Stalker // DNF

30: Dizzy

George's stomach tenses and it's as if Dream's hands have been placed on a stiff board. He squeezes his eyes more tightly shut, the flame of adrenaline extinguishing and allowing for his fear and insecurities to tumble back in.

Dream withdraws from the kiss simultaneously to his hands slipping back out from underneath George's shirt.

George reluctantly tears his eyelids open to see Dream's down-turned eyes, hovering close to his face.

'You don't ever have to do anything you're not comfortable with,' Dream says softly, escaping from George's grasp to stroke his cheek tenderly.

George can't lie by saying he didn't feel an immediate relief when Dream's palms receded from his abdomen. However, accompanying this relief was an ache which would only be satisfied with Dream's hands touching him again.

He pushes his back off the wall slightly, allowing enough room for a breeze to squeeze past as he lifts his arms to grab Dream's wrists again, less rushed this time.

Dream's curious eyes follow his movement as his limbs are guided back underneath George's shirt and are pulled further back to rest on the others' back, just below his shoulder blades.

'George, I don't need to -'

'Dream - I want your hands on me,' George interrupts, still tense but content with his middle now untouched.

As Dream processes his words, George leans forward to re-connect their lips, his previous bravery returning. Moving away from the wall had pressed his body further into Dream, nudging their hips and thighs together. His lower body consequently smoulders, goosebumps forming where Dream's trousers brush his.

While he feels like every inch of him is burning, Dream's hands relax and become increasingly comfortable, cupping George's back and melting him wherever the artist's fingertips land.

George's hands release and lift, one slinging over Dream's shoulder and curving around the back of his neck, while the other buries in Dream's hair, wet and slippery from the rain.

Dream's bites down on George's lip before he teases his company's mouth open again, pushing his tongue in deeper. His actions are paired with his hands beginning to shift across George's back muscles, sweeping up and down his sides.

George's fears disappear into the cloud in his mind which expands and pushes out all other thoughts from his brain, leaving him dizzy and losing touch with sanity.

Dream's touch and kiss becomes more frantic, sending tingles from one nerve to another until George's entire body feels jittery and out of control. His hand dives down and away from Dream's scalp to sweep his fingers along the edge of the painter's waistband, tracing the skin which lays above the belt hoops.

Dream pulls George nearer to him again by pressing on his back. Both individuals mould together, eliminating distance being unsuccessful in satisfying their growing desire.

George rocks his hips against Dream, his thoughts slipping, his mind clouding and his yearning increasing.

Dream groans quietly against George's mouth as George dips his finger ever so slightly underneath the others' waistband, circling his hips.

Enough, a dimming voice screeches in George's brain. Enough.

The voice echoes in his mind, leaving a mark before being pushed entirely out of George's brain by lust.

But the voice had been heard, causing George's last piece of resistance to pull him away from Dream's kiss.

Both parties stare longingly with droopy eyes at each other, panting breaths exiting their mouths and mixing together in the cold air as their foreheads collapse and rest on each other.

Dream's hands slip down George's back and land at his waist, holding on loosely to both sides.

George pulls his hands away from Dream, every ounce of energy in his body contributing towards his attempt to focus. He separates his limbs from Dream, causing the artist's hands to drop to his side, as George hooks his finger into his pocket to grab his keys.

He turns to his side to unlock the door, bending down to pick up the flowers leaning on the wall as he stumbles inside. He spins around to face the outside in the doorway and catches Dream looking expectantly inside George's flat.

George smirks and uses all his willpower to whisper, 'Goodnight, Dream,' before he nudges the door shut behind him, erasing the painter's presence from his vision.

Once the source of chilly air is cut off, he collapses against the wall, his shoulder prodding the light-switch on and filling the room with colour. His palms slack to drop the flowers carelessly to the floor, raindrops collected on the petals seeping into the carpet.

He brings his hands up to touch his flaming cheeks, his head still foggy and distracted. He inattentively tosses his keys and phone onto his sofa as he founders over to his desk.

George chucks himself onto his chair, throwing his head back to let out a frustrated sigh.

When he pulls his head back upright he stares at his monitor, it's empty blackness encouraging the formation of stupid ideas in George's preoccupied mind.

After a weak argument in his head, the haze of his thoughts provokes him to lean down and turn the computer on, opening his desk drawer on the way back up to grab his box of tissues.

He tosses the box on the desk and closes his eyes to relive Dream's words from the night before.

'I... I have it set up so when your webcam turns on I get a notification.' 

His monitor lights up. He knows Dream isn't home yet, he's probably a few yards down the street, sitting at the bus station. He knows he should wait, or just stop now and hold off until he can think clearly again. He knows he's crazy, but he can't direct his energy towards caring right now.

George lifts his arm up to turn the webcam on.

He slumps back into his chair, giving himself one final chance to turn the device off before he has to give in.

He discards the thought, feeling deep in desire and out of control. His arm flops down, every last piece of resistance and sensibility dissolving from his wit. 

George winces while slipping his hand underneath his waistband, knowing Dream is watching his every move.