#ftmt

It would be easy to grow frustrated that Hob so often comes to him like this, yes, but. Dream understands. He knows Hob's love for humans, Hob's love of his own human shape, and he is not so unyielding as to deny his sweet amber the right to these preferences.

And besides. It is undeniably pleasant, to stretch out on his back, to have Hob's small human body perched naked atop him like this, bedecked in treasures he has selected from Dream's hoard—gold and silver chains strung with glittering gems looping about his neck and nestling into the hair on his chest, bangles and bracelets lining his wrists and arms and ankles, bejeweled rings adorning his fingers. Hob's hands stroking and petting through the soft downy feathers of Dream's belly leave him purring; he enjoys the way Hob's small human prick ruts through those same feathers while Hob rubs the cleft of his buttocks up and down against the slick exposed shaft of Dream's sex, and the way he reaches behind to angle it down and then scoots forward, lifts himself to squirm back against the tip, as if a dragon cock could possibly fit within a human arse—this never fails to stoke the heat in Dream's blood.

But tonight, Hob is not drawing up and away to transform, that they might couple properly in dragon form. No, tonight, he is still reaching behind himself and stroking the tip of Dream's cock, eliciting a rumbling purr as pleasure cascades through Dream in waves—and then he is holding it firmly against himself, rising up on his knees and bearing down upon it where he has worked himself open, is straining to tuck it within him as he sometimes does.

Dream stills, allows the indulgence; it is a heady feeling, Hob's small and delicate body stretched tight about the narrow tip of his sex, and he is always careful not to move until Hob has transformed or pulled off again.

But Hob does neither, this time.

Instead, he spreads his legs a little wider, knees damp with sweat against Dream's feathers, and the shift pushes Dream a fraction further inside him. The sound Hob makes is not entirely one of pleasure, and his scent spikes with something that is not fear and not pain, but might become either one very easily.

Dream's talons are poised along Hob's thighs, where he has been idly stroking while Hob plays; now, he settles them lightly, barely pricking against Hob's skin, a hint of a warning. "Hob."

Hob makes no answer, but squirms another centimeter onto Dream's cock instead. He leans forward with a gasp, shifting Dream within him, bracing both hands on Dream's belly. His face is flushed and damp, more exertion than pleasure, and Dream curves the length of his neck up to flick his tongue against Hob's cheek, scenting and tasting in equal measure. He smells of want, of intent, of determination, and Dream's body answers with a growl that resonates deep in his chest, vibrating the ruby and the other adornments that Hob had fastened about him.

"Hob."

"I can take it." Hob's voice is taut and trembling, but his eyes are bright and his mouth wet and smiling when he meets Dream's gaze. "I want it. Like this."

And Dream. He can imagine it, for just an instant, the impossibly tight grip of Hob stretched all around him, the pleasure of sinking fully into him; he flexes, minutely, and Hob jolts with a moan at the movement.

Dream blinks away the fantasy, strokes his talons restlessly over Hob's thighs, wings fluttering up around them both like feathered privacy screens. Hob is physically incapable of what he says he wants, his human form far too small to accommodate Dream's length and girth, but he continues to try all the same. He is making beautiful little sounds of effort, the scent of his determination rising from him in waves. None of it ever quite crosses over into pain but it is a very near thing, and Dream's feathers rustle slightly in agitation. His mate risks harming himself, and every instinct clamors to intervene, to prevent, to protect.

Hob drops down to brace on his elbows, the jewelry hung about his neck swinging to brush Dream's belly, knees spreading wider as he pushes carefully back onto Dream's length a little more. His breath sucks in sharply, sweat beading on his brow.

"Enough." Dream cannot let this continue. "Just change, Hob. Stop being so stubborn."

"Ah—n-no!" Hob pants, face tightly drawn, continuing to flex around the minimal bit of Dream within him, intent on working it deeper. "I-I'm fine!" His own prick is rigid where it hangs beneath his belly, dripping intermittently into Dream's feathers.

Dream wants to believe him, that he can bend his body to his will, wants to let him have this when it clearly means a great deal to him. But he can feel how Hob is stretched dangerously around him, one sharp move away from tearing, can scent the anxiety of pain mounting underneath whatever pleasure Hob may still be feeling.

"Hob. Stop."

