Work Text:
Dennis Whitaker had never been in control.
Not in his studies. Not in how he navigated his dynamic. Not in who he was allowed to befriend, or who his family decided he would eventually marry and mate. Not in where he was supposed to live after he graduated with his theology degree from Mid-Plains Community College.
That changed the second semester of his junior year. He doubled down on a pre-med path without telling his parents, using money scraped together from six years at the front desk of Mrs. Robinson’s hair shop. The night he graduated, he packed everything he owned in that tiny MPCC dorm room, caught the Amtrak to Pittsburgh, and never looked back.
Now, Dennis Whitaker is always in control.
Sure, he’d lived in a shitty two-bedroom with a foul-smelling beta until the money ran out. Sure, he’d bounced between shelters before claiming the abandoned eighth wing of the hospital as his own. And sure, he was found by his now sister in everything but blood, Trinity Santos, and lives with her and her constant nagging.
But he chose to do these things.
He’s now an open and proud Omega who is doing incredible things. He’s saving people, he’s making a difference. He’s who he has always wanted to be.
Wanting though.
That’s the one thing that came with having control over his own life that he wasn’t prepared for. Wanting things and being oh so very close to obtaining them. Wanting something so badly it lived under his skin like a second pulse.
The first time he saw Dr. Jack Abbot on his second shift in The Pitt’s ER, he found out he wanted him. Badly.
Trinity always made fun of him for it during their commute home. "Why chase him when you have a perfect attending right there for you to take?” She would ask.
Robby did fit the type on paper: older, in the medical field, accomplished, would probably have a huge knot for him to bounce on.
And while Dennis loved the attention from the older Alpha (he’s deprived of anything else besides Billy Bowman from the farm over with two crooked teeth and a brain to match), something just never felt right with him. The hands on the back of his neck felt too close to the scruffings of his older brothers or fathers. The disguised “re-direction” of cases felt more like scoldings from his mother reminding him of an “Omega’s place.” It wasn’t home. It was the cage he’d escaped.
Jack, though… Jack felt like the home Dennis wanted to build.
So, he completely and utterly immersed himself in the idea of Jack Abbot.
Got to learn.
Got to notice things he shouldn't.
The way Jack always arrived at least fifteen minutes early for every shift, only to spend ten of those minutes pretending he hadn't.
The way he drank terrible gas station coffee like it personally offended him, but left Dennis a latte from the expensive cafe from around the corner.
The way he always gave away the last granola bar from his locker, despite grumbling every single time.
The way every nurse on the floor trusted him with their hardest patients.
The way every resident unconsciously looked for him when things went sideways.
The way he remembered names.
Not just staff.
Patients.
Family members.
The terrified father in room six.
The little girl with the broken arm.
The frequent flyer who swore at everyone except Jack.
He remembered all of them.
The way he touched people, too.
Carefully.
Like he understood exactly how much strength lived in his hands.
Like he knew what it meant to be frightened and hurting.
Like nobody should ever have to be either of those things alone.
Dennis learned quickly that Jack's gruffness was mostly decorative.
A warning label slapped over a man who'd give away his lunch, his time, and half his paycheck if somebody needed it.
The real problem was that the more Dennis noticed, the harder it became to pretend it was just a crush.
Because Jack wasn't simply handsome.
Though he absolutely was.
The gray creeping into his beard. The broad shoulders. The forearms Dennis occasionally caught himself staring at during procedures.
No.
The problem was that Jack felt safe.
Steady.
Like the sort of home Dennis had spent his entire life trying to build for himself.
He let the fantasy carry him through heats at first. But it grew. It rooted. It became something he couldn’t stop reaching for.
Pediatrics rotation had been the real beginning. He’s always had a soft spot for pups and he knew his natural scent was more soothing than most, especially since he was an Omega. He even found himself now wanting a few in the future, despite vowing to never have children in a heated argument with his parents one night back in high school.
Dennis doesn’t know if it was the sudden pop of color with the pink scrubs, maybe the fullness returning to his figure after living with Trinity for a few months, or maybe finally occupying the same space for more than five minutes, but he finally felt the eyes of Jack Abbot fall on him and linger during this rotation.
