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

Façade Pt2 - Adrenaline and Apprehension

Outfitted in only a tight pair of joggers that show off just enough, George sits in the grand armchair situated in the corner of the library. He grips his phone in his left hand and repeatedly checks the time.

9:53 pm.

At the top of the hour, both had agreed the chase was on. George’s goal was to outrun Dream as long as possible, with mental stakes rising by the minute. Dream would start in the guest bedroom across the manor with the intention of finding George and absolutely fucking ruining him.

George’s eyes finally adapt to the dim light that barely illuminates the room. The manor walls are lined with electric candles that lit the long and dark hallways, as the main light source was switched off. He thought it was stupid and a waste of power, but perhaps he was too quick to judge, as the warm glow appears to be just enough to set the desired atmosphere of suspense, danger, and arousing adrenaline.

He’s pulled out of his trance as his text tone alerts and brings a hollow echo through the vacant library. Switching the settings to silent, he reads Dream’s text: Color?

The old grandfather clock strikes 10, releasing a deep brass ringing that damn near gives George a heart attack. He quickly types a response back: Green, daddy. Very, very green.

Dream’s response doesn’t help his growing erection, but he isn’t one to complain: Happy to hear that, darling. See you soon ;)

It doesn’t take long for it to dawn on him that he really has no idea what he’s doing. Dream surely knows this place like the back of his hand and a home as old as this surely has its fair share of secrets. Pocketing his phone, George runs out of the library and sneaks into the study next door. The air is dry and dusty, but it's a slightly less obvious hiding spot so it’ll have to do.

George is bored. He’s bored and he can’t kill. Typically in this sort of situation, he’d devise a master plan to trick Dream for hours, but the reward is simply too tempting to wait a few hours for. Sure, he could jerk off right then and there, yet something holds him back.

Good boys get rewards. Dream’s voice echoes in his head, and words of praise dance around his mind like a tornado about to touch the ground. The creaking of the old wood snaps him out of the trance and beckons him into the rest of the house. There’s no way Dream could have possibly made his way down yet, but Dream had his ways and he always got exactly what he wanted.

The game was rigged in Dream’s favor and by no means could it be argued any other way. It was simply a waiting game that ripped the competitive side and touch-starved masochist side of him apart. The side of him that could kill another man with no mercy for simply looking at his lover and the side who wants nothing more than possessive scars cut across his lithe skin have reached an agreement; that agreement was Dream.

Unable to hold back his uncontrollable lust, George pulls out his phone and props it up on a nearby chair. The dusty chair sits in front of an old desk which glows dully from the quiet light of the candles. George sets a timer and runs to the other side of the desk.

He sits on the edge of the wood facing the wall, spreading his legs and arching his back. Above his head, he crosses his arms and leans into his shoulder. The camera captures the lascivious outline of his body, just as intended. He zooms in and examines the quality of the photo, deeming it perfect before sending it off to Dream.

And he waits.

There are a few moments of silence and the excited beating of George’s heart before it dawns on him that he’s practically given his exact location away. Dream is intelligent and prides himself on his residence, so the lack of bright luminescence would hardly be a deterrent. The taller knows every corner and crevice of the manor and George can’t complain.