Gimme×Gimme

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Dream feels like he shouldn't be here.

The Antarctic Empire is holding a party of sorts, and it's a large gathering for a celebration of sorts. There are faces both familiar and unseen, and he watches from the bar in the far corner as old friends mingle with new ones. While it is considerably less formal than past ones, he still feels horribly out of place. Even when he's dressed to the nines, in a dress shirt and slacks with a black vest over his torso along with a deep green tie and suit jacket, he feels as though he just doesn't fit in this type of setting. Maybe it's the way he doesn't know a lot of etiquette at all, or the way he sometimes threatens to trip over his feet with the dress shoes he's not used to wearing, or the way his hands struggle to grip at things properly with the sleek silk white gloves that cover them. This isn't the place for him, for his place is out there in the woods climbing on trees and jumping over dangerous pits and letting his laughter fade into the wind as he gambles his life before the jaws of life-threatening danger.

This isn't the place for him, but it's the place for someone else that he's here for.

Dream shifts in place involuntarily, a hand coming up to tug at his collar and loosen his tie. His perfume permeates through the heavy atmosphere, cutting through the stench of alcohol in the packed ballroom. His gloved fingers curl around the neck of a half-full wine glass on the countertop in front of him, swirling the deep red liquid ever so slightly before letting it run down his throat. His eyelids flutter close at the distinct bitter burn of the drink, its signature color seeping into his thoughts in the form of familiar crimson eyes from the visage permanently burned into the back of his mind.

Are you free tonight? Called from you, now

I'm clad in my favorite musk and my sweet secrets

He opens his eyes after a minute when his ears pick up on the sound of light commotion, emeralds sweeping over the expanse of the grand room nervously. He doesn't care too much about anything else in this party anyway, he honestly would've left hours ago if not for this moment. He pays little to no mind to his friends, the pairs on the dance floor, or the feast laid out for them to partake in. He instead scans the growing crowd by the main entrance, bated breath counting down the seconds in anticipation. It would be bothersome if he came here all this way for one person only for him not to arrive. He's growing impatient already, honestly. Eventually, he catches sight of a familiar head of pink hair approaching from the distance.

Dream audibly gulps, because he's just absolutely breathtaking.

I've been waiting... This weekend night

I'll make this night my own, with everything I have

Techno is dressed in soft blues and bright reds, layers upon layers of fabric building up a warm and regal attire. The regular gold accessories are traded out for those of silver, silver like the snow and ice that make up his empire and silver like the crown that sits on his head that prove him worthy to rule. His hair is tied into a singular braid running down the expanse of his back, over the long vermilion cape draped over his shoulders. He's dressed very much like a king, and he accordingly acts like so. Unlike Dream, he is at home. This is the place for him, amongst royalty and grandeur and riches galore of the land he rules with an iron fist. His gait is relaxed yet purposeful, and he carries himself with an air of confidence that immediately makes Dream's own crumble when Techno starts walking directly in his direction.

My libido is overflowing

Ah, how I love that urge

Techno comes to a stop right in front of Dream, and neither of them bother to hide the fact that they've been staring at each other and haven't stopped. Crimson eyes pierce into his own, and they draw him in like so. This is just a common effect Techno has on him, but it seems that no matter how many times he goes through it he never grows more resistant. His emerald eyes greedily drink in the sight in front of him, drink in the blues of liquor and the reds so reminiscent of the wine he drank just a few minutes ago. Like alcohol, Techno is so very intoxicating, and Dream finds that he doesn't mind getting drunk on him.

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