Stygiophobia

Pleading eyes

"Dream, I really don't know what I'm meant to do here. I mean, to be pleasured by my own hand? Isn't that what intercourse is for?" George blindly asked, feeling his skin start to sweat from being caught up in his nerves.

"Oh, don't you worry about a thing, angel. There's a point where your body craves to be touched, and your hand becomes your best friend." Dream laughed quietly, because in all honesty, he never really was that loud. Something had to be hysterical for him to really laugh; he's embarrassed by his wheeze.

"Yes but, still. I mean, if I ever get a craving that bad, you're always near me." George actually laughed at himself, despite Dream growing red from under his icy skin.

"You can't just assume that I'll always be around, angel, even though I will be... You know what? This isn't about the easiest way to get yourself off, it's about the actual sin." Dream rambled, before just giving up. He was probably much more excited over this than George, even though it was George who was about to pleasure himself.

"Okay, that's all well and all, but don't I have to be 'in the mood' as people say?" George made quotations with his fingers, as he was beginning to feel awkward.

"That's what I'm here for." Dream smiled, his sharpened canine teeth practically shimmering in the warm tinted chandelier above his bed.

"What do you mean- oh." George's 'oh' slowly trailed off as Dream began stripping himself of his suit jacket, leaving him in just his white button up for once. "what are you, um, doing?"

"getting you 'in the mood.'" Dream mocked what George had said, as he slowly began to unbutton his dress shirt.

George felt like he was committing a crime for staring, but he couldn't avert his eyes. He couldn't help but let his mouth slowly open just a bit as Dreams tan skin and built figure came into view. Dream was what any gay man, or anyone would want, very attractive, and even better with his words.

"You know." Dream started as he finished off his buttons, slowly pulling the shirt off of his shoulders. "I would fuck you until you're broken, and begging me for more." His shirt fell to the floor behind as George felt his entire body heat up. "I would have my way with your precious, fragile body. We could go until you've gotten off a good four times, and then more."

"Dream, I'm." George began, but Dream didn't let him complete his incoherent thought.

"And I'd make you feel so good. So good that your eyes are letting streams of tears fall, and you can't help but moan out my name instead of speaking." Dreams voice was low; low enough for George to hear the hungry wanting, and yet still hear each syllable as if he were screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Th-then why don't you?" George looked, and definitely sounded nervous out of his mind. Yet all he wanted was what Dream was saying.

"Because it'll be too much for you so soon. You've haven't come before, you'd probably pass out with everything I can do." It was a gloat, but on the sadistic lord above, he knew he was completely right.

"I... I can take it." George's blush was a fierce red, and he could only try and cover it with his hands. Everything about George was delicate; his hands, his heart, his body. It was shamefully hot.

"We'll see in the future, for now, I wanna see you become a mess over your own hands." Dream slowly grabbed George's wrists and pulled them away from his face. "Moan for me while I watch you play with yourself."

The devil spoke words that would make a whore blush. Pretty boys make the words fly free.

"This is so embarrassing." George whined, letting his head droop forwards in front of Dream, who was directly in front of his face.