The Little Games We Play (Ch. 2)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

The Little Games We Play

Chapter 2

Fleur gasped from the thickness of Harry’s cock buried inside her. She nipped on his shoulder and tasted the saltiness of her own sweat on his skin. Her legs were limp and splayed open across the sheets. Harry’s weight pressed her into the mattress, but his thrusts were lazy, slow, and deliberately tormenting in a way that sent pleasure racing up her spine. It was still early. The bedroom glowed from the tiny sliver of sun peeking over the horizon, and the muffled snores of the Burrow filtered up through the floorboards, barely audible above Fleur’s little moans.

She was on her back, her arms spread out in surrender, and her hair splayed wildly across the pillow. Her ankles pressed to the backs of Harry’s thighs, and her toes curled. He dragged his length out of her, letting the tip rest at the twitching entrance, and then slid back in, inch by stubborn inch, until her body took it all. Her head rolled to the side. She locked eyes with her husband, who sat in a battered desk chair three feet from the bed. His bathrobe was parted, and his cock stood rigid in his fist.

Harry’s palm traveled up Fleur’s calf and over the arch of her foot, his fingers kneading the ball just below her toes. Fleur’s eyes fluttered. Her feet were sensitive, almost unbearably so, and Harry had quickly learned the trick of using her body against her. His hand ran up the back of her calf, and his fingers tickled her behind her knee. Fleur gasped, and her face screwed up in pleasure. Bill’s breathing quickened as his wife’s legs jerked on the bed.

Harry leaned forward, his lips grazing her breast, then her nipple. Then he lightly nipped it. “Are you getting close?” he asked, and nudged her thighs wider.

“Oui,” Fleur whispered. Her voice was dreamy and tired. “Do not stop, ‘arry.” She smirked at her husband in the chair, daring him to look away. Bill’s hand moved faster.

Fleur’s thighs glistened with sweat and her own arousal. Harry sucked the underside of her breast and dragged his tongue along her salty skin. She whimpered, arching her back, and the motion forced him even deeper. Fleur’s pussy was a silky vice. It was velvety soft and hot, and she flexed around him on every withdrawal, trying to milk more out of his cock. Harry responded with another deliberate, devastating stroke.

He didn’t break rhythm as he mouthed his way up Fleur’s chest, licking sweat from her pale, round tits. Fleur let her head flop back, baring her throat. Harry’s mouth found it instantly. He kissed the pulse there, then bit down just hard enough to leave a mark. Fleur shrieked and giggled, the sound wild and a little feral. She reached for Harry’s hair, dragging him up so she could kiss him on the lips. She tasted her pussy on his tongue, and she smiled into his mouth. About half an hour earlier, she violently came against his mouth as he licked her from asshole to clit. 

“I want you to fuck me faster,” Fleur begged, mouthing the words against his lips.

“I know,” Harry replied, his words muffled by her tongue. He picked up the pace, each thrust a steady piston of his cock. His hips smacked against the soft swell of her ass. Fleur’s legs wrapped around him, her ankles locking behind his back. Harry grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the mattress above her head.

“‘arder,” Fleur whispered and then moaned. “Yes. Like that.”

Her hair was a tangle of silver as sweat glued it to her cheeks and forehead. She looked up at Harry with hooded, glossy eyes. He buried his cock to the hilt with every push, making sure she felt the stretch. Bill groaned, and the sound was desperate. He couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to look away. Fleur looked like a goddess as she mewled with pleasure.

Fleur cried out and squealed into his mouth, and he marveled at the way her body responded to his. Every thrust of his cock was met with an answering squeeze, a little gasp, or the whine of a woman who was already half over the edge but greedy for more. Harry watched her chest, and her breasts rose and fell in a fast rhythm. Her nipples were incredibly stiff and crinkled, and he desperately wanted to suck on them. He freed one hand and let it wander, rolling her nipple between his fingers, and tugging just enough to make her squeak.

