Here's 8,000 words of these enemies in denial
 
 

The rain had started an hour ago. It was rugged, sharp rain that fell like diamonds and stabbed like knives. The windows were locked shut, the door latch fastened, curtains half drawn. Through a gap in the fabric the rain was visible lashing into the ground through the drowned glow of the orange street lamps outside. It hadn't rained in weeks, and the parched ground was finally getting its fill of water, drinking every last drop. It was likely the roads would be flooded by tomorrow morning.

Sat in the heat of the living room, Dream stared at the grand clock beside the TV. It was 11:23 pm. He had been expecting a visit tonight, but with the weather so appalling and the atmosphere so foul, he had concluded he would spend tonight alone. Lips pressed to the rim of his mug, he sipped the steaming tea. It was mint, one of his favourites. It was calming, as he found a cup of it before bed rather productive.

With the steaming mug held between his fingertips, he closed his eyes and let the warmth bleed into his bones. He allowed the process to continue until they felt tingly, burdened by the heat and forced to pull back. Sighing, he looked at the clock once more. 11.25 pm. No more than two minutes had past, yet he felt like he'd been sat there for an age. With the last of his tea washed down his throat he stood, back clicking softly in a crescent arch. He wasn't coming tonight, not in this weather. It was almost a pity, he hadn't seen him intimately for two weeks - the phone call eight days ago didn't count.

Slipper padded feet crept across the floor, over the Italian rug that stretched atop varnished oak. Shuffling, his feet met the cool tiles of the kitchen floor. The kitchen was the heart of his house, and his favourite place to be really. He was infinitely rich, but still he was proud of the high expense the kitchen cost. It was designed specifically for him, and no other house should have the same. That gave him a certain sense of pride. He didn't expect to have to share designs with human mortals.

The mug tapped against the marble countertop, the tap running with hot soapy water to clean the object of the faint brown stains the tea leaves had left behind. The soap studs rushed up to the rim where they clawed over the edge before being torn back down by gravity. Each flick of his wrist sent the soapy water swirling, his eyes dull for a moment as he watched. White soap dropped across his knuckles, marching in a steady stream down to his wrist bones.

He was considering whether to let it run further down his arm when the doorbell rang.

Pausing, his head tipped towards the hallway where the front door stood solemnly. It was storming outside, the winds could potentially pick up a small chihuahua, and the rain was thick enough to drown. Why was someone at the door?

Stepping slowly he stared down the dark hallway, his shadow throwing up an intimidating figure across the frosted glass. He stood for maybe ten seconds, considering whether he'd imagined it. But of course he couldn't have, his mind wasn't pathetic enough to conjure a visitor out of the air. He had a social life, he didn't need contact with others. Even Ink and Blue could become overly tiresome.

Knocking rapped at the wooden doorway, and his doubts were scattered. Someone was indeed at the door. Staring through the frosted glass, he could make out his silhouette.

Killer.

Walking slowly to the door, he mulled the possibilities over in his head. On a day as miserable as this the other surely wouldn't have felt the need to come over. They could postpone, delay the meeting and arrange a knew one while roughened against a tree, blood soaking their clothes with knives and arrows jutting between their ribs. Sure, they might have had to delay the meet by a week, but that was hardly melancholic.

His hand reached for the doorknob, curling around it tightly and letting the lock click open before the door swung in.

Stood there, soaked to the bone and shivering, was Killer.

"What are you doing here?"

He sounded more alarmed than angry, golden pupils scanning over the other's meek form. Killer looked appalling. His hood was plastered to the top of his skull soaked through by the god-sent storm that beat upon the porch roof. What was once blue was now deep navy, and his white shirt clung to his scared and misshapen ribs like a silicone mould. His black tears looked greasy and smudged, seeping into the top of his shirt and staining it grey.

Despite his unattractive appearance, the other had the nerve to smirk at him, silver pupils shining. "We made arrangements for 11 pm, didn't we?"

Brow twitching, Dream regarded the man. Soaking wet, exhausted and filthy, he looked like he'd crawled out of a sewage drain. Yet somehow, his eyes still managed to make his bones strain, as if his knees considered buckling.

He tried his best to hide his surprise. He had assumed Killer wouldn't have come because of the weather. While the whore was seemingly eager for sex whenever they arranged, he had doubted he'd trek through the awful conditions just for an hour of intimacy. Unless he was more touch starved than he'd first considered.

You see, it wasn't possible to simply teleport into his home unless he himself did it. For anyone else wishing to visit, they'd be allowed to teleport around a mile away from his home before they'd be forced to walk. It was a necessary spell to have cast, or else Nightmare may very easily kill him in his sleep by appearing in his room at 4am. While an assassination was still possible, it deterred attempts. It was that reason why he had assumed Killer wouldn't come. He would have ran through the pouring rain for a mile. Killer may be fast, but that would have still took him nearly fifteen minutes. Yet here he was, soaked to the bone and acting like he'd just booked reservations at a restaurant for dinner for two.

