Fic: Differential Equations (Harry Potter, Katie/Alicia/Angelina, NC-17)
Title: Differential Equations
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Katie/Alicia/Angelina
Word count: 1262
Warnings: Threesome, masturbation, voyeurism (which makes it sound a lot more kinky than it really is)
Author's Notes: The title comes from the fact that I wrote a similarly-themed drabble once called Geometry and thought it would be fitting/cute/dorky to continue the math theme. My girlfriend tells me that DiffEQ is about the rates at which things change, long term behaviors of systems, or the modeling of real-life dynamic systems with mathematics. It sounded good to me.
My first entry at pornish_pixies

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Angelina Johnson doesn't make love. She doesn't have time, between Quidditch practices and planning for Quidditch practices and looking up different strategies and tactics to try at Quidditch practices – not to mention her N.E.W.T. Transfiguration and Potions and Charms classes, and keeping in touch with Oliver Wood – no, she doesn't have time. She likes Alicia's hands on her breasts, and Katie's mouth between her legs, Alicia's fingers thrust up so far inside her that she can't breathe, but she likes it fast. She squirms when Katie sucks the paper-dark skin at her neck and earlobe, cups the lower curves of her breasts, teases her nipples, right then left, between her teeth. Alicia licks her clit, nudges her nose amid the coarse little dark curls, presses two fingers against Angelina's cunt, and Angelina spreads her legs and shifts her hips so Alicia can push inside her, fingers between her walls, thumb on her clit. It's quick, but it feels good – she exhales and sighs, and then smiles as Alicia quickens her pace, a gentle rocking rhythm.

No, Angelina doesn't lie there thinking about kisses (the ones that Katie is filling her mouth with, long and light, hot and venomous) or the smell (as Alicia licks her she gets wetter and wetter, slick all the way down to the sheets) or orgasm (because she is, much too slow at first, then suddenly and physically, tipping her head back into the pillow as she grabs for Katie's hands and Alicia's hair). It's not romantic and she knows it, but she cleans herself up quickly and kisses Alicia, who tastes like salt and musk, and Katie, who tastes like grass and vanilla, and then heads back up to the seventh-year girls' dormitory. Sometimes, sitting cross-legged on her bed with Quidditch Through the Ages open on her knees for the 647th time, she wonders what they do, just the two of them, creamy skin and silky hair in Katie's bed. Sometimes she puts down her book and pushes her pajamas down just far enough to rub a finger against her swollen clit, against her come and Alicia's spit, because it only takes a minute.

Alicia Spinnet doesn't have sex. She's too embarrassed, and uncertain, and not ready – although maybe at this point, it's just that she's scared, because after all, she's been, um, you know, with Angelina and Katie for more than six months now, and if that's not, well, you know, then she doesn't know what is. But either way, she's nervous about letting Angelina kiss her (which she does, fully, her mouth is warm and hungry and brisk, like she's done this a hundred times before, like it's no big deal) and even more nervous about letting Katie touch her nipples (which she does, slowly, her fingers are slender and cool and make veryvery small circles along the rides of Alicia's, uhh, areola, where only her fingers have ever been before). And she's even more nervous about letting Katie kiss her way down the line of her body, the point exactly between her breasts, her ribs, her hips. Her thighs – Alicia shivers, because Katie's licking her mound, and now her labia, and oh, oh, now her clit, the little fold of her hood, the pink nub of flesh, she's slick and wet, making shy noises, and she's going to come, and she can't, she can't do this, and pushes Katie's head away.

She's not so bad about doing it. She's good at getting Angelina off, licking fast, rubbing her teeth and the insides of her lips against the folds and liquid. And she likes touching Katie, sucking her nipples as they grow a little more firm and taut between her lips. She's just not ready for it, not yet. But sometimes Katie and Angelina go down on each other, cunt to mouth and mouth to cunt, and they look so beautiful, with white and brown limbs all tangled together and tongues between legs and pubic hair against tongues that Alicia can't help it, she has to touch herself. Her fingers slide, easily, back and forth and around her clit, and she comes with a stifled gasp when Katie gets Angelina off first.

She wipes her hand on the sheets and watches as Angelina finishes with Katie, her lips shining and her cheeks curved into smiles, and knows that when she's ready she'll want Angelina's tongue between her legs, Katie's fingers rubbing her ridges, that feeling when Angelina sucks her clit. She imagines it, and shivers, shivers for such a long minute that sometimes she has to press her fingers against her clit again.

Katie Bell doesn't fuck. She doesn't like the word, how crude and short it sounds, and when Angelina says, in the common room over her last-year's Potions notes, with a teasing little quirk at the edge of her mouth, Katie blushes so hot she's sure her hair is turning crimson too. She likes it slow, and when Angelina moves the heels of her hands down her sides too fast, or when Alicia covers her nipples with her lips without squeezing and rubbing them a little bit first, she makes an impatient sound and wriggles her hips a little. Sometimes that just means that Alicia and Angelina share devilish smiles, and Alicia goes right on scraping her teeth over Katie's breasts, and Angelina plunges her hand right into where Katie's already wet and hot, but usually they stop, slow down. Katie's head tilts back and her mouth cracks open and her tongue tries to form words when Alicia nibbles at her hips and Angelina tongues her labia, but there are no words, just a gentle soft blue that turns redder and redder behind her closed eyes as her body tightens.

When they get started, they're good, achingly slow, and sometimes Katie regrets that she asked for it. She wants to scream, but she can't, because Alicia's kissing her, her eyes, her nose, the whorls of her ears, the corners of her mouth, a hundred tiny kisses that are turning her stomach into a knot of small silver cords. And oh, now Angelina is licking her, careful deliberate circles from the base of her slit to the tip of her clit and back around again, sometimes dipping occasionally into the hot dark pool of her wetness, but suddenly not fast enough, she wants, she needs it faster. A low, swallowing noise comes from her throat, forces itself out around one of Alicia's kisses, and then Angelina's tongue is moving quicker against her clit, and she's coming, breathing both their names until she thinks her stomach will explode from the warmth spreading through her.

They leave Katie's bed one by one – Angelina first, usually, since she's always got a stack of new books from the library on Modern Chaser Theory; and then Alicia, who sometimes stutters like she wants to say something about Katie's hand on her hip and toes pushed against Alicia's, but usually just leaves with a self-conscious kiss that she rubs from her lips as she slips through the curtains. Katie is left alone, punching the pillows back into shape and finding little curly pubic hairs and clear little bands from Angelina's braids below her back. She rolls over toward the head of her bed until her eyes flick closed. Sometimes she has too much to think about, Quidditch and classes and what she'll do after Hogwarts, and she falls asleep right away. And other times, even all that isn't enough, and so she lies back against the damp sheets and smiles as she remembers.

finis