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"Yes, Mum." Hermione huffed, amber eyes rolling as she tried—unsuccessfully—to punch in the code that would allow her access to her building. To say her birthday had been a massive failure would have been giving the day far too much credit.
It all started when Crookshanks woke her up twenty minutes before her alarm was set to go off, because heaven forbid that he not be fed promptly at six in the morning. Her shower was cold—yet again, because the slumlord that owned the building refused to look at the water heater. And McGonagall's got her coffee order wrong!
All hope that her day might improve completely vanished when fifteen minutes after walking into the bloody building, Snape called her into his office to chew her out over her 'excessive use of the oxford comma' in her latest article—because clearly he had nothing better to do than ruin her morning on her fucking birthday of all days.
Of course, his incessant lecture on grammar wouldn't have been so bad, had he not helped himself to a slice of her birthday cake just thirty minutes later.
By the time the evening bell rang—signaling the end to a truly torturous day, Hermione wanted nothing more than to buy a nice (see: inexpensive, twist top and a bit too sweet) bottle of wine from Tesco, put on her pajamas and forget that she'd just turned thirty with nothing to show for it except a recently ended engagement, a grumpy old cat and an extra stone in what her mother kept referring to as 'mourning weight'—as if she was still pining over her piece of shit ex-fiancé after calling off their engagement after finding him ball's deep in her division secretary at their employee appreciation party over the summer.
Twenty-nine had been fucking miserable, and so far, thirty wasn't looking that great either.
"Look—I am not having this conversation on my birthday, Mum. No, I will not call Ronald. No, I am not going to the bloody gym, and No, I am not going to go on a date with your gardener's grandson." She hissed into the receiver as she watched the little red light on top of the keypad blink, yet again, denying her access to the warm and dry lobby just on the other side of the glass door. "Fucking hell. I've got to go, okay? I'll call you tomorrow."
Snatching her phone from where she'd held it between her ear and her cheek, Hermione jammed her thumb over the large red button, ignoring the muffled voice of her mother pleading her to stay on the line. Stuffing her phone into the back pocket of her denim trousers, Hermione shook the cold from her fingers, flexing them as if it was the cold that was preventing them from pressing the right buttons and not her inability to remember the bloody passcode.
Seven-Three-Five-Nine
Blink-Blink-Blink
"You fucking cunt!" Hermione kicked at the door, her trainer leaving a black streak against the glass and she let out a small growl. This was great—just what she fucking needed. It was nearly seven at night, Crookshanks had probably already clawed up her throw pillows in retaliation for her tardiness, and the drizzle of rain that had hung in the sky all day was soaking through her jumper, and going straight to her bones.
"Need some help?"
Bugger.
Stuffing her cold hands into her pocket, Hermione turned, forcing a smile as a slow blush swept over her cheeks that she prayed she could pass off as chill from the rain. "uhh…yeah, actually. It won't take my code."
Draco Malfoy—hot neighbor extraordinaire, frequent visitor of her late-night fantasies, stood just on the step below her, the corner of his lips lifted in that smirk that made her insides quiver. When he moved across the hall from her last year, she was grateful for the eye candy. The previous tenant, Mr Filch, was an arse—to say the least. She'd been happily engaged at the time but was still able to admire the Adonis of a man as he moved his things into the flat across from hers.
She'd made small talk in the beginning, welcoming him to the building during his first week, and said hullo anytime they'd happen to cross paths. He seemed nice enough—a smart dresser, fit, and based on the food deliveries she'd seen left on his porch, he had nice taste in wine (see: expensive). For a while she wondered why she never saw him with any women—he clearly had some fault that kept them at bay. In the end, it wasn't a fault at all, but rather a preference.
Theo.
His preference was Theo—though to be fair, Hermione would happily admit she had a preference for his equally as handsome boyfriend, as well.
She'd been coming home from work late one night, having stayed well into the early hours of the morning at Snape's request. She was tired, hungry and ready to crawl in bed with the pint of Shrimp Fried Rice she'd picked up from Lotus Flower's on the way home and not stop for air until she hit the bottle of the box. She made it into the building successfully that night, and was waiting in the darkened lobby when the lift doors open to reveal Draco and Theo—or rather, the back of Draco's head over Theo's crotch.
