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He sits. She sits.
The back pressed against a willow tree, legs stretched out as the eyes open to gaze up at him. He looks like he belongs. She looks like she owns the realm. The body shifts between strong shoulders and soft hips, but the mischief in the eyes and that sharp canine smile is all the same. Long hair shortens into a messy fringe, sharp cheekbones soften and lips plumpen before the cleft of the chin returns. Like the awful creature he’s always been, he sticks his nose in business he could never begin to understand, and like the saviour that she is, there is wisdom that could rival his own. Their human and godly ideals have intermixed into one all-encompassing sense of justice and forgiveness and duty; willpower so mulish that it stumped him within his own realm for longer than he’d like to admit.
Morpheus stands with his arms folded behind his back, having finally caught Hal Jordan within The Dreaming. Hal Jordan, who smiles at him with a sharp jaw and batting eyelashes. His nostrils flare despite himself; even in death, the arrogance stays with him.
“Took you long enough,” The voice doubles. A playful tenor and an alluring alto, both of them purring deep in the shared chest. “I was starting to think I was doing too good of a job hiding from you.”
He purses his lips together. “You were trying to hide?”
“Not really.” Of course not. Hal had always been so painfully human, thirsty for a single lick of his attention. Preening under his adoration, reveling in the fact that he could bring an Endless to his knees despite it. Everything mortal and fleeting and ordinary that he now isn’t. “Which means that you were avoiding me, then. What gives?”
Morpheus tilts his head, an unimpressed brow raising. “I had to make sure it was you. You’ve…changed.”
Hal throws her head back in laughter. Her hair, chestnut and as thick as it always has been, cascades down her back. Her frame softens, grows narrower as her collarbones sharpen and her lips become fuller. Her chest heaves with her breaths, dips and valleys that had not been there before arching into each rise and fall. She looks down at him once more, and while her features are delicate, the sharpness of her grin is the same he’s always known. It’s reckless and dangerous and thrice as enticing now that she holds so much more power in her hands.
“What? This old thing?” She looks down at her body, raising both brows like she hadn’t quite noticed the change. He guesses she most probably didn’t. Both parts were equally Hal; male and female, human and spectre. “Neat, isn’t it? Softer, quicker, limber; makes me feel better than I thought I ever could.”
Interesting. His brown must tick in slight surprise because, when Hal laughs once again, the hair shortens and the chest hardens. The shoulders broaden and the solid muscles fill in the sheer robes he wears. The sound is sharper and harsher, charming like the cleft on his chin and the way his brows grow darker and thicker. That heavy, calculating gaze settles on his body once more.
“Don’t get me wrong, he’s alright too. Useful, strong. Gets the job done. Always has, hasn’t he?” There’s a degree of separation in the way the body speaks. It is a separate entity as much as it’s part of a whole; a human and a god at once. Nothing quite like Morpheus has ever seen before. “It’s quite the system.”
He chuckles, head shaking in disbelief. “You have a system?”
“Something like that.”
Morpheus waits for him to elaborate, but all Hal does is close his eyes and tilt his head back against the willow’s trunk. He watches him with curiosity, an itch that annoys him more than he’d care to admit. It’s not the specter that he wants to ask about. There is something about it that he recognizes. Like the power had been cut from the same cloth as his own, intrinsically bound by millenia of age and wisdom.
The silence spans between them. Hal Jordan has nothing to say. He keeps his mouth shut and his head resting against the tree trunk, enjoying the breeze like he’s back in California rather than seated within The Dreaming. The body keeps flickering between both forms. Long hair and an elegant neck, thick thighs and sturdy hips, lips that part into a grin when Morpheus realizes that he’s been staring. Her eyelashes bat against the softness of her cheek as she opens one of her eyes to stare right back at him. The muscles in his arms flex as he folds them behind his head.
“Go on. You finally caught me, and I finally let you catch me. Speak”
Morpheus sighs, tightening his jaw. Of course, foolish of him to assume that Hal Jordan would ever act without intention. He dares step closer to the body. It flickers between both forms, enticing him. Miles and miles of soft, sun-kissed flesh shaping itself into different forms of itself. Hal must know that it calls to him. She knows too much. He knows him too well.
“I cannot have you meddling with my responsibilities. You know this.” Hal’s grin broadens. “But it would mean nothing to you if I asked you to stop, wouldn’t it?
