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Dennis's feet sway, heels knocking into the drawers beneath the exam bed. The room is quiet, as Robby settles in one of the three chairs across from where Dennis waits. They look at each other, Robby raising his brows in a silent question, and Dennis turning away in response. His hands fidget in his lap as his cheeks redden.
"They see all kinds of stuff, Den," Robby says after a second. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about."
"Not what you said last night," Dennis protests, remembering the way Robby hovered over him, kissed his mouth and muttered about how humiliating it all must be.
"Low blow, kid. We both know you enjoy that just as much as I do."
Fine. Maybe he does. Maybe he's really into Robby degrading him as he fucks Dennis into the mattress. Maybe he's into almost anything Robby says to him, as long as he kisses him after and pets his hair and coos about how much he loves him, really, and how he doesn't mean any of it.
Dennis just looks at his hands and crosses his ankles to try and still the anxious movements.
"Really," Robby continues. He leans over and reaches his hand out and barely pokes Dennis's kneecap to get his attention. "I promise you, there is nothing to be scared of. It will probably be a little awkward, but when we're done, we can go get lunch and then bum around at home all day after. Sound good?"
Robby made sure he wasn't working, because Dennis had begged him to come with, because he didn't want to be alone. The thought of having to explain to someone new—Robby said he got Dennis an appointment with his general, but Dennis hasn't been to a primary since moving—something so personal, and ridiculous, frankly, without someone there to give him any semblance of comfort was daunting at the best of times.
And there were perks of Robby being the chief attending. Including conveniently making sure they had overlapping days off, sometimes, of which they could use to go to doctor's appointments.
"Yeah," Dennis says finally. His voice is small, but lazing around on Robby's couch, watching some stupid sitcom while they take turns feeding each other is one of Dennis's favorite activities. He spares a glance up, finding Robby watching him fondly. "Um, yeah. Sounds great. Do you know if Jack's working?"
Robby hums, cocking his head as he thinks before ultimately shaking his head. "Don't think so. I'll text him and ask him to come over."
Getting Dennis and Robby to have overlapping days off is an ask in and of itself, so having a day where all three of them get to rest and do nothing? Nigh impossible. Dennis can't stop the grin from pulling at his cheeks.
Robby pulls his phone out and types away, making digital clicking sounds because, despite being intimately aware of how disruptive a phone going off can be, he refuses to silence his. Dennis teases him about it, but he says that he likes the optics of it and refuses to hear him out further. Dennis just thinks he can't hear when it vibrates.
He inhales and tries to sit up straighter. He can do this. And, if not, he can be kind of bratty about it, and knows his boyfriends will coddle him later, because they're all a little obsessed with each other and Jack and Robby enjoy little more than pleasing him.
We've had plenty of time together to make each other happy, they've said when he's brought up how he feels the attention is a little unevenly distributed. And we still do, but we want to make you happy, too.
And God, do they ever, even if they both try to lavish him with stupid little nothings—food and clothes and nice shampoo, because they like running their hands through his hair so much—but also far too nice things that he'd balk at the price tags of if they let him think about it for even a moment. Christmas had been a strange mix of feeling grateful and guilty with each present handed his way, while he'd only been able to scrounge up enough for one each.
After a few moments of more comfortable silence, only broken up by the crinkle of paper beneath Dennis, there's a soft knock on the door before it opens up. In walks a doctor, maybe a few years younger than Robby, with a far more stern resting expression than Dennis is entirely comfortable with. Immediately, his shoulders straighten, and his eyes angle downcast to the floor before him.
"Dennis Whitaker?" he says, taking a step into the room, angled toward a sink in the corner across from the table. But he stops when he sees Robby, cocking his head. "Michael?"
"Dr. Abbot," Robby says in return.
"Wasn't expecting to see you today." Dr. Abbot makes it to the sink and begins washing his hands, turning to talk to Robby like an old friend. Dennis shouldn't be surprised, he knows Robby sees him as primary, but that doesn't make the scenario any less strange. "You're not my patient, right?"
"Oh, no. Dennis over there." He juts his chin forward to point at Dennis, who shrinks under the sudden attention. "He's your guy."
Dr. Abbot hums and walks over to Dennis.
"I'm going to do some vitals real quick, alright?" He asks. Dennis just nods, chewing the inside of his lip.
He asks Dennis to stand for his height, and weight, then sit back down to gather his blood pressure, heart rate, and temperature. Once everything is gathered, Dr. Abbot hums noncommittally, and begins putting the information into the computer. Dennis glances at Robby, who gives him a slight nod, but doesn't say anything.
"Alright, Dennis. That all looks good. Now, you filled out all your contact information, which is good. We don't need to go through all of that." Dr. Abbot says, pulling up what Dennis assumes is another section of his chart. "I see I have you down for a prostate exam? You're rather young for that, aren't you?"
There shouldn't be some pit that's opening up in Dennis's stomach at the words. They're formal, standard procedure. Dennis gets it, really, but that doesn't make him any less uncomfortable.
"Um. Yeah."
"Do you have a history of prostate cancer you're worried about?"
He could lie. He could say yes, my father had it, and I'm being proactive. That would be easier, right. But, he looks to Robby, who smiles and sits back, unworried.
"No, Sir."
Dr. Abbot pauses for a moment before pushing his chair back from the screen, and taking Dennis in. Even with his arms crossed, and his posture leaning back, open otherwise, he doesn't seem mean, per se. Curious, maybe? In some other time, Dennis would enjoy the way he's being looked over.
Before Dr. Abbot can ask, Robby says, "Dennis has been a little sensitive, recently. We wanted to make sure everything's alright."
Both heads whip toward Robby—Dennis, cheeks mottled, mouth open and floundering for words, while Dr. Abbot looks almost amused. At least he's getting an answer, something to go off of.
For a few seconds, Dr. Abbot continues to look at Robby, before returning his attention upon Dennis.
"Sensitive?"
"Yes, Sir," Dennis says softly. More than anything, he wants to tuck tail and leave, pretending this never happened. But Dr. Abbot doesn't seem judgemental. Robby apparently trusts him, and Dennis knows firsthand that doctors are never as embarrassed about what their clients come to them for as the patients are. Robby was right; they see everything. He knows this.
When Dennis doesn't give any further explanation, though, Dr. Abbot raises a brow and asks softly, "may I ask in what way?"
The expression makes something stir in Dennis's stomach. He glances at Robby, who is watching the interaction with an upsetting neutrality. It should comfort him, but it doesn't. Does Dennis need to beg Robby to explain it? No. God, Robby would probably just tell him that he's a big boy, and he can talk about it himself. He's already done some of the leading for him, anyway.
It'll be good, he tells himself. Robby will be extra sweet tonight, and he'll make sure Jack knows how well I did, too.
"Um, yeah. So, when-when I have sex. Penetrative, that is. I, uh, orgasm kind of quickly."
"Is that so?"
Dennis nods.
"And Robby was saying that he's, um, never seen that before. In any of his partners. And I don't have as much experience, but it's kind of a new development, so he thought, maybe my prostate was, like, swollen, or something?"
The words sound stupid coming out of his mouth, but Dr. Abbot just hums, and nods slowly, and says, "I see. Well, I'm glad you came in. Many men ignore potential issues with their prostate until it's too late."
"Yeah," Dennis says. "I-I know. I'm an R1, and Robby mentioned it, so it's… yeah. We just thought, to be safe, y'know?"
"I do. And that's good. Being proactive about your health is a good thing."
Dr. Abbot turns around to file something on the computer, fingers typing deftly. Dennis can't help but watch. He's given prostate exams before—he's done worse than stick a couple fingers up someone's ass—fuck, he's taken more than a couple of fingers. But there's a difference between doing it, or fingering for the sake of sex, in the heat of the moment, and having this kinds of exam done in the sterility of a fucking doctor's office.
Once he finishes up, Dr. Abbot stands and grabs a pair of gloves from a box attached to the wall. They're not put on immediately, rather, he rummages through a drawer, and grabs what appears to be a bottle of lube.
"Okay, so, you said you're an R1, yes? I assume you have experienced a prostate exam?"
"Not gotten one, no. But I've given them."
"Great. Then you can probably figure out what these are for, but just in case." He shows off the gloves and lube to both men before putting the blue latex over his hands. Dennis catches the light glinting off of a gold chain on his wrist. Huh. Didn't seem the type. "Obviously, we want to be safe. And the lube is to help glide in, to minimize discomfort. I'll just use one finger, and press inside to find the prostate and feel for anything that may seem abnormal. Sound good?"
Dennis nods. He turns to find Robby almost smiling. It's not present on his lips, but his eyes are bright. Fucking chief attending at a teaching hospital. Of course he gets off to Dennis being talked through a prostate exam.
