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Suddenly, the reason behind Dr. Abbot’s phone call today clicks into place. Glancing casually over his shoulder, Dennis realizes why Dr. Abbot warned Dennis about his brother’s special interest in Dennis. It’s finally happening. Dennis has been sticking to his plan. He leaves work everyday by himself. He always walks home and he always takes the shortcut.
Honestly, the warning was…unnecessary. He’d only seen Pope a handful of times; at first, it was only in the ED and always with the man standing next to Dr. Abbot. After…Dennis started seeing him when he left PTMC…then on his walk home…late at night, outside his building…Dennis had become intrigued. Dennis had never had a stalker before. There’s never been someone so interested in Dennis that they’ve wanted to follow him everywhere. Never had someone who wanted to watch him sleep. Dennis wanted to turn around and say something when he realized he had an overly-large shadow. Dennis wanted to invite the man standing outside his window into his bedroom so that the man could stand over his bed.
He wants to feel the safety of not even having to check over his shoulder, knowing there’s a loyal dog following him and protecting him. Dennis wants a man that’s so desperate for him, that he’d be willing to craft a plan to take Dennis for himself.
Facing forward, the hair remains raised on the back of his neck. Even without looking a second time, Dennis knows he’s being followed. His heart races faster when he hears the scuffle of a boot on concrete from not far behind him. That prey instinct in his hindbrain urges him to run! Run right now! Breath coming faster, the shallow breaths only fueling the fight or flight reflex. Not yet… Dennis thinks to himself. It’s too open, he can’t let anyone see.
Suddenly cutting to the right, Dennis turns into the alley at a sprint. He’s always been fast. Out in Nebraska, he was often running full tilt. Whether running with the dogs, chasing escaped cattle, or fleeing from his brothers. So yeah, Dennis is fast, but Pope is faster.
He’s not even halfway down the alley when strong arms wrap around him. He’s practically clotheslined by the hold, his stalker slowing their momentum with heavy, stumbling stomps. He has no chance to plant his feet or to fight; he’s hauled up and is being twisted. He automatically starts flailing his legs, trying to break the hold, or land a kick to the sturdy legs behind him. When he can’t break away, he throws an elbow back, and is satisfied when it connects. The grunt from the impact is so quiet that Dennis hardly hears it. He’s jostled and the grip around him readjusts. One hand remains banded around his waist, holding him airborne and the other now crosses his chest and pins his arms.
He’s carted down the length of the alley, still kicking and squirming. Other than his harsh breathing, he doesn’t make a noise. He doesn’t scream. He doesn't call for help. At the other end there’s a large, black truck parked so that it’s closing off the exit. He’s pinned against the side by a strong body against his back. He continues squirming, but all he succeeds in doing is writhing himself against the length of his stalker’s front.
The back door beside him is wrenched open. Something is retrieved, but Dennis doesn’t know what it is, until a bag is pulled over his head. Next, his arms are wrangled behind his back and tied together; whatever it is, it’s soft and doesn’t hurt when Dennis tries to break free. Emitting a small squeak, he’s lifted like he weighs nothing and is placed on the backseat. The door clicks closed and Dennis is plunged into further darkness.
It’s nice and cool, the leather under his cheek surprisingly comfortable. There’s the sound of another door opening and closing, followed by the creaking of leather. He’s jostled as the truck shifts gears and begins to move. There’s the smallest click and then music is filling the cabin. He listens to the guitar rifts for a moment and snorts when he recognizes Alive by P.O.D.
“Something funny?” The voice is hoarse, Dennis assumes from disuse. He tries to picture the man in the front seat of the big truck, nu metal blaring on the speakers. Dennis wonders if he drives one handed or with hands at ten and two? He can’t help the giggle that escapes at the mental image. The screeching of tires is loud in the quiet night and Dennis slides across the leather seats; he strains, arching his body to keep himself from falling into the floorboard. The sound of the gear shifting has Dennis’s eyes going wide, even with the bag over his head, and his breath halts when he hears the click of a belt unbuckling. The door opens and slams shut and is followed with the door by Dennis’s feet opening.
Hands gripping his ankles, Dennis is dragged across the backseat. Once standing, he’s shoved against the side of the truck with his hands being pinned at an awkward angle behind him. Dennis giggles, picturing Pope’s stoic face and furrowed brow; he doesn’t have to picture if for long, because the bag is suddenly ripped off of his head.
Greeted by the exact expression he expected, the mirthful smile only grows on Dennis’s face. Pope’s eyebrows practically grind together and his head tilts down at a fourty-five degree angle.
“Are you actually enjoying this? Pope sounds surprised, in his own way.
“C’mere and I’ll tell you,” Dennis taunts. He watches the way a muscle flutters in Pope’s jaw. A big hand appears in his periphery and Pope squeezes either side of Dennis’s face.
