Chapter Text
You’ve been waiting for your phone to ring all afternoon. When it does, you force yourself to wait a few seconds. Let the anticipation build, flooding a sweet warmth through your belly. Let your sister wait, so she doesn’t know exactly how desperate you are to hear her voice. Who are you kidding? You’re sure she knows already. You close your textbooks and your laptop, placing them on the floor beside your bed. You nestle on your stomach, hugged by her hoodie, phone resting on the pillow beside her head so it’s almost like she’s here with you, and you answer her call.
‘Vi.’
‘Hey, Pow-pow. What’s up?’
Her voice, tender and sweet and familiar, sends a shiver through you.
‘Nothing.’ You work a hand under your body, in an effort to get more comfortable. ‘Homework.’
‘Wow. On a Friday night? Don’t you have a party to go to?’
‘Homework first. Haven’t you got anything better to do?’
‘Got work later.’
‘Mm.’ You miss spending evenings at The Last Drop, doing homework at the bar while Vander or Silco or Vi served you bottomless mocktails until close. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Good. We were slammed last night. They say Thursday’s the new Friday.’
You chuckle. ‘Whatever that means.’
‘Had to kick a couple of assholes out,’ she adds. ‘They were getting handsy with some girls at the bar.’
You’re sorry you missed it. If there’s anything better than watching Vi with her sleeves rolled up and the muscles in her arm shifting as she polishes glasses, it’s when she puts those glasses down and steps out from behind the bar to beat the shit out of someone who deserves it. Your hand slides further under your body, working the hem of your too-big hoodie up around your waist.
‘Bartender and bouncer, wow. What can’t you do?’
‘That’s about all I can do. I make drinks and I beat on creepy assholes.’
Your hand is between your legs now, stroking yourself through your panties—slow and leisurely, a comforting touch more than anything—but this makes you pause.
‘Hey, don’t say that.’
‘Why not? You think there’s more to me than that?’
‘So much more.’ It’s a wonder that Vi doesn't see it. She’s everything. ‘Barely scratching the surface.’
‘Tell me.’
You shake your head, though she can’t see. ‘Tell you when I see you.’
And now she has to come see you if she wants to know what you think.
‘When? Next week? I’ll come visit you.’
She’s so eager. It makes you feel… safe. Loved. Your hand moves again, rubbing through your panties, feeling how wet you are already.
‘I have a final next week.’
‘Next weekend, then,’ she says, and a pleasant shiver runs through you, making your scalp tingle and your toes curl, and making every part of you in between warm and happy .
‘Sounds good,’ you sigh, tucking your fingers into your underwear. This isn't the first time you've done this; getting off to the sound of Vi talking about nothing in particular. There's just something so soothing about the low gentle lull of her voice, no matter what she’s saying.
‘You liking all your classes? Still running rings around everybody else?’
‘Mmn, something like that.’ You’d give her more detail but it’s hard to focus while you’re grinding down against your hand. Pleasure rises steadily like a tide, drawn up by Vi’s voice.
‘They all still calling you Jinx?’ And then you’re washed up to shore, reality crashing over you. You press your forehead against the pillows, cursing your sister’s uncanny ability to ruin the mood.
‘That’s my name, Vi.’
‘I know.’
‘And I’m still the same person,’ you continue, even though it’s not really true. It’s something Vi clings to, though, and there’s enough overlap between Powder and Jinx that it doesn’t really feel like a lie. ‘Pretty much.’
‘I know that too.’ You can feel the hesitation before she adds: ‘miss you, Pow.’
You hold your breath, scared that a word from you will scare her into silence. Your sister is sparse with her words—at least these words. She’s more likely to show you her love with touch and gesture, which is difficult to do long-distance. That’s probably why she’s willing to make exceptions on the phone.
‘Miss you a lot,’ she adds. It’s a dizzy, ecstatic rush to hear her say it. The heel of your hand presses hard against your clit, hips rocking forward as you choke down a moan before it escapes.
‘Miss you too,’ you manage to reply.
‘That’s good to hear. Was starting to think I was the only one.’
