fic repost: the subject of schoolgirl fantasies (HP; Hermione/Ginny/Remus; adult)
title: The Subject of Schoolgirl Fantasies
author: victoria p.
rating: adult
summary: Hermione has hidden depths, and Ginny is happy to plumb them, with a little help from Professor Lupin.
disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR.
notes: Thanks to Laura Smith for the beta. Written for aggiepnk9, who requested: Ginny/Hermione/Remus, the girls surprise Moony the day before a full moon. Title from The Police. also changed the bit about Ginny's birthday, since JKR announced she was born in August the day before I posted. Sigh.
word count: 3,000 words
date: August 12, 2004
~*~
The Subject of Schoolgirl Fantasies
Hermione likes to talk, and likes Ginny to talk, which suits Ginny just fine. The first time Hermione asked her to touch herself and talk, Ginny had dropped her eyes, blushed at the fact that she was wanking in front of Hermione -- wasn't that scandalous enough? -- and made up some vanilla fantasy about kissing Roger Davies after Quidditch practice. Hermione had raised an eyebrow and launched into her own fantasy, guiding Ginny's fingers to her slick, wet flesh. Ginny had almost come again, fingering Hermione and listening to her talk about wanting to be fucked by Viktor Krum and Oliver Wood at the same time. Hermione also wants to spank Pansy Parkinson with her hairbrush, and bend Malfoy over a chair and fuck him with her wand.
Hermione has hidden depths, and Ginny is happy to plumb them, their wank sessions (just girls being girls together, Hermione says) leading to longer and more intense fucking as the months wear on and the inevitable June confrontation with Voldemort draws near.
Ginny doesn't hold back anymore, each and every fantasy pouring out as Hermione fucks her with fingers and tongue; she talks about tying up Susan Bones, wanting to see Dean and Seamus together, imagining Cho Chang on her knees in the locker room, dark hair feathering over porcelain skin ready for Ginny and Hermione to lick and suck until Cho forgets Cedric, Harry, Roger, everybody but them.
When Ginny mentions wanting to make Luna's eyes focus on her for more than a minute, Hermione invites Luna to join them as Ginny's Christmas present. Luna is amazingly enthusiastic for all her vagueness, and very inventive with her wandwork. It's rare for reality to live up to, let alone surpass fantasy, but Luna managed it. Ginny owes Hermione for that one, and she's been wondering how to repay her.
With that in mind, she pushes Hermione down onto the bed, and Hermione goes willingly, legs falling open to give Ginny access to what she wants. Slick pink skin and dark curly hair and the salt-tang of Hermione on her tongue; Ginny still can't quite believe what they do together, how easy it is, and how good.
"I once saw Sirius sucking Professor Lupin's cock," Hermione says, pushing damp hair off her forehead, voice high and needy. "For weeks after, all I could think of was taking his place." Ginny has no doubts which 'he' Hermione's referring to, though she herself has fantasized about them both, alone and together, and only vaguely worries that fantasizing about a dead man might be a little strange. "First, I'd kneel in front of him and kiss the inside of his thighs." Ginny brushes her thumbs over the soft skin on the inside of Hermione's thighs, following their lazy arcs with her lips as Hermione continues, "Then I'd lick the head, do that swirly thing Ron likes so much--" Ginny stops and raises her head. "Sorry," Hermione says, but she doesn't sound sorry at all.
Ginny's one rule is no Weasleys other than she are to be mentioned -- she doesn't mind that Hermione's also fucking Ron; she just doesn't want to hear about it. Or Hermione's fantasies of Bill, Charlie, or the twins. She doesn't ask and Hermione doesn't tell, and they are all happier that way.
She slips her fingers along Hermione's wet folds, slowly sliding inside.
"You're licking Professor Lupin's cock," Ginny prompts when Hermione moans instead of continuing.
"Yes," Hermione replies, though it's more of an exhalation than a word. "I'd suck on his balls, and then I'd take his cock in my mouth, just the head first, slowly sliding my lips down, a little more, a little deeper. I'd fondle his balls, then slip underneath so I could slide my fingers in and out of his arsehole, until he couldn't stand it anymore and came in my mouth. For him I'd swallow it all."
