Abbot (as we already know) is a HUGE flirt. Dude flirts with everyone. Literally anyone, anywhere, it does not matter, he will flirt with them.
Which of course makes Whitaker's secret little crush on him even more humiliating, watching him flirt with literally everyone… well, everyone except Dennis.
No, he barely even bothers acknowledging Dennis, at most says his name in passing to direct him to a case. He can barely even look Dennis in the eyes, and when Dennis does catch Jack looking at him, it’s to find the attending glaring at him from across the hub.
And Dennis is half convinced Jack hates him with how he clams up whenever they end up in the same orbit as each other. The man barely manages to string together more than two words to make jilted small talk.
So yeah, Dennis wonders if it’s a one sided rivalry over Robby warming up to Dennis so fast. If Jack feels like Dennis is somehow getting in the way of their friendship.
And he hates it, because he just… doesn’t understand what he did to make Jack dislike him so much. Jack gets along so easily with everyone else, fuck he flirts with anyone with a pulse.
Of course what Whitaker doesn’t know is that Abbot has a MASSIVE fucking crush on him, and he literally cannot make his brain work around the boy. Like Jack’s brain just goes on an endless loop babbling about how pretty and talented Dennis is whenever he gets within five feet of the suntanned farm boy.
He can’t help trying to avoid Dennis at all costs, he can’t take the chance that he might accidentally kill someone because his brain got stuck staring at how one of Dennis’s curls caught the light and suddenly made him look like a literal angel.
He can’t function if he’s reduced to a puddle of hormones and yearning. So he does his best to avoid the problem.
It all comes to a head when Dennis starts his night shift rotation, and Jack’s avoidance only get’s worse and more pronounced. Because somehow, more exposure to the kid only ratchets up his desire. Jack literally has to run from him at one point to save himself the embarrassment of getting hard mid trauma.
So Dennis corners Jack in the stairwell one day. Demanding Jack explain what the fuck his problem is, because Dennis is a good fucking doctor and he doesn’t deserve to have his attending treating him like he’s a pariah.
And Jack, like a deer in headlights, just stares at how pretty Dennis is when he’s angry. Bright blue eyes shining with frustration, forearm muscles flexed and looking deliciously thick as he rudely pokes Jack in the shoulder for his lack of a response.
It’s only when Dennis huffs and turns to storm off, assuming this is all a lost cause, that Jack reaches out to snag his wrist and pull him back.
The element of surprise on his side, pulling a stumbling Dennis right into his chest, where he slots their mouths together like he’s been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on the kid.
A sweet little noise of shock startled out of Dennis before he melts into the kiss.
Suddenly a lot of things make more sense in Dennis’s mind. Because maybe, when real feelings are involved, Jack isn’t actually so great at being the suave flirt everyone thinks he is.
“Um- one of my uncles drank himself to death. Barely recognised him at the end. At least Louie always seemed happy.”
Sometimes, Dennis thought, there was a kindness in lying to people. And really, in the most fundamental way, he wasn’t strictly lying. Uncle Tommy (not to be confused with his brother Tom, who was a bastard of the highest proportions) had drunk himself to death, unable to cope with what, in hindsight, Dennis assumed was crippling, untreated depression, likely undiagnosed BPD, and a catastrophic, seething self-hatred for being a homosexual. And to say the man was unrecognisable was also true, if one took the word literally. Unfortunately for Dennis’s fifteen-year-old self, a 12-gauge shotgun under the chin left most people looking unrecognisable. It also left the majority of their skull and brain matter spread across the walls of the room they were in.
robby, who thinks dennis is this naive, eager little thing who would wait on him hand and foot. in a way he is completely correct, dennis absolutely would.
he uses this to his advantage and reels dennis in promptly, only taking a few months of lingering touches and whispering praises to get him locked in.
they have their little routine. they leave work at separate times, dennis walks to the bus stop, robby picks him up, they go back to robby’s place and fuck each other a million ways into the night.
it’s really fucking good sex, but robby notices dennis starts to get a little… clingy. nothing too crazy, but he starts staying even longer after their rendezvous and hovers around robby a little more at work. it becomes too much for robby and he breaks it off justttt after seven weeks of their involvement.
he tells dennis it’s just too risky, there is just too much on the line for them to continue it. dennis is confused and upset and he tries to be an adult about it but, fuck, it came out of nowhere and it felt just a bit humiliating.
dennis tried to be an adult about it at work but he couldn’t help the way his face turned red in anger when he was near robby or the short, one worded answers he gave him when he was asked a question. even when robby cornered him in the break room trying to make sure they were cool, dennis told him to fuck off and leave him alone and stormed out into the hub.
this went on for a week or so. it wasn’t unexpected, robby was used to it from his track record and dennis did a good job making sure his work stayed solid and robby was the only one getting the brunt of his anger.
robby knew to take his reaction in stride and just keep working and stay unbothered but one day, it just stopped.
dennis stopped avoiding him, he could actually look robby in the eye as they talked, and his face stayed a nice and neutral beige when talking.
