hello vonnie
shark vs the universe
Jules of Nature
Xuebing Du
Product Placement
tannertan36
@theartofmadeline
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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Today's Document
art blog(derogatory)
blake kathryn
Not today Justin
DEAR READER
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
oozey mess
Kaledo Art
Origami Around
occasionally subtle
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seen from Canada
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seen from France
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seen from Colombia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Iraq
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@submarine-in-space
hidden transition goal achieved
i cut my hair (masculine style) and one of my dear dolls suggested i would be sexier if i looked more tired. “with huge eyebags.”
as i become more masculine looking, i hypothesize the next stage to this line of sexiness will be bleeding and bruised but persevering. after that? who knows. perhaps when i am 99% passing, i will be sexiest in a locked room being ball tortured by a guy with a knotted rope, just like mr. james bond!
pope + text posts
Okay walk with me:
At first, Trinity genuinely hates Andrew. Of course she does. What could this sketchy ex-con want with a sweet, innocent little huckleberry? Everything about it screams “ulterior motives,” every alarm in her nervous system is going haywire, and all she can do is beg Dennis to be careful.
(tw csa, self harm, and violence)
fanfic writers and fan artists are carrying fandoms. they are the backbone of fandoms.
thank you fanfic writers and fan artists
I'm sure I've left some people out because I slapped this together in 15 minutes but it's a whole lot more, imo artists and writers are nothing without these other guys (gn)
It's an ecosystem guys, we need all of it
and we can't forget video editors (amvs and such) - my fandom experience is not the same without some banger edits that i replay constantly throughout my hyperfixation
💬 3 🔁 83 ❤️ 206 · michael robinavitch | god must hate me
this is the edit @hrast-ika is referring to! (yes i did dig through their blog to find it)
Dennis Whitaker disappears after his first shift at PTMC, and a few nights later, Robby tells Jack that the kid has been involved in an accident, and his left leg has been amputated.
---
Jack only met Dennis Whitaker once, and he only feels a little bad in saying that with everything happening in the aftermath of Pittfest, he didn't really remember the kid that well. He had a vague memory of big, fearful eyes, a competence fitting of an MS3, and nothing particularly loud or remarkable about the kid.
He didn't think too much of it, beyond a vague and academic concern, when Robby greeted him with a frown a couple of nights later at handoff.
"Are you gonna tell me or do I need to guess?"
"Whitaker hasn't shown up for his shifts the last few days."
Jack blinks, taking a moment.
"The med student? Brother, maybe the MCI got to him. That shit was trial by fire, and the reality of what we do isn't for everyone. Maybe he's just taking some time, thinking about his options."
Robby nods, but Jack can tell he's not convinced.
Turns out, he's right not to be.
pope has a hard time orgasming …
…during masturbation because of his meds, but when he moves in with dennis and jack, his desires become so intense that he does.
smut. incest. pregnancy. infantilization.
occasionally pope can’t sleep and gets scared and will stand at the end of their bed. one of them will inevitably wake up and beckon him to climb in. the first time it happens it’s jack who wakes, so pope climbs in behind his brother and becomes the biggest spoon. the second time it happens it’s dennis, and pope becomes the littlest spoon. it becomes a once monthly occurrence, sometimes twice, never zero.
as time goes on pope finds he’s jealous. in his favorite world, in his imagination in his own bed, he silently crawls in between them and gets to be the middle spoon. he thinks it would be so warm. hot, even. his whole body would tingle with how much skin was pressed against him; he would lose track of arms and legs and tummies and backs, yet lose track of nothing. jack’s arms would tighten around him, and jack would huff into his neck. jack’s stump would be thrown over his thigh, and jack’s bulge would be pressed to his ass. pope imagines dennis would snuggle back into him, would reach back and run a hand through his curls as jack slowly began to hump at his ass. jack’s soft bulge would harden with each little thrust, till he could feel jack’s hard length perfectly. the humping would make his own bulge rock against dennis’s ass. dennis would mistake him for jack, would murmur something sweet to him. in his imagination jack is asleep, just rutting and rutting, unconsciously using him. and dennis would reach back for his cock, thinking him jack, and dennis would stroke him. those doctor fingers would work over him exactly how jack likes it, because in the dark dennis wouldn’t be able to tell.
but dennis should know, because there are too many arms and legs, but he doesn’t. or he allows it. or he thinks jack is in the middle. the fantasy morphs.
pope gets to feel dennis’s sweet mouth on his, gets to feel his brother wake up and really use him, deliberately, to moan his name: andy… he gets dennis’s tongue down his own throat as he gets to hear jack cum against his ass, the wet in jack’s boxers leaking through to dampen his own boxer’s, too. dennis is stroking him still. and then jack reaches a hand around his body and joins dennis, their hands working on him, encouraging him to reach the end.
