FIC: Tea Service, Harry/Hermione/Draco, NC-17
Author: Tarie
Title: Tea Service
Pairing: Harry/Hermione/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,772
Genre: PWP
Summary: Harry's favourite part of the day is tea time in Hermione's office. The tea is hot and the company is even hotter.
Notes: argyle_s gave me the prompt of an 'M/M/F threesome. It's one of the M's first time "catching" and he's a bit nervous.' I hope this is what you meant!
Tea time was Harry's favourite time of the day, no doubt about it.
Tea always took place precisely at half-four sharp in Hermione's office. She'd magic away her in-and-out trays, her books, her quills, her inkwells, and time tables and replace all of that with a perfectly polished silver tray laden with service for four (although she never served more than three at her private teas), complete with a platter full of crustless sandwiches, hot buttered toast, miniature cakes, and scones. Small pots containing clotted cream, jelly, marmy, cream, and sugar were always arranged in alphabetical order to the left of the platter.
But he didn't look forward to Hermione's teas for the tea or the nosh. He didn't even look forward to it for the short break it offered him from his private Quidditch training job in Devon (although perhaps that played a small part in things).
Harry looked forward to Hermione's tea for the company, plain and simple.
He was surprised today to see that she'd only set service out for two today and told her so.
"It's just us, I'm afraid," she said, casually casting an Imperturbable Charm on the door and placing the wand back in an inner pocket of her robe. Shrugging her robe off then, she lay it carefully on the back of her chair and poured Harry's tea for him just the way he liked it - heavy on the cream, one lump of sugar.
"Thanks," he said gratefully, accepting the cup. After blowing on the steaming liquid, he took a sip. Hoping he didn't look or sound too disappointed, he reached for a cucumber sandwich and fiddled with it. "Where is he?"
"Business," Hermione replied, sitting back in her chair, long legs crossed and, whether she was aware of it or not, rather on display for his ogling. Not that Harry ogled her legs. Much.
Alright, so he did.
They were long and lean and seemed to go on forever. She wasn't a tall woman; Hermione was on the petite side. And alllll legs. Today she was wearing a skirt and he was ready to thank God, Merlin, or whoever else wanted to take credit for Hermione's skirt-wearing decision today. Those legs were brilliant and it had been now (he checked his watch casually) twenty-four hours and seventeen minutes since she'd last had them wrapped around him.
Damn.
That was nearly a lifetime ago.
"Harry?"
Guility, he tore his eyes away from her legs and up to her face. "Yeah?"
She frowned, absently twirling at a lock of frizzy hair with one hand; the other stirring a spoon in her tea. "Haven't you heard a word I've said?"
"Er..." Judging by the slight quirk of one brow, the tilt of her head, and the fact that she'd dropped the lock of hair she'd been twisting so that she could settle her hand on her hip, Harry knew he wasn't going to get away with a fib this time. Not like he usually did anyway, not with her. Grinning apologetically, he shook his head. "No. I didn't." Popping the sandwich in his mouth, he swallowed and gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. "It's your fault though, Hermione."
"Mine?" she asked, crossing her legs the other way.
He had to force himself not to stare and meet her eyes. "Yeah. You and those legs." Feeling bold, he waggled his eyebrows at her and was delighted to earn a laugh.
"Oh, you," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, me," he agreed, scooting his chair closer and leaning his elbows on the desk. She looked as though she wanted to lecture him about his manners just then but he didn't give her the opportunity. "Business where?"
"Honestly, Harry, you know I wouldn't know that," she admonished, shifting in her seat.
Oh hell. Her skirt rode up her thighs a little and he could see she was wearing those cream-coloured stockings he loved so much. They both loved them.
His trousers were definitely feeling a bit snug in the front.
"Well you both work for the Ministry," he shrugged, eyes darting from the hint of stockings back up to her face.
"Yes, but he's an Unspeakable and I'm in the Office of House-Elf Relocation," she said pointedly, the corners of her mouth twitching.
"Are you going to laugh at me?" he asked suddenly, pointing at those twitching corners.
"No!" Hermione said automatically, sounding scandalised. And then she pressed her hands to her mouth to unsuccessfully stifle a peal of laughter.
Harry put on a pout but he couldn't keep the facade up for long; he knew full well what department she was in and what department he was in. It was, of course, ridiculous to think that Hermione would know anything about what sort of business an Unspeakable might be away on.
"Shuddurp," he laughed, picking his elbows up off of the desk and standing up, reaching over it to grab a handful of her blouse. Yanking her half-way up out of her chair and pulling her toward him, he quirked a brow. "Or I might have to find a way to do it myself."
