Archive of Our Own ^beta

The day had been nearly perfect. Right up until it wasn't.

Dream had cleared his schedule for the day to be with you for the first time in weeks. While it was hard only being able to spend a few minutes at a time with him between his duties while you slept, you couldn't bring yourself to hold being busy against him. Of course running the collective unconscious of the universe would keep someone busy. So you'd planned something that would, hopefully, give his mind a little room to breathe today.

He was in bed with you when you woke up, and, while fixing breakfast for the both of you (which was always just a cup of black coffee for him), you told him you wanted to swing by the local farmer's market for some produce shopping. He'd seemed less than enthused about leaving his property in the Waking World, but accompanied you regardless. Despite his outwardly bored expression, you could tell by the way his eyes shone that he was enjoying watching you pet dogs and buy produce. Some of the luster left when you asked him if he could cook while buying bread. He confessed he didn't know because he'd never tried – he never had to – and you excitedly insisted on finding out together for dinner.

He didn't say no, but he kept trying to (not so) subtly change your mind throughout the rest of the day. You weren't having it, too excited to see this ancient cosmic entity have a first time experience. You told him to handle food prep while you did the actual cooking, telling him "you need to crawl before you can run," and everything went very smoothly.

You were busy minding the skillet when the timer for the bread went off, and you asked him to pull it out of the oven for you. That was when you nearly dropped the pan on his head and made him drop the tray of bread. He was pulling the baking sheet out with his bare hand. You dragged him over to the kitchen sink, panic gripping your chest until you saw that he was completely fine and very confused.

"I am not hurt. I hardly even felt it," he calmly told you. You leaned your elbows on the counter and slumped forward, burying your face in your hands, trying to slow your heart rate.

"Just… go stand over there before you give me any more heart attacks," you sighed wearily, motioning to a spot in the kitchen out of the way.

Dinner was wonderful, despite the Endless's sudden sullenness. You even got him to try some of what the two of you made, saying he liked the flavor, but disliked how heavy the dish was. You tried to reassure him you weren't mad at him once you finished eating, but all he did was evade the subject.

"I am aware," her replied before sipping his wine.

"Then why are you sulking?"

"I am not sulking," he insisted sulkily.

"My apologies. Would his highness prefer the term brooding?" you quipped, your tone light and teasing.

"Mind your tongue," he warned, giving his wine glass a halfhearted glare.

"...You can tell me," you said softly, trying to show him you really were trying to help. "It's okay."

"There is nothing to tell, my sweet."

"Dream, come on," you pressed, wishing he would at least look at you. "You've been broody ever since I pulled you over to the sink." You waited for him to respond and were met with silence. "If you won't tell me what's wrong, could you at least tell me what you need to feel better? Please?"

"I am Dream of the Endless, the Prince of stories and ruler of the Nightmare Realm" he scowled. "I need for nothing."

You regarded him carefully from across the dining room table. He never openly talked about what was bothering him, but he had a habit of hiding what was wrong in his evasions. It took you some time to figure that out, and even more time to learn how to decode his words. You didn't always get it right, but you were accurate enough to usually get in the ballpark of what was causing his moods. This time, his bringing up the Nightmare Realm stuck out to you.

"You're worried you scared me, aren't you?"

He remained silent, but the look he gave you – a mix between a warning glare and vulnerable sadness – spoke volumes. You sighed, knowing you'd hit the nail on the head.

"Listen, it's not…" you started, searching for the right words. "I wasn't scared because of you. I was scared for you. Most people, they see someone put their hand on something that causes serious harm, and they go into emergency mode the way I did."

"That would make sense were I human," he said quietly, lowering his eyes back to his now empty wine glass. "But I am not. You know I am not damaged so easily."

"Knowledge doesn't override reflex," you replied, looking him over sadly. "…just like how me telling you that you didn't scare me isn't making you feel any better, is it?"

Dream closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh. "No."

You sat in silence for a few moments, weighing your options. Right now, he likely needed some space to process and internalize what you told him, and you were willing to give that to him, despite wanting to spend more time with him. You rose, and he rushed to follow suit, ever the gentleman.

