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Dream knows he should have learned by now that humanity in general is unfailingly unpredictable, and that Hob Gadling in particular is all the more so.
The summons hadn't surprised him. It was why he guarded his name carefully. Names have power. When he shared this with his friend of all these years, he knew it would only be a matter of time until the man used it, however unwittingly.
When he'd appeared at Hob's side however…
Well, that he had not foreseen.
The static charge from Hob's unconscious imaginings had crackled around them like lightning and it was all Dream could do to hold on tight to the dreamer and attempt to reclaim his balance.
He has seen and known all in dreams. Of course, Dream of the Endless is no stranger to human urges and wants, but it had been a long time since he had found himself at the centre of a fantasy, even longer since he had taken a lover of his own.
Hob had gazed into his eyes with an expression of pure elation and, when Dream had steadied himself enough to speak, he had stolen his words with a kiss.
The man’s sleeping mind was changeable, and the details of the dream had shifted around them as Hob tugged at his hair and kissed his neck. He had smiled against his chest and teased Dream’s skin with teeth and tongue until Dream felt his need for the man burn within him.
When he drew back from their embrace to look at Dream questioningly–did he actually believe his touch could ever be unwelcome?–Dream abandoned all attempts at self-control.
He had flipped the scene effortlessly, pressed Hob beneath him when the dream had reshaped at his command, and taken control. For his part, Hob appeared to have no objections. He was in fact loudly and enthusiastically not protesting.
He had the man begging within moments. Dream felt tempted to start pleading himself. Instead, he took Hob desperately, fiercely. He'd wanted this for so long, and had restrained himself against his passionate nature for centuries. He had done so with good reason, an affair with one of the Endless was as dangerous as it was euphoric. Dream had tried to abstain, but he could not claim to be strong-willed enough to ignore such an open invitation. Hob was impossible to ignore. He was joyful, even in desperation and Dream felt himself losing his rhythm, chasing their shared bliss. How he wanted him. How he had waited.
Then, Hob woke up and was gone. Dream found himself breathless and alone in the void of a dream without its dreamer.
***
Dream is aware he is a passionate being. He is physical and emotional for all that he is an idea, an anthropomorphic realisation of the power of dreams. It is his downfall and he is aware he is not immune to lust, rage, envy or love. He is of the Dreaming, and it is of him. Dreams are feelings, wishes, hopes and horrors. And so is he. It had taken a long, long time for him to learn control in his nature, to limit his loves and contain himself. Hob's dream has awoken something in him that he has long suppressed.
He finds himself lingering in the Waking World long after the sun rise, sitting by the Thames on a grey cold mid-morning. He is not surprised when his sister joines him. He had hoped she would, and wished she wouldn't.
"Hello, little brother."
She is holding a bag of pungent powdered donuts from a street vendor and offers one to him as she joins him, perching at his side on the wide concrete steps.
"It is far too early for such sweet things."
"We're Endless," she notes with a shrug, helping herself to another. "What do you care about the time of day?"
He says nothing.
"So..." she leans forward, following his gaze to the restless grey waters of the river. "What is it this time? Banishment? Madness? I know your affair hasn't led to death or I'd know about it already."
"There is no affair."
She doesn't dignify that with an answer.
"Nothing has happened yet," he concedes. "This is only the beginning."
"Oh! Well, congratulations and condolences, I guess," she smiles knowingly and he feels his frown deepen in response.
As always his dark mood only serves to make her chuckle and she shoves his shoulder playfully.
"So, spit it out. Who is the unlucky recipient of your love this time around?"
There is no point denying it, he supposes.
"Hob Gadling."
"Hob Gadling," she returns, incredulous.
Then, she is laughing so hard she drops her bag of sweet treats, sending them rolling across the walkway. An optimistic seagull hops closer, but flies away swiftly, cawing as Dream whips his head around to glare at his sibling.
"I'm sorry," she snorts, wiping away tears. "I'm so sorry, Dream. I just–you said it was the beginning–600 years–"
"It is the beginning of whatever this is. Things are… changing."
"Things tend to do that."
She rests a hand on his arm, laughter under control but still smiling.
"Only we are Endless, little brother. Everything else must change. Sometimes, even we change."
