My The Pitt stuff idk

They're so … outraged, when they find him on the eighth floor. At first, he's ready to be scolded for doing something wrong, breaking the rules. He knows how this go. He'll take his licks. 

But the outrage isn't … directed at him? 

It's the fact that he's been up here, without asking for help. That he's been without a home for - God, he doesn't know how long by this point. 

"I can - I'll find a shelter," he promises them, because he really can't fuck up this rotation, not one day in. "Just don't tell, please." 

They share an incredulous glance. 

"You're coming home with us," Robby says, firm, no-nonsense. 

So he goes home with them. 

He tries to leave, at first. Work out some other arrangement, that won't have him fucking squattig in the married attendings' home. But he was on the eighth floor for a reason. There aren't a lot of other options. 

They refuse to let him go, anyway. 

"For God's sake, kid, we have the space, and we like having you here," Jack gripes, the twentieth time he tries to bring up finding someplace else to go. 

"Whit," Robby says softly, the thirtieth time he tries. "We're a couple of old queers, okay? We couldn't have kids. Let us just - enjoy it for a bit." 

And that has him flushing red. He's not their kid. He's not even a kid. He's a fully grown man, who has legal guardians, parents on paper. A 'couple of old queers' who love him a whole lot more than his real parents ever did. Treat him better. 

He stays. 

Nothing changes at work, which he appreciates. He gets to keep learning and growing, fulfilling the requirements of his degree. Helping people. He gets more and more comfortable, skilled enough to do things on his own. 

He wonders, is this what it feels like to have parents who believe in you? 

The two old men, though. They change. It's like they don't think he's capable of taking care of himself, which he damn well is. He's been taking care of himself for years. He put himself through med school, he turned his back on Nebraska, he worked his ass off while living on the streets. 

It's not like he's some helpless child. 

But Robby, he starts packing Dennis a lunch, alongside his own. They have the same reheated leftovers, but Dennis gets a treat in his. Some pastry, or freshly cut strawberries. Once, he included a note, and it reminded Dennis of things he's seen in movies. 

Good luck with your first day in psych, kid. 

Dennis kept the note. It lives in his bedside table. So do all the ones that keep coming, tucked away in his packed lunch. 

Jack finds out that he's never hit a baseball, and is outraged. Dennis tries to tell him - I played Little League, I'm not totally bereft of athleticism - but Jack will have none of it. 

He takes Dennis to a batting cage and insists on teaching him how to hit a damn ball, at least once. 

It feels … strange. It's fun, for sure. He hits the ball on the third try, and Jack's whoop of delight and pride fills him with pleasure. 

It's just. The man in the cage over, is with his son. His ten-year old son. 

"Guess they never get too old, huh?" he says to Jack with a grin, nodding at Dennis, who's trying to perfect his accuracy. 

Jack grins right back. 

"Never too old to smack a ball around with your old man," he says, and when Dennis steps back from the plate, ruffles his hair. 

He can feel his cheeks flaming. 

"What the fuck was that?" he hisses, when the man goes back to his son. 

Jack laughs. 

"Oh, settle. Just a little joke. You are my son, y'know, on paper," he says with a smirk. 

Dennis' stomach turns over, and he has to work not to have his fingers tremble on the bat. 

"On paper," he repeats, firm. "Not for real." 

"Well." 

Robby finds it hilarious when they're home and Jack has relayed the story. Traitor. 

And now, they won't drop it. They ruffle his hair more, all fatherly and affectionate. When he graduates, they're the ones cheering the loudest. He can hear Jack shout that's my boy, and he wants to fucking die. They put his diploma on the fridge with coloured magnets, and leave it there for months. 

The worst of it, though, is that they. will. not. stop. calling. him. son. 

"Son, grab me my leg, will you?" 

"Hey, nice work today, son, proud of you." 

"I swear to God, son, show some respect for your elders." 

He thinks he's going insane. 

