There were good-humoured roars as Harry opened his present and held it up for them to see: a bumper-sized Skiving Snackbox with “Special Anti-Minister For Magic Warding!” emblazoned on the top. Hermione yelled, “I’m going to get you, George!” over the laughter.
“Not me!” George said, raising his hands in surrender. Hermione whipped round to look at Ron, who immediately crumbled into laughter and backed away.
“There’ll be nowhere to run later, dear husband,” she said.
“There’s nowhere now!” said Victoire, and she was quite right; even with a magical extension, the Weasley sitting room was crammed fit to burst. At this point Charlie felt his lack of progeny was something in the order of a public service.
Charlie’s dad was running the thing, and he handed Lucy a box wrapped in forest green. She smiled and unwrapped it. The box beneath was plain white, and about the right size for jewellery.
Lucy lifted off the lid and flinched. She shut the box again, flushing, as her cousins called for her to show them what she’d got. Lucy looked at her husband. He looked back at her, confused. Then she looked up at Charlie.
He delivered a slow smile worthy of any crocodile. He’d been waiting for this moment, and it played to perfection. Lucy’s cheeks flushed a painful red at his expression. He’d been so polite for months, played his chaperone role to perfection. Now Charlie let his eyes drip down her body, ravenous; let her see his eyes trace every remembered outline of her body, let memory infect his knowing grin.
She got away with not showing anyone the present, but Charlie didn’t register how; he was too busy remembering pushing her legs apart and eating her out, how her thighs had clenched as he’d forced her into orgasm. He’d been so restrained, knowing he couldn’t possibly get Lucy alone during her wedding day, or at Ginny’s fortieth. That had been fun in its own way. Lucy had kept glancing at him, blue eyes flickering in his direction all day, and he’d been carefully decorous. He thought she might even have wondered if she’d imagined it somehow.
Now he let himself leer while everyone else opened their Secret Santa gifts and Lucy avoided his eyes. Then it was brandy and board games, and Lucy took the opportunity to flee. Charlie gave her a carefully-timed fifteen minutes: you always wanted to give the dragons time to get settled in their nests, to feel comfortable in their home territory before you sprung up.
Thank Merlin she’d married, even if it was to someone so boring Charlie actively refused to learn his name. It meant that Lucy was almost the sole member of the new generation who didn’t have to share a room with any siblings or cousins. Only the husband could interrupt and he was firmly locked into a game of Oligarch downstairs: deathly dull, all about fiddly little facts, certain to last hours. Truly, women married their fathers.
He knocked at her bedroom door. “Come in,” she called brightly.
Charlie went in to find her bent over her suitcase, which was open on the bed. He couldn’t see the white box. “Hello.”
She jerked upright as he closed the door behind him. “Uncle Charlie!”
“Did - did you want something?” She was smiling uncertainly, smoothing down her dress. Charlie moved closer.
“Tried it out yet?”
“What? No!” She scowled at him, but her voice was breathless. Anxious, uncertain.
“Thrown it out then?”
She didn’t reply but he saw her eyes flicker to the side. Charlie took another step closer, until he was inches away from her. Lucy did nothing; she was frozen, eyes flickering as she waited to see what he’d do. She wasn’t willing to scream or shout or force him away; he was friendly Uncle Charlie, and she wouldn’t want to explain why that wasn’t true. So he’d just keep pushing, steady.
He didn’t touch her. He reached into her suitcase and rummaged amidst her dresses. A moment later he pulled out the white box. “Going to open it?”
“N-no.” Her eyes dropped to it though, and stayed glued there as Charlie flipped off the lid and pulled out the tiny, shining wooden vibrator.
It was small: just the length of his little finger. It wasn’t really meant to go inside her, though. It was rounded and smooth, and made of dark wood that made it seem expensive.
“No time like the present. I got you a nice gift, Lucy - I want to see you enjoy it.” Her cheeks were red with shame, her expression pained. But she was breathing faster, and he was willing to bet that under her clothes, her nipples were hard.
“Don’t, Uncle Charlie. It’s not - I can’t.”
“Of course you can, Lucy-girl.” He stroked his other hand up her thigh, soft and slow. He let his hand keep travelling, up and round until he reached the apex of her thighs. He slid two index fingers forward; just a little nudging and she’d opened her legs. Just a little bit. Just enough to let Charlie stroke her through tights and knickers.
“You can’t,” she said, an edge of hysteria in her voice. She didn’t move, standing frozen as he rubbed her through her clothes. “Tim - he could be up any minute - ”
“He won’t,” he said, an edge of scorn in his voice. “He’s playing board games with your dad. There’s no reason he ever has to know.”
She swallowed. The implicit threat wasn’t lost on her.
Charlie left off touching her for a moment. It pained him, but it was necessary: keep ratcheting things up a notch, don’t give her time to think. He reached for his wand instead, and waved it very precisely, murmuring a spell. A moment later Lucy gasped as she felt her tights and knickers vanish.
He reached under her dress. He kept looking into her face, not wanting to miss a moment, as he pressed the vibrator against her clit. “C’mon, Lucy. I gave you such a nice little present. You should let me see you enjoy it. That’s the best thing about present-giving.”
