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It’s late, but Sam finds he can’t fall asleep. As far as he knows, everyone else retired hours ago and are all sleeping soundly in their beds. He alone haunts the halls of the Dream Team mansion at this hour.
Thinking maybe a glass of water will help, he wanders down towards the kitchen. When his foot hits the bottom step of the stairway, he hears a strange noise. It sounds like a whimper, a plea. It sounds like pain.
Sam turns his head in the direction of the noise and finds that Dream’s office door is cracked open, the light on inside. He walks over to check on Dream and make sure everything is okay, but freezes in the entrance as he pushes the door open.
Dream’s not alone. His back is to the door, and he’s sitting in his desk chair, pushed back a bit from his computer. Now that Sam’s in the room, he knows that the noise he heard was a whimper, and that it had come from George. George is in Dream’s lap, facing the computer, and Sam can hear the unmistakable sound of lube on skin. He starts to back out of the room quietly, hoping his intrusion goes unnoticed.
“You can stay, Sam,” Dream says. Sam cringes and realizes he’s visible in the reflection of Dream’s computer screen.
“Sorry, Dream,” Sam says. “I wasn’t… I mean… I just heard a noise.”
“It’s okay,” Dream says, his voice soft and welcoming. “Come in.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“You shouldn’t, or you don’t want to?” Dream asks. George hasn’t spoke this entire time and Sam wonders how he feels about the question. Sam also wonders what George looks like sitting in Dream’s lap, what expression goes with the little noises he’d heard George make.
His desire wars with his sense of manners. He shouldn’t be here. This is private. He can’t make himself leave, though, now that he’s here.
“Do you want to watch?” Dream asks when Sam doesn’t respond. He turns his computer chair just a few inches, enough that Sam can see them in profile.
Dream is fully dressed, though the top of his pants and boxers are pushed down. George is wearing an oversized black t-shirt and nothing else. Sam can see shorts pooled on the floor beneath Dream’s chair. When Sam looks at George, his breath catches in his throat. George’s forearms are bound together, preventing his arms from moving. His dick is out and hard, resting in Dream’s hand. When Sam’s eyes drift to George’s ass, he realizes that George isn’t just sitting on Dream’s lap—he’s got Dream’s dick inside him.
Sam swallows thickly. His own dick twitches in his pants, begging him to stay for the show. His eyes drift up to look at George’s face. His skin is red, face covered in sweat, and there’s the slightest suggestion of tear tracks. He looks wrecked. Absolutely wrecked.
“You okay, Gogy?” he asks. He realizes that, up until now, only Dream has spoken. Dream has been the one making the offer.
“Green,” George says, breathy and quiet. It takes a second for it to filter through Sam’s brain, but then he realizes. Almost without thinking, he takes a step into the room.
“He’s doing just fine,” Dream says, now that George has confirmed he’s okay. “I’m being a little hard on him, but it’s nothing he can’t take. Nothing he doesn’t deserve.”
Sam isn’t sure when he makes the decision, but the next thing he knows he’s shutting the door behind him and moving to sit on the edge of the bed in Dream’s office, eyes still fixed on George.
“Good choice,” Dream says, turning the chair another inch or two so they’re fully facing Sam. The hand around George’s cock begins moving, up and down in slow, long strokes. Sam’s mouth goes dry at the sight.
For a while there’s no noise besides the sound of breathing, of Dream’s hand jerking George, of George’s little moans. The noises sear themselves into Sam’s brain, and he knows it will be a long time before he stops thinking of this. He’s starting to harden now, and he’s not sure if he should feel embarrassed or if this is welcome. Everything is so uncertain. He shifts a little in his seat, trying not to draw attention to himself.
“Dream,” George says after Dream has been jerking him for a while, voice pleading. Dream’s hand tightens and begins moving faster, tugging his cock with surprising speed. George writhes and twitches but can’t get away from the touch. Dream’s other arm is wrapped securely around his waist, holding him down, and George’s bound arms prevent him from pushing Dream away. “Dream, please, it’s enough, I need it.”
Dream hums and lowers his head to kiss along George’s neck, but says nothing. His hand keeps moving, showing no signs of slowing down. Sam stares, enraptured, as George’s body grows more and more tense, taut like a wire. He doesn’t miss the wild look in Dream’s eyes when George clenches tight around him. Dream isn’t moving his hips, isn’t fucking George at all, and Sam doesn’t know how he has the willpower with that tight heat around him.
Dream’s hand tugs at George over and over until suddenly, on some cue that Sam can’t see, he lets go, pulling his hand back and letting George’s cock flop onto his abdomen.
“No!” George shouts. He begins straining, thrashing around, but there’s not much he can do with his arms bound and Dream holding him in place. He tries to wriggle free, tries to pull an arm out of the bindings, but eventually just collapses back against Dream, whimpering.
