Hello, me again....I know, I know, I have to finish How Not To Be Lonely.....I will, i just have been muse-less...evasive little buggers...and so when my dark muse(who provided this lovely fic) came into view, I had to grab her. She has been whispering ideas for HNTBL, and I need to decide whether or not to use them...you will see soon enough. Now, for the technicalities....No, I do not own a) the world or b) the characters, they belong to the temptress J.K. Rowling and(little bits to) Warner Bros. Also..THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT:

()()()IF YOU ARE AGAINST SLASH(male on male) YOU MIGHT BE ICKED BY THIS FIC()()()

also:

()()THIS IS A GRAPHIC PIECE OF LITERATURE, ALTHOUGH ITS R IT COULD BE NC-17...BE WARNED()()

Small key,

//\\= Fred's thoughts

~*~*~*~= flashback

Enjoy!



A young redhead walked into the locker room, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He took off his totally grimy quidditch jersey, and walked slowly towards the shower. Fred stopped to take off his equally disgusting shoes, socks, and robe. He was about to cast off his boxers and enter the row of shower stalls when Madame Hooch's voice came through the door,

"Good night…oh, sorry, not looking. George will be finished in a moment; he is having a little trouble with the second bludger. Well, see you tomorrow"

"Good night Madame Hooch, see you tomorrow" said Fred with as much enthusiasm as he could muster

M. Hooch's footsteps slowly softened as she walked away. //Good, almost alone. He is still here, but he is *always* there\\ He started towards the showers, stopping at his locker, taking the razor blade. Fred stared into the shower area of the room. //Gods, the elves making it so *fucking* white\\ The u-shaped, ivory-white tile section of the locker-room was stunning in its jarring whiteness. The only non-white part is the showerheads and the four-pronged knobs, which are perfectly shined silver.

He slowly walked up to one of the farthest showers in the corner, three on each side with one in the curve of the 'u', and turned the knob marked with an engraved "H". Hot water surged from the silver spigot above him and Fred let out a restrained moan. His hands, almost un-consciously, slid over his body, basking in the heat. Eventually his mind returned to the sharp sliver of metal that he brought from his locker. Fred slowly cut a long line down his arm, from his elbow to his wrist, watching the blood surge from the slice and get washed away by the water. The line was cut by another of equal length, producing a euphoric shudder. The blood barely had time to bleed before the water cleared it away. With each cut, he felt a little more in control, a little more free, a little less enslaved, but the feeling was short-lived. The reason this young Weasley was ripping at his skin was standing at the edge of the showers, shaking his head.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk Fred, what have I told you about cutting yourself? What *am* I going to do with you?"

The antagonist was walking towards him, with the confidence he always had. George always was the stronger one, he had the control. Although the tile was moist from the steam, he walked with the same air of confidence and nonchalance. He rapped his arms around his twin's waist, taking a small piece of skin in his teeth. Fred fought to not groan//*No*, you are *not* going to let him do this anymore…oh *gods*…*no*\\ He pushed George away, but not before a mark was made.

"What's going on here? Are *you* denying *me*?" said George disgusted

"…Yes, *yes* I am" choked out Fred

"*Really*? You think so?"

"Yes, I *really* think so"

"You thought wrong"

George grabbed Fred by his shoulders and slammed him up against the tile. Before Fred had a chance to move, George was on him, pinning him against the wall. "You think its that easy?" George licked Fred's lips, "I am not going to stop until your body, not your mind, tells me to" Going against his mind, Fred's cock was hardening. Kissing slowly down his neck, down his shoulder, and down his chest, George looked into Fred's eyes, mocking him. When George came back up to Fred's level, he lunged forward into George's waiting mouth. //Aagh, *don't* do this to me; I can't handle this\\ George's mouth was invaded by his twin's needing tongue. //No! I am not taking this anymore!!\\ Fred took advantage of the weakened grip on his wrists to fling off the grasp and lunge at his brother, grabbing him around his waist. The two hung in the air for a moment and then came crashing down, slamming on the cold tile. Fred used George's momentary confusion to climb atop him and pin him.

