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abyssalcryptid · 5 months

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Haunt Me In My Sleep

This is inspired by wonderful art from the most lovely @abyssalcryptid which I shall link here as soon as it's available.

Summary: Ever since Hob knew who Dream really was, his visits to the Dreaming were quite different, and ever since they acted on their mutual desires, the Dreaming became a great place to experiment with each other. What Dream hasn't experienced so far, is to enjoy his lover in both the Dreaming and the Waking World at the same time, but there's a first time for everything after all.

Note: This fic happens both in the Dreaming and the Waking World at the same time. The Dreaming parts are in italics. I hope that helps with keeping track while reading. Also, it's me, so it's smut. Enjoy!

Dream is at the shore, working on a nightmare when a warm feeling radiates inside him. That can only mean one thing. Hob has entered his realm.

By now, it's familiar, but ever since Dream explained to Hob who he truly is, Hob's visits are quite different, and Dream has a hard time staying away from him to let him have an experience that doesn't involve the King of Dreams himself. Hob deserves to have his brain come up with new and exciting stories.

Usually, Dream would have continued with his work, but it's the middle of the day in the Waking World, and Hob has been working quite hard lately. Dream worries that Hob might have just passed out at his desk.

Grabbing a handful of sand, Dream creates a small moth he sends out to Lucienne to let her know of his travels and makes his way to Hob's flat. He appears by the door, leaving his boots there, and wanders along the corridor in socks, searching for Hob's presence. He's not at his desk and a quick glance shows Dream Hob's made bed. That leaves the living room, and when Dream enters, he comes to a hard stop, feeling as if he's intruding on something sacred.

Hob is sleeping on the sofa, propped up on two pillows, his hands resting over his head. The glasses he uses for reading are hanging over the backrest and his lower body is covered with a soft blanket. It's a nice day outside, the big windows behind Hob are showing blooming trees and nice greens, and rays of sunshine are falling on Hob as if they long to touch him.

The picture in front of Dream is pure comfort, almost too idyllic to be real. It warms his heart that Hob didn't work himself to exhaustion but allowed himself to find rest and relaxation, for once taking proper preparations to travel to Dream's domain.

Dream can't help but walk up to the sofa, looking down at Hob. He's wearing a simple shirt, the fabric thin enough to hint at the hairs on Hob's chest that Dream knows to be there. A familiar scent engulfs him, of fresh laundry, a bit of dust that rests on books and other little trinkets scattered on shelves all around the room, and of Hob.

Logically, Dream knows that he smells Hob's sweat, his clothes, his shampoo, and maybe a cologne that Hob used, but there's still something that goes deeper. He can smell Hob's warmth, the slow breaths he takes, and the smiles Dream remembers. And whenever Hob is asleep, Dream senses the sparks that light up in his brain. He can relish Hob's dreams like others would a bouquet of flowers.

Careful not to wake him, Dream puts a hand on Hob's chest, his own body falling in tune with Hob, both their chests rising and falling and their hearts beating in synch. Dream loves to be close to Hob, using his own otherness to become more human when they're together.

Dream does enjoy human things. The food doesn't sustain him the way it would in the Dreaming, but he can indulge in the taste. Alcohol can ensnare his senses if he lets it, and Dream has grown fond of other things as well. Cuddling for example is a pleasurable use of his time, and he knows that Hob won't begrudge him if he indulges himself.

He makes himself lighter as he mounts Hob, letting his legs rest on either side of him, barely sitting on Hob's slightly propped-up legs. From here, he enjoys the view, taking his sweet time studying Hob's face.

Hob is beautiful in the Waking World. The light from outside compliments the tone of his skin and highlights the little patches of gray in contrast to his dark hair. He hasn't shaved in a while, so his cheeks and chin are covered with a fluffy beard. Dream's eyes wander from the lips he knows to be wonderfully soft over the ridge of Hob's prominent nose up to his closed eyes. The lashes flutter a little and Dream can see movement behind Hob's eyelids, even more proof that Hob is currently wandering the fields of dreams. It's time to say hello.

Dream finds Hob on the beach, and he's flattered that the surroundings resemble the shores where Dream likes to work on his creations. This is a spot for them, though. Something nice that Hob makes up in his mind to spend time with Dream.

