Greg stepped aside to let a trio of women through the door of Gringotts. It was a chilly day and he was a gentleman enough to let them in out of the cold first. They looked down their noses at him as they passed despite the fact that they'd known him since he was a tot. Apparently the battered jeans, untucked button up, skullcap, and black leather trenchcoat didn't exactly scream 'pureblood heir'. He shrugged off the snub and followed them inside. He crossed the large room to acquire a goblin escort down to the vaults. He was doing this under protest. His wanker financial advisor insisted that he had to go through his vaults immediately and had given poor River the job of getting him here. It seemed like a big waste of time. He'd rather be at the flat sleeping off his hangover.

Biting back a sigh as Griphook asked him to wait until a cart could be fetched, knowing the goblin would take offense, Fred stepped to the side so the next person in line could approach the counter. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look neutral instead of irritated, idly scanning the moderate crowd of people going about their business. He wasn't much of a people watcher, preferring to be either in or out of the action instead, but he hadn't anything better to do at the moment, or nothing that was less likely to supremely irk the goblins. They apparently weren't fond of minor explosions in the middle of their bank.


Greg nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw just who was standing by the counter. Oh, well fuck me sideways. Fred Weasley! He should have known that they would cross paths, especially after that dream last night. He wanted to demand a do over on the day. There was just no way that he wouldn't be ridiculously tongue tied and awkward. He couldn't help but stare a bit at the gorgeous redhead. Greg wanted to nibble him, but knew better than let on that he was thinking anything of the sort. Not that Fred would be offended - that is, if the rumors at Hogwarts had been true. The tight-fitting jeans only encouraged flashbacks of last night's dream. Greg groaned and struggled to appear relaxed as he stepped up and nodded to the goblin behind the counter.

"Sir," the goblin said with a slight bow. "Griphook at your service. How may I assist you?"

Greg braced for Fred's scathing comments as he replied, "Gregory Goyle, I have an appointment to take inventory of my vaults."

With a rather startled blink as someone spoke at his side, Fred glanced over, not expecting either the name or the visual that went with it. He remembered a Goyle, one of Malfoy's bookends, from school, but the bloke looking bored in the goblin's direction was nothing like the picture in his mind. For one thing, the present company was decidedly easy on the eyes, and also seemed able to string words together to form coherent sentences, which memory did not serve. He noticed that we was being watched and nodded a sort of greeting at the man, not in a frame of mind to pick a fight over grievances long since past. Merlin knew he'd changed himself since school; perhaps this Gregory Goyle rescued abandoned kneazles and carried things for old ladies.

Griphook waited until Greg handed over his key and then led the two silent men towards the tunnels. Greg did his best to keep his mind off not only the dream but the redhead next to him. When Griphook motioned for them to climb into the cart, Greg decided that he would make an attempt at civility. If only he knew what to say. He ducked his head and stepped to the side to allow Fred into the cart first. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and wanted to kick himself for it. There had to be something, some common ground between the two of them. Hell if he knew what it was...especially with the excellent view of Fred's arse. The redhead was all sorts of distracting.

Fred tried to stamp down a smirk and failed, nearly able to feel the other man's eyes on him. He dropped onto the cart's seat, feeling slightly better to know that even grumpy and tired, he still attracted attention. "I don't mind you looking, you know," he offered, the smirk curling the corner of his lips under, "but you might at least say hello, first." This was the sort of game he was good at, though it still boggled him a bit that the former Slytherin had thus far refrained from comments about his parentage or allegiance. "I caught your name already. Fred Weasley," he greeted.

Greg blinked in shock before collecting himself. He knew how to play the game as well as Fred did. He was a bit out of practice though. It looked like it was time to change that. The problem was that Fred sort of scrambled his brains. He wasn't sure he could form a coherent sentence, let alone give him a bit of his own back. He slid into the seat next to Fred and grinned. "Well then, hello, Fred Weasley." He was actually proud of himself for not having stuttered.

