#warprize Hob

[five-and-dimes]

Sunbeam

Part 1 of 4

Using the Dreaming Bingo Adoptable prompt: Cat Ears

Rating: M

Ship: Dreamling

Warnings: Past abuse (not explicit, just implied past warprize things)

Additional Tags: Cat!Dream, Cow!Hob, King/warprize, hurt/comfort

Summary: King of the cow Kingdom, Hob is given a cat person as a warprize, and he'd give him the very sun if he could. But perhaps some sunbeams will be good enough.

Read on AO3

It takes a village to make an au like this- It all started on our fav @gabessquishytum 's blog (specifically these posts), plus a lot of inspo from discord, and Hob's design based on the amazing art of @amielot. Thanks for feeding my obsession with this au, friends! 🤘

~~~

By the time Hob makes it back to his room, finally released from a dull morning council meeting, it is nearly afternoon. And Dream is kneeling on the floor.

It’s been a little over a week since King Hob was gifted the cat person now staying in his private chambers. When Dream had been presented to him, Hob remembers feeling a mix of emotions- rage and sorrow and confusion and offense. The bovine kingdom did not trade in people. 

(Not anymore.)

He had wanted to refuse the ‘gift’ out of principle. But he had looked down at the wounded, far too thin creature in front of him and knew immediately that he could not let him go back with his captors. So he had accepted the offering with the minimal amount of politeness to not start a war. He had beckoned the cat to him, and learned that his name was Dream, and that he was too weak to make it up the stairs to Hob’s room. His body was withered and wasted, starved and neglected, even a short walk leaving him panting and shaking. Hob had waved the guards away and lifted him up into his own arms to carry him the rest of the way.

Dream had trembled against him, no matter how Hob tried to reassure him. Part of him still wonders if it was a mistake to bring the poor man into Hob’s own chambers, to lay him on his own soft bed when his fears were so obvious. But Hob could not bear the thought of leaving him alone and scared in some strange room in the palace. In truth, he wanted desperately to care for him himself. Some part of his heart had been given to the cat the moment Hob saw him, and he was determined to see him healed. 

The first night was hard, and Dream continued shivering even as he drank from Hob’s chest, falling into a fitful sleep in Hob’s bed after being tugged away guiltily to ensure he didn’t make himself sick drinking too much too fast. In the days since, Hob has left him in his room as he went about his business throughout the day, returning to check on him and feed him, and always finding him in the exact spot on the bed where he left him. Until today.

It had been raining for much of the week, but today the sun was streaming through the open windows, the light falling vibrantly across the floor in the center of the bedroom. Dream was crouched at the edge of the thick rug placed beneath the bed, reaching one long arm out to dip just the very tips of his fingers into the light, his face full of equal parts longing and trepidation. 

It is a look Hob remembers on his own face when he was a young calf, sneaking into his mother’s study and standing on the tips of his hooves to admire her golden collar and bell. He would tap it, giggling at the heavy chime, feeling mischievous as he imagined a day in the future when the beautiful adornment would be passed on to him. He also recalls getting caught, his mother admonishing him sternly yet fondly, and the way he never once felt fear of her.

He put his grimly little child’s hands all over literal gold, and he never felt anywhere near the blatant terror he sees now on Dream’s face at being caught reaching for a sunbeam.

“I apologize, my lord,” Dream scrambled frantically back onto the bed, folding his limbs to kneel and forcing his hands to release his robe, laying them in his lap meekly. It broke Hob’s heart every time, the way he so clearly wanted to hold the robe closed around his body and just as clearly expected it to be torn away from him.

He had been given to Hob naked.

The robe he wore now was meant for a calf, too short and too wide and still the best fit they could find for the cat until the tailors finished the custom robe they were working on. Dream had been near tears when he was presented with something to cover himself, bowing his head and offering anything and everything of himself in thanks. So grateful. All for a robe that didn’t even fit.

Hob approached the bed slowly, smiling gently even when he wanted to cry for the poor creature, “You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart.”

Dream shivered, keeping his gaze downcast, “I should not have moved without your permission, master.” 

Hob flinched at the title. As king he was accustomed to being referred to as lord and sire and majesty- it was only appropriate, and he did expect to be given the respect due his station. But he was no one’s master.

