Conjugal Visitation

how do you want it?

"Did it work?" Dream asked as soon as the lava dropped.

"Did. It. Work." Quackity kept his face stony and composed. "Why are you asking? Did you not tell me the right thing?"

"I..." Dream's eyebrows furrowed. "I told you everything! It should have worked. I swear I didn't lie. As long as you did everything right it -- it should have worked!"

Quackity decided to tease him a little longer. "What would you do if I told you it didn't?"

Dream's face grew pale. "I swear, Quackity, I told you everything."

"And you were rewarded," Quackity said, suppressing a smirk. "You came so much."

Dream's cheeks flushed and he looked down, embarrassed. "It's kind of been a while since I did it."

"Oh, I know. It makes you so sensitive. If I didn't know better I'd have thought you were a virgin," Quackity said with an evil grin. He walked right up to Dream, pushing him in the chest. Dream stumbled backwards and Quackity followed, backing him up against the sink. "So," he said, reaching up to take a fistful of that long hair. His other hand traced a finger idly along Dream's bottom lip. "How do you want it?"

"H-Huh?" Dream asked. He sounded a little breathless, still apprehensive but now distracted by Quackity's hands and the knee between his legs.

Quackity cupped his face in one palm. "How do you want it?" he repeated. "Fast and rough? Or do you want to be pampered? Do I tie you up, should I bend you over the sink, or make you choke on my dick? What do you want? You've earned it."

Those green eyes were wide. "So...it did work?"

"It worked."

Dream glared down at him. "You were messing with me?"

Quackity chuckled. "It was funny."

"You asshole."

"I'll make it up to you." Quackity tugged gently on his hair. After a second, Dream lowered his head and allowed Quackity to kiss him. The first kiss was chaste. The second was not. Dream was panting when they pulled apart. "You deserve it," Quackity murmured. He pressed light kisses to Dream's jaw, his neck, his cheeks, under his chin. Dream trembled. "You were so good, telling me your secret. I'm really happy with you."

Dream whimpered slightly at the praise. "Th-thank you, sir."

Quackity smirked against Dream's collarbone. Abruptly, he yanked his head back by the hair, exposing his throat. Dream yelped. "Good for me you're such a needy little cockslut," he whispered in Dream's ear. He licked a long, slow stripe up the curve of his neck, feeling it under his tongue when Dream swallowed. "What a worthless, desperate whore you are, trading your most valuable secret for some dick."

Dream's hands gripped the sink to steady himself. He was breathing hard, visibly shaking as the contrast of praise and degradation wrecked him. "Quackity..."

"What is it?" Quackity ran a hand under his thin grey shirt. "Tell me what you need."

"I...I want..." Dream closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

Quackity wondered if he was embarrassed by whatever he wanted to ask for. He loosened his grip on Dream's hair a little, instead kneading circles into his scalp in a slow, reassuring motion. "We can do whatever you want," he said. "Apart from escaping, sorry about that." Or letting Dream dom -- at least not for now. It helped that they had a history before the prison, so they more or less knew each other's limits. "You want me to spoon you while you pretend I'm George? Great. Want to get freaky, ask me to shit on your chest? It's not really my thing, but I'll try it if you want." Dream giggled, and Quackity joined in. "You're probably a little sore still, so I can always just give you a backrub or something."