Instead of voicing all that he let it rest heavily in his mind, lip curling in a sneer as he stepped back. "You're late."

Grinning, Killer stepped into his home. His sodden shoes left heavy wet footprints, messy on his clean floors. He resisted the urge to snarl at him, and instead simply scowled.

"Take your filthy shoes off."

Glancing to him from beneath his sodden hood Killer laughed, wiping his smeared cheeks with his soaked sleeve. It didn't do much. In fact, it may have even made him dirtier. But he obliged and kicked them off in a pile to the corner of the room. Dream tried not to notice the mud that splashed across the wallpaper in the process.

"I-I'm fucking frozen- ssso let's make this quick-" Killer's throat was hoarse and cracked, and as he spoke his body rolled with thick shivers.

Scoffing, Dream gripped his wrist. "You wish, you're filthy." He cringed from the mere feeling of water oozing from the other's sleeve, but tugged him further into the hallway so he could slam the door shut.

Looking down at his own sodden form, Killer coughed. "So.. what now?"

Crossing his arms over his chest he glared at the other. "Strip. Keep your filthy clothes off of my floor and I'll put them in the washing machine when you're done."

Moving slowly Killer started to slide his heavy hoodie off of his shoulders, painfully aware that he was accumulating a rather large puddle on Dream's expensive looking floorboards. So was he stripping to be fucked against the hallway wall or to stand wet and naked while he mocked him. Once fully stripped he held out the bundle of clothes with a wonky grin, the back of his skull itching.

Dream looked nothing short of disgusted as he reached out to take the clothes, his wrists dribbling with water that dripped on a steady flow onto his floor. He watched Killer for a sharp moment before turning to leave him naked and alone in his hallway while he entered the kitchen and walked through to the utility room and pantry where he dumped the heavy tangle into the washing machine. Setting up the wash he yawned, mind drifting to Killer. The whore had really came all this way in the rain for sex? He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Flattered? Discouraged? Impressed?

He'd come all this way, and yet Dream thought that sex right now while the other was damp and cold sounded extremely unpleasant. He mulled over his options for a moment before tugging the door to the dryer open. Some of his previously washed clothes lay inside, heated and soft. They weren't ironed, ridden with crease marks, but he doubted Killer would care. Fishing inside, he dragged a faded yellow hoodie out of the wash. He never wore it much, but occasionally he would when he was gardening and it was cold. He stood up with the clothing in his hand, smoothing it down to try remove the worst of the gnarly creases.

Killer was still in the exact spot he'd left him when he returned, bare boned and shivering as he stood in a puddle of water. He looked pathetic, and Dream didn't doubt it would take less than 30 seconds to kill him. But that wasn't why either of them were here. He pushed the hoodie into his arms, muttering. "Put this on."

Killer stared at him as if he had offered him gold. "Are you uh, sure?" He had assumed any clothing he'd put on would be stripped off in a matter of minutes anyway. But Dream's expression was firm, and his tone flat.

"Do as I say, Killer."

The obedience that had been beaten into him by his peers and Nightmare reacted for him, and his hands grasped the hoodie from the other in a sharp tug. He scoffed to try mask whatever expression he made, eyes flicking over the faded yellow hoodie. It was yellow, yes, not the ugly smeared colour that his brain chose to register as green. For a moment he wondered whether the other had picked yellow on purpose.

"Yellow.." He hadn't registered he'd spoken out loud until Dream spoke.

"An incredible observation."

Embarrassed, he hastily shoved the hoodie over his head and wrapped himself up in it. He couldn't recall whether Dream knew of his colourblindness, but he'd be smart not to mention it. The other's yellow toned clothing was one of the only reason he could spot him behind trees in battle against the ugly brown of tree trunks. That and the fact that his burning blue arrows stood out like a beacon.

The hoodie was soft and worn, sleeve cuffs smudged darker by what looked like stains of soil. He lifted the sleeve to his nose and sniffed, but only sought fresh lime and sea breeze. A pity really, the last thing he'd stollen from the man had stopped smelling of him.

By the time he'd smoothed it down the other had already left, his shadow visible in the kitchen. He stepped after him cautiously, his direction and motive all in a muddle. He didn't know whether he was about to be eaten out, served food or be told to go home.

Dream's silhouette looked sinfully attractive in the kitchen lighting. With the tight black shirt dipping into his trousers, the curve of the fabric allowing a glimpse of pelvic bone. He could see the ridges of his spine, the curve of his back and the path of his ribs. His fingers twitched, imagining squeezing them and hearing him cry.

"You're staring, Killer."

He was torn from the sinful depths of his mind before his fantasy could lead his conscious to the bedroom. His mouth twitched in a grin, eyes dragging up and down his form purposely. "Am I?"