"Oh really?" Hermione countered, covering his hand. "I think I'd be interested in just how you intend on doing so, seeing as how I don't quite often--"
Figuring he'd let her think she had the upper hand for a moment, it soon became clear to Harry that she would prattle on for yonks unless he actually did put a stop to it. And so, he did.
He kissed her.
It wasn't one of your run-of-the-mill, gentle peck sort of kisses, either. Oh, no. It was one of those hungry, hard, I-am-going-to-have-my-way-with-you sort of kisses.
Hermione tasted like tea and clotted cream (perhaps she'd been sampling before he arrived?) and she bit his tongue when he snaked it into her mouth and he yelped before pressing his lips more firmly against hers, practically dragging her up onto the desk with one hand now, his other flailing out to remove the tray in one fell swoop from the desktop. Platters and containers shattered on the floor but he paid no mind to it. He didn't care about it (a few simple Repair Charms would make everything better) and he wasn't about to give her a chance to fret about it, either. Grabbing at her waist, he hoisted her up, sweeping his tongue across her teeth and up against the ridged roof of her mouth, hands curling on the edge of the desk as he draped himself over her and--
"That was my best service!" Hermione panted, eyes narrowing dangerously at him. "And don't tell me--"
"You can always use a Repair Charm," Harry said reasonably, inhaling deeply and giving her a small smile.
"You know Repair Charms can only do so much; that was antique! If I wanted to sell it, a potential owner would know that it'd been broken at--"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted smoothly, standing back and pulling his shirttails out of his trousers, "you really do talk too much, sometimes."
And with that, he pounced.
Hands settled on Hermione's shoulders, pushing her back so that she was laying flat on the desk. Hips nudged her knees apart, urging them to make room so he could stand between her legs. Fingers flicked back the hem of her skirt to reveal the tops of those damned stockings.
She writhed beneath him and, for a moment, Harry was surprised that she was apparently fighting back. This surprise made him take pause in the middle of unbuttoning her blouse. His hesitancy cost him, for she sprung into action, rolling deftly on her side and reaching for the robe she'd placed on the back of her chair. In a flash, her fingers closed around the hilt of her wand and she trained it on him, still essentially pinned beneath him on the desk.
For a split second he thought she was going to hex him. She'd done it to people she cared about before; why wouldn't she do it to him? But then he saw the roguish wink she gave him and relaxed, shivering only a little as the cool air in her office hit his bare skin. She'd always been really good at Charming the pants - and trousers and socks and shirt and shoes - right off of him.
"Now we're even," she said with a smirk, twirling her wand between her fingers.
"Show-off," Harry grinned, pressing up against the desk, resting his hands on her thighs. It was a bit difficult to keep the grin; he was, after all, quite naked and pressing up against the side of a desk. Between the way she was looking at him and how her legs suddenly wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer still, he wasn't too sure that his cock wasn't going to punch a hole in the side of her desk.
Briefly he had visions of Hermione filling out a work-order request for a desk repair due to holes from an excitable cock and burst out laughing. It was the kind of laugh that started out low in your belly and worked its way up, rattling your ribs and punching its way out of your lungs, shaking your shoulders like a hippogriff who'd caught a ferret.
"Harry," Hermione said in a low voice, evidently very amused by the look on her face, "I think you--"
"Sorry," he cut in, still chuckling a little as he heard her wand fall to the floor, a finger on her now-empty hand crooking and beckoning him. "I know. And I'm sorry."
Wasting no time, Harry finished the work he'd abandoned earlier, unfastening the rest of blouse buttons and divesting her of it. The discovery that she'd not worn a bra today was indeed a pleasant surprise and he didn't need to be encouraged at all to pay her breasts a bit of attention. Taking a nipple in his mouth, Harry tugged on the tip with his teeth, feeling it harden in his mouth. Her hands twisted in his hair, yanking fiercely as her back arched, pushing herself further into his mouth. One hand covered her other breast, teasing and pinching and rolling the nipple as his mouth suckled from the first, his other hand sliding over her stomach to rest against the small of her back, holding her up against him. She moaned and sighed and shivered, and Harry was getting dizzy from the warmth and responsiveness of her flesh as he licked and sucked and nibbled at her--
"Harry," she somewhat growled, pulling his head back harshly from her cleavage, propping herself up on an ankle and biting his lower lip. "Need you, more of you. Now."
He nodded, feeling himself get harder just from her request. Releasing her breast with a soft pop, his tongue traced a path down her stomach, stopping to dip in and swirl around her navel. She whimpered.
