Home Page Amanuensis's
The characters and the situations within these fanfiction stories are
not my property. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner
Brothers, and others, and are used without permission. No profit is
being made from the use of these characters and situations; these
written-down imaginings are only presented in an internet forum for the
interest of and consumption by the like-minded individuals who enjoy
them and recognize them as unauthorized fanfiction only, and are not in
any way meant to be confused with the originals NOR presented as
authorized materials of these owners.
Harry wants to be in the middle.
For the Pornish Pixies Fantasy Fest request made by maeglinyedi
-- "SB/RL/HP: S/R are together, and Harry wants in and seduces them
both at different times. First-time. Chan/other kinks are a bonus." I
couldn't make it chan, for that would have been AU (didn't feel right)
or in the context of OotP, and that would have been too sad for me,
knowing the conclusion of that. But I hope you still like the
Thanks to betas fabularasa
You're going to let me in, thought Harry. You are.
Everyone--well, every sane person--had everything it was possible to
want--Voldemort dead, the wizarding world at peace, the Ministry under
...Sirius alive. It was all there, all of it.
Except what Harry wanted. Because Sirius alive wasn't enough. Sirius
alive was Remus's Sirius, and Remus having Sirius meant Harry didn't
have Remus, either.
Not in the way he wanted him. Wanted them.
They were going to let him in. They were.
Harry knew from Mrs. Black's screeches that Sirius had to be at it
again. In the front hall, he found him, cross-legged in front of his
mother's portrait with another matchbook, wordlessly flicking the lit
matches one by one at the portrait. None of the flames ever caught, but
Mrs. Black's screams rose in pitch with each little missile of a match.
Remus had come in from the other door and reached Sirius first.
"Don't," he said, setting his hands on Sirius's shoulders. "She's not
worth the attention."
"Yes, she is. Look at her flinch."
"Diseased spawn! No flesh of mine!"
"She's dead. You're alive. Let that be revenge enough; if you hold hate
like this, it's like poisoning yourself and hoping the other person
Sirius was still looking at the picture. He had another lit match
ready, but didn't throw it.
Harry stepped forward. "Besides, when you do burn this place to the
ground, wouldn't it be nice if it were planned, Sirius? Invite friends.
Drinks. Party hats."
Sirius's smile came slowly, but it came. He shook out the match. Remus
moved one of his hands to Harry's shoulder.
And for a moment, it was the three of them. It was.
It wouldn't be during a full moon, no, because Padfoot was always with
Moony on those nights, potion or no. Harry wouldn't get Sirius alone
But Remus had a Ministry job now, as Lycanthropic Liaison, and
overnight trips for a man in his position were infrequent but not
unheard of. And Harry had time, if not exactly patience. Nights of
little sleep, as Harry lurked some distance from their bedroom door,
Extendable Ear bringing him every sigh, every groan, every affectionate
laugh from that room...no, Harry wouldn't say he had patience.
He couldn't stop the eavesdropping, though. It had been that sentence
spoken by Sirius--not even a full sentence. The words he'd said, that
second night when Harry'd begun his guilty eavesdropping, the words
that had come in the long silence after their hushed but intense dual
climax: You think Harry. But said like this: You think
Harry...? And Harry's breath and heart had gone still as the dead,
wanting it to mean only one thing, and Remus not answering, and not
answering, and Harry not even aware when his breathing and heartbeat
had taken up their jobs again, only knowing that the silence finally
meant there had been no answer, and both men were asleep.
Sensible-minded Harry filled in the blank plainly: Knows about us.
Heard us. Would like to go on a picnic sometime. But Harry didn't
want to listen to Sensible-minded Harry. When had he ever?
Harry filled the blank with very unsensible words. It was what he
wanted, after all.
Which was why he tried to swallow his mouthful of cornflakes calmly on
the morning when Remus announced he was going to be overnighting in
Aberdeen in two days' time.
He knew Sirius wouldn't turn him away if he knocked and asked to come
in, but he didn't trust himself to be able to get from a position
perched on the side of the bed to actually in it, based on the skill of
his words alone. So he used one of Fred and George's Eye-Bright
Lozenges to make sure he did not fall asleep while waiting for Sirius
to go to bed, and a silencing charm on his footfalls and the door so
that nothing creaked as he went into Sirius's room.
