Wherein Robby’s motorcycle is a red herring but not wearing a helmet is the true culprit.
———
I started this around the first few episodes of Season 2 and finally finished it. There’s gonna be at least one more, maybe two, parts left. Gonna take me awhile to finish it tho haha. Just wanted to get part one out before the finale.
“You know I can’t do that, Starshine. You’re sick.”
“Robby-“
“Hush.”
——-
Jack was proudly part of a local leather community. Boasted about it every game night and doggedly decided to drag Robby to something called a dungeon party. Reluctant to go, Robby finally agreed just to shut him up so he could watch the Steelers lose in peace.
‘You’re too much in your head and I have the cure. Get a feel for it, brother. Let loose.’
True to his word that week Robby found himself in a dungeon party. Alone. Jack had ditched him the moment they stepped in. Stating something about bears being solitary hunters. Whatever the hell that meant.
Needless to say it was awkward, not something he could see himself jiving with. Too many rules. Too many bodies, too much sweat, weird sounds, and even weirder smells. Not enough beer.
Then he met ‘Ken’. Someone he’d never pursue in the daylight. Too young. Too pretty. Too tall.
But something slotted into place as those too blue eyes bore into him. For the first time in a very-very-long time, Robby was having fun. Fun that entailed skilled lips around his dick and wet electric eyes staring up at him.
Let loose indeed.
He started going more to these ‘parties’ just to try to catch Ken. Even going without Jack. The more he went, the more they played together, the more Robby found other things that wouldn’t work out in the long run with Ken. Too energetic. Too much of a brat. Hair too perfect. Still too fucking pretty.
Against his better judgement he tried to needle any information he could. Everything he knew was surface level. The fact Ken licked his lips when nervous. How his nose scrunched up before orgasming. Praise lit him up but humiliation burnt him down and put him in line.
Three months in he finally got Ken to agree to coffee. It was different seeing him in regular clothing. A good different. He looked softer. He was still loud. Still a brat. But there was something else. He wore beaded bracelets and told dorky jokes. He liked Frappuccinos but thought donuts were too sweet. He was a med student and smiled bright-blindingly so-when Robby mentioned the MD tacked to his own name.
While Ken was pretty and sensual under him in the dungeon, there in the light he was goofy, yet beautiful. A beauty that had nothing to do with his looks. Robby wanted to soak up every drop. To bathe in it.
Eventually coffees turned to dinners and he learned his real name-Frank. It fit. Settled around his mouth, around his thoughts, better than Ken. When asked how he came up with the pseudonym, a pretty blush bloomed. A smile so shy Robby catalogued it. He wanted to see it on him more. Apparently another student with a mean bite gave him the moniker Medboy Ken. Robby still didn’t understand. Frank had to actually say the name Barbie for him to connect the dots. Blush deepening. Robby wondered how he’d look in Barbie pink, and decided he’d like to find out.
During pillow talk one night Frank opened up even more. Split himself open so gorgeously for Robby. Talking about how he was thinking of getting into Sports Medicine because he loved hockey so much. Too much, he hurt his back trying to go pro. Back pain that lead to pills. Pills that lead to other drugs. Words coming out fast. Eyes unable to meet his.
Finally there was the baggage. The black mark he’d been looking for and it was labeled addict. Robby gladly took it. Placed it among the other tidbits he scraped up, slowly putting together the picture of Frank. Besides who was he to judge? He had a damn U-haul full of baggage. He wrung another orgasm out of him; a reward for his honesty.
But the reveal festered. Robby knows addicts. He knows relapse is real. Frank even admitted he’s done that dance already. How he struggles and the scenes help. How he never had a support system. First in his family to go to college, but they cut off all contact when they found out about his sexuality. And everyone at school was cut throat looking for any sign of weakness. Hard to make friends. He even tried some NA meetings but they didn’t seem to stick.
It hadn’t been so much an if he relapsed but a when. So it was no surprise when Robby finds Frank a few months after the teary confession in a back room at the dungeon, eyes blown, giggling, and loose. What is a surprise is some second-rate dom who’s licking coke off a throat that belonged to Robby. Hot liquid floods through him. He doesn’t remember what happened; he just comes back to himself half carrying Frank out the back with throbbing bloody knuckles. Leaving the dungeon for good.
He settles him in the passenger seat of an old Bronco Jack and him restored a few years ago. Pushing sweat soaked bangs away from a delicate face, to stare into glassy blue-too fucking blue-eyes. He doesn’t blame Frank. For the drugs or for the other man. Relapse for someone like him was inevitable. And they’ve never fully defined what they were. Robby’s mistake and he would remedy that. He pulled a collar from his glove box. It’s been sitting there for a while, waiting for the right time. Tonight was perfect.
“m sorry, Robby, had a bad day. Reeeaal bad. ‘s good now though, like cotton candy.” Frank smiles, bright and brittle. “Sweeter.”
Robby nods as if he understands and kisses him. Easily looping the collar around that tantalizing neck. “It’s okay Frankie. I’m here.”
He has a room already laid out for him back home. Sound proof, keypad lock on the outside, a working sink and toilet. It only took him a few weeks to get it ready. Because Robby knows addicts, and he’s also a damn good doctor. He would fix this one. Because this one was his. Even if he had to control every aspect of Frank’s life he would make that sacrifice. Because that’s what love was. Being there for him, supporting him. Healing him.
Frank wouldn’t see it that way at first. It would be a hard learning curve. But his boy would adapt. He was bright. Brighter than a dying star.
Ser Francis, Hound of the Pitt, returns from his journey of cleansing his body and soul, and to beg for forgiveness from his Lord Robinavitch, who grants it.
AKA I create an AU so Robby has to accept Frank’s apology.
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