A/N: This chapter is completely and utterly inspired by the lovely blvnk-nsfw at Tumbler. My humble thanks to gryffindormischief for part I. Let me also give a huge beta thanks to Writergirl8 for the pinch hit beta on this work. That was a hilarious discussion while she poured a liter of tea and a kilo of salt over some of it.
Suffice to say, this chapter is Rated M+ / E / NC-21.
Yes, I went there in this fic.
This is not ace safe- at all. It's almost PWP but it has a plot. This is thousands of acres of Tropicana Orange Groves. – DG
Ginny tossed the last shot of Firewhiskey and belched. The gaggle of Harpies around her laughed during their post-match celebration at the Cerrig Symudol Caergybi. Abigail Moss of course got the entire night's worth of rounds gratis for catching the snitch, but Ginny received all but 1 of her rounds free too, for scoring 17 goals in the match. No one in the pub bothered to notice that junior Auror Yurik Kuznetsov was on duty, watching to make sure that no one tried to harm Ginny or the rest of the team. Anytime anyone bothered to ask, he'd give a scowl and mutter, "Auror Potter's orders."
Gwenog came up and put a hand on her Ginny's shoulder, smelling of ale. So many rounds were purchased, either by the fans attending the post-match celebrations or by the players themselves. It was one of the few times that the players could let their hair down, proverbially, and participate in good PR that the ownership insisted on with the team.
"I dunno what happened to you, Weasley, but I'll be arsed if you didn't put on a world-class performance today. I've never seen you fly that spectacularly, ever."
Ginny picked up another shot of Firewhiskey from the bar to keep from admitting that Harry withheld sexual pleasures from her for the last two weeks. If Gwenog knew she'd probably insist upon it for every match and she couldn't function if she was chronically bereft. "Well, the scouts were in the audience, so you told me, so I had to do my best." Ginny ran her hand through her hair in imitation of her siblings. "It's always been a dream of mine to make the national team. I wasn't going to throw my only chance away. I knew I could do it, stepping up and flying flawlessly."
"But damn, what you did went beyond showing off. You made the whole match your own bloody highlight reel. If Abby hadn't caught the snitch, you might have made a record. 30 goals wasn't out of the realm of possibility if the match had gone six hours." Gwenog necked her ale.
"I had to make the best impression possible. Today might have been my only chance before the tryouts."
"Best Impression? Best Impression? Weasley, what you did out there today went beyond best impression. That was one hell of a performance for making the national team. Hell, you might even make starting third chaser if you can repeat today's performance at tryouts."
Ginny pulled a face to her captain. "Quit twisting my bits, Gwenog." Ginny picked another shot and downed it. "You're full of it." Ginny looked at the bartender and held up her hand for one more shot. She'd taken the potion while in the locker room to keep her from being completely pissed by the time she got home. She'd take another before going into the Floo for home. Fortunately her inebriation only made her more randy for her husband, unlike how it affected men.
"No smoke, Weasley. What you did today hasn't been done in decades, not since I was a kid. The last Chaser who scored 17 in a Quidditch match was an epic 8 hour marathon match in 1972. Three chasers scored 17 each. You pulled it off in about 3 hours, by yourself. Puddlemere and Exmoor went through five chasers because of injuries during that match and the final score of it was 540 – 500. I fell in love with Quidditch because of that match and made me want to play it professionally.
Ginny blushed. She reached for her shot and Gwenog put her hand over the top of hers, stilling Ginny's hand. "The scouts today were a redundancy. I already sent your name to the National team and told them they'd be completely mental if they didn't put you on the team, even in a reserve role." Gwenog took the shot from the bar and downed it. "It's a benefit from having played on the previous team." Gwenog turned over her wrist and showed her own magical tattoo – a white and gold bludger circling her wrist. "All of us on the 1994 team had them inked for the position we played."
Ginny stood there, gobsmacked.
"I dunno what to say."
"Maybe 'Thanks Gwenog for thinking so highly of me.'" She laughed again. "We'll talk at practice Monday. I know you rather get out of here."
"Am I that obvious?" Ginny turned and saw the third shot by her hand. Padraig, the barkeep, smiled and motioned for her to drink up. He ran it on the up and up.
"It's obvious only to your teammates. You've checked your watch three times since you got here and looked at the door to the Floo four. You're contractually obligated to be here thirty minutes before you can escape. I know you have more celebrating to do at home with that husband of yours."
"Damn. I thought I was more discrete."
