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Zelda is leaning against the wall of the second smallest guest room, arms crossed, as she watches Hilda bang ineffectually on the door. “Edward Archibald Spellman! You unlock this door right this minute! Do you hear me? Hello? Mortimer? Let me out!” Zelda takes a deep breath and wishes for her cigarettes, but whatever enchantment has locked them in together seems to prohibit any summoning or vanishing, “It’s no use, Hilda. We simply have to wait until they figure out how to break the enchantment.” Hilda spins around so that her back is against the door. She looks like a cornered animal as her eyes dart wildly around the room. She glances at the window for a moment before she shakes her head and asks, slightly hysterically, “And how bloody long will that take? Do they even know we’re in here? I can’t stay in this room with you for the rest of my days! Not that there will be very many more— we don’t even have any food!” Hilda is working herself into a snit the likes of which Zelda hasn’t seen since they were at the Paris world’s fair. Zelda had only ditched Hilda to spend a few nights at the Moulin Rouge and Hilda had carried on about it for months after. “Dear Satan, I’m going to die in here with my bloody sister,” Hilda slides down the door, hugs her knees to her chest, buries her face there, and promptly starts to cry. Zelda bristles at that last bit. She sniffs disdainfully and says, “And what’s that supposed to mean? You’re not exactly my first choice for company either.” Hilda only lets out a wail of despair and continues sobbing into her hands. Zelda blows out a frustrated sigh. She’s not getting anywhere with this little spat and she’s not even in the mood for an argument. Not when they’re stuck together in this spare bedroom for the foreseeable future. Zelda has decided that it’s not time to panic just yet, as it’s only been 15 minutes or so. They will simply have to wait and trust that Edward and Mortimer will find a way out of this mess. Those two got them into it in the first place, after all, though Zelda suspects that it was mostly Edward’s doing and Mortimer merely got roped into his crisis of the week. “Hilda, calm down. Your melodramatics are not helping anyone.” “I c-c-can’t calm down!” Hilda sobs, “I’ve already st-started and now it’s hopeless!” Oh. This might be worse than Zelda thought. It’s rare for Hilda to have one of her little meltdowns, and when she does, Zelda usually just kills her to make her stop. Once Hilda emerges from the garden she’s always too tired to continue her crying and yelling and that means she’s able to talk through whatever’s the matter. Killing isn’t an option though, stuck, as they are, with no idea when they’ll be out and able to get Hilda’s body to the Cain pit. Alright. Zelda can handle this. She just needs to think of what to do. When Hilda was younger and would cry, she went to their mother for comfort. Mother had always babied Hilda and let her get away with things Zelda never could have. Zelda figures she’ll just do what she’s seen Mother do dozens of times when they were small. She crosses the room rather cautiously until she is at Hilda’s side. She kneels and carefully puts an arm around Hilda. When it is not shrugged off, she wraps Hilda up in a proper hug. It’s actually almost nice to have Hilda in her arms again, like when they were children. Well, it would be if Hilda wasn’t getting tears, and probably snot too, all over the front of her dress. Zelda tries not to think about it. “Shhhh,” she says, feeling as though she’s grasping at straws, “there, there… it’ll be alright,” She drops a kiss on the top of Hilda’s head, and rocks her back and forth a little. She tries shushing her again, tries a few more of the meaningless platitudes that Mother brings out for the bereaved mortals. They stay like that for quite some time, and one of Zelda’s feet starts to fall asleep because of the way she’s sitting on it. After a while, though, it seems to start working, at least a little bit. Hilda’s sobs have begun to decrescendo into the occasional sniffle and Zelda thinks maybe Hilda has calmed down enough to talk to her like a rational person. “What could possibly have you so worked up about this, sister? It’s not like you to panic this way.” Hilda sniffs again, and mumbles something into Zelda’s chest where her head is buried. “What was that?” Hilda looks up at Zelda with red, puffy eyes. Her cherubic cheeks are wet with tears, and her nose is running as she says, more angrily than Zelda expected, “I said , I have a date, if you must know,” Zelda’s heart does a funny lurch in her chest and her brow furrows. “Who with?” Zelda demands at the same time that Hilda continues, “And it’s only in a few hours, and now I’m going to be late or miss it all together and I won’t have time to get ready and I’ll look awful, which is guaranteed now I’ve been crying, and he’ll hate me and I’ll never get another chance and I’ll be alone forever and- and-“ the tears return full force. Zelda realizes that her hands are gripping Hilda rather tightly and she attempts to relax her fingers. “Who is this date with, Hildegard?” She says firmly. Hilda takes a shuddering breath and says, “Rudolph,” at Zelda’s blank look she adds, “Rudolph Cowen.” A wave of relief washes over Zelda. The boy is a complete joke. Hilda can do better than him, Lucifer, even a decent looking mortal would be out of his league. Never mind his rather nonexistent good looks— he has dreadful pockmarked scars across his face from trying to hex his acne away in school— he’s a complete bore: utterly unoriginal and pretentious about it too, as if he was Satan’s blessing to all witches on earth. “Oh, Hilda,” Zelda almost laughs, “that moron is nothing to cry about,” she rubs some small circles on Hilda’s back and goes on, “tell me you weren’t seriously considering letting him defile you.” Hilda resurfaces, eyebrows drawn together along with a full blown pout painted across her face. “I like him, Zelda. He’s nice to me, as foreign as that concept might seem to you,” “Oh please. He can be perfectly pleasant when he wants something, I’ll give you that, but he has about two brain cells in that thick skull. He’s an idiot, Hilda. You can do better than the Cowen boy,” “But he fancies me and that’s never happened with anybody else before. Zelda, what if this is my only chance?” Hilda has a point. It’s not as if witches and warlocks are lining up to go out with her sister. Hilda had caught the eye of many young witches and warlocks during their academy days, but Zelda had used her considerable social capital to put an