"Go unwind for a spell," you shot him a reassuring smile while gathering up dishes. "I'll take care of the dishes. Shouldn't take me more than a half hour, max. I'll come to you when I'm done."

"…Very well," was all he said before walking out of the room.

You found him in the library after you finished, sitting ramrod straight on one of the sofas holding a book open in front of him. Looks like space wasn't the right call. He likely ruminated instead of listening to you. Thankfully, the interim had given you time to prepare for such an outcome.

He didn't look up as you moved to stand in front of him, nor when you crowded his space by standing between his legs. He only looked up once you cupped his face and turned him to look at you. You smiled down at him gently while running a thumb over his cheek before giving him a brief kiss. Then, you knelt.

"What are you doing?"

You raised your eyes to meet Dream's. One of his eyebrows was quirked slightly, his eyes sparkling with guarded hope. He knew exactly what you were doing, but every so often he felt the need to double check. He despised the idea of you feeling like you needed to please him out of obligation. Considering what happened earlier, you feeling obligated was definitely a possibility.

"Telling you that I'm not scared of you isn't helping right now, despite you knowing it's true. So I'm showing you," you replied, echoing your realization from before. "Unless his majesty would prefer a different way?"

You saw him inhale sharply and his expression soften before closing his book and setting it aside. You only ever called him "his majesty" in bed, so there was no mistaking what you meant. He leaned forward and cupped your cheek, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into his touch.

"You really are the most magnificent creature," his voice was warm with affection and it made you relax into him even further. "Go upstairs to the bedroom and make yourself ready for me, my dove."

"How would his majesty have me?" you asked, relieved that he was finally relaxing again.

"How indeed…" you could hear the smirk in his voice while he moved to idly run the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. "I think as you are now, only bare and blindfolded. You will find a ribbon suited for the task in the nightstand." You opened your eyes as his hand left your cheek to see him resuming his previous position, albeit with his shoulders slightly more lax. "Now go."

You shot him a small, excited smile before nodding and heading out of the room. It's a really good thing this worked, because you had no idea what else you could have done for him if he didn't feel like it. Your instinct was to hold him until he felt better, but he was always so stiff whenever you tried to do that. He had no problem doing the holding, but being held? You'd felt rocks that were less rigid. You could only assume it was a control thing, because god knows he would never admit to it or even entertain a conversation about it.

Only once you'd shut the bedroom door behind you did you realize he didn't say how long you had to get ready, and you suspected that meant he was either going to walk in while you were stripping and punish you for your "disobedience," or make you wait blindfolded kneeling on the floor for an agonizingly long time. Knowing him, it was likely the latter, but some small part of you hoped for the former. You stripped yourself before going to the night stand, pulling out a long black satin ribbon. You knelt on the floor in front of the foot of the bed facing the door before securing the fabric over your eyes. And then, you waited.

The clock in the room didn't make any ticking sounds, leaving you alone with your thoughts racing in excitement. As adept as you'd become at reading him, you could never tell what he planned to do for a scene. He knew all of your likes and limits, but he was very good at subverting expectations, even for things that seemed simple and straightforward. One time early on in your relationship, he told you he was going to bind, blindfold, and gag you, and did so by pinning you to the mattress in a pitch black room, one hand clamped firmly around your wrists while shoving his fingers in your mouth with the other. Another time he said he wanted to make you overflow with pleasure, and then praised you to the point of tears while simply holding you in his arms; that was how you found out about his tear kink. You couldn't begin to imagine what he had planned this time, the possibilities swirling in your head already causing heat to pool between your legs. You struggled not to squirm, forcing yourself to focus on your breathing while you waited.

You'd been kneeling for what felt like 10 minutes before you heard the door to the bedroom quietly click open, then closed. You didn't react, despite your stomach flipping in excitement and your curiosity over what he could have been doing for the past 10 minutes. You heard him set something down on the nightstand, then felt his hand land on the top of your head a moment later.

"While I admit it was… refreshing to have you directing me earlier, I much prefer you like this, my sweet," he purred above you while gently petting your hair. He hadn't even done anything yet, and you could already feel yourself sinking. "You take orders so beautifully."