Ginny nods in response, enjoying the way the ends of her hair brush over the heated skin of her shoulders and back, ghosting a hand over her own body to glance over her own clit, shivering with the contact.
Hermione threads her fingers through Ginny's hair and pulls, demanding her full attention, and Ginny teases her with long, slow licks and feather-light touches, fingers and tongue taking their sweet time before honing in on her clit. As Hermione's body tenses and bows under Ginny's mouth and hands, the words tumble forth like rain.
"After that, he'd fuck me hard, from behind, his teeth on my neck, his fingers in my mouth, and his other hand stroking my clit."
Ginny follows suit, flicking her thumb over the engorged nub before sucking it into her mouth, pumping first two and then three fingers in and out of Hermione's cunt until she moans, "And oh...Oh. Oh, God, Ginny."
And Ginny smiles, satisfied that even in the midst of her fantasy, Hermione remembers who's really fucking her when it counts.
While Hermione shudders and comes, Ginny brings herself off with her other hand, only the lightest of touches necessary now to cause that surge of pleasure to pulse through her body.
As they lie next to each other, sweaty and sated, an idea forms in the back of Ginny's mind. She's the twins' little sister, after all, and their most able apprentice; planning mischief is in her blood. She's even better at being devious than they, and cuter, to boot.
"Moon's full day after tomorrow," she says sleepily, resting her head in the crook of Hermione's neck, one hand playing absently with Hermione's breast.
Hermione gasps when Ginny pinches a nipple, and says, "They say the day before the moon is full, werewolves are rapacious. Insatiable."
"Mmm... Wonder if it's true."
Ginny doesn't have to look to see Hermione's slow smile. She can hear it in her voice when she says, "Only one way to find out."
***
Ginny wears her oldest uniform skirt, so short it brushes the tops of her thighs, barely covering her arse. Her crisp, white shirt pulls across her breasts, barely contained in the simple white, cotton bra Hermione chose for her. The crotch of her knickers is already uncomfortably wet, anticipating what they're about to do. The top button of her shirt is undone, her tie loose around her neck. She hopes Professor Lupin will lick away the sweat pooling in the hollow of throat, has to swallow hard when she notices Hermione's nipples are already taut and straining against her shirt. Hermione is not wearing a bra.
Hermione also wears her uniform short and tight, her hair long and loose over her shoulders, her Head Girl badge perfectly shined and pinned to her skirt. Hermione has a reputation to maintain, Head Girl and perfect girlfriend, and so what if everyone knows she'll screw anything that moves. Nobody would ever say it, and that's all that matters.
They wait outside Snape's office for Professor Lupin. They still call him that, though he hasn't been their professor in years, and he's stopped asking them to stop. He comes to Hogwarts now for the Wolfsbane, as Snape is no longer safe outside the walls of the school.
Ginny feels Lupin's eyes on them as he steps out of the office, door swinging shut behind him, hiding them from Snape's gaze, though the defiant Weasley in her thinks she could bring even sour old Snape to his knees with lust if she wanted to. She decides she doesn't want to. They have a wolf to tame tonight, after all.
She can see the heat flare in Lupin's eyes for just a moment before the mask slides down and he is weary, wary Professor Lupin, helpful words and kind smiles.
"Ginny, Hermione. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Hermione smiles like that cat that ate the canary. "We have an early birthday present for you." She does something with her hips that makes her skirt sway slightly, drawing both Ginny's and Lupin's eyes to it, and how little of her long, pale, shapely thighs it covers.
His voice is hoarse when he says, "My birthday was in March."
"Then it's a late birthday present," Hermione says with a breathless laugh.
He raises an eyebrow, and says only, "I really shouldn't be seen in the school. The parents--"
Hermione produces Harry's Invisibility Cloak, which shimmers as Lupin swirls it around himself, his amused smile the last thing to disappear, and then follows them to the Room of Requirement. When they arrive, he drops it into a silvery pool at his feet, looking around curiously.
