julian alexander (jay)

Y/N could safely declare that none of the men she’d gone out with in the past even came close to measuring up to Robby. He’s punctual to the millisecond, an overflowing river of compliments, and she hasn’t touched a single door handle when they’re together since they started dating. Perhaps it was the increase in age from her previous partners, perhaps it was just her finally finding the right guy, but either way, she’d been gifted a real gentleman and she had no intentions of regifting him anytime soon.

And therein lies the problem; Robby was a little too gentlemanly, and it was starting to drive her crazy. In the nearly six months they’d been together, the farthest they’d gone was making out on one or the other’s couch like horny teenagers, because Robby would always stop before things could escalate, claiming he wanted to respect her.

Not that Y/N was fully complaining, because Robby’s an EXCELLENT kisser and has had her melting into a puddle in his lap and underneath him on multiple occasions. But she wanted more than fevered kisses and over-the-clothes touches, and while she certainly appreciated him being respectful, she could see in his eyes that he craved her, and she wanted to be disrespected. In the bedroom, anyway.

She told the girls (plus Dennis) this when she was a couple glasses of rosé deep during Girls’ Night at Trinity and Dennis’ place, and all of them were shocked. Trinity nearly choked on her margarita and said, “Wait, you’re saying that you and Robby have been going out for almost half a year, and haven’t boned even ONCE?!?!”, while leaning against the back of the couch, which made Y/N cringe at her choice of phrasing.

She said, “I hate the wording of that and would prefer literally any other colloquialism, but no, we haven’t had sex yet. He always stops right at second base. Says he wants to ‘be respectful’,” using finger quotations and pitching her voice down as low as she physically could to mimic Robby’s gravelly tone to the best of her ability before taking another sip of wine, an eye roll punctuating her statement.

Dennis offered Y/N the big bag of pretzels from his spot on the floor in front of her. “At least he respects you. Can’t say that about most guys our age. Maybe he’s trying to be mindful of your age gap and power dynamic,” he suggested, trying to play Devil’s Advocate, and was met with murmurs of reluctant agreement from Victoria, Mel, and Samira. 

Trinity scoffed, “Oh, whatever, Huckleberry. I’ve seen the way he looks at her from across the ED. If that man doesn’t want to eat her alive, I’ll eat my stethoscope,” and chugged the rest of her drink to make her point.

Samira swirled her vodka cran in her cup where she sat cross-legged in front of the ottoman and added, “Yeah, I have to agree with Trin here. Jack was the same way before we started sleeping together. He wanted to be respectful of the age gap and the attending-resident thing and all that shit, but once the dam broke, he–” 

“Railed you into the next millennium and hasn’t stopped since?” Trinity cut her off, making Victoria let out a squeak of disbelief into her Dirty Shirley and Mel turn bright red behind her can of ginger ale.

Y/N cackled out loud, and Dennis murmured, “Jesus, Trinity…” into his Monster can. 

Samira nodded in resignation. “Yes, that. But I had to really lay it on thick to get it through his head that I didn’t care about any of that. It probably helped speed things along when I wore that red dress to the bar,” she added, taking a sip of her drink to hide her smirk.

“Oh, the mesh one?! Yeah, I’m surprised he held it together long enough to get you out of there. I thought he was gonna traumatize some poor bar patron just trying to use the bathroom,” Trinity chuckled, making Y/N cackle harder at the memory of Jack’s face when he first clapped eyes on Samira in that dress, and how quickly he proceeded to nearly throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to get her out of the bar. 

Mel quietly said, “I just told Frank I wanted to have sex, and that was that,” which made everyone’s head whip over to her as she casually sipped from her can with a shrug.

Y/N rolled her eyes and said, “Well, Frank is just like that. He needs to be led directly to what you want, he can’t clock a subtle hint worth any type of damn. I’m allowed to say that, he’s like my brother. It’s why you two work so much better together than he and Abby did, she was always trying to do those mind game things on him and then get mad when he couldn’t figure it out. He can’t comprehend indirectness, and she never understood that,” chugging her wine to wash the bitter taste of the words from her mouth.

Mel nodded. “That makes sense. But like Samira said, you might have to lay it on a lot thicker for Robby than you have been. Him and Abbot are weirdly very alike, so you may have to take a similar path to show Robby you want more than just making out, even if you still like the making out. Wait… do you?”she asked, making Y/N throw her head back with a groan. 

“Holy shit, yes! My brain practically melts out of my ears every time! But I can’t help but wonder how mindblowing actually having sex with him would be if just making out with him leaves me dumber than a brick.”

Victoria drummed her fingers on the coffee table, and asked Y/N, “What were you gonna wear to the next bar outing?”

“My floral halter top and jeans probably, why?”

Victoria shakes her head with a wrinkled nose. “Nope, not gonna cut it, we need to take you shopping. If you want Robby to get his head out of his ass and finally crack you like a walnut, you need something that’ll knock him on his ass first.”

Trinity let out a pleased hoot. “Damn, Crash, didn’t think you had those vocab words in you! But yeah, we need to make you look so hot that Robby won’t be able to ignore how badly he wants you anymore.”

The others nodded their assent, Y/N shrank into herself a little bit. “Are you sure I can’t just spell it out for him?”

Samira leaned forward in her seat and said, “Angel, at this point, I think you have to show him exactly what he could have been getting his hands on this whole time.”

Mel said, “Have you tried telling him before?”, and Y/N nodded sheepishly as she realized what was being insinuated: if telling Robby she wanted to have sex hadn’t worked before, it probably wouldn’t start working now.

Mel patted her thigh matter-of-factly. “Well, I guess that settles it. Next girls’ night is a shopping trip!”, earning joyous whoops from the gathered ladies (and Dennis).

Once the all-important shopping trip had occurred and Y/N found herself in possession of a dress that could barely be called that, Trinity’s plan (which had been dubbed “Operation Get Angel Laid”) was put into action.

Step 1: Make sure Robby was planning on attending the next Pitt group outing to the bar. Easy enough, considering all Y/N had to do to convince him to go was smile at him and ask him nicely (Victoria says he’s “down horrendous” for her, and she isn’t wrong).

Step 2: Insist on getting ready with her friends at Trinity and Dennis’ and carpooling to the bar to keep The Dress™ a surprise. Also easy, because Robby was well aware that Y/N loved the ritual of getting ready for a night out with friends and would be an utter fool to try and convince her otherwise, so he was perfectly happy to meet her there.

When it came time for Step 3 (Walk into the bar and make her boyfriend’s brain melt out through his ears), Y/N found herself suddenly very self-conscious of what she was wearing, but with the combined power of Trinity’s gentle egging on (and another glimpse at Robby’s text of “See you soon, Angel”), she gathered her courage and walked through the front door of the bar like she owned the place.

Meanwhile, Robby was sitting at the bar with Jack and nursing a bourbon on the rocks while he waited for Y/N and the others to arrive. Jack said, “I’m just saying, brother. The way she looks at you is nothing short of ravenous. How have you not given her what she clearly wants yet?”, which made Robby’s face scrunch up in resignation and embarrassment before he said, “It’s… complicated,” while staring into his glass.

Jack stared at him incredulously, and was about to give a snarky retort, but then his eyes landed on the door and who was among the group of people walking in. Instead he let out a whistle and murmured, “Brother, you are absolutely fucked,” with a shit eating grin on his face, making Robby wrinkle his eyebrows at him in confusion.

He turned around to see what he was looking at while saying, “What are you talking ab-...?”, but the words died on his tongue when he saw Y/N, because he was, in fact, absolutely fucked. Her hair was pulled into an elegant french twist, her makeup was done to perfection (no doubt Trinity’s handiwork), and once he processed what she was wearing, he almost fell off his barstool.

A black mini dress with a silk skirt hugged her hips and upper thighs, then the rest was made of sheer mesh save for a built-in bandeau made of the same fabric as the skirt so as to not reveal her breasts to everyone in the bar, yet he could still see the upper swells and a generous amount of cleavage.

A black leather jacket hung over her arm and strappy black stilettos adorned her feet, and he was sure he turned beet red when she turned around to do a head count and he saw that the back of the dress was equally as sheer as the front.

Jack clocked Robby’s reaction almost instantly, and he quipped, “Godspeed, Robinavitch,” before clapping him on the shoulder and walking over to Samira, who smiled and kissed his cheek before following him back over to a booth near the bar.

She murmured, “Don’t look now, but somebody has brain matter leaking onto the ground,” as she passed Y/N with a wink. Y/N’s ears heated up at the comment, but she kept her composure as she purposefully avoided looking in Robby’s direction, even though she could feel his eyes on her.

Trinity managed to turn her gleeful cackle into a mischievous giggle, and she said, “Oh, that is the face of a man whose brain is currently in a puddle on the floor. Go get him, Angel,” before gently nudging her in Robby’s direction.