"Would you prefer Michael step out of the room?"
That's probably standard procedure. This is a fairly intimate process, after all. But Dennis shakes his head fervently. Robby has seen far worse than press a single finger up his ass. Robby has done far worse than press a single finger up his ass.
"Alright, no problem. Just gotta ask." Dr. Abbot pulls out a gown from a separate drawer and offers the folded fabric to Dennis. "If you'd like, you may put this on. You don't have to—this is a fairly quick test—you can also just remove your bottoms, and that should work well enough."
Dennis looks for a moment at the cheap fabric gown in his hands. The ones in the ER suck, and this doesn't look much better. Stripping entirely only to put on what amounts to little more than a sheet of paper seems less than appealing to him. And, worst case scenario, Dennis can just stare at Robby the whole time and pretend this isn't the most humiliating thing he's ever experienced. So he just shakes his head and quietly says, "no, that's alright. I'll just…"
He kicks his boots off first, the soft bluish-grey leather sliding over his feet. With a failed first attempt, due to fingers fumbling and generally shaky hands, Dennis manages to get his belt undone soon after, and slides his pants down and off his legs. There's a couple of seconds where Dennis looks down at himself, at the boxer briefs covering his pelvis, then up to Robby, who gives a single nod of encouragement, before he slides those off, too. Something about being entirely bare from the waist down except for his socks feels strange, so those get removed after a second.
"Alright, Dennis. Now, if you could get back on the bed, and get onto all fours."
His face is hot as he settles into position. God, what does he look like? He knows there are bruises along the insides of his thighs, and the outside of his hips, because Robby and Jack get hungry when they see him in their bed. Dr. Abbot blessedly does not mention these, though a quick glance over Dennis's shoulder tells him that Robby is staring with a proud smirk on his face.
There's a click, and a muted plasticky sound, so Dennis has to assume that Dr. Abbot is squeezing the lube onto his fingers. And he must be being polite, because he doesn't press it against Dennis's ass immediately.
His assumption is made correct when a gloved finger does ultimately rub against the sensitive skin, warmed fluid seeping into the pucker of his ass. Dr. Abbot's other hand steadies him against his hip.
"This may feel funny," he says softly. Dennis wants to shrivel up and die. The tone of his voice is so tender and easy, like honey drizzling off a spool. That, mixed with Dennis's current position has something warm settling in the pit of his belly. Oh, God. Sure, they're here because he's a quick shot when there's anything in his ass. But is Robby gonna be upset if he gets hard before that's even happened? Is his easy offer of sweet nothings for the afternoon going to be null? What will Jack think? They know he likes being shared between them. Can they blame him for being turned on? Will they—
Oh. There's a finger in him, and it goes in way too fucking easily, actually. Dr. Abbot barely has to use any pressure to get inside. His finger just slips in, with just a jolt from Dennis. He groans, not from the intrusion, but from the heat that only makes itself more known at how fucking easy he apparently is.
"You alright?" Dr. Abbot asks, still too sweet, and Dennis just nods, because what else can he do? "Not hurting too much?"
"No, Sir," he says.
"Good. Then I'm going to continue, alright?"
Dennis nods again. Is that all he can do? Nod? Better than fucking moaning, he supposes, though he's not far from that as Dr. Abbot presses his finger a little further in until his knuckles are to Dennis's ass, and he feels around for his prostate.
Dennis loses the battle to not moan. It's short, cut off and kind of pitiful, honestly, but there's no pretending it didn't happen. They all heard it. Thank fucking god walls can't talk—he could never come back.
"Interesting," Dr. Abbot muses, before pressing again. Dennis is a little more prepared this time, so he's able to prevent himself from making an absolute mockery of himself. He thinks he hears Robby chuckle, but when he looks back, the man seems almost unaffected. Almost. It's impossible to miss the way he's apparently getting hard at his boyfriend being fucking fingered by another man. Dr. Abbot prods a few more times before removing his finger entirely.
He slips his gloves off and trashes them before returning to the computer and typing something else out. Dennis takes this to mean he can sit back down. As his weight crinkles the paper beneath him, he is mortified to find his cock half-hard.
After what feels like an excruciating amount of time, Dr. Abbot finishes typing, pushes his chair back, and looks at Dennis.
"If it's alright with you, I'd like to run a few more tests."
"A-A few?" Dennis covers himself with his hands, though there's no way his predicament hasn't been seen already.
Dr. Abbot nods, and reaches for something else out of a cabinet. It's got a little rounded rectangular body with a couple feet of wire coming out of the back. The front is a clear plastic rather than the opaque cream of the body. He plugs it into the side of the computer and boots up a program.
"Depending on how this goes, yeah. I can see that something is unusual—not bad, necessarily—but something I want to be sure to get to the bottom of. One of them uses this," he says, holding up the device. "I'm sure you recognize it, but this is a transducer. One of the tests I'd like to run involves me doing an ultrasound on your prostate, if that's alright."
Dennis nods a little dumbly, eyeing the device as Dr. Abbot puts its own lube atop the surface.
"What for?" he asks softly.
"I can, of course, feel your prostate, but I'd like to be able to look at it, too. I'll talk you through the whole thing, though, so you won't be in the dark."
Dennis hates the shiver that rolls down his spine. Mother fucker has bed voice. It's low and kind, clearly placed a little deeper than his casual tone. Dennis glances toward Robby, who is watching them with near unblinking eyes.
"Uh. Yeah."
Dr. Abbot hums before taking a step over toward where Dennis is seated. He asks Dennis to lie on his back, and pulls out stirrups attached to the side of the bed normally used for a fucking pap, then gestures for Dennis to rest his ankles in them.
Dennis hears Robby inhale, and glares over at the man. He can practically read Robby's mind. He's able to keep his legs open on his own. Dennis doesn't need the help.
He thinks he might die if Robby said any of this, so he stares at the man and threatens to blow him up with his mind, which seems to do the trick. Robby smiles, and rubs a hand over his mouth, and turns away while looking like a little shit. Dennis might die anyway, actually.
As Dr. Abbot places himself between Dennis's legs, he sets the transducer on the table for a moment. His hands sweep Dennis's shirt up, exposing his belly, the light hairs smattering the skin of his abdomen. Dennis takes it into his own hands to hold the fabric up at his chest, looking up at the ceiling with a deep inhale. Dr. Abbot lubes up his dominant hand again, before grabbing the transducer and turning to Dennis.
Dennis holds his breath, expecting to feel the pressure of his finger again, or the cold gel along his skin, but there's nothing so startling immediately. Dr. Abbot laughs as he presses the device to Dennis's stomach.
"Yeah, I know. This hospital is cool, and we have little warmers the bottles stay in. Nice, isn't it?"
Dennis just nods again, biting his lip. Nice isn't exactly the word he'd use. But it's less egregious than it could be.
Dr. Abbot takes a moment to get where he needs to be, settling at the crux of his abdomen and his pelvis. Dennis's cock twitches at the proximity, filling just a little more. Either the need or his humiliation must be palpable, because Dr. Abbot just smiles softly, and says, "It's alright. Not unexpected. Honestly, if you do orgasm, that might help me with figuring out what's going on."
"I don't think I could ever be seen in public again, if I orgasm. Sir."
"Mm, you're alright," Dr. Abbot muses, still staring at the screen. Finally, he stops seeking out the image, and gestures toward the grainy image. "Okay, I'm sure you've done ultrasounds before, but this is a little different. That dark spot up at the top is your bladder, and the blob right below it is your prostate."
Dennis nods in acknowledgement. He is, of course, aware of the anatomy of his body enough to have some peripheral knowledge of this. He's sure that, on a quiz, he could've figured that out. This doesn't make it any less strange to think about, though.
"I'm going to put my finger back in," Dr. Abbot warns, though with little time to actually prepare. As he slides his middle finger back inside Dennis's ass, he continues watching the screen, a roadmap for where he's aiming. It must be easier, even with Dr. Abbot's many years of experience, to find his prostate like this, because he nails the organ within seconds. Dennis squeals, legs tensing and twitching, his cock filling with dizzying speed. "And I can tell you felt that."
"Y-yeah," Dennis pants, glaring daggers toward Robby, who is feigning unaffected even though he's fully covering his crotch with his hands. Asshole. If Dennis has to go through the mortifying ordeal of being hard while being examined, Robby should also have to grapple with being hard watching this. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize." He presses Dennis's prostate again. Fuck. Fucking shit. Dennis's legs again twitch, trying to close around Dr. Abbot's arm. The man just exhales softly, lays the transducer down, and pushes Dennis's legs apart. "Easy there, kid. You're doing great. Just relax for me."
