Chapter Text
When Dream first hears footsteps in the empty, dim warehouse, he’s elated. Staring down at the graying floor for hours, while his hands were helplessly bound to a pole, was the most agonizing experience of his life, not to mention it was the second time this week he’d found himself in such a vulnerable state. So it’s easy to say, he’s quite relieved to know backup had made their way here to free him from these literal shackles.
But his elation dies like the flicker of a candle in the wind when he hears the all-so familiar clicking of heels against the floorboards. Instead of relief, he’s surged with dismay. His eyes remain glued on the floor because the last thing he wants to see is him.
“Aww,” Comes the condescending and airy coo of one of the best detectives in the New York Cybercrime division. Dream irks and his hands pull at the crackling metal chaining his wrists together for the feigning hope that they make break apart before he has to take his help.
“All tied up, are we? Thought someone was too smart for the Sanguine mafia’s cheap tricks.” The accented voice continues.
“The ropes they purchased from the bay black markets are coded to wrap around you and bind you.” Dream mutters with his head hung low, his blond hair covering his eyes which are shut from the mild humiliation of having to be rescued. “S’not my fault.”
“Of course it isn’t. It’s not your fault you were too stupid to recognize their plan.”
“Fuck off.” Dream finally snaps his eyes up and meets with daring brown ones.
George stands above him holding the mechanism in his hands that can help free Dream of such ropes. He’s clad in his tight blue and black Kevlar suit which fits him absolutely snug. It’s usually what he wears when he’s out for missions, along with his black boots which hug his calves and come right below his knees. His goggles rest on his hair and he has a smug smile on his face which Dream wants to knock out.
“I wouldn’t recommend you use that kind of language around me, Dream. I’m the only one who can get you out of here.” George says with a tilt, before raking his eyes down his figure. Dream’s on the floor, legs spread, hands bound tightly behind him. Dressed in his black and green body shirt and trousers which sag. He’s not as flexible as George is, so his clothes don’t need to fit him so tightly. Sometimes he thinks George’s clothes fit him a little too tight.
“Then stop staring and cut these fucking ropes off my wrists.” Dream mutters, to which George hums, bringing his fingers up to his chin in a way that is so pretentious that George should be glad Dream’s tied up, otherwise he might’ve punched him.
“But where’s the fun in that? ” George says, before stepping towards him, his foot placing between Dream’s parted legs. “You’ve been a little cocky, mister. You could use a little humbling.”
Dream’s face contorts, eyebrow twitching ever so slightly. “George— look, I know we have our differences—“
George starts laughing. “The mighty Dream is going to try to reconcile, is he?”
“—But right now you need to be professional and cut these ropes off so I can get back to the damn office—“
“Professional?” George raises his eyebrow. “Are you talking about professional after what occurred in our mission two weeks ago, Dream?”
And the delight which spreads across George’s face upon seeing Dream’s own sour is nothing but insidious. George is evil, that’s the only way Dream can describe him. He’s a conniving little bitch who’s always been head-to-head with Dream ever since they both realized they're both the best detectives in a city which should only have one.
“Do you remember, Dream?”
“Shut up.”
“What time was it, 2 in the morning?”
“ Shut up. ”
“We were hiding in that space between those walls…”
“ Please, ” Dream grits, jaw so tense it may break. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t fucking bring it up,”
“I’d like to, actually, especially when you’re helpless like this,” George says in a lower voice. “Besides, I quite like when you beg, Dream. Beg some more.”
Dream closes his eyes for a few seconds to calm himself down. “Where’s Sapnap?”
“Sapnap went home. We were both supposed to come to help you but I assured him I could do it myself. Am I not enough for you, Dream?”
“You’re a fucking nuisance is what you are.”
“Such a bad mouth on you.” George’s fingers grab Dream’s wide jaw and his thumb brushes over Dream’s lower lip, making the blond glower. “How did you let those men tie you up like this, Dream? I thought you were s’posed to be the best, ”
Dream ignores the thumb at the corner of his lip and bores his eyes upwards because George’s body is too close to his face and the last thing he needs to do is train his attention on the dip of his waist.
“I told you, it’s inescapable. It’s like these ropes have a mind of their own. It’s engineered by the mafia using technological components taken from the black market–”
“Blah blah blah. Just admit you suck at this.” George says with a murmur, then drops Dream’s face, letting his head fall back against the pole. “I knew I should’ve taken the case. I mean, really, Dream, it was a one-man job. You’ve made me take out time to come get you. A little embarrassing, is it not?”
“Can you shut the fuck up and untie me? I don’t care for your bitchy monologue, George. Do this some other time.”
“Why’re we in such a rush?” George ponders, then looks down Dream’s body again. With a mischievous glint in his eye, his foot drags up the column of Dream’s calf and slowly draws upwards, to his thigh.
“George,” Dream hisses, his shoulders tense and taught.
“What is it?” George asks, the tip of his boot continuing to swim up. “Say it, Dream, would you like me to stop?”
Dream closes his eyes and holds his breath.
“Y’know, it’s rather cute how easy it is to rouse you,” George hums, bringing his foot close to his crotch, up the length of his leg.
“It-it isn’t—“ Dream tries, but his lungs give way for a short exhale as George’s foot presses onto his groin. His eyes flutter shut and he feels, with reddening cheeks, as his lower stomach churns to make his body give itself away. He grows hard under his sole, and his neck burns with humiliation.
“It isn’t?” George asks, and presses down harder, making Dream practically mewl. George grinds circles down onto his cock with a sly smile on his pretty face.
“Look at yourself, all tied up and pathetic under me,” George continues, rubbing his foot down to his aching hard length hidden beneath trousers. “Like a little puppy. A puppy in heat.”
“F-fuck off,” Dream growls, gritting his teeth. “I fu— ah— fucking hate you so much.”
“I’m sure you do,” George cups his face again and brings his thumb to Dream’s lips. Dream doesn’t dare part them and instead stares up with an indignant look on his face. George’s brown hair falls on brown eyes which are nothing if not malicious. “I ought to put you in a collar.”
Dream watches with a heavy breath as George crouches down on his knees in between his parted legs and leans in until his face hovers over Dream’s own. Dream feels, at that moment, like a stupid puppy. His eyes fall to George’s lips and the feeling of George’s hand fondling over his clothed cock makes his head spin. He wants to feel the wet insides of his mouth and bite down so hard he bleeds. He wants to feel his sinfully small waist in his hands and tear apart that tight bodysuit to shreds. He waits. Their breaths mingle.
George giggles. Dream hears the ropes tying his hands cut off with the scissors George brought with him.
Swiftly, George brings himself back and away from the man, standing up with a flutter of his lashes. Dream leans his head back against the pole, neck exposed, and breathes heavily, knowing what’s to come.
“You’re so easy, Dream,” George says in a hushed voice, and all Dream can think about is the strain in his trousers that’ll take an active imagination to wear away. He’s filled with rage— rage that can only be taken out physically. As much as he wants to punt George into space, he wants to grab him down and fuck him into tomorrow.
George turns around and walks away, and the slightest sway of his hips may or may not have been in Dream’s stupid illusioned mind. To leave him in this warehouse hard and aggravated was humiliating enough, but his audible giggle from the door of the warehouse makes it much, much worse. Dream wants to wipe that ridiculous smirk off his pretty face. He wants to see him writhe, disheveled, a mess.
George is agonizing and Dream hates himself for succumbing like a stupid moth to a blazing flame.
—
“Holy shit, dude. That’s like the 7th time he’s blue balled you.” Sapnap says, and it sounds like he’s holding back a laugh. Dream stares into the glass in front of him which showcases all the CCTV cameras from around the city. The screens currently display the alleyways behind every bar in a ten-mile radius from a recent murder he and Sapnap are currently investigating. “I mean— what— he just left you like that?”
“Shut the hell up. This is why I don’t tell you shit.” Dream mutters, before tapping at the glass to enlarge specific video footage of two men in an alleyway.
“I’m asking, man,” Sapnap looks at what Dream enlarged. “That one’s three blocks away from the murder so impossible unless the guy had super speed or something.”
“Always a possibility. Those drugs that cause speed enhancements have been everywhere lately.” Dream says, before tapping out of the screen and going back to looking at numerous little video screens.
“There you two are,” A high and bright voice comes from the doorway and Dream brings his attention to the captain of the precinct, a certain red-eyed man in all black, Bad. “I’m going to need one of you to help in the Sanguine case. Dream, I know you just… had a mishap with them, but I believe you can do it this time! Don’t give up!”
His optimism is often unsettling, but Dream’s gotten used to brushing it off. He crosses his arms clad in a leather jacket.
“I can help. I know more about the case anyway. Sapnap can take the lead on this murder case.” Dream says.
“Great! I love when you guys work things out. There’s just one slight problem…”
Dream’s face sours. “Don’t say it.”
Bad smiles at him sheepishly. “Dream… you can’t work on this case alone anymore after what happened on Friday. This is a really important mission and the only other person who can work with you is—“
“I can take Sapnap. Or Ant. Hell, I’ll take Ranboo.”
“ Dream. This is a direct order, not a suggestion. Unless you want Sapnap to work the Sanguine case.”
Dream irks, looking away in thought. He almost wants to reel in his suggestion and let Sapnap take the case. He can always give him pointers. He honestly rather jump into a pool of magma than willingly work with—
“No one informed me about a group meeting,” George’s annoyingly high voice airs, and his slim figure leans against the doorway, wearing his snug bodysuit. He smiles at the disdained look on Dream’s face. “So I take it you know we have to work on this mission together?’
“What happened on Friday was an anomaly and you know that. I know how to work around it now. The warehouse I bust did belong to Sanguine, I just didn’t expect it to be the one because I got it from such an unreliable lead. Before I could call backup, they threw those fucking ropes at me and tied me to a pole. I don’t need George to fucking babysit me, Bad. I can do this case alone.” Dream snaps, and Bad sighs with his hand against his face.
“He’s not babysitting you, Dream. We both know this mission requires more than one detective. It’s bigger than we thought it was initially. Their usage of black-market traps is unsafe for one man to take on. Don’t be a baby.”
“Yeah, Dream, don’t be a baby,” George says. “We worked so well on that partnered mission two weeks ago. I thought you had the most swell time, didn’t you?”
