t be shy,” said Fred, massaging the sheath gently. “It’s just a bit of fun. Nothing a big, brave pup like you can’t handle.”
The cock soon emerged again, looking strange in Fred’s coaxing grasp. George’s own cock rose in his lap, wanting to be petted too, and Fred reached for him with his free hand. “Such good boys,” he whispered. “Such lovely, hard cocks. We are going to have fun, aren’t we?”
“Fred,” George muttered, as Fred’s fingers stroked him from base to tip, his thumb circling the cockhead and drawing his foreskin back.
“Ah, ah, I know how you like it,” said Fred, as he squeezed and pulled. “S’just like mine. This fellow, though. He’s a surprise package.” The dog was whimpering without pause now, a pitiful, needy sound; he was trying to sit still as Fred had ordered, but his hindquarters shifted about restlessly, and his tail banged against the rug. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? A nice handjob for a good dog. You deserve a treat, yeah? Opposable thumbs, that’s the trick. Hasn’t anyone ever done this for you, you poor thing? You might want to stay here with us. We’ll treat you right.” The dog let out a short, sharp bark that sounded uncannily like ‘yes!’, and Fred laughed, low and wicked. “Yeah, you’re going to do just what I tell you.”
George trembled at both the laughter and the words, but he couldn’t disobey Fred any more than the dog could, and he knew Fred would make everything all right - he always did. He fucked himself against Fred’s hand, knowing it might be taken away any tick, and felt his arse burn as it rubbed back and forth on the rug.
Sure enough, Fred soon released them both and got to his feet, and two pairs of longing eyes followed him to the kitchenette; the dog made a small ‘aroo?’ sound but George knew better. Fred clattered about, then returned with a frying pan; it was still grotty from their tea of sausages and egg and bacon, since both of them were too bloody lazy to do the washing-up, even using magic. A twist of anticipation curled sickly in George’s belly.
“Stay,” Fred ordered the dog, and he whimpered again, his great front paws kneading at the rug. “George. Come,” Fred said then, patting the sunken seat of their decrepit old couch - a victim of too many bouncing Weasley bums - and George crept forward on all fours, his cock and balls swaying heavily beneath him. When he reached the couch, he looked for permission. “Up,” Fred said, and George crawled onto the couch, gasping as his cock brushed the edge. He steadied himself on hands and knees, his brow resting on the back of the couch and his feet hanging off the side, and waited for Fred.
Fred soon knelt behind him and spread his arse cheeks wide, his fingertips digging hard into his hips. There was a stray piece of foam hanging out of a rip in the couch, and George bit into it, trying not to thrust his arse out like a whore. Fred laughed and held him open with his thumbs, smoothing out the wrinkles with his tongue until George wanted to cry, and they’d hardly begun. “Could you be any more fucking eager for it?” said Fred, and then he whistled, a shock of air against George’s arsehole, and George heard the skitterclick of the dog’s paws as he padded quickly to Fred’s side. George looked behind him and found the dog watching Fred intently, his ears at attention. “Good boy,” said Fred. “Watch close now, all right? This is important.” Fred crouched down again and started eating George out hard and dirty, and George couldn’t look, could only hang his head and pant into the manky couch where Fred had fucked him so many times.
When he thought he couldn’t hold out much longer, when he figured one more swipe and swirl of that tongue was going to send him right the fuck off into oblivion, George felt Fred pull away, and he wailed a protest. Fred smacked him hard for it, a mean blow that caught his balls, and George whispered, “Sorry. Didn’t mean it.”
“Bad dog,” said Fred, smacking him again, and the dog barked excitedly. “Here, shut it with that noise, or I’ll use the Daily Prophet on the both of you.” The dog hushed, and George tried to, though his breath gusted loudly. Fred sat down beside him and smoothed a hand down his spine, a deceptively there-there sort of gesture. When he cocked his head warily to one side, he saw that Fred had the frying pan in his lap and was scooping out the congealed fat with his fingers. “Disgusting. Should do nicely,” said Fred, chucking the pan to one side, and he smeared the grease over George’s balls, into his arse crack, and inside him, his fingers possessive and sure. “Probably don’t need it - dog’s a horny little bastard, and Merlin knows you’ll take anything, George - but a bit of incentive never did anyone any harm. Here, boy,” he ordered, smacking George a third time. “Come and get your nose into this.”
