Chapter Text
Dennis
***
There was something vaguely ominous about the way Robby was acting. He wasn’t being mean or dismissive, he was being - cautious. Unsure. It left Dennis feeling like something was off. Like something bad had happened, and Robby was stressing about telling him.
Dinner was nice, eating in at Robby’s dining room table, a meal that he’d cooked.
If not for the air that some other, forbidding shoe was about to drop, Dennis would have been having a lovely night.
“So, I saw Dr. Brint earlier this week.”
“Oh?” Here it comes, Dennis thought, bracing himself.
“And it was suggested that I have a conversation with you… revisiting a subject we put a pin in last year. About - us.”
Dennis’s heart thundered in his chest. “What specific part did you want to revisit?”
Robby huffed a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “Look, if you’ve moved on-”
“I haven’t.”
“Okay. Okay, yeah. I mean, I knew that. You haven’t been hiding it.”
“And so,” Dennis prompted gently.
“Look, I’m not fixed. I’m still a mess. I’ll probably always be a mess. But I’m better than I was. I’m starting to work through my issues. I’m not fucking suicidal. I’m not actively burning bridges. I don’t feel like I’m being slowly crushed under the weight of rampant death every time I step into the Pitt. So there’s… progress. And if I wait to have a relationship until I’m ‘better’ then that day will never come.”
“I agree. No one is perfect. No one has it all together. Waiting for everything to fall into place is a recipe for lonely heartbreak.”
“And clearly we’ve got the work issue solved. Al-Hashimi has more than settled in, Cassie will be an attending in another few months, there are plenty of alternative options for all the formalities in the next two years of your residency.”
“There are,” Dennis agreed, hope that he’d buried as deeply as possible taking root in his stomach.
“But Dennis… there’s no getting around the fact that you’re more than twenty years younger than me. Don’t you want kids? If we had any, I’d be in my seventies when they graduated high school for god’s sake. Don’t you want a partner who will go out to clubs with you, try new things, and not a grumpy old man in an ongoing love affair with his tempurpedic mattress and thousand thread count sheets?”
And there it was.
He’d told himself that he wouldn’t say anything. Not unless it was the only thing holding Robby back.
Now, it was.
He pushed away his plate and took Robby’s hand. “Come on, let’s go sit on the couch. We need to talk.”
Robby’s brows rose. “I thought we were talking.”
“No, you were giving a list of reasons us being together wouldn’t work, along with all the ways we’d worked around it. Now we’re going to talk.” He sat down on the couch and waited for Robby to do the same. The clock chimed softly, marking the hour. “I hate clubs. I always have. The noise and the press of people and the - it’s overwhelming and miserable and I hate it. I’m not going to resent you not going to clubs with me. Not by a long shot.
“As for kids, I don’t want any. I can do fun uncle damn well, but I won’t go further than that. Not only am I entirely too focused on my career to raise a baby, but it wouldn’t be responsible. Which ties directly into the next part of this conversation.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Robby.” Dennis took Robby’s hand, and genuine fear crept onto Robby’s features. “I have HC1 syndrome.”
Robby stared at him, uncomprehending. Dennis knew he recognized the name of the disease. It was connecting a deadly, chronic sickness to Dennis that he couldn’t seem to do.
“I obviously survived as a kid, and my health has been holding steady with the meds I’m on, so I’m technically at what’s considered late-stage for the progression.”
“You… you’ve got the widowmaker’s disease?”
HC1 was a rare condition, and patients still functional as adults were even rarer, so Dennis wasn’t surprised he didn’t know that particular nickname for HC1. It made sense, though. People who survived HC1 to adulthood were likely getting married. And if they married someone their own age, they were signing up to create a widow in a few years.
“I’ve never heard it called that, but yeah, sounds about right.”
Robby’s face was slack, his head shaking. “Before rubihexicon came out, it was a death sentence. Stage one was called the wasting disease. Kids just… fading away. Stage two they used to call The Rot. Young adults with bodies falling apart from the inside out. And stage three was almost unheard of at the time. They called it the widowmaker’s disease. If you lived long enough to get married, you were leaving behind a widow.”
Dennis could see Robby spiraling, his chest starting to heave. He tried to get ahead of the panic filling Robby’s lungs. “I’m healthy, Robby. As healthy as I can be. I’ve been on rubihexicon for eight years. I take Clopidogrel and Diltiazem. My heart is as healthy as it can be, and I intend to keep it that way. New mortality rates with HC1 are higher, with life expectancy for late stage progression in the 60s. I’m not dying right now, Robby. But I know I won’t have a full term life.
“So if the reason you’re hesitating about us being together is that you’re assuming I’ll outlive you, or resent you growing old… Robby, I’ll be right there growing old alongside you.”