Hob's fingers clench in Dreams feathers, bracelets clinking as he forces a little more of Dream's length inside him, long hair swinging to obscure his face. Dream's talons clench in turn, grazing hard over Hob's trembling thighs, drawing tiny rivulets of blood.

"I said stop!" He is alarmed, at this point, worried for Hob's safety and aggravated by his stubbornness. Hob lifts his gaze to Dream's, face flushed and damp, teeth gritted and eyes feverish with lust and determination, and rocks another increment back on and down.

"Hob!" Panic seizes Dream. "Oh, for the love of—" He shifts beneath Hob, changing his own form, shrinking into his human skin to match his stubborn mate. "Just so you know," he gasps, talons that are not quite human hands sliding around Hob's hips, "I am very angry that you made me do this!" And as his transformation halts, leaving him mostly human yet unmistakably still Dragon, the reduced length and girth of his cock allow it to slide fully and swiftly into Hob's opened body with a jolt.

Hob throws his head back at the sudden shock of falling onto it, of having Dream abruptly buried to the hilt within him; he's frozen in place, trembling, eyes wide and mouth open, a thin sound warbling out of his throat. Fluid dribbles from his rigid prick to pool on Dream's belly and his scent flares with pleasure, sharp and immediate.

Dream snarls, his own lust flaring in response, and rolls them over in a flurry of displaced feathers. His clawed fingers grip Hob's buttocks tightly, keeping them pressed flush together as he comes up on top and surges over Hob. The ruby hung around his neck drags through Hob's chest hair, makes tinkling little noises against the gold and silver draped about Hob as Dream plants his semi-shifted talons into the furs on either side of Hob and thrusts.

Hob cries out, scrabbling for a grip on Dream's biceps, legs tangling behind him as Dream thrusts hard again and again, setting into a brutal rhythm. The rings on Hob's fingers are digging into his newly-human skin and Hob's voice is sweet in his ears, singing his pleasure in a desperate cadence. Hob's scent wafts about him, less potent to his human nose but still fragrant with arousal, with lust and needs-met and building anticipation; Hob is beautiful underneath him, the mahogany of his hair splayed over the dark furs that Dream keeps for his comfort, glinting auburn and gold as he tosses his head, treasures from Dream's hoard glittering at his ears and neck and limbs.

Dream loses himself for a moment, fucking wildly into Hob as his emotions churn from aggravation at Hob's stubbornness to relief that he hasn't harmed himself and then subsume into the inferno of his own desire, the joy and the pleasure of having Hob as his even if they're both in human form, even if Hob is infuriatingly reckless and stubborn. He slows as his ardor settles and his temper cools, lengthening his strokes, shifting to curl Hob's legs more closely about himself, leaning down to nuzzle his soft naked cheek against Hob's beard while he rocks into him. His human body cannot purr the same way his true form does, but there is a rumbling growl of contentment rising in his chest all the same.

Hob's sounds of pleasure soften and his scent blooms with adoration as Dream noses against his throat, nibbles gently, his teeth dragon-sharp in his human mouth. He glides up to Hob's ear, tugs lightly on the earring there and shifts his weight. He is deep within Hob and holds his movements slow and steady, lifts his head and brings a clawed hand to comb through Hob's hair while he gazes down into his face.

"Why are you so intent on taking my true size in your human shape?" He has calmed, yes, but he does not understand, and so he asks.

Hob slides both hands up into Dream's hair and combs through it in turn, the same as Dream has done to him, an intimate gesture of grooming that never fails to make Dream's insides melt, just a little.

"Well, part of it's just that…I like the stretch? Something big can feel nice, and I like to see how far I can go sometimes."

Dream suppresses a snort of irritation, does not roll his eyes; Hob is entitled to whatever kinks he likes without being judged for them, regardless of Dream's personal opinion of the wisdom involved. "So it is the challenge that appeals."

