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It's hot, but Jinx dreams of ice. A great glacial wall, impossibly blue. She dreams of a Spring thaw and the glacier cracking. Nothing discernible on the surface, at first, but as sure as anything by the deep rumbling that resounds from within the ice. Thundering echoes, like the world itself sunders, which she feels through her whole body. She dreams a sheet of ice shears off from the glacier and plummets toward her.
She jolts awake. She's sticky with sweat, either from the dream or the balmy Summer night, which is why she slept in the hammock in the first place. However, what woke her wasn't a sensation of falling, or fear of pain, but an actual jab in the spine from below. She twists and glares down through netting at Isha, who is staring up at her with those big amber eyes.
One-handed, Jinx shakes an upturned palm side-to-side. <What?>
Frowning, Isha's hands move rapidly, slipping into her old home signs like she does whenever she gets agitated; something like an accent. She responds, <Can't you hear that? Somebody's coming!>
Jinx is fully awake now. Her ears prick up at the deep, throaty growl of a diesel engine closing in. Though mostly deaf, Isha is more sensitive to very high or low pitched frequencies and must have felt the vibrations in her bed. Jinx rolls out of the hammock, landing with catlike grace. And the wince of a somebody over thirty who wasn't taking good care of their knees in youth.
<You take overwatch,> Jinx instructs. Isha grabs her hunting rifle from the weapon locker and hurries outside to her post, while Jinx arms herself with a shotgun. Nobody decent came this far out, certainly not this late/early, and she wasn't messing around. Jinx loads double-aught buck and grumbles to herself, “Time to make the donuts.”
Both women are ready and waiting soon after, Isha concealed in her tree house, and Jinx standing boldly on the long dirt track which passes for her driveway. She's dressed in a bathrobe and combat boots, shotgun in hand but aimed at the ground, as friendly as she's liable to be at this ungodly hour.
She watches an enormous heavy-duty pickup truck weave sloppily up the lane. Doesn't recognize it, but it's the kind only professional contractors and/or people with deep insecurity buy. Disturbed fireflies swirl like glowing dust devils in the vehicle's wake. It careens off one of Jinx's metal sculptures, peeling paint with a screech, and sending it clattering to the ground. The vehicle skids to a stop, giant tires tearing up grass as it leaves the track. Good thing the garden is around the back of her house.
Might just shoot the driver on principle.
When they don't immediately exit, Jinx shouts, “Get lost,” her tone not betraying whether that's a question or a command. The headlights are messing with her night vision, but she knows Isha has her covered.
Driver-side door finally opens and the vehicle's sole occupant pours out of the cabin, limp and stumbling. Jinx can't quite make them out in the glare, but then Isha whistles shrilly to get her attention. She glances to the younger woman above, and sees her frantically repeating two signs: bunny ears, finger gun, bunny ears, finger gun.
“Vi!” Jinx cries, weapon falling from her hands. Blood running as cold as her dream, she hurries to her sister in time to catch her before tumbling into the dirt.
“Wha'd ya do t' yer hair?” the older woman slurs by way of greeting.
Jinx huffs an involuntary laugh at the absurdity of it. She'd lost her once lengthy locks years prior, and had grown accustomed to shearing down what grew back to a short layer of blue fuzz, but ignores the question. Even just from the dim dashboard glow filtering out of the truck cab, she can see her sister is in bad shape.
It looks even worse once they get Vi inside and under the stark white light of the bathroom. She has split lips, more blood crusted under her nostrils and around where the old scar on her left brow reopened, and numerous small, ugly bruises all over her face and neck.
“M'sorry, Po—Jinx.” Slumping on the toilet lid, Vi drools a little and it's also tinged red. “I-I had nowhere else t' go.”
“How many times with this,” Jinx demands, struggling to keep her voice from breaking, “and you keep going back to her?!”
She and Isha work together to undress Vi and inspect the damage. Jacket, flannel, tee-shirt; it gets worse with every layer they peel off. Welts and abrasions, and larger contusions of varying age, pepper her sagging body. Jinx meets the watery eyes of her housemate, whose bottom lip trembles, and she has to look away or they'll both spring a leak.
Jinx kneels in front of her sister, pleading, “One of these days, she's going to kill you.”
“Cait's not... not that bad.”
“Sis, you wouldn't be here like this if she wasn't. You're more purple than your namesake.”
They get Vi's boots off, then Jinx lifts her sister up under the armpits so Isha can shimmy the older woman's jeans down. There's red spotting in her boxers. Jinx signs, <Give us some privacy?> and Isha reluctantly complies, taking the laundry out for wash and only briefly returning to leave a set of comfy pajamas on the sink.
“I'm going to take the rest off now,” Jinx patiently explains. “I have to see how bad it is. Are you warm enough?”
Vi avoids her gaze, but gives a tiny nod. First comes off her sports bra, and the older woman groans at the need to raise her arms. Jinx can already see widespread bruising across her sister's ribs, prays nothing is broken, and there are bite marks all over the heavy breasts, nipples looking a particularly angry red. Vi's stomach tightens under labored breaths, or maybe just embarrassed ones. A 41-year-old housewife — because Caitlyn always insisted her spouse would never need to work — Vi's not as fit as she used to be, still strong but now softer too, especially around the middle.
