Pandemonium | Dream SMP

82. If I die because of a bad back I'm going to kill him.

Hot lips brush along my neck, starting beneath my ear and trailing down to the jut of my collarbone. The sensation is ticklish, a soft sigh leaving my lips as I reach back and run a hand through Dream's tussled hair.

"Good morning," I hum.

"Hey," is his whispered response, voice hoarse from our previous night's shenanigans. I smile to myself, pride blooming in my chest that I'm the reason for his dishevelled state. I'm willing to bet no one else has brought Dream to his knees the way I have, both figuratively and literally. For all his big talk, he crumbled surprisingly fast beneath my tactful touch.

"I was expecting you to be gone," I admit, twisting to plant a kiss to his lips. He leans eagerly in, green eyes soft and swollen and overshadowed with a sleepy haze. My fingers find their way to them, running smoothly beneath the puffy flesh. His eyes are so pretty—forest green with the smallest flecks of hazel. His lashes are long and blonde, and they flutter softly when my thumbs slide across his cheeks, wiping at faded tear tracks. "Were you waiting for me to wake up?"

He simply hums in confirmation, nuzzling into my hands like a dog seeking affection. If I weren't certain of it before then I certainly am after last night—this man has completely and utterly fallen for me. It's a powerful feeling knowing I have the SMP's most dangerous man wrapped around my little finger. And also a little scary.

"We should get up and shower," I prompt, placing soft pecks over his eyelids before attempting to pull away. He doesn't let me get far. As soon as our bodies begin to peel away he grumbles and loops his arms tighter around my waist, pulling my back flat against his chest. "Dream," I huff, hands sinking beneath the covers to try and pry his arms away. They're locked like lead across my stomach, and refuse to budge even when I pinch at the skin.

"Let me enjoy this just a little longer," his breath fans out across the back of my neck and I find myself immediately giving in. His morning voice is so deep and crackly, and with the rawness added in is downright seductive.

"Okay, a little longer," I concede, tangling my legs with his and bumping our feet together.

He buries his nose into the crook of my neck and begins to trail his lips again, sucking softly up and down my skin. He goes especially gentle over my scars, paying extra attention to run his tongue along the healing flesh.

"Don't get excited. We don't have time for another round," I warn, feeling the hands at my stomach begin to inch their way down.

"You're no fun," he mutters, biting into my ear.

"Is that so? I swear you were crying otherwise last night."

His hands jump at my cheeky remark and even without seeing his face I know he's gone tomato red. "Sh-shut up!"

I laugh, patting his hands as he buries his face shamefully into my hair. "It's okay. You have a cute crying face. Nothing to be ashamed o—ah!" His hand pinches at a bruise on my thigh and I squeal.

"Nope! Cuddle time is over!" I declare, elbowing him in the ribs and rolling from his loosened grip. I feel disgusting as I sit up, throwing the sheets over Dream's smirking face. It's been a few years since I last slept with someone and I forgot how unpleasant the morning after could be. "Ah, shit!" I exclaim suddenly, causing Dream to sit up straight, his green eyes wide with alarm.

"What? Are you okay?!"

"I forgot about Schlatt!" I say, limping my way to the bathroom to turn on the shower. "I need to go check on him!"

Dream groans and drops back into bed, "fuck him. He's probably still passed out from the wine."

"But what if he isn't?" I argue, returning to the bedroom as the shower warms up. I stumble as I walk past the bed and Dream shoots out an arm to keep me from falling. He sighs and sits up again, pushing away the covers.