It was curiosity that made Ginny grab the discreet little pamphlet off the table in her favorite lingerie store. A quick, surreptitious look around told her no one was looking. She snatched it up and tucked it into her quilted bag and strode out of the store, head held high and shoulders square.
It was not that she was ashamed or embarrassed, but her sex life with Harry was often enough speculated on by Rita Skeeter and the like that she simply didn't want to give them any more fodder for their gossip. And if anyone had caught her picking up a sex toy catalogue, there would be comments of for the next three editions of Witch's Weekly.
"And my Mum reads that," muttered Ginny.
A couple of years ago, the summer after her seventh year of school, Ginny had learned both of those particular lessons the hard way. Both she and Harry had been fairly desperate for alone time, tired of sneaking around the Burrow, and the lack of privacy at Grimmauld Place. After a thoroughly enjoyable, though much too short, shag in the orchard, Harry had had the bright idea to take her on a holiday. He'd booked it the next day; his green eyes hot when he told her that he was damned if he would tolerate any interruptions during their weekend. They'd fudged a bit with the calendar, hedged about where they were going and why, and actually managed it. They'd near burned up the bed in the little inn on the Cornish coast. No one had knocked on the door, no one had set off an explosion, they had been entirely alone.
Except for the photographer, who had captured a private moment on the beach, which Ginny had not realized until Fleur of all people warned her "ze English, zey are prudes, zey see you on holiday and must take ze pictures". It was all over Witch Weekly, Ginny walking up to Harry with a rather saucy look on her face, and running her hand over the front of his trousers. Ginny couldn't look at her mother for a week.
Which was why she knew very well not to allow anyone to see her with a sex toy catalogue.
She took it home and looked at it several times over the next few weeks. She already had a small, switch-shaped vibrator that she used both with and without Harry — mostly with, as most of her orgasms were with, and she did not feel any desire to purchase a dildo, no matter how interestingly designed. Ginny was perfectly happy with the cock Harry let her use whenever she wanted. There were cock rings but she didn't know if Harry would want to try one — weren't they uncomfortable?
"How about this one?" Harry asked, one lazy Sunday morning when they were still in bed. "You could trade me in for a new model, I wouldn't even blame you."
Ginny peered over his shoulder. There, on the glossy page, was a rather lurid dildo the size of Harry's thigh, practically, and covered with dragon scales. It was a deep green and had some sort of frill around the head of it. Her mouth dropped open.
"The DragonLance," Harry read helpfully, "want to be filled? Pushed to your limit? Heated to the point of ecstatic nirvana? Try out 10 inch long, ten inch— for Merlin's sake, how many times do you think some poor healer has had to use magic to get one of these out?"
Ginny chuckled. "Loads."
Harry looked at her. A little smirk quirked up the corner of his lips. "You'd have no use for me were I hung like that."
"I wouldn't," Ginny agreed. She didn't have experience with cocks other than Harry's, but she knew he was a little bigger than average, and that first time had been painful. "I don't think I could get that in me."
She knew the moment the casual discussion of dildos turned. Harry let the pamphlet drop on the side of the bed and he rolled over onto his side. The crisp green of his eyes heated, and she stifled a smile.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Not with the regularity to which I've become accustomed," she told him.
His hand slid under the dark blue covers. Ginny wore only a small nightdress that opened rather generously in the front. His fingers found their way into the opening and slid over her stomach, tickling lightly, until her stomach muscles leapt and jumped under his touch. "Regularity, hm?" he said. Her gown was loose enough it was easy for him to slip up and tease her nipple, sending a slash of heat straight between her legs.
It surprised her when, instead of rolling atop her and taking her on a long, languorous ride, he sat up with a sharp motion, hampered by the covers, and flung them off her and off the bed entire. Ginny squawked as the cold air replaced the warm blankets.
"What are you doing, you monster!"
