Hah, how the tables have turned. He must truly look so pitiful if Sunday is telling him that. The smile on his face barely stays, so he leans into the other man's touch, wanting to feel his warmth despite this being a sweet dream. He doesn't want to move away from here. He doesn't want to lose this. ]
Then, are you planning on saving this old Hound?
[ If Sunday doesn't want to wake up, if he doesn't know where else to go— then Gallagher wants to be selfish and keep him right here. Both his arms wind around the Halovian's waist, pulling him closer to his body. His head rests against the man's shoulder, not wanting to move away. ]
I'd let you, if it was possible. [ His fate can't be changed, or so he believes. ] Just stay like this for a while.
( He feels too warm to be a simple conglomerate of falsehoods, too kind to exist for the sake of another and not himself. There is a real Gallagher somewhere in his heart. Sunday draws his wings back and presses his face against his chest, clutching onto his clothes. He devours his scent, giving him the time he needs to reassess. )
You can't leave, not after the moments we've shared. I relinquished everything to you that night, Gallagher. Why would you be so... Selfish.
( He's not arguing, exactly, the words are so weak in his throat, fading as quick as he tightens his arms around him. The thought of losing him is painful enough and he has nobody else to vent. )
[ Gallagher's own grip around the other tightens up too, and he has no intentions of letting him go. Not yet, not now. Not while they still have time before he inevitably has to face his own curtain's call. His story might be over, but that doesn't mean he can't be selfish for a little while longer.
He chuckles softly, quiet. ]
If there's anyone who can do it, it'll be you.
[ He wants to believe that it's possible, that Sunday will find a way to save him— Just for now, he'll allow himself this selfish wish, even if he already knows how things are going to end.
This might be yet another one of those things that won't go Sunday's way. (Or so he thinks.) ]
( He exhales softly as if every breath around him pains him. He misses this warmth radiating from him, the scent of old cigarettes and liquor clinging to an ever-unruly attire. As they speak, the express is in the real universe is growing more distant to the Asdana system. Sunday is here by sheer will, by stubbornness.
Perhaps his ability to revisit the Dreamflux Reef has to do with his connection to the entity that gazes upon it. And in turn, his own past connection to THEM. )
Not even you should deserve a fate as cruel as this.
( He glances up at him, reaching for his face with both hands so he can caress his cheekbones. )
[ It should be impossible for Sunday to be right in front of him, to feel real and warm and safe. And yet here he is, holding onto Gallagher with all the stubbornness he's known for. Parts of him that this old Hound will never grow to dislike.
He smiles warmly at him, reaching up with one hand to settle right on top of his as he leans into his touch. ]
Then, if I ask you to change my fate, will you find a way?
[ He turns his face to the side just to press a soft kiss against the other man's palm, wanting to remain close. ]
( His stubbornness is a dangerous tool, yes. The way he wields it for Order proves that much, but to cut through the predetermined fate of Enigmata would be another flavor of insanity. Sunday dabs his thumb over his lip after he kisses his palm, caressing him. These are probably not his lips, but someone else’s he has stolen. Just another lie of Gallagher, and yet they serve him far better than any other person. )
[ At this point, that's all up to Sunday's resolve more than anything else, since he's the one on the Astral Express moving further and further away from Asdana. Gallagher would insist that Sunday can't stay here forever, but he'll allow themselves this moment of selfishness. It just might be the very last one they'll ever get.
He pulls away just enough to memorize every feature of Sunday's face. His fingers trace over his cheeks, his jaw, mapping everything out until he's sure he'll never forget it. ]
Ever been told you're really pretty?
[ He's sure Sunday must have heard it all, given his former position. ]
( He'll miss all the nicknames, they will leave him with a familiar sweet taste deep in his heart. He'll miss the lies, every single one crafted from a thread of hope and truth. Sunday knows he can't stay here forever, but sometimes a lie is enough to keep one's will going so he doesn't say anything. He doesn't complain or call it out. He wants to pretend a while longer for the last time. )
Frequently, yes.
