Chapter Text
When Hell moves against the Endless, it is not the Dreaming the demons aim for, but Desire’s realm instead. It is practically an ambush, and by the time Desire calls for help, their realm is filled to the brim with demons and hellfire.
For all their bitterness and petty fights over the years, Dream still arrives first to defend his sibling, only faster than Despair by mere moments. They stare at one another in mutual understanding before jumping headfirst to join the fight.
The fires of Hell are hot, but the Endless burn hotter, brighter, fiercer. Once Death arrives, the demons start to fall back and retreat. They were prepared to fight against one, perhaps two or three Endless, but not four at once. When Delirium joins the fray, the tide of battle has turned towards their victory.
At the battle’s peak, Lucifer stands before Dream, angry and proud. They trade blows over swords and magic, tossing ancient curses where blades cannot reach. It is a long fight, longer than any Dream can recall in all the times they’ve stood against one another, but eventually, Dream emerges the victor. He is injured, but it is nothing that time will not heal.
Desire is wounded as well but no worse for wear. It will take time for their realm to repair itself, for the damage to be no more than a memory, but for now, the Endless siblings revel in their hard-won victory.
It is only when Lucifer is driven back fully into Hell that Dream begins to notice the itch. It is a small thing, at first, but as time moves on, it becomes more and more difficult to ignore. Dream’s body has always run cold, but in the past few days, he has been unusually warm, and then suddenly he is hot. No matter how cool he sets the temperature of the Dreaming, no matter where he travels to in the Waking to shake off this heat, it stays with his body like a fever.
The heat is made worse by the ache that grows in his belly. It is an empty, gnawing feeling, like a hunger, but one that is not sated by food. Dream tries to eat, but everything in the Dreaming tastes like ash, and when he makes an attempt in the Waking, he cannot taste anything at all.
The Dreaming too is eventually affected by the sudden change in his demeanor. The dreamers who enter his realm are restless, anxious, and unable to relax no matter what the Dreams of the realm do. The Nightmares, by contrast, are thriving on the tipped scales of the negative energy.
It is weeks before Dream realizes what is happening, why his body is rebelling against him. He discovers an angry red scar along his right flank, and he too easily recognizes the handiwork of Lucifer. Dream had thought all his injuries from the battle in Desire’s realm healed, but this one stays on him like a brand.
Dream locks himself in the library with Lucienne to research what has happened to him, the heat growing increasingly worse as the days pass on. He is no longer able to regulate his body temperature, and after a time, he sheds his clothing entirely, receiving a raised eyebrow from Lucienne and Merv, but nothing more.
Dream is no stranger to nudity. In the early days of his realm, Dream often walked nude within The Dreaming, until the sleeping minds of humans began to dream of clothing and modesty. He barely noticed his nakedness trapped in the glass prison of Roderick Burgess, and he does not notice it now, sitting bare on the chaise lounge, trying to find reprieve for the heat that has consumed his every waking moment.
"My lord, you need rest," Lucienne insists to him on his eighth consecutive day in the library.
“Do you think I had not thought of that?” Dream snaps, then immediately regrets it. He sighs deeply, imagines instead a cool wind blowing through the Library. It materializes within seconds, granting him a brief reprieve.
“I am sorry, Lucienne ,” Dream says after a few moments. “I have attempted to rest, but this curse from Lucifer has allowed me no respite.”
Lucienne nods in sympathy. “I understand, my lord,” she says. “I’ll continue to research the cause of the curse.”
“Thank you Lucienne,” Dream replies, and attempts a reassuring smile. He is pretty sure it comes off more as a grimace.
Lucienne moves to touch Dream’s shoulder, presumably to comfort him. It is a gesture they have exchanged thousands of times, and yet today, her touch scalds him, and he howls in surprise. Lucienne jerks back, alarm clear on her face.
It is then Dream realizes exactly what has happened to him. He reassures Lucienne he is fine, and then dismisses her before heading to the threshold of the castle. He holds his sibling’s sigil with shaking hands, before he finally calls to the one person who could help him.
“Desire,” Dream groans, summoning his sibling. “Something has happened.”
“I know, dear brother ,” Desire replies, appearing before him. “ My realm is flooded with your dreamers day and night. Why haven’t you gotten this under control? ”
“I don’t know how!” Dream yells, frustrated and burning with what he now recognizes as an intense sexual frustration.
