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If You Can\'t Shag Your Friends...	By : BirdofFire Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 22204 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I am responsible for all that you have read and enjoyed in... Oh, wait, wrong disclaimer. Ahem. All rights for the creation of the Harry Potter series are property of JK Rowling. I do not make any profit from them or this work of fiction.

Chapter List
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- 2
- 3
... Who Can You Shag?

Part II

Five Minutes Later…

What had she been thinking?

What had she been thinking?

This was, without question, the worst idea she had come up with in her twenty-five years of existence on this planet. Sleeping with Fred and George? Fred and George: the infamous Weasley twins, legendary pranksters and jokers extraordinaire. Two of her closest friends. Men she couldn’t just dismiss the following day with the knowledge that she’d never have to see them again unless she wanted to.

And never mind all that. If she stayed… if she let them touch her… they’d see. They’d see everything and her life as she knew it would be over.

Making a snap decision, Hermione tried to rise from the coffee-coloured silk duvet, only to have brawny arms tighten around her.

   “Relax, Hermione,” George’s deep tones vibrated down her stiff spine, sending shivers through her. “We’re not exactly here to kill you,” He ended on a laugh but his words did nothing for the brunette, who was perched on the edge of the large four-poster bed, stiff as a board.

Having allowed Fred and George to draw her up the spiral staircase and into the latter’s huge bedroom, the reality of what they were about to do had finally hit her. She, Hermione Granger, was about to engage in carnal relations with the Weasley twins. How on earth had she ever thought that this was a good idea? The merlot must have affected her more than she’d originally thought.

Just then, Fred returned to the room, having taken off his suit jacket. As he rolled up his sleeves, his green shirt stretched across broad shoulders and a washboard stomach. A small smirk played across his full-lipped mouth, his blue eyes dancing in merriment.

   “Far from it,” Fred took up George’s statement, eyeing Hermione in a knowing way that rushed a flood of heat to her cheeks. “Actually,” his eyes flicker to his silent twin seated behind her. “Maybe if we do it right…” Here the two men chuckled in a carnal manner that Hermione considered shameless. But that didn’t prevent another sliver of excitement from edging its way to the front of her conscience.

Swallowing hard, Hermione watched Fred carefully as he prowled his way across the cream knotted rug, the sly look in his eye making her feel like stalked prey. The smirking man sat down before her, his weight bringing her slightly forward.

   “So,” he drawled, blue eyes flickering over Hermione’s flushed face. “You can’t come with a partner.” Hermione swallowed.

   “No,” her voice was almost a whisper.

   “Well, we’re going to fix that,” George’s confident words drew her attention back to him, even as Fred shifted her so she was facing the far wall, the twins now on either side of her. Hermione clenched her shaking hands.

   “How?” God, that was almost a whimper. So on edge was she that she failed to register the twins exchange glances that would have set her face alight.

   “Just let us show off, hmm?” Warm fingers tracing the nape of her exposed neck accompanied the hint of laughter in George’s voice. She turned to see white teeth flash in a wide grin, her stomach turning over like a puppy wanting its belly rubbed.

   “Breathe, then,” Fred was gentle, comforting, his large hand stroking its way up her spine, flooding heat through her system. Hermione did her best to obey, her breath hitching as a result. Two husky chuckles resounded in the cream-walled room and helpless giggles burbled up from her throat. She was being silly. It was just Fred and George; she would trust them with her life. Surely, trusting them with her body was a lot easier?

   “Now close your eyes,” George suggested, stroking her eyelids as she did so, a smile in his voice. “It’ll make it easier.” There was a slight pause as she felt the twins shift slightly beside her, moving closer. Heat radiated from their bodies putting her even more at ease. She was safe with them; she knew that. She’d always known that. That’s why she’d asked them to do this and no one else.

   “Hard and fast or slow and sweet?” George asked, huskily, his hands moving from her eyelids to caress the silky skin just under her jaw. Heart thudding at the question’s connotations, Hermione swallowed.

   “Slow and sweet,” she replied, hesitantly, going with what she thought to be the lesser evil. She’d never achieved orgasm through the rampant and unskilled rogering her exes had favoured, so perhaps slowing things down a little would bear some fruit.

