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"What the fuck is wrong with me?" George wondered from the Quidditch stands. This was Ginny's first game starting with the Holyhead Harpies and he was there to support her, as a good brother should be. He was decidedly not there to stare at Viktor Krum's arse as he flew over the field, searching for the snitch, but that seemed to be all he could do.
"Get it, Gin!" Ron shouted from his left side, so George surmised that Ginny must have the quaffle.
Sure enough, there was a flash of red hair approaching the goals. The keeper was at the far right goal so Ginny strategically threw the ball toward the far left one, hoping he'd miss it. But in the end, it really didn't matter.
Just as the quaffle left Ginny's hands, Krum streaked through the air at a near impossible speed, a blur of red against the blue sky. He flew close to Ginny – too close – and one of his broad shoulders grazed her broom bristles as he passed, sending her wobbling away until she was able to right herself. At first, George gazed after her with concern, but his attention quickly shifted when Krum shot up victoriously with the snitch fluttering in his raised fist. George caught a glimpse of Ginny's cheeks, bright red from flying or from annoyance or from a mixture of both, before his eyes were back on Krum. Merlin, the boy could fly.
Objectively, George had known that. Of course he had. He’d watched Krum catch the Snitch at the World Cup just before everything in their world had gone to shit. So there was really no question that he could fly and fly well, but it had been so long since George had really sat down to enjoy a Quidditch match. He had forgotten how exhilarating it could be to watch someone who was truly great play. That, he thought while picturing Krum's triumphant grin as he raised the snitch above his head, may need to change. He thought he could happily watch Viktor Krum play all day long.
"The Gryffins win it!" the announcer shouted excitedly. "What a game! The Harpies need to do better than that if they want to have a shot at the cup this year." George found that bit of commentary a bit unnecessary, but it wasn't as if he was wrong.
Sighing, he glanced up at Krum who was hugging his teammates triumphantly, then made his way down the steps. He needed to get to the locker rooms to see his sister. She'd probably be in need of some comfort and encouragement.
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"It was so bad!" Ginny exclaimed in the pub later that evening.
"You're not gonna win every one, Gin," Ron said. "Look at the Cannons. They don't win them all, but their time is coming. Just you wait."
"I think you mean they don't win at all," Ginny said dryly. "Comparing me to the Chudley Crappons is not the encouragement you think it is."
Ron huffed and Ginny pouted. They bickered about Quidditch teams and various players. George ran a finger through the beads of moisture gathered on the outside of his pint glass. At least their trash-talking drowned out his dark thoughts.
"I'm going for another," he said, interrupting whatever his siblings had been saying. "Anyone else want?"
Ron and Ginny both looked up at him in confusion, almost as if they'd forgotten he was there. Fine by me, George thought. He wasn't exactly contributing to the conversation in any meaningful way.
"No, mate, I'm good," Ron said.
"Same," Ginny said before turning back to Ron and continuing her rant. The last thing George heard her say before he got out of hearing range was "Viktor fucking Krum".
Leaning against the bar, George breathed out heavily and rotated his shoulders to relieve some of the tension there. He hadn't even realized he was so tense. As much as he loved his family, he didn't think he'd ever feel completely whole around them again. Not without Fred.
He nodded and raised his empty mug at the barman to indicate he wanted another then leaned forward to rest his elbows on the bar as he waited.
"Weasley?" Someone had walked up to the bar behind him and was standing beside him. Someone with a deep, friendly voice. A deep, friendly voice with a thick Belgian accent. Viktor fucking Krum, indeed.
"Yeah, I was. You were incredible,” George said, turning and grinning. "I'm George, by the way." He introduced himself automatically, knowing it was impossible for a mere acquaintance to keep all of the Weasleys straight.
Krum gave him a crooked smile, flashing straight white teeth. "I remember you,” he said. “Funny boy."
George laughed in surprise. He'd never have guessed someone like Viktor Krum would remember him. “That's me,” he said. “I'm the funny one,” decidedly not thinking about the fact that he was really just one of the funny ones, half of a broken set.
Warm brown eyes looked inquiringly back at him. "I am sorry about your brother,” he said with genuine concern, making George aware of the fact that he must not be hiding his mood as well as he thought. “Hermione is still a friend to me. She told me all that happened in the war.”
“Thank you,” George replied softly. “It's not something you can ever really get over.”
Viktor touched his shoulder lightly. “I have lost people to dark magic too. I understand your pain,” he said sincerely. “If you ever need someone to talk to, please get in touch.”
George raised his eyebrows. He had no idea why international Quidditch star Viktor Krum was taking so much interest in his feelings. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he turned on a cheeky grin. “Are you hitting on me, Mr. Krum?” he asked, his hand fluttering to his chest.
Krum gave him a full smile then. “If you are open to that, George,” he said, his brown eyes gazing into George's, “then yes. I am hitting on you.”
“Oh!” George said in surprise. That was the last thing he'd expected but he found that he was, in fact, open to it. The thought of being with Viktor broke through his dark mood in a way that little else did these days. In the way that watching the man fly had done mere hours before. Maybe, just maybe, this was a sign of better days ahead.