"Yes and no? Sometimes the challenge is fun, but really I just like—" He breaks off as Dream rolls softly into him again, takes a deep breath. "I like how it feels to be so filled up, but it's best when—I want to be all filled up, by you. As much as possible. I want to feel every bit of you, stretching tight inside me, to feel small and helpless and safe because you're so much bigger. I-I know you'll take care of me, that kind of thing?" He pauses, bites his lip, adorably flushed and endearingly earnest as he speaks his mind. "I want you to mount me in dragon form while I'm still in human shape," he finally blurts, the color on his face deepening, but now that it's said he pushes on. "I want to feel all of you, everywhere around me and in me, I want your touch and your smell all over me inside and out, I want to be so thoroughly claimed that no one can ever doubt that I belong to you—" He breaks off, and his beautiful amber eyes lower, cast to the side, away from Dream. "I want the human me to be as much yours as the dragon me. And I know it's kind of physically impossible, but that doesn't stop me wanting it. Sorry if that's too much."

Hob is not articulating it as such, but Dream thinks he is beginning to understand what is at the heart of this desire. Hob had been small and helpless and in need of protection, the very first time their paths crossed, and Dream had offered neither shelter nor succour; instead, out of his head in his own grief, he had chased the desperate fledgling back into the night to fend for himself. It was hundreds of years in the past but had torn a rift between them when it came to light in their current relationship; the rift has since been mended, certainly, and Hob has selflessly forgiven him, but it is not unthinkable that Hob still carries insecurities about it buried deep in his psyche. To be taken and mated, then, accepted, claimed in his smallest weakest form, by Dream at his mightiest—it stands to reason that old wounds might thus be soothed.

And Dream wishes, above all else, to bring happiness to his mate.

He growls softly and dips to kiss Hob, that very human gesture of passion and affection that he knows Hob so favors, and rolls them back over so that Hob is on top. "No desire of yours will ever be too much," he vows, reaching up and stroking through Hob's hair again, drawing gentle clawed fingers through his beard. "You need only ask." Carefully, slowly, he breathes deep and focuses, enacting a partial transformation centered on his sex.

Hob's eyes widen as he feels Dream swelling slightly within him and he clutches at Dream's shoulders, gazing down into his face, body trembling. "Dream—!"

Dream combs through his hair again, tender and gentle. "You must tell me if it becomes too much," he murmurs, and lets himself swell a little larger.

Hob's mouth falls open and a high, wanton sound comes out, his eyes rolling as Dream flexes up into him. He gasps, blunt human nails digging into Dream's shoulders, short sharp little moans spilling out of his throat as Dream continues. He is careful, tightly controlled, letting his body shift in other small ways—scattered lines of short feathers along his limbs, clawed toenails, color darkening his talons—while he focuses on maintaining a stable consistent size inside of Hob, letting it grow larger in only the smallest of increments, the slowest of intervals. He moves his hands from Hob's hair to his hips, holding him steady, and Hob drops against him, buries his face in Dream's throat, breath panting hot and damp against Dream's collarbone. Dream's ruby and the looping chains of jewels adorning Hob's chest are body-warm between them and Hob's beard is a soft bristle against Dream's breastbone, sensations that he only gets to experience when both of them are in human form like this. It is pleasant, and when Hob lifts his head and shifts to put their mouths together again, licks into him, caresses Dream's short blunt human tongue with his own, this is also undeniably pleasant.

Perhaps he could be more enthusiastic about sex in human form, with Hob, who has shown him it is not so unpalatable, who makes it feel like something important.

That is a thought for the future, however, for tonight Hob has expressed a very specific want, and Dream intends to fulfill it.

When Hob lifts away from kissing him, Dream strokes his taloned hands lightly up his mate's back, settles them there in a gentle grip. "Be still, Hob," he murmurs, holding that beautiful amber gaze with his own, and shifts back into his dragon form, keeping his sex at its tempered human-safe size and keeping it sheathed within Hob.

Hob's eyes widen and his hands clench in Dream's feathers; his body trembles, and his scent is strong again with excitement, with eager arousal as he squeezes tight around Dream.

"Really?" he gasps, shifting up marginally and sliding back down on Dream while still trembling with the attempt to hold still, and the bare movement has Dream purring, spreading his wings languidly across the floor beneath them.

"It is my wish to give you anything you desire," he rumbles, flexing softly within his mate, and the emotion brightening Hob's eyes has him curving his head in close, nuzzling his snout along Hob's cheek. "Take your pleasure, little amber," he breathes, lifting away again, letting his talons rest alongside Hob's pleasingly-furred thighs. "I exist for no other purpose tonight."

