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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

 Every night, Dream did the same thing. He got off to the same George pictures he teased the real "Gogy" with. Sapnap was right because some really were erotic. George bent over, on his knees, tongue out, legs spread, and Dream had a plethora. He often found himself imagining George in front of him with his mouth open or unclothed. 

 While, yes, this was probably really wrong. After all, George was one of his longtime friends and someone out of his league. He couldn't stop himself! All attempts failed, and George had constantly said he didn't mind being shipped with Dream. So, technically, Dream wasn't doing anything too far out of the other's boundaries. You know, besides jerking off to images of him from deleted video scenes. 

 But today is different. Today, Dream had something special. A video was circulating around pornhub. A video of a lean, ivory-skinned male with pink nips and a red tip. While he knew it wasn't George, he couldn't ignore the similarities once the face was cropped out. He stared at the paused screen, a black piece of paper taped over the facial features. 

 In front of him was a statue made by God himself. A lean, almost bony body lay across silky champagne sheets. A corner covered his crotch, hiding it from the viewers like a last act of decency. A hand layout of the frame above "George's" head, curving their spine slightly. The other hand settled across his stomach, right next to his belly button. Perky, pink nipples sat above barely, showing ribs. It's from the way he was laying on his back, and not because he fell underweight. He had a slight curve at his hips, which dipped inwards before stretching back out to a bit of pudge. A happy trail slithered out from underneath the sheets. Even the hair on his pit seemed angelic, the lightest puff of clearly trimmed black. Yeah, this is what George would look like if he was undressed. Dream just knew it. 

 Unpausing the video, the male on the screen used his hand across his abdomen to tap lightly. He slowly trailed downwards, teasing himself just above the cloth. "George" slipped his hand under the sheet and jerked himself a couple of times. A high-pitched whine leaked out from Dream's headphones, who grimaced and took them off. George wouldn't sound like that. Maybe gasping and higher than Dream, but not overly feminine. He would still have that heavy, deepness to it. 

 The video continued without sound. Dream watched with fascination as "George" slipped his hand out from underneath and slid up to one of his buds. He pulled on it once before his hand shifted out of frame. It came back only seconds later, glistening with what Dream guessed to be spit. Now, he turned and tugged on the nipple with ease. The hand that had been out of frame for the video bent and gripped onto the sheets underneath. "George" seemed to like teasing. His back arched as the hand that was tugging slipped back onto his hidden cock. 

 Dream just stared, mouth drooling at the idea of tasting the cock he had yet to see. Of course, he was imagining the real George through all of this. He had no attraction to the male pornstar who posted the video. Whenever he thought of the male as not George, his lust would die down. Yes, only George could make him this crazy. After all, the star was attractive. Just not George pretty.  Which, yes, was very real. George had his own category, which no one else could fall in. 

 The rest of the video was of the male jerking himself off while hidden. All you could see was the movement of hand pulling and pushing something between ivory thighs. "George's" back arched more, breath clearly labored by the way his chest moved. Dream could guess he was close with the way his thighs shakily opened more. The male seemed to freeze, stomach, arms, and thighs twitching as he assumed "George" finished. The guy took a second to pull out his hand and show the screen his achievement. 

 The video ended right after, and Dream felt satisfied. No, he didn't touch himself, but he was supporting a major hard-on. Which meant Dream could jerk off to full-on moving pictures of somewhat George. The guy had about a hundred and ten posts. One a day should be good. He might even alternate between actual images and fake videos. Sadly, he still didn't have any good moaning. 

 Well, now that he had that figured out, he closed the tab and saved the username on a hidden sticky note, placing it in one of the books. He slid into bed and tried to calm down. Today was just a research day. Plus, he hadn't even gotten to see the mysterious dick. Again, he wanted a one-a-day video. As that was an older video, he could pick a newer one for tomorrow night. That night, he slept with an excited smile.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

"Dreaaamm, can't you just throw my load in with yours?"

 "If I do that," Dream sighed, turning to glare at George, "I'll also have to fold them." Dream pushed his basket in front of the washer, throwing in his sheets and a few pairs of underwear. 

 "I promise to fold them this time," George mumbled, voice almost believable if not for the glint in his eyes. He knew Dream couldn't say no, and he often used it against the ladder. 

 "Ugh," Dream threw the basket down, taking the one in George's hands, "I swear to God, George, if you don't come back to fold them I'll throw all your clothes away." George brightly smiled, nodding his head before running off to do God knows what. 

 Dream looked down at the pile of dirty hoodies staring back at him... He just had a really, really bad (good) idea. He shook the idea off, grabbing the first hoodie and throwing it in with his cum soaked sheets... Okay, just one. He picked out the Dream merch, the black one he gave him months before he moved in, and set it aside. The rest he carelessly tossed in the wash, slamming the lid shut and pressing start. He grabbed the only thing left out and rushed to his room. 

 He hid it. The item was carefully tucked in a place no one would look. He just had to wait. No way could he jerk off peacefully during the day, not with both Sapnap and George still in the house. 

 So, he hid the hoodie and closed his door tightly behind him. He couldn't risk someone deciding to snoop around. Knowing his luck, his hiding spot would reveal itself. 

 Dream tried to calm his racing heart. He tiptoed out to the living room, where he could hear loud music blasting from the TV. Some action movie George probably put on to get out of chores. He noticed the familiar dark tuft of hair settled against the armrest of the smaller couch. On the other couch, Sapnap sat, eyes focused on the TV. Dream bit his bottom lip, continuing his walk to the kitchen. He felt his face heat up, a realization of how down bad he must seem. Or maybe it was more stalkerish? He collected pictures, stole hoodies, and probably would do worse if he didn't already feel disgusted (Like actually hit on George.)

 "Dream, could you get me a glass of water?" Sapnap asked, taking a second to glance at Dream before turning back to the TV. Dream didn't reply, grabbing one from the dishwasher and filling it with ice. The water filled slowly, Dream placed his forehead against the cool refrigerator. He took a moment to relax, enjoying the sensation of cold against heated skin. He hadn't realized how worried he was. It's not like he has done anything yet. He still has the chance to make things right.

 The glass was close to spilling, and he pulled it back and took a small sip. He walked over to the living room and gave the cup to Sapnap. Dream turned to George, who paid no mind to the new body in the room. He had no idea what Dream had planned to do. He doesn't know what Dream stole...

 And that excited him. 

 The light flickered across Dream's face, the computer screen the only thing on in the darkroom. Dream spun in his chair, listening for any sign of life in the rooms next to his. It's been an hour since he last heard the gentle thump of George exercising in his room. He did that every other day, working up a sweat and probably warming up his room with natural heat. Dream managed to work out once with George and never again after. It is hard to pay attention to the instructor when your eyes are drawn to the perky behind of your friend. Dream was lucky he tucked his member away tightly, or else George would have been able to see his hard-on. 

 Another thirty minutes go by before he feels comfortable enough to stand up and rummage through his closet. Behind an old sleeping bag laid a barely used shoe stand. It settled a couple inches before the wall, back not touching as a plastic bag was stuck behind. Dream pulled the bag out, looking inside and seeing the familiar fabric peek out. He glanced around the room, feeling a chill run up his spine.  His window was tightly shut, fan off, and yet he had a moment of ghostly coldness run through him. 

 Any rational person would take this nauseating nervousness as a sign that maybe this was too far. Maybe stealing your friend's hoodie when he trusted you to do his laundry was a sign to seek help... But any rational person wasn't Dream. He bought George this hoodie, and if he asked to borrow it, he is sure George would have said yes. Or he could lie and say he accidentally brought the item to his room. Or use it as a way to tell George to clean up after himself. Dream could use every excuse in the book if anyone found out. He didn't feel like he was doing anything wrong, so he walked back to his desk chair and scrunched the hoodie in his hands before bringing it to his nose.

