Dont read this, this is just stories I want to read

Soft, But Rough Around The Edges

“No, that isn't how it goes,” George groans.

“Yes, it is, you slide into my lap and I thrust up.”

“Clay,” George says unimpressed, jutting his hip out. His knee pads are digging into his pale skin, but he doesn't care. He sees Clay look over to the knee George is pointing out, dragging his eyes up to George’s and huffing. He lays on the floor, arms behind him with his sweats laying across his legs.

“What?” He asks incredulously.

“Don’t be dumb, you know the routine.” George huffs.

“Yeah, I do.” Clay agrees, “Do you?” He challenges.

“Of course I do, I made the damn thing.”

Dream sits up a bit more, “Actually,” he pauses gesturing a hand between the two of them, “we made it, and one of us is messing it up a day before our performance, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

George scoffs, staring down at the cocky boy, a smirk playing on his lips as if he is right, “I will pull up the video.” George warns.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Clay drawls, the pet name makes George cringe, it only comes out when they argue like this, but in ways it makes George’s stomach flutter. He stares at him for a second longer before walking over to where his phone sits, connected to the studio bluetooth. He opens it and immediately goes to his camera roll, clicking on the dance album, he doesn't need any other unwanted things showing up, unwanted private things.

He finds the video quickly, of course he does. It’s from when they first nailed their routine, the day they made it and planned it perfectly. He clicks play, hearing the beat start and he watches himself and Clay perform. He watches his body move along with Clay’s. He sees himself get on his knees to seductively wave his flowy, short, hair and arch his back, showing off his ass beautifully. He sees Clay bite his lip, something he hadn't noticed in the video until now.

Clay lets George crawl up to him, smirking at the boy as his arm’s immediately settle on his waist, sitting the boy in his lap. George watches their bodies where they connect, George’s body moves forward once and then Clay thrusts up. Fuck.

“See, sweetheart, I was right.” Clay whispers from behind George, startling him. The beat still plays through the speakers as the rest of the routine gets completed.

“You’re an asshole.” George says.

“You just don't know when to back down do you?” Clay asks, he knows the answer already, they’ve been doing this for awhile now, at least a few years. It’s nothing special, they just get out on stage wearing skimpy clothes, George mainly playing to twink and Clay playing as Dream, it's rough and taxing, but it pays well, especially when they are as well known as they are.

They practically play around in water while their clothes get soaked, it makes it “hotter” or whatever. Entertaining men and women, whoever may join to watch. They get approached every time they finish a set, asking if they are looking for a third, it's always a “No, thank you,” because they aren't looking for one. They are two co-workers dancing seductively. Hell they aren't even dating.

“Shut up,” George growls, “let's go again.”

Clay sighs, following George to the middle of the room, facing the mirrors, he sits down first and waits for George to settle in his lap. George does as he knows, sitting down in Clay’s lap before he calls out to the bluetooth speaker, asking it to press play on their song. It does as asked, playing the starting beats. George closes his eyes counting, he feels Clay’s breath on him, Clay’s hands settle where they are supposed to, George’s waist, George settles his own on Clay’s shoulders and before he knows it, he is swept away into the routine. Clay not being Clay anymore but instead he turns into Dream, George does the same, breathing heavily and completely turning into his stage name, 404.