Work Text:
“George, what are you-”
Soft, nervous lips cut off Dream’s statement before he could finish. For a moment, Dream was frozen. George’s hands, wrapped tightly around Dream’s, were shaking so badly that Dream wondered for a moment if it was intentional. But it wasn’t that chilly in their kitchen. And George’s lips were SO warm.
Euphoria exploded in the blond’s chest. The reality of the situation finally caught up to him and Dream found himself tugging his hands out of George’s grip.
He wanted to feel George under his palms. Skin, clothes, hair, everything .
The fading of the daylight did little to help change his mind.
But as George felt the pulling, he also pulled away. Dream could’ve cried.
No, that’s not what I meant..
His voice failed him. George stared up at him, face red, worrying his lip between his teeth.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “It just felt right.”
“George…”
Come back…
The brunet took a step back. He shook his head in such a way that caused his hair to droop further over his face, trying to hide. He was embarrassed. Thought he’d done something wrong, or pushed it too far.
“I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry,” George said, almost inaudibly. He turned to leave.
No no no-
“Wait,” Dream pleaded. George stopped. Something in Dream’s voice felt like it was trying to pull him back.
Maybe it was curiosity.
Maybe it was desperation.
Maybe it was desire.
Whatever it was, it made George turn around. Turn around to Dream reaching for him, pulling him back, pulling him close. George felt his heart nearly stop in his chest. Dream’s fingers tangled carefully between his own and he slowly drew the Brit’s pale hand up to his lips.
Butterflies invaded George’s body as he watched Dream press slow, soft kisses against each knuckle. It was the sweetest thing George had ever witnessed. Gentle, reverent and charged with meaning that could alter the course of their whole friendship.
Dream paused on the last one, speaking quietly against Geroge’s skin.
“If you want to go, you can.”
The hand pressed against George’s back let up a bit. Dream leaned back. He loosened his grip on his best friend’s hand, letting it just sit in his palm. It would be so easy for George to leave.
He could walk out. He knew Dream would hold fast to that promise; he would never even think of pushing George further than he could go.
George considered it for the entirety of two seconds.
Dream was steady against him. His gaze was fixated on George’s wrist, and the bracelet around it - one that Dream himself had gifted George for his birthday. And in the fading evening light coming through the windows, Dream was practically glowing.
George only hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around Dream’s neck. The surprise and stupid hope behind the blond’s eyes was adorable, almost puppy-like. God, he was perfect.
George kissed him like the world was ending.
Dream practically melted into his touch, gathering George into his arms so he was the only thing Dream could feel.
George could’ve laughed at how easily Dream had given in to him.
The kiss was equal parts sweet and ravishing. Gentle and overpowering. It was as if neither of them could get enough of the other, simply seeking more, more, more .
Dream was floating. He didn’t know what emotion to feel first.
George was here, in front of him, a part of him and Dream never wanted to let him go. He wanted to learn about him. Fuck, he’d love to.
Exactly where he liked to be kissed. How he liked to be praised. Everywhere he wanted to be touched. Any way Dream could make him feel good, feel wanted, feel happy. He felt George distantly pushing at his chest. So he moved, and the small of his back touched the edge of the counter.
He was pinned. The realization sent sparks up his spine.
George kissed vigorously at Dream’s lips. Lips that had been chewed raw no less than a few times in recent days. Work stress, nerves, and the unresolved tension between the blond and one of his closest friends had gotten to him, and his poor mouth had paid the consequences.
George had noticed Dream’s lip bleeding earlier today. He’d made a joke about kissing it better. Dream laughed it off like he normally did, but everything inside of the brunet had wanted to act.
Prove that he wasn’t joking.
So he took advantage of this moment, kissing Dream so passionately and willing his lips to heal. Sure, maybe it was a little childish, the idea of ‘kissing it better’.
But George was never one to let cheesy thoughts dissuade him.
The faintest taste of blood hit George’s tongue and he realized that Dream’s lip was bleeding again. They must've accidentally opened a healing wound.
George pulled away slowly, much to Dream’s dislike, and studied the pretty pink lips in front of him. Sure enough, a small patch of dry skin had split just a little. A tiny bead of red was settled on the cracked skin, although its presence was short-lived as George gently wiped it away.
Dream was so weak at George’s hand. This was unreal. Something in the pit of his gut erupted with energy as George kissed him again, so softly. It was light, sweet, genuine, and so loving.
“Your lips…” George whispered against Dream’s skin. He heard a soft chuckle come from his opposite; he could feel it rumble in Dream’s chest.
Dream paused, close enough for his lips to brush George’s when he spoke.
“Yeah? What about them?”
He sounded breathless. His cheeks were flushed and George wondered if he knew what he was doing, looking at him through lidded eyes and thick lashes.
