Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ink scratches at his chin. He looks down at the stack of papers in his hand. He looks back up at Dream.

"So," he says, unsure of what else he could possibly say. He has the dictionary memorized front to back: Sure. But, still, Ink finds himself at a loss for words. He gives the papers a good wave for emphasis. Yep. They still exist, solid. In all their glory

Dream looks like he's pleading for a hole to open up beneath him and whisk him away. He cowers.

"So," Dream repeats. He meets Ink's gaze but quickly snaps his head away, face burning bright golden.

The air is thick and silent, in Dream's room.

Ink peers back down at the papers. Dream's loose, scrawling handwriting stares back up at him: almost begging him to indulge and finish the tale they had woven. Ink shifts from foot to foot. He squeezes his eye sockets shut. He takes a breath. Come on, cyan, Ink thinks. Don't fail him now. Please don't fail him now.

A snort escapes him. Well, he tried. He can hear Dream's audible shuffle- Ink doesn't have to open his eye sockets to know he's crossed his arms, holding himself in a meek attempt at comfort. Dejected.

Ink opens them anyway. And, there Dream is, folding in on himself: tears pooled at the edges of his eye sockets.

Stars. Can Ink be anything but an asshole?

Ink takes a step forward. He schools his features into neutrality as he says, "It's... nice?" It is. Any creative work is a gift. Sure, it... objectively, could use a bit of fine tuning. But, the passion was there. That is all that matters.

Dream turns even further. He sighs, grip iron tight across his chest. "I was intoxicated-"

"Drunk," Ink corrects. Dream rolls his eye-lights. "Blue's birthday, right?" Almost a year ago, now. Before he and Dream got together. That night was... well, it was a night to remember. They'd been banned from three separate bars. Blue had thrown a chair through a window. They had all agreed that drinking in celebration should be kept to a minimum, from then on. Ink had went back to the Doodle Sphere that night and dissociated in a pool of his own vomit.

Apparently, Dream had went home and written what should only be called a masterpiece.

Ink waves the papers for emphasis. "This- This is some good stuff! It's... creative!" Inspiring is what Ink does. This is all routine: second nature.

The corner of Dream's mouth twitches. He sneers- at least, he tries to. His features don't exactly allow for a 'sneer', more like... an expression of quiet, contemplative annoyance. "It's not," he breathes out. "It's... embarrassing. Mediocre. A product of my inability to-"

"We should act it out."

Ink shrugs his shoulders, nonchalant.

Dream stares at him.

"What-"

"I said, we should act it out. Roleplay it, make it reality-"

"I heard you," Dream says, honest and dumbfounded. Pure horror has invaded his face. He takes a step forward, almost as if he's prepared to lunge and rip the papers out of Ink's hands. Ink tucks the story against his chest, just to be safe.

It would be fun. It would be so fun.

"I mean," Ink draws a finger across his jaw, feigning a look of deep thought, "It's not like we haven't..." Ink trails off, taking in Dream's fragile state. He needs to be careful here, he shouldn't push too hard. "It's not like we haven't," Ink decides on. "It'll just... spice things up! Be something new."

"Ink," Dream says, a sentence onto itself. He watches as Ink draws himself closer, shifting to allow him into Dream's personal space. Ink looks up at Dream. He flashes him with a smile and, there: Dream has fallen under his spell. The embrace that Dream pulls into his warm, comforting. "...Okay," he finally says. "If you wish."

Ink can't help the giddy laugh that escapes him.

"You'll see just how good your writing is."

-

Ink looks down at Dream's fanfiction, scrawled across the pages in his hand.

It doesn't weigh much. Which is odd, as this story is worth its weight in gold.

Ink hasn't finished it- just read bits and pieces, skimmed. He got through about a page before Dream had walked into his room, seen Ink reading the papers he had found in his desk (... he had been looking for his favorite pen. His favorite pen that Dream had stolen), and actually lunged across the room to stop him. The rest is history.

It had been so worth it: introducing Dream into the world of writing and fanfiction. This was the proof.

... He should familiarize himself, just a bit. He knows what he's supposed to do- generally. But, it's never a bad idea to go over your lines.

Ink begins to read.

-

Hi. My name is Dream (no last name) and I’m a skeleton with bright golden magic. I’m actually a ball of light- you can thank my mother, Nim, for that, but that is beside the point. I’m the leader of the Stars (an evil fighting group located in… none of your business! We fight evil and help the Multiverse. That is all you need to know.) and Guardian of Positivity. My brother, Nightmare, is… complicated. He spreads negativity throughout the Multiverse. So, as you could guess, we fight him pretty often. My close friend and fellow member of the Stars is Blue- he’s an Underswap Sans. However, my best friend is a skeleton named Ink. 

Ink is the prettiest and most handsome skeleton in the Multiverse. He is also a bit of a jerk, but, I can forgive him for that. As, I’ve been in love with him for as long as I can remember. Loving him comes just as easy as breathing at this point.