It started when there was a pup, a sweet little girl, involved in MVC and they needed a pedes consult. Dennis had felt Jack still the moment their eyes met across the trauma bay, but he forced himself to keep moving, to help the little girl, but if he let out a few extra pheromones when grabbing an instrument from the nurse who stood beside the Alpha, nobody had to know.
Then he kept making trips down to the ER.
“Oh, Santos, you left your bus pass in my wallet!” “Oh, Dana I have that banana bread recipe if you want to try it out!” “Anything new on the betting board?”
Sure, he did want Santos to have her bus pass, Dana that recipe, and to know if anything juicy was going on to put a five down for, but doubling as making himself known in the space was worth the extra “bathroom” breaks he took.
Now, he’s finally back in the Pitt, full time, almost a year later and splitting his time between day and night shifts, much to the chagrin of his roommate. He mourns the fact that pink really did suit him, but the black scrubs are where he’s supposed to be.
Robby left for his sabbatical exactly two months ago and Dennis has never felt more free. He loved getting to take the cases he wants, having time to chat with his co-workers, making his Alpha- Jack jealous. If he flirted with Jesse during his swing shifts just to get Jack to ask him a mindless question about a case or ask him about whatever book he’s reading at the time, just to pull those quiet, gravel-rough questions out of the Alpha that is nobody's business but him, and it worked better than he’d dared hope.
“Huckleberry!” Trinity’s voice rang across the floor, her grin shit-eating and a mark barely hidden by concealer. She shoved her bag into her locker. “You’re still on for tonight, right?”
‘Was that Ellis or Garcia’ Dennis thinks to himself.
“You’re still on for tonight right?” She asks as she walks past him in the direction of the locker rooms. Dennis slams down his tablet on the counter and follows into the room.
“It was a long night Trin, I don’t know. I don’t even really have a costume and-”
Trinity shoves her bag into her locker and slams it shut, cutting him off, rude.
“Absolutley none of that.”
“Trin, I’m not kidding, I don’t know if I have the energy to go clubbing all night especially on Hallo-”
“Now listen here Fuckleberry,” she says, backing him up into the wall, smelling like an aloe vera plant set on fire.
“I cashed in my favor for- actually where is he?”
Dennis sits there, hands in surrender, looking around the room.
“Where is who?”
“Your shadow.” She answers, still looking around.
“What? Who- oh, Jack.”
Okay, maybe his plan has been working a tad bit. A lot bit. An empire state building amount bit.
Without Robby breathing down his neck he has been able to flounce around the ER a bit and that may have gotten the attention of the Alpha of his objections and desires, and he may follow him around like his own security detail ever since he’s been scheduled for nights.
“He’s wrapping up with a patient in south 3. Should be done in about ten to walk me to the bus station.” Much to the annoyance of the Alpha, Dennis wouldn’t let him drive him home. Dennis doesn’t know if it’s a pride thing he has or if he just wants to make Jack work for it, but seeing him squirm a little bit every time he waves goodbye and sits on the bench does something to him. He attributes it to being sheltered as a pup, he guesses.
“Well, I cashed in my favor he owed me, and I used it on you okay. You want that old ass man and tonight you’re going to get him. So you’re going to go home, make sure your white tank and ridiculously skimpy jean shorts are ironed, find the glitter and eyeliner and set it out in the bathroom, get some sleep and be ready to pregame with me and the girls for the bars, got it?” She’s talking in that weird in between whisper she has that sends shivers down Dennis’ spine, like when he ate all the avocados.
But, because he’s a brat, he asks, “Trin who am I even going to be with a costume like that?”
She scoffs and starts walking back onto the floor to clock in.
“You are a blonde, twink, come on Huck.”
He stays silent while he follows her as she grabs his forgotten tablet.
“Troye Sivan, you idiot!” She exclaims as she turns around to meet his smirking face. “Oh, I loathe you, you little fucking-”
“Ahem.” Dennis instantly relaxes, the smell of a crisp glass of bourbon on a deck in the middle of a forest wraps around him. The gravelly voice of the Night Crawler’s captain feeds into his soul.
“Sorry to interrupt, but are you ready to go Den? Finished up in three quicker than I thought.”
“Yeah, let’s bounce. I’ll see you at home, Trini.”
The bar is loud.
Not unbearably loud. Dennis grew up sneaking into county fairs and church socials where somebody's cousin always thought they could DJ, but loud enough that the bass rattles pleasantly in his ribs.
