Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11173170.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Ron/Ginny, Ginny_Weasley/Ron_Weasley
  Character:
      Ron_Weasley, Ginny_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Underage_Sex, Underage_-_Freeform, Frottage, Language
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-11 Words: 1935
****** Just Mine ******
by annabeth
Summary
     It's much too hot at the Burrow, and Ron is trying to escape.
Notes
     Beta'd awesomely by the darling Icicle. Thank you so much, lovely! <3
     written for the fffc June mini challenge, summer bingo. Prompt: "much
     too hot". You can find my card here.
     Ron and Ginny are 13 and 12 here. Mind the warnings!
Heat hung in the air like an almost visible presence, and Ron sighed, plastered
to the grass outside with sweat gluing his shirt to his back where he lay atop
it. Even now, at twilight, the brutal, oppressive heat of August swamped him,
and the Burrow had been unbearable; he hadn't been able to even consider
sleeping.
"Ron?" His sister's voice floated towards him in the near-dark. He tried to
ignore the feelings that welled up at her voice. He closed his eyes, blotting
out the fireflies that had been winking in the dim light, and tried not to
remember the other worst part of the heat wave, and being in the Burrow. Which
was Ginny.
Ginny, who was entirely too used to being the only girl—Molly
notwithstanding—in a house full of boys, and also seemingly quite unaware of
her appeal as she grew up. She was twelve now, and…
"Hey, Ron, stop being a prat and answer me. It's time to go in."
But he couldn't, could he? Because he'd fled the Burrow because Ginny had been
parading around in nothing but a short nightdress. It was an old one, the
cotton worn thin and soft… and somewhat see-through now. Her small, budding
breasts, with their pink-tipped softness, were almost too visible in the
outgrown garment. Ron fancied he could see the freckles on her chest that he
remembered from when they were children.
Ron didn't want to admit to his feelings, not to himself, much less anyone
else. But somewhere along the line, being her closest sibling in age had done…
something. He wasn't sure what. But he looked at her now and he was embarrassed
for her—right? Because it could only be secondhand embarrassment. He wasn't
even going to—
"There you are. Bloody hell, Ron, didn't you hear me calling for you? Mum says
it's time to go to bed."
"It's too fucking hot," Ron grumbled. He chanced opening his eyes and wished he
hadn't.
In the darkness, with only the lights from the porch sweeping out towards them,
Ginny was a little ghost in her white dress, and she stood almost directly over
him. He could see not only her silhouette through the dress from the lights,
but also almost right up her legs. He gulped.
"Gin? Are you wearing knickers?" It was a completely inappropriate question,
one better suited for their mum to ask, but how could he ignore it?
He wasn't sure, but he thought she might have flushed.
"Ron!" she gasped. "You said it yourself; it's too damn hot. So…"
So she wasn't wearinganythingunder that cruddy nightdress?
Ron shivered. It was so hot his own pants were sticking to him in an
uncomfortable, clinging manner. Yet he'd suffered a full-body shiver at her
words anyway.
At that moment, with Ginny standing unabashedly over him, the apex of her
thighs like a secret he wanted to plumb with his eyes—and why?—he felt his cock
twitch. Not now! he thought desperately. Fuckin' inconvenient erections! It
felt like he got them every time someone so much as breathed near him, and it
didn't help that his sister was becoming a woman right beneath his nose.
"You shouldn't just parade about like… like… well, you know. Ginny."
"You're one to talk," Ginny retorted. "Look at you, you're half-naked too."
Ron sat up. He was, it was true, shirtless, but he was a boy, and he wore
shorts—unlike his sister. It was perhaps unfortunate that they were lightweight
shorts, and he hoped Ginny couldn't see the beginning of the tent he was
sporting. It might be summertime, but that was the sort of tent he did not want
in front of her.
"Gods, it's so hot," Ginny said, and plopped herself down next to him. "I get
why you're outside, Ron, but you know you can't sleep out here."
"I wish we could," Ron said wistfully. It had been a long time since he'd slept
next to Ginny, but some stupid little part of his brain wanted to drag her into
his arms and hold her prisoner there until they both fell asleep under the
stars.
"This heat wave is brutal," Ron murmured. "I hope it's cooled off tomorrow."
"Me too." Ginny was quiet awhile, gazing upwards. Ron flopped backwards again.
He tried not to notice when Ginny laid down next to him, her arms crossed
beneath her head, her upper arm brushing against Ron's bicep. It set something
a-fluttering within his chest cavity, and his burgeoning erection swelled a
little more.
"Ron," Ginny said softly. "Do you ever feel… funny… um..."
Ron turned his head a little. Out of the corner of his eye, she was all pale
shadows and darkened hollows, like mysteries waiting to be discovered by
torchlight.
And he wanted to uncover them. All of them. What was wrong with him?
"You gotta be more specific, Ginny," Ron prompted, but he had an uneasy feeling
about her question.
"It's just… I wanted to ask Mum, but it's so mortifying." Ginny turned onto her
side, reaching for Ron… he didn't intend to, but he flinched away. "Hey,
what're you doing?" Ginny asked. She lifted her head and balanced on her elbow.