It's not fair. They're crossing all his wires. He likes being cared for. He likes the open love they have for him. He even likes knowing they took on legal responsibility for him. 

But he also lays in bed, listening to the distant sound of moans from their bedroom, and touches himself. Every glimpse of bare skin, and there's a lot of in their apartment, is catalogued in his mind, and drives him fucking wild. 

He wants. 

But they're … off-limits, aren't they? They're his - weird father-like friends. 

He can't fuck the men who keep calling him son. 

It's drugs, that get him in the end. Of course. He's never been especially good at keeping shit together on anything harder than weed. Trinity gives him some molly when they're out celebrating her birthday, and damn, it hits hard. Like, really hard. 

He stumbles home, in an Uber that Javadi and McKay put him in, after he'd tried to tell a complete stranger that he loved his Dads, like sooooooo much. 

He's light-headed and a little dizzy, and it felt great earlier, he was so full of energy and love and light. Now, though, he's starting to feel kinda - bleh. 

When he makes it through the front door, they're sitting up, waiting for him. 

Jack raises a brow, at the state of him. 

"And what time do you call this, young man?" he jokes, mock-stern. 

It goes straight to Dennis' dick, and that distresses him even more. 

"I don't feel great," he mumbles, and then he's falling into Jack's arms, pathetic and small and coming down bad. 

"Oh, kiddo," Jack murmurs, rubbing circles over his back. "Went a little too hard, huh?" 

He nods against Jack's chest. Everything feels so much better here. Warmer. He feels safe in Jack's arms. 

"Well, I hope you've learned a valuable lesson," Robby says, and then he's on Dennis' other side, and how did he move that fast, maybe he's still kinda high. "Only take the drugs your fathers approve of." 

Jack snorts with laughter, but Dennis looks up, indignant. 

"You have to stop that!" he exclaims, all hot in the face and pissed off. 

"Stop what?" 

"This! That! The - father and son, and kiddo, and fucking - it's too much!" he bursts out. It's not the whole truth, and not coming out the way he wanted. "You're not my Dads." 

They have the audacity to actually look hurt. 

"Right," Robby says, a little tight. "We'll stop." 

It doesn't help. He feels just as weird and sad as before. 

He growls in frustration, and rolls his eyes. 

"You have to stop, because - " 

And he kisses Jack, the first time, the first kiss, hard. 

For a horrible second, he thinks Jack is going to push him off. He's not kissing back. But then, a strong arm wraps around his waist, and fuck. Now, he's being kissed back. 

"God, finally," he moans into Dennis' mouth. "We were starting to think you'd never get there." 

Dennis goes to retort, but Robby's hand catches his jaw and drags Dennis' mouth over to his own, licking into his mouth like he's starving for it. 

"This does not," Robby tells him between kisses. "Mean we have to stop, son." 

Dennis shudders, reverberating all the way through his body. Fuck. 

"Oh, see," Jack coos into his ear. "You like it, don't you? Hm? Like being taken care of, by your Dads?"

His only reply is a high, desperate moan. 

"I think we can take that as a yes, brother," Jack laughs, and goddamn it, that's got him twitching, too. 

He's so fucked up. 

"I don't - I don't know which I want more," he whines. Something inside him is breaking. He's going to have to choose between the two things that have brought him the most joy. 

"What do you mean, kid?" Robby asks, frowning, pulling back. 

"I like that you act like my Dads," he whimpers, a little embarrassed. "I - you're so good to me. And it's so nice, and I don't want it to stop. But I also really want to fuck you, and we can't do both, and - " 

He's cut off by a hand over his mouth. 

"Whoever said we can't do both?" Robby purrs. His heart thumps. "You're telling me you don't want your Dad to fuck you so hard you scream? Jack, he's telling me I'm not allowed to suck my little boy's cock." 

Jack's brow furrows, and he shakes his head. 

