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George can’t keep the grin off his face.
“Oh, Dream…” He sing-songs, keeping half an eye on his surroundings as he follows the clear tracks left in the gravel. “Where are you, Dream?”
Up ahead, something shifts. George pivots immediately to shine his lantern toward the sound. He nearly dismisses it as an echo of his own footsteps, or perhaps a long-awaited chain reaction of gravity shifting a stone a few millimeters- but then he spots the gap.
It’s small. Barely wide enough for Dream to squeeze his way through, surely, but George knows he’ll fit easily with his smaller frame.
Only, he won’t need to.
Because George happens to know this cave pretty damn well, and he’s fully aware that the little gap leads almost immediately to a dead end.
Dream has just cornered himself, which means one of two things: he doesn’t know this particular cave, or he’s trying to lure George into a trap.
The latter is his first instinct. Dream rarely makes mistakes of this magnitude when they’re playing the Manhunt game, and even if he thought he could double back and slip out behind George, he’ll probably come up with some ridiculous hair-brained plot to get himself out of this situation. Then again, he just took out Bad, Sapnap, and Antfrost with a particularly clever trick involving an elaborate piston setup. There was open relief in his celebratory peals of laughter and smug taunting.
He seemed terribly surprised when George hauled himself back up onto solid ground from the edge of the pit. Most damning is how he turned and sprinted into the cave rather than facing George; Dream can best any of the four of them in one-on-one duels, and he knows it.
He must not have liked the look of George’s diamond sword and full set of armor.
So he took off, with George hot on his heels, and tried to vanish in the winding tunnels- but George knows these tunnels, and he knows how Dream thinks. He risked getting stuck when he squeezed through the gap. That speaks of desperation, of panic- it’s not a risk he would have taken with a hunter right on his tail unless he felt he had no other options, and if he wanted to set up a trap, he would have done so in one of the larger openings with more room to work with.
Still, it isn’t safe to try and engage Dream when he can’t see his environment beforehand. He’ll need the other hunters to make this gamble worthwhile- otherwise, he’d be handing over all of his hard-earned armor and weapons, not to mention the handful of ender pearls tucked away in his bag. But it’ll take the others at least half an hour to get back here, and that’s assuming they don’t dawdle or get lost.
George’s lips twist into a smile as he’s hit with an idea.
“Oh, Dream,” he calls. “I know you’re in there.”
There’s no response.
George draws his sword and skates the tip over the stones beside the gap. “You’re going to have to come out eventually, Dream. Might as well make it quick.”
Silence.
“How about… We make a deal?” George’s smile shifts into a grin. “If you come out of there and play, I won’t hurt you. I won’t even take your stuff- I’ll just let you leave. But you have to do whatever I say, first.”
It might be his imagination, but George could swear he senses a catch in breath.
“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. We can just wait here for the others to come, and then we’ll flush you out and kill you. It’s your choice.”
George shifts his weight around and shuffles a bit, making plenty of noise so Dream knows he’s right outside the gap and blocking his escape.
“I’ll let you think about it for a couple of minutes,” he says. “But this offer won’t last forever, so you’d better think quick, Dream.”
For about a minute, there’s nothing. Just George’s even breath, his heartbeat, and the soft ambience of the cave.
Then there’s a deliberate shuffling on the other side of the gap as someone pulls themself up from the floor.
George’s heart leaps with excitement. “Oh? Have we decided, then?” He leans into the stone beside the gap. “I’m a little sick of hearing your voice after you shouted all those nasty things when you thought you’d taken us all out, so I don’t think you’ll be using it. Instead, I want you to knock on the wall- once for yes, twice for no. Understand?”
After a long pause, there’s a single knock.
George’s jaw begins to ache from how wide his grin stretches. “Good boy. Are you going to take the deal?”
Another hesitation, then another single knock.
