⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Cupid𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The call had come late in the evening while you were making dinner. Later than usual.

You were busy waiting for your microwave to finish heating up your nuke dinner when your phone started buzzing. The contact named 'cassie:))', typed by the woman herself.

"Hey, honey. Could you please come quick? I know you're supposed to have off, but the hospital just keeps calling, and calling-" She rushes out over the phone, feeling her guilt and slight panic radiating through the electromagnetic waves.

"Ms. McKay, I promise you are fine, I will be right there."

"Thank you, sweetheart. And it's Cassie." She gently chides, "See you in a bit."

You, of course, rush to get out of the house. Slipping on some suitable clothes, tugging on your shoes, and turning off your microwave before leaving the house with your essentials.

Even though Cassie is ten minutes away from you, you make it in 7, scurrying into her apartment building and up the elevator, texting her to let her know you're there.

You: i'm almost there! in the elevator now:) Sent: 9:12 PM

cassie:)): Thank you so much! Sent: 9:12 PM

cassie:)): Door's unlocked for you, honey. Sent: 9:13 PM

Once the elevator door dings open, you make your way to her door. Apartment 305 in bold letters above as you reach for the door handle, pushing the door open.

"Harrison, buddy!" You call out to the little boy, "We're gonna hang out for a bit while mom works! Which games do you—.." Your words then trail off as you lift your head.

The apartment looked empty, untouched, not pitch-black but dark enough for shadows to roam unknowingly.

You creep inside, hesitant as the door shuts quietly behind you. "Harrison? Ms. McKay?" You gently hum, brows furrowing as you hear shuffling from beyond.

The tranquility of the apartment is broken as a door creaks open, light spilling out, illuminating the way towards Cassie's bedroom.

You silently place your bag down on the ground, toeing off your shoes as you inch closer, about to call out when a dark figure appears in the doorway.

"For the last time, it's Cassie. Not Ms. McKay." The figure teasingly scolds, her quiet laughing letting you know it's just her.

"How come you're still here? Where's Harrison?" You mumble, watching as she turns her broad back to you, walking back into her bedroom.

A sigh escapes her perfect pink lips as she plops down onto her bed, surveying as you draw near the bedroom door. "It's actually one of Chad's weekends. 'm sorry I lied."

As you peek inside, you realise how little Cassie is clothed. The older woman was only dressed in some sleep shorts and a sports bra, her gold chain draped around her neck, twinkling in the warm light.

She's in her own home; she's allowed to wear whatever she wants! Why can't I stop looking at her—

You let out a surprised "oh" at her words, shoulders dropping in realisation, lips curling into a confused frown.

You hadn't even thought to check your calendar to see if it truly was one of Cassie's weekends. "How come you called me?"

"Truth is, 'm lonely, honey." She confesses, "And I wanted to spend some time with you."

Oh.

Your eyes widen at the brunette, just nodding, brows and frown softening. "O- Okay, yeah. Of course!"

Cassie bites back a smirk at your silent flusteredness, already spotting the pink dusting on your cheeks as she nods, "Okay." She repeats, certain.

You silently shuffle inside, shutting the door gently behind you as Cassie reaches behind her to grab an already-filled wine glass.

"Do you drink, sweetheart?"

You shake your head a little too quickly, not wanting to seem irresponsible, but answering truthfully as well.

The brunette chuckles at your quick response, nodding, whispering a small "good girl" under her breath before asking, "Do you wanna try some of my wine?"

You hesitantly glance at her glass, glancing back at the half-filled wine bottle sitting on her nightstand before your gaze settles back on her.

You didn't want to seem reckless, but you didn't want to be rude.

Cassie senses your unease, chuckling harder, holding out the glass to you with a calm smile. "C'mon, it'll be our little secret." She whispers playfully.

You bite the inside of your cheek, just staring at her before making your way closer. Slowly, you take the wine glass from her grip, taking a tentative sip from it.

".. It's not that bad, I think.." You whisper, taking another wary sip.

Cassie grins at you, nodding in approval. "Good, have some more, baby." She purrs, gently guiding the cup back to your lips.

The next thing you knew, you were drinking glassfuls of alcoholic grape juice, vision slightly blurring and head growing fuzzy.

For your first time getting drunk, this was nice, relaxing as you sprawl on the bed next to Cassie, making light conversation with her about whatever comes into mind as you both pass the wine glass between each other, warmth lingering low in your stomach.

"Do you wanna play truth or dare?" The woman murmurs, eyebrows raising challengingly as you giggle.

You bite at your bottom lip, laughter still escaping you as you nod eagerly, Cassie tenderly guiding the glass back to your lips.

"Alright, truth or dare?"

"Dare.." You giggle out after your long sip, handing the wine back to her.

Cassie bites back her smirk, eyes flickering with excitement. Your answer was exactly what she wanted to hear.

"I dare you to suck on my fingers for at least a minute."

The brunette watches as your already bleary eyes glaze over with hidden need, drunk smile immediately wiped off your face as your red cheeks grow darker.

This was probably highly inappropriate for a boss to be asking this, but your drunk brain didn't even put that into factor. All you could focus on was the older woman's intoxicating allure. (And trying not to just stare at her boobs in her black sports bra.)

She delicately grabs at your chin, pulling you closer as you crawl after her, swallowing thickly as you sit inbetween her thighs, feeling her pull at your jaw.

"Open, sweetheart." She breathes out, watching as your mouth falls open, instinctively sticking out your tongue.

She hums as she places her fingers onto your tongue, your mouth involuntarily closing around them as you glance around, trying to avoid her burning gaze as the growing ache between your thighs throbs.

Your cheeks bloom darker as you sit there, too drunk and flustered to follow the dare, your foggy brain still stuck on the fact that she's this close, let alone having her fingers in your mouth.

"Baby," She coos, making you snap your head towards her. "Be a good girl and look at me when you suck on my fingers."

You choke back a needy sound, quickly sucking on her digits as you sheepishly hold eye contact, watching as her eyes slightly light up in desire.

"That's it, good girl.."

God, you were so fucked. Literally.

Your eyes flutter shut as your mouth finds a rhythm that is both comforting and arousing, your thighs discreetly squeezing together. Your inebriated mind letting you slip loose, shoulders lowering.

You don't even notice how close the brunette got until you felt her breath tickling at your lobe, chuckling as she taunts, "I bet if I looked in your pretty panties, I'd find you wet."

Your eyes snap open, shaking your head timidly, your slurred voice muffled as you try to deny, "N-No, ma'am—"

"Ma'am? So polite." She croons, her unoccupied hand trailing down to the fabric of your shorts, sneaking under as you try to keep your thighs clamped shut.

"Open." She tuts, pressing a small kiss to your jaw, grinning against your skin once your thighs fall open obediently. "There we go, sweet girl."

Your breath shakes, pulse quickening once you feel her fingers skim over your heat, feeling you practically dripping onto her fingertips, shivering as she ghosts over your clit.

"Aw, poor baby.." She teased, biting back her grin, "You are drooling into my hand— God, you make this too easy for me, honey."

You whimper from beneath her fingers at her words, cheeks flushing impossibly darker at her tone. "Cassie.."

"Shh, lay back, sweet girl. I got you."

You melt into her touch, letting her guide you back onto the bedsheets as she begins to stroke slow circles on your bud, the alcohol in your system making you even more sensitive.