Y/N schooled her face into a neutral expression, then turned her head and pretended like she just saw him (and that she didn’t notice that he looked like he wanted to devour her). She almost faltered in her nonchalant manner when she looked at him, though, because he looked good enough to eat. 

He was wearing a waffle knit Henley in a shade of navy blue so deep it was almost black with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows and the buttons undone to reveal a peak of chest hair and the chain of his Star of David, dark jeans, and logger boots, his hair artfully messy the way he knows drives her bonkers. Y/N steeled herself before she beamed at him, then strode over to him like the picture of casual confidence, draping her jacket and purse over the barstool next to him once she’d reached him.

She said, “Hi, Robby,” and pressed a quick but enthusiastic kiss to his cheek like she was blissfully unaware that he was practically losing his mind.

Robby smiled at her and said, “Hey, Angel. You look… wow,” which made her giggle and say, “Do I?”, before giving him a playful twirl.

He let out a low appreciative whistle as he took her in up close, then said, “Oh, yeah. Wow,” before he pulled her onto his lap, securing her with an arm around her waist.

Y/N smiled innocently and said, “I was kinda nervous about wearing it. Trinity talked me into getting it when we went shopping with the girls and Dennis the other day, but I’ve never worn anything like this before. You’re sure I look okay?”, flashing her doe eyes at him like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.

Robby licked his lips, then said, “I’m positive, Angel. You look gorgeous,” kissing her cheek and purposefully rubbing his beard against her skin to make her squeal and thump his chest.

Y/N lavished in Robby’s hands and his undivided attention on her for a while, then came time for Step 4: Ignore him and see how long it takes him to crack under the pressure. “Maneater” by Nelly Furtado came on over the speakers, so she quickly scrambled off of Robby’s lap with a delighted shriek and called, “Mira! Trin! Mel! Come dance with me!”, as she made her way over to the makeshift dance floor.

Samira and Mel promptly abandoned Jack and Frank respectively, and Trinity joined them from the other end of the bar where she’d been trying and failing to convince Dennis and Victoria to do shots with her.

Robby kept his eyes on Y/N the whole time she was dancing, taking long sips of his bourbon that had long since gone warm and quietly fuming whenever he saw another man’s eyes linger on her for a tad too long. Y/N, on the other hand, was having a grand old time dancing with her friends, especially since Trinity kept updating her on how Robby’s demeanor was shifting every few minutes and assuring her it wouldn’t be long before he was hauling her out of there to finally have his way with her.

Y/N took a break from dancing to get a drink, and instead of returning to where Robby was keeping his vigil over her, she just walked up to the section of the bar closest to her to flag down a bartender, and Robby would’ve been a dirty liar if he said his jaw hadn’t clenched or his grip didn’t tighten on his now fully empty glass.

Jack and Frank had wandered over to him by that point to watch over their respective ladies as well. Frank said, “Looking a little heated there, Boss. You okay?”, but Robby didn’t respond, too busy trying to telepathically explode the male bartender Y/N was chatting with as he made her drink.

Frank followed his eyeline, and when he realized what he was looking at, he said, “Ohhhhh, okay. She’s playing Hard To Get,” making Jack smother a chortle in his Old Fashioned and Robby say, “What?!”, as he turned around to look at him.

Frank said, “Just because I can’t tell when a woman’s doing it to me doesn’t mean I can’t clock when it’s happening to someone else. Think about it, Robby. She showed up in that half-assed excuse of a dress, let you get handsy with her for maybe ten minutes, and now she’s been ignoring you for, what, the last half hour? She wants you bad, and she’s waiting for you to do something about it.”

He took a sip from his bottle of Iron City and raised his eyebrows pointedly at Robby, who glared at him and said, “And what makes you say that?”

Frank shrugged again and said, “Mel gets a little gossipy when she’s had one too many lemon drops. She mentioned that Angel was complaining about you being a prude and not trying to get into her pants at their last girls night, despite you two being a thing for almost six months. Clearly she’s trying to take matters into her own hands since you’ve been too chicken shit to make a move,” making Jack actually bark out a laugh and lean against the bar for support.

Robby grumbled something incoherent about mutiny, then Frank said, “Look, all I’m saying is that you clearly want her, and she definitely wants you. I see it in the way she looks at you that whatever you guys have been doing isn’t cutting it for her anymore. So man up and give her what she wants, or I’m never gonna hear the end of it,” then clapped him on the shoulder and strode over to Mel, who let out a drunken squeal of joy and threw her arms around him when he offered her his hand for a dance.

Jack smirked, then said, “You heard the man, brother. Give Angel what she wants,” and wandered off to find Samira, leaving Robby to sit on the information handed to him on a silver platter: Y/N actually wanted him, and he’d been practically dangling himself in front of her like a carrot on a stick while trying to protect himself in the process. The thought hit him so hard it took everything in him not to bang his head against the bar top.

He thought he’d been keeping his pride intact by denying her advances, because he still couldn’t wrap his head around someone as brilliant and vivacious as her wanting to be romantically involved with a broken old man like him, let alone be intimate with him. Sure, he always made the lame excuse of how he respected her too much when she tried to push the envelope (and he did respect her quite a bit, though that's besides the point), but secretly, he was worried she’d see all of him and decide he wasn’t worth it. Now that he knew Y/N wasn’t just talk, Robby decided enough was enough. His Angel was going to get everything she wanted and more.

Another man who looked closer to Y/N’s age had sidled up next to her at the bar, and Robby could tell based on her body language that she was being polite but would have rathered if the stranger wasn’t talking to her. He stood up from his stool, threw a handful of bills on the bar, then stalked over to the two of them like a man on a mission (much to Trinity’s delight, as she proceeded to smack Dennis on the arm until he too was watching the show).

Y/N was politely avoiding the stranger’s (Tom? John? She didn’t really know or care) advances and keeping her replies as monosyllabic as she possibly could when his sleazy grin dropped off his face and he went slightly pale while looking at something (or rather someone) taller than her. She barely had time to react before a familiar pair of arms were snaking possessively around her waist and the unmistakable combination of bourbon and woodsy aftershave flooded her senses, and she couldn’t help but smile as she melted into the embrace.

Robby murmured, “Hey, Angel. Missed you,” and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his thumb rubbing a line over the mesh covering her stomach.

Y/N giggled to herself, then said, “It hasn’t even been an hour yet,” while craning her neck up to look at him, amusement all over her face. 

He smirked and said, “Tell me about it,” before leaning down and capturing her lips with his in a slow kiss, a hand coming up to cradle her jaw. Y/N sighed happily against his mouth, and turned around to press her chest against his and rake her nails across his scalp, causing a low groan to escape him that she swallowed greedily.

They broke apart to catch their breath and found the random man had graciously removed himself from the equation, so Y/N said, “Any reason in particular you felt the need to mack on me out in the open like that?”, with a teasing eyebrow raised.

Robby quirked an eyebrow right back at her and said, “What, a guy can’t bestow affection upon his gorgeous girlfriend in public anymore?”, a hand wandering down to squeeze her ass as a smirk spread across his lips.

Y/N bit her lip in thought, then looked up through her lashes at Robby. “Would you dance with me, Mikey? Just one song, pretty please?”

He let out a playfully resigned sigh. “Now, how could I ever say no to you when you look at me like that, Angel?”, a fond smile creeping onto his face.

Y/N squealed happily, then pulled him over to the dance floor just as “Need to Know” by Doja Cat started to play, much louder than any of the previous songs. Y/N shot a quick look over at the booth where Trinity, Dennis, and Victoria were sitting, and all she received in return was Trinity holding up her phone with a shit eating grin, a snap finger gun from Dennis, and a double thumbs up from Victoria.

That’s when she noticed the TouchTunes on the wall near the bar, and all the pieces clicked together. Robby didn’t notice, so Y/N just pulled him against her and started swaying her hips to the beat of the music. His hands found a resting place right above her ass, and he could practically feel the heat coming off of her through the sheer fabric of her dress.

Robby cleared his throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard this song,” which made Y/N grin seductively.

She said, “Really? It’s one of my favorites,” as she continued dancing and singing along to the explicit lyrics.

Robby would have been deeply in denial if he couldn’t feel himself getting harder with every swing of Y/N’s hips and every dirty word leaving her mouth, so he just held her tighter and tried his damndest to keep it together.

When the bridge of the song arrived, Y/N turned around so her ass was flush against his groin and continued grinding her hips, making him stifle a groan as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his large, calloused hands gripping her tighter like she’d disappear in a puff of smoke if he let go. She snuck a hand back to scratch her nails over the base of his neck, and he let out a growl right in her ear as she sang out:

“Tryna see if you could handle this ass

Prolly give his ass a panic attack.

Sorry if I gave a random erection,

Prolly thinkin' I'm a telekinetic

Oh, wait, you a fan of the magic?

