Story title: Screaming Orgasm
Disclaimer: Not mine. They're JKR's, though I'm not quite sure she would have used this title. *giggles* I apologize, but I was supposed to do cocktail smut ...and THAT was the name of the cocktail. So yeah.
Ginny had always been a loud person.
Her tone of voice is one or two decibels too high. She doesn't talk - she yells is what her Mother used to say. It was an effective way to get rid of annoying older brothers, but it was also a curse when said brothers thought you were so angry you couldn't help but scream.
It's a fact of life, as unmistakable and unchanging as her red hair and the freckles she used to play join-the-dots with when she was little. She didn't particularly mind it, either. It helped her stand out, be recognized. On the Pitch, it helped her distract the opponents. Outside, it helped her earn respect.
Ginny had always been a loud person, and in this, she's no different.
A moan escapes from her pressed lips, and she feels Harry's hand cover her mouth with his hand as his kisses become more frantic. She loves it. He hasn't shaved in a couple of days and his warm breath against her neck makes her shiver with pleasure. She runs her hands through his already messy hair and bites down on her lips so hard she can taste blood.
His hand reaches down inside her shirt and his hands feel incredibly cold against her back. It's brilliant, and she wants more of him, all of him. She can't tell him that, though. His hand is still firmly clasped over her mouth. She does the next best thing and lets her hands wander, fingernails scratching the sensitive skin of his neck lightly. He raises his head to look at her, and suddenly his hands have left her mouth to press her insistently against the bare walls. She feels a sudden rush of excitement, as sounds of approval escape her lips.
Reality intrudes, like always. There's a crash downstairs, and Harry is suddenly on the other side of the room, looking flustered. Frustration makes her limbs heavy. She tries to right herself as she lets out a deep breath and tries to gain control of her senses.
"Eh, I think I should go down first …you can take your time, so no one will see us come down at the same time. We wouldn't want to …you know, give them ideas."
"We wouldn't want to give them the right idea, you mean?" Ginny responded breathlessly.
Harry smirked. "And, you know, next time we really need to remember the Silencing Charm. It seems you're utterly incapable of keeping your mouth shut."
Ginny seemed affronted. "Of course I can 'keep my mouth shut', Harry Potter!"
He'd finished straightening his clothes out, and was now staring at her, his expression one of guarded amusement. "Eh, no. You can't, Ginny."
Her look rivaled hers. "I'll prove it to you, Harry Potter," she said, before launching herself into his arms.
"Gin –ny, we can't," he said as he tried to push her away with little to no conviction. "Someone could find us. And, you – you know that you really …can't…just can't."
His voice lost strength as her hands found their way inside his shirt. Her mouth was alternating between softly kissing his neck and slightly biting it, and he felt himself loosing the last shards of his precious control.
"Loud, aren't we?" she whispered when he let out a breathy sound, and he regained enough of his senses to understand that the only way he could go downstairs without getting caught and with his dignity intact was to prove her wrong.
Grabbing her wrists, he set out to do just that. Her eyes were alight as he pushed her against the wall one more time and his mouth was insistent, his hands tracing patterns on her back. She felt her knees weaken and he became more insistent, his body supporting hers. His mouth was on her neck, traveling farther down, and she closed her lips furiously to stop the sounds that were threatening to come out.
She didn't need to, for he stopped suddenly, made his way back up to her neck, her face, her mouth and kissed her softly, yet insistently.
"I win," he whispered against her lips.
"Ah, so it was a competition?" she whispered back, biting his lower lip.
His lips curved into a smile and he delicately straightened out her hair as he pushed himself away. "Fact is, you are a loud person. I'm not saying that bothers me," he added slowly, "It's just a fact. You can't keep quiet."
"I can too." Ginny replied stubbornly. "I just don't want to."
"I see. So I'm good," his eyes were twinkling with mischief.
"You are a conceited bastard, Harry Potter. I can keep my mouth shut if I choose to, and I'll prove it to you, anytime, anyplace. Well, any place that's not my parent's house."
He smiled as he started walking away from her, his glasses half askew still. "I win either way." He whispered, loud enough for her to hear. Apparently, he had an evening to plan.
There was a Muggle saying, something about the best laid plans of men, which Harry wished he could remember. He'd been going over the evening in his head for weeks, determined to catch Ginny by surprise. First he'd tried romantic, but the Muggles magazines were downright scary, and Hermione wasn't that good at romantic anyway. So he'd gone with intimate, at Hermione's urging, and forgotten about flowers and candles.
He'd been going out with Ginny for over three years, and he was all but a member of the Weasley family, but for all the things they'd gone through together, they'd never gone away for the weekend. They'd sneaked around for months before she finally moved out, stealing a night here and there, in between Auror training and Quidditch practices, with help from friends and family alike, and afterwards, when she'd finally moved out, they'd spent their share of nights together, but never a whole weekend away where no one could disturb them.
All things considered the idea of a romantic getaway seemed like the most brilliant thing in the world.
Which is why he'd spent weeks looking for the perfect tropical paradise to whisk her away to, booked the most perfect room, and even considered that this might be the right moment to actually put to use the ring that he'd purchased a few weeks ago.
He hadn't really decided, but he'd packed the ring among his things anyway.