Dream couldn't help but let his lip curl upwards, allowing a phantom of a smile. "Freak." Yet it wasn't said with as much malice as the guardian may have uttered in their first nights of meeting under these circumstances. "You look incredibly unappealing, and I don't fancy touching your cold bones at the moment."

Swallowing thickly, his head tipped to the side to follow Dream's slender fingers as they turned the kettle on. "Ssooo.. what now?" He felt awkward suddenly, eyes not meeting the other's. Unappealing? What a fancy way to say he looked an ugly mess.

Letting the kettle boil, Dream turned to lean against the counter. "We'll drink. You can clean up, and then I'll think about it."

The clatter of teacups and spoons filled the silence, accompanied by the heavy drumming of the rain. It sounded logical, yet also uncharacteristic. Surely his cold bones wouldn't matter the moment he formed his body? And if his face was a mess then the other could simply not look at it. The notion was almost amusing - drink tea with his enemy? It wasn't what he'd considered when he'd stumbled through the rain to get here. "Y'know, you could just say you wanted my company."

The guardian only scoffed, expression less than entertained. "Pick your tea."

The cupboard door was open, and Killer found his damp feet compelled towards it to look inside. There were too many different types. Earl grey, loose leaf, mint, matcha, chamomile, bagged. He felt lost. Whenever he had any at home he would just toss a bag of tea leaves into a cup and pour boiling water on top. "Um.."

"Teabag then." His voice muttered from behind, and Killer felt his spine prickle as the other leant over him to take the tea bags. His chest was pressed to his back for only two seconds, but it left his knees week. He mentally hissed to himself to pull it together, throat dry.

"I'll have it black."

"Black?" His face scrunched as if he'd said something wrong, the kettle boiled. "Does Nightmare not allow you to have milk or sugar?"

"Nno, I just uh, I like it like that."

Whether the guardian was disgusted or simply unimpressed, he couldn't tell. But he left the tea black for him before making himself a tea with milk and a spoonful of sugar. A sweet tooth maybe? Perhaps he'd keep that in mind.

His fingers curled around the steaming mug, relishing the warmth. It was only when Dream moved that he did too, shuffling behind him into the living room in an embarrassed stoop. He wasn't sure what to do - he wasn't good at small talk. Especially with his supposed sworn enemy. Usually by now he'd be face first into the sofa or mattress sobbing for release. Yet instead he sank into the sofa to relax, trying hard to not imagine how many times he'd been ruined against the spot next to him. The sofa dipped with an extra weight as Dream sat, his legs curled and hands similarly clasping his mug. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, listening to the drum of rain against the windowsill and the steady tick of the old clock.

He was conscious of a black tear brimming in his eye socket - a natural occurrence - and he raised his sleeve on instinct to wipe it away.

"Hey- not with my sweatshirt-" A strong grip tugged at his wrist and he blinked dumbly, turning to him in surprise.

"Oh- I-"

"God, stay here." The other released him with a sigh, and suddenly he was alone in the living room. Sat there blankly, he felt silly all of a sudden. He'd come to the guardians house in the middle of a storm as if he were a desperate bitch in heat. He should have just stayed at home and waited until next week to save himself the embarrassment.

When Dresm returned he had a damp cloth in his hands. He sat next to him, hand gripping his jaw firmly to tip it. "Look at me, idiot."

Killer found himself compelled to obey, and god forsake his pink cheeks betraying his shame. "Are they really that smeared?"

"Yes."

The first press to his cheek startled him because the cloth was warm. He watched the other, noting the concentration written across his face. It was attractive. "Guess the rain did that.."

"Mhm." The talk was limited. Dream felt little need to talk over silly trivia like they were friends, because they weren't. He was cleaning his cheeks because they made a mess. He recalled the first time they'd had sex, those tears had stained his crisp white pillowcase an ugly grey. No matter how many times he washed them, there was still faint smears of grey across the fabric. They stayed permanently in the spare room, saved from the bin only because Killer occasionally whined to sleep in the spare room. There was no need to ruin another new pillowcase. Swiping at the messy tears he realised that he'd have to throw the cloth away after this. But that was okay, he didn't mind.

It was only when he reached the second cheek that he realised Killer's body had lost the previous tension it had been holding. He looked calmer, more relaxed as he cleaned him. In fact, he could have sworn the other was leaning into his touch. It was subtle, but his hand was carrying more weight where he gripped his jaw than before. He tipped his head, thinking. It was easy to assume Nightmare didn't give affection to his teammates. And he doubted Killer shared many physical interactions with Horror and Dust - why would he be here if he did?

His thumb rubbed slow circles into the others cheek, smearing one solitary tear in a small circumference. "You're looking too relaxed."

Somewhat drowsy, Killer bat at his hand. "Sstop, they're a pain to clean when rubbed in." Yet he made no real attempt to stop him, and he could have sworn the other sank into his hold more.

