Chapter Text
It was hard to guess which one of them was more nervous when they were both working really hard at hiding it. For all the effort was worth, at least the crew seemed to be blissfully unaware of the inner workings of Dream and Hob’s relationship, or even know that it was there. Maybe they thought that their long staring matches were just porn star foreplay.
The cameramen were Dream’s; experienced and trained at whichever filming company Dream had plucked them from. Hob hadn’t seen any of their work, but he didn’t really need to – he could recognise skill. He had worked with many different studios and seen people stumbling around, hands shaking, knocking their expensive equipment over, and walking into each other’s line of view, and when he compared that to the certainty that these two men exuded, he knew that their long-awaited collab video would be caught in the highest quality.
Lighting was Hob’s, set up by him the day prior. They thought that, since they were filming at Dream’s place (because Hob’s living room couldn’t take more than four people even if two were confined to the couch), and it would probably be a one-time-only thing, they should bring something from Hob’s videos there, and great, bright lighting, as opposed to Dream’s usually dim and gloomy atmosphere, was an easy way to do it.
The infamous script that they had been working on for two months lay abandoned, for now, on the coffee table, which had been moved aside to give the filming more space. While Dream was finishing up whatever he was doing in the bathroom, Hob was avoiding putting his clothes on because he didn’t want to wrinkle them (or sweat through them) before they even started. They were really playing the wow, if you told me that guy’s a history teacher, I’d totally believe it card. Hob didn’t use his ability to look like the personification of the concept of history teaching too often, but Dream, supported by both Matthew and Jessamy, thought that it would be fitting for this video.
Jessamy and Matthew were still arguing over who should do the editing, and they would probably keep arguing even after the filming started, Hob was sure. He was beginning to worry that this small thing would break up a years-old friendship.
Some time later, the cameramen had everything ready; a few cameras were placed stationary where they thought they would get the best angles, and more spots to move the cameras to if it wasn’t working were marked on the floor with subtle stickers. There would be no fumbling and stumbling around to capture the show that would disturb the pair once they got into it.
Dream emerged from the bathroom in a silky black robe, his hair wilder than usual and light eyeliner on his eyes the only visible reasons why he would even spend more than an hour getting showered and dressed. He was glowing, though, as much as he allowed himself to be in front of strange people (which meant it was probably invisible to anyone but Hob, who knew what to look for), and his subtle good mood calmed Hob’s nerves significantly.
Like the angel that he was, Dream broke up the fight between the agents by telling them that he would do the editing with the help of whoever he chose, not the usual contractor, and it was over like that, the two returning to friendly jabs. Then he walked over to Hob, frowning slightly at his bathrobe, which obviously wasn’t hiding anything underneath. One of the cameramen, feeling artsy, had hung out the hanger with Hob’s clothes above the couch somehow, and it fit surprisingly well with Dream’s décor.
“Ready?” Dream asked, slipping one hand into Hob’s robe to scratch through his chest hair lightly.
“Ready. You?”
“Yes,” Dream said, grinning and pressed a kiss to the corner of Hob’s mouth. “Come.” He took Hob’s hand and gently steered him to the couch. The interview was in order first, a thing that Dream insisted on for every single one of his videos.
Jessamy and Matthew stood off to the side, trying to be invisible and not an obstruction for the crew. Jessamy looked smug, and Matthew was a little bewildered as he held up his copy of the script and read the questions.
“Introduction. Dream?” Jessamy burst out laughing next to him, teasing him for his uncertainty, before she took the script away from him.
Dream, unbothered, started speaking as soon as the room was quiet. “I am Dream of the Endless, and I make heavy BDSM videos and ASMR. I also happen to be the most attractive man on OnlyFans.”
Hob smiled at the camera. “I’m Robbie, or Hobsie on some platforms, and I have sex in front of the camera for a living. And I am subscribed to his OnlyFans,” he pointed a finger at Dream, who rolled his eyes subtly and hid a smile behind a palm.