end to that. It seems her warnings and threats have followed those would-be suitors of their coven into adulthood, Zelda notes with a small amount of pride in her teenage self. Besides, it’s a bloody good thing Zelda had stepped in when she did. Hilda is far too sensitive about these things. Exhibit A being this very situation. She would probably think that the first person who tries to fuck her will want to get married, and she’ll inevitably end up disappointed and heartbroken. Then she’ll probably come running to Zelda, expecting her to pick up the pieces. As if Zelda were any good at that sort of thing. See, once again: exhibit A. “Nonsense, sister. You’re far too good for him. Besides, he’s likely only interested in the Spellman bloodline. You know the Cowens’ numbers have been dwindling ever since that nasty business in Russia with the Romanovs,” Hilda forcefully pushes herself out of Zelda’s arms. “Right,” Hilda chokes out from a few feet away, “because I’m so bloody stupid and ugly, he couldn’t possibly genuinely like me as a person, could he?” Her rhetorically angry question is punctuated by crossed arms and a glare that isn’t as effective as it might be had she not been crying her eyes out seconds before. Zelda blinks in surprise. She had meant to comfort— surely Hilda would never be happy in a union like that— but, of course, she had gone and ruined it, made everything worse. She seems to have gotten quite good at that in recent decades. “No, Hilda, that’s not what I me—,”she’s cut off with a harsh, “I know exactly what you meant. It’s not as if you’re subtle about your feelings toward me,” Zelda blanches, but Hilda goes on, her voice ragged from crying, “You h-hate me!” Wait. What? Does Hilda truly think that? Zelda feels her throat start to hurt as it goes tight in that way that means tears are not far off. “Hilda…” Hilda sniffs and rubs angrily at her face with the knitted sleeve of her cardigan, before fixing her glare back on Zelda. Zelda feels utterly at loose ends, confused and unsure how to move forward. “I’ve never… Hilda, I could never hate you,” Hilda scoffs, “Oh please. Don’t lie to me Zelda, you don’t have to. I got the hint after a few decades of constant murdering, not to mention the fact that you’ve bullied me and tormented me our entire lives!” A wave of cold anger washes over Zelda. As if Zelda hasn’t always done everything in her power to protect Hilda since they were children. As if she hasn’t looked after her sister, thanklessly and unflinchingly, for nearly a century. Fine. If that’s how Hilda wants to see Zelda, then so be it. Zelda doesn’t need to listen to Hilda’s ridiculous hysterics. “I see. Believe whatever you want, sister, I apologize for trying to be nice to you. My mistake. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Zelda rises far less gracefully than she would have liked and grits her teeth through the pins and needles in her foot as she stalks over to the bed. She flops down flat on her back, pointedly crosses her arms, and shuts her eyes. She’ll just ignore Hilda until the boys get them out and then she’ll throttle Hilda, or maybe stab her a few times. After all, if Hilda is going to say that her older sister hates her, who is Zelda to prove her wrong?
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s been nearly half an hour of Zelda’s controlled, quiet breathing and Hilda’s occasional sniffles. Despite the collected façade she is trying to put up, Zelda is beginning to worry. It’s been over an hour. What could possibly be taking Edward so long? Isn’t Mortimer helping him? Surely they can figure this out between the two of them— for Satan’s sake, Cousin Mortimer had recently finished up his fifth (or was it sixth?) degree at a prestigious New Orleans graduate program. And their brother graduated top of his class at the academy only a few years ago. Maybe Hilda was right earlier; maybe the boys don’t even realize that they’re stuck here.
Zelda realizes she has been anxiously strumming her fingers on her biceps. She stops, re-crosses her arms, and digs in her fingers to stop them from moving. She will surely have ten small, finger-shaped bruises tomorrow.
She feels the bed dip next to her, catches a wave of Hilda’s scent as it drifts past her; it usually calms her, comforts her, the smell of fresh honeyed bread edged in something earthy. She steels herself against it, tries not to breath Hilda in. She’s angry with her. No matter how nice she smells, no matter how sweet she is, that fact remains. With the resentful thought of her rage renewed in her mind, she stays as still as possible. Although she can’t stop herself from gripping her arms even harder.
“Zelda?”
Zelda gives no indication that she has heard her.
“I know you’re not asleep, sister,”
Zelda squeezes her eyes shut tighter. She feels the warmth of Hilda’s hand hovering over her shoulder and a vicious, vindictive part of her wishes her sister would touch her and give her an excuse to explode. Hilda seems to sense Zelda’s aversion to being touched at the moment and the hovering heat of her hand retreats.
“I’m sorry I said that…y’know, earlier.” When Zelda stays silent and still, Hilda goes on, “Zelds… come on, I didn’t mean it. I know you don’t hate me,” Zelda cracks one eye open to look at her sister suspiciously, “...much,” Hilda adds with a forced little chuckle.
Zelda shuts her eyes again and settles herself further into the mattress. She hears Hilda blow out a breath in frustration.
“Alright, alright. Zelda, please… I’m sorry I said it, I know it’s not true,” she sighs, “please, sister. I love you, Zelda, I need you. Please don’t be angry with me anymore. I really am sorry I said it,”
Zelda opens both eyes now and props herself up on her elbows to give Hilda a penetrating once over as she considers whether or not she wants to accept this apology. Hilda is kneeling beside her, hands clasped in front of herself, a puppy dog look in her big blue eyes. As much as Zelda truly does want to hate her sister, she just… doesn’t; she can’t. She was telling Hilda the absolute, humiliating truth earlier. Lilith and fucking Lucifer, she is such a sucker.
“Who took care of you day and night and nursed you back to health when you nearly died of Spanish influenza?”
A tentative, hopeful smile starts to spread across Hilda’s face.
“You did,” she says.
“Who saved you from those mutinous mortal sailors back in the 70’s, when you thought you wanted to be a pirate-- that is, until you realized it was actually quite dangerous and, really, what you needed was a holiday in Portugal?”
Hilda is practically beaming now.
“It was you, sister,” she answers.
