Kréme / Driller Oneshots

Three Nights Only

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Night three started with a meaningless conversation, pointless comments flicked back and forth in a fruitless attempt for the two of them to compete for the victory of who was the most unbothered about what they both knew would result of the evening to come.

The first empty conversation was about how Killer looked surprisingly stable on his legs, a mocking jab at how the guardian had last seen the skeleton when he'd been inside his home. That had been countered by some snide remarks that he hadn't actually been too impacted and that Dream strokes his own ego too much.

Three more sneering conversations aimed at insulting each other later they'd moved to the kitchen, Dream offering Killer a glass of champagne which they both washed down with a somewhat sense of urgency. Of course the villainous skeleton wouldn't scrape up the confidence to ask Dream when the night would start, and the golden skeleton didn't want to motion for Killer to go upstairs for the thought of seeming overly eager. If either one of them was going to break from impatience, it would be Killer.

Watching him from the corner of his eye the tear-stained skeleton leant against the counter, downing his drink in one gulp. It wasn't because he was hoping to get the night started faster, but instead because that's how he liked to do it - or as Dream said it 'he had no class'.

What are you waiting for? The question bounced around his mind like a ping pong ball, knocking into the curves of his skull and rattling about heavily. Are you expecting us to start baking?

"So, what are we cooking?" Tired of the silence, Killer decided to break it, as he liked to do with most things he didn't enjoy.

"Cooking?" Dream arched a brow in confusion, head tipping to the side. "Whatever gave you the impression that we'd be cooking?"

Annoyed, he sighed as if he were about to explain a simple concept to a stupid child (a dangerous thing to do around Dream). "Well, you brought me into the kitchen instead of whisking me to the bedroom, we're drinking champagne, the oven isn't on and already baking, so my logical conclusion is that we're cooking."

Chuckling lowly Dream shook his head, the laugh slightly rumbling. "Oh Killer, we're not cooking anything tonight. In fact, you're not even going to eat tonight."

"Implying that you are going to eat?" He glanced at the oven clock before his gaze swept back to Dream. In that small moment the skeleton had placed down his glass, stepped round the kitchen island and took three strides towards the smaller who grinned in response. "Ordered a deliveroo McDonalds for one, Hm? Missed the opportunity for a family-or-couple-meal."

"McDonalds isn't on the menu."

"Then then what is?" His snicker was cut short by a sharp inhale of breath as Dream's fingers gripped at his jaw, effectively shutting him up.

"You."

It took a moment for the word to sink in, Killer's brows furrowing in confusion before he paused, heat creeping up his cheeks. To try counter his apparent embarrassment, he forced a laugh. "Couldn't hold back your primal urges for any longer, huh?"

"For every stupid sentence you say I'll bite you." He muttered, pressing him back into the counter until his spine dug uncomfortably into the granite.

"Bite me?" He almost sounded alarmed. "Are you some sort of savage dog-?"

"That's one."

Before the skeleton could voice another question or mockery towards the other he felt the scrape of teeth at his neck followed by the hot presence of something wet massaging the bruised bone.