High (DreamNotFound)

11

George has been bugged by something. Not Clay, of course. It's been a week since his stream with Clay, and it brought a lot of controversy about his career. He hasn't dropped a statement yet. For two days straight, his phone has been exploding with notifications. All his socials had been tagged and mentioned, asking about Clay and him. His friends were worried about him since he hasn't talked to any of them. Nick called multiple times, he even threatened to fly back to George's house in a week of he doesn't respond. Bad had been tagging him on twitter, and so does Wilbur. The kids, Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo had been trying to contact him through discord. But none of those were answered.

George couldn't care less if everyone was worried. Even Quackity--Alex, had called him multiple times, saying he's gonna visit him in a month, but George never replied. George had Clay with him, and that's all that matters.

Clay had access to George's socials, so he was the one who calmed his friends. He replied to Nick, telling him that George was okay and that George was taken care of by him. George was just not in the mood to talk to anyone. Nick understood and passed the message to their worrying friends.

George has been moody, lately. He's been craving for Clay every single day. Clay couldn't be with him for every minute of the day, he had work. So every night, Clay would make it up to him by baby-ing him--even when he had a long day. He didn't have enough sleep too, because George would be whiny and beg Clay to touch him, and they'd be at it for at least two hours. Every. Fucking. Night.

But Clay didn't mind. He didn't mind George's whining, mood changes and childishness. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed how George would wait for him every 6 in the evening. He enjoyed how George would cling to him and be whiny about how he doesn't want to let go. He enjoyed how George would be less moody, and at those times he'd be the one servicing Clay. They'd be sleeping together on the same bed, every night, and for a few rounds they'd be sweaty and catching their breaths, as if they ran a marathon. He fucking enjoyed every second of being inside George, it was one of the things he looked forward to whenever he starts with his day.

Clay's work wasn't that hard. He'd just be somewhere on the streets, face unrecognizable due to the mask covering his face. He'd be in multiple places throughout the day, one transaction after another. He was swimming in money every after one. He'd be making hundreds of thousands a day. He wasn't scared of getting caught, because he knew every transaction was secured. He will never be caught. The only thing that scared him the most was George finding out, and George will leave him because of it.

He just plans on making enough money and quit that job of his. Maybe in a month, he will. He plans on asking George out once he's out of his job.

Yes, that's right, he and George? Not a thing.

Yet.

Clay arrives at the apartment building. He ignores his own door and goes straight to George's, opening the door with the keycard they shared. He sees George laying on the couch, sleeping. He smiles at how cute George looked.

George was woken up by the smell of food. He sees the back of Clay facing him. He smiles and walks up to him and wraps his arms around Clay, the usual. He burries his face on the soft muscles of Clay's back. Clay smiles at him.

They ate together in silence.

George knew that Clay didn't have anything to do the next day, it was saturday. He decided to do a stream, but to avoid any sexual tension between them...

Clay was washing the dishes and George was in his room, waiting for Clay. He looks around in his drawers, taking those pills. He swallows one, throwing the rest back into the drawer to hide the evidence. He chugs down the water on the nightstand. He sits down on his bed.

George's mind started to get hazy. His vision was blurry for a second, as his body temperature sky rocketed. His body was hot, and he was sweating. He removes his hoodie and rests his back on the headboard. He feels his dick tighten against the cloth of his underwear. Crazy how it hasn't been that long, his body is ready to get fucked.

His breathing starts to get ragged and and uneven. The door opens, revealing a shirtless Clay. George shuffles around and covers his body with the blanket. Clay turns off the lights and walks to the bed. "Baby, I'm really tired today so maybe we can, like, not do it tonight." Clay says as he lays down next to George. George looks at him with wide eyes.

"B-But Clay, I just--"

"I'm really sorry, George. I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay? Let's just rest." Clay turns his back to George, who was about to cry. George needs to release. He was shaking from what he was feeling in his stomach. The pain was unbearable.

George stands up and runs to the bathroom and locks the door. He made sure to lock it so no one, not even Clay, could get in. Deep inside, George was hoping Dream would show up but he forced himself not to think about it further, especially when he was with Clay. He bends over the sink, staring at his reddened face. As soon as his pants and underwear were off he jerks off his weeping cock and finds the lube in one of the drawers. The cool liquid on his fingers were about to enter his tight hole. Clay's dick was just there the night before. His hole was abused by Clay. Yet when he pushed his finger in, it was so fucking tight. George could only imagine how Clay would've felt whenever he fucks his ass.

The second finger enters and he immediately moves it in a scissor motion. The stretch between the two fingers whenever they move apart was really helping. He pushes his fingers deeper, the tip of his fingers barely making contact with his prostate. George tries to suppress the moan trapped in his throat, and he elicits a muffled one, scared that Clay will hear him. When the third finger enters, George bolts forward, his chest pressed on the cold stone of the sink. He moans when his nipples rub against the cold hard cement. He thrusts his fingers deeper, and this time, once every few thrusts, his fingers would touch his prostate and this sent him over the edge. He releases and paints the sink white--barely visible but it was a lot for a normal ejaculation.

George realized that if he keeps on doing this--swallowing pills that he knows would only make him go crazy and heat up his body,  and Clay wouldn't be there all the time to calm him down. Those pills were fucking addicting--and the only thing he could think of was Dream. Wait. Dream?

George moans when his finger brushes off of his prostate, as the thoughts of Dream thrusting inside him fills his hazy mind. He imagines how Dream's nails would drill into the skin of his hips, pulling him closer to Dream's. He imagines; Dream's long and slender fingers wrapping around his own dick, pumping it and the thumb smearing the cum on the tip. While Dream is thrusting inside him, he would feel how Dream's cock pulses inside, and would release inside him. All while Dream sucks on his neck, creating marks that would take time to fade.

George realized that if he took those pills, Dream was the only one who could calm him. Not Clay. Clay would've but he had no right to. Only Dream can fuck him while George is high because of those pills. Only Dream could touch George while he's high. Clay could never fill that void. Clay was only for him, in a way that Dream could never be. Even when Clay and George had been fucking every single night, if George is high, Dream is the only one who can touch him.

It was fucking confusing.