She bucked, her hips jerking up to meet his, and she came suddenly, without warning. Her pussy fluttered wildly around Harry’s cock, and he felt his balls get drenched with a quick squirt. The first time she’d done that, he’d thought she was exaggerating a little or putting on a show for Bill, but he quickly found out how wrong he was. The squirting, trembling, and squealing with pleasure were all real, and it happened whether Bill was there or not. Harry bit her bottom lip to keep her quiet, but Fleur just moaned into his mouth.

Harry held still, letting her ride it out, and then started up again. He could feel his own orgasm building, but he held back. He wanted it to last.

She smiled, still dazed, and ran her tongue over Harry’s lips. “You are cruel,” she teased. “You like to make me beg.”

He smiled and gave her a quick, sharp thrust. “Go on, then.”

“Please,” she said, her sexy accent making his cock twitch. “Please, ‘arry, fill me again. I want all of it.”

In the corner, Bill bit his lip and started stroking himself even harder, the sound of skin on skin loud and desperate. His other hand clenched the arm of the chair until his knuckles whitened. Harry looked at him, meeting his eyes, and Bill nodded, giving his blessing.

Harry fucked Fleur in earnest now, letting go of her wrists so he could grip her hips. He pulled her up and into him, making her take every inch. Fleur’s cries of pleasure turned guttural, then wordless. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, but Harry moved it away and kissed her again, swallowing every moan.

His cock swelled inside her, thick and throbbing. Fleur arched her back, planting her feet on his hips, and lifted her ass clean off the mattress. “Oh, yes!” she squealed, the words louder than she expected.

Harry came, slamming into her with a final, brutal thrust. He pressed his face to her chest and sucked her nipple between his lips as he unloaded, filling Fleur until it leaked out around his cock. She shuddered and then giggled, breathless and utterly spent.

Harry stayed buried inside of her as they slowly kissed, his cock softening inside her, until Fleur gently pushed him away with both feet. He pulled out and deliberately left a sticky mess that trickled down the insides of her thighs. Fleur looked down at herself and giggled again. “You are terrible,” she said, but she sounded deliriously happy.

Harry stood up, wiped his mouth, and watched Bill’s reaction. Bill was on the brink, his eyes glued to the space between Fleur’s legs. Fleur spread them wider for him, and a string of cum drooled from her pussy to the sheet. She held herself open with both hands, making a show of it, and Bill whined before cumming all over the inside of his robe, his face twisted with pleasure.

Fleur cackled and closed her legs. “Men are so simple,” she said, rolling onto her side.

Harry laughed. He grabbed his clothes from the floor and tugged on a pair of boxers. “Good show,” Bill told him, who was slumped bonelessly in the chair.

Harry chuckled and finished getting dressed. “Anytime, mate,” he said. Bill looked at his wife, glowing and utterly debauched, and she seemed so happy that Harry almost felt bad for fucking her right in front of him.

Fleur rolled over, grabbed Harry’s wrist, and yanked him down until he was leanging over. She kissed his cheek and then his mouth, this time with gentle gratitude. “Thank you, ‘Arry,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. “You always make me feel so good.”

Harry smiled and kissed her again. Fleur opened her mouth and invited him in. Downstairs, the rest of the house began to stir, but none of them moved. They listened to the clatter of breakfast, the first shouts of the day, and the ordinary sounds of a house filled with people who had no idea what was going on upstairs.

The Little Games We Play

The orchard was alive with insects that buzzed over the fallen apples. Ron found Bill standing in the patchy shade, chuckling as a gnome gave him the finger. Bill threw dried apple cores at a garden gnome, who happily dodged each one. Ron didn’t want to come any closer, but his legs moved on their own.

“Hey,” he said and his voice cracked.

Bill turned, gave him an easy, lazy smile that always made Ron feel twelve again. “Hey yourself. Did you sleep at all?” Ron had dark bags under his eyes. 

Ron shook his head. “Not really.”

Bill considered him for a second, then lobbed the last apple into the hollow of a tree and wiped his sticky hand on his jeans. “Bad dreams?”

