Work Text:
“Hermione and Ron are separating.”
Draco’s wife stood at their bedside, massaging coconut-fig lotion into her legs—her nightly ritual before crawling under the duvet. He sat shirtless, propped against the headboard, flipping through a book he’d read a hundred times. It lived on his nightstand, purely there to tire his eyes.
“Should we send Granger a congratulatory gift then?” he smirked, unsurprised by the news.
“ You’re a twat, Draco .” Ginny rolled her eyes, tossing her lotion to the nightstand.
“ What?! You’ve got five brothers, and Granger somehow managed to pick the worst of the lot,” he teased.
He’d been married to Ginny Weasley for three years now. When they first got together back in their mandatory eighth year, he could admit that shagging her on the locker room floor had been more about spiting Potter than anything else. They’d just broken up, and she was desperate enough for revenge to be exactly the type Draco craved back then. She hated him, and she fucked him with that hatred until neither of them could think straight.
But somewhere along the way, Ginny Weasley had injected herself into his blood. He became obsessed with her, determined never to let go, no matter what it cost to tell their families. His mother had been surprisingly pleased. The Weasleys were pureblood, after all, and known for being fruitful. Molly and Arthur, on the other hand, had been less than welcoming, and winning over her brothers and friends had been a bloody nightmare.
Ginny had slid into the snake pit as if she belonged there. She was mouthy, fiery, and strong. The very things he loved about her, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy adored in her too. In return, Draco tolerated Longbottom, Lovegood, and Granger for her sake.
Scarhead and the Weasel, though—they had never warmed to the idea. Their bitter faces at the wedding had only made the day sweeter.
“A separation isn’t the same as a divorce,” Ginny said, rolling onto the bed. Her night dress slipped up, revealing the freckles dusting her cunt. Draco tilted his head, his eyes lingering. It was a damn shame she was still taking the potion.
“Then what’s the point?” he muttered, tossing the book aside. He crawled over to her, peppering kisses down her breasts.
“Apparently, they want to try being apart. Hermione says they’ve only ever known each other and want to see what it’s like,” Ginny studdered as Draco’s mouth claimed her skin. “Their therapist— some Muggle —told them to give it a two-month trial.”
“So, it’s about sex? A two-month pause so they can shag other people? I’d never let another man fucking touch you,” Draco growled over the pulse point beneath his wife’s ear.
“Not everyone is as possessive as Draco Malfoy,”
“You’re Mrs. Malfoy for a reason, Red. It’s because you’re mine. ” He punctuated his words by sucking on her neck, his teeth biting the spot where his tongue had been. His hand moved between her thighs, finding her clit—already tender and slick.
“You’d never share me? Even with a woman?”
The question caught him off guard. A year ago, after one too many cocktails, he’d noticed the way Pansy’s hand lingered on the hem of his wife’s skirt, her nipples had pebbled under that thin lace bra after Pansy kissed her goodnight. He’d shagged Ginny into the floor afterward, her body so drenched that it was impossible not to wonder if some of that arousal had been for Parkinson.
The thought of the two of them—Ginny and Pansy—both gorgeous, both delicious in their own ways, had left him ungodly stiff. He’d had both women before, separately, but the idea of them taking turns on him, of indulging his filthiest fantasies still infected the corners of his mind. But another man? That would never fucking happen. He’d let himself be a hypocrite.
“You had lunch with Parkinson again today, didn’t you? Should I be jealous?”
Ginny wrapped her hand around his length. He was drooling in her palm, hot and ready for her. Her hips met his pelvis, her body spreading open to suction him up.
“Aah …no . .. just….. curious,” she managed through her gasps.
“Well,” he rasped, lifting her leg onto his shoulder to deepen the angle, fucking into her until the new position made her back bend. His thumb found her clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. “If you wanted another woman in this bed...” Her nails raked at his thighs that were trunked on either side of her waist. “ You’d be the one sharing me, love…… So, my sweet wife,” he grunted, “if you’re alright with sharing my cock....then I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“My doting husband.. .” she playingly mocked, her body tightening as she saturated him down to the trimmed blonde hairs at his base.
He’d give her whatever she wanted. Well, almost anything.
“What time will you be home tonight?” Ginny called, watching as Draco fixed his cufflinks in preparation for his meeting.