The costume is ridiculous.
That is, unfortunately, the point.
Trinity had appeared in the apartment three hours ago with a curling iron, a six-pack, and the kind of determination usually reserved for hostage negotiations.
Now Dennis is standing in the middle of a packed dance floor dressed as Troye Sivan, glitter dusted across his collarbones, eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, and shorts so short he can practically hear his mother's disappointed silence from three states away.
Worth it.
Especially because-
"Oh my God."
Mel nearly spits out her drink.
"What?" Dennis asks.
Victoria follows Mel's stare toward the entrance and immediately folds in half laughing.
"Oh no."
Dennis turns.
And nearly walks directly into another dancer.
Because standing by the bar, looking completely out of place in dark jeans and a black henley, is Jack Abbot.
Jack Abbot.
At a bar.
On his day off.
Dennis stares.
Jack stares back.
The world narrows instantly.
"Trinity Santos," Dennis says slowly.
Across the room, Trinity raises her drink.
Then gives him a thumbs up.
That little traitor.
Dennis can't even be mad.
Because Jack looks…
Well.
Dennis has spent the better part of a year imagining Jack looking at him.
He's imagined it in supply closets.
In elevators.
During night shifts.
Across trauma bays.
He's imagined what it would feel like to have Jack's full attention pointed directly at him.
Turns out reality is significantly worse.
Or better.
Definitely hotter.
Jack isn't talking.
Isn't drinking.
Isn't doing anything except staring.
The Alpha looks like somebody has just informed him Dennis is the last glass of water on earth.
"Oh my God," Victoria says again.
"Don't."
"Oh he's gone."
"Don't."
"That man is fighting for his life."
Dennis takes a sip of his drink to hide his smile.
Because she isn't wrong.
Even from across the room he can see it.
The way Jack's shoulders have gone rigid.
The way his jaw tightens every time somebody brushes past Dennis.
The way his eyes keep tracking him.
Not casually.
Definitely not professionally.
Dennis feels warmth bloom low in his stomach.
There he is.
Months.
Months of lingering in hallways.
Months of finding reasons to stop by the ER.
Months of brushing shoulders.
Months of making eye contact and pretending he didn't know exactly what it was doing to the Alpha.
And now Jack is standing across a crowded bar looking like Dennis personally ruined his evening.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
"You're smiling."
Dennis glances toward Mel.
"I am not."
"You have that look."
"What look?"
"The one you get before you cause problems."
Dennis gasps.
"I have never caused problems in my life."
All three women laugh.
Dennis finishes his drink.
Then deliberately turns back toward the dance floor.
Because if Jack is going to stare-
Well.
The least Dennis can do is give him something to stare at.
The next song starts.
Something loud and obnoxious.
Dennis lifts his arms and lets himself relax into the music.
He laughs when Victoria nearly falls over attempting some dance move.
Lets Mel spin him around.
Lets himself be happy.
Because that's the thing nobody really understands about Dennis Whitaker.
He's not dancing for Jack.
Not really.
He's dancing because he likes dancing.
He's laughing because he's having fun.
He's wearing glitter and eyeliner because life is short and his family already thinks he's going to hell.
If Jack likes what he sees… that's just a bonus.
Still.
When he turns during the chorus and catches Jack watching him again still standing in exactly the same spot. Still looking a little wrecked. Still looking at Dennis like he's the only person in the room-
Dennis can't help it.
A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Slow. Knowing.
Mean enough to make a point.
Jack visibly stills.
Oh. Oh, that's dangerous.
Dennis feels his pulse jump.
‘There you are, old man.’
The challenge hangs between them.
Across twenty feet of crowded dance floor. Across months of stolen glances. Across every almost-conversation and every excuse Dennis ever invented to stay a little longer.
Do something.
Jack's eyes darken.
Then he sets down his drink.
Dennis nearly laughs.
Because finally.
Finally.
Jack Abbot starts walking toward him.
The crowd parts around Jack almost automatically.
People move for him.
They always do.
There's something about him that demands space without ever asking for it.
Dennis has watched it happen in trauma bays, hallways, waiting rooms.
Watched people hand him control of a situation without realizing they'd done it.
But when Jack reaches him, Dennis doesn't move.
Doesn't step back.
