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Ryoshu’s pattern of arousal is already very familiar to Don Quixote.
It starts with a touch.
Despite the distant character she appears to be, Ryoshu will signal her interest through physical touch. A hand on the shoulder, a brush across the other, various forms of closeness are all possible if Ryoshu cares to stand close to her.
Then a gaze.
Most of the time, Ryoshu chooses to stand fuck wherever. She’s an observer more than a pursuer, after all. Don Quixote can always feel a burning gaze that seems to slice through her buttock to the top of her head. A lazy wasp of smoke emanating from her cigarette matches the cold, calculating glare that seeks to analyze every little detail on her body clad in that grey uniform.
And when Quixote turns to look back at her, she doesn’t even look away. Just continuing to make eye contact until the blonde turns her head away in embarrassment.
It’s humiliating to be stared at and scrutinized like that. Quixote is a woman who cannot look at herself in the mirror. The fragments of her past, as Sancho, merge with her current self in a discordant mist that she can’t bear to even face.
Then, the most obvious sign. Ryoshu approaches her after the Manager Esquire calls it a night, and aggressively drags her to her room. No matter how much she struggles and whines, Ryoshu refuses to let go. And Don Quixote doesn’t object. If she had, Ryoshu would gently release her and let her walk free. But like almost every time this happens, she just wants to please and let things go her way.
So she sits in absolute shock on Ryoshu’s bed when the chain smoking woman pulls out a tablet.
Dante’s tablet.
“Y-young Ryoshu,” she begins. “Why dost thou have the Manager Esquire’s tablet in hand? How did you–”
“Hm. You know why.”
Don Quixote's blood runs cold as she remembers the strange scenario that had unfolded just a few days earlier.
The Manager's tablet had seemingly malfunctioned. Young Faust had always claimed that the identities should only overlap with the sinner that already exists. However, young Sinclair, who had the Dawn Office Fixer identity wrapped over his own, had been scared silly by the sudden appearance of his N Corp identity as a separate entity, one that reminded him terribly of the past atrocities in his life.
Manager Esquire had apologized profusely after Sinclair finally calmed down and the other Sinclair had been disposed of, stating that they had accidentally pressed a button or two, and Faust chose to ignore the incident in hopes that they’d be more careful next time.
In many ways, it was a strange oversight on her part. Don Quixotes would’ve assumed that she would do something about it, but she remained silent.
And now, that tablet is in Ryoshu’s hands.
“I don’t get it, my lady,” she speaks rather quietly. “What could this tablet do for us when thou art insistent on… explicit activities?”
“I’m not going to do anything this time.” Ryoshu replies, before pulling up a chair facing the bed and sitting down on it.
“You’ll be doing A.T.W. (All The Work)”
“H-huh?” Quixote tenses up in fear. Ryoshu always had some sadistic plans for her, but this time, it was hard to deduce what exactly it could be. Would she use the tablet to summon multiple versions of her to compete with them? The thought sparks a pang of jealousy within her.
“There’s gonna be several versions of you. And you’re going to T.Y.O.S. (Touch Your Other Self) while I watch.”
A shiver runs down Don Quixote’s spine. To be intimate with herself is… terrifying. How could she even look at herself?
“My lady, can’t I just please myself in front of thee? Thou wouldst enjoy that, right?”
“Nah,” Ryoshu smirks. “Can’t see your own face when you do that. I want you to look at yourself.”
She stands up to stare down Quixote’s terrified eyes, the tablet gleaming in her peripheral sight.
“It’d be F.A.H. (Fun As Hell), dontcha think? Having to watch yourself M.O.L.D. (Moan Obscenely Loudly, Destroying) your other self until you’re both nothing but goop on the ground, heh.”
Don Quixote swallows and avoids her gaze.
It’d be so terrifying to look herself in the eye. It’s easy to dodge the gaze staring back at her in the mirror, but those mirrored identities would stare her down whether she wanted to run away or not. Her body already felt so distant even as Ryoshu’s warm body lay near her all those nights together, so seeing another Her, it felt so…
“So?” Ryoshu interrupts her thoughts. “Safe word?”
Despite it all, Don Quixote wants nothing more but to please. To play the role of the noble knight that faces any conflict with bravery and wit, it’s important to please the lady you love. Quixote hates to admit it, but she loves the control that Ryoshu has over her. Despite her being a powerful swordswoman, the blonde is far stronger. And yet, she still gets on her knees like a pathetic dog whenever Ryoshu commands her to. Accept, submit, and obey. That is what she has to do.