Jinx rests her hands on Vi's hips for a moment, letting them both brace for what's next. With shaking arms, Vi holds herself off the commode for Jinx to cautiously peel down her boxers. Whispering apologies, she coaxes her sister to spread her bare legs.
An old fury rises in Jinx then, and she tamps it down, of no use right now. She'd had some brief flings with people who proved too curious about her body — how she could be both female and male at once. She'd let herself be used, youthful indiscretions, but never made the same mistake twice. Vi may have been alike physically, but she never seemed to learn. And this went beyond curious experimentation. This treatment is liable to leave permanent marks. Worse still was the dark blood which oozed from Vi's female slit, no doubt the result of recent forcible penetration with a foreign object.
“I have to document everything,” Jinx warns. “I'm not going to let Caitlyn keep getting away with treating you like this.”
“No!” shouts Vi, and it's the most energetic she's been all night. There's fear in her silver eyes, but not for herself, and Jinx hates that too. “I know it's—it looks bad, but I just need a few days' rest. Please, Jinx. I love her. She's getting better, I swear, this is just a little setback. Must'a forgot my safe word,” she jokes poorly, and the wry slant of her mouth suggests she's unconvinced by her own lie.
“No, Vi, not just a few days. You're staying here, at least until I'm satisfied that you're fully healed.” Jinx cuts off Vi's imminent protest with hands bracketing her face, making the woman wince, but meet her younger sister's unflinching stare. “We love you—really love you, like you deserve. This can be your home too. We're your home.”
She won't belabor the point, and Vi doesn't have gas left in the tank to put up anymore of a fight about it either. The older sister probably expended all of her willpower for the long drive from Piltover over the bolder into Holdrum territory.
Vi thickly mumbles, “Love you two... so f-fuckin' much,” and fat tears roll down her flushed cheeks.
They speak no more that night. Jinx cleans and dresses her sister's wounds with supplies from their first aid kit. Both of the younger women frequently accrue minor injuries from their various hobbies and occupations, so they're well-stocked. Jinx lays adhesive strips or wraps gauze around the spots with broken skin, tapes padded bandages over the worst bruising, tenderly rubs salve into the rest of Vi's abused flesh, and fashions a sling because she's favoring her right arm, which has a faint tremor in it.
Jinx helps her sister dress in the pajamas, then walks her to bed. The homestead is split across multiple modified shipping containers and this main dwelling provides several sleeping arrangements, as the mood strikes: a sunny reading lounge and the hammock upstairs, or a dark nest of blankets and throw pillows below. But Isha was clearly of the same mind, perched on the edge of their biggest bed. She assists in making sure Vi gets settled. Jinx draws closed blinds over the tall bay windows, so they have the luxury to sleep in when the Sun rises in a few hours.
They lie at Vi's sides and are careful not to crowd her. When her breathing becomes slow and steady, Jinx catches Isha's gaze. She touches fingertips to her chin and waves the hand out towards her. The younger woman smirks and rolls her eyes, as if she even needed to be thanked.
• • • • •
Before the week is out, Jinx and Isha have more visitors, and these one are most definitely unwelcome.
Vi's truck had been moved off the track and now there's an even more out-of-place luxury SUV parking in its former spot. From it emerges Caitlyn, overdressed as usual: Ruffled blouse, tight leather driving gloves, and even a goddamn mantle like some kind of Dracula, despite the midday heat. Though you wouldn't know it for how dry her brow is, how frigid her general mien. At the taller woman's heels, Maddie jogs to keep pace. She has the same wide-eyed, slightly terrified expression she always seems to whenever Jinx sees her, rare as these occasions are.
“I honestly dunno what's more insulting,” Jinx greets them. “You having the nerve to come here at all, or that you brought your side piece.” She leans casually against the door frame, and has a pistol held behind the wall today, but isn't expecting to use it. Caitlyn is a bitch, and an abuser, and a cop — redundant as that is — but she's not crazy.
“Oh no, I'm not—” Maddie starts, but is cut off by a single raised finger from her boss, pointed skyward like an accusation against Heaven itself.
Caitlyn's face is a placid mask, well-trained for her noble birth and high station, but there is a depth of hatred in her eyes which makes Jinx's skin crawl. She announces plainly, “I'm here for what's mine.”
“Gotcha covered, toots.”
Jinx withdraws the truck's key fob from her overalls pocket, then tosses it at the taller woman. Caitlyn snatches it from the air on pure reflex, and doesn't give it a second look.
“You know that's not to what I refer.”
“Like I said,” and Jinx juts her chin out.
Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Caitlyn opens her long fingers and looks properly into her palm. It contains one more item, looped to the fob by plastic zip-tie: a slim golden band twisted into a figure eight. Crushing the key chain in her fist depresses a button and the nearby truck beeps twice to acknowledge the doors unlocking, which makes Jinx snort, taking the edge off being subject to Caitlyn's searing temper.
The woman snaps, “This ring was worth more than your entire grubby little hovel!”
“This grubby hovel can be locked down to ride out a hurricane. Your ring couldn't withstand an ordinary pair of pliers. So what's it, and your so-called vows, really worth?”
Caitlyn's nostrils flare, lips twisted down in an exaggerated arch, and her eyes go so flinty that Jinx could strike a match off them. Then she howls, “Violet! Come here... now!”