It strained the old, well-worn and much too small dress across her growing
chest. Even though her tits were still tiny, they poked at the fabric, and
Ron's cock decided, right then, that it wanted to flush completely with blood
and become unbearably awkward.
"You're closest to me in age," Ginny said, rather unnecessarily. "I can't ask
Percy or Fred and George. Or any of them, really."
There was a crack of sound above them, and heat lightning forked across the
sky. Ron swallowed hard. Ginny was… oh, she was definitely going to ask…
"Ron? Why do I feel all throbby and weird between my legs sometimes?"
"Oh hell," Ron spluttered. "You ought to be asking Mum that!"
"I feel it now," Ginny whispered into the darkness. "I think… Ron—"
He couldn't help himself; he shifted towards her. It was a terrible error; she
leaned into him, her breath smelling of toothpaste, and her small, pixie face
was mere inches away from his.
"Gin—" but that was as far as he got. Thunder swelled and broke over them in a
cacophony, followed by a torrent of rain.
Hidden from everyone by a sudden cloak of rain, Ginny crossed that invisible
line, did something they could never come back from: she pressed her lips to
his.
They were wet with droplets of rain, but warm; Ron inhaled, and her breath was
his. He was startled, and unnerved, but not… he ought to be grossed out by
snogging his sister, but his body was communicating all sorts of uncomfortable
truths to him. Like the fact that he was enjoying far too much the feel of her,
and the taste of her. This is my sister I'm snogging, he tried to remind
himself, but his body didn't care.
She pulled back after a second, but she'd been pressed against his chest now,
and he couldn't forget the feel of her on his bare skin. Her dress was soaked
through, displaying all of her charms for his greedy gaze. The rain continued
to fall, and it was so hot that Ginny's skin seemed to waft steam into the air.
Her freckles were as clear to him in the dark as ever, not because he could see
them, but because he knew where each one was.
When lightning struck again, it illuminated Ginny's entire body through the
drenched cotton, and Ron couldn't take it a second longer. He grabbed her,
pressing her backwards against the scorched grass, and ground his hips against
hers. His dick fit snugly in the cradle of her pelvis, and he rubbed against
her, rutting rather rudely and helplessly against her.
"Ron—" breathed his sister. She opened her arms and closed them around his
back, clasping him tightly to her. "Keep… keep going."
"I shouldn't," Ron gasped, overwhelmed by the sensations in his groin. "We
shouldn't. Ginny—"
"Don't be a bloody git now," Ginny snapped, but her tone was softened by her
obvious affection for him. She arched her hips, and Ron gasped. How did she
know what to do?
He didn't know what to do himself; he moved at his body's urging, striving
towards something that felt inexplicably good. He throbbed between her legs,
and he couldn't tell if it was his own body, or hers.
"Ron, I want—" But Ron didn't think he could give her what she wanted. He
ground down against her, swamped by feelings of oh-so-hot and the dampness of
her nightie where it had been rucked up her thighs, and all at once Ron was
aware of the fact that his cock, in nothing but wet shorts, was aligned fully
against his sister's twat—and she was bare, no other material in the way. As
below, they were mirrored above; Ron's bare chest tingled every place it came
into contact with her hardly covered upper body. Her nightie wasn't much of a
barrier between them now that it was wet, and the heat of her through it
practically burned his skin.
He felt himself groan and gasp, more than heard it, and he understood it was
the heat of her, her sex, he was feeling, and he lifted away from her just
slightly, reaching into his shorts and pulling himself out. His prick fell
heavy against her, and he felt scorched like the earth; he barely had a breath
to breathe and then he was jerking in her arms, feeling himself spasm and coat
her lower belly and her cunt with his spunk.
"Roooon," Ginny whined, pistoning her hips underneath him. He didn't know how
to give her what he'd just had; what she so obviously wanted. And deserved. He
wanted it for her, too.
In the end it didn't matter. Despite their inexperience, when Ron
experimentally shoved a finger up inside her—and she was tight and hot—Ginny
grunted and writhed against his wrist, making sounds he'd never even conceived
of and clenching against his finger. The rain had died down to a drizzle, and
suddenly, Ron understood something he'd never put words to before: he loved his
little sister. And not in a family way, either, but an all-consuming,
impossible to be denied sort of love that he knew, he just knew, was going to
fuck him up for life.
Now that he'd felt her come apart in his arms, how could he want anything else?
Want anyone else?
"Ginny," he mumbled, and she stroked his back. "Ginny."
"I know, Ron. I know." Ginny held him even tighter. "No one else for me,
either. Promise me. Swear to it, Ron, that you'll always be just mine."
"I swear," Ron vowed, and he was hardly aware that it had cooled off all around
them, except as he drifted off surrounded by his sister's skin radiating all
the warmth that he'd felt earlier, lying in the grass.
"Don't go to sleep, Ron," Ginny scolded. "It's muddy round here now."
"All right," Ron said sleepily. He snagged her around the waist and rolled them
over, so that she was cuddled on top of him, and they were now both lying on
his shirt. Then he closed his eyes and squeezed her gently. "Just a little
nap."
"Oh, Ron," Ginny said fondly, her small fingers in red hair that matched hers
exactly. But then he was gone, into dreams that very much resembled his new
reality.
                                     end.
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