A Heated Dream (DNF Omegaverse AU)

Scenting. Dream POV (‼️smut‼️)

3rd Person + a bit of 3rd Person: Dream POV
TWs: $mut

(smut)

Previously~

"That means we're, uh..." he blushed harder, not able to finish his sentence.

"Mates?" I asked my face red as a beet and my heart beating out of my chest.

"Yeah, right?" George scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah," I confirmed.

I could see George gulp visibly, and I watched his pale, lithe fingers twist around in the fleece fabric.

"D-do you..." he whispered, so quietly I could barely hear it. He took a steadying breath, even more blush growing on his cheeks.

"Could you, scent me?" he asked, after a beat of silence.

I could feel my stomach growing warm with butterflies in anticipation. I recalled George saying I shot up like a dog, and that he swore he could almost see my tail waving happily back and forth behind me.

"Would you let me?" I asked him, my eyes sparkling with love, excitement, and adoration.

"I just- I think it would help, with... you know," he motioned around him. My heart dropped slightly. We might be mates, but plenty of mates weren't in love with each other, I reminded myself. He just thought my scenting him would help with his heat.

"Yes, yes of course George. No need to ask me twice," I said despite my anxieties. Scenting someone didn't make you mates, but it definitely was something only people romantically interested in each other did. Although that was more of a set of guidelines for normal people. George and I didn't exactly adhere to those rules. We were already mated, and had been since before we were even born.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" I motioned towards the living room door.

"OH," he blushed even harder, apparently understanding that since he said it, he was actually going to do it.

"You know I don't have to do this," I reminded him quietly.

"No." He said firmly.

He got up from underneath his blanket, and so did I. I took his hand and we made our way toward the living room door, a thick forest of blush spread across both of our cheeks.

Currently (Dream POV):

Luckily, nobody interrupted us in our walk of shame to my bedroom, otherwise they probably would've noticed the beads of sweat on my forehead, or the sickly pale pallor of George's skin. Or even the blush on our cheeks, or the scent of slight arousal in the air.

I drop George's hand as we arrive in front of my bedroom door, and I hold it open for him.

"After you," I tease, and he does a slight curtsy before calmly walking into my dark bedroom.

I turn on the lights, illuminating the pale grey walls and the dark blue bedspread. George sits himself on my bed and seems to take a moment to compose himself, while I stand awkwardly in front of the bed, fiddling with my hands.

"Okay, let's do this," he says, and scoots back on my bed until his head hits the pillow.

I gulp.

"Okay."

I crawl onto my bed until I'm on top of him, my legs on either side of his and my torso hovering above him.

The medicine the doctors gave him to suppress his heat must be wearing off, because I can begin to smell his heat. It smells like cinnamon and muffins, a scent I accidentally mistook for Bad's baking yesterday morning.