The wind alone answers her.
“Hear that? It's your cue to kick rocks,” Jinx goads. Only now does she step away from the door frame and show her hand, literally. “I shouldn't have to remind you that you're on private property and we're faaar outside your jurisdiction, Sheriff.” She's tempted to put two in Caitlyn's chest right here and now, but that's the old — or rather, young — self-destructive teenage Jinx talking, and coming out here was supposed to be a fresh start. “So,” she says instead, “turn around and run along to your dank old manor while I'm still willing to suffer you to live after what you did to my sister.”
Bristling, Caitlyn threatens, “This isn't over,” then spins on her fascist heels. She shoves the truck key into Maddie's chest in passing.
“It better be,” counters Jinx at the tall woman's retreating back. “I already filed for divorce on Vi's behalf. Sign the papers, Cupcake. You know the phrase about a woman scorned? We've got you outnumbered!”
Behind her boss's back, Maddie makes a face that could be interpreted as sympathetic, not that Jinx cares to receive it. The harried ginger scrambles into the truck's elevated cab and floors it to catch up to Caitlyn's SUV speeding away.
Jinx watches both vehicles flee down her driveway, straight as arrows, and keeps watching until they climb the far hill, then disappear over the ridge and out of her valley. She lets out a held breath in relief. That could have gone a lot worse.
Turning back into her home, she makes her way to the nesting room. Inside, Vi and Isha are curled around each other, and the older woman is sobbing so hard that her whole body shakes in the other's arms. Face scarlet from exertion, unbound hand still clamped over her mouth to muffle her cries, Vi is rocked and soothed by Isha, who regards her housemate with unwavering determination.
They will protect her. They must protect her.
• • • • •
Jinx drags herself back to the main house after a long day in her private workshop, having finished up her latest piece for a Zaunite patron.
Most of her buyers are such, admirers of hers since the early days making activist street art; which may have allegedly involved unsanctioned demolition of Piltovan municipal property. Not that she was ever formally charged with committing a crime. Her art these days involves a lot more scrap metal and welding, but is no less politically motivated. (And while she wouldn't dream to claim it was her sole doing that her hometown won incorporation independent of Piltover, she did count herself among the “stalwart citizen-patriots” credited by Zaun's new City Council for making it a reality.) She'll contact her trustworthy proxy for the actual moving and transaction of said art in the morning.
Upon approach, the welcome sight of her big sister brings a smile to Jinx's weary face.
Vi reclines on a lawn chair in the garden, wearing some of Isha's baggier clothes. Though the shortest of the three, Isha really filled out after years of proper nutrition, and is close to the older woman in clothing size. Surrounded by planting boxes overflowing with life, Vi holds the remains of a glass of lemonade in hand, and is looking much recuperated. Most of the bruises have faded by now, and her healthier glow was helped along by lazy Summer days, as enforced by her housemates.
The urge to make mischief strikes Jinx, like in her adolescence. She sets down her lunch pail, then creeps between rows of vegetables. This close, she can tell that Vi's eyes are closed beneath her sunglasses. Once in range, Jinx hops over her sister's legs and drops onto her hips, to startle the lightly dozing woman. Vi yelps, dropping her lemonade.
“Heeeyy, good-lookin'!” Jinx teases, leaning over Vi with hands splayed to either side of her head. “Having fun all by your lonesome?”
Vi catches her breath from the shock and chuckles, squinting up at her sister from the Sun at her back. “Whoa—hey! I, haha yeah, I'm good. It's nice here, haven't felt this relaxed in—holy gods, Jinx, y-you wanna maybe put on a shirt?”
It's cute, the way Vi pretends to avert her eyes from Jinx's nakedness, but they keep dragging back after darting to the tree house, where Isha has been holing up lately. Jinx settles back onto the older woman's lap to get her chest out of her face, and brushes her front with thick rawhide gloves.
“Gets hot in the shop and I left my welding jacket back there to dry out. Why, suddenly don't like what you see?”
Vi swallows hard and consents to look again, never one to back down from a challenge, but her face turns horrified instead of lustful. Come to think of it, Jinx had forgotten how she must look to her sister now after so long apart, boob-less how she is. Lean and wiry as she ever was, even after she quit smoking, she now sports two mastectomy scars across a totally flat chest. Jinx misses her nipples sometimes, but is happy to have kept all her tattoos.
“Ooohh, right!” she laughs it off. “Got these for my thirty-third birthday. Breast cancer scare. Caught it early and thought, 'Why not nip it in the buds?' Not like I ever had much to work with in the first place. Sorry, sis, no tit jobs from me forthcoming... but maybe Isha would oblige you?” she adds with a wink.
The other woman stutters, having trouble formulating what to address first and where to start her next sentence. Finally, she comes out with, “Cancer? Why didn't you tell me?”
More sober now, “I tried. Guess who kept me from getting in touch with you?” Jinx takes Vi by the wrists and guides the woman's hands into touching her scarred chest. Smiling, “It's okay, see? Doesn't hurt a bit. I haven't been this flat since—”
Vi yanks her hands away, blushing and scandalized. “We're not dumb kids anymore,” she hisses. “And Isha's just over there!”
“And isn't a kid anymore either. She's twenty-eight this year, give or take.”