Dream glances at him and ignores the obvious choice of words. “ George. This case wasn’t meant for you. It requires a bit of thinking, something you’re not used to doing.”
“Oh, because you were thinking so hard when you got tied to a pole?”
“Boys!” Bad claps his hands together, ripping them apart from their intense back-and-forth. “That’s enough. Both of you are acting like children! Behave yourselves. Look at Wilbur and Techno, they’re on equal footing and work so well together. That’s why half our cases go to them. Do you know how much good you two could do for us if you just got along?”
“This isn’t elementary school, Bad. I don’t have to like him.”
“I think you like me quite a lot,” George responds quietly with a grin, and Dream shakes his head, ignoring him.
“Whatever! I’ve had enough of this. I’m leaving. If you misbehave, it’ll reflect badly on your professionalism, remember that.” Bad warns one last time before leaving the room which feels stiffened with tension. George sees him leave and then glances over at Dream.
“Dream, Dream, Dream.” George walks over, looking up at him. “Don’t be a little pissbaby and ruin this important mission for us.”
“I’m not a—“
“Shut up,” George grabs him by his tie and pulls him down to meet him face to face. “I’m serious. This is important, so don’t fuck it up.” George tilts his head up and leans forward to whisper in his ear, hot and hushed. “I know how bad you wish you could grab me and fuck me but those kinds of thoughts should be kept for outside work, okay?”
Dream’s jaw falls and he can barely say a word. George leans back, gives him a once-over, then lets him go.
There’s a few beats of silence until George throws a look at Sapnap, who’s standing there with widened eyes. George smiles sweetly.
“Have fun on the murder case.”
“Thanks,” Sapnap says awkwardly. George turns around and walks out, while Dream’s frozen stiff. Sapnap looks over at him and clears his throat. “What— what did he say—“
“Nothing. Fuck off. I’m going to wash my face.” Dream says and then storms off to the bathroom, leaving Sapnap there, blinking at the mess that took place.
—
2 weeks ago.
They’d been chasing the seller of the illegal chip which had been found in home products to spy on citizens, a clear violation of basic privacy. He’d turned a simple arrest mission into a car chase, one where Dream had both hands on the steering wheel and George had his attention focused on the Toyota they swerved after.
“What the fuck?” George snaps when Dream takes a sharp left. “He went straight, you idiot!”
“He’s going to the warehouse I speculate stores the chips. We can bust out the whole operation. I’m taking a faster route. Call for backup.”
“You speculate? ” George exclaims with an expression of disbelief, to which Dream grips the steering wheel tightly.
“Shut the fuck up and call for backup!”
“Fuck you. Relying on speculations on my mission—“
“Our mission.”
“ My, ” George reiterates sharply before doing as told. He’s awful to work with, Dream thinks, as their car barely fits into a tight alleyway. They near the warehouse when Dream brings the car to a sudden halt.
“Let’s walk, the car won’t make it there.”
“Obviously,” George grumbles, before swinging out of the window of the car, always flexible. He’s physically more apt than anyone Dream’s seen, he can fit into the smallest nooks and do a car chase on foot. He’s small but fast and has years of professional gymnastics training which helped out courteously in this field of detective work where half the criminals had some sort of modifications through drugs and gadgetry.
Dream was quick behind George, keeping his gun loaded and grasped tightly in his hands. They hurried down the alleyway before finding the warehouse— large and ominous— festered with large cars and men holding guns. Fuck, this was a bigger issue than it seemed.
“We can’t go in alone.” Dream whispers to George, who hums, back planted against the wall, holding his gun out. He glances to Dream.
“They might see us if we stay here. I can hear them— they’re speaking in German— and considering navigating the area. Our guy is safely inside and backup won’t be here for another 20 minutes at least,” George says in a hushed voice.
Dream looks around. There’s nothing beside them but trash cans and another thinner alleyway between two buildings practically glued together. The only thing in that gap is the juts of balconies. George opens the trash can like an idiot and the tin clatters, alerting the guards by the not-so-distant warehouse of possible intruders.
“You fucking idiot,” Dream growls, before grabbing George by his side and swiftly inserting their bodies into the tight gap between the buildings, the one which has barely any space in it, but enough darkness to hide them from sight.
“What’re you—“
“Shut the fuck up,” Dream places his hand over George’s mouth, his other hand placed on the wall beside his waist. “They heard us. Stay quiet.” He whispers into his ear, and George bites hard on his hand. Dream drops it with a hiss and retracts.
Their bodies are pressed together uncomfortably close, with Dream’s taller frame taking up most of the space. His hands clamp onto the wall in front of him, caging George in, his front pressed flush to George’s back.
It takes a few beats of complete silence assisted with held breaths for Dream to realize what a compromising position he’s put himself in. George is completely pressed against him, to the point where it’s almost dirty how close they are. His thin, tight, spandex suit fits him so, so snug. It hugs all of his curves, especially his plump butt which— fuck— it’s fitted right against Dream’s crotch so cozily that he feels like this was done deliberately to set him up.
The men from the warehouse come to check the place, and George focuses his attention on that. Dream tries to— he really does— but George’s nimble frame fits against his own so fucking well that he begins wondering how easy it would be to tear this stupid suit off his body.
“I swear I heard somethin’,” One of the men, armed with a large black gun, gruffs lowly to the other, who shrugs. They look around for a little longer before leaving, standing at the end of the ally, inhibiting Dream and George from leaving the tight nook they’ve fit themselves into.
George shifts. “This is—“ He begins, before rubbing himself against Dream almost lewdly. It has to be on purpose, but George usually seems clueless to his sensuality, or so Dream thinks. “—too cramped.”
“I know.” Dream whispers. George shuffles some more, trying to leave, but he can’t, and his writhing is useless, so he dissolves into a soft sigh.
He turns his head over his shoulder, his arms folded up to his chest, pressed against the wall. “I can’t move one bit.”
“Just shut up and stay still, they’ll hear us.” Dream hisses, despite knowing the guards hearing them was the least of his concerns at the moment. He could feel heat traveling right down to his groin which was not good. Absolutely not.
Dream was a top-class detective who did what it took most detectives years to do in half the time. He finished his 4 years of detective training in 2, zoomed up the ranks of the precinct in 6 months, and solved more cases than most of the precinct combined.
Yet, here he was, at his weakest, most vulnerable moment, at the hands of one George, who was absolutely going to ruin him.
George was older, though only by a few years, and Dream knew from the second he saw him that he would absolutely despise him. He was titillatingly obnoxious with a high-strung way of doing things and the most peculiar British mannerisms. He was an arrogant, irritating, condescending prick, and yet Dream wanted to fuck the living shit out of him. He wanted to hold him down and tear him apart. He doesn’t know why he thought pressing himself right up against George’s plump ass would be a good idea, but his mind runs white and all he can think from is his dick.
It comes out as a genuine, honest question. George, all pressed up against the wall, raises his head like a cat to sound, and then asks in the gentlest voice: “Are you hard?”
“No.” Dream croaks out, but his head is dropped low and he’s trying his hardest to think of the unsexiest things in the world.
“You’re— you’re fucking—“ George rolls his hips back onto him and Dream grits his jaw. “— oh, you are hard, you are. Right now, when we’re seconds away from men with guns—“
“I know, shut the fuck up. You’re in this tight fucking bodysuit, it’s not my fault.”
George’s hair tickles Dream’s chin and the shorter turns his head up to stare at Dream.
“Do you wanna fuck me right here in the alleyway?”
Dream blinks, his face red and a head full of sand. “Y… Yes?”
George laughs. “Jesus Christ, Dream. This is a new low for you.”
“Fuck off. Just— fuck— move.”
“Move? I’ll die. Either cum in your pants or control yourself like a man. I know I’m irresistible but there’s a time and a place—“
“S-stop fucking grinding against me,” Dream growls, and his hands come down to George’s waist, clamping down, trying to get him to stop rubbing him off so fucking well against the fabric of his pants.
“Why?” George asks in a hot whisper before letting out a surprised gasp at Dream’s hand cupping his crotch and stopping all his movement. “Don’t.”
“I can barely feel anything, how’d you pack it up so tight?” Dream asks against his ear, resisting the urge to lick a stripe in his pale skin. George suddenly elbows him in the side of his ribs and makes him drop his hand.
The device hooked against his hip beeps. “Backups here,” George says, before squeezing against Dream tightly to escape from the cramped gap. Dream grunts lowly and then falls against the wall, looking up at the sky.
“Are you going to need a minute?”
“Fuck off.”
“Take two. I’ll handle this.” George says with a cocky flare before turning around and walking away. Dream wants to crawl into a hole and die.
—
Present.
Despite their differences, when they want to, they actually work quite well together. George’s natural attention to detail goes quite well with Dream’s observational memory. They’re a good team— everyone would agree— when they’re not constantly bickering.
Which they are.
“They leave no trace. There’s nothing on cameras and no fingerprints found anywhere,” Dream crouches down on the floor, brushing his finger over the dusty floorboards of the warehouse they’re in— the one Dream found on Friday which had been a manufacturing plant for those sturdy ropes. They’d been selling them to other gangs and mafias to use against people like Dream.
“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough.” George butts, and walks past Dream and towards the machines. Dream scoffs to himself.
“We’ve had our people keep eyes on every camera in the city for the past week, George. Don’t come into this case pretending to know it all.”
“I’m not pretending,” George looks at him with a slight tilt of his head. “Seriously, I’m beginning to think you’re a newbie.”
“What?”
“Do you not recognize this warehouse? It was used by the Blue Cobra gang whose leaders I busted last year. Word on the street is that they’re back in action under new leadership. They used to have mechanisms that erased their footprints, I remember how hard that mission was.” George puts his hand to his chin, deep in thought.
“So, what’re you insinuating?”
“That the Sanguine and Blue Cobra gangs must have merged operations. We may still have men working undercover with the downtown gangs who can get us information. Use your brain, Dream. I thought you were meant to be some sort of genius. ”
Dream goes quiet thinking. The lack of machinery in this factory points to George’s theory, however, it would mean that they’ll need stronger forces and technological advantages to bust them out.
