Seeing George like this was more intoxicating than the vodka scorching his taste buds.
George would never understand just how much his short, pink skirt was affecting Dream, absolutely ruining his sensibility in the sway of his hips. George was a temptress, completely unknowing in how much power he held over Dream.
Dream had his eye on the man as soon as he entered the house with his friends. It was as if he had a magnetic pull, cutting through his foggy head and drawing him to the brunet despite being surrounded by pretty girls in low cut tops. And when George cleared the crowd and showed off his outfit, Dream was done for.
Sapnap teased him when he struggled to maintain the blond’s attention, attempting to get him to do something besides stare at George for the rest of the night.
“At least go talk to him, you little bitch,” Sapnap was as blunt as always, especially when it came to the stupid, little crush that Dream had. Sometimes it pissed Dream off, because it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t . He was afraid of the reaction that he could get from his friends, from his fucking fraternity brothers. He doubted his feelings would be welcomed with the same warm reception that he would get if George was a girl. “You do this every night.”
Unfortunately Sapnap was right. He did tend to do this often.
Every week their frat, or another house on campus, would throw a rager and George would appear like clockwork, ever the avid party-goer. Dream would typically find himself standing in a corner, nursing a bottle of beer and discreetly watching the brunet whenever he could. And then the next day, when he failed to talk to George, hungover and hurting, he found himself in Sapnap’s old bean bag chair, complaining about his stupid feelings. He couldn’t really blame Sapnap for being over it.
Just the thought of going up to George nearly made Dream’s throat close up with anxiety. Because God, was George intimidating. He was confident in himself, in his body, in his appearance. Everything . And while Dream was confident in his skin, he wasn’t nearly as comfortable with himself as he wished he was.
“Come on, get your shit together, man,” Sapnap nudged his ribs roughly, inciting a glare from Dream. “If you’re not going to do anything about your crush, at least come play some beer pong. You’ll feel better if you’re drunk, I promise.”
Dream rolled his eyes. He seriously doubted that. However, it was Sapnap who would face the aftermath of Dream’s hungover moping. Maybe finding a distraction would be a good idea, it would certainly make him feel like less of a creep for practically stalking a man who didn’t even know he existed.
Dream waved a hello to the few others at the beer pong table, including their opponents Punz and Sam, who looked too sober to be any good for his and Sapnap’s livers.
Even as he found himself immersed in a rigorous drinking game, losing more often than sinking a ball in a solo cup, he still caught himself looking into the crowd with the hope of catching sight of the illusive brunet. But then Sapnap would fucking miss again and more shitty beer was forced down their throats, distracting himself for a little bit longer.
That was until the game began to fizzle out, the party coming to a climax. He was certainly tipsy now, considering how embarrassingly they had lost during the game. He could feel the bass of crappy techno music through the soles of his sneakers, buzzing through his veins, shocking his nervous system. He felt Sapnap beside him, saying something but he wasn’t listening.
His eyes were back on the prettiest boy he had ever seen, standing atop of the coffee table with his scandalously short skirt and bare legs that begged to be touched. All he wanted to do was go up to him and run his hands over his thighs, his hips, his waist.
And then he was looking at him.
George was looking right at him as if he heard his dirty thoughts. And the little, teasing curve of his lips alluded to Dream that George knew exactly what was going on inside of his head.
He felt his entire body flush.
“Who’s George’s friend?” Sapnap’s voice cut through his mortification.
Dream shook his arm loose from his friend’s tight grip. Honestly, he didn’t even realize that George had a friend with him. He forced his focus away from the brunet and over to the boy standing beside him, someone he vaguely recognized but wasn’t sure from where. “Dunno. Why don’t you go ask?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m not a pussy like you.”
Dream really hadn’t thought that one through, because it was fucking true, Dream was a pussy. Sapnap started for the two men, ignoring Dream’s slurred protests, cheeks brightening. His friend didn’t even need to be tipsy, he would have probably gone up to them sober just to spite Dream’s months of pining.
Dream’s feet stayed rooted in place as his friend moved through the sea of bodies. He couldn’t move, and even if he could, he probably would’ve run the other direction. He knew that Sapnap wouldn’t openly out him, but he also knew his friend wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to fuck with him a little.