“The pills, that morning in Nebraska. And the prescriptions you were worried about affording before we left.”
Dennis nodded. Rubihexicon was absurdly expensive - all treatments for rare diseases were. The hospital’s medical insurance was great, but the pills that kept Dennis’s heart functioning at an operational level were still almost more than he could afford.
“Jesus fucking christ, don’t you ever even consider going off your medications, Dennis.”
“I’m not.”
“I am so fucking serious right now, kid. If you can’t get them, or can’t afford them, you come to me. The rubi is what’s keeping your fucking heart pumping. Promise me, Dennis.”
A little part of Dennis flinched away at that, hearing something like his dad’s voice hiss whining about your weakness, making it everyone else’s problem, but Dennis smothered it.
He knew, if the situation was reversed, if there was something lifesaving that Robby needed, that Dennis could supply… Not only would Dennis want to help, he’d be furious and heartbroken if Robby risked his life rather than turn to Dennis for help. He’d want to know why Robby couldn’t trust him, what he’d done to deserve Robby’s hesitance.
“I promise,” he said softly. It wasn’t much of an issue now, anyway. He’d mostly paid back the one loan he’d had to get, back when things had gotten really rough, and yeah he’d have medical debt the rest of his damn life probably, but his salary, as small as it was at the moment, was still enough to cover the meds.
Robby’s eyes were brimming with tears, and Dennis felt his own starting to mirror him. Robby took in a shuddering breath. “I’m so fucking sorry, Dennis.”
Dennis huffed a wet laugh. “You didn’t do anything. You haven’t done anything but be wonderful to me.”
“Growing up the way you did… it must have been a nightmare. The weakness, the fatigue… Your heart could barely keep up enough to keep you alive, and out on that farm…”
“It wasn’t easy,” Dennis agreed. “Sometimes I think that’s why my dad started hating me. None of them believed that there was anything wrong with me. They thought I was just lazy, a cry baby. Drama queen. I couldn’t keep up. In high school, I made it through exactly one football practice before a hit to the chest made me pass out. I tried doing track, hoping that would appease dad. I can’t do the big bursts of adrenaline and speed, or anything heavy contact, but I’ve got stamina for days. I did long-distance running for a while, before I passed out during a relay once and I had to quit the team.
“Dad hated it, obviously. But… honestly, I wonder if, even if I’d been perfectly healthy, he would have found some fault with me. It wasn’t as though he was a great dad to Isaiah and Jacob and Benjamin. He just wanted to take it out on someone, and they were too much like him for him to use them.”
Robby put his face in his hands and gave a hollow laugh. “This is why it’s so twisted, Dennis. Because I wish to hell that I’d been there. That I could have swooped in and taken you away from all that, given you the childhood you deserved, taken your health seriously.”
“You’d have been a great dad,” Dennis said softly. And then a thought occurred to him - he looked down, hesitating, then said, “if you want to have kids-”
Robby waved him away. “Yeah, there was a time when I wanted kids - hell, if it was on your radar, I wouldn’t say no. Having Jane for those three days last year…” He shook his head. “I’d have liked it. But I know I’m not cut out for it right now, and I certainly wouldn’t ask my partner to sacrifice their career for it.”
When Dennis would have pushed, Robby held up his hand and went on. “You’re missing the point here, kid. You do realize how sick it is that I could have taken you in, when you were younger, that I wish I could’ve, and that I feel… I want to take care of you, Dennis. Give you all the things you never got, while at the same time-”
“Having sex with me?”
Dennis laughed at the grimace on Robby’s face. “Okay, I hear you, but let me ask you this. How twisted does it make me, that I want that from you? Yeah, the age gap isn’t a big deal to me, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re older, you’re my mentor, someone I look up to - someone that I want to care for me in a way I missed out on as a kid. I’m not saying I want to call you daddy in bed, but… the whole paternal figure thing isn’t a deterrent from my attraction to you, Robby. It’s a big part of it.”
“Shit… Brint is going to have a field day with this,” Robby muttered, rubbing his hand over his face again.
“Does that make me sick? That I can wish I’d had you growing up, and I want you now? Is it wrong that I want you to take care of me just as much as I want to be there to take care of you after a tough shift? That there will be times when I want to run things, cook dinner, plan dates, hold you - but there will also be times when I want to be small, and fragile, and know that you’re a safe place for me to land when I’m feeling that way?”
“No,” Robby sighed. “No, that doesn’t make you sick, or twisted. I’m holding myself to a double standard. I know that. It just feels wrong, when it’s me. I should have everything together. I should be less fucked up. I should be stronger, more stable, less conflicted. I’m in my fifties for christ’s sake.”
“There’s no timeline on mental health, or having your life together. You’re a successful doctor, well respected in your field, head of your department. You have a house and a car. By most standards, you’re plenty stable.”