 George smelled like home. He smelled like spring in a pine forest. George smelled of luck and happiness. He smelled like a dream snuggled in warm blankets on a soft, freshly cleaned bed in the middle of March. He smelled of rain, dewy mornings, the cold 6 A.M jogs, and the quiet whispers of two adults in love. George smelled like everything Dream loved and more. 

 Hidden in his sweet scent was the smell of lust that drove him crazy. George's cologne overpowered all of Dream's senses, pushing him into his usual state of extreme horniness. He pulled his face back, dropped the hoodie on his desk, and stood up to shuffle off his sweats. In one go, he pulled off his pants and boxers, throwing the offending articles of clothing to the opposite side of his room. His dick, already painfully hard from George's smell alone, roughly smacked against his stomach as he shifted around. 

 Dream sat in his chair again, legs spread as he pulled the fabric back to his nose. He took a few deep breaths in, strangely already on the brink of coming just from imagining George there in his lap. His whole body felt like it was on fire, electric buzzing stemming from his dick down to his toes. It flowed through him with each sniff, causing him to tighten his grip on the fabric. While he roughly fondled the hoodie, one of the arms fell out of his grip and scrapped against his cock. He bucked up to the sensation, fucking next to the arm. Cum shot out of him and onto the back of the sweater, shocking him as he leaned forward to stop the flow. He didn't expect to come that quickly, or at all. He was too lost in the smell to really enjoy the pleasure of having "George" there with him. 

 Even as the cum dripped out of his tip, Dream wasn't satisfied. He wanted to do more with the sweater before Dream gave it back tomorrow. Since it was already covered in cum, why not do more now?

 Dream didn't give his body a chance to relax. He placed the hoodie against his desk, cum stained back first, and stood over it. Grabbing the arm that started it all, he led the fabric to wrap around his dick. 

 "Come on, baby," Dream whispered, "Fuck me like you mean it." Below him laid "George," wide eyes focused on Dream's cock. His pretty hands wrapped around Dream, nose flushed with embarrassment. Slowly, "George" moved his hand up before plunging back down. Dream moaned in encouragement, eyes rolled back. "George" grew more confident, speeding up his pace. Dream helped by rolling his hips into "George's" hand. He felt his balls slap against the desk, but the pain didn't stop him from chasing the pleasure. (He probably should've lowered it before starting, but God, he could never say no to George.)

 Each thrust felt painfully good. Sparks of blue and red ran from his tip to his brain, turning it into purple mush. Each zap pushed him farther away from the pain and closer to cumming. Although, Dream wouldn't have complained if he still felt the pain. It added to the reality that George was under him with his thighs on either side of him, a hand-pumping Dream. 

 Dream had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth to hide any noise that dared to leak. He felt he was already pushing it with the wet sound of the handjob and the echoing slap of his balls. He felt like it was just echoing in his purple, mushed brain bouncing from wall to wall as he fucked into the sleeve. He wasn't that loud, or George would have already banged on the wall. It's not like Dream would've stopped anyway. He was too far gone, blood dribbling down his chin, calves convulsing, face a burning red. His eyes remained shut, and a grin spilled from his blood-bitten lips. His hips bucked a few more times, fiery red tip bursting with a stream of milk-white cum. He felt wave after wave of relief, happiness, and overall joy fill his body. 

 Dream fell against his chair, sweat causing him to stick to the leather. His head lulled towards the window, ears trying to pop from the double ejaculation. His body felt weak, but his smile didn't fade. He went from tight with the need to cum, to jelly in a matter of seconds. Yeah, he left a huge mess and stepped past the boundaries of friendship once more, but hey, it felt fucking amazing. 

 Soaking the cum-stained hoodie in a secret solution of whatever the internet said was embarrassing. He felt like a pubescent teen boy who had his first wet dream and was trying to wash away the evidence before his mommy came in. If that teen stole his crush's hoodie, came to it once accidentally, and then came to it a second time while fucking into it in a bruising matter. 

 He had left the substance to dry overnight. It now became a disgusting crust that plainly stuck out against the black. He didn't want to touch it. Yes, it was his, but fuck was it disgusting. His fingers scraped against the fabric, a quick gag leaving his mouth before he forced his body to clean it off. 

 Once he felt satisfied (in a very normal, not sexual way), he snuck his way into the laundry room and put it in the dryer with the clothes from the previous day. (Which were already dried, but no one else needed to know that.)

Chapter Text

 It's been a week since his little desk fun, and no one has said anything. Dream has grown comfortable, and he's feening for another night like that. He wants to feel the sense of danger over him, the yearning to be caught doing something he shouldn't be. 

 Since that night, George has worn the merch sweater. Dream sometimes imagines white droplets of cum still on the fabric, covering George in a protective layer of possessiveness. If George knew the truth, he probably would be disgusted. He might throw off the hoodie while cussing at Dream. He could possibly run to the bathroom, scrubbing at his pale chest and arms until the surface was red with tension. The thought made Dream's face heat up, either with embarrassment or filthy lust.

 Anyways, Dream sat alone in the shared home. The other two left about five minutes ago for some movie Dream wasn't interested in. (Apparently, it had to do with whatever they watched last week.) Now that he was alone, he could do anything he wanted. He had about two hours. Anything. He wanted. Anything. He. Wanted. 

 A minute or two later he licked his lips and walked into the open door of George's room.  George left it open, he had to of guessed Dream wanted to come in. George's room was dirtier than Dream's. He had pairs of jeans thrown around, shirts draped across his dresser, and the few weights he used were in the middle. Dream walked around the outer edges, he had been in there a couple of times in the past month alone, but he never had a chance to study it. It seemed to constantly change, with items or objects moving around in a matter of days. 

 Dream found himself on George's bed. He had his face stuffed in the pillow, hand down his pants. It never took long for Dream to find himself doing some perverted act. It also didn't take long for him to finish. It was like as soon as he had his hand around himself, he was already cumming. The added fear of being found out, the new environment, the overwhelming smell of George, the thoughts of some mysterious camera recording him right now, all of it was enough to push him to pass the edge. At least this time Dream's cum was stopped by his boxers and sweats.   

 It's not like he was done, though. He wasted five minutes out of two hours. He took his hand out from his pants, wiping the remaining liquid on the bedboard facing the wall. A little secret he doubted George would ever find. (He felt like those weird scenting fanfictions Sapnap forced him to read...) 

 He didn't know how much time he spent just basking in the Scent of George, covers draped over his back. All he knew was his horniness was back and grinding down into the bed his crush slept in felt really, really good. He didn't have to think about it, Dream's body automatically chased after pleasure at this point. It was like a background buzz, images of George being under him, ass up as he slid his dick against him. He took it slow, enjoying the feeling of his cum slicking up his movement. If this was his bed, he would've already bit down on his pillow. But he didn't have to hide his noises today. Although it's not like he was incredibly vocal, pleasant hums leaked out every now and then. 

 This went on for a while. Dream's hips slowly rocked back and forth as he imaged George drowsy under him, giving him his body to get off to. Dream's eyebrows pushed together, momentarily getting louder as his hips sped up. They halted, thrusting forward slightly after each pulse of cum. His hips gave out, shocking him at the overestimation from the mattress. He jumped up, blinking down at his crotch. Surprisingly, none of it dripped through. He fixed the bed and tucked the clothes back the way he remembered it. It looked correct, so he left to shower. 

 About thirty minutes later, the two returned. 

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 This time, Dream waited two weeks to try anything like that. George never mentioned anything. He didn't seem to know anything. But knowing that his cum was still in there, near his head, felt liberating. He felt like he could get away with anything if he tried. He just didn't know if he was up to trying for a while. 