“Introduce the other,” Jessamy instructed quietly.
“Three wet black cats in a trench coat,” Hob said before Dream could say his scripted line. It earned him a mighty annoyed huff and a fit of giggles in the background.
“Robbie,” Dream intonated with a slightly mocking tone, never getting used to calling Hob that, “is the sweetest, most vanilla pansexual on the internet. And he stole my bathrobe.”
“My sweet Dream,” Hob said as sweetly as possible, “is the most wanted Dom of the century. And the most intense one. He is so extra,” he added in a loud whisper. “And he bought me this bathrobe.” (It was true – the bathrobe had appeared in Dream’s bathroom the second time Hob was staying over, and it was orange, something that Dream wouldn’t touch with a stick from five meters away.)
“What’s gonna happen in the video?”
Dream looked to Hob, letting him answer first.
“I’m going to be dominated by the most wanted man in the industry, and it will be the first time I do anything even remotely BDSM,” he told a lie – a sexy lie, as they called it. Of course, they had been exploring the ever-growing boundaries of Hob’s comfort in private for weeks. But the internet loved the first times narrative.
“I am going to give Robbie the sweetest first time,” Dream promised the camera before turning back to Hob, looking for any signs of hesitance in his face. There were none. Yet. And probably wouldn’t be. But Dream remained plagued by the fear of messing up, going against his promise, and hurting Hob. It didn’t hurt to be careful.
“Safewords.”
Dream nudged Hob with a knee, a subtle reassuring gesture that was not needed. “What is your safeword?”
“Pineapple.”
“My safeword is fates,” Dream said while suppressing a chuckle, because, as he had said, even Hob’s safeword was somehow vanilla as hell. “Tell me about the traffic light system,” he said next, or perhaps ordered would be a more fitting word. He was gradually slipping into the role, taking it one step at a time for Hob’s benefit.
“Green means go on, yellow means I need to slow down, and red means stop immediately.”
“Good,” Dream purred, and Hob blushed as warmth spread through his chest.
“That’s all,” Jessamy announced, flipping a page in the script. Dream nodded to the man behind the camera to let him know that this part was over and then stood up, stretching his limbs, while Hob changed in the next room. Modesty was ironic, given how much of him the crew would soon see, but he liked to dress in peace (and didn’t want anyone to see him fail to tie up a tie knot on the first try due to his nerves).
Hob was wearing a white dress shirt, grey slacks, and a waistcoat. No shoes – for convenience and comfort – but white socks to make it look more formal than bare feet. Dream had picked the outfit for him and bought him a pretty silk tie to go with it. Picking out their outfits for special occasions was one of the things that could easily be written off as romantic but were quite important to Dream. It helped him feel in control of something, and Hob was happy to provide, especially when it sometimes ended with a new addition to his wardrobe when Dream couldn’t find anything that matched his particular outfit.
Hob looked good, and he knew that Dream would look even better, but he had no idea what exactly Dream would be wearing until he walked back into the living room just as Dream slid his silky robe off his shoulders and casually threw it at Jessamy.
Dream looked stunning. He looked like a sin, or several sins in one. Of course, he was wearing all black, but where Hob had expected jeans and a plain t-shirt, Dream went extra-extra. Bare feet, black leggings that hugged his long legs perfectly (and his ass), and a long-sleeve lace top decorated with black flowers. On his throat, there was a thin black chain necklace that Hob had given him on their one-month anniversary (don’t ask, don’t comment on it; just go along with it).
When Dream finally turned to face Hob, he was smirking, well aware of what he was doing to Hob. His nipples were hardened underneath the lace, one of them clearly visible through the sheer fabric, and the other just partially hidden behind a flower. Hob wanted to suck them through the lace, but he knew that that would not happen until after the shoot, if at all.
“This is just not fair,” he said, only whining a little as he crossed the room. “You are already breaking away from the script,” he complained as he kissed Dream on the corner of his mouth. Dream turned his head to catch a proper kiss.