“I’m only a year out from having planned to end it all.”
“And you didn’t, and now you’re working on it.”
“Yeah. I think it just seems… unfair, to you. You’ve already had such a hard life, Dennis. You deserve better. After everything you’ve gone through, and with your health-”
Dennis scooted closer to Robby, slipping his hand into Robby’s own. “I don’t deserve a kind, brilliant, compassionate, successful doctor to spend my life with?” He smiled cheekily when Robby blustered. “And you’re saying that once we retire, and you’re still sprightly and I’m wheezing my way through a walk in the park, you won’t stay by my side?”
“That’s not-”
“I deserve what I want, don’t I, Robby?”
“Dennis…”
“And what I want, is you. It has been, for a long time. That’s not going to change. The question is - how much longer are you going to make us wait before we can start the rest of our lives together.”
Robby stared at him, chest hitching on his breaths, dark eyes seeming to bore into his soul, and then he muttered, “fuck it,” and kissed Dennis.
It was everything he’d been longing for. Robby’s lips were warm and firm against his own, his beard soft against Dennis’s skin, and when his tongue brushed against the furl of Dennis’s lower lip, he opened with a moan and welcomed Robby into him.
The single kiss they’d shared back in Nebraska had been messy and desperate and wild. This was something altogether different. This was explosive - two years worth of pent up passion all coming to a head - but it was also tempered by the softness of what had been building between them all this time. It wasn’t a rush to completion. It was a satisfying culmination of all the events that had led them here, to this moment.
But that didn’t stop Dennis from swinging his leg over so that he could straddle Robby’s waist, pressing their groins together and moaning into his mouth again.
Robby broke away, not going far, but separating their lips while he pressed his forehead to Dennis’s and panted. “I feel like I should be the responsible one here, telling you we should take it slow.”
“Robby, I’ve been waiting for this for years. If you don’t take me to your bed and fuck me, I might just spontaneously combust.”
Robby huffed a laugh, his hands coming up to Dennis’s hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles against his skin. “Is that what you want, sweetheart? For me to fuck you?”
Dennis thought he might come in his pants just from hearing Robby talk dirty to him. He whimpered and pressed his now throbbing erection against Robby’s abdomen. “Honestly, I don’t care what we do, as long as we do something.”
“Yeah?”
“Please,” Dennis begged.
And in a move that Dennis was sure would have Robby’s back aching in the morning, Robby stood up, his hands supporting Dennis’s ass, keeping him against his chest. Dennis’s arms automatically went around Robby’s shoulders to steady himself as Robby walked them to the bedroom. “Yes,” he groaned, unabashedly grinding against Robby.
“Desperate for it, hm? Need daddy to make you come?”
Dennis choked on his next groan, cock painfully hard and laughter bubbling up in his throat. “Oh my god, Robby!”
Robby grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of Dennis’s laughing mouth. “You were the one who brought it up, sweetheart,” he teased.
“I said I wouldn’t call you daddy.”
“Maybe I took that as a personal challenge.”
Dennis laughed again, feeling light and happy and so, so in love. “Do your worst, old man,” he dared.
Robby laid Dennis back onto the bed and immediately started kissing down his neck. “I think, before I do my worst, we should have a talk about likes and dislikes, boundaries, all that jazz. But,” he continued before Dennis could fully protest, “that works out, because I honestly don’t know that I’d last long enough to act on any of that anyway. I haven’t- haven’t been with anyone, since Nebraska.”
“I haven’t either,” Dennis confessed.
The look on Robby’s face was half outrage, half adoration. “You weren’t supposed to be waiting for me,” he scolded, even while he was unbuttonging Dennis’s pants.
“Sue me,” Dennis said brattily, pulling off his shirt and then attacking Robby’s. Robby laughed, continuing to strip them down, until they were finally naked. Dennis was riveted. Robby was long, lean muscle covered in dark hair that hadn’t yet started to lighten except for at the hollow of his throat. It wasn’t a body crafted for visual appeal, it was a body honed like a tool, all purpose and confidence. There was a small patch of softness right at Robby’s belly button, and Dennis wanted to press his face there and nuzzle like a fucking cat.
And below that… Robby wasn’t so large that Dennis thought they wouldn’t fit together - assuming that Robby would be okay topping at some point - but he was definitely large enough to make Dennis gasp.
“Fuck, Robby-”
“Ditto,” Robby breathed, making Dennis realize that while he’d been looking at Robby, Robby had been looking at him. The heat in Robby’s eyes was enough to make Dennis’s cock throb.