 -Is what he would say if he hadn't already placed an order from an online adult shop. Now, Dream wasn't one for sex toys. In all honesty, he wasn't one for masturbating before his obsessive crush on George. Before, if he wanted to get off, he could find some girl who felt the same overwhelming need. Now, though, the thought of sex with someone else felt like acid climbing up his throat, dripping across his lungs and heart with each sorrowful breath. Basically, it was a no-go. It was George or no one at all. 

 The package would arrive discreetly at their front door,  Dream's name written on one corner with no indication of what could be inside. He snuck it to his room, passing by Sapnap, who didn't even give it a second glance. He pushed the door shut softly, listening for the gentle click of his lock before crossing his room to the opened window. Light streamed in, people passed by under, the hum of life telling him it was about midday, and his secret could wait until the moon rose above his town. 

 The secret could wait, but not him. He closed the curtains and switched on his lamp. He placed the box on his desk, where most of his most recent action seems to be happening, and pulled out an old box cutter. The metal glistened in the light, blinding Dream momentarily before he dragged the blade across the tape. The box opened, and inside was a layer of plastic hiding the item deeper. The plastic wrinkled easily under Dream's hand, and he placed it in the garbage bin next to his desk.   There was another box, but this one felt smooth under his index finger as he traced the blue letters. White box with blue and a black image of the product inside. 

 Dream has seen the product in videos before. Specifically, ones you can find on pornographic websites. Did he ever imagine himself buying one? No, because he had experienced the real thing before. Did he read somewhere it felt the same and could bring him greater pleasure in his fantasies? Yes, which is why it was sitting in front of him now. 

 Rapid knocks shocked him out of his thoughts. He pushed the box into his drawer and walked towards the door. At first, he forgot to unlock the door, twisting the knob and standing confused when it didn't budge. One more go, and there stood George. His hair was wet, dripping down his face and towards his neck. He was flushed, face a sprinkle of pink against ivory. If Dream picked a moment to kiss George, it would be now with the male staring up at him. His eyes were wide, a gloss covering a deep brown. Dream stopped himself from looking at George's lips, knowing George could feel his eyes already burning through him. 

 "What's up?"

 "Sap made spaghetti and meatballs, and you weren't answering your phone," George hummed, eyes moving past Dream and into his room. 

 "Oh yeah, I was editing a video."

 "With your computer off?"

 Dream chuckled, forgetting how observant George could be if he wanted. "You've never edited a video without your computer?"

 George shrugged, turning around and heading towards the kitchen. Dream couldn't figure out what that was for, but it's not like he would look further into it. George had his moments. They all did. 

 It was an uneventful dinner. The three men ate dinner in the living room with some horror movie playing in the background. Tall Grass? Something about a pregnant woman who hears a child begging for help in a cornfield. It wasn't a bad movie. He would watch it again when he was less distracted. After all, George had his body leaned up against Dream, who was already planning his next "playtime." 

 Was he a creep? Dream didn't feel the usual pit of despair that sucked him in after each delicate moment with George. Maybe he was getting used to it. Maybe what he was doing was okay, and he didn't have to stop himself anymore from enjoying every moment. It's not like George knew, and he asked him to stop. It was like a teen crush. He was just going through the stages of overwhelming love for the man. He was trying to figure out what his body and mind wanted with these new changes. (If one forgets he is about seven years out of puberty.)

 Dream sat on his bed, back hitting the wall. In his lap lay the cardboard box along with the toy he bought. He fiddled with the top, bending the opening back and forth. He had an idea of what he wanted to do, but he didn't know if it was morally right. It's not like morals stopped him before...

 Okay, fine. Dream will try it once and see where it goes. If it ends terribly, he'll toss the sucker out and forget about the whole ordeal. (Until he finds another toy to obsess over until he buys it.)

 He pulls out the box inside, tossing the cardboard on the floor. It was smooth, and the only thing holding him from the item was a tape sticker. He peeled it back, licking his lips with anticipation. A pool of warmth filled his stomach, dripping with each passing stretch --the only noise was the slow pull, which stuck to his fingers. Dream rolled the tape up, flinging it somewhere in his room. He was gentle with prying the top open -- the toy slipped out with a turn, falling into his open palm. Dream squished the item, which stretched past his fingers, and wrinkled the plastic. It slid off pretty effortlessly, falling towards the pile on the floor. 
 Finally, the mystery item unshielded itself. Dream flipped the silicone pleasure in his hands -- it was blue and squished with each gentle squeeze. On one end laid a hole meant to fit his dick, and the other side was flat. It was similar to a pocket pussy, but had the feeling of an ass instead. It was labeled under the same name, so he assumed it was pretty much the same thing. 

 Sliding the item in his hoodie pocket, he walked out of his room and into the bathroom to clean it. The cold water ran over his free hand, the other reaching for the pocket pussy. He pulled it out and pushed it under the rushing stream. The water bent around the outside, sliding off of both the toy and Dream's hand in waves. Dream turned it over a few times, rubbing the outside and trying hard not to think about the inside but, when the water kept running and his hand ran out of space to clean, he knew it couldn't be pushed off anymore. 

 At first, he nudged his finger slowly, feeling the pull of an overfilled hole. Dream pushed the rest in, imagining George whining at the intrusion under him.  It was cold, a little on the freezing side, which made the image hard to imagine in a bed -- instead, he pictured George at the beach leaning over a rock. 

 It was a warm and sunny day. The heat radiating off the sun fell over those who planned their day around escaping toward salted water. The smell of sunscreen and sand filled Dream's nose as he squirted another palmful of the white liquid into his hand. Dream dripped the lotion onto his friend, George's, back. It pooled in the middle, threatening to slide further along George's spine if Dream didn't intervene. Slightly calloused hands slid across smooth skin, spreading the sunblock evenly. Dream felt the warm, almost overheated skin under him shift and shiver with each movement. George had a ticklish side, something he reserved and hid from others besides Dream. Once Dream felt like he was done, he moved off George and pocketed the bottle in his swim shorts. 

 George sat up, and his eyes had this weird glaze to them, almost like he was in a trance. He traced over Dream but stopped once he noticed Dream was staring back. Dream shifted his gaze towards the water, where people were splashing around and jumping over the smaller waves. He looked back towards George, who seemed to understand. They walked close enough to where their hands grazed each step but not enough for Dream to feel his warmth once more. 

 Dream went in first as the water swallowed his feet and sent a chill up his spine. It was a cold reminder that his body was running in the 100s just from touching George. His lust-filled mind, which kept thinking about continually touching and pleasing George, settled as he watched George push out deeper. He followed the male, who ventured towards the unoccupied formation. Dream wasn't sure why but he felt the familiar heat drip from his mouth down to the pit of his stomach.

  When Dream rounded the corner, George had his trunks off, perky ass in the air.  Dream felt his breath knock out of him, it came out in short puffs as he slowly reached out to grab at George -- his fingers squeezed and squished, pulled, and pushed. Basically, he fondled until he was ready for more. Dream pulled out the convenient lotion, smearing daps of it onto George's twitching hole. 

 Dream went slow, finger nudging in before he pushed harder. It was cold, water filling in the hole with each pump in and out. George slid further in the water, ass directly on Dream's cloth, twitching cock. Dream muffled a moan, thrusting up onto the sudden pressure. He slid his shorts down, dick sliding against goosebump skin with each quick thrust. Slowly he found himself sliding into the tight hole, dick spasming like he was already gonna come. 

 Dream lolled his head back, enjoying the sound of water splashing against his dick with each quick thrust. He pumped his cock deep inside, the pace picking up with each squeeze. Dream tasted the familiar blood that laced across his tongue, lip tightly sealed behind his teeth. He continued like this for a while, dick soaking wet after each push in and out. He could feel the familiar bubble cloud his mind as his orgasm drew near. If he could, he would stop himself to enjoy the sickening pleasure. It felt all too real, and Dream didn't know how to contain himself anymore. One second he was fucking into George at a brutal pace, the next he was cumming inside. 