Even if he doesn't, ultimately, Dennis thinks he does want to die. Fuck off Dr. Too-Fucking-Sexy. Asshole. Fuck this guy. Fuck his stupid voice and his handsome face and his finger that's still prodding and pressing at Dennis's prostate, and extra fuck the way his cock is fully hard, barely holding back from leaking into his pubes.
Dennis tries to relax his legs, but it's hard when he's feeling himself hurdle too quickly toward orgasm. Pressure builds up in his chest, and his gut, his legs tense with effort to not fuck himself on Dr. Abbot's hand. God damn, if he cums on his fingers, is Robby going to be disappointed? He's supposed to be good, to behave. Robby is so clearly turned on—eyes dark and focused on Dennis—but that doesn't mean he won't be upset.
He thinks, maybe, that Robby is going to tell Jack about how their boy is misbehaving. How he's getting off to someone other than them. Jack is a fucking wildcard of a dom. Usually, he's patient and gentle and guides Dennis as needed, while Robby takes the more firm role. And they're both lovely and caring when Dennis needs it, of course, never skimping on aftercare or quiet moments when he craves something more tender.
But, Jack isn't a stranger to having to pull the trigger on punishment. Robby typically hands it out, sure, but Jack's is always worse when he has to give it. Something about being a vet really drilled mean forms of punishment that makes Dennis thread the line of having to tap out.
It would be fun, yeah. It's always fun. They never push him too hard, never go further than he'd ever be okay with. They take such good care of him, really. But damn, Dennis was hoping to be able to just hang out and space out and let them pamper him, today. He can't afford to cum when he's not allowed. He's already sure there will be something as comeuppance for how much he's reacting.
(Somewhere, he knows, if Robby had a problem, he'd step in. He and Jack and Dennis all have safewords and motions, and can read each other pretty well. So if there was really an issue, if Robby thought Dr. Abbot was taking advantage of his boy in any way, there would be no question in stopping the exam.
But Robby's so fucking hard. He can pretend he isn't, but Dennis can tell by his posture and his expression. He's always loved watching Jack fuck Dennis, so this isn't entirely out of the ordinary. This must all be okay, right? Dennis must not be misbehaving if Robby is looking at him with such intense hunger, instead of the concern or anger Dennis knows he's capable of. Right?)
For a moment, Dr. Abbot pulls the transducer back and his fingers out, and Dennis sighs in relief. Is it over? Is he able to hide away and pretend this never happened? Robby sits up in his chair, crossing one knee over the other, hands folded in his lap in an attempt to appear more casual than this all is.
Dennis watches Dr. Abbot, his confident motions as he grabs more gel, more lube, spreading them as necessary. Watches his flat expression, softened only by the slight upturn of his lips and raise of his brows.
"Why don't you look, this time?" Dr. Abbot presses the tips of his first two fingers against Dennis as he returns the probe to Dennis's belly. "It might help you relax a little."
"Doubtful," Dennis mumbles, though he turns his head toward the screen. His eyes shut and he inhales deeply when fingers press into him again. Two isn't a lot, to be fair, but it's double what he's been taking, and in the sterility of the hospital room, they feel like damn near everything he could handle.
Once the initial pressure has calmed, and he's able to exhale without sounding horribly whiny, Dennis opens his eyes.
"There you go," Dr. Abbot praises, sending a wash of warmth over Dennis's skin. "Now, again, if you look at the screen, you'll see your bladder, and your prostate. And these—" he fucking wiggles his fingers, and Dennis thinks his brain explodes. The image is far from clear, but there's something white that presses against the grey nothing that is apparently his prostate. "—are my fingers."
"Oh," he moans, eyes fluttering shut as he clamps his mouth tight. Dennis nods, feeling his heart racing. He needs to calm down. "Yeah. They sure are."
There's something about seeing himself be fingered that makes this all the worse. Of course he can feel it. Robby and Dr. Abbot and God would be witnesses if he were to lie and say he can't. He wants to lie, though. Be just a little disobedient to tamp down the ache in his cock, to pretend for just a moment that this isn't happening.
Dr. Abbot hums and moves the transducer down, nudging Dennis's cock with the side of his hand. He whines, and kicks his leg involuntarily, face hot as he forces his eyes back open. He is mortified to find himself beading precum onto the latex around Dr. Abbot's hand.
His hips tuck back as he sits up straight, hands flying between his legs, gently pushing at both of Dr. Abbot's wrists.
"I–I'm so sorry, Sir," he begins, voice high and agitated. "Let me—I'll just—"
"Dennis," comes Robby's voice, steady and sure. It's loud enough that Dennis thinks he may have gotten up at some point, though when he looks toward the chairs, Robby is firmly planted. He's bent forward, forearms resting atop his knees with his hands loosely clasped. His eyes bore holes into Dennis. "Behave."
The squeak that erupts from Dennis's mouth is no more embarrassing than everything else he's uttered and experienced today, but that doesn't mean his stomach doesn't swirl. His mouth opens instinctively, about to say yes, Sir in a much different way than he's been saying it to Dr. Abbot. But he's sure that would get a reaction he isn't really sure he wants to deal with, right now.
"Sorry," he settles on after a breath or two. He lies back down, shakily, unable to look at Dr. Abbot in the face. For his part, Dr. Abbot seems unfazed, though Dennis is sure the man is going to talk to every single one of his coworkers about this once he and Robby leave. "I—I'm sorry."
Dennis parts his legs again, head turned to the side. The chain around his neck presses against the soft part of his jaw as his skin folds with the position. It's warm from wear, subtle enough that he hardly ever thinks about it consciously unless he wants to, or is reminded of it by either Robby or Jack. Both have matching ones as bracelets that they wear out and about.
Dennis had been hesitant about collars, day or otherwise, and this had been the only thing that settled his nerves. More than settled them, really. If he had been so adamantly against it, they wouldn't have forced the idea. But he liked that they all matched. It was only so much that they three knew, and, if anyone questioned either attending, it was easy enough to play off as them not wanting wedding bands for each other. Bracelets were much less likely to get lost. And Jack was always a little finicky about the thought after his wife, anyway.
"Will it make you feel better if I say definitively I'd prefer if you orgasmed, Dennis?" Dr. Abbot asks once he's settled back down. "I really do think that it would help me."
No. No, it wouldn't. But he's probably going to cum anyway. Dennis looks at Robby, a silent question on his face. Robby just nods solemnly, giving him the permission he needs to feel less guilty about coming on another man's hand.
"Okay, Sir," Dennis murmurs. But it must be enough, because Dr. Abbot is sliding his fingers back in, and pressing the transducer back to his stomach, and it's so little stimulation but Dennis is trying not to squirm or whine or mewl or moan again.
He is, ultimately, unsuccessful in this endeavor.
It's hardly a minute of Dr. Abbot watching the screen, of his pressing constantly against Dennis's prostate, before Dennis yelps, slaps a hand over his mouth, and cums on Dr. Abbot's hand. His mind blanks for a few moments as it always does with prostate massaging, and when he comes back to, Dennis finds himself panting, finds his skin clammy.
Dr. Abbot has removed his gloves, and is shushing Dennis as he runs his hands up and down his thighs.
"Good, Dennis," he coos. "You did very good. Thank you."
"Oh," he whispers in response. His brain isn't fully back online, yet. He doesn't suspect it will be until Robby gets some food in him and has wrapped himself entirely around Dennis. "Thanks."
Robby hums in agreement, and finally does stand up, walking the few strides over to where Dennis lies. His body feels like rubber, all malleable and loose. Robby rubs his cheek with the backs of his knuckles.
"You were a very good boy for Dr. Abbot, Den," he says softly.
"Thank you, Daddy…" Dennis almost fucking purrs, damn him. He cups Robby's wrist and nuzzles into the palm of his hand, and only after a few seconds does he realize what he's said. "I–I mean—"
His expression falls, dread threatening to creep from beneath his sternum and devour him whole. Tears pinprick at his eyes as his head darts to look between the two men above him. Dr. Abbot looks surprised, though not upset. Robby looks… aroused. His eyes have darkened, and his mouth is parted just so.
"I'm sorry—" Dennis begins again, before being shushed.
"It's alright, Dennis. I have a boy at home, too. He's all sweet like you."
"Y-yeah?"
Dennis's head is a little too fuzzy to put the pieces together entirely. They're the right shape, but the picture isn't quite there.
"Mhm," Dr. Abbot continues, nodding slowly. His hand continues up and down Dennis's thigh. It's nearly the only thing grounding him. "And your Daddy's right. You did very well. Thank you."
Dennis whimpers when Dr. Abbot says daddy, skirting the edge of tender and teasing. He tucks his face back into Robby's hand. Robby's thumb sweeps to wipe a tear from Dennis's cheek.
"I-I didn't…?"
"No, Den," Robby says, stepping in for a moment. "He needed you to cum so we can figure out what's going on with your pretty little cock and why your prostate is so sensitive. You did exactly what you needed to."