His lack of silence is taken as defeat. George scoffs.
“No need to get all shy around me, Dream. I miss when you were a cocky dickhead. Do I make you nervous?”
“Y’know, George,” Dream says, looking down at him with an unamused expression. “For someone who raves about professionalism, you sure can’t go 2 minutes without being a bitch.”
“Only to you, darling. Can we go now? This place is useless.”
“We should still check it out—“
“There’s nothing here, Dream. The police already checked it. Don’t look for a way to get the high ground on me. Admit it— I’m better than you and cracked this stupid case before you could.”
“Fuck’s sake, George. Are your little feet too tired to walk anymore? Do you want to get carried out of the factory?” Dream tilts his head, and George’s face sours. “Some of us do all the work and don’t just take the easy way out. Go sit in the car if you have to. I’ll finish checking the place. I don’t trust the police to do our jobs.” Dream mutters, turning back around and flashing the torchlight towards the empty walls.
George rolls his eyes behind him. “Fancy talk coming from the man who couldn’t even solve his own case.”
“Fuck off and shut up.”
“I will. I’m waiting in the car and putting my feet up on your dashboard.”
“Fuck you.”
“You wish you could.” He replies snarkily, flipping him off while walking away. Dream rolls his eyes and tenses his jaw to not let his anger overcome him. Ignoring the pest that is George, Dream continues to search the factory thoroughly, ensuring every spot is checked for any lasting clues.
And, much to his dismay, there’s none. George was right after all. But still, better safe than sorry.
Not in George’s perspective. He laughs, reclined back on the passenger seat of Dream’s Mercedes, feet propped up on the dashboard like he owns the car. He rolls his lips around a lollipop as Dream sits on the driver’s seat.
“Told you so,” George sings obnoxiously, and Dream sighs to himself.
“I’m not mad,” He lies through his teeth as he revs the engine. “I rather have spent two more hours looking through that place if it meant I didn’t miss anything.”
“ Yeah yeah. You waste time. That’s a bad trait.”
“And you’re negligent.” Dream looks at his stupid booted feet and scorns. “Get your feet off my dashboard.”
George throws over a glance, one hand on the back of the seat, the other holding the thin white stick of the pink lollipop which bobs between his lips. He pulls away, lips glossy and damp from sucking.
“Or what?”
The blond tears his eyes away because George is nothing less than obscene in the way he kitten licks the lollipop with enlarged brown eyes, knowing just the effect he has on the man. In many ways, it’s Dream’s own flaws that let him be prey to George’s antics. He’s too obvious. His body gives way to his deepest, darkest desires before he has a chance to contemplate them. The way he looks at George with hazed eyes is no secret. George knows this, and he toys with it like the evil minx he is.
“Or I won’t drive you back. So unless you want to walk 5 blocks, get your filthy feet down and behave yourself.”
“Behave myself?” George dares, and Dream internally curses himself for his choice in language, knowing George is going to use it as leverage. “Are you going to punish me? Take me over your lap and spank me red?”
Dream snaps his eyes to him, for once unfaltering. “I might just have to if you keep acting like such a brat .”
“Alright,” George airs softly, looking a bit taken aback by Dream’s words. He stares at the blond man for a good few seconds before retracting his feet off the dashboard, pulling them up to his chest on the seat.“Sorry, daddy.”
George is comfortable like this, frequently sitting in various positions due to his shorter stature, often with his legs over the sides of chairs or folded up to his chest. He’s very flexible, Dream knows. One day he’d like to test just how flexible.
Dream starts driving fast almost instantly, giving no time for George to adjust. But the older doesn’t mind and instead throws his head against the car seat and smiles at the rush of the car whizzing through traffic.
When they reach the precinct, Bad asks Dream to fill in on what took place, since he’s the head of this case. George, however, puts his hand up to Dream’s chest and pats him like he’s a child.
“Let me explain. The Sanguine gang is in arms with Blue Cobra. This warehouse was probably a ruse to attract Dream while they moved their men from the warehouse we found weeks ago to another one downtown. But, Bad, you can’t blame Dream for it. It’s like when you give a puppy a treat. It jumps to it instantly without thinking.” George says and then looks up at Dream. “That’s why puppies need training. ”
Dream holds back a string of curses involving George’s mother and instead focuses his darkened eyes on Bad, who looks a bit skeptical, an awkward peacemaker smile on his face.
“Bad, can I speak with you privately? The second in command isn’t exactly needed in this part of the process.”
“Not if the second in command cracked the whole case.”
“With all due respect, George– this isn’t your case. It was mine to begin with. Your help was appreciated, but you’re done here. You can’t just take over my case.”
“With all due respect, Dream, you’re an idiot and I deserve this case more than you do.”
“ Gentlemen, let’s behave ourselves. You are still speaking to your Captain.” Bad says with his stern voice which comes often when speaking to these two. “George, when you say downtown, do you mean at the place you busted last year? Is that why there’s no trace of Sanguine?”
“How fascinating, you too solved it in under a minute like me. Dream here needed a bit of a push.”
“You are so fucking irritating. You two worked together on that case for months, of course you know it better than me.”
“Then shut up and let the grownups talk,” George warns, eyes flaring in genuine indignation. “With how poorly you assessed your mission last week it’s a wonder you even get to lead this case.”
“For the last time, the ropes were an unpredicted anomaly. You couldn't have dealt with it any better than I did.”
“Yes, I could.” George brushes aside arrogantly. “Everyone here knows the case should’ve been handed to me.”
“Boys–” Bad tries, but Dream cuts him off.
“Everythings handed to you, isn’t it? Not all of us have fathers who run the detective force academy, George. We all know why you graduated as early as you did.”
“That’s enough!” Bad shouts, startling both of them to turn their heads and meet his eyes. He has a scowl on his face and pushes his glasses up on his hair. “I’m sick of you two bickering constantly. I don’t care about your differences, the least you can do in the workplace is be mature. ”
A small silence falls. Some of the other detectives sitting outside Bad’s office look through the glass window, hearing the tumult. Dream and George’s shoulders droop and they look away, controlling themselves.
“Dream,” Bad begins. “I know this was your mission, but George is right.”
“What?!” Dream snaps and George lets out a giggle.
Bad sighs. “You may be leading this case, but George is as much of a lead as you are now with this discovery. Let him talk.”
“Whatever. George can do all the talking he wants. I’ll finish the report and send it to you by tonight.” Dream mutters, heading out of the office. Bad drags his hands down his face but George shakes his head.
“Let the sore loser leave, Bad. We’ll get better work done while he’s throwing his little tantrum in the kitchen.”
Dream doesn’t care for his parting words as he exits the office and beelines for the kitchen. He doesn’t go there to throw temper tantrums. He just gets really riled up sometimes and feels hot from anger and needs to stand against the cool fridge with a can of cold coffee in his palm to calm himself down.
The moment he enters the small kitchen of the precinct, the youngest junior detective, Ranboo, walks right out with a terrified expression on his face. Dream ignores him and cools down in front of the open fridge, sipping down cheap watery coffee like it’s medicine. He can’t get George’s condescending smirk out of his face. He wants to punch him at least once, he really does.
The door of the kitchen opens and Dream recognizes the tapping of heels against marbled flooring anywhere. He closes the fridge door before he can speak and crushes the empty can in his hand, chucking it in the bin.
“Are you done? Have you put your big boy pants on yet?”
Dream turns and looks at George, who’s standing in the doorway with an amused expression on his face. Dream’s lack of response urges George to keep speaking.
“The case is mine now.” George starts. Dream’s expression angers quickly so before he can interject, George continues. “We’re working with Blue Cobra downtown and I’m more familiar with them. Bad wasn’t hard to convince; what, with your dirt-poor performance at last week’s mission–”
“That’s not fair, George. You weren’t there. Bad lets you get away with everything, for fuck’s sake.”
George steps closer to him. “You know, the behavior you’ve been exhibiting recently isn’t quite up to my standards, Dream. Since I’m leading the mission on Friday, I’ve decided to do it alone.”
“You are fucking insufferable. That’s not allowed.” Dream mutters, not meeting his eyes. George hums, smiling.
“Aw, what’re you going to do about it? Cry? Don’t worry, you poor pup. You’re still young. Some cases just require a bit more… experience, y’know?” George tilts his head and smiles. Dream shakes his head, already having a speech prepared in his mind to give to Bad. “No hard feelings. It’s nothing personal. You just suck at this and I’m far better than you.”
George blows him a kiss before leaving. Dream kicks over the trashcan.
–
“Heyyy buddy,” Sapnap says with pitying eyes and a warm smile when Dream comes into work on Friday. “You doing good? Need some coffee? Maybe a massage?”
“Don’t speak to me like that,” Dream mutters, shrugging off his leather jacket. He looks around the office. Nobody meets his eyes. “It’s not that fucking bad, it’s not like I was demoted. ”
“It kind of is. Not literally, but losing the lead in a case is kind of like a demotion if you think about it.” Ranboo states from the water cooler. Dream stares at him with death in his eyes and Ranboo squeaks. “I-I mean, um– it’s nothing like a demotion! I-I don’t even know what I’m saying. You can have all my cases if you w-want.”
“Jesus, leave the poor kid alone.” Sapnap sighs and Dream looks away. Behind them, Ranboo scurries away. “Yeah, you weren’t demoted, but it has to be a little embarrassing.”
“Please rub it in my face more.” Dream says, sitting down on his chair. “I know it sucks. Just means I’ll have to work harder, I guess.”
“Yeah…. Harder…” Sapnap looks around and then breathes out. “George is a bitch for doing that to you, though. I mean, sure, he knows more about Blue Cobra, but why didn’t he work with you? You accommodated him for your mission. If he did that to me I’d slash the tires of his stupid car.”
“I’m not that petty,” Dream chuckles as he opens up his screen, information displaying onto the thin glass in front of him. He leans back and bites on the end of his pen. “He’s just annoying like that, I have to get used to it.”
“Do you? Someone needs to put him in his place.” Sapnap says, and Dream hums, getting lost in thought for a split second before gaining his consciousness and getting back to work.