“Will you guide me, at least?” She murmurs, her voice tiny. Sancho’s usual speech pattern slips through the cracks of her character, and Ryoshu’s smirk widens.
“...Sure. safe word, now.”
Ryoshu will always try to poke and prod at her until she breaks. Even the smallest fracture in her character would be lapped up by that trigger happy woman. Don Quixote stays silent for a while before finally responding.
“…Don’t rush me.”
—
It had been agreed upon that Ryoshu would only summon one of her mirror selves, thank the Wings for the poor woman’s soul.
This world's Don Quixote, the LCB Sinner, shifts nervously on the other woman’s bed as she watches her press random buttons. Does Ryoshu even know how to use this thing? She stares harder, trying to guess what she could possibly be doing, before letting out a squeak as a figure manifests in front of her.
An identity that exists outside of overlapping a sinner… is rather strange. The figure took time to become more detailed before she realized who it was. The her that worked at District 23.
She’s seen better days. Apart from the strange translucency that made her appear like a hologram, she looks almost exactly like her. Save for a few things.
Matted dirty hair frames the woman’s face. Her eyes are weighed down by heavy eye bags and redness, where one could assume she had never dried her tears properly. Dull, lifeless amber eyes stare back at this world's Don Quixote. Her uniform is shiny and well kept, but Quixote can notice the dried outlines of previous bloodstains that must’ve dried too quickly to completely wash off.
This version of herself just looks absolutely miserable. Don Quixote’s heart sinks as she stares down those sad, hopeless eyes. It’s a downer to see herself at such a low point of her life. Perhaps one that doesn’t exist in this reality, but somewhere out there, she could’ve easily been subjected to this fate. One where her passion and fervor had completely vanished.
Without waiting for Ryoshu’s command, the first thing she does is pull the awkwardly standing W corp agent into a hug.
The other self stiffens for a second, before completely melting into her arms. Her body is so warm compared to the metallic cold of her armored uniform. She can hear the other Quixote begin to cry, her tears staining the cuff of Quixote’s LCB jacket. She knows exactly what this woman had been through.
A corporation that tortures its passengers to produce energy, purposely letting them slowly go insane, yet unable to relieve themselves of this suffering. She remembers the excited naivety in this Quixote’s eyes, how excited she was to work for a Wing. How excited she was to serve justice.
Just for that to be washed away by the cries of those mangled passengers, their throats severed and destroyed to the point where they could only gurgle with whatever was left of a vocal cord. Life clung onto them, as much as they tried to cut it off and escape that hell. The sight of humans trying so desperately to die, yet never being able to… The W Corp Don Quixote had no time to even process this sight before being forced to fight against them. Innocent passengers who just wanted to travel. Foolish Quixote. When something is too good to be true, it most likely isn’t as nice as she’d expect.
Ryoshu allows them to embrace each other for a while before speaking up.
“Well? You know why you came here, W.G (Warp Girl).”
The agent turns her head to stare at Ryoshu blankly.
“Will it truly make things easier?”
Ryoshu’s eyes glimmer with amusement.
“Depends. Well, L.C. D.Q.? Gonna sit around and do nothing?”
The hairs on the back of Quixote’s neck shoot up as she scrambles to untangle herself from her other self.
“Milady, I thought thou wouldst guide me?”
“Nah. Changed my mind.” Ryoshu flashes an infuriating grin.
Don Quixote fumes up in irritation before lowering her face, attempting to calm herself. This vile temptress of a woman, always leading her into some ridiculous situation!
“What? Are you S.O.B (Such A Bottom) that you’d let this M.T. (Miserable Thing) take over?” Ryoshu stands up with a stupid little “Heh” before ruffling the W Corp mirror self’s hair. Quixote bristles; watching the other blonde flush as her head is tossed around like a rag.
“Th—You usually guide me! I—”
“Words are often obtuse and unnecessary. Can’t you F.A.F.(Feel And Figure) her out? You’ll know if she likes it.” W Corp Don Quixote, who is still getting her head fondled like a stress ball, shifts around nervously.
To be a knight is to service not others, but also oneself. A knight cannot fight for the one she loves if she herself has lost her way. She thinks to how many nights her mirror self had to spend isolated, alone, and hopeless. How many nights she craved the warmth of something, anything. It was so deeply unfair that in a different timeline, she has to suffer like this, all alone. So with her as the noble knight that the W Corp agent cannot be, she must…
Don Quixote, still sitting on the bed this whole time, gently takes the agent's hand and eases her to sit on the bed with her. Her hands are calloused as expected, the tough skin on both of their hands rubbing against each other ever so slowly. But the other woman’s hands shake ever so slightly, with a tiny twitch here and there that Quixote tries to steady with her own. She must have long worn out her hands, clutching those daggers for dear life as she slashed away endlessly.