"Is that something his majesty would like to explore sometime?" you asked cautiously. "Following my orders?"

He was quiet above you for a moment, his hand slowing, but not stopping. You had the brief realization that he was actually thinking about it before he gently gripped your hair and pulled. Not enough to pull you up, but just enough to cause a pleasant sting.

"Perhaps. When the mood strikes me," he answered quietly above you as your head swam. "But not tonight. Tonight, you will heed your king's commands, correct?"

"Yes, your majesty," you replied, breathless, your proposal completely forgotten about.

"Good. Rise."

You swallowed and obeyed, standing as gracefully as you could. His hand landed on the small of your back to guide you once you were up, and it made your nerves hum in excitement. He guided you towards the bed, kissing your forehead before gently pushing you back onto the mattress. He positioned you several ways before settling on one that was to his satisfaction; your arms stretched out towards either side of the bed and your legs spread with a pillow beneath your neck and shoulders. Whatever it was he had planned, he needed your torso to be as level as possible.

Everything was still for a few moments, and you felt yourself flush knowing that he was taking the time to admire you. You sighed out as he placed a hand between your breasts, rubbing soothingly up and down your sternum.

"This morning, at the market, while passing the art vendor's stall, you asked if I painted," he said. "That question inspired what we will be doing. Tonight, my dove, you will be my canvas."

You couldn't help but gasp as you felt soft cuffs enclose your wrists, ankles, and thighs just above your knees, pulling you taught. You felt him withdraw from you as you pulled experimentally at one of the wrist cuffs, surmising you were being held in place by some form of under the bed restraint system.

"And the medium?" you asked, settling in.

"Patience, my darling," he chided lightly. You could practically hear him smirking. "You will find out in due time."

You felt him kneel on the bed between your legs while hearing the small pop of a vial being uncorked. You shuddered as a thick, warm liquid landed on your chest before his hands were on you, smearing the substance across you and rubbing it into your skin.

"Before any work can be done, I must prime my canvas," his tone was matter-of-fact while his hands massaged your torso save for your breasts. "For this piece, I have chosen a topical aphrodisiac with sensitivity enhancing properties that will leave no residue once completely massaged into your skin."

You could feel the effects of the aphrodisiac immediately. Everywhere he touched, his hands left a warm, flushed feeling in their wake that left a pleasant humming under your skin.

"I can't place the scent," you breathed out after a few moments.

"It's a blend of sandalwood and cinnamon, with notes of vanilla."

"The only vanilla thing about all of this," the joke flew out of your mouth before your brain had time to catch it.

He huffed out a laugh above you, but made no further comment as he continued to press and knead into you. His hands were firm and nimble, finding every tense muscle you didn't even know was tense, pressing and stroking it into submission until you were completely boneless beneath him. You'd once told him he had the hands of a sculptor, and right now, he was proving just how true that was. You were putty beneath him, perfectly willing to let him reshape you into any form he saw fit.

His hands moved lower, and you couldn't help but try to raise your hips to meet his touch as the heel of his palm grazed the top of your want. You couldn't help but whine in protest as he moved his hands back up your body.

"I doubt that particular spot will be in need of priming," he teased, his smirk once again audible. You gasped and failed to arch into his touch as his hands finally found your breasts, massaging the aphrodisiac into your soft, sensitive skin. At the same time, you felt him lower himself to kiss at the inside of your thighs. "Not when it's already so sensitive to begin with."

Your mind went blank as his lips sealed over your clit, kissing and sucking only hard enough to tease. You tried to bow beneath him, but you were stretched out too tightly by the restraints. You weren't sure what felt better: the heat of his lips on your clit or the barely there pressure from his cool hands on your breasts. Normally, it wasn't even a contest. You were suddenly very glad he hadn't rubbed the oil into your heat, knowing it would have made you far too sensitive.

After a few minutes, you'd just about settled into the rhythm of his hands when he suddenly moved to start focusing on your peaked nipples – first pressing light circles into them with his fingers, then gently rolling them between his thumb and forefingers, alternating the two methods at random. At the same time, he started sucking on your clit in earnest while occasionally flicking his tongue against it, and it took you to the edge ridiculously fast. You were certain he wasn't going to let you cum so soon, but you were so caught up in the sensations that you didn't care. You wanted more.