The housemates had never pinned down when exactly the younger was born, having lived as a half-feral orphan for as far back as she could remember. She and Isha decided to celebrate their birthdays together.
Looking down at her sister with heavy-lidded eyes, Jinx's tone goes sultry: “She's a grown ass woman, Vi. You don't think she has needs too?”
The other woman is momentarily stunned. “I didn't... know it was like that between you two.”
“Not to brag, but yeah, I'm kinda everything to her. Sister, mother, lover. Whatever see needs from me, I'm happy to provide.”
Jinx isn't teasing anymore, she's being sincere. It's worked out well for them so far, here in their private sanctuary. She wants Vi to understand, really understand, what it can mean for them all to be family, together. Jinx used to be jealous of Caitlyn over assuming those roles for Vi. Now she's just mad they lost so much time together because of that harridan.
“And... what is she to you?” asks Vi in a hushed voice. She sounds contemplative, pondering aloud to fill the charged space between sisters more than anything else.
“Isha is everything I was missing,” answers Jinx simply, while standing off her sister. She backpedals to retrieve her lunch pail while talking. “We're free out here. No rules. No boundaries. No taboos. If there's something you want, you just gotta know how to ask.”
Smiling wide, Jinx demonstrates with a single crooked finger, tapping her bunched cheek at the top and bottom.
• • • • •
Soon enough, Isha reveals what she'd been making in her tree house: A punching bag is dropped from the tree's sturdiest branch. It's made of burlap and hand-stitched animal furs, leftover from past hunting successes, stuffed with straw and old rags. Vi tests the weight with a one-two, her form looking a bit rusty, but she approves. Isha also gifts her fresh rolls of hemp hand wraps, to spare her knuckles. It's exactly the kind of thoughtful, practical gift which Jinx and Isha traditionally give to each other, and is the surest indicator that they intend Vi to stay for the long haul.
Without the toxic presence of Caitlyn Kiramman befuddling her rational mind, Vi has no qualms accepting the gift and the gesture. She teaches Isha how to wrap a boxer's knuckles and wrists properly. The younger woman is a quick study, then presses kisses to the backs of wrapped fists, for good luck. Vander used to do the same thing. From behind, Jinx sees Vi's shoulders heave. Her sister pulls Isha into a rough and enveloping embrace. She gets a bit misty-eyed herself.
Vi throws herself back into her old passion for boxing and physical fitness, training herself back up to fighting form. Barely ever takes off her wraps and has to be cajoled into letting them be washed. Starts becoming the first one up in the morning to go on runs around the valley. She's a terror to the local wildlife; birds, deer, and groundhogs scatter from her path.
Isha just about loses her mind with (nearly) silent laughter when Vi brings home a wild hog one afternoon, which she claims to have subdued barehanded. They make a lu'au out of it, eating and singing and dancing the night away around a roaring campfire.
• • • • •
Maddie Nolen returns to the valley alone, but not unannounced. Had the foresight to first get in touch with Jinx through her proxy, so she could arrange for Vi and Isha to be out of the house. Maddie doesn't ask where they are and Jinx doesn't tell her.
What Caitlyn's 'personal assistant' does do is bring two large rolling suitcases of Vi's personal affects from the Kiramman Manor. Upon inspection, it appears to be what little she owned before getting married to the bitch. Everything that was bought for her is staying in closets which are surely bigger than any single structure of Jinx's homestead.
“She ordered me to dispose of these,” comes the explanation. “Didn't specify how.”
Maddie's freckled complexion is buried under a layer of foundation, which can hide the discoloration but not the puffiness of her black eye, and there are yellow/purple spots around her neck peeking out from the top of her starched collar. Although the woman's cheeks are dry now, fresh redness rimming her eyelids suggest she was crying recently, on the drive over.
“Tell her to sign the damn papers already,” Jinx replies in lieu of a thank you.
“You know she won't. And why. Good day.”
Maddie turns to depart and Jinx's better nature overrides her grudge, prompting her to ask: “What about you? You can leave her too. I mean, I ain't letting you move in here, but nobody deserves to put up with this abuse, not even you.”
The other woman has a thousand yard stare. “T'were it so simple. I still have a job to do.”
• • • • •
Summer fades to Autumn and the trees of the valley turn into a slow-motion fireworks display.
Vi keeps up her routine, and although she may never be quite as svelte as she once was, the woman seems more comfortable in her skin now than she was for almost twenty years of marriage. Over these past months, Vi and Jinx never again discussed the matter they'd left hanging in the garden. And if she thought her sister was just having a bit of fun at her expense, that notion is dispelled the second she walks in on Jinx and Isha in the nesting room.
It was October 10th, their shared birthday. After a light breakfast of fruit and oats, Isha waited all of five minutes for Vi to leave on her morning aerobics, then had signed <Sex?> at her housemate from the other side of the breakfast nook.
Jinx isn't an overly amorous person by nature, but she enjoys some vigorous intercourse as much as anybody, and Isha must have been working on her come hither look. Amber eyes peer out from under a wavy brown fringe, and her sharp, bow-shaped lips pull to the side, full cheeks rosy. She affects a convincing sashay across the house and Jinx's eyes follow those wide, round hips. Both women shed articles of clothing until they're nude, and duck under the low ceiling of the nest. It isn't the dark they're after, or even privacy, but the many large cushions and cozy blankets are perfect support for a range of creative positions.
