Luther was not expecting to see Vanya in the laundry room of the mansion at half past midnight, but in fairness, there were few people he would expect to meet in these circumstances.
Luther didn't really know how Vanya did her laundry, except that she had to do it some time, since she wore clean clothes. But he hadn’t seen her in here since she’d lived here, and that had been… who knew how many years ago. But there she was, sitting on a washing machine with a book, looking drowsy.
"Vanya?" Luther cleared his throat, and he wished that he'd been wearing a turtleneck instead of just a t-shirt. He rubbed his hands over his arms, and his palms rasped over the hair. She had to be able to hear that, with her powers.
He was acutely aware of how small she was— she was sitting cross legged on the top of the washing machine, a book in her lap, her expression drowsy. He remembered holding her in his arms in that other dimension or timeline or whatever it was, and he remembered how bony her shoulder blades had been, how frail her ribs were, as they tried to expand as he held her tight. Shame tightened like a wire around his heart, and he gave her a nervous smile.
She didn't look scared of him, at least— they weren't alone with each other that often these days. He didn't want to scare her.
"Hi," she said, and she yawned. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"
"My, uh, my circadian rhythm is still a little out of whack," he said. "Some part of my mind still wants me to get up and check..." He trailed off. "Well, you don't need to know all the details about that," he said, and he cleared his throat. Allison had once suggested, gently, that he go to a bar or maybe a club that astronauts frequented, to find someone else who understood some of the things that he talked about— the anxieties about there being enough air, the phantom need to check the instruments, check the seals, check to make sure there wasn't any dust, that nothing was eroding or wearing down.
"Oh," said Vanya, and she yawned, rubbing her eyes again. She rested her elbow on her thigh, and the book in her lap dipped forward. It was a thick paperback— the kind of thing that he'd seen in used bookstores, usually on tables with little cardboard signs saying buy two, get one free. "The washing machine in my building is broken, and I got my—" She paused, and she was turning red. She cleared her throat, tried again. "I needed to do my laundry," she said. "I was out of clean stuff rather, uh, suddenly, and I know that the washing machines here are always working, and I've always found the twenty four hour places kinda creepy..." She trailed off, cleared her throat. "Sorry," she said.
That might have been the most the two of them had ever said to each other that wasn't in relation to Dad or saving the world.
"For what?" He frowned, and he leaned against another washing machine. It creaked warningly.
"I dunno." She shrugged. "Being awkward, I guess."
It was his turn to shrug. "I'm the last one to judge anyone on being awkward," he said. "I'm pretty out of practice with talking to people."
She shot him a slight grin, and he was grinning back at her in spite of himself. She had a sweet face, he realized. He'd never noticed that before. "But yeah," she said, and she stretched. "I just forgot how long these washing machines take, so... I'm gonna be here a while yet."
"I can do it for you," he said, surprising even himself.
"What?" She blinked at him.
"Your laundry," he said. "I can put it in the dryer for you, and fold it." He rubbed his hands together, shifting from foot to foot. "You look like you're about to fall asleep. You can, uh... you can sleep in one of the spare rooms, I can put it in the dryer, fold it up."
"You don't have to do that," Vanya said, and she yawned again, wider. Her mouth was still so small that he could probably only fit three of his fingers into it, and why was that a thing he was thinking about?
"You're obviously falling asleep," he said, and he moved a little closer to her, until he was within touching distance. "I'm not going to sleep for a while yet, and even if I get tired, it's not like I have to worry about getting up in the morning."
"If you're sure," Vanya said. "I don't... want to put you out." She was obviously at lest two thirds asleep, and was having trouble keeping her eyes open.
"Go sleep," said Luther. "I've done Allison's laundry before." He paused. "Do you have anything that can't be put in the dryer?" He'd accidentally put one of Allison's bras in the dryer once. Allison had been pretty annoyed about that.
"Nope," she said, and she got up off of the dryer. Standing up, her head wasn't even level with his shoulder. God but she was tiny. His mouth was going dry, and he had no idea why. "If you're sure?"
"Go sleep," Luther said firmly, "before you fall asleep in here. It'll hurt your neck."
"Thanks," she said, and she smiled at him, reached a hand out to pat him on the hand. She saw him wince, and she pulled her hand back, gave him a slightly more nervous smile. "So, uh... see you in the morning."
"Sleep well," he said. He reached his hand out for her. "I'll leave your clean stuff here, so you can find it in the morning."
More credit to her, she didn't flinch, even when he reached out to pat her on the shoulder. His hand covered her whole shoulder, but she didn't seem to be bothered by it. She covered his hand with her own, then gave it a squeeze. "Thanks," she said, and she gave another yawn, then made her way out of the laundry room, towards one of the myriad bedrooms.
Luther stood in the empty laundry room, then gave a mental shrug, and went to get his own book. If nothing else, he was doing something constructive, right?
* * *
Vanya’s clothes were small. He couldn’t get over that, as he carefully folded them. He could only fit two of his fingers into one of her socks, and her boxers were small enough that they probably wouldn't go up past his knee. He folded it all carefully, with crisp corners, lining it all up.