"Dream, please," you whimpered breathlessly. He hummed against you before releasing your clit to kiss at your hips and it made your head spin.

"What's wrong, my sweet? Is it too much?"

He sounded so smug, obviously proud of himself for managing to undo you so thoroughly from such little stimulation, and it only made you want him more.

"More. Harder. Please," you begged, trying and failing to arch your chest up into his hands. "I'm close. I need—"

"You need only what I say you need, my dove. Nothing more," his tone was stern but gentle as he pulled his hands away from your breasts. You felt him run a finger through your dripping, swollen folds, pulling a soft moan from you. "And you need no more priming."

You couldn't keep from letting out a small whine as you felt him get off of the bed, but didn't protest further. You laid your head back, trying to relax and catch your breath now that you weren't being toyed with, but the aphrodisiac was making that difficult. Your nerves were still humming under your skin like he hadn't stopped touching you, sending wave after wave of heat to crash against your exposed and dripping want.

Your ears pricked up at the unmistakable clink of ice against glass, and the thought 'fuck yes' had barely crossed your mind before you felt the cold land on your skin.

You gasped and flinched hard, the cold on your skin painful and biting, feeling more like a piece of frozen steel against your bare skin than the pleasant wet chill it normally felt like. It was sharp and unyielding, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake like the aftermath of a slap. You loved every moment of it. You readily lost yourself in the sensations as he silently glided the cube over skin, and by the time it melted, you were very gently shivering from the cold.

You felt him pull back from you, leaving you to hope that he would run the next one over your breasts. Those thoughts immediately fled your mind, though, when a white hot liquid splashed across the tops of your breasts. You shuddered and bit your lip as you felt the heat cool and harden against your skin.

"Fuck," you breathed out, unable to contain your excitement.

"Not yet," he said while pouring another line of wax across your chest; you didn't need to see him to know he had a satisfied smirk on his beautifully pouty lips. "I've not even finished my palette, let alone started on the piece itself."

"You know that's not what I meant," you groaned as the wax hardened. You hissed as he poured a third line, right beneath the previous two, your nails driving into your palms for lack of anything to grip. A fourth line of molten liquid hit your skin, making you whimper and ache, your legs twitching as you tried in vain to bring them together. You braced for a fifth line, but it never came. Instead, he seemed content to simply stand there and watch you squirm. You sighed out and relaxed back when you felt his hand slide up your chest, between your breasts.

"Perhaps a milder aphrodisiac next time," he murmured, peeling off short segments of wax from each line. "You looked quite pained."

You bit your lip, a thrill going through you at the phrase "next time."

"That doesn't mean I wasn't enjoying it, your majesty," you admitted sheepishly. "But I'm not against trying out other aphrodisiacs. You know, just to be sure."

"Oh, I'm sure," he huffed out a laugh.

You felt him gently brush his cool fingers up the inside of your thigh before beginning to trace them up and down your dripping heat at an agonizingly slow pace. You tried to squirm against him, attempting to get him to either brush your clit or slip his fingers inside of you. But your bindings held you firmly in place and he was far too nimble for your feeble attempts at movement. After a few moments, you felt his other hand come to rest on your forehead as though he were feeling for a fever.

"Was the wax too hot? You seem flushed, my dove."

You whimpered and continued to squirm against his fingers, a shudder of pleasure coursing through you as he teased your swollen lower lips.

"N-no, your majesty," you stammered, having trouble forming a coherent answer while he was toying with you. "It was… it felt good."

"And yet, the flush remains. Curious," he teased, pulling his hand away from your forehead. You heard the clink of ice again, but it didn't completely register. You were too focused on his finger dragging up and down your throbbing seam.

"I suppose I will just have to lower your temperature," he sighed in mock inconvenience while setting an ice cube against one of your breasts. "After all, it would not do for you to become so heated you melt the wax."

You twitched and writhed as he slid the frozen solid around and over your breasts, but not once touching either of your nipples. At the same time, he started very lightly brushing his finger over your clit whenever it would reach the top of your vulva, creating a delicious blend of heated want and painful chill. It wasn't until the ice cube had melted completely and you heard him reach for a new one that you found your voice again.

