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They’ve been waiting for this for weeks, for the first time Sapnap strolls into the kitchen at noon, insists Dream cook him something to eat, and announces he’s booked a flight to go see Karl for a bit.
For the house to finally be empty, save the two of them.
George bites back a smile, eyes glued to the countertop, as he listens to the sounds of Dream giving in to Sapnap’s demands, moving around between cupboards and the pantry to gather the ingredients he needs. Can’t risk pissing him off now, while Sapnap isn’t privy to all the fleeting touches, whispered words, and heated gazes that Dream and George have shared over the past few months, he’s not a fool. George knows he knows. Sapnap knows how his presence around their home has prevented things from going further, knows that the fear of being overheard or discovered in some other way has stalled them.
“So,” George says, doing his very best to sound only casually interested, “When’s your flight?”
“Tomorrow, around lunch. And then I fly back next Sunday.” He answers, happily snatching the grilled cheese Dream holds out to him before turning tail and heading back towards his room. “Got to go pack! Dream, you’re dropping me off tomorrow!”
Dream chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as he moves all the dishes to the sink to wash. “Thank god he’s finally leaving.”
“Yeah, I was so close to getting the locks changed, Dream, you have no idea.” George says, moving around from his seat at the island to hop up onto the counter next to the sink, a much better angle to watch Dream from. “Wait until he heads out one day and then leave him to sort that out while I get you all to myself.”
Dream just smirks, busying himself with the dishes, leaving George to stare freely. This has quickly become a favourite version of Dream for him, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, brow creased in concentration, the way his hair tumbles forward as he leans down towards the sink and looks extra fluffy and tuggable.
And god, the chain he wears, golden and fine as spider silk, sometimes jostles free of his collar and hangs loosely, and it burns George from the inside out. Sapnap needs to get out of the house faster, he thinks, letting out a shaky exhale. We’ve been dancing around this for too long.
“New rule,” Dream’s voice is quiet and gravelly and makes George’s breath hitch. “You can’t be looking at me like that any more until Sapnap leaves tomorrow, ok?”
“And who’s going to stop me?” He teases, reaching a finger out to trace down the line of Dream’s throat, biting his cheek when he feels the motion of Dream swallowing hard under his touch.
“You’re a big boy, George, you can stop yourself.”
George hums, dragging his finger lower and twirling it into the chain. “I never knew you wore things like this, I like it.”
“Do you, now?” Dream’s voice is warm, but not in its usual affectionate, loving tone. It’s warm in the way fire licks through a forest, the way magma melts the very earth beneath it, warm in a way that leaves George surprised his skin doesn't bear marks where the words float over his flesh.
It incinerates.
“Yeah.” He whispers, and curls his finger tighter, giving the chain a few experimental tugs. Much to his pleasure, the tips of Dream’s ears flush pink and he makes a soft little sound in his throat, bracing his forearms on the edge of the counter as he sucks in a breath.
“Tomorrow, George. Please don’t make the wait harder than it needs to be.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll be good.” George laughs, pulling his hand away from Dream’s neck, and retreating to his own personal space.
“Well,” Dream says with a shrug. “I just need you to be good for today. Then I’m happy for you to be as bad as you want.”
~
It’s agonizing, the hour-long wait for Dream to get back from the airport. George does what he can to pass the time, he has a shower, scrubbing himself down with a fancy soap he bought specifically for this occasion, one with a scent he knows drives Dream crazy, he changes the sheets on his bed, double checks that the fresh bottle of lube he bought at the same time as the soap is still tucked away in his bedside drawer. Everything is in order.
Then his phone chimes out, the custom ringtone of “Oh George!” that marks Dream’s messages jarringly loud in the otherwise biting silence of the empty house, from where it rests on the top of George’s dresser, nestled among various knickknacks and a few framed photos.
My Pissbaby <3
Stuck in traffic, some idiot played chicken with a semi and lost, be home soon as I can :(
George groans, sending back a quick thumbs up before flopping over backwards to lay on the bed. It’s not a big deal, he tells himself, we’ve waited this long, what’s another half hour?
Another half hour until he finally gets his mouth on Dream’s skin, another half hour until he can touch without the dulling blockade of cotton and polyester, another half hour until he can paint Dream shades of crimson and mulberry with his teeth and be painted in return, another half hour until they finally get to take each other apart at the seams.
George can’t help it, it’s an involuntary response. It’s only natural after letting his imagination run wild with how the afternoon with Dream will go. He shifts around on the bed, trying to find a position to lay in that doesn't add to the sheen of sweat already appearing on his forehead, doesn't rub his pants against his swelling dick in a way that brings moans to rest behind his teeth.