Right now though, he had to choose his battles. “You are free to move about the room, Dream,” it was true that Dream clearly needed rest, but his heart ached to think of Dream sitting stiffly wherever Hob ‘put him’. He turned and gestured at the sunlit spot, “You may even move some of the pillows or blankets from the bed, should you wish to lay in the sun.”

Dream looks horrified at the very idea, ears pinned back in fear, “I would never, sire,” his voice nearly pleading for Hob to believe him, as though he is being tested.

Hob feels his own ears droop, before straightening with resolve. He keeps his motions clear, walking to the bed to gather an armful of pillows. Dream keeps his head down, but his eyes follow Hob’s movements as he begins arranging the pillows on the floor where the sunlight is hitting. He adds a few blankets to the pile too, until he has a little nest in the middle of the room, soft and sunlit. 

Dream still hasn’t moved.

“Come here, Love,” Hob keeps his voice soft and soothing, but Dream still tenses when Hob scoops him up into his arms easily, so frighteningly light, “You must be hungry. Breakfast feels like ages ago.”

As much as Hob wishes he could sustain Dream with his milk alone, they had begun introducing some light foods- small morsels of fish, and select vegetables that the royal librarian deemed safe for cat people- into his breakfast and dinner. In between though, Hob fed him himself. Hob was used to being responsible for an entire kingdom, to making decisions that were far and long lasting and praying that he might make his country even a little bit better each day. And he was proud of his position, he would not trade it for anything. But there was something so special about being able to hold this one person in his arms and see the good he was doing. 

It still took some encouragement. As he settles into the nest, leaning back against the pillows and facing the window so that Dream can sit in his lap in the direct sunlight, Dream is still tense and trembling. Hob shushes him gently, slipping his shirt over his head before placing one hand at the back of Dream’s head to guide him to his chest. He remembers how confused Dream had been the first night when Hob had fed him, opening his mouth wide like he might for a different part of Hob’s body, unsure of what was expected of him. He had allowed himself to be maneuvered without any resistance until Hob was finally able to get a few drops of milk onto his tongue. He had watched as Dream’s eyes had widened, pupils dilating as he licked his lips in something like disbelief. 

After that it was a little easier. He is still nervous and hesitant, but Hob is able to press his mouth to his nipple and say, “Drink,” softly, more of a request than an order even if Dream does not yet recognize it as such. Hob shivers at the sensation as Dream begins to suckle, biting his lip to hold back a groan. He turns his gaze up to the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the sensation. Dream shifts in his lap and Hob has to mentally recite every trade detail he’d been given at his morning meeting in order to restrain himself from moving his hips.

The first night, Dream had looked so resigned when he finally noticed the hard prick in the lap he was sitting on. Hob had just pushed him back, not wanting him to throw up what was most likely the first substantial meal he’d had in who knows how long. He had looked so sorrowful, gazing longingly at Hob’s chest, and then he leaned back and gasped, Hob’s cock hard and hot against his hip. 

He had seemed to wilt, any relaxation Hob had coaxed from feeding him vanished, and he spoke like he was reciting a script, “How shall I repay you, master?”

Hob had felt his blood run cold at the title, “There is nothing to repay, sweet one,” he promised, his smile more of a grimace. Dream had stared at him in blatant disbelief, and as much as Hob wanted to keep holding him, he knew his body’s response was not helping the situation. So he had moved Dream off his lap, tucked him under the bed covers to sleep off his meal, and then gone and taken a long bath to take care of the problem.

It is a routine he has kept ever since. Dream no longer asks what Hob wants in return, though he still looks at him expectantly, and Hob smiles and pets him and then excuses himself to the bath to spend as much time as he needs pleasuring himself. And if he spends that time imagining the soft pads of Dream’s hands, or his sandpaper tongue, or the few glimpses he’s gotten of Dream’s enticingly barbed cock, well, no one needs to know.

Glancing back down at the cat in his arms, Hob is drawn now to Dream’s ears. His own are soft, yes, but they are also thick and sturdy. Dream’s are so thin. Even with the blackness of his fur, the sun seems to shine through at the very tips, a soft glowing pink with little veins just barely visible. Almost without thinking, Hob moves the hand on the back of Dream’s head to lightly grip one ear between his fingers.

Unsurprisingly, Dream startles, a frightened chirp escaping him as he releases Hob’s teat. 

