There are days where Jack and Robby just want them all to have a good time, but they've brought Dennis along so what they actually get is
"Are you having a good time?"
"Are you having fun? I feel like we're having fun but I just wanna check."
"Sorry, was that weird? I meant for it to be funny but I think it came off weirdly hostile?"
"Do you want to do something else? I mean, I don't wanna do something else but I feel like we've been doing this for a long time and I know I was the one who wanted to do it and I don't wanna monopolise the whole day so like... I'm totally down for doing something else if you wanna do something else."
"Did I ruin the day? I know I kinda get all overthinky and I know that's pretty annoying - and I'm not saying you made me feel like I ruined the day! You totally didn't! But I'm just worried I kinda put a downer on the whole thing, you know?"
And honestly, the first time this happened it was...a lot for both Jack and Robby, but it was more about them not being prepared for it. It just wasn't something they'd entered into their mental file for Dennis, so they had to debrief about it at the end of the day and admit that maybe they hadn't been too hot at dealing with it in the moment.
Now? The file's updated, and you better believe they have Methods.
"Take a breath. Look at me. No, look at me properly. Now look at Jack. Good. I know that you know us well enough to tell when we're having a good time, so I don't think you need me to answer that question."
"Asked and answered, sweetheart. You wanna go get something sweet and sticky that's gonna make Robby make that face?"
"So, I know you're having a tough time of it right now, and I know that's hard. But I think this might be the obsessive thoughts talking, yeah?"
"I'm listening, bud. You know we've always got your back. But right now, you don't need to hear us tell you that it's okay, because you already know that. Hey, no, listen to me - listen. I know you feel like it's going to shit, but I also know that you know what your obsessive thoughts sound like. They don't sound like you, Denny, you know that. So we're gonna sit here and let them quiet down a little bit, okay? We're here and we're not leaving, but we're not gonna feed 'em, cause that's what they want, and they're only gonna get more hungry if we do that."
everyone assumes that when robby and jack talk about the club, they mean a country club. it’s just what makes the most sense! of course the two attendings belong to an upper crust, high society organization.
they talk about how they relaxed there over the weekend, how robby got over served and is still suffering the consequences, how enlightening the conversation is. there’s always a fundraiser or a mixer or a performance they’re going to. it seems that their social lives revolve around that place.
everyone envisions them in summery business casual eating at the club house, maybe golfing with the other department heads, basking by the pool. it becomes a sort of aspirational thing for the people that work under them. many residents dream of getting an attending gig, paying off their loans, and getting their membership.
jack and robby are not members of a country club. they’re regulars of an exclusive, invitation only BDSM club.
and dennis finds this out when his latest (much older) situationship takes him as a guest.
Dennis who hates being on top. Not just fucking someone but he hates riding, riding cock, riding face. Basically anything that doesn't involve him just lying there and taking it. Maybe he's lazy or spoiled but he just gets so tired. His legs start to ache and cramp.
Usually this isn't an issue, Jack and Robby love using the boy. But it does make a great punishment for him. The men love watching the boy whine as he bounces on Robby's dick. Moaning, whining and begging for the attending to just flip him over and fuck him. "Aww puppy don't you want to make it up to us?" Jack coos mockingly. Stroking his cock as tear drip down Dennis's face. Watching as the man goes up and down on his husband. Watching the clench around cock, the soft o shape of the boys mouth.
pope cody who is a humper. big bad scary guard dog filled with energy who just collapses into dennis whenever he sees him.
dennis gets in from work, heads into the kitchen before even taking his shoes off. pope is in there waiting for him. pope stalks over and just collapses into dennis back hugging him tight. before he even knows what he’s doing his hips start their tiny thrusting motions into the fabric of dennis’s jumper he still had on over his scrubs, dennis just strokes the hair on the back of his neck and pulls him closer muttering, “cmon puppy, you can do it, just let go for me…. thereeee he is,” encouraging pope along. dennis would never admit it out loud but pope’s quiet devotion in these moments gets him going like nothing else. his man, a puddle in his arms, using him for his own pleasure but still holding him so gently and full of love. dennis feels his stomach swirl with the want. “my beautiful boy, you just missed me so much isn’t that right? couldn’t wait for me to get back, just too needy puppy,”
they continue like this pope rutting into any part of dennis he can reach both fully clothed before he climbs over the peak of pleasure and cums with a whimper into the back of dennis’s neck.
