popewhit. ftm dennis. cnc smut. mentions of non-con.
pope loves to work out at night. always has. that’s just when his body is awake. but in pittsburgh there is no backyard with a gym for him to lift in. he’s in a studio apartment with a balcony. and that balcony is hardly large enough for a fucking deck chair.
he tries not to wander at night. knows it scares people. because, well, he knows what he looks like. like an ex-con off his meds. but he’s on his meds. he is!
he tries working out at a park late at night. but there are teenagers trying to smoke rank weed there. and all he can do is calisthenics without a real gym.
so pope starts thinking. he’s trying to not to register with his name, so he drives to a few gyms, looks around, goes in to a few during the day. most want a name and an address.
“hey, what’s up man?” it’s a dopey looking high schooler. zits. fuck-ass justin bieber bowl cut. what year was this kid living in? “you look young today,” the kid said, grinning.
pope wants to laugh. the kid is out of his mind stoned.
“you usually come in at night though, huh?”
“ah. i, um, i lost my key fob,” pope says. “could you get me a new one?”
“no problem, man. jack, right?”
pope nods. jack? who the fuck does this kid think he is?
well. it’s good for him. the key fob is small and red. with a lanyard.
he starts going to the gym at night, eyes on the lookout for a man who must look like him. pope always goes around 11pm, midnight, one. he’s usually gone by two. the meds he’s on actually ask his body to sleep around three am and he tries to oblige it. he has a job that starts in the afternoon, afterall. mid shift mechanic. decent money.
he’s established a good routine of night workouts when he first discovers the young man sleeping in the staff room at the back of the gym. the kid is young, mousey and blond haired. but he’s put together enough. pope wonders why he’s risking getting caught until he realizes the kid needs the access to the locker and the shower. he hangs around till the early morning one night and sees that the kid’s whole life is in that locker.
pope is sitting behind the kid on a bench. he’s only got a towel around his waist. he had figured it would make him none threatening to be in flip flops with only one free hand (lest he reveal his nudity). he’s sitting far enough away so as not to scare the kid shitless, but the kid still jumps when he asks, “man. what do you do for work?”
“me! oh. uh. i’m a med student.”
pope tilts his head, considering. “you need cash?”
the man’s face goes still. he’s not… trapped looking, just sober. “i’m okay.”
“you don’t want an easy job?”
the kid huffs a laugh. “most easy jobs are anything but easy.”
pope has to smile at that. “you’re smart.” he tilts his head back upright. “which makes me think you’d be good at it.”
“ha. no. i’m smart enough to say no because i’m stupid enough to get caught. plus. i’m houseless. obviously. so. consequences would be worse... why?” the man bows his head. “why did i tell you that?”
pope grins fully. the kid is flustered. it’s cute. pope stands up. he says. “i won’t tell anyone. and if you need cash you can ask me. i won’t expect anything in return, ‘kay? i know what it’s like to be down.”
the young man nods. “yeah.”
pope folds his towel neatly over the open door of his locker and gets dressed.
he doesn’t expect the question, but as he’s pulling his pants up, staring at his own locker, the man asks, “what’s your name?”
“okay. have you been watching me?”
pope turns to face him. “you’re lucky it was me and not some psycho,” he says, belting his pants. he lowers his head to catch dennis’s eye– “who noticed you.” he can see the nervousness all over the man, though he’s hiding it well enough. pope relaxes his body, lifts his hands. he doesn’t want dennis to leave. he likes being able to keep an eye on the young man. he feels… well. he’s always been protective of those innocent lambs. “look. don’t worry about changing your location. if this works for you, keep at it. i’m not gonna fuck up a doctor’s life.”
dennis’s brow furrows. “why does it matter if i’m a doctor?”
pope shrugs. the fluorescent lights buzz, the locker room echoes dully. finally pope says, “not that i like’m—no offense—but i’ve been in enough situations where i needed like a real doctor and had a fuckin guy, with a propane torch and some bandaids, that i can appreciate real doctors.” he motions to dennis, staring at his white-shirt midsection so he doesn’t have to look in his eyes. “you seem like you really want to be a doctor, the way you’re living for it, so–” pope shrugs– “that’s your shit. i’m not gonna fuck it up.” it’s more words than he’s said since california, but the guy seems… relaxed now. so? good. it makes pope happy.
a beat. he knows the kids name now. “cool.”
they stare at each other for a minute. the lights buzz. they’re suddenly both aware of the way they both are naked to the other. one wearing only jeans and the other illegally sheltering in a semi-public gym.
pope nods minutely. “bye.”