“Shhh,” Hob soothes, nudging Dream back towards his nipple, “It’s alright, you can have some more.” He has to be careful not to let Dream make himself sick, he had been warned by the palace physician what to look out for, but they were nowhere near that point yet. Dream shyly begins suckling again, eyes glancing up at Hob through his eyelashes for approval. “Good boy,” Hob praises, and Dream’s eyes flutter shut, relaxing minutely.

In his hand, he runs his thumb across Dream’s ear. So soft, so delicate and paper thin. He feels a strange compulsion to put it in his mouth. Not to bite, like he did with his playmates growing up- Dream feels too frail for that sort of roughhousing, and Hob does not ever want to hurt him. 

No, he wants to hold his silky ear in his mouth like a delicacy, wants to lick and suck at it as gently as Dream does to his teat until the gossamer fur is wet and warm from his tongue.

For now, he settles for simply rubbing the skin between his fingers, stroking the velvet softness in a feeble attempt to distract himself from his own lust. Eventually, too soon for his or Dream’s liking but in accordance with the doctor, Hob must gently push Dream away, his chest feeling emptier and yet still too full. All he wants is to feed Dream until he is fully sated. It hurts that, for now, he cannot.

Dream has become more accustomed to the routine, and so his whimper is nearly inaudible when leans back in Hob’s lap. Hob can feel the way his ears go from lax contentment to physically pressed down, tense and flat against his head. Or trying to be, at least, in the case of the ear still in Hob’s hand. 

“I’m sorry,” Hob coos, “I know you want more, just have to wait a couple hours, Love.”

“You have been more than generous, master,” Dream replied shakily, and Hob suddenly realizes that he does not want to run away to sequester himself in the baths. 

At the moment, his body is not betraying him, at least not so much that his robes do not hide it. And so he shushes Dream again and turns him in his lap, easy as a doll, until they are both facing the window. He nestles Dream between his thighs, bracketing him between thick, warm fur and tugging him to lean back against the softness of his belly. He feels Dream’s breath hitch as he brings his free hand around to rest softly on the subtle swell of his stomach. 

“Relax,” Hob whispered, one hand on his ear while the other rubbed his stomach soothingly, helping encourage his starved body to digest the meal it’s been given, “Just relax.”

As he strokes Dream’s trembling belly and pets his ear, Hob cannot help but tilt his face into the sun. He thinks perhaps he has taken this warmth and light for granted. How many times has he awoken and scowled at the light streaming across his bed? How often has he walked past these sunbeams, stepped across the warm fibers of his extravagant rug, and not even spared them a glance? Now, feeling his body warm- feeling Dream’s body warm- in the glowing light, he feels a pang of regret that he has not appreciated this simple pleasure before.

Well, he is appreciating it now. He smiles to himself as he feels Dream slowly relax under his ministrations, body melting back against him and sinking into Hob’s abundant, pillowy flesh. Hob thinks that if he could, he would keep Dream here, surrounded by his body, soft and warm, forever. 

Maybe he can’t hold him forever, but he can hold him now. And maybe it is too soon to mouth at Dream’s silky ears and press his tongue to them like a salt lick, but he allows himself to press a fleeting kiss to the one in his hand. 

Dream doesn’t flinch. And that is more than enough for now.

[lenreli]

try a little more (then try a little harder) [Part 2]

[AO3]

E, 3.3k. More of "corporate warprize" because I couldn't stop thinking about them.

[First part] on @cuubism's post!

-

It’s dark, the only light coming from past Hob, and Dream shuts his eyes, resting his head against Hob’s knee, can feel his shins aching with how long he’s been sitting down on them. And above him, the tap-tap-tap of Hob’s fingers on the desk, on hold and― 

Dream bites his tongue, burrowing his face into Hob’s trousers, vibrator inside him ratcheting higher, Dream swallowing down a noise. It presses against his prostate relentlessly as he grabs hold onto Hob’s thigh to stop himself from making a sound, dick pressing against his trouser zipper. 

Hob doesn’t react at all to him, shoes still planted on the floor and Dream shakes his head, pushing away thoughts of grinding himself on the other’s legs, or the pointed shoes, can only take a quiet, deep breath as the vibrator goes back to its lowest setting, Hob’s tapping stopped and the light clunk of the remote control now in the other’s hand. 

Mind frazzled, Dream tries his best to pay attention, Hob wanting him to, even like this. And he tries not to press against Hob’s leg, rutting it against as Hob speaks, ripping into the person on the other end of the line ― with a brutal, businesslike fashion. 

