"What?"  Dennis was even more confused now.

I finally met his eyes.  I took his hands and moved them onto my shoulders.
Swallowing hard, I tried to work my way into the best southern belle accent
I could do.  "It sure would be nice if some nice big man could come show me
how getting cozy-like is done right."

Dennis's eyes widened, but he didn't move his hands.  "Mark, are you trying
to say what I think you are?"

I forced myself to smile.  "What do you think I'm trying to say?"

He started to move his hands in circles over my shoulders.  "You don't have
to do this.  Not for me.  I know you still must be hurting..."

I kissed him to make him quiet.  "I'm fine.  I want to help you.  Shut up
and screw me."

Dennis kept massaging my shoulders.  "Promise me you'll stop me if you start
panicking or something..."

It's just like Denny to worry more about me flipping out rather than him.
"I promise."

Dennis brushed his lips over my forehead.  "So basically....I can do
whatever I want with you?"

Ok, I gotta remember this is Dennis here...Dennis who loves me, who wouldn't
hurt me if his life depended on it.  "Yeah..."

He pushed me slightly so I was lying on my back on the couch and he was
kneeling over me.  "I don't even know where to start....so much Taker, so
little time...."

Well I'm glad he's having fun.  "New rule, you can do anything but make fat
jokes.  Because believe me, I know some myself."

Dennis held up his hands in defeat, and I have to admit, I missed the touch.
"Ok, ok, truce."  He returned his hands to the buttons of my shirt, very
slowly working each button out of its hole.  When he had gotten all of them
out, he slipped the shirt off my shoulders.  His fingers started tracing
light trails down my arms, skimming over the patterns of ink that decorated
them.  I moved my hands up to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the
necklace-shaped tattoo underneath.  I brushed my finger along the lines of
it until Dennis caught my hands.  "Stop that."

I raised my eyebrows.  "Did I do something?"

A slight smile touched Dennis's lips.  "Yeah, and that's the problem.  You
see, you told me I could do whatever I wanted with you.  And I want to take
care of you.  So you just lay right there and let me run things."

"Yes sir."  My voice held a note of amusement, but inside there was still a
spark of fear.  I'm not used to letting someone else be in charge.  It goes
against my nature.

But all of that was lost with the touch of Dennis's tongue on my collarbone.
He alternately ran his tongue along it and pressed light kisses to it.  I
shivered a little under the touch.  Dennis moved his mouth lower, taking one
of my nipples into his mouth.  I couldn't keep my fingers from clenching
into his hair.  He flicked his tongue over it, raising it into a sharp peak.
He pulled back to stare at it critically, running a finger over my chest.
"Nice pecs," he said quietly.

"I try."  My voice was slightly rough.  This is kinda fun...

Dennis shifted his attention to my other nipple, this time nipping slightly.
It sent tingles up through me.  Damn, I didn't know those things were so
sensitive.  And then he moved lower, kissing a trail down my stomach.  He
ended kneeling over my legs and staring down at my stomach.  "Mark, who or
what is 'B.S.H.' and why do you have so much pride in them?"

I closed my eyes, thinking of the words that adorned my stomach.  "It's
stupid."

"Tell me."

"It's a kind of motorcycle.  I...."  I took a deep breath.  "It's to cover a
scar I had there that I wanted to forget."

Dennis just kissed my gently.  "A kind of motorcycle, huh?  Well...let's see
if we can start your motor with it."  I forced myself to stay calm as he
traced the letters with his tongue, leaving streaks of burning heat.  Then,
his tongue darting into my bellybutton and I couldn't help but arch upward
slightly.  Dennis just sat back.  "Do you like that?"

I snorted slightly.  "You could say that."  He just chuckled and leaned back
down, darting his tongue inside and skimming the edge.  A moan slipped past
my lips.

And then his hands were at the waistband of my pants, unbuttoning them, and
then...oh fuck.  He was unzipping them with his teeth.  Of all the cliché,
silly things he could do...and yet it was erotic.  He got the zipper down
and eased my pants off my hips, throwing them on the floor.  And then my
boxers were off too, and Dennis was taking off his own pants.  He moved to
take off his own boxers, and the soft cotton brushed my arousal.  I couldn't
stop the gasp that came out.

Dennis moved back over me, tracing idle circle over my hips.  He bent down,
touching his lips to the head of my cock.  Visions passed through my head,
ones of being shoved to my knees by countless men who wanted me to service
them, of Dennis shaking on the porch as he told me of Stephanie biting him.
"Dennis...no."

He stopped abruptly, looking up.  "What's wrong?"

"That...Denny, I don't think that's the best thing for us to do right now."

"Ok."  Dennis took a deep breath, as if steadying himself.  Maybe I'm not
the only one who flipped out over that.  "You called me Denny."

Well, if it isn't the Name Game day.  First Kane, now him.  "Sorry, it
slipped out..."

He shook his head.  "Actually, I kinda like it."  He grinned.  "So, Marky,
are we ok to keep going, or do you want I should stop?"

I didn't take the name-calling bait.  "Keep going.  I'm good if you are."

He leaned over to grab a small tube from the small cabinet by the couch.  He
hesitated.  "You're sure now?"  I nodded, and he started to spread the lube
onto his fingers.  "Wow...I feel kinda special now.  I bet there's not man
guys who can say they fucked the big bad Undertaker."

"I bet there's too many," I muttered.

All of a sudden, Dennis was close to my face.  "Mark...listen.  Right
now...let's just forget, ok?  You were never a prostitute, I was never
raped.  It's just you and me right now, none of that shit."  His voice cuts
through me.  Why does he have more clarity on the whole matter twenty days
after he was brutalized than I do being away from my hell for twenty years?

And then Dennis pushes a finger inside of me.  It's a feeling that I barely
remember and it stops all of my thoughts.  All I can concentrate on is that
small part of him that is twisting inside of me.  He ever-so-slowly worked
in another finger, stretching me.  I focus on breathing evenly.  A third
finger goes in and now that's all shot to hell.  He positions himself
between my legs.  "I love you,"  he says simply, and pushes into me.

It turns out he was right.  There is no pain, no burning or stabbing like I
remember.  Only a sense of being full...and then he rocks his hips.  I push
back against him, and we start a rhythm.  His dull nails scrape down my back
with every thrust, and the sensation just turns me on more.  He's brushing
my prostate, and I'm drowning in the feeling.  I guess this is what doing it
right is like.

I realize I'm whimpering at about the same instant Dennis's hands move to
caress my face, lay kisses on my eyelids.  "You're beautiful, Mark..."

"No..." I gasp.  "You are."

He nuzzles my throat as he angles a thrust straight at my prostate, and I
climaxed, my back arching.  I could feel Dennis coming too, emptying into
me.  He pulled out and crawled up slightly, brushing his fingers across my
face.  "Mark?  You're crying..."

Aww hell.  How am I supposed to answer that.  "So're you,"  I mumbled.

He wrapped his arms around me, and I ended up with my face pressed into his
shoulder.  "Did I hurt you?"  he asked gently.

I shook my head.  "I'm fine.  Just leaking a bit."

He lowed his head onto mine, burying his face into my hair.  I could feel
his own tears hitting me.  "Thank you for trusting me," he whispered.  "I
know it had to be hard for you..."

"I needed to help you."  I swallowed up all my courage and pride.  "I love
you, Dennis."

There were no more words after that, only the feeling of him holding me.  He
is soft, squishy, like a teddy bear.  He makes a nice pillow.  And I know it
has to be late at night because I would never think of things like that if
it weren't.  And then, finally, there is sleep.