18+, discussions of cnc/noncon, no sexually explicit content, light angst, huckleabbot
"It's flattering, I don't know," Dennis crossed his arms over his chest, a tense discomfort in his chest, threatening to claw up into his throat.
Jack looked at him, disbelief written across his face, only barely contained. Usually he seemed good at being all nonchalant. Not now, though.
Dennis swallowed thickly, and sat back slightly in the recliner. Jack's recliner, in Jack's apartment, because he was supposed to come over for a fifth date. Dinner and a movie, that devolved into discussing light sexual preferences. Hadn't stayed light, unfortunately.
"I just…" Jack's eyes flickered up to the ceiling. His fingers, laced together, tightened, and he exhaled, head wavering slightly as he seemed to think of what to say. "I mean, consensual is one thing. Are you… wanting it consensually? Imagining it, being consensual?"
Dennis shrugged, defensive on the edges. "I don't know. It's- it's not about consent. It's about…" he faltered. "Being wanted enough that they wouldn't take my 'no' for an answer. Desirability."
Jack stared at him, something slightly helpless running across his eyes. Dennis burned, ached, and cindered with humiliation.
"If we aren't compatible there, then we don't have to do anything with it," Dennis sniffled, biting back reactive, embarrassed tears. "I know it's extreme."
"I mean," Jack blinked a few times. His freckled cheeks were visibly flushed, even in the dim lighting of the apartment. "We could do it that way, consensually. Just play pretend."
Dennis eyes cast to the ground. He sighed, head shaking slightly from side to side. "Just forget about it. It's not a necessary part of sex for me. Just- just an addition that I like, from time-to-time."
"I want to understand it, though," Jack scooted forward, perching on the edge of the couch. "If we, y'know, pursue this more. Don't bury it. Let's talk more. Like- when did it start?"
Dennis shook his head firmly, exhaling a thin, humorless laugh. "Just forget about it. It's a weird thing to like, we don't need to dissect it." He couldn't meet Jack's eyes. He didn't want to know what was hiding in them.
Thunder crackled outside. Dennis hadn't checked the forecast--was it due to rain? That'd be a pain when he got the hell out of here, and ran to the nearest bus stop.
"Dennis," Jack's voice lilted on a bed. "Dens. Please. Talk to me about it."
"No," Dennis couldn't help but bite. He wanted this conversation to be over. "Let's just watch a movie, or I can go home. I don't want to talk about it anymore."
Jack wilted, exhaling softly. "Okay," he murmured after a moment. "Movie. Stay for a while longer, okay?"
Dennis swallowed, and nodded, turning his attention to the TV. His stomach coiled hotly, and he willed it to cool down, settle. His heart thudded in his hands, and he held himself tighter. Hopefully, Jack would let this fall to the wayside.
Knowing Jack, though, that'd never happen.
