Work Text:
George is clicking through the presentation for the service, checking that all the songs are properly ordered and the lessons don’t have typos, when the hand closes around his wrist. He shivers violently, just a touch away from a flinch, before he catches sight of the hand’s owner.
“Dream!” He exclaims, shoving the boy’s shoulder with his free hand. “Don’t do that!”
Dream just laughs in response, tugging George gently away from the computer. “Come on,” he says, a wicked smile curving the side of his mouth.
“Where are we going?” George asks, trailing behind after a reluctant glance at the computer. Sapnap will kill him if something gets screwed up, even though George told him it was his week to run it and therefore his job to make sure everything was in place.
Rather than answering, Dream just smiles wider. George expects him to take them down the stairs, maybe to the library where he knows their families are chatting before the service begins. Instead, Dream releases his wrist to lift a keyring out of his pocket, fiddling with the lock of the storage closet almost directly behind the PowerPoint table. The knob turns under his grip and he opens the door, ushering George in before pulling it shut behind them, plunging the room back into semi-darkness.
It’s a tight fit, the two of them and the miscellaneous junk stored within. George nearly trips over a vacuum, catching himself against the metal shelving on the back wall, stacked high with bins of excess song books and Bibles. The only light comes from the thin line around the door back to the balcony, and George can barely see Dream’s features in the darkness.
“So…” He says, shuffling half a step backwards to give Dream more room. “Why are we here?”
“Romantic getaway.” George hears the shrug more than he sees it, eyes still adjusting to the closet’s dim lighting. “Don’t say I never take you anywhere nice.”
“Dream. This is a storage closet.”
“A nice storage closet.”
George blows out a frustrated breath, begrudgingly amused. “Yeah, alright. But why?”
“I can’t want to spend time with my boyfriend?”
A stab of panic runs through George’s chest, even just hearing the word. “You can’t say things like that.” He hisses, reflexively glancing towards the door, even though he knows no one’s there. His heart pounds frantically against his ribcage, stomach twisting into knots.
“Sorry.” George hears the vague sound of a sigh.“My best friend, then?” His disappointment is evident in his tone, resigned and slightly annoyed.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, Dream, it’s just…” The words stick in his throat, and he swallows instead of finishing, fear turning his stomach inside out. “I can’t, Dream, you know that.”
“I know.” Dream clears his throat, and his tone is more lighthearted when he continues. “Well, I hope you don’t think less of me for doing this, since we’re not dating or anything.”
“For doing wh-” George starts to say before Dream cuts him off with a kiss, hitting the corner of his mouth rather than the center, hindered by his eagerness and the darkness. He corrects himself quickly, pressing closer, a hand lifting to curl into the short hair at the back of George’s neck.
George sighs, sinking into the familiar action easily, clutching the fabric of Dream’s dress shirt with both hands. The words from earlier dance in the back of his head, trying to turn it sour and choking, but he wills them away, leaning further into Dream.
They kiss for a minute, deaf to the world continuing outside of the closet, until they hear voices approaching the door. George listens with half his attention, still caught up in DreamDreamDream when the other boy pulls back. Embarrassingly, George tries to chase his lips, but Dream stops him with a hand on his jaw, holding him back as he turns his head to watch the door.
“-no idea where he could be,” an easily recognizable voice grumbles, steadily increasing in volume as Sapnap approaches the closet. “George or Dream, seriously, they were supposed to be helping me with this.”
“To be fair, it’s your week,” another voice replies. Karl.
“Doesn’t mean I have to do it all myself.” The sound of fingers tapping at a keyboard follows this statement.
“I mean…” Karl trails off with a laugh, yelping in response to what sounds like a playful slap. “It’s the truth, man, what do you want?”
“Some sympathy, dude. They abandoned me.”
“Abandoned is a strong word-”
“I had to deal with Pastor Heidi. Alone. She asked me if I had a girlfriend.”
Karl spills into laughter. “What did you say?”
“I said no, dude, what do you think?”
“Loser.”
“Jerk.”
“Boys.” A new voice scolds. George feels Dream stiffen in front of him, confirming what he already knew.