A moment, then large hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs softly stroking the skin there, before full lips brushed across her own. Warmth flooded through her system and she let out a helpless moan as the searching lips nipped at her own, teasing, tasting. Shivering involuntarily, Hermione gasped as a tongue swept across her trembling, oversensitive mouth, pleading entry. Immediately granting it, she was rewarded by the stroke of the roof of her mouth, shuddering at the sparks that travelled down to her nipples, hardening them instantly.

The relentless, teasing plunder of her mouth had sent her senses spiralling so she didn’t notice when one of the twins moved behind her. She was only alerted to it when another pair of warm lips nipped at her neck. Hermione straightened with a gasp that opened up her mouth even more for the twin before her. He took immediate advantage of that, drawing her tongue into his mouth and stroking it with his own, intensifying the ache building right at the pit of her stomach.

Large, skilled hands trailed down her arms, raising goose-pimples as they went. The twin behind her shuffled forward, pressing his hard warm body into her back. Shuddering, gasping, Hermione’s head swam as her sheath dress was unzipped and pushed down. All Fred and George had done so far was kiss and pet her over her clothes. How was she going to survive what was to come next?

Rough thumbs stroked up her sides, searing their way into her skin, as her throbbing mouth was suddenly released and captured by another. These lips were gentler, caressing their way across hers, savouring. They soothed but incited at the same time, tongue stroking along her own. Moaning, desperately, seeking comfort, Hermione blindly reached forward, her hands coming down on a pair of broad shoulders. The heat of the velvety skin of the man before her burned through her hands and she heard a rough groan tear from his throat. A shudder ripped through her at the husky chuckle that rumbled in the damp chest against her back.

Her nipples throbbed, aching for contact, and Hermione whimpered at the mild caress the cold breeze from the open window provided. She needed something more. Almost as if able to hear her, fingers brushed the under-swell of her breasts. Gasping and arching in reaction, Hermione’s head fell back onto the shoulder of the man behind her. Strokes closer and closer to the burning points of her breasts. A moist tongue trailing across her shoulder blade. She was panting, now, shaking.

   “Please,” Hermione gave in, desperation threaded through her voice. She felt the twin behind her exhale, his lips dusting a trail down her arched spine.

   “Open your eyes, Hermione,” the twin before her – George- commanded, gently. Her lashes lifted slowly, blinking several times at the influx of light, low thought it was. A shirtless, muscled George sat on the floor before her, irises a thin ring of ice-blue, mouth a thin line. A light sheen of sweat covered his abdominals, reflecting the light from the wall sconces. His hands rested painfully close to her tight nipples.

   “Your nipples are like strawberries,” George murmured, eyes now devouring the quivering pink-tipped full breasts before him. “We’ve always loved strawberries.”

   “Especially when they’re as ripe and sweet as yours,” Fred was occupied with dropping heated kisses across her shoulders.

   “Have you ever played with these before?” George took up, his gaze still on her nipples, so intense they throbbed even harder in reaction. Shuddering once more at the icy heat of his steady gaze, Hermione wetted her dry lips, George’s eyes flickering up to eye them just as hungrily. Fred’s warm hands wandered to the base of her spine, pressing lightly at its sensitive centre.

   “Not really,” the gasped answer escaped Hermione who was still reeling from Fred’s experienced touch. So, she wasn’t prepared for the sudden quick pinch George inflicted on her throbbing nipples. Issuing a bone-shuddering groan, Hermione melted against the twin behind her whose rough hands were now stroking along her thighs.

   “Pity,” George drawled, his tapered fingers pinching and rolling the aching points of her breasts, sending jolts to her pulsing clit.

   “So responsive,” Fred teased, his warm breath washing over her ear. Hermione jumped as his teeth nipped her earlobe. His hands slid in between her thighs, coaxing them open for George to slide closer to Hermione. A sharp keen pierced the air when George’s hot mouth clasped onto her nipple, his fingers teasing and toying with the other. As he alternated between the two, suckling on each, tongue seeking out every crevice of the creased skin of her nipples, Hermione writhed in Fred’s arms. Not knowing whether to lean in or try to get away, the wet heat of his mouth was so intense it was almost painful.