"Would you… would you punish me if I did?" Sometimes you just couldn't help yourself.

You heard him hum in thought above you before he pressed an ice cube onto your flushed and pointed nipple, holding his hand over it to not only keep it in place, but press down further on your swollen peak. You let out something between a cry and a sharp gasp, the cold biting into your sensitive skin. At the same time, he started focusing solely on your aching clit, his strokes feather light and agonizingly slow, pulling a soft moan from you.

"You are such a greedy little thing. Always chasing the next thrill, even to your detriment," he chided above you. "I could, I suppose. Perhaps I would put you in chastity for a week, then ensure your nights were filled with nothing but lewd dreams so you awoke aroused and needy. I could have you stimulate yourself while you warm me with your mouth beneath my desk as I worked, and I could watch you struggle to keep your presence hidden from those I had business with. Or I could bind you to a powerful stimulator and leave you for hours to drown in your own want. Regardless of what I decided to do, I am sure you would readily accept it. Just as you readily accept my choices now."

The pictures he was painting stole your breath away. They all sounded beyond frustrating and absolutely amazing. Your mind reeled between the possibilities he laid out for you and the mix of pleasure-pain he was causing you right now. You wanted them and more of this at the same time. You would take whatever he gave you, so long as he kept making it clear that you were his.

You felt his lower hand still, the pad of his finger resting over your clit, while the hand on your breast shifted to knead at it. It was only with that subtle movement that you realized the ice he held there had melted, and you couldn't help but vocalize your disappointment.

"You are still quite flushed. Perhaps a different approach…"

You pursed your lips and shuddered as he pulled back from you completely. Your body hummed and throbbed with the absence of his touch and the only thing on your mind was getting it back. You heard the gentle clink of ice again before you felt him get onto the bed and kneel between your spread legs.

You didn't have time to wonder what he had in store for you before you felt ice touch your skin surrounded by his soft lips make contact with your stomach. You startled and whined as he began trailing an ice cube over your body with his mouth, his heat and the freeze of the ice creating the most agonizingly amazing sensations. Your legs twitched when you felt him drag two more ice cubes up the insides of both of your thighs, but you were so distracted by his mouth that you didn't even think to brace yourself before he ran the ice directly over your lower lips. You whimpered and jerked against your restraints, but whether you were trying to move away from or towards him was anyone's guess. You started shivering as he inserted the first cube inside of your hot need, then let out a sharp cry as he ghosted the second cube over your engorged clit before sliding that one inside of you as well. You couldn't help but tremble beneath him from the ice in your core while he continued to drag the cube in his mouth up your torso and between your breasts before moving to your mouth. You didn't hesitate, opening for him, then swallowing the cool water that dripped into your mouth before taking the cube between your teeth.

You heard him hum in satisfaction and felt him drag his lips down to suck gently on one of your nipples briefly before reaching for something and sitting back up.

You shuddered and jumped as he began pouring a thin, even coat of wax over your breasts, followed by another coat just below that, and a third coat that slightly overlapped the second layer and ended at the top of your hip bones. Fortunately, the dried wax was thin enough that you could still feel him pouring the details over you with almost as much heat as the base coats, feeling closer to red hot than white. The intense heat combined with the ice cubes slowly melting in your pussy and the cube between your teeth dripping cold water down your throat made for the most beautiful temperature clashes you'd ever felt. If you didn't need to focus on keeping the melting cube clenched between your teeth, you would have slipped into subspace.

It wasn't too long until the ice in your mouth melted down to nothing more than a sliver, allowing you to cheek it, swallowing the water once it melted completely. You shuddered and moaned as you felt wax being poured directly over your nipple, causing Dream to pause above you.

"It appears you need another round of temperature controls," he remarked, setting aside whatever he was using to pour the wax.

"I'm sorry, but I can't keep another ice cube between my teeth like before," the words left your mouth in a hushed mutter, and you were acutely aware of how much you were still shivering from the cold inside of you. "My lips are too numb. It'll slip into my throat. I'm sorry."

