like, robby's been invited to an awards ceremony and formal dinner for healthcare workers who've made great contributions to the field, and he's going to accept a prize. its a global event and hundreds of doctors and surgeons and nurses from across the world are in attendance. of course, he brings his darling omega dennis with him as his plus one, and he parades his pretty wife around proudly, even trying to centre dennis in the photos that are taken of them. he doesn't want a single photo alone.
dennis looks so pretty, he was excited at the chance to accompany his alpha to something so special, and robby was delighted to dress dennis up. as it is, the omega's neck and wrists are dripping with jewellery and he's in a silken dress than shimmers and shows off his delicate curves. he's stunning.
they have a lovely night and everyone adores dennis when he's introduced to them, sweet and kind and beautiful as he is. the real interesting thing starts to happen after pictures are posted online of "outstanding emergency medicine doctor" michael robinavitch- with dennis in all of them. the pictures go viral.
the comments, rather than being focused on robby's medical achievement, range from "ughhhh he treats that omega good, look at him, he's fucking glowing...", "godddd I just know his dick is fucking big, look at the smile on his omega.. he knows he's gonna feel so good later", to "michael robinavitch, alpha of the yeah... he's got that omega plump and shining, no stress on his face, you just know that robinavitch is on his hands and knees for that little blonde thing..."...
robby becomes THE ideal alpha and has a lot of alphas worldwide re-evaluate their actions when their omegas pointedly look at them to ask, why isn't my life as stress free as dennis's? why aren't I as important to you as dennis is to michael?
dennis himself finds the whole thing hilarious- though even more funny is the way robby now shows him off even more than before. he sure does have it good with michael as his alpha.
part three of the hucklerabbot stress heat fic! part one and part two can be found here :)
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The first orgasm of a stress heat is usually the hardest.
It marks the beginning of the transition between crisis and recovery, the painful drag between primal phases of existence. It’s a matter of overriding an omega’s instincts, breaking them out of the fight or flight that the circumstances have forced them into, turning the course of biology in the way that a stress heat exists to induce in the first place.
It’s grueling. It’s necessary. It’s unavoidable.
As a doctor, Robby’s long known this. He’s been through this before. He knows the protocols like the back of his hand.
As an alpha, he still has never gotten used to how goddamn distressing it always is.
“I know, sweetheart, I know it hurts. Hold on just a little longer, we’ve got you. Breathe.”
Robby has Dennis held in his lap, back to chest. His knees are hooked over Robby’s thighs, bare legs trembling and held open as Robby’s own legs stay spread, knees bent and feet planted on the mattress. Keeping Dennis exposed while he’s too limp to do it himself, ensuring access, maintaining the position as Jack stands at the end of the bed.
Dennis’s face is pressed to the side of Robby’s throat, directly over his scent gland, panting through clenched teeth. He’s already past the point of biting back whimpers. The sounds spill from him unmoderated now, desperate and pained and enough to make Robby’s heart feel like someone got a fucking fist around it the second Dennis hit the floor and has refused to release since.
They’re barely an hour in.
They still have so fucking long to go.
Things moved fast after the documents were confirmed. The heat quickly turned from building to exploding, which made things even more urgent than they already were. There was no time for any more planning— just action.
The heat brought on the pain, characteristic of a stress heat but worse than typical, and mitigation efforts were immediately rendered absolutely fucking useless.
Scenting did nothing. Medication didn’t touch it. Attempts to soothe and calm did fuck all in a way that felt goddamn helpless.
Dennis’s composure is absolutely fucking gone.
Bringing out the false knot —and inducing the first orgasm— was the last fucking line of defense to stopping the agony that’s clear in every tense line of Dennis’s frame, in every punched out little exhale, in the furious readings of the silenced heart monitor. The heat of him burns against Robby’s hold.
Ideally, they would have more time to ease into this. Time to get settled, for all three of them to adjust, to prepare for what was coming.
