Chapter Text
They had two very different careers.
Morpheus, alias Dream of the Endless, had been in the industry for ages. He had basically started as soon as he was of age, earning extra money for his studies by chatting to sad, horny men on sites designed for sad, horny men. He would sell photos of various parts of his body in different stages of undress and not have to worry about bills after he cut contact with his family.
The first time someone told him that his voice was beautiful, a light bulb went off above his head, and slowly, Morpheus started doing more and more. He realised that he actually enjoyed this side hustle, all the attention it brought him, and the control he had over his audience. He never let himself feel pressured into doing something, avoiding trends that didn’t speak to him and declining partnerships and requests that he didn’t feel comfortable with. Maybe it slowed down his career growth for a while, but as a result, he never had to deal with a burnout. He was great at this.
Eventually, his view on life goals shifted. He knew that, especially with a degree, he could have a much more stable career, unthreatened by constant, annoying changes in laws that were meant to protect him but only served to try and take his livelihood away. But something about sex work made him actually feel good, like he was in control of his own life. His parents had once tried to outline his whole life for him but forgot to give him a single choice or ask him what he wanted to be. But on the internet, he could be himself, and he ultimately chose the path of a full-time sex worker.
Today, he was on the top of his industry, and never looked back. His OnlyFans earned him enough to cover most life expenses, and what he earned by filming porn videos was a nice bonus and eventually led to a life of luxury. He found his audience in the BDSM community, becoming a professional Dom, though he rarely took private sessions anymore. His most popular videos were collaborations with other actors in the community, famous or not. His favourite content to film, though, was solo, and though it didn’t earn him the most views or tips, it definitely always got the best reactions.
After fifteen years of sex work, Morpheus was very well aware that he was attractive. Even though he himself couldn’t find the beauty in his pale skin, lanky body that struggled to keep weight on, and a face that hadn’t known a smile since he was maybe five years old, the stats didn’t lie. People liked how he looked, and if a simple photo of him lounging at home with a book in only his underwear in the middle of summer could earn him hundreds of pounds in tips, he could be proud of his sunray-repelling body.
He could just sit in front of the camera, jerk himself off and moan in his deep voice – and sometimes he did just that – and his career wouldn’t suffer. But why do that when he could Dom the pants off his viewers? His ASMR videos brought him the biggest power trip that his ego could handle, always having dozens of comments along the lines of didn’t make it to the end, came too soon, and I’ve never met you but I’d kill for that voice if you told me to.
Control. It was his greatest guilty pleasure in life.
Robert Gadling, alias Robbie or Hobsie, depending on the platform (because screw Robbie from Kentucky, who had stolen his nickname on several platforms), was not a veteran porn star. He had started filming only a few years ago and grew inexplicably – in his opinion, at least – popular.
Hob – because that’s the only name that really fit him, though he never dared use it in front of the camera lest people realise that he was actually a history professor in disguise and therefore boring – started doing porn videos after an ex-girlfriend told him that he would be very popular thanks to his, as she had called it, monstrous cock. He thought that his manhood was pretty normal – okay, it was bigger than average; it was big, but not special – but gave the thought a thorough consideration in his drunken state that night. And then again when he was sober.
His first few videos were solo. He was basically testing his ex’s theory, seeing if his body really could be appealing. At that point in life, he had close to a dad bod, and he was hairy as a bear. Which, as it turned out, was a huge plus. His silly jerking off in front of a camera while sweet-talking the dead, heartless object turned out to gain quite the audience, and soon he gained the confidence to push forward. He had always been stubborn enough to do anything he set his mind to anyway, and he needed the extra cash.
He was uncomfortable with the idea of filming the most popular stuff. He could not imagine treating anyone the way people were often treated in what seemed to be the most popular porn categories. He chose his own path, satisfied with a smaller but loyal audience. He was not the first to do soft porn, feelings, gentleness, pure vanilla, and plot arcs. He was not even the most popular in that category, but he didn’t care about fame all that much. He genuinely enjoyed filming with people with whom he had a connection and having slow and sensual sex on camera to fulfil his viewers’ fantasies of gentle and caring lovers.
At some point, of course, Hob had to start taking his career seriously. He got an agent and an editor, all that stuff that distinguished him from amateur to professional, in his eyes. He was very picky about whom he collaborated with because the connection was important to him, but as long as there was chemistry, he didn’t care if he slept with a man, a woman, someone in between, or beyond the binary.