“Careful,” Pope warns, even as he starts to lean in. Once Dennis is close enough to brush skin, Pope’s hold on his face loosens. Dennis cranes his neck to be even closer, so that his lips are brushing Pope’s ear.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Dennis whispers. The stocky man shivers at the words.
“No. You haven’t.” He denies immediately.
“I know you’ve been following me. You didn’t think I’d notice you? I’m not like these city boys.” Dennis squirms, not quite fighting the hold, but wiggling around enough to rub himself against his stalker. Pope remains silent, his eyes staring blankly as his lips twist in thought. “I saw you outside my apartment,” Dennis is able to to press a chaste kiss to Pope’s ear. “Wanted to invite you in,” Dennis admits, his voice taking on a breathy quality. “Thought about you watching over me while I slept.” Dennis grinds his hips forward and feels the way Pope is getting hard. “Mmmm, I dreamed you climbed on my bed,” the rolling of his hips becomes purposeful; he’s desperate to feel Pope get fully hard. “I always sleep without any panties,” a soft whine escapes the man at the words, “in my dream you pushed up my shirt and saw.” Pope’s hands tighten their hold on Dennis and his hips twitch forward. “You pushed your cock inside me while I was still asleep,” Dennis can feel how wet he is now. “In my dream, I woke up to you already fucking me…wished it was real,” Dennis whines.
“You’d really like that?” Pope asks stiltedly.
“Want proof? Feel how wet I am,” Dennis coaxes. Pope pulls back enough that he can stare Dennis down. They gaze, unblinkingly, for several moments, but Dennis has to give in when his eyes start burning. In the span of one blink, Pope has stuffed his hand down the front of Dennis’s scrubs. He knew it was a good idea to stop changing after work.
Large fingers pet clumsily through his wetness. Pope’s movements are restricted by the tight material of Dennis's cotton panties; he's been wearing similar pairs every day, hoping each night that Pope would finally snap.
“Feel how wet I am for you? I wasn't lying.” Pope whimpers, his head dipping forward to plant his forehead on Dennis's shoulder.
“You ever fucked a man’s pussy?” Dennis teases. Without reading his head, Pope shakes in the negative. “Want to?” Dennis didn't even know his voice could sound like that. “‘M so wet, you could just slip it in.” Pope is making low, needy noises, his fingers starting to play with Dennis’s tdick. Dennis bucks into the sensation and cries out louder than he meant to.
A hand instantly covers his mouth, cutting off the loud wail. “Gotta be quiet,” he grounds out, not moving his hand. “Don't want anybody to see us. Do we?” Pope challenges. Dennis frantically shakes his head no. His legs start to tremble as Pope pets over his weeping hole.
The world is suddenly spinning. Dennis’s chest is pressed into the side of the truck with a small oof from the impact. Pope has flipped him around and is crowding him against the vehicle. The way Dennis feels surrounded by the man has Dennis dripping down his legs; the material is so damp that it feels like even his scrub pants are sticking to his center. Dennis is breathless when his pants are shoved down and they catch around his knees. The scrubs tighten as they’re bunched up and Dennis finds that he’s unable to move his legs, because of the new restriction.
His hands are tied. His legs are stuck. He’s completely helpless to the man who’s captured him.
Pope feels massive like this. The broadness of his shoulders and the bulge of his muscles completely hide Dennis from outside view. Someone could walk past right now and nobody would even see him, Dennis thinks whistfully. Large hands grip his waist and Pope uses the hold to tilt Dennis’s pelvis. Dennis is forced into an arch, his chest and face pressed against the warm metal of the truck. His hips are pushed out and presenting his ass to the man. There’s the sound of a belt being undone and it clinks as it hangs loosely from his belt loops. The jeans unzip and Pope hisses softly, in what sounds like, relief. After, Pope makes no noise and doesn’t move for a moment. Dennis decides to push a little more.
“Andrew,” Dennis croons sweetly.
“No. No. No! You’re not supposed to know that!” Dennis’s heart begins to race as warning bells go off in his mind. “How do you know about that,” Andrew demands, pressing against Dennis and pushing him harder against the truck.
“Looked you up,” Dennis mumbles, “after that first time I saw you in the Pitt.” The same hand from before lands on his mouth to silence him again.
“You can’t say anything. Don’t even think about telling anyone,” Andrew threatens in Dennis’s ear.
“mmdnt-” Dennis mumbles against Andrew’s palm, until the man uncovers his mouth.
“Wouldn’t tell anyone, Andy. Want you, please,” he begs. He desperately wants to bring Andrew back into the moment. He needs Andrew to trust him. To want him.
“Really? You want me? Even after seeing what I am? What I’ve done?” Andrew doesn’t sound like he believes Dennis at all.
“‘Course, Andrew. It just told me that you’d be able to take care of me. Protect me.” He cranes his neck to look at Andrew over his shoulder. “Who else could I trust to follow me home? Protect my apartment and Trin? Take care of me while I sleep?” Dennis prompts faux-innocently. Andrew huffs out a disbelieving breath.