"Like that, do you?" he murmured, blowing across the path he'd made low on her stomach. His breath must have felt cool against where his tongue had just been, for she shivered and squirmed and whispered something that sounded like 'please'.
Well, who was he to keep a lady waiting? Manoeuvring over the skirt he'd flipped up, he laid a few open-mouthed kisses over her knickers, delighting in the way she squirmed and made a little impatient noise in the back of her throat.
"You need to learn how to be patient," he said teasingly, slipping a hand down her knickers, brushing the tips of his fingers against the coarse hair there.
"Harry," she snapped, pushing up against his hand, "you really do talk too much sometimes."
"Mmmhmm," he murmured in agreement before circling his fingers over her clit. His tongue followed shortly, joining his fingers to dance carefully around her clit. Remembering just how she liked it, his tongue moved round her clit in long strokes, his fingers slipping down to slide inside her. He didn't thrust them, not yet. Rather, he stretched and pressed against the warm muscles and he could feel her legs fall open farther for him. He just added another finger when he heard the door to Hermione's office open.
Shite.
Harry tensed up, a thousand mortified thoughts running through his head. Hermione. He should cover her up, at least get her some dignity before--
"Don't stop on my account," a familiar voice drawled.
Relieved more than ever to hear Draco Malfoy's voice, Harry laughed another one of those laughs, this time right against Hermione's centre. She moaned and he snorted as he lifted his head, tilting it enough so he could look over at him.
"I thought you were away on business," he said, that pout coming out again.
"I was," Draco said, removing his gloves and sitting in the chair Harry had been occupying before things got a little heated between Hermione and him. Pairing them up, he set them across his knee and eyed the display on the desk with interest.
"I told you," Hermione said smugly, running her foot along the top of his arse encouragingly.
Draco must have seen her do it, for his mouth set in that smarming little knowing smirk that Harry had a hard time hating anymore. "Really," he said, feigning disinterest, "don't stop on my account. Go on." He made a little 'shoo' gesture with one hand. "Get back to it."
As if Harry required any more encouraging than that. There he was with Hermione, touching and tasting her, and Draco wanted to watch? Fiiiiine by him.
After he added another finger, Hermione grunted and ground against his hand. Harry studied her face, taking in the way it's flushed and shining from a thin layer of sweat, and then he lapped at her clit again, completely caught up in her scent and taste. He became so caught up in her that he didn't notice that Draco had gotten out of his chair until he felt teeth nip at the base of his neck, then a tongue xylophone down his spine.
"What?" Harry gasped against Hermione's flesh, stilling the fingers he'd been thrusting into her.
Teeth again nipped at him, biting the curve on the top of his arse, followed quickly by the swirl of a tongue and the slightest suction of lips. "Don't mind me back here, Potter," Draco said, and then Harry felt one of his hands move between his legs.
"R-right," Harry croaked as his cock got even harder and there was breath ghosting over his pucker. His stomach flip-flopped; although he, Hermione, and Draco had slept together many times before, Harry had never been on the receiving end of anything like this; he'd always had to be the one in control of things. Despite his nervousness and strong desire to tell Draco to stop, he felt one of his feet slide out further from his frame, thereby opening himself up to be more accessible to Draco.
"Granger." Harry heard Draco huff irritably behind him and then Hermione huffed at him in return, disentangling her legs from around Harry's hips.
"Better," Draco said with approval. And then Harry felt Draco's tongue push against his entrance. He yelped and Hermione sat up like a rocket, wrapping her hand around the back of Harry's neck and pulling his face down to her cunt.
"Just relax," she said, rolling her hips a little so his mouth would brush against her. He didn't know how she mananged to sound bossy and soothing at the same time.
Doing the best he could to follow her orders, Harry focussed on thrusting his fingers in and out of her while Draco's tongue pushed past the tight ring of muscle. Not wanting to cry out, Harry bit down on his lip so hard at Draco's invasion that he drew a bit of blood. Eyes screwed shut and he licked at his lip, then mimicked what Draco was doing to him and replaced his fingers inside of Hermione with his tongue. His cock twitching madly, Harry got caught up in the sensation of having something hot and moist and insistent in his arse, driving back against Draco's tongue while his own pushed deeply into Hermione.
Just when he decided that he quite liked having a tongue in his arse, Draco pulled back, which in turn caused him to pull back from Hermione. Confused, he began to twist around to face Draco when the other man's strong hands righted him, pushing him a little toward Hermione.
A tongue ran along the shell of his ear and then teeth tugged on the lobe. "I want you to get up there, Harry," Draco said in a low voice, "and do what you were planning on doing before I interrupted."