Doesn't make it easier.
Because if Jack wants him, Dennis has decided he can work for it a little.
The Alpha stops close enough that Dennis catches the familiar scent immediately.
Cedar.
Bourbon.
Clean autumn air.
It cuts through the crowded bar and settles around him.
Warm.
Steady.
Dangerously comforting.
"Didn't take you for a bar guy, Dr. Abbot," Dennis says.
Jack huffs a laugh.
The sound immediately goes to Dennis's head.
"Didn't take you for..." Jack gestures vaguely.
The shorts. The tank top. The eyeliner. Fuck, Trinity is good.
Dennis glances down at himself.
"What?" he asks. "You don't like it?"
The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.
A challenge. A deliberate one.
Jack's eyes darken.
Dennis nearly grins.
Got him.
"Didn't say that."
Oh.
That comes out lower than Dennis expects.
Softer.
Like Jack's forgotten they're having a conversation and not whatever this is.
For a moment neither of them says anything.
The music pounds around them.
People dance past them.
Somewhere behind Dennis, Trinity is probably having the time of her life.
But all Dennis can focus on is Jack.
The way he's looking at him.
Not glancing.
Not watching.
Looking.
Like Dennis is something worth studying.
Something worth wanting.
Heat crawls up the back of Dennis's neck.
And then-
Oh.
Jack's hands are on his waist.
Dennis doesn't know when that happened.
Doesn't remember seeing them move.
Just suddenly finds himself standing between those broad shoulders with Jack's palms resting against the small of his back.
The contact is light.
Almost careful.
Like Jack's waiting for permission.
Dennis leans in automatically.
The reaction seems to short-circuit something in the Alpha's brain.
"I don't want to do this here."
Dennis blinks.
"Do what?"
And he means it.
Because as far as Dennis is concerned, they've been flirting for nearly a year.
Jack, apparently, is operating under different rules.
The Alpha just stares at him.
Really stares.
His attention drops briefly to Dennis's throat.
Then lower.
Then back up.
Like he's trying very hard to remember how conversations work.
Honestly?
It's adorable.
"Hey."
Dennis reaches up, hooking his arms loosely around Jack's neck.
"Hey, come back to me."
Jack blinks.
Slowly.
Like somebody waking up.
When his eyes finally focus, Dennis nearly laughs.
The man looks wrecked.
"I didn't think dancing would get this much of a reaction out of you."
A flush immediately creeps across Jack's cheeks.
Victory.
Small.
But satisfying.
"Sweetheart," Jack says, voice rough enough to make Dennis's stomach flip, "you could rile me up just by looking at me."
For a second Dennis forgets every response he'd ever prepared.
Every clever line.
Every teasing comeback.
All gone.
Because Jack said it so simply.
Like it was obvious.
Like Dennis should've known.
And maybe he did.
Still.
Hearing it is different.
"Let's go outside?" Dennis says before he can overthink it. "There's a bench across the street. Trinity got us wristbands, so we can come back when you're ready to dance with me."
The look Jack gives him is almost painfully fond.
"We can dance now."
Dennis snorts.
"Jack."
"I don't want to drag you away like a grumpy old man."
There it is. The thing Dennis had spent months noticing. The thing beneath all the grumbling and the stern looks and the impossible competence.
Jack is kind.
Almost aggressively so.
Even now, when Dennis can practically feel the possessive instinct radiating off him.
Even now.
He's worried about ruining Dennis's night.
"Jack, honey."
Dennis settles his hands on the Alpha's arms.
Feels the muscle jump beneath them.
"I've been trying to talk to you for months."
That finally earns a startled look.
Dennis laughs.
"Come on, big man, let’s go have a seat."
Dennis takes Jack's hand the second he gets the chance.
Not because he's worried the Alpha won't follow.
Because he wants to see if he will.
He does. Immediately.
Dennis has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
The walk across the street is quick. Cool October air replaces the crush of bodies and heat from the bar. By the time they reach the bench, Jack looks only slightly less overwhelmed.
Only slightly.
"Sit," Dennis says, patting the spot beside him.
Jack sits so fast Dennis nearly laughs.
God.
For someone so intimidating, the man can be painfully earnest.
"So..." Dennis starts.
"So."
Jack's voice has gone rough.
Dennis notices.