“oh baby, that’s better right? got some of that energy out, shall we go lie down in bed?”
pope just nods, tiredness and submission clouding those big beautiful eyes.
Jack goes back to find Dennis the next day, and he only feels minor guilt at doing it while Robby's sleeping in.
He left a note, and he doesn't think Robby is particularly in the headspace to go back down to the floors hosting the showrooms. It had taken Jack two hours of soothing as the man railed about how wrong and filthy the whole hybrid trade was, before Robby would even consider going to bed.
Jack also knew the guilt that plagued him, because he felt the same snagging, loose thread in his own chest when he thought about the cheerful wag of Dennis' tail slowing and the happy light in his eyes dimming as they walked away from him with no warning and what must have been a horrible demeanour. Poor kid probably thinks he did something wrong.
He could see the desire to fix, to placate and soothe in Robby's eyes. But he knew the man all too well, and he could read in the set of his jaw and the furrow to his brow that voluntarily submerging himself in the noise and smell and swirling chaos of the showroom wouldn't end the way that Robby would want it to.
So he took it upon himself to weave through the relative quiet of the early-morning start-up buzz, until he found his way back to the booths where his eyes had originally caught on Dennis.
For some reason, he was surprised to find the kid there. There was a lurching feeling behind his ribs, like hope suddenly slamming into the place where disappointment had been presumptuously residing. He was so sure that yesterday had been an opportunity passing them by in real time.
"Oh my - you're back! Hi!"
Christ, the absolute uncomplicated delight in the kid's voice momentarily robbed Jack of his own. All he could do was give Dennis his best smile as he approached, taking the time to try to gather himself and find his voice and the words he hadn't bothered to think about.
"Hey, buddy. Yeah, I'm back - was kinda hoping I'd find you again. Was worried you might be done with the circuit by now."
Dennis beamed at him, the force of his tail wags making his whole lower body wiggle. Jack felt his lips twitch in a kind of helpless, happy sympathy.
"Oh, no - this sort of thing usually lasts a few weeks."
Jack obviously did a poor job at hiding his surprise because Dennis giggled.
"I mean, there are competitions and all, and that's fun, but it's not really why most of them come here." At Jack's blank, wary look, Dennis cocked his head and smiled, leaning in a little, and this time there was something about the tilt of his lips that was different. Like looking at a flower whose edges were just starting to brown and wilt.
"It's a time where almost all of the high-profile owners and breeders are together in one place, with their - with us. They trade, they buy and sell. They, um - well, you know."
Jack did not know, and for a moment all he could do was try to look encouraging and open while Dennis' face flushed.
The words from Dennis' handler yesterday pierced through his skull, echoing as clearly as if the man was shouting it into his ear, some kind of vulgar, shrieking ghost at the feast.
"Denny's fit for breeding and his owner is considering offers."
The effort to control the twist of his face - to match the one in his stomach - was like stifling a sneeze on the highway. He wanted nothing more than to react with the full force of his body's horror, to purge the concept like bad food sitting, rotting in his stomach.
Instead, he forced himself to draw his training around himself like a shield, like a set of well-worn scrubs, as he gentled his voice and set his face into something as mild and soft as his racing pulse could manage.
"Of course. I'm sorry, Dennis, I should have remembered. We don't have to talk about that if you don't want to."
Dennis smiled, but it looked like he was dredging it up from somewhere sticky and cloying.
"Or - or if you have any questions." Jack was blurting out before he could even think about it, the impulse so fresh that the other half of his brain barely has time to hope he's not fucking this up or scaring Dennis. "I'm a doctor. Emergency medicine - I'm not a hybrid specialist, but I could still help...make things a little less confusing. If you haven't - I mean, if nobody has explained this to you before."
Christ, he really should have brought Robby with him.
"I've never been covered, if that's what you mean." Dennis is cocking his head up at Jack, so openly enquiring - even with a little bit of a giggle playing at his words at Jack's bashfulness - that his heart aches a little. "I've been away from all that until now. My owner kind of - I don't know, I think they kinda liked having me around, just with them."
There's a quiet, gentle pride there, but as Dennis speaks Jack can see that it's bruised, the damage fresh. Dennis swallows around the words that might have wanted to come after that confession, and as he looks back up at Jack, suddenly appraising, his tail starts to wag.
