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It's been a shift from hell. Multiple MVCs, more death than they've seen in months. Dennis never wants to even look at a motorcycle again, and two-seater sports cars are on thin fucking ice.
All he wants to do is go home and take a bath and curl up on the couch with whatever godawful rom com Trinity picks. His plans change when he finds Robby's keys in his locker.
They're unassuming, a Ford key, a PTMC keychain, a single house key. They're a request.
By the time Robby makes it out to the parking lot, Dennis is in the right headspace. They both need this tonight.
The ride to Robby's townhouse is quiet. Dennis turns on the radio. Robby zones out in the passenger seat.
"The usual rules?" Dennis asks in Robby's driveway.
"Yes." It's terse, rough. Vulnerable.
"Anything I need to avoid?"
"No impact," Robby says instantly. "Not tonight."
"Thank you for telling me." Dennis squeezes his arm, the first touch they've shared in hours. "And if you need to stop?"
"Red." Like his cheeks are turning, like the tips of his ears, like his bloodshot eyes.
"Good."
...
They don't do this often. This isn't a romantic relationship, not really. They both see other people.
But this? This, they only share with each other.
Robby kneels on a cushion between Dennis' feet, freshly showered and hands bound behind his back. Dennis pets his hair with one hand and pretends to read with the other.
It takes fourteen minutes for Robby to stop shaking like a leaf, ten more for him to rest his cheek on Dennis' thigh.
"There's my sweet boy." Dennis sounds exhausted. Dennis is exhausted. "I'm proud of you for asking tonight. I know it's been a long day."
Dennis pulls his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. He tugs Robby's hair gently.
"Put that mouth to good use. All you need to focus on right now is what makes me feel good. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Robby looks fuck drunk already.
Robby sits up on his knees to envelop Dennis' cock in his mouth. Dennis can't keep his eyes open, but god, he wants to. He wants to see spit-slick lips wrapped around him and Robby's eyes glazed over with lust.
"Fuck, good boy." Dennis' cock goes from mildly interested to fully hard under Robby's lavish attention. He's going to have beard burn in weird places again. Worth it. "That's it, fuck. Jesus, your mouth."
Robby's happy little hum zips up Dennis' spine.
Robby would suck his cock for hours if he let him. They've done it before, tested how many orgasms Dennis can have just from this. That's not what they need tonight.
…
It started as a convenience.
Seeing your boss at a kink club isn't anyone's idea of the ideal Thursday, but the universe has its ways.
Dennis wasn't having luck finding anyone he clicked with, and then he heard about some "Daddy-dom looking sub wandering around like a lost puppy."
Robby was so good for him that first time, yielding and sweet and nothing like he is at work.
That's when they established the rules.
"I just need to be out of my head," Robby admitted, face tucked into Dennis' side. "I don't want to make decisions."
"You don't have to. I've got you."
…
Dennis manhandles Robby chest down onto the bed, checking his bonds to be safe.
"Color."
"Green," Robby rasps. "Please."
"I've got you." Dennis runs his hands over Robby's body, adjusting his position. Keeping him just a little off balance. "Good boy, just breathe for me."
"Yes, sir."
Fuck.
Dennis could get drunk on Robby's submission.
He scrambles out of the rest of his borrowed clothes and settles behind Robby. He's arching his back, hard cock hanging between strong thighs.
"Don't come without permission," Dennis warns.
"Yes, sir."
Dennis licks a broad flat swipe over Robby's hole. He wants to record the sound he gets in return.
He takes his sweet time opening Robby with his tongue, waiting until he starts begging to add fingers.
"Please, sir, fuck, need you, please." Robby's accent is thicker like this, a degree more Pittsburgh, slightly Russian around the edges. Dennis is the only one who gets to hear this version of him.
"Easy, baby. You'll take what I give you."
"Sorry, sir. Sorry sorry sorry."
Dennis rubs his back, fingers still in him.
"You don't have to be sorry. You just have to listen and be good. Color?"
"Yes, sir." Robby takes a deep breath. "Green."
…
Dennis brings Robby to the edge once on his tongue, twice on his fingers. He doesn't touch Robby's cock, letting it hang blood red and angry between his legs.
He takes his time before finally fucking him properly, his hands branding bruises into Robby's hips.
When Dennis thrusts, Robby's cock bounces against his ample stomach. He pulls Robby up onto his knees so he can plaster himself to the full length of his back.
"Wan' it. Wanna come, Den, please." Robby clenches, begging with all he has. "Please, sir, wanna please."
"You're such a good boy, holding on for so long." Dennis is too close to draw it out any longer. "Tell me who you belong to, and I'll let you come."
"You. You you you you you you, please, sir, fuck, you."
Robby almost screams when Dennis wraps a hand around his neglected cock.
"Good boy, come when you need to, that's it baby."
Like this, Dennis could take over the world. The most powerful man in the ER, who the world sees as a lothario with a penchant for female medical professionals, is at his mercy.
Robby comes with a cry, slumping forward into the duvet. Dennis follows him over, stutter-fucking him through their shared orgasm.
...
Robby is quiet, still floating off somewhere even once Dennis gets them clean. He curls up with his head on Dennis' lap, lets himself be pet and soothed. Dennis rubs his wrists with arnica lotion, soothing potential rope burn before it can settle in.
"You were so good for me." Dennis gets him to sip some water. "I'm so proud of you."
Later, when Robby surfaces and eats something, Dennis makes the usual noise about heading home. He makes it as far as the door to Robby's room, before --
"Stay."
Dennis pauses, holds his breath.
Then, raspy, quiet, finally--
"Please."