Sirius, he saw, sprawled over all available sleeping space when alone,
but there was enough room at the edge of the bed for Harry to lift the
duvet and slide under. And settle there, facing Sirius.
The bedclothes were pulled up to Sirius's waist, so Harry was halfway
to knowing if he slept in the raw. (Sirius owned only one pair of
pyjamas, so he'd thought that a fair guess.) Harry had left his own in
his room, and the sheets smelling of both men against his bare skin
were enough to have him hard right then. He could come just like that,
and fall into contented sleep.
But he did not. He stared at Sirius, studying his face in sleep,
feeling the basest of intruders, and as if he was finally in his right
place in the world, both at the same time.
He had every intention of waking Sirius, he did, but then it happened
without any help from him: Sirius's arm slid out to touch his, and then
follow it along to his shoulder, cupping it with one unwaking
And then Sirius did wake.
He didn't start. But he did blink, did pull the hand away, did rumble
thickly, "Harry. Thought--Christ, Harry, thought you--"
"Don't have to be sorry. My fault, after all."
And then Sirius really did come awake, realization why the
misunderstanding wasn't his fault outlined on his face. Harry heard all
the Harry, what are yous starting to be formed in Sirius's
mouth, and before he could say them, because he could not bear to hear
them, Harry said, "I wanted to be here with you. I wouldn't have let
you go on thinking I was Remus. But I wanted to be here."
He couldn't be coy, couldn't tease. Sirius had to know he wasn't doing
this on some whim. Besides, he wouldn't know how. He'd never done more
than kiss, and each time, those kisses had been done to him.
"Are you--Christ, you don't even have clothes on."
"You don't either." Sirius's movements had shifted the bedclothes
enough for him to tell. "Was it really that bad, when you woke up and
saw that I wasn't Remus? Weren't you a little okay with it?" And,
knowing that he'd better not wait for an answer, Harry pushed his head
forward and took the first kiss he'd ever wanted to have from someone
And Sirius didn't pull away.
Didn't push him away. Harry waited five throat-closing heartbeats
before shifting his entire body so that his mouth, his face, could be
above Sirius's, afraid that Sirius would come to his senses any moment
and break away if he didn't do this. He touched Sirius's shoulder in
the way his own had been touched, and that was what got a groan out of
Sirius. Harry lifted his mouth away only long enough to kiss Sirius on
the throat, and to move his free hand to Sirius's waist. He needed to
touch him, needed his hands to communicate that what he wanted went far
beyond kissing, needed the kisses to tell him it wasn't just a moment
Another groan, and Sirius was pulling away. "What the fuck do you think
I'm made of, steel? Harry, I'm supposed to have your best interests at
heart, but if you think I'm able to push you out of this bed when you
come at me like that--"
It was like a chorus of angels. No this isn't right, no I
don't want you like this--Sirius was accusing him of being a tease.
"Don't want you to push me out." Harry ducked in and licked his neck,
while his other hand slid beneath the bedclothes. Sirius had all but
given him permission to do it, hadn't he? "I want this. Have for ages."
"Do you even know what you're doing?"
"What feels right." There, that was the fairest answer. Harry wouldn't
pretend to experience he didn't have, but that was no lie.
Whatever Sirius was going to say in response was cut off when Harry's
fingers wrapped around his cock. The gasp Sirius uttered was almost
better than the feel of that half-hard length immediately growing
harder still in his hand. Almost.
It was like touching his own and nothing like touching his own. Harry
stroked it from base to tip, slowly, knowing (hoping) that Sirius
wouldn't be able to tell him no after a move like that. Had Sirius been
giving him the protests that he expected--you're too young, you're my
godson--he wouldn't really have thought that tactic would have
conquered those reasons.
But now he was more than ready to try.
Sirius said, "Oh, fuck..." and Harry thought, I have him, I really do.
