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Karl has the strangest ideas sometimes.
And that’s what his roommate knows him for. He tells him so—tells Karl that he has the strangest ideas—but it’s never a complaint. It’s more of an observation, simple and friendly, like a knocking elbow against his side when he comes up with something dumb for them to try on a weekend they have no plans for.
This is probably the strangest idea, though. There’s a multitude of reasons why it’s strange, why it’s borderline stupid, but Karl does it anyway.
“Dream,” he says, opening a conversation steadily.
And the blond looks at him. He’s curious, perhaps confused, and he’s only just gotten back to their dorm when the word cuts through the air. He still has a hand on the door as it slips shut behind him, but he’s facing Karl expectantly.
Karl blinks, and he knows it needs a preface. “Can you do me a weird favor?”
Dream lets the door shut fully. And he sets his bag down on the chair in front of his desk, heavy-sounding when it lands.
“Sure,” he answers. “What’s the favor?”
Karl knows it’s stupid. And really, he should just back out now; quit while he’s ahead. He shouldn’t even ask, because it’s weird, and no amount of prefacing can erase that simple fact.
“Can you help me, like…” he hesitates, worried but not worried enough, “I have a date next week, and I don’t think I know how to kiss.”
He does not have a date next week.
And Dream stutters. “Y-You want me to…” the words die on his tongue.
Karl blinks. He thinks he’s turned red, heat spreading beneath his cheeks, and he can’t let himself look at Dream anymore. His eyes find the bed he’s sitting on, the creases in his sheets not nearly as interesting as Dream’s face, but he settles.
Dream is still sputtering across the room. Karl bites his lip, not hard enough to taste blood.
This was a really stupid idea. God, why did he ever even ask?
“You want me to kiss you?” Dream questions, clarifying and confused, and Karl swallows.
He feels his hands shake in his lap. He pretends he doesn’t, nodding simply and without the ease he wants it to be.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “You don’t have to, but like… it’d be helpful.”
He shrugs, acting far more casual than he feels. Internally, he’s screaming, and he can feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest without relent.
“You’re nervous enough about your date,” Dream starts, pacing closer to Karl’s bed, “that you’re asking me to kiss you?”
Karl makes a high-pitched noise that’s meant to show agreement. And he nods, too, just for good measure, trying his best to look more composed than he really is.
This was a stupid idea.
There is no date to be nervous for. And lying is always bitter, and bad, and pale white, but Karl does it anyway. He does it because he doesn’t know what else to do, and he does it because he’s been staring at Dream’s lips with an insatiable want since they met each other; he just never knew what to do about it.
This feels like a solution. Because he remembers a friend from high school who asked an acquaintance of hers to teach her how to kiss because she liked some guy from her math class, but there was no guy from math class, and she just wanted an excuse to kiss him.
It worked for Karl’s high school friend. Why wouldn’t it work for him?
“Yes,” he answers finally. “I want you to kiss me. As practice.”
Practice. Karl reminds himself, baseless. Practice for a date that doesn’t exist.
Dream nods, slow. “Right,” he mutters. “Practice.”
The room is silent for a second too long. Karl clenches his fists, holding his own fingers as tight as he can let himself.
“So?” Karl prods. “Is that a yes or a no?”
Dream sighs, long and breathy. Then he steps closer, knees hitting against Karl’s bed frame, a look of hesitance on his face and in his eyes. Karl offers him a smile, hoping to quell some of his uncertainty.
“Sure,” Dream relents, whispering. “I’ll help you out, but like… that’s it. I’m just doing you a favor, like you said.”
Dream looks at Karl like he’s serious, pointing toward his chest. With wide eyes, Karl nods, tousling the hair sitting on his forehead without stability.
Just a favor, he repeats in his head. That’s all I need.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Just helping me out.”
Dream nods, seeming pleased that Karl understands. And he gestures toward the small space on the bed next to Karl, waving his hand flippantly and hoping it gives enough of a hint.
For a second, Karl doesn’t get it, but it comes quickly when he blinks. And he shifts over, sliding in close to the wall, leaving barely enough space for Dream to fit on the bed next to him.
