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“I just don’t want to do it,” George argues with a groan, flopping face down onto the sofa as dramatically as he can. “I want to go to bed and then wake up tomorrow morning with you having done it.”
It’s not his fault that editing is hard for him. It’s also not his fault that finding an editor he likes is also hard for him. Editing is just one of those things that ends up taking way longer than it needs to because he gets so in his head over it, and it’s way easier to simply hand it off to the only other person on Earth that he trusts to do it up to his standards.
Dream sighs, weary, and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes while the microwave whirs along behind him. “I thought we weren’t doing this anymore?” he asks.
George shrugs, shuffling up to hang his arms over the back of the couch so he can stare Dream down. “I know, but talking about it on stream reminded me how epic it was when you would edit for me. Like, I’d just send you the files, forget about them, and then bam! You’d send me the finished product.”
The microwave dings, and Dream turns away, pulling out his dinner. “George,” he scolds, setting the plate on the counter and grabbing a fork, “I’m not just going to edit for you, I have my own shit to do.”
“Oh, come on,” George whines, rolling over the back of the sofa and letting himself flop heavily to the floor, “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“No you won’t, “Dream scoffs as he sits at the counter, pushing his food around his plate aimlessly, “I have nothing to leverage anymore, you’ll just take all my hard work and scamper off with it.”
Snorting, George spreads out, starfishing on the floor. While that’s true, there’s no longer things like MCC for him to promise tryharding at in exchange for editing services, he does have a few new plays up his sleeve. Things that weren’t available to him back then, when they were separated by so much more than the four thousand miles between them.
Back when he hadn’t felt that zap to his nerves that comes with Dream’s touch. Back when flirty jokes hadn’t ended with heated eye contact, flushed cheeks, and flustered clearing of throats. Before Dream’s chain lay around his neck as an unspoken claim.
“Maybe you don’t have leverage anymore,” George agrees, slowly sitting up and crossing his legs, “but I have some.”
“Oh yeah?” Dream asks, sounding unconvinced as he pops some food into his mouth, his brows raised. “How do you figure that?”
“Well,” George starts, clearing his throat as he stands before dusting his palms off on his pants and making his way into the kitchen, “I happen to know you have some needs that aren’t getting met lately. Maybe I could meet those for you.”
Dream frowns for a moment, then his cheeks turn cherry red.
The smirk that takes over George’s face can’t be helped; nothing in Florida has brought him greater joy than seeing the effects of his flirty taunts on Dream in the flesh. Just hearing it in Dream’s voice had been enough to get him riled up back in London, ending with him leaving more than one call hard and pent up, but this? The way Dream’s pupils dilate, how his whole face flushes, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to keep his breathing as even as he can, it all is just– it’s a wonder George doesn’t have to immediately run off for a cold shower every time.
“Who says my needs aren’t getting met?” Dream challenges, his voice a little raspy.
George shrugs again, throwing a grin over his shoulder as he walks over to the fridge. “We live together, idiot. You never leave, and no one comes over. Unless you’ve gone back to your e-sex roots, you’re in one hell of a dry spell.”
He turns away from Dream as he reaches into the fridge, making a show of bending over much farther than necessary to grab a fresh bottle of water for himself. Dream scoffs and splutters behind him, but George just subtly sways his hips. He’s no fool, he’s seen how affected Dream gets by his ass. It’s his strongest asset in convincing Dream to agree to this arrangement and he knows it.
When he can’t realistically pass off the move as a simple reach for water any longer, George stands back up and bumps the fridge door shut with his hip. “So, Dream,” he starts, uncapping the bottle and taking a long drink, allowing a thin rivulet of water to flow down his chin and onto his throat, “have we got a deal?”
Dream’s dinner is now going untouched, his hands instead locked onto the edges of the counter in a white knuckled grip. “What do you even–” he starts, before shaking his head with a hiss and shoving out of his chair, backing across the kitchen until he hits the far counter, “what does that even mean?”
George softens slightly, sensing some genuine worry in the lines of Dream’s face and the way he’s rhythmically cracking his knuckles. “It can mean a lot of things,” he says simply, setting his water down and rounding the island to stand in front of Dream, leaving just a few feet between them. Far enough to pass off as platonic, but close enough to imply it doesn’t need to stay that way. “It would be up to you to cash in how you like.”
