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Draco
Sweat drips down between those glorious fucking tits, and Draco can’t help but cover one with his palm, fingers toying with the rosy, peaked buds.
Draco dreamed of this, wished for this—fuck, manifested this. Every time is a breath of fresh air. There’s a new noise she makes or a touch that imprints upon his flesh, leaving him gasping for more.
She keens, curls toppling down her back and tickling his knees as she rides him.
“Come on, baby—” he encourages.
She moves faster, nails digging into his chest as she chases her pleasure.
“Harder,” she grits, and he thrusts upward, the angle hitting her clit just right. “Fuck, Draco—”
“Gods, you feel perfect, Granger.” He flips them, driving into her until the headboard knocks against the wall. “How do you always feel so perfect?”
He mutters a cushioning charm to soften the sound of battering wood; there's no need for the pair to draw attention. The penthouse may be empty, but the floo remains open.
The last thing his mother and stepfather need to see is this.
“Made for you, right?” she mutters.
“Don’t say that—” Draco punctuates his thrust with his thumb to her clit, rubbing circles until she’s screaming his name and branding his sheets with their come.
She writhes as her back arches and abdomen clenches, teeth marks and bruises alike littering her hips and down to her thigh crease.
His cock twitches from the aftershocks. Any minute now, his heightened adrenaline will burn through, and just as his fantasy emerged, it dies right before his eyes.
Brown curls turn to sandy blonde.
Freckles disappear, leaving porcelain skin.
Chestnut transforms to blue.
“Isn’t that what you want, brother?” Daphne smirks.
“Just because my mother decided to marry your father after Lucius died doesn’t make us related.”
It wasn’t like his would last long in Azkaban anyway. The wizard wasn’t built for a life of imprisonment. Six months later, a conveniently accidental stabbing led to a Cyrus Greengrass courting Narcissa Malfoy. Draco wasn’t too put out by it. Cyrus was a good man, his views far more progressive than Draco’s father.
Astoria spent most of her time abroad, venturing to new countries while Draco and Daphne attended university after Hogwarts. Their parents thought it best to get them in a flat together just outside the campus.
That’s when it’d all started, after all.
“Aw, someone’s sensitive.” She taps her fingers down his chest, swirling over the head of his cock before she pumps not once, but twice. “Need to go again?”
“No, I’m fine.”
His hardening cock was certainly betraying him, though.
“Well, I’m not,” Daphne smirks, leaning over to the side table and pulling another vial out. “You know I need more than one to feel sated.”
It was sick what they were doing. This obsession was getting out of hand.
“Daphne…”
“Your turn. Granger.” She presses the potion in his palm. “I have a study group in an hour with her. I need to get these thoughts out of my system.”
Granger ended up in Daphne’s Political Science class, which led her to Draco’s kitchen some mornings for coffee; other times, it was takeout and a movie on Friday evenings. The worst were the inevitable interactions in their hallway when she needed to use the loo while staying over, which always somehow coincided with his need for a glass of water.
Those tiny fucking sad excuse for shorts left just enough for him to imagine her bent over as he fisted his cock later on.
However, Draco saw how his stepsister looked at the witch.
Her eyes tracked every fine detail of Granger’s meticulous note-taking, and how her lips wrapped around the pen cap as she studied a more difficult question. Her ears perked up when Granger agreed to stay for dinner or a nightcap. The only reason Draco clocked it was that it was the same way he looked at her.
Desperate and absolutely aching.
He unstops the vial, downing the potion in one gulp and waits. The shift is subtle, his chest growing and cock slowly shrinking, which was a nightmare to experience at first. What bloke wants to not have their cock?
But then the soft curls cascade over his shoulder, and the freckles speckle his skin. The first time they tried this, Draco knew he was done for. It was almost like an addiction, touching himself in her body.
The warmth of her cunt.
Those pretty fucking lips.
And gods, her taste.
Daphne slides upright, leaning against her headboard and drops her legs open. She may not be Granger, but Draco can appreciate a gorgeous witch when he sees one. Blonde waves flutter down her sweat-glistened shoulders. Her skin isn’t freckled, but there’s a soft glow from hours spent in the sun.
Her fingers are longer than Granger's, but they’re diligent as they slide over his cum, dripping down her knuckles before fingering herself deeper. Daphne tips her head to the side, pink lips popping open on a moan.
"Fucking hell, Greengrass,” Draco mutters, “let me at least have a taste.”
Daphne sucks her fingers as he drops to his elbows, glancing up as his—well, Granger’s—tongue glides through their come. Draco groans, lapping up every last drop, and Daphne’s pleas are mere white noise.
