Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11115123.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Ginny_Weasley/Ron_Weasley
  Character:
      Ginny_Weasley, Ron_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Sibling_Incest, Sexual_Roleplay, Underage_-_Freeform, Consensual_Underage
      Sex, foodplay, Barebacking, Het, roleplay_au:_domestic/tradesman
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-06 Words: 1575
****** Take it Upstairs ******
by annabeth
Summary
     Ron and Ginny have the house to themselves, and Ginny initiates some
     sexy roleplay with her favorite brother.
Notes
     More old fic, this is from 2009 originally, and written for
     kinkbingo.
"We're too old for this game, Ginny," Ron says, walking up behind her, pinning
her to the counter, her back sloped just right against his chest.
She proves that she'll always be full of surprises and turns in his arms,
grinning directly into his face, their freckles doubtless matching. She's tall
enough now that she can look right into his eyes. She's fifteen -- she
shouldn't be doing this.
"What's the matter?" she asks, voice arched like her breasts against his chest.
He keeps his eyes fixed on her face -- not on the apron she's wearing. Or the
nothing she's wearing underneath it. "Last year you couldn't wait for the
family vacation to 'stay home and do homework'," and her tone takes on a
slightly mocking air over the last words.
"Last year we didn't--" fuck, he finishes silently, staring straight into her
eyes. Snogging, maybe. Stupid, unwise continuation of a tradition begun when
they were children, taken too many steps over the line -- beyond the type of
snog that you could get up to in front of your mother and into the realm of one
step away from having her shirt over her head.
"Stop being so much of a stick-in-the-mud," she says. She leans in closer and
he can smell cherries on her breath. "I'm the maid, Ron, and you can be the--
" here she pauses -- "plumber."
"Like I said, too old for ga--"
She interrupts. "Haven't you ever heard of roleplay? Honestly, Ron."
"What's the point?" Ron takes a step back, trying to escape the lure of her
lips, just begging for him to touch them with his own.
"The point is that we're getting up to all sorts of naughty shenanigans whilst
the owners aren't home. And aren't we?" She follows him and this time her lips
flatten out against his. It's not too late, he's thinking, she's still only--
But then her tongue is in his mouth and he's forced to concede the point, that
there's a certain dangerous thrill -- like stepping over a fallen power line -
- that comes from snogging your sister in your parents' kitchen, especially
when she's dressed like the help.
And try though he does, he can't quite suppress the way it makes him feel to be
this close to her, their bodies meeting with every breath; to pretend that they
are other people. To tangle his tongue up with hers and just forget for a few
minutes how wrong it is to touch his sister like this.
She takes a breath that pushes her round, firm little breasts against his own
pecs, and says:
"You should really change, but I don't think I can wait--" and then her hands
are fisted in his belt, tugging at the leather restraint and trying to pull it
from the loops. Frankly, with the snogging, he hadn't even noticed her get it
undone.
"Ginny--" he starts, but she puts a finger to his lips. "No, you don't know my
name," she scolds. "I was making biscuits for the family I work for and you
just strode in and swept me off my feet all romantic-like, and I'm melting into
your arms, completely awash with the emotions that you--"
"Bugger, Gin, how many trashy novels have you read?" He's hard, though, when
her thumb brushes over the head of his cock through the fabric as she tries to
free it from his trousers.
"Don't you want a taste?" she asks, and then merrily spins away from him,
leaving him throbbing as she dips the spoon into the bowl he hadn't even
noticed on the counter. Then again, if your sister -- who has such nice skin -
- were standing in your kitchen bare-assed but for an apron, you might not
notice anything else, either, he reckons.
She smears cookie dough over his lips, and he can't halt the reflexive movement
of his tongue trying to lick it away. Blimey, it's good.
And then she rubs some along her own lips and that's the type of invitation he
just can't ignore; he grabs the nape of her neck and reels her in, snogging her
and mashing cookie dough all over both of their faces in the process.