He murmured the spell and it sprang into life, vibrating against her clit. She cried out then put a hand over her mouth, horrified. Charlie chuckled. “Ssh. You’ll want to keep quieter than that.” Lucy was panting, eyes closing as she fought to shut out the pleasure. Charlie rubbed the round head of the vibrator against her, relentless. “I know you must be desperate for a good fuck, Lucy, given who you’ve married, but - ”
“Shut up!” Lucy said. There was fire in her wet eyes but she didn’t move. “Tim’s wonderful, he’s not - not t-twisted like you - ”
“That’s right, I’m filthy, nasty old Uncle Charlie,” he said mockingly. “You don’t like it at all.” He moved the vibrator in a slow circle and watched her eyes drop closed as she shuddered. “So if I look, you’re not gonna be wet?”
Blue eyes blinked open as he groped for his wand. Lucy sucked in a breath as she felt buttons unbutton and the tie round her waist undo itself. The dress didn’t vanish; it slowly unwrapped itself from her body. He looked her over and felt his face split in a ravenous grin.
She instinctively moved to cover herself, flushing. He could see now how the flush reached right down to her breasts. Lucy was still wearing her bra: a dull white, nothing worthy to be on her body. But that didn’t matter. She was gloriously naked, flushed and trembling and warm and ready for him to ravage.
Charlie clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms. Restraint. He’d got his head between her legs last time by keeping up restraint, by toeing the line even as the line shifted with every new liberty he took. He couldn’t spook her now.
“Sit on the bed, Lucy-girl. C’mon.” He spelled the suitcase out of her way. She obeyed almost instantly, and he crouched down in front of her. He hoped she was remembering how he’d made her buck and wail last time they were like this. For a moment he was painfully distracted by the throb of his cock, by her red curls and thick thighs and the quivering skin of her stomach.
He put his hands on her knees, stroking the soft skin under his thumbs. “Spread your legs.”
She made a half-choked sound of denial.
“C’mon now,” he said softly. “Let’s see. I don’t wanna push you too far, darling, so I want to know what’s really going on.”
She closed her eyes, lashes trembling above her scarlet cheeks, and opened her thighs.
She obeyed, and Charlie spread her lips to see glistening slick. He slid two fingertips against her hole, not quite slipping in, just testing. She was unmistakably wet.
“Ah. Now, Lucy, we’ll have no more lies from you, all right? We both know what you want.” He paused, and for long moments the only sound was both of them panting. Charlie waited, patient as a snake, until Lucy made herself look at him. He pointed at her bra. “Off.”
She bit her lip, then reached up to undo the bra. Charlie almost came right there, knowing he’d won. That was surrender, Lucy sliding off the bra herself to reveal those gorgeous heavy tits. That meant no more holding himself back, teasing and pressing her into taking new steps herself. That meant he’d won.
He lunged onto the bed, pressing her backwards. She gave a startled cry, wriggling under him instinctively. Charlie gave no quarter, diving to get one nipple between his teeth, holding her against him.
“What’re you doing?”
“Come on, Lucy.” He ripped at his fly, shoving his jeans and boxers down. “I got you off, remember? You owe me one.”
He spread her legs - she went so easily, made pliant by surprise - and fucking finally slid inside her. It was like a punch to the chest, the first time getting his cock inside her. Charlie’s whole body felt hot. Her cunt clung to him, her inner muscles pulsing around him. He made a choked sound, not sure he could form words. Her stunned face was below his, her legs spread awkwardly round his thighs, and he could already tell she was going to come.
She was breathing in harsh little pants, and the slick sounds of sex were filling the room. He pinched a nipple and she shuddered, crying out. Her hands had fisted in the sheets on either side of her head; Charlie thought she didn’t know whether she wanted to hold onto him or not. He kept fucking her, harder and harder, putting his not inconsiderable muscle into it. And Lucy began to unfreeze, finally showing a little more of the wild side he’d known was there. She was shifting her hips, matching the rhythm he set.
Charlie could hardly see, consumed by her cunt, the feel of her around him. The knowledge that he’d got in his fuckable little niece at last, on the bed she was sharing with her anodyne new husband. He’d get to spend dinner eyefucking her, knowing she was slowly soaking her nice white knickers with his come and her own wetness.
She was whimpering now, almost thrashing beneath him. Charlie put his hand over her mouth to muffle her cries, and with the other hand reached awkwardly for her clit. He’d barely brushed her when she came: crying out against his palm, her eyes rolling above his hand, long shudders wracking her and tightening her round his cock.
Charlie gritted his teeth and kept fucking her through it, fighting not to come. He didn’t want this to be over yet; it was too soon. And she kept quivering under him, whining as he continued, sliding his cock mercilessly along her sensitive skin and keeping her nerves ajangle with pleasure.
The sounds she was making were killing him. Before long, he couldn’t hold out any longer; he came into her, ablaze with the idea of it, of leaving her dripping with him.
No time to enjoy the afterglow; it had taken a satisfyingly short time to get Lucy whimpering on his cock but no need to push his luck. Charlie stood and began replacing his clothes and adjusting his hair and wand. He watched Lucy while he did this, enjoying the sight of her limp on the bed, curls frizzed by sweat.
He put an avuncular hand on her head, stroking a thumb across her cheek. “I’ll have to go now, pet.” Then he squeezed one breast: not hard, just enjoying the fact that he could. Lucy flinched and seemed to come back to herself at that. She sat up, staring at him.
“We actually… I actually…”
“I -- Merlin, what am I going to do? I can’t even have a shower without everyone in the house hearing and wanting to know why. And cleaning spells aren’t nearly - delicate - enough for something like this.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “Silly girl. Just wait it out til bedtime and make sure your husband doesn’t see your knickers.”
“I -- I -- ”
“Next time you want to pretend this isn’t happening,” he said, swiping a thumb over her mouth, “I’d best have you swallow the evidence.”