Draco had an office in Diagon Alley, but his wife had flat-out refused to live at the Manor. So, he’d bought a four-bedroom townhouse in Muggle London, as close to Diagon as he could find.
“I may be a tad later than usual,” Draco replied, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket. “Zabini loves to hear himself talk in these meetings.”
He leaned down and kissed Ginny before making his way to the door. It was Ginny’s off-season with the Harpies, so he assumed she’d spend her day with friends or in a scrimmage. She trained relentlessly, even in the off-season, and Draco certainly wasn’t complaining—she was in the best shape of her life. Not that it mattered to him. Ginny could look curvy, muscular, lean, or anything in between, and he’d want to impale her.
“Alright, have a good day,” she said with a grin that bordered on mischievous. He knew that twinkle in her eye all too well—it meant she was up to something. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he tried to read her, but she simply tossed her hair over her shoulder and sauntered back toward their bedroom. He shook his head, before stepping into the Floo.
Today had been draining. The deal hadn’t gone to plan, Zabini was far less charming than he thought, and it was nearly 8 PM. His steak at the restaurant had been overcooked, and they’d only had Muggle whiskey. All Draco craved now was to rip off his tie, down a dram of Ogden’s, and let his wife sit on his face until he lost consciousness.
He Apparated to the front door, noting the shine of the drawing room lights, and music drifting out a crack in the window. Then he heard the sound of women’s laughter, and Draco hated to admit that he hung his head. Ginny was entertaining, and he was in no mood for company. Perhaps he could sneak off to the shower and then hide in his study until whoever was over decided to leave.
He opened the door and shrugged off his coat, careful not to interrupt. But as soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the giggling stopped.
“Draco?”
“Yes, love. Have a friend over?” he hollered back, glancing down at the empty entryway. No extra shoes. Perhaps they’d arrived by Floo.
“Would you come into the drawing-room?” she called again, and he sighed.
If it was Parkinson, he wouldn’t feel as bad about saying a quick hello—long gone were the days of caring whether Pansy thought him rude. But if it was Lovegood or Granger, it was different. There was always that subtle undercurrent of guilt. Especially with Granger, who was going through her separation. The last two times she’d visited, Draco had done everything in his power to be extra friendly.
Kicking off his shoes and yanking off his tie, Draco hung his jacket by the door, rolling up his sleeves as he ran a hand through his hair. Rounding the corner of the French doors, he stopped dead in his tracks.
His wife and Granger were seated on the velvet settees—both clad in lingerie.
Ginny wore white lace, complete with garters and buckles, her nipples pink and peaked beneath the cups. Her smile was wide, beaming up at him as if she’d just scored a winning goal.
Granger, on the other hand, was in matching crimson. Draco traveled down her chest, taking in the brownish hue of her nipples, and the silky tan of her stomach. Her cheeks were bright red, and she sipped a glass of wine as if trying to mask her nerves.
Draco’s cock had grown solid, but his mind was very confused. What in Merlin’s name was going on? The exhaustion of the day suddenly evaporated.
Clearing his throat, he kept his composure— barely. “Can I speak with you for a moment?” He nodded toward his wife.
Ginny stood, her grin never failing as she swayed around the couch, her juicy round arse pulled taunt by the flimsy string of her lingerie.
“Excuse us, Hermione,” Ginny said cheerfully to her friend before placing a hand on Draco’s chest and pushing him back into the foyer. She closed the French doors behind them and cast a Muffliato.
“Why,” Draco began, “is Granger on our sofa with her tits and arse packaged as if begging me to wear her as a hat?”
“Because that’s exactly what she wants. Well, it’s exactly what we want,” Ginny smirked, her finger beading down his shirt's buttons.
“She’s our sister-in-law, or have you forgotten that? You don’t think this is a horrible idea? She’s married to your brother. Do you think the Weasel is out there double-penetrating Potter and Chang?” he shot back.
Was he painfully turned on? Absolutely. Granger was pretty—he wasn’t blind or stupid enough not to notice that. She had a fantastic rack, plump and jiggly, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about her swotty mouth back in school. But all of that had faded when he fell in love with Ginny.
Hermione was bound to him one way or another for life, and he’d made peace with that. But this? This was different. He couldn’t fuck his sister-in-law. His wife’s best friend. The woman he’d be sitting across from at Christmas dinner for the rest of his life. If he did—and if she came undone on his cock—it would likely be all he’d think about every time he saw her, forever.
