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There were a few rules that Dennis knew about western fashion etiquette.
One, and the one his grandfather had hammered home, was that you never set a ten-gallon hat (what he insisted on calling his cowboy hat, he had gotten told off for that as well) with the brim facing down.
He could recall doing as such when he was younger, at a shitty, small town diner with his family, moving his father’s hat from where it rested upside down on the plush vinyl booth next to him, to be brim down on the table in front of them. The air sucked out of the room faster even than when his brother came tumbling down the stairs swearing up a storm the week previously. His grandfather flicked his temple, not hard enough to sting, padded by his unruly blond curls that framed his face, but enough for the dull ache to snap his head to the side.
“You’re spilling all the luck out!” His grandfather had said as a means of explanation, reaching his calloused hands out in front of him to turn the hat back around, the dull clunk of the hardened leather punctuating Dennis’s own curt nod.
For people with such religious piety, they sure believed in superstition with a confusing gusto.
He did not make that particular mistake again.
Two, you never set a ten-gallon on a bed. It— again— was bad luck.
There were a myriad of other rules that he catalogued from his youth. Square toed boots were not for formal events. You never tip your hat to anybody but a lady. You always keep your pants over your boots unless you’re actually working (to save the cuffs of the few jeans you own.) You take your hat off inside nice establishments, when you meet someone for the first time, and during the national anthem. So on, and so forth. These parameters were usually pushed to the back of his mind, not necessary when all he wore anymore were scrubs and the occasional outfit scrounged from his sparse closet.
Well. This certainly was an occasion. And it was bringing a lot of those picky courtesies resurfacing.
Rules #1 and #2 dropped to his mind like a stone as Trinity walked into his room, tossing his own hat off of his desk chair, and onto his bed, brim down. He was still standing in front of the full length mirror propped against his wall, buttoning up his jeans. Dennis stifled a bodily wince at the sight.
The hat wasn’t anything special to look at in particular. A beige leather thing, with a cattleman crown and a low brim. But it was the first thing he had bought with his own money that really made him feel like a man. He remembered the stinging behind his eyes as he parted with his sweet, prize winning pig, Babe (unoriginal name, he was aware) at the fair that year. Part of what drew him to medicine instead of veterinary sciences in the first place. With humans, you could explain things. You could hold a hand and talk someone through a procedure, explain what was necessary for their health and go from there. It was an honor to get to hold someone’s vulnerability in his hands, and then return it with dignity intact. With animals— he kept flashing back to the way Babe turned back to look at him as he left her behind, her gravelly squeal fading into the background of the buzzing hubbub around him. There was no explanation to animals.
His prize winning money went towards this hat, the tan leather casting a shadow across his face that made him feel particularly masculine for the first time. The same hat that sat on the crown of his head as he sat in the passenger side of his brother's beat up pickup on the way to the airport out of Nebraska, trading a cigarette back and forth with him.
Dennis sighed, picking up the hat and setting it properly on his nightstand, shaking his head as if to shake the memory of porcine eyes searching for his face. He could hear Trinity chuckle from where she was currently lounging on his bedspread. She had her hair back in a low ponytail, a white tank top accessorized with a red flannel tied in the front to hug her waist, sleeves rolled up high on her forearms. The jean shorts she was wearing must have been recently bought, he hadn’t seen her wear them before, the thought warming his chest a little, that she went and bought clothes just for this occasion.
Right. The party.
The PTMC emergency department’s annual “we survived the fourth of July" barbeque (name in progress) was a tradition of sorts. When it started, Dennis had no idea, but as a first year resident, this was his first time in attendance. He knew Robby hosted every year, that people would come by to relax with one another, celebrate another year well done, another holiday survived.
This year, it also so happened to fall on his birthday.
The get-up was Trinity’s idea. A homage to Dennis and an attempt to, in Trinity’s words, “make him feel more at home.” She had invited everybody to dress in their very best Huckleberry costume. At the time, he had thought it was a fucked-up sort of sweet gesture. He never liked his birthday too much, a race against the clock and a realization of just how much time he had spent bent over textbooks and notes. To finally be out in the world, getting to celebrate with his co-workers at his job that was the culmination of 8 solid years of studying and scraping– he took it as a win.
Looking at his reflection in the mirror now, though, it seemed more like an insult. He hadn’t worn anything like this outfit since he’d last been seen at Amy’s. The jeans that hugged his hips were truly worn, denim fraying, one belt loop messily sewn back to the waistband. A grass stain painted the calves, creeping up to the worn down opal around his knees. They were cuffed along the bottom, showing the ankle height of his equally worn boots. He opted for a red, short sleeved button up, attempting to match with Trinity. though the shirt hung loose around his frame, the sleeves did hug his biceps nicely, which he did have to thank his roommate for pointing out.
Dennis cocked his head and turned away from his reflection to look at the woman now sat on the edge of his mattress.
“What’re you giggling about?” He mumbled, picking up his hat from where it previously rested and returning it to its rightful place on his head.
“Just can’t let go of your roots, can you, Huckleberry?” Trinity said, a teasing lilt to her voice as she rose to stand, coming to stand by his side, taking in the sight of both of them. “You look good. Hard to believe you dressed like this for– what, 19 years of your life?” Dennis snorted.
“I look ridiculous.” He mumbled, fingers itching to toy with the sleeves of his shirt, suddenly constricted by the uncomfortable pressure of them against his skin. “And I didn’t. Dress like this.” Dennis supplied, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Every day.”
Trinity just smacked his shoulder and smiled. She had a way of doing things that others found teasing, he found somewhat comforting as their friendship developed. He found more and more that she had become family to him. They teased and bickered, sure. But he always had someone to go back home to, someone who would let him in without a moment’s hesitation.
Trinity reached a hand up and snatched his cowboy hat from his head, placing it on her own and turning to look in the mirror. “I think I can pull this thing off better than you, though.”
A grin broke across Dennis’s face before he could help it.
There was rule number three.
Not a rule he had learned by a mistake of his own hand, but a conversation he could recall his brothers trading barbs to one another about. Don’t wear someone else’s hat unless you want people to— get the wrong kind of idea.
“You know they say that if you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy, right?” Dennis could barely get the words out through his own badly suppressed giggles, his eyebrows wiggling wildly.
Trinity pulled the hat off her head and dropped it to the floor like it had burned her scalp. The screwed-up face she was pulling only served to further Dennis’s laughter.
“Gross. What kind of shit are people getting up to in buttfuck Nebraska anyways.” She mumbled, bending towards the mirror to poke and prod at her hair, tightening her ponytail, pulling her car keys out of her own pocket and moving to the doorway of Dennis’s bedroom.
Dennis shrugged, flitting around his room to find his wallet, keys, and phone, anything to keep his jittery hands moving.
“Very little, actually.” he mumbled, retrieving his poor hat from the floor one last time, before following Trinity out of the apartment, and into her car.
–
Robby’s house was– not quite what Dennis was expecting. It was beautiful, of course. A towering brownstone with a fenced off sliver of a backyard, the smell of burning charcoal and various meats grilling already tingling at his nose. In his mind, Robby came home to a dim bachelor pad sort of place, somewhere he could collapse and then restart the day. It was a childish idea, assuming that his mentor wasn’t an entire person outside of the tight reigns he held on the ED.
