Bounds

Disclaimer: You know the drill- nothing belongs to me but my perverted imagination. Characters, places, etc. all belong to J.K. Rowling.

Warning: This story contains my attempt at rationalizing TWINCEST. Yes, that's incest, with the word twin mixed in it, and do you know what that means? It means a sexual relationship between a set of twins, in this case, the lovely Fred and George Weasley. This is not a cheesy self-gratifying fantasy. I actually worked hard on this to show the brotherly bounds between the boys and to create a situation that might reasonably lead to an explicit relationship. That being said, this story still contains incest and homosexuality. So if that's not your bag, then for heaven's sake, DO NOT READ THIS STORY!

Now, I'm quite sure you are capable of taking responsibility for what you chose to read, and if, after my warning, you still want to read this- Enjoy! And please leave a review and tell me how I'm doing. It's been so long since I've posted, I'd be really grateful. Cheers.

George Weasly looked in the mirror and liked what he saw.

Really, he wasn't bad looking at all. Smooth, white skin. Soft, short red hair. A smattering a freckles coating his body like sprinkles on a cake. He was tall with a broad, flat chest and muscular legs. His calves were really quite impressive, actually. He'd also been told he hand nice hands once or twice, whatever that meant. So, really, he wasn't bad at all.

And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he hadn't been able to get laid in four months.

The last time he'd gotten any action at all was on the train to Hogwarts, when Hermione Granger had gotten over-excited about something he'd said and gave him a little peck on the lips. Hell, if he'd know that that would be the last time he'd get any sexual contact in months, he would have at least tried to slip her some tongue.

But it was too late now. He had to except that he had a problem that wasn't going to be easily solved. What he was going to have to do now was come up with a solution. And somehow he didn't think standing naked in front of a mirror in the Gryffindor boy's bathroom was going to help him very much at all.

He let his eyes drift down to his 'little George'. He briefly considered providing himself a little action. Wax his broomstick. Polish his wand. But that idea had really lost all it's luster. Lately, the prospect of spending the evening romancing himself with his own hand was less than stimulating. He was horrified to admit that he couldn't get a rise out of his Johnson with that idea.

Really, he was starting to worry. What if he was impotent?

"George, you crazy git, what in Hades are you doing?"

George flung around with a look of pure mortification. Oh God, had someone just spotted him contemplating his twig and berries?

The sight of his twin immediately put a rest to his fear. His red face cooled and he adopted a sneer to his lips.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" George asked, putting his hands on his hips and making no move to cover himself. "I'm admiring my manly physic!"

Fred rolled his eyes, "I sometimes worry over the fact that we share the same genes."

George just smiled and his brother shrugged and turned, and began removing his clothes. Fred spoke as he undressed.

"What are you doing in here so late anyways?"

George grunted, "I could ask you the same."

"I'll have you know that I just returned form the Owlery. With Angela. Oh yes, I've had an exciting night, Brother," Fred answered with twinkling eyes.

George's jaw dropped. "You two…"

"Yep."

"In the…"

"We did."

"Tonight?"

"That's what I said."

George shook his head in disbelief and took to pacing the area in front of the wall length mirror. "But how?" he muttered to himself.

Fred stood up, wrapping a scarlet and gold towel around his waist, "Well, it was quite simple, really. I bought her enchanted roses and a box of Cockroach Clusters, her favorite. Then I told her she looked pretty and of course she was all flattered. So basically, after that, all I did was suggest that the Owlery would probably be empty and she-"

"Not that, you idiot! I don't care about how you wooed her. I just want to know how you, my own twin, manage to get sex and I don't.

Fred's eyebrows closed in together, "What are you saying?"

Hmm, George thought, he was about to discus his sex life with his twin brother. Better go about this delicately.

"I haven't gotten any action at all in four months and two days!" he sputtered. Ok, so maybe that wasn't quite the way to say that, but it was too late now.

Fred looked astonished, then concerned, then right back to astonished. His lips were forming the 'O' shape but no sound was coming out.