“Uh,” She furrows her brow, trying to decide if she should keep up the chivalrous speech, “W-will you undress for me?”
It’d be kind of cheesy to speak to herself like that. Might as well drop it.
W Corp Don Quixote remains silent, before turning her head away in embarrassment. Right. A person who had to toughen up so rapidly would never shed themselves so easily.
She gently reaches out her arms and begins to fumble awkwardly with the uniform. How the hell do these uniforms come off?
“You’ll have to raise your arms up for this.” Her mirror self nods and raises her arms up. In a situation like this, Ryoshu would usually find it cute. It’s hard for her to feel the same towards herself, though. She sneaks a look at the swordswoman, who is silently watching with no readable expression.
She slowly unclips and takes off the bulky armor (with some grunts coming from the agent; the armor is rough), then the navy collared shirt and slacks, tossing the belt to the side along the way, and finally, her black sports bra and boxers. It makes sense that she’d wear similar undergarments in every universe. Her choices are efficient, after all.
W Corp Don Quixote’s body is not much different from hers. The same toned muscles on her abdomen. The same blonde peach fuzz that decorates her limbs and chest that pools into clumps at her armpits and crotch. The same happy trail sneaking up to her navel that Ryoshu likes to rub (to her embarrassment), but she’s noticeably leaner. It seems she really has a lot of tough muscle for her job, but has she been eating well? LCB Quixote’s face drops as she feels along the other woman’s waist. It can’t be easy to keep up an appetite in that environment.
The agent’s breathing hitches as Quixote continues to feel her up. By instinct perhaps, and she silently chastises herself for the perversion, her hands move up to cup the other Quixote’s breasts. She can immediately feel her chest moving up and down more rapidly, the other woman staring at her with bated breaths.
Quixote quickly removes her hands, shaking a little.
“S-sorry…” she whispers. Ryoshu makes a displeased grunt in the chair behind her, leaning her chin on her propped up hand.
“B.A.H. (Boring As Hell) if you’re so uncertain. You know your own spots best. Get to it.”
Don Quixote hesitates, before cupping her hands around those breasts again. Like she expected, the soft tissue feels exactly like the ones on her own chest. Not too big, not too small. Her pinkish-brown nipples stand erect in the cool air of Ryoshu's room as the agent covers her eyes with her arms, whimpering.
Right. She tends to make a lot of noise. Being rather sensitive to touch, Ryoshu's always able to tease some kind of groan, whimper, or moan out of her. It's absolutely humiliating, and having to watch herself make that noise...
She freezes up again.
This time, the swordswoman doesn't speak up. Her red eyes feel like they're searing holes into Quixote's back.
Just pretend you're touching yourself... masturbating... She tells herself, before closing her eyes, taking a big deep breath, and going in for a kiss.
It's not every day that you have to wrestle lips with yourself.
The W Corp Quixote's lips are cracked, and brushing against them with her own feels like passing through a bumpy road, but she kisses so sweetly. So gently, so timidly, that LCB Quixote finds the urge to be bolder and sucks on her lower lip. She whines softly and begins to squirm under LCB Quixote's weight.
She quickly pins the agent's arms above her head as she kisses her deeper, pushing her body into the soft sheets. Her mind feels fuzzier the more she kisses her other self. This mirror world Quixote is so needy. Her lips cling onto hers as if holding onto something dear. She never wants to break the kiss, whining if LCB Quixote dares to pull away.
Quixote can handle this. The fear of seeing herself in such a vulnerable position is washed away by just closing her eyes and hearing her mirror self squirm around and whimper. She grabs the other Quixote’s waist and clutches it harder as they kiss deeper.
A knight must do her best to take care of herself.
She sneaks a hand down to the other blonde’s thighs, slowly gliding it towards her crotch, where she could feel W Corp Quixote’s fluffy pubes. They feel silky smooth; the agent must shower often. Parting aside the soft hairs, she starts to gently rub circles around the clit.
The woman beneath her immediately lets out a soft moan before Quixote shuts her up with a deeper kiss. Perhaps she did it because it was embarrassing to hear herself. Quixote attempts to clear her mind and continues to work her fingers.