But the outside of the building was decorated almost delicately. Wooden boxes hung on the outside of each window, adorned with what looked like varying colors of petunias. When Trinity knocked on the heavy door, it swung open almost immediately, met with the sight of Abbot, looking more than a little haggard, a beer in his hand. He still wore his scrub shirt, his pants swapped for a practical looking pair of jeans, he must have come right from his shift to be here, it was sweet, honestly.
“Ah, trouble’s here.” he tutted, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. Dennis and Trinity shared a nervous chuckle. He nodded his head backward, motioning farther into the depths of Robby’s apartment. “Everyone’s out back. Robby’s– somewhere. We'll find him eventually.” A helpless shrug of his shoulders before he stepped backward, motioning for the two of them to follow. Trinity was the first to move, Dennis stood slightly paralyzed, the idea of actually venturing into his attending’s apartment rendering him immobile. But he followed, hot on Trinity’s heels.
Robby’s apartment was cute. Far from the minimalistic, stone grey cave he had conjured in his head when he thought about the man. (Maybe he took bear a little too seriously.) Little keepsakes stuffed on every shelf, medical journals and a surprising array of mystery novels stacked haphazardly on bookcases. Several walls were adorned with framed photographs of different snapshots of his life. As they traversed to the back door, he passed a photo of Robby and Abbot with their arms around each other’s shoulders, looking shockingly young. He tried his best to ignore the way his mouth went dry.
Trinity swung the back door open, and Dennis suddenly felt shockingly over dressed, embarrassment making itself known as a sudden tightness in his gut. There were a few scattered groups of people, but few had anything on besides the usual casual wear, or- in the case of anybody coming from night shift- still in scrubs. Dennis felt his throat tighten.
Some people had a couple accessories that made his stomach unclench incrementally, but nobody was as dressed up as him and Trinity. Mel had a straw hat that was frankly cartoonishly large for her frame. Frank had a bandana tied around his wrist in a weak attempt at fitting the bill. There were a couple other people in button downs or the occasional jean— but Dennis promptly took his hat off, holding it and worrying the brim between anxious fingers. Trinity led them over to a small picnic bench, pressed between shrubs in Robby’s backyard.
Speaking of Robby— the man was nowhere to be seen. It was a quiet blessing at the moment, Dennis already battling a wave of embarrassment at looking as— well— huckleberry as he did. The grill propped in the epicenter of the get-together was unmanned.
Dennis sighed, propping his head in his hands, before he was handed a beer by Trinity. Where exactly she had gotten the cans from was quite the mystery- but he sure as hell wouldn’t be the one to complain. His eyes searched over the grassy yard, looking for— well he wasn’t sure. His eyes caught at the same time as Trinity’s on Garcia.
Trinity smiled next to him, patting him on the shoulder as a parting gift, before rising to her feet and beelining towards Yolanda, who was wearing a little thin bolo tie through the collar of her button up. Well, that was nice at least.
Dennis sighed deeply, cracking open the beer and setting the hat in his hands on the bench next to him (brim up- of course). And settled in for a lot of people watching.
It was going to be a long night.
–
Dennis’s gaze was fixed on Trinity, watching her fumble around a conversation with Garcia, the can in her hands slipping down with the condensation and her own nervousness. She had her hip popped to the side, head inching dangerously towards Garcia’s personal space. A small smile found his way onto his face, reaching back towards the table to grab his drink, but before his hand could make contact with the aluminum, his whole world tilted on its axis.
The porch door shut behind Robby with a tinny thunk, and turned, the entirety of his face being lit up with the late afternoon July sun. Dennis’s breath hitched in his throat.
Robby was— very dressed up for the occasion. Boot-cut jeans hugged his waist, slung low across the slight protrusion of his belly, but wrapped tightly around meaty thighs and the swell of his ass. The dark blue plaid shirt he wore could barely be called buttoned, three buttons tucked into his jeans, while the rest stayed open, showing the wide expanse of his collarbones and the valley between his pecs. Dark, coarse hair peppered his skin, all the way down the exposed v that the shirt so thankfully showed. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the rest of it plastered to his biceps so tightly he could nearly see the veins on them. He was wearing a hat very similar to Dennis’s own, catching the light and casting a slanted shadow over his grinning face.
He shoved down the urge to shiver when Robby made eye contact with him and gave him a little wave.
Dennis could feel his own face become blisteringly hot, he tore his eyes from the man in front of him and decided to fix his gaze on the ground. There was a line of ants wandering toward an abandoned piece of watermelon at his feet and he needed it to be the most interesting thing in the world to stave off the heat that shot to his core. God, he’d be replaying this moment for months, wouldn’t he, imaging burying his face in his attending’s chest, gripping those biceps, bracketing his thighs with his own. It wouldn’t be the first time he had imagined Robby in— less than savory situations. It wasn’t his fault that Robby always hovered around him. It wasn’t his fault Robby was always touching him. It may have been his fault that he couldn’t ever quite seem to shake the idea of Robby taking those hands and exploring the rest of his body. So this— this mental picture of Robby unguarded and sweaty and dressed like a present wrapped specifically for him—
Dennis was screwed.
Right as he tried to collect himself, reaching out to take a sip of his beer, a strong hand collided with his shoulder, and pine cologne and charcoal hit his nose.
Fuck. He was so very screwed.
Dennis somehow found the grace to bring the can up to his lips, taking a big sip to occupy his mouth as Robby began speaking.
“Happy birthday kid! Glad you could make it.” He paused to chuckle a little, the deep timber of it practically rattling Dennis’s bones where his thumb grazed the nape of his neck. “Glad some of us dressed up. I was starting to feel a little ridiculous. Hey, you missing something?”
As Dennis tried to work the liquid rapidly going flat in his mouth down his constricting throat, something was dropped on his head. There was a sharp smell of leather and his forehead warmed from the sweatband of a recently-worn hat. He risked a glance down at the bench next to him, his own hat still resting peacefully beside him. Which meant-
Oh.
In either the worst luck of his life or an evil trick of an unjust god, he tore his eyes away from the ground right as Trinity finally moved her attention away from Garcia long enough to meet his eyes. His pulse was hammering in his chest.
Her face broke out in a sudden grin, right as Dennis choked, coughing and stuttering, somehow drowning on dry land in the most pathetic way possible. His face was bright red, and the hand Robby had perched on his shoulder came to pat him firmly on his back, between his shoulder blades.
“Woah— don’t go dying on me there.” Robby mumbled, a tense chuckle punctuating his words. Dennis scrambled to speak, to create any combination of words that would save him from the shitstorm brewing right in front of his eyes.
“I’m—“ he took in a wheezy breath, throat gradually clearing of the offending hoppy suds now sprayed out on the table in front of him. “I’m okay— I’m okay Robby. Sorry I didn’t mean to- I mean— it’s not like I’m—“
“Nice hat, Huckleberry.” Fuck, Trinity. The comfort of being saved of an explanation was quickly replaced with a white hot embarrassment at the reminder of the teasing grin that was still plastered on his roommate's face. His teary eyes met hers as she leaned in close to his ear, picking up Dennis’s hat in one smooth motion and placing it on her own head. “Didn’t know you were in the business of saving horses.”
If Dennis’s face could get any hotter, he was convinced his flesh would melt off his bones. Trinity shot him a wink and a nod, turning and walking back towards Garcia, and dammit if she wasn’t right about pulling that hat off. He pulled the few remaining scraps of his dignity together, and turned to finally meet Robby’s eyes, still stood behind him— and God was that a bad idea.
There was a genuine concern in his handsome face, a little notch in between his eyebrows and his face was flushed from the summer heat. His hair was free now, tousled and a little bit windswept already. Dennis found himself tracking a bead of sweat running down his forehead and wished briefly he could rise to his feet and follow its track with his tongue. Especially as it ran to Robby’s lips, collecting in the barely visible cupid's bow beneath his mustache. He felt goosebumps prickle against his exposed skin. The thought made Dennis dizzy and it took a considerable struggle to meet his eyes and give him a thumbs up, throat still constricted.
“And.. what exactly was that about?” Robby asked, a breathless little chuckle as he tracked Trinity’s walk away from them.
“I- uhm.” Dennis pursed his lips, shaking his head. “You know her. There’s uh. No explaining her sometimes.” God what kind of explanation was that? More of a lack of one than anything. His mouth was full of cotton, completely useless around the monolith that was his boss with his shirt unbuttoned, apparently.
“I mean. I could take it b—“ Robby began, immediately cut off by words that forced their way out of Dennis’s mouth with all the grace of a battering ram.
“No really it’s fine-“ a hand came to rest on his new accessory, holding it down with a fervor that surprised even himself. Dennis blinked, swallowing hard as he forced himself, once again to meet Robby’s gaze. Whatever dignity he had left had just floated away on the words ripped from his mouth.
Robby’s eyes were searching, quirking up an eyebrow before shaking his head, and placing one more hard smack on Dennis’s shoulder before turning and taking his rightful place back next to the grill. Dennis finally took a real deep breath, his hands falling into his lap as he let himself slump a little. How was he supposed to survive when that absolute Adonis was sweating over a hot grill, planes of beautiful pale skin practically a billboard in the front of his mind.
Robby didn’t know what he did. There was probably nobody else besides himself (and unfortunately Trinity) who knew of the antiquated assumptions that came with this. He should have brushed it off, laughed and not let it have such an effect on him but– the idea of being visually Robby’s in any way– even one that only himself took any comfort in, was incredibly enticing. Especially when he looked like that. He’d get over himself eventually and return his hat to him, once the jump in his pulse stopped pounding so hard, when his brother's voice stopped echoing in his head. Yeah. He’d get over it. Right.
—
Dennis did not, in fact, get over it.
He couldn’t bring himself to part with the damn hat, ignoring the teasing glances from Trinity as she got progressively more tipsy. He abandoned the idea of joining her in inebriation each time he caught a sight of Robby. If he was this worked up stone cold sober, adding alcohol to the growing fire, the want to shuck Robby of his clothes and pin him to whatever surface was closest seemed like— in his professional opinion— a terrible fucking idea.
Conversation flowed easily nonetheless. It was easy to fall back in with the people he spoke to every day, in a much less professional situation, they all had an easy relationship. The kind that came from long hours and the inextricable trauma bond everyone at the hospital seemed to share. As the sun started to hang lower and lower in the sky, people started being picked off one by one. Dana, who he was sharing polite small talk with, was next to leave. When he took a look around, his stomach dropped low as he realized that him, Trinity, Yolanda and Abbot were the last ones standing. As nice as the night was, he was itching to make his escape before his big mouth got the best of him, or before he grossly overstayed his welcome. His ride, however, was sat in Yolanda’s lap, heavy hands landing on her shoulders. Instead of making an easy escape, he was saddled with the realization that he would instead be having a nice, long, self-reflective walk alone to the nearest bus stop. Maybe that was for the best.
Dennis was pulled from his self-depreciation as Trinity sat down hard next to him on the bench. She leaned her head on his shoulder, already laughing before the words had even formed in her mouth.
“Soo–” She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “I think I may be going home with Yolo. You gonna be okay to find a way home?”
Dennis sighed fondly, smiling despite himself, leaning his head on top of Trinity’s.
“You know, I kind of figured after your second drink? I won’t stop you from having a good time. I’m sure there’s a bus stop around here.” Dennis watched in his peripherals as Abbot gave Robby a final wave before heading back inside to leave, and Robby’s attention fell solely on him. His pulse jumped, swallowing hard around the rapidly forming lump in his throat. He trained his eyes back to Trinity, sitting up slightly.
“You promise you’ll be okay? I can ask her if you can hitch a ride with us?”
“Nah Trin. I refuse to be a wet blanket. I’ll find something, the bus runs all night, you know.” Dennis shrugged and Trinity straightened herself up, her eyes glinting as her gaze flicked between Dennis and Robby who– oh fuck– was walking over to them.
“Maybe you’ll get lucky, cowboy.” She whispered, a little slurred. He scoffed, uncomfortable heat flashing through his body at her insinuation. Before he could answer, however, a frustratingly familiar voice broke through the static in his mind.
“You need a ride, Dennis?”
Trinity erupted into giggles before Dennis could even think of a response. Of course Robby had no idea of the innuendo, and Dennis would give his fair share of self-flaggelation over the way his mind dropped at a frightening speed into the gutter. (And his overwhelming urge to yell please at the top of his lungs) But hearing his name, his actual name on the other’s lips, his brain was stalling. Dennis gave her a half-hearted little shove. Trinity leaned in close to him, breath smelling of whatever fruity drink she last had, to whisper to him.
“Giddyup.” Trinity mumbled, before rising to her feet and shooting him a grin as she traipsed back to Yolanda. Dennis flushed a dark crimson, giving her his best death glare. His mind stalled for a minute, before belatedly realizing that Robby was still waiting on an answer from him.
“Oh– no, it’s okay. Santos was just leaving. I’ll find my own way home.” His voice sounded strained, even to himself. He wouldn’t take advantage of Robby’s kindness. He couldn’t stand a few hours in an open space nowhere near him. He wasn’t sure if he could handle a 20 minute ride in a small enclosed car without starting to hump the seats like some sort of rabid animal in heat. Robby cocked an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms. The position made the muscles in his forearms bulge in a frankly obscene way. He took to trying to mentally recite the names of each metatarsal in the hand to take his mind off of taking a bite of Robby’s arms.
“Whitaker. Really, I don’t mind.” He shook his head, rising to his feet to be face to face with Robby, and that was– yet again– a terrible idea. His attention snapped to the door, the tinny thump ringing in his ears. His stomach twisted as he realized, devastatingly, that they were alone.
“I–” he paused, taking in a steadying breath. “I don’t want to make you do that, Dr. Robby.”
“You’re not making me do anything? Kid, really. I don’t mind.” Robby stepped forward and set a hand on his shoulder, his eyes searing hot on Dennis’s face. Dennis bit the inside of his cheek to stifle the actual whimper that threatened to escape. He had never been this completely gone before. There had to be something wrong with him.
“At least let me help you clean up.” Bargaining, he could do that. He needed to stretch this out. Both out of genuine respect for the older man, but also- selfishly- to give himself a second to quell the heat thrumming in his body. Robby sighed, taking a look around at the discarded plates and cans that now littered his backyard.
“Alright. Wait here.” Robby pivoted on his heel and walked swiftly back inside. Dennis buried his face into his hands immediately, letting out a long-suffering sigh. More time, alone, with Robby. This could only go terribly. If Robby could somehow read minds, could translate the expressions on his face, he’d see the depravity Dennis held. If he woke up tomorrow kicked out of his residency program for sexual harassment and insubordination, it could only be expected.