“But you’d–” Dream starts again, cutting himself off worriedly and looking up to the ceiling, “but you’d, what? Give me a handjob? Suck me off? Or could I–”
“Or you could fuck me, yeah,” George finishes for him, his smirk returning. “But if you’d rather me fuck you, I could do that too.”
Dream opens and closes his mouth a few times without making a sound, then whines low in his throat, turns on his heel, and races off to his office without another word.
~~~
Incoming Message from Dream: send me the files
and shut up
just don't say a word until it’s done
~~~
George hasn’t seen hide nor hair of Dream in nearly a week. His food has been disappearing from the fridge, and he’s been reacting to messages in the Dream Team group chat, but aside from that there has been no sign of a third man living in this house. Even Patches isn't disappearing into his room or office as she usually does throughout the day.
“Have you talked to him?” George asks Sapnap one evening while they’re watching a movie in the theatre room. He’s beginning to get a little worried, and is starting to wonder if he crossed a line and accidentally made Dream uncomfortable. If maybe Dream’s absence is on his shoulders.
“Nope,” Sapnap says, popping the word on his lips, “all I’ve heard from him is that he’s balls deep in some editing project, but he wouldn’t tell me what it is. That was, like, days ago, too.”
“Oh,” George mumbles, turning back to the screen where some shitty action movie plays. He supposes that’s not the worst answer Sapnap could give, Dream could have told him he’s avoiding George, or that he is unhappy or something. Just editing is, well, it’s expected, to a degree.
It’s just that George wouldn’t have expected this video to take this long to edit, is all. Knowing how Dream edits, and how quick he usually is with it, George had thought that he'd be receiving a finished video in a weekend. Three days, tops. And he certainly didn’t expect for Dream to up and disappear, either.
“Don’t worry about it, man,” Sapnap says, reaching over to pat George on the chest, “you know him, he never goes this silent when he’s sulking, only when he’s locked in. He’s fine.”
That’s true. Usually when he’s upset, Dream comes to find them and talk it out. They sit in the living room and debrief for hours, talking circles around every angle and analysis until Dream feels the weight lift off his chest and knows what he wants to do. He doesn’t lock himself away from everyone, and especially not from Patches, for this long. No, this kind of recluse behaviour is hyperfixation Dream territory.
Sighing, George swats Sapnap’s hand away with much less venom than he usually would. “You’re right,” he says, “I just hope he finishes up soon. It’s getting annoying not having him around.”
“You’re telling me,” Sapnap mutters, “I have had Patches yowling outside my door at six in the morning the last two days because Dream hasn’t let her in to sleep with him. He needs to chill out soon or I swear, I’ll break in at dawn and dump Milo’s litter box on him while he sleeps.”
George snorts. “Do it anyways, that’s hilarious.”
Sapnap sits up straighter for a moment, grinning like he’s considering it, then rolls his eyes and slumps back into his seat. “Better not,” he mumbles, “or that fucker’s going to threaten charging me rent again.”
Laughing loudly at the prospect of Sapnap getting charged rent, and deciding that he simply must make it happen, George eggs him on. “Come on,” he goads, “maybe don’t dump it all on him, that’s too obvious, but put Milo poo in all his shoes. Or, oh! Just the shoes he never wears at the back of the closet so it takes him forever to find it!”
“You’re terrible,” Sapnap laughs back, “like truly despicable.”
“I try,” George says, giggling as his phone pings rapidly in his pocket.
“Bro’s popular,” Sapnap snickers before turning back to the movie as George flips him off.
“Of course I am,” George says, shifting in his seat as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, “I’m the goat, and goats are always popular.”
Immediately upon seeing the notification, George sits up ramrod straight.
Dream.
His heart beats a little harder as he opens his texts. What if this is it? Dream’s finished the video and is ready to cash in on his reward? Are they really going to have sex tonight?
Dream: I finished the video
it’s uploading to the files now
watch it and let me know if you’re happy with it
A cold sweat breaks out along George’s brow. Even if the video is long, even if it’s really long, it shouldn't take more than twenty minutes to upload to their shared storage. Is there more than twenty minutes left of this movie? How mad would Sapnap be if he dipped early?
Deciding it’s better to avoid raising any suspicion, and to not open the door to any questioning, George slips his phone back into his pocket and clasps his hands in his lap to finish the rest of the movie. Surely it can’t go for that much longer, right?
“You good, bro?” Sapnap asks, lowering the volume slightly as he looks at George with his head cocked. “You look like you’re about to shit yourself and puke at the same time.”