“Am I?” he asked in feign innocence. “I recall that it says that we are both to be fully dressed.”
“Yeah, and you are dressed like a wet dream,” Hob hissed against his lips. “It also says I shouldn’t be hard – you quite insisted on that. How am I supposed to not be hard when you look like this?”
“Drink some water?” Dream suggested, batting his eyelashes at him.
“You prick,” Hob huffed before kissing him for the last time and heading to the small catering table in the next room that they had set up there, both as emergency snacks for them and food for the crew. It had already been thoroughly picked through, but there was still enough food for an army. From Hob’s experience, it would come in handy later.
After getting his refreshment and getting his body back under control, Hob returned to Dream, standing on the plush carpet, waiting. He was as ready as he would ever be. He knew the script by heart – not that there was actually much for him to say, since Dream would be improvising his lines and adjusting his actions to Hob’s state of mind. Everything was in place. Time for the strangest collaboration that anyone has ever attempted.
“Are you ready?” Dream asked in a muted tone, giving Hob the chance to ask for more time privately without unsettling the people watching them. But he didn’t need more time. He gently squeezed Dream’s hand and nodded.
“Ready for you,” he grinned, just for Dream, because he had recently learned that his smiles were one of the first things that the other had fallen for.
“We shall begin, then,” Dream said loudly, and the room went silent.
Everyone took up their positions and got their equipment ready. Matthew and Jessamy remained off to the side, though they would sneak out sooner or later. Neither of them needed to bear witness to this, but they seemed intent on watching at least for a few minutes to see if it was actually happening. (They had no right to be shocked, given that their evil machinations were what led these two to do this.) Hob walked out of the view of the camera, waiting for Dream’s signal. There would be a vague plot for them to follow, and it started with him coming home.
Dream took a deep breath in that subtle way that he often preferred, hesitant to show that he had feelings like any other person. Then he turned towards Hob, smiled, schooled his face into a neutral expression, and nodded.
Hob walked up to Dream at a casual pace, smiling. “Hello, love.”
“Hello,” Dream repeated after him contemplatively, gently gripping Hob’s chin between two of his fingers as he came close. Hob’s hands twitched at his side with the urge to touch Dream, but it wasn’t the right time to push his luck.
“How was work?” Dream asked, using the grip on Hob’s chin to turn his head to the side and up, exposing his throat, which bobbed with a heavy swallow before Hob gathered the wits to reply.
“Lonely,” he said, letting his eyes fall shut while Dream continued to toy with him, turning his head this way and that.
“You are being very good right now,” Dream hummed quietly. “Will you let me do anything I please with you today?”
“Anything,” Hob promised, swallowing the as long as you let me love you. Dream heard it anyway, and his face turned possessive, proud. He was proud of Hob, and Hob ate it up like honey, even though it was just a minute change in expression.
“Then I shall have my way with you,” Dream mused. “And I will make sure you are never lonely again.”
“Please,” Hob gasped, and it was not a part of the script; it just slipped out, but it was alright. There were no more lines, and he was supposed to eventually start begging anyway. In situations like this, he was okay with begging. As long as Dream didn’t withhold anything from him that he felt he needed, he was comfortable.
Dream didn’t say anything else, taking a step back and slowly sitting down on the couch, keeping his hold on Hob’s chin to guide him to his knees. Automatically, Hob’s hands went behind his back, clasped together. It drove Dream crazy to see him like that, and it was not actually restrictive, as he found out, so he did it often.
A gust of air behind him was the only sign that the cameras were moving, the crewmen remaining completely silent. Slipping into the illusion that it was just the two of them was easy and helped him relax, so Hob pretended that he and Dream were the only people in the world.
“Please,” he repeated, this time sounding a bit less desperate. “I want your name written on my skin; I want to be yours; I want to forget everybody else until it is just us.”