Poof, pussy like an Alakazam

I heard from a friend of a friend

That that dick was a ten out of ten!”

Robby could feel the logical parts of his brain shutting down and the feral, possessive gremlin he kept locked away clawing its way to the surface as he held her against his raging boner, attaching his lips to her pulse point just so he had something to do with his mouth. He ground his hips to meet hers, and her singing faltered slightly at the feeling of the bulge in his pants nudging against her ass, a barely perceptible gasp escaping her lips.

The song drew to a close, and a random top 40 song came on right after, but neither of them paid it any attention. Y/N turned back around to face Robby and murmured breathlessly, “Have I ever told you how much I love it when you wear waffle shirts?”, while running her hands up his arms teasingly.

Robby took a deep breath. “Do you, now?”

Y/N nodded and said, “Mmmhmm. You look so cozy. But also edible,” before leaning in and playfully nipping at his bicep.

Robby jumped slightly, then chuckled darkly and said, “Angel…,” in a warning tone, but Y/N ignored him and proceeded to leave a trail of nibbles up his arm to his neck and jaw, then capped it off by biting his bottom lip before pressing a searing kiss to his mouth. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as he kissed her back, and he gripped her hips so tight she could feel him everywhere, a spike of pride surging through her at how much she was affecting him.

Just when she tried to slip her tongue into his mouth, Robby pulled away. She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout and whined, “Mikey…,” but her protestations died when she saw that his pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked black in the dim light of the bar.

He growled into her ear, “Go grab your shit, I’m taking you home,” and Y/N couldn’t help the simultaneous rush of giddiness and lust that washed through her as she scampered over to the bar to snatch her jacket and purse off the barstool where she left them.

She caught the eye of her friends as she trotted back over to Robby, and all of them were exchanging high fives and shooting her encouraging grins and hand gestures, Trinity the most excited of all of them. She swore she saw Jack handing a wad of bills to Frank, but she chose not to dwell on that as she took Robby’s outstretched hand and he practically dragged her out the door of the bar and to his car (Step 4, check).

The whole ride back to his place, Robby’s hand never left Y/N’s inner thigh, rubbing teasing circles against the soft skin there and driving her insane with need. Not a moment after they pulled into his driveway and Robby had killed the engine, Y/N pounced on him and pressed her lips to every bit of exposed skin she could reach before connecting with him in a hungry kiss.

Robby groaned into her mouth, and the sound went straight to her core as she let out a whimper and held him tighter. He managed to pull away long enough to say, “I’m done being respectful, Angel,” then dove right back in and slipped his tongue along the seam of her lips.

Y/N let him in without hesitation, and his hand came up to cup her jaw while hers buried themselves in his hair almost of their own volition. Robby murmured between kisses, “You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N.”

She replied coyly, “I think I have an idea,” as a hand slid down to palm him over his jeans.

A true blue moan escaped him, and he grabbed her hand to halt her ministrations before saying, “Inside. Now,” and getting out of the car.

Y/N scrambled to get out of her seat, and when she went to open her door, Robby was already there. He grabbed her hand, and the two of them bolted to his front door like a pair of mischievous schoolchildren, Y/N giggling her head off the whole way.

Robby connected his lips with hers again, then pressed her against the solid wood of the door, making her moan into the kiss when he slotted one of his thighs between her legs. She managed to pull away long enough to whisper, “Dr. Robinavitch, unless you’re bent on committing a public indecency violation, I’d suggest we go inside before this goes any further,” against his lips, a ghost of a laugh escaping her as she did.

Robby rested his forehead against hers and said, “You might have a point there,” before releasing her from his grasp and unlocking his front door, tugging her inside once he’d gotten it open.

Y/N let out a squeal of laughter only to have it smothered by his lips on hers once more, making her hum happily against his mouth as she cradled his face in her hands.

Robby broke away to toss his keys and wallet into the bowl he kept by the front door while kicking off his boots, and Y/N flung her jacket and purse haphazardly to the side just in time to be gently dragged to Robby’s bedroom by the man in question. He backed her up against the foot of his bed, and started trailing kisses from her lips down to her neck while murmuring, “You knew exactly what you were doing showing up to the bar in this flimsy excuse of a dress, didn’t you?”, between each press of his lips to her skin.

Y/N laughed breathlessly and replied, “Only bought it so you could take it off, Doc,” a rush of want jolting through her when Robby growled into her neck and turned her around so her back was facing him.

He started to pull down the zipper of her dress, but he only got it halfway down her back before she turned back around and said, “You’ve been actively denying me this for months, Robinavitch. I get to have my fun first, then it’ll be your turn. Okay?”

Robby stared at her with a shocked look on his face, but when she just raised an eyebrow at him, he relented and said, “Yes, ma’am,” morbidly curious as to what she had in mind.

She ran a finger up his arm and said, “As delicious as you look in this shirt, it needs to go. Like… now,” which made Robby freeze, and Y/N could see the anxiety on his face even in the dim light of the bedroom.

She stepped closer. “Mikey… let me show you how badly I’ve wanted this. Please?”, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek affectionately.

Robby melted into her touch, and he nodded before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side, leaving his upper half bare before her. Y/N’s eyes widened, and she halted in unbuckling her heels to say, “Mikey, you’re so pretty,” as she ran her hands up his chest.

The tips of his ears turned red before he mumbled, “You don’t have to lie to me, Angel. I know I’m not in my prime anymore,” and scratched the back of his head while avoiding eye contact with her.

Y/N’s heart squeezed a little at his self-deprecation, and she shook her head. “I don’t lie about things like that, Michael. Come here,” then patted the comforter.

Robby hesitated, but one look into Y/N’s adoring eyes had him folding almost instantly, and he did as she asked, sitting up against the headboard and waiting to see what she’d do next.

Y/N finished removing her shoes, crawled up the bed until she was straddling him, then she held his face in her hands like she was holding her entire world (she was) before looking him directly in the eyes. “Michael Robinavitch, you are so pretty that it physically hurts sometimes. Every freckle, every scar, every curve, every square inch that makes you who you are is absolutely beautiful to me,” her thumb stroking the salt and pepper strands of his beard absently as she spoke.

Robby’s ears turned pink again at her words, and he brought his hands up to rest on her waist, just to convince himself she was really there and not a figment of his imagination. He cleared his throat and said, “Really?”

“Really.”

She nodded before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead. A smile came to his face in spite of the tears welling up in his eyes, and he said, “I feel the same way about you, Angel,” which made her smile back before planting another kiss on the tip of his nose.

Y/N proceeded to trail kisses from his cheek down to his neck, where she started nipping and sucking at his skin as she went lower and lower down his body, delighting in the little grunts and moans she elicited from him whenever she applied a little too much pressure. She made her way down his deliciously hairy chest after coaxing him to lay down fully, leaving a trail of bite marks and hickeys in her wake until she got to his soft belly, feeling almost a little too self-satisfied at the obvious bulge in his pants.

She said, “Yeah? Do you like it when I leave my mark on you, Dr. Robinavitch? Want everybody to see just how much I want you? See how pretty I think you are?”, between kisses before scraping her teeth along his happy trail, which made him moan and throw his head back into the pillows.

Robby groaned out, “Angel, you’re gonna be the death of me,” which made her grin like the cat that got the canary.

“Maybe later. You’ve still got some work to do.”

His head snapped back up at the sound of her undoing his belt buckle, and she said, “Do you believe me now when I say I think every part of you is beautiful?”, with an eyebrow raised.

Robby said, “I do, Y/N. I’m sorry for not letting you show me sooner,” his hands fisting the comforter in anticipation.

Y/N smirked, then said, “Then my work here is done. I’ve had my fun. Your turn,” before pulling the french pin from her hair and letting it tumble free.

She sat back on the balls of her feet, then handed the pin to Robby, who took the silent hint and carefully set it on the bedside table. She said, “Care to do the honors, Doc?”, while turning around to present the half-undone zipper of her dress to him like an offering.

Robby chuckled darkly, then said, “It would be my genuine pleasure, Angel,” before sitting up and kneeling behind her, running his hands up her barely concealed back.

He pulled the zipper down the rest of the way, then laid her down on the bed, and Y/N let Robby slide the dress off of her and toss it onto the floor. She giggled when his eyes practically popped out of his head once he saw that the only thing she was wearing underneath it was a pair of lacy black panties, and she joked, “See something you like?”

Robby rasped out, “Oh, yeah. Seeing a lot of things I like,” before settling himself over her and pressing a kiss to her lips, making her sigh against his mouth and run her hands over his shoulders tenderly.