“That’s stupid,” George says immediately, and a little overly harshly as he tries to deflect any more questions, “I was just thinking about something I have to do later. My, uh, my mum needs me to fill out some forms for her.”
Sapnap hesitates, his brows flying up. “Okay,” he says slowly, turning back to the movie, “No need to be weird about it.”
Wincing at himself, George slinks down into his seat as low as he can go, uncaring for the horrible angle it shoves his neck into. His mum needs him to fill out some forms? Can he really not come up with a better lie than that? It doesn’t even make sense; there’s realistically no forms that his mother could possibly need his help with, not now that he’s a fully independent adult and living abroad. Embarrassing. Rookie move.
Mercifully, the movie ends only forty minutes later, and George races to his office as fast as he can as soon as the credits start to roll.
It takes a couple more minutes to locate the file since Dream’s named it some random string of letters as opposed to an actual title, but soon enough George is watching it. Knees pulled up to his chest, a finger caught between his teeth, and a little more blood than usual filling the space between his legs.
As expected, it’s amazing. The footage is from another old recording George had done before leaving London, hours of video clips that have lost their appeal to the sands of time. The premise of the video is good, and there are enough fun moments during the recording that it’s easy to fill the time, but something about seeing his old self, in his old flat where he spent months upon months miserably yearning to be elsewhere saps the motivation from it for him.
All he can see now when he watches the footage is a man much more sad than he ever spoke aloud, that feels trapped by those beige walls. A man who laughed, and joked, and smiled for hours while the camera was rolling only to collapse into bed and stare at the ceiling for days at a time once the cameras were off.
The recording is good, the content is good, but George can’t bear to analyze it with the intensity that editing requires. So much content, filmed specifically to give him a backlog of ideas to use while he adjusts to life in Florida, now useless to him.
That is, unless Dream edits it. Dream doesn’t feel that ache deep in his chest watching him exist in that house that never quite achieved home status that George does, surely.
As the video ends, and the screen goes dark, George takes a shaky breath and pulls out his phone.
It’s perfect, he types, when do you want to discuss your reward?
Part of him worries that Dream has crashed; that he's going to be spending the next two days in bed asleep, and George will be left wondering what will come of all this for far longer than he wants to be.
After all, this is all a bit of a declaration, isn’t it? For as… unique as his and Dream’s friendship is, and how blurry the lines between just bros and being more has become, neither of them have actually taken the leap and broached the subject. Not with actual words, at least.
There, however, was the time when, drunk, tired and happy, George had foregone his own bed at a hotel in favour of slipping into Dream’s. He’d snuggled up to his side, wrapped around Dream like a koala, and refused to let go until their giggles had subsided and they’d both passed out.
There had also been the following morning, when Dream had woken George up with soft words murmured right into the shell of his ear and the warmth of Dream’s chain had settled on his collarbone for the first time. Then there’d been that afternoon, when George had blushed fiercely at the recording studio upon seeing that Dream had posted a picture on Snapchat where George can clearly see the outline of himself still in the bed, curled around the empty space Dream had vacated mere minutes before.
There have been too many times to count now where George has slipped between Dream and some pretty girl or handsome man at a party, indignantly steering him away while Dream just smiled at him, crooked and bemused.
And on the flip side, there have been countless nights spent out at bars with Dream looming over George’s shoulder like a guard dog, staring down anyone who dares get too close or too friendly, until they get the hint and back off. George is spoken for, as unofficial as it is.
There has been so much between them. So much flirting, and jealousy, and possessiveness, yet no actual words. For as rock solid and secure in each other as they are, the fear of crumbling their so far infallible foundation has given them pause. They’ve seen now that their base, their connection, has survived bombs, fire, and termites. It’s weathered tornadoes and hurricanes.
Yet what has been growing just beneath the surface, all molten stone and thick roots, is a slower, hotter kind of stressor. The searing inferno of a blaze is different from the simmering burn of magma. The paths of termites, carved by teeth and force, crack differently than the slow growth of roots seeking nourishment.
Swallowing thickly, George exits out of the video and stares at his desktop background. It’s a pretty old picture, from only a few months after he arrived here, of the three of them on the sofa together. Dream’s mum had taken it, insisting that they were being too cute in that way mums tend to do.
