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Dennis attempts not to have a crisis in the shower. He tries to remember the last time he lost his temper, and fails. Such behaviour simply wasn’t tolerated in the Whitaker household, and Dennis has spent years muting his anger along with all his other worst qualities: his longing for attention, his desperation to be free of his disease, his unnamed desire.
Robby doesn't seem to mind any of those traits in him. He seems to encourage them, to find them human and endearing. What does it say about Dennis if he is so achingly attracted to someone who brings out all the worst parts of him?
'Resplendent,' Robby had said, despite the intensity of Dennis's need, the flash of his indignation, his fears and anxieties. Dennis feels himself blush again, even in the privacy of the shower. He wants to hide away in the hot water for hours, unable to face the gentleness of Robby's tolerance. He wants to march downstairs and demand Robby tell him ten thousand more nice things. He wants too much, always too much.
As he steps out of the shower, Dennis catches sight of reflection and gasps. His hand flies up to touch the dark stained bruise blooming above his scapula, the matching one on the side of his neck, the angry red beard burn all over. Robby’s fucking marked him. Dennis presses cautiously on the bruise on his neck and gasps at the small flare of pain, transporting him back to the kitchen, Robby’s mouth on him. Dennis wishes he’d not come so fast, wishes he could still be pressed against that firm body again right now, chasing release. He hopes desperately they can do all that again, that Robby’s stupid guilt hasn’t cast Dennis as permanently off limits.
More of Robby's clothes have appeared in the guest room, and Dennis feels a swell of gratitude as he crawls into the too-big sweatpants, the shirt that exposes his clavicles at the collar. Robby's words are still fresh in his head ‘in my clothes, in my kitchen,’ and it thrills Dennis to bring out that possessiveness. He wonders if this is what the corruption of the soul feels like, this heady, addictive pull. He wonders if he cares.
°
“What are you on tomorrow?” Robby asks as Dennis enters the kitchen. He is finishing up the dishes, and doesn't turn around.
“Day shift.”
“With me,” Robby notes. “Good. I've packed you a lunch, stuff you can eat on the fly. Try not to mess up my work station this time.”
“Oh, thank you, you really didn't have to do that." Dennis is stunned by Robby's indefatigable consideration. He is going to have to watch that, Robby's penchant for overextending himself in every possible way. He gnaws on his cheek. "I feel like most people don't really eat on shift.”
“Yeah, well you will be,” Robby replies with that authoritative air of his.
“Do you?”
“Not usually.”
“Then I don't need to,” Dennis decides.
Robby sets the last dish on the mat and pulls the drain out of the sink. He dries his hands, and God, but Dennis loves the look of him, his exacting gestures, his lean strength. He turns, finally, eyeing Dennis standing there in his clothes.
“Ever heard of do as I say, not as I do?” Robby asks, an eyebrow quirking.
"Ever heard of applying your own oxygen mask before assisting others?" Dennis crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow in return.
“Fine, fine,” Robby concedes, rolling his eyes. “I will eat something. One of those cardboard protein bars you bought. And you will eat your lunch. All of it. And drink water.”
Dennis nods, knowing when to fold. “Fine.”
Robby shakes his head, amused. “I thought you liked being told what to do, not engaging in a barter economy.”
Dennis only shrugs. He wants to say something, but all that comes to mind is another cliché, like they always say in self-care lectures in medical school, while working them 80 hours a week. ‘You have to take care of yourself, so you can care for others.’ Robby would be just as annoyed at that as Dennis always is, and no one could blame him. How can anyone take proper care of themselves in the face of overwhelming systemic failure? So Dennis will take caring for Robby into his own hands.
“You okay?” Robby asks quietly.
“Yeah,” Dennis replies, finding it to be true. He has somehow managed to keep the wave of shame at bay. He wishes Robby would kiss him again, but he doesn’t know how to ask for that.
“Good. Do you want to talk?”
“Not really,” Dennis admits. “I know we should. I just…”
“Doesn’t have to be tonight,” Robby agrees. “I was going to put something brainless on TV.”
“That sounds good.”
“Good. I want a beer, you want a beer?”
“I don't really drink.”
“Of course you don't.”
°
Once in the living room, Robby takes a corner of the plush sectional. Dennis has a panicky moment of not knowing where to go. He gives Robby what must be a wide-eyed, helpless look.
“Just when you were getting so good at telling me what you want,” Robby chides him, but he doesn’t seem annoyed. “I've already messed up once by assuming, and I don't want to do it again. I can't read your mind, kiddo, so you are going to have to just say it. You want to cuddle, or no? Whatever you want, okay?”