"But you're a doctor? That's so cool!"
Jack tries to pull his own smile out of his own mire of sticky, dark thoughts, and is pleasantly surprised to find that even after all this time, that tiny flicker of pride at being able to call himself doctor still sparks.
It makes it slightly easier to meet the fascinated sparkle in Dennis' eyes with something real.
"Yeah. Me and Robby - my husband, the man I was with yesterday? We both work in Pittsburgh, in an emergency department. We're only here because there's a medical conference going on upstairs, and sometimes part of the job is being forced to fly to a different city and sit in a room filled with your least favourite people, listening to them talk about your least favourite topics."
Dennis giggled, and his ears twitched like Jack's words had physically tickled something.
"I'm willing to bet there's more hissing, spitting, and fur flying at medical conferences than there is at one of these things." Jack nods his head to encompass their surroundings. "You wouldn't believe how bitchy it can get in clinical academia. Personally, I always think it's a sign of too much time on too many hands."
He puts up both palms and wiggles them in a little jazz hands motion before he can think better of it. He takes a second to thank god that the interns and medical students weren't here to see it - they already give him enough shit for being a boomer, which he has tried to explain many times is patently untrue, but maybe he brings it on himself with shit like this.
Dennis seems to like it though, laughing a genuine and honestly kind of goofy little laugh which makes Jack's own smile start to ache.
"I always thought that doctos were mature, serious people." Dennis volunteers, giving Jack a look that practically twinkles and a little twist of his lips that speaks of trouble. Jack solemnly shakes his head.
"We're all overgrown children with bloated egos and fragile self-esteem. Present company excluded, of course."
"Oh, of course!" Dennis chitters, ears smoothing back earnestly. "You've only been standing here complaining about how all your colleagues are mean and boring. Very mature, super stoic."
The laughter that bubbles out of him is louder than he'd expected, and he ducks his head and tucks his hands in his pockets while he gets it under control. There are little plumes of soft, golden fur drifting in the air around them, because Dennis' tail is wagging so hard.
"You want to see what I get up to at my...'conferences'?" Dennis asks, clearly brimming with excitement and wiggling on his perch.
For the first time, Jack really takes note of what he's wearing. It's an odd, plain white garment, almost shift-like. It's neither baggy nor clingy, instead it seems to drape over the outline of Dennis' body gently, like water. There are strange ties all along the side, almost like you might find on a hospital gown. He blinks, clears the thought from his head at the sight of Dennis' tilted head and eagerly-waiting gaze.
"Hell yeah, buddy, show me what you got."
Dennis makes an odd sound, halfway between a yip and an exhalation of air, shoving himself off his seat and gesturing Jack closer into his little booth. He turns a little display board so it's in Jack's line of sight, and he can see that it's festooned with bright, silky ribbons in every colour and shade imaginable. They all have gold or silver writing stitched in, proclaiming Dennis either first or second place in the 'companion' category.
Jack digs his thumbnail into his palm so hard he feels a slight tackiness start to bead at the nail, but his smile remains firmly in place while Dennis intently studies his face, so the pain in his hand doesn't even matter.
"Holy shit, Dennis, this is all you?" It's a stupid, pointless question, but Dennis is beaming and his tail is wagging as he nods, so once again Jack decides that nothing else matters. "Damn, this is quite the impressive collection. So you're kind of a star, huh?"
That giggle again, although this time it's interrupted by the bustling, harried approach of the man from yesterday, Dennis' so-called 'handler.'
"I'm so sorry - oh, it's you." The man stops short a little even as he fusses at Dennis, urging him to stand and turn even as the man addresses Jack with an expression that's hard to read. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure you'd be back after yesterday."
Jack shrugs, stares back unblinkingly, not willing to offer the standard social niceties about a fake urgent appointment.
"Denny, for - please try to keep your ears still before we go out there. You manage to get all kinds of knots and crinkles in them."
The man picks up a comb and starts worrying at the long, curly strands of fur at the very base of Dennis' ears. Dennis winces at the tug, but smiles at Jack despite the man's sweaty fussing.
The strands look impossibly soft, and Jack wants to twist the curls around his finger and make them more pronounced, even as the comb straightens them out.