“Oh, I knew you would. You’re too smart not to, aren’t you, Dream?” George pushes off from the wall and sheaths his sword, but keeps a hand resting on the pommel. “Before you come out, let’s make the rules clear. If I hear you speak, the deal is off. If you try to attack or run, the deal is off. You have to do whatever I say until I’m satisfied, and then I let you go and wait five minutes before I follow.” He pauses. “All of that said, you’re of course still entitled to your safewords if you need them, and we’ll do nonverbal check-ins. Tapping out doesn’t violate the rules. Sound good?”
One knock.
“Good. Now toss all of your weapons through the gap. I won’t take them, but I don’t want you to have them.”
Something akin to an exasperated exhale comes from beyond the gap. Then there’s some shuffling, and a moment later, a stone sword, stone axe, and a bow that’s on the verge of falling apart are passed through. George eyes the pile with suspicion.
“All of your weapons, Dream.”
After a brief pause, an iron dagger lands neatly on the floor. George smirks and quickly deposits the weapons out of sight behind a rock.
“I know you don’t have much, but I want your armor off as well.”
More shuffling, accompanied by a small grunt of effort- then a chainmail chestplate and leather boot guards are passed through the gap. George tosses those to the side.
“Good. Now come through, but keep your hands where I can see them, and do not try to run.”
George positions himself so he’s blocking Dream’s escape just in case this has all been a ploy, but he highly doubts it’ll be necessary- if Dream wasn’t interested in playing, he wouldn’t have responded at all. Still, there’s a lingering paranoia that Manhunt always draws out of him that has George just the slightest bit on edge. It only adds to the little thrills of excitement and anticipation coiling in his gut.
He watches the gap with wide, eager eyes as Dream finally, finally emerges.
It’s the first proper look at him George has gotten in several hours. Flashes of green through the trees or a flicker of sunlight reflecting off of white ceramic have left him parched; he drinks in the full length of Dream’s body and allows the satisfaction he feels to color his expression.
Dream fidgets and squirms in place, hands held at his chest with his open palms out. One of his gloves is ripped.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” George says, tracing the lines of Dream’s hoodie with his burning gaze.
Dream ducks his head just the slightest bit in the way he always does when he’s embarrassed or flustered. George can’t read his expression with the mask, but he still knows Dream, and he can get a lot of information from body language alone.
“Show me your nonverbal check-ins,” George instructs.
Dream holds his right hand out and demonstrates a thumbs-up, an open palm, and a closed fist.
George hums in satisfaction. “And you’ll use them if you need to, won’t you?”
Dream nods, hands dropping to his sides.
“Good boy.” George takes a step closer, hand still on the pommel of his sword, and looks up to about where Dream’s eyes are behind the mask. “Get on your knees.”
Dream sinks down to the cave floor and tilts his head back to watch George.
“I said so earlier, but I really didn’t care for those nasty things you shouted when you thought we’d all fallen into your trap. That dirty mouth would be put to much better use doing something else.”
Dream’s shoulders hitch with his sharp inhale. He reaches up to tap his mask, then tilts his head in an unspoken question.
“Up to you,” George replies. “Either slide it out of the way or take it off completely. All I need is access to your mouth.”
In other circumstances, the mask would certainly come off. George can’t think of a single sight he likes more than Dream’s bleary, fucked-out expression after a scene. But they’re still playing Manhunt in addition to just playing, and Manhunt makes Dream much more sensitive about showing his face. He’s explained it before- the mask helps him to stay grounded, and it provides a layer of separation that acts as a buffer between his rational mind and his instincts- but George doesn’t really need to know the specifics. What matters is making sure Dream is comfortable with what they’re doing, so the choice will always be his, and George won’t ask him to remove it during the game.
Much to George’s delight, Dream immediately draws his hood back and removes the mask entirely. He sets it gingerly to the side before peeking up at George through his eyelashes.
He’s already flushed red. Even in the dim lantern light, Dream’s blown out pupils and wide, alert eyes are clearly visible.
George cups Dream’s jaw and runs his thumb over Dream’s lips. Dream immediately opens his mouth and lets George press his finger in, then seals his lips around it and sucks gently.
