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The living room was dim, only the glow of the TV and the blue light from Dream’s monitor lighting the space. Empty soda cans and half-eaten bags of chips littered the coffee table. Sapnap had gone to bed hours ago, leaving just the two of them sprawled on the oversized couch, controllers loose in their hands after another long Minecraft session.
George was fidgeting.
He kept shifting his legs, tugging at the sleeves of his oversized black hoodie, glancing sideways at Dream every few seconds. Dream noticed—of course he noticed. He always noticed when George got like this. The British boy was usually all sharp tongue and smug little smirks, but right now he looked like he was working up the courage to confess to a crime.
Dream paused the game and turned toward him.
“Alright, spit it out,” Dream said, voice low and amused. “You’ve been weird for the last twenty minutes. What’s up?”
George’s cheeks went pink almost instantly. He huffed, crossing his arms like that would hide the flush.
“I’m not being weird.”
“You’re being extremely weird. You died to a zombie like four times in a row and didn’t even rage about it. Something’s wrong.”
George groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He sat up straighter, knees pulled to his chest, and stared very intently at the paused screen instead of at Dream.
“Okay. Fine. Hypothetically…” He paused, biting his lip. “If someone—like, if I started dating someone soon… I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself, you know?”
Dream blinked. “Embarrass yourself how?”
George’s voice dropped, barely above a mumble. “You know how.”
Dream waited, fighting back a grin. He could already feel where this was going, and his stomach was doing nervous little flips.
When George stayed silent, Dream nudged his knee with his own. “Use your words, George. I’m not a mind reader.”
George shot him a glare, but it was weak and embarrassed. “Blowjobs, okay? I’ve never… given one. And I don’t want to be bad at it when it actually matters. It would be mortifying.”
Dream’s brain short-circuited for a second. He felt heat crawl up his neck.
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” George rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but Dream’s face.
“So I was thinking… you’ve had experience. You’re my best friend. It’s not like it would be weird if it was just… practice. Right? Just once. So I know what I’m doing and don’t look like a complete idiot the first time I do it for real.”
The silence that followed was loud.
Dream stared at him, mouth slightly open. His heart was hammering so hard he was sure George could hear it. “You… want to practice giving head. On me.”
George nodded, cheeks now a deep red. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Friends help each other with stuff like this. I’d do it for you if you asked.” He paused, then added quickly, “Not that I’m asking for anything back. This is just for me. To not embarrass myself when I start dating.”
Dream let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “When you start dating. Right.” His voice cracked a little on the last word. The idea of George on his knees for anyone else made something ugly twist in his chest, but he shoved it down. “And you want me to just… let you practice. On my dick.”
George buried his face in his hoodie sleeves for a second, then peeked out, eyes big and pleading in that way that always made Dream weak. “Yes. Exactly. It’s not gay or anything for you if it’s practice. It’s like… training. Like when you helped me with that parkour course in Minecraft so I wouldn’t suck in front of everyone.”
Dream snorted despite himself. “This is nothing like Minecraft parkour, George.”
“It’s exactly like that!” George insisted, sitting up on his knees now, gaining momentum in his ridiculous logic. “You teach me the mechanics, I get confident, and then when I have a real… partner… I won’t die of shame. Come on, Dream. Please? I trust you. You’re the only person I’d even consider asking.”
Dream’s throat felt tight. He was already half-hard just from the mental image of George between his legs, looking up at him with those same wide eyes. The fact that George was using “practice” as an excuse while staring at him like that made it ten times worse.
He swallowed hard. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.” George’s voice softened a little, the edge fading into something almost shy. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But… I don’t want to mess it up with someone important. And you’re… you’re safe. You won’t laugh at me if I’m bad.”
Dream’s chest ached at that. He reached out without thinking, tugging one of George’s sleeves down so he could see his face properly. “I’d never laugh at you for that. Not really.”
George’s lips twitched into a small, hopeful smile. “So… is that a yes?”
Dream exhaled slowly, trying to play it cool even though his pulse was racing. He leaned back against the couch cushions, spreading his legs just a fraction. “You’re really gonna make me say it out loud?”