“I want to,” Dennis replies quickly, slipping into the space Robby creates by extending an arm over the back of the couch.
“You good?” Robby asks, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Dennis's head.
Dennis draws his knees up and relaxes into Robby's side. This is another one of those normal human things that Dennis has just never done before, and it feels so cozy and fantastic.
“I'm good,” Dennis replies belatedly.
Robby's arm drops down round his shoulders and squeezes.
“You are. So good.”
It doesn't seem to get old, even if Dennis did nothing to deserve it. The praise only serves to stoke the warm, aching blaze that Dennis keeps tucked behind his ribs. The more it is fed, the more ravenous Dennis becomes.
“Pick your brainrot: game show, reality TV, or overwrought police procedural?”
°
They melt into each other as the evening continues, until Dennis finds himself as the little spoon, fitted tightly against Robby on the couch. He loves the closeness, and is paying very little attention to what is on the television, and quite a lot of attention to what Robby’s hand is up to.
It started just wrapped around his waist, but has since slid down to the place where Dennis’s shirt meets the waistband of his sweats. The pad of one finger creates space between the two and Dennis’s eyelids flutter shut so he can focus solely on Robby’s touch. At first, Robby just traces the line of loose sleep pants, forward around Dennis’s obliques and abs, then back across the very top of his ass. After a few repetitions of this path, Robby experimentally slides the entirety of his hand against the bare skin of Dennis’s hip. Dennis wriggles encouragingly.
“We should talk first, probably,” Robby murmurs, muting their show. His mouth finds the back of Dennis’s neck, beard irritating the already inflamed skin there. The stinging bite of pain only adds to Dennis’s arousal.
“Don’t want to talk,” Dennis whines. “Just want to be touched.”
Robby chuckles and scrapes his teeth against the bruise on Dennis’s neck and his hand roams further south, finding the swell of Dennis’s ass and palming it. Dennis has to suppress a moan. “Can’t fucking get enough of you,” Robby tells him reverently. His touch changes direction once again, and his hand sweeps back around to Dennis’s front, past the ridge of his iliac spine to tangle briefly in the hair over Dennis’s pubic bone, knuckles grazing Dennis’s erection, but only just.
“Don’t want you to,” Dennis murmurs, and then Robby’s fingers are coasting up over his abdominals to his chest, gently teasing at a nipple as he sucks a new bruise onto Dennis’s neck, his arousal making itself known, an impressive line against Dennis’s ass. Dennis doesn’t even try to stop himself from grinding back into it.
Robby grips him by the throat.
“Harder,” Dennis mewls needily, loving the power in the touch, wanting to feel consumed, overwhelmed, and surrounded.
“Easy, baby,” Robby cautions, tightening his grip, enough to hurt. “I’m going to take my time with you, hm?”
Dennis nods obediently, torn between wanting exactly that, and wanting to just be held down and taken, roughly and brutally, without a care for his pleasure. He doesn’t understand how he can crave two such disparate things, but when it comes to Robby, he wants it all.
Robby uses one finger to trace Dennis’s lower lip before tapping it, demanding entry. Dennis rushes to comply, unclamping his jaw, lips parting. And then Robby is in his mouth, a blunt finger languidly exploring the ridges of Dennis’s teeth, pressing down on his tongue. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is. The invasiveness of it undoes him, filthy and electrifying. Robby finds the inflamed ridge of tissue in Dennis’s inner cheek, the one he perpetually chews on in moments of anxiety.
“Going to have to break this habit,” Robby informs him, nosing in to take Dennis’s earlobe between sharp teeth.
“Uh-huh,” Dennis manages, as best he can with Robby still probing around in his mouth.
Robby adds another finger. There is more force, more direction this time, both fingers pushing back towards his throat. Dennis starts sucking instinctively. Rooting reflex, he thinks absurdly.
“So fucking pliable,” Robby whispers. “I know this puppy’s got teeth when he needs them, and I respect that, I do. But you are a fucking masterpiece like this, so submissive, so eager, Christ, I can’t take it. Going to gag for me, honey?”
Dennis nods enthusiastically, his cock twitching eagerly at the idea. Robby’s fingers push mercilessly forward, triggering the response. Dennis gags, a confused swell of pride and embarrassment filling his chest. It’s such an ugly, gross thing, but Robby murmurs ‘fuck' in his ear in a way that makes it feel so worth it. Dennis forces his head forward, getting Robby’s fingers in the right spot to recreate it.
Robby slips his wet fingers out from between Dennis’s lips and returns to his previous assault on Dennis’s nipple. It’s less gentle this time.