Just to be sure, he asks, voice low. “Your mom?”
“Unfortunately.” Dream whispers back.
Outside the closet, Dream’s mom continues. “The service starts in three minutes, Nick, you should have the projection up already.”
“Sure thing.” Sapnap says, voice audibly more respectful than before. He returns to typing on the keyboard.
“How are we supposed to get out?” George hisses to Dream, lifting himself onto his tiptoes to get closer to his ear, paranoid about the silence outside of their closet.
“We aren’t.” He mutters back, pulling his phone from his back pocket. The light of the screen nearly blinds George and he squints as Dream opens his text app.
Birthgiver
(9:28) hey mom, me and george won’t be in service today- heidi asked for some help with organizing the sunday school rooms for small group next week. sorry for the late notice!!
The ding of a notification comes through the door, then Dream’s mom sighs. “This child will kill me one day.”
“Ma’am?” Karl asks.
“Dream and George are helping Pastor Heidi with some task for the Bible study two Wednesdays from now and won’t be in service. And he didn’t think to tell me about it until now.” She sighs again.
“Oh.” Sapnap says, thoughtful. “I was wondering where they were. Normally they help me get this set up.”
Before either Karl or Dream’s mom can reply, the sound of the piano drifts over the balcony, and the muffled chatter of families quiets. George hears a hushed “oh!” from Dream’s mom before her heels tap away on the hardwood floor, followed by another pair of footsteps and the shrill squeak of someone settling into the ancient spinny chair at the presentation desk.
“Okay, that’s bad.” Dream says as the music swells, joined by the soft humming of the chorus.
“You have got to be kidding me. This was your idea.” George groans, thudding his head into Dream’s shoulder. “You don’t get to decide that it was a bad one now.”
“I didn’t know we would get trapped in here!”
“Maybe it should have crossed your mind before you cornered me with five minutes until worship.”
“Well.” Dream says, hand gripping George’s jaw carefully. “At least we have a lot of time now.”
George groans again, but leans in anyway, welcoming the distraction from the rising voices of the congregation, starting the intro song. “You know we’re going to actually have to help Heidi now, right? There’s no way she doesn’t tell your mom. The most we can hope for is that she’ll forget exactly when it was.”
“I really, really don’t want to be thinking about Heidi right now.” Dream murmurs, tracing his lips up George’s cheekbone to ghost over his ear. George exhales shakily when his teeth close over the shell, grazing the skin with just a hint of sharpness.
“What do you want to think about?” He says, cursing the breathiness of his voice.
Dream’s exhale puffs over the soft skin under his ear. “What do you think?”
Impatient, George twists both his hands into Dream’s hair, dragging him back up to lock their lips together. They kiss steadily for a few moments, greedy if not overly demanding, before Dream swipes a tongue over George’s bottom lip and he groans, opening his mouth to let him in.
The kiss turns dirty in a matter of seconds, Dream licking messily into George’s mouth, biting at his bottom lip and letting it spring back into place. Just when George starts to get breathless, unconscious noises slipping from somewhere within his throat, Dream withdraws, letting them both catch their breath.
George barely pauses long enough for two breaths before diving in again, not towards Dream’s mouth but towards his collarbone, just barely exposed by the off-center slant of his button up, shifted by their earlier movements. Sucking gently, he bites down, exciting in Dream’s sharp inhale as his fingers thread through the smaller boy’s hair. George lingers there for a second, admiring the darker tint of the skin, just visible now that his eyes have adjusted to the lack of light.
Abruptly, Dream drags his head away, and George lets out a small cry at the forced change in angle, neck pulled into a tight arch by Dream’s hand in his hair. He pants slightly, wincing at the strain, before the hand, too, is gone, and all of a sudden he’s looking down at his- friend, friend, his friend- instead of up.
“Dream, what?” He whispers, eyes lingering on the mischievous glint of Dream’s eyes as the boy sinks to his knees. Hands on his belt jar him back into movement, and he bats them away, glancing paranoidly towards the door once more. Dream is persistent, though, and his fingers are back almost as soon as they’re gone, neatly undoing the buckle and clasp of his pants before George can protest again.