“Fuck, that’s it, Granger. That tongue, gods—” she whines, tugging his face closer. “More, please. I want more.”
He sucks, just enough for her to scream and writhe. Her legs threaten to close, but Draco uses his smaller hands to pry them open. Draco only pushes her further to the edge, adding his fingers while his tongue flicks over her clit.
“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods—” she whimpers, hips bucking up against each swipe. Before Draco can get her there, Daphne grapples for control, tugging on his arms until Draco is dragged up.
Their cunts are flush and slick with want as Daphne wiggles just enough for Draco’s eyes to roll back.
If he thought his cock was sensitive when teased, Merlin’s beard, having a cunt was a whole new world. Daphne does it again, every nerve responding until Draco twitches on top of her.
“Daphne…” he warns, fingers tightening in the bedsheets.
Daphne kisses him, fingers tangling into his curls and Salazar, it’s dizzying. The raw desire Daphne shows for Granger is almost as intense as his. But that’s the whole point of this. It’s not like they can both have her. Merlin, she probably doesn’t want either of them. This is their compromise.
A finger finds his clit, and Draco keens, pressing closer. It never gets old. Discovering every way a witch can feel pleasure has been a wonderful new game for him.
“Granger, fuck me— please, please, please, I need you,” Daphne begs. Who is Draco to deny his darling sister?
He lifts her leg until her heel rests on his shoulder. Daphne is spread wide open, her knees splayed out as her hands reach up to grip the headboard’s edge. He grinds down, their cunts pulsing together until they find a steady rhythm.
Daphne is feral, the noises echoing off every wall as she glides her hips up and down. Draco leans closer, one hand beside Daphne’s head, and the witch dares to turn and kiss his wrist.
“That’s so good,” Daphne keens. “More, please—”
“More?” he hisses. The tells are obvious in this different body. Gods, here he thought Granger looked glorious when she came, but feeling it? His nipples pull taunt, Daphne kneading one breast while her other hand reaches to toy with his clit.
“I’m so close—Hermione—”
“Come on, Greengrass—”
“No. My name.”
Draco glances down, tears welling as Daphne reaches the end of her rope.
“Daphne—let go, let me feel you.”
Daphne jerks, back arching as she nearly sobs. Arousal soaks the sheets and coats their cunts until every slight movement sends him spinning further into oblivion.
The adrenaline release shortens their time, as always. Draco’s chest grows smaller, the freckles dotting his shoulders down to his fingers are no longer visible, while his dexterous fingers lengthen from his once petite hands.
They use magic to clean themselves up, finding comfort in each other as Daphne lays her head on his shoulder. Draco tugs her closer, placing a kiss on her temple.
“I want the real thing,” Daphne admits, hand on her chest.
“Yeah, no shit, me too. But that won’t happen,” he huffs. “Are you feeling guilty now about it?”
“Absolutely not. I’m just greedy.”
It was only a matter of time before their little adventures wouldn’t be enough for either of them. Draco’s not complaining. Whatever leads him to Hermione Granger, he’ll take.
“Ah, something else we have in common,” he grins. “So… shall we scheme?”
“Nap first.”
The lustrous haze is the only reason neither hears the softened whoosh of the floo in their welcome parlour.
_________________________
Hermione
It was innovative, no, fascinating.
At first, Hermione wondered how they’d even gotten their hands on her hair. But really, the number of times she’d slept over meant she was practically handing them her DNA on a silver platter.
She sinks deeper into her sheets, finding her clit with ease and swiping quickly as she returns to the memory. Through the cracked door, she watches Draco with herself. But really her best friend Daphne. It was odd watching her reactions to his touches, his words. Merlin, his words.
“Oh fuck,” she pants, adding a second finger, and she downright shivers. Her walls flutter, begging for more. She remembers how his muscles rippled with each thrust, expert fingers toying with her nipples and swollen lips swallowing every gasp.
His cock…fucking hell.
The way Daphne moaned and pleaded, Hermione just knew it was more than satisfactory. It would stuff her full, grappling for any semblance of reality.
Then there was Daphne.
She’d dreamt of that cunt. How it would taste, How her fingers might slide through her center. It was treacherous; she almost felt jealous of Draco in her body.
Palms mapped Daphne’s supple curves, leaving Hermione’s mouth watering for more. It was improper to think of her best friend in this way, or was it?