j: good boy.
d: you can do it. just like that.
j: come on, andy.
d: so handsome.
j: you can do it, honey.
d: yeah? you like it like that?
j: yeah. he does. so needy.
d: good boy.
j: baby just needed to crawl between us. needed to let his big brother use him.
d: you can crawl between us anytime, baby.
j: tst. you could have just asked us, you know. such a sweet boy. use your sweet words next time.
d: jackie, he’s a good boy. you’re a good boy, andy. we’ll take care of you, okay, baby?
j: we love taking care of you, andy.
d: we love you, baby.
j: we love you, andy. i love you. you’ve been so good for us. doing everything and more.
d: cooking and cleaning for us when we’re tired? such a good malewife.
j: i oughta put a baby in you. fill you up for nine months. yeah, baby. move your hips just like that.
d: you’d look so good carrying jackie’s baby. yes, of course you can cry. when you’re pregnant you’ll cry a lot.
j: you’re safe, andy. you’re safe. such a good boy. i love you, okay? you’re safe right here.
d: from now on you can always sleep with us, okay? every day.
j: maybe tomorrow you can suck us before bed, a little warm milk to settle your tummy…
pope nuts in his fist, strangling his own whimper at the idea of needing their warm milk to sleep. every night. getting so full on his knees. he imagines himself heavily pregnant, on his knees, drinking their milk. to make the baby healthy, jack insists. you need daddy’s milk to make the baby strong. don’t you want our baby to be strong? pope would nod, mouth stuffed. good. you can get a little more out. keep sucking.
even though he’s just orgasmed for the first time in months, the thought of drinking jack completely dry every night has his dick plumping up in his hand again. he needs to move out! how can he crawl into their bed the next time he’s scared and not get embarrassingly hard??
explain your gender in 10 words or less without using boring words like “male”, “female”, “nonbinary”, “masculine”, “feminine” or “androgynous”.
go!
check me out on tiktok @javadiology
Thinking about Dennis explaining what the Omegaverse is to his 3 offline boyfriends (I feel like Jack would already know what it is but he enjoys watching Dennis squirm while explaining it to them) and then they all take an Omegaverse test. Robby gets Caring Alpha, Jack Dominant Alpha, and Dennis gets nurturing Omega, and they all kind of laugh and discuss how that fits and parts that don't while Andrew is just... eerily quiet in the back until Dennis asks, "Aaand??" And he just kind of blushes and doesn't want to talk about his result which makes Dennis LUNGE for his phone, pressing Andrew's face away as he wrestles for it and eventually snatches it out of his boyfriend's hand. "Oh my god -" Dennis let's out on a laugh, which makes Michael and Jack go, huh?? Because yeah, what else could Andrew have? Probably also protective Alpha or some shit like that.
But no. Dennis turns the phone around and the result is Submissive Omega. Andrew is bright red, just wanting to die while the others tease him about it. "Ooh, our big, big submissive Omega, who needs all the protection from his strong Alphas." Coos Dennis while squishing his face in his hand. "Yes, you will have all our babies, mh? Isn't that right?" Andrew WISHED it wouldn't make his dick twitch.
pope starts reading abo obsessively and starts coming to his boyfriends with scene ideas. he realizes he’s literally already living the omegaverse life. if he could only get pregnant… (he’s already stealing clothes to snuggle with, rubbing himself like a cat on his boyfriends, trying to smell like them and being crazy possessive... and cleaning their home when stressed! trad omega?!)
dennis buys a strap that can expand with a knot if he presses a remote button and fucks andrew with it
pope gets an easy job
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 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.
but one gym…
“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.
his life is fine.
***
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?”
“pope.”
“okay. have you been watching me?”
“yeah.”
“that’s weird.”
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.
“i’m dennis.”
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.”
the kid shifts.
“dennis.”
the kid shakes his head.
“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.
dennis drives.
pope is half-carried inside, is gently lowered onto his bed. he sees dennis turn to leave, sees dennis hang up his truck keys.
“stay.”
dennis stills.
“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.”
pope’s brow furrows.
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.”
“thanks for healing me.”
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.
yes?
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.
why?
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.
dennis’s bubbles stop.
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.
is dennis straight?
are you straight?
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.
you want that?
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.
dennis whines.
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.
“knees.”
dennis lowers himself.
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.
a sob. “i can’t.”
pope spanks him. 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 backs 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.”
“rape your what?”
“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 head 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 he 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.
“good hole.”
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.
leashed pope and dennis at pride!
they get to the end of the march and there’s a green space that says off leash area. dennis unclips him and pope freezes for a sec, but then he sees other people—a lot of dolls and trans guys running around—shoving each other, spinning in circles, and he fucking loses his mind. he’s chasing people, slipping in the dirt, play biting and rolling around. he finds a few people who want to be picked up and thrown around and he enjoys it. people are coming up to him asking to be spun and thrashed and tackled. when he’s sweating hard and thinking about sitting, a six foot bear comes over and offers to pick him up. and he looks at dennis, then at the bear, and nods. this big ass guy picks him up and thrashes him so good. his fucking brain is reset like 8 times in the span of twenty seconds. he’s laughing his head off as he stumbles back to dennis, grinning from ear to ear.
dennis is just smiling like ah yeah that’s my good boy. he cups pope’s face to steady him and asks, “you wanna do that again?”
pope nods, nuzzling dennis. it’s all thanks to dennis encouraging him.
cue dennis setting up puppy play dates with other queer people. the monthly plays really help pope settle some of his crazier urges. at some point they get a regular group going weekly. pope loves it.
pope on a leash
at pride! gay rainbow leash. cuz he’s been so nervous about being out. like, out. but whenever he gets his collar and his muzzle he knows he’s gonna be okay. he just goes fuzzy. he knows he’s safe. no thinking. even the cops don’t faze him.
maybe a harness, maybe just shirtless. maybe some androsexual pride flags painted on him. plus a few do no pet warning signs in big scary lettering.
and dennis is so nice to him! watering him and feeding him and only making him use the nasty public bathroom when he really needs to go. ruffling his hair and kissing his cheek. he even sees jack and robby at pride and they treat him like he’s totally normal! like being on a leash is normal. he’s allowed to just be dennis’s mutt at pride and it’s awesome.
pope has opinions about instagram
whitacker and trinity drive to the bar. it’s bumpin. and because dennis gets no game, trinity decides to play wingman. smut. ftm.
“get on your phone,” she whispers.
dennis squints at her. he’s pretty sure phones are unwelcome at the bar. he’s on a barstool at the bar. maybe in line for the bathroom he could get away with it. he doesn’t want the hot bartender to think he’s lame as hell.
she adds, “and look forlorn. yeah. just like that. open instagram.”
he does, frowning down at his phone. or, trying to. he’s in a bit of a mood but he looks good and it is a rare friday night. and, ope, there’s abbot’s instagram. it’s a photo of their married attendings with the caption, happy pride! he scrolls. he is NOT reading that damn blurb about how much they love each other. when will he find a hot doctor? a hot anyone?
trinity leans into him, or, over him. to someone behind him she beckons, then says, “hey, do you think it’s wrong for my friend to be on instagram at the bar?”
“yeah.” a high, masculine voice. breathy. oddly familiar.
she nudges him with her knee and dennis dutifully swivels, looks up at the man. he’s a dead ringer for abbot. what. the. fuck?
the man is young and red headed, and looks pissed. but he’s hot.
the man looks down at him, lowers his head. it’s uncanny the way he moves just like abbot. dennis wonders briefly if he hit his head.
“are you single?”
dennis blinks at the question. “yeah.”
“then why are you on instagram at the bar?”
over his head trinity says, “because he’s very single.”
“what do you want to drink?” the man asks.
he can feel trinity grinning as she backs away. “don’t let him order a beer,” she says as she goes. “he won’t drink it!”
dennis straightens. “a beer is fine.”
the man doesn’t respond, just looks at him. and wow. the man is… so buff. god his forearms are like fire hydrants.
dennis’s mouth goes dry but he swallows and says, “uh, mojito. or rum and coke. please.”
the man nods. within no time dennis has a rum and coke and a mojito in front of him.
dennis gazes up at him. an angel. “are you a doctor?” he asks.
“no,” the man says. “do i look like one?”
“yeah. you look like one i know.”
the man tilts his head. still his expression is the same as it has been all night. “jack abbot?”
dennis laughs. it’s ludicrous.
“my older brother.” the man turns away and picks up dennis’s mojito, sips it, puts it down. “he’s a pain in my ass.”
“he’s a pain in my ass, too,” dennis quips. and suddenly they’re talking. and it’s good. and dennis drinks the shot and the rum and they share the mojito. and then they’re getting out of there and dennis is texting trinity from andrew’s truck and holy shit they’re back at trinity’s place and andrew is… is waiting at the door.
