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Minho’s eyes closed just briefly as he leant himself backwards so that Jisung could watch, the hand delving into his waistband and moving around under his pants, a sordid gasp escaping his lips. At first he played it coy, just small movements and little touches, his little kitty ears doing something unspeakable to Jisung that he couldn’t even understand.
His dick understood, though. His dick understood exactly what Minho wanted from him.
“You’re… In a mirror and you’re… This isn’t real,” Jisung denied, shaking his head, darting around again, willing the sordid images to leave his psyche. “This isn’t real, it isn’t right. It’s…”
He felt himself teetering on the edge of insanity.
“I’m touching myself. Don’t you want to do the same? You have so much pent-up frustration Jisung. I can sense it,” Minho whispered enticingly, sounding closer than before, despite it being impossible.
Jisung felt his dick twitch again at how sultry Minho’s voice had become. He was hard. He was hard over a total stranger inside of a wall-length mirror. He couldn’t deny it. If he turned around now, Minho would know.
Maybe he already did.
“Did I appear to you because you were upset, Jisung? Or because you wanted someone in here with you? Maybe because you knew that your friends were off screwing people and you weren’t?” Minho chuckled to himself under his breath, interspersed with little gasps.
“I—They can do whatever they want, it’s got nothing to do with me,” Jisung replied. He threw his arms around himself, trying to bring himself back to reality. “People touching me... It’s different for me, I guess.”
“It has everything to do with you, Jisung. You deserve it. I know you ache for it. You crave the feelings too, don’t you? Just… Please? Touch yourself too, give me something to work with. I want to see you feeling good.”
Jisung froze in place, looking back towards the door that was keeping the rest of the world at bay, biting his lip so hard it could break. His nervous energy was getting the better of him, the vision of Minho standing behind, waiting for him, doing whatever it was he was doing.
He could have just sprinted out, but it was like he was paralysed in place. He wanted to turn around and take in the view behind him, but he was scared.
It made no sense. This man wasn’t real, but he was an amalgamation of Jisung’s wettest fantasies. He was his age, attractive, built, caring and cute with a devious side. He was a vision created solely of everything Jisung wanted in the partner he’d desperately rejected the idea of wanting.
How else could someone so perfect appear before him?
Men like this, simply didn’t exist.
In a sense, having Minho being a figment of his imagination brought him some semblance of relief. No one would see him here, no one could talk about it Monday in class. No one would know that he was locked up here with the ghost of a dead guy. Only he had to know.
He had a picture in his mind to get himself off to. He was pent-up and aching and dying to know what it felt like to be with someone else, even if that person wasn’t even on the same physical plane as him.
He started touching himself as instructed, arduously sliding his own hand into the top of his pants and boxer briefs too, letting his eyes flutter closed.
He rubbed down over his shaft, then just gently over his tip, feeling the stickiness. A little shiver ran through him, the adrenaline and sensitivity getting the better of him.
“Turn around, Jisung, please,” Minho asked through broken whines.
Jisung jolted at his voice again, his sensual tone melting down his spine. Jisung did as instructed, slowly turning, seeing how Minho had repositioned himself, one hand pressed against the glass, and another stroking his pretty pink cock outside of his pants.
Minho stood there, encapsulated by the glass as if he were on display. Jisung’s perfect peep show, his dream guy in front of him with a hand wrapped around his cock. He’d never seen one before, not like this, and Minho’s was so perfect, just like he was.
He started watching Minho's big, strong thighs, twitching in his tight pants every now and then at a particularly sensitive touch.
“Oh, god, Jisung… Let me see it,” Minho purred, looking down at him like he could be devoured, eyes looking at his hand moving around, masked inside of his pants.
Jisunf suddenly felt embarrassed about his size, his girth, his slight lean. Minho might’ve seen much nicer cocks, ones that were more refined and trimmed or maybe even waxed entirely like pornstars were. He could have taken much bigger, or maybe Jisung’s was too big and grotesque. He didn’t know.