 Once Dream fell out of his trance, he noticed the faucet still running and water pooled around his sock-covered feet. The toy was stuck on his dick, water, and cum spilling out onto his clothes. He twitched at the gentle squeeze his hand gave, edging into overstimulation. 

 It would take some time for him to calm down and clean. 

 He played a dangerous game last night. Considering how loud he knew he could be, plus the added water that splashed against the tile floor, Dream didn't know how he wasn't caught yet. What he did know, however, was he very much enjoyed the sex toy and would be using it more often. 

Chapter Text

 Dream sat in George's room, who typed away at his desk not paying any attention to him. Dream was on George's bed in a larger hoodie along with baggy sweatpants. That's because today he had a dangerous idea. 

 Dream slipped his hand into his pants pocket, rubbing along his length with his index finger. His eyes were glued on the back of George, planning on stopping any moment he moved. 

 George continued to type. Dream sighed, adding a second finger to rub along his tip. It felt rough between the layers, but the pain added to the excitement. He felt himself getting hard, his dick slowly growing and pushing against his boxers. He smiled, realizing this was probably as close as he was gonna get to George. 

 Soon, two fingers weren't enough, and he palmed himself. His hand clenched around, trying to spread as much of the precum as he could. The fabric of his briefs, which he checked before slipping them on, was polyester and on the softer side. Yet, he knew his direct hand would feel better. He shut his eyes for a second, huffing a deep sigh out of his nose. He opened them to see George taking a swift drink, slowly turning to face Dream, who stopped his palming back down to one finger. 

 George smiled before turning back around. Dream assumed he just wanted to see if he was still there, which he very much was. A chill ran down Dream's back, sweat dripping along his spine. It slid and tickled its way down, making the urge to scratch spread across his whole body. Dream resisted, feeling the distraction of George to be too strong. He rubbed and pulled his length, wanting nothing more than to have George turn and help him. 

 Dream continued like that for a while, hand caressing his crotch while staring at the working George. He felt the strong pull of an orgasm ticking closer, but he wasn't sure if he could possibly cum quietly. Even then, he couldn't stop now. Dream might not even be able to stop if George turned towards him. 

 Just as he reached the edge and pushed over, George turned to him, practically watching as Dream fucking came in his pants. The bubbling crash that ranked over Dream's body almost caused him to showcase how he felt across his face. He made direct eye contact, suppressing the urge to thrust up into his now cum soaked shorts. It continued to trickle out of his tip, sweat probably combined with his liquid warmth. Fuck, at this point, he might just want to piss himself to hide it from George. 

 "Are you okay?" George called out, standing and moving across the room. He reached out, warm hand touching feverish skin. "You don't look too well, I think you need to lay down."

 Dream didn't respond, he just laid and tried to hide his very wet private area. His face hit George's pillow, crashing down from his high fast. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, drumming away as George rushed in and out of the room with medication and water. He took it, pretending to fall asleep as if he didn't have cum drying in his pants.

 "Dream, if you weren't feeling well, you should've told me!" A hand crashed into Dream's shoulder, a gentle punch compared to the strike George usually does. 

 "I didn't realize how bad it got," Dream lied, flush engulfing his whole body. He was still sensitive, and having his crotch rub against the bed wasn't helping him in any way. It was painful now, and his hips involuntarily flinched back. He guessed George didn't notice, seeing as he made no comment on it. 

 "Okay, rest for a while and call me over if you need anything. I'm going back to editing," George mumbled, a deep sigh following. Dream didn't see him walk away, as his face was towards the wall, but he did have one thought as he dozed off, 'I wonder if my cum is still on the headboard.'

Chapter Text

 Dream didn't take weeks this time to try something again. Instead, he took a day to come up with a new idea and another to act it out. 

 Dream was back in George's room, quickly searching for the perfect pillow. George and Sapnap were out partying with friends, Dream telling them he still didn't feel up to standard to go out. Meaning, he had about four to six hours, depending on what clubs or bars they planned on visiting. 

 George used only three pillows; They were the fluffy, cotton kind that fell flat after a while.  Touching each one, Dream went for the middle, which seemed to be used the most but still had a long lifespan. He placed it longways towards him and grabbed the black hoodie that George already dirtied. Quickly, Dream dressed the pillow in the black fabric. It fits well enough, and Dream felt satisfied with his work. 

 Grabbing the edge of the pillow, he cut it open at the seam. It wasn't too big of a hole, just enough to stuff something inside. Dream reached for his toy, pushing in the flat side first, hoping for it to be tight enough to not slip out. 

 Feeling satisfied with his work, he stared down at the makeshift George. He leaned, huffing in the scent as his hands traveled up and down the fabric. It didn't feel like George. There was no warmth, just cold soft fabric. 

He stood back up, hands still roaming. One hand slipped down, fingers rubbing the fleshlight hole. "Mm," he moaned, picturing George with his legs to his chest, pink hole twitching with need. "Let me open you, baby."

Dream slid to his knees, kissing at the hole. It was soft to his lips, each kiss growing longer. Soon, his tongue joined in and swiped against the tight bud of skin. 

George moaned, cute little hole twitching and pulsing with need. Dream continued to rim his friend, tongue lapping up the spit now trailing down the other's bum. "More," George cried out, hands gripping the sheets tightly. Dream loved pleasing the other. He deserved it. He was too pretty to be left unloved for as long as he was. 

Dream smiled and gently kissed the hole once more before slicking up his finger to press inside. It wasn't as tight as he thought it would be. George was slowly relaxing, clearly yearning for more. George arched his beautiful back with the intrusion, grinding his heavenly ass down on Dream's finger. Dream moved the digit around, pressing firmly against the other's prostate. George stuttered out a moan, body going tense while Dream rubbed in circles. 

"That's a good boy, let me please you," Dream hummed, leaning and licking around the rim. George's ass kept clenching and unclenching, clearly needed to cum but also not having enough. 

"Another," George begged, scootching his hips lower on the bed. Dream breathed in the scent of lavender and lust. He felt as if his cock cried with the need to be in the tight bundle of nerves. Instead of touching himself, he licked up another finger and slowly pushed inside. "Fuck, yes!"

Dream kept massaging the prostate as his tongue lapped the outside excitedly. His fingers sped up as George's moans grew louder. He watched as George's cock wept and leaked everywhere. The twitchy member stood proud, red, and angry with the need to cum. George cried out, ass clenching hard, as his dick released its intoxicating fluid. 

Dream pulled out his fingers from the fleshlight and hurriedly shoved his pants down. In one, quick motion his dick was shoved deep in. It was warm now from his tongue and fingers, slightly wet too. He groaned as his hips slapped against the pillow, licking his lips as his thrusts grew unsteady. 

His cock spasmed in the fleshlight, cum shooting out and squirting around his still-pumping dick. Dream slowed, cock slipping out and falling against what little of the pillow poked out. He smiled, rubbing his sensitive tip where George's head usually lays. The smallest amount of cum trailed and stuck, glimmering in the light. 

Dream pulled out the fleshlight, removed the hoodie, and stared at the pillow. It didn't look like it just had a fleshlight pushed in and fucked. In fact, it didn't look like anything happened to it. The cum had dried and soaked into the fabric. Dream rubbed along the hole, squishing it close and shoving it back into the pillowcase. Now Dream had two areas marked with his cum. 

Chapter Text

Dream decided he would cook something for his friend tonight. For the past couple of weeks, he had been constantly touching himself in secret while his friends went out together. He knew they were beginning to worry, and he didn't want them to snoop around to find answers.

He was making shrimp alfredo with salad and breadsticks. Earlier, he saved a TikTok video of fresh Alfredo sauce and figured he might as well give it a try . Right now, both males are streaming some co-op games. If he really wanted to, he could log in to his Twitch and watch. But he honestly didn't care enough to check it out. He would ask later as they ate.