George continued to move his hips to the music, his skirt seemingly getting shorter underneath his white tee shirt. He was laughing at whatever his friend was saying, waving him off, unbothered. He only stopped his movements when he noticed Sapnap approaching.
Dream wanted to thread his hands through his hair and sink into the floor. It felt like he was watching a car accident, not wanting to look away but wishing he was anywhere else. How was it so easy for Sapnap? He could do anything without a second thought, talk to a guy he liked without any of the crippling anxiety. He didn’t care what people thought of him, so why did Dream?
Dream hadn’t realized he started to turn away until someone stumbled into him, passing by with a muttered apology. He glanced back to the table, only to see it replaced by a couple of girls he didn’t recognize. He skimmed the place, until he was startled to find freckled cheeks up close.
“Wanna do some shots with us, Dream?” Sapnap’s voice startled him, hands shaking his shoulders. His grin prompted Dream to accept the offer, an underlying message of don’t be fucking weird, dipshit.
Dream forced himself to relax, nodding and smiling politely at the two men he had in tow. The man that Sapnap had been so interested in gave a small wave, before being pulled off by his friend. George followed along, a fleeting smile in his wake.
Dream was going to throw up. And it wasn’t because of the shitty alcohol in his system.
Recollecting himself, Sapnap and the other brunet were already at the kitchen island. He found George approaching with a clear bottle, offering it to Dream with a pretty smile. “I’m George, by the way.”
I know . “Dream. Nice to meet you,” he glanced at the label. “Vanilla vodka?”
“Found it in the fridge. Finders, keepers.”
With that sound logic, Sapnap grabbed a few shot glasses from their appropriate display on a nearby shelf, before Dream poured them a round.
While he was not looking to blackout, especially during his first attempt at talking to George, he still threw his shot back. He watched George as he swallowed his own, peeking down and following the sharp lines of his jaw, his throat, down to his collarbones that were just barely poking out from the collar of his shirt. He was captivated.
After two, he resigned himself to watching George, who was able to hold his liquor surprisingly well. Karl however, was not, giggling at Sapnap’s little comments despite them being generally unfunny.
Dream made small conversation with George, feeling his heart swell when he got a few genuine laughs from the man. It felt like he was grasping at anything, any positive interaction he could get with the brunet, he was fine with; which was pretty fucking sad if you thought about it.
Maybe Dream was trying to protect himself, maybe he was just oblivious to George’s advances, but he knew he missed something when George lifted himself up on the countertop in front of him.
He held up a shot glass filled with vodka, grinning alluringly at Dream. “Do you want another one?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
He fluttered his lashes, feigning innocence. “Of course, not. Just thought you’d be interested.”
George leaned back onto his elbows, his shirt riding up to the waistband of his pretty skirt, clearly understanding the insinuation of his actions. He still didn’t quite accept that George was flirting with him.
Maybe it was the liquid courage in his veins, or the fact that he was nearly standing between George’s legs, but his nerves were suddenly nonexistent. “Oh, I’m interested.”
George beamed. He shifted ever so slightly to expose his lean abdomen. Dream kept his hands to himself despite how much he wanted to run them along every inch of George. Suddenly he didn’t care if he was surrounded by his friends, sure as hell didn’t give a shit if anyone saw them in this position. All he cared about in this moment was George.
With George’s position and a bit of giggling from the two of them, the execution was a bit scuffed, trying to balance the shot on his stomach. In the end, with a bit of the vodka pooling on his skin, he leaned down and took the shot glass into his mouth, downing the liquid.
He nearly dropped the glass when he saw the half-lidded, seductive expression of George. Almost didn’t notice that he had placed his palm on the smooth skin of his knee. They stared at one another for a few moments, feeling like hours, never wanting to break away.
“You going to clean up your mess?”
Whatever he expected from the situation, it wasn’t that. But who was he to question it? He had made a mess after all.
He maintained eye contact with an inkling of worry, should George decide that he wanted nothing to do with Dream. He didn’t move away however, allowing Dream to press a small kiss just below his sternum. When the touch was well received, he opened his mouth to press another. It was when he slid the flat of his tongue against his naval that he finally pulled a noise from the brunet’s lips. He tasted the vanilla vodka that had flooded there, the flavor somehow matching the man’s electrifying persona. He wanted to know how his tongue tasted.
George gasped, almost causing Dream to pull away completely, until he saw his blown-out pupils.