he was confused by the sudden change. he never liked to admit it, but he loved it when his ‘exes’ got rude with him. he loved a little attitude and challenge, he couldn’t lie. but even so, it was like a flip had just switched and dennis was no longer affected by what happened. it was good, he supposed.
he thought about it a little too much for his liking and he started to get a little peeved that dennis wasn’t upset anymore. like he was upset he moved on. whatever, he doesn’t want to think about it anymore so after a night of tossing and turning he made his way over to jacks place. he needed to talk to someone about whatever was going on in his fucked up head.
he gave him no warning, his truck being parked in the driveway was invitation enough. he pulled up and walked up to the front door, giving it a good, sturdy knock. he waited at the door for a minute or two before raising his hand to knock again, but the door opened suddenly, his hand falling into the open space.
his mouth dropped open at the sight in front of him. it wasn’t jack who had answered the door, not even some random woman from the bar. that had happened a time or two too many for him to have been surprised if that was the situation.
no, standing in front of him was dennis, clearly just waking up from an eventful night. his eyes were peering up at him, sleep still etched in the bags. he was wearing a shirt that hung off of his body, a shirt he recognized jack wearing years ago in medical school. the shirt fell off his shoulders and exposed a trail of dark marks that littered the bottom of dennis’ neck all the way down, disappearing under the fabric.
he stood there at a loss for words as he took in dennis’s state. before he even had the chance to speak, jack appeared behind dennis, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him in to his side.
“hey, brother, you wanna come inside? we’re just making breakfast.”
here me out... hybrid puppy Dennis 👀 I will leave you with that
Okay so hear me out.
-Duke absolutely knows he's got a big chance of dying and also that there's an even bigger chance of Robby straight up killing himself if he does. He managed to get through to him once, somehow, maybe, but seeing Robby with his brittle grasp on recovery guide him at his appointments, he's not sure anything will get through to him if he dies.
So he pulls some strings with some contacts and a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-biker-gang sets him up with this sad, broken little hybrid rescue. He's got the saddest big blue eyes you've ever seen, the fluffiest soft ears and tails, and sometimes a glimmer of surprising sass when you least expect it. Robby loves a project, and from what he saw at the hospital, the guy needs to feel needed.
"Robby man, I will get the surgery but you need to promise you'll take care of something for me, whether I make it or not."
-Robby says yes, because of course he does. He's thinking maybe it's a bike or his house or Duke's garage, but he's got all that under control. No, Duke cheerfully drops off a sad-eyed hybrid boy with a sob story about how if Duke didn't take him, he'd end up in a fighting ring again and the kid deserved a break but now with the surgery he wouldn't be able to take care of poor Dennis.
-Hybrids are usually just as smart as humans, they just don't get treated as such. Dennis had been a great help on the farm, even if his brothers treated him more like a pet than a little brother. But then he'd started to get sassy. And have opinions. And think for himself. And sooner or later they decided he wasn't worth the troubles and he'd been given up to a shelter.
His life had been rough after that. Returned several times, for back speaking, for the family cat not liking him (the family cat didn't like anyone, Dennis was pretty sure that was just an excuse when the family realised there was a whole thinking person behind those fluffy ears), for biting (well then don't try to force a dick in his mouth).
The last one was a death sentence, he got a stamp on his file that said volatile, and nobody at the shelter would listen when he tried to explain. The dog fighting ring hadn't been a joke, that's where he'd been found, trying to hold his own. He was wiry and pretty tough, but they started putting him up against guys twice his size, and well, he was going to die there, he was pretty sure.
-The biker that went all John Wick and rescued him didn't say much, but did show him a picture of a little boy and a dog with soft ears and a curly tail just like Dennis', and then he understood. He offered to let the guy pet his ears and very wisely kept his mouth shut when he saw the tears.
Dennis wasn't meant to be a biker gang dog, though. Sure he was scrappy and he could be sassy, but he was also a shit liar and not that intimidating, even in a leather jacket.
Which was how he ended up with Duke, and later Robby. And he was determined to make this work.
-He’s been briefed by Duke about what Robby needs, and he’s been reading up on therapy hybrids on Duke’s rickety old desktop computer from the moment he got there to the moment he was dropped off at Robby’s. Robby looks flustered and unsure of what to do, because he did promise, and Dennis just looks at him with big, sad eyes and asks him very seriously: “What colour is your motorcycle?"
-It breaks the ice, which is exactly what Dennis intended. They talk, and slowly but surely, Robby seems to accept him as less of a massive burden he needed to take on to help his friend and more as a weird house guest that won't need too much attention. Which is fine by Dennis. He knows The Plan.
-He’s there when Robby gets home from therapy. The house is spotless, dusted and vacuumed and even mopped. There's laundry going, and the entire place smells like banana bread. Because well, those bananas looked ready to grow legs and move out.
Robby laughs when he says as much, which he feels is a good sign he's not going to be sent back for having a smart mouth, at least.