Pulling his thumb back, Dream inspected the liquid coating it. "Really?"

"Mh, Horror once smeared them like face paint when I was asleep. Gave me stupid glasses. Was stained like that for over three days."

Dream wasn't sure why, but he laughed. It shouldn't have been that funny, but the image of Killer with black glasses forced its way into his mind and he couldn't help but snort.

Looking up in surprise, Killer took in the other's grin, the way he laughed. It made him grin too. "Lllook- I have a photo-" He stumbled with his phone, rushing to log in and find his photos. Usually he wouldn't ever consider showing his enemy a shameful photo of himself. But there was something about that laugh..

The moment he saw the photo his laughter started all over again. The assassin looked so stupid. There were two photos. One of Killer fast asleep, the markings clear. It was in no way artistic, but the markings were recognisable as glasses, a moustache and a goatee beard. The second photo was blurry, showing the raging skeleton launching himself out of the bathroom after he'd found out.

It shouldn't have been funny, but it was. He registered that Killer was laughing too, a loud cackle that suited a villain. His cheeks were flushed, cheeks still only half cleaned. But laughing like that, he looked handsome. It was a sudden realisation. One that his mind seemed to have no trouble comprehending.

Through blurry eyes Killer watched him, ears ringing with the delightful sound of the other's laugh. He'd never heard it before, only graced to scoffs or low chuckles. But this was different. It was a laugh, a proper, careless laugh. He relished the sound, breathless as the room echoed with his own laughter to join. Stirring in his chest, his soul felt warm. But he'd blame that on the tea.

When the laughter finally died down they still both had stupid grins, and Dream felt lightheaded. He hadn't expected this, to sit in the living room and laugh, his lips warmed by tea instead of the other's soft flesh. To laugh with him instead of argue or talk dirty into the pillow. It was strange, and he wasn't sure what to think about it. Of course both of their primary objectives was still sex. Killer clearly wanted it, and he was still inclined to satisfy the other. But Killer looked tired, his head now sank into the back of the sofa as he sipped his tea. He still looked messy, and in no means appeared to have the stamina for sex tonight.

So would he turn him away? Would he send him back out into the rain? No, he couldn't. Because that would mean he would have ended up inviting Killer around for nothing for other than the pleasure of his company - not that it was usually very pleasurable. That wasn't why they met up. They didn't meet for a drink and a laugh, they met to release all their frustrations through the form of sex. But Killer seemed in no condition to provide that. Sure they could still do it. But the assassin was much more fun when snarky and lively rather than half asleep.

It was when the other seemed to be truly nodding off that he made his decision. "Get up. You can rest your filthy cheeks on an old pillowcase, not my new couch covers."

Bewildered, Killer was faintly aware that the guardian was gripping him under the armpits and jerking himself to his feet. He was thankful the mug of tea was empty, or he would have spilt it all over himself. "Mh?" His feet felt clumsy and slow as he walked around the sofa, the mug taken from him and placed on a coffee table to be washed later.

"We're going upstairs."

Stood at the bottom of the stairway, he contemplated how easy it would be to drag the other up when he was only semi-conscious. But thankfully the man seemed to have acquired some sense, and he slowly started a fumbled ascent of the stairs. With each step he seemed to gain more confidence in his own feet, but it was still clear they'd be partaking in no intimacy tonight.

Once at the top, Dream let go of the other, eyes darting quickly to the bathroom. "Right- stay here. I'm just going to get a towel so I can clean up your cheeks, okay?" He simply nodded, swaying on his feet.

Trusting that the skeleton could manage to stand up on his old for 30 seconds he stepped into the bathroom. The airing cupboard stored the boiler, meaning it was always warm. He was certain the towels in there would be nice and heated. He didn't really think Killer would care whether it was hot or not, but he decided it would simply be nicer. It didn't take him any extra effort anyway.

"Dream, I'm cold.." Killer's voice echoed through the hallway, sounding tired and distant.

Dream ignored it, shaking his head. "I'll be there in a moment, Kills." The nickname slipped. He reached out, picking up one of the smaller hand towels. He got no response from the other, but he wasn't worried about it. Letting the airing cupboard click shut, he folded the towel in his hands, feeling the warmth settle nicely in his palm.

"Alright, I'll clean up the rest of your face and th-" He froze, cut off. Killer was gone. "Killer?" His feet marched quickly towards the spare bedroom, expecting to see him there. But the bed was empty, sheets still smoothed out and clean, messy pillowcase plump and ready to be slept on. He wasn't there.

"Killer?" He turned to look around for the other, yet he wasn't there. Not sat at the desk, not in the bed, not even on the floor. That meant..

"Killer goddamnit-" He walked fast, fingers clasping firmly around the doorframe to twist his body round sharply into his bedroom. There, curled up in the centre of his bed, under his blanket, pressed into his pillow. His clean, white pillow. "Killer-!"

