"We need to talk."
Dream is well aware that he sounds like a pissed-off boyfriend, but at this moment, that is honestly the last thing on his mind. The events of the party have gone unspoken between them and they've barely spoken to each other in the last two days and he is more than a little frustrated. They crossed a line and they both know it. So, he and George are finally home at the same time and they need to settle this.
"Talk about what?" George asks nonchalantly, dropping his bag onto the floor and hopping onto his bed casually. He scrolls through his phone like it's nothing and Dream thinks he wants to wring his throat.
"What do you mean talk about what? The party? Or are you experiencing amnesia?" Dream's voice is overly exasperated as he dances around the subject, plopping down into his desk chair and crossing his arms. His idiotic brain flashes back to the last time he was sat here with George in his lap. "We shouldn't have done that. This... this was just about kissing."
George shrugs, barely even glancing at him, "There was kissing involved."
The blond sighs at this, running an absentminded hand through his hair, tugging at the strands softly. His voice is quieter next time he speaks, his real fear poking through the dialogue, "I took advantage of you."
It really is his biggest fear going into this. After all, he is the one with an upper hand here being the only one out of the two with any actual experience not to mention George isn't even gay. The last thing he wants is to accidentally go too far and have George resent him for it. No matter what, they're supposed to be in this together and he feels like he's lost that.
"Is that seriously what you think? Why? Because I'm straight? It's not like we were drinking and we're two consenting adults. Why is this bothering you?" He scoffs, finally looking at Dream.
He leans back in the chair, his arms re-crossing as he shrugs half-heartedly. When he doesn't respond at first, George stands up. For a moment he thinks that history is going to repeat itself and that the brunet is going to slot himself onto Dream's lap, but instead, he puts a hand on the edge of the desk behind him. He uses his other hand to lift up the blond's chin so their eyes meet, "Dream, we never said it had to stop with kissing. I'm not complaining if you aren't."
With George leaning over him like this, Dream is but a man. He leans forward and presses his lips fiercely against George's, not bothering to explain it away with some offhand comment. The lesson is implied, Dream just wants to feel George's skin against him as soon as possible. George kisses him back eagerly, his hand leaving the desk as they instead move to cup Dream's face. He lets himself pull George onto his lap, the man gasping softly and opening up enough for Dream to slip his tongue past his lips. His skin is alight where George touches him, burning with every brush of skin-to-skin contact. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he is overly aware of the downright dangerous territory to tread, but there isn't a care in his mind at the moment. His senses are overwhelmed with the feeling of George on top of him, bending to his beck and call. It's intoxicating.
"We're really," he attempts to get out in between the kisses from George, " bad at the talking part of this conversation."
George pulls back, his hands staying on Dream's shoulders as a coy smile plays at his face, "Is there more you wanted to say or can we fast forward to the part where I get you off?"
Dream has the distant thought that he's created a monster. Just a week ago, this man hadn't even kissed anyone, and look at them now: Sitting on each others' laps, hard in their jeans. "George, you know... you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right? I mean, if you really wanna continue to go in that direction, we can, I'm not complaining, but don't feel like you have to be someone you're not just because you think it'll make me happy. All of this is for you."
The brunet almost seems to be taken aback by how genuine the words from Dream's lips are, sitting back and seeming to contemplate them for a minute. He tugs his lip in between his teeth and for just a moment, Dream thinks that'll be the end of it. Maybe George will realize he's pushing himself and they will simply go back to their sides of the room and pretend this never happened.
Instead, George leans in and whispers into the blond's ear, "It's just fun, right, Dream? Besides, I owe you."
"You don't owe me anything," Dream assures, trying to ignore the way the brunet's sultry tone is sending his blood south. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."
"If you're gonna say no, then say no," George sits back, seeming almost frustrated if not for the teasing smile on his face, "Don't pin this on me."
Dream contemplates the words for a moment, sending an exasperated look in George's direction who really does not seem to care. This man is going to kill him. His gaze darts down to his lips and back before he speaks carefully, "I'm not saying no."
The other smiles gently at this, pulling himself off of Dream's lap. A hand locks around the blond's wrist pulling him towards their dorm room beds that are definitely not made to fit two people — especially not when one of which is over six feet tall. He lets himself be pushed back onto the bed, the two of them laughing at how they're already practically falling off. Still, George climbs on top of him, straddling him with more confidence than Dream would expect.
"Take this," George tugs at the hem of Dream's t-shirt, "off, I wanna see if the rumors are true."
"Rumors?" Dream raises an eyebrow with a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows as George fiddles with the fabric, "Do tell."
"Hm, just the rumors that are the reason everyone wants to get into your pants," George shrugs, forgoing permission and pulling the fabric over Dream's head. He gasps softly as he takes in the sight, something that Dream is going to remember for the sake of his ego. His fingertips linger over the small patches of black ink sprawled sparingly across his chest and shoulders. He knows George has seen him shirtless before, but he wonders how much the man had actually let himself look at. Considering the awed expression on his face, he's guessing this is the first time he's let himself take it in. His fingers trace over the skin delicately, seemingly seeing Dream in a new light.
The blond scoffs, "Oh, come on, nothing you haven't seen before."
"Not like this," George shrugs, fingers tracing the linework of one of his tattoos. He doesn't have a lot on his chest, the designs following a sparse patchwork pattern down his arms. He knows for a fact that George has seen those and paid attention to them. He thinks he likes being looked at the way he is right now; like George is taking the time to drink it in. An afterthought to George's aforementioned sexuality eats away at him, but he pushes it back, letting himself enjoy this.