Vanya had always been small. At one point they'd all been the same size, but around fourteen the rest of them had shot up, and she had stayed short. It was another thing that set her apart from the rest of them. He knew she was strong; they all trained together these days, and her powers had knocked him on his ass more times than he could count. But her actual body— her physical self— was surprisingly small. Delicate. On someone else her features might have been called "dainty," but the stubborn set of her jaw and the lined between her eyebrows belied that description.
He set her clothes on the dryer carefully, and he made his way towards his bedroom. Exhaustion was finally beginning to tug on his limbs. He lay in bed, letting his eyes slide shut, and let sleep overtake him. The last thing to float into his head, before he succumbed, was the mental image of Vanya in one of his shirts. It would be a dress on her.
* * *
The next morning, Vanya sat at the breakfast table and nursed a cup of coffee.
Luther was eating his own breakfast, a mixing bowl of oatmeal, and watching Vanya. He was trying to be subtle about it, at the very least. He just couldn’t get her smallness out of his head, and that was probably a sign that there was something was wrong with him. But she was just so small, wasn’t she? She was taking little nibbles of a piece of toast in front of her, and her mouth was small enough that they left little crescents.
What would it be like to kiss a mouth that small? went through Luther's head, and he flushed.
"Luther," said Vanya, and Luther tried not to jump.
"Hm?" He blinked, trying to get back to the real world. He wasn't even sure what it was he was thinking about, but it was embarrassing.
"Thanks for doing my laundry," she said, and she looked sheepish.
"Of course," said Luther, smiling at her with only a bit of nerves.
"I'll have to return the favor," said Vanya.
The mental image of Vanya struggling under a giant pile of his clothes. Somehow, it became the image of Vanya wearing his clothes. His shirt would go all the way to her knees, and the neck hole would go over one shoulder. She was small enough that she could wear absolutely nothing underneath it, and nobody would be the wiser. Her small breasts, her narrow hips, her thin thighs…
He licked his lips.
It wasn't the first time he'd gone on those kinds of mental tangents. He had been fantasizing about Allison since before puberty, and he had lost his train of thought more than once while admiring the plush fullness of Diego's mouth. He just usually wasn't so… fixated on one particular aspect. Was he being a creep?
"Are you okay?" Vanya shot him a faintly worried look.
"Hm?" He watched her tuck a piece of hair behind one tiny ear, and he cleared his throat. It was very loud. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, sorry. Just, uh… distracted. Kind of tired."
"That's my fault," said Vanya. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Luther said. "Well, I mean, you can be, but you weren't keeping me up. I would have been pacing around the hallways otherwise, or rereading the library."
Vanya snorted. "I don't think you've read the whole library," she said.
"You doubt the extent of my insomnia?" Luther rested his elbows on the table, then pulled them back, as the table creaked.
"I've never actually had insomnia," said Vanya, her tone thoughtful. "When I was on my meds I slept like the dead, and now…" She looked faintly embarrassed. “I feel like since i”m… experiencing more, I end up getting a lot more tired.”
“Your meds really took a lot out of you, didn’t they?” Luther shot her a look that hopefully conveyed his concern. Truth be told, he hadn’t paid much attention to Vanya before the near-pocalypse. He remembered her as a figure at their dad’s heels with a whistle and a clipboard, a shadow in the corner playing violin. Had she been that subdued?
Vanya shrugged, and there was a faintly bitter cast to her features. “It is what it is,” she said, and she sighed, leaning back in her chair and yawning. She arched her back as she did it, and her small breasts pressed into the front of her shirt.
I could cover her whole breast with just the palm of my hand, thought Luther, and that… oh, that was a heady thought. A heady feeling.
"Well," said Luther with finality, "things are different now." He wanted to reach out, to hold her hand. He wanted to apologize for all the things he had done when he was still a kid. But… that wouldn't be fair to any of them.
"You're right," Vanya agreed, and she sighed. "I should be going."
"You're free to come over any time you want," Luther blurted out.
Vanya looked at him, her expression faintly skeptical. "What?"
"I mean, obviously, you're always free to come over. Since it is your house too. Your name is even on the deed, since all of us own an equal share of it. But if you wanted to come over for other reasons that weren't laundry you're, uh, you're… free to." Luther trailed off, and cleared his throat. He had just said way too much, hadn't he? Allison always (nicely) told him to to shut up when he started down the babbling path. Vanya appeared to just watch him.
"Right," Vanya said, and she sounded faintly nonplussed. “Do you want me to come over more?"
Luther cleared his throat, aware that he was blushing. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I'd like you to come visit more." He paused. "Or I could come visit you, if you'd be okay with that. With me. In your apartment. Although I probably wouldn't fit, now that I think about it, and maybe—"
"Do you want to come over on Friday night and watch a movie?" Vanya interrupted. "We can order takeout, make a proper night of it."
"Um," said Luther, then: "sure."
She smiled at him, and his stomach seemed to be trying to leap up his throat. "It's a date."
That shouldn't have made his heart beat that much faster, and yet.
