Dont read this, this is just for stories i want read

hardened clay (with these hands)

The room was dark, and even though the fan turned lazily on the ceiling, there was still a level of muggy heat that refused to dissipate -- it was the steam running in hot from the shower that he'd just come from. The steam that had stained his slim body a pretty pink and left him feeling almost chilled now that he lay nude against his sheets.

But that's what he'd been told to do.

It was surreal when he thought about it. Dream's voice had been a thing that floated through his head like the statically charged air of an electric storm; if you really want it, show me.

And then he'd told him -- clean and naked and waiting.

George hadn't been able to think straight since he'd heard that salacious and saccharine command -- but he could rarely think straight when it came to Dream. The fact that they were together, really together, was sometimes so dreamlike that he expected to wake up.

When he woke, though, it was to a much larger body holding him close, long arms strong and wrapped possessively around his chest. It was to a blazing look and a demanding mouth, and he ached with how much they couldn't get enough of one another now that they'd finally admitted their feelings; he ached more for how much he never wanted to satiate their lasciviousness.

But until earlier, he'd never heard Dream talk to him like that. It had been a light, teasing thing. Hot moments stolen whenever they could manage -- they'd had all of the effervescent energy of two young men in love meeting for the first time.

And then Dream had asked him, but what do you really want?

And almost without thinking, George had grinned and replied, to see how far you'll really go.

He'd been teasing, but something in the taller male's expression had shifted, changed. Darkened.

Oh, come on, Georgie... Really?  Dream's voice was soft. Silken.

It made George shiver, and made him respond without thinking it through.

Yes.

And then they'd had to stream, and for a while, he'd put the thought out of his mind... until that voice had spilled through his headset after everyone had signed off and the stream had ended.

If you really want it, show me.

Clean and naked and waiting.

George barely heard the sound of the door whispering open behind him, but when he turned his breath caught in his throat.

Dream was there... but he stood in a pair of tight black pants and nothing else. The lean muscles of his torso were taut in the pale light of the moon that shone through the window -- it caught on his gloves, tight-fitting and exposing fingers. It caught in the soft curl of his hair, which was all that George could see of his face.

He was wearing a mask.

Something in his body clenched tight -- something about the way that he just stood there held more power and command than anything he'd experienced before. And when his voice rang out, it was cool and cutting and everything.

"Lay down."

George squirmed -- he didn't know how much he wanted to be told what to do until that exact moment, and maybe he hadn't ever really wanted it until he'd been told like this. There was something about the moment that seemed so defining, so final in the sense that this was really going to make the fantasy that he'd been living in for the past few weeks a reality.

It felt like a claiming.

He shifted back into a neutral position and laid his hands on the bed beside him.