Chapter Text
Is Hob regretting his previous promise to Dream that he is "yours to command"? No, he is not. He is, however, regretting the fact that he's definitely going to need to have his sofa professionally deep cleaned. Or possibly replaced altogether.
A small price to pay for the indescribable heights of bliss that Dream is driving him slowly towards. Slowly being the operative word.
Dream’s large hands grip the cheeks of his arse and spread him open so that he can watch the first few inches of his cock disappear in and out of Hob’s body. It's a little ridiculous, how easy he finds it to hold all of Hob’s not inconsiderable weight with barely a flex of his fingers. It makes Hob feel little in a way that he never has before. Bouncing up and down on Dream’s lap like he's nothing more than a toy, listening to the tell-tale squelch of lube as his body sucks the thickness of Dream’s cock back in each time… Every single one of his senses is totally engaged and tingling with expectation of whatever might come next.
Dream still hasn't cum, and Hob has had enough experience of his lover's stamina to know that Dream could choose to fuck him all the way into the morning without ever reaching orgasm. Dream does whatever he likes with his own body, and now apparently that extends to Hob’s body too. His cock is valiantly twitching back into hardness, red and oversensitive but desperately trying to get back with the program. He can feel Dream smiling indulgently into the arch of his neck.
A rosy fingered dawn is already creeping slowly over the windowsill and casting the room in a pale glow. Hob thinks that Dream would look beautiful with that light sprawled over him, but he can barely catch a glimpse of his lover from this angle. Dream has kept Hob very stubbornly in the reverse cowgirl position, meaning of course that Dream can see all of Hob, while Hob gets to see almost nothing of him. It's very unfair, but every time Hob gets close to complaining, Dream interrupts him by sliding an extra finger into his hole alongside his cock.
"You're getting loose, my love." Dream says idly. "If I cum inside you, will you be able to stop it from leaking out? I think I want you full. It would be a shame to see you waste anything."
Hob feels like he wants to bite something, but his lower lip is already bleeding. "If I'm loose, it's your fault." He hisses. "I can keep it in. Just watch me."
Dream laughs, teasing one finger around Hob’s oversensitive rim. "Clench up for me, then. I will be watching."
Hob’s thighs tremble but he does as he's told and tightens up every inner muscle until Dream groans appreciatively. He thrusts his cock shaĺlowly in and out, dragging over the tender walls of Hob’s body until they both cry out, almost at the same moment. The feeling is enough to coax Hob back into full hardness. Dream had finally stripped him of his t-shirt after his first orgasm so his cock bounces against his bare stomach and spreads pre-cum over his skin.
“C’mon.” He whines. He’s wriggling in Dream’s lap, and he’s never really thought of himself as particularly bratty before, but he’s sure if Dream doesn’t cum in him soon he’s going to pout and huff until he gets what he wants. “Give it to me!”
Dream sighs as though the whole thing is rather tiresome to him. His hand smooths down Hob’s chest and cups over his belly, stroking him like a favourite pet and holding him still at the same time. Hob actually feels the twitch of Dream’s cock inside him as he grinds in deep one more time, and finally chooses to cum.
It suddenly gets very difficult for Hob to focus on his appointed task of keeping himself clenched and tight. Dream’s cum is hotter than any human’s would be, and it seems to flood everywhere in enthusiastic spurts. It’s distractingly pleasurable to be filled up with something so warm, especially when it doesn’t stop. But Hob feels himself begin to tremble with the exertion of keeping it all inside. And just when he thinks he’s got a grip on himself, as long as Dream doesn’t move for a while, as long as there isn’t much more of it coming — Dream clamps his cold hand down tightly on Hob’s lower belly and pushes .
Hob makes an undignified shrieking sound that is definitely more like a territorial tomcat than a human (thank goodness Dream is probably into that). He feels the warm, sticky fluid dripping past his rim and down between his thighs. Apparently even the base of Dream’s thick cock isn’t enough to keep him plugged sufficiently, because he’s leaking like a damn faucet and it’s going everywhere .
“Oh dear.” Dream says, smug as anything. He bites affectionately at the lobe of Hob’s ear. Somehow his cock is already growing hard again, as though he hasn’t just blown Niagara Falls into Hob’s arse. “I thought you intended to keep it in?”
“Yeah.” Hob says faintly, staring down between his legs. “Sorry about that.”
Dream pets his hair back out of his face gently with a surprisingly clean and dry hand. He lays a trail of kisses over Hob’s neck and shoulders, until he is quite literally melting back into Dream’s solid chest. “No matter, my love.” Dream whispers. “I think I prefer you like this. Messy and slick, completely ready for me to be inside you again. You smell like me now, pet. It will be a long time before that scent washes away.”
Hob whines and arches his back. If he shuffles just an inch or two, Dream’s cock will rub right into his prostate. Inside he feels wet and full but he wants more, and he just knows that Dream isn’t done with him yet.
“Is that all you’ve got for me?” He asks, sweet and breathless. He ruts down to drive Dream’s cock in deeper, feeling a rumble of pleasure echo through his lover in reaction. “Aren’t you going to breed me, love? Make me full of your spend?”
Dream growls and his claws tighten on Hob’s waist, littering his tanned skin with little white marks. Hob is once again reminded of just how big Dream is in this form — the broad chest, the long pale limbs, the shaggy head of night-black hair. More of an animal or a weather event than a human being, and that’s the way Hob likes him.
“You ask for so much, my dearest love.” Dream’s voice is deep and grating, full of teeth. His hands drop to Hob’s thighs and spread him wider until the stretch aches and another little waterfall of cum escapes from his hole. The loss of it has him mewling pathetically. “And yet I can never deny you your pleasure when you open yourself so eagerly for me.”
