Endless Dream

Green Green Dress

Iris padded the hallways, the green dress fluttering behind them as they moved. They had a tendency to walk on their tiptoes. It raised their posture, making every muscle in their legs flex but causing them to teeter from side to side. They wobbled along the halls of the library, selfishly seeking out Dream.

The game that Dream played with them was rotten, or at least it felt horrible. He was absent from them for days, weeks and even months, and when he felt lonely or starved of touch, he would seek them out. His affections were never hidden, nor were his feelings made a secret to the occupants of the realm. He was open about his fondness for Iris. But he only acted on them when it suited him and was convenient for his schedule. If Iris had their way, he would share their bed regularly and share his woes, his joys with them, as often as possible.

They were selfish. They knew he was a member of the Endless - not that it had ever really been explained to them in depth. They knew he had a duty to humanity to create and control their dreams, for what happened in The Dreaming affected everything in the waking world.

In the first years of their life, Dream had spoilt them. He showered them with affection, memorialised their pavilion into a sacred garden only for them, and even created a room in the palace where they could be closer to him. Still, over the centuries, his grand gestures had grown few and far between. Now his only recurring gift was the irises coveted by Iris as a dragon might hoard its treasure.

Iris saw a gathering in the great hall at the other end of the long library. They couldn't hear the words but felt Dream's presence in the commotion. A cruel smile spread across their face. Perhaps they could indulge their wickedness with a little display. Dream would regret jilting them.

Iris twisted their wrist, conjuring a small piece of fruit into their palm. The pomegranate felt ripe and cold in their hands. If the dress didn't do the trick, the fruit would. Iris cradled it, rubbing it back and forth along their palm before approaching the tall doors.

The palace shifted, the doors shutting when Iris neared. This was Lucienne's doing. The librarian must have seen Morpheus' change in demeanour and ordered the castle to block their path. The pair were thick as thieves. In the many years of Iris living within the palace halls, they only managed to get to a place of mutual understanding with the building. They have left it treats, took great care with its insides so as not to anger it but the palace held firm in its resistance to their charms.

"Really?" they said with a scoff. The palace ignored them and placed a secondary barrier between them and the door in the form of a large horizontal bar over the doors. Iris thought about trying to move it, but the palace stiffened, ready to retaliate. Their quarrel wasn't with the castle, and they did not need to turn their home into a hostile environment.

Morpheus felt Iris' presence near, his eyes scanning the large hall for a glimpse of their hair or a flash of their eyes in the crowd. Lucienne had called him away in the early morning hours for a meeting between the houses of his realm. They had complaints about the state of The Dreaming. Nightmares had begun sprouting up in places they weren't invited to. Dream was only half listening to their grievances and gripes. He had considered sending them away so he could bury himself between Iris' supple thighs, but the librarian was persistent.

"Ahem," Lucienne coughed beside him, warning him to pay attention to his subjects. Dream shuffled in the chair, still wondering where the little minx had placed themselves. He had no doubt they were planning something spiteful to punish him. He had wondered if, during their creation, he had corrupted them with some small piece of his darker nature, for they could enact mean tricks that he never thought a being capable of. The creature could be the sweetest nymph or his most ruthless subject.

"....Last night, my birds were shrieking something terrible, I didn't see what upset them, but they still haven't calmed down,"

"My vegetables have fermented. They weren't even ripe yesterday. I don't understand,"

"My house had lost all its colour. My bright yellow walls are now a void. There's nothing there anymore,"

He propped his head against his hand, his fingers holding his head upright and towards his court's upset lords and dukes. His other hand lightly gripped the edge of his throne to distract him from the wafting scent of lavender in the air.

Iris could feel him searching for them, his eyes scanning every inch of the room. They ran their tongue along their teeth and smiled. The palace wouldn't let them through, but it didn't say they had to leave. Iris looked at the wooden panelling of the doors, wondering how thick they were and how well they would hold sound within the room. They brushed the door's surface with a delicate touch, picturing Dream as they did.

Dream stiffened, feeling something run down his chest and pausing at the waistband of his trousers. He cleared his throat to stop himself from gasping from the contact. Lucienne watched him curiously, the librarian's eyes narrowing. Dream waved them off, trying to ignore Iris' advances whilst keeping a shred of dignity in front of his subjects. He cursed Iris internally, feeling their delight emanating from behind the doors.

His focus zeroed in on them, catching glimpses from the library. He could feel the brush of the soft, silky fabric of their beautiful green dress against his skin. He remembered the last time they wore it. They made sure to make themselves as distracting as possible. Iris knew he was watching, picturing his eyes darkening as they rang their tongue along the pomegranate and bit into its soft flesh. The juice rolled down their lips and chin in thin beads of crimson.

Dream had to press his fist against his mouth to stop himself from moaning. He folded his legs to cover up the tightness growing in his trousers. The lords were blissfully unaware of his plight, bickering amongst themselves.

Iris swallowed slowly, flashing Dream the sight of their throat bobbing as the juices flowed down their throat. They returned the fruit to their mouth, running their tongue against the bobbled insides. Iris twisted and licked their tongue along each pip, saliva pooling in their mouth. The juice flowed down their chin and along the slope of their throat, splitting into more rivulets that painted their pale chest.

Dream was feral. His grip on himself was lost at seeing them, covered in sweet pomegranate juice. He wanted to tear the doors off their hinges and devour them. He wanted to shred that dress and tear it apart with his teeth. He was practically murderous with his stare, making the doors feel as thin as glass.

"Still missing parts of me, my lord?" they challenged him. Iris let one of the dress straps from their shoulder, flashing more of their delicate flesh to him. The edges of Dream's mouth twitched, the muscles around his nose beginning to form a snarl.

"My lord," a stout, short man asked.

"What," he growled at them, the air around him getting colder and heavier. Iris grinned at his outburst.

The court members backed away, searching for the room's edges to hide from him. Dream shook his head and apologised profusely, rising from his throne to sit on the lower steps of his throne room. He placated them by offering them sweet treats conjured from the air.

Once they tucked in and relaxed again, he glared at Iris, whose hand pulled up their strap and walked away from back the way they came.

He looked to his hand, which now held the half-eaten pomegranate.