Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
Kinky Kristmas Fic: "What Herold Knew" (Arthur/Ginny) 
23rd December 2010 12:00
Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: [info]madeyemax
From: [info]pre_raphaelite1

Title: “What Herold Knew”
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Ginny
Rating: R
Kinks/Themes Included: loving incest, ageplay, mild D/s
Other Warnings/Content: Snogging!
Word Count: ~1500
Summary/Description: In which Ginny stays up too late.
Author's Notes: Happy Kinky Kristmas to you, mysterious Weasleycest fan! I hope this sweet little fic brings you some joy! It's not nearly as pervy as I normally write, and I had some trouble picking the pairing from all the lovely Weasley men you gave as options, but hopefully this fits your Kristmas wish! Enjoy!


It was long after midnight when Arthur found her, curled up on the sofa, dressed in a soft flannel nightdress with tiny purple pearl buttons. Her arms were wrapped tightly around a plush unicorn, worn from the years it had been so constantly carried, dragged, washed, stained, dropped, and washed again. The fire in the grate was still burning, but with only in low flickers of faint orange over darkly smoldering coals. He sighed and bent to her, hand reaching out to settle on her shoulder and give her a light jostle.

“Ginny. C'mon. You can't sleep here.”

Her eyes slitted open, the firelight reflected in them and he half-expected her to hiss at him. Instead she whimpered rather pitifully.

“Up you go, love.”

Ginny's lower lip protruded a bit more but rather than moving she dropped the unicorn to the floor and looped her arms behind his neck and pulled him down. To avoid the strain on his back he lowered himself to one knee.

“Don'wanna get up.” She nuzzled her face into his throat, not releasing him. “Stay here... Please?”

It was unclear if she wanted him to stay or she wanted to stay or both. “It's almost one in the morning, Ginny....”

He trailed off as her lips, small and pouting, slid up his throat to his ear, along the curve of it in the barest of touches.

Please, Daddy,” she whispered to his ear. “I promise to be good.”

Ginny,” he groaned back as her lips were followed by a delicate swipe of her tongue. “That's not being good.”

She sighed, and he shivered lightly when her breath rushed over his ear, then she flopped back onto the sofa. “Stay a bit. No one else is up. Please?”

He looked at her, expression all petulance and hope. He knew that there was little chance of refusing her when she pleaded with him like that, never had been. “Fine, but twenty minutes only. Then it's to bed with you.”

Ginny smiled brightly at this then scooted to one edge of the sofa to give him room to sit down. He used his wand to float another log onto the fire before he moved onto the sofa with her. He hardly had his wand away before she was curled against him, one arm snugly looping his waist. A low, indulgent chuckle and he shifted his arm, settling it around her with his hand cupping her narrow shoulder.

“That's better,” she pronounced with the final certainty of a young girl convinced that all is right in her world, mostly because she's just gotten her way.

And Arthur knows it. He shakes his head at her, at himself, for all the indulgences he bestows upon her. This, his little girl. “Why are you out here and not in bed where you belong, Ginny?”

She shrugs a little against him, “Because I was waiting for you to come home.”

“You have to go to sleep at your bedtime. Even if I'm not here.”

“But I don' wanna,” she huffed at him, and he imagined her arms would have crossed over her chest if she were willing to release him.

“Ginny,” he said warningly.

So she switched tactics, voice soft, lips turning downward as she looked up at him from a fringe of ginger, “Don't you want to see me? Don't you want to cuddle with me?”

“Of course I do. But not when you're disobedient beforehand.” Still, he caressed her hair back from her face, fingers trailing through the curtain of silk that strayed against her freckled skin. The sound she made in response, that low rumble of catlike contentment, warmed him and he let his fingers stray over her cheek. She turned her head, just an inch, and kissed his palm.

“I'm sorry, Daddy. I promise to be better. I'll go to bed when I'm meant to.” Her breath tickled his skin once more, heated air stirring over his hand. “Just don't punish me now.”

“I should, you know.”

She nodded solemnly.

“I should turn you over my knee and paddle you for it.”

She whimpered and shifted against his side. “Daddy...

That was precisely the sort of reaction he wanted from her, so he laid his hand threateningly on her hip. Ginny gasped and stilled, her flannel-clad body tense, prepared to be struck for her impudence or the childish whine. Then he continued, “But it's nearly Christmas and it's late. This would only keep you up later if I did.”