“Revolting,” Ginny scoffed at his last remark. “I thought you said as long as I was alright with sharing you, you’d be alright with sharing…” Her fingers slipped into the waistband of his trousers, tracing a horizontal line.
His wife didn’t play fair. She squeezed her tits together as she did it, pouting her lips in that delectable way that made his resolve weaken with every second.
“Yes, well, I figured you meant Lovegood or a Patil, not our sister-in-law, ” Draco pressed again, trying to stay resistant.
“Luna is your cousin,” she pointed out.
“I’m quite sure somewhere down the line, you’re my cousin,” Draco shot back. “The pureblood lineage is quite tight.”
“You know what else is tight? Hermione’s cunt,” Ginny purred. “She keeps throbbing under her knickers, and I want you to teach me how to lick her.”
Draco’s jaw tightened as she stared up at him, her words striking him right where he was most vulnerable. She was making excellent points.
“I know she’s a squirter, ” Ginny continued, her voice sing-song as if it were the most natural conversation in the world. “I overheard Ron talking about it once to Neville. And I want my loving husband to make his sweet sister-in-law squirt all over him so I can suck it off. Can you do that for me, Mr. Malfoy? Can you let your wife lick another woman’s arousal off your cock?”
Gods, she was impossible to argue with. Draco’s mind kept conjuring vivid images of exactly what she described. Ginny’s mouth, Hermione’s wet, his cock in the middle of it all. Suddenly, the moral objections he’d clung to earlier didn’t seem nearly as compelling.
Draco reached down, squeezing the side of Ginny’s arse before grabbing the back of her neck and dragging her into a kiss. He forced her against the length labouring behind his trousers.
“You’ll be punished for this, Mrs. Malfoy,” he growled. “A thorough fucking spanking.”
Ginny’s hand slid down to stroke his shaft then gave it a squeeze.
“I can’t wait,”
He huffed, before turning to reopen the double doors. He strode into the living room without a word, summoning a glass and a bottle of Firewhiskey as he entered. Pouring himself a drink, he downed the burning liquid in one gulp, the booze settling in his chest as he moved to kneel in front of Hermione. She looked bewildered. It was the first time Draco had ever seen her speechless, and he relished the moment as her wide, nervous eyes searched his for meaning.
She sat with her legs drawn tightly to her chest, as though shielding herself, but Draco wasn’t having it. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for her left ankle, and gently tugged it back to the floor.
“You don’t have to... if you feel uncomfortable,” she stammered, her blush reddening. “It was a silly idea anyway—”
“Look at my wife, Granger,” Draco coaxed, bringing both Hermione’s legs to the floor. His palm settled on her knees caps, holding her in place as his eyes drank over her body. He was edging himself, biding his time for the exact moment when both women would be completely naked and pleading for his mercy.
Hermione hesitated, before glancing nervously at Ginny.
Ginny, with an ever-confident smile, crawled across the couch to settle beside her friend. Her fingers danced over Hermione’s shoulder as if to reassure her.
“He’s so good with his tongue,” She whispered close to her friend’s ear. “He told me he’d teach me.”
Draco watched the tops of her ears turn a tulip shade of pink, she was delightfully timid. He lowered himself further, placing a kiss on the inner cap of her right knee, his eyes flashed upward to gauge her reaction. His cock was pumping blood rapidly from his heart directly into his pants, as he kept kissing up her thigh, drawing closer to the scrap of lace separating his mouth from her clit.
He knew his wife’s scent intimately, but Hermione’s was different— tangier, less heady than Ginny’s. Draco paused when his lips reached the trim of her knickers, right where it nestled against her slit. He let his mouth hang there, his gums sucking on half cloth, half skin.
The gasp that escaped Hermione’s throat was pure eroticism.
Four brown eyes glazed down at him, drunk on lust. “How many times do you think you can cum for us, Granger?”
“As many times as you both want me to,” Hermione whispered. Her tongue darted sheepishly between her canines. He used his teeth to tug the fabric to the side, tearing it just enough to expose her. Ginny’s hand rested on Hermione’s thigh, and Draco pressed it there to hold the ruined knickers in place. His wife seemed to understand his unspoken request, her fingers steadying the garment as he dipped his head again. His tongue swept a torrid line through Hermione’s slit, tasting her for the first time, and he groaned at the sugared tartness.