-

Ink smiles. It's... sweet. He continues

-

Ink is a small skeleton (around 8 inches shorter than me) . That doesn’t mean he’s not strong though! He’s thrown me through a window before (I will NEVER forget that day)- his humerus’ are quite filled out. Ink wears a long brown scarf, crop top, a snow white undershirt, tucked in wood brown overalls that look like hakamas, toeless obsidian socks, and no shoes. He sometimes changes his outfit, but that is what you would find him wearing on a typical day. Oh! I almost forgot to mention- he has a splatter of ink (that’s how he got his name!) across his right (our left) cheek. He also has these cute little sharp fangs that poke out whenever he talks or smiles like they're saying hello. 

“I need you,” Ink whined, one eye-light a hazy cherry blossom pink and the other a deep honey colored circle. 

-

Getting right to the action. Ink can respect that. He knows his first line, at least. He can always refer to the script later.

Ink readies himself. He breathes. He opens the door to Dream's room.

Dream is sitting at his desk, back turned to the door. He's... just sitting. Not doing anything. Probably hyping himself up, if Ink had to take an educated guess. But, he spins around as soon as Ink opens the door.

Ink shuts the door with a click and takes a step forward.

"I need you," Ink says, voice a practiced murmur.

Ink is a skilled actor, okay? He puts his all into his craft. He lets his chest heave, his eye sockets lower in lust. He can feel the sweat forming at the side of his skull: all a part of the plan. He breathes, deep.

Dream stares at him. He looks around, almost unsure. He stands up, carefully moves his chair to the side, and takes a step forward.

"Uh, hi. Ink," he says.

Ink stares.

"That's not your line."

Dream blinks. "Um," he says. He looks around. Unsure. "This is, erm, canon divergent?"

Ink feels pride well up in his chest: apricot orange. He's taught him well. Still, he raises a brow in a look of curiosity.

Dream stands up straight. He adverts his gaze, coughing into his fist. "Um, I mean," he scratches at the back of his skull. "I don't exactly remember all of what I wrote? I was... pretty out of it. You're the one with the script."

Oh.

The script.

That makes... sense. So, Ink walks forward, holding out the papers for the both of them to read. Dream hums, eye-lights beginning to skim.

-

I was caught by surprise when Ink lunged forward and captured his lips with my own with a type of passion that surprised even himself.

I couldn’t help but stumble back. This was impossible- improbable, even! Ink, my best friend, was kissing me? 

Ink caught me as I was about to fall- not stopping the kiss, as he took hold of my body and slammed me back against the wall. His rainbow tongue entered my mouth, soft and sweet. I couldn’t help the moan that ran through my body. I shook. This was… no. I had to stop this. I had to figure out what was going on. This wasn’t like Ink. 

-

Ink passes over the skipped dialogue and, there, the action.

Ink shrugs, watching as Dream nods: agreement.

Kissing Dream feels just like it always does: sweet and comforting. Ink leans into Dream's touch as he trails a hand across his back- steadying. Ink pushes closer, this should be passionate, after all. He swipes his tongue across Dream's. Wait. Should there be tongue, yet? Ink pauses. Ink decides he doesn't care. He places his hands on Dream's waist, ecto already summoned and waiting. And, then...

Dream pushes him away, clearly mimicking a stumble. There's a grin spread wide across his face. Ink bites back a whine, before he realizes this is all going according to plan.

Perfect.

Ink lurches forward, throwing his hands up against Dream's chest. Dream falls back into the wall with a serious smack. But, Dream takes it in stride: he's no stranger to pain- Ink knows that intimately. He's up and ready to meet Ink, when Ink throws himself at Dream with a kiss.

It just feels right when Ink pushes his knee against Dream's groin, feeling how Dream shudders at the pressure. Ink trails kisses down Dream's jaw, ending with a solidly placed bite to the side of Dream's neck. Dream groans, low and deep; Ink hopes he's made a mark. But... wait. Hold on.

"One second," Ink says, pulling away. Dream whines as Ink focuses his attention to the papers still clutched in his hand. Where exactly were they- what was his next line, again?

-

After what felt like an eternity of kissing, we separated. I pushed him back by the shoulders, leaning my head away. I cried, “no, Ink! This is— this isn't you! What’s wrong?”

Ink hung his head low in shameful defeat. He took a step back. 

“My paints…” He finally growled, voice low and deep and hot with passion and desire. He turned his head to the side, averting his gaze. “I…” He trailed off. 

I couldn’t help myself, when I leaned forward and captured him in a warm embrace. He seemed to melt with my touch, tucking his head into my shoulder, fitting like a lost puzzle piece: finally home. 

-

"Oh," Ink says. "We're supposed to stop and then you're supposed to hug me." Ink shrugs.

Dream looks at him: considering, before taking a step forward and pulling Ink into loose hug. Well. Close enough, Ink thinks. He tucks his head into Dream's chest, eye sockets fluttering shut as Dream rubs circles into the back of his skull. He sighs. The touch is warm: golden; Joy. Ink burrows himself even deeper.

After what feels like only seconds, Dream gently pushes him away.

"What's next?" Dream asks. Oh. Right. They're roleplaying. Ink holds out the papers so both he and Dream can refresh themselves.

-

“I took my pink paint, I’m like… a wild animal that needs to be tamed. By you, Sunshine,” He looked up at me with honesty and love. 

I felt a chill of arousal run through my vertebrae. 

“I-I,” I stuttered, completely at a loss for words. “But- Is this… how you truly feel?” 