“Eager,” George hums, pressing down against Dream’s tongue. Dream’s eyes flutter shut and he leans into George’s hand with a soft exhale through his nose. “Even when I’m hunting you down, you’re still eager for me.”
A shiver passes down Dream’s spine and he nods, just enough to be perceptible.
George withdraws his hand from Dream and quickly unfastens the clasps on his armored leggings. There’s immediate delicious relief in decompressing the area beneath his belt, and George sighs and casts a lazy grin down at Dream.
“Already got me half hard,” he says. “Get me the rest of the way there, and then you can have my cock.”
Dream’s hands fly to George’s zipper, and he restrains a giddy laugh at the open display of neediness. Dream gets George’s dick out of his underwear at record pace and starts stroking near the tip with precise, practiced movements, thumbing over the slit and spreading precum over the head. He’s careful to use only his fingertips and avoid brushing the rough material of his gloves over George’s dick, and it sends a spark of fondness through the fog of lust clouding George’s mind. He bites his lip and moans, pushing his hips forward an involuntary inch to get closer to Dream. He imagines pressing into the wet, tight warmth of Dream’s mouth, just like he did with his finger a moment ago- imagines Dream going pliant beneath him, holding on to the backs of George’s thighs to keep from being pushed back as he pistons his hips- and Dream glances up at him, mouth hanging slightly open and breath rough and ragged-
And in no time at all, he’s fully hard.
“Put your hands behind your back, baby,” George orders
Dream complies immediately.
“Good boy. Keep them there.” He threads his fingers into Dream’s hair on either side of his head. Dream gazes up at him with lips slightly parted in anticipation, and it makes George grin even wider. “You know what I want, don’t you?”
Dream snorts softly and nods, a small smirk playing at his lips.
“Such a little cockslut, looking so pleased to suck me off. But let’s check in anyway. I want to fuck your mouth, baby. You can use one of your hands to show me-”
Dream is already flashing a thumbs-up.
George tightens his grip in Dream’s hair and tilts his head back a bit to get a better angle. “Good boy. Open up.”
Dream tucks his hand behind his back with the other and lets his jaw fall open about as wide as it can go, tongue lolled out and inviting. George wastes no time lining himself up and pressing into Dream’s mouth.
Dream’s eyes fall shut again and George slides the head along his tongue, moving further and further back until the tip of Dream’s nose hits George’s pelvis. He sits there for a moment and processes the electric pleasure, and then Dream’s brows scrunch up the slightest bit- a gesture George has enough experience fucking Dream to know to interpret as ‘need air soon.’ So he draws back, keeping his molasses pace, until that little crease disappears and Dream’s face relaxes again.
When he presses in for a second time, he moves faster. Then faster still. George works quickly up in pace and hits a familiar groove where Dream works out the rhythm and flicks his tongue up to tease over the edge before flattening out to make room as he goes back in. George pants and swears under his breath as the pleasure continues building and mixing with the excitement of their circumstances- of knowing the others are actively coming, of knowing Dream is cornered prey, of seeing how willing Dream is to surrender himself to George in this way even so.
“Pretty boy,” George pants, scraping his nails down Dream’s scalp. Dream inhales sharply and glances up at George before shifting to lean deliberately into the biting pressure. George lets out a dark chuckle and does it again, reveling in how Dream twitches and jerks under his fingers in response. “God, look at you- such a desperate slut, managing to beg even with a cock in your mouth. You’ll really just take whatever I give you, huh?”
Dream meets George’s gaze, then shuts his eyes and sucks down as George pushes in again, making an obscene slurping sound echo through the cavern.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect you put yourself in this position on purpose,” George continues. “Letting me corner you in a cave like this just so I would use you like the little fuck toy you are. But I know you, baby, and I know how you love to win.”
George pulls back until just the tip is resting in Dream’s mouth, then waits for Dream to make eye contact again before continuing to thrust down his throat.
“It must be a struggle for you to be good for me- to ignore your competitive side and obey. But you do it for me anyway, because you’re such a good boy.”