“can i come in?”
oh he’s so polite.
dennis grins. “are you a vampire?”
andrew’s brows lower. “no.”
dennis takes a deep breath, remembering the little zine on sex trinity had given him. one of the bullet points had said something like, ask for what you want and be clear about it!
he swallows and says. “i want you to come inside, and i want you to make yourself at home.”
and the man does, miraculously. and then they’re in dennis’s room and he’s asking again, for andrew to kiss him and they are. and it’s amazing.
dennis is thanking trinity mentally as andrew’s hands slide down to his ass and pick him up. oh god he’s in the air. and the man is now below him. and the new angle he has on andrew’s mouth is so hot. and dennis can feel andrew between his legs. everything about him is big and hard.
andrew pulls back. it’s dark in the room but the beautiful man’s eyes are darker. “tell me what you want.”
dennis’s head goes fuzzy. he struggles to form thoughts for a moment. “i want you to lay me out, and take my clothes off. and… and take yours off while i watch. and then i’m going to get on the ground and, um, suck you for awhile. please. and then i want you to lay on the floor or the bed and let me ride you.” dennis doesn’t know where all that came from, probably the drinks. or maybe it’s andrew’s spit shiny lips below him. “please.”
the man groans and does everything just as dennis asked. he doesn’t even falter when he sees dennis has a cunt instead of a cock. and then the man’s heavy fucking dick is sliding over his tongue. he has to really relax his jaw to take the girth of the man but he’s salty and sweaty and heavy and naked and dennis’s eyes are shutting as the man begins to fuck against the back of his mouth, moaning above him.
is abbot this big? dennis wonders through the haze. how does robby manage to take this fucking thing up the ass? the filthy thoughts running through his mind make him forget to breathe on andrew’s backstroke. he gags as andrew grinds at his throat. dennis can feel his throat constricting on the fleshy tip and the man above him fucking whimpers.
fuck. dennis pulls off. he catches his breath. “that was so hot.”
andrew is looking down at him. hazy, too.
“you have a condom?” dennis asks. god please let him have a condom.
“yeah.”
he retrieves something from his clothes on the desk—because mr. autism fucking folded both sets of clothes—and dennis is rising but andrew shakes his head. “stay.”
dennis stays in his knees. this is so fucking good. he could stay on his knees all night if andrew would ask him like that. command him.
andrew slides back into dennis’s mouth as he unwraps the condom. dennis floats. in. out. in. out. grind. and it feels so good. out. in out in out in out in. a hand in his hair. grind. grind. out. in… but all too soon the heavy salty cock is pulling out out.
dennis pouts.
andrew laughs, rolling the condom on and reaching down for dennis’s hand. he pulls dennis up and jumps onto the bed, sprawling across the twin. “come here,” he says, tugging at dennis’s hand. andrew’s other hand is languidly stroking his cock. “come.”
dennis falls onto the bed, crawls up. he lowers himself with ease. he’s been riding his own glass dildo for years. and the man is only a little bigger, a lot longer…
“fuck,” dennis says as he lowers himself. the squishy part pushes in easily, but the rest? he rolls his hips, opening himself on the man. suddenly he’s sinking. and oh god, andrew is so deep. dennis grinds on it. pleasure radiates through him. he bounces on it, watches as andrew’s eyes close.
for a moment he imagines andrew is abbot. it’s easy when andrew closes his eyes and parts his pretty mouth. young and buff, maybe back from his first deployment. but dennis can’t really imagine abbot, because andrew opens his eyes and he’s not jack at all. he’s some wild beast thrusting up to meet dennis, but gripping his hips so, so delicately, as if he wants to mutilate dennis but won’t let himself.
a beast that controls itself, dennis thinks. dennis laughs. “do you have instagram?”
andrew snarls, reaches up and grabs him by the back of his neck, yanks him down and pistons into him.
“anh anh-“
the man bites his ear.
“ah!”
“don’t talk about instagram when i’m fucking you.”
dennis goes limp against andrew’s chest. his pussy goes limp, too. it feels right: to relax for that monstrous thing sliding in and out of him.
“you don’t even like instagram.” andrew slows his thrusts but fucks harder.
dennis gasps with each hard thrust. his pussy throbs on andrew’s girth as the man pulls out slowly. in again. out again. in! andrew is splitting him, and dennis can hear his own insides gaping wetly behind the slow drag of andrew’s cock as it leaves. over and over.
“you could have just asked me,” andrew says, all sweet. “no need to talk shit.”
dennis whimpers into the man’s neck. he opens his mouth to say something but the man’s pace increases again. his mouth becomes a useless gasping thing against andrew’s neck. drooling. his brain is fuzzy for so long. he’s just a gaping thing on both ends, slicking uncontrollably out of two holes for the man beneath him.
at some point andrew relents and let’s dennis ride again. he kneads dennis’s hips, gazes up at him. he controls the pace sometimes. bouncing dennis on it as if he weighs nothing, or forces dennis down to grind on it, to whimper.
when dennis tries to speak again, andrew let’s him, though his grip tightens in warning.
dennis has to swallow, has to brace his hands in the man’s chest to get the words our. “will you fuck me how you like until you cum? i want you to cum in me.”
andrew considers the request. he looks wary.
dennis pouts. “please cum in me?”