He was afraid to try to kiss Sirius again as he stroked his fingers up
and down the cock, and afraid not to, so he compromised and kissed his
shoulder as he worked him, his other hand joining in, reaching to
finger Sirius's balls because Harry liked that when he was tossing off,
didn't he? There'd been no one to ask about bloody technique, so he'd
use what he had.
"Am I doing this right?" he breathed, and realized that he was being
coy after all; he hadn't had to ask it, but he wanted Sirius to tell
him it was right, that it felt wonderful, or for him to say that it
wasn't quite, and correct his technique, so that there could be no
misunderstanding: Sirius liked what he was doing, and it was Harry, and
that was all right.
And when Sirius murmured, so close to his ear, "Harry. Fuck. Yes,"--a
great gulp between each of those words--Harry knew that all he needed
to do was to increase the pace, thumb and fingers caged about Sirius's
cock, a little trickle of wetness from the tip of the cock conveniently
there to slicken each stroke. With his other hand he gathered Sirius's
balls, trying not to do anything too firmly there, just holding and
lightly massaging. Wouldn't do to confuse the actions of his hands.
At about the moment when he was sure Sirius was close to coming,
anticipating it, and realizing how hard he himself was, wishing he had
a hand free to do something about that--that was the moment when Sirius
opened his eyes, did not come, pushed the bedclothes off of
Harry and cupped both Harry's balls and his cock in one hand, choking
"Don't stop," as he did. Harry wanted to say, "No, I won't..." but it
never left his throat, for Sirius's fingers did something so bloody
intricate and one-handed it robbed him of speech, as those fingers
pressed on his balls with exactly the right amount of contact and still
managed to slither up his cock in an achingly hard circle, and still
had something left over to press on that skin just behind his scrotum.
He moaned, completely overcome.
It was all he could do to obey Sirius's words, but somehow he did. He
was reduced to squeezing the bared head of the cock for a moment or
two--all he was capable of--but it was fine, better than fine; Sirius
hissed and kept doing those brilliant things to Harry with one hand,
and somehow he was doing it slowly enough that Harry knew Sirius'd be
coming first, which was exactly what he wanted, wanted to see Sirius's
face right at that moment and not miss it, and Sirius's cock trembled
in his hand and poured sticky white drops over it at the moment his
eyes opened wide and so did his mouth, and Harry's thought of I'm
doing that; I did this to him was so overwhelming he almost didn't
need the pressure of Sirius's hand to come.
He fell forward, on top of Sirius, as he did, and Sirius let his weight
bear the both of them from their half-sitting positions back to the
bed's surface. Harry was panting, and so was Sirius. He pressed another
kiss into Sirius's hair, and heard a sigh, and decided he didn't need
to look at Sirius's face to know what that sigh meant--he felt sure he
could trust it.
It was the sweetest and best feeling he'd had in years.
Finally he did raise his head.
"I'll go back to my own bed," he said quietly, careful not to sound
like he was pouting or fishing for a negative. "I don't want you to
have to worry."
He'd known Sirius would understand, and he did. "Harry, I'm...I don't
like hiding this from Remus." He pushed himself up on his elbows. "I
don't want him finding out by accident. That'd be worse."
Harry made himself nod. "If you think he should know, you can tell him.
But I won't let him find out, if you'd rather. And you won't either.
You're too careful." He leaned down and kissed Sirius again. "And I'm
not going to try to come between you. That would be wrong, and I love
you too much for that. I just wanted this."
Harry was glad that the phrase come between could be
interpreted in a number of ways. He'd hate to think he'd lied to
One down and one to go.
Unlike Remus, Sirius could not be counted on for overnight trips. He
had no employ at present--it wasn't as if he needed the money. And he
wasn't really brooding, except for his hating 12 Grimmauld Place but
still too indecisive about where to move. So none of them had pushed
him towards a job.
But what Sirius would do was to go out for long rambles during the day
as Padfoot, with Harry or Remus sometimes, but more often on his own,
just for the pleasure of it, or when he needed to be alone or to think.