Dream’s entire body shudders at that, and George pulls out of Dream’s mouth and grins at the very visible bulge in his pants. Dream’s mouth hangs open and a string of saliva drips down over his chin and onto the cave floor. George wipes it away with his thumb.
“That was definitely good,” George says, continuing to run his thumb over Dream’s chin. “But I don’t think you’ve quite learned your lesson. I think it’ll take a dick in your ass to really drive the point home. What do you think?”
Dream glances back over his shoulder, fingers twitching.
“Good boy,” George murmurs. “You can use your hands again.”
Dream looks thoughtful for a moment, then mimes spitting into his hand and making a jerking motion. He raises his eyebrows.
George follows the unspoken question. “I have lube.”
Dream blinks a couple of times, then shakes his head the slightest bit before meeting George’s gaze again with a goofy grin and holding out a thumbs-up.
George glances around and smiles as he spots a shelf of rock that will work for what he has in mind. “Up,” he says, tugging at Dream’s hair. Dream scrambles to his feet and waits with his head bowed for his next order.
George links their fingers together and guides Dream to a rock formation jutting out from the wall at about waist-height. There’s a small slope leading down to it, gentle enough that it’s no trouble to keep your balance but tall enough to give George the leverage he needs. He leads Dream to stand in front of the shelf and presses a hand between his shoulder blades until Dream realizes what he’s after and allows himself to be pushed down against the top of it.
“Hands behind your back again, baby. Cross your wrists- yeah, exactly like that. Good boy.”
He slots his hand over Dream’s overlapping wrists and grins. Oh, yes, this will definitely work.
George leans to press himself against Dream’s back while he reaches around to unbutton his pants. “You’ve been behaving so well for me. Keep this up and I might even let you cum.”
Dream inhales sharply and presses back against George, fingers flexing and twitching. George finishes unbuttoning Dream’s pants and hooks his fingers around both his pants and boxers, then tugs them down halfway to Dream’s knees. He ghosts his nails over Dream’s thighs and grins at the gaspy little breath that earns him.
Reaching into his bag, he rifles around blindly until he finds the bottle he wants- an unobtrusive little thing with a rubber stopper. George withdraws the vial and pulls out the top, which he tucks in his pocket, then coats one hand liberally in the slick lubricant.
He gives no warning before sliding a finger all the way into Dream. Dream jerks forward and gasps, clamping down around George momentarily, then relaxes and settles back into his previous position. George sets the vial off to the side and grabs Dream’s hip with his free hand to hold him still as he strokes and curls his finger. When George prods at Dream’s entrance with a second finger, Dream inhales sharply and tries to push back encouragingly.
George releases Dream’s hip to slap the bare skin of his ass with enough force to make a satisfying impact echo through the cavern. Dream jumps and shuffles, tucking his head down into the rock.
“Sit still, whore," George orders. “You’ll get nothing more than what I give you.”
Dream goes completely still beneath him, and George resumes his teasing with a wicked grin. With his free hand, George traces the handprint blooming to life on Dream’s ass, and Dream sucks in air through grit teeth and jerks the slightest bit at the touch.
George’s brows furrow, and his hand stills. “Dream, baby,” he says, much softer. “Did you reenable pain?”
Dream glances back at George over his shoulder and the bright red flush stretching all the way to his ears is answer enough.
George sighs fondly and shakes his head. “You are so naughty. Normally I’d have to punish you for not asking permission, but I didn’t really give you a chance to, so I suppose I’ll let it slide this time. But you’d better leave it on until we’re finished here or you tap out. Seem agreeable?”
Dream turns away to face forward again, apparently too embarrassed to make eye contact with George as he holds his thumbs up. George rolls his eyes- his fingers are literally inside of Dream right now. They’re a bit past the point of being embarrassed by admitting what they like; and besides, he’s already fully aware of how Dream gets off on the little bites of pain from hickeys or fingernails digging into his skin or not being stretched quite enough. George continues tracing his fingers over the pink shadow of his hand while he pumps in and out of Dream with the other.
