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Dream has been watching George move around the kitchen for a while now.
He’s looking back and forth from the pan to his phone, checking on a recipe to make sure he's doing everything right. Something about it is so tantalizing. George has his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and his hair is curling over his forehead from the heat in the kitchen. He has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his arms bare and flexing with every movement. He likes to tease and call himtwiggy, but George has more muscle on him than you’d expect. He’s hairy too, in places most men would be. Dream was shocked to find out how much he really liked it.
"What are you looking at?" George questions him. He hadn’t realized that he’d zoned out while staring at his boyfriend.
"Nothing, nothing," he shakes his head.
"You’re being weird."
"No, I’m not."
"You are," George insists, cocking his hip and placing his hand on it. Interestingly, Dream feels goosebumps on his arms.
"I dunno," he shrugs, feeling himself burn in embarrassment. "I was just looking at you."
George walks over to the table where he’s sitting, his shorts stretching over his thighs with every step. He stands in front of him, a razor blade sitting underneath his sweet tongue. "You’re obsessed with me."
"Am not."
"Yeah?" His hands graze his biceps, up and down, until he feels drunk on them. "What were you looking at me for then?"
Dream breathes a heavy sigh in, eyes on George. "Nothin’," he says.
"You sure?"
"You just look really nice right now."
George slings his arms around his neck. "Do I?" He asks, smugness seeping into his skin. Even like this, with Dream sitting down on a stool, George is still shorter than him by only a little.
"Yeah, super," he surges forward for a kiss, not wanting to be apart for long. "Missed you."
George smiles into it like he had goaded this reaction out of his boyfriend. Dream can hardly worry about that right now when he feels himself go hazy with want. He tilts his head just so, nudging George to open up to him.
Dream wraps his arm around his waist, pulling him in and onto his lap. George makes a noise of surprise, his arms flying around his neck to brace himself. Dream starts trailing his kisses down, down, down until he’s face to face with the beating of George’s heart.
Ice burns his throat, lodging the words right where his tongue can’t reach them, but George looks at him with eyes that thaw.
"I’m obsessed with you," he admits, chest seizing.
George’s hand falls to caress his cheek. He drags him back into a kiss, sweet and igniting Dream in a way no kindling could.
"So beautiful," he mumbles against his lips. "Love you. Love you," like he can’t help it.
"Shut up," George says, breathless. "Shut up. So stupid. How are you so good at this? You’re stupid," he says, almost like he’s angry about it.
Dream doesn’t know what to do when George loves on him and calls him names in the same breath. Doesn’t know what to do with the burning in his heart.
"Let me eat you out," he says instead.
George laughs, giddy with Dream’s insistence. There’s a pink to his cheeks as he shakes his head no. "Not in the kitchen," he admonishes, but Dream can hardly think right now. He kisses him like he’s coming up for air, hands sneaking underneath his shirt and along his back. George is shivering at his touch— a desire so large he almost chokes on it.
"Dream," he punches out. "Not here."
"Here is fine," he says with a kiss to the spot by his neck that has George limp in his hold.
"Dream." he sighs out, eyes closed, as he pulls Dream closer. "Bed, please. Come on, listen to me. Take us to our bed."
And it’s probably the hottest thing he’s heard in his life. The possessive our is like a brand on his hands, burning right through his skin. Us in our bed that we share, he thinks. Us, our, we.
So he stands up, placing George down from his lap. He yelps from the sudden manhandling, but Dream is already walking away before he can say anything, dragging him along.
"Okay, yeah," he agrees. "Our room. Let’s go, George."
Dream pushes him to the bed. He huddles over George, large and looming, and he kisses him like he’s trying to eat him alive. All of his senses are clouded with Dream, Dream, Dream, he’s drowning in it.
George tugs at his shirt, eyes dazed and craving for skin on skin. "Off, Dream," he demands. He doesn’t spare it a second thought, stripping off George’s shirt. He falls back into him, trading kisses like he needs to fill his pockets with it.
Dream places his weight on top of him, grinding down on him until he hears his boyfriend moan. His dick is hot and hard inside his shorts, frantic as he drags it up and down the length of George.
"Thought you were gonna go down on me?" George asks with his eyes screwed shut and mouth open in pleasure.
Dream kisses him in answer, unable to look at his mouth and not wanting to devour him. "Shut up," he kisses. "I’m getting to it."
