Archive of Our Own

Michael Robinavitch was no saint. 

Hell, he’s beat himself to death over everything he could possibly paint to be even the least bit morally incorrect. 

Which is why he couldn’t fucking understand how he ended up rushing himself to the restroom, locking himself in the nearest stall and squeezing his eyes shut, breathing in and out to will a hard-on away. He was far from an age of peak potency or uncontrollable boners, so he couldn’t make sense of being even the least bit turned on in the pitt of all places. 

Or rather, he was choosing not to accept what he had been tiptoeing around to be the truth for months now. 

His kind, blooming in confidence, ex farmboy intern– student doctor, Robby begrudgingly reminded himself– was becoming increasingly difficult to work with. Not of any real fault of his own, no, but because Robby was a fucking pervert apparently. 

Whitaker hadn’t really done much of anything to cause such a reaction below his belt. 

He had just…sat at the chair Robby draped his jacket over, nibbling at his bottom lip and bouncing his leg as he typed away on the computer. 

Fuck, just thinking about it was making Robby’s dick twitch.

He swiped his palm across his face, laughing into it when it cupped over his jaw. 

Student doctor, student fucking doctor.

–-

It happened another time after that, when Dennis was stuck with a patient who, ironically, hadn’t been flaccid in several hours. Before it was chalked up to a prescription drug side effect, just watching Whitaker hold an erect penis in his gloved hand was enough to lead his mind down a dark tunnel he had to fight to claw out of. He stepped away as soon as Whitaker gave his plan of action and scurried off to watch Javadi deal with a particularly gnarly infected blister. 

It got rid of his developing hard-on instantaneously.

Despite several other strange moments where his dick seemed to not respect his morals when it came to Whitaker, Robby never cared to actually put any distance between them. He continued maneuvering Whitaker anywhere he wanted, patting and rubbing at his neck and shoulders, praising him just a bit more than the others to be able to watch his big eyes sparkle with youthful hope. Something like satisfaction swirled in his chest whenever Dennis flushed at the praise, pressing his lips into a sheepish smile.

God– and when, by accident (he tells himself), Robby squeezed his large hand along the back of his neck, tugging at the cute little curls at his nape. Whitaker visibly shuddered and let out a small noise, clearing his throat immediately afterwards in an attempt to cover it up. But Robby had heard it, felt his shiver and kept his hand in its place for a moment too long. 

He realized he was royally screwed when he felt blood rush south while he was under the warm spray of the shower head. 

He avoided thinking about his job as soon as he hopped on his bike and left the premises, but his interactions with Whitaker were making that really hard to do. Just the thought of Dennis looking up at him for approval on diagnosis and course of treatment, waiting for Robby to say “great job”, seemingly expecting an actual pat on the back. 

Oh yeah, he was most definitely fully hard and throbbing at this point. 

Realistically, and most rationally, Robby thinks he should run freezing cold water over his dick to calm himself. But he looks down and sighs, presses his forehead against the shower wall, his right hand moving down faster than he anticipates. 

It took several minutes of slick tugs to stop fighting his brain’s thoughts of anything other than his intern, cursing when the image of Dennis on his knees with his cock stuffed down his throat infiltrated his mind and only brought him significantly closer to his orgasm. He imagined shoving Dennis’ head so far down that his nose pressed into his pubic hair, thrusting into his fist at the same time that the Whitaker in his imagination began to struggle to take it, and that was it for him.

Watching his cum swirl down the shower drain was humbling.

-

Robby was masturbating so much he thought he was aging backwards. He had felt immensely guilty about it the first 3-ish times during post nut clarity, until he began to consider the facts. 

Yeah, Whitaker was his intern. His 20-something year old intern, and Robby was twice his age. That was arguably the most controversial part of this entire situation.

However, the first thing to break his streak of guilt was that Whitaker wasn’t straight, overjoyed when he overheard him and Santos talking about their dating lives while charting, even if the thought of him involved with another man ignited something bad in his chest. 

Whitaker also stumbled over his words when Robby was particularly heavy with his touches and words of affirmation, looking up at him like he was explaining the world. That had to mean something, right?

“Dr. Robby!” 

He stopped in his tracks, looking past the computers to seek the location of the voice. It was coming from Santos, who was standing right beside Whitaker who had a panic-struck expression on his face.

