George has overcome the riches and the tight kept tendencies of his family finding a rag tag team of street racers. After learning the ins and outs of Las Nevadas, he's come to decide that joyriding is a newfound freedom. But with all the aftermath...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"I wish I could show you more of yourself." Tangerine Glass Animals
"I don't like him."
"I never said you had too," Quackity looked out amongst the glass in the Lumi sector's headquarters and caught a lip of neon paint in passing. Smeared over George's cheek, the man grinned and followed Dream through a crowd of writhing bodies and spilling drinks. "Beat him in the race for all I care, I only want the attention off our backs. We've had way too many unwarranted visits from groups who are borderline enemies because of him."
Foolish scoffed and leaned back against his slow color changing chair. Quackity couldn't stand the obnoxious look of this sector but the creator left. And no matter how many times he's tried to change the order they revert back to her ways.
"Dream has always been a type of animosity to the racing community."
"With George here he's an even greater fiend." Quackity looked fondly towards his friends under flashing lights and teeth shown laughs. "Not to mention the love story scandal that's been circling like the plague. Since Final Flame, I've had fifteen offers from expensive magazines and reporters to give a story on the fallen golden boy. The heir to a near billion dollar company gone rogue."
Foolish giggled, "Surprised you didn't sell out."
"And get all of Las Nevadas arrested for a front page tabloid? Hell no."
"I see, I see." The other mad sat up and adjusted the shark pin biting into his overdressed lapel. "What about another race?"
"It'd have to be bigger than Final Flame. We need talk."
Foolish stood and finished his glass of amber liquid, "It doesn't need talk. It needs a new victor and a tragic downfall."
Immediately shaking his head, Quackity said, "No deaths."
"Course not," a friendly slap landed over Quackity's shoulder while the other laughed tightly. "We'll need something believable though. An explosion, a minor crash..." they both looked out the window and watched George giggle at something Dream whispered in his ear, "a breakup."
Quackity didn't want to get in the middle of that toxic realization, but he'd do whatever he needed to in order to keep Las Nevadas alive. He'd done it once he'd do it again.
Just below the building Quackity and Foolish watched Dream spinning George around. Hot hands seeped into the more revealing top George was forced to put on due to his fall into the watering hole. Dream wasn't going to complain seeing this much skin exposed to him and George was slowly becoming comfortable with it if his boyfriend kept touching him like that.
With his thumb and index finger pressed together, Dream ran an imaginary penny over George's exposed stomach. Looping around his left hip under the black lights and pulsating LEDs, Dream could feel every exhale his boyfriend released. The slow, the fast, the short, the hitches, it was like ecstasy bottled up and released on touch. A grip to his flank and George dropped his head against Dream's neck. Damp hair meeting sweaty damp skin, lovers in the wrong, Dream nosed down his skin through the mask. Fabric scratching over delicate ivory and tattooed color.