Propping herself on an elbow again, Hermione smiled down at him, a healthy glow in her cheeks. Extending a hand to him in invitation, she said, "Come on, Harry."
Nodding, Harry climbed up onto the desk, straddling Hermione's thighs and running his hands over the tops of her stockings.
"That's it," she murmured approvingly, leaning forward and meeting Draco for a kiss over Harry's shoulder. Harry closed his eyes, listening to the soft sounds of their lips moving together and concentrating on the way his cock was pressing against one of those cream-coloured stockings, looking even more angry and red than usual against the nylon. Draco's hand grazed his cock and slid fingers over Hermione's centre, pressing deep inside of her.
"Oh fuck," Harry grunted, reaching down and pulling Draco's hand out of her, unable to stand not being inside her one minute longer, not when her chest was rising and falling like it was and she was moaning both of their names. Taking hold of her hands, Harry pinned them above her head and nudged himself against her entrance. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. And he was in. He was in and she was under him, her skirt hiked up about her waist, her ankles hooked behind his back once more. Her hips rose to meet his and they rocked together in time. He'd thrust forward and back and forward and back again and--
Draco's chest was warm and unexpected against his back. The fingers pushing at his cleft were even more unexpected and he stroked long and slow into Hermione, and then stilled.
"It's all right, Harry," she whispered, reaching a hand up to brush back a bit of hair that'd fallen into his eyes.
Draco's other hand rest low on his back, just beneath Hermione's ankles, and rubbed a slow, reassuring circle as Hermione spoke.
And suddenly Harry knew that it would be all right. Yeah, he was apprehensive and a bit nervous, but this was Hermione and Draco. They'd been lovers for eight months now, ever since the War officially ended.
Harry had always been the one to top Draco when they'd slept together - either with or without Hermione. He'd always needed that release, needed to pound away at something, to take all of the pent up passions that he just couldn't bear to release on Hermione for fear of hurting her. But he'd been selfish. What about Draco? What about his needs? The war hadn't been easy for him either. He'd nearly died at the hands of his own father and would have done so had Ron and another Auror arrived on the scene. It couldn't have been easy for Draco to do what he did, turn his back on the beliefs and ideology he'd grown up with. Surely he had the same sort of pent up frustrations or passions to let out. Whenever Draco shagged Hermione in Harry's presense, he held back on her. Harry could tell by the tension in his shoulders. They both didn't want to hurt her; they respected her too much to make her take some of their own hurt. But Harry could do that for Draco; he could take some of it for him.
"It is," he said finally, voice hitching in his chest. Raising his rear and rocking back against Draco's hand, he added with a moan, "I'm ready."
Screwing his eyes shut, Harry buried his face in the curve where Hermione's shoulder and neck met, thrusting shallowly as Draco's fingers worked his hole, stretching and preparing him. And then his fingers were gone; Harry figured he was finding something for lubricant and waited. It wasn't long before hands were on his arse, spreading his cheeks apart and then he felt something hard and warm and wide slide inside.
"Fuck," he groaned, pushing back against Draco's cock.
That earned a snigger from both Hermione, who pulled at his waist with her legs and yanked him back into her with a moan, and Draco, who leaned forward and sucked at that spot on the nape of his neck again.
"Yes, we will," Draco said, sounding amused as he pushed further inside.
Harry tensed for a moment; it felt so fucking good. Then it was time to move.
It was awkward at first because he'd never been the one in the middle before. But Hermione and Draco were more than willing to help him figure a rhythm out, Hermione using the legs around his waist to tug him toward her and Draco would pull on Harry's shoulders to indicate he should thrust back against him.
Harry's cock slide into Hermione while Draco's slide out of his arse and then he'd pull out of Hermione and push back onto Draco and it was the most fucking brilliant thing he'd ever experienced. It was better than flying and more thrilling that pulling a Wronski Feint and God--
His orgasm hit him hard and he emptied himself into Hermione, shaking and moaning and jerking his hips erratically. Her arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him close. Draco must have been not too far behind him, for he thrust one, two, three more times into Harry and collapsed onto his back. One of Hermione's hands left him and reached out for Draco and Harry sighed between them.
"What is it?" Draco asked, pressing his face against the back of Harry's shoulder.
"I think," Harry said slowly, "I could really use a spot of tea just about now."
Beneath him, Hermione yawned, then poked him in the back. "You should have thought about that before you flung the tea service to the floor."
Draco snorted and Harry grinned. "Yeah," he agreed, laying a kiss on the underside of her jaw, "I should've. I'll keep that in mind for tomorrow."