Now he was standing in the middle of Ginny's flat, angry at himself for deciding that this needed to be a surprise. Surprises tend to go wrong, he should have known that. It was eight o'clock on a Friday night, Ginny was nowhere to be seen, and he was left to try and figure out what she would pack so he could go whisk her away from extra-practice, where he was sure she was.
Sighing, he proceeded to fill out a bag with a few essentials and things he'd seen Ginny using daily. He was surprised to realize that he knew exactly what she liked to wear to bed, her favorite perfume and the dress she thought enhanced her curves. Still, he kind of hoped they could lounge around the bed all weekend so he wouldn't have to worry about what he'd packed.
He was just about done when he heard a noise in the kitchen and realized Ginny was home. Suddenly, he felt giddy. Trying to make as little noise as possible he exited the room and headed for the cursing figure of his girlfriend.
"Git!" she was saying animatedly, as if the steaming cup of tea in front of her could offer her answers. "You aren't giving me one-hundred percent, Weasley! He's damn right I wasn't. I was giving him one-hundred and twenty percent!"
Harry felt like standing there and just staring at her, but he was aware that they were already late for his reservation, and Ginny would undoubtedly want to shower and change before leaving. Smiling slightly, he walked behind her and without warming placed a kiss in her neck.
"Harry!" she yelped, and, as silly as it sounded, he was quite glad she didn't even consider that it could be anyone else. "What are you doing here?" she purred as she turned around to give him a quick hug.
"Surprising you," he responded. "Now, go get changed if you want to, I'm kidnapping you for the weekend."
"You are?" Ginny's face was suddenly bright. "Where are we going?" she continued, but she was already on her way to the room. "What do I need to pack?"
"I kind of already packed for you. I was hoping to save us some time, but you can go ahead and …"
Ginny interrupted him with a kiss. "Whatever you packed is fine. I don't foresee needing that many clothes." She finished with a look that made him re-consider whether she actually needed to change clothes.
Thankfully, she didn't take too long to get ready. Ginny rarely did. It always amused him to hear the stories about other guy's girlfriends, because it seemed to him that Ginny was the most atypical girl he'd ever met. She wasn't overly girly in any way, and yet she always managed to, somehow, outshine those girly girls who looked like they tried too hard.
"Ready to go?" He asked when she emerged, and she merely took her own bag from him and stood there, eyes alight, waiting. "I'll Apparate us both, since you don't know where we're going. I think it would be more …I don't know, I guess romantic, if you closed your eyes or something."
Ginny obliged, and when she finally opened her eyes moments later she was standing in the middle of a room as large as her flat, with an enormous balcony with a beachside view.
"Oh, Harry." She whispered. "This is gorgeous. Where are we?"
"Cyprus," Harry let himself smile. "I saw a brochure of this hotel a month or so ago, and thought it looked just perfect. And we were more than due a weekend away, just the two of us."
"You're quite right about that, Mr. Potter," Ginny said, closing the distance between them so she could play with his hair. "Too bad we'll have to come back here at a later time. I don't plan on letting you out of the room just yet."
Her lips were on his, and a familiar warmth was spreading through his limbs. His arms pressed her firmly against him, and he savored the feeling, let himself slowly circle her waist, run his hands through the smooth skin of her stomach. He ached to feel her skin, and he undid the last button of her shirt, traced idle patterns over her navel.
She giggled, loudly, but that wasn't the type of sound Harry was interested in her making. Ginny smiled as he picked her up, carried her towards the bed.
"How very dashing of you, Mr. Potter," she joked.
"I aim to please," he responded as he deposited her in the bed and claimed her mouth urgently.
There was no more talking for a while after that. Ginny didn't seem to be in the mood for waiting, and Harry's shirt was the first victim of her ministrations. He seemed to be taking things more slowly, placing soft and feverish kisses over her skin, playing with her shirt until she finally took it off, and then taking forever with her bra.
Every touch elicited a response from Ginny. First came the ragged breathing as her bra joined her shirt on the floor. Then, soft moans as Harry explored her body slowly, pressed his skin against hers, alternating between hands and lips until her nails left marks in the skin of his back.
He understood, for the rest of her clothes disappeared quickly, and she couldn't even remember what he was wearing as she clung to him, lost to sensation. Outside, the sun was hiding in the horizon, casting its last rays of light over the sandy beach and creating a soft glow over their room.
Clothes discarded, sensations took over, skin over skin, teeth against skin, hands grasping, clutching, possessing. He could see nothing but her flushed face and he was loosing focus with every second, trying to hold onto the mental image before his eyes closed and he was forced to bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out.
There was sudden pause, and then Ginny was moaning loudly, almost rhythmically as she grabbed onto him, and his hand was cupping her cheek, though his eyes were closed, and together they exhaled in a steady cadence that left them with unfocused eyes and the image of each other burning in their eyes.
One last final scream from Ginny, a shrill, throaty sound that she couldn't have helped, and they collapsed into the bed, exhausted and sweaty. Unconsciously his hands traveled the length of her back, reassuring, comforting. Ginny held onto him fiercely.
"See," Harry said a little while afterwards, placing a soft kiss on her brow. "I win. You can't keep your mouth shut."
Ginny only giggled. "You might have a point there, Mr. Potter. But then again, I still have time to prove you wrong."
Harry smiled. The beach at night, with the moon reflected on its surface looked very beautiful indeed, and yet he had no desire to go outside, at all. Sighing contentedly, he snuggled up against Ginny.
And they still had two more days to go. Brilliant.