He had to constantly remind himself that none of this was real, anyway. He could do whatever he needed and the imaginary man in front would still moan out his name, regardless. Minho showed no signs of stopping, desperate to have something to work with in front of him.
Jisung’s head was spinning, watching Minho’s mouth open as he stroked himself in time to the sound of the soft pants falling from his lips. He watched the other hand leave the mirror and snake under his shirt. It looked like he was playing with his own nipple as he drew his lip between his teeth.
Jisung followed in tandem, the sensitivity making him let out an audible noise that Minho gasped at. It was like the more noise Jisung made, the more Jisung was rewarded with the same.
He’d not really played with his own nipples before; it felt amazing. He rolled it between his index and thumb, then let the pad of his index brush over it quickly; the softer, barely-there touches felt even more arousing.
“I’m pretending it’s you. You’re so hot, can’t believe I found you,” Minho gasped. His tongue dipped around his dry lips to re-moisturize them, “so, so hot. Please let me see it. I need to see your cock, Jisung.”
Jisung swallowed as he hesitated, finally pulling his hard cock outside of his pants, revealing himself, aching hard and red. Now totally on show, Minho looked him up and down, and practically started salivating, groaning to himself and pushing one of his hands over his head and through his hair as he gasped out in excitement.
“So fucking hot, Jisung, oh my god.”
Jisung slowly worked over himself in time with Minho’s rhythm, so they were synchronised.
“I'm… Nowhere near as hot as you, Minho.”
“That’s crazy, look at you,” Minho moaned. “That dick, those abs, those wide shoulders. Wish this was your mouth or your hand around me, not mine. I wish you were in here with me.”
“M-me too,” Jisung stuttered, trying his best to match Minho’s prowess with dirty talk.
He’d never even been in the position to show someone his cock, let alone talk about giving it to them, so the words felt alien sliding off of his tongue. Luckily, the anxiety and awkwardness he felt started to melt away along with the cacophony of noises falling off of Minho’s tongue.
He shuffled in closer, close enough to place his own hand against the glass, leaning over it as he felt his body start to twitch and tremble.
He jerked himself up and down at his regular speed, but Minho kept whispering to him to slow down, not to work himself up too soon.
He couldn’t exactly help it, watching Minho’s movements.
“Do you take it?” Minho cooed to him, looking back to connect their eyes, closer than ever.
It felt like Minho was staring into a part of him that he’d never had accessed before, like a deeper part of his being. He supposed this was what it felt like to bear yourself for someone to see.
“I-I haven’t ever,” Jisung replied. He had considered lying, but it felt like he was too far gone to make tangible sense anymore.
“You prefer to fuck, huh? Makes sense with that big, delicious cock,” Minho laughed airily, “Shit, it looks like you’d be such a good fuck too. The gift that keeps on giving.”
“Actually… I've never done… Anything.” Jisung let his head fall just a little, vulnerable under the man’s gaze.
Minho stopped in place for a moment, perplexity creasing his brow, as if he couldn’t believe it. They just stared at each other until Minho broke the tension and smiled.
He practically beamed, a twinkle in his eye at the challenge that had presented itself. Jisung felt more exposed than ever, having hidden his virginity secret from everyone around him.
Minho suddenly let out a louder moan, throwing his head forward against the mirror with a soft, dull thud. His forehead was so hot it was steaming up the glass, Jisung’s breath mingling with the condensation and dripping downwards.
“Oh god, Jisung. You’re doing so well for your first time, fucking me so good…” Minho moaned out, sounding like he was auditioning for an adult film, his voice rattling through Jisung’s skull.
“Fucking you?” Jisung questioned, watching him falling apart against the glass.
“I’m just imagining Jisung, that cock of yours inside of me. I bet you’re so desperate to fill someone up that you’d screw me until I couldn’t stand.”
Jisung felt his balls tighten. Minho had such a way with words, it left his mouth dry.