“Yes,” George said, scooting closer. “I need verbal consent, Dream. This is important practice.”
Dream laughed again, the sound shaky and fond. “Fine. Yes. You can… practice. On me. Just this once. For your future dating life or whatever.”
George’s whole face lit up, equal parts relief and nervous excitement. “Okay. Good. Great. Should we… go to your room? The couch feels too exposed with Sapnap upstairs.”
Dream nodded, already standing up on slightly unsteady legs. He offered George a hand and pulled him up, their fingers lingering together a second longer than necessary.
As they headed down the hallway toward Dream’s room, George bumped their shoulders together.
“You’re the best, you know that?”
Dream glanced down at him, heart stupidly full. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t choke too hard on your first try, idiot.”
George shoved him lightly, laughing. “Shut up. I’m going to be amazing. You’ll see.”
Dream didn’t doubt it for a second.
They stepped into Dream’s room and the door clicked shut behind them with a soft finality that made George’s stomach flip. The lamp on the nightstand was already on, casting a warm, low glow over the unmade bed and the familiar mess of hoodies and empty water bottles.
Dream turned to face him, arms crossed, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. The one that always meant trouble.
“So,” Dream drawled, voice low and teasing, “you really want to get on your knees for me just so you don’t embarrass yourself with some random guy later? That’s adorable.”
George’s face burned. He shoved Dream’s shoulder, but there was no real force behind it. “Shut up. It’s practical.”
“Practical,” Dream echoed, stepping closer until George had to tilt his head back a little to meet his eyes. “You’re telling me this is purely educational. No other reason.”
“Yes,” George insisted, even as his voice wavered. “Purely educational. For science. Like a… a tutorial.”
Dream hummed, clearly enjoying himself. He reached out and flicked the hood of George’s oversized sweatshirt. “And what if I’m a bad teacher? What if you still suck—pun intended—and then you go embarrass yourself anyway?”
George narrowed his eyes, the fiery spark flaring up despite the nervous flutter in his chest. “Then maybe I should just go ask Sapnap instead. He’d probably be less annoying about it.”
The words had barely left his mouth before Dream’s expression shifted. The teasing smirk dropped instantly, replaced by something sharper, more possessive. His hand shot out and caught George’s wrist, fingers wrapping around it firmly but not roughly.
“Absolutely not,” Dream said, voice suddenly low and serious, the words coming out almost like a growl. “You are not asking Sapnap. Not for this. Not ever.”
George blinked, surprised by the intensity. A tiny, stupid thrill ran through him at the way Dream’s grip tightened just a fraction. “Why not? You said it yourself—it’s just practice.”
“Because it’s not just practice if it’s with him,” Dream muttered, stepping even closer until their chests were nearly brushing. His free hand came up to cup George’s jaw, thumb brushing lightly over his cheek. The touch was gentle, but his eyes were dark and focused. “If anyone’s helping you with this, it’s me. Only me. Got it?”
George’s heart stuttered. He tried to play it cool, but his breath hitched anyway. “Possessive much?”
“Call it whatever you want,” Dream replied, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched. His voice dropped even lower, warm against George’s skin. “But you’re staying right here. With me.”
For a second they just stood there, breathing the same air, the air between them thick with anticipation and something softer, warmer. George swallowed, then gave a tiny nod.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Only you.”
Dream’s shoulders relaxed. The corner of his mouth twitched back into a small, fond smile. “Good boy.”
The praise slipped out so casually that George’s knees nearly buckled. He shoved Dream again, this time with a shaky laugh. “Don’t say shit like that or I’m going to die before I even start.”
Dream chuckled, the sound low and affectionate. He let go of George’s wrist only to take his hand instead, lacing their fingers together as he walked them backward toward the bed.
“Come on, then,” Dream said softly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress and gently tugging George closer. “Let’s get you some practice. This is practice, right?”
George rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he sank to his knees between Dream’s spread legs. The carpet was soft under his knees. His hands trembled just a little as he reached for the waistband of Dream’s sweatpants.