He makes a path down from his lips to his navel, kissing down the v of his hips. Dream has the urge to smother himself in him. To be so close to his body that there’s nowhere else to go but in.
It almost disgusts him, how badly he wants George. How he’d do heinous things to keep his lips touching his skin. Desire so grand and all-consuming he feels possessed by it, like it’s taken life and is touching all over George. It makes him feel sick, how there’s something that wants George more than he does. And yes, this is still him, still his want, still his desire, but it comes out all wrong, like a separate entity. Like he found a way to want him so much that his body rejected it.
Somehow, George can tell.
He’s holding Dream’s face in his hands. Only now does he realize he’s barely breathing. Wordlessly, he pulls him up, face to face, heart against heart.
For a moment, Dream thinks he’s about to call him disgusting. That he’s about to push him away, disdain in his touch, like he’s swallowed something vile. But George touches the corner of his mouth. He presses against his lips like his fingers are asking for a kiss.
"Is this good for you too?" He asks.
And Dream couldn’t love him more if he tried. Good because it is for him. Too, because it isn’t good until it is for both of them.
He grabs the hand on his cheek, pressing a kiss to his palm.
"Too good with you. Always is."
"Okay. Good," he nods. Dream is back to kissing him before he can say anything else.
It doesn’t take long for him to get George naked. He’s laid out in their bed, breathing deeply like he’d been stuck underwater. He’s beautiful when he’s loose like this, open with his want, face painted in desire. He wraps his hand around his cock, pumping him slowly.
Dream is in no rush. He watches his face as he touches on him. He’s content to watch George pant and moan as he coaxes these noises out of him.
"Dream," George calls out.
"Good?"
"Yes. Yes, yes. So good. Just—"
Dream feels himself blush. "Yeah?"
George doesn’t actually answer him. He closes his eyes and leans back into the pillows. His hips start moving against his hold, fucking his cock into his hand. George is beautiful, taking his pleasure from Dream like this.
"Holy shit, George," he breathes out. Dream watches him for a while before he takes his hand away. He lets himself relish the few seconds he gets to watch George fuck into the air, chasing his hand. He whines high in his throat, dissatisfied with the lack of touch.
He moves quickly, kneeling at his hips. Dream lowers himself to taste George, knees shaking with the reverence he feels. It’s so much, too much.
He thinks this is where I’m meant to be as he swallows down George’s cock. Right here, on his knees, bent down like he’s praying. Like he’s using his tongue curled against the girth of George to worship him.
George’s hands fall to his hair, grabbing and tugging at him. Yes, good, more— this is what Dream hears.
"George," he says as he comes up for air. "Can I eat you out?"
George pants, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "You want it?"
There’s something so chilling about the way he says it. Dream can feel the blood in his body rushing. "Need it."
"Too bad," he says, teasingly. "You’re gonna have to go without."
"George."
"I think you’ll do just fine watching me open myself up for you. Can you do that for me? Sit there and watch me fuck myself on my fingers."
Dream is helpless against his words; the overwhelming need to please George, to do as he’s told and be good, lodges in his throat.
He can’t do anything but nod.
George leans back, staring down at Dream. His hand travels down his body, hand cupping his length and rolling his hips. Dream feels his dick twitch in his sweatpants. He’s suddenly aware of how naked George is and how clothed he is. Somehow, it leaves him feeling more exposed.
George spreads his legs wide, giving him a good view of him. Dream can’t help himself from moving, mindless of his actions, crawling on his hands and knees to get closer to George. His eyes are trained on his pretty hole, inviting him in, but before he can even get close enough to touch, George stops him with a foot to his chest.
The movement spreads him open, placing Dream right in front of his cock. He’s so close, he can almost smell his arousal. Dream thinks of himself, just a few moments ago, with his boyfriend’s dick in his mouth, and curses how jealous he feels.
"George," he breathes out, begging for something he can't name.
"No touching," George says, circling his finger around his rim. He pushes Dream to sit back, his leg falling to his side. Now, Dream is in between his legs, so close yet disallowed from taking what he wants. He sits still like a puppy with its tail in between its legs.
"I want you to watch—look at how good I make myself feel. This is what I do when I’m all alone, thinking of you."
"Jesus, George," he twitches. Holy shit. "What’s gotten into you?"