Dream starts to shake a bit under him, so George presses a third finger in and carefully scissors them. One pass lands close to the area George has consciously avoided thus far. Dream whimpers, then freezes, even going so far as to hold his breath.
George blinks in confusion for a moment, and the comprehension dawns. “You can use your voice, baby. I just don’t want to hear any words.”
As soon as George finishes speaking, Dream opens his mouth and lets out the most absurdly wanton and indecent moan he’s ever heard. The sound is packed with several minutes of what George now realizes must have been iron-gripped self control on Dream’s part- he’s incredibly vocal during any sexual encounter, but even more so when they’re playing. Yet thus far he’s been quiet as a mouse. George had assumed it was a product of Manhunt keeping Dream in the mindset of making as little sound as possible, but-
George bites his tongue. He’s annoyed with himself for failing to connect Dream’s unusual silence with his own vague orders; it’s not like Dream could ask for clarification. He was just trying to be good. Succeeding, even when George slapped him hard enough to bruise with no warning. He’ll have to make it up to Dream by showing him a damn good time- but right this second, he needs to make sure Dream knows he didn’t do anything wrong.
George strokes and curls his fingers inside of Dream and leans forward against him to murmur into his ear, “Good boy. Such a good boy for me. It must have been so difficult to keep quiet like that- I’m amazed you lasted as long as you did, baby. You’ve earned a reward.”
Dream shudders and whimpers under the praise, as he usually does. George stands back upright and pulls his fingers out of Dream, careful to keep his other hand on Dream’s hip so Dream knows exactly where he is.
“I think I’ll let you pick what position to get fucked in. Does that sound like a good reward?”
Dream’s head snaps up and he cranes his neck to nod vigorously. George bites his tongue and grins.
“Go ahead and move how you want us then, baby.”
Dream stands and kicks off one of his boots, then tugs his pants down to his knees and pulls that leg free. He glances around, then pulls his hoodie off over his head and lays it out on the rock shelf before hopping up onto it and shimmying forward until his bare ass is practically hanging off of the edge. He crosses his wrists above his head and leans up just enough to meet George’s eyes and nod.
George moves quickly to settle between Dream’s legs. Dream’s dick is fully hard and leaking onto his shirt, but George pays it no mind, instead leaning down to press a kiss to the underside of Dream’s jaw and smiling into his skin when he hums pleasurably.
He settles back and tugs Dream’s bare leg up over his shoulder. “Is this what you want?” He asks, half to check in and half to tease.
Dream shuts his eyes and nods firmly, then lets his head fall back softly against the rock.
George retrieves the vial and slicks up his dick, then aligns himself with Dream and pushes into him.
They let out twin moans.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” George hisses.
It’s nearly enough to overwhelm him when his pelvis sits flush with Dream’s body. George grounds himself with a couple of deep breaths, then peers down at Dream’s face. His head is tilted back and he’s flushed red all the way down to his shirt collar. His mouth hangs open and his eyes are shut. Loose hair hangs in his face from where it came out of the clips he uses to ensure it’s out of the way during Manhunt.
George probably contributed to that with how much he’s had his hands in Dream’s hair. Ah, well. It’s a hazard Dream accepted with the rest of this deal.
George digs the fingers of one hand into Dream’s hip and slips the other up his shirt as he starts to move inside of him. His hands pass over the flat, toned planes of Dream’s stomach and up to his pectorals, where he traces carefully over a nipple with his nails.
Dream inhales sharply and moans, pinning his lower lip between his teeth. The moan picks back up and raises pitch when George snaps his hips forward roughly. Dream’s lips move as if to form speech- but he seems to catch himself, and lets his breath out as an amorphous keen instead.
George wouldn’t admit it in the moment, but he might miss Dream talking just a tiny bit. But only because of how he spills his reverence, like George is something holy and deserving of absolute devoted worship. He’ll sing George’s name like a prayer for the simple act of a hand around his throat.