Hob whines, squirming on his length, breathless as he arranges himself for proper leverage; he raises up on his knees, sinks back down, and the sound that comes out of his throat is pure satisfaction. He leans forward, rocks his hips down and writhes, so clearly reveling in the feel of Dream within him; he draws up and sinks down again, and again, and again and again, setting into a steady rhythm. The chains and pendants draping his chest jingle merrily and his hair swings gently about his jaw with his bouncing movement; he is making the sweetest little noises, ah and hah and oh, and his scent is ripe with pleasure and arousal. The way his fingers twitch and clench in the downy feathers of Dream's belly have him purring, and his own arousal runs hot in his loins, no effort at all to stay hard for his mate despite the focus it takes to keep his cock small enough.

It is hours of this bliss, or perhaps mere minutes that pass before Hob straightens up and then leans back, arms bracing behind him; he grasps careful handfuls of soft feathers in the creases of Dream's hindlegs, arching his spine and undulating restlessly, his own cock jutting on display at this angle. Dream strokes the side of one claw smoothly down its length; it jumps to his touch and the sound that Hob makes in response has a warm growl rising in Dream's throat, pleased. He touches again and Hob moans outright, grinds down on him harder; Dream arcs his neck and swings his head low with a rumble, dips in close to flick his tongue along the length of Hob's sex.

"Ah—" Hob gasps, faltering in his rhythm, "ah, Dream—" He shudders as Dream licks him slowly again and sinks all the way down onto Dream, shifts his hips forward, offering himself eagerly to Dream's attentions.

Dream carefully hooks a claw about Hob's shaft to hold it steady and winds his tongue around the tip, then flexes inside Hob, drawing another little moan from his throat; Hob pushes up from his backwards lean, thighs spreading wide for Dream's tongue. He reaches for Dream's face, strokes the short feathers above his eyes, combs lightly through the longer plumage of his cheek; Dream welcomes the touches, butts gently against Hob's beautifully-furred chest strung with his treasures and licks tenderly up and down the length of him in a steady rhythm. There is fluid welling from Hob at the tip and Dream laps it up like the precious nectar it is, delves into the pushed-back crown of his foreskin to claim the excess gathered there, chases it back to the source. Hob's slit is wet and welcoming as the narrow forks of his tongue slide carefully into it, first one and then the other, tasting down the inside of the shaft while his claw holds it steady.

Hob's breath hitches and his voice is full of wonder, body tensing delightedly at this new sensation. "What—ahh—" He shivers, fingers stroking through the feathers along Dream's jaw now, trembling as Dream's tongue squirms delicately within the channel of his prick. "What—nnnhh—whatever you're doing just—oh pleasedon'tstop—"

Hob approves, clearly, and so Dream continues, lamenting briefly that the forks of his tongue are not longer; he glides his free talon up Hob's thigh and around his back, steadying him, keeping him close. Hob curls both hands around Dream's horns and rubs gently, low down at the base where they're sensitive; presses his lips to the white feathers of the star between Dream's eyes in soft fervent kisses and exhales his devotion there, voice barely a murmur. "My Dream, my love, my mate—ahh—please, please take what's yours—"

Carefully, Dream rocks up into him and is rewarded by the way Hob tenses and then melts against him, the hitch in Hob's voice as he sighs yes, yes yes, the sweet rise of Hob's pre-spend to his questing tongue. Dream rocks gently upward again, setting a languid rolling rhythm complemented by his attentions to Hob's cock and Hob shudders, rocks back in tandem, clinging to Dream's horns and panting his little moans into Dream's forehead.

It is not long before Hob is moving harder, arousal rising high again in his scent and Dream leaves off from his cock, draws his head up and back, horns slipping from Hob's grasp. Hob takes hold of Dream's snout as he goes, cradling it between both hands and planting a warm kiss to the end of it before letting go. He drops forward again with a whine, buries his bejeweled fingers in Dream's downy feathers and works his hips feverishly while Dream combs gentle talons through the sweat-damp fall of his hair.

"Do you wish me larger inside you?" he asks after a moment, watching raptly the way that Hob rises and falls on his sex, the beautiful open shape of his soft human mouth around his pleasured sounds. His own pleasure is warm in his belly, heated and insistent but not yet so urgent as to demand he give it heed.

