Stygiophobia

Dance with the devil

When Dream woke up, George was still sound to the world, cuddled up close to the devil himself.

"I want to shower." Dream grumbled after a few hours of sleep. The angel wasn't conscious enough to reply. "Will you be upset if you wake up alone, just this once?" Dream knew he wouldn't get a reply, but he knew even if George did have an issue, he wouldn't say anything about it. He could have an issue.

Dream laid in the same spot for a little while for George, hoping he'd wake up. After about forty-five minutes, Dream concluded that George would probably not wake up fast enough for his likings.

Dream figured that since George was sleeping, he could tell a story out loud, talk about his dream he had, knowing George wouldn't hear. Something told him that the angel wouldn't want to hear, so this was a perfect time for him to tell.

"I had a dream while we slept, a very pleasing dream at that. I killed a God, George. I killed a God and drank his blood, it was sweet. I've never seen the Christian God, but I swear on my life it must've been him. I screamed at him in such pure rage, it even scared me. I thought about you as I tore away his skin and chipped away at his wings, I told him it was for you. I told him that the writings of Leviticus eighteen was the death of him, and that he should change it. I killed a God with my bare hands, and I loved it. I'd kill Gods for you, my precious angel. I'd lay down my life for you." Dream relished is the satisfaction of his dream world, where he could kill the un-killable. He loved it so dearly.

"You'd lay down your life for me?" A small faint whisper came from the unmoving boy next to him. He had been awake the whole time.

"You're awake." Not a question, a displeased statement. The devil doesn't like to admit such sensitive information.

"I wanted to hear the story." George sounded genuine enough, plus his sleepy voice was enough to make Dream bend over backwards for him.

When George cuddled closer to Dream, he felt his sudden discourse melt away to bitter bits on the floor. George was hard to be mad at.

"You know you weren't meant to hear that story." Dream slowly sat up, taking George with him since he was clinging like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow.

"I'm sorry." George actually sounded serious, which didn't make Dream any happier.

"Don't worry so much, I could never be mad at you." Dream was getting to a point where it frustrated him that he couldn't be mad, or angry, or anything negative towards the angel. It made him confused, but when George spoke he didn't care anymore.

"Okay, still I should've told you." George slowly used practically all of his arm strength to pull himself onto Dreams lap without help.

"Hm? What are you doing, angel?" Dream smiled more of a smirk than anything else.

"Giving you an apology." George spoke with an absent mind, moving his lips towards Dreams neck. The angel sure was becoming a little devil.

"Oh? But I told you it was fine." Dream couldn't even begin to try to pretend that he wasn't into it; all of hell could tell that he was. Dream tilted his head more to the side for George to gain access.

"No, I like doing this, so it's fine." George began to lightly nibble on the more sensitive skin, using his his tongue to gently swipe over the bites. Tiny brownish purple bruises began to appear when George began to suck.

"At this rate, people will think I'm the bottom. We both know that's not true." Dream sucked in a gasp when George bit down a fraction harder.

"The devil doesn't care what people think about him." Dream could feel George's smile against his neck. It was oddly hot, in all the best ways.