“You want?” Dream asked, stroking Hob’s lower lip with his thumb. He must have looked like an ancient god, only half listening to his faithful worshipper, too absorbed with his godly duties to truly listen. Hob wouldn’t know how Dream looked as a whole in that moment because he was too focused on his beautiful eyes and pink lips, every minute twitch of them.
“Most of all,” Hob corrected himself, “I want you to be satisfied with me. Nothing else matters.”
And Dream’s lips twitched upward, a small thing that nobody else would pick up on, before he said: “Oh, beloved, I am always satisfied with you. You are my worthiest lover, always so obedient, so good for me.” He finally let go of Hob’s chin and instead started toying with his tie. “Show me how good you can be. Take your clothes off and fold them nicely.”
Hob nodded, all too eager to move forward. He started with the tie, untying it and wrapping it around his palm loosely to prevent the sensitive material from wrinkling. Then he unbuttoned his waistcoat, one button at a time. If he cared for anything else in the world, he would notice the cameras moving in his peripherals, trying to capture the show that he made of stripping. But he did not see them, and neither did Dream, captured by the look of pure devotion on Hob’s face.
The waistcoat was folded over two times and placed on the sofa next to Dream. The shirt went next, and this time, Hob made sure to be more teasing about it. But in the end, it was probably only a few seconds anyway, and he folded the shirt as best he could, gathered all three items, and stood up to carry them away, as was scripted. He returned to the exact same spot where he had been, in the same position, kneeling with his hands behind his back. All that remained on his upper body was a shark-tooth necklace on a leather string, a courtesy from Dream. A clear show of who he belonged to.
“So good for me,” Dream hummed and used one hand to push Hob backward until he sat down on his haunches, leaning slightly away from Dream, finally getting a good view of his partner. Dream’s posture screamed king and not porn star. There was no doubt that he owned the place and everyone in it, and especially Hob.
Dream unhurriedly pushed his pants lower and pulled out his cock. He was fully hard, and Hob’s mouth watered. If there was ever any doubt in his mind about the part of their plays that felt plain silly to him, he only needed to look below Dream’s waist, at the way his cock twitched at every little show of submission from Hob.
Noticing Hob’s hungry gaze, which had never returned to Dream’s eyes once his cock made an appearance, Dream pretended to wonder. “Oh? You would like to suck me?” he asked, as if it was surprising.
“I want nothing more than to have you in my mouth, to make you feel good,” Hob said honestly, but he, with great effort, remained just where Dream had put him. “I want to bring you pleasure, please.”
“You really know how to ask nicely,” Dream praised, cupping Hob’s cheek with one hand and pulling him towards his crotch. Hob’s lips fell open on instinct.
Dream paused when Hob was close to what he wanted. He let go of his cock to cup Hob’s face with both hands and make him look up. “Colour?” he asked. His voice was so different from the Dom voice that he had been using for the past several minutes that Hob felt like he had whiplash.
“Green,” he said loud and clear. He did not need to think about it too hard; the only discomfort, mental or physical, that he felt was an ache in his knee. Not a disconcerting one either, just the dull ache of an old scar that couldn’t get better or worse.
“Good,” Dream said, leaning in for a quick kiss, his tongue slipping just past the line of Hob’s parted lips. That was for Dream – a bit of self-indulgence.
As soon as Dream settled back into his position, the scene continued as if it had never been interrupted (and in the video, it would look just like that, with the check-in cut out). Dream pulled Hob’s mouth to his cock and kept his hand on his cheek while Hob littered loving kisses all over the pink head of Dream’s gorgeous prick. Dream didn’t force him to move on faster, just moved his hand to his hair, gently scratching his scalp until Hob was ready to get on with the business.
First, of course, they were filming porn, so he stuck his tongue out and looked up at Dream, letting the head of his cock rest on the tip of his tongue, and he was sure it looked amazingly wanting on the camera, which was now almost in his face, the cameraman half-kneeling on the couch armrest. After that bit, Hob kept eye contact while he sucked Dream’s prick into his mouth. He hummed in pleasure, making up for Dream’s carefully controlled lack of reactions.