“yeah! bye,” dennis says.
awkward. cute. pope smiles as he walks out.
it burns. pope looks down at his side, at the raw edge of his skin and the gravel stuck to it. the other guy is very dead. and very likely his body will never be found. and very likely pope will die and his body will be found because he’s hardly able to focus on the road as he drives to the gym.
his key fob is bloody in his hands when he beeps in. i’ll have to bleach this whole place, he thinks.
well. there’s dennis, snoozing on the couch in the employee room. they’d talked twice more. mostly pleasantries. and pope had dropped fifty dollars in his locker one night.
he tries not to touch the door frame as he falls to his knees. “dennis.”
“dennis. please, dennis. hey!”
dennis jerks up, eyes wide. pope watches as the young man’s eyes focus on him. pope sees the moment the healer inside dennis takes over.
pope is only vaguely aware of dennis flushing his side with saline from a contact bottle and then super glueing the laceration shut. a white bandage and white gauze over the top.
dennis gets him into pope’s truck, passenger side. then dennis leaves him there. he left me? pope blearily sees him wiping things down. oh. the blood. my blood.
then dennis has a bag in hand and is climbing into the driver’s seat. “where do you live, pope?”
pope slurs out the address.
pope is half-carried inside, is gently lowered onto his bed. he sees dennis turn to leave, sees dennis hang up his truck keys.
“my fault you’re out of sleep. stay. easier for you.” pope takes an unsteady breath. “safer for me. thank you.”
dennis is still facing the door when he says. “your place doesn’t have anything on the walls.”
dennis asks, “do you really live here?”
pope let’s out a sigh that hurts his side. “come get in bed.”
and miraculously the young man does.
he lays facing pope, blues eyes wide in the dark. it puts pope right under.
the days drift. pope calls out sick. dennis uses pope’s cash to buy them groceries and pope cooks, painstakingly slowly, while dennis is on shift. and cleans. and buys a painting to hang over the small kitchen table.
they eat together. pope is curious but keeps his mouth shut. dennis makes him take otc pain meds. they find they get along. dennis grew up rough. pope grew up mean. dennis laughs at his crazier stories, and pope can appreciate the absolute “fuck shit” that was growing up religious in the middle of nowhere.
long after the wound in pope’s side is healed, dennis is still there, usually sleeping soundly when pope gets back from the gym at one am. he’s not there every night, but plenty enough that pope slides a copy of his key into his wallet.
dennis never sleeps naked. and always under the covers. pope once teases him about his pious ways. dennis waves it off. they get a steady routine for about a month. but pope can sense the young man still doesn’t trust him. it makes him mad. sad. hurt. he wants to ask things. like, why don’t you trust me? is it because i came to you? bloody and broken? are you not a physician? am i not a soul that can be saved?
one night over dinner dennis says, “hey. someone offered me their spare room.”
pope says nothing. he wants dennis to stay. stay, he thinks.
“but i’ll see you around. i’m excited to have my own space. and i’m sorry if i was an imposition. you’ve been the best roommate i’ve ever had.”
after dennis leaves pope just can’t seem to stop himself. he knows dennis’s sleep schedule. and he knows where he works. it’s easy to figure out where he lives.
the girl’s name is trinity santos. she’s snarky but kind. he learns this by lurking on their fire escape, listening through their living room window. and he gets her full name and driver information by breaking into her car. easy peasy. he follows dennis to work sometimes. follows him everywhere, when he can. the obsession grows to jerking off to the thought of the man. he shuts that down by stalking dennis whenever he gets the urge to touch himself.
it’s no surprise that when dennis and trinity get approached by a man who tries to grope them behind a shitty bar that pope is there. the guy’s throat buckles under his hand and trinity and dennis have to do something to get it unstuck. the man crawls away until he’s recovered enough to stumble, then run.
trinity is gushing, thanking him. her adrenaline rush is putting her in a weirdly generous mood.
but dennis is just looking at him.
pope nods awkwardly to trinity and leaves. or… doesn’t quite leave. he circles back. waits. watches them go back into the bar. he tries not to touch himself but the look on dennis’s face… so blank. such big eyes. he cums in his hand for the first time in weeks, picturing dennis just looking at him. he’s sure that this is it. he’ll get reported as a stalker. maybe face prison time. at least a restraining order.
but dennis doesn’d say anything to trinity. because she doesn’t change her routine at all over the course of the next week. but dennis does. he glances out windows more. when he leaves work he scans the parking lot, the tree line, the roof line.
