Work Text:
Vi has been stuck doing nothing but paperwork for about a week now, and she is roughly five minutes from beating her face into a bloody pulp against the pristine, scratchless surface of her glossy black desk. She knows that she has to serve out her punishment, under the explicit orders of her pissed-off captain, but, even now, she can’t help but feel that the precinct is focusing on the wrong thing– sure, she punched the perp that she had been chasing a few too many times, but all of that was after he had shoved an old woman right into traffic in an attempt to shake her off of his back. That woman had nearly died, Vi just barely able to grab her arm with a bruising grip to pull her out of the way of an oncoming garbage truck that was failing to slow down, even as its brakes screeched and squealed, so she feels like maybe the guy had earned a few extra hard knocks to the noggin.
Everyone else in the precinct seemed to disagree, though; Vi’s original punishment was supposed to be suspension, though her partner had been able to argue in favor of Vi being stuck at a desk, instead.
Snorting in irritation, Vi taps her foot against the ground; though she is thankful to be still earning a paycheck to pay her rent, she almost wishes Caitlyn would have just kept her mouth shut so she could be sitting at home on her ratty couch, instead of being hunched over her desk all day. Paperwork has never been anything short of torture, and knowing that she still has another week and a half of being chained to the endless task is enough to make her want to bury her face in her hands and scream. Simply put, Vi is bored beyond the point of frustration, and she honestly isn’t sure of how much longer she can stare at the constantly-growing stacks of ridiculously overcomplicated, incorrectly filled-out forms.
Without a word, Caitlyn pauses in front of her and deposits another stack, then flashes her a pitying glance over her shoulder as she heads back to a special shimmer task force meeting that Vi has no chance of being able to attend. She wants to throw her head back and scream, wants to shove all of the papers onto the floor and light it all on fire while she dances around it and screeches at the sky like some sort of undiscovered tropical bird. This is maddeningly stupid, this entire situation as a whole is, plainly put, dumb and it all feels like a blatant waste of all of the time and effort she put into dragging herself up through the ranks. She did not go through months of extreme hazing on behalf of her coworkers, particularly for joining the Piltover force despite being from its smallest, poorest, most violent outskirts, just to be sat down at a desk and forced to squint at tiny grayish-black text on painfully bright white paper while her cohorts watch from a distance and snicker into their coffee mugs.
Her knee bounces as she taps the chewed-up end of her cheap plastic pen against the paper in front of her. All of the words separate into individual letters that blur in front of her eyes, her mind far too under-stimulated to have any interest in forcing herself to continue attempting such a Sisyphean task. For what feels like the thousandth time, she allows her gaze to slip as she stares out of the window– she can’t even see that much, mostly just the polished, shiny skyline of Downtown Piltover, but looking at the wide, expansive bright blue sky is far better than staring down at her desk for hours on end. Sighing, she risks looking over at the clock, then hisses to herself when she sees that only ten minutes have passed since she last dared to check the time.
This is misery, plain and simple. She has already taken her lunch break, and she knows that she has to keep her trips to the bathroom few and far in between to avoid having any sort of superior officers standing over her shoulder while she does her best to make the day fly by just a little faster. A couple of older officers with balding heads and big pot bellies walk past with chipped mugs filled with shitty black coffee clenched in their beefy hands, and Vi hums for a moment, then shakes her head– she chugged two energy drinks on her lunch break, and while she would appreciate the opportunity to have a reason to get up and walk around for just a couple of minutes, the last thing she needs is to be vibrating in her chair from all of the caffeine rushing through her system all at once.
“How’s it going, Slugger?” The older older of the two men asks as he turns around, lifting his mug to his wrinkled mouth as he winks at her over the rim.
“Swell,” Vi replies, her voice flat and dull. She raises her brow as she shoots him a glare, jutting her chin out at him– the recklessness that makes her blood sing almost wants a fight, just to have something to do to pass the time, and she halfway hopes that one of the older men will give her that.
To her simultaneous relief and disappointment, the officer lowers his mug and sucks the coffee out of his mustache as the corners of his mouth twitch up. “Keep your chin up, kid. Based on your track record, you’ll be back at this desk sooner rather than later.” He lets out a loud, obnoxious guffaw, elbowing the man next to him before they both around and walk away while they continue to trade jokes back and forth, leaving Vi to quietly stew in her own frustrations.
“Yeah, well,” Vi huffs, her nostrils flaring; she tries crossing her legs, then winces as her knee bangs against the underside of her desk. “Fuck me,” she groans under her breath, her shoulders sloping downwards as she pushes her chair out and braces her elbows on her knees. She stares down at her shiny black shoes, a uniform requirement, then taps her toe against the floor. Her chest is tight with tension as she forces herself to sit straight, to pull herself closer to the desk again and slump back over the paper-covered surface. She swears she can feel every single second as it drips by, and it’s downright agonizing.
She feels a rapid buzzing sensation in her front pocket, then freezes as if she has been shot, her muscles growing progressively stiffer as her breathing instantly thins. There are not many people in this world that have her number in the first place, and fewer still even bother using it; the few friends and family she has left in her abysmally small social circle have a habit of just dropping by her shitty apartment whenever they figure she is home, so really, the only people that would even bother to text her would be coworkers, all of whom are already at work and fully aware of exactly where she is.
That only leaves one real option left, and it paralyzes Vi with terrified indecision and eager, anticipatory dread. She glances back out of the window, and, for a split second, she fantasizes about throwing her desk through the smooth, smudge-free glass and then following it out with a semi-flawlessly executed swan dive.
Vi bites her bottom lip until the sting of her teeth digging into the sensitive flesh makes her grimace. Her heart skipping several beats as a small flood of irritation washes over her, she reaches into her pocket, then pulls out her phone, double tapping the screen to check her notifications.
There is only one message waiting for her, and it is from a unknown, unsaved number, but there is no one it could possibly be from besides her little sister. She considers not even reading the text at all– she and Jinx haven’t spoken in a few months, and it is probably for the best that they keep that streak up, given the nature of their last big blow-up. They have had plenty of fights before, given the semi-volatile nature of sisterhood in general, but the unnatural twist their relationship had taken made things complicated when Vi tried to return to a more socially-acceptable status quo upon managing to actually get promoted and noticed at work. She knows that her sister has always hated her decision to join law enforcement, of all things, having never managed to stop sneering and curling her lip whenever Vi tried to explain her desire to actually change things by getting into the system and fixing it from the inside, so, in hindsight, she realizes that using it as her main reasoning to stop the romantic blur of an affair that they had fallen into out of nowhere was probably her worst decision. Despite what she ended up telling Jinx, despite how firm she had been about ending any contact between them that wasn’t strictly familial, she hadn’t even really wanted to end it in the first place, but her fear of being found out grossly outweighed everything else; too many people were asking questions about her personal life that she had no real answers to, having never thought about cover stories, and, instead of trying to discuss it with her sister, she, as she always has, chose to panic and push the younger woman away.
It had almost felt like a relief when her sister nearly exploded in her face, screaming at her about her stupid pride and her nonstop desire to bend over backwards for the very same people that have always made their lives hell. It almost killed her to watch her sister scream and cry, to have to duck the shoes and pictures and whatever else the younger woman could grab and throw at her as she screeched insults and pained questions and desperate pleas for Vi to reconsider ending the one good thing they had ever managed to have for themselves.