One of the oddest things, Dream finds, is that Hob’s grown something resembling a conscience. He told Matthew of what Hob was like in school, and he couldn’t find fault with the description of would sell his mum to the devil for a corn chip that Matthew had replied with. Even though he conducts business like he did, currently Hob’s ripping into one of their suppliers for their business practices before ending their contract, to go with another supplier instead. 

Taking a deep breath, he inhales Hob’s spicy cologne, and he swallows another sound as the vibrator gets turned up a level, Hob’s voice becoming colder as he talks, discussing contractual loopholes. And Dream aches, wanting Hob to touch him ― a hand in his hair, on his throat, or even pressing his face into the bulge he can see in the other’s trousers. Never considered it before, hands around his throat, digging in, but it’s Hob, and he wants it, can feel his cock leaking as he tries to follow Hob’s words, knowing Hob’s going to quiz him after, wants him to learn. 

That if he’s retained enough, understands it, Hob will let him come. 

The conversation continues, Hob’s tone becoming even more tight with restrained anger, and Dream can tell that it’s not going the way he wants it to, especially with the call ending ― and the phone being slammed down. Hob huffs and gets up, and Dream misses the warmth immediately, misses the way Hob’s words coil under his skin. 

“Out,” Hob orders, Dream pulling himself out by the chair, and he squints at the light. Blinking, he watches as Hob writes on a piece of paper, other hand on his hip as he does. Dream stares at Hob’s face, beard as perfect as ever ― and Dream’s only been able to touch it a few times. Hob scowls, dark eyes freezing him in place. “Apparently the PA is not good enough,” Hob says sardonically. “So you’re going to sort this out. Even gave you what to say,” Hob sighs and starts to walk out the office, door shutting as he opens his phone and Dream blinks. 

Gingerly sitting down on the chair, Dream groans and takes a few more deep breaths, reading over Hob’s writing as he calls back.

-

“And the contract?” Hob asks, a leg crossed over as he watches from the sofa and controller in his hand, currently on it’s highest setting―making Dream whimper, and he pulls his scattered thoughts together as he keeps himself from coming. 

“Gone,” he breathes, gripping his arms tightly. “Hob,” he pleads, “touch me.” 

Hob blinks, expression unchanging, “no troubles?” 

Dream keens, the vibe inside going even higher as he shakes his head, “you,” he wheezes, voice cracking, can feel himself going near the edge, the conversation going painlessly with Hob’s words to follow on the call, “nothing.” 

The vibrations click off and Dream shudders, looking up desperately as Hob stares at him. “Over here,” Hob says quietly, and Dream gets out of the chair, and Dream lets out a sound as Hob unzips his trousers, tugging them and underwear down to reveal a red cock. “Pants off.” 

There’s a scramble of taking off his shoes and trousers, watching with wide eyes as Hob uses a tiny bottle of lube to stroke himself, getting some condoms from his pocket, and Dream tries not to come at the sight. Dream aches, the way that Hob pulls him down onto his lap, and Dream whines at the only feel of skin is Hob’s thighs, hairy and― 

Hob’s fingers reach in to take the vibrator out, making him shudder, clutching at Hob’s black blazer, mind shorting out as Hob’s condom-covered cock enters him easily, “please,” he breathes nosing at the grey of Hob’s temple, down to his beard, and lets out a whine as Hob touches him, condom going over his twitching cock. 

“You did well,” Hob says, a hand mercifully going into his hair, pulling him up and down on Hob’s cock, and it only takes a passes, cock pressing against his prostate, can only gasp and keen as he comes, filling up the condom. 

Dream’s mind is a haze of sensation, shivering of the over-stimulation as Hob continues to fuck him, and Dream moans as Hob bites into his neck, licking up to his jaw as Hob comes. 

Hob’s arms wrap around his waist, and Dream puts his own around the other’s shoulders, relaxing into the post-orgasmic haze , mind clear as Hob noses at his jaw, lightly biting it. 

-

Some things about Hob he gets. The punishment, when he gets things wrong ― or for his hostile takeover. The praise and sex. The way going into it, Hob wanted him to have a safeword, though he can’t imagine using it, the spotlight put on him until he reveals things he won't like in sex, in this.