“Are you watching, Red?” Draco swallowed as he sucked Hermione’s clit between his lips. At the same time, he slid his wedding finger and middle finger into her slit, curling them in and out.
Hermione’s head fell back against the cushion, her eyes squeezing shut as her hand gripped the collar of his shirt for dear life. She was trembling, her mouth opening and closing with sexy little whimpers. He glanced at Ginny, whose bottom lip was caught between her teeth as she observed her husband tongue and finger-fucking her best friend.
“Yes,” Ginny shook.
“Good girls,” Draco grunted between upward thrusts of his palms.
“Oh fuck… Gin …” Hermione gasped, her head rolling to the side as she sought her friend's comfort. Ginny ran a single nail down Hermione’s cheekbone before leaning in. Their lips met, tongues tangling and interlapping, their mouths moving against one another. They suckled at each other’s Cupid’s bow, as Draco continued his relentless assault.
He was happy his wife was enjoying herself. He’d give Ginny the world if she asked, though selfishly, this felt more like a treat for him. Of course, if things went awry, he could always play it off, claiming he’d thought it was a bad idea from the start. But the grip of Granger’s pussy around his hand was making that argument increasingly bloody difficult.
“Teach me, Draco,” Ginny rasped breathlessly, as she pulled away from Hermione. Granger still licking at Ginny’s swollen mouth.
He shifted, creating space for his wife to slip between his torso and Hermione’s spread legs. Just as Ginny settled into the spot, Draco leaned back to unbutton his shirt and toss it onto the rug across the room. He watched Ginny’s hands rove Granger’s thighs, allowing the two women a moment. Draco undid his belt, finally relieving some of the pressure that had been mounting. He leaned forward, and he pulled Ginny back against his bare abdomen, letting her melt against his skin as he guided her forward once more.
“Get to know her sounds, her smells—they’ll let you know how good of a job you’re doing,” Draco coached in her ear. She nodded, their heads side by side as Hermione fanned out to make room for them both.
Ginny ran an exploratory finger down Hermione’s slit before rolling her clit between the pads of her thumbs, which made Granger whimper.
“See?” Draco murmured. “That was a tease. It felt good, but she wants more.”
Ginny nodded again, absorbing his words, her movements becoming more confident. Draco turned his admiration up to Hermione.
“Was I right?”
“Yes…” She huffed.
“Good,” Draco encouraged. “Now place your mouth over her clit and suck in pulses. Make sure you arch and straighten your fingers as you move—your nails are a little long, so don’t curl them too much. You don’t want to hurt her.”
Her lips met Hermione’s cunt, and Draco couldn’t suppress the groan that rumbled from his throat. It was gravelly and he caught Hermione’s eyes as she watched him. Turned on by his reaction, her pupils were blown as his wife licked all over her nub.
Ginny tilted her head to the side, giving Draco a better view as she pursed her lips, sucking in beats. She alternated between licking and hollowing, mimicking the actions Draco so often devoted to her own body. She slipped one tentative digit inside Hermione’s heat, tensing for a moment. “More, Gin,” Hermione pleaded. “I can take more.”
He stirred at the sound of her begging. He liked that tone, the way it cracked. He’d ensure his cock would slip in and out of both women before long, leaving one empty and clenching as the other pleaded for him to fill her again.
But not yet. He needed to pace himself. He wanted them wet and writhing, teetering on the brink, reminded that only he could satisfy the larger, more solid ache they’d feel once their dainty fingers brought them right to the tipping point.
“Gods, Hermione, you’re so wet,” Ginny muffled as her tongue circled the spot where her three fingers now were.
Draco took that as his cue, leaning over Ginny and latching onto Hermione’s clit, sucking it until the taste of blood lay metallically on his tongue. Between the two of them—Granger started to buck, her hips lifting off the couch as her pleasure overtook her.
“Fucking Christ, Malfoys…”
Draco saw the hint of a smile that he knew intimately. The sound of both of them being referred to as Malfoys clearly pleased her, and he couldn’t deny it pleased him as well. As much as Ginny was a Weasley by birth, she was steeped in Malfoy to her core.
His focus shifted back to his wife. “You know what’s going to happen next?”