Unfortunately, the more he tries to take his mind off what the rest of the day will hold for him, the more he thinks of it, and before long the pressure his jeans are causing is too much. Surely a little warm up now won’t ruin things when Dream gets back, right?
He undoes the button and slips the zipper down with haste, plunging his hand down to grip himself over his boxers immediately. Sighing deeply at the contact, he presses his palm firmly against the tip of his dick before letting it slide down the rest of his length.
His cheeks flush as he imagines Dream’s hand replacing his, he thinks somehow, it would feel hotter than his own, better in every way possible. His breath hitches as his fingers brush across the sensitive skin on the underside of his head, and he pulls his hand away for a moment.
He can’t cum yet, he needs to wait for Dream, and he’s getting too worked up thinking like this. He removes his hand from his pants entirely, resting it on his lower belly, and brings his other up to cover his face, laughing to himself.
Thoughts of Dream have long been his quickest route to an orgasm.
After a few minutes of deep breathing, and carefully directing his mind to conjure images of Sapnap’s feet, he feels calm enough to remove his hand from his face and relax his tensed muscles. His phone hasn’t dinged again, he hopes that means Dream is free of the traffic and driving, and will walk through the door at any moment.
Oh no. George sighs, memories of late night drives flooding his mind. Whispered adorations in a McDonald’s parking lot, hands resting on thighs and gently squeezing at stop lights, eyes on Dream’s profile as he’s set aflame in the final glow of the sun. No topic is safe, everything leads him back to Dream. It always leads him to Dream.
Fuck it. George jams his hand back down, under his boxers this time, closing his eyes and hissing at the contact. He moves his hand slowly, taking his time to spread the abundance of pre-cum down his shaft, wanting as smooth of a glide as possible. Helpfully, his brain provides the image of the pre-cum replaced by Dream’s spit, George’s hand becoming kiss bitten lips that can barely quell their smile long enough to swallow him down.
The whines that follow spill right from George’s heart.
Soft chucking fills the room. “What, you really couldn’t wait a few extra minutes George?”
George’s eyes fly open, a wide grin breaking across his face. If it had been anyone else, he would be mortified, but Dream? Dream’s his person, he doesn’t care what he walks in on him doing, he’s just glad he’s finally here. “No, I really couldn’t. Come here.” He sits up, meeting Dream’s gaze as he leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, pleased to see he’s beaming just as hard.
“As you wish,” Dream says, jumping forward onto the bed, laughing as he cages George under him, arms resting on either side of his head, fingers close enough to thread through his hair. His smile softens as he looks down at George, “Hi.”
“Hi,” George whispers into the small space left between them, humming and leaning into Dream’s touch as he winds his fingers through brunet locks. “Are you going to kiss me, or what?”
Breathy laughs echo around George’s soul, filling him with heat and happiness. “Hold your horses, I just want to look at you a bit.” Emerald eyes drag over George’s face, seemingly set on committing every cell to memory. He grows hot under their intensity.
“Dream,” George murmurs, “Don’t tease.”
“I’m not teasing,” he whispers, eyes heavy lidded as he presses his hips down into George’s. “I’m just taking a second to enjoy the moment.”
George puffs out a hard exhale at the touch of Dream’s groin against his, bringing his hands up and slipping them under Dream’s shirt and letting his fingers splay across the expanse of soft skin on his lower back.
Dream shudders, bowing his head for a second to rest on George’s shoulder, and when he lifts it a new development catches George’s eye.
The chain now hangs freely, mere inches above his face, and an idea strikes him.
“Dream,” he purrs, and before Dream can respond at all, George leans up and starts leaving a trail of kisses down the underside of his jaw.
The whimpers Dream makes are marvelous. Definitely on the list of George’s favourite sounds he can make, right up there with the way he moans during stretches after getting up from his desk for the first time in hours, and the one time George sprawled across his lap for a minute to reach something in a bid to avoid disturbing Patches as she slept on the other side of the sofa, and Dream had whispered a breathy little “fuck” so quietly that George thinks he wasn’t meant to hear. Yeah, that was a good sound.
As George’s lips reach the small hollow above Dream’s collarbone, he nips the skin tenderly, not nearly hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough that Dream rolls his hips down hard.
George pulls away, heart melting. Dream’s eyes are shining, jaw slack, cheeks bright red, and he’s looking at George as though he hung the moon and all the stars in the sky just for him, just for Dream.
And George would, a thousand times over, to see that look again.
However, right now, he wants something a little more carnal than soft gazes dripping with adoration and, dare he say, love. He wants lust.
His eyes track the sway of the golden chain as it moves with Dream’s heaving breaths, tongue slipping across his lips, and he reaches up to lick it.