The way Hob is so affable and friendly, contrasted with the cruel way Hob handles him, gleeful to drive him to madness, to where his only reason to breathe is to follow what Hob says. To hear Hob praise him after, softly stroking his hair and skin once he’s boneless and melting, back to kindness on a twirl of a dime, a mess of contradictions that Dream yearns for.

But as Dream stares at the easel and canvas, at the plethora of paints, the go wild :) on paper, stuck on the canvas in Hob’s writing. Some things he’s just confused by. Like the aforementioned canvas, Hob texting him to make use of it, all but ordering him to. 

Why? He simply texts Hob, not expecting an answer quickly ― making him start as his phone vibrates. 

You still doodle. On work files. Hob says, punctuation oddly put in, a contrast to Hob’s more casual texts, and Dream freezes as a picture comes through, showing―the back of a file, filled with sketches of his sisters. 

Dream’s face feels hot, embarrassed as he puts down the phone and looks at the canvas, mortification working him into opening up some of the pencils and paints. 

-

“Do you like it?” Hob asks, staring at the canvas, and Dream blinks, resisting the urge to tear it up, or for some way for Hob to stop looking at it, at the skyline, orange and black buildings, the darker blue to orange gradient of a sunset, one he’s seen often at his office. 

“I think so,” he answers, pursing his lips as Hob glances at him. Dream feels he messed up the shading, the paint, can see big cross-hatches of it, of the top right corner where he spilled some green onto it accidentally. Even with all that, he does like it, does feel pride.

“You really should’ve gone to art school,” Hob says. Dream grimaces, thinking briefly of a reality where he did go to the art course, somehow meeting Hob anyway. However… 

“I wanted to. My parents had other ideas,” he replies, and Hob frowns, looking back at the canvas. “Begged my parents―but it wouldn’t be as lucrative and setting me up to take over,” he says, bitter. 

“We’re going to hang it up in your office,” Hob declares with a nod, and Dream gapes, baffled. “Top floors are all soulless anyway,” Hob mutters. “Now, we have business to talk about,” Dream blinks, still catching up with the previous statement, “bedroom,” Hob orders and Dream’s body follows automatically.

-

Dream knows what he’s saying―has recited it enough, been spurred on to recite it by memory the night before, and he tries not to think of how Hob whined and writhed on a black dildo which Dream got to use on him, in him― 

He really should stop thinking about it, not wanting to get hard, even with the glass walls of the boardroom floor puts Hob in sight in the hallway, phone to his ear as he talks, and Dream would rather be listening to whoever he’s probably tearing into, than the people of the board. Especially with what he’s saying. 

An uproar happens and Dream purses his lips, still watching Hob pace and up down the hallway as the board fill the room up with noise. The racket makes him grit his teeth, waiting it out as threats and screaming eventually quiets down, and he continues on with his speech, uncaring of the board’s reaction, half of him wanting to be in the hallway with Hob.

The meeting ends, and Dream can feel the dirty looks, the phones and earbuds being taken out to discuss things with―his parents, probably. To maybe try and strong-arm his latest announcement into nothing, but Dream could care less as Hob walks in after they’ve left.

Hob finishes his call with a smile, standing close to him and Dream relaxes, leaning on the desk. “How did they take it?” He asks, grinning. Hob seems to get a particular glee with this. 

“Badly,” he sighs, scratching an eyebrow. “Weren’t you watching?” 

Hob shrugs, stepping in so their legs are brushing as he also leans on the desk, “I saw some very spirited gesturing, which I’m sure means they’re not going to be ghouls about this at all,” Hob says, still smiling. Dream glances at him warily. 

“About everyone in management and above being paid less so that lower-tier workers get paid more? How are they meant to get that fifth yacht without that quarterly bonus, Hob?” He asks sarcastically. Hob’s plan was crazy to him at first, but considering the absurd amount in his bank account, with him only making the barest, most miniscule dent with things like pottery classes and art supplies, it won’t affect him at all, at least compared to those on the board. 

“I’m sure they can pull themselves up by their bootstraps and figure something out,” Hob says solemnly, nodding as he does. A hand circles his wrist, and Dream’s pulse jumps under the pad of the other’s finger, “in the meantime,” Hob says quietly, leaning into him, and Dream’s heart races at the stubble grazing his jaw, “you’re due a reward.” 