His agent, Matthew, had been his pub pal for years, and alcohol had, once again, played a big role in how they became business partners. Coincidentally, Matthew had been a social media manager for various kinds of personalities for years, and he had a good friend, Jessamy, who had studied at the same school as him and later specialised more in the sex work industry. Matthew’s drunken confidence that with a few tips from his friend he could make Hob the most famous vanilla on the internet – a loud and confusing exclamation that had been, to Hob’s horror, overheard by the whole pub – turned out mostly true.
Hob trusted Matthew with his career. He let his agent handle emails and phone calls, filtering out people who he knew Hob would not want to work with and negotiating prices, terms, etcetera. Matthew was a good agent, so Hob was rightfully shocked when he was approached with the most insane collab proposal that he had ever heard.
Morpheus frowned and didn’t say anything. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop, the punchline, anything that would explain why his agent and friend was speaking such nonsense.
When the silence stretched, his frown deepened, and he looked down at Jessamy’s tablet again, scrolling through Robbie’s body of work. He didn’t open any of the videos, given that they were meeting at a café, but even from the titles and the flickering preview images, he could tell that Robbie was the most vanilla person in the world. The closest he got to what Dream usually did were plot arcs and roleplays.
Again, Morpheus looked at his agent and raised his eyebrows. He still did not understand the proposal. But all Jessamy said was: “Consider it. I know that you would work well together. He’s your type.”
As absurd as it was, Morpheus considered that his friend had an evil twin who was now meeting with him instead of his agent. “You joke,” he said slowly, gauging her reaction. She rolled her eyes, which was very Jessamy of her, and tapped the tablet to send him to a different platform on another tab. It was only thanks to his respect for his friend that Morpheus looked down and gave Robbie – no, Hobsie now – another chance.
His confusion only grew because he still couldn’t see any proof that Hobsie would be interested in any kind of BDSM experience, least of all being Domed by the Dream of the Endless. Hobsie or Robbie worked with both men and women, but he never stepped out of his comfort zone, which was clearly a tight circle drawn around his feet. Where Dream would experiment and venture into hardcore BDSM from time to time, Hobsie only dared to roleplay something that was titled I Met My Cute Student at the Bar, We Didn’t Say Anything and DID IT IN THE BATHROOM.
Charming. Clearly filmed in his own bathroom, too.
“I really, truly do not understand what you mean,” Morpheus said finally, turning off the tablet screen.
Jessamy rolled her eyes again, as if it were obvious. “Well, obviously, I’m not suggesting anything crazy; that’s not what he does. But I think you two could have a nice, softer collab or even several. I swear you will click. He’ll make you melt, Ice King.”
Morpheus wrinkled his nose. It was a nickname given to him commonly, but not one that he appreciated. He wasn’t without a heart, without feelings – quite the opposite. He just kept his feelings in check, hidden deep on the inside, and definitely didn’t bring them into his videos or his social media.
“Look,” Jessamy continued, “I’ll send you some of his videos that prove my point and set up a meeting. Nothing binding – Matthew, his agent, agreed that you two should meet before anything particular is discussed. Give it a thought. Please. For me?”
Usually, Morpheus would break if Jessamy pulled out the big eyes at him. But the name caught his attention, and after searching his memory for a while, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Matthew, your friend from college?” he asked suspiciously. “Matthew, who you had gone out with drinking last weekend?”
Jessamy smiled the least innocent smile he had ever seen. “I can explain.”
“Dream,” Hob repeated in a deadpan, loud and clear. “Of the Endless. Dream.”
“Yeah, that guy,” Matthew confirmed, squirming in his seat. The pub was bustling, and they had to bribe the previous occupants of their corner table with a round of shots to get there, so they could discuss in peace Matthew’s new proposal of a collab that would, in his words, skyrocket Hob’s career.
Hob looked back to the screen of his phone, where he had looked up the name that Matthew had given him. He was familiar with the name but wasn’t sure exactly who it was. As soon as the page loaded, though, he remembered where he had heard about Dream before. He was a big name in the BDSM community, and the only video that Hob had ever seen of him was a hardcore one – cock-ball-torture that he had clicked on out of morbid curiosity, sped through, and then quickly closed before he could feel permanently scarred by the sight.
“You have to admit he’s your type,” Matthew argued.
Hob raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a high bar to meet; I don’t care about looks that much.”