Harry stood up on his knees, head of his cock pushing through the flap in his pajama bottoms, and gave her a boyish grin. His hair stood up on all ends, nearly as straight upward as his erection. "Sorry, Gin, but I've got to do a bit of an inspection, you see... if my memory serves me correctly, and it might not, it's been a while—"
"—it's been less than twelve hours!" said Ginny.
"—that long?" Harry said, blinking at her. His hand, warm, slid onto her thigh. Ginny let her legs fall open and sat up on her elbows.
"I know, it feels longer," she said.
But his attention had drifted elsewhere, to her breasts. Ginny could feel his eyes on her, and her nipples hardened further, as though his gaze were nearly as effective as the feel of his fingers... his lips... Her thighs fell further apart and her hips gave a little shimmy.
Harry flung himself toward the side of the bed, pulling open the drawer of his nightstand and withdrawing a camera. "Just one picture!" he said. It had been her parents's gift to him on his last birthday, and she did not think they would want to know that the vast majority of pictures he took were of her in various states of undress.
"I'm cold!" she protested, but with little strength. "Hurry up!"
"I can't help it," he said. "I don't want to forget this."
Ginny tilted her head back and grinned. She kept her body relaxed, having learned not to tense up. When she heard the shutter click, she let her hand wander down to the thatch of hair between her legs, tangling in her curls, tickling them. When Harry developed this picture, it would look as though she were touching herself, and his happy sigh as he set the camera down was all the more reason to indulge him. For, in turn, he was minded to indulge her.
Indeed, when he moved again, he moved to lay between her thighs, nudging them even further apart with his shoulders, opening her totally. Her hips wriggled again as she felt his breath on her center.
"Ah," said Harry, nuzzling her. "Just as I remember. You're much too small... much too tight..." But then his lips were on her, nibbling at her, licking her folds. And his tongue was on her clit, exactly where she liked it, and all thoughts of ten inch dildos — or indeed, all thoughts of anything but the feel of him kissing her — slipped from her mind.
In truth, Ginny forgot about that little pamphlet. Their activities that Sunday morning had turned into something more athletic than she's expected, and it was lost under the bed and therefore out of her mind. Harry, though he did not have a DragonLance, was expert with his own cock — at least expert in the ways that made Ginny scream aloud, wrap her legs around his waist, and let him prod her until she came the fourth time that day. Their lazy Sunday morning turned into a scorching marathon of sex that ended with her in his lap in the bathtub, utterly knackered.
Therefore, nearly a week later, when a nondescript owl carrying a small package wrapped in brown paper and twine flew into the kitchen as she was cutting up vegetables for dinner, Ginny blinked at it and Harry cheered. "Finally!" he crowed. "I didn't think it would take this long!"
He took the package from the owl but not before Ginny read that it was addressed to a Mr. James Black. "James Black?" she snorted, as the owl flapped by her on its way out of their homey little kitchen. "That's not an obvious alias for you."
"Ha," he said, but he was distracted, she could tell. His wand snipped off the twine and he ripped into the paper. "I didn't want it coming out in next week's Witch Weekly that we were buying sex toys."
Ginny dropped the knife. Harry vanished it before it buried itself in her foot. "What?"
"Your mum reads Witch Weekly," he explained.
"You bought a sex toy!" she said. Her voice was rather loud to her own ears. "Harry James Potter, do not tell me you bought that DragonLance!"
"Ginevra Molly Potter," he said in exactly the same tone, "after repeated and lengthy inspections, I thought we agreed that you are much too—hey!"
Ginny had tossed a bit of wind at him that near ripped the package out of his hands. It was still mostly covered with the paper and she couldn't quite see what it was. "Well?" she said, hands on her hips. "What did you get?" It was curiosity that had her rising up to her tiptoes. But Harry had caught a playful mood and hid it behind his back.
"I'm not telling you," he said. "Evanesco," he muttered, vanishing it. "You'll find out after dinner."
It turned out to be a lengthy experience, that. Ginny nearly burned the vegetables in her haste to get everything on the table. "Did you buy a cock ring?" she asked once everything was on the table. "I thought about one, but didn't know you'd find it very comfortable." She thought about the illustration. "It doesn't look very comfortable."