-Dennis learns Robby's rhythms. When to be a distraction, asking question after question about Doctor Stuff or Motorcycle Stuff or about anything he can think of. Robby seems to like teaching people, and Dennis likes learning new things, so it works.
He also learns how to gently bully Robby into taking care of himself. Taking a shower, going on walks ("Robby, you promised you'd show me what a city bodega looks like!"), actually resting. It was pretty hard to be stressed about needing to answer e-mails when you had a hybrid who just so happened to tip over and fall asleep on your lap in the evening.
-The first time Robby absentmindedly scritched Dennis' ears during one of his faux naps, he nearly melted.
-But then there's a thunderstorm. Big and loud and he's fine, he's totally fine. He manages to keep his whines low and quiet, manages to hide his flattened ears by putting the hood up on the hoodie Robby had given to him (when he found out Dennis did not actually enjoy dressing like a biker, that's just the clothes that were given to him). His tail was tucked between his legs, yes, but if he sat just so, it'd just look cozy. He couldn't look scared, that wasn't what a not-a-therapy-dog was supposed to be.
Except then there was another flash of light, and the power went out. Before Dennis could respond, the thunder crashed, and seemingly went on forever, and he was curled up underneath the couch, shaking.
-Robby finds him there, whining and panting, and gently pulled him out and into his lap. Dennis kept apologising, shivering, but also pressing closer, seeking comfort in the now-familiar scent and warm arms around him.
-He ends up getting to sleep in Robby's bed that night as the storm rages around them, in the light of some battery-powered candles. He only feels slightly better about his failure when Robby wakes up from a nightmare and he's there, ready to return the favour.
-He doesn't sleep in his own bed often after that.
send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it
How do we feel about serial killer Dennis Whitaker-
The first time he did it was out of panic, he's broke and a collage student he had to make due some how. So he goes around using his body for money until one day someone try's to keep him telling him there going to drug him up making him the prettiest sex doll ever. He panicks and grabs the nearest sharp thing, and the thing about being a soon to be doctor is you know where to aim. So naturally he one taps the dude hides the body and moves on with his life. He still hooking up with dudes but once he sees the guy he killed on the news and nobody has a clue it was him he gets a rush. It was exciting and thrilling playing with your life in that way. Dennis didn't have much to loss anyways no money no friends and ni family that wanted him-so he keeps going, keeps sleeping with men and it any try's to one up him he just straight up kills him
Flash forward season one, Robby falls in love with the idea of this shy little boy running around his ER all nervous and seeking out praise. Robby falls easily into the trap many men did- so at the end of his shift he sees Dennis sneek up to the 8th wing, big problem for Dennis that's were he keeps some body parts and most of his utensils he likes to use I mean no one checks this floor anyways and know one would now it was him if they did find this stuff, unknown to him Robby is there mortified and Dennis just kinda manipulates the shit out of him into believing that this was okay and Robby surprisingly goes along with it.
Dennis expects to be fired the next day and turned into the police but instead he's told he's doing night shifts he meets Abbot and learns that both Robby and Abbot are married through shen, Dennis panics but trust not to show while he works at some point through the shift he learns that Abbot also works with the SWAT team and is a veteran. Dennis thinks to himself that Robby just wanted to play with him a little before letting his husband deal with him and turn him. At the end of the shift he finds himself safe though stupidly he goes to the 8th wing again bc unfortunate for him he also kinda lives there and again he has company. Abbot decoding to follow him and see everything for himself Ro by having told everything to him just that prier evening. Dennis sees him and panic telling him a hundred excuses but to his surprise Abbot just laughs and looks at him with an amused expression and tells him that he already knew and that hell offer to keep everything under raps and help him out in exchange he goes to live with the two. Dennis thinks this is a trap but he goes anyways cause again he doesn't have .much to loss and even if they turn him in at least he had a good run.
Instead he finds that Abbot did in fact keep his word and is helping him keep himself safe and help him with the bodies he even goes as far as to lead the police away from Dennis every time they get even the slightest bit close to knowing who it is. And Robby? He gets off to it, he likes to watch Dennis pick and fuck his victims before ultimately killing them and then fucking Dennis himself. Sometimes he gets over protective of Dennis and will stay there and make sure whoever it is is following directions and stays in his lane.
Knowing that Eridians have much longer lifespans, and also he can't be at every school on the planet at once, Ryland Grace decides to record a bunch of entertaining science lessons with Rocky's help.
Hundreds of years later, Eridian kids still get excited when the substitute teacher rolls in the 3D shape projector, because they know they're in for an episode of Friend Grace the Science Ace.
- being ashamed of what one desires (bonus points if it’s piss)
- Robby seeing Dennis on his security cameras
- Grindr fic, play with the idea of how we want to control how we are perceived
you're a true genius and a hero and I tried to make this shorter but it's 4k.
Here's the AO3 link for those not inclined to read this much text on tumblr.
(the other two prompts may ... also eventuate.)
____________________________________________________________
It's not that he enjoys holding on for hours and hours. He can, yeah, he's cultivated the skill. You don't get through a single fucking shift in a hospital without having to learn to hold your piss. You're not getting a chance to duck out to the bathroom in the middle of a trauma when you're wrist-deep in someone's chest.