“Are you an idiot?” Desire asks. “Lucifer cursed you when you fought them in my realm. They’ve taken your long suppressed desires and unleashed them. Gods, I can smell your desperation, have you really not gotten laid since Calliope?”
“Desire,” Dream growls in warning.
“Oooh, big scary brother,” Desire replies, rolling their eyes. “Anyways, now that you know what the problem is, go have your way in some dreamer's tentacle fantasy or something.”
“I will not take advantage of the dreamers,” Dream huffs. It is one thing for him to take items and food from their dreams, it is another thing entirely to invade their most private fantasies. It is a line he will not cross.
“You may not have a choice, dear brother,” Desire replies solemnly. “There is a heat inside of you, and if you cannot extinguish it, our realms will collide and not in a good way.” And with that, his sibling is gone, with no more advice on how Dream can deal with this curse.
Of course Dream would end up with more trouble than he could afford just for choosing to be the better sibling for once. He tries not to let the bitterness get to him. It is, unfortunately, not too difficult a task, for as soon as Desire is gone, the burning under his skin returns tenfold, almost as if it were chasing after its master.
Dream considers his options, then begrudgingly clothes himself and makes his way to the outside of the castle. The outside is unbearably warm, which does not surprise him. He lets his mind wander to the dreams of those currently residing in his realm, and it is not long before he finds a dreamer who is imagining making love to their partner.
The dream is sweet, cloyingly so, and Dream finds he does not care for the setting nor the mood of the dream. He moves to a different dreamer, who is more passionate in his endeavors, but the subject of his passions being an animated horse meant for children does nothing to stimulate Dream. A third dreamer imagines herself a heroine in a popular romance novel, and Dream finds himself more preoccupied with the dream’s draperies than the activities between the amorous couple.
On and on it goes. Dream moves from dream to dream, observing sexual fantasy after sexual fantasy, but none stir him, not to watch, nor participate. Not even the tentacle ones.
After three days of unsuccessful dreams, and to prevent his condition from further affecting the Dreaming, Dream carves a hidden space for himself cut off from the rest of the realm. Here he crafts both dream and nightmare alike to help soothe the ache within his body. Dream replicates images of old lovers, replays old memories, acts out what-if scenarios over and over, to no avail. No matter how many times he achieves release from these fantasies it is never enough. He is still empty, too hot, too unfulfilled.
He wonders if perhaps Lucifer’s goal was to force Dream to crawl to them, to beg for sexual release at their hand. Dream knows Lucifer is a lustful creature, sometimes violently so, and the traded barbs between them even recently had contained barely veiled innuendo. But Dream feels sick at the idea of going to Lucifer now. He would rather perish than consider being at the complete mercy of the Morningstar.
Perhaps it is no surprise then, that Dream eventually finds himself staring into all too familiar brown eyes. Eyes that have only ever looked at him warmly and never with sexual intent.
Dream feels guilty conjuring the image of Hob Gadling here, but Hob has been kind to him these past centuries, perhaps more kind than Dream deserved. He is still kind to him even now, meeting Dream with increasing frequency both in the Waking and within the Dreaming, simply for the pleasure of Dream’s company.
And oh, how gently Hob would treat him. Dream imagines the immortal holding him gently, whispering long forgotten words of affection into his ear. He imagines Hob would take care to learn his body, to ensure Dream’s pleasure during their relations. He would not think less of Dream for asking for his help, it would be freely offered instead if he knew of Dream’s predicament.
Before he realizes it, all of the dreams and nightmares he’s conjured come to resemble Hob in some way. Dream makes his way through each copy, trying and failing to fully replicate the essence of his friend. Some have too little facial hair, others too much. Another does not have the right shade of brown in his eyes, and yet another feels too tall. Dream is not sure why he cannot perfectly replicate Hob Gadling, and his frustration mounts with each failed copy until-
“Dream?"
Dream’s head snaps up suddenly, and the copy he had been straddling just moments before suddenly disappears into a cloud of black smoke.
“Hob?” Dream whispers, horrified. Has he been wishing for Hob’s company so fervently that he summoned the actual man to the Dreaming? To this place none should be able to access?
