Epilogue Part 1: Euphemisms, Self-Sabotage, and Only Children
Summary: A set of snippets about your time in the Dreaming following the events with the Fates.
Tags: mentions of imprisonment, trauma, sexually explicit content (18+, MDNI)
Series Masterlist
A/N: I figured these two deserved a little more time together, so here's a two-part epilogue. I also decided to incorporate the recent poll results that voted to have my next fic be more fluffy. So here's a bit of angst (for fun) and a whole lot of fluff to give Dream a break.
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It was the chatter you noticed first. The castle was typically silent, with the odd conversation or scuttle of palace staff, but this night when you arrived in the Dreaming, the halls were filled with raucous laughter and chatter. You peeked out from the corner you had appeared in to find swarms of people roaming the halls and Lucienne at the entrance, marking their attendance.
A group of men in matching gray suits carrying a box passed by you with a look of disdain, and you frowned at them before looking down at yourself. Whatever was going on in the palace, apparently penguin pajamas were not the appropriate attire. So you closed your eyes and a maroon ripple transformed them to a stand collar V-neck gown that was far more fitting for the event. Matching heels appeared on your feet, your hair curled and pulled off to the side, and your make up appeared at your whim. You went in search of answers, passing the gray group of men with a snide smile now in your changed attire.
The palace was always a bit of a labyrinth, and you were often lost without Dream beside you, so you exhaled a breath of relief when you encountered Matthew.
“Whoa-ho!” He chuckled, hopping backwards to take a better look you. “Look who’s all dressed up!”
“Yeah, yeah,” you rolled your eyes at him. “I just needed to fit in. I just got the evil eye from a bunch of guys in gray holding a box,” you laughed, jerking a thumb behind you. “Like I’m the crazy one for showing up in the Land of Dreams wearing pajamas.”
“I guarantee you they’re not the weirdest group here.”
“Really? What is going on here?” You asked, looking around to find palace staff prepping tables in the hall around you.
“He didn’t tell you?” Matthew cocked his head.
“No,” you said, watching the staff setting plates and glasses. “Is he here? He stopped by my shop in the Waking World this morning, and told me I might not see him for a while.”
“He didn’t tell you where he was going? Or why?”
“He didn’t tell me anything, and now I’m a little worried. Should I be worried?” You asked, glancing back down at Matthew.
“Well, he’s basically out of the woods now,” he assured you. “He went to Hell to free Nada, but he didn’t find her, and Lucifer gave him the Key to Hell.”
You simply blinked at the raven as you processed his news and decided to question the news chronologically. “Who’s Nada?”
“Matthew.”
You both turned to watch Dream descend the stairs to the hall and approach you, with his eyes set on his raven.
“I believe Lucienne could use your assistance at the palace entrance,” Dream ordered, and Matthew glanced at you for a moment before taking flight in the direction of the entrance. “Dear witch,” he smiled softly, as he turned to you. “You look… radiant,” he remarked, taking in your elegant attire and beguiling looks.
“Thank you,” you blushed with a downward gaze at his compliment, tucking a strand of hair behind you rear bashfully, before you recalled Matthew’s news. You looked back up at him with a frown as you spoke. “Hey, no flattery,” you warned, as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m mad at you.”
His throat bobbed as he worried Matthew had told you too much about Nada.
“You tell me that I might not see you for a few days, and then you go to Hell?” You questioned him, as you crossed your arms. “And you don’t even have the decency to tell me that you made it back alright?”
“Dear witch, were you concerned about me?” He wondered with a smile playing on his lips.
“No!” You scoffed, as you looked off to the side. His teasing smile persisted and you sighed. “Yes,” you admitted, and his smirk only deepened. “I really don’t like you,” you muttered, with narrowed eyes.
“No, but you were deeply concerned about me,” he reminded you, as he passed by to observe the banquet preparations. You followed after him a moment later with pursed lips and a furious breath.
“So what’s all this for?” You questioned, eager to shift the conversation from the concern you felt for his wellbeing.
“As Matthew told you, I have been bequeathed the Key to Hell by Lucifer, who has abdicated the throne,” he explained, as he straightened out a napkin. “Many interested parties have flocked to my door to earn possession of it, and I must decide whom to reward it.”
“Wow,” you breathed, watching the rigidity of his shoulders. He was always fairly tense, but his words seemed strained and posture more so. “Any forerunners?” You asked, lightly. Of course Dream of the Endless didn’t need your advice, but perhaps you could unburden his stress by helping him reach a conclusion.
“There are a few,” he answered shortly, and you took his limited response as a suggestion to abandon this line of questioning.
“Right,” you nodded softly with a downward gaze, as you traced lines on the table linen. He turned then at your low tone to watch your quiet dejectedness with a furrowed brow. You centered a plate slightly and realized that you were already in the hole and might as well go for broke. So you decided to ask the question you had asked Matthew before Dream interrupted you. “Matthew said you went to Hell to find someone named Nada,” you asked slowly, as you peeked up at him.
“Matthew spoke out of turn,” he responded, shortly. “Nada is none of your concern.”
You turned to him, taken aback by his irritation and dismissal. “I see,” you replied, before clearing your throat. “I should go,” you explained, before moving past him.
“Dear witch,” he began, as he followed after you.
“I wouldn’t want to get in the way,” you clarified, as you looked back at him with a thin smile. “After all, I’m sure it’s none of my concern.”
“Wait,” he called out, reaching for your wrist, but you woke then and disappeared before him.
