Christmas at home
Ginny's glad they're going home for Christmas this year.
Which isn't to say that she doesn't like Hogwarts - it's great. She loves the huge Christmas feast, the friendly snowball fights with whomever happens to be hanging around outside, and making ornaments out of tinsel with Luna. But Christmas at Hogwarts also means that she'll hardly see the person she really wants to spend time with.
Christmas at Hogwarts means that Ron won't pay her a lick of attention.
But this year they're going to the Burrow, and Ginny's glad, for the first time, that Hermione's not coming with them. When Harry and Hermione are around, Ron hardly notices her. But she knows that when it's just the two of them, it'll be just like when they were younger again. For Ginny, the Burrow is about time with her favourite brother.
**
Two days have passed already, and nothing has come of it. Ginny's thinking about it, worrying that nothing will happen - that Ron will spend the entire holiday ignoring her in favour of Harry. After all, Ron has Lavender now; maybe he doesn't want his baby sister anymore.
But Ron doesn't let her down. He never has.
He doesn’t come until long after everyone else has gone to bed that night; she figures that he's been waiting for Harry to fall asleep. There's a soft knock, and Ginny slides out of bed, wearing only the t-shirt she's taken to sleeping in. She pads across the room, turning the knob and pulling the door open. Ron's fist is still raised and his mouth is open like he's preparing to say something, but he doesn't. Ginny watches his eyes dip down over the curves of her body and she smiles as his face changes colour, going red. The shirt used to be Bill's, and it's just long enough to cover her knickers but not long enough to be considered a dress, and Ron seems to be mesmerized by her thighs.
Ron doesn't really want Lavender at all.
"Uh. Is that all you're wearing now? Could at least put on some pyjama bottoms or something. Honestly, you're not even dressed!" He hisses as quietly as Ron can manage to do anything, which isn't very quiet at all. Ginny calmly slips her hand over his mouth and tugs on the front of his shirt with the other, pulling him into her room and toeing the door shut behind him.
Ginny isn't the sister of Fred and George for nothing, and she's never been very good about following the No Underage Magic rule, so she releases Ron and lifts her wand from the dresser, casting a few well-placed Imperturbable Charms. She certainly doesn't want to deal with Extendable Ears tonight.
Ron watches all of this in silence, and when she finally turns back to him, he gapes at her, his face changing colours again. "…didn't have to do that, you know. Not like there's any reason for it!"
He glances nervously around her room, shifting uncomfortably, and that's when Ginny notices the bulge in his pyjama bottoms.
"Oh?" She takes a step closer to him, just close enough to touch him, but she doesn't. "You're so loud, Ron. Honestly, there's not much to be done for it."
Ron makes an indignant face and turns his attention back to her, his gaze quickly dropping to the hem of her shirt as he tries to snort out a properly irritated (and quiet) response. "Oh, stuff it Gin, I'm not… any louder… than…"
His mind seems to have stopped working somewhere along the dip between her thighs and Ginny grins, stepping a bit closer to him and wrapping her arms around his neck in a sisterly hug. "Oh, Ron."
He's hot and stiff against her, his hard-on pressing against her thigh and not very well-obscured by his pyjamas. He makes a small sound against her ear, and it takes him a minute to return the hug, his hands fumbling awkwardly against her sides and accidentally brushing against the soft swell of her breast. Ginny squeaks, and apparently that's all Ron can take, 'cause now he's pushing her up against her bedroom door and finding her mouth for a warm, wet kiss.
Ginny loves the way Ron kisses. It's sloppy and firm and possessive. It's much more passionate than the way Michael kissed her and Dean's always too careful, like he's afraid he'll break her if he snogs her properly. She has been thinking about this for weeks, now. It seems like all Ginny can ever think about anymore is how different things are with Ron.
His lips are slipping, skimming over hers and he's making soft noises that she can feel as he rocks his hips up against her, his tented-pyjama bottoms jutting into the soft flesh of her thigh. It hurts a little, and Ginny shifts, tugging up her t-shirt slightly so that it's hitting her just there, his hard-on bumping, sliding up against her wet knickers and it's almost as good as him touching her. But it's easier this way, because this could still be accidental. This doesn't have to mean anything, not like when he touches her.
But his lips are on hers and that breaks it a little, breaks her a little.
He pulls away for air, ducking his head and pressing his chin against her neck so that hot puffs of his breath hit her skin as he continues to rock against her. They've done this to the breaking point before, until Ron has come in his trousers, wet and hot and sticky, and Ginny doesn't want that tonight, not here, not now.
Now she wants things like they were last summer, or like the Christmas Ron found out about Michael. She doesn't want accidental bumping and groping and snogging. She wants to feel Ron inside of her, to know that he wants her as much as she wants him. She wants to feel complete.
"Please," she murmurs. It's the kind of whisper that Michael wouldn't have heard, but Ron always hears everything she says, and his hips still as he straightens up against her, his mouth now at her ear.
She knows he always hates how her hair tickles his face when he does that, but something about feeling his breath, hot and erratic, against her ear always makes her squirm a little, so he'll do it anyway.
She can feel his fingers skating over her thigh, skirting up under where her shirt has slipped down and it makes her tingle. She bites down on her lip and closes her eyes because no, this shouldn't feel so good. But Merlin, the way his fingers feel, rough and hot and slick with sweat against the inside of her thigh as his breath hits her ear in short, hot puffs of sound.
"Please, Ron."
