(no subject)
This is for sociofemme, who's having A Week. She wanted triosmut. I thought for a bit perhaps I'd shorted out my smut muse on the pornish_pixies thing yesterday, but then it came back. Yay.
Anyway. 1600 words, PWP, NC17, involves voyeurism, wanking, triosex, and uncertainty. :)
He heard them come in, whispering and giggling and obviously both drunk. Obviously, because the odds of Head Girl Hermione coming into the seventh-year Gryffindor boys’ dormitory at …he squinted at the clock. At two-forty a.m., Saturday morning in Winter Break or not, were slim, if she were not under the influence of something. He wondered how he’d got her to take the first drink; they’d learned, over the last year or so, that getting her started was the hard part, but that once she’d had a couple, they had to watch her rather carefully as inhibitions flew and she’d cheerfully drink herself quite sick.
He rolled over, not being especially careful to be quiet; they were making noise enough to wake Snape from here, after all. He could see them, rolling around on his bed, completely insensible of the presence, or, in this case, absence, of the curtains, apparently unaware he could see them quite well through the four-inch gap in his own. If they were going to keep him up-they’d even lit the sodding lamp!-he might as well get a show out of it.
Hermione giggled, ending with a very unladylike snort, and kissed her way down, down, until she ran into Harry’s waistband, pressed taut by the bulging cock inside. With fingers surprisingly nimble for someone as obviously far gone as she, she unhooked his trousers and freed him, not bothering to move the clothing any further out of the way than absolutely necessary before putting out her tongue to swipe crookedly at his twitching erection. Damn; she had her skirt hiked up around her waist and her fingers between her legs, slipping under the knickers, pressing into herself with the same urgency as that with which she was now engulfing his cock.
Fuck that. If he was going to have to stay here in detention on a sodding Friday night while they hared off to get drunk in town, and then they were going to be so rude as to practically fuck still dressed four feet away from him, he was damn well at least going to get a good wank out of it. Ron pushed his pyjama bottoms down and gripped his cock, squeezing for a moment, closing his eyes, feeling his hand, listening to the two of them over there, staying still until all at once he began to thrust involuntarily into his fist. He raised his other hand to his mouth to bite the knuckles as he opened his eyes and turned his head back to watch his best mate’s cock now sliding in and out as Hermione straddled him, skirt still hiked around her waist so he could see her knickers still on and simply pushed to the side, elastic pressing inward and sticking slightly, wetly, to the cock with each slide out, until the pull of the elastic overrode the pull of friction and it snapped back to slap her lightly.
Suddenly, he realized they were both watching him as they fucked. Watching him, stone cold sober.
Fuck. He impulsively closed his eyes and feigned sleep. It was no good.
Harry spoke first. “You win.”
Ron’s eyes popped open. “What?”
Harry was looking at Hermione. “She thought you’d watch and wank. I defended you, mate. Said you’d unfortunately probably learned to ignore such things with all those brothers.”
Ron swallowed; Harry was telling him this whilst still lazily pressing up into Hermione, who was busily pulling her jumper over her head. “Right. So you’re not drunk, you’re fucking in front of me for a bet, and you think I’m made of fucking stone. Lovely.”
“Damn. She wins again. She said you’d be hurt; I said you’d think it was funny. We just thought you'd start talking if you didn't think we were loaded. Did I fail to mention we want you to get out of your damn bed and get over here?”
“I’m not hurt,” Ron said icily.
Hermione put on her best long-suffering face as she looked over her shoulder, still sliding up and down Harry’s thick shaft. “Ronald Weasley. Come over here.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Do I look like your mother?”
“Fuck. Don’t say that. No.”
“And do you in fact want to join us?”
Ron grimaced. “You seem to be doing fine.”
Harry rolled them over and pressed a quick warm kiss on Hermione’s lips, then crawled off of her and immediately crawled into Ron’s bed, still hard, sticky-wet from Hermione, and unerringly grasped Ron’s erection as he kissed his friend thoroughly.
“Mmph.”
Harry pulled back. “What? We weren’t kidding. Look.”