Over the last few months, Vi has changed her mind a thousand times, depending on the time of day and the direction in which the wind blows. Most days, she wants nothing more than to quit the force and run home to the weathered streets of her former neighborhood, to call her sister or track her down so she can grovel and beg to bring the younger woman back into her life. She misses their lazy Sunday mornings while yearning for their Monday night takeout dinners and their mid-day conversations that they would have over the phone while Vi took her breaks alone in her car. More than anything, or so she tells herself, she misses Jinx’s sweet smile and razor-sharp tongue, her heart aching whenever she thinks too hard about the way the younger woman would roll her eyes and call her a sappy little fuck whenever Vi would tear up at sad movies.
Truthfully, though, when she is alone at night with a couple of beers in her system, Vi can admit that the other thing she misses the most is having her naked sister between her sheets. They have always had a relationship that was too familiar to be properly platonic and familial, have always taken care of each other like partners instead of siblings, but the roughly half of a year that they spent exploring each other’s bodies was easily the best six months of Vi’s entire life. Prior to Jinx, Vi had never had a partner that had been so doggedly determined to please her, nor had she ever found anyone that would be so consistently stubborn and unyielding, who would take control and refuse to give it up for even a half of a second.
She very quickly learned in those far-too-few months that her own sister was the thing she had been looking for with every other person she had ever tried to be intimate with, and then relearned it even harder in her absence.
Still, regardless of how bad she wants it, needs it, craves it, and yearns for it, Vi has to face the facts and admit that, in any context, fucking Jinx is not morally, socially, or lawfully acceptable. Even if after pushing all of that to the side, a task that is easier than it really should be, Vi consistently reminds herself that, though she wants it potentially even more than her little sister does, she has to be the one to keep the both of them from giving in. At the end of the day, it has always been on her to be the responsible one, to lead them both towards good decisions, and while she has consistently failed over and over again, she has the chance to fix it, to do what is right for once. Jinx has never once wanted to choose to do good for herself, so it is up to Vi to do it for her, to make the painful, resentment-forming decisions that will ultimately be to her little sister’s overall benefit. After all, Vi reminds herself as she blinks back burning tears, Jinx deserves better than what she can provide for her. As has been the case for her entire life, Vi wants her sister to have the entire world placed in the palms of her perfect hands, to have a partner that can show her off and take her out and provide her with opportunities that Vi will never be able to. Vi has no delusions of becoming some high-ranking officer on the force, at least, not anymore; she knows that ultimately, her job will be one that will stall and refuse to progress past a point that she is quickly approaching, none of her superiors seeing any particular value or worth in what she provides to the precinct and the people of Piltover. When she had been new and green to the force, she had believed Caitlyn’s encouraging mini-motivational speeches of being able to finally fix the disparities between Zaun and Piltover, but now, she sees just how fruitless the overall endeavor really is. Everyone else on the force is from places of privilege, and most of them even went to the same schools and played in the same playgrounds as children. She is the only person in the entire building from her corner of the city, the only person that grew up with gunshots as her lullaby and alarm clock, and they all look down on her for it. Her mere presence is, at best, considered to be disruptive– she is too loud, too rough, too brash, and even when she tries to keep herself calm and level-headed in the face of blind prejudice and adversity, she is told to quiet her voice and calm down.
It is enough to make her want to throw a fist in every single officer’s face, but she knows that it would only solidify their pre-conceived notions of the quality of her character. Still, swallowing it all down every day feels like forcing down needles and acid, and her even-tempered, blank-faced refusal to rise to any of the insults hurled in her direction, disguised by pleasant tones and deceptively convivial grins, only seems to encourage them all to try harder to get her to crack.
Jinx would smirk right in her face if she could read Vi’s mind; everything has turned out exactly as she predicted it would, and it is just as maddening as it is shameful to Vi that she hadn’t been able to prove the girl wrong. She feels hopelessly naive for ever believing that she could have done anything to help anyone.
Another officer walks by and slaps a stack of papers on her desk without even bothering to look at her, then beelines straight for the coffee machine and the group gathered around it. She waits for everyone to turn away from her, then glances down at her phone, taking a deep breath before she double taps the screen again, then unlocks her phone so she can open the message.
U up?
The message is so blatantly Jinx that it makes Vi’s chest ache as she fights to keep the fondly exasperated smile from growing on her face. She sighs as she pinches the skin between her brows, placing her phone back on her desk with the screen side down. There is a mountain of paperwork that she needs to catch up on and complete, and she does not have time to play the younger woman’s games, no matter how much she has missed them and how badly she wants to try, anyway. If anything, Vi knows she should just block the number completely; Jinx had been able to go this long without reaching out, and the ball is now in her court to maintain that painfully necessary distance. This is her most important job, her biggest responsibility, and she can’t afford to slip up again, not after she finally got the strength to end it.
She knows she won’t be able to end it again, if reconciliation is even anywhere near what her sister is after. Fighting with every cell in her body to keep her hands steady, Vi grabs her phone and slides it back into her pocket while she forces her eyes to stay glued to the paperwork in front of her. Once again, she tries to focus her eyes on the form in front of her; she can’t even remember what this particularly coffee-stained form is supposed to be in reference to, and the random array of numbers and letters in the top left corner of the page is doing her no good. The words on the page all blur together once more, and she blinks rapidly, then rubs her eyes.
“Keep it together, Vi,” she whispers to herself, her foot tapping against the floor to a borderline-chaotic beat. She has options, here; she can pretend that she never got the message in the first place, or that she doesn’t know the identity of the person behind the brand new number that her sister must have gotten. Though she tries not to, Vi can’t help but wonder what happened to her old number; the brutally realistic part of her knows that it’s because of her, that Jinx had been so hurt and angry and heartbroken that she had gotten rid of any method of contact to try to make sure that she couldn’t be reached, but Vi tells herself that it could be for any number of reasons.
Rubbing the back of her sweaty neck, Vi stares down at the paperwork in front of her while she skims the words without really taking them in, every single brain cell focused on Jinx; her breath hitches as she thinks about the long curve of the other woman’s neck, the delicate lines of her hands and fingers, and the sharp, gleeful edge to her grin whenever she would get under Vi’s skin. She bites her lip, dropping her pen again as she starts rubbing her temples, her eyes fluttering shut as she tries to even out her breathing.
“Are you okay?”
She looks up in time to see one of the rookies from the newest class of officers eyeing her from a relatively safe distance. Trying to force a smile to her face, she winces when she feels the tension in her own muscles. “Yeah, uh–” she clears her throat, then swallows, trying to come up with an excuse or a lie or, really, anything other than the truth.
Offering her a small, friendly grin, the redhead tilts her head to the side. “Migraine?” she asks, taking one hesitant step closer. “My sister gets them all the time,” she offers as an explanation when Vi stares at her in blatant confusion as she tries to place the girl’s accent, “I recognize the look.”
“Oh,” Vi licks her dry, chapped lips, then glances back down at the stack of papers in front of her.
“I imagine staring at all that tiny writing all day is probably a pretty good trigger, hm?” Her smile only grows more sympathetic as she takes another step forward. “It’s not fair for them to stick you here, anyway. You were just doi-”
“Nolen! Get over here, we’ve got a briefing!”