Dream simply sighs and closes his eyes. All irritation has left him now, he feels only resignation. Even he cannot hide from his heart.
"I suppose I shall speak to him about… this."
"Though you would prefer to hide away and pine in misery. Which is why you're brooding by the water, instead of returning to his side immediately?"
Dream's silence apparently speaks for itself.
"Well."
His sister rises and offers her hand. After a moment, he takes it, and is pulled to his feet.
"No time like the present."
She goes her way soon after, and he goes his, but not without a squeeze of their hands before parting.
They will no doubt cross paths again soon.
He is glad of it.
***
When it becomes clear Hob Gadling remembers nothing of his dreams the previous night Dream finds himself unable to hide his amusement. The man even has the nerve to ask him if he can be tempted to stay for a meal. There is nothing about Hob Gadling that does not tempt him.
He chatters amiably about all kinds of things, as he always does, and Dream listens. He tries and fails to distract himself from the sight of the man's shoulders moving against the back of his shirt, unable to banish the memory of Hob Gadling’s helpless exaltation as Dream had taken what he wanted and given in return.
It is all he can do not to cross the small kitchen and turn his friend to face him, to forcefully remind him of the imaginings that have since slipped his mind.
That would not be fair. Hob owes him no continuation of his dreams.
He leaves for the Dreaming before he can challenge his own resolve.
***
Morpheus
He answers the call, of course, and finds Hob’s familiar warm grin awaiting him. He is adorned in the fashions of the late 1700s, reclining across an enormous bed and surrounded by decadence and distant music.
Dream’s gaze travels over the open waistcoat, Hob’s exposed chest where his shirt hangs from him. The hint of distant hard work, softened at the edges by comfortable living, calls to Dream like a siren song.
"Hob Gadling, you are forming a habit."
Hob clearly isn't listening.
He grins lazily up at Dream, who gathers from the appreciative note in the glance that he too is attired appropriately for the times. He had always enjoyed this particular visage. It seems Hob did too–
–They are side by side on the bed. Hob's face close as he twists his hands into Dream's long hair. Dream can smell the sweetness of wine on his breath. He wants to taste it, drink him in.
"Are you often drunk in your dreams?"
Hob laughs.
"Perhaps," he mumbles. "I don't remember drinking but I do feel a little lightheaded."
They are themselves again. Themselves of the 21st Century, at least. Dream becomes aware that his shirt is missing, and that Hob wears nothing. He leans in without conscious decision–
Hob has dreamed they have been kissing but his sleeping mind has skipped the main event. That would not do. Dream can only take so much temptation.
"That is quite enough. This dream is over."
***
"God's bones! Fuck! What are you thinking?! Holy–You'll scare a man to death."
Dream is amused in spite of his frustration as he watches a sleep-mussed Hob drag himself up into a sitting position in the Waking World.
"We need to speak."
"Damn right we do. We need to speak about boundaries and letting yourself in when I'm–"
He cannot hold back the eye-roll, a habit he knows he has adopted from his sister, as Hob pulls his duvet up to his chest. Now he acts modest? It is far too late for that. Centuries too late.
"You summoned me, Hob Gadling."
He sees the moment understanding dawns and nearly winces in sympathy. It is never pleasant to feel so exposed in your heart’s inclinations. Not that Hob is thinking with his heart, as such, probably. Though, the affection growing evident on his friend’s face is giving Dream a dangerous sense of hope. Perhaps there are fairer feelings intertwined with lust. A tantalising hope indeed.
"So, anytime I want to reach out or see you, I can just… speak your name?"
Dream feels his eyebrows rise. Is that really what the man wants to know right now?
Hob looks thoroughly unabashed; naked, curious, enthusiastic. Dream wants him so much he aches.
“That name calls to me. When you speak it aloud, I will hear it."
"So if I want to call on you for a change–not for, I mean, not when I–uh–but just to say hello, I can just… call you and you'll appear?"
"I can choose to ignore you."
As if he has any choice when it comes to this man.
As if his fate wasn’t sealed the first time he saw him smile and cry out for more life in 1389.
"And will you? Ignore me?"
