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Off was really tired. He’d been awake since early morning and he was waiting for his next queue. He nodded off and before he knew it, Gun was stripping his clothes and sitting on his lap and fuck. Why were they both so naked?
“Papii,” he’d say, breathless. Then he’d sink down on Off’s conveniently ready-to-go cock and the Papii’s turned to a high pitch whine. Off would grab the back of Gun’s neck, pulling him closer. He’d smash their lips together, swallowing down Gun’s moans.
But somehow the boy still managed to let out more Papii’s from his lips, this time said with other things like, “oh fuck,” and “so big,” and “like that.”
“I got you, baby,” dream Off would tell him. Then Off would throw Gun down on the couch beside him, shifting their positions. He’d slip out, but it would only be for a second and then he was right back at it—plowing Gun with abandon.
“Please, Papii…please,” Gun would beg.
“Papii.”
“Papii.”
“Mmm, Gun,” Off mumbles.
“Papii,” Gun giggles.
The laughter jolts Off awake.
The real Gun has his head tilted, curious eyes raking over him. “You ok, Papii?”
Off groans, covering his face with his hands. “Nnghh. Give me a minute.”
He feels the couch dip as Gun sits down. Off shifts next to him, trying to conceal his current predicament and knowing he’s probably failing. Sure enough, Gun pokes the side of his cheek and says, “Is Papii all right? Why are you red? Are you getting sick?”
“Not sick…just…let me wake up please,” he mumbles under his hands.
Gun doesn’t seem to like that. He starts prying Off’s hands away, scooting closer. His face is wedging near the spot around Off’s neck. And to Off’s horror, he’s stretching a leg over. Off pushes him away before Gun can jump onto his lap. Gun falls back, landing on the floor.
“Papii!” he cries out, clearly hurt.
Now Off feels like an asshole. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, immediately. Gun gets up, dusting the back of his jeans. His sweet eyes have turned into a fearsome glare and Off knows he needs to fix this. “I um…I can’t have you on my lap right now, Gun.”
Gun frowns, crossing his arms. “Why? No one is around.”
“That’s not it,” Off sighs. “It’s just…I was dreaming. And I guess I got a little excited.”
“Oh,” Gun’s eyes immediately zero in on Off’s bulge between his legs. Off’s face heats in embarrassment. “So it was a good dream then?”
“Gun!” he squeaks, blushing darker. Gun giggles, sitting back down. “But…yeah. It was.” He doesn’t elaborate. He can’t.
Gun leans in again, nuzzling his neck. His eyes drift back down. “Papii should tell me what happened.”
Off regrets telling him—but only because Gun’s eyes sparkle with mischief and he teases him incessantly afterwards. Off’s got a chub the entire time he’s on set.
When they are done, he’s grabbing a cheeky Gun by the wrist. He drags him to the dressing room, barely locking the door before he devours Gun’s lips with his own.
The dream was good.
Reality was better.