Daily Deviant
- there is no such thing as 'too kinky'
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4th April 2016 12:00 - Banging Birthday Fic: Sometimes It Pays to Lose (Fred/George/Ginny/Charlie)
Birthday Wish Fulfilled for: [info]lilmisblack
From: A Magnificent Member

Title: Sometimes It Pays to Lose
Characters/Pairings: Fred, George, Ginny, & Charlie in various combinations (references to past Bill)
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: incest
Other Warnings/Content: betting, anal fingering, anal sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, foursome, watching, masturbation
Word Count: 4,515 words
Summary/Description: Summers can be long and boring at the Burrow, and the summer leading up to Bill's wedding is the worst with constant chores. When Ginny realizes that Fred and George are actually having fun she wants in. So she gets in, and over her head, and Fred thinks that works out just fine.
Author's Notes: Weasleycest is one of my favorite things to write, and I’m so glad I was able to create this for you. All the <3 to you for this prompt, dear recipient!!

“I want in.”

Ginny carefully closes the door to the twins’ room after she speaks, stands there with her arms crossed, waiting.

Fred glances at George and his twin just shrugs. “Could be worse timing,” George says.

“Could be better.” Fred shifts slightly, holds Ginny’s gaze so it doesn’t drop down to where his trousers aren’t quite loose enough when he sits. “And just what is it you think you want in on, little sister?”

“Whatever it is you’re doing that makes you so happy to be doing every bloody little thing Mum wants done before the wedding.” Ginny flops onto the bed in their room, leaning back on her hands, head tilted to one side. Her jeans are old, too tight and cut off above the knee, ripped just enough that Fred wonders how they’re being held together. And her shirt is bloody thin, thin enough that he can’t think Mum’s seen her today or else she would’ve made her change. Or maybe Mum’s just so pre-occupied with the wedding plans that she hasn’t even noticed.

Yeah, it’s probably that. Mum’s pre-occupation has been a blessing and torture all at once, but Fred and George are good at working around Mum’s moods.

“What makes you think—”

“—we’re up to something?” George finishes the sentence, but Fred nods with him, echoing the shrug this time, hands spread in innocence.

“Mum assigned you six tasks, and you did them bloody brilliantly without complaining, then rushed up here.” Ginny sits up, leans forward and looks at them both. Her gaze drops, very deliberately, to the place where Fred’s prick makes a half-hard ridge against his trousers. “Yesterday I heard you moaning.”

“We were quiet!”

“We set wards.”

Ginny holds something up, and Fred groans. Damned by their own product. “I have an Extendable Ear,” she grins. “So go on then, finish what you started.” She waves her fingers, leans back on the bed with one leg bent, body splayed.

“What about you?” George undoes the fly of his trousers, stares at her while he strokes it as if daring her to say something, but all she does is lick her lips. “You want in, you’re in all the way, little sister.”

There’s a flush staining Ginny’s cheeks, rose under the heavy spray of freckles. It drifts low, disappearing under the collar of her thin shirt, and Fred wonders if her tiny tits are flushed too. She doesn’t hesitate—brave as ever, his little sister—just yanks open her fly and pushes the fabric down, leaving herself in a little scrap of knickers that look like they’re already wet. “Are there rules?” she asks, fingers drifting over the curve of her mound.

Fred pushes his own trousers down, gets his prick in his hands. He’s back to full hardness, leaking from the tip when he pushes the foreskin down. “Can’t look away from each other. Can’t stop. Last one to get off wins.”

“What do we win?” Ginny’s not shy, her finger dipping under the fabric, pushing it aside so that Fred can see the glistening pink of her lips, almost hidden by a rusty red fur that’s a shade lighter than his own.

“Orgasm is its own reward,” George intones, and Fred smacks him. George grunts at the impact, hand going tight around his prick as he pulls harder, and Fred licks his lips, thinking about the potential future uses of that reaction.

