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

curiosity (satisfaction)

George wakes up more than a little ashamed. He tries not to think about the ground shaking orgasm he had the night before as he eventually peels himself from the safety of his bedsheets and makes his way down to the kitchen. He prays that Dream is still asleep, or up and already in his office. Maybe then George would never have to face him.

Dream, of course, is sitting at the kitchen island eating cereal when George arrives. Grey sweats and blond, sleep tousled hair greet him— a cruel reminder that his most depraved wet dream is also the most familiar.

“Morning George.” Dream smiles, voice low and rough from sleep. George’s knees feel weak.

“Good morning,” George manages. He can’t bear to make eye contact, instead busying himself with getting juice from the fridge. It’s quiet for a few moments as George gets himself some yogurt, purposely taking as long as possible in the hopes that Dream will finish his breakfast and leave. He seems perfectly content where he is though, lazily scrolling on his phone as George reluctantly sits beside him.

“Sleep okay?” Dream asks, not yet looking up from his phone.

“Yeah, thanks,” George responds. He hopes he doesn’t sound as uncomfortable as he feels. “Uh, how about you?”

“Eh.” Dream shrugs. “Got home kinda late so not great.”

George feels his cheeks redden. He wills himself not to imagine Dream getting home late at night after hooking up with a stranger, stumbling into bed to ride out the high.

“Right.” And then, because he can’t stop himself, “How was it? Um, last night.”

“Oh,” Dream turns to face George then, seemingly surprised that he asked, “it was good, thanks.”

The conversation should end there, really. George should change the subject and ask about Dream’s plans to stream, or edit, or anything else. But George is nothing if not curious.

“What do you, like, do there?”

Dream gives him a slightly amused look. “It’s not a sex club if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Huh.

George feels a little silly, suddenly. Dream would never risk going to a sex club, even if he was careful about getting recognized.

“Then what,” George starts, “what do you— I mean why do you—“

“Uh,” Dream seems slightly nervous too, “it’s mostly a social thing for me. Like hanging out with friends from the community.”

George must look a little confused, because Dream continues, “I mean, I’ll watch other people’s scenes and stuff, but it’s not about getting off.”

“Then… why?”

Dream puts his spoon down, turning to face George fully. “George, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable— talking about all this stuff.”

“No!” George starts, “I mean, you’re not— I mean, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable either. I guess I’m just curious about what you’re into.”

Dream quirks an eyebrow. “You want to know… what I’m into?”

George’s face warms, eyes skirting down and away. “Idiot. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“So you don’t wanna know?”

Does he? George can’t think past Dream’s teasing voice, his hand resting on his own thigh. How did this conversation even start? He opens his mouth to try to summon some kind of coherent response, but Dream interjects,