She Was Laughing
She was laughing.
Remus laughed into her ears too, her legs anchored on his lap, thighs fresh and moving and tingling with life. Yes. That's what she was saying-or not saying, it didn't really matter-Yes. Yes. Yes. Her mouth was sweet and wet and Remus' tongue told him so, full of heat, desire, whatever. Come on, professor, fuck me harder. Such a casual way Hermione says it, too, like saying "Can you help me on this problem?" but not those words, no, not quite-
Sirius joined them sometimes, out of the little whims that he has, kinks of his mind or the kinks of his cock, whichever. And Remus wasn't sure how he fitted in this quite yet. (But see, Hermione only came along when Remus settled down in Hogwarts again, so everything probably will work out fine.) Hermione certainly didn't protest, so Remus sometimes watched while Sirius went on and slid his hands down Hermione's knickers, laughing quietly unto himself. But the way Hermione stared at Remus, with her absent fingers in Sirius' hair and his mouth on her neck and all, it made Remus think if she was really just fifteen. Heh, fifteen. That's when he and Sirius started to fool around.
Hermione liked to watch too, when Sirius would presume to grind his hips and his lips and his cock into Remus and Remus would take it as it comes, whatever it meant for him. Or when Remus would make Sirius squirm in his seat and make him come in his pants. She says there's a dynamics about guys fucking each other silly that's utterly attractive. Remus believed her. But the thing about Hermione is that she is so nonchalant that it drives both of them insane. Even when Sirius' tongue is on her breast or shoulder or clit, she would just look carefully dazed, occasionally snapping her strain to allow the two men to hear her breath hitch.
And that won't do at all.
So Remus one day, while drinking his tea, suggested something to Sirius that made him laugh. We might just do that, he said, grinning like a madman that he is. We might just do that. Sirius liked repeating himself. A habit from Azkaban, Remus thought.
That night, Remus grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the bathroom. Oh no, you're not doing this, she laughed aloud, head dizzy with swooning, imaginings, the things that were to come. And with Sirius' help, Remus had her naked and pressed against the bathroom tiles, ably pinned into motionlessness-except for her mouth of course, she could do anything with her mouth. She screamed, (and thank goodness for those Silencing Charms,) and screamed and screamed because Remus was fucking her so hard and she had to scream for more. In fact, she was saying so many dirty things that Sirius joined them, his hands on them both. Threatening to plunder. (As if.)
But the other thing about Hermione is that she's a tease. Remus only found out that night because he found Hermione's heated mouth in between his thighs, those lovely, lovely lips, while Sirius was fucking him. Yeah. Remus said. Oh god, don't do this to me now, don't. Don't. But she did it anyway, her tongue and her deft fingers barely touching him, just barely, while her eyes nailed shut on Remus' distracted gaze. She smiled. She even chuckled, and Remus' hips were bucking to the rhythm of Sirius' body.
The next day, Hermione complained quietly that she had weird marks and bruises all over her body. She showed some to them-marks on her thighs, her neck, on her back.
"You know, things would be a lot easier for you if would just scream like that every night," Sirius said.
She snickered, "Yeah, but see, I find it very amusing, the things you two come up with when you're desperate."