They’re sitting on the sofa, Dream in the middle with his arms slung over George and Sapnap’s shoulders. They all beam up at the camera, still completely lost in the euphoria of all being together at last.
The arm Dream has over Sapnap’s shoulder really isn't on his shoulders at all, instead resting on the back of the sofa, whereas his arms around George? Well, there’s definitely contact there.
Breathing deeply, George lets himself fall into the memory. The obligatory groan from Dream upon his mum asking for a picture, then his arm falling around George with the tips of his fingers brushing over the exposed skin of his bicep.
It’s not even clear in the picture, with the angle it’s impossible to tell that Dream’s even touching him, let alone the soft intensity of the contact.
He did though, and George keenly remembers the goosebumps that erupted across his skin afterwards. The heat that blossomed low in his belly and the way his mind kicked into overdrive as his whole world zeroed in on that singular point of touch.
George is so deep into his memories that the ding from his phone makes him jump, knocking it off his desk as he grabs for it.
Incoming Message from Dream: Come to my room. We’ll discuss.
Feeling a little like he’s having an out of body experience, George floats out of his office and down the stairs, slipping through the door to Dream’s room without knocking. He swears his feet don’t touch the ground the whole way.
Dream’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his head bowed and his elbows on his knees. He looks up as George enters, eyes heavily bagged and tired but a smile on his lips.
“So you liked it?” he asks softly. “It met all your expectations?”
Wordlessly, George nods.
“Good,” Dream says, patting his knees as he clears his throat, “that’s good, I’m– I’m glad.”
It’s a little awkward, the unspoken details of their deal hanging in the air and making it too thick to breathe.
Dream’s the first to break the silence. “You, uh, you don’t have to make good on your end of the bargain,” he says, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor. “Not if you don’t want to.”
George takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves. “I wouldn’t have made the deal if I didn’t want to,” he says quietly, taking a hesitant step closer to Dream’s bed. “But if you don’t want to, then we don’t have to.”
“Oh, I want to,” Dream says immediately, finally raising his eyes to meet George’s, “I just– I don’t want to ruin–”
“Us?” George finishes, a soft smile on his face.
Dream’s shoulders drop, the tension melting off the lines of his body. “Yeah,” he whispers, “us.”
Clearing his throat and clasping his hands behind his back, George picks his way across the rest of the room slowly until he’s standing in front of Dream. One more half step forward and he’d be between his knees. Another half step after that and Dream’s lips would brush over his clothed cock.
George clears his throat again, trying to banish the visual from his mind. They’re trying to have a serious conversation here, the last thing he needs is to get hard partway through it.
“I think,” George starts slowly, “that we know each other well enough now, and have been by each other’s side through enough shit over the years, that wanting this isn’t going to be nearly enough to ruin all that we’ve built.”
Dream tips his head back to meet George’s gaze, his hands moving from his knees to rest on the sides of George’s thighs. The touch, despite being featherlight and overtop of his sweatpants, sends zaps of electric shock down every nerve in George’s body and makes his heart race.
“What if it, us, goes bad?” Dream asks, his brows pinched together in a worried frown, “George, I don’t know if I could live without you. If we do this and I lose you–”
“You won’t,” George assures, cutting him off with a disbelieving laugh, “Dream, I moved my whole life here for you. I left my family for you. Everything I’ve done in the last five years has been for you.”
Dream’s pupils blow wide and his mouth falls open just enough that George has to fight the urge to slip his thumb between his lips and press the pad of it to Dream’s tongue.
“Dream, my Dream,” he continues in a whisper, “it’s always been you. It’ll only ever be you. To me, we cannot be ruined.”
When Dream’s lower lip trembles the slightest amount, George caves and lets his thumb rest on it, the rest of his fingers cradling his jaw. “You’re it for me,” he breathes, so quietly that if Dream weren’t leaning forward into his space he’s sure the words would have gone unheard.
“George,” Dream breathes back, his hands gliding up George’s thighs to his hips, “I– you’re it for me, too.”
“Good,” George says, letting his hand run up the side of Dream’s face before threading his fingers through his hair and pushing it back from his forehead, “so I’ll ask again, what do you want from me? For your reward?”
Dream’s cheeks immediately flame crimson, and he drops his gaze to the floor.
“Oh,” George coos, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips as he tightens his hold of Dream’s hair and lifts his head back up to look him in the eye, “now why would you blush like that, hm? What do you want that’s got you all embarrassed?”
