Patreon Compilation – Fic#309 – Dream/Hob – The Sandman – modern-ish Hob; overstimulation; touch starvation; worship – Dream A Little...

Dream/Hob – Hob has Dream wrapped up. What a wonderful, wonderful gift. He can barely believe he gets to make his friend feel good.

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Dream is so quiet that when he makes a sound, Hob freezes where he is and swallows thickly. Just a single, breathy ‘ah’ has him hovering around the creature the… the God, hands fluttering about his narrow shoulders without quite touching the near translucent skin.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to stop?” He’s not exactly proud of how his voice quivers but he can not help it either. The thought of being the one that manages to make Dream hurt is making his chest squeeze rather uncomfortably.

Dream slowly lifts his head a little. His hair, formerly slicked back, has started coming loose and falling into his eyes. They look wet but that is nothing new. If Hob has learned anything from his companion in all this time it is that he is always filled to the brim with emotions that he does not dare to voice.

“I am quite alright,” Dream assures him, voice as soft and borderline detached as ever. “Do not worry yourself. It is just…”

Hob still hovers around. He wants to touch – he should touch, really, if he wants this to go anywhere – but he still does not quite dare. Dream is just so…

Well, he is ethereal. Wholly otherworldly, yes.

Dream continues after a moment of gathering his thoughts: “...I suppose it is that I have never truly felt as such.”

“I don’t… understand.”

Dream’s mouth twitches and he has the audacity to smile at Hob; close-mouthed and serene. “Neither do I.”

Hob exhales in exasperation. The vice around his chest loosens in favor of mirth bubbling up. He tilts his head forward, wanting his hair to hide his expression but remembering that he cut it just a few weeks ago to suit the current trends more. No hiding. Not from Dream who keeps watching him with curiosity; hanging in the ropes Hob bound him in.

Unselfconscious. Trusting.

Hob glances down his narrow chest and tight stomach and just stares at his cock. He looks so human and he is painfully aware that that is simply because Dream wishes to look thusly.

He’s erect.

“Are you truly enjoying this?” Hob asks him softly. He squats down in front of him, fingertips finally touching the other’s solar plexus. Slowly, he lets them slide down, watching as Dream’s expression becomes, if possible, even more spaced-out. His mouth is the only real dot of color in his pale face and becomes so relaxed and plush as he exhales on a soft, breathy: “Yes.”

Hob swallows thickly. His fingers slide further down, his whole being focusing on the way Dream’s muscles quiver as he touches him and says: “It is just… it feels so wrong to have someone like you in bonds. Like… like putting a bird in a cage. Or something.”

Dream does not reply. He has let his head sink forward once more, chin against his collar bones, and is breathing slow and long.

Hob swallows thickly. “Right,” he mutters and then, because he realizes his fingers have trailed down to pet against the hairless skin above Dream’s cock: “...Right.”

It’s as pretty as the rest of him. Long and slender with a tip that is slowly darkening to the color of his lips the longer Hob just stares at it. Dream does not appear embarrassed. He is just watching Hob from underneath his jet black lashes. Staring unblinking. Maybe he is reaching right into Hob’s head and sees what plethora of unsavory thoughts are rushing through his mind.

He hopes not. God, he hopes not. It feels like he is corrupting an incorruptible being.

Slowly, Hob turns his wrist and gently wraps his fingers around Dream’s shaft. It is so very warm to the touch. It must be sensitive just like a normal human’s, too, because the Endless makes another of those little ‘ah’ noises.

Hob’s gaze jerks up to his face but Dream has actually turned his head a little to the side. It does not hide the light flush on his cheeks.

“The short hair suits you,” Hob croons, then thinks about his words, tilting his head, fingers slowly moving along Dream’s cock as he assents: “Then again, everything suits you. You are eternally beautiful. Do you know that? Has anybody ever told you?”