He wanted to ask you to stay. To attend the banquet physically, not just in your dreams, and offer him the advice he knew you’d give. That he would value your outside perspective and, more urgently, your presence. He knew that if you were here, if you were by his side, he could weather the complexity of this task. But instead, he let his fear of you learning about his trespasses against Nada and condemning him for them.
You felt very silly by the next night. That morning you had awoken quite cross with him for dismissing you and your interest so lightly after all the time you had spent with him. But then you realized he was Endless: he had existed for eons before the human race even existed, so of course he would secrets he’d wouldn’t want you to know about. And of course, topics like whom to bequeath the Key to Hell and this mysterious Nada person were most likely above your pay grade and beyond your concern.
So when you arrived to the Dreaming the next night, with your tail tucked between your legs, you were quite pleased that he had seemingly elected to ignore the whole incident and pretend it hadn’t happened. He, in turn, was relieved that you had the grace to overlook his slights and return to him. Unbeknownst to you, he had spent the last day of the banquet worrying more that he wouldn’t see you again than about his decision for the Key.
The days were so tranquil, so perfectly uneventful, that almost two weeks passed by before you broke down. You knew it was coming; the uncomfortable feeling was buzzing just under your skin, like your magic and your mind was telling you it wouldn’t be long now.
You had pushed it all away: Declan’s kidnapping, your short-lived death, your eternal confinement to the Dreaming. And you had pushed it all aside the same way you did after Dream finally released you after two weeks in that stone room. You still couldn’t put the words to it. You still cowered behind the euphemisms, the uncharged words that made it all seem less than it was: “stone room”, instead of “dungeon”, “two weeks” instead of “imprisonment”, “released” instead of “realized the extent of his abuse and finally came to his senses.”
So of course when you returned to stay permanently in the realm where it had all happened, your body and mind couldn’t help but remind you of the danger this place once held for you.
Unfortunately, it finally happened when you were chasing Declan on the palace grounds.
You followed quickly after him with a giddy grin, your dress in hand, your shoes kicked off somewhere behind you when Declan first started to flee. But he turned a corner then and you couldn’t see him. Your heart beat loudly and it wasn’t from the unanticipated cardio of running after your son. And then it dropped. The same way it had dropped when you found his bed empty in the Waking World.
“Declan?” You called out, as you searched behind a set of hedges. You moved frantically, from the hedges to the wisteria trees, calling out desperately for him, when he finally appeared from behind a rounded corner of the castle. Your body slacked with a breath of relief as you ran over to him. “Oh, thank god,” you sighed, as you knelt down to hold him tightly against you.
“Doesn’t count,”he piped up, in reference to your finding him. “Only came out because you were scared.”
“Alright, I suppose that’s fair,” you laughed, as you pulled away to look at him. But your gaze fell behind him to a small, rectangular window.
The bars and the mesh hadn’t changed, you noted. The afternoon sun still filtered in and you could almost see yourself down there, basking in the warmth that he allowed you to have after days of darkness.
“Mommy, hurts!” Declan cried, as you held him tighter than you meant to. You released him without a word and he turned to find your lips parted and tears racing down your face. “Mommy?” He asked, as he poked you, but you didn’t respond. “Mommy?” He asked again, his tiny hand gripping your shoulder as he begged you to answer him. But all you could feel was the cold night air nipping at your skin like it would every night you were down there. “Mommy!” He sobbed, at your unresponsiveness.
“Daddy!” He cried out, turning towards the palace, and Dream appeared a moment later, looking over his son for any sign of injury.
“Declan, what is it?” He asked, kneeling to his son’s height and wiping his wet cheeks.
“Mommy!” He sobbed, pointing to your kneeling form before the small window.
Dream turned and his heart dropped when he realized what you were staring at. He swallowed thickly before turning back to Declan. “Mummy’s alright,” he assured him, as he picked him up. “She’s alright,” he soothed, waiting until his tears had subsided before disappearing in a cloud of sand to lay him in his bed.
He returned to you a moment later to find you still kneeling by the window, staring vacantly at the cell you called home for two weeks. He approached you gingerly, calling out to you with no response.
“Little witch?” He called for you gently, before placing a light hand on your shoulder.
You turned immediately at his touch, shuffling backwards on the grass until your back hit the stone wall. The soft grass suddenly felt like coarse stone to you as you recalled the night you first came here and he left you in the stone cell that lay behind you now.
He watched you look up at him with fear shaking your body and wild, frenzied eyes. And he could almost hear your words from that night: “What’re you going to do to me?”
“Dear witch,” he cried softly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured you, as he stepped forward, but you pressed further into the stone wall, turning in on yourself in a way that broke his heart. “Alright,” he agreed, taking a step back with his palms turned out towards you. With the space he gave you, your breathing began to even and you eyed him carefully as he knelt down to your same, lowered height. “You’re not in there,” he reminded you. “And,” he closed his eyes, as he forced himself to say the words, to admit to what he had done. “I will never put you there again.”
You swallowed thickly as you considered his words and you gripped the grass at your hands tightly. You let yourself cling to the blades, the soft dirt underneath, and you believed him. You weren’t in that dungeon anymore, and he wouldn’t put you back there again.
“Then why is it still here?”
He swallowed thickly at your small voice and the way you couldn’t seem to look away from him, watching his every move carefully for any sign that he’d go back on his word.
“It’s not for you, dear witch,” he shook his head lightly at your fear that he would put you back there. “I – I kept it as a reminder to myself. Of what I’d done to you. And why I shouldn’t look for you, after you left. How after what I’d done to you, you deserved to be free of me,” you listened to him carefully, and your gaze dipped low. “And whenever I considered giving it all up, it served as a reminder of what you suffered at my hand simply because I no longer wished to be Dream of the Endless.”