“Winner gets to give half his chores to the loser,” Fred says. “Plus, as George pointed out, a brilliant orgasm that’s only made better by delaying the pleasure.”

Ginny’s breath hitches as she rolls her finger over the nub at the top of her slit. “Having more people makes it better then,” she whispers, each word catching as she fucks herself slowly with one finger. “Split the chores among the losers.”

“Mm.” It sounds reasonable, and Fred doesn’t have many more words after that. Even if he could look away—and he won’t bloody well break the rules—he would still hear the small sounds that George always makes when he wanks, little whimpers and moans. And there’s the soft squish of Ginny’s fingers in her fanny; she’s got three of them in there now, driving in deep while she rubs her clit with her thumb and stares at Fred and George, daring them to do something.

Fred licks his lips, and Ginny twitches.

“Promise?” she asks, and he catches himself nodding before George shoots a look at him.

“It’s not like you and I haven’t touched each other,” Fred protests, his hand rolling over the head of his own cock, and George grunts and comes, spilling thick white fluid in spurts across the floor.

Ginny’s fingers stop, and Fred groans softly. “Don’t stop.” He’s close, he’s so bloody close, but if she’s trying to delay then she’s even closer. Ginny whines, fingers moving slowly, and Fred tries to echo that slow speed, using his foreskin to wank himself, thrusting into his own hand.

“I could lick you, if you’re first done with the chores,” Fred whispers, hips jerking when Ginny’s breath shudders, when he sees her hips judder as well, fucking forward. “You lose now, you take half my chores, and if you still finish before me, I will fuck you with my tongue until you’ve come.”

“Twice.” The word is choked off, a cry barely withheld.

“Twice,” Fred agrees, and he sees his sister’s eyes roll back, her entire body shivering as she shoves half her hand into her soaking twat and comes with a whimpering cry.

He follows only a second later, his hand covered in sticky fluid as the orgasm shudders through him.

Ginny shimmies back into her jeans, buttoning her soaked fanny away. She touches George’s cheek, leans in to kiss him quickly, then offers her fingers to Fred. He licks at them, tastes the musk on her skin, sucks one into his mouth and is gratified to see her flush intensify.

“Have fun cleaning yourselves up.” She’s halfway out the door when she turns back to smirk, and Fred still has his dick in his hand and is covered in mess. “I’m off to go get my chores done. I’ll see you out at the broom shed when you’ve finally managed to finish yours up, yeah?” Her grin is pure imp as she waves and darts out.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not fair,” Fred grumbles, but George laughs and the sound is brilliant.

“Maybe not. But it’s going to be fun,” George says, and Fred can’t really disagree.


Fred leans against the doorway to the broom shed. He hasn’t started this round of chores yet, but that’s fine. There are some bets he doesn’t mind losing, and besides, Ginny has more chores than him. He figures he has one wee little errand to run first, someone else who ought to know.

“Gin’s in,” he says, and Charlie looks up in some surprise.

“Gin’s in what?” he asks, pushing to his feet. Charlie’s a bloody handsome one, not nearly as tall as Fred and George, but broader through the shoulders and pure muscle across his chest. It’s enough to give Fred all kinds of wrong thoughts.

“Ginny figured out the game,” Fred says patiently. “Won’t be long before she figures out you’re in on it, too.”

Charlie’s eyebrows go up, and he reaches for a shirt. “Is she, then? Well, that’s going to change things up. Is she all in, or did she just catch the two of you wanking at each other and threaten to tell Mum?”

“She didn’t threaten to tell anyone.” Fred nudges the door closed before he tells Charlie what happened, not leaving out a detail. He doesn’t miss the way Charlie’s hand curls around the line of his rigid prick, presses against his arousal.

“She’s currently got two orgasms and my tongue riding on whether she finishes her chores before me,” Fred tells him.

“Which is why you’re here instead of getting work done?” A quick smirk from Charlie, and Fred shakes his head.