“You know what,” he said, touching Viktor's hand. “I am open to it. I'm very very open to it.” He grinned up at the man. “Have a drink with me?”
"Of course!” Viktor said. He handed George his beer and gestured to an empty table. George sat down.
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After settling in, they spent some time talking and getting to know one another. George had always thought of Viktor as a quiet and stoic type, but he was really warm and surprisingly funny. George found himself delighted with the man.
A few hours and a few beers later, their talking and laughter had gradually turned to innuendo and touching until the two were practically snogging across the sticky pub table. Reluctantly, George pulled back from Viktor and asked with a sly grin, “Wanna come over to my place?”
"What are we waiting for?" Viktor said, his voice husky and his accent thick as a smile played on his lips.
George glanced back at his siblings and found Ron gaping at him, his eyes wide with awe. Ginny caught his eye and happily made a rude gesture at him, her tongue poking at her cheek. Laughing, he gave them a little wave.
"Absolutely nothing," he said to Viktor, grabbing his hand with a smile and dragging him to the floo.
Slightly tipsy, George stumbled when they landed, but Viktor caught him with a strong arm around his waist. Laughing, George threw his arms around Viktor's neck and kissed him, saying, "My hero," in a teasing tone.
They fell into the room laughing, George's arm still around Viktor’s shoulders and Viktor's hand on George's arse. Then Viktor turned George to face him, sliding his other hand down to George's other arse cheek and pulled him close so their bodies, their cocks were pressed together. The laughter died on George's lips, replaced by heat and the promise of something more.
George swallowed hard. He felt his cock twitch from being so close to Viktor and his muscles. He felt wild. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to stand in the rain and lick the water droplets off of his chest. He wanted to push him against the wall and devour him. He just gazed back at Viktor and nodded, no words needed, his heart pounding with expectation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so on edge.
Viktor wasted no time. At George's nod, he closed the distance between them and pressed his mouth against George's, kissing him hard, kissing him like he'd never been kissed before. For a moment, Viktor's lips, his tongue, his body pressed against his, were the only things that existed in George's mind.
When Viktor pulled away a few too-brief moments later, he left George breathing hard and feeling almost drunk on kisses that felt so right, that felt so fucking different from anything else he'd felt in the recent past. He felt like a teenager again, intoxicated on laughter and sports and the lips of the person he was most excited by, like no disaster could touch him.
Viktor pulled back and gazed into George's eyes with such warmth, such raw affection, it made his knees go weak. "You kiss me now," Viktor said, his fingers moving to lift George’s chin, his brown eyes sweet and filled with hope. George understood his meaning; he wanted to feel the same level of passion from George that he'd given.
Immediately, George leaned forward and wrapped a hand around the back of Viktor's neck, pulling him to him, giving as good as he got. He pressed his lips to Viktor's, thrilling at the slide of their tongues together, at the sting of Viktor's hands tugging at his hair, at the electric butterflies sparking in his stomach. The taste of Viktor, the clean scent of his skin, the rasp of stubble over his skin made the butterflies go wild. It wasn't long before he found himself walking Viktor across the room, shoving him into a worn blue chair, then climbing into his lap and planting a knee on either side of his hips.
This is not how I expected today to go, George thought wildly as he kissed Viktor's mouth and slid his lips over his neck, both of their hands working to tug the other's clothes off. He had no regrets whatsoever, though. He couldn't recall a time when he felt more free and at ease with himself and his place in life. He was doing exactly and only what he wanted at that moment, nothing to hold him back, and he loved every second of it.
Both of their shirts discarded, George ran his thumb gently over Viktor's nipple, his fingers carding through the hair on his chest as he licked into his mouth. Their cocks, still restrained by their trousers, pressed together and George rocked back and forth gently, desperate for the friction of their bodies moving together. Viktor wrapped his arms around George's waist and slid his hands down the back of his pants as they kissed, pulling him in closer and grabbing his arse.
Finally Viktor pulled out of their kiss and breathlessly told George to wrap his legs around him as he stood up. "Where's the bedroom?" he asked, holding George tightly with strong arms and gasping as George sucked on an earlobe.
Once there, Viktor tossed George easily onto the bed and, before he had a chance to think, Viktor's muscular body was covering him, his hot mouth at George's throat. George wrapped his legs around the other man's hips, pulling him closer, desperate for friction. Freckled fingers twined into shaggy black hair, tugging hard as he gasped in pleasure.
Slowly, Viktor sat up and gazed down at George, his eyes bright with lust, his expression thirsty. “I'm going to ruin you, George Weasley,” he said, his accent thick and sexy. “You will never want another man.”
“Yes,” George gasped. “I want you to ruin me.” Before today, his life had felt rusty, unused. Viktor was breathing new life into him and he couldn't get enough.
A rough hand, calloused from his broomstick, ran gently down George's cheek as Viktor looked intently at him. Slowly, his hand slid from George's cheek to his neck to his chest. He flicked his thumb over George's nipple until it stood at attention then he pinched it, rolling it softly between his fingers and tugging gently at it. His other hand slid up George's side and gave his other nipple the same treatment.
