Archive of Our Own

It didn't matter how busy he kept himself during the day, his nights always ended the same.

From sunup til sundown George buried himself in tasks. He took every shift he could get at work. His manager was pleasantly surprised by the drastic increase in his work ethic, giving him a pat on the back when George even agreed to stay back past closing to deep clean the coffee machine on his own.

It had been lonely and kind of creepy in there by himself, but the tricky task of taking the machine apart, scrubbing it and putting it back together had been sufficiently distracting to keep the thoughts at bay for another hour.

And, well, the benefit of having half of the other workers owing him shifts didn't escape him either.

He'd also never been so far ahead in his schoolwork, to the point that his tutor had banned him from emailing her past a certain time with his latest drafts or questions.

George scowled at the latest email that had bounced back, closing his laptop with a huff and leaning back in his computer chair.

Earlier that day he'd even asked for some extra credit work, but she'd looked at him like he was insane, shooing him out the small and incredibly outdated computer room his college used for their coding classes, telling him to get some rest.

Coding was something that had always come naturally to him, so with no college work to do, he’d instead turned to coding some projects in video games, taking on a few commissions from an online gaming community he was part of. But sadly, even those didn’t keep him occupied for that long. Once they were made and tested and passed on to the players, his job was done.

Sapnap and Quackity had started shooting him concerned looks he pretended to miss as he cleaned their apartment to sparkling. The mostly unopened cleaning products under their kitchen sink (many of which had been left from a previous tenant) had been busted out as George swept and   mopped and scrubbed and dusted every available surface.

His hands were red and sore from the unfamiliar harsh chemicals by the time he finished all of the chores and looked around with his hands on his hips. He stretched his back, dissatisfied with a job well done.

George was fairly certain it hadn't even been this clean when they'd moved in a few years ago.

But none of it mattered. Every night, he fell into bed with exhausted reluctance, eyes literally unable to stay open a moment longer, asleep before his head even struck the pillow.

The dreams, if they even were dreams, haunted him regardless. They sapped at his willpower, teasing at the edge of his consciousness. A single idle moment was enough to beckon the memories closer, a siren's call that dragged him closer and closer to the edge until he was barely hanging on by a fingernail.

But still, he tortured himself throughout the daylight hours and then some, firmly pushing away every tantalising memory as he worked himself to the bone. Even though he was exhausted, he was too stubborn to stop, to admit the truth.

Every night, he dreamed.

He was back in the woods. Shadows grabbed at him as he sprinted into its depths, making him stumble into the trees and trip over his own feet. Never enough to stop him, but working him up, the shadows forming into hands that gripped and groped as he slowed down.

George had to smack them away from his groin, his face flaming red with a mixture of shame and exertion, picking up speed again as he changed direction and left the shadows grasping at air.

It was difficult to run like this. His body couldn’t seem to differentiate between the adrenaline of running for his life and the excitement of being touched so intimately and possessively.

The shadows never left him for long though, impatient for his surrender. They flew up, covering the moon and stealing away the last of the light filtering through the canopy above, so that George had to stop and circle, shuddering with anticipation and fear and something else he didn’t want to name, even in his own mind. It was too dangerous.

“Oh Geoooorrrrrge,” the shadows crooned in a silky soft teasing tone that crawled into George’s chest and lit a fire there. It wasn’t the harsh grating voice of a predator trying to kill him, and it never ceased to confuse him, to burrow into the depths of his brain and leave a mark.

He was drowning in it.

“Come here, George,” the hunter purred, and then suddenly he was in his arms, head tilted back by a clawed hand as those sinful lips dipped down to taste him once more. It lasted for a mere second or two before he wrenched his head away and pushed at his chest, making the hunter release him.

Never for long though.  His legs burned with the exertion as he put one in front of the other, sprinting, ducking, weaving, but it was all for nothing. The shadows swooped in, pushing and grabbing, bringing him down to the ground and pinning him there.

His hands were brought up over his head and held in place by iron bands. He was helpless like this. It made it easier, somehow.

His head whipped to the side as phantom hands crawled all over his body, his mouth opening in a bitten off groan as he writhed underneath them, his heart racing in his chest and sweat slicking his skin. “No,” he heard himself groan, but it was a weak protest, belied by the undulating of his body under the greedy grasping hands holding him down against the dirt and feeling every inch of his body.

Bruises formed on the pale skin up his neck, sucked in by a mouth he couldn’t see but could feel, long fangs nipping at him and making him hiss at the pain.

He felt so possessed, owned, and he let out a sharp cry as a hand closed around his neck and squeezed-

With a cough, George wrenched himself out of the dream, struggling for breath that just didn’t want to come. It took a long few dazed moments for him to realise it was his own hand pressing in on either side of his neck, constricting his breathing and making him feel light-headed. He released it immediately and pushed himself upright with a grimace.

He was soaked with sweat, and he buried his face in his hands as he forced stuttered breaths of air in and out of his burning lungs, trying to calm down. His cheeks burned with shame. Underneath the pooled sheets, his cock was practically throbbing with desire.

“Fuck,” he whispered, shuddering as he pushed the sheets aside and awkwardly waddled into the ensuite bathroom. He leaned over to turn the sink on and splashed his face, sighing and leaning forward until his forehead met the glass of the mirror, his eyes clenched shut. He didn’t think he could face his own reflection right now.

George already knew what he would see. Dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, bitten lips.

As with every other morning, the thought that spurred him into frantic motion was the damning truth. A truth that he could no longer hide from, could no longer compartmentalise and shove down into the dark recesses of his mind.

He opened his eyes, pushing away from the mirror and studying himself, his eyes black not with fear, but with desire.

Because every night Dream chased him, and every night, George ran a little slower, pushed him away a little less, lips parting not with pleas to stop but bitten off pleas for more.

The truth was, George wanted to be caught. The fear that he’d felt that night was almost impossible to conjure now, hard to even fathom that it had once existed.

Dream was a sickness that had taken root under his skin, and George couldn’t pull him out.

With a frustrated snarl, George threw himself into the shower and turned the cold water tap as high as it would go, muffling his gasp into his own arm as it hit his heated flesh and washed his forbidden desire down the drain.

And like the heart beating beneath the floorboards, he felt the presence of Dream’s note from where he’d stuffed into the back of his bedside drawer, taunting him, calling out to him, begging him to close the gap and take the hand that was reaching out to him from the shadows.

***

Shifters didn’t need to sleep the way humans did. It was more like rest than anything else, with his senses spread outward across the building he lived in, passively sapping at the emotions and dreams of those that lived around him. It was sustenance, more so than food, and what kept him going in the in-between times, when there was limited excuse to prowl and feast.