That seems to settle something in Dennis just a little bit, even if his heart is still jittery, and his breaths are still short. Robby sweeps his hand back to brush Dennis's hair off of his forehead.
"Okay."
"I have another couple of tests I'd like to run, if that's alright."
"What… what are they?" Dennis is a little annoyed by how soft his voice sounds to his own ears. But what can he do, when both of them are still fucking petting him?
"I'd like to see how sensitive you are while being fucked."
All Dennis hears is white fucking noise. Huh?
"Ideally with someone you're comfortable with, and someone you're less familiar with."
What?"
Robby tugs his hair to get his attention. It's nothing. It's hardly any pressure. But Dennis moans and can't even be embarrassed about it. The hairs on his body rise as a chill runs through him. He thinks his cock twitches again.
"What do you mean, Sir?" He finally manages after a too-long pause.
"I mean, if you'll consent, I'd like to see how you react when Michael fucks you, and how it's different from my fingers, and also different from me fucking you."
Oh. Oh, okay.
He's too offline to make that choice. His cock does twitch, certainly, at the thought. Because despite his best efforts, and any protests he may make, he is extraordinarily easy. Dennis tilts his head to find Robby lazily palming himself while his other hand still strokes Dennis's hair gently.
"Daddy?" He whispers. This isn't a choice he feels like he can make right now. He needs someone to decide things for him. "Is… is that…?"
"Do you want to, baby?" Dennis could melt there, he thinks. He's already all gooey and soft and their hands haven't stopped petting and soothing him, and it's almost grounding but not quite, so Dennis still floats and can't think clearly and just wants. "It would help us find out why you're so sensitive."
Dennis whines. Why is he so insistent on asking? Robby knows Dennis, inside and out—literally—so he should be able to come to some kind of consensus for the two of them. Robby cocks his head at the sound, both hands stilling, as his face morphs into some patronizing pout.
"Oh, Den. Already that gone that you need Daddy to decide for you?"
Dennis nods. Damn, does he nod, eager enough to make Robby tut in reprimand and tug his hair again until Dennis thinks he's going to get hard again from just that. Wouldn't be the first time.
Robby turns to face Dr. Abbot, and nods.
"Yeah. We'll do them. At least the first one, and then see how he feels."
Dr. Abbot nods in turn and steps aside for Robby to slip between Dennis's legs. His cock is already half hard by the time they situated themselves, with Robby's pants and boxers pushed to half-thigh, cock full from watching his boy get fingered and coming earlier. He's fully clothed otherwise. Dennis can't decide if that's hot or fucking unfair. Probably both.
Dennis has taken his heels from the stirrups and wrapped his legs around Robby's waist, thighs pushed high enough so they burn just a little. Robby doesn't help him. He knows Dennis will hold the position, because he knows Dennis will do anything to please him.
Robby cocks his head for a moment as he looks down at Dennis, noticing the way the boy is panting, how he’s already coated in sweat. He ushers Dennis to peel his shirt off so he has something clean to walk out with, before his hand eventually settles flat on Dennis's abdomen while he steps forward, dragging down through the drying gel still coating his skin.
"You gonna do an ultrasound for this, too?" Robby asks before pulling his hand closer and loosely wrapping it around Dennis's cock. The boy keens, hips pushing into the feeling.
"If that's alright."
"Be my guest."
Dr. Abbot gathers more gel and a new pair of gloves while Robby continues lazily jerking Dennis off. His fingers are barely curled, just enough to hold Dennis's cock, but with very little pressure. Every so often, he decides to brush his thumb over the flat of the head, just where it separates, to watch Dennis squirm. His legs clench around Robby's waist as he squirms.
When Dr. Abbot is ready to begin the ultrasound again, Robby pulls Dennis's now-hard cock out of the way and lets the doctor press against his belly.
Dennis, unsure of the reason, swears he can feel it more, this time. Maybe it's because his prostate is still sensitive from being fingered far too expertly, or maybe it's because he just generally came. Or maybe it's both, mixed with his current headspace, making everything feel like so much more.
Regardless, the pressure on his belly feels like he's already being fucked again. Dennis moans softly, warmth flashing under his sternum, but too far gone to apologize, or really care otherwise. Robby's knuckles are still grazing the flat of Dennis's pelvis, sending little shocks through his skin as Dr. Abbot lines up the transducer once more.
"Still a bit swollen," Dr. Abbot muses, staring at the screen. "Though that's not unexpected, especially given his current state. We may want to keep an eye on that after everything we do today. It might be swollen for a day or two."
His voice is flat, clinical, which Dennis should take as a comfort. He's a doctor. He's doing his job. But the very minor lilt to Dr. Abbot's voice has Dennis shivering. Robby coos above him, chuckling at how sensitive his boy is.
"I'll make sure he's well taken care of, Doctor. Don't worry about it."
"I'm sure you will, Michael. We'll obviously continue to monitor throughout the appointment." He looks down and smiles at Dennis, voice softening ever so slightly. "That's the whole point of this, isn't it, Den?"
"Fuck," Dennis moans. They aren't even doing anything, and Dennis feels like he's going to explode again. Robby lets go of his cock only for it to snap back against his lower belly, knocking into Dr. Abbot's hand and getting him out of place. Dennis expects to be chastised, even though he can't really control that. Instead, Dr. Abbot just laughs good-naturedly as he repositions the device.
"Do you need to get off again before Robby fucks you?"
"No!" The response is too quick, too eager. Fucking fuck. His cock aches, and he's just lying there. He really, really hopes this appointment comes up with some reason for him to be so fucking easy. Dennis clears his throat, breathing in deeply before continuing. "No, Sir. That would mess up the results, I think."
"Hmmm… maybe," Dr. Abbot muses. "How considerate of you. You ready, then?"
Dennis nods once, humming. He can tell Robby's fucking dying for it, too.
"Alright. Robby, whenever you're ready."
Robby gestures for the lube, popping the cap with his thumb and drizzling it onto his free hands. He rubs his first two fingers with his thumb, and presses them into Dennis for good measure.
"Robby—" Dennis protests, voice squeakier than he'd like.
Robby pins him with a glance, getting his two fingers in as far as they go and scissoring them a few times before pulling out. He wipes the remaining lube on the pucker of Dennis's hole. Dennis twitches.
"Daddy just wants to make sure you're alright. My cock is bigger than Dr. Abbot's fingers, baby."
"Sorry Daddy," Dennis mutters, resting his head back against the exam table. He stares up at the ceiling, listening in as Robby pours out some more lube. There's a wet sound, and a few seconds later, the head of Robby's cock is pressing against his ass. "Mmm… you can—you can go, Daddy. I'm alright."
"I know you are," Robby purrs, condescension licking at the back of his throat. Of course he does. Having seen Dennis in nearly every way his body can possibly fold and open for him, he is more than aware of what Dennis is able to take, of what his limits are.
They've had plenty of sex. Dennis has lost count of how much sex they've had—of how many times Robby has fucked into him, has taken him apart and put every piece of Dennis back together. Being watched isn't even a new facet of their sex life, with each of the three of them taking turns watching the other two. They all adore it, both getting to see their partners in action, and knowing someone is watching them.
So this shouldn't feel like so much, as Robby presses into him. He's not harsh about it, too busy staring at the screen, watching his cock fill up the cavern of his boy, to thrust in quickly. It's a steady pace. But, there's no allowances for Dennis to adjust to the feeling, to catch his breath as each inch of Robby demands room. He's winded by the time Robby's pelvis is flush to his ass.
"Look," Robby says softly, patting Dennis's flank. "See how Daddy fills you up?"
Laboriously, Dennis turns his head toward the screen. He thinks he might pass out when he sees it, when he sees the fuzzy image of Robby's cock shoved against his prostate and forcing his walls apart. Feeling how big his cock is is one thing. Seeing how big it is is something entirely different.
"Oh." Dr. Abbot breaks the thick silence. Dennis has to catch his breath as he tears his attention away from the screen and toward the doctor. "This might be faster than we thought."
When Dennis looks down, he sees a shiny spot on the blue glove covering Dr. Abbot's hand, with a string connected to the tip of his cock. It twitches, kicking up. Fuck, he might cum like this, actually.
"Already, Den?"
No, no no no, Dennis can not do that fucking tone of Robby's. It's somehow impressed and condescending and disappointed all in one, and yeah, sometimes it makes him shrink back and he's able to hold off, but now? Now all it makes Dennis want to do is cum his fucking brains out. Dr. Abbot must already think he's an embarrassment of a partner, about to cum from literally nothing. Not that this doctor's opinion matters, except it does, a little, when his whole fucking prognosis depends on what this doctor sees his stupid eager cock do.
