|springsmutfairy (springsmutfairy) wrote in hp_springsmut,|
@ 2008-03-13 16:30:00
|Entry tags:||fic, harry/ron/hermione, het, slash, threesome|
Happy Springsmut, midnightblue88!
Title: One Thousand Words
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Ron thought he'd entice his lovers but has the tables turned on him instead.
Warnings: masturbation, dirty talk, wall sex, EWE
Word Count: ~2,500
Author's Notes: midnightblue88's request can be found here. Thank you to F and B for the beta. Without them, this story wouldn't make much sense.
One Thousand Words
There does come a time when you can say no to your lover once too often. With Ron, that's the first time. He pouted and Apparated away. I heard from Neville the next morning that he'd slept on the sofa at the Burrow.
Honestly, it's not my fault we promised Hermione no shagging while she's in New York at some conference. I know I should know the name of the conference she's at – hell, even the subject – but one week of sexual frustration has destroyed my mind. Having Ron mad at me doesn't help.
A staccato knock sounds at my door before it eases open.
"Sir?" Dennis Creevey begins, slipping into my office.
He enters completely, closing the door to set the automatic security charms. After crossing the room, he slides a nondescript envelope onto my desk.
I lay one hand flat on the Tyvek envelope – Dennis tends toward using Muggle items, something that confounds some of the more elite clients.
"Are these the pictures I asked for?"
Dennis nods sharply. Dennis took up his brother Colin's photography habit after Colin was killed in the Final Battle. "They're not exactly what we expected." I raise my eyebrows. He grins. "I won't spoil them other than to say Ron had a hand in the extras. See for yourself." With that he exits my office, once again closing the door behind himself.
A special slicing spell of Hermione's creation cuts easily through the tough envelope. I give it a shake to spill the photos onto my desk. Dennis was right – the photos aren't what I expected.
What I had expected to find when I set Dennis on the trail of Lucius Malfoy were misdeeds and malfeasance. Turning a picture sideways for a better angle, I grin. What he has given me is even better: Lucius is Percy Weasley's submissive.
Once I've viewed all the photos – crowing with delight at the sight of the proper Lucius Malfoy as a ponyboy – I lift the envelope to slip them back in. The envelope isn't limp like an empty envelope should be, but stiff once again. Curious, I shake it and another photo falls out, this time with a Post-It stuck to the front and the photo itself completely black.
Frowning, I read Dennis's scrawl across the yellow paper: For Director H. J. Potter's Eyes Only.
My attention still on that mystery photo, I slide Lucius's pictures back into the envelope. I cast a detection spell on the blank photo. The only spell on it is a privacy spell. I pull the Post-It off, inadvertently triggering the revelation of the photo.
At first sight I'm hard as a rock.
The photo is of Ron and Hermione. I recognize the background as Dennis's studio but don't have any indication of when the photo was taken since Ron and Hermione are both nude. Actually, they're both naked since nude would imply artistic value; this picture is done in the Wizarding style and is designed for my prurient tastes. Hermione is kneeling between Ron's spread thighs, mouth wrapped around his cock and eyes not on Ron but on me as I hold the photo. Ron's heavy-lidded expression – also looking at me – tells me he's close to coming and enjoying every minute.
Though I wonder when they did this and how, considering how modest Ron is, after one week of abstinence when I'm used to daily sex, my body betrays me.
Pushing away from my desk, I palm myself, groaning at the contact. When Ron in the picture comes into Hermione's mouth, I tear at my robes and trousers to free myself. When Hermione lays back to finger herself, it only takes four strokes for me to come all over my hand, robes and trousers.
"Fuck," I mutter.
The door opens as I reach for my wand. Scrambling, I roll my chair forward, hiding the evidence and my undone trousers in the kneehole of my desk.
Luna enters with a small stack of files. I know I'm blushing but she doesn't seem to notice. Despite her odd quirks, or maybe because of them, she's been an excellent secretary to me. Few people challenge the excuses she gives for my limited time and she's utterly unflappable.
She sets the files on one corner of my desk, glancing briefly down. I hold my breath and wish she'd leave quickly since my hand and cock are now cold and sticky.