Since he’d met George, though, he’d barely needed it. Dream couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so strong, so full of vitality. Many of his powers that had become latent in recent decades were starting to return. Shifting felt smooth and effortless, and the ability to read and manipulate the minds around him was second nature to him once again.

George just felt so strongly, more so than any other human he’d interacted with, and the thread that tethered George to him was a shining beacon in his mind.

Which was why he’d noticed, immediately, when George had begun dreaming of him.

The first time had only been a few days since he’d given George his number. Regretfully, his phone had remained silent, but he hadn’t given up hope just yet. It took time to process the existence of the supernatural, and he could afford to be patient.

Dream, lying in bed with his eyes closed, had shivered as the thread between them had been plucked. It was a siren’s call, and one that made him rise immediately out of his semi-conscious state into full wakefulness. It always hummed anytime George thought of him, so the reverberating line had pulled him like a fish to a hook, gliding along it and straight into the tumbled hellscape of George’s nightmare.

His little rabbit was running, heart just about pounding out of his chest, trees whipping him as he sprinted past. It was dark, even darker than it had been that night on Halloween, the shadows close and ripping at George’s clothes.

The fear was back and singing through Dream’s veins and he gave a delighted hum, drinking it in. He followed George into the woods, drawn like a bee to honey. It was intoxicating, and he revelled in it, capturing George in his long claws and pulling him against his chest so that he could bury his face in his neck and breathe him in.

George had gasped and writhed, scrambling to try and get away, and Dream had let him go, had let him continue running as he swayed in place, a satiated smirk dancing on his lips.

It wasn’t just one night, either. A pattern started, and though it started happening later and later, inevitably at some point Dream would be pulled into George’s dream.

He still had to be careful, of course, not to take too much from him. His nightly excursions to his dreams were kept to small periods, with him mostly along for the ride. They weren’t his doing, of course, but when he could hear George’s panting breaths and erratic heartbeat along the thread that connected them, he was completely unable to resist following it and tasting the other man’s emotions.

If George was a drug, then Dream was an addict.

Night after night, George dreamed, each time replaying the events of Halloween. But over time, the fear was receding, replaced with frustration and want. They were strong enough to give Dream a nice boost, a pep to his step, and he thoroughly enjoyed watching George inching ever closer to his inevitable surrender. It was coming, he was sure of it. He was close.

But in the meantime, Dream still had to continue the business of pretending to be a regular human. Many shifters had refused to assimilate into human society, but Dream had embraced it with arms wide open. Hiding in plain sight was much easier when you stuck to a regular, dependable schedule.

As much as possible, he tried to avoid using his powers when working. He’d learned a long time ago not to rely on them. Every supernatural action took energy, and while there were opportunities to soak in the emotions of others, doing it long term had noticeable effects. He’d had to change identity more times than he cared to admit to avoid detection when the humans started to get suspicious. The invention of HR had been his worst nightmare for a while there.  Changing identities was difficult, and expensive.

He had the knack of it now, though, and it had been a number of years since he’d had to suddenly cut ties and disappear due to a noticeable misstep.

After lazing in his enormous king-sized bed and luxuriating in the aftermath of George’s most recent dream, he pushed himself up with a groan and made his way to the shower.

It was early enough that he could indulge. He turned the water up until the bathroom filled with steam before stepping under it, humming with satisfaction as it cascaded down his chest and ran over his hard cock.

Human bodies were fascinating things. The stronger he grew, the more he could sink into the flesh in truth, enjoying the many benefits that this body could provide him. Power sang in his veins, lighting him up until desire had him bracing himself against the shower wall with his head pillowed against his arms, his shadows moving down his body in teasing little licks.

Dream sighed, teeth biting down on his lower lip as he nudged the shadows with a thought, hips twitching forward as they grasped his cock. He closed his eyes and conjured the fantasy, giving the shadows form.

With the link to George still active, a thread that stretched the distance between them, it was no surprise to him that the phantom hand was much smaller than his own as it tentatively glided up and down his cock.

It still made him groan though, the thought of his cute little rabbit like this, on his knees and shyly giving him pleasure, opening those gorgeous plump lips of his and closing around the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he hissed, hips surging forward into that hot, wet heat, lips closing around the base of his cock. Shadow George whimpered around him as he slowly pulled back and then pushed back in, letting him feel every inch of him. Back and forth in a torturously slow glide as Dream worked himself up.

He was hot now, restless, ravenous, and suddenly his hips snapped forward, his own subconscious filling his ears with the choked whines George would give below him as he choked on his cock, as he took the pounding Dream was giving him, the head of his cock slamming at the back of his throat.

Had he ever wanted anything more than he wanted George below him? More than George taking him in every way? More than George surrendering to him and giving him everything he desired?

Just the thought of George offering himself was enough to send Dream over the edge, his release painting the tiles in front of him as his body shuddered through an orgasm. It made his blood sing, the thread between him and George shining blindingly in his mind’s eye.

Panting, Dream pushed himself away from the tiles and let the water wash him clean, examining it closely.

Most of the doubt was gone now, most of the shame, most of the fear.

Anticipation made his mouth water.

Tonight would be the night.  Tonight, George would be his, in every way possible.

***

George stood in front of the coffee machine, wiping it down with a cloth during a quiet moment. The smattering of customers inside had been served already, and no-one new was filtering in from outside. Considering the heavy rain that had started half an hour ago, he wasn’t really surprised. You’d have to be crazy to be out in this kind of weather.

He threw the cloth into the sink and stuck his head into the kitchen. “I’m going to take a break,” he told the manager, who waved him off. Stripping off his apron and grabbing his phone from his locker, he made his way over to one of the booths and slid into the seat, turning to look outside.

The howling wind had the rain blowing practically sideways, the water sliding down the glass obscuring the world outside, giving it a dream-like quality. George shivered, pulling his sleeves down his forearms. Hopefully it eased up by the time he finished his shift, otherwise he’d have to try and call Q for a lift home.

However, when he checked his phone, he had no service. He groaned, throwing the phone down onto the table and slumping back against the seat. Was he seriously going to have to walk home in a freak storm?

Lost in his misery, he barely noticed when the bell above the door chimed, announcing the entrance of a new customer. He didn’t turn to look, keeping his eyes down as he tried to think of how the fuck he was going to make it home.

Which is why it was a surprise when someone slid into the booth opposite him, nudging a steaming mug towards him a few minutes later.

George looked up, and froze.

The man sitting across the table from him was tall, with dirty blonde curls made even darker by the water that had them stuck to his skin. His eyes were piercing, his lips soft and curled up in a deceptively charming smile. The last time he’d seen him, well, this version of him at least, he’d had no idea who he was. But there was no mistaking him now.