"Look, we're just about to go out on the floor, they're calling Dennis' number." The man throws over his shoulder at Jack. "You're welcome to stay and watch, but if you want to pick up where we left off yesterday you'll need to come back on Saturday. We've got appointments immediately after this - well, that's what we're hoping for, isn't it Denny?"
The man gives Dennis a jovial little shove and pat, and Dennis smiles up at him, nodding along, but the smile dips and wavers at the corners and his tail only twitches minutely. He darts a quick glance at Jack, who feels his thumb dig even deeper into the cresent-shaped wound he's making.
He opens his mouth to say something, but the handler is setting down the comb with a sharp, metallic clink and ushering Dennis away from his booth before Jack can even process what is happening.
He sees Dennis glance back over his shoulder as he's tugged away towards the show area, and he tries to school his face into an expression that is reassuring despite the fact that he has none to offer.
Dennis smiles back at him anyway, although his ears remain, as per instruction, perfectly still.
------
Jack follows Dennis and his handler as far as he can before he reaches an area his presence will clearly not be tolerated in, at which point he turns on his heel and finds himself a space at the small 'arena' area that has been cordoned off by a ring of boards with advertising and sponsorship logos splashed all over them. He takes up his post, bracing against the boards with his forearms and prepares to wait. It's at least a relief to be able to take a little weight off his leg, which is starting to protest the heat of the showroom.
He's surpised that he doesn't have to wait long at all, as Dennis' handler enters the show arena at an awkward pace halfway between a power walk and a jog, looking like it's uncomfortable to keep up.
Dennis trots along easily and gracefully at his side, looking like he would happily break into a full run but is locking the desire down tightly.
Someone, somewhere is droning on in an irritatingly loud voice, presumably saying things about Dennis that barely register with Jack, but which he recognises as show language that he wouldn't understand.
What he does understand, is when a two men in smart suits join Dennis and his handler on the floor of the arena, and start touching Dennis.
They greet the handler first, with polite smiles, which he returns stiltedly. The man in charge, clearly some kind of judge based on the uneasy deference the handler is showing him, says nothing to Dennis as he puts both hands on his face and pries open his mouth.
The lines of Dennis' body remain remarkably relaxed, in sharp contrast to Jack's, which has tightened every muscle capable of doing so.
The judge tilts Dennis' head this way and that, runs a finger inside his mouth along his teeth, making Jack clench his own. He runs his hand briskly over Dennis' beautiful soft ears, tugging and turning them to peer inside and then giving him a rough pat in reward. He is quick and far too careless with his hands, considering the effort that had been put into making Dennis look so perfect.
He runs his hand down Dennis' back and grabs his tail at the base, and for some reason Jack can feel something ugly and heavy settling in his stomach, can feel his palms dampening and his pulse starting to pick up a sickly rhythm.
The man pulls Dennis' tail this way and that, ruffling his fingers through the fur. Then he fetches something from his pocket, and Jack's heart and stomach both lurch sickeningly as he takes in the two things that happen next.
One, is that Jack finds out why there were side-ties to the garment that Dennis was wearing, as the man assisting the judge runs his finger down them and unties them with a deftness that makes Jack swallow down something thick and dreadful. The garment hangs loosely on Dennis for a moment before the man tugs it swiftly off without a second thought, leaving Dennis completely naked under the harsh arena lighting. There is no rustle of surprise or discomfort in the audience around him, and Jack wants to shake people, grip all the unfazed faces around him and yell and shout until something moves them.
The second thing that happens, is that Jack sees what the judge was removing from his pocket.
Gloves. Blue, sterile gloves, the same as the hundreds of thousands of pairs that Jack has worn himself over the years.
Jack feels like something large and cold has him in his jaws as his entire body freezes up as he watches the judge immediately reach between Dennis' legs. He pats his thigh once, at which Dennis spreads them just a little, and even reaches out to steady himself on the arm his handler has presented him for support. He bends at the waist slightly.
The judge grips Dennis' genitals like they're nothing more than clay replicas, carelessly and quickly squeezing penis and testicles, before dipping further back to touch his omega anatomy.
He spends far more time there. Jack isn't sure whether to feel grateful or cowardly for the fact that he can't see anything more than the man's hand working mechanically between Dennis' thighs. Dennis' face is blank and unmoving as the man's knuckles disappear and his wrist moves quickly and carelessly.