pope’s head reels. it emboldens him. that dennis is looking but that he hasn’t told trinity. or anyone.
he breaks into their apartment, digs through dennis’s room. which is not something he would have done if dennis had still lived with him. no. he wants to know dennis better. he wants to know why dennis would move in with a stranger instead of trusting pope enough to stay. because in some way dennis obviously does trust him.
pope digs through dennis’s clean underwear drawer. finds a vibrator, a dildo, a small anal plug. condoms. lube. and best of all he finds lingerie, and bottles of testosterone. needles.
why is dennis on testosterone? then he finds something called estrodial vaginal inserts.
he googles that and… dennis must have a vagina. which means… dennis is a transman. all that time living together and pope never knew. is that why dennis wanted to move out? so he could simply… be naked? truly naked? literally and metaphorically? pope’s head spins. he had been fighting off thinking of dennis’s cock leaking over dennis’s belly as pope fucked him in the ass, but… but maybe…
what? maybe what? what does this change?
pope shakes himself and leaves.
pope gets a text from dennis a few days later.
if you wanted to hang out you could have just asked. don’t follow me around. it’s creepy. i’d rather get groped.
pope shakes his head. no you wouldn’t.
the text comes seconds later. pope.
bubbles. then, did you break into my house?
he can’t say yes over text. it’s particularly incriminating. i want to take care of you.
i don’t know. but is that true? pope does know. maybe. well. he just. he isn’t gay. he types another message as dennis’s text bubble bubbles away. i don’t understand what i’m feeling. i didn’t know. um. i don’t know how to act.
pope quickly adds, i’m sorry.
pope’s own admission shocks him. he’s not gay if dennis has a pussy, right?
but… but dennis is a man.
and… and hadn’t he been thinking about dennis long before he found out about the trans thing? hadn’t he been thrilled to see the lingerie before he found the testosterone? hadn’t he enjoyed making dennis blush in the locker room? hadn’t he cum in his hand like a teenager just from dennis’s divine blue eyes watching him so carefully?
pope sighs shakily through his nose. he is a fucking faggot for that damn blonde man. what the hell. he types out a, sorry if that’s weird. i’m sorry. i don’t know. one of my brother’s is gay. i’ve only ever liked women. i don’t really understand these feelings. sorry. forgive me.
god why can’t he stop texting the man. he turns his phone off and goes to work.
there’s a single text from dennis waiting on his phone.
pope sits down on a kitchen chair. he kneads his thighs. he’s tired. was nervous all day. almost dropped an impact wrench on his own damn foot worrying about dennis’s reaction. he opens the text.
break in. pin me down. fuck me.
pope blinks. screenshots it.
blinks again. reads it again.
my safe word is magnesium.
what if your roommate tries to kill me?
it’s an easy job. don’t be a pussy.
and that does something to pope. easy job. don’t be a pussy. when had he started acting like a pussy? he’s decked men in broad daylight. surely he can man up and fuck the man he fucking likes. he thinks about the warm wet pussy dennis will pretend to withhold from him and pope comes in his fist again within a minute.
pope doesn’t crawl in through the living room. he doesn’t pick the front door. he slithers in through dennis’s high narrow window and drops onto the bed when dennis goes to his adjoining bathroom.
pope waits as dennis pisses, flushes, washes his hands. he listens too to dennis’s breathing pick up, listens to the slicking sounds of fingers in a cunt.
pope waits. waits for dennis to get close to orgasm before he steps into the bathroom. he covers dennis’s pretty moaning mouth with a hand and yanks the smaller man into his chest before the scream of terror lashes against his palm.
“shh,” he says into dennis’s hair, holding the man very still. “if your roommate comes over here i’m gonna have to handle it.”
he feels dennis go limp, sees his eyes close in the mirror, feels dennis’s eyelashes on his hand… the eyelashes on his hand make him curl around dennis. he can feel himself hardening. dennis is very still and very quiet.
“spread your legs. keep fingering yourself,” pope commands, giddy as dennis’s arm flexes under pope’s grip. “keep at it until i’m inside you.”
the wet sounds return. and so does dennis’s panting.
pope leaves him there. let’s go. backs up. strips.
he’s never fake raped someone. he finds he’s enjoying it. he’s certain he would not if it was really rape. he would never rape dennis. the thought of actually hurting the man makes him go lightheaded with an emotion he can’t quite name. it’s rage and fear and a fist in his chest.
the fact that dennis stands there with his legs spread, fingering himself still, tells pope that dennis very much wants it. it’s reassuring.
pope grins. he just stands in the darkened bedroom, watches.
