Archive of Our Own

Dennis noticed the bandanas at exactly 7:32 AM. At least, that was the timestamp on the Google search he made about hanky code. 

Robby sauntered into the Pitt that morning as usual, doing the handoff with Dr. Abbot and the rest of the night crew. Dennis was busy taking over a patient from Dr. Ellis and didn't get a chance to greet his attending until a little into their shift. He was sitting at Robby’s computer trying to finish charting when the man walked by. 

“Morning, Whitaker. Got anything good today?”

“Uh, head lac in South 15 is almost ready to be discharged,” Dennis said, still typing away at the computer. Robby stepped closer and leaned down, peering over his shoulder. Dennis shivered as he felt Robby's body heat emanating off of him. 

“Fantastic. When you’re done, I have a stomach bug in North 5 with your name on it.”

Dennis sighed. “Great. Be there soon.” 

Robby clapped him on the shoulder and walked away, and Dennis couldn’t help but turn and watch. Trinity had called him out on it countless times—the way he was so clearly drawn to their attending like a moth to a flame, his eyes tracking Robby’s every movement around the floor. It was a habit he was trying desperately to break. Clearly today was not the day.

And maybe that was a good thing. It was at that moment, watching Robby step into Trauma 2, that he noticed the two colorful pieces of fabric sticking out of the back left pocket of his cargo pants. 

Dennis’s eyes widened comically, and he found himself frozen, eyes glued to Robby’s back until he disappeared from his line of sight. Dennis glanced around to see if anyone noticed his very obvious staring problem before slipping his phone out of his pocket, hastily opening an incognito tab. It only took a few seconds of typing and clicking for him to find what he needed. It only took a few more seconds for Dennis to get so aroused he became dizzy. 

His palms began to sweat as he shoved his phone back in his pocket. There was no way Robby wasn’t flagging. Why the fuck would he flag at work? Dennis felt the pit in his stomach grow as he stood and made his way to North 5, running through the worst case scenarios in his head. Did Robby know about his crush? Was he teasing Dennis? It didn't seem like him, but then again, what did Dennis know about Robby?

Well, he knew three things now. Robby liked men, and he flagged mustard yellow and hunter green on the left. 

He took a breath and steadied himself before he entered the patient’s room. “Hi, I'm Dr. Whitaker, I'll be your doctor today. Can you tell me when your symptoms began?”

Dennis couldn’t look Robby in the eye for the rest of the day. It was an excruciating eleven and a half hours.

Because what do you do with yourself when you learn that your boss, your really hot boss that you’ve been crushing on for the past year, is not only bisexual (which means you theoretically have a chance), but also has a huge dick and likes being called daddy? Two things that, coincidentally, you type in the search bar every night when you look for something to jerk off to before giving up and just imagining said man plowing into you, whimpering more, daddy into a pillow lest your roommate hear?

Dennis was so thrown off his game that he was relegated to chairs and triage at 1 PM and remained there for the rest of his shift. Some would see it as a punishment (Trinity shot him a look that was half pity, half confusion, all we will be discussing whatever the fuck is going on with you later) but Dennis was relieved to have some space. 

When the clock struck 7 PM, Dennis made a beeline to the lockers. He stumbled past Dr. Shen, who was sipping idly on an already half-empty iced coffee while Robby walked him through the board. The bandanas were no longer in his pocket. 

“Hey, Whitaker. Got a second?” 

Dennis stopped in his tracks, fingernails pressed against his palms. “Sure, boss,” he said. He plastered a smile on his face and hoped it masked the absolute fear in his eyes.

Robby nodded to Shen and walked Dennis towards the lockers. Dennis tensed as he felt Robby's hand ghost over his shoulder, just barely touching him. “You seemed a bit…distracted today,” Robby started. Dennis hummed and busied himself with punching in his locker code and opening it, scooping up his bag and sweater. 

Robby sighed when it became clear Dennis wasn’t going to respond. “Something on your mind?”

Yeah, two things, actually. And one of them is pretty big, apparently. Dennis twitched involuntarily as the thought zipped through his brain. He could feel his ears turning pink.

“Just tired, Dr. Robby. I’ll go to bed early tonight and be better tomorrow.” He turned to go, but Robby grabbed his wrist and spun him around.

