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Don’t pity him .
That’s what The Corinthian had warned her when she imprisoned him, Dream. Morpheus. The Corinthian had wanted her to kill him. She suspected Morpheus would prefer death to… this too, but that wasn’t an option.
Not to Rose.
Still, he’s starring as her antagonist. It’s hard not to think of him. Better to write out her feelings though. Not let them eat at her.
The Corinthian enters silently. Dreams had no obligation to abide by the laws of physics, nor nightmares. He was usually good about knocking, but not today. She ignores him as he saunters towards her desk, eyes focused on the screen of her laptop and a word doc that hadn’t seen progress in the past half hour. He sits at the edge of her desk. All the casual confidence of a man who had won. Won more than his little war against Dream. “You get any writing done?” He asks with a characteristic grin. His smile, The Corinthian’s, was the kind that was all but unnerving when it was a real one. He wore the glasses inside still, didn’t bare his eyes even to her, but it was the kind of smile that wrinkles his crow’s feet.
“I’m trying to.” She sighs, taking her blue light glasses off and rubbing at her eyes. “I would, if you’d quit pestering me.”
He reaches towards her, brushes a stray loc from her face. “Let me give you some… inspiration .”
Rose Walker had given up entirely on writing in bed because of The Corinthian’s particular kind of inspiration . If she’d reached her word count for the day, she’d have let him distract her. The Corinthian was a spectacular distraction. Consistent, a bit needy, but always willing to help her forget the people she’d hurt to survive. “I’m not writing a romance.”
“Then make me your villain, Rosebud.” He drawls, rising with ease and circling behind her.
“You already are.” She calls out, not bothering to look back as she stares at the half blank screen before her.
“You wound me.” He pouts, hands just resting on her shoulders.
Rose scoffs. “Bleed out, then. I’m busy.”
He leans over, mouthing at the patch of bare skin between her t-shirt and neck. She tenses, not in fear (as she should, though the two of them were far beyond fear at this point). His eyes flit to the screen and he grins against her upon spotting the keysmash of letters. “You’re not gonna get any work done while you’re like this. May as well let me make you feel better.”
“You—“ Rose huffs, slamming her laptop shut as one of his hands snakes around her side and palms at a breast through her shirt. “You’re the one making me feel like this!” She accuses.
“I am.” He admits, kind of humming against her. “You angry with me? Gonna punish me for my impertinence. ” Dream would. Not that he’d get this far with Dream. His creator was always quick to punish.
But Rose Walker was not Dream of The Endless. “No… no , you’re going to do your job.” She says firmly, pulling away just enough to rise herself. Even standing, she was still miles shorter than him. Or, at least, that’s what it always felt like.
“You want me to scare you?” The Corinthian asks petulantly, suppressing a laugh. She eyes him, arms crossed against her chest. He manages only a moment before relenting with a swallow. “ Yes ma’am. ”
He hesitates for but a moment before kissing her.
The Corinthian wasn’t a gentle kisser. At least, not when he was like this. He kisses like he wants to fight. Teeth against teeth till something chips. But Rose Walker, even in her relative inexperience, is not so easy to subdue. She lets him kiss her like that, sort of attacks him with her mouth too. But when she wants him to slow, he slows .
She was The Vortex, after all. Capable of creating entire worlds or destroying them. Especially dreams. And The Corinthian, despite his independence, was made of nothing but dreams. She could kill him, if she wanted to. Not just unmake him, really kill him. Not that she would. She wasn’t a killer. Not like him. Not like Dream.
She pulls away then. “Is Jed asleep?” She whispers.
“ Rosebud .” He hums, nodding towards the clock.
2:37 AM
“ Shit .” She sighs, resting her head on his chest. “I’ve got that workshop tomorrow at 9 and I have to walk Jed to school at 7 and—“
“That’s probably why you should go to bed now.” He coos, grasping her chin.