"Not that you can really miss the hair, I suppose," Fred allowed, wondering when this weird congeniality would break down. There were only two Goyles he'd ever heard of; one of them was dead, and the other had followed the younger Malfoy around like they were stuck together. This had to be the same person, and yet he was rather amused by flirting with the bloke. He mentally wrote it off as another manifestation of the entire world having gone completely barmy around the same time he had, and allowed his smirk to continue its curl. He hadn't missed the flash of surprise on Greg's face as he'd called him on looking, and he lounged against the side of the cart as the goblin started it moving, watching the other man as the shadows flickered over them.

Greg smirked and relaxed completely as the cart gained speed. He wasn't sure that Fred was familar with this particular set of tracks, but up ahead there was a turn that would send him flying if he didn't brace himself. It would be too interesting to see what would sort of reaction landing in Greg's lap would have for the amused looking redhead. "Still have that brilliant joke shop?" he asked, in an attempt to find even ground even if it wasn't considered flirting. He figured the next sharp curve would take care of that. He had been watching Fred closely and had noticed that he was as relaxed as he had been up at the top. He stifled a chuckle so as not to ruin a bit of wicked fun.

Remembering slightly too late that he was en route to the shop's vault instead of his own, Fred righted himself in his seat as the cart swung around a corner, the momentum sending him sliding into Greg. He snickered, giving his dignity up as lost, as he started to disentangle them. "I do, in fact, still own the Wheezes." He stilled for a moment, the mirth falling from his face as it hit him how permanent the singular was. He'd hated ever learning to refer to himself that way. Shaking his head briefly, he drummed up a smile to point out, "Don't think I've seen you in there, though, and I remember most everyone who stops by." Especially the particularly tasty ones, which means if you were there, you were invisible.

Greg didn't bother to help untangle himself and Fred, he was finding it rather fun to have a snickering redhead nearly in his lap. Besides, the next turn would send him flying into Fred's lap, so there was really no use in trying to do anything about it just yet. Then he caught the momentary flash of sorrow before Fred slammed up some sort of mask. It hit home in a big way. There was more to this particular redhead than met the eye. He'd known that in school and could see that it still applied today. He lost his twin, Greg remembered belatedly and immediately felt guilty. He'd run away after losing his parents and stayed away for years, while Fred had not only stuck around, but continued the business he and his twin had started. He also realized that he didn't like seeing the sorrow in Fred's eyes. "I used to, back in school. I have to say you made all sorts of wicked fun possible at Hogwarts. I may have to stop in sometime...that is, if I'm welcome to darken your door."

"Well, you seem to have gravitated away from Malfoy's left elbow suitably, so I don't see why not," Fred quipped, flailing slightly as the cart rounded another bend, this time sliding the both of them back toward the side he'd started on. Rolling his eyes, he muttered, "and now we know how the goblins get their kicks during the work week. Not surprised, but you'd think they'd be more creative." He wasn't really complaining about Greg being pressed shoulder-to-hip against his side, but the goblin, at least, didn't need to know that. Finally catching up to the rest of Greg's sentence, he blinked the few inches across the relative darkness, asking curiously, "Now what, praytell, did you happen to use Wheezes products for?"

Greg snickered at the goblin comment and ignored the Draco reference. He was having a bit of fun and wasn't going to ruin it by snarling. Besides, who in their right mind would snarl when Fred was practically on top of them? Do not go there, do not go there, he chanted over and over. There would be no living it down if he let his mind wander to what else they could be doing with Fred on top. Mentally slapping himself, he replied, "Terrorized anyone that harrassed those I deemed important." He paused and considered his other misdeeds. "Oh, and skived off Trelawney's class for the same sorts of fun I remember hearing that you were guilty of."

Giving up on the idea of trying to separate himself from Greg, at least until the bloody cart stopped, Fred directed his attention to deciphering the bit about skipping Trelawney's class. "Oh? What would those be? As I remember, if we... I... was skiving off Trelawney's class, it was to work on more pranks. Of course, we-" he sighed and just kept going, unable to separate the memories from George enough to not need to correct himself, "did that during class, too. I think she was usually just happy that her crystal balls weren't exploding."