The insolent bastard is teasing him. Him, Dream of the Endless, Master of the Dreaming. He should be furious. Instead, he feels his lips tugged into a knowing smile. He has changed in recent times. Perhaps for the better.
"This is a dangerous kind of game you're playing, Hob Gadling."
"Yet you're playing it too."
"Oh, am I now?"
"Nevermind denying it. You admit you don't have to come when call. And yet…"
"I did not know what awaited me when I answered your first call."
Dream will not blush. He is not some lovestruck fool embarking on their first love affair.
"And the second call?"
He looks away, sure he cannot hold the man’s gaze without doing something stupid.
"You skipped out on me last night, you know?"
"I am sorry."
He meets Hob's heated gaze then. Looks upon the face without masking his feelings for the first time in centuries.
"In truth, I feared the temptation to help you recall your dream was becoming irresistible."
He keeps his eyes locked on Hob's and watches his meaning sink in.
"Do I need to be dreaming to call you close to me?"
Dream would follow his summons to the ends of time itself.
He stops pretending to resist. He made his decision long ago. So, it seems, did Hob Gadling. He lets his form reflect his desires, watches Hob's eyes trace his naked torso and feels a half-forgotten exhilaration, one he has not felt for the longest time, when his lover lets out a single, breathless laugh.
"I thought I wasn't dreaming anymore?"
"You are not."
Dream resumes his advance until he is covering Hob's body with his own, chest to bare chest.
He is unclothed now and he pauses as a hint of doubt rises within him. His hands absently intertwine with Hob's, holding them firmly against the pillow by his face.
"I should perhaps warn you... this will not be what you're used to."
Being a lover of the Endless is not the same as being lover to a human, fae or even a god.
Hob is, as ever, completely unfazed. He wraps his legs around Dream's waist, rolls them over so their positions are reversed.
"I may not be what you're used to either."
Dream cannot help it. He laughs. How, after all time he can still be surprised by humanity in general, and Hob Gadling in particular, he’ll never know. And then Hob is kissing him and he stops thinking altogether in favour of worshipping his lover’s skin, his mouth.
He had planned to take the lead, to show Hob Gadling all he knew could make the man burn for him. It seems his friend is doing just fine on his own.
He is Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless and he is desperate for his lover's touch. Beyond his own control, Dream loses himself in sensation and want.
"So what else do they call you, Lord Morpheus?" Hob whispers, brushing his lips over Dream's cheeks, his arched neck.
He gasps as Hob tugs his hair, hears his lover's amused satisfaction at the effect he is having.
Damn him.
"Names apparently offer a great many surprises."
Dream's words fail him under Hob’s attention. All he can do is close his eyes against the wave of feeling, roll his hips against Hob’s and bite back curses.
"Sire, is it?" Hob breathes, teeth closing gently on his neck. "Your grace?"
He runs his tongue over the tender spot, letting his hands explore while Dream writhes. Hob is taking him apart with words and teasing touches. Dream would be mortified how little it has taken to take him apart if he could summon the will to care.
"My lord? My King?"
"Hob."
Please, he wants to beg. Go easy on me.
Please, he would say was he able to. Never stop.
"What shall I call you?"
Dream's hands are grasping Hob' strong shoulders as he whispers the endearments into Dream’s skin.
"Dear-heart? My stranger? My secret?"
Dream gasps, bites at his lips.
"My love? My lover?"
As the intensity of their shared feeling peaks, Hob holds Dream close.
"My Dream," he breathes, and Dream falls apart in his arms–
The universe engulfs them, the only sound is the silence of the darkness. They are suspended in a nothingness as old as existence. Their words are lost but what they feel, that is transcendent–
When the pleasure subsides, and the two of them lie in each other’s arms, Dream holds Hob to him. He brushes his lips to Hob's temple, murmurs words of devotion into his skin.
When Hob is able to look at him, eyes focusing once more, they smile like fools in love. The understanding between them terrifies Dream. To love so deeply is to tempt disaster. But then, Hob is muttering something, barely awake and Dream pulls him closer still. It is worth it, whatever follows, to hold his lover in his arms and feel alive.
Besides, there is no need to fear the end just yet. This is only the beginning.
"Visit the dreaming, Hob Gadling. I will join you there."