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It wasn't the strangest thing for Cross to find himself awake in the middle of the night. Unless he was thoroughly exhausted, he was a notoriously light sleeper, no thanks to guard training in his youth or the occasional snares of his PTSD.
Sometimes he'd get up, give a stretch and a shake, or scribble down his woes before conking back out. Other times, he'd roll over and give his husband a cuddle until he felt at ease, which was much the plan this time. He realized what had stirred him awake, though.
Dream, guardian of light and positivity, was not immune to nightmares himself, unfortunately. His husband had gone through his own share of torment that plagued him more often than Cross would like. And right now, he was balled up firmly against Cross’s back, arms slung round and phalanges digging painfully into his ribs, keeping him firmly, but uncomfortably, in place. Cross took in a breath, slightly hindered, trying to shift so Dream would ease up his grip. “Hey, ‘beam, ‘bea. I’m here,” he murmured over his shoulder, smoothing his hands overtop Dream’s to soothe him.
A tight, strangled noise oozed from his throat, something almost painful, before he spasmed suddenly. Cross gasped as he snapped his skull against him, grip on his chest easing off. For a moment, a bolt of panic laced through his bones. He had no idea what Dream was doing now. He’d never had an episode like this.
Cross was about to roll to face Dream and gently rock him awake, when a soft murmur vibrated against his spine.
Instantly, Cross was still, listening intently to every twitch of his being. He softened his breathing to the barest shudder, waiting to hear if Dream did it again. Hardly a moment passed when he was rewarded with something that sounded like a whimper, trembling into his bones and up the plane of his back.
He settled more, now nestled right between Cross’ shoulderblades, a spot Cross so often was weak to be touched in. Even now, it eased his anxiety some. As Cross relaxed, more sure of his husband’s comfort, he paused to process what he’d just experienced, what kind of bizarre scenarios plagued Dream in his sleep. Another something-sound, Dream adjusting against him, and Cross sighed, wondering if he’d overreacted. His face flattened as a new theory popped into his head, but it almost seemed stupid to—
Ah .
The sound came again. A whimper, for sure, stronger this time, and Cross was no longer convinced it was one of distress. No, his theory was likely correct. Dream was dreaming of him. He smirked, wondering what exactly the rib-grabbing had been for, or what exactly Cross’ body was translating to in his partner’s mind.
"Cross…" he moaned, heat rushing to Cross' pelvis at the sound. Oh, yeah. That definitely wasn't pain.
Dream's hips stuttered forward as he hugged him tighter. He could feel his SOUL thudding in excitement against his back. Cross was so weak to him, his own SOUL picked up in earnest at the stimulus. His cheekbones warmed, head hazing over at the thought of how much Dream wanted him, even in the depths of his subconscious. A shiver ran through him, hips jutting back into Dream instinctively. He gasped softly.
His husband's ecto had already formed beneath his clothes, and Dream pulled him tight. A hard length of magic started to rut into Cross' pelvic cavity, eager and with little rhythm. He clasped a hand over his mouth to stifle a moan as it slipped past his sacrum, feeling his own magic stirring heavily within, wanting for Dream’s with each thrust.
Now it was getting unbearable. He wanted to wake him so badly, but couldn't bear the thought of stopping him, ruining the bliss for them both.
Selfishly, Cross decided to wait. Just a moment longer, just a few more sleepy, possessive thrusts from his godly lover, a few more drags of phalanges down his ribs. His sockets fluttered, body burning at the thought of his love using him for such pleasure freely, wanting so badly to give him what he wanted…
He reached down to touch himself, shamelessly rubbing his pubic symphysis as his partner continued, gasping into his palm. He couldn't take it anymore. He threw his head back, over his shoulder, placing kisses along every plane of bone he could reach. Needy sounds bubbled out from Dream, but a few wet kisses later, his arms tightened around Cross, and his sockets opened.
"Baby…?"
"I need you to fuck me," Cross huffed, ecto slotting into place.
Sleepy eyes blinked, and Dream shifted a little to reorient himself. A choked groan caught in his throat. "O– oh … That wasn't just a dream…"
Cross finally met his hips with some resistance, grinding back until Dream moaned out.
"Please, please give me… whatever you were dreaming of, please," Cross begged, unable to stop himself.