He kissed his way down her body (spending a little extra time on her breasts, of course) until he reached the hem of her (admittedly, completely soaked) panties, and he looked up at her with his dark brown baby cow eyes almost pleadingly.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she said, “I said it was your turn, didn’t I?”, making him groan gratefully before sliding the garment down her legs and flinging it over his shoulder to potentially join her dress and his shirt on the floor. Robby pressed a kiss to each of her thighs, then proceeded to bury himself in her core and devour her like she was his last meal on Death Row.

Y/N let out a debauched moan and buried her hands in his hair while whining, “Holy fuck, Mikey!”, which made him grunt against her and tug her legs to rest over his shoulders so he could get even deeper, adding his first two fingers into the mix as well.

For a time, the only sounds that filled the bedroom were Y/N’s breathless moans and the squelching of Robby’s fingers and tongue working at her center, with the occasional groan of delight from Robby whenever Y/N tugged at his hair a little too hard.

The combination of his diligent ministrations and the scratch of his beard against her skin had the telltale wave of pleasure building inside of her in no time, and she whimpered out, “Mikey, I’m so close, holy shit!”, while clawing at his scalp with her nails.

Robby let out a grunt of pain into her core, and he rasped out, “Yeah, can feel you squeezing my fingers, Angel. Take what you need, Gorgeous,” before wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking.

Y/N fell over the edge into oblivion with a wordless cry, gripping Robby’s hair so tight she might as well have been trying to rip it out, but that only spurred him on as he worked her through the aftershocks. He ran his hands up and down her shaking legs while murmuring, “So sweet, Angel. Did such a good job for me, Honey. I can’t believe I made you wait this long for me to make you feel good. I’m a huge fuckin idiot, and I’m so sorry, my gorgeous girl,” making her whine at the praise and clench around nothing.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Robby, and a downright wicked smirk spread across his face before he said, “Oh, you like that, don’t you? You like it when I tell you how good you are, huh?”, then sucked his fingers clean of her release while making direct eye contact with her.

Y/N moaned at the sight, then said, “Mikey, need you inside me. Please?”, running a hand through his hair and shooting him the best puppy dog pout she could muster after the earth-shattering orgasm she’d just had.

Robby smirked up at her from his position between her thighs and said, “I’m all yours, Angel,” before pressing one last kiss to her mons and getting off the bed to remove his pants and boxers.

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows to watch him, and she tilted her head slightly as a pleased smile played across her lips. Robby looked up from tossing his belt aside to catch her staring at him with a mix of tenderness and hunger in her eyes, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

His skin flushed under her gaze, and he joked, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Y/N hummed contemplatively. “Nah. I prefer to live in the moment,” still not taking her eyes off of him.

He took a second to drink her in, and as he beheld the absolute wonder of a woman splayed out on his bed looking like she came straight out of a renaissance painting, he was struck by how incredibly lucky he was to be the only person who got to see her like that: completely undone by him and him alone.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow at his lapse in movement. “What, need to take a breather, Old Man?”

Robby chuckled with a shake of his head. “No, just… thinking about how gorgeous you are and how badly I want you,” Y/N’s cheeks going slightly pink at his words.

She recovered quickly, then she crooked her finger at him. “You better get to work then, Doc,” a wicked gleam in her eye as she bit her lip teasingly.

Robby’s eyes darkened, and he rumbled, “Yes, ma’am,” before shoving his jeans and boxers to the ground in one motion, letting his cock spring free from its confines. Y/N’s eyes widened, and he could have sworn she licked her lips, which made him smirk before he pulled his socks off and crawled up the bed to her.

He settled himself above her, then nuzzled his nose against hers. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi to you too, Michael,” she giggled back while bringing her hands up to cup his face, her thumbs absently tracing the crow’s feet by his eyes that appeared as he smiled down at her.

A lovesick expression spread across her face, and he felt something loosen in his chest at the sight of her looking at him like he was the only thing that really mattered. Robby felt like he’d been hit upside the head with a cast iron skillet, and he’s sure it showed on his face because Y/N’s eyebrows wrinkled in concern.

Before she could say anything, he blurted out, “Holy fucking shit, I love you,” instant regret flooding through him when she froze underneath him and her eyes grew to the size of saucers.

He opened his mouth to try and do damage control, but Y/N just tugged his face down to hers and captured his mouth in a searing kiss, letting what he’d said fuel her every move until he melted against her and kissed her back. She broke away to catch her breath, and she whispered breathlessly, “I love you, too,” a delighted giggle bubbling up in her throat as she stroked his cheeks with her thumbs.

Robby grinned and said, “Yeah?”, his voice breaking slightly as tears once again worked their way into his eyes. Y/N nodded happily and replied, “Yeah,” tears of her own welling up as she brought him back down for another kiss, unable to stop a happy little squeak from escaping.

Robby chuckled against her mouth, then pulled away to murmur, “Can I show you just how much I love you, Angel?”, as a hand snuck down to tease at her folds.

Y/N let out a whimper at the touch, then wrapped a leg around his waist to keep him right where she wanted him and said, “Yes, please!”

Robby let out a grateful groan, then lined up his painfully hard member with her center, and just the head breaching her entrance had her gasping in pleasured pain and clawing at his shoulders.

He grunted at the sting, then said, “It’s a little big, I know. I did my best to stretch you out, but you’re gonna have to breathe me in, okay?”, making her nod and take a deep breath as he slowly pushed inside of her until he was fully seated inside of her, both of them letting out euphoric moans at the feeling of finally being together.

Y/N squeaked out, “Big. Fuck!”, the power of cognitive thought completely leaving her body as she focused on not instantly falling apart now that Robby was finally balls deep in her like she’d been craving for months. Robby gritted out, “Fuck, Angel, you’re so tight! Going insane here, Gorgeous,” and Y/N could only keen in response.

They stayed as still as possible for a few moments so their pleasure wouldn’t overtake them too soon, then Y/N whimpered, “Dr. Robby, need you to fuck me. Please?”, and all thoughts flew out of Robby’s head at the sound of her using his title while she begged him.

He let out a low groan that she felt in her toes, then said, “Yeah? Need me to make you feel good, Dr. L/N?”, smirking when she moaned and nodded frantically in response.

Robby rasped out, “Use your words like a good girl,” struggling to keep it together, but Y/N didn’t notice and simply whined, “Please fuck me, Dr. Robby.”

Her legs tightened around his waist and her heels dug into the base of his spine, the action making her clench around him involuntarily. He buried his face in her neck and growled, “Good girl,” before starting to thrust into her.

Y/N let out a pathetic whimper and clawed at his back, eliciting a delicious grunt of pain from Robby as he gripped her tighter and snapped his hips against hers, latching onto her pulse point for the sole purpose of leaving a mark on her just like she’d done to him.

Robby husked into her skin, “Doing so good for me, Angel. Never gonna make you wait that long to feel my cock in this tight little pussy ever again, I promise, holy fuck!”

“So full, Mikey, god! Never gonna be able to use a toy again without wishing it was you, shit!”, Y/N whispered back, scratching at the back of his head in blind pleasure.

Another primal growl escaped him as he crashed his lips to hers in a desperate kiss, the sounds of skin on skin, two pairs of lips moving in feverish tandem, and the creak of the bed filling the room like a depraved symphony. Robby grunted out, “Keep squeezing me just like that, Angel. That’s my good girl,” and brought a hand down to rub tiny circles against Y/N’s clit.

The familiar knot in her belly started tightening again at the overstimulation, and she yelped, “Fuck! Mikey, I’m so close!”

“I can feel it, Honey. You’re doing so good, I’m right behind ya.” He drilled into her like his life depended on it, his rhythm faltering slightly with his impending orgasm.

Robby grunted out, “Fuck, I’m gonna come! Gonna let me fill you up, Angel?”, and Y/N could barely get out an, “Mmmhmm!”, as the pressure inside of her kept building and building.

Robby said, “Fall apart for me, Gorgeous. Need to feel you come on my cock, okay? I love you so much, Angel,” leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

The extra stimulation pushed Y/N over the edge, and she managed to whimper, “Love you!”, before she came apart with a scream of his name.

Robby could barely gasp out, “Good girl,” before he was following her over the edge, spilling inside of her with a long, low groan.

He collapsed on top of her once he was spent, and he nuzzled into her neck while they both tried to catch their breaths. Y/N traced a finger up and down his spine and mumbled, “Worth the wait, holy fuck.”

“Agreed,” Robby huffed out a laugh, his hand stroking across her thigh soothingly.

Robby carefully extricated himself from Y/N, kissing her jaw when she whimpered at the loss of him, then got up from the bed and went into his ensuite. He came back with a warm washcloth and set about cleaning up the mess they made together, whispering apologies whenever Y/N winced from oversensitivity.

Once he was done, Y/N held out her hand to wordlessly ask him for the cloth, so he handed it to her, an eyebrow raised in confusion. She sat up carefully, then proceeded to clean him up as well, his heart swelling at the simple act. She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest once she was done.