The older woman slips her fingers from between your teeth, pressing a peck to your cheek, cuffing your cheek as she continues to stroke your folds.

Electricity thrums under your skin as your back arches, whining at her gentle touch, thighs spreading further apart. She comfortingly rubs her thumb over the apple of your cheek, watching as you nuzzel her hand.

"That's it.." Cassie soothed, smiling widely at your dazed-out face. "What do you need, baby? Tell me."

You choke out another whine, burying yourself into her hand, bashful as your clutch at her shoulders.

"Come on, talk to me, sweetheart." She sighs, resting her in the crook of your neck, making you shudder as she mouths at your throat.

You whimper, hands trailing up to her hair. "Need you inside, m- Cassie— Need your fingers.." You hesitantly slur out.

The brunette giggles at your drunk, blissed-out expression, pulling away to quickly get rid of the pesky fabric of your clothes stuck in her way.

She laughs harder at your mourning whine as the friction suddenly disappears, hips and core quivering as the cool air stings into you once your underwear slips down your thighs.

"Sh, sh, I know, baby.. 'm so mean.." She coos, pressing some soothing kisses to your cheek as she brushes against your bare pussy, sending sparks up and down your body.

It wasn't long before you felt the woman's slender fingers prodding at your entrance, tender as they plunged inside, feeding you her fingers inch by inch.

You gasp at the first inch, hand coming up to cover your face, fingers ending up in your mouth as you bite on them for some peace of mind, trying to ground yourself through the aching need and pain of the stretch.

Cassie runs her fingers through her hair, shushing and praising into your skin as she works you open, letting you get used to every inch of her fingers, rubbing easing circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Such a pretty pussy, such a pretty girl for me.."

"Shh, baby, I know. So much, huh?"

"I've got you, breathe, sweetheart."

"Good girl, taking my fingers so well.."

You shakily reach out to the woman with your unoccupied hand, palm landing on her cheek as she gently rocks her fingers, pumping in and out at a dizzingly slow pace.

"P-Please.. You can move more— fuck, please.." You hiccup, words garbled between your fingers, breath hitching at her thumb circling firmer.

The brunette chuckles, tilting into the palm of your hand as her touch grows further, thumb circling a bit faster as her fingers speed up in a languid, rhythmic pace. "Good girl, so proud of you for askin'.."

You let out a high-pitched whine from behind your fingers at her thrusts and praise, face growing hotter as tingles spread up your spine and heat blooms hotter like a flower in your stomach.

She digs her face into your neck, nosing at your skin as she breathes you in, feeling the vibration of your noises through your throat as they escape.

You quickly grip at the sheets above you, desperate for something to hold on to as your sensitive pussy is pumped open, fluttering around her fingers as they brush against your sweet spot over and over.

"Fuck, mommy..!" You mewl at a particular thrust, hitting deeper inside you than any other, not even noticing what spilled out of your mouth.

The woman above you pauses, quickly, but carefully, grabbing at your chin, forcing your eyes to flutter open to her, the air thickening.

"What'd you just say?" She breathlessly whispers, blood rushing to her own core, as you moan incoherently, brows softly furrowing.

"Hm..?"

"What did you just call me?"

That gets your attention real fast.

Your glazed-over eyes widen as you remember what you moaned, fingers slipping from your lips. "Uh, um—" You croak, slightly panicking as you watch her unreadable expression.

"Say it again." She grits, fingers suddenly picking up back where she left off, pace roughening, catching you by surprise as you yelp, hands gripping at her biceps, nails digging into her soft-toned flesh.

You helplessly wail out at the woman's frenzied tempo, rambling nonsense as your fuzzy mind reels. "'m sorry, 'm sorry— mommy!—"

You hear the brunette grunt at the name, her resolve breaking, pumping her digits faster and finally capturing your lips with hers.

Cassie nips at your bottom lip, instantly soothing it with a swipe of her tongue, grabbing at one of your thighs, pinning it between her own as she sinks down onto it with a shaky sigh against your mouth.

"Good fucking girl." She pants out, pressing some more small kisses to your lips, rutting herself against your leg as she continues to pump.

You whimper at the first grind of her hips, mouth dropping open, nails almost to the point of drawing blood as a coil slowly forms in your stomach at her thrusting digits.

"Ohmygod—" You slur out, back arching, nerves fried, and heart racing as you continue to endure Cassie's gently brutal pace.

She laughs, spreading kisses down to your jaw as she bucks her hips harsher against your thigh, desperate for the friction. "I know, sweet girl, I know.." She mockingly coos against your jaw. "Too much for your pretty brain to comprehend, huh?"

You just whine at her words, noises still pouring out of you as you feel yourself slowly approaching the edge of the terrifyingly intoxicating peak, your walls clenching around her.

"That's it, baby, just let go.." She coaxes, chuckling at your helpless moaning as she bites back her own sounds. "Mommy's got you."

You sob out at Cassie's coo, hands frantically reaching up to cuff her face, just garbling out gibberish to her as you cry and moan, as you reach the tip of the peak, gut tensing and walls fluttering.

"Shh, shh," She purrs, "C'mon, baby.. Cum for mommy, wanna feel it."

You hiccup, just mumbling her name over and over, pulling her forehead down towards yours as the coil suddenly bursts, hips twitching and eyes roll back slightly.

The brunette moans alongside you as you see stars, the waves rolling over you as she humps your leg vigorously.

You grip tighter at Cassie's cheeks, crying softly at her still working you open, muscles untensing as she slows down for your sensitive heat.

"Good girl— Good fucking girl.. Bare with mommy, almost there, sweetheart." She croaks, throat hoarse from fighting back her guttural moans.

The older woman continues to use your leg, every rock her hips hitting her clit just right, the sounds and feeling of your orgasm helping her rapidly approach her own.

Cassie's breath hitches as she feels her own muscles tensing, hips stuttering against your thigh, back arching slightly as she reaches the edge.

With another jerk of her hips, her knees buckles, crying out softly with a hoarse moan as her orgasm takes over all of her senses, collapsing into you.

You whine, gently clinging to her, pawing at her hot skin, brain still foggy with pleasure and need.

Her breath is heavy on your sweat-ridden neck, panting and hot against your wet skin as the two of you ride out your highs.

You slump back into the mattress when she finally eases her fingers out of you, whining up at her suddenly getting up from the bed.

"Mommy..?" You garble out, watching her close with half-lidded eyes as her lips break out into a a soft, tired smile.

She gently hushs you, "'m right here, just grabbing some things to clean up my girl, 'kay..?"

You mindlessly nod, pout still on your lips at the growing distance as she walks away with trembling thighs and careful steps to the bathroom.

The older woman grabs a towel, turning the nozzle on in her tub, face scrunching at the loud sound. She then shuffles back into the bedroom, watching as you pout impatiently.

"Sweetheart, how you feeling..?" She gently calls out, crawling back over to you as you whine, immediately clinging to her once she's close enough.

"Fine.." You huff, yawning softly.

"Nothing hurts, baby..?"

You silently shake your head, rubbing at your eye like a exhausted child as Cassie presses some kisses to your temple.

"Good, good." She whispers, gently wiping at you with the towel. "After 'm done, we can take a bath together.. Unless, you don't want to-"

"Of course I do..!" You quickly mumble, fighting back the urge to wiggle away at her cleaning. "'m okay.." You hum, mind still a bit fuzzy from the wine and your orgasm.

