This month there’s a long mirror right in front of Nicole’s bed. Or well. it’s always been there, all pretty and quite arguably cursed. Some hand-me-down from an aunt on her mom’s side. It hadn’t really been a particularly striking object; just another stray piece of home she brought with she when she moved out. She’d considered giving it back, or even selling it just to give her room some more space. But somehow, it’s managed to better define itself around the time Josh starts coming over.
It’s been a good few months into her relationship with him—long enough to notice all the quiet things. How every time the two of them go out, he seems to always glance a second too long when he passes by a shop window. How in almost every interval of 3 milliseconds, he’s fixing his bangs or touching his lips. She caught him checking himself out in her mirror the first time he stopped by her place.
Sure, it doesn’t really bother her—it’s adorable, honestly, but whenever she stops by the mirror in front of her bed, she can’t help but think about the thin imaginary line between vanity and insecurity, and wonder which side her boyfriend’s about to tip over if he took another step. Though, it isn’t any of her business anyway. Especially when she’s probably looking into it too much.
But then, July swings by and as does Josh. The light switch flicks on as he kicks off his shoes, giggling when he slightly trips over air and into her arms.
His lips are a kiss away; so much so that even without closing the gap, she can still feel the way he smiles as she looks into his eyes—the color a kind of dark-almost-black brown that catches the light in tiny shimmers, like glitter.
He blinks. “Hi,” Smiles.
She leans forward in reply—where a gasp becomes a sigh and her chest thumps on beat with the way he kisses back. The door clicks closed with a soft kick, and then they’re both walking backwards into her bedroom where she can’t be bothered to switch on the lights this time.
“You did really well tonight,” She tells him, pushing him down to sit on the edge of her bed (and it’s true; it was his last show where he played one of the leading roles and dazzled the whole audience with that smile and that voice. As always).
“Thank you,” He mutters, bits of stray make-up still on his face; coal liner dusted above and below his lash line and lips tinged a red that has made its way to her lips too.
The longer she looks at him, the more she finds how unfair it is that the moonlight gets to filter in through the blinds and illuminate him as if it were in love with the way he breathed. In a playful competitive bout against it, she litters kisses along his jaw, his neck, his chest, and his legs widen on instinct as she sinks down to her knees.
“Everyone loved you,” She grips his thighs, firm, and he sighs, loose, before putting his fingers in her hair. “Such a star, you…”
He laughs, but it chokes off once she palms him through his jeans, amused by how hard he is now. She notices as his gaze focuses in on her mouth, and it’s in that moment she can tell he can’t really handle much foreplay any longer. He’s exhausted. And like, bluntly put: really horny. (Descriptively put, his eyes are glazed, and his chest is rising and falling as it takes in all the air that’s been knocked out). She’s afraid he might pass out if she teases him.
So when his jeans are finally off and his cock is finally in her hands, he leans down to catch her lips, breathless as she lazily pumps him a few times. It’s a mess of a kiss, really, but with Josh every kiss is always more than just an exchange of flavor—there’s so much *tell* in how he applies pressure—in how he shifts placement and licks quite chaste. To Josh, a kiss is more conversation than any word he could ever say.
And this kiss is whispering a thousand times, *please.*
She pulls away just as she digs her thumb into the tip of his length. “You’re so talented,” she insists, catching precum and smearing it all over.
The small whine only partially escapes him before he immediately bites his bottom lip to trap the rest of it in. He glances to the side—in some attempt to hide his blush. “Thanks,” he whispers, this time.
It’s funny how just around two hours ago he’d belted his lungs out in front of a good amount of people like it was nothing, yet *now*—with his hair sticking to his forehead and his eyelashes still curled like this—he’s acting all blushy and bashful only in front of *her.* Honestly, she’s quite awed by the simple juxtaposition of it all, enough so that she’s driven to lick a long wet stripe up his shaft, her hand following with a twist to spread the slick.
“*Ah*,” He gasps, fingers curling against her scalp and thighs tensing under the weight of her grip. He breathes like its a lullaby, watching as she licks up the other sides of his cock too. She watches him back, each lick an easy response to each desperate sigh he allows himself.
“You’re so pretty like this,” He says into the dark, moonlight dancing all over each syllable. He combs her hair back with his fingers, letting his hand trail along her jaw, and end on her cheek.
