Talk Fast || DNF

Chapter 5

ne who actually cares that I get off instead of cumming in two minutes and kicking me out."

"Ouch," Damien comments, although it lacks merit due to his neutral tone. "I'm just curious, that's all. I like to keep tabs on you, you know this."

Dream scoffs, rolling his eyes as he tries to walk towards his next class. Being the leech that he is, the other follows. "It's really none of your business. We aren't anything and you know that. Last week was a mistake, I shouldn't have called."

"But you did," he quips, a dark feeling forming in the pit of Dream's stomach. He should have let everything with Damien stay dead. That relationship had become a black hole and he regrets nothing more than letting him be sucked back in.

Thankfully before Damian can say anything to make Dream feel worse than he already does, he spots his saving grace. Exclaiming, "George, hey!"

The brunet, who seemed to be on his way to class, turns his head, perking up at the mention of his name. The sunlight shines on his dark hair and casts lines across his pale skin. His eyes spot Dream and he seems to come to attention before they land on Damian. Confusion overtakes his features and Dream really hopes that George will go along with this, "Damian, you know my roommate, George. Uh, George, hey, we were planning on getting lunch together, right? That was today?"

George's eyes dart between the two of them before he nods, "Yes, yeah, I was on my way to meet you, actually. Who... who is this?"

"Holy shit is this him? Are you serious, Dream?"

"He's my roommate, fuck off," Dream retorts, "We gotta go eat, I'll talk to you later."

Dream doesn't give Damian much of a choice, nodding in the direction of the parking lot as if he and George were going to actually leave to go eat. At this point, Dream is seriously considering ditching class with George just to get this stupid man off his back. George follows him close behind, not sparing even a glance back at Damian who was left in the dust. It's not until they're out of eyesight that they start veering towards class.

"What the hell was that about? Do you just not like that guy or something?" George finally asks the question Dream had been dreading. "Also, what did he mean "is this him?"

The blond groans, running a hand through his hair. Glancing over at George, his eyes linger on a mark just barely peeking above his collar. So that's how Damian figured it out. "He's my ex, giant douchebag, and we —" he flicks the mark on George's neck, causing him to wince and rub the area, "—need to be more careful. Nothing above the chest if we wanna actually keep this a secret."

"Since when is it a 'this?'" George asks, but the glint in his eyes betrays the feigned confusion. They both know this became something the night in the bathroom. The thought of this being anything more than this was supposed to be makes Dream ache. Not in the way that he wants it to be more, just the knowledge that it shouldn't be. They drew lines in the sand, but they're being blurred more and more as this goes on.

Dream just scoffs, pulling George into an unseen corner similar to the way Damian had done the same to him earlier. He tries not to linger on the parallels, leaning in close to whisper in the brunet's ear, "Well, I'll let you choose, it could have been when I blew you in a bathroom or when you jerked me off or when you said you'd let me fu—"

"Okay, I get it," George whines, pushing the other — who now has a shit-eating grin on his face — away and crossing his arms. "I think you're having too much fun with me, you've lost sight of the objective."

"Well, if you feel you are experienced enough to take on the world then be my guest. Call this off," Dream threatens, genuinely curious as to what George would have to say. "No need for a straight guy to keep hooking up with me if he is aptly prepared."