Hob pauses, seated fully down on Dream's cock. "Can you?" His voice is a bit breathless, amber eyes gleaming under drooping lids, excitement flickering in his scent—it is answer enough but Dream will still have a proper reply.

"I can," he purrs, flexing his cock purely for the satisfaction of the shiver that runs through Hob in response, the gooseflesh that pimples his delicate vulnerable skin beneath the adorning bracelets, the way his nipples tighten and peak in the glorious sea of his chest hair. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes—Dream, please, yes—"

Dream focuses again on where he's holding his sex in a partial transformation and slowly, slowly, allows it to transform further, until it is fully halfway between its human- and dragon-form sizes. Hob moans as it gently swells within him, lifting him higher on his knees. His body accepts Dream's girth so easily now that he is already inside, now that care has been taken to open Hob slowly—but the length of him has increased such that Hob cannot sit all the way down on it anymore and Hob whines, jewel-clad fingers clenching and unclenching in Dream's feathers as he tries all the same.

"I can't—ahh—ohhh, you're so big—" It is definitely praise, spoken with breathless eager reverence, but Dream can see that a limit has been reached. Hob is squirming, careful, trying in vain to reestablish his riding rhythm, physically unable to lift himself high enough; his thighs are trembling with the effort of keeping himself aloft and Dream is snugly nestled all the way inside him. He's beautifully stretched but there is little to be done about the length, and frustration is seeping into Hob's scent.

Dream purrs, soothing; he will not have his mate's desires thwarted so easily. Carefully, he slides a claw beneath Hob's bearded chin to tip it up. Hob's face is flushed, his eyes bright and wet at the corners when they meet Dream's, mouth parted on his panting breaths, and Dream's heart stutters in his chest that this beautiful creature has consented to be his. "Will you trust me?" he asks, bringing his other talon to carefully draw through Hob's hair.

Hob's eyelids droop at the grooming and he lets out a soft breath. "Of course. Yes."

"Then. Allow me, to—" He does not articulate the rest; it is easier to simply do, and trust that Hob will let him.

He moves both talons until he is carefully gripping Hob's body, claws hooked beneath his thighs and around his buttocks, his back, his waist. Hob grabs Dream's thumbs where they cross over his stomach, clinging as Dream carefully draws him up, up, not quite all the way off his cock, just the tip still tucked inside him. Hob's mouth drops open and his eyes roll back in his head, a low moan of pleasure rising in his throat at the long slide. And then Dream brings him back down, just as slowly, and Hob's head falls back, his moan rising into a sharp cry as he is filled again. Dream can feel how very tight Hob is around him, how fully and completely he has stretched his mate open, and it sends heat singing through his blood.

"Good?" he growls, unwilling to continue without confirming, and Hob shivers in his grasp.

"Good," he moans, chest heaving, "so good, Dream—" His hands scrabble briefly at Dream's talons around him, seeking a firmer grip, his rings making tiny little clicking sounds against the gleaming curve of Dream's claws. "Again. Please—"

And so Dream lifts him again, and draws him down again, and Hob tosses his head on a breathless whine. "Again!"

"As you wish," Dream rumbles, and sets into a smooth steady rhythm, sliding Hob up and down on his slick length, which only grows slicker with each pass. It feels exquisite, the stretched-tight glide of Hob's body upon him, and pleasure heats in Dream's belly, urging him faster-deeper-harder; he pushes it aside. Time enough for that in a moment; now, he wishes to revel in the sight and the sound and the smell of Hob curling into his grasp, hands braced on Dream's forelimbs, head tipped forward and mouth hanging open, saliva drooling from his slack lips. His eyes are glassy and his face aglow when he lifts it to meet Dream's gaze, and his scent is ripe with both lust and joy; he is completely lost in the pleasure of Dream's attentions and Dream purrs, swings his head in to flicker his tongue across the damp of Hob's flushed cheek. Hob is making those musical sounds again, longer and drawn out with each slide down and back up; Dream keeps his grip careful, moves Hob more quickly upon his own length, riveted by the way Hob's eyes roll back in his head and the sharpening pitch of his singing moans.