“You know me so well,” Hal purrs. Her voice is sweet, one delicate hand falls upon the valley of her chest. Morpheus has to force his eyes to rest upon hers and nothing else. “Would you believe me if I said I have to do it? Not really my choice, if you think about it.”
“But it is.”
“And it isn’t.” He stands, changed. When he was living, Hal would never have permitted himself to wear such delicate fabrics. His life never permitted such things. Now, he is barely covered by silks that flow freely in the breeze. They envelop the body, covering the strong chest and tightening around his hips and the dip of his waist. But the middle of the abdomen is exposed for his eyes to take in. The flesh ripples between harsh, carved lines and a soft, welcoming valley. “How else do you expect me to reach those who are looking to be redeemed, Morpheus? I cannot be everywhere all at once.”
“But you can.” His voice stays level, though his eyes fall. Not because he is weak but because he knows this body. He’s missed it. He recognizes the sharp dip of the v-line leading down to the pelvis. He remembers the flex of his arms, the strength of his back. The way the vein in his neck pops when he’s tense. “And that’s why you’re here tonight, and not with them where you’re supposed to be. You got tired of waiting, didn’t you? I cannot believe you let yourself forget that I, too, can see your dreams, Hal Jordan.”
She laughs. A sound that’s as cutting as a blade and just as beautiful. He’s got her now, as his brow barely ticks upwards and his head tilts. Her hand reaches for him, sinking her fingers into the flesh covered by his robe. The touch stings like a star collapsing against the skin. He wants more of it. He would never allow anyone to touch him like this, but when have any of his rules ever applied to Hal?
In the blink of an eye, they’re no longer in The Dreaming.
“My Sanctuary," he confirms, mere seconds later. The hand peels away from his arm, he catches the glimpse of the line where the ring had once rested on his skin. “I think it’s only fair I level the playing field.”
Morpheus laughs, an odd sound that only Hal has ever managed to pull out of him before. He’s amused. Even now, something about the words and the set of his jaw is so entirely human. It reminds him of who he was before he was a host. A vessel, a ghost. Whatever it is that Hal has been turned into now.
A savior. The one who will redeem every soul.
“I’m just as powerful here as I am anywhere else, Jordan.” She circles around him. His sturdy chest presses against his back. The swell of her breasts brushes against his side. He smirks at him with the foolish arrogance of a mortal. Her nails sink into his waist with the haughtiness of an ancient god.
“You’d dare disrespect a god within her own realm? How improper of you, Dream. Wars have been waged over much less.”
He smiles. A small, private, amused little thing. “Is that what you’re going to do? Wage war against me?”
Hal clicks his tongue, seeming unamused and unsurprised when Morpheus just barely tips his chin down towards him. Her hand settles on his chest. Her skin was unnaturally cool, but each point of contact a nova of its own. “I should.”
“But you won’t.”
“I won’t?”
Morpheus straightens again, folding his hands behind his back. His eyes follow after Hal, watching as the body shifts between both states of being. Male, female, soft hands, strong forearms, supple breasts, a hard abdomen. That same golden skin, smattering of freckles, the bright emerald of the eye. The chestnut hair, short and long and then short again, still smelling of ozone and leather.
“The dreams of a new god are still dreams, Hal Jordan. I know why you brought me here.”
“And you’re not going to indulge me?”
“Why should I?”
Hal tilts her chin down as she laughs, her smile giddy and her eyes alight. Even a being of her power is fond of an easy back and forth. The sort of flirting that her human counterpart was so adept in. The kind that reeks of his foolish charm despite the sharpness of her gaze.
“So that I’ll stop sticking my face in your business,” he murmurs. The strong nose brushes against his own, Morpheus breathes out a chuckle against the skin of his hollowed cheeks.
“You’re not going to do that,” he murmurs back as her eyes find his gaze. There was a glow to them that wasn’t there before; the northern lights or, perhaps more fittingly, solar flares. “That was never the plan. You’re not going to fool me that easily.”
Morpheus let out an amused breath as she deflates before him, rounding him with a soft hand settled on his shoulders. “I’m not?”
Her voice carries a meager attempt at innocence. His, a teasing purr against the shell of his ear. Though he couldn’t see them, he could feel them both; two long lines of inhuman heat pressed along the line of his back and his side. One strong hand reaching for his chest, a delicate one rising up to trace down the line of his jaw. His laughter, and her laughter, echoing in his ears. Morpheus allows himself to close his eyes.