She stood frozen, wide eyes as she watched Theo's hand slip into the platinum blond hair, fisting on the back of his head, encouraging him along. She'd seen porn before—she was twenty-nine years old, who hadn't at that age, but she'd never seen something like that in person.
The sound of her dropping her rice seemed to startle both men out of whatever drink induced frenzy they'd fallen into, but before a word could slip from either of their tongues' the lift doors shut and Hermione decided that taking the stairs was a far greater option that particular night.
Technically, that had been the first time she saw Theo, but since then he'd become a frequent visitor of Draco's flat.
A couple weeks after catching them in the act, Draco introduced her to his partner one evening in the lobby while they fetched their post from the mailboxes, and soon she was greeting the tall dark-haired man just as frequently as she did Draco. They never spoke of the incident—thank fuck, and Hermione pretended like she wasn't intimately acquainted with their private life every time they passed each other in the hall.
"Let me have a go." Draco gestured to the keypad with a playful lift of his brows.
Hermione nodded, snatching the white plastic bag that her bottle of wine from beside her feet and she flattened herself against the wall, trying to provide him enough space and not have to stand in the downpour of rain.
"Did I hear it was your birthday?" Draco gave her a quick glance, eyes flickering down her form before he turned his attention to the keypad so he could punch in his code.
"Unfortunately." Hermione made sure his back was turned towards her before she let her eyes lower to admire his backside—particularly the way his trousers hugged his muscular thighs and the roundness of his arse. Biting her bottom lip, she let her head tilt to the side—it was her birthday, after all, she could look. It wasn't like he was gay in her fantasies.
When the sound of the mechanical lock unlatching buzzed, she pulled her eyes up and let out a small huff in irritation, because of course it worked for him and not her.
"Unfortunately? That doesn't some like you've had a good day." Draco pushed open the door, but didn't make a move to go inside, instead lifted his arm and gave a small nod of his head to indicate she should slip in first.
"I've had…a day." Hermione moved inside, the bag holding her wine swinging with each step she took towards the lift.
"So, how old are you?"
"Isn't it rude to ask a woman her age?" Hermione playfully narrowed her eyes at him when he settled beside her, his fingers already working open the buttons to his thick coat to reveal a fitted charcoal oxford underneath.
Draco hummed with amusement, gray eyes flashing up to her through his thick blond lashes. "Ahh, you didn't hear? The rule doesn't apply to me."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
"And why is that exactly?"
"Oh, you know—aristocratic blood, family secrets, etcetera, etcetera…" His hand lifted in a small rolling motion in front of him before he shrugged his thick coat from his shoulders and folded it over his arm in front of him. "So, you have the answer. It's like law or something."
"I don't have to do anything. Blue blood or not." When the lift doors chimed open, Hermione slipped inside and pressed the button to their floor, smirking as she watched him saunter in after her. There was no harm in telling him—but the autonomy of not letting him know allowed her to pretend like she hadn't slipped into a new age bracket with nothing to show for it.
Draco leaned on the wall beside her, long legs crossing at the ankles, silence falling between them as the lift slowly began its climb in their building. She cast sly out of the corner of her eye, chewing on her bottom lip as the memory of him kneeling in that exact same spot replayed in her mind—and like it often did, she allowed her imagination to run wild, thinking of things he and Theo did together once in the safety of their flat.
They were nearly to the fourth floor—almost to freedom, when he broke the comfortable silence. "You know…we've never actually talked about what you saw."
"W-what?" Hermione squeaked, actually fucking squeaked like some teenager who'd been caught with a joint. Gulping she looked up to Draco, eyes wide. He couldn't remind minds, could he? No, there was no way he had no idea what she was just thinking about, but clearly, by the knowing sparkle in the endless pools of gray, he had at least some notion of the depraved memory.
"Me and Theo…"
"Oh…that."
"Did you…have any questions?"
Who topped who? Was it a switch-hitting type of situation? Exactly how big was Theo's cock—she'd got a glimpse, but she needed confirmation.
