Okay. It goes like this: I haven't been inspired a whole lot because of school... except late, late at night. So I work a little, I write a little. It's a slow process, I know... but it's what it takes to get these things out of my head.

Warnings:

1) Tired Hands is surely a lot more lemony than I've written in a good minute.

2) I don't beta, I just proofread the best I can. Which, you know, sometimes isn't that much, on account of the fact that I've already read it so many times in the process of writing it that I probably missed a good few typos. For that, I am truly sorry; I, myself, can't stand typos, so that makes me look a little like a hypocrite...

3) It probably sucks. I'm just sayin'. I haven't written in awhile, so this is kind of like an exercise for myself (and my new lappy) to see what we're capable of.

Without further ado... please enjoy. I hope.

Tired Hands

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Except this plot...*blushes*. Everything belongs to Jo and her boys, and I'm too broke for her to sue.

Her hands were tired.

It had been a week - no, not even that, four days at most - since he had left for his business trip in Singapore, and her body was suffering serious damage at his absence. She was almost positive she'd sprained her wrist at one point, and her fingers were an entirely different story. The fifth morning of waking alone and insatiable, she decided enough was enough.

Now, she stood at the mouth of Knockturn Alley, staring into its gloomy shadows. She couldn't hear much besides the ominous whistling of the wind in her hair, but the depth of the passage beckoned to her. She pulled her hood over her head, holding firmly to her ground; did she really want to do this? Would it be worth it? She flexed her fingers and winced; yes, this needed to be done.

The store was easy enough to find. Hermione had bashfully enclosed its location - nestled between a display of skulls and a storefront built of coffins - in a conversation previous to Draco's departures, much to Ginny's slight mortification. It seemed the woman she had thought to have known quite personally was a bit more personal in the absence of her books. Go figure.

The more intriguing thought, to Ginny at least, was more what a store like this could possibly be doing in Knockturn Alley, but she really didn't care. What mattered most to her was that it was easily located in her own comfort of the Wizarding world; she had been a little uneasy at the thought of having to venture out into Muggle shopping centers to find such a personal instrument.

Instrument, indeed. As she entered the store, the advertisements she came upon after immediately crossing the threshold made even her, the former Slytherin Sex God's wife, blush at their crude bluntness. She decided she had never seen so many gyrating objects in her entire twenty-three years of life, and she had been to many of Blaise Zabini's 'house warming' parties. She had perhaps half a mind to turn around and find another way to satiate her needs, but at the thought of said needs, her knees gave a little gelatin wiggle and her fingers throbbed just enough to propel her to the counter.

The shopkeeper wasn't an old gaunt skeleton, as she had imagined, but instead a young woman, perhaps her age, with long dark curls and shadowed eyes. Ginny tightened her hood around her face to conceal her telltale red locks and clenched her jaw.

"Hi, can I help you?" the woman perkily inquired, and Ginny took a deep breath and leaned across the counter the slightest bit.

"I should hope so," she murmured quietly, feeling the flush rise up her neck at the conversation she knew was about to ensue.

The woman across from her grinned, slow and secret, and moved away from the counter, coming around to stand a pace away from Ginny.

"Let me show you some of our newest shipment."

The box in Ginny's hands seemed to warm at her every thought as she made her way back through the streets of Diagon Alley to a safe Apparation point. She kept her head low and her arms wrapped tightly around it, hoping to all gods that she didn't run into anyone, especially her mother.

She was giddy by the time she had pop'd back through the wards of the Manor, and practically threw her cloak and purse upon an elf - she wasn't paying enough attention to see which one - that had appeared to assist her with her purchases.

"No dinner tonight, thank you. And no disturbances, please," she instructed over her shoulder, before she hurried up the stairs and into the East Wing, where the master bedroom was located. There, she shimmied out of her jeans and bounded onto the bed in her button up and panties, ripping apart her package to gaze upon her new toy and all its glory.

"I'll have to remember to donate to that place," she mumbled to herself, before she kicked the packaging aside and got to work on her body's rising demands.