“It’s stupid,” Dream says quickly, though his blush only deepens, “It’s just a– a stupid kink. We don’t have to do it.”
George sighs, cocking his head to the side. “You know, if you tell me what it is, I might be into it. And if I’m into it, I’ll probably do it.”
He watches the gears turn in Dream’s head, undoubtedly weighing the pros and cons between exposing something he’s clearly a little ashamed of with the possibility of getting to indulge in it. Finally, after a long pause, he sighs and leans into George’s touch.
“You know how people always joke in your chat about you being pregnant?” Dream starts, his voice small.
Oh, George’s interest is already piqued. “Yeah.”
“Well,” Dream says, scrunching up his nose as he shrugs, “I want to– I want to try. Really try.”
“You want to get me pregnant?” George asks, feeling like the air has been punched out of his lungs. He’s so very on board, if that’s the case.
“Okay, well,” Dream scoffs, pulling George closer by the hips and resting his forehead against his stomach, “I know I can’t actually get the job done, but I just– every time I imagine it I go a little crazy. It’s stupid, since I know all those jokes are built around the idea that it’s me getting you pregnant, but I still get jealous. Like, I get it into my head that you’re pregnant by someone else and I just– it should only be me, okay?”
“Wow,” George drawls, smirking as he pulls Dream’s head up by his hair again, “when he’s so jealous and possessive his hackles fly up against a fictional version of himself.”
“Okay, look,” Dream groans, his blush spreading to the tips of his ears, “I told you it was stupid, no need to make fun of me.”
“It’s not stupid,” George says, letting go of Dream’s hair in favour of petting his curls to lay flat, “It’s– it’s objectively correct. You should be the only one ever putting babies in me.”
The way Dream seems to fully reboot brings George great joy. The subtle tent in his shorts brings him even greater joy.
“Yeah?” Dream asks, his voice raspy and a hint of a smile on his lips, “you want my babies?”
George nods. “Yeah,” he says decisively, “I do. So give them to me, Dream. Give me your babies.”
Dream’s hands lock onto his hips, and a warm curl of satisfaction flows into George’s chest. Everything about this is falling into place; he and Dream are finally settling into where they’re meant to be. In a matter of minutes, or maybe even seconds, he’s going to be kissing Dream. Probably sucking his dick. Getting his own dick sucked. Getting split open on Dream’s cock. Getting bred.
“Come on, then,” he urges, inching closer to Dream and now uncaring that it’s a real possibility for his half hard cock will brush against his cheek. “Be a good boy and put a baby in me.”
Dream whines, low and guttural in his throat, as he pulls George down onto the bed. He rolls them over in a tangle of limbs and giggles until he’s caging George down against the mattress, and then they’re kissing.
Of course, George has imagined kissing Dream many times over the years. How could he not, after all? Not only has it always been peripherally on his radar due to the abundance of shipping content that he definitely hasn’t indulged in, but there have been more than a couple close calls since his move across the pond where he so nearly kissed Dream in the heat of the moment. From his first night in Florida he’s imagined it. Would Dream’s lips be soft? Pliable? Or would he steer and lead with tongue and teeth and make George his? Is one option even better than the other, or are they both toe curling delicious in their own ways?
Now, finally kissing after years of silent pining, George finds that Dream kisses with a desperation he hadn’t considered before. He kisses like the only air he can use is the breath from George’s lungs; like the only water he can drink is the spit on George’s tongue.
He’s desperate, and needy, and it all goes right to George’s head.
“Now Dream,” George murmurs as Dream breaks off from his lips and starts sucking marks into the thin skin of his throat, “this is all well and good, but this isn’t how you make a baby, is it?”
Dream only groans, shaking his head slightly as he ruts against George’s thigh. The line of his dick is thick and heavy, and George’s own cock throbs with anticipation of getting more familiar with the few areas of Dream that haven’t yet been revealed to him.
“Dreamie,” George coos in a sing-song voice when Dream just continues marking up his neck instead of taking the hint, “if you want to get me pregnant, you’re going to have to put a certain something in a certain somewhere.”
Groaning again, Dream shudders as his hands fall to George’s waist and slip under his shirt. “You’re killing me, George,” he whines.
“Oh, am I?” George teases, thrusting up against Dream’s stomach, “I’m killing you?”
Dream hums, pushing George’s shirt up to his chest before dropping his lips to his sternum. “Just want to be in you.”