"You're not the only one who wants to get home to someone for a bit of fun under the covers." Gwenog took the shot proffered to her and downed it. She smirked at Ginny before licking her lips. "Go on. I'll cover for you if anyone asks."
Ginny picked up her ruck at her feet and stopped when Gwenog put her hand on her shoulder. "I know I gave you hell when you first got here, on account of whom you were dating and your status in our world, but you've earned it. Practice Monday morning at 6. And tell Potter that whatever he did to help you prepare for this match that he needs to keep it up."
Ginny groaned to herself. "Thanks," she replied, before hoisting her bag over shoulder and making for the back fireplace. She pulled a small vial of swirling pink potion and downed it, feeling the effects of the alcohol evaporating. Ginny also pulled her gloves from her satchel and put them on. Harry had admitted a while back that watching her take her Italian calfskin Quidditch gloves off was an instant turn-on. After going without her husband's very pleasant company the last fortnight, she didn't even want to make it to their bedroom. Those green gloves would be the only thing left on if she had her way very, very shortly. 'I don't want another two weeks without fucking my husband. Hell no!' she thought before dropping a galleon into the tin and getting a handful of powder. She stepped into the oversized fireplace – kept open for travel to and from all points in England – and took off for home.
She landed, after a ride that felt entirely too long, at their home in London, skin covered in ashes and elbow sore from not tucking it tight enough on the trip from Holyhead. Or maybe that was from the repeated bumping she received up on her broom during the match. Either way, it was sore enough to be noticed.
A quick motion with her wand tidied up all of the ashes from the fireplace and on her uniform robes. "Harry," She yelled and not a moment later Harry stepped through the parlour doors of their home.
"You called." He looked her up and down in obvious appreciation. "You scored 17 goals. That's quite a feat."
"You came? You were at the match and didn't tell me?"
"'Course I did and no I didn't. When the owner saw me in the queue for a beer he insisted I come up to the owner's box with the scouts from the English National Team. They were duly impressed and it took some effort for them to quit prattling on about me and start on about you."
Ginny dropped her satchel near the couch and took three steps towards him. "And?"
He smirked. "I believe the words, 'crackin' good Chaser' came up repeatedly along with 'Blimey' often and a few rounds of 'oh no she didn't pull that off? 'were uttered. I believe there was even one 'How did she do that?'" Harry pulled a face. "I admit that last one looked rather painful. But that was one hell of a move. I don't think I've ever seen that happen."
"The coaching staff drew it up two weeks ago. We've been practicing it since then and today was the first time I pulled it off. Every other time I cocked it up, either by overflying the rings or missing the ring entirely."
"Well it looked bloody amazing from where I was sitting." He pulled her in for a heated snog and let go, watching her stand there in front of him, eyes closed and slowly smiling. "Now I have dinner cooking. Go put your feet up while I draw you a bath. I'm positive you're exhausted from the match."
"I scored 170 points today. I should be exhausted but I'm only turned on right now." Ginny turned and watched so many expressions cross Harry's face within seconds.
"I suppose you need my help." She smiled. He gulped once before turning and pointing his wand at the kitchen. A loud bang and crash erupted from the kitchen before he turned around.
"Please tell me that you didn't blow up the kitchen. Kreacher will have a stroke if you did."
"Hardly. Just a lid and warming charm on the now turned off stovetop. I can't burn the house down while tending to my wife's needs, now can I? And he has the rest of the weekend off."
Ginny winked. "How thoughtful," She pulled a face and started walking up the stairs to their bedroom on the first floor, dropping her Harpies overcoat and a green woolen cap on the stairs. "Coming, Potter?" She wiggled her green covered fingers at him, taunting him deliciously.
Harry gripped his wand tight and spun on the spot, landing in front of his wife at the top of the stairs. "I believe we both will, eventually." He pulled off his shirt in front of his wife, watching her eyes go wide at seeing his lithe body in front of her. She reciprocated, her eyes smoldering with barely restrained lust, by yanking her softshell Harpies jacket off along with jersey and green vest, leaving her in a plain white sports bra. She stood on the step below, gauging his reaction.
"Well? You're not done yet, are you?" He relaxed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Please, continue. I want to see more."
Ginny bent down to pull down the zips on her flying boots before stepping out of them awkwardly. "You know it would be considerably easier if you'd help me."
"No thanks. I'm enjoying this show."
Ginny curled her lip and continued removing articles of clothing, leaving her green leather gloves on as well as her bra, knickers, and gold with green riding socks. She stood up tall, almost past Harry's waist for being one step down, and scowled. "Finish it, Harry," The words dripped like warm fudge, "because I am certainly not giving you a blow job standing in the stairwell wearing my socks."
