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

uneasy alliance

“I don’t wanna scare you, George.”

Dream’s voice is sickeningly sweet, all gooey and tantalizing, like the honey George collects from the nearby beehive. It’s a sharp juxtaposition to his appearance— split lip and bloody teeth, greasy, knotted hair and scars littering his face and neck, scars George has never seen before. There was a time when George had every scar, every imperfection on Dream’s body memorized. Now, George barely recognizes the man in front of him.

“You don’t,” George whispers from where Dream has him crowded against his own kitchen counter, “you don’t scare me.”

It’s not a lie. George doesn’t think he’s capable of lying to Dream.

“I should,” Dream says like he’s confessing, like they’re back at the church, stealing kisses and sharing moments of immortality in front of the purple stained glass. Dream looked like an angel back then, bathed in tinted light. George hasn’t been there in ages. He surely isn’t deserving of divinity.

Dream is probably right— Dream, this Dream, is likely bringing George nothing but trouble, danger. George has settled into a quiet life since Dream was imprisoned, in a cottage away from most of civilization. He tends to his garden and cares for his cows, only occasionally seeing Sapnap or Karl if they feel like visiting. He sleeps a lot too, chasing dreams in which there were never any wars, in which he and Dream are young and in love like years ago.

Now, George knows Sam will be here in the morning, if not sooner. He’ll take George in for interrogation and George will lie through his teeth, stain his own conscience to protect a criminal, a murderer.

George presses his face into Dream’s chest. The fabric of the prison jumpsuit scratches against his cheek and Dream smells awful, but he can’t pull away.

“I missed you,” George mutters. He really has. He thinks about Dream every day, about the way they used to be. He mourns the days when it was just the two of them, exploring the land, exploring each other, learning one another for the first time. He remembers building their first home together. He remembers finding a home in Dream. He remembers how happy he was back then. He wonders if Dream was as happy as he seemed.

“You could’ve visited.” Dream’s arms wrap around him, hands roaming over his back. His arms still feel strong despite his months spent in a cell.

George couldn’t have visited, in truth. It would have broken him to see Dream like that. Instead he ran away, like a coward, like always.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Dream slides his hands under George’s thighs, hoists him up onto the counter and slots himself between George’s legs. He tilts George’s chin up with one hand. Even like this, Dream is substantially taller.

“It’s okay darling, you’re gonna make it up to me, aren’t you?” Dream’s eyes are dark, nothing like the youthful gaze George once knew. George’s heart races. He nods.

Dream smiles and it looks far too genuine for the liar that he is. He slides the hand on George’s chin down to wrap around his throat, thumb and middle finger right under his jaw. His other hand finds George’s waist, caressing him there gently.

“I can feel your heartbeat, George,” Dream murmurs against George’s ear. “I could stop it so easily, you know.”

George shivers and nods again. He knows. He knows Dream could kill him so, so easily— George wouldn’t even try to stop him. He’s helpless when it comes to Dream, always has been.

“Just a little squeeze, Georgie. Or I could get my sword from my enderchest, slit your pretty throat.” Dream leaves syrupy kisses along George’s jawline between his words. “You’d look so gorgeous bleeding out for me.”