Closet

Reidsville hasn't changed much. There's still the same crappy two-street downtown she remembers, still the same mix of faltering little mom-and-pop stores and fast-food joints and big chain supermarkets with half-full parking lots, still the same empty sidewalks and creeping sense of something slowly being hollowed out by decay. When Mae steps off the Greyhound, there's not another soul to be seen on the street, just the occasional car passing by. She hauls herself and her duffel bag under the awning of a closed bakery and watches the clouded sky skeptically while she waits to see if someone will come pick her up. She texted her Mom half an hour ago, letting her know roughly when she'd be getting in, but her Mom's never been the most reliable person out there. After a few minutes' wait, she digs her phone out, stares at the display for a second, then pulls up her older sister's number. Callie picks up after a couple of rings.

"Mason?"

She winces. Right. She knew going home for Thanksgiving was going to involve a lot of this, so she'd better start getting used to it. At least it'll only be for a few days.

"Hey," she says. "Uh. Can you come pick me up? I'm downtown, across from the Dollar Tree."

"Sure," Callie says. "I'll be there in ten."

"Thanks," Mae says, and hangs up. She sits down on her duffel bag and watches while a crow tries to open a discarded hamburger container, trying not to think about anything.

Before long, she sees Callie's mud-stained pickup coming down the road. She stands and waves to her sister halfheartedly. Callie pulls over in front of her, parks, and hops out of her truck.

"Hey, squirt," she says, coming onto the sidewalk to pull Mae into a hug. Callie's quite a bit taller than she is - bigger in every dimension, really - so Callie doesn't so much hug her as envelop her completely. Mae doesn't hug her back. Callie's always been kinda like this, all warmth and touch, the way their Mom used to be back when they were younger, and Mae's never really known how to react to it. Something's wrong in her head, probably. Callie gives her a gentle squeeze, then lets go of her and grabs the straps of Mae's duffel, hefting it one-handed.

"Jeez," she says. Callie curls her arm, lifting the bag through the open window of her truck. Mae does not look at the way the muscles shift under Callie's tanned skin, does not look at the lean hard curve of her upper back, and most certainly does not look at the golden-blonde hair running down her older sister's spine in a long tight braid.

"You bring the whole library back, or what?"

Mae gives her a small smile. "I got a couple of books with me, yeah."

Callie puts an arm around her shoulder, squeezes her. "Gotta start hitting the gym some if you're gonna haul that kind of weight around, nerd. Surprised you can even lift this thing."

"Ha, maybe," Mae says. Callie's teased her about it basically since Mae started puberty. She's always been short and slim, especially for a boy, and for whatever reason she's never really been able to keep any muscle on. On top of that, she's always tended to bookishness - Callie was always the star athlete of the family - so the teasing, both from her sister and everyone else, was more or less inevitable. At least when Callie does it, Mae can tell she's joking, which is more than can be said for most people she grew up around.

"Plus," Callie adds, lowering her voice slightly as though she's sharing a secret. "I hear the girls like it."

Mae blushes. "Wouldn't know," she mumbles.

"Aw, well," Callie says. She pulls the passenger door open for Mae, then hops back in on the driver side. "You'll meet your girl some day." There's a quiet pause as Callie starts the truck, then she adds, in a more serious tone, "or, uh, boy. If that's your thing."

Mae feels an odd mix of tenderness and irritation. One of the things about being small, when you're a teenage boy, is that everyone (or at least everyone in Reidsville, it seems) assumes you're probably gay. At this point it's so played-out that it barely even stings, and even the guys she went to high school with barely bothered calling her a queer by the end of senior year. On the other hand, she can tell Callie really means it - if Mae actually was a gay boy, Callie probably would be fine with it, which is nice. It's a shame Mae's something a lot worse than that.

She clenches her fists in her lap as Callie pulls back out onto the road and loops the truck around back up towards home. She just has to make it through a few days, she reminds herself, and then she can head back to Atlanta and back to her real life. Just a few days, now 'til Sunday.