He continues on and on until Hob has gone boneless and insensate in his grasp, until his voice is one continuous note of pleasure sung in waves every time he is moved down on Dream's cock and back up, until Dream's own pleasure is no longer simmering in his loins but blazing; then, at last, he lifts Hob completely off and free, shifts his talons to carefully cradle Hob to his chest, hushing his whine of loss. With a grunt, he rolls onto his belly and places Hob on the furs before him, positioning his mate on all fours and facing away.

Hob's arms collapse and he drops his chest to the ground, presenting his backside in the most appealing manner. He is gaping open beautifully, slick and puffy-pink around the rim, copious amounts of Dream's natural lubricant visible within him and dribbling in shiny little rivulets down into the hair on his testicles and the insides of his thighs. Dream purrs, terribly pleased with the sight and the smell of his mate thus arrayed; he dips his head in close, nuzzling into the cleft of Hob's body and eliciting a needy whimper from Hob. He takes in the scent of his own fluids and Hob's untempered arousal, savoring the heady blend, rubbing it into the short feathers of his snout. His tongue snakes out and into Hob, the way wide and welcoming, almost cavernous around him; he delves deep, seeking out the wondrous spot inside Hob that brings him such pleasure and flicking his forked tip against it.

Hob makes a loud, delirious sound of encouragement and his knees splay a little further; Dream moves with him, lingers a long moment licking deep inside until Hob is squirming on his tongue, breathless and wrung out and pleading for more. His pre-spend is leaking from him in steady drips, fragrant and arousing, and Dream feels his own need raging behind his restraint as Hob begs.

"Dream—please, please Dream—I need it, I need you—take me, fill me up, mount me, make me yours—"

Hob is already his. They have both performed courting and mating rituals to express and accept intent; they have shared their lairs and hoards, they have coupled many times, they have flown together and spiraled down out of the sky in the age-old dance of dragon pairs since time immemorial, they have made love while both in human form more than once but Dream understands—this is something very specific, very meaningful to Hob, and it feels. Momentous.

He withdraws his tongue, pulls back to watch as Hob wriggles, gets his knees further under him to lift his rear higher; Hob's hole remains open and messy, more than ready to receive him, and Dream will have him, now.

With a rumbling growl, he rises up and flows forward to crouch over Hob, wings arcing to spread on either side. His sex is still held halfway between his human and dragon sizes, smaller than he is used to in this form but yet more than enough to harm Hob if he is not careful. He leans forward, braces himself on one fore-talon, splays the other heavily across Hob's shoulders to pin him down; he flexes his cock to line himself up, and then—slowly, carefully, inexorably—he pushes himself in.

Hob is slurring out a litany of 'please please please', face pressed into the furs, voice rising higher as Dream mounts him until he is as deep as he can go, two thirds or so of his length taken in. Hob groans loudly as the motion of entry ceases and Dream can feel the way Hob tries to squeeze around him, stretched too wide for it to have any sort of force at all. Dream rumbles his pleasure, draws out and pushes back in carefully, then again, and again, Hob's voice rising in approval with every slow thrust.

"Yes—aah—more—Dream—" Hob shudders as Dream sinks into him again. "Harder, please—harder—!"

Dream growls, wings rustling, tail switching; his body says 'take', his instincts say 'claim', his mate says 'more' and he cannot help but hear them clearly. He heeds all three, heeds the harmony they play within him; he braces himself and thrusts hard, heat and satisfaction flaring through him as Hob takes a sharp breath, and so he does it again.

The sound Hob makes then is gasping and wet and beautifully strained; his scent is ripe with arousal, does not stink of pain or distress and Dream is confident that this is precisely what Hob wants as he thrusts hard again and Hob cries out in delight. His own body clamors for satiation, for the thrill and the relief of rutting full bore into his willing mate but Dream still has presence of mind enough to realize he will never forgive himself if he fails to confirm and Hob winds up hurt.

He holds himself still, eases his weight from the talon pressing Hob down. "Hob. Are you—"

"Please," Hob interrupts, voice wet, raw desperation in his tone as he writhes, "please don't stop, Dream, I need I want—I can't—please!"

Dream snarls, permission given, and bears back down on his restraining talon, rolls his hips with force, shoving into Hob again and again and Hob wails his pleasure, tiny human hands scrabbling at the furs beneath him, whatever noise his bracelets make lost under the sound of his voice. Dream has positioned them so that his thrusts will not reach further than Hob's body can accommodate, but still he is hitting hard and deep and Hob is jolting, slipping from the force despite Dream pinning him down.