* * *
Luther was awkward in Vanya's hallway, his shoulders almost as wide as the frame of her front door. He had been agonizing over whether to bring wine or flowers or chocolate or… what. She was his sister, it was true, but that hadn't stopped the rest of the family. He and Allison were still continuing their awkward courtship, and Klaus and Diego were getting up to who even knew what. So really, treating this as a date-date wasn't too out of the question, right?
(When he had mentioned he might have been interested in Vanya like that, Allison had laughed at him, then given him the go ahead. At least it had been nice laughter).
When Vanya opened the door to her apartment, she looked up at him, her eyes darting along the broad line of his shoulders. The regular shame and revulsion tried to claw their way up his throat— you're just a big ape, you're disgusting, how dare you show yourself around normal people— and then her face broke into a big smile.
"I'm so glad you could make it," she said, and she stepped aside, so that he could walk in. He only had to turn sideways a little bit, and then she was squeezing behind him, shutting the door and locking it. "You're, uh, you're the first person in the family who's been here, other than Allison."
"Yeah, Allison mentioned that she'd visited," Luther said, and then he cleared his throat. "I, uh, I brought some soda?" He held out the six pack. "It’s fancy soda— they made it with real fruit."
"Thanks," said Vanya, and she took the six pack from him, heading towards her fridge. "Make yourself at home," she said over her shoulder, as she leaned down to put her six pack in the fridge.
She was wearing a pair of soft grey lounge pants printed with little black musical notes, and when she leaned down, he could see the faint outline of her underwear, her boxers hugging her thighs. He swallowed thickly, and he sat on the couch, leaning back carefully. He didn't want to knock anything over— it all felt so... close, and delicate. Like her. He was getting a boner, he realized, and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and he rested his chin on his palm.
"So what do you want for dinner?" He tried to keep his tone casual, tried not to watch the sway of her narrow hips, or the way he could see her shoulder blades poking out against the fabric of her shirt. She was wearing a light blue long sleeved shirt, and it looked so comfortable— she looked so comfortable— that some part of him wanted to frame this moment in time, and come back to it when he was feeling lonely.
"I'm up for just about anything," said Vanya, and she stood up, stretching, then yawned. "I'm sorry, work was a bit... much." She made a face, and he had to grin at how cute she looked, her nose wrinkling up like that.
"Much?" He scooted over on the couch as much as he could, to give her a bit more room, and she sat down next to him. She looked... relaxed. Much more relaxed than he remembered her being when she was a kid— there had always been a stiffness to her, an awkwardness. She looked downright relaxed right now, her hair damp and her eyes half shut.
"We've got new people, so there's a lot of the standard trying to figure out who does what and getting into the rhythm of how we all do things together," she said.
"Was that a pun?" Luther frowned, but there wasn't much venom to it. He wanted to wrap his arm around her shoulders, but that was probably a bad idea. Last time he'd had his arm around her, he'd choked her out.
... Although that wasn't a thing he wanted to think about right now, when he was this close to her, and could smell the slightly tropical sweetness of her shampoo, and could have traced the slope of her nose with the tip of one finger. He wanted things to be alright between them— better than alright, he wanted them to be good. It would probably be easier to get there if he didn't keep reminding her of trauma.
"It might have been," said Vanya. "I think I'm tired enough that even I'm not sure."
Luther snorted. "That's usually not a good sign," he told her. "Maybe you're working too hard."
She rubbed a hand across her face and yawned. He tried not to stare at how small her hands were, even in proportion to her equally small face. "Maybe," she said. "So what do you want for dinner?"
"How about Chinese?" He remembered her liking Chinese food when they were kids— they hadn't gotten takeout that often, but when they did, she and Klaus had always wanted to order from the one Chinese place down the street.
"I'd like that," said Vanya. "What kind of movie would you want to watch?"
"As long as it isn't some variation on King Kong I'm good," said Luther, paging through the various little papers.
"I've never been one for King Kong," said Vanya, "so we should be set." She smiled at him, and his stomach did another awkward little somersault.
* * *
Vanya sat next to Luther on the couch, close enough that her thigh was against his. Her legs were thin, and her knees were knobbly, even through her pajama pants. She was wearing thick grey socks, and he remembered folding those up. She was nursing a bottle of passion fruit soda, and Luther was trying very hard not to think of that name.
Passion fruit. He sure was feeling a lot of it.
He tried not to stare at the delicate curve of her ear, and how small it was. He wondered what it would be like, to trace his tongue along the shell of it and take the lobe in his mouth, to suck on it. He might have been able to take her whole ear into his mouth if he was very careful about it. Her hearing was so sensitive...
Vanya caught his eye, gave him a quizzical look. "Do I have something on my face?" She brought up a hand, brushing it across her cheek.
"No," Luther said quickly. "No, your face is great. Fine. Um." He was blushing.
She smiled at him, brought the bottle up to her mouth and took a sip. Her little pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, and he was beginning to get hard again. Oh god.
"You don't have to be so afraid," Vanya said, and her tone was gentle. There was a little bit of hurt in it, too, but she didn't seem to realize that was coming through.