“Oh, come on!” Matthew scoffed. “He’s a twink. You’d love him.”
“He’d eat me alive, Matthew,” Hob exclaimed, a bit too loudly for his liking, but the pub was loud that night and nobody turned their way. “Are you pulling my leg? He’d never film with someone like me, and if he did, it wouldn’t be the stuff that I usually do. What are you trying to do here?”
Matthew dodged his eye contact and instead pulled out his phone, opening the OnlyFans app and looking up Dream of the Endless. “Look, try to tell me you wouldn’t smash him,” he said as he pushed the phone into Hob’s free hand.
Hob was tempted not to even entertain Matthew, but he budged and looked down. “You’re subscribed to his OF?” he asked with raised eyebrows as he scrolled through some photos. The thing was, he would absolutely love to have Dream. Or for Dream to have him. But their styles were wholly incompatible.
“Yeah, sure, I mean, look at him,” Matthew squirmed in front of him.
Hob squinted. “Did you suddenly discover something new about your orientation and didn’t tell your friend? I’m hurt,” he said sarcastically, knowing that Matthew really wasn’t into men. Unless he had a revelation recently. Dream of the Endless certainly seemed like the type who would make people discover something new about themselves. But still.
“Okay,” Matthew sighed, “I may have lost a bet to Jessamy a few months ago, and I have to subscribe to him for a year.”
Hob rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t not laugh at that admission. “Expensive bet,” he teased. “Hope it was worth it.”
“Har har,” Matthew scoffed, slouching in his chair. “Just so you know, she only won by one; I was one off. And I’ll get her back next month.”
“So, you’ll be purchasing the whole Dream of the Endless videography on signed DVDs next month, huh?” Hob teased, reaching for his beer. He considered the business part of their meeting to be over – Matthew had only mentioned one proposal, and that was clearly a joke to drag him here and get him to pay for the alcohol.
“You’re not as funny as you think,” Matthew grumbled and downed half of his pint, so Hob couldn’t tell if he was blushing because of his embarrassment at constantly losing bets or the alcohol anymore.
“So, about the proposal,” Matthew suddenly changed tune, and Hob’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. It was not a joke.
Morpheus sat in his comfortable gaming chair that had never been used for gaming, a soft, fluffy blanket separating his sensitive skin from the textile material of the backrest. He had made himself comfortable for some private time. He had two videos ready for this week and another one being edited that would go out next week, so he really didn’t need to film, but he needed to take care of himself.
He had a good computer setup for video and audio editing, which he still took care of himself from time to time, and the huge screen came in handy when he wanted to watch a movie or a movie. Watching pornography when he himself was a creator was strange; sometimes it felt like work, like gathering ideas or even downright stealing them, which he would rather avoid, and sometimes it just felt ridiculous because he focused on stuff like the creator’s equipment, location, and angling of the camera and forgot that he was meant to enjoy the show, and when he focused again, the people had moved on and were doing something different than five minutes ago, and his mind ran off studying their filming techniques again.
But even so, porn was still the fastest and sure-fire way to get off when he didn’t feel like getting out his toys or wasting time with prep. He had given up on one-night stands years ago, after having already given up on stable relationships. Not that he had ever had a stable relationship; even his short marriage to a fellow creator had been an absolute catastrophe.
With all of the internet at his fingertips and enough money in his bank account to pay for subscriptions or full versions of videos if anything like that caught his eye, Morpheus would like to believe that finding content that interested him would be easy. But it never was. He scrolled through the popular categories, recommendations, and even his own bookmarks, but nothing seemed to spur the spark rolling lazily around his belly. And the spark was slowly dying, which would leave him sulking in a poor mood for another day. Even his cock, which had been half hard, was not interested in the party anymore.
Slouching in his chair, Morpheus gave it five more minutes before he would give up and go to bed unsatisfied. He started opening random categories and tags without looking, playing the dangerous roulette that usually ended when one came across a kink that wasn’t for them, and only very, very rarely ended with finding something new and interesting. As the video previews changed from startingly pink-tinted to brightly lit hotel rooms to – ugh – on the beach, he sighed and closed his eyes, continuing to move his mouse across the tag list blindly and clicking from time to time without even looking to see where he had gotten.
Until he almost got a heart attack when sound suddenly started playing from his headphones.