You watched him carefully, considering his words and the truth behind them for a moment, before you spoke. “Then you can get rid of it,” you countered, hesitantly. He furrowed his brow, and you continued. “If it was a reminder of why you shouldn’t look for me, then you don’t need it anymore. And you told me you plan to keep being Dream of the Endless, so you don’t need it for that, either. So, you can get rid of it now, can’t you?”
“I – I suppose I can,” he realized. When you returned, he didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to keep it as a way to remind himself that he had so much to make up for with you. But with the way those memories remained etched in his mind, and the way the cell’s continued existence wounded you, he realized he didn’t need it anymore. So he looked past you, and the cell filled with stone as the small window disappeared, as you turned to watch it fill and disappear.
Your hand went to wall, feeling where the window used to be, and when you felt nothing but stone, you breathed deeply before wiping your tears with the back of your hand.
“Where’s Declan?” You asked quickly, as you turned back to Dream. He was with you one moment, and the next, Dream had appeared.
“He’s fine, my love,” he assured you. “I left him in his bed.”
“Oh god, I must have scared him,” you realized, unsure of what happened in your missing time. “I should go check on him,” you decided, as you pushed off the ground, but Dream followed after you with a hand on your arm.
“He’s alright, dear witch,” he explained softly, before moving to stand before you. He peered down at you with worried eyes at how you seemed to move past this incident so soon. “Are you?”
“I guess I didn’t really think about what it’d be like to be back here after what happened,” you realized, with a distant gaze. “I thought I was over it, but seeing that room again,” you breathed softly, as you glanced back to where it had been. “I spent so long trying to let go of what happened because I never thought I’d be back here again. And ever since I’ve been back, there’s just been this aching, this nagging feeling that it wouldn’t be long,” you admitted softly, before pushing the words out. “Before something happened and you put me back there.”
“I would never,” he breathed.
“I – I know. I know that, Dream,” you nodded, looking up at him with a hesitant smile. You reached a hand out to his arm to steady yourself and assure him that you didn’t doubt his affections for you. “But fear isn’t always a logical thing,” you explained. “I know you’re not going to hurt me, but I can’t help feeling scared of what happened.”
“Perhaps with time, your fear of this place, of what happened, will fade,” he offered, hopefully. You nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes and he let it pass, unwilling to pick at the delicate resolution you had found.
You rolled over in your sleep that night, and when you moved to drape an arm over Dream, you frowned at the absence of his body next to yours. You called out for him with no response and grabbed a robe before beginning your search for him.
“Dream?” You called out, as you descended the stairs to the deepest parts of the castle. You had searched Declan’s room, Dream’s study, the library, your chambers, the throne room, but all to no avail. There was once place you thought he might be, one place you knew he’d never expect you to go.
You stared at the solid metal door for a moment. You had only seen the other side of it, but by the relative location of this room and when you had seen it from outside the castle, you were fairly certain this was it. So with a shaking hand, you unbolted the door and stepped inside to find Dream sitting on the mattress you called a bed for two weeks.
“Dream?” You called out gently. “What’re you doing here?” You asked, as you tightened your robe against the chill of the night air. “I thought you got rid of this place,” you muttered as you recalled how he had filled it with stone soon after you arrived here.
His head hung low and his arms rested on his knees, unable to look up at you when he spoke. “Go back to bed, little witch,” he warned you.
“No,” you shook your head softly. “Not without you,” you added. You tried to approach him, but an invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You tested the shield with your hand, before conceding that Dream didn’t want you near him.
“Leave me,” he demanded, but you simply looked down at him with your hand still against the boundary.
“Not when you’re like this,” you told him. “Dream, I can’t stand to see you like this,” you pleaded, and you yearned to reach out and hold him.
“Then leave,” he insisted. “And you won’t have to.”
“That’s not what I meant,” you scoffed. “I can’t stand the thought of you –”
You appeared in your chambers at that moment to your surprise. “Hurt,” you finished as you glanced around. When you realized what he had done, you let out a breath of fury before heading back down to the stone room and swinging the metal door open.
“That was not cool, Dream,” you berated, as you approached him. The barrier was still in place and kept you a short distance from him, but you didn’t let it deter you. “And before you decide to send me back to our chambers again, just know that I will be right back down here again.” You placed a hand to the barrier and sighed, “So, will you please just talk to me, Dream?”
He turned away from you and the bubble disappeared. Moving slowly to the bed, you sat beside him before gently laying a hand on his forearm.
“Is this because of earlier? When I found this place again?” You wondered softly, and when he didn’t respond, you took his silence as confirmation. “Oh, Dream,” you sighed softly, before moving to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t move though; as desperately as he wanted to hold you, he knew he didn’t deserve to. “It’s alright, my love. I’m alright,” you assured him, before pulling away enough to look at him. You brushed his hair from his eyes and turned his face towards you before continuing. “I know how much you regret what you did. I know you want to make up for it, and you have,” you explained, but he remained unconvinced.
“I could spend eternity trying to make up for it, but it wouldn’t change what I’ve done. And how it’s affected you,” he remarked, before letting out a breath of disbelief and twisting out of your hold. “Everything that I did to you, that I put you through in here, I can never undo it. I can never make up for it because it’ll always haunt you.”
“You might not be able to undo it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make up for it, Dream,” you assured him, and you tried to turn your head to catch his gaze, but he couldn’t bear to look at you now. “Because you have. I might occasionally remember something from then, and it might hurt, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you now.”