“She’s going to cum for us,” Ginny keened.
Draco dived back in to devour with Ginny joining him, their mouths and fingers working in unison, driving Hermione higher and higher. All she could manage was a chorus of “yes,” her octaves rising in pitch as their groans vibrated into her flesh. Her body reacted violently, her legs spasming as she erupted in a volatile, breathtaking orgasm if Draco had ever seen one. He’d shaken the brains out of Red before, left her incoherent, but this? This was watching a starburst.
He was adamant to see Hermione do it again. Next time, he’d have her from behind, his cock buried while she ate Ginny’s cunt. He could already picture the way her tight pussy would milk him, as his wife played with her nipples, biting her lips as a wild bush of curls shielded his view.
Draco pulled Ginny back, her face smeared and the brown of her irises wild, the triumph of the moment written all over her expression. Hermione, equally breathless, beamed down at them.
“Naked. Both of you. Now,” Draco commanded, standing to ease the ache in his calves from kneeling.
Ginny shuffled to undo the rest of his belt. Hermione slid onto the floor beside her, working to undo Ginny’s bra and garter. White lace fell away, followed by crimson.
Both women—bare and radiant—were now on their knees before him. Their tits practically rubbed together, while their wet, shining cunts hovered just above the floor. His wife was determined on his zipper, while Hermione tugged at the legs of his trousers, shimmying them to his socks. They were like nymphs, ethereal and working together with a one-minded rhythm.
His cock was released right at their noses. Draco nearly wavered at the obscene rate pre-cum dripped. He should have been ashamed, but any thought of that vanished the second Ginny clasped her palm around him. Her hand, unable to fully close around his width, was always a point of pride for him, and he grunted as she began to stroke him.
“Really, Malfoy? What man needs all this…” Hermione teased, her confidence seemingly returning between orgasms. Her hand joined just above Ginny’s, inspecting him with the curiosity of the swot he went to school with, as if he were an object to be examined in class.
“I’m almost worried about sharing… it’s life-changing,” Ginny answered for him before she swept her tongue over his head and then down the underside of his shaft. His hands sought out hair, gripping glossy strands of red, and fissures of unruly curls.
“Fuck, Red, that’s it—don’t get greedy now. Share with Granger,” Draco grunted as Ginny popped the girthy tip between her lips before releasing him, leaving him throbbing. Draco tightened his hold on Hermione’s hair, tugging her forward until she took him into her mouth. She started easing herself into it, her lips stretching over him as she unhinged her jaw, swallowing him down her throat.
It was a fantasy he’d long fought come true: two of Gryffindor’s pride and joy taking turns sucking his cock while they massaged each other’s tits. Gods, if his eighteen-year-old self could see him now, he’d never believe it. This was every Slytherin’s wet dream—or at least his, Blaise’s, and Theo’s. And some twisted, devious part of him almost wished the Weasel and Potter would walk in right this second, just to see their precious angels deep-throating him.
“Let’s see you take me to the back of your throat.”
Hermione paused halfway down his cock, choking as tears streaked her cheeks. She pulled off, gasping for air, turning to Ginny for assistance.
“It takes some getting used to,” Ginny soothed and took him back. Wet and warm—both of them so fucking wet and warm—his wife suctioned her cheeks, sinking him all the way to the back of her throat with a superior little gag. Draco’s head tipped back against the tense muscles of his shoulders, his eyes closing as he let the sensation fuel him.
“I seem to remember you taking me to this filthy spot in your mouth the first time we shagged, Red,” Draco said proudly. His wife had always been one of the only women who could fully choke on him.
“Let me try again,” Hermione said determinedly. How very like her to get competitive if she wasn’t perfect at something right away. Draco wasn’t about to complain about being the test subject, either. It also gave his ego a boost—she obviously wasn’t used to taking this type of cock, which meant her husband, ex, or whatever the hell he was, was less gifted. That thought alone would make the next time Draco had to share a forced pint with the bloke all the more smug.
“Breathe through your nose and relax your throat,” Ginny instructed, gathering Hermione’s hair into a makeshift ponytail. She nodded, a classic Gryffindor tenacity creased on her face as she sank toward his bollocks.
“Do as my wife says.”
“He likes that,” Ginny clicked. “You’re such a little slut. You’re thinking about how good my husband’s cock will feel stretching you open, aren’t you?”