Ink looked at me with an unreadable emotion: eye-lights both a mirthful yellow.

“ I’ve… wanted you for some time, my sweet Dream. The paint is just… revealing my true desires. Making it impossible to ignore.”

I blinked. 

Ink leaned forward, close enough to where I could feel his hot breath tickling the bones of my cheeks. “I need you to make me yours, Sunshine.” His fists clutched at the fabric of my cape like he was using me as a lifeline. He needed me. 

I needed him just as badly. 

Ink kisses me again; This time I kiss him back. 

-

"Hmmm... some exposition, more concern, a love confession, more kissing..." Ink trails off. And, oh. Ink blinks. His paint- he can fix that real quick. His hands trail over his bandolier, finding his pink vial without any trouble. Muscle memory. He lifts it up, pops the cap off, and pauses.

"You... are aware that my pink vial isn't some lust potion, right, Dreamy?"

Ink is simply curious. He knows Dream has kept close eyes on his paints... had be been wrong? No- he knows Dream knows.

Dream nods his head, gaze averted. Embarrassed. "Yes," he murmurs. "This was- I. Um. I'd been reading a lot of... erm."

"Mating cycles/in heat? Sex pollen?"

Dream, once again, seems to be trying his best to make himself disappear into nothingness. Ink sagely nods.

Ink raises his pink vial to his mouth and drinks.

No, it's not some aphrodisiac- he's read enough fanfiction about himself to know that's a well establish trope. In reality, it's affection, want, desire.

Which... under the right circumstances, can sometimes present itself as lust.

Ink sighs as the paint settles into his system. There. Perfect. Ink looks up to what appears to be a very concerned Dream. He steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Ink's shoulder.

"Um," Dream starts, slow. He guides the vial back down to its holder. "Did you... mean to drink that much?"

Ink tilts his head. Confused. He looks down at the vial and- oh. Well. Huh.

"Yeah... sure," he lies. This should be fun, at least. Hopefully. He can see the edges of his vision blur with cherry blossom pink. He feels a churning in the pit of his rib cage. He sputters, quickly lifting a fist to collect the droplets of ink that had just escaped from his mouth.

"I, uh," he starts. Where were they? Oh, yes. "I want you- I need you," he mumbles, stumbling over his words. He takes a step forward, Dream catches him in his arms. It's gentle, when Dream turns him around and presses him into the wall. Safety. He's safe, here. "Make me..." he trails off, distracted by the knee that is suddenly being pressed against his groin. Payback for earlier. Ink opens his eye sockets- when had he closed them? Nonetheless, he opens them, and is met with a sly grin adorning Dream's face. Ink can't help but chuckle. That bastard.

"Make me yours, Sunshine," he whispers, grinding down into the firm pressure. Ink watches, satisfied, as Dream's composure breaks.

"Hng," Dream says, eloquent. Ink takes a hand and settles it on Dream's hip, pulling him closer. Ink... wasn't lying. He needs Dream. He needs Dream to take his pants off: now.

Dream, unfortunately, pulls away. "Hold on," he says. "What's next?"

Oh. Right.

Ink lifts the pages for them both once more.

-

Ink moans into the kiss: primal and desperate. It feels like I have the weight of the world in my arms: needy and wanting. I kiss back with a fervor I did not know I had inside of me. I take him by the shoulders and spin him around, throwing him against the wall where I had just been. He hits the wall with a thud, and I pause to look at him- was he okay? My question is answered when I take in the sight of him: gorgeous, staring at me like a cat in heat would look at his mate. 

Our mouths meet again. He paws at my cape- clearly trying to undress me. I shrug the fabric off, taking the chance to pull his scarf from his pretty neck. I lap at the bone, tongue hot and needing. He moans at the contact, throwing his skull back against the wall with another thud. I suck and kiss at his vertebrae, enjoying how he ruts into my leg: pressed firmly against his groin. 

There’s no doubting it- he already has his ecto summoned. 

“ D-Dream…” the artist mewls. “Hmmgh… i want you sooo bad… Please… I need you…” He whines.

-

Ink looks up. Huh. It seems they'd already skipped ahead a bit. Dream seems to come the same conclusion- shrugging off his cape. Ink takes off his scarf. There. Up to speed. They read a bit more.

-

I can’t say no to that. I hoist him up, hands firmly under the thick muscular ecto covering the elegant angle of his sexy femurs.

-

Ink barks out a laugh. He can't stop himself.

"Sexy femurs?" He wheezes. "I- Dreamy, really?"

Dream blinks at him. His face has turned a dark shade of honey. He tucks his chin into his shoulder, fighting back a well worn look of embarrassment.

"I... yeah," Dream mumbles. Defeat. He breathes.

Before Ink knows it, he's being lifted up into Dream's arms. Effortless.

Okay. Okay, maybe , that made him feel a sort of way. Ink is going to plead the fifth, here. It's just that Dream is strong, and powerful, and could probably break him clean in half if he wanted to. What an experience, that would be.

Dream gives a firm squeeze to his thighs. Ink whines.

"U h ," Ink says, confident. Dream rolls his eye-lights.

" Where were we?" Dream asks. The words, possibly, just maybe, go straight to Ink's clit.