Dream freezes.
Laughing softly, George hooks his tongue on the chain, pulling it into his mouth and sucking on it for a second. One of his hands slides up around Dream’s ribs and comes to rest on his bare chest, the pounding of his heart clear under George's fingertips. With a hum, he closes his teeth gently on the chain and lays his head back down, pulling Dream down with him.
“I said kiss me, baby.” He whispers into the shell of Dream’s ear now that he’s close enough, the pet name falling comfortably from his mouth.
And Dream does. Oh, Dream does.
They waste no time starting slow, Dream ensures that with a bite to George’s lower lip, immediately licking into his mouth as it opens, the hand in his hair knotting firmly and holding him still.
George moans, the sound only growing louder as it’s matched by a happy rumble from Dream’s chest, and tugs at the hem of Dream’s t-shirt. He pulls back, just enough to break the kiss, and whispers “Get all this shit off, now.”
Dream laughs loudly, grinning and shifting to straddle George’s thighs as he sits up. “Of course, babe. You too.”
George waits, though. He waits to pull his own shirt off so he can get the simply wonderful view of Dream, towering above him, soft muscles rolling as he pulls his shirt up and over his head. He lets his hands wander, landing on the other’s knees, and slowly sliding up his thighs, stopping just short of the distinct bulge in his sweats.
Dream looks down at him with a smile and shakes his head. “You too, George, come on now.” He hooks his pinkie under George’s shirt, pushing it up slightly. “I can’t do nearly everything I want to if you’re still dressed.”
Sitting up, and between fervent open mouthed kisses that stake their claim across Dream’s chest, George presses quietly, “And what are all the things you want to do to me?”
“Well,” Dream starts as he tugs George’s shirt up and over his head, bringing a hand to his hair to comb it with his fingers. “First, I’m going to undress the rest of you, because this?” He trails his fingers down the skin of George’s chest and stomach, trembling under his touch, “This is not nearly enough of you bared for my tastes.”
God, the man knows just what to say to get George in a frenzy. He slips the tips of his fingers under Dream’s waistband, reveling in the goosebumps that explode across his skin.
“And then,” he continues, voice a little more strained than it was a moment ago, “I’m going to kiss every square inch of your body. And I mean every square inch, George.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, Dream, fuck.” George shudders, pressing his thumbs hard into the line of Dream’s hips. “Keep talking.”
Dream hums, bringing his hand from George’s hair to the nape of his neck, tilting his face up and kissing him again. This kiss is slower, deeper, more, and George feels his bones turn to putty as he clings to Dream, pulling him forward on his lap and pressing down on his hips to encourage him to roll downwards again.
“And then, George, after I’ve gotten you all worked up and desperate, I want to fuck you, if you’ll have me.” The words are whispered delicately against George’s lips, Dream’s eyes roaming his face, and under the filthy words George can see a softness in his gaze, a tell of the depth of his adoration.
“Yes, please,” George answers, hands coming up to cradle Dream’s cheeks. “I want all of that, all of you.” He kisses Dream again, doing his best to pour all of his feelings, every last want and desire, into it. Tipping all his love, which he now knows this is, down Dream’s throat to coat his stomach and lungs and heart. “Just… can we just…” he trails off as Dream moves to suck a mark into the skin below his ear. Summoning all his willpower, he pulls Dream’s head back and drags his thumb over his lower lip. “Can we skip to the fucking today? I can’t wait anymore.”
Dream’s breath hitches, eyes wide and pupils blown out. “I, yeah. Yeah, we can uh. We can get right to that, if you want. I know I want, um, so if that’s what you…”
George cuts his flustered rambling off with a kiss, savouring every whimper and whine that falls from Dream’s mouth as his hair is tugged gently, as nails scrape over searing flesh. When they finally break apart, panting and flushed, the sense of urgency has returned between them.
“You have everything we need?” Dream asks, voice raw.
George nods towards his bedside table, grinning as Dream scrambles haphazardly across the bed to reach it. “Eager, are we?” He chuckled.
“Don’t pretend you aren’t, George.” Dream shoots back, smiling wide and planting a peck on the crown of George’s head as he uncaps the lube. “Pants off, baby.”
Together, all smiles and giggles, they undress each other the rest of the way, settling with George on his back and Dream kneeling between his legs, kissing down his sternum and across the planes of his stomach, pausing to suck a mark onto George’s hip and and ripping moans from his throat.
“Dream, I thought we agreed on jumping right to you fucking me?” George whines breathlessly, squirming as Dream drags his tongue across the head of his dick. It’s a good sensation, great even, but not what he’s after right now.
The vibrations of Dream’s laugh pressed against his inner thigh rock right through George’s body and send flames careening through his bones. “Give me a minute, baby, I gotta prep you first.”