“I love you, Mikey,” she said, making him melt all over again before he said, “I love you, too, Y/N,” leaning down to kiss her gently on the lips.

Y/N hummed against his mouth, then once he pulled away, she said, “Mind helping me to the bathroom so I can pee? I don’t think I can walk,” which made him smirk proudly for about five seconds before she shot a withering look at him. Robby raised his hands in surrender, then helped her get out of bed and walk to the toilet.

Once she’d taken care of that and washed off her makeup, he helped her back into bed and said, “I’ll grab you a shirt and some boxers to wear. Can I get you anything else? Water?”

“I’m okay, Mikey. Just need you,” Y/N said, patting the space next to her to make her point.

Robby smiled and said, “Then I’ll make it quick,” before grabbing his discarded boxers off the floor to pull them on before rooting around in his dresser for a clean pair of boxers and an old Tulane Med shirt. He handed them to her with a smile, and she thanked him quietly before shimmying into the boxers and pulling the shirt over her head.

Once she was dressed, Y/N said, “Oh wait, I lied. Could you grab my purse from downstairs? My phone is in there, and I need to charge it,” so Robby nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am,” with a mock-salute before doing as she requested.

He came back into the bedroom and handed her purse to her with a, “Your belongings, My Dearest,” in a terrible British accent, which made her snort while taking out her phone and seeing that it was completely dead. She grumbled under her breath while plugging it in and leaving it on the bedside table to charge, tossing her purse to the side.

Once she was all situated, Y/N made playful grabby hands at Robby with a teasing pout on her face and said, “Be quicker,” which made him roll his eyes fondly and say, “As you wish, Angel,” before crawling into bed beside her and letting her snuggle up to him.

Robby kissed the top of her head, and she hummed contentedly before snuggling closer, a palm resting over his heart. They laid like that for a while just basking in each other’s warmth, then Y/N’s phone started doing its best impression of an earthquake on the side table from all the texts that started coming through.

Y/N grabbed her phone to see what the commotion was about, and laughed out loud when the first message she saw was from Frank: “You won me a lot of money, so thanks for that. Don’t give me details tho, I might throw up”. The other 30-notifications were from the group chat she was in with the other Pitt Girlies (and Dennis), where everyone was gossiping about how she was finally getting laid.

Robby tried to read the messages over her shoulder, but he didn’t have his readers on, so it was a moot point. Y/N simply replied, “Mission successful ;)”, to the group text and, “You’re welcome and noted”, to Frank before turning her phone off and settling back into Robby’s embrace.

Y/N said, “Everyone deduced what happened, so expect some high caliber razzing at work,” which made Robby say, “Oh, great. Love that,” his tone dripping with sarcasm.

But when Y/N just let out a giggle and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything other than finally having the woman he loves in every way possible.

———————————————————————

The Pitt Taglist: @supernaturalsuperhero, @cinnxmxngxrl, @robinavitchslut

Now when he sleeps, he sleeps. 

Which he deserves, to be honest. Jack had only fallen asleep two hours ago after spending most of the morning negotiating with her to finally (let you) get some rest. He’d taken the first shift without complaint when he saw you dragging your feet after a particularly rough night at the hospital. 

Go to sleep, honey. I got her. 

And of course Jack did. Taking it the way he takes everything in life. Wars. Patients. SWAT duty. Robby. A nameless baby. You. 

No biggie. 

So when she woke up, you had slipped out of bed silently. Now, after feeding her in the kitchen and more desperate bargains, you are tiptoeing back into the bedroom with her asleep in your arms. 

Sunlight tries and fails to get past the heavy blackout curtains that cover almost the whole front wall. The bed is already calling your name, it looks so soft and you can’t wait to lie next to your husband again. The bassinet is on Jack’s side, since he has more space over there, so you carefully reach it to place the sleeping babygirl on it. 

You’re almost there. You can see salvation. You are already on cloud nine. 

You’re also too busy imagining the warmth of Jack’s body next to yours, that you don’t notice when your foot catches on one of his crutches, sending it flying against the bassinet in a loud clatter that wakes everybody and the neighbor up. 

Oh no. Oh no no no. You had almost cried in relief when her little body relaxed and she finally drifted off just a few minutes ago. You might cry for real now. 

The baby beats you to it though. Her eyes open wide for a second before her face twists and she lets out the most piercing cry you’ve ever heard in your entire life. 

“No, no, no, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” you panic, immediately bouncing her against your chest. “I’m sorry–shh, shh, it’s okay.” 

You try to soothe her, walking away from the bed but it’s already too late. 

“What happened?” Jack’s voice comes out low and raspy when he sits on the bed, rubbing his eyes violently before focusing on you. “Did you get hurt?” 

“No!” you say quickly, heading toward the door even if your ankle does sting a little. “I’m fine, I just tripped. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You try to make a quick exit, but she cries harder, squirming in your hold with her little fists going into the air. You bounce her softly, patting her back reassuringly. 

“I know, I know you were asleep baby, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, almost at the door. 

“Wait,” Jack says before you can step out of the room, fully awake now as he reaches for something next to the bed. 

“Jack, no–you don’t have to get up,” you say, swaying in your spot. 

He ignores you as he sits on the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless, silver hair sticking up in messy waves, and already halfway through putting his prosthetic on. 

“Jack,” you try again, a little louder over the baby’s crying. “Please go back to sleep. I got her.”

He stands up after putting the crutch back on its place, and you take a few steps back as if to keep a distance between you. 

“You’re limping,” he points out. “Stop walking.”

“I said I’m fine,” you insist, now in the hallway. “I just tripped over the crutch. I already fed her, it took forever to get her to sleep again, but I swear I can–“

“Honey.”

It’s a simple word. It should not hold this much power over you. Yet it makes you stop right in your tracks as he gives you those impossible, worried hazel eyes. 

“Give her to me,” he says–no, he commands. “Please.”

“No.” You try to be just as firm, but your voice is barely audible over the wails. “You were up with her earlier and you’ve barely slept. You need more hours.”

“So do you,” he shrugs, crossing his arms. “Go back to bed, honey.” 

“Jack–“

“Bed.” 

His voice leaves no room for argument. 

Even when you want to tell him that you should be the one up. That you’re the one who convinced him you could do this, that you could open the door to this baby, to this fragile little life you already care too much for. But with the way the sweet girl is screaming in your ear, you’re too tired to keep pretending you have any real authority here. 

You sigh, carefully transferring the crying baby into his arms. Jack settles her on his bare chest, keeping a hand behind her head and his arm beneath her body. 

“I know. I know, sweetheart,” he coos, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Shhh, you’re okay, I got you.”

Jack begins to sway softly, his palm covers almost her whole back, keeping her little body tucked safely against the warm skin of his neck.

He prompts you to walk inside the bedroom again, and you don’t waste time protesting anymore. Before you know it your body is already sinking onto the absurdly expensive mattress you’re so grateful for right now, as Jack begins pacing the room with the fussy baby. 

She’s got some great lungs, you’ll give her that. 

“I know that was scary, kid,” he coos at her, “big noise in a dark room, mhm mean crutches…it’s alright, come here…”

You peek from your spot to catch her still kicking and letting out little sobs while Jack shifts her lower, his arm holding her whole weight as he puts her little ear to his chest. 

“Listen to my heart, right there, you hear that?” he says, and you can hear the smile on his voice. “Thump, thump, thump…”

His index finger taps lightly on her round belly, matching the rhythm beneath his ribs.

“That’s mine, yeah,” he nods, as if she understands anything he’s saying. “Big, old, grumpy heart. It’s been through a lot, but I like to think it still works pretty good.” 

That gets a little laugh out of you. Jack glances at you for a second, since you’re supposed to be asleep already, but he keeps talking to the baby.

“Yours does the same thing, but faster,” he explains, all serious, lifting one hand and gesturing with his fingers. “Because it’s tiny tiny like this. Brand new, working extra hard.”

There isn’t a single thought behind her eyes, but Jack’s voice seems to soothe her enough for her cries to break into small sobs as she listens intently to him. 

“Little thump thump thump thump,” he taps her belly faster, catching her attention, and her angry fists finally lower, trying to reach for his hand. “There you go, sweetheart.”

He smiles down at her, moving his hand closer. She starts batting it, her little legs no longer kicking in distress but in awe at Jack’s attention as her crying slowly subsides. You watch endeared from your spot, because yes milk might be great, but there’s nothing Jack’s hold can’t fix. 

She’s already so much like you. 

“You just wanted a little cuddle, huh?” Jack whispers playfully, swaying her softly, watching her little eyes start to close. “You can sleep now, kid. You’re safe…you’re home.”

You see him lift his gaze toward you, but you close your eyes pretending to be asleep. 

Jack just smiles, padding softly across the room toward the bassinet. But just as he’s about to place her down, she lets out a discomfort whine and tenses up in his hold. 