The mid day sun was harsh, unkind, and way too bright. Ron squinted at his brother. He wanted to slap some sense into him for being so naive, but all he did was say, “I saw something last night … through your window.”

Bill’s face flickered, but only for a heartbeat. He folded his arms and leaned against the gnarled apple tree. “Let me guess. You were outside with the broom, skimming the windows and looking for something interesting.”

Ron flushed. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Bill’s tone was so mild it almost sounded gentle. “You used to knock on my window all the time. I thought maybe you’d grown out of it.”

Ron bit the inside of his cheek until it hurt. He couldn’t look at Bill. Instead he kicked at a lump of dirt. “I was bored,” he lied, “I couldn’t sleep and thought maybe you’d want to toss the Quaffle around or …” He cut off.

Bill’s lips curled. “So you saw Fleur, then.”

Ron’s breath left him in a hard, short grunt. “Yeah. I saw Fleur.”

“And Harry,” Bill added, like it was part of a completely normal conversation.

Ron glared at him, suddenly furious. “You’re not even angry? Your wife … she’s fucking Harry! In your bed, mate! And you’re just …” He was at a loss for words.

Bill just looked at him. His eyes were blue and colder than Ron remembered. “You didn’t see all of it,” Bill said.

Ron didn’t know what the fuck that meant, so he just barreled ahead. “Why aren’t you mad? Why don’t you care?”

Bill didn’t answer right away. He bent, plucked a stick from the grass, and twirled it between two fingers. “I care,” he said. “Just not in the way you think.”

Ron spat on the ground. “She’s cheating on you.”

Bill’s mouth quirked. “Do you really think Fleur is the type to cheat?”

Ron had no answer to that. The image from last night, Fleur’s pale thighs clamped around Harry, her pussy stretched wide and glistening, flashed behind his eyelids. His voice dropped. “I thought you’d go mental. I thought you’d … I don’t know, punch Harry or curse him, or …”

Bill tossed the stick aside. “I was in the room, Ron. I watched the whole thing. This wasn’t the first time we did this,” Bill confessed. It felt strangely good to tell someone about this.

Ron's mind blanked, and then shorted. “Bullshit.”

Bill’s expression softened, just a bit. “It’s not bullshit. Fleur likes to put on a show for me, and I like to watch them.” His tone made it sound like he was talking about a dinner party, or a chess match. “Harry’s got … talent … and stamina. I can’t always keep up with her. Not since the Curse.” He gestured vaguely at his own chest, the faded, ragged scars showing under his shirt. “You think it’s easy for me, keeping up with a woman like that? Truthfully, I couldn’t keep up with her before the Curse.”

Ron couldn’t think of a reply. His brain was stuck on the words, ‘I watched the whole thing.’ “You like it?” Ron asked, so quietly it was almost a squeak. His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking. Even his cock was shaking. He hated it.

Bill rolled his eyes. “Yes, I enjoy seeing Fleur lose control like that, little brother, but it’s more complicated than that. Anyway, Fleur always comes back to me, in the end.” He looked Ron up and down. “What did you do, after? Tell me you didn’t just fly back to bed.”

Ron was silent. His face was burning. He picked at the band of his watch, and his nails scraped the skin.

Bill grinned, but not unkindly. “Did you wank off in the orchard, or did you just keep watching until Harry finished her off?” He leaned in close and dropped his voice. “Fleur’s got a sexy voice when she’s fucking, doesn’t she?”

Ron backed up, stumbled, then squared his shoulders. “It’s sick. It’s fucked. I should’ve punched him … or you.”

Bill actually laughed, a real bark of a sound. “Like you could land a punch on Harry,” he said. “And if you punched me, you’d find yourself in the orchard, hanging upside down by your skivvies,” Bill told him with certainty, and Ron flushed pink. He knew Bill would do it, too.

“Besides, it’s not his fault. I’m the one who asked him to do it. He wouldn’t agree at first, but I had Fleur talk to him about it.” Bill’s mouth curled into a smile. “She’s special that way. She can get you to agree to practically anything.”

