Rating: M: L,S
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. I make no profit. I mean no infringement.
A/N: Maybe this is a little wrong (I don’t really seem to care though). In this fic, Niki hasn’t figured out who her alter ego is yet.
“Don’t do that.”
The words were a purred command, snapping Niki out of a haze of distracted blankness.
Glaring up at the image smirking back at her in the mirror, Niki snarled, “Don’t do what?”
“That,” the image enunciated sharply, her own fingers working to undo the buttons on the fitted black button-down Niki was simultaneously buttoning. “Come on, now. You used to do this for a living. Take it off.” She winked flirtatiously. “Slowly. I want to get my money’s worth.”
Niki wasn’t sure whether she should be angry or amused, so she scoffed, “What money?”
“I got you that car, didn’t I?” the image asked, eyes widening in a pantomime of innocence. “I make your life easier. I do all the hard work, all the heavy lifting. I’m the one getting my hands dirty taking care of all of the problems in your life. You could stand to give me a little something in return.”
If Niki could have seen another version of her reflection, one that was her and not not-her, she would have witnessed abject shock. “Tell me you’re not trying to coerce me into performing for you,” she said in disbelief.
“Oh, I want more than that,” the image replied, smirk turning lascivious. “I’m not some freak on the other side of a computer screen halfway around the world paying you $39.95 for the privilege of watching you fake it.”
Shock turned into irritated disbelief. “No, you’re just the hallucination in my mirror propositioning me.”
Eyes sweeping a hot path over her skin drew Niki’s attention, and she discovered, much to her disbelief, that she was naked.
“Oh, no,” she said angrily, shaking her head emphatically. “You do not get to…”
“I get to do whatever I want. But, don’t worry… you want it too.”
She couldn’t have said what force propelled her backwards, but in the span of a second, Niki found herself bouncing roughly against the mattress of her bed, palms pressing into the spongy material as she struggled to keep herself upright.
She was crazy. She knew she was crazy.
There was no other way to explain the sensation of bare skin sliding against her own as her mirror image slinked across the bed to hover over her. There was no other way to explain the indentations in the mattress where the apparition’s hands and knees pressed into the material, supporting her non-existent weight.
Niki whimpered something that might have been a no, but it died halfway up her throat. Her other self’s lips were on her own, rough and demanding, and the fingers of one hand were buried in Niki’s hair in a tight fist that nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Where were her hands, Niki wondered? Was one in her own hair? Was that her other one, drifting slowly across her belly and up to cup her own breast? And those lips, the ones that had managed to pry hers apart, what were they? A sensory hallucination? Misfiring neurons tricking her into thinking that she could actually feel it?
“No,” she said on a gasp, pulling her head away. “You’re not real.”
The hand in her hair became the hand on her throat before Niki had time to register the shift. She felt the power in those fingers, felt the way they dug into her neck with enough force to leave dark, ugly bruises. Enough force to kill. “Niki,” the image said, frowning, clearly disappointed, “after all we’ve been through together, why do you persist in this denial?”
“It’s not denial,” Niki said vehemently, taking quick, harsh breaths. She could feel the edges of her vision start to blacken and scrabbled desperately to hold onto consciousness. “And even if you are real, you can’t honestly believe that you can fuck me. That I, essentially, can fuck myself.”
The mirror image laughed, fingers easing enough to allow Niki to take in a much needed gulp of oxygen. “Literally or metaphorically, people do it all the time, honey.”
Rearing up so that she was resting on Niki’s upper thighs, blonde hair streaming wildly around her shoulders and eyes narrowed in a mixture of aggression and seduction, she chuckled. “I should have done this a long time ago, but you weren’t ready then.”
Niki didn’t want to ask what it was she should have done a long time ago. She didn’t need to, really, when there were sharp nails trailing from the tops of her shoulders and over her breasts to dig into her hips.
Teeth against her nipple drew a whimper, stuck halfway between pain and pleasure.
“It only seems real,” Niki whispered inside her mind, unable to stifle a gasp at the feel of the rough velvet of her mirror image’s tongue dragging a long, slow path between her legs. And it only felt real, too, when she wound her fingers through familiar long, silky blonde hair and pulled hard. And when she did that, it only sounded real when she heard a moan of absolute pleasure just a shade deeper than the one that vibrated through her own throat as teeth bit down gently in response. And beyond that, it only looked real when a sudden, hard suction brought about an automatic contraction of ab muscles that left her in a half curl, looking down at her own eyes looking back up at her.
“No, it’s all real, baby girl.”
She could not – could not could not could not – taste herself on the mirror image’s lips when she kissed her.
“Christ,” she hissed, hips bucking up as fingers pressed deep inside of her. She could feel the strength in the arm attached to them, compelling her to the verge of oblivion with their relentless, driving rhythm. Despite the way she clung stubbornly to the belief that all of this had been engineered by her own sick and fragmented mind, she could feel the wiry cording of lean muscle beneath her fingers as she dug her nails into the mirror image’s back.
“That’s it,” the image grinned, teeth flashing viciously. “I’ll protect you. You can let go. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
The top of Niki’s head was digging into the pillow, the arched column of her neck stretched severely as she searched for the relief she instinctively knew was tantalizingly close. Her mouth opened on a soundless scream, eyes open but unseeing, as her heels dug into the bedding and her thighs quivered. She could feel the slick of sweat on her skin, cool droplets sliding between her breasts as her abdominal muscles contracted so tightly she could feel the ache radiate throughout her torso.
“Just let it go, Niki,” the image cajoled, voice soft, almost teasing. “Let it all go.”
And Niki did, fingers digging roughly into the mirror image’s hair as she pulled her head down, bringing their lips together in a kiss so fierce that it drew a hint of blood. She nipped savagely at the image’s lower lip, drug her teeth over her chin.
When it passed, she collapsed into the bedding, exhausted and boneless.
“I don’t know why you worry.” The words were whisper-soft, loving, accompanied by a caress against her cheek that was as soft as a gust of wind. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’m going to take care of you. I always take care of you. No one will hurt you. No one will hurt Micah. I won’t allow it.”
Niki turned her head lazily, staring at the image for a long moment before she was able to focus. “No,” she said, though this time the averment was an agreement.
The hand on her forehead was gentle, pushing back sweat soaked hair. Niki didn’t even pretend like she didn’t feel the soft kiss the mirror image placed on her brow. “I love you,” the image said, the serious set of her jaw giving the words weight.
Niki echoed them without thinking. “I love you, too.”
The next kiss landed on her lips, a barely there brush full of unspoken emotion. “Don’t fight me next time. I only want to make us feel good. I only want to bring us closer.”
Nodding dully, Niki closed her eyes. The lethargy of release was heavy in her blood, pulsing out through limbs that were stubbornly uncooperative. “No more fighting,” she promised, words slurring sleepily.
When she opened her eyes, she was alone.