Rookie mistake, really. “Even now, you’re as subtle as a pipe to the face, Jordan.”
Hal doesn’t give him so much as a second to breathe. Visions– dreams, as vivid as memories– overwhelmed his every sense; the taste of her mouth on his tongue, his hands carving bruises into his skin, her sweet cries in his ears, the scent of his musk and sweat heavy in the air.
Morpheus can see himself with her. With him. With them. The dreams that Hal had been orchestrating for months now, a tale spun whenever there was a lull in the duty and rest was something allowed. Her sweat, his spit, the sound of his voice in his own ears; he watches as they play him like an instrument, Hal’s body– bodies– always so lithe and strong against his own.
The torture does not end when he cracks his eyes open.
She isn’t any better, and, if anything, he’s worse.
A blur of bodies and sensations assault from every possible angle. Her teasing, his praise, long nails raking down his side, strong fingers digging into his hips; two sets of lips pressing against the skin of his neck, trailing down the line of his jaw, both voices whispering in his ears as they hold back laughter.
“Don’t you want it?” She asks as the image of her lips trailing down his chest flashes behind his eyelids. “I know you dream about it too.” The gravel in his voice makes Morpheus’ jaw tighten; it only does further as he pictures Hal lapping up his thighs. A flurry of hands– as solid and real as a god’s hands might be– push the image away, returning him to both their voices singing in his ears. “Why make me wait? You’re so cruel, Morpheus. So cruel. And to think that I’ve been waiting for so l–”
“That’s enough.” His voice echoes. In his chest, in both their heads, within the dreams Hal keeps projecting behind their eyelids. “Enough, Hal Jordan.”
His hand reaches out into the blur of chestnut hair, golden skin, and emerald eyes. A hand closes around the jaw, holding the body in place as it settles back. His thumb presses between the lips as the jaw, eyes, and mouth flicker. Soft and sharp, sharp and soft, male and female and back again; he presses against the tongue with force and then watches with a smile as the features finally settle into her face. Just like she used to when she was human, her lips close around the tip of his thumb. The look in her eyes spells trouble, rebellion, the inherent need to fight against any form of authority who tries to raise her voice at her; not that Morpheus holds any authority over a being as old and powerful as she.
The warmth of her mouth is just like he remembers it to be. An inferno of moisture and heat and pressure, a slight scrape of her teeth against the pad of his thumb that she soothes over with her playful tongue. She swallows around the digit, pushes her jaw further into the palm of his hand as she sucks more of his skin into her mouth. Those glowing eyes find the stars in his, and he has no need to close them to know what she’s picturing.
Morpheus remembers the dream she’s referring to: Hal’s body kneeling before his, pale hands curling into chestnut strands, soft lips and a sharp jaw working his cock until he’s pulling the face tight against his pelvis. The throat working around him, hums sending vibrations down the line of his back.
“Greedy.”
Hal laughs, the sound muffled around his fingers as he pushes her with force. The body shifts as the back hits a bed; one that wasn’t there before, but the plush sheets and cushions shape themselves around Hals’ broad shoulders. He pushes Morpheus’ hand away from his face but keeps his fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. Eyelashes kiss the tops of his cheekbones as he leans in, licking a line up the side of his thumb. He presses a kiss to the knuckle; they’re rougher despite the plushness, inherently male like the twinkle in his eyes.
“It’s working.” He shoots back, one strong arm holding his body up. One strong leg hooks around Morpheus’ hip, the heel of his foot pressing down on the small of his back and forcing him to lean over Hal. His eyes dip down, watching as the flowing silks shift.
The sharp cut of the v-line is replaced by the soft roundness of a full hip. The muscle of the thigh smoothens, the skin devoid of thick hair and replaced by soft peach fuzz. The skin shapes itself around his fingers as they dig down into her skin. Hal is grinning at him like a dog with a treat when he looks back up at her face.
“I said enough, Hal.” She scoffs. Arrogant, self-assured, arching her back with the confidence of a venerated spirit.
She lifts a chestnut brow, wrapping a soft hand around his face. It’s devoid of the callouses he’s grown to know and memorize. The nails are longer, digging into the skin of his jaw. Hal pulls him down, enough for their noses to brush. For her to breathe against the skin of his lips, parting her own into a smile. The soft air is moist against his mouth, hers shaped into a gasp as she pushes an image into both their minds. Her legs spread, nails digging into his back, sweat dripping down his brow and into the hollow of her collarbones. In dreams, Morpheus bends down to lick it away.