He never had to do it on the farm. Anywhere you were, out on the property, you could just unzip and take a leak. He misses that freedom, a little, but mostly, he's good at putting his physical needs to the back of his mind, putting them on a backburner and letting himself focus on the work that needs doing.
It's Robby who ruins it.
"You're jiggling your foot," the attending tells him, as he sits in Robby's chair and charts.
He is. He hadn't realized, but, there it is.
"Yeah," he replies, through a mouthful of protein bar. This is his moment to catch up on the paperwork so he doesn't have to stay late. Again. He might as well also use the moment to eat. He's learned, by now, that if you don't eat when you can, you don't eat.
Pissing just seems lower on the priority list.
"When was the last time you went to the bathroom?" Robby asks, voice low. His boss would hardly be asking him this. His husband, though, would.
"Uh, I don't know," Dennis answers, distractedly. He's trying to focus on listing the history he took for a fifteen year old with what looks like it's going to be an ectopic pregnancy. "Like, this morning?"
"It's four in the afternoon," Robby tells him, flat.
Yeah, this is not information Dennis needs right now, so he tunes it out. Filters it through his 'what's most urgent' lens and finds it wanting. He doesn't bother answering.
Before he can even flinch from the movement, Robby's yanking him up out of the chair by his arm.
"Robby!" he hisses, but he's being forcibly marched to the bathroom.
Dana and Mel watch with vaguely bemused expressions. They're used to Robby's particular brand of manhandling by now. Especially now that it comes with a golden ring attached.
"Take your moment. Go on. Piss," Robby orders, steering him to the urinal and planting him in front of it.
"Are you kidding me?" he snaps, turning to face Robby with a scowl. "I was in the middle of charting, you can't just - drag me in here. People will think we're fucking."
Robby turns him back around by the shoulders, firm.
"Let 'em," he says, shrugging. "Wouldn't be the first time."
He stands, watching, arms crossed. He's clearly not leaving until Dennis has his dick out.
Huffing, he unzips, but doesn't pull himself out of his boxers. He's honestly a little angry that Robby is treating him like a fucking child.
"Okay, you can go," he snaps. "I'm a big boy. Don't need you to aim."
Robby levels him with a flat stare. Doesn't move an inch.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm a grown man, I can handle my own bodily functions," Dennis grumbles. Anyone could walk in, and there'd be Doctors Robinavitch and Whitaker, married weirdos who can't even piss without one another.
God help them if Jack ends up in here, too. They'll never live it down. The night shift is the only thing that keeps their marriage from being an all-out three musketeers joke.
"Oh, really?" Robby drawls. "Because it doesn't look that way to me. Looks like you're gonna fuck up your kidneys by ignoring what your body needs."
Yes, alright, not pissing for long periods of time will cause renal damage, but he thinks that's a bit of an exaggeration for just - not going for a few hours.
Well. 10 hours.
"We work in the emergency department. There's been emergencies," he retorts. He could have just gone by now, been back out at his desk, but. He's not great at backing down from an argument.
"And you've had at least two opportunities to get in here before now," Robby says. When it becomes clear that Dennis isn't moving, isn't going to piss on command just because Robby told him to, he sighs and rolls his sleeves up.
Fuck.
He moves in behind Dennis, the warm solid strength of him at his back. God, he's never quite gotten over how much Robby dwarfs him.
"What're you - "
But he cuts off when Robby reaches into his boxers, and pulls out his soft cock. Anyone could walk in. This is humiliating.
"I am not a child," he whispers, outraged. Robby doesn't stop. He takes Dennis' cock in one hand, and aims over the urinal trench.
"C'mon, kid," he murmurs, right into his ear. "Wouldn't have to do this if you'd just look after yourself."
This is beyond fucking humiliating. He can feel his cheeks going pink. Robby might be a little over-protective, a little controlling when it comes to, well, his wellbeing. But it's never gone this far.
"I - Robby, c'mon, I can't, like this," he whines. To his horror, he's getting a little hard. Robby's hand on him has the same effect, no matter what he's doing.
"Can and will," Robby tells him, matter-of-fact. He takes his other hand and places it, splayed and big and firm, on Dennis' lower belly, pressing down.
He whimpers.
"Not fair," he bites, but - fuck, yeah, he can feel it now. He does need to go. And that pressing on his bladder, it's not helping.
A tiny bit of piss leaks out from the head of his cock, and he tries his best to hold it back, but.
"There we go," Robby hums, satisfied, holding him firm and watching as a steady stream of yellow piss releases from him. "You gotta drink more water, baby."
Dennis doesn't think he's ever been so mortified. Or aware of the door, which is currently closed, but.
He watches his cock empty, feels Robby press down on his belly, and. God. It feels good. It's such a fucking relief. He won't admit it, but Robby was right. He needed this. He should have done it sooner.
He can also feel Robby behind him, pressed flush, and - he thinks, maybe, hard.