Greg laughed aloud and shifted so that Fred slid a bit closer, though the move could be construed as trying to get comfortable. He wanted to keep Fred's mood light as he was really, really enjoying this trip more than he ever could have imagined. In fact, he wondered if the goblin could be talked into taking the longer route once they'd finished with Fred's vault as his was down deep, past the dragons. "Oh we heard tales of your exploits, rest assured, though that wasn't the fun I was referring to. I did use the puking pastilles more than once to get away from that hag Umbridge...and Bulstrode....come to think of it."

Fred's snicker turned into a proper laugh as he thought of the look on Umbridge's face when he and George had made their grand exit. The memory was still tinged with pain, knowing he'd never get to have another good chuckle over it with his twin, and he swallowed the lump that rose in his throat, retaining a wistful smile. "Good to know w- we were still helping thwart that bitch even when we didn't know it." He arched an eyebrow at Greg, prodding, "Well come on then, what fun were you referring to?"

Greg grinned wickedly. "Oh I think you know." He quirked up an eyebrow. "Unless of course all those rumors were lies. You know the ones...the roof of greenhouse three...the quidditch pitch...shall I go on?"

"Just checking," Fred chuckled. "And no, those are true. The one about McGonagall's classroom is true, too. Filch's office, the Potions classroom, and Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, however, are pure fiction." He wrinkled his nose. "Really... unsanitary." Thinking back to how this line of questioning had begun, he added, "And that was usually while being conveniently absent from Binns' class... we had Trelawney right after lunch that year."

Greg laughed, loudly. He remembered the one time he'd been out alone in the dungeons and gotten quite a show before he'd raced off so as not to be caught. Dare he mention that one? "Oh, my mistake. So, I take it that the one about that alcove down near Slytherin house is false too?"

Blinking because he knew there had never been a rumor about that, Fred regarded Greg quizzically for a moment, his slight frown morphing into an expression of disbelief. "The utter cheek!" he laughed, shoving Greg lightly. "We didn't know anyone was there, not until we heard someone swear down the corridor a ways..." He knew exactly the picture in Greg's head too, since he'd only visited that alcove once: he'd been on his knees in front of Lee, teaching the loud boy a bit about remaining calm under... duress. Grinning saucily, he returned his attention to Greg to ask, "So, did you enjoy the show?"

Greg's voice was full of mischief when he quipped, "Would have rather joined in actually. I just wasn't up for being hexed. It was an...informative experience. Thanks for that."

"Welcome, though I generally prefer to know when I'm performing for someone. I suppose that wouldn't have gone so well at the time, actually, so probably wise on your part." Fred shrugged, not particularly minding that he'd been watched, especially as Greg hadn't gone off to alert Snape or Filch at the time. "I was just glad it wasn't someone on patrol... would have ruined my perfect record," he said with a wink.

Greg would have replied, that was if the cart hadn't screeched to a stop. He watched as Fred climbed out of the cart.

Fred smirked to himself as he followed the goblin to the door of the Wheezes vault, still incredulous over the fact that he was flirting with a former shadow of Malfoy's and enjoying it. He'd obviously either changed drastically since school or put on a complete act the entire time, as this person was both amusing and articulate, neither of which Fred would have associated with Malfoy or anyone attached to his entourage. He nodded to the goblin as the door swung smoothly open, and stepped into the vault to add the period's profits to the neat stacks of gold already present. His other business of the day lay in the magically extending filing cabinet in one corner: the copies of notes on every product he or George had ever developed. Pulling the documentation for the finally-finished Whirlagigs from his back pocket, he filed the parchment in the 'toys' section and slid the drawer shut.

That accomplished, he paused a moment, glancing around to see if anything else struck him as a pressing need, then tucked his hands into his pockets and returned to the corridor, waiting while the goblin relocked the door and handed back his key.