Jack's not sure how long it lasts, but he's had traumas go south that felt like they went quicker than this.
When the judge removes his hand, wetness glints off the blue glove before it is quickly removed and disposed of. He smiles and shakes hands with Dennis' handler, whose shoulders relax and who returns the smile more genuinely than he had previously.
He gives Dennis a pat on the stomach before resuming that awkward walk-jog out of the arena, Dennis following sedately behind.
Jack stalks along the edge of the advertising border, keeps his eyes locked on Dennis as he exits the show area and into a 'backstage' area only vaguely separated from the rest of the room by larger advertising banners.
He doesn't take his eyes off Dennis until he's gently rebuffed by someone wearing the dark colours of event security.
"I'm sorry, sir - do you have an appointment?"
"What?" He barely spares the security a glance as he scans over their shoulder, desperately trying to keep track of Dennis. He thinks he sees a flash of those reddish-blond curls, but they're getting lost in a sea of other faces and bodies.
"You need to be a pre-approved breeder to access this part of the event, sir." The worst part is that this man looks like he genuinely doesn't want to be breaking this news to Jack.
He fishes around for something to use, some trump card to play.
"I was speaking to Dennis' handler yesterday - I have an alpha I want to stud. He told me Dennis' owner was considering offers."
He sends up some silent plea for forgiveness for even thinking the words, let alone saying them out loud like they were reasonable and didn't leave the back of his teeth feeling sticky.
The man glances down, makes a poor attempt at schooling his own expression before he sighs.
"Look, unless your name is on this list, I can't let you back there. They have appointments booked out for the next three days. Come back on Saturday."
Jack's palm is sticky with a mixture of tacky blood and fresh sweat. It's been a long time since he's felt so fucking helpless.
Established rabbot who fuck hard and fast and a little gross, I’m talking grew up heavy in the underground queer scene and exposure to the culture gave them a very liberallllll exposure to kink.
Then they start dating little (kinda sheltered but grew up on the internet) Gen Z Dennis- with his queer culture mainly formed on message boards and tumblr and a very radically progressive view of queerness that’s kinda sanitised.
And then when he watches his boyfriends fuck for the first time, tugging at leather harnesses and spitting in each others mouths he just sits there in his little tight white boxers and socks, cross legged, eyes wide and scandalised and whispers …. Guys do you know you can’t say faggot anymore, it’s like, a slur
Big internalised homophobia dennis whitaker absolutely consumed with sexual shame who has never so much as touched tips with another man before shyly pursuing a relationship with robby, who makes him feel so safe and so supported and so real and so cared for
Vs internalised homophobia of a DIFFERENT kind michael robinavitch who has always fucked other men but almost never loved them, and certainly never loved the ones he was fucking, who feels white-hot anxious and guilty for reciprocating this much younger man's desire, feels so dirty-wrong-bad for even wanting to fuck him when what he craves is obviously robby's gentleness
Going out for coffee after coffee after coffee, dennis slowly closing the gap between them, occasionally a beer but never two. Working on the bike together. Grocery shopping. Watching a movie together where dennis very very slowly insinuates himself against robby's side, and then his chest, then his lap
Never daring to make the first sexual move. Nervously asking "is this okay?" and robby is physically passive but verbally assures him it's okay, he can take what he wants, he can take what he needs from robby
Weeks and then months of dennis jacking off to thoughts of robby and vice versa; santos going almost crazier than dennis at the fact that they haven't fucked yet
And finally robby and dennis hanging out one evening and dennis slowly taking off his clothes as robbt says "hey, you don't need to, you don't have to do that, we can..." and dennis mumbling "i want to. Please. Can't I?"
And robby finally Breaking
And tearing off the last of dennis' clothes and roughly pinning him down, and dennis gasping and shuddering in shock and a little fear and then overwhelming pleasure as robby fucks into him too hard and too fast, bites down on his shoulder and leaves hickeys down his neck, fingertip bruises against his hips, his thighs
A lot of lube but no easing into it, just shoving in all the way to the root as dennis howls, and when dennis is overstimulated and teary-eyed and too dazed to beg for mercy robby just keeps fucking him and fucking him and fucking him
dededos
kianamaiart
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
izzy806
ellievsbear