"I'm not afraid," Luther said. I'm only really afraid of you realizing just how much of a boner I've got right now, he thought but didn't say.
"You keep looking at me like you're afraid I'll bite you or something," said Vanya. She said it with a casualness that was entirely put on. Luther was aware that he was somewhat... stunted in certain social respects, but even he could tell that Vanya was ill at ease.
"I'm not afraid of you," said Luther, and that was true, for the most part. "I'm not scared of you, it's just that I'm... not that used to other people. Other people when we're not, y'know, trying to stop the end of the world."
"Because I was going to end the world," Vanya said, deadpan.
"I mean, you were," said Luther, and oh god, he was just digging himself deeper, wasn't he? "But not on purpose." -
Vanya was just looking at him. Her hand was wrapped around the bottle, and he couldn't stop staring at the way her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Would her fingers be able to wrap around my cock, or would it be too thick for her?
"I should... I should go," Vanya said, and she cleared her throat, took another swig of the soda. He watched the line of her throat move as she swallowed, and he tried not to think of that one blue movie he'd seen when he was a teenager, him and Diego and Ben and Klaus sneaking into a seedy movie theater. There had been a woman in the movie, and she'd been giving a man a blow job. He'd shoved his cock down her throat, and her throat... her throat had bulged. Would that happen with Vanya? Had she ever done that sort of thing?
"You don't have to go," Luther said, his eyes still on her throat, and then he looked down at his own huge hands. "This is your house. And I'm the one who keeps saying the stupid things."
"They're not stupid," said Vanya, and her knuckles were white on the bottle. "You're just saying what happened."
Luther reached out impulsively, and he covered her small hand with his own. He covered it completely, and her knuckles were bony against his palm. "I may be saying what happened," he said, and he leaned a little closer, so that his face was closer to hers, "but there are ways of saying... that kind of thing. And it's okay." He sighed, and he watched the way it made her hair stir over her face. "You could point out how I did some pretty horrible things, too," he pointed out. "Not on a global scale, no, but it could also be argued that—"
"Are you really trying to tell me that you locking me in a soundproof room was worse than me trying to end the world?" Luther couldn't read Vanya's expression.
“To you, personally? Yeah.” He kept his hand over hers. It completely covered hers. “It’s… I’m sorry. I could be nicer.”
She shrugged. “We all could,” she said, which was, admittedly true. “I’m not mad at you.”
“I’m not mad at you either,” he told her, and he wished he sounded a bit less… earnest.
“That’s good,” said Vanya. She hadn't taken his hand off of hers, and his stomach shouldn't have been soaring like that. "I'm sorry, Luther," she said, and her voice was very quiet.
Impulsively, he lifted his arm up, pulled her closer to him. By all rights, she should have pulled away, should have gone running. The last time he had embraced her he had squeezed the air out of her lungs.
She cuddled up into him, her head on his chest, and she rested the bottle on her thigh, to keep it from tipping over. She let him squeeze her, and she sighed into him.
She was so tiny, nestled into him like this. His hand seemed to cover the entirety of her hip, and he gave it a tentative squeeze.
She signed again , still relaxed into him, and he hoped desperately that she wouldn't notice the fact that he had an erection.
* * *
Vanya fell asleep on Luther, clutching at his shirt. She snored quietly as the movie played, and he tried to think about things that weren't sexy, even as his brain seemed determined to concentrate on the way her fingers had looked on that glass bottle, and how those same fingers would look wrapped around his shaft.
At some point, the movie ended, and Vanya stayed asleep. He didn't move— wanted to soak in the sensation of her small body against his own. She seemed soothed by the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his heart beat in his ribs. She made quiet little noises in her sleep, and her eyes moved under their lids. Occasionally, something in the apartment would vibrate, or float, then settle back down. He wondered if she knew that she used her powers in her sleep.
It was his last thought before he fell asleep as well.
* * *
"Luther?" He was being prodded in the ribs, and someone was speaking in his ear. "Luther!"
Luther woke up, blinking in the yellow light, and found himself looking down into Vanya's face. She was sitting up, and she had a line on her face, where a fold in his shirt had pressed into her cheek. "Hi," he said, not fully aware of what was going on.
"Hi," she said, and she wriggled away from him, yawning as she stood up. "Wow, it got late." She frowned at the Chinese food containers still spread out on the coffee table, and she yawned again.
Luther stood up, carefully. It was quiet- quieter than the mansion. Vanya's apartment building wasn't as old. There was the sound of people walking in the street, their voices a long way off m and echoing in the empty streets. "I should get going," he said. "I'll just-"
"It'll be hard to get a cab at this time of night," Vanya interrupted, and then she cleared her throat, looking embarrassed. "Sorry."
"No, no, it's okay," said Luther. "I can walk home." He wasn't looking forward to it, but it was a thing he could do. People probably wouldn't bother him, and if they did, well...
"You could stay here," said Vanya. "If you wanted to, I mean." Then she frowned. "Although I don't think you would fit on my couch."
"I'll be fine walking home," Luther reassured her. "Or waiting for a cab."
