'Watching', Harry/Ron/Hermione, NC-17

Author: calliope14
Title: Watching
Summary: Hermione loves to watch her boys.
Word Count: 1901
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Well, someone had to be the first to post a fic here. ;)

I started out writing this for the "Three Kinks" challenge on pornish_pixies, but decided not to post it there because it's heavy on the het (which bothers me not in the slightest, you understand, as I love het and slash equally). Thanks to lissannej for betaing. Crossposted in my journal.


The kinks? Voyeurism, threesome, masturbation, and zelophilia, which is sexual arousal from jealousy. Yes it is a real thing and don't ask me where I found that word. *dead*


******


Hermione loves to watch her boys, especially when they think she isn't looking.

Hermione loves to watch them when they think she's asleep, the two of them trying to be oh-so-quiet in the big four poster bed they all share. Sometimes she's asleep, sometimes she's awake, but the careless fumblings on their side of the bed always catch her attention. When she dares open her eyes just the tiniest bit, hoping they're too wrapped up in each other to notice her, she watches them kiss. She knows how Ron's lips are always just a little bit chapped and how Harry always feels a bit scruffy faced even if he's just shaved five minutes before, and she tries to imagine what both of them feel like to each other. Even though there's no way she could sleep when Harry's making that soft moaning sound he always makes as Ron trails kisses down his stomach to his cock, sucking with that gentle but inisistent rhythm he uses to drive both of them mad, she pretends anyway. She tries very hard to regulate her breathing into a pattern approximating sleep, resisting the urge to reach down and touch herself when Harry whispers, "Merlin, Ron... fuck..." and it's all she can do not to press her face into the pillow because that's the only thing she can think of to keep herself quiet. Harry bites down on his hand to muffle the strangled noise from his throat when he comes, thrusting into Ron's mouth, and Hermione forgets about pretending to be asleep and slides her hand into her knickers, knowing what it feels like to have Harry come for her like that at the same time she knows what it's like to have Ron's mouth driving her over the edge.

Hermione loves to watch them in the shower. She loves how the water seems to melt them together until they're no longer Harry and Ron but HarryandRon, and through the foggy glass of the shower door she can't tell where one of them stops and the other starts, even though Ron is a good head taller than Harry as he always was. A witch as smart as she could cast an Impervious Charm on the glass for a better view, but she likes seeing them this way, all misty and blurry and in their own little world. She watches Harry wash Ron's back, his hand making lazy, soapy circles over Ron's skin. Ron leans forward, bracing his arms on the wall when Harry drops the washcloth and reaches around to stroke him, and Hermione leans back against the sink, her fingers furiously working her clit. Harry's leaning into Ron, talking low, and she can't quite catch what he's saying over the steamy hiss of the shower until she hears her name. Harry's talking about her while he's stroking Ron's cock, and all of a sudden she's glad for the mist on the shower door when she slides weak-kneed and shaking to the floor.

Hermione loves to Apparate home a bit early when she can, but never directly into the house. She shows up just at the back door, letting herself in as quietly as possible in the hopes that the two of them will be too busy to notice her arrival. It's not often that she's able to watch them this way, but one time she finds them in their study in the big leather chair behind the desk. Harry's straddling Ron, their bare chests pressed together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle. Ron's hands move up and down Harry's back almost possessively, dipping lower and lower each time, and Harry responds by grinding his hips harder against Ron's. She can't tell which of them is moaning louder because their voices are muffled by each other's lips, kissing each other like they would rather be doing that than anything else in the entire world. Harry pushes up off Ron's lap and settles right back down, slowly, and Ron lets a stream of muffled swearing because Harry's settling down right on top of his cock. Hermione can't decide what to watch; she wants to watch their faces because she loves the way they look when they're in the middle of this, but she's never quite watched them from this angle either. She's never actually seen Harry opening up for Ron like this, never realised just how Ron seems to fill and complete Harry in a way that she can't, and for the first time in all the months they've been together, the first time in all the months she's been watching them, she's burning with more than arousal.

Hermione is jealous.