Which is about when her small yet elegant hand finds its way into his pants,
slides up and curls around his dick and he's pretty much -- well, about to go
off, really. He and Lavender never made it quite this far.
Then again, neither had he and Ginny, he muses, as she yanks him free of the
confines of his clothes and strokes up and down his shaft with practised
finesse.
"All right--" he gasps, "where the bloody hell did you learn to do that?"
"If I tell you you'll get yourself beaten up when we get back to Hogwarts," she
breathes into his mouth, and then she reaches for his slack arms. "C'mon,
you're the instigator, remember? Instigate."
He's been so veiled with shock from the whole experience so far that he forgot
who was meant to be doing what, so he wraps his arms around her and hefts her
onto the counter-top. Her legs fall open easily, and she's really bare and rosy
beneath the apron that has ridden up her thighs.
When he dares to touch her, finally, she's wet, sweet cloying thick around his
fingers, and he pushes them inside her, the feel of her spinning crazily
through his body like a live wire.
"Go on, go on--" she pants, her head falling back against the cabinet behind
her, her body arching into his intrusion. "What, do I have to draw you a map?
Stick your bloody dick up there, genius," she grits out, and Ron thinks, as he
starts to line up his cock with her body, that there's no-way you can forget
you're fucking your sister if she still insults you just the same in the heat
of the moment as she does any other time.
Strangely, it doesn't bother him like it should, and he kicks forward with his
hips, fills her up and feels the incredible elastic stretch of her body around
him.
"Is that -- should I--"
"Fuckin' move," she orders, and Ron pulls back, slides out of her a little even
though all he wants to do is stay in there as deep as possible forever.
"Thought I was the instigator?" he quips, and shimmies his hips back a little
further, until only his cockhead is still wrapped in her wet softness.
"Oh God, yes, yes," she wails, and he can't really keep himself out of there
anyway; plunges back in with such force it drives her bare ass across the
counter-top. She moans a little but cants her hips towards him so that she
meets him part-way through the thrust.
It buries him into his sister right up to the balls, and he can feel the faint
whisper of her pubic hair against his lower belly, and for one lightning-bright
startled second he realises that it's the same colour as his -- and then he's
coming, cock jerking, out of control, and he yanks out of her, fast-like, to
keep from losing too much inside her, suddenly more aware than he'd like to be
what might happen if he got her pregnant.
This means that his spunk gets all over the frilly white apron, a slightly
darker tone to the fluid as it soils the fabric, and some of it hits her lower
body and hangs sticky like spider-silk from her pubic hair, looking obscene
against the reddish curls.
"Bloody hell," she says. "You know you're not supposed to jizz yourself 'til
you make the girl come, right?"
"Sorry," he says, and even though Lavender never touched his dick or anything
of that sort, he might've once -- okay, maybe twice -- got her off, so he
vaguely knows what he's doing when he reaches back down against Ginny, pressing
and circling and worrying his thumb at her as his forefinger slides into her,
still wet and sticky now from his come; she lasts about a second before her
inner muscles clench down on his fingers and her body quakes against his.
She's opening her eyes moments later, and pokes him in the centre of his still-
clothed chest. "The toilet needs fixing, did you know?" she says. "And I have
to finish up with these biscuits."
He looks at her for a long second, sizing her up, skin sex-flushed and sheened
with perspiration, and then he nods.
"Ought to do this sort of thing more often," he concedes, and means: dress up
and get each other off, and she smiles like she knows exactly what he's saying
with those particular words.
"Decent thing to do would be to help the lady down," she says with a nudge in
her voice. He envelops her with his arms again and lifts her down, setting her
to her feet, and he watches her knees tremble as she gets her footing.
"And when the toilet's fixed," she says, "I'll be dusting, so just let yourself
out."
God, he thinks, she's bloody hot when she's playing at being the help. The
thought causes his cock to make a feeble attempt at round two, but he's not
quite ready yet, so he dashes up the stairs and figures: he might as well find
some trousers that don't fit any more, so his ass will hang out like is proper
if he's a plumber, after all.
                                     end.
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