"Sorry," he says again, whining, trying to think of anything to get himself to stop teetering. But he's struggling to find anything to rein in the desperate pressure in his stomach, begging to drop. "I'm trying."
Robby's frowning when Dennis blinks his eyes open and looks at him. He's still pressed flush to Dennis's body, unmoving, thank God. He slides a hand up Dennis's side, his chest, taps below his chin and presses a finger to the crease of Dennis's mouth.
"You can cum, baby." The tip of Robby's finger swipes along his bottom lip. "We told you. It'll be better for Dr. Abbot if you let yourself go."
"But this—" Dennis starts before he's shushed with a finger pressing behind his teeth, feeling along the tips of his canines and back along his molars. Dennis closes his eyes. Asshole.
"Ah-ah. We want to know why Daddy's little boy is so fucking quick, right?" Dennis nods, whimpers. He sounds mildly annoyed, now, sharper syllables that rattle Dennis. "Right. So. Be a good boy for me, and Dr. Abbot, and stop holding back, because we want you to cum."
"O-okay."
Dr. Abbot adjusts the transducer again, knocking into Dennis's cock. Dennis is fairly fucking certain that it's intentional. He can't really figure out what information Dr. Abbot is getting from this, but the man is staring intently at the screen, so there must be something.
"Good."
Robby rocks his hips without pulling out, pushing Dennis back onto the bed a few inches. Beneath him, the paper crinkles. Dennis yelps and throws his head back, though Robby just shushes him, and continues gently grinding against him.
"You're okay, sweetheart," he coos, grabbing the lube once more. The fluid is drizzled directly onto his cock, this time, cold and thin. Robby brings a hand down and presses some against Dennis's ass with his thumb as he pulls out an inch or so. "So fucking tight, hm? Dr. Abbot's fingers didn't really do much, did they?"
Dennis just moans before clapping a hand over his mouth.
"No, they didn't." Robby pulls his hand back and gently grips the top of Dennis's thigh. Dennis just fucking knows Robby's watching him twitch with meticulous care. He begins pulling out more, thrusting in and out slowly, carefully. It's excruciating. "He made you cum once, but you're still so tight for Daddy. That's okay, baby. I'll get you to relax."
Robby's hand rubs along the length of Dennis's thigh, warm palm coarse against the fine hair. When his hand reaches Dennis's hip, for a moment, the stretch makes Robby's arm press against the length of his thigh, makes it so he can feel the warm, thin metal around Robby's wrist. This, alone, helps Dennis to shuffle his shoulders, to spread them and release some of the tension.
"There we go," Robby praises, voice quiet, low. "Atta boy."
"'M close," Dennis pants in response. Without the tension tethering his orgasm back, it barrels through him. He's surprised that he's able to manage a warning at all, frankly, with how sudden the pressure arises again. "Fuck, Daddy, I'm—"
"Mhm. Go ahead, Den." Robby is too good to him, actually. Nevermind him being a smug bastard earlier. That’s irrelevant when he knows that Dennis needs permission now, even if he's already had it blanketed over him several times. "Cum while Daddy stretches you out."
All it takes is a couple more rocks of Robby's hips, and for Dr. Abbot to press down more ever so slightly, before Dennis cries out and his cock spills for a second time. He doesn't know if it's more, or less, or anything, really. Dennis comes to after about a minute, to the feeling of Dr. Abbot wiping the back of his glove with a swab and placing it in a bag, then wiping Dennis's belly with a paper towel.
"Wha… what's that for?" Dennis murmurs as he gestures vaguely toward the plastic bag, now resting on the counter. His limbs, and eyes—whole body, really—feel heavy, pleasure and fuzz thrumming through his bloodstream. As Dr. Abbot seals off the bag and writes a label to stick on it, Robby softly shushes him, hands rubbing up and down Dennis's thighs.
"Hm, this? I'm going to send it up to the lab. Grabbed some after the first, you were just out of it. I want to run a few tests, see if we can figure out if there's something going on with you, kid."
"Not a kid," Dennis protests. Robby laughs, his cock twitching, still buried deep inside Dennis's ass. There's a pinch to his hip, which takes Dennis an embarrassing amount of time to realize is Robby correcting him. He whines.
Dr. Abbot puts the bag aside, turning back toward the other two. The way he looks down at Dennis is downright hungry. Dennis's fucking traitor cock is still interested, still red and shiny with residual precum.
"Sorry, Dennis. Not a kid. Just a real good boy for me and your Daddy, hm?"
Dennis's next exhale is shaken. His eyes flutter shut and he nods slowly, mouth parted.
"Y-yeah."
"Sound more sure, honey. You've been very good today."
Robby's hand runs up Dennis's side, warm and solid as his fingers spread over sweaty skin. His thumb dips into the grooves of Dennis's ribs before Robby pulls his hand back down.
"Mmmn…." Is all Dennis can manage. His mind and body are buzzing on opposite ends of the spectrum, head floaty while his body feels like it's being pulled down into the table. Beneath him, the paper sticks to his skin as he tries to adjust.
"Ah-ah, easy, honey," Robby coos. The motion Dennis was trying to do pulls Robby's cock out just a bit, but it's not smoothe like Robby had been fucking him. It's sudden, and sharp, at a bad angle. Dennis winces, and Robby just dons a half-hearted smile. "I know, sweetheart. But Daddy's still so hard for his good boy. We don't want you to hurt yourself, right?"
Dennis shakes his head.
"Words, Den." There's a pat at his thigh, gentle and urging, but not painful at all. It's a test, some distant part of Dennis's brain registers. He's trying to gauge how far gone Dennis is.
"No, Daddy. Don't wanna get hurt."
"That's right. We want this to be comfortable for you. So keep still unless Daddy or Dr. Abbot tell you to move, alright?"
"Uh-huh," he starts, though knows it's not what Robby is searching for. "Y-yes, Daddy."
"Good." Robby pulls out slowly and reaches again for the bottle of lube. With a groan, he lathers the fluid onto his cock, the slick sounds lewd as they peter out in the room. "You feel good enough for me to keep going?"
Dennis looks at Dr. Abbot, who has a fresh layer of gel atop the curve of the transducer, holding it up, waiting. With his mottled brain, Dennis allows himself to gaze up and down the doctor's body. It's unfortunate, really, that he's wearing a coat over his clothes. But, they're street clothes, not scrubs like Dennis and Robby have to wear. He's got on a pair of boots and dark cargo pants, though Dennis can't parse if they're navy or black right now.
They're dark enough to almost, almost, hide the way he's hard as a fucking rock right now. It would be enough if Dr. Abbot weren't apparently rivalling Robby for sheer volume of cock. Fucking fuck. Would Robby and Jack blame him if he got to his knees at the end of this appointment. Or if he asked for Dr. Abbot to join them, or just him, whatever, at some point? God, he wants that cock on his tongue. Or in his hand. Or him.
Huh. Okay. Robby making him cum again, and then Dr. Abbot making him cum doesn't seem so bad. Seems really fucking good, now.
"Yeah, you're good," Robby says under his breath. His voice is gruff, demanding attention that Dennis quickly gives. He hadn't realized that he'd managed to get halfway hard again, just by staring at Dr. Abbot's bulge. Jesus. Robby's hand finds Dennis's cock again, gripping firmer than before. He squeezes and leans down, whispering, "aren't you? I see you staring his cock down like he's your last fucking meal. Daddy took his cock back and you can't wait a minute before trying to find someone else's, hm?"
Dennis isn't given much of a chance to answer before Robby is fucking back into him. The moan he lets out prevents him from forming any actual words, anyway. With a slack jaw and squeezed eyes, Dennis nearly shouts when Robby finds himself fully seated.
He's shushed again, Robby's hands on his lower ribs. They pull down, synchronized, pressing Dennis's hips down so he's lying flat on the bed again.
"I know, honey. Daddy makes you feel too good, hm? But you need to let Dr. Abbot get back to examining you while I fuck you so we can figure out what's going on."
Dennis wants to yell that what's going on is that Robby's stupid big cock is flush to his ass, and there's an equally hot man watching him, who has already fingered him to orgasm once, and aside from the imprint all but staring at him, is seemingly unaffected by this whole thing. But he doesn't. He just writhes a little as Dr. Abbot gently pushes his cock aside and places the transducer back until he finds the image of Robby inside him.
Because Robby is being mean, Dennis turns his head toward the screen. It's only when Robby begins fucking him with much less patience that he realizes this may not have been the best idea.
The pace, the force, it's nothing that Dennis hasn't taken, and won't take again. It drives him fucking mad, yeah, but in a good way. But watching it—the way his body opens around Robby's cock, the way Robby's cock jettisons in and out of him?. Dennis doesn't know if how it rings similar to being filmed, and watching back afterward while getting off, while being told how to get off, that's getting his abdomen boiling. It could be the exhibition of it, some new angle of watching, of being watched, that he's already so familiar with. Regardless, Dennis feels fucking dizzy watching the grainy image of Robby's cock inside him.