"Shhh. It's alright, my dove," he soothed you, his hands cupping your face in gentle reassurance. "You need not apologize. I had not planned on putting another piece of ice there. You're doing so well."

His gentle praise made you shudder, the softness of his tone contrasted with the intense stimulation making your heart flutter and your throat tighten. You sighed out as his lips brushed yours, happily kissing him back. His lips left yours all too soon, trailing down your jaw and neck, their soft warmth leaving your skin where the wax started, only to feel them on you again as he kissed his way up the inside of your thigh. You bit your lip as he briefly lapped at your folds, and you couldn't stop yourself from clenching as he sealed his lips over your opening and sucked. You gasped as he pulled away, the realization that he just drank the water from inside you sending your head reeling and your core ablaze. You felt his lips brush against yours and readily opened your mouth for him, letting out a hum of surprise when you feel water enter your mouth that tasted of your own juices. Your mind went blank as you swallowed while kissing him back as fiercely as you could. What he did before was hot, but him forcing you to drink your own pleasure? There weren't words, and you could feel your brain being permanently rewired from it.

You let out another gasp as he slid two more ice cubes inside of you, realizing you were so caught up in him snowballing you that you didn't even hear or feel him reach for more ice. You groaned as he pulled away to continue his work, the cold deep in your core making you shiver once again. Now that you didn't need to focus on keeping anything between your teeth, you were able to completely lose yourself in the sensations, all internal sense of time leaving you. The cycle of ice, hot wax, and water that tasted of yourself repeated two more times before he declared he was satisfied.

"Can you take a picture so I can see it? Please?" your voice was breathy as your mind floated to the surface, his voice guiding you.

A beat passed while he considered.

"Very well," you could hear the trepidation in his voice as you felt him shift, likely pulling his phone out of his pocket. He hardly ever used it, and you remarked how impressed you were that he knew how to use it at all the first time you saw him with it. He'd rolled his eyes and told you he knew how and that it wasn't difficult, he just didn't like using contemporary human technology because it was too "impersonal and emotionless." You'd teased "oh, so you don't like it because it's just like you." He'd sulked for a week no matter how much you apologized, tried to explain to him that it was just a joke, and you didn't mean any harm by it.

You stayed as still as you could, not wanting to risk the wax cracking by breathing too heavily. A few moments later, you heard the click of his phone locking and felt him move to place his device on the nightstand. Then you felt his fingers at the edges of the wax.

You took in a sharp breath as he began methodically peeling, the cool air leaving you feeling flushed as it hit your tender skin. You shuddered and whimpered when, a moment later, you felt ice slide across your body again, soothing the flush from where he pulled the wax off of you. It made your core throb, and you tried once again in vain to bring your legs together in an attempt to ease the unbearable pressure between them. He moved silently and slowly, and by the time he completely peeled the parafin off, you were a twitching, whimpering wreck.

You were shivering from the chill on your skin in spite of the heat between your legs, and you couldn't help but sigh out and try to press into him when you felt him start dragging one long, cool finger up and down your dripping cunt. He watched you mewl and unravel even further for entirely too long before adding a second finger.

"You look so lovely, my darling," he cooed, dragging his fingers down over your clit at a glacial pace before moving lower, pushing inside of you just far enough to hook up and press into your g-spot. "You're glowing such a beautiful shade of pink. It's not dissimilar to the same shade dusting your cheeks right now. It's as if your whole body is blushing. All for me."

"Dream," you choked out a moan, trying to arch into him as best as you could. "Your majesty, please." He was still for a few moments, obviously enjoying watching you squirm as you failed to stimulate yourself against his fingers.

"Tell me what you need, my dove," his voice was low and rough with want as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at a leisurely pace.

Your mouth fell open as he moved in you, your expression crumpling at the exquisite ache of denial. You shuddered around his fingers at he tone of his voice.

"I…" you started to answer, interrupting yourself when you remembered your exchange from when he was "priming" you. "Only what you say I need, your majesty."

"Tell me who you serve," he commanded, his thumb ghosting over your swollen clit.