“Please,” he whispered, and the word had barely left his mouth before Robby leaned down and blanketed Dennis’s body with his own, pressing that delicious weight against him, making Dennis’s nerve endings sing in pleasure. He kissed Dennis, hard and deep, and then slid his hand between them and circled both their cocks together.
It was perfect. The pressure, the strength of Robby’s hand on them, the speed, the slickness between them as Dennis’s cock started to leak steadily and his orgasm built. And it was Robby’s tongue in his mouth, Robby’s breath in his lungs, Robby’s body pressing him down, Robby’s voice, hoarse and broken, muttering “fuck, oh fuck, Dennis, baby, fuck-”
And then Dennis was coming hard, shuddering through release while Robby’s hand kept moving, even when his own peak hit and he was overstimulating them both. It wasn’t until he’d milked them both dry and made them whimper that he finally pulled his hand away, leaving their bellies smeared with their mingled spend. He tipped to his side and collapsed on his back.
“Holy fuck.”
“Ditto,” Dennis said back breathlessly. Robby laughed, kissed him, and went to get a washcloth.
***
Robby
***
The practical conversation didn’t happen until two days later, when they were at Robby’s house again and had a rare day off together the following day.
It was strange, Robby hadn’t actually ever been with a partner that he needed to have quite this in depth of a clarifying conversation with. When he dated women, there was no question of position, just finding boundaries and learning preferences. And the men he’d been with, he’d know from the outset if they were bottom or switch, if they were against penetration or for it, if they were comfortable with oral. It was generally something talked about early - or stated on a profile description - to prevent incompatibility issues.
He really fucking hoped he and Dennis wouldn’t have incompatibility issues. Then again, there was very little he wouldn’t eagerly do, if it kept Dennis in his bed.
“So,” he started, “we should talk, yeah?”
They’d just finished dinner, and Dennis was packing away leftovers while Robby finished the dishes.
“We could,” Dennis agreed with a nod. “Or we could go upstairs and we could pick up where we left off the other night…”
Robby wanted to groan at how difficult it was being the responsible adult here sometimes. He tried for coaxing when he said, “true, but if you want anything more than what we did last time, then we really should talk.”
That, at least, seemed to bring Dennis around to the idea, and he let Robby lead him back to the couch.
“So.”
“So.”
Fuuuuuuck. “Why don’t you tell me what you like, hm?”
Dennis blinked at him. “What I like?”
“Is there an echo in here?”
Dennis swatted at him. “No, I just mean… what specifically are you looking for here? Like, kinky vs vanilla, top or bottom, rough or soft, favorite positions?”
“All of it.”
A beat, and then the look Dennis gave him was dry as the Sahara. “You want me to sit here with a straight face and just list out all my sexual preferences to you while you’re over there like this is an oral exam I’m being graded on?”
“Well if teacher role play is up your alley I won’t say no, but I was thinking more along the lines of two mature adults sharing their tastes.” He smiled, then shook his head. “Listen, there are so many things I want to do with you, but there are a lot of options that not everyone likes. I want to make sure that we’re both enjoying ourselves.”
“I’m going to enjoy anything we do together, Robby. Seriously.”
“Uh huh. Even still. C’mon, humor me.”
Dennis huffed. “Alright, but on two conditions.”
Amused, Robby waved him on.
“One, we alternate. I say something I like, you say something you like.”
“That’s fair. And two?”
“Two, we take off an article of clothing each time we do.”
Robby looked at the jeans and t-shirt Dennis was wearing, and the jeans, long sleeve t and pullover he was wearing. “Ah, no. We’d be way too distracted way too quickly. How about we get through some basics before we turn this into strip 20 questions when we’re each only wearing five pieces of clothing.”
“Fine,” Dennis agreed, faux pouting all the while. “You start, though.”
Robby rolled his eyes, and then reminded himself that he was a fifty fucking year old man, and he could have a responsible conversation about sexual compatibility with the man he was sleeping with. “Okay then. I’m generally a service top, but I’m pretty versatile.”
There was a drawn out moment of silence, and Dennis pulled one of the pillows on the couch into his lap, folding his arms around it. “Okay, don’t get the wrong idea about this, because I am experienced, and I definitely know what top and vers are, but what is a service top?”
Some experience, but not a lot, Robby mentally categorized. Or, at least, not enough experience with people that actually talked with him about things. “It means I like doing things that please my partners.”
“I mean… isn’t that all considerate people?”
Robby laughed. “No, I mean I like doing it. You could pillow princess with absolutely zero effort and as long as I know you’re enjoying what I’m doing, then I’m into it.”
“Oh!”
Dennis looked so adorably flustered. Robby wanted to bite his thighs. He forced the thought away. “Your turn.”