She leans her face into the touch, pumping his cock, once, twice, before looking up at him and his perfect lips. “You too,” she suddenly says, pressing her lips against the tip of his length. He tilts his head to the side, not quite getting what she means while he’s still heady on sensation.
She clarifies, “You’re so pretty, Josh,” and she don’t even give him the chance to process the words as she leans in to wrap her lips fully around the head of his cock. The stretch gets hotter and fuller the more of him she takes in, waves of heat taking over and brewing up a sizzle that sits somewhere below her stomach. Josh bites his bottom lip on a groan.
When his cock almost meets the back of her throat, she lets it stay there for a bit, basking in the sheer fullness of everything and how so much of what is surrounding her is thick atmosphere and glorious nightshine. But, it seems *a bit* takes too long for Josh as he ever so slightly cants his hips up, whispering a breathy “God, *please*,” so softly only he could’ve heard it if she hadn’t been paying attention to the rise and fall of chest.
So she definitely notices his breath that hitches when she drags her lips up and zigzags her tongue along the underside of his cock as she goes along, lapping her tongue against the tip when she reach it, before coming off his length with a string of saliva following the tip of her tongue. His hips buck up in an attempt to follow the heat of her mouth, the grip in her hair tightening but not forceful.
She realizes, then—as her heart does the cutest little pirouette in her chest despite her current disposition—how Josh, even through copious amounts of arousal, can’t innately hurt her; how he can’t find it in himself to really want to. Not really.
“Fuck, *please*,” He begs softly, hips stuttering up.
She tightens her hold on his thigh, clipping him to the bed, “What do want, baby?” Her fingers loosen their grip around his shaft, touch feathery in its grace. “Be specific, dear,” She requests, dipping forward to give him kitten licks to the head as she waits for a proper response.
“Ah, Y-Your mouth, *please*, I’m—”
With that, she wraps her lips around him again, sinking down and moving her tongue as much as she can around the underside of his shaft—hot, thick, and bitter. Her mouth is so *full*, but nowhere near as full as she’d like it to be.
“*Fuck*, wait, I’m g-*gonna*,” Fingertips curl in her hair and the hand on her cheek goes to grip the sheets of the bed—his thighs clench under her palm, and she can almost feel the way the heels of his feet rise off the floor. She comes off his cock with a sloppy pop, hand coaxing out the release into her open mouth.
It’s almost cinematic, the way he climaxes: his whole body pulled taut into every peak of gleam and ebb of dark, his lips open around the lightest whine in his throat, and sweat clinging to his body quite divine. It’s like he’s posing for a painting, almost, as he tilts his body back and looks straight-forward with hooded eyes. And quite frankly, from her current vantage point, he does manage quite a flattering angle.
*But* in the exact split second before his cum fills her mouth (drips over the corners of her lips, down her chin), she’s reminded of the stark *presence* of the mirror in front of her bed.
She swallows what she can.
Josh collapses into the sheets.
But immediately jolts back up, only barely saving her from a kick to the jaw. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he says, placing his hand on her cheek before wiping off a drip of cum from the corner of her mouth—this whole chain of events leaving her quite confused between arousal and amusement.
“You haven’t even come yet and I—” Josh sighs. Pats his thigh, “ —C’mere.”
“Thought you’d never ask,” She manages, even as she rises up from her buckling knees, the wet heat between her legs coiling into every other sensitive crevice of her body. She settles above his clad thigh, hovering, where he leans forward to kiss his own cum off the plush of her lips, all grace sacrificed in the name of lazy desperation.
When they part, he slides his hands down to her hips—and If it weren’t for how she paid attention to the rise and fall of his chest, she might not have noticed the quiet glance he’d spared straight-forward, *again*. She blinks, and Josh’s eyes are back on her, heavily maintained. He grinds the ball of his palm into her wetness.
Who cares. Maybe it’s just a ghost or something.
—
She wakes up the next morning with the thought she can’t get out of her head and Josh’s arm around her waist. With his breath fanning the nape of her neck, she can’t help but recall what happened last night. The way he seemed to angle his body like it was a secret—the way his eyes focused forward on something that wasn’t her.
Sitting up isn’t an easy task, not when she’s warm and cozy and Josh is clinging to her like a koala, but she manages, successfully extracting herself from his grip and swinging her legs over the side of the bed to make her way to the bathroom.