"You, your majesty," you moaned. You could feel your eyes watering beneath the blindfold, the dark possessiveness in his voice contrasted with his gentle touch to your already overstimulated nerve endings almost too much for you. You felt your wrist restraints vanish, but didn't dare move, save for gripping the comforter beneath you, that earning you an approving hum from above you.

"You've been so attentive and obedient. So good for me," his praise made you whimper and flutter around him. "Remove your blindfold, my sweet. I wish to see you come undone beneath me."

You didn't need to be told twice. You reached up and ripped the ribbon off of your face, eager for him to get inside of you. It took your eyes a moment to adjust between the change in lighting and the way they're watering, but once they did you swore you were nearly driven to the edge just from seeing him. He'd stripped, his flushed cock erect and leaking and he knelt between your legs, looking at you ravenously with eyes that had gone black and sparkled with pin pricks of starlight. You needed him so bad it hurt, the pain only growing as he pressed his thumb firmly into your clit while curling his fingers against your sweet spot in earnest, making you cry out.

He moved to loom over you, his free hand palming at your breast while his lips ghosted over the delicate skin on your neck, making the weight of your looming orgasm even heavier.

"Not yet, my beloved. You may have all the pleasure you want by my hand, save for your climax. You may only have that by another part of me."

"Dream, please!" you cried out, gripping your fingers into his hair while he pushed you to the edge. He wasn't going to let you cum until you were sobbing from over stimulation, and that thought alone almost made you break down.

"Is something the matter, my sweet?" he groaned, pressing what had to be a painful erection against your skin. "You enjoy being denied, do you not?"

You pursed your lips and whimpered as you tried not to grind against his hand without pulling away in order to keep the pleasure going without sending yourself over the edge.

"Y-yeah, but—" you cut yourself off with a silent cry, your mind going blank as he bit hard into your neck while rolling your nipple between his fingers. It took every ounce of self control you had to not cum while he hummed and gently sucked a bruise into your skin.

"But what? Surely this is not too much. I have had you dance on the brink for much longer before and under much more intense conditions," he teased after coming off of your neck, nipping at your earlobe. "Perhaps that is what you are trying to tell me. You want more."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before you felt him slip a third finger inside of you, stretching you pleasantly while pinching your nipple just enough to sting. You moved a hand from his hair to hook under his arm, your nails digging into the lean muscle of his shoulder in an attempt to keep yourself grounded enough to not cum. You were so lost in the pleasure-pain he was giving you, all you could do was ride his fingers for a few minutes, only finding your voice when he pressed his cock against your thigh again.

"You! I want you inside me so bad! Please!"

You heard him groan and felt his precum against your skin, only that making you realize you'd sobbed out your answer.

"But I already am inside you," he said while kissing at your tears before moving to speak low directly into your ear. He was pushing you, seeing how far he could take you until you broke, and the intensity of it made you cry harder. "Endeavoring to give you just a taste of how pleasant you feel to touch. How soft and warm you are, how inviting and accommodating. You bring me so much pleasure that it hardly seems fair you are unable to experience it yourself. You've been so obedient for me tonight, and you deserve to be rewarded with the utmost indulgence. Whatever it is you want, tell me and I shall give it to you, my good girl."

You were gone. Or you would have been if he hadn't taken his thumb away from your clit and stilled his hand. He only called you good girl when he was actively trying to make you cum, knowing how the endearment affected you.

You laid there as you recovered from your long-built denied orgasm, clinging to him and sobbing while he tenderly kissed at your tears.

"I want you to fuck me," you gasped out after a few moments. "Please, your majesty, I want you to fuck me so hard I won't be able to walk after."

He sighed out against your cheek and you felt his cock twitch at your request. "Very well."

You opened your mouth as he carefully pulled his fingers out of you, sliding them into your mouth while lining himself up and finally pushing his hard heat into your aching core. You eagerly sucked and lapped at his fingers while he ducked his head to kiss at the hickie he left on your neck, relieved to finally have him filling you.

"Very good," he praised, pulling back to watch you silently cry while cleaning his fingers. "You look so sublime when you overflow with pleasure, my dove. So beautiful. I could never craft a more lovely image."

