Now that the cat's out of the bag...
Now that's she's seen it, I guess it's safe to mention that I wrote a teensy bit of triosmut last night to celebrate calliope14's birthday. :-)
There was something about the way Harry's shoulder blades stood out when he arched his back that made Hermione want to press her cheek into the furrow between them.
Beneath her, Ron's hips had stilled, but she didn't mind. She continued to ride him slowly, bracing her hands on Harry's bony shoulders as she leaned in to kiss the delectable patch of skin she'd been admiring. The room was hot, made hotter still by the heat of their entwined bodies, and Harry's skin was salty-sweet. She licked the taste of him from her lips and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, wishing she were just a bit taller -- or Ron a bit shorter -- so she could see over Harry's shoulder.
Still, she was able to tell what was going on from the sounds Harry was making, the changes in his posture. When he'd leaned forward and let out a breathy ahhhh, his thighs tense around Ron's shoulders, Hermione knew Ron had to be licking his way along the underside of Harry's cock, tracing the thick vein there with the point of his tongue. A sharp grunt and an arch of his back that brought Harry's head back so far it nearly rested on Hermione's collarbone, and she knew Ron must have finally stopped teasing and sucked the head of Harry's prick into his mouth. Harry's hips moved in a steady rhythm after that, and each time he moaned Ron's pelvis jerked upwards as though he'd been touched with a live electrical wire, and Hermione gasped in turn, completing the circuit.
Ron skated one hand up Hermione's thigh, coming to rest at her hipbone, the other cupping Harry's arse, fingertips lightly teasing the sensitive skin between his cheeks. Harry's movements became suddenly quicker, sharper, less coordinated, and he caught hold of Hermione's hand and interlaced their fingers, squeezing so hard it nearly hurt. She loved holding him when he came, loved the way every muscle in his body tensed bowstring-tight, loved the vibrations that echoed through his chest with each guttural oh God. His skin grew warmer still under her hands as it flushed pink, and the thick tang of sweat in the air grew thicker yet with the musky odor of his climax.
Harry sat back on Ron's belly, gasping, and turned his head to press a wet kiss to Hermione's mouth. Ron's hands found her breasts, and he thumbed her nipples as he re-established his own rhythm, jostling her so roughly that the kiss fell away. Harry squeezed her hand again, one connection unbroken, and murmured sweet obscenities against her jaw as the tension coiled and buzzed its way up her spine. They were all around her, both of them, on her skin, in her body, their smells and their sounds and their presence, as they always had been, as she hoped they always would be.
The force of her climax made her feel like shattering glass, jagged shards flying in all directions as Ron's cock pulsed and Harry's teeth grazed her neck. It was very nearly overwhelming, this feeling of fracturing into tiny pieces, but she'd learned long ago not to fear it. She knew they'd collapse against each other later, Harry on one side and Ron on the other, and they'd whisper and laugh and soothe each other with gentle touches, and do all the things they had to do to put one another back together again.
There was something about the way Harry's shoulder blades stood out when he arched his back that made Hermione want to press her cheek into the furrow between them.
Beneath her, Ron's hips had stilled, but she didn't mind. She continued to ride him slowly, bracing her hands on Harry's bony shoulders as she leaned in to kiss the delectable patch of skin she'd been admiring. The room was hot, made hotter still by the heat of their entwined bodies, and Harry's skin was salty-sweet. She licked the taste of him from her lips and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, wishing she were just a bit taller -- or Ron a bit shorter -- so she could see over Harry's shoulder.
Still, she was able to tell what was going on from the sounds Harry was making, the changes in his posture. When he'd leaned forward and let out a breathy ahhhh, his thighs tense around Ron's shoulders, Hermione knew Ron had to be licking his way along the underside of Harry's cock, tracing the thick vein there with the point of his tongue. A sharp grunt and an arch of his back that brought Harry's head back so far it nearly rested on Hermione's collarbone, and she knew Ron must have finally stopped teasing and sucked the head of Harry's prick into his mouth. Harry's hips moved in a steady rhythm after that, and each time he moaned Ron's pelvis jerked upwards as though he'd been touched with a live electrical wire, and Hermione gasped in turn, completing the circuit.
Ron skated one hand up Hermione's thigh, coming to rest at her hipbone, the other cupping Harry's arse, fingertips lightly teasing the sensitive skin between his cheeks. Harry's movements became suddenly quicker, sharper, less coordinated, and he caught hold of Hermione's hand and interlaced their fingers, squeezing so hard it nearly hurt. She loved holding him when he came, loved the way every muscle in his body tensed bowstring-tight, loved the vibrations that echoed through his chest with each guttural oh God. His skin grew warmer still under her hands as it flushed pink, and the thick tang of sweat in the air grew thicker yet with the musky odor of his climax.
Harry sat back on Ron's belly, gasping, and turned his head to press a wet kiss to Hermione's mouth. Ron's hands found her breasts, and he thumbed her nipples as he re-established his own rhythm, jostling her so roughly that the kiss fell away. Harry squeezed her hand again, one connection unbroken, and murmured sweet obscenities against her jaw as the tension coiled and buzzed its way up her spine. They were all around her, both of them, on her skin, in her body, their smells and their sounds and their presence, as they always had been, as she hoped they always would be.
The force of her climax made her feel like shattering glass, jagged shards flying in all directions as Ron's cock pulsed and Harry's teeth grazed her neck. It was very nearly overwhelming, this feeling of fracturing into tiny pieces, but she'd learned long ago not to fear it. She knew they'd collapse against each other later, Harry on one side and Ron on the other, and they'd whisper and laugh and soothe each other with gentle touches, and do all the things they had to do to put one another back together again.