So far, everything has been going well. The noodles were almost done, the bread was coated and ready to be placed in the oven, and the Alfredo sauce looked like the one in the video.

The podcast video Dream was listening to hummed the outro just as he noticed a pair of feet approaching his. Looking up, George smiled brightly.

Dream took one of his AirPods out, smiling back just as brightly.

"what's all this?"

"I decided to make food tonight. Found a new recipe online for the sauce," Dream stirred in the shrimp as he said this, turning off the stove. "Sapnap almost done?"

"Oh yeah, I think he's shutting down and cleaning up," George mumbled, focused on picking at the freshly chopped salad. Dream nodded, picking up the pot of noodles and straining it. After , he tossed the bread in the oven and went to grab plates. The bread only needed five minutes. That should be enough time for the two to wash up.

"Food is almost done, wash up with your filthy self," Dream hummed, glaring at the other who ate all the carrots from the salad.

"Finnneee, mom," George dramatically sighed as he dragged his feet to the sink. Dream smiled warmly, watching his movements. George leaned his hips against the counter, butt swishing from side to side. Dream could picture himself crowding the other against the countertop, trapping him between his hips and the hard top. He would grind his cock against the perky behind, forcing George to either push forward or thrust back.

Dream quickly turned away, fighting away the lust zapping in his stomach. He opened the oven and pulled out the bread, brushing it with more butter. Just as the food finished, Sapnap emerged from the hallway.

"Smells good," He called out, feet thumping hard, "Dream cooking? Fuck, I'm in for a treat."

After eating and washing up, the three put on a movie. It was some boring adventure movie with a plot Dream couldn't understand. Dream and George sat on the couch while Sapnap sat on the loveseat. Eventually, Sapnap went to his room to edit, and Dream changed the movie.

"Sleepy?" Dream asked George, whose head kept hitting against the armrest. George didn't respond, eyes trying to focus on the movie. Dream shrugged, reaching behind himself and grabbing the throw blanket. He loosely tossed it over George, who groaned in appreciation. Or maybe it was annoyance? It was hard to tell.

Dream kept his eyes on George, knowing the male was none the wiser. George's head fell once, twice, three times more before he gave up and got more comfortable. His legs stretched out over Dream's lap, head laying on the pillow he previously had against his back.

Dream was tense. His whole body went as rigid as a statue, unsure how to proceed. It's not the first time he was used as a leg rest, but his fantasies lately...

Dream's head snapped forward as the warmth of his companion leaked through his clothes. First, it wasn't noticeable. Just a heavy presence suddenly on his lap. Now he could feel George's heat sink into his clothes and spread through his legs. Of course, the night Dream wore sweatpants, the other wore shorts. Dream wished to feel the skin-on-skin contact.

Dream risked a glance at George. George's eyes were shut, mouth slightly agape. His breathing was deep, even. Clear signs of slumber. Dream kept his eyes on him as he slowly peeled the blanket back, just enough to sneak a hand under. He paused long enough to monitor George, who made no movements.

Dream, heart pounding a mile a minute, slowly placed one finger on George's ankle. With a deep breath, he began to trace along George's leg. The other wasn't a very deep sleeper, but he wasn't easy to wake either. Especially not when he took couch naps.

One finger turned into two, pressure hard enough not to tickle, he didn't want to be mistaken as a spider. Licking his lips, he traced up until he was at George's knee. Slowly he inched up onto the other's thigh, stopping as soon as he felt the edge of boxers. By now, Dream's dick was hard and straining in his pajamas.

Dream outlined the edge of the boxers. They were a little above mid-thigh, covering George's ass tightly . He wanted to go higher, but he felt it was too risky. Instead, he traced back down and moved one of his legs so his covered cock sat between George's shins. It twitched with excitement, with need .

He knew it was a bad idea. A really, fucking bad idea. But the horniness in his brain didn't care. He needed to feel George's warmth directly against his aching dick. Using the flaps on his sweatpants and boxers, his cock sprang out of its cage and smacked against one of George's shins. Dream froze, eyes quickly turning to the still undisturbed George. He was none the wiser.

Dream huffed a sign of relief as his tip rubbed roughing against the blanket. He felt the slick of precum wet the material and he mumbled a prayer of forgiveness to the sleeping one next to him.

He shifted George once more until his cock was tightly sealed between the others' legs. He didn't need much to cum, honestly, the warmth of the person he desired almost sent him over the edge. He had to practically beg his brain to stop sending the zapping pleasure through him. Testing, he shifted his hips upward. Just enough for his skin to drag down. He turned his full attention to George, biting his bottom lip to cover the pleasant hums of approval for the sleeping male. George was still sound asleep. That was all Dream needed.

Dream slowly shifted his hips, cock barely dragging between the others' legs. He continued, only picking up speed when the stimulation was too much and not enough. He felt his balls drag up, knowing his fun was coming close to an end. One last time, Dream dragged his hand upward and traced along George's thighs. He wondered how deeply the other would have to be asleep to not notice his cock thrusting between his thighs or against his ass. The thought, along with George's warmth, sent him over the edge. He shuttered and his hips fell back on the couch.

George shifted in his sleep, legs tightening against Dream's pulsing dick. Dream had to bite down to not moan out at the slight pain. Once he felt his cock slowly soften, he peeled the blanket back and snapshotted the image of George's legs covered in cum to his memory bank.

Again, risking it all, Dream pulled out his phone from under George and quickly took photos of the scene. One of his soft cock laying against the other's leg. One of the cum that pooled on him and the blanket. Another of George's sleeping, blissfully unaware face. He sent his phone down, hand tracing around the drops of cum. He debated on wiping it up when he had a suddenly, way better idea.

He used two fingers to smear it into George's leg hair and skin. It would crust, but it's not like George would notice anyway. Not until Dream was long gone, at least. Taking his phone, he recorded. His dick twitched with interest, but he couldn't go another round. He was dumb, not idiotic.

He shoved his cock back into his pants and slowly shifted George until his legs were next to Dream's thighs. Dream stood and took another photo of George, smiling fondly.

Dream walked to the loveseat and stole the blanket from there, wondering if switching them out would disturb the other. He decided to chance it. It was one thing to smear cum into his leg, another to let him sleep with a blanket drenched in it.

Chapter Text

Touching George the way he did the night before was dangerous. Out of his lust-filled mind, Dream realized how deeply he fucked up. He crossed a boundary that was never meant to be crossed. Perverts and monsters were the only people who would pray upon their sleeping friends. Is that what Dream mounted up to? A perverted monster?

He locked himself in his room all day, heart racing a mile a minute at the sound of footsteps. If his stomach held anything in it, he knew he would be sick all over the floor. All day, he waited to be called out, to be attacked and shamed for what he did. After all, he left evidence all over George's body (technically, just one area). He knew he deserved to be removed from the house, to be sent to jail. If George just asked, made a curious statement about what lay upon his body, Dream would break. He would crack and confess, falling to his knees as if George was a preacher waiting for a confession. The only one capable of forgiving and releasing Dream of his sins.

But that knock never came. In fact, from what Dream could hear, George went along with his day like he noticed nothing. Even awake, George was none the wiser.

Still, Dream lay hidden behind a locked door. His eyes and ears constantly straining for a noise, a movement that meant his demise.

His routine went as follows for the next week:

Wake up in a cold sweat, straining for any odd movements. When none came, he used the bathroom and rushed to his room before his roommates could approach. He would sit, for hours picking out and examining noises from George's side of the wall. He fought tooth and nail to push his desires down. He was in a deep haze of want and need to get off to George. To reach for his phone and relive that day. When night fell, he only slept after George's movements stilled.

A week, just a week, of pushing down his desires left him incredibly pent up and on edge. His dick would constantly harden, only to fall slack as Dream ignored it. His paranoia faded by the seventh day and he gained enough courage to step out for a reason other than the bathroom; hunger.