“keep fingering yourself.” eventually he adds, “back up.”
dennis shuffles back, awkwardly. his legs are still spread, his back muscles flexing as his arm works.
when he hits pope he squirms and the wet noise changes. as if… as if he just released more. squelchier. deeper. pope goes a little lightheaded again. mine.
pope grabs his curls and pulls the man’s head around, slides his cock in till it’s filling dennis’s cheek. the sucking noises are obscene.
pope pulls out. “quietly. suck me off quietly. how can i trust you to take me down your throat if you’re this noisy now?”
dennis whines. he has tears in the corners of his eyes already. pope slides back into dennis’s cheek and the man is clearly trying. it’s sloppy and so fucking hot. pope let’s dennis’s tongue wrap around his shaft, let’s dennis gorge himself loudly till it’s echoing around.
pope pulls out and throws the man’s head forward. drops to his own knees and holds dennis’s face against the carpet. he presses the head of his cock against dennis’s hole, against the two fingers still thrumming along. “don’t stop,” pope says as he pushes in.
dennis shakes his head as much as he can against the carpet. grimaces. his fingers necessarily still. pope is too large for him to move them.
“why’d you stop?” pope taunts.
pope spanks him. not too hard. it makes dennis clench down on him, hard at first and then slow and languidly, his pussy feeling out pope’s cock. “greedy pussy,” pope murmurs. “you like being raped, dennis? or does your pussy like it?”
dennis shakes his head against the carpet again. poor boy will have carpet burn on his cheek.
for a sec pope wonders if he’s gone too far. but dennis is still throbbing on him, so he continues. “say it, baby. tell me you like being raped. tell me you like it when i rape you.”
dennis sobs, shakes his head.
pope starts fucking him, which makes the man cry. pope pulls out. “okay. finger yourself then.”
a whimper. dennis’s fingers moving.
pope spanks him. “too slow.”
dennis sobs and fingers himself harder.
pope watches the strong pale fingers work. it’s not enough. he knows it. he rubs the head of his cock against everything: from dennis’s asshole to the back’s of his plunging knuckles. he pulls away fully and watches for a time before sliding back in.
dennis cries into the carpet. “please! please. i like it. i want you to rape me! pope please please please rape me.” he’s sobbing. he’s begging. he’s being loud.
pope spanks him. “too loud. tell me in your good hole voice.”
“please, rape me, pope. please.”
“my pussy. my hole. my hole will be good for you. i promise. please, pope.”
“call me andrew,” pope says as he slides back in. he reaches down and grabs dennis’s wrist. he pulls dennis’s fingers out and finally gives the man what he needs, thrusting.
honestly, pope isn’t prepared for how much he himself wants it. he holds dennis down as he fucks him, stuffs his free hand into dennis’s mouth till the man is gagging as he snaps his hips into the man. eventually he pulls his hand out of dennis’s mouth, but the man’s mouth hangs open on the floor, drool puddling with his tears.
rug burn, pope thinks. he tucks one hand under dennis’s hand and holds dennis’s head between his two hands as he fucks him into the floor, his back straining, his abs straining. dennis is just a puddle of liquids. sweat between them. drool. slick coating their legs.
pope stills. he wants more. he’s given enough. now he wants to take.
he pulls out, lifts dennis, carries him to dennis’s twin bed.
he arranges the glazed-eyed face to look at the ceiling, climbs between dennis’s legs and holds dennis carefully as he slides back in. he knows this isn’t what dennis asked for but he can’t help it. he wants to make dennis feel safe. he wants to feel safe with dennis. he wants to have dennis, yes, has wanted to break in without permission and make dennis feel good for months. he holds dennis carefully as he steadily fucks the man’s pussy. he’s sweating and panting and dennis is clinging to him. regular boring sex position. except dennis looks so high. pope loves it.
pope realizes he’s crying as he fucks into dennis. he loves dennis. he loves seeing him happy. he pushes himself up, grabs dennis’s ankles and holds dennis’s legs to his chest as begins to hammer into the man. “touch yourself,” pope commands, sniffing. “stroke your dick.” this is not the time to cry. he needs to give dennis everything he can: to prove this is an easy job, to convince dennis he can show up for every shift.
dennis strokes his own small cock. pope inhales, his nose pressed between dennis’s ankles as he enjoys the warm wet slide and clench of dennis’s perfect hole. he can tell dennis will be sore. he can feel the puffiness, the rawness. dennis’s heels smack pope’s forehead softly with each snap of his hips. pope sucks a mark onto dennis’s leg. need this, he thinks. then he commands, “clench on me.”
