seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Estonia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from United States
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@gentlexdead -- continued from x.
“A story, you say?” This was, perhaps, one of Dreamfinder’s favorite pastimes. Storytelling came naturally to him. He would certainly take any chance he could to exploit it. “All right, sir. I’ll give you a story, and a fine one at that. What genre would it be? How about fantasy? A mystery? Or, my personal favorite, a tale of gruesome, flesh-tingling horror?”
‘ I don’t want to be afraid. ’
HOUSE OF MEMORIES.
William looked to Jonathan with a soft smile, reaching out to pet the other man’s hair, threading his fingers through it. “I don’t want you to ever be afraid, love. If you are simply tell me and I will alleviate it to the best of my abilities. For now, let us sit here and eat marshmallows by the fire and talk of better times.”
℧
William tries to tell Jonathan that ‘It isn’t what it looks like, I swear!’
William enjoyed his alone time, especially after a long day’s work. He entered his home and took his time getting himself food and seeing to his cat before retiring to his room.
Once there he was meticulous in stripping down to nothing, folding the bed covers down and slipping inside. He groaned softly at his silk sheets, loving the feel of them against his bare skin. The sheet tangled in his legs, giving him the most delightful goose flesh as he rubbed his calf and thighs against his. He ran his hand along the smooth fabric, turning this way and that to relieve the stress of the day. Soon he was nearly writhing on the bed, the duvet now on the floor, and William moaned at the feeling of the silk against his skin.
He slipped his hand down his chest and stomach, caressing the erection that had formed between his thighs. He wrapped the silk around it and stroked. When the door opened to reveal Jonathan, eyes wide with realisation over what William was doing.
“J-Jonathan…This isn’t what it looks like, I swear!”
"Admit it; I'm just an embarrassment to you."
“Absolutely not, love. If anything you are the best thing to come out of this hellish purgatory.”
🔪
William’s eyes widened, tears coming to his eyes. “Wh-Why...”
☁︎ ✑
☁︎-- A dream (or nightmare) about your muse. ✑ -- Something my muse has written about your muse. ( Could be a letter, drawing, etc. )
William always has the most vivid dreams, he keeps them in a journal, one of many, that sits by his bed. Some mornings he spends a good deal of time before getting ready cataloging the details of his subconscious. Last night's dream had been particularly lovely. The sky was a pretty cerulean, clouds as white as snow, and there had been a light breeze blowing to keep the occupants of the small field comfortable in the sun's warm gaze. William had turned to look at his companion who's light hair shone brilliantly in the sunlight. "Jonathan," he breathed, fingers entwining with the other's in the tall soft grass. "My Jonathan." When the other turned to smile at him that's when he awoke.
"I had a sex dream about you last night."
William smiled softly, leaning his head against Jonathan's shoulder as he sat next to him on the sofa. "Did you?" he whispered in his ear. "Can you describe it for me?"
└
William remained calm at the dinner knife in his hand. "Jonathan, breathe, it's me, your William. Please remove the knife from my hand."