Her begging, practically crying for more, solidified that this was far from one-sided. It was disturbing, wasn’t it? Draco and Daphne were legally bound as siblings, and yet, her need for the pair only grew. Her orgasm sparks through her, every nerve ending lighting up as she cries out.
If what she accidentally stumbled upon was any indication, then they wanted her too.
***
“That was fun.” Hermione downs the remainder of her mixed drink.
The party came to a close hours ago, and now it was just the three of them. The penthouse was littered with red cups and glittery streamers, marking the end of term and the beginning of summer.
“It’s a mess in here,” Daphne mutters, head leaning on Hermione’s shoulder as she swishes her wand.
The cleaning charm swipes through the clutter in the blink of an eye. Furniture shuffles back to its rightful place while the countertops visibly sparkle with no evidence of spilt liquor. Even at the age of twenty-three, magic still fascinates her.
“Tired?” Draco slides down on her other side, one finger wrapping around her loose curl.
“Not at all.”
She swallows, heat rising in her chest. What used to be easy touches for comfort were now laced with something more. All night, the pair had taken turns with her, acting casual as if Hermione wouldn’t notice.
Draco’s fingers caressing hers when he passed her a cup.
Daphne adjusting her straps, lingering on her exposed collarbone.
Hermione feels like she’s on fire.
“Drunk?” he asks, breath coasting over her bare neck.
Liquid courage wasn’t what she needed. Hermione is determined to keep her mind clear. This is something she wants to remember.
Hermione smirks.“Hardly.”
“Let’s play a game.” Daphne summons three cups and a bottle of Ogden’s. “Never Have I Ever. If you have, you take a shot.”
“Bloody hell, I was sober.” Draco cheers his cup. “Who shall begin?”
“Me.” Daphne sits up, knees knocking against Hermione’s as she crosses them. “Never have I ever done anal—not that I'm opposed,” she winks.
Draco and Hermione take a shot with raised brows.
“Theo.”
“Honestly, good for you.” Hermione licks her lips before admitting, “Cormac.”
“Cormac?!” Daphne shouts.
“Yeah, he had some kink with my ass.”
“Fair.” Daphne’s palm lands on the side of her thigh. “It’s a good ass.”
Hermione blushes. “Bloody fucking hurt.”
“Just means he didn’t do it right,” Draco licks his lips, eyes roving down her body.
Fucking hell.
“My turn,” Draco offers. Hermione tries to focus, but his shirt is unbuttoned, and she can see the curve of his chest and the top of his abs. It’s absolutely indecent. “Never have I ever been caught fucking.”
Hermione takes another shot, while Daphne nudges her.
“Who knew you were the exhibitionist, Granger?”
If only they knew they’d been caught.
Draco bites his lip as she swallows.
“Your turn, curls.”
It’s probably her inflated confidence from the whiskey that makes this decision when she blurts out:
“Never have I ever polyjuiced as someone else just to fuck them.”
Silence cloaks the room, both Draco and Daphne with their cups halfway lifted. Red creeps along Daphne’s chest, her eyes wide with panic, while Draco downs the rest of his drink.
It’s a test to see who breaks first.
“When?” Daphne won’t even look at her. Her lips fold in, and she fiddles with the hem of her dress.
“Last week.” Hermione flips her hair from her shoulder.
Draco leans back, one arm perched on the armrest until the veins are prominent from tension.
“Should we expect this to be our last rendezvous?”
At least he’s forward about it.
“No.”
“Wha—” Daphne chokes out.
“I’ve told myself that wanting both of you was wrong.” She takes Daphne’s cup and sets it down with hers on the table. “That it was fucked up. But I don’t care anymore. Clearly, neither do either of you.”
Hermione does what she’s wanted for the first time in a long time. She crawls into Daphne’s lap, knees straddling her hips. Pink blooms over her friend’s cheeks as she grips Hermione’s thighs with shaky hands.
“Fuck, Granger…” Draco hisses, wasting no time. Hands slide up her waist from one side as he presses his nose to the crook of her neck. “Here we thought we’d have to work to get you in our bed,” he nips at her neck, “Meanwhile, you’ve been gagging for it, haven’t you, baby?”
“I’d come to see if you had notes from the lecture we had on Political Theory,” Hermione blurts out before another set of hands glides under her dress. Lips find her neck, and she whimpers. “The door to Daph’s room was cracked.”
Draco’s chest rumbles against her back, his chuckle deep and throaty. “Saw us, did you? Which part? Where you rode my cock until you screamed?”
“Or when you ate my cunt until I squirted?” Daphne adds.
