WARNINGS:
Slash~ boy/boy
Lemon~ sex
Twincest~ Fred and George doing things they shoulding't be doing...
Fluff~ A small dose of fluffy love
Poetry~ big words and elaborate descriptions
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
********************************************************************************
Silent Communication
George looked up to see Fred emerging from the bathroom, having
finished his shower. He toweled excess water off of his hair quickly, before
tossing the damp cloth down onto the bed beside George. Despite how hot the day
was, Fred always insisted on scalding hot showers, and the obtrusive heat of the
towel beside him caused George to frown. Annoyed by the offending dampness, he
threw the towel back towards the bathroom door, as Fred padded across the
bedroom to the dresser. Wearing only his boxers, Fred grabbed a pair of jeans
and pulled them on unceremoniously. He now rummaged about for a shirt that
wasn't too hot, but found none. He abandoned his search, realizing that it would
yield no result. He shoved the dresser drawer closed and tossed himself down on
the bed beside George.
They had shared this same bed for their entire life, and, despite the
fact that they were now teenagers, continued to do so. Partly, it was because no
one wanted to deal with transporting a bed from another room. Also, Fred and
George did not insist on anyone doing so. They often found comfort in each
other's arms, falling asleep with another warm body. Often, they would lay awake
talking. Not their usual, playful chatter, but serious issues which pressed
them. Somehow, they seemed to find it easier to be emotional in the dark. And on
days like this, sultry and still, they often refrained from talking altogether,
simply compelled to do nothing. Only to lay, half naked, on the bed, cooling
themselves through inactivity, with only the low hum of the fan to permeate the
room.
George observed his brother laying beside him, his eyes closed, in only
his jeans. Despite his hot shower just earlier, George decided that Fred did
appear marginally cooler than himself, and opted to remove his own shirt. He sat
up slowly, and peeled the offending garment from his sweat-slicked body, before
tossing it in the same general direction that he had tossed the towel only
moments before. He fell back onto the bed again, and sighed, marveling at how
much cooler he now felt.
George glanced over at Fred, who also appeared to have cooled down much
more. To a level of toleration, at least. George rolled onto his side, moving
his body casually next to Fred's, and scooted over to place his head against
Fred's chest, nestled in the curve made by Fred's chest and his outstretched
arm. Fred slid his free hand over and ran his fingers through George's hair.
Moments passed, as the laid there, content in the presence of each
other. Always, it had been like this. An unspoken bond, a wordless need for
mutual contact.
Fred felt that he had cooled considerably, and opened his eyes to gaze
out the window. George lifted his head and followed his gaze. Outside, dusk had
drifted away into the arms of night, leaving the tending of the world to the
half moon, whose light drifted in like a shimmering curtain. Fred shifted his
gaze again. George turned his head to look at his twin, seeing his face
half-illuminated, skin silver-pale, otherwise, his face completely shadowed. But
his eyes were lit silver.
George pulled himself out of Fred's embrace, sitting up. He slid off of
the bed to stand beside the window, gazing out briefly, before casting his gaze
on the box fan which whirred away atop the dresser. He reached over quickly and
shut it off, met with an immediate and overwhelming sound of nothingness. He
nearly winced at the all-encompassing silence, but found comfort in that he was
not alone. He looked over to Fred, who was now sitting up, gazing at him
questioningly. George looked out the window once again, the moon catching his
features and etching them into Fred's mind. A perfect reflection of himself
stood there. Or was he his brother's reflection instead? Was he standing beside
the window, and George sitting on the bed? George saw the shift in Fred's gaze
and turned to face him sharply. Fred nearly gasped. Looking at his twin, who
stood bathed in a shimmering curtain, Fred stared deep into George's illuminated
face. His eyes were as mirrors.
George looked down at his brother, seeming fragile under such
compromising light, and George smiled softly to himself, knowing full well that
he was one of the few in the world who would ever see Fred so stripped of his
defenses. Then his smile turned into a full grin, as he decided to take
advantage of this state of defenselessness between them. George pounced.