“Dream,” he said, his heart hammering inside his chest. “What are you doing here?”

The shifter shrugged, slouching back in his chair. “I came to see you, obviously. You haven’t called me.” His smile turned sharp, with just a hint of fang showing. “Not with your phone, at least.”

He stilled. Did that mean-

George jumped as something brushed at his ankle. In front of him, Dream cupped his own mug, taking a sip from it and looking serene, while under the table his shadowy tendrils slid up George’s pants legs, gliding over his skin.

He should call out, or get up and leave, anything. But he didn’t move, heat singing up his spine as the shadows climbed higher, brushing the inside of his thighs.

Biting down a whimper, he stared helplessly up at Dream, who watched him with the eyes of a predator, one that was starving.

“You’re not drinking your hot chocolate,” Dream said, nudging it closer again. “You don’t want it to get cold.”

George picked it up with hands that trembled, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. As the warmth slid down the back of his throat, the shadows encircled his hips and tightened, dragging his legs apart. He almost choked, and Dream made a concerned noise, reaching to take the mug from him and setting it back down.

“You need to be careful,” Dream tutted, his eyes darkening.  “I wouldn’t want you to choke.”

He had a feeling that Dream would prefer the exact opposite. An image flooded his mind, of him on his knees, his jaw aching as he was fed a thick cock with a pump of Dream’s hips and for a moment he felt it, thick and hot as it slammed into the back of his throat.

George whimpered as he had two realisations. He was hard, and he couldn’t move. In his distraction, he’d failed to realise that the shadows had continued to climb, wrapping not only around his thighs, but his hips, his stomach, his shoulders, his arms. They constricted him as surely as any rope would, holding him completely immobile.

And all the while, Dream watched him, completely uncaring of the unsuspecting humans that sat in the tables nearby.

Though, one by one, they were starting to brave the weather outside and head home. George noticed another couple leaving from the corner of his eye, and his stomach clenched.  If this was what Dream was willing to do to him in public, he shuddered to think of what he’d be capable of doing to him when they were alone.

Dream smiled.

“Do you want us to be alone, little rabbit?” he asked, nonchalant as he took another sip of his beverage. “That can certainly be arranged.”

He didn’t know what he wanted. It was far easier to be brave when Dream wasn’t there in front of him, his shadows licking at his skin and pinning him in place against the booth. Something about the shifter had him weak at the knees, wanting to be devoured but completely unable to open his mouth and beg for it. Instead, he sat silent and trembling, exactly like the little rabbit Dream likened him to.

Dream took his silence as agreement. Around them, the staff ushered the last remaining customers out and closed down the shop. His manager walked straight past him, her eyes skating over his figure like he wasn’t even there, the last to leave as she twisted the lock and pulled the door closed behind her.

The bold display of power made him shiver.

He found his voice. “How did you do that?”

“It was easy enough,” Dream said with a shrug. “They were all thinking about going home anyway. I just gave them a little nudge.”

“You were in their minds.” He didn’t phrase it as a question. Dream had just confirmed what he’d already suspected. Suddenly, a hint of the fear returned, choking him. Dream was in his head, he could hear his thoughts, had been in his dreams, had seen-

“I was,” Dream agreed, cutting the thought off. He studied George, looking thoughtful. “It bothers you.”

Of course it bothered him. What about free will?

“You have free will,” Dream pointed out, answering his thought, leaning closer into his space. George stiffened, but the shifter continued, his voice a low lover’s croon. “You can deny it as much as you like, sweet rabbit, but I think we both know that you’re exactly where you want to be.”

“No,” he said weakly. “It’s not true.”

Even to his own ears, the words rang false.

Dream tilted his head, considering him. “You can try and run from this as much as you want. In the end, the truth has a way of catching up to you.”

The shadows slipped away. George remained still, feeling suddenly naked without them.

“You’re letting me go?” he asked, studying the shifter’s face. He couldn’t read him though; he might as well have been wearing a mask.

Dream didn’t answer. Instead, he finished his drink and stood up, sliding out of the booth. He stood over George, helping him up to stand on knees that felt kitten-weak, barely able to support his own weight and clutching at the shifter’s jacket to stay upright.

He staggered with Dream’s aid to the door, watching dumbly as Dream unlocked it, ushering him out into the storm and closing it behind them.

George was instantly soaked and shivering, and he looked up and down the empty street, lit only by the weak streetlights shining above. He turned back to Dream, who was studying him, his expression hidden in the darkness.

The shifter moved closer, wrapping his arms around him and turning them both. Ice suffocated him, clawing at his lungs, and he gasped for breath, fighting against the iron grip that held him tightly against Dream’s chest. Within moments that seemed to stretch on for aeons, it ended, and George reeled back, disoriented as he desperately sucked in air.

The backs of his knees hit against something soft and he went careening backwards onto… a bed?

Though the lights were off and it was dark, as George whipped his head around what was clearly his own bedroom, his mouth fell open. “What? How?”

Dream stood at the end of his bed and looked down at him, amusement clear in the glittering gold of his eyes. “You may want to stay down there for a little while. Dizziness is common with shadow travel.”

He blinked. They’d just been outside of Coffee Co, and now they were in his apartment. That wasn’t possible. Not only the way in which they’d travelled, but also the fact that Dream had been able to bring them to a place he’d never been before. How did Dream know the inside of George's apartment?

The shifter rolled his eyes. “I suggest you get some sleep,” he said, a hint of impatience to his tone. “It’s time to see what will win out–your stubbornness or the truth.”

He turned to go, but George somehow managed to find his voice.

“You think I’ll give in.”

Dream paused, glancing back at him over his shoulder. “You’re already mine, rabbit. I could take you right now, on your bed. I could have you in every which way I desire, have you screaming my name, have you begging for more.”

George stared at him, entranced by his words, feeling faint. Where his own words had rung false, the shifter’s were ringing true, clear as a bell. Between his legs, his cock throbbed at the dark promise of pleasure those words held.

It could be his, but-

“It’s not me you’re running from.”

And with that, the shifter sunk back into the shadows, leaving him alone.

***

As amusing as it might have been to hover on the edge of George’s consciousness and watch him wrestle with his demons, Dream decided to head out to the woods. The weather was still wet and bitterly cold, but it kept the streets empty, and so he was able to walk in solitude. Rain had never particularly bothered him much.

Even as a youth, he’d sought out the wildest of storms to test himself in, sprinting and bounding across the damp Earth as he tried to outrun the wind itself. It was something that exhilarated him.