She had kicked the covers to the foot of the bed, choosing to splay her legs across the duvet with her head resting against the pillows. She had kicked her panties aside, as well; they had found a nice resting spot on the arm of the chair in the corner, where she had flung her jeans.

Her button up had come undone, freeing her generous white-lace clad breasts from their previous confinements. She had let her curls down to rest on her shoulders, some of them spread across the pillows, others matted to her neck and face, which were covered with a gentle sheen of sweat. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, yet her tongue had snaked its way from the confinements of her mouth and was slowly carving smooth circles into the sensitive inner flesh of her top lip.

This was how Draco found her.

His initial reaction was anger. Was she really serious? What was that contraption that was capable of making her utter words only he'd ever brought from her lips? How long had this been going on?

His mild fury soon gave way to curiosity, and then detail. He'd never quite noticed how she turned her head from side to side, writhing against the pillows, how small and dainty her hands were, how adorable and utterly sexy she sounded, mewling to herself. He felt the smile pulling at his lips while watching her help herself; this was definitely the woman he had married: she was always capable of taking matters into her own hands. Quite literally, he found.

The smile fell as he realized that the reason she was working so hard was to fill the absence he had left. How long had this been going on? She had never mentioned such an intense loneliness while he was gone; on the eve of his return from most of his trips, she would kiss his cheek, tell him how she missed him so, and the normal hours of pleasurable entertainment would ensue, perhaps with a bit more vigor, afterwards. She never desperately clung to him as soon as he crossed the threshold, dying to get beneath his clothes as soon as she was in his arms. She would simply discuss his trip with him, talk about any plans the two of them had, and sometimes fill him in on any juicy gossip he had missed. She had never, he was certain, mentioned how she spent hours in their chamber pleasuring herself.

It was in the middle of these thoughts that he heard his name. It was merely a whisper, perhaps a mewling, but he heard it; zoning back in on his beautiful wife, he found she had slipped her hand up her abdomen and into the lacy contraption on her chest, sliding the fabric aside to tease her own perky nipple, eyes closed all the while.

Well, that did it. He simply couldn't leave this gorgeous woman to suffer from his lack of presence. So quietly, so as not to disturb her current fantasies, he slid the belt out of his trousers and unbuttoned his shirt with so high a speed Nike would be envious. He kicked off his shoes and socks, tiptoeing to the foot of the bed, where he evaluated the situation at hand and calculated his exact interference. He could tell by the frequency of her mewls and the restless curling of her toes that she was nearing her completion; he smirked as he thought this, flashing through many images in his mind of his body bringing hers to this particular edge. He rolled his head on his neck and descended upon the bed with feline grace, careful not to disturb her.

"Oh," she was mewling, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, her tongue darting to the corner of her mouth as she fought to keep her breath. He ducked his head down, level with the greatest candy his tongue had ever feasted on, and crept up the mattress, so silently. At last there was a pause, so brief, but not too fast for him, where her movements ceased so she could exchange hands, and he swooped in to take his chance. At the same moment, he jerked her wrist aside and swept his tongue in such a precise way that, both the shock of his sudden presence and the sweetness of his unexpected touch, caused her beloved toy to fall right out of her boneless fingers and clatter to the floor.

"Draco!" she gasped, her hand brushing through his platinum locks to rest just behind the curve of his left ear, her handhold for him. He grinned and gave another good lick, his tongue pulling tricks she thought she hadn't felt in a good while, and her brain gave a giant wave of white fireworks.

"Hmm?" was his reply, his hands sneaking up the mattress to firmly grip her buttocks, sliding her body closer to his mouth. "Did you need something, darling?" he managed.

"Nuh - oh," she panted, her head falling back onto the pillows once more, her toes cracking as they curled in on themselves, her back arching just so.

That relentless tongue, she thought to herself, managing to raise her eyelids to glimpse his blonde head bobbing at the apex of her thighs. Just the sight made her body jerk, and she gave a reflexive rise of her hips, pressing ever closer. She relaxed the slightest bit for just a moment longer, until she could not take it anymore.