In reality, this has been rushed and logistic and reflexive in the way that all things are in this god forsaken ED, and Robby should have fucking known better than to hope for anything else.
“He’s getting there,” Jack murmurs, voice soft in the quiet of the room. He moves the false knot in shallow, steady thrusts between Dennis’s legs, free hand braced on his hip, keeping the patient gown bunched up and out of the way. Robby braces Dennis in turn, stilling him against Jack’s ministrations, keeping him steady. “Maybe a few more minutes.”
Dennis chokes on another shuddering whimper, muffled against Robby’s skin.
Christ. They’ve been at this for too long already, pushing Dennis further and further in an attempt to break through this first barrier, but progress has been slow enough to be nearly nonexistent.
He’s already overstimulated. The pain has yet to breach pleasure, simultaneously too much and not enough to get him where he needs to be.
The scent of his distress is fucking suffocating.
Robby’s hand has long gone numb from the buzzing of the medical-grade bullet vibrator held between his fingers, working over Dennis’s clit in slow, light circles, helping him along in whatever ways he can. His free hand is wrapped around Dennis’s wrists, tucking both of them against his chest. He’s not quite pinning him, not enough pressure behind the hold for that, but he’s keeping him in place— firm, grounding, simultaneously bracing and steadying.
Dennis still isn’t fighting them. He’s shaking hard, overwhelmed by the pain of the heat and the pain of the treatment, but he’s still letting them do what they need to.
He’s going through hell and he’s still being so goddamn good. Jesus, Robby wants to punch a wall.
“Nearly there,” Jack says, quiet and focused. Dennis whines.
It’s gradual, but there’s still a grim sense of victory to it when Robby feels Dennis start to stiffen a few moments later. Catches the change in his breathing, the way he starts to pant harder, desperate little breaths bursting over the side of Robby’s throat.
Fucking finally.
Jack’s eyes flicker over Dennis’s frame. Clocking the way he’s tensing up, back arching just slightly, air catching in his throat around a fractured moan.
“There we go,” Jack says. The relief is audible. “That’s it, pup. Gonna try and make this easier on you. Bear with us.”
His hand begins to move faster, moving away from the gentle rocking of before and back to thrusting the toy properly, driving in long, hard strokes that make Dennis choke on a strangled gasp. Jack’s free hand reaches for the false knot’s inflation bulb— not yet using it, but keeping hold of it, ready when the time comes.
“Up the vibrator’s intensity and the pressure,” he says. His eyes flicker up to meet Robby’s, grim but sure. Knowing how this goes and what needs to happen next. “He needs more to get through this phase. It needs to be at least a few levels higher.”
Jack knows what he’s doing. He’s done this before as a doctor, but he’s also been in Dennis’s place before as a patient— he knows how to get him through this, what will work, how to handle him. Knows what pain is worth the progress.
But fuck, Robby still has to brace himself at those instructions.
He can feel how strong the vibrations already are from the way they’re rattling up his arm, and kicking them up any further —especially when Dennis is already this tightly wound— is not going to be well received. He’s already holding Dennis open and vulnerable. The idea of pushing him even more than this, causing him hurt, making things even worse for the sake of making things better, is enough to make him falter.
“Robby, now.”
And even still, Jack knows so much more about this than Robby ever can, and if he says that it’s necessary, then it is.
Robby steels himself as he presses the silicone button once, twice, three times, and then tilts his wrist to nock the tip of the vibrator beneath Dennis’s hood, holding it directly against his clit.
Dennis screams.
He does fight them now, thrashing hard against their hands as Jack slides the toy home, inflating the knot in place before Dennis’s writhing can knock it loose. Dennis’s legs try to snap closed but Robby keeps him spread, wide set knees forcing him open, keeping him pinned.
Jack’s movements still haven’t slowed, rocking the knot fast and firm against Dennis’s rim as Robby holds the vibrator steady, and there’s a terrible, long moment of plateau before Dennis damn near convulses.