The brunette chuckles, lips brushing against your cheek as she finishes up with wiping your slick. "C'mon, sweet girl."

A giddy sound escapes you as Cassie helps you up from the comforting sheets, guiding you towards the bathroom as you stumble like a fawn learning to walk.

"This is your fault..!" You squeal as you continue to stagger and trip on air, clinging to her as she desperately holds back her own laughter.

You giggle as the woman sets you down on the edge of the tub, hastily turning off the running water as she gives you an amused grin. "So graceful.." She snorts as she begins to help you out of your shirt and bra.

You laugh harder, head tilting back as you beam and wheeze, causing the woman to grab hold of your hips, not letting you fall back into the tub.

"See what I mean?" She mumbles under her breath, thumbs rubbing over your bare skin as she leans, pressing some lingering kisses up your jaw and to your mouth, cutting off your settling laughter with a soft press.

The bathroom grows quiet with only the sound of your shared contented breathing and the dripping from the leaky bathtub faucet.

The two of you slowly pull away once it becomes essential to breathe, resting your foreheads together as Cassie continues to massage at the fat of your waist. You bite back your dopey grin, just melting into the palm of her hands as you grip at the strap of her bra.

"Lemme help you out.." You murmur, fingers gently trailing down to the hem of the sports fabric, as the brunette sniggers.

"You just want to see me naked."

You shrug innocently, biting back your excitement as you tug eagerly at her clothes, helping her out of the fabric as the older woman lets you, stepping out of her shorts, relaxing at the feeling of your fervent hands.

Once the both of you are naked, Cassie tenderly helps you up from the edge, holding your weight and keeping you balanced as you clumsily step into the warm, inviting tub.

The older woman swiftly joins you into the water, slipping in behind you once you've settled in the steam, groaning at your tired limbs as she sits down, pulling you close and hooking her chin around your shoulder.

"Better, baby?" She whispers, pressing some kisses to your cheek as you nod, eyes fluttering shut at her lulling hold.

"Might fall asleep in here.." You sigh, head falling back onto her chest as Cassie chuckles, pressing some more pecks to your skin, wherever she could reach.

You feel her strong arms drawing you in impossibly closer as her lips ghost over the span of your shoulder blade. "I don't mind, sweetheart. I know you're tired." She then mutters under her breath, "Kinda my fault.."

You breathlessly huff out a laugh, turning lax against her, mind slipping deeper into relaxation as you promptly fall asleep.

Cassie fights back her own laughter as she feels you go limp, nosing at your hair and kissing your scalp as she silently begins to wash you.

The next thing you knew was sunlight shining through her curtains, curled up into the woman's chest under the sheets, clad in one of her t-shirts and a pair of her shorts.

You lazily lift your head, looking around the bedroom, cheeks flushing as you slowly remember what happened last night and why you have a headache so early in the morning.

Your gaze then settles on the sleeping woman, your arms instinctively squeezing tighter around her waist as your heart pangs at the sight of her so tranquil.

You gently rest your chin on her sternum, staring up at her calm expression, arm unraveling from her waist to gently trail up to cuff her cheek, thumb rubbing experimentally against her soft skin.

After a few seconds, a rumble escapes Cassie's chest as she leisurely wakes up, lashes fluttering and breath hitching as she rises.

Her eyes open to the sight of you looking up at her with a fond look in your eyes, smiling drowsily as she tilts into your palm like a dog. "Good morning.." She hums, hoarse and soft all at once.

You're about to say 'good morning' back when you hear the front door open from behind the bedroom door, hearing a little boy's footsteps as they practically sprint over to the door.

A few seconds later, the wooden door suddenly bursts open, her 11-year-old, Harrison, running inside as his father stands smugly behind him, Chad's expression dropping when he notices you under the covers.

Part of you basks in the man's look of disbelief. Serves him right for being a piece of shit.

"Good morning, Mom!" Harrison shouts, about to jump onto the bed when he freezes, noticing you lying in the bed right next to his mom. "Is that?—"

Uh oh.

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You've had enough by the third day in a row Noelle calls you on her way out of work to complain about Robby.

In all fairness, it's your own fault for having allowed her to go out with him instead of nipping it in the bud the second you noticed her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth turn upwards into a flirty smirk.

Ugh if you could go back in time, you would've slapped the ever living shit out of both of them, her for falling for it and him...for literally just existing.

Luckily for you, you got put on night shift rotation soon after they started...hanging out. Cause, even at his old ass age of fifty plus years, chief attending Michael Robinavitch "doesn't date”.

"We're just keeping it casual". Ah yes, famous last words for an anxiously attached, perfect princess that is Noelle Hastings.

It doesn't matter how smart someone is, no one prepares you for how stupid “getting dicked down good”, her words, not yours, will make you. You honestly wish you could scrub the memory of her coming down to the ED almost every single second of the day with the most obnoxious excuses just so that she could talk to him.

It made you gag involuntarily every time, earning you a sharp slap on the arm from her and a curious side glance from Dana. After a few days of torture, your boss needed to switch you out to nights, their resident recluse social worker that tended to take the shifts having to take a sudden leave of absence and since your other coworker had just become a dad, it was literally down to you.

The joys of being single and unattached.

So you'd made the switch, getting to escape the horror that was seeing them interact in person, but still getting an hour long debrief every night while you got ready to clock in. 

You're certain this is how they're going to torture you when you inevitably end up in hell and this is just a preview.

"And then he texted that he needed space, that this just isn't working for him anymore! Can you believe him?"

Yes, yes you can.

You sigh into the phone, not really knowing what to say to comfort her since...you both knew of his reputation before she jumped into bed with him.

So you settle on—"I'm sorry, babe. He's an idiot who clearly doesn't know what he's throwing away."

The words sound foreign to you when you say them. They're rehearsed, recycled from all the other times you've had to give her the same reassurance over and over again.

Truth be told, Noelle is also a part of the problem, so focused on being the one to break his pattern that she also fell victim to her own self-destructive nature.

"I just—I feel like I'm crazy, you know? Like what the fuck is wrong with me? I'm forty-two for fuck's sake! I should not be feeling this—this—ugh!"

That pulls a little giggle out of you. It's always funny to you when, no matter her age and maturity, she ends up in situations that make her feel just as silly and confused as your twenty-five year old ass. 

"Hey!" you check her. "You did nothing wrong...aside from sleeping with him when you knew he was emotionally unavailable—" she whines, forcing another laugh from you. "He's the problem. He should just make peace with dying alone and not bother anyone else for the rest of his miserable life."

You hear her let out a laugh that unmistakably crumbles into a sob. Fuck, you feel so bad. You wish you could comfort her, wish you could be a good friend to her, but the truth is...you honestly don't know how.

So you joke.

"And hey, maybe some hot piece of ass will cross his path and give him a taste of his own medicine, he's bound to run into someone with an even worse avoidant attachment than him."

You chuckle nervously.

The line goes uncharacteristically quiet.

Ominous.

You tap your phone screen to make sure you haven't lost her.

The call's timer continues on.

And then—

"Why don't you do it?"

After a five minute long string of apologies and desperately trying to let you know that she didn't mean for it to come across as questioning your character—which ouch, to say the least—Noelle finally let you get a word in.

"Yeah why not."

You would've given anything to see the shock on her face in person but the thick silence that followed your admission would have to do for now.

