Beneath The Surface - DNF

Chapter 5

Dream pushed open the door to George's office, the cool metal handle giving way under his firm grip. The room was bathed in the soft, ambient light from the city outside, casting long shadows that danced across the minimalist decor. The faint hum of the club outside was a distant echo, barely penetrating the thick walls that insulated this private sanctuary.

George was standing at a sleek bar cart in the corner, his back to the door. He was pouring himself a drink, the amber liquid catching the light as it cascaded into a crystal glass. He moved with a casual grace, his focus seemingly on the task at hand, but there was an air of awareness about him—a subtle tension in the way he held himself, as if he knew exactly who had just entered the room without needing to look.

Dream hesitated for a moment, watching George's every move, trying to gauge his reaction. George seemed almost too calm, as though Dream's presence was nothing more than a mild curiosity. Yet, Dream knew better—George was too intelligent, too calculating, to be caught off guard, especially in his own domain.

Without turning around, George spoke, his voice smooth and unhurried. "Dream, isn't it?" There was no surprise in his tone, just a mild, almost amused interest. He finished pouring his drink and set the bottle down with a soft clink. "I've heard a lot about you, drug dealing master, on top of the pyramid, it's quite surprising to see you here."

Dream's pulse quickened at the acknowledgment. George knew who he was, knew enough to recognize him without even needing to see his face. This was no casual meeting; it was a calculated move, one that George had prepared for, even if he hadn't expected it to happen tonight.

Finally, George turned to face the blonde, a glass of whiskey in hand. His eyes were sharp, he was wearing sweatpants and a tight white shirt, still looked beautiful, his waist was so thin and those pants were doing good when it came to perfectly outlining his ass. He took in Dream's appearance with a quick, assessing glance. "I didn't expect you to drop by unannounced," he continued, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dream stepped further into the room, his mind racing as he tried to decipher George's intentions. There was no sign of alarm in George's demeanor, no indication that he felt threatened. Instead, there was a quiet confidence, a sense that George was in control of the situation despite the unexpected visit.

Dream locked eyes with George, the unspoken tension between them thickening the air. "I think you know why I'm here," he replied, his voice steady, matching George's calm energy. He was here to negotiate, to test the waters, and George's reaction would determine the course of their interaction.

George took a slow sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact with Dream. "Perhaps," he said, his tone teasing, yet laced with an underlying seriousness. "But why don't you tell me anyway? I like to hear it straight from the source."

"I wanted to see it up close, you know I'm very determined, you can see by the way I behave professionally." Dream discreetly chuckled. 

George's eyes flickered with something—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe amusement—as Dream's words hung in the air. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass thoughtfully, the ice clinking softly against the sides. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of the city outside, and the tension between them thickened, like a coiled spring waiting to snap.

"You wanted to see it up close," George repeated, his voice low, almost a whisper. He leaned back against the edge of his desk, his gaze never leaving Dream's. "And what exactly is 'it,' Dream? The club? Me? Or something else entirely?"

Dream didn't hesitate, his eyes locked on George's, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You," he said, his voice steady, tinged with a challenge. "I wanted to see you up close. I've heard a lot of things, and you know I'm very determined when I set my sights on something."

George raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips. "So I've heard," he replied, his tone light but with an edge that suggested he wasn't entirely amused. He set his glass down on the desk beside him, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded Dream. "But determination can be a double-edged sword. It can bring you closer to what you want—or it can cut you down if you're not careful."

Dream took a step closer, the air between them crackling with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. "I'm always careful," Dream replied, his voice softening just a fraction, enough to betray a hint of vulnerability beneath the bravado. "But you know that already, don't you? You've been watching me just as much as I've been watching you."

George's smile widened, his eyes glinting with something darker, more dangerous. "You're not wrong," he admitted, pushing away from the desk and closing the distance between them. He stopped just inches from Dream, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. "But tell me, Dream—now that you've seen me up close, what are you planning to do about it?"

The question hung in the air, daring Dream to make the next move. George's voice was calm, almost teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness to it, a challenge that Dream couldn't ignore. He had come this far, pushed his way into George's world, and now there was no turning back.

Dream's pulse quickened, his mind racing with possibilities. He had expected this to be a confrontation, a battle of wits and power, but now that he was here, standing in front of George, it felt like something more. Something deeper, something that he hadn't anticipated.

"What do I plan to do?" Dream repeated, his voice dropping to a whisper. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the cool fabric of George's shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin just beneath the surface. "I plan to get exactly what I came here for."

George's breath hitched, just barely, but enough for Dream to notice. The moment stretched out, the tension between them almost unbearable, before George's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

"Not feeling so confident anymore, huh George?"

George leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from Dream's. Dream could almost feel the heat radiating from George, his heart pounding in anticipation. But just as Dream closed the distance, expecting to seal the moment with a kiss, George's hand shot up between them, gently but firmly pushing Dream back.

The door to the office swung open, and George stepped aside, his expression now cool and detached. "Goodbye, Clay," he said, his tone laced with mockery as he used Dream's real name. "Let's see if you're really determined."

With that, George gestured toward the open door, his eyes challenging Dream to take his leave. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, with promises that would have to wait. Dream's frustration simmered just beneath the surface, but he knew better than to push further tonight.

Dream held George's gaze for a long moment, his mind racing with thoughts of what this encounter truly meant. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the office, his resolve only strengthening with each step. George watched him go, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips as the door clicked shut behind Dream.