“okay. off.”
dennis pushes up on shaky legs. his pussy makes a gushing wet noise as andrew’s cock slides out. dennis’s legs shake at the loss, at the sounds.
“legs on the ground, stomach on the bed.”
dennis loses sight of andrew as the man gets up. around him.
“ah!” dennis arches his back as the man slides in. dennis gropes for his nightstand, hand fumbling weakly as the man begins a steady pace. the squelches are lewd. dennis crumples, vibrator in hand but forgotten.
andrew is huffing over his head. fucking and fucking and god damnit. the stretch at his entrance is punishing from this angle. dennis feels every milimeter in and out.
andrew’s thrusts become more intense but never erratic. the man is grunting, and it’s dennis’s only real warning the man is getting close. andrew presses against dennis’s back, hands still on his hips, breath hot on his ear. “use it,” andrew commands.
dennis complies. he fights to get his hand underneath himself—turning the thing on is fucking difficult with how much slick immediately coats his hand and the buttons, and the slap of balls on his fist makes his mind go numb—but as soon as the vibrations hit he’s shaking. andrew murmurs, “good boy,” and dennis is cumming, crying out and squeezing and trying to pull the vibrator off it’s so much the man is still fucking– ah!
there’s a curse and andrew bites his shoulder, the man’s own cry muffled and wet against dennis’s skin.
they stay like that for a good long while, dennis shaking. both of them pant. dennis’s legs eventually go and he falls to his knees, andrew sliding down with him. eventually the man pulls out, kisses his shoulders, murmurs sweetness into his ear as he pulls him up…
***
in the morning there’s a note on his desk. text me. and a number.
dennis grins down at the note. he has a feeling andrew will make him delete his instagram at some point. he senses… possessiveness. he remembers, vaguely, the cuddling afterwards. the strong arm under his head. the sniffing his hair. the fingers curling in his pubes and stroking through the hair on his stomach.
yeah. possessive.
his grin widens.
YOU DON'T NEED TO BE A SKINNY WHITE TWINK TO BE ATTRACTIVE AS A TRANS GUY. BE FAT. BE CHUBBY. HAVE SCARS AND STRETCH MARKS AND SPOTS AND CYSTS AND DRY SKIN AND DANDRUFF AND ECZEMA. HAVE MOHAWKS AND LOCS AND AFROS AND CURLS AND PIN-STRAIGHT HAIR. BE A POC. GET DARKER IN THE SUMMER. WEAR FEMININE CLOTHES, WEAR MASCULINE CLOTHES, WEAR A MIX OF EVERYTHING. GET SURGERIES, DON'T GET SURGERIES, GET HORMONES, DON'T GET HORMONES, MEDICALLY TRANSITION OR CHOOSE NOT TO OR CHOOSE TO ONLY DO CERTAIN PARTS OF IT BUT NOT OTHERS. USE WHATEVER PRONOUNS YOU WANT. HE, SHE, THEY, XEY, ZIR, OTHER NEOPRONOUNS, WHO CARES! BE WHOEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT TO BE, HOWEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT TO DO SO, BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT TRANSITIONING IS SUPPOSED TO BE. DO NOT LET YOURSELF BE CONTAINED IN ANOTHER MOULD RIGHT AFTER YOU JUST BROKE OUT OF THE LAST ONE.
#And please STOP trying to contain your trans siblings
#we should never be enforcing imaginary rules on each other
#part of community is helping each other stand tall
#SO STAND TALL
happy pride!
pope to the rescue
popewhit
ftm!dennis
ftm dennis who gets kidnapped for helping the cody family. his kidnappers chain his wrists to the ceiling and his toes barely touch the ground in the warehouse. he’s at least got his back to a wall, but the strain starts to hurt after the first hour or two. and then the men who kidnapped him come back. one of them thinks he’s pretty and decides he’ll take his pleasure, just to add insult to injury to the cody family, and dennis freaks out because the regular amount of torture and humiliation the guy was planning on sky rockets when he rips dennis’s pants off and sees dennis has internal genitalia. dennis can see it on the man’s face.
the guy starts spreading dennis’s legs and dennis is kicking and screaming and trying to hurt this guy, but the other kidnappers come to help hold dennis down.
they’ve got him pinned. he knows they’ll kill him after they rape him.
and then violence unsheathes itself. pope is there, bashing the kidnappers heads in with a steel pipe. dennis is dangling there with brains splattered all over him and pope is securing the perimeter. dennis watches him move around the building, looking for more.