-

Dream sighs, resting his head on his arms as he looks at Hob, sitting on the chair across from him. His artwork hangs up above the sofa, a black smudge of his signature in the corner of it, added with Hob’s suggestion―which is always a start, though he’s getting used to seeing it hang so proudly. “What happened?” Hob asks, putting his phone screen-down onto the desk. 

“My father rang me,” he groans, “trying to convince me not to go through with the pay cuts,” Hob raises an eyebrow. “And then my mother rang me half a day later, also trying to convince me. They kept at it separately until I hung up on both of them.” Sitting straight up,  he frowns, even with Hob giving him a sympathetic look at least giving him some energy, “and then Desire called, mainly to congratulate me on driving our parents into early graves, or so they said.” 

“Hopefully you’re not thinking of doing something like conceding to them,” Hob says softly, leaning onto the desk with a smile. 

“Of course not,” he scowls, affronted at the implication. Hob gives him a pleased look, “I have to ask,” he says, words falling out of his mouth from tiredness, combined with Hob so close. “Why do this? Why not just take over?” 

Hob’s face goes blank, and Dream’s stomach swoops in response as Hob stares at him intensely. “Honestly, I was happy with my company, small as it was, and all this,” Hob looks around, then leans in closer, hands clasped on the desk, “well, we’re happy where we are, aren’t we?” 

Hob’s voice drops octave and Dream swallows as he nods, Hob’s presence filling the space between differently. Dream’s blood rushes, skin prickling as Hob’s dark eyes continue to stare at him.

“Make no mistake, though,” Hob says, voice dripping down his spine, and Dream’s mouth dries, only blinking as his eyes itch, too focused on the way Hob stands up, walking around to him, “it’d be so easy to stage a coup if you do something I’m not happy with,” Hob purrs, smiling. Fingers hook under his tie and Dream whimpers, feeling light-headed with how fast his blood rushes to his cock as Hob sits on the edge of the desk. 

“You―that’s,” he attempts, can only hold onto the arms of the chair as Hob rolls it closer to him ― stopped by a pointed shoe between his legs. 

“There are so many here who’d happily assist with ousting you, a visible remainder of the nepotism they work under,” Hob whispers with relish, eyes sparkling and Dream can only gasp as his tie tugs him closer, whining as his cock presses into the sole of Hob’s shoe, and Dream grasps at the other’s knees as the tie is loosened, not as choking, even though he feels like that anyway, mind spinning. “People chomping at the bit to see you humiliated, it’d be nothing to nudge them into joining me.” 

Dream lets out a needy noise, insides burning as his hands grasp at Hob’s leg as he tries to hide his face ― and is stopped by a tug on his tie, forcing him to look up and feel the other’s breath on his face, insides molten at Hob’s words, can see it happening behind his eyes so clearly, and Dream should be―terrified, or even offended, but all he can manage is insanely aroused, that Hob would use his considerable skill to ruin him in such a way.  

The small space between their lips feels like a chasm, and Dream aches, caught on tenterhooks. On the fingers in his tie, the shoe he wants to grind into. “And after that, I suppose you’d be my fucktoy full time,” Dream keens, face feeling absurdly hot at Hob’s words, and Dream shudders as the shoe presses into his cock. “Though, I doubt there’s much difference with that.”

“Hob,” he pleads, can only whine as the shoe grinds against his cock, stars exploding behind his eyes as his brain careens towards an orgasm. 

“But it’s more fun this way, I think,” Hob says, lips brushing against his, “to have this supposedly powerful CEO in the palm of my hand, knowing he’d be willing to do anything for me, just for the merest touch.” Hob’s shoe crushes against his crotch and Dream comes with a shiver, listing onto Hob’s jaw, stubble scraping across his temple. 

He tries to speak, but only makes a jumble of noise, can feel the come coating the insides of trousers, insides still hot and rushing even as Hob stands up. Dream pants, needwant not sated at all as Dream falls to the floor, grabbing onto the other’s legs. 

A hand goes into his hair and there’s a tingle of pleasure-pain as Hob tugs his head up, “some of us do have actual work to get to,” Hob chides softly, stepping away and Dream whimpers, curling up on the floor as Hob leaves, door shutting. 

Dream pants, still feeling aroused even though he’s already come, mind frazzled― 

And the door opens, a familiar sigh, the door closing as Hob’s shoes appear under where he’s kneeling. “Dream,” Hob says softly, and Dream looks up as Hob sits on the sofa. “I suppose I can allow for a bit more time.”

