The Fun has been Doubled!
Dragon Age 2
Characters: Isabela
Relationship: Selfcest, Isabela/Isabela, mentions of Isabela/Lady Hawke
Rating: M for suggestive content. Sorry, nothing too explicit.
Word Count: 961
Not much in Isabela's life could be called perfect. From her failure of an arranged marriage, the rubbish with Castion and the Quinari, and the spectacular loss of her faithful ship and loyal crew, the painful twists and turns of her adult life were far from the dreams she imagined during her childhood
But here, in her cheaply rented room of the Hanged Man, she had the only being in the entire world that would fit her version of the word 'perfect'. Herself.
The doppelganger smiled wickedly from her perch on the bed, white tunic half undone -and wow, she had fantastic breasts, Isabela had to admit, she had always seen them from above or caught the flat reflection of them in mirrors, but to be on the other side of them, to see their fullness straining at the last bits of restrain from that tight binding… damn, she suddenly found that she could forgive every member of Hawke's crazy group for staring her boobs more than her face, she was having a hard time looking anywhere but duplicate's chest too.
"Well, Sweet Self?" doppelganger Isabela crooned, picking at the tunic strands, gold eyes half lidded. "Don't you think there are more interesting things I could be doing instead of leering at me?"
Oh she was good. Very, very good.
Good enough to banish the last of the panicked and confused thoughts from Isabela's mind and draw her, step by step, to the bed. The gnawing fears of how the Mirror in that creepy shop had done this, and why, slipping from her forebrain.
"This should be fun," the copy grinned seductively as she hesitantly stopped just before the bed, looking down at herself. One had reached up to trace burring lines along the path of the gold lined sash at her hips. "I have to say, I love the outfit change, any particular occasion for it?" those long fingers traced lines on Isabela's black corset, the mirror eyes studying the red band around her arm, the new pauldron.
'Hawke' the single name sprung instantly to mind, and realization dawned a split second later.
This wasn't a perfect replica, she wore Isabela's old outfit, from before Hawke, before the whole Quinari debacle, and she was younger too, Isabela could see it in her eyes, clear and wild, unburdened by responsibility and guilt, untended by love…
"No reason." She replied too quickly, not moving in the slightest, pointedly not touching that red band on her bicep.
Doppelganger raised a brow and leaned back on the bed. "So what's the problem then? You seems rather… nervous?" one quick hand shot out and snagged her sash, and she was tugged so close that she was forced to straddle one of doppelganger's leather bound legs. " The way I see it, we've got maybe three hours before Varric drags Anders up from his hovel clinic in order to 'examine' me," was it weird to be turned on by the purr in her own voice? "so I say we should make the best of the time we have before I get branded a Lust demon or something."
Isabela's breath hitched, her own talented fingers playing along the hem of her tunic, her own golden eyes staring hungrily up at her, demanding, watchful, asking 'Why not?'.
She was running out of reasons why not, but still she hesitated.
Doppelganger looked unimpressed her hands releasing Isabela's hips, "Well, I don't seem like me at all. Are we certain I came from the mirror and not you? Because honestly," she licked her lips "I seem to recall always wondering what it would be like to have a bed mate who knew all my little pleasure points, all my little likes and dislikes, every corner of my body that would have me writhing in pure bliss, and who would expect nothing afterwards. Someone I could return to for fun again and again and never have to worry about those sticky feelings of attachment or affection," she tipped her head sideways. "Really, seems like I'd be perfect for me, and here we are." She gestured to the room at large "yet you don't seem all that thrilled, or even interested. So tell me, Captain Isabela," and there was that low purr again, "Which one of us is really the copy? Because you don't seem like any Isabela I remember, you've changed-"
Isabela cut the sentence off with a bruising kiss, tangling her fingers in doppelganger's hair.
She could feel the smile of the other as their tongues battled for dominance, their hands grabbing and pawing at one another; deft fingers undoing ties with practiced ease, yanking clothes off and tossing them carelessly to the floor.
And it was perfect, a fierce battle for control that ended without any true top, instead they fell into a rapid rhythm that brought them to the edge of pleasure again and again, each forcing the other to plunge into screaming, writhing messes of wanton abandon.
It was easy and flawless, fingers slipping into and against just the right spots, lips and teeth taking and tasting those little elusive areas that no other lover could find, after all, who knew her better than herself?
Changed indeed.
In a brief second between their bouts, both of them panting and covered in fine layers of hard earned sweat, she felt herself worry about Hawke's reaction, what this strange little tryst would do to their fragile budding… relationship, thing.
Then the other's tongue was back in her mouth and their breasts were mashed tight together. Rubbing in delightful little ways that sent sparks up her spine.
Hawke would forgive her; she dismissed, reaching down to clasp that delicious ass. After all, it wasn't cheating if she was making love to herself.
AN: This started in my brain as a short, humor filled crack.
That quickly turned emotional and soul search-y, Isabela tends to do that to me, she's just got so much depth to play with…
So, yea, Day one: Prompt, Selfcest. Thanks Anon!
Keep 'em coming please. :)