𝐑𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐬 » 𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 (ON HOLD)

13. Paint Wars

"Morning, sleepyhead."

Elle heard a low voice from beside her bed, but she rolled back over in her sheets in hopes she was still dreaming. Just moments ago, she had found herself lost in dreamland, and it had been a really good one where she was basking on a white sand beach.

"Elle, wake up. You've got five seconds— don't think I won't break out the tickle bees."

She soon realized it was George's voice that had lulled her out of her dream, but she wasn't disappointed. His voice was sweeter than any dream she would ever have.

She smiled sleepily to herself before pulling her pillow over her head and mumbling, "Go away. Just five more minutes."

"Alright," he chuckled, "you brought this on yourself, Black."

Elle waited for him to jump on her or attack her with the promised tickles, but instead, a silence filled the room and she didn't hear anything.

She lifted the pillow away from her face and glanced to where his voice had just been, surprised to find an empty bedroom. She sat up to look around, but just as she turned to the other side of the room, she saw a 6'3 redhead jumping on her.

She squealed loudly as he tackled her onto the bed and she soon felt his fingers tickling her sides and she laughed loudly, thrashing underneath his touch.

"George, stop! Stop, I'm gonna end up pissing myself, you dingus!" She pleaded for him to stop, but he continued and she let out another loud squeal as he found one of her most sensitive spots behind her knee.

"Ah, still the worst spot I see!" George exclaimed with a snarky smirk as she giggled underneath him. "What about your other most ticklish spot? Where was it again— your foot?"

He ran his hand down her leg and she kicked to get him to stop, but he continued to make his way down. "YOU TOUCH MY FOOT AND I'LL BLOODY KICK YOU, GEORGE FABIEN!"

George laughed, clearly enjoying seeing her annoyed, "I'll take my chances! I'd love to you see you try, Elora Grace!"

He grabbed her foot and tickled the bottom and she thought she was going to die. She hated having her feet touched and he knew that.

"George Fabien Weasley! You stop this or I'll—"

He released her foot and crawled on top of her, using his knee to part her legs. She swallowed hard as he hovered above her with a devilish smirk, "Or you'll what, Elle? If you haven't noticed, I'm a bit bigger than you."

He had her mesmerized just from his look alone. She was left speechless as his knee brushed along her inner thigh.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" George licked his lips and Elle nearly lost it. Fuck, why was he so hot doing the most casual things? He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he was enjoying it.

"Shut up, George. I still won't hesitate to kick you." She tried to covered her flustered state by being aggressive, but it wasn't working the way she had hoped. He had her right where he wanted her, but she really didn't mind.

"You won't do it, Black." He grinned before leaning down and kissing her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he lowered himself onto her. Talk about one hell of a wake up call.

She soon felt a hard bulge rubbing against her inner thigh and she smirked into the kiss. "Well, good morning to you too, Weasley."

Elle pressed herself upwards, urging him to add a bit more pressure, but he let out a frustrated sigh and rolled off, lying down next to her.