George scoffs, knotting his fingers into Dream’s curls again as he rolls his hips up again, this time grinding against the meat of Dream’s pecs. “Then get to work, idiot. I literally want that too.”
“But I also want to just–” Dream cuts himself off with a moan as his lips close around one of George’s nipples, “I also want to absolutely take you apart for hours.”
Seeing stars, and fighting the rapidly rising urge to drop the L word immediately, George plants his palm flat on the top of Dream’s head and shoves him down towards his pelvis. “Later,” he gasps as Dream’s cheek brushes over his bulge, “for now, baby making.”
Sighing, as though he’s terribly hard done by, Dream sits up on his knees and puts his hands on his hips as he stares down at George. “Do you really want it that bad? Do you want it enough to forgo foreplay?”
Groaning, George throws his head back as he reaches for one of Dream’s hands, pressing it to his dick and thrusting up into the touch. “Does this feel like the dick of someone who needs more foreplay?” he asks, his voice pitching slightly as Dream’s fingers curl around him and squeeze his shaft.
A bead of saliva rolls onto Dream’s lower lip as he slowly jerks George off through his pants, and as his tongue darts out to lick it away a matching bead of precum seeps out of George’s cock, wetting the front of his sweats. “Dream I’m serious,” he whimpers, “I need– more, please give me more. Be good and give me more.”
George watches in awe as all the fine hairs along Dream’s arms stand up straight for a moment before his shirt being yanked off over his head obstructs his view, shortly followed by his pants and underwear being pulled down and off his legs. His cock, swollen and sensitive, slaps up against his stomach with a wet sound, making him hiss. He can’t remember another time in life where he’s felt like this; where he’s been so desperate and turned on that it’s almost as intense as the feeling of true panic.
“Please,” he begs in a whisper, his mouth going dry as Dream shucks off his own clothes, still kneeling between his thighs. He’s seen Dream shirtless before, so nothing there is a surprise, but the second his shorts are shoved down George feels so dizzy he may faint.
Of course he’s fucking hung. Of course his cock is stupidly and excessively long and thick, curved upwards at the tip slightly in a way that George just knows will fit together with his prostate more perfectly than even the most exact puzzle pieces. He’s going to come on that cock so hard he’s bound to black out, he’s calling it now.
“Holy shit, Dream,” he says weakly, reaching down and taking Dream’s cock in his hand, “where have you been hiding all this?”
While he’s never seen Dream’s dick before, George feels like he’d have known if it was this big. After all, they’ve been swimming together, and the way wet swim trunks cling to flesh leaves little to the imagination. Surely George would have noticed, it’s not like he made any effort to not stare.
Dream shrugs, chuckling as he lets his head tip back, his hips rolling forwards into George’s fist. “What can I say? I’m a grower.”
“I am… the luckiest man alive,” George murmurs, his eyes carefully tracking a drop of precum as it oozes out of Dream’s tip and falls, landing on his own balls and making his cock jump happily.
“Well,” Dream says, pulling out of George’s hold as he leans backwards, stretching across the bed to his nightstand and rifling through the drawer for a moment, “I don’t know about the luckiest.”
With a little triumphant sound, he turns back to George and drops a small bottle of lube onto the comforter next to George’s hip before shuffling down to lay on his stomach between George’s thighs.
“Oh,” George gasps as Dream licks a stripe up the underside of his cock, all the way from balls to tip, “no, I think I might just be.”
Grinning, Dream grabs the lube and slathers it over three of his fingers, as well as smearing a dollop of it across George’s hole, making him gasp again. “I mean, I think I’m pretty lucky too. After all, pretty sure there’s nothing better in life than getting to impregnate the GeorgeNotFound.”
“You’re such an idio– ah!” George gasps, his knees raising on either side of Dream’s head and his hands knotting into the bedspread as Dream slips a finger into him at the same time as he takes the tip of his cock between his lips, letting it rest on his tongue. “God.”
Dream’s laugh is muffled on account of the mouthful of dick, and he slowly pushes further, letting his finger slide in as far as it can go as he swallows more and more of George’s cock down.
George scrabbles for any semblance of a thought, wanting to say something clever, witty, and hot that will pull more delicious sounds from Dream’s chest and get him humping the mattress again. He wants to get him wet, desperate, and begging. He wants to coax Dream into a mindset where he fucks into him without reservations, just chasing his pleasure and the goal of fucking his cum in deep enough that they overcome biology and create more life.