“You’re absolutely sure there’s nothing you need to talk to me about?” Dennis forced himself to meet Robby's eyes. He looked genuinely concerned, if not a bit angry as well. As if he of all people had the right to get mad at Dennis for suppressing his emotions. 

“Absolutely sure,” Dennis nodded. He pressed his lips together to suppress the whine that threatened to slip out when Robby let go of his wrist. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

When he got to Trinity’s car, she was already inside, fiddling with the aux cord as she queued up songs for their drive home. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” She quipped without looking up. Dennis rolled his eyes and buckled his seat belt. 

“You don’t want to know.”

Something in his tone must have tipped Trinity off, and her head snapped up, eyes glinting with mischief. “What did he do?”

Because if there was one thing Trinity loved, it was torturing Dennis over his schoolboy crush. As if she wasn’t so enamored with Garcia (on their very first day, he loved to remind her) that she dropped a scalpel into her foot. 

Dennis sighed. “Robby had two bandanas in his back pocket today. I don't know if it was on purpose or what, but…” he bit his lip. Trinity finished for him.

“He was flagging?”

“I think?” Dennis groaned, rubbing his eyes and slinking down in his seat. “But like, why at the hospital, of all places?”

Trinity furrowed her brow for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I overheard him talking to Dr. Abbot during handoff this morning. Something about needing to do laundry, I think. He could've left them in there and forgotten to take them out?”

“Maybe,” Dennis said. “The colors were so specific, too. Like, not the typical bandana colors you’d own.”

Trinity raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Oh yeah? And what did these colors signify?”

“Just drive us home, Trin," Dennis groaned. Now it was Trinity's turn to roll her eyes. She shifted the car into reverse.

“Whatever. Keep your gay little secrets. Just keep it down when you're rubbing one out tonight, kay?”

“Trinity!”

Despite insisting to Trinity for the entire car ride home and for the duration of their meal together (reheated leftovers, as usual—how long had it been since they’d had time or energy to go to the grocery store, much less cook something?) that he was not going to jerk off to their boss, the second he locked himself in his room he reached for his vibrator, visions of big strong hands and soft brown eyes already swirling around in his brain. And he did keep it down, thank you very much. 

After, as he caught his breath and his heart rate slowed, he fumbled blindly for his phone. His tab from that morning was still open, a rainbow of colors reflecting off his face in the darkness of his room. He squinted at the words, reading each line over and over.

Dennis knew about flagging culture—obviously. It was the only reason he had clocked what Robby was doing. But it would be a bold faced lie for him to say he was intimately familiar with the culture and meanings of the colors and sides. He himself had only been to a gay bar once, and that was with Trinity a few months ago; the night ended with Dennis covered in glitter, sweat, his own vomit, and various other mystery fluids he decidedly did not want to know the origin of. Trinity had refused to take him out again until he “built up more alcohol tolerance, like, God, I can't get laid when I'm babysitting your stupid ass.”

As he looked over the list again, he thought about what colors he would flag and where. He wondered what would happen if he stuck them in the back pocket of his scrubs and took them to work. Would Robby notice? Would he say something? What if his colors weren’t what Robby was into, and he made himself look even more like a fool? 

Then again, what was the worst possible outcome? He wore them, no one said anything, and he got a few colorful bandanas out of the process? Hell, he could always convince Trinity to take him out again and see if he got any attention with his new accessories. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember the last time he got laid. 

Dennis bit his lip and opened a new tab. where to buy bandanas near me?

“I can't believe you’re doing this. And I can't believe that I am spending my one day off this week helping you.”

They stood in aisle 5 of Michael’s, staring at a colorful display of bandanas. Lady Gaga's “Rain On Me” filtered out of the tinny speakers, which Dennis felt was a bit too on the nose. Trinity had already made five jokes about the store name—he was keeping track. 

“You didn't have to come,” he grumbled, glancing from the list on his phone to the wall and back again.

“Well, yeah, but this is objectively hilarious,” Trinity countered. “You’re trying to send subliminal messages to our boss so he’ll put his dick inside you.”

Dennis didn't respond. He took a step towards the wall and pulled a few pieces of fabric off in quick succession, dropping them in the basket he held on his arm. Trinity snorted. 