( He whispers, feeling his nerves revere the touch of his calloused, old fingers. Sunday sighs under his breath, shattering that poised mask he wears to allow himself a wrenched frown. The attraction of others doesn't mean anything to Sunday. The opinions that truly matter are here, slipping out of Gallagher's lips. Sunday lifts himself on his tippy toes to reach for them, tugging down on his tie to bring him lower. )
Gallagher, I wish to request one thing. It's quite simple.
[ For a moment, Gallagher looks stunned. He didn't expect Sunday to request for something like that, but he agrees that it is a simple wish, one that he can grant even if he has to lie. His web of lies is the only constant thing about him, so at least it's more reliable than the unknown.
He leans in close to press a soft kiss to Sunday's lips. ]
Then, how about I welcome you back to the land of dreams? Can I fix you something to drink?
[ There's more to his words than just drinking together, but he figures they can start with that. It's easy enough considering they're at his place where he has the supplies necessary to make anything Sunday could ever want. ]
Yes. ( He says under his breath as soon as their lips part away again. He misses this kind of warmth, even if it's objectively fading within the fabric of dreams themselves. Sunday can lie, too. What truly stops him from staying here as long as he wants after Gallagher is gone? )
Just like the one from before.
( He says as he follows him to his kitchen, helping with bringing out any tool or ingredient needed rather than simply spectating. Sunday takes greedy glances at him from the sidelines, putting out two cups for them. )
Gallagher meets Sunday's gaze whenever he catches the other looking his way, sending him smiles as he goes about mixing their drinks. He's always been so meticulous when it comes to this, careful to craft the perfect concoction that's sweet and perfect both in taste and aesthetic.
As he puts together Sunday's, he tops it off with a bird charm that has colours reminiscent of the Halovian's attire. He slides that over his way. ]
( He stands near him as he's preparing the drink with effortlessly. It's just as he remembers it from a night not too far in the past, and Sunday watches as those hands mix it and build it in every perfect way.
The taste is perfect, too. )
Your skills have not diminished. It's delicious as always.
If only I could have this every day, unchanging, so I could share your skill with everyone else.
[ Gallagher refrains from saying anythig else, because he can't guarantee that he'll manage to exist forever. At least, if he teaches Sunday his skills, then a part of him will remain with the other man even if it isn't something tangible.
( Sunday savors more of the drink before putting it down again. His eyes are settled deeply on him - Gallagher knows how much Sunday reads into things, how paranoid he is. This drink might as well be named Goodbye. )
Fine.
( He knows what this is, anyway. It crushes his soul unlike anything else, but if he can't escape a dream with Gallagher at his side, then he rather wake up without regrets. )
[ There's something about the way Sunday acquiesces that breaks his heart. He didn't think something like this was still possible given how close he is to the end of the line, but he knows that the man before him will always be one of his regrets. If only because he doesn't know how he can stay with him beyond this beautiful dream.
He reaches for Sunday's face, caressing the side of it with his palm. ]
Hey. You know you can ask to do something else.
[ In case Sunday is truly not interested... Then again, he knows there's more to it than just that. ]
( He'll miss the way Gallagher sees through him like this, even if it comes at a mildly embarrassing price. Sunday presses his palm over his hand, briefly out of breath because - well - reasons. This means he doesn't have much time left, and if this is their last time together.
No. He doesn't want to think about it.
Instead, Sunday reaches for his stubbled jawline, lifting himself on his tippy toes so he can press a hungry kiss on him. He always smells like this - half of old nicotine and his own sense of ragged beauty. He pushes him against the back of the counter, kissing him over and over like he's trying to mend him together via kisses alone. )
Sunday kisses him like this is going to be the last time, but the sad thing is that they both know it will be. They can't call this a bad dream, because tomorrow is never going to come for Gallagher, and that's simply the reality they have to live with now.