“No, no, no, Dream please,” he babbles, whining as he flops his head back and forth against Dream’s shoulder.
Sam has never heard George like this, never thought he’d see the day that George begs for something. It’s fascinating, hypnotic. Sam can’t take his eyes off George. His cock is dark red, almost purple, and looks painful. Sam’s tried edging himself a few times, but never managed more than one round. From how George looks at this point, he can’t imagine how long they’ve been going.
“How many times?” he asks weakly. He can’t stop staring at George’s dick, still hard and leaking precome against his abdomen.
“That was the third,” Dream says. All his focus is on George now, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek and jaw, hand rubbing over his arms and chest in a soothing manner.
“Dear God,” Sam says.
George’s breathing is slowing back to normal. His eyes meet Sam’s from across the room and all Sam can see there is exhaustion.
“Hasn’t he had enough, Dream?” Sam asks. He’s rock hard in his pants now and doesn’t entirely want this to stop, but George looks like he’s near his limits.
“He’s got one or two left in him,” Dream says. George whimpers, and it’s the exact sound Sam had heard when he’d walked downstairs, the one that had drawn him into this room.
“Please,” George whispers. “Please, I need to come.”
Sam doesn’t think he’s ever heard George say please, but he’s also never seen him like this, fucked out, needy, and begging to come.
“Color?” Dream asks.
George whimpers again, but whispers, “Green.”
“Good boy,” Dream says. He presses a kiss to the side of George’s head and then slides his hand down to George’s dick. George winces when he touches it and Dream pauses.
“Ready?”
George bites his lip and nods. Dream takes hold and begins working him again, this time with slow and languid strokes.
As George settles back against Dream’s chest and relaxes, eyes closing, Dream’s eyes flick over to Sam.
“Are you enjoying the show?”
Sam’s mouth is dry. He wets his lips with his tongue as he nods. Dream laughs.
“I know you think I’m being mean, but he asked for this. Didn’t you George?”
Sam’s eyes flick from Dream to George, who pouts and shakes his head from side to side. Dream grins and nuzzles into George’s neck before speaking again.
“You did, and you know you did,” he says to George, gently admonishing, but voice full of fondness. He tilts his head to look over at Sam, addressing him again. “Don’t let George fool you. He’s getting what he deserves.”
“Dream,” George whimpers as Dream’s hand tightens around his cock for a moment, gently squeezing.
“He’s being punished,” Dream says to Sam, ignoring George’s whine. “I told him I needed to work, but he wouldn’t stop bothering me. So I let him sit on my lap.” Seeing the expression on Sam’s face, Dream laughs. “Yeah, sit on my lap is absolutely a euphemism. Anyway. He wouldn’t stop squirming, moving around, trying to distract me. I warned him what would happen if he didn’t stop, but he didn’t listen. So here we are.”
“Not fair. You’re not nice,” George murmurs. Dream squeezes his dick again in response and George hisses.
“It’s a punishment, it’s not meant to be nice. You earned it.”
“Do you,” Sam began. He coughs and clears his throat. He tries focusing on Dream instead of George, which helps him keep his head a little. “Do you do stuff like this often?”
“Not really,” Dream says. “Just when George needs extra attention.” Sam doesn’t miss the tiny smile that crosses George’s face. He realizes that, despite the protests and the whining, George is enjoying this. At least for now. Sam doesn’t want to know how he’ll feel about it after he’s been edged a few more times. Or maybe he does want to know.
While Dream’s attention is focused back on George, Sam casually grabs a pillow from the bed and places it over his lap. In theory, it’s meant to hide his raging boner, which is threatening to burst out of his pants from how hard he is. In practice, it’s really to get some pressure, some stimulation on said boner. Sam isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be able to watch without touching himself. It would be pretty embarrassing if he ended up coming before George.
George’s stamina is flagging, though. That much is obvious. Dream picks up speed and tightens his grip, tugging George closer and closer to the edge. It’s doesn’t take long, and suddenly Dream is letting go again, removing stimulation.
This time, George doesn’t thrash or squirm or beg. He just lays exhausted against Dream and cries. He’s released a few tears throughout the evening, but now he’s openly crying.
“George?” Dream asks, concern in his voice.
George just whimpers.
“Oh, baby,” Dream coos. He wraps his arms around George’s chest, holding him close. “Are you done now? Do you need it to be over?” Dream whispers. The questions are so soft and gentle, so intimate, that Sam wonders if he should be witnessing it. Somehow it seems more intrusive than anything he’s seen in the last 15 minutes.
George nods weakly. Dream’s hand cups his chin and his thumb brushes away the tears on his cheek.
“‘m done, please. Yellow,” he whispers. He turns to nuzzle his face into Dream’s neck.
“Okay, Georgie,” Dream says. “You’ve been so good. You’re always so good for me.”