“Jesus. What are you, a bower bird? Trying to make a colorful nest to attract a mate?”

“Shut up. It's not like I'm gonna wear them all at once.”

She shook her head. “This is all so complicated. If you were a lesbian all you'd need is a carabiner and a better haircut.”

“Need I remind you that you gave me this haircut?”

They made their way to the cash register. An older woman with shoulder length gray hair checked them out. Dennis shifted awkwardly from foot to foot as she methodically rang up each bandana, neatly folding them and placing them in a large Michael’s-branded plastic bag. 

After what felt like hours, she turned back to the register and pushed a few buttons. “And are you a Michael’s rewards member?” 

“Uh, no—”

“I'd bet you’d like a Michael’s member as a reward,” Trinity muttered. Dennis elbowed her in the ribs and smiled at the cashier, who shot them both an alarmed look. He put down a ten dollar bill and grabbed Trinity by the arm, dragging her towards the exit. 

“Thank you,” he called over his shoulder, trying and failing to drown out Trinity’s yelps of frustration. “Have a nice day!”

He started out subtle. Monday, navy blue, right back pocket. 

If anyone asked, he could just say it got stuck there in the wash and he forgot to take it out. Or that it was there in case he needed to clean something off himself. Or that it was nothing at all. All believable white lies. 

He was less prepared for what to say if Robby asked, and that was a big if. The chances were small. Why would Robby make a point to look at his ass, anyway?

Dennis tried his best to be nonchalant. He nodded good morning to Robby as he walked in, hoping his calm demeanor masked the way his heart hammered in his chest. He felt like he may as well be wearing a big flashing neon sign over his head that said “PLEASE FUCK ME.”

“Morning, Whitaker,” Robby said. He took a long sip of his coffee. Dennis watched his throat bob and felt his own throat tightening. “What’s on tap for today?”

“I have a ladder fall in South 10.” Robby nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. Dennis took a deep breath and turned, walking in the direction of the patient room. If there was any time for Robby to notice, it would probably be right now.

Robby didn't say anything on their walk, but Dennis could feel the heat of his gaze on his back. He remained silent as Dennis spoke to the patient and nodded approvingly when he ordered a head CT. 

“Alright, I’ll check back in a little bit, okay, Mr. Morales?" Robby stepped out first, pushing back the curtain and holding it for him. Dennis made to move on to his next patient, an elderly woman experiencing a migraine, but a hand found his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Dr. Robby?” He blinked up at the older man. Robby looked—he didn't know how to describe it. He was looking at Dennis like he was a riddle he wanted to solve. Dennis swallowed nervously. 

“Is…is there something you need?”

Robby's eyes flicked down, down to where the navy blue fabric poked out of the pocket of his black scrubs. It was so quick that Dennis would have missed it if he weren’t staring at the man's face. 

“Ah, it's nothing. Never mind.”

Tuesday, light blue, right pocket. 

The bright color stood out much more against his dark scrubs than the day before. He didn't see Robby until about 45 minutes into their shift. Dennis was perched on a bed, performing CPR on a woman found unresponsive at a bus stop, when he heard Robby's gruff voice behind him.

“Hold compressions.” 

Dennis startled, almost falling to the floor, but Robby reached a hand out and steadied him. Dennis couldn’t help but stare at where Robby's gloved hand encircled his bicep, momentarily oblivious to the chaos that surrounded him.

“Alright, we got a heart beat. Let's get her a room. Dr. Santos?”

“On it, boss.”

Dennis blinked as he watched the patient be wheeled away. Robby's hand fell from his arm.

“You trying to start a new fashion trend?”

Dennis sucked in a breath. “I'm sorry?”

Robby reached down and tugged at the edge of the bandana. Dennis felt all the muscles in his body tense at the same time. 

“You, uh, wore one yesterday, too.” Robby let his gaze linger on the piece of fabric for another moment. Dennis swallowed, his mind racing. 

“Uh, I mean,” he stammered. “No? Just…just like having one on hand. Just in case.”

Robby quirked an eyebrow. “Just in case, huh?” His eyes dropped to Dennis’s lips. He licked them subconsciously, watching as the muscles in Robby’s jaw jumped. 