He kisses back, just as hungry, just as desperate. His arms wind around Sunday's small waist and pulls him close, unwilling to let go even if the man begs him for air. If this is going to be the last time, then he wants to make sure it'll be one the Halovian will remember for the rest of his life. He kisses him again, and again, nipping at his bottom lip. ]
Sunday—
[ He murmurs, asking for permission. He knows he already has it, but it serves as a warning too. ]
( He whispers between their mouths kissing and nipping at each other, words lost between every breath shared between them. Sunday's hands slide around his nape, clutching that soft hair of his to keep him just as close. If there is anything real about this moment is his this pounding heart aching for him. I don't want to lose you. I can't.
He grinds his hips against him, encouraging him to keep on holding onto his waist and perhaps to do even more than that. He doesn't care where it happens. If they don't do it now, he will never get this chance again.
So he pulls away roughly, gasping sweetly so he can messily undo his tie and the buttons on his shirt. His vest, his belt. )
I know, angel. [ Gallagher murmurs against his lips, soft and withering. ] I know.
[ Everything he wants is here too. He tightens his grasp around Sunday, kissing him more and more with every intent to devour him. Things have never felt this desperate before, this hopeless. It always felt like they had all the time in the world, but Gallagher knows that's no longer the case.
Still, he reaches for Sunday's hands and stills them. He pulls back just a fraction to smile at him. ]
If you rush, it'll be over before you know it.
[ So it's better if they take their time, even if it feels like they don't have much left.
He kisses him again, his hands gliding down the fabric of Sunday's clothes as he begins to peel them off. His vestments, his coat. All the way until his fingers snag against the cross-shaped holes of Sunday's gloves, touching pale skin. His lips move to start nipping at the curve of his neck as he continues to undress him, taking his time even though his cock is already hard and aching.
The last thing he wants is for this to be over, so he'll savour it until he no longer can. ]
( A smile like the one he offered must hurt to deliver. Even Sunday can't find it within him to offer one of his own - but Gallagher is stronger. He glances down at their hands still touching the metal on his belt. )
I'll stay as long as we need.
( He says under his breath until the words are practically between those lips of his, permeating their misery and fate while Gallagher works on undressing him. He tries to aid him by shrugging off his shoulders, or leaving his overcoat to fall at his feet.
He breaks off the kiss to let out a sweet sigh, head tilted for him to find the space at his neck. Every feather on him is sensitive at the root, stretching widely for him. Sunday can't help leaving his hands not doing anything, so he forces them back on Gallagher's pants, unzipping him over that large lump of cock tenting over.
The sight of his size again leaves him dry in the mouth, and he pulls himself away so he can properly get rid of his shoes and pants. He wastes no time cupping him by his jawline and feels every jagged stubble. )
[ The question earns a soft smile from the Hound, his teeth grazing at the sensitive flesh of Sunday's neck. When the pretty angel is mostly naked before him, Gallagher's eyes takes it all in, sunset hues darkening as the other man feels the stubble on his chin. He neaks in a quick kiss. ]
Anything you want, Sunday. I'll grant it.
[ That, and Gallagher doesn't want their last time to be on the kitchen counter despite how many times they've done it there too. He picks up the other man, letting him cling to him nice and proper before making his way over to the bedroom. His feet nudges the door open, and soon he lays Sunday on the mattress. The sheets are a mess, but he's never felt the need to fix them up.
His arms bracket the other man below him, the fondness never leaving his eyes. ]
Even now, you're as radiant as ever.
[ And so he kisses him again, soft, sweet, and yearning. His cock aches to be deep inside Sunday's heat, but he wants to take his time just like he said. He wants to savour this. His fingers skim along Sunday's sides, ghosting over his skin until he can tease his nipples, coaxing them to harden. ]
Even now— it’s almost odd hearing you call me by my name.