“I’m sure that’s why you want to get me to bed.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I don’t have to make excuses about why I want you in bed, Rosie.” He doesn’t release her, cups her jaw with his hand and runs his thumb across the high point of her cheek. Waits for her to give him the go.
The Corinthian was many contradictions at once. At least, to Rose Walker, he is. When her dad had gotten what he’d wanted from her mom, he’d left. Miranda Walker was at least smart enough to not make that mistake twice, and the few men she’d tried to date after that fizzled out before getting to that point. But that kind of thing stuck with Rose. That men could so easily use somebody until they were done, and discard them as though it were nothing. Even if he didn’t mean to, that’s what Dream would have done if he’d succeeded. Used her to track down his missing dreams and then killed her when her power grew beyond his convenience. The Corinthian was a far worse man. Or, at least, far more immediately terrifying. But though he had already gotten what he’d wanted from her, a defeated Dream, he still lingered.
At first he only ever dropped in. She’d come home from running out to the bodega to find Jed excitedly telling him about his day at school. Or she’d be shopping her manuscript around New York and spot him across the street. She wasn’t sure where he lived, if anywhere. But even if she didn’t spot him, she’d recognize his car anywhere.
Eventually, he started coming around enough that he was at the apartment more often then he wasn’t. He didn’t really have things, other than his car and phone, but he’d basically moved in. Not that she minded, Rose. Not like she talk about the truth of what she was to anyone but him. Even when Lyta wasn’t busy with the baby, there were things about The Dreaming and what Rose had to do to save herself that she’d never understand.
The Corinthian did, though. Or else he was very good at pretending.
She covers his hand with hers, tugging it from her cheek and squeezing it reassuringly. “Come on.” She whispers, tugging him back towards her bed. The door was still closed, he’d never opened it, and Jed was fast asleep in his room.
The Corinthian doesn’t need much convincing. Smiles a smile that’s all stark white sharp teeth. Follows like a dog with a dead bird desperate to please its owner. “You really gotta stop staying up late, Rosie. It’s no good for you.”
“Yeah, well… neither is sleeping.” She mutters, toeing off her slippers and sitting at the edge of her bed.
“It’ll get better with time.” He assures, looming over her for a moment before bending down to capture her mouth again. “Not everyone in The Dreaming is loyal to him. I’m not.” He mouths at her jaw, tracing his lips down the column of her neck.
Rose sighs wistfully, relaxing for the first time in hours. She hadn’t realized it until that moment, but there was a tension in her jaw and shoulders she was only now releasing. He works his way to the crook of her neck, leaning over her and slotting a knee between hers. She groans, only softly. Grasps the back of his head with one hand as she tries to push off the jacket of his suit with the other. Without missing a beat, he tears it off and lets it fall to the ground. He sucks at that spot between her shoulder and throat, wants to go lower, she knows. He pauses, tilts his head up to make puppy dog eyes at her till she lets him lower. Not that she could see his eyes, but he was incredibly expressive even with the glasses.
“Well, go on.” She says, looking down at him with a tired smile. “You interrupted my writing for a reason, didn’t you?”
He nods enthusiastically. Rolls up his sleeves and tugs at her t-shirt until she raises her arms and lets him pull it off entirely. He loved this part. Well, he loved every part. There was a kind of danger to messing around with her, The Vortex. Not that she’d hurt him. She couldn’t hurt a fly, Rose Walker. They’d have to work on that bit together. She’d need to be a bit more ruthless if she was going to survive. Dream wasn’t going to be contained forever. But this ? This bit was extra. An act of devotion. Or, perhaps, a way to devour her. Maybe both. The Corinthian existed in that fine grey space between things. A man, a nightmare. A monster, but more human than his creator. A lover and corruptive force all in one.
Whatever she needed. Whatever she wouldn’t so easily discard. He would be. After all, Dream would have already unmade him if he’d gotten the chance. Rose Walker had more than enough chances to end him, and had instead allowed him a place in her life.
