Once, there was a boy whose paper skin stretched over glass bones. He lived deep in the forest in a gingerbread house that smelled of heaven and hell and tasted of fairy tales and dread. Every day, he would wake to his house tempting him with confections of every flavor.
The bathroom mirror, framed with marbled white fudge.
The oven, open of a fresh batch of gingerbread men.
The floor, crisp bars of the thickest and darkest chocolate ever imagined by men.
But, the boy would never sample his temptations. Instead he fought against them, smashing mirrors, crushing the gingerbread men, and pounding at the floor with his fists until they were raw and bloodied.
And the boy hid things around his house. Secret things. Hidden things. Shameful things. And his house wouldn't let him forget them.
The bathroom mirror, ugly and warped.
The oven, opened to half burnt gingerbread men, their mouth open in silent screams.
The floor, old and splintered, covered in cold blood and bile.
As the boy's heart ticked further and further into the future, his body began to fade. At first it was nothing he couldn't handle. A mug would fall through his hand and shatter against the floor or he would need to try more than once to grasp the doorknob firmly enough to open the door.
But, soon he began to fall through the floor and pass through the walls of his gingerbread house. The house tried it's hardest to help, to make the boy more solid. It would create the sweetest candies for the boy, the best cake, everything, anything. The house would create anything for the boy.
He never took a bite.
The boy knew what the house was. He knew it only meant to poison him, to make him ugly and weak and fat. And slowly, as his body faded, so did the house's glamour.
The gingerbread walls were no longer made of cookie and icing. Instead, the boy saw them for what they really were. Thick stitches of red licorice and blood veins held the parts together, a gruesome tapestry of human flesh. The boy saw the pieces of bone and rotting limbs in the meals the house made. He smelled the decay wafting from the oven as he tried to fool the house into thinking he was doing what it wanted.
And he did.
Flesh hidden in closets, eyeballs stuffed and floating in jars of formaldehyde flavored soda, bones hidden in the back of the toilet seat. He smiled at the house, nodded and laughed and let the house think it had won.
That is until the boy disappeared forever, right in the middle of a conversion with his house, and was lost. In the moment before the boy vanished completely, the house watched in horror and the brightest smile creased his paper skin. The picture of serenity and peace, until the boy was nothing and no more.
Carlos bit his lip as he turned the mirror over in his hands. He knew what he should do, run after Evie and give the ancient glass back to her. He would have done that even if he hadn't come to Auradon, it was just the kind of person Carlos was. But as the De Vil parted his lips to call out to the technical princess, no sound came out. Instead he listened as the girl's footsteps grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared completely.
With a quiet grace he didn't know he possessed, Carlos tiptoed towards the door and quietly locked it, as to not wake Dude, who slept curled in a small, brown, fluff ball in the corner of the dorm room. His heart pounded against his ribs as a lump grew in the base of the boy's throat. He swallowed it down as he crawled into bed, the coolness of the sheets seeping through his clothes and the silence in the room pounding in his ears.
Slowly, Carlos raised the mirror just high enough to gaze at his reflection, white hair, face full of freckles, the usual gazed back at him. But, Carlos wasn't interested in himself. No, instead he looked past his reflection and through the grimy glass to what was hidden behind its simple façade.
It hid the magic well, even the fairy godmother had no idea what Evie carried with her, hell Carlos doubted Evie or her mother knew what kind of power they had. They could see anything, secrets, blackmail, the world was at their finger tips and yet they used it to make sure they were the fairest in the land.
It wasn't like Carlos didn't understand it, even as he held the mirror in front of him, the world's best cheat codes, government secrets, the answers to some of life's greatest questions all paled in comparison to what he really wanted.
With a voice steadier then anything that has ever passed his lips, Carlos spoke to the mirror.
"Magic Mirror in my hands, show me where the one I want stands."
Instantly, his reflection vanished only to be replaced by another image; one of the newly crowned King of Auradon who stood in the center of his room, gazing at the mirror above his dresser. Carlos stiffened as his eyes drank in every inch of the sixteen year old. A black tank top clung to his chest, accentuating the teen's well defined chest and abs. His brown-blond hair stuck to his forehead in dark tendrils and, as he ran his hand through his locks, Carlos' mouth dried as he watched the muscles in Ben's arm flex.
But, as the De Vil unconsciously fell back onto his bed, his mouth started to water once his eyes drifted low enough. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Carlos found comfort in the fact he wasn't the only teenager to wear tighty whities. Ben's briefs, stark white and a perfect contrast to his black tank top, fit him perfectly. Carlos felt his own briefs tighten as his greedy eyes took in every curve and bulge the fabric concealed from the mirror's view.
Ben glanced around his bedroom, completely unaware of Carlos, and once he was confident he was alone fell backwards onto his bed. The King's hand slowly roamed the fabric of his tank top, drawing small circles around each of his nipples until they had hardened into points.