Ginny's palms are sweating, and she rubs them on the scratchy wool of her skirt as Hermione locks the door behind them with a satisfying click and a swish of her wand.
Hermione reaches across Lupin's body to grab Ginny's tie and pull her close for a kiss. Ginny can feel the coarse fabric of his robes as her cheek grazes his chest, and she hears his heart beating. Hermione's tongue is in her mouth, sweet velvet-rough girlflesh, licking at her like she's the trifle from dinner.
Lupin chokes as Hermione deepens the kiss, hands wandering over Ginny's shoulders and breasts, then up under her indecently short skirt. Ginny prefers to touch as she's being touched, and one hand twines in Hermione's hair, snagging in the tangles, while the other fists in the front of Lupin's robes because her knees are starting to tremble under Hermione's devouring kiss.
His hand on her shoulder separates her from Hermione, who looks up at him curiously, hip and eyebrow cocked.
"What are you doing?" he asks, backing away and uncurling Ginny's fingers from his robe, only to find himself against the locked door. Hermione smiles and Ginny feels another rush of wet heat between her thighs.
"What does it look like we're doing?" Hermione answers.
"While I'm exceedingly flattered," Lupin begins, his voice thick even after he clears his throat twice, "this is utterly inappropriate." When her hand is free, Ginny slides it down his body, feeling him tense as she brushes over the unmistakable bulge of his erection. "Ginny! Please stop that."
Eyes wide and innocent, she says, "But Professor--"
"I'm not your-- Oh."
Hermione's smile widens in the knowledge that she was right, which is probably Hermione's biggest turn-on. Lupin pays lip service to rules but doesn't need much convincing to break them, and the rules they'll be breaking tonight are not ones any of them consider worth following.
"I see," he says, and his voice is sharp enough to cut glass, his body still taut as a bowstring beneath her fingers. "Are you sure?"
Hermione pulls his face down to hers and kisses him in answer, feral as a cat in heat. When he breaks away from her, he turns to Ginny and kisses her as well. The bitter flavor of the Wolfsbane lingers on his tongue, but she imagines she can taste Hermione in his mouth, as well.
They stumble toward the king size bed the room has provided, strewn with brightly colored pillows and surrounded by flickering candles which fill the room with the soft scents of almonds and honey, cinnamon and cloves, soothing and spicy all at once.
Together, Ginny and Hermione push him down on the bed, scrabbling at his robes until they're gone, exchanging ever more heated kisses all the while.
He is all angles and planes, and hard where Ginny has become used to soft -- visible ribs and prominent pelvic bones instead of the soft flare of breast and curve of hip. Hermione has her hands twined in his greying brown hair and her tongue dips in and out of his mouth like a hummingbird sipping nectar from a flower.
Ginny moves down the bed, pressing kisses to whatever skin she sees -- Lupin's pale and covered with hair, Hermione's slightly darker and nearly hairless. She remembers Hermione's fantasy, and settles between his knees, tongue tracing lightly over his thighs.
He groans, muffled by Hermione's mouth, hands tearing at her shirt until the buttons pop in a spray of mother-of-pearl and it hangs from her shoulders; she shrugs it off, leaving the gold and red Gryffindor tie to dangle between her rose-tipped breasts.
Ginny continues her exploration of his thighs and abdomen with her lips and fingers, inching up and around the thatch of wiry brown hair surrounding his cock. He trembles in response, and desire uncurls in her belly like a snake, eager to strike. She leans down, tips of her hair brushing over his skin, and licks the head, tonguing the slit lightly. He groans again, mouth against Hermione's breast, as Hermione grinds down against the hand he's got between her thighs. She's not wearing knickers, either, and Ginny shucks hers now, as well, tossing them to the floor in relief.
Hermione twists her body over him, straddling his chest and leaning forward to kiss Ginny. Her chin bumps into his prick and he gasps, and Hermione grins sheepishly. He wraps long fingers around Hermione's thighs and pulls her body back toward him, murmuring words that make her skirt disappear. Somehow, the tie remains.