“Shouldn’t it?” He wondered, turning to you only for a moment before shutting his eyes against the doubt in your eyes. “Do you remember the banquet I held to appoint the Key to Hell? You asked me about Nada. The woman I had gone to Hell to find,” he began. “She was someone I loved very much, very long ago. And when she rejected my affections, I reacted harshly,” he paused, taking a breath before he could admit this to you. “I sentenced her to damnation for ten thousand years.”
Your breath caught in your chest at his words. You had thought your imprisonment was cruel, but this was something else entirely. If you had known what he had done to this Nada, perhaps you wouldn’t have let him catch you all those years ago. Perhaps you wouldn’t have tried to save him, either. But you watched him eye you carefully for any sign that your perspective of him had changed, and you sighed. Of course you would have saved him still, and of course you would have let him catch you. For better or worse, you were still terribly, desperately in love with him. So you merely let your hand slide over his and squeeze gently.
“When I finally found her, she told me that if I truly loved her, I would never have sent her to Hell. That I could never do that I did to someone I loved,” he explained. “And she was right. So, if I truly loved you, how could I do what I did to you?” He asked slowly, as he turned to you.
“Dream, what are you saying?” You asked in a low voice, as you clung desperately to his hand. But your heart dropping and the tears rolling down your face were proof that you already knew what he was going to say.
“I don’t think I love you,” he stated softly, before pulling his hand from you.
“Dream,” you whispered, brokenly, peering up at him with red eyes.
“I deprived you of food for two days. I didn’t let you see the sun for days. I wouldn’t let you speak to another soul for weeks,” he recounted. “You – you sought to end your life because I left you down here with no hope for escape. And even then I didn’t release you,” he whispered, and you looked away from him in shame. “If I loved you, I should never have been able to do those things to you.”
You wiped at your eyes and sniffled sharply, but you couldn’t seem to find fault in his words.
“You can’t deny it, can you?” he wondered simply, as he stared vacantly at the wall. You rolled your lip between your teeth as a heavy silence filled the space between you. “You should go. I don’t love you, little witch, and it won’t be long before you realize that yourself.”
“No,” you insisted, before clearing your aching throat. “I don’t believe you,” you sniffled, wiping harshly at your nose. “I think you’re afraid that I’m going to leave you like this Nada did, so you’re pushing me away before I get the chance. But I’m not leaving, Dream. I could never leave you,” you assured him, as your hand moved over to his. But he pulled it away as though you had burned him.
“You’ve left before,” he reminded you. “Perhaps you should have stayed that way and remained without me.”
“This is ridiculous,” you scoffed, as you rose form the mattress to face him. “Dream, I love you. I know you love me. So you can keep at it with this stupid, brooding, pushing-me-away-before-I-leave-you act, but I’m not going anywhere.” You moved to leave, but his next words stopped you in your tracks.
“You don’t love me, either,” he scoffed to your turned back. “You said you didn’t have any choice but to love me after you learned you were carrying my child.”
You recalled the words you had uttered to him in a teasing tone when he had asked why you loved him so deeply, and your eyes narrowed as he weaponized such a simple, silly moment. “It was a joke!” You shouted.
“It was the truth!” He responded in kind, rising to his feet. “If it weren’t for Declan, you never would have let me back into your life. He’s the only reason you’ve forgiven me. He’s the only thing connecting us.”
“I know what you’re trying to do, but this is a new low, Dream,” you scoffed. “Bringing our son into this petty little self-sabotage? Using him as a reason to try and get me to leave? Unbelievable.”
“You didn’t deny it,” he bristled, as you turned to leave. You looked up to the ceiling, sighing exasperatedly before shaking your head and turning to him.
“I deny it, Dream; If it was just me, I would have gone back to you in a heartbeat. Declan was the reason I hid from you for three years. Because I was scared of what you’d do to him after what you did to me,” you admitted. “Happy? Is that what you want to hear? Or do you want to hear how I hate myself for being so weak that I slept with you, had your kid, and fucking moved in with you?”
He looked at you with parted lips and a broken breath escaped you as you realized you had gone too far. “You hate yourself for having my child and reconciling with me?” He asked, in a small voice, and you knew he expected you to say something, but not this.
His quiet heartbreak caught you off guard with how aggressively he had been pushing you to leave. Your gaze dipped and your body slacked with dejection as you moved to sit on the mattress. “Not for Declan,” you sighed. “But sometimes,” you began, as you pulled at your fingers. “Sometimes I think about what it must look like to everyone else and I feel… stupid and weak. Like I’m giving in to you. Like I’m letting you get away with what you did to me. Like anyone with a spine would have left.” A bitter, breathy laugh left you before you continued. “Sometimes I can’t even look at myself with how little I respect myself now.”
You sat in a quiet humiliation after your revelation as Dream moved to sit beside you. “Do you regret having a child with me? Or being with me?” He wondered softly, trying to keep his voice even despite the heartache he knew your words could cause him.
“No, Dream,” you breathed, with a light smile. “I don’t regret having Declan, or getting back together with you,” you assured him, as you took his hand into your lap. “I just wish it all happened a little differently,” you added, as you turned his hand over to interlace your fingers with his. “That maybe I could have kept even a scrap of my dignity. Maybe I should’ve been like Nada,” you huffed a bitter laugh. “And had enough self-respect to tell you off and walk away.”
“You still could,” he offered. “I would understand,” he assured, as he looked cautiously to you. “You may not be able to return to the Waking World, but I could build you and Declan a home, anywhere you’d like in the realm, and I’d never bother you. The damage I’ve caused you is irreparable. You’ll always bear it and it’ll only worsen if you stay here with me.”