“Dream,” he hisses, desperately ignoring the way heat pools in his stomach at the sight of Dream so close to his crotch, filled with the single-minded determination to get what he wants. “Dream, we can’t do this here, what is wrong with you-”
“Why not?”
“Wh- you know why!”
“I do?” George can hear the smirk in his voice. “Remind me really fast.”
“Because-” George splutters as cool fingers touch his skin, sliding under his shirt to stroke over his hip bones. “Dream, stop.”
“I’m not hearing an explanation, George…” Dream’s voice teases at the edges of George’s resistance, but he forces himself to focus, reminding himself of the people- the families, God, even his and Dream’s and Sapnap’s- right outside the door. The pastor (not Heidi- small miracles) is just starting the welcoming paragraph, introducing the second hymn of the service.
“We’re in church, Dream.”
“So?” George just glimpses a flash of teeth in the dim light before Dream ducks to nip at the skin beneath his hands, biting gently at George’s hip, the top of his thigh. The fingers of his right hand slide further up to rub over the nub of George’s nipples until he squeaks at the friction. “I’m worshipping.”
Surprised, George lets out an amused huff, feeling Dream’s own laughter spill over his skin. “I cannot believe you just said that.”
“Look, George, I’m on my knees and everything.”
Snorting, George sets a hand on Dream’s head, intent on pushing him away, but at that exact moment Dream’s hand closes around his dick and he ends up clenching his fingers around the strands instead, inhaling sharply.
He’s already half-hard, but Dream gets him up in less than a minute, collecting the precum gathering at the tip to ease the slide. Outside, the hymn crescendos into completion, brothers and sisters practically shouting over each other to prove their place as the best singer in the family. Biting one of his knuckles to keep back the noises, George feels a blush crawl over his skin, shame and arousal mixing into an intoxicating feeling that turns his legs to liquid, making him jerk into Dream’s hand.
“Dream-” He says, cutting himself off with a gasp. For once, the other boy doesn’t have a witty reply, instead simply twisting his wrist on the upstroke in a way that sends sparks shooting through George’s stomach. A moment later, he feels the wet press of Dream’s tongue against the head of his cock and nearly short circuits, moaning through the hand in his mouth.
Dream starts slow, just licks, circling the head and tonguing through the slit, then in stripes all the way from bottom to the top, hand moving in between. Already desperate, George tries to measure his breath- in through the nose, out through the mouth- not wanting to come undone too fast. It’s entirely useless. Even without suction, Dream’s enthusiasm and clever tongue have him shaking far too soon.
When George chokes his way through a loud moan, Dream sits back, pumping George’s dick with one hand as he wipes at his own chin with his other. “You’re gonna have to be quieter, George. Don’t you know where we are?”
“Wh- You-” George stutters, too caught up in the too much-too much-not enough-gone to process the words. He curls the fingers of his left hand back into Dream’s hair, not pressing him down, just to give himself something to hold onto.
“Shhh.” Dream says, ducking close enough that George can feel the fan of air on his cock, cold and foreign. “Before I make you.”
George can’t even begin to process that sentence before Dream effectively stops all his trains of thought by taking the head into his mouth. He’s forced to clap a hand over his own mouth, biting at the skin of his palm as Dream sucks, swirling his tongue before pulling off with a slight pop.
“Better,” he says, just a hint of playfulness in his voice, before he’s going down again, further this time, hollowing his cheeks in a way that drives George crazy. Dream isn’t the most experienced- no matter how often they sneak away, it’s not exactly a skill that a church-going suburban boy can perfect- but the sloppiness makes it better: a scrape of teeth on the upstroke, a slight cough when he goes too long without breathing, the slurping sound he makes when he tries to stop the spit from dribbling down his chin.
Which is what he’s doing now, licking his lips to try and catch the trail before quickly giving up and returning. The switch from hot-wet-hot to cold is just as stark the other way around, and George’s head thuds against the wall as he processes it, chest heaving.