Yet all his mind can conjure up is an endless string of Dream Dream fuck good Dream more hot wet tight Dream love Dream.
He barely notices the addition of another finger into his ass, too focused on the way Dream’s tongue traces the path of the veins along his shaft. Part of him is tangentially aware that must be the point; to keep him swimming in euphoric bliss deep enough to not notice or mind the new stretch. It’s a good idea, probably. As much as George normally enjoys a bit of a sting from the stretch, Dream’s cock is so massive that the stretch is probably going to surpass the pleasurable level of pain for a little bit.
The third finger isn’t hidden as well, despite the way Dream drives the tip of his tongue into George’s slit as he slips it in.
Hissing through his teeth, George pulls one hand away from the sheets to grab Dream’s hair, being careful to not shove his head down further than he can take. “Fuck, it’s so much.”
Dream pops off his cock and stills his fingers, crooking them up to press against George’s prostate. “Too much?”
George shakes his head, tugging on Dream’s hair to steer him back towards his dick. “Not too much. Need it to take you.”
He feels Dream’s lips pull into a smile against the base of his shaft briefly before swallowing his cock down again with a content hum.
“You’re so fucking good at this,” George whines as Dream continues to work him over, “the actual goat.”
Making a happy little rumble noise, Dream only presses down further onto George’s cock, going so deep that George can feel his tip nudge up against the back of Dream’s throat. That, combined with the firm circles he’s rubbing into his prostate, has George barrelling towards the edge.
“Okay Dream, I’m ready,” George moans, pulling Dream off his cock and up his body into a searing kiss. “Come on, I want your gigantic dick in me, like, yesterday.”
“Yeah?” Dream asks, his lips curling into a smile against George’s. “You ready for it?”
Scoffing, George grabs the lube, squirts some onto his hand, and slicks up Dream’s cock without breaking eye contact. “I’m more than ready.”
The atmosphere in the room changes slightly as George finishes getting Dream’s cock prepped to go. The boiling intensity fades into something softer, more tender and fragile. It makes his heart flutter, the way Dream gathers him into his arms and lays over him as he lines himself up. His breath is stolen from his lungs as Dream takes one of his calves in each hand, pulling them up and wrapping them around his waist. It nearly brings a tear to his eye as Dream presses into him, kissing the gasps off his lips until he’s fully bottomed out.
“You good?” Dream asks, panting against George’s mouth as he holds him tight, one arm wrapped around his torso and the other gently brushing the hair back from his face.
George nods, a little shakily. “Better than good,” he whispers.
Grinning crookedly in a way that goes right to George’s heart, Dream slowly rocks his hips once.
Eyes rolling back, George nods frantically to urge Dream on, digging his heels into his lower back. It’s official, this is the best sex he’s ever had. Only one thrust in and he already knows that it’s earned the crown.
“God, George,” Dream moans, slowly speeding up his thrusts as George’s body softens and opens up for him more completely, “Do you know how badly I’ve wanted this? For years all I’ve been able to think about while getting off has been you. I only ever want to think about you. I only ever want to be with you.”
“Is– is that so?” George asks between gasps as Dream’s cock reaches deeper than anything has ever gone into him before.
Dream nudges his face up with his nose and kisses him hard. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, keeping their mouths close enough to brush with every thrust, “why do you think I’ve been having a dry spell, hey? It’s because I’ve only been wanting you. I didn’t want anyone else. I don’t want anyone else.”
“Dream,” George whimpers, wrapping his arms around Dream’s neck and licking into his mouth, “you have me.”
“I want to put a baby in you,” Dream groans around George’s insistent kisses, “I want to knock you up and– and have a family.”
George gasps, burying his face into the crook of Dream’s neck. “You want that?” he asks, rocking his hips in time with Dream’s thrusts to drive his cock ever deeper.
“Yeah,” Dream breathes, resting his forehead against George’s as his strokes start to grow quick and sloppy, “I want it all with you, George, if you’ll have me.”
George closes his eyes, letting his senses be flooded by the feel of Dream’s body all over his, inside and out. “Tell me how much you want it.”
“I want it more than anything,” Dream says immediately, his voice taking on the soft, near desperate qualities George is familiar with from the videos they’ve filmed where Dream is his pet. “I want to have babies with you, and I want to marry you, and I want to grow old with you.”