Draco let his wife’s filth flow freely, as Ginny slid her hand between Granger’s spread thighs. A vibrating hum shot through his balls as her uvula trembled against him, and Ginny indulgently brought her fingers to her lips. “You’re getting wet all over again just from thinking about it.”
Hermione bobbed on his cock, her cheeks protruding with each pass as the fat of them stretched around him. Her watery eyes glistened, while Ginny pinched her nipples between her fingers. Drool bubbled from the corners of Hermione’s mouth, splatting down to her chest, and Ginny used it without thought, spreading the saliva over Hermione’s nipples, until they hardened further.
“Granger, sit on the sofa,” Draco growled. “Spread your legs so I can get a good look. You’re going to touch yourself while I fuck my wife. You’re going to watch how Red takes me.”
Draco glanced down at Ginny to make sure she was comfortable with his suggestion. Hermione released him with plump lips as she pulled away, not bothering to wipe her mouth. She obeyed, climbing to the sofa and opening her legs. Another fantasy unlocked—Granger, the ever-headstrong and stubborn know-it-all, listening to orders like a good girl.
Summoning the wingback chair, he sat down, manspreading with his cock burdened by the hefty load of him. Hermione's eyes were glued to the way it throbbed as her fingers began tracing an ‘M’ through her folds, her middle finger brushing through her clit. Ginny swung one leg over his left thigh, then the other over his right, her knees drawn up as she crouched. Her abs rolled, her back pressed against his chest. His hand, so familiar with this ritual, wrapped around himself, guiding the head of his cock to slap against her bundle before Ginny sat down. Her arse settled against his thighs, and Draco’s fixated on Hermione.
One hand groping his wife’s tits, the other lathered her arousal over her clit, showing Hermione exactly what he knew she was watching: the sight of Ginny stretched tight around him, pale pink pulled over alabaster white, the veins pulsing, the grith of him consuming her. Ginny’s petite frame seemed as though it might snap in half from how rough she took him. Hermione’s fingers faltered, and her jaw dropped.
“You like what you see, don’t you?” Draco rasped. “Rub your clit, Granger. Fuck your fingers while I get my wife off. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that needy pussy next.”
“Show her how you take care of me Draco,” Ginny simpered. Both of his hands slid to her waist as he began lifting her up and down, fucking her over him like she was his own personal fleshlight—one that bore the priceless diamond glittering on her finger, one he’d kill for. He moved her hard and fast, the sound of their bodies slapping occupying the space.
Ginny’s cries spurred Hermione on, her hand working her own cunt at the same frantic pace. Draco smirked, knowing Hermione was already picturing herself in Ginny’s place, split open, and claimed in the exact same way.
“I’m going to cum—yes, that’s it, fuck me just like that, make me cum all over you!” Ginny screamed. Hermione’s face twisted as another orgasm tore through her. Ginny’s walls always tightened to an impossible degree just before she shattered, and it usually dragged Draco over the edge with her. But this time, watching both women fall apart—one trembling and writhing, the other lost in her own pleasure—left Draco with a singular, primal urge: to cover both their tits in his spent.
“Cum for Daddy, Red. That’s it, cum for Daddy,” he kept thrusting up into Ginny. His biceps burned from the exertion of lifting her over him, but he couldn’t care. Hermione was panting, tits sparkling from spit and sweat, and patiently waiting for her turn. He needed to make Ginny climax, and he needed it to happen now.
“Dracoooo,” she cried. Draco closed his eyes, breathing through his nose to recenter himself. Feeling his wife’s orgasm was earth-shattering—an overwhelming wave that never failed to have him pumping life into her cervix.
He lifted Ginny off him, her body limp like jelly in his arms, and gently laid her beside Hermione on the settee. Granger instinctively spread her legs, already anticipating him. Ginny, still hazy from her climax, lazily brought a hand to her clit, her feet brushing near Hermione’s head. Draco dug his thumbs into Hermione’s calves, positioning her legs over his pecs and shoulders.
His cock, slick with Ginny, was poised at Hermione’s entrance. He knew the stretch would be intense—his wife was used to the tug of him, but Granger wasn’t. As he pressed the head in, her walls immediately clenched, she was a vacuum.