“It’s not about where I am,” you explained. “Even when I was in the Waking World, I couldn’t escape what happened. I – I had the lights on 24/7 because I was so scared to surrounded by darkness again, I had to have the TV on because I could bear the sound of silence, and I ate that porridge for months because I was so used to it.” You sighed and leaned forward to wipe the tears from his face. He leaned into your touch and it broke your heart. “But I had to deal with it all on my own back then,” you added, softly. “I have you now, and seeing how much you care about me, how much you regret what you’ve done really has helped.”
“Does it really help?” He asked, in a small voice. “Having me with you?”
“Well, I used to cry myself to sleep every night back then,” you recounted. “And now, this is the first time I’ve cried in months. So, yeah, I’d say that’s an improvement,” you joked. It didn’t seem to lift his spirits or convince him in any way, so you continued in a more genuine way to reassure him. “I could never leave you, anyway,” you sighed, and a sad smile ghosted over your face. “I love you too much. And I’d hate myself far more if I left you.”
He looked at you for a moment as he considered the weight of your words and the truth to them. “What do we do, then?” He wondered. “If you can no longer respect yourself for staying with me, but you’d hate yourself for leaving?”
“I don’t know,” you realized. “Maybe we just keep going, and hope that along the way, it doesn’t feel as bad. And we agree,” you turned to look directly at him as you squeezed his hand. “That even if things get really bad, even if we’re really hurting, we don’t push each other away. Because I know I’d be far more miserable without you, Dream. I was far more miserable without you.”
The months afterwards seemed to pass the way they had before you rediscovered your stone room. Taking your words to heart, he trusted that you wouldn't leave him, but he still worked desperately to give you every reason to stay.
You woke at the instant you felt him shift in the bed. You reached forward then, your arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him towards you.
“No,” you grumbled, as you turned your face against his back and wrapped your leg around him.
He chuckled softly, before letting the covers fall over him again. “You do know I have a realm to oversee?” He asked, as he craned his head to glance slightly at you.
“You also have a wife to hold,” you reminded him, your grip on him only tightening as your arm and leg pulled him flush against you.
His arm went to rest over yours and he took your left hand in his, eyeing the ring he had placed there only a few weeks ago. “Five more minutes,” he conceded and you agreed with a contented hum, though he knew you wouldn’t let go of him for at least another ten minutes.
And at the end of those ten minutes, when he shifted to move from the bed once again, your arm trailed down from his waist, your fingertips grazing lightly over his chiseled abdomen, before dipping even lower to wrap around his length. His breath hitched, his eyes shooting open at the contact, before trying admirably to keep his voice even and determined.
“I have duties to attend to,” he managed to grit out, as your leg tightened over his hip, keeping him flush against you as you peppered kisses across the smooth planes of his shoulder blades.
“Go, then,” you whispered, against the shell of his ear. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” you challenged him, as your fingertips ghosted along his hardening length. But his body betrayed whatever words he could utter, as the head of him began to leak and your thumb swiped at the wetness before spreading it along his length.
You bit back the contented moan that threatened to leave you at the feel of him in your hand. You couldn’t see over his shoulder, so you let your hand be your eyes: your fingers slid along the smooth marble that comprised his cock, the velvety head that flared his tip, and you just wanted to taste him. As you felt him harden in your hold, your thigh tensed around his waist as you longed to feel the weight of him, the girth of him inside of you. But the thought of him leaving you to attend his duties had pettiness coursing through your veins and slowing your movements. Your hand moved along him languidly then, but you maintained a tight grip, squeezing in just the right way to have his mouth falling open.
“Little witch,” he spoke, in something between a warning and a plea that you decided to test. Your pace increased infinitesimally, and he knew you would only hasten if he begged you to. You watched over his shoulder as he considered giving in to you, and your coy smile deepened when you caught his throat bobbing.
“Would you like me to stop, Dream?” You asked, innocently, batting your lashes, even though you knew he couldn’t see you. Your pace slowed then, and he forced himself to answer you by shaking his head against the pillow. “What’s that, my love?” You asked, despite watching from behind him with an indescribable sense of achievement as his locks shuffled side-to-side with his shaking head.
“Don’t stop,” he rasped. “Please.” Your hand moved faster upon his length until you felt him swell in your hand. His eyes fluttered closed as the warmth of your hand tightened around him with a welcome speed, but they shot back open as your ministrations slowed unexpectedly.
“But what about your duties?” You wondered with a smirk that soon faltered when a grunt of frustration left his lips as he finally grew tired of your teasing. His hand closed around yours with a force indicative of his impatience before moving your hand up and down upon his length even faster. With your hand pressed between his hand and his cock, you gasped lightly as his grip tightened around your fingers and he used you to achieve his release.
“You never know when to stop, do you, witch?” He gritted out, and you whimpered softly as his irritation began to show in the way his fingertips dug into your hand. You felt his thigh tense under the leg you still had wrapped around him and you inhaled sharply in anticipation as his cock jumped in your hand. But he didn’t spill over your hand then, and you frowned as he released your fingers instead.
He rolled over sharply then, pinning you flat on your back and caging you in below him, as he grabbed your wrists and trapped them above your head with one hand.
“Oh, little witch,” he shook his head as he peered down at your surprise and confusion, before dipping his head low against you. “Do you think I would cum anywhere else when I have you?” He whispered roughly against your ear. You didn’t have even a moment to try and plead your way out of this before he let his frustrations get the best of him.