“Okay, okay, I won’t let go,” he chuckles, holding her close to him again. “Someone really did a number on you, didn’t they?” he shakes his head, trying to keep his voice steady. “ But nobody's leaving you, kid. Nobody’s forgetting you anymore. Not here." 

You bury your face on the pillow, trying to keep your own tears at bay. 

“I know living with us might not be easy,” he continues, rubbing circles on her back. “Two exhausted doctors with blackout curtains in every room. Sounds questionable, yeah…but we’re not bad,” he says with a cheeky smile. “Your mom–your foster mom is better than me,” he glances at you, making sure you’re still asleep before continuing, “she’s softer, and prettier…and she’s my favorite person. She’ll be yours too in no time.” 

Yup. That definitely got you.

“And for your foster dad…I learn fast, and I don’t scare easily. So if you’re planning on being difficult, you should know we’re still gonna be there for you,” he reassures. “And…maybe one day we’ll take the foster out of it…” he offers casually, like his heart–thump thump thump–is not telling him to just go sign the papers right now. “No pressure, of course…just saying, if you like it here,” he clears his throat, only to smile when he notices the girl has finally fallen asleep in his arms. 

He kisses her forehead. 

“It’s gonna take some time getting used to being a night crawler, but I think you already got this kid,” he adds in barely a whisper. “Hooah…”

That earns a snort from you, that turns into a sniffle after Jack poured his entire heart out thinking you were out. You suddenly feel his hand on your ankle, rubbing circles to the sore spot you hit the crutch with. 

“Sleep, honey.”

“I’m sleeping,” you say, keeping your eyes closed. 

“You were eavesdropping,” he says, but there’s no resentment in his voice. That makes you shift just enough to meet his eyes. 

The sight of him holding a sleeping baby to his bare chest just makes you want to cry more. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you say, wiping your cheeks but he just lifts an unimpressed eyebrow at you. “Okay, maybe I did. But it’s just…I think you’re really good at this.”

Jack only nods fondly, because if he speaks he’s gonna break too. 

 “I think we got this, we…we got her,” you add.

This time Jack rounds the bed, keeping a hand on the baby’s head so he can lean down and place a soft kiss on your lips. It’s salty, dry lips dancing together with a small bundle between your bodies. Your bundle.

Baby Jane Abbot.

“We got her,” he agrees, lingering for a moment before straightening up to pace around the room again. He’s clearly not letting her go. “Now go to sleep, honey. I don’t want to have to tell you again,” he says in that maddenly authoritative tone.

You bite back a smile, sinking deeper into the covers and reaching for his pillow to cuddle it until he goes back to bed. 

“...Jack?” 

“Mm?”

“You should charge people for that voice,” you whisper, earning a chuckle from him.

“I think the lack of sleep is getting to you,” he says, lowering his voice when the baby shifts. “Close your eyes. Now.”

With a satisfied smile on your face, you close your eyes only for a few seconds before opening one to peek at him. 

“...Can you say that again?”

Part Two | Part Three

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You could feel your face setting on fire as you desperately tried to think of what to do.

Robby’s eyes weren’t on you anymore as he got rid of his jacket and boots… this would be the perfect time to get up and scurry away towards the bedroom… Robby’s bedroom— Shit.

Your hands went to cover your bare tits as you tried to come up with something else.

“Decided to cut my sabbatical short,” Robby was explaining, “You all were right- as it turns out, I can’t go more than a month without the ED.”

You heard and felt Jack’s snicker, his fingers absentmindedly drawing circles where he still held your waist.

His hard cock was still deep inside you, and as much as you hated having to depart from it, you really needed to get off and try to at least regain some decency.

Which is what you tried to do. You began rising from Jack’s lap, but in an instant, his eyes were on you, his brows furrowed.

“Where you going, sweetheart?”

He can’t be serious right now.

You glanced pointedly at Robby behind him, your voice barely a whisper as you murmured his name.

“It’s alright, honey, Robby doesn’t mind,” he spoke softly, his hands caressing you softly. “Do you, Robby?”

Robby’s soft chuckle came from somewhere closer than where he’d previously been.

“I sure don’t,” He was smirking once you slowly raised your gaze.

He’d walked to the edge of the couch, right behind Jack.

You felt your face burn with embarrassment- and yet your pussy clenched harder around Abbot as you caught Michael’s eyes drink you in.

“We were having such a good time,” Jack murmured, his mouth on your collarbones as he pecked your skin, “Would be a shame to stop now.”

Oh God, he was being serious.

“Jack- I-”

Were you dreaming? Was this one of the sick fantasies that materialized in your mind whenever Robby and Abbot were both on shift, and you had to squeeze your tights together at how incredibly hot of a pair they made?

Everything seemed to point in that direction, except for the fact that the feel of Jack’s fingers removing your hands from your naked chest was very much real- the same went for Robby’s voice.

“You know, sweetheart... we had a talk about you before I went away.”

You were bare again now, and Jack was making use of the space, filling it with delicious, taunting kisses as Michael spoke.

“Decided none of us were gonna try anything... didn’t wanna take advantage of you or anything….” His voice was rough and soft all at once as his hand went to cradle your cheek, “and now look at that.”

Heat bloomed low in your belly and on your cheeks as you heard yourself whimper.

What he was saying was… unbelievable. They liked you- both of them. Just as you liked them.

This was really happening- Dr. Robinavitch was watching you as you sat on Dr. Abbot’s cock. And they both looked incredibly casual, as if this were a daily occurrence.

“Since when has this been going on?”

When you didn’t answer, Jack stopped his ministrations on your neck to speak, “Just two weeks, man.”

“Is he lying to me?” Robby asked you, his head tilted in doubt.

“N-no,” You murmured as you cowered under his stare.

To that, he smirked, shaking his head as he muttered, “A week- that’s how long you lasted.”

“C’mon, man- you knew it was bound to happen.” Jack groaned, looking at you with a smirk as his mouth ghosted yours, “You’re too pretty not to do something about it.”

You felt your heart skip, and your hips involuntarily grind against Jack’s lap- causing you to whimper pathetically.

“Oh sweetheart…” Abbot cooed, his hands going back to rest on your hips, “Go on, take what you need.”

There was nothing you wanted to do more. As unusual as this situation was, you were so turned on that you feared you’d start dripping on the couch any second now.

Yet you watched the two men uncertainly, biting your lip as you went against your instinct to use Jack’s manhood to feel good.

“Go on, baby,” Robby encouraged you once your eyes settled on him, “Do as he said.”

His palm was still on your cheek, his thumb pulling on your lower lip to free it from your teeth’s grip… and you had no choice but to obey.

You started slow, shily grinding onto him, feeling Jack’s dick graze and reach all those sweet spots inside of you as your clit rubbed against his base.

Your mouth hung open as soft whines filtered through your throat. Robby’s hands held your face so you could only look at him- and the look in his eyes… the darkness in his iris and the locking of his jaw gave you all the more incentive to go faster.

You began raising yourself on Jack’s dick just to slide back down again until you found the delicious pace from before your interruption.

Your moans weren’t so quiet anymore as you struggled to keep your eyes open and gripped Jack’s shoulders for dear life, your nails probably leaving crescent moons on his skin.

“So good for me, baby,” Jack murmured against your neck, resuming his kisses on your salty skin as he thoroughly enjoyed the show. “Such a good girl.”

You cried like a desperate little thing at that, his dick hitting that spongy spot inside of you that had you feeling on cloud nine.

“Jack feels good, baby?” Robby’s voice felt muffled, as if the pleasure was acting as a sound shield.

“Y-yes,” You whined, your voice breathless, your movements more and more desperate, “B-big,” you cried brokenly.

You felt Abbot’s growl vibrate against your chest at that, and seconds later, you felt his mouth against your ear as he whispered loud enough for Robby to hear, “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

You didn’t have the brain capacity to understand what he meant by that, or to analyze the grin that spread Michael’s lips at those words, because all you could focus on was the growing sensation that sparked in your belly.

“Oh my god,” You whined, your thighs burning with the effort as the sound of your skin slapping with Jack’s echoed against the walls.

“It’s ok, baby,” Robby murmured, watching closely as your eyes almost closed and your brows furrowed in bliss, “You’re doing so good.”

You didn’t even realize you were doing it, but as Robby guided his thumb into your mouth, instinctually, your lips closed around it, sucking him in further.

“That’s it, baby,” he nodded, the weight of his finger on your tongue making you wish it was replaced by his cock. And that image… that image made your orgasm approach even faster.

Your moans were silenced by Robby’s thumb, but Jack could feel your walls gripping him like a vice.

“Let go, sweetheart,” he commanded, kissing the spot right beneath your ear. “Be a good girl and show Robby how pretty you look when you come.”

That was it.

You didn’t even have time to mentally prepare yourself that a bright white flash of pure ecstasy overtook your soul.