Morpheus sat up and blinked at the screen, finding that he had somehow managed to open a random video. His ears were filled with the blissful sighs of a woman who was being eaten out by someone, and he had to give one thing to them – the bliss didn’t sound feigned at all. The woman kept carding her fingers through the man’s hair gently while he held her legs open and – presumably – did wonders with his tongue.
After cataloguing the usual – filmed in someone’s living room but with professional equipment, complimenting angles, and mood lighting that had been done justice – Morpheus returned his attention to the pair. He could see more of the man’s face now as he rested his head on the woman’s thigh, smiling at her like he was in love with her. The woman’s face was shadowed by her long hair, but since the man was not half bad to look at, Morpheus didn’t mind. He sat more comfortably and decided to give the random video a chance.
But two minutes later, they were still just teasing each other. The man was fully clothed next to the woman, which was something that Dream usually did in his videos as well, a nice detail to emphasise the dynamic, but everything else screamed vanilla, and even the clothes he was probably just reading too much into. While the actors felt genuine, the content of the video was too slow-paced for his liking, unfit for a quick jerk-off.
After another minute of on-screen gentle teasing, Morpheus grabbed his computer mouse again and decided to check out the profile, to see if there was anything more interesting but equally genuine. He clicked on the profile icon without reading the name, letting the identity of the owner of the profile be a surprise.
It belonged to the man, which Dream had to admit was the option he preferred out of the two. His upload schedule was one long video followed by two short ones – another thing that Dream unwillingly noted. He read the titles, trying to find something interesting, but in the end, he blindly clicked on the first video that started with a hashtag, hoping that it would be some challenge and would get to the point quickly.
Well, it certainly was an improvement. The man sat on a bar stool alone in a slightly darkened room, his face cut off above his dimpled chin (which had no right to be as attractive as it was), and he was naked, safe for grey boxer briefs. The outline of his manhood, hugged by the tight cotton, sparked interest in Dream, and he let go of the mouse and settled in his chair again. The video was only twelve minutes long, and even if it turned out to be boring, he thought he could suffer through that if he got to watch the impressively hairy man touch that impressively large cock.
“So, it’s hashtag Throwback Thursday again, and you guys voted which old ass video I should recreate this month,” the man spoke, and Morpheus’ interest only grew. He had a nice voice, and there was a hint of amusement to it. The sentence was followed by a warm laugh that didn’t belong to porn but should be framed on the wall in some art gallery.
“I’m never letting you vote again, you rascals,” the man said, chuckling again and, presumably, massaging his forehead out of the view of the camera.
Rascals. Morpheus was sure that this was the first time he had heard such a word in porn. It was ridiculous and somehow endearing, the way the man talked. The word almost brought Dream’s attention away from his point of interest, still hidden by grey cotton, but at the same time, the man’s hand came down to run his fingers along the outline of himself.
“So, you chose a three-year-old video where I cum two times in a row,” the man continued, his fingers teasing the head through the fabric.
Now, that sounded interesting. Morpheus let his mind run wild, imagining himself there, helping the man achieve his goal. He would grip his hair much stronger than the woman in the previous video did and tilt his head back to expose his throat to the camera. He would not rush it, probably, preferring to tease him until he was shivering and begging for it. And then he would jerk him off just as slowly, clicking his tongue at him when the man tried to raise his hips off the bar stool and chase a quicker, more satisfying rhythm.
While Morpheus fantasized, the man talked about using something better than a potato to film the video this time but still owning the same bar stool, and then about changing some things because he was no longer shy about showing his face. His hand – and fuck, could Dream imagine having fun with those hands – forearm muscles straining against leather cuffs, fingers in Dream’s mouth, stroking his tongue, the taste of salt – came up to the camera to tilt it a bit upward.
The man’s face came into view – a handsome face and a brilliant smile – and the first thing that he said punched the breath out of Morpheus’ lungs. “Hullo, love. Aren’t you beautiful today.”
It made him feel warm. He had not been complimented like that in probably ten years, and called love… He had probably never had any of his lovers call him that. It made him blush, which was ridiculous. He was of half a mind to close the video and give up out of spite, even though his cock had finally joined the party again. He didn’t remember the last time he had lost control of his reactions like this.
But then again, it was just a video. Just porn, despite the irony of referring to it as just porn as a porn star and sex worker.
And he could not deny that he wanted to hear it again. He would not stoop as low as to rewind the video, but he hoped that at the end – the outro, maybe, hopefully – the man would say something similar.