He pushed through your entrance harshly then, splitting you open in a single, brutal movement that filled you completely. You cried out at the burning stretch, your eyes shut against the pain, and he took pride in the sound as it turned to a low moan and the way you strained against his hold. He held your wrists tighter, pinned your hip harsher then, as you squirmed at the unexpected intrusion with pleading eyes.
Your heavy panting filled his ears and just as your breath began to even, your walls beginning to adjust around him, he pulled out momentarily, only to slam back into with a force that shook the bed.
“Dream!” You cried out, struggling for purchase as he set a brutal pace that was sure to bruise. With your hands pinned above you, you moved to wrap your legs around his waist instead. He longed to pull you down onto his cock, so with a thought, his hand at your wrists was replaced by a strip of satin that kept you pinned down against the bed. “Dream, please,” you whined, as you longed to wrap your hands around his arms or lock them at the back of his neck or anywhere, really, just as long as you could touch him.
“With how you’ve teased me just now,” he whispered roughly, as he leaned forward against your ear. You leaned your face against his, urgently seeking his touch. “Do you truly think you deserve to touch me?”
“Please,” you cried softly, locking your ankles behind him as you desperately sought to pull him in deeper. You rolled your hips against him, begging him wordlessly, before leaning forward to try and kiss him. But he pulled away then, just out of reach and smirking at the saddened tremor of your lip.
“No,” he refused, and you whined softly before resigning to his demands and falling limp against the bed. He reached behind him then to pull your ankles from their locked position at his waist and you whined as the loss of pressure. But he used his new hold to fold your legs in and pin your knees to your chest. He pushed back even deeper into you then and you cried out as he struck the deepest part of you.
He felt you squirm in his hold at his forceful thrust, and he simply held you tighter, eager to leave you with bruises on your hips. He watched your chest rise erratically, the soft, whining moans that rose in pitch with every beautiful whimper that fell from your lips, and he knew your orgasm was just within reach. So he let himself go, spilling into you with one final thrust that was sure to bruise you inside the way his hands had bruised you outside.
His movements stilled then, as his breath evened, and your eyes fluttered open in silent confusion as your orgasm remained just out of reach.
He sighed contentedly as he pulled out of you, before using one hand to push your knees in towards you and put your ruined cunt on full display for him. He watched intently as his release trickled out of you, and you whined softly as you felt your climax fall away. He swiped at the thick droplet that dared escape from you and placed it at your lips. You stared up at him as you parted your lips and took his finger into your mouth before licking it clean for him. The corner of his mouth twitched as he realized how he had you wrapped around his finger, both literally and figuratively.
He shifted away from you then, and you watched him with disbelief parting your lips and widening your eyes.
“Where are you going?!” You called out, incredulously, as you watched him rise from the bed and move towards his dressing chambers. Your legs fell down from their pinned position at your chest as you sat up slightly to watch him leave you.
“I have duties to attend to,” he reminded you, and the length of satin at your wrists dissipated as he returned with his clothes in hand. He smirked lightly at the disappointed expression you wore as you watched him clothe himself. You watched his cock disappear beneath black boxers and you couldn’t help the soft, disappointed cry that slipped from your mouth. You looked up to plead with him, but when you caught the self-satisfied expression he wore, you pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes.
“Fine, go,” you huffed, as you turned on your side, facing away from him. Your thighs rubbed inwardly and you winced at the slight ache and the sticky essence of him that reminded you that while he had finished, he intended to punish you for your earlier teasing by ensuring that you did not. He finished dressing with a thought then, frowning at the way you seemed to give up so easily.
He watched your silent, angered form carefully, before approaching your turned back. “I’ll see you and Declan for breakfast later?” He checked slowly, and when you didn’t respond, he placed a hesitant hand on your shoulder.
“Go tend to your duties, Dream Lord,” you spat, as you twisted out of his grasp, without turning to him.
“Dear witch, I didn’t mean to upset you so,” he apologized softly, before lifting the covers and sliding back into the bed behind you. His clothes vanished in an instant, and his arm snaked over your waist to reach for your hand, but you pulled it from his grip.
He knew your anger was legendary and your ability to hold a grudge impressive, even to him, so he sought to dissipate your fury before it grew out of control and he found himself deprived of you. So he wrapped his arm around your waist, just as you had done to him earlier, and paused to see if you would deny him the contact. When you made no attempt to stop him, his hand slid down your hip, his fingers pressing gingerly at the inside of your sticky thighs.
“May I?” He asked, softly, as his fingers slid inwards before tracing along your leaking slit.
“What about your duties?” You scoffed lightly, but your resolve wore thinner by the second as his fingers delved between your folds and toyed with your clit.
“They can wait,” he assured you, as he pressed harshly against you, eliciting a soft gasp as you felt his renewed erection at your back. “At the moment, I have a wife to please,” he gritted out as his arm moved from within you to close around your waist and pull you even tighter against him.
“Then go ahead,” you told him, as you rolled over to face him with a coy smile playing on your lips and your hands on his chest. “Please me.”
He rolled you over onto you back then, settling between your legs with one hand on your hip and the other holding your face delicately before leaning down to pepper soft kisses over your face. You giggled softly at the feather-light touches and the sound relieved him.
“Are you still upset with me, my love?” He smiled, before leaving a kiss on your nose.
“Yes,” you lied, biting your lip to keep a smile from forming. He trailed a line along your jaw with his lips, and your hands moved to sift through his dark locks.
“Even now?” He wondered, his eyes connecting with yours as his other hand traced around your dripping core. You gasped softly at the caress and he knew he’d won you over.