-

Ink presess heated kiss after heated kis into my neck: pleading. 

I walk over to my mahogany desk. I transfer Ink to one arm, and I use the other to sweep away all the uncaring paperwork, not caring to watch as the paper flys and flutters through the air. 

Ink whines as I put him over the desk with his rib cage flat on the wood, despairing at the loss of contact.. I hushed him softly, leanign in to keep on kissing the sensitive, succulent vertebrae of his neck. 

He moans again, singing the high note of arousal: a prayer, as I move my hands to pull down his brown overalls. “Oh, Sunshine,” he moans, desperate. “P-Please!”

“You’re gorgeous,” I breathe into the kisses I press into his scapula. I trail my hand over the swirling rainbow colors of his ecto. It felt like warm, sweet jello under my touch. Perfection.

-

Ink is kindly going to ignore the 'jello' comment. Dream seems to silently thank him. It's with practiced ease, how Dream carries Ink over to his desk. Ink can't help but swing his legs: giddy. This is new, exciting. Interesting.

Dream pauses as he stands in front of his desk. Ink can feel him breathe, deep, against his neck.

Before Ink knows it, he's being laid down, back flat against hard wood.

Oh, this is a sight to remember, Ink thinks: taking in a looming Dream, pants tented with clear arousal. Ink blinks, slow: catlike.

Dream seems to be taking him in, too. He takes a step forward, settling a hand on the inside of Ink's femur: pushing him open.

"Um, turn over. Please," Dream says, shifting from foot to foot.

Okay, he may be hot. But, he'll still always be Ink's awkward little Sunshine.

Ink obliges. He keeps his knees on the edge of the desk- forearms resting out in front of him. He leans into the stretch, arching his back. There's a part of him that wishes he could see Dream's expression. But, imagining the view he's getting- that's good enough. Dream's fanfiction, what started this all, has been laid out in front of him.

Dream leans himself over Ink and oh- Oh. That feels good. Ink hums, accepting Dream's wandering hands. The kisses he presses into his neck feel pretty nice, too. Ink allows himself to moan- pleased with how Dream falters in his touches.

Getting off Ink's overalls is... a bit of a hassle. They have to do it leg by leg, Ink shifting from side to side. But, soon enough, the cool air of Dream's room is hitting his ecto. What a view, Dream must be getting. Ink hears him clear his throat. There's a lengthy pause.

"Can you..." Dream trails off, distracted. Ink, in perfect detail, can imagine Dream's eye-lights wandering before he shakes his head: grounding himself. "Can you read... what comes next? I can't see from here."

Sure thing.

Ink reads.

-

Ink mewls once more, as my fingers finally find his awaiting clitoris, already engorged wirh arousal. The head peeks rhrough the hood, greeting me with fervent jubilation.

-

Ink's voice cracks. "Clitoris... engorged- jubilation," he snorts. "That's... wow. What a big, sexy vocabulary you have there, Dreamboat." His tone is mirthful. Light. And... just a tad mocking.

Dream audibly shuffles. He presses himself against Ink. "... Quiet, you," he murmurs, reaching a hand around Ink's hip.

He pauses. He pulls his hand back. Another pause.

"Um," Dream says. "I think this is going to work best if you sit up, actually?"

Ink sits up. Dream is quick to cradle him in his embrace. His hand trails its way across his ribs: touch feather light. Ink can't help but sigh when Dream finds his clit. Dream knows his body. Dream knows how to work his magic.

"So," Ink says, going off script. He can feel the heat pooling in the marrow of his bones: pleasant. "Been wanting to fuck me for awhile, huh?"

Dream leans his head into the crook of his shoulder. Ink can feel when Dream speaks, syllables reverberating through his skull. "Yes. Years," Dream admits, voice tinted with olive-green honesty.

Oh.

Ink leans into Dream's touch. He breathes. In his mind, there is nothing but shades of baby pink.

Dream nuzzles into his neck. He plants one soft kiss after another. "Hmm... what's next?" Dream asks.

"Don't stop, I'll read out loud," Ink responds, pleased when Dream follows his advice.

-

Ink bucks his hips into my touch. Desperate. I chuckled. Oh, what I had in store for him. 

“ You’re so aroused, my love,” I whipser into the side of the artists skull, feeling him shiver with desire at each and every touch. “Is this… all because of me?” I ask. 

-

Dream hums. He draws his fingers around Ink's clit . Ink is brave enough look. His eyes trail the movement: hypnotic.

"You are..." Dream murmurs. He spreads Ink apart, testing. Teasing. Ink shudders. "Pretty aroused, I'd say."

No shit, Sherlock.

-

Ink is too busy riding wave after wave of pleasure, so he can only shake his head ‘yes’ in agreement. 

“Good…” I moan into the side of his skull, head tucked on his shoulder. He moans back. “Are you ready, my dear?” Ink shakes his head ‘yes’ once more. Unfortunately, I have to remove my hand in order to pull Ink’s undershirt, scarf,

-

Wait. Hadn't Dream already 'taken' off his scarf? Ink throws a look back at Dream, who's currently doing anything but looking directly at Ink. Ink laughs. Inconsistency... the fault of all writers. He can't blame him.