Ron pushed up on his elbows to peer over Harry’s shoulder. “Holy shit.” Hermione had gone ahead and got rid of the rest of her clothes and was propped against pillows, watching the two of them, two fingers inside herself, worrying at the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth. He returned his focus to Harry, who was obviously still just as hard as he was and who was currently rubbing his cock roughly against Ron’s leg. “How…what. Um.” He lowered his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
Harry hooked a knuckle under Ron’s chin. “Whatever you want. We trust you.”
“Such as what?”
“…You want limits or suggestions?”
“Both. Either. What…” Ron trailed off, feeling heat suffusing his cheeks, knowing he matched the curtains.
“I don’t know that we have limits, as long as you’ll stop if one of us says to. You could, oh…I could do this,” Harry leaned across Ron’s belly and down to suck just the tip of him between his lips, which Ron thought muzzily might be enough to make him come right there. “Or you could do that to me. Or her. You could let her ride you while I get behind her. Or the other way round. Or…”
“Merlin.”
“We’ve given this some thought, you know. We’ve felt bad excluding you-no, it’s not a pity thing. It just took us a while to tumble to the notion that this didn’t have to be a two-player game.”
“Shit.”
Harry smirked. “Okay, that really would be off limits.”
“What…Oh. Oh! I. Fuck.”
“Better. Here or there?” Harry nodded at his own bed, where Hermione was pointedly watching Harry’s arse, once again flexing and relaxing as he gently, absently rubbed Ron’s thigh once more.
“Um. Here. Can you…”
“Can I what?” Harry rolled toward Ron, pressing their lips together again.
“Can I. I don’t want to...”
“You want to fuck me.”
“I.”
“Shh.” Harry looked back at Hermione, who was already walking naked toward them. He stood and removed his trousers and pants the rest of the way, then straddled Ron, who managed to look both eager and petrified at once. He rested on his friend’s chest, pressing their cocks together, pulling Ron’s lower lip between his teeth to nip gently, easing Ron’s startled jump when Hermione reached between Harry’s thighs and coated Ron’s cock with oil, and when Harry involuntarily ground their cocks together as she prepared him. “Okay?”
Ron’s eyes were huge and glistening as he nodded, and Harry lifted up and slid onto his friend slowly. “Oh. Shit. Oh fuckingfuck. Merlin, Harry. So. Gah--” he closed his eyes once more, trailing off incoherently as Harry rocked his hips.
He opened them again when Hermione’s slight weight dipped the mattress just a bit, and found her face inches from his own, then pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his lips. “Do you mind,” she said, nuzzling his ear, “If I-“ she pointed, and he caught his breath sharply.
“No. No, I don’t mind.”
She grinned and pulled back, studying. “I think… Ron, you’ll need to sit up a bit, against the headboard. Well. You don’t have to, but it might be easier.” Ron pushed up on his elbows, then his hands, once more, and, bending his legs to push, lifted both of them up and back thrusting unbearably deep in Harry as he did and then relaxing, panting, against the headboard.
Hermione straddled him promptly, between them, facing Harry, lowering herself slowly, backside rubbing against Ron’s muscular belly, legs wrapping around Harry’s hips as he bore most of her weight, pushing him further down onto Ron, who wondered whether it were possible to actually lose consciousness from euphoric fucking. Harry’s rocking changed subtly as he thrust into Hermione, as her buttocks pressed into Ron, as he held his breath, pushing and pushing and ohfuck, feeling Harry squeeze around him as he watched his friend’s face contort, and then oh, watching and feeling Hermione’s backside squeezing as she was coming and then he was and ohfuck. They all collapsed in an untidy pile on Ron’s tangled sheets, grinning and gasping.
Harry regained his breath first. “Hermione, either you have to give us the password to your room, or you have to figure a way for the rest not to hear us, because if that was any indication, fuck. I am definitely not going the rest of my life without doing that again. Hell, I don’t want to go the rest of the weekend.”
Hermione grinned and kissed him on the cheek then turned round to kiss Ron soundly on the mouth, then grab his wand from the bedside table to clean them up. She slipped her arms around his waist and he found himself cuddling her into his side, Harry pressed against her back, Ron’s fingers tangled in his hair.