It seems impossible, and yet here Hob Gadling is, dressed in nothing more but a loose white shirt and joggers. He is a vision, and Dream wants. Wants to card his fingers through the man's sleep mussed hair, wants to run his tongue along Hob's neck, where he can clearly see the other man's pulse jumping wildly as he takes in the scene around him.
Yet for how much he wants, Dream finds he cannot move. He cannot do anything except sit there, on the ground, dumbfounded that his immortal friend has somehow traversed the entire Dreaming and found him.
They stare at each other for what feels like an eon. Hob appears conflicted as he looks down at Dream, but then his expression suddenly clears and the man seems to make a decision. He walks a few paces to close the distance between them and then kneels down, putting himself directly in Dream's eyeline.
“What’s going on?" Hob asks, softly, kindly. The gentleness of his tone makes Dream want to cry. "And…not to make things even more awkward, but uh…was that," Hob gestures awkwardly to the remains of his doppelganger, "supposed to be me?"
The flush on Hob’s face is clearly from embarrassment, but Dream can also feel a pulsing heat in the energy between them. It may be the influence of the realm, or the curse, but Dream swears Hob is looking at him as if starved.
Perhaps, Dream thinks, he is not the only one who is wanting.
“I have…I have found myself in some trouble, Hob," Dream finally admits, then groans as the yearning returns in full force, his body no longer overcome with embarrassment.
“Some trouble,” Hob repeats disbelievingly. “What kind of trouble would lead to all this?”
“I have been cursed,” Dream replies, and he leans back to show Hob the mark on his flank. He does not miss the way Hob initially tries to avert his eyes.
“Shit,” Hob breathes, when he finally glimpses the wound Lucifer left on him. “That looks painful.”
Hob moves as if to touch the scar, then thinks better of it and drops his hand. Dream barely restrains himself from grabbing the hand and having it touch him anywhere else on his body.
“It is not,” Dream says. “But it has greatly inconvenienced me. I have been left…wanting.”
“Wanting?”
“I am…unable to perform my function,” Dream sighs. “There was a battle. In my sibling’s realm. Desire’s.” He practically spits his sibling’s name.
“Your sibling…is Desire?” Hob asks, bewildered. “Like the personification of desire?”
“Yes,” Dream replies. “Lucifer attempted an invasion on their realm. I was injured in the battle. And now I am consumed by a heat I cannot purge.”
“A heat, you say?” Hob asks. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips and Dream finds himself immensely distracted by the action. When Hob notices him staring, his pupils dilate and Dream finds himself lost in the depths of them. He really could never perfectly replicate how deep Hob’s eyes were.
“And that heat made you…desire me?” Hob continues. “Summon me here?”
“I did not intend to summon you,” Dream says, but even as he says it, he knows, somehow, that he had called for Hob to help him.
“Oh but I think you did,” Hob replies, more bold now. “And I think I know what you need from me.”
It is all the warning Dream receives before Hob wraps a hand around Dream’s neck and pulls him in for a fierce kiss.
Dream's body reacts as if electrocuted. He presses himself immediately to Hob’s body, knocking the man backwards and onto his back. Dream writhes and rubs himself shamelessly against Hob’s body, pawing at the man’s clothes before he wills them away all together. Hob laughs when he realizes he’s fully nude, and Dream groans when their cocks press together, Hob’s just as hard and full as his.
The heat that drives Dream’s body now is different. Where before it was an itch, a nuisance to be quieted, now Dream feels molten, as if he is burning up from the inside like a star in the midst of a supernova.
“Oh you poor, pathetic, needy thing,” Hob coos, nuzzling at Dream’s neck.
Dream whines. He is so hot, everything is so hot and he needs relief now. He presses himself against Hob’s bared chest, feels the scratch of the textured hair beneath his own body and he wants. He has been wanting for days, no weeks at this point.
“How long have you been denying yourself like this?” Hob asks. “Did you even know you needed me this badly before now?”
“I need no one,” Dream insists but the words come out breathy and wanton instead of commanding like he intends.
“Love, if that were the case then your realm wouldn’t be so tied up in Desire’s now would it?” Hob replies. “Remember, it was you who pulled me into the Dreaming, you were the one who called for me. Now tell me pet, tell me exactly what it is you need.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Dream snaps, then groans as Hob’s hands move gently along his sides. It feels good, amazing even, to finally touch Hob like this, but it isn’t enough.