George held his breath, then felt the big, wet nose snuffling behind his balls and all about his arse. “That’s right,” crooned Fred, “that’s a good boy.” The tongue touched George, flat and smooth and elastic, curling carefully around his sack. George imagined all those teeth and tried not to move, but he was on fucking fire here, and as the dog licked at him - so delicate for such a big beast - he arched his back despite himself, presenting as much access as he could. The dog swiped his tongue up George’s arse crack, over and over, and Fred laughed and said, “I trained him well,” like it was the funniest thing in the world, but George could see him stroking himself through his robes.
“Enough,” said Fred at last, and the dog stopped nuzzling abruptly. “No, don’t look at me like that - I’m not taking your toy away. We’re just playing a new game now. Up!” The dog mounted George, who grunted at the sudden weight on his back, feeling panicked as the great paws pressed down on his spine and the nails dug into his skin. “Ah, ah, gently, you clumsy behemoth,” said Fred. “Here, get your feet to either side of him...that’s right, around his middle, a nice big hug...we’re all good friends here. How are you doing, George?”
“He’s...he’s just a bit heavy,” said George, as Fred ruffled a soothing hand through his hair. “But I’m good.”
“Don’t I know it?” Fred said softly. “Spread your knees just a little wider, now. He’s having trouble getting at you.” George shifted a bit, trying to brace himself; the dog was bearing most of his own weight now, but his grasp around George’s waist was strong. George could hear the dog’s desperate whine, could feel the prod of his cock, eager but unsure. Fred was leaning over, holding George wide and leading the dog’s cock to him. The dog jabbed at his arsehole and shoved himself inside in a series of jerky, painful movements. “Fuck. Fuck me,” breathed Fred, and George might’ve laughed hysterically but for the shock of it, the insane reality of a dog’s cock inside him.
The dog kept hunching, and George groaned at the rising pressure. “Something...something’s wrong. Fred. Fred? He’s too big. I can’t take him.”
“Shh, you’re doing fine. That’s his knot you can feel.”
“I don’t know. I feel really stretched. So full. You’re sure it’s all right?”
“Yeah, he’s just got his cock locked inside you so you can’t get away.” Fred rubbed George’s shaking belly, making hushing sounds. “Smart dog. Fuck, you two are beautiful. You’ve no idea.”
George could feel hot dog breath against his neck, and when he moved a little, trying to ease the strain, the dog clamped his teeth at his nape, just hard enough to stay him without breaking the skin. The knot inside was pressed against his prostate, causing an exquisite, inescapable charge with each thrust of the dog’s hindquarters. The dog’s balls kept slapping his own, and he could feel the dog’s come, a steady stream shooting inside him and trickling down his thighs. Fred caught some in his hand and stroked George’s cock with it, then stuck his sticky fingers in George’s mouth. “Taste it. You and dog. Yeah, that’s good. Suck it all off.”
George suckled at Fred’s fingers, hypnotised by the bitter strangeness of it, while the dog kept pounding him from behind. Fred pressed his fingers deep into George’s mouth, testing out his gag reflex, then laughed and sat up on the back of the couch, his knees to either side of George’s head. George nosed at him anxiously, trying to push aside the robes, and Fred took his hair in a tight grip, holding him back while he pulled his own cock out. “Can’t get enough, can you, you tart?” said Fred with a grin, shoving his cock between George’s lips. “Yeah, that’s good. Put that sweet, hot mouth to use.”
Pinned irresistibly at both ends, George couldn’t remember a moment he’d felt both so vulnerable and so safe. He worked Fred’s cock, sucking hard from stem to tip the way Fred liked it, loving the animal sounds he made, as wild as the dog’s. Fred’s fingers were caught in his hair, forcing his head back and forth, and George panted through flared nostrils, trying to drag in enough oxygen. He felt the tension rise, the familiar thrust and arch of Fred’s body, and he grabbed hold of Fred’s ankles before he could fall off the back of the couch. Fred’s cock was a hot, relentless weight on his tongue. “Gonna come, George,” Fred whispered brokenly. “You swallow it all like a good dog. You swallow it all, or I’ll have something to say about it.” Fred’s come spurted against the back of George’s throat, and he swallowed greedily, trying to take it all without choking. It tasted just like his own.
George held Fred’s softening cock in his mouth until Fred touched a tender finger to his cheek, letting him know it was all right to let go. Fred leant over him and pressed a kiss into his hair, then laughed. “The dog’s got his eye on me. Probably thinks I’m trying to nick his bitch. Is he still shooting his load? Fuck, talk about stamina.”
George wasn’t sure if the dog was done or not. He still felt almost unbearably stuffed, but it seemed like the gush of come had stopped, and the dog was no longer hunching. The teeth had been removed from his neck, replaced by a gentler, whuffling nuzzle behind his ear. “I think he knows who’s top dog around here. Can’t tell if he’s finished. How will we know?”
Fred sat back down beside George, touching the joined bodies with careful fingers. “The knot’s still inside you. We’ll have to wait for it to go down, so you’ll be hung up in the meantime.” The dog barked, nosing at George’s armpit as if he was trying to reach beneath. “What’s that, boy? You think we should take care of George? What a fine dog you are. Such manners.”
Fred reached for George’s cock, which was red and rigid with need, but George flinched. “No, don’t make me come, not like this. I don’t want to lose it while he’s inside me. I’ll tear apart.”
The dog whined, trying to move away, but he was caught just like George. “Ah, ah,” Fred admonished, “stay there or you’ll hurt him. You don’t want that, do you?”
The dog grumbled his agreement, licking George’s shoulder apologetically, which made George laugh despite the soreness in his body. “Bloody hell, it’s like he understands us. S’weird.”
“Yeah,” Fred said, his tone thoughtful.
George felt the dog tense, then stretch a hind leg up and over his body. “Fuck, what he’s up to?”
Fred stroked his back, now completely free of the dog’s weight. “It’s all right, he’s just turning around. Probably getting tired and restless.”
“Insensitive bastard,” said George, smiling wryly. “And now I’ve got a dog’s bum rubbing against mine. Charming.”
“You love it,” said Fred, pinching his arse. “Oi, don’t move, dog. You’ll pull poor George off the couch.”
The dog sighed, and George shook his head. “Fuck, my knees are getting cranky. And this hard-on’s not going anywhere. Fuck. This must be the most bizarre prank you’ve ever involved me in.”
“I’m just waiting for Mum’s head to turn up in the fire.”
George’s eyes widened in panic, and widened even more when the dog started pulling away again. “Don’t say that! And calm down, you bloody mongrel, before you yank my insides out. Fuck.”
Fred went to the dog’s head, staying him with a vehement hand and then a scratch behind the ears. “George, you know I never fuck around when it comes to you. You know that. It’s never a prank when it’s just us, yeah?”
“Just us and a stray dog, huh?” George sighed, eyeing the fireplace with suspicion.
Fred had the dog’s muzzle in a firm grip, holding his face up to the firelight. “I think the dog knows how to keep a secret,” he said at last.
“Hope so,” said George, and then felt actual hope when the knot inside him started unravelling. He shifted forward on his knees, easing up cautiously, and the dog’s cock slipped out of him in a slurp of flesh and semen. George groaned in sheer relief, flopping face-down along the length of the couch and rubbing himself into the cushions. “Clean-up, please,” he said, with a vague gesture of his wand hand.
Fred laughed and spelled most of the mess away. “My command, your wish,” he said, crawling up alongside George. “Here, turn over and let me take care of that.”
George oomphed into the cushions and rolled onto his back, wincing as his sore arse hit a dodgy spring. Fred ducked his head into George’s lap and sucked him off, slowly and sleepily. “Fuck, that’s nice. What a fucking relief. I’m done, all right? You lot have worn me out. No more fucking for a month.”
“A day,” Fred countered, once his mouth was free.
“A week.”
“An hour if you’re not careful,” said Fred, nipping at George’s belly before resting his cheek upon it.
George blinked through drowsy eyes at the dog; he was lying near the couch, his back to them. “Hey, the dog’s not watching us,” he said, as he reached a hand down to pet him. The dog gave his hand a gentle lick, but didn’t get up.
“Probably feeling as knackered as you are,” Fred muttered.
“Maybe he’s giving us some privacy. Guess he doesn’t know what hit him, poor bugger. We should feel ashamed of ourselves, molesting an innocent dog like that. He’ll know to head for the Cauldron next time.”
“He knows to find friends. But George?” George felt Fred’s chin press into his belly, and when he looked down at his brother, Fred was regarding him with a solemn expression. George noticed for the first time that the storm was over; the room was quiet but for their breathing. “Don’t be surprised if he’s gone in the morning.”