“Right,” George murmured, voice barely above a whisper, eyes flicking up to meet Dream’s. “Purely instructional.”
Dream’s hand came down to card gently through George’s hair, thumb stroking along his temple in a soothing rhythm. His voice was warm, encouraging, and just a touch shaky with nerves of his own.
“Whenever you’re ready, George. No rush. I’ve got you.”
George took a deep breath, heart racing, and slowly tugged Dream’s pants and boxers down just enough.
George’s heart was hammering so loudly he was sure Dream could hear it. He stared at the sight in front of him. Dream was already half-hard, cock resting against his stomach, flushed and twitching slightly under George’s gaze. The sight made George’s mouth water in a way that felt embarrassingly eager for something that was supposed to be “just practice.”
He licked his lips again, hands resting lightly on Dream’s thighs. “Okay… so… where do I start? Tip? Or do I just… go for it?”
Dream let out a shaky breath, his fingers still gently carding through George’s hair. The touch was grounding, soothing the nervous flutter in George’s chest. “Start wherever feels natural. No pressure. If you want to lick first, lick. If you want to take me in your mouth, do that. Just… go slow. And if anything feels weird or you need to stop, tell me.”
George nodded, cheeks burning. He leaned in closer, breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. Dream twitched at the warmth. “Tell me if I do something stupid,” George mumbled.
“You won’t,” Dream promised, voice already a little rougher. “You’re already doing great.”
George rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. He pressed a tentative kiss to the head, soft and experimental. Dream’s hips jerked slightly and he let out a quiet, surprised sound.
“Fuck—sorry,” Dream laughed breathlessly. “That just… felt good.”
Encouraged, George licked a slow stripe from base to tip, tasting the faint saltiness. Dream’s hand tightened gently in his hair, not pushing, just holding. George did it again, firmer this time, swirling his tongue around the head the way he’d vaguely imagined.
“Like that?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look up.
Dream’s eyes were dark, pupils blown, but his smile was soft and fond. “Yeah. Exactly like that. You’re a natural, George.”
“Shut up,” George muttered, but the praise made warmth bloom in his chest and lower. He took the head into his mouth properly this time, lips wrapping around it, sucking lightly.
Dream groaned, head tipping back for a second before he forced himself to look down again. “Oh my god… that’s—fuck, that feels good.”
George hummed around him, the vibration pulling another low sound from Dream. He took a little more, cheeks hollowing, trying to remember everything he’d ever heard or read. His rhythm was clumsy at first—too much teeth on one pass.
Dream hissed sharply, then immediately softened it with a laugh. “Teeth—careful, baby—ah, there, yeah, better.”
George pulled off with a wet pop, eyes wide and apologetic. “Shit, sorry—”
“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Dream said quickly, cupping George’s cheek with his free hand. His thumb brushed over George’s lower lip, wiping away a trace of spit. “First time. It’s fine. You’re doing so good. Just relax your jaw a little.”
George nodded, leaning into the touch for a second before diving back in. This time he was more careful, taking Dream deeper, tongue pressing flat against the underside. Dream’s thighs tensed under his palms, and the sounds he made—soft, breathy moans and quiet curses—went straight to George’s own cock, which was straining painfully against his sweatpants.
He bobbed his head experimentally, finding a rhythm that made Dream’s breathing stutter. Saliva was already dripping down his chin, but he didn’t care. Every little encouraging word from Dream made him want to do better.
“George… fuck, your mouth—” Dream’s voice cracked. “You’re so warm. So good for me.”
George whimpered around him at the praise, the sound muffled. He tried to take more and immediately gagged, eyes watering as he pulled back coughing.
Dream sat up straighter, concern flashing across his face. “Hey, hey—breathe. You okay?”
George nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, laughing shakily. “Yeah. Just… ambitious.”
Dream chuckled, the sound warm and affectionate. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to George’s forehead, then another to the corner of his eye where a tear had gathered. “You don’t have to take it all. Just what feels comfortable. I’m already losing my mind here.”