Callie turns the radio on low and chats while she drives, the story of the past few months unspooling out of her. Mae does her best to nod and say mhm and so on at all the right places, looking out the window instead of at her older sister. After a few minutes they turn off the paved road and the ride gets rougher. Callie kills the radio, stops partway through describing how her team got eliminated from the state championships in the semifinals, and abruptly says:

"You good?"

Mae turns her head, glances over at Callie. Callie glances back at her, mouth set in a line.

"Yeah," Mae says, eventually. "Just... you know."

Callie takes one hand off the wheel, reaches over, rubs Mae's shoulder. Her skin's warm through the thin cotton t-shirt.

"Worried about seeing Mom & Dad?"

"Mostly Dad," Mae says.

"I get it," Callie replies. That's nice of her to say, but Callie doesn't actually get it - can't get it, really. Callie's always been exactly what Dad wanted, pretty much her whole life; she wasn't ever the best student but she was well-liked and athletic and spent a lot of time outdoors, and while Callie wasn't much more of a church-goer than Mae was at least she never got kicked out of Sunday school, so, yeah, Callie really doesn't get it. Mae's seen Callie and Dad fight plenty often, but it's always a two-way kind of thing, where Dad yells and Callie yells back and once they've both yelled enough it seems like things are alright again. Mae's never been good at the yelling back part; she tends to just curl up and take it, and that just seems to make Dad angrier. Sometimes it seems like he wants her to yell back, like if she yells back it'll prove she's actually the man Dad wants her to be.

It's then that Mae realizes her clenched fists in her lap are shaking.

She shoves them into the pockets of her ratty jeans, but not quick enough, because Callie notices too. She pulls the truck over to the side of the dirt road.

"Mason," she says. Mae manages not to wince. "You're really worried?"

Mae gives a tiny, jerky nod. Worried isn't really the half of it. Being worried around her Dad would be a pleasant change, really. Scared is more likely.

Callie reaches her hand out, palm up. After a few seconds, Mae feels awkward enough that she pulls a hand out of a pocket and lays it in her sister's. Callie squeezes.

"Tell you what," Callie says. "If he's super shitty, I'll take you back to town whenever you want. We can get you an early bus ticket back or something, no problem."

"Thanks," Mae mumbles. She means it. It's nice of Callie to offer, although Mae is already fully aware that her Dad definitely will be super shitty. So long as she can act normal for a few days, hopefully he'll just be the normal kind of unpleasant, and then she can get out of here.

Callie gives her hand another squeeze then gets back onto the road. The dirt road fades into another, worse dirt road, and finally into their driveway, which is really just a third dirt road even crappier than the first two. Callie pulls smoothly around the loop in front of their house, then hops out the drivers' side. Mae can see her Dad's newer pickup parked by the side of the house with Mom's elderly minivan right beside it, so it seems like Mom forgot she was supposed to pick her kid up after all. Well, whatever.

Callie hauls Mae's duffel bag out of the truck, then carries it inside without even giving her a chance to object. Mae shoulders her backpack and follows her older sister inside the sprawling old farmhouse they both grew up in.

Dad's exactly where Mae would've expected - in his recliner, beer sitting on the rickety little table right by his side, watching the Falcons game. He looks up when Callie and Mae enter, grunts something like a hello, then goes back to watching the TV.

Callie carries Mae's bag to her childhood room, which looks just how Mae left it a few months ago when she went away to Georgia Tech. There's even a thin layer of dust on top of her old desk, which she brushes away with a hand before she sets her backpack down. Callie drops the duffel on Mae's bed, then walks over to one of the windows and pulls the curtains open.

"Man," she says, looking out into the late afternoon sun. "I gotta say, Savannah isn't this pretty."

Mae focuses on unpacking her laptop so she won't have to see the way the blood-orange sun is lighting the stray strands escaping from Callie's braid, wrapping her in a halo. It's an objective fact that Callie is gorgeous; it took Mae a while to untangle it in her own head, to realize that she's a girl even though she'll never look the way Callie does. She can just be a shy awkward little dork, and be a girl, and that's how she's going to be. It beats being a boy, anyway.