"You like it." His voice alone is enough to make Dream whimper. "You like that you want it so bad, but I won’t give it to you."
"No."
"You want to work for it."
"I don’t."
"Dream!" he laughs. "We’ve fucked enough times for me to know what you like, and I will bet you a thousand dollars; you like this. "
"Fine. A thousand on your next stream."
"Fine. Now shut up and watch me finger myself."
Dream feels a little ridiculous, hands on his lap, cock hard and leaking through his underwear, just watching. But George looks at him with such love, the teasing air never leaving. He loves him so much in this moment that he thinks his dick is flagging in his sweatpants. Like his brain is so focused on how badly he loves George that it had forgotten to remember how he’s a flame deep in his belly and how the hair on his arms stands with just one look from him.
George is moaning now.
He has an entire finger inside of him and it’s taking everything in Dream to hold back on begging. To bite his tongue and stop himself from saying Please, George. Let me.
He takes his time getting himself to a second finger. Dream thinks he might burst out of his clothes. He presses down on his erection to ease the pressure and get himself some semblance of friction.
"George," he calls out, but he isn’t listening. Instead, he has his eyes closed, one hand gripping the sheets as he stretches himself open with the other. He has his mouth open in a silent gasp and his eyes screwed shut. He’s gone to the world.
"George," he tries again. This time, he does open his eyes. Dream has to pretend he can remember what he was going to say as George rocks his hips up and down, fucking into his fingers.
"What’s wrong, Dream?" He pants. "Do you need something?"
"I want—" he stops himself before he can continue. Dream feels hazy, arousal bubbling right underneath his skin, trapped by layers of clothing and George’s explicit rule of no touching.
"What is it? Is this too much for you?"
"I want to touch you, George, please. You know I’ll make you feel good."
"Convince me."
"You—I'm—fuck," he stutters. His thoughts are cotton and his tongue has melted back into his throat.
"Go ahead, Dream," George says. "I know you can do it." It sounds less like encouragement and more like a taunt. Dream stops grinding into his palms and fists the sheets, trying to regain composure.
He can’t think of anything that can show George he deserves this. He thinks he might be shaking, but he’s so hard against the cloth of his underwear he can’t really tell. All he knows is that George is right here, in front of him, and he needs him. He’s kneeling in front of him, hands balled into fists so his body can’t betray George’s orders.
There’s only one thing on his mind. "I can be good."
"Can you?" George taunts.
"I can." Dream knows he’s only riling him up but it works so well he stumbles over his words. "I’ve been good this entire time, George. You said not to touch and I haven’t— not once. Please, you look so good, I just want to feel you."
George pulls out his fingers and rests his hand on his chest. Dream’s eyes track the shine that his fingers leave behind. He looks straight at him, like a snake waiting to wrap itself around its victim. "Alright, baby," he smiles.
He doesn’t know what does it—the pet name or the permission—but Dream shudders in his place. His shoulders drop, and he lets go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding in.
"Thank you," his voice is meek in a way he can’t recognize.
George sits up, now face-to-face with Dream. There’s a moment where he thinks George might take it all away again. That he might stand up and leave him there, aching and still clothed, and deny him once more. But instead he leans in, kissing him without intent. It makes Dream feel like he's been crowned with flowers and glitter, all fluttery and everything nice.
"Are you good? Is this okay?" George asks.
"Yes, yes," he rushes out. "I’m okay. Sorry— fuck. Sorry."
"Don’t be sorry, you’re all good."
"I’m good?"
"Dream–"
"—no, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that." Dream can feel himself burning. Nothing about their sex life has ever felt like this. Never left him feeling like he’s moments away from floating into space.
George is soft with him today. Gentle and breeze-like with the way he looks at him. "Come here, trade places with me," he says.
Dream tries to steady himself as they switch, with George sitting in front of him and Dream on his back. George leans over him, and their noses touch. It’s such an innocent moment that it sends butterflies down his stomach. He doesn’t know who closes the gap, but soon enough they’re kissing.
George is pulling at his clothes, tugging at his shirt and his sweatpants. "You can touch me. I won’t tell you not to anymore," George reassures. It’s only then that he realizes his hands have been stuck to his side this entire time. He reaches over and it’s like a dam broken. He’s touching all along his back and up his neck while George is trying to get him naked.