"You can have the bed," said Vanya, and there was a note of finality in her voice.
"I'm not going to evict you from your bed," said Luther, scandalized.
"You won't fit anywhere else," Vanya countered, and then she looked embarrassed. "No offense."
Luther shrugged, tried not to show that the remark stung. "I don't want you to give your bed up for me," he told her.
"We can both sleep in it," said Vanya. "If you're okay with that," she added, almost as an afterthought.
"That could work," said Luther's traitor mouth, before his brain could catch up.
She smiled at him, a sweet, open expression that made his heart swell in his chest.
Oh no. He was so doomed.
* * *
Luther lay on Vanya's bed, and he tried not to move. He was still wearing his t-shirt, but he had taken his pants off and climbed into bed while she was still brushing her teeth. Her bed barely fit him, but she could just slide in besides him without touching. He was aware, as she turned the light off, that he must have been radiating heat, but she didn't seem to mind.
Did she get cold? He'd read somewhere that smaller people tended to get colder, possibly because there was less mass. He rolled onto his side, the bed creaking as he did so, and his back was to her. He was doing his best not to pull the blanket off of her either.
Then she was pressed against his back, her bony spine poking through her shirt and his shirt, right up against his own back. He'd once seen a picture of a Great Dane curled up next to a little kitten. That was what it felt like, right then and there. He was some big, hulking thing, and she was so tiny and delicate, even though her powers were strong enough to lift him up and hurl him through the wall. Maybe that was one of the reasons he was so fixated— he wasn't used to that kind of... incongruity. Luther sighed, and he let his eyes slide shut, trying to let relaxation fill him up like water in a glass. He could sleep.
He hadn't slept anyplace that wasn't his bed in the mansion or his bed on the moon, ever, but he could do this. He could.
He let the thought carry him away, as the exhaustion landed down on his head.
* * *
Luther was woken up by the sound of glass breaking. He sat bolt upright, and the whole bed creaked like a ship in a gale. His heart was beating in his chest, and it took him a moment for his mind to catch up with his surroundings. Where was he? This wasn’t his room, he wasn’t on the moon, what was— oh. He looked over to his left, and he saw Vanya sitting up as well, looking sheepish. Her hair was mussed, and her eyes were very big in her small face, bright against her pale skin.
“Sorry,” she said, and she cleared her throat. “I was, uh, I was dreaming. I think that my powers were… were reacting.”
“It’s okay,” Luther said. “It happens to everyone.”
The room was very quiet— it was like they were existing in their own little bubble of silent darkness.
“It didn’t used to happen to me,” said Vanya, and her voice was quiet. “I didn’t used to have powers.”
“It happens to everyone with powers,” Luther amended. “I think that it’s just… it’s more complicated for you, because you’re an adult now.”
Vanya had taken her long sleeve shirt off at some point, and she was wearing a tank top. He could see the bony span of her shoulders, and the way they practically glowed with luminescence in the light from the streetlight that was seeping in through the blinds. It was the same light blue as a lot of her other clothes, and he wondered if it was her favorite color.
“I’m sorry I can’t control it,” she said, and she sounded so sad, so tired.
He should have let her alone, or maybe made a sympathetic noise. Rested his hand on her knee, gave it a squeeze. What he shouldn’t have done was pull her closer to him, until her head was resting on his chest, and her small breasts were pressing against his side. The only thing separating them were two very thin bits of cotton.
She clutched at his shirt, her forehead pressing into his collarbone, and he nuzzled into the top of her head. She was sweating, and the scent of that mingled with the artificial coconut of her shampoo, and whatever deodorant she was using. She pressed closer to him, her hand flat on his chest, and he covered it with his own, pressing it harder against him.
“You’re so big,” she whispered, and her voice buzzed along his skin, making all of the hair on his body stand on end. “You were always big, but now you’re… so big.
“Sorry,” Luther said, not entirely sure what he was apologizing for. She had to hear his heart beating faster, especially with her superior hearing.
“Don’t be,” Vanya said, and she pressed closer to him. “I like it.”
“You like it,” Luther echoed.
“Well, I mean,” Vanya said, “everyone is so much bigger than me.” She sighed, and the little gust of air was ticklish against his neck, “But you’re… you’re so much bigger than I am.”
“I’d think that would scare you,” Luther said, and then he made a startled noise, as she climbed into his lap. She was straddling him, her pointy little knees digging into his sides.
“If things being bigger than me scared me, I’d never leave my apartment,” said Vanya, and she sighed, her hands on his shoulders, then moving up to the back of his head. She was ruffling the hair on the back of his head, petting it against the grain. Then her hands moved to his arms, and she squeezed his muscles. “You’re… you’re really big.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.” His hand was moving down, of its own volition. He wrapped it around her foot, and he could cover the whole of it with his whole hand. He squeezed again, and she sighed, her hands resting on his chest.
“Don’t be,” she said, and she squirmed in his lap. She was sweaty and warm, but still so impossibly light on top of him, her fingers tracing over the curves of his ears. He was getting hard against her, and he probably should have pushed her off of him, made some polite excuse, maybe gone to jerk off in the bathroom.