The ginger’s head snaps to the side before she looks back at Vi, shrugging her shoulders as she slowly backs away. “Duty calls, you know how it goes. I, um…I have some pain medicine in my desk, if you’d like.” She points bashfully to the back corner, then uses the same shaky hand to scratch awkwardly at side of her nose. “You can just go in and grab some, I don’t mind.”
Vi blinks up at the redhead slowly, then swallows back all of her questions. “Thanks.”
“You’re really an insp–”
“Nolen, come on! It’s starting!”
Nolen scurries away without another word, her head down and her shoulders raised nearly to her ears as she joins the rest of the newer officers; she immediately fits right into the rest of the group, and jealousy surges through Vi’s chest as she is forced to face the fact once more that she will never be anything more than an outcast amongst the rest of the precinct.
As soon as her distraction is gone, Vi’s leg starts bouncing, her phone feeling like it will burn a hole through her pocket if she doesn’t unlock the screen and text her sister back. She can’t even bring herself to look at it, and she knows that the smart thing would be to not acknowledge that she ever received the message in the first place; it’s better this way, it’s better if she is the one to enforce their distance and separation. It will be easier on Jinx like this, and really, that is all Vi can really hope for.
She pulls her phone out, her fingers shaking as she hovers her thumb over the greasy, streaked screen. As much as it shouldn’t, her sister’s single, two word message feels like a lifeline thrown to her in the midst of a stormy, choppy sea. Her life has been complete shit ever since her sister grabbed her most important belongings and left, the door slamming behind her as she ran down the stairs and away from the absolute disaster that Vi had made of their relationship. She has never been lonelier, never been more miserable or exhausted and, selfishly, she wants nothing more than to bury her face in her sister’s neck, knowing that the younger woman’s scent alone could revitalize her in mere minutes.
“I can’t,” she whispers, her chest heaving while she stares at her reflection in the dark screen of her phone in horror. She shakes her head, then opens the top drawer of her desk and places her phone inside, sliding it shut once more. “Out of sight, out of mind,” she reminds herself before she picks her pen back up and starts spinning it around between her fingers absentmindedly while she chews on the skin on the inside of her cheek. She needs to work on her paperwork, needs to get it all done before she heads home for the day, or it will all just keep piling up into some avalanche-inducing mountain that will only bring about more pissed-off annoyance. There is no time to reminisce on things that no longer exist, no point to fantasizing about that which she cannot have, and no reason for her to think that she has any right to want any part of what she broke in the first place.
Taking a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth, a trick she had learned from Jinx, Vi rolls her shoulders back before she lets her head fall forward, her chin touching her chest. She pushes the form in front of her to the side, then leans forward to grab a different one, thinking maybe all she needs is a break from looking at the same thing relentlessly. However, when she looks down at the page only to yield similar results of reading without any real comprehension, Vi nearly screams, wanting to bash her head in now, more than ever.
She looks back up at the clock; only twenty more minutes have passed.
“Fuck it,” she grunts as she wrenches open the drawer to snatch her phone out of it; her knuckles turn nearly white with the intensity of her grip, and her the drawer makes a loud slamming noise as she shoves it shut and launches herself out of her chair. Keeping her head down and her feet moving as quickly as she can without causing any suspicion, Vi beelines for the back stairwell, then climbs a couple of floors until she reaches the levels that tend to be less-occupied.
When she opens the heavy blue door to the eleventh floor, she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees that only the emergency lights are on, the floor having been completely abandoned for the day. She nearly skips to the back bathroom, the one that everyone else in the building seems to have all but forgotten about, then slips inside as quickly as she can, locking the door before she presses her back against it and stares at her sweaty reflection in the mirror above the sink. Already, she is a complete and total mess, and that should be enough to dissuade her, to send her slumping back to her desk in abject dejection.
Instead, she unlocks her phone, her palms growing clammier by the minute, then clicks on the phone number, calling it. Raising the phone to her ear, she taps her foot as she leans even further back against the door, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she waits for Jinx to pick up.
The thing is, Jinx doesn’t pick up– Vi sits and listens to the phone ringing, then swallows back a groan when, instead of her sister’s voice, she is greeted with a robotic message asking her to leave her name, number, and a message!
She doesn’t bother leaving a voicemail, knowing that the younger woman almost never bothers to check it. Rolling her eyes, she opens the message up once more, then lets her head fall back against the door as she tries to think of something to say in response to her sister’s uncouth approach at a conversation starter.
“You up?” Vi repeats to herself, her tone scorned and mocking as she rolls her eyes. “What the hell am I even–” she huffs out a sigh, then lets her instincts take over, despite how that approach has rarely, if ever, done her any good.
Not all of us are unemployed, she types back, what do you want?
Once the message is sent, her anxiety skyrockets to heights she honestly had not thought it could reach. She nearly feels like she is going to pass out, and, for a moment, she almost lets herself sink to the floor; Vi has no idea if she took too long to respond, if Jinx already decided to give up on her brief extension of olive branches in order to move on with her life, and while she should hope for the latter, all it does it fill her with heart-wrenching dread.
Vi nearly screams when her phone starts buzzing insistently as she receives a call, the number flashing on her screen being the very same she had received the initial text from. She swallows, staring down at the vibrating screen, hoping that this time, she will make the right choice.
She answers the call, slapping the phone against the side of her face out of a desperation to not miss any snippet of her sister’s voice.
“Hello?” She whispers, wincing as she hears the uncertainty in her own voice. She clears her throat. “Sorry, um…hello?”
Jinx snorts. “Not much better the second time. Want a third go?”
Scratching the back of her head, Vi pinches the bridge of her nose as she bites her lip, wanting nothing more than to lay down in the empty bathroom so she can die in peace. “I’d hate to strike out right at the start.”
Her sister’s voice is raspy and hoarse as she snorts into the receiver. “Nothing you aren’t already used to.”
“You got me there.” Vi inhales deeply, walking over to the nearest stall; she locks herself behind a thick, plastic door, then turns to the toilet, slams the lid down, and sits on it. Her knee starts bouncing, so she leans her elbow on it, desperate to maintain her illusion of casual collectedness, even if there’s no one around to witness it. “So, what’s up?”
“What, a girl can’t call her sister?”
Nearly choking on her shock, Vi frowns as she props her phone between her cheek and shoulder and stares uselessly at her hands. “Well, I mean, it’s been three months.”
“Yeah, well,” Jinx snorts, “sue me.”
“I didn’t think I’d hear your voice again, honestly.”
“Don’t get all sappy on me, now.” The younger woman grunts, a shuffling noise coming through the speaker. “Besides, whose fault is that, Miss Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em?”
“You’re the one that left,” Vi reminds her, knowing good and damn well that she should keep her mouth shut. She doesn’t want this to spiral into more hurtful accusations and twisted words, doesn’t want to fall back into the same argument, especially not when her sister’s side is sounding more and more reasonable as every day passes.
“Let’s not get into semantics,” her sister replies, her voice lighthearted and almost weak sounding. “It’s only fun to fight when I want to.”
Frowning, Vi rubs her clammy palm on her thigh. “So you didn’t call for that?”
“Nah,” more rustling comes from the other end. “Is it really so unbelievable that I just want to check up on you?”
Vi sniffs, her eyes growing misty, to her personal mortification. “A little,” she confesses, her voice cracking. “I didn’t honestly think you would care.”