dennis looks at the dead bodies of the men around him. one isn’t quite dead, and he wants him dead, he wants to kill the man. and he’s shocked. he’s never wanted anyone dead.
pope comes back, swings down at the man’s head once, hard, and the man doesn’t move again. pope straightens, and stops when he sees dennis has no cock.
and he asks.
pope fucking asks him, gesturing with the bloody steel pipe, his own face spattered with blood, too. “where’s your dick?” then he gets this look on his face, concerned. “did they? like…” he goes quiet. “cut it off?”
dennis blinks at him. he’s struggling, to say the least. dennis has always had a little crush on the oldest cody brother, and now the man is looking between his naked, brain-spattered legs with confusion. which is… not what he ever wanted the man to look like, while looking at him… down there!
“i-“ he has to try again, his mouth is so hoarse from screaming- “untie me?”
pope shakes himself. moves. drops the pipe on the floor—it clatters! so damn loud—and presses against dennis to work the chains apart. dennis so badly wants to wrap his legs around pope. the adrenaline is still coursing through him and he wants to fuck. to fuck pope. who saved him. fuck.
pope grunts at the chains, his mouth level with dennis’s since dennis is just on his tiptoes. “you need to get higher,” pope says, “get your weight of the chains.”
dennis wraps his legs around pope’s waist and levers himself up, pushing between the wall and pope’s hips. now he’s a little higher than pope, and the man isn’t looking at his face, just at the chains, and he’s grunting and his biceps and forearms are flexing, bulging around dennis. dennis is staring at pope’s bloody face, he knows it, knows pope can sense it. probably. but he can’t stop. his pussy is throbbing, pressed like it is against pope cody’s black jeans. he wants to rut against him.
he wants to ask. please fuck me, pope. i was so scared. and now you’re here.
pope’s furrowed brow smooths as the chains finally come free. and dennis has to tighten his legs or else hit the ground, because pope is stepping back, and dennis yelps! his hands scramble for pope’s neck.
pope’s hands come down and cup his ass, lifting him up. his fingers dig in. dennis thinks he feels pope hardening under his cunt as they hold each other. yes, the oldest cody brother is definitely rock hard. they stare at each other for a second and then pope is blushing and setting dennis down and shaking his head.
“sorry,” they both say at the same time, though pope mumbles it and dennis practically shouts it.
they’re both covering themselves, turned away.
pope is the first to recover. “not your fault you’re here. will you stay on as our physician?”
and things do sort of go back to normal. except that pope doesn’t quite talk to him now, or does but he also doesn’t. now when he talks to him he’s staring, too. and it makes dennis want to ride him, regardless of who else is in the room. he’s half certain pope wants him, half certain he’s just recalculating. pope stares now. so much more than before. it’s deliberate, thoughtful. creepy. worse, pope is doing more for dennis, and letting dennis do less. pope won’t let him carry his own med bag to the car if he’s dropping him off. he’s opening doors and helping him into his shoes (which really makes him feel like a child, and also gets him kinda hard). pope rarely touches him, but dennis can feel the sizzle in the space between them. pope even goes so far as to monitor how much he’s drinking at one of the famous cody brother parties.
dennis has to pull him aside that night. he’s rehearsed this. they’re in the backyard, near a rear gate. and they’re close. pope is staring down at him, breathing evenly. dennis stares at his chest as he says, “pope, i know you saw that i’m trans. stop treating me like a girl. i can carry my own stuff, i can open my own doors, and i’m perfectly capable of handling my liquor.”
pope’s voice is steady. “you’re not a girl. you’re a man.”
“okay, well, trans guys get treated like we’re fragile when people find out that we’re trans. we get… babied. i’m a man like you are, okay?”
“i know,” pope says. and dennis looks up. pope is looking at him. he must see something on dennis’s face, because then he’s not looking at dennis. he’s looking at dennis’s mouth, then at his own shoes. “i’m sorry. i– i don’t know how to treat a guy. but i want to know. i want to-“ pope takes a shaky breath- “i really want to. i want you.”
oh.
“how would you like me to… to treat you?” pope is looking at him again, so raw. he’s searching dennis’s face. “am i being weird? i feel-“ he looks strangled.
and dennis’s mind is fucking blank. the hottest guy he’s ever met, who asked him where his dick had gone, is… is… is what exactly? dennis takes a brave inhale. he’s glad he’s had a few drinks. “pope. do you… do you like me? like… dating?”
pope’s face drops. “are you not… into men?”
“no. i am.”
the admission only makes pope shut down further. “so, it’s me.”