"I just don't know about these kids, Robby," he replies. His tone is dripping with condescension, and fuck, it snaps Dennis right out of the haze he's been in. "It's like they don't know why their Daddies even had them." 

 It's deranged, and obscene, and Dennis is leaking in his pants. 

"Oh, fuck, okay, please," he begs against Robby's hand. 

"Language," Jack scolds. 

With Robby, he doesn't have to reign anything in. Robby wants to know where he is all the time. He messages Dennis three times in a row to ensure that he really got it, he's seen it, he knows just how cared for and thought about he is.  

When Dennis sends photos, he knows they're being saved into a locked folder for later use. That when he sends footage, that he took, not just the cameras he puts on a show for every now and then, that Robby salivates over it. Watches his domestic little spy-cam films over and over. 

Judging by the way he fucks Dennis afterwards, Dennis has deduced that the videos of him doing the most mundane things, in nothing more than one of Robby's shirts, are the older man's favourites. 

All his fantasies are being slowly fulfilled. Having Robby stand over him and cover him in cum. Being plugged at work, and knowing that Robby's the only one who can, and will, take it out of him. 

But, he's desperate to wake up already full, and that, that hasn't happened yet. He doesn't know why. Robby had sure seemed into it. But he just … hasn't done anything about it, yet. 

Well, Dennis is going to do something about it. 

"Sucks for Trin," he mentions, casual, while they're watching some poor bastard's v-tach turn to asystole. "She's working on Friday." 

Robby gives him a sideways glance. 

"Thought you two were attached at the hip. How'd she end up on, and you're off?" he asks, and Dennis can tell by the faintest tone of his voice that he's thinking. 

"Just unlucky, I guess," he shrugs. 

Unlucky his ass. 

He batted his eyelashes at Abbot and got the schedule changed. 

"Does mean I get to sleep in properly, though," he adds. Asystole, one long beeping line, not responding to shock, after shock. "Without her thumping around the kitchen." 

Robby just looks at him, hungry, and he knows he's getting his way. 

If he takes half an Ambien before bed on Thursday night, well. He doesn't want to wake immediately. That'd be no fun. 

He leaves the front door locked this time. He knows Robby can pick it, and it's nice to give the man a little challenge. 

He considers putting on something pretty, to entice Robby, but in the end, he wants the man to have full access to him. He doesn't want Robby to feel like he's put any barriers between them. Even silk. 

He falls asleep easy, aided by chemicals, and fantasising about exactly how sore he'll be in the morning. 

He had been planning on saving this for their six-month anniversary, but it's clear his sweet boy needs it badly. Needs it before Robby was going to give it to him, and well. 

He can't deny that. 

He could pick this lock with his eyes shut, at this point. Fiddling with the pin and hearing the click is like seeing an old friend. So too, is side-stepping the pile of Santos' laundry that just - never seems to move. 

Unlike the first time he did this, when he enters Dennis' bedroom, he can see the kid is asleep. Deeply asleep, it looks like. He slinks closer, just in case, but he can see the steady rise and fall of his chest. Pink, perfect mouth slightly open, the way it always is when he's sleeping. 

Fuck. 

He strips off his clothes, unhurried. There's no rush here. Dennis isn't awake, isn't pleading and needy. Robby can do whatever he likes. 

Robby can do. Whatever. He likes. 

It's a heady rush. 

He kneels at the end of the bed, ignoring the way the mattress creaks, and presses a kiss to Dennis' bare ankle, before spreading his legs gently. He parts so easy, like this. Somehow easier than when he's awake, even when he's dripping and crying and begging for it. 

He's so … small. Quiet. Pliant. 

"Beautiful boy," Robby murmurs, and licks his way across Dennis' skin. Noses into his pits and inhales deep. Still no movement, nothing beyond a gentle shifting in his sleep, moving with Robby. 

Robby suspects he's taken something to aid with the staying asleep, and, God, it's just so thoughtful. He fucking loves his boy. 