George crossed his arms, "Yeah, that's right. You heard me. Go ahead, laugh. I know you want to!"

Before Fred could respond, George stomped off into the communal showers. Three marble walls and a red curtain formed an area the size of a class room that served as something similar to the Muggle showers that Arthur, his father, was always interrogating Harry Potter about. A gold pipe encircled the room and was enchanted to allow sweet scented water to spurt out in hot streams. George turned the faucet and stepped into the steaming water.

"George!" Fred called, yanking the curtain back and stepping into the shower, still holding his towel around his waist. "George, I wasn't going to make fun of you!"

"Oh come on. Yes you were."

"No really, I-" he stopped, noticing that he'd accidentally soaked his towel. He huffed and tore it off, tossing it into the corner. Then he stalked up to his brother, who'd turned away from him.

He placed his hand on George's shoulder, "Really, I wasn't."

"I know you're just dying to rub in the details of what went on between you and that stupid whore, Angela!" George snapped, turning around to face Fred.

Fred's face dropped. "She isn't a whore," he said quietly.

George was immediately consumed by guilt. He knew his brother better than to think he'd just get with any girl he could. Fred was the more sensitive of the two, and he'd been mooning over Angela for years. He bit his lips and caught Fred's eye.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just so…frustrated about all this. It's kind of embarrassing," he explained.

Fred shrugged, "You shouldn't be embarrassed. Lots of guys don't get any action."

"You don't seem to have a problem."

"Look," Fred said, "It isn't as if Angela and I are getting together every night. This was only our second time, and we've been together almost since school started. I'll tell you, I've spent my share of nights alone with a stolen bottle of Granger's Super Slippery and Soft Skin Moisturizing Potion."

George laughed, "You've tried that stuff too?"

"Yea. You know, I'd enjoy it a whole lot more if not for the smell. It makes my whole bed reek of pansies."

They both laughed, easing the tensing between them. For a minute, they both turned towards the wall, facing the jets of hot water. The sound of running water and buzzing pipes filled the room. Then, Fred spoke again, squinting through the fog of steam at his brother.

"So why are you here so late? You never answered. Aren't you going to be tired in classes tomorrow?"

"Eh, McGonagal is used to me sleeping through first period. I'll be alright. I actually couldn't sleep anyways."

"Why not?"

George turned away, closing his eyes and letting the water bead hit his face. "I was worried," he answered.

Fred cocked his head to the side. "About?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"No. Tell me!"

"Huh uh."

"Yes! George, come on! I'm your brother! Your twin, for God's sakes. You can tell me anything."

Fred's hand brushed over George's lightly. George shivered and pulled away. His brothers large eyes questioned him.

"What is it?" he asked again, gentler this time.

George cast his eyes at the ground and spoke in a mumble, "IwasworriedthatmaybebecauseIhaven'tgottenanythatIwontbeabletogetitupanymore."

"Huh?" Fred said, lifting a brow. "Repeat that audibly please."

"I SAID," George articulated, "I was worried that since I haven't gotten any action lately that I was getting out of practice, of sorts. Lately I haven't been able to…to…Get. It. Up."

He was blushing madly now and had to turn away. He patiently awaited his brothers mocking but it never came. When he finally got the courage to look back up, Fred just appeared to be deep in thought.

"You can't get it up at all?" Fred asked.

"That's what I said."

Fred was thinking so hard now that it looked as though it hurt. Water was pounding on his head and pushing all his red hair over his eyes and steam rose from his top. "Well, we've got to do something then," he announced.

George rolled his eyes, "Like what? Are you going to take me down to the hospital wing and try to explain my problem?"

"No, you stupid git, we're going to solve this ourselves."

"How?" George asked skeptically.

Fred swallowed hard and then lifted his chin, as if trying to appear sure of himself, "We can…ah…test you. You know, prove that your bits and pieces are still in working order."

