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

uneasy alliance

George trails his hands up to Dream’s chest, tapping his fingers rhythmically.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Dream pulls away to look George in the eye. “You’re too precious to kill, I need you alive. I’d do anything to keep you alive, you hear me?”

It shouldn’t be romantic. George knows that Dream really does mean anything— he’d kill for him, start wars for him, end countries for him. It’s happened before. In a way, every atrocity Dream has committed ties back to George and some selfish need to protect him.

It shouldn’t be romantic, but George blushes and turns his head away like it is. Dream turns him back with a finger on his jaw, and his eyes bore into George’s when he meets them.

“You hear me?” Dream repeats.

“Yes.”

Dream finally, finally, presses his lips against George’s. Through the metallic taste there’s an aching familiarity that George hasn’t felt in months. With his eyes closed, he can almost pretend they’re back at the community house, hiding from mobs in the early morning instead of hiding from the prison warden in the dead of night.

He’s brought back to reality when Dream applies pressure on either side of his neck. George gasps into Dream’s mouth, curls his fingers into the material of his jumpsuit. Dream doesn’t press hard enough to restrict George’s breathing, just enough to make him a little lightheaded.

Dream kisses him desperately, with all the pent up frustration of being locked up for months. George is just as desperate, subconsciously wrapping his legs around Dream’s hips, needing him closer.

Dream pulls away eventually, releasing George’s throat and breathing heavily. George leans forward, plants breathless kisses on Dream’s neck and collarbones. The hand on George’s throat shifts to the back of his head, deft fingers carding through dark hair. It’s reminiscent of how Dream used to comfort him when he had the occasional nightmare.

“Dream,” George whispers, “Dream, I’m hard.”

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly he got worked up, but it’s been months since he’s been touched like this. He didn’t hook up with anyone while Dream was gone, although he knows he could have. It would have felt wrong, like a betrayal to Dream, to himself.

“It’s okay, love, I am too.”

Dream rolls his hips against George’s, pulling desperate gasps out of him before recapturing his mouth, swallowing down the noises.

“Please, Dream,” George begs against Dream’s lips. He begs like he begged Sapnap to tell him it wasn’t true, that Dream hadn’t really been locked up. He begs like he begged Sam to find another way. He begs like he once begged Dream to stay out of conflict, because you’re scaring me, Dream, I don’t wanna lose you.

“Please what, darling boy?” Dream murmurs, teasing. He’s always been one to tease, especially when it comes to George.

George huffs, turning his head away in embarrassment. He knows exactly what Dream wants him to say, but it’s still difficult.

Dream kisses down the column of his neck, and George can feel his grin.

“Tell me, George, I want to hear it.”

“Please fuck me, Dream.”

“That’s it.”

Dream undresses George tenderly, callused hands gentle like the moonlight peeking through the windows, gentle like the wool Dream used to collect to craft their blankets. George’s clothes fall to the floor and it feels like he has shed his skin, he feels like Dream’s eyes are boring into his body.