He pointed his wand and silently spelled away the rest of her clothes, including her leather gloves, leaving her in her skin. Her scent wafted through the air, a heady mix of lavender soap, sweat, leather oil, broom oil, and Ginny. She was his amortentia and had been for years. "Better?" He stepped back and she ascended the last step.
Ginny waggled her eyebrows. "Not yet," she stepped in even closer, pressing him back into the wallpaper of the landing. She rubbed her naked body up and down once and he groaned. "In fact, we're just getting started." She reached up and dragged her short nails down his chest, across his nipples, and to his toned abs. "You know I need more," Ginny purred. "The Firebolt between my legs today wasn't my favorite."
Harry spun her around, pressing her arse into the wall. "Oh I know what you need." He kissed her deeply, letting his lips betray his enthusiasm. He broke the kiss and saw her eyes growing darker. "And we'll be at it a while, I reckon. It's been a very long fortnight for me, too." He pressed her harder into the wall behind her, snogging her breathless before sliding his lips from hers to her ear and nipping it slightly. He shoved his knee between her legs and she ground down on his thigh. "You've told me," he nipped again before giving a breathy kiss in her ear then down onto her neck, biting a little harder, "that if you can walk after a match and an hour's fuck we're shagging again. I hope your bits aren't too sore from four hours of flying."
"They might need some of your special attention, Harry." She snarled.
"Is that so?" He bent down and picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder before carrying her into their bedroom. Without anyone else in the residence, he didn't bother to close the door. Instead, he sat her down on the edge of the bed, waiting. He rubbed the front of his pants to take the edge off.
"Quit dawdling Harry," Ginny moved up onto her knees. Harry licked his lips seeing his wife like this: completely randy and gagging for him.
Harry stepped over to the bedside table and took off his glasses. He reached for the elastic holding his hair in a small bun and felt Ginny reaching for his hand. "Leave it," she whispered.
"Your ride, love," he replied before laying down on the bed and scooting down even further, where his feet were hanging off the edge of their bed. Harry hadn't even gotten sorted and comfortable before he felt a pressure along the bottom of his ribcage. Intense warmth billowed out across his chest and stomach before it moved up his chest to his shoulders.
Her scent, musky and pungent and entirely enticing covered his face. Merlin how he missed this! Two weeks had been torture, no matter how much she complained too. Having her like this, gagging for him and ready for whatever he wanted to do to her made it mostly worthwhile. He reached up and grabbed two handfuls of ass and pulled her waiting warmth down to his face. He delved her with his lips and tongue while appreciating his wife's body.
"That's right, suck my clit, bitch."
Harry smacked her arse once before taking a huge lungful of breath. He pressed her sodden folds to his nose and lips to lick and suck and finger until she fell apart under his ministration. Without his glasses he went strictly by feeling, gauging her rising levels by how much she cursed above him or how hard she pulled the hair on his head.
He budged his nose into her clit and felt her writhe above him. One small yet impossibly strong hand reached through his messy hair and gripped it, pulling his head up slightly from the bedclothes to her wanton body. She was boiling, not that he minded, and while his bits were complaining vociferously, he could hold on, at least until she could get the first two orgasms out of the way. He flattened his tongue and licked, earning another set of pungent curses from his wife.
He kept licking while taking one hand off of her arse and bringing it into the gap between her thighs. She never complained when he diddled her but teasing her clit wasn't enough tonight. He'd watched her fly marvelously earlier while impressing everyone in the owner's box – especially him. He could talk the match until she passed out but instead, she'd appreciate his actions to her willing body.
He pressed two fingers up into her, finding the front wall of her pussy and stroked the underside of the bundle of nerves he was currently licking like a ten quid ice lolly. Harry learned with Ginny about this particular part of her kink, that she loved getting off this way, with him fingering her while sucking her bits. The first few times were rubbish, considering he hadn't quite gotten the hang of rummaging around her bits until she sat him down and taught him what she wanted and needed from him.
18 year old Harry was an utter idiot. Married Harry knew how to please his wife.
He opened his myopic eyes and saw her looking down at him. He could imagine that her eyes were unfocused and her mouth slack. He could imagine that her freckles on her face stood out along with the subtle tan lines around her eyes, courtesy of her flying glasses. But the one hand tangled in his hair while the other supported herself over him was too much.
Harry pressed two fingers onto the sheath of nerves while sucking hard on her clit. She rewarded him with an incredibly loud moan, a few coarse words, and bathing his face with her essence.