Anyway. 1600 words, PWP, NC17, involves voyeurism, wanking, triosex, and uncertainty. :)
He heard them come in, whispering and giggling and obviously both drunk. Obviously, because the odds of Head Girl Hermione coming into the seventh-year Gryffindor boys’ dormitory at …he squinted at the clock. At two-forty a.m., Saturday morning in Winter Break or not, were slim, if she were not under the influence of something. He wondered how he’d got her to take the first drink; they’d learned, over the last year or so, that getting her started was the hard part, but that once she’d had a couple, they had to watch her rather carefully as inhibitions flew and she’d cheerfully drink herself quite sick.
He rolled over, not being especially careful to be quiet; they were making noise enough to wake Snape from here, after all. He could see them, rolling around on his bed, completely insensible of the presence, or, in this case, absence, of the curtains, apparently unaware he could see them quite well through the four-inch gap in his own. If they were going to keep him up-they’d even lit the sodding lamp!-he might as well get a show out of it.
Hermione giggled, ending with a very unladylike snort, and kissed her way down, down, until she ran into Harry’s waistband, pressed taut by the bulging cock inside. With fingers surprisingly nimble for someone as obviously far gone as she, she unhooked his trousers and freed him, not bothering to move the clothing any further out of the way than absolutely necessary before putting out her tongue to swipe crookedly at his twitching erection. Damn; she had her skirt hiked up around her waist and her fingers between her legs, slipping under the knickers, pressing into herself with the same urgency as that with which she was now engulfing his cock.
Fuck that. If he was going to have to stay here in detention on a sodding Friday night while they hared off to get drunk in town, and then they were going to be so rude as to practically fuck still dressed four feet away from him, he was damn well at least going to get a good wank out of it. Ron pushed his pyjama bottoms down and gripped his cock, squeezing for a moment, closing his eyes, feeling his hand, listening to the two of them over there, staying still until all at once he began to thrust involuntarily into his fist. He raised his other hand to his mouth to bite the knuckles as he opened his eyes and turned his head back to watch his best mate’s cock now sliding in and out as Hermione straddled him, skirt still hiked around her waist so he could see her knickers still on and simply pushed to the side, elastic pressing inward and sticking slightly, wetly, to the cock with each slide out, until the pull of the elastic overrode the pull of friction and it snapped back to slap her lightly.
Suddenly, he realized they were both watching him as they fucked. Watching him, stone cold sober.
Fuck. He impulsively closed his eyes and feigned sleep. It was no good.
Harry spoke first. “You win.”
Ron’s eyes popped open. “What?”
Harry was looking at Hermione. “She thought you’d watch and wank. I defended you, mate. Said you’d unfortunately probably learned to ignore such things with all those brothers.”
Ron swallowed; Harry was telling him this whilst still lazily pressing up into Hermione, who was busily pulling her jumper over her head. “Right. So you’re not drunk, you’re fucking in front of me for a bet, and you think I’m made of fucking stone. Lovely.”
“Damn. She wins again. She said you’d be hurt; I said you’d think it was funny. We just thought you'd start talking if you didn't think we were loaded. Did I fail to mention we want you to get out of your damn bed and get over here?”
“I’m not hurt,” Ron said icily.
Hermione put on her best long-suffering face as she looked over her shoulder, still sliding up and down Harry’s thick shaft. “Ronald Weasley. Come over here.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Do I look like your mother?”
“Fuck. Don’t say that. No.”
“And do you in fact want to join us?”
Ron grimaced. “You seem to be doing fine.”
Harry rolled them over and pressed a quick warm kiss on Hermione’s lips, then crawled off of her and immediately crawled into Ron’s bed, still hard, sticky-wet from Hermione, and unerringly grasped Ron’s erection as he kissed his friend thoroughly.
“Mmph.”
Harry pulled back. “What? We weren’t kidding. Look.”
