TW: anal sex, morning sex, swearing, teasing, fingering
top dream
bottom george
Being king was wonderful.
Dream had so many people behind him that did all the work, so all he had to do was be the face of it all, he the boss of everyone.
And, he got any girl and guy he wanted.
A pretty lady in a club? He had her in his bed in minutes. A random beautiful boy walking down the street? He was around Dreams arm immediately.
It was awesome.
Even though he rarely did that, it was still fun. Just the occasional "one and done", as he didn't want to be with someone who only liked Dream because he was king, only nice to Dream because he was king, and that was nearly everyone.
But, there was always that one person who had huge balls. That one person ready to spit in Dreams face and call him a pig whenever Dream tried to initiate something— and one may think that would piss Dream off, but all it did was intrigue him more.
And who was this mysterious man that always pushed Dream away?
One of his servants.
George Davidson.
He was surprised he even knew the boys name, as he usually rarely remembered anyone's name.
But George's just stuck. Like peanut butter on the roof of your mouth. It slid off his tongue so effortlessly whilst teasing George; swears towards Dream also flew from George just as easy, and Dream would smirk to himself when the head maid would berate George for talking to Dream that way.
"What'cha doing, Georgie?" Dream strolled besides George as they both walked down the king corridor on the second story; the servants chambers were at the end of it.
"Laundry." George was pushing a giant wheeled crate full of white clothes and towels.
"My laundry?" Dream cooed, slipping over to the right side of George.
"Yes, your laundry."
Dream grinned snakily. He ran a hand up George's body, cupping his face and forcing the two to make eye contact. George furrowed his brows. "Why don't you do that later? We can do something more fun, honey bunny."
George pulled his chin away from Dreams hand, grumbling beneath his breath at Dreams words. A faint blush stained George's skin; he grasped tighter onto the cart, speeding up his steps.
He wore brown pants and an off-white cream colored shirt that had button going up and down the middle. It was similar to that of what Dream wore, except both articles of clothing were much nicer, and the pants were black.
"Cant you just leave me to do my work?" George rolled his eyes.
"I could. . ." Dream squeezed George's waist; he chuckled when he was immediately clawed at by one of George's hand, rioting at it. "But then I won't be able to hear your pretty voice, or even worse— not be able to see that gorgeous face of yours, sweetheart." He dragged a finger along George's jaw.
George blushed and buried his face into shoulder. "I'm trying to work. I need to get this load of laundry to the chambers or I'll be in trouble and I do not want a punishment from them."
"C'mon, I can get you out of trouble," Dream brushed his hands over George's ass, chuckling when George bared his teeth at him. "Or I can give you my own punishment, which I think you'll like much more."
"This is assault. And harassment."
"Yet, you're responding to my words." Dream cooed. He continued skipping after George with ease, as one of his steps were much larger than George's.