"Mh.. cold." Came the sleepy whisper from his bedsheets, the other successfully burying himself deeper into the blanket.

"No no no get out- this is my bed." He was pissed, hand grasping the other's shoulder and ready to yank him out. But the assassin twisted, batting his wrist away sharply.

"Shhut it- I'm tired." His voice was slurred and messy. "Pplease- just let me sssleep.." His hand fell flat onto the sheets, limp.

"Killer, get out."

But the man didn't move. Dream really didn't feel like dragging him to the spare room. But he wasn't going to be kicked out of his own bed. No.

"You're messing up my pillowcase-"

"Tough. You're rich, just get a new one.." his voice was a mumble, fading into a whisper. It was no use. The man wasn't going to budge. Even from here it was clear his silk pillowcase was smeared with grey. It was too late to save it.

Muttering all sorts of curses under his breath, Dream stalked around the bed to his side, and promptly threw back the blanket. Killer grumbled softly, but still made no attempt to move. He was perfectly content to be where he was. And why wouldn't he? This bed was luxury compared to the sagging mattress he probably slept on.

Upon feeling the mattress dip, Killer smirked. He rolled over, batting his eyes innocently to look at the guardian's irked expression. "Awe, what's that expression for, I thought you loved having me in your bed~"

"Don't speak." He was half tempted to shove his fingers into his mouth, but then he decided the whore would probably like that. So he didn't.

For almost a minute they laid there in uncomfortable silence before Killer reached out, fingers brushing up his arm. Perhaps he'd intended to make a flirty comment, or start some sort of advance. But his intentions quickly changed when he felt the subtle heat that ebbed from his body.

"Woah, you're- you're warm-" He pressed his palm to the other's shoulder, surprised. "Like- really warm."

"It's part of my aura, Killer." It was a side effect he hadn't been able to rid himself of. But he didn't really mind. It wasn't something that concerned him. However he'd hated the main effect of his aura - that everyone was so nice to him. They weren't nice because they were his friends, or because they wanted to hang out. They were nice because they wanted to feel the warmth and positivity that radiated from his body envelop their own. He was used for it, and he always berated himself for not realising sooner. The faster he learnt to suppress it, the better. It meant that people could actually show personality around him. They could laugh without him wondering whether it was fake, smile without it being forced. While it hindered his abilities slightly, he didn't miss it one bit.

"Well I'm still cold-"

The weight of the other's words dawned too slowly, and he had no time to prepare a counterattack before the bastard had scooted right next to him on the bed, positioned right in the middle and pressing their bodies together.

"Get off."

"You're warm.." His voice was a soft murmur, eyes fluttering shut as he pushed his skull into the other's shoulder. That was nice.

"Killer-"

The assassin ignored him, lazily pressing his knee to the other's leg and mumbled once more about how heated and comfy he was. After that, silence lingered.

"Killer?"

He received no response, just gentle breathing. The man had finally fallen asleep. Stiff, he slowly peeled the other off of him, carefully pushing him a healthy three centimetres away from him so he could at least breathe. Any further and the other might wake up, but he hoped their current distance would be adequate. Oh this man would be the death of him.

Grumbling softly he settled down beneath the sheets, trying very hard to imagine that there was no one else in the bed with him. It was difficult. But eventually, after what felt like hours of feverish drifting, he too fell asleep.

—————

When Killer woke, he felt warm. The sheets above him were crisp and comfy, his pillow plump and soft. He felt as if he were lying on a cloud, heated by the gentle rays of the sun. Amongst the bliss, he felt disoriented. Where was he? And why did he feel so at peace? He knew for certain this couldn't be his bedroom, because even after a full day of training and fighting - which left him exhausted - he'd never wake up feeling this rested.

Forcing his eyes open, his pupils focused on a white ceiling. That couldn't be right - his ceiling was a miserable grey (he liked it that way). He lay there for a moment more, muddled mind trying to sort itself out. And then something shifted beside him. He froze.

Oh god.

Head turning slowly, his pupils flicked to look at the man laid beside him. In that moment he forgot how to breathe. He was in Dream's house still. In his bed. The man was still asleep, no more than a few inches away from him. Even when sleeping he looked mildly annoyed, mouth pressed into a thin frown. Yet he looked calm, less stressed.

Rolling onto his back, he gripped his skull with one free hand, thinking. He didn't feel stiff or sore, and he had no recollection of the two of them getting intimate last night. The sudden clarity that they hadn't done anything last night dawned on him like a curse. He'd come over for sex, yet they'd spent the night chatting, laughing and drinking tea. No, that wasn't supposed to happen. His chest felt tight, constricted even. That would mean that he had visited Dream for nothing other than the pleasure of his company. That wasn't how their arrangement worked. Talk was supposed to be at a minimum, and social interactions even less. This pact was made so they could let out their frustrations - that's all.