In all honesty, you've been looking for another project to keep you entertained through the rigorousness and emotional weight that came from working as a social worker. All your empathy went to making sure your patients got the best care and support possible, so being given a reason to do something just a little mean?

Worth the possible humiliation, and even then, you could just go back to working nights and escape having to deal with him ever again.

Yeah you definitely needed to work on your avoidance…but that could wait.

Convincing your boss to let you switch to days wasn’t hard. You’d asked one of your coworkers who owed you a favor to switch with you, claim he needed to do something, you honestly couldn’t care, for seven weeks and that they needed to change around their hours.

It works flawlessly.

So after one more night shift and two days to get your body back on track for days, you were making your way into the ED for your 8 am call time for the first time in years.

And immediately…you desperately miss the night shift.

You’ve had to work closely with some of the day shift doctors and nurses throughout your tenure, but it was always just one or two per shift, drenched in the pace and culture of the night shift—a little weird but also very chill—so now having to deal with all of them…it was a shock to the system to say the least.

Santo’s anger, Whitaker’s “nice guy” persona, McKay’s righteousness, Ogilvie’s…everything; it’s a lot to take in constantly. You cherish getting to work with the more level headed ones and constantly have to bite your tongue when Robby reprimands them.

Michael Robinavitch is…the universe’s response to you, all ego and fragile masculinity.

You can see the appeal, rugged around the edges, like a home renovation project you know will ultimately cost you your entire life’s savings but maybe, just maybe, you’ll find original hardwood floors underneath the disgusting plastic panelling the last landlord installed.

Jokes on everyone because you’re investing in this house to tear it all down.

You spend the first week observing, calculating, making friends and getting as much gossip as you can from the loves of your life, Perlah and Princess. If either of them know about your reputation, neither lets it be known, eager to actually talk shop with someone from nights who can fill in the gaps to the gossip that has gone incomplete for the past year.

So you do, you trade information for loyalty, something that Dana clocks right away.

She tries to shoo you away constantly, begging you not to distract her staff, but that doesn’t stop you from joining their group chat, bringing them coffee, joining them for bottomless margaritas after their shift.

The doctors aren’t any different either, loose tongues spewing little comments about Robby’s deteriorating behavior ever since Pitt Fest almost a year ago.

For a second you feel bad, all of his outbursts clearly stemming from the trauma of the event…and after you learn that his mentor passed away that same day, well the whole picture makes much more sense.

How Noelle ever thought that she could fix him is beyond you.

There’s nothing to fix, only a shell of a man that literally doesn’t know where he’s going anymore or even if he wants to keep going in any direction.

You do wonder if you might start pushing him too far, what his reaction could be if what you do actually pushes him over the edge. You try to inquire about support systems and even therapy…but he’s literally raw dogging his illness.

All you really can do is tell Jack to be ready if anything happens.

Which you’re sure won’t.

Robby’s too narcissistic for it.

God’s gift to medicine and all that.

He’s a lonely bachelor. Afraid of the silence. Overwhelmed by the noise. Just a ball of stress and anxiety and everything that makes your chest tighten and your breathing hitch in the worst way possible.

But fuck it.

Just because you can excuse away his behavior doesn’t mean you should just let it slide.

The bigger issue now is…how to get him to become interested in you?

You honestly don’t know how you can compete with Noelle.

She’s the total package—beautiful, successful, age appropriate—there’s no way you can—

“I’ve never seen you before.”

Of course…all men are exactly the same.

You don’t even deign him with a glance his way, simply continue filling out the chart in your hands.

“That’s good,” you joke. “I’d be worried if you had, there’s thousands of people working in the hospital, it would be creepy if you knew every single person.”

You hear him smirk, shifting closer to you until your arms touch.

Oh this is going to be absurdly easy.

“I’m Dr. Robinavitch,” he awkwardly extends his hand towards you. “But everyone just calls me Robby.”

That’s when you turn to look at him, a shy yet genuine smile tugging at your lips. You shake his hand, making sure to linger just enough as you tell him your name in return.

You can see his brain working overtime to commit it to memory.

You finally let go of his hand when Dana calls out to him, incoming trauma, two minutes out, multi-car pileup.

Oh boy, that’s gonna be a shit show.

You feel him wince, taking off his hoodie in preparation for the marathon he’s about to run. You can’t help but ogle, the way his scrub top lifts ever so slightly, exposing his soft belly underneath.

You breathing hitches ever so slightly, but he catches it, catches you. Hook.

He grins, his beautiful crows feet framing his tired eyes. Line.

Your cheeks heat up. You advert your gaze, shame bubbling ever so slightly.

“Good luck,” you tell him, running away before the ED devolves into even more chaos.

He’s too slow, watching you go as the world around him disappears for just a second, realization dawning on him that he didn’t get your number.

Sinker.

He doesn’t ask anyone for your number.

You know because no one has come up to you to ask if you’re okay with the chief of the emergency department having direct access to you.

So you just wait.

You know you’ll run into him again eventually, but every time you go down to the ED after the car crash leaves you empty. You don’t run into him even once. You barely even catch glimpses of him walking the floor and catching up with his residents.

If he’s straight up avoiding you, there’s simply no way to know.

So you’re left to manufacture your own luck, unfortunately.

You know about their park beer tradition.

So you linger. Gross.

Day shift ends at seven. There’s charting and handovers and…whatever old men do when they don’t have a reason to go home so they stick around for way longer than they have to.

It’s about nine when you notice the day shift start to thin out so you take your chance, pretending to be engrossed in your phone as you loiter around the public entrance to the ED. It’s five minutes later when Donnie, Perlah, Santos, Samira and Whitaker step out, two six packs in hand.

“Hey, transplant!” Donnie greets you, the nickname causing you to roll your eyes playfully. In another life, you could’ve been great friends. “Wanna join us?”

He lifts up a pack so that you’ll catch his drift.

You pretend to think about it for two seconds until they catch your drift, devolving into a gaggle of laughter and pent up energy.

You follow them across the street to the park, settling next to Perlah as you try to ask her about her day in Tagalog, gotta keep up with them somehow.

Small talk is lively and you can literally feel the energy shift as they unload the horrible things that happened to them.

You listen, intently and surprisingly engaged, as Donnie and Santos reenact the scene for you.

“Oh my god? That’s actually fucked up.”

Everyone laughs, everyone drinks, everyone feels better.

And then silence falls.

It’s like your body knows he’s behind you before anyone gives you a heads up.

“Want one, cap?” Donnie asks him but you’re certain he declines because all he says is your name, practically begging you to turn to look at him.

You do, pretending to be a doe caught in headlights, your favorite move honestly.

“Ready to go?”

Your brows scrunch in confusion briefly before you catch the meaning in his words.

Oh wow. You did not think he was going to be so forward.

Okay, this makes it even easier for you.

“Yeah!”

You detach yourself from Perlah and Samira, saying goodbye to everyone and chugging the last of your now warm beer before adding it to the tower you’ve constructed. When it doesn’t topple over, you all erupt into a chorus of cheers.

You bow dramatically, cheeks hot, heart beating out of your chest.

“I’ll catch you guys later,” you wave goodbye, grabbing your tote and walking away from the group towards your apartment, not even bothering to wait for Robby to catch up, because you just know he’s following.