Callie turns away from the window, and instead of going back to her own room, or going to watch the game with Dad, or just about anything else, she sits down on Mae's bed. Mae can feel her sister's eyes on her; she blushes, and just keeps unpacking, not sure what else to do. Her room's always been her space, her sanctuary in a way, and it feels weird having Callie just sitting here watching her.

"You look a little different," Callie says, eventually.

Mae's heart just about stops. She started hormones about three months ago, but she's managed to convince herself that the changes aren't visible yet, not even to people who know her pretty well. She's wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans, just to help make sure, but she really doesn't think anyone would be able to tell even without that. All she has is a little extra softness in a couple places, skin that she can touch without wanting to throw up, and somehow even less muscle than she used to have.

"What - uh, what do you mean?", she manages.

Callie gives her a thoughtful look. "Dunno," she says. "Growing your hair out?"

"Oh," Mae says, painfully relieved. "Yeah. Haven't cut it."

"Heh," Callie says, taking her braid in one hand and toying with it. "Looks good on you."

Mae blushes. "Thanks."

"When you're done unpacking," Callie says, "you wanna go out back for a bit?"

"Yeah, sure."

---

On the way outside, they pass through the living room. The game's evidently over, or maybe Dad gave up on it, and now he's watching the news instead.

"Hey kids," he says, looking over at them. Behind him, the newscaster's speaking with a staccato rhythm, tone flat and harsh. As Mae stoops down to put her boots on, Callie sitting on the floor next to her, her Dad calls over to them.

"You got any of these, uh, transgenders on your team, Cal?"

Mae freezes. Callie glances over at her, then, as she laces a boot, says "Nah, Dad."

Her Dad grunts. "That's good. I was hearing about all this sports shit, with men joining the girls teams now and so on. Can't believe what this country's coming to, sometimes. Mason, you met any of 'em up in Atlanta? They're all up in the cities, they say."

Mae's mouth won't seem to work. "Uh," she stammers. "Don't - don't think so, Dad."

Her Dad makes a noise. Mae can't tell whether it's approval, or disgust, or just general orneriness. He turns his attention back to the TV. Mae finishes lacing her boots with shaking hands, then turns and flees outside.

Callie catches up to her in the south pasture, sitting by the edge of that one marshy area where one of the McKaskill cows got stuck so bad a few years back they had to just shoot it on the spot. Mae still thinks about that sometimes. Callie jogs up behind her, sits down on a rock a couple of feet away.

"Well, he hasn't changed," Callie says.

"No he hasn't," Mae agrees, staring westward into the sun. Just a few more days, she tells herself. For whatever reason, she finds herself thinking back to the last year of high school, when she used to count the days, hours even, until she'd be able to get out of Reidsville. It got her through some of the worst times.

"Hey, Mason, earlier when I said -"

Mae clenches her fists, nails biting into her own skin through one of the rips in her jeans. This is insanely stupid, she shouldn't do this, but it's just a little too much to take. "Hey, Callie?"

Callie stops abruptly. "Yeah?"

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"Stop calling you what?"

"Stop calling me... uh. That."

Callie gives her a blank look. "What do you want me to call you instead?"

"Mae," she says, quietly.

"Sure," Callie says, slowly. "Uh. Well. Mae, earlier when I said I'd give you a ride back to town and get you a bus ticket out if you want, I meant it. I will."

It's the first time Mae's ever heard her own name out of someone else's mouth. She's said it to herself in the mirror, when her roommate's out, enough to know she likes the sound of it, but hearing Callie say it is... something else.

"'preciate it," Mae says. "I'll stick it out, though."

"Alright," Callie says, and lapses into quiet. It's starting to get dark enough for the first crickets to be chirping in the gathering evening. The familiar sounds of home go a little way toward easing Mae's nerves, although the idea of going back to the house still makes her feel queasy.