“Just me.” It’s all he says.
Suddenly, there’s a cock pressing between his legs. Dennis squeaks when he feels the size of it. Andrew might split him in half, Dennis worries. It’s hot and throbbing between his thighs; the skin is so slick that Andrew slides between easily. The top of his cock drags along Dennis’s lips and his drooling hole drips all over Andrew’s length, coating him with slick. One of the hands disappears from his waist and the other guides Dennis into a better position.
Something warm and soft and smooth presses against his pussy. Dennis lewdly imagines it’s like a chaste kiss, the way it just presses against him, not pushing in. Whining in the back of his throat, there are two hands on him again, now petting down his sides. The tip applies more pressure and Dennis can feel the way he starts to part around the intrusion. Sweat beads at his brow, upper lip, and even his lower back as he feels himself stretching open. With the smallest roll of Andrew’s hips, the tip pops inside and it disappears within Dennis. He can’t help the way his hips writhe, but all it accomplishes is impaling himself further on Andrew’s cock. Every inch drags along his walls deeper and deeper, until Andrew’s pressed tightly against his ass.
Dennis has never felt so full. He feels completely speared open. His most intimate place is stretched beyond belief. It’s so much that he feels it in the back of his throat. When Andrew draws back, he only stops when just the tip is left buried inside Dennis. He can’t stand it. Now that he knows what it feels like to be full of Andrew, even being a second without him feels like torture. He’s so empty and squeezing around nothing. Andrew snaps his hips forward and Dennis wails. A large hand automatically cups Dennis’s face and covers his mouth.
"Shut. Up.” Andrew growls and his palm barely muffles Dennis’s wild keen. He tries looking over his shoulder at Andrew, but his eyes are hazy and can’t focus properly. Dennis tries pressing his hips back into Andrew, but the man’s other hand manages to hold him immobile. “Don’t move,” he commands. Obeying, Dennis remains still as Andrew begins fucking into him. He’s quick to build a steady pace, each thrust of his hips has Dennis panting through his nose. He’s so wet that the sound of Andrew fucking him echos in their surroundings.
Andrew is nearly silent. All huffs and quiet grunts. Dennis thinks he hears Andrew whimpering, but if his is, the man is obviously doing a very good job hiding it. He frequently leans forward to drag his lips and nose against any skin that he can reach; it’s as if he can’t get enough of Dennis’s smell.
The angle of the thrusts has his cervix beginning to ache, but in the best way possible. There’s a sensation building in his gut, a pressure rising like he’s going to pee himself. The hand on his hip repositions to the back of his neck, holding him in place. His face is smooshed into the metal uncomfortably, but Dennis can’t even find it in himself to care.
“Gonna take care of you,” Andrew finally mumbles into the back of Dennis’s neck. “‘M gonna follow you every day. See you get home safe. Gonna sit outside your house. I’ll wait for you to fall asleep and I’ll break in. Use that window on the fire escape you always keep unlocked.” Dennis’s eyes widen in surprise at the previously unknown information. “I’ll watch you sleep,” Andrew whispers, his hips speeding up with every thrust. “I’ll touch you while you sleep, like in your dream. You won’t even know if it really happens,” Dennis can feel the way Andrew is beginning to twitch inside him. Each thrust draws out a warm sensation in Dennis’s pussy, something warm leaking deep inside of him.
The scenario that Andrew is describing to him, has Dennis practically sobbing into Andrew’s palm. He wants it so badly! He wants Andrew to follow through on his words. He wishes it was a promise.
Finally, finally Andrew changes the angle just enough to hit that spot inside him. His head drops back onto Andrew’s shoulder and his legs begin trembling. Andrew is forced to wrap a forearm around his abdomen to hold him up. The force of his orgasm is earth shattering. Everything goes completely white and he feels as if he’s drifting.
Blinking to awareness, Andrew is pistoning in and out of him. Aggressively fucking himself into Dennis as if he’s trying to carve a space just for himself to fit. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet splattering sound. Dennis has never felt so wet; he can feel the way it’s dripping down his thighs and it must be coating both of their pants. Did he…squirt? He’s never squirted before.
Andrew is finally grunting audibly against Dennis’s shoulder. Focusing, Dennis squeezes his pelvic floor like he does during his kegel exercises. The whine that Andrew emits is music to his ears. The thrusting loses its rhythm and Dennis feels himself being flooded with warmth. The sensation is so foreign, but Dennis is obsessed. He wants to be full of Andrews cum always. Wants a nice plug to keep it all inside.
The hold on him finally goes lax. Andrew is still barely holding up both of their weight where they’re propped against the side of the truck. They’re both panting for air, skin tacky with sweat. Cum is beginning to drip from around the base of Andrew’s cock and it’s cold as it dribbles down Dennis’s legs. Humming contentedly, Dennis turns until Andrew meets him halfway. They nuzzle their faces together.
“If you take me home, I’ll go to bed; you can break in and I’ll pretend to be asleep.”