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It’s late, but Dream is antsy and full of energy. Between the stream with George and Puffy, and then dinner and drinks with the whole group after, he’s practically buzzing. He’s got that special energy flowing through him right now that can really only be spent one way.
His girlfriend looks over at him from where she’s already snuggled in bed and knows exactly what’s on his mind.
“Sorry, Clay,” she says, stifling a yawn. “I’m just so tired. If you don’t want to sleep, can you go hang out with George or something?”
Dream doesn’t want to sleep. He wants something else entirely, and he knows she can tell. She’s making a choice with her suggestion, quietly giving permission for the thing they don’t acknowledge.
“Yeah,” he says with a nod. It’s not a bad suggestion, and maybe it’s what he was hoping for. “Get some sleep.”
She smiles sweetly at him. “I will. Have fun.”
Dream grabs his phone and his room key and heads out into the hall, pulling up George’s contact as he does.
Rm #?
George responds almost immediately, which makes Dream thing he was waiting for the text. Or at least hoping for it. At the very least, he hasn’t gone to sleep yet, and that means something. Dream heads to the elevator bank and makes his way to George’s room.
“What are you doing?” he asks George once he’s inside, flopping down on one side of the king bed.
“Hi, Dream, welcome, make yourself at home,” George says dryly, crossing to the other side of the bed and lying down.
“I’m paying for it, so it’s technically my room too,” Dream points out.
“Technically,” George repeats. “He’s so technical, guys. Why are you here?”
“Lonely,” Dream says, giving George the most absurd and over the top puppy dog eyes. “Missed you terribly.”
“Sure, sure,” George laughs. “I am pretty great.”
Dream lets his eyes trail slowly down the length of George’s body and then back up. In truth, he may have been practically banished from his own room, but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now. There’s a tension that’s been building between them all evening, from the stream to meaningful looks at dinner to casual touches when they all went out after. It was almost inevitable he’d end up here. He can tell that George feels it too.
George tracks Dream’s eyes as they drink him in, going quiet.
“Why are you in my room at two in the morning, Dream?” he asks, voice soft now.
“You know why,” Dream says, swallowing. George’s eyes meet his.
“Maybe I don’t. Say it.”
He knows George is just fucking with him. Nobody knows him better than George does.
“I want you.”
“Want me what?” George asks, a devious grin spreading across his face. “You want me to suck you down like one of those glizzies from earlier? Kind of presumptuous.”
“Well… I mean… I did give you a lot of tips for technique,” Dream says, catching on. “You might want to practice while they’re fresh.”
“Are you gonna put ketchup on it?”
Dream laughs, and George joins him. They’re staring at each other from across the bed, each one silently daring the other to drop the joke and make a move. Dream gives in first because he always does. He came here for a reason, after all. The smile slips off his lips, and he stares at George with dark eyes.
“Come here.”
George swallows, clearly affected by the change in tone. He’s not ready to give in yet, though.
“What’s in it for me?”
“I’ll buy you a hot dog,” Dream jokes.
“I think I’m worth a little more than that.”
“What, you want me to pay you now?” Dream asks. He knows George is joking, but part of this rubs him wrong, like he’s trying to coerce George into something he doesn’t want to do. He knows that isn’t the case. He wouldn’t be here if George didn’t want it too. If he hadn’t made it abundantly clear a thousand ways all night.
“You’re not my prostitute,” Dream finally says.
“Aren’t I?” George asks, raising an eyebrow.
“More like concubine.” Dream reaches across the vast expanse of the bed and wraps a loose hand around George’s wrist. He presses his thumb into the pulse point, feeling the rapid staccato of his heartbeat.
“Come here.”
George stares at him with dark eyes for a long moment, not making any noises or giving anything away. He likes toying with Dream like this. Likes pretending there’s a chance he’d ever deny Dream something he wants. He won’t. Of course he won’t.
