Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Wands and Wheezes	By : auntlynnie Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 40170 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Anti-Litigation Charm: Sadly, I don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. Nor do I own any canon characters, locations, or situations. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
NOTE: Ron and Hermione survived their breakup as friends, but their relationship was far from perfect. That sort of situation inevitably leaves traces of psychological detritus behind. It's not because Ron's a bad guy. He was just young and immature, and perhaps unprepared for a serious relationship. Remember that it has been several years since they broke up, and now they are close friends again. This is *not* a Ron-bashing story. I actually like Ron, even if I don't really ship R/Hr.
Chapter 6 � Going with the Flow
Hermione squeaked in shock when George kissed her. His hands were on her hips, rubbing slow, sensual circles. Her surprise was quickly replaced with eagerness, and when she felt his tongue prodding the seam of her lips, she opened her mouth to him. His tongue caressed hers, gentle, loving, teasing.
Hermione decided that she was done with teasing; she wound her hands around his neck as she briefly massaged the roof of George's mouth with her tongue, eliciting a moan from him.
In her somewhat limited experience, passionate kisses had always felt like a battle of tongues - a duel to be won or lost. George's kisses were more like a dance - a tango - sensual and intoxicating... to be savoured and relished. Instead of feeling like a competition, she felt that they were instead both striving to the same goal - giving and taking pleasure from the other. It was a heady experience, and she wanted to treasure it in her heart.
They broke the kiss, George nipping at her full lower lip. They stayed in their embrace, though, George resting his forehead on Hermione's, looking intently into her eyes. Panting, she said softly, "Wow."
George chuckled huskily. "Yeah. Wow." He worked his hand around from the small of her back to the front of her hip, stroking her tattoo, watching the phoenix dance under his touch.
"George, I... I haven't... not since Ron..."
George worked to control his reaction, looking into her eyes. "Nothing?"
Hermione huffed, embarrassed, but not breaking the intimate embrace. "Well, seeing as how I spend a majority of my social time with you and Fred, and your family, I would think you would have already guessed."
"Well, I didn't, but mostly because I never wanted to think of you with another bloke," he said, one hand resting on the back of her neck, the other still on her tattoo. "I guess we have some lost time to make up for, then, eh?"
"George!" she said, laughing, lightly slapping his arm.
George grimaced. "Slower, then?"
"No... I guess I'm not saying that..." she said, blushing furiously. "I'm saying... I'm saying that I've waited a long time to get over Ron. I'm saying that I am, unequivocally, over him. I know I'm over him because..." Hermione paused, trying to summon the courage to finish her bold statement.
George had already stated his interest and hopes for more, hadn't he? That should earn him the benefit of her directness, shouldn't it? Even if it made her uncomfortable, she felt she owed him her honesty. She decided it was time to seize the moment.
"Because..." George said, leading her to finish her thought.
"Because I know how very much I want this with you."
With her whispered confession, George's left hand slid from the tattoo on her hip around to splay on the small of her back, pulling her even closer into his embrace. He was kissing her again, and their state of dishabille finally registered in Hermione's brain. He was nipping at her lips, then laving the bites with his talented tongue. Then, he snaked his right hand into her already half-open blouse and palmed her breast over her lacy bra, and she gasped, a thrill running through her, the rough rub of the lace more stimulating than she had expected.
"Oh, God, yes!"
George gave a smirk worthy of a Slytherin and began unbuttoning her blouse, kissing and licking every inch of newly exposed flesh.
As George worked toward removing her shirt, Hermione ran her hands over his muscled chest and shoulders, delighting in his masculine form. Feeling mischievous, she ran her fingernails over his nipples, drawing a hiss from George and a sly smirk of her own.
"Feeling playful, are we, witch?"
To this, she smiled, bit her lower lip, and nodded, looking up at him through the fringe of her eyelashes. In answer, he grasped the two sides of her shirt and ripped it open, the last few buttons skittering all over the kitchen. Hermione gasped, and George simply leered at her, said, "Two can play at that game!" and proceeded to remove her bra in one smooth motion. He sucked one dusky pink nipple into his mouth, earning a shriek of surprised but delighted laughter from Hermione when he lightly bit the tip.
"Ah... George... Is this really happening?" She gasped, still trying to catch her breath.
"Is what really happening?"
"Us..."
"Oh, yes, love. Finally. Not having doubts, are you?"
"Oh, God, no!"