When Vi walks in on her housemates, this is what she sees:
Isha is face down, her round face and sizable breasts flat on a fleece throw, lower half elevated atop a beanbag. Jinx sits behind her, their legs scissored, clutching one of the younger woman's thick thighs while her own opposite leg is folded over her partner's ass. A lithe torso undulates, driving their conjoined sexes together. They're both glossy with a sheen of sweat. Jinx's long cock, naturally pale as the rest of her body, is safely sheathed in latex, and is being driven again and again into Isha's plump pussy. Cute little mewls punch out of the younger woman every time their mounds collide, corresponding to wet splats of slick-sodden flesh.
Jinx locks eyes with her sister, and she doesn't stop. She knows Vi can smell the damp fragrance of wanton sex wafting out of the nest. Knows what kind of shared memories it triggers. Also knows Vi's aroused by the rising tent in her running shorts, rooted where she stands.
Isha climaxes for the fifth time in the two hours they've been at it. Her voluptuous body jiggles as she goes fully boneless, to slide off the beanbag and lay sprawled on the floor, limbs akimbo. Jinx's own climax starts inside her partner, but when the younger woman drops away, she is content to lean back on her hands and let her dick bob in the open air. Vi is transfixed by the tip of her sister's condom ballooning larger with each pulse of jism which spurts from her. When she's spent, Jinx removes and ties off the rubber, then blows her sister a kiss.
Vi's mouth gapes. Wires crossed, she both says and signs, “I'm gonna go... take a shower,” so at least she's getting practice in.
Jinx gives her big sister a few minutes to get her bearings before joining her.
Aside from the main structure's spacious bathroom, with its copper fixtures and old-timey clawfoot tub, the homestead also has an outdoor shower and in-ground hot tub for enjoying nice weather — or for escaping temptation, in this case. Ultimately to no avail, as temptation herself finds Vi standing beneath the shower head, stiff arms braced against the open stall's two L-shaped wood slat walls. She lets cold water turn her overheated body to a mass of goosebumps in the chilly Autumn air.
“You can't expect me to step into that,” Jinx interjects. The older sister jumps at her voice, whirling around so fast that she almost slips. Despite the self-imposed cooldown, Vi's own turgid member is still rock hard, Jinx observes with approval. She spins the tap so the water runs hot instead, then joins her sister under the stream. “There, isn't that better?”
“What about Isha?” Vi asks. She sounds guilty, but the strong hands which settle upon Jinx's shoulders aren't pushing her away.
“Totally blissed out.” Jinx lathers her hands with their homemade soap-on-a-rope, and starts spreading the suds across her sister's hard body, savoring the feel she's craved for ages. “She'll be good like that until about lunchtime.”
The older woman sighs, eyelids fluttering closed under Jinx's loving ministrations. She soaps up Vi's neck, shoulders, and chest, paying special attention to her bust (which hasn't sagged yet despite her age), then down her sides and across abs. She's slimmed down, but still has a bit of love handles, and Jinx yearns to make good use of them. She skips going lower to lean close and slide sudsy palms around her sister's back.
Vi hums and grab the smaller woman by the waist to pull them together, skin to skin. Jinx had gone soft after servicing Isha, but with Vi's thicker, darker, heavier cock nudging her flaccid twig and berries, it won't be much longer before the stimulation has her bouncing back. Her hips cant up, letting the member probe between her thighs. She kisses Vi under the steaming spray.
“You could catch a cold out here like this,” warns her big sister playfully, in between lips and tongue working along Jinx's.
“Better keep me warm then,” she responds. One arm loops around Vi's neck to pull herself a bit higher, and a leg hikes over her sister's hip suggestively. “Besides, you still owe me a birthday present.”
Vi's strong hands take hold of Jinx's pert ass and raised thigh, and she grinds into her little sister's crotch. Behind the tightening scrotum, her vagina dribbles over the curve of Vi's member a far stickier fluid than the shower water running down their bodies. Jinx wriggles her free hand between them to guide her sister into place.
“Shouldn't—ah!—we glove up?”
“Too late!” Jinx groans at being so full after so long. “Just make me cum before you do.”
Vi pants into her sister's neck. “Been a while... for me... baby girl. Mmmm, no promises.”
“I trust you,” and their lips mold together.
They bump and grind in the shower while the late morning Sun shines onto them, cloaked from Autumn's brisk wind by clouds of steam and shared body heat. The homestead is built over a natural aquifer and well water isn't running dry anytime soon.
Jinx has only the toes of one foot on the slatted shower floor, but feels totally secure draped over her bigger, stronger sister. Vi thrusts up into the smaller woman for as long as she's able, gripped by velvet walls massaging her every ridge and vein. She goes hard, fast, and deep, just how Jinx remembers. Fortunately, that the younger is already close to the edge of a vaginal orgasm after the prior tryst. Jinx sings out at the tipping over it, like cresting a roller coaster and the rapid swoop down. She slips off her sister's cock, just in time too, for Vi to spray Jinx with cum from the naval down.
They cuddle and nuzzle after that. Jinx enjoys Vi's muscles, as well as the sensation of thick digits dragging up and down her spine, scrubbing across her buzzcut, and they give themselves a much needed breather. Then the younger sister takes elder by the shoulders and entices her to turn around.