“Nope, offering to get you in on this round. You get done faster than me, and you can fuck me while I eat her out,” he says. “And if I get done faster than you, I’m getting my chance at your arse.”

“And what makes you think you’ve got any more of a chance than you’ve had any other summer?” Charlie’s laugh is a rumble, and oh, that makes Fred ache. He wonders what Ginny’s going to think of it, seeing Charlie’s thick cock disappearing into Fred’s arse.

It’s not right, not at all, but who the fuck else is here? This is how it’s been, ever since Charlie brought the twins in on the game, summer before their last year of Hogwarts. It doesn’t mean anything, just a bit of fun.

“I’m faster this year.” Fred finally answers the question, but he’s sure Charlie knows he’s lying. Sometimes it pays to lose.


Fred divides his chores in half, then gives half of them away to Ginny and George. He works meticulously on polishing the silver and degnoming the garden (again), and when Charlie silently hands him a broom, Fred starts in on cleaning the stairs as well. By the time he’s done, the house is empty except for Mum.

“Dinner’s in an hour,” she tells him, taking the broom and sending it to the closet where it belongs. “Now go on out for a bit of a fly. Your brothers and sister are waiting for you.”

“We’ll be back in plenty of time.” Fred leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek, receives a fond pat on his shoulder and a quick hug before he escapes.

He’s late, and they’re waiting for him.

Which means it’s going to be bloody brilliant.

Ginny meets him halfway there, dropping out of a tree and onto the path next to him, skipping sideways and turning around to walk backwards so she can see him as she talks. “You’re slow, Freddy. I’ve been waiting.”

“I thought you’d be at the broom shed,” Fred counters. “Getting ready.”

She laughs, a quick bright sound. “I’m ready. George is ready. Charlie’s ready. Or getting ready. George lost a bet.”

“Oh?” Fred doesn’t have to ask what George is doing; that part’s easy to figure out. “What bet?”

“They were putting up the tent in the yard, and George said that he’d get his part done faster because anything dealing with erection is his specialty.” Ginny snickers. “Bill helped Charlie and thinks I didn’t see.”

Or maybe Bill knew that Ginny was watching and did it so she would see. Fred’s pretty sure that the only reason Bill’s not involved in the game this summer is because Fleur would have his balls if she found out, and he knows just how fond Bill is of his own bollocks.

Thing is, Bill’s no longer bored out of his bloody mind, and he’s got someone to take care of those bollocks for him on a regular basis. Unlike the rest of them, who are left to play games with each other. It’s a pity. Fred rather liked Bill’s bollocks, wrong as it was.

He nudges the door to the broom shed open, pushing it right to the point where it starts to squeak, then holding it while Ginny scoots past him. Fred closes the door carefully, puts a light locking spell on it. It won’t stop someone from coming in if they want to push past the lock, but it’ll give them time to put themselves to rights if they have to.

And Ginny was right—this party has already started.

Charlie leans back against the wall, one hand gripping an empty rack, the brooms scattered around the edge of the room. He’s completely starkers, his prick thick and almost as red as the thatch of hair between his legs. Charlie has his other hand tangled in George’s hair, fingers white from gripping so hard as George swallows him down. Charlie twists a little, fucking into George’s mouth, and Fred’s heart clutches at the whining sound his twin makes.

“Oh.…” Ginny’s mouth hangs open, her tongue flicking out to graze her lips. “Oh….”

“He’s a big one,” Fred says quietly. “Feels sodding brilliant going in, like being stretched more than a bloke could imagine. Touches bloody everywhere.”

“You let him.…” She hesitates, one hand coming up to join her other in an evocative gesture. “With you?”

“Tongues, hands, pricks—it’s all fair game,” Fred says. “So tell me, Gin, are you still in? Because if you are, you’ll want to strip and get down on that floor. We have to hurry up; won’t be long before Mum’s wondering why she doesn’t see us flying on the field.”

