Written for the 2012 Hermione_Smut fest on Livejournal.

Title: Proper Relationship Etiquette
Author: lyre_flowers on LJ / Anna Scathach on FFN
Prompt: 41
Summary: As Severus drew Hermione in for a heated kiss, it didn't matter any longer that they were as good as wed already and that his married best friend was touching her arse in an entirely unplatonic fashion. All that mattered was the heat, the looks, the sounds and the feelings. Lips meeting, over her shoulder. Shudders. Moans. Gripping hands, hair pulled, clothes torn away from bodies, hands on skin.
Pairing: Lucius/Hermione/Severus
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Threesome.
Disclaimer: The characters and the universe they live in belong to JKR, not to me.
Author's notes: Many thanks to my fabulous beta!


Proper Relationship Etiquette

It was maddening, utterly maddening.

Hermione Granger sighed. She was involved with a wonderful man. A man who certainly had a foul disposition and a sour temper, as well as a big nose and marginally greasy hair, but also shared her fondness for books, their rug and mind-blowing sex. And he was good at it, too.

She hummed. Very good at it, in fact.

His talented fingers on her clit, his tongue on her labia, his lips on hers. His hair hanging into his face with every thrust of his cock into her waiting body, trembling on the brink of release. And oh, the sweetness of the moans that signalled that he was coming, the sudden warmth pulsating inside her and then his sweaty, heavy body atop hers. Bliss.

Hermione's lover was simply amazing, and she loved him for it.

But it seemed it wasn't enough. It seemed she wasn't enough for him, and neither was he for her, judging by her recently rampantly raging hormones and strange desires.


It had all started with one overheard conversation, really.

"You know I love Narcissa," Lucius had murmured as he cupped Severus' jaw in his hand and held him in place, perfectly still.

"As I love Hermione," Severus had said.

"I am married," the other man had replied, as if that answered everything.

"I am in a very successful relationship," Severus had said.

"I am married," Lucius had insisted.

"To Narcissa, yes, I know that."

"Married." And with this final whispered word Lucius' lips had descended upon Severus'.

Their kiss had been a glorious sight to behold. Mouths pressing insistently, tongues licking, hands gripping at robes, shoulders, buttocks. It had been as awkward as hot.

From her hiding place, Hermione had squirmed and bit her lip as she watched. Her lover in the throes of passion was a powerful sight, but this wrestling for power, this raging and twisting lust unfurling between the men's kissing mouths was even worse.

Or better. She wasn't sure which.

She had cleared her throat, loudly, and stepped out of the curtains. And it had started.


Lucius' head whipped around faster than Severus'.

"What in Circe's name are you doing here?" he hissed.

"Watching," she replied calmly. "Please go on."

Severus smirked at her from behind his friend's shoulder. Winking at her, he grabbed Lucius' robes and pulled him into another open-mouthed kiss. With only a second's hesitation, the other man yielded to his firm, insisting lips, opening his mouth to let out a low groan.

Hermione smiled. She licked her lips.

'Come,' Severus motioned for her to join them in their embrace. To do so, however, felt strangely disconnected, almost as if she were violating sacred ground or floating above water. But then she rapidly floated across the river her mind presented to her, extending her hands in invitation. Both men gripped one, holding it tightly and drawing her in.

They drew her closer, closer and closer, until all she could feel was their heat and all she could hear were their ragged breaths and the rapid drumming inside her chest. She felt their hands on her skin: Lucius' searching, tentative, Severus' secure from experience, drawing little circles on the inside of her wrist.

As Severus drew her in for a heated kiss, it didn't matter any longer that they were as good as wed already and that his married best friend was touching her arse in an entirely unplatonic fashion. All that mattered was the heat, the looks, the sounds and the feelings.

Hands on her arse, large and splayed, kneading and pinching and rolling. Hands in her hair, on her shoulders, along her arms, down her breasts, pinching nipples, drawing gasps, stroking firmly where he knew she liked to be stroked. Lips on her neck, feasting on her as though she were a starving man's last supper, licking and nipping, almost languidly, then faster, harder, sucking and biting along her shoulder blade. Lips on hers, soft and pliant, hard and demanding, anything and everything, melting, licking, teasing, almost making her toes curl with pleasure. A body pressing into hers from behind, firm and muscular, angles and plains, and close where she wanted him, but not nearly close enough. Breath on her neck, hot and wet. A body pressing into hers from the front, lean and long, not nearly as muscular as the first, though strong as well, and his movements altogether satisfying in that undulating wonderful crescendo of hips against hips, thighs against thighs.