Dream only shuffled closer, so that he was properly situated between George’s thighs, feeling the man pulling him ever closer.
Experimentally, he ran his fingers lightly over his bare thighs, captivated by the way the brunet shivered underneath his touch. He continued upward until he hit the hem of his skirt, which had risen dangerously. He wet his lips as he toyed with the fabric, dragging a finger underneath teasingly, before placing his palms onto his skin, squeezing the flesh.
George knocked his foot against Dream’s knee, narrowing his eyes. “Quit teasing.”
“You’ve been teasing me all night, Georgie,” Dream noted the way he shifted at the nickname, how his teeth bit at his lower lip. “I watched you dance. You wanted everyone to see you in your pretty, little skirt, huh?”
He responded with a pout, one of his small hands coming to rest on his own, the one that was still palming his upper thigh. “Come on, touch me, please. For me?”
Dream was impressed by his resolve, George’s words going straight to his dick. “We have all night.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to finally notice me,” George admitted quietly, looking away, his playful expression morphing into one of embarrassment. “I wore the skirt so maybe, maybe you’d notice me.”
George wanted Dream to notice him?
He must’ve stayed quiet for a touch too long, as George eventually forced his eyes back up to meet Dream’s. His pale cheeks colored deeper. “You know what…”
“I’m an idiot.”
Dream pulled him forward so he was seated where they sat face-to-face. Their faces were so closer, he could feel George’s sharp breath against his cheeks.
“Can I kiss you?”
George didn’t hesitate to answer Dream’s question by closing the gap himself.
His lips were soft, so soft against his. He couldn’t have conjured up an imagination in his head that compared close to the real thing. Everything about it lit up every nerve ending in his body. When George parted his lips, inviting Dream to deepen the kiss, he felt his head spin. He’d never be able to drink vanilla vodka again without thinking about his moment with George.
The kiss proceeded with increasing fervor. He felt their teeth clash together, their tongues savoring the taste of one another. Dream didn’t allow his hands to stop traveling the planes of George’s body, eventually finding their way underneath his thin tee shirt. He became aware of George’s hands on his own body, particularly when they kneaded into his hair, tugging playfully.
As much as he never wanted to part from this man, he slowly came to the realization that they were not the only ones in the room. He came to this conclusion just as George’s hair-pulling resulted in an embarrassingly wanton moan from Dream’s throat.
He pulled away, not moving very far, though. “Do you want to get out of here?”
George bit his lip and nodded. He allowed himself to be enveloped underneath Dream’s arm after he helped him off of the countertop, wrapping his own arm around Dream’s slim waist. The position felt so right , he couldn’t explain it. Something about the man being pressed to his side, his arm slung over his shoulder possessively, felt perfect.
Dream glanced over his shoulder as they started from the room, knowingly spotting Sapnap with Karl, who gave him a wide grin and a motivational thumbs-up. He flipped him off behind George’s back.
The walk to Dream’s apartment wasn’t far. They stumbled along, still quite intoxicated from their party habits. The conversation flowed with nothing of real importance, mostly George speaking, pointing out random things like the glittering night sky or something he found interesting in a lawn. He had even decided to scoop up a pinecone, slipping it into Dream’s pocket when he thought he wasn’t paying attention. Dream could listen to the man speak for hours, even if it was about nothing, even if it was just the rambling thoughts inside of his head. If Dream hadn’t practically been in love with the guy before, he was only falling harder for him by the second.
When they turned up at the apartment building, they hiked up the few flights of stairs, George pulling his arm despite not knowing which apartment was Dream’s. When they got to the second floor, Dream unlocked his door and nearly stumbled when George pulled him inside.
“You’re eager,” Dream teased.
“You’re not?” George spun around, skirt flailing around his waist. His smile was nothing short of licentious. Dream’s eyes scanned his figure, watching closely as George ran a nimble hand up his own thigh, sliding the hem of his skirt up to his hip, showing off a sliver of the lacy underwear he had been hiding. “But if you’re not into it, don’t worry, I can go.”
Dream didn’t bother with a verbal response, finalizing his feelings with a rough kiss. George pressed back just as firmly, cold hands shoving underneath his clothing and skimming his nails against the smooth skin of his back.