Author: vissy
Pairing: Fred/George/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: incest, bestiality
Summary: Written for the September round of the pornish_pixies Fantasy Fest. pyrite requested harry/fred/george; harry as an animagus, bestiality, threesome, the twins don't know that it's harry at first, they think they've found a stray animal.
The rain was falling loud and vicious in Diagon Alley, but beneath the thunder there was a thin, unhappy whine. George was deaf to the rain, but the cry reached his ears somehow. He listened to it for some time, and said at last, “There’s someone at the door.”
Fred’s hands stilled in his hair, then pushed him down, not ungently, into the bath water. By the time he surfaced, spluttering, Fred was already halfway down the stairs, calling, “Stay there.”
Where would I go, George thought, and he said aloud, “Don’t forget your wand,” although he knew Fred wouldn’t hear him and wasn’t likely to forget anyhow. George scooped soapsuds from his ears and squeezed the water from his hair, but he didn’t get out of the bath, because Fred had told him to stay.
He heard the squeal of the front door, and the shop’s chime ringing out a faint but cheery ‘fee fi fo fum’, then nothing more until there was a scrabble and stomp of feet up the stairs. Fred appeared in the doorway first, then a low, dark shadow behind him, and George’s breath hitched uneasily. “Take a look at this poor fellow,” said Fred, slapping his thigh in encouragement, and the shadow crept forward. “He was sitting out on the doorstep, the sad sausage. Wonder why he chose our place? Any sensible dog’d head for the Cauldron for tea and sympathy.”
“So you invited a mad dog in,” said George. He could understand why; despite a wet and unruly appearance, the dog wore the most endearing expression he’d ever seen.
“’Course I did. He’s a dog, not a bloody vampire. And no one should be stuck out on a miserable night like this.”
“Do you think he’s lost, or just a stray?” George held out a hand to the sodden animal, whistled softly, and called, “Here, boy.”
“Dunno. No identification on him. He looks a bit thin to me, but not starved or anything. Maybe he just got separated from his owner in the storm. We can check around tomorrow and see if anyone’s missing him.” The dog sat back on his haunches, watching George with wary, longing eyes. He looked enormous, all long legs and shaggy, black fur with a white blaze between his wiry, worried brows. An Irish wolfhound, perhaps. Hard to tell when he was squelchy and cringing. He didn’t seem much older than a pup - probably end up the size of a small pony by the time he reached full size. “Go on,” said Fred. “Go to George, now. He’s harmless, I promise.”
“Oi, watch who you’re insulting.” The dog padded over to the bath on big, round paws, his toenails clicking across the floorboards, and pressed his nose into the palm of George’s hand. Charmed, George laughed in delight. “Aren’t you lovely?”
“Lovely mess, if you ask me,” said Fred. “Look at these muddy pawprints.” The dog’s ears twitched as if he had been told off, but Fred gave him a pat on the head. “Just in time for a warm bath. Can you get in by yourself or do you want a boost?”
The dog looked up at Fred inquiringly, and then at the bath in some apparent doubt. George moved backwards, and the water sloshed around him. “I could get out...”
“No, you stay put,” said Fred, hefting the dog in his arms with a grunt. George wasn’t surprised to see the dog lie peacefully in Fred’s grasp without struggling; Fred had a way about him. “Bloody hell, he’s heavy - think he’d give you a run for your money. Here, watch your legs, now…no, not you, George, the dog.” The dog settled in with a big, silly smile, his weight causing some of the water to slosh over the sides.
“You could’ve just levitated him in, or lightened him,” said George, trying not to grin at Fred’s reddened cheeks.
“Gotta show off my enormous muscles, don’t I?” said Fred, panting just a little.
“Fred here used to be a Beater, but now he’s just a humble shopkeep,” George told the dog confidingly, and the dog’s smile widened. “Bugger me, look at these teeth. Maybe you’re a vampire after all.” He tucked his knees tight beneath his chin, trying to make room; he was nose to nose with a very large and possibly dangerous animal, but the dog seemed meek enough for all his size. “Hope you don’t have fleas.”
Fred resumed his seat beside the bath. “If he does, I’ll get you a collar.” When George laughed, Fred took his chin and kissed him hard. “Get you one anyhow.”
