#wtddl

You didn’t know how long he’d been watching you for, or what his intentions were— but you knew he was always near.

You could feel him when you slept, like a tug on your hair whenever you began to dream. You knew it was him, trying to lure you to him in your sleep, his voice low and grave as he whispered to you through the fog, making you shiver every time you heard it.  

“Come to me.”

Had it not been for the fact that you’d trained yourself to wake up on command, you were sure he’d ensnare you just as he did his other prey. Always just a breath away, and yet, you could never seem to catch him. He was elusive, this Morpheus.

And you? You were determined.

Thankfully, you found yourself employed by the Vatican once more to hunt down and kill the vampire Morpheus.

Had Lady Johanna Constantine been alive, you would’ve enlisted her help in this particular case, but instead you left the tall pines and foggy roads of Transylvania and traveled to the dreary city of London alone.

The moment you got there, you got to work. You hid in dark corners at pubs and brothels, listening in for the tales those weary souls told in the middle of day, far too frightened to speak them at night.

For the first few days, it was just chatter, gossip. A friar sleeping with a married woman, a pregnant woman said to be the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary, a couple of butchers arrested for feeding half a town human meat.

And one night, just as you were about to start asking around properly, you overheard a conversation between a weathered sailor and an old man with a cigar hanging between his lips.

“Did’ya hear? Abraham Miller’s son won’t wake! Oh, surely this is the work of that damned vampire!”

“Yous telling me! Hector’s wife’s been sleeping for weeks, and the doctors don’t know s’wrong. They won’t admit it, and Hector won’t listen to reason, but I know that it did it!”

“Lower your voice, lad! He might be among us!”

“Among us? It’s the middle of the day, Paddy! What vampire ‘ave yous heard of that walks in daylight?”

He had a point, and enough reason to almost make you laugh. But still, you rose to your feet and approached them, joining them where they sat and crossing your arms over the table after placing your cup of wine to the side.

“Good evening, lads,” you said, eyes flickering between the two before you continued. “You’ll forgive me for intruding, but I reckon you two were talking about a vampire around these parts?” You asked.

The two men fell silent for a moment, exchanging a look— wondering whether they should tell you or not, you figured.

“Would it happen to be the vampire Morpheus?”

That got their attention.

“Oi! Keep your voice down!” Said the sailor you assumed was Paddy, nearly choking on the tankard of ale he’d just been bringing to his mouth to drink from. The alcohol sloshed over the rim when he put it back down on the table and leaned forward towards you to speak.

“Don’t speak his name so loud, you! It’ll hear you!” He said, brown eyes nearly bulging as he stared your unphased form down, his head swiveling about to see if anyone, anything had noticed.

No one did.

“My apologies, sir,” you apologized with an easy smile, bringing your cup of wine to your lips and taking a slow sip before placing it back down, exhaling, and lacing your fingers together over the table. “Allow me to introduce myself—“

“We know who yous are,” the other man said, turning his nose up at you like a petulant child and spitting to the side. “Been ‘round long ‘nough to recognize your lot. Yous all wear the same blasted insignia on that coat, paradin’ yourselves ‘round like yous are the—“

“Oi! That’s enough outta you, Jimmy!” Paddy berated his friend with a slap upside the head before turning to you. “Look, we can’t ‘elp you, alright? You wanna find the vampire? Best of luck t’you, but there’s not a soul here who’d agree to help a Van Helsing. So if you want any ‘elp, you won’t find it here.”

You lifted your head to look around for a moment before exhaling— it was as he’d said, all eyes were on you, and narry a kind one.

So you downed what was left of your wine, placed some silver on the table and rose to your feet. “Thank you for your help, gentlemen. Or not.”

With that, you turned and left, brushing shoulders and pushing yourself through the crowd as you left the busy pub in search of anybody who could help you.

That could wait. You needed to sleep.

But just as you were starting down the empty, lamp-lit streets of London, a voice stopped you dead in your tracks, just by the corner of the pub you’d just left.

“You’re searching for Morpheus?” A woman’s voice asked.

You turned to find an old woman sitting on a bench in a weathered coat and hat, with three dogs of different breeds sitting by her feet. Two werewolves and a hellhound, you surmised by the smell, but now wasn’t the time for that.

You weren’t hunting for werewolves or hellhounds, after all.