“And who helped you run away to be a nurse in that mortal civil war, and then persuaded Father not to disown you, even though he’d forbidden you from getting involved?”
Hilda squeals in delight and throws herself on top of Zelda in a crushing hug. Zelda can’t hold in a small smile of her own as Hilda knocks her back down on the bed.
“You, Zelda, it’s always you,” Hilda says as she peppers Zelda’s face with tiny kisses all over and then gives her another affectionate squeeze. She puts on a silly high-pitched voice, the kind that she imagines those silent picture ingenues might have, “My savior, my Zelda, however would I survive without you?” She plants a loud wet kiss on Zelda’s cheek and sighs dramatically, “My hero!”
“And don’t you forget it, little sister,” Zelda growls playfully, before flipping them over to hover above Hilda. Hilda gives a squeak of surprise that turns into a giggle.
“Let me up, sister, you win,” she laughs.
“Oh, I know I win,” Zelda says as darkly as she can manage with a wide grin plastered across her face, “but I can’t let you go,” her grin turns devious, “until I get a proper surrender,” and she mercilessly attacks Hilda with an unrelenting volley of tickles.
The gleeful laughter and adorably hilarious snorts that are coming from Hilda delight Zelda to no end. Even when Hilda turns breathless and her laughs are interrupted with slightly pained pants, Zelda doesn’t relent.
“I yield,” Hilda huffs, “palms up, you win, patrue mi patruissime, you’re the supreme queen of the world and I’ll bake you cakes for a month, just please, show me mercy,”
Zelda finally lets up and rolls off of Hilda to collapse on the mattress next to her.
“There,” she pants, “that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
They are both breathing hard and Zelda turns her head to look at the golden mess of curls on the pillow next to her. Hilda turns her head to meet Zelda’s gaze.
Their sides are pressed mostly together and it’s a matter of inches for Zelda to reach out and tangle their fingers together.
“Do you really think the boys have forgotten about us?” Zelda asks.
“They’ll probably remember soon as they get hungry and I’m not there to cook for them,” Hilda responds. She no longer seems concerned about missing her date, or being stuck with Zelda.
Because Zelda is a masochist, she can’t stop herself from asking, “And your date with that Cowen boy?”
Hilda sighs, and her smile dims a bit. She looks back up at the ceiling, gives a half hearted shrug before she says, “Well, if he’s really worth it, he’ll understand, right?”
Zelda gives Hilda’s hand a little squeeze. “You’re worth ten of him, sister, easily.”
Hilda looks back at her and Zelda is mesmerized by the open vulnerability in Hilda’s eyes when she asks quietly, “Yeah, d’you reckon?”
Zelda feels like she’s being magnetically pulled toward Hilda.
“I know it,” Zelda whispers, and she is no longer thinking properly; she can’t focus on anything except how close Hilda’s face is to her own, how her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks when she blinks, how she deserves so much more than Zelda could ever give her. Worst of all, Zelda can’t seem to ignore how soft and plump and pink Hilda’s lips look. A little triangle of tongue darts out as Hilda licks them and Zelda cannot look away.
“Hild-” she is cut off by those kissable lips as they collide with hers. Zelda forgets how to breathe for a second, forgets how to move, even. All she can do is feel Hilda’s lips as they press against her own. The kiss is inexpert, but Zelda thinks it might be the best one she’s ever had.
Hilda pulls back and when Zelda sees the anxious look of confusion on her face, her brain finally kicks in again. She surges forward and a hand comes up to cup the back of Hilda’s head. Hilda sighs a small noise of contentment into Zelda’s mouth and Zelda swallows it eagerly. Hilda seems to be following Zelda’s lead now that Zelda is actively kissing back and her mouth is almost overwhelming in it’s sweetness. Zelda licks into Hilda’s mouth, wanting to taste and feel as much as she can. When Hilda sucks lightly on Zelda’s tongue, someone groans rather obscenely and it takes Zelda a second to realize it was her. Suddenly Zelda is ravenous, cannot get enough of Hilda, wants to surfeit herself on her sister until all her senses are overwhelmed.
One of Hilda’s hands is on Zelda’s waist and Hilda brings the other, still intertwined with Zelda’s up between their bodies. Hilda lets go of Zelda’s hand to brush tentatively over the rise of Zelda’s breast, and their kisses lose some finesse as Zelda’s brain short circuits again. She grasps at Hilda’s wrist to push her sister’s hand more firmly against herself, before her own hands move to touch Hilda in return. Zelda kisses Hilda with renewed fervor as she desperately palms Hilda’s breasts. She needs to get more of Hilda, to kiss every inch of her.
“Oh, Zelda,” Hilda groans against her lips.
For a moment, they pause, panting breathless puffs of air over each other’s faces, matching blown pupils in their matching blue eyes. Zelda’s lips are kiss swollen and the bats that have been fluttering in her stomach since their tickle fight swoop into her chest for a moment.
“Hilda,” she pants, “what do you need from me? What do you want me to do?”
Hilda brings a hand up to Zelda’s head and her nails scratch lightly at Zelda’s scalp as she smiles softly.
“Oh, Zelds, I just want you, I’ve always just wanted you,”
Satan, she’s making this difficult. Zelda could easily lose herself in her sister, but she doesn’t want to push Hilda into something she isn’t ready for or will regret later.
“If you want me to,” Zelda pauses to swallow and catch her breath for a second, “Hilda, if you want me to stop, you have to tell me,”
Hilda runs her fingers down the side of Zelda’s face to cup her cheek. She strokes a thumb over Zelda’s cheekbone as her older sister stutters out,
“I can’t— oh Satan— I don’t want you to regret this,” Her eyes flutter closed as she nuzzles slightly into the palm at her cheek, “Hilda, tell me to stop,” she kisses the mount of Hilda’s thumb, “you have to tell m—mmhh,”
Her words turn into a helpless moan as Hilda pulls her in enough to place a lingering, sweet kiss on Zelda’s parted lips. Once Hilda is sure Zelda has been kissed quiet again, she pulls back, dragging Zelda’s lower lip with her teeth for a moment as she does so.