“Yes, sir. Just in case.”

Wednesday. Fuschia. Right pocket. 

Dennis knew this was the point of no return. The first two could be written off as coincidences; there was no way he could explain his way out of this color choice. 

He had just clocked in and was looking over the board when he heard a loud crash. Everyone's heads turned to find Robby crouching to pick up an iPad, cursing as he flipped it over to reveal a severely cracked screen. As he straightened himself, Dennis couldn’t help but notice how red Robby was. 

“Robby, I've been telling you, all that coffee's given you the shakes.” Dana shook her head and took the device from Robby, gently but firmly steering him towards the break room. “Go take ten. We can manage. Right, Whitaker?”

Dennis froze, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out. Dana frowned. 

“Uh, yeah,” he finally managed. “We got this, Dr. Robby.”

When Robby did return, he was far touchier than usual. His hands were all over Dennis, all the time—his shoulder, the back of his neck, the small of his back. His touch felt like a brand, burning him through his scrubs. At one point, Robby clapped him on the back so hard that the air was knocked from his lungs. He wouldn't be surprised if he found a hand shaped imprint on his skin later. 

Towards the end of their shift, Samira asked him about the bandanda, commenting on the color. “It's very…bright. Wouldn’t really think you’d be the type to pick that color out.”

Dennis shrugged. He knew that Robby was less than ten feet away at the nurses’ station, that his ears had surely perked up at their conversation. “i guess i just chose the color that called to me.” 

Thursday and Friday were the grand finale.

He wore mustard yellow on the right on Thursday. When Robby saw it, he gripped his pen so tight it snapped, sending black ink spurting all over his hands and shirt. Dennis offered the bandana to help him clean, which Robby accepted. 

When Robby emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, hands washed and scrub top changed, he passed the bandana back to Dennis, but held fast as he tried to take it. Dennis frowned. 

“Is something wrong?” 

He eyed where Robby’s hand gripped the fabric, his knuckles white. Robby cleared his throat and took a step closer.

“Do you know,” he started, his voice low and scratchy, “do you know what this—what these mean?”

Dennis took a deep breath. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir,” he whispered. He could barely hear his own voice over the blood rushing in his ears. 

Robby sighed, his grip loosening slightly, allowing Dennis to take the bandana. “Just…” he trailed off, rubbing his face. “Be careful. You don’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

Dennis put on as innocent a face as he could muster, batting his eyes and smiling serenely. “Of course, Dr. Robby. I'll be careful, I promise.”

He made sure Robby saw him put the bandana back in his pocket. Later that night, he held it to his face as he grinded against his vibrator, inhaling the faint scent of Robby’s cologne. 

His right pocket held his final bandana on Friday. The hunter green paired nicely with the shirt of the same shade he wore beneath his scrubs that he had borrowed from Trinity. 

“Laying it on heavy today,” she commented as they left the apartment. “Do I want to know what this color means?”

“No. You definitely do not.”

She shook her head and sighed. “And you’re still sure about this plan for tonight?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Alright, Huckleberry. Here’s hoping your berries get huckled.”

Robby looked like he was about to have a stroke when he saw Dennis enter the Pitt. Dennis just smiled and nodded as if nothing was out of the ordinary, taking his sweet time putting his bag away and bending over to tighten his sneaker laces. By the time he returned to central, Robby was bright red, arms wrapped around himself tightly. 

“Come on, Samira! When was the last time you got laid?”

Dennis’s attention quickly turned from the board to where Trinity was hounding Samira at her workstation. Samira turned and gave her a pointed look. “It is 7 in the morning, Dr. Santos. Please.”

“Look,” Trinity said, “all I'm saying is that a couple of us are going out to Club Pittsburgh tonight. Even Huckleberry’s coming, and you remember last time—”

“Hey, easy,” Dennis said, though there was a smile on his face. “I've learned my lesson. Too many shots makes Whitaker a sloppy boy.”

“Understatement of the century,” Trinity shot back. She turned her attention to Samira again. “You don’t want to be getting less action than Huck, do you?”

Dennis could feel Robby’s gaze burning into the back of his head as he eavesdropped. 