( He says under his breath like it’s their secret. Sunday’s touch on Gallagher is begging to coax more of those callings, incessantly through the night. It feels like aeons have gone by since he last heard this man take pleasure for himself.
He laces his arm around his shoulder to help his weight hold on— not like he needs to. In this dream anything is possible, that is anything except what he wants most.
Unlike Gallagher, strong and slow as he’s trying to take this, Sunday is more impatient. He feels the waves of Asdana tearing through space as he’s laid on his bed.
Even his scent is a distant memory now. He urges his arms around his neck to pull him close, spreading his wings in full display while their mouths connect. He’s warm as always as he savors his tongue, sucking and kissing his lips in any way he can.
He can’t help a soft moan escape as those large hands touch him down his sides and teasing his nipples. The sensation of pure delight is a shot right to his cock, too. )
[ Gallagher murmurs against Sunday's skin, peppering him with kisses while he coaxes the man's nipples to rise into stiff peaks. He pinches one rosy nub as his other hand moves lower, sliding down his waist, his hip, until he can trace lazy patterns on a pale thigh. Sunday's skin feels so soft, smooth. Gallagher marvels at how lucky he is that he gets to be this close with an ethereal being.
To be able to call this beautiful man his. Even if it won't last forever, not after today.
The urgency of the situation isn't lost on him, especially when Sunday is silently begging him to hurry. Gallagher finds himself torn between what they both want. Time is an ever-looming threat, and he knows he's running on borrowed minutes at this point. Still, he wants to worship Sunday like he always has, kissing every patch of skin, leaving marks where he can. If all that will be left of him are these small bruises, then he wants to leave as many as he can. As many as Sunday will allow.
It's not long that his fingers wrap around the other man's cock too, stroking him slowly. ]
( It's not bad at all, really. Anything that comes out of Gallagher's mouth, every sound or kiss is thoroughly cemented to this moment. Sunday utters like his words are a secret as the fabric of space keeps stretching their time together thinner.
Nerves are needling every part of him, sending hot rushes through him after Gallagher is done devouring his nipples and spreading love throughout him. The idea of this lasting forever is so serene that he momentarily forgets they're on borrowed time.
So he grabs him by his face as they kiss, breathing deeply as he takes in his scent and warmth.
He's just as hard in real life, comfortable in his warm, lonely bed as he is right now in this beautiful dream. He gasps as soon as Gallagher grips and strokes his cock. He grabs around his head to latch his hands into his hair, pulling their foreheads together. )
[ Gallagher can't help but smile as Sunday brings their foreheads together, drinking in every word, every confession like they're a benediction granted by the gods. He knows that a lowly sinner like him can't bask in their radiance, but so long as Sunday wants him and only him, then nothing else matters. Sunday's wishes are more than enough for him.
He kisses the man once more as he strokes his cock, paying close attention to the underside of the length while he also rubs at the crown. Precum smears easily the more he does it, and once he's satisfied, he moves on to spreading Sunday's legs. An obscene position, one that he makes up by soothing the other with kisses pressed against his skin. He nibbles at Sunday's collarbone before bringing two fingers up, pressing them at his lips. ]
Wanna get them ready for me, birdie?
[ It's not like they need proper preparation considering this is the Dreamscape, but— He wants to watch Sunday sucking on his fingers one last time, before everything goes dark for him. A selfish desire, one he hopes the other man will indulge him on. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Hah, how the tables have turned. He must truly look so pitiful if Sunday is telling him that. The smile on his face barely stays, so he leans into the other man's touch, wanting to feel his warmth despite this being a sweet dream. He doesn't want to move away from here. He doesn't want to lose this. ]
Then, are you planning on saving this old Hound?
[ If Sunday doesn't want to wake up, if he doesn't know where else to go— then Gallagher wants to be selfish and keep him right here. Both his arms wind around the Halovian's waist, pulling him closer to his body. His head rests against the man's shoulder, not wanting to move away. ]
I'd let you, if it was possible. [ His fate can't be changed, or so he believes. ] Just stay like this for a while.
