idea_of_sarcasm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2006-05-13 02:48 am
idea_of_sarcasm) wrote2006-05-13 02:48 am
Entry tags:
Fulfillment *Adult*
Title: Fulfillment
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
idea_of_sarcasm
Pairing: Hermione/Draco/Harry
Summary: It’s not about sex
Rating: *Adult* Although mild
Genre: No idea how to classify this.
Warning: Nothing above what usually rates an adult labelling - except for the threesome aspect.
Disclaimer: Shocker isn’t it that I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own anything Harry Potter related?
A/n: This dispells the notion that I do not read nor write threesomes - although it is only a drabble. This is what happens when you get home at 2 in the morning, tipsy, and your internet is finally working. Thank God for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
quills_inkstain otherwise this would be posted nowhere but my own livejournal (although that may not be a bad thing)
***********************************************************************************
She never thought she’d be here. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would find herself in this position. It had never been a fantasy or a kink of hers, but somehow that made her more at peace with the concept. It wasn’t about the sex, and somehow if someone asked her about tonight she didn’t even think that she would deny it - as she looked at the two of them staring at her as she lay on the bed it didn’t seem dirty. Any time she had been confronted with the idea of a threesome it had seemed sordid, something only those kind of people did, not her - but she didn’t feel that way anymore. This wasn’t a ‘threesome’, it was them.
Somehow it didn’t even bother her that she was naked in a bedroom with two men who were still mostly clothed. It didn’t even bother her that she had never been with either of them individually before this because tonight was about more than the sum of if its parts.
For her, it was about melting away the sorrow that had become her life. From the day that she had laid Ron to rest, between his fallen family members, she had ceased to be what she once was. She had travelled to the end of the metaphorical abyss, and had almost jumped, embracing the dark because there was no light in her life any more. And in their own individual ways Harry and Draco had been the ones who had pulled her back, given her what she needed in that bleak time. For her this wasn’t about the sex, it was completing the union with the boys who had become closer to her than she had ever thought possible.
As she looked at the two of them she still didn’t know what their motivations were. She didn’t even know whose idea this night had been. She didn’t think it had been hers - the old Hermione Granger didn’t believe things like this really existed - but she couldn’t picture who it had been who had brought them to this point. In the end though, it didn’t really matter, they were here.
But then she ceased to think because Harry was shedding his torn jeans and sliding up beside her, the material of his boxers smooth against the outside of her thigh. If she had had to pick someone to wear silk boxers it would have been Draco, not him. But when Draco shed his pants and slid onto the bed she knew that had only been an illusion because he didn’t wear anything under his custom-made trousers. And they were both there beside her, and she could feel Harry’s hand on her hip and Draco’s hand smoothing her hair, and she could sense how hesitant they were. How studiously they avoided any contact with one another, and let their actions speak only through her.
It was when Harry was thrusting deep inside of her, and Draco was spooning her from behind, his fingers playing with her clit, that she finally realized what her purpose was in their little group. She was the conduit, the way for them to be together. Because with her in the bed between them, they weren’t homosexuals, queers, or any adjective the muggle or wizarding world had come up with for it.
It may have been a testament to her arousal, or maybe to her co-dependency, that she didn’t care that they were using her like this - even if unwittingly. It didn’t matter that when Harry kissed her mouth he was seeing Draco’s face, that in reality was only two feet from his. It didn’t matter what when Draco slid his pinky finger inside that one orifice that Harry’s cock didn’t occupy he was pretending it wasn’t hers. For in reality it was her that they were pleasuring and kissing, and pouring out the deepest yearnings of their hearts to.
And although she couldn’t getwho what she really wanted, because of this she got what she needed.
And, so did they.
Author:
idea_of_sarcasmPairing: Hermione/Draco/Harry
Summary: It’s not about sex
Rating: *Adult* Although mild
Genre: No idea how to classify this.
Warning: Nothing above what usually rates an adult labelling - except for the threesome aspect.
Disclaimer: Shocker isn’t it that I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own anything Harry Potter related?
A/n: This dispells the notion that I do not read nor write threesomes - although it is only a drabble. This is what happens when you get home at 2 in the morning, tipsy, and your internet is finally working. Thank God for
quills_inkstain otherwise this would be posted nowhere but my own livejournal (although that may not be a bad thing)***********************************************************************************
She never thought she’d be here. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would find herself in this position. It had never been a fantasy or a kink of hers, but somehow that made her more at peace with the concept. It wasn’t about the sex, and somehow if someone asked her about tonight she didn’t even think that she would deny it - as she looked at the two of them staring at her as she lay on the bed it didn’t seem dirty. Any time she had been confronted with the idea of a threesome it had seemed sordid, something only those kind of people did, not her - but she didn’t feel that way anymore. This wasn’t a ‘threesome’, it was them.
Somehow it didn’t even bother her that she was naked in a bedroom with two men who were still mostly clothed. It didn’t even bother her that she had never been with either of them individually before this because tonight was about more than the sum of if its parts.
For her, it was about melting away the sorrow that had become her life. From the day that she had laid Ron to rest, between his fallen family members, she had ceased to be what she once was. She had travelled to the end of the metaphorical abyss, and had almost jumped, embracing the dark because there was no light in her life any more. And in their own individual ways Harry and Draco had been the ones who had pulled her back, given her what she needed in that bleak time. For her this wasn’t about the sex, it was completing the union with the boys who had become closer to her than she had ever thought possible.
As she looked at the two of them she still didn’t know what their motivations were. She didn’t even know whose idea this night had been. She didn’t think it had been hers - the old Hermione Granger didn’t believe things like this really existed - but she couldn’t picture who it had been who had brought them to this point. In the end though, it didn’t really matter, they were here.
But then she ceased to think because Harry was shedding his torn jeans and sliding up beside her, the material of his boxers smooth against the outside of her thigh. If she had had to pick someone to wear silk boxers it would have been Draco, not him. But when Draco shed his pants and slid onto the bed she knew that had only been an illusion because he didn’t wear anything under his custom-made trousers. And they were both there beside her, and she could feel Harry’s hand on her hip and Draco’s hand smoothing her hair, and she could sense how hesitant they were. How studiously they avoided any contact with one another, and let their actions speak only through her.
It was when Harry was thrusting deep inside of her, and Draco was spooning her from behind, his fingers playing with her clit, that she finally realized what her purpose was in their little group. She was the conduit, the way for them to be together. Because with her in the bed between them, they weren’t homosexuals, queers, or any adjective the muggle or wizarding world had come up with for it.
It may have been a testament to her arousal, or maybe to her co-dependency, that she didn’t care that they were using her like this - even if unwittingly. It didn’t matter that when Harry kissed her mouth he was seeing Draco’s face, that in reality was only two feet from his. It didn’t matter what when Draco slid his pinky finger inside that one orifice that Harry’s cock didn’t occupy he was pretending it wasn’t hers. For in reality it was her that they were pleasuring and kissing, and pouring out the deepest yearnings of their hearts to.
And although she couldn’t get
And, so did they.
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