"Draco," she hissed, raising her head to pull the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Hmm?" he murmured contentedly, not raising his eyes. His fingers carved gentle, soothing circles into her flesh, and she almost sighed.

"No!" she cried out, feeling her body give its telltale jerks as it raced to the finish. She jerked his hair hard, pulling his head away.

"Ginny, what on earth - " he began, staring at her, so puzzled, until he realized with a boyish glee exactly what she wanted. The feral grin made its reappearance to his usually smirking lips as he pushed her back against the pillows, pulling her shirt aside to accommodate the skin to skin contact she craved.

"Since when do you wear boxers in bed?" she muttered, hurriedly pushing them down his perfect hips, her head pressed against his shoulder. While she struggled, his tongue darted against her skin, tasting the sweet salt of her neck as his hands slipped up her sides.

"Since when do you wear bras to bed?" he replied, quicksilver hands undoing and removing the contraption at the same moment he raised his hips away from her body, simultaneously removing both pesky articles of clothing.

"Doesn't matter," she muttered as she grappled at his back, pulling him closer to fall between her thighs, but he pulled away.

"Draco, what - "

He ignored her protest and cupped her face, capturing her lips in a kiss so sound that the breath whooshed from her lungs in a single gasp, creating heavenly murmurs in his ears. He used her distraction to his advantage and pulled her into his lap, forcing himself inside her in one fell swoop.

The guttural moan that escaped her vibrated against his lips until she pulled her face away, leaning her head against the side of his neck as her body rocked against his. Slowly, reverently, he smoothed his hands down her thighs to her calves, wrapping her legs around his back, drawing small circles on her own as he settled into their rhythm.

"So soothing," she breathed in his ear, her sighs like sweet breezes as he swayed his hips to their soft tempo. He arched his body into hers, slowly, using her hips as handles to grind against his body, causing her to gasp quietly and cling to him, her heart beating erratically in her chest.

The signs appeared before she was even aware of what was happening; this occurrence, this gentle smoothness, was not regular by any means, and so the building pressure in her abdomen so quickly caught her off guard. The spring wound tighter and tighter with every motion of his hips, and her sighs quickly slid into gentle hiccups and then cries of pleasure, her fingers bruising the white flesh beneath their tips.

Even when she had opened her eyes and cleared her vision, he didn't speed his processes. He cupped her face and kissed her softly, his body grinding harder into hers with pleasurable precision, until he too was panting heavily and leaning against her, holding tightly with his face pressed into the crook of her shoulder.

They didn't move for some time. He drew his fingers up and down her back slowly, until the gooseflesh he had risen had long calmed and her breathing became more deep and even.

"Oh, darling," he whispered, pulling away from her, readjusting her plush body to be cradled in his lap. He rose the duvet until it was tucked around them, rolling her just so that he could spoon around her, every part of their bodies touching.

He kissed her shoulder, her back, her neck, the shell of her ear; he whispered quietly to her of his love, and she smiled, until her ear caught the sly sneak of the word 'sorry.'

"Sorry for what?" she mumbled, rolling to face him, and he smiled, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Well, a few things, Ginny," he laughed, pulling his hand through her messy locks.

"Do tell," she suggested, snuggling further into his chest as he cleverly wound his leg around hers.

"I'm sorry for leaving you here, all alone. I'm sorry for not being able to give you what you need. I'm sorry I never thought of these things. I'm - "

"Draco," she interjected, touching his face. "It's alright. What matters most is that you're here now, you don't have to be sorry for that."

She briefly noticed the way his head hung just a little after she said that, and his eyes slipped from hers to her mouth.

"I do believe I'm going to be sorry later, though," he told her, cupping his hand around the back of her head.

"Why's that?" she breathed, letting her eyes drift half closed as he pulled her gently forward.

"I seem to have broken your toy," he smirked, before capturing her lips in a kiss so searing and awe striking that she hadn't the heart to tell him about the warranty.

~fin

Was it massive suckness? Ah, well, it was worth a try. Maybe I should stick to fluff. Hmm.