Hermione moans when he runs his tongue over her wet and swollen flesh, then she takes his cock in her mouth. Ginny lowers her head to suck at his balls, eyes locked with Hermione's. Hermione looks pleased, and Ginny wants that, wants Hermione to have whatever she desires, because Hermione does the same for her. She slides a hand between her legs, her fingers over her clit.
She can feel the strain in Lupin's thighs, knows he's close to coming, and she and Hermione aren't far behind, when he groans.
"Wait. Wait." His voice is hoarse, his lips glistening as he peers around Hermione's body to look at them.
Hermione looks over her shoulder at him, pushing sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. "Why?"
Ginny sits back on her heels, watching, fingers still circling over her clit.
"Not as young as I used to be," he says with charming self-deprecation, "and I want this to last a little longer."
"I thought werewolves had incredible stamina," Hermione replies, eyes glinting and chin raised in challenge.
His answering grin is amused, knowing. "Do you believe everything you read, Hermione?"
Before she can reply, and with a quickness belying his words, he rearranges them. Ginny finds herself on her back, clothes vanished. Hermione is on elbows and knees before her, licking her cunt. Remus kneels behind Hermione, pushing her knees apart so he can slide inside her.
Framed by the curve of Hermione's shoulder, his grin is (and if Ginny weren't so focused on the sensations coursing through her as Hermione's tongue flicks against her clit, she'd groan at the pun) wolfish, his eyes lambent in the light of the flickering candles.
They're mostly silent now, which Ginny isn't used to. She tries to talk but can't do more than make small, incoherent noises; the only other sounds are the wet slap of skin on skin, punctuated by soft moans and gasps. Yes, there, god, yes. Please. So good, so hot. Fuck, yes.
She can't tell who says what, and doesn't think it matters.
Lupin's hands are long-fingered and strong, one curling possessively over Hermione's hip, the other tangled in the thatch of hair between her thighs. He licks and kisses her neck, her shoulders, her back, and Hermione arches and quivers beneath him, every shiver and shake vibrating through her and into Ginny, who twists and gasps, bucking against Hermione's mouth. Hermione has small hands, but clever ones, fingers pumping in and out of Ginny while her tongue drives Ginny to new heights of delirium. Ginny's hands move of their own volition, skating over her body, cupping and squeezing her breasts, rubbing her aching nipples before threading through Hermione's thick, damp hair, anchoring her to the bed as she comes, and comes apart.
Lupin growls above them, hips pistoning into Hermione, whose hands tighten painfully on Ginny's thighs, bringing her back down to earth. Lupin throws his head back and thrusts, and Ginny can tell he's coming hard, deep inside Hermione, who trembles and moans. Ginny strokes Hermione's hair and runs fingers over her lips while Lupin's fingers continue to move between her legs. Hermione bucks back against him, eyes closed now, mouth open and body shaking as she climaxes, making guttural cries that sound as if they're being torn from her throat.
They collapse on the bed next to Ginny, and spend a few minutes catching their breath, letting pleasure flow through them.
Ginny is surprised at how quickly Lupin's ready for the next go, despite his earlier words. She's also surprised at how good it feels to have him moving inside her with languid strokes, so different from his hard, frantic thrusts into Hermione. She is primed and ready, so she comes quickly, with longer, slower surges of bliss radiating through her body. Hermione's thighs around Ginny's ears muffle Lupin's harsh groans of release; Ginny licks and sucks at her, savoring the taste of her mingled with Lupin, bitter and salty. She thinks of the moon, moving and shaping the ocean, made flesh in Hermione, for her to worship with her tongue and hands.
She never expected sex to make a poet of her, and laughs at her own foolishness. The vibrations make Hermione tremble and moan, and her body clenches around Ginny's thrusting fingers.
When they are done, Ginny curls around Hermione and Lupin settles in behind her, circling them both with his arms.
"Vixens," he murmurs sleepily, and they laugh softly with delight.
"Werewolves," Hermione says with a smile. "Voracious."
"Insatiable," Ginny agrees. "So much for not believing what we read, Professor."
It's his turn to laugh. "Same time next month then?" he asks.
"Mmm," Ginny replies while Hermione says, "Yes," enthusiastically.