Ginny collapsed from his head, panting like she had run the steps at Holyhead stadium. "Merlin," Ginny panted, "I never tire of that." Ginny threw an arm up over her head, like she was shielding her eyes, and he couldn't help but smile at the glint of gold reflecting off of the thin gold band she never took off. She might not fly with her engagement ring on – his mother's, which he gave to Ginny – but this one stayed on for good.
Harry took the opportunity to remove his sleep trousers and pants. A couple of strokes of his impatiently complaining cock took the edge off yet again. He wasn't the walking cock he was a couple of years ago. Fortunately Ginny had an insatiable appetite for him. There wasn't a time when they weren't fucking or shagging or making love – except this time when he wanted her wound up, irritated and angry at everything because she hadn't had a leg over in a fortnight. Her performance today on the pitch was worth two weeks bereavement.
"Why aren't you naked yet?"
He didn't need his glasses to see his wife sprawled out so wantonly on their bed. He'd seen it countless times; the cause of so much pleasure and joy in his life which he received after Voldemort blasted himself into oblivion. There wasn't a day that he didn't appreciate her – her passion, her fire, her stamina, her resourcefulness, and her ability to not put up with his shit.
"Hey asshole, want to quit wanking and get over here and fuck me?"
Harry chuckled. "Is that all I'm good for, a walking sex toy for you?" He adored when his fiery headed wife spoke bluntly about what she wanted. With Ginny there were no games, unless it was Quidditch, no dancing around issues - just raw honesty and witty banter. But then he also had no qualms doing as she asked, in a sometimes feeble attempt to make her happy.
He crawled over the front edge of their bed and up over her legs, dropping kisses in random spots on her legs, from the dimple on the edge of her left knee to the Orion constellation on her right thigh, and a small bite on her left thigh two inches from her damp, curly hair.
"Wanker," she growled again as he continued languidly up her body, only stopping when he was hovering over her. This close to her was intoxicating, like drinking half a bottle of Firewhiskey . It was blissful oblivion, better than any bottled Firewhiskey.
She loved him as much, if not more, than he loved her. How'd he get so damn fortunate? It couldn't be –
"Lost in thought up there, love? Need a compass on your broom to find your way home?" Ginny opened her eyes and at this close, he could see the mirth dancing across her features. Harry budged up on his left arm, gently brushing his hand against her erect nipples.
"I was thinking."
She closed her eyes instead and positioned her feet on the bed, spreading her knees wide. It was a private benefit of her Quidditch training. She needed thighs that were flexible but also powerful. Sitting on a broom for hours with simple cushioning charms wasn't quite enough without the leg strength to direct a broom going one hundred. "The word fuck better be in there," Ginny opened her eyes and he nudged her nose with his own.
"I love you," he said simply. Sure, it took him a long while to realize what he felt so deeply was love for the witch below him. But she was patient for him, waiting months to hear him say those words, not realizing his actions, when he got his head back on reasonably straight and pulled his thumb out, expressed his love in so many ways. They had their bumps and problems between that day and today but somehow they weathered them all, growing closer in the process.
"I love you too. Now shut it and fuck me." Her smile turned into a snarl.
Harry's cock thumped right at her entrance, watching her lips curl into a harder snarl while he teased her for seconds more. She grabbed his arse with both hands, trying to pull him into her body. He held still for moments more, tormenting her. Deep down, she loved him taking control, even if she'd never admit it to anyone else. Teasing her as foreplay was one of his favorite things. But anything involving his wife was a favorite thing.
Harry winked and did as she asked, thrusting into her in one motion. Merlin, her warmth was home to him. No matter how many times he made love to his wife, her crass words spurred him on. For some reason, her passionate verbiage was his kink. Then again, it was Ginny and she was sunlight and warmth in one very dynamic package. Everything about her was what he craved and desired. Whether it was her tits in his hands, oh so responsive to his calloused touch, to her arse that he loved to bite, and not counting her legs, which weren't that long but were so powerful – enough that she could lift him if she planted her feet properly.
"Still randy, I reckon," he pressed her into the bedclothes while thrusting with additional leverage with his toes. "I have tomorrow off too so we can have another go if you want.
"You know how I like being fucked," she bit back before nipping at his exposed throat.
"Oh I do. And you'll get it when you're closer."
"Fucker." She opened her eyes and snarled at him again.
"I certainly am," he replied and dropped to his elbows. She lifted her hips and used her hands to hold her thighs wide for him. Within a dozen strokes, she was moaning like a banshee. Harry knew how to bump her clit with his hips, popping them on every down stroke.