-

and overshirt over his head. I move my hands down to my pants: here goes nothing, I think. 

-

His shirts come off with ease. It's routine, at this point. Ink can tell that Dream sets the fabric down somewhere safe. He steps back, obviously pondering his next direction. Ink hears Dream undo his zipper. That pause- he's definitely taken off his pants.

Ink feels Dream's hand on the small of his back. He's being guided.

"Back down you go," Dream says, soft.

-

I pull down my pants with a flourish, revealing my erection. 

I take my cock into my hand, hard and ready. I could only describe it as feeling… correct, as I trail the head of my dick across Ink’s pussy : warm and wet.

-

It's hard to not lose his composure, as Dream brushes his dick against Ink's cunt.

"Oh," Ink can't stop himself from saying. He lowers his head, focusing. Dream teases- pulling back when he would usually thrust in. "That feels..." Ink bites back a moan, Dream has reached his clit: tracing circles with the head of his dick. "Pretty good, actually. Don't stop."

His voice breaks, as he reads.

-

“ O-Oh!” Ink cries out, bucking his hips back: attempting to chase the pressure, pull me inside. But it's useless… I pin his hips down and he moans again. “Have you been hiding this from me this whole time?” He whimpers, so, so very desperate. 

“More like… there's been no occasion to use this…” i murmured into his neck.

“Well get on with it, then! Use me!” He cries out. 

-

"Hiding what?" Ink can't help but laugh. "Your penis?"

Ink can't help but smile, when Dream laughs.

"I... guess?" He teases another thrust, pulling back at the last second once again. "Remember, I wasn't exactly... myself, when writing this!"

It's weirdly... endearing: imagining Dream, drunk beyond the point of no return, penning down his deep, dark fantasies. Ink wishes he could have been there. Maybe help him fulfill some of his dreams, in that moment. What an interesting story that would have been.

Ink turns his attention back to the script. He uses all his energy and brain power to read.

-

Who’s to say no to that? 

I thrust into Ink’s pretty pussy, groaning as he takes me all the way up to the hilt.

-

"Backshots," Ink giggles, voice hitching when Dream fucks into him.

Oh, is all Ink can think. His vision blotches deep sunset: ink dripping from his teeth. He sputters, burying his head into his forearms. Dream's hands are warm around his hips- pulling him even closer. Deeper.

Ink is able to lift his head, just enough to read the next direction.

-

Ink orgasms. 

-

Well. He's not there quite yet.

Ink skims over the next page- looking for the next feasible action.

-

I have to oblige. I must please him. I must… make him mine. 

I thrust into him again- the warmth of his ecto caresses the burning of my arousal. The colors swirl and mix; Gold and rainbow, becoming one in bliss. Ink turns back to kiss me, hot and heavy. I kiss him back, deeply. I will do anything to please him. I moan into his mouth as I pull back and thrust once more- beginning to find a good rhythm.

-

"Some nice description you have there, Sunshine," Ink says. He wishes he was in a position that would allow him to see their magics mixing: It was one of his favorite parts, of this intimacy. It made him feel... something. Normalcy? It was hypnotizing, watching as his magic was accepted readily and without any complaint.

Dream mumbles something- Ink isn't exactly sure what. And, he doesn't really care, focusing on the feeling of Dream. Just, Dream. All of Dream.

Ink pauses. He knows he's flexible but... will this work? He wants to follow the script.

Fighting his bright pink desires, Ink asks, "Hey, can you pause for a moment?"

Dream stops. He stays statue still.

With care, Ink attempts to twist himself around- just enough to initiate a kiss. Dream understands what he's doing- meeting him halfway. Still, it just doesn't match up. It's not going to go exactly as Dream had described.

Ink sighs. Okay. Fine. Not everything can go to script. He nods, motioning for Dream to continue. The sensation is welcomed. Ink turns his gaze back to the pages.

-

Ink orgasms once more. It’s perfection. I continue on, fire brewing in the heat of my magic. My hands wrap around the magic that forms his stomach, pulling him even closer. This feels almost like battle, the fight for pleasure. He yields to me as he orgasms once more, my cock piercing him like a sword through flesh. Thrice I have made him cum. Thrice. And, he’s showing no signs of stopping. This is the happiest I have ever been- the warmth of Ink’s room a backdrop to this momentous moment.

-

Ink blinks. "Wow, you uh," he pauses as a wave of pleasure washes over him. He is strong. He can focus. He continues. "You, uh, really like it when I come, huh?"

Finally, Dream finds his voice. "Yes," he says, honest. "I like it when my partner feels pleasure."

Again, somehow, Dream still manages to surprise him: all persimmons and rust. The simple statement catches onto something in Ink psyche. It claws at him, pulling him down and down; ruthless in its ecstasy. To have someone care for you. To have someone know you. To have someone choose you.

Dream finds a pleasant rhythm. Ink anchors himself on the aged wood of the desk.

A moan escapes Ink, as he tries to speak. He opens his mouth, again: another incomprehensible string of sounds. He breathes. In, and out. Grounded. He is grounded.

"Just... lemme know when you're close," Ink says, peering at the next part of the script.

Dream splays his hand across Ink's rib cage: a silent agreement.