When the moment has passed, George bites his lower lip and crawls across the bed. Dream reaches out and pulls him the rest of the way in, guiding George to straddle him. Once he’s settled, Dream wraps his hands around his waist.
“All I could think about tonight was how I could get you alone for ten minutes. I wanted you so bad.”
“Oh, I know,” George says with an eye roll and a silly grin. “Everyone knows.”
“I guess maybe I was a little obvious,” Dream says. He rubs his hands up and down George’s sides, fingers curling to slip underneath his shirt.
“What did she think?” George asks, ignoring Dream’s hands on his skin. He doesn’t have to specify who. Dream knows. He shakes his head and shrugs.
“You know she doesn’t care.”
“How very convenient for you,” George teases. There’s an expression on his face that Dream can’t quite read, and he doesn’t like that. He needs to know all of George’s expressions, to read every thought that pops into his head. He decides that, for now, he needs to kiss it away.
“It is convenient,” he agrees smugly. He slips his hands out from under George’s shirt and slides them up his back, pulling him in so their lips meet. Any and all games end right there.
George’s lips are chapped and rough, and his stubble scratches Dream’s face. It’s such a wild contrast to the smooth lips and soft skin in the other room. He likes it.
He doesn’t get to have George like this very often, so he pushes thoughts of anyone else out of his mind and focuses on the boy in front of him. George is all man, from his rough lips and stubble to the blunt fingernails digging into Dream’s upper arms and the cock Dream can feel pressing against his stomach, growing heavy as it hardens with the promise of the evening. It’s so good.
“Fuck, George, you’re so good,” Dream whispers when their lips finally part. He slides his hands back down to George’s lower back and encourages him to tip forward even more, to rest his full weight on top of Dream.
George falls forward, resting his arms on Dream’s shoulders, and brings their lips together again. When Dream slides his tongue into George’s mouth, he tastes mint. Underneath that, it’s just George. His own George taste and his own George smell. It drives Dream crazy, and he rocks his hips up into George in response.
George lets out the tiniest, softest gasp and shifts his own hips forward, rutting against Dream’s stomach. Dream tangles his fingers into George’s hair and deepens the kiss, drowning every one of his senses in George.
Kissing George is some kind of liminal space, where time has no meaning, and it’s only the growing ache in his dick and the increasing need for more that makes him aware that time is passing. He wants more—so much more—but there’s also a type of contentment in just this. In kissing and touching George with no frantic destination in mind.
Dream slides his hands down George’s back until they’re resting on the swell of his ass. He squeezes there, but it’s not enough. He slips his hands underneath George’s waistband and tries again, but now his briefs are in the way. He grumbles.
“Bro’s an L,” George chuckles against Dream’s skin. He presses a trail of kisses along the edge of Dream’s jaw, so clearly Dream isn’t so much of an L that it puts him off. Dream just rolls his eyes and laughs.
“Fine,” he says, pushing George’s sweatpants and briefs down just enough to uncover his ass. Now when he puts his hands on it and squeezes, he feels soft, supple flesh responding to his touch. The tiniest of happy sighs escapes his lips. George lifts his head and laughs.
“You’re obsessed with my ass,” he says, looking at Dream with shining, happy eyes.
“Oh, wow, great job figuring that one out,” Dream says, punctuating his sentence with another squeeze. “We should call NYPD, see if they’ll hire you as a detective.”
“You should,” George says. He wriggles a little, repositioning himself the tiniest bit before curling his hips again. Dream feels the heavy weight of George’s hard cock against his hipbone now. He isn’t surprised when George begins rocking his hips in a regular rhythm. “I have great instincts.”
“You do,” Dream agrees easily. "I'll call them first thing tomorrow." He chases George’s lips down, capturing them with his own again. He kisses George deep and greedy, like he’s trying to consume him. George keeps rocking his hips, rutting against Dream as he gets himself off. It drives Dream crazy, and he squeezes George’s ass feeling the muscles flexing underneath his hands as George moves.