“Come on.” His voice is rough, the hint of stubble scraping against the skin of his cheek. “Fuckin’ give it to me, Dream.”
Morpheus’ hands find the middle, the hips, trace up the planes of the chest. He doesn’t dare pull the silk away from the skin, but he can feel the way the swell of breasts melts away into full pectorals and back. The gasp that he pulls from Hal’s lips when he massages the skin all the same is both sweet and raw. He looks up, just in time to watch as chestnut hair flows down the back like a waterfall. The jaw softens, lashes fluttering as he closes his eyes. She pushes her chest into the palms of his hands.
“Behave.” He pinches her side. A hand, masculine, bats him away. “Is that so hard?”
Hal snorts, rolling green eyes at him as the image floods his senses. He feels the plush bed pressed against his face as a hand tightening into the strands of his hair. A hand is digging bruises into his skin, solid hips slamming against his own and pushing him further and further up into the cushions.
Morpheus blinks slowly, unimpressed. “–a fucking god, Morpheus. Fuck right off.” He tunes back into Hal’s voice spitting up at him. The haughty, venomous tenor that he remembers meeting who knows how long ago.
He watches with concealed awe as the body flashes before his eyes. Even in godhood, Hal’s mind moves at a thousand miles per minute and the body reacts to it; male, female, soft eyes and a strong jaw, long hair and thick biceps, a broad back and a pair of breasts that subtly rise with each breath. Two voices blend into one as they curse, spit, and keep monologuing to high hell and back. Morpheus smiles to himself, happy to watch but even more so to reach past the silks and clamp his fingertips against each nipple.
She arches immediately, hair falling into her face as she presses her face against the pillows. Her hands reach for his, mouth parted in a gasp as he twists meanly. “Focus, Hal.”
“Asshole.” Barely a gasp.
“How crass,” he murmurs, leaning over her face. He smiles into the joint of her jaw, chuckling into her ear as she hisses. His teeth drag against the skin. “How improper.”
Hal retaliates, just as he expects her to. The image of her pressing her chest against his mouth, holding him in place by the hair. He holds her up by the back of the thighs, hips snapping up as she hops on his cock. Her mouth parted in a loose, self-satisfied grin.
For that, Morpheus twists his fingers further, humming as she keens. Her nails dig into the skin of his hands, just enough for it to have a bite. Sighing, Morpheus releases the pink buds and watches as her back collides with the mattress once more. Her cheeks dust themselves faint pink, making her skin glow against the silks. Green eyes find his, those same hands reaching into his hair and pulling him down to smash their lips together. Hal groans into his mouth as he laps at that deep, warm tenor he memorized long ago.
“I’m going to kill you,” Hal whispers against his lips. The mouth parts in soft pants, chasing after him as Morpheus traces the hard jawline with his tongue and teeth. “I could. I have the power to do that now. Wouldn’t that be fun? I could- Morpheus, fuck!”
A whine into the open air. He’s trailed down, peppering open-mouthed kisses against the body he remembers and the body he’s discovering now. Teeth dig into the skin of the collarbones with the intent to hurt, to snap Hal out of the little rant he’s never going to hear the end of he doesn’t stop it now. The waist and hips he pins against the mattress, holding with enough strength to watch the skin mold around the fingers and start to pale and bruise. Hal writhes into it as much as away from it, head tilting back in a string of soft “ah, ah, ah” as he tests out how meanly he can keep biting down. It’s not until he barely feels the skin give that he pulls back.
“Jerk.” Hal huffs as he laps over the indent of his teeth. He sucks the abused skin into his mouth. “Shit, please.” Distantly, Morpheus wonders if the skin still bruises like it used to when the body was mortal.
“Please.” He trails downwards, lapping over the protruding bones of the collarbone. As his teeth sink into the swell of the pectorals, a strong hand finds the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please.” He doesn’t stop there, circling one pebbled nipple with the tip of his tongue. Flicks his eyes up, watches the exact moment as the head tilts back with a groan. The same that sweetens into a honeyed cry, the muscle rounding into a breast.
Morpheus laughs to himself, blows over the glistening nipple before he moves on to the opposite. He nips, laps, kisses, sucks; anything to keep dragging sweet little sounds from Hal’s parted lips.
“Use your hands,” Hal hisses. Another strong leg wraps itself around his hips, pulling his lower body down. Hard. Enough to bunch him closer, making their hips press together. Morpheus can feel him even without grinding down. “Anything. You’re killing me here.”