"Damn. Why can't I be 80 and hold out for an hour?" He whined. "I hate the first one being so fast."
"But your recovery time is fantastic," she shuddered under him. "I need you," she whispered. "I need more."
"I hate doing that," he told her firmly.
"I know but I trust you. It really helps." She opened her eyes and he could swear that she was begging.
"Alright, but you know I expect something in return."
"You'll have it. I swear."
Harry shifted over his wife to let his left arm and elbow take most of his balanced weight. He brought his right hand up over her breast, dragging his short nails across the tip to make her shudder again before moving it to her throat. Her snitch tattoo fluttered over her full breasts, taunting him. He kept moving his hand up her chest to her throat. He gently touched her throat, holding his hand in such a way that she could feel his touch like she needed without him hurting her. He knew from work how to subdue a criminal without permanently hurting them. His wife asked for the same thing. But he refused to take it that far.
Thank Merlin for the bastards who hurt her this way were dead. He'd have murdered them himself if they weren't buried 2 meters down.
"Now Harry," she whispered again.
Harry gently squeezed once, like catching a butterfly in his hand. It was all she needed.
Ginny clenched around his cock before moaning entirely too loud. He tried holding out, desperate to slow down his pending eruption. Every nasty image he could think helped only slightly. But it did help.
He kept going, milking her orgasm into a second one.
"One more," he popped his hips one last time before withdrawing from her beautiful body. "Roll over," he instructed, his voice betraying the lust he currently felt.
Ginny did as he asked, lifting her arse in the air and up onto her own elbows. Harry plunged back in, having had those few precious seconds to calm down. Each thump of hips on her arse drove him spare. Each wiggle of her toned arse made him mental. She worked so hard to get to this point, with him, her career, her life – and yet she willingly did anything he asked while they had sex.
How'd he get so fucking lucky?
Harry released one of his hands from her hips and leaned over her back, gently working his fingers into her hair. He pulled her head back, seeing her wince slightly before smiling.
"Sure took your own sweet time doing this to me."
"You wish," He pulled her head back slowly, not to hurt her, and kissed her. It wasn't very tidy — actually rather sloppy — but he was losing his rhythm, waiting on the spring in his belly to break. Harry let go of her hip and put his other hand on her shoulder and moved his left one to her throat, leaving it there without pressure.
She pressed forward and back, rocking in counter to his motions. Moments later, he felt her breath hitch and her interior muscles grip down on his cock before she yelled his name.
The spring broke spectacularly and he could have sworn he saw the Andromeda nebula in his eyes.
Harry let go of Ginny, slowing down until he stopped. She collapsed into the bedclothes with a sigh of deep contentment. He did that to her. Fuck, that was always amazing.
He settled down next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulder. She hissed.
Harry lifted his arm and Ginny shuffled under him before he set it down again. "Sorry. That was the shoulder that I nearly yanked from the socket making one of the goals. I had the trainer work on it after the match but it's still tender."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"And have you natter and prattle over me and so that we never got to this?" Ginny leaned over to kiss Harry softly. "I've hurt myself worse tripping over my bloody feet. A little shoulder tenderness won't stop me from wanting to ravish my dear husband until we both can't walk. Besides, it's Quidditch. If something doesn't hurt after practice or a match, you didn't work hard enough. Merlin, I hear that enough from Gwenog every single damn day I'm there 'round her."
"If I'd known, I wouldn't have been so rough with you." Harry reached over to the bedside table and plucked his glasses up. He shoved them onto his face and then pushed his long locks away. The hairband he'd used before they started disappeared sometime during their shagging, not that he minded too much. "You know I hate being rough with you."
"That wasn't rough, love." Ginny kissed his nose. "No, that will come later on tonight after we take a bath and get something to eat."
"That's my wife, thinking of the practicalities including a meal."
"The meal will be an appetizer. You're the main course."
Ginny rolled out of bed, a little wobbly on her feet, and made her way to the door. "Want to join me for a bath?"
"Does it involve more shagging in the tub?"
"Maybe. I did promise Ewan Mckenzie that you'd be the one fucking me this weekend."
Harry groaned in consternation. "You told him that! Ginny!"
"Well, he did tell me to go fuck myself. I told him that was what you were for." Ginny winked before tossing her hip out slightly, showing off her very firm muscular arse and her ample breasts. "Coming?" She opened the door and made her way to their bathroom across the landing.
Harry's pet dragon raised his head at the thought. "Well, yeah, but maybe not yet." He followed her into the bathroom and their oversized claw tub where a hot bubble bath awaited them.