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    Summary

    Set in the universe of @avelera's "Come Live With Me and Be My Love"

    “Good morning, my sweet,” he says, and when he kisses the rounded curve of one pale shoulder it prompts a faint sigh, and a hand as pale and slender as a lily lifts and sways imperiously in the air.

    “There is little good about it,” Dream mutters. Dream’s voice, not Morfea’s. Yes, even as he’s watching, he can see the way her flesh shifts, the shimmer in his perception between man and woman and both. It takes long seconds for Dream to settle, and Hob waits, patience in his heart, that longing urge to gentle still thumbing through him. “I will not be good company today.”

    Hob prides himself on being a considerate lover, and when Dream wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, well. Orgasms are supposed to lift the spirits, right?

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