It was almost torture, being teased like this, his cock throbbing and leaking inside his trousers as Viktor gazed into his eyes. He had moved back just enough that George's cock could find no friction against his body. Exquisite intimacy washed over him and he couldn't take his eyes off of Viktor. His whole world had shrunk to Viktor's dark eyes on his, to Viktor's hands playing with his nipples, to his fingers tangled in the sheets.
He whined pitifully, feeling like he could almost come just from this, when finally, finally, Viktor had mercy on him. Sliding his hands up George's chest, he leaned down again. The warm weight of his hairy chest grazed newly tender nipples sending bolts of electricity straight to George's cock.
And then Viktor's mouth was on his again. Not gentle this time, but desperate and rough. All teeth and tongues and hot skin on hot skin, they crashed together. Viktor rolled them over and sat up so that George was in his lap and they each started scrambling for the other's trousers, desperate for each other.
After some awkward fumbling, they managed to rid themselves of all clothing and fell back onto the bed laughing in joy and lust. George leaned down, his hands on Viktor's hard chest, and kissed him deeply. “Viktor,” he murmured, sliding their cocks together, “I'm going to eat you up.”
Viktor's eyes went wide with desire and he pulled George in for another hot kiss. “Do your best, funny boy,” he said cheekily, reaching down and giving George's arse a slap.
With a gasp, George kissed Viktor's neck and ran his tongue along his collar bone. He kissed his way across Viktor's hairy chest then ran his tongue around a nipple, blowing lightly on it to get it hard before biting it gently. Viktor shivered and groaned, tugging at George's hair as he licked and sucked on the hard little bud, taking his time just as Viktor had done with him.
When he couldn't wait any longer, he slid down Viktor's flat stomach and buried his nose in his public hair, breathing in his scent, admiring his thick hard cock. He grazed his cheek over his cock lightly, teasing, not giving it too much attention. Not yet.
Settling between Viktor's legs, his cock leaking on the sheets, he spread Viktor's knees and leaned down. Hands squeezing his thighs, he ran his tongue over Viktor's balls, sucking one gently into his mouth and then the other. And then he dipped his head lower.
He nibbled his way down the sensitive area below his balls then hooked Viktor's legs over his shoulders and took a moment to admire the glorious sight – the glorious feast – in front of him: Viktor Krum spread out on his bed, his perfect cock leaking against his belly, his face tense with passion. And his puckered arsehole just begging to be kissed.
Who was he to deny it? He grinned and dove in, first pressing his lips against the tight little ring then running his tongue around it. Viktor moaned and pushed back against him as he pressed his tongue against his hole. He slid the tip of his tongue in and out, then slipped a finger in beside his tongue. As he fingered Viktor's arse, he licked and sucked his rim, loving the way it clung to his finger each time he pulled out. His hungry little hole.
He pulled out for a moment to grab some lube from his bedside table, Viktor gazing hungrily at him. He squeezed some lube onto his own fingers then passed it to Viktor as he straddled his chest. “Finger me, too,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the other man. “I'm going to ride you when I'm done here.”
Viktor growled and pushed him down toward his cock, leaving his arse spread above his face. George shuddered as he felt thick slick fingers probing at his arse, but he got back to work.
His now slick fingers slipped back inside of Viktor as he finally wrapped his lips around that thick beautiful cock. His head bobbed slowly, teasingly, up and down and his fingers slowly fucked Viktor. He gasped each time his still tender nipples grazed Viktor's body. That sensation combined with the feeling of Viktor working his hole open and his delight in the perfection that was Viktor Krum let him know that he wouldn't last much longer.
Pulling away, he turned around and stradled Viktor, gazing down at him with hungry eyes. “Fill me up,” he said, lining Viktor's cock up to slide into his arse. “Ruin me,” he said, sinking down onto it.
He moaned loudly as Viktor's cock slid deep inside of him. Viktor had been right; nothing could compare to this. Viktor's thick cock stretching him open perfectly, Viktor's hard muscular body beneath him, Viktor's brown eyes gazing warmly up at him from beneath hooded eyelids. It was all Viktor, only Viktor and, in that moment, he didn't want it any other way. He rocked back and forth on his cock, and when he reached down to touch his own cock, Viktor pushed his hand away.
“Not like that,” Viktor said, his voice husky. “I want you to come on my cock alone.” He tilted his hips, sliding his cock against George's prostate and reached up, tweaking one of George nipples.
That was all it took. With a gasp, George was coming, emptying his balls onto Viktor's stomach, his arsehole spasming on Viktor's cock. With another thrust, Viktor tensed up, his hands moving to squeeze George's hips, filling George up just as he'd asked him to.
Breathing heavily, George collapsed against Viktor's chest, lazily kissing his collarbone and running his fingers through the dark hair on his chest. With the last of his energy, he fumbled for his wand and cast a cleaning charm over both of them, Viktor sighing happily as George's magic settled over him.
“Don't walk away,” George said sleepily. “Stay with me?”
“There is nowhere I'd rather stay,” Viktor replied, pressing a gentle kiss onto George's forehead and wrapping his strong arms around him as they both drifted off to sleep.