Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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13th January 2010 11:59 - Fic: The Truth About Potters - Harry, James/Sirius/Remus - R
Title: The Truth About Potters
Author: [info]elfflame
Characters/Pairings: Harry, James/Sirius/Remus
Rating: R
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Ménage a trois (threesomes), Masturbation (solo)
Other Warnings: A bit of implied underage voyeurism and wanking.
Word Count: 1068
Summary/Description: Harry knows what they are to each other, and he doesn’t mind.
Author's Notes: A sequel to Of Canines and Stags, this time from Harry’s POV.

Harry knows about his father.

Sure, James acts like any other father—he plays Quidditch with Harry when he’s home from Hogwarts, and tells Harry to eat his peas, and talks about how much he loved his wife… But Harry knows his mother was never the true love of James’s life.

Even if he’d never noticed anything else, he’s seen the looks James and Harry’s godfather, Sirius, exchange. And he’s seen the way both look at Remus, too. Sometimes Harry wonders if he, Ron and Hermione will ever be that close. And then he flushes, remembering just how close they are, and imagining he and his friends like that. At sixteen, the idea is too much to deal with.

He’s caught them at it a number of times, now. Harry’s not a kid. He knows what he’s seen. The way they press against each other when they’re walking past one another. Their secret kisses when they think he’s not looking. He knows what they mean. It all means that his dad is gay. Or that other term Hermione used when they talked about sexuality once, before he and Ron had to quickly change the subject—bisexual.

He wishes he could tell his dad it was okay, or at least, that he doesn’t mind, but he knows that James would not only be uncomfortable about it, but that he’d probably get angry if Harry mentioned it at all. After all, James prides himself on being very manly. Liking men is something he wouldn’t want to discuss. Least of all with his son.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it when he’s alone in his bedroom, or very late at night in his dorm at Hogwarts. He strokes himself to the sounds he’s heard Sirius making after they think he’s asleep. Especially his strangled “Moony,” or “Prongs.” Sometimes just the mention of his father’s nickname in casual conversation is enough to give Harry a boner, and he has to make his excuses and quickly find a place to hide so that he can wank.

When his father had told him Remus and Sirius would be living with them after his third year, Harry had been so excited. But he hadn’t realized what it meant until he’d accidentally opened a door he shouldn’t have, and found Sirius and Remus snogging.

Remus had been as embarrassed as Harry, but Sirius had shrugged it off as a matter of course, then asked if Harry wanted to go for a flying lesson as though nothing had happened. It hadn’t been until he’d gone to bed that night that he’d had a chance to think about it. He’d wondered why it hadn’t bothered him more. Why it made him feel how he did when he looked at Cho these days. Why he felt flushed thinking about it again. Did that mean he was gay, too? And did his dad know about Sirius and Remus?

The answer to that came a few nights later, when the three had thought Harry asleep in bed. He’d crept downstairs to get a glass of juice, and had seen the three by the fire, far too close together to just be talking. He hadn’t been able to understand their soft words, but the way they’d been pressed together had told Harry quite enough. That his dad knew. And that Harry himself found the image not only arousing, but something he wanted for himself.

The problem was, he didn’t have a clue who he would do something like that with. Finding one person to be with was hard enough. He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to find two. He didn’t want Remus and Sirius. They were too old. But Ron and Hermione…the image felt wrong, somehow. And not just because Hermione was a girl. After all, Ron and Hermione were his best friends, just like Sirius and Remus had been his father’s. He just didn’t think the two of them would be interested in sharing each other. Even if they hadn’t admitted what they wanted to themselves yet, Harry knew that it was only a matter of time before they realized how they felt about each other.

So instead, Harry thinks about what he’s seen his father and his father’s friends do when he’s at school. Wanks to the sound of Sirius’s grunts, Remus’s moans, his father swearing as he fucks one or both of them… It never fails to make him come.

And when he’s home, he waits and watches. Going to bed early to give them the chance to relax so that they will do what comes naturally. Then he sneaks into whatever room they’re in, using his dad’s cloak so they won’t see him, and watches.

Most times, he can’t quite make out what they’re doing. He can’t get close enough without them realizing he’s there, and he really doesn’t want them to catch on to the fact that he’s watching. But that’s okay. He can still hear them. And usually, that’s enough to send him right over the edge. Of course, he has to bite his own hand to keep from crying out as he comes while he watches. He wouldn’t want them to hear him, either.

Sometimes, though, Harry gets the full show. He’s able to see as Sirius fucks Remus, the twist of his hips that has Remus make that high whimpering sound. Sometimes he even watches his own father fuck Sirius, Remus kneeling over Sirius to suck his cock. Harry really likes watching that. He loves to see Remus’s tongue tracing the length of Sirius, or circling the head. The way Sirius’s hands fist in his hair to keep Remus there… It’s almost enough to make Harry wish it was him doing that, and not Remus. Or to be the one Remus was doing that to. Some days he wants it so much he can taste it.

He watches them until he comes, then slips carefully from the room so that they don’t hear him. He returns his father’s cloak to its hiding place before hurrying back to bed, where he snuggles under his blankets once more. Sometimes, once he’s safe in bed, he wanks again. And after, he curls up around a pillow, and falls asleep to the thought of a body on either side of him, curling lovingly around him; the thought of someday lulling him into sleep.
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