“what? no! no! pope. pope. andrew.” dennis cups his face, widens his eyes. makes pope look at him. “andrew. i want you.”
“i’ve been acting wrong.” his beautiful nervous pout.
dennis wants him.
“i don’t care,” dennis says. “let’s go to my place. or your place. anywhere but here.”
and then andrew is lifting him, grinning full and beautiful, and dennis finally gets his legs around pope again and this time there’s no brain-smattering between his legs and no bile in his throat. he wishes he didn’t have pants on but it can wait.
pope is looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. such a fucking puppy. dennis kisses him. it’s perfect. he’s pushed up against the gate and pope is panting into his mouth, neither one can remember to breathe through their fucking noses.
they go to dennis’s place, because of course pope knows where it is, because of course pope has been following him. he as much admits it when he drives them there without directions or navigation (with his hand between dennis’s legs, fingertips massaging the growing wetness, letting dennis grind his little dick on the rough callouses on his palm (the palmar side of the metacarpophalangeal joints)).
dennis has imagined all the ways pope might fuck him, but the position he wants most is against a wall. any wall will do, and he tells pope as much.
pope laughs, draws his hand away to put the car in park, and leans over to kiss dennis sweetly. when he pulls back he says, “get out of the car.”
and dennis does, does everything just like pope commands him to. they shower together, quick and methodical. and then they’re in dennis’s full sized bed, and dennis’s legs are up and pope is staring again. staring at his clean, glistening, bushed-up cunt. pope’s eyes lock on his hard t dick.
pope leans down, sniffs at dennis’s little cock. “the internet says i should ask you what terms you want me to use.”
“i want you to fucking breed me,” dennis quips back. his ankles are tingling where pope’s hands are gripping them.
“really?” pope is looking up, chin practically in dennis’s bush. he looks so hopeful. “like, babies?”
dennis blushes. “well, i guess we should get married first. or something. but i have an IUD, so, i want to at least pretend tonight.”
sounding both genuinely confused and sarcastic at the same time, pope says, “you want me to pretend to breed you?” he lowers his mouth and inhales again, then slides his tongue delicately through dennis’s folds, up and down, just tasting. it makes dennis whimper. pope is gonna do more than try. the way the man is, dennis wouldn’t be surprised if pope could surpass the medical device.
dennis tries to move, to squeeze his legs and buck into pope’s mouth, but pope just spreads his legs wider till he’s pinned from the stretch. it’s the opposite of how the kidnappers made him feel. dennis is dying to get fucked, is letting pope spread him. he wants it.
pope had told him to keep his hands above his head but it’s hard. he wants to run his fingers into that curly auburn hair and fuck pope’s face. he wants to see pope’s nose and cheeks and chin drenched and dripping. he wants pope in him now.
pope continues lapping at dennis. letting his nose rub into dennis’s clit. eventually his whole face is at work. at some point dennis is aware that pope is just rubbing his face into dennis’s slick cunt, not even doing anything, but it’s doing something because dennis is whining and twitching. he’s breathing hard and whining for pope andrew please andrew baby please!
when pope finally comes up his face is covered just like dennis imagined, but more; somehow. it’s up his cheekbones and down his neck. and he’s licking around his mouth like a cat. his eyes are hazy. he tugs dennis’s down, his shoulder muscles bulging as he stares down at where dennis’s slicked ass and thighs are pressed to his legs.
dennis whimpers as pope folds him, whimpers again when pope has to use his hand to press the head of his cock against dennis’s cunt—holding dennis’s ankles in one large hand—because dennis has slicked so much, and pope has smeared him around so thoroughly, that they’d be here all night if pope tried to get inside without using his hand to guide his thick pink cock in.
dennis feels the raw head press into him, feels the hardness of the shaft follow it, force him open. the stretch is painful and he grits his teeth. pope slows, stops. he pulls back, pushes in lightly. repeats it until dennis’s walls have expanded enough to take him. andrew is still holding dennis’s legs up with one hand when he finally bottoms out. pope gasps as his eyes roll back.
dennis whines. “please! andrew! i want you to fuck me against a wall.”