Hob really liked giving head, and he lost himself in it, already knowing everything that Dream liked. He pulled off and sucked on the sensitive skin right under the head. He hummed as he took more of him, letting Dream feel the vibrations of his voice along all of his length. Finally, he relaxed his throat and took Dream all the way. He could drive Dream insane like that, and for a minute it looked like Dream would let him, would throw the script out of the window and just fuck his throat to competition.
But they were filming, so even as Dream’s fingers twitched in his hair in frustration, he held back. He even suggested some changes in positions and different angles to film, and Hob did his best to keep up while having the time of his life and being achingly hard in his pants. They had to take a ten-minute break for the sake of his poor throat, and as he sipped his water and stretched his legs, he delighted in the knowledge that Dream was exactly as excited to get back to it as he was. Dream checked the timer on his phone twice a minute.
When they got back to it, Dream fucked his mouth for a while, taking a bit more control over the situation in a way that Hob was familiar with. Oral sex was a huge win-win for the both of them, given Hob’s oral fixation the size of ol’ England and the way it made Dream feel a sense of power over the other.
Then it was time to move on, and Hob stubbornly pressed a goodbye kiss to Dream’s slit as he was pulled off. Whoever came up with scripts? They should have just improvised the whole thing. Dream was of the same opinion, but his self-control was much better.
“Now it is time for me to take something from you, don’t you think, beloved?” he asked, stroking Hob’s face gently.
“Anything you want,” Hob said, showing off how scratchy and deep his voice got with the prolonged blowjob. “I’m yours.”
“Yes, you are,” Dream hissed, sliding his hand to Hob’s neck to hold him possessively. He was very careful not to be restrictive, to the point that it was probably visible to the viewers, but who cared? The words were what mattered. “You belong to me, all of you, forever. I will have you every day, in every way, until you cannot stand the sight of me. You want my name on your skin? I will write it into every atom of your essence.”
Hob moaned, a shiver wrecking through his body. Dream watched his reaction with a pleased smile, letting his hand slide even lower to toy with his necklace possessively. Hob had once called Dream a shark; that’s where the shark tooth came from.
(“Us vanilla guys are small fish in a sea filled with piranhas; someone like me will never get the audience that an average Daddy has. A bunch of sardines swimming with piranhas is what we are.”
“What am I in this allegory? A piranha?”
“Nah, you’re a shark, the biggest and most dangerous of them all.”)
“Up you go,” Dream said, helping Hob get on the couch with a possessive grip on his hips. As soon as Hob was lying down, Dream straddled his thighs, his pants discarded somewhere along the way. He started stroking his chest and sides, squeezing wherever he could. When his hands got to Hob’s pants, he ghosted his fingers over the outline of his erection.
“So hard for me,” Dream hummed, teasing lightly. “I cannot wait to have you inside me. You will fill me up nicely, and you will let me ride you as long as I wish.”
Hob groaned and nodded. The trickiest part of the script was determining which one of them would top. There were good arguments for both, and Hob being the bottom would probably bring them slightly more revenue, but in the end, they thought that since Hob would already be vulnerable, in a submissive position, getting a hard fucking would increase the risk of him falling apart. Naturally, he loved the way Dream fucked, but when they added a certain dynamic to it, it became emotionally convoluted.
Between one second and the next, all seriousness melted off Dream’s face. He poked his finger one more time into the very visible wet spot on the front of Hob’s pants and then brought his hands up to bury them in his hair, stroking the brown locks lovingly. “Colour?”
Hob smiled and let some tension bleed out of his muscles. “Green,” he said, feeling pretty happy where he was, straddled by his sexy boyfriend, about to be made to finger him open and then fuck him stupid. He was pretty certain that tens of thousands of people envied his position.
“Do you need a break?” Dream asked, and he was just as distracted as Hob, taken aback by the way the other man relaxed underneath him easily.