A pointed throat clearing had him pulling his hands away from his face. Robby held two trash bags in his hands, a wavering smile on his face. Dennis only smiled, taking it from him immediately. Their hands brushed lightly as he grasped the plastic, Dennis’s skin immediately prickling with goosebumps. His chest was tight, muscles held taught with the strain of holding himself upright and acceptable for society, for Robby. The creeping guilt that had been building all night clawed at his throat.
Just a little longer. He’d be fine.
Dennis buzzed around the backyard, picking up long abandoned plates and cans, trying his best to give Robby a wide berth to avoid the electricity that tingled in his veins when he strayed too close to his orbit.
Still, Robby tried his best to engage in polite conversation. Dennis found his responses clipped, terse. Robby didn’t pay any mind, asking how intern year was treating him (Good, it’s hard.) How his Step 3 went- (Good. It’s out of my hands now.) How living with Trinity had been. (Great, actually. She’s basically my sister now.) If Trinity and Garcia were, as he put it, “an item.” (It’s complicated. And loud.) And somehow, Dennis found the tightness in his ribs ebb away into something close to familiarity, somehow able to shake the bone-deep tension that had plagued him since he began mentally cataloging which areas of Robby’s chest had thicker swaths of hair as compared to the others.
The backyard looked picked clean after a few minutes, tense replies falling way to genuine conversation. As violently attracted he was to Robby, he still liked his presence in a gentler way. Maybe it was the need for approval from an authority figure, or just the need to be liked by someone he wanted so deeply. Bundling up the trash bag and depositing it in the outside bin was his next move, before following behind Robby to pick up the few dishes left around.
“Thanks, Dennis. You really didn’t have to.” Robby said gently, stacking porcelain on his forearms as Dennis mirrored the same move behind him, thankful still that he didn’t have to look into his eyes as he spoke. It was easier to ignore the gnawing in his stomach that way.
“No really, it’s the least I could do. I’m sorry Trin and I live so far out of the way. I really appreciate it.” Dennis could only scrounge up a couple serving dishes before turning back to Robby.
“Noo- It’s no big deal at all. Anything for you, kid.” Robby had that same divot in between his eyebrows again, and the words and his expression hit Dennis like a semi-truck. But Robby— Robby was flushing. A beautiful rose tone that showed a little sliver above his facial hair. He trained his eyes to the grass again, praying that his expression was properly schooled to not expose the burning his genuine care lit in him.
Robby tilted his head back toward his building, the plates balanced carefully in his arms gently clattering as he started toward his back door. Dennis pulled in another struggling breath before following after him. He stepped back into the connecting kitchen, getting a better observation of the seemingly underused corner of Robby’s residence. There was a kitschy little sign propped above his sink window that read “many have dined here, few have died” in a calligraphy, Pinterest-esque font. It brought a small smile to Dennis’s face, and Robby noticed his gaze straying from where it had steadfastly been on the ground in front of him, of course he did.
“Jack- er- Abbot got it for me.” Robby said, setting the dishes down next to the sink. Dennis followed suit, their shoulders brushing as Robby made no move to back away when Dennis leaned in. Dennis smiled, tight-lipped, attempting to shove down the squirming heat it sparked in his stomach.
“That’s sweet. Uhm- I’ll wash, if you dry?” He offered, voice sounding distant. Robby smiled, nodding and leaning back against the counter next to the sink, a towel in his hands.
“Thank you again, Dennis.” Robby said, and again, Dennis tore his gaze away from him immediately. Running a sink of soapy water was easy— at least until Robby stepped closer to him, laying his broad shoulders on Dennis’s own, reaching over him to work the sink like he was under the assumption that Dennis had gone 27 years of his life and never seen a faucet. Still, though, underneath the smarting kind of irritability, there was the warm press of Robby behind him— and he bit his tongue, hard. His inward breath only served to push him farther back into Robby’s hold, his chest, his ribs expanding made each millimeter closer burn, every cell alight— Dennis’s mind was short circuiting.
God he really needed to keep it together.
“So— the sign- Abbot thought you needed a warning?” Redirection was all he was good at when his mind was slowly turning to goo.
“No.” Robby chuckled, finally stepping away and returning to his place at the counter, Dennis could take a full breath again. “He said he needed to make it look like— and I quote— I entertain more. Whatever that means.” Robby shrugged, turning the tea towel around in his large palms. Dennis’s eyes caught just a millisecond too long at the way it made his forearms bulge.
“Entertain is a word for it.” Dennis said with a smile, adding probably too much dish soap to keep his body turned from Robby’s hulking figure.
“Lonely old man is another.”
Dennis scoffed, perhaps a bit too loud.
“You just had our entire ED in your backyard Robby. And you’re not that— I mean not— you’re not old.” Dennis plunged his hands into the water, dragging the plates down and praying that Robby didn’t notice the stammering.
Prayers unanswered, Robby bursted into a beautiful little bright laugh. Dennis offered up a plate to him, the water dripping slowly on the linoleum seemed too loud, the room too small. He took it and his fingers brushed Dennis’s own. He bit down harder on his tongue.
“It’s a nice thought, Dennis. But really. This is the one time a year anyone steps foot in this place.” Robby’s voice was quiet, appeasing. Dennis frowned.
He knew that wasn’t necessarily true. He knew the tales of Robby’s sexual misadventures, his “itch.” He had seen the rotating cast of women (and a few men) who caught his eye a little too long, the tension jacking through the roof when he and whomever the victim of the last few weeks entered a room together. Even besides that, he knew him, Jack and Dana were tight. He severely doubted that his place was as derelict as he made it seem. Why would he be so adamant about that? Still, Robby took his silence as offense rather than quiet reflection.
“Well— I’m sure you and Trinity entertain plenty. I remember my residency. I don’t know where I found the time but- I always did.” Robby said, taking the next plate from Dennis, the two of them falling into a nice rhythm.
“Oh god no.” Dennis said, a little too harsh, a little too forceful. “Seriously. I think the only person who’s seen the inside of our apartment is Yolanda. And I don’t think she was looking at much.” Dennis took a deep breath, little floating bits of apprehension bleeding away more and more. Robby cocked his head, looking strikingly like a kicked puppy.
“I find that hard to believe. You’re a young, good looking guy, Dennis. No way Trinity’s the only one having people over.”
And holy shit. It took every muscle in his legs working overtime to not react by falling to the ground and concussing himself on the sink on his way down. If he could have recorded Robby calling him good looking it would be played on loop in his ears for the rest of his life, and he would die a deliriously happy man. His face burned again, and he wiped his forehead with the back of a wet hand, hoping the rapidly cooling water would take away the heat nestled there.
“No. Not a lot of people looking for— someone like me.” For many reasons – gay, trans, zero free time, awkward, stammering, overly protective best friend / roommate, hopelessly in love with his attending physician, the list goes on. Robby, frustratingly, just shook his head again.
“I’m sure there are plenty of people looking for someone just like you, Dennis.” Robby’s tone was sickly sweet, coating Dennis’s chest instantly, and Jesus- he might actually keel over. Dennis’s hands were searching through the soapy water, grasping for something else to keep his hands busy, but he came up short. His pruny hands reached to drain the sink, staring at the linoleum beneath his feet.