“I'll see how I feel at the end of our shift,” Samira acquiesced. Trinity took it as a victory, turning to Dennis and extending her palm for a high five. When they made contact, she gripped his hand and pulled him in, whispering in his ear. 

“He definitely heard all of that.”

“I owe you—I don't even know what I owe you, but I do.” 

Trinity grinned and pushed his shoulder. “Slow your roll, cowboy. Let's see if he actually shows.”

For once, Dennis was grateful for a busy shift. He worked mostly with McKay, occasionally jumping on cases with Samira when time allowed. All of his excitement and anxiety about the night roiled in his stomach, undeterred by the amount of distance he tried to put between himself and Robby through the hours. 

Keyword being tried. No matter how many cases he took on, or how often he tried to report to other senior residents, Robby somehow found a way to be by Dennis’s side more often than not. Whether it was “checking in” with him (pulling him aside in the hallway, hand on his lower back, eyes dark and searching) or tagging him in to work on trauma cases as they rolled in (standing so close Dennis could smell his aftershave, his voice low, guiding him through procedures and whispering praise for only him to hear), Dennis was unable to get away from the older man. 

By the time they clocked out, Dennis and Trinity had gathered a small group for the club. They were finalizing their plans by the lockers when Robby approached, instantly quieting the group.

“Oh, don’t let this old man rain on your parade,” he joked as he pulled his helmet and backpack from his locker. “Have fun, kids. And be safe.” His eyes found Dennis’s. Especially you.

Dennis just smiled. “Don't worry, captain. We will be.”

The club was packed when they arrived, a mass of sweaty bodies crowding the dance floor. Dennis, as usual, was the designated drink retriever, and he pushed his way through the throng to get their first round of shots. He could feel multiple pairs of eyes on him as he moved—really, as soon as he had stepped in the door. It wasn’t surprising; Trinity had really done a number on him. He wore a cropped t-shirt (show off that bod, babe!) paired with tight leather pants (they make your ass look fantastic, dude, you have to wear them) and chunky boots that added about an inch to his height. Trinity also did his makeup, which mostly consisted of glitter smeared across his cheek bones and eyeliner that was already starting to smudge. 

“You look like a slut,” she said when she finished. Dennis beamed. From Trinity, that was the highest compliment. 

He scanned the room after he put in his order at the bar. Robby actually showing up was a long shot, he was well aware, so he was already starting plan B, which was to find literally any other man that looked to be around his father’s age to bend him over. He brought back the first round of shots to their group—Trinity, Victoria, Samira, Mateo, and Kim—and was quickly sent back for another.

After their second round, Trinity dragged them all to the dance floor. Dennis could already feel the alcohol flowing through his veins, making him loose and giddy. When a man approached him a few minutes later and asked to buy him a drink, he accepted, shooting a wink to the group as he was whisked away.

“What's your name, sweetie?” Dennis took the man in; he was tall and lanky, wearing a plaid button down and jeans. Salt-and-pepper stubble covered his jaw, and his eyes were a startlingly clear blue. Judging by the wrinkles scattered around his eyes and mouth and the silver hair that topped his head, he was just what Dennis was looking for. 

“Dennis,” he said. He leaned in to the man, wrapping his arms around his waist. “What’s yours?”

“I'm Randy,” he said with a smile. He leaned down to whisper in Dennis’s ear, close enough to be heard over the music pumping through the nearby speakers. “But I think there’s something else you wanna call me, isn’t that right baby?”

Dennis pulled back with a giggle. “Maybe,” he teased. Randy shook his head and laughed.

“You're trouble, little one.” 

He didn't know the half of it.

He let Randy buy him a drink and take him back to the dance floor. As they moved to the music, Dennis continued to survey the crowd as best as he could, but he was starting to lose hope. It looked like Randy would have to do for tonight.

Dennis wrapped his arms around Randy's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. The older man went willingly, hungrily licking into his mouth. He tasted like gin and cigarettes. Randy's hands moved down to cup his ass cheeks, squeezing them and drawing him closer. Dennis groaned into his mouth, grinding against his leg.

As soon as it started, it stopped, with Dennis pulling back abruptly. Randy frowned, carding a hand through his sweaty curls. “Something wrong, baby?”

Dennis swallowed and shook his head, his eyes focused on something across the room. "Everything's fine. Let's keep dancing.”