“I want to hear it from you. Explicitly.” Hob says definitively. “We are not moving forward without as much explicit consent as I can get, Dream.”
Dream growls and drives his hips down, eliciting a sweet sound from Hob’s mouth. “I need your cock Hob Gadling. I need you to fuck this cursed heat from Hell out of me.”
“And why does it have to be me again, my friend?” Hob presses, but this time his hand wraps around Dream’s cock, thumbs at the leaking slit. “Of all the beings in the universe, why me?”
“Because ,” Dream exhales, “I trust no one else but you. I want no one else’s hands but yours touching me.”
“See, was that so hard now?” Hob grins, right before he pushes Dream off him and positions the Endless on his hands and knees.
“Ah, ah! ” Dream mewls when he feels a wet heat press up against his rim. Hob’s tongue his mind blearily supplies. He drops from his hands to his elbows, and the slight change in position seems to allow better access for Hob’s tongue.
The tongue probes at his entrance, and with some pressure, eventually breaches the tight ring of muscle. It’s relief and agony all at once. Dream wants more, needs more.
“More,” the Dream King demands.
“Impatient,” Hob huffs, amusement clear in his tone. The warmth of his breath against his hole causes a full body shudder in Dream, and he has to fight to keep himself propped up on his elbows.
“You’re so tight here, you know,” Hob continues, alternating between sucking and licking at his rim. It’s gentle, too gentle , which is not what he needs right now. Dream growls in frustration, and thrusts his hips back against Hob’s mouth, demanding more pressure. Hob groans and then delves his tongue back inside of him, his pace quickened from his earlier attempt. His stubble scrapes at the skin of Dream’s buttocks, and the sensation sends tiny electric shocks throughout his body.
Dream’s vision goes blurry along the edges as Hob’s tongue continues to probe inside him. He had imagined hundreds of scenarios with the immortal just like this, had created no less than a dozen various dreams and nightmares to replicate his likeness, but they all pale in comparison to the real thing. Hob’s fingers at his hips are firmer, meatier than he had thought they would be, and Dream wants them inside of him.
When Hob withdraws his tongue, Dream whines in confusion.
“Hey, hey, it’s all right,” Hob reassures him, patting his side gently. “I just…do you have any lube?”
Dream imagines Hob’s fingers slick with lubricant and moments later the man himself gasps in surprise as his fingers are suddenly covered in it.
“Well that’s handy,” Hob notes, and then, ever so slowly, he presses a single finger inside of Dream.
Dream vibrates at the new sensation, gasping when Hob pushes it deep inside him, as if trying to ascertain the depth of Dream’s inner walls.
“Like that?” Hob pants from behind him. “Do you think you could take another one, love?”
“Yes,” Dream moans, his mouth already watering at the idea.
Hob slowly presses the second finger inside of him, and the pressure in his backside is exquisite. Dream’s hips shake as Hob alternates between scissoring and crooking his fingers inside of Dream, holding Dream’s body steady with his other hand.
It is not long before Dream feels the press of Hob’s fingers against his prostate, and Dream howls as sparks explode behind his eyes.
“Hob, please, ” Dream cries out, abandoning all propriety and pride. “I need you inside me, now. ”
“Not. Yet.” Hob growls, and despite his words, Dream can tell the man is holding onto the last dregs of his patience himself. “You’re still so tight, there’s no way-”
“I am prepared enough,” Dream interrupts. He feels the need to clarify just how prepared he is.
“How many weeks do you think I have tried to relieve this torture, this heat? How many of my own fingers have I placed inside me? Would you like to know the number of times I imagine my fingers were yours? How I conjured the image of you in a thousand dreams, but none were enough to satisfy me?”
“Jesus fuck Dream,” Hob groans, sounding absolutely wrecked. “Warn a man before you break his heart like that.”
“I’m not- ah!” Dream moans loudly as he feels, finally , the press of Hob’s cock against his entrance. The feel of it burns like a comet, like the fires of Hell, but it also feels like coming home. It feels like everything has been righted in the universe with Hob finally pushing himself inside of him and Dream wonders why he stalled for so long to call for him.