"I'm leaving for the day, Harry," she says. I tried to get her to call me "sir" when I was made Director, but she just looked at me and continued to call me Harry. I haven't tried again. "You have an early appointment with Kingsley tomorrow, so don't be late after fighting with Ronald again." My blush deepens. She turns and is nearly out the door, giving me the impression I'm safe, when she stops and says over her shoulder, "You might want to cover that picture. I don't think Ronald means for me to see so much of him."
After she closes the door, I quickly perform cleaning charms on myself and my clothing. Then I realize Luna could see the picture while I was touching it. I barely resist the urge to slam my head against my desk.
I need to find Ron. Actually, Hermione needs to come home so Ron and I can release our pent up frustration.
I shove the picture into my desk and ward the drawer before heading to the Ministry Apparition Point six floors above my office. By the time I reach the M.A.P., I've been stopped four times by staff and am both irritated and frustrated.
When I arrive home, everything is quiet, which surprises me. I'd expected Ron to be pouting in front of the telly. Brilliant piece of magic by Hermione to shield the telly from magic. The irony is that Ron watches it more than Hermione and me combined.
I make my way into the kitchen with the intention of making myself a bowl of soup.
Instead, I find Ron at the table nursing a Muggle whisky.
Something of a haze descends upon my conscious mind. I wouldn't say that I see red since that would imply anger, but whatever color is ascribed to lust clouds my vision and mind.
Ron looks up and, seeing me in the doorway, smiles.
His greeting is cut short when I yank him out of the chair and shove him against the wall. I barely register the confusion in his eyes before I descend to slam my lips to his, devouring him.
Though startled by my unexpected attack, it takes Ron only a moment to respond. He moves his hands from my shoulders, preparing to shove me away, to my waist, wrapping them around me to pull me snug against his body.
He's as hard as I am. Because he's taller, his cock presses like a brand into my hip while I grind myself against his thigh. I reach up and tangle one hand in his hair so I can yank his head to one side and feast upon his neck. I can feel as well as hear his groan and echo it with one of my own as he pulls my hips to his and grinds.
"When...when is Hermione due back?" he asks in a breathy voice punctuated by a moan.
"T'm'rrow," I murmur against his lips. "Not soon enough."
Before Ron can say anything in response, I tug at his clothing. He grips my shoulders as I yank apart his trousers and wrap my hand around his cock. His head slams against the wall as he arches into my grip.
"What...what brought this on?" he gasps.
I card my fingers into his hair to pull his head down. Rubbing against him, I growl, "Picture."
He looks puzzled for a moment, then grins as his face is suffused with a guilty flush. "That was supposed to arrive tomorrow."
"Bastard," I mutter, then capture his lips with mine. I stroke him faster, in time with my thrusts against his leg.
I almost miss the catch in his breath before he comes. If I didn't find it so erotic, I'd find the mess atrocious. Then again, there's not much negative I can say when, with a groan, I come in my trousers a moment later.
"Didn't know my picture was that inspiring," Ron says, grinning. I only grunt, all my energy going to keeping me standing upright.
"Oh, it was very inspiring," Hermione adds, voice pitched low.
Ron and I both turn to the doorway. There, framed by the jamb, is Hermione. The little blood I had in my brain flees south when I see her. I don't know how long she was watching us, but it was long enough to shed her robes, leaving them in a puddle at her feet. My mouth waters at the vision of her standing there in only two scraps of black lace.
"Fuck," Ron mutters.
Hermione releases the door jamb and takes three steps forward until she's just out of our reach. "Yes, that was the idea I gathered from that picture, Ron."
"Same picture?" I ask, surprise leeching into my voice.
Ron blushes even brighter red, but there's enough blood remaining to harden his cock in my hand. I stroke once and he groans. He sounds almost petulant when he replies, "I was tired of waiting. Hers was you and me."
Since I don't remember posing for any such picture, I comment, "Magic?" Ron nods sharply. "I love magic."
Hermione closes the distance between us. She reaches up, cups his face and tugs it down to hers. A smile on her lips and in her voice, she asks, "Randy?"
I bark a laugh as Ron grins sheepishly. "Hell, yes!" he answers. He disentangles himself from me so he can take Hermione in his arms.