He must have some sort of sixth sense—a Robby detector, or some shit like that. That was his only explanation for how he suddenly felt in his bones that the man was here, and how he was immediately able to locate him across the room. Robby was sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, the tight black t-shirt stretched across his chest paired with dark-wash jeans. 

He wasn't looking at Dennis—yet. Dennis could change that.

He dragged Randy across the floor until they were closer to where Robby sat. Robby was clearly scanning the crowd, just like Dennis was, and his eyes locked on to Dennis’s as he approached. Dennis shot Robby a wink and pulled Randy down by the collar of his shirt.

“You wanna fuck me, daddy?” As he spoke the words, he stared right at Robby. Hook. 

Randy sucked in a breath, his grip tightening on his waist. “Fuck yeah, baby.”

“Then show me.” Line.

One of Randy’s hands slipped up his shirt while the other snaked around his waist. Dennis tilted his head back and gasped as Randy nipped at his neck, his stubble sure to leave beard-burn on his sensitive skin. He focused his eyes on Robby once more—still watching, gaze dark, his glass gripped tightly in his hand. Dennis grinned and moved his hand to cup Randy through his jeans, stroking his cock over the fabric. Robby threw back the last of his drink and stood.

Sinker.

One second, Dennis was on the dance floor getting felt up by a stranger. The next, he was being pushed through the door of the men’s bathroom, the sound of a lock clicking ringing in his ears.

“Such a fucking tease,” Robby growled. He spun Dennis around and pushed him against the wall. Dennis squirmed in his grasp. 

“Robby—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Robby tutted. Dennis's stomach swooped at the condescending tone. “You know what to call me.”

Fuck. Dennis's head spun, a combination of the drinks and the lust and the mere sensation of Robby's hands on him. “Daddy,” he groaned, “daddy, please?”

Robby surged forward, crashing their lips together. It was hot and messy, teeth clicking and tongues tangling, all of the tension from the week bleeding out of them both. Robby slotted his leg between Dennis's thighs, and Dennis moaned into the kiss, eagerly rutting against him. 

“Tease,” Robby muttered again, pulling away to pepper kisses and bites along Dennis's jaw and neck. “Can’t fucking believe you, flagging at the hospital like a desperate slut—”

“You started it,” Dennis panted. Robby huffed out a laugh. 

“Yeah? Bet you loved that, fuck, bet you though couldn’t stop thinking about my cock.” He slipped his hands under Dennis's shirt, fingers tweaking his nipples. “Best wardrobe malfunction I've ever had.”

“Robby—daddy, I need, I need to—”

“Oh, I know what you need, baby,” Robby grinned. “You’ve made that loud and clear. On your knees.”

A full body shiver wracked Dennis's frame. He quickly sank to his knees, landing hard against the cold tile floor. Before Robby could even begin to undo his pants Dennis's hands were there, unbuckling his belt, pulling down his zipper. He mouthed at Robby's cock over his pants as his fingers fumbled with the buttons. Robby laughed and threaded his fingers through Dennis's hair. 

“Been dreaming about those pretty pink lips around my cock all week,” Robby grunted. He popped the button and Dennis eagerly pulled his cock out. Under normal circumstances, he would probably take more time to admire it, tease the head and map the veins with his tongue, but his main concern in this very moment was getting the whole thing in his mouth as fast as possible.

“Jesus—fuck, kid,” Robby gasped. His grip on Dennis's hair tightened and Dennis moaned around his length, relaxing his jaw and throat so he could take it as deep as possible. He wrapped a hand around what he couldn’t fit and bobbed his head quickly, lips stretched thin around Robby's girth. He flashed his eyes up to the man in question; his face was pinched in concentration. He was holding back. Dennis pulled off for a moment and used his saliva to pump his cock.

“You can fuck my face,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please?”

Robby's eyes widened, his cock twitching in Dennis's hand. He gave kitten licks to the head where precum was steadily dripping out.

“I’d love to—God, I need to, but I think I need to be inside you more.”

“Oh,” Dennis moaned, “fuck, yeah, yes—”

Dennis was hauled to his feet and turned around in the blink of an eye, face pressed against the graffiti covered wall. Robby groaned as he palmed his ass.