“I love you, Zelda,” Zelda feels a blush bloom high on her cheeks at that, “but you are a complete idiot sometimes.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda pulls back sharply to look at Hilda, torn between kissing her some more and taking offense at being called an idiot. Luckily, Hilda seems to have no ambivalence about what she wants Zelda to do, and she pulls her in for another kiss. It’s open-mouthed, and messy, and perfect, and without realizing when it happened, Zelda finds herself laying halfway on top of Hilda. She takes advantage of this shift in position and runs her hand over Hilda’s side before slipping lower to squeeze at the place where hip becomes ass. Hilda’s breath hiccups and her hands come up to grip at Zelda’s back, pulling her closer. Their whole torsos are pressed together from belly to breasts and Zelda feels every stuttered inhale and every miniscule undulation. They kiss like that for a long time, hands wandering, claiming what they can through clothing. Hilda’s hands roam far too lightly over Zelda’s ass to the tops of her thighs where they carefully start to bunch up the skirt of Zelda’s dress. Zelda smiles against Hilda’s mouth and moves to the side of her sister’s neck. In between kisses and licks she tries to encourage Hilda. What comes out instead is, “You’re very good at this,” and Zelda inwardly cringes at the note of surprise in her voice. Hilda pauses and cranes her neck down to stop Zelda’s ministrations and to look at her. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?” She asks with a frown. Zelda pulls back, worried that she has ruined this before it even had a chance to really begin. “No, Hilda that’s not-” Zelda is still breathless as she tries to explain herself. For once, she is actively trying not to wound her sister, “I’m not very good at this,” “Hard to believe, as you’ve had so much practice,” Hilda mutters under her breath. Zelda supposes she deserves that and tries to go on, “I just mean, I like kissing you- well, no,” she closes her eyes, shakes her head, tries to focus so she might have a small chance at some coherency. “No?” Hilda asks, “You don’t like kissing me?” Zelda looks at Hilda, horrified, “Of course I like kissing you! I’m trying to say that-” “What, you expected me to be a bad kisser?” “No, Hilda, I've always thought-” “You've always thought about kissing me?” “I- wait,” Zelda feels dizzy with panic and lust as she tries to explain herself, “Hilda, that's not the point, it’s-” “That we should have been doing this years ago?” “No- well, yes, but-” “That I’ve ruined kissing other people for you?” Zelda is flustered and frustrated with her own inarticulateness. Then she catches the mischievous twinkle in Hilda’s eye and suddenly strangling Hilda sounds a lot more fun than kissing if this is how her sister is going to act. Her breathing is still off, though, and their bodies are still pressed together and as a result, Zelda’s voice comes out in a mortifying whine when she says, “You’re making fun of me.” Hilda smiles innocently up at her sister as she says, falsely curious, “Am I?” “Fine,” Zelda says petulantly as she starts to pull away, “that’s the last time you can ever expect- oof!” Without warning, Hilda flips them over so that she hovers above her older sister, fitting a thigh efficiently between Zelda’s. When did Hilda get so good at this? Zelda feels surrounded by Hilda as she lays beneath her. It’s almost overwhelming and it’s definitely confusing. She’s wanted Hilda for so long, yearned and pined for her from the other side of the world and from the next bed over, and now that her fantasy is coming true, she doesn’t quite know how to handle it. She is so turned on, she can barely think, she’s embarrassed at being caught off guard by Hilda’s teasing, and she feels dangerously out of control. As a result of this swirling tornado of emotions inside her, Zelda falls back on comfortable, familiar annoyance. Zelda opens her mouth to snap at her sister to get off of her, but she ends up unable to form any words when Hilda presses herself against Zelda’s thigh. Even through the fabric of their skirts, Zelda can feel the heat of Hilda’s center. “Come on, Zelds,” Hilda coaxes, “don’t you want to see if I’m any good at the things that come after kissing?” Hilda is looking at her from beneath long lashes and Zelda can find nothing to say to this new, sexually confident version of her sister. She settles for trying to glare at Hilda, but she can feel herself blushing, and she suspects she undermines herself when she squirms involuntarily as a new gush of moisture floods her panties. Hilda smirks, a facial expression she surely learned from Zelda, and says, “I thought you might,” before lowering her mouth to Zelda’s neck. Hilda kisses up along Zelda’s jaw and sucks on an earlobe before flicking it with the tip of her tongue. She moves a bit lower, nosing copper curls out of her way to kiss just behind Zelda’s ear and Zelda gasps. Zelda can feel her sister smile against her skin and Hilda lingers on that spot, sucking and licking in equal measure until Zelda pants her name and tangles her fingers in Hilda’s hair to pull her up. Hilda opens her eyes and looks directly into Zelda’s. There is a question behind the stormy blue, something cautious and curious and Zelda feels more than hears Hilda say,
Do you want to keep going?