Cold water splashed on her face wakes her up, but the more awake she is, the more she thinks, and the more she thinks, the more she thinks about Josh, and how at the *very* moment he came, he’d been looking at his own reflection.
Okay, sure, he was already pretty riled up to begin with. But she can’t help but entertain the thought that he wouldn’t have come as soon as he did if the mirror weren’t there.
He came not just to the feeling, but also to the sight of you sucking him off. More than that, he came to the sight of *himself*.
She shuts off the faucet, dries her face with a towel, and turns to lean against the doorframe, where she watches her boyfriend, the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows—before padding over to him to press a kiss on his forehead.
Josh shuffles, grumbles, and stretches almost feline in his wake.
“Morning,” she whispers against his forehead, threading her fingers into his hair to tame it down a little bit.
“You left me,” he accuses in a soft mumble, before slithering his arms around her waist, and bringing her in closer. “Heh. You can’t escape now.”
She hums. “Bummer,” before giggling into the kiss she gives him. It’s delicate, at first—just savoring the each other’s softness, before it deepens very quickly—when she pushes the blankets down and lets her hand roam under his shirt, fingers drawing small shapes around all the places she’d like to bite a little color. Josh does the same, hiking up the hem of her shirt and slipping a fingertip just a little bit past the waistband of her shorts with his other hand.
They both part, far enough to whisper a few words but still close enough that every exhale is a dizzying exchange of gasp.
“You’re so mean to me—” He confesses (halfway through another kiss he can’t help) “—Especially in the morning.”
She hums again, swinging her leg over his thighs to straddle him as he props himself up on his elbows. He tilts his head to the side where she presses her lips against his neck, sinking her teeth down into his skin, lifting his shirt up as her hands explore. Josh gulps when she swipes a fingertip over his nipple, sighing out a high-pitched swear when she tweak it around between her fingers.
When she pulls away from his neck, her lips are slick and her head’s a bit foggy watching how dawn eases through the window and rests along his eyelashes—along the flush on his cheeks and the tip of his nose. More curious than teasing, she asks, “Are you hard right now?”
He looks at her deadpan. “Take a *wild* guess.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” She laughs, tugging his shirt upward, endeared by the amplified mess of his hair when it pops off his head, before indulging herself in another kiss, his hands gravitating to cup her ass. Her whole body goes slack, so tipsy on the mellow fuzz that slides off her lips every time she pulls back at the length of a breath, only to press back into his lips at the faintest taste of toothpaste mint. Josh groans, a low sound that travels down her throat and straight into her core.
When she pulls back, Josh is mesmerizing, panting and glowing from the early morning lethargy. All the while dawn bounces off the mirror in front of her bed.
Ah. Which reminds her.
“I wanna try something.”
“Not anything freaky please. I just woke up,” Josh grumbles, before sitting up more upright, efficiently making her slot snug into his lap. He grumbles (his half-hard cock grazing against the curve of her ass through ridiculous pieces of ugh. Cloth). He leans in, but she pulls back, putting a finger to his lips.
She laughs. “Don’t worry. It’s not too freaky. I just woke up too, y’know,” she says as she traces his spit slick lips with the tip of her pointer finger, focused on the muted stutter of an exhale that slips past him when she does so. She looks him in the eyes. “It’ll feel good. Promise.”
He pouts. “Fine,” Before leaning in to kiss her nose—whining when she crawls off his lap to sit at the edge of the bed.
She pats the spot beside her, “Come here, baby.”
He complies albeit not without a few lazy complaints, sluggishly swinging his legs over the edge too. He looks at her with raised eyebrows as if to say, *this is it?*
She kisses him on the nose (both a thank you for his trust, and a response thats says *no, this isn’t it*), before leaning into his side to kiss his ear, slowly sidling to position herself behind him, her hands stroking his sides before going down to his thighs, firm, and maneuvering them open wide. “So gorgeous,” She whispers into his ear, his hips rising as she push down his sweatpants.
She grips his length as soon as he kicks his pants and underwear off.
He cranes his head to look at her, asking aloud, “I-is this it?” as she takes to pumping him to full hardness.
