RATING: R
PAIRING: Sirius/Remus/Harry
WORD COUNT: 218
Harry's watching them again.
They kiss like it's the only thing they'll ever need to do, like it's food and drink and oxygen all rolled into one. They tangle together in a knot of limbs and too-thin torsos and unkempt hair. But this is organised chaos. After so long touching each other, they know exactly what has to be done. They have their own rhythmn, and they pulse with it.
Harry tries to keep up with their elusive beat, but often it proves too much for him. There's always so much to see. Sirius's face is buried in Remus's neck and Remus's hand is clutching at Sirius's hair as Sirius's hand is working Remus's cock as Remus's leg is twining around Sirius's....
Such a wealth of touches; Harry has only two hands, and he can't hope to imitate them all. For a short while he tries, but soon he merely contents himself with stroking his own cock as he tries to take in as much as he possibly can.
And them Sirius rolls over to Harry's side of the bed, and lifts him bodily into the centre, and as two talented mouths and four talented hands go to work on him Harry rolls his eyes back in his head and wonders when, how he ever got this lucky.