“i wouldn’t be able to stay in with how wet you are,” pope says. the man groans as he pulls out and thrusts back in. “you’re so wet for me i can hardly stay in right now.”
dennis registers the cruel tone, and it’s getting him off, and pope knows it. but pope is still a sweet heart, even if he’s an asshole, and he’s picking dennis up, ankles pressed to pope’s shoulder, and carrying him to the nearest wall.
picture frames clatter to the ground as pope rams into dennis, again and again. papers flutter off the nearby desk.
dennis can only moan with each thrust. andrew is so deep. he can feel andrew working his intestines; it’s the kind of great sex that will make him have a bowel movement later. but his legs are wrong. his feet are up by pope’s head. he needs–
“want-“ dennis gasps- “my legs to be around–unh–you.”
pope grunts and pulls out, making dennis cry out as he rearranges dennis’s legs around his waist. when he finally pushes back in dennis cries at the fullness, at the rightness. he should have asked pope to fuck him the day pope rescued him. just like that, brains and all.
pope seems to get the picture because his eyes light up. “put your arms up,” he commands.
and dennis does, as though he were still chained.
and pope’s eyes darken. pope reaches up, letting go of dennis’s ass to hold the smaller man’s arms above their heads. dennis realizes through the haze of being pounded into oblivion that it is as if pope were his chains instead of his savior, and he’s fucking dennis in sharp short strokes. it’s not even a good position but it’s so right. and pope is grunting and all his muscles are working. they’re both swearing, open mouthed, needing it.
dennis is holding on with his legs for dear life. he swears he’s hanging on pope’s cock. it’s the only solid thing keeping him upright as his legs turn to jello.
pope pushes his face into dennis’s neck, their chests flat against each other. “anyone else ever try to fuck you like this i’ll kill them, too.”
it makes his pussy throb, makes his pussy suck pope in on pope’s backstroke, which make’s pope let out a strangled sound. pope curses against dennis’s neck, his thrusts becoming erratic and shallow as they slip down the wall into the mess on the floor. pope fucks dennis on his knees, holding him at the right height by their intertwined hands.
“tell me again,” dennis begs even as pope’s teeth gnaw at his neck. “andy please.”
pope pants against his neck, humping into dennis like a mutt, like a bull. “i’ll fucking kill them.” pope clenches his teeth. “den.”
dennis can feel him cumming, the way his body has gone stiff and his mouth slack at dennis’s neck. that and the hot syrupy cum dennis can feel as it bubbles against his cervix. dennis’s whole body can feel that cum inside him. dennis had thought his pussy had been milking pope before but now he’s aware of his own orgasm, residual and small compared to what he might have gotten had his own dick but stroked, but his pussy is throbbing on pope’s cock, drinking and feasting on the enormity inside that is pope. his pussy throbs to get more out. dennis concedes to it, mentally. he wants more. he wants every drop that comes out of pope’s balls. he wants it in him. in his mouth, in his pussy. he’d let pope fuck his ass raw. as long as pope was in him. is in him.
dennis realizes all of this in the time it takes pope to come back to himself, only realizes he lost the plot when pope is kissing him. asking if he’s okay, licking at his face. dennis realizes pope’s face is still slick with dennis’s slick. need his babies, dennis thinks. i need his babies.
and dennis can still feel pope cumming, leaking spurts. pope is still hard inside him as pope carries him back to the bed. pope lays them down, dennis underneath. there’s a final grunt and thrust from pope. a final spurt.
dennis shivers gasping. he has another orgasm from just that. and he’s crying and whimpering and pope is kissing his tears and petting his face as dennis grinds his hips for friction on pope’s belly. pope kisses him once, patiently, pulls his hard cock out and fucks him roughly for a second as he thumbs dennis’s cock, which makes the man grimace but it makes dennis white out. he feels pope’s cock give him a little more, a little more and he must have blacked out because he wakes to pope wiping him down, pope’s own face clean of slick.
they curl up together. in the morning pope fucks him soft and slow, let’s dennis ride his perfect length until andrew is a shivering pathetic mess. dennis kisses him as his pussy soaks up his cum. dennis could keep riding if it wouldn’t hurt his baby. pope being his baby makes him want to laugh, but the man is so precious, so pathetic, so vulnerable sometimes that it’s true. and dennis thinks, even if it might be tough, that pope is autistic enough and dennis is passing enough that pope will let him. will let dennis take care of him, man to man. baby to baby.
he clenches down on pope, snuggles on top of him as pope’s cock leaks into him, as their slick and cum leak down their legs.
eventually pope has the wherewithal to ask if dennis would like to go on a date. yes he would. and within the week they’re officially dating. pope is unafraid to tell the family. he’s smug, actually, when he tells his brothers. his mother is a different story. she raises her eyebrows, but something in pope’s look must make her keep her mouth shut. by the end of the year dennis has matched at PTMC and pope is packing up their truck (theirs because pope insists on everything being theirs). his family is pissed that pope is leaving but pope is just shrugging. “we’ll come back.” he grins at dennis. “maybe we’ll come back with a baby.”
the family laughs and teases. pope you can’t get a man pregnant. but it’s perfect. dennis is all blushes. because of course they don’t know. and if he’s pregnant in pittsburgh they’ll never know.
god he loves this man.
i have to be the popewhit i want to see in the world