Slowly inhaling, Ginny nodded once more then exhaled just as gradually.

“So instead we'll stay here and watch the fire.” It had, with the addition of the log, crackled into a steady, hot flicker, lighting the room with an orange glow. He glanced down at his daughter, at the bow of her head against him and hunch of her shoulders under her nightdress. At the bend of her legs and the faded purple of her fuzzy socks. Then back up along the long row of tiny purple buttons, passing her knees and stomach then between the low rise of barely-there breasts. His gaze lingered for a moment, two moments, before settling once more on her face. She was smiling, tenderly and adoringly, up at him.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too. And just what do you think you're doing?”

Her hand froze just at the waistband of his trousers and she blinked innocently up at him. “Nothing?”

“Oh really?”

With wide eyes, she shook her head with exaggerated slowness. “Nothing at all.”

“I should hope not, young lady.”

She giggled and wriggled closer to him. “Maybe I was going to tickle you?”

He chuckled quietly, but spoke firmly,“No tickling.”

“Fine.” Ginny pushed up against him, chin lifting and she met his gaze. “Kiss me.

The position was slightly awkward but he did, bending as he could to brush his lips over her forehead, which wrinkled only a moment later.

“Not there. Here.” She touched her lips lightly. “Please?”

He hesitated then cupped her chin gently and met her mouth with his own, careful, soft, paternal. But she pressed into it with an undisguised eagerness, lips parting with a whimper under his. He pulled back just enough to murmur her name but she chased his mouth, cutting off any further words. Eyes closing, he allowed himself to melt into the kiss, just so, just enough. He opened his mouth to her questing tongue then pressed it back with his own. She moaned around the stroke of his tongue once it filled her mouth. His fingers combed through her hair, closing around the red strands, and she moaned once more, prompting him to finally break the kiss. When she tried to resume it, he tugged at her hair, forcing her to keep the distance.

“No more. Take Herold and go to your room.”

“Just five more minutes?”

“Ginny....”

Her hand slid down his chest, over his stomach, then lower, lower, warm and certain, experienced. He closed his hand on her slim wrist. “Ginny, no.

Sighing, she pulled her hand back. “Fine.” Then she scooped up the plush unicorn and stood up. He could see the tiny peaks of hard nipples under her nightdress, which he could see was far too short now that she was standing. The hem was halfway to her knees and completely unacceptable.

“That nightdress is really unacceptable. It's far too short, Ginny. We'll need to--....” He trailed off as she pulled the nightgown off and dropped it over the sofa.

“All right.”

“Put that back on, young lady!”

“You said it was unacceptable,” she reasoned sweetly before she walked out of the room, her pert arse swaying faintly at she did. “Good night, Daddy. I love you.”

He groaned, “Love you too.” Then he sunk heavily onto the sofa, his trousers far too tight for comfort now. At this whole exchange, at the ready press of her lithe body, the softness of the nightdress, the sounds she made, the insolence and the petulance. He gives himself a snug squeeze through his flies. He hated making her stop, loved her eagerness to please, found the rise and fall of her hand or mouth or body over his cock to be exquisite and just right. She was his little girl and her devotion was intoxicating and infinitely rewarding.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd be home earlier from the Ministry and they'd spend all evening in front of the fire, curled together and touching, kissing, loving as they had for so many years.

Provided she wasn't on the night shift at St Mungo's.
Comments 
23rd December 2010 18:18
So SWEET! And naughty, but so, so sweet! And I love that how it's written makes you kind of forget that it's ageplay. So naughty! X-) But just naughty enough; I love that it gives us a little taste of their relationship. It definitely makes me want more, though.

Thank you so much for this!
23rd December 2010 18:20
Wrong and sweet all at once!
24th December 2010 21:22
Very wrong but also sweet. Nicely done!
26th December 2010 16:49
This is exactly what it should be. Uncomfortable and hot and oddly sweet.
27th December 2010 10:12
Bad Arthur! Deliciously wrong and sweet.
27th December 2010 22:36
Oh so wrong. Heh. Very nice indeed!
8th March 2011 21:22
This is both so wrong and so right at the same time. I love it! The ageplay was gorgeous. Very well done. :)
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