“Dream,” George moans, barely audible through the hand still pressed against his mouth, and he can feel the answering groan reverberating around his cock, causing him to jerk slightly. The movement makes his dick slide further into Dream’s mouth, and the resulting gag is almost enough to make George lose it, the aching heat in his stomach coiling tighter and tighter. He bites on his palm hard enough for pain to lace up his arm, slapping at the wall behind him with the other hand in a desperate attempt to ground himself.
When he can think again (just barely), he taps Dream’s head in warning, trying to be courteous. The boy pulls back, letting George thrust into his fist for a few breaths as he recovers. Then, without any warning other than a deep breath, Dream takes George’s cock back into his mouth and dips down far enough that George can feel his throat working around it, tightening as he gags again, literally choking on George’s dick.
George’s vision whites out as he cums, moaning Dream’s name loud enough that his hand can’t fully stifle it. Dream works him through it, shuffling on his knees and ducking his head to let George ride the aftershocks. He feels Dream pull off after a bit, feels him help George slide to the ground, sees the grimace on his face as he swallows, licking cum from his lips, a vision that sparks a valiant surge of arousal through George’s spent body.
When he can reliably move again, he leans back into Dream, catching his lips in a gentle kiss. Dream groans, one hand grasping George’s shoulder desperately, and George moves a hand to his crotch, joining Dream’s other hand already on his cock. A few more thrusts, a little tongue in the kiss, and it’s over, Dream hissing his way through George’s name as he spills over their fists.
They sit for a moment, catching their breath, listening to the pastor recount an anecdote that he clearly thinks is hilarious. (If nothing else, George thinks, at least I’m not listening to this sermon in a place where I have to actually pay attention.) After his legs no longer feel shaky, he stands and searches the shelves for paper towels, wiping his hand off before offering the roll to Dream. He takes it silently, cleaning up the mess on his own hand and stomach. He must have lost his shirt sometime during the scene- George sees it lying abandoned on the floor a few feet away.
“Dream?” George whispers, a little worried when the silence stretches more than a few minutes.
The boy’s head lolls his way, flashing him a barely visible grin. George waits with bated breath before he speaks. “No homo.”
“Dream!” George swats the back of his head, watching him duck, laughing softly. “I was worried about you, jerk.”
“Why? I just got exactly what I wanted from this encounter.”
“You- wanted- to drag me into a storage closet and suck me off which our families praised God a few feet away?”
“Well, not exactly that. But I’m certainly not complaining.” He pulls his shirt back over his body, shaking his head to fluff out his hair again. George stands still, watching as Dream’s eyes return to him. Which is why he sees the coy smile stretching across his face, hand drifting upwards to linger on his neck. “Like the way you fuck my throat, man.”
“Wh-” He splutters, caught completely off guard. Dream bursts into laughter again, muffling it behind his hand as George steps towards the less-cluttered corner of the closet, ruffling his hair passive aggressively as he goes.
“Dude.” Dream says, futilely trying to rearrange it without sight.
“You do not have the moral high ground here. I hate you.”
“Love you too, Georgie.”
“No. I hate you. I’m ignoring you.”
“No-o, George, we’ve still got like twenty minutes left.”
“I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time. Like being a creep.”
“I could find something better to occupy me if you helped.” Dream says hopefully, reaching a hand out for George.
“Fine.” George sighs, fighting a smile. He lets Dream pull him closer for a kiss. “I guess I don’t hate you.”
“I know.”
“Idiot.”
“I know.”
-
(“You guys are weirdos.” Sapnap says, opening the closet door after all the families have trickled out of the balcony. “You know this room isn’t soundproofed, right?”
Dream just slants a smirk at him. “Enjoy the show?”
Unamused, Sapnap levels a glare at George, who avoids his eyes, reddening. He sighs, opening the door wider so they can go past. “Next time I’m not going to bother turning up the speaker volume. Then the entire church can find out what huge freaks you are.”
“Thanks, Sap.” Dream says with that same grin, whisking George out and down the stairs with a hand on his wrist.
“Your shirt isn’t buttoned right!” Sapnap calls after him. When they’re gone, he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly.
“Weirdos,” he mutters. “Both of them.”)