All of a sudden he felt rather nervous. His mind was messy, thinking all sorts of things it shouldn't. He shouldn't have liked laughing with the other. He shouldn't have accepted the faded yellow sweatshirt, and he certainly shouldn't have stayed the night.

Dream was asleep. Maybe he could slip out of bed and run away without him waking. But that would still mean the visit would have been purely social. And this week's frustrations would still be unresolved. He felt odd, itchy. Yes, he could run away and hope the heat in his pelvis would dissipate or be dealt with by his own hands. But considering how useless pleasuring himself had been recently, he doubted it was an option. And he couldn't bare the thought of embarrassing himself with a phone call again like last time. While it had been great at the time, it had stripped away some of his pride, and it had delayed their usual weekly meet by another five days. Perhaps Dream had been disgusted by him - after all he had called him unappealing last night. But then again, he often received far more insults than compliments when he came over.

So his only option was to stay and hope that the other wouldn't kick him out the moment he woke. He briefly wondered whether Dream would be the kind of person to have morning sex - they'd only ever had it in the evening after all. But they would hardly spend the whole day in each other's company just to wait for evening. He had places to be, and he was sure Dream did too.

In that moment, his decision was made.

He rolled over onto his side, facing Dream, and shuffled closer. His cheeks felt hot with embarrassment already, fingers numb as they brushed up the other's hip. "Dream.."

The guardian slept, unmoving.

Scraping his teeth against his bottom lip, his fingers dipped below the waistline of the other's shorts and tapped at his pelvis softly. "Are you awake?"

Once again, he was met with silence.

"I really uh, need you to wake up." He muttered, fingers slowly pushing the shorts low enough to see the curve of his pelvic bone. Swallowing, he pushed the shorts lower slowly. His eyes flickered up quickly to make sure the other was still asleep, thoroughly ashamed. Was he really about to do this? His knuckles brushed bone, shorts slipping.

"What are you doing?"

He froze, rigid. He slowly looked up to see golden pupils burning into him, mouth pressed into a thin frown. Shit.

"Oh- oh god um- listen I tried to wake you but- but ah- I um, I-" He was floundering, gaze flicking from side to side. "Forget it-" His hands snapped away from the other, but Dream was fast. Strong fingers curled tightly around his wrists, pinning them together before they were forced above his skull. Killer swallowed.

"You were touching me while I slept?" Disgust dripped from his tongue like venom. It made Killer flinch, his cheeks flaming with shame.

"Nno I-"

"Don't deny it, whore." He stared down at him with contempt, as if the mere thought of the other doing that to him was revolting.

A lump formed in his throat, eyes prickling. "Listen I- it's just llast night we didn't-" He was stuttering. How pathetic. Get a hold of yourself.

Sneering, Dream tipped his head to the side. "You mean to tell me that because I didn't fuck you last night, you think you can make me now?" His tone was mocking.

Rasping, he managed a grin, though it faltered under his unwavering expression. "I can certainly try."

"So you would prey on a sleeping man?" His free hand traced across the other's chest, following the lines of his ribcage slowly. He enjoyed the way Killer's breath hitched and his eyes fluttered. It made him feel powerful.

"You're awake now." The assassin winked up at him before surging forwards, his movement fast enough for the other to lose his grip. Their lips crashed together, messy and rushed. The kiss only lasted a few seconds before Dream shoved him roughly, fingers tight around the other's throat.

"Disgusting fucking whore-" He wiped at his lips, spitting. Kissing Killer was the last thing he planned to do - they'd never done it during sex, and he didn't plan to implement it. Beneath him the man choked, eyes rolling back in his skull and feet rasping across the sheets. This is what he had wanted. "Is sex the only thing that's ever on your mind?"

"O-only when I'm around you." His voice came out a dry rasp, fingers weakly clasping at the hand that squeezed his throat so cruelly. For a moment he worried his plan hadn't worked. That Dream was still equally as disgusted and would throw him out of the house within a moments notice.

"Tch, cheap."

A strong hand gripped at his waist, twisting his small body cleanly until he was flipped over, knees dug into the sheets. He tried to look up, but the hand quickly gripped the back of his skull and shoved it into the pillow, wrists still pinned above him. With his pelvis flush to Dream's hips, Killer felt utterly vulnerable.

"I don't want to have to look at you, freak."

The assassin couldn't help but moan into the pillow, his vision blurred by his own dark tears as they stained the fabric grey. He shouldn't have been turned on by such degradation, but the words made his gut flip. It was truly shameful, but if it got the reaction he needed, he would do it a thousand times over. He could hear the other shuffling behind him, warm fingertips pressed to his hips.