After a full day of work, consisting of all the boring aspects of being a detective such as endless paperwork and filing reports, Dream sees day settle into evening and looks forward to unwinding at a bar with one too many beers. People have been giving him pitying smiles and reassuring pats on the back all day. Somehow, that is more irritating than actually losing a case. He doesn’t meet Bad in the eyes throughout the day because he is a little petty.
There are 5 minutes left on the clock and everyone’s packing their things away to retire for the weekend. Sapnap’s raving about this new bar he found nearby and Dream’s keen to go along with him. Anything to take his mind off the awful day he’s had. He stretches his arms up and is about to start packing as well when Bad rushes into the main office.
“There’s a problem,” He begins, a worried expression on his face. Everyone alerts and looks in his direction. “It’s George. He seems to have been trapped with the same ropes they used on Dream. He needs backup.”
And the laugh which rips out of Dream’s lungs can only be described as manic.
It’s unlike his usual heavy-hearted wheezes or low chuckles, it’s a witchy cackle, with his hands balled up and pumped in celebration. Everyone looks at him and all he can do is laugh.
“Dream,” Bad says in a nervous warning tone, knowing that the roaring laughter cannot be a good thing. Dream shakes his head.
Amidst laughs, he stands up, grabs his leather jacket, grabs his keys, and looks at Bad.
“Give me the location and the scissors.”
“Dream, I’m pretty sure he rather Sapnap or Alex or Ant go help–”
Dream laughs harder. “Fuck no. I’m going, and I’m going alone.” He says. Ant chucks him the gadget which helps in tearing away the ropes and Dream grabs it with his off-hand. His laugh can be heard as he leaves the building.
The drive downtown is with his windows rolled down, music blasting, singing along like it’s his wedding night. He may never feel such elation ever again in his life, honestly. George needs help on his mission. Incredible. Weeks of being mocked and ridiculed by the tiny British man will come back to bite him in the ass.
He hums the song under his breath as he enters the empty warehouse which has car tracks indicating the presence of certain mafia members. Dream clicks his foot against the floors and even does a little spin, the beat of the funky pop song fresh on his mind.
It’s absolutely silent, no voice heard except the clicks of his feet, which echoes through the warehouse. His grin turns into a wicked smirk when he sees his figure. George is on the floor, laying with his face planted against the dusty marble.
George is completely wrapped in the rope, long and black, and circling him. It’s around his shoulders, his waist, his thighs, and his feet. Even his arms are strapped tightly behind him. Like a coiled spring around his small frame, squeezing down on his flesh. It’s fucking hilarious, actually, because unlike Dream, who’d just had his hands bound, George can’t even move an inch.
Dream sighs deeply and then emits a chuckle, taking in George’s body, which lay limp and bound on the floor. Maybe if he was a better person, he’d cut the ropes binding his body. He’d be the bigger man and ask if he’s okay. He’d soothe the humiliation of failing a solo mission and be a good partner. He’d be mature. He’d be professional.
But, alas, he’s neither of those things. So instead, he smirks like an asshole and watches as George’s body twitches helplessly on the ground as if trying to wriggle out.
“Well, well, well,” Dream says with a beat. “All tied up, are we?”
George stiffens, and then squirms his hips, completely unable to move. He turns his head on the floor to see Dream. His eyes are all big and watery and there’s a rope between his lips, keeping him sealed shut.
“What was it you said?” Dream stands over him, looking down with glaring cockiness, one he’s earned. “You’re too smart to be trapped? Too good to need a partner? That I suck and you’re better than me?”
George doesn’t respond, just stares at Dream’s feet, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.
“What’s the excuse, Georgie? You knew about the ropes this time too, yet still. ” Dream crouches down, wanting to not only rub it in but smother him with it. He wants to make him fucking eat it. He takes his hand forward to stray a falling strand of hair out of George’s brown eyes. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I have the experience to help you out.”
“I mean, I only had my hands tied. This… what the fuck did you even do?” Dream looks down his body. George squirms against the floor again, as if begging to be released. When Dream doesn’t jump to it, George looks up, finally meeting Dream’s eyes. His cheeks, slowly but surely, flood to a bright red and he blinks his eyes excessively.
“ Gah, I really do wish I could help you, George. But I’m just a puppy without training, aren’t I?”
George whines through his rope, ironically– like a puppy, and Dream snickers. “What? You’ve been a little bitch to me for weeks, George. Maybe you deserve this.”
At that, George looks at him with his big brown eyes and blinks his long lashes, causing teardrops to develop on his lash line. He whimpers through the rope and squirms his hips some more as a single tear rolls down his cheek.
Dream almost scoffs. “Oh, come on. You don’t think I, of all people, will fall for your fake crying, do you?” Dream says gratingly, moving George’s hair out of his face. George continues sniffling and tearing up, looking cute and red-cheeked. “You can fake the cute boy attitude to somebody else to get what you want, George. It won’t work on me.”
His eyes glow like moons in the night sky and Dream thinks he’s stupid for falling for it, but he’s cute, he always has been, and Dream likes this sort of control over the man. He rolls his eyes and takes out the cutting gizmo from his pocket.
“Fine, fine, Jesus. Stop fake crying, you brat.” Dream says, and almost at once, George’s tears cease, and he sniffles blankly, eyes big in anticipation. Dream reaches for the rope on George’s shoulder and falters momentarily upon noticing how the suit beneath the rope has torn and stuck onto the bind.
The rope presses into his kevlar suit, dipping into his body and showing the indents of his body against the rope. There’s a string of rope strapped over his ass and thighs, squeezing in him tight. It must hurt at least a little. Seeing the rope strapped over George’s ass like that sparks a reminder in Dream’s head.
“You know the rope burns through the kevlar, right? It dissolved the fabric on my sleeves.” Dream says lowly, and George stiffens. He holds back a laugh as he says: “Fuck, it’s going to tear through your whole fucking suit, George. Don’t you just wear those thin panties under this?”
George muffles something against the rope which sounds like an interjection to the panties thing, but frankly, that seems to be the least of his concerns. He’s going to be in nothing. Completely bare. This felt like revenge from the gods for all the cocky talk he did to Dream– and god did he talk. So, so much. He got ahead of himself. Overconfident. Out of control.
Here Dream was, seemingly the only thing that could put him in his place.
“Poor thing,” Dream says. “You want me to cut you out, don’t you?”
George nods meekly, and Dream grins. It’s fun having George like this. Dream wants to take it on for longer, see just how badly he can screw with George to ensure he never fucks with him again. But, all said and done, he’s not a complete asshole. He’s still human, and George looking at him like that through wet lashes could twist even the devil’s heart. Dream brings the gadget back and slices it through the rope between George’s lips.
The moment it cuts and falls, George spits. “You fucking asshole!”
“There it is,” Dream sighs, standing up. George sits up, seemingly being able to do so this whole time, and writhes against his bounds.
“Let me–” he presses his arms against the rope to little avail. “–out, you sadistic freak! I’ve been tied here for god knows how long and here you come with your godforsaken monologue and I have to sit here and fucking fake cry for you to even give a shit–”
“A taste of your own medicine.”
“Fuck you!”
“George, do you really want to be pissing off the person who’s your only chance at getting out?” Dream asks, cocking his eyebrow, losing the amused expression on his face. George scorns. “Don’t be such a brat. You did this to yourself, now deal with the consequences.”
George grits his teeth. “These kinds of things don’t work on me, Dream. You’re the loser here whose dick throbs at the sight of me, I’m not . Let me out or I’ll tell the whole office you got a boner during a mission. Alex and Karl will eat you alive. ”
“What’s this?” Dream inquires aloud as he crouches in front of him again to grab his chin in his hands. George stares at him with beaded eyes as Dream tilts his head. “You’re pretending like you don’t want me to fuck you until you can’t walk a step?”
George shakes his head. “I don’t.”
“Really?” Dream leans in, and George’s nose wrinkles as his eyes train down to Dream’s lips. “ Really, George?”
“Really.” He mumbles, tearing his eyes back up and blinking hard, keeping his focus.
Dream chuckles. “So, that night 6 months ago, George. Are we pretending it never happened?”
George’s face falls for half a second before he regains his composure and shakes his head. “W-what?”
“6 months ago,” And it’s clear in Dream’s mind, the blurred memory of the empty bar and sound of clicking heels. “We finished that mission in Brooklyn,” Dream’s breath ghosts over George’s skin, hushed and low into his ear. “Just the two of us sitting at that bar.”
“I was drunk.” George quips.
“You had half a beer,”
“I was tipsy. ”
“I’ve seen you drink a bottle and not break a sweat.” Dream turns his cheek to meet him in the eyes. “Tell me why?”
George looks at him, for once, his cool composure breaking into one of genuine vulnerability. His eyes are enlarged and his jaw quivers. As much as he pretends, the memory is as clear in his mind as it is in Dream’s.
How could he forget? The smell of rum, the sight of a short red dress. Seeing that girl from the precinct in Brooklyn get a little too handsy and fall onto Dream’s side. Seeing Dream entertain her and compliment her pretty smile and stunning dress. How George had sat in front of them the whole night without receiving a shred of attention, growing angrier by the second, unable to finish his shitty beer, wondering why it bothered him so much that Dream looked at her like he wanted to devour her.
6 months ago, on a hazy night, George had seen a pretty girl with bright red lipstick smear it over Dream’s earlobes and gone crazy. He’d waited for her to leave after the heavy insinuation of being alone in her hotel room before losing any dignity he had.
“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Dream had asked with a lazy smile, leaned back on the booth chair.
George proceeded to get up, climb onto the table separating them, hurl himself onto Dream’s lap, grab him by his strong jaw, and kiss him with the might of a thousand suns.
Dream had been utterly perplexed though his hands fell on George’s waist like he’d been wanting to do this for years. His lips kissed back with a fury, endlessly holding on till its end. George tilted his head and let Dream fuck his mouth with his tongue until his vision blurred.
When George pulled away, it had been with a heavy breath and a damning realization of what he just did. Dream’s eyes were widened.
“W-what?” Dream whispered. “...George?”
“I’m drunk.” George spluttered, then got off Dream’s lap, stumbling out. “I’m going to my hotel room.”
“Oh...okay.”
George took two steps before turning around. “Don’t fuck her.”
“What?”
“Don’t. Fuck. Her.”