“Mmm, a two-minute kissing break?” Hob suggested.
“A kissing break?” Dream huffed.
Instead of explaining himself, Hob leaned up and connected their lips in a chaste kiss. Dream was the one to deepen it, shifting on top of Hob and licking at his lips until he parted them and let Dream in.
When he pulled back, Dream was smiling. “I can see you have great arguments. Two-minute break, then.” He didn’t lean back in and instead stayed in place, hovering over Hob and looking into his eyes, soaking in the way even his eyes were smiling warmly.
“Wait, are you guys dating or something?” someone suddenly asked. Hob had almost forgotten about the other people in the room. He still didn’t know their names; he wasn’t sure if Dream just called his employees Thing One and Thing Two, but he didn’t care much.
“Are we dating?” he chuckled. “I’ve never seen this guy in my life.” He leaned up to nip at Dream’s ear, one of Dream’s secret spots that not many probably knew about. “I don’t know why he’s staring at me; somebody help, please.” He all but melted into the couch, tilting his head back as much as he could and exposing his neck to Dream, who gladly took the invitation and laid kisses all the way along the column of his throat.
“Sorry, not my business,” the cameraman said, and Hob had to muffle another chuckle. He understood the confusion. He was pretty sure nobody had ever seen Dream act this way. Treating his subs nice, yes. But long, loving eye contact and playful teasing, hell no. That was only for Hob.
Their little break helped Hob chase away nervousness that he didn’t even know he felt. Dream downed a glass of water and helped him take a couple sips too, and then they returned to the previous position. Dream shuffled higher and used one hand to hold Hob’s head in place while he kissed him filthy and deep. With his other hand, he guided Hob’s hand to his ass, squeezing his wrist firmly once before letting go. Hob didn’t need any encouragement to do what was expected.
There was a bottle of lube hidden between the couch cushions (Dream’s couch was full of surprises, as Hob had come to learn). They didn’t need to part for one second while Hob started fingering Dream open. Dream was already nice and loose from whatever prep he had done in the shower, so it only took a few minutes. Hob had been told not to tease, which he begrudgingly agreed to. Dream rewarded him with murmured praises or directions gasped into his ear. Dream was enjoying himself, even though things like this sometimes felt silly during filming, especially if you were trying to make it look good.
Finally, Dream told him sternly to stop, and Hob pulled his fingers out with a wet sound. Dream kissed him one last time before he pulled away. “Put your hands above your head, and keep them there,” he said, watching intently as Hob obeyed. His pupils widened visibly as the muscles in Hob’s upper body flexed with the movement.
Dream didn’t waste time, pulling Hob’s pants and underwear down to his ankles at once before he straddled him, positioning himself above his leaking cock. After waiting for this for as long as he did, Hob was so wet that it looked as if Dream had poured the remainder of the lube bottle on him. Some of his partners in the past had asked him to try and be less messy, but Dream loved the mess.
“Be a good boy now,” Dream warned lightly as he teased his hole with Hob’s tip, just rocking against him without bearing down. It was maddening. Hob wasn’t a selfish lover, but he was sure that he had been hard for at least an hour now, and what he needed was right there above him, looking at him like a shark would look at a particularly tasty treat. He would be devoured.
Hob closed his eyes briefly and tried to find a way into that pleasant headspace that Dream had shown him. He was not being hurt or taken advantage of or punished. He was just being teased. Dream was taking pleasure in his body, and the fact that Hob let him do that was turning him on like nothing else. He could do that. He could be good and let Dream enjoy himself.
When he opened his eyes, he was met with Dream’s concerned frown. Dream didn’t check in with him, but Hob knew that he could say anything and Dream would stop. Instead, he winked at him, smirking. Dream understood and relaxed – or tensed up – depending how you looked at him. Even though he was about to be fucked into the next Thursday, he looked regal above Hob.
