hi hey hi

he liked to think he was pretty good at it. no one could ever tell, or at least no one had ever called him out on it. he made the right noises, tensed the right body parts, held his mouth open in a particular way.

it was fine. it really didn’t bother him. it wasn’t anyone’s fault that he just never got there. he couldn’t even make himself finish, how was he supposed to expect other people to?

robby knew immediately.

it just felt…wrong. it wasn’t genuine. it was too conveniently timed and at a much too showy volume. robby let him get away with it a couple times, hoping as they became more familiar with each other, dennis would either start enjoying himself more or trust that he could be honest.

that didn’t happen.

after about two months of this, in the afterglow (well, robby’s afterglow), robby suggested, “you don’t have to fake it with me. you know that, right?”

i submit for this au: the idea of meltdown vs tantrum :3

meltdowns are normal for little boys who have Big Emotions about his dads leaving him for work, about having to take a bath or go to bed without his favorite blanket. they can be solved by giving dennis a stuffed bear that has his dad's voice in one arm and his daddy's in the other so he can still hear their voices if he misses one of them. they can be solved by his daddy holding him close and cuddling him, dennis listening to his heartbeat and the vibrations of his voice. they can be solved by his dad keeping dennis in his lap, feeding him with the baby-safe utensils dennis has to settle for and pausing only to clean his face or kiss him. it's about the comfort and reminder that he's safe and oh so loved by his dads here.

but Tantrums...those are saved for truly bad days where dennis can't bottle anything up anymore, swiping at any arms that come close to him and working himself up over everyone and everything he misses that he's supposed to just forget about. missing trinity and her apartment (having his own ROOM all to himself where no one watches him and it locks from the inside!!) so much he makes himself physically ill. he misses seeing her, having someone who cared about him and Didn't want some fucked up dynamic out of it...the idea that robby and jack---actively policing his thoughts to make sure he doesn't slip in remembering who they Really are---can go into work and not feel haunted or guilty at what they're putting trinity through by dennis just being Gone all of a sudden...he thinks he might hate them for that. coming out of the fuzzy daze and ache celebrating father's day gave him and remembering his Actual father---feeling disgusted at himself for not trying harder to escape---for feeling Comfortable at points. those are all meltdown thought patterns and those can go for hours or an entire day. sharp displeasure and anxiety that leave his tongue with intent to hurt or just be Heard... or the equally heavy sullen withdrawn dead weight where Nothing seems to make dennis feel better, or even respond at all.

meltdowns are more frequent than tantrums, thankfully.

EXACTLY EXACTLYYYY

Cocky, arrogant Robby stretching Dennis open with his large, worn hands whispering in the boy’s ear how tight he is, how he better make Robby feel good, better put all that youth to work. Prove he’s worthy of a man like Robby’s time.

He pushes a tired Whitaker to his knees in the middle of his kitchen after the resident comes home from a long shift. Takes his cock out. “Night’s not over yet, baby. You don’t want me to go to bed hard, do you? You’re young, you can go a little longer.”

The way Robby would man handle Dennis, dragging him around by the neck as they grocery shop, do yard work, clean up the house, go to farmers markets, etc., like he’s some kid that he’s hauling around, showing the “proper” way to do things.

The way he’d sit on a lawn chair in worn blue jeans, shirtless, hairy chest and belly out, bottle of beer in hand as he lazed back and watched Whitaker do all the yard work. He’d make Dennis do it shirt less. Yelling comments out here and there correcting his form and technique. He’d pull Dennis into his lap afterwards, handsy as hell, hand slipping down the boy’s back and into his underwear, fingers probing for his hole as Dennis squirmed on his lap. “Fuck, your skin is so smooth, kid. Out there teasing me like that, want this old man to see how young you are, don’t you? Showing off like that. Didn’t your Dad teach you not to be such a little slut? You want me to be your Daddy, that it Whitaker? Speak, son, I’m asking you a question.”

But Dennis can’t hardly speak bcuz Robby’s shoving half-dry fingers into his hole, slick only from the sweat they’d glazed off his own back on their way down. All he can do is let his head fall into the crook of Robby’s neck and choke on a whine.

Robby grabbing an oblivious Dennis by the arm when he arrives home just 10 minutes late and hauling him into their bedroom, folding him over his knees and yanking the kid’s pants down. Dennis’ face flushed red as he scrambles to try to pull his pants back up, embarrassed. But Robby lands a hard smack on his bottom, callused palms from years of work landing hard as he teaches Dennis a lesson for being late, how kids these days don’t respect time and don’t take responsibility. But it’s alright, that’s what men like Robby are here for, to lead the next generation. And he spanks Dennis red until he lubes up his fingers, slipping them in a little further with each spank…

Robby, smug, as Dennis crawls up the bed, doe eyes hungry and pathetic as he begs to suck Robby’s big, heavy, fat cock. Whitaker crawling up further, resting his cheek on Robby’s belly, biting his lip and nearly whimpering as the man’s grizzled hair rubs against his cheek. Please, please, please he begs, tho mouthing at the older man’s round belly.

Robby has the resident wrapped around his finger. The kid is obsessed with him, always eager to please, always willing to obey no matter how tired he is. And Robby loves it. Loves how easy Dennis is in every way. The kid is in his mid-20’s. Anyone close to Robby’s age wouldn’t put up with or do even half the shit Robby asks and does to Dennis.

Wolfishly, Robby scruffs the back of Dennis’ neck to get him to stop squirming on his belly. Dennis goes still like a pup. “Get to it then, kid. It’s not going to suck itself.”

This feels a little like a prequel to my previous post haha :)

no one assumed robby was a sub.

he was fearless in his dissents. he did not cower in the face of aggression. he did not melt under the effusive praise from relieved family members, nor the stern chastisements from admin. no one at work knew he was a sub. shit, heather and janey had always just assumed he was neutral. it wasn’t a lie. he did not mislead anyone, but he allowed the assumptions. the stereotypes were in his favor, for once.

no one assumed dennis was a dom.

he had big, searching eyes. he shrunk when confronted. he blushed and stammered when complimented. he simply did not project the casual dominance expected of his designation.

it didn’t come up at work much. designations were personal. some people were more casual about the information than others, but it was uncouth the ask. there was the occasional emergency that made them relevant, but outside of the rare improper use of a dominant’s voice or an impromptu drop, it was generally not germane to the work day.

robby was dropping. fuck, he was dropping hard.

it felt pathetic to admit that it all started with gloria admonishing him for his department’s press-ganey scores, but that really was the inciting incident. robby felt his chest hitch, his shoulders drew up to his ears, and his fingers started to fidget with that loose thread in his jacket pocket. words like failure and fuck-up swirled in his head. he could get through the day, though. he’d gotten through worse.

and then someone asked about adamson. and then he lost a twenty year old kid who just wanted to backflip into a pool to impress a girl. and then he got blood all over his scrubs and his neck.

and then dennis found robby on the floor again, this time in a curtained off bay, on his knees, whimpering and trying to wash the arterial spray off with some half-dry wet wipes.

dennis didn’t seem like a dom when he was just walking around the pitt, but the way his voice got all even and deep, the way he cooed out oh, honey. what’s wrong? as he slowly approached robby, was nothing if not obviously revealing.

bonus: