#with a nice dose of fem hob

[zarnzarn]

I GOT A DREAMLING BINGO CARD!!!!!! This one is E4: Uniform fetish. It is explicit.

@dreamlingbingo

//

"And who might you be searching for?" The waitress says politely, which is when Dream realizes his mistake. It's been at least twelve years since he last saw his lover, time travelling differently at the bottom of the deep sea. He'd come to London as fast as he could, only to be met with hostility and shouting from Hob's old friends for what must have looked like a second abandonment to them, and a complete lack of address as to where his lover had shifted to.

Dream had gone back to the library and tracked Hob down, trying not to snap at Lucienne, and then quickly transported himself to New York.

But his mistake. Was not slowing down enough to read what Hob was calling himself.

"A brunette man, around his thirties," He tries anyway. "Tall, favours brown clothing, warm eyes-"

"Whoa, slow down, loverboy," The waitress says, putting her hands up. "We don't have any men working here."

Dream's brow creases. "What?"

"Yeah, dude, I don't know what to tell you," She shrugs, looking around. "What's his name?"

"I was told he works here," He snaps. He has perhaps spent a tad too long amongst the creatures made to kill at the first movement down in the lonely abyss. "I'm sure of it."

"I-" The waitress sighs, rubbing at her forehead, then suddenly straightens up, eyes wide. "Hang on. Hang the fuck on- REBECCA! REBECCA, COME OUT HERE, THERE'S A GOTH TWINK WHO'S ASKING FOR YOU!"

There's a loud cry from the kitchens and then a flurry of noise- the door crashes open to reveal a host of staff members in various states of disarray, squealing and shouting and-

Rebecca Gadling.

Her eyes widen as soon as she lays her gaze on him, colored amber in the shock of sunset splayed across her face. She grins, and it's like a sun emerging in his chest, with frizzy long hair and tottering on her heels as people from the back shove at her.

Then suddenly, she stops moving towards him and leans back and Dream looks down to see that he has rather spectacularly dropped the large vase of flowers he'd brought Hob between them. Also the chocolates. And the shells. And the now-redundant shopping bags and the limestone sculptures and the silk handkerchiefs.

Hob breaks the stunned silence with a gentle, wet laugh, and Dream looks back up to her, feeling greatly like his entire body is misfunctioning.

"You shifted," He says hoarsely. Because she has- changed shape in a way belying a talented magician- one that's not her lover, the Shaper of Forms, who she surely must have known would have helped her with such a transformation in an instant if she'd so much as hinted to him about it- but Dream's aware enough to know he's on thin ice as is.

"Yeah, I, uh," Hob chuckles, tucking a hair behind her ear shyly, coyness dancing in her eyes as she sidesteps the broken glass and other obstacles to reach him. "You like?"

"Like?" Dream repeats faintly, too busy being overwhelmed as she comes closer. There's a skirt. A short skirt, pleated and the same pink latex as her half-top. Her half-top that is barely holding in her-

The white lace bra that she'd made Dream make for her before he left peeks out the straining bust and he makes a noise.

"Darling," Hob says, sounding like she's barely holding back a laugh as she puts one warm palm on his cheek. The women behind them are tittering and cackling. "My eyes are up here."

"I would be privileged to even have only the back of your knees to stare at until the end of the universe," Dream says, not moving with the gentle pressure so he can keep looking at the breasts enclosed in pink and white. "Let alone the vastness of your eyes, warm and beautiful as fertile earth. But I would like very much to stare at your voluptuous breasts as long as unsocially acceptable, unless you deign to reveal to me more-"

"Right," Hob says, strangled. She turns to look over her shoulder. "I'm not coming back after today. Also get out, all of you, I'm fucking him on the tables."

Hob- Rebecca, was it?- turns back to him as the rest of their audience disappears in a loud burst of noise that he pays no attention to. Hob's hair is long and open, held back on both sides by white ornaments- not good enough, he should get her more- and stretches down to her backside, swaying enticingly.

It looks unbearably tempting against the pink.

"Do you still like having your hair pulled?" He murmurs into her neck, fingers already tangled and tugging as he presses her down into the table. Rebecca gasps, shuddering at the viper-quick movement, legs spreading.

"Hi, Dream. How was the deep sea?" She says hoarsely, laughter in her voice, and he growls.

"Unimportant." He declares, turning his head so he can sink his teeth into her throat. He plays with the ends of the skirt, stroking her thighs. It looks indescribably good on her. "Keep this uniform, after you quit."

Hob laughs again and Dream darts in to kiss her in greeting, before getting distracted once more by the feel of her chest pressing to his. Greedily, he reaches up for a handful, and Rebecca releases a beautiful, quiet whimper into his mouth that might drive Dream slightly insane.

"Pink is my color, isn't it?" Hob preens when she can speak ten minutes later, Dream's shadows spreading her saliva across her chin as they retreat, unable to go for stopping Hob's endless chatter during sex like he usually does, after so long in empty, dark silence.

"It is," Dream breathes, still fucking her like a dog. The lights flicker lovingly above them, summer rainstorm blazing outside as the two of them embrace on a sticky table in an empty cafe. The last stretches of twilight grasp at Hob desperately, bathing her in pinks and oranges, a vision. The skirt is flipped up and the half-top is missing buttons and hanging open limply, giving him full access to the lace torn by his teeth and breathtaking curves of her heavy breasts.

He moans as he looks down at the full picture, so different from the last twelve years of blue and white and black. He thinks rather fondly of the anglerfish dreams he's seen over the past few years, and their mating habits, and thinks he would like nothing more than being permanently attached to Hob until the heat death of the universe.

Hob giggles. "Is this because you missed me or because you like me as a woman?"

"You shifted," Dream whines. Hob cackles at him and he pinches her nipples in admonishment. "If you had shifted into a worm, I would have done so too and still had you like this."

"You are so odd," Hob says, delighted, and nearly takes his feet out from under him with how hard she pulls him down to her lips. "And say the oddest, sweetest things. I love you."

"I love you also." Dream says, palms unmoving on the latex and fingers on Rebecca's warm skin, a very pleasant combination. "Please keep the uniform."

Hob laughs again, and Dream allows himself a wide smile as he pushes himself back up. Even destroyed, it looks fetching on her.

But he's not done with her quite yet.

(They both know he never will be.)

"You know I've had more women than men," Dream says, watching with glee as Hob's smile drops in favour of a flustered blush and a healthy dose of fear as he grins down at her. "Let me show you what I've learned, hm?"

She grins back, fire of a challenge in her eyes as she pushes her chest up. Her skirt brushes against their skin as it falls, Dream hitching Hob's leg higher as he presses closer. "Bring it on."