You came like the world would end tomorrow, your pussy spasming around Jack as he couldn’t help but follow suit.

Somewhere in the frenzy, you could hear Abbot’s groans while Robby murmured what appeared to be soft words to you, his hand never leaving your face.

The pounding of your heart thumped in your ears as you tried to calm your breathing.

Your eyes fluttered open to both the men looking at you, Jack’s eyes soft with gratification and adoration, while Robby’s irises swirled with lust and just plain need.

“You wanna switch?”

Jack’s words didn’t even make sense to you. You were still lost in the haze of what had just happened.

“Not on the couch, man.” Robby shook his head, his lips pulling into a small smile as he watched you. “Let’s get on the bed, baby.”

__ __  __

Your legs felt like jelly as Robby towered over you.

You knew what was happening, and yet your brain was still buffering.

His lips were so close to yours… just a few inches and you’d be kissing him.

But that’s not what he had in mind.

“Lay down for me, baby.”

You blinked, needing a second to understand his command and do as told.

The mattress was soft, the comfy duvet wrinkling underneath you as you laid back, your wide eyes watching him.

With a quick move, he removed his shirt, throwing it behind him… in the direction of Abbot.

Your breath hitched at the sight of him leaning against the wall, his eyes dark as he watched the scene unfold.

By the time you looked back, Robby was naked- and your lungs took another toll.

You were propped on your elbows, shamelessly eying all of him. His broad chest, the dark hair on his pecs, on his belly, until your gaze lowered just enough to catch his cock-

You were pretty sure you’d stopped breathing completely.

That’s what they’d been talking about.

You really had seen nothing yet.

You swallowed dryly as his big hand wrapped around his dick, giving it two slow strokes that had him seemingly grow even more.

Your eyes were wide as he stalked closer to you, his smirk everlasting.

“R-Robby,” you stuttered, clearly intimidated.

“’S alright, baby. I’ll go real slow.”

“I-I- How…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, “spread your legs for me, baby.”

And even if your heart was going crazy and your brain was telling you that was an impossible fit, you did as told.

“Wider.”

You slid your feet further across the bed, opening yourself up to him completely, eliciting a delighted groan.

“Pretty,” he murmured, his palm going to your mound and his thumb moving to your folds, exploring slowly.

Jack’s come was still leaking out of you, creating a sultry mixture with your own juices.

Your cheeks heated at his unabashed gaze, but then his other hand grabbed the base of his manhood, his tip suddenly parting your folds, and all thoughts left your head.

You were whimpering already, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and Michael would have done anything to record those sweet sounds and listen to them on repeat all day long.

“It’s ok, baby, relax for me.” That’s all he murmured, as he started guiding his impossibly thick tip inside of you.

“Oh!” You gasped, your eyes wide open as you watched him thrust into you.

He was looking at where your bodies melted into one another, watching your greedy pussy swallow him in.

The stretch burned at first- he had the biggest cock you’d ever seen after all- counting porn- but his soft growls and groans were making you all the more pliant.

His thumb started circling your clit to help you out as broken cries fled your throat.

He was retracting his hips just to thrust softly into you, over and over again, filling you up inch by never-ending inch.

“O-Oh my god,” You were crying, your hands fisting the sheets as he kept going.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he reassured you, his free hand tight on our waist. “Stretching so good for me- such a good girl.”

Your walls tightened around him at that, causing him to hiss.

“Let me in- just like that… good girl”

You knew the moment he was in to the hilt, because you could barely breathe at the feeling of how unbelievably full you felt.

Breathy gasps spilled from your lips as your gazes met.

“Told you you could do it,” he smirked, before he started to move.

The moan you let out at the first full, deep thrust was more of a scream.

“Robby!” you gasped, your fingers gripping his forearm as he started building his pace.

His back hurt like a motherfucker from all those hours on his bike, but he’ll be damned if he denied himself this sight.

“He always makes you do all the work?”

How his voice was still so even when you could barely breathe, let alone think, was a mystery.

You want to tell him the truth, that no, Jack was usually very much adamant in his need to take care of you, to pin you beneath him and fuck you thoroughly well into the day… but all you could manage was a whine.

You watched his lips pull into a grin at the state he’d rendered you in.

“Oh, c’mon, brother, I’ve just come back from a twelve-hour shift,” Jack defended himself from his spot against the wall as your eyes found him.

You could see from the bed, even with his boxers back on, that he was hard again.

God, this was all so hot.

The way both their eyes were only focused on you as Robby’s thrusts had you bouncing up on the bed, your tits moving in tandem with his harsh movements…

“And she hasn’t?” Robby raised his brows, shooting Jack a quick, disappointed look, before coming back to you.

“You don’t have to worry about it now, baby,” he spoke softly, the thumb he still had on your bundle of nerves resuming its torturous movements. “I’ll take care of you like you deserve from now on.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach at those words.

Your hips were chasing his movements, forcing the loud smacking of his skin hitting your core over and over again to get even louder.

You could feel every inch of his dick inside you, every vein and ridge slide against your velvety walls as his tip speared you and reached parts of you no one ever could find but him.

And with a feeling like that… it was inevitable for tears to gather in your eyes, your vision blurring as a knot of pleasure tightened inside you.

“Oh baby, I know it’s a lot.” his voice was calming, soothing your overexited system.

It was a lot. He was a whole damn lot.

“Just take it,” he cooed, “Don’t think about it, sugar, just be good for me and Jack, yeah?”

You slowly nodded, tears rolling down your temples and onto the sheets as the air filled with your moans.

“That’s it, pretty girl— that’s it.”

And suddenly, it was all too much.

“I-I- Oh my-”

He groaned at how tight you got. His chest inflating with the effort not to come on the spot.

“Let go, baby,” he instructed. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

The last thing you saw was his smile; everything after that was sort of a blur.

A tidal wave of pleasure washed over your body; you were pretty sure you were moaning his name like a prayer as you experienced a mind-blowing orgasm.

Your eyes and ears started functioning again as Robby’s thrusts got sloppier, more erratic.

He grinned as you whimpered at the overstimulation, his groans getting louder as he got closer, until he spilled inside you with a feral roar.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed after several moments, slowly pulling out of you.

Jack had gotten beside him somewhere in the meantime, and both men’s eyes fell to the release spilling out of your spent core.

“C’mere,” you whined, breaking them out of their amazed trance.

They both smiled, and it was Jack who joined you on the bed first, moving you so your head could rest on the pillow as he spooned you, wrapping his arms around you.

“You did real good, sweetheart,” he murmured to your ear, his stubble grazing your skin as your eyes fluttered shut.

You were exhausted.

You didn’t even hear Robby lying down next to you until he placed your head to rest on his chest.

“So… am I gonna have to sanitize every surface of the house?”

A soft laugh fled your throat as Jack grinned amusedly.

“The kitchen should be saf—” The look you sent Jack had him suddenly remember all the alternative meals he’d consumed on the kitchen counter. “No, yeah… the whole apartment.”

Your first encounter had been right at the front door, where Robby and Jack were positioned to greet the guests.

This, you were prepared for.

Jack's his best friend. There was no way he wasn't going to be at this wedding. So, you plaster a smile across your face, and put on the show of a lifetime.

Jack's easy. You've always liked him. He was Best Man at your own wedding to Robby.

It becomes more of a struggle when your eyes land on the man you thought you'd be with for the rest of your life. "Michael," You nod curtly, decidedly not going in for the hug you had with Jack.

He holds a hand to his chest in faux-offence. "You wound me, sweetheart. I thought we put the animosity to bed with the divorce settlement."

There hadn't been much to settle. No children, and Robby let you keep the house. The only thing he let you give him was your engagement ring.

The sight of it made you sick. A reminder of all the ways you failed each other.

At the time, it felt like an attack - like he was trying to one-up you, prove that he could be the bigger person. Eighteen months on, you're endlessly glad you didn't have to try and find another place to live while your world was crumbling around you.

"You look good," he continues, and when your gaze meets his, you know he's being sincere.

"I should get inside," is your reply. "I promised Dana I'd grab seats for her and Benji."

And with that, your first interaction with Robby in twelve months comes to a close.

*****

Glancing quickly at the seating chart, your heart sinks when you see your name scrawled next to Michael Robinavitch. Normally Best Man is up beside the couple, but the Mohan-Abbots had opted for a sweetheart table.

Meaning you're doomed to four hours of your ex-husband's company. And what's worse: you're enjoying it.

Robby's always looked good in a tux, but the charm offensive is at its highest today - pressing a kiss to your cheek in greeting, dealing out the compliments in spades, and refilling your glass each time it starts to get low.

"Remember ours?" He asks, voice quiet as he leans over to you during the first dance.

"Of course I do. We danced to Roy Orbison and then my heel snapped halfway through, so I had to go barefoot for the rest of the night."