“Up,” he said against his lips, lifting George easily into his arms. The position was tantalizing, revealing just how excited George was against his groin. Bringing them into his bedroom, he felt George’s nearly indiscernible movements as he searched for friction. They broke apart, feeling lightheaded. “You’re so fucking hot.”
George ran his fingers through the length of Dream’s hair, dragging his nails against his scalp. “Can I blow you?”
Dream’s body reacted before his brain had a chance to catch up, nodding in confirmation immediately.
George grinned at his reaction, sliding out of his arms and onto his knees. He barely took a moment to breathe before his long fingers were working the button of his jeans. His touch was exhilarating as they pushed the denim down, Dream kicking them off haphazardly.
The brunet cupped him through his boxers, Dream’s back crashing against the door, the surprise knocking the wind out of him. His touch was devious . He continued the slow movement, the teasingly light touches were nothing short of torturous.
He took mercy on the blond however, finally pushing away his boxers. Dream would imprint the sight of George’s wide eyes and spread lips in his mind forever. “You’re big.”
Dream pressed a thumb to his lower lip, swiping through the spit that had gathered there. “God, I’m lucky.”
George took his thumb into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks akin to reflex. He only proved his point.
When Dream removed his thumb, he placed his hand on his head, not pushing but giving a silent suggestion . He was getting a bit desperate.
The brunet didn’t seem to mind. He gave his cock a few light pumps before finally, finally guiding the tip into his mouth.
The groan that Dream let out when his dick was engulfed in warm heat was embarrassingly loud. Neither of them noticed, in fact George took his moaning as a sign he was doing well, speeding up and sinking further down his length.
The pleasure was overwhelming his senses, and if that wasn’t enough, the sight of George on his knees below him with his lips spread wide around his cock was almost enough to make him come.
George slowly moved on his dick, using a hand to stroke the excess of what he couldn’t get into his mouth. His tongue worked expertly, sliding over the veins before digging into the slit, forcing a deep moan from Dream’s mouth.
Dream was tired of the teasing though, growing more frustrated at his pace. His large hand carded through George’s thick curls, gently combing through them before pulling George off of his cock entirely. He whined, looking up at him with spit-slicked lips, puffier than they had been before.
“Can I fuck your throat?”
George tilted his head back further, eyelashes fluttering at the question. He nodded, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue in invitation.
He guided his length back toward George’s mouth, tapping the tip against his swollen lips, watching enrapt at the way his precum dribbled onto his skin. George licked his tongue on the underside of his cock, prompting him to eventually thrust his hips back into his mouth.
Dream held the back of his head in a tight grip, fully prepared to let go if George decided he wasn’t into it anymore. If he had been a little less horny, he would’ve been sensible enough to ask for his boundaries.
He shallowly began to thrust his dick into his mouth, his worry of hurting George somehow overpowering the lust and desperation to get his dick wet. However the man beneath him must’ve gotten tired of his slow pace, pinching Dream’s thigh and pulling off.
His voice was already growing hoarse. “You don’t have to be gentle, Dream. I can take it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”
George, blinking through his long lashes, smiled at him with red lips. Seeing him below him like this, so eager to suck his cock with his pretty skirt flared across bare legs, made him throb. What had he done to get this lucky?
“I want you to be mean.” He fluttered his lashes again. “Please, Dreamie? Be mean to me. Ruin me.”
Dream moaned, knocking his skull against the wooden door, needing a moment to recollect himself or he’d probably come too quickly at this rate.
“I’ll be mean to you, baby. Anything you want,” he murmured, the hand in George’s hair tightening, pulling at the roots. George’s reaction was instantaneous, whining while Dream guided him back to his erection.
Dream slapped his swollen cock against George’s cheeks, splashing precum on his unblemished skin. He traced his lips with the tip, smiling unkindly. “I’ll use you. You’d like that anyway, wouldn’t you?” George closed his eyes, lips parting. “You’d like to be used like the whore you are.”
Before George could speak again, he slid his dick between plush lips, sliding down his throat with a harsh thrust. He felt the smaller man gag around the intrusion, hands appearing at Dream’s hips, still not pulling away. The blond took that as a sign to continue.
He easily found a quick pace, not quite allowing George to adjust to it. It didn’t matter to the smaller man though, finding him leaning into the thrusts and prompting Dream to move even quicker. His mouth was so warm, throat so tight, he didn’t think he was going to last very long at this rate. He found it impossible that he could with his heavenly mouth around him, his fluttering lashes, the low whines echoing in his throat.