Dennis glances at Robby, and finds his gaze directed back to the screen as well. Dr. Abbot, too, though he's the one who's been making notes and examining this the whole time, so that isn't too out of the ordinary for the time.
God. He wonders what Jack would say, were he here. He did ask if they wanted him to come along, but with his schedule it just didn't make sense.
He'd enjoy it, Dennis thinks. Would enjoy watching Dennis squirm and writhe and wail as Robby fucks him into oblivion, so hard that the bed squeaks as Dennis's body rubs against it, that the paper beneath him is torn and probably dissolved against the sweat beading from his back.
He'd whisper sweet nothings while jerking Dennis off, kissing him stupider than he already is, before taking over for Robby once the man has cum.
The thought makes his hips jerk up again, pushing against the insistent pressure of Robby's grip on his hips. His thumbs press into the convex right above the curve of his iliac crest, fingers digging into the meat beside it. Dennis gets the fucking point, relaxing his legs so they straighten enough for him to lie back down with his ass right at the edge.
It takes a second for them to get back into position—Robby in a good rhythm and Dr. Abbot with a good visual—but they eventually find their way into the swing of things. Robby's hands find Dennis's chest, fingers splayed over freckled, flushed skin. Dennis's heart feels like it pounds harder beneath the weight of Robby's palms, blood rushing hot and fast, feeding his cock first and brain last.
"What were you thinking about, hm?" Robby asks. He's working at a slower speed than before, though no less insistent. His thrusts are deep, expertly angled. Dennis supposes that this could be because he has a visual on where he's aiming, although Robby doesn't exactly have a bad track record in fucking his prostate swollen.
Neither does Jack, for that matter.
Regardless.
"Mmmph—" He has to stop himself before he can even start, vocal chords betraying him. There's an attempt to form words, but with each rounding of his mouth, Robby presses forward and knocks the precision out of the way. "Ngh, fuck, Daddy."
"Working on it, Den." Robby sounds condescending in a way that lights Dennis on fire. How does he do that? How does he know exactly what to day and how to say it in the exact right way to make Dennis lose his fucking mind? It's horrendously unfair of him. super fucking hot, but unfair nonetheless. "You've already come twice, honey. I just want to make sure you're alright. I know how sensitive you get."
"Mean," Dennis pouts. With a stern look, he's silenced, cheeks flaring hot before he turns his head away.
"That's not a very nice thing to say while Daddy's fucking you," Robby coos. Off to the side, Dr. Abbot can't hold in a laugh, but when Dennis looks at him, he's still staring at the screen, at the blob of Robby's cock rolling in and out of him. Robby pat's Dennis's hip to get his attention. "Now, are you going to tell me what you were thinking of?"
There's no need for the threat of punishment. Dennis knows what will happen, if he doesn't explain, and he's not keen on it. He likes being punished, sure—has some fucking brat streak while he's at home—but he's attached to doing soft and sweet nothing tonight, so having to endure some kind of torment is off the table in his mind.
"I-I was thinking about Jack," he manages after a few moments. "A-about how he'd probably like me like this."
"Like what, Den?"
Robby thrusts hard and deep, and Dennis can't fucking breathe for a second.
"Ah—like-like—spread out. And-and being fucked stupid."
Robby hums, thrusting again, hard, before slowing back down.
"He does like seeing you fall apart, doesn't he?"
Dennis nods frantically. "Yes, Daddy."
"And you like being watched by him."
More nodding.
"What was he doing? Just watching?"
Dennis doesn't catch it, but Robby nudges Dr. Abbot's forearm to get his attention on Dennis, not just his insides. Dr. Abbot turns to face Dennis, gaze flitting over the parted lips of his mouth, the flush of his cheeks.
"No," Dennis whimpers, back arching as Robby slightly picks up the pace. His hands grip tighter, fingers digging into the meat of Dennis's hips, betraying how composed he is. "He'd start watching, but-but then he'd kiss me, and stroke my cock while you fuck me."
"He'd kiss you, hm?" Robby asks roughly. He pulls Dennis to the edge of the bed again, adjusting his hold on the boy's legs as he rewraps them around his hips. Robby leans down, a hair's breadth from Dennis's mouth, just to tease, before slamming their mouths together.
He doesn't let Dennis close his mouth before shoving his tongue in, demanding and hungry. Robby all but growls into the kiss, because it causes Dennis to clench around him. This is maybe not the best position for Dr. Abbot to be able to hold the transducer, but Robby doesn't fucking care, right now.
He and Dennis and Jack fucking love kissing. Could spend forever doing it, frankly. Robby's favorite are the little pecks and fleeting contacts that drive Dennis crazy, until he snaps and crawls into Robby's lap demanding something more proper.
Jack, on the other hand, likes slow and sensual with their boy, licking every corner of Dennis's mouth while his hand fists in Dennis's hair, holding him still and steady. He likes to kiss Dennis until he squirms, pawing at Jack for more, because the heady feeling pulls him under so fucking quick its kind of scary.
Robby doesn't have that kind of patience right now, but he's trying to humor Dennis. Why not pretend like their partner is here, is torturing him just the same?
"Daddy," Dennis gasps when he's finally given the chance to breathe. His body writhes beneath Robby, and because he's so fucking cute, Robby places a kiss to his jaw.
"Hm, honey?"
"Close."
God, the sound is a sob on Dennis's tongue. He's fucking drained, so it's not entirely out of the question that he'd be bordering his breaking point.
Robby just makes a noncommittal sound and continues, playing like he, too, isn't about to burst. With a parting kiss, he pulls back.
"Do you need Daddy to touch your cock, honey?" He loosens his hold on Dennis's hip, ready to work Dennis to completion if needed. Two rapid-fire, hands-free orgasms take a toll on the body. But Dennis is leaking again so, so much, making his skin even more slippery than the gel Dr. Abbot uses. God, the transducer is going to have to be sterilized a million times over, isn't it?
Dennis whines, hips rocking, despite a dull ache making itself present in his lower half. It's not unwanted, but staying still on what isn't the softest surface while getting railed isn't the most kind thing to his body. His cock kicks, the length of it rubbing against the back of Dr. Abbot's gloves. Dr. Abbot chuckles, and flicks his wrist to bat Dennis's cock away, and, oh, fuck.
"Please," he keens, eyes screwing tight. "Please, Sir, fucking—please, oh god—"
Dr. Abbot cocks his head and removes the transducer, which also removes his hand from against Dennis's cock. This is not what he wanted, of course. Dennis keens and throws his head back, panting and jerking as his cock lets out another drop.
"No, nononono please Sir, put it back."
"You want me to touch you, Dennis?"
Dr. Abbot seems almost surprised by this, though Dennis can't imagine why. It's not like he hated when the man was stretching him open, earlier. Quite the opposite, in fact, if his wavering memory serves him right.
"Please," he insists, voice far too airy for his liking. But that doesn't matter at all, when Dr. Abbot looks at Robby, who exhales and nods shakily, then removes his glove and wraps a hand around Dennis's cock.
The reaction garnered is maybe a little dramatic, but Dennis is over sensitive and too far gone to tell what's too much versus entirely warranted. He all but wails, body jerking and bowing so hard that Robby has to slam a hand onto his lower sternum so he doesn't force himself off the bed.
His cock throbs in Dr. Abbot's hand, from just being held, really, but then Dr. Abbot brushes his thumb along the flat of the head up to the slit. His fingers are kind of rough, more so than Dennis had realized, the texture of his fingertips pushing Dennis up a wall.
It should be humiliating how quickly he cums after getting any contact on his cock, but he's past that point, now. He's orgasmed enough of his self-consciousness out, that that is far from anything he needs to worry about.
He doesn't release as much, this time, and what he does is thinner. But it hits him all the same, drawing his muscles tight and setting his nerves on fire. His fingers scramble for purchase on anything he can find, which happens to be the hanging sleeve of Dr. Abbot's coat. Dennis tugs until his forearm is too tired to continue.
His legs almost flail around Robby's waist, heels kicking against the man's back. Robby groans, though from pain or pleasure, Dennis can't tell. He can't tell anything, brain more mush than matter.
"Fuck, sweetheart," Robby forces out, hips barreling against Dennis's ass. Dennis must squeeze around him while he cums—he always does, apparently—because a few moments after Dennis finally gets his release, Robby pulls out and grabs his own cock and cums over Dennis's hip. "There we go, Den. There we go…"
Dennis writhes beneath him, shaking his head and whining and pawing at Dr. Abbot's arm. He forces the sleeve up, gold bracelet glinting in the sterile light of the room.