Harry was counting on Sirius to need some alone time and thinking time
soon after Remus got back--the events of that night were sure to prompt
it. Whether that was the reason or not, Sirius did indeed announce he'd
be gone for most of the day, a few days after Remus had returned from
Aberdeen and was catching up on reports at home.
He still didn't want to play the tease. But he now had that much more
experience in understanding how what he said and did could be
interpreted. And he didn't mind using that advantage.
Padfoot hadn't been gone an hour when Harry walked up behind Remus,
where he was sitting at the study's desk--not quietly; it wasn't his
intention to startle him--and set his hands on Remus's shoulders.
Before the oddness of the gesture would register with Remus, Harry
leaned down and kissed Remus on the side of his face, just at his
There were a gratifying few moments of stock-stillness before Remus
said, "Harry, what on earth are you doing?"
"Thought it was obvious. Kissing you."
A few more of those moments of stillness, and then Remus breathed: "Oh,
It was not unlike the reaction Harry had expected, and before Remus
could do more than push back his chair and begin to say, "Don't you
think you--" he'd stepped between Remus's knees and seated himself upon
one of them, his hands on either side of Remus's neck.
"I've thought a lot," he said as Remus's protest died off, his eyes
widening even further. Harry leaned in and kissed him on the mouth this
time, a quick kiss. "A lot," he repeated.
He noticed that Remus did not have his hands at his sides, or gripping
the chair, or anything else that would have let him avoid touching
Harry; instead, Remus's hands had set themselves upon Harry's knees. No
caress, no grip, but in a way that barely steadied Harry in his perched
position. He hadn't expected Remus to fling him to the floor in hasty
horror, granted, but this was still a good sign.
There would be protests coming any moment, so, to forestall them--and
maybe even get by them altogether, Harry hoped--he gave Remus another
kiss, a longer one this time, and moved his hands from Remus's neck to
the buttons on his shirt. He had the first one undone before the kiss
was broken. It might have been more, but it was Remus who broke it,
pulling his head back--but only a little, nothing vehement. "God.
You've done this before, have you?"
His fingers immobile for the time it took him to find exactly the right
words, Harry said, "I've been waiting until I found someone who was
worth waiting for." Again, open to interpretation, and no lie. Harry
resumed his work on the buttons.
When he had the shirt open as far as Remus's chest, he pushed it apart
and set another kiss on Remus's sternum, fingers still occupied with
the remainder of the buttons. That was the moment when Remus's hand set
itself on Harry's hair--on, not in--and he murmured, "You can't mean
For a moment, Harry flashed on those three words he'd heard while
eavesdropping--You think Harry--and for the first time believed
that his take on their meaning had not been wishful thinking. It seemed
absurd that neither Sirius nor Remus's reaction to his clumsy seduction
had been Don't be silly, or You're much too young, or
even, simply, This isn't what I want. Which meant he did not
seem silly, or too young. Or unwanted.
"I do. For longer than I can say. Let me? Please?" He had his hand on
the waist of Remus's trousers at that moment, and he winced inwardly at
his awkward use of a question there--now, Remus only had to say no, and
he'd have no choice but to stop. Stupid.
But Remus did not say no, and Harry had the trouser placket undone and
his hand inside in moments more, and Remus's mouth was open but not to
say no. It was a shaky inhale, and a groan when the breath left him,
and Harry kissed him again even as his fingers curled around Remus's
cock within the confines of the clothing. The skin-warm temperature
turned blood-warm, and it grew fuller in his hand, prompting Harry to
shove the trousers down and free the swelling handful from of its
prison of cloth and buttons.
Harry wanted to say something sweet and admiring, something that would
keep denying Remus's earlier You can't mean this, but the words
all sounded pathetic to his ears, or fake, and so all he said was,
"Yes," as he stared at the cock, stroked it with both hands, watching
it grow thicker still under his fingers. Remus's breathing sounded like
he had a cheese grater in his throat, and Harry flashed on another
memory--the rush of knowing he was making this arousal happen to
another person. His right hand took as firm a grip as he dared, and he
Remus's head was against the chair back, his eyes half-slits. Harry
thought about crawling down off Remus's knee and using his mouth,
instead, but was afraid Remus might not allow it, and he'd never done
it before and might do a crap job at it, whereas he knew he could at
least do passably with this much.