The question is clear and bright in Zelda’s mind, but underneath it, or maybe surrounding it, there is a quiet, steady stream of I love you ’s that clings to each word. Zelda thinks of Hilda at 17, radiant in a white summer dress as she smiles at Zelda and holds out a bouquet of early morning wildflowers. She pictures Hilda on the day she graduated the academy, how her face had lit up from across the room at the sight of Zelda, newly returned from Mexico City for the occasion. She remembers Hilda visiting her in Marseille, the two of them spending warm, hazy afternoons on the beach. She thinks of the way Hilda often quietly makes them both tea and settles in on the sofa next to Zelda to calmly knit or read on nights when Zelda has trouble sleeping. She thinks of the fact that Hilda is the only person who has seen her without makeup on in over sixty-five years. She nods.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Zelda has never seen this expression on Hilda’s face before. Hilda is smiling, but Zelda can’t quite categorize it. It’s similar to the little conspiratorial grins they share on days they are best friends as well as sisters, but there’s something different to it. Something almost predatory, like the way Hilda looks right before her annual airing out and scrubbing of the morgue freezers. She looks eager and… sultry— a word Zelda never thought could be in the same sentence as her sister‘s name. Hilda has always been associated with words like adorable, beautiful, even sexy, on occasion, but always with a tinge of innocence about it. The way Hilda is looking at her right now is downright indecent. If Zelda didn’t know better, she would never think that the seductress above her could possibly be a virgin. That look, directed as it is toward Zelda, sends a gush of moisture between her legs and she squirms a bit, trying to get Hilda to properly press against her. Hilda, the bloody tease, angles her body away from Zelda’s attempts at contact. “Ah, ah, ah, sister,” Hilda admonishes, “I think, before we do anything else, we ought to get you out of these clothes,” “Right, yes,” Zelda says, her voice pitched low and rough with need. Hilda gives a satisfied little smirk and sits back on her heels to give Zelda some space. Zelda starts to wriggle her dress over her hips, which is slightly difficult as Hilda is still hovering over one of her thighs, tantalizingly just out of reach. She struggles her way out of the beaded silk and when Zelda gets slightly stuck with it over her head, Hilda’s gentle hands move in to help her get it the rest of the way off. Zelda’s face is red and her chest is painted with a blotchy flush when she finally rids herself of the material and flings the dress away somewhere. Zelda is too turned on to even be self conscious, and she sits up to eagerly undo the shirt buttons at Hilda’s chest. Hilda adjusts herself to properly straddle Zelda’s lap, her hands landing on Zelda’s shoulders, stroking over the bare skin there, slipping beneath the strap of the chemise under Zelda’s corset, sliding up to grasp at the nape of her neck. And then Hilda’s shirt is finally unbuttoned and hanging open to reveal Hilda’s torso— and breasts, specifically— to Zelda. For a moment, Zelda is helpless to do anything but stare. They are covered only by an almost sheer chemise through which Zelda can see the slightly darker circles of Hilda’s nipples. Zelda has never been happier about Hilda’s disregard for any less-than-comfortable current fashions. Hilda gives her shoulders an encouraging squeeze and that is all Zelda needs to spur her into action. She wraps her arms around her sister and buries her face in Hilda’s cleavage, just brushing her open lips over warm skin and nuzzling her nose against the pillowy softness. She breaths Hilda in, the heady scent of sweat and skin and Hilda’s soap is intoxicating. She starts to press hot, open mouthed kisses over every inch of exposed skin before sliding her hands to Hilda’s front to cup her sister’s breasts in both hands. She starts squeezing and kneading them, marveling at how different they are from her own. When they were younger, Zelda had thought her fascination with Hilda’s bust was a result of envy— it took her a few years to realize it was actually a result of desire. They are the kind of breasts one might see in a lewd print from Holywell Street, round and heavy and mouthwateringly pliant. Zelda smushes them together, just for the fun of it, and Hilda’s ensuing giggle ends in an adorable snort. Zelda tears her eyes away from Hilda’s chest and finds herself sheepishly smiling up at her sister. She continues to massage and she can see Hilda’s nipples poking at the fabric of her undershirt. She brushes her thumb over one, eliciting an encouraging ‘mmm’ sound from Hilda, before she bows her head and envelops it in her mouth through the satiny material. At that, Hilda lets out a proper moan and Zelda gently holds the nipple between her teeth as she smiles and glances up to see Hilda’s face. Hilda’s eyes are closed, she’s biting her lower lip, and her head is lolling to one side and slightly back. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is wild and Zelda sends a silent prayer of thanks to every higher demon in hell as she swirls her tongue over the pebbled flesh between her teeth. She has never seen anyone so beautiful. Zelda slowly slides one hand down over Hilda’s ribcage, savoring every inch of skin she has caught brief glimpses of, but has never been allowed to touch. Hilda twitches as Zelda’s hand brushes over the softness of her stomach on its way down to her thigh. She pushes up fistfuls of Hilda’s skirt until she can slip her hand under it to the skin beneath. Hilda has forgone stockings today, along with her corset, and Zelda can feel the wet spot of her arousal grow when her hand meets bare flesh. She starts to move her hand up Hilda’s leg, toward the humid heat under her skirt. She squeezes Hilda’s breast with her other hand, sucks hard at the nipple in her mouth and Hilda’s hips jerk forward at the combined sensations. Then Hilda’s hand lands over Zelda’s through the material of her skirt, stopping her movement and clutching hard. Zelda growls in the back of her throat. Can’t Hilda, for once, refrain from aggravating her? Not even when they're fucking? Mephistopheles, she never realized her little sister was such a heavenly tease. Zelda looks up again, ready to flirt and coax and even pout, but something is off. Everything about Hilda is screaming for Zelda to fuck her, on the surface, at least. But her hand is firm over Zelda’s and her eyes are squeezed shut in a way that no longer looks like ecstasy, but rather something closer to pain. Zelda parts with Hilda’s heaving chest reluctantly, and she stills her hand on Hilda’s thigh. Her first instinct is to worry that she’s somehow ruined everything again, but the part of her brain that is focused on every one of Hilda’s sighs and whimpers, and is cataloguing what part of Hilda’s body they correspond to, tells Zelda this isn’t about her. She knows what Hilda in most types of physical pain looks like— she’s certainly killed her enough that she should— and this isn’t that. Is Hilda... nervous? Zelda knows Hilda hasn’t had sex before. She tries to think back— had she been nervous her first time? She can’t recall. She had mostly been excited, even giddy. That is decidedly not how Hilda looks now. “Hilda?” Hilda keeps her eyes squeezed shut, but nods and gives Zelda a small, “Mmhm?” to show she’s listening, is part of whatever conversation they are having, or are about to have. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Hilda shakes her head, “No, Zelds, you didn’t hurt me,” Zelda feels supremely out of her element again. Hilda sounds almost like she’s going to go back to crying, but she still hasn’t opened her eyes, so Zelda can’t be sure. Zelda’s breathing is still coming rather hard, and she can see Hilda’s pulse jumping at her neck. “Do…” Zelda doesn’t want to finish the question, doesn’t want the possibility to be put out into the universe, not now that they’ve come so far. She takes a shaky breath and continues, “Do you want me to stop?” Hilda shakes her head again, breathes out a quiet, “No.” Relief washes through Zelda as her heart beats properly once more. She tries to soothe Hilda as much as she can despite Hilda’s grip by brushing her thumb over the inside of Hilda’s thigh, bringing her free hand up to tuck some hair behind the curve of Hilda’s perfect ear. Hilda bites at her lip again. “Hilda, look at me,” Hilda nods, her brows drawn together, but doesn’t open her eyes. “Please, sister,” Zelda tries to soften her voice as much as she can, stroking her thumb over Hilda’s cheek, wanting to comfort rather than command. “What’s the matter, sweeting? Tell me, please.” Hilda swallows. She keeps her eyes closed, but clears her throat a tiny bit. Zelda holds her breath. The roof could blow off the house right at this moment and Zelda would probably not be able to look away from Hilda. “Zelds,” Zelda nods even though Hilda can’t see, as earnest as she’s ever been about anything, “I don't want to stop, but…” Zelda suddenly feels ill, predatory in the worst possible way. “Just tell me,” Zelda says in a hard voice, already tensing, ready for the inevitable rejection. Hilda’s voice is pitched a few notes higher with nerves as she says, “It’s just I don't think I like, er… that.” Zelda stills the limited movement of her hands. There is a beat and then Hilda opens her eyes to assess Zelda, clearly thinking that there’s been some sort of damage done. Zelda, however, is simply confused. She sees Hilda read this on her face and take another breath to try for an explanation, since Zelda is clearly not understanding her. “Could we maybe, erm, maybe just focus on you?” The horrible sickening feeling is back. Zelda doesn’t want Hilda to feel some sort of obligation, or like she has to please her. Satan, if Hilda had just told her to stop when all they had done was kiss… She removes her hands from Hilda and places them flat on the mattress behind her as she leans away, burning with humiliation. If Hilda doesn’t want this, then Zelda doesn’t either— can Hilda not see that? “So you don’t want me to touch you, then.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounds hollow. If only Zelda could muster up some rage, some anger, but she has nothing in her but a disappointing, sad sort of resignment, mixed with the shameful and persistent throb of unfulfilled lust. “No! I do,” Hilda insists, grabbing at Zelda’s wrists and shoving her hands back on her body haphazardly, “just not, er, there ,” she finishes lamely. Zelda’s brows draw together in uncertainty. It must look like anger of some sort to Hilda, because she quickly continues, “You can touch me anywhere else you like, anywhere! Just not my, er, well—” she cuts herself off, switching train of thought, “And I want to touch you, oh Zelds, I really really want to touch you.” Oh. Alright. So it is nerves, then. It must be. Hilda is afraid of officially losing her virginity. She’s been stuck with it for so long that she’s grown attached, or some sort of equally insipid reasoning; Zelda has never claimed to know what goes on in Hilda’s head. She can’t fathom another explanation for not wanting to be properly fucked after this much build up. Alright, Zelda can work with this. After all, she’s the big sister, of course she should come first.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Alright,” Zelda says slowly, moving her hands to rest lightly on the somewhat more neutral territory of Hilda’s hips, “so, you want to be the one doing most of the touching, is that it?” Zelda is a bit skeptical of whether Hilda will even know what to do, but she refrains from voicing any of her thoughts regarding Hilda’s virginal knowledge of sex, as it seems that might be somewhat of a sore spot. She silently congratulates herself on her exceptional emotional awareness— and Hilda thinks she’s insensitive, ha!— and decides to wait and see what Hilda comes up with. Besides, the thought of Hilda in control sends pleasant tingles throughout Zelda’s body. Hilda breathes out, visibly relieved, nodding. “Yeah, that’s right, I want to touch you,” Hilda’s expression shifts, and she suddenly sounds very sure of herself again as she continues coyly, “I want to do quite a bit more than just touch you, really,” Zelda has no idea what to say to that, which is fine, because her mouth has gone dry. Hilda kisses her sweetly on the mouth and moves her hands to Zelda’s back to loosen the strings of her corset. Zelda’s hands on Hilda’s hips flex, but she is cautious of moving them to somewhere Hilda doesn’t want now. Hilda pulls back from the kiss, and puts one hand firmly on Zelda’s sternum to push her back down to the mattress. She takes a moment to look over Zelda’s body beneath her and Zelda feels herself clench around nothing at all at the feeling of being splayed out beneath Hilda— for Hilda— completely at her mercy. “You always did like pretty things,” Hilda says as she traces the upper edge of Zelda’s corset with one fingernail, carefully avoiding contact with any actual skin, “and you do look exquisite in this fine lingerie,” she scrapes her nail down one line of the garment’s stiff boning, “but I never cared for fancy wrappings when the present beneath it is so much better,” Hilda looks straight into her eyes, then, and says, “Take this off.” The note of authority in the command is surprisingly delicious, and Zelda hurries to comply. As Zelda undoes the complicated fastenings down her front, Hilda takes her shirt the rest of the way off, and uses it to