“You like gagging on Papa’s fingers, baby?” Robby asks and Dennis worries he is at risk of coming untouched for a second time tonight.
“Yes,” he hisses.
“Tell me why.”
Dennis squirms at the question, cheeks hot. Somehow, talking about it is so much worse than just doing it.
“Dennis,” Robby warns sternly, “we can’t do it if you can’t say it.”
“I don’t know,” Dennis mumbles. “It’s a lot of things. Makes me feel overpowered, like, controlled. It’s humiliating a bit, but in a good way, sacrificing my dignity just to make you hard. Feels dirty.”
Dennis is rewarded by the slow thrust of Robby’s cock against his ass, his breath turns ragged where it streams past Dennis’s neck.
“Jesus Christ, kid,” Robby says appreciatively. “The fucking mouth on you.” He unceremoniously shoves his fingers back into Dennis’s throat, making him gag a third and a fourth time, until his body heaves and his eyes water. “You want to be dirty for me, hm? Wish it was my cock you were choking on? You’ll stop gagging eventually, once I’ve got you all trained up. Would you like that, being an expert at sucking Daddy’s cock?”
Dennis cries out around Robby’s fingers, delirious with arousal.
“Sorry, was that too much, kiddo?” Robby asks, with sudden, endearing concern. He quickly extracts his hand from Dennis’s mouth.
Dennis shakes his head. Weirdly, it is not enough.
“Words,” Robby demands.
“It’s good. Really good. Promise,” Dennis gasps.
Robby grips Dennis by the jaw and turns his head to face him. Robby’s expression is dark and wild with desire, and it is so fucking exciting that Dennis almost takes himself in hand right then and there.
“So sweet when you cry for me,” Robby observes, voice hushed as he kisses away Dennis’s tears.
“Why don’t you tell me what else you like,” Robby offers, his hand drifting downwards. “And if you do a good job, I’ll let you come. You okay if I touch you here?” His hand circles loosely around Dennis’s bare cock and Dennis all but leaps forward.
“Yes, yes, please,” Dennis begs.
Robby’s grip tightens and he begins to stroke forward, pace torturously slow.
“Let’s see,” Robby muses. “I already know you like being bossed around a little.”
“Yeah,” Dennis huffs.
“And if I’m not wrong, you like a little pain.”
“A little,” Dennis agrees. Robby squeezes his cock, a reward for good behaviour.
“What sort of pain?”
Dennis’s mind is having a difficult time keeping up. He forces his thoughts away from his aching cock, his ardent need for Robby to just fucking jerk him off already.
“I don’t know,” he gets out. “I’ve not done anything with anyone besides you.”
Robby makes a noise a little like a growl. “I shouldn’t like that so much,” he mutters.
“I think I like, uh, when you bite me, when you choke me, grab my hair, and put me where you want me. Might like if you slapped me, I don’t know.”
“Slap like spank?” Robby presses, still working Dennis languidly, not providing even close to enough pressure to get him off.
“Yes, I think definitely that. And maybe my face, I don’t know.”
“Good boy,” Robby tells him, tightening his hold. “Don’t think I could bring myself to hit your pretty face, so that’s going to be a limit for me, but your ass is fair game.”
Dennis nods, almost awed by Robby’s natural frankness, the easy way he can say yes and no without torment. It helps, Dennis believes, makes it normal.
“Seems like you also like a bit of humiliation,” Robby continues.
“A bit,” Dennis agrees. “Like when you are,” he cuts himself off with a gasp as Robby jerks his cock, more firmly than before. Dennis wants to come so badly, but also wants to let all this linger for hours at the same time. “Patronizing,” he picks up. “When you embarrass me a bit, tell me what to do, make me say the hard things out loud, but I don’t like cruel. I don’t want to be put down, or made fun of or anything, it’s got to be framed as like, I don't know, care. Control.”
Robby closes in, kissing Dennis’s mouth fully, his beard prickling and scratchy against Dennis’s face. Dennis loves it, loves letting Robby in, his lips parted and Robby’s tongue persistent against his, teeth hooking onto Dennis’s lip.
“I couldn’t stomach being cruel to something as sweet as you,” Robby reassures him. “But thank you for letting me know. You’re being so good, baby, you know that? Telling me how to turn you on. I love hearing what’s in your head. What about edging, teasing, denial?”
“Like what you're doing right now?” Dennis grouses.
“Mmhm, do you like it?”
“Yes,” Dennis capitulates. “Wish I didn’t.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.”
In reward, Robby finally stroking Dennis at a pace where orgasm feels achievable.