For her part, Hermione was lost. She was lost to sensation, to the thrills George was inciting, to her passions, to her desire for him - and lost to his for her. Her past relationships had been plagued with bad timing - they were almost never on the same page. For what seemed like the first time in her life, she wasn't allowing fear of rejection to control her. She wasn't preoccupied with how to protect her heart from the man in her arms. She was just trusting him and learning how to 'go with the flow.'
At this moment, 'going with the flow' meant that she was finally successful at opening George's trousers. His focus had been on kissing her and worshiping her breasts, so when her hand snaked into his pants and gripped his hard, silken length, he gave a surprised gasp. She smiled at his reaction. She ran her hand from the base to the tip, passing her palm over the precome already gathering there, using it to lubricate her ministrations. His hips bucked into her hand in reaction. Knowing that she had brought him to this state bolstered her feminine pride, giving her the courage to continue.
She couldn't help but compare him with his brother, which felt a bit pervy. She excused herself with the thought that even if Ron and George weren't brothers, she would compare her new lover to her old one. She found herself intrigued - and quite pleased - at the differences between the two men. When she had dated Ron, he was still in his teens; while he was strong and tall, he still had a bit of soft baby fat around his middle, thanks to Molly's cooking. George, on the other hand, was all lean, masculine muscle - a man. And although Ron was certainly adequately endowed, George was making her mouth water, and she refocused her efforts on the incredible man before her, pushing all thoughts of Ron out of her mind.
As Hermione stroked him and they both kept rapt eyes on the action, George stilled and let out a soft whinge, resting his forehead on hers. George's breathing became increasingly ragged when he grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away and bringing his pants back up.
"You've got to stop, love, or we'll be finished before we start." With a chuckle and another searing, toe-curling kiss, Hermione held on to his shoulders for dear life. George quickly toed off his socks and shoes and stepped out of his open trousers, leaving them on the kitchen floor. Hermione's trousers were hanging open on her hips, so in one move, George ran his hands over her bum, pulling them down her legs and removing them, along with her socks and ballet flats, leaving them all in a pile on the floor next to his own clothes. When his hands swept up her legs again to return to her bum, he lifted her up, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He carried her down the short hallway to her bedroom, kissing her all the way, kneading her bum as they went. He kicked the bedroom door open, carrying Hermione to the bed and placed her on top of the blue duvet on the large four-poster bed of the master suite.
George took a moment to stand at the foot of the bed, looking at the woman before him. His heated perusal was a visual caress of her entire body, and Hermione shuddered in anticipation.
"So beautiful..."
Hermione lay on the bed, feeling the weight of George's gaze long enough to recognize that she was only clad in her tiny lace knickers. She had chosen them because when worn under her clothes, they made her feel feminine and sexy, but now that they were all she wore, she began to feel... exposed. Her hands travelled to cover the scars that crossed her abdomen.
"My scars... I know... they're ugly..." she started to say in apology.
Ron had always insisted that their intimate encounters be conducted in darkened rooms - in a moment of honesty, he'd admitted that he found her scars to be off-putting. She knew her scars were repulsive - she'd been living with them for years, and they were a large part of the reason she hadn't had many intimate relationships if she were to be honest with herself.
If Ron, whom she had known since she was eleven years old, who had loved her and who had fought by her side - who had been at her side when she had received her scars: the larger, thicker scar from Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries at the end of their fifth year, the thinner scar that snaked back and forth across her torso received as a result of Rodolphus LeStrange's skilled knifework at Malfoy Manor - if he couldn't face her scars, who could?
Her obvious bout of insecurity seemed to spur George from his momentary reverie. He shook his head vehemently, pinning her with a look.
"No. Your scars only prove who you are - a brave, loving, loyal woman who has risked her life more than once to protect her friends and to stand up for what's right. Don't ever be ashamed. Don't ever cover them for my sake. You are beautiful inside and out - and these scars are evidence of that fact. Not to mention that you are absolutely bloody gorgeous..."
Hermione smiled, her bravura returning, and reached out for him. "George, stop talking and get over here!"
George climbed onto the bed and crawled up her body, dropping kisses along the way. A kiss to her left ankle... one to her right knee... a long lick up her inner thigh... ending with a playful bite. George revelled in her breathy gasps and heady moans along the way. He took in a deep breath, smelling her arousal.
"Beautiful."
As he passed her hip, he decided to honour her tattoo - he licked it, watching the phoenix dance in concert with Hermione's own writhing movements. To see both the woman and her tattoo so responsive to him made his cock twitch. He continued his exploration of her body, kissing and licking and paying homage the scars that crisscrossed her torso. He arrived at her breasts and looked up at her face. She was watching him avidly, her lips parted as she panted.
He gave her a wicked grin, saying, "I always knew you'd have fabulous tits, Granger."