Once again, Ginny thinks as she drifts off to sleep, reality has lived up to the fantasy.
end
~*~
author: victoria p.
rating: adult
summary: Hermione has hidden depths, and Ginny is happy to plumb them, with a little help from Professor Lupin.
disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR.
notes: Thanks to Laura Smith for the beta. Written for aggiepnk9, who requested: Ginny/Hermione/Remus, the girls surprise Moony the day before a full moon. Title from The Police. also changed the bit about Ginny's birthday, since JKR announced she was born in August the day before I posted. Sigh.
word count: 3,000 words
date: August 12, 2004
~*~
The Subject of Schoolgirl Fantasies
Hermione likes to talk, and likes Ginny to talk, which suits Ginny just fine. The first time Hermione asked her to touch herself and talk, Ginny had dropped her eyes, blushed at the fact that she was wanking in front of Hermione -- wasn't that scandalous enough? -- and made up some vanilla fantasy about kissing Roger Davies after Quidditch practice. Hermione had raised an eyebrow and launched into her own fantasy, guiding Ginny's fingers to her slick, wet flesh. Ginny had almost come again, fingering Hermione and listening to her talk about wanting to be fucked by Viktor Krum and Oliver Wood at the same time. Hermione also wants to spank Pansy Parkinson with her hairbrush, and bend Malfoy over a chair and fuck him with her wand.
Hermione has hidden depths, and Ginny is happy to plumb them, their wank sessions (just girls being girls together, Hermione says) leading to longer and more intense fucking as the months wear on and the inevitable June confrontation with Voldemort draws near.
Ginny doesn't hold back anymore, each and every fantasy pouring out as Hermione fucks her with fingers and tongue; she talks about tying up Susan Bones, wanting to see Dean and Seamus together, imagining Cho Chang on her knees in the locker room, dark hair feathering over porcelain skin ready for Ginny and Hermione to lick and suck until Cho forgets Cedric, Harry, Roger, everybody but them.
When Ginny mentions wanting to make Luna's eyes focus on her for more than a minute, Hermione invites Luna to join them as Ginny's Christmas present. Luna is amazingly enthusiastic for all her vagueness, and very inventive with her wandwork. It's rare for reality to live up to, let alone surpass fantasy, but Luna managed it. Ginny owes Hermione for that one, and she's been wondering how to repay her.
With that in mind, she pushes Hermione down onto the bed, and Hermione goes willingly, legs falling open to give Ginny access to what she wants. Slick pink skin and dark curly hair and the salt-tang of Hermione on her tongue; Ginny still can't quite believe what they do together, how easy it is, and how good.
"I once saw Sirius sucking Professor Lupin's cock," Hermione says, pushing damp hair off her forehead, voice high and needy. "For weeks after, all I could think of was taking his place." Ginny has no doubts which 'he' Hermione's referring to, though she herself has fantasized about them both, alone and together, and only vaguely worries that fantasizing about a dead man might be a little strange. "First, I'd kneel in front of him and kiss the inside of his thighs." Ginny brushes her thumbs over the soft skin on the inside of Hermione's thighs, following their lazy arcs with her lips as Hermione continues, "Then I'd lick the head, do that swirly thing Ron likes so much--" Ginny stops and raises her head. "Sorry," Hermione says, but she doesn't sound sorry at all.
Ginny's one rule is no Weasleys other than she are to be mentioned -- she doesn't mind that Hermione's also fucking Ron; she just doesn't want to hear about it. Or Hermione's fantasies of Bill, Charlie, or the twins. She doesn't ask and Hermione doesn't tell, and they are all happier that way.
She slips her fingers along Hermione's wet folds, slowly sliding inside.
"You're licking Professor Lupin's cock," Ginny prompts when Hermione moans instead of continuing.
"Yes," Hermione replies, though it's more of an exhalation than a word. "I'd suck on his balls, and then I'd take his cock in my mouth, just the head first, slowly sliding my lips down, a little more, a little deeper. I'd fondle his balls, then slip underneath so I could slide my fingers in and out of his arsehole, until he couldn't stand it anymore and came in my mouth. For him I'd swallow it all."