“Well, I’m not a pillow princess - though I think I might like the opportunity to be, sometimes? It’s not something I’ve gotten a lot of experience with. I tend to get pegged as a bottom, obviously, which is totally fine! But also the prep can be a bit of a chore so unless it’s a big production, sometimes just, you know, getting off is easier.”
Jesus, what kind of sex had this kid been having?
“Okay, I still want you to tell me a new preference, but just to clarify here, you don’t enjoy the prep for bottoming, but you like the sex itself?”
“Well yeah, the sex part is always good, but I don’t know, either I feel rushed and I’m just trying to get it done as quickly as possible because the guy is waiting, or I’m doing it at home beforehand and then there’s the miserable ride over with lube-”
Okay, Robby got the picture. “Alright, I’m gonna need you to forget everything you know about hookups when it comes to us having sex together. You’re definitely not prepping before coming over, and I wouldn’t want you doing a rush job because you thought I was going to be an impatient asshole. Prep is something we’ll do together, and it’ll feel good.”
Dennis’s entire face flushed beet red. “You mean - you want to be in there while I- for the-”
“In bed, usually. Unless we’re being adventurous, I guess.”
“No, I mean - in the bathroom, for-”
Realization hit, and Robby blinked. Shook his head. Blinked again. “Dennis. Baby. Honey. Sweet summer child. You are a doctor. Please tell me you are not giving yourself an enema every time you have penetrative sex.”
The flush spread down to Dennis’s chest and up to his ears. “It’s… you need to - listen, guys don’t like it if there’s any-”
The sigh Robby let out was long and exhausted. What the fuck were they teaching these baby gays? “Okay, let’s go back to basics here. I don’t care what some tool of a frat jock told you, you don’t need to be cleaning yourself out every time you have sex, and you shouldn’t be, for a plethora of reasons, such as microbial dysbiosis, inflammation, and electrolyte imbalances. And if you did have a bad experience with someone throwing a fit about things getting messy, then I would say that they shouldn’t be sticking their dick someplace they can’t handle the natural functions of.”
“That’s… very grown up.”
Robby laughed. “I’m a quinquagenarian, Dennis.”
“Trust me, I know,” Dennis said with a smile.
“So, we’re good there? You’ll let me open you up properly if you ever want sex that way?”
Dennis nodded, his face less red, but his expression still somewhat reserved. “Your turn.”
“What? No, you just repeated your version of my turn. Come up with your own, now.”
“Taskmaster,” Dennis huffed. “Fine. I think I’m more… vanilla. Not that I’m opposed to BDSM, or anything, but a lot of that stuff is more arousing in idea than in practice for me.”
“Fair enough,” Robby said with a nod. “I’ve done relationships with both, and enjoyed them equally. I’m not into any of the heavy stuff even when I do BDSM, so nothing to worry about there. If you’re interested in dabbling a little, we can go through a whole list of options, but if that’s not your style then we can just leave it.” He gave Dennis a moment to sit with that, watching the way his thoughts flitted across his face. Then said, “and for my next preference - I don’t mind some rough stuff, but I don’t like anything too far or too serious. I don’t want to be fighting you in bed, and I’m not going to hit you. It’s just not me.”
“No, that’s totally fair,” Dennis was quick to say. “And I agree. One hundred percent. A smack to the ass when you’re bent over is one thing, a slap to the face is another. Definitely a no-go.”
“Good. Your turn.” Robby tried to move on quickly, masking the way he was hoping, desperately, that no one in Dennis’s past had tried that with him. That he hadn’t had a partner that hurt him. That treated him the way his father had. He shook the thought away.
“Um… I like dirty talk? Does that count? I like - don’t laugh at me, but I like listening to you. I like your voice. And the thought of hearing you say filthy things to me…” He shivered, eyes closing momentarily. “Like, even saying stuff that isn’t sexy to actually do, sometimes just hearing it, and hearing it in your voice would be-” He cut himself off, face coloring slightly again.
“I get it. And I’m very on board with that. I’m more than happy to whisper dirty things in your ear, sweetheart. For me personally, I enjoy hearing dirty talk, but it’s not as exciting as hearing you in general. Sounds of your pleasure. Moans, gasps, telling me harder or deeper…” Robby shifted as he felt his cock start to fill out, roused at just the idea of Dennis moaning in his ear, begging for more, faster- “Um.” He cleared his throat, trying to stay on track. “Uh, oral. Happy to get it, but really really like giving it. Sometimes I like that more than straight up fucking.”
“Really?”
Dennis looked so shocked that Robby had to laugh. “Really. I take it you’re not a fan of performing? That’s okay, I just want to know what you’re comfortable with.”
“It’s not that I’m opposed.” He scratched his ear, eyes flicking anywhere but at Robby’s face. “It’s one of those things that’s better in theory than practice for me, I think? I mean, I like making someone feel good, and I like, well a lot of aspects of doing that. I just have a fairly sensitive gag reflex, and I’m not really a fan of throwing up mid-blowjob. Ruins the mood,” he tried to joke.