You appraised her for a moment before approaching slowly, your hands in the pockets of your coat, fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade you kept concealed there— just a precaution.

The old lady must’ve known, because she offered you a smile as you spoke.

“You’ve heard of him?”

“Oh, I can do you one better, love,” the old lady said. “I can take you to him. Oh! But where are my manners?”

The kindly lady bowed her head slightly in greeting. “You can call me Hettie.” And that was all she said before she turned and started walking down the alley, the opposite way from where you were going. “Come, come! We don’t have all night, after all.”

You found yourself faced with a choice— to follow this lady who would most certainly lead you to trouble, or to go home and resume your search for tomorrow.

You were determined, yes, but were you desperate?

When your feet started walking of their own accord, following the strange woman, you knew you had your answer.

Morpheus’ lips twitched in something that could resemble a smile. 

With a swift movement he picked you up and lifted you high into his arms, as if you weighed nothing. His arms shifted, supporting your legs and back. 

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and began peppering your skin with kisses again as he carried you towards the four poster bed he’d created just for you.

There was no more pretense, no more restraint. He needed you and he wanted you to feel it, see it. Feel just how desperately he wanted you. 

He felt like he was a starving man who was finally able to eat again. And he’d only just started.

You offered no resistance as the Lord of Dreams placed you down onto the soft bed to slot himself between your parted thighs, and you shifted to get comfortable. 

Morpheus groaned when he felt you under him. His face was buried in the crook of your neck again, and he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent. 

His lover’s scent. 

His body shuddered with satisfaction. He felt your hands settle on his biceps, fingers digging in the muscle to anchor yourself. 

Morpheus’ hands gripped the hem of your top, pulling it up and up until it sat over your chest. At the same time, his mouth slid down to your neck again, and this time, his fangs ached with the need to be sunk into your skin. His tongue grazed over your pulse, and he inhaled shakily through his mouth, as if he could taste your blood through your skin.

He was shaking above you, his trembling arms caging you in, keeping you in place as he fought against his baser instincts. 

He hadn’t felt like this in centuries. 

And you caught on, lifting yourself onto your forearms to look at him, a small frown on your face. “Morpheus? Are you alright?” 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he caught your wrist as you lifted your hands to place it on his jaw, but his grip eased, and he allowed you to do so with a trembling exhale. 

“Yes… yes, I am…” He answered, his voice unsteady and gruff. “I just… you’ll forgive me, I haven’t…” 

With your thumb caressing his jaw, he seemed to return to himself, lifting his head to stare down at you. “It’s been some time since I’ve last fed on blood, and I believe my body is starting to crave it…” He said, shaking his head. “But I will not use you to satiate my need for—“

“Morpheus.” You interrupted, your voice soft as you smiled at him, leaning forward to connect your lips to his for a brief moment that nearly had him chasing your lips when you pulled away. “It’s alright, you can.” 

He looked at you like you’d just hung the moon in the skies just for him, and closed his eyes to exhale, leaning into your touch. 

“I would never forgive myself if I was to hurt you…” 

You scoffed gently at that, drawing back to appraise him with a little grin on your lips. “Do you think I’ve not been bitten by a vampire before?” You teased, shaking your head. 

He didn’t seem convinced, though. Morpheus opened his mouth once more to contend, but you brushed your fingers along his jaw, silencing him with another chaste kiss. 

“I know what a vampire that’s been denying himself blood looks like, Morpheus,” you said. “I know you can’t go on like this much longer. You have to feed.”

“I’m made out of tougher stuff, darling.” You teased with a smile. “You won’t hurt me. I’m not made of glass,” you assured him once more.

He relented with a sigh, shaking his own head in return, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he chuckled silently. “No,” he agreed. “I suppose you’re not.”

Again, the Dreamweaver kissed you, gently coaxing you back down onto the soft mattress that seemed to swallow you. Your hands found the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tangled your fingers in the unruly strands and pulled him closer. 

And this time, he gave in. 

Morpheus inhaled deeply through his nose as you broke the kiss, and he sat up on his knees to tug off his coat, placing it aside as neatly as you could expect him to. 

His shirt followed, and you watched with keen eyes as his fingers moved dexterously along the buttons, undoing them with haste. 

Finally, his hands rested on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft skin. He shifted against you, and you could feel his length press against your thigh, even when confined in his trousers. 