“These leave nothing to the imagination, baby. I didn't know you were such an attention whore.”

Dennis shook his ass, earning a smack from Robby. He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “And there’s a dozen other guys out there that wanna fuck me, so you better hurry up.”

“What a mouth,” Robby muttered. “Fuck, next time I’m gonna bend you over and spank you until you cry.”

Next time. Next time. 

It took effort from both of them to peel the leather pants off Dennis enough for Robby to spread him open–Dennis was thankful in that moment that he had forgone wearing underwear, and Robby clearly approved of this choice if his whispered curse and immediate grab of his ass cheeks was anything to go by. As Robby moved further south, Dennis realized distantly that he had never explicitly told Robby he was trans. Any worries that this could pose a problem disappeared from his mind as Robby quickly slipped two thick fingers inside him, spreading him open.

“So wet, fuck, all this for me, baby?” 

Dennis moaned and nodded, fucking himself on Robby’s fingers. “Please, need you—”

He cut himself off with a gasp as he felt Robby slide between his folds, his tip pressing against Dennis’s cock. “You think it’ll fit?”

“Jesus Christ," Dennis gasped. “Jesus Christ, please!”

A loud smack echoed through the bathroom, and Dennis's back arched at the sharp sting of Robby's hand on his bare ass. “Last I checked, that wasn’t my name, sweetheart.” 

“Daddy, please, I'm gonna die—”

“Easy,” Robby chided. Dennis’s nails scraped the wall, desperately searching for purchase as Robby pushed the head past his entrance. He already felt like he was being split in two.

“God,” Robby moaned, drawing out the vowel as he slid in inch by inch. “Been dreaming of this pussy for ages. Fuck, youre taking me so well, kid.”

Robby nipped Dennis's shoulder, his hands holding his hips in place with bruising force. Dennis could feel that he was all the way in, the rough denim of Robby's jeans chafing against his bare skin. He squeezed his cunt around Robby’s cock, eliciting a curse and another sharp smack from the older man. Then he began to thrust, driving into Dennis's cervix at an unrelenting pace. 

“How's that feeling, baby? You feel good? Nice and full?”

Dennis could barely form words, only able to respond in ragged gasps and moans. He tried to snake a hand down to stroke at his neglected cock, but Robby beat him to it, his thick fingers tugging on the sensitive nub.

“Let daddy take care of you, baby,” he rasped. “Let daddy make you feel good, okay?”

“Fuck,” Dennis moaned. He could feel his legs shaking, his stomach muscles tightening. “Oh my god, ‘m close, please—please, daddy!”

“Shit,” Robby huffed, “not gonna last if you keep talking like that.”

The hand on his cock sped up, and within moments Dennis was cumming. His vision was still fuzzy and his legs were about to give out when Robby began pounding into him with renewed vigor, slamming his limp body against the wall over and over. 

“Feels so good baby,” he rambled, “fuck me, I gotta pull out before I—”

“No,” Dennis whined, “please, inside, you can—”

“Shit!” Something warm and wet splashed across Dennis's lower back, and Robby's head fell against his shoulder, his breath coming in rapid pants. Dennis whimpered as Robby's cum dripped down the curve of his ass. His cunt pulsed around nothing, begging to be filled again. 

“Fuck. Jesus. You can’t just say that,” Robby gasped. Dennis shook his hips and whined again, and Robby grunted, squeezing his waist.

“Alright, hold on,” he whispered. Robby dragged something across Dennis's back, wiping the evidence of his orgasm away. Robby helped pull up his pants, an act which was inhibited greatly by the fact that his inner thighs were soaked, the leather sticking to his skin. When they were both sufficiently cleaned up, Robby leaned in to kiss Dennis gently, cupping his jaw with one hand. 

“You wanna come home with daddy, baby?” 

Dennis sighed and practically fell into Robby's arms. The older man grunted as he steadied him, then laughed. 

“I guess that's a yes. C'mon, kid. Let's get out of here.”

Dennis nodded and let Robby lead him towards the bathroom door. When they reached it, Robby turned and threw something in the trash can. Dennis looked to find his (now cum stained) bandana in the bin. Robby pulled him in by the waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“Won’t be needing that anymore, hm? I think you found what you were looking for.”