He shook off the human body at the edge of the trees and dropped into a more canine form, large and powerful. His bones cracked as they reformed themselves, but he barely noticed it, his snout turned up to the where a sliver of the moon could be seen between two dark clouds heavy with imminent rain. The rain slicked away from his thick, waterproof pelt to pool underneath him.

The storm was about to get worse.

Dream gave a wolfy grin that was all fang, tensing his body, ready to spring into the hunt.

After riling George up, he needed to release some of his pent up energy. Then he would be ready to play.

Nearby, a bird let out an alarmed kind of screech as they sensed him, and like it was a starting gun at a race, Dream launched himself forwards, paws skidding in the dirt as he fought the mud and slickened foliage for purchase. His nails, each long and wickedly sharp, tore into the Earth as he picked up speed, easily dodging and weaving through the dark, dripping woods with an agility that belied his size.  

Despite his canine shape, he felt the most human he had in what felt like decades. The return of his wide array of powers was a kind of electric shock that was reviving him. The world that had been starting to dull and grey around the edges was being splashed across a vivid canvas once more, and his lungs were full with air that felt crisp and sweet. His body and mind sung with power, with vitality, with feeling.

Before him, the woods that had been his home for as long as he could remember unfurled, welcoming him into its shadowed depths like the arms of a long-lost lover. How long had it been since he’d truly enjoyed its embrace, since he’d followed the whisper of the trees and lent them sips of his strength to bring new life to their boughs?

Too long, he acknowledged. He’d been neglecting his duties. He’d forgotten his purpose. Protector, yes. Demon on the prowl, when necessary. But also giver of life. He’d allowed the humans to encroach too far, take too much of him. Too many decades had he spent on blending in to avoid notice.

Dream’s legs pumped underneath him, carrying him deeper and deeper into the depths of the woods where no one else dared to tread. Many of the groves here had seen no one but him. They were sacred places, little pockets of power.

He arrived at the first of them a few minutes later, pausing at its edge and sniffing the air. It was stale with neglect, the power here dim and barely teasing at his mind, dormant.

Well, waking it up would be simple enough. How much it might take from him was another thing entirely. He considered his options.   This was only one of several clearings. If each of them were in a similar state, he would need a strong surge of power to awaken them all.

But tonight, he would begin here.

Gathering his shadows, Dream moved forward until he stood directly in the centre, the ancient trees towering high above him. Here, the forest's sounds were muted by the thick canopy, closing overhead until no light reached the ground below. Dream stood there in complete darkness, even his keen wolf eyes blind to the woods around him.

Distantly, he noted George slipping into an uneasy sleep, the clamour of his warring thoughts falling quiet. It would only be a matter of time before the dream began.

Dream dropped the wolf pelt and stood on two legs once more, holding out both palms and closing his eyes as he turned his mind inwards, to the centre of his power.

Once, connecting to his centre had been as easy as taking his next breath, but the decades passing had his magic in a snarled maze of thread. He had to patiently pick at it, untangling the strands and smoothing it out, binding it all back to his core.

By the time he was finished, the thread between him and George was tugging at his consciousness, and the clearing was lit by the twin suns bursting from both palms.

Yes, it was time.

Dream touched at the thread and pulled George's dream towards him, hurtling his mind forward to meet him while his body remained.

And George ran from him, gasping as he swooped at him from the shadows. "Fuck," he cursed, skidding and changing direction as he weaved around Dream and continued deeper into the woods.

Dream turned to watch, his mouth watering as the hunger for this impressive human growled in his belly. George's rain slick curls were parted by two twitchy little rabbit ears that looked velvety soft.

He'd never wanted a creature more in his life.

With his power a bright, burning flame inside of him, catching up to George was as easy as a thought, and he tackled the human to the wet, muddy Earth, pinning him with his shadows and his much larger body.

Beneath him, the human writhed against his hold. He allowed it, a rumble pouring from his lips as he caught at one of those ears with his teeth, nipping at it. George whimpered.

"Little rabbit," he growled. "When are you going to stop running from the truth?"

The only response was a hard kick to his thigh as George managed to wriggle to the side, scrambling back to his feet. Dream was hot on his heels, his shadows and claws nicking at his skin and ripping his clothes as he herded the human deeper into the forest's depths.

George would not be eluding him tonight.

At long last, the human tripped over a large root and skidded in the dirt, crying out as he landed heavily just inside a large clearing.

Dream smiled as the human rolled onto his back, his small chest heaving as he sucked in air, his eyes blown wide and pupils dilated as he stared up at him.

He glided closer, his shadows wrenching George from his prone position into an upright one. Slowly, he stalked around him, his eyes devouring his prize.

When he was behind George, he closed that last bit of distance between them, his larger body dwarfing George's as he pressed against his back. He had to close his eyes as he felt a cute little tail shaking against him, teasing at his groin. Rather than move away though, George pressed back into him, that pert bottom rubbing against Dream's body.

"You're playing with fire, right now, little rabbit," he crooned, wrapping an arm around him and pinning him tight against his body.

George didn't respond and Dream brought his other hand up to grasp his chin, turning it to the side. His teeth were bitten into his lower lip, and his cheeks were flushed red. He met Dream's gaze, his eyes lidded and glazed with lust.

He smirked and leaned down, his tongue rough over the smooth skin of George's cheek. He tasted divine, sweat saturated with fear and desire, and he twisted his neck around further to nudge his mouth open and claim it, still holding George against his body, trapped not only with the clawed hands that gripped him, but by the shadows twining around him.

Dream pulled away slightly, waiting for George's eyes to clear.

George blinked a few times, licking his lips, those cute little ears twitching nervously.

"Will you give yourself to me?" Dream asked him.

Even now, with every cell of his body screaming at him to claim and possess the smaller human, he gave him one last chance to back out.

The whole forest held its breath, waiting for the answer.

***

Despite the way the shadows shifted and changed around him, Dream was warm and solid against his back. His neck ached slightly from turning back to look at him, but George barely noticed. Instead, he found himself gazing back at the shapeshifter, drawn into his gaze.

He’d never really been this close to Dream before, close enough to pick out the gold of his eyes. He knew they were probably green, but he’d never been able to see it.

His expression was solemn, and he didn’t press George, waiting for him to think and truly consider his offer. He appreciated it, as much as deep down he wished the shapeshifter would take the option out of his hands.

Then, he wasn’t truly culpable. Like this, there would be no hiding behind any technicalities. If he backed out now, there was no doubt in George’s mind that Dream would let him go free.

And that, perhaps, was what was making him seriously consider it. Could a creature that was so determined to give him this choice truly as evil as he’d first assumed on Halloween? In the nights since then, he’d wracked his brain, trying to remember as many details as possible. Dream had chased him, had teased him, had captured him.

He’d never once hurt him.

