#modern Hob of course will be unbearably ashamed later for this dream

[yourchocolatenachostudent]

No really important information, just a moment of smut headcanon about this Hob with this Morpheus.

Warning!: dubcon (?)

Hob sincerely doesn't understand what is happening to him today.

Hob is really fascinated by this stranger with his passionate studying gaze and sly smile, so he doesn't wait a hundred years to get acquainted and follows him right after their short conversation, catching up with the mysterious man at the door and not letting him leave the tavern.

Usually he doesn't molest either men or women, or anyone else, especially so persistently and impudently. He is a bandit, not a rapist, although often men in his village prefer to combine this. But the ale is noisy in his head and boils in his blood, and the handsome stranger doesn't resist, only looks at him so attentively and mockingly. Arrogant and contemptuous, he looks at Hob as if he is a worm under his feet. And something in Hob's mind clicks because of this, he just gets angry and doesn't notice how at some moment the stranger is under him, pressed against the nearest table covered with bread crumbs.

No one stands up for an unusual man, doesn't push Hob away from him. Not even shouts of approval or rude condemning words are heard. And only then does Hob realize that the tavern is completely empty. There is no one else besides them. Besides them and the silence, broken only by their ragged breathing.

The stranger remains silent, but the caustic smile has disappeared from his lips, the sharp look has been replaced by a wary one, and his hands wrapped around the shoulders of the man hanging over him.

It takes only a few seconds, seemingly an eternity, before Hob presses a demanding kiss to the stranger's lips. His long cassock is pulled up, gathered at the hips because of Hob's greedy hands, which immediately rush to explore the soft sensitive skin under it. The skin, not covered with anything but a rough cloth. No underwear, no trousers, just a naked pale body trembling under Hob's calloused palms.

The submissiveness of a stranger makes him mad. He sincerely doesn't understand why this sweet creature has so much trust in the person he sees for the first time. And even to someone who looks so terrible.

Shaggy oily hair, dirty clothes. Hob even smells disgusting, he can honestly admit it. Sour ale, greasy stains, strong echoes of smoke. But stranger smells delightful. Petrichor, cold sand, leather and, it seems, flowers? Not at all what you usually expect to find in the 14th century.

He is a terrible animal compared to him now, and he really feels shame, but also a greedy unbearable desire.

Therefore, very soon their bodies intertwine, and then the stranger moans and whines quietly, and clings to Hob as if he is the whole world and the meaning of his entire life, while he is busy, leaving kisses on his body, neck, beautiful scarlet lips. But to be fair, Hob admits that this stranger has become the meaning of his life, too.

At the same time, Morpheus observes from his world of this shameless and absolutely indecent dream of sleeping Hob and, after a short reflection, comes to the conclusion that he will definitely have to return the clothes of 1389 to his wardrobe.

⠀

The original text was really good, but the translation killed everything. I really tried to make the translation as accurate as possible, but I'm still absolutely not sure about some fragments.