Day 29 - Unlimited
[AO3]
2022 Dreamling this time! From @windsweptinred’s post! 1389 Hob/2022 Dream | 2022 Hob/1389 Dream
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Dream shivers, new-old memories swirling through his mind as he takes a deep breath, still sitting on the spot where ― Hob, from when they first met, appeared in the New Inn, gripping the back of the chair tight enough to put dents in it, the veil over him a reprieve, though―even with the veil, he can feell eyes on him. Swallowing, he turns around, seeing Hob’s ― the Hob of this century ― eyes on him, in the same clothes he was in when they met in the past―
Body still shivering from the rough orgasm, he can only watch as Hob walks up to him, eyes black as Hob swoops down, hands holding his face as they kiss desperately, “what the fuck,” Hob asks between biting kisses, and Dream holds onto his shoulders, whining, getting his sand out with a shaking hand to spirit them upstairs. “I really should,” Hob groans as he’s pushed down onto the bed.
“You should finish what you started,” he breathes, feeling unhinged as his coat is taken off, desperation and affection unlimited but overflowing as their clothes get taken, or in Hob’s case, ripped off.
“I did!” Hob squeaks, and there’s a groan of annoyance as they slip off their shoes, “but I was on holiday! Am I in the right time frame still?” Hob complains, searing hands going into his hair and pulling him down for a deep kiss.
“Later,” Dream growls, moaning as his clit brushes Hob’s dick, hard and leaking against him.
“Later,” Hob wheezes, a hand trailing down his body, fingers going into the folds of his clit. “Fuck,” Hob’s cock twitches against him, leaking steady with pre-come and Dream huffs, pulling the other’s hand away to lick and suck the fingers, tasting himself and Hob, and Hob swears again, gaping up at him.
Hob’s other hand grabs his hip tightly, and Dream hums as he looks down, Hob’s fingers in his throat as he guides Hob’s cock to his cunt, moaning loudly at the feeling, just as good as it was in 1389. Hob’s eyes widen even more, dick twitching as Dream takes him to the hilt.
There’s a string of sounds from Hob, consonants and vague swears, probably, and Dream sighs, cunt wet as he lifts himself up, then back down, rhythm slow even with all the desperation and fizzling pleasure clawing at his insides.
“Dream,” Hob begs, hand on his hip bruising and dick twitching even more, “I’m not going to,” Hob pants, fingers in his mouth pulling him down to a messy kiss as he rocks onto Hob.
“Then don’t,” he purrs, Hob’s now free hand going to his other hip, and Dream moans as Hob changes the rhythm, faster and frenzied. The bliss, engulfs him, another orgasm close as Hob bites his neck, marks blooming from Hob’s teeth as they go down to lick a nipple, and he whines, squeezing Hob’s cock tightly ― and Hob whimpers as he comes, which is what gives Dream another orgasm, melting on top of Hob as they pant against each other.
“Is now ‘later’ enough?” Hob asks eventually, voice rough and deep, and Dream does a considering hum, feeling their fluids leaking out of his cunt, feeling Hob’s softening cock inside ― and presses down. Hob whimpers.
“Definitely not.”
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Prompt 124
Bruce crouched next to the small child that had been bounding around for the last few months healing people, watching idly as they scribbled on a paper with quiet chirps. Spirit, the rest of Gotham had named them, Spirit and their Sister.
“Hi Mr. Bat!” The child beamed from behind the mask when they finally looked up, burn scar stretching slightly.
He ignored the gibbering man in the corner, at least for now, seeing as he’d just arrived. “Is your sister around?” The other, well he wouldn’t call them vigilantes seeing as the kids (He’d be surprised if Sister was an adult) focused more on evacuation or healing, but it was the closest word.
“Nope!” the child put their crayons away in one of the many pockets inside the almost victorian-styled coat, one of the reasons they’d gotten their name. “Uncle Kerian is watchin’ me tonight, ‘cause Sister is busy.”
“Uncle?”
“Uncle!”
Bruce could be forgiven for the startled wheeze when the literal shadows twisted and ripped, a pair of Lazarus-green eyes- or whatever they were- gleaming from the darkness, dark hair twisting as sharp teeth similar to the siblings’ were bared in very open warning. As if the giant flaming sword wasn’t enough of a warning already.
Ah. That’s who had traumatized the several would-be kidnappers then.
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