"Looks aren't everything," said Harry, slathering some butter on his bread. "I'd try it. But I'm not telling you what I got."
"So it isn't a cock ring," said Ginny, squirming in her seat. "And I've already got a vibrator..."
"And it's an excellent little thing," said Harry. He grinned at her. "You can't stand not knowing, can you?"
"No," she said.
Through the meal, she peppered him with questions, scooting closer to him as she did. As she took one of her last bites of roast, she asked, "Did you get a new camera perhaps? One that will... perhaps capture an even longer scene?" They had taken several photos of themselves having sex, but Ginny wondered if there was something else that would heighten what a photograph could or could not capture. "Are you going to make me touch myself while you take pictures?"
"Maybe next weekend," said Harry. He was attempting to keep his tone light, but Ginny could hear the strain in it.
Good.
"Did you get bindings?" Ginny asked, settling her hand on his thigh. She did not think he would have done.
"You witch," he said softly, when her hand found his erection, waiting for her. She gave it a little squeeze and squirmed again.
They looked at each other, and then the three quarters eaten meal in front of them. Harry let out a breath that rifled her hair as she fondled his thick cock through his trousers. Then, in a quick movement, he was pushing himself away from the table and pulling Ginny to her feet. The kiss he gave her was hard and hot, and he pushed her toward the door of the kitchen.
"Go get in bed, Gin," ordered Harry. Ginny sucked in a breath when she looked up into his eyes. His pupils were dark and round. He did not normally order her about, and heat flared at her center. "Naked. Understand?" They were at the door now. Harry had her backed up against the wall; his hand was braced above her head, and he ground his erection into her.
He kissed her again, swift and hard. Ginny bit his lip when he made to pull away.
"Understood," she said, finally.
The pressure against her eased and Ginny whirled away and out the door and up the two flights of stairs to their bedroom. She undressed as she did so, leaving her outer robes on the landing and her knickers at the top of the stairs for Harry to find. They were small and blue and one of his favorite pairs. By the time she reached their bedroom, she was naked. She walked around the large space, choosing to light candles by hand rather than with wand. The warm aroma of cedar and lavender filled the air. Ginny turned down the covers, humming, and piled their pillows up against the headboard; the camera came out of Harry's nightstand, ready if he wanted it, and Ginny brought out the box of mints in hers and ate one.
Then, done with her preparations, she clambered onto the bed. There was no sound of Harry approaching; he truly was making her wait. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she thought of their unfinished dinner. The heat, which had been banked as she climbed to their room, returned. Her legs relaxed and she brushed her hand between them. There was wetness there, she found, lightly rubbing her center. She wanted him.
"I should've insisted on an appetizer," Ginny said to the empty room. She tickled her clit as she thought of it. If she'd straddled him in his chair and put his erection to good use, riding him until they were both sweaty and shouting, she would be feeling a lot less frustrated. He may even yet be buried in her, just the way she liked it, his cock stretching her, filling her, his thumb rubbing her clit exactly how she was doing now. A little moan escaped her. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd had sex at the dinner table. It wouldn't have even been the first time they had sex during dinner.
Ginny tilted her head back against the carved headboard and bit her lip. As good as it felt to touch her clit, she wanted Harry.
"I never get tired of seeing that," he said from the doorway.
"Harry," she said. "Come here."
He did. In his hands he held a... candle? "You ordered a candle?" she asked, sitting up, legs still spread, but not quite as hazy with arousal. Her focus sharpened on it. The wick was burnt at the very tip, as though he'd lit it down in the kitchen. She looked around the room. There were at least fifteen candles burning at the moment. They had no shortage of candles. And... there was a slender crystal spoon attached to it. Her brow furrowed. "Harry, what...?"