“Yes,” you insisted, despite the way your thighs tensed. “You were about to leave me here,” you reminded him. “Of course I’m still upset.”
“I see,” he hummed, before pulling his hand from your face to open you up wider for him. He entered you slowly, pushing through his previous release and watching as it seeped slowly from you at his intrusion. He watched your head fall back and a soft breath of amusement left him at the moan that fell from your open mouth as he filled you. “And now?”
“Yes,” you rushed, closing your eyes and trying desperately to maintain your displeased expression despite the inexplicably perfect way he stretched you open. You clenched around him desperately though, your need for him disputing any words you could possibly utter. Your pleasure returned to you quickly, and with the way he had denied you earlier, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you came.
He withdrew from you then, and you leaned up, watching nervously to ensure that he wasn’t going to leave you again. But he thrust into you again with a force that caught you off guard and stole your breath.
“I’m not leaving, my love,” he assured you, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. “Not until you admit that you’re no longer angry with me,” he informed you, before pinning your hips tightly to the bed and picking up with a brutal pace. You yelped in surprise at the first thrust at this new speed, and your hands shot out to grip his biceps to steady you. You bit back the moan that you knew would feed directly into his ego and convince him that you had forgiven him so easily. But he caught the way you squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip, so he thrust into you even harsher then, and a strangled whimper fell from your lips. You squeezed the taut muscle of his arms with an iron grip as you cried out and came in a shaking mess around him.
He waited for your breath to even and your hold on his arms to loosen before brushing your hair from your face gently. “Are you still upset, dear witch?” He asked softly, with a knowing smile as he watched you come down from your high.
You opened your eyes slowly to find him peering down at you with soft words and an adoring gaze. But then you remembered how he had almost left you here with sticky thighs, an aching core, and no prospect of release, and you steeled your expression while pressing your fingertips into his arms.
“Yes,” you maintained, with determined eyes and a conviction that surprised him. He had expected you to call it even after achieving your release, but your willfulness seemed to fuel your petty conviction.
“Is that so?” He challenged, watching as you pursed your lips and nodded. He picked up his pace again, his hips snapping against yours with a force that was certain to bruise. You were already so sensitive, still sore from the first time this morning he had penetrated you, but you refused to give him any sense of satisfaction. So despite the way your walls strained around him and your abdomen ached as your pleasure built, you grit your teeth and let him fuck you in an attempt to return to your good graces.
“Y-yes!” You squealed, amid the shaking of the bed frame the obscene sound of skin against skin. He pushed even deeper into you, and you bit your lip against the moan you knew would escape you when he struck your cervix. He shook his head lightly at the way you squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip all to avoid giving in to him. He struck the same delicate spot again and a strangled whimper sounded from you as you came once again, leaving you a pathetic, whining mess beneath him.
He peered down at you, silently awaiting your words of concession, as you fell from this climax. Your breath evened once again, your eyes fluttered open, but no words of concession came, and he sighed softly at your stubbornness. He reached for your thigh then, and you inhaled sharply as you realized his next move.
“Admit that you’re not angry with me,” he challenged, as his eyes connected with yours. You watched him carefully for a moment, weighing the possible defeat against the devastation another orgasm would cause you. He caught the indecision in your eyes and leaned his forehead gently against yours. “Admit that you could never be angry with me, my love,” he whispered softly. The act was so delicate, so gentle compared to the brutal way he was putting you through orgasm after orgasm, and you longed to embrace more of tenderness. But something inside of you refused to let him win.
So you simply shook your head, before looking up at him with fortitude burning your eyes. “I’m still angry with you, Dream,” you insisted. “And I will always be angry with you when you threaten to leave me like that.”
“Oh, little witch,” he sighed, as he shook his head at your insults and futile conviction. His hand went to your face and you frowned at the caring act, before he thumbed away at the tears you hadn’t noticed crying. “I assure you, those won’t be the last tears you cry if you continue this,” he warned.
He hitched your leg over his shoulder then, and you cried out as he folded you in half, slamming into that spongy spot inside of you with an accuracy that had his threat actualized.
“Dream!” You wept, and the tears streaked down your face, as your core ached with a frustrating mix of pleasure and pain. Your hands went to tangle in his hair and you pulled weakly at his tresses, begging him wordlessly for some form of relief.
“Are you still angry with me?” He gritted, as you heard a crack you were certain was the splitting of the bedframe. You squeezed your eyes shut, but he pressed continuously at that perfect place inside of you and your eyes shot open. The unyielding look in his eyes had you whining petulantly as you realized he could keep this up far longer than you could.
Your lip trembled and your body burned at his relentless pace, but you just couldn’t let him get away with this. “Yes, y-yes!” You cried, pushing forward despite your revelation, and at the sight of the excessive tears this overstimulation was causing you, he actually considering stopping. But he slammed particularly forcefully into you then, and the resulting sob was too beautiful for him to pass up. So he willed the bedframe whole, conveying to you that nothing could save you from this.
“Are you certain, little witch?” He wondered, condescendingly, as you looked up at him through your teary eyes with a quivering lip. A deflating sigh left him as you nodded your head, wordlessly expressing your refusal to give in to him. He pulled out of you then, and a relieved sigh left you as your heart rate and breathing began to stabilize.
Your slowly closing lids shot open when his hand gripped your hip tightly before tossing you over on your stomach. Your hands moved to prop yourself up before he slipped inside of you once again, but he was faster. He pushed through the mix of your arousals as he entered you roughly and you couldn’t help but cry petulantly at the thought of him putting you through another orgasm. He kept you tight against him with his hold on your hips and your body slacked in his hold.