He settles into a comfortable pace beside you two blocks later, after a long internal battle with himself to follow through or back out. He still can, you know for a fact he won’t do anything to you in this state, even if you’re perfectly fine only having had one beer.

His arm bumps against yours, his towering frame inadvertently making you drool a little.

“I didn’t know I had an escort tonight,” you chuckle, the double meaning of your words clearly making him choke on a breath.

You giggle, enjoying his lack of game. It’s all a ploy, you know that much. Pretend to be shy and like he doesn’t know what he’s doing—it’s definitely disarming.

“What can I say,” he huffs. “Would you like me to make up a lie about crime rising in the city or how a lady as lovely as yourself should definitely not be walking alone at night?”

Your cheeks burn. Jesus fuck, he’s good.

“Well, considering I usually take the bus and decided to walk only because a grown ass man such as yourself doesn’t drive a car—”

He lets out a gasp in mock offense. “Hey, it would be irresponsible for me to drive after working for more than twelve hours.”

It’s a line, definitely. Yet it works.

You stop abruptly, giving him the reaction he craves.

He turns to you then, a little concerned, definitely still strung up from all that pent up energy that won’t leave him, ready to get right back into crisis mode—

“That’s…so hot.”

His features soften as your words process.

He shoots you a shy smile in return. “Don’t know about that—”

“What, you don’t think empathy is sexy?”

He looks down at his shoes then, finding them incredibly interesting all of a sudden.

“I don’t think I’m…it doesn’t matter. Point is,” he looks back up at you, like a lost puppy that’s begging you to get him off the street. “I prefer to walk.”

You don’t hesitate, stepping up to him, getting all up in his personal space, arms wrapping around his torso, standing on your tip toes so that you can be as close to his mouth as possible.

“Well, I don’t have to think,” you whisper over his lips. “I just know.”

You watch him close his eyes, mouth hanging open just slightly, body just barely leaning forward into you. 

He wants you to do it.

You smirk, your lips right there—

He almost falls flat on his face as you swiftly detach yourself from him.

“I’m starving, Dr. Robby,” you whine. 

It takes him a second to regain his composure. You’re certain he’s thanking every single deity that it’s just the two of you right now because he definitely looks pathetic.

“Wanna get some food?” He clears his throat, the pink on his ears a clear sign that he’s just not okay.

You nod, biting back a grin, threading his hand in yours and pulling him towards the 24-hour diner up ahead.

You spend the rest of the week doing the awkward dance around your feelings.

You’re certain he’s made up his mind about you, waiting for you to take the leap and put him out of his misery for good.

But you don’t.

You keep him on his toes, questioning whether your touches are simply friendly or not, desperate for you to help him find some relief from the lust that has started to build up inside of him.

It’s a Saturday when you finally put your plan into motion.

You’re over at his, a pizza and a pint of ice cream shared while watching a movie. Such a domestic night. If you didn’t know any better, it’d look like the two of you were in a relationship.

You’ve “fallen asleep” as the credits roll, body falling onto his in the process. You can feel his heart speed up as you cuddle into him, head resting snugly over his chest as your leg drapes over his crotch.

He’s already hard under the blanket, it’s why he draped it over his legs in the first place, but you managed to burrow yourself under it quickly, reveling in how he tensed painfully as you did so, your warmth on his body overwhelming.

You’ll give it to Robby, his restraint has been astounding. He hasn’t even tried to kiss you yet, luckily for you. You wait until his heart returns to normal, until he lulls himself into a false sense of security, until he doesn’t try to move you or wake you up. 

He’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

It’s when he settles, arms wrapped around you softly, enjoying your closeness, that you strike.

You move your hips, a sleepy jerk at first.

It’s exhilarating.

His heart picks up again, arms lifting off your body for deniability, but you don’t wake up. Instead, you adjust, further onto him, practically straddling him now.

Your crotch rubs over his, the thin fabric of his boxers that he’s lent you so that you can sleep more comfortably doing nothing to stop him from feeling just how warm you are down there.

He stifles a groan, his dick practically screaming at him for some relief. He’s decked himself out in sweatpants and a long sleeve, practically covering up every inch of skin in an attempt to not come across as a creep.

And what have you done?

The exact opposite, wearing his shirt, his underwear, and nothing else.

He should feel elated that you’re so comfortable around him, but right now, with your folds practically rubbing against him, he’s reminded of just how depraved he is.

You hum softly, satisfyingly as your clit rubs against his length.

There’s no way this is actually happening, that you know what you’re doing, right?

When you don’t wake yourself up, Robby settles down a little, allowing himself the simple indulgence of feeling you, of being used for your pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open just against his neck. He can feel the little pants, the neediness—

He just wants to help, he needs to.

So he shakes you awake.

“Honey,” the word rumbles against your ear. “Need you to stop doing that.”

You “blink awake”, catching yourself in the act, mortification flooding your face instantly.

“Oh my god I am so sorry,” you go to leap off him but his hands instantly stop you, pressing you roughly against him.

You moan, hands coming up to bunch in the fabric of his shirt.

“Robby—” you pant, real shame bubbling in your gut, a spark of excitement rushing through your body. 

He shushes you gently, slowly moving you over his dick, the pressure just right.

“Fuck.” You actually want to cum now. A nice side effect from all of your scheming.

He manages a chuckle, eyes locked on you, desperate to watch you come undone over him, against him, because of him.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Use me, baby, such a good girl.”

So you put on a good show for him.

Your mouth hangs open in a perpetual oh, your hips begin to roll in tandem with his own, your hands caress his shoulders, making their way around his neck to rake your fingernails on the nape, scratching right where you’ve seen him do to himself many times before.

He shivers then, his legs shaking, core tightening as he spasms beneath you. Dampness seeps through his sweatpants, his arms snaking around your back to pull you in, press you tightly against his chest as his head falls into the crook of your neck.

He moans through his orgasm, hissing only when his dick has gone soft and you’re still putting pressure on it, your own release evading you.

“Oh baby,” he coos condescendingly and you desperately have to lock up your heart as to not fall for it. “Let me help you.”

One of his hands snakes underneath the waistband of the boxers you’re wearing, his pointer and middle finger pinching at your clit. You yelp, body jerking away from his hand but you’re so close to him that there’s nowhere to run.

So you settle on him harder, causing him just as much pain as he’s causing you.

He chuckles against your skin, moving on from pinching to rolling the pads of his fingers gently now, your own pleasure slowly building back up from there.

“Robby,” you huff into his ear, gooey and needy. “Please…please, oh god please may I cum—”

He doesn’t respond with words, instead he just picks up the pace, swishing his touch from side to side until you’re a heaving, panting mess, your core clenching around nothing and exploding in unbelievable pleasure.

Your orgasm washes over you swiftly, your own release mixing with his own, getting the two of you even more messy and worked up than before.

You slump against him, breathing heavily as you try to match your breathing with his own. He’s actually lovely, drawing gentle circles over your thighs, holding you against his warmth until you’re ready.

Eventually, you peel yourself back, a dopey smile on your face

“Hi,” Robby blushes.

“Hey,” you roll your eyes, causing him to laugh in response at your brattiness.

“Alright, whatever,” he can’t stop laughing, a sound so foreign to him that it breaks his heart a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nod, making no attempt to get off him, desperate to hold onto him like glue. And to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to care, letting himself get swept away in the fantasy of intimacy.

So obviously, you have to avoid him now at all costs.