He unclasps her bra with ease. It was just a simple thing, nude and loose. She didn’t dress for him. He didn’t care. He leaves a trail of kisses down her sternum, down her stomach. Gooseflesh follows his trail, and he’d be a liar if he said it didn’t thrill him that he had that kind of effect on her. Rose found him attractive physically, always had, but she was clever enough not to let that cloud her judgement. When they were like this. Flesh against flesh. Vortex against Nightmare. It was choice made of far more than carnal desire. That kind of desire was foreign to him. Foreign to the both of them, really. And he didn’t realize how much he’d grow to crave it until he had it.
He tugs at her shorts, kneeling before her and desperate to show his devotion. She cups his cheek, nods. He pulls them down entirely, her boyshorts with them. He mouths at her inner thigh, tracing a lazy path from her knee to her core that seems to get lost along the way.
Rose lets herself fall against the mattress with a dull thud . He was good at this part, The Corinthian. Leagues better than the half-drunk frat boys and wannabe intellectuals at college. Not that any of them had ever gotten this far. She hadn’t let them. But she lets him. More than lets him. That loneliness in her. That isolation that had been gnawing at her since her mom died. Since she defeated Dream, didn’t fade when she moved back with Jed. Even with Jed and Lyta and Hal and Carl, there was a part of herself she couldn’t ever quite lay bare. A part of her that starved for being unseen. He saw it, though. Saw bits of her that were too dark and dirty and bad to ever see the light of day.
“You doing okay up there, Rosie?” He asks from his kneeling position, resting his cheek on her inner thigh.
“Just thinking.” She muses mindlessly, nails scratching his scalp as she runs her hands through his hair.
“Well, that’s no good. All you do is think.” He rests a hand on her thigh, the other circling her clit slowly. “You’re too smart for your own good, sometimes.”
Rose groans, hips moving against his hand. “I’d be dead, otherwise.”
“ Hmm . That you would.” He circles her clit again, adding just a feather’s touch more pressure and grinning like the devil. “All this for me, Rosie?” Rose grunts, nods. “Well, thank you .” He licks a long stripe from her entrance to her clit and hums. Her thighs tense, trapping his head there. He wonders if he’d suffocate if he were a man. Luckily, nightmares didn’t need to breathe. And he’d choke before he’d deny her anyways. He sucks at her clit, laving at it with the broad part of his tongue. Relentless, as he was in all things, she whimpers above him. Even when she was trying to keep quiet, Rose Walker was an intensely vocal creature. He’d been in the mood all evening, but that sound out of her always makes his cock stir. He could take off his pants, if he wanted. Wave them away. But the pressure helped him focus.
It was times like this he wished he didn’t wear the glasses. He wanted her to see him. Really see him. See the ways the monstrous parts of him bend and twist for her. Wants his eyes to meet hers as he devours her.
Not tonight though. It still felt too soon. And he didn’t think he could bear it if she rejected him now.
Her nails dig deep into his scalp as she pulls him against her. She was by no means a violent lover, but times like this were a frequent exception. He liked to tease her. Keep her there in that grey space between pleasure and frustration. But she had little patience. Most humans did. He attributed it to their short lifespans.
He groans against her, can feel the way the skin of her thighs rises in gooseflesh at the vibrations. He enters with just a single finger, draws the wealth of wetness directly into his mouth as he licks from her entrance to her clit again. Rose bucks against him, muscles taught as she tries to press herself against him again. He obliges, enters her against with two fingers. Makes a come hither motion as he sucks at her clit. Chuckles against her when she mewls softly.
He does it again, hits that spot inside her with his tongue against her clit. He could do this for hours, if he wanted. He would, if they had the time. But Rose really did need to sleep. He continues that motion with his fingers, keeping a steady pace as he sucks at her clit. She pulls him harder against him, kind of humps his face. As much as she could in her position. So eager and wanton. He admired the enthusiasm.