Dennis is too ticklish to let him do this awake, lick and suck at every bit of sensitive skin. Lave at the parts of him that smell most like him - pits and belly and the crease of his inguinal nerve. It's indulgent, to be able to devour him like this, uninhibited. 

He finally has his fill, his tongue deliciously overwhelmed by Dennis. He's hard, has been for a long while. It's not much more than a distraction when he's so focused on the boy, but now, he could use a little relief. 

This might be a bit much, might wake Dennis before he's really ready for the kid to wake, but. Goddamn it, he's just splayed out, on his back, so sweet and perfect, and Robby has to. 

He straddles the boy's body, up high on his chest, his balls pressed to smooth skin, and feeds his cock into the kid's open mouth. 

For a second, as Dennis shifts beneath him, he thinks - oh no, I've blown it - but Dennis just huffs out a breath against him, a sleep-snuffle, and slumbers on. 

Thank God for whatever it was he took. Jesus. 

It's not a blowjob, really. Dennis can't suck, while he's asleep, but knowing that almost makes it better. He just gently rocks into the kid's mouth, hot and wet, lax. It's fucked up, sure, but he's getting off on it all the same. 

He's glad the cameras are recording (always). Dennis will want to see this. 

Finally, when he can't quite take it anymore, he clambers off, leaving Dennis' lips slick wit precum, and settles between his legs again. He takes his time opening the boy up - Dennis has never, not once, done it for him again, not since he was told not to. 

One finger is nothing for Dennis, but two, that gets the first little moan. Not awake, not really. Just a sleepy little sound of pleasure. Robby grins, delighted. He'll be doing this again, definitely. 

Three fingers, and the kid is squirming against him. Robby didn't know he could still be asleep and squirming. Not outside of a nightmare. And this, this is no nightmare. 

When he slides his cock inside, a stretch even with all that prep, he groans, low. Fuck, no resistance. Nothing. Dennis doesn't even twitch. Just lies, perfect, still, sleeping. He didn't know this would turn him on this much. 

He lifts the kid's legs experimentally, rests them on his shoulders, and there they stay. Like moving a doll. 

It's only when he starts fucking into Dennis in earnest, hard deep strokes, that finally, he begins to stir. 

"Mrrm?" 

It's a confused, bleary little sound. Three quarters sleep, one wakeful. He fucks in harder, grunting and keeping his grip on the kid's legs, so he can't move when he wakes more. 

"Oh," Dennis sighs, his eyes fluttering. His own cock is twitching against his belly. "Robby." 

"Mm, but can't be sure, can you?" Robby murmurs, dark. "Not until you open your eyes. And there'd be nothing you could do about it, baby. Already inside you." 

He watches precum ooze and dribble from the head of the kid's cock. God, he's good. 

"R-Robby," Dennis whines. He does not open his eyes. 

When Robby cums, with a vicious thrust, he turns them onto their sides, cradling Dennis with his lager body, nosing at the back of his neck. Once he's covered back up with the duvet, held tight, Dennis' breath evens out again. He hasn't even cum. He shows no signs of wanting to. 

"Oh, sleepy little boy," Robby purrs, and moves his hips slightly to pull out. 

Dennis grumbles, though it's blurry and fuzzy with the encroaching wave of sleep dragging him back again. 

"Stay," he mutters, barely audible. 

Smiling, Robby grinds his hips against the kid's ass, staying firmly seated inside him. He receives a happy purr for it, and then Dennis is sleeping again, entirely, in his arms. 

This one, he likes. This one is much, much more handsome than anyone else his mother has managed to bring home. Good for her, he thinks. How'd you manage that, Mom? 

He's a doctor, and wow, that's so cool. It makes Dennis think … maybe I should change my major. Maybe, actually, I want to be like Robby. The man is kind, and interested in Dennis. He's not put out that his new girlfriend's adult son lives with her, is around most of the time. He'll sit at the kitchen table and explain what it's like working in an emergency department. He'll talk through procedures and what med school is like. 

