PLSSS perv x perv Robby and Dennis ANDMY LIFE IS YOURSSS
YOU GET ME. Write one of my favorite things? Done and done.
One of the unexpected benefits of Dennis's full-on existential crisis upon moving to Pittsburgh and leaving behind a lifetime of Evangelical indoctrination is the discovery of all things hedonistic.
Anything vaguely pleasurable had equaled hell, plain and simple, for most of Dennis's life. So he'd cried himself raw about the rainbow-colored secret he kept tucked taut in the farthest corner of his mind, bit his nails until they bled to keep his hands off of himself during puberty, and prayed, prayed, prayed for deliverance.
Deliverance had looked a little different than he'd imagined. In fact, it'd looked so different that he'd almost missed it. It had taken the form of his forbidden-fruit Jewish attending with warm brown eyes and raging PTSD. His attraction to Dr. Robby had stolen quietly into his brain until it had him mildly on fire, a strange internal fever. This had sent Dennis spiraling down the fucking rabbit hole of all rabbit holes.
Once Dennis had realized he'd been raised in the vocal minority and the vast majority of people didn't really seem to give a shit about sin and damnation and in fact, held regular Pride events for people just like him, he lost it a little bit. Grieved a life he could have had. And then he got back up a different person.
That was when the doors opened before him.
It's like puberty all over again, but this time he lets himself learn. Gets swept away in the current of curiosity and the safety of Trinity Santos' VPN. And once Trinity gets wise that he has Grindr on his phone, he gets both a makeover and spectacularly, world-rockingly fucked up at the gay bar in the Strip District.
From there? Well, he enjoys his fall from grace.
He shed his timid med student church mouse cocoon and emerged a steady, healthily lean-muscled certified fucking freak. Gone were the days of wearing a crucifix and hoping the Robby-induced flutters in his stomach would tire themselves out. Now, he finds himself drifting as he charts, imagining what it would be like to look up at Robby from underneath him and suck his Magen David into his mouth. What that would do to him. What Robby would do to him in return.
Is Robby a leather guy? Does he like his boots blacked? Does he like his partners bratty or more of a 'good boy?' Is he into pup stuff? Bondage? He watches Robby sanitize his hands for the millionth time that morning and realizes he's gotten a little ahead of himself. Is Robby even... into men? Should have been his first question.
"Gross." Trinity sits down dramatically in the office chair next to him. "Close your mouth, at least. Christ."
"Shut up," Dennis says, embarrassment pooling in his gut, and goes back to charting. Trinity.... does not. She pokes at his shoulder.
"Hey."
"Hey?" Dennis kind of asks back. "What's up?"
Trinity just laughs at him, sitting back in her chair for a second. Taking him in, as though she's memorizing him.
"What're you doing?" He asks, cocking his head, curiosity getting the better of him.
"Just remembering the before."
"Uh.... okay?"
"'Cause there's before what I'm gonna tell you and then there's after. And I wanna remember what you looked like before."
Cold fear creeps through Dennis. The slight electricity of anticipation.
"That's not ominous at all." He laughs, the sound reedy and nervous. "Can you just tell me, please? I'm starting to get a little freaked out."
"Okay," Trinity caves, too eager to share whatever insanity she's learned to draw it out any longer. "C'mere."
Dennis looks at her, puzzled, before it clicks. She wants to whisper it in his ear like a fucking teenager playing a game of telephone. God.
"Uh... sure." Dennis leans forward and Trinity cups her hands and detonates the bomb that changes his brain chemistry.
"Robby got a Grindr notification in front of me at the lockers."
Dennis's cheeks flame. He pulls back sharply.
"Fuck off," he waves her away. "I know I'm gullible or whatever, but there's no way I'm falling for that one."
Trinity lets out a little huff of annoyance.
"I'm serious."
"Yeah, and I'm the Pope."
"Fine, fuckleberry. Be a dick, then."
"That was a good one, you almost got me."
"It wasn't just me, you know." Santos crosses her arms over her chest. "Crash heard it too."
---
OKAY WAIT THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME. This might actually be becoming a fic. Fuuuuuuck. I fear the only way forward is fellow freak opinion.
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i love when ppl think i'm innocent n get all guilty for touching themselves to me .. like yesss corrupt me... bastardize my image... im an angel n ur so evil for even thinkin abt me like that!!!