"You're fucked," he mutters. He's done, and mostly soft. Mostly. "Lemme go."
Robby lets him go, reluctant, and he shakes himself dry before stuffing himself back in his boxers.
"Good boy," Robby hums, kissing him on top of the head. Like a proud fucking father.
Dennis glares at him, and makes for the door to return to the department.
"You," he says quietly. "Are never doing that again."
"Don't make me have to," Robby shoots back, calm.
It doesn't happen again, not for weeks. Dennis makes sure to take his breaks, and makes sure Robby knows about them. He's not risking a repeat of that.
The memory of it stays with him, burned into his mind.
Look, they're married. He's been married to Robby and Jack for coming on a year and a half now. He's seen them piss. They've seen him piss. It's not like they're brand new, skirting around one another.
It's just not - it's never been like that.
A power play. Deliberate. He's never had either one of them that up close and personal with it.
And fuck, it's never turned him on.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
It's not like they have vanilla sex. Far from it. He's done all kinds of weird shit with them, and he loves it. He loves being tied up by Jack's wide range of military knots. He loves fucking Robby until he cries, forcing that release, and kissing away the tears. He loves when Jack takes him over his lap.
But piss?
No.
He's not that depraved. He's not a golden showers porn guy. He's not that guy.
Still, he can't quite stop thinking about how good it felt to have Robby … force it from him. Be so vulnerable, and - and filthy. Helpless against what Robby wanted from him.
So no, he doesn't let it happen again. He's too worried that he'll fall into something he can't climb out of again.
It doesn't happen again, with Robby.
He slips up, and he forgets that Jack watches him too. Less, to be sure. He's much less micromanaging, less over his shoulder. Mostly trusts Dennis to sort himself out, be an adult about shit.
He's halfway through a night shift, however, pulling a rare double to cover, because Jack was desperate. It's been busy. Real busy. Triage has been backed up for hours, patients are irascible and needy. His needs are - back on the backburner.
"Bathroom, sweetheart," Jack murmurs into his ear as he passes by swiftly, carrying 4x4s and dragging the portable chest behind him. They're low on nurses, too.
He means to go, he does.
It's just that - well, a patient in a gurney who's boarding in the hallway needs a sandwich, and then Ellis needs help reducing a shoulder, and then he has to call up to Radiology and get on their ass about films not getting down there in time, and.
Well. An hour passes.
"You're still clenching," Jack tells him, grabbing his arm in the hall. He is, and he's aware this time. He has to piss, but he has shit to do.
"M'fine, I got it, I'll go in a sec," he mutters, and tries to pull out of Jack's grip.
The second he's held in place, his movement meeting resistance, he feels his stomach sink.
Oh, no.
"Now," Jack orders. This is the difference between Jack and Robby. Robby took him by the shoulders and forced him. Jack will simply tell him, and the consequences of not doing so are clear enough that Dennis usually doesn't bother disobeying.
He hesitates.
"... Okay," he sighs, and Jack lets him go.
Thank fuck.
He ducks into the nearest bathroom, blessedly empty. Until the door swings open, and Jack enters.
"Oh, come on, you don't need to - "
Jack cuts him off, dropping to his knees and pulling Dennis' scrubs and boxers down to his knees in one quick movement.
He gasps, eyes flitting to the door. Jack has locked it behind them.
"Jack," he hisses, cheeks flaming red. "I thought you meant for me to piss, not get a blowjob."
They don't fuck on the clock as much as they used to, but, well, it still happens.
"I did mean for you to come in here and piss," Jack corrects him, wrapping a hand around the base of Dennis' cock. "C'mon."
He opens his mouth.
Dennis gapes at him.
"You're - fucking with me."
Jack rolls his eyes, and leans forward. Wraps his mouth around Dennis' cock, and sucks.
It's not the kind of sucking Jack employs for a blowjob. No, when he's trying to make Dennis cum, he'll take his time. Lick and suckle and kiss, play with him a little. Draw it out.
This, is not that. This is sucking. Trying to - to suck him dry.
"Fucking hell!" he gasps, and god, it doesn't matter what kind of touch this is, it's hot, it's so fucking hot, and he wasn't ready for it. His knees wobble, and Jack holds him steady. His cheeks are hollowed.
"I'm not - Jack, I'm not gonna - "
Piss down your throat, is what he was trying to say, but. He's started, and he couldn't help it, and there's no stopping once he's started, he knows that.
Oh, he's so fucked. He's going to hell. Jack is - going to hate him, was clearly just playing some kind of insane game, and he's lost, because he actually did it.
But Jack's not pulling back in disgust. He's not pulling away at all. He's swallowing. Dennis watches, transfixed, as Jack's throat moves, sucking and sucking him until there's nothing left, swallowing everything he had.
He might pass out. He feels vaguely light-headed.
Jack pulls off his cock, and it twitches. He's not even wet, not with anything but the dampness of Jack's mouth.
"Better?" Jack asks him, still on his knees. He's looking up, grinning.