"You are *not* controlling me anymore!" Fred screamed

"Ugh" George shook his head "Was that really needed?"

"Shut up! You have enslaved me too long, and I am though with it!"

"I haven't 'enslaved' you, you have come wanting, needing, *begging* me"

"You dumb fuck, this isn't about the fucking sex! It is about life, and even when it comes to sex, you *have* raped me before"

"Don't you *dare* play the innocent 'he raped me, I never liked it' school boy, you know that's full of shit"

"I'm not saying I don't usually *love* you inside me, but I'm talking about the times when you *raped* me, as in 'performing sexual acts on an unwilling person'"

"That's bull shit, when did I *ever* fuck you when you didn't want it?

~*~*~*~

::slap::

"Get naked, *now*" said George in a voice lacking all usual love and kindness

"I just told you, I'm *not* in the mood"

George slams Fred against the wall, "Did I ask if you were?"

"What is with you?" said a concerned Fred

"I need sex, now, and if you won't…I'm sure Seamus would be *more* than happy to provide" George knew what he just said would force Fred to sex, against his will. Fred was super possessive, protective and would die before letting someone else have his love.

"*NO*, I'll do it, just don't leave"

~*~*~*~

"Hey, you agreed to do it!"

"Don't bullshit yourself, we both know I couldn't have said no"

"You couldn't?"

"Do *NOT* fuck with me right now, you warped me into being that desperate, possessive, self-loathing person. How dare you pretend that it was my fault!?"

"Can we continue this conversation from a prone position? My wrists are starting to hurt."

Fred decided that it was safe to let him go, so he relieved the pressure from George and stood beside him, waiting for him to stand.

"Damn, is it so necessary to resort to…" George stopped mid-sentence and, from a mid-kneeling stance, uppercut Fred. Fred, caught totally off guard, flew backwards.

"Who gives a fuck when and why we fucked, and whether we both wanted it? It's amazing how you can be so confidently smug, biting the hand that fed you! I made you who you are! I was the one who got you to sit down and study, I was the one who spent hours teaching you to be the beater you are today, I was the one that gave you the confidence you have, how dare *you* tell *me* that I am the antagonist in this situation!!" he screamed at the redhead with a nosebleed.

Fred wiped the blood from under his nose, and slowly stood up.

"Did I ask to be 'made'? Did I say 'I hate my existence, change me George?' Did I?"

"You ungrateful bastard!"

George swung at Fred, who ducked and returned the swing. The punch sent George stumbling. Fred rushed at George, hitting him again, sending him smashing into the white tile. George coughed, spat out some blood, and stood facing his twin. He slowly walked up to Fred, who was catching his breath, grabbed his hair, and threw him at the opposite wall. Fred slipped on a puddle, and his shoulder gashed on the sharp spigot. Blood oozed down his chest. When he looked up, his brother was standing over him. The thin boy stood with a devilish grin on his face. Fred, set on removing the smile, kicked George's legs out from under him. The collision of head against tile left a puddle of crimson on the ivory surface. Fred dragged his bruised, and now bloodied, body over to his twin. Climbing on top of him, he stared into the emerald eyes.

"You fucker…why'd you do it? You know this kind of shit never lasts, and *never* has a happy ending."

He didn't expect a response, and he didn't get one. A salty drop slipped into George's mouth, it was a change from the sweet taste that previously filled it. The twin tongues danced back and forth between mouths. Twin's are known to know what the other is thinking at times, and at that moment both boys knew that there was only way this situation was going to end.

- - -

When Filch found the twins later that night, Fred was laying on top of George. Both boys were covered in scratches, cuts, bruises, and gashes. Fred had a large chunk missing from his shoulder, and George had lines scratched down his chest. The two died of loss of blood, but when they were found the shower was as clean as it had always been. The one thing that made everyone wonder was that each boy had dried come on his inner thigh.