"Kinda surprised you came home, honestly," Callie says.

"Yeah," Mae agrees. She just didn't have anywhere else to go, really, and she would've missed Mom and Callie, at least.

"Oh, hey," Callie says. "You remember the Murphy kid? Ashton?"

Mae looks over at her. Of course she remembers Ashton Murphy; he made her life a living hell for the last two years she was in high school. He was the first kid to actually make things physical, too, and take it beyond just checking her into lockers and petty stuff like that. Callie fought Ashton, once, just straight up squared off with him in the parking lot outside the school, which made him back off a little but being known as the guy who needs his older sister to defend him didn't do anything for Mae's reputation. She's still grateful, though. She's not sure she ever told Callie that.

"Yeah," she says. "What about him?"

"He's in jail," Callie says. "Burglary, apparently."

"Damn," Mae says. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Besides, going to jail is one of the three things you do after high school in Reidsville, if you aren't going somewhere on a scholarship or joining the Army.

There's another long quiet; the crickets are getting louder. There's a light breeze from sunward, carrying the scent of soil and pine.

"I remember when you fought him," Mae says.

"Ha," Callie says. "Yeah. Well, he deserved it, trying to mess with my little brother."

It shouldn't sting. It stings. Fuck it.

"Uh, Callie? Can I tell you something really weird?"

Callie leans forward on her rock, eyes narrowing. "Sure."

"Please promise you won't freak out."

"Promise," Callie says. "You're worrying me here, Mae."

Hearing her own name again is what does it. Mae takes a deep breath and leaps off the cliff's edge.

"I'm a girl."

There's a long, long quiet, with just the crickets and the breeze and a crow calling in the distance, sunlit clouds slowly rolling across the evening sky.

"Well," she says. "Like transgender?"

"Yeah," Mae says. She can't go back now. This is what coming out feels like, apparently.

Callie just looks at her, and Mae blushes, ashamed. She looks away, eyes on the setting sun, anywhere but on Callie.

Eventually, Callie says: "Bet you make a pretty girl."

It's so far from what she's expecting that a giggle bubbles up out of Mae's chest. "Come on," she says.

"I'm serious," Callie says, voice quiet and firm. "I bet you look cute as anything. I mean, with the - you know," and she makes a gesture with her hands, which seems like it's intended to convey curvaceousness, and that's just the most ridiculous thing of all.

Mae rolls her eyes. "Right."

"Hey," Callie says, softly now, tentative, like she's worried Mae's going to jump up at any moment and just disappear. Mae glances over at her, and Callie's holding a hand out. Mae takes it, and Callie squeezes her affectionately, rubbing the back of Mae's hand with a thumb. Her skin's soft, and this time she doesn't let go.

"You... need any clothes? Not sure if anything of mine will fit you, but if you want it, it's yours."

Mae smiles, a blush coloring her cheeks. She likes the way Callie dresses, but it's not her style - the jeans and t-shirt look, which on Callie just shows off her long lean lines and golden skin and graceful muscles, just makes Mae feel like a scruffy college boy.

"Thanks," Mae says. "I'm more of a... dress person, though. Or skirt and blouse."

"Figures," Callie replies. An hour ago it would've been a lighthearted joke, but now her voice is all seriousness. Mae's glad that it figures for Callie. She likes the idea that Callie thinks dresses and skirts suit her.

"Have you ever, uh, done that? Gotten to dress up that way?"

Mae's blush deepens. "Only when I know my roommate's not gonna come back."

"Aw," Callie says. "Here. Look. Come with me, we're going back to the house. I wanna see you. The real you, I mean."

"Callie," Mae stammers. "It's - I mean, if Dad..."

"Nah," Callie says. "He and Mom have a lodge meeting tonight. They're gonna be gone all evening. Already left, probably."

Mae frowns. "Are you sure? I don't want things to be weird. With us, I mean."

"Mae," Callie says, putting a little extra emphasis on the name. "You're my - my sister. I want to see how you look. It's not gonna be weird."