"…Nope." Forcing the tiniest hint of a smile on her lips, Hermione thanked whatever god graced her with at least some good fortune and had them arrive at their floor at that very moment. Rushing out of the lift, she didn't even bother to look over her shoulder when she tossed him a fleeting wave. "Night Draco!"
Her trainer squeaked with each step on the linoleum floor. She was practically running by the time she reached her front door. She began to pat her pockets for her keys, trying her best to make it into the safety of her home before he came close again.
Not her front pocket, not her back…better check the front again—just in case.
"Fuck!" Dropping the wine to the floor with a soft thunk, she lifted her purse from her hip, yanking it open to fumble through the piles of receipts she'd stuffed inside, praying she hadn't done exactly what she was beginning to suspect she did. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"You really do have a filthy mouth, don't you?" Draco sauntered up the hallway behind her, spinning his one keys around his index finger with that loose hipped swagger that made her mouth run dry.
"Heh—yeah." She forced out with a nervous bubble of laughter as she moved the contents of her purse around once more, for good measure—as if her keys were hidden between the Tesco receipt and Milka wrapper she'd stuffed inside earlier.
"Lose your keys?" Behind her she could hear him slot his key in his lock and push open his front door.
"They're not lost, per say." Zipping her purse shut once she realised her effort was fruitless, she turned to look at Draco, who still lingered in his doorway, hand curled around the brass handle of his door.
"Oh, so they're hiding, are they?"
"Exactly. Tricky bastards—like to run away."
"And are you aware of their approximate location?"
"Uhhh…yup." She said with a slow nod, slumping back on her door. "On the counter….at Tesco on Third and Peabody. They're keen on visiting that counter pretty often—I think like it there. I'm beginning to suspect they're in a relationship with the chewing gum, if I'm being honest."
Draco stifled a laugh as he shook his head, pressing the tip of his tongue against his canine and he glanced between the inside of his flat and her twice before he pushed open his door with a small shove. "Come on, then."
"Oh, no. It's okay. I'll be fine here." Patting the door behind her. "I'll just wait out the rain and then pop on down to the store and grab them."
Draco lifted a brow incredulously, his lips pulling to the corner of his mouth and he clicked his tongue at her. "Get in my flat, Granger. It's your bloody birthday—no one deserves to sit alone in a dreary hallway waiting out a storm. Besides, you'll be far more comfortable on my couch with a glass of real wine—not sipping from a bottle of whatever trash it is you've bought from Tesco."
Even she could admit the offer was tempting—sure, she'd never been in his flat before, but he did have good taste in wine. He probably made enough money to actually run the heater and not hide under swaths of blankets to fight the cold. Chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes narrowed as she looked at him—as if trying to decipher his hidden motive for getting her inside her flat before pushed off the wall, tucking the bag under her arm. "My Tesco Rose is perfectly acceptable, as a point of reference. I'm not a bloody sommelier."
Draco clicked his tongue as she moved past him, a shite eating grin spread across his lips as she crossed the threshold into his house. Closing the door behind him, he hung his coat on the rack beside his door before fishing his phone from his pocket as he toed off his loafers.
His flat was nice—as to be expected. Filled with expensive looking furniture, and a television that took up an entire wall. She couldn't help the wave of envy that rose up inside her as she glanced around his room, taking it all in. He was handsome, evidently came from money, and had an eye for design. How she had missed the bloody neon sign that claimed his preference in the same sex from the very beginning was almost comical.
"Sweet or dry?"
Hermione lifted a brow, watching Draco cross the room, his eyes still glued to his mobile, thumbs firing off a message as he moved towards his kitchenette. "Uh...sweet?" Taking his cue, she slipped off her trainers and bent at the waist to remove her mismatched socks and hastily hide them in her shoes before moving into his living room to claim a space on his couch.
The polished leather felt like heaven—his couch didn't even have one bloody lump in it—or patched hole. She wagered to guess he bought it new from the store—so unlike her couch that she'd knicked off the side of the road coming back from Wiltshire last spring. Running her finger along the seam on the arm, she admired the craftsmanship before slipping her coat off and she tossed it across his ottoman.
"Theo will pick up your keys on his way home."