Dream blinked. “Okay. I won’t.” He then hesitated before asking. “Can– can I come to your room?”
George didn’t even stop to think. “No.”
And the next morning when Dream met him outside his hotel room with two cups of coffee and a neck clear of hickies, he didn’t mention it. George most definitely didn’t either. They didn’t meet eyes for the next week and then settled back into their cat-and-dog dynamic as if nothing had shifted.
“If I’m getting things correct here,” Dream whispers. “You kissed me out of nowhere and told me not to have sex with a woman and yet… I’m the one who wants you?”
George’s face sours. Dream grins.
“S-so, what?” George snaps, cheeks turning redder by the second. “You-you’re just going to leave me here?”
“Of course not. I’d never leave the one leading our case behind. You’re better than me, aren’t you? You should be able to get out on your own!”
George closes his eyes. “Dreeeeeam,” He whines high and long, and Dream scoffs.
“Don’t whine, George. If anything, you deserve this. You’ve been acting bitchy to me for weeks and I didn’t forget what you did to me when I was tied up. So no, I’m not going to cut you free and let you run your merry way.”
“That’s not fair! I didn’t mean to be bitchy, Dream. You’re punishing me for something which isn’t even my fault!” He whines harder, and Dream pinches the bridge of his nose. He hears George cry his name again and looks at him with a stern gaze.
“Shut the fuck up before I shove that rope between your lips again.” Dream mutters, and George stops mid whine with a slightly taken aback look in his eyes. Dream stands up then, towering over him, content with the silence he’s met with.
“Praise me. For 5 minutes.”
George looks up in disbelief. “What?”
“I said praise me. Or you can continue whining, though it won’t get you anywhere. It’s like music to my ears.”
“I can’t praise you for 5 whole minutes, you arrogant asshole! I can’t even praise myself for that long. How full of yourself are you?!”
“Pretty full of myself, I’d say. I’m a Leo, y’know.” Dream sees him roll his eyes. “Praise me, George. Don’t make this harder for yourself. If you’re good I’ll buy you a lollipop.”
George looks away and sucks on his bottom lip for a second before giving in. “Strawberry flavored?”
“Yup.”
“ Fine. Dream,” George looks down on the ground at his feet, and Dream whistles and starts a timer on his watch. “You…. you graduated earlier than I did and you’re one of the youngest cyber detectives. You’re... “ George holds in for a few seconds before spluttering. “ Good. You’re good at this, I suppose. Somewhat. You’re tall.”
Dream cocks his eyebrow at his pause. “Continue.”
“I can’t think of anything else. There’s not a lot to praise about you.”
The blond gets back down on the ground in front of him. “I’ll give you a suggestion. How about the fact that I’m a good kisser?”
George’s eyes waver. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Or maybe I’m so tempting that you couldn’t even let me sleep with a woman I liked,”
There’s a beat of silence before George meets his eyes, conscious and nervous. “I just didn’t want you to fuck someone who wasn’t me while I was there,” George whispers, and Dream almost loses himself. “Is that so bad?”
All Dream can do is grip George’s sides and steer him in closer. “Tell me I’m a good kisser or I’ll have to prove it,”
“You’re a horrible, horrible kisser.” George remarks sharply, and then tilts his head back eagerly as Dream leans forward to press their lips together. He kisses the older on his plush, pink lips for several seconds before pulling away.
“Disgusting. You’re so bad.” George says with a whine stuck in the back of his throat, leaning into him. Dream snickers lightly and kisses him again, cupping his jaw. They nip at each other and push and pull, not letting either win at dominance. Dream moves back and kisses his neck.
He slices off the rope at George’s stomach. “Keep praising me.”
“You’re so tall.” George says, and he sounds weak. “So, so tall and big. Like you could pick me and throw me to the other side of a room.”
Dream nips at his exposed collarbone and snips off the ropes at his chest. “Mhm?”
“You’re so smart,” George gasps when Dream sinks his teeth into his neck and cuts off a rope at the same time. “You f-figure things out so quick and you’re so good at everything you do. It pisses me off.”
“Does it?” Dream retracts from his neck where he’s left some reddened spots and looks at him face to face.
George nods. “Yeah. Makes me happy to see you suck sometimes. I wish you’d never joined here. I wish I could be the best on my own ‘cause- ‘cause I’m so selfish, Dream. I want all the attention for myself. Even yours. I don’t like when you fuck other women and I like when you get hard for me because it makes you pathetic. I want you but I don’t wanna fuck you ‘cause that makes you want me more. I’m–I’m a selfish brat.”
“Self aware.” Dream whispers, and George sniffles, tearing his eyes away from his green ones. “Why’re you telling me this?”
George’s nose wrinkles. “Dunno. Maybe I just like riling you up. See how far it gets before you put your foot down and–” George falters to a stop when Dream leans into him, his eyes focusing down onto Dream. “–put me in my place.”
“Y’know,” Dream cuts off the ties around George’s shoulders and sees the man ease them from being stiff. “If I was a dickhead I’d leave you untied and unfucked.”
“You’re no such thing.” George clamers, biting on his lip. “Right?”
“Don’t know. I still don’t think you deserve shit from me. I’ve been counting. We’ve been in this precinct for 3 years and you’ve blue balled me 8 times total.”
“Dream– my hands,” George whines, reminding the other of his wrists bound tightly behind him.
“Those stay, George.” Dream says, eyeing his chest. “Your suit’s falling apart.”
“I have multiple of these,” George looks down and sees the garment torn where the rope lay over it, completely dissolved into nothing. The blades of his shoulders peak and so do his chest and stomach. “You wouldn’t happen to have extra clothing in your car, would you?”
“Sure. A lot of the girls I fuck end up needing somethin’ extra.”
George sneers. “Shut up.”
“Does that piss you off?”
“You know it does.” George mutters, and then startles when Dream suddenly cuts off the rope at his waist. “At least tell me first! God, you’re so irritating and brash, you do things without thinking, you’re like a big dog who doesn’t–”
Dream grabs a fallen rope and stuffs it between George’s empty lips. George could spit it out but instead blinks his brown eyes, staring anticipatingly at Dream.
“Behave.” He states with a certain tone which makes George’s skin prickle. Dream moves him around so his back faces him, manhandling him with ease.
George exhales through his nose and tips his head forwards to the wall he’s against, sticking his ass out more, back arched. Dream cuts off the ties binding his thighs and knees, and then back up to the binds around his hips and ass. All that’s remaining is the ropes tying his feet together and hands together, but it doesn’t seem like Dream’s going to remove them anytime soon.
The garment on George’s body is fickle and torn, completely falling apart, as if it’s been sliced numerous times. Some of it falls right off, while some sticks to his skin.
George looks down at his body and then back up at Dream, who peels off the kevlar remaining on his skin, especially the ones stuck to his ass. George lets him, and then squeaks loudly when Dream spanks him on his bare cheeks.
He pulls the rope out of George’s mouth. “Every time I spank you, I want you to tell me what you did wrong.”
“D-Dream–”
“It’s not a suggestion, it’s an order.” He says before smacking him harshly over his asscheeks. His face is pressed against the wall now and his hands twitch to grab something. He receives another spank before his brain starts functioning.
“Ahh– I-I shouldn’t have gone alone.”
“Good.” Dream follows with another harsh slap to his flesh, seeing pale mounds turn a freckling red. It spreads like a bush. The dip of George’s small waist enunciates his ass, and Dream holds back from doing worse things to it, things he’s wanted to do for years. How it feels in his hand, how it’d feel pounding into. Dream’s thought of George in ways more incriminating than he’d like to admit.
“I shouldn’t have said I was be-better than you.”
Spank.
“I should’ve–” George shuffles on his knees, spreading them further apart, tempting. “I-I should’ve worked with you and–”
Dream spanks him harder this time and hears him cry out.
“Ow! I–I shouldn’t have taken your case and then kicked you off it. M’sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Dream grabs his hips and presses himself against his soft back, feeling his bare skin against his clothed crotch. George squirms against Dream’s groin and turns to look at him.
“It’s just funny to hear you talk all that talk and then end up here, begging for my dick.” Dream says with his hand palming over reddened skin.
“N-not begging.”
“Well, you will be.” Dream falls his lips down on the open junction between his neck and shoulder and smacks him on the ass again, not to hear a response, just to hear the pathetic whimper that leaves his lips.
His ass, spanked a rosy red, pushes back against Dream to feel something. The younger rummages through the pocket of his leather jacket to take out packets of lube he carried with certain knowledge something like this would happen.
“Shouldn’t take too long, right? You probably won’t last more than 3 minutes,” George exhales. Dream slicks up his fingers.
“Won’t take long ‘cause you probably don’t require prep with how many men you let fuck you.” He mutters before pressing into the boy’s soft pink entrance, hairless and waiting.
While settling into him, Dream snickers. “Bet this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten fucked after failing a mission,”
“No, it’s routine. But Wilbur was much nicer than you.”
Dream feels something overcome him and dips another finger in. “Fuck off,” Dream finds himself cursing before he can contain his avid jealousy. “Don’t even joke about that.”
George throws a smile over his shoulder. “I guess you don’t want others fucking me either.”
“I guess not.” He says under his breath, before rolling deeper into him and hearing him shudder lowly, his shoulders tense. George shuffles his weight on his knees before arching his back a bit more, expecting.
“God, you want this so fucking bad. You were probably hoping I’d show up and see you tied up like the rope bunny you are,”
“N-no,” George stirs his hips on his fingers. “Just– god– fuck me already, you’re taking forever.”
“You won’t be the one giving orders, George,” Dream smacks his ass with his free hand and grasps it under his palm, making George hitch a breath. “Know your fucking place. This isn’t a reward, it’s punishment.”
He pulls his fingers out of him and travels it to George’s crotch to squeeze his hard cock. George bucks into him.
“Y’know, after all the times you’ve blue-balled me, I might not even fuck you. Just leave you hard and loose and tied for some other man to come in and take you instead. You’d probably let anyone use you like a fucking sock.”
“Don’t, please. Need it to be you.” George cries throatily before laying forwards and pressing his cheek and chest to the ground, ass up in the air in front of Dream, presenting and needy.