“Yeah,” Robby said cautiously, “I can see how that would do it. So this gag reflex, it kicks in just from sucking, or-”
“Not like, the head and stuff. That’s just fine, I like that part. It’s trying to shove it all the way down my throat that makes me gag.”
“I definitely understand that - not nearly as many people can just deep throat a cock as porn might lead you to believe. And not trying to be an asshole here or anything darling, but just, as a concept, if you know it makes you gag, maybe don’t do that.”
“Yeah well when some guy has their hand on the back of your head it’s not like you get much choice,” Dennis defended hotly.
And all of Robby’s hackles went up at once, because yeah he was a big guy now, but he hadn’t always been, and there had been a time in his youth back when blowjobs were clandestine affairs in closets or store rooms and there were no consequences for pushing your partner too far because it would mean exposing what you’d both been doing, but Robby thought the world had moved on from that shit. But no, apparently not. He just had the privilege of being an older, bigger guy, so no one was doing that to him anymore unless he asked them to.
But for Dennis, with his inconsiderate hook up partners who didn’t understand etiquette or kindness or even basic human fucking decency apparently, it wasn’t just a given.
Getting angry now wouldn’t help Dennis any, and considering his past, it might just make things worse. Robby let out a slow, controlled breath, and forced his voice to be level when he spoke. “That’s not going to be happening again. Ever. Now, I need a minute. So I’d like you to go upstairs, take your clothes off, and get into the bed, assuming you’d still like this night to end there.”
“I do,” Dennis said quickly, and then paused, biting his lip. “You’re angry.”
“Not at you, sweetheart.”
Still, he didn’t move. “It’s really not that big of a deal,” he said placatingly, doing what he always did and trying to smooth down all the ruffled feathers, keep the peace. “It only happened a few times. I’m not always great at enforcing my boundaries. It’s fine, really.”
Robby lifted Dennis’s hand and kissed the center of his palm. “It is a big deal, a few times is too many, and it’s not fine. But I’m glad I know, so I can be cautious not to stir up old trauma. I’m not mad at you in any way. I just need a minute to reset. I have a bad habit of lashing out when I’m frustrated or feel like something is out of my control, and I’m trying to work on doing better.”
Slowly, Dennis nodded. “Alright.” Instead of pulling away, though, he leaned forward and kissed Robby, softly, sweetly, on the mouth. One peck, then two, then a longer press with just the barest hint of tongue. Already, Robby could feel his shoulders dropping, the tight knot of anxiety in his gut easing. “I’ll meet you in there. Don’t take too long or I’ll start without you.” He winked at Robby in a move that was far too smooth for him and yet pulled off somehow flawlessly.
Robby smacked his ass lightly as he walked away.
As soon as he was out of sight, Robby tried to use some of the techniques Brint had taught him. He’d already utilized the first one - noticing when his frustration started to build before it boiled over, and excusing himself from the situation when possible. Now, he tried focusing on what he could control rather than spiraling over things he couldn’t possibly hope to control. He couldn’t control the guys Dennis had slept with in the past, or erase the bad experiences he’d had. He could be a good partner to Dennis, and show him everything he’d been missing. Give him all the care and consideration that those dickheads hadn’t. Treat him with the respect he deserved, and show him that he could enjoy prep and blow jobs and all the things that had been tainted by casual cruelty in the past.
This wasn’t a transient relationship, to Robby. He’d known for a long time that if he ever got his hands on Dennis, really got his hands on him, he wouldn’t be able to let go. But even since Dennis had told him about his HC1 diagnosis, Robby was in for the long haul. Not because he felt sorry for Dennis, or because he felt obligated because of the cruel twist of genetics that had left Dennis doomed to an early grave. But because, barring any calamities, Robby wouldn’t be a burden to Dennis. Depending on his health, he’d probably be able to care for Dennis, when the disease reached its end stage progression. Instead of Robby being a frail ninety year old being pushed around in a wheelchair by his younger partner, Robby would be pushing Dennis around when he reached his early sixties. Or they’d age together, and have a nurse each to push them around the old-folks home.
Jack and Anna had only gotten seven years together before the crash that killed her. Adamson had twenty five years with his wife before he died. Dennis was twenty nine, now. God willing, they could have thirty five years together before the HC1 broke him down. Robby’s grandmother had lived to ninety-eight, spry and sarcastic right up until the West Nile virus had killed her. Robby would start taking his health seriously and would make sure that he lived to at least 87 so that he would be there for every moment of the thirty five years he and Dennis might get together.