Dream moans with each inch that breaches inside him. Hob is so gentle with him, even now, and Dream wants to throw himself backwards and impale himself on Hob’s cock just to see what it would feel like. He wants more, needs more, and he tells Hob so in a series of frenzied pants and moans.
“If you’ve spent so much time sitting on your hands waiting for me, why the hell are you still so damn tight ?” Hob pants when he finally seats himself fully inside.
“Be quiet, and move,” Dream demands, and that’s all it takes for Hob’s hips to snap, and set up a brutal pace fucking into Dream.
Dream howls as Hob’s cock presses relentlessly against his prostate, their hips slapping together with wet obscene noises. Of all the ways he imagined Hob’s cock these past weeks, nothing lives up to the reality of it. The pressure against his insides is sweet like ambrosia, and though he is still hard and full of heat, for the first time, his mind quiets as he focuses solely on taking all the pleasure he can from Hob.
Hob pulls out and Dream growls at the interruption, but it isn’t long before he’s flipped onto his back. Hob throws Dream’s legs over his shoulders and then slips back into Dream in one quick stroke.
The stretch burns and Dream sobs as Hob thrusts ruthlessly into him, angling his cock to wring as much pleasure as possible from Dream's body.
“Hey, hey look at me,” Hob says, placing a hand on Dream’s cheek and turning to face him. When Dream’s eyes meet Hobs the immortal steals a kiss and easily slips his tongue into Dream’s wanting mouth.
Dream moans into the kiss, their tongues dancing in rhythm to an unheard waltz. The slide of Hob's tongue against his is enough to make him dizzy.
"God you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you," Hob pants in between thrusts. “You’re so goddamn beautiful you know that?”
“You- ah, ah ,” Dream moans as Hob hits that sweet spot inside him again, “you need not flatter me Hob. It was - hngh, ah , it was I who…forced you into this situation,” Dream barely finishes his sentence, too blissed out on Hob’s cock to form further coherent thoughts.
“Hah, forced,” Hob laughs. “As if I wouldn’t have come if the world wasn’t in danger,” he adds, then kisses Dream again.
“Wh-why would you? ” Dream asks. “Y-you have ah , have never…”
Dream yowls when Hob changes the angle of his thrusts just so, and the last of his thoughts are abandoned entirely.
“When we’re done fucking to save you and your realm, we are going to have a goddamn talk,” Hob says. “You may not believe it now, but I have wanted this for centuries, Dream.”
Dream wonders if he has heard Hob correctly, or if he is simply misinterpreting the man’s words. He does not have long to ponder them, for Hob changes their positions once again, pulling himself off Dream, and then dragging the Endless to sit on his lap.
Dream wastes no time and sinks himself down onto Hob's cock.
"God, you’re so amazing," Hob moans as he thrusts up into Dream. Absolutely perfect for me Dream, my gorgeous, perfect Dream."
Dream doesn't know what he says in reply, but whatever it is causes Hob to speed up their pace, bouncing Dream on his cock like he weighs nothing.
It isn't long before Dream feels his orgasm crest and he gasps when it slams into him, his release making a mess between the two of them. Hob thrusts up into Dream one final time before his own orgasm follows, and Dream sighs happily as he feels Hob’s cock pulse inside him, filling him with his spend.
When he looks down at Hob, Dream feels a possessive purr rise up within him when he sees how he's painted the other man with his come. It's as if he's marked for Dream, and Dream alone.
Hob grins up at him, expression as blissed out as Dream feels. He tugs at Dream's wrist and Dream goes willingly, collapsing into the mess between them. They kiss lazily for a few moments, enjoying the soft bliss that lies between them.
Dream whines unhappily when Hob tries to pull out of him, pressing his hips down to keep him inside.
“Stay,” Dream commands, and Hob snorts.
“As you wish,” Hob replies, nuzzling into Dream’s shoulder. “Did that help?” he asks. “Are you…cured?”
“I…” Dream pauses and feels along his flank. The mark is still there, but it feels…less somehow. Like it is slowly shrinking.
“I think it has helped, ” Dream says, “but the wound from Lucifer remains. I…it may take more than once to fully remove it. I know it is asking a lot -”
“Hush you,” Hob interrupts him, nipping at Dream’s bottom lip. “I already told you, I want this. I want you, Dream. Do you understand what I mean?”
