wonder_wombat (wonder_wombat) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-11-13 20:04:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: wonder_wombat, c: hellblazer/sandman, november 13, p: dream/john constantine |
Hellblazer/Sandman - All I Have To Do Is Dream
Title: All I Have To Do Is Dream
Author: wonder_wombat
Rating: R
Word Count: 1542
Pairing: John Constantine/Dream
Prompt: dream interpretation; in dreams, anything is possible
Author's Note: I actually just spent the last two and a half months writing a research paper on The Sandman... so I should be old hat at this, right? I'm not as familiar with Constantine but I've done a little brush up reading and hopefully... I got it down okay. Not quite as hardcore pornographic as it could be... for some reason it resisted that. Hope the requester enjoys it ^_^; If you do have any requests/suggestions for improvement, I'm always open to that too. Constructive criticism is yay.
Also, the little lyrics in the end (and title) are from the song "All I Have To Do Is Dream"
John rolled over, staring at the clock. The numbers glared at him, 2:03 AM. He'd only been home for half an hour; he'd been trying to sleep that whole time. He closed his eyes... and opened them again. 2:84 AM. How did time pass so quickly..? Wait, no. He rolled over, had there been a body in bed when he went to sleep? He spied a pale shoulder, a riot of black hair. Not a bloody chance...
He sat up, pulling the blanket back. Morpheus rolled over, eyes like night with twin stars distant in them. Staring up at him, infinitely knowing and infinitely unreachable. "You're not here," John said quietly.
"I am," Morpheus answered; the voice that had haunted his… well... dreams since they'd last met. "This is a dream, and I am here."
John rubbed his face, reached onto the nightstand for his cigarettes. "Fucking lucid dreaming... Yeah, but you aren't here... You're a figment of my imagination."
"Does that make me any less real?"
John glanced at the man.. erm.. anthropomorphic entity that happened to look like a man... laying in the bed next to him. Could Morpheus be in multiple places at once? If he was dreaming... surely it was possible. In the dream-shaper's realm, where all of his power was. Sure it was possible. He laughed a little, shaking his head. "Fuck... dreams are so fucking weird."
"They are what they are."
"So anything's possible, huh? If it's my dream." John flicked the cigarette against the ash tray sitting nearby, glancing at the man philosophizing at his side.
"You could say that."
"Cheers." The cigarette abandoned, John rolled over and caught Morpheus's face in his hands... And he kissed the hell out of the Dream King. If it was a dream why not make the most of it? Maybe he'd get nightmares for the rest of his life, if this really was some aspect of Morpheus or hell the man himself. He'd survive. It seemed like this would be worth it.
“What’s it mean when you have sex in a dream…? They say flying means you’re actually dreaming about sex…?” He grinned and pushed down the man’s pale hands, pinned his wrists to the bed as he pushed himself up. He’d been struck by Morpheus’s looks when they first met, the Byronic sort. Strangely romantic. John shut up whatever comment Morpheus might have made with another kiss. “You seem the sort that’s always in control, yeah?” He asked with a grin, not really expecting an answer. “Not tonight, sweetheart… it’s my dream.”
Maybe he was courting disaster here. He heard rumor that Morpheus could be a spiteful fucker, that he didn’t like being out of control. But he looked like he belonged right where he was. It was overwhelming to have this, even his normal wet dreams were nothing like this. He didn’t worry about the objects of his desire actually knowing the shit that went on in his head when he dreamt about them. He had the distinct feeling that this one would go down in a record book somewhere.
He smoothed a hand over the white skin. Alabaster, ivory… some exotic shade he’d never actually encountered in a human before. For some reason he’d been expecting Morpheus to feel cold to the touch – maybe because the man had left such an icy, business-like impression when they first met. He jumped when he felt hands running down his back, then laughed. Okay so it’d been kind of stupid to assume that Morpheus would be like a sex doll for the whole thing. He looked down at the dream king’s face… and for a moment he swore he saw something like vulnerability. Weakness. He reminded himself this was just a dream.