He could keep himself healthy. He would help Dennis stay as healthy as possible too. He’d be good to Dennis, show him what he’d always been missing, and keep him, for as long as Dennis allowed.
Those were things he had control over. Things that were within his power to do.
Now, all he needed was to go up the stairs and show his younger lover the advantages of sleeping with someone more experienced.
***
Dennis was, obligingly, naked on the bed when Robby walked in.
He whistled low, admiring the long, pale sweep of Dennis’s body. His cock was soft against his thigh, his lips looked as though he’d been biting them. There was lube and a condom on the bed beside him.
Robby liked the initiative. He liked even better that Dennis hadn’t started prepping himself.
“Hey,” he said softly, pulling his shirt off over his head one armed.
“Hey yourself,” Dennis said back, shifting slightly up the bed and leaning against the pillows. “Gonna drop those too?” he asked, nodding to Robby’s pants.
“Sure, if you don’t think that’s rushing things.”
“I wouldn’t complain.”
“Well then, your wish is my command.” Robby unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his jeans, and pushed them down. He put one knee on the bed and braced one hand by Dennis’s head, leaning in to kiss him. “Let me make you feel good, hm?” he murmured against Dennis’s throat, kissing further and further down.
“Yes, please,” Dennis agreed, voice laced with need.
So Robby did. Kissing down his chest, across his hips, and then taking Dennis’s cock into his mouth and sucking steadily. When Dennis’s hips started to lift and bitten off little moans escaped his lips, Robby gentled his movements and teased him with slow licks. “How’s your refractory period, sweetheart? Think you can come twice, or just the one in a night?”
“I used to - ah - be able to do two, but -hnn- it’s been a while since I had the energy to try.”
“How do you feel about me trying to get you there tonight?”
“By all means,” Dennis squeaked, body jolting when Robby took him deep again. Oh, it was just too easy to get him wound up, to tease him, to make him shudder in pleasure. Robby was thrilled to discover all the little ways he could pull Dennis apart at the seams, overwhelm him with sensation.
Mindful of the fact that he could cause overstimulation if he pushed too far, Robby used light, gentle suction to bring Dennis right to the brink and then swallow him down.
Dennis moaned long and low through his orgasm, his fingers digging into Robby’s shoulders deliciously. Robby was careful not to keep going too long, releasing him with a pop while he was still half hard. He slid up Dennis’s limp body, stopping to take a drink from his water bottle on the night stand and then pressing kisses to Dennis’s throat while gently rubbing his perineum and inner thighs.
“Holy fuck, Robby,” Dennis finally managed to say, still trying to catch his breath. Robby didn’t bother to hide his smut grin. He loved this part. He was good at sex, and he knew it. It was a skill he’d honed over many years dedicated to his partner’s pleasure. He could be useful, good, competent, and give something to someone he cared about.
“Yeah?”
“Shit, yes. I’m… jesus, I think you sucked my soul out through my dick.”
Robby laughed, kissed Dennis’s shoulder, and then nudged his one leg until he shifted it, knee bent and up, giving Robby better access. Robby grabbed the lube, snapped the cap open, drizzled a fair amount on his fingers, and then dropped them between Dennis’s legs.
“You said there are some things that you like as dirty talk, but that you wouldn’t or couldn’t ever actually do. What are some of them?” Robby asked, voice low as he gently circled Dennis’s rim.
“Oh! Um… you know. Some stuff that’s not physically possible, like making my stomach bulge with your cum… fucking me so hard I feel it for days… breeding me-” he broke off quickly and added, “and some stuff that’s just not sexy in real life. Keeping me tied to your bed for days on end, making me take it, making me yours…”
Robby rewarded him for his openness by slowly easing one finger inside him, keeping his knuckles and thumb massaging his prostate externally, all with gentle, easy movements.
“Mm, thank you for sharing that with me, sweetheart. I’m sensing a theme here that I can definitely work with. After all, now that I’ve finally got you here, I do plan to keep you, Dennis. I waited far too long to let you go now that I’ve had a taste.” He kissed Dennis, long and deep and consuming. He started curling his finger, just slightly, enough to brush against his prostate gently but not fully stroke it. “And once I get my cock in you… fuck, I’m going to take you so deep, fill you up so full that you see stars.”
Dennis gasped, and Robby started slowly pushing a second finger into him. When his gaze flicked down, he saw Dennis’s cock starting to twitch back to life. “You want that, honey? Want me to fill you up, mark you, make you scream my name?”
“Yes, god yes, please,” Dennis begged.
“I think I’ve got an idea,” Robby drawled, starting to scissor his fingers, stretching Dennis slow and steadily. “Next time, I’ll bring a plug. We’ll see how many loads I can pump into you, hm? Plug you up after each one so you’re always full.”