dab at her face and chest, both of which are flushed and sweaty. Zelda smirks, “If you can’t stand the heat, sister—” “You don’t want to finish that thought, Zelds,” Hilda interrupts her, “you might give me ideas you won’t like. Besides, the kitchen is my domain in this house.” “Well, we’re in the bedroom now, which is my domain,” Zelda responds as she shimmies her knickers down her legs and kicks them off, “you might need to get used to a different kind of heat.” She waggles her eyebrows salaciously, making Hilda laugh, before pulling her chemise over her head. And then Zelda is lying naked before Hilda, but for her stockings. Her nipples are furled to tight peaks and the valley of her navel rises and falls as she breathes a bit harder than usual. Hilda is staring at her, mouth slightly ajar, and after a minute Hilda’s silent staring starts to make Zelda uncomfortable. She sits up so that she’s nearly eye to eye with Hilda, trying to gage Hilda’s expression and what it might mean. Did Hilda change her mind about this after all? Did Zelda push her too hard? Move too fast? Hilda is still looking down at Zelda’s breasts between them and Zelda is beginning to feel a bit insecure. Sure, Hilda’s are bigger than her own, but Zelda hasn’t exactly heard any complaints in the past. She’s also starting to feel embarrassed about how quickly she had gotten naked when Hilda has only lost her shirt. “Zelds, you’re beautiful,” Hilda whispers with something close to reverence in her voice. Zelda has never meant anything more when she gently places a hand on Hilda’s cheek and says, “So are you, Hilda,” Hilda meets her eyes then. “Why can’t you always be this sweet with me, Zelds?” Zelda looks away when she answers, “I don’t think I’m very good at it. Not like you are. I... I’m just—” Zelda casts around for the right words, comes up short. She just doesn’t know how to love the way Hilda does; she never has. She finally looks at Hilda’s face again and shrugs her bare shoulders. Even if Zelda had the right words, she knows that voicing them would surely make her cry. Hilda must see her distress, because she pops a tiny kiss on Zelda’s nose and gives her a small smile before she pushes Zelda back onto the bed. She leans in close and says, “Well, let me show you how,” and then she’s kissing Zelda softly. Hilda trails her hand between the valley of Zelda’s breasts, before spreading it over Zelda’s rib cage posessively. She bows her head to languidly kiss one straining nipple and a wanton moan escapes Zelda. Hilda can’t stop the devious smile that spreads across her face as she sinks lower down Zelda’s body. Zelda’s stomach muscles twitch and jump as Hilda’s hair drags over the sensitive skin. Hilda pauses to kiss just above Zelda’s bellybutton as her arms move lower to spread Zelda’s thighs. When Hilda reaches the auburn hair at the apex of her sister’s legs, she nuzzles her nose into the sticky curls and inhales deeply. “Dear Satan,” Hilda breathes, “you smell marvelous,” Zelda whines her sister’s name and tries to buck her hips to make Hilda get a move on. Hilda only smirks and a second later two of Hilda’s fingers firmly stroke up and then down her slit, making Zelda gasp. “My, but you’re very wet, sister,” Zelda would be annoyed at how smug Hilda sounds, but it feels like Hilda has been teasing her for hours. “Are you?” Zelda doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but she’s made such a fool of herself already that she finds she doesn’t have it in her to care anymore. All that she cares about is Hilda, and Hilda’s hands and lips and tongue, all of which are so close to where Zelda needs them to be. Hilda doesn’t answer her with words. Instead, she raises one eyebrow, even as she blushes hard and withdraws her hand. Zelda props herself up on her elbows to look incredulously down at Hilda, which is when she sees Hilda’s hand disappear beneath her rucked up skirt. When it emerges again, her middle and index fingers are glistening and wet. Hilda plants her other hand on the mattress as she kneels over Zelda once more and says, “‘Course I am, love,” and she reaches out to brush her wet fingertips over Zelda’s bottom lip. Zelda’s lips part automatically and her tongue sneaks out to lick the tips of Hilda’s fingers. Hilda sucks in a breath and then slowly, deliberately, she pushes her fingers all the way into Zelda’s mouth, sliding over her tongue until her knuckles are at Zelda’s lips. Hilda tastes almost like she does, only a little sweeter and smoother, and underneath Hilda, Zelda can detect the slightly more crisp taste of herself. Hilda looks fascinated at the sight of Zelda’s lips wrapped around her fingers. Zelda sucks on them, and a harsh breath leaves Hilda’s lungs. She slowly starts to pull her fingers out, and Zelda swirls her tongue around them as they leave her mouth. Hilda’s eyelids flutter at that, but she keeps them open as she very carefully pushes her fingers back in. Zelda cannot look away from how Hilda is staring at her fingers disappearing between Zelda’s lips. With each thrust of her hand, with each flick of Zelda’s tongue, Hilda gets closer and closer to outright panting. So many new facets of her younger sister have been revealed to Zelda today, but this assertive, enthralling side just might be Zelda’s favorite. Hilda looks almost like she could get off just mouthfucking Zelda with her fingers. Zelda is dripping. She lets herself be messy with Hilda’s fingers, coating them with her saliva, bobbing her head to get them deeper, swirling and stroking with her tongue, tilting and adjusting her head to get different angles. She continues to look into Hilda’s eyes the whole time and Hilda doesn’t look away. She barely blinks, and her eyes are as dark as Zelda’s ever seen them. The only sounds in the room are the obscene, wet noises of Zelda’s sucking, and Hilda’s loud, harsh breathing. When Hilda pulls her fingers out completely, her knuckles are painted with smudges of Zelda’s lipstick and a single viscous thread of spit connects the digits to Zelda’s parted lips for one long second before Hilda breaks it by moving her hand down to Zelda’s entrance. Her legs are spread wide and Hilda runs her fingers over Zelda’s already wet inner lips far too gently; the combined slickness diminishes any friction and serves only to tease her. Just as Zelda is about to whine at her again, Hilda enters her in one smooth motion that is over far too quickly to properly savor. She pauses for a moment, fingers buried to the knuckles, simply holding them still inside the pulsing wet heat until Zelda sits up a bit to glare breathlessly down at her sister. “Oh, sorry,” Hilda says rather too nonchalantly for Zelda’s taste, but she forget any complaints she might have as Hilda’s fingers start to move. She gasps, making a mental note to be annoyed later about how Hilda