A Week In November // dreamnotfound

-10-

Orlando, Florida
November 27th – 11:52pm

Dream didn't know what events led him to what he was doing right now, but he was doing it.

If he was being honest, ever since he'd been deprived of the release he had been so desperately needing, he'd been rather dirty. Everything he saw, heard, smelt, tasted. Hell, anything the man fucking thought of he would somehow turn it sexual. He hated himself sometimes.

So now he was alone in his bedroom, with a very big problem between his legs.

His head laid back into the soft comforts of his pillow, he felt his weight melt away into the mattress, looking up at his blank white ceiling with only one goddamn thought on his mind. George.

It was always fucking George.

They had just seperated for the night to head to bed, nothing but a sturdy walk of concrete separating the two.

How he wished to march through to George's room right now, pin him against the bed and have his way. Dream put that thought on hold. He was something Dream could not have right now. In a few days maybe, but by then would the moment pass?

Dream wished it wouldn't, but he knew deep down in his mind, as soon as November was over, George would be something he couldn't have. The sexual fantasy the two had been unknowningly building over the past few days would shatter, leaving behind nothing but a misty haze of lust.

There wasn't anything Dream wanted more in that very moment than George. He was right in front of him, taunting him, seducing him, but he was unattainable. Nothing but an unreachable aura of an impulse.

If he didn't have him now, he wouldn't get a chance to have him again, would he? What good was having pride if he didn't have the one thing he truly desired?

Dream groaned, hands smacking against his face, pulling down frustratingly. God, everything was just so frustrating. One way or another he wouldn't be able to have George.

Phones dung on the counter, useless notifications that would only put a damper on his already shitty mood. Still, he picked up the device, the artificial blue light illuminating his darkened face in his pitch black room.

Fingers found themselves sliding, tapping mindlessly at the device. His mind was racing, it needed sleep, he needed sleep, but he wasn't going to get any. His phone was almost useless. Why did anyone need phones? They were impractical apart from sending messages. The apps on his phone were just a mess of colored pixels.

Messages. Useless, he didn't have anyone that was worth replying to. Youtube. No new content he could force himself to watch. Phot-

Photos.

His hand couldn't have moved quicker. The device wasn't working fast enough, since the idea popped into Dream's head. Both to be exact. The app shot up fast, and then a few more taps and there they were. The fucking photos.

Teeth lustfully sunk into the flesh of Dream's bottom lip, gnawing, pulling, a slight distraction to the overwhelming tinge surging through his body. With a deep sigh, he pressed his finger down on the first photo. Memories of the first snap he screenshotted flashing in his head in the blink of an eye.

The dark colored hoodie, the one piece of clothing that was honestly a cruel smack in the face that he could never see more. The hoodie drawn up, exposing the petite, soft looking skin of George's lower abdomen. The sweatpants that hung low on his hips, revealing the band of his waistband which also sat tightly against his waist. Dream's eyes couldn't focus on anything, but the things that stood out, the outlines of his naval and his v-line. His eyes eagerly traced the prominent lines, passing lower and lower until his sight was abruptly cut off with the clothing of his boxers.

God, George was hot.

His heart rate grew, grew faster and faster. Eyes couldn't soak in fast enough, couldn't absorb the erotic sight before him quick enough, he almost didn't want to. He almost wanted to be drinking up George's sexual figure, forever and ever.

Fingers swiped, desperate for more, more, more.

The next photo popped up almost quicker than the other. This was just self-inflicted torutre. Dream definitely couldn't focus on anything in this one.

The way George's chest was pressed down into the bed, back arched, and ass completely stuck up into the air. Dream's eyes followed the familiar, black lace, the straps of a thigh harness that hugged tightly against George's stunning figure. Fuck he was perfect.

His thighs looked so soft, Dream wished he could somehow reach through the screen, and grasp them harshly in his palm. But he couldn't. The screen of the phone and the wall separating the two was just a cruel reminder to Dream that he could never have him.

In a fit of despair, hands wandered downwards. Smoothly running across the skin of his abdomen, down underneath the waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers.

A cool breeze wafted down into his briefs, hitting the tip of his erection that was already leaking precum. Hands wrapped around his hard erection, the slightest of touches sending shivers across his skin. A gasp escaped through his teeth, a hiss of a pained breath at how desperate he was for anything.

His hand pulled up and down his cock, in slow, agonizingly slow strokes, long and lingering. Everything felt hot, flustered, scalding. Dream imagined it was George's hand touching his dick. Leaving a hot lingering burn to his skin, in wanted, desired touches. He wanted George, so fucking badly.

Hangs pulled faster, grip squeezing stronger desperately. He felt the familiar pool of arousal in the pit of his stomach, growing hot and heavy. His breath grew jagged, short and rough. His chest heaved, hands growing faster and faster.

A few more short strokes and he would finish. Would finally feel the euphorically blissful feeling that could overcome his entire body. Finally feel the relieving feeling of release.

And then he stopped.

His hands had to force themselves to stop, the once built up arousal and heat driving deep in his gut, almost too tempting to cross that path of relief. But he couldn't.

He felt dirty. He was dirty.

And he hadn't even finished.

*

*

*

I DONT CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS, PRECUM DOES. NOT. COUNT.

okay but like tell me why this was the longest ive gone without updating this story?? thank you to all my readers that were patient about my uploads, to everyone that was like uhh rEsPEcTiVelY hURrY Up, literally shut up, i was plagiarizing a short story for my english assignment, god give me a chance 🙄  if i could just submit my dnf smut as my assessment than this whole thing would be so much easier. ALSO on a borderline sad note, this story is coming to an end, it makes me sad but apart from the bonus chaps, and the other fic ive honestly abandoned, (dw i havent :)) i will be starting ANOTHER fic that will involve smut and is a high school au fic that i originally wrote with oc characters in my drafts !! stay tuned !! <3