"Why-why'd you—Daddy, no—" he complains. Dennis isn't always a fan of the clean up afterward, but he loves feeling his boyfriends cum in him. Something about them not being able to hold back any longer gets him fucking feral. "Daddy, why?"
Robby laughs on an exhale, grinning loosely, shaking his head. He brushes a hand through Dennis's sweaty curls, tilting it up just enough to make Dennis look at him.
"Dr. Abbot is still observing, right? And I didn't want to obscure anything in the ultrasound." Robby drags his hands down along Dennis's sides toward his thighs, gently massaging the still twitching muscles. "God knows the image is already fuzzy. Can't imagine what you being all full of Daddy's cum would do to it."
"Robby," Dennis whines. His hand finally releases Dr. Abbot’s sleeve, fingers feeling thick as blood flows back into the now relaxed limbs. Dr. Abbot turns away to grab something from the cabinets, though Dennis can not bring himself to care about what.
"Hm?"
Dennis keens. It's all he can do, really. Robby takes his hand and kisses his knuckles before rubbing them against his bearded jaw, the wiry hair just coarse enough to bring Dennis back down a little. While he’s distracted, Dr. Abbot scoops up another sample from Dennis’s belly and seals it off, wipes his skin clean, and disposes of his gloves again.
“We doing alright, Den?”
Dennis nods, forcing himself to breathe deep. Robby looks over at Dr. Abbot, sharing a look, and nodding once in silent agreement. Moving himself from between Dennis’s legs to his side, he continues trying to regulate the boy with gentle rakes of fingers through Dennis’s hair, of soft kisses along the mounds on Dennis’s hand.
“Good,” he says, pausing. Dennis doesn’t bother opening his eyes to look at what’s demanding Robby’s attention. After a few moments, he continues. “Do you remember what Dr. Abbot said?”
“Um…”
“It’s alright if you don’t, honey. I can remind you.”
“Please, Daddy.” Fuck, his voice is thick, stuck in his throat. For just a moment, his fingers flex around Robby’s, all trusting and sweet and encouraging him to keep going. “My brain isn’t working right now.”
“And that’s no problem. He had said that he’d like to run one more test, if you’re up for it. Said that he wants to see a difference with him fucking you, rather than me.”
Oh. Right. He did say that, didn’t he? Dennis squirms a little as the memories come back. He clenches around nothing. Robby has to pretend he doesn’t see it, lest his own cock make the valiant, useless effort of trying to get hard again so soon.
“Are you feeling up to that, honey? Alright having him, too?”
Robby does this thing with his voice when Dennis gets far enough under. It’s softer, sweeter than Dennis ever hears it otherwise, guiding Dennis through the fog that mottles his cognition.
“Yes,” Dennis exhales. “I want it.”
“Jesus fuck,” Dr. Abbot groans under his breath, meandering over by the cabinets again. He ruffles through them a little too aggressively for his own liking, but the hinges will survive. He doesn’t know if he will if he has to wait any longer, considering how fucking hard his cock is. The blood has been long gone from any other body part for too fucking long. “He’s real fuckin’ sweet, huh, Michael?”
Robby nods, smiling. He leans down to kiss Dennis’s forehead.
“Yeah, he’s a good boy when he wants something.”
There’s the sound of a zipper undoing, and a sigh of relief as Dr. Abbot pulls his cock from its confines. He, too, neglects to remove his pants. Doesn’t even pull them down, just spreads the fly and shoves his underwear down.
“Only then?” Dr. Abbot laughs in disbelief. With eager fingers, he rips open a condom he’d grabbed from one of the cabinets and works on rolling it down his length. “Hard to believe he’s anything other than an angel for you.”
“Mmm, no. He can be quite the brat when he wants to be.”
Robby tugs Dennis’s hair for a moment, making the boy moan. He soothes the sting with a few more brushes through the strands before pulling his hand back, and tidying himself up. Pants brought up, dick tucked away, until the only sign of what happened is the flush still adorning his cheeks.
Dr. Abbot slips another new pair of gloves on, gels up the transducer, and places it down once more. There’s a little red mark where he’s been holding it this whole time, so finding the sweet spot is easy enough. Dennis whines at the pressure.
“I know, sweetheart,” Dr. Abbot coos, staring back up at the screen. “I’m sure you’re sensitive. Your prostate is really swollen.”
As if to prove his point, Dr. Abbot pushes the wand down a little harder, making Dennis jerk. A sharp feeling runs through his dick—it so badly wants to get hard, surrounded by his boyfriend and ridiculously hot doctor who’s about to fuck him. Though, it feels like an overworked muscle with a deep-set ache every time he even thinks about using it.
“Shh, Dennis,” Dr. Abbot says under his breath. After a few moments, he presses a bottle into the upturned palm of Dennis’s hand. “Get my cock all lubed up for you, yeah? I can’t take my gloves off right now, and I don’t have enough hands otherwise.”
It takes all of his brainpower to do as Dr. Abbot says. The bottle is already open, and Robby has to help him sit up, but he does eventually manage to get a generous amount of lube onto his hand to wrap around Dr. Abbot’s cock.
Except, the moment he touches it, Dennis frowns.
“Off,” he says, pulling his hand back.
“Off?” Dr. Abbot parrots. Robby chuckles beside them. His hand scoops up the back of Dennis’s, keeping it flat so he doesn’t let the lube drip off.
“He wants the condom off.”
Dr. Abbot groans, deep and guttural, eyes closing. He has to take a deep breath to compose himself.
“I don’t know about that, sweetheart.”
“Please Sir,” Dennis pouts. “Please, please, I wanna feel you.”
It takes nothing more for Dr. Abbot to rip the condom off of his length and grab Dennis’s wrist from Robby’s hand.
He wraps Dennis’s fingers around him, and while yes, he’d wanted the boy to jerk him off to lube him up, Dr. Abbot is just fucking his fist, right now. He’s been hard this whole fucking appointment. He’s allowed.
“Fucking shit, Michael,” he groans, staring at the man while his hips roll into Dennis’s willing grip. “How did you find him?”
“Mm, good behavior and a favor from God?”
“Unlikely,” Dr. Abbot laughs. He pulls Dennis’s hand off and positions himself at his wanting entrance. “Bet you made a deal with a demon, or some shit. Seems more your speed. You’ve never once behaved.”
“Hey! I listen to what you tell me to do.”
Dr. Abbot huffs, smiling, and presses the head of his cock into Dennis. He’s fucking hot, and wet and stretched at this point. Dennis clenches around him and takes his lip between his teeth.
“Fuck. Yeah, Mike. ‘Cause you’re a doctor and you know I’m right.”
Robby watches as Dr. Abbot slides slowly into Dennis, as he savors the feeling of the boy around him. Dennis squirms, clenching and grinding his hips up to try and get Dr. Abbot inside him faster.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
“Real.”
Robby smirks. He places his hand on Dennis’s sternum, then drags it up until he cups Dennis’s chin and tips his head to look up at Robby. The boy’s eyes are dazed, mouth parted, unable to contain the noises his vocal chords insist on making. Robby runs his thumb over the smooth line of his jaw before leaning down and kissing him.
Honestly, it’s more breathing each other’s air than kissing. Dennis doesn’t really have the coordination for a proper make out session, right now. But Robby cups his jaw and licks into his mouth, and Dennis whines and writhes and it’s so, so much, having both of their attention on either end of his body at the same time.
Dr. Abbot stills inside him, watching the two, letting Dennis mold around him in the meantime. He never fully relaxes, though, too strung-up and fucked to let himself have this. Dr. Abbot thinks that if they were in a bed, or a couch, or anywhere other than a doctor’s office, he might be at the point of fucked pliant by now.
But, with his legs dangling off of the plastic, and paper all but dissolved beneath his back, Dennis has his thighs tensed so much that they’re spasming, his stomach clenched and forearms braced against the mattress.
Dr. Abbot knows he’s feeling fucking good, if the way he’s whimpering and squirming are any indication, though some part of his mind says that that may be due to a level of exhaustion finally settling over the boy. So, while Robby kisses him, Dr. Abbot uses his free hand to massage Dennis’s thighs, pecs, biceps. Anywhere he can reach, really.
This results in a deep, satisfied groan from Dennis, who pushes into the feeling before settling back down with his shoulders spread just a little wider.
“Good boy,” he purrs. Dr. Abbot should focus on the image on the screen, and not the boy wrapped so fucking well around him. But damn the image. He knows what’s there: grainy black and white blobs that show exactly what he can feel anyway. He knows his cock is being swallowed, knows Dennis is swollen and touchy and twitchy. Not like he’ll be able to diagnose shit until the lab results come back. Why not indulge himself? “Feel so good around me while you kiss Daddy.”