The silence between them stretched and stretched, only sound being the quiet sucking of water into the drain, followed by the pitter patter of droplets falling from his fingertips onto the metal.
That was flirting, right? Dennis may have been young but he wasn’t inexperienced, wasn’t stupid. Just terrifyingly down bad for this hulking, beautiful man stood approximately one foot to the right of him. Dennis could feel the rusty gears of attraction start turning, if he thought too hard about Robby he was sure steam would come flying out of his ears. Dennis heaved a breath in, eyes locking to Robby’s right as he opened his mouth to speak.
“I’m so sorry if that was inappropriate. I wasn’t- uhm. Wasn’t trying to make you feel—“
Dennis’s brain tuned out the rest of the sentence, words forming into static as he stared and stared at the blush creeping up Robby’s cheeks. He was stammering and blushing and practically a mirror picture of Dennis all night, soft and vulnerable and mouth-wateringly attractive in his own kitchen and-
Oh, fuck it.
Dennis practically lunged up to meet him, lips crashing together in a moment much more aggressive than Dennis would have liked, but the choked down little whine that sprang up from Robby’s throat was more than enough to wipe the thought from his mind. His soaked hands met Robby’s cheeks, leaving wet fingerprints along the crest of his cheekbones. Robby’s hands, which were hovering, shocked, a respectful distance away from Dennis’s body, came down to meet at his hips, kneading insistently at his flesh, and Dennis could only shiver and groan further into the kiss. The confidence to make the move was heady, but having it returned? Dennis had the fleeting thought that he really had collapsed and was rewarded with his deepest fantasy— at least until Robby flipped them around, pressing his back into the counter behind them. Dennis hiked up a leg, calf meeting Robby’s as he hooked his leg with his own, still never disconnecting the kiss. Robby’s facial hair tickled at his shaved cheeks, and he brought up a hand to run his fingers through Dennis’s hair, knocking his hat off in the process.
The kiss broke, both of their attentions turned to the counter, where the heavy clunk of leather sounded out.
Dennis couldn’t help it, his stomach twisting pleasantly as his shoulders started shaking, a slightly manic laugh erupting from his chest. Robby looked at him, concerned, but his mouth was worked into a smile nonetheless, his arms staying wrapped around Dennis’s waist.
No matter how much he tried to shove the laughter back down, he couldn’t stop the hitching giggles still flowing from his mouth. He turned, burying his face into the alluring sliver of Robby’s bare chest, his eyes closing gently. The earthy smell of his cologne and his sweat grounded him, chuckles dying off softly. Once he had pulled in a shaking breath, Robby spoke.
“And. What exactly was that for?”
Dennis shook his head, throwing his head back, already missing the warmth and comfort of Robby’s bare skin.
“You know— they say if you wear the hat, you ride the cowboy, right?”
Robby flushed the most beautiful color Dennis had ever seen, from the tips of his ears, down his cheeks and the column of his throat, to his sternum. Dennis leaned in, following the line of pink skin, kisses trailed across a broad chest, up to his shoulders. The skin rumbled beneath his lips when Robby found it within himself to speak again.
“And you- you kept it on all night.” Dennis nodded, Robby sighed and it sounded suspiciously like a whimper. “Is that what Santos was laughing about?” Dennis sunk his teeth into Robby’s shoulder to muffle a laugh, a mumbled mm-hmm against Robby’s flesh.
“Would you want that?” Dennis mumbled, lips still grazing the handsome column of his neck. Dennis flicked his face up, Robby’s eyes looked glazed over, slightly distant. He could feel Robby’s focus slipping away from his hands into the depths of his arousal, grains of sand slipping from his fingers. That just wouldn’t do. Stretching up on the top of his toes, he leaned in close to Robby’s ear, a little nip on his earlobe. “Do you want me to ride you, Dr. Robby?” The groan his words pulled from Robby nearly made his own eyes roll back. He must have died. He must have died and been rewarded for all of his years in Sunday school and in dusty pews— with his wettest of wet dreams, with Robby soft and pliant in his grip.
Robby leaned in and captured his mouth again, more insistent this time. His hands pulled up to Dennis’s buttons, shaking and warm as his calloused fingers started to unbutton his shirt. Dennis chuckled, leaning his head on Robby’s shoulder, his own hands starting to unbuckle Robby’s jeans, hooking his index finger underneath both his pants and his underwear the second the clothing was loose enough to do so. Robby, honest to god, shuddered, and Dennis had to struggle back a grin, settling for pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, praying it was as suggestive as it felt.
If Robby’s face was anything to go by, it was. The brown from his iris barely visible beneath his blown pupils, as Dennis’s (completely unbuttoned, when did that happen?) shirt was pushed from his shoulders, bunching up on the counter behind him. He barely had time to process he was fucking half naked, when he saw Robby’s eyes catch hard on his chest, the reflective scars tucked under his pectorals. Shit.
He had no reservations that Robby was a bigot in any way, but he’d seen men get— strange about his situation, and a little bubble of apprehension rested right under his Adam’s apple, waiting in tight silence for Robby to say anything.
“You’re—“
Dennis cut him off with a sigh, already turning to collect his shirt. He’d seen this scene play out before, many times, many hookups. Men don’t like it when they think they’re getting one thing and receive another. He swallowed down the shame building in his throat. Why would he think Robby would be any different, just because he was so attracted to him? How could he be so naive? When his back was fully to Robby he let himself close his eyes, bundling up his shirt in his hands. God he was so fucking st—
The warm press of Robby’s chest against his bare back was a revelation. He arched his back slightly, turning his head over his shoulder. Robby looked starved. He pressed a burning kiss to his shoulder blade, teeth grazing the flesh.
“You don’t car-ah!—“ Dennis gasped as teeth sunk in, for just a moment, before pulling away again.
“Fuck no. I’m a little surprised you think I would.” Robby’s lips grazed the pale skin of his back.
“Lots of guys care– I’ve been turned down plenty- I just thought maybe–” Robby’s eye twitched at the mention of other men. A jealous streak? On their first night together? Oh, this was going to be fun. Dennis shifted, heat flaring between his thighs. Robby’s hand caressed his hip, sliding forward to unbutton his jeans, never stopping the warm, smooth contact with his skin for a second. Dennis’s hands loosened their grip on his own shirt before he tore it cleanly in two.
“Not me, baby.” Robby’s words were honey against his overheated skin. The pet name, the sincerity, the ghost of pressure exactly where he needed it. He needed to be bare immediately, needed Robby stripped and begging for his touch. Dennis’s hands shook as he pressed backward to slide his own hands beneath the counter he was currently pressed against, helping Robby in his mission. He pulled his own jeans down, bunching the underwear with them. He flipped himself in a surprising show of strength that had Robby’s eyes looking glazed over again. Dennis didn't let himself ruminate on the fact that he was suddenly strikingly bare in Robby’s kitchen, instead busying his hands attempting to get Robby on the same level.
Dennis pulled Robby’s shirt all the way open, leaving the fabric just barely hanging off of Robby’s shoulders, and unbuttoned his pants as fast as his own hands allowed, pulling them down to his ankles with a flourishing shove.
The absolute tent in Robby’s boxers made him pause, however. Maybe he was getting in a little over his head.
His jaw hung open for just a moment, mouth going dry as he slowly pushed the plaid fabric the rest of the way from his shoulders, meeting the heap of clothing scattered on the ground. His eyes never left the dark fabric of Robby’s briefs.