Mae swallows. "Alright," she whispers.

---

"You okay in there?"

Mae looks herself up and down in the bathroom mirror again, swallowing nervously. "I look horrible," she says back. She's wearing her favorite outfit, powder-blue blouse and navy blue A-line skirt, with a padded bra to give herself a bit of shape and a bright blue ribbon in her hair. Blue's always been her color. On her best days, when she looks at herself dressed this way, squints, and tries to ignore a lot of things, she can sorta see a girl in the mirror. Right now, she's too nervous to do all that, so what she sees is an awkward gangly little boy. God, she fucking hates this.

"C'mon," Callie says. "It can't be that bad."

"Fine," Mae mutters, and yanks the door open. She screws her eyes shut, not wanting to see Callie's face.

"Holy shit," Callie says, quietly. Reverently, almost.

"What," Mae says, eyes still clamped shut.

A couple moments later, she feels one of Callie's hands on her shoulder, then another on her waist. Her eyes pop open. Callie's looking at her, eyes wide, lips parted in surprise. The tips of her sister's fingers trail lightly down Mae's side, feeling the material of her blouse.

"Jesus," Callie breathes. "Mae, you're... wow."

Mae swallows, mouth suddenly dry. "I know I'm not -," she begins, but Callie silences her with a finger to her lips.

"You're beautiful," Callie says, simple as that, like she's declaring the likelihood of the sun coming up in the east tomorrow.

Mae shakes her head. She's not beautiful, she's not. Callie's beautiful, beautiful in a real, genuine way that Mae can never be. If she's lucky Mae might eventually pass, which would be nice, but never beautiful. She opens her mouth again to object, and -

Before she can say anything, Callie's lips are on hers, soft and warm and perfect.

---

Mae's first-ever kiss lasts nearly a second.

Callie breaks the kiss off and pulls back away from her. "H- Oh my God," she stammers, looking suddenly terrified. Mae's never seen her sister so scared, not even when she spun her truck out in the rain one time and came a couple inches from hitting a tree. Callie backs away, raising her hands. "Mae, I'm - oh my God, I'm so fucking sorry, I just - you were just standing there like - oh my fuck."

Mae winces, twisting her hands together in front of her belly. "It's okay," she mumbles. Shamefully, she's thought about kissing Callie before - thought about it pretty often, in fact - but her dumb gross fantasies have never had this much apologizing in them.

"It's -" Callie stops short, mid-apology. "What do you mean it's okay?"

"I said it's okay," Mae says, quietly. "I. Uh. It's fine."

Callie steps closer to her again. "No it isn't," she says, raising her voice slightly. "Mae, I just fucking - I can't believe I kissed you!"

Mae winces, feels a flush crawling up her neck. Callie's too close, the static of the kiss is still lingering on her lips, and her body's starting to react in a way she really doesn't like.

Callie starts apologizing again, words spilling out of her, and it hurts. It hurts a lot more than Mae might've thought, actually. She hates hearing Callie berating herself, hates her older sister apologizing to her like this, most of all hates that she had this stupid perverted idea in her head of what kissing Callie might be like and reality is destroying it live in front of her and replacing it with something terrible.

Mae can't think of anything else to do, so she leans forward a little, closes the remaining couple of inches to her older sister, and kisses her again.

The kiss starts off unsure. The first one was a weird impulse, the kind of thing that just happens sometimes when the brain doesn't catch up to the body in time. This one... has to mean something a little more than that, because Mae did it after she had time to think about it.

Callie kisses her back.

And then again.

And again.

And then Callie's closer, pressing Mae backwards against the wall of her bedroom, lips warm and wanting and almost cherry-red, and Mae's mouth is dry and her blood is hot, and -

"Mae," Callie murmurs, quiet, needy. Mae nods, panting, and Callie half-drags half-carries her out of her own bedroom, out into the hallway, into Callie's room, and pushes her down onto her back on the bed. She shoves the door shut, then turns to Mae, looking down at her with heat in her eyes, raises her arms above her head, and peels her t-shirt off.