George looked up at him, lips swollen and shiny, eyes glassy. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Dream breathed, thumb stroking his cheek again. “You’re perfect. Keep going if you want. Or we can stop—”
“No,” George said quickly, voice hoarse. “I want to. I’m not stopping until you come.”
Dream’s eyes darkened at that. “Fuck. Okay. Then come here.”
George leaned back in, more confident now. He took Dream back into his mouth, sucking with purpose, one hand wrapping around the base to stroke what he couldn’t fit. Dream’s hips twitched, but he kept them still, letting George set the pace.
The room filled with wet sounds and Dream’s increasingly broken moans. “George—shit, I’m close—"
George didn’t pull off. He doubled down, hollowing his cheeks, looking up through his lashes at Dream’s flushed face and parted lips.
“George—fuck, I’m gonna—”
Dream came with a choked groan, hips jerking once before he forced himself still. Warm pulses filled George’s mouth and he swallowed as best he could, some of it spilling past his lips. He kept sucking gently through it until Dream was trembling and oversensitive, gently tugging him off with a shaky laugh.
“Jesus Christ,” Dream panted, pulling George up onto the bed and into his lap in one smooth motion. He cupped George’s face with both hands, thumbs wiping away the mess on his chin and lower lip. “You okay? That was… insane. You were amazing.”
George hid his burning face in Dream’s neck, still catching his breath, body buzzing. “Told you I’d be good at it.”
Dream laughed softly, arms wrapping tight around him, one hand rubbing slow circles on his back. He pressed kisses into George’s hair, his temple, the shell of his ear. “You were more than good. You ruined me.”
George smiled against his skin, heart stupidly full. He could feel Dream’s heartbeat racing against his own chest.
After a moment, Dream’s hand slid down to George’s hip, squeezing gently. His voice dropped into something warm and teasing again.
“My turn now?”
George pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes wide. “What?”
“You practiced giving,” Dream said, green eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Now you should practice receiving. So you don’t come right away when someone does it to you. Wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself, right?”
George’s face went scarlet. “That’s the dumbest logic I’ve ever heard.”
Dream grinned, flipping them gently so George was on his back, caged under him. “It’s exactly as dumb as your original idea. Fair is fair, George.”
George opened his mouth to protest, but Dream was already kissing down his neck, hands slipping under his hoodie, and all that came out was a shaky little breath.
“Fine,” he whispered, fingers threading into Dream’s hair. “But only for practice.”
Dream hummed against his stomach, smiling. “Only for practice.”
George's heart was racing as Dream hovered over him, green eyes dark and fond. The hoodie George was still wearing had ridden up, exposing a strip of pale skin that Dream immediately leaned down to kiss.
“Dream—” George’s voice came out breathier than he intended. He squirmed a little, hands fidgeting with the hem of his own sweatpants. “This was a stupid idea. I don’t need practice receiving. I can just… handle it.”
Dream hummed against his stomach, the vibration making George’s muscles twitch. “You said the exact same thing about giving, and look how well that turned out.” He nipped lightly at the skin just above George’s waistband, then soothed it with his tongue. “Besides, I know you're already hard.”
George groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” Dream’s fingers hooked into George’s sweatpants and boxers, tugging them down slowly. George lifted his hips to help without thinking, then immediately regretted how eager it looked. His cock sprang free, stupidly hard and leaking against his stomach. Dream’s gaze dropped to it, and his expression softened into something almost reverent.
“Fuck, George,” Dream murmured, voice low and rough. “Look at you. So pretty.”
“Shut up,” George whined, trying to close his legs, but Dream gently pushed them apart again, settling between them.
“No hiding. This is training, remember?” Dream leaned down and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of George’s thigh, then another higher up. “We’re making sure you don’t come the second someone touches you. Very important life skill.”
George let out a shaky laugh that turned into a gasp when Dream’s breath ghosted over his cock. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Maybe.” Dream wrapped one hand loosely around the base, giving one slow stroke. George’s hips jerked up involuntarily. “But I’m also very dedicated to your future dating success.”
The reminder of “future dating” made something twist in Dream’s chest, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the way George was already falling apart under the lightest touch.