Apparently Jack notices him noticing because the Alpha immediately looks away, fixing his attention on the bar across the street.
Interesting.
The great Jack Abbot can't make eye contact.
Dennis studies him for a moment.
The broad shoulders. The stubborn jaw. The way his hands rest on his knees like he's trying very hard not to reach for Dennis again.
Then he reaches out and hooks a finger beneath Jack's chin.
Gently.
The Alpha lets himself be turned.
Dennis's chest does something ridiculous.
"I don't want to fuck this up, Dennis."
The confession lands heavily between them.
Not because it's surprising. Because it's honest. Dennis has spent months learning Jack.
Learning the difference between what he says and what he means.
Learning that beneath all the grumbling and authority and competence is a man who cares so deeply it hurts him.
A man who's terrified of getting things wrong. Especially the things that matter.
"I don't think you could fuck up, Jack."
He means it.
Jack's expression softens. Just a little. Enough.
The silence that follows isn't awkward. They're both too aware of each other for awkward. The cedar and bourbon scent that always seems to surround Jack drifts through the cool night air. Dennis's own honey-and-sunshine scent answers instinctively.
Blending.
Settling.
Comfortable.
Like they've been sitting together like this for years.
"I'll start."
Jack immediately tenses. Dennis squeezes his hand.
"Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"Jack."
The Alpha huffs. Dennis smiles. Then shifts a little closer. Not much. Just enough for their knees to brush.
Intentional.
Grounding.
"You know you're not subtle, right?"
Jack's eyes narrow immediately. Defensive. Caught. Cute.
"No, seriously," Dennis continues. "You think you are, but you're not."
A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
"The coffee."
Jack blinks.
"The what?"
"The coffee that magically appears whenever I'm on shift."
Jack opens his mouth. Closes it again. Dennis continues before he can recover.
"The way you somehow end up exactly where I am."
A pause.
"The staring."
Jack groans quietly, Dennis grins.
"God, the staring, Jack."
"I wasn't-"
"You were."
The protest dies instantly. Dennis watches realization slowly begin to dawn.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
His fingers tighten around Jack's.
"I noticed you a long time ago."
The admission feels easier than he expected. Maybe because it's true. Maybe because Jack deserves the truth.
"Before pedes. Before pink scrubs. Before any of that."
Jack looks genuinely surprised.
"You did?"
Dennis nods.
"You were just harder to get close to."
The words hit something. Dennis sees it happen. The tension in Jack's shoulders eases. Just a little. Enough.
"And then you looked." A small shrug.
"And you didn't stop."
There's no embarrassment in the statement. No accusation. Just fact. The sky is blue. Trinity is nosy. Jack Abbot stared at him for months. All equally true.
"So I started picking up swings."
Jack's eyes widen.
"Nights too."
"Dennis..."
"I figured if you weren't going to do anything about it, I might as well make it easier for you."
The look Jack gives him is almost worth the entire year.
Almost.
"You knew?"
Dennis laughs. Actually laughs.
"Jack."
The Alpha immediately looks offended. Dennis leans closer. Just enough to make his point.
"You track me by scent."
Jack freezes completely.
Dennis has to fight not to smile. Got him.
"You think I didn't notice?" His voice softens.
"The way you'd turn around before you even saw me."
A beat.
"The way you'd stand too close."
Another.
"The way you always knew when I walked into a room."
Jack looks like someone just handed him evidence of a crime. Dennis's thumb brushes over his knuckles.
Gentle.
Steady.
"I let you."
Not because he pitied him. Not because he didn't know. Because he wanted him there. Jack swallows hard.
"Dennis-"
"I'm not done."
Immediately the Alpha falls silent. Dennis nearly laughs again. He shifts until their shoulders touch.
Warm.
Solid.
Real.
"I know what you're going to say."
Jack's expression tells him he's absolutely right.
"You're going to talk about your age."
The Alpha winces.
"Timing."
Another wince.
"How I have options."
That one hurts.
Dennis sees it.
Feels it.
And hates it.
"You're not wrong."
Jack goes still.
"But you're not right either."
The night seems to quiet around them. Or maybe Dennis just stops hearing it. Because this part matters.
"I didn't miss you, Jack."
His grip tightens. Just a little.
"I didn't get stuck with you."