His mouth was slightly agape, his lips red and shiny. He was breathing hard and his expression resembled pain, like he was fighting desperately against some great force as he was trying to keep himself in check. 

Morpheus took in the sight below him— you, his lover, all splayed out on the bed beneath him, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes. 

His eyes raked over your body, feasting hungrily on the way he could see your chest rise and fall with each of your breaths, the way your legs spread as he settled between them. 

He decided then that you were far too dressed for his liking. 

He undressed you slowly and with care, careful to not rip or mess up your clothing too much, and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. 

Carefully, Morpheus slid down your body, placing featherlight kisses on your heated skin as he went, until he finally found himself between your thighs. There, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the skin there. 

Your hands found themselves in his hair, and you tugged gently at the raven strands. 

“Don’t tease…” You murmured, every bit as impatient as he was.

His hands shifted, moving your other leg over his shoulder as well. He began working a trail of kisses starting from your knee, up your inner thigh. 

“I make no promises,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. 

Still, the smell of your arousal combined with the feel of the blood rushing through your veins, so warm and full of life, pulled a groan from low in his throat. 

He drew back for a moment to look up at you, and found you watching him right back. That was when he opened his mouth slightly, allowing you to see the sharp fangs that now protruded from his mouth.

And with no further pretense, Morpheus sank his sharp fangs into the plush skin of your thigh. 

You let out a gasp. 

It wasn’t because of the pain from the bite. Instead, a jolt of pleasure went through your body upon feeling the sharp fangs piercing into your flesh. It was a deep sensation, but it felt good.

Your back arched off the bed slightly as the sudden pleasure shot right through your core. 

“Oh…” You mewled, your fingers gripping his hair, fingernails scratching against his scalp.

Your sounds went straight down to Morpheus’ achingly hard length. The sound that followed, that moan that you released as he drank in your blood, was only fuel to the fire burning inside him. 

He groaned, shifting his hips against the mattress, grinding his groin against the sheets. He needed the friction, the pressure to try and ease some of the tension coiled in every muscle of his body. 

He didn’t allow himself the pleasure of properly feasting on your blood. That would come later. Morpheus took what he needed before detaching his mouth from your thigh.  

Your blood was still running down his chin when he detached from your thigh, a dribble of red trickling down his jaw and down his pale neck. 

Without hesitating, he started pressing hot open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, higher and higher. His fingers were digging in your hips possessively, sure to leave marks in their wake, his mouth leaving a trail of wet, red kisses. 

His nose brushed up against your folds, inhaling your scent. 

His hands, which were gripping your legs, slid up your thighs, hooking in the edges of your underwear before removing them with a tug, baring you completely. His mouth watered at the sight before him. 

His eyes traveled up from your mound, to your stomach, all the way up to your chest, which was heaving with every breath. Morpheus’ fingers slid down your leg, down to where you were dripping with need for him. He cursed under his breath as his fingers slid through your wet folds and found your clit. 

Your hips immediately jerked at the contact and he hissed out a harsh breath, his fingers finding your clit again and brushing his thumb against it. 

"You’re everything," he murmured, lifting his head to meet your gaze. 

Your eyes were half-lidded, chest heaving and lips parted softly so you could try and even out your breathing.

And his silver eyes were almost pleading as he leaned forward, placing a kiss to the top of your thigh, eyes never leaving yours. 

“May I?” 

You propped yourself up on your forearms to look down at him, taking in his expression. 

He was needy, staring up at you as he waited for you to give him the go ahead, to finally satiate the desire he’d felt for you since the moment you two first met. 

The desire he’d kept hidden away for centuries. 

He looked desperate, as if all semblance of control he had to his name had completely fallen away. His lips, red streaked with blood, were still hovering just above your flushed skin, so close to you where you wanted him to be. But he kept waiting. His eyes, so full of need and hunger, were staring up at you, pleading. 

Morpheus begging. 

Your mouth went dry at the sight. 

You shifted your hips, bringing your aching core closer to his face, and he moaned in response before diving in. 

His mouth found your clit and he began lapping at your folds hungrily, his hands holding onto you tightly. He felt your nails dig into his scalp again, heard his name leaving your lips in gasping breaths that were quickly turning into full on moans. 

He’d waited too long. Far too long. He’d been starved and denied himself this pleasure. But now he couldn’t get enough of you.