The idea of ever having someone as attractive as Minho felt overwhelming, imagining what his bare body would look like under his shirt, imagining what noises he’d make in real life if he were truly there.
He thought about the positions. He thought about watching his dick press in and out as he was on all fours, just like he’d seen in porn. He thought about laying him down against the bed and spreading his legs wide, witnessing Minho’s ass taking him the whole way until his pelvis was flush.
He’d watch it slide inside, always too enthralled by the idea of it. He knew that Minho would be one to put on a show.
He couldn’t deny it. He wanted it so badly. So why did no one want to experience it with him?
“Can I—Can I see more, too?” Jisung asked, without even thinking. He was a little lost in his libido, his rational thoughts replaced with broken ones, each one terrifying him more than the last.
Minho stopped jerking himself, travelling downwards, sliding down the glass to his knees.
Both hands trailed down the mirror, as if to land hypothetically where Jisung’s thighs were, his mouth opening. He looked up, sticking his tongue out so lewdly that Jisung could barely believe it.
His eyes were glistening, forehead messy with sweat and his silky bangs stuck in either side. He looked so desperate, aching to take his load.
He wanted to be inside of Minho’s hot, wet mouth so badly that it made him feel dazed. He wished it was real. He wanted to paint his tongue with his cum like in the movies he’d seen thick ropes of cum blasting over his lips and nose. He wished it was real. He knew Minho would make a spectacle of it, rolling it all around in his mouth, showing it off to him, proving he was the best he’d ever tasted. God, he wished it was real.
Suddenly, Minho leaned backwards, unbuckling himself and pulling his pants totally down for more freedom.
Jisung saw the thickness of his bare thighs, sticking against the fake leather material as he pulled them away, ridding himself of everything on his lower half, the little kitty tail tossed aside beyond his vision.
He leant backwards against his elbows, spreading his legs and then spreading his cheeks, showing his puckered hole to Jisung, fluttering open and closed. Jisung had barely even seen his own asshole, let alone someone else’s in real life—or, pseudo real life. Whatever this was.
“God, it’s so… How does it even… Fit? It’s so hard to believe,” Jisung said, feeling his thighs starting to spasm. He knew the logistics of it all, but Minho’s hole looked so small, like his cock wouldn’t be even able to push through it.
“You have to stretch me out, fill me up with your fingers ‘til I can’t take anymore,'' Minho whined, tensing and untensing his hole. “Then my body relaxes and lets you do what you want.”
“S-shit,” Jisung groaned, dropping down to his knees to meet Minho’s level.
“Then you push your cock inside, fuck me however you want, in and out, hitting that sweet spot, making me leak— God, Jisung!”
“—O-oh god.”
Jisung found himself pressing even closer to the mirror, wishing he could connect against the glass, wanting so desperately to curl their fingers tightly together or taste the sounds against his lips.
“Touch me Jisung, touch my cock, please. I knew it had to be you as soon as I saw you. those strong arms, your pretty lips. Don’t they look like they’ll fit mine? Please make me come, Jisung,” Minho moaned, starting to press and curl the tip of his finger around his hole, just gentle circular motions, drawing Jisung’s attention.
“How can I, Minho?” Jisung begged, “Please tell me how.”
“Reach in, wrap your hands around me, shove your fingers inside of me. All over. I need to feel you Jisung. I’m so close, I need you to take me apart. You’re the only one who can make me,” Minho moaned, words rattling out of his mouth like a stream of consciousness.
His eyes were closed, his fingers playing with his ass in one hand, his other hand rapidly jerking himself off. His head fell so far back that Jisung could see his uvula at the back of his throat.
His pretty throat.
The bass thrummed in time with Jisung’s heartbeat, the floor is vibrating faster than his skin from below. The party pressed on all around them as Jisung pressed his single finger to the glass, desperate to push it inside of him.
“I’m gonna… I'm gonna come,” Jisung said, voice shaken. “I want to… I want to be inside of you, so bad.”
