Special delivery for cmeeks51 Title: The Birthday Boy Author: Recipient's LJ name:cmeeks51 Pairing(s): Ron/Hermione/Lavender Rating: NC17 Summary For Ron’s 35th birthday, he wants something a little bit unconventional, but can his wife get on board? Word Count: 2088 Warnings/Content: bondage, anal, toys, pwp, D/s, a very, very small amount of femslash. Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work. Please observe your local laws with regards to the age-limit and content of this work. Author's notes: I’m hoping that you enjoy this one cmeeks51, it was very fun to write :). Thanks to K for betaing, it was much appreciated.
It’s over breakfast one morning that he asks her. It’s February of course, and the kids are at Hogwarts so it’s just the two of them at the table. She’s got the paper, her nose buried in the business section, and Ron has the comics, as per their usual morning routine. It’s like every other morning (besides Ron playing footsie with her under the table like they were teenagers again) until he breaks the silence.
“I, uh, had an idea at work yesterday for what I want for my birthday…” Ron begins hesitantly.
Hermione looks up from her paper, one eye brow raised. “Oh really, what?”
Ron chuckles nervously. “Well, I overheard some other blokes talking about what his wife had gotten him for his own birthday….”
When Ron pauses, Hermione urges him on with her hand. “Well, go on then, what did she give him?”
Ron shakes his head, looking morose. “You probably won’t go for it.”
She scoffs. “I doubt that... besides I’ve been thinking about what to get you and drawing a blank.” She imagines what the woman might have given her husband and envisions the perfectly average birthday gifts, safe things, vanilla things.
Suddenly, Ron grins mischievously, the boyish expression on his face making his cobalt eyes sparkle which then sends her heart careening in her chest. “Well…” he begins, “it’s like this….”
****
There’s fear, a healthy dose of it that makes her nervous, but she knows there is no going back… there is no longer room for ‘what if’s. At the time, when Ron had first voiced his desire for dominance he had made it sound so good that she had been able to look passed his wanting another woman there with them. He’d explained that first he wanted to show her the things he wanted to try before they themselves tried it out. Hermione, shocked beyond words, but excited at the same time, had nodded and then they’d sealed the deal on the kitchen table, a preview of the night that was to come. At first she had that one little night couldn’t hurt, but the moment Lavender Brown stepped into their home, doubts rushed in.
And so Hermione Weasley finds herself tied to their head board and footboard so that she’s spread eagled, her mouth is gagged, and she has a perfect view of her husband’s cock pressing into Lavender’s arse. And truthfully, Hermione is beyond horny, she just doesn’t want to admit it.
When Ron had told her that he’d wanted a threesome for his 35th birthday, he hadn’t mentioned anything about anal sex, or the gags, or the ropes, or the blindfold covering Lavender’s eyes. But the unknown, not knowing what he has planned, is exciting and extremely arousing.
Ron’s fingers dig hard into Lavender’s hips an arse as he tugs her slowly back onto his cock, shiny with lube and underneath that Hermione’s saliva. The sound of Lavender’s harsh breathing through her nose fills the room as he painfully stretches her arse for the first time. Ron is holding her wide open, cheeks spread by his own hands, watching as he disappears inside of her, moving in deeper and deeper until her arse is cradled in his hips.
He’s breathing heavy now too, and he flexes his hips, grinding the root of his dick into her arse and Lavender whimpers through the gag. Hermione bites her lip and makes a little noise too, feeling her arousal coating the insides of her thighs. Ron, his eyes heavy lidded, turns to glance in her direction.
“Watch, Hermione,” he orders softly.
She can’t help but not watch as he withdraws slowly, letting go of Lavender’s arse to caress her back and hips. When just the tip is still inside of her, he thrusts forward, grabbing onto the tie that holds Lavender’s hands bound behind her back for leverage. He fucks her this way for a minute, pulling hard on the tie to drag her back, pulling painfully on her shoulders. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills their bedroom, along with the wet, squelchy sounds of sex. Hermione wonders if maybe he’s hurting her, but Lavender isn’t pulling away and she isn’t fighting, even a little bit.
Gradually he slows until he’s just thrusting shallowly, and then he stills, letting go of Lavender’s wrists. He reaches for his wand and with a flick Lavender’s wrists are untied. She lifts herself, Ron’s cock shifting inside of her, until she’s supporting her weight on her hands, a far more comfortable position. “Fuck yourself on my cock,” Ron instructs, voice forcefully commanding and Hermione shivers at his tone. Lavender begins to rock back in forth, perfectly manicured fingernails digging into the bed sheets.
Before the night started, Ron had brought out an unmarked bag and had placed it on the bed. Hermione had forgotten about it until he began to rifle through it, pulling out a long, thick, flesh coloured dildo. He runs it tantalizing down Lavender’s back, over her shoulder blades and then to the cleft of her arse. Her movements falter and he picks them up for a moment, fucking fast and hard until she screams through the gag.
“Did I say you could stop?” he asks, running the dildo around her hip and down her belly until he reaches her slit.
He slides it up and down, to where he’s buried in her arse and then to her clit, the toy becoming covered in her juices. Lavender, her face red and sweaty, and her limbs shaking in an effort to stay upright, throws her head back as he slips the head of the fake cock into her folds. He teases her with it for several seconds, sliding it into her heat an inch or two before withdrawing it completely. Ron runs it around her clit, clicking the button that makes it vibrate, and he holds it there, against her bundle of nerves until she cries out in orgasm. He turns up the speed on the toy mid-orgasm, and she withers and screams from the over stimulation, bucking against him.
