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Summary
Dream groaned below his hands, a soft, breathless sound. Phil lifted his hands away from the feathers, waiting for him to settle down. Dream’s were an absolute mess. The kid learned how to hide them long before he learned how to take care of them. Phil almost remembered how it was, when he was that young.
"Please…" The moan was soft, unmistakable.
“Please what?” he asked before sucking a dark mark on Dream’s throat. He felt Dream swallow and he traced a line of kisses up along his pulse. “Come on, Dream. Use your words for daddy."