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Title: Tea Service
Pairing: Harry/Hermione/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3,772
Genre: PWP
Summary: Harry's favourite part of the day is tea time in Hermione's office. The tea is hot and the company is even hotter.
Notes: argyle_s gave me the prompt of an 'M/M/F threesome. It's one of the M's first time "catching" and he's a bit nervous.' I hope this is what you meant!
Tea time was Harry's favourite time of the day, no doubt about it.
Tea always took place precisely at half-four sharp in Hermione's office. She'd magic away her in-and-out trays, her books, her quills, her inkwells, and time tables and replace all of that with a perfectly polished silver tray laden with service for four (although she never served more than three at her private teas), complete with a platter full of crustless sandwiches, hot buttered toast, miniature cakes, and scones. Small pots containing clotted cream, jelly, marmy, cream, and sugar were always arranged in alphabetical order to the left of the platter.
But he didn't look forward to Hermione's teas for the tea or the nosh. He didn't even look forward to it for the short break it offered him from his private Quidditch training job in Devon (although perhaps that played a small part in things).
Harry looked forward to Hermione's tea for the company, plain and simple.
He was surprised today to see that she'd only set service out for two today and told her so.
"It's just us, I'm afraid," she said, casually casting an Imperturbable Charm on the door and placing the wand back in an inner pocket of her robe. Shrugging her robe off then, she lay it carefully on the back of her chair and poured Harry's tea for him just the way he liked it - heavy on the cream, one lump of sugar.
"Thanks," he said gratefully, accepting the cup. After blowing on the steaming liquid, he took a sip. Hoping he didn't look or sound too disappointed, he reached for a cucumber sandwich and fiddled with it. "Where is he?"
"Business," Hermione replied, sitting back in her chair, long legs crossed and, whether she was aware of it or not, rather on display for his ogling. Not that Harry ogled her legs. Much.
Alright, so he did.
They were long and lean and seemed to go on forever. She wasn't a tall woman; Hermione was on the petite side. And alllll legs. Today she was wearing a skirt and he was ready to thank God, Merlin, or whoever else wanted to take credit for Hermione's skirt-wearing decision today. Those legs were brilliant and it had been now (he checked his watch casually) twenty-four hours and seventeen minutes since she'd last had them wrapped around him.
Damn.
That was nearly a lifetime ago.
"Harry?"
Guility, he tore his eyes away from her legs and up to her face. "Yeah?"
She frowned, absently twirling at a lock of frizzy hair with one hand; the other stirring a spoon in her tea. "Haven't you heard a word I've said?"
"Er..." Judging by the slight quirk of one brow, the tilt of her head, and the fact that she'd dropped the lock of hair she'd been twisting so that she could settle her hand on her hip, Harry knew he wasn't going to get away with a fib this time. Not like he usually did anyway, not with her. Grinning apologetically, he shook his head. "No. I didn't." Popping the sandwich in his mouth, he swallowed and gave her what he hoped was a winning smile. "It's your fault though, Hermione."
"Mine?" she asked, crossing her legs the other way.
He had to force himself not to stare and meet her eyes. "Yeah. You and those legs." Feeling bold, he waggled his eyebrows at her and was delighted to earn a laugh.
"Oh, you," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, me," he agreed, scooting his chair closer and leaning his elbows on the desk. She looked as though she wanted to lecture him about his manners just then but he didn't give her the opportunity. "Business where?"
"Honestly, Harry, you know I wouldn't know that," she admonished, shifting in her seat.
Oh hell. Her skirt rode up her thighs a little and he could see she was wearing those cream-coloured stockings he loved so much. They both loved them.
His trousers were definitely feeling a bit snug in the front.
"Well you both work for the Ministry," he shrugged, eyes darting from the hint of stockings back up to her face.
"Yes, but he's an Unspeakable and I'm in the Office of House-Elf Relocation," she said pointedly, the corners of her mouth twitching.
"Are you going to laugh at me?" he asked suddenly, pointing at those twitching corners.
"No!" Hermione said automatically, sounding scandalised. And then she pressed her hands to her mouth to unsuccessfully stifle a peal of laughter.
Harry put on a pout but he couldn't keep the facade up for long; he knew full well what department she was in and what department he was in. It was, of course, ridiculous to think that Hermione would know anything about what sort of business an Unspeakable might be away on.
"Shuddurp," he laughed, picking his elbows up off of the desk and standing up, reaching over it to grab a handful of her blouse. Yanking her half-way up out of her chair and pulling her toward him, he quirked a brow. "Or I might have to find a way to do it myself."