*
Slash~ boy/boy
Lemon~ sex
Twincest~ Fred and George doing things they shoulding't be doing...
Fluff~ A small dose of fluffy love
Poetry~ big words and elaborate descriptions
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
********************************************************************************
Silent Communication
George looked up to see Fred emerging from the bathroom, having
finished his shower. He toweled excess water off of his hair quickly, before
tossing the damp cloth down onto the bed beside George. Despite how hot the day
was, Fred always insisted on scalding hot showers, and the obtrusive heat of the
towel beside him caused George to frown. Annoyed by the offending dampness, he
threw the towel back towards the bathroom door, as Fred padded across the
bedroom to the dresser. Wearing only his boxers, Fred grabbed a pair of jeans
and pulled them on unceremoniously. He now rummaged about for a shirt that
wasn't too hot, but found none. He abandoned his search, realizing that it would
yield no result. He shoved the dresser drawer closed and tossed himself down on
the bed beside George.
They had shared this same bed for their entire life, and, despite the
fact that they were now teenagers, continued to do so. Partly, it was because no
one wanted to deal with transporting a bed from another room. Also, Fred and
George did not insist on anyone doing so. They often found comfort in each
other's arms, falling asleep with another warm body. Often, they would lay awake
talking. Not their usual, playful chatter, but serious issues which pressed
them. Somehow, they seemed to find it easier to be emotional in the dark. And on
days like this, sultry and still, they often refrained from talking altogether,
simply compelled to do nothing. Only to lay, half naked, on the bed, cooling
themselves through inactivity, with only the low hum of the fan to permeate the
room.
George observed his brother laying beside him, his eyes closed, in only
his jeans. Despite his hot shower just earlier, George decided that Fred did
appear marginally cooler than himself, and opted to remove his own shirt. He sat
up slowly, and peeled the offending garment from his sweat-slicked body, before
tossing it in the same general direction that he had tossed the towel only
moments before. He fell back onto the bed again, and sighed, marveling at how
much cooler he now felt.
George glanced over at Fred, who also appeared to have cooled down much
more. To a level of toleration, at least. George rolled onto his side, moving
his body casually next to Fred's, and scooted over to place his head against
Fred's chest, nestled in the curve made by Fred's chest and his outstretched
arm. Fred slid his free hand over and ran his fingers through George's hair.
Moments passed, as the laid there, content in the presence of each
other. Always, it had been like this. An unspoken bond, a wordless need for
mutual contact.
Fred felt that he had cooled considerably, and opened his eyes to gaze
out the window. George lifted his head and followed his gaze. Outside, dusk had
drifted away into the arms of night, leaving the tending of the world to the
half moon, whose light drifted in like a shimmering curtain. Fred shifted his
gaze again. George turned his head to look at his twin, seeing his face
half-illuminated, skin silver-pale, otherwise, his face completely shadowed. But
his eyes were lit silver.
George pulled himself out of Fred's embrace, sitting up. He slid off of
the bed to stand beside the window, gazing out briefly, before casting his gaze
on the box fan which whirred away atop the dresser. He reached over quickly and
shut it off, met with an immediate and overwhelming sound of nothingness. He
nearly winced at the all-encompassing silence, but found comfort in that he was
not alone. He looked over to Fred, who was now sitting up, gazing at him
questioningly. George looked out the window once again, the moon catching his
features and etching them into Fred's mind. A perfect reflection of himself
stood there. Or was he his brother's reflection instead? Was he standing beside
the window, and George sitting on the bed? George saw the shift in Fred's gaze
and turned to face him sharply. Fred nearly gasped. Looking at his twin, who
stood bathed in a shimmering curtain, Fred stared deep into George's illuminated
face. His eyes were as mirrors.
George looked down at his brother, seeming fragile under such
compromising light, and George smiled softly to himself, knowing full well that
he was one of the few in the world who would ever see Fred so stripped of his
defenses. Then his smile turned into a full grin, as he decided to take
advantage of this state of defenselessness between them. George pounced.
*