Dennis is speechless. Genuinely, truly speechless.
"Oh, come on, kid, it's not that bad," Jack says, sighing and easing himself off his knees. He's wincing, and Dennis knows how uncomfortable it can be to kneel on the prosthetic. That Jack doesn't tend to do it, because he suffers for it afterward.
But he's kneeled on the not super clean floor of the men's bathroom, to -
Fuck.
He reaches out, muscle memory, to help Jack up. Grabs his hand and gently lifts him back to two feet.
He'll moisturise Jack's stump for him tonight. Massage out the pain.
But for now, he's stuck in whatwhatwhatwhat.
"You - I - "
Jack puts him away. Pulls his scrubs and boxers back up, reties the cord. He's so shocked he can't even do that himself.
"You think I've never done that, really, kid? I'm fifty-four," Jack tells him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"I'm pretty sure that's not normal," Dennis squeaks.
He hasn't been a blushing virgin type like this in years. Certainly not with Jack and Robby. He likes sex, and he's had a lot of it, and a lot of different kinds. When he met the two older men, he was plenty experienced.
Not with pissing down someone's throat, though.
"Worked though, didn't it?" Jack smirks. He pops a mint in his mouth, pulled from his pocket, and - God, was he planning this?
"Jack, wasn't that - disgusting?" he asks weakly.
They should be back on the floor by now, but he couldn't possibly go out and work.
"Nah," Jack brushes off. "No real difference between that and cum, and I've swallowed a hell of a lot of your cum."
It doesn't feel the same to Dennis.
But he does, undeniably, feel better. Lighter.
Turned on.
"Do not tell Robby about this," he demands, splashing his face with water. He has to get his head back in the game.
Jack pouts.
"But it was his idea," he grumbles.
Dennis turns, and stares.
"What do you mean, it was his idea?"
"I mean, he told me about your last little problem," Jack says, and the pout is replaced by that same smirk again. "And how he solved it. How you … seemed receptive."
Damn it. So he hasn't hidden that as well as he thought he had.
"I am not into this," he hisses, vehement. He's convincing Jack. He's definitely convincing Jack. Definitely not trying to convince himself.
"Okay, baby," Jack says, patting him on the back and unlocking the bathroom door. There's no-one queuing, so that's something.
They don't talk about it.
Dennis has never been so invested in his own renal health before. He takes bathroom breaks, and he takes them religiously. He doesn't give either of his husbands the chance to manhandle him into it again.
Or to squeeze him dry.
No, he's putting that firmly at the back of his mind.
Is he curious about Jack's casual assertion that he's done that before? That it's no big deal to him?
Of course he fucking is.
Does he want to know exactly who, what, when, where and why? Does he tingle thinking about what the fuck exploits Jack might have got up to, to make him so blasè about something Dennis finds, to be honest, insane?
Of course he fucking does.
But talking about it would mean opening up the can of worms. Letting in the opportunity for Robby and Jack to interrogate him about it.
And he's not especially keen on that idea.
So he says nothing, and he makes damn sure that he pisses every few hours.
It occurs to him that this might have been their goal the entire time. To train him into better habits. Well, it's worked.
Except.
Sometimes, at home, one of them will linger in the bathroom. He'll be in the shower, and Robby will pointedly take his time relieving himself in the morning. Jack will hover in the doorway while he waits for Dennis to be done so they can go out.
He's tempted to insist they move into a place with a separate toilet.
When he feels the urge beginning to grow, the insistent pressure in his belly and his cock, he thinks - don't get hard. This isn't getting hard. This is needing to piss. It's different.
The wires are getting crossed in his head.
They've been out, for what Dennis still calls date night. It makes him happy and it makes the other two squirm, and that makes him happy too. His parents have date night every week, and will until they die. He likes knowing that his marriage is just as happy as theirs.
It's been a nice night. Jack insisted on dragging them to a new sports bar that's opened to watch the Penguins game, and while Dennis isn't especially interested in hockey, he's picked up enough from Robby and Jack to be able to keep up.
"Let's make this interesting," Robby says, watching the screen. "Drink, every time there's a score."
Dennis scoffs.
"Really, old man? We're playing drinking games? Are you in a frat now?" he teases.
Robby shoves him gently, and hands him his bottle of beer from where it sits in front of him on the table.
"Just trying to keep up with you, jailbait," he grins, and on the screen - score.
The two older men pick up their drinks, and take a large gulp. Grumbling, Dennis follows suit. He's not going to be outdrank by his husbands twice his age.
By the time the game's over, he's drained three bottles of beer. He's a little tipsy, and when he wobbles off his stool to go to the bathroom, Jack catches him and steadies him.
"Whoa, okay," he laughs. "I think it's time to get you home to bed."
And from the way he says bed, Dennis isn't about to disagree.
Within an hour, Robby's bouncing him on his cock. He's so fucking full. He's already had Jack cum inside him and eat it back out, and now he's stuffed again. He's so fucking overwhelmed and it's delicious and it's everything he craves.