Ink can feel himself getting... loose. His mind is filled with static and pastel landscapes. He knows his hands are flexing against the surface: grasping. But, the actions aren't actually registering. Dream keeps his steady pace. He knows what Ink likes.

Ink can feel the change in Dream's movements before he process that the words, "I'm close," are being spoken against his skull.

He squeezes his eye sockets shut. Preparing.

"Inside," Ink whispers: nearly a plea.

He's read the script. Ink knows what Dream likes, too.

Dream comes. He curls himself over Ink, pulling him even closer: closer than Ink thinks is possible. Ink presses a kiss to one of Dream's hands- thrown over his collarbone. They stay there for a bit. Breathing. Ink's eyes trail over to the pages once more.

-

How can I say no to that? 

I thrusted one last time, buryimg my cock deep against his cervix as i came. I was in heaven. Here, with Ink in my arms, I could die happy. 

-

Besides the... cervix bruising: It was pretty accurate. Ink hums, satisfied. He reads a bit more, this time to himself.

-

Ink moans as he orgasms for the fourth— no. Fifth time! He roars in joy and pleasure as he feels my cum settle deep and heavy in his ecto; i owned him now. I claimed him as my mate in the most primal way.

My omega.

-

Ink chokes. He coughs, ink falling from his mouth and splattering all over Dream's pristine desk. Dream pulls away, as Ink rushes to sit himself up and face him.

" Dream ."

Dream cocks his head to the side in confusion. He stares at Ink- like... like he has no clue what comedy gold he had unearthed a year prior.

"Dream, holy shit, " Ink wheezes. He coughs again, a tremor wrecking his body. A smile dances across his face: threatening to split his mouth wide open.

A look of horror dawns across Dream's features.

"What did I write," he says. Not so much a question, but a statement of guilt.

Ink takes Dream by the shoulders. He pulls him in close. Close enough to where Ink can smell the warmth on his breath.

" Omega, " Ink says. Perfection. "I'm your omega."

Dream's brows knit themselves together. His mouth opens and closes.

"What," he finally says. He repeats himself. " What ."

Ink already has the page held up and waiting for him. Dream leans forward to read. He seems to read once. Then twice. And then he checks for a third time, just for good measure.

As realization dawns on him, Dream takes a step back and puts a hand over his mouth.

"I didn't know you were into that," Ink wiggles his brow, scooting forward. "I mean- sure, I can see you and a good sex potion, but... Omegaverse?" Ink whistles, low. "Well... guess I'm going to have to bow down to my big, sexy, powerful al-"

"Stop," Dream commands, laughter spilling from his fingers. But, Ink will not be controlled.

"Oh," he clasps his hands together, a mocking sign of submission, "oh mate me and fill me with your babies my Dr-"

Dream slaps a hand over Ink's mouth. Ink pauses. He licks Dream's palm.

"Ew!" Dream stumbles back, looking at Ink in mock disgust. Ink sticks his tongue out at him.

Dream swats at Ink, playful. Ink kicks a leg out.

"I- I was drunk, I'd been reading a lot of mating stories and, well... I believe it just got in my head! I'm not into that."

"That's what they all say."

Ink winks at Dream. Dream adverts his gaze, giggling.

"No."

"Come on! You know you can be honest with me."

Dream steps forward. He places, his hand on Ink's shoulder. Ink looks up at him: he's still all sunshine and falling stars. Ink can't help but grin. What a beautiful piece of art, he was.

"I promise you," Dream leans forward for emphasis, "I am not into Omegaverse. That was a freudian slip at its best." He points a finger at Ink: almost accusingly. His smile is light and airy.

Ink rolls his eye-lights. Sure. Fine. He leans in, too: resting his forehead against Dream's.

For the last time, Ink glances down at Dream's written work. There's not much left. They should finish this off: proper.

Ink reads.

-

I plopped down, satisifed.

But, we weren’t done yet. 

I flipped him over on the desk. I ate him out. He came once more. For the tenth time.

Aftercare was there. Plue said omg i suppeort you guys i love you youre my best friends.

The end 

-

The 'd' in end looks more like a random scribble than a letter. Ink narrows his eye sockets.

"You, uh, really lost steam at the end there," he says. Ink can imagine Dream- drunk and suffering from a post orgasm high, writing the last word just as he passes out: head resting on paper like the world's most useless pillow.

Dream hums.

"It... appears I did," he nods, blinking. He looks back at Ink.

"So," Ink starts, but is unable to finish his sentence as Dream apparently develops the power of mind reading. Ink is hoisted up into Dream's arms and promptly thrown onto Dream's soft, awaiting bed.

Ink yelps as he lands: not so much from surprise, but from the joy of subverted expectations. He laughs, rolling himself over to make room as Dream throws himself besides him.

Dream sits up, scoots himself back, cracks his knuckles, and dives right into eating Ink out like a five course meal.

Oh. Now this is heaven. It's filthy- devastatingly so. But, that's what Ink loves.

Ink's eye-lights trail down to his own ecto: tinted warm and golden. It makes Ink's skull feel fuzzy, watching the swirl of foreign magic be accepted into his system. It won't change anything- not really. But, the symbolism is there. The color. It's hard to see from this angle, but Ink knows that Dream's magic is mixing with Ink's own rainbow palette. Beautiful.