The sun is sinking, coloring everything with hues of orange and yellow and a flock of seagulls takes flight when Dream sits down next to Hob. The salty smell of the sea wafts over to them, and Hob buries his fingers in the sand to unearth a few sea shells. He takes Dream's hand and gives him a smooth black one. "What a nice surprise to see you here."

"It's the middle of the day," Dream explains. "I wanted to make sure you didn't pass out at your desk."

"I didn't want to upset my boyfriend. He doesn't like it when I don't take care of myself, so I decided to have a nap," Hob says, playing with Dream's fingers, and when Dream hums, Hob looks up at him and smiles.

Hob is beautiful in the Dreaming. Usually, Dream prides himself on the wonderful things he creates, but he couldn't have come up with the warm smile on Hob's face and the little crinkles around his eyes, glistening with mischief and fondness when he studies Dream, always like something to hold dear, to worship and embrace in every form. Hob is love as a person, he's hope and promise.

Dream runs his hand over Hob's cheek, enjoying that Hob decided to have his beard fuller today, coming close to his appearance in 1389. A little wild, but still kind.

"You're doing it again, love," Hob says, and perhaps Dream should be embarrassed after being caught staring, but Hob is worth staring at. "If you don't stop, people might think you like me."

A smile fights its way on Dream's lips. He doesn't remember quite how they got here, but they're comfortable enough with each other to laugh about how stupid they behaved in the past, and Dream doesn't mind being teased by Hob.

"If you're worried about the gossip in the Dreaming, I can always stare at you in the Waking World."

Hob raises his eyebrows in surprise, but then the spark in his eyes comes back. "That would be naughty. You, visiting me there when I'm unable to fend off any advances. I'd be at your mercy and you could do to me whatever pleases you."

A shiver runs down Dream's spine, intrigue coiling in his belly. Hob should know better than to challenge him. "You forget that I am also the Lord of Nightmares," Dream says, leaning in to trail soft kisses up Hob's neck until he can whisper in his ear. "It's in the nature of a nightmare to be naughty."

"You wouldn't dare," Hob growls, putting fake malice into the words.

Dream draws back, once again drowning in Hob's eyes. "I'm already there, in the room with you. Do you want to hear what I'm doing to you?"

A sharp breath escapes Hob, but then he licks his lips. "Yes, yes I do."

Dream didn't mean to do anything to Hob, but having permission was tempting. It makes him lean in and kiss along Hob's neck, drinking in his scent right from the source. He's so wonderfully warm, his pulse drumming under Dream's lips, a pulse that has been beating for so long, and with Hob's ardor for life shall beat for a long time to come. Perhaps. Endless.

Shivers run down Dream's spine, the thought oddly arousing, and he finds himself yearning for it. Hob was right in 1889. Even with all the Dreaming and dreamers around him, Dream was lonely, lost at sea in a storm, desperately trying to hold his head above water, his meetings with Hob a lifeline he got to look forward to every hundred years.

And then even that got taken from him, making him doubt everything, dragging him underwater. Over the years in captivity, the loneliness wasn't what tortured him, but how much he missed things that he took for granted or even considered a burden. His friends and subjects, his work, even his difficult siblings - it all should be a reason for joy.

Hob is teaching Dream, every day, to indulge, to savor the good things, to fall in love over and over again. It's easy to fall in love with Hob, and it's quite tempting to savor him.

"I think I'll get rid of the blanket first," Dream says, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and Hob swallows hard.

He's quite used to teasing Dream, always trying to get his brooding boyfriend out of his head, but once in a while, Dream pays him back, showing his true colors.

Dream is a tease and a goddamn nightmare, and he certainly knows how to use his powers for evil. Hob remembers many times when he ended up breathless and out of his mind, fucked so well that he literally saw stars.

"You have your arms up over your head, almost as if you're tied up," Dream continues. "So helpless in every way."

"I could always wake up," Hob says, playing into it, and Dream's eyes grow darker.

"I think not," he purrs as he puts his hand on Hob's neck to pull him closer. "I will keep you here as long as I like, and over there, I'm drawing up that skimpy excuse of a shirt you're wearing. You know how much I like to play with the hairs on your chest, run my fingers through them, perhaps even pull. You're naughty yourself, darling. You love it when I hurt you - just a little."