"Oh really?" Hermione countered, covering his hand. "I think I'd be interested in just how you intend on doing so, seeing as how I don't quite often--"
Figuring he'd let her think she had the upper hand for a moment, it soon became clear to Harry that she would prattle on for yonks unless he actually did put a stop to it. And so, he did.
He kissed her.
It wasn't one of your run-of-the-mill, gentle peck sort of kisses, either. Oh, no. It was one of those hungry, hard, I-am-going-to-have-my-way-with-you sort of kisses.
Hermione tasted like tea and clotted cream (perhaps she'd been sampling before he arrived?) and she bit his tongue when he snaked it into her mouth and he yelped before pressing his lips more firmly against hers, practically dragging her up onto the desk with one hand now, his other flailing out to remove the tray in one fell swoop from the desktop. Platters and containers shattered on the floor but he paid no mind to it. He didn't care about it (a few simple Repair Charms would make everything better) and he wasn't about to give her a chance to fret about it, either. Grabbing at her waist, he hoisted her up, sweeping his tongue across her teeth and up against the ridged roof of her mouth, hands curling on the edge of the desk as he draped himself over her and--
"That was my best service!" Hermione panted, eyes narrowing dangerously at him. "And don't tell me--"
"You can always use a Repair Charm," Harry said reasonably, inhaling deeply and giving her a small smile.
"You know Repair Charms can only do so much; that was antique! If I wanted to sell it, a potential owner would know that it'd been broken at--"
"Hermione," Harry interrupted smoothly, standing back and pulling his shirttails out of his trousers, "you really do talk too much, sometimes."
And with that, he pounced.
Hands settled on Hermione's shoulders, pushing her back so that she was laying flat on the desk. Hips nudged her knees apart, urging them to make room so he could stand between her legs. Fingers flicked back the hem of her skirt to reveal the tops of those damned stockings.
She writhed beneath him and, for a moment, Harry was surprised that she was apparently fighting back. This surprise made him take pause in the middle of unbuttoning her blouse. His hesitancy cost him, for she sprung into action, rolling deftly on her side and reaching for the robe she'd placed on the back of her chair. In a flash, her fingers closed around the hilt of her wand and she trained it on him, still essentially pinned beneath him on the desk.
For a split second he thought she was going to hex him. She'd done it to people she cared about before; why wouldn't she do it to him? But then he saw the roguish wink she gave him and relaxed, shivering only a little as the cool air in her office hit his bare skin. She'd always been really good at Charming the pants - and trousers and socks and shirt and shoes - right off of him.
"Now we're even," she said with a smirk, twirling her wand between her fingers.
"Show-off," Harry grinned, pressing up against the desk, resting his hands on her thighs. It was a bit difficult to keep the grin; he was, after all, quite naked and pressing up against the side of a desk. Between the way she was looking at him and how her legs suddenly wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer still, he wasn't too sure that his cock wasn't going to punch a hole in the side of her desk.
Briefly he had visions of Hermione filling out a work-order request for a desk repair due to holes from an excitable cock and burst out laughing. It was the kind of laugh that started out low in your belly and worked its way up, rattling your ribs and punching its way out of your lungs, shaking your shoulders like a hippogriff who'd caught a ferret.
"Harry," Hermione said in a low voice, evidently very amused by the look on her face, "I think you--"
"Sorry," he cut in, still chuckling a little as he heard her wand fall to the floor, a finger on her now-empty hand crooking and beckoning him. "I know. And I'm sorry."
Wasting no time, Harry finished the work he'd abandoned earlier, unfastening the rest of blouse buttons and divesting her of it. The discovery that she'd not worn a bra today was indeed a pleasant surprise and he didn't need to be encouraged at all to pay her breasts a bit of attention. Taking a nipple in his mouth, Harry tugged on the tip with his teeth, feeling it harden in his mouth. Her hands twisted in his hair, yanking fiercely as her back arched, pushing herself further into his mouth. One hand covered her other breast, teasing and pinching and rolling the nipple as his mouth suckled from the first, his other hand sliding over her stomach to rest against the small of her back, holding her up against him. She moaned and sighed and shivered, and Harry was getting dizzy from the warmth and responsiveness of her flesh as he licked and sucked and nibbled at her--
"Harry," she somewhat growled, pulling his head back harshly from her cleavage, propping herself up on an ankle and biting his lower lip. "Need you, more of you. Now."
He nodded, feeling himself get harder just from her request. Releasing her breast with a soft pop, his tongue traced a path down her stomach, stopping to dip in and swirl around her navel. She whimpered.