He was doing better than passable, he hoped. Remus's hands on Harry's
knees had turned into a grip at last, and his hips were moving on the
chair--moving Harry in the same rhythm--and his breathing wasn't any
less raspy. Though it was Harry who murmured, "Oh, fuck, yes," watching
Remus's near-purple cock pulsing in his hand, foreskin rolled back and
the head bared, shining wet and causing Remus to jump every time the
lightest fingerbrush went over it.
Harry felt Remus's entire body tighten under him as his hips lifted,
legs shuddered, and his cock erupted at last, splattering not only over
Remus's trousers but Harry's shirt. Harry kept his hand moving,
slowing, until the last of Remus's erection was gone, and even then
didn't release his cock. It had been no less splendid than experiencing
it with Sirius, even without his own climax.
He waited until Remus's eyes were back in focus, and waited even then,
until Remus was looking at him and nowhere else.
"I won't tell Sirius," he said. "Love you too much to come between
you." He might as well stick with words that had worked well enough
before. And he gave Remus another kiss, before lifting himself off
He got only a step away when something caught his shirt. He
turned--Remus was on his feet, not even having bothered to pull up his
trousers, and drew Harry towards him by his shirttail--no, not towards
him, but towards the desk at his elbow. Harry's bum hit the edge of it,
and Remus pushed him onto it altogether.
"I may not be wise," Remus said, and it was nearly a growl, "but I'm
certainly not selfish." And it was his hand on Harry's trouser button,
and his zip, and Remus's other hand on the center of Harry's chest,
pressing him down to lie on the desk, and there was air on Harry's skin
and a hand pulling his cock free of his own trousers, and then it was
Remus sinking to his knees and mighty fuck Remus's fierce open mouth
had just drawn Harry's aching erection inside, and it was warm and
close and fuck there was Remus's tongue sliding its way up the
shaft, and Harry immediately was sorry he hadn't obeyed his instincts
and done this to Remus, because he didn't care if there were ways to
fuck it up; the risk was so fucking worth it.
Harry was aware that there were short little moans of Oh coming
from his throat over and over, and he knew he wasn't going to be saying
anything more coherent for a whole year, he was sure of it. Remus's
tongue slicked up and down the underside of his cock, and the ring of
his lips drew its way along it in the same manner, and then there was
the sucking, my god, the sucking, pulling through his cock, drawing a
line of delirious pleasure from the root of his balls all the way to
the tip, and Harry had no idea if Remus was trying to get him off as
fast as possible or if it was just that he was that ready, because he
was coming, coming, shooting his orgasm into Remus's mouth, and Remus
held onto him until he was no longer hard, just as he'd done, until
Harry thought he'd fused into the damn desk, he felt so done in and
incapable of moving.
Remus got him to his feet, and kissed his forehead, and then his lips,
and said, "Don't worry about it." Harry didn't ask him what he meant.
Remus, he knew, would most likely be confessing it to Sirius within the
Which meant he shouldn't wait.
He didn't even let them get to their bedroom that night.
Too risky to give them even a short time alone together. Confessions
and excuses might be flying within minutes.
Which was why he ducked out not long after their late,
uncharacteristically untalkative supper, and made them come looking for
him. He thought their bedroom would be one of the last places they'd
check, and they'd most likely arrive there together, after the
He was right.
Remus and Sirius stared at him, laid out on their bed naked like some
offering (he hoped), their expressions looking at turns baffled,
suspicious, and downright blushing.
Harry didn't think he was blushing.
He wanted to make the perfect speech, the one that would tell it all in
a few words and make it all work out exactly right. But he knew he
didn't have it in him, and that such a speech probably didn't exist.
So he reached out a hand to a space somewhere between the two of them,
and said, "It can work, can't it? We're nearly there."
The baffled parts of their expressions quickly evaporated.
It seemed an age before Sirius said, "Moony." He was still looking at
Remus didn't answer. Sirius went on: "I think we killed the wrong one
in the war." But there was amusement in it, even if his lips were set.
"I think you may be right."