It’s only partly a tease to make her move quickly, see if she’s as anxious as she said she was to be licked. Fred knows that Mum’s patience only goes so far, and she’ll come looking for them soon enough with another round of tasks to be done, and Fred doesn’t want to get caught.

“Time is of the essence,” Charlie murmurs, gaze locked on Ginny. “If you’re in, you’re in. Otherwise we’re binding you with a promise not to breathe a word of this, and you’re leaving now so I can fuck Freddie’s sweet arse.”

Her mouth snaps shut, lips pressed together for a quick moment before her tongue darts free again. “I’m in,” she says, and a flush suffuses her skin, disappearing beneath the edge of her top. Fred still wants to see how far it goes, and since she’s in, he figures that he can do just that.

Fred steps in close, tugs her shirt up just enough to let him touch her sides, fingers pressed lightly against her skin. “Ready?” he asks, and she nods with quick purpose. He skins the shirt over her head, leaves her dressed in a silly little scrap of a bra over freckles and flushed skin. Tiny little tits cupped in lace, her nipples hard enough to peek through the pale fabric. Fred can’t resist, so he cups one of them, flicks his thumb against the hard nub and is rewarded with a soft gasp.

“I thought you said something about licking me,” Ginny snaps, and Fred leans in closer, bends over enough to latch on to one nipple right through the fabric, suckling at it, soaking it until she grabs at his hair, whines low in her throat. “Lower,” she whispers, and Fred lets her go.

He can hear that George has stopped sucking Charlie, can hear just the shallow intake of breath and Fred imagines that Charlie and George are watching him and Ginny. Waiting to find their parts in how this plays out.

“Strip,” Fred says. “Strip and lie down. You won the bet, right? So let me pay up.”

It shouldn’t feel this good. He knows that, knows that the fact that he’s hard already while he watches his sister unhook her bra and peel it off is so very wrong. But he can’t deny that she’s fit. Trim hips, almost boyish, and those cute tits with tightly pointed nipples. There are freckles everywhere across her breasts and belly, a scatter pattern that disappears underneath the bit of lace she’s wearing for knickers.

It reminds him of Ron, that pervasive rush of freckles everywhere. Fred and George have them across their shoulders and faces, and a small bit on the back. Bill’s got them down his back to his bum, but nothing on his chest, and Charlie’s only got them on his face and forearms.

But Ginny’s are everywhere, like tiny dots screaming lick me.

So Fred does, following her to the floor, pressing his tongue onto dot after dot across her belly and breasts. She squirms at first, her fingers fisting in his hair, and he thinks she’s trying to push him away. He lifts his head, meeting her gaze, about to ask if she’s okay, but her brown eyes are wide, mouth set in a determined line as she drags him to her breast, arching up against his mouth, and yeah… she’s whining under his tongue, definitely okay.

“Our Gin’s loud,” Charlie murmurs. “Go on then, George. Give her something to keep her quiet.”

Fred works his way down her body, tonguing at the freckles on her belly, teasing every single one before tracing a path to the next. He glances up to see her looking sideways, where George lies down next to her. George doesn’t force himself into her mouth, but he lies there, offering his dripping prick within reach, shuddering when Ginny reaches tentative fingers, wraps her small hand around George’s thick length.

“Please,” George whispers, and Fred swears he can feel it when Ginny fits her mouth around the head of George’s prick, takes him in slowly, her hand jacking the part of him that she can’t fit in her mouth.

It’s sodding beautiful, is what it is, seeing his sister take care of his twin like that.

Ginny pulls back, just for a moment. “Two orgasms,” she reminds Fred. “At least.”

He doesn’t answer; there’s no real need. He simply slides his tongue along the cut of her hip, traces the soft skin to where her curls hide damp folds, ready and waiting for him. Fred uses his fingers to part her lips, exposing the hooded clit so that he can flick his tongue against it until she bucks her hips up, and George groans loudly.