Minho quickly shifted back to his knees and opened his mouth like he was begging, sticking his tongue out like before, like he was waiting to take Jisung’s load for real, this time. The image alone took Jisung to his release, coming all over the side of his hand; body shaking and a gurgled moan escaping the lips.
It was the best orgasm he’d ever had.
God, he wished it were real.
“Close, close, so so close!” Minho screamed, “touch me Jisung, fuck, please!”
And Jisung simply couldn’t resist, seeing Minho’s pretty pink cock sitting flush between his legs. He reached his hand forward, desperate to connect their skin, ignoring the banging on the other side of the door.
He heard it vaguely, but he’d become swept away in his own thoughts, pushing his hand into the glass, through into the other plane.
The scarf holding the door closed was abruptly crumpled under the door as it’s barged through, someone swinging into the room with a voice of thunder.
Minho held his hand out towards him, and Jisung couldn’t help but take it, wanting to be guided in the correct places to touch him, wrapping his hands around him and squeezing his eyes firmly shut as Minho screamed out in pleasure.
He jolted, finishing all over them both as he moaned out Jisung’s name; it was unlike anything he’d ever heard bless his ears.
Then he heard someone else screaming, and as he opened his eyes, Jisung realised that was staring back at his own face, watching himself, with a handful of cum.
Someone had barged into the room in the reflection behind him.
He couldn’t move his muscles through a few seconds of shock, thighs still twitching. He reached out, feeling the cold glass of the back of the mirror. The face, his face, is staring looking back at him.
The face smiled back, but it wasn't smile he had mustered himself. It was a sordid, menacing smile as he wiped the semen across the thigh of his pants, unashamed of how dirty it was.
Jisung tried to look around, but the mirror reflection of him didn't follow along with his movements. It continued to smile, as it mouthed ‘thank you, Jisung’, to him, his head tilting just off to the side.
Seojun bridged the distance and reached for him, ripping him up from the floor by the back of his collar. Jisung looked on in horror from the mirror, trapped behind it, as other Jisung was yanked away, laughing to himself.
“The fucking loser is jerking off in my sisters’ fucking room! What a fucking creep!” Seojun screamed, louder than Jisung had ever heard anyone scream. The words stung, but the Jisung who was standing in the real world, in front of Seojun was still laughing, giggling away to himself despite the intensity of the allegation.
Seojun’s fist collided with Jisung’s face and he almost expected to feel it himself. His own face, nose shattered and blood spilling from a split at his cupid's bow. From within the mirror, he felt nothing, but he could, only able to watch on as other Jisung was beaten apart, blood frothing from his lips and spilling onto the carpet.
Other Jisung suddenly swung his head forward, crashing their foreheads together and finishing up with a sudden punch to the face for good measure. Then, as Seojun doubled over, other Jisung kneed him in the groin, making him collapse in half, and he collapsed into a pile on the floor.
Jisung started banging his hand against the glass from within the mirror, calling out for someone to help, for anyone to help, but no one could hear him screaming.
The Jisung in front of him started laughing, continuing to punch and kick Seojun to the floor, taking advantage of the foetal position he’d curled up on, to take a few cheap shots at his face. Then, he paced towards the door, shoving a chair under the handle to lock them both resolutely inside.
This time, there was no way someone would get inside.
He reached for the guy by the neck, wrapping his hands around it.
Before Minho—Jisung, whoever it was, could say another word, he pulled Seojun towards the window, both hands wound around his windpipe, dragging him across the carpet so roughly that it likely burnt his skin.
Jisung screamed even louder from the mirror, slamming his hand against the back of the glass, his body something he can see but can’t control in front of him.
Why can no one see him? Why was no one stopping him? How could Minho take over him so easily?
He banged and banged until he felt the glass splinter through his balled fist, but it never shattered. He couldn’t break free from the reflective prison, and instead had to watch a mirror of himself, pulling Seojun by his neck, kicking and screaming, towards the very same window that Minho was thrown out of three and a half years prior.