And he’ll laugh with unrestrained glee when he destroys hours of the hunters’ work by dropping them into a burning pit.
George shakes off the softness and starts fucking Dream properly, letting the slap of their skin meeting fill the empty space where words might otherwise be. Dream twitches and writhes under him. His cries of pleasure fill George with an animalistic satisfaction; for all of Dream’s formidable talent in fighting and racing through the world, George can still turn him into this- a flushed, sweaty, desperate mess of a man willing to throw aside a game he loves winning just to submit to George’s orders.
With every snap of his hips, George’s mind echoes, mine, mine, mine. You’re mine. He reels, suddenly dizzy from the intensity of it. Dream whines at George’s slowed pace and he remembers himself- he has a very needy man to take care of and a ticking clock marking the seconds until reinforcements arrive. The feelings can be tucked away until the game is over and he’s given reprieve from the cycle of adrenaline crashes.
George slides Dream’s leg off of his shoulder and secures his hips with both hands, then starts thrusting forcefully into him. Dream hooks his ankles behind George’s back and squeezes against him with his thighs.
“Pretty boy,” George purrs. “Maybe I should take out the others myself the next time we have you cornered, if this is how you act when we’re all alone.”
Dream keens and nods enthusiastically. George laughs, dark and pleased.
“So good to me, baby. Such a perfect little fuck toy.”
Dream cracks his eyes open to meet George’s gaze and deliberately rocks his hips back in time with George’s thrusts. George laughs breathlessly and leans into Dream to reach up and press his palm into Dream’s cheek. Dream moves into the touch and tightens the vice-grip of his thighs around George’s middle, a soft stream of nonsense spilling from his lips.
George pitches his hips up in angle and fucks deeper into Dream. He’s not gonna last much longer- the heat has been steadily building in his stomach for a while now, and Dream’s perfect little gasps and moans in combination with the sight of him writhing and shaking in pleasure beneath George have him more than a bit worked up. He spares a glance down at Dream’s neglected cock, still flushed and leaking and bouncing slightly with the motion of their movements. There’s a noticeable wet spot growing in size on his shirt from the precum. An idea hits him, and George has to fight to restrain the pleased laugh that builds in his throat.
He runs his hands down Dream’s chest and settles them back at his hips over the familiar fading bruises that never quite heal before George renews them. “Gonna cum soon, baby,” George pants. “You’ve got me all worked up.”
Dream’s lips twitch up. He takes extra efforts to move with George, clenching around him as he pulls out and relaxing again as he pushes back in.
“Fuck,” George hisses. “Fuck- you feel amazing, Dream. So good.”
Dream pins his lower lip under his teeth and begs wordlessly with his entire body. It pushes George close enough that he pulls all the way out and takes his cock in hand.
“I’m not gonna cum inside,” he explains when Dream’s eyes fly open and he makes a questioning sound, pelvis stuttering and twitching up into the empty air in search of stimulation. “Would make it a lot harder for you to run, later.”
The explanation settles Dream’s confusion and he relaxes. George reaches for Dream and tugs him upright by his hair, then slides his hand to cup the back of Dream’s neck and pulls him in for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss while he pumps his cock. Dream has the height advantage now that he’s sitting up, but he remains submissive to George’s will and lets him guide the press of their tongues, even when his technique breaks down a bit as he nears the edge. George finally releases Dream’s mouth and sinks his teeth into the side of his neck as he cums all over Dream’s shirt.
George plants a hand on the rock shelf to hold himself stable until his legs stop threatening to buckle under him. Then he looks up to meet Dream’s gaze- half-lidded, clouded with lust, and distinctly unfocused in that way he always gets when they play like this.
“You wanna cum, pretty boy?” George asks, nosing up to Dream’s throat to kiss the spot where he just left two fine rows of teeth marks.
Dream moans and nods.
“Okay,” George says. “Lie back.”
Dream complies immediately, even crossing his wrists back above his head without having to be told.