"Oh, he doesn't have to—"
"He was stopping by Alfonso's to pick up dinner, anyways. It's no bother." Draco moved towards her, an oversized wine glass in each hand and when he drew close, he held one towards her. "I told him to pick up some extra—it is your birthday after all."
This was...more than she deserved. Wine. Dinner. Two handsome men. Her luck had been bad for so long, she wasn't even aware that people could be this nice willingly. Taking the glass, she nodded her head in a small thank you before bringing it to her lips, taking a small sip.
It was good—really fucking good. Her eyes widened as she lifted the glass, letting the soft light trickle through the burgundy liquid before she took another, much larger sip.
"Slow down, Granger." Draco laughed as he settled beside her, his arm resting on the back of the couch, his legs crossed at the lean. "You're meant to savior this—let it's flavors dance across your tongue, not guzzle it."
Dance across your tongue. Jesus, did everything he said have to be an innuendo, or was she interpreting it as such because of his good looks? A soft pink blush warmed her cheeks as she let the wine glass rest on her thighs. "So...is it like in your lots handbook—befriend the frumpy next-door neighbor and ply her with wine on shite days, or are you honestly just this nice?"
"Well, I am charming by nature—but, what do you mean you lot?" Draco cocked his brow, lifting his glass to take a slow sip as his gray stare seemed to penetrate the dark recesses of her mind, making heat pool low in her belly.
"You know...gay men." Hermione explained, shifting on the couch so her back pressed against the arm so she could face him better.
Draco sputtered, droplets of wine splashing on his cheeks and he quickly leaned forward to set his glass down on side table as he wiped his cheeks with his long fingers. "I'm sorry—uh...I'm not gay."
Not gay? She'd seen him blowing his boyfriend! He dressed like he belonged in a fucking catalog. Draco was most definitely not straight. "Uh...yes you are." She said with a small nod. "You have a boyfriend..."
"No, I don't."
"Draco, I saw you two." Hermione deadpanned, her fingers flexing around the delicate wine glass nervously.
"You saw me sucking his cock in the lift, Granger. That doesn't mean we're dating—and it definitely doesn't make me gay." Draco clarified, steadily holding her gaze, leaving little room for her to counter his edict.
A nervous bubble of laughter worked up her throat, squeaking to life as she held his gaze. "I...don't understand." She wasn't naive to the spectrum that was sexuality—her best friend was queer for Christ sakes, but some things—like sucking someone's cock and spending all your free time with them were pretty black and white—weren't they?
Draco hummed in amusement as he sunk back into the couch, tapping his index finger against the top as a slow laugh slipped off his tongue. "So, when I asked if you had any questions...you lied when you said you didn't?"
"No. I didn't have any—I mean, technically speaking I wouldn't had you not forced me into your flat. But...since I'm here...what do you mean when you say you're not gay? Is it like...a sexual fluidity and today you don't feel like it—or like...is it a 'I just like blowing blokes on the side' or—"
"I'm attracted to both men and women, Granger." Draco explained, curling his arm so he was leaning on his elbow, rubbing his index finger across his eyebrow with a smile that was sharp enough to cut. "Truthfully, it's not that complicated. You're an educated woman, it shouldn't be that difficult to grasp."
"Okay, fine. Bisexuality accepted, but Theo is clearly your boyfriend." Lifting her glass from her lap, she uncurled her index finger to point at him before taking another mouthful of the sweet wine, praying the effects would kick in sooner than later to calm her rapidly beating heart.
"Wrong again, I'm afraid." Draco laughed.
"But you spend all of your time together."
"And?"
"A-and?! And you were blowing him in the fucking lift, Draco. Individually they don't add up to a relationship—but together...well, it's pretty bloody safe to assume you're in a relationship." Hermione rushed out, her eyes widening as she watched him just tip his head back, more of his laughter filling the room.
"Theo and I... have an understanding of sorts—if you must label it, it's purely…physical. Just a means to an end while we try to find what we're both missing."
Missing? Had they lost something? What on earth could two impossibly handsome men be missing long enough for them to start shagging one another?!
But before she could press, Draco continued.
"A woman—specifically one we share."