Greg tracked Fred's every move, not missing a second of the excellent view. He could have watched Fred move all day long and been content. He had long ago decided that seeing what you want and going for it was the best plan. It took all his resolve not to make some outlandish proposition; he was past that, no more man-whore running about shagging every bloke or bird that caught his eye. Besides, there was something about Fred Weasley that intrigued him. Something more than the fact that he was gorgeous. There was something about the hidden darkness Greg could see behind the facade of happy-go-lucky prankster that begged attention.

Returning to the cart and hopping nimbly over Greg's knees, Fred dropped back into his seat - correctly this time, though the sliding had been fun - and turned to face Greg. "Onward and... well, all right, downward, but you get the idea. Inventorying your vaults, was it?" he asked, wondering what would prompt such an action. He saw the contents of his own vault and the shop's fairly regularly; the only reason he could think of for Greg to need an inventory was if he'd inherited something or had been out of the country.

Greg caught the unspoken question and decided to answer it. "I was out of the country for years; apparently an inventory is necessary. I do hope you aren't bored as it will take some time."

"Well, that depends. Am I allowed to distract you in the process or do I have to entertain myself?" Fred cheeked, raising an eyebrow in question. He had some ideas for either option, but the former would be decidedly more interesting for him. "Years? That's some holiday, though I imagine it wasn't all pleasure, unless you've got someone managing for you." He was aware that he was being nosy, but figured since they'd just finished discussing his sex life at school, it was only fair.

Greg's brows rose in surprise and maybe a bit of shock as well. Fred was actually sounding interested? Maybe this was another dream he would wake from all sweaty and unsatisfied. He dearly hoped that this wasn't a dream; he couldn't wake up like that twice in a row and live to tell the tale. He decided a bit of honesty wouldn't go amiss. "I was in America, travelling. As for the inventory, my wanker financial advisor insists on it." He shrugged. "As for the choices, I have to go with the first."

His teeth bared in a wicked little grin, Fred consented, "Excellent. I'm quite good at amusing myself, mind, but it seems a shame when there's company." Backtracking to the other part of Greg's answer, he tipped his head to the side, curious. "What was that like? I've never been." He was mildly surprised to find that he genuinely wanted to know; small talk was easy, but he got the feeling there was some other reason for an extended stay outside of Britain. Not that he followed the news overly, as it was generally complete crap, but he hadn't heard anything about most of his schoolmates in years, aside from Harry, Ron, or Hermione, on whom there was always some ridiculous bit of nonsense.

Greg sighed, tackling the second part before even attempting a comeback at the first. "Big, really big. There are cities that make London look like a village and yet wide open spaces that go on for ages." He smirked. "It doesn't rain endlessly there either, well not everywhere at least."

"That'd be a change... a friend of mine spent the summer in Italy and said it was sunny nearly the whole time. Wouldn't know. I haven't left the country since..." Fred bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head to clear the image from his head; himself and George clowning around at that villa in Portugal, a quick lark in the midst of the dread surrounding the war. He shrugged, finally, forcing the corners of his lips up into something like a smile. "It's been a while, anyway. So, how much inventory are we talking about? If it's enough to require an advisor, I think I might need a nap."

Snickering, Greg shot him a look that wouldn't be misinterpreted. He wanted to remove whatever had caused Fred pain if only for a moment. He was nearly purring when he said, "Oh really, all alone? Pity, that."

"While that wouldn't accomplish your inventory, I don't recall saying that it would be alone," Fred returned pointedly, one side of his mouth pulling into a crooked smirk. "Though I can't say I fancy the idea of our current audience." This he could do; it had always been his edge in this game, to be willing to fulfill his bluffs, and having a bit of fun with Greg would be no hardship if it came to that. By this point he'd given up on figuring out the former Slytherin's apparent disregard for the 'rules' his family had followed - whatever choices he'd made since school seemed to be a vast improvement, and Fred wasn't about to ignore the fact that the cart ride thus far had been more fun than he'd had, without interference from one of the girls, in a while.

