Written based solely on the prompt "Cumore x Himself" for my friend on Tumblr.
He was panting, stroking himself in haste as he got ever closer to the edge. He had to hurry so he wouldn't get caught. The idea of being walked in on like this sent a delicious shiver down his spine. He had to hurry. Cumore moaned, pressing closer to the glass in front of him, and staring longingly into his own reflection.
This was his favorite way to see himself: flushed with pleasure, hair disheveled from the times he grabbed it, lips parted as he panted and moaned at the feeling of his own hand. Yes, he was delectable. Why would anyone look at another person when there was him? His single greatest regret was that he could never fuck himself properly.
So he had to imagine.
He imagined himself jerking himself off in front of his full sized mirror, on his knees because his legs were too weak to stand. He imagined himself entering the room unbidden and seeing him there. He would cross the room and seize himself around the neck, slamming himself down hard on the floor. He could see himself kicking his knees apart and lifting his hips so his ass would be in the air. He would laugh at himself, lying like a whore with his most important bits up in the air on display. He would free his cock, already hard and weeping at the idea of ramming his likeness into the ground in front of the mirror.
Moaning loudly at his own thoughts, he moved the hand not frantically pumping his dick behind him, working two fingers into his body with minimal concern for discomfort or pain. His skin stuck to itself and hurt as he thrust his fingers in and out of his body dry, but he did not slow or stop. It was too good. It ached and it was him and it was euphoric.
He saw his doppelganger fucking himself, one hand on the back of his neck to keep his head down and his breathing labored, the other clutching his hip in a vice-like grip to keep his hips in place while he rammed into his own ass.
Cumore came hard with a hiss and audible groan, spraying over his hand and the bottom of the mirror. He panted heavily as he worked himself through the entire orgasm, his whole body twitching as he finished. With another groan, his fingers slipped out of his body. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked himself clean, relishing the taste. He bent low, cleaning the mirror off with his tongue as well, desperate not to miss out on any of himself.
He looked into the mirror when he'd finished, watching his color return to normal and his breathing becoming more regular. He straightened his hair with his fingers and went about cleaning up and getting dressed once more.
Before leaving the room to get back to work, he looked at himself one last time. Never before had anything been so appealing to him. Not for the first time (even that day) he wondered what anyone could see in anyone but him.