“You pick at them, right? You bite them?”
A nod.
“Well, don’t.”
Dream laughed softly, a sound that George didn’t think he’d ever get sick of.
“No promises. But why not?” Dream asked. He leaned just a little closer, brushing George’s lips with his own. Tingles raced up George’s back.
“Because you have me now.”
He pulled Dream back into him. This time, Dream kissed back hard . His hands slid up George’s body, cupping his face, keeping him close. God, he hoped George could feel how much he loved him. How much he cared.
The fire against George’s lips elicited quiet noises from his throat, wordlessly begging for more as his fingers curled into the dirty blonde waves that he’d silently adored for months. Years, even.
The light tugging pulled a soft moan from the younger man and George swore that, were this some sort of cheesy romance novel, his knees would’ve buckled. Instead, he pushed himself onto his toes, pushed himself into the warm and welcoming presence that was Dream.
Dream felt like sunshine.
Strong, vibrant, sure, and WARM. Fuck, he was so warm. His arms fit so perfectly around George, like a blanket George never wanted to leave from. But he was so careful, so soft. He practically gave into George and the latter had a sneaking suspicion that whatever he wanted to do, Dream would bend to his every whim.
George pulled away first, desperate for breath that he was sure would simply be stolen from him in a short while. Dream’s forehead bumped against his, and the two of them just gazed at the other for a moment.
The peach color on Dream’s cheeks was evident even in the last of the evening light, and George couldn’t help but think that it suited him. His eyes seemed to sparkle in a way that just pulled the older man in; so mesmerizing, and full of promises.
And his lips?
They were bright red, a little raw from being picked and pulled at for days on end, but they curved into a gentle smile, kissed out and blissful. There was no blood to be seen.
Kiss it better…
Dream was a summer's day. Warm tea after biting cold. He was sea mist under the blazing sun. Warm, golden, over-powering.
Intoxicating.
Dream’s lips move down to George’s neck, and the older man is convinced he died and gone to heaven.
The younger man’s mouth kisses vigorously at the pale skin beneath it, teeth and tongue running over the soft canvas. When he finds the spot that makes George’s head roll back and draws a whimper from his lips, he targets it.
If Cloud 9 could be described, George would claim it was now. The ecstasy coursing through his veins made him feel like he was floating, made his legs tingle and his mouth beg for more.
Even in the moment, however, even while George quietly begged him not to stop, Dream was gentle, careful.
He kissed over every spot his teeth might leave a mark on. Over one particular spot - one that made George’s fingers curl into Dream’s shirt and try, in vain, to pull him closer - where he’d ensured there would be a reminder of him later, Dream moved back up to George’s lips and murmured a quiet apology against them.
Tears sprang to George’s eyes as Dream moved down to his collar. Everything felt so good, like it had been curated just for him. Special.
He wanted more. He never wanted this to end. He wanted to stop time and have Dream all to himself.
Fuck everything else, he wanted to be selfish.
He wanted Dream.
Darkness had entirely encapsulated the kitchen. Dream’s lips against George’s skin were slowing down. He lingered against one of the sensitive portions of George’s neck, sucking on it enough to pull one last whimper out of the pleasure-ridden man in front of him. He pulled away with no particular flourish and the two of them were quiet.
The pale moonlight falling through the blinds was the only light by which they could see each other. Crickets, the rustling of trees, and heavy, panting breaths were the only sounds to break the silence of the night.
For a long moment, the two of them clung to each other, drinking in the presence of their partner pressed against them.
“Dream?”
“Yeah?”
George’s tongue felt dead in his mouth. What exactly should he say now? How does one start a conversation with their best friend after straight up making out with them?
But Dream had always had a knack for understanding George.
“What if we talk about this tomorrow, when we’re not tired and in the moment?” He offered softly. George swallowed hard, nodding.
But what if they were different after tomorrow? What if this had changed them for the worse? George tried to beat down the worrisome thoughts, but nonetheless, he feared. He didn’t wanna lose this. Lose Dream.
But what if…
One of Dream’s fingers gently pressed under George’s chin, tilting his face up. They locked eyes once more, and Dream leaned forward, pressing another soft kiss against George’s lips.
“Lets try and go to sleep before your brain starts working overtime, yeah?” The question was once more murmured against the older’s mouth.
“Mhm…”
Dream pulled back, almost regretfully. His eyes flicked from George’s own to his lips and back again. George practically did the same. The longing was obvious. The remaining tension was thick enough to cut. Both of them wanted to continue this; if nothing else, that much was evident.
“Save it for tomorrow,” George teased, quietly. “After that talk, yeah?”
Dream laughed again. George would have tackled him and kissed him silly all over again if he weren’t so nervous.
“Yeah. After the talk.”