Charlie chuckles. There’s warmth behind him as Fred kneels and Charlie fits himself into the space against his thighs, thick cock rubbing in the cleft of Fred’s arse. He’s nowhere near ready, but he trusts Charlie to do something about that, and a moment later when something slick and wet presses against his hole, Fred sighs and tries to relax.

Fred focuses on Ginny—on the salty taste, and the fresh flood of warm, slick fluid when he pushes two fingers inside of her. He crooks his fingers, twisting and stroking while he suckles at her clit. She’s so soft and wet; he thinks she’s close as she grabs at his head, shoves his face in her fanny while she pushes up against him. He tries to fuck her everywhere with his tongue, pushing in next to his fingers, sliding up to her clit. Her knees come up around his head and clamp in tightly with the force of her orgasm.

Charlie chooses that moment to work three fingers into Fred, twisting them to open him wide. It’s not enough—fingers are never really enough to prepare him for Charlie—but it’s so good. He tries to breathe through it, air ghosting over Ginny’s thigh when he turns his head to the side, waits for her to relax. He presses kisses on her skin, lets her recover from the orgasm while Charlie fucks him open slowly.

Ginny is lax and limp, a smile tilting her mouth as George feeds his prick into her. She has one hand curled under his balls, the other clutching his arse, and Fred thinks he can see one small finger pressing against George’s hole.

“Go on,” Fred whispers. “George likes it like that, his cock in your mouth while you shove a finger or two up his bum. Not too far, he doesn’t love being properly fucked, not like I do. He’d rather have just enough to stretch and burn. Do that and he’ll unload down your throat in just a few strokes.”

Fingers slide out of Fred’s arse, replaced by a blunt, thick object. Charlie. Fred inhales, lets it out as he forces his body loose and easy, focusing back on Ginny’s skin. He idly licks her, slides two fingers inside of her and strokes slowly. Her clit is still swollen and oversensitive, but he laps at it anyway to feel her hips jump, hear the whine of protest and desire. He pushes a third finger in, twists them further, and she groans, sucking George in further as her finger tightens on George’s bum.

George shudders, going still. He’s close, Fred can see it, but he’s holding back.

Like they’ve both said, it only gets better when they delay the pleasure.

“You’re so good,” Charlie murmurs, large hands sliding over the curve of Fred’s arse. “Taking me in like this.” A hand wraps firmly around Fred’s prick, strokes him with slick fingers. “Still hard, too. You like being filled like this. Pity our Ginny can’t see you.” He pushes in until he’s balls deep, and Fred feels the heat of Charlie’s thighs against his own. “Take a break, George. Help Ginny sit up so she can watch.”

They have to change everyone’s position to pull it off. Ginny ends up sitting in George’s lap, his cock nestled between the cheeks of her ass, his hands playing with her perky little tits. Fred has his head down, buried in her fanny, tonguing her as she whines. And Charlie meets her gaze over Fred’s back; Fred can see the way she looks back at Charlie, locks gazes with him as Charlie pulls back and pushes into Fred, making him rock forward, fuck her harder on his fingers.

“Do you think Harry’s had our sister like this?” Charlie wonders aloud, hips snapping as he fucks into Fred. “Do you think he’s fucked her fanny? Maybe he’s thought about fucking her ass. What do you think, Fred?”

Fred lets his fingers drift. His hand is soaked with her juices and he slides easily over the pucker of her arse, fingers tangling with George’s prick as he slides idly between her cheeks. Ginny bucks under his touch, cries out before George gets his hand over her mouth, slides two fingers between her lips for her to suck on.

“She’s never had anything there,” Fred murmurs as he presses just the tip against the puckered hole, feeling how it gives way enough to let him slide in, one knuckle deep. He rotates it and she clenches around the fingers in her fanny, a fresh burst of slick covering his hand as she shivers through another orgasm.