“Fucking hell,” he groaned. “You want what Ginny had? You want to make a mess all over your brother-in-law’s cock? Huh? Is that why you came here tonight—to ruin us both?” Without waiting for an answer, Draco thrust in, slamming his pelvis against her cushioned arse. Hermione’s body nearly lifted off the sofa in response.
“Ahhhh, ohhh, my gods,” she gasped. “I’ve never— fuck, Draco... Ginny. .. I’ve never been stretched like this.” Hermione stiffened as he stilled, letting her adjust to his size. He glanced over at Ginny, who couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of Hermione’s pussy swallowing him whole. The fact that Hermione had just used his real name—something she never did—made his ego inflate to unhealthy levels.
“You look so beautiful, Hermione,” Ginny murmured. “Look at you, open for him.” She grabbed her tits, kneading one as her other hand kept her cunt warm.
“Fuck, Red,” Draco groaned, looking toward his wife, who was glowing. “I wish you could feel this.”
“I told you he feels incredible, doesn’t he?” Ginny said, sitting upright now.
“I didn’t really believe it,” Hermione wheezed. “But fuck me, Malfoy...” Her words trailed off into a moan as Draco pulled out and slammed back in.
“You girls were talking about me?” Draco smirked, his pace quickening. His hips rucked forward and back, his cock plunging in and out of her. He watched as her swollen lips gripped him, feeding him deeper, milking him for all he was worth. Hermione’s face was wrinkled in concentration, her sun-kissed features flushed as the signs of her impending orgasm began to bloom.
“I brag about you often,” Ginny flared.
“Am I living up to expectations?” Draco questioned. His thumb found her clit, rubbing rigid circles that sent her stomach flexing and her breaths growing shallow.
“Yes, yes, yes—oh Merlin, yes!” Hermione shouted out.
“Squirt for me, Granger,” Draco rucked. “Squirt all over my cock so my wife can lick you up.”
He’d never been able to make his wife squirt, but Hermione was rolling through a haze of pleasure. Her walls were pulverizing his cock and the way her blood thrummed told him she was close. He pressed his signet ring and wedding ring together, dragging them back and forth over her swollen bundle of nerves until she was screaming.
“You can do it, Hermione. You can do it,” Ginny coached from the sidelines, completely entranced. The cool metal of his rings slipped into Hermione’s folds just as her release tore through her. A sudden spray burst from her, showering his abdomen and her mound, soaking them both as she screamed his name— “Draco! ”—loud enough for the neighbours to hear.
Hermione’s body convulsed with the force of her climax, and Draco couldn’t hold out any longer. Still thrusting into her, he grabbed his wife’s calf, pulling Ginny closer so the two women were side by side. The sight of them together, both writhing, sent him spiraling. He wanted to mark them.
“Salazar… bloody… fucking… Gin,” he groaned, shaky with the effort to cling on.
“Our tits,” Ginny added. “Paint both our tits.”
Draco pulled out just as the floodgates opened. His palm seized himself, jerking hard as his release hit. Ropes of cum shot out with little aim, streaking across nipples, tits, jaws, lips, and lashes. Every muscle tensed as he grunted through the potency of it.
“Fuck… fucking hell,” he panted, his hand braced on Hermione’s knee as he struggled to catch his breath. The three of them lay there, glistening with sweat, cum, and the remnants of Hermione’s squirt. Ginny rolled over and laved her tongue from Hermione’s cum-slicked breasts, down her belly, and to her mound. She licked up everything—Draco’s release and Granger’s mess—like it was a delicacy.
“Gorgeous,” he praised. “Both of you. Gorgeous.”
“I can clean you up,” Draco offered. As he leaned back to summon his wand, Ginny bit Hermione’s bottom lip between her teeth, stopping him.
“Why use magic when we have a very large shower in our bedroom? Definitely large enough for three…” Ginny pouted up at him. Once again who was he to argue with such sound logic?
“That sounds like a lovely idea, Gin,” Hermione chimed in, her face now mirroring Ginny’s. Draco was seeing stars, but he was young, full of stamina—and, judging by their eager looks, they wanted more. Lucky for them, he had more to give.
“Alright then,” he said. “This time, I’m cumming in one of you. And since Granger is our guest, it should be her.”
Without waiting for a reply, Draco reached down, tossing Ginny over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. She usually protested at being manhandled, but the scent of her renewed arousal running down her thighs told him she couldn’t resist. Hermione giggled, before darting up the stairs, her naked body a tempting blur. Draco followed, his free hand reaching out to smack her arse as she pranced ahead.