Share.
They wanted...a woman...to share.
Her hand trembled as she lifted the wine glass back to her lips, no longer caring if he thought poorly of her as she drank the contents in three large gups. He was joking—right? He had to be joking.
Any moment Theo was going to walk into the flat and tell her Draco was just taking the mickey, and then they'd laugh—and laugh, and eat pasta, drink more wine, and laugh some more. Because there was no fucking way that this could be real fucking life.
"You wouldn't be interested, would you?"
"Ha!" A burst of nervous laughter spilled from her throat and Hermione leaned forward, replacing her empty wine glass for his full one and she took a quick sip. She was not prepared for this conversation—she was not prepared to be propositioned by her hot next-door neighbor on her birthday. She glanced at him as she leaned back on the couch, watching a flicker of uncertainty flash in his eyes and she almost felt bad.
Her reaction wasn't that unfound, was it? He'd just told her that, not only, he wasn't gay, but that he and his equally handsome fuck buddy were looking for a woman to share—and if she was interested in applying for the position, he was accepting application on both of their behalf.
What was she supposed to say? 'No, Draco. I am not interested in being the middle to your hot-man sandwich. How rude of you to assume that I, Hermione Jean Granger, would ever be interested in such a depraved thing.' Because declining didn't seem like a viable option—especially not, considering the amount of heat that had begun to pool in her knickers at his mere proposition.
"I'm sorry—I just...this was not what I was expecting." Hermione ran her tongue across her lips, collecting the droplets of wine that lingered and she leaned forward to set the now empty glass down.
"If you're not interested—"
"I never said that." The words came unbidden, and honestly, shocked her more than they appeared to shock him. Did she want this? Of fucking course, she did, but...this was not something one could exactly prepare for. "I just...have a lot of questions—"
"Which I will happily answer." Draco scooted closed, his eyes shimmering with what could only be described as anticipation. His thigh brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity running up her limb from where they'd touched.
"—and I'll need more wine—"
"I have a cabinet full."
"—and I need to go home, before we do absolutely anything." Hermione bit her lip, watching, unable to move as he drew closer still, until his face was mere inches from hers.
"Why on earth would you do that?" His breath ghosts across the sensitive skin on her face, and she shivered, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the slow ache that began to bloom to life between them.
"To change...into my good knickers." She whispered, already lost in the endless pools of silver that swirled within his eyes. It had to be the wine that inhabited her speech so—and truthfully, she should be embarrassed, but when she felt the brush of his fingertips on her cheek, she couldn't find an ounce of care left within her.
"That would be foolish," His voice was syrupy, low and liquid, caressing her most hidden desires. He angled her head back as he began to close the rapidly disappearing space between their lips. "you won't be wearing them for long anyways."
Her scalp stung as he fisted her chestnut curls, his mouth finding hers with a roguish confidence that she was fairly certain should be illegal. Before her mind could catch up to what was happening, his tongue was in her mouth, mercilessly claiming every last part of her, leaving no stone unturned.
This wasn't happening—was it? This felt like the beginning to a thousand different fantasies she'd visited before, but now that this was truly happening, the confidence she felt in her dreams was long lost.
She was so focused on their kiss, that she barely registered his serpentine hand as it dropped to her waist, his long fingers slipping in her belt look and pulling her into his lap. Her knees pressed against his hips, body molding against his as if they were made for one another.
Draco sucked lightly on her tongue, stealing the very breath from her lungs before his lips left hers so he could lick and nibble down the column of her throat. Her mind spun, trying to catch up to the present as his hands slipped under her shirt and up her back, pulling the soft cotton across her skin until it was pulled over her head.
"D-Draco," she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed when his tongue lapped the soft spot behind her ear, causing her hips to rock forward involuntarily to try and relieve the fierce ache that bloomed to life the moment his lips met hers.
She felt his hands walk her spine to the band of her bra and before his name could be uttered, he quickly unhooked the clasps until the garment lay loose on her shoulders. His hands spread across her skin, stroking his way over her ribs and up her sides until his fingers curled around the straps of her bra on her shoulders. His knuckles drug across her skin, adding petrol to the fire that burned so brightly within her—making the act of pulling the straps down her arms erotic with his confident and slow determination to lay her bare before him.