When Fred released him, George caught his breath and discovered the dog watching with a puzzled expression, his head cocked to one side. “What? Like you’ve never planted one on someone,” he said, giving the dog a scratch behind one ear. He was rewarded with a sharp yelp and a long, sloppy swipe of tongue from his chin to the tip of his nose. “Ah, lay off, you maniac,” he said, laughing as he slung his arms about the dog’s neck. “We’ve only just met.”
“Puppies, puppies,” said Fred, shaking his head, and George wasn’t certain if his tone was amused or admonishing. You’d think he’d be able to tell after so many years. Fred was such a loon most of the time, but it was when he went quiet that a fellow had to be really careful. Fred took the washcloth he’d used on George and started wiping the dog’s muddied legs. George sat back and watched, knowing Fred wouldn’t want his help. The dog stood it patiently enough, offering just one half-hearted snap when Fred was scrubbing high between his back legs; Fred smacked him over the snout with the folded cloth, and the dog dropped his head with a whined apology, his nose a snuffly, wet brand on George’s right knee.
“It’s all right, boy,” George whispered. “You’re all right.” He heard the washcloth hit the water’s surface, and the dog’s plaintive eyebrows started see-sawing when Fred’s arm still reached high beneath him, touching him with bare hands. George watched Fred’s face to make sure he wasn’t paying attention, then ventured a caress of the dog’s quivering whisker pads and slack, rubbery lips. The dog started panting hard, steaming George’s cheeks with anxious, excited breaths. George knew it wasn’t his fingers that caused this response, but he wanted to touch anyhow.
Then Fred looked up and saw what George was up to, and George knew he was close to getting a smack of his own. Instead, Fred pulled the plug, and the water level quickly fell. George crouched in the empty bath, cold and vulnerable, and watched while Fred adjusted the hand shower attachment and rinsed the dog all over with warm water, his fingers raking through the rough fur. George clenched his toes against the porcelain and rocked back and forth a little, his cheek brushing the dog’s muzzle with each pass.
“Sit,” Fred ordered, pressing a stern hand on the dog’s rump, and the dog sat back on his haunches; George could see the long, red cock now from between the dog’s front legs. The dog seemed to notice this too, looking down at himself with an expression of profound canine embarrassment before shuffling about on his hindquarters as if to hide. He stilled only when Fred pulled the hose around him and pulled George’s knees apart roughly to shoot a freezing blast of water at his aching cock and balls, caught for too long between his thighs.
George bore the cold rinse stoically, and was feeling almost comfortable by the time Fred turned off the tap. He waited while Fred fetched a towel, and was almost unbearably aware of the dog’s attention; the dog’s ears were pricked and his nose trembled, and George felt his arms respond in a bubble and shiver of gooseflesh. “You be a good boy for Fred, all right?” he said softly, and then Fred was back at his side and raising him to his feet.
“The dog’s obedient,” Fred said, as he wrapped George in a towel and led him to the fireplace. “How about you? Are you going to be a good boy for me?”
“Aren’t I always?” said George. Despite the fire’s warmth, he was trembling.
“You know what I want. You’ll still be good?” He was rubbing the towel over George’s arms and legs, just like he’d washed the dog. George looked down at the bowed head, so like his own, and knew he’d roll over for anything Fred asked of him.
“Yeah. I’ll be good.” Fred knelt at his feet, drying between his toes with the sort of attention people probably wouldn’t’ve expected of him, but George knew him better than anyone, and hardly knew him at all.
Fred looked up into his face and smiled a strangely sweet smile. They both looked towards the bathroom doorway, through which they could see the dog still sitting in the empty bath and watching them anxiously. Fred whistled and called, “Come!” and the dog scrambled out of the bath in a flurry of wet fur and flailing legs and ran straight to Fred, sitting at his feet just as Fred sat at George’s. The damp towel lay about George’s ankles, but Fred dried the dog off with a quick wave of his wand instead. George smiled at the dog’s wistful sniff at the towel, and Fred petted his clean, wiry coat. “No rubdown for you, I’m afraid. It’d take too long, you hairy mutt, and we have things to do.” The dog raised his ears as if to ask ‘what things?’, and Fred said, “Curious, are you? Me too. Sit, both of you.”
George lowered himself on shaky legs until his arse was planted on the scratchy fireside rug. The dog sat facing him, firelight sparking in his dark, willing eyes. Fred reached between the dog’s legs and rubbed his high, arched belly, and the dog whined a little, ducking his head into the crook of Fred’s neck. The dog’s cock had fled back into its hairy sheath, but George could see the sleek red tip peeking out. “Don’t be shy,” said Fred, massaging the sheath gently. “It’s just a bit of fun. Nothing a big, brave pup like you can’t handle.”
