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Harry was tied to a chair. Blindfolded.
Next to her: Blaise Zabini. He was Harry’s partner at the DMLE and, now, one of his most trusted friends. She’d become close with the former Slytherin, as well, by association. She was always welcome to drinks with the Aurors, and Blaise was always quick to get her a drink and a seat if Harry was otherwise occupied.
She could objectively say that she’d always thought Blaise was knicker-dropping hot, even when they were students. That jawline, his full lips–almost always tilted into a crooked smirk–a physique that no DMLE robes could disguise. On one glorious occasion, Ginny had followed through on a dare by bouncing a Galleon off of both Harry and Blaise’s tight arses. Harry had flushed a deep pink at the attention, while his partner’s smirk remained ever fixed in place, though his eyes sparkled in amusement.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, low and smooth. One hand reached out to twirl a strand of her hair, its red vibrant against his dark skin.
Ginny checked her husband. He nodded, sensing her need for approval.
Returning her attention to Blaise, she caught the hand wrapped up in her hair. “We’re sure.”
His grin was quick, then gone like it had never been. “Take off your clothes and get your hands up.”
They ignored the sharp inhale from the corner. Ginny swiftly obeyed with a whispered spell, before situating herself into the middle of the bed. The mattress creaked as she extended her hands forward, wrists together.
“Good girl.”
Ginny wasn’t usually one for praise, but she appreciated it now. Even if Harry couldn’t see, he could certainly hear, smell, and, were they so inclined, feel. Taste. A quick glance showed him biting at his lip, strain already showing as he leaned forward.
“Look at me,” Blaise demanded. “Don’t look at him. Not unless I tell you.”
It was Ginny’s turn to smirk, and he huffed at the sight of it.
“I can already tell you’re going to be a brat.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” she said snarkily.
His hand snaked out, grabbing her by the throat. She gasped, unprepared for the suddenness of the move, but she wasn’t afraid. They’d spoken in detail beforehand–setting boundaries, listing kinks and hard limits. Throat grabbing? That was well within her “yes” category.
She admired the veins roping up his forearm, the bulge of his bicep as he squeezed just tightly enough for excitement to pool low in her belly. Blaise was slightly broader in shoulder than her husband, though they shared the prominent chests and washboard abs that were delightful side effects of their work. The smattering of hair across Blaise’s chest and trailing down from his belly button wasn’t as thick as Harry’s, but she liked the differences between them. She wanted to find more of them.
“I’m going to put that mouth of yours to better use, sweetheart,” he said, sliding the flat of his thumb across her lower lip. He slipped it in, pressing down on her tongue and pushing deep.
Ginny relaxed her throat, eyes watering, cunt leaking in anticipation. She hummed, inviting him to do his worst.
“Oh, you are just asking for it.” He looked gleeful as he pulled his thumb out, a long strand of spit stretching between them. He used that same hand to reach for his tie, which he tugged off and wrapped securely around her wrists, before yanking her forward until she faced his exposed, fully erect cock. “Suck.”
Despite the abruptness of his command, Blaise’s tone was soft. Harry’s reaction, however, was not.
He cursed, and she could hear him struggling now where he remained restrained. “Fuck, Gin, take off this blindfold and let me see–”
“Shut it, Potter,” Blaise snapped, all gentleness gone. “Don’t speak unless I say so.”
Ginny didn’t need to look to know her husband glared at them from behind his blindfold.
“Now,” Blaise said, returning the full weight of his attention to her, “do as I told you.”
She pursed her lips. His chuckle was dark.
“I see how it’s going to be.”
This time when he gripped her jaw, he did so with enough force to pry her mouth open. He gave her a warning look.
Ginny stuck her tongue out for good measure, knowing full well she’d pay for her cheekiness. This time she leaned forward willingly, eager for a taste. She took the time to appreciate the heft of him, the promising thickness. He kept himself neatly trimmed, curls ornamental to the true meal.
Blaise Zabini had a gorgeously fat cock, and Ginny was hungry.
He didn’t make a sound as she licked the full length of him, twirling playfully around the flared head. It wasn’t until she’d swallowed him down, wiry hair tickling her nose, that his fingers dug deeper into the hair along her scalp. She managed to smile around him, despite the stretch.
“You’re a lucky man, Potter.” He sounded breathless.
A whimper was his only response, Harry remembering to keep his silence unless instructed otherwise. The pathetic sound bolstered her efforts, prompting her to thoroughly work Blaise over, tongue swirling along the sensitive underside with each pass, earning her an appreciative groan.
Not good enough.
She redoubled her efforts, hollowing her cheeks and pushing him to the back of her throat deep enough to trigger her gag reflex. Sputtering and choking, she hung on as long as she could before pulling back. She did this again, and again, until she found herself hauled back by the nape of her neck, Blaise grunting as he clutched at the base of his cock with his free hand.