The Alpha finally looks at him. Really looks at him.Dennis holds his gaze.
"I chose you."
The words settle heavily between them.
Real.
Certain.
True.
For a moment neither of them speaks. Dennis can practically see Jack trying to process it. Trying to fit the last year together with this new information. Trying to understand that none of this happened by accident.
Dennis smiles. Small. Crooked. Fond.
"So if you're worried about screwing this up, you're a little late."
Jack's breath catches. Dennis tilts his head. Eyes bright.Steady.
"Because I've been waiting for you to do something about it for months."
A pause.
"And honestly?"
His smile widens.
"I'm kind of done waiting."
Something changes in Jack.
Dennis feels it happen.
Like a wire finally snapping. Like tension finally breaking. The Alpha goes impossibly still. The kind of stillness that means a decision has been made. Dennis's pulse jumps.
‘There you are.’
A thrill runs through him.
Excitement.
Affection.
Relief.
All tangled together.
"So," he says softly.
Teasing now. Certain.
"What are you going to do about it, Alpha?"
For one suspended second, neither of them moves.
Then Jack's hand lifts. Slowly. Giving Dennis every opportunity to stop him. To pull away. To change his mind. His palm settles against the back of Dennis's neck.
Warm.
Steady.
Careful.
Dennis doesn't move. Doesn't pull away. Doesn't want to.
Dennis meets him halfway, eager and sure, mouth already parting like he’s been waiting for this exact moment for months. The first brush of lips is almost careful, testing, tasting, but Dennis makes a soft, impatient sound in the back of his throat and presses closer, tilting his head to deepen it instantly.
Jack groans, low and rough, and finally lets go.
The kiss turns hungry fast. Dennis kisses like he works.
Focused, relentless, no hesitation.
His mouth is hot, sweet from the fruity drink he’d been sipping earlier, and he licks into Jack’s mouth like he’s staking a claim, confident and unapologetic. His hands slide up Jack’s chest, fingers curling tight into the collar of his shirt to tug the Alpha even closer, like he’s still half-afraid Jack might try to talk himself out of this.
Jack’s hand finds the small of his back again, broad palm splaying wide over bare skin where the ridiculous daisy dukes ride low, pulling him flush against his body. Dennis melts into the hold, a shiver running down his spine at how perfectly they fit.
Jack tastes like bourbon and restraint finally snapping. He smells even better up close. Deep, smoky cedar and aged bourbon wrapping around Dennis like a warm blanket, grounding and a little sharp, cutting through the cool night air. Their scents crash together, honeyed tea and sun-warmed skin bright against Jack’s richer notes, and the combination makes Dennis dizzy with want.
He nips at Jack’s bottom lip, bold, then soothes it with his tongue. When Jack opens for him, Dennis doesn’t hesitate, licking deeper, claiming every inch he can reach. Jack’s fingers tighten in his curls, tugging just enough to tilt his head back, and Dennis lets him, arching as the Alpha trails open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jack mutters against his skin, voice gravel-rough. He presses his nose right against Dennis’s scent gland, inhaling deep, and Dennis feels the rumble of approval vibrate through both of them. “You smell so fucking good. Always have.”
Dennis laughs, breathy and warm, the sound vibrating against Jack’s lips. “Took you long enough to do something about it, old man.”
There’s no real bite in it, just affection and that steady confidence that’s been simmering under his skin for nearly a year.
Jack growls softly at the tease and bites gently at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, not a claiming bite, not yet, but enough pressure to make Dennis shiver and arch harder into him.
Dennis slides his hands into Jack’s hair, gripping tight as he pulls him back up for another kiss, messier this time, all teeth and tongue and shared breath.
They’re making out like teenagers on a public bench, Halloween night loud around them; bass thumping from the bar across the street, distant laughter, the occasional whoop from costumed revelers. But none of it matters.
The world narrows to the slide of Jack’s tongue against his, the way the Alpha’s body feels solid and warm against his own, the way Dennis keeps making these soft, needy sounds every time Jack’s hand strokes down his bare thigh or grips his waist harder.
Dennis breaks the kiss just enough to gasp against Jack’s mouth, forehead resting against his. His lips feel swollen, eyeliner probably smudged, but he doesn’t care. He feels wrecked in the best way. “Jack…”
“Yeah?” Jack’s voice is shot, barely more than a rasp. His thumb brushes over Dennis’s bottom lip, tracing the wetness there.