"I guess you have found me out," Hob admits. After all, their relationship only started quite tame. Since then, they have explored a lot, most of all since the Dreaming is such a pleasant sandbox to play in. "What are you doing to me now?"

Dream lets his hand run up all the way from Hob's stomach to his chest, fingers carding through the thick hair. Hob's chest heaves in a steady rhythm, pressing against Dream's hands as if begging for the touch. Dream enjoys the life inside of Hob, but gets sidetracked by pink nipples that peak out from between all the hair.

"You know I can't help myself. I have to run my fingers around your nipples, and over them, again and again, perhaps with a bit of nail. They perk up so nicely for me."

Hob shudders at the words, and although Dream’s hand is nowhere near his chest, he can imagine the touch, even remember it. He comes close to asking Dream to do it here, too. Instead, he only listens to Dream’s words, knowing that they’re true and that right now, his body gets played with by his lover. The thought is so exquisite that Hob gets visibly excited.

Rolling the nipples between his fingers, Dream enjoys how Hob lets out a little gasp, so sensitive to the touch, even in his sleep. Dream pulls and flicks before he leans in for a taste, calming Hob with the soft touch of his tongue.

"You can't help it, can you? Becoming all pliant and sweet. You don't even need to be awake. Your body longs to be touched, to be played with. You want me to use you for my pleasure, don't you?"

“Yes,” Hob sighs, leaning into Dream as if he might be able to tempt him here as well. “Yes, I do.”

Dream loves Hob’s taste, the grounding sensation of firm flesh under his lips. Hob is solid, something Dream can sink his teeth into, and warm, hot even, especially between his legs. Dream can feel him, pulsing and twitching under his ass, arousal growing in his otherwise still body. Taking his time suddenly seems way less appealing to Dream. He wants to savor Hob, feel him inside, devour him in ways nobody else can.

“I appreciate that you’re not wearing jeans,” Dream says. “It’s so much easier to lay you bare with those loose pants. And what a sight you are. Aroused. Eager. I can’t wait to feel you.”

Even after taking the time to undress Hob as far as necessary, Dream doesn’t take so much care with his own clothes. He dissolves his pants into nothingness and sighs as he sinks down on Hob’s lap, Hob’s cock nuzzling nicely in between his cheeks.

“You’re so good for me. Hard and hot.”

Dream takes his sweet time, dragging himself over Hob again and again while he thinks himself slick and ready. Still, he doesn’t make it too easy on himself.

“I love that first conquest. Your cock breaching my walls, opening me up, making me yours.” He draws out every word, sounding breathless although they’re sitting still in the Dreaming. Dream’s arms are around Hob’s neck now, his eyes shimmering with delight as he tells Hob what he’s doing to him. Hob can’t decide what’s more erotic. What Dream does to his physical form, even when he can’t be a part of it, or the retelling of it. A filthy story with them as the main characters, the plot driven by Dream’s whims in this particular moment, told by the Prince of Stories himself.

Hob's cock is hot against Dream's fingers as he puts it in position, letting the tip drag over his hole a few times until he gets impatient and sinks deeper to fill himself, a soft hum accompanying the movement.

"You're so hot inside me, stretching me out," Dream says, Hob hanging on his lips, eager to hear what Dream is doing.

"Only because you like to make yourself so awfully tight," he huffs, trying not to think about it, but the Dreaming is not far enough removed from the Waking World right now, and Hob's body reacts in very human ways.

His dick is twitching, cold and hot shivers taking turns running over his body, and all the while he's keeping himself from jumping Dream and reenacting every word he says. Dream's appearance doesn't help. His eyes are focused on Hob, the usual bright blue replaced by a way darker shade, black bleeding into it and tiny stars shifting in and out of focus. His cheeks are flushed, and although he would never admit it, Hob can hear Dream's arousal in his words. The idea that what he's doing is affecting him even here where he has control over everything has Hob's heart stumbling. He wants to do something, please Dream, either here or there.

Inch by delicious inch, Dream sinks deeper, welcoming Hob's cock in his body while his own dick twitches, droplets of precome crowning the tip. Dream's fingers dig into Hob's chest and he tries his best not to make it painful for Hob when he can't defend himself but he's occupied by the sensations in his body. His form in the waking world is lean, made to be present only, not to react to natural influences. Hob's cock does influence him, though, in all kinds of ways. Dream can feel it stretch him out and fill him up, pulsing against his insides, creating friction and even more heat. It goes deep, perhaps deeper than it would be healthy for a human, but Dream can twist his body, making it not for function but for pleasure, taking Hob's whole length until it pokes at the walls of his outer form. Dream keeps one hand on Hob's chest while putting the other over his own heart, having them beat in unison again. Then, he lets it wander down his own stomach, feeling a small bulge.