Dream's not sure how he got across, crawled or walked, flew, but can only feel Hob's hands on his neck, in his hair as they kiss, filthy and deep. And Dream needs more, needs Hob inside―but there’s no plug in him, too impatient for it, even with how clever Hob’s fingers are. Dream breaks the kiss, nibbling down Hob’s jaw, who allows him to, feel Hob’s pulse on his tongue as he sucks a mark into his throat. 

Hob is warm under him, hands sliding down to his shoulders as Dream scrambles, fingers shaking as they undo Hob’s shirt, and can feel the other’s erection against his taint. There’s a spike of arousal, but his cock only twitches, still too early as he licks Hob’s nipples, nails scratching into the hair on Hob’s chest. Hob whines, arching into him as he Dream continues his way down. 

Down to Hob’s stomach, he nibbles at the happy trail, moaning happily as he undoes Hob’s belt, then trousers, pulling them, which Hob huffs at, hands going into his hair to stroke it. His mouth waters at Hob’s cock, bulging under tight blue boxers, which he licks a stripe, Hob shivering and tugging his hair. Nosing at the fabric, he tugs it down, revealing Hob’s cock and hairy thighs. 

Wasting no time, Dream swallows him in one, making Hob moan as his cock slides down his throat. Keeping a hand on a thigh, he puts his other one on Hob’s balls, massaging them and making Hob gasp and keen as his tongue licks the underside of Hob’s dick, can feel salty pre-come sliding down his throat as he presses his nose into Hob’s crotch, overwhelmed by the musk. 

Hob cries out as he takes his time, bobbing up and down leisurely, laving attention on every part of the other’s cock as Hob whines, lightly tugging his hair. “Dream,” Hob breathes, groaning as Dream keeps a steady pace, can slowly feel his arousal heightening once more, prick filling into the mess in his pants. 

The arousal burns through his veins, but he ignores it, arching his lower back as he focuses on wringing more beautiful sounds out of Hob, until he’s moaning continuously, cockhead twitching in his mouth as Hob gets closer. Hob’s thighs surround him, heels digging into his back, keeping him in place.

“Dream,” Hob repeats in a hiss, a particularly rough pull of his hair as he orgasms, come sliding down his tongue and throat, coating his inside of his mouth as he moans happily, licking the other’s softening cock as he’s filled. The grip on his face lessens, Hob relaxing under him with a groan― 

And a hand in his hair, tugging him off Hob’s cock, a string of saliva connecting his mouth to the other’s prick as he’s pulled up, spit dissipating as Hob kisses him, wet and open-mouthed. 

“You are taking the rest of the day off,” Hob says, biting his lips, a hand coming up to grip his jaw―and Dream lets out a squeak as the other grips his crotch, cooled come jostling against his hard prick, “and you aren’t going to touch this. Got it?” 

Dream swallows, can feel how wrecked his voice is going to be, the lingering taste of Hob making him shiver―and there’s only one answer to this, can’t fathom anything else, “yes.”

[Fin] 

[sunglasses-hide-hungry-eyes]

You know what would be fun?

Dreamling Warprize AUs. I'm thinking along the lines of a lot of Thorki-type stuff. Big, strong, golden Hob, captured as a gladiator, catches the eye of noble/prince/king Dream. Haughty, waifish noble/prince/king Dream is caught in battle and presented to barbarian Hob as a gift. You know.

[gabessquishytum]

Adding to the warprize madness:

Dream's image as a scary and ruthless guy is thrown out the window the second Hob announces the pregnancy. They had to keep quiet before in order to not reveal it too soon but now Dream gets to dote on his husband publicly. Gods have mercy on anyone who upsets his husband or causes him even the tiniest bit of discomfort. (Hob: darling, I appreciate the murderous intent, but leave the cook alone, the morning sickness is not his fault)

Once the baby is born Dream becomes the ultimate dad. He is constantly holding the baby and he is amazing at comforting them and getting them to sleep. He will hold his child during a meeting, his husband is tired and the child did not stop crying with the nurse, fight him over it. Please fight him, he has a reputation.

The warlord reputation is somewhat redeemed after someone makes a noise and startles the child, causing them to start crying which almost makes Dream murder whoever upset his child on the spot.

