I awoke to the sun shining in my eyes.  Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, I saw that it was early, only seven-thirty.  After last night, what the hell am I doing up at this hour?  Sometime during my sleep, one of the boys laid a blanket over me.

I stretched, feeling the blanket rub against my sensitized skin and soreness in muscles I didn’t know I had.  Standing, I had to clutch the back of the couch for a minute to let a wave of dizziness pass.  I grabbed Harry’s shirt from the floor since it was closer than Ron’s and slipped it on, only doing up the middle buttons.  Even after last night –  or especially after last night – I was uncomfortable walking about the boys’ flat starkers.

I was about to grab something to eat from the kitchen when it struck me:  where were Ron and Harry?  They weren’t in the living room or kitchen.  Listening carefully, I did hear suspicious noises down the hall.

Curiosity got the better of me and I walked carefully down the hallway in search of them.  The first bedroom was Ron’s – clearly identified by a half-dozen searing orange Cannons posters.  No boys.

A noise sounded again, this time suspiciously close to a moan.  I stood frozen.  Whether from shock, disgust, or arousal, I don’t know.  Bypassing the bathroom – which I noted had been used recently – I followed the noises and the wet footprints into Harry’s bedroom.

If I had thought seeing them kiss last night was a turn-on, then seeing this was an inferno.  Ron lay on the bed braced against the pillows, naked and still damp from the shower.  His eyes were closed and hands fisted into Harry’s wet hair.  Harry was kneeling on the mattress between Ron’s outstretched legs, hands braced on Ron’s thighs with his mouth wrapped around Ron’s cock.

I fell against the doorjamb in shock.  Wow.  Dimly, I noted the water droplets on their skin.  I guess they took a shower.  “Damn,” I muttered softly, not exactly sure what or who I was cursing.

“Mione?” Ron asked softly, peering at me through barely-open eyes.

Harry eased his mouth off Ron slowly, then sat back.  “Good morning, bookworm,” he said, smiling wickedly.

Ron sat up swiftly and grabbed Harry’s head, turning it so they were staring at each other.  “You’re not done, Wonder Boy,” Ron barked, then pushed Harry’s head down as he lay back again.

I said nothing.  I was feeling a little left out, but wasn’t going to say anything.  If these two wanted to explore each other, then who was I to interfere?  Harry settled back in, devouring Ron as if he’d been doing it for years.  Wait a minute...what if he had been doing it for years?

I moved a chair to the edge of the bed.  Sitting down, I rested my feet on the edge of the mattress, deliberately not pressing my knees together.

“Ron?”

Ron blinked then looked over at me, his blue eyes dark.  At the same time Ron noticed he could see every bit of me and gasped, Harry took Ron so deep that he choked himself.  Ron arched his back and moaned.  Harry eased off, but didn’t let go.

“Ron?”

Licking his lips and taking a shuddering breath, Ron finally answered, “Yes?”

“Is this the first time you and Harry have....”  Here I trailed off, unable to come up with an appropriate word for what they were doing to each other – and me.

Harry removed his mouth long enough to supply, “Fucked?”  To punctuate the answer, Harry took a long lick of Ron’s cock, treating it like a lolly.  Then he took Ron’s cock in one hand and began working it with his fist and his mouth.

That was enough for Ron.  He gasped once, then, with a guttural moan, clutched Harry’s head to hold him still, driving himself deep into Harry’s mouth as he came.

I hadn’t realized my fingers had snuck down to play with my clit until I hit a spot sore from last night.  Hissing, I removed my fingers and rested my hands on the arms of the chair.

Harry ran his tongue around Ron’s now-flaccid cock, then moved to lay on his bed between us.  His eyes were closed and a smirk was playing at his lips.

“Well, is it?” I managed to ask again.

Ron was apparently in no condition to answer, because he only grunted.  Harry smiled, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Between us,” Harry began, “yes.”  He then turned on his side, fixing me in his emerald gaze.  I caught my lower lip in my teeth, trying to prevent myself from reacting to Harry’s smoldering eyes.

I tore my eyes away from his so I could think, and dug my fingers into the arms of the chair.  Then I realized he had placed his emphasis on us.  “Wait a minute.  What do you mean ‘Between us’?”

Harry shifted on the bed until he was kneeling between my feet.  “I like the way my shirt looks on you, but I’d like it better off.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I said as I removed his shirt and dropped it on the floor.

He grinned.  That grin should be forbidden.  “No, it doesn’t.”  And, with that, he grabbed my hands and pulled me onto the bed.