Purposefully ignoring those latter wants of Dream’s, and deciding that’s a conversation for future him to have, George groans, low and throaty. “You know what to do if you want to make a baby, Dream.”
“Yeah,” Dream pants, “need to come deep in you. Deep enough to make sure it catches. Not let a single drop out.”
“That’s right,” George whispers, taking Dream’s face in his hands as he twists his pelvis up searching for the perfect angle to have Dream’s cock driving into his prostate on each thrust, “you need to fill me right up. Pump me full of your cum.”
Dream whimpers, letting George hold his head up as his hips start to stutter. “Want it so bad, George,” he babbles, fucking into George hard. He must be getting close to his orgasm, if the intensity and desperation of his thrusts are anything to go by. “Want to fuck you and fill you up and get you pregnant. Please, please get pregnant. I’m being so good, I’m trying so hard. Please.”
Still holding Dream’s face in his hands, and now with burning cheeks, George reaches up and presses a kiss to Dream’s forehead. “You are being good,” he murmured, keeping his lips against Dream’s sweaty skin, “you’re doing so good and trying so hard. You can do it, love.”
With a deep, shuddering moan, Dream comes. His whole body shakes as he thrusts weakly into George, barely pulling back on each stroke to keep his cum as far in as he can manage.
He doesn’t pull out for a long while, not until he’s fully soft, but he wastes no time dropping his mouth back to George’s cock as soon as he does.
“Your turn to fill me now,” Dream murmurs, swallowing George down as he slips a thumb into his hole, presumably to keep his cum locked inside for a little longer.
“Oh, fuck,” George groans, knotting his fingers into Dream’s hair again and guiding him up and down. He pushes him a little further each time until he once again can feel the back of Dream’s throat brushing up against his tip, then pulls him off halfway and starts fucking up into him.
Considering he knows for a fact that Dream’s dick sucking experience is extremely limited, if he even has any experience at all, his tongue game is out of this world. George’s eyes roll back again as Dream’s tongue traces all his most sensitive spots on each thrust, rocketing him towards his climax.
“Holy fuck, Dream,” George pants as his balls pull up towards his body, getting ready to empty, “you’re goated at head, I’m– I’m about to–”
George cums with a long, wanton moan. He fucks into Dream’s mouth shallowly, savouring each suck and lap as Dream works to gather every drop onto his tongue. He stays like that, suckling on George’s cock, until it’s soft and a little overly sensitive and, regretfully, George is forced to push him off.
Dream pops off, licking his lips as he swallows several times in quick succession with his eyes never leaving George’s, and just like that George is back to feeling like he may faint at any moment.
“That was–” he starts, trailing off with a whimper as Dream pulls his thumb from his hole, “that was goated.”
A smile pulls at Dream’s lips, red and swollen from being fucked. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice only a little raspy, “we’re just goated at sex I guess.”
Laughing softly, George pushes at Dream’s chest until he rolls off him and lays on his back before snuggling up to his side. “You know,” he starts, resting his head on Dream’s chest and nuzzling in close as Dream pulls a blanket over them, “I think we’re goated at more than just sex.”
“Yeah?” Dream asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of George’s head. “What else are we goated at?”
Sighing, completely and entirely content, George closes his eyes and listens to the steady thumping of Dream’s heart. “Love.”
Dream’s breath stalls, his chest going still under George’s cheek. “Yeah?” he asks, voice airy, “do you love me, George?”
Humming, George nods. “I think I do, yeah.”
“Huh,” Dream says, doing a happy little wiggle, “I think I do, too. How about that.”
George snorts, pressing up onto an elbow so he can meet Dream’s gaze. “Bro’s giddy,” he teases, dragging a hand up to Dream’s chest and rubbing small circles against his skin, still flushed and hot.
“Well duh,” Dream teases back, craning his head up to press a light kiss to George’s cheek, “it’s not every day you find out your love is returned like this.”
George hums again, letting his head fall back onto Dream’s chest. “So are we boyfriends then?”
Dream shrugs under him. “If you want to be, I’d like that.”
“Well,” George starts, wrapping his arms around Dream’s body and squeezing him tight, “I think it depends. Are you going to keep editing for me?”
“That depends,” Dream parrots, mischief in his voice, “what sort of rewards are we talking about?”
George scoffs again. “I believe you mentioned something about marriage,” he says, unable to keep the adoration out of his voice, “how about we start there?”