The flesh in his hands responded to his own touch, the images in his head, stirring to life in no time. He held it at the base and stroked its length. The boy would do this. He would touch him like this, pinning him to the wall with his body and those long fingers would wrap around him. He would not snicker like some people thought he would, but instead he would lean over a shoulder to catch an unsuspecting earlobe and nib it, flick his tongue to lick at it, and he would not be able to tell if it was the shower water or the boy's tongue wetting his ear.
The boy would hold him tight, jerk him hard. He would say to him "I am you" and the voice would be clear even though his mind would be reeling. The boy would tease him, saying that this other him was touching himself, jacking him off in the school showers. Then the hands would work faster, he would part his lips and gasp and the boy would snicker then.
He would shut him up by kissing those laughing lips, he would thrust his tongue into the boy's mouth and tongues would stroke each other, the kiss would devour his soul whilst the hands on him devour his mind. Those hands would work harder still, moving furiously along his length and they would both growl at the heat. The boy would feel his need for release as intensely as he did because the boy was him and he was the boy, sometimes even he could not tell themselves apart.
The boy would be a talker. It would quickly become too much and his head would fall back, a moan would escape his throat and he would push into the boy's hand. The boy would growl into his ear, "You're going to come so hard you won't know who the fuck you are.", "I'm jacking myself off pretending I'm you.", "You're me, you're me, you're me.".
When he comes the boy would groan with him together. The boy would press their bodies together so that neither of them was clean and he would not let go of him, watching him ride the waves of pleasure until he knows it is completely over. Those hands would keep moving until he is sure there is nothing left.
His knees bucked and he sat down on the shower floor, eyes closed, breathing laboured. Yes, that was how it would have happened.
"You took longer than usual." The boy picked up the bag beside his feet and swung it over his shoulder.
He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, noting that the boy had not showered or got out of his guise yet.
"The shower at home is broken." The boy suddenly said, walking past the bus stop where he usually took the bus home.
He paused. The boy, a perfect doppelganger of himself, waited calmly. An act he had put up and his double copied to perfection.
"Come and use mine."