It’s uncomfortable. This bed was not built for two people to sit like this, and based on the look he gives Karl, Karl thinks that Dream knows this, too. They stare at each other for a moment, borderline vulnerable, and Dream is reaching for something without ever landing his palms.
Karl lets his eyes follow the motion.
Then, Dream’s hands fall. And he watches Karl, a hesitant look in his eyes, but he’s watching nonetheless. They take a moment to observe each other, and Karl thinks he might be hesitant, too—even if this really was his idea.
His heart beats too quickly. He knows he wants this, because he asked, but maybe he didn’t realize just how much he wanted this.
He wants it a lot, he thinks.
“Ready?” Dream asks, soft and staring, his eyes trained on Karl’s with unwavering emerald.
Karl nods. “Yeah.” He’s breathless.
But he’s ready. Really.
Dream leans in, slow and purposeful, and Karl thinks he might lose his mind. He’s been practically waiting for this moment for as long as he can remember, and now it’s coming to reality, steady unlike the beat of his heart and real.
First, he feels Dream’s breath on his lips. And they’re still for a single moment before the gap slips shut completely, eyes shut gently and lips melding together at their middle. Their mouths slip into each other as if they fit, and Karl swallows the whimper he felt rising up his throat before it could spill into Dream’s parting mouth.
It feels too good. And Karl had kissed people before, albeit not very many, but it had never felt quite like this.
He wants more. More, more, more, and he thinks he could get addicted to the way Dream’s lips slide against his own or how his hand moves to cup Karl’s cheek. It’s that grip that drags Karl in closer, mashing their lips together further, a spread of pressure against mouths and huffing breath that spills through close-together noses.
Karl feels everything at the exact same time. Firelight, sparks, and the sucrose taste of candied sugar on his tongue; it’s everything.
He wants more.
But Dream pulls away. And it makes a sound, leaving Karl’s lips feeling raw and empty, and he already wants to lean back in and take, take, take, but he holds himself back out of principle.
His hands are caught in the fabric of Dream’s hoodie. He isn’t quite sure when they landed there.
“Yes?” Dream whispers, a clarifying question that spills in breath across Karl’s slick lips.
“Yes,” he repeats, sure of himself.
Dream nods, minute. And he leans back in before Karl can do it for him, their lips meeting once again. It was as if they’d never even parted, warm sugar and red candy underneath their tongues.
And it’s tongues, because Dream flicks his across the part in Karl’s lips. Mindless, Karl makes it wider, and he lets Dream slide his tongue between his lips with silent permission and take as he pleases.
If Karl thought he wanted to take, then he wants to be taken from even more.
So he lets Dream take, and take, and take. He lets him have what he pleases and forget the rest, he lets him melt into Karl’s mouth until they’re connected with quiet permanence. He lets his teeth knock into the flesh beneath pink lips, he lets him have him whatever way he wants; it feels so right.
Maybe it’s perfect. Karl thinks it’s close.
The bed creaks under their weight. Karl knows that they’re sitting too close, and that the bed is too small and too rickety, but he doesn’t know what he’s meant to do about it.
It seems that Dream does, though. He breaks away with a spark of determination in his eyes, the hand tracing Karl’s jaw slipping loose momentarily.
They stare at each other. Karl raises an eyebrow, curious, as Dream seems to think a little too long about something trivial.
“Weird idea,” Dream mutters, and Karl thinks it’s about time that Dream has the weird idea. “Sit on my lap.”
Karl manages to freeze without prior movement.
“What?”
And Dream flushes pink. It’s dark, but it’s careful, and his eyes fall to the sheet-covered mattress at the same time his hand loosens further.
“I-I don’t know…” he stutters, and Karl smiles softly at how nervous he seems. “The bed’s kinda small, I just thought—”
“I’ll do it,” Karl interrupts. “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right.”
Dream grins, unafraid. And both of them move immediately, Dream with his hands to Karl’s waist and Karl with his to Dream’s shoulders. They practically climb around each other, landing with both of Karl’s thighs bracketing Dream’s waist, and he settles in his lap with careful ease.
They’re still for a moment. And they stare at each other, somehow finding this to be too close despite Dream having his tongue in Karl’s mouth just moments before.