“Oh gods,” Hermione squeezes her eyes shut, relishing in Daphne's hands under her knickers, while Draco squeezes and kneads her breast. Her head falls back as he pinches one bud.
“Both.” She nearly flies off the couch, hips jolting when Daphne finds her clit.
“Hmmmm, I suppose the polyjuice was accurate.” Another press and Hermione’s knees tighten on Daphne’s hips. “So sensitive.”
Draco sucks a bruise on her shoulder, right where it meets her neck, as his hands tug her zipper open. The straps slip down her arms, exposing her bare chest just before he vanishes the entire article of clothing.
The whiskey warms her against the cool touch of Draco’s ring pressing into the underside of her breast as he pushes it up. The peaked bud was an offering for Daphne’s welcoming mouth.
“Holy—fuck— that mouth, Daph—” Hermione threads her fingers into blond waves, holding her closer. Draco begins his own journey, the metal searing over her freckles until it scrapes over her other nipple. He continues, finding the right pressure with each noise Hermione offers.
“I knew it,” Draco concludes, one hand teasing down to her cheeks. He plucks the thong away his fingers meeting Daphne's as they beg to work her even more. “The real thing is even better.”
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—” she gasps. Draco’s thumb swipes more arousal, bringing it to her rim and circling while Daphne flicks her clit. “I— too much.”
“Aw, baby, can’t handle it?” Daphne teases. “Just imagine how she’ll sound when we fuck her, brother.
Draco balances his chin on Hermione’s shoulder, and Daphne pulls away from her chest long enough to kiss him. Hermione watches, their tongues licking into each other’s mouths as their fingers refuse to relent in her torture.
“Please,” she sighs as they break apart. It’s just their fingers, but the double penetration is enough to send her to the edge.
“Do you feel left out, baby?” Draco turns her face, index finger hooked under her chin. Grey eyes search for any reluctance before brushing a teasing kiss to her lips. Hermione doesn’t let him stop there and quickly pulls him closer.
Daphne takes advantage, adding a second finger while Hermione sinks further into submission. They can do whatever they want to her, as long as it feels this good. Draco manages another knuckle deeper, breaking away on a moan.
“So fucking tight.”
“My turn,” Daphne tugs Hermione closer, capturing her lips. They're softer than Draco’s but taste just as bitter with temptation.
Her favorite.
They work with her, both finding a rhythm. Lips are everywhere, marking—branding—her. If she feels full now, she can only imagine how deliciously unbearable it will be with his cock.
“More,” she cries out, one hand reaching behind to hold Draco’s head close to her neck while the other remains rooted in Daphne’s hair.
It’s not fair how they’ve got her in next to nothing while both remain almost fully clothed. But Hermione’s argument is weak, dying on her tongue when Draco chuckles.
“Hear that, brother?” Daphne licks over her nipple, fingers thrusting harder. “Granger wants more.”
“Yeah, I bet she fucking does.” Draco bites her shoulder. “Say it, baby—” Hermione whines. “No, use your words, Granger.”
“Fuck me.”
“We are,” he punctuates each word, teeth scraping along her jaw.
“I want—shit shit shit—your cock, Draco.”
“Where?” he urges as she pushes against Daphne’s palm.
“My mouth.”
Draco groans, his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her closer.
“We need more room—” Daphne summons her wand, quickly resizing the couch into a large bed. Another swish and her friend is now bare, her perky tits bouncing as she scoots further up.
The sudden loss leaves Hermione feeling more desperate. “Wait—don’t—”
“Come on, babe,” Daphne motions, but Draco’s grip tightens, “Draco, let her move.”
“Fine.”
He lets go, taking the cue and slipping his shirt off while Hermione shifts up the couch. She barely gets a glance at his trousers falling before Daphne maneuvers her to lie down.
Immediately, warmth covers her core, a tongue swiping over her already sensitive clit.
“Oh fuck—”
Draco appears over her, his knee brushing the top of her head as he leans closer. From here, up close, Hermione nearly faints. What in the seven heavens did she do to get to have both of them? His hand slides down his chest, fingers trailing over faint scars, until he reaches his cock.
It’s ready, the head twitching and precum beading at the tip.
“Guess we all can have what we wish for today, hm?” His hand wraps around his length.
Hermione doesn’t need to be told anything. She turns her head and opens her mouth just as Daphne finds that one delicious spot. A groan, deep in her throat, rumbles as she swallows Draco down. Her tongue swirls in time with Daphne’s, glee erupting through her chest when his eyes roll back.