That night, all he’d escaped with was a few scratches and bruises and a weariness that he’d felt all the way down to his aching bones.

He’d slept for a full twenty hours and woken to two very worried and apologetic friends. They’d fussed over him for at least a week afterwards, bringing him pillows and blankets and food. At the time, George had been too lost in his thoughts to really appreciate their hovering.

The terror had stuck with him though. Being out in that graveyard had been scary enough in and of itself before Dream had even found him, and the gruelling hours that had followed had been some of the worst he’d ever experienced. He’d been so sure that he was going to die, despite his efforts to try and outsmart the hunter.

Somehow, though, he’d survived. The hunter had let him go.

And all these weeks later, here George was, back in his clutches. But Dream didn’t seem all that interested in mauling him. Not with the way George could feel Dream’s large and impressive length pressed up against his lower back, or the way his shadows wound around his arms and legs, not constricting so much as holding him steady.

That kiss, too. Last time, George had been surprised by how gently and thoroughly the shapeshifter had kissed him. This time, though, had been far more possessive. It had tasted like something beyond his wildest imaginings, making all kisses he’d received before pale by comparison. George licked his lips, tasting life itself, sunlight and lush growing things. That was different too.

He’d changed, George realised.

George pulled his gaze away from Dream’s face and turned, only just now looking around, taking in his surroundings.

The clearing was lit somehow, but not by anything he could see. This late, he should be able to see some light from the moon, perhaps even some stars but far above them, the canopy of leaves was dense enough to completely block out the sky.

Why then, could he practically see every bough and leaf in intricate detail? He shouldn’t even be able to see his own hand in front of his face. It was strange too, so much more vivid and colourful than anything he’d ever experienced in his own life.

“How?” He whispered.

He knew without looking that Dream followed his gaze to the branches that towered over them.

“The light?” Dream guessed.

George shook his head, completely dumbstruck. The more he looked at the trees, the more vibrant they seemed, the colours becoming brighter and brighter, not various shades of brown, but something far more rich and alive.

“Is this what green looks like?”

He felt Dream go still. “You’re colourblind?”

George nodded. His eyes were stinging now, his fingers trembling as emotions he could barely name sang in his chest. He stepped forward and Dream released him, his shadows kissing down his body as they trailed away.

Walking further into the clearing, George turned around and around, drinking it all in. It wasn’t completely flat, with a few smaller trees interspersed throughout it and a shallow pool of water off to one side. Some flowers could be seen here and there, but they seemed kind of pale and listless.

He frowned, scooping down to brush his fingers over the petals of what appeared to be a daisy.

“Don’t these usually grow on a bush?” He wondered aloud.

“Would you like it to?” Dream asked.

George glanced back at him. Dream’s eyes were fixed on him, a funny expression on his face, his head tilted slightly.

He nodded, and Dream moved closer, reaching a hand down to help him up. George accepted his help, his stomach swooping at the way Dream reached up to cup his cheek.

“You want to revive the flower?” Dream murmured, his thumb swiping over George’s lower lip, sending sparks zipping through his bloodstream. “Kiss me.”

George studied him for a moment and then it was his turn to reach for Dream, getting up on his tippy toes to press his mouth to Dream’s and kiss him, his fingers digging into the broad shoulders of the shapeshifter so that he could deepen the kiss, his tongue nervously darting out to taste him.

Dream opened to him and pulled George close with his other arm, dipping his head down to take control of the kiss, the drag of his tongue over his own making George see stars behind his eyelids. He shuddered as the sparks he’d felt before intensified, centering somehow on his hands.

Before George could truly get into the kiss, Dream pulled away, waiting for George to open his eyes before he gently grasped his wrist, guiding him down to the daisy. The second his fingers brushed its petals, George gasped, what felt like liquid lightning flowing from his fingers to the flower, a bright light blinding him. When the light faded and he could open his eyes, George was immediately awed by the large daisy bush that had sprouted from the one flower, heavy laden with more blooms.

“Beautiful,” Dream commended him, helping him back up.

“I did that?” George asked breathlessly, turning to look at him.

Dream smiled. “You did.”

George looked down at his hands, examining his palms and then the daisy bush, before looking around the clearing. Now that he was seeing it with fresh eyes, he could see the decay, the strange emptiness. There was a strong sense of abandonment and disarray, like the trees here had been forgotten for aeons.

When he looked back at Dream, he saw a sad kind of understanding in the hunter’s eyes.

George had another realisation. “You brought me here to help.”

“Partly,” Dream admitted.

He licked his lips. “Only partly?”

The look Dream shot him made his cock twitch. The lust that Dream had awoken him roared back to life, and suddenly he was too hot, restlessness making him squirm. Dream was looking at him like he wanted to eat him alive.

George no longer saw it as a bad thing.

Holding the hunter’s gaze, he moved by memory towards the nearest tree, letting his back press against the cool bark to steady him.

“Come here,” he whispered.

Dream was there a second later, his shadows grasping at his wrists and bringing them above his head, his hands gripping tightly at his hips.

“You’re mine,” Dream said, a pleasant rumble to his voice that sent shivers down George’s spine.

He looked up at him, looking into his eyes, a far more luminous green than George could have imagined.

“So take what’s yours,” he said, angling his chin up in invitation. 

“Mine,” Dream growled again, leaning down and nipping at his lower lip. “My little rabbit.”

“Yours,” he agreed.

***

Nudging George’s head to the side, Dream attacked the pale skin of his neck with his teeth, sucking hard. With barely a thought, he directed his shadows to form into thin tendrils that swooped under George’s ratty clothes, ripping the loose fabric from his body, the scraps falling to the ground at their feet.

He pulled back slightly, looking down the expanse of skin before him, all of it covered in a thin covering of fur coloured the palest grey, darkening the further down Dream looked. He drank in the sight of him, his hunger flaring as he breathed in the lust pouring from George’s pores, the clearing filled with the delicious scent of it. Already, Dream could feel the trees bending towards them, drinking it in.

George’s cock jutted proudly from a small nest of darker hair, decently long despite his smaller stature, with an attractive girth to it. Dream wanted nothing more than to taste the liquid pooling at the tip, and so a slightly thicker tendril flicked over the head, scooping it up and bringing it to his lips.

His little rabbit stared at him, transfixed, as his tongue flicked out to taste.

“Oh gods,” George whimpered. He grinned at him, enjoying the way the human squirmed in his firm hold. He was an impatient little thing.

Dream wanted to draw this out, though, so he released his hold on George’s hips and stepped back, keeping the human in place with just his shadows.

George’s protests were immediately silenced as Dream expertly manipulated his shadows, sending two thicker strands to wrap firmly around his thighs, lifting them high and apart, so that he was bared to Dream’s hungry gaze. His eyes dropped and he rumbled his pleasure. George was utterly perfect, beautiful all over.