Dennis’s eyes are dark, pupils blown, but that bright confidence stays steady. He leans in again, nipping at Jack’s jaw before murmuring right against his ear, “If you keep kissing me like that, I’m not gonna want to go back inside and dance.”
Jack huffs a laugh that’s half groan and presses another slow, deep kiss to his mouth just because he can. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
He pulls Dennis back in, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other sliding up under the hem of his shirt to press warm against the dip of his spine. Dennis melts into it, confident and pliant all at once, kissing him back with that same bright, unrelenting warmth that’s been burning for months.
They break away and Dennis can’t help but to look into his eyes.
“You didn’t drink right?”
Jack shakes his head, cheeks flushed, eyes blown out.
“Good. Now drive us to our nest.” Dennis murmurs.
The car ride to Dennis’ apartment was silent.
Nothing but the low hum of the engine and the slow, deliberate glide of Jack’s hand across his bare thigh, thumb stroking just under the hem of the daisy dukes.
Dennis kept his hand over Jack’s, pressing it firmer against his skin every time the Alpha’s grip loosened, like he was afraid to take too much. Dennis liked that, liked the restraint, liked pushing against it.
By the time they reached his building, Dennis was already half-hard and buzzing with it. He led Jack up the stairs without a word, keys cool in his palm, pulse loud in his ears.
The second the apartment door clicked shut behind them, Dennis turned and pushed Jack against it, rising onto his toes to kiss him hard. Jack groaned into his mouth, hands immediately finding Dennis’ waist like they belonged there. Dennis tasted victory and bourbon on his tongue, felt the way Jack’s chest rumbled under his palms. He smiled against the kiss, nipping at Jack’s bottom lip.
“Been waiting long enough, old man,” Dennis murmured, voice low and teasing. He slid his hands under Jack’s henley, mapping warm skin and the solid muscle underneath. “You gonna let me have you now?”
Jack’s breath hitched. “Sweetheart…”
Dennis didn’t wait for more. He tugged Jack forward, walking them backward through the small living room toward his bedroom, his nest, shedding clothes as they went. His tank top hit the floor first, then Jack’s henley. Dennis’s fingers worked open Jack’s belt with practiced ease, confident and sure, while Jack’s hands roamed over the curve of his waist, the swell of his ass barely covered by those shorts.
His bedroom door swung open. Dennis’s nest took up most of the bed: a careful fortress of soft blankets, Trinity’s hoodie, and an undershirt still carrying faint traces of cedar and bourbon from a stolen shift. Pillows arranged just right. The whole space smelled like him; honeyed tea and sun-warmed skin, warm and bright and unmistakably home.
The whole space smelled like him, honeyed tea and sun-warmed skin, warm and bright and unmistakably home.
Jack stilled in the doorway, eyes dark and hungry as they landed on the nest.
“Can I… see your nest, Den?”
The quiet request hit Dennis square in the chest. No Alpha had ever asked like that.
So respectful. So wanting.
Dennis took his hand and pulled him in.
“It’s yours too now,” Dennis said, voice steady even as heat pooled low in his belly.
He stepped into the nest first, sinking down onto his knees and tugging Jack after him. “Come here, Alpha.”
They fell into the soft pile together.
The closer Jack gets, the more their scents begin to blur together.
Honey softening the sharp edge of bourbon.
Sunlight warming cedar.
Dennis watches Jack's expression shift as he notices it too, something instinctive settling under the Alpha's skin.
Dennis straddled Jack’s lap, grinding down slow and deliberate, feeling the thick, hard line of Jack’s cock pressing against him through his jeans. He rolled his hips in a smooth rhythm, hands braced on Jack’s broad shoulders, watching every flicker of restraint break across the older man’s face.
“Fuck, look at you,” Dennis breathed, leaning in to drag his mouth along Jack’s jaw, teeth grazing the stubble. “All mine tonight.”
“All yours forever.” Jack’s hands gripped his thighs, thumbs digging in hard enough to bruise in the best way. “Dennis- shit, you’re gonna kill me.”
“Good.” Dennis kissed him deep, tongue sliding against Jack’s, confident and claiming. He tasted like everything Dennis had wanted for months. He reached between them, palming Jack through his jeans before working the zipper down.