“Jesus, look at you. Number 1 detective, huh?” Dream bumps his lubed cock against his open entrance, his hole greedily waiting for him. “Lead of the case, best in the precinct,”
George gasps when Dream thrusts into him, his head pushing into the soft rim.
“What is it you called me–” Dream pauses as he deepens into him, his own furious urges nipping away at him to just take him as fast as he can. “–in the car the other day?”
“Daddy,” George muffles. Dream sinks fingers into the smooth skin of George’s waist and grins smugly.
“I like that.” He finally settles into him and hears George whimper beneath him, holding back moans. “Don’t be quiet, George. Use your mouth. You’re always talkin’ shit from it anyway.”
George moans helplessly as Dream begins fucking into him at a pace, his hips rocking against his ass, the sound of skin against skin echoing around them. George’s moans become rhythmic too, erupting at every pounding he gets, like a broken record.
It settles in Dream gradually that he’s finally fucking George, and it’s like this. He always knew it would happen, in fact he presumed it’d happen earlier, but he’d imagined it to happen at a bar, maybe after a precinct party, both a little mellow off wine or rum. They’d put their differences aside and admit to the tension that’s been suffocating the air around them for years. They’d admit to the looks they share in the office when they both know they look good. They’d admit to the touches, the quips, the sexual advances.
But this? This was unexpected yet so gratifying. Weeks of build up and irritations and conflict being resolved by fucking the boy straight. George wasn’t the only one fuelling the fire, but he was usually the one who started it, so to see him like this– vulnerable and obscene with his hips so high in the air– was a fucking delight.
His hands and feet struggle against the binds as Dream fucks him until they don't, and his whole body goes pliant, letting the blond tear him apart with ease. George’s reduced to high pitched moans and long strings of curses which he can’t contain within himself. It seems it was a breaking point for both of them because Dream’s never seen George this broken.
“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck,” George practically screams as Dream hammers into his prostate. He moans pornogaphically loud and Dream tsks.
“You’re so goddamn loud,” Dream smacks the side of his hip and sees how easy his pale body reddens. His ass, hips, waist, neck, and face all bright red from the wanton mixture of pleasure and humiliation. It seems to work wonders for George, whose eyes are wide and dilated, mouth half open as he gets fucked like a rag doll.
“Dream,” George gasps. “Touch me.”
“No. Cum from my cock or nothing at all.”
“Fuck– fuck you. Please.” George rolls his hips back against his cock, trying to scour a crumb of control, before ultimately giving up and haplessly stilling against Dream, letting him continue pounding into him. “Please! Please please please–” he mindlessly babbles, words broken and voice cracking.
“Will you shut the fuck up?”
“Make me,” George begs, and Dream shoves two fingers into his mouth. George moans around them before sucking like a good boy, fluttering his eyes close. Dream hisses.
“ God, you’re a slut. Stupid little slut.” Dream comments with glazed eyes. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
George bites on his fingers and Dream stops inside of him and pulls his fingers out of his wet mouth. George giggles against his fingertips.
“Sorry daddy.”
The older clenches around Dream’s cock so hard he could almost break it off and Dream spills a deep seated moan and squeezes his palms on George’s waist. He rolls his hips into him and then throws his head low, blond hair falling sweatily on his forehead as he begins fucking him faster than ever, chasing his orgasm. George’s giggles turn into pleasured incomprehensible moans as Dream fastens until they’re both enveloped by the musk of sex around them and dizzy with pleasure.
Dream spills into him as George’s small thighs quiver. He fills the boy with cum while riding it out, pumping it deeper into his orifice. Upon finishing, he sputters out curses, eyes wide.
“Fuck,” He breathes as he pulls out slowly. George is a whimpering mess and needs his attention, clearly, but Dream settles down and watches with a heaving chest as his cum oozes out of George’s hole.
Of all the things that happened, he thinks the image of George, still tied helplessly, laying on the ground with his ass in the air, cum spilling out of him, will be imprinted in his mind forever. He wants to take a picture. It satisfies both his ego and his dick.
“D-daddy please.” George squeaks, and Dream almost coos. He reaches between his thighs and wraps his hand around his cock, tugging on it harshly with little love. But George relishes in it, mewling into it until he’s spilling himself onto Dream’s open palm.
Despite performing several high speed on-foot chases together in the past, they’re both more out of breath right now than ever before. George sits up and looks utterly messed, his hair ruffled, eyes watery, cheeks red, limps damp. Just the sight of him makes Dream want to fuck him again. And again and again and again.
Dream, too, feels like he ran a marathon. Sex usually leaves him satisfied but this feels different. He feels as if he’s coming down from a high, like the elation of party drugs making his chest feel heavy and his mind feel loose. They sit in silence for a long time before George speaks up.
“I can’t believe we had sex in a fucking warehouse.” George says, and the unexpectedness of his words makes Dream laugh. “You could have at least taken me to your car.”
“Shit, yeah. We best scrub ourselves clean after this.” Dream grabs the scissors off the floor and grabs George’s hands up, cutting the ties off his wrist.
George exhales in relief and rubs his hands over his wrists. Dream moves to cut off the ties on his ankles as well. When he’s done, he looks up at George and is met with weary eyes. George looks so small then, practically naked and sitting there, a little dazed and confused.
“Hey, you okay?” Dream asks softly, and George nods.
“Yeah. Um– I don’t have clothes. Or a way to get back.”
“I’ll give them to you, don’t worry.” Dream grabs his leather jacket off the floor and wraps it around George’s small shoulders. It practically swallows him. George lets him help, looking at him through his lashes. Dream feels silly for this, but the sudden need to take care of George and look after him overcomes him. The past half hour of bad mouthing fades away into something more gentle.
Dream helps him stand up. The jacket is zipped up on him and fits like a dress.
“I can’t walk, it hurts too much.” George says, and it takes less than a second for Dream to lift him bridal style.
“Yeah right. You’re just lazy.” Dream remarks, and George giggles drowsily against Dream’s shoulder.
George sits on his passenger seat in the car and practically falls asleep as Dream drives to his house.
“How did you get tied anyway? I thought you knew how to avoid the ropes.”
“I did.” George mumbles. “But it was either me who gets tied or one of the junior cops present there so I took it and told him to go call for help from the precinct.”
“I see.” Dream smiles to himself and glances to the left to see George nodding off to sleep. “Rest. It’s been a long and hard day for you.”
“Shut up.”
They reach his apartment building and George doesn’t seem to care about the looks he gets from the receptionist when he walks in with nothing but a jacket on. Dream watches him leave and then sighs to himself.
Then he takes out his phone and texts Sapnap we had sex.
Sapnap responds in under a minute: fucking finally.
–
“Clearly, simply hoping to avoid it isn’t working. Ranboo’s idea is good. If we make a suit from a material which isn’t affected by the ropes, then we can get through and bust those guys once and for all.” Bad says in the morning briefing the next Monday. He stands in front of all the detectives with a projection behind him. He glances over at George with a small smile. “Of course, this is still your mission, George–”
“Dream can have it. I don’t want it anymore.” George says cooly, leaning against the wall, picking on his nails. “It bores me.”
Dream glances at him and holds back a snicker. “I’ll happily take it, but I think me and George should be co-leads since we both know a lot about the case. It does have two big gangs working together. I think it’s best if we work together too.”
There’s a small silence which fills the room, until Bad hits himself on the head and shakes like a wet dog.
“Did I hear that right? You want to willingly work with George?”
“We have walked into an alternate universe.” Ranboo jokes, seemingly the only one who can put up with Bad’s corny sense of humor. Dream resists rolling his eyes and before he can speak, George does.
“He’s obsessed with me, Bad. I don’t know what to say.” George sighs, and then stands up straight. “Fine, I accept, as long as it means I don’t get tied up again.”
“I can’t say I won’t willingly let that happen.” Dream mutters, and George eyes him daringly.
“Great! This is amazing, ooh, I have to call and tell Philza. He told me you two would never come together.”
“They came together for sure. ” Sapnap enthuses, and Dream resists kicking him in the shin.
After the morning briefing is done, George walks back to his desk and sees a pack of strawberry lollipops lying on his table, unopened. He runs his fingers over it and then feels a presence behind him.
“Is that the right flavor?”
George looks up at Dream. “Are you trying to woo me?”
“I don’t think I need to try.” Dream says in a hushed voice, and then leans in to whisper. “Tell me if you need a pillow to sit on, by the way. You still seem to be sore and I know it’s not because of the ropes.”
George can hardly respond. It’s quite rewarding to be able to turn him silent and shy, unlike his earlier self who would’ve responded with something snappy. He pushes Dream away lightly by his chest and rolls his eyes, ignoring the taller. Dream smiles to himself as he walks away.
–
George is addicting.
Dream doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the high reward after a long wait. Maybe it’s the bizarre way they had sex. Maybe it’s just George. But Dream’s had sex with countless people (not to brag, but to brag) and yet he doesn’t remember ever thinking of them for weeks later. Images of their time together pop up in his head like an itch that won’t go away. He finds himself stirring his coffee in the morning and thinking about George and the way he throws his head over his shoulder and smiles when he takes cock.
There’s something borderline animalistic about his urges for the man. He thought that when they did have sex, as it was quite inevitable, that it would be a one time thing. Maybe twice. But now, he finds himself growing warm in the chest upon seeing him in the office. Dream can taste him on his lips from simply seeing him. He’s an all consuming force, like a metaphysical entity constantly looming in the back of his mind. Fucking him was like a spiritual experience on its own, something Dream wants to recreate endlessly yet preserve like treasure.
He needs him. He wants to sink fingers against plush flesh and nip on pale skin. He wants to see him in every position in every place possible.
It makes it a lot harder to work together.
Over the course of the next week, they have to be partners-in-(solving)-crime. When they want to, they work quite well together, especially when there’s no need to belittle or be better. Through research and talks with science experts, they find a substance that can be made into a kind of armored shield which will protect them from the binding ropes. Days pass and while their back and forth remains, it lessens and always ends in an awkward sexual tension which they can’t just break away from like before. Their eyes linger on each other for longer and there’s more closeness than prior.
Dream finds himself wanting to touch him constantly, always patting his waist when walking past or wiping food crumbs from the corner of his mouth during lunch. George isn’t sly either, often running his fingers down Dream’s bicep with a lost look on his face before gaining back any semblance and proceeding to ignore him.