Ginny nods in response, enjoying the way the ends of her hair brush over the heated skin of her shoulders and back, ghosting a hand over her own body to glance over her own clit, shivering with the contact.
Hermione threads her fingers through Ginny's hair and pulls, demanding her full attention, and Ginny teases her with long, slow licks and feather-light touches, fingers and tongue taking their sweet time before honing in on her clit. As Hermione's body tenses and bows under Ginny's mouth and hands, the words tumble forth like rain.
"After that, he'd fuck me hard, from behind, his teeth on my neck, his fingers in my mouth, and his other hand stroking my clit."
Ginny follows suit, flicking her thumb over the engorged nub before sucking it into her mouth, pumping first two and then three fingers in and out of Hermione's cunt until she moans, "And oh...Oh. Oh, God, Ginny."
And Ginny smiles, satisfied that even in the midst of her fantasy, Hermione remembers who's really fucking her when it counts.
While Hermione shudders and comes, Ginny brings herself off with her other hand, only the lightest of touches necessary now to cause that surge of pleasure to pulse through her body.
As they lie next to each other, sweaty and sated, an idea forms in the back of Ginny's mind. She's the twins' little sister, after all, and their most able apprentice; planning mischief is in her blood. She's even better at being devious than they, and cuter, to boot.
"Moon's full day after tomorrow," she says sleepily, resting her head in the crook of Hermione's neck, one hand playing absently with Hermione's breast.
Hermione gasps when Ginny pinches a nipple, and says, "They say the day before the moon is full, werewolves are rapacious. Insatiable."
"Mmm... Wonder if it's true."
Ginny doesn't have to look to see Hermione's slow smile. She can hear it in her voice when she says, "Only one way to find out."
***
Ginny wears her oldest uniform skirt, so short it brushes the tops of her thighs, barely covering her arse. Her crisp, white shirt pulls across her breasts, barely contained in the simple white, cotton bra Hermione chose for her. The crotch of her knickers is already uncomfortably wet, anticipating what they're about to do. The top button of her shirt is undone, her tie loose around her neck. She hopes Professor Lupin will lick away the sweat pooling in the hollow of throat, has to swallow hard when she notices Hermione's nipples are already taut and straining against her shirt. Hermione is not wearing a bra.
Hermione also wears her uniform short and tight, her hair long and loose over her shoulders, her Head Girl badge perfectly shined and pinned to her skirt. Hermione has a reputation to maintain, Head Girl and perfect girlfriend, and so what if everyone knows she'll screw anything that moves. Nobody would ever say it, and that's all that matters.
They wait outside Snape's office for Professor Lupin. They still call him that, though he hasn't been their professor in years, and he's stopped asking them to stop. He comes to Hogwarts now for the Wolfsbane, as Snape is no longer safe outside the walls of the school.
Ginny feels Lupin's eyes on them as he steps out of the office, door swinging shut behind him, hiding them from Snape's gaze, though the defiant Weasley in her thinks she could bring even sour old Snape to his knees with lust if she wanted to. She decides she doesn't want to. They have a wolf to tame tonight, after all.
She can see the heat flare in Lupin's eyes for just a moment before the mask slides down and he is weary, wary Professor Lupin, helpful words and kind smiles.
"Ginny, Hermione. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Hermione smiles like that cat that ate the canary. "We have an early birthday present for you." She does something with her hips that makes her skirt sway slightly, drawing both Ginny's and Lupin's eyes to it, and how little of her long, pale, shapely thighs it covers.
His voice is hoarse when he says, "My birthday was in March."
"Then it's a late birthday present," Hermione says with a breathless laugh.
He raises an eyebrow, and says only, "I really shouldn't be seen in the school. The parents--"
Hermione produces Harry's Invisibility Cloak, which shimmers as Lupin swirls it around himself, his amused smile the last thing to disappear, and then follows them to the Room of Requirement. When they arrive, he drops it into a silvery pool at his feet, looking around curiously.
Ginny's palms are sweating, and she rubs them on the scratchy wool of her skirt as Hermione locks the door behind them with a satisfying click and a swish of her wand.