The jealousy hits her like a shot of Firewhiskey, flooding through her body and blotting out everything but the two boys - her boys - in front of her. She forgets all about being quiet and making sure they don't know she's watching, because Harry's moving more quickly now and Ron's stroking him in just the right rhythm and they're going to come without her yet again and she doesn't want that. She wants them to wait for her, to let her in between them, to have their hands on her body and their mouths on her skin, but she doesn't know how to tell them so all that comes out of her mouth is a frantic sort of gasp. Harry and Ron both turn to look at her in unison, which only makes her more jealous and angry because they're obviously reading each other's minds now, so she turns to go, to leave and let them get back to it without her. There's some fumbling, a mumbled Colloportus, and she finds the door shut fast, but before she can find her wand to unlock it they're right there, holding her between them and not letting go.

Hermione doesn't like this. She doesn't like being outsmarted, she doesn't like being trapped and they ought to know that, they ought to pay attention and know these things about her. They ought to know this, just like they know how to touch her the way they're touching her right now. They have her clothes off before she knows it, and a moment later she's almost glad that Ron's holding her so tightly because Harry's tongue is flicking at her clit and she doesn't think she can stand up anymore without leaning back into Ron's chest. Ron's fingers are toying with her nipples, his breath is hot on her neck and shoulder, and Harry's hands are sliding up her thighs to join his tongue in teasing her to dizziness. One of Ron's hands slides lower, just between her body and Harry's mouth, and she whimpers in frustration. She doesn't want anything in the way of what Harry's doing, but then she feels him separating her, holding her open to Harry's tongue and lips and fingers and then she feels like she's falling, falling, falling, and the only thing keeping her from getting lost is their hands on her.

If Ron weren't holding her she'd have fallen to the floor after that, but of course they don't let her fall. They never do. Ron gently shifts her boneless weight to Harry, who pulls her to the floor on top of him. Hermione wants to cry when her hypersensitive nerves brush against Harry's still-hard cock, but she doesn't because she feels Ron's hands at her waist and his lips on her back, tracing a path of kisses down her spine. She arches into Ron's touch, and Harry pushes up into her, which hurts a little, so soon after coming like that but she doesn't care because Ron's now using his tongue like Harry was earlier but in a different area entirely and she doesn't think that should even be allowed to feel that good, but it does.

Harry cups her face in his hands, kissing her, then tilts her head to whisper in her ear. "We know you've been watching us, Hermione."

She shakes her head and starts to reply, to deny it, but all she can do is moan because Ron's using a finger now, working it slowly in and out and around. It's a completely different feeling than she's used to and she doesn't know what to concentrate on inside of her - Harry's cock or Ron's finger, but Harry's voice snaps her back into focus.

"Oh, yes you have," he says, his voice soft, but hoarse. "Don't you think we can see you when you're peeking, pretending to be asleep?"

"I don't," Hermione whispers.

"You do," says Ron. "You do, and we wanted you to see us. How many times have you seen us do this, Hermione?" He adds another finger to the first, leaning over her and half-covering her with his body, his breath ghosting along her skin.

"That shower door works both ways, you know," Harry says. "We could see you just as well as you could see us."

Ron presses deeper, stretching her. "Leaning up against the sink with your dressing gown open...."

"... and touching yourself, like this," Harry adds, sliding his hand between their bodies and gently rubbing her clit, just enough to send a shudder through her whole body.

Hermione can't breathe. They've never talked to her like this before, never touched her quite like this and she almost thinks she's dreaming all this except for the fact that every single touch sends more pleasure through her body than she ever thought possible. She feels something building in her, something much stronger and more intense than she's ever experienced before and she doesn't know if she can handle it.

Harry must see this on her face because he kisses her again and whispers in her ear, "We've got you, Hermione. Just let go...." and then Ron's fingers are gone and he's pushing his cock into her with excruciating slowness. He's going so slowly, she knows he doesn't want to hurt her and it's both far too slow and far too fast at the same time, because she has them both, both boys right where she wants them, hers and no one else's. They might tear her apart, the two of them, just the way they might tear her heart in two one day because there's no way the three of them can stay like this forever even though they're too much a part of each other to ever really let go. Now is not the time to think of that, though, not when they're making her feel like this - inside her, against her, and all around her, as much a part of her as she is of herself. Harry brushes his fingers against her again and everything explodes, and she doesn't think her heart can even keep beating with the force of it all.

She thinks it does stop for just a minute when they all collapse on the rug in a tangle of arms and legs and hands that aren't sure where to go, but she takes a deep breath and realises that she's still very much alive and very much awake. Ron wraps his arms around her from behind, holding her against his chest like he's afraid she will break. Harry kisses her and strokes her hair and she thinks that as long as she has them to watch and love and just be hers, she'll be okay.