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Fic: Not worth it, you/Fred, NC-17

Fic: Not worth it, you/Fred, NC-17

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peer pressure
Title: Not Worth it
Exchange with: xnevrlookbacx
Pairing(s): You/Fred
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 978
Summary: Are punishments really worth it?

You apparated home, slightly scared for your life, just like every night after work. You and your husband had set up a specific apparation point in your new house, off of Diagon Alley. The problem was Fred, who though it was hilarious to place things not belonging at an apparation, in the apparation point.

This night it wasn’t so bad. The only mishap was that you found yourself standing on the coffee table. Last week you had appeared in the middle of lightening sand. Fred had almost pulled a muscle with laughing when you had stomped into your bedroom coved head to toe in fine grain sand.

He had stopped laughing, of course, when you informed him that due to his prank, he wasn’t getting any. For an undefined amount of time.

Now, eight days later, you were wondering why you picked a punishment that punished you as well. With a sigh you stepped off the table and went in search of your redhead husband. As soon as you stepped out of the living room you were caught up in strong arms and lips were pressed to yours. You moaned softly, and kissed back for a few seconds, before pushing the redhead away.

“George, if I wanted to snog you, I would have married you.”

“You are the only one who can tell us apart,” your husband’s twin pouted, keeping you in his arms.

“I’ve had practice,” you smiled, rubbing your cheek against his.

“But our own mother can’t even tell us apart.”

“Your mother hasn’t shagged either of you,” you told him, grinning at his grossed out expression, “what are you doing here?”

“Gred told me to distract you,” he told you, leading you back into the living room.

“Fred told you to come over and snog his wife?”

George grinned, “no, that was a perk.”

“I’m going to tell Lee,” you teased.

“He won’t care. He’ll ask how you were.”

“What would you tell him?” you asked.

“Awful,” he said, causing you to slap his arm.

“No violence,” your husband scolded, walking into the room.

“But he deserves it,” you pouted. George winked at you, before disapparating.

“How was your day?” Fred asked.

“Just another day of bookkeeping,” you murmured, relaxing into his arms as he sat next to you and pulled you close.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t work out of the Diagon Alley office,” he murmured into your hair.

“Because if I worked in the same office as you, I’d never get any work done.”

“Because I’m so sexy, right?”

You shook your head, “because you be playing tricks on me all day.”

“I would not!” He defended, holding you tighter.

“Need I remind you of the lightning sand?”

His ears quickly turned red in embarrassment, “that was at home.”

“So?” you asked, nuzzling closer to him.

“I only play with you at home.”

“Is that so Mr. Weasley?” you purred, before pressing your lips to his. His arms wrapped around you and up to you r hair, caressing your scalp in a way that he knew melted your bones and ache with need, you moaned and clung to him tightly. You opened your mouth, invite his tongue into your mouth, his tongue met yours, teasing lightly, before pulling away, which caused you to whine in protest.

“Shhh, Mrs. Weasley,” he whispered, “am I still being punished?”

“Yes,” you breathed, tightening your arms when he tried to pull away, “just some other way.”

He smiled, “you’re just randy, Mrs. Weasley.”

You nuzzled his cheek, “no, I just muss being close to you.”

Again you found lips pressed to yours unexpectedly, except this time you wanted to keep kissing, not push the offender away, “mmm, Fred,” you moaned, clinging to him again.

Fred whispered your name in answer and laid you back on the couch. A shiver of excitement went down your spine, at the control he was taking. He laid on top of you, covering your body with his and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Yes,” you moaned, clinging to your husband, not knowing how you could have denied him for eight days. You hadn’t even been married a year. You arched your neck, throwing your head back as he ground your hips together.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?” you panted

“No, we’re staying here,” Fred panted against your ear, murmuring a spell that banished both your clothes to your hamper.

“But apparation and floo,” you moaned at the skin on skin contact.

“Don’t care,” he groaned, slipping into you with little resistance on your part.

“Yes,” you moaned again, clinging to his shoulders as he started a brutal rhythm that you couldn’t even counter, you just had to lay back and enjoy the ride, which wasn’t hard, “Fred, ohhhh, fuck.”

“Oh, Merlin,” he groaned, gripping the couch so hard his knuckles were turning white. You ran your hands down his arms and gripped his hands.

“Oh, hell,” you whimpered, “put your hands on me.”

He took his hands from the couch and gripped your hips in the same white knuckled grip and pounded into you, bending you almost in half, making you scream in pleasure. “You are mine,” he gasped out, between smashing his lips against yours and kissing you with a fierce passion. After a few more of his thrusts you groaned and came hard.

As your body stiffened, Fred sped up and came soon after, almost screaming your name. And right after that, he collapsed on you, and you sighed, loving the feel of your husband, warm and floppy after a strong orgasm, his body covering yours protectively.

“We should postpone sex more often,” you murmured into his neck and he fell asleep on you.

“The sex was great, love, but it’s not worth it,” he whispered, before the both of you dropped off to sleep.
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