"You'll see," he said. He set the candle on his nightstand and pulled off his clothing. His cock was swollen, though not at its full potential, and there was a tiny circular red mark next to his bellybutton. "But before we do it, I should tell you—it doesn't hurt. Not in the slightest."
He used his wand to light the candle. A crisp scent Ginny could not identify joined the cedar and lavender. It warmed her on the inside, though, and her clit gave a sharp little throb, as though demanding attention. He turned to her, and dimmed the lights. It was only candlelight and the streetlamp on the street down below that illuminated them. Still, Ginny could see the green of his eyes in the flickering light, and when he moved onto the bed, kneeling, there was nothing hidden from her gaze: not the thick cock rising toward her, nor the heavy sac below, or the thatch of black hair above.
"We have to let the wax warm," Harry murmured. "That's what took me so long down below... I had to let it melt."
"You wanted to make sure it wouldn't hurt," said Ginny. Her voice gave an odd little wobble.
"Of course."
Harry was not precisely gentle when he kissed her, and that suited her perfectly. Her arousal came roaring back when his tongue pushed in her mouth — he, too, tasted of mint — and his hand squeezed her breast, plumping it, then pinching her nipple. Ginny moaned. He took this as encouragement, and his hand dropped down between her thighs. His thumb found her clit and pressed, hard, and she arched and cried out.
"Like that?" he rasped out.
"Yeah," she said. She wriggled, and he slid one finger and then two, inside her. Her eyes closed and her focus narrowed onto her body, and how Harry was making her feel, ready to come but also wanting more than just his fingers inside her. The sex toy... the candle.. it fled her mind, and she grappled at his wrist. "Harry, come fuck me."
"Not yet," he said, amused. "I haven't even started playing yet."
Her eyes cracked upon. His cock bobbed in front of her, near fully hard, as he reached over and grabbed both candle and camera. Nerves made Ginny's body tense, but she eased when Harry brought it closer. The flame had melted a full layer of wax, turning it clear and bright. The crystal spoon was no longer clear but a pale rose color.
"It doesn't hurt? It isn't hot?" Ginny asked.
"It feels good," said Harry. "Here, hold out your arm."
Ginny held it out to him, solemn.
Harry dipped the rosy spoon in the wax and held it out. He twirled it over her pale forearm and a bit of it dripped down—
Ginny gasped and arched her back. It was hot, yes, but not painfully so. Warm pleasure seeped into her where the wax fell. She felt it in her clit and at her center, though her forearm was not a particularly erogenous zone on her body. "Oh!" she said. "Oh! That doesn't hurt!"
"It doesn't," Harry agreed. His eyes were dark and intense. "Ginny... will you let me?"
"Oh, yes," she said, relaxing once more onto the pillows. "Yes, please."
All the candles nearly burned out with how long Harry played with her. He began light and easy, dripping a bit of wax on her breast, then a streak of it over her navel. Wherever the wax dripped, warm pleasure followed. Harry used his fingers, relentless, to give her the orgasm her body craved, and then he continued to play.
Wax coated her nipples, making a short cry rip from her throat.
"Oh? Does it hurt?" Harry asked.
Ginny shook her head frantically from side to side, but Harry ignored this. He laved her nipples with his tongue. It created a new sort of sensation, one she couldn't describe, but was some how hot and sweet and intense all at once. Now he followed the path of the wax with lips and tongue, nibbling at her, making her writhe, near mindless with pleasure.
"I'm drawing an H," he said, and did so. The bottom of the letter ended up in her curls. He wrote their name, Potter, on her inner thigh. This, he took a picture of, sitting back on his heels. Ginny heard the click of the shutter, and wondered at what sort of picture would be developed from this, how wanton she would look, with the wax glistening on her inner thighs as though Harry had written their name with an early spend.
"It's edible, then?" Ginny rasped out, as he ate the Potter off her thigh.
"I promise you I would not eat wax that was not edible," said Harry, who sounded nearly as ragged as she did. "Here — taste it."