The cock soon emerged again, looking strange in Fred’s coaxing grasp. George’s own cock rose in his lap, wanting to be petted too, and Fred reached for him with his free hand. “Such good boys,” he whispered. “Such lovely, hard cocks. We are going to have fun, aren’t we?”
“Fred,” George muttered, as Fred’s fingers stroked him from base to tip, his thumb circling the cockhead and drawing his foreskin back.
“Ah, ah, I know how you like it,” said Fred, as he squeezed and pulled. “S’just like mine. This fellow, though. He’s a surprise package.” The dog was whimpering without pause now, a pitiful, needy sound; he was trying to sit still as Fred had ordered, but his hindquarters shifted about restlessly, and his tail banged against the rug. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? A nice handjob for a good dog. You deserve a treat, yeah? Opposable thumbs, that’s the trick. Hasn’t anyone ever done this for you, you poor thing? You might want to stay here with us. We’ll treat you right.” The dog let out a short, sharp bark that sounded uncannily like ‘yes!’, and Fred laughed, low and wicked. “Yeah, you’re going to do just what I tell you.”
George trembled at both the laughter and the words, but he couldn’t disobey Fred any more than the dog could, and he knew Fred would make everything all right - he always did. He fucked himself against Fred’s hand, knowing it might be taken away any tick, and felt his arse burn as it rubbed back and forth on the rug.
Sure enough, Fred soon released them both and got to his feet, and two pairs of longing eyes followed him to the kitchenette; the dog made a small ‘aroo?’ sound but George knew better. Fred clattered about, then returned with a frying pan; it was still grotty from their tea of sausages and egg and bacon, since both of them were too bloody lazy to do the washing-up, even using magic. A twist of anticipation curled sickly in George’s belly.
“Stay,” Fred ordered the dog, and he whimpered again, his great front paws kneading at the rug. “George. Come,” Fred said then, patting the sunken seat of their decrepit old couch - a victim of too many bouncing Weasley bums - and George crept forward on all fours, his cock and balls swaying heavily beneath him. When he reached the couch, he looked for permission. “Up,” Fred said, and George crawled onto the couch, gasping as his cock brushed the edge. He steadied himself on hands and knees, his brow resting on the back of the couch and his feet hanging off the side, and waited for Fred.
Fred soon knelt behind him and spread his arse cheeks wide, his fingertips digging hard into his hips. There was a stray piece of foam hanging out of a rip in the couch, and George bit into it, trying not to thrust his arse out like a whore. Fred laughed and held him open with his thumbs, smoothing out the wrinkles with his tongue until George wanted to cry, and they’d hardly begun. “Could you be any more fucking eager for it?” said Fred, and then he whistled, a shock of air against George’s arsehole, and George heard the skitterclick of the dog’s paws as he padded quickly to Fred’s side. George looked behind him and found the dog watching Fred intently, his ears at attention. “Good boy,” said Fred. “Watch close now, all right? This is important.” Fred crouched down again and started eating George out hard and dirty, and George couldn’t look, could only hang his head and pant into the manky couch where Fred had fucked him so many times.
When he thought he couldn’t hold out much longer, when he figured one more swipe and swirl of that tongue was going to send him right the fuck off into oblivion, George felt Fred pull away, and he wailed a protest. Fred smacked him hard for it, a mean blow that caught his balls, and George whispered, “Sorry. Didn’t mean it.”
“Bad dog,” said Fred, smacking him again, and the dog barked excitedly. “Here, shut it with that noise, or I’ll use the Daily Prophet on the both of you.” The dog hushed, and George tried to, though his breath gusted loudly. Fred sat down beside him and smoothed a hand down his spine, a deceptively there-there sort of gesture. When he cocked his head warily to one side, he saw that Fred had the frying pan in his lap and was scooping out the congealed fat with his fingers. “Disgusting. Should do nicely,” said Fred, chucking the pan to one side, and he smeared the grease over George’s balls, into his arse crack, and inside him, his fingers possessive and sure. “Probably don’t need it - dog’s a horny little bastard, and Merlin knows you’ll take anything, George - but a bit of incentive never did anyone any harm. Here, boy,” he ordered, smacking George a third time. “Come and get your nose into this.”