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( He feels too warm to be a simple conglomerate of falsehoods, too kind to exist for the sake of another and not himself. There is a real Gallagher somewhere in his heart. Sunday draws his wings back and presses his face against his chest, clutching onto his clothes. He devours his scent, giving him the time he needs to reassess. )
You can't leave, not after the moments we've shared. I relinquished everything to you that night, Gallagher. Why would you be so... Selfish.
( He's not arguing, exactly, the words are so weak in his throat, fading as quick as he tightens his arms around him. The thought of losing him is painful enough and he has nobody else to vent. )
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He chuckles softly, quiet. ]
If there's anyone who can do it, it'll be you.
[ He wants to believe that it's possible, that Sunday will find a way to save him— Just for now, he'll allow himself this selfish wish, even if he already knows how things are going to end.
This might be yet another one of those things that won't go Sunday's way. (Or so he thinks.) ]
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Perhaps his ability to revisit the Dreamflux Reef has to do with his connection to the entity that gazes upon it. And in turn, his own past connection to THEM. )
Not even you should deserve a fate as cruel as this.
( He glances up at him, reaching for his face with both hands so he can caress his cheekbones. )
It's not fair.
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He smiles warmly at him, reaching up with one hand to settle right on top of his as he leans into his touch. ]
Then, if I ask you to change my fate, will you find a way?
[ He turns his face to the side just to press a soft kiss against the other man's palm, wanting to remain close. ]
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I’ll find a way.
( He’d summon God if he has to. )
Just let me stay here a while longer.
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[ At this point, that's all up to Sunday's resolve more than anything else, since he's the one on the Astral Express moving further and further away from Asdana. Gallagher would insist that Sunday can't stay here forever, but he'll allow themselves this moment of selfishness. It just might be the very last one they'll ever get.
He pulls away just enough to memorize every feature of Sunday's face. His fingers trace over his cheeks, his jaw, mapping everything out until he's sure he'll never forget it. ]
Ever been told you're really pretty?
[ He's sure Sunday must have heard it all, given his former position. ]
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Frequently, yes.
( He whispers, feeling his nerves revere the touch of his calloused, old fingers. Sunday sighs under his breath, shattering that poised mask he wears to allow himself a wrenched frown. The attraction of others doesn't mean anything to Sunday. The opinions that truly matter are here, slipping out of Gallagher's lips. Sunday lifts himself on his tippy toes to reach for them, tugging down on his tie to bring him lower. )
Gallagher, I wish to request one thing. It's quite simple.
Do not bid me farewell.
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He leans in close to press a soft kiss to Sunday's lips. ]
Then, how about I welcome you back to the land of dreams? Can I fix you something to drink?
[ There's more to his words than just drinking together, but he figures they can start with that. It's easy enough considering they're at his place where he has the supplies necessary to make anything Sunday could ever want. ]
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( He says under his breath as soon as their lips part away again. He misses this kind of warmth, even if it's objectively fading within the fabric of dreams themselves. Sunday can lie, too. What truly stops him from staying here as long as he wants after Gallagher is gone? )
Just like the one from before.
( He says as he follows him to his kitchen, helping with bringing out any tool or ingredient needed rather than simply spectating. Sunday takes greedy glances at him from the sidelines, putting out two cups for them. )
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[ At least that's easy enough.
Gallagher meets Sunday's gaze whenever he catches the other looking his way, sending him smiles as he goes about mixing their drinks. He's always been so meticulous when it comes to this, careful to craft the perfect concoction that's sweet and perfect both in taste and aesthetic.
As he puts together Sunday's, he tops it off with a bird charm that has colours reminiscent of the Halovian's attire. He slides that over his way. ]
Just like this?
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( He stands near him as he's preparing the drink with effortlessly. It's just as he remembers it from a night not too far in the past, and Sunday watches as those hands mix it and build it in every perfect way.