"I have my hand on my stomach, and you're so deep inside me, I can feel you. Right there." Dream puts a hand on his stomach and Hob groans, pictures flaring in his mind of him pushing into Dream, bulging his stomach a little with every thrust, and Dream begging him for more. "I shall take every inch of you, Hob Gadling. Using it for my pleasure. That's what demons do."

As he says the words, his form flickers in front of Hob, turning darker, his eyes shining in black with stars for irises as he becomes more solid again, teeth sharp as he smiles. Hob knows he should be scared, well aware of Dream's powers, especially when the cruelty of a nightmare breaks out of him, but all he sees is a lover that enjoys himself so thoroughly that he loses shape, and Hob, a sinner in his own right, feels pride.

"I love it when you use me," he says, urging Dream to drag his claws along Hob's neck, but for now, Dream is still in control, keeping a little distance between them.

Torn between leaning back and coming closer to Hob, Dream finally decides to lean over Hob until he can press their chests together, Hob's skin heating his own, the hair on his chest creating a nice rub. Dream noses along Hob's neck again before nibbling on his jaw and dragging his lips along Hob's. So close but so far away.

"I'm kissing you," Dream says, leaning over to Hob in the Dreaming as well, his lips ghosting over Hob's. "I'm tempted to wake you up, have you kiss me back. I miss it dearly. The heat. Tasting you like finely aged wine. For now, I think I'd rather keep you as my little plaything, though."

Like a sweet goodbye, Dream leaves a last soft kiss on Hob's lips before leaning back with a sigh, the movement changing the angle in a way that drives Hob even deeper into him. For a human, this must be a strenuous thing, but Dream can ride Hob like a boat on stormy waves, movements fluid, carried along by his pleasure.

Dream keeps telling Hob how it feels, having his lover hang on his lips, feeling how much Hob longs to keep dreaming but being awake with him at the same time. Hob keeps that desire to himself, though, giving Dream the pleasure of teasing him and getting lost in the sensations all by himself. Dream wishes he could pretend to be more in control, but while only a small part of him occupies the Waking World, those pleasures are so different from the Dreaming. Tangible. Wild. Hob would call them "real." For Dream, they're much more than that. Every atom of his made-up form is woven around the fabric of the world, becoming a part of it. Hob is becoming a part of him.

Starting out slow, Dream moves up and down Hob's length, but his want becomes need, a mindless force that drives him. To go faster. Harder. Despite not needing air, he's still panting, moaning, his physical form begging for release in the Waking World while his mind forms the words to torture Hob in the Dreaming.

Hob can imagine how Dream looks now, leaning back, moving flawlessly on top of him, still keeping himself incredibly tight as he pushes Hob's dick into himself, made-up muscles clenching around him and Dream watching him, every move a deliberate blow to drive Hob insane.

"You're such a good little dreamer for me, your whole body is only there to pleasure your king," Dream says, voice regal, commanding, generous but ruthless.

Hob shivers at the words, his patience running thin. It's been a while since he wanted something so badly, but Dream's pleasure over teasing him is so sweet, he wouldn't want to take that away.

"Thank you, my king," Hob says, fanning the flames. "For letting me be your loyal servant."

Dream's eyes grow darker still, only a little twinkle left that cuts sharply like a blade, letting Hob know that his king might lose his composure very soon. Sand is swirling up, the sea behind them rumbling with bigger and bigger waves. It's Hob's dream, his imagination that built this, but Dream still changes it, dominating Hob in every way imaginable. It’s something Hob has grown quite fond of, now that he’s certain that Dream cares about him and always makes sure not to go too far.

Dream wishes he could draw this out, but Hob being at his mercy both here and in the Dreaming is a lot more arousing than he could have imagined. He keeps riding Hob like a man possessed, hitting his own sweet spot until his fingers dig into the flesh of his own leg so he won’t hurt Hob.