When he freed Jack’s cock, heavy and thick and already leaking, Dennis wrapped his fingers around it and stroked once, twice, twisting at the head just to hear Jack groan.
Dennis leaned back, eyes locked on Jack’s blown pupils. He shimmied out of his shorts and briefs in one smooth motion, then peeled away the last of Jack’s clothes until they were skin to skin in the center of the nest. He was slick already, wet and aching, the sweet scent of his arousal thick in the air.
Dennis was slick already, wet and ready, the scent of his arousal thick in the air; sweet honey mixing with Jack’s smoky cedar. He reached back, guiding the head of Jack’s cock against his entrance, teasing it there while he rocked his hips.
“Been thinking about this, I prepped for it at the bar, babe,” Dennis admitted, voice husky as he sank down just enough for the tip to breach him. He gasped at the stretch, eyes fluttering but never leaving Jack’s face. “Every heat. Every night shift. Every time you looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive.”
He took Jack in inch by inch, slow and deliberate, until he was fully seated, ass flush against Jack’s hips.
The fullness was perfect.
Almost too much, exactly right.
Dennis rolled his hips experimentally, clenching around him, and Jack’s head fell back with a wrecked sound.
“Move, sweetheart,” Jack rasped, hands sliding up Dennis’s sides, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples. “Please.”
Dennis smirked, that bright, mean little smile he knew drove Jack crazy. “Since you asked so nicely.”
He started riding him in earnest; confident, relentless, hips snapping down in a steady rhythm that had the nest creaking softly. Every thrust dragged Jack’s cock perfectly against that spot inside him, sending sparks up his spine.
Dennis braced one hand on Jack’s chest, the other tangling in those silver-streaked curls, tugging just hard enough to tilt Jack’s head back so he could mouth at his throat.
Jack met every roll of his hips with shallow thrusts upward, hands gripping Dennis’s ass, spreading him wider. Their scents tangled heavier, honey and sun wrapping around cedar and bourbon until the room smelled like them. Dennis’s head spun with it.
“Smell so fucking good,” Jack growled against his skin, nose pressed to Dennis’s scent gland. He licked over it, then sucked, and Dennis moaned loud, clenching hard around him.
“Yeah?” Dennis panted, grinding down harder, faster. “Then knot me, Alpha. Want to feel you lock inside me. Want you to fill me up until I can’t think about anything else.”
Jack flipped them suddenly but carefully, pressing Dennis into the soft blankets without pulling out. Dennis laughed, wrapping his legs high around Jack’s waist, heels digging into his back.
Jack fucked him deep and steady, one hand braced beside Dennis’s head, the other sliding between them to stroke Dennis’s cock in time with his thrusts.
Every snap of his hips pushed Dennis closer, the knot swelling at the base of Jack’s cock, catching deliciously on every pull.
“Close, Jack, please-”
“Come on, sweetheart,” Jack murmured, voice gravel-rough and wrecked. “Let me feel you. Feel that you’re mine, no one else’s.”
Dennis came first with a sharp cry, back arching, slick gushing around Jack’s cock as pleasure crashed through him in waves. His walls clenched rhythmically, milking Jack until the knot finally popped inside him; thick, perfect, locking them tight.
Jack followed with a deep groan, burying his face in Dennis’s neck as he spilled hot and endless, flooding him
.They stayed locked together, breathing hard. Dennis carded gentle fingers through Jack’s hair, pressing lazy kisses to his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Jack’s weight was perfect.
Solid, grounding, safe.
Dennis felt full, claimed, and so completely wanted.
“Been waiting for you my whole life,” Jack murmured against his skin, voice soft and fond in the afterglow.
Dennis smiled, warm and sated, tightening around the knot just to feel Jack twitch. “Took you long enough, old man. But you’re mine now.”
Jack huffed a quiet laugh and nuzzled deeper into his neck, scenting him slow and thorough. In the quiet of the nest, with their scents tangled and Jack’s knot still pulsing inside him, Dennis finally felt like he had everything he’d ever wanted.
He was in control.
And he was exactly where he belonged.
[Trini 💞💞 9:43 AM]
u now owe me a favor fuckleberry
[huckleberry finn ❤️🩹 11:22 AM]
worth it.