Greg laughed and cocked his head, seriously considering the feasibility of sending Griphook away while he 'took inventory', and he wasn't thinking about the contents of his vault either- more like the contents of Fred's trousers. He rather wondered if Fred would mind if they booted the goblin and finished this little game they were playing. "Well at least that wasn't an outright no."

Fred's eyebrows rose in surprise at Greg's doubt. "Did you think there would be? I've already named my only objection," he pointed out, letting Greg interpret the statement as he would. It was interesting, though, that he'd been concerned about Fred's reaction; he wouldn't have guessed someone with so much tease to them would worry over one person's opinion.

Greg turned to Griphook. "Mr. Weasley will assist me, Griphook. You can leave us and return in...three hours?" He shot a questioning look Fred's way and waited.

Turning a serene face to Greg and the goblin who was regarding them appraisingly, Fred nodded as if this were quite a normal occurrence and said, politely, to Griphook, "If that won't interfere with your schedule, of course. I haven't any other plans for the evening."

Greg grinned, this he could deal with. "If I did, they've changed now." He turned to Griphook just as the cart slowed to a stop. "We'll ring for you when the inventory is complete."

Quashing a smirk as the goblin nodded in assent, Fred waited for Greg to exit the cart and followed, standing aside as the vault's heavy door was opened. He peered inside curiously, biting his lip to keep the leer that was wanting to form off of his face for the moment. He had ideas, and they didn't involve giving the game away too early.

Greg stepped into the vault, stripping off his coat and tossing it over one of the small tables on the left. Keeping his back to Fred, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and waved off Griphook. He considered taking the button up off as well, but figured he would leave that to Fred. With a wicked grin, he dropped into the armchair next to the desk. He was fully prepared to wait Fred out. He waved towards the chair on the other side of the desk. "Have a seat?"

"Sure," Fred agreed, stepping across the vault to slide into the chair Greg indicated. He'd briefly considered taking his 'seat' on his knees in front of Greg, just for the reaction, but decided to postpone the satisfaction there a while longer. "So, how does one go about inventorying such a vault?" he asked, eyes scanning the room they occupied and wondering what exactly the task would entail, besides his obvious plan of distracting Greg at every possible turn. He'd watched the muscles bunch in Greg's forearms as the coat and sleeves had been taken care of, and was on the verge of daydream over how much teasing it would take for him to put that strength to good use.

Greg smirked; he knew they were both playing the same game. He stood slowly, fluidly and began unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom up. As each button was released, he glanced at Fred, his eyes half closed and a sly little smile on his face. "Well, first we take stock, then go from there."

It took effort, but Fred refused to be mesmerized by the slow tease of buttons being undone; he watched, face a mask of polite interest, but didn't move except to tip his chair back onto two legs, balancing with the toe of his shoe against the edge of the desk. "Stock, then. Everything in the room, or more specific than that? Is there already a list, or are we making one?" Rather be making a map, he thought, as enough of the shirt was unbuttoned to show off Greg's perfect abs. Preferably with my mouth.

Greg flicked the last button free, still watching Fred for any sign of weakness as he planted his hands on the desk and leaned over. He dropped his voice down to a soft, husky whisper as he said, "Well that would depend on you. The inventory can start anywhere you'd like."

Widening his eyes just slightly, leaving the rest of his face pleasantly neutral, grateful for all the practice Snape's otherwise useless class had afforded him in this skill, Fred's lips pulled to the side a bit, thoughtful. "The desk is probably a good idea... usually full of all the important papers and such." He pushed himself a fraction farther away, just at the edge of where the chair would balance properly.

Greg grinned, shoving the ledgers off the side of the desk. He hopped up to sit on the desk, back to Fred as he shrugged out of his shirt, revealing the large black and grey tattoo that covered the upper half of his back. He peeked over his shoulder, his hair falling in his eyes. "The desk it is, then."