“I’ll try not to be,” he said instead, and she pressed closer to him, until her breasts were right up against his chest, and her breath was hot on his neck. She had to feel how hard he was, it was pressing into her thigh.
"You're so big," she repeated, and her hands were on his shoulders now. She was… shifting against him, and one of her small hands was resting on his outer thigh. "Did Dad's formula change you… all over?"
He was glad he couldn't see her face— what if she was disgusted by him? She kept squirming, an awkward little roll of her hips as her knees dug into his sides, and wait a minute…
She likes how big I am, the way I like how small she is.
The thought was like being struck by lightning, and his cock gave a full on twitch against her thigh.
"I'm pretty much the same, other than the… torso," Luther said, and he cleared his throat. “Below the waist I’m still me.”
“You’re you above the waist,” said Vanya, and she pinched his bicep, gently.
“Well, yes, but… you know what I mean,” said Luther. “Still… me, but not the original me.”
Her other hand was still on his thigh, and it was moving further inwards, towards his dick. Oh god. “I read somewhere that every cell in your body is replaced every seven years.” She scooted back, until she was balanced almost on his knees. “So you just need to wait another three years, and then it’ll all be original you.” She was talking as if this was a normal conversation, as she pressed her palm against his shaft.
“Oh,” Luther said, and his voice cracked. “Um. Do you want me to… do you want me to take them down?”
Vanya cleared her throat, and her hot little hand was like a brand as she ran her palm up and down the length of him. “If you’re… okay with that.”
“Yeah, just, give me a sec,” said Luther, and he let go of her, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and awkwardly pushed them down to the tops of his thighs. His cock sprang forward, hitting himself in the belly. He was hard enough that he was already leaking and it was probably going to soak into the hem of his shirt.
“So you were this big before?” Vanya scooted forward again, her own thighs squeezing his. She wrapped her hand around his cock, and she gave him a slow, easy stroke, spreading more of his pre-come along his shaft. “Wow.”
“I, uh… I didn’t realize there was anything w-weird about it,” said Luther, and he reached out to her. His hands went to the hem of her tank top, and he slid under it, his palms skating over her soft, warm skin.
“You can rip it,” said Vanya. She squeezed his cock again, her thumb against the slit at the tip. His hips jerked forward, and she clung to him.
“Rip it?” He tried to sort out what she was talking about.
“My shirt,” said Vanya. “You can rip it. If you want.”
“I don’t want to ruin your shirt,” said Luther, and he tugged the shirt up her back, carefully. She was sweating, and she wasn’t flinching at the leathery texture of his skin. She ducked her head down to let him pull it off. She let go of his cock, and the he sighed at the loss of contact.
“I’ve got a bunch of identical ones,” she said, and then Luther was staring at her breasts. Well, trying not to stare. It was… they were acting as if this was totally normal, as if the two of them had done this before. They hadn’t talked about this at all, they hadn’t even indicated anything. She had just… started touching him, and he had started touching her.
Luther’s head was beginning to spin, and his heart was beating faster. “Vanya,” he said, and he held on to her hips, hard enough that he might have left bruises. But she wasn’t complaining. “Vanya, what are we doing?”
She wasn’t touching his cock anymore, just his chest, clutching at them. “What do you mean?” Her nipples were darker spots on her tits, small enough that he could have covered them with his thumbs.
“We don’t… I mean…” He swallowed, and his throat clicked. “I’d think there’d be more lead up.”
“More lead up,” Vanya echoed. “What kind of lead up?” She was moving her hands down to his stomach, and her breasts jiggled when she brought her arms back, to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. Her ponytail had come loose, and her hair was going loose around her shoulders. It was deeper shadow in the dimness.
“I don’t know,” said Luther. “I, uh… I don’t have a lot of experience with… with this sort of thing.” He let his hands move up, towards her waist, and when he put his hands on either side of it, his fingers almost touched. He ran his thumbs along her ribs, and she sighed, her breasts heaving.
“I’ve been thinking about this,” she said, and her hands moved down towards his cock again, the tips trailing over the overheated skin. “I’ve been thinking about you, since I… since I first saw you. Again. At the funeral.”
“You have?” His hands crept higher, and then his thumb was up against her nipple. It was hard, and she shivered when he took her breast into his hand. “Why?”
“I like how… how big you are,” she said, and her she was scooting closer to him, until his breath was stirring the thin hair growing along her temple. “I’ve always liked how big you are. When I was younger, I used to think about that. And how you got bigger, while I stayed small.” She was holding on to his cock again, right under the head. Her fingers didn’t meet.
“What?” His head was still spinning, and he was grinding his hips forward, trying not to hump her awkwardly.
“Your size,” she said again. “It’s… I like it.” She groaned, pressing her face into his shoulder. Her breath was ticklish, and her nipples pressed into his chest through his shirt. “I’m being awkward, I’m sorry.”
“If there’s ever a time to be awkward, it’s when you’re holding your brother’s penis,” Luther said, his voice deadpan. The surreality of the moment was starting to get to him, but he was still pulsing against her. She was so light against him— even without his powers, he would have been able to pick her up without any trouble. She had both hands on him now, sliding up and down.