“More?” Draco grunts as he strokes the curls from her forehead.
She nods.
He thrusts shallowly into her mouth, the motion calculated as if he’s scared to lose control. “That fucking mouth.”
“That fucking cunt,” Daphne adds.
Hermione is lost in a haze. There’s not a single inch of her not covered in them. It’s not a competition; they’re both working her to the brim, his cock covered in her saliva and dripping down her chin as Daphne shifts to lift her leg.
She doesn’t even know what's happening until Daphne’s cunt drags over hers. Hermione’s eyes widen, unable to contain herself as a gargled whine releases.
“So much better,” Daphne chants, nipples peaking. Hermione grips her hip, while her other hand reaches to hold Draco in place.
They fuck her with no abandon, one part of her stuffed full at all times. Tears prick her eyes as she peaks. Come coats her throat, and she swallows without a second thought. Even as she quivers through the aftershocks, Daphne rubs gentle circles, keeping her on edge.
“The real thing is always better.”
“I’m– I’m not,” Hermione sighs, “a thing.”
Gods, she sounds pathetic with barely any authority to her declaration.
“So stubborn.” Draco’s fingers trail down her face with a gentleness she’s not used to. It’s unnerving how they’re both looking at her. “Even when fucked out,” Draco affirms with a quick kiss, “and we’ve barely begun.”
“What?” She furrows her brows, and Draco lifts her.
“You think my dear sister is the only one who gets to claim this cunt?” He cups her center, warm and enticing. Hermione moans. “Think again, baby. My turn.”
He drags her back, knocking her knees apart before bending her forward. He spits, letting it slip down her cheeks and between her thighs. His fingers follow, working her open until she’s begging and pleading for more.
Draco grips her strands, guiding her head down to the sprawled-out witch before her. Daphne’s hands settle on her thighs, holding herself open.
“Let Daphne feel that tongue on her curls.”
Her first lick is tentative, almost experimental, and Daphne sighs contentedly. Draco wastes no time, slowly pushing in until her delirium spirals. His thumb works their come over her backside, each thrust pushing her closer to Daphne’s center.
Hermione nearly screams when his thumbs push past the rim, almost in sync with his thrust. Daphne’s hand remains on her head, encouraging her with each buck of her hips. Hermione flicks her clit, while rocking back onto Draco’s cock.
Every bit of sensibility is going out the fucking window.
“Gonna do this every day,” Draco mutters, thrusting harder, “fuck both of you every day.”
“Both of us, huh?” Daphne lifts Hermione's head. “Look at him, darling. He’s so proud.”
Hermione glances over her shoulder, his lopsided grin wide as he makes a show of spitting down her cheeks again. He’s so ridiculously hot, it’s not fair.
“Yes, both of you. Hear that, Granger?” He pushes forward, cock hitting just the spot her fingers can’t reach, and she whines. “What was that? Can’t hear you, baby.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” She pushes back in search of more. Draco holds steadfast to one hip, keeping her in place. “Please, oh god.”
“You can come when Daphne does, how’s that?”
She lifts onto her elbows, sweat glistening down the curve of her back as she arches. Both forearms loop under Daphne’s thighs, tugging her closer.
“You’re so pretty, Daphne.” She teases her tongue through her core until just the tip flicks over her clit.
A litany of curses echoes through the room. Lust and desire coat their skin, their pleas for more not going unheard. It’s not until the hold on Hermione’s hair tightens and Daphne shrieks, soaking Hermione’s face, that Draco gives in.
His other hand sneaks to her front, pressing down on her clit while he works her ass and cunt. Everything blurs, the overload of ecstasy blinding her. Tears fall down her cheeks as her body convulses with release.
“Fucking hell,” she gasps, boneless.
She falls face first into the couch, Draco propping an elbow on the other side of her hip and dragging his finger over her stomach. Daphne strokes her curls until her lashes flutter closed.
When Hermione awakes, groggy from sleep with no idea what time it is, she glances to either side of her. Draco and Daphne remain, hands possessively on her hips with their fingers intertwined.
She squirms, and their hold tightens.
“Don’t move,” Draco groans, lips pressing to her shoulder.
“But—”
“Hermione, go back to sleep,” Daphne encourages, lips on her neck.
Heat coils in her belly as they continue, and Hermione is nearly out of breath. “We—we—-didn’t finish the game.”
It’s such an easy cop out, but she practically feels their smirks on her skin.
“Never have I ever wanted to not do that again,” she admits.
“Never will we ever stop,” Draco assures, sliding into her as Daphne captures her lips.