Mae lets herself really look, for the first time in her whole life, at Callie. The lean muscles moving under her skin are poetry, and the hard lines of her ab muscles are... well, Mae wants very badly to touch them, and perhaps it's best left at that. Callie undoes her bra, too, and drops it on the floor. Her breasts are gorgeous, small and high on her chest, tanned nearly as deeply as the rest of her. She must spend a good amount of time outside without a shirt on, some small part of Mae thinks.

Callie climbs onto the bed, straddles Mae's hips. Mae can feel the evidence of her own arousal pressing against Callie, and it fills her with a wave of nausea so strong she flinches away from recognizing it for what it is.

"Callie," she says. "I don't wanna, uh -"

Callie stops abruptly, looking down at her. "We can stop," she says, "if you - if you want." There's an edge of sadness there, of raw and ragged unfulfilled wanting, that makes Mae's heart clench.

"No," Mae says. "I want to - to keep going. I just don't want to, uh. You know."

She looks down at her own crotch, at the bulge beneath her skirt, hoping Callie will get the hint without her having to say it. Callie does.

"'course," Callie says, after a second. "Uh. Can I - can I show you something, and if you don't like it, you just say so and I'll stop?"

"Sure," Mae says, eyes fixed on the graceful line of Callie's neck, of all things. She's never seen anything so gorgeous as Callie is right now, topless, straddling her. Mae wants to drink every bit of her in, so that some small part of Callie will become part of her, too. If that happened, she thinks, it'd shine out through her skin and light her up the way her sister's always been lit up.

Callie hops off, and then there's the noise of a zipper. A few seconds later, Callie's back on the bed, back on top of her, holding a coil of white rope in her hands.

"I, um," Callie says, blushing deeply. "There's this girl I dated, 'bout a year ago, and she got me into... this stuff. Uh. You okay if I tie you up?"

Oh, shit.

Her fantasies about Callie were bad enough - already something she'd figured she would carry to her grave. This, though, is something else. Callie tying her up is what she'd come back to when she was... well, you know, trying to get herself off, and nothing else was working. It's like the deepest, most primal thing she's ever wanted, and she never, ever thought it could be anything more than a fantasy she kept buried as deep as she could.

She gives a jerky nod, trying not to stop breathing.

"Good girl," Callie purrs, and the words work their way through Mae's ears and right down her spine. Her sister takes Mae's wrists, pulls them together in front of her chest, then starts carefully coiling the rope around them. Callie's staring intently at the rope as she works with it; Mae watches her, watches the tiny way her sister's breath stutters, the way her hands shake ever so slightly as she pulls the rope firm. Callie tugs Mae's wrists above her head, then loops the tail of the rope around the headboard, tugs on it until Mae's knuckles are just brushing the old wood, then ties them off. Mae flexes her hands; they're not going anywhere now.

"That okay?", Callie says.

"Mhm," Mae replies.

Callie leans down, a little closer, and her lips brush the side of Mae's throat. "Ready for me to play with," her sister says, a new harmonic in her voice, and it's so powerfully right that Mae almost passes out then and there. She whimpers, squirming with a potent mix of fear and arousal, and Callie's teeth scrape lightly along her skin, which just makes things worse.

"Fuck," Callie breathes. "Mae, I gotta tell you something."

"Mm?" is all Mae can manage.

"I've, uh," Callie says. "I've... thought about this before."

Mae blinks, eyes widening.

"I mean, uh," Callie goes on, as though abruptly realizing what she just said. "Before I... knew about you, you know. I used to - to think about... making you. Uh. Making you dress up like a girl."

Oh, fuck. That's it. The pieces slot together for her. Callie doesn't understand that she's a girl after all, not really; Callie thinks she's a boy playing dress-up, and she's getting off on that. Fuck. Fuck!

"Woah," Callie says. "Hey." She sits up, sensing Mae's distress. "Sorry. What's wrong?"