keeps distracting her from her annoyance. Hilda doesn’t immediately start pumping in and out the way she had with Zelda’s mouth. Rather, she explores, pressing and sliding gently with the pads of her fingers and rotating them around. Zelda fists the bedspread, groaning in frustration, and pushes her hips forward to try to get Hilda to focus and properly fuck her. Then suddenly Hilda’s probing fingers press deliciously at that one spot and Zelda’s groan turns into a mewl of surprise and pleasure as her eyes nearly roll back into her head. She hears Hilda let out a quiet “Aha,” and then the fingers inside Zelda are massaging deliberately and Zelda’s hips start moving of their own volition as her eyes close. She is not prepared, then, for when Hilda’s tongue joins her fingers to lick up from her opening to her clit. Zelda squeaks in surprise, one leg kicking out involuntarily, and this time it is Hilda who moans and closes her eyes. The vibrating sound of Hilda’s pleasure on top of all the other sensations puts Zelda on the verge of coming far too quickly. “Oh, Hilda— wait—” She grabs desperately at Hilda’s hair. Hilda emphatically does not wait— instead, she uses the tip of her tongue to lap at Zelda’s clit in time with her massaging fingers and Zelda suddenly crests, gushing all over Hilda’s hand and into her mouth with an incoherent cry. Hilda doesn’t stop licking her, as Zelda comes down, though she switches to leisurely broad strokes, and brings her fingers almost out of Zelda to shallowly circle and caress her spasming entrance, drawing out sweet aftershocks. She can feel Hilda smiling against her and she’s too sated to do anything but catch her breath as she stares up at the ceiling. Hilda removes her mouth to place a sticky, wet kiss to the inside of Zelda’s thigh, before sighing happily and resting her cheek on Zelda’s pubic bone. Zelda, for her part, is absolutely stunned that one: she had come so ridiculously quickly, two: Hilda had gotten her to squirt their first time together, and three: her orgasm had been at the hands (and mouth) of her now-less-than-innocent, still-adorably-sweet, questionably-virginal younger sister. It’s Hilda’s self-satisfied giggle that brings her back to earth. “Hilda?” A rather cheeky, “Mmhm?” from somewhere around her abdomen is Hilda’s response. Zelda licks her dry lips and swallows, “Where on earth did you learn to do that?” Hilda’s smirk widens into a dazzling grin as she looks up at Zelda, “That good, yeah?” “Oh, no,” Zelda growls before grabbing at Hilda and pulling her up to within kissing distance, “tell me true, sister mine: have you done that before?” Zelda’s voice is low and deadly, and she’s not sure what she’ll do if she doesn’t like Hilda’s answer. Hilda is still smiling when she leans in close and says softly, “Only in my dreams, love,” before kissing Zelda once more.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They kiss for an indeterminate amount of time, Zelda relishing the taste of herself on her sister’s lips and Hilda gently scratching and stroking nonsensical patterns over the pale softness of Zelda’s breast. Eventually they roll over to lay side by side, facing each other the way they had been earlier, before they knew the taste of each other.
They’re both smiling, somehow giddy and shy at the same time, neither of them keen to break the contented quiet, when they hear it.
Footfalls on the stairs: heavy and clunking in a way Edward has never grown out of.
“Shit,” Hilda says as Zelda scrambles off the bed frantically collecting her clothing and muttering a continuous string of
fuck, fuck, fuck.
Hilda hops off the bed, sees Zelda’s dress and tosses it to her. Zelda fumbles the catch since she has her corset in one hand and a shoe in the other. She shoots Hilda a quick look of annoyance, but there’s no time to muster up a proper glare. She’s managed to get her chemise on, but she has no time to do up her lingerie and even if she did, she can’t find her panties. She ends up simply throwing on her dress before rolling up her corset and shoving it under the bed.
Hilda grabs her shirt off the floor and quickly buttons it up before casting a quick cleaning spell over the bed to clear the scent of sex from the room and to erase the rather large stain Zelda had made.
They hear Edward yelling for them somewhere down the hall.
The sisters look at each other in mutual silent panic for a second before raising their hands together to cast a glamour over the other, disguising the rumpled, make-up smeared, just-fucked state of themselves.
“Hilda? Zee?” They can hear their brother opening and closing doors as he checks in each room getting closer to the one they’re in every moment.
At the last second, Hilda spots Zelda’s satiny underwear where they’ve been kicked down between the foot of the mattress and the baseboard of the bed. She grabs them just as the door bursts open and quickly hides them behind her back, trying to look nonchalant.
“Ah, there you both are,” Edward says as he pokes his head in, “Er... Sorry about that. I meant to seal the house so the demon I was studying couldn’t escape, but I must have fumbled the words a bit when it threw me into the wall, and, well, I ended up sealing every
room
in the house instead,” he smiles sheepishly at his two sisters.
Zelda knows her face is far too flushed, but she does her best to look casually bored.
Hilda holds the crumpled, still damp knickers behind her back and tries for a sympathetically neutral, “Oh?”
“I guess dealing with all of that took longer than I thought, even with Mort helping me. He said he’d get a start on supper— it’s gotten pretty late, you lot must be hungry,”
He looks at his sisters, furrowing his brow in concern, when he barely gets a response.
“Zee? Are you alright?”
“Perfectly fine, Edward,” she says stiffly.
“Sorry about all this, you two must have been at each other’s throats, stuck in here.”
Hilda can’t help the smirk on her face when she says, “Something like that, Eddie,”
Zelda glares daggers at Hilda.
Edward looks between the two of them quizzically for a moment.
“Are you sure you’re both alright, sisters? With you two in one room together for that long, I’d have expected at least a little death and bloodshed,”
Hilda is far too proud of herself when she says, “You’re not far off the mark, Eddie, but there was no bloodshed,”
Zelda rolls her eyes and wishes she were anywhere else.
“Well,” Edward says uncertainly, aware that he’s not in on the joke, “that’s good, I guess.”
As the three of them make their way out of the room, Hilda carefully keeping Edward ahead of her, she adds, “There
was
a little death involved though,”
Zelda feels her face burning, and her earlier plan of throttling Hilda suddenly sounds like a good idea again.
Hilda throws Zelda a cheeky wink, “Isn’t that right, Zelds?”
Stabbing isn’t off the table either.