Dennis is entranced. 

He's known that he's queer for a long time, but beyond some disappointing sex with boys his age, he's never really been that interested in fucking around. 

He realises, now, that going after boys his age was his mistake. Obviously, he needs a man. A real man, like Robby. Someone older and willing to teach him everything he wants to know. Someone with scruff and a bit of a belly, and crows feet and the faintest hint of gray in his hair. 

Why look for someone just like that when there's one right here, in his house? Someone perfect. 

His mother is delighted that Dennis likes Robby so much. Over the moon that she's finally found a nice guy that gets on with her kid. 

She has no idea, and Dennis has no plans in informing her. Does he feel a little guilty that he's lusting after his mother's boyfriend? Look, a little, but not enough to stop. 

Robby spends nights, more and more, over at their place. Dennis knows they're having sex, Robby and his mother. He can hear it through the walls sometimes. It's strange. He doesn't want to hear his Mom getting off, but damn, he sure does enjoy the sound of Robby's distant grunts and moans. 

If he touches himself imagining that it's him that Robby's fucking into, well. 

That's his business. 

It becomes standard, in the mornings, for Dennis to run into a half-dressed Robby in the kitchen. 

"Hey, kid," the man had said, sheepish, the first time. Dennis had shot him a flat look, and ate his cereal beside the man at the table. 

"Nice night?" he'd asked, innocent, raising his brows. 

Robby choked on his toast. 

Now, it's less awkward, and Dennis looks forward to it every time. Getting the chance to see Robby's bare chest, hairy and gorgeous and sometimes flushed. The shape of his belly, just poking out from under his sweats. 

Now that Robby is spending more and more time here, has all but moved in, he leaves clothes lying around. He has a drawer in Dennis' mother's room. When they're both out at work, Dennis sneaks in there and rifles through that drawer. There's plenty he could take, that he'd like to take - underwear, for one - but he has plans. 

The first time he walks around, lazily, in Robby's well-worn sweats slung low on his hips, he watches the way the man's eyes follow him around the room. Glued to him. A thrill runs down his spine. Yes, good, look. Look at him. See him. 

"Are those my - ?" Robby asks, but cuts off when Dennis looks over at him, all big eyes and sweet questioning face. 

"Your?" 

"Uh. Never mind." 

Robby moves in, formally, and now, they're together all the time. He's always around. It's hell and heaven. Dennis has an unending supply of the man he so desperately wants, and cannot have. Can't touch. It's torture. 

He learns the man's schedule. He starts early, way earlier than Dennis would ever usually be awake, but he can make sacrifices. He sets his alarm privately for 5am, and uses the quiet of the house, his mother still asleep, to peek through the sliver of the bathroom door left open so the room doesn't get so steamy. 

It's just the right amount for Dennis to have a perfect view of a nude, showering Robby. His mouth waters, every time. He thinks about just stripping off and getting in with him, seeing what happens, how Robby would react, but. 

No, he doesn't want to risk it. 

He rubs himself through his boxers, watching Robby wash every inch of bare skin, lather up his beard and rinse it clean. His cock, Christ. It's bigger than anything Dennis has ever seen outside of porn. It's thick, and hangs heavy between Robby's legs.

Jeez, Mom, he thinks. How are you taking all that? 

Then he kind of wants to rinse his mind clean. This is a mind-fuck. 

He snaps a few photos, through the crack in the door. They're not great, they're not awesome quality, but they're enough for him to jerk off to every night. A glimpse of thick cock and strong thighs and plump, juicy ass. 

His mother sits him down one evening while Robby's still at work. 

"Sweetheart, I need to talk to you about something," she says, serious, and his heart races. 

Oh, fuck, has he been caught? Surely not. She'd be losing her shit if she knew. 

"Yeah?" he asks, nervous. 