Dream's tail lashes, a few feathers fluttering loose, and he growls deep in his throat. Hob whimpers and then, impossibly, he is pushing back, seeking more, and Dream cannot allow any damage to come to his reckless mate in this frenzied ardor between them. He lifts his talon from Hob's shoulders and wraps it beneath his ribs and his abdomen instead, gripping gently but implacably and lifting him just enough to deprive him of any bracing leverage at the knees.

"Be still, little amber," he instructs, his voice a whip-taut growl, "and let me claim you—"

Hob makes a noise that can only be described as a sob of pleasure and goes lax in Dream's grip. Dream moves the talon nearest Hob's cock to hook beneath it, so that each thrust rocks Hob against it, ensuring another layer of stimulation, and then he is lost to the need to take, and take, and take.

Hob's voice lilts and falls and soars beautifully as Dream unleashes his want, clinging to just enough mindfulness of Hob's delicate size to keep his partial transformation unchanged. His own body sings with pleasure and need, heat coiling through him as he moves, lightning in his blood, building higher and higher in answer to Hob's cries.

He is seized, quite suddenly, with the urge to clamp his teeth in Hob's nape as he would with Hob's dragon form; the rational part of his brain thinks it terribly unwise but he is arching his neck and snaking his head down regardless, mouth open, stopping just short of his goal. He is clutching Hob close beneath his body, pounding into him relentlessly and his mind is alight with the litany of do-not-harm do-not-harm do-not-harm but instinct has his jaws yawning, aching to sink into the mating hold as he nears his finish.

"Oh fuck," Hob swears thickly, trembling and breathless as Dream looms close with such intent, "ohfuckyes Dream please yesyesyes—" His scent is ripe with desperate want; he rolls his head and tilts it down, forward, offering his neck and Dream. Cannot—

He snorts, need and frustration exhaling in a great blast of hot breath that hits Hob precisely where he wishes to set his teeth, blowing Hob's sweat-damp hair to either side, leaving the way dangerously clear. Dream's tongue slithers over the exposed vulnerability, tasting the salt of Hob's skin and the precious metal of his own treasures adorning it and a great voiceless growl shakes out of him; Hob whimpers sharply, a sweet rising note of abject need, his scent spiking with impending climax—and Dream falls upon him, helpless in the face of it.

His teeth close on the back of Hob's neck, a shallow grip intended only to hold and Hob cries out, goes rigid as he spends abruptly. It is a sudden wet warmth over Dream's talon; the smell of it blooms hot in the air around them and Dream snarls, his own peak near to cresting as Hob's body tries to bear down on the pistoning thickness of Dream within him, to little avail. He tries to gentle his teeth when he tastes blood, desperate to keep his mate from serious harm, but the tides of his own pleasure rush inexorably onward, carrying him up and up in a glorious crescendo, in harmony with the gasping notes of Hob's climax until he crashes over the edge himself, spilling into his mewling mate with a ferocious roar.

It is a great deal of fluid for a human-sized body to receive, and he means to pull back, to pull out, that Hob need not take it all. But instinct is stronger than intent, yet again, and he is only halfway withdrawn before the sheer pulsing pleasure of his release has him pushing back in. Hob moans as he is filled again, as Dream's spend is forced out of the stretched confines of his body, overflowing viscous and wet between them; Dream's body gives another miniscule thrust, just for the heady thrill of the sheer mess of it and the wet squelching sound that accompanies it.

Hob is still making little noises as Dream's climax subsides, and the sound of them is either waning pleasure or the rising of discomfort in its aftermath; his scent is free of distress, so more likely the former. Still, Dream is careful when he finally draws Hob off his length and sets him down, careful when he licks the trickling blood from the back of Hob's neck, gentle when he lays himself beside Hob, who has collapsed with a soft groan. Hob is sprawled on his belly in the furs, head turned toward Dream, eyes gleaming warmly beneath the fall of hair scattered over his face. He is disheveled and debauched and beautiful, and Dream loves him. Fiercely.

"I'm a mess, aren't I," Hob says presently, an endearing blend of exhausted, sated, and smugly pleased. The bracelets on his wrist jangle softly as he rakes a hand through his sweat-damp hair, smiles warmly up at Dream, not bothering to lift his head at all.

