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

talk shit, get hit

“What?” Dream walks back to him, his skin fiery with want, “what do you want, baby?”

“I want you to,” his eyes cast down at his hands in his lap.

Once again, George’s face is pulled up, “look at me when you’re begging.”

“I want you to slap me, please, Dream. I need you, I need–” George is cut off when Dream’s hand connects with the left side of his face. It’s nowhere near as hard as Sapnap’s slap, but it doesn’t need to be in this context. All George can focus on is Dream’s eyes and his hands that are now tugging at the hair on the back of his head.

“Again.”

He slaps George again, and George reaches for Dream’s belt, unbuckling it while holding eye contact with the man above him. Dream undoes the button and zipper on his jeans, backing up a step as he guides George to kneel on the floor in front of him. His knees reach the floor and his hands make for Dream’s waistband.

“Hands behind you, don’t move them.” George’s hands fly behind his back, he grips the sleeves of the big sweatshirt he’s wearing, he figures if he keeps his hands locked in the sleeves, they won’t move.

Dream pushes his jeans and boxers down a bit to let his cock out above the waistband of the plaid fabric. George is staring up at Dream, waiting for instructions.

“So pretty when you look like this, waiting for me to tell you what to do. You’re going to suck me off until I tell you to stop, understand?”

George’s face is flushed and he can hear his blood pumping in his ears. Dream pulls George's head closer, and he laps his tongue at the tip, but is met with a harsher slap from a hand above him. “You’ll make this a hell of a lot worse for yourself if you decide to be a tease.”

George licks a stripe before taking as much of Dream as he can in his warm mouth. He sucks and starts to bob his head. This would be much easier if he was allowed to use his hands, but he never expects Dream to make things easy for him. Every third bob of his head, Dream’s hand collides with one side of his face, never a repeating pattern as he goes through the motions. Dream moans, reaches for the back of George’s head, and begins to push him closer to the base of his cock as he thrusts into his mouth.

George is suddenly aware only of the feeling of Dream’s large hand on the back of his head and the movement of his tongue as he drives Dream right to the edge of his orgasm. Dream’s thrusting slows as he spills into George’s mouth, slapping him twice more. George pulls off Dream and swallows before opening his eyes to look back up at Dream.

“God, you look so needy, baby. Such a pretty boy on your knees for me. Get on the bed.”

George lifts on shaky legs and climbs up on the bed, laying on his back watching Dream crawl up over top of him. His head is pushed into the pillow as Dream crashes into his lips with his own. His arms fly behind Dream’s neck, wanting to keep kissing him for as long as he could. Dream’s hands find their way under the bottom of George’s, well his, sweatshirt to rip his boxers down to his knees. He lifts George’s hips and then slams his hands down on George’s hips, pushing him back down from where he was craning his neck to keep his lips attached to Dream’s.

“So, so pretty,” he pulls the hoodie up to George’s ribs and starts kissing his hip bones, all the while George is writhing further up on the bed.

“Please, please, Dream. Please,” George says rapidly, needing some sort of release in order to think straight. His body is tense with need, and his eyes roll to the back of his head when Dream slams into him. George’s hands reach out, gripping the sheets on the bed that he’s sure might be broken by the morning. Dream’s bigger hands catch George’s wrists and he moves them to hold in one hand above his head. He thrusts harder into George, “you are mine,” he huffs out.

“I’m yours, I’m, please, Dream. Harder.”

“Mine to fuck like this, mine to slap into shutting up, fucking mine.”

Dream thrusts hard four more times before George’s back arches off the bed and he lets out a moan. He keeps going as George is in a state of ecstasy, fucking him through his high until he reaches his own. He slows down his pace and starts to kiss every square inch of his neck. George can’t stop the cries he’s letting out, and Dream finally pulls out of him. They collide at the top of the bed, matching their breathing as they both come down from their highs.

“Say you’re mine. Say it.”

“I’m yours, only yours.”

Dream lets go of George’s wrists but they stay above his head as they continue making out. Dream’s hands find their way, once again, to George’s hair. He pulls back a bit, “when you beg for me, I swear, I lose it every time. You’re so pretty when you’re listening to me, with those eyes, god, it’s a shame it took me so long to realize what gets you to listen.”

The two of them fell asleep in the middle of the bed, Dream’s arms keeping George against him. The last thing Dream thought about before falling unconscious was if George’s face would still be red hot by morning.
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1611 words