With a light touch to George’s mind, he considered his next move. George was desperate for his touch, his thoughts filled with imaginings of his hands and mouth on him, his cock filling him, taking him. And while these thoughts were compelling, he was enjoying his view right now far too much to give it up so easily.

No, he wanted to watch George come apart.

And so instead, his shadows snaked from his back like tentacles, some thin, some thick, all hell bent on doing one thing and one thing only: pleasuring George. Two smaller tentacles slid around his chest, constricting just slightly while their thin, tapered off ends teased at his nipples, flicking them into tight little buds. Another wrapped around his neck, not squeezing so much as massaging, the threat of cutting off his air implied. He felt the rapid pace of his pulse fluttering over the shadow and smirked.

Another whine slipped from George’s lips as Dream sent a tentacle to rub over the tight pucker of his hole, teasing at it with a thick, textured bulb that secreted something sticky and sweet.

Before George could think too much about the thickness of it or where it might be going, he sent another, wider and more cylindrical shadow to swallow down his length, applying suction as he eased it up and down.

“Oh fuck,” George whimpered, his hips giving aborted little thrusts that were hampered by a thick tendril tightening around his stomach to help keep him upright. Dream watched as his eyes rolled back, delightful little moans and whines falling from his open mouth. George looked exquisite like this, wrapped in his dark bonds, held open for him like a prize. He couldn’t wait to see how much pleasure he could wring from the human’s sensitive body.

He watched the feast before him, enjoying the phantom sensations sent to him through his shadows. It wasn’t as good as what touching him would be, but this was enough for him for now. George was practically glowing with life energy. Dream could see it in every vein of his body, all of it moving up to where his hands were pinned and being pulled into the bark of the tree. Every flick of his tendrils over George’s now puffy nipples, every slurp down over his cock, every hard rub against his lubricated hole, all of it was combining to overwhelm his senses and send him reeling as power flowed through him.

His eyes flicked back up George’s body to watch his expressions, the little furrow of his brow as he gasped, his little teeth sinking into his lower lip to try and muffle the desperate sounds he was making, the way he couldn’t help but groan every time that thick tentacle pressed in just a little harder against his hole, starting to tease him open.

Dream wasn’t sure how experienced the human was, and found the idea of delving into his mind to find out distasteful, but from the way that George was writhing between the tentacle swallowing down his length and the one pressing at his hole, trying to gain some friction, he was reasonable sure it wasn’t much.

It made a little bit of sense. This town was rather small and small-minded to boot. Dream had witnessed his fair share of distrust and distaste for those who found those of their same gender attractive.

Personally, he didn’t care. Humans of all shapes, sizes, genders and races were beautiful, none more so than the one before him now, with his clever mind and deep emotions.

Leaning in, Dream captured George’s chin in his hand and tilted it down, admiring him as those cloudy eyes opened and tried to focus on him once more.

“Are you ready for more?” He asked him gently, stroking his fingers over his attractively flushed cheek.

George licked his lips, looking slightly apprehensive. “More?”

He tilted his head, stopping all of the movements of his shadows bar the one nudging at George’s hole, the thick, bulbous head grinding into him. Only a single thought would be needed to slip it inside and fill him.

“Fuck,” George whimpered, his eyes widening. Dream smiled, twisting the tendril around and around, those textured little nodules rubbing over the slick, sensitive skin. George writhed.

“Do you want it?” He asked, leaning in closer so that George had to look up at him, those beautiful dark eyes staring up at him helplessly. “Do you want to know what it’s like to be full, little rabbit?”

The human didn’t even hesitate, whispering a soft “yes” and bucking his hips, trying to force it inside.

Dream smiled. For this, he wanted a much closer look.

George squeaked with surprise as he was rapidly turned by the shadows holding him in place, his hands still kept locked above his head while the shadows lifted his lower half, keeping him spread wide before Dream like a banquet.

“Gorgeous,” Dream breathed reverently, the heady smell of his arousal filling his nostrils and making his mouth water. His lubricated hole was dripping with the sticky, sweet slick his shadow had produced, and Dream’s willpower dangled by a single thread as that gorgeous puffy little rabbit’s tail at the base of George’s spine quivered from the anticipation.

There would be time enough to taste him later, he decided regretfully. For now, he wanted to hear George scream as his shadowed tentacle pounded into his tight little hole.

He brought it back up, watching with fascination as it teased George once more, twisting and grinding, slipping just a little further in each time, its lubrication easing the way inside. Though he couldn’t see George’s face anymore, he could still hear him, and his moans were only getting louder and wilder.

Absently, he hoped that the little human had locked his door, or wasn’t crying out in his sleep. He would hate for this pleasant little interlude of theirs to be interrupted by one of George’s housemates.

Although, with how much power George was generating for him, it took only the merest thought to find the bright spots of his friends in the rooms near his body and send them into a deeper slumber.

With that done, he turned his attention back to the writhing human before him.

***

George could barely tell which way was up. The only thing grounding him was the feeling of the rough bark beneath his palms, which he dug his fingers into as a shadow that felt thicker than his forearm rubbed over his entrance. He couldn’t keep still, especially because Dream had resumed the movements of all of his other shadows. With the way the one around his cock was sucking at him, this was going to be over embarrassingly fast.

The bands of shadows that held him suspended in the air held him fast, so that he could barely even move, no matter how desperate he got as Dream teased him. Gods, he needed Dream to move, needed to be filled so badly he could barely think straight.

“Dream,” he gasped, trying again to buck his hips as his sucking tentacle twisted around the head of his cock. “Please.”

“Such a good boy,” Dream purred from somewhere close behind him, “asking so nicely.”

He should feel ashamed of the way he was spread open for the hunter, everything on display, but he didn’t care. The pleasure was far too overwhelming.

Just as he thought he was about to go out of his mind, the thick head of the tentacle at his hole squirmed in just the right way with the perfect amount of pressure to slip inside. George stiffened, his jaw dropping open as it slowly but surely sunk inside of him, the thick head completely stealing his breath away. Even in his own mind, he could barely articulate what he was experiencing.

“Look at you,” Dream said, his voice deep and gravelly. George could feel the heat of his breath close to where his hole was stretched uncomfortably wide around the shadowed tentacle. It sent a hot shiver up his spine, his toes curling as the thick, ribbed appendage was sucked back out of his hole, immediately pressing back in. He cried out, bucking against Dream’s shadowed hold, and Dream repeated the action again.