She kisses him in reply, other hand trailing up to play with a nipple. He melds into her, into her lips and into her touch—his whole body going fully pliant. She digs her finger into the tip of his length. “Look forward, Josh.”
And he does, swallowing a lump in his throat as he glances at himself in the mirror. “I don’t get it,” his legs close slightly, and she can feel his whole body go warm as he shies away into the side of her face.
“What do you mean?” She pulls at his nipple, twists her fist up around him, “Just take a look; you’re so pretty, baby.”
Josh whines yet doesn’t budge at all, face burning into the crook of her neck and thighs threatening to shut fully in embarrassment. She keeps going, maintaining a slow, and loose and coaxing pace.
“You should really see yourself,” She whispers into his ear “Such a view.”
He bites on his bottom lip before finally looking forward, gazing at her through the mirror. She rewards him with a faster, tighter pace, and a fleeting kiss to his earlobe. “See, that wasn’t so hard, right?”
He gulps. Keeps his desperate eyes locked on hers through the mirror as he pants, strictly refusing to look at himself. She pouts against his ear, “C’mon, I know you wanna look at yourself. Look at your pretty cock—so pretty and perfect—you know how good you make me feel. right baby?”
“*Ah,*” He whines, brows furrowing, lips so impossibly red when she notices him focusing on his reflection just as she feels his cock twitch in her wet grip.
“See?” Her other hand grips his thigh for emphasis, fingers buzzing as she squeezes the thick skin, “So beautiful.”
She watches him as he begins to watch himself, and how he’s almost mesmerized by the way his own chest rises and how his own lips part. “I wanna take a picture of you,” she blurts out, to which he responds with a whine, eyes glazed, still examining himself as the high sound escapes him.
She can tell he’s close now—a single word away from cumming—by the way he arches his back and tilts his head on her shoulder— by how he’s *still* looking at his own reflection. This has her stopping her hand at the base of his cock.
His hips buck up into her hand as he whimpers and looks at her through the mirror, so stunned at the denial of his climax. She tightens the ring of fingers she’s made around his cock, nuzzling her cheek against the side of his face as she whispers, “Baby, look at how red your pretty cock is.”
He swallows a lump in his throat.
“Do you know how pretty you are?”
“*Please,*” his hands coming up from its vice grip on the sheets to toy with his own nipples— something she wasn’t expecting.
It leaves her shocked, sending heat to collect all over the room in thin sheets of morning haze and desperation, and sink all over her. “Tell me,” She manages, even as Josh stares at himself in the mirror, watching how his fingers tweak his own nipples. Her fingers loosen around his shaft for a fraction of a second. Tighten back immediately. “Do you know how pretty you are?”
“Yes,” He says in a whisper, looking at himself, idly angling his head as if so fascinated by the way he, *himself*, breathed, pulling at his own nipples—and with a mewl, he comes just as she pumps her fingers up once, a load of come shooting across his stomach and his thighs.
“*Ah!*” he whines, a dragged out noise as his hips buck, unsure whether the pain of overstimulation is pleasure or not as she keeps stroking him past the edge.
“Fuck—*hah*—I c-can’t it’s too much—” he chokes on his words, face flushed out as she swipes a thumb over the head of his leaking cock.
“Sh,” You hush, kissing the side of his face, “I know. You did so well. My star.”
He buries his face into her neck, muffling a whimper when she finally unwraps her fingers from his cock.
She raises her fingers, still sticky from come, to his mouth. “Taste yourself baby,” She tells him, feeling her whole body set itself on fire as he languidly opens his mouth to lick his own cum off her fingers, eyes locked on hers through the mirror as he does so.
“Now you know why I love sucking you off so much,” She says with a laugh, her other hand caressing his side, trying to massage some energy back into him as dawn crawls off the mirror and settles in another corner of the room. “You taste pretty good, right?”
He hums, but just when she thinks she should probably be getting up to clean him up, he stops her with lips to her neck, his whole body twisting around to hold her by the shoulders, and another missed morning alarm later, she’s underneath him as he kisses his way down her stomach.
“I think we something in common,” he drawls, pressing his lips into the skin of her thighs before ducking down between her legs.
All the while, the mirror’s still there too, and it stays.
–
as always thank you for reading, and comments make me ecstatic!! ^w^
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/wbwgej/mr_shyness_m25f24_intimate_msubgentle_fdom_praise