"Like that, do you?" he murmured, blowing across the path he'd made low on her stomach. His breath must have felt cool against where his tongue had just been, for she shivered and squirmed and whispered something that sounded like 'please'.
Well, who was he to keep a lady waiting? Manoeuvring over the skirt he'd flipped up, he laid a few open-mouthed kisses over her knickers, delighting in the way she squirmed and made a little impatient noise in the back of her throat.
"You need to learn how to be patient," he said teasingly, slipping a hand down her knickers, brushing the tips of his fingers against the coarse hair there.
"Harry," she snapped, pushing up against his hand, "you really do talk too much sometimes."
"Mmmhmm," he murmured in agreement before circling his fingers over her clit. His tongue followed shortly, joining his fingers to dance carefully around her clit. Remembering just how she liked it, his tongue moved round her clit in long strokes, his fingers slipping down to slide inside her. He didn't thrust them, not yet. Rather, he stretched and pressed against the warm muscles and he could feel her legs fall open farther for him. He just added another finger when he heard the door to Hermione's office open.
Shite.
Harry tensed up, a thousand mortified thoughts running through his head. Hermione. He should cover her up, at least get her some dignity before--
"Don't stop on my account," a familiar voice drawled.
Relieved more than ever to hear Draco Malfoy's voice, Harry laughed another one of those laughs, this time right against Hermione's centre. She moaned and he snorted as he lifted his head, tilting it enough so he could look over at him.
"I thought you were away on business," he said, that pout coming out again.
"I was," Draco said, removing his gloves and sitting in the chair Harry had been occupying before things got a little heated between Hermione and him. Pairing them up, he set them across his knee and eyed the display on the desk with interest.
"I told you," Hermione said smugly, running her foot along the top of his arse encouragingly.
Draco must have seen her do it, for his mouth set in that smarming little knowing smirk that Harry had a hard time hating anymore. "Really," he said, feigning disinterest, "don't stop on my account. Go on." He made a little 'shoo' gesture with one hand. "Get back to it."
As if Harry required any more encouraging than that. There he was with Hermione, touching and tasting her, and Draco wanted to watch? Fiiiiine by him.
After he added another finger, Hermione grunted and ground against his hand. Harry studied her face, taking in the way it's flushed and shining from a thin layer of sweat, and then he lapped at her clit again, completely caught up in her scent and taste. He became so caught up in her that he didn't notice that Draco had gotten out of his chair until he felt teeth nip at the base of his neck, then a tongue xylophone down his spine.
"What?" Harry gasped against Hermione's flesh, stilling the fingers he'd been thrusting into her.
Teeth again nipped at him, biting the curve on the top of his arse, followed quickly by the swirl of a tongue and the slightest suction of lips. "Don't mind me back here, Potter," Draco said, and then Harry felt one of his hands move between his legs.
"R-right," Harry croaked as his cock got even harder and there was breath ghosting over his pucker. His stomach flip-flopped; although he, Hermione, and Draco had slept together many times before, Harry had never been on the receiving end of anything like this; he'd always had to be the one in control of things. Despite his nervousness and strong desire to tell Draco to stop, he felt one of his feet slide out further from his frame, thereby opening himself up to be more accessible to Draco.
"Granger." Harry heard Draco huff irritably behind him and then Hermione huffed at him in return, disentangling her legs from around Harry's hips.
"Better," Draco said with approval. And then Harry felt Draco's tongue push against his entrance. He yelped and Hermione sat up like a rocket, wrapping her hand around the back of Harry's neck and pulling his face down to her cunt.
"Just relax," she said, rolling her hips a little so his mouth would brush against her. He didn't know how she mananged to sound bossy and soothing at the same time.
Doing the best he could to follow her orders, Harry focussed on thrusting his fingers in and out of her while Draco's tongue pushed past the tight ring of muscle. Not wanting to cry out, Harry bit down on his lip so hard at Draco's invasion that he drew a bit of blood. Eyes screwed shut and he licked at his lip, then mimicked what Draco was doing to him and replaced his fingers inside of Hermione with his tongue. His cock twitching madly, Harry got caught up in the sensation of having something hot and moist and insistent in his arse, driving back against Draco's tongue while his own pushed deeply into Hermione.
Just when he decided that he quite liked having a tongue in his arse, Draco pulled back, which in turn caused him to pull back from Hermione. Confused, he began to twist around to face Draco when the other man's strong hands righted him, pushing him a little toward Hermione.
A tongue ran along the shell of his ear and then teeth tugged on the lobe. "I want you to get up there, Harry," Draco said in a low voice, "and do what you were planning on doing before I interrupted."