Tightening his lips and increasing the suction on her abused nipple, George drew back, pulling it with him. Whimpering, voice hoarse, she followed him as he eyed her, mischievously. With a sudden pop, the former Gryffindor released it, leaving Hermione gasping and trembling, nipples moist and almost painfully sore. George’s wet lips stretched into a devious grin.

“You okay?” Hermione just stared back at him, chest heaving. His eyes fell to her moving breasts, darkening to indigo. “Good,” he continued. Without another word, George bounced up onto the soles of his feet with athletic grace. At the same time, and before Hermione could even register it, the weight behind her lifted and Fred slid off the bed, he and his twin changing places.

   “What are you two up to, now?” Hermione was breathless, but better than a few moments ago and was grateful for the time their quick changeover had given her to regain some of her long lost composure. Fred kneeled between her still-parted knees, an irrepressibly wily smirk and the shadowy room casting a seductive darkness over his chiselled features.

   “I’ve always preferred showing rather than telling,” he replied, a glint entering his eye. Before her muddled brain can think of a clever answer, his work-roughened palms stroked up her inner thighs, parting them even further. She arched, murmuring a complaint when he skipped over where she ached most, going instead to the edge of her dampened knickers.

   “Patience, Hermione,” Fred smirked, stroking his fingers just above her knickers. “Isn’t it one of those virtues you love so much?” Behind her, George barked a short laugh as tingling warmth spread through her abdomen.

   “Git,” Hermione murmured, weakly kicking out in his direction. The only indication that either twin had heard her was a flash of Fred’s white teeth and George’s nip on her shoulder for her cheekiness. The latter lifted her slightly and Fred drew the knickers down her thighs and off. By now, though, her skin was so over sensitised that even the barest touch of fabric fanned the flames. Another moan left her lips as the cold air played over her clit, providing only the lightest contact where she needed much more.

Once more, rough palms skimmed up her thighs, this time coming to a rest right on the uppermost part beside her heated centre.

   “You have a beauty spot right here, did you know?” Fred’s question was rhetorical, punctuated by a brief, hot kiss just beside her outer lips. Arching helplessly, Hermione moaned as she grew even hotter, even wetter. George’s fingers ventured from her waist where they had been comfortingly still, up to her still tight nipples, thrumming them gently.

   “Your pussy is so pretty,” Fred purred, lasciviously, his thumbs now stroking her pouting outer lips. She didn’t need to look down to know where Fred’s eyes were: she could feel almost feel the heat of his gaze on her sore clit. George says something in husky tones but Hermione is so intoxicated with pleasure that she doesn’t catch the question.

   “Do you play with your clit, sweetheart?” George repeats, tracing the inner whorls of her ear with his tongue. A shuddering breath leaves her at the pleasure that accompanies the moist heat. Nodding, helplessly, she twists in their arms, consumed with desire.

   “What, like this?” Fred’s sly tone should have alerted Hermione to what he was up to, but she was beyond thinking at this point. When long tapered fingers swept teasingly over her clit, her eyes shot open, mouth following suit in a silent scream. George continued tormenting her nipples, pinching and rolling them almost cruelly.

   “Is this what you do, love?” She could barely hear Fred over the rushing of blood in her ears, barely feel anything other than the throbbing in her nipples and the circling of Fred’s fingers on her clit. She would swear that she could almost feel every ridge on the pads of his fingers, their roughness adding friction and heat to her already burning centre.

   “Oh, God… oh, please…” Hermione whimpered, panting and writhing under the twins’ talented hands. This was what she had been missing out on, she thought, mindlessly. The circling, rubbing pressure on her clit was unbearable. Her nipples burned under George’s torturing fingertips.

   “We’ll get you there, sweetheart,” George comforted, his mouth sweeping across her damp, overheated neck. “Promise.” Hermione whined in protest, surprising even herself. She had become one of those women – and, shockingly, she didn’t even care. Below her waist, Fred breathed warmth over her aching centre and Hermione’s breath hitched.