“Don’t you dare try to guilt trip me,” Jinx warns, her voice growing sharp. “You’re the one that broke it all to bits, you’re the one–”
“I know,” Vi says, her words rushed, her knee bouncing twice as violently as it was before. She sighs, all of her strings feeling like they have been cut. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t– I’m sorry.”
“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for, do you? You’re just throwing it at everything to see what sticks.”
“No, I mean it, I should have handled things better, I should have called and checked up on you before now.” Vi hangs her head in shame, gnawing at her bottom lip as she tries to think of something else to say that isn’t an abundance of repetitive apologies.
“Stop biting your lip,” Jinx mutters after the silence stretches for a beat too long. “I know you’re doing it, so don’t even try to lie to me.”
Vi huffs out a sad, fond laugh through her nose as her heart breaks even further. “Caught me red handed.”
“I always do.”
Pausing, Vi frowns– her sister’s voice had sounded different there, a shade breathier than usual, like she has been exerting herself. “What have you been up to?” She asks, trying to keep herself sounding curious and interested without coming off as accusatory.
“Little bit of this, little bit of that.” This time, Vi almost thinks she can hear a barely-audible whine escape Jinx’s throat, though it is quiet enough that Vi could have just been hearing things. “So, you start fucking your partner yet?”
Vi chokes and sputters. “What?”
“Oh, come on,” Jinx forces out a strangled attempt at a cackle, though Vi can hear the bitterness lacing it as clear as day. “You know that girl wanted you to fuck her from day one. And hey, blue hair, good with guns, little gap in the teeth? Could be close enough if you were feeling nostalgic.”
Pulling her phone away from her ear to stare at it in disbelief, she scoffs, then shakes her head. “You really called me to ask me if I’m fucking Caitlyn?”
Her sister’s voice is quieter, like she moved the phone away from her mouth, like she’s hiding something. “Among other things.”
“No, Jinx, I’m not fucking my coworker,” she stresses, running her hands through her gelled hair. It’s going to be a mess, now, and she knows one of the other officers is going to say something, if not her captain. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Some might say that,” Jinx giggles, the sound tapering off into a reedy moan that Vi can’t deny or explain away. Her chest aching, Vi hesitates for just a moment, unsure if she should say anything at all, or simply wait and see what happens. Her sister’s breath hitches the same way it used to when she would press Vi’s face to her dripping core, and it makes her mouth water instinctually.
Searching her mind, Vi tries to think of anything else she could possibly say to her sister to try and steer the conversation back to safe, normal, familial waters. She has to try for the both of them, but mostly for her sister’s sake– the girl has never really been able to take no for an answer before, and she has always hated hearing it from Vi the most. Still, all she can think about is what the all the quiet, semi-muffled noises her sister is making must mean, what she must be doing to cause her breathing to change and her voice to crack and lilt in odd places. The other woman sighs softly, then inhales sharply, a quiet groan coming through the staticky speaker, and that is enough to break the admittedly weak resolve Vi had been struggling to maintain in the first place. “Jinx,” She starts cautiously, dread creeping up in her throat as arousal starts to heat her veins. “What are you doing?”
“Catching up, silly,” there’s a huskiness to her voice that only comes out when she’s doing one thing, and Vi groans, rubbing her legs together as she shifts in place. Already, her blush is spreading down her neck and chest, her skin feeling hot as her brain slowly starts to melt out of her ears. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing?”
Her entire body tensing as she realizes what she is doing, Vi slaps her palm against her forehead as she tries and fails to keep herself calm. She can feel sweat beading beneath her hand, and her lip trembles as she breathes in shakily. “Are you serious right now? I’m at work!”
She can feel the smirk spreading on her sister’s face, just like she can almost taste the memory of the woman’s spit. “Is that your only complaint?”
“Jinx, please,” She breathes; out of nowhere, the bathroom suddenly feels like it’s stifling hot, like she’s sitting in some overpriced sauna, and she reaches up and loosens the tie wrapped around her neck like a noose before she undoes the top two buttons of her shirt.
“Mm, that’s better,” the other woman purrs, her voice only getting breathier as she continues. “You sound so much more natural when you’re begging for me instead of trying so hard to act all big and bad and tough.”
“Shut up,” Vi whimpers pathetically, her cheeks growing hotter while the crotch of her panties only gets wetter. She shifts, then bites back a shocked gasp when that little action is enough to provide her with the slightest of friction.
A throaty, raspy chuckle comes through the speaker, rattling around her in her ear in a way that leaves her frustratingly needy. “Dirty girl, trying to get me to clam it so you see what else you can hear?”
“Stop it.” She sounds pitiful, like some weak, frail little thing that is helpless against the unbeatable force of her sister’s will. Her entire body trembles as it tenses, her skin feeling like it wants to peel itself away from her body just to get closer to the younger woman’s touch.
“I could,” Jinx says, her tone casual and nearly conversational, like she’s inspecting her nails out of sheer boredom. “But where would the fun be in that? We both know you don’t actually want me to stop.”
“I do,” Vi objects weakly, her heart pounding hard enough to leave her feeling lightheaded. The lie is bitter on the back of her tongue, and all she wants is the sweetness of her sister’s to chase the flavor away.
“Then hang up,” Jinx offers, her tone flat and empty. “End the call, and that can be it.”
Vi’s stomach drops. “That’s how it’s got to be?”
“Sure,” she hears a wet, rhythmic slapping noise that she knows can only be one thing, closes her eyes as she imagines the way Jinx’s fingers must look as they thrust in and out of what sounds like her very wet pussy, then swallows as her sister’s voice gets louder as she brings her phone back up to her ear.
Her heart skips several beats as her blood freezes in her body, unsure of where it should be flowing. “What are you doing?”
“All sorts of things.” Vi’s phone buzzes, and her head grows light and dizzy with dread and arousal and cursed anticipation. “Check your phone.”
“No,” she breathes as she shakes her head, as if the other woman can see her. “Jinx, I told you, we can’t.”
“Vi,” her sister’s tone grows cold and sharp, causing Vi to sit up straight, her shoulders back and her jaw clenched tightly. She lowers her voice even further until it’s a faint whisper of a growl. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
She wishes she could say that she doesn’t know why she immediately obeys, her body practically hardwired to bend to her sister’s wants and desires, but as she unlocks her phone, she feels her entire mind and body slip right back under the woman’s control. It’s pathetic, really– Jinx hadn’t even had to come and find her to put her right back into her place. Vi almost feels like she should put up some sort of a fight, but she has no real fight left in her for this, not when her sister’s wet, pink pussy is on display, her bush thick and curly and shimmering with her arousal. Her entrance is gaped, Jinx spreading her lips with her index and middle finger, and Vi audibly moans as she surges forward, her nose brushing against her screen as she moves out of habit, always needing to dive into her sister’s wetness at first glance.
Vi licks her lips, then reaches down to cup her hand against her crotch. Her breathing turns heavy as her nipples grow tight, and her hand shakes even worse as she raises the phone back to her ear. She swallows, her throat clicking, then licks her dry lips, unable to think of a single thing to say besides a whimpered, strangled “please.”
“Good girl,” Jinx praises her with a fondly mocking tone. “Do I have to teach you everything all over again?” She releases a tired, heavy sigh from what sounds like the very core of her being, then speaks slowly, as if addressing a particularly small, unintelligent child. “Do as you’re told, and you get rewarded, remember?”