I landed unceremoniously against Ron, waking him from his light doze.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” he spat, “Do you mind?”  But even as he spoke, Ron’s arms snaked around me, pulling me tight against him.  I squirmed, somewhat because he was unintentionally tickling me and somewhat to tease.  He expelled his breath as a hiss around gritted teeth.  “You’re killing me, Hermione.”

Ron snaked his left hand down to my stomach and his right on my forehead.  “Be still, wench,” he whispered in my ear.

When I opened my mouth to protest, Harry dove and captured it in a kiss.  Ron began licking my earlobe and nibbling my neck at the same time.  A bone-melting shudder ran through me. Harry moved to press himself full-length against me, sandwiching me between them.

I felt hands everywhere:  Harry’s sliding over and past me to caress Ron, my own on their way to Ron or Harry, Ron’s between us either on one of my breasts or around Harry’s cock.

Then a wicked thought assailed me. I wanted to see the two of them together. Penetration of places other than mouth.

Harry bent his head to suckle one of my nipples as Ron stroked Harry’s cock.

I could feel Ron hardening against me. I had fantasized about being with two men at once – as had most of the women I knew – but now, even more so than last night, they were driving me mad.  Maybe it was knowing that Ron’s cock – which had driven me to such heights last night – had been in Harry’s mouth.

“I want....”  I gasped as Ron lifted my top leg onto Harry’s hip.  I could feel both of them rubbing against my sex and against each other.

Harry released my nipple long enough to ask, “What do you want, Hermione?”

While I wanted to say that I wanted them to fill me at the same time, to have them both driving into me, I held back.  Another night, I promised myself.

What I answered was, “To watch.”

“Watch?” Ron murmured against my shoulder.

One of them moved across my clit, making me squirm and pull Harry closer with my leg.  At this point, the thought of what I was doing was as arousing as the doing of it.  It reminded me of something I read that a woman’s most sexual organ is her mind.

Before it’s destroyed by two sexier-than-hell men bent on the annihilation of your sanity.

“To watch, Hermione?” Ron said in my ear.  He reached down to grab my hips and reposition himself into the crease of my arse.  As Ron did that, Harry shifted and drove himself into me.

“Could it be that our little bookworm is a voyeur, too?” Harry said, amused, as he moved his hips.

My brain was melting.  That was the only explanation I could come up with for my behavior.  Too many books and my brain had exploded from the information overload.

“Yes,” I hissed.  Before I could continue, I had to moan as I felt Ron slide his cock between my thighs, rubbing it against both my wetness and Harry’s cock when he stroked out of me.

“Ron, I think she’s about to come,” Harry said.

“I do believe you’re right, Harry,” Ron replied.

And as they both stroked against me, Harry’s prediction came true as I died between them.

“Yes, Hermione, come for us,” Ron whispered in my ear.

I think that’s when I blacked out for a few minutes because when I was next aware of my surroundings, Harry and Ron were no longer sandwiching me.  They were on the other side of the bed, Harry propping his head on one hand and Ron spooned against his back.

They were watching me.

If I had a picture of them at that moment, I could sell it and never work a day for the rest of my life.

Harry, so dark in comparison to Ron, looked like a fallen angel intent on seduction.  His eyes, those damned emerald eyes, shone heavy-lidded with desire from underneath a lock of his raven hair.  His mouth, made more for a high-priced whore than a boy much less innocent than he looked, was curved with satisfaction.

My attention was drawn to Ron when his large, pale-but-for-the-freckles hand ran possessively over Harry’s chest.  In the position they were in, I could really only see Ron’s face, one shoulder and arm.  I smiled.  But what a face.

I often thought people were drawn to Ron like moths to his flame.  He burned as brightly as Harry was dark.  His blue eyes were fixed on mine, darkened to sapphire, and bright.  His hair shone in the morning light, shafts of sunlight backlighting him and making it appear as if he really was burning.  I broke eye contact and studied his mouth.  Not as overtly sexual as Harry’s, his lips were firm and a pale pink, the lower larger than the upper.

“You two look like hedonistic gods,” I said slowly.

All I wanted to do was jump one of them – both of them –  again.  How could I be aroused again?  I’d already had them – or, more correctly, they’d had me – more times than I could remember.

Harry merely smiled and, using his free hand, stopped Ron’s hand from tracing absent patterns on his chest.  Ron ducked his head and buried his lips in Harry’s hair.

“Do you still want to watch us?” Harry asked.

Swallowing hard, I squeaked my answer from my suddenly dry mouth:  “Yes.”