Stay, Forever

32

*TW: smut

Somehow, between messy kisses and wandering hands, Dream manages to get George back home and up to their bedroom. With George's legs wrapped around his waist, and warm lips trailing up the side of his neck, Dream manages to close the door with his knee, twisting the lock until he hears the faint click.

He brings George over to their bed, and lays him down while being careful of the bandage that's still wrapped around his thigh. George seems to notice, and he lays back against the pillows with a soft laugh, "you're being so careful. I'm not fragile, you know."

"Trust me," Dream murmurs back, fingers gliding up the outside of George's thighs, "I know you're not."

George's pretty laughter fills the spaces around them, and Dream smiles because he thinks it might just be his favorite sound ever. He would do anything to hear it over and over again for the rest of his life.

With both palms pressing into the mattress to cage George in, Dream leans in to kiss George's cheek and then the corner of his mouth. He avoids George's lips for now, and quietly murmurs, "I just don't want to hurt you, George."

He thinks the words carry more weight than they should in this moment, and maybe George thinks so, too, because his eyebrows furrow together for a moment as he considers them. But then fingertips gently touch Dream's jaw, and George is smiling sweetly as he softly answers, "you won't. I trust you."

Dream's heart races, and there's a messy tangle of emotions in his chest that he can't seem to make sense of. He's been promising George the world since they were just ten years old, before he was even old enough to know what any of it meant. And George has always looked at him just like this, with nothing but pure love and trust, and Dream wonders if he really deserves any of it.

He nods when words fail him, and the hand at his jaw pulls him in closer until their lips are meeting again.

This time, George kisses him like it's the last chance he'll get to. There's meaning behind it, like he's trying to communicate all the things he doesn't know how to put into words. And Dream thinks he's doing the same, because if he can't tell George how he feels, the least he could do is show him.

With gentle movements, Dream manages to get George undressed beneath him. He pulls his own shirt up and over his head, and he watches as honey brown eyes trail down his chest and towards his stomach. George's fingertips follow the same path, and Dream's skin warms under the familiar touch.

When fingers dip under the waistband of his pants, Dream catches George by the wrist. George makes a noise of complaint, tries to pull his hand away, and groans when he fails.

"Relax," Dream urges in a soft voice, "all you have to do is lay there, look pretty, and let me take care of you."

Dream smiles when he sees the color rush to George's face. He loves having any effect at all on George, and he gives him a satisfied smile when George rolls his eyes but nods in quiet agreement.

Dream slides down the bed, settles himself between George's legs, and focuses his full attention on trailing light kisses up the insides of George's thighs. George squirms impatiently against the mattress, and Dream's hand settles at George's hip. He squeezes lightly, and his voice is a bit lower as he mutters, "I said relax, George."

With a breathy sound, George tries to listen. But his hand still tangles in Dream's hair, and he tugs roughly when teeth scrape gently against the inside of his thigh.

"Please," George pleads quietly, tugging again, "please, Dream. I need you."

The words send a warm wave of desire crashing through Dream's body. But he has his mind set on taking his time tonight, and he's not planning on letting George rush him. He laughs softly under his breath, leaving a light kiss on the inside of George's thigh. And when George tugs at his hair again, Dream sucks down to leave a faint bloom of purple on George's skin.