Dream’s hands grip and push, forcing Hob from his lap and onto the carpeted floor. He bends over the low coffee table and holds tightly onto the solid wood of it, and Dream comes up behind him to trace the line of his spine from neck to arse with one long fingertip. “Are you quite comfortable, my love?” He cooes into Hob’s ear.
“I will be.” Hob murmurs, turning his head to the side. He finally gets a proper look at Dream then. His face is white in the dawn light, his lips drawn into a cruel little smile. His velvet black eyes lock onto Hob’s face and the whole line of his body softens slightly. “Oh, how I love you.” Hob murmurs, and allows his eyes to slip closed.
Dream’s lips meet the wing of Hob’s left shoulder blade, where an old white scar stands out against the skin. The kiss is sweet and tender in comparison to the harsh grip he takes on Hob’s arse, using his thumbs to dig in and spread the cheeks wide once more. Hob feels that he must be gaping open, sticky and leaking. Dream’s fingers move in greedily, spearing Hob’s body and pushing in deep and hard. The sound of it is filthy and wet.
“So full already, my sweet, and always asking for more.” He sighs, leans down to Hob’s arse, and licks at his hole with the very tip of his tongue. “You will get what it is that you desire.”
When Dream’s warm cock presses again at the gape of his hole, Hob feels himself tremble. Stretched and ready as he is, the thickness of it still makes his eyes water. But it’s only a few seconds before the tingle and stretch gives way to a burning need and he hitches himself backwards to meet the final few inches of Dream’s length. “S’good, love.” He pants softly into the solid surface of the coffee table. “So good to me.”
This time Dream’s thrusts are hard and insistent, like a king laying claim to his territory. Hob’s body is sturdy and strong, and he takes every rough push of Dream’s hips without complaining. He loves the way that impossibly beautiful cock can barely fit inside him. Loves the lewd bulge of it in his stomach, rearranging his body from the inside. It’s all fuel to the fire in his loins. His tongue hangs out and drool spreads down over his chin, and he thinks that no one in his overlong life has ever made him feel so thoroughly fucked . He wants to tell Dream so, but his voice is all but gone, and all he can manage is a thoroughly wrecked little moan.
Dream’s hands come back down and rest against his belly again, drawn in like there’s some kind of magnetic field involved. His thumbs dig into the bruises already forming there as though to be sure that the marks will last. Each time his cock bottoms out and the bulge of it becomes evident in the skin of Hob’s stomach, Dream hisses out a soft sound of triumph. He seems to relish the act of claiming and owning just as much Hob does, if not more. His teeth gnaw into Hob’s shoulder, needle sharp.
He doesn’t hold out on Hob, this time. His thrusts quickly grow more erratic and try to drive deeper, grinding into his prostate until Hob mixes tears in with his drool and sobs through the raw stimulation. He hopes, prays that Dream is chasing down his orgasm. He wants to feel that hot flood of cum again, to feel the big cock inside him twitch and drip. He arches his back into every move Dream makes and clenches his trembling inner walls as best he can.
Dream makes an involuntary sound, half gasp and half grunt as he slams his cock in with a roughness he doesn’t even intend. His hands go bone-shakingly tight over Hob’s waist and he bites hard into the meat of his shoulder. Hob yelps out as his own cock twitches into an unplanned and untouched orgasm. He can only tremble through it, wondering when Dream leaving him bruised and bloodied became such a massive turn on.
Mirroring him and never intending to be outdone, Dream whines and shudders into the beginning of his own orgasm. He’s still gripping onto Hob like he’s afraid he might fly away, and he uses that grip to pull him closer and closer. Hob ends up draped upright in Dream’s arms again, sweating and shaking as rope after rope of Dream’s seed pumps into his waiting body. He feels feverish and when he glances down to see his lower belly bowed out, bloated with too much , he nearly passes out. A dry and almost painful orgasm rips again through his spent body while Dream watches and purrs a happy moan into the crook of his neck.
Hob collapses, drained, against the solidity of Dream’s larger body. A big, cold hand rubs comfortingly over his stomach while cool lips press against his temple. It’s safe to rest there, to simply become a being of pleasure and satisfaction.
He takes a brief inventory of his body. His limbs are trembling, but all in the right places. Bruises throb in a few locations around his waist and thighs. His arse aches in all kinds of new and interesting ways. In general, he feels like he’s won the bloody lottery. He gropes around blindly until he finds Dream’s hand and links their fingers together tightly. Dream squeezes his hand carefully and wraps him in a tighter, softer embrace.
“Fuck, I do love it when you get big.” Hob sighs, when his voice finally gets back into action. He can feel Dream finally going soft inside him, for real this time, and he wonders privately to himself if it’s possible to get spunk out of wool mix carpet with bi-carb.
“I’m beginning to realise that.” Dream says, and Hob thinks that for once, the Lord of Dreams almost sounds tired. “Would you like me to put a plug inside you? It would be less trouble to clean up, and knowing you as I do, I think you might find it pleasurable.”
Although perhaps he isn’t that tired. Hob allows his forehead to thump down onto the cool wood of the coffee table. He needs a three day nap before he can even think about sex again, let alone do anything that involves having Dream’s stupidly enormous cock in him.
The very tips of Dream’s claws ghost over the tender skin of Hob’s stomach, quite by accident of course. When Hob looks down again and sees the little bloated curve of his lower belly, his brain glitches and his heart flip-flops in his chest.
“…Fuck, yeah, go on then.”