Hob squirmed. He could feel Dream’s rim catching against the sensitive skin of his cock, promising to swallow him whole if he just raised his hips slightly, but Dream wanted him to last just a bit longer, so instead of wiggling his hips and trying to push inside, he arched his chest, held his own wrists – tried to work out the frustration in ways that wouldn’t break Dream’s rules (and at the same time looked good on camera).
“You’re perfect,” Dream sighed so low that the mic wouldn’t have a chance to catch it. Slowly, he began to sink down, his face screwing up in effort as he took Hob’s considerable length.
Finally. Hob groaned and threw his head back, all of his self-control going into not thrusting up into the heat that enveloped him. Being inside Dream had never felt better, but he suspected that it had a lot to do with the delayed gratification. He felt hypersensitive, feeling the warmth and slickness and pulsing of Dream’s inner muscles in his every nerve. He swore he felt it even in his teeth. And Dream didn’t stop sinking down on him until he took him whole.
“Break,” Hob gasped out as soon as Dream was seated on top of him. “Fuck, I’m gonna go off like a teenager. You feel amazing, love.”
Dream hummed and wiggled his hips a little before he leaned up and laced their fingers together. Hob didn’t even realise that he had managed to keep his hands up where they were, but he was glad that he had, because now, with Dream leaning over him like a demon of lust, holding him down but not quite, squeezing his fingers reassuringly, he felt like he could sink through the couch, through the ground, and come up on the other side of the planet. He felt so light.
“There you go,” Dream whispered against his lip. “You are doing so good, Hob. We are almost there. I can barely hold back myself.”
If that wasn’t power, nothing was. Hob whimpered and nodded, ready to go on, and Dream pulled back, but not before he kissed him thoroughly.
Dream started moving, slowly at first, droning on in his deep voice about… something. Hob wasn’t really listening, too focused on the mesmerising way Dream’s body moved on top of his, on the subtle signs of pleasure on his face. He did that by just lying there prettily.
Dream rode him with his hands on Hob’s chest, on his soft belly, on his knees, showing off his body at all angles, and never breaking eye contact with Hob, because Hob was all that mattered to him. His lips kept moving, but Hob understood nothing until he heard Dream say move, loud and clear, so he did. He could not hold himself back after that, lips fallen slack, moans and groans escaping him with every thrust as he buried himself in Dream’s tight hole. At some point, he tried to reach for Dream, hold his hips, but he remembered himself mid-move and returned his hands where they belonged. Dream kissed him for that, groaning quietly into his mouth as Hob thrust right against his sweet spot.
With a gentle grip on his hair, Dream tilted his head back and started kissing his throat again, sucking faint marks into his skin, scratching him with his teeth. Dream was getting louder, though probably not loud enough for anyone else to hear, and Hob could tell he was close.
“I want you to cum first,” Dream said sweetly. “Can you do that for me?”
Hob didn’t know if he could, but he would do anything for Dream, especially now when he was drowning in Dream’s affection and possession of his body. He nodded jerkily and focused on his own pleasure, changing the rhythm slightly. He was close; he could basically taste it in his mouth, but something was missing, something was wrong, and he could not get over the edge.
But Dream knew what he needed better than he did, and he cradled Hob’s face and ordered him: “Cum for me, Hob.”
As if Dream had taken shackless off his pleasure, Hob was suddenly overwhelmed by it, coming loudly inside of Dream, fucking his spend as deep into him as he could. His vision went white, and he was pretty sure that he was crying overwhelmed tears – it felt so good – but when Dream quickly guided one of his hands to his cock, Hob was able to do what was wanted from him and jerk him off quickly with long and hard strokes until Dream was spilling all over his chest.
For a few amazing seconds, the world was just white noise and a distant fog, and Hob weighted nothing and nothing mattered. Then it started coming back to him one thing at a time, but before he could be overwhelmed, Dream’s lips were gently nuzzling against his, and he was being pulled into a hug, no longer sprawled on his back but on his side.