"Well, you know Rob and I have been together for a while now," she starts. She looks nervous too. "And - you like him, and I think that's just great. The thing is, he's - asked me to marry him." 

She looks so emotional. 

He feels a thrill of - something. 

"Are you gonna say yes?" he says, careful. 

She nods. 

"But, only if you're okay with it. I don't want you to feel like you're being excluded, or - well, he loves you too, and I think it would be so nice for us all to be a family," she adds. 

So does Dennis. 

"Of course I'm okay with it, Mom," he replies, warm, smiling. "He's a great guy." 

"And I know how you feel about having a replacement father," she says hurriedly. "He's not trying to be that!" 

Dennis swallows hard. 

"I don't know. He's nice. I'd be kinda okay with him being my Dad." 

She bursts into tears. He has to hide his boner. 

After that, it's easier to … plan. 

His mother joins the church choir, and she spends half her evenings at rehearsals. It leaves Robby and Dennis at home together, alone. 

Dennis lounges on the sofa, wearing the sweats he's never given back, and an old, nearly threadbare Placebo t-shirt he found in Robby's drawer. 

The man has never said another word about Dennis slyly taking his clothes. Wearing them in plain sight. But he does look. A lot. 

More often than not, Dennis can feel the man's eyes on him. He stops wearing underwear. Lets the sweats sit lower and lower on his hips, so the very top of the line of his ass is visible. Just a peek. 

He knows he's a certain type of hot. Young, lithe, sweet. He plays it up. 

"Shouldn't you be out with your friends?" Robby asks him one night, when they're both sitting on the sofa, watching the Penguins get demolished. "It's Friday night." 

He shrugs. 

"I'd rather be here. With you," he says sweetly, and gives Robby a sidelong glance. 

The man is just the tiniest bit flushed. 

"You're only young once," Robby tells him, not looking away from the screen. "You should be - out there, getting drunk and smoking weed and hooking up." 

Dennis laughs. 

"I mean, if you want to get me high?" he suggests with a smirk. 

"I am not getting my wife's barely legal son high," he drawls. 

Dennis cocks his head to the side. 

"I've been legal for two years, thank you. Interesting that you're thinking about it," he purrs. 

Robby goes stiff. 

"Anyway, you're married now. I thought I was your son, too," Dennis adds. 

It's maybe a step too far, because Robby goes red, and stands abruptly. 

"I gotta hit the head," he says, and disappears down the hall. 

Damn it. 

The next time, he's more careful about it. 

He lets some frat boy leave hickies up all and down his neck, before pushing him off before he could get into Dennis' pants. 

"Thanks, champ," he'd said, patting the boy's cheek and leaving him with blue balls. He'd got what he needed. 

When he gets home, his mother still at church, and Robby sees the litany of bruises, he pales. 

"What the - " 

His voice is a growl. 

Dennis widens his eyes. 

"What? I thought you wanted me to - what was it? Go out and hook up?" 

He's got a plug in. Has for hours. Opened himself up knowing that he was going to enact this plan tonight, just in case it works out and he can taunt Robby into finally, finally taking him. 

"You look like a whore, kid," Robby snaps. 

Dennis takes one step closer, cocking his head. 

"That's not very nice, Dad," he purrs. 

Robby's eyes flash, and then he's moving fast, shoving Dennis up against the wall hard and kissing him so viciously his teeth might actually pierce Dennis' lips. 

Triumph and desire course through him, and he moans, opening for Robby so fucking easy. 

"Fuck, yes," he breathes, and slides both hands under the older man's shirt. Finally, finally. He's warm and soft but there's nothing soft about the way he's forcefully yanking Dennis' jeans down, spinning him round so his face is pressed into the wall, smushed hard. 

"You little fucking tease," Robby's snarling into his ear, dark. Dennis might cum just from this. "You think I haven't seen what you've been doing? Parading around in front of me? In my clothes?" 

Dennis stands up on his toes to clench his ass better, and bends at the hips just slightly, offering himself up. 