He’s hard against the jut of his hip.
“Not yet.” It’s hard to fight back a smile as she shifts once more, long hair pooling around her shoulders as she bares her teeth up at him. “Patience, Hal, I believe you’ve heard of it.”
He waits, just enough for her to bristle at the words. She parts her lips, breathing in deep to run her mouth, and it’s his tongue and fingers that shut her up. His hands, long having left her waist, trail between her parted thighs and underneath flowing silks; with the ghost of his touch, he traces down the length of her cunt, spreading the slick against her folds and his fingers. Her curse dies in her throat and melts into a sweet gasp as he circles her clit with his middle finger.
An influx of images almost makes him still the caress. He should’ve known that Hal would refuse to go down without a fight.
Hal, on his knees, lapping at the head of his cock with a grin on his face. Himself, laying on his side as he watches her play with herself. That perfect back arching like a bow, strong legs thrown over his shoulders as he drills into his body with no abandon. Her hands holding down his own as she uses him like a toy. Soft whispers in his ear as Hal pushes his fingers into him, chest to back. Her hand wrapped around him, teasing until his legs are shaking with the need to push his hips into her loose fist.
“Stop it,” he says, leaning down to let this breath fan against his ear. Sharp eyes glare at him, and whatever retort Hal attempts to come up with dies as Morpheus slips his fingers back down his cunt. Not pushing in but pressing, teasing the intrusion before travelling back upwards. “Keep still.”
Hal whimpers into the open air as his fingers find the clit once more, massaging the bundle with quick, tight, precise little circles. Morpheus doesn’t bother hiding his smile as he watches the body start to melt and lose the fight. The skin flickers and reshapes, stuttering whenever Hal forgets to focus on the power in the body’s veins and loses track of anything that isn’t the pleasure between the legs. He leans back in, pressing tender kisses to the sternum. With his tongue licking up the line of the throat, Morpheus nips at the skin until a hand slips into his hair and tugs at the roots of the dark strands.
He trails his lips upwards until he’s sucking the earlobe into his mouth, licking up the line of the ear before he laughs, soft and breathy. “Stop thinking, Hal Jordan.”
That’s all the body needs as Hal settles into the softness. Plush thighs, delicate hands, full hips and a throbbing cunt she keeps pushing against his hand. His mouth finds her breasts, lapping at the hardened nipples before sucking them into his mouth. He’s teasing while his hand becomes insistent; his middle and pointer are switched out for his thumb, it flicks against her clit as two fingers press against her slit.
“Shit. Fuck, give it to me.” She’s gasping. One of her hands twists the sheets into her fist, the other is digging her nails into the back of his neck. “Do it, Dream. S’not nice to leave a girl waiting. C’mon, I know you want it, don’t you? Think I can’t feel you? You’re so fucking–”
Hal’s moan is sharp as he pushes his fingers in. She immediately clenches around him, walls pulsing greedily, trying to drag him further in.
The words that he’d put an end to carried some sort of truth to them. He’s throbbing against the jut of her hip, long having started to grind against her in hopes of some relieving friction. Morpheus knows she could tell from the way her eyes found his, lips parting in a loose smile as an image flashes inside both their heads.
His hard, weeping cock slowly sheathing itself in her cunt, stretching her open–
“Motherfucker!” Hal twists against the sheets with a shout, eyes fluttering shut as he curls his fingers upwards, pulsing them against that soft spot inside of her. He’s mean with it, grinding his thumb down more insistently as he watches her with fascination. Her thighs tighten around his hips, hands shooting down to hold his forearm like it’s going to stop him. “Fuck– keep going. Keep going, Morpheus, yes–”
He stops. Because he’s just as terrible as Hal is.
She collapses back onto the mattress with an open mouth, gulping in deep breaths like she’s been starved of oxygen she no longer needs. When her eyes open, Hal looks like she’s willing to kill. Morpheus doesn’t bother to hide his smile, not even when she pushes his hand away from her cunt and slips her legs further up his waist. He tilts his head back into the pillows with a laugh as she flips them, landing heavy on his middle and pressing her hands into his shoulders.
“Gotta do everything myself, don’t I?” She hisses. His eyes follow her every move, mesmerized as he watches her get rid of the silks covering her body. Her skin is golden like it used to be in life but it’s devoid of the scars that had once covered every ridge of skin and muscle.