Vi is more hesitant about this, and Jinx is mindful of her sister's most recent experience with being taken unkindly. She murmurs love and encouragement into her broad back, and scratches the many hills and valleys of her tattooed canvas.
When the woman's trembling has subsided, Jinx grabs handfuls of Vi's mature body and guides her to squat just so. Then slides a renewed cock into the quivering snatch with one smooth motion. Vi sucks in a breath and it comes out a deep rumble which Jinx can feel too. She begins fucking her sister in earnest. Having drained her balls once today so far, the younger can plow for a good while. The long, slow strokes of somebody who knows what Vi likes draw an earthshaking orgasms out of the bigger woman, leaving her muscular frame clinging weakly to the water pipes for support. Satisfied by their therapeutic progress, Jinx pulls out and finishes herself off again with a few more manual pumps, briefly painting Vi's ass before the semen washes away.
It takes many minutes more before they recover after all that, and finish showering off properly. Jinx and Vi wrap in plush towels and scamper back into the house, drying each other off (badly) in between kissing and giggling like they're teenagers again.
From the galley-style kitchen, Isha snaps her fingers for the sisters' attention. She's dressed in a tank top and boy shorts that do little to preserve her modesty, which probably isn't the point, and quirks an eyebrow as if to ask, “Had your fun?”
She's standing at a hot griddle and wielding a turner, but that doesn't impede her from signing, <I'm hungry for bacon and pancakes,> then makes a curious gesture of rolling her wrist and fingers flicking outward. Jinx is certain her sister hasn't learned it yet.
Thrown off by the home signs, Vi turns to her for a translation. Jinx smiles behind her hand.
“There's some—heheh—nuance to it, but she basically said 'Hope you have syrup leftover'.”
• • • • •
Thanks to a cold front blowing in over the sea, Winter comes early to the valley. Snow blankets the fields and forest in a familiar, welcome calm from all the excitement of Summer and Fall.
An unmarked box truck rattles and coughs black smog, forging its way through unplowed snow banks, and circumnavigates the main domicile to approach Jinx's workshop instead. While she and Isha were mostly self-sufficient, adding Vi to the household necessitates reassessed budgeting and additional resources. Standing outside, Jinx steadily feeds a bonfire with burnable clutter and sundry items beyond repair or reuse. She's unconcerned by the newcomer, because no matter the weather, their quarterly supply drop and objet d'art retrieval is always right on time.
Sevika may have missed her calling at the post office. That thought makes Jinx snort.
“When are you going to get that ol' jalopy tuned up? I saw it blowing coal from miles away and I've half a mind to do it myself,” she complains to her.
The older woman snarls back, “If it ain't broke, don't fix it.” Acclimated to the perpetual urban warmth of Zaun, Sevika is bundled up in a beanie, scarf, and wool great cloak. To be fair, having a mechanical arm fused to her flesh must be Hell once the cold sets in. “Here, mail call,” and she thrusts a larger than usual bundle of envelopes and parcels into Jinx's hands.
The younger woman snickers. Under Sevika's questioning glare, she brushes it off: “Inside joke, never-you-mind. But what the hell is all this?”
“What am I, your secretary? See for yourself. I'mma start unloading.”
The vast majority of Jinx's correspondence is digital and Sevika knows better than to bother her with junk mail. She flips through the stack, none of which have a return address, but their common origin is made blatant by the crossed-keys sigil stamp. Suppressing her distaste, Jinx opens a few, knowing what she'll find: none of the legal documents she'd been waiting on, but a lot of handwritten letters of romantic appeal, and gifts of delicate jewelry.
Caitlyn, the stupid bint. 'Love bombing' only works when it's daily and relentless, not dumped all at once in an easily discarded pile. Jinx doesn't hesitate to toss the lot of it in the bonfire. No need to trouble Vi with any of this.
After the supplies have been stowed away and Jinx helped her refill the truck's interior with carefully wrapped sculptures for sale, Sevika asks, “How's the kid?”
“Still in one piece.” Jinx side-eyes the older woman, who is stubbornly avoiding her gaze. “Vi is good too, by the by. Isha's teaching her how to trap hares.”
Responding with a surly growl of, “Did I ask?” Sevika lights a cigarette and lingers longer than usual by the bonfire. Ostensibly to warm up. Not at all tempting fate in case the younger woman's housemates happen to return. When it's worn down to the filter and Jinx's sole company no longer satisfies, Sevika scoffs quietly and chucks it into the blaze, then salutes a wordless goodbye.
In the distance, two figures pause while trudging through the snowy field and wave at her departing truck. Even from this far away, seeing her sisters fans the embers in Jinx's chest pleasantly, as always. And one of these days, she'll get Sevika to thaw out too.
• • • • •
“Ooohh... oh, fuucck. O~oh, Powder—!”
Vi goes rigid, clapping hands over her mouth. Her silvery eyes blow out wide and shoot nervously toward Jinx, where her younger sister lays at the other side of The Big Bed™ idly stroking herself and watching Isha give their eldest housemate the 'lily of the valley' treatment. It's the 19th of December and Vi's 42nd birthday. They're snowed in. It also happens to be a 'safe' day, given their synchronized ovulation cycles, and they're making the most of it.