“You made it more awkward,” Vanya accused.
“I can live with awkward,” said Luther, and he shivered, his cock drooling more pre-come. “Although, um, if you… if you keep doing that, I’m… not going to last long.”
“I want you to fuck me,” said Vanya in a rush, and she was trembling. Her heart was racing under his palm, and he was reminded of something small and delicate and helpless, like a rabbit or a pigeon. Then he heard the telltale rattling of the crockery, and amended it. Something small and delicate that could still kill him without too much effort.
"I don't think I can… fit," said Luther.
"I've taken bigger things," Vanya said, and the mental image made his cock twitch like a tuning fork. Vanya with her legs spread wide, slowly pushing a dildo the size of a wine bottle inside of her.
"You really do like big," Luther said. "But… it you… if you want."
"I want," Vanya said fervently. "I very much want."
"If you're absolutely sure," said Luther. "I know that… I mean…" He sighed, pressing his face into her temple, holding on to her breast and squeezing it carefully. It was soft in his hand, so small, just like the rest of her. God, he couldn’t get enough of it.
“I’m sure,” she said, and she was wriggling, out of her pajama pants. She was wet, slick and hot against his thigh. “Can you do it… while I’m on my back?”
“I’ll squash you,” said Luther. “You’re so… you’re so small.”
“If I think you’re going to squash me, I’ll use my powers,” said Vanya. “I promise. Please, I just… I…” She squirmed, clearly trying to press her thighs together. “I’ve thought about it. A lot. I’ve… I’ve been masturbating to that idea since I first started.”
“You did?” That was news. He’d never thought that she’d had any kind of crush on him, or anything like that. As far as he knew. He, admittedly, had only had eyes for Allison back in the day, but… still.
She shot him a look, and even naked and in the dark, he could read the uncomfortable line of her shoulders. “You weren’t exactly paying attention back then, were you?”
Luther kissed her. It was an impulsive, ridiculous thing to do, and not the thing to do at a time like this. They should have put on their clothes, they should have had an adult conversation abotu the nature of whatever their relationship was or wasn’t, about their respective and shared childhood traumas, about the fact that this was incest and they both had complicated, intense feeings about each other.
But he held her small face in his big hands, his lips on hers. Her tongue traced along the seam of his lips, and he remembered the sight of it along the rim of the bottle. He moaned, and her tongue slid inside of his mouth. Her jaw moved under his hand as she kissed him, and then he was… he was guiding her onto her back, and his cock was dragging against her thigh. Her legs were spread wide, wrapped around his middle, and her cunt was wet enough to soak into his t-shirt. He kicked his boxers all the way off, and then he broke the kiss, looking down at her.
“Are you… are you sure?” He licked his lips, and he was shaking. He was going to have sex. He was going to have sex while awake and sober with his sister, who was small enough that he legitimately worried about breaking her in half.
“Luther,” Vanya said, and her nails dug into his shoulders, even through the thick hair, “Luther.” She paused. “I don’t… I don’t have condoms that would fit you, but I'm on the pill.”
“I thought you’d had bigger than me,” he said, trying to keep his tone light as he pressed he wet head of his cock along the seam of her labia. He was up on his knees now, and he was doing most of this by feel. Her clit was hard against the sensitive spot right under his cock, and then he found her entrance. The muscles tried to pull him in, and he groaned like he was in pain.
The pleasure of it was almost as shocking as pain, and he gasped, and fought back the urge to shove his hips forward. Okay. Slowly. He had to be careful, so as not to hurt her, but god, she was so tight, so hot, so wet, she was squeezing him like a fist, and when he looked down at her face, it was screwed up. Her breasts heaved with every breath she took, and her small breasts were jiggling, and her feet were digging into his sides. She was curling her toes, and his cock was only halfway in her, but god, she was tight.
“You… you’re… small,” Luther said, and he felt stupid even as he said it. His hands were on her hips, squeezing them. The flesh dimpled, and he could feel the bones beneath it. “Tight. So tight.”
“If… I can… hold on.” Vanya’s hand went between her legs, and she was rubbing her clit awkwardly. Her pussy clenched around Luther, pulsing, and he frowned, nudging her hand away.
“I’ll do it,” he said, and he was rubbing her clit now. He was trying to be careful, his eyes darting down to where his cock sank into her. He could barely see it, in the dimness of her room, but the bed was creaking as he shifted.
“Luther,” Vanya said, and one of her hands was on her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between two fingers. She must like it like that, some dazed part of him thought. I need to remember that. Her other hand was going to cover her mouth, all of her sounds muffled. It was almost eerie— Luther’s heart beat in his own ears, the bed creaking even louder. He grabbed her other hand impulsively, held it in his own, and he looked at the difference. Her entire fist could fit in his palm, and when he closed his fingers around it, she gave a little sob, her eyes popping open to stare into his.