Robby can barely fucking breathe.
Please. Please. Please.
Dennis freezes, locked still. His breathing stutters around a ragged cry. His head is thrown back against Robby’s shoulder, throat exposed and neck corded, pupils blown wide as the first orgasm finally hits him like a freight train.
Robby can hear the gush of slick soaking the sheets.
The relief that explodes in Dennis’s scent feels like a physical blow.
And then his breath comes back to him in a frantic rush and then he’s sobbing, relieved and overwhelmed and desperate and exhausted all at once, and oh thank god.
Jesus, the relief is fucking dizzying.
The wet squelch of Jack moving the toy continues, quieter now, slower, working him through the aftershocks as Robby softens the pressure of the vibrator. They both keep the contact maintained, going gentle but not absent, staying close while easing him through.
The weariness in the air is palpable.
Jesus, Robby can’t even fucking imagine how Dennis is feeling.
“Good,” Jack murmurs, breathless and hoarse. His hand is resting at the connection point where Dennis’s leg is draped over Robby’s, his thumb sweeping from the material of Robby’s scrub pants to Dennis’s bare skin and back. Robby can’t tell if he’s talking to him or Dennis. Both, maybe. “Perfect. You’re doing so good.”
They draw it out until Dennis is whimpering from the over sensitivity, and finally, finally, this peak is over.
Robby turns off the vibrator as Jack stills the toy, leaving the knot to settle. Dennis is already attempting to squirm out of the position he’s in, trying to close his legs and turn over, and they let him this time— easing him onto his side, helping him curl into Robby, tugging the patient gown back down to cover him. Giving him the chance to rest and recoup before the next peak hits.
He’s shaking so fucking hard, and Robby can’t tell if it’s from the overstimulation or the pain or the sheer relief flooding him following release. The fever still burns where his face presses to Robby’s neck.
“One round down,” Jack murmurs. His hand eases over Dennis’s ribcage as the omega trembles against Robby, the touch soothing, grounding, despite the tiredness already in his voice. “Three more days to go.”
robby and dennis are called "big pitt" and "little pitt" by their coworkers, but what is less known is that this isn't actually based on their height. it's based on their dick sizes. and, unfortunately for her, trinity santos was the one with the information to make those nicknames.
living with dennis, it was only a matter of time until she accidentally saw him naked, and when it did happen and his towel slipped out of his hands as he went from the bathroom to his bedroom, she saw his modest little penis and smacked him with the nearest cushion. "huckleberry you dickhead! cover up!" poor dennis had cooked for three days in apology.
when she saw robby's dick by accident, the older man had been naked and getting a glass of water for dennis from the kitchen- trinity wasn't even supposed to be home in all fairness, she'd come home early from a night out that was a bit too sub-parr. nonetheless, trinity had screamed and covered her eyes at the sight, dropping her bag to protect herself from the horrific sight of her bosses (disturbingly large) dick- which, even worse, had presumably just been inside her best friend.
robby had screamed too, throwing the glass of water into the sink to cover his crotch. this of course led to a half asleep and equally naked dennis appearing, and soon everyone was screaming. trinity wanted to wash her eyes out with bleach.
the upshot of it all was that robby transferred her six months of rent in one go as an apology, and also a much more formal spoken apology, which trinity decided to accept on the condition that she had power over their new nicknames- based on the penises she had unhappily seen, rather than their heigjt. hence, big pitt and little pitt are born, and trinity threatens that if she ever sees either one of their dicks again, she's telling princess and perlah what those names are REALLY for.
despite being the least tech-savy person on earth, robby has an instagram account. however, you would likely be mistaken into thinking that his instagram account was, in fact, a fan page dedicated to dennis whitaker.
robby has never posted a single picture of just himself, ever. he has, on the other hand, posted (to date) 238 photos of dennis doing different things. robby was told instagram was for important or nice pictures you wanted your friends to see, and so he's figured out that the love of his life is the most important of all. he also doesn't know how to type well on a phone keyboard, so there is never punctuation in his captipns, and he also doesn't know what captions should be, and so the paragraphs he writes are.. interesting.