Right as she opens her mouth to respond, Vi’s mind goes blank, unable to think of a single other thing besides the pink nail polish that had been painted over her sister’s nails. She wants to think it means something, that her sister has missed her even half as much as she has been missed, but she can’t get ahead of herself, not when she doesn’t even know what her sister really wants from her.
Jinx’s voice cracks through the silence like a whip, and it sends shivers down Vi’s spine. “Answer me, Violet.”
“I remember,” Vi responds obediently. She hangs her head in shame as her knee bounces anxiously.
“Then act like it. You think I wanted to leave you alone all this time?” The other woman scoffs, then snarls, her moans turning into quiet grunts and growls. “You think I liked laying in bed at night and knowing you were screwing every little hot piece of ass you could find to try to fill some hole you know you can’t?”
“Jinx–”
“But I had to let you act out, had to let you pitch your little hissy fit so you could see what happened. I had to let you run around and make a fool of yourself, had to sit back while you slutted yourself out to anyone who would have you, just to go home unsatisfied every single time,” Jinx sighs, sounding almost disappointed, even as she continues audibly pleasuring herself, no longer bothering to hide what she is doing. “I know you’ve learned your lesson, Vi. Let’s stop pretending now, I’m bored and I’m horny.”
“I’m not just something you pick up when you need to get off,” Vi protests, feeling oddly indignant, even as she swallows back the shameful truth.
“Then what are you?” Jinx laughs meanly. “Because I’ll tell you this, you’re a shit excuse for a big sister.”
Choking back sharp, stinging hurt, Vi licks her lips. “If I’m such a shit sister, then why did you call me?”
“Why did you answer?”
Vi wants to put her head through the wall, frustrated beyond belief by her sister’s incessant need to tap dance on her very last nerve. She doesn’t want to fight with Jinx, doesn’t want this to dissolve into just another screaming match that will come with another three months of silence, at a minimum.
“What’s it gonna be, Vi?” Jinx asks, patiently impatient. “You gonna pretend that you aren’t touching yourself right now? Probably over your clothes, so you can pretend you’re still good and pure and not some desperate, pathetic slut, but I bet you’re still humping your hand, aren’t you?”
Vi looks down at the hand between her legs, at the way her hips roll against it as she humps down against the closed lid of the toilet. She feels disgusting in the way that only makes her wetter, and she can’t stand herself for it, even as she grinds her hips against her hand even harder.
“Don’t make me tell you to answer me again.”
“Yes,” she whispers, ashamed and tired and so needy that it makes her voice crack as she whimpers.
Her sister huffs out a soft, sad sort of attempt at a laugh. “There you go. Why are you trying so hard to deny yourself what you want, huh? You really want to sit here and tell me you don’t miss it?” She sighs, her voice trembling as she continues in a way that only makes Vi’s head spin even faster. “You don’t miss laying back while I rub my pussy all over your face until you’re covered in it? Come on, I’m man enough to admit that I’ve been fucking myself to the thought of it these last few months. You get so drunk on pussy when you’re eating it right, when you’re sucking down my come like you’re doing shots at the bar.”
“Jinx,” Vi gasps, scandalized as always by her sister’s perpetually nasty mouth, even as her walls clench and her clit throbs against the cheap fabric of her underwear.
“What? It’s not like I’m saying anything that isn’t true. You eat my pussy like you’re starving for it, and hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you treat all your pretty girls real nice, but…” she snorts. “Let’s not pretend I’m not your favorite. Those other girls just want to lay back and get treated real nice by the big, strong cop with the tough scars and the face tattoo. They don’t know that you need to be pushed down and put in your place, that you need to be treated like the dirty, pitiful little mess that you are.”
“I’m not–”
“Did any of them even ask to fuck you?” Jinx talks right over her, uninterested in Vi’s half-hearted, barely-believable objections. “Did they ever think to use that girthy dildo, the one in the back of your drawer? Or did they just lay back and wait for you to get to work?”
Vi swallows, her throat dry, her fingers flying to the button of her work pants before she pauses– despite her sister’s clear intentions, she hasn’t actually received any permission to do anything past what her sister has already guessed. “No,” she admits after a moment of heavy, labored breathing.
“Not even once?”
“You know they didn’t.”
Jinx giggles. "Of course they didn’t. You know, you do a pretty good job of convincing people that you’re not the absolute fucking bottom that you are.”
“I’m versatile,” Vi objects, feeling like her pride is on the line, despite knowing that none of it matters, anyway.
“And the moon is made of cheese, the President is actually a lizard person, birds are spies…” Jinx trails off, then slurps her own fingers, making sure to keep her mouth right next to the microphone. “Tell yourself what you want, but we both know you can’t get off like you like if you aren’t getting your pussy railed and your hair pulled, and I think you’ve learned that no one’s going to do it for you like me.”
Vi’s eyes flutter shut in shameful acceptance of her defeat, her cheeks burning as she feels the way her arousal has soaked her underwear already. She sighs, her shoulders slumping as she curls forward, biting her lip as she continues rubbing against herself.
“Think about it,” Jinx whispers. “Haven’t you missed the way I taste?”
“Yes,” Vi confesses, her voice quiet, but raw with embarrassed honesty.
Jinx giggles to herself, only furthering Vi’s humiliation. “Tell me what else you’ve missed.”
“I’m at work,” Vi reminds her; goosebumps spread over her skin as she thinks of how her absence will eventually be noticed and wonders if anyone will think to come looking for her here.
“Then tell me quietly while you unbutton your pants and rub your clit.”
Choking, Vi feels her eyes go wide as her jaw drops. “Jinx!”
“What do you miss most? Is it…” Vi closes her eyes, then groans as she sees the image of her sister tapping her chin in the back of her mind, “being tied up and fucked until you’re crying and squirting because you can’t stop any part of what’s happening?” A throaty chuckle sends heat through Vi’s veins. “Or do you like it better when you can be my good girl, kneeling so pretty with your hands behind your back while you wait to see what I’m going to give you?”
Vi swallows the drool pooling in her mouth, then wipes the corner of her lips where a thin line had escaped from her dropped jaw. “I–” she opens the button of her pants, unzipping them as quickly as she can before she sticks her hands in her briefs, rubbing small, tight circles over the hardened bud of her clit. “I miss all of it.”
“I’m sure you do,” Jinx snorts, quiet, panted moans escaping between her giggles. “Everyone just expects you to be the big bad butch that can make them feel so small and safe, they can never quite figure out what you actually need. They look at you and can never imagine you wet and naked and covered in bitemarks, can never see the way you hump my boot with that sloppy fucking cunt.”
“Jinx, please.” Vi can’t even recognize her own voice anymore; she barely even sounds human to her own ears, like she is nothing more than the embodiment of shameful, red-faced desperation.
“There you go, you’re getting there. When’s the last time anyone got around to fucking you?”
She doesn’t want to admit to the truth, though she’s fairly sure her sister already knows all of the answers to the questions she is asking. “No one has.”
“You didn’t even fuck yourself?”
Vi sniffs, her leg bouncing as she stills her hand. “I tried,” she breathes, unsure if her sister can even hear her. “It didn’t feel the same, it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t you.”
The other woman moans, her voice cracking as it gets even higher. “Good girl,” she praises her. Vi moans, her fingers pressed up against her core as she rolls her hips down against her hand with renewed vigor. She can hear her own breaths echoing back to her from the tile-covered walls, can hear the desperate little whispered, breathy pleas that she knows her sister is drinking in like cool, fresh water.