Vanya pinched her nipple, and he pressed down on her clit, a little harder. She gasped, her whole body drawing like a bowstring, and then her fist flexed inside of his, and her cunt pulsed around him like a star. He kept rubbing her clit, until she was clenching around him desperately, and then he pushed more of himself inside of her, his whole body on edge. He was looming over her like a mountain.
Luther’s orgasm crashed over him like an avalanche, and he gasped as his cock pulsed inside of her, shooting come inside of her as the pleasure at the base of his spine broke into a million little pieces, skating up and down his nerves. He held on to Vanya’s hand still, even now being careful not to break her fingers, and his other hand was clutching at her hip, his thumb digging into the divot of it. He was mindful of crushing her, and he made sure to flop over beside her, not on top of her. He still winced when his cock pulled out of her in a gush of come— she was going to need to change her sheets, or else sleep on the wet spot.
“Fuck,” she said, and her fingers wriggled in his fist. He opened his hand, expecting her to pull away, but she just pressed her palm against his. “So,” she said, “next time… how about we both try to last a little longer?”
“Next time,” said Luther, and he shivered all over. Next time, maybe he could try to do her from behind, see if he could get deeper, watch his cock sink into her inch by inch.
She was dragging his hand down, between her legs— she must have been feeling especially shameless, if she was being this blatant about it. Not that he was complaining too hard, as the tip of his finger slid into her, well lubricated by his come and her slick. She was still spread wide open and sensitive from his cock. She moaned as he slid his finger all the way in, and gasped when he curled it. “You’re so big,” she said.
“I’m glad you like it.” He didn’t like the sound of the hair on his arms rasping across her sides, but the way her pussy clenched around his fingers was almost enough of a distraction. His own come was so wet and thick inside of her, and she was moaning into his shoulder.
“I love it… I love you, Luther, I love you, I… oh, fuck, Luther, yes!” Her hips canted up to meet his gentle thrusting, and then she went utterly still, as he found a change in texture inside of her.
“Is this… are you okay?” He rubbed the spot gently, and she pulsed against him again. “I love you too,” he added, self conscious but pleased in spite of himself.
“Your finger is thicker than some of the cocks I’ve taken,” she said, her voice breathless, then; “another? Please?”
“You like it,” Luther said, and he felt stupid even as he said it, but she nodded vigorously, and full on wailed as his two fingers entered her. There was a sensation like a “pop” as his knuckles slid inside, and then he found that same spot, and he pressed with both fingers. He was clumsily rubbing her clit with his thumb as he did it— he’d read about doing that in one of Allison’s magazines, when he’d been bored one day as a teenager, and after he’d finished masturbating he’d filed the fact away for future use.
It seemed it was now the future.
She gasped, and she was clutching at his wrist. She was pinching her own nipples again, rougher this time, and the next time he’d have to do it himself. His hands were a bit too occupied right now, but he wanted to feel them in his mouth. He wanted to suck on her breasts, see how much of them he could fit in his mouth, and he pressed down a little harder on her clit and on that one spot inside of her.
Luther could feel her orgasm building, from the way she was squeezing his fingers like a fist, her toes curling against his calves. He began to rub her clit faster, and she sobbed, open mouthed, humping into his hand. He watched her face as he kept rubbing, as she got closer and closer, and then… she came.
She wailed as she came, and he heard more glass breaking. We’re going to have to put shoes on, before we go into the other room, some distant part of him thought, and then there was fluid gushing out from between his fingers, onto the bed, and she was shaking all over. She buried her face into his chest, clutching at his shirt, and she might have been crying, or sweating so hard that it was soaking into the cotton. Her hair was spread out over the pillow, and she was still shaking as she flopped back onto it, panting.
“Oh fuck,” she said, and she covered her face with both hands. “I think I squirted.”
“I didn’t know that was a thing that people could do,” Luther said, as he carefully withdrew his fingers. He gave them a sniff— musky, salty. He licked them, curious, and then caught her looking at him and blushed. “Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be,” she said, and she patted him awkwardly on the cheek. “I, uh… I do that sometimes.”
“Neat,” said Luther.
There was an awkward silence, and then Vanya started giggling. At first she was clearly trying to stifle it, but then it seemed to grow and grow, and Luther was joining in, until the both of them were lying on the damp, sweaty sheets, still laughing.
“Oh, fuck,” Vanya said, and she groaned. “I have to do laundry. And the washing machine here is still broken.”
“Well,” said Luther, “uh… you’re always free to come home to do your laundry.” He cleared his throat, self conscious. “And there’s always room for you to stay.”
She looked at him sidelong, her eyelashes casting weird shadows from the streetlight outside. “Well,” she said, in a tone he might have read as sly, “I guess it’s a good thing I’m so small, huh?”
“Hm?” He lay back, and her head rested on his chest. He was directly on top of the wet spot, and it was cold and clammy against his thigh.
“Since your bed is so small,” she said. “It’ll be a tight squeeze.”
He remembered the sensation of pushing into her, and he shivered all over again. He could almost sense her grinning against him, and he rolled his eyes, his hand going to cup the back of her head. It fit perfectly, just like he’d imagined it would. “We’ll make do,” he said, and she snuggled in closer.