Harry closed the door behind his two best friends and leaned his back against it. He stood there lost in thought for several long moments before allowing himself to slide down the smooth wood until he was seated on the floor, knees bent in front of him. He raked his hands through his hair, causing it to stick up at odd angles like it had done throughout his adolescence, and groaned in utter frustration.
Nothing for it – the throbbing bulge in his trousers wasn’t going away on its own anytime soon, not with the memory of a naked Hermione in the forefront of his mind. He could NOT see his next patient while sporting a raging erection. He had once believed he would finally outgrow pointless attractions when he and Ginny had fully reconciled after the war.
Harry tried talking himself out of it, but not one of the usual arguments worked.
I’m dating Ginny, and it’s not fair to her if I’m attracted to someone else. Hermione is my best friend’s wife, and it’s not fair to him for me to want her.
That one usually worked, but it wasn’t helping this time. Of course, Hermione had been naked this time.
Okay, I’m a Healer. Hermione is a patient and she was only in my office naked because it was necessary that she be that way for a prenatal exam. Nothing sexy about a prenatal exam. NOTHING! I just need to grow up and be professional about it! But, oh Merlin, she was wet! Wet for my touch – she clenched and climaxed while I stroked inside her!
Harry tried to force himself to focus his thoughts on Ginny as he unzipped his trousers and reached in to remove his straining cock. Red hair, creamy freckled skin. Yes, that was better, more appropriate. He began to stroke himself. No, this wasn’t quite working.
Harry leaned his head back against the door and shifted around a bit to more fully extract his testicles from the confines of his trousers and pants, feeling if a job was worth doing, it was worth doing right. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to help him relax as he ran a hand underneath his balls and began to massage them gently. He wrapped his other hand around the base of his prick and sighed contentedly on the upstroke, then winced at the sharp tapping sound on the door above his head.
"Healer Potter?" a timid female voice called. "Is everything okay, Sir? Are you ready for your next patient?"
Harry cleared his throat. "Give me a minute. I just need to finish up with my, erm, case notes."
Harry listened for the sound of footsteps receding down the hall before returning to the task at hand. Now where was I? Oh, right then – red hair, creamy freckled skin, long legs with Quidditch-toned thighs topped by ginger curls – surrounding a hard and eager cock. Fuck! Wait, that’s not right! Damn, what’s wrong with me? I am NOT thinking about Ron now!
But even as Harry berated himself for the image, his mind’s eye saw himself taking that hard and eager cock into his own wet and willing mouth, and he felt his balls tighten just before his own cock erupted in a shower of white spunk all over his hand, his trousers and the floor.
Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?
Harry awkwardly removed his wand from his right trouser pocket with this left hand and cast a cleaning charm over everything in the general area of his lap, then shrugged his shoulders to release a bit of the tension he still felt before telling his assistant he was ready for his next patient.
Ron stepped from the Floo into the living room of their modest flat and turned to take Hermione’s hand as she entered behind him. She really didn't need help, of course, but his Mum had always said you should make an extra effort toward gentlemanly behavior when a lady was expecting. And that, at the moment, was about as gentlemanly as he could get given the raging hard-on he’d been trying to ignore since about thirty seconds after he’d walked into the exam room and saw Hermione’s flushed face with Harry’s fingers buried inside her. Ron knew that look – whether intentionally or otherwise, Harry had just brought his wife to orgasm, and instead of hurt or jealousy, all Ron felt was turned on – very turned on.
Ron pulled Hermione toward himself and enveloped her in a gentle embrace, bending to give her a tender kiss. His strategical mind was frantically trying to work out a means of getting his wife into their bed and naked beneath him without seeming like a git for wanting to pounce on a pregnant woman. He soon found cunning would not be necessary because Hermione was already shoving her tongue into his mouth and backing him toward their bedroom.
"I think we should celebrate, don’t you?" she asked as she shucked off her blouse and pushed her skirt down over her still-slim hips. Her hands were on the button to the jeans he’d changed into after Quidditch practice before his mind could even formulate an answer, but he wasn’t complaining. A minute later, he was naked on top of the duvet and Hermione was straddling his calves, one hand planted on the mattress on either side of him, as her mouth lowered towards his crotch. There were no teasing licks or nibbles; she went straight for the head of his cock and swallowed him to the root. Bloody fuck!