And when George moaned, the vibrations shot pleasure up his spine like electricity.
George shifted underneath him, a hand slipping beneath his skirt. He was a mess, saliva dripping down his chin, tears clinging to his lashes and sliding down his cheeks. He was so fucking attractive like this, Dream couldn’t believe it. His moans only heightened when he started palming himself, forcing Dream closer to his release.
He clutched at George’s hair, pulling him harder into his thrusts. He was pliant beneath him, allowing his throat to be used so fucking well all for Dream’s pleasure. George whined as he tightened his grip, probably bordering on painful, pulling on his hair.
“God, George,” he moaned. “‘Gonna come.”
He expected George to pull away, but he was full of surprises. His minimal movements quickened, hollowing his cheeks around his cock and sucking so roughly, Dream barely had a moment to prepare before his release was shooting down the man’s throat.
Dream’s lungs were failing him as his legs shook, his hand inadvertently pushing George’s nose against his groin.
George let him ride out his orgasm before tapping his thigh, pulling himself off of Dream’s cock with a cough.
God, he was ruined . Cum and spit drooled from the corner of his mouth, shining in the dim light, staining his skirt. His eyes were wide, rimmed with red and wetness. His hair mussed to perfection from Dream’s rough hands. He watched George wipe a hand across his mouth, only smearing what was left there.
Dream pulled the man to his feet, their chests pressing against one another, George practically sinking into him. He pressed a firm kiss to his mouth, gentler this time. He tasted himself on George’s tongue, the erotic nature of it making his head spin and his cock twitch back to life. George only moaned into his mouth, rutting his erection against Dream’s thigh in want.
“Bed,” George was muffled against Dream’s neck, kneading his teeth into the sensitive skin. Dream hissed when he bit particularly hard, no doubt leaving a mark to remember him by.
Dream shuffled him backward without breaking contact, pushing him back onto the mattress. He laughed as he bounced, leaning back on his elbows as he watched Dream slip off his last article of clothing.
“I’m feeling a little overdressed,” George giggled.
“I think we can do something about that.”
He crawled atop George’s thighs, helping the smaller man pull his shirt over his head. George went to shuffle out of his skirt but Dream stopped him.
“Leave it on. I want to fuck you in it.”
George’s head drooped to his shoulder, whining quietly. “Please, Dream.”
“Please, what, baby?”
He ran his hands over George’s exposed thighs, eying the bulge that was prominent underneath the pink fabric. His fingers threatened to brush over it, driving George crazy. He thrusted his hips, searching for something, but Dream wanted an answer.
“Come on, Georgie. Use your words, what do you want?”
George mustered up a lack-luster glare. His voice was raspy from the brutal treatment a few minutes prior. His was insanely arousing knowing that Dream had done it. “Just fuck me already, you fucking prick.”
Dream would’ve forced him to beg if he himself wasn’t just as desperate.
He manhandled him without warning, flipping him onto his stomach. George grinded against the mattress with a loud moan, eager for some sort of stimulation against his leaking cock. Dream gripped his hips tightly, harsh enough to leave bruises on his pale skin, forcing his ass into the air so he had a perfect view.
“So pretty like this,” Dream murmured, kneading the skin through the fabric of his skirt before flipping it up so he could see what was hidden underneath.
If he wasn’t completely hard again before, he was when he saw the black lace settled between his ass cheeks. He slid a finger underneath the lace, tracing along the curve of his hips. His plump ass was distracting, all he wanted to do was touch. He wanted to worship him, but quickly decided that he’d save that for next time.
George wiggled his hips, trying to get Dream’s attention. “Come on, Dreamie.”
Dream squeezed the flesh of his ass abruptly, eliciting a squeak of surprise. “Whiny little bitch.”
He moved away from the man and grabbed a bottle of lube from his bedside table, quickly lathering up his fingers and warming the gel. George had taken his absence to press a hand against the front of his panties, palming himself. That just wouldn’t do.
A sharp slap echoed in the room, accompanied by a surprised cry. Dream rubbed his reddened skin, soothing the sting in his ass. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”
“Please, Dream,” he was cut off by his own whimper when Dream’s hand came down on his ass again.