Ron remembered Fleur’s pleasured face, shiny with sweat, her hair stuck to her forehead. He remembered the way Harry claimed her body from behind, the way Fleur begged and pleaded for more, and the way she squealed in pleasure when she got what she wanted. He tried to get angry, but he just felt empty and confused.

Bill picked up a fallen apple and chucked it across the pond. “Look. I know it’s weird. I know you don’t understand it, but it works for us. Fleur and I are happier than we’ve ever been, and I don’t have to pretend she’s not bored with me. You get that, right?”

Ron tried, he really did, but the more Bill explained, the less sense it made. “You could’ve at least told me,” Ron said. “ … or asked ME before letting Harry … before all of this.”

Bill snorted. “It’s not first come, first serve, you dumbass. Harry is the only one she’ll ever allow in her bed … besides me, of course. And how do you think Hermione would have reacted when you told her you wanted to fuck Fleur?”

Ron’s mouth snapped shut. He had no idea what she would’ve said. In all likelihood, his body would have been buried somewhere in the orchard. 

“You think you’re the first Weasley to watch through the window?” Bill asked. He gave Ron a hard stare. “Do you think Mum and Dad don’t have their own strange secrets? Do you think Charlie doesn’t wank it to the dragon handlers? We’re a fucked-up family, mate. We always have been.” Bill’s face softened again. “But we take care of our own, and that’s what matters.”

Ron hated that it made sense. He hated the way Bill could talk him into anything, even this.

Bill stood up straight and dusted off his jeans. “Come on, then. Walk with me.” He led Ron down the narrow path, under the arching branches, and past the old garden beds and the broken fence posts. “Do you want to know the real reason I let Harry fuck my wife?” Bill asked, not even glancing at Ron.

Ron kept his head down, but nodded.

“Because she wanted him. She never flirted or did anything inappropriate, but I could tell by the way she interacted with him. I wanted to see her happy, and I wanted her to be satisfied … and because,” Bill turned suddenly, and grinned wide and wicked, “I like watching. I always have. I’m a pervert, just like you.”

Ron stopped walking. “I’m not …”

“Last night,” Bill said, “you watched till you came in your trousers. Didn’t you?”

Ron wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “Fuck off,” he mumbled.

Bill only smiled. “It’s alright. Fleur would be flattered.”

A silence stretched between them, thicker than the trees around them. Bill finally broke it. “Look. If it bothers you, if you don’t …”

“No,” Ron said, too quickly. He wasn’t sure if he meant it, but he was sure he never wanted to talk about this again. “Just … next time, close the fucking curtains.”

Bill howled with laughter, and the sound echoed through the orchard. “Deal.” They walked back to the house together. Bill slung an arm over Ron’s shoulders and squeezed him until his ribs creaked.

In the kitchen, Fleur and Hermione were already sitting at the table, arguing about the best way to poach an egg. Fleur’s hair was pulled into a loose knot, and her skin still had the glow from this morning’s activities. She winked at Bill as they entered. Ron caught the little flick of her tongue over her teeth, and the world tilted slightly.

Harry walked in a minute later, looking as happy and wholesome as ever. He smacked Ron on the arm. “Hey, mate!” he happily greeted him. Hermione looked at Harry and smiled prettily. Her cheeks had a pretty, rosy glow to them. Ron looked at Hermione’s beautiful face, and for a moment, he imagined it twisted with pleasure while Harry thrust between her spread thighs. Ron barely held back a gasp, and he quickly sat down to hide the erection that popped up like a switchblade. Needless to say, Ron was going through some things. 

Everyone sat down for breakfast, the way they always had. Plates were passed around, tea was poured into cups, and butter was smeared over toast. From outside, the orchard was quiet, and the Burrow looked peaceful and whole. The day went on as usual, and the little games they played stayed secret, for now.

After breakfast, Bill clapped Ron on the back, hard enough to rattle his bones. “You’ll get used to it,” he said, low and certain. “We always do.”