Dont read this, this is just for stories i want read

hardened clay (with these hands)

"No, not like that." There was the flurry of bare feet on the carpet, and then the sensation of fingers grasping his wrists, pulling his hands behind him... and then one hand, larger than his own, wrapping to hold them both firmly in place at the small of his back. "Like this." With only one hand preoccupied with being a living binding, Dream was free to stroke along the length of George's spine, the soft leather of his glove a tickle of sensation that made him squirm, made a small sound catch in the back of his throat, made his hips buck of their own volition against the bed frame.

Above him, Dream's laugh was scorching, like molten gold running through the synapses of his brain.

He wanted more.

There was another shift of movement, a snap of a cap, something cold running along the line of his back. It only took George a moment to realize that it was lubrication, and only a second longer to let out a low whine when Dream's fingers followed the line of it to the curve of his ass.

There was a brief moment of teasing, but in the few weeks that they'd been together, George had more than gotten past the need for a gentle workup. The long finger that slid inside of him hooked upward, shifted and curled perfectly, knew exactly where to touch to make George's entire body set on fire until a low whine poured from his throat.

"Dream, come on." He gasped the words out without thinking, his head thick and his mind racing from the sensation of another finger joining the first. Dream worked him like an instrument, and there was nothing that he could do for him other than to sing. He writhed and whimpered, bucked his body up until he wondered if the man above him meant to bring him to orgasm with two fingers alone, but as soon as his body tensed, Dream pulled back.

The hand still pinned his slender wrists to his back, so George couldn't twist around to see him... and left without the stroking motions of Dream's hand, he felt so cold suddenly. The heat of the room was reverberating around them, making sweat-slick down his skin, but it didn't matter.

It was cold without that touch.

"Dream?" And then, when there wasn't an answer, "Clay?" That made the hands at his wrist twitch, and there was a sharp slap to his ass that made George squeal in shock and then writhe in excitement from the stinging sensation it left in its wake.

"Georgie," Dream's voice was still that liquid heat, teasing at giving George back warmth. "What do you want?" His body leaned in with his words until the slick length of his cock pressing at a worked hole told the brunette what Dream's missing hand had been up to.

"You know what," George's voice barely held defiance, but he tried for it. It made Dream lean closer, made the hand on his wrists squeeze slightly.

"What do you want?"

Tight fingers. Hot breath. His body pressing so close but unyielding.

"Please, Dream, I want all of you--" George's voice was so small. So needy and full of want, and he wasn't sure if he imagined it or if a tremoring pulse actually ran through Dream's body above him in reaction to it.

Whatever it was, Dream seemed more than happy to give him what he was asking for. His hips pressed forward -- it was hot, tight pressure that felt like it should have burned… but there was a tender and delicate care that came with the thrust; they’d been together, but it was never easy to start off.

Though the way that his head was spinning made George groan against the mattress, made him not care, because the only thing that he could think of was how amazing it would be to have all of that rough, dominating attention focused inside of him.

He was drowning in how much his entire body wanted the man above him -- it was hard to breathe around it, hard to think around it, and he only felt something akin to sanity slip back into his mind once Dream had slid completely inside of him, bottoming out and making him feel full and complete.