He waited a few moments, taking the time to admire you. Then he began to move. Your breath hitched, his pace slow and gentle, his tenderness making you cry harder. It wasn't long before your first orgasm washed over you, heated pleasure flowing through you in waves while he moved inside you and you moaned around his fingers. You just started to come down when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth to kiss you hungrily. You returned the action with gusto, melting into him and happily letting him lick his way into your mouth. You could feel your second orgasm building while you kissed, and you wrapped your arms around him as he picked up his pace. A few moments later, and you needed to break the kiss, biting into his shoulder as he drove you to climax once more.

You completely lost yourself in him after that, your mind a blur of heat and pleasure. He took ages to cum – far longer than anyone else you'd ever been with – but, like you, he wasn't a one and done. He had no refractory period, only softening once he decided he was done instead of after each orgasm, and you supposed that was only possible because he wasn't human. Normally he "limited himself" (his words) to one or two for your sake, not wishing to exhaust or overwhelm you. Tonight, though, he let himself have four.

You were a sobbing, boneless, extremely satisfied wreck by the time you were done. He'd undone your leg bindings at some point to switch positions, though you weren't entirely sure of when. You nuzzled your face into his neck as he pulled you to him, moving from his side to his back. You were certain his firm arm around your waist was the only thing keeping you from completely dissolving into a puddle.

"Let me lay here for a spell. Then we can start aftercare," you murmured against his skin, enjoying the way he idly played with your hair.

"Of course, my beloved," he spoke softly while kissing your head. "You have seen to my needs. It is only right I see to yours in whatever manner suits you best."

You sniffled and hummed while draping an arm across his waist. You calmed down and your tears dried quickly now that you weren't being overstimulated and toyed with. You laid there with him, content to let him play with your hair while your heartbeat slowed, your ear pressed to his chest and listening to his absence of one. When you first became involved with him, you found it unnerving. Now, though, you found it peaceful.

After a few minutes, you picked your head up and kissed his cheek, intending to start on aftercare. That was when you glanced over at the nightstand. There was a small bowl of water, several candles, and a few small metallic pitchers with their rims covered in wax.

"What did you make with just red, black, purple, and white?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Dream shifted and reached his free arm out to the nightstand before grabbing his phone and settling back in.

"See for yourself," he said while unlocking his phone and bringing up the picture he took of you. "Bearing in mind the limitations of the medium, tell me what you see, my dove."

Your eyes swept over the image, barely registering that it was a picture of your body.

"A field of flowers at sunset."

"Why do you say that?" his expression remained stoic, but you could hear a twinge of frustration in his voice. Apparently, that was the wrong answer.

"The purple is obviously the darker part of the sky since it's filled with stars and that's where the moon is," you answered while pointing to the details on the screen. "By the way, I can't believe you put the moon on my tit. The red part is where the sun has just set behind the horizon. The black is the landscape, those small white dots on the black are flowers, and that larger white spot with the wavy sides is a pond or a lake."

He was quiet for a moment before he answered quietly, "Interesting. I hadn't considered that interpretation."

"If it's not a landscape, then what is it?"

"A water's surface at dusk."

You looked over the picture again. Now that you were paying closer attention, you could see that the white spots on the black part mirrored the white spots on the purple part almost exactly. The only thing that kept them from being perfectly mirrored was where the larger white spot rippled around the edges, distorting the proportions.

"Oh, I see it!" you exclaimed, excitedly pointing out details as you spoke. "The way you were able to mirror the stars is an amazing detail! It's really cool how you were able to do this with just four colors and basically no shading. And I'm really impressed you were able to do the ripple effect for the moon so well considering how heavily I was breathing."

You felt a small smile twitch over his lips before his expression settled again.

"You need not humor me," he almost sounded sheepish. "I am aware my style can seem rather abstract to humans, and that a single piece can have many different interpretations."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"I'm not humoring you. I really do see it. And I really am impressed with the details."

This time, the small smile stayed on his lips.

"Then I suppose I have no choice but to accept your appraisal," he said fondly, pulling you in for a soft kiss. You heard him lock his phone before pulling back from you and moving into a sitting position.

"Come. We have put off aftercare for long enough, my sweet."