Dennis tries to say something, but his words are swallowed up by Robby. He’s nearly lightheaded by the time Robby relents, giving him one last peck before pulling back.
Dr. Abbot still doesn’t move, yet, wanting to make sure that Dennis is fine. He’s sure the boy would tap out if he needed to—clearly he has enough experience to know that’s an option, but he likes playing it safe, especially this many orgasms in. His hand sweeps the transducer up, as if he’ll pay attention, but his gaze is firmly settled on Dennis’s face.
“You think you can cum again for me?” he asks. Dennis hesitates. Dr. Abbot watches the gold chain stuck to his chest rise and fall with each pant. He seems to be genuinely considering the question, but nods after he comes to an answer. “Alright. Good boy. I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you. Can you do that?”
Dennis doesn’t respond verbally, too far gone to come up with anything beyond moans or whines, but his hand finds its way around his cock, so he clearly gets the memo.
As soon as contact is made with his cock, Dennis keens, clearly still over sensitive. Both Dr. Abbot and Robby shush him, offering soft nothings of praise and encouragement. Dennis doesn’t seem like he’d remove his hand anyway, but the way his face screws tight as the words make their way to his ears is nice, anyway.
“Gonna, fuck, start moving now,” Dr. Abbot grunts as he begins slowly pulling out. He knows by now that Dennis could take him faster. He’s sure as hell been stretched enough for it. But, Dr. Abbot is about two thrusts away from coming himself, so heaven forbid if he paces himself a little bit.
“Ah–Sir—” Dennis cries when Dr. Abbot begins setting a slow, but deep pattern. He braces his hand beside Dennis’s waist, offering enough leverage for him to roll his hips until they’re flush against Dennis’s ass, then back again. He wants to grip the boy’s hips, dig into bruises that have been left by other hands, spanning what’s likely several nights. But he doesn’t. He’s not about to risk losing his license more than he already probably will.
“I know,” he grunts, breathless. “I know, hon. You feel so fucking good.”
“Pleasepleaseplease, fuck, mmmph—” Dr. Abbot is going to go insane, he thinks. Dennis is so fucking sweet beneath him, all cute moans and squirmy and needy. The shit he’s going to go home and say to his own boy tonight is fucking filthy, he’s sure of it. “—faster, Sir, please.”
Who is he to deny Dennis? Who could deny him, all flushed and sweaty and fucking perfect like this?
Dr. Abbot spares a glance to Robby, who nods in approval. He’s gripping Dennis’s free hand, giving him something to grab onto when he needs it. Dennis isn’t hard, yet, despite the urgency in which his hand strips his cock. Probably can’t get hard fully, after so much so quickly. That’s okay. If he doesn’t cum again, then that’s its own insight into a potential diagnosis.
So he speeds up, putting the transducer up in its little holder before getting a better grip. He pulls Dennis’s hips to the edge, relishing in the sound Dennis makes as he’s yanked, before letting himself go.
And, oh, does he let go.
The feeling is fucking bliss after so long of watching Dennis get fucked, of watching him come from nothing, moaning and writhing and whining like a perfect fucking boy. Dr. Abbot slams his hips against him without warning, making Dennis yelp. It’s fine. His back arches, and he moans so loudly that Dr. Abbot is sure he’s going to get in trouble.
Worth it.
He keeps going, because Dennis asked him to, and he knows Robby would stop him if it was too much for the kid. It doesn’t seem to be, because there’s a thin line of precum connecting his half-hard cock to his pelvis.
That sight alone makes Dr. Abbot realize he’s about two seconds away from blowing. Frantically, he pulls out, and gets one stroke in before he’s coming over Dennis’s equally erratic hand. His weight bears down on his hand, still braced on the bed beside Dennis. His breaths come in shaky.
Dr. Abbot will blame the overwhelming amount of teasing he’d given himself for the way his brain fully stops working, for nearly a minute. When he comes to, Dennis is practically bouncing beneath him, jerking hard into and away from his own hand. He can’t seem to make himself finish.
Despite himself, Dr. Abbot pries Dennis’s hand off. The resulting whine is fucking delicious, and it takes everything he has not to lean down and kiss the shit out of Dennis.
“Easy, kid,” he rasps instead. “Let me help you.”
His hand is more firm, consistent, than Dennis’s was on himself. Makes enough sense, since he’s not the one who’s probably bordering right on the line of too much. Dr. Abbot allows himself to look, for just a moment, since he knows he won’t get this again.
He looks at the rise and fall of Dennis’s chest, each ripple of muscle beneath his skin as they twitch and spasm automatically with need. His eyes scan down until they catch on the fingerprint-shaped bruises and hickeys that decorate Dennis’s hips again. Fuck, are they pretty, but he can’t say anything. He’s already crossed too many boundaries. Bringing that up might just be the final straw.
But, upon further inspection, Dr. Abbot finds shadows of something along the undersides of his thighs, the crux of his ass.
Fuuuuck. There are little zipper marks and the barest bruise forming where his jean button slammed against Dennis with each thrust. Dr. Abbot wants to touch them. His mouth waters.
Despite his better judgement, Dr. Abbot lets himself skirt his hand down over the contours of Dennis’s body until he settles at the back of his thigh and tugs. Dennis turns halfway onto his side with a choked moan, surprised, but not upset. His palm sweeps down the line of Dennis’s thigh, until Dr. Abbot reaches the red marks on his ass.
Just in case he’s misreading this whole thing, he squeezes Dennis’s cock harder, rubs his thumb firmly over the slit and on the flat of the head. At the same time, he curls his index finger and presses the back against where a whisper of bruising begins.
Dennis wails, his hand flying down to grasp Dr. Abbot’s wrist again. He lets him, but doesn’t stop either of the touches he’s giving. Off to the side, Robby groans, and leans in to kiss Dennis again, muffling him even if only slightly.
It’s a good thing he does, because Dennis practically shouts when he comes one final time. His body arches up, cock twitching, though barely anything comes out. His thigh shakes in Dr. Abbot’s grip. He thinks he might pass out momentarily.
When he blinks his eyes and manages to focus his vision enough, Dennis is greeted with Robby looming over him, a fond, if vaguely concerned look on his face.
“You alright, Den?” he asks softly, brushing over Dennis’s cheek with the back of his hand.
“Mmmmmugh,” Dennis manages, brain rebooting slowly. He blinks a couple more times.
A hand presses something cold, and kind of rough to his face. Dennis flinches before realizing it's just a damp towel, wiping him of sweat. Another is run over his torso, then his pelvis, and down. It must be Dr. Abbot cleaning him off, because Robby is gently massaging feeling back into his arms while continuing to check on Dennis.
“Squeeze your hand for me, sweetheart.” He does. His fingers are stiff, but moving. “Good.”
His thigh is lifted so that Dr. Abbot can wipe his ass, too. It’s a worse sensation, and Dennis jerks away from the shitty single-ply paper towel against very sensitive skin. Robby must be anticipating this, though, because he begins again.
“Shh, easy, honey. You just need to be cleaned up so I can get you home, hm? You did so well for Dr. Abbot.”
“Mmmhm?” Dennis asks. He tilts his head, knowing Robby will know what he wants. And he’s right. As Robby gently cups his head, as he brushes his thumb over Dennis’s temple, the boy smiles, and forces himself to relax.
“Mhm. Dr. Abbot got everything he needed, right?” Robby looks at Dr. Abbot, who’s fully clothed and acting all professional again. On the counter are the samples that were taken, and, now finished with cleaning Dennis up, Dr. Abbot appears to be taking notes. He nods at Robby’s assumption. “Jack’s going to be very proud of you when we get home.”
That makes Dennis’s stomach warm, makes it do little flips and loops of joy. He smiles softly.
“I assume you can’t stand right now?”
No. Fuck no, he can’t.
“Figured. Here,” Robby says as he begins dressing Dennis back up. Once he, too, is presentable enough, Robby helps him slide off of the bed and guides him to lean against him. Into Dennis’s hair, Robby murmurs, “You wanna try to walk out? Or do you want Daddy to carry you?”
“We could also get the wheelchair,” Dr. Abbot mentions off-handedly, though neither of the others pay him any mind.
Dennis takes a tentative step, feeling like a doe, legs wobbly and weak. But Robby catches him before he could fall even an inch.
“Don’t answer that. I’ll carry you, honey.”
He turns to face Dennis, and hikes him up by the thighs, pulling his legs around his waist. Dennis wraps his arms around Robby’s shoulders, and tucks his head into the crook of his neck. Robby kisses his temple before turning to leave.
“Should hopefully have results within the week,” Dr. Abbot calls as the door opens. He looks up from where he’s filing a report and frowns as he watches Robby walk off, almost offended. With arms spreading out from his hips, he calls, “What? No wheelchair?”