"Perhaps," Dream allows, idly licking Hob's spend from his talon, letting his body cool. He has released the partial transformation of his sex and allowed it to return to its full size; it is softening, drawing back within its hidden sheath, and he turns his attention fully to the state Hob is in. "Allow me to clean you up."

Hob makes a soft noise of assent and Dream rearranges himself, looming up and over, taking stock of his mate. The small wounds made by his teeth have already stopped bleeding; there are little pinpricks here and there on Hob's torso and thighs from the tips of his claws and Dream licks over each of them, making certain they're no more than superficial. Purring, he nudges his face between Hob's legs, pushing them gently further apart, applying his tongue to the spend that bedecks them. There is a great deal of it all over the backs and insides of Hob's thighs, sticky and clinging in the thick hair and Dream takes his time, thorough in his attentions. It is both grooming and aftercare, an intimately soothing ablution that Dream has always enjoyed and one he takes particular joy in sharing with Hob, wherever the mess, whatever their forms.

When he is satisfied with his work, he draws back, licks clean the disheveled short feathers of his snout, and turns his attention to Hob's arse. With careful claws he parts Hob's cheeks, gentle, delicate, and surveys the state of him.

Hob's hole is still quite open, swollen and red and laced with the remains of Dream's spend. He is not torn, is not bleeding, is gradually shrinking to close again as he should, but Dream's heart still sinks at the sight; when he gently tongues the angry flesh Hob hisses in pain, squirms a little.

"I have hurt you," Dream laments, drawing back, careful—so careful—as he lets go of Hob.

"I'll be a bit sore, I suppose," Hob says, as though it is no consequence. "Absolutely worth it, though."

"Still," Dream counters, unbalanced by Hob's nonchalance at the fact that Dream has hurt him. "I should have kept it smaller; I should have been gentler at the end. I am sor—"

"Don't you dare apologize," Hob warns, rolling over and sitting up abruptly, barely wincing, and his vehemence draws Dream up short. "I wanted it. You didn't do anything I hadn't asked for. Begged for. You gave me everything—" His voice hitches, trembling with emotion, and he swallows thickly. "Don't apologize, when it meant—it meant so much—"

Ah. Dream is focusing, he realizes, on the wrong details. Hob is near to tears, Dream can hear, and so he pulls him close, gently nestles Hob against his chest, purring. He wraps his head and tail in close, curling around Hob's small human shape protectively. "No apologies, then, my sweet amber," he assures, nuzzling at the crown of Hob's head, huffing warm breath into the still-damp mahogany of his hair. "It was. My pleasure, to give what you sought, to claim you so thoroughly."

Hob burrows into him, rubs his bearded face reverently against Dream's feathers. "Thank you," he says, soft and quiet, into the down of Dream's chest near the ruby. "I know you prefer it when we're both dragons—"

"I prefer to have my mate in whatever form he feels like sharing with me," Dream interrupts, and is mildly surprised to realise that it is true.

Hob makes an inarticulate little noise, burrowing closer. "Dream, my Dream," he murmurs, stroking his small human fingers through the soft feathers of Dream's belly, pressing his lips behind his words. "My mate, my everything. I love you."

"And I, you," Dream sighs, sated, content, sleepy. He stretches his hind legs out, switches his tail, settles comfortably and cradles Hob close to his heart with one careful talon, spreads his wing like a blanket over his mate. Hob makes a happy little noise and Dream can envision the soft smile on his face, the way his beard shapes around it and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes; he purrs, curves his head in nearer to Hob and lets his eyelids droop.

He is always pleased to sleep with Hob when Hob is in dragon form, Hob's radiant heat and golden glow cuddled up next to him, tucked against his side; likewise he is pleased, on the rare occasions it occurs, when he himself is in human form and kept warm and protected beneath the curve of Hob's wing. He is pleased enough to share Hob's bed when staying in Hob's lair, both of them in human form, comfortably cocooned in blankets and each other's arms. But ultimately, he thinks, there is something utterly irreplaceable about sleeping like this, with Hob tucked small and safe against him, held tenderly against the heart he has so thoroughly won.

=== Started: 8/9/23 Drafted: 9/3/23 Posted: 9/22/23