John pushed up, shoved the blanket away – it kept getting in the way and he had no desire to get tangled in it – then grabbed Morpheus again. Hands in the jungle of black hair, he crushed their mouths together desperately, praying to whoever would listen that he wouldn’t wake up before the end of this. Morpheus felt smooth against him, he wondered how much of it was his own fantasy, how much was a weird reality. He lost himself in the other man’s mouth, the foreign taste of him… John couldn’t place it, didn’t care. He tried to devour it and in his insistence he lost focus. The next time he broke for air, he found himself on his back, staring up at Morpheus. Was that fucker smirking…?
“Oh come off it.” He laughed and shoved the man’s chest, pushed Morpheus backwards until the bed was beneath him again. John climbed on top to keep him there. “Hope you don’t mind… I’m not wasting time on foreplay. Not tonight, beautiful.”
Maybe practical shit wasn’t necessary in dreams… but he’d lose his rhythm without it. Things had to progress, right? Digging in the nightstand, the tube was there like it always was. That part was quick; he could’ve been looking at some dirty magazine with how mechanical it felt at first. Morpheus had always seemed so… sexless. Obviously that was not the case. The dream king was impressive… maybe he’d enjoy that too before he woke up. He leaned over the other man, cheek to cheek. “Think I could sleep the rest of my life if I had this.”
“You wouldn’t want to, John Constantine.” He heard the slightest hitch in Morpheus’s voice when he penetrated.
“Don’t kill this for me.” John sighed into the other man’s hair, burying himself until their bodies pushed together. It was like being on fire… inside and out, an all consuming flame. It had to be Morpheus, it’d never been like this before even in his fantasies. The need to have everything, to give everything. He clung to the man’s hands, head tipped back and mouth hanging open as his body moved. It was a fucking religious experience… he could devote himself to this.
John dared to glance down, catching the euphoria on Morpheus’s face. He could have been human. John leaned forward, letting go of Morpheus’s hands to grip the sheets on either side of the man’s head, driving himself deeper, deeper, harder every time until he was forcing the air out of both of them. “You don’t… don’t give up… do you?” He laughed breathlessly, sensing the control even now. Unwilling to let go just yet… It was his fucking dream. Let Morpheus play god in his own fantasies... daily life. Whatever.
They twisted on the bed, like a fucking night of kama sutra without the creativity. He saw their bodies reflected in the mirror on the closet door - John caught himself watching, a voyeur to his own acts. Morpheus whispered to him, the words were lost on him. The man's hands traveled everywhere: cradled his head, gripped his hair, his thighs. Grabbed him. How many times had he cum..? It didn't matter, it was endless - this act was forever.
At some point Morpheus had changed their positions. John arched off the bed, grabbed hold of the dream king's shoulders as the man fucked him. Wrapped up in Morpheus' presence, his face... Fuck. John arched, the sudden rush of heat made him feel faint. Fingers slipped on sweat slick skin, his lungs ached for a deeper breath but he was too preoccupied kissing, devouring again. Memorizing whatever he could. The shitty part about dreaming was forgetting the best things when you woke up... and eventually forgetting all of it.
In the end they laid there, tangled in the goddamn blanket that John had failed to get off the bed. This was the most human he'd ever seen the dream king, likely a once in a lifetime thing. "So do you cuddle or is that just for the women?" He laughed a little, grabbing for his cigarettes. "Knew you couldn't quit." In the end Morpheus had finished on top - in every sense of the word. John was okay with that. It'd been good. Real fucking good.
Morpheus rolled towards him and pushed his hair back. When the man's lips touched John's brow, they felt cool. "Sleep, John Constantine."
"I am sleeping," he mumbled with a little grin. He could have sworn he heard a laugh, but it seemed to come from all around him rather than above.
"Then rest."
John opened his eyes. 6:42 AM glared at him from the nightstand. He shifted, rolling onto his back to stretch out in the empty bed. Just a dream he mused, looking up at the ceiling. He swore the bed felt warm... just his imagination, surely. Anything could happen in dreams. Real life had a few more rules, and he knew there was no way in Hell one of the Endless was going to break that little rule he'd heard rumors about.
He plucked up his cigarettes from the nightstand, lit one and sighed a cloud of smoke. "Dream dream dream dreeeaam..." He sang a little to himself, climbing out of bed. Time to start the day... the visions were starting to fade. Likely by bedtime tonight he wouldn't even remember he'd had a dream in the first place. "Whenever I want you, all I have do is dreeeam.."