   “Easy,” He murmured before leaning in and tracing his tongue right over her pulsing nub. Mindless now, Hermione keened, arching back into George who released a rumbling groan.

   “Oh, please.” She begged, a lump of frustration coming to her throat. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. Please.” She ended on a sob, sinking her nails into the velvety skin of George’s thighs, past caring about possibly hurting him. But George only shuddered in response, tugging on her nipples in reciprocation. Every caress of Fred’s tongue, every suckling pull on her clit served to push her closer and closer to the edge. She could almost feel Fred’s taste-buds, so thoroughly was he bathing her pussy in wet heat.

   “So ripe, so sweet,” Fred groaned at her succulent taste, bringing up a hand to circle her entrance. Almost hiccupping now, Hermione’s senses were overloaded by the teasing promise of what was to come. She had never wanted like this, never needed like this. If she didn’t have one of them inside her soon, she was going to die; of that she was sure.

   “George,” she pleaded with the only one she knew would be willing to end her torment. Fred had a notoriously cruel streak and George was always the one to reel him back in if need be. George dropped a short, comforting kiss on her upturned, panting mouth.

   “It’s okay, love,” he murmured, thumbs rasping over her nipples as below Fred latched onto her clit and suckled hard. “We’ve got you.” He continued, uttering more words of comfort to the desperate, writhing woman between him and his twin. “Let go, sweetheart. We’ll take care of everything. Go on, come for us.”

Fred finally stroked two fingers inside her entrance and, with that, Hermione shattered into a million pieces. Her haunting cry echoed around the room as waves of the most intense pleasure she had ever felt overwhelmed her and sped her over the cliff…

………………

The lights were even lower when she came to, with only one sconce still being on. From either side, she could hear the reassuring sound of the twins breathing, confirming that they were still there. The silk sheets were warm under her, indicating that she’d been lying there a while. Blinking twice, she tried to wriggle her toes, but her bones still hadn’t reappeared from their mission to Orgasmville.

Hermione giggled at that. Orgasmville. Who could ever have guessed that she would have been able to find it with one partner, let alone two?

How’s that for frigid, Terry?

At the sound of her laughter, Fred and George, who had been talking quietly over her, turned immediately. Their faces were oddly cautious but, when they caught sight of her wide, happy grin, they smiled in relief.

   “Wow,” Hermione’s first words broke any remaining ice and the three descended into laughter. The former Gryffindor Princess glanced between them, eyes shining and her brown hair spread across the pillow, surrounding her head like a halo. After a moment, the twins calmed and gazed back at her, unreadable expressions on their faces.

   “So, that’s what it’s supposed to be like,” Hermione continued, dreamily, eyes turning to the ceiling above her. “I knew I was missing something.” Beside her, George stiffened.

   “Yeah, because those dickheads you were with couldn’t find their way around a sandbox without a map and directions,” Fred snarled in disgust, giving her a possessive look that she didn’t catch. Hermione laughed at the understatement. The twins had no idea of just how bad it really was. None of her boyfriends had agreed to go down on her, despite the fact that they expected her to give them head on demand. She had always been happy to do so until it became obvious that they had no intention of reciprocating the gesture; of doing anything that was technically only to pleasure her.

Calling her former boyfriends ‘selfish’ was like calling Voldemort ‘a mild nuisance’.

   “You have no idea,” she laughed, humourlessly. George brushed a hand, soothingly, over her cheek, seeking to bring her back from the morose place she’d ventured to.

   “Fuck them, how were we?” He asked, an unusual tone in his voice. Surprised that he needed any confirmation of their obvious skill, Hermione turned to her left to see a cheeky grin and dancing eyes. Raising and lowering his eyebrows suggestively, he covered her bare stomach with a large hand and tickled her, relentlessly. Helpless giggles burbling from her throat, Hermione writhed once more, this time in a different kind of pleasure.

   “Stop it, stop it!” She commanded between snorts. “You know you’re good, you… you plums!” George stopped his merciless assault, Fred leaning up on one elbow to watch as Hermione turned to them with teary eyes. She shoved both brothers, smiling widely.

