Conjugal Visitation

journal entry.

Quackity's body grew heavier against Dream as he drifted off. He kept making these adorable, sleepy little sounds, too, which would have turned Dream on immensely if he hadn't been trying so hard to control himself. Stripes was comfortably sprawled out beside them and he didn't want to disturb her, but more than that, he didn't want to break the moment. They fucked all the time, but they didn't cuddle nearly as often.

Later, after Quackity had gone, Dream pulled out his journal. He was working on a cipher in case Sam found and confiscated the book again. He should have thought of that months ago -- but even back then, he hadn't been paranoid enough to really believe anyone would take it.

It just proved his point -- any time he got attached to something, someone found a way to use it against him. He scratched Stripes behind her left ear, her favorite spot. Dream would quite willingly commit murder for this cat.

Dream wrote a few practice sentences in code. He was getting the hang of it. May as well test it out writing about Quackity.

I had fun today. After, we cuddled and I'm a simp but I liked that a lot. The lava is warm, so it's not like I'm ever cold in here. But he's warm the same way Stripes is. Softer.

Q was being weird and wouldn't tell me why. He relaxed a bit after he fucked my soul out of my body though

Whoever pissed him off I hope they do it again, I swear I came like five times. I should be a brat more often.

Dream scratched all of that out, his heart thudding too loud in his ears. Even using code, he couldn't let go of the anxiety over writing about Quackity like this. He refused to be the reason Sam found out what they were doing.

If he was honest with himself, he was terrified Sam would find out -- less because of any punishment from Sam and more at the prospect of losing his only visitor. There was no way Sam would approve. Anything that he liked, Dream thought sourly, Sam opposed.

So he couldn't write about Quackity. At least not directly. He could still write about him without writing about him.

Dream turned to a fresh page.

Today reminded me of when I used to sleep with George when we were younger. Just in bed asleep, not "having sex" sleeping together. Cuddling? It wasn't always cuddling but it was just -- being near each other. For me it was always platonic, but when it started getting romantic, I didn't mind. I just went along with it because I did love him. And the sex was good too. But until I started seeing Fundy, I didn't really get that he and George were feeling something different than me. I kind of just wanted to be close to someone. Physically or emotionally/mentally? I guess? Through friendship or sex or whatever. But I think I finally got the idea that the feelings George and Fundy had were a little different from mine. It was like they couldn't be close to me without romance, if that makes sense. I mean, I never asked them about it, maybe I should have. I didn't say anything because I just wanted to be close with them in whatever way I could, and if it had to be romantic for them to let me in then OK. But it made some things harder. Like I felt like I had to be a certain way with them? Or I was worried they'd break up with me if I explained and then we wouldn't be able to have ANY type of relationship. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't matter now anyway. I cut all those outside ties and attachments for a reason. I'm overthinking it again. The whole point of writing all this down was to say: I like this arrangement because I don't feel like I have to fake anything or worry that he'll get attached to me in a way I can't reciprocate. Like obviously he's attached -- or said he cared last time -- which I think I believe? And I do care. But not in a way that feels weird and wrong. Like he doesn't make me feel like I HAVE to care a certain way and I like that I guess...ugh I don't even know what I'm saying anymore

Dream paused his furious scribbling. He'd gone on a rant over multiple pages, dropping out of the cipher without even realizing it as the words poured out of him.

Well, nothing he'd written would give them away. Probably. He huffed. He ought to be exhausted from being edged for so long and then fucked out of his mind earlier, but instead he felt restless, and it showed in his messy handwriting. The wall of untidy text reminded him of his early days with the journal -- all ranting about how wronged he was and what he'd do once he escaped.

Well, sometimes you just needed to vent. Dream didn't even fully know what he was trying to get at here, and it felt like his thoughts on the whole thing had changed several times over the course of writing about it. He'd found that just the process of writing helped him organize his scattered thoughts and emotions. It made introspection easier when he could look back on old entries and see his thought processes.

The thought of Sam reading it made his skin crawl.

He petted Stripes's belly, earning himself a swat. "Sorry, sorry." He tucked the journal away in its hiding spot and got out a fishing pole toy for her.

He amused himself playing with the cat, letting thoughts of Quackity and his former friends fall away. 

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A/N: Hello, thank you for reading. As an arospec writer this chapter was important to me! It's nice to fit in serious stuff between all the smut. Also, my commissions are currently open at ko-fi.com/switchwitch :)