Every time you’re called down to the ED, you make sure to sneak away before he can even notice you. If you’re working on one of his cases, you’re professional and to the point, never meeting his eyes knowing a knowing smirk awaits you.

By the fourth day of you ignoring him at the hospital and dismissing his texts, you know he’s desperate. It’s why, when a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you sharply into a supply closet, the little gasp that escapes you is more thrill than surprise.

Strong hands roam your body greedily as you barely hear the door shut, the lock latching afterwards.

He doesn’t even try to kiss your lips, instead, he focuses on leaving a sloppy, desperate trail down your neck as he towers over you.

“Robby,” you whine, voice shaky already. “What’re you—fuck, what’re you doing?”

He grins against your collarbone. “What’s it look like?”

You shiver, a breath getting caught in your chest as you try to stand your ground.

“We’re at work.”

“So?”

It’s your own fault really.

You could push him away, could set down strong boundaries and tell him to fuck off…

But you don’t.

You get swept up in the desperation, in his neediness, in just how special he’s made you with his attention.

His hand snakes beneath your skirt before you can even think of how to respond, your very cheeky choice of not wearing any shorts underneath a blessing in disguise as his fingers swiftly pull your panties to the side to run along your folds.

You whimper, legs turning to jelly as he positions his own in between them to hold you up.

“Oh baby, you’re so wet,” he groans against your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Did you miss me too?”

You nod, biting down on your lip to stop the moans from escaping.

“Gonna cum all over my fingers?” He accentuates by sliding his middle finger into you, your walls clenching around it sinfully. “Of course you are, so good for me.”

Tears begin to swell in your eyes as his pointer finger joins in, his movements leisurely and mean. He barely curls them, barely gives you any relief that isn’t for his own enjoyment.

“Robby…you’re being…you’re being mean,” you whine. “Please—”

That gets a belly laugh from him in return, cruel now.

“Oh baby, you thought I was just gonna give you what you wanted? After you ignored me for four days?”

“I wasn’t—I got busy.”

You’re panting now, voice barely recognizable as he continues to torture you.

He shakes his head. “No, you’re not that good a liar, baby,” he curls and you clench. “I’ve seen you around, seen how you run off when you see me—so now I’m gonna take my time.”

The tears fall, your makeup running down your cheeks along with them. He preens at the sight, mouth kissing over your cheekbone lightly to taste the salty streaks.

He groans at the taste, slamming you back against the wall a little harder, his fingers picking up the pace, lodging themselves inside of you and wriggling them against your g-spot relentlessly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Robby shit—” you bite down on his bicep to muffle your moans. He hisses, the pain only spurring him on apparently.

Jesus fucking Christ, maybe you have finally found a worthy opponent.

You’re coming undone in seconds, his harshness only turning you on quicker, causing your orgasm to spring up on you suddenly. You’re shaking so hard you’re certain the shelves are vibrating around you.

He chuckles darkly, taking advantage of your blissed out state to wrap his lips just below your ear, right on your pulse point, sucking a purple mark onto your skin.

Once he’s satisfied and you’ve stopped shaking, he finally pulls back, watching you though lust clouded eyes as you continue to pant. You stare up at him, shaking your head incredulously.

It isn’t until he steps forward, his crotch pressing against your lower abdomen that you snap back to the present.

Robby’s big, unsurprising giving his…everything. The first time you felt it you had to pretend like you hadn’t noticed, all so that your heart wouldn’t give out. But now…now you want to drop to your knees and take him right into your mouth, alleviate—

His phone rings, invading your little pocket of deviancy.

He hisses loudly, annoyance exploding through every nerve in his body. You giggle, teasingly raking your nails along his exposed skin. He shivers under you but picks up the phone.

Emergency, obviously, it comes with the territory.

Even though it’s five minutes out, they’re scrambling, looking for him. He huffs in distress, nodding along to whatever Dana’s saying. Meanwhile, you distract yourself by peppering his jaw and neck with kisses, torturing him at his own game.

He hangs up the phone, making sure to settle you back down on your own two feet gently before he kisses your temple and walks to the door.

You’re supposed to let him go, keep your mysterious persona alive, you know that and yet—

Your hand reaches out for him, stopping him before he can leave.

He turns to you, brows scrunched in both confusion and hope?

“Five minutes out?”

He catches your drift instantly, his cock twitching in his scrubs painfully.

You step forward, staring up at him through your lashes, taking in how his shoulders drop, how his face relaxes, how his eyes close and his mouth hangs open just slightly as your nails flutter just above his bellybutton, pulling at his scrub top and his undershirt.

Pulling the fabric from where they’re tucked into his pants, you make a point to trace his belly, humming satisfactorily as he shivers beneath your touch. He doesn’t move, doesn’t dare touch you, doesn’t even dare breathe or make a single sound.

Your left hand reaches underneath the elastic, swiftly pulling the fabric out before it wraps around the base of his length. He’s thick and hot and perfectly heavy in your palm, the hair around him only adding to his attractiveness.

Fuck, you have got to pull yourself together. This is definitely getting away from you, soon this won’t just be about playing with your food and your heart aches at the thought.

He hisses at the contact, eyes shooting open to land on yours, and the second they do, you make a show of spitting on your right hand swiftly replace your other with it.

The slick makes it so easy to stroke him, putting just the right amount of pressure against his hardness as you slowly pull his boxers and pants off to his mid thighs so that you can work more comfortably.

The cold hospital air hits his throbbing tip and he twitches against your palm, precum leaking from him and combining with your spit. You run your hand over his head, pulling a sinful hiss from him as he finally pounces, strong hands grabbing a hold of your plush hips to steady himself.

You pick up the pace in response, Robby’s legs tensing beautifully as his breathing picks up, little pants and huffs escaping his lips in tandem with your movements.

“Baby—need to—fuck—”

He doesn’t get to beg as you feel him close, right on the precipice. And because you love the cleaning staff and wish them no harm ever, you drop to your knees in an instant, mouth opening and taking his tip against your tongue as he spills, hot and heavy, against the back of your throat.

He looks almost angelic as he cums. Groans filling the tiny room freely, hands tangling in your hair, not pushing or pulling, just there. Grounding, as if he can’t believe this is actually real and not some sick fantasy.

With one whole minute to spare, he finally catches his breath, his cock limping against your tongue as you run the muscle over his slit. To clean him up, obviously, not to watch him whine pathetically as the overstimulation makes him tense up.

That’s when he pulls, a sharp tug of your hair so that you stop. You beam up at him, placing a final kiss to his tip before you oblige and get back up to your feet.

He has no words for you, only answering with an unbelieving shake of the head as he massages your scalp while you tuck him back into his underwear and secure his pants with a neat little bow.

That’s when he kisses you.

Fuck.

You’re certain if his eyes were open he’d see your own bug out of your skull.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You don’t kiss him back, you can’t, you won’t, you—

Luckily he doesn’t linger, it’s just a soft peck, one that doesn’t evolve, doesn’t become greedy. It’s just…grateful. You fucking hate it.

He pulls back just as soon as it started, an uncharacteristically dopey smile on his face.

You roll your eyes. “Wipe that off or they’ll know something’s up.”

“Well, down now thanks to you.”

Your eyes widen in shock at his words, his carefree attitude something you’ve never seen from him before.

He chuckles at your reaction, unlocking the door and peeking his head out to check for witnesses before he steps out.