The way she moves, however, even as The Specter is not that much different from the way Hal used to. Always strong, always agile, peacocking that lean frame around because he liked being adored; she preens under his gaze just like he used to. Morpheus loves to do it all the same. “Such a fuckin’ nightmare. Can’t fucking stand you.”
Hal slips her hand into his hair and wrenches his head back. Hard. She holds him in place with one of them, the other supporting her weight against the pillows. Morpheus breathes in deep, closing his eyes and pretending his mouth doesn’t water at the smell of her musk invading his every sense. He tries to push against her hand, strains his neck to try and get a taste.
She stops him before he has the chance, tugs him back down and murmurs “behave” with a deeper voice than he’d been expecting. His hips jump up, grinding against nothing. It makes her laugh at him as she lowers herself against his mouth.
Morpheus sticks his tongue out, licking a long line up her cunt and moaning at the same time she does. He’s hungry for it, going through the motions of eating her out like a man starving. The taste of her coats the entirety of his mouth in something cold and fresh, reminding him of the vastness of the galaxy and the coolness of space. The slick he spreads up and down her folds drips down his chin and cheeks and it feels like coating himself in stardust.
With her thighs pressed hard against the sides of his face, Hal uses his mouth and nose like a grinding pad. She presses down against his tongue, dragging herself against his lips as her body convulses against his face. He angles his head down, pressing his tongue against her opening and pushing in as she parts her lips in a sharp gasp. Her hips jump, rubbing her clit against the tip of his nose and making a mess of the lower half of his face. He hums against her, delighted to see the arm holding her up start to shake.
“Oh– fuck,” she hiccups. Her hand tightens in his hair, hips stuttering against his face. She repeats the word with more intention, gravel heavy in her tone. “Oh fuck.”
Morpheus holds on to her thighs, pulling her down further against his mouth as he fucks into her with her tongue. She’s not quiet, moaning into the open air as her hand tightens in his hair. It aches, making him moan against her. Both of them pant against each other like animals, his fingers pressing bruises into her skin while her thighs attempt to smother him alive.
“Don’t stop.” Hal drops her hand away from his hair, smacking it on the mattress as she bunches both of them into fists. She’s fucks her hips into his mouth, desperately trying to push his tongue deeper into herself. “That’s it, Dream, that’s it. Shit.”
The voice deepens, roughens around the edges and reminds Morpheus of the many times that smoky, velvet whisper was pressed against his skin. He pushes his hips up into the air once more, pushing Hal off his face just enough to flip them. Her back hits the mattress and her hands slip back into his hair as he holds her legs spread and sling her thighs over his shoulders.
“Please.” His mouth closes around her clit like a vice, sucking the bud between his lips until he can feel her legs shaking. “Please.” Two fingers push back inside her, hooking upwards and curling in tandem with each deep suck. “Please.”
Her hands curl in his hair, throwing her head back in pleasure and screwing her eyes shut. Morpheus barely drags his teeth against the side of her clit, moaning against her as she squeals for him. The stars in his eyes trail after every twitch of her body, unable to look away from the way her blush spreads from the apples of her cheeks all the way down to her chest. He untangles one of her hands from his hair and raises it up to her breasts.
“Touch yourself.” The sound of his voice echoes in both their ears, even with his mouth busy against his cunt. Hal hiccups a small gasp as she catches one of her nipples between her own fingers, twisting as meanly as he had earlier.
Morpheus doesn’t see so much as feel the way she teeters closer and closer to the peak of her pleasure. He feels Hal clenching down on him, attempting to suck his fingers further in. Her hips jump desperately against his mouth, pushing into the heat and trying to run as far away from it as she can. “Stay still,” he murmurs against her, splaying a hand against her hips to keep her in place. His mouth and fingers switch places.
Hal is holding herself up on her forearm, pressing his face against her cunt and keeping her eyes locked on his. Her lips are bitten raw, each and every cry and keen being ripped out from her chest.
She watches as he moans against her folds, lapping up every drop of slick like he’s a man dying of thirst. He rubs his nose over her cunt, nudging her clit against it while his fingers trace loose circles around it. Morpheus closes his eyes to savor the taste of her as he pushes his tongue back inside, fucking into the wet heat that constricts around the muscle. When he opens his eyes once more, Hal’s transfixed.
Her lips parted and chest heaving with every breath. Somehow, she musters up the ability to speak.