Ron pushed up on his elbows to peer over Harry’s shoulder. “Holy shit.” Hermione had gone ahead and got rid of the rest of her clothes and was propped against pillows, watching the two of them, two fingers inside herself, worrying at the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth. He returned his focus to Harry, who was obviously still just as hard as he was and who was currently rubbing his cock roughly against Ron’s leg. “How…what. Um.” He lowered his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”
Harry hooked a knuckle under Ron’s chin. “Whatever you want. We trust you.”
“Such as what?”
“…You want limits or suggestions?”
“Both. Either. What…” Ron trailed off, feeling heat suffusing his cheeks, knowing he matched the curtains.
“I don’t know that we have limits, as long as you’ll stop if one of us says to. You could, oh…I could do this,” Harry leaned across Ron’s belly and down to suck just the tip of him between his lips, which Ron thought muzzily might be enough to make him come right there. “Or you could do that to me. Or her. You could let her ride you while I get behind her. Or the other way round. Or…”
“Merlin.”
“We’ve given this some thought, you know. We’ve felt bad excluding you-no, it’s not a pity thing. It just took us a while to tumble to the notion that this didn’t have to be a two-player game.”
“Shit.”
Harry smirked. “Okay, that really would be off limits.”
“What…Oh. Oh! I. Fuck.”
“Better. Here or there?” Harry nodded at his own bed, where Hermione was pointedly watching Harry’s arse, once again flexing and relaxing as he gently, absently rubbed Ron’s thigh once more.
“Um. Here. Can you…”
“Can I what?” Harry rolled toward Ron, pressing their lips together again.
“Can I. I don’t want to...”
“You want to fuck me.”
“I.”
“Shh.” Harry looked back at Hermione, who was already walking naked toward them. He stood and removed his trousers and pants the rest of the way, then straddled Ron, who managed to look both eager and petrified at once. He rested on his friend’s chest, pressing their cocks together, pulling Ron’s lower lip between his teeth to nip gently, easing Ron’s startled jump when Hermione reached between Harry’s thighs and coated Ron’s cock with oil, and when Harry involuntarily ground their cocks together as she prepared him. “Okay?”
Ron’s eyes were huge and glistening as he nodded, and Harry lifted up and slid onto his friend slowly. “Oh. Shit. Oh fuckingfuck. Merlin, Harry. So. Gah--” he closed his eyes once more, trailing off incoherently as Harry rocked his hips.
He opened them again when Hermione’s slight weight dipped the mattress just a bit, and found her face inches from his own, then pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his lips. “Do you mind,” she said, nuzzling his ear, “If I-“ she pointed, and he caught his breath sharply.
“No. No, I don’t mind.”
She grinned and pulled back, studying. “I think… Ron, you’ll need to sit up a bit, against the headboard. Well. You don’t have to, but it might be easier.” Ron pushed up on his elbows, then his hands, once more, and, bending his legs to push, lifted both of them up and back thrusting unbearably deep in Harry as he did and then relaxing, panting, against the headboard.
Hermione straddled him promptly, between them, facing Harry, lowering herself slowly, backside rubbing against Ron’s muscular belly, legs wrapping around Harry’s hips as he bore most of her weight, pushing him further down onto Ron, who wondered whether it were possible to actually lose consciousness from euphoric fucking. Harry’s rocking changed subtly as he thrust into Hermione, as her buttocks pressed into Ron, as he held his breath, pushing and pushing and ohfuck, feeling Harry squeeze around him as he watched his friend’s face contort, and then oh, watching and feeling Hermione’s backside squeezing as she was coming and then he was and ohfuck. They all collapsed in an untidy pile on Ron’s tangled sheets, grinning and gasping.
Harry regained his breath first. “Hermione, either you have to give us the password to your room, or you have to figure a way for the rest not to hear us, because if that was any indication, fuck. I am definitely not going the rest of my life without doing that again. Hell, I don’t want to go the rest of the weekend.”
Hermione grinned and kissed him on the cheek then turned round to kiss Ron soundly on the mouth, then grab his wand from the bedside table to clean them up. She slipped her arms around his waist and he found himself cuddling her into his side, Harry pressed against her back, Ron’s fingers tangled in his hair.