“How many fingers do you have inside?”
“None,” Vi pants. “I’m just rubbing.” She bites her lip, then closes her eyes; in the back of her mind, she had always known that she would end up here, that there was no happy ending for her without her sister’s dark, victorious chuckles. “You didn’t say I could…” she trails off, then chokes on her own embarrassment before she swallows it back and forces herself forward– she isn’t stupid enough to think that her sister will allow any less.
She swears she can feel the other woman’s burning hot gaze leaving smoking holes in the side of her face. “And here I was thinking you would have forgotten how to behave.” The woman hisses, a shaky, throaty groan filtering through the staticky speaker. “Too bad. I could have had fun teaching you all over again.”
Vi grows even wetter, despite the way her heart races at the thought of facing her sister’s disapproving wrath. “I couldn’t forget, even if I wanted to.”
“Did you want to?” Jinx’s voice gets sharp. “Did you try?”
“No,” Vi sighs, disappointed by her own lack of commitment to such an important task. She knows better than to try to half-ass anything regarding her sister, and she should have been stronger with this, should have tried harder to maintain the distance that she wants nothing to do with. As much as she hated it, she should have tried harder to maintain their status of separation, but she can’t bring herself to try now– she knows she isn’t strong enough to even make a feeble attempt, knows that she would not be able to force her mouth to say the words that her mind and heart have no interest in pushing forward. She is tired of her own dishonesty, tired of trying to deny what her sister is so sure of.
“What about when you tried to end it?” The other woman presses. “You’re trying to tell me you didn’t spend the rest of that night trying to scrub out every little memory of us?”
“Not even then.”
“Liar,” her sister hisses, angered hurt turning her voice cold.
“I wanted to want to,” Vi mutters. “I stared at my face in the mirror and told myself that I wanted to, but I couldn’t even get myself to believe it. It was just what I was supposed to want, what I was supposed to do.” She swallows, her knee bouncing as she pauses the rolling of her hips; her underwear is sopping wet where the fabric is pressed up against her fingers to a pathetic degree. Her head falls between her slumped shoulders as she curls in on herself, her hand still pressed against her crotch as she forces back the instinctual panic that always rises in her whenever she thinks about the truth of what her life has become. “I wanted to be better for you, to protect you and take care of you. I thought…I thought you’d be better off with me as your big sister instead of your–” she cuts herself off, realizing that she and her sister had never really put a label on whatever it was that they had ended up stumbling into together.
“My what?” Jinx asks, the edge in her voice telling Vi everything she needs to know about the hurt still lingering in her sister’s chest. “Come on, you can’t even say it, can you?” Her voice gets even more crisp and clear, like she has moved her mouth closer to the microphone. “What was I, Vi? Come on, tell me, I’ve been wondering.” She pauses for a moment, then huffs. “And don’t you dare stop touching yourself.”
“Right now?” Vi stares down at her phone in disbelief.
The sound of rustling fabric grows louder before her sister’s voice takes over once more. “You know what to do if you don’t like the game we’re playing.”
“Jinx, I don’t know–”
“Then figure it out,” Jinx hisses. She pauses for a moment, letting the silence linger between the two of them before she softens her tone, keeping it firm, but losing the bite that had been there mere moments before. “One finger, now.”
Vi’s hands move without her mind’s input, her middle finger slipping through her folds faster than her eyes can blink. The pleasure that results from such a simplistic action feels ridiculously intense– she has long since moved past a single finger doing very much for her at all, but the fact that her sister is the one telling her to do it is enough for her skin to hum, every nerve lighting up as she rubs at her wet, tight walls. It has been a while since she even attempted this, her first few tries having been discouraging enough on their own, but she can’t resist the pull of Jinx’s desires, can’t object to her instructions when they’re all she wants. This is what has been missing from every single other sexual encounter that she has tried, and she hates that the other woman is so aware of it; she feels like all of the control has been ripped from her hands, and while, instinctually, it causes her chest to ache with stress and panic, she can’t act like relief doesn’t immediate follow it. She can’t trust anyone else to take control of her so completely, can’t put her life in anyone else’s hands. Vi has never trusted anyone else with the things that she told her sister, with the things she let Jinx see.
She thinks of the cuffs that the woman loved to use on her, of the spreader bars that would leave her so openly on display for her baby sister, and she just barely keeps herself from whimpering at the thought of having all of that again. It’s more than she has even allowed herself to dare to dream of, but now, her heart skips several beats at the thought of maybe having it again, even in the most basic of contexts.
Jinx whines in the back of her throat, impatience winning out over her control. “You know I hate being kept waiting. Come on, Vi. What am I to you?”
“My world,” Vi breathes, speaking from her heart instead of trying to use her brain to try and come up with some title that will never encapsulate all that Jinx is and has always been. “My everything.”
Her sister growls in disgust, though Vi isn’t sure which one of them it is really towards. “Oh, don’t do that.”
“I mean it.”
“No, you just know that it’s what I want to hear,” Jinx sighs in hurt disappointment. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that you want to please me, but I was hoping we would be honest, here.”
“I am,” Vi protests, her throat growing tight as she considers the possibility of Jinx choosing not to believe a single painfully truthful word out of her mouth. “I'm telling the truth.”
“If I was your world and your everything,” Jinx echoes scornfully, “Then you would have never run around and thrown yourself at anything that would take you.” She snorts. “Slut.”
“I was lying to myself,” Vi breathes, rubbing slow, small circles against the spongy bud of her g-spot. “I thought I could do without it, without us.”
“And now?”
“I know better,” Vi breathes.
“Another finger,” Jinx instructs her coolly. “What do you know?”
“That I’m nothing without you,” she confesses, her breath hitching in her aching chest as she follows her sister’s commands. “That no one else can give me what I deserve.”
She can almost hear Jinx’s head tilt in curiosity. “And what do you deserve?”
“Whatever you decide,” Vi whispers, feeling more and more defeated, but fully aware that this really is what she deserves, that this is what she has earned. She has spent far too long yearning to hear her sister’s voice, to see her face and touch her body, and she is willing to do whatever it takes to have it again. Despite her best attempts, a life without her sister is not one that she can honestly view as worth living, and she is sick and tired of trying to pretend otherwise.
“Now you’re getting it. How do those fingers feel?”
“Fine,” Vi breathes, bracing her sweaty temple against the wall. “It…it feels better, when you’re telling me to do it.”
Jinx’s breathing gets heavier, and it’s such a slight change that Vi shouldn’t even be able to notice it, but she has always been so attuned to her sister– even now, she can imagine the way the woman’s pupils must be so wide and dark, the way her fingers must be jittery as she taps them against her thighs in eager anticipation. “What would feel better?”
She gulps, then lets her shoulders slump even further as she gives up and in to Jinx. “Your fingers.”
“Where?”
“In me,” Vi pants, her voice raw, her walls clenching around her fingers. “Squeezing my–” she inhales sharply. “My tits. My throat.”
“You want me to choke you, slut?”
“Yes,” she breathes, a plea and prayer and affirmation all at once.
“Yes, what?” Jinx asks, and Vi knows she is leaning forward, her brow raised while she waits to see if Vi will finally accept her place; she had always had trouble with this last little bit, but now, she wants it more than anything, wants to use her sister’s preferred bedroom title, wants to have the ability to do it, the proof of being owned so completely.