She suppresses a howl when he enters her with a third finger. It wasn’t a painful stretch, but borders on uncomfortable in a way that only intensifies the pleasure that was already crashing over her. He was good at that kind of thing, The Corinthian, discomfort that bordered on the edge of release. It’s almost too much, but she can’t stop from pressing herself against him again. His free hand travels from the top of her thigh, up her side until she takes it in hers. One hand enmeshed in his blond locks, the other grasping at his, she squeezes it with an intensity that could probably snap bone if he had any.
He licks at her clit almost timidly as she builds towards her climax, letting his fingers do their work until she’s ready to burst. Her head digs into the mattress as her entirety begins to tense. She pulls his head against her cunt again, can feel him grin against her.
“ Rose .” He calls out softly, not relenting in his work. He looks up. The image of her heated form writhing against the mattress is a sight to be seen, but not the one he wants. “ Rosie, look at me .” He ain’t exactly in the position to be making demands, but she obliges him regardless. Sees the way her wetness glistens on his face. If she weren’t already painfully aroused, that would’ve done it. He latches onto her clit once again she finally looks. Can’t help but be enamored with the way she struggles to keep her eyes open as she cums. But she does. Maybe because the sight of him beneath her is just as exciting to her as the image of her above him is to him. Maybe because she knows he wants to see her when it happens. They so often wanted the same things, the two of them. Even if for different reasons.
Her climax crashes over her in waves. She flutters around his fingers, hyper-sensitive when he chuckles against her. He was always like that when he made her cum. Sort of smug. She didn’t mind it, though. It was a sickly kind of sweet he took her pleasure as a challenge and not an option. She hadn’t even touched him tonight. He remains down there for a moment. Cleans her up with his mouth. Kisses his way back up her body and hardly tastes like her by the time he gets back to her lips. How considerate.
She becomes distinctly aware of his erection when it presses against her thigh. She raises her leg just a little. Muscles like jelly, she still can’t help but tease him. He was still mostly clothed, it was only fair.
“Do you want to…” She trails off lazily, kissing him.
He nods, pulls off his shirt. “Want you to do it.” He confesses against her lips.
“Okay.” She agrees, tries to undo his belt with one hand as her other holds his. She gives up, releasing him and undoing his pants with the help of both hands.
He just watches her. Watches with an intensity to rival the sun. Captures her mouth in his and grunts as she finally frees his cock. He kicks off his pants, holds himself up as she strokes him, and moans. He was usually more in control here. In the past he’d bark for them to go faster. Maybe rut into their mouth. But The Vortex was a force to be reckoned with, and there was a kind of pleasure in letting go. She strokes him again. Runs her thumb across the tip and grasps it harder as she jerks him off. He was already close enough from eating her out, but feeling her hand around him as he buries his face in the crook of her shoulder is enough to send him over the edge.
He grunts. Kind of cries out and muffles the sound against her as he spills. It takes a bit of will power not to just collapse against her and make the white mess on her stomach even worse. But he manages it, presses his forehead against her and just breathes .
“ Rosebud… ” He hums. Kisses her again. The kind of kiss that smushes their noses together. He cups her cheek, face only inches from hers when he pulls back. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Rose Walker.”
“Don’t say that.” She insists, serious despite the obvious playfulness in his voice. “I don’t want to be the death of anyone.”
He kisses her again. “And whatever The Vortex dreams shall come true.” He promises, and it’s not a lie. Not necessarily. Dreams had power over the waking world. And no one had a dreaming power like hers. He lets out a satisfied sigh, watches her for a moment more before getting up. “Stay here.”
“Where are you going?” Rose asks, sitting up awkwardly to watch him.
He ducks into the attached bathroom, wets a washcloth with warm water. “I’m not going anywhere.” He assures, and that’s as honest as anything that came out of his mouth was capable of being. He returns, sits beside her as he cleans up the mess he made. “You know how pretty you look like this?” He muses softly.