You laugh, breathy. It’s funny cause it’s impossible: you both know that you miss her more, miss her more, miss her more . It’s a heartbeat under everything and it’s the reason you haven’t tried that hard to make friends or to make plans for Friday night. It’s the reason why, when you do venture out with the friends you’ve accidentally made by virtue of having classes and neighbors and group projects, you keep one eye on your phone. The reason why you send her photos of everything you’re doing and everything you’re seeing, even if she can’t be bothered to return the favour. That’s fine by you.
‘As if,’ you say. ‘No, I miss you bad right now.’
‘Yeah? Well, I miss you more.’
‘Liar,’ you mumble.
‘It’s true. Listen, I miss you so much it hurts. Like, I get winded if I think about it for too long.’
Would she still feel the same if she knew what you were doing right now? If she knew you were riding your hand to the rhythm of her words, her voice low and syrupy and raw with honesty. Vi’s never fully understood you but she's always been adamant on loving you anyway. Maybe this would be one of those times. You exhale a shaky breath and bite your lip to prevent any other sounds escaping.
‘And I think about you all the time . Like, what’s Powder doing right now? I bet Powder would like those boots. I’m gonna take Powder to that new burger joint when she’s back in town.’
‘Vi,’ you say, working hard to keep her name from becoming a moan. ‘Why don’t you tell me that when you’re thinking it?’
‘I’m telling you now.’
‘Tell me more .’ Because it feels so good to hear her admit. You've always been the littlest sister trailing after Vi and struggling to keep up. The clingy baby she tried to shake off so she could do cool, older-sibling things. Now, the script is flipped and you’re the one far away, doing new things that she has never done. She's the one calling you on a Friday night when she could be doing anything else—going out, getting drunk, meeting other girls. You wouldn't be mad if she did. You’re just glad she isn't.
‘Okay, demanding.’
‘Uh huh.’ No point denying it while you're working one finger inside yourself, desperate for more but scared to give it to yourself in case it makes you moan too loud.
‘I don’t know, Pow. I guess… You’ve always been here, with me . Never thought you’d leave me behind.’ And now you feel a little bad, even though that was the plan and it's working .
‘Didn’t,’ you mumble. ‘’M comin’ back.’
‘Not soon enough.’ She sighs. ‘I’m just clingy, I guess.’
This time, the soft moan slips out before you can stop yourself. And then you decide, screw it, and slip two fingers inside, deep, up to your knuckles. Vi’s hands are bigger than yours; they would make you feel so much more full.
‘Are you really doing homework right now?’
‘No, I’m talking to you .’
‘Right, I’ve got your undivided attention?’
She has no idea . You arch your back, humping against your palm as you fuck yourself slowly, the way you’d like to imagine Vi would. Your phone begins to slip off the pillow and you clutch it in your sweaty hand before it falls.
‘Yeah. What are you doing?’
‘Nothing. I’m in your room.’
You bite your lip, letting it drag nice and slow between your teeth before you ask, ‘why?’
‘Only place I can get some damn peace,’ she says. You close your eyes, well on your way to picturing her there before she adds, in a lower, confidential tone: ‘smells like you in here, too.’
‘Fuck.’ You pull your fingers out, dragging your wetness over your pussy, up over your clit. You rest your hand against your hip, squeezing your thighs together cause you’re lightheaded and dangerously close to coming, and you were hoping to last a little longer. With Vi, though, that never happens.
‘You okay?’ she asks. Has she guessed what you’re doing? She’s never caught on before. How many times has she inadvertently coaxed you to climax, unhurried and tender and intoxicating; her voice carrying you from lazy arousal to desperate, stifled orgasm, through to easy and blissful dreams of being held in your sister’s arms? Too many to count. But this time feels different: charged by what she's admitting. She misses your smell .
‘Uh huh.’ Your finger finds your clit again, circling; teasing: keeping yourself close to the edge until you’re ready to come. You lick your lips. It’s a struggle to string a sentence together. ‘I left… clothes. In the dresser. Smell like me; you can borrow ‘em.’
There’s a pause. You hear Vi get up; you hear dresser drawers opening.
‘I can’t borrow these, Pow,’ she says eventually. ‘None of them will fit me.’
‘Oh.’ You close your eyes, rubbing your clit, bringing yourself closer and closer before pulling back. ‘My bed, then. Comforter… pillows. Bet they smell like me.’