Scornful, Dream studying the man beneath him. He studied the way his fingers dug into the sheets, the way his hips rocked back into him and his knees shifted on the mattress to assume the proper position. All he'd done was manhandle him and the other was already craving it. Nimble fingers pulled his shorts down, observing how red magic was already building up around the pelvic joints and dips. He reached out, dragging his finger through the slick. Perhaps he enjoyed how desperate Killer was.

Leaning down, he let his breath brush the other's bones, relishing the way the man trembled. "You can't rush me today, Killer."

Shifting, Killer felt his skull ring. The heat was delicious, but nothing could compare to the sensation of a hot tongue lapping up the curve of his bone. A whimper spilt from his lips, muffled by the pillow as he bit into it. Begging would get him nowhere tonight.

Pleased by his lack of response, Dream sucked at his pubic arch, tongue curling around it while his lips worked to pleasure the squirming man beneath him. His hand gripped the other's spine, squeezing tightly. "Don't move."

Killer keened into his touch, back arching into the mattress as the other forced him to stay still. "Dreahm-" Saliva built slowly in his mouth, and thick against his tongue. Each fingertip sent prickling tingles shooting up his spine, his joints aching.

The guardian continued the action for a minute or so, absorbing every whimper, cry and moan that escaped from the man beneath him. When he finally pulled back, Killer's pelvis was dripping. A soft coat of saliva caught in the dim lighting, and the bones were dripping with thick red magic. He was sure if he made him wait anymore, he might explode. "Summon that pretty body for me, Killer."

The command was all the assassin needed. He pushed his hips back against him, cherry red ecto forming for the other to mark up. He moaned when the other's fingers sank into the flesh, upper half sinking into the mattress. This is what he'd craved. "Yyou think I'm pretty.."

Despite the words being a murmur, Dream heard it. He rolled his eyes, thumbs sinking into his soft hips. The bruises he left last time had faded, only the deepest showing faint rings of purple. He'd have to fix that. "When you're bent over like this, yes."

The man whined, his breath hitching as he felt the other's lips press to his thigh, warm. He wanted to make a flirty comment, to joke that the other was growing affectionate. But the words quickly died in his throat as teeth scraped the same spot. His fingers curled into the pillow, tugging at the fabric as the other worked to mark him. "Hha.. don't sstop.."

Dream ignored him, mouth working to bruise the cherry thighs. The way the other trembled was pathetic, legs spread as wide as they could while still supporting his weight. His lips pressed to another spot, letting the other mark darken. The action was repeated over and over until Killer was trembling, begging uselessly into the pillow. His pleas were weak, yet he'd be lying if he didn't say they turned him on. "Easy now, you'll get what you need soon enough.."

His voice was smooth, silky. Killer had no choice but to listen and grow hopeful, his soul thrumming against his chest. Behind him, Dream pressed a finger to the other's clit, rubbing at a slow and steady pace. Killer keened, pressing needly into his touch and letting one hand grip the headboard now. "Please.."

Humming thoughtfully, Dream dipped his head, his tongue sliding through the other's folds. If not for his grip on his hip, Killer might have crumbled beneath him. He moaned, panting as if he couldn't force enough oxygen through his body. He enjoyed the reaction, so he continued, finger toying with the sensitive nerve as he at him out from behind. It was odd not to see the other looking down at him. With his face crushed into the pillow, he was unable to see his expression - to see how he pulled him apart piece by piece. While he missed the show, taking Killer like this would be a new experience, and he was certain the assassin was making no complaints.

Twisting, his index finger slid inside of him and curled, stroking at his insides and beckoning the orgasm he knew the other was probably craving. His tongue worked to open him up, finger splitting him open.

"MnhA- dddont stop- ppplleasepleaseee-" His hips bucked, a delicious cry escaping him as he felt a second finger push him apart. Teeth sinking into the pillow, he felt silvery tears leak from his sockets and drip onto the once pristine silk. He didn't care. He couldn't care if the pillowcase was worth £100, all he could focus on was the soft flame in his gut hat slowly built. With every twist, curl and scissor of the other's fingers he felt his insides flip, chest growing tight as he cried. Maybe he should be embarrassed by how fast he felt himself drawing close, but the foreplay had been so thorough he felt he could have come the moment the first finger slid inside of him.

With his eyes closed, Dream had to rely on the sound of the other's quick breaths and pitching whines to know he was coming close. For a moment he considered edging the other, making him cry and beg. But they both had places to be. He was sure Killer should have reported to Nightmare an hour ago, and soon he was due to have lunch with Ink. Pushing the fingers in deeper he sucked at his swollen clit, tongue prodding at it. Killer all but sobbed, his back arched in a perfect crescent as the orgasm hit him. He shook, heat pulsing around his fingers in sync with his breathless gasps.

"How sweet.." The fingers slid out with wet protest, coated in translucent slick, he studied the fingers for a moment before chuckling, male body summoned. "You're doing so well, Killer."