Tears are gathering in the corners of Mae's eyes now. God fucking dammit. "It's nothing," she grits out.

"Liar," Callie says, flatly. "Tell me what it is."

There's an edge to her voice, the same harmonic Mae heard before, and despite how fucked up it all is it makes her shiver just the same.

"I just," Mae starts. "I mean. Knowing that you thought about me like that... before. It. It made me think that you think I'm just some guy getting off on cross-dressing now, and I'm. I'm not."

"Oh, fuck," Callie breathes. "Mae. Shit. I'm so sorry. I didn't - sorry, I didn't mean that. I just meant that... that I thought about doing this with you, before."

"It's alright," Mae whispers, through tears. "I get it."

Callie gives her a small smile. "Here," she says, and unties Mae's wrists from the headboard, but leaves them bound together. She pulls Mae into a cuddle, wraps her body around her, pulls her close and tight. Her body's firm against Mae's back, and she takes Mae's bound wrists in one hand and holds them firmly.

When Mae starts to apologize again for ruining things, Callie clamps her other hand over her mouth.

"No talking," she says. "I know what you're gonna say, and I don't want you to say it."

Fair enough. Mae doesn't really feel like fighting her, anyway. Callie just holds her, hands playing gently across Mae's skin, and even through her clothing it's electric. Within a handful of minutes Mae's panting again, squirming with need, and Callie lays a kiss on the back of her neck.

"You didn't ruin a thing," she murmurs.

Mae whimpers as the tips of Callie's fingers flutter over her breasts. Even through the padded bra they're incredibly sensitive, and the light touches send heat washing through her.

"I wanna fuck you," Callie says. "Like a girl. You want that?"

Mae nods, urgently. She doesn't know what Callie means, precisely, but she's sure that she wants whatever Callie wants to do to her.

Callie just lightly presses the points of her incisors to the back of Mae's throat. "Gonna fuck your ass, little girl," she says, and it's not even a question - just a statement about how things are going to be. Mae bites back a moan and nods again. The hot, perfect pressure of Callie's body against her back vanishes, and Mae hears her rummaging, then the sound of fasteners and creaking leather.

"On your back," Callie says. Mae rolls over, looks up at Callie, and - holy shit. Callie's stripped down to just her panties, and she's wearing a leather harness around her hips, a small black toy jutting out. Mae's eyes go wide.

"Easy, girl. I'll give you plenty of warmup first," Callie says. "Hands up by the headboard again."

Mae swallows her nerves and does so. She knows if she says she wants to stop, Callie will, but also, if she says she wants to stop, she might never get another chance at this, and God, but does she want it. She's never wanted anything so badly in her whole life as she wants Callie to fuck her right now.

Callie gets onto the bed next to her and ties her hands to the headboard firmly. "Alright, girl," she says, one hand resting lightly on Mae's throat. Her skin feels like it's burning there. With her other hand, she touches the waistband of Mae's skirt.

"I won't, uh, touch you here 'less you tell me it's okay, but I gotta take your panties off, at least."

"O-okay," Mae whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut again. She really, really doesn't want Callie to see her down there, but she really, really does want Callie to fuck her right now, so she'll have to put up with it.

Callie lifts Mae's skirt, then pulls her panties over her hips, down her legs, and all the way off. Mae doesn't dare look at her.

"Beautiful," Callie murmurs. "Every bit of you."

Mae blushes. "Glad you think so."

"Keep your eyes closed," Callie orders her. "Just focus on feeling." She waits a second, then Mae feels Callie's fingertips trailing slowly up the insides of her thighs. She's fully aroused right now, she can feel that, but much more than that she can feel the skin directly under her big sister's hands, which feels like it's ablaze. Callie gently strokes and caresses and explores until Mae's practically out of her mind, and only then does Mae hear a snap and then feel something soft and slick against her ass.

"Just a finger," Callie explains. "Lemme know if it hurts."