As he slowly opened his door, he heard a wet, sticky noise flow down the hall. As quietly as his body and the tiled floors would allow , Dream snuck down the hall and peered around the corner. What he saw made his jaw slack, eyes widen and heart speed up.

George, the God that he was, sat with his back against the couch cushion. His legs spread in a delicate V, thighs twitching every down swipe. His head was thrown back, black headphones covering the only sense that would have saved him from the embarrassment of being seen. His eyes were tightly closed, mouth parted as pink tongue licked chapped lips. He had one hand tightly laced through a throw blanket, the other swiping along his beautiful cock.

And that it was. George's cock deserved to be worshipped , imagination and video recreation could never compare. It was a good five and a half inches, porcelain white at the base that shifted to a deep pink. It was thin, not much girth, but Dream never pictured it with any, to begin with. The tip cried a lovely translucent fluid. It pooled over and slipped down George's shaft, lubing up and creating a delicious sticky sound. Dream quickly pulled out his phone, boner smushed against the wall. He hit record, making sure to get every twitch and shudder on camera.

Dream knew few words to describe the scene laid out in front of him. Gorgeous, Godly, marvelous, any sinner's wet dream, the reason Dream lived, and more. He ground harshly against the wall, punishing and rewarding himself. He knew it was wrong to let George continue, to watch over his best friend's masturbation. He knew, but there was nothing in the world that would make him stop. A fire could break out and he would only momentarily glance, eyes drawn back to his drug. His addiction and desire ran through his veins, sending a shiver up and down his spine.

George seemed to love teasing . A spark of obsession zapped through his brain like a strike of lightning. Love oozed out of him as his thrusting against the wall sped up with George's movement. Next thing he knew, George was letting his adorable cock go, hips shaking with the force it took to stop. His dick twitched and twitched, the pink color deepening. Dream stopped too , hips pushed away from the wall.

It took a full twenty seconds before George regained his composure. His fingers danced around the base of his cock, sliding up and circling the tip with the same slow movement. George's head twisted, mouth tightly closed. It was clear he was frustrated and that he was feigning his enjoyment. What exactly was playing on those headphones?

Once again, Dream slowly pushed against the wall. Slow, teasing movements until George was speeding up again. This time, George didn't stop. His hand was moving with the need to cum. Dream scanned over his body, noting all the minor ticks that he was clos e.

George's toes curled, legs twitched and hips thrust loosely. His mouth opened and then shut tightly, jaw clenching with the force. His eyebrows drew close together, arm and hand stuttering and losing their rhythm.

Dream wanted to reach and touch. His head was foggy with everything. He felt close to passing out, momentarily forgetting to breathe. He slowly sucked in, afraid to make any more noise. His dick felt raw and sensitive grinding against the cotton of his boxers. Still, he kept his movements and matched the speed of his best friend.

His phone was still recording, hand trying to stay as still as his thrusting would let him. His lust overfilled him as George tipped over, the smallest amount of cum shooting from the tip. Clearly, George did this a lot. The thought, and the picture in front of him, had him following and cumming in his boxers. George's hand moved and pushed past overstimulation, dick twitching and slowly softening. Dream pushed off the wall and slowly stepped back towards his room. He couldn't be caught now.

As Dream slowly stepped into his room, he shut his door with a gentle click. Hopefully, George's headphones were still on. It wasn't loud enough to be noticeable but when people are paranoid, any noise is bad noise.

Dream's head swam with the live experience of his best friend. Never, in a million years, did he imagine he would have had a chance to capture perfection. But he just did! In his hand lay the video evidence that God also falls victim to human desires.

In an instant, although spent, his cock chubbed up. It would be a long, long night for the male.

Chapter Text

Dream's room felt warm and overheated. His skin was moist, a layer of sweat giving him an unnatural shine. The moonlight reflected off his window, casting the room with shadows. Dream's shadow was the only one moving.

Dream's back stuck to his gaming chair, sweat-soaked shirt tacky to the touch. In between his thighs lay the reason why his room was so warm. He was getting up to his usual activities.

On his computer played the video of George. The video of George touching himself. The video of George falling victim to his own desires. The footage was shaky in some parts, the first viewing had Dream cursing at the past, but he managed.

Dream had been at it for hours. His dick ached but if it could still get hard, how could he stop?

In the beginning, when he first viewed the video, his body only needed a couple of seconds before his orgasm reached its peak. Just viewing George, seeing his beautiful cock, had him spilling. Now, six orgasms in, he could watch the full video without dribbling all over himself.

It's not like he had much in store anyway. His last orgasm was just two little shots. He had a gut feeling, along with a burning of his skin, that this one would be the last, probably for a couple of days to a week.

The video replayed in the background, his eyes drawn to the figure. Dream could see a halo circling the ruffled hair of his best friend. Who knew if it was lack of water, dehydration from all the sweating, or if Dream was seeing something only privileged viewing by very few. The halo glowed, a perfect representation of what George was. An angel, a God, the only person worth worshipping in this shitty world.

His body spasmed, twitching and forcing the last bit of cum left in his balls. Dream glanced down at his cock, red and aching. He leaned back farther, chair tilting as sweat dripped down his spine. With a heavy sigh and one long glance, he turned off the video. His computer powered down, gentle hum silenced.

Peeling himself off the seat, his shirt was soaked and disgusting against his skin. He threw it off, hearing it land with a sickening slick in the corner. Standing, his cock pulsed with the pain of even the slightest of movements. He winced, wondering if a wet cloth would soothe it.

He opened his window, letting the warm air from overheated skin escape into the humid night. Outside wasn't any better, but the wind felt refreshing against damp skin. He stood, enjoying the feeling on his cock more than he should, before backing out of the moonlight. Although no one could see him, he didn't want to chance it.

A shower surely would refresh him.

The next day, his dick felt better if not a little under the weather. It was limp and slightly ached, but nothing like the night before. He couldn't wear boxers without flinching each time it rubbed, but sweats were baggy enough. When he thought lewd thoughts, it couldn't even twitch with interest. Warmth would flood his stomach, tightening and fluttering with butterflies, but nothing would come of it. He couldn't get hard.

Which was a blessing.

He sat in the living room, the same spot George was just days ago, and although he was undeniably horny, he couldn't get it up. Shivers ran up and down his spine picturing George there, picturing himself doing what George did exactly . Still, his cock lay limp between his thighs.

"What's up?" George called over Dream's shoulder, walking down the hall towards the living room. Dream turned with a smile, noticing a small blush spread across sun-kissed cheeks. If it was from embarrassment, it was a little too late to feel that. So either George just did something in his room, or he knew something Dream didn't. George's ungraceful movements towards the kitchen sink answered him. Naughty .

What was it he just finished doing? Another headphone session? But that wouldn't lead to the ungraceful walk. Unless he was like Dream, achy.

Unless...

No. It was one thing to fantasize about fucking George, another to believe he would actually masturbate using his ass.

"What are you doing?"

"Washing my hands? Duh."

"Why?"

There was a pause, long enough for Dream to know the next sentence would be a lie.

"I'm making food," George mumbled, low. A blush darkened across his cheeks, down his neck. Dream licked his lips. He assumed Sapnap was in the bathroom, which is why he was there. Washing the cum off his hands. In the kitchen.

Dream turned to the TV, switching it on and playing some random show on Paramount. His mind was heavily distracted, new fantasies on play.

George did make himself some food, though it could barely be called a meal. He cut up an apple and spread some peanut butter on a plate. Dream could smell the peanut butter wafting through the house. Or, to him, it was wafting. He had a stronger sense of smell than most and the slightest disturbance was a lot to him. He could hear the crunch between teeth, the wet bite between perfection. What he would do to taste the concoction, the sweet and sour on a delicate tongue. He wanted to get up, march over, and kiss the other man until they ran out of air. Sucking out what little oxygen they could from one another.