Scary warlord? More like the most scary and protective father in the world. Everyone who thought he was protective over Hob is about to discover a whole new level of protective "I will kill and burn kingdoms for you" energy.

🍃

Sometimes you can see something so clearly in your mind you just have to make a shitty 2 minute doodle.

Seriously though, anyone who thinks that Dream is going soft after starting a family is very quickly proved wrong. If anything, he’s just more unhinged than he was before. There’s no way that his child is getting anything but the best, even if Dream has to crawl over hot coals to get them what they want. Nothing is too much for his beloved family <3 and anyone standing in his way is going to get ✨murdered✨

[gabessquishytum]

Not the same anon, but I really enjoyed their silly angst for the War Prize AU and wanted to add a variation:

Hob knows he's pregnant. Dream doesn’t. All Dream knows is that his beloved has been ill recently. And he's already fully panicking, bringing in the best doctors in the realm, three-quarters convinced that the love of his life is dying.

Maybe Hob hasn't told him, for angst (he's like. 91% sure what's actually going on, but he's not fully certain. Maybe he thought it was impossible for him to get pregnant- he'd been through a lot before Dream. But he's terrified that he'll convince Dream it's alright, nothing's wrong with him, this is a Great Thing, actually, and then it'll turn out he was wrong and Dream will just break). Maybe (for comedy) he has, but it turns out that the euphemisms for pregnancy they use in Hob's old kingdom just. Do not translate. And even though Hob is trying his best to explain it is not getting through.

So it makes matters that much worse when Dream gets called away (and whatever's happening it's BAD, bad enough to pull him away from Hob's side, where he's been incessantly hovering) and Hob gets kidnapped.

Dream is terrified- his love was already ill, maybe dying, and now he's been kidnapped? It would be so easy for Dream to lose him.

Dream is ready to burn the world to the ground to get him back.

(Several doctors, who had very bad timing and figured it out/officially told Hob while Dream was away, are nervously looking at each other like '... do we tell him? that'll just make it worse, right?')

Before they can decide, good news! Hob escaped, he's ok! Gets back to the palace before Dream does and everything.

Dream drops everything to go to him, obviously. And he's so happy and relieved, he goes to throw himself at Hob for a bone-cracking reunion hug, but Hob holds up a hand between them, awkwardly. A thousand possible explanations fly through Dream's mind, each worse than the last, before Hob says, "Just be careful."

So they get a very soft, tender reunion, and Dream is being so cautious, afraid Hob is injured or his illness has gotten worse. At first Dream is wholly caught up in relief, and kissing Hob, reveling in the fact that he's safe, he's here. But eventually the worry starts to weigh on him again, and Hob notices.

So he pulls out of the tangle of Dream's limbs a little, just enough to have a serious face-to-face conversation, and explains.

And then there's a second round of tearful, tender kisses, only now Dream can't keep his hands off Hob's belly, and all he's feeling is joy and relief.

I’m obsessed with the idea of a language barrier here??? Like Hob has been trying desperately to tell Dream and all the palace doctors what’s going on, but they don’t seem to get it… Hob is shaking the doctor by the shoulders like “I have. A bun in the oven!!!!” And the doctor is like “OH! I get it!!! He’s gluten intolerant!”

While he’s in the middle of being kidnapped, before he beats everyone up and escapes, he grabs one of the kidnappers and he’s like “do you know the world for pregnant in this language?? I’m going crazy here.” So he finally finds out the right word and hurried back home. (Meanwhile the doctors finally got hold of a dictionary from Hob’s old country and they’re like OHHH WE’RE SO STUPID, THE KING IS GOING TO KILL US).

Hob is weirdly nervous when he gets back, because now he can finally tell Dream… and he’s not sure how he’ll react. Maybe Dream won’t want him and will actually send him back to his old lands, and he obviously doesn’t want that. Thanks to hormones he’s nearly crying when he sees Dream again.

OBVIOUSLY it’s absolutely fine - more than fine, actually. Dream has never been happier. Thank god Hob isn’t actually ill, he’s back home and safe, and they’re actually going to have a baby together! Dream didn’t even know it was a possibility, but it’s something he’s wanted forever. Especially with Hob. He’s sliding his hands under Hob’s clothes and pressing against his belly so tenderly, then sweeping his husband up into his arms and carrying him off to have a nice long rest in bed.

(Dream also immediately hires someone fluent in both of their languages. Just in case.)