Mae nods, whining with need, and then there's a gentle pressure, and then a little more and a little more until suddenly Callie's finger just slips inside her. It doesn't hurt the way she thought it would; instead it just feels... good, weird and vulnerable and intimate and overpoweringly feminine in a way that rips a sob from her.

Callie stops abruptly, finger just inside her sister. "Y'okay?"

Mae nods again. "Y-yeah. Really okay."

"Atta girl," Callie says, and she goes back to gradually working her finger deeper and deeper into Mae. It feels incredible, like nothing Mae's ever imagined before. A little bit later, quietly, Callie says: "Open your eyes."

Mae does. Callie's right above her, looking down at her, finger buried all the way inside her. There's this look in her eyes, dark and liquid, that Mae's never seen before and that seems to go all the way to the hind part of her brain and settle there. More than anything else, Mae feels utterly hers.

"First time?", Callie says.

Mae nods.

"Well now I feel extra lucky," Callie says, with a smirk. Mae desperately wants to kiss her for that, but she's out of reach.

Callie watches Mae's face, that same possessive look in her eyes, cooing soft reassurance and praise, as she gradually works a second slick finger inside her. It's a lot at first, but Mae slowly gets used to the feeling of being filled this way, and once she's used to it, it's - it's really good, like indescribably good. She wants more of this.

Mae can see the tension in Callie's shoulders, can see how much her older sister wants this - wants her.

"I'm ready," she breathes.

"Kay," Callie pants. She slowly draws her two fingers out, leaving Mae feeling bizarrely empty, then squeezes a bunch of lubricant onto the toy jutting from her hips. "Legs up," Callie says, and Mae pulls both her knees up towards her chest.

"That's it," Callie purrs, lining the toy up with Mae's ass. Mae whimpers, caught between need and fear again, but she can't go anywhere and besides it's Callie, so she's safe, so she just waits and lets her older sister take her. The toy pops inside her and Callie groans in pleasure as she works it deeper and deeper in. Mae can feel herself twitching, arousal starting to form a sticky pool on her lower belly, but she blocks that out and focuses as best she can on the feeling of Callie fucking her.

"God almighty," Callie murmurs, when her hips press against Mae's butt. "You're something else, Mae."

"That, um," Mae says. She's a bit embarrassed not to know this, but still. "That feels good for you too?"

"Oh," Callie says, giggling. "This toy has a part that's inside me as well. It definitely feels good, yeah."

"Oh," Mae replies, and then Callie starts slowly fucking her with the toy, and all the words drain out of her mind altogether. She's not thinking anything, just feeling, just sinking into the sensation of the rope on her wrists, Callie's lips on her lips, Callie's hands beneath her blouse, and above all the feeling of Callie's toy pumping in and out of her, taking her, claiming her the way she never really thought she'd be lucky enough to be claimed.

"Holy - oh God, fuck," Callie says, and then one of her hands dives between her own legs, slides beneath the harness. She's still fucking Mae deep and hard when she comes. Mae can see it, the way her sister's muscles tense, the way her head arches back, the sheen of sweat on her breasts. The sound Callie makes when she's coming is divine. Mae wants to hear it over and over, forever.

Callie gradually slows her pace, eventually stops. She leans forward, toy still buried all the way inside Mae. "Jesus," she murmurs.

"Jesus," Mae agrees.

"Uh," Callie says, blushing slightly. "Can I... can I touch you? Get you off, maybe?"

God, but Mae wants that. Wants it more than just about anything, really, but there's just... she... she doesn't want to pollute this like that. She gives a tiny shake of her head.

To her credit, Callie doesn't pry. "Alright," she says, simply, then gradually draws the toy out, leaving Mae feeling empty and kind of cold. Callie slips the harness back off, unties Mae's wrists, then gathers her into her arms and squeezes her.

"You're so wonderful, Mae," Callie says. "I can't - wow."

Despite herself, Mae smiles. She presses her forehead against Callie's collarbone. "You're pretty great yourself," she says.

"You wanna, um," Callie says. "You wanna do that again? Some time?"

Mae giggles. "Yeah," she replies. "I do."