Ron moves it down only when she’s on the brink of collapse and slides it into her wet, still convulsing cunt. He taps the toy with his wand and it begins to move quickly inside of her, still vibrating at full speed.
Ron, able to feel the vibrations strongly through the thin wall of skin separating himself from the toy, groans loudly and begins to thrust again; moving in time with the thrusting toy.
Hermione, able to see, and to smell, and to hear, but completely unable to touch herself, is now far past the point of being just randy. The fear is gone now, and replaced with the longing to be in Lavender’s place. She wants to feel what the other woman is feeling, or at least something; she’s still bound, spread eagled to the bed, and she’s aching for anything. She makes a noise in the back of her throat and lifts her hips off the bed as much as she can.
Ron, towering over the bed like a steely eyed hawk (kneeling the way that he is), slows his thrusts, and grins at his wife. He pulls another vibrator out of his bag of goodies, this one smaller and slimmer than the first but coloured a bright, flirty, magenta. Hermione, knowing it’s for her, finally, shivers in anticipation. But when he moves it forward, sliding it softly across Lavender’s cheek, Hermione groans in frustration. He pulls the gag away and presses the vibrator against Lavender’s swollen, red lips.
“Get it nice and wet for Hermione,” Ron instructs. Lavender’s mouth falls open obediently, and Ron slides the vibrator into her mouth and over her tongue.
Filled with cock, both fake and real, Lavender sucks hard on the plastic toy, letting saliva slide down her chin and down the toy. As Lavender sucks, Ron reaches for his wand once more and with a few whispered words Hermione is free, unbound now on the bed.
“Move to your hands and knees,” her husband instructs.
Shaking, she does so. With her face turned away, she’s surprised when she feels Ron’s fingers on her arse, kneading her flesh before parting her cheeks and running a lubed finger softly over her sensitive skin. Slowly Ron works his finger into her, murmuring “relax” when she tenses.
Hermione’s head spins as he adds more lube and then a second finger, moving them back and forth. There’s pain, but she expected that, it’s the feeling of newness, of being full that is pleasurable for her. Ron removes his fingers from her and she hears movement behind her, a wet pop, some shuffling, and then gasps when she feels the saliva soaked vibrator against her arse. He teases for a moment, skimming the toy over her skin and spreading the wetness, before beginning to slide it in. He moves it deep until the wide base of it is flush against her skin; then, tapping it with his wand, it begins to move on its own, thrusting long and deeply.
Arms shaking, Hermione gasps and whimpers, her body pulsing and aching as the bright pink toy fucks her.
Behind her the sounds of harsh fucking increase – Ron’s grunts and curses and Lavender’s screams (Hermione is passed caring if they’re in pleasure or pain) rising in volume until he reaches his climax. The bed stops moving, the squeaking of the springs turning silent, and then the loudest sound in the room is the vibrator buzzing loudly in Lavender’s cunt.
The blonde woman is breathing hard and fast as Ron slips out of her well fucked arse, his spunk dribbling out of her body to the sheets below. She is mumbling incoherently, a mixture of oh Gods and fucks while Ron also pulls the slippery wet toy from her. Lavender mewls in disappointment, suddenly empty. “No please, wait, so close…” she mutters, voice raspy.
“Quiet,” Ron orders, moving on the bed towards his wife.
Hermione, her fingers moving furiously against her clit, seeking the release that she so badly wants, jumps when Ron’s hand closes around her forearm. “Did I say you could do that?”
Hermione looks up, eyes meeting Ron’s blue ones and shakes her head. She’s beginning to really like this game, this side of him.
“I’ll guess you’ll just have to be punished then, won’t you?”
A shiver of excitement skitters up her spine and Hermione nods her head, the pink toy continuing to thrust in and out of her arse. Ron crouches next to her and his fingers slide through the wetness between her legs. He makes a tsking sound.
“Mrs. Weasley, I’m thinking you might be enjoying this.”
She doesn’t deny it.
Ron pulls the vibrator out of her arse and sets it aside; he reaches for the larger one, still warm and sticky from Lavender, and slips just the head of it into her folds. He kisses along her lower back and thighs, tongue dancing along her skin, as he moves the thick toy further inside of her. When he thrusts the vibrator all the way in, to the heavy, fake balls at the end, he answers her moan with a slap to her behind.
Her eyes widen and she turns her head to look over her shoulder.
“I said you were going to be punished,” he says, spanking her again, red hair curling and askew.
Hermione’s eyes roll back into her head, letting herself be carried away in the sensation, thinking that she’s going to like this part of the game too. But then the feeling of soft feminine hands against her breasts and long, slim fingers teasing her aching nipples, is a surprise, at first unwelcome. Then, when Lavender’s mouth closes over one of Hermione’s rosy nipples, Ron’s hand stills above his wife’s now red arse.
“Now that’s really hot…” he utters, watching as Lavender sucks and licks.
Lavender grins against the other woman’s breast.
“Take the vibrator in hand, Lavender,” he whispers huskily, an idea forming in his mind.
She grasps the base of the vibrator as told, moving it shallowly. He smirks in approval. “Fuck her with it, I want to hear my wife scream.”
Hermione does, most of the night, until her body is sore in the morning. But she wakes not with a wince but with a smirk to match her husband’s… she knows precisely what she wants for her own birthday.