“A few of us are heading out for drinks at ‘The Grasshopper’ after the shift is over. You busy?”

Robby looked off to the side, putting his hands on his hips and blowing out a puff of air, pretending like he was thinking. Drinking with Whitaker– with his interns was always a line he refused to cross, having turned them down many times in the past. 

“Y’know what I’m not too sure about that, Santos–”

“Oh, that’s too bad. ‘Cause Huckleberry here suggested I invite you because of how- what was it that he said? Oh right, how…stressed you’ve been.” 

“Uh, I-I wouldn’t say stressed, Dr. Robby.” Whitaker jumped in and let out a nervous laugh, shooting a look towards Santos.

Robby crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, wanting more than anything to say ‘I’m not stressed, just distracted and really fucking horny for my intern that just so happens to be you.’

“I wouldn’t say stressed either, Dr. Whitaker,” Robby genuinely began to consider taking them up on the offer, which he had never done before.

“My plans may or may not get cancelled.” 

His plans after work were to jerk off and sleep.

“Soooo, that’s a maybe, right?” Santos smiled and seemed satisfied at that answer, letting Robby walk off with a shrug of his eyebrows.

—

Robby was dead-set on heading home for the night until he found himself steering his bike the complete opposite direction of his home and towards the bar Santos had mentioned earlier.

He was most definitely not a difficult man to convince, either.

The shift had ended almost an hour ago, meaning that everyone was probably a drink (or several, considering his coworkers) deep by the time he parked his bike on the side opposite of the bar’s street corner.

As soon as he entered, he was able to spot the familiar backs and faces he had the privilege of just having spent 12 hours with. 

Garcia spotted him first, tapping Santos on the shoulder and saying something Robby couldn’t make out. Santos spun around in her stool, taking a swig of what looked like beer.

“Look who showed up! Ditched your plans after all?” 

Upon hearing her speak up, Whitaker looked over his shoulder and Robby fought everything in him to not immediately meet his gaze, instead exchanging greetings towards Santos, Garcia, and everyone else. 

It wasn’t until Santos pointed the rim of her bottle towards the only empty stool on their side of the bar, next to Whitaker, that he acknowledged him.

Taking a deep breath, Robby slid onto the stool, his thigh having no other choice but to press against Whitaker’s. 

Before he could offer a greeting, the bartender hurried to take Robby’s order, an ‘old fashioned.’

Whitaker considered his own drink of choice in comparison, a half-full vodka cranberry, and took a sip. He felt buzzed– no, more like tipsy. He was conscious of how warm and pleasantly loose his body felt, lips feeling a little numb. 

“How many drinks have you had, Dr. Whitaker?” It wasn’t really a question of concern for anyone except himself, seeing as his intern was visibly, adorably flushed and most definitely inebriated.

“Dennis,” Whitaker’s eyes were glossy, lashes fluttering.

“You should- you can also call me Dennis, just so you know,”

After a beat, he cleared his throat.

“Probably a little too much. Trinity can be really, really persistent.” He laughed a little as he said it, licking his lips and choosing to down the rest of his drink.

“That definitely sounds like Dr. Santos.”

Robby smiled and took a big gulp of the drink that had been placed in front of him. He should’ve asked for it without the maraschino cherry.

Hands suddenly reached across Dennis’ space, forcing him to lean back and nearly stumble, Robby’s arm reflexively shooting out to steady him with a ‘woah.’ Trinity had placed two shots of a clear liquor in front of the pair, not at all caring that she almost sent her roommate backwards

“Thank Garcia for this round, she lost a bet.”

Dennis looked at the shot glasses in front of him and blinked, straightening his back when he finally processed the weight of Robby’s large, steadying hand splayed between his shoulder blades. He tried to keep still in fear of the contact ending faster than he wanted, a plethora of curse words rolling by in his brain like a jumbotron. It was weirdly intimate somehow. Any contact like this would feel normal to Dennis had they been at the hospital, but this was not the hospital.

Robby pulled away and cleared his throat.

“You sure you can take it?”

Robby beat himself over the head in his mind for immediately taking his own words in a dirty way, gesturing towards the shots to save himself. 

From the expression on Whitaker’s face, Robby was clearly the only one who misinterpreted himself for a second there. 

“The uh- the shot.” As if it wasn’t already clear.

Dennis laughed, sliding one of the shots closer to him.