Distantly, she couldn't help but wonder how many times this very scenario occurred with previous neighbors. He had to have done this before, he was far to practiced. But the moment his hand cupped her breast, his index finger and thumb plucking lightly at her nipple until it grew to a hardened peak, she no longer cared. He could have shagged the bloody Queen in front of her and she would have been okay with it so long as he kept touching her.
Heavy breath turned to soft moans, her spine arching into his wicked fingers and she rocked her hips forward, brushing her throbbing cunt across the distinct bulge in his trousers. "Oh fuck," She gasped as she felt him rock against her, her hands curling around his shoulders for purchase as she let herself get lost in the delicious stroke of his cock against her.
His lips ran down across her chest, leaving hot trails in the wake until his lips wrapped around her nipple, tongue lavishing the pebble skin before he nibbled lightly on the sensitive bud. Her hand moved to the back of his head, pressing him further into her chest. Her stomach was tense—wrought with built up energy. It had been a while since she'd last fooled around with anyone—months since she'd ended her engagement, but she couldn't remember it this bloody good.
His hands hand fanned across her ribs, curling into her skin, compressing her lungs so each time she filled her lungs she struggled against the pressure of his hold. He worked between her breasts, sucking, and tugging lightly on her nipples as he rolled over until she sat pressed against the couch, and his body crushing hers against the soft leather.
His hands drug down to her hips, over the soft of her stomach, to the button of her jeans and flicked it open with his thumb which an awe-inspiring finesse as he tugged her trousers and knickers over her hips.
Eager to assist, Hermione pulled back, gently easing him back so she could lift her legs and slip her feet from the tapered bottom of her trouser legs. Settling back on the couch, her hands moved to push her wild mane of curls back across her head as she looked back to him.
His chest heaved with rugged breath as he watched her, his hands posed on the edge of the couch cushion on either side of her hip, pupils blown wide. He looked like a man possessed—driven to madness and she knew she wasn't far from off.
His tongue swept across his lips as he wrapped a hand around each of her ankles, lewdly parting her legs and guiding her feet to rest on the couch cushion she sat on. "Christ, you look—" His voice was husky, almost unrecognizable from the crisp baritone she'd heard only moments earlier. "—delicious."
Her hands trembled against her scalp, and she fought the urge to cover the exposed parts of her body to hide from his inspection, as she normally would have done. For some reason, under his gaze—under his touch, she didn't want to hide. She wanted him to see what he did to her—just how wet his touch made her.
Releasing his hold on her ankles, Draco ran his hands up the long lines of her legs, over her knees to settle against the flat of lower abdomen. His thumbs swept low, brushing across the trimmed curls between her thighs and he gently parted her folds. "Fuck Granger," he hissed, eyes darkening. "You're soaked."
She nodded lamely, unable to find a single word to say, and thankfully, it appeared as if he wasn't waiting for a reply, because he lowered between her legs only seconds later. His tongue pressed against her cunt—hot, wet, delicious as he tasted the most intimate part of her.
Her hand moved to the back of his head as she arched off the couch, rocking her hips against his eager mouth as his held her legs parted with the point of his elbows. He was good—so very fucking good. It could be the wine that she'd practically shot gunned, or maybe just the build from dreaming of this so for fucking long, but she could feel the steady build of her inevitable climax with each flick of his tongue.
Alternating between her clit, and her entrance, Draco continued his depraved assault, clearly intent on making her spontaneously combust. The coil wound tighter and tighter, until it felt razor thin, her body just barely hanging onto this plain of existence. She was so close—so ready. Her thighs quivered around his head, fingers scratching lightly as his scalp. She needed just a little more—
"Started without me?"
Hermione's eyes flicked open, a sharp gasp that she realised was her own echoing around her as she looked across the living room to the source of the noise.
Theo was standing in the doorway, his lips curled in wicked amusement, exposing the pearly whites of his teeth. He let the front door shut behind him, carelessly, dropping his set of keys and the paper bag that contained what Hermione could only assume was the takeaway order on the small table that sat beside the front door.