The taste is perfect, too. )
Your skills have not diminished. It's delicious as always.
If only I could have this every day, unchanging, so I could share your skill with everyone else.
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[ Gallagher refrains from saying anythig else, because he can't guarantee that he'll manage to exist forever. At least, if he teaches Sunday his skills, then a part of him will remain with the other man even if it isn't something tangible.
He clinks his glass against Sunday's. ]
What do you think?
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Fine.
( He knows what this is, anyway. It crushes his soul unlike anything else, but if he can't escape a dream with Gallagher at his side, then he rather wake up without regrets. )
Teach me.
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He reaches for Sunday's face, caressing the side of it with his palm. ]
Hey. You know you can ask to do something else.
[ In case Sunday is truly not interested... Then again, he knows there's more to it than just that. ]
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No. He doesn't want to think about it.
Instead, Sunday reaches for his stubbled jawline, lifting himself on his tippy toes so he can press a hungry kiss on him. He always smells like this - half of old nicotine and his own sense of ragged beauty. He pushes him against the back of the counter, kissing him over and over like he's trying to mend him together via kisses alone. )
Please.
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Sunday kisses him like this is going to be the last time, but the sad thing is that they both know it will be. They can't call this a bad dream, because tomorrow is never going to come for Gallagher, and that's simply the reality they have to live with now.
He kisses back, just as hungry, just as desperate. His arms wind around Sunday's small waist and pulls him close, unwilling to let go even if the man begs him for air. If this is going to be the last time, then he wants to make sure it'll be one the Halovian will remember for the rest of his life. He kisses him again, and again, nipping at his bottom lip. ]
Sunday—
[ He murmurs, asking for permission. He knows he already has it, but it serves as a warning too. ]
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( He whispers between their mouths kissing and nipping at each other, words lost between every breath shared between them. Sunday's hands slide around his nape, clutching that soft hair of his to keep him just as close. If there is anything real about this moment is his this pounding heart aching for him. I don't want to lose you. I can't.
He grinds his hips against him, encouraging him to keep on holding onto his waist and perhaps to do even more than that. He doesn't care where it happens. If they don't do it now, he will never get this chance again.
So he pulls away roughly, gasping sweetly so he can messily undo his tie and the buttons on his shirt. His vest, his belt. )
There's no time.
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[ Everything he wants is here too. He tightens his grasp around Sunday, kissing him more and more with every intent to devour him. Things have never felt this desperate before, this hopeless. It always felt like they had all the time in the world, but Gallagher knows that's no longer the case.
Still, he reaches for Sunday's hands and stills them. He pulls back just a fraction to smile at him. ]
If you rush, it'll be over before you know it.
[ So it's better if they take their time, even if it feels like they don't have much left.
He kisses him again, his hands gliding down the fabric of Sunday's clothes as he begins to peel them off. His vestments, his coat. All the way until his fingers snag against the cross-shaped holes of Sunday's gloves, touching pale skin. His lips move to start nipping at the curve of his neck as he continues to undress him, taking his time even though his cock is already hard and aching.
The last thing he wants is for this to be over, so he'll savour it until he no longer can. ]
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I'll stay as long as we need.
( He says under his breath until the words are practically between those lips of his, permeating their misery and fate while Gallagher works on undressing him. He tries to aid him by shrugging off his shoulders, or leaving his overcoat to fall at his feet.
He breaks off the kiss to let out a sweet sigh, head tilted for him to find the space at his neck. Every feather on him is sensitive at the root, stretching widely for him. Sunday can't help leaving his hands not doing anything, so he forces them back on Gallagher's pants, unzipping him over that large lump of cock tenting over.
The sight of his size again leaves him dry in the mouth, and he pulls himself away so he can properly get rid of his shoes and pants. He wastes no time cupping him by his jawline and feels every jagged stubble. )
Can we do it in the bed?
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Anything you want, Sunday. I'll grant it.