“Holy shit.” he said dumbly, tongue suddenly much heavier where it sat on his mouth, threatening to spill over his teeth at the very idea of Robby’s cock, straining, practically pleading. His hands, suddenly shaking, reached out to cup him over the fabric. Robby hissed, head falling back between his shoulder blades. Dennis gulped, his fingers hooking in the waistband of his fabric, shoving it down gracelessly to meet his jeans.
And than he was face to face with maybe the most beautiful dick he’d ever seen and fuck. He wouldn’t get over this. Might be ruined for all men for the rest of his life. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To be ruined for this man.
To ruin him in turn.
His teeth caught his bottom lip again, bringing a hand up to his mouth as he lolled his tongue out and licked his palm. Dennis reached out again, teasingly slowly as he gave one tentative stroke along Robby’s length. Robby’s voice immediately cracked on a sweet little moan.
The power he suddenly had over the man in his hands was heady. His pulse kicked hard against his ribcage, rubbing his own thighs together. He felt immediately how shamefully wet he was, but how could he not be? He grinned up at Robby from his vantage point, hiding his face in the crook of Robby’s neck, tongue teasing the rivet of sensitive skin there. He gave Robby’s oversensitive cock a few more languid strokes, before pulling his hand away and reaching up to cradle his jaw. Robby went with his touch so willingly, so pliantly, that Dennis got a little dizzy, slotting their lips together again. He flicked his tongue against his bottom lip in invitation and Robby took it willingly. The feeling of this man— the man he’d been lusting after in secret whispers and too-long glances groaning openly against his mouth— it was better than anything he’d ever tasted.
Robby’s hands were hot and insistent against his bare flesh, running against his ribcage and up each rising bump of his spine, then down again, settling on his ass. Dennis shuddered, fingers digging into the flesh of Robby’s cheeks. He took a shaky breath in through his nose, pulling away just a fraction to speak against Robby’s lips.
“We have to sit down somewhere- unfortunately I don’t think my knees can handle your kitchen floor-“ his words came out strained, panting openly, inches away from Robby’s still gaping mouth.
“Y-yes. Yeah. Is the couch oka—“ Dennis cut him off with another bruising kiss, nipping at his bottom lip.
“Fuck yes. Whatever’s closest.”
Robby’s arms wrapped tightly around Dennis’s waist, picking him up entirely too easy for his liking. (Or, maybe he enjoyed it too much for his liking.) Dennis’s legs wrapped around his thick torso, ankles meeting and hooking on one another on the small of Robby’s back. He could feel his arousal pressing against his stomach, his own wetness coating the skin around Robby’s middle. His rational brain, which had gone completely out the window at this point, knew he should feel ashamed, but with the delicious pressure of Robby’s hands on his hips, twitching cock against his bare stomach, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care in the slightest.
Robby stumbled backward from the kitchen, barely taking his eyes off of Dennis to find his way to the living room. He stopped moving frequently, leaning onto whatever wall was closest and peppering Dennis with kisses at any skin available to him. Dennis’s heart was racing, skin heating more and more every second he spent pressed against him, because holy shit he was actually about to fuck his boss.
When Robby finally made contact with the couch, Dennis made quick work of getting Robby back for every kiss stolen on their way over. His hips twitched at the warm solid contact finally presented to him, thighs bracketing Robby’s much larger pair. At the incremental movement, Robby’s hands came to grab at his waist again. Dennis paused, watching Robby’s face with rapt attention as he slowly started to roll his hips. Barely a shift from their previous position, but it brought his dick against Robby’s, a slow, slick slide against the base of his shaft. Robby’s eyebrows shot up, eyes flicking instantly to where they connected. His grip tightened, and Dennis huffed out a quiet groan at the added pressure, what little blood was left around his body went flooding south, he could swear he heard the distant roaring in his ears.
“Oh fuck- Dennis I- I didn’t bring a condom or anything-“ Robby mumbled, hands wandering from their rightful place on his hips down back to his ass, slowly creeping farther up his thighs. Dennis spread his legs as much as he could muster, given he was already straddling him. Dennis only smiled, dazed. He shook his head, mind filling with pleasant fog as he continued to rut up against Robby. Dennis leaned forward, leaving lingering kisses up along the ridge of his cheekbones.
“Got tested after the last time—I trust you— I’m clean, and I’m on birth control.” Dennis pulled back slightly, making eye contact as a silent check in. He lowered his voice, eyes half lidded as his hips kept their slow roll, his own electric skin sliding against Robby’s.“I don’t care as long as you don’t.”
This was a bad idea. He knew that. Rationally. However, his rational brain was— again— far far away from the syrupy goo currently sliding around his skull. The whispers of common sense told him to just get up, and fumble around with the abandoned clothes in the kitchen until one of them found a condom. But like this— touching and grinding and panting with Robby? The thought of dismounting him for any amount of time would make him wither. It had taken so much confidence to make it here, and to stop it- well he’d just be doing himself a disservice. Robby’s eyes widened, looking a little panicked as he cocked his head slightly. That goddamn kicked puppy look. Struck with a bolt of embarrassment and anxiety, Dennis tucked his head into Robby’s neck again, hips slowing but not stilling completely. Robby’s hand came up to pet the curls littering the back of his neck, and he bit his tongue to hold back another helpless whimper.
“You sure, Dennis?”
The words were barely out of Robby’s mouth before Dennis captured the hand still perched on his hip, and dragged it lower, along his ass and farther forward, leaving Robby’s hand hovering over the wet, wanting core of him. There was no real pressure just yet, nothing actually making contact with the most sensitive part of him, but the ghost of it had his breath hitching. Dennis nodded, leaning in to kiss Robby again.
He didn’t think he’d ever tire of it, now. Kissing him was a slow, hot, slide. Of smooth skin against rough facial hair, meticulously moisturized lips against Robby’s rough, slightly chapped pair. It was addicting, feeling his pulse, tasting him. What was more addicting, however, was the sharp feeling of Robby finally touching him where he needed it most, a large, slightly calloused finger dipping into his sensitive opening. The drag pulled a breathy groan from his chest, it should have been worse, but Dennis had been so keyed up all night, he barely needed the foreplay. Robby obviously shared the thought, slipping his finger out momentarily, before plunging back in, his middle finger pressed to the nail bed of his pointer finger. Dennis gasped a little, hands scrabbling at his bare chest. A grin broke out on Robby’s face, and Dennis’s breath picked up into a pant.
“Your hands are so fucking big-“ Dennis sounded strung out even to himself. Robby nodded, starting to move his hand a little faster, fingers hooking up slightly, going deeper than before. He let his fingers fall side by side, scissoring open just slightly, and the new, deeper stretch had Dennis closing his eyes on instinct. Robby leaned forward and kissed his eyelids, just the feather-light press of the outline of his lips, and Dennis’s heart swelled. It was much too gentle, too sweet for the position they found themself in. Dennis felt a little knot make itself known in his throat, attempting to breathe around it.
“Look at you- You’re so beautiful.” Robby’s voice was raspy, gentle.
Dennis’s eyes shot open. Robby’s face was enraptured, eyebrows knitted together. The knot in his larynx tightened further, a little punched out breath escaped his front teeth and tight jaw. He’d never heard anyone speak to him like that. Never had anyone sound genuinely enamored. And his face— it was too much.