"A raven?" Fred asked, curious as to the logic there, as he knew full well Greg had been in Slytherin. He let his chair fall forward with a quiet 'thunk', losing his facade of disinterest, only just stopping himself from reaching out to trace the lines of dark ink. "This might take three hours, you know," he warned, voice gone low. "You'd have to come back."

Greg leaned within touching distance, having spotted Fred's instinctive motion to touch the tattoo. He laughed lightly. "Only if you come too."

"What if I have other plans?" Fred taunted. He rose to his feet, bracing his hands on the desk to either side of Greg's body, carefully not touching, and leaned down to look more closely at the tattoo. His breath ghosted over the ink-tinted skin as he followed the lines of the bird with his eyes, curiosity winning out again after a long moment. "Didn't that hurt?"

Greg shivered; Fred's breath was wrecking havoc on his body. He wanted to jump Fred badly and was just about out of patience and restraint. "I don't mind a bit of pain, so long as I'm satisfied in the end."

Smiling as he moved a bit closer, enjoying the twitch he'd earned, Fred murmured, "Good to know... Will keep it in mind." He lowered his mouth to hover fractions of an inch above Greg's skin, flicking his tongue out to taste the edge of the raven's wing.

Greg leaned into Fred with a low groan. "Yes, do keep that in mind." He reached back and tugged Fred closer, utterly and completely unable to do anything else. He'd been playing the game- teasing and taunting- but the game was done. He groaned a second time as Fred's tongue continued its lazy pattern across his back.

Fred traced the raven's outline in long, light licks, trailing his lips up Greg's shoulder once he reached the place where he'd started. He caught a band of muscle there between his teeth and tugged, smirking against the warm skin as the action provoked a hiss of indrawn breath. Soothing the sting with his tongue, he slid his hands across the tabletop and up to rest at Greg's hips.

Greg let his head fall back onto Fred's shoulder. He didn't usually give up control of anything this easily, there was just something about Fred that made it okay. What the hell is going on lately? He realized a second later that it didn't matter, that the only thing that mattered was what Fred was doing with his tongue. His hands dropped to cover Fred's, squeezing lightly.

Taking advantage of Greg's acceptance, that motion of surrender exposing the long, corded column of his neck, Fred licked a wet path from the nibble of flesh he'd taken up to Greg's ear. He teased the hollow just behind his earlobe, tongue probing the spot, raising his head the tiniest bit to breathe, warm and wicked across the shell of Greg's ear, "I win," before nipping here and there at the outer spiral of cartilage.

Greg groaned, his back arching instinctively. Who cares if he won? We'll both win when it's all said and done. His hands cuffed Fred's wrists loosely, not as a sign of dominance but more of an acceptance...a sign that he wasn't going to back out, that he'd let Fred have the lead...the power...everything.

A low growl trickled from Fred's throat as he felt Greg's hands circle his wrists. He'd expected a struggle, for their tease to end up with one of them pressed against the wall after a snapping of will; this yielding gave him a sharp thrill of triumph, sparking along his veins. He left Greg's ear with a last nibble, tongue flicking along the strong jaw until he felt the dance of pulse under his lips. He set his teeth in the flesh around the caged, jumping thing, holding there long enough to leave a memory.

Oh Gods, oh Merlin...just oh... All Greg could do was sink back against Fred. Do that again, was all he could think.

Releasing the now-faster tempo from between his teeth before he broke the skin, Fred's grin of pleasure became another bite, slightly lower. He felt the tension leave Greg's neck as he captured another cord of muscle, and filed the information away for the time being, more interested in the moment to see how much it would take to make him react. Letting his hands drift upward from their hold at Greg's hips, he traced the perfect tone of muscle that had fascinated him earlier, mapping the skin with his fingertips.