“You almost had me, naughty girl. Lucky for you, it takes more than a talented mouth like yours for me to lose control.”
He forced her head around. Harry’s chest heaved, red marks visible beneath the ropes holding him in place. Even as she continued to watch, he jerked against the restraints, what was almost a growl escaping in his frustration.
“Let’s see how long your husband can hold on.” At that, Blaise stepped back. He gestured toward the open floor. “On your knees. Take him out.”
She scrambled to do as she was told, which was difficult with both hands still bound. Harry trembled as she undid his belt, slowly unzipping his jeans. It was almost comical the way his cock sprang out the moment she pulled apart the seam of his boxer briefs. Familiar in its length, slightly longer and slimmer than Blaise’s, and fragrant with the cedar body soap they shared. She breathed in as she waited, mouth already watering.
“Suck until I tell you to stop. Potter, don’t come until I give the word.”
She had a feeling she knew where this was going–Blaise was one evil bastard. Ginny could make her husband come within mere minutes when required. She took to her task with determination, savouring the salty precome and the agonised sounds he made as he fought against the ropes.
She didn’t pause at the presence behind her, nor when cold hands hauled her hips up and her knees were kicked wide.
“My, my.” Her core clenched as an unmistakable pressure ran along the length of her. “Your wife is soaking, mate. How do you like that? The idea of your wife’s cunt drenched for your partner?” He hummed, continuing to slide against her without pressing forward. “Well?”
“Fuck you, Zabini,” Harry grated out, before gasping as Ginny pressed him as deep as she could and swallowed several times in succession.
“No, I’ll be the one doing the fucking.”
Without warning, he split her wide. There was no gradual preparation to ease the way; she was more than wet enough for him to bury himself to the root with a single, brutal thrust.
She instantly choked, and would have pulled back if not for the hand that landed on top of her head, forcing her to gag on Harry’s cock. She struggled under the pressure from both ends, tears running down her cheeks as she fought to breathe through her nose. Then, as suddenly as he’d entered her, Blaise pulled back in an agonising glide, dropping the hand holding her in place. She gasped for air, face collapsed on the cushion, spit-slick dick resting against her cheek. Blaise proceeded to drive into her, the force of his hips sliding her along the carpet, burning her knees. She didn’t care. A pulsing need built at the steady pressure, any discomfort from the stretch and depth of his invasion only adding to the fire.
“Ah!” she cried out as her head was yanked back once more.
“Did I say to stop?” he said darkly. “Make him cry.” He emphasised the demand with another jerk of her hair. It might have hurt, but he’d positioned his hand right at the base, minimising the pull.
She returned to her task, eyes flicking up.
Blaise groaned, then laughed. “Salazar, Potter. Your wife loves seeing you wrecked.”
Sweat coursed down her husband’s face, the messy hair she adored so much drenched and the skin of his face ruddy. He was leaking constantly now, balls drawing up tight to his body.
“I-I’m going to come. Zabini, I can’t–” he whined.
“Ginny, stop,” Blaise immediately barked.
Harry cried out in dismay as she did as she was told. His entire body shuddered, cock jerking in place, but satisfaction averted.
“Please, please, please, let me–” he babbled.
Ginny had heard him beg before, but never quite with this intensity. He struggled against his binds–the abrasions along his arms would require attention later. She pulled her face away, but blew out a teasing breath along the engorged head.
He sobbed, hips gyrating to get closer to her lips, and she giggled.
Smack!
She cried out from the sting, then moaned as Blaise’s hand massaged the same cheek, dulling the pain so that it bloomed outward. The squelch of his pumping cock sounded obscene alongside Harry’s pleas and her own staggered breathing.
Tension rose within her, dragging her higher and higher as Blaise’s speed increased, his rhythm stuttering.
“B-Blaise, I–”
His hand snaked around, fingers unerring as they pinched her clit. “Come.”
She broke, walls seizing around the impossible width of him, encouraging him to fall with her.
Senses overwhelmed, all she could focus on was the feeling of Blaise pulsing inside of her, his wetness filling her full, the hand pressing down at the small of her back, the other hand still circling between her legs and prolonging her orgasm, the salty musk of Harry’s cock along her cheek, and Blaise’s guttural moans intermingling with her husband’s whining pants.
She could have collapsed if not for the hands that hauled her up and tossed her onto the bed. Legs sprawled outward and bound wrists arching up and over her head, she continued to spiral from the force of her release. She barely heard the words that followed. It wasn’t until warm breath hit her overly-sensitive clit that she jerked sharply to attention.
Harry’s blindfold had been removed, his verdant green eyes burning–with lust, yes. Fury, too, and love. He glared even as the pink of his tongue emerged. She could see Blaise in her periphery, having taken the seat in the corner.
She tensed.
“My instructions from earlier haven’t changed; you aren’t to come until I give you permission. Now, eat me out of her.”
The night was still young.