Summary: Freckles and a Ravenclaw skirt. (PWP)
Rating: NC-17ish (cross-dressing, incest)
Word Count: 306
A/N: for fivil because apparently she wanted porn the last time around. :P
You touch, you touch, and you can’t stop because he is all smooth freckled skin and rough material of that skirt, that skirt you swiped from the Ravenclaw girls’ laundry and is now hiked up around his waist. The blue and coppery threads weave together and it’s scratchy and perfect under your fingers as you pull at the waistband.
He pulls you down onto the mattress – your bed, maybe it’s Lee’s; you are too drunk around the eyes on the heat of his stare to know. His cheeks are flushed and yours must be too and your skin feels hot when you grind against him, against his thighs and his cock and the skirt that ripples in checkers of blue plaid, blue like his eyes when the light hits them at just the right time of day.
He spreads his legs now, muscles cording and strong and tight like your own, and your eyes trace the freckles on the inside of his thigh, mentally connecting them, tattooing your brother’s body with the kisses you long to place there.
Arch. Kiss. Lips meet and skin collides and muscles press and balk and release. And he calls your name in the instant you gasp his. The syllables mingle together so that they’re just sounds. There is no you or him, there is just the pulse of still-tense breath around you as you tremor and tremble and his arms loop around your neck. When the bedsheets tangle between your feet, there is no I.
No one could tell you two apart anyway.
And it doesn’t matter, because there is a we.