Greg's breath hitched at the feel of Fred's hands skimming across his stomach. He wanted to turn and slam Fred against the wall...too bad he'd given up the control. As it was he was helpless. He would have to wait for Fred's next move no matter how badly he wanted to lick, nibble and suck every part of Fred he could. He wanted...oh how he wanted...to leave a mark on Fred, some sign that he'd been here that this wasn't just another dream. This, right here, was the first time he'd not felt numb since returning to Britain. A flash of blonde hair and a pixie-type laugh flashed through his head and he ruthlessly pushed it away as impossible. He needed this. He needed the aches, the marks, the memory. He needed the reminder of who he was, what he was...that this was all he was capable of...all he deserved. "More," he finally whispered.

Pleased and impressed by Greg's self control, Fred nipped a path along the back of his neck, hands coming up and tugging the knit cap off so that he could wrap his fingers in Greg's hair. Tilting the dark head to the side, he pressed warm, slow kisses along the unmarked skin, waiting until he reached the curve between neck and shoulder to give Greg what he wanted, burying his teeth in the muscled flesh just shy of drawing blood. His hands trailed from the now-tousled hair down to toned shoulders, prompting Greg to turn and face him as Fred freed his hold on the abused skin of Greg's neck.

Greg nearly melted into a puddle of lust right there on the desk. The wounds on his neck were aching in a way that nearly broke his control. Fuck, I've missed this...more...more...more was his only thought as his head dropped onto Fred's shoulder, his mouth close enough to bite and yet he resisted. He slid forward just enough to press his bare chest against Fred's regrettably still-clad torso. "You like?" he whispered, knowing what his breath against Fred's neck would do.

"Yes," Fred hissed, giving Greg the satisfaction of an answer, though he was sure it was a rhetorical question. "You're being very well behaved," he taunted, pushing Greg away enough to get rid of his own shirt, gritting his teeth as they came back together, skin to skin. One hand played over Greg's shoulder, purposely brushing the bruising mark he'd left, moving up to tangle in the dark hair once more, pulling Greg's head back so that their eyes met for a moment. Sporting a slightly vicious grin for just a heartbeat, he closed the distance between them and crushed his lips to Greg's, the kiss only as gentle as the rest of their contact had been.

Coherent thought, what was left of it, fled Greg's mind as he lost himself in the kiss. His hands gripped Fred's waist and then slid upward, his nails scraping lightly on their path up Fred's back. He wanted desperately to bury his hands in Fred's hair, and grasped his shoulders for a moment before doing just that. He yanked, just hard enough to give him access to Fred's neck. Breaking the kiss, he nipped along Fred's jawline in a slow path towards his goal.

Enjoying what Greg was doing a little too much to be really irritated that he was being disobedient, Fred snarled a soft warning, holding himself very still. "Maybe I spoke too soon," he admonished, tightening his grip in Greg's hair. He wasn't sure whether he'd prefer Greg to listen or to ignore him; either option held promising possibilities.

Greg chuckled lightly just before he bit down hard enough to return the favor, leaving a mark at the point where Fred's neck met his shoulder. Once he was satisfied that Fred was properly marked and his mind was screaming mine, he pulled back and whispered, "I can go back to behaving if you'd like."

Fred tensed as Greg's teeth marred his skin, not entirely able to suppress a shudder of pleasure. "I ought to leave you here, right now," he threatened in a low murmur, catching Greg's gaze to watch a brief glint of worry flicker there. "That was naughty." He paused to lean in and lick across Greg's lower lip, drawing back a fraction to whisper, "But I liked it, so I think you'll just owe me for it."

Greg snickered after banishing his momentary panic. If Fred got up and left then he would lose the one thing he was good at...good for... "Leaving would leave us both in a bad place, yeah? As for owing, you might need to start a list."

"Why do I get the feeling I'd lose count in fairly short order?" Fred wondered aloud, wiping away a smirk against Greg's lips as he resumed the kiss that had been broken. His free hand wandered over Greg's chest, catching a nipple in a quick pinch before moving to trace his gorgeous stomach, fingers sliding over the firm skin.

Greg arched his back, leaning into Fred's touch. He tightened his grip on Fred's hair as pulled away to murmur, "'Cause it's the truth."