[ That, and Gallagher doesn't want their last time to be on the kitchen counter despite how many times they've done it there too. He picks up the other man, letting him cling to him nice and proper before making his way over to the bedroom. His feet nudges the door open, and soon he lays Sunday on the mattress. The sheets are a mess, but he's never felt the need to fix them up.
His arms bracket the other man below him, the fondness never leaving his eyes. ]
Even now, you're as radiant as ever.
[ And so he kisses him again, soft, sweet, and yearning. His cock aches to be deep inside Sunday's heat, but he wants to take his time just like he said. He wants to savour this. His fingers skim along Sunday's sides, ghosting over his skin until he can tease his nipples, coaxing them to harden. ]
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( He says under his breath like it’s their secret. Sunday’s touch on Gallagher is begging to coax more of those callings, incessantly through the night. It feels like aeons have gone by since he last heard this man take pleasure for himself.
He laces his arm around his shoulder to help his weight hold on— not like he needs to. In this dream anything is possible, that is anything except what he wants most.
Unlike Gallagher, strong and slow as he’s trying to take this, Sunday is more impatient. He feels the waves of Asdana tearing through space as he’s laid on his bed.
Even his scent is a distant memory now. He urges his arms around his neck to pull him close, spreading his wings in full display while their mouths connect. He’s warm as always as he savors his tongue, sucking and kissing his lips in any way he can.
He can’t help a soft moan escape as those large hands touch him down his sides and teasing his nipples. The sensation of pure delight is a shot right to his cock, too. )
Gallagher…
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[ Gallagher murmurs against Sunday's skin, peppering him with kisses while he coaxes the man's nipples to rise into stiff peaks. He pinches one rosy nub as his other hand moves lower, sliding down his waist, his hip, until he can trace lazy patterns on a pale thigh. Sunday's skin feels so soft, smooth. Gallagher marvels at how lucky he is that he gets to be this close with an ethereal being.
To be able to call this beautiful man his. Even if it won't last forever, not after today.
The urgency of the situation isn't lost on him, especially when Sunday is silently begging him to hurry. Gallagher finds himself torn between what they both want. Time is an ever-looming threat, and he knows he's running on borrowed minutes at this point. Still, he wants to worship Sunday like he always has, kissing every patch of skin, leaving marks where he can. If all that will be left of him are these small bruises, then he wants to leave as many as he can. As many as Sunday will allow.
It's not long that his fingers wrap around the other man's cock too, stroking him slowly. ]
Feeling good, angel?
[ He wants to know everything. ]
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( It's not bad at all, really. Anything that comes out of Gallagher's mouth, every sound or kiss is thoroughly cemented to this moment. Sunday utters like his words are a secret as the fabric of space keeps stretching their time together thinner.
Nerves are needling every part of him, sending hot rushes through him after Gallagher is done devouring his nipples and spreading love throughout him. The idea of this lasting forever is so serene that he momentarily forgets they're on borrowed time.
So he grabs him by his face as they kiss, breathing deeply as he takes in his scent and warmth.
He's just as hard in real life, comfortable in his warm, lonely bed as he is right now in this beautiful dream. He gasps as soon as Gallagher grips and strokes his cock. He grabs around his head to latch his hands into his hair, pulling their foreheads together. )
Yes. I don't want anybody else but you.
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He kisses the man once more as he strokes his cock, paying close attention to the underside of the length while he also rubs at the crown. Precum smears easily the more he does it, and once he's satisfied, he moves on to spreading Sunday's legs. An obscene position, one that he makes up by soothing the other with kisses pressed against his skin. He nibbles at Sunday's collarbone before bringing two fingers up, pressing them at his lips. ]
Wanna get them ready for me, birdie?
[ It's not like they need proper preparation considering this is the Dreamscape, but— He wants to watch Sunday sucking on his fingers one last time, before everything goes dark for him. A selfish desire, one he hopes the other man will indulge him on. ]
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