"That's it, baby," Robby's purring, thrusting up with his hips hard. No matter how long they go, Robby never seems to run out of energy for this. For him. In the rare instances he does, he'll just pass Dennis over to Jack and tap out.
"Fuck, I'm - fuck, close," he pants, arms looped around Robby's neck and moaning with every bounce bounce bounce. "I'm gonna - I'm - "
"Go ahead, sweetheart," Jack tells him, snaking a hand between him and Robby and stroking his cock where it juts, hard and throbbing, against his belly. "Let go."
It's so much. It doesn't usually feel like this. It's like he's going to fucking explode. They haven't even edged him tonight. There's been no teasing. So why is he so sensitive, so full of delicious pressure.
Jack and Robby share a long look over his head. He catches it.
"What?' he pants, and Robby thrusts up harder.
"Nothing, baby," Jack tells him, jerking his cock slowly. "Just wanna make you feel good. Wanna make you lose control."
There's something off about this. They're playing with him, somehow. He just doesn't know how, or why, and he's too full of pleasure to think too hard about it.
"I - fuck - just - fuck, it's so - oh," he chokes out, and understanding washes over him. This feeling isn't just an orgasm feeling. This is need. He knows exactly what will happen if he cums right now.
"Wait, wait, no, I gotta - Robby, stop, I'm gonna fucking piss myself if you don't fucking - "
He's growing more and more desperate by the second, with every hard thrust up into him. Why isn't Robby listening to him? Why won't he stop?
"It's okay," Robby murmurs, low and filthy. His cheeks are red. He looks hungry. "We know."
It's almost enough to stop the wave that's building, but, not quite.
"Whaddya mean, you know?" he cries, and does his best to ease off Robby's cock. Jack holds him down and swipes his thumb over Dennis' slit.
"Don't, I'll - guys, I'm not fucking kidding, it'll be bad," he whines.
"What makes you think we didn't know this all night?" Jack asks him. When Dennis meets his eyes, they're dark.
Oh.
Oh. They've been playing him.
They kept bringing him beer, and then a glass of water between, because, he's in his thirties now, and he doesn't want the hangover, does he.
They did this on purpose.
"You fuckers," he spits, and both men laugh.
"Yeah," Robby agrees. There's sweat at his temples, on his forehead. He's doing his best to last, Dennis can tell.
"I don't - I can't, don't make me," he begs, when the reality of - I'm really going to fucking piss myself sets in. "Please, come on."
It's not the first time they've done this to him. Not this, specifically. But pushing him much further than he was ever comfortable. Ignoring his pleas for mercy. Afterwards, every time, he's asked for it again.
He doesn't know about this time.
"Baby, it's not going to be bad," Jack says, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Don't you wanna let go for me, hm? Don't you want your Daddies to control this? You?"
And the thing is.
The thing is.
He does.
He fucking loves handing over his control, and he loves having it taken from him. He loves every aspect of them knowing him this well, knowing when to push and how to push to make him fall apart.
He whimpers, and holds onto Robby for dear life, because the wave is cresting and -
"Oh, oh, oh, fuck, I, fuck, fuck fuck fuck."
He's cumming, hard, and fuck, it doesn't feel like anything he's felt before. It feels like more. He paints Jack's hand, his own belly, Robby's. And then.
More.
He knew it would be coming. He knew it. He could feel it. That's been the whole point of this.
He can feel it, warm and wet and spreading between them. He can feel himself sob, dry, horrified. He can feel Jack stroking him through it. He can feel Robby moaning and moaning and then he's spilling inside Dennis.
"Oh, fuck, baby," the older man groans, hips stuttering as he rides it out. "God, you're so good for us. Such a good boy."
He's trembling. He can't get his breath back.
"Told you it would feel good to let go," Jack purrs, and yeah, it did, it felt so fucking good.
And now he feels so fucking dirty.
"Why'd you do that?" he whimpers. "I'm fucking gross now."
Robby laughs under his breath.
"You're fine, kiddo," he breathes. "You need a shower, sure, but, God, it feels good knowing I can milk you anytime I want."
And okay. His cock gives a valiant effort at getting hard again.
"C'mere," Jack says, and lifts Dennis into his arms. It never ceases to amaze Dennis that the man can balance a crutch and his weight. Jack insists this is why they go to the gym.
They're both wet. With him.
Jack sets him down and turns the shower on. As soon as it's warm enough, Dennis steps right under the spray, desperate to be clean.
They both join him, and the evidence of his letting go, of their power over him, washes down the drain.
"You okay, Den?" Robby asks gently, rubbing soapy circles across his belly.
"I - yeah," he answers, quiet. "I don't. I shouldn't have - "
"What? Did exactly what we told you to do? Been a perfect boy?" Jack cuts in. "Or enjoyed it?"
He's quiet for a long moment.
"It's gross," he whines. "It's yuck. I don't understand how you make it feel - so fucking hot."
They both laugh. He flicks water into their faces, scowling.
"Sorry, sorry," Robby says, still laughing. "It's hot because it's … I don't know, fun to make you lose control. And you know you like losing control."
