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Summary
And it’s cold enough to feel like the middle of the night, if he faced reality and opened his eyes it’d probably be dark. Some weird dream that wasn’t even dirty and his hips are still pressing forward. And George seems to be the closest thing for him to grind against. Maybe if he squeezes his eyes shut hard enough he can fall back asleep and forget about it all.
George is so comfy against him, warm and sleepy tucked under his arm. And it seems they’d been spooning or something of the sort. And he sighs, still hard between them but awake enough to stop. But George hasn’t moved away, seeming to not mind the stiffness against his lower back.
“‘m sorry,” Dream moves to tuck his arm tighter around him, feeling the coldness of a chain against the corner of his mouth, “Didn’t mean to.”