Draco hummed in response, the vibration causing her to let out a loud whimper as pleasure rippled through her, curling her toes. It was only when she tugged on his hair, he lifted his mouth from her dripping cunt to look up to Theo. "Only just, isn't that right Granger?"
Hermione gulped, trying to rid herself of the rapidly forming lump in her throat as she watched Theo approach, divesting himself of his clothing along the way. His jacket and shirt hit the floor before he'd even taken two steps into the flat, following closely by his belt and loafers. By the time he reached Draco, his crisp navy trousers were pooled around his ankles.
Sinking to his knees beside Draco, Theo reached out and guided the blond to him for a slow, searing kiss. Hermione watched, dumbstruck as his tongue snaked into Draco mouth, slowly devouring him.
Theo sucked on Draco's lower lip as he parted, a low hum rumbling from his chest. "Mmm...she tastes good on your tongue." Theo whispered, tongue running along his lips as he turned from Draco to look up at Hermione, a lecherous grin spread across his lips as his eyes flickered between her face and her cunt.
"Why don't you finish her off?" Draco scooted back, gesturing in front of him to offer the prime real estate of between her thighs to his friend. "She's ready to come for us—aren't you, love?"
Hermione sat frozen; her mind stuck in a lust driven loop as she watched Theo scoot closer towards the apex of her thighs. Could she talk? No, she was certain that ability to stolen from her the moment Draco's mouth pressed against her cunt.
Draco let out a dark chuckle as she nodded, and he rose from his tall kneel, fingers unbuttoning the cuffs of oxford sleeves and he slipped the garment over his head effortlessly before making quick work of his trousers. He wore no shorts underneath—like some sort of sex god, ready to ravage her at a moment's notice.
Theo's mouth felt like fire—hot, engulfing and fast moving as he took up Draco's place between her parted thighs. He was rough, just as he had been moments earlier while kissing Draco, his fingers curling into the softness of her inner thighs, parting her legs wider for him as he delivered powerful, fast flicks against her clit.
Draco fisted his cock as he watched, alternating between watching Theo, and her as he crawled onto the couch beside her. His cheeks were flush, tinting his pale skin pink. "You look so fucking beautiful with Theo between your thighs, Granger." Draco purred, half-lidded eyes locking on hers.
If it was possible to get drunk off words, Hermione would have been a lush. Now that she'd heard the primal purr, she wasn't sure she would be able to live a day without its caress ever again.
Draco moved closer still, his thigh brushing against her arm, and it was only then she realised what he was intending. His non-dominant hand moved to her jaw, guiding her head towards him and he parted her lips with his thumb, gray eyes locked onto her mouth as he gently lifted his hips so he could brush the head of his cock across her mouth, painting her lips with the thin layer of precum that had collected on its tip.
"That's it. Good girl."
The praise sent a pulse of desire ripping through her, radiating across her skin to settle in the heat between her thighs. Her hand slipped into Theo's shaggy brown hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp as a low whinge slipped from her mouth.
She needed more. More praise, more pressure, more everything.
Opening her mouth wide, she craned forward, laving her tongue across Draco's cock, trying her best to accept as much as him as she could. Her mind grew foggy, consciousness lost in the haze of desire as her eyes fluttered closed.
Draco set a slow pace, rocking gently into her mouth with a hand on top of her head, petting gently against her curls as a slurry of praise slipped from his lips. Giving her exactly what she needed to finally find realise.
Pleasure obligated her with its violent waves, Her thighs locked around Theo's head, her mouth leaving Draco's cock as her moans tore from her throat, filling the living room as she arched off the couch. Her body felt like it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, with Draco and Theo being the key that could piece her back together.
Lost in the transcendent bliss, she didn't register being lifted off the couch until she felt the brush of something hard and hot against her quivering slit. Cracking her eyes open, she looked down to watch as Theo rolled a condom down Draco's thick length and stroking him with an erotic finesse that made her stomach twist in anticipation despite having just come.
"You ready, love?" Theo glanced up, his fingers still wrapped around Draco, stroking his length against her slick. "You want him to stuff your pretty little cunt?"
"Yes. God, yes."