Hob curled up against Dream’s chest and continued to float. When it first happened, it scared him, but now he knew that he was safe, as long as Dream was with him. He could allow himself to just be there, knowing that nothing else would be asked of him tonight and that Dream liked being there with him.
Dream had been quiet – or Hob thought he had – so when he heard a whispered thank you, he looked up to see what was going on. Dream was holding an open water bottle and drinking slowly, and even as he was doing that, he was keeping an eye on Hob.
“Are you ready to drink some water?” Dream asked him, holding the bottle out to him.
Hob swallowed, feeling his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He could use some water, so he nodded. He positioned himself so Dream could help him drink; because Dream always helped him drink at times like this, and it was nice to be cared for when he was floating. When his sight grew more focused, he saw that Dream’s face was flushed, his pupils wide. He looked like he had taken something and was high. Perhaps he was also floating, Hob thought distantly.
The rest of the process wasn’t so pleasant, but Hob had learned to just let Dream guide him through it. Dream helped him sit up and held him in a half-hug while he tried to dry the cum on his chest with a rag. Most of it remained stubbornly clinging to his chest hair, but at least he wasn’t a biohazard anymore.
Then the questions started, and Hob pushed his face into the crook of Dream’s neck, because he wasn’t ready to start talking yet. So, instead of questions, he got his fluffy, soft soft soft, and warm bathrobe wrapped around him, Dream gently coaxing him to put his arms through the sleeves until he could wear it properly.
“How do you feel, Hob?” Dream hummed the question into his hair, hugging him again.
“Good,” Hob replied, stubbornly giving only one-word answers.
“Any pains?”
“No.”
“Do you want to eat something?”
“You.”
A chuckle. “I am not on the menu, beloved.”
Hob huffed, but he let Dream pull his face up. He squinted through the influx of light until he got accustomed to it again and then smiled at his lover’s face. “Hello,” he said.
“Hello, Hob,” Dream replied, amused. “Are you back?”
“Mmm, maybe?” Hob wasn’t sure. He still felt good, but when he tried really hard, he could even produce a thought or two. Distantly, he was aware that that was not the natural state of his mind, but it was a pleasant state.
“A few more minutes, then,” Dream noted, stroking his hair off his forehead.
Eventually, the world became sharp again. Hob started noticing what was going on around him, mainly that everyone was gone, giving them privacy. He really appreciated that.
Hob was surprised at how unwilling he felt to do the ending interview, but Dream insisted, since all of his videos had it and, especially with Hob being the co-star, people could be concerned. He was bribed into it, in the end, when Dream started putting his leggings back on, standing with his back to Hob and leaning all the way down, giving him not only the view of his perfect ass and legs but also of Hob’s cum leaking down his thighs. Fine, Hob could sit in front of the camera one more time.
They kind of stumbled their way through the questions, with Dream pressing a kiss to Hob’s temple each time he spoke, or didn’t speak, or really each time he took a breath, because apparently, they were both feeling extra cuddly. They sat snuggled up so close that there was no denying that they were more than business partners, but neither of them cared at the moment. Let fans have fan theories, and may the comment section explode.
When all was said and done, Dream shooed everyone out. There was some clean-up to be done (tomorrow), but Dream had special plans for the remainder of their day. Hob was still kind of slow, so he didn’t notice Dream picking up some plates with food, champagne glasses, and a bottle and carrying it to the bathroom. The dots didn’t connect for him until he was being helped into the steaming tub, all soreness leaving his body as if it could be washed away as easily as sweat.
“Will you let me spoil you some more?” Dream asked, sitting behind him and holding him close, almost clutching to him.
“You may spoil me rotten, dove,” Hob hummed. He didn’t understand anymore how this kind of behaviour could have scared him. Dream made him feel vulnerable, but he also made him feel safe, and nothing could ruin that peace of mind for him. He opened himself to Dream’s caring affections, opened his mouth to be fed grapes when Dream told him so in hushed tones, drank champagne when Dream pressed the glass to his lips, and he floated for eternity.