So deep in his fantasy, that he didn't even hear the click of the plate on the metal sink. Or the soft thumping of socked feet on wood floors, approaching the couch. What he did notice was the pale fingers that trailed across his neck and down to his armpits. Ticklish fingers danced across him causing him to flinch hard and pull the other man over the couch edge. George yelped in surprise, swatting away Dream's hands as he forcibly tickled back.

"Stop!" He all but screamed, laughter causing his voice to jump and tremble.

"Say it and I'll stop."

George squirmed under Dream, laughter coming out in wheezes. Dream would be impossibly hard if he had the ability, he knew it would be straining against his sweatpants. He knew he would be fighting his brain to not grind down and seek pleasure. He knew George would notice, freezing and staring at Dream with fear.

"Uncle!" George finally cried out, tears on the brink of falling. Dream instantly stopped, hands momentarily gently rubbing where he was just tickling. It was too gentle, too intimate. He stopped in an instant and pulled back.

"Don't start battles you can't win," Dream smirked, shrugging as he sat back down. In a flash, George was standing and pushing Dream down on the couch, He straddled him and hands went mercilessly over Dream's abdomen.

Dream's brain short-circuited.

He doubt George noticed or did it on purpose. But his ass was perfectly squished over Dream's cock. With each movement, George was grinding down.

Dream bucked his hips up, pretending like he was getting George off. George bounced, actually bounced, up and right back down. Dream could've came from the visual alone, but the feeling was more than he could handle. The momentum George had coming back down slapped on Dream's hips. If they were naked, he knew the noise would've echoed. Would've properly hurt. Could've left marks. If only. George tightened his legs, a vicious smile on his pink lips. Dream was laughing, yes, but his head was spinning.

George was so, so, so warm on his cock. He bucked again just to feel George push down harder. He didn't bounce this time, which was disappointing, but that feeling quickly dissolved in his stomach.

After all, wasn't George practically riding him right now?

"Say it," George laughed, but Dream didn't want this to end. He doubted he ever would say it, even as his stomach tensed and cramped.

In front, on top, sat his obsession. His unrequited love. His God. Would a mere mortal like him ever want perfection to get off and move on with his day? No. Never. George was laughing as well, body stuttering and shifting on top of Dream's still-soft cock. Lucky, wasn't he?

Dream shook his head, thrusting up one more time just to feel his cock slide between George's ass. George gasped, face instantly flushing and hands momentarily stilling. Dream wanted to groan out in pure pleasure. He was already warm, but between was unbelievably hot. Dream wondered if his soft dick touched against the other's hole. If his dick had gotten close to the place he desired to be most. He knew if he let this moment last too long, George would freak out... So much for letting his love sit on him forever.

Dream reached up and flipped George off the couch, Dream landed on top, using his hands to catch himself before he crushed the other. "I think I won."

George was staring up, face pale and slightly out of breath. Dream felt the pull to lean down and take what was his. To kiss and to lick and to suck on the parted lips of his best friend. He smelt like peanut butter, each puff of air ghosting over his lips. Dream opened his mouth to greedily suck in what the incubus under him let out. It felt warm on his tongue, tasting sweet. It wasn't fucking enough.

George rolled his eyes, "Whatever." Dream sat up before his ideas ran too far into reality. He had a triumphant smile, raising his fist in the air. But on the inside, he was still reeling from what happened. His dick still felt the warmth, although now it was cooling. His tongue still tasted the air, but only barely. Dream locked the feeling away, needed it to perfect his masturbation. Now he knew how warm George was, how heated his skin gets.

George sat up next, pulling himself to his feet and crashing back on the couch. "I could've won."

Dream glanced over, smirking. "Dude you like, never fucking win. Ever."

"What? Nuh-uh! I win on streams!"

Dream snorted, standing to stretch. His stomach hurt and his cock ached, he forgot about that, but his mind was a sea of George's. All riding him, all gasping, all wanting to be fucked by Dream's dick. "Those don't count out of streaming."

"Cheater," George mumbled, switching off the show Dream had absentmindedly put on. "I didn't know you like Ghost Adventures."

Dream felt his face shift to confusion. "Oh. Uh, yeah love it."

Who gave a fuck about Ghost Adventures when he was still picturing the show they had just put on? Dream's cock cooled back to its normal temperature. He regretted not having George bounce on it just once more. He wondered how long it would take for his penis to return to normal. He wondered what it would take to masturbate again.  

Chapter Text

If Dream had to name his favorite part of George, he would say all of him. From his unruly hair (George brushed it with his fingers) to his pale skin (it burned easily in the sun), down to his skinny figure (it was lean, well built for his height). If he were held at gunpoint and forced to choose, he might admit the part he wanted to touch most was George's lips. His lips gave snarky responses, laughed and cried against Dream's shoulder, and held every pleasure known to man. It would be Dream's greatest enjoyment to run his fingers against them, kiss them, and have them pressed against him. Anywhere, everywhere. 

Of course, his answer would probably change depending on his mood. He might say George's cock, which stood proud and red. He might declare his hands, which would look beautiful wrapped around Dream. He could even express his love for George's slightly plush thighs. 

Basically, there was no part of George that Dream couldn't worship. Every inch was worth eternal damnation for one trace of Dream's hand. For one flick of timid fingers against godly flesh. Even if it burned, if it hurt, Dream would suffer. 

Dream was a sap. A sick puppy who could only survive with the attention of his best friend. Who waited for his owner by the door, sneaking into rooms and comforting himself in what traces of George were left behind. 

Dream shuffled into George's room, grabbing the laundry basket George so kindly asked for Dream to place in the washing machine. His room was a little disorganized again, items strewn around like George was in some rush before he left. Which, as Dream recalled, a slightly flushed face from quickened steps and the sound of stomping feet against the tiled floor were what greeted Dream as he came home from an event. George was terrible with time, always stretching his routine until he had no time to actually make it to places. Somehow, though, George was never late. He is apparently recording today with someone - Dream might adore the male, but he didn't monitor his every move out of the house. Unless it involved a love interest. But it had been a year since the last, and at the time, Dream's love hadn't left the crush stage. Hadn't entered the obsession area. Who knows how he would act now?

Back then, it had been all internal. Flinches at the mention of her name. Sour moods when she came around, Dream constantly retreated to his room, pretending to be editing videos. His face showed one thing while his heart felt another. Now? Fuck. Good luck to whatever poor skank entered his best friend's life. His.HIS.

Dream pressed his nose against the basket, breathing in the smell of George. It clouded his mind, a blur of cologne and sweat. It felt heavy in his system, coursing through his bloodstream. 

Deep breath in,
Hold..
Fuck. That felt too good. 

Dream's cock hardened quickly with each breath. It was like he could taste him along his tongue. With one hand, he held a scrunched-up hoodie close to his nose while the other quickly undid his belt. His dick pushed against the basket, the fabric thinly laced and easily bendable. Dream leaned his whole body forward, squishing his cock between the open top of the clothes basket and his hand. 

Dream pumped his dick, skin twisting quickly with each wrist roll. Precum dribbled and smeared along the dirty clothes. His and his. All his..

Dream still had the hoodie against his nose, twisting the fabric in different sections. God's smell was an addiction; George's smell is something so unique it's impossible it has yet to be noticed by others. 

Dream came hard, almost falling over completely onto the basket. He dropped the hoodie to catch the bed frame, out of breath and feeling incredibly numb. 

Okay. Good. No one's done this yet. George. Is. His. 
---------
He couldn't let George find out that he had come all over them. He started the wash right away..

Is what he would like to say if he had a sense of normalcy. Dream threw the hoodie on top of the basket and dragged it to the washroom. He left it for George to deal with.. What a dirty boy George is. Cum soaked clothes out in the open... 
-----
George came home a couple of hours later, stumbling through the door with boxes. 
"SHO-" He yelped, tripping and dropping one. "Who keeps leaving their fucking shoes in the walkway!" 