Eventually they part for breath and George sits up, staring down at Dream with dark, heavy lidded eyes as he pants. His face is flushed, cheeks rosy for a different reason than before, lips swollen pink. There’s a wet spot on the front of his sweatpants and the outline of his cock is clearly visible. Dream reaches up and cups one of George’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across his lower lip.
“What do you want?” George asks.
Dream closes his eyes for a second and pictures the hundreds of things he wants to do to George and have done to him. But it’s late, and it’s been a long day. There’s something about George rubbing against him like this that’s nice, that scratches some itch in the back of his brain.
“Just… keep doing what you were doing,” he finally says. “Get yourself off like that.”
George raises an eyebrow and gives him a curious smile. “That’s what you want? You just want me to rub against you til I come?”
“Yeah,” Dream groans. When George says it like that, it sounds so fucking hot. It’s exactly what he wants.
George looks at him for a second longer and then lowers himself back down, pressing a trail of kisses down the side of Dream’s neck as he begins rocking his hips again. Dream’s fingers dig into the fat of his ass, encouraging him along.
It’s not wild and passionate, the way it might be if they were fucking, but after a long day, it feels good. It’s hot though. The friction is delicious, and the little noises George is making are so good. Dream stares over George’s shoulder down at his ass, watching it jiggle with each thrust. Who needs porn when you have this?
It continues like that for a while, George’s grinding getting sloppier and more desperate the further along he gets. They’re both sweaty now, and there’s an urgency when they kiss that wasn’t there before. Dream’s dick aches from need, not getting nearly enough stimulation like this, but still being carried along by the smell, taste, and feel of George on him.
It’s too much and not enough, and at last Dream can’t take it anymore. He needs more than the taste of George’s skin on his mouth. He slides his hands to George’s hips, holding them in place until George stops his rocking motion.
“Huh?”
“Wanna suck you,” Dream says, squeezing George’s sides. “Do you have any ketchup?”
George stares at him for a moment, dick dumb, until the words filter through to his brain. Then he laughs. He laughs hard, a loud, happy sound that comes from deep in his belly. He flops over sideways, falling off Dream so he’s lying on his back in the center of the bed.
He’s still laughing when Dream pushes his sweatpants the rest of the way down. When Dream drops down and swallows him in one motion, the laughter dies, and it’s replaced by George’s hand fisting in Dream’s hair.
“Fuck,” George whispers. Dream pops off his dick just for a moment to give him a cheeky smile.
“Never mind,” he says. “You already got it all wet.”
“Shut up,” George groans. Dream feels a steady pressure on the top of his head and takes the hint, lowering his head back down and slowly taking George into his mouth. He goes as deep as he can and then pauses, trying to breathe, before pushing further down, until his nose is buried in George’s pubic hair. He does his best to swallow and is rewarded with fingers tightening in his hair and a raspy gasp from George.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” George moans. “So good, Dream. So good.”
The words go straight to Dream’s dick, which is already aching. The new position has it pressed right against the edge of the mattress, so he begins rutting against it, chasing friction.
He needs to breath, so he finally lifts up and takes a ragged, slobbery breath, still holding the head in his mouth. Then he begins bobbing up and down steadily, reveling in George’s moans and gasps as he brings him closer to his edge.
“Not gonna last long,” George moans as Dream sucks him like a man on a mission. It’s fine with Dream, because he’s not going to last long either. It’s been building for so long, and now he feels like he’s on an express train to the end of the line.
When George comes, he swallows it down greedily, not letting a single drop spill. He keeps sucking until Georg’e dick is twitching in his mouth and George has to push his head off. Dream immediately crawls up the length of George’s body to press a hurried, hot kiss to George’s mouth. He hopes George can taste the sweetness of his own come in Dream’s mouth.
Once the kiss has ended, Dream kneels on the bed and pulls his dick out of his pants. He shoves George’s shirt up, so it’s bunched at the top of his chest, and then jerks himself fast until he’s shooting over George’s stomach.