"Fred, please explain now, because I'm starting to get the idea that you want to-"

"That I want to what?"

"You keep saying 'we'."

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, what do you mean by 'we'?"

"I mean you and I," Fred said, plain a simple. Then he stood there, staring at George as if he were the crazy one.

"You can't be serious!" George nearly shouted.

"Why not?"

George bit his lip, blinking away the water trickling off of his eyelashes. He looked closely at his brother, feeling like he was still standing in front of the mirror. "That'd be like…you know….with myself."

Fred just laughed and flipped his red hair backwards. His put his hands on his hips bones and looked at George. His eyes were twinkling from beneath his slim eyebrows. "What, you don't think I'm good looking enough?"

George's mouth hung open. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't believe his own brother was even suggesting what he was. They couldn't. That was wrong. That was gross. That was disgusting.

But for some reason, the idea had something stirring inside him. He felt his neck prickle.

"We can't," he sighed, tipping his head to the side. The room was getting steamy. The air was seeming thick and hot.

Fred drew in the corner of his mouth and pursed his lips, "Says who?"

"Says the laws of nature," George responded quickly. But, hmm, did he really believe that?

"I'm not asking you to marry me, I'm just trying to help you," Fred said.

George laughed a little, but it came out raspy and thick.

Fred approached his brother and started to extend his hand, "You don't even have to think of me. Think of some girl. Anyone."

Fred fingers brushed against his brothers cheek and George felt his skin flush and prickle. He went to move away but suddenly Fred's large hand was behind his head and his lips were touching his. Fred tipped his head to the side, his fingers trailing down George's neck. He licked George's lips.

George backed away, holding his hands up, palms out. "Fred, no."

Fred grabbed his brothers wrists and leaned in, laughing, "Come ON, George. It's not a big deal."

George blinked and breathed in heavily. Fred's fingers slid down from George's wrists down his forearms.

"But…it's your decision."

George stood, not daring to move. His lips felt tingly and his head felt fuzzy. He couldn't suppress the shiver that racked his body. He let his eyes met Fred's. Fred looked unbelievably blasé. As if this was no big deal at all.

Well, what if it wasn't? It was his brother, after all. He was closer to his brother than anyone in the world, they'd always shared a tight bond. They came from the exact same egg and sperm, after all. Somehow that made what he was considering what he was seem alright. It wasn't as if they were just brothers doing this. They were Itwins/I, and that was different.

"Well?" Fred asked impatiently. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Mmm," George said thoughtfully. No big deal, he thought. This was just to make sure his libido was still intact. This was strictly business. It wasn't like he was attracted to Fred or anything. It would be just like masturbating, only with someone to do it for him. It'd be like masturbating but better. And it was Istrickly business/I.

"Well, alright," he said cautiously. "But there's got to be rules. No more kissing. Just, just help me make sure my wanker is still in order."

"Gottcha," Fred said. He smiled at his brother, and George's stomach flip flopped. He told himself it was nerves, but he knew it was something else. Something close to…excitement.

He gulped. Fred approached him again, looking thoughtful.

"Hmm, what's the best way to do this?" Fred asked himself out loud. He stroked his chin, causing water trickling through his hair to flow down his fingers. Water ran into his eyes and he blinked, then looked at George. "Ok, I've got it. I'll just do to you what I like to do to myself. That makes sense, right? If I like it, you ought to like it too. Genetics say so."

George just nodded. His mouth was starting to feel dry and sticky inside. He took a breath of the muggy, steamy air.

Fred rolled his shoulders back and rubbed his hands together, as if he was ready to do some heavy lifting, "Alright then, lets get on this," he said quite seriously, apparently not seeing the humor in his 'preparation' for the job. George was frankly too nerved up to laugh, or even crack a characteristic grin. He chewed on his finger instead.

Fred moved closer, and George could feel the steam rising off of his body. It curled up and rose away in a white vapor. As he moved closer to his brother, the steam got thicker. The air became hard to breath. George started to pant slightly just as Fred's hand brushed just below his belly button.