Before Dream can answer, the heat overtakes him once more, and he moans as his body shakes, wanting, needing Hob to move inside of him again.
“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Hob asks, worry clear in his tone. “Is it back already?”
Dream just nods shakily. He can feel his eyes watering as the heat courses through him again. The agony of it is not as pronounced, but he still needs to be filled once more.
“Shh, I’ve got you, it’s okay, love. I’ll give you what you need,” Hob reassures him. “I’ll give you whatever it takes to make you whole again, Dream.”
Hob kisses him and Dream moans with relief. He can feel the immortal hardening inside him again, and it isn’t long before their hips are moving again in tandem. Hob’s come makes the slide easy, and Dream relishes at the way it spills out of him as Hob moves inside him.
Dream cards his hands through Hob’s thick chest hair, marveling at how his own come has matted it into a sticky mess. He notices some of his spend has landed near Hob’s left nipple and before he can think better of it, Dream dips his head down and begins to lap at it.
“Oh fuck,” Hob gasps, throwing his head back. “Are you, are you tasting yourself off me?”
Dream doesn’t answer, just continues to roll Hob’s nipple in his mouth, marveling at how it pebbles underneath his lips and teeth. He moves a hand to Hob’s other nipple and pinches , curious to see what reaction it elicits.
“Christ, Dream!” Hob yelps. He shoves up almost painfully into Dream, who screams as Hob’s cock hits his oversensitive prostate.
“Shit, did I hurt you?” Hob asks, his hands going immediately to cup Dream’s face. Dream shakes his head, trying to keep his eyes from watering.
“Are you sure?” Hob asks again, thumbing at the tears forming at the corner of his eyes. “You just surprised me when you did that, you know. I kind of liked it actually.”
Dream nods and waits for his breathing to return to normal, then presses his forehead to Hob’s.
“I want more of…of that ,” Dream confesses quietly. “You treat me so gently, Hob ,” he adds, brushing their lips together. “ I need more than that…please.”
“Fuck,” Hob breathes. “Anything. Tell me what you want.”
Reluctantly, Dream moves off of Hob and puts himself back on his elbows and knees. He hears Hob make a wounded noise behind him, and Dream sighs as he imagines what a sight he must look like to the other man, legs spread, his hole dripping with come.
Once he is ready, he looks back at Hob, who is bright red and breathing heavily, waiting for Dream’s command.
“Have me like this ,” Dream says, trying to keep his breathing as even as possible. “Only…I want you to grip my hair when you do so. And…be rougher with me. I am…I am not a doll that breaks so easily.”
Before he’s even finished his thought, Hob scrambles over to him and positions his cock at Dream's entrance. Without warning, he slides into Dream in one movement, and Dream howls at the burn the stretch gives him.
“Yes, yes,” Dream moans as Hob snaps his hips forcefully into him. “Just like that.”
Once they find a rhythm, Hob grips Dream’s hair with so much force Dream thinks his neck would have snapped if he were a regular human. It thrills him to know that Hob has taken his words to heart, that he is willing to give Dream everything he wants.
One particularly hard yank forces Dream off his elbows and he yowls at the pressure on his scalp. Hob has pressed Dream to his chest, clutching his abdomen with one arm, and Dream wraps an arm around the other man’s neck to steady himself as Hob continues to thrust into him.
“When you imagined me holding you,” Hob whispers into his ear, “did I touch you like this?”
Suddenly, Hob’s free hand finds its way to Dream’s nipple, and he alternates between the two of them, pinching and rubbing vigorously until Dream is mewling incoherently, his cheeks flushed and tear stained. He does not know how Hob is able to both tease and fuck him at the same time, but he thinks he would like to know what other ways Hob is talented in multitasking.
Dream’s second orgasm hits him like a freight train, and he cries out as his come splashes against his chest and neck, a small amount even managing to land on his chin. Hob growls behind him and as he licks the few drops of come off Dream’s chin, Dream feels Hob bury his orgasm inside him.
Dream feels full, so full now that Hob has come inside him a second time. Still, he knows the mark from Lucifer is still there, pulsing and demanding, so when Hob releases him, Dream lays on his back and spreads himself open with no shame.
“Again,” he demands.
Hob goes to him without question.