The praise made his head feel fuzzy, as if his skull was full of water like a fishbowl. The sound of a zipper registered in the back of his mind, and before he could slur a response something hard had pressed to his aching heat again. He shifted, an arm sliding under the pillow to grip at the edge of the mattress. Really, he wanted to flip the pillow so that he didn't have to mess his chin with more drool - the silk case was already ruined. But he didn't have time to word his request as he felt the other's cock sink into him.

The cry Killer made was nothing short of animalistic, a strangled sob spilt into the pillow as his fingers scraped into the wood of the headboard. Oh he'd love it if he left a mark. "Ggod- ohgod-"

Dream relished the other's reaction, fancying the idea that the other could think of him as a god of sorts. It showed that the other knew his place. With the other's walls clamped so firmly around him, he had to take a moment to adjust to the feeling, using the time to readjust the bruising grip he had on his hips. He knew the other liked it when his hands left marks, so why should he deny him that pleasure? "So desperate for me.."

He watched as Killer's body rocked with each thrust, listened to the sound of his soft cries as he stained the pillowcase with silver tears. His body trembled under his grip, forced to uphold the current position. He felt hot around him, sucking him in with each smack of their hips. The sex wasn't explicitly rough, both of them still foggy with sleep. Yet it didn't matter, Killer seemed to claw at the sheets all the same, and with the hiccuped sobs he gave you'd be forgiven for thinking he was being rawed deep into the mattress. It was almost nice to have the change, to take the time to appreciate the way his back curved, the way his faux skin glistened with sweat, the way he mumbled unconscious pleas and praise.

"If only you could see yourself.." He murmured, letting a hand push up his spine to grip the back of his neck. "So good for me." It seemed Killer responded to praise just as well as he did to degradation, as a lively moan tore from his throat once more. Neither of them would last much longer.

When Killer came, it wasn't a messy wail like usual, a shaky cry fleeing from his lips one last time as he trembled. He was short of breath, his joints feeling like they had been secured together by nothing but pva glue. With a shuddering groan Dream felt himself spill inside of the other, their hips flush for a long moment. "Hm.." Usually he had much more stamina, but maybe the fact that it was a somewhat sudden morning session had negated that.

The two remained united for a moment more before Dream pulled out, letting Killer's body fall to the side. He cringed for a moment, observing the mess on both their bodies. "We need a shower."

Killer groaned, using the back of his hand to wipe at his smeared cheeks. He looked truly filthy. Yet unlike last night, there was something attractive about the mess. Maybe it was because he was the one who'd made him this way. It made him feel rather prideful.

"Nnneed to get back to the boss.." Killer murmured, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He often seemed tired after sex.

"You need to shower, he'll certainly know what you've been up to if you come back with your tears smeared all over your face and body exhausted." He leant down, gripping the other's shoulders and hoisting him up into a sitting position. "Come on now."

Killer groaned, deadweight as the guardian attempted to make him stand. His body didn't seem to want to move, sluggish.

"A cold shower is just what you need, Killer. It'll wake you up."  As he spoke the smaller seemed to learn some sense, eyes cracking open to look at him. He straightened up, spine clicking as he found his footing.

"Suppose it could help.."

"Good, come on now." He guided him towards the bathroom, dismissing the way he wobbled and and grumbled under his breath. Maybe he thought he was speaking soft enough for the last other not to hear, but he could. Yet he ignored him, instead encouraging him towards the open door. "You're making me do all the work."

"All the work?" He sounded drowsy still, but looked over at the guardian once they were inside. The bathroom was grand, with marble flooring and white tiles stretching up the walls. The bathtub stood at the back wall, freestanding. It was large, royal looking. The shower was in the corner, equally as expensive. Through the corner of his eye he could see himself in the mirror. His face really did look a mess.

Dream smirked, fingers cupping at the smaller's jaw and tipping it upwards. "Yeah, you usually please me first, whore."

Killer had learnt to take the nickname as a compliment (of sorts). He scoffed, leaning to let his tongue poke at his wrist. "You should have asked."

"I shouldn't have to ask, Killer." He slowly undressed, back turned to the other as he watched shadows move across the white walls. He heard the shower head turn, water spraying. He was pleased to know it would stay cold today - they had to wake up after all. He couldn't help but grin. Killer was so easy to coerce.

When he turned back around, Killer was already waiting on his knees.

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I haven't updated this series in so long

Can't lie this smut was hard to write idk why my brain just wasn't in it so if it's different then uh 🧍

ANYWAy they're progressing??? Sprinkles of affection, a pinch of care, a dash of endearment.

They're so silly Ah I love them deary me soft whimpering bottom killer will forever make me skzjchcieoskyz. I wanted to show he's not ALways feral 🧎‍♂️

Anyway, I don't know what I'll update next. Maybe soulmates. Leave suggestions.

Life update: I've got a job😎😎😎 it's great and I get paid soon 😩😩😩 god I have no money left

-Jess-