His muscles contacted and jumped. Fred looked at him and smiled. His eyebrows lifted and his blue eyes sparkled under heavy eyelids.

"Just…lean back against the wall," he said softly. George's body responded to the tone of Fred's voice. He'd never heard him talk that way before. It sounded almost soothing. Relaxing. Damn it, no wonder the kid got laid more than him. "Ok, good. Just relax and…and close your eyes," he said.

George decided that this was a good idea, and obeyed. He felt water running down over his eyelids, running all over his body. He allowed himself to concentrate on the sensations. IDon't think about Fred/I, he told himself.

"Good," Fred purred, "Now, I want you to imagine a girl. A girl with enormous titties and a mouth like a Hoover, ok?"

George laughed a little.

"Ok, just imagine a gorgeous girl. Perfect body, cute face, blonde hair. And she's all wet and naked. She's touching herself and saying 'Oh, I want you, George. I want you so bad it hurts.'"

Fred spoke the last part close to George's ear. George suddenly felt flushed and excited. Hey, this was actually working! Crazy as it sounded, it was working. And so far, Fred hadn't done much of anything.

George tried to do as his brother said, and imagine a girl. First he pictured a big breasted blonde girl, as Fred had suggested, but the image just didn't interest him. Maybe because it held no familiarity. He tried something else, picturing some girls he knew, but that didn't work either. He didn't really have a crush on anyone right now, no one particularly peeked his interest. Then he tried Hermione, wondering what she would look like in a pair of soaked panties and that white blouse she always wore. Yeah, that worked. Something about seeing studious, virginally Hermione looking like she was ready for a wet T-shirt contest amused him.

"Ok, got an image?" Fred asked, his breath blowing across George's ear.

Suddenly, Hermione faded from view and was replaced with an image of Fred, leaning in to kiss him as he had a moment before.

"Uh, yeah…" George said cautiously. Hermione, he thought, Hermione! But he saw Fred. His eyes blinked open. He found Fred to be extremely close to him, his bright blue eyes gazing into his own.

"Uh uh, no peeking," Fred said, slapping his hand over his brothers eyes. George closed them. "Ok, better," Fred said, and removed his hand slowly. George wished that he would touch him again.

Then Fred's fingers were walking over his stomach. George's breath hitched and he imaged Fred watching his face as he touched him. Ok, big titty blondes. Think of big titty blondes!

Fred's fingers spread out, running lower and tracing his hip bones. Fred's other hand touched the other hip and then ran up George's chest, while the other moved down. His fingers brushed George's dick lightly. So lightly he almost wasn't sure he felt it until it happened again. And again. Fred was touching him just barely. The air between them began to crackle.

"Fred…" George began, trying to make his voice sound normal.

Fred finally gripped his dick in his fist.

"How does that feel," he asked smoothly, sounding once again like his concerned brother and not as he had a few seconds ago when describing the fantasy.

"Um…" George said.

Fred's grip tightened. "That a bit better?"

"Yeah, that's better."

"Ok, good. You know, this is weird. You feel just like me, only I know it's not me. But you're the exact same size and everything."

George felt light with exhilaration, but forced himself to sound nonchalant when he said, "Yeah, well that'd make sense, since we're twins."

"Yeah," Fred said thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know why you aren't getting more action. You and me are hung like grizzle bears!"

George opened his eyes and laughed, and so did Fred. This time, he didn't tell George to shut his eyes, he simply got serious and tightened his grip once again, then began to move his hand up and down slowly.

George's breath hitched.

"That good?" Fred asked. His fingers touched the ridge of George's cock and rubbed.

"Yep."

His thumb began to move in circles on the underside. He massaged up and down with gentle pressure, gradually squeezing harder and moving faster. He flicked his fingers over the slit at the head of George's penis lightly and George moaned.

Fred looked excited when he said, "Yeah? It's working?"

"I think so," George said, rather astonished himself.