"He wants into our bed. With both of us."
"Couldn't be more obvious, could it?"
"I think he doesn't know what he's getting into."
Sirius didn't let him finish. "So I think we should show him."
Remus definitely didn't try to finish, after that.
Sirius crossed the floor as though he'd shifted to Padfoot and had
found a prey animal in the center of the bed. Harry nearly shivered.
When Sirius reached the bed, he crouched, not on but next to it. "You
tricky little bastard."
"You can be angry if you want," said Harry. "I deserve it. But I don't
want you to stay angry."
"Oh, we're not angry," said Remus, coming forward, and his voice was
just a little too crisp to be affectionate. "We're just planning"--and
he was already unbuttoning his shirt--"on getting even, dear Harry."
And now Harry did shiver. And he liked it.
"Did you have him, Moony?"
"Only got to suck him off, if that's what you mean. You?"
Sirius's mouth twisted in something that was half-grin and half-growl.
"Fuck, I didn't even get that. I think we need to teach him proper
"After we show him what he's in for."
"Oh, yes. Get the lube."
And Harry found his shoulders in Sirius's grip, and then Sirius chucked
him under the chin like a boy and said, "Price you pay for being
clever, isn't it?"
"I'm glad," Harry breathed.
"Bet you are. Get on your hands and knees."
Harry scrambled to obey. Sirius was behind him, crooning, "Wants it
all, greedy slut, can't make up his mind and tells us it's because he
doesn't want to break us apart. Clever, clever little bastard. Get that
arse in the air, no, higher. That's a good little slut." Harry
had never been so hard in his life, kneeling there, Sirius staring at
his arse and calling him that.
Remus had come back to join Sirius. "You hard for him, Remus?" Sirius
said, taking the jar from him.
"As a rock." He'd shed the shirt and was slipping out of his trousers.
"Then I think you're going to do first honors. Ready to get fucked,
Harry? What you wanted, isn't it?"
"Yes. Oh, yes." Harry would never have dreamed it could be like
this--he'd imagined Sirius and Remus going slowly with him, reluctant
to give in to his demands, holding off. As simple as his plan had been,
as badly as it could have backfired, he'd never dreamed it would be
Harry sucked in his breath as the coldness of the lubricant hit the
crack of his arse, and then there were fingers pushing it into his
opening--whose he didn't know--forcing inside him until he could feel
the knuckles against his cleft. It was wonderful; it was too much; it
was ever so much better than when he'd done it to himself, and that was
because this time he couldn't control it and it was up to the two men
he loved best in the world to decide how much to give him.
He was that close to coming already.
The fingers withdrew. More lubricant was slathered along his crack, and
a hand came to the small of his back to steady him--steady him, not
Remus--and then Remus's cock was pushing inside him, and it was
impossible, it wasn't going to happen, and then he was locked together
with Remus as that cock pushed past something inside him just there
and his own cock was on the brink of release--
--and it was Sirius in front of him, Sirius kneeling, naked, and his
cock in his hand, pushing the head to Harry's lips. "No. You don't come
until you take care of this first. You want to learn, you're going to
learn it all. Tonight."
And Harry opened his mouth and sucked in the entire warm salty length
of it, licking, lapping at the underside in eager strokes, nothing like
in time with Remus's thrusts into his arse, but that didn't matter, he
had both of them inside of him at once, and it was everything he'd
wanted and more beyond, and he was going to come even without anyone
touching his cock, and though Sirius and Remus were making the most
amazing sounds he couldn't be sure that some of them weren't his, and
then he had the taste of Sirius's come in his mouth and Remus was
snarling like Moony and Harry's vision was black and fire-touched as he
came with them--
--and the withdrawals were trembling and slow and he ached to lose
them, and obviously so did Sirius and Remus because once done they
became a panting pile of flesh, having fallen upon each other there on
And it was the three of them. It was.
Harry wanted to ask if they could do that every night, but realized he
was in no position to be making requests just yet. Better to let Remus
and Sirius work out a bit more of their frustration at his trick.
Besides, he really couldn't think of a happier fate.
Home Page Amanuensis's