"Don't care right now," Fred admitted, tugging free from Greg's hands and shoving him back onto the desk, hopping up to straddle his hips, kneeling over him. Grinning predatorily at the temporary look of surprise on Greg's face, Fred braced himself on his hands and lowered his mouth to the chest that had been distracting him since Greg had started unbuttoning that damned shirt. His lips found a nipple, the same one he'd pinched, tongue flicking out to join the tease.

Greg decided right then and there that he would be keeping Fred as long as Fred would allow it. He reached up and tangled one hand in Fred's hair while his other hand gripped the edge of the desk. He was hoping, praying, nearly begging that Fred's mouth would keep moving lower. "Me either," was all he could manage.

Humming his agreement against Greg's skin, Fred focused his attention on the expanse of muscle finally under his lips, licking and nipping his way over Greg's abs. He adjusted his balance, moving lower and freeing his hands to stroke lightly, teasingly, down Greg's sides, fingertips dipping under the waist of his trousers before making quick work of the studded black belt impeding his desired progress.

Greg lifted his hips, still gripping Fred's hair. He couldn't seem to form words. All he could think was to do something...anything to encourage Fred. Words just weren't possible right now. All he could think of was finishing what they'd started and then doing it all over again and again until both of them were exhausted. Oh Gods.

"Impatient," Fred murmured, though he was smiling as he said it. He decided to oblige Greg, flicking open the button and zip on his trousers and pulling them off over his hips, pleased to note no further clothing between himself and his plan to make Greg see stars. Opting to be a complete bastard, just for a moment, he backed away down Greg's body, divesting him of shoes and trousers entirely. He paused to look up the line of the man laid out before him, enjoying the view, before crawling slowly into position, eyes locked with Greg's. He settled himself close enough to watch his breath ghosting over Greg's erection make the other man twitch, a wicked smile gracing his lips as he pointed out, "You've only gotten to watch me do this before..."

Greg groaned, gripping the desk with one hand and kicking his head back against the smooth wood. There wasn't a damn thing he could do at this point but go with whatever plan Fred was teasing him with. If Fred kept teasing, then his brain might just melt. In the back of his head was a small, rather incoherent voice that said he is going to pay for this...later.

Relenting as Greg forced himself not to thrash in anticipation, Fred slid his hands up Greg's tense thighs, dipping his head to circle his tongue around the crown of the erection demanding his attention. He knew better than to tease for too long, licking lightly a few moments as a last bit of torment, then sealing his lips around the shaft and plunging down, swallowing until his lips met Greg's body.

Greg's hips bucked up on instinct alone as some part of his brain registered how good Fred's mouth felt while the rest of him melted into a puddle. His hand twined in the hair at the nape of Fred's neck and clenched, hard. It took every last bit of his strength not to thrust his hips up and take control of the situation. He didn't usually bottom for anyone, ever...well except that one time with...He groaned and tried to remind himself that just because he didn't bottom, that didn't mean he was ignorant of the rules. Granted, rules he'd already broken...

Hyperaware of how much it was killing Greg to hold still, knowing that their places could easily have been switched, Fred growled low around the warm flesh filling his mouth, something between acquiescence and a warning as he drew lips and tongue back up Greg's length. The sharp pain of Greg's grip his hair made it a bit more difficult to concentrate than he'd like, but he was determined to shake the discipline of the man beneath him, to watch him throw control away for a moment and enjoy it. The time for teasing was over, and he found the rhythm Greg's hips kept trying to twitch him into, fingers gripping at the muscled thighs under his hands.

Greg's grip tightened as Fred found his rhythm. His mind was screaming, oh gods, more, more, more. All he could do was hold on tight and enjoy. He fully intended on returning the favor very, very soon. He growled as Fred did something wicked with his tongue and bucked his hips up, unable to stop himself. His control was gone. Mineminemine


{Summary: Greg runs into Fred at Gringotts. They end up taking inventory... sort of.}