I'm amused and more than a little aroused when, mouth fastened to hers, he lifts her onto the table. A minor adjustment of her knickers by shoving them to the side allows Ron to thrust into her.
Watching them, I'm hard as a rock again. Before unfastening my trousers, I cast a cleaning charm – or two – to clear away the earlier evidence.
The movement of me pulling my cock from my trousers catches Ron's eye. As he slides his hands up, shoving Hermione's bra up to pinch her nipples, he orders, "Hermione, suck Harry."
She trembles once, clutching at Ron's cock with the motion from his moan, and turns to me with a lascivious grin. Ron picks her up and takes a step to the side so she's on the edge of the table. I'm hesitant until she meets my eyes and licks her lips once.
I move two steps, and this has me at the table's edge and rubbing the head of my cock against Hermione's lips.
Ron groans again, watching us. "Damn, that's hot."
"No, it's hard," Hermione teases, opening her mouth and sucking me deep.
Ron has sucked my cock and enjoys doing it. He knows just where to put pressure and where to touch to get me off quickly. Hermione has more finesse, drawing out the experience until my eyes roll back in my head and I want to curse her and beg her at the same time.
This is no different.
Because it was a challenge and she loves challenges, Hermione learned to deep-throat both of us. And every time I feel the head of my cock slipping into her throat, it feels like the base of my spine melts.
I groan as my legs tremble. Leaning forward, I brace my left hand on the table above Hermione's head, trying at the same time to twist enough that Ron can still watch. Merlin knows I love to watch the same thing.
"Damn, I love you," Ron murmurs. Then, with a guttural groan, he grips Hermione's hips, drives deep into her, and comes.
Hermione trembles, visibly on edge.
Despite coming twice already, I feel that tell-tale tingle of being on edge myself once again. Because it's dirty and kinky, as soon as Ron pulls out and collapses into a chair, I pull out of Hermione's mouth so I can position myself between her thighs and take her as sloppy seconds.
"Harry," she pants, arching upward.
Did I mention that our Hermione, the studious bookworm, is a dirty, kinky girl? The first time Ron and I did this, she was horrified. The second time, she came twice and passed out from the second orgasm.
Hermione pants my name again, then Ron's, before trembling violently, arching her back and coming. She clenches tightly around my cock and I have to imagine that picture of Lucius and Percy to hold off my orgasm.
That is until Ron sidles in behind me, his chest to my back, his cock hard against the cleft of my arse. I still could hold back if he didn't start thrusting against me even as he reaches around to stroke Hermione's clit. Hermione now seems lost in a sort of daze, not quite climaxing but not quite fully recovered either. Ron pulls his hand away and she whimpers.
I can feel Ron's laugh as much as hear it and it makes me want to tremble. I'm lost, though, when he leans over to kiss my neck before biting it. The action short-circuits any ideas or methods I had for staving off my orgasm and sends me full-blown into it.
Trembling and moaning, I thrust hard into Hermione and come, sending her tumbling into her next orgasm. Ron thrusts against me, grunts, sighs, and comes, leaving a sticky, wet mess on my back and arse.
"Damn," I murmur, sliding slowly out of Hermione. She hums and shudders, but otherwise doesn't move. When I slip out of her entirely, her knickers slide back into place and I have to bite my lip at the image she presents.
Ron cuts to the quick of it with one statement from the chair in which he collapses. "You look like a debauched schoolmarm, Hermione."
She smiles, pleased. "Do I?"
I miss the chair entirely when I try to collapse into one myself, ending up on the floor. Imagining her dressed as primly as Professor McGonagall is something I can't handle right now without wanting her even more.
"You two are beyond wicked," I mutter, laying back. "You've corrupted me."
Hermione scoffs and sits up at that, glaring down at me. "And who was the Auror who wanted to use his magical handcuffs on Ron and play 'good Auror/bad Auror' with me?"
"I didn't mind," Ron adds.
Ron then tips his head to one side, studying me. "Did you get the evidence you wanted in that Malfoy case?"
I grin, sitting up again. "I got more than I was hoping for with those pictures."
"Care to discuss it in the bath?" Hermione suggests, sliding off the table and strolling down the hall, stripping as she goes.
Ron and I glance at each other before leaping up to follow Hermione. Work can wait.