Eventually all his clothes end up on the floor and George still sits on top of him, skin on skin, as he grinds out moans from his mouth. The haze in his head is still there, settled like mist overtop a quiet lake.
"Dream," George calls out. Dream’s hands are a vice against his hips. He holds him tight and close to him, moving them in tandem, pleasure coming in waves. "I’m gonna sit on your face, okay?"
"Yes," Dream nods frantically. He’s pulling at George to get him even closer. "Yeah— fuck. Holy shit, yes please."
George gets up on his knees and turns, now kneeling over his face and looking down at him. Dream feels the room spin. He can’t help himself from reaching out and palming over his ass.
"Fuck, George."
"Shut up," he says. Dream can see him jerking off slowly, eyes shut and face burning. "You’re obsessed with my ass."
"Yeah," he agrees with no hesitation. Dream pulls him to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the space of flesh in between his balls and his taint. George is still in his hold, it makes him feel warm all over. Like he’s trusted to make this feel good for both of them.
He spreads George with his hands, groping as he exposes his hole and oh my god, he thinks. He’s so hard and he wants him so bad he can feel his mouth salivating.
"You’re gorgeous," in awe.
George groans, covering his face with both hands. "Stop looking, it’s embarrassing."
"Why? You look good, even here," he rubs over it with his thumb, watching it flutter with his touch.
He can tell that George wants it, maybe almost as bad as he does. But Dream is hypnotized by the way his boyfriend looks right now. Taut stomach as he arches into his touch, cock leaking and hard against his stomach, chest heaving up and down as he breathes through his arousal. There’s a smattering of hair all over him and Dream just wants to rub and smother himself until they’ve both had enough and fuck till they fall asleep.
He pulls at George to sit down on him. He grabs at his thighs, tongue circling over his hole. Dream bucks his hips into the air when he feels George’s thighs shaking on both sides of his face.
George moans as Dream sucks at his rim. His hands fly backwards to his hair, gripping as he grinds down into his mouth. "Yeah, that’s good, Dream," he pants.
Dream moans, pushing his tongue inside. He can feel his dick twitching against his stomach as George uses him for his own pleasure. He grabs at his flesh, pulling him closer, trying to get deeper.
"Like that, oh please, Dream," he moans. Dream flattens his tongue and likes up and down his entrance, then goes back to stiffening his tongue and fucking it into George, relishing in all the noises he gets to pull out of him.
"Fuck, so good. So good . Love this— love you," George whines out, almost nonsensical. He’s moving his hips against Dream’s face and all Dream can do is hold him as he does it, making sure he gives him the pleasure he seeks out.
George is trembling above him. It surges heat in Dream, deep in his belly. He wants to stay here forever, just here licking into him for the rest of time. Dream breathes deep through his nose, getting a lungful of George. It feels like he’s surrounded by George all over, all his senses attuned to him.
"Look at you— so hard for me. You’re leaking all over your stomach."
Dream doesn’t pull away, only licking in deeper as he moans in response.
He can taste it before it happens. George’s entire body is pulled taut, thighs shaking and locked around Dream’s face as he cums. It’s almost enough to get him there as well, listening to George moan his name out as he climaxes.
Then George is gone and Dream is left panting into the air with his hands empty and mouth unoccupied.
George slumps on top of him, their breaths moving in tandem. Dream moves to finish himself off but George smacks his hand away.
"Dream," he calls out, "in me, please."
"You just finished," he answers, looking over at George. He smiles back. Even now, with his mind clouded over with arousal, all he can think about is George.
"I don’t care, get up," he says. Dream is moving before George even explains anything. "I need you in me, now Dream."
George gets on his hands and knees, his back arched as he waits for Dream to fuck him. Dream kneels behind him with his hands caressing his waist.
"Can you get on your back please?" He asks.
George looks back at him and Dream nearly chokes on his own tongue. His eyes are hazy and his lips are bitten red. He can’t possibly pass up on the opportunity of being face to face as he fucks him.
"You wanna see my face?" George teases but his cock is hard again, leaking against the mattress and Dream knows how much he needs this. Dream doesn’t answer. He grips his hips, flipping him over on his back. George gasps as he hits the mattress.
"Yes," Dream explains. "Need to."
"You need to?"
"I do. I want to see your face and kiss you while I make you feel good."