She knows that she tends to come quickly. Therefore, Ryoshu usually puts her through multiple orgasms that leave her overstimulated and in distress. To her absolute disgust, she enjoys that so many frequent orgasms at once renders her basically unable to think; like putty being molded by the swordswoman as she then pulls her in for a post-coital hug.
The pace of her fingers speed up. Feeling the woman under her squirm harder and whimper endlessly ignites a primal fire within her. The passionate urge that arises in the midst of arousal begging to be satiated pushes her to insert her middle and ring finger into Warp Quixote’s cunt, drawing out a loud squeak from the poor squirming mess.
A displeasured noise comes from Ryoshu’s direction which almost makes LCB Quixote stop moving her fingers. Her rhythm accidently spikes, getting a pleasured whine out of Warp Quixote. Her eyes still pressed shut, she turns her head up to face her.
“What ails thee, my lady?”
“Open your eyes.” Ryoshu snaps. “You’re getting off too easy. Look at her while you do your shit.”
Fuck. That is the whole point of this, isn’t it? A shiver runs down her spine. Having to see herself in such a vulnerable state, her face contorted into an expression of unrestrained pleasure, it feels disgusting. It’s embarrassing enough having Ryoshu poke and prod at her until she's a blubbering mess, but being able to disassociate from what she looked like is what made it work for her.
“…” She continues pumping her fingers in and out of the other woman’s hole.
Ryoshu knows that she can’t face her own vulnerability. Ryoshu knows that the sheer humiliation alone practically bars her from opening her eyes.
But a knight must always traverse the hardest terrain to satisfy her Lady! A knight must persevere throughout the toughest of trials, through the most difficult circumstances, if it means seeing that happy smile — or, uh, that sinister smirk on her lovely face, then Quixote shall do whatever it takes to give her what she wants!
Her stupid knightly demeanor battles with her barely remaining sense of dignity. Yes, the look of satisfaction on her lady Ryoshu’s face would be positively riveting…
Then fine.
Don Quixote takes a deep breath and opens her eyes.
She lays sprawled out underneath herself. Her eyes are closed in a peaceful expression with her mouth slightly hanging open. The rhythmic motion of being thrusted into has her moving ever so slightly, her breasts slightly rolling up and down. Tiny moans trickle out of her lips as she grips the sheets below her, her thin arms tensed up.
What a pent up girl. Her breathing quickens as she fights to keep her eyes open. Being caged up in such an inhumane working environment for an extended period of time must’ve done a number on her. When was the last time she truly felt pleasure like this?
A knight must seek to serve the best interest for her lady, and by proxy, do what’s best for herself. How else does she best serve her if not do just that? She’s lucky her lady cares for her, however twisted and sadistic this care is.
Don Quixote sighs and quickens her pace. She needs to let go. She knows what she has to do now.
A knight such as her must now tend to the her that is struggling, the her that desperately seeks the warmth of another in a time of loneliness and gloom.
The heat builds up in her sex as she focuses her gaze on herself, every twitch, every change in her behavior, as she watches herself gallop onto the edge. The whimpers, the sweet sounds coming out of herself blend together as she focuses purely on tipping herself over the edge.
The her beneath her doesn’t react strongly when she finally climaxes, with just a bit of a stronger twitch to her squirming body. But as she calms down, Don Quixote takes a few deep breaths, steadying her breathing. She did it.
She gets off of herself, focusing purely on the breathing of her other self as it slowly becomes less and less frequent. Ryoshu says nothing.
—
The second her mirror self returned to her own world with a somber look — a look just as depressed as before, but perhaps a little less hopeless — Don Quixote turns to Ryoshu and rushes to hug her. Ryoshu doesn’t resist.
“My lady, didst thou enjoy that? Did I do a good job?”
“Hm. Sure.”
Don Quixote’s face is pressed against her chest, listening to her heartbeat that’s a little quicker than usual, and smiles as she hears the smirk in her lady’s voice.
Facing herself wasn’t easy. Seeing herself this unrestrained was overwhelming, so she focused on her body language in order to disassociate properly. She still has a long way to go to being able to fully face her vulnerabilities like that. But she did a good job. Ryoshu thinks so, she thinks.
The chain smoking woman pulls out a cigarette instead of embracing her back. Typical. She just clutches her tighter.
Despite everything, she enjoyed this.
“My lady?”
“Yes?”
“How wilt thou return the Manager Esquire’s tablet? They had to have noticed it gone by now.”
“That’s tomorrow’s problem.”