   “Ugh, I hate you both,” She feigned annoyance but was grateful for the distraction. The twins just continued grinning, eyes reflecting the glowing light from the sconce on the wall beside the bed. For a moment, she allowed herself to revel in their presence, her breathing returning to normal.

   “So, what do you want to do, now?” Fred’s smile was gentle, his eyes even more so. “Any more wicked ideas, you minx?” Hermione would typically have rolled her eyes at the favoured nickname, but she was too busy contemplating his words. They were really willing to continue this? She doubted that she had shown much finesse, not having experienced anything like that with a partner that wasn’t battery operated, so, what could possibly be in this for them? And should she even bother questioning it or simply take them at their word and seize this probably once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

   “Well, there is this one thing…” Hermione trailed off, coming to a decision but unsure if they’d be up for what she was about to suggest. Such thoughts were perverse, she was sure. Even the twins who were notorious for edging toes over the line every now and again wouldn’t be up for putting both feet firmly over it. She’d best just shut up and stick with the traditional.

   “What?” George prompted her when she failed to continue. Hermione shook her head.

   “It doesn’t matter,” she dismissed, drawing the silk sheet further over herself in an attempt to hide as much of her body from view as possible. She tucked her flushed face into the goose down pillow, praying that the twins would just let it alone. Experience, however, told her that success was a pipe dream.

Lo and behold, a warm hand lifted her face to meet sincere eyes.

   “Tell us,” Fred said, firmly, his strong but gentle grasp preventing her from turning away. Glancing between the identical-looking men and seeing nothing to imply that they were going to laugh at her, Hermione gathered her courage, took a deep breath and –

   “Isn’t there a way for you both to…” she trailed off, nervous, but continued at the twins’ stern expressions. “To- to be inside me at once?” Her eyes slammed shut, screwing tightly closed in dismayed disbelief that she had actually just said that. After watching one of Pansy’s naughty videos in an attempt to bond with her, it had remained a secret desire of hers to try that move with two men. But to actually suggest it..?

Once again, what had she been thinking?

The bed shifted and, a moment later, hands gently parted her thighs once more. George rose up and kneeled between her legs, taking in her wide-eyed expression with a small smirk. The brush of Fred’s warm lips against her ear sent a shiver down her spine.

   “Well, why don’t we try it and find out?”

………………

Sighs and groans were the only sounds echoing around the room. Hermione threw her head back against Fred’s shoulder as George’s fingers entered and left her, sparks shooting through her body as they hit that spot. Fred’s groan rumbled through her spine as she fisted his thick, pulsing erection, sweat leaving trails down his broad chest. George panted into her ear, his warm breath making her shiver.

Hands teased and swept over her skilfully, bringing Hermione to a fever pitch. Her clit pulsed, throbbing painfully under George’s toying hand. Her tightened nipples brushed against his chest, the light blonde hairs on his golden skin providing exquisite friction.

   “Can we… please?” She panted between George’s thrusts, his fingers maintaining a frustratingly even pace, regardless of the pleas burbling from her dry throat. George’s sigh turned into a loud groan when Hermione twisted her hand, tugging forcefully on his swollen, purple cock.

   “Not yet, love,” Fred’s voice trembled, breath hitching. “Just a little more of this…”

Hermione didn’t think she could take much more of this but she didn’t have the strength left to say so…

………………

Her bones juddered as their rapid strokes hit her with enough force to rattle the teeth in her head. A blinding light was growing in intensity behind her closed eyelids, pleasure rushing through every vein in her body. Large hands kneaded her breasts, roughly, the twins’ breathing heavily as they plunged in and out of her.

Fred groaned as Hermione’s juices flooded heat all over his swollen balls, her hair sticking to his sweaty shoulders. George gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise, head tilted back as he slammed into her arse with careful force. Hermione panted moans as rough fingers tweaked her aching nub and played across the aching points of her bouncing breasts.

God, she was so close. So… painfully… close.

   “Fred… George,” she husked through a throat made sore from screaming. Their thrusts were erratic now, losing their earlier rhythm.

    “Come,” and with that command and Fred’s quick pinch of her clit, she arched her back, issued a silent scream – and imploded.
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If You Can\'t Shag Your Friends...