Theo's dark laughter sent a chill down her spine and his eyes flickered over her shoulder to look at Draco and he lifted his brows. "You heard the woman, Draco...better give her what she wants."
She felt hands on her waist, lifting her up until he could slot against her entrance and once aligned, he pushed down on her hips until she sunk down, his cock settling deep inside her. Her moan caught in her throat, eyes fluttering shut as the slow stretch of his cock filled her until she was sure she could feel in him her stomach.
The air in the room felt languid, hot and charged as Draco set their pace. Slow, and deep, he drove his hips up off the couch in time with each fall of her hips. Reaching out she grabbed ahold of Theo's shoulders, nails leaving red trails across his pale skin as she used him for support.
The sweet sound of their bodies joining echoed around the room, and soon a thin layer of sweat coated her skin, causing the strands of chestnut curls to stuck to her skin. Each fall of her hips brought forth a new bloom of pleasure, Draco's cock bottoming out, hitting against places inside her she was only vaguely aware existed.
Theo used the angle to his advantage, lavishing her breasts with attention as his hands alternated between stroking Draco's thighs and massaging his balls. Her pussy felt swollen, and eager as that primal need to find release filled her once again,
Her thighs quivered, and she could feel her cunt fluttered around Draco's cock she edged closer and closer towards her inevitable demise. Draco's hands ran the length of her spine, fingers pressing causing the taut muscles in her back before he curled them around her shoulders to help pull her down harder—quicker on his cock until her moans turned breathless with need.
"You take his cock so well," Theo mouthed against her skin, dark eyes running over her body, watching where Draco's cock spread her cunt. "So fucking hot—riding Draco's cock. Such a good little slut for us. Aren't you?"
Her moans grew louder, his words only adding to the build of her climax. She nodded feebly, her hand moving from Theo's shoulder to push through her sweat stricken curls, holding them from her flushed face as she slumped back against Draco's chest, unable to do anything beyond accept the pleasure they gave to her body.
Theo's hand moved between her thighs, and he pressed his index and middle finger against her clit, letting the bud fall between the valley his fingers created before he began to swirl, and drag his fingers back and forth across her pleasure centre.
"Come for us, Hermione...I know you can. Come all over Draco's cock, love. Show him how much you like him fucking you."
White hot colour exploded behind her eyelids, and suddenly the universe split in two. Up felt like down, left felt like right and everything she thought she knew about the world felt fallible and wrong. Nothing mattered anymore except the consuming climax that rippled through her body.
Draco held her, his arms tight around her waist, keeping her hips firmly planted against his as he fucked her through the undulating waves of oblivion until her tight pressure from her cunt milked his own orgasm from him.
She lay slumped on his chest for what felt like hours, his heartbeat tattooing a wild rhythm against her back. Distantly, she felt lips on her body, caressing the length of her arms, and shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her skin reverently.
Lifting her head from Draco's shoulder, half-lidden eyes cracking when she felt a new set of arms wrap around her waist and guide her off Draco's lap, his spent cock slipping from her body.
Theo settled onto the couch beside Draco, holding her bridal style in his lap, the hard prob of his cock nudging her lower back and he pressed sweet kisses along her brow and down the bridge of her nose. It was too much—the gentle aftercare after a frantic coupling. Her mind swirled as she tried to make sense of what had just transpired. "I... uh…I should—I can go…if you two—"
"Go?" Draco lifted his head, his brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Uh…I..um, because I mean, we…" She struggled to find the words, amber eyes flickering between Theo and Draco nervously. "…in case you wanted to—I don't know…talk or…I mean we're done…and I don't want to impose—"
Theo was the first to laugh, the soft rumble vibrating into her check. "I knew she was cute, but fuck, Draco, she might be too much." He teased, glancing over to the disheveled blond beside them.
It was Hermione's turn to wear a mask of confusion, lifting a brow at Theo curiously. "What?"
Theo's attention turned back to her, his lips lifting in a slow mischievous grin, "Well, it's just adorable—you think that we're already done with you…" His voice trailed off and he lifted his hand, stroking the back of his knuckles across the high of her cheek. "Because darling, we're just getting started."