While Morpheus was recovering from the shock, the man had finally taken off his briefs and started stroking himself. The gentle grin on his face turned into parted lips and furrowed brows, a look of concentration. He was obviously trying to get to the top as quickly as possible, which Dream didn’t mind at all. He, likewise, took off his underwear and reached for some lube, setting a calmer pace for himself. Watching the handsome man cum would undoubtedly be enough to get him off in his current mood, but watching him cum twice? Morpheus would have nice dreams tonight.
A few minutes later, the man was biting off moans and staring at the camera with glassy eyes, his lips slick with saliva. His hips were moving in jerky motions, seeking relief on their own, and Dream once more imagined himself there, kneeling in front of the man, lips wrapped around his leaking cock, holding his hips down and not letting him take more than Dream was willing to give.
When the man came, fist wrapped around the head of his cock, cum leaking through his fingers, Morpheus leaned forward in his chair to look at his face more closely. The man was crying, a single tear trailing down his face. If this is all it took to make him cry from pleasure, what would become of him if Dream got his hands on him? He had to stop touching himself in order to resist the temptation to cum, imagining himself there, kissing the tear off the man’s face, touching his sensitive cock, and driving him to overstimulation, being called love, please, darling, I can’t—
The screen went black, and Morpheus almost flew off his chair as he rushed to move the mouse, thinking that for some reason the screensaver had turned on. He cringed when he realised that his hand was sticky and he would have to clean the mouse later, but it was too late. It was not the screensaver either. The sound in the background went on but the screen was black until a simple text appeared in the middle.
YOU CAN FIND THE LINK TO THE CUT CONTENT IN THE DESCRIPTION. THIS IS WHAT YOU VOTED FOR! LIKE IN THE GOOD OLD TIMES! :P
Credit where credit’s due, Morpheus had to admit that this was a good strategy. Just listening to the man’s moans and not being able to see his face pinched in pleasure and a bit of pain made him rush to the description to find the link to the paid content. His credit card info was filled in automatically on the other site, where the link led, since it was one where he also sometimes posted his videos, so not even a minute later, he was fast forwarding through the full thirty-eight-minute video. If he accidentally stopped at the intro and heard hullo, love again, it was just a coincidence.
After finding the moment Hob came and with no cuts to stop him from watching the man pant and smile through the afterglow, Morpheus settled down for another almost half an hour of the show. It was obvious that the man – what was his name? – wouldn’t go right back to touching himself again, but coming for the second time in thirty minutes would speak of either using drugs or having an enviably short refractory period. So, it was still hot.
“So, uh, sorry,” the man said, brushing his hair off his face and trying to chase away the blush that had spread down his neck. He leaned down for a bottle of water and took a few long sips, keeping his head tilted back and to the side to show off his throat working. That was the second time Morpheus almost lost control of his body and had to stop touching himself.
“So, as I was saying,” the man continued after disposing of the water. Some of it had escaped his lips and was trailing down his chest, droplets weaving between the thick strands of hair. “I have a short refractory period, yeah. It can be fun. It can be not fun, when the partner is not into it, but you get horny after less than ten minutes. But you wouldn’t mind, would you, dearheart?” he addressed the camera. “You know what you do to me, looking stunning like that, giving me those bedroom eyes. You know I have to have you at least one more time.”
Has anyone ever watched the full video and survived?! Morpheus wondered, flushing pink as he listened to the gorgeous voice and his beautiful words. He himself never talked to his viewers like that, gently and soothingly, because he couldn’t imagine fitting it into his persona. But if someone told him that this man’s career stood on the fact that he called his fans love and dearheart, he would believe it. He would pay for that, damn it! (He was paying for such content right now.)
Dream’s brain was short-circuiting. He was not sure if he was horny, or upset, or flattered, or slightly humiliated by his own reactions. And the man continued to talk. It wasn’t your typical porn talk, but rather a sort of soft bedroom ASMR. It wasn’t even roleplay because the man wasn’t playing any role or putting one on Dream. He was just talking in a soothing, kind voice that pulled at Dream’s heart and something much lower at the same time.
Dream's fantasy was no longer his, but he still enjoyed it. He wasn’t there to bring the other man pleasure that he could not and did not want to refuse. He was there to satisfy him and get anything he wanted in return. The man named it: “I could eat you out, darling; soothe you with my tongue before you take me again. I would enjoy that; you know I love it. Or I could just hold you and tell you how beautiful you are again. Anything you want, if you let me, if, if it pleases you.” He ended with a half-smirk, as if those words were an inside joke of his. And Morpheus liked it. If it pleases you, he repeated in his head, picturing that smirk, anything you want, if you just let me.