He winks back at you, a silent gesture to let you know the ball is in your court.

The second he’s gone you curl in on yourself.

Fuck.

It takes you a while to figure out how to proceed.

You’re past the halfway mark by now, just three more weeks and he’ll be getting ready to toss you to the curb. At least that’s what you’ve been told from multiple sources.

It turns out Robby’s got a trail of broken hearts longer than his…the point is, you know you have to keep him interested, throw him a bone every now and then, so you do.

You let him get comfortable again in your little after work routine, go out to dinner with him, let him cop a feel under the table, let him revel in the little marks he’s left on your neck and chest like badges of honor.

But he starts to get a little too comfortable, too regulated with your routine. So you shake things up every now and then. You feel so awful when you can’t see him, some shifts ending way earlier than his now that you’ve got him hooked on you. 

Which is why you compromise—

You: [sent a photo]

You know he’s losing his mind when he calls you in response exactly two minutes later.

“You know, I didn’t think so earlier, but you are definitely trying to kill me.”

You chuckle, a little seductive, definitely dismissive. “Is it working?”

He doesn’t answer with words, just a low, guttural groan that has you shifting under the covers.

“Doctor Robinavitch, are you touching yourself while on the phone with one of your employees?”

You just know his entire face and neck are beet red now. 

He moans in response. “Aren’t you?”

You giggle. “Would you like me to?”

“I would like for you to come over…” he pants, an opening.

You sigh, reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your vibrator, turning it on so that he can hear the humming on the other side of the line as your answer to that question.

He whines, a little dramatic for your liking but you’ll take it. After the shit he pulled in the storage closet, you’re definitely not going over anytime soon.

You insert the toy, body instantly erupting in goosebumps as you moan into your phone.

“See, I don’t understand why we even need men anymore,” you huff, airy and laced with pleasure. “Your dicks don’t even vibrate.”

He chuckles on the other end, amused by your…everything.

He’d never admit it, but he’s definitely never met anyone quite like you before, all spunk and no filter. It’s driving him crazy.

“Call me old fashioned all you want, but you’d forget all about your little toy if you had me inside of you.”

Fuck, you clench at his confidence, a moan escaping without your consent.

“See? Even the thought of my cock has you coming undone, baby.”

Cocky motherfucker.

“I bet I can make you cum without even touching you.”

He laughs then, unburdened for the first time in…

“You’re doing it right now.”

“No,” you whimper. “No stimulation…from either of us.”

“Now who’s cocky.”

The laugh that escapes you twists into a string of moans as your slick pushes the vibrator further into you, the bent tip notching perfectly against your g-spot.

“Robby I hate to cut this short but—”

“I got you, baby,” he groans, his own hand picking up the pace to catch up with you, the slick, desperate sounds only adding to your undoing.

“Fuck, please, Robby I need to cum.”

“Not yet.”

“Please, I don’t think I can hold it—”

“You can and you will.”

You wail, legs thrashing against your mattress as you clench your abdomen painfully. You focus on his pants, his moans, his peak, waiting impatiently as his breathing falters—

“Cum with me baby.”

It’s all the encouragement you need to let go, your release squirting out of you, pushing the toy out as it continues to vibrate. He hears it, the wetness of it all, and can’t help but beam as white, hot spurts land on his uncovered stomach.

“Fuck, Robby…” you mumble, taking your time as you come down from your high. Meanwhile, he’s still cumming, something that hasn’t happened to him since college. 

He doesn’t know what pushes him to do it, but after his dick has finally stopped twitching from his release and finally settles back comfortably against his leg, he grabs his phone off the bed and—

Robby: [sent a photo]

You blink at the sudden ding from your phone, a streak of tears falling down your cheeks as you open the attachment.

Your breathing hitches, saliva pooling in your mouth suddenly.

“Robby,” you whine.

He huffs back a laugh. “Show me your mess, baby.”

A fire burns inside of you, desperate to fight back against all these horrible feelings that have spawned inside of you. With shaky hands, you turn the call into a FaceTime, pointing the camera down to the puddle between your legs.

“Fuck!”

You giggle in response, giving him a few more seconds before you hang up entirely, slumping back on the mattress with a dramatic huff.

After that night on the phone, you know it’s driving him crazy that he can’t have you all the time, that you haven’t made yourself accessible to him. It’s also not like he’s asked, he just figured you’d…be like every desperate woman he’s successfully gotten into his bed and actively want to jump his bones at every second too.

So he’s become determined to get you to crumble for him.

You’re in a work call that has definitely gone far too long, peacefully enjoying your lunch as it drones on and on when there’s a light knock at your office door.

You’re muted, have been since the start so you don’t think twice about it when you mumble a half-hearted come in.

And that he fucking does.

He looks like a man possessed, chest heaving, hands shaking—

You’ve never seen him like this before, never heard of anyone describe an incident with him where he’s so…wound up.

It knocks you off your center, whatever resentment you’ve been holding over him evaporates at the sight of his puffy, red eyes.

You leap out of your seat without thinking.

“What do you need?” What the actual fuck?

You shake the thought away as he speaks.

“On your knees.”

You drop down instantly, wasting no time as you pull his cock free from the confines of his scrubs and boxers. He’s vibrating, his shaky energy only making you jumpy in return.

But he doesn’t care. He can’t care.

You take him into your mouth without any further command, quickly surrendering yourself to the adrenaline he needs to take care of, hollowing out your cheeks as his hands grab your hair into a loose ponytail and his hips start rocking into you.

He can feel your breath on his pubic bone as you concentrate on breathing through your nose, eyes already becoming glossy as he just…takes.

And you let him.

He could honestly cry, and he almost does, your round eyes turning to stare up at him with what can only be described as silent understanding shaking him to his core so much that his own eyes become watery.

But he doesn’t let them fall, no, he focuses on the pleasure, on the release that he’s chasing.

His movements are sloppy, not deep or thought out. He just wants to cum, wants for the tightness in his chest to lighten, wants for the ringing in his ears to—

And then you swipe your tongue over his tip as he pulls out, the pressure against his slit sending a spark through his body that cuts through the noise.

He whimpers, pulling you back onto him, as far as he can go, before he spills into your mouth. He shakes uncontrollably, ass clenching as he finally allows for the band to snap, for the tower to crumble, for the truth to settle in his gut.

He’s…grateful, completelyreverent and devoted.

His grip loosens from your hair and you take the opportunity to push yourself off his length, finally taking in big, all encompassing breaths as he comes down from his own high. You watch him then, like a little fawn, confused and curious, like something has unlocked in your heart and you’re unsure how to fix it.

And then he pulls you up, suddenly aware that he’s tucked himself into his pants, before he tugs you with him back to your desk. He sits down at your chair, grabbing you like you weigh nothing and cradling you against his chest.

He does’t say anything.

You don’t dare utter a single word.

He just runs his hands all over your body, soothing and thankful and…

Your eyes close then, your body melting into his own, the call long forgotten, probably ended as the room settles into a comfortable silence.

“Thank you baby,” he kisses your temple. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Your eyes snap open. Your heart races, an anxious bird slamming against its cage.

This is bad. You definitely bit off more than you could chew, and from what you just experienced, you can chew on a lot.

You stare up at him, at the blissful expression over his tired face, at the serenity that wafts off him like gentle waves crashing against the sand.