When he’s finished, he collapses down onto the bed next to George and lets out a happy laugh. George punches his arm.
“Go get me a washcloth or something, freak.”
Dream grins over at George and shakes his head. “No. You look good covered in my come.”
“I’m going to stop letting you come over if you keep being so sloppy.”
Dream slowly pushes himself up. “Next time I’ll just come on your face.”
George scoffs and rolls his eyes. Dream wanders into the bathroom, wets a washcloth, and then tosses it to George. He stretches back out across the bed while George cleans the come off his stomach. When he’s finished, he tosses the rag across the room, pulls up his sweatpants, and then elbows Dream in the ribs.
“Make space, giant.”
“Ow,” Dream says. “You’re so fucking prickly after you come. Most people are soft and sweet after, you know.”
George turns on his side, back facing Dream, and shrugs. “Go fuck them instead.”
Dream sighs and inches up behind George, wrapping an arm around him and tugging him into his body.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Don’t care,” George says.
Dream presses a kiss to his cheek in response. George always shoves up walls in moments like this, but Dream knows how to make him soft again.
“I like your prickles,” he says. He presses a soft kiss just behind George’s ear. “Like everything about you.”
“Shut up,” George says, but his voice is different now, and Dream can just make out a tiny smile at the corners of his lips.
“Mmm,” Dream agrees, fully curling around George now, resting his chin on George’s head. “Shutting up.”
They lie together like that for a while, and Dream feels the heaviness of the day start to weigh his limbs down. He could fall asleep like this. Warm and cozy, George relaxed in his arms. He almost does.
Suddenly, George startles and then he slaps the arm around his waist.
“Dr’m,” he mumbles, pulling away. “You can’t sleep here. Go to bed.”
Dream doesn’t want to get up. Moving from this position, where George is warm and soft against him, and leaving this comfy bed is the furthest thing from his mind. George is right, though. If he stays much longer, he’ll fall asleep. This arrangement only works if they don’t acknowledge it in the cold light of day.
“Mmm,” he says. “I’m going.”
It takes a minute for his limbs to get the message, but he eventually pushes himself up and off the bed. He fights the urge to press a kiss to George’s cheek. They don’t kiss outside of sex, and sex time has passed. Still, he can’t help but run his fingers through George’s hair one last time.
“See you tomorrow,” he says. George mumbles an affirmative and rolls over, wrapping himself in the blankets now that Dream’s not there to keep him warm.
Dream stretches and then lets himself out, pausing to shut off the lights before he goes. He’s pretty sure George is asleep by the time he reaches the door. His mind is blessedly blank, free from troubles as he makes his way down the hallway to the elevator bank, up to his floor, and then to his room. He tries to be quiet as he enters, tiptoeing across the room to the bed.
There’s a thin sliver of light from where the curtains aren’t entirely closed, providing just enough light that Dream can make shapes out in the darkness. He can see her in bed, watching her sleep as he strips his jeans and t-shirt off and then climbs in next to her. He thought she was asleep, but once he’s settled she rolls over to curl against him.
“Sleepy now?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he says in a soft breath, wrapping an arm around her. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to her mouth. She parts her lips just a bit, so Dream can kiss deeper, but then a hand presses on his chest, pushing him away.
“At least brush your teeth after sucking his dick, Clay. Try to pretend.”
He’s not sure what to say to that. They both knew what was going to happen when he went to George. She was the one who sent him, after all. But they don’t talk about it. They don’t address it. Acknowledging it would make it real, and then it would make things complicated. Neither of them wants complicated. None of them want complicated.
“Sorry,” he says after a quiet moment. “Didn’t think about it.” He gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom, brushing every last molecule of George away before returning to her bed.
“Better,” she says, giving him a gentle kiss. “Now sleep.”
He sleeps but, as always, he dreams of George.
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