Hermione reaches across Lupin's body to grab Ginny's tie and pull her close for a kiss. Ginny can feel the coarse fabric of his robes as her cheek grazes his chest, and she hears his heart beating. Hermione's tongue is in her mouth, sweet velvet-rough girlflesh, licking at her like she's the trifle from dinner.
Lupin chokes as Hermione deepens the kiss, hands wandering over Ginny's shoulders and breasts, then up under her indecently short skirt. Ginny prefers to touch as she's being touched, and one hand twines in Hermione's hair, snagging in the tangles, while the other fists in the front of Lupin's robes because her knees are starting to tremble under Hermione's devouring kiss.
His hand on her shoulder separates her from Hermione, who looks up at him curiously, hip and eyebrow cocked.
"What are you doing?" he asks, backing away and uncurling Ginny's fingers from his robe, only to find himself against the locked door. Hermione smiles and Ginny feels another rush of wet heat between her thighs.
"What does it look like we're doing?" Hermione answers.
"While I'm exceedingly flattered," Lupin begins, his voice thick even after he clears his throat twice, "this is utterly inappropriate." When her hand is free, Ginny slides it down his body, feeling him tense as she brushes over the unmistakable bulge of his erection. "Ginny! Please stop that."
Eyes wide and innocent, she says, "But Professor--"
"I'm not your-- Oh."
Hermione's smile widens in the knowledge that she was right, which is probably Hermione's biggest turn-on. Lupin pays lip service to rules but doesn't need much convincing to break them, and the rules they'll be breaking tonight are not ones any of them consider worth following.
"I see," he says, and his voice is sharp enough to cut glass, his body still taut as a bowstring beneath her fingers. "Are you sure?"
Hermione pulls his face down to hers and kisses him in answer, feral as a cat in heat. When he breaks away from her, he turns to Ginny and kisses her as well. The bitter flavor of the Wolfsbane lingers on his tongue, but she imagines she can taste Hermione in his mouth, as well.
They stumble toward the king size bed the room has provided, strewn with brightly colored pillows and surrounded by flickering candles which fill the room with the soft scents of almonds and honey, cinnamon and cloves, soothing and spicy all at once.
Together, Ginny and Hermione push him down on the bed, scrabbling at his robes until they're gone, exchanging ever more heated kisses all the while.
He is all angles and planes, and hard where Ginny has become used to soft -- visible ribs and prominent pelvic bones instead of the soft flare of breast and curve of hip. Hermione has her hands twined in his greying brown hair and her tongue dips in and out of his mouth like a hummingbird sipping nectar from a flower.
Ginny moves down the bed, pressing kisses to whatever skin she sees -- Lupin's pale and covered with hair, Hermione's slightly darker and nearly hairless. She remembers Hermione's fantasy, and settles between his knees, tongue tracing lightly over his thighs.
He groans, muffled by Hermione's mouth, hands tearing at her shirt until the buttons pop in a spray of mother-of-pearl and it hangs from her shoulders; she shrugs it off, leaving the gold and red Gryffindor tie to dangle between her rose-tipped breasts.
Ginny continues her exploration of his thighs and abdomen with her lips and fingers, inching up and around the thatch of wiry brown hair surrounding his cock. He trembles in response, and desire uncurls in her belly like a snake, eager to strike. She leans down, tips of her hair brushing over his skin, and licks the head, tonguing the slit lightly. He groans again, mouth against Hermione's breast, as Hermione grinds down against the hand he's got between her thighs. She's not wearing knickers, either, and Ginny shucks hers now, as well, tossing them to the floor in relief.
Hermione twists her body over him, straddling his chest and leaning forward to kiss Ginny. Her chin bumps into his prick and he gasps, and Hermione grins sheepishly. He wraps long fingers around Hermione's thighs and pulls her body back toward him, murmuring words that make her skirt disappear. Somehow, the tie remains.
Hermione moans when he runs his tongue over her wet and swollen flesh, then she takes his cock in her mouth. Ginny lowers her head to suck at his balls, eyes locked with Hermione's. Hermione looks pleased, and Ginny wants that, wants Hermione to have whatever she desires, because Hermione does the same for her. She slides a hand between her legs, her fingers over her clit.