Propping herself on an elbow again, Hermione smiled down at him, a healthy glow in her cheeks. Extending a hand to him in invitation, she said, "Come on, Harry."
Nodding, Harry climbed up onto the desk, straddling Hermione's thighs and running his hands over the tops of her stockings.
"That's it," she murmured approvingly, leaning forward and meeting Draco for a kiss over Harry's shoulder. Harry closed his eyes, listening to the soft sounds of their lips moving together and concentrating on the way his cock was pressing against one of those cream-coloured stockings, looking even more angry and red than usual against the nylon. Draco's hand grazed his cock and slid fingers over Hermione's centre, pressing deep inside of her.
"Oh fuck," Harry grunted, reaching down and pulling Draco's hand out of her, unable to stand not being inside her one minute longer, not when her chest was rising and falling like it was and she was moaning both of their names. Taking hold of her hands, Harry pinned them above her head and nudged himself against her entrance. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. And he was in. He was in and she was under him, her skirt hiked up about her waist, her ankles hooked behind his back once more. Her hips rose to meet his and they rocked together in time. He'd thrust forward and back and forward and back again and--
Draco's chest was warm and unexpected against his back. The fingers pushing at his cleft were even more unexpected and he stroked long and slow into Hermione, and then stilled.
"It's all right, Harry," she whispered, reaching a hand up to brush back a bit of hair that'd fallen into his eyes.
Draco's other hand rest low on his back, just beneath Hermione's ankles, and rubbed a slow, reassuring circle as Hermione spoke.
And suddenly Harry knew that it would be all right. Yeah, he was apprehensive and a bit nervous, but this was Hermione and Draco. They'd been lovers for eight months now, ever since the War officially ended.
Harry had always been the one to top Draco when they'd slept together - either with or without Hermione. He'd always needed that release, needed to pound away at something, to take all of the pent up passions that he just couldn't bear to release on Hermione for fear of hurting her. But he'd been selfish. What about Draco? What about his needs? The war hadn't been easy for him either. He'd nearly died at the hands of his own father and would have done so had Ron and another Auror arrived on the scene. It couldn't have been easy for Draco to do what he did, turn his back on the beliefs and ideology he'd grown up with. Surely he had the same sort of pent up frustrations or passions to let out. Whenever Draco shagged Hermione in Harry's presense, he held back on her. Harry could tell by the tension in his shoulders. They both didn't want to hurt her; they respected her too much to make her take some of their own hurt. But Harry could do that for Draco; he could take some of it for him.
"It is," he said finally, voice hitching in his chest. Raising his rear and rocking back against Draco's hand, he added with a moan, "I'm ready."
Screwing his eyes shut, Harry buried his face in the curve where Hermione's shoulder and neck met, thrusting shallowly as Draco's fingers worked his hole, stretching and preparing him. And then his fingers were gone; Harry figured he was finding something for lubricant and waited. It wasn't long before hands were on his arse, spreading his cheeks apart and then he felt something hard and warm and wide slide inside.
"Fuck," he groaned, pushing back against Draco's cock.
That earned a snigger from both Hermione, who pulled at his waist with her legs and yanked him back into her with a moan, and Draco, who leaned forward and sucked at that spot on the nape of his neck again.
"Yes, we will," Draco said, sounding amused as he pushed further inside.
Harry tensed for a moment; it felt so fucking good. Then it was time to move.
It was awkward at first because he'd never been the one in the middle before. But Hermione and Draco were more than willing to help him figure a rhythm out, Hermione using the legs around his waist to tug him toward her and Draco would pull on Harry's shoulders to indicate he should thrust back against him.
Harry's cock slide into Hermione while Draco's slide out of his arse and then he'd pull out of Hermione and push back onto Draco and it was the most fucking brilliant thing he'd ever experienced. It was better than flying and more thrilling that pulling a Wronski Feint and God--
His orgasm hit him hard and he emptied himself into Hermione, shaking and moaning and jerking his hips erratically. Her arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him close. Draco must have been not too far behind him, for he thrust one, two, three more times into Harry and collapsed onto his back. One of Hermione's hands left him and reached out for Draco and Harry sighed between them.
"What is it?" Draco asked, pressing his face against the back of Harry's shoulder.
"I think," Harry said slowly, "I could really use a spot of tea just about now."
Beneath him, Hermione yawned, then poked him in the back. "You should have thought about that before you flung the tea service to the floor."
Draco snorted and Harry grinned. "Yeah," he agreed, laying a kiss on the underside of her jaw, "I should've. I'll keep that in mind for tomorrow."
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