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It was 2:37 in the morning when a sharp cry awakened Cecil Stedman. He checked the clock on his nightstand just after he opened his eyes and stretched his arms lazily. The unexpected intruder to his bedroom was nothing to be alarmed about. There were precious few on earth (or in the entire galaxy) who could breach his personal quarters, and if they meant harm, they would've already done it.
He reached over and clicked his bedside lamp on, and the room was illuminated save for the void that was his girlfriend's body. Or her mind, or her mind's body - it was never easy to describe what the Night Terror was. A living nightmare to most, but a dream to him and the one he loved.
It towered over him, nearly reaching the ceiling, and he could hardly make out any distinct features on it aside from a head, arms, and legs. It might've been facing toward him or away, but he guessed the former was more likely. A repeat of the cry which woke him only made him sure of that.
Cecil threw his blanket aside and let out a grunt as he got out of bed. Reading the body language of a shapeshifter and trying to interpret its various noises wasn't an exact science, but he'd gotten to know his girlfriend better over the time they'd spent together. There was a good chance he knew just what the Terror wanted from him that night, and he only hoped they could do it quietly enough not to wake the rest of the GDA.
He walked toward the looming shadow with a smile, craning his neck to look at where he thought its eyes might be. The Terror made an approving chirp, and he responded, "Alright, sweetheart. Let's make it quick, just-"
Then he bumped into something he couldn't see. No, he could see it - it was the Night Terror, he recognized the warmth of it as it knocked against his forehead - but he shouldn't have reached the monster yet. It was a good two feet in front of him, its waist right next to the wall. Estimating the three-dimensional proportions of what appeared as a two-dimensional shape wasn't easy, but he shouldn't have been that far off.
He began to suspect the cause as he took a step backwards, and he grimaced when he saw a better angle of the Terror. Sex wasn't going to happen that night, not with it in its current shape. The issue was less of personal discomfort and more a concern of keeping all of his organs intact.
"…Jesus Christ." He massaged his forehead as the Night Terror let out a plaintive whine. "I love you, darlin', but…no. You get why this won't work, right? You try to fit that anywhere in me and it'll come out the other side."
The Terror squeaked at him.
"I couldn't even wrap my hands around it. And I guess you don't remember telling me how you can't get stimulated in your dreams?"
It whined again.
"You did. Said it's pointless to try and get you off, so I could take care of myself and you'd be happy just seeing me come." He heaved a sigh. "We'll talk about it when you're awake. If you really want to do this, we can get something smaller."
Two shadowy heads drooped, and Cecil turned around to get back into bed. There was a good reason he was the one on top of the beast every time they had sex: it could get excited (to put it mildly), and a clear risk of injury was present even when it wasn't trying to insert part of its shapeshifting body into his. He'd imagined many ways that a supervillain might end his life over the years; almost all were more dignified than being impaled on his girlfriend's giant dream cock.
As he lay down, he looked over to the forlorn void and beckoned it closer. "C'mon, we can still cuddle. You just have to get small enough to fit on the bed."
At least he knew the Terror was gentle enough not to cause any damage as the big spoon. He turned off the lights and rolled over. With only a slight creaking of the bedframe, it made itself comfortable behind him, and Cecil frowned as what felt like a leg but was almost certainly not was stuck between his own. Somehow, it didn't feel uncomfortable. It helped that the monster seemed to misunderstand both the typical size and firmness of a human penis, as the thing between his legs was far squishier than he expected. Maybe it was just his imagination, but he could've sworn that having it there made his back ache a bit less.
He gave the bulky arm wrapped around his shoulder a pat, and said, "Goodnight, sweetheart. I'll talk to you in the morning- or in your next dream, if you wake me up again."
The Night Terror made a soft whimpering noise in his ear.
"I know you tried your best." Cecil felt it nuzzle the top of his head and smiled. "Love you too."