Kneeling behind you didn’t give him a very good look or your face or, but if the pathetic whine that seeped from your lips as he pushed through your swollen folds was any indication, you wouldn’t last much longer. He pistoned into you, meticulously striking that spot that had you whimpering and crying out for him.
“Dream, please,” you sobbed, clutching desperately at the sheets beneath your palms, as you felt your pleasure build exponentially. Every touch was too much, your body far too sensitive for the brutal way he was bruising your hips or the unrelenting way he slammed into you repeatedly.
“Aren’t you still angry with me?” He wondered, as he held himself deep within you. “Because you don’t sound particularly angry,” he smirked, at the whimpering sounds of your defeat.
“No!” You wept finally, and his hold loosened. “I’m not angry with you,” you sobbed, quietly, and he rewarded you by fucking you slower then, moving with smoother thrusts, highly aware of your oversensitivity. “God, no, Dream, I love you,” you moaned, as he eased out of you. “Fuck, Dream, I love you so much,” you breathed, as he pushed gently through your swollen folds to press against that perfect spot with a feather-light touch. Your head fell back with a soft, extended moan that made him smile.
“I know, little witch,” he whispered, as he smoothed back your hair. “Just as I love you,” he sighed. You reached one hand back to tug at his locks in a wordless reply to his sweet sentiments. His hands returned to your hips and he gradually picked up his pace until you were coming yet again, as a shaking, mewling mess around his cock. He emptied into you as you tightened around him, pulling every ounce from him desperately. You fell limp in his arms as he withdrew from you, and he placed you delicately against the bed, facing him.
“Are you alright, my love?” He murmured, as he brushed the tears from your face. You simply nodded, far too tired to speak, or even open your eyes. He smiled softly at the exhaustion you wore, before pulling you in to him. You whined softly as he pressed inadvertently at the still-forming bruises on your hip and he apologized quickly as he withdrew his hand from you. You moved closer to him with your eyes still closed and buried your face in his chest just the way he had wanted.
His hand went to your back then, rubbing soothing circles there as he hummed contentedly at the feeling of you in his arms. His duties could wait, he decided as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, for as long as you needed him.
“Dream?” You wondered, softly, as you pulled away from his chest to look up at him with concern knitting your brows together, and he frowned at the uncertainty you wore. “Were you really going to leave me like that?” You asked, quietly.
“With how you tested my patience earlier? Yes,” he confirmed, and your gaze dipped low. He sighed then, and his hand moved to your cheek to raise your gaze to his. “But then you were so upset and I couldn’t stand the thought of you angry with me,” he admitted, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.
“So, I just have to pout and pretend to be mad at you and you’ll do whatever I want?” You wondered, with a slow smile. He blinked at you and you grinned as you both realized you were right. “I am definitely keeping that in mind,” you assured him.
“I really wish you wouldn’t,” he pleaded, hesitant to let you know exactly what kind of power you held over him.
“Oh, that is too bad,” you laughed, as you leaned up to brush your nose against his. “I am so using that against you,” you teased, before planting your lips on his.
“He seems sort of lonely, doesn’t he?” You spoke up after a moment. Dream turned to you with a frown, before looking back to Declan, who was petting Goldie. “I mean, sure he’s got us, and Goldie,” you gestured to the gargoyle. “And Matthew, and Lucienne, and yada yada yada, but he hasn’t got many friends his own age.”
“He interacts with child dreamers every now and then,” Dream remarked. “And he still sees Sara from the park.”
“Yeah, but that’s only for a few hours. Otherwise, he’s hanging out with grown-ups most of the day,” you explained. “I don’t know, I think he could benefit from hanging out with other children.”
“I suppose so,” Dream hummed, as he considered how to fulfill your request. A silence filled the space between you on the bench, and you spoke up again with a similar unprompted remark.
“And he’s an only child,” you blurted out. “Only children are weird, you know,” you nodded, with raised brows as you glanced over at Dream. “I had a friend who could tell after one conversation with someone if they were an only child. There’s always something off about them.” You rambled, and Dream watched you carefully. “And they don’t learn to share. Or they get spoiled. I mean, he’s already basically a prince, Dream,” you explained. “Do you want Declan to be spoiled, too?”
He peered at you for a moment, with slightly narrowed eyes. He recalled how your exhaustion had caused you to sleep in far more than usual, how limited your appetite had become, and lately, how you had forgone any wine.
You caught his suspicious glance with wide eyes, so you turned then, clearing your throat and trying to assume a nonchalant expression. After a moment, you glanced back towards him to find him still watching you.
“Little witch,” Dream began, a smile playing on his lips as he looked to you, slowly. “Do you have something to tell me?”
“No,” you scoffed, defensively, but mostly out of habit at his smug tone. He peered at you with a knowing look and you sighed, “Yes.” Your gaze dipped from his and you rolled your lip between your teeth. “I um, I think I might be pregnant,” you finally admitted with a breath of disbelief. You hadn’t had to admit it to him the first time around, so you weren’t really sure how to go about it now. “Is – is that okay?” You asked, uncertainty shaking your voice as you finally looked up at him.
“Oh, my love,” he sighed, shaking his head lightly at you before pulling you to his lips. He moved urgently against you, as though he were trying to communicate every ounce of excitement, and pride, and joy your news brought him. “It’s wonderful,” he breathed, as he pulled away to watch you smile, at ease now that you had unburdened yourself. His other hand moved lower, sliding down to your midsection, where you would be showing in a few months’ time. Your hand moved over his, your fingers interlacing with his over your belly, before you leaned up to kiss him.
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