(no subject)
“Are you sure?” Jessica asked menacingly, devouring her alter with but a calculating look.
She feels like silk, Niki thinks, whispering, “Of course not,” and feeling quite mad.
A shark-toothed grin breaks out across her doppelganger’s lean face outside of the looking glass. Niki shudders and tries to look away, but something pulls at her cheeks, forces her to see.
“Niki,” she spits out. “Don’t be a spoil-sport now. Play with me.” Jessica begins to languidly undress with practiced ease, her eyes focused on Niki’s all the while. Niki’s eyes flicker over the familiar flesh and her ego is reminded of a sepulchred rabbit.
When her flowery skirt, that Niki isn’t sure she will ever be able to wear again without thoughts of this moment, drops to the floor, she shivers. Jessica and herself are wearing nothing but skin, staring at one another through the mirrored wall.
Jessica’s sinewy fingers skim along the body, beginning at the thigh and dragging her nails upward and across the breasts. Feeling the ghost-like pressure dotting her flesh, Niki’s mind flashes on her.
Shut up about that, Jessica snaps, pinching a nipple, grin curling-distorting-as Niki cries out. The housewife balls her hands into fists at her sides, even as Jessica wakes up every inch of her with torturing, strategically-placed touches.
Those pale hands slip down to the waist, one tracing patterns up and down the abdomen while the other continues its journey. Jessica pops three fingers inside of herself with a slick sound, her head lolling back, eyes dimming. Her hips roll forward and the digits go deeper, eliciting a scream from the woman on the other side of the mirror.
Jessica moves the delicate hand from the stomach to scratch and dig its way up to the neck, where her nails bite; drawing blood. Her insanity-inducing rhythm increases, and she adds another finger when she can feel Niki’s discomfort.
“S-Stop,” Niki gasps out around muffled cries of imminent crescendo. This pleases Jessica and she quickens her movements with redoubled effort, fingers dancing over white, leaving red in their wake. Inside the body, she crooks her middle finger to brush against Niki’s button, her whole body quivering, teeming with the need for blessed release.
Niki’s hip buck of their own accord and she stuffs her fist in her mouth to quash the pleas that spring to her lips; they seem to rub against her throat as they beg and fight for the air to be spoken. She closes her eyes, letting sensation wash over her, the hurtpleasurepain combining to create an incredible feeling that tugs at her chest and makes her hyperconscious of the bloody liquid dribbling down her leg.
In that moment, she thinks of Claire, and the sun explodes behind her eyes. Claire and her sunflower hair, Claire and her sunshine smiles, Claire and her sunset eyes; all of it builds within Niki, tearing her apart and mending her again, not unlike the young girl’s terriblewonderful gift.
The body tenses, climaxes at the mere mention of the girl; Jessica and Niki’s cries become one.