Isabelle Lightwood (
seveninchmotto) wrote2017-04-01 03:03 pm
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From Alicante to The Apartment, New York, Saturday
This morning, in her bed at her father's house in Alicante, Isabelle had woken up to feeling uncomfortable. It hadn't taken her long to realize why. Overnight, she'd become –– well, the wrong shape for pretty much everything she'd been wearing to sleep in. So, right, they were doing this again. She would've assumed Fandom's magic couldn't work through the wards around Idris, but apparently she'd thought wrong. And it'd be complicated to look like Alec here of all places.
Ugh.
So, she'd gotten out of bed with a groan, then gone to the closet to search for clothes that'd even remotely fit her. And that was when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
And immediately went in for a closer look because well hello. She did not look like Alec this time. And that changed everything.
So long story short: she sent a fire message to Flick (Had to go to NY, come if you can, because she'd previously told him she'd stay in Alicante this weekend) and then listen closely until she was sure her father wasn't in the house, before sneaking into his quarters and snagging an old set of gear to wear. Then she scribbled her father a little note as well, about how Jace had asked her to come back to the city.
Fast forward, and she was home in New York. Having far too much fun going through Flick's closet space and modeling things in front of the mirrors. And if some of the modeling was sans clothes, well, could you blame her? She deserved her fun, dammit.
And her phone was filling up with pictures.
Also once Flick would hopefully make it out of Idris and his phone would start working, he was going to find several photos on there as well. Maybe he'd enjoy an unknown but attractive young man's (clothed!) selfies coming from Isabelle's number? In fact, maybe he'd even put two and two together and note the Marks and how the backgrounds looked suspiciously like their bedroom in the city. He was a smart boy, he could figure it out.
[ooc: NFB, primarily for That Guy, but can be open for calls/texts as well!]
Ugh.
So, she'd gotten out of bed with a groan, then gone to the closet to search for clothes that'd even remotely fit her. And that was when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
And immediately went in for a closer look because well hello. She did not look like Alec this time. And that changed everything.
So long story short: she sent a fire message to Flick (Had to go to NY, come if you can, because she'd previously told him she'd stay in Alicante this weekend) and then listen closely until she was sure her father wasn't in the house, before sneaking into his quarters and snagging an old set of gear to wear. Then she scribbled her father a little note as well, about how Jace had asked her to come back to the city.
Fast forward, and she was home in New York. Having far too much fun going through Flick's closet space and modeling things in front of the mirrors. And if some of the modeling was sans clothes, well, could you blame her? She deserved her fun, dammit.
And her phone was filling up with pictures.
Also once Flick would hopefully make it out of Idris and his phone would start working, he was going to find several photos on there as well. Maybe he'd enjoy an unknown but attractive young man's (clothed!) selfies coming from Isabelle's number? In fact, maybe he'd even put two and two together and note the Marks and how the backgrounds looked suspiciously like their bedroom in the city. He was a smart boy, he could figure it out.
[ooc: NFB, primarily for That Guy, but can be open for calls/texts as well!]
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"That's new."
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She smirked at him, realizing she had a chance to say something that she never usually did.
"Play with my balls, baby."
... Yeah she didn't manage saying that without bursting out laughing right after.
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"Sorry." She wasn't sorry. "I just had to say it!"
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Of course she'd say that. Of course. But she wasn't wrong, either. It wasn't as if she was huge, or anything, but... nicely proportionate to the size of her current body.
She bit her lip, watching him. Watching her. "I'm trying very hard not to quip about dessert," she informed him. Then, after a beat, "Or about how I just said anything about trying hard."
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Less so at arguing when his hand was on her and you know, even with the lightness of his touch, the lack of a fabric made a whole lot of difference.
She inhaled a deep breath.
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He knew the answer to that one.
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She was really pretty hard in his hand.
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She was once more watching raptly, trying to wrap her mind around what she was seeing.
And feeling.
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Then she reached out and tried to run her fingers through his hair. It would've been pretty sweet had she not said, "I'll tell you when to stop."
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"Message received," he said and lowered his mouth back down, taking more of Isabelle into his mouth now, sucking sharply.
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And then his mouth was on her cock again, and more this time, and then that was the best thing Isabelle had seen all day.
She kept her hand in his hair, for now. Not really doing much except involuntary twitches of her fingers when she gave a hiss at the sharper sucking. She had to wonder how long she would last, with her lack of practice.
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He slid his mouth further down, taking more and more of her into his mouth before pausing and holding her there. The only part of him that moved was his tongue, swirling and stroking while he kept her in his mouth.
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