Time passes oddly in the Dreaming when compared to the Waking World, more so in this small realm he has carved for himself and Hob. He does not know if Hob fucks him for hours, or days , and Dream finds he does not care. He takes and takes what is freely offered to him, and Hob’s enthusiasm is blessedly not restricted here by the limitations of a human body’s stamina.
Dream does not know how long it takes, but he knows immediately once the fever breaks, and the curse is ripped from his body. He screams in agony, and Hob knows immediately something is amiss. Dream pushes Hob off of him and clutches at his side, feeling the brand burn so hot Dream feels as if his own flesh may burn up with it.
Then suddenly, it is gone, and Dream feels emptied out, as if someone had taken a spoon and carved out his essence and left nothing behind.
Then, the shame comes pouring into him.
Dream stares down at himself, at his debauched self, sweat and come painted on every inch of skin. He feels used, no, he feels worse than that when he looks at Hob, who is in an equally debauched state, and staring at him, concern written all over his face.
Dream is unworthy of Hob's concern. He is unworthy of Hob's friendship after all he has put the other man through. He stole Hob from his very bed, brought him here and for what?
Dream wants to vomit as he remembers all the things he forced Hob to endure for his pleasure. A pleasure he could not even fully control because he was too stupid. Too stupid to know when Lucifer had cursed him, too stupid to know how to solve his problems on his own, too stupid to know to send Hob away instead of taking advantage of his friend's kindness.
"Dream?" Hob's voice echoes in the quiet of the room "Hey Dream, what's wrong?" Hob moves to reach for him but Dream shoves himself away from the immortal.
"Stay away !" Dream yells clutching at himself. "Do not come closer."
"Dream," Hob says, hurt clearly in his voice. "Talk to me, please. The curse, we broke it right? You're…you're fine now, right?"
"Yes ," Dream answers. "The curse is lifted. I…I am ashamed at what I have done to you, Hob."
"Wait what?" Hob exclaims, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"Everything that happened here ," Dream says, gesturing between them, "was my fault. I should not have summoned you. I should not have taken advantage-"
"Bullshit," Hob says and Dream gasps in surprise as Hob suddenly appears next to him and grasps his face with both hands.
"You. Did not. Take. Advantage. Of me," Hob says slowly, emphasizing each word. "Everything we did, I fully consented to, not because I felt bad, not because I felt like I had no choice, but because. I. Wanted. To."
Dream searches for any sort of lie, some falsehood in Hob's expression, and finds none. He only finds concern, worry and…
Oh.
"I love you Dream," Hob says. "I…I know it’s probably unexpected, and probably the last thing you need to hear after everything that's just happened but I do love you. And that's why you can't have taken advantage of me. Because I would do it again and again, with or without some stupid fucking curse."
Dream stares at Hob, struck dumb by his confession. He thinks he should feel even more wretched now, knowing how Hob feels about him, but instead the words light a new fire underneath him, one different form the curse Lucifer placed upon him.
This fire does not burn like it wants to consume him whole, instead it kindles, like a fire in a hearth, comforting and reassuring in its steadfastness. It is the sort of fire Dream knows he has been missing from his soul for an age, and now he has the chance to grasp it, if only his mouth could form the words to accept it.
"Dream," Hob pleads. "Say something, please."
But before he can respond, there is a tug at Dream's chest. It feels like something is coming apart inside of him, like his focus has suddenly been splintered in a dozen different directions, and yet he is unable to focus on a single thought.
His realm is cracking, he realizes with horror. It had been more tied to Desire's than he originally thought, and now that the curse is lifted, The Dreaming is trying to revert itself back to its original state. Only, it has no idea how, and now the realm is highly volatile and unstable.
Which means his subjects are in danger.
Hob is in danger.
Dream suddenly realizes what he needs to do. He cannot keep Hob here and keep him safe. He cannot afford to divert even an iota of his attention away from saving the Dreaming from its impending peril.
Dream steps back from Hob and feels his own heart splintering as he speaks a phrase he has uttered an untold number of times in his long existence. It is perhaps a bit cruel to utter it now, but he has no choice.
“This dream is over."
Hob wakes alone in his bed.
“Fuck,” he whispers to the empty room, and when he pulls his hands from his eyes he notices they're wet with tears. He hadn't even known he was crying.