He panted and moaned, feeling hot as the thick, bulbous head of the tentacle plunged in and out of his body in shallow thrusts, his rim giving way a little faster each time. It burned in the best kind of way, and he was soon beyond thought, bucking between both tentacles as the edge hurtled closer.

George could barely recognise the sounds falling from his own lips as another thin tentacle wound up his body, tightly wrapping around the base of his cock. No liquid came out as he convulsed, the tentacle at his cock continuing to pull him into its hungry, sucking mouth. It quickly became too much, and George was soon sobbing from the overstimulation, the pleasure only spiralling higher and higher, beyond anything he’d even been driven to before as his body tried desperately to come.

And all the while, Dream’s shadowed tentacle filled his ass, pushing past his sensitive rim and plunging inside of him. It was moving in deeper strokes now, slow and sure as his ass gave way to it, the slickness coming from the tentacle easing its way.

Dream was not unaffected by this. Over the sounds of his own moans, he could still hear his low growls and grunts as his tentacle plunged into George’s body. He wasn’t touching George, but if his sounds were any indication, he was still feeling something from them.

With that in mind, George turned his head slightly. One of Dream’s tentacles had wrapped around his neck, but in his distraction had come loose. If he bent down slightly, he would be able to reach it.

A particularly hard thrust made George groan. He just kept being pushed higher, until every sensation and brush of a tentacle over his skin sent little electric shocks through his body.

Before Dream could realise what he was doing, George leaned down far enough to nuzzle the tentacle, opening his mouth and closing his lips around the tip, sucking it down.

Dream cursed but didn’t pull it away, and George suckled at it, groaning as it thickened and filled his mouth, moving with him and hitting at the back of his throat. His moans were muffled as it filled him, and the triple threat of all three tentacles working him over was too much for him.

George felt nothing but pure bliss as his toes curled, the peak rising and rising like a tsunami. But it never seemed to crash, and he thrashed against his bonds, trying to find his release. His mind went completely blank, and it felt like he blacked out as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through him as he clenched around the thick tentacle inside him, but it was to no avail. That thin tentacle was still wrapped tightly around his base, preventing his release.

George cried out, tears slipping down his cheeks in rivers as his body shook with the desperate need to come. He’d been denied twice now, and wasn’t sure if he could bear a third.

Distantly, he noted his mouth filling with some kind of sweet, viscous liquid and swallowed it, suckling the tentacle desperately as two hands gently grasped him and lowered him to the ground and back against a warm, solid chest.

“You did well,” he heard Dream murmur, his fingers lightly running through George’s sweat-dampened hair. “I’ve got you.” He felt the hunter tug at one of his strangely long, floppy ears and shuddered, his every nerve on fire as he shook in the shapeshifter's arms.

Once the worst of the shakes had faded, Dream nudged George, soothing a hand down his back and scooping it under his legs, picking him up. The movement made George unintentionally clench around the thick length still buried deep in his ass and he whimpered, making the hunter shush him as he carried him against his chest. He was so full, and as the ripples of pleasure started to build once more, he became cognizant of the ball of energy and heat that he could feel building like a maelstrom inside him, all crackling lightning and whipping winds.

“Almost there,” Dream promised him, pressing a kiss to his temple. George leaned into it, and looked up at him, finding the shapeshifter looking at him with a tender look in his eyes. There was something reverent in it, something that made George feel like his throat was swelling up, his fingers tingling with what it promised.

“What’s happening to me?” He asked him with a whimper. “I feel so hot.”

“I know,” Dream said soothingly. “Don’t worry. The water will help.”

George turned his head to look at the pool of water he’d noticed earlier as Dream carried him closer. The water was clear enough that he could see the sandy bottom of it, little ripples lapping at the grassy shore. It seemed shallow, but as Dream stepped into it and lowered him into the water, George quickly realised that it was deceptively deep. Against his heated skin, the water was a relief, sapping some of it away until the water was starting to pleasantly steam around them.

“Better?” Dream asked. Blearily, George nodded. He could still feel the energy roiling inside of him, but it was a little more bearable now.

Dream rearranged him once again, this time bringing George’s legs up to wrap around his waist. George clung to him like a koala, gripping the back of his neck as he bobbed in the water in front of Dream.

One by one, the shadows that had held him slipped away, and George hissed as the one that had tightly bound his cock disappeared, unconsciously clenching around the final tentacle in his ass.

“Ready for the finale?” Dream asked him, his hands coming to grip his ass, squeezing the fat there and making George squirm.

“What’s the finale?” He asked breathlessly. His ruined orgasms had made him overly sensitive, and even the lapping of the water against his chest was sending shivers through him.

In answer, Dream finally pulled the last tentacle out and George’s eyes rolled back as the thick appendage stretched his rim, so much more swollen after the pounding he’d received. He whined as it retreated, feeling empty as his hole tried to close around something that was no longer there.

Dream chuckled and pulled his cheeks apart, baring his sensitive hole to the cooler water, leaving him bereft.

The same viscous liquid that had filled his mouth now oozed from his abused hole, making George squirm in Dream’s hold, clenching his legs tighter around his waist.

“Dream,” he complained, rubbing his sensitive cock against the taller hunter’s body. “Dream, please.”

“You want it?” Dream asked him. He lifted George slightly, something long and hard rubbing over his rim. George didn’t even think, just throwing himself down until it speared him, moaning loudly as Dream’s cock slid home.

“Oh gods,” George groaned, burying his face in Dream’s neck as he slowly sank down onto it. No wonder he’d used such a big tentacle to prepare him. His cock was monstrously thick, stretching him wide as it filled him.

Dream’s fingers tightened on his ass as he stopped him from sliding down any further, and George tilted his head back, moaning as he was lifted back up, then slowly sinking again. It was maddening, the thickness making him breathless, the slow slide making him curse, the quick rise making him beg.

He squirmed and thrashed, wanting to move faster, but completely unable to do so. The water made Dream too slippery for George to gain any traction and ride his cock like he so desperately needed to, and this maddeningly slow ride was killing him.

“Dream,” he demanded, digging his fingers into his hair and pulling his face closer. He bit at his lower lip. “It isn’t enough.”

***

The cute little pout George was giving him was slaying him, not to mention the way the incredible heat of him that kept squeezing the head of his cock so deliciously. He’d wanted to draw this out, tease him a little longer, but clearly his little rabbit was done with waiting.

He didn’t even need to touch George’s mind to feel the restless energy coiled inside of him. The human was more than ready to explode.

Dream smiled. He was more than ready himself. He’d never expected George. He was everything he’d ever imagined a partner would be.

When the time came, he hoped that the human would accept him.

Until then, though, it was time to give George what he needed.

“Take what you need,” he said, sending shadows winding around George’s calves and thighs, helping to prop him up and give him the leverage he needed to move.