His crass words barely registered in the back of her mind, but before she could muster a reaction, he teased her left nipple with his talented tongue and engulfed it in the heat of his mouth. All thoughts of protest instantly fled her mind. George kissed his way across her chest and worried her right nipple, suckling the dusky peak, while cupping her left breast and tweaking the nipple playfully. His attentions shot straight to her core, and twin coils of need and want curled through her belly. She tried to grab at his hair to pull him up for a kiss, to try to take control, but he easily caught her questing hands, holding them down against the duvet.
"Oh, no, Ms. Granger. It's my turn to be playful now. You had your turn."
She huffed in a small fit of frustration while he gently restrained her wrists. He kissed her neck, licked her collarbones, and worshipped her breasts until she started fisting the duvet. Satisfied that she wouldn't try to retake control for the time being, George released her wrists. He ghosted his hands down her body, gently teasing her curves while kissing the flushed valley between her breasts, moving down to swirl his tongue around her navel. When Hermione looked down, she saw his head only a few inches away from her folds, his intent obvious.
"George, no!" She grabbed at his head, getting handfuls of hair.
George was bewildered. He looked up at her. "What's wrong?"
"No, don't do... that. It's... gross."
George shook his head. "It's not gross in the least, my dear, especially when it's done right. Haven't you...?"
Hermione was mortified, her face now red with embarrassment along with her arousal. "George..." she whined, hoping he would understand her plea and relent.
She should have known better. She wasn't dealing with an immature prat like Ron had been. She was dealing with a man who knew what he wanted and was mischievous enough to do it, as well as willing to slow down long enough to discuss it. He didn't expect it to take too long to convince her.
"Hermione, have you ever had oral sex?"
If possible, Hermione's blush intensified. "Well, of course. Sometimes we would wake up in the morning, and I would..." She trailed off, embarrassed to be talking to George about her sex life with his brother. She strove to keep any names out of the discussion.
"No, I mean, has anyone ever given you oral sex?"
"No! I mean, there was a half-hearted offer, but I was too uncomfortable, and the offer was never repeated."
"Well, that is something that will have to be remedied. It's something I rather enjoy doing, and I've been told I have a bit of a talent for it. It's a matter of pride, you see." His grin was positively impish. "Please trust me?"
Her hesitation proved that she was convincible, but he could see how uncomfortable she was with the whole idea. George knew that with this witch, success would lie in well-argued logic.
"Look at it this way. Was it so awful to perform oral sex?""Well, no. It's actually quite arousing."
"Right. It's the same for me."
"Really?" she asked, her tone uncertain.
"Really. Will you let me show you? Please?"
Hermione laughed, muttering, "I'm probably the only witch who has ever had to be convinced to let her lover do this." Then, she said louder, "But now it seems terribly awkward. I've interrupted the... flow."
"Oh, don't worry about the flow, love. I'll take care of that." With a chuckle, George returned to lavishing her breasts with open-mouthed kisses, swirling his tongue around each nipple in turn. He resumed his path down her body, his pace torturously slow. He kissed a trail down her belly, caressing her sides and her hips. Finally, he parted her folds with one hand and took a long lick from slit to clit, groaning at his first taste of her nectar. With this one move, he successfully exorcised all thoughts of Ron along with any lingering doubts.
He swirled his tongue around her clit, mimicking the treatment he'd just bestowed on her breasts, but teasingly -not giving quite enough friction or pressure to ease her desire. He slid one finger into her hot, wet channel, pumping gently, and almost came in his pants when he heard her whimpers for more. He added a second finger and twisted his hand around, finding and rubbing the spongy spot on the front wall of her vagina while sucking hard on her clit. Her reaction was swift as her body bowed with pleasure. George smiled and intensified his ministrations, suckling and rubbing, waiting for the sign of her impending orgasm. It didn't take long before she came, her inner walls clamping down on his fingers and the gush of fluid rushing out with a hoarse shout from his lover. He removed his fingers from her core and lapped at her opening with concupiscence.
When Hermione finally stopped shuddering, George crawled back up her body. With a smug smile, he asked "So, was that nasty, love?"
Hermione chuckled, in good humour from her first mind-blowing orgasm at the hand of another in years. "No. It was... amazing. Thank you." Without thinking, she pulled him down for a kiss, stroking his tongue with hers. She tasted herself for the first time on his tongue, surprised that her essence wasn't disgusting, but rather tangy and not at all unpleasant.
George settled between her legs, resting the weight of his upper body on his elbows on either side of her, and Hermione was able to feel his arousal. "George... you are wearing far too much clothing."