“Yes, please, M-mistress.” Her pussy aches from how turned on she is, and her own touch just isn’t enough to satisfy it.
“Isn’t it tiring always fighting your true nature, Vi?”
“It is, Mistress,” Vi answers dutifully, the heat and wetness in her core multiplying at a dizzyingly fast pace. “I shouldn’t have tried.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Give that messy, slutty cunt another finger and unbutton your shirt, I want to see those pretty pink nipples.”
Vi nearly rips her shirt off in her desperation to obey– she opens her camera, turns the flash on, then snaps a photo of her bare chest, her face hot and drenched in sweat as she bites her lip and sends the picture without any chance to second-guess herself.
“Look how smooth that skin is.” The pout is evident in her sister’s voice as she continues, “No one around to keep you all bruised and pretty? No one to twist your nipples until you cry and beg for a break?”
Nearly choking on her own saliva, Vi props her phone between her cheek and shoulder, than roughly palms her own breast. “No,” she confesses, twisting her nipple while she pretends it’s her sister’s clever fingers and not her own bulkier, clumsier digits.
“Make those nipples pretty and puffy for me, then send me another one.”
Vi pulls and twists her nipples even more viciously, then licks her thumb and index fingers to rub them until they’re shiny, pink, and puffy. She takes another photo, arching her back to make sure that her breasts are as perky as she can get them, and she feels ridiculous, like some desperate whore two seconds away from drooling all over the floor at the slightest implication of her sister’s pleasure.
Jinx makes a choked-off noise, then groans huskily. “Good girl,” she growls after a moment, and for a few beats, the only sound between the two of them is their matching labored breathing and half-moaned panting. When she finally continues, her voice is thin and small, so turned on, but with a slight edge of her own desperation. “Fuck, you look good like that. You get it now, right? You get that this is how you’re supposed to be?”
“Yes,” Vi breathes, her walls fluttering around her own fingers as she imagines how beautiful her sister must look right now.
“You’re done fighting it, aren’t you?” Jinx asks patiently, having cleared her throat and gained more control of the thread of insecurity that had snuck into her tone.
“I can’t fight it anymore,” Vi confesses, the weight that has been living on her chest finally lifting with the admission. “I don’t want anyone else, I don’t need anything else.” Her orgasm is already on the very edges of her vision, and she nearly barks out a shocked laugh when she realizes that she is the closest she has come to a real, satisfying climax since her sister’s untimely exit. She hasn’t even been away from her desk for fifteen minutes, and her legs are already starting to tremble. None of this feels like it should even be possible– she shouldn’t be nearly turned on enough to be so close to tumbling over the edge in some dusty, abandoned bathroom at work, but she knows that she will be muffling her moans sooner rather than later, always having come undone so much faster beneath her sister’s watchful eye and deliberate touches.
“Fuck yourself like you mean it,” Jinx rasps, her voice cracking. “Do it like I would.”
Vi bites her lip– she can think of a thousand ways that the younger woman would fuck her, each idea sounding better than the one before, and she can’t make enough sense of her own mind to try to read her sister’s. Whimpering, she swallows back a moan as she starts fucking herself faster. “Would–” she stares at the door in front of her, then imagines the way Jinx would press her forehead against it. “Would you bend me over?”
Her sister sighs, but instead of angered or stressed, the woman just sounds fond and more than a little horny. “You know I like watching your fat ass bounce while I fuck you.”
Vi forces herself to her feet, her legs and knees feeling like they’re made of jelly. She pitches forward, bracing her arm against the door, her phone still perched precariously on her shoulder, then starts hammering her fingers in and out of herself, the door shaking with the force of her thrusts. “Shit, shit shit shit–” she pants, sweat beading on her forehead and dripping onto the floor from the end of her nose. “Fuck, it–” she is so close, but she can feel herself approaching that same wall in her mind that never lets her get where she wants to be, always stopping her right before she manages to crest over the highest wave of her orgasm.
“Not good enough, even now, is it?” Jinx tuts in a teasingly sympathetic manner, “Can’t do it without me, can you?”
“No,” Vi confesses.
“You can’t do it right, you can’t love yourself like I can,” Jinx whispers, her words sweet, despite the heavy lust hanging in her voice. “You can’t break yourself apart and look at all those jagged pieces without flinching back. You’re so scared to look at what you are that you can’t even see what you could be.” Vi’s chest grows warmer as Jinx keeps talking. “But I know what you need. I know what is going to make you feel good, feel right. I know where you belong, and it’s right at my feet– “ Jinx sniffs, her voice even quieter as she adds, “you can’t take care of me if you don’t let me take care of you, idiot.”
“I’m sorry,” Vi pants, that wall in her mind already feeling less and less stable. She turns and presses her back against the door, humping down against her palm as she continues fucking herself, her own arousal splattering on the floor and toilet and the walls of the stall and leaving little wet drops on every surface.
“I’m sure,” Jinx yawns. “Choke yourself, and when you do it, close your eyes and pretend it’s me.”
Vi gags, her fingers squeezing the sides of her throat tighter than she probably should.
“So eager to be my good girl, aren’t you?” Jinx murmurs, the warm smile on her face evident in the loving lilt in her voice. “Imagine my breath on your lips, my cunt rubbing all over your thigh while I watch your face get all red and sweaty. You’ve always been such a mess, and I’m going to make you even messier.” Her sister moans, and it is one of the most beautiful sounds that Vi has ever heard. “You look so pretty when you’re covered in tears and pussy juice.”
“Please,” Vi wheezes, her stomach fluttering.
“You’re going to spend the whole weekend on your hands and knees,” Jinx warns her, though Vi can only feel excitement at the prospect. “No exceptions, do you hear me? You’re going to kiss my feet every time you pass them, and you’re going to eat my pussy until I’m tired of it. I’m not going to let you forget what you are and where you belong again,” her sister promises. “All you’re going to be able to taste and smell is my fucking cunt, do you understand?”
“Yes,” she breathes, her vision going spotty as she grows more and more lightheaded. She can feel the longer pieces of her mussed hair sticking to her bright red, sweat-soaked cheeks, and she knows that there will be no way that she can go back to sitting at her desk after this. Her shirt is sticking to every bit of skin that it can reach, and her underwear is hopelessly soaked and ruined; she chokes again as she tightens her own grip, imagining her sister’s punishing grin while she pretends she can feel her long, sharp nails digging into her skin. This is everything she has been dreaming of, everything that she has been fruitlessly searching for in her sister’s absence, and she hates her own selfish nature, but she can’t deny the way that her body, mind, and soul all sing and beg for more with every touch that she grants herself under the guise of acting out her sister’s desires.
“You could have had it this whole time,” Jinx reminds her, hurt creeping back into her tone despite her best efforts. “No one told you to throw it all away so you could play at being normal.”
“I’m sorry,” Vi gasps, even more penitent in the face of her sister’s obvious heartbreak.
“I’ll make you prove it,” the other woman hisses, her words a threat, promise, and guarantee.
“I will.” Her fingers are moving at a speed that is nearly painful, her moans only getting louder and higher in pitch as she does it. She feels like she is completely out of control, like she is nothing more than an animal following its most basic of instincts, and she hates it just as much as she loves it, even as she craves the steadiness of her sister’s hand to ground her through the storm of emotions and feelings crashing over her. She doesn’t know what else she can do, here– she has never been strong enough to fight her own need, has never been able to truly deny Jinx anything, at least, not for very long. Truthfully, the only reason they had gone this long without speaking was her sister’s will; she had wanted to come crawling back to the woman within hours of her departure, had wanted to beg for forgiveness on her hands and knees with her lips pressed against Jinx’s shiniest pair of boots.
