#summary: Hob cheats on his partner with Dream

[valeriianz]

You always push people away. I just thought you'd never do that to me.

Or

I never meant to hurt you.

(From Hit 'em where it hurts sentence prompts!)

human au. CW: infidelity. some spice.

EDIT: expanded on Ao3!

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“This needs to stop, Dream.”

Dream blinks as he looks down the bed at Hob, who’s sitting on the edge, fully dressed and far out of Dream’s reach. 

“What?” Dream mumbles, sitting up against the headboard and rubbing the gunk from his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Hob takes a long breath, holding it. Like he’s preparing himself for a fight. Dream blinks again and fully takes in Hob. The t-shirt that he had ripped off him last night. The leather belt holding up Hob’s jeans that they’d used once or twice, tying Dream to the headboard and Hob raveging his body while all Dream could do was pull at his restraints and make noises no other man had managed out of him. 

His gaze travels down and Dream’s heart gives a painful lurch at the sight of Hob’s wedding ring on his left hand. 

“What’s going on?” Dream dares to ask, his voice unrecognizable even in his own ears.

It’s agony that Hob doesn’t turn his head. Doesn’t even acknowledge Dream.

“You heard me. I’m–” Hob takes another rattling breath, his head dipping down towards his chest. “I’m leaving.”

Dream’s entire body goes cold but he yanks the duvet off him anyway, crawling up behind Hob.

“No.”

Hob gives a breathless laugh, disbelieving, bitter.

Dream gets a hand on Hob’s shoulder. “I won’t let you.”

Hob finally turns his head and the look he levels Dream with breaks his heart.

His eyes are pleading. They also shine, like Hob’s on the verge of tears. Dream swallows a lump in his throat, desperation clawing up through his chest and knotting itself there.

Hob was married.

It was never a problem for Dream. They’d met at a bar and it was so obvious Hob had just stormed out after a fight. Dream was happy to be his distraction. To be a toy that this handsome, sad stranger could use over and over again.

Only after the first time, it became an addiction for both of them.

Hob came back to that bar a week later, looking for Dream. And Dream had been so flattered, so fucking smug about it that he’d popped a boner right there, smirking in victory as Hob pushed him into the bathroom and railed him within an inch of his life. They’d almost snapped the sink off the wall of that establishment. 

Dream never considered himself a “home-wrecker,” especially when it appeared Hob had no home to eviscerate. He never spoke of his unhappy marriage and Dream never asked, only offered up his body and his comfort and… over time, his home and his kisses and then coffee, dinner, and–

And then three months went by and Dream fell in love.

But Hob never left his wife.

Dream had hoped… selfishly, in the back of his head, that Hob would choose him. Would invite him back to his house, the home he’d shared with his wife, and remodel it with tales of their love. Of their passion and interests and early mornings lazing naked in bed, tea in their hands as Dream snuggled up to him and allowed himself the crazy concept of being in love and someone loving him in return.

Dream refused to believe that would never happen. 

“It was never meant to go this far,” Hob finally speaks again, his voice thick, quiet.

A high pitched ringing filled Dream’s ears, deafening him

“I never meant to hurt you–”

“Stop.” Dream takes a breath and it rattles down his lungs. “Stop talking.”

Hob’s brows knit together, agony written all over his face and Dream has to look away. He can feel his ears getting hot, tears welling up in his own eyes.

After a painful stretch of silence, Dream finally swings his gaze back to Hob, swallowing and forcing himself to speak.

“What’s her name?”

Something cracks in Hob’s expression and he levels Dream with a serious look.

“Dream–”

“What’s her fucking name?”

“Eleanor.” Hob responds with just as much venom, his lips parted, breathing through them. “And I told her everything.”

Dream huffs out a sarcastic breath. “You love her?”

He’s glaring at Hob now, forcing anger into his voice, into his body. Pushing down the anguish and the desperation. The wild, pathetic need to beg and plead and scream his case. Stay with me. Stay with me. Don’t leave me.

But Hob was never his. And when he opens his mouth again, the truth slams into Dream like a nail in a coffin.

“Yes.”

Hob stands and Dream lets his hand slide off him, landing onto the bed with finality.

“And we’re going to overcome this. We’re going to make it work.”

Dream couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“And you came over last night to– what? Get one last fuck in? From your side bitch?”

Hob flinches and he looks away. Good, thinks Dream. Clearly he was nothing more to Hob than that. Surely. After all this time…

“I came to tell you…” he takes a breath, eyes landing on Dream again. 

Dream doesn’t miss the way Hob’s gaze rakes down his naked form, sitting in a tangle of his own legs on the bed, looking up at Hob with what he’s sure is wild hair made from Hob’s own fingers gripping and pulling it. If Dream were to close his eyes, he could probably still feel it; Hob’s strong hands, bigger than his own, yanking Dream’s head back as he latched his teeth onto his neck. One final claim that wasn’t Hob’s to give.

Unconsciously, Dream moved his hand to rub at the spot on his neck, hiding it.

“But then what?” Dream taunts, raising an eyebrow. “You got distracted?”

Hob shakes his head, closing his eyes and smiling derisively, self-deprecating.

Dream surges up, gets his hands on Hob’s shoulders and shoves. Hob lands against the wall opposite them with a surprised cough and Dream marches forward and takes Hob’s face in both his hands and pries his mouth open with his tongue.

Hob’s hands fly to Dream’s shoulders, up his neck, and into his hair as he kisses back just as ferociously. Jaw dropping and moaning as Dream slots his front against Hob’s, pushing him further into the wall as he punishingly consumes Hob from the inside out. 

It’s all teeth and tongue and Dream chokes back on a sob at the desperate way Hob holds on to him, how he bites and snarls back, spinning them around and crowding Dream against the wall instead.

Dream whines as Hob bites his bottom lip and rolls his hips, his erection straining through his jeans rubbing against his own in delirious friction. And Dream hates it. He hates Hob.

“You’ll never be rid of me, Hob Gadling,” Dream purrs in his ear, biting it.

Hob goes very still in Dream’s hold and Dream almost laughs. He wishes he could. He’d laugh and laugh and laugh until he was screaming.

“No,” Hob agrees, breathless. He finally pulls back. He stares at Dream, pupils dilated, chest heaving. “You have a piece of my heart.”

He brings a hand up and presses his thumb against Dream’s bottom lip. Dream wants to bite it. Wants to push him off. Wants wants wants.

Hob takes a breath, finally, truly, stepping away from Dream. His hands drop to his sides. 

“But you’ll never have all of it.

(thank you @seiya-starsniper for helping me figure this out) angst prompts