Sally Drabbles #11: Soccer
For @essthedreamer​, who not only gave me a prompt but also generously brainstormed it with me. Sorry for the delay, my lovely - I hope this fits your non-magical Gin’n’Tonic billing!
“Look out!” Ginny yelled, as the ball went sailing over the crossbar towards the stands, where a dark-haired man sat with his head bent over a book. He looked up at her shout, just in time for the ball to hit him in the face.
Hard.
Ginny winced as he raised his hand to his face, scowling as his fingers came away bloodstained.
“Oh shit,” Angelina said as she came to a halt beside her. “Did you just break Tom Riddle’s nose?”
Ginny shrugged, shifting uncomfortably as she watched Tom get slowly to his feet. She hadn’t meant to get him.
She hadn’t.
He cast one dark look down towards the pitch before he picked his way up the stairs and disappeared.
“You’re in trouble,” Angelina said, making no effort to hide her laughter.
“Fuck off,” Ginny said, kicking petulantly at the turf.
“Language,” Angelina smirked, “Don’t let Hooch hear you, or you’ll get banned again.”
Ginny muttered something under her breath that would definitely have resulted in Hooch banning her, and Angelina laughed as she turned to jog back up the field.
They had the pitch for another hour, and Ginny cruised her way through the drills, her mind only half on the game.
She’d been furious with him for being there. Weeks of barely speaking to her, and then he turned up at her soccer practice. It was so fucking unfair how he thought he could just do that.
He’d deserved it, she told herself. He was an arsehole, and he deserved it.
She smiled vaguely at some joke that Alicia made as they headed back towards the changing rooms, agreed to meet up with Padma and exchange lecture notes later that week, and then pulled a book from her bag as she waited for a shower to free up.
The changing room emptied around her as her teammates gradually trickled away to tutorials, or lectures, or lunch plans, until suddenly Ginny looked up and realised that she was alone.
She shoved her book back into her bag, stripping off her now-clammy kit and wrapping herself in her towel. She grabbed her washbag and made her way towards the showers.
Thankfully there was still hot water, and Ginny lathered her hair up, sighing with relief as the heat started to work on the tension in her shoulders. She turned to face the spray, leant her head back, and hit something solid.
He slipped his hand over her mouth, pulling her against him as his other hand snaked over her hip. Ginny gasped against his fingers, trying to wriggle herself free, but his grip was too tight.
The cotton of his shirt stuck to her wet skin. She could smell the blood on his face.
“Did you think that was funny?” he whispered.
His hand twitched itself lower on her belly, and Ginny pushed up on her tiptoes, arching into him.
“Answer me,” he snarled, biting her earlobe.
“Yes,” Ginny gasped, “Yes, I did.”
Tom made a growling sound, and suddenly he was pushing her against the wall, the cool tile shocking against her heated skin. The water was still on, spilling over Tom’s head and down across Ginny’s cheek as she turned her face and bit at his lip.
She reached around to him, fingers quick and practised as she undid his fly, and then Tom was shimmying his jeans down his thighs and his rock-hard length was against her.
Ginny made to turn towards him, but found that she was pinned. “No,” Tom said simply, before he thrust roughly into her from behind.
She gave a gasp, shocked and furious and oh God, yes.
Tom was whispering terrible things in her ear, threats and curses and if you ever do that again and Ginny could only moan deep in her throat, reaching back and curling her hands in his hair and I won’t, I won’t, I will, more, please.
He twisted her long hair into a rope around his fist, yanking her head back and kissing her as he rubbed her clit rhythmically and Ginny felt herself tighten around him, felt the tension in her nerves explode as she came with a shout into his mouth.
Tom thrust into her twice more then gave a shuddering groan and leant his head forward over her shoulder to rest against the tile.
“Are we done fighting now?” he said quietly, when they both had their breath back.
“If you want,” Ginny replied.
She felt him shift against her, felt his smile against her cheek. “I don’t even remember what it was about.”
Ginny huffed a laugh, turned her head and flicked her tongue over the dried blood that still stained his upper lip. “I said you wouldn’t know good soccer if it hit you in the face.”