He leaned in and licked a long, slow stripe from base to tip, savoring the taste. George made a broken little sound, one hand flying down to grip Dream’s hair.
“Dream—oh my god—”
Dream did it again, then swirled his tongue around the head, collecting the bead of precome with a quiet hum. “Tastes good,” he murmured, almost to himself.
George’s face burned. “Don’t say shit like that—”
“Why not? It’s true.” Dream took the head into his mouth properly, sucking gently while his hand stroked the rest in a slow, steady rhythm. George’s thighs trembled on either side of him, and the sounds he made—soft, high-pitched whimpers and breathy moans—were the cutest thing Dream had ever heard.
He pulled off for a second to look up. “You’re so sensitive already, huh? We might need a lot of practice.”
“Fuck you,” George gasped, but there was no heat in it. His fingers tightened in Dream’s hair, not pushing, just holding on.
Dream grinned and went back down, taking more this time, hollowing his cheeks. He bobbed his head slowly, tongue pressing against the underside, listening to every little stutter in George’s breathing. George lasted maybe thirty seconds before his whole body tensed.
“Dream—wait—fuck, I’m gonna—”
He came with a choked cry, hips twitching as he spilled into Dream’s mouth. Dream swallowed around him, humming softly, milking every last pulse until George was whimpering from oversensitivity.
When Dream finally pulled off, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled up George’s body, pressing gentle kisses along the way—hip, stomach, chest, collarbone—until he reached George’s flushed face.
George had his eyes squeezed shut, one arm thrown over his face. “That was so embarrassing,” he mumbled. “I can't believe I came right away.”
Dream laughed softly, prying George’s arm away so he could see those big brown eyes, glassy and shy. “Hey. None of that. That was the hottest thing ever.” He kissed George’s forehead, then the tip of his nose. “And like I said… good thing we’re practicing. We can do it again until you last longer.”
George peeked up at him, lips twitching despite the embarrassment. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” Dream replied without thinking, then froze for half a second. George’s eyes widened a fraction, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he reached up and tugged Dream down into a clumsy, desperate kiss.
It was their first real kiss—messy, tasting like each other, full of pent-up affection. When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Dream rested his forehead against George’s.
“Again?” Dream whispered, voice hoarse.
George nodded, cheeks still pink but eyes sparkling with that familiar bratty determination. “Yeah. Practice round two. Don’t let me come so fast this time, teacher.”
Dream grinned, already sliding back down George’s body. “Whatever you need, baby. I’m very dedicated.”
He took his time the second round—slow, teasing licks, gentle suction, one hand holding George’s hip down so he couldn’t thrust too eagerly. Every time George got close, Dream pulled back just enough to kiss his thighs or stomach, murmuring soft praise.
“You’re doing so good… breathe… relax for me…”
George squirmed and whined, fingers twisted in the sheets, but he listened. By the time Dream finally let him tip over the edge again, George lasted almost twice as long, coming with Dream’s name on his lips in a broken moan.
Afterward, Dream pulled him close under the blankets, both of them sticky and warm and laughing breathlessly at nothing and everything.
George tucked his face into Dream’s neck, one leg thrown over Dream’s hip. “This was… really good practice.”
Dream hugged him tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Mhm. We should probably do a few more sessions. Just to be thorough.”
George smiled against his skin. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want me embarrassing myself with anyone else.”
Dream’s arms tightened possessively. “Exactly. Only practice with me.”
George didn’t argue. He just snuggled closer, heart full and stupidly happy, both of them pretending the “practice” excuse still made any sense at all.
They stayed tangled under Dream’s blankets for a long time, breathing slowly evening out. The room smelled like sweat and faint laundry detergent and something that was just them. George’s leg was still hooked over Dream’s hip, one arm slung across his chest like he was afraid Dream might disappear if he let go. Dream’s fingers traced lazy circles on George’s back, dipping under the hem of his hoodie every few passes.
George broke the quiet first, voice muffled against Dream’s collarbone. “So… that was a lot of practice.”