The waves are crashing down, water thundering past the two of them, but Hob doesn't care, too focused on Dream’s presence flickering in front of him as he whispers. “Your hot flesh inside me drives me insane, hitting just right every time. I will use you until I come all over your body, marking what is mine.”

Dream has a hard time staying in two places at once. He wants to focus on his body in the Waking World, but nothing could make him leave Hob in the Dreaming, not with the way Hob’s intense eyes watch him, hanging on Dream’s lips, drinking in his words, arousal taking hold of his whole body.

It won’t be long now. Even more heat builds up in Dream’s core, moans falling from his lips, his chest heaving with deep sighs.

“You will take what I’ll give you, and then you’ll still be at my mercy,” Dream says, lips curling into a grin around his sharp teeth, and Hob can’t take it anymore.

“Wake me up,” he huffs, fully admitting that he’s losing their little game.

Dream moves even quicker now, driving Hob into himself in inhuman ways, torturing his own insides. He’s at the point of no return, Hob’s pleading voice in the Dreaming driving him insane.

“Please, Dream,” Hob begs, his body trembling with lust. He needs to see it, to feel Dream on top of him. He wants it more than anything else in the world. “Have mercy. Let me be with you.”

It’s coming, Dream can feel it. Any second, it can be over. Hob still doesn’t move in his sleep, his loyal servant. He can keep him this way or let him see, touch, be with him.

A feral growl breaks out of Dream as he leans over, sharp teeth dragging over Hob’s ear. “This dream is over.”

Hob doesn’t slowly rise from slumber. From one second to the other, he’s right there with Dream, seeing him in all his glory and he’s more beautiful than Hob could have imagined in his wildest dreams.

Filling the room with his silky voice, Dream moans and gasps, his body crushing against Hob’s like waves against a cliff. He bites his lip and fists his fingers into his own hair. It’s even in more disarray than usual and Dream looks wild, untamed. He wasn’t lying about being a naughty nightmare.

Now that Hob is awake, Dream leans forward, snapping his hips in quick succession while his cock drags along Hob’s stomach. Then, Dream buries his fingers in the hairs on Hob’s chest, holding onto him like a jockey on his horse. He rides him just as hard, muscles clenching hot and tight around Hob’s cock.

If it had taken him a minute longer, Hob might have succumbed to the different sensations, but Dream is too far gone. He throws his head back, letting out an almost angry cry that turns into a breathless whine.

“Fuck,” Hob growls, his fingers digging into the pillow under his head so he won’t grab Dream’s hips and rut into him. “Yes, please, use me for your pleasure.”

Claws dig into Hob’s chest and Dream’s body flinches on top of him while he speaks words in a language Hob has never heard before. They feel old, but definitely filthy, and then time seems to stop. Dream freezes, his whole body tense until he comes on Hob’s stomach, marking him just the way he promised.

Hob feels Dream clench around him and it’s a mystery to him that it doesn’t make him come right away. On top of him, Dream takes a few deep breaths before leaning over and kissing him. Hob moans into it, rolling his hips, but Dream doesn’t move. He melts against Hob like a second skin and buries his face against Hob’s neck. “You’ve been so good for me. I have to think about a treat for you.”

The praise covers Hob like a warm blanket, but Dream teased him beyond measure, and Hob can’t help that he’s still horny as hell. “I think I’ll just get my treat now.”

“You do?” Dream asks, barely lifting his head and Hob puts a hand over his neck, fingers closing around it.

“You’ve been such a naughty nightmare,” Hob says, putting a little more pressure on Dream’s neck. “Now it’s my turn, and I think I will have to punish you for taking advantage of me.”

Dream turns his head as far as it’s possible in Hob’s tight grip. “Please, don’t,” he whispers, but there’s a spark in his eyes and that’s all Hob needs.

“Don’t you worry, love,” he says. “I will hurt you, just a little. Until you learn to be my sweet Dream again.”

Shivering, Dream grows even softer in Hob’s hands, giving himself over to be punished. Hob is glad he took a nap since it’s going to be a long, long night.

#REMINDER THAT THIS FIC IS SOOOOO GOOD #🥰🥰🥰#non art posts #staroftheendless #fic

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abyssalcryptid · 5 months

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ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR YOU!!!!!!😭😭😭😭💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

They're so lovely and tender, and very very sensual 🔥🔥🔥