" Ahnh, Cross, wait… I've got you… wait…"
Some fumbling with clothes later, and Cross moaned out in delight as Dream's cock slipped in, stretching him full. He arched back against him in delight. The guardian's forehead rested between his shoulder blades, taking a reverent moment to pet along him and catch his breath. "So tight, h-hot… s-so good…," he whimpered sweetly, and he gripped his femur, tugging it upward as he began to thrust haplessly into Cross.
Cross let a ragged moan fly, unable to move much, only able to arch and take him, take him, take him… Through his haze, he tried to match his rhythm, gripping down when Dream hilted himself, chasing that dizzying bliss when their bodies locked perfectly. His hands grappled aimlessly around him, his pillow, the sheets, at Dream behind him, trying to find something to hold on to. His other hand, pinned beneath him, hastily began to stroke the aching cock his body had also formed.
All throughout, his voice stayed high and needy, unable to help what a whimpering mess he’d become. He whined out each time Dream fucked into him, happy to be his, a hasty pool of desire between them.
Behind him, Dream was much the same. Between his groans were words slurred together, some he caught and others he’d never hope to understand. His soul ached slightly, enamored at the sound of Dream’s oldspeak, enamored that he could flood him with such pleasure he forgot when he was. "Ah–! vertü, a mæl– Crohhss…"
A breathless laugh cracked from his chest, adoring him, adoring the sound of his name so debauched. Dream nipped at his scapula. "Can't think– hnnh ."
"Don't," Cross groaned, "make me c–"
Dream broke his sentence, riding Cross harder as he gasped in delight. He angled his hips back where he could, the sounds of their ecto meeting flooded his head as a string of drool dripped down his mandible. He huffed deeply, feeling himself careening toward his end, the pleasure a hot, sweet flash-burn. He tried to speak, but found his voice stuttering short of anything. Cross could hardly warn him, shouting into the air, "C– cumming … !!"
His release spattered into his hand, walls clamping down around Dream in long, quivering waves. Dream gasped behind him, hips stuttering, before he gripped Cross' belly to him and finished with a few harsh thrusts. Cross moaned in delight as Dream let out a choked groan; hot, cloying magic filled him from the inside.
They lay gasping, neither wanting to move from their coupling for a long moment. Eventually, Dream's mouth went from open and wet against his back to kissing and licking gently up each rib and vertebrae before him. His hands cupped his front, lazily cuddling him close. Cross sighed, shivering contentedly as he started to settle. The gentle haze of Dream's aura, strengthened by the moment, was soothing him back to sleep already. His body felt slack and pliable…
"Baby?" Dream called softly, making him tremble in delight.
"Mmh?"
"You asked for what you wanted." His voice was almost too gentle for him. He flushed.
"M--mm." He could have said quite a bit about what led him to that point, but he decided to treasure it quietly.
"I'm proud of you, that was delightful." He felt his face press shyly into his back, as if he hadn't just fucked him to heaven and back. The praise simmered through his bones, and he tried to twist some to nuzzle his thanks into Dream.
"Mmh, hang on," Dream hummed, pulling his softening member from Cross, mouth worrying his scapula as he did. Cross whimpered at the slow drag, part of him wishing he'd stay there forever.
Then Dream was doting on him, wiping his hand clean, catching what pooled from his core before it could get onto the sheets, kissing him as he did. Cross preened under the attention, humming with the last throes of his need as Dream cleaned his member, before wiping away the rest of their lovemaking from his own cock.
The cloth discarded for later concern, Dream turned to kissing and petting each part of Cross he wished, whispering love into his body as he admired him. Cross sighed, eventually tugging him down from where he worked and laying him atop his chest. They breathed slowly, Dream nestling into the curves where he fit, Cross holding him there. He could have purred in delight.
"You should do me like that more often," Cross mused.
"You really like it when I top, don't you?"
Cross laughed. "I'm a bit weak to you staking your claim to me, I'll be honest."
"Damnit,” Dream curled deeper into his clavicle, “I’m weak when you do that to me.”
A deep chuckle rumbled in Cross’ chest, soothing along the back of his skull gently. “Guess we just have to keep taking turns then.”
“How hopeless,” Dream snickered.
“But really, Dream…”
“I know,” he smiled. “I feel you.”
Best sleep they'd gotten in a while.