(on a picture he's taken of dennis snuggled in bed and dozing in the morning, hair messy and dressed in robby's hoodie) "here is my beautiful and lovely dennis in bed he's not awake yet i am going to bring him coffee and also toast he looks lovely in my clothes and to wake him up I am going to kiss him".
(on a selfie of him and dennis where dennis is dressed in a new tailored suit) "i have bought my pretty dennis a new suit he looks very handsome and the colour is very nice I can't wait to take him on a date and of course I will pay the bill please look at how beautiful he looks".
(on a blurry picture of dennis smiling with a birthday cake) "happy birthday to the love of my life the prettiest boy in the world you are so special and beautiful dennis I love you you are the queen of my heart and I will do anything for you you deserve everything and more I love you so so much happy birthday my love".
dennis finds it fucking adorable and screenshots every post. when robby's page becomes the most followed out of everyone in the entire ptmc, he assumes it's because everyone also wants to see how pretty dennis is. dennis never has the heart to tell him that people find his captions hilarious.
jack is the man with the "you never know when you might need it" drawer full of junk and scraps. That man throws away absolutely NOTHING. One day Robby decided that no, this shit needs to be thrown away, and literally the day after something from it actually would have come in handy and Jack has never felt so vindicated in his entire life.
He’s brushing his teeth over the bathroom sink, eyeing his tired face, watching his toothbrush go in and out of his mouth and getting flickering reminders of late last night.
“Michael—” whined high and reedy, that gorgeous face twisted in pleasure, panting into Robby’s mouth as he jostled beneath him, moaning into the air where their breath met.
He leans down and spits into the sink.
His thumb hooked over Dennis’ bottom lip and teeth, keeping that pretty mouth open as he spat onto that pink tongue, hearing the desperate and keened little “thank you,” his boy garbled around his thumb a moment later.
He lifts his brows as he sticks his tongue out and examines it in the mirror.
“Open your legs,” he breathed, watching his cock sink deeper into Dennis’ greedy little hole, “Show me how good you’re taking it, baby.”
He shakes his head in disbelief, smiling, as he tosses his toothbrush into the cup next to the green one and heads back into his bedroom.
Dennis is still asleep, as expected, on his day off.
“Please, please,” Dennis begged so pretty, staring up at him with big blue eyes lined with tears. Robby knew he could beg better than that, made him work for it.
The brat kept him up late and got to sleep in while Robby’s in need of a pot of coffee or two.
Sunk three fingers into that tight heat half an hour later, curled them until Dennis hiccuped on a sob, crying, “Fuck yes, right there, right there, oh, fuck—” and came over his own belly, untouched.
He goes to the bed and leans over Dennis’ sleeping form and admires him for a moment. He’s curled up on his side, his expression softened and peaceful, his breathing even and slow. Tired from last night, hm?
He leans down and presses a kiss to Dennis’ temple, then his cheekbone, then his cheek — until the younger man is stirring, a confused little sound in the back of his throat before he hums happily, realizing who it is.
It makes Robby’s heart soar.
“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs.
Dennis nods, doesn’t even crack an eye open, but he does lift his chin and gently pout his lips in silent request. Robby kisses him once, twice, before Dennis lets his head fall back onto the pillow with a sleepy sigh.
It’s going to be hard to focus at work. He knows it.
Hucklerobby breeding kink but the kind w scheduled sex - they have sex alarms for when would be the best time to try for a baby, and they have to fuck when these alarms go off, no matter what. A couple times theyve snuck off at work, or Robby has bent dennis over and pulled his pants down while he’s working in the kitchen. Several times it’s sleepy sex, Dennis seated on Robby, both just barely moving, no urgency, just another attempt and they can go back to sleep. Maybe this time.