"What's all this?" Dream picked up the fallen packages, helping George shut the door behind him. 

"Hopefully not the alcohol," George mumbled as he waddled to the kitchen, stepping uneasily. At first, Dream thought it was from the weight of the package. The one in his hands felt heavy, but not enough to throw off George. Looking closer... Yeah, he was intoxicated. 

"I got a bunch of shit Lins didn't want," George laughed, yawning sweetly. "Anyway, we did a drinking game, I lost big time. She gave me different kinds of drinks and some edibles and probably normal stuff." George shrugged before he started to strip off his clothes. "Laundry in the room?"

"In the wash room, yeah." Dream feigned opening the boxes left on the kitchen table, eyes drifting to George's drunken strip show. George walked towards the middle of the house. Dream swiftly followed.

"How was the sesh?"

"Fun," George fumbled with one shoe and then the other, "You know how it is. Once you get into the momentum," one sock thrown in the machine and then the other, "Time passes quickly. Especially when drinks are involved." George struggled with his belt, fingers fumbling with the clasp. "Fucking sucking ducking-"

"Let me." Dream stepped into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him, as it had been previously held open by him leaning against it. His fingers fell over George's drunken ones. George didn't move his hands, a satisfied smile upon his lips. 

Dream slowly laced his fingers over George's, pushing them against George's hips. Dream's knuckles traced against bare skin, a quiet inhale coming from the male in front of him. "Whoops," Dream faked innocence, letting go to properly unbuckle the belt.

"Thank you," George nodded, glancing anywhere but into Dream's eyes. He swayed before sliding his belt out of the loops. His pants fell lower and revealed a pair of sleek black trunks (Dream knew it was trunks because he literally has a pair stored away he stole a while ago.) "Um, could you get me some water?"

"Of course." Dream opened the laundry room, letting it click shut behind him and hiding George's beauty once more. He barely had enough time to process how soft the skin against George's belly was. Or how sweet the sound of his inhale. Dream wanted to catch the next inhale in a kiss, wanted to devour his tongue and taste what alcohol he had sipped on all day. 

Dream got George a bottle of water and a sleeping aid (it wasn't advised to take unless prescribed, but Dream googled that every once in a while is fine). George managed to start the wash and stumbled his way into his room. Dream knocked, the door slipping open with each hit. 

"It's obviously open." 

"Okay, fuckass. Next time I'll just slam this shit open and won't feel ashamed if you're naked." Dream glanced around the room. It hadn't changed since he was in there last, which was honestly only right before George came home. What can he say? He missed him. 

George lay in his trunks and a random gray tee. It barely fell below his stomach, showing a bit of the skin between his V-line and underbelly. The trunks were barely a hand long, and a little bit of his plump ass lay smushed against the bed. Pale skin in a tauntingly teasing view. 

"You want a hangover med?" Dream asked, opening the water and the gummies he had nabbed off the bedside table. 

"Hangover?"

"Well, so you don't puke while you take a nap."

"Oh! Yeah, of course." George extended his hand, and like the good trusting man he was, he took the snacks, the water, and the pill without even double-checking what he was swallowing down. 

"Good," Dream stopped himself from breathing out the next word, how he wanted to praise the male before him so sweetly. "Let's put on a movie."

George's gaze looked watery, a little drifty, and his body was extra lax. "Put something delicious on right now, and I promise you I'll have the tastiest dreams." 

Dream felt his gentle reminder wake up, where it lay crowded in his pants. He looked for a show to give George dreams that were almost orgasmic.  
----
It didn't take George long to pass out. His body lay limp against the mattress, head facing towards the TV, mouth slightly ajar. 

"George," Dream whispered, testingly. Not a slight twitch. Dream slowly repeated his name louder three more times before he felt satisfied. George had put on a pair of sweats and one of the softest hoodies possible. 

No, seriously. 

Dream ran his fingers along the sleeves' cuffs, testing to see how George reacted to physical stimulation. As his finger traced George's arm, he couldn't help but genuinely gasp at the texture. Holy shit, how much was this thing worth to feel this good?

Dream snapped back into the present at the slightest of flinches from George, reacting to the rough way Dream was now massaging his unconscious forearm. "Oops," Dream loosened and let go of his grip quickly, "Sorry."

George's chest rose and his nose twitched, but there was nothing else. No other signs of being awake. 

A little drool dribbled out of George's plush pink lips, and oh, that's what this is all for. 

Dream shifted on the beanbag next to George's bed, the noise causing a pause only for a second before he practically crawled his way over the beanbag. He half lay on it and half draped over the bed, looking down at his sleeping God. Magnificence. Angelic. Delicious..

His hand traced along his jaw, ticklish and light. He only had this one chance. Like the lovesick follower he was, Dream leaned down and drank up what he felt he may deserve. A kiss. A press of lips upon lips. A sacred moment with his God. 

Once became twice and then three and four. Little pecks became longer presses, gentle yet intoxicating. He wanted to lick inside, he wanted to sink in deeply, and taste every inch..

Wait, so why didn't he?  

Dream leaned in so quickly teeth almost clashed. He slowed, took a deep breath, and paced himself. Again, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. ONCE.

George had the flavoring of pineapples and vodka. Or what he assumed was vodka. It was George's favorite mix because it could be 'so well hidden, pineapple just taste sharp.' And it was easy as fuck to mix. 

George's tongue lay limp, like waiting to be lavished by Dream's, who could hardly make his God wait. 

Fuuucccckkkk, if Dream could hold onto the way George's tongue tastes, if he could put it into a memory, something he could revisit every second of the day, he would. The way it felt, the way it lay, the way George just fucking was. 

 Dream needed a second. He reached a state of hardness no man thought possible. A scrape against one lip would probably have him popping. Hell, thinking about it almost made him cum in his pants. Which would be worth it. Every single kiss that passed and he planned to do was all worth it. 

But he craved more. He leaned back and appreciated George. His lips, once a pale pink, are now approaching red. A little plumper, glossier. Teeth shimmer behind, mouth now wider. It could be a little wider. 

Again, picturing felt like a lot, but no physical contact helped reduce the friction in his mind and down below. Dream slipped his hands under the waistline, dropping it only below the balls and leaving on his boxers.

He now stood on his knees, dick just perfectly lined up with his favorite person. Someone he dreamed of nightly, imagined daily. Who he adored and wanted to devour. Who he would devour. 

By now, George was letting out little puffs of air from his mouth instead of his nose. Dream leaannneddd... just enough.. to feel it through the fabric just barely. 

Agonizing. 

Dream quickly removed the boxers and let his cock spring free. It landed just a hair away from straight smacking George (they were very restrictive). 

A puff of air, a deep breath in. Another puff...

Dream shuddered; it ran through him and pulsed into his dick, which twitched with each and every humid breath. Are people usually this sensitive? He couldn't remember another person making him ever feel this desperate, this deep a longing. 

Leaning back, Dream positioned his tip towards the glossy pink lips. Pushing forward, the two met, and Dream watched every last second. He bottled the feeling of lips upon skin, the look of George having his cock almost in his mouth. He pushed more in and brushed against teeth. But even a wall felt desirable when it came to George. 

Dream laced his fingers under George's chin and pulled it down, his dick slipped in further. Just enough for him to rub along George's soft tongue. 

Dream bit his tongue a little just to relax the burst coursing through his stomach; he was so close and barely even realized it. 

He tried to rub two, three more times, but the visual was so much, and he WOULD NOT tear his eyes away, and the cum came quickly out all along George's tongue before he could pull away. 

It leaked...

And Dream just watched. 

He took his thumb and smeared it a little further down his tongue, watching the swallowing motion as George's mouth closed.