"Also doesn't have to mean anything more than it gets your dick hard," Jack adds. "Don't psychoanalyse our sex life."
"You're the one drinking my piss," Dennis mutters, and Robby looks at Jack, astonished.
"You did what?"
Jack goes just the faintest touch pink.
"Kid told me not to tell you. I - oh, come on, I wanted to see if he was into it, like you said. He was."
"Oh, you're definitely supposed to tell me when you do something like that," Robby says, outraged.
"How about we tell me when you're going to do something like that?" Dennis pipes up.
"No," they say in unison.
He gets out of the shower without a word and leaves them both under the spray.
That night, he buys a waterproof mattress protector. Just in case.
thinking about huckleabbot sugar baby dennis au where at the tail end of COVID, jack wanted some guaranteed safe fun. it seemed easier to ask for vaccine cards, masking, regular testing, and limited social interaction within an arrangement.
dennis was at the tail end of his undergraduate, taking a bunch of pre-requisites for medical school still. he was broke, overwhelmed, and desperate for some in person guidance.
it was a match made in heaven. or hell. or wherever they belonged. it’s was mutually beneficial at the least.
so dennis would come over after they both tested negative, they would get take out, jack would tutor dennis, and it would always somehow devolve into fucking.
dennis was on jack’s lap with his old ass laptop on his thighs. his professor’s video lecture on the vascular system was incredibly vague. or maybe dennis just couldn’t internalize anything tonight. it could be that.
or it could be that he was sitting in jack’s fucking lap, and dennis could never think straight when jack was touching him. he couldn’t believe he got paid for this.
jack noticed how lost dennis was. he started to help dennis fill out the stupid quiz he had to do after the lecture was wrapped up.
it was asking him to match the major arteries to their locations on the body. jack skimmed the rough pads of his fingers up dennis’s neck, a ghost of a touch that made them both shiver. “this here is the carotid,” jack whispered. dennis dragged the answer shakily to it’s place. jack palmed the inside of dennis’s thigh. “and this is...”
dennis tried to fill in the blank jack had left for him, but he couldn’t fucking think. “i-um-it’s-shit!” dennis gasped when jack moved up just a little higher, squeezing him lightly through his shorts.
jack’s voice had a teasing lilt, “come on, you know this. be a good boy.”
dennis breathed deep, steadying himself, “the-the femoral.”
“there’s my good boy!” jack praised. dennis submitted his quiz, facing lighting up when he got a 100%. jack huskily laughed. “my straight A student.”
dennis dropped his laptop on the floor in his haste to turn around and straddle jack. it was fine. jack would get him a new one.
Huckleabbot but it’s Jack just paying for way too much shit. He lives alone, his house is paid off, he makes a tenured attendings salary and still gets disability checks. He has loads of money, a full 401k, and nothing to do with it.
Frequently, Dennis finds random $20 bills in his locker.
When people go out to drink, Abbot always pays for a few people’s tabs—including Dennis’.
Jack texts Dennis, asks him if he’s hungry, and Dennis mysteriously receives a DoorDash order of whatever he’d mentioned to Jack.
Dennis complains about his work shoes losing their tread, and receives a brand new pair in the mail a few weeks later.
Dennis keeps receiving anonymous Venmo payments of $250 every two weeks.
And like, he knows it’s Jack. It’s obvious it’s Jack. But he has no idea how to bring it up.
When he gets another Venmo—only one week after the previous one, and Dennis had been griping about needing new scrubs—and it’s $500, so he texts Jack.
“Jack, I don’t really know how to say this, but I appreciate what you do for me and stuff, but you really don’t have to do it. Like with the money.”
Jack texts back a few minutes later.
“Don’t worry about it. I want to.”
Dennis receives another $500 via Venmo a few minutes later. He sighs, blushes.
“Thank you.”
“Of course, kid”
And unbeknownst to Dennis, Jack’s laying at home, his hand creeping beneath the waistline of his boxers.
Dennis cocks his head to the side, propped up in one arm, ready to get some shut-eye and enjoy the weekend. “You don’t wanna try being the little spoon?”
Jack hesitated. “Is it the leg? You don’t want it touching you in bed?”
Dennis cocks his head the other way. “No? Love, I couldn’t care less about where you put your leg.” Dennis reaches out and takes Jack’s hand. “I’m fine with being the little spoon, or the big spoon, whatever you want. We don't even have to cuddle if you feel uncomfortable.”
Jack seems to hesitate even more, his face impassive, but Dennis has been dating him long enough to discern his microexpression and tell that he was nervous and unsure.
"Seriously, I'm fine with being the little spoon-"
"It's fine." Jack cuts in. "I trust you."
Dennis couldn't help the blinding smile from stretching across his face as Jack slowly lay down. Dennis immediately latched onto his back, burying his face against Jack's neck and kind of cradling him.
For a moment, Jack remained tense, then he slowly relaxed, taking one of Dennis's hands and interlocking their fingers. It didn't take long for the two of them to fall asleep.
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