A/N: it took me so long to write this because i was worried about getting it 'right' until i remembered it's my story-- chile. anyway, feedback is always appreciated. enjoy! :-)
Edited 16/8/22
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"Me, first."
The low and tantalising rumble of Dream's voice struck George right in the chest and made his limbs go useless, especially as Dream's nimble fingers found the buckle on his trousers.
Moving with a speed that was likely driven by his incredibly bad patience, Dream pulled off and tossed George's trousers aside and shrugged off his own; the two of them wrestled under the covers, limbs tangling.
George had his hands gripped on the back of Dream's neck, was tugging him down, his fingers curling into his wild hair as Dream kissed him with enough vigour to leave him speechless — not that he would have anything particularly coherent to say.
Dream's hand had snuck downwards, inching down George's body with agonising slowness, with so much precision and gentleness that George had to hiss through his teeth, "Get on with it."
"Patience," he murmured, his hands trailing with even less speed.
George wanted to punch him. Deliberately cruel bastard. Fucking—
George groaned as his fingers met the line of his boxers.
"You like that?" He could imagine the smugness on his face, and the thought of Dream was obliterating all thought, all sense, as his fingers trailed lazily across his abdomen, caressing his hips, going everywhere except where George wanted him—
"I hate you," he breathed through the kiss, his heart crashing against his ribs. "I hate you so much."
He felt Dream smile. He could imagine, distinctly, the curve of his lips as he smirked, the glow in his verdant eyes, the tilt of his jaw.
Dream's fingers etched the rim of his boxers, so slow, so goddamn slow—
If George survived this, he was going to kill Dream.
His nails grazed his skin ever so slightly, and it took all of George's willpower to stop himself from grabbing Dream's wrists. But he could be patient, he told himself, almost desperately, even as he felt his breath shuddering, his vision going foggy.
And then, finally, finally— he made contact, gripping him hard beneath his boxers.
Well. Fuck.
George was so fucked.
He threw back his head as Dream stroked him beneath the covers, his hands deft and precise, leaving George a mess, heat blazing through his core. He felt like he would melt through the covers if he let this go on.
He was at Dream's complete will— and he didn't give a flying fuck.
George gasped out his name, his real one, and Clay hesitated, his hand stalling.
"Why'd you stop," George breathed, an edge to his voice that he didn't think he was even capable of.
"Are you sure you want this?"
He seethed, "Obviously. And when I'm done, I'll return the favour."
"As in—"
"Clay," he practically begged.
"Right." Dream's expression was tainted with obvious self-satisfaction. "Forgot how keen you were."
George's composure snapped — he grabbed the asshole's shirt and tugged him closer, their bodies flush together, and caught his lips aggressively, restlessly.
YOU ARE READING
MANHUNT {dreamnotfound}
Fanfiction((COMPLETED + EDITED!)) Dream is the Kingdom's most wanted thief. George is a Hunter sent to kill him, King's orders. When George makes the rash decision to follow him into a ravine, the two men are stuck together, forced to survive the strange an...