Instead of using the spoon, he dipped his finger in the wax and held it to her lips. Ginny touched it with her tongue. It tasted of honey... sweet honey. The flavor burst on her tongue. "Honey."
But Harry was already moving back down.
"Ginny." His voice drifted over her center. "Do you want me to put it on your clit?"
"Oh Merlin yes," she breathed.
She thought he would eat it off her, but instead he rose up. His cock was swollen and flushed. Moisture beaded at the tip and her thighs quivered with sudden need. She spread her legs wider, lifting her knees. In nearly the same instant he dripped wax on her clit, he pushed his cock inside her, and the twin sensation was nearly too much. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder blades, raking him, and he gave her an answering groan.
And then he was fucking her exactly how she liked, long smooth strokes, his cock heavy inside her. Added to that, too, was the warmth enveloping her clit, making her near mindless with pleasure. She came, screaming his name, whole body tight and shaking. But he wasn't finished, not even close, and he kept at it until she was climbing again. This time, he made the climb with her. His movements grew harder, jerkier, and her name came out of his mouth at the top of every thrust.
"Fuck, Ginny, you're so fucking hot," he grunted. She could feel him swelling inside her. He was about to come.
"Just a bit more, Harry, please," she begged. This time, her nails dug into the small of his back. It was slippery with sweat, and their bodies made a sharp slap when they came together. Ginny's focus narrowed onto the feel of his cock pushing inside her, his sac slapping against her, his body hard against and within hers. Her mouth opened, and she drew in deep gasps. "Oh fuck! Fuck, Harry, I'm coming!"
He came right before she did; she could feel the heat spurting into her, and the new, velvety feel of his slowing thrusts. His lips had found her jaw, and the sensitive spot under her ear, and then her lips. When his tongue pressed into her mouth, tasting of honey, and Ginny clamped her thighs around his waist and he gave one more thrust, she came.
Both lay limp as rags for long minutes afterward. "Fuck, Ginny," Harry said weakly.
"I'm not ready for another round," she said drowsily.
He had more energy than she did. He lifted off her, used his wand to put out the guttering candles, included the special one, and tucked them both into bed. Ginny slumped against him, thoughts moving in a slow, lazy spiral. His arms wrapped around her and he cuddled her to him, his front to her back. She stretched and wriggled until her head was just below his chin.
"I love you," said Harry, some time later. It was not late enough to sleep, but Ginny wanted the comfort of this closeness and did not want to move.
"I love you, too," she said.
"I'm so grateful to be alive," he said.
Ginny found his hand and twined her fingers with his. In the daylight, she might have given him a gentle bit of teasing — he was grateful to be alive because he'd just enjoyed himself eating edible wax off of her body — but with all the lights out it was different. She thought of him writing Potter on her inner thigh and quivered with remembered pleasure. So much could have been lost that night in the forest so long ago. Her fingers squeezed his. He squeezed back.
"I'm lucky to have you," Ginny said into the quiet night. Any other time, he might have chuckled. Instead, he pressed a kiss on her bare shoulder. "You tested it out on yourself, first," she added.
He kissed her neck. "I would never hurt you."
Ginny's eyes sagged. He would never. That was a promise she was building her life upon, and she knew he would keep it. Tomorrow, she would turn the tables and use the wax — she would cover his cock with it — and suck him until he was the one who lost all sense. But tonight, she wanted him to hold her.
And she knew he would.
HPHPHPHPHP
Author's Note: So months ago, the artist blvnk asked tumblr for fics that included kinky sex followed by cuddling, and this is my offering. In many ways, 2020 has been a strange year for our world, and it has been a strange year for me, personally. But the good thing that has come out of it is that I think I have discovered the knack of starting and finishing original works, but damn does it feel good to write fanfic again. Damn. So I am thankful for both originals and fanfic, and just thankful for the solace of writing in general. I was driving a couple months ago and figured out a plot element for a story, and pulled over and was like… really struck by how fulfilling writing is for me. So, thanks for reading, and making it not feel like I'm shouting out into the void.