"Took you long enough," he sighs, and moaning deep when Robby's fingers brush over the plug in his ass. 

"What the hell is this?" the man murmurs, but before Dennis can answer, it's being pulled out of him, merciless, and Robby's cock is grinding against his empty hole. 

"Fuck," he hisses, pushing his hips back eagerly. "Oh, God, please, fuck me." 

"You just make it so easy," Robby spits, and then he's pushing inside, cock slick with spit and lube from Dennis' leaking hole. It's still a hell of a stretch, a burn. It fucking hurts, but then, he bottoms out, and Dennis is so full he thinks he might cry. 

"Yes, fuck, God, Dad, fuck me, move, come on," he whines, and he can feel Robby's cock twitch inside him. He snaps his hips back and forward, hard, the force of it throwing Dennis back into the wall. 

"I am not - " Robby starts, but it cuts off into a low groan as he finds a rhythm, fucking Dennis rough and deep. 

"But - you - oh fuck - are," Dennis pants, his eyes rolling back in his head. "On paper." 

"You're fucked up, kid," Robby grunts, and Dennis can hear every bit of dark want in his voice. 

"No more than you," he counters, breathless. "You're fucking your wife's son, and loving it." 

Robby moans, and then Dennis' head is being pushed, hard, into the wall, his cheek mashed against it under Robby's large hand. 

"Been wanting this for fucking months," he mutters into Dennis' neck. "Fucking cocktease. Should have made you mine from the beginning." 

Dennis might be a young man -  young, dumb and full of cum - but he can't help the fierce wave of arousal and want and ohgodfuckyesplease that washes over him, coming untouched against the wall. 

"Yeah?" Robby sneers, still fucking into him so hard that Dennis' wobbling knees struggle to hold him up. "You like that? You wanted it too, didn't you? Wanted me to put you on my cock like a good boy and fill you up." 

"Yes, yes, yes, I told Mom to - to marry you so you wouldn't leave," he admits, panting hard. "So you'd be my Dad. So I could have you." 

Robby makes the most delicious sound he's ever heard, and then he's cumming inside Dennis, hot and filthy and hard. 

After that, Dennis keeps himself open and ready, every day, so Robby can drag him over the back of the sofa, the kitchen bench, push him onto his hands and knees on the bed and fuck him whenever he likes. 

People start to comment on how sweet it is that they have such a good relationship. They're so close. It's nice to see that blood doesn't have to be the defining factor of family. 

Dennis starts calling Robby Dad, and his mother beams with pride. Robby will throw out son here and there, and when they go out together alone, no-one knows they're not really father and son. 

His mother wants them to stay in one Saturday night, so grateful that her grown-up boy doesn't mind spending time with his parents still, and watch some movie she's been eager to see. 

Dennis waits until she's in the kitchen getting popcorn, and crawls into Robby's lap, sinking down onto his cock and facing the television. The man has to muffle his moan, hips bucking up before settling. 

"What are you - she'll see," he hisses, but Dennis just wriggles his ass until he's comfortable. 

"She won't if you keep your shit together," he whispers. He's just having a snuggle, with his Dad. Nothing wrong with that. He didn't have a Dad for so long, Mom, he's making up for lost time. 

She doesn't even bat a goddamn eye. They're both still fully clothed, and his mother's a modest enough lady that she leaves space between them on the sofa. Nothing too affectionate or improper in front of Dennis, after all. 

He's wearing loose shorts, because it's summer, it's hot, and he's just at home, it's fine. They're conveniently easy to pull to the side and let Robby push his cock inside. Hidden. 

Dennis laughs in all the right places throughout the film, and the movement gives both him and Robby a little shock of pleasure. He can feel the tightening of the man's thighs beneath him, the struggle not to fuck up into him. 

"You," Robby murmurs into his ear, very quietly, on the side his mother isn't on. "Are a filthy little boy."