The brunet leans down to press his lips against his, softer than before. It isn't long before things heat to a boiling point, their kisses burning with desperation neither of them are willing to admit. George palms him through his jeans and the contact is so much he finds himself having to bite back a moan. It isn't long before he's fiddling with the button, both of them aching for skin against skin. Dream takes a pause, tugging at the hem of George's shirt, raising an eyebrow as if to ask permission. George nods and he takes that as the go-ahead to toss the shirt to the floor. He's not as built as Dream, granted he isn't the one that works out six days a week, but there is absolutely nothing to complain about as he lets his hands trace the line of George's waist and a thumb trails down the faint 'V' disappearing below his jeans. He's a goner. As if he wasn't hard enough already, he's practically leaking by the time George actually pulls down his pants.
He teases for a moment, his slender fingers lifting the hem of Dream's underwear without ever dipping far enough. George watches his expression with a dark look in his eyes, to which Dream spits out a yearning, "Stop teasing."
"Hm, rude, I could just be nervous," George mocks, his voice light enough to know that it's just the brunet torturing him. "You didn't teach me this one."
"Well, if you'd rather blow me, be my guest," he shoots back with a gentle chuckle, not missing the way the other rolls his eyes. A devilish grin plays on the blond's lips; George kisses it away.
During their kiss, George's hand finally wraps around him, the warmth of the contact enough to make Dream gasp. He uses this opportunity to slip his tongue between Dream's lips, cruel revenge in response to the way Dream always does the same to him. He understands the appeal now, letting George take the lead as he whines into the other's kiss. It's been so long since anyone has touched him like this and with the way George is working him with practiced ease, he already knows this is going to last far shorter than he would like. It seems there is one thing that Dream never has to teach him because he is absolutely already an expert the way the brunet's slender fingers wrap around his cock with a fluidity and ease that only comes from experience. His mind ponders the image of George doing this to himself, remembering all the noises that had fallen from his lips the other night. The image playing behind his eyelids at the moment was absolutely sinful, although not much worse than the one playing out in front of him.
George's thumb slips across the leaking tip of Dream's head and he downright moans. Their lips disconnect as George uses his free hand to push the other down against the bed, biting and sucking his way down Dream's neck and chest. He aches for George to leave marks visible enough for people to notice, but he knows that absolutely goes against their rule of not telling anyone under any circumstance. However, his mind is clouded with lust and that feels like a good enough excuse.
"It's nice to see you like this," George mutters against Dream's skin, the flicks of his wrist quickening to a dangerous pace.
"Whining for me."
"Who are you?" Dream chokes out with a dazed laugh, "Where's the guy who was all nervous about his first kiss?"
"Hm, you're to blame for this one, really," George teases, his motions ripping a moan from Dream's lips to seemingly punctuate his sentence. He leans in close for his next words, nipping at the other's earlobe teasingly, "I think you like me like this, though. Don't you, Dream?"
"Fuck," he moans out as he feels himself being dragged to the edge. The conversation fiddles out, replaced with whines and bated breaths. He's close and he knows it, but at the same time, he never wants this to end.
George is a demon with his tongue as he peppers marks across Dream's chest, ones he knows are going to show tomorrow, but he doesn't think either of them really gives a shit at the moment. All he cares about right now is the hand pumping his cock at an absolutely brutal pace. He wonders if George can feel how close he is, speeding up as he coaxes moans and mewls from Dream's lips. Before he knows it, he's spilling white over George's fist with a moan loud enough that he pities their neighbors. The brunet continues to pump his cock through his orgasm, strips of white sticking to both of their chests.
As he comes down, he watches George get up from the bed, grabbing one of their towels and beginning to clean them up. His eyes drift down to the untouched erection in George's jeans and he goes to reach for him, but the brunet just pushes him down. "I've got class in a few, I'll just think sad thoughts or something, don't worry about it. Besides, this was me paying you back."
He lets out a laugh at that, "You know, no one said this had to be so transactional. I can be quick."
"You're an idiot," George laughs, throwing the towel in his dirty and picking up his shirt off the floor. He grabs Dream's as well, throwing it on top of his chest as the blond pulls his pants and underwear back up, not bothering with his shirt just yet. Their eyes meet across the small room for a moment, Dream's hand reaching out and tugging George back over to him by the wrist. He sits up so he can reach his lips, giving him a kiss that feels like a promise for more where that came from. When they pull away, George whispers in his ear, "I like making you whine like that."
"Hm, bold words from a straight man," Dream lets the words out before he can bite them back. He regrets them immediately, but George just lets out a laugh.
"I'm straight, not a fucking monk, I can admit when something is hot." Dream neglects to mention there is no way a straight man would get hard just from getting someone off, but he forces himself to hold back. It's not his place and he knows it. That is George's to figure out and George's alone.
Instead, he just scoffs, pulling his shirt over his head and saying, "Oh, sure. Get to class you fucking horndog. I'll get you back later."
"Weren't you the one who said this wasn't transactional?" the other asks with a cocked eyebrow as he pulls his backpack onto one shoulder.
"Fine, so let me fuck you instead. Then we both get off." It's too bold and he knows that, the look on George's face tells him that enough. "Kidding, I'm only kidding."
"Shame," George shrugs as he opens up the door, throwing out one last sentence to absolutely fuck with his mentality. "I would have taken you up on your offer."