Each day, they seem to be getting closer to losing themselves. Moving past him in the cramped kitchen and maybe purposefully pressing him into the counter and seeing him falter was far too fun. Dream needed more.
On Friday, Bad announced that since their computers didn’t trace files back to pre-90’s, the two boys should ask someone to sort through the physical database to retrieve information on certain strong metals discovered through raids.
“Oh, no need.” George waves his hand nonchalantly. “Dream and I can do it ourselves. Can’t we, Dream?”
Dream hesitates and glances at him before looking back at Bad. “Um, we could sort through hundreds of files and waste half our day. We don’t have to, though. Ranboo could do it for us.”
“Aw, what happened, Mr. Genius? Not up for a challenge?” George flutters his lashes at him with a cocky flash which ignites something within Dream. When he doesn’t respond, George looks back at Bad and sighs.
“I guess I can do it on my own, Bad. My partner just… isn’t up for it, I suppose.”
“I am.”
“No, really, I understand that someone like you needs to run amuck like a puppy before getting any work done–”
“Don’t call me that again.” Dream grits, and George charges him.
“Or what?” He whispers sharply, and Dream stares down at him with a fiery look, as if daring him to say more in front of their fucking chief in command. George doesn’t seem to care as much, holding back a knowing smile.
“Gentlemen, please. I thought we left your arguing behind. Dream, if you don’t want to do it, I can always allocate Alex or Karl to help George–”
“I’ll do it. Give me the keys, that storage room hasn’t been opened for years.” Dream mutters. George smiles coyly and when Bad leaves to ask someone to retrieve a key, Dream grabs George’s waist by his arm and pulls him in closer until their chests touch and his lips meet George’s ear.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
George brings his fingers up to the buttons of his shirt and looks up in faux alarm. “What am I doing? Enlighten me.”
Dream looks at him now, and their noses almost touch. George is dressed casual today, rather than in his tight body suit (which Dream can’t look straight at without imagining the rips that bore in it a week ago), and instead clad in tight black trousers that fit well on his long legs and a buttoned white shirt with the first two buttons undone. His collarbones peek through and Dream thinks it’s unfair that he can look so good in every damn thing he wears.
“Don’t act cute.” Dream leans in until his lips hover over his, and watches as George loses his demeanor and gets into a trance. “We’re at work. Don’t expect anything.”
“Why not?” George whines softly, opening his mouth in hopes that Dream would devour him. “I’ve only been waiting a few weeks .”
Dream grins against his lips, still not kissing him. “Remember when you said I was the one going stupid after you?”
“You are,” George kisses him and Dream has a hard time pulling away, but the distant footsteps of a coworker make him peel himself off the pretty boy. George exhales a sigh and steps away. Bad comes back in.
“Here.” Bad tosses the keys to Dream. “Don’t start fighting in the room, okay? I’m trusting you two to act like adults and behave. I don’t want to hear any noise.”
“Not even a little bit of noise?” George asks, and Dream hisses.
“Shut up, George.”
“Sorry. We promise we’ll behave, Bad. You don’t have to worry. We’ll find those files in no time.” George reassures cooly, and Bad nods, always so trusting of his two best detectives. No one’s happier than him about the new shift in Dream and George’s relationship.
George walks ahead of him, and the black trousers are tight on his perky little ass Dream can’t tear his eyes away from. Everything about him was sexy to the point where the logical, rational parts of Dream’s brain were clogging like a broken machine.
“I’m not fucking you at work.” Dream whispers as they walk down the hallway, towards the awaited room. George glances over his shoulder.
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, George.”
“Sure. I believe you.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Dream mutters as George bends down to grab the keys he accidentally dropped.
“Why, I would do no such thing!” George presses the tip of the metallic key into the hole of the door and then whimpers openly. “It’s not going in– ah– Dream, help me,” He stutters and looks at Dream with doe eyes which makes Dream feel a bit crazy.
He sees George squirm trying to fit the key in before eventually looping his arm around his waist to reach for the key, jamming it in with ease.
“ Behave. ” Dream whispers into his ear and watches goosebumps form on his exposed forearms. “We’re at work, not a bar. This isn’t how I do things.”
“Yet,” George responds before nudging the door open. “This isn’t how you do things yet. You’ve never been with someone like me before.”
“What does that mean?” Dream closes the door behind him and turns around to find George on his knees, hands planted between parted thighs, grinning mischievously with a knowing glint in his eye.
“You can’t resist me.” George says as Dream stares at him wide-eyed, seconds away from being pulled in like a magnet. “And when I say I want your cock in my mouth, you’ll give me what I want. Isn’t that right, Dream?”
Dream fish mouths for a couple of seconds. Every fiber in his being tells him having sex at work goes against his every principle, but the way his dick twitches in his pants makes him forget ethics. George is on his knees and Dream is his idiot.
The next minute and a half is a blur but soon enough Dream’s cock is inches deep in George’s throat and his hand is fisting the back of his hair. Dream’s not the nicest, but George likes that. He seems to like how hard Dream pulls on his hair, moving him up and down his length while all George can do is take it. And take it he does, with soft pink lips and watery eyes, flushed cheeks and wavering hands.
His hand creeps up his own thigh and closer to his crotch which Dream notices because he stops all movement in George’s mouth to instead bring his foot up and press down on George’s dick. George yelps around Dream, looking up frantically, and then blinking a few times before shamefully rubbing off against his foot.
“Focus on sucking me off, I’ll take care of the rest,” Dream rasps, and George hums, continuing to bob his head up and down, happily throating him with hollowed cheeks and a swirling tongue. Dream closes his eyes from pleasure and tips his head back, trying his hardest to control his grunts and moans which edge passing.
George grows hard against Dream’s foot and looks up, wet and blinking, lips lolling over the head of Dream’s cock like he does with his lollipops.
“Don’t fuck around, I’m close.” Dream mutters, and George opens his inviting mouth, waiting for him to fuck it recklessly. Which Dream does, stuffing his cock in and hearing him let out a choked gasp.
He’s rough and fast and George takes it like he’s meant for it. Which he may be, with those plush pink lips and soft mouth. Dream’s fingers curl around the back of his head before shoving himself in deep and hearing him breath hard against Dream.
It’s not long before he’s cumming into George’s mouth, pulling out slowly as he climaxes out, spilling white onto pink tongue. George sits down on the floor, hapless, and gulps down hard, not flinching for a second. He wipes the corner of his mouth with his fingers and sucks off any remnants of Dream while looking at him with lidded eyes.
“Done this before?” Dream asks, breathing heavy. George gets up from the floor and dusts off his knees.
“Why ask? You’ll just be upset at the answer.”
Dream scoffs. “So is this, like, a thing you do with all your male coworkers? Who’s next, Karl?”
“Maybe. I’ll see. I keep an expiry date on most men.” George says with a smile.
“When’s mine?”
“Dunno.” George steps towards him and taps on his chest, looking up all cute. “Why don’t you get on your knees and maybe I’ll be nice and extend it.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck– s-slow down!” George gasps, his fingers fumbling on blond hair, eyes blown wide as Dream sucked him off hard and fast. “I’m going to– fuck!”
“Shut up,” Dream pulls off and grits with his lips against George’s cock. “Someone will hear you.”
“Okay, just, slow down then.” George whispers, and melts against the wall when Dream takes him in his mouth again, deepthroating him with a little too much ease. George’s jaw hangs.
“Oh,” He closes his eyes, letting Dream take control, hands curling on blond locks. “You’re good. Yeah. Like a– like a good little pup. Wanna put you in a collar.”
Dream sucks harder at that, hollowing his cheeks and making sounds so obscene it made George’s knees tremble. George, for all his talk, is easy to break down. He’s releasing into Dream’s mouth soon and breathes heavy as Dream swallows it up.
“ God, that was fun, huh?” George says with a lazy smirk. Dream brushes his hair back and nods, suddenly realizing, with a salty taste in his mouth, that they’ve wasted about 20 minutes of this search having sex at work. George makes it hard to be a rule follower. He’s callous in the way he cares so little about order. It’s frightening at times, but Dream is tempted by it.
They collect themselves quickly like the good employees they are and sit themselves down with boxes of files around them ranging from the 50s until 1985, sorting through all files and searching for what they need.
Both remain silent while they sort through files, which is funny, considering they had their cocks in each other’s mouths minutes ago. But it’s easier to fall into this rhythm, with the only sound being of files falling against piles on the floor or heavy heaves of sighs when their search leads to no avail.
What’s not easy is how Dream sometimes gets distracted in the way George’s brows furrow in concentration and how his teeth sink into his bottom lip. How his nose scrunches when he doesn’t find what he needs and how he drops the files with a roll of the eyes which is nothing but cute. How, when he thinks no one’s looking, he’s boyish and cute, with doe-like eyes and fluttering lashes. Soft.
“I’ll send you a picture of me later, you don’t have to keep staring.” George says with a tilted look, and Dream looks away with a shake of his head.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Dream responds. George lets out a faint chuckle. It feels comfortable with him. There’s no need for fake snarls or rolls of eyes. Although that tension remains, it feels more like banter, which is a lot easier to work with.
When they finish sorting through files, they find the ones they need and place them in two boxes to distinguish for later. George whines and makes Dream carry both boxes because he’s too delicate or some shit.
“You’re such a baby,” Dream says, holding up two heavy boxes with a little effort. “You can’t expect me to do everything for you.”
“Can’t I?” George asks with a raised brow, before leaning up on his toes and kissing Dream on his bottom lip. Dream opens his mouth and closes it. The weight of the boxes seem excruciating now; he wants to drop them and hold George instead. He wants to kiss him with the force of the sun.
George smiles at the silence. “What’s wrong? Cock got your tongue?”
But the idea ceases and instead, Dream scoffs. “You’re always so quippy. Can’t ever have a normal conversation with you.”
“Good. Don’t hope for it. Leave one of the boxes at my desk, or give them to Ranboo, he’ll arrange them better.” George waves a hand dismissively as Dream follows behind him. He can barely see him past the two boxes, and when he turns next, George is gone.