Funnily enough, Vi hadn't given Isha a proper dicking until now. They cuddled and made out as much as either did with Jinx, usually leaving the older woman a blushing mess, but she always looped her sister in when it came time to bump uglies. It seemed Vi had transferred her more 'pure' sibling affections onto the brunette, now that the blood sisters were coupling regularly. It was a silly hangup and Isha was determined to disabuse her of it.
Busty as the youngest had become into her adulthood, Vi's malehood still didn't quite disappear between the generous heaps of almond-hued mammaries. Isha presses the flesh with aplomb, scrubbing up and down the erect member, and rivulets of precum make her chest and cleavage glisten. She tucks her chin, so whenever Vi's dusky bell end peaks out, she can peck the tip with kisses. Eyes down and focused, Isha didn't catch Vi's faux pas. Her continued efforts only serve to make the older woman more visibly distressed over her impending release.
After their last round, Jinx was content to give the other two women space, but this prompts her to rise and crawl next to Vi. She shushes her whimpering big sister, carding a forgiving hand through wild red locks.
“It's okay,” she husks into Vi's ear, nibbling around the shell. “She can be Powder. I can be Powder.” Jinx chuckles while her tongue lathes a quickened pulse point. “You can be Powder too, and I'll roleplay the big handsome butch corrupting her little sister.”
Vi's hands tremble, fingers peeling away for her to squeak: “Jinx, that's not— I'm sorry—”
“Enough! That's... all in the past, Sis,” Jinx finishes more softly. When Isha takes Vi's dickhead into her mouth with sloppy and noisy suction, Jinx swallows the older woman's moans. She guides her arms down to encircle a slim waist where they belong, and urges, “Put those strong hands to good use, won'cha?”
Reassured, Vi lets her hands drift between Jinx's legs and around her ass. She takes up stroking her little sister's long white cock in one hard palm, while the thick digits of her other ply Jinx's womanhood for entry. Masturbated skillfully from both ends, an insistent pressure builds low in her core, like a leak plugged by Vi's fingers now seeking escape from Jinx's hot male pipe instead.
“You're so good to me,” Vi whispers into her ear. “So good for me, baby. Gonna come?” Jinx hums her assent, too enraptured to form words, and she feels more than sees her sister grinning, “Me too, gods, me too. Here, aim it—unf—aim it at... at Powder.” Jinx angles her hips as best she's able and the pace of Vi's beat off crescendos, while fingers scissor deep inside the younger sister's quim. “Yeah, just like that. Let's paint our little girl's face so she knows just how good she's being.”
Out of consideration for Isha, Jinx waggles an outstretched hand and manages to ruffle chestnut curls, which succeeds at getting her attention so she can prepare. Bright amber eyes closed, cute mouth open wide in an 'O', she takes their simultaneous cumshots like a pro. Jinx throws a rope over Isha's button nose and then scores a direct hit onto her lolling pink tongue. Vi's first eruption misses the mark and flies above Isha's head, to rain down in thick gobs onto her hair. Subsequent blasts catch her on the chin and across her collarbones, stringing a pearl necklace which dribbles beads down to her tits.
All three woman settle down to catch their breath. Jinx and Vi watch Isha rub their cock cream into her skin like a balm, and fuck if it isn't erotic as all Hell. When her eyes open again, they're two points of golden fire, vibrating with unmet want. She sucks and wets her lips, then flaps a series of emphatic signs:
<Need you. Both of you. Now.>
Isha licks a stripe up Vi's cock from root to tip, causing her to gasp and hips to jump, but wastes no more time than that, and clambers astride the older woman. Her voluptuous body is mesmerizing in the action: heaving breasts dangling, round buttocks popped. Without further preamble, she takes hold of Vi's penis and sinks onto it raw. The elder sister's hands fly to her youngest lover's wide hips. Isha grinds down until Vi is taken whole, and their pubes enmesh. She jerks a thumb at Jinx to hurry up and get into position.
Re-energized, Jinx presses a kiss to Vi, then Isha. The two of them start making out while she moves around back. Their contrasting skin tones writhing against each other is a delectable sight, like cream and coffee mixing. Jinx is paler still, Summer's tan long gone, and she slaps her ivory rod onto Isha's thick ass cheeks. The younger woman arches to reveal Vi's swollen rod sunken into her cunt, stretching her labia. Just above that, a brown eye winks for Jinx's attention. Obligingly, she prods it with her tip and works herself into the tight hole a little at a time, coinciding with Vi's shallow rut. Isha chirps at each additional inch. Jinx's flat scarred chest slides smoothly over her sweaty back.
Finally, all three women are slotted together as deep as they can go. Isha sandwiched between, Jinx cranes over her shoulder to swap spit with her sister, then they ravish both sides of the younger woman's neck. Slow grinding gradually builds as they find their rhythm, until the two eldest are pounding Isha's holes hard enough for even The Big Bed™ to rock on its frame. Four hands compete for real estate to stroke and squeeze Isha's soft body. Her fat ass and tight ring are a bottomless pit that Jinx could fall into forever. Balls slap against each other in passing, tingling little stabs of sweet ache which cements this position as Jinx's favorite.