Lips meeting, over her shoulder. Shudders. Moans. Gripping hands, hair pulled, clothes torn away from bodies, hands on skin. Stroking, caressing, twisting, teasing, grazing fingernails over sensitive areas.

Bodies moving insistently, she between them, a mere plaything—but oh, it felt so good to lose control, to give herself over to their mercy in every sense of the word. Mercy as Severus' knuckles barely grazed her nipples, mercy as Lucius' hands slowly inched down her skirt, slowly, more slowly than she would have liked. Then, finally, his hands rested on the delicate lace on her bum. From his low hum, she could tell he appreciated her love for all things lacy, transparent and dark green.

Her suspicion was confirmed when Lucius pulled her against him. His arousal was evident, and she delighted in pressing into him firmly and slowly grinding against it.

Not one to be set aside for another, Severus had in the meantime begun kissing her again. He was wonderfully talented with that sharp tongue of his.

"He's good, isn't he?" Lucius whispered in her ear.

She couldn't do anything but nod, for Severus had decided to torment her further, slowly sliding his lips along her throat, down her neck, over her breasts—barely grazing, only just, her nipples, the way he knew she liked it—Lucius' lips on her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin—down her stomach, down down, altogether too slow but gloriously so. She whimpered, bucking her hips. The friction of Lucius' cock on her bum, and Severus' lips descending, now at the top of her thighs, licking circles, was almost too much.

As Lucius' slick fingers probed her arse, finally Severus was where she wanted him. That first lick was always more blissful than she could take—almost—and she shuddered. There was nothing tentative or unsure about the way Severus moved from that moment on, all grace and heat and friction. It was as if he feasted upon her, looking up from his kneeling position to see the look of intense pleasure upon her face as she neared orgasm.

And oh, it was wonderful, Lucius' finger sliding into her arse at the same time that Severus' tongue flicked over her clit one final time. And she shuddered, falling back against Lucius' broad chest, her eyes closing and her chest rising unsteadily with a breath of release.


Severus was simply amazing, and Hermione loved him for it.

But it seemed it wasn't enough. It seemed she wasn't enough for him, and neither was he for her, judging by her recently rampantly raging hormones and strange desires.

Hermione had only ever thought of Lucius as Severus' old friend, until that day when she had seen them kiss, and something had changed. They never talked about what things were, what they meant, what was going on.

Yet Hermione could not deny things were indeed going on. It was maddening. She was perfectly in love with Severus. To her friends, they were a lovely couple, despite his looks and her bookishness. They suited each other. Perfection.

Those days with Lucius, however, never ceased to remind her that love was a subjective term, and that love in its physical form was a distinct entity, impatiently knocking at the doors of one's brain. And if one wasn't careful, one ended up in one's lover's best friend's arms. And if one happened to be particularly unlucky, one's lover's best friend was married and his wife knew nothing about any repeated occurrences of being in said best friend's arms. Strong arms he had, as she had ascertained herself at least once a week for the past five months.

How could she, Hermione Granger, talented witch, who loved a talented wizard, want a married man this desperately?


Lucius was sliding into her, hot and firm. His movements were slow at first, but with each passing moment, they grew in force. Hermione reciprocated in kind, propping her feet up on the bed and pushing her hips up in time to meet his thrusts. The friction was glorious.

So were Severus' hands on her breasts, teasing and tickling the sensitive flesh. He tugged on her left nipple and she gasped, intensifying the movement of her hips in an attempt to get more friction. Her moan went unheard as Severus leaned down to kiss her softly on the mouth.

His tongue having swept over her lower lip one final time, he moved to kiss Lucius, that kiss more heated and forceful than the previous one had been. Lucius, in turn, grasped Hermione's shoulders to steady himself. Tongues, mouths, lips, meeting, licking, sliding. Heat, friction, movement. His cock sliding in and out, fast and forceful, even when their breaths became more laboured and Hermione's eyes closed in pleasure.

She was moaning loudly. Holding on to his blond hair, she pulled his head down, closer. One final stroke of Severus' fingers on her breast, one final stroke of Lucius' cock within her, and she shuddered, pulsing around him. She could have sworn galaxies exploded behind her closed eyes as she rode out her orgasm, almost languid in her enjoyment. She heard Severus' low, drawn-out sigh and felt Lucius stiffen above her, his cock buried deeply inside, no sound escaping his lips.

Thoughts of best friends, perfection and proper relationship etiquette were forgotten.