“I’ll take it if you do, Dr. Robby.”

In all honesty, Robby could’ve told Dennis to drop the honorifics for the sake of equal footing outside of work, but he really liked how it sounded coming out of his mouth.

“Wouldn’t want to leave you hanging, Dr. Whitaker.” 

They held their shots and on the count of three, threw it back into their mouths. Robby cringed a little, though not as obviously as Dennis did. Straight up liquor didn’t seem as popular with the kids these days.

“Really wish I got a lime and salt with that one.”

–

“So, do you mind sharing what your plans were, Dr. Robby?”

Dennis looked infinitely more relaxed after the few minutes it took for the tequila and vodka cranberry to settle in. He would sometimes look away from Robby’s gaze when they were at the hospital, but he was holding it exceptionally well now, leaning so close to him it was bordering on inappropriate. 

The idea of how they must’ve looked to their coworkers made Robby feel just a little ashamed, though that feeling was quickly replaced with how pretty his intern looked with flushed cheeks.

Robby took another long sip of his old fashioned at that question, stopping once the only thing left in his cup were a few ice cubes and the cherry he wasn’t going to touch.

“Nothing all that important,” ‘Masturbate to the thought of you begging me to let you come.’ 

“Just…old guy stuff, you young people wouldn’t understand.” He took the easy way out, certain that his intern would laugh it off and move on.

There was an unexpected beat of silence from Whitaker, who he hadn’t noticed had turned almost completely to face him, both of his thighs on either side of Robby’s knee, leaning his chin on his palm.

“I’m not that young.” 

Robby shot him a questioning look.

“C’mon, don’t kiss up to me off the clock. I’m old enough to be your dad.”

At that, Dennis seemed to think, his eyes considering Robby for a second before landing on his finished drink, humming in agreement.

“Yeah…” Dennis reached over and picked the cherry out of Robby’s cup, putting it in his mouth and keeping his eyes trained on his, “I guess you are.” 

He didn’t bite into it immediately, just kind of held it between his lips, sucking before he did. All while never breaking fucking eye contact.

Robby was either seriously drowning in the deep end of his testosterone-filled misery, or his alcohol tolerance was so bad that he was straight up hallucinating. But his mouth was moving faster than he could regulate.

“Is that something you like?”

He was about to apologize, ready to head out and put himself in a self-induced coma.  Whitaker's fuzzy gaze was suddenly locked on Robby’s lips, seemingly scooting closer, until Robby’s knee was dangerously close to the warmest part between his thighs. 

Robby clenched a fist and kept himself ungodly still.

“Maybe you could help me figure that out.”

Screw HR, screw what little morals he had left by this point. He would be stupid not to jump at the chance, he would be completely embarrassing this young man if he didn’t take him up on the offer. He attempted to rationalize, ultimately deciding that if he was going to get fired, he might as well go out with a goddamn bang.

“Let’s go to the restroom, yeah?”

Dennis’ lashes fluttered a little at that, and he nodded, dropping the cherry stem into the cup and darting his tongue out to run over his lower lip.

“Yeah, please.”

Hopping off their stools, Robby slid a hand behind Whitaker’s neck, pulling him close to his side and guiding him toward the sign pointing towards the restroom. 

Luckily (or maybe unluckily in the case that someone interrupts them), the men’s restroom was one of those single-rooms with a lock. Pushing Whitaker inside, he locked the door behind them and turned to face his intern, who looked up at him with those big eyes of his, expectant.

Robby was an unwatched pot of boiling water, both arms reaching for Dennis, one at his waist and the other by the side of his neck. Dennis whimpered, allowing Robby to kiss him and push him until his back was pressed into the sink. Dennis was gripping onto his jacket, sighing into every meeting of their open mouths and sounding so goddamn cute. Robby could’ve convinced himself he was dreaming, already feeling guilt crawl up his throat.

“Hey, I’m really– fuck, Whitaker you have no idea what you do to me.” Robby almost sounded like he was growling it, hands travelling under Whitaker’s pullover sweater and pressing into his waist. He wouldn’t stop trying to lean upwards to get Robby to just keep fucking kissing him.

“Listen, listen to me,” Robby grabs his shoulders and has to push him back to still him.

Dennis whines, lips parted and panting, hungry to get his lips back on Robby’s. 

He was losing his patience, trying to give his intern a chance to push him away or tell him to stop. 