Fred's hand started going up and down quicker and George was starting to feel light. He sagged against the wall, feeling himself get harder. He couldn't believe this. Couldn't believe what he was doing, or that it felt so good. But he was hardly worried at this point. The excitement of knowing he wasn't impotent blinded him to the possible consequences of doing something like this. This was just a glorious moment. He could get it up! He could get it up for…

His brother.

The realization hit him as he spoke the words in his head. This was his brother going to work on him, not a big titty whore. His brother, who he'd grown up with. The brother he'd slept in the same bed with when they'd been too poor to afford one for each of them. The brother he'd showered with countless times before and never felt anything for. The brother he'd jerked off to Muggle porn with when they found it along with a TV out in the shed where their father kept his secret Muggle treasures. This was the brother he'd never felt anything for other that brotherly love.

This just…wasn't right.

"Fred, you've got to stop," he said.

"Huh, why? Am I holding to tight? Here, how's this?"

George cock hardened up even more, growing with his excitement. He was horrified to look down and see how turned on he was. He attempted to push Fred away.

"Just stop," he said.

Fred's eyes closed to slits and his face was a mask of confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just stop. We can both see that I'm in fine working condition so…"

Fred laughed, "Yeah right, I can't just stop now. What are you going to do, walk around with a massive erection until you get blue balls? If you try to walk through the common room with that thing you might take one of the first year's eyes out."

Hmm, Fred made a good point. He really couldn't stop now. He had to do something about his little solder standing at attention.

"Baseball," he muttered, "McGonagal naked on a cold day. Malfoy getting it up the arse from Goyle."

"Huh?" Fred asked.

George screwed up his face in concentration. "Quidich. McGongal naked. McGonagal naked. Saggy boobs, oh God!"

"George, what the hell are you doing?" Fred nearly shouted.

"I'm trying to get rid of this thing!" George shouted back. "McGonagal and Dumbledore getting it on!"

"Oh, Jeez, George, Stop it! That's repulsive."

"That's he point."

"No. No. Just stop. You don't have to do this. Just let me finish."

"NO!"

"What? Why? We agreed that this was ok. It's no big deal, it's just a hand job."

"A hand job from you!" George screamed. The words echoed over the sound of the water rushing down over them. Suddenly, Fred moved away and was silent.

The water from the shower was starting to lose heat. The streams of water were no longer scorching hot, but instead, just barely lukewarm. The steam faded away and made the whole situation thoroughly visible. No more murkiness. No more shadows. Just Fred and George, the twins, facing each other, their expressions mirror images of confusion. What they were doing floated between them, invisible. An unspoken crime they were both witness to.

Fred slowly took a breath and let his body relax. He nodded slowly, "Ok. Maybe you're right, and this is sick. I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."

George chewed on his finger again, feeling his excitement turn to remorse. He not only felt bad about what they were doing, he felt bad for making Fred feel bad. He sucked in air shakily and stepped closer to his brother. His head hung down self consciously, but his eyes flicked up, peering at Fred from under auburn eyebrows drawn into a worried expression.

"Don't be sorry," he said, "I know…I know you were just trying to be a concerned brother. So, really, thanks."

"Yeah, well, in that case, you're welcome."

Silence.

Fred stirred nervously, "So, Malfoy getting it up the arse, aye?"

George lifted his head, "You know it. I bet he gets it from Snape and that's why his marks are so good in potions."

"Wouldn't be surprised. Snape always seemed a bit light in the old leather boots, if you know what I mean."

George blinked, "No. I don't."

Fred shook his head, "I mean that he's a Voldie loving queer, George."

"Oooooh," George howled, "I get it! Light in the boots, alright!"

Fred shook his head and started out of the shower, "Sometimes it worries me to know that we share the same genes."

George followed him out and grabbed a towel and pulled it around himself. He watched Fred do the same and then add and extra one to make a towel turban on his head. George shook his head and grinned.

"Naw, it never worries me," he said. And Fred smiled back.