‘Pillows, huh?’
‘Mhm.’ What you wouldn’t give for your pillows here to smell like Vi. You tuck your face down into the neck of her hoodie, losing yourself in the warmth of her scent as you rut against your hand. There’s silence on her end, too. ‘What are you doing now?’ You ask eventually. Hopefully.
‘I’m, uh.’ She laughs sheepishly. ‘On your bed. Smelling your pillows.’
‘It’s okay,’ you say. Vi can get in her head sometimes and she needs you to reassure her that you won’t judge. That you’re exactly the same. Well, not exactly the same, seeing as you’re doing… what you’re doing and she … isn't. ‘Me too.’
‘Smelling your pillows?’
‘Your hoodie. Wearing it.’
‘Fuck, Pow.’ Her tone is tender; awed. God , you wish she was here. ‘You do that a lot?’
‘All the time. Only at home, though.’
‘Embarrassed to be seen in public with it?’
You would roll your eyes if you weren’t so busy riding your hand a little faster, a little harder, enjoying the wet glide of your palm against your clit. You make a small noise: almost a moan, but not quite.
‘It’ll stop smelling like you if I wear it outside.’
‘You should’ve said. I’ll bring more when I come see you next weekend.’
This time you do moan, mouth hanging open, forehead pressed to your pillow. You love when she’s eager to visit you and bring you gifts. She has no idea what she does to you.
‘You should come sooner,’ you manage to say. You’re getting close: strung out, hips moving erratically. Vi has made a total mess of your panties and it’s only getting worse.
‘What about your final?’
‘Fuck the final,’ you moan.
‘’Kay. I’ll come whenever you want me to.’
‘Yeah, soon, soon—’
Please, God , you want her here now . More than that, you want to come . You’re so close.
‘And when I see you I’m gonna hug you so tight, Pow, you don’t even know.’
‘Fuck,’ you say against your pillow. You’re leaving a damp patch on the pillowcase and another down in your sheets. You’re obscenely wet, pathetically desperate. But there’s something holding you back, even as you circle your thumb over your clit in a way that’s usually guaranteed to make you come. ‘ Need that, Vi.’
‘Me too. You have no idea.’
‘Mmn… tell me?’
‘Just wanna be holding you, Powder. Wanna be with you… think I can move into your dorm on the low? I can hang out while you’re doing your smartypants thing.’ Her low, raspy voice makes you shudder. You spread your thighs wider, sinking down further, grinding on your mattress the way you wish you could grind on her. ‘Keep your bed warm while you’re takin’ that final, how’s that?’
Vi’s warm body in your bed. Waiting for you. Willing to let you do anything you want to her. Fuck , you need to come.
‘Yes… oh, Vi, please…’
‘You want me to?’
‘Yeah, I want you, I really do. Vi, fuck ,’ you babble, barely aware of what you’re saying.
‘Then I’m there, cutiepie,’ Vi says, so soft and adoring. ‘I got you, okay?’
And that’s what you needed. Her support—her permission . Your orgasm’s been building and building for so long and now it’s here, as sudden and earth-quaking and breathtaking as an avalanche. You can’t even think about the fact that Vi must hear your drawn-out, high-pitched moans.
It takes a few minutes for you to drift back to your body. You feel warm and soft and melty, and so, so loved.
Even more so when Vi says, ‘Pow? You okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m good,’ you say on a sigh.
‘Good.’
‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’ she murmurs.
‘For calling me. For not forgetting about me.’ Because that’s always a fear. Even when she promises to come see you, when she calls you every day, you worry that one day she’ll forget and that will be the beginning of the end.
‘Hey, never ever gonna happen, cutiepie.’
You hum, reassured—for now—that she’s telling the truth.
‘Love you, Vi,’ you tell her. You’re half asleep already, even though you really don’t want to hang up on her. But it’s always her voice you want to hear as you fall asleep, the world’s most effective lullaby.
‘You too,’ she says. ‘You gonna go to bed now?’
‘Mmmhm.’
‘Yeah, good. I better get to work anyway.’
And then she’s gone, leaving you with ruined sheets and panties that are soaked through. You’ll deal with that tomorrow, though; for now, you’re content and sleepy and unwilling to move.