“Thank fuck,” George cursed, pulling Dream’s hair and forcing his head back as he started to ride him. Dream sighed happily as he stood in place, letting the human take his pleasure from him, water sloshing around them. George bit at his neck, smothering the moans that were turning into harsher grunts of exertion, working himself over Dream’s cock.

When was the last time he’d felt something that was even a fraction as delicious as this?

Every part of George was a feast for Dream, from his incredible mind, to his delectable scent and the riot of emotions he constantly exuded. Even his body was exquisite. The way George’s hole swallowed every inch of his cock was testing every facet of his control. It was all he could do not to explode like a fumbling virgin.

From the way George was shaking against him as he ground down on his cock told him that this would be over soon, anyhow.

“That’s it, George,” he praised, his hands also helping to work George up and down his throbbing cock. “Gods, you feel so good. So hot, my sweet little rabbit.”

“Yours,” George whimpered.

Possessiveness flared in his chest. He could definitely get used to hearing that.

George was starting to falter, sweat dripping from his brow as his pleasure grew higher than he could handle. Dream took over, soothing his whimpers with a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, holding him still so he could thrust up into his ass, pounding deep inside until the water around them thrashed and soaked them both.

Dream barely noticed, too focused on the overwhelming euphoria of George’s tight hole taking him so well.

George whined his name, begging him to go harder and faster, which Dream did with a single-minded intensity. The only thing he was thinking about now was making his little rabbit come.

“Close,” George gasped as if he was the mind reader and not Dream.

The water was interfering so with an impatient thought, the two of them rose into the air. Laying George down on a bed of shadows, Dream pistoned inside of him, his teeth bared in a silent snarl as he held his own release back with sheer determination alone.

George had to be first.

Underneath him, George writhed, panting and giving stuttered little cries, thighs twitching with every thrust, his hands now tearing at his own hair, his skin glowing with light.

Light and shadows. What a match they made.

He used his shadows to hold George still so that he could wrap a hand around George’s cock, which was an angry red from the way Dream had edged him.

The first touch made George sob and Dream grinned, spreading the precome leaking messily from the tip of his cock and smoothing it down, jacking him in time with his thrusts, paying special attention to the sensitive underside just below his head.

It was exactly what George needed. Within moments, he was arching up, his entire body tensing up as his cock erupted, twitching with spurt after spurt of come. The bulk of it hit Dream’s chest and stomach, but he barely noticed, groaning as he released into George’s convulsing ass which held him like a vice, massaging him and milking his length dry.

Shuddering, Dream almost lost control of his shadows. He had to bring them to the ground before-

“Dream, what-?”

Light and heat exploded from George’s hands, sending them both spinning. George cried out, but Dream held him firmly to his chest, protecting him and bringing him safely to the forest floor.

“Ground it, George,” he commanded, wincing as the energy coming from the human buffeted him. He eased out of the human, who fell to his knees before Dream, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Dream gritted his teeth. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

Leaning down, he grasped George’s hands, bringing them to the ground.

The forest roared.

And life sprang from their hands, racing over the carpet of moss and fallen leaves and grass, flowers springing up from every crevasse, the trees around them groaning as they swelled with endless boughs of blossoms and fruit.

Out and out, the circle of greenery grew, the shockwave of energy travelling deep through the forest floor into the starving, empty cavern that the glade had become, even spilling out further than Dream could ever have hoped for. George was clearly a strong natural empath.

After what felt like an age, George slumped down and Dream was just able to lift his hands to catch him in time.

He sat back, pulling George to rest against his chest while he took stock of himself and his surroundings. Wonder filled him as he took in the transformation of the once listless glade, now overflowing with life. Already, smaller creatures were venturing into the treetops, chattering away as they exclaimed over the rich bounty before them.

He shook his head, utterly bemused. Clearly his menacing aura that usually sent such creatures skittering from him meant nothing in the face of such a feast.

George nuzzled deeper into his chest and mumbled something, clearly starting to stir, and Dream turned his attention back to him, smoothing his damp hair from his forehead. The cute little ears had disappeared, but he found he didn’t mind it.

“Dream?” George whispered.

“I’m here,” he said gently, smiling as George blinked sleepily up at him. Despite his clear exhaustion, he was still radiant as he smiled back at him.

George pouted his lips and Dream was bending down without thought, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Their kiss was slow and lazy and perfect, and Dream felt his chest swell with emotion, his heart swelling. Nothing had moved him like this in a very, very long time.

“Did it work?” George asked, his lips brushing Dream’s with each movement.

“It worked,” Dream confirmed, rubbing his cheek and pulling back slightly. “You did well.”

George sighed happily. His eyes closed. “You’ll bring me to see it, one day?”

Startled, he murmured his agreement and George snuggled back into his chest.

Dream rested his chin on top of his head, considering.

Dismissing his thoughts for now, he pressed a kiss to the top of George’s head and stood, cradling the human carefully in his arms.

“It’s time to get you back to your body,” he said as George gave a muffled protest where his face was tucked into his chest.

“Don’t want to leave,” he grumbled.

Dream chuckled. “Such a stubborn little rabbit.”

He moved to the edge of the clearing and glanced down, finding George watching him, clearly fighting the weight of his own eyelids.

Tentatively, the human reached up to touch his cheek. “Will you stay with me?”

It surprised him and he stared down at George, dumfounded. “You want me to stay with you?”

George nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly, like the admission embarrassed him. Still, he seemed resolute, if a bit nervous, and so Dream nodded, his heart fluttering.

The smile that George gave him lit him up more surely than their energy had flooded the clearing.

“I’ll see you soon,” Dream promised, leaning down to kiss the promise to his lips. George smiled, and let his eyes close. Dream felt for their connection and gently teased it loose, releasing George from his dream.

A moment later, his arms were empty.

Not even a minute later, a deep shadow filled the area at the end of George’s bed. Dream rose from it, looking down to where George was tangled in soaked sheets, the entire room enveloped in the scents of sex and sweat.

Dreams just could not compare to the real thing.

Gently, he tugged the sheets free from George’s body and slipped into the bed beside him, pulling the human into his arms.

With a sleepy mumble, George rolled into him, his face nuzzling into his neck.

Holding him close, Dream fell into deep thought, stroking a hand absent-mindedly through George’s hair.

Perhaps, it wasn’t just the forest glade that George had brought back to life. For the first time in a long time, he was considering what the future might look like. Hopefully with George at his side.

***

George woke up slowly, feeling warm and sticky. He was on his side with a large body plastered along his back, an arm slung around him and pressed into the centre of his chest in a possessive hold.

He smiled and wriggled impossibly closer, letting his eyes fall shut again.