Carlos suddenly felt too hot. The air in his dorm hung thick with humidity and his clothes awkwardly stuck to his body. When Ben's hand traveled lower, palming himself through the tented fabric of his briefs, eyes closed in pleasure, Carlos practically ripped the shorts off his body, his own cock leaking pre-cum through the white and black material of his briefs.
"Ben" Carlos muttered as he held the mirror closer, his palm slick with sweat.
The boy in the mirror rolled a pink tongue over his lips before peeling down his underwear to his knees with one hand. His cock sprang free, hard as a diamond. The sight of Ben's penis nearly overwhelmed Carlos, who had already wrapped his own hand around himself. The black and white teen watched as Mal's boyfriend wrapped his left hand around the engorged organ and began a series of slow strokes.
The part of Carlos' mind that wasn't overwhelmed with lust couldn't believe his luck. Not only was he able to watch his crush undetected, but was getting enough masturbatory material to last him a life time. Carlos' eyes narrowed in on Ben's strokes, matching the pace of his own motions with his crush's.
If he closed his eyes, Carlos could almost picture it was Ben jerking him off. That it was Ben's hot breath sending waves of gooseflesh and pleasure down his spine. He could almost believe it was Ben in the room afterwards, whispering sweet nonsense into Carlos' ear as they lay naked between the sheets, smelling of sex and lust and love.
But, Ben wasn't there. He was in his own room, probably jacking off to a mental picture of Mal in some princess getup. Carlos shook those thoughts away as his strokes grew faster and pleasure began to bubble to the surface.
Carlos opened his eyes for one last glance at the King, one more image to push him over edge. Instead, he found himself transfixed on Ben as he drew the index and middle finger into his mouth. Carlos could see the outline of his tongue pressing against his cheek as the muscles swirled around the digits.
However, when Ben arched his back and slide his index finger passed the ring of muscle, Carlos fucking lost it. He didn't even need to stroke himself, instead an orgasm rocked his body unlike anything he had ever felt before.
Fireworks.
He felt like a supernova, like a star exploding in the night sky, sending stardust to every corner of the universe. His skin tingled; his breath was labored and heavy. Exhaustion overtook the De Vil almost immediately, the sheets of his bed swallowing the younger boy until Carlos almost fell asleep right there, with his underwear around his ankles and cum splattered across his chest.
Instead, Carlos gathered himself and stalked to the bathroom, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear as he did. A hot shower, and another session with his hand, brought Carlos out of the bathroom feeling like a new man. He adjusted his member in new briefs, trying not to think about Ben's own pair as he did so, and pulled on a new pair of red shorts.
Just as he had slipped them on, Jay unlocked the door and unceremoniously barged inside. Carlos took note of the trail of hickies starting from the base of his jaw line and disappearing under the collar of his shirt.
"Dude!" Jay shouted, the dog in question instantly leaping to his feet, tail wagging in excitement. "Let's go for a walk."
"He's my dog," Carlos muttered, zipping up his fly. "I should walk him."
"You can come and pick up his shit." Jay suggested, scooping the mutt up in his tanned arms. Carlos muttered something inaudible as he grabbed Dude's leash from its hook and followed the son of Jafar out the door, shutting it behind him with a loud bang.
As Carlos made his way out of Auradon prep, he remained completely unaware that during his orgasm, the magic mirror had slipped from his grasp and splintered against the floor.
The mirror had enough cracks, more than enough really, but as the glass splintered against the dorm floor, it ran deeper than any crack beforehand. Pass the glass, pass the frame, and down. Down into the depths of the mirror the crack spread. Deeper and deeper and deeper, until it came to the deepest point.
And at that point, did something slip out of the magic mirror. The slave. The power. It leaked from the fractured glass like liquid diamond, glittering in the midday sun until it took shape. Skin that glistened like the glass that grew in thin stands from atop its head and a chunk of mirrored glass in each eye socket.
The Slave in the Magic Mirror reached down with long fingers and plucked the remnants of its prison from the ground. It help the frame in its hands as if were a feather, light and delicate. Then it crushed whatever remained of the magic mirror into dust.
The Slave stretched its arms over its head, tiny pops bursting from every joint as it did so, before moving to pick up Carlos' black and white briefs, a small "tsk-tsk" echoing from its mouth.
"Poor boy," the Slave muttered, tossing the underwear into the hamper. "Never to know what he could have had."
With that, the Slave pressed himself against a wall, parted its lips and asked itself the question it never could before. "Magic Mirror, pressed against the wall. Who do I want most of all?"
And in those mirrored eyes, the Slave saw exactly who it expected to see. A smirk slithered across its face as moved towards the door, each step as sharp and as loud as the sound of shattering glass.
A/N So here it is, my first attempt at a Descendant's fic. Let me know what you think! Remember to review!