Eventually, the man reached down for a bottle of lube and poured some on his hand, letting it warm up before he touched himself again. He was half-hard and sensitive, stopping often to take a deep breath and chase away the unpleasantness of too much too soon.
And for once, Morpheus didn’t daydream about batting the man’s hand away and taking him in his fist, stroking him until he squirmed and sobbed. Not only could he tell that overstimulation was a limit for the handsome man, and he would never cross someone’s hard limits, but he also didn’t want to disturb the fantasy that the man had built up because it was warmer and more comfortable than anything Morpheus had ever created on his own. He supposed that his relationships were rarely warm and soft but rather scorching and full of fights. But not now, in this fantasy, all that was needed of him was to accept this man’s love one more time that night.
He was louder this time, moaning openly and bringing himself up slowly. He groaned each time he twisted his fist around the red-and-purple tip of his cock, throwing his head back and arching his back. And even when he got past the initial sensitivity, he didn’t stop moaning, gasping for breath, and slipping small words of endearment between his sounds, just for Morpheus’ pleasure.
The second time the man came, his whole body shook. For a second, it looked like he would lose balance and fall off the stool, ending the video in an unpleasant accident, but then he grabbed the wall behind him with one arm to stabilise himself. It made all the muscles in his body lock up and Morpheus would take pleasure in discovering all those strong muscles hidden underneath the dense chest hair, tan skin, and soft padding of hopefully a comfortable life. But he was too busy coming down from his own orgasm, the best one he’d had in a while, hitting him right as the man reached his peak.
For a moment, they were both breathing heavily. The man drank again and wiped his hands off on his discarded underwear before sitting on the stool and grinning at the camera. It wasn’t the same smile as before. He looked pleasantly tired now, satisfied, and it tugged at something possessive within Morpheus. He wanted to be the one who brought him there, the one who the smile was targeted at.
“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” the man chuckled. “I’m too old for this shite. I was too old for it three years ago. But there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Morpheus knew that it was meant for the audience, for the people who paid this man, voted in his polls, and enjoyed all of his content. But he ate it up anyway. Nothing I wouldn’t do for you. It had been years since he last heard or said that, but it had never sounded so true before.
“Alright, that’s all. This was hashtag Throwback Thursday and one of the most difficult videos I had ever filmed, recreated for your viewing pleasure. See you next time, love!”
It was abruptly over. Morpheus huffed, marking down a flaw in this man’s videos. He could easily keep talking for another few minutes or have an outro. Not that Dream had one, but this man should. His voice deserved to be used like that.
In the end, it was a success. He decided to save the man’s account in case he found himself craving something new and different again in the future. He also finally took the time to read his username.
Hobsie. Huh.
Hob settled into bed with a cup of lemon balm tea. It was nearly his bedtime, and he would not be getting out of bed again, but he still had one thing to do. He had promised Matthew, and even drunken promises were worth keeping, in his opinion.
Dream of the Endless produced a lot of content. Perks of being full-time, supposedly. Hob had subscribed to Dream's OnlyFans after failing to down six shots of tequila in a row in a bet, so at least he had somewhere to start.
Of course, it only confirmed what he already knew – Dream was damn attractive. Furthermore, he apparently read a lot, his home filled with bookshelves, and he also wrote, though that was not information freely given but rather something that Hob noticed because he also used to write a lot. He would keep notepads and several pens everywhere in the house and would often write down anything that crossed his mind and then go back to it later to see if it was useful. Dream’s house was full of many hardback notepads, and on some photos, they were left open, the contents visible if not readable. He was definitely writing, though not poetry like Hob.
So, he was attractive, and they might have a few topics to talk about, but there was still the leather-clad elephant in the room. Matthew had sworn up and down that a suitable compromise for the two of them existed, but, as bad as it sounded, Hob didn’t want to make any kind of compromise. BDSM made him deeply uncomfortable, the thought of losing control and being taken apart by someone whom he would have to trust to listen for his safeword, because he would not be able to protect himself in any way if such a word was ignored…
His stomach twisted. No matter how hot Dream of the Endless was, it was unrealistic to think that they could have sex that would be satisfying for them both. But a promise was a promise, and Hob had, apparently, fifteen years of content to look through to see if they could make it work.