Minho dragged him to the window whilst still giggling to himself, trying to hoist him over the side, utilising Jisung’s strength in a way he hadn’t ever, himself.
“What the fuck are you doing you crazy son of a bitch! Help! Someone fucking help me!” Seojun screamed, thrashing around for dear life. “This weirdo freak is trying to fucking kill me!”
Jisung watched the man’s body crash against the window seat, knocking off the books and a school rucksack, rolling over the windowpane, Jisung’s hands pressing him downwards with Minho at the helm.
Jisung realised that his own fingerprints would be all over the guy's body as Minho shoved him.
“I’d give you a moment to beg for forgiveness, but you didn’t give me the same courtesy,” Minho said to him through Jisung’s lips, Seojun’s face contorted in confusion.
“I don’t even know you, you fucking freak!”
“Stop it! Stop this!” Jisung cried, “please! Minho! This isn’t the way!” Jisung shrieked out one last time from the glass, pounding on the back of it, but his voice echoed into the vast expanse of the mirrored realm he’d become entrapped within.
Minho, in control of Jisung’s body, struck him in the face so hard that his head started lulling and lolloping around, deadweight. He was nearly knocked out, Minho continuing to drag him over the side of the open window.
With one final push, his body tumbled over the ledge and down, down, until there was a loud, dull thump and the air filled with curdled screams of young adults from below.
“Let me out!” Jisung screamed, watching himself, “You—you killed him! Please! How do I get out! Minho! What have you done?!”
“Get out? You don’t, Jisung,” Minho laughed, his voice where Jisung’s face was. “He deserved to be hurt, he killed me first. Thanks for the body, though. You were so fun.”
Minho waltzed in closer, slowly, undeterred by howls of college kids who had had the rest of their lives traumatised from outside of the window. The music came to an abrupt stop below them, screams of ‘call an ambulance’, ‘someone help’.
The voices turned into a chorus, everyone in a blind panic, whilst Minho wandered closer, without a care in the world.
He pressed a finger against the mirror where Jisung's had previously left a trail, and Jisung went to reach for it to tear him back inside, but he was only met with resistance; the cold glass on the other side.
“You’re a monster! How could you?!” Jisung screamed, tears spilling over his lash line, smudging the whiskers that had appeared on his face, down his cheeks.
“When I said I wanted you to touch me Jisung, I was being honest at least. I meant it,” he laughed. “You’re so cute. I do wish I could have actually fucked you tonight. Unfortunately I need a body for that. At least I can look forward to fucking myself in your tight, buff little body tonight, for sure.”
Jisung slammed his hands down against the glass, screaming, howling.
“You—! You used me!” he cried out, tears barreling down his face as his legs gave into his weight.
He slid down the glass, Minho ducking down with him to watch him fall into a heap on the floor.
“But didn’t we have fun?” Minho said, tilting his head to the side. “I better get down to the party before anyone sees that it was you who killed him.”
“I didn’t!” Jisung screamed, “you—you!”
“You should have stayed at home, Jisung,” Minho said, winking at him, exhaling under his breath. He pouted his lip out, creating a faux sympathy that filled Jisung with dread.
He banged his balled fists against the internal glass, freezing cold to the touch, staring out towards the window as the curtain billowed in the wind. He could still hear the screaming, the cries and shrieks of the crowd below. It nearly drowned out the sound of Minho's gentle laughter.
Minho made his exit, pulling the chair away from underneath the door and straightening up, ready to return to the party. He pushed his hands through Jisung's hair, and tightened his belt back up, a little too pleased with himself at how everything had unfurled.
He gave Jisung a final, remaining wink, before he bowed out of the room, disappearing off into the light of the hallway, and the thud of the bass.
Jisung's hands slid down the glass, helpless, defeated.
He'd definitely never forget Lee Minho.
He should have stayed home.