“Give her a third,” Charlie says, and Fred doesn’t let up. He has three fingers in her fanny, one in her arse, and George is there too, sliding against her. She wriggles and moves, begging for release, and Fred latches on to her clit, suckling at it to distract himself from the way Charlie is so deep inside of him, making his thighs shake with every thrust.

Charlie wanks him while he fucks, and it’s too much for Fred. He loses his rhythm as Ginny comes again, her body limp in the aftermath.

George gets one hand under Ginny’s bum, lifts her up just enough to expose his prick to Fred’s mouth, and Fred swallows him down. He groans around George, letting Charlie decide how he moves, swaying between the two of them until it’s too much and Fred comes, spurting all over Charlie’s hand and swallowing quickly as George empties himself into Fred’s throat.

Charlie finishes last, thrusting into Fred’s loose body as Fred lies cradled in George’s arms, Ginny between them. Fred idly flicks his tongue against Ginny’s nipple, and she swats at his head.

“Enough,” she tells him, and he stops.

Charlie slides out with a pat to Fred’s aching bum. “Might have time to get up in the air before Mum comes up with another round of chores,” he points out as he searches for his discarded clothes, tossing the things that aren’t his into separate piles for Fred, Ginny, and George. “If you think you can manage to sit on a broom.”

“Just rode yours, didn’t I?” Fred counters, even though he’s absolutely unwilling to fly at this moment.

Ginny nudges at Fred and he sits back, giving her the space she needs to slip out from between him and George. Her skin is still flushed, and he can smell her arousal. She moves a little gingerly, and Fred can imagine the ache she feels. He’s in no hurry to start walking around himself; he’ll be feeling Charlie’s cock for the next several hours at the very least.

Ginny tugs her knickers up, fastens her bra and scoops her small tits into place. “I know for a fact that Mum has another list planned for after dinner. Wedding’s in just a few days, after all.” She pulls her shirt down and stands there, like she’s not still half-undressed, hands on her hips. “I have a bet.” She tilts her head, a small smile starting to tilt the corners of her lips. “If you’re willing to risk it.”

Fred uses the back of his hand to wipe the slick from his face. George is standing up, tucking his prick into his pants, and Fred grabs his own pants to pull them up.

“Tell us what it is,” Charlie orders, and Ginny laughs, shaking her head.

“Scared?” she taunts.

“Never,” George declares. “I’m in.”

Her grin is purely wicked. “Good.” She glances at Fred and Charlie, and they each nod slowly. Whatever is, Fred can handle it. His baby sister can’t possibly come up with something worse than Bill had managed once or twice in the past.

They all finish getting dressed, and Ginny waits until they’re done before she says quietly. “This is the plan. When Mum hands out the chores, I’ll divide mine into four sets. You each get one set, and I get the last fourth. Whoever finishes before me gets a chance at my bum tonight after everyone else is in bed. If I finish before any of you, I get your bum.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Charlie asks with a low laugh.

Ginny’s gaze drifts to Fred, and he knows what she’s going to say seconds before she says it. “What kind of little sister would I be if I hadn’t already broken into Fred’s special toy chest ages ago?” she asks. “I’m pretty sure I can find what I need there.”

He can’t deny it, simply shrugs when the others look at him. “Guess we’ll just have to be done first,” he says, and George and Charlie agree quickly.

The thing is, Fred knows how to do this, knows how to win the way he wants to. He’ll take on a few chores from Charlie when he asks, help George out a bit. He’ll make sure they finish before Ginny. After all, it doesn’t matter if he’s last. It’s something new, something different, and he can see the way she’s looking at him as they walk out of the shed. She’s thinking about it, and she’ll be thinking about it all evening.

Fred flashes her a grin, and she looks away, unsettled. But she’ll come round; she knows what she’s offering. Might be wrong, but she wants to do it.

And as for Fred, well, like he said: sometimes it pays to lose.
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