“You have no idea what you’re getting into–”

Dennis sounded nearly annoyed when he cut Robby off.

“Then why did you bring me here? Just do whatever you want to me sir please, please, please.” 

Robby was sickeningly hard, wanting more than anything to fuck Whitaker’s face but deciding that if this were to be his one and only chance, he would make it worth his intern’s while. 

“Whatever I want, huh?” 

Robby’s hands dropped from where they held Dennis still, sloping down his waist and stopping at his hips, pulling at the scrubs he still wore and tugging them down. Dennis leaned back with both hands against the edge of the sink, stepping out of the scrubs and nibbling on his lower lip when Robby held him by his hips, simply thumbing at the waistband of his boxers. They were cute, kinda short, a plain dark blue that felt strangely expected of Dennis, though he only ever really thought about him without the underwear.

Dennis broke him from the stare over his thighs and hipbones, leaning up to kiss him again and Robby made sure to press him backwards with his body, receiving a little gasp when one of his large hands came down to pet at him outside of his boxers. He was warm and he could feel how wet he was already, groaning into Dennis’ mouth.

“Is this for me?”

Whitaker nods, and Robby was of course, expecting him to, but it still made him throb nonetheless.

He had imagined this situation a million times over, when he’d finally slip his hand between his intern’s legs. In the hospital, at his place, at Dennis’ apartment where he’d make him scream into a pillow so Santos wouldn’t hear them, in a bathroom like this one. 

When he did shove his hand underneath his boxers, Dennis was drenched. Robby’s calloused, long fingers dipped into his slit and rubbed upwards to press against his clit, just touching and feeling him. 

Dennis felt a little bit like a science experiment, with the way his boss was just feeling him up, trying to get a good sense of how sensitive he was before he could begin to rub circles at his clit. Immediately, Dennis was moaning without much restraint, leaning his forehead on Robby’s shoulder and feeling his knees get a little wobbly when he started rubbing a little faster. He was so wet he could hear it, his tipsy state not being enough for him not to feel even just a little embarrassed at that, flushing to the tips of his ears.

“Fuck, feels good Dr. Robby–”

“Language, Whitaker.” Robby meant it mostly to poke fun at him, but he was half surprised when Dennis exhaled a laugh and a quiet ‘sorry.’

It was a few minutes of this, of dipping low enough to press the tips of his fingers against his hole only to continue rubbing circles over his clit, making Dennis tremble and attempt to shy away from his hand (even though there was nowhere to go) every so often. 

Robby pulled his hand away, much to Dennis’ displeasure. He looked up at Robby with an expression that almost looked anxious, before Robby grabbed his hips and spun him around so he was bent over the sink instead. Whitaker’s boxers pooled to the floor, shivering when Robby spread his thighs apart with his knee, prodding at his cunt for a second before pushing in a finger. 

The older man felt himself drool at how soft and warm he felt, pushing in to his knuckle and beginning a pace. 

Dennis’ left hand was flat on the sinktop, his right hand serving as a chew toy because he knew he would make a fool of himself. 

Maybe too quickly, Robby pressed a second finger alongside the first, stretching Dennis with every pump of his fingers, quickening his pace when Whitaker groaned and pushed his ass back against his hand. 

As soon as Dennis drops his head, exposing the back of his flushed neck and damp curls, letting out muffled whines, Robby focuses on rubbing the tips of his fingers on that same spot. He was squirming, his voice much higher than usual.

It was getting to be nearly too much, Robby’s hard on pressing into Whitaker’s hip, his left hand raising to hold him down by the back of his neck, the other hand busy fucking in and out of him.

A third finger was added alongside the other two, Robby’s wrist beginning to cramp.

“That’s it, you’ve been so good, taking everything I give you.” He sounded a bit breathless, rutting ever so gently against Dennis’ hip to relieve some of the pressure.

“Robby, Dr. Robby, gonna come,” Dennis sobbed, feeling his legs go jelly-like because he wasn’t at all being treated gently, his climax fast approaching and his body tensing. He’s muffled against his sweater sleeve, babbling and begging nonsensically.

“Oh my god, coming daddy–” 

His knees buckle and he’s coming, drenching his boss’ still-moving fingers. Robby was too preoccupied with the feeling of his intern coming on his fingers and fucking him through the aftershocks to process what Dennis just fucking called him. As soon as he did, he was so sure he would pass out and die.