“Promises, promises,” her sister mutters, her voice hitching and breaking as she finally brings herself over the edge; Vi continues fucking into herself, hot pleasure coursing through her body as she thinks of the way her sister must look right now, her head thrown back in ecstasy while her body undulates under the flood of sensation.
“Please,” Vi whimpers, unable to finish without her sister’s permission– she knows that any pleasure she feels will be merely a fraction of the real thing, of what she really needs. “Please, I need to–”
“You think I don’t know what you need?” Jinx pants, her voice silken, even as her breathing gets heavier. “Like I’m not the one that taught you? Like I’m not the one that bent you over and fucked you until you cried and almost passed out, then watched you beg me to do it again and again while you were on your knees and kissing my feet?” She grunts. “Everyone looks at you and thinks about how you could throw them around, but they never even guess that you’re the one that really likes being manhandled. You blush so pretty when you’re on your knees with my hands in your hair and your tongue buried in my ass.”
Vi groans, her foot slipping as her knees buckle just the slightest bit. Her head slams back against the door as she fucks her fingers in and out of herself even faster, knowing what her sister would want from her.
“Do it,” Jinx whispers, the grin on her face evident in her voice. “Come on, make a big old mess of yourself at work, embarrass yourself in front of all your precious little coworkers that you wanted to impress so goddamn badly. Let them see how much of a whore you really fucking are.” Her sister’s laughter cuts through the air like the cracking of a whip, and Vi groans as it gives her the last little push she needs to send her tumbling into her release. She slips, her ass hitting the ground with a wet slap, then winces and hisses as she feels the telltale throb of her tailbone bruising. She lets her head fall back against the door of the stall, her breathing only getting heavier as her mind continues reeling. She picks up her phone, her hand shaking as she holds it back to her ear.
Biting her lip, Vi swallows back the rush of drool that had flooded her mouth and started trailing from the corner of her lips. “Are-” she clears her throat, then tries again, “are you still there?”
“Dropped your phone, didn’t you?” The other woman sounds unbearably smug, and it sends a fondly exasperated rush of warmth through her heaving chest.
“Yeah,” she croaks, staring down at the mess between her legs. She looks every bit like the whore her sister accused her of being, and it makes her feel dirty and disgusting in a way that causes her nipples to get harder and her clit to throb even harder.
“That’s what I thought. Now, are you done with your whole stupid game, or are you going to continue making things harder than they should be?”
Vi slowly stands on unsteady legs, then leans forward to grab some toilet paper, feeling the urgent need to clean herself up as best she can.
“Don’t you dare touch any of that mess between your legs,” Jinx’s voice rings through her ears and bounces around in her skull, leaving every spot that it leaves drenched in bright, vivid color where it had previously been painted in shades of dull gray. “You pull those panties back up like a good girl.”
Swallowing back any further questions, Vi does as she is told, then lets herself out of the stall to stare at her reflection in the mirror above the sink– she looks like she has gone a few rounds in the ring, at the very least. Her hair is a disaster, her face is blotchy and red and absolutely drenched in sweat, and there is simply no way that she can fix the absolute wreck that her sister has manged to make of her in less than twenty minutes.
“Vi?”
“I pulled them up,” she rasps, bracing herself against the edge of the sink as she stares at her own reflection, knowing that she is going to do the one thing she shouldn’t. “Where are you?” Vi asks, just barely able to swallow back the nervous lump in her throat. “Let me come get you.”
Her phone buzzes, and Vi bites her lip. “Come on, I…” she clears her throat, straining to rid her voice of the insistent tremble that won’t go away. “I’ll be good, just tell me where you are.”
“Check your phone.”
“Jinx–”
“Check your phone, dumbass.”
Choking on her protests, Vi swallows back any other attempts at conversation, then opens her messages, nearly dropping her phone for a second time when she sees her biggest, most beloved dildo covered in her sister’s arousal, her deep blue sheets visible from between Jinx’s milky-white thighs.
“Come home,” Jinx beckons her, and it’s better than any siren’s song, better than any other sort of invitation or offer that Vi has ever heard. “I’m tired of playing these stupid games.”
“Yeah,” Vi releases the breath she has been holding ever since her front door had slammed shut and announced her sister’s departure. She buttons her shirt back up, then wipes at her forehead with a cheap, thin paper towel. “Yeah, me too.”
“Don’t make me wait forever.”
“I’m leaving now,” Vi mutters, turning the light off in the bathroom before she lets the door swing shut behind her. Her footsteps echo loudly in the empty space as she speed walks to the stairwell. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be on my way.”
“You still walking, or did you finally get a car?”
“I’ll run.”
“You’d better. I’d hate to have all the fun by myself,” she murmurs, a small whine escaping her throat. “How do you take all of this so fucking well?”
Vi groans, her mouth going dry as another bead of sweat trails down her spine. She pushes the door to the stairwell open violently, letting it slam against the wall as she flings herself down the steps. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
“Run fast,” Jinx replies breathily, “it’s all wet and ready for you.” She moans, then hangs up without any further fanfare, knowing that her point has been made.
It only takes Vi mere seconds to run back to her desk; she swallows back a small, giddy giggle when she looks around and sees no one else anywhere nearby, all of her fellow officers seeming to have been pulled away into various meetings in her absence. Nearly tripping over her own feet as she stumbles to her captain’s office, she wipes her still-sweaty forehead, then raps lightly on the slightly-open door with her knuckles.
“Come in,” the gruff man answers, his usually-jovial eyes tight with tension. He glances at her, then flinches back in his chair, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle as his frown deepens. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Migraine,” Vi croaks, squinting and rubbing her temple with a strained, semi-apologetic grin. “Would it–”
“Go,” the man waves her off, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “You’re no good to me if you’re only a couple of seconds from hitting the deck.”
“Thank you, sir,” she says, ducking her head.
“Your paperwork will be waiting for you when you get back,” he says, fixing her with a pointed glare.
“Yes, sir.”
Her captain squints. “Get out of here, you’re being too obedient, it’s weirding me out.”
Not wanting to stick around long enough for the man to change his mind, Vi nods, then darts towards the exit, nearly flying down the stairs in her hurry to get out of the building. She barrels down the sidewalk, her feet slapping loudly against the pavement with every rushed, hurried step. Unable to see or think about anything other than the woman waiting for her, Vi blows by the crowds of people on the street, squeezing between groups as she weaves in and out of clusters of friends and small families, sweat pouring down her face as the throbbing between her legs syncs up with the rampant, uneven beating of her heart.
Never more thankful for her apartment’s proximity to the precinct, Vi pushes herself to run the couple of blocks between her and her sister as quickly as she can. Her phone buzzes in her pocket insistently, message after message being delivered, though Vi doesn’t open any of them, knowing that their contents are not exactly the sort of things that should be looked at in a public setting.
Still, she laughs to herself as she runs across the street, her apartment building right in front of her. She pulls out her keys to unlock the front door of the building, then starts racing up the stairs, her heart skipping a beat every time she feels the buzz of another picture being delivered to her inbox.