He started by trying to filter tags. That didn’t get him far. The vanilla tag yielded zero results across many sites, even among paywalled content. Then he tried the words gentle and soft and at least discovered several videos with that word in the title, but gentle spanking or soft BDSM didn’t speak to him.
He started looking at the names of random videos, betting himself to find one, at least one, that he could watch from the beginning to the end. But he had to scroll three years into the history before he found something remotely interesting to him. Most videos were either titled with a list of kinks that appeared in them or they spoke of a scene that didn’t appeal to Hob. Moxxi Lee Gets Punished for Disobeying Me. Nope. Older Man Has to Obey His Young Master. Nope.
Collabs at least didn’t seem to be too intense, but Hob was wary to try and watch. Finally, three years in the history feed, he came across a familiar name, a man whom he had worked with less than a year ago. It was a pleasant experience – all of Hob’s videos were – so he decided to give the video a chance.
Hob almost choked on his spit when the video started right in the middle, with Dream gripping the other man’s hair, pushing him face down into the mattress, and fucking into him at a punishing pace. Not even the mattress could muffle the other man’s loud moans, while Dream kept a mask of indifference.
He would go by Cory, Hob remembered. A handsome blonde man who, upon first impression, seemed like someone who didn’t care about anything at all but who was incredibly sweet in the bedroom and so attentive that for half of the time that they spent filming, Hob could only lay there and enjoy himself. Cory was one of many fake names, because the man was very protective of his identity, and in the video with Dream, he used a different name, something more BDSM-sounding. The Corinthian sounded biblical, which… could be kinky?
It was mildly shocking to see Cory in a submissive position now. The video cut off the preview, and they were at the beginning now. Both Dream and Cory were dressed and sitting next to each other, laughing at some joke that had been cut out. Well, Cory was laughing, sunglasses shifting on his nose, and Dream was smirking and rolling his eyes, clearly trying to suppress a grin. Then they both introduced themselves and quite bluntly stated the content of the video, which almost made Hob back out again.
“I am Dream of the Endless, and I will make this man work to deserve my cock.” The way he intonated the word cock made Hob’s blood rush. Dream’s voice was deep and mesmerising, his words controlled and carefully chosen, and then there it was at the end, just cock. Dream definitely knew what he was doing there.
Hob completely spaced out for the other man’s introduction, still staring at Dream’s lips as if he could see a mark that the dirty word had left on them. And then Dream spoke again, turning to Cory, or whoever he was that day, directly. “What is your safeword?” he asked, and his voice changed, authoritative now. The voice of a professional Dom.
“Daggers,” Cory replied. “‘Cause I’m gonna stab you if you do the one thing that I told you not to,” he added, making Dream roll his eyes again, muttering something under his breath.
“Your safeword, sir?” Cory asked, grinning mischievously.
“My safeword is I’ll cut your balls off, because I will if you don’t stop this,” Dream said sarcastically. Then there was a cut, and he replied normally. “My safeword is fates.” Then he elbowed the man next to him, not in a painful way but in a way that was probably tickling, and the blonde burst out laughing and pushed him away. It was… strangely domestic for BDSM porn.
Another cut, and the two were in the bedroom. Dream was still dressed, but Cory or whatever was only wearing white boxer briefs. He was kneeling in front of Dream, hands balled into fists at his sides, lips twisted in a snarl, while Dream ran a thumb over his gritted teeth. It looked like if Dream wasn’t careful, he would have his finger bitten off any second. It looked nothing like sex how Hob knew it and yet, for some reason, his body took interest in what he was seeing.
Dream tutted and shook his head. “You are a rabid dog. Why do you think you deserve my cock?” he asked the kneeling man, suddenly fisting his hair and yanking, tilting his head forcefully backwards in a way that made Hob’s neck hurt.
Cory groaned, trailing off into a whimper when Dream twisted the hand in his hair. His neck was painfully taut, but the rest of his body relaxed at the same moment, some tension leaking out of his shoulders until his arms hung loose. “I can be good,” he whispered, slowly bringing his hands behind his back and gripping his own forearms. The position made his pecs stand out, all of his muscles tensing, and that was not half bad to look at either.
“I have heard that before. You always disobey,” Dream said, his voice laced with disappointment. Even that tone made Hob uncomfortable, and he ultimately gave up on the video.