Ink sighs, letting the waves of pleasure wash him over.

Ink comes. Finally.

Dream pulls himself up with satisfaction, swiping the back of his fist across his mouth. He needs a good shower- they both do, actually. But, that can wait.

"Aftercare was there," Dream quotes. Ink laughs, accepting the kiss that Dream plants on his cheek. Ink is pliable, as Dream pulls him into a loose embrace. Ink tucks his head into Dream's chest.

Again; This is safety. This is comfort.

"That was fun," Ink murmurs into Dream's shoulder. Dream nods, rubbing circles into Ink's back.

"I have more, if you're up to it. Another time."

Ink looks up. He grins.

Oh, this was going to be interesting.

Dream turns on his side, looking into Ink's eye-lights: Summer day warm. He smiles.

For now... For now, Ink can enjoy this story.

Chapter Text

Hi. My name is Dream (no last name) and I’m a skeleton with bright golden magic. I’m actually a ball of light- you can thank my mother, Nim, for that, but that is beside the point. I’m the leader of the Stars (an evil fighting group located in… none of your business! We fight evil and help the Multiverse. That is all you need to know.) and Guardian of Positivity. My brother, Nightmare, is… complicated. He spreads negativity throughout the Multiverse. So, as you could guess, we fight him pretty often. My close friend and fellow member of the Stars is Blue- he’s an Underswap Sans. However, my best friend is a skeleton named Ink. 

Ink is the prettiest skeleton in the Multiverse. He is also a bit of a jerk, but, I can forgive him for that. As, I’ve been in love with him for as long as I can remember. Loving him comes just as easy as breathing at this point.

Ink is a small skeleton (around 8 inches shorter than me). That doesn’t mean he’s not strong though! He’s thrown me through a window before (I will NEVER forget that day)- his elegant humerus’ are quite filled out. Ink wears a long brown scarf, crop top, a snow white undershirt, tucked in wood brown overalls that look like hakamas, toeless obsidian socks, and no shoes. He sometimes changes his outfit, but that is what you would find him wearing on a typical day. Oh! I almost forgot to mention- he has a splatter of ink (that’s how he got his name!) across his right (our left) cheek. He also has these cute little sharp fangs that poke out whenever he talks or smiles like they're saying hello. 

“I need you,” Ink whined, one eye-light a hazy cherry blossom pink and the other a deep honey colored circle. 

You’re probably wondering how I got here. Hold on dear reader, for I was asking myself the exact same question.

“U-Um?” I said, stuttering over my words. I had been doing important paperwork in my room when Ink had stumbled through the door, looking like he’d been battling a decent fever. His round cheeks were tinted a pretty rainbow- his blush. He had panted as he entered my room, like he had been working out or fighting for hours. I gasped, “I-Ink…? What happened?”

Ink looked at me. Pure conviction danced through his eye-lights- having shifted to both being pale pink. I stood up from my desk- mahogany, putting my important paperwork away in a safe space, and walked over to where Ink was standing in despair. 

Ink smelled of wild flowers and paint with a dash of oak. I couldn’t help but lean in, breathing in his earthly scent. “What’s wrong?” I asked sensibly, prompting him once more in a supportive not judgemental way. 

I was caught by surprise when Ink lunged forward and captured his lips with my own with a type of passion that surprised even himself.

I couldn’t help but stumble back. This was impossible- improbable, even! Ink, my best friend, was kissing me? 

Ink caught me as I was about to fall- not stopping the kiss, as he took hold of my body and slammed me back against the wall. His rainbow tongue entered my mouth, soft and sweet. I couldn’t help the moan that ran through my body. I shook. This was… no. I had to stop this. I had to figure out what was going on. This wasn’t like Ink. 

After what felt like an eternity of kissing, we separated. I pushed him back by the shoulders, leaning my head away. I cried, “no, Ink! This is— this isn't you! What’s wrong?”

Ink hung his head low in shameful defeat. He took a step back. 

“My paints…” He finally growled, voice low and deep and hot with passion and desire. He turned his head to the side, averting his gaze. “I…” He trailed off. 

I couldn’t help myself, when I leaned forward and captured him in a warm embrace. He seemed to melt with my touch, tucking his head into my shoulder, fitting like a lost puzzle piece: finally home. 

“I took my pink paint, I’m like… a wild animal that needs to be tamed. By you, Sunshine,” He looked up at me with honesty and love. 

I felt a chill of arousal run through my vertebrae. 

“I-I,” I stuttered, completely at a loss for words. “But- Is this… how you truly feel?” 

Ink looked at me with an unreadable emotion: eye-lights both a mirthful yellow.

“I’ve… wanted you for some time, my sweet Dream. The paint is just… revealing my true desires. Making it impossible to ignore.”

I blinked. 

Ink leaned forward, close enough to where I could feel his hot breath tickling the bones of my cheeks. “I need you to make me yours, Sunshine.” His fists clutched at the fabric of my cape like he was using me as a lifeline. He needed me. 

I needed him just as badly. 

Ink kisses me again; This time I kiss him back. 