“Dream.” Hal grinds her hips down against him, legs shaking. Her breath hiccups in his chest. The entirety of her body tightens like a string about to snap. “Please. I’m– I can’t– fuck, please.”
“Let go, Hal.”
It happens with a shout. Morpheus keeps his fingers on her clit, pulls back with a dripping chin to watch as Hal makes a mess of herself as she cums. Her entrance gushes with slick, dripping down onto the sheets below as his fingers flick at her clit and drag her orgasm out for as long as he can. Hips twitching, she tries to get away from the feeling of his tongue lapping up what’s left of it; he cleans her up, laving his tongue through her folds, against her clit, and against the inside of her thighs.
She pushes him away with a strangled moan as overstimulation starts to take over the pleasure. He does as instructed, setting her legs down and pulling away. Not before pressing a kiss to her thighs. Hal looks soft as he straightens, and perhaps that’s why he doesn’t expect it when she reaches up and flips him onto his back.
There’s a warm tongue lapping up the underside of his jaw, along the side of his face and sucking the taste of Hal from his mouth, tongue, and lips.
Morpheus barely registers when he has about 180-something pounds of man pressing his body down against the mattress, but he does feel it when a calloused hand he knows intimately reaches through his robes and wraps a fist around his cock. His free hand frees him from the fabric, leaving him just as exposed.
“Yeah, there you go,” Hal coos against his temple. There’s laughter in his voice, though it’s thick and low in his throat. Sated from the body’s previous orgasm, even. “There you go, baby.” He’s barely moving his wrist, cradling Morpheus’ head against his chest as he whispers. His hips are moving on their own accord, fucking into Hal’s fist as he tightens his jaw. “Fuck.”
He sounds mesmerized as he swipes a thumb over the weeping tip. His lips press against the skin of his forehead, trail down to his cheek before settling behind his ear.
“I could do this all day.” Morpheus can’t bring himself to suppress the shiver he sends down his spine at the sound of Hal’s rough whisper. “Stroke this gorgeous fucking cock like it’s my job.” Even in death, and reborn as a god, he’s still blasé about the way he speaks to him. Even in moments like these. He should’ve known Hal would never truly change, not completely. “Feels good, beautiful?”
Morpheus exhales a hiss through his teeth. He’s weeping into Hal’s fingers, the sound of skin fucking into skin slick and dirty. It almost feels like it did when Hal was alive and mortal, when all the propriety of being a god was out the window. They can both pretend, for now.
“Come on. That’s it. Take what you need, baby.” Morpheus has half the mind to grab at Hal’s face, shutting him up with a kiss that tastes of his laughter. His hips stutter as Hal slips his hand further down to his sack, massaging it with a gentleness that spreads molten heat down the line of his back.
He sticks his tongue in Morpheus’ mouth, swallows the groan right out of his lips as he cums. Hal wraps his hand around him once more, cradling him in those deft fingers and milking him for what he’s worth.
“There you go, beautiful.” A warm tongue licks up the line of his jaw. Morpheus knows Hal can still taste his slick on his skin. He presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “That’s it. Give it to me, baby. Fuckin’ gorgeous, aren’t you?” He doesn’t stop speaking as Morpheus shakes in his arms, dribbling what’s left of his orgasm into his fingers. He has the gall to laugh as he finally pushes him away.
Hal collapses onto the bed next to him. The body is back to shifting between states of being; male and female and female and male and back again. Morpheus tilts his head to watch it happen. He doesn’t bother putting an end to it, the comedown soothing both their minds for now. He does, however, reach a hand out to pull Hal against his chest. The body keeps doing whatever it is that it’s going to do.
“Are you satisfied?” He murmurs. “Are you going to stay out of my duties?”
“For now.”
Morpheus closes his eyes, sighing. “I figured.”
They both fall quiet. The feeling of The Sanctuary is not much different than that of The Dreaming, he realizes. He finds himself at ease despite being away from his own realm. He should not allow himself to rest here; it’s unsafe and improper. Furthermore, he has no idea what the consequences of staying in an unknown realm could be.
Hal’s body presses further up against him, heavy and pliable in his arms. Morpheus figures he can bring himself to care later on. One night should not be enough to lead them to war.
“It’s good to see you again, Hal Jordan.”
The body snorts and the eyes roll; however Hal flips in his arms to cradle his face in the body’s hands. The smile is enough to rob him of his breath.
“Yeah, you too.” Two voices answer at once.