Chapter one: Begging for it

---

Author's note: Hi all. This is my first HP fic... (at least my first fic that's solely HP and nota crossover. Meeh. Details, details.) soplease, be gentle reviewing. It's also the first fic I've ever written with any sex in it... hope my abilities will suffice...

It's dedicated to Sparks 'cause I postponed working on her little request to finish this. Sorry hun! Here's a Christmas pressie anyway! Hope it'll make up for things.
Oh, and I might write an alternate ending to this, too. Keep an eye out for updates!

---

Who said lying was easy?

Fred had been lying to George for a century – or so it seemed – and no matter what he did, or how he tried to justify his lies, his guilty conscience was always there nagging in the periphery of his mind. It was simply killing him.
It was just, how could he tell his brother the truth? How could he possibly be able to?

So, he had decided to end it all. End what was making him feel so bad, and end what would eventually tear him and his brother apart, if he let it go on.
It hadn't been easy making that decision; however much his conscience was hurting him, his 'wrongdoings' still supplied him with a guilty pleasure he didn't want to be without. But after all, family was what mattered, and he would never be close to anyone the way he was to his twin.

It was after Quidditch practice. A normal bloody Thursday, Herbology and Potions included. The practice had been very tough, a needful preparation for their upcoming game against Slytherin. Fred and George had missed their last practice because they'd played a complex prank on Filch that had required most of their free time. In retrospect, not a very smart move, but it had sure been fun while it had lasted. So this practice had been a kind of payback for that. That hadn't been even remotely fun.

Fred pulled off his clothes and hit the team showers. He had waited until everyone had went off to their own activities, because he had fancied having this moment in peace and quiet; just a couple of minutes when he could be alone and think things through, which was a virtual impossibility in the common room or anywhere else where his brother and their mutual friends hung out. George had had no trouble leaving him behind. After all, he had Lee.
He shuddered as he felt the water trickling down his back. There was obviously something wrong with the tap, because not much water came out from it, and it made strange, crackling noises when small droplets of water did manage to get out. He thought of fixing it for a second, but he didn't have the energy left after practice to go fetch his wand. Besides, he had never been especially good with the Reparo charm.
Sighing, he turned the water off and leaned his head against the cold, sterile wall. It seemed safe, somehow, and he found himself relaxing to the tranquil mood.
The tranquillity, however, was soon disrupted by the sound of an all too familiar voice.

"You're still here, I see. Waiting for someone?"
Fred didn't bother turning around. He would've known who it was even if he hadn't spoken; his presence affected the entire space which he was in.
"Not really. I wanted to be alone." Fred hoped that his reply had sounded snappy and irritable enough to make him go away.
"Alone? Where's the fun in that?"
Fred sighed again. Apparently his tone of voice had been completely wrong. He'd have to work on that – but now, it was all too late.
"Don't." He felt trapped, like an animal gone astray, captured by the self-righteous hunter. The hunter who thought he owned everything, who thought he had control. And for the moment, he was right.
"Don't what?" Hands locked a firm grip around Fred's waist. He gasped, the touch a shock to his existence, and then he was turned around violently to face the intruder. A pair of darkened eyes met his.
"I want you to go away. I need to think things through – for both our sakes."

Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, laughed heartily. He maintained his grip around Fred's waist, ignoring the fact that his teammate was obviously uncomfortable.
"Things? What things might that be?"
"Well, you know… things! Like… this. What we're doing, why we're doing it…"
"Why? Why, Weasley? I thought that was fairly obvious." He leaned forward and kissed him lightly, teasingly. "You like it."
Fred nodded slightly. "Yeah." There was no use denying something that was this apparent.
"Then stop arguing," Wood mumbled. He was fully dressed, Quidditch uniform and all, and Fred suddenly felt very exposed in his nudity. But it wasn't such an uncomfortable situation; he had to admit to himself. The little resistance he'd had left had vanished the second Wood had kissed him, and he was powerless against him – again.

One more time, he thought to himself, just one more time, then I'll break it off, and I won't have anything to hide from George anymore.

Fred let himself go completely, placing his hand around Wood's neck, pulling him closer. They kissed, and Fred felt a rush go through his entire body as he felt Oliver's tongue in his mouth, playfully exploring and enticing him. He fiddled with the buttons on Oliver's shirt, but he found it hard unbuttoning it as he was distracted by everything else going on. Finally, he succeeded, and again, he felt the sudden rush when skin met skin. They were standing so close to one another now, he could feel Oliver's heart beat its unique and rhythm against his chest.
As the team captain let his right hand slip down from Fred's waist, down to where he now could feel only the familiar throbbing sensation and heat Oliver always provoked, he trembled slightly, barely able to keep himself from moaning.

Wood noticed, a satisfied smirk on his face amidst kisses. He was in total control. He was the given leader, and Fred just tried to keep up with him. After all, he was older, and far more experienced.

It was just like a dance they performed, an intricate tango of sorts. And Oliver was quite the dancer.

"You want this?" he asked, suddenly removing his right hand completely and placing it behind his back, as though he was taking away a toy from a child.
Fred woke up from what had been a quite trance-like state and met his gaze foggily. "Yes," he said, breathing more heavily than he would have wanted to.
"Should I carry on then?"
For a second, Fred hated him intensely. He always did this; kept him on hold, just to see how much he wanted it… how much he wanted him. Ridiculous, really, because he already knew that Fred, enticed just right, would do anything for him to continue. He just wanted to make him beg for it first.
"Y-yes," he stuttered. "Come on, Wood… don't do this, y-you have to finish what you've started. Don't… don't tease me like this."
"But I like it," replied Wood, still with the same satisfied smirk on his face. "I like the way you're desperate for me. I like the look in your eyes as you are forced to wait."
"Y-you get on off on me begging for it?" Fred asked, but to no point; he already knew the answer. He'd known it from the first time he'd done it with him.
Oliver's eyes glinted mischievously. "Yes."
"Well then," mumbled Fred, feeling slightly drunk and weary with desire, "I'll beg. Please Wood, finish off what you've started. Relieve me, Oliver, I can't take this any longer."
Begging made him feel like a humble slave or servant. It made him feel uneasy, but he was willing to do whatever was necessary at this point.
Fred could see Oliver's eyes glint. "That's all I wanted to hear," he laughed silently, and he down on his knees.