Adrift in the roiling waves of flesh, Isha clings to Vi's shoulders like a drowning sailor does to flotsam. The older sister fondles her breasts, massaging none too gently and thumbing the dark brown nipples, erect like chocolate candies. The younger sister sneaks one clever hand between their bodies and furiously drubs Isha's clit with calloused digits. It's too much stimulation for her on all fronts.
Isha keens at her climax, a matter of base animal instinct. It's shrill, long, and loud; the most Jinx or Vi ever heard from her. The woman's inner walls are so perfectly tight, coiling around their cocks, that she wrings ever more cum from the sisters despite their prior exertions. Separated only by thin membranes, Jinx can feel each of Vi's powerful throbs. And just when she thinks she's done cumming, another surges out of her. Her vision going white, she
gropes blindly with hungry lips and finds Vi, as she ever does. The sisters filling Isha's ass and pussy with their seed, to overflow and mingle between their clenching sacks, is the closest Jinx has ever felt to Heaven. She prays that these days never end.
Of course, she had to jinx it.
• • • • •
Ringing in the new year is a comparatively somber affair. Jinx introduces Vi to their household's tradition: lighting candles in remembrance of those they lost, sharing fond memories and letting themselves grieve. Which means it was mostly Jinx trying to come up with something new to say every year, since Isha had literally no one else before her.
There are white candles for Vander and Silco, two yellow for Mylo and Claggor. Four black candles out of respect for Jinx's mostly-forgotten parents, as well as Isha's unknown ones, whoever they were. In the drawer where these are kept, there are four more unused candles rattling around which Jinx hopes to never light: Red for Vi, green for Ekko, purple for Sevika, and blue for herself. There is no other. Gods forbid Jinx ever have to bury Isha, because she knows in her heart that she'll follow soon after, and raze the whole homestead to the ground for Isha's vigil.
Vi's contribution to their annual ceremony breathes new life into old ghosts. She reminds her sister of their parents' names for the first time in decades: Felicia, a vibrant soul bringing light to every room she entered. Connol, sober and dedicated to providing for his family. She regales the younger women with tales of small daily rituals which brought her comfort, and embarrassing antics made hilarious with the passage of time. Vander's wisdom and guidance. Mylo's sharp wit. Claggor's gentleness. When she gets lost and forgets to sign for Isha, Jinx translates, and they huddle in close, impervious to Winter's frost.
The worst of the season's snowfall seems to abate in late January. Cold remains, but the sky is high and vast and so bright that Jinx can't stand to look at it too long. She practically hibernates this time of year, Isha and Vi alternating at keeping her company or off doing their own things.
Or each other. By now, Vi is also an adherent to the worship of Isha's butt, and she prays often.
Notably, Vi takes up a new hobby. Jinx has plenty of scrap machines around for artistic material and her older sister finds a vintage motorcycle which begs for a little TLC. Her shop otherwise going unused, Jinx temporarily cedes the space for Vi to tinker, and she somehow get it backs into fine working order. Vi fills the gas tank from the homestead's reserve and takes it on a madcap joyride through the valley, Isha hanging off her back like a monkey.
Jinx knows she should be pleased — proud, even — but watching them from the porch, wrapped in a downy quilt, this feels like a bad omen. And she's right, precisely when she doesn't want to be.
“Don't do this, Vi. There's no point going back now.”
Isha concurs, following the sisters around the homestead, tears leaving salty tracks down her ruddy cheeks. She's having trouble expressing her own thoughts because her hands are shaking so much.
It's late March and temperatures are starting to climb above freezing. The unpaved track is slushy, but open all the way to the ridge line, and Vi takes this as an auspicious portent to make the trip back to Piltover. Just a few days there and back, to settle affairs. She relays her plans, packs saddle bags, and can't be dissuaded from her course. Short of physically restraining the eldest woman, there is nothing Jinx and Isha can do to stop her.
“She's made us wait long enough, Jinx. Caitlyn isn't someone to be trifled with and a measly border isn't going to keep her at bay forever,” Vi reasons, the umpteenth new way of saying the same things over the past 24 hours. “She's petty enough to invade and eminent domain this land out from under us, just out of spite. I don't want her hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives!”
It's not even just about her estranged wife, Vi argues. She wants to touch base with Ekko too, even old work colleagues like Loris and Steb. And if everything goes smoothly, she'll be coming back alongside Sevika's Spring supply run.
Vi hugs both women whom she loves most of all in the world, kissing them, promising them it'll all be okay, and that she'll be back before they can start to miss her. She leaves with a brave face, and her motorcycle vanishes over the horizon. Jinx doesn't cry. The inconsolable Isha is a bottomless fountain of waterworks. She's got them both covered.
Days pass. Sevika arrives and shakes her head, having heard no news of Jinx's truant sister. Jinx bums a cigarette off her and they smoke in silence.
Then weeks. Snow melts in earnest and the fields are sprouting with the first hardy wildflowers which poke through frost, yearning for the Sun: yarrow, toadflax, prairie-fire. And at the tree line, in the shade of new leaf shoots, arrives the startling face of wood violets.
Domestic responsibilities of the homestead notwithstanding, Isha spends all her free time in the tree house, watching the valley's entrance through her spyglass. Jinx rolls the red candle between her fingers, debating whether to light it or break it. Her grip tightens.
Maybe it's time to remind the city of Piltover why it used to fear her name.