Dream huffed a laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Yeah. Lots of hands-on training. Or mouth-on training.” He tilted his head to press a kiss into George’s messy hair. “How do you feel? Still worried about embarrassing yourself on your first real date?”
George was quiet for a second. Then he poked Dream’s side. “Shut up. You know I’m not actually planning on dating anyone right now.”
Dream’s hand paused on his back. “No?”
“No.” George lifted his head just enough to look at him. His cheeks were still flushed, hair sticking up in every direction, but his eyes were soft. “Why would I go through all that trouble when my best friend is such a dedicated teacher?”
Dream’s heart did a stupid little flip. He tried to play it cool, but the grin that spread across his face was too big to hide. “Oh? So you’re saying you need more lessons?”
“Obviously.” George nodded solemnly, like they were discussing Minecraft strategy instead of the fact that they’d just traded orgasms a ridiculous amount of times. “We should probably schedule regular practice sessions. Consistency is key. Otherwise I’ll forget everything by next week.”
Dream laughed, bright and fond, rolling them so George was half-draped over his chest. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” George shot back, echoing Dream’s earlier slip without even realizing it. He rested his chin on Dream’s sternum, looking up at him with that familiar smug little smirk that always made Dream weak. “And you’re mine. Only mine for practice. No sharing with Sapnap or anyone else.”
Dream’s arms tightened around him instantly. “Absolutely not. Sapnap doesn’t get to know about this. Ever.”
“Good.” George leaned up and kissed the underside of Dream’s jaw, soft and quick, then hid his face again like he hadn’t just done something ridiculously affectionate. “Because I only trust you with my… educational needs.”
Dream’s chest felt too full. He cupped the back of George’s head, threading his fingers through soft brown hair. “Hey, George?”
“Hm?”
“You know this stopped being just practice somewhere around the second time I had my mouth on you, right?”
George went still for half a second, then let out a tiny, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah. I know.” He tilted his head so his cheek pressed against Dream’s heartbeat. “But we can keep calling it practice if it makes you feel better about how gone you are for me.”
Dream snorted, gently tugging George’s hair in retaliation. “Bold words from the guy who came in under thirty seconds the first time.”
“Rude.” George propped himself up on his elbows, grinning down at Dream with sparkling eyes. “At least I warned you. You just moaned my name like a dying man and tried to act normal afterward.”
“I was very normal,” Dream protested, but he was laughing too. He reached up to brush a strand of hair off George’s forehead, letting his thumb linger on his temple. “Seriously though… I liked this. A lot. More than I thought I would.”
George’s expression softened. He leaned down and kissed Dream properly—slow, sweet, a little clumsy from tiredness. When he pulled back, his voice was quieter. “Me too. I didn’t ask just because of the excuse. I asked because it was you.”
Dream’s heart stuttered. He pulled George back down, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “Good. Because I don’t want you practicing with anyone else. Ever.”
“Possessive,” George teased, but he snuggled closer, tucking his cold nose into Dream’s neck.
“Very,” Dream admitted easily. “Only me. Only us.”
They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the occasional giggle bubbling up when one of them remembered a particularly embarrassing sound the other had made. George’s fingers traced idle patterns on Dream’s chest while Dream kept rubbing his back in slow, soothing strokes.
Eventually George yawned, eyes drifting shut. “We should probably shower. And change the sheets. And maybe never tell anyone about this.”
“Agreed on all counts,” Dream murmured. “But tomorrow morning… more practice? For retention?”
George smiled against his skin. “Obviously. Can’t have me forgetting my training.”
Dream kissed the top of his head one more time. “Love you, idiot.”
The words slipped out so naturally that neither of them tensed. George just squeezed him tighter, voice sleepy and warm.
“Love you too, dumbass. Now shut up and let me sleep. Practice starts early tomorrow.”
Dream chuckled softly, reaching over to click off the lamp. In the dark, with George warm and heavy and perfect in his arms, the ridiculous “practice” excuse felt like the best decision they’d ever made.
They fell asleep tangled together, smiling like the lovesick idiots they were—already planning their next “lesson” before the first one had even fully ended.