Like a whisper in the wind, he’s always present yet mysterious, like a gift waiting to be unwrapped. Dream wants to. He wants to melt him in his hands down to his bare essentials and figure him out like he does murder cases. George is pretty yet mean, bratty yet bossy. He’s got the intellect of world-class investigators along with the brain capacity of a teenager who doesn’t care about the world. He’s honest yet secretive and giggly yet cold. He’s the one to bring Dream to his knees and the one begging on his. He’s… an enigma. Dream’s drawn like a magnet.
–
As the week comes to a close, Dream finds himself standing around with familiar faces on the balcony of an office party with a drink in hand. The night dawns upon them and Dream finds it hard to laugh along to the anecdotes shared when Wilbur has his arm around George. Those two sit on a couch in the living room with some more friends and if George’s head inches any closer to his shoulder, Dream might have to get another drink.
Why do I care?
There’s something off about Wilbur– something about his light brown trench coats and eye-covered curly hair which agitates Dream. Something about how well he solves the cases in his area of New York and how he and George share some camraderey because of their shared heritage. Maybe Dream’s just an asshole who hates how easily Wilbur makes George laugh and how they go to lunches together sometimes.
It takes one more whiskey soda for him to make his way to the living room and sit on the white couches by the detectives of the self-established rival precinct. George, usually all cocky and righteous, seems to care less about listening to Philza explaining a successful quarter at his precinct. He looks a bit tired with his hand wrapped around an empty glass.
Dream meets his eyes. George returns a small smile before propping his head on Wilbur’s shoulder. Wilbur, too entrapped in whatever’s being said, doesn't seem to notice, but Dream does, and he forcibly averts his eyes to avoid infuriating himself.
“How about you two? Bad says you’re finally workin’ together!” Philza chimes to Dream, slapping him on his back. Him and Bad are quite close, considering they often bond over having to be the captain of chaotic precincts.
“What, you and Dream?” Wilbur asks, directing his question to George, who looks up at him. “Willingly? I thought you two hated each other,”
“We aren’t foolish enough to let our differences affect our work,” Dream says, because there’s no denying that they share an animosity towards one another, even if it’s lessening. Everyone knows. Wilbur often jokes to Dream about how he can switch George for Techno if he’d like.
Wilbur snickers. “Didn’t you two get into a fight during a mafia bust a few months ago? I heard from the Brooklyn precinct that you two used to fight quite a bit.”
George sighs dramatically. “Conflict arouses sometimes in work, especially when a certain someone’s so hot-headed.” He says pointedly, making Wilbur laugh. Dream takes a sip of his drink.
“Arouses, does it?” Wilbur asks, a little quieter. George giggles. “Your language choice is always so peculiar, George.”
“Would you like me to say something else?”
“I’d like you to say a lot of things.”
“How’s your play-writing going, Wilbur?” Dream asks loudly, effectively changing the topic. Wilbur’s eyes brighten and he begins speaking instantly and excitedly, going into a tangent, which assumptively bores George, who goes back to looking around and toying with an empty glass. Dream listens to Wilbur intently and with a smile.
“Well, I’ve just talked for a bit too long. Would you like me to get you a drink? I’m heading to the bar,” Wilbur says to George, who nods up at him. “Anything specific?”
“I trust you’ll get me something I’ll like.” George says softly. Dream hates how soft he is, especially knowing how icy he can be when he wants to. Wilbur leaves, and the air surrounding them is thick.
Dream gets up first and walks around the couch until he reaches George, where he leans down until his lips tickle George’s ear.
“Bathroom down the hallway.” He whispers hotly, and George’s fists tighten on his lap. He looms over the brunette for a moment before aiming down the hallway, hearing soft footsteps behind him.
He grabs George first and shoves him into the open bathroom before following suit, closing the door behind him. George looks at him with expecting eyes as Dream crowds him against the door with his hands clamping down on his waist.
It’s a familiar dance, the hands sinking into the dip of his torso and George’s staying pliant by his side. His demeanor is soft and innocent as if he doesn’t know what he did. Dream looks down at him in a way which makes him feel like a hunter gathering its prey.
“I’m going to lay down two options for you right now, George.” Dream begins in a whisper, looking George in the eyes. “First option, you go back to that party, you get your little drink, you can sit pretty on Wilbur’s lap or whatever and I don’t spare you another glance. Maybe if you’re lucky he’ll bring you back here and fuck you all nice.”
George blinks. “W-what’s the second option?”
“The second,” Dream slithers his hands to the small of his back and George leans into him. “You be a good boy and say bye to all your coworkers and I take you home.”
“Take me home?” George breathes against him.
“Take you home, strip you naked, lay you down on my bed and fuck you till you’re fucking crying and begging me to keep fucking you.” Dream rasps, and hears George exhale audibly, a whimper wavering at the back of his throat.
George looks at him for a few seconds, his 1 wine-glassed out expression trying its best to remain aloof. But it’s hard when Dream’s got him like this.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to assess my options,” George says, then trails his hand up Dream’s chest. “What-what else will you do to me?”
He’s met with silence. Dream grabs George’s hand off his chest and slams it onto the door above his head.
“I’ll tell you what I won’t do,” Dream says, leaning down a bit to meet him eye to eye. George looks terrified yet inexplicably horny. “I won’t be nice. If you want, I could fuck you right here too. Bend you over the sink and take you like the little slut you are. You can walk out afterward to all your coworkers, messy haired, red cheeked, loose legged, and smelling of sex. Maybe you can waddle over to Wilbur and spend the rest of the night acting like your hole isn’t molded to the shape of my cock.”
George lets out a breath that sounds more like a plea. His eyes are wide. It seems to set George off, because he’s grabbing Dream by the collar and kissing him hard on the mouth as if he needs it to survive. Dream presses him into the door and kisses against him roughly.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Please.” George gasps.
“We’ll go outside. You’ll say goodbye to everyone you spoke to. Okay?” Dream says, thumb dipping George’s bottom lip. George nods and opens his mouth to hopefully suck on Dream’s thumb. Dream drops his hand down instead and smacks George’s ass.
“ Go, George.” Dream says sternly, and George looks up at him brattily for a few seconds before getting out of the bathroom.
It’s funny seeing George saying goodbye to everyone, who take way too long parting ways, with his hands holding his jacket neatly in front of him. He keeps glancing over at Dream, who’s doing the same, though taking far longer.
Dream walks up to George when he sees him saying goodbye to Wilbur, and it’s almost cute how his thighs are clenched together tightly. The mild confusion on the tall rival detective’s face upon seeing Dream ‘carpool’ George back home is extremely satisfying; but not as much as putting his hand on George’s lower back and sending Wilbur a small smile before leaving the apartment.
“You gave me two options,” George says in the car. Dream has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on George’s thigh. “How did you know I’d choose you over him?”
Dream chuckles, and it’s condescending in the sexiest way possible.
“Confidence.”
Not more than half an hour later, Dream has George under him, knees raised to his chest, arms over his head, lips spit-slicken and open, letting out heavenly moans, as he gets recklessly pounded into.
Dream’s rough as he’s precise. He may be mean with how hard he slams into George’s prostate but he’s never messy. George has tears in his eyes and his fatigue makes him whinier and somehow prettier. Moonlight streams from Dream’s tall windows onto his pale skin, illuminating him like there’s speckles of glitter on him.
God, he’s beautiful under him. He takes cock so well, writhing and panting and bucking his hips up, working with Dream like two waves in the ocean. Dream grips his soft skin and finds it hard to not bruise and bite and mark his pale thighs and small waist.
“You’re mine,” Dream says, teeth grazing over his neck. George moans throatily beneath him. “All mine. I don’t want you to fuck anybody else.”
And it’s a claim. It’s a bold statement, perhaps a spillage of vulnerability that Dream can never take back. But he needs to say it, because George, at this moment, is his, and Dream wants it to stay like that. He hates how his mind irates him with thoughts of George with other men. He hates how angry he felt seeing George with Wilbur. He hates how jealousy feels. It’s bitter and weak. He’s bitter and weak– for George. All for George.
As Dream slows down in his thrusts, George gasps, making him feel every impact of his cock against George’s nerves. The smaller nods fast.
“I don’t want you to either– ah–!”
Dream nips on his bottom lip. They were crossing a line, falling from the boundaries of one save haven into unchartered territories, undiscovered and unyielding. The waters were high but Dream was willing to swim. He was willing to drown.
It was too fast. It was only a week. It was only the second time. But despite being the second time, it felt as if they were meant for this. They were born for this. They fit like puzzle pieces, Dream’s larger hand swallowing his smaller one. Fucking someone had never felt this right– as if all the axes of the world had shifted to accommodate for their bond. It felt more thrilling than normal sex should. Dream wants to fuck him forever.
“Cum.” Dream demands. “Cum for me.”
George does, untouched, while his lips meet messily with Dream’s. He rides his high against Dream’s thigh and then pulls away gasping for breath, panting heavily, falling back down onto the pillow.
Dream spills into him shortly after and stirs in him for a few seconds to see him squirm cutely before pulling out.
They lie on Dream’s bed while staring up at the ceiling with plenty of space between them.
“I’ve never actually fucked Wilbur, by the way,” George says after minutes of complete silence and the washing down of a post-sex high. “We flirt sometimes, but I’ve never done more. I don’t like having sex with co-workers. It’s strange to me. Believe it or not, I actually condone a professional work environment.”
“Am I the exception?”
“Aren’t I too?”
Dream blinks hazily and thinks, yeah, he is. Dream’s never the kind to come back to a hookup but George has him in his clutches.
“I knew you hadn’t done anything with him, by the way.” Dream says, and feels George’s eyes on him. “Nobody who’s fucked you can let you go like that. He would be crazy obsessed if he had. I bet he fears it. That’s why you’ve never done more than flirt. He knows he’ll fall for you.”
George laughs after a bit, tired and sweet. “You’re projecting.”
“Shut up.”
“I hope you don’t fall for me, Dream. That’d be unwise.” George says, and then sits up suddenly. Dream eyes him for a few seconds before yawning.
“You can stay the night if you want. It’s late.”
George stands up. “I already called an uber.”
“Oh.”
He leaves without saying much else. Dream can’t seem to fall asleep too well.
—