the command is answered with a delicious tightness. a throbbing. love. dennis’s hole loves him.
it makes the man cum. pope pauses. let’s dennis come down from it for a sec.
but soon enough the throbbing pulls him back in. soon he’s fucking dennis hard. he drops dennis’s legs and folds himself back over the smaller man, cradling his shoulders and head. into dennis’s ear he whispers. “you’re mine. you left me. you left me and i’m not letting you leave me again.” he can feel dennis’s hips wiggle at his words. “i love you.” the confession makes new tears well in pope’s eyes. “don’t leave me.”
his confession also makes dennis tighten, pull and suck and tighten on his dick and suddenly pope is out of air, cumming into dennis, his abs straining to go deeper, his legs pushing to get further inside, his arms crushing dennis to him. mine mine mine he’s my fucking hole he’s mine–
he feels the man cum around him, jerking weakly, pulsing. the most pathetic little sounds come out of dennis. “thank you,” dennis whispers.
pope kisses him. their mouths are sloppy together, even as pope’s body jerks again, he’s sobbing into dennis’s mouth as he cums a little more. spilling into dennis’s hole. again. and again.
“thank you,” dennis says again into pope’s mouth. he keeps saying it. and with every “thank you” pope feels his balls constrict, feels his body strain to give dennis a little more. my baby needs more.
pope’s chest is heaving. he realizes that so is dennis’s. the man is so warm. he sinks into dennis, his cock still buried as deep as it can go. pope can feel sleepiness coming over him. his eyes close. he relaxes. feels himself give dennis a last drop as he finally begins to soften inside the man. he can hear dennis’s frantic heartbeat slowing under his ear.
“i love you, too,” dennis murmurs. the words sound lower from within dennis’s chest.
pope flushes. presses his face down. “i meant it,” pope growls. “don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“i do mean it,” dennis says.
pope lifts his head. he feels dennis squeeze around him and he shudders. he swallows. “magnesium?” pope asks. “so you really love me? this isn’t like… a scene?”
“i really love you,” dennis affirms.
the noise that leaves pope’s throat is not manly at all. he buries his head in dennis’s neck and snuffles down, grinds into dennis. he loves me. how did i get this lucky?
“will you move back in with me?” pope asks.
dennis laughs. not cruelly. “no. let’s date normal style. and fuck nasty in private. i want to introduce you to people, not have them concerned for my safety because i live with a man i seemingly just met. besides, since i was homeless so long, i like having my own space.” dennis’s voice softens. “i like it.”
“i get it.” and pope does. “i’ll wait as long as you want.”
“and maybe we can get a fancy place when my doctor money starts to come in.”
pope smiles against dennis’s skin. “you could always do that easy job i mentioned…”
dennis rolls his eyes. “i am not stealing pain killers from the hospital, andrew.”
pope snorts, lifts his head. “i was thinking we could harvest organs.”
he feels dennis’s hand push his head back down, yet dennis’s hand is massaging his scalp. “go to bed, you fucking delinquent.”
pope harrumphs, but complies: happily. slowly, achingly, he lifts his hips and slides out. dennis whimpers as the head of pope’s cock thumps against dennis’s ass cheeks.
dennis asks, “will you take me again in the morning?”
“yes,” pope says. he kisses across dennis’s face. “shower first, though.”
dennis laughs. he pats andrew’s hand. “i know. remember? we lived together for months?”
pope spoons dennis, cradling him to his chest. pope kisses the back of his head, says, “i’ll make you coffee first thing. just like you like.” he senses dennis go warm at the promise. his sweet man. pope frowns. “next time i wanna make love.”
dennis threads their fingers together. “i’d like that. at your place. so i can scream.”
“how did she not hear us?” pope asks.
pope can hear the smile in dennis’s voice. “i slipped her a muscle relaxer at dinner.”
pope stills. “so, you totally would harvest organs, just not with me.”
dennis laughs softly. “i’m kidding. i told her i was having someone over and she should headphone up.”
pope laughs. then pauses. “wait. are you lying?”
dennis snuggles back into him, and his country accent is thicker as he says, “i’m pure as the driven snow.”
pope is left blinking at the back of dennis’s head. the whole thing makes his cock twitch against dennis’s ass. he’s ashamed to say the idea of dennis being a little evil turns him on. would dennis rape him? oh. oh. he tucks his face into the back of dennis’s neck. oh. if he thought he was in love before, now he positively has a crush. dennis isn’t leaving his sight.
