Five Nights at Freddy's one-shots

Mini part two

Springtrap lay in the middle of the two men. Scott had his legs wrapped around one of Springtraps, sleepily grinding against it while he dreamed of something disgusting. Henry was laying with his head on Sprintraps shoulder, drooling into the gore matted fur, one leg draped over Springtrap's stomach.

Springtrap grinned, carefully shifting his hips to help Scott, who had begun audibly whimpering. Henry dreamed something different, though.

He was running fast, the hallway was never ending but he didn't seem to be out of breath. Suddenly a pressure began building in between his legs. He cried out and something shoved him hard in the back. He collapsed onto his knees. It was Springtrap, and he ground against his ass, holding the back of Henry's head, pushing him into the floors. Henry screamed in fear and tried to scramble away, but a hand grabbed the sensitive back of his thigh and drug him backwards. But it wasn't Springtrap's hand, it felt human. He turned around, landing hard on his back, but he was in a bed now, a big, fluffy white bed in a room the was burned into his memory.

Afton sat in front of him, looking how he did before the accident, he black hair was shined and slicked back, his eyes glinted and that cheeky smile lit up his features.

"Henry, this is just a dream. You killed me." He said, but his voice was thick and lustrous, a tone not appropriate for a phrase like that.

"No... this isn't a dream..." Henry complained, laying back against the pillows. Afton crawled towards him, spreading Henry's legs apart and sitting in between them, leaning down to kiss him softly.

"This is all a dream. I love you Henry." He murmured, kisses lingering to his neck. "I love you even now. You will love me back. You will, I promise. You'll need me soon enough."

Henry jolted and he was back in the bed he fell asleep in, thin covers, squeaky mattress. And springtrap. His arms were around Henry, holding him and caressing him, fingers drawing little shapes in his side.

He was singing and Henry couldn't even focus on it. He moaned softly. He loved him. And he knew it.