“Hahhh-” Dennis hissed through clenched teeth, his toes curling. Robby added a third finger and stretched.
“Does that burn, sweetheart? I’ve gotta make sure you’re nice and open for me. If this feels like a lot, imagine how much more my cock will stretch you. Are you sure you can take it?”
Dennis nodded jerkily, gasping out, “yes, I can take it. Please.”
“Hmm… maybe not quite yet.” His own cock was hard and aching against his thigh, and he shifted, freeing it to spring upward. Dennis gasped again when Robby rutted lazily against him, enjoying the friction while still slowly thrusting his fingers in and out.
On an average day - when he hadn’t been weeks since his last time jerking off and more than a year since he’d been with a partner, like the first time he and Dennis had been intimate - it took Robby longer to come than it had when he was younger. Better self-control, yes, but also slightly less sensation and slower reactions to physical stimulus. He wasn’t worried about being able to last long enough to make Dennis come again, even if it took a while. What he was worried about, though, was doing too much when Dennis had been just as long without a partner as Robby had been.
Now, he didn’t know that Dennis didn’t get off with toys in the mean time. Hell, Dennis could be a size queen for all Robby knew - but he didn’t think that was the case. The way Dennis had described penetration, Robby got the feeling that it was almost an inconvenience that he liked the sensation, like it was easier to skip it when he could manage without it. And well, Robby intended to change that. He wanted to help Dennis learn to love this. He was sensitive as hell, so damn responsive to every caress and gentle touch. He opened up beautifully under Robby’s patient fingers. Robby wasn’t about to risk tainting the experience by fucking him for so long that his rim was sore and his prostate felt battered.
Instead, he pushed them both to the edge with his teasing, kissing Dennis deep and whispering soft dirty talk in his ear, rutting up against his hip and now curling his fingers up to gently stroke his prostate.
“Oh fuck, please Robby, please fuck me, please,” Dennis babbled after Robby let his free hand ghost over Dennis’s now twitching and leaking cock.
And Robby realized he’d edged them long enough, because suddenly he couldn’t bear one more second before he had himself hilted inside Dennis’s body. He ripped open the condom foil with his teeth, rolled it down his length before adding more lube, and then shifted so that he was settled between Dennis’s spread thighs. “Ready for the real thing, sweetheart?”
“Yes, yes please-”
Dennis cut off as Robby notched the head of his cock against the slick, stretched circle of muscle and pushed.
It was slow at first, no matter how much Dennis whined and lifted his hips. Robby wouldn’t rush this. He eased forward and pulled back, fractionally deepening the connection, slowly acclimating Dennis’s body to accept his own inside. Dennis’s grip on him was tight and slick, the heat searing, the pressure just right to drive Robby to madness.
Robby’s forehead dropped down to Dennis’s, his breath coming in harsh pants. “Fuck,” he gasped against Dennis’s lips, shuddering with the effort of controlling himself. Dennis’s body clenched around him, one leg hitched up over Robby’s hip, and that was all he could take. He braced on his forearms for leverage and thrust. Dennis arched beautifully, the line of his throat on perfect display against the pillows as Robby pulled back and thrust again, and again, making Dennis’s cock bounce against his belly where it was neglected between them.
Robby wanted to grab it, to stroke him in time with each drive of his hips, but he didn’t want to stop the deep, inexorable slam of his hips to do so. “Touch yourself,” he managed to bite out. “Stroke your cock for me, baby. Wanna - fuck - see you come. Feel you come on me. C’mon, just like that.”
Without further coaxing, Dennis wrapped his hand around his cock and began to jerk it in short, quick movements. “Oh fuck, yeah, just like that. So good for me.” Dennis moaned and his head thrashed on the pillow. “Yeah? Like being good for me, honey? You like being so good for me, doing just what I tell you?”
“Yes, yes Robby, god yes!”
“Keep going, just like that. So fucking perfect. Want you to come when I fill you up. Want you to come from the feeling of me breeding you full. Keeping you pinned here so all you can do is take it.”
And Dennis gasped out Robby’s name as he suddenly came, his thighs trembling around Robby’s waist and eyes clenched shut. Robby was only half a beat behind him, driving deep and hard a handful more times before spilling.
They stayed connected like that while they both struggled to catch their breath. Sweat was pooled at the dip in the base of Robby’s spine and dotted along Dennis’s temples. There was a blooming red mark on Dennis’s clavicle that Robby didn’t remember leaving there - he felt vaguely guilty about that; he had no idea how Dennis felt about love bites.
“That,” Dennis said softly, after Robby had finally extricated himself and cleaned them both up, “was worth the wait.”
“Do you mean the year we waited, or the years you waited, going through crap partners?” Robby joked.
“Both,” Dennis said firmly.
Robby couldn’t agree more.