3 Months Later
“And tell me again why we’re going to your parents' for dinner?” Draco prodded. He really didn’t want to go tonight, but considering he hadn’t seen his in-laws in quite some time, he knew he had no ground to stand on.
“Because Ron and Hermione are back together, and Mum wants us all to come over and act like they never broke up,” Ginny replied, applying a glamour to the lovebite on her neck.
“So, we’re supposed to pretend we didn’t shag the daylights out of her, then?” Draco grinned.
“Draco, do not mention that.” Ginny hissed, giving him a stern look through the mirror.
It had been three months since that night—since he lost track of where his limbs ended and where his wife’s and Hermione’s began. Since their bodies melded together, their juices blended into a scent uniquely theirs. Since he came three times in less than four hours and lost count of how many times Ginny and Hermione had reached their peaks. He could still visualize them both bent over in the shower, pressed against the tiles as he alternated between them, their moans fogging the walls.
And then there was the moment they landed on their marital bed—Ginny riding Hermione’s face while he emptied himself inside her, Granger licking his wife’s clit as Draco was caught between her tongue and heat. The memories still haunted him in the best way, replaying vividly when he was alone.
He hadn’t seen Hermione since that morning when she bolted out of their house, leaving only the faintest scent of her perfume and pussy behind. Ginny, on the other hand, had mentioned a few coffee dates and lunches with her. Apparently, Hermione had felt a little shy about the whole thing but admitted she felt empowered by the experience.
Draco could only hope she’d been empowered enough to consider stopping by again sometime. But he’d never be the one to ask. That wasn’t his style.
So when he heard the news that Hermione and Weasley had mended fences, he found it shocking. To say the least.
The Burrow was bustling with noise and laughter as grandchildren sprouted up like gnomes in the garden. Ginny immediately gravitated toward George, Ron, and Hermione, while Draco, still an outsider, found himself in a conversation with Percy. His eyes occasionally found Hermione, only to catch her glancing back at him in the same stolen way.
At dinner, a few glasses of whatever whiskey Charlie had brought back from Romania had loosened Draco’s tongue. He asked the question that had been swirling in his head.
“So, you two—all good now?” he gestured toward Ron and Hermione. The table went quiet for a moment as Granger flushed, and Ginny’s nails dug into his thigh under the table.
“We just needed a little time to ourselves. To, you know… experience the world,” Hermione replied carefully, taking a slow sip of her wine. The way her mouth half-mooned around the glass burned through him in ways he wasn’t proud of.
“It feels renewed, in a way,” Ron brightened as he puffed up. “We’ve, uh… you know, gotten closer. Apparently, that Muggle therapist is worth the thousands of pounds we’re paying her.” He laughed awkwardly, pulling Hermione snugly against his side.
Draco caught the underlying message clearly—something about “renewal”. He couldn’t help but wonder if Hermione had been applying lessons learned from her encounter with him and Ginny into her bed with the Weasel.
“Yes, it was definitely the Muggle therapist to thank,” Hermione added with a sly wink to Ginny and then to Draco.
“If only Bill and Fleur were on the outs,” Ginny whispered, nodding toward where her oldest brother sat with his beautiful, part-Veela wife. Draco's stare lasted a moment too long on Fleur, eyeing her long white hair, silky flawless skin, creamy perky tits—
“Witch,” Draco muttered, turning back to his wife. “You’ll be the death of me—and of your brothers’ marriages.”
“Not the death. We’re just… invigorating things. Or whatever Ron called it.” Ginny nipped at his earlobe, making him smirk despite himself.
“Let’s try to keep the threesomes outside of the family, shall we?” Draco whispered low enough that no one else could hear.
Ginny’s eyes gleamed. “You said ‘try to keep it outside the family,’ which means you’re open to more?” she teased, her hand high on his thigh which made his pants feel uncomfortably compressed.
“You’re insatiable,”
“So, I can Owl Pansy, then?” Ginny continued, her tone far too innocent to be genuine. Draco opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. The idea simmered in his head, and he knew he couldn’t come up with a reason to say no.
“You could Owl her after dinner,” he said finally, leaning back in his chair. “She might even be there waiting when we get home.”