“Well,” George huffs, biting hard on his lip as he drinks in the sight of blond hair and shining green eyes tucked between his legs. “Get to it, then.”
Dream is wonderfully thorough, working George open on his fingers skillfully, soothing any burning stretching with doting kissing and bites places sweetly across his chest and belly, and before long, George is writing beneath him, tipping ever closer to the edge, heat pooling in his gut, muscles feeling like coiled springs, ready to snap, and, and…
“Dream, Dream stop,” He gasps, fingers flying down to clutch at Dream’s hand gripping his hip.
Dream pulls away immediately. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?” His eyes shine with worry, his brows pressed into a firm line.
“No, no,” George laughs, propping himself up on his elbow so he can reach to place a kiss on the tip of Dream’s nose. “I was getting close, and I don’t want to cum until you’re inside of me. That’s all.”
“Oh.” A beautiful shade of pink spreads across Dream’s cheeks. “You’re ready? For me?”
George nods, humming happily as Dream connects their lips again and shifts to get in position, hiking George’s legs up to wrap around his waist.
He feels Dream’s dick pressing against him when he stalls and speaks again.
“Ready?” Dream asks once more, voice honeyed and tender.
“Dream, my baby,” George coos, arms wrapping around Dream’s shoulders and holding him snugly. “I’ve been ready for a while now.”
They smile, knowing ‘a while’ goes far beyond today, far beyond George’s arrival in Florida, back to the days of sixteen hour calls and staying awake to sync sleep schedules, the days of clutching phones to chests listening to loving words muttered in unconsciousness, never to be brought up again, the days of scrolling through hundreds of drawings and illustrations wondering if any of them would look like the man behind the mask, the man who had said “come with me” and swept his heart and soul into a frenzy.
The man who made dropping everything and moving across the globe for not even a question. The man who happily drowned George in the depths of his love, and who George swam into deeper and deeper, swallowing everything he could, succumbing blissfully to all that Dream is.
They don’t break eye contact as Dream presses in, both of their chests heaving and hearts pounding, until Dream bottoms out, hips flush with George’s ass.
“Good?” Dream asks breathlessly.
“Oh yeah, very,” George nods, just as breathless. “Go when you’re ready.”
With one more kiss, Dream lifts himself up so his hands are pressed into the sheets on either side of George’s head, and slowly starts rocking his hips.
George moans, tipping his head back against the pillows and grabbing at Dream’s forearms as his thrusts gradually speed up. “I’m not going to last, Dream,” he gasps out, pressure already building in his core again.
“Look at me baby, please.” Dream says from above him, sounding wrecked.
He looks wrecked too, George notices. He looks wrecked, and much to George’s pleasure, has his hair flopped forward in the same way as he does when he washed the dishes. Very fluffy and very tuggable.
A whine escapes his lips as his eyes trail downwards.
With each thrust, that damn chain sways and jumps, the afternoon sun glinting off of it and throwing sparkles into George’s eyes.
“Dream,” he whimpers, pulling him down to lay over his chest. Dream follows easily, leaning his head into the crook of George’s neck and sliding his hands under George’s body to pull him close and hold him tight as he fucks into him. “Dream, I love you so much, I have for so long now. God, I love you.”
Dream makes a soft, choked out sound into George’s shoulder, thrusts growing sloppy and inconsistent.
Searing heat coils in George’s abdomen. “I’m close, I’m—”
Dream kisses him hard, bringing a hand between them and wrapping around George, jerking him off in time with his thrusts, and within moments he’s cumming across his stomach and Dream’s fist, gasping against Dream’s mouth, and clawing at his back in bliss.
A couple hard ruts later, he feels Dream’s body tremble as he follows George over the edge, collapsing onto him as they come down from the highs and try to catch their breath. George rubs calming circles into Dream’s back, and presses occasional kisses to wherever on his head can be reached, until he feels Dream’s heart steady against his and his breathing slow.
“So about that love thing,” Dream murmurs, twisting just enough to be able to return some kisses to the side of George’s neck. “You meant that?”
“I did,” George hums. “I do.”
He feels Dream’s mouth pull into a smile against his skin. “Good. Me too.”
George nips at his ear. “What, I don’t get the actual words? I recall saying them to you at least twice. You can’t just ‘ditto’ me, Dream.”
“That’s fair,” Dream agrees, leaning back to be able to look at George. “And I think two is kind of a rookie number, so…”
He presses a fervent kiss to George’s forehead.
“I love you.”
Another to each cheek.
“I love you, George.”
And finally, one to his lips, burning and laced with everything both spoken and not.
“And I’ll love you forever, too.”