“Liked you making decisions for me, planning out my day, " Dennis continues, his arousal loosening his tongue. "Feels hot and belittling, like I can’t do things for myself. Which I know I can, I just...” Dennis pants.
“Can you, though?” Robby questions, tone dripping with condescension. “You’re so young, so inexperienced. You need Papa to show you how to be a good boy, how to please, when to beg, when to come, to decide if you’ll get to come at all.”
The awful dread that sweeps through Dennis at thought of being stranded and abandoned here, throbbing and shaking with need only adds fuel to the firestorm burning through him, whirling him towards completion.
“No, no, no, please let me. I’m so close. Please.”
“Please what?”
Dennis throws a hand over his face. It was easier before, when that word spilled out when Robby couldn’t see him, but now it feels wretchedly humiliating, too intimate, too terrifying, there’s too much at stake.
“No, Dennis,” Robby pulls his hand away. “Eyes on me.”
“Please, Daddy,” Dennis forces the word out from between his teeth, certain he has never blushed this brightly in his whole life. Robby looks fucking wrecked. His forehead bumps against Dennis’s temple and he presses violent kisses to Dennis’s cheek.
“Your filthy fantasies and your fucking angelic face,” Robby growls, his hand is rough, smearing through Dennis’s precum, the friction almost intolerable. “Pretty baby needs Daddy to take care of him, hm?”
“Yes, yes, please. Please, Papa, please make me feel good, wanna be good for you, please, please,” he babbles.
He feels Robby reach into his own pants, jerking himself in brutal time with Dennis. He tugs at the top of Dennis’s pants.
“Against your skin,” he entreats. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” Dennis agrees, soaring the high of being desperately, carnally wanted.
“Fuck,” Robby curses, his cockhead skimming along the small of Dennis’s back, slipping against the top of his crease, he’s thick and dripping and perfect. “Fuck, gonna come, come with me, angel, that’s it,”
Dennis is flung off the edge, toppling over, spasming hard into Robby’s grasping palm as Robby coats his back with an shuddering cry.
“Jesus,” Robby says quietly, kissing Dennis’s jaw. “So much for my noble intentions. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
Dennis feels hollowed out and totally lax, spacey and happy. “Didn’t ask you to,” he points out.
“No, no, you didn’t.” Robby doesn’t stop kissing him, his ear, his forehead, his nose, his mouth, adoring and slow. “Christ, that was hot. You feel good, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, Daddy,” Dennis murmurs. “Real good.”
°
Robby does join him in the shower this time, rough hands turned gentle as he soaps Dennis down. He seems half-obsessed with the marks he’s left on Dennis’s neck, his fingertips lingering over them.
“I’ll get you some concealer tomorrow before work,” he determines, but he sounds almost reluctant.
“Hm?” Dennis asks, still all warm, dozy, and content.
“Make-up, just to avoid awkward conversations,” Robby explains.
“Okay,” Dennis replies. The idea doesn’t bother him, but then again he doesn’t think much would bother him right now.
“Dennis,” Robby’s tone is a bit serious. Dennis looks up at him, trying his best to focus. “I should ask. I know that not that all kink springs from trauma or anything like that, but your childhood was a bit messed up, and I just want to make sure I’m not stepping my foot into anything.”
“Hm?” Dennis tries to focus on the words.
“The Papa stuff,” Robby says. “No history of like, sexual abuse or anything? Not that you have to tell me, I just...”
“No!” Dennis says quickly, the haze in his head drying up quickly, given the subject matter. “No, oh my God, I swear it has nothing to do with my literal father, and no one messed with me when I was a kid, not like that. It just…feels good, like, so bad it’s good, you know?”
“Oh, I know,” Robby agrees. “I just don’t trust high control religion types, that’s all. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t drudging stuff up by playing along.”
It’s sweet, how concerned he looks.
“You’re in the clear,” Dennis promises. “You don’t have to worry so much about me, you know. I think you’re allowed to just enjoy it, right?”
Robby smiles but shakes his head. “We’ve got to talk. No more sex until we’ve talked. I mean it this time. We need a plan to balance things out, so I don’t feel like such a creep.”
“You’re not a creep,” Dennis assures him.
“That’s sweet of you, honey,” Robby sighs. “But when it comes to you, I definitely am.”
He turns off the water and steps out of the shower. He hands Dennis a towel and takes one for himself.
“You sleeping with me tonight?”
“Yes,” Dennis replies instantly.
“Sleeping,” Robby emphasizes. “We both have an early morning.”
“Yes, Robby,” Dennis says obediently. They’ll see about that.