Housesitter Pt. 03

Moreover, the windows didn't fog, useful for being thorough with washing, or for self-admiration. This shower is practically built for narcissists, Finn smirked. Still, I do look good, I guess.

He finished. When he stepped out, he couldn't resist a brief twist, swinging his cock, feeling the mischief. Nudie! Nudie! Nudie! Heh! It was pretty dumb, but nobody was there to see.

He brushed his teeth, turned out the lights, and went to bed.

The bathroom lay dark. No sound except a faint drip of water, which stopped soon enough. The shower mirrors reflected the dark.

Something appeared in them. Many somethings. Glowing red, with slits, like the eyes of predators hunting in the night. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they vanished. A soft sound, like a mischievous chuckle, burbled and disappeared.

Finn lay in the bed, the rocking motion helping to lull him to sleep. The house did not have the normal sounds. No creaks, or hums of electricity. It was quiet, but not oppressively so. This feels good.

His thoughts lingered, briefly, on the logbook. The lack of a pen or pencil to write seemed an unusual oversight.

Come to think of it, there aren't really any sharp or heavy objects in the house. Odd.

No screwdrivers, hammers, or nails. The automated lawnmowers locked away. No doors in the house requiring physical keys.

Really odd. Is this house designed to be safe?

He decided it could wait until morning.

****

He rose in the night, and stood beside the bed, hot and erect. A thrumming reverberated through his head, soft, seductive whispers he couldn't discern, but felt so... sensual.

A soft, ethereal light glowed from outside the room. He left the room, curious. The glow streamed down from the moon overhead, beaming its rays through the glass ceiling.

He descended down the stairs to the living room. The moon bathed the room in silver.

He looked around, until his eyes fell upon the mirrored wall.

A man was there.

"My reflection," he thought, at first, but no. It was someone else.

The mirror man's hair was light-colored, cut short, like his. His body was pale in the moonlight, slender, toned. His face cute, snub-nosed, round cheeks, narrow chin. His eyes, round, light-colored like his hair. His lips, thin, pursed in a puckish smile.

The mirror man did not look much older than him. His body was hairless, like him, other than his head and eyebrows.

The mirror man's cock stood thick and long on his hairless groin. The watcher felt his cock swell with desire at the sight.

The mirror man watched back, his lips curled more into a lustful smile. He walked to the glass, his lips opened. He said something but the watcher couldn't hear.

The watcher walked to the mirror, hoping to know.

The mirror man raised his hand and touched the glass. The watcher touched the glass in return, bringing his hand to the other's opposite.

The mirror man throbbed his thick, swollen cock against the glass. The watcher admired its near perfect shape, the veins standing dark against the pulsating flesh.

The watcher's eyes roamed up the mirror man's body, taking in his toned, flat torso, his sculpted marble chest, his broad shoulders, slender, but perfect arms, and a face that, while not of male model perfection, exuded a puckish sensuality.

The mirror man's eyes gleamed silver in the moonlight. They glanced down at the other's groin, glowing sensual mischief.

The other's eyes followed, to rest upon his own throbbing cock. He hadn't known his desire, until now.

He so wanted to touch this man, to feel the other's skin against his, to break through the glass into that mirror world.

Shadows appeared behind the mirror man. Blurry, indistinct, black as obsidian against the pale moonlight.

They crept up behind the mirror man. Their forms, vaguely, of bodies, heads, and then arms.

The shadows moved close, the heads seemed to whisper into the mirror man's ear.

Shadowy arms moved from behind the mirror man's body. Shadowy hands moved across his torso, stroking, petting, tweaking, teasing, down and across his groin, running over his cock.

The mirror man closed his eyes, and parted his mouth, letting the shadows take him. Before disappearing into the dark, he opened his eyes and gazed at the watcher, one last time... and mouthed two words.

****

Finn gasped awake. What the fuck was that?!

It was early morning. The sun hadn't yet risen, but the dawn light illuminated the bedroom.

Finn's cock stood, hard and erect. It deflated as the dream receded from his thoughts.

Did I actually dream that?

He had not thought of Ryan Burns from the laptop, not in that way, but last night... The Mirror Man.

It'd seemed so... surreal. It felt so odd. He felt odd. It had been a dream, of course. His reaction to seeing him in the mirror: the memory didn't disturb him. It was the shadows. What were they about?

Finn decided another hour or two's sleep would help. Before he nodded off, his thoughts turned back to what Ryan said, Or mouthed, in the mirror.

Get away.

To Be Continued.