A new type of anger settles in your stomach. It is time to ruin his peace.

Robby’s never been this happy in his entire life.

He’s aware of his reputation, aware of just how much he’s messed up when it comes to his heart. It’s not like he’s magically a better person because of you now, that would be absurd. But he is enjoying himself. There’s no expectation, no restriction, nothing like the thrill of the chase, of mutual understanding and compassion, of finally having found his match.

And he’s never had to work this hard to earn it before.

But he can feel it, he’s getting closer, gaining ground, the turtle always winning in the end, right?

After that day in your office, Robby has become a man with unquenchable thirst.

He needs to have you, completely, devour you whole, a meditative meal where he gets to take his time and worship every inch of your body.

You’ve texted to tell him you unfortunately have plans tonight. A shame since he doesn’t have to work tomorrow and he was hoping he’d get to spend it with you, finally.

His thoughts have been stuck on you for the past few weeks, the prefect memories to lock onto as he finishes up his charts while he waits for Shen to arrive for handoff.

He’s startled when someone knocks on the desk in front of him, his brain snapping back into the unfortunate reality that doesn’t involve you spread out beneath him as he fucks into you repeatedly.

“I thought you weren’t working tonight—”

“Relax brother,” Jack calms his anxieties quickly. “I’m not here for that.”

Robby looks at him distrustingly. “Okay?”

Jack nods, mouth opening as if to say something while his face contorts into something Robby doesn’t quite understand. He’s…apologetic? Why would Jack be—?

“Hi,” your voice suddenly warms the entire ED as you skip towards them.

Robby can’t help it, his cheeks blushing a deep crimson, his mouth curling into a bashful smile. What the fuck have you reduced him to?

He opens his mouth to greet you, your entire existence a spotlight directed towards him, fading away the darkness completely.

But then you…walk right past him.

Towards Jack.

Towards his open arms.

What the fuck is going on?

Panic and confusion flood his body, fill his lungs up with water, actually stop his heart for one absurdly long, drawn out second, because he watches you get on your tip toes and kiss Jack Abbot on his absurdly smug lips, and Robby’s certain this is some kind of divine punishment—

“Hey sweetheart,” Jack mumbles lovingly against your mouth. “You ready to go?”

You nod, brushing your nose with his, nauseatingly adorable.

Robby’s certain he’s going to pass out, the entire room spinning.

What the fuck is going on? You’re…you’re with Jack when you’re supposed to be with Robby? Okay, maybe he never defined the relationship with you but that doesn’t mean—No! Who the fuck do you think you are? Are you cheating on Jack with him? Oh no, is he the other man? Did he just ruin his friendship—

“Goodnight, brother,” Jack can barely meet his gaze when he speaks. Oh fuck Robby’s life is ruined.

He’s certain he looks pale as all hell, guilt written all over his wrinkles, cold sweat definitely staining his clothes and dripping down his brow.

It’s then that you turn to look at him for the first time.

You look…perfectly fine. Smiling like you’ve just won the lottery. A deviant satisfaction sparkling in your eyes. Wait—

“Good night, doctor Robby!” You whisper, saccharine and sickly sweet. “It was fun getting to work with you, please give Noelle my best if you see her.”

And with one final, diabolical smile, it all just crashes against Robby, the angle of the mountain finally pushing the rock all the way back down, knocking him off his feet, exhausted and shocked, unable to do anything more than fall on one of the chairs and stare off into the distance.

You little—

“Fuck!” He hisses, loudly, enough for the entire ED to stop and stare at him for longer than he’d like to admit.

But what he doesn’t notice, what neither of them do, is the way your face drops as you walk out, guilt spreading through your chest for the first time at the sight of his sullen expression.

You turn back to look at him, at how he’s just this sad little man, bruised and broken. Your heart aches, something deep inside of you twisting and turning uncomfortably. You can’t…no, you definitely don’t…fuck.

You swallow the lump in the back of your throat thickly.

He’s learned his lesson, definitely…but at what cost…to you?

Bonus scene (happens after you accept to destroy Robby for Noelle):

It's a little after nine when you finally get called down to the ED for your first consult. It's someone you know, a case you've been assigned to for a while so it's easy and comfortable.

You chat up the patient and his mother, make sure to explain the process of care as diligently as you can with Shen, all in all, a swift and easy case.

And yet, before you slink back upstairs to your little office, you linger.

Ugh, you hate it, it's gross honestly, your stomach twisting in both annoyance and indignation at how much of a hypocrite you've become.

But then you see him, coming out of a patient's room, his gaze already on yours as he cleans his hands with disinfectant and crosses the room to greet you.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Jack teases, the motherfucker able to read you with an ease that sends a shiver down your spine.

"I need to ask for a favor," you murmur, suddenly feeling a little childish about what you're about to say. 

His eyebrow quirks in giddy expectation, easing whatever apprehension you've been feeling. Right, it's Jack for fuck's sake. If anyone's gonna understand your borderline sociopathic tendencies, it's him.

"I'm gonna do something silly, and I need you to promise me that you won't hate me for it."

He straightens his posture, hands clasped behind his back, looking down at you like he's trying to hold himself back from pouncing.

He has no right to be this fucking sexy.

"This about Robby and Noelle?"

You grin devilishly. God, he just gets you.

You manage a nod, biting down on your bottom lip to stop your smile from growing even bigger.

He sighs in response, not judgmental or disappointed, more so...absolutely fucking terrified for his friend.

"Please be gentle with him."

You scoff in mock offense. "He lost the privilege when he broke up with her via text."

"What?" His sharpness snaps the attention of the entire ED towards you. You shake your head for them, calming whatever outburst you think is being directed at you. It's only when the normal shuffle returns to the room that Jack continues. "Oh boy...yeah, can't help him there."

You shrug, leaning just a tiny bit forward. "I'll make it up to you when I'm done, I promise."

He smirks brightly, desperately fighting the urge to lean down and capture your lips with his.

"You better, pretty girl," he groans, low and deep. "And don't you even think about putting out for him.”

Your eyes widen. Oh.

"Can I..." you stumble then, cheeks burning hot, throat suddenly dry. "I'm gonna have to—just hand stuff, I promise."

Jack chuckles loudly. Jesus fucking Christ, this is definitely not where Jack expected his night to go but this is easily the best thing that could’ve ever happened to him. Watching you get so flustered, requesting such a…ridiculous thing from him—

He’s desperately fighting the raging erection threatening to tent his scrubs.

"No sex, no kissing," Jack states, eerily stern and possessive, basically drenching your panties with his tone because two can play at that game. "Hand stuff is fine, and just because I'm feeling generous, I'll let him get a taste of you and be haunted by your perfect mouth. Deal?"

He holds out his hand, pinky up for you to thread your own with his.

You're practically panting. "Fuck I love you."

He smiles dizzyingly in return, his heart close to popping from all the blood pumping through it.

"I love you too, crazy."

You interlock your finger with his, a matching mischievous look shared, powerful enough for everyone to act dumb at your obvious insanity, the night shift already used to the both of you being this intense all the time.

He steps back first, body buzzing with excitement. "Go, have fun ruining my best friend's life," he chuckles. "But I'm taking you home with me tomorrow morning."

You beam. “Yes, sir.”

a/n: if this gets a part two, it will devolve into Rabbot insanity just so you know. it’s honestly giving brat4brat and jack having to come in to dom the hell out of both of them