He makes a soft grunting noise against her ear and then she feels his fingers pressing tentatively against the wet satin of her knickers. Ron's breath hitches a little as his fingers slide over the slick material and Ginny squeaks again, squirming against his touch.
Ron laughs, slightly nervously, slightly in wonder, and Ginny tilts her head, pressing her cheek up against his as she slides her hand down to join his. Sometimes Ron needs encouragement.
"When did you get silky knickers, Gin?"
His voice is husky and there's a slight note of jealousy in it. She wonders who he thinks they're for.
"Wouldn't you like to know?"
His hand is hot and wet and she curls hers around it, slipping her fingers easily between his and guiding his touch.
"Oh god."
Ginny turns her head further, brushing her lips against his cheek, trying to find his mouth. It takes Ron a minute, a hesitation so brief that it might not have been noticed, and then he's kissing her again, wet and soft and desperate as she directs his fingers to the edge of her knickers.
He seems to be doing well now, his momentary hesitancy (Was it guilt? Worry? She doesn't want to know.) gone in the face of Ginny's need. Her fingers slip away from Ron's and she reaches forward tentatively, tugging on the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, causing Ron's hips to rocket forward in anticipation.
His skin is warm and damp to the touch as she slips her hand underneath the elastic of his pyjama bottoms, and he smells like clean laundry and boys. Ron isn't wearing any pants and Ginny giggles against his mouth as his fingers begin to sneak underneath her knickers.
Ron starts to grumble something at her that likely would have earned him a resolved pout under normal circumstances, but the grumbling stops as her fingertips brush against something hot and firm and thick. At the same time, she feels his fingers rub against her, slick and warm and wet. Ron shakes slightly, and his mouth is at her ear again, an awkward brush of his lips against her earlobe making her shiver.
She wraps her fingers around his cock almost without thought. It's so right, so natural, so instinctual that she can't think of anything else she'd rather be doing. Ron's fingers curl against her and she grips him harder, fingers tightening over his prick. He is nearly panting against her ear now as he slips a finger inside of her.
Ginny moans softly and shifts her hips forward, pressing herself firmly into Ron's touch, until his palm is cupping her, his finger wriggling slowly inside of her. Ginny slides her hand up, pressing her thumb firmly against the tip of his cock for just a moment and it comes away wet, and Ron jolts against her, slipping a second finger in to join the first and brushing his thumb roughly against her clit.
Ginny nearly shrieks and she doesn't think she can bear this progression anymore. She needs him, needs Ron inside of her, needs to get fucked into this door right now. She lets her hand slip away from his prick, brushing her wet thumb against his side as she grips his hip.
"Please, Ron."
Ron has never been able to say no to his baby sister.
He nods and tilts his head, brushing his lips against her in an awkward apology as his fingers slide out of her to tug his pyjama bottoms down, his cock smacking wetly up against his stomach before bobbing free.
His fingers shake against her slightly as he pushes up her shirt, and Ginny doesn't even take her knickers off this time, dropping her free hand between her legs to tug them aside. Ron pauses at this, but Ginny digs her fingers into his hip, pulling him forward. Now his cock is bumping wetly up against her and Ginny wants to scream, wants him to be rough with her just this once, wants him to take and not care, but he does care. Ron is never as careful with anything as he is with her.
He kisses her again, less awkward this time and more determinedly, running his tongue lightly over the soft swell of her bottom lip as he guides his cock up against her tight, wet, heat.
He's pushing into her in the next moment, slow and careful and purposeful and Ginny bites down hard on his lip to keep from making a noise, out of habit.
She's always doing that, always biting down on his lip or digging her nails into his back, but Ron, for once, doesn't complain. He told her once that he likes it when it's there later, but when Ginny asked him what he meant, he wouldn't say.
So she cradles him against her as she rocks her hips toward him, her hand tight on his hip and the satin of the knickers starting to dig into her fingers. Ron starts to move, fucking her in long, slow, careful thrusts, and they break the kiss to keep their nosesteethforeheads from bumping up against each other. His cock brushes against her fingers with every thrust, hot and slick and hard.
He rests his head against her forehead as one of his hands slides up under her shirt and it's almost enough to make her want to let go of his hip to touch his hair. This is it. This is all they've ever needed.
"Ron…"
She never has to finish her sentences.
His fingers are brushing over her breast now, searching for a familiar little nub that he likes to catch in his teeth sometimes, in gentle teasing. She arches against him and he sinks his cock deeper inside of her, thrusting with all he's worth as the door squeaks underneath their combined weight. Ginny worries that they might break it, but she can't think about that right now.
She feels his lips moving against the curve of her neck and she has to close her eyes. His fingers have found what they're looking for and they twist and pinch and Ginny squeaks with delight, squirming against him as Ron starts fucking her faster.
The satin's pulling hard against her fingers and she stretches her hand, brushing her finger against her clit as Ron slams into her, harder than usual. And then she's clenching around him and shaking against him and it's perfect and it fits and she has never been more at peace with the world than she is right this very second.
Ron groans as she climaxes, driving into her in short, hard thrusts. The door creaks behind her as they continue to rock against it, until she feels him lose it, feels the explosion within her before Ron's shaking and collapsing against her, his mouth warm and wet against her neck.
Ginny slips her fingers out of the tangle of her knickers and slides her hand up his back, holding him against her. She touches him gingerly with her fingertips and he mumbles an apology against her neck.
She hopes he isn't really sorry, because she will never apologise, not for this. Ginny has never loved anyone the way that she loves Ron, and she doesn't see how that could be something to apologise for.
The end