And that first taste almost sent him over the edge and he growled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. 

His hands shifted, sliding up the back of your thighs until his arms wrapped around them, holding you in place so you couldn’t move away from him as he took what would never be enough. 

His tongue slipped out, parting your folds, circling over your clit before sliding down and finally inside. 

Your head fell back and your eyes closed as you moaned again— a loud, unabashed sound. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly with one hand and gripped his hair with the other, fingernails scraping against the dream lord’s scalp. 

Morpheus growled again, the sound muffled against you as he started to move his tongue. 

He pulled back, sucking your clit briefly between his lips before starting to thrust his tongue into you again, working you like he’d been dreaming of since you’d first met almost three centuries ago. 

You could only moan again, your hips bucking against his face, though his grip on your thighs never loosened. The slow, dragging, languid strokes he gave left your thighs trembling where they sat over his shoulders.

You couldn’t be sure how long he’d been down there for— it could’ve been minutes, it might’ve been a good hour, before he finally drew back, breathing hard, his lips and chin shining with your slick. “I need you.” Morpheus said, his voice barely above a whisper, leaning down to press his face against you, inhaling deeply. His hands slid up to grip your hips. His thumbs dug into your hip bones, his mouth pressed into your clit again as he murmured against it. 

“I need to feel you…”

His tongue delved between your folds again, swiping along your inner walls. 

God, you were delicious. But by no fault of yours, it wasn’t enough. 

“Please...” He pulled away just enough so that he could speak, breathing heavily through his open mouth as he moved up to lay a kiss on your hipbone, just below where his fingers were gripping tightly. 

“Let me be inside you.”

The request made a soft moan leave your lips— how could you ever refuse him when he begged like that? When he stared up at you with those silver eyes, shining with barely restrained want?

You gave him a nod of your head, tipping your head back and further into the pillows as he kissed his way up your body once more, before sucking a dark mark onto your neck. 

With a sigh, you brushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face, pushing them back before sliding that same hand down to thumb over his jaw. 

“Kiss me first…” You murmured. 

Morpheus shifted again, moving his hands up from your waist to slide them around to the small of your back, lifting you slightly to bring you both closer together. 

His mouth slanted over yours hungrily, capturing your lips in a deep, scorching kiss that sent sparks dancing behind your fluttering eyelids. 

His tongue slid across your lips, seeking entrance, and when your lips parted in response, he moaned into your mouth. His hands moved down your sides, fingers gripping and squeezing and mapping out every inch of skin that he could reach.

Your own hands found themselves buried in his hair, tugging at the silky black locks, and you moaned into his mouth, arching up into his body as the kiss deepened. 

His hands moved down to grip your hips again, dragging you down the bed and away from the pillows to push you into the mattress. 

You could feel the hardness of his length against your core through his trousers. 

He thrust his hips slowly against you, seeking friction to ease the burning need inside him. 

While the friction you received from the fabric of his trousers wasn’t bad, you were growing impatient with his teasing— intentional or not, you needed it to stop. 

“Morpheus…” You breathed softly against his lips, drawing back from the kiss and staring up at him.

You couldn’t possibly wait any longer, the need to feel him inside was too overwhelming for you to even think to mind your manners. 

“I need you to fuck me.”

Those words going past your pretty lips were like a bolt of lightning straight to the gut. Morpheus’ entire body went taut at your words, his eyes darkening as he stared down at you. It seemed that whatever semblance of control he had left had now completely crumbled away. 

His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, his cock twitching between your bodies again. “Is that what you need from me?” He asked you.

God, you were going to kill him. 

“Yes…” You hissed, arching your spine slightly and rolling your hips forward to grind into him. “Please…” 

He wouldn’t make you ask again. 

In a flash of movement, you were both now completely bare, your skin hot against the dream lord’s as his entire body covered yours, lithe fingers wrapping around the plush of your thighs to wrap them around his hips. 

Morpheus lined himself up with your core, grunting as the head of his cock brushed along your wet folds, and lifted his head to look down to ask for confirmation. 

He received it in the form of a quick nod. 

And slowly, he began to push inside, placing his hands on either side of your head— both caging you in and supporting himself. His arms were already shaking as he pushed his throbbing length deeper inside you, those silver eyes not once leaving your face. 

He was gauging your reaction, wanting to make sure he didn’t hurt you or push you too far. 