“Covered in your cum?” She questions frankly.
He sucks at his teeth. “Don’t be crass. Like this .” He insists, pulling the cloth away when he finished cleaning and observing her bare form.
“You talk a lot.” She says after a moment. “You’re lucky you’ve got a nice voice.”
“ Thank you .” He nods, rising again and discarding the wet wash cloth in the bathroom. When he returns, he picks up her pajamas from where she’d discarded them on the floor and tosses them to her. He in turn only pulls up his boxers, but he hadn’t exactly brought pajamas himself.
She doesn’t bother to ask if he’s leaving. He never does. Not like this, at least. Sometimes in the morning if he had things to do. But not right after. It’d be harder for her to need him if he left too soon, that much he knew. He climbs into bed silently. Let’s her cuddle up to his side and kisses her forehead when she relaxes against him.
“You leaving in the morning?” She asks with a yawn.
He shrugs. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.” She admits.
“Then, no.” He assures.
When she wakes, though, she’s alone.
And it’s 8:13 AM.
Shit .
“Jed!” She calls out, pulling her bathrobe around her as she rushes from her room. “Jed, get up! We’re late!” She raises her hand to pound at his door, but is interrupted.
“He’s already there.” The Corinthian greets casually. “I walked him. Wanted to give you a chance to sleep a little more.”
Rose turns. “Does he have his—“
“Permission slip? Yep. He’s a clever kid, you know.” He backs away towards the kitchen, and she follows.
Rose can’t help but smile a bit at the eggs he had made her. They weren’t all that special, but ever since becoming Jed’s guardian, having someone take care of her was a rarity.
And, well, he was probably the first man to do so in… ever . Not like her dad was a particular expert in childcare.
“Thanks.” She says simply, sitting at the spot he’d made her.
“It’s nothing.” He insists, leaning against the counter as she eats. “He’s a good kid. Eggs are easy.”
“He was a good kid when my dad was raising him too. He didn’t do things like this.” She huffs through a mouthful of eggs.
He lets out a kind of hmm sound. “Well if you don’t mind me insulting your parentage, Rose Walker, your daddy sounds like a cunt. It’s a wonder you or Jed turned out like you did.”
Rose almost chokes on her eggs trying not to laugh. “ Thanks? ”
“You’re very welcome, Rose Walker.” He smiles softly. “We are so often everything but what our creators intended for us. But that’s the beauty of freedom, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is.” She agrees reluctantly.
“He’s too old for you.” Hal says it in that catty kind of half serious way.
Rose laughs. He doesn’t even know. “Is he too old for me, or are you jealous?”
“Yes and yes, but I’m not wrong.” He purses his lips, sips at his mimosa.
“Aren’t you and Carl together?” Rose questions, eyeing him.
Hal nods. “ Mmm, and that’s another thing. Those two totally banged while you were away. I think he might be a bit slutty.”
“Carl?”
“No. Well, yes . But your man too.” He raises his empty glass, taking full advantage of the bottomless brunch. “I’d keep a close eye on him if I were you. Whatever his name is .”
“His name is…” She thinks for a moment. Knows she probably shouldn’t introduce him to her friends as The Corinthian . “Cori.”
Hal eyes her. “Cory! See? Slutty name .”
Rose giggles. “He’s good with Jed. Really good. I mean, what guy my age is going to be willing to help raise a kid?”
Hal rolls his eyes. “You may have me there. But watch yourself, Rose Walker. Men can break more than hearts.”
“Maybe you’d feel different if you met him?” She offers hesitantly.
“I have met him.” The waiter fills his glass, and he sips at his mimosa once more.
Rose hums. “Maybe I could throw a housewarming party? Since we had to hop apartments so Jed could have his own room?”
“You know, I think that’s a wonderful idea. Boy-toy aside, I love a party.” Hal grins.
Rose smiles too. Clinks their glasses together and frowns when she spots a raven in the window.