Robby huffed out a laugh, almost incredulously.

“Yeah? You did so good for daddy.” He ran his fingers against his clit to hear him whine and watch him shudder in sensitivity. 

Dennis, now slightly less foggy in the head, could not believe he just called his boss ‘daddy.’ He wiped at some of the tears that gathered at his lash line from the intensity of his orgasm, trying to find the words to potentially apologize. He looked over his shoulder at Robby who was shoving his scrubs and underwear down, catching Dennis eye his leaking cock with a hard swallow. The apology seemed completely unnecessary.

“Take this off.” Robby pulled up the back of his sweater, Dennis immediately scrambling to tug it off the rest of the way.

Christ, Robby was so fucking hard that it was becoming genuinely a bit painful. It was worse when he couldn’t look away from Dennis’ fluttering pussy, flushed and soaked from all that Robby had done to him. Had they had more time, he would’ve spanked it a bit and made him count. 

He needed him now. 

“Gonna have to make this quick. Think you can be good for me?” 

Dennis, despite the slight fear of the sheer size of that thing, was inebriated enough to not hesitate.

“Yeah,”

Then he takes a breath, suppresses a smile and corrects himself, “Yes, sir.” 

Robby rubs the length of his cock against his cunt, the tip catching on his clit. He fucks over him just like this, wetting his cock with every slide against him. It was at that moment he considered the fact that not keeping a condom with him was a stupid move for a doctor. 

Fuck it. None of the imagined versions of this scenario included anything less than fucking Dennis raw.

He held Dennis’ hip and pressed the head in slowly, feeling himself twitch inside him as he bottomed out. Robby grew dizzy, the warm, wet heat constricting his cock. He had to take a moment, so sure he was about to come right there.

Dennis felt it in his throat, hands braced against the sink, arching his back ever so slightly more as he tried to relax, feeling his walls flex around the intrusion. It had been a long fucking while since he took anything close to this big. A twinge of envy infiltrated the mush of his brain and left as soon as it came.

Robby wrapped both hands around his neck for leverage, raising him up from his position so he had no choice but to look at himself in the reflection. He didn’t squeeze, but his hands were big enough that they encompassed almost the entirety of his neck, and the sight turned Dennis on so much he had to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth. 

“If I hadn’t come here, would you have opened your legs for anyone willing to fuck you, hm?” 

Robby was probably overstepping, essentially slut-shaming his intern, but the words came out way too goddamn easily. Would he have gotten drunk enough to let Langdon do this to him had he not shown up? Abbot? A stranger at the bar? The images passing through his mind were enough to actually anger him, driving his hips to begin a pace. 

Whitaker’s lips parted in a whine, attempting to shake his head ‘no’, making eye contact with him in the mirror when Robby moved to press his mouth to his ear, one hand holding his neck still and the other moving down to stroke over his top scars and nipples. 

“Answer me.”

He was grinding into him, nestled deep and giving short thrusts that felt like they were a lot more intense than they were.

Dennis felt like his breath was being punched out with every roll of Dr. Robby’s hips, every attempt at a response coming out almost meekly. All inhibitions had completely left his body, inhaling shakily and exhaling out an actual sentence.

“No, ah-no, ‘m just for you daddy.” 

Robby feels a flip low in his stomach at that, hissing out a groan.

“Oh, is that right?” 

He hums, reaching an arm around to lay his ring and middle finger over Dennis’ cunt, rubbing rough circles over his little cock and feeling him shudder.

Robby was going to kill him. 

At the same time, Robby picks up the pace, cursing in Dennis’ ear, beginning to chase his orgasm.

Then, like it couldn’t be timed any worse, there’s a knock on the restroom door and the jiggling of the knob.

“Hey, Huckleberry! You in there?” 

Trinity. Dennis gasped, Robby’s palm pressing against his mouth to stop him from making any noise, willing himself to stop thrusting though he was still balls fucking deep in him.

Robby cursed, taking a moment before he projected his voice in the direction of the door.

“Right here with him, Dr. Santos!”

There was a second of silence on the other side. 

“Wh- Dr.Robby? Why are you…holy shit,” She sounded like she was laughing. Dennis whimpered, mortified. She was going to grill the shit out of him tomorrow.

“Whitaker was- he felt sick, we’ll be out soon!” 