She can feel the strain in Lupin's thighs, knows he's close to coming, and she and Hermione aren't far behind, when he groans.
"Wait. Wait." His voice is hoarse, his lips glistening as he peers around Hermione's body to look at them.
Hermione looks over her shoulder at him, pushing sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. "Why?"
Ginny sits back on her heels, watching, fingers still circling over her clit.
"Not as young as I used to be," he says with charming self-deprecation, "and I want this to last a little longer."
"I thought werewolves had incredible stamina," Hermione replies, eyes glinting and chin raised in challenge.
His answering grin is amused, knowing. "Do you believe everything you read, Hermione?"
Before she can reply, and with a quickness belying his words, he rearranges them. Ginny finds herself on her back, clothes vanished. Hermione is on elbows and knees before her, licking her cunt. Remus kneels behind Hermione, pushing her knees apart so he can slide inside her.
Framed by the curve of Hermione's shoulder, his grin is (and if Ginny weren't so focused on the sensations coursing through her as Hermione's tongue flicks against her clit, she'd groan at the pun) wolfish, his eyes lambent in the light of the flickering candles.
They're mostly silent now, which Ginny isn't used to. She tries to talk but can't do more than make small, incoherent noises; the only other sounds are the wet slap of skin on skin, punctuated by soft moans and gasps. Yes, there, god, yes. Please. So good, so hot. Fuck, yes.
She can't tell who says what, and doesn't think it matters.
Lupin's hands are long-fingered and strong, one curling possessively over Hermione's hip, the other tangled in the thatch of hair between her thighs. He licks and kisses her neck, her shoulders, her back, and Hermione arches and quivers beneath him, every shiver and shake vibrating through her and into Ginny, who twists and gasps, bucking against Hermione's mouth. Hermione has small hands, but clever ones, fingers pumping in and out of Ginny while her tongue drives Ginny to new heights of delirium. Ginny's hands move of their own volition, skating over her body, cupping and squeezing her breasts, rubbing her aching nipples before threading through Hermione's thick, damp hair, anchoring her to the bed as she comes, and comes apart.
Lupin growls above them, hips pistoning into Hermione, whose hands tighten painfully on Ginny's thighs, bringing her back down to earth. Lupin throws his head back and thrusts, and Ginny can tell he's coming hard, deep inside Hermione, who trembles and moans. Ginny strokes Hermione's hair and runs fingers over her lips while Lupin's fingers continue to move between her legs. Hermione bucks back against him, eyes closed now, mouth open and body shaking as she climaxes, making guttural cries that sound as if they're being torn from her throat.
They collapse on the bed next to Ginny, and spend a few minutes catching their breath, letting pleasure flow through them.
Ginny is surprised at how quickly Lupin's ready for the next go, despite his earlier words. She's also surprised at how good it feels to have him moving inside her with languid strokes, so different from his hard, frantic thrusts into Hermione. She is primed and ready, so she comes quickly, with longer, slower surges of bliss radiating through her body. Hermione's thighs around Ginny's ears muffle Lupin's harsh groans of release; Ginny licks and sucks at her, savoring the taste of her mingled with Lupin, bitter and salty. She thinks of the moon, moving and shaping the ocean, made flesh in Hermione, for her to worship with her tongue and hands.
She never expected sex to make a poet of her, and laughs at her own foolishness. The vibrations make Hermione tremble and moan, and her body clenches around Ginny's thrusting fingers.
When they are done, Ginny curls around Hermione and Lupin settles in behind her, circling them both with his arms.
"Vixens," he murmurs sleepily, and they laugh softly with delight.
"Werewolves," Hermione says with a smile. "Voracious."
"Insatiable," Ginny agrees. "So much for not believing what we read, Professor."
It's his turn to laugh. "Same time next month then?" he asks.
"Mmm," Ginny replies while Hermione says, "Yes," enthusiastically.
Once again, Ginny thinks as she drifts off to sleep, reality has lived up to the fantasy.
end
~*~