“Needy fucking slut. Can’t even answer my question,” Dream pressed a finger to the man’s entrance. He was taken back when his finger slid in with surprisingly little resistance. George hid his noises, face pressed into Dream’s white sheets to silence himself. Dream’s laugh was humorless, borderline mean. “Did you fucking finger yourself before the party?”
George sobbed when Dream’s hand imprinted on his flesh again, tears staining the mattress. Everything was just so much. “I, yes .”
“Did you imagine your fingers were mine? Wishing I was opening you up instead?”
He weeped louder as he pushed his hips toward Dream’s prodding finger. “Yes, yes I did. Please just fuck me, please, Dream. Please.”
Dream couldn’t refuse. He worked his finger into his hole, quickly adding a second when George started to beg profusely for it. He scissored them, working to make the man as comfortable as possible, but George just wanted more.
“Just fuck me already.”
“You sure, baby?”
“I told you, I don’t want you to be gentle,” he wiggled his red ass again, whining when Dream pulled out his fingers, both at the loss and the anticipation of what was to come. “I want your cock. I want it so bad.”
Dream groaned, unable to refuse, tired of waiting. He took the lube and lathered his dick, before promptly pressing the head against his entrance.
George’s hole swallowed him greedily, accepting everything Dream offered him and more. He squeezed the globes of flesh surrounding his cock, groaning at the warmth that encased him, squeezing his length so fucking well.
George’s moans were already becoming incoherent, a mixture of muffled begging and cries.
“You feel so good, baby,” Dream praised through a groan of his own.
When he finally bottomed out, George’s hole squeezing so tightly around him, he felt like he had ascended and reached heaven. Everything about the moment felt surreal. If he died now, nothing else would matter.
“Hurt me, hurt me. Please, Dream,” George sobbed, shifting his hips, wanting more.
Dream snapped his hips at a cruel pace, his thrusts increasing in speed as pleasure lit up his senses. George reacted immediately. His cries were loud, tears leaking from his eyes. Even with his mouth pressed into the mattress, the noises weren’t close to being muffled. And Dream didn’t want them to be anyway. He savored them, wanted to commit the moment to memory to cherish forever.
“Taking my dick so well, Georgie,” he grunted, pulling George’s hip into his thrusts. “Made for it, in your pretty, pink skirt.”
He was already getting close. And with his dick prodding against George’s prostate with every thrust, he knew that the man was approaching his own orgasm quickly. With each brush against his sweet spot, George shuttered, back arching beneath Dream’s fingertips and his thighs shaking with effort.
Dream increased the pace of his thrusts, nearing brutal. He reached down and pulled George’s cock from the lacy confines, stroking him with fervor. His other hand went up to his dark curls, yanking hard enough to pull a sharp cry from parted lips.
He felt George clench hard around his length before spilling into his hand, moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors. It was music to Dream’s ears.
It wasn’t long before Dream was following, falling over the edge of his climax and spilling into George with a deep groan of his own. He fucked George through his orgasm, keeping his shuttering hips still as he reached some point of overstimulation.
He pulled out of George with a grunt, breathing heavily as he watched his cum leak from George’s hole. He was enamored by it, enough to use a finger to press it back inside of him, ignoring George’s quiet whine as he clenched around nothing.
Dream pulled himself from his trance and helped him settled into bed. He forced himself away from the man, helping him clean up before pulling one of Dream’s t-shirt’s over his head. He was flooded with fabric, but George didn’t seem to mind, giggling groggily as he slumped back into one of the pillows.
Dream slid into the bed beside him, a bit awkward and unsure of whether or not George wanted him beside him. His nerves immediately eased when George grabbed his bicep, pulling him closer with a drowsy smile.
“Can I sleep here?” George mumbled, as if he wasn’t already settled into his bed on the verge of unconsciousness.
Also considering how he was already pressed against Dream’s chest, leg thrown over his hip in a possessive way that made Dream’s heart swell, he obviously didn’t need to ask. “Of course, George.”
George only pressed his face into his chest further before Dream felt his breathing begin to even out.
He was almost asleep when he saw his phone vibrating on his nightstand. He had retrieved it from his discarded jacket when he grabbed supplies to help George clean up.
Dream stifled his amusement when he saw the message from Sapnap.
Is it safe to come home yet?