It was pointless. He was too soft for this sharp-cut marble statue of a man. He grabbed the tablet to put it away on the opposite nightstand, so work wouldn’t tempt him and he could enjoy his sleep, but as he did so, he clumsily opened another video. Dream’s voice filled the room again.
“Hello there, little one.”
Hob shivered involuntarily, not in an unpleasant way. He looked at the screen, seeing only Dream’s face surrounded by darkness. He looked pale as a sheet in the simple light source, his black hair disappearing in the surrounding night. He looked like an angel or a dark creature of the night. A sexy creature, dammit.
“Why do you come to me tonight?” Dream asked, tilting his head and wetting his lips. Rose-pink lips that Hob could kiss for ages.
To make love to you, he thought longingly. All those things he could do to a gorgeous man like Dream, if only he was allowed.
“You wish to be my toy for the night?” Dream asked, raising an elegant brow.
Fuck, if that’s what you want, anything. Hob could be a toy. He could be there for Dream’s pleasure. He had no trouble in that, as long as it was his choice. As long as Dream didn’t hurt him or threaten to take him apart.
“Do you think you can handle it?”
No, Hob huffed quietly. I’m not good enough. I’m not strong. I’m fragile, and I will fall apart if you so much as frown at me. I would disappoint you.
He closed the video and quickly drank his tea. Lemon balm tasted a little like honey – a funny perk of nature – and he let it chase away the bitterness left behind by his dim thoughts. He knew where they were coming from – from the same place where the ruin of all his recent relationships came from. Not good enough, too anxious, too scared. It would never go away. At least in the porn that he made, he could once more be the man that he wanted to be – someone who left his partners satisfied, who made them happy, who filled them with the feeling of being loved, who was everything they needed.
Hob was fully prepared for a night full of nightmares – that was just his life – but he got something else instead, something arguably worse. In his dreams, there was Dream, gorgeous and angel-like, towering over Hob and telling him to be good, to just be good for Dream and satisfy him, and that would be enough.
Dream put his fingers in Hob’s mouth and told him that he was doing well, that he was being good. He let Hob suck on those fingers, let him show Dream how good he could make him feel. Let me, Hob whimpered. And Dream pulled the fingers out and replaced them with his cock. It was cold and smooth as marble, but in the dream it made sense.
Hob woke up fifteen minutes before the alarm, hard as rock. He groaned in annoyance, raised his middle finger to the sky, and muttered a sleep-thick fuck you aimed at Dream somewhere probably kilometres away from him. He remembered his dreams quite well and blamed them for his situation. But, seeing as he still had time before his alarm, he decided to do something about it, something that wasn’t a cold shower.
Hob didn’t masturbate as often as he wanted to. The mood was never quite right, so he usually waited until he was filming to take care of his body’s needs. Being just slightly sex-deprived helped him be even more eager and attentive for his partners.
Usually, he could conjure up vivid fantasies to help him along. He didn’t like watching porn anymore, not when he saw its flaws more clearly than ever, when so much triggering – to him – content went untagged, and when it made him feel like he was working. Fantasies or reading erotica became his main means to getting off, but fuck if he was in the mood to read something before six in the morning.
Hob took himself in hand and tried to come up with something that would drive him crazy. One of his favourite things was pleasuring his partners orally, so he tried to picture someone – literally anyone but Dream. But of course, encouraged by his recent dreams, the only face that he could focus on was Dream’s. His marble-like skin and carefully controlled expression. Hob would see him crack; he would suck him off so good that Dream would swear and bite his lip. Or he would have him on this very bed, on his belly with a pillow under his hips, and he would eat him out until his tongue fell out, and Dream would be satisfied.
Hob reminded himself that there was nothing morally wrong with jerking off to a fellow porn star. He gave up on trying to steer his mind away from Dream and instead fuelled the fantasy. If Dream wanted him to be good, he certainly could be. He had no problem with demands or directions. He would have Dream gently guiding his head up and down his beautiful cock. He would kiss every inch of his skin until Dream told asked him to stop, and then he would ask what else Dream wanted from him.
He pictured, guiltily, a deep voice telling him just you are enough, just you.
Hob’s orgasm wasn’t the most satisfying of the year, but it was more satisfying than the last few jerk-offs that he remembered. He enjoyed the aftershocks until his alarm rang and it was time to get ready for work.
“No fucking way! Jessamy owes me like ten lunches now!”
“Actually, I can’t believe it either, but Robbie has already agreed to the meeting. He sees something in you. It’ll go well, Dream.”