“Don’t look at me like that—“ Dennis mumbled, leaning backward incrementally, attempting to rock himself further back into the building pleasure from Robby’s hand. Robby laughed, smile blinding. Dennis’s vision was blurred by the hormones corroding his brain, the details of Robby’s face liquidating around the edges.
“Like what, baby.” Robby sped up his ministrations, and Dennis’s jaw hung open, the air entering his lungs wasn’t enough. They weren’t quite expanding right, his ribs were alight, heart thumping against his ribcage. He tried to gulp through a couple breaths, still unsatisfied. The pleasure built at the base of his spine and started trickling upward, his stomach twisting pleasantly. The words on the tip of his tongue fluttered away with each breath.
“Like you- lo-“ he snapped his jaw shut, swallowing hard. “Fuck. You love this.” Robby’s response was to smile, and press their noses together once again, leaving enough room he could keep that apparent big mouth of his running. Dennis wasn’t usually a big fan of handing over control like this— liked to be in charge where he could— but something about Robby was making him rethink his whole outlook on sexual encounters.
“I do love this. You’re so handsome.” Robby’s face was teasing, and Dennis had to put an end to this slow teasing before he— A.) came all over him stupidly fast, or B.) started making confessions it was far too soon for. Dennis rocked forward once, hard, letting Robby’s fingers slip from his (now dripping) cunt. He tried to ignore the way his insides fluttered around nothing. He felt so empty, the emotional tightness of his throat radiating to his chest. But Robby’s hard cock was right there, pressed against him still, and it was easy to pull his focus from the chasm in his stomach, to more pressing matters. Dennis let out a shuddering sigh, still clenching around the aching emptiness. Robby looked a little shocked, mouth hanging open as he blissfully had nothing to say. Robby brought his hand down to his own cock, giving himself a loose stroke, and Dennis realized a little too late that he was slicking himself up with Dennis. Fuck.
Every new move was the new hottest thing he had gotten the privilege to behold.
He had to make a move before he started crying and/or came with only the memory of Robby inside him. He reached out, grasping Robby’s cock in his hand, and quickly stood back on his haunches to properly position himself. Robby’s beautiful flush was back, trailing down his chest and across his pecs, now that he could see it in all of its glory. A twisted little smile tugged at the edges of his mouth as he finally sat down, thighs already shaking with the effort of keeping himself hovering above his lap. Robby finally breaching him, stretching him wide– it was like coming home. Months of longing and lingering looks, washed away with the sweet stretch in his cunt.
Robby’s eyes were wide, Dennis holding every ounce of his attention. Dennis leaned in towards Robby’s face, lowering his hips inch by inch, until he was finally fully seated on the older man’s lap. He was so full it was hard to breathe. His thighs met Robby’s pelvis, and Robby leaned in to kiss him– but was stopped by Dennis’s firm hand on his chin.
They were inches away from each other, noses brushing. Robby was struggling slightly against Dennis’s hand, desperately trying to move closer, to close the distance, but Dennis’s hold was absolute, facial muscles twitching under the pads of his fingers. There was that power he loved, being able to hold Robby’s attention quite literally in the palm of his hand. Breathing the same warmed air while Robby’s cock was buried deep inside him– his head was spinning, sweat trailing down his face. Still holding him back, Dennis started rocking his hips experimentally, moving himself in tight little circles. Robby’s eyes closed, his mouth dropping open. He was real, twitching inside him with each miniscule movement, Dennis felt utterly and completely out of his mind.
“Look at you, Robby-” He cooed, voice syrupy sweet, trying his best to echo Robby’s earlier mutterings. “So beautiful.”
Robby’s punched-out whine in response only furthered the heat now consuming his body. He was completely speared open there, thighs held wide with the solid weight of Robby beneath him. His dick was rubbing against Robby’s hairy stomach with every shift of his weight, and his pulse was electric– he needed more.
Dennis shifted slightly, inching his feet forward to get a better foothold on the couch beneath him. His hands dropped, falling to the shoulders of the man beneath him to offer him some sort of leverage. He leaned forward, tugging Robby by the shoulder blades into a filthy kiss, all tongues and teeth, as he began pulling himself upward and dropping himself down.
The noises they made together as they started rocking against each other– slow at first, as Dennis got used to the slightly awkward restriction of his feet on the couch– were enough to send Dennis out of his body completely. He was moving on autopilot, thighs flexing with each upward drag, he was momentarily convinced his soul had left his body, swimming pleasantly in the exhilarating pleasure coursing through him. Dennis could feel the distant ache in his hip flexors, the rough pressure of Robby’s body hair against his over-sensitive dick, but it only served to take him higher and higher.
“Holy shit- Dennis-” Robby gulped, hands tightening around his waist. “You feel so good.”
Dennis smirked, clenching around the intrusion on his next bounce upward, and Robby’s eyes rolled back in his head, his groan shaking through his ribs where Dennis was pressed. His nails dug into the soft skin of his back as his hands started to shake. The saccharine warmth that coated his bones thrummed along with his racing heartbeat. He didn’t think he had ever felt so good. He wanted a release– yes. But he also wanted this feeling for as long as he possibly could. Wanted to drag this out until the ache in his body was undeniable and he was nothing but a shaking mess in Robby’s arms.
Robby’s hips adjusted minutely, before he was thrusting back up into Dennis each time he collided with his thighs. Dennis’s shocked yelp quickly bled into a drawn-out moan. He could feel just how wet he was with the new, deeper slide. It was audible, barely drowned out by their shared sounds of absolute bliss. That was the best word for it, Dennis decided. This was as close to heaven as he’d ever felt.
“You’re so perfect– this is perfect-” Dennis mumbled, his mouth running completely unfiltered, a few coherent words slipping through the ravine of gasps and desperate pleas pouring from his lips. He could feel Robby against his cervix now– the pressure so deep and full that it bordered on painful– but it didn’t cross the threshold.
“Dennis– I can’t– I’m so close-” Robby panted, the words outlined on Dennis’s chin, where his lips had landed. Dennis nodded, closing his eyes, letting the darkness behind his eyelids completely drown him in the overwhelming feeling.
“Th-ah- that’s okay baby–” his words were slurring, the heat he had felt coat his body started to pool low in his stomach as he concentrated more on it. A new surge of wetness coated Robby’s thighs with each passing second and it was just so good.
Robby’s fingers dug into his waist, and Dennis let himself have a selfish little glimmer of hope that there would be bruises littering his midsection tomorrow; a souvenir of the day, evidence that this had really happened. His thrusts stuttered slightly, and it only served to press Dennis’s dick harder against Robby’s plush middle, and his muscles tightened, feeling higher and higher, his thighs burning with each movement he made, but he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Each pass upward he clenched down, trying to pull Robby’s orgasm from him. He was so full, so distant from his body, pulled into the swirling depths of the hot press of their bodies together—
His orgasm snuck up on him faster than it ever had. The force of it had his knees locking up, digging hard into Robby’s thighs. His head threw back, hands falling to dig his nails into Robby’s clavicle. There were sparks exploding behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open uselessly, litanies of yes and oh fuck and Robby, falling unbidden from his mouth. Robby’s hands tightened further around his hips, pulling him down further into his lap.
