“Yes, Ron, harder,” Hermione called, voice breathy.

“There?” Ron asked and was rewarded with a moan and a demand for more.

Harry tilted his head to one side to listen.  Squinting, he could barely make out the bedside clock that read eight in the morning.  He heard Hermione moan again and felt himself react.

He tossed back the covers and get out of bed.  With a shiver, since he was clad only in his boxers and the morning had a chill, he padded into the living room.

“What –” He stopped himself before he could finish the question.  Despite what it sounded like his lovers were doing, Ron was actually giving Hermione a deep-muscle massage.

Ron paused and glanced back over his shoulder.  “Morning, Harry.”  His eyes swept down Harry’s body, then back to his face.  “Feeling left out?”

Harry knew that look.  It was the expression that was usually on his face just before he pounced, either on himself or Hermione.  He felt himself harden painfully.

“Yes,” he finally answered, crossing the room and kneeling next to where Ron was straddling Hermione on the floor.

“Morning, Harry,” Hermione muttered, in a half-awake state from Ron’s massage.

Ron said nothing else, but snaked one hand behind Harry’s head and drew him close for a kiss, sweeping through Harry’s mouth with his tongue.

Harry grasped Ron and he rolled off Hermione, drawing both of them down to lie on the floor.  Harry slid one leg over Ron’s, trapping him, and returned the kiss with his tongue and full-body contact.

“Like that this morning, is it?” Hermione asked, amused.

“God, yes,” Ron moaned into Harry’s mouth.

“Want a morning quickie?” Harry asked, nipping at Ron’s jaw.

Ron didn’t answer; he flipped Harry onto his stomach and yanked off his boxers instead.  He kneaded the cheeks of Harry’s arse with one hand and searched the side table blindly with the other.

Letting out a small cheer when he found the lubricant, he liberally coated his fingers, then slid two into Harry. Harry squirmed under Ron’s ministrations, arching upward toward his fingers. Ron merely bore down harder before abruptly pulling his fingers out.

Harry could only hear the distant sounds of the building and neighborhood that indicated it was Sunday before Ron groaned.  He grabbed Harry’s hips and positioned his cock at Harry’s entrance.

With a swift thrust, Ron slid himself into Harry.  Ron moaned, and Harry just sighed, practically melting into the floor.

“Don’t you two look good that way,” Hermione drawled.  When both boys looked up, she tossed aside her robe and slipped off her knickers to leave herself starkers.

“Oh, God, Hermione,” Harry gasped.  He bucked back against Ron before instructing, “Up a bit, I want Hermione under me.”

Hermione murmured her approval of the idea.  After Ron got to his knees, allowing Harry up off the floor, Hermione positioned herself underneath Harry.  He hissed in pleasure as he slid his erection into Hermione.

It always blew his mind to be in the middle; to feel Ron’s hard cock inside him and to feel Hermione’s wetness wrapped around his cock.  He never lasted long.

“I’ve got to move,” Ron said harshly.  Before Harry or Hermione could reply, he held Harry’s hips with one hand and began stroking in and out slowly enough that Harry could match the rhythm for Hermione.

Then Ron bent and nipped at the back of Harry’s neck.  Harry shivered in delight.

“Harder,” he said, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” Hermione gasped, hands clutching at Harry’s back.  “More.”

“You really want it harder?” Ron asked, both hands now on Harry’s hips.  “You want me to fuck you harder?”

Harry dropped his head to Hermione’s shoulder before answering, “Hell yes.”

He felt Hermione moan appreciatively when Ron laughed and drove himself into Harry.  “You asked for it.”

From then on, Harry had no control over the encounter.  Ron was in control.  Ron slammed himself in and out of Harry, sliding over his prostate every third thrust or so, forcing him into Hermione.  Hermione bucked and moaned beneath him, her hard nipples rubbing his sensitized chest and driving him mad.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore.  He braced his hands on either side of Hermione’s head, locked his elbows and drove himself hard into Hermione as he came.

At the back of his mind, he felt Hermione lock her feet around his knees, pulling him in deeper.  She squeezed tight as the tremors of her orgasm wracked her body.  His arms trembled, exhausted, but he couldn’t collapse or he’d hurt Hermione.

He kissed her gently on the lips before closing his eyes and resting his forehead on her shoulder again.  He chuckled when she said, “Dammit, Ron, come already.”

The vibrations of Harry’s laugh must have driven Ron over the edge, because he groaned, “Your wish is my command,” before thrusting hard into Harry three or four times, emptying himself.

“Mmm, I like mornings like that,” Hermione said, grinning.

Ron fell to one side, dragging Harry with him.

“You’re a mess, Harry,” Ron said, smiling.

Harry opened his eyes, licking his lips at the look on Hermione’s face.  “I think he needs a bath.”

Ron rubbed his morning stubble against the back of Harry’s neck and shoulders, making him shiver.  “Do you think so?”

She ran her hands up Harry’s chest and Ron followed their path with his own hands.  Harry moaned and squirmed slightly, feeling like a cat being well petted.  She nipped at the underside of Harry’s jaw.

“Yes, Harry is a dirty boy this morning.”

Harry smiled and closed his eyes again.  “But you like me that way.”

Ron kissed his ear and murmured, “Damn right we do.”