"Mm. Will you now?"
Dream rests their foreheads together. It takes everything in him to keep his hips still, to not chase gratification on the shape of George’s cock against his.
"Will you let me?" He asks. And even though he’s already manhandled George onto his back he still wants the permission. It’s the first time he’s asked for it like this during sex but they both know it’s been right there for every time before this. George will tease and taunt him, dangling relief in front of his face, and Dream will whine and push back until George gives way. But never this yet, never asking for this kind of permission. He will beg and plead— can I eat you out, can I fuck you today, can you touch me— and George will either say yes or no and he will deal with it. But today he asks will you let me , because he’s not thinking about what he wants, he’s thinking about George and whether or not he wants what Dream can give him.
George closes the gap between them, a sweet kiss in the midst of the thickness of the air. "I suppose I can let it happen," he remarks, voice cheery and joke-filled.
"Yeah?" Dream giggles against his lips. "You’ll let me stick my dick in you?"
George slaps his chest. "Dream! You are disgusting," he exclaims, but he wraps his legs around Dream’s waist and he arches up to press their hearts together.
"It’s true though," he kisses.
"You’re weirdly excited about this. You do know we’ve had sex before right?"
"Yeah but— I don’t know. This feels a little different, doesn’t it?" He asks. Dream is kissing his way down George’s body, watching as he twitches under his lips.
"Because you feel like you earned it." And it’s not a question, not a clarification. George is stating it like there’s a script to be read.
Dream can’t reply, his mouth feels locked. He nods instead, nosing at the v of George’s hips.
"Yeah, you did," he runs his hands through his hair. It almost feels like he’s petting him. "You listened to me today."
"I did."
"You made me feel good."
"Yes."
"You made me cum with just your mouth and now you want to be rewarded."
"I don’t—"
"Wasn’t a question, Dream. Take what you want, you earned it, haven’t you?"
Dream groans at the words. It seems wrong, to be told to put his own desire first when he’s so used to the opposite. But George looks at him with eyes so intense he knows this is more than just him taking without giving in return. I want this because you do, he hears in the way George breathes.
So Dream pushes George’s legs up, bending at the knee. He situates himself in between his thighs, his dick so hard he thinks it’s turning purple.
The slide in is so easy it almost makes him cry. He can feel himself throb against George’s walls, tight and hot.
"Fuck," he curses out, trying not to cum right away.
George locks his legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. They share a moan when his hips hit his ass.
"Come on, Dream, you’ve been good. Fuck me, please," George whispers into his ear. He clenches down on his cock and that’s all it takes. Dream is pistoning his hips in and out, like he’s trying to climb inside of him. The slide is hot and so good he can barely control the way his hips move.
George is moaning and writhing underneath him, the pleasure from his orgasm just moments ago still cresting, building up inside of him. It spurs him on, changing the angle to fuck into him just so. He knows he got it right when George arches impossibly high, bouncing down to meet his thrusts.
"Fuck, feels so good George," he moans. Everything fades into the background. Dream is drunk on George, fucking him deep because he just can’t help it. It’s so so good, all the time with them, and today is no different. He can feel the heat from their skin with every touch, igniting the room, laboring their breaths.
He’s close. Too close too early on. Dream is choking on air and slowing down his thrusts even as his cock cries for more, twitching inside of his boyfriend.
"You’re about to cum already?" He asks, not unkindly. The question sticks on top of Dream’s skin, making him shiver.
George’s hand comes up to the side of his face, "keep going." And this time he knows it’s not a suggestion.
Dream thrusts, fucking his cock back into George. He’s focusing all of his energy on not coming right away while George grips him tight like his ass doesn’t want to let go.
"You’re gonna cum in me? Leave me hanging?" He asks, each word punched out with every move of Dream’s hips.
"No, no," he moans. "Won’t do that George."
"Poor Dream, can’t even last long enough to get me off."
He knows the words are teasing, a way to taunt him into giving George what he wants, but it sends a weight to his gut, burning through his organs. Dream shivers, his hips spasming as he drives deeper, faster into George.
"I can," he insists.
"Pathetic Dream, crying because his stupid dick can’t make me feel good. That’s why I had to do it myself, earlier with my fingers. You don’t know how to do it right, do you?"
"George," Dream whines. "Shut up."