George held his breath, then felt the big, wet nose snuffling behind his balls and all about his arse. “That’s right,” crooned Fred, “that’s a good boy.” The tongue touched George, flat and smooth and elastic, curling carefully around his sack. George imagined all those teeth and tried not to move, but he was on fucking fire here, and as the dog licked at him - so delicate for such a big beast - he arched his back despite himself, presenting as much access as he could. The dog swiped his tongue up George’s arse crack, over and over, and Fred laughed and said, “I trained him well,” like it was the funniest thing in the world, but George could see him stroking himself through his robes.
“Enough,” said Fred at last, and the dog stopped nuzzling abruptly. “No, don’t look at me like that - I’m not taking your toy away. We’re just playing a new game now. Up!” The dog mounted George, who grunted at the sudden weight on his back, feeling panicked as the great paws pressed down on his spine and the nails dug into his skin. “Ah, ah, gently, you clumsy behemoth,” said Fred. “Here, get your feet to either side of him...that’s right, around his middle, a nice big hug...we’re all good friends here. How are you doing, George?”
“He’s...he’s just a bit heavy,” said George, as Fred ruffled a soothing hand through his hair. “But I’m good.”
“Don’t I know it?” Fred said softly. “Spread your knees just a little wider, now. He’s having trouble getting at you.” George shifted a bit, trying to brace himself; the dog was bearing most of his own weight now, but his grasp around George’s waist was strong. George could hear the dog’s desperate whine, could feel the prod of his cock, eager but unsure. Fred was leaning over, holding George wide and leading the dog’s cock to him. The dog jabbed at his arsehole and shoved himself inside in a series of jerky, painful movements. “Fuck. Fuck me,” breathed Fred, and George might’ve laughed hysterically but for the shock of it, the insane reality of a dog’s cock inside him.
The dog kept hunching, and George groaned at the rising pressure. “Something...something’s wrong. Fred. Fred? He’s too big. I can’t take him.”
“Shh, you’re doing fine. That’s his knot you can feel.”
“I don’t know. I feel really stretched. So full. You’re sure it’s all right?”
“Yeah, he’s just got his cock locked inside you so you can’t get away.” Fred rubbed George’s shaking belly, making hushing sounds. “Smart dog. Fuck, you two are beautiful. You’ve no idea.”
George could feel hot dog breath against his neck, and when he moved a little, trying to ease the strain, the dog clamped his teeth at his nape, just hard enough to stay him without breaking the skin. The knot inside was pressed against his prostate, causing an exquisite, inescapable charge with each thrust of the dog’s hindquarters. The dog’s balls kept slapping his own, and he could feel the dog’s come, a steady stream shooting inside him and trickling down his thighs. Fred caught some in his hand and stroked George’s cock with it, then stuck his sticky fingers in George’s mouth. “Taste it. You and dog. Yeah, that’s good. Suck it all off.”
George suckled at Fred’s fingers, hypnotised by the bitter strangeness of it, while the dog kept pounding him from behind. Fred pressed his fingers deep into George’s mouth, testing out his gag reflex, then laughed and sat up on the back of the couch, his knees to either side of George’s head. George nosed at him anxiously, trying to push aside the robes, and Fred took his hair in a tight grip, holding him back while he pulled his own cock out. “Can’t get enough, can you, you tart?” said Fred with a grin, shoving his cock between George’s lips. “Yeah, that’s good. Put that sweet, hot mouth to use.”
Pinned irresistibly at both ends, George couldn’t remember a moment he’d felt both so vulnerable and so safe. He worked Fred’s cock, sucking hard from stem to tip the way Fred liked it, loving the animal sounds he made, as wild as the dog’s. Fred’s fingers were caught in his hair, forcing his head back and forth, and George panted through flared nostrils, trying to drag in enough oxygen. He felt the tension rise, the familiar thrust and arch of Fred’s body, and he grabbed hold of Fred’s ankles before he could fall off the back of the couch. Fred’s cock was a hot, relentless weight on his tongue. “Gonna come, George,” Fred whispered brokenly. “You swallow it all like a good dog. You swallow it all, or I’ll have something to say about it.” Fred’s come spurted against the back of George’s throat, and he swallowed greedily, trying to take it all without choking. It tasted just like his own.