“Dennis I’m—“ he didn’t let Robby finish the sentence, flopping his pliant body forward to kiss him again. It was open, sloppy, more their open mouths pressing against each other than a true kiss. He gave a few, half-aborted thrusts, before he pushed Dennis completely flush to his thighs. A flash of heat ran through Dennis as he pulsed and finished inside of him. It should have been disgusting, should have been thinking about the consequences of letting him come like this but— it nearly had him rolling his hips and attempting to coax Robby into a too-soon round 2.
When his eyes finally fluttered open, vision still hazy at the edges, Robby was staring him down. He looked— completely ruined. His hair was stuck in spiky clumps, the back pressed flush with his head from the backrest of the couch. His lips were slick with spit, red and slightly plump from their kisses. There were tears gathered along his waterline, his pupils still blown, eating at the beautiful chestnut underneath. It hit Dennis like a shock, how affected he was. He was sure he was a mirrored picture, and could feel the wet tracks along his skin of tears and sweat. He never wanted to leave this moment, the hazy, post-coital bliss that enveloped them both, tacky with sweat and probably stuck to the leather of Robby’s couch.
“That was—“ Dennis began, lips feeling heavy and useless, much like the rest of his body. Robby nodded, shifting with the overstimulation of his rapidly softening member still inside him.
“Oh shit- I’m sorry-“ Dennis mumbled, shifting up in his shaky knees to let Robby slip out of him. He was followed by a thin stream of the other man’s release, immediately trickling down his thighs. It should have been— he wasn’t sure. Should have been revolting, the slick slide of his spend leaking from him. But god it was the furthest from it. He shuddered, the feeling reigniting the squirming heat in his gut. He tried his best to ignore it. He knew they physically couldn’t go further, Robby looked absolutely spent, and besides, he hadn’t been with anyone who wanted to keep going after they had already finished.
Apparently, Robby was not like everybody else.
Somehow, he saw through his lax body and half-lidded eyes, and saw that glimmer behind them. It sucked his breath from his chest, a mischievous little grin breaking across his face. Dennis’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh, I see. I’m not done with you.”
In one fell swoop, he was rearranged on the couch, still hovering on his knees, with Robby on his back, his head in between milky thighs, completely flat on the couch. Dennis gaped, his brain struggling to catch up as he stared down at him. He felt like he was lagging, his breath catching in his throat.
“Robby wh- you don’t need to- it’s okay-“
Robby shook his head, his facial hair scratching at the sensitive skin of Dennis’s inner thighs.
“Sit on my face.”
Dennis actually, honest to god, gasped.
“I’m gonna break your nose or- or- something, what are you talking about?”
“I meant it. I’m not glass, Dennis, I’m not gonna break.” His face was inches away from his cunt, arms teasingly coming up to hug around his hips. Robby gave him a playful little tug downwards, towards his waiting mouth. A tight knot of apprehension had Dennis holding himself up still, not giving in just yet.
“At least let me clean up, I’m still covered in your cum, fucks sake-“
“Makes it better, c’mon Denny.”
Dennis’s head spun at a velocity so sheer, it took him grabbing the backrest of the couch to keep from keeling over. The pet name, the depravity. Nobody had ever wanted him that bad, enough to beg, to bargain with him. He shivered, starting to shift and attempt to talk his thighs and hips into assuming the same position as earlier, when he felt something wet slide out of his cunt, and heard Robby gasp below him.
The sight he was graced with— well— he was very lucky his phone was abandoned in the kitchen, or he would have had several very distasteful paintings made.
A drop of Robby’s spend had slipped out of him, and landed right on his plush bottom lip, white and pearlescent. They stared at each other for a few beats too long. Dennis blinked, trying to will his brain into having a single coherent thought that wasn’t just fucking into Robby’s mouth until they both passed out from lack of oxygen. Robby blinked back at him, the silence a little too lengthy.
Until he poked his tongue out and licked the offending liquid from his lip, tongue glistening with his saliva, and now a mixture of both of them.
Well, shit.
Dennis groaned, and let his burning thighs finally drop him onto Robby’s face. The warm embrace of his mouth was addicting. The rough friction of his tongue on his overstimulated dick was immediate, and Dennis’s hands scrambled around frantically, his left hand gripping the top of the couch while his right came to a harsh grip in Robby’s hair. Robby responded with a tight moan, the vibrations traveling up Dennis’s body immediately. White-hot pleasure shot up his spine. Somehow, the oversensitivity of everything was teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure.
It wasn’t something Dennis necessarily had looked into too much, and nothing he’d ever had to think about, when round two was usually out of the question with whatever hookups he’d had. But the razor sharp edge between the two was so deliriously perfect– he may have just discovered something new about himself.
Robby’s arms tightened around his hips, as his mouth moved slightly downward, from teasing at his dick, to plunging his tongue directly into his aching entrance.
“Oh! Oh fuck–” Dennis’s voice was higher pitched than he had ever heard from himself previously, the thought of Robby tasting himself mixed so sweetly, so intimately with his own arousal, as Robby held him to his face and opened him up with his tongue. Dennis was squirming now, hips twitching back and forth in an attempt to get more friction against the ring of muscle.
For the umpteenth time that night, Dennis realized just how out of his mind he was. Robby’s mouth was warm, working him open expertly, catching each jerk of his hips with his arms. He was immobilized, completely at the mercy of Robby’s hold, his tongue.
“You’re way too good ah-at this, Robby-” Dennis whined, his dick catching and rubbing against Robby’s nose each time he shifted even minutely. Robby hummed in response, and Dennis attempted, futilely, to grind down harder into the delicious vibration of it. Robby’s stupid, beautiful, muscled arms stopped that from happening. Dennis’s muscles were burning, the dull ache in his hips throbbing with each movement, but the second his attention drifted to the pain, it was jerked back with an expert flick of a tongue or a well-timed suck at his dick.
His first orgasm snuck up on him, creeped in through the recesses of his blissed-out mind, but this one exploded from his chest with zero warning. He didn’t even get the chance to squeak out a warning before he was doubling over, hands pulling desperately at Robby’s locks.
He clenched around Robby’s tongue, his jaw snapping shut as he whined, so it came out as more of a growl than anything else. Robby kept slurping at him, hands loosening their grip to rub soothing circles in the skin that he had gripped previously. Dennis used his last fleeting ounce of strength to push weakly at Robby’s forehead, a pitiful little mewl rising from his throat as Robby’s head finally fell back against the couch. He shifted, letting his aching legs have a break, and laid himself down on top of Robby, his head settling on Robby’s chest.
Dennis could feel Robby’s heartbeat slowing from his vantage point, morphing from its hammering, quick pace to a steady beat. Robby brought a hand up, dragging his fingers through dirty blonde curls. Dennis sighed, his body finally stretching out fully, bringing his muscles some relief.
“Holy shit.” Dennis felt his eyes getting heavy as he absorbed the warmth of the body below him.
“Yeah.” Robby mumbled, bringing his free hand to his face, wiping the remnants of Dennis’s arousal from his mouth. Little sparkles of moisture still caught the light in his facial hair. They laid there like that for a few moments, just enjoying the beautiful afterglow of their encounter. At least, until Dennis propped his head up, chin digging into Robby’s sternum so he could turn to face him.
“Do you think I could take that hat home?” Dennis batted his eyelashes as he spoke.
“What? I mean– yeah. Not like I’m wearing it often.” Robby cocked an eyebrow.
“Good. I think I’ve earned it.”
Robby threw his head back with a lilting little laugh.
“Yeah Den. You earned it.”