"You’re so big, Dream. Too bad you don’t know how to use your dick."
"George," he shudders. He can feel George smirking against his neck, moaning as Dream thrusts sporadically.
"Don’t hold back, Dream," he whispers. It’s enough for Dream to push himself in deep and let go. His legs quiver from the intensity of his orgasm, hips jerking into George again and again.
When he’s done and George has coaxed everything out of him, he slumps against his boyfriend, nothing but a pile of limbs and a heart beating way too quick.
George is kissing all over his face, hands tangled in his hair. "My beautiful boy. You were so good for me."
"George, you–" he starts.
"I know, you were perfect." George is pushing at his chest trying to get Dream to stand up but he won’t budge. Instead, Dream buries his head in the crook of his shoulder and humps his overstimulated cock into George.
"I can still go, George. Please, please."
George gasps at the sensation. He was prepared to jerk himself off to finish but hearing the desperation in Dream’s voice, his weakening thrusts and shaking limbs, pushes him closer to the edge.
"Dream," he moans. George can’t say anything else.
Dream looks at him, mouth hung open. There’s reverence in the way he moves, with his stuttering pace and whining mouth tracing the length of his neck. "Is it good?" he asks. "Are you close, George?"
"Feels so good, Dream," he mumbles against his skin. "Keep going. You’re doing so well, fucking me so good."
Dream is whining, hips moving even faster. "Please, please," he begs.
"Please what, baby? What are you asking for?"
"Cum, please. George, I can’t." he whimpers. George knows his cock must be painful from all the overstimulation. "Come on, please… please George."
George can’t deny him anything now. With the way Dream is crying, face contorted in pleasure and pain. It swallows him whole, flames tickling his underbelly. Dream likes being told what to do, to be made useful in moments like this and George thinks he finally gets it. His body tenses as he reaches his climax. And even as his dick is spilling out in ropes, all he can think about is how beautiful Dream looks like this. His eyebrows scrunched upwards as he leans his entire weight against George, relief painting his face.
His cum sits in between their bodies, sticky all over.
"Oh my god," George pants out. Dream is boneless above him. He pushes him gently to the side, moving so he can get them a washcloth.
"Where are you going?" Dream slurs out, eyes barely open,
"I’m getting us cleaned, wait here."
When he comes back, Dream is asleep on his stomach, peaceful, like he didn’t just fuck into George to the point of tears. He wipes him down until the dried cum isn’t sticking to him anymore. Dream sighs back into the pillows, stirring awake.
"George?" he mumbles.
"Right here, Dream." He gets under the covers beside his boyfriend, pressing up close to him until every inch of skin is touching. "You okay?"
"Super okay. The very best."
"Good," George kisses his cheeks, arms wrapped around him in an embrace. "Today was a lot, huh?"
"Yeah," he agrees. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"
"More than." It's in moments like this that George lets down all his walls. He lets Dream know how deep his love runs in the touches he gives after everything. He’s more open with his words too, less joking and more of saying ‘I love you’ without prompting.
"You were perfect. So beautiful too, Dream." He kisses along his jaw. "Pretty boy."
"George," he complains. "I seriously can’t go again."
"I was just kissing you! Can’t I kiss my boyfriend anymore?" He pouts at him, knowing what it does to Dream. He doesn’t actually want to go again, he just wants to see the faces Dream will make if he thinks he’s angling for a round two.
"You can," he answers, his voice so quiet, it’s like he’s swallowing his own words. "I meant me. Don’t kiss there or I’ll literally get hard again."
George thumps his head on Dream’s back, the place where his spine bends to say hi to him. "You’re insatiable," he laughs.
"Well, I’ve got an extremely sexy boyfriend. Can’t really blame me."
"And you owe your extremely sexy boyfriend one thousand dollars."
Dream groans. "Can’t believe you remembered that."
"Well, I wasn’t the one crying, going out of my mind."
Dream blushes furiously, and George decides it’s time for bed before he kills his boyfriend from a heart attack.
George is leaning back fully on his chair, one leg up, and Patches sitting comfortably on his lap. He’s been streaming for a while now, just lounging as he talks to his chat. A familiar sound alerts both of them to look at his screen. ‘Dream donated $100!’ the notification read. There was no message attached to it. George laughs, his head thrown back.
He ignores every chat about the donation for the rest of the stream.