“Good boy,” George praises, running his hands up Dream’s bare thighs. He shivers under the touch and shuts his eyes, dick twitching desperately. A bit of George’s cum landed on the shaft.
George resists the urge to wipe it away, instead retrieving the lube and coating his fingers again.
“I’m not going to touch your cock. If you’re gonna cum, it’s gonna be from this.” He presses three fingers into Dream’s twitching hole and immediately seeks out his prostate.
Dream whimpers and keens, clenching down against George’s fingers, but he doesn’t try to push back against George to get more friction; evidently he learned his lesson. George rewards him by fanning his fingers over Dream’s prostate in a wave, over and over. Dream’s jaw falls slack and breathless, broken sounds fill the air.
“Does that feel good, baby?”
Dream nods and bites his lip.
“Show me. Show me how good it feels. Cum for me, Dream.”
Dream’s face goes somehow redder and his expression tightens in concentration. Cumming without having his dick touched is something he can do with enough focus, so George continues his relentless massaging against Dream’s prostate and murmurs filthy praise to help him along.
Dream cums with a stuttering cry. He jolts and thrusts into the air, inadvertently pushing George’s fingers further into his ass and only intensifying the sensations for himself. George doesn’t let up until the last bit of cum spills onto Dream’s shirt, and then he pushes a bit longer anyway, slowing only when Dream’s brows pinch and he whimpers pathetically.
George withdraws his hand and hops up alongside Dream on the rock shelf so he can bend down and kiss him. “My good boy,” he murmurs into Dream’s lips. “You did so well. I’m so proud of you.”
He’d be perfectly content to lie down next to Dream and just hold him for a while, but George makes himself get back up- tucking himself away and resecuring his pants and armor as he goes- and dig around in his bag, lying abandoned on the ground, until he finds his clock. He squints at it in the dim lamplight, then barks out a startled laugh.
“You’ve got maybe five minutes, Dream,” George says, tucking the clock back in his bag.
Dream’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright. “What?!”
“We were fucking for, like, half an hour. The others will be here soon.”
Dream swears and scrambles to his feet, hopping around on one leg as he tugs his underwear and pants back on, heedless of the cum still drying on his soft cock. George watches with open amusement for a moment, then strolls to retrieve Dream’s weapons and armor. He sets them in a neat pile next to Dream while he frantically turns his hoodie inside out and pulls it on. Dream nearly trips over his unlaced boot as he grabs for his mask, but George catches his arm and helps him back upright.
“Jesus fucking christ,” Dream mutters, dropping down to a kneel to relace the boot. He flinches and waves his fingers in a short cue George recognizes as disabling pain. “Did you have to fuck me that hard, George?”
George grins. “I’m cutting you a pretty sweet deal. It was only fair.”
“A sweet deal,” Dream repeats, voice thick with performative annoyance. “You somehow manage to escape my perfect trap, and then chase me into this stupid cave with no loops-”
“You’re the one who cornered yourself,” George gleefully points out. “That was practically an invitation.”
Dream shoots him a dirty look that might have been worrying were it not for the clear affection simmering just beneath it. “You’re an idiot,” he declares fondly.
Dream finishes lacing up his boot and quickly pulls his mask back on before scooping up his weapons and donning his armor. George leans back against the cavern wall and watches him, a small, satisfied smile playing at his lips.
Dream starts toward the cave exit, then pauses. “What, uh… What are you gonna tell them?” he asks.
George shrugs. “That you got away.”
“Won’t they give you shit for that?”
“If they do, I’ll just remind them why I was on my own hunting you in the first place.”
Dream snorts and nods.
He fidgets for a moment, clearly working out how to say something. George waits patiently.
“...That was fun,” he eventually settles on. “We, uh. I wouldn’t mind if- if that happened again, I guess.”
George smirks. “Get out of here, pretty boy,” he says, fondness dripping from his voice.
Dream watches him for a moment longer, then gives a small wave, turns, and disappears into the darkness. George listens to his quiet footsteps echo until he’s alone in the ambience of the cave.