At this point, Sam is ready to slip out of the room, except he’s so hard under this pillow that he doesn’t think he can walk anymore. He shifts his hips again, getting friction, and bites his lip to keep from making any noise. He’s been invited to watch, not to participate. He can wait.
Dream’s hands drop to George’s hips and gently lift him up and off Dream’s lap, to a standing position. As Dream’s dick slides out of him, George whines loudly.
“No, no,” he protests. “I want you inside.”
Dream stands from the chair and puts his arms around George.
“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “I’m just moving us. I’m gonna fuck you now, is that okay?” George nods his assent and Dream bends George forward, so his bound forearms are resting on the bed right next to Sam.
Sam stares. How could he not stare? George’s face is only inches away now and he can see everything. It’s puffy from tears and red from straining, but somehow that makes it even more gorgeous. He wants to reach out and touch his red, swollen lips, to tangle his fingers into George’s messy hair, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fist grabs hold of the pillow on his lap and squeezes. George’s eyes flick over to look at him for just a bare second, and Sam knows that George sees through him, knows how far this show is pushing him. The tiniest hint of a smirk plays on George’s lips.
Sam stops looking at George because it’s too much of a temptation and instead focuses on Dream. It’s not—it’s not better. He’s always been attracted to Dream, even before he knew what the man looked like. The voice, the presence, the skill. Once he had a face to pair with all of that, it only got worse. Sam is straight. He’s pretty sure he’s straight. But Dream has turned more than one straight man bi, and the sight has Sam asking a lot of questions about himself.
The vision in front of him is almost more than Sam can stand. The entire time George was on Dream’s lap, he was blocking the view. Now Dream’s standing tall, naked from the waist down, cock full and hard and proud. Sam licks his lips again and wonders not for the first time what it would taste like, how it would feel.
His view doesn’t last for long, because moments later Dream is sliding back inside George, letting out a hiss at the sensation. He holds George’s hips with one hand and the other rubs down George’s back.
“Gonna go fast, Georgie,” he says. “You have to hold on until I come, okay?”
“Okay,” George says, but it sounds weak and uncertain, like he’s not sure he has the willpower to make it that long.
As soon as he hears George’s approval, Dream begins moving. There’s no slow, steady build up. They’ve been building up for a while now. Dream’s hips begin jerking hard and fast, the sound of his skin slapping George’s ass filling the room. Sam stares at the place where Dream’s dick disappears into George. He slips a hand under the pillow and presses down on his own aching cock. He’s ready for this to be over now, and not for George’s sake. He needs to touch himself, needs to come, and he won’t do it in the middle of this scene, this sacred space where he’s been invited to watch.
It doesn’t last long. Dream was inside of George feeling the twitches, the clenches, and the wriggles for the entire time George was being edged. He doesn’t have any patience left. As he thrusts closer and closer to his own edge, he bends over George and presses kisses to the back of his neck and his shoulder.
“I’m gonna come soon,” he whispers. “You can too.”
The sound George makes is like nothing Sam has ever heard before. Within a few moments, Dream lets out a garbled fuck and stills as he comes inside of George. The sensation must be a sign to George to let go, because suddenly he’s shooting out hard. The come pours out of him, all over the bed, nearly reaching to the wall. George’s knees give out and Dream quickly grabs him around the waist to support him.
It takes a while, but George finally finishes coming. Sam has never seen so much emerge from a single person and he’s actually a little impressed. He’s also aching hard and kind of going crazy now.
Dream pulls out of George and steps back, scooping George into his arms.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” George is too out of it to respond, just hums and buries his face against Dream’s neck.
Dream doesn’t say a word to Sam, doesn’t offer a goodbye or anything. All of his attention is laser focused on George, holding him close and whispering to him as he carries him out of the room.
When they’re gone, Sam sits there quietly for a few moments, wondering if he should leave too. He’s so hard that he’s not certain he could make it all the way to his room. Anyway, the bed is already covered in come, and the room smells like sex. He might as well stay here.
Sam kicks a foot out to shut the door and then tosses the pillow aside. Moments later, his dick is in his hand and he’s tugging on it like his life depends on it. There’s enough precome that lube doesn’t even seem necessary—the glide is smooth. All too quickly, he’s coming hard. When he’s finished, gasping on the bed, Sam makes a promise to himself to never examine what happened in this room too closely. He doesn’t think—no, he knows—George and Dream don’t want anyone else. He doesn’t know why he was invited to watch, but it was definitely about their game with each other and not at all about him.
He cleans himself up and pulls his shorts back on before heading out. On his way back to his room he sees Dream in the kitchen, grabbing water bottles for himself and George. Their eyes meet briefly, but neither speaks. It’s Sam that finally looks away, nodding quickly at Dream before dashing out and back to his room.
The next day it’s like nothing ever happened at all, but Sam will never forget.