Ron nearly lost it then from the sudden shock of sensation, but managed to control himself through sheer force of will – a skill he’d worked hard to master as Hermione’s skill at fellatio improved. He had to smile at the word - fellatio - and how silly it sounded, even in his thoughts. Hermione had been quite serious when she told him if he wanted her to continue doing it, he’d better learn the proper term for it because crude expressions like "blow job" were only tolerable when they were actually doing it.
Ron shifted himself up to rest on his elbows so he could watch Hermione sucking him, and as he did, his calf brushed against Hermione’s pubic hair. He couldn’t miss the wetness he felt there, and he knew some of it was because she had his cock in her mouth. But he also remembered the flush on her cheeks when she was with Harry not even a half hour earlier, and he realized that the spectacular feeling between his own legs at that moment was at least partially due to Harry having gotten his wife aroused in the first place. He’d also felt the bulge in Harry’s trousers when he hugged him, and he knew Harry well enough to know he was too honorable to get aroused by every witch who spread her legs in his office. Ron licked his lips and wondered how that bulge might have felt if it hadn’t been trapped behind so much cloth, and without even having time to warn her, Ron was flooding Hermione’s mouth.
Hermione swallowed several times quickly, clearly overwhelmed at the suddenness and the volume of Ron’s release, then she pushed herself up into a sitting position, a satisfied smirk on her face. She waited patiently until the dazed look on her husband’s face cleared a bit and he looked at her with penetrating blue eyes.
"Liked that, did you?" she asked rather cheekily. "Now it’s my turn" And with that, she flopped down on the bed beside him and stared at him rather expectantly.
Ron rolled over and gave her a scorching kiss to express just how much he’d liked it, probing her mouth with his tongue and tasting himself there. And somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, a thought simmered.
I wonder what Harry would taste like there?
Ron shook his head and tried to focus on the feel of Hermione’s tongue against his own and the weight of her breast in his palm.
I am NOT wondering what Harry’s spunk tastes like! Damn, what’s wrong with me?
Hermione responded to Ron’s kiss enthusiastically and wondered absently how it would feel to kiss Harry that way. She’d always found him attractive – well, at least since fifth year anyway. She accepted that she sometimes had inappropriate fantasies about her best friend. It was perfectly normal to think of Harry as a sexual being on occasion; he was a handsome war hero and probably every witch with a pulse had at least one fantasy involving Harry. Probably a fair few wizards did as well.
Nothing wrong with that, she told herself, as long as I don’t act on it. Of course, I DID come all over Harry’s hand not even an hour ago – in the middle of a pelvic exam no less – to confirm I’m healthy enough to carry his best friend’s baby to term. But THAT was Harry’s fault. He was hard. I thought he was when he first touched me, but I could feel it for certain when he brushed against me. And, oh Merlin, the feeling of Harry’s hard cock against the back of my naked thigh ...
"So did he?" Ron asked, looking a bit frustrated from his current position poised above his wife, cock just barely brushing her entrance as if waiting for something.
Hermione could only assume he’d been talking to her while she’d been lost in her thoughts. The last thing she consciously recalled was Ron leaning over her as they kissed. When did he move?
"I’m sorry, did who what?"
"Did Harry say it was okay for us to fuck?"
"Oh, you know what I mean, ‘Mione. Us having sex won’t hurt the baby, will it?"
Hermione seemed to calm a bit at the question.
"Oh, no. I didn’t even ask Harry that, but no one stops having sex just because of pregnancy unless it’s a high-risk pregnancy. It’ll be fine."
I can’t believe I got so lost thinking about Harry that I forgot I was in the middle of having sex with my husband! I must be losing my mind!
Hermione moaned with contentment as she felt Ron’s familiar girth slide into her and start to thrust. It had been a bit clumsy at first between them, but Ron was a quick learner, and now – sweet Merlin the man knew how to fuck!
I wonder how Harry would feel inside me? I can’t believe how good it felt for him to just touch me today, and when Ron came in and Harry didn’t even flinch – damn that was hot – having Ron watching as Harry touched me. I wonder how it would be having them both touching me? Or touching each other?
Hermione felt herself clenching hard around Ron’s cock as she came, biting her lip to keep from screaming out Harry’s name along with Ron’s.
Damn, what’s wrong with me?