Dream turns his head back forward. He’s looking at Hob but he’s not saying anything. He looks at Hob like a long extinct creature that is so much more intelligent than he. An odd comparison, maybe, but it feels like the right one.

Dream is so much more intelligent. He is so much… more. In every way, shape or form. And here Hob is; a stupid, undying human, groping at this being with his caveman hands.

And Dream lets him. Leans into him, even. He has slim hips with sharp hipbones and they lightly tilt forward, pushing his cock into Hob’s fist and making the softest little sound in the back of his throat.

A little… whine, maybe? It goes right through Hob’s whole being like a lightning strike.

Neither of them are virginal. He thinks. He can not see Dream living for as long as he has and not…

But he sounds like it. The noises he makes are so soft and airy, his reactions so instantaneous to Hob’s movements. Hob crouches down, his fingertips dancing across the flushed tip of Dream’s cock.

… and Dream whimpers. The big Adam’s Apple in his throat bobs. Hob is just staring at it, his mouth utterly dry as he gently brushes his fingertips across the warm tip once more and feels how it has become sticky with wetness.

“You’re beautiful,” Hob reiterates breathlessly. There are not many more words floating around his aching head, after all. Slowly he moves from crouching to kneeling. It feels like the right thing to do when concerning Dream.

He leans forward, his hands grasping on to a slim waist, feeling skin that just feels too uncanny to be real, simple skin and leans forward, breathing a warm breath across Dream’s cock.

The other convulses in his bindings. Slow and beautiful like a wife. As if he just can’t help being like this: elegant. Breath taking. Ethereal.

He can get his cock sucked and sound like he’s singing. For Hob. His voice is climbing. When Hob glances up, he can see that he’s grabbed a hold of the ropes and is just holding on to them with desperately tight fists.

Hob swirls his tongue across the glans and is rewarded with a choked little sound. Dream is biting his lips. Is he trying to be stoic? If so, he is failing and that, for some reason, is such a profound realization that it makes Hob’s heart squeeze.

He pulls back with a soft pop, a thick strand of saliva connecting his bottom lip to Dream’s flexing cock.

“You’re so sensitive,” Hob comments, heart pounding in his chest now. He leans forward and licks Dream’s glans and all he gets instead of an answer, is just another whine.

He’s thrashing in his bonds. Except not really. He is moving from side to side, twisting himself up into shapes, the ridges of his ribs pressing up against skin-that-is-not-quite-skin and he looks so absolutely breath taking that Hob finds himself just sitting and staring with his head ducked and his tongue out, just shy of touching the beautiful creature’s cock yet again.

“M-More… I implore you-”

Hob nearly goes cross-eyed listening to Dream begging. Dream. Begging. Dream begging him. His blood is pumping so hot through his veins he’s sure he’s going to combust any moment.

His fingers trail across Dream’s skin, trembling, crawling up the bumps of his ribs to his narrow chest. Dream’s face twists for a second as if in pain, his whole body convulsing, cock bumping into the little cleft on Hob’s chin.

“More,” he whimpers, high-pitched and needy.

Hob can’t wrap his head around how sensitive he is. His trembling fingers, way too rough to be touching such as Dream, drag across his silky little nipples.

And just like that… without Hob needing to so much as touch his cock again, Dream comes for him. He throws his head back, his whole body tense in an orgasm, muscles trembling beautifully as his hot spend hits Hob’s lips, his chin, his throat in sticky pulses.

His mouth opens in reverence, fingers still mindlessly brushing Dream’s chest. He can taste this ethereal being’s cum and it is nothing like anything he’s ever tasted. His brain draws a blank at comparing it to anything. Something. His tongue dashes out and keeps licking at it but he can’t come up with anything.

Ambrosia.

Dream whimpers again. The same pathetic, desperate little sound he’s made the whole time. He’s overstimulated. Just with what Hob has been doing to him. Hob’s brain aches and his heart swells.

This is too much for a single human being to comprehend. But he wants to try so badly.

If Dream will have him.