George gave her a crooked grin. "Mmm... there's that bossy tone." When he lifted himself off of Hermione in order to remove his boxers, she surprised him by placing her feet on his hips, hooking her big toes into the waistband of his boxers and dragging them down his legs for him. He kicked off the offending garment with a chuckle. "That's an impressive trick, Ms. Granger. Way to take charge."
Hermione just smiled and pulled on his shoulders, drawing his chest against hers. The feel of his sprinkling of chest hairs against her breasts was thrilling, and his skin against hers was incredible. He had quite an amazing physique, built from years of Quidditch and still honed by frequent pickup games at the Burrow. And at this moment, Hermione was clutching at him in a desperate embrace, wanting to feel filled like she hadn't in so very long. She rolled her hips and rubbed her feet along the backs of his legs. This seemed to be all the encouragement George needed.
He rose up on his elbows again and then reached down between them to position himself at her aching core, rubbing the sensitive tip along her slit. Both of them gasped at the sensation, and he looked up to her face, silently seeking permission. Her eyes were lust-darkened, her lips were parted, and she was panting in a desperate attempt to control herself. She nodded ever so slightly. "Please, George." George lined up his cock and thrust, filling her completely. Both Hermione and George cried out in pleasure and happiness.
"So... tight. So... wet," George panted, trying to control himself and keep from coming too quickly. He wanted this to last.
"So good..." Hermione couldn't remember ever feeling this filled... or this fulfilled.
After taking a moment to allow Hermione to adjust, George started thrusting slowly. Hermione could swear she felt every ridge and vein of his manhood as he penetrated her again and again.
George started to sweat from the effort it took to restrain himself, but when Hermione raised her legs to encircle his waist, he couldn't help but increase the speed of his thrusts. He slid his hands under her, wrapping them up and over her shoulders to help hold her in place, keeping his chest almost in constant contact with hers; the position was incredibly intimate. He was now driving into her with abandon, her hips rising to meet his.
When George sped up his pace, Hermione was undone. She clawed at his shoulders, sure that she was gouging at his flesh. She sucked at his neck and bit his earlobe, and then she reached down, her nails digging into the tight, flexing muscles of his arse, pulling him ever deeper as he pistoned into her body.
"Oh, fuck!" was all George could say when he felt Hermione's inner walls begin to flutter around him. He desperately wanted them to come together, and they were both so very close. He could feel his balls drawing up, signalling his impending orgasm. He reached down and vigorously rubbed her clit once... twice... and with the third stroke, he felt her clamp down on him as she cried out with her orgasm. With only two more thrusts, he came with a shout.
George dropped his weight on her, and she welcomed it, holding his shuddering body to hers, cherishing the intimacy of the embrace. He peppered her face with kisses wherever he could reach, and she lovingly caressed his back.
After a few minutes of giving and receiving affectionate caresses, George rolled them to their sides, sliding out of her with a soft groan. He stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles, pushing back the hair that had stuck to the sweat-dampened skin of her face. They smiled at each other.
"No regrets, Hermione?"
"None whatsoever. It was... amazing. You are amazing. Any regrets?"
"Gods, no! And, it's easy to be amazing when you have such wonderful inspiration. Hermione, you are the most incredible witch I've met in every possible way. I'm only just scared that you'll realize that you're here with me and do a bunk."
"George Weasley! You know me better than that. I don't do casual sex, and you're pretty incredible yourself. I can't believe you - of all people - could be at all insecure. You're smart, fun, funny, thoughtful, clever, loyal, honest, and caring. You've worked your way into my life, and you've changed me forever. I think you ground me... you bring me balance... you're my... antithesis, if you will."
George gave her a lopsided smile. "Love, I promise I'll look up 'antithesis' in the morning, if we could just go to sleep."
With a good-humoured chuckle, Hermione said, "I think I can agree to that." He drew her into an embrace, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Pulling the covers up over them, she performed a gentle cleansing spell and extinguished the dim lights in the room with a wave of her hand.
"Still turned on by the impressive wandless magic, Granger."
"Shut up and go to sleep, George."
"Mmm... bossy," he mumbled, drifting off, earning a soft chuckle from Hermione.
She noted that the evening, while one of the most passionate she'd ever had, had been peppered with laughter and fun. She'd never known that she could have both - intensity and laughter - and the thought lightened her heart.
Hermione usually needed a period of meditation to be able bring her mind to rest at the end of the day. Uncharacteristically, she easily followed George to sleep. Her mind was completely at peace.
My continued thanks go to my beta, LiteraryBeauty.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Wands and Wheezes