Ink moans into the kiss: primal and desperate. It feels like I have the weight of the world in my arms: needy and wanting. I kiss back with a fervor I did not know I had inside of me. I take him by the shoulders and spin him around, throwing him against the wall where I had just been. He hits the wall with a thud, and I pause to look at him- was he okay? My question is answered when I take in the sight of him: gorgeous, staring at me like a cat in heat would look at his mate. 

Our mouths meet again. He paws at my cape- clearly trying to undress me. I shrug the fabric off, taking the chance to pull his scarf from his pretty neck. I lap at the bone, tongue hot and needing. He moans at the contact, throwing his skull back against the wall with another thud. I suck and kiss at his vertebrae, enjoying how he ruts into my leg: pressed firmly against his groin. 

There’s no doubting it- he already has his ecto summoned. 

“D-Dream…” the artist mewls. “Hmmgh… i want you sooo bad… Please… I need you…” He whines.

I can’t say no to that. I hoist him up, hands firmly under the thick muscular ecto covering the elegant angle of his sexy femurs. Ink presess heated kiss after heated kis into my neck: pleading. 

I walk over to my mahogany desk. I transfer Ink to one arm, and I use the other to sweep away all the uncaring paperwork, not caring to watch as the paper flys and flutters through the air. 

Ink whines as I put him over the desk with his rib cage flat on the wood, despairing at the loss of contact.. I hushed him softly, leanign in to keep on kissing the sensitive, succulent vertebrae of his neck. 

He moans again, singing the high note of arousal: a prayer, as I move my hands to pull down his brown overalls. “Oh, Sunshine,” he moans, desperate. “P-Please!”

“You’re gorgeous,” I breathe into the kisses I press into his scapula. I trail my hand over the swirling rainbow colors of his ecto. It felt like warm, sweet jello under my touch. Perfection.

Ink mewls once more, as my fingers finally find his awaiting clitoris, already engorged wirh arousal. The head peeks rhrough the hood, greeting me with fervent jubilation.

Ink bucks his hips into my touch. Desperate. I chuckled. Oh, what I had in store for him. 

“You’re so aroused, my love,” I whipser into the side of the artists skull, feeling him shiver with desire at each and every touch. “Is this… all because of me?” I ask. 

Ink is too busy riding wave after wave of pleasure, so he can only shake his head ‘yes’ in agreement. 

“Good…” I moan into the side of his skull, head tucked on his shoulder. He moans back. “Are you ready, my dear?” Ink shakes his head ‘yes’ once more. Unfortunately, I have to remove my hand in order to pull Ink’s undershirt, scarf, and overshirt over his head. I move my hands down to my pants: here goes nothing, I think. 

I pull down my pants with a flourish, revealing my erection. 

I take my cock into my hand, hard and ready. I could only describe it as feeling… correct, as I trail the head of my dick across Ink’s pussy: warm and wet.

“O-Oh!” Ink cries out, bucking his hips back: attempting to chase the pressure, pull me inside. But it's useless… I pin his hips down and he moans again. “Have you been hiding this from me this whole time?” He whimpers, so, so very desperate. 

“More like… there's been no occasion to use this…” i murmured into his neck.

“Well get on with it, then! Use me!” He cries out. 

Who’s to say no to that? 

I thrust into Ink’s pretty pussy, groaning as he takes me all the way up to the hilt.

Ink orgasms. 

“A-already!?” I cry out. We hadn’t even started! I press my hand against the back of Ink’s ribs, as he throws his head back, still vocalizing his pleasure. 

“Keep going!” He yells out, bucking his hips back. The fire of lust still burns deeply within him.

I have to oblige. I must please him. I must… make him mine. 

I thrust into him again- the warmth of his ecto caresses the burning of my arousal. The colors swirl and mix; Gold and rainbow, becoming one in bliss. Ink turns back to kiss me, hot and heavy. I kiss him back, deeply. I will do anything to please him. I moan into his mouth as I pull back and thrust once more- beginning to find a good rhythm. Ink orgasms once more. It’s perfection. I continue on, fire brewing in the heat of my magic. 

My hands wrap around the magic that forms his stomach, pulling him even closer. This feels almost like battle, the fight for pleasure. He yields to me as he orgasms once more, my cock piercing him like a sword through flesh. Thrice I have made him cum. Thrice. And, he’s showing no signs of stopping. This is the happiest I have ever been- the warmth of Ink’s room a backdrop to this momentous moment. 

I can feel the warmth of my oragasm brewing in the depths of my marrow like a warning.

“I-I’m close,” I mutter into the side of the artist’s skull. I am. 

Ink rocks his hips back, meeting me at yet another thrust. “Inside,” he growls, a command. 

How can I say no to that? 

I thrusted one last time, buryijg my cock deep against his cervix as i came. I was in heaven. Here, with Ink in my arms, I could die happy. 

Ink moans as he orgasms for the fourth— no. Fifth time! He roars in joy and pleasure as he feels my cum settle deep and heavy in his ecto; i owned him now. I claimed him as my mate in the most primal way. My omega.

I plopped down on the bed, satisifed.

But, we weren’t done yet. 

I flipped him over on the desk. I ate him out. He came once more. For the tenth time.

Aftercare was there. Vlue said omg i suppeort you guys i love you youre my best friends.

The end