“No worries, boss, take your time!” She was definitely fucking laughing. 

Robby sighed, listening for any indicator that Santos was still there, slowly pulling his hand away from its place over his intern’s mouth when he decided there wasn’t.

They shared a look through the mirror, Dennis’ flush spread through to his chest.

“That was close,” Robby huffed out a laugh, “still think you can be good for me?” 

He brought his hand back down to Dennis’ pussy, slowly pulling his hips back and snapping forward, being almost caught not at all having dampened the mood.

“Uh-huh.” Dennis nodded and sucked his lower lip into his mouth, moaning when Robby wrapped his other arm across his chest for a better hold to fuck into him. 

Tucking the side of his face against the younger’s ear, Robby rubbed circles into his clit and groaned when it made Dennis clutch around him tighter.

“Such a good boy, perfect fucking cunt.” Robby allowed himself to fuel his own fast approaching climax, murmuring obscenities and breathing heavily right into his intern’s ear.

Dennis’ lips were parted in a silent moan, brows knitted as both his hands drew up to grip Dr. Robby’s forearm pressed up underneath his chin. Robby’s hand was moving so quickly, pounding into him so hard he wasn’t sure if he was dizzy from the alcohol or because his body couldn’t process the amount of pleasure he was receiving.

Robby was completely lost in it, opening his mouth to suck and bite at the side of Dennis’ neck, heavy balls slapping against his pussy with every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Oh, god,” Dennis sounds beautifully overwhelmed, Robby thinks, voice sounding so much higher now, "'m gonna come again.”

“Yeah? Lemme feel it, c’mon.” Robby was relentless now, feeling Whitaker tense up with a broken cry, his legs shaking as he soaked both of them with his second orgasm. 

Robby worked him through it before relenting and moving his hand to grip at his hip, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he was approaching his own climax. He wanted to finish inside him, press his cock to his cervix and force his spend as deep as he could, but as reckless and stupid Robby has been, he wasn’t that stupid.

“Need you to do one more thing for me, okay?” Robby pulls out and bites his lip as he watches Dennis’ pussy flutter around nothing, spinning him around so they faced one another.

“Get on your knees and help daddy finish.”

Dennis does as told and drops to kneel on top of his scrubs and underwear, looking up at his attending from underneath his lashes and wrapping a hand around the base. He wets his lips, feeling a hand against the back of his head as he takes him into his mouth, Robby’s hips bucking forward into the wet warmth.

Dennis kept his tongue pillowed against the underside, bobbing his head with both of his hands pressed to the backs of Robby’s thighs. In all honesty, Robby felt a pang of jealousy, seeing as his intern was undoubtedly skilled at giving head. Like a small punishment, he gripped the hair in his hand, using his hold to pull him back and forth on his cock. Dennis moaned around him at that, digging his nails into the skin of Robby’s thighs.

Robby fucked his mouth, the sounds coming from his throat sounding downright pornagraphic and fuck– Robby really fucking hopes this isn’t the last time they do this.

Dennis stares up at him because he knows the eye contact is driving him crazy, tears brimming at his waterline.

It wasn’t long at all before Robby was grunting, slowing down so he could hold Whitaker’s head still and release into his pliant little mouth with a mantra of ‘good boy, good fucking boy, take it.’

After a moment, Dennis swallows and releases Robby’s cock with a soft pop, running his tongue along the underside and along the crown before being gently pushed away.

“Keep doing that and we’re never getting out of here.”

Dennis stood up on shaky limbs, Robby helping him up and tucking himself back into his pants. 

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me.” Dennis smiled, letting Robby pull his sweater over his head.

–

Dennis woke up in his bed the next morning, blinking away sleep before shooting up in bed, memories of last night overriding the small headache accumulating at his temples. 

He checks his phone, seeing he most definitely slept in, and calls Trinity, positive she had slept over at Yolanda’s.

The phone barely rings before she picks up.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, Huckleberry.”

“I- you didn’t…tell anyone, right?” 

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the call. He could practically see her trying not to laugh.

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed you two were gone for a really long time, if that’s what you’re asking,” 

Dennis presses a hand to his forehead and sighs. 

“How was the ride home on that motorcycle?” 

She busts out laughing then, and Dennis hangs up.

When he heads to the bathroom shortly after, his eyes grow wide at the faint sight of bite marks on his neck.