Karl thinks about saying something. He doesn’t get the chance, thoughts interrupted by the mesh of Dream’s lips back against his own.
They kiss each other stupid, and stupider, and stupider even still. It’s a mess, but Karl thinks he likes it, lips sliding against each other with an ease that could only come from familiarity. Maybe it’s too easy, and maybe Karl had made a mistake with this for all the reasons he failed to consider beforehand.
Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe this is worth it.
In the moment, it certainly feels like it is.
“You,” Dream breathes, panting against Karl’s lips, “are a damn good kisser, Jacobs.”
Karl’s eyes brighten. He’s grateful that Dream can’t see how pathetically elated he looks right then, eyes shut and world quiet.
“Yeah?” he asks, clarifying, and Dream makes an open-mouthed noise of agreement.
“I don’t know why you were worried.”
Karl feels the confusion etch itself across his face before he can think. And he’s tightening his grip on sweatshirt sleeves that cover broad shoulders, and he’s watching green eyes open, and he thinks that he may have forgotten the lies he was supposed to tell.
“Worried?”
So Dream looks confused, then. They share it, the confusion, but neither is for the same reason; not quite.
“About your date,” Dream explains, perplexed. “Worried about your date.”
Right. He thinks he was even just considering that, and he calls himself stupid for forgetting.
He calls Dream stupid for making him forget.
“Oh,” Karl whispers, settled.
Maybe Dream smiles, or laughs, or both. Maybe he sees right through Karl, and maybe Karl is okay with that. Because he’s still sitting in Dream’s lap, two large hands swallowing his hips, and he thinks that nothing gets better than this.
Even if it’s fleeting. Even if he told mistruths to get here. Even if it will be over some time soon, even if he can’t have it forever.
He has it right now, and that’s enough.
“I think your date’s very lucky,” Dream says, soft enough to be nothing more than spilling breath. “They get to kiss you.”
Karl thinks he could just take the compliment. And Dream seems okay with that being the end result, because he kisses Karl again, but there are still words pressed to the front of his lips that he doesn’t want Dream to taste.
So even as he tries to kiss back, he presses his palm flat against Dream’s chest and pushes back. Their lips slip away from each other, and Dream reels backward until his head knocks against the wall, staring up at Karl with slick lips and wide eyes.
“There is no date,” Karl rushes, speaking quickly when he’s afraid of the sound of his own voice.
It’s quiet for a moment. Only a moment.
Baffled, Dream doesn’t close his mouth. “Huh?”
“There’s no date,” Karl repeats, and honesty emerges from the shadows he’d hid it in. “I just wanted to kiss you.”
And Dream smirks, smirks, prideful and arrogant with all the pieces of himself that Karl was so enthralled by. He was glittering, and Karl stares, fearless and witnessing.
“What?” Dream questions, feigning idiocy. “Can you say that again?”
Karl rolls his eyes, but he obeys in spite of that. How could he not?
“I just…” he still hesitates, embarrassed with red-turned cheeks. “I just wanted to kiss you.”
The smirk on Dream’s face etches wider. And he leans upward, seeking, their lips colliding once more with all the same ferocity as before. The flame burns startling red, perhaps threatening, and Karl thinks he would be afraid of it if he wasn’t the one who struck the match.
They kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss, taking things from each other and giving in return. Karl feels on top of the world, and maybe he is, sitting in Dream’s lap with a smile on his lips through their kiss. He’s sure that Dream can feel it because he smiles, too, and they match each other without hesitation.
Teeth drag against supple flesh, painting both the pink lips and the peach skin beneath them with lovely, grooving sin. Karl quite likes it, and he’d take more of it if he could, a sharp presence without the pain.
When they break apart, it’s not bittersweet or unfortunate. It feels earned, and they stare at each other, grinning with a strange sense of pride.
Dream looks at him, unabashed. He’s breathing, steady yet unkempt, lips slick and bitten bruised by teeth unsure of possession.
“Is this what you wanted?”
Karl swallows, threatening. He thinks he knows the answer.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “This is what I wanted. You.”
Dream raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Me?”
Karl breathes, strict and red.
“You.”