George held Fred’s softening cock in his mouth until Fred touched a tender finger to his cheek, letting him know it was all right to let go. Fred leant over him and pressed a kiss into his hair, then laughed. “The dog’s got his eye on me. Probably thinks I’m trying to nick his bitch. Is he still shooting his load? Fuck, talk about stamina.”
George wasn’t sure if the dog was done or not. He still felt almost unbearably stuffed, but it seemed like the gush of come had stopped, and the dog was no longer hunching. The teeth had been removed from his neck, replaced by a gentler, whuffling nuzzle behind his ear. “I think he knows who’s top dog around here. Can’t tell if he’s finished. How will we know?”
Fred sat back down beside George, touching the joined bodies with careful fingers. “The knot’s still inside you. We’ll have to wait for it to go down, so you’ll be hung up in the meantime.” The dog barked, nosing at George’s armpit as if he was trying to reach beneath. “What’s that, boy? You think we should take care of George? What a fine dog you are. Such manners.”
Fred reached for George’s cock, which was red and rigid with need, but George flinched. “No, don’t make me come, not like this. I don’t want to lose it while he’s inside me. I’ll tear apart.”
The dog whined, trying to move away, but he was caught just like George. “Ah, ah,” Fred admonished, “stay there or you’ll hurt him. You don’t want that, do you?”
The dog grumbled his agreement, licking George’s shoulder apologetically, which made George laugh despite the soreness in his body. “Bloody hell, it’s like he understands us. S’weird.”
“Yeah,” Fred said, his tone thoughtful.
George felt the dog tense, then stretch a hind leg up and over his body. “Fuck, what he’s up to?”
Fred stroked his back, now completely free of the dog’s weight. “It’s all right, he’s just turning around. Probably getting tired and restless.”
“Insensitive bastard,” said George, smiling wryly. “And now I’ve got a dog’s bum rubbing against mine. Charming.”
“You love it,” said Fred, pinching his arse. “Oi, don’t move, dog. You’ll pull poor George off the couch.”
The dog sighed, and George shook his head. “Fuck, my knees are getting cranky. And this hard-on’s not going anywhere. Fuck. This must be the most bizarre prank you’ve ever involved me in.”
“I’m just waiting for Mum’s head to turn up in the fire.”
George’s eyes widened in panic, and widened even more when the dog started pulling away again. “Don’t say that! And calm down, you bloody mongrel, before you yank my insides out. Fuck.”
Fred went to the dog’s head, staying him with a vehement hand and then a scratch behind the ears. “George, you know I never fuck around when it comes to you. You know that. It’s never a prank when it’s just us, yeah?”
“Just us and a stray dog, huh?” George sighed, eyeing the fireplace with suspicion.
Fred had the dog’s muzzle in a firm grip, holding his face up to the firelight. “I think the dog knows how to keep a secret,” he said at last.
“Hope so,” said George, and then felt actual hope when the knot inside him started unravelling. He shifted forward on his knees, easing up cautiously, and the dog’s cock slipped out of him in a slurp of flesh and semen. George groaned in sheer relief, flopping face-down along the length of the couch and rubbing himself into the cushions. “Clean-up, please,” he said, with a vague gesture of his wand hand.
Fred laughed and spelled most of the mess away. “My command, your wish,” he said, crawling up alongside George. “Here, turn over and let me take care of that.”
George oomphed into the cushions and rolled onto his back, wincing as his sore arse hit a dodgy spring. Fred ducked his head into George’s lap and sucked him off, slowly and sleepily. “Fuck, that’s nice. What a fucking relief. I’m done, all right? You lot have worn me out. No more fucking for a month.”
“A day,” Fred countered, once his mouth was free.
“A week.”
“An hour if you’re not careful,” said Fred, nipping at George’s belly before resting his cheek upon it.
George blinked through drowsy eyes at the dog; he was lying near the couch, his back to them. “Hey, the dog’s not watching us,” he said, as he reached a hand down to pet him. The dog gave his hand a gentle lick, but didn’t get up.
“Probably feeling as knackered as you are,” Fred muttered.
“Maybe he’s giving us some privacy. Guess he doesn’t know what hit him, poor bugger. We should feel ashamed of ourselves, molesting an innocent dog like that. He’ll know to head for the Cauldron next time.”
“He knows to find friends. But George?” George felt Fred’s chin press into his belly, and when he looked down at his brother, Fred was regarding him with a solemn expression. George noticed for the first time that the storm was over; the room was quiet but for their breathing. “Don’t be surprised if he’s gone in the morning.”