But you stared up at him with half-lidded eyes, your lips parting in a soft moan and your hips canting upwards to urge him deeper into you. 

“Oh, my dear…” He bowed his head to breathe into your ear, his voice a low rumble. “My love… you feel divine…” Morpheus murmured, his parted lips leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses over the marks he’d left earlier on your neck. 

It took you a moment to adjust, but once you did, you tightened your legs around his hips, locking your ankles at his waist to keep him from pulling back too far. 

He wasn’t the one in control here, after all. 

“Slowly…” You instructed, and the King of Dreams and Nightmares yielded to your command, beginning a slow rhythm that left him almost whimpering above you. 

He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his breath coming out in fast, hot bursts. His pace was slow and steady, but the way he moved had you sighing and moaning beneath him. 

Fuck— you felt too good around him, too hot and too wet. 

He lifted his head from your shoulder to lock eyes with you again, rosy lips hanging open as he moaned helplessly. 

“(name)…” He moaned gruffly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. The feeling of your legs around his waist, your nails raking down his back, and your silken insides squeezing around his aching, straining cock was enough to drive him mad. 

Your name continued to fall from his mouth in a low groan as he thrust into you, his self-control hanging by a string. But he controlled himself as best as he could, wanting so desperately to please you the way you wanted him to. 

“That’s it…” You whispered, arching into him with a keening moan. “Oh, fuck— just like that…” 

He was hitting the spot, going slow enough for you to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. That, combined with the way he was moaning so needily right by your ear, and the way his fingers were gripping the sheets almost hard enough to tear them to shreds— oh, it was heaven. 

But you could tell he was struggling to keep the pace, his hips snapping forward every so often and earning you a silent whine of apology from the Endless above you. 

Morpheus kept an achingly slow pace, every inch of his rigid length disappearing between your folds and then back out again, each movement accompanied by a low grunt from deep in his chest— and when you gently tugged at his hair to stop him, he all but froze in place.

You leaned forward to kiss the ticking muscle of his jaw. 

“You feel so good…” You whispered, leaving a love bite at the curve of his jaw. “Let go, my sweet dream lord. I want to feel all of you…”

That was all he needed to hear, the last straw that broke the camel’s back. 

His hips snapped forward, pulling out only to slam back into you in a faster, rougher pace, picking up in speed. 

And your mouth fell open in a gasp, your fingernails digging into the muscles on either side of his spine, scratching up his back. You had to move your legs from his waist to push your feet flat against the mattress to keep you from riding up and hitting the headboard with every snap of his hips. 

He moaned into her neck, his mouth still pressed into her skin as his hips snapped forward again. All rational thought was long gone, lost to the burning need to possess, to claim, to take. You were writhing so beautifully beneath him, your body squeezing him tightly, holding him inside you as he moved with increasing speed and intensity into your slick, soft flesh. Even through his haze of lust, he could hear a low whimpering sound. It’s then he realized that it was coming from him.

He shifted then, changing the angle so that he hit deeper, your bodies pressed so close together that there was almost no space between you two— no place where the other began and ended. “Fuck…” He murmured as his eyes rolled back, and he reached between your body to circle your clit with slender fingers.

“I can’t—” he grunted, his pace fast and rough, “—I can’t hold back, (name), I’m sorry… please…”

“Ah, no…” You gasped out, your nails raking across his shoulder blades and leaving red streaks in their wake. “Fuck, don’t hold back...”

He could feel your nails marking up his back, his hair being tugged at and pulled at, but it was only adding to the pleasure that coiled inside his belly, driving him towards his peak.

It wasn’t long before you were crying out his name and tossing your head back as he emptied himself inside you, leaving you panting and slick with sweat. 

His forehead pressed into your shoulder, and you felt Morpheus slacken on top of you. With care, you slid your hands up his back, along the angry red streaks you’d left earlier, and smoothed your fingers over his hair, trying desperately to catch the breath he’d stolen from your lungs. 

You distinctly remember a gentle kiss being pressed to your temple. You remember feeling him slip himself out of you with such gentle care, you remember the soft murmurs you received as he cleaned you up. 

But you don’t remember falling asleep. 

You don’t remember the momentary feeling of loss when he suddenly disappeared from your bed, from your room. 

You don’t remember Dream of The Endless being taken from you.

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