"That was a good day," He muses, expression unreadable as he watches Jack and Samira. He looks almost... wistful?

"Yeah, it was. Pity they weren't all like that."

Against all the odds, COVID had been one of the better times for you and Robby. Freshly married, where the work had been absolute hell, you'd found solace in each other.

Things were good, until they weren't. Until Robby couldn't outrun his demons anymore, and then stopped trying entirely.

"Yeah, uhm, about that..." He says softly. "I wanted to apologise."

This you weren't expecting. Arching an eyebrow, you turn towards him. "For what?"

"For everything," Robby murmurs, his gaze finally dropping from Jack and Samira to his own hands. He swallows hard, his jaw tight as he traces the line of his thumb. "For checking out. Giving up on us."

Your hand tightens around your wine glass, as you search his expression - looking for the catch, the deflection. You find none. "It's in the past now, anyway." Your voice is barely above a whisper. "We just... weren't meant to be. And that's fine."

"Mhm," is his only response. As if unconvinced.

You're not even sure you've convinced yourself, much less him, and against your better judgement, he talks you into a dance.

Were it not a wedding, you're positive you'd be able to resist him. But when it feels like everybody around you is perfectly happy and coupled up, you find it incredibly easy to slip back into Robby's embrace.

You still have some sense.

Keeping his hand firmly on your waist, rather than slipping downwards to where it used to settle, you try and think of anything but the man in front of you.

The potential melanoma that you saw in clinic last week.

Not the wrinkle lines that crease at Robby's eyes.

Your shopping list for next week.

Not how warm he feels against you.

The fact that you're running out of Black Honey.

Not anything to do with Michael Robinavitch.

You tap out after a ballad, unable to take the proximity to him anymore, and excuse yourself to go mingle with Dana and Perlah.

The rest of the night is spent willing yourself not to look back over at him.

*****

"You know, it'll be us next," Robby says, voice low as he watches you say goodbye to Samira.

"By us, do you mean your ex-wife?" Jack asks, eyebrow arched. "Because I hate to break it to you, brother, but you've already done that. And it went up in fuckin' flames."

"It would be different this time," Robby shakes his head.

"Yeah? How?"

"You'll see." Robby pats Jack on the back, and gets to his feet, moving to intercept you as you make for the door. The stairs down from the venue are pretty steep, and he clocked your Louboutins during dinner.

He bought you that pair on your honeymoon. He wonders if you remember.

"Need a hand?"

He can see that you're about to decline, before taking a sample step, and letting out a sigh. "Yes, please."

Robby tries not to let the contact get to his head too quickly as he slips an arm through yours. He hadn't even realised until tonight just how much he's missed you.

Truly.

The days after he moved out of your shared house had been some of the worst of his entire life. After about six months of no-contact, he'd finally decided that he needed to get his life together, and move on with things.

Get back on the horse, as Jack put it.

Except now it's eighteen months on from the divorce, he's been on exactly zero dates, and all he can think about is winning you back.

"This is purely because I can't walk in these shoes," You warn. "Nothing more."

Robby's jolted from his daydream and back to reality. Right. You don't want him back at all.

He's gotta find a way to change that.

Number two. Nineteen months post-divorce. A persistence.

After Jack and Samira's wedding, you're not expecting to see Robby again until they start having kids and you're invited to the baby shower.

That doesn't appear to be the case when you watch his motorcycle pull into the parking lot of your clinic exactly one week later.

A notch appears between your brows immediately, but you're still in the middle of a consultation - you have a feeling that your patient wouldn't be too thrilled with you leaping up to investigate.

Instead, you assure her that her mole has not, in fact, grown three centimetres since you saw her last week. It takes multiple pictures and two rulers before she'll even consider that it may be stress-related.

By the time you're finished, the last person you want to deal with is your ex-husband.

At least it's a paeds clinic after lunch. The children tend to be much easier to handle, and usually have straight-forward presentations. Eczema, contact dermatitis, or psoriasis for the teens.

All things you can do in your sleep.

But first, lunch. And getting Michael Robinavitch to leave.

He's leaning over the desk at reception, one of his more charming smiles plastered across his face as he talks to Pippa at reception. “I was just wondering if you knew when she'd be finish– oh, there she is. No need. Thanks for all your help.”

You've known Pippa for two years, and you've never once seen her crack a smile out in the lobby. She's practically grinning at Robby.

Uh oh.

This is bad.

Still scowling at him, you reach for the collar of his shirt and tug sharply, forcing him to fall into step behind you as you head for your office.

You don't need to air all your dirty laundry in the middle of your practice.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you're spinning on your heel. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Robby just shrugs. “You said you work Fridays usually. Thought you might like some company for lunch.”

“You know - ex-husbands don't usually just hang out with their ex-wives.”

“When have we ever been ordinary though?” He's exhaustingly chipper today - a far cry from his demeanour during the latter years of your marriage.

You take him in, trying to work out if this is all some big practical joke. After trying to tell yourself that the Abbot-Mohan wedding was a fluke, you grudgingly have to admit to yourself that Robby does look good.

He's got exactly the right amount of scruff going for him right now, he's lost the alcohol bloat, and he seems like there's less of the world's weight on his shoulders.

“I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Lunch is always a good idea,” He replies easily. “Three meals a day, and all that.”

There's no way out of this. Once Robby sets his mind to something, he's going to get it. Sighing heavily, you reach for your bag and jacket. “Only if you're paying.”

“Always, sweetheart.”

You fight the urge to remind him that your salary exceeds his by about 40k a year these days, with all the private work.

Even when you were married, you were still the official breadwinner of the family. Skin pays more than emergencies.

“And don't call me sweetheart.”

You're expecting some kind of quip, or snarky remark, but he just nods, and offers you his hand. “Got it.”

“We're not holding hands.”

Another nod, and he follows you out of the clinic and onto the street. You pretend to miss the looks exchanged between your staff.

A few of them know Robby already, and you're betting the ones that don't are wondering why you've been keeping him a secret.

“Noted. Hand-holding's more of a date two activity then?”

The expression on your face is nothing short of murderous. “This is not a date. It's lunch.”

“With somebody you've slept with many, many times before.”

Whatever illusions you'd managed to conjure of Robby after the wedding are completely shattered.

Because Michael Robinavitch is many things, but cool and suave are not amongst them. He's annoying and persistent, and a bad husband.

“I'm going back inside and ordering from Uber Eats-”

“No, no, no - wait!” A hand curls round your wrist, and you think that there might be a hint of desperation in his tone. “M'sorry, shit - just, don't go.”

“Why not?” Yanking your arm out of his grasp, you cross them both over your chest, and do your best to stare him down.

He swallows heavily, voice dropping to barely more than a whisper. “I miss you.”

"Robby," You sigh, but he cuts you off.

"We were in each other's lives for almost a decade - don't you think it's a little unnatural for that to have all disappeared? Surely we can be friends."

You have to bite back a scream. "If I remember correctly, it was you who didn't want to be friends."

"I didn't want us to break up in the first place!"

It slips out without thought, and you're suddenly regretting taking a lunch break at all. "I'm not doing this here," You start, but he beats you to the draw.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He scratches the back of his neck, and glances around the sidewalk before his chin drops to his chest. "I've been doing the work. Going to therapy, no more alcohol, you name it. M'even taking some time off work to really get into it all."

The Robby you were married to would never have considered taking the blame for his actions.

"Can't undo the last decade, Michael," you reply softly.

"I know," he insists. "I know. Believe me. It's a well-discussed topic in therapy. I just... I'm trying to be better. And I want to try and make things right with you. One hundred percent platonically."

"You literally just called this a date," you deadpan.

He scoffs. "I didn't say I was perfect."

Number three. Twenty months post-divorce. Another man.

Apparently, you and Robby text now.

You're as surprised as anybody else, but in the time you've been separated, Robby's persistence appears to have intensified greatly.

Each Thursday, he meets you at the clinic for lunch, having bribed newly-qualified attending Frank to cover for him.

He offers to pick you up after nights out, which you accept more often than not (you hate getting Ubers when you're drunk).

Currently?

He's fixing your busted boiler.

You'd be lying if you said that you hadn't dropped it into a text because you knew that he would drop everything to come and fix it for you. Even with a sabbatical looming in just a week, his reply had been instantaneous.

Now, you're perched on the washing machine while you watch a sweaty Robby tinker around in the washroom.

He's already been warned that you have a date tonight, and therefore has to be finished by seven - complete honesty is the main policy of this tentatively developing friendship.

All you'd received in response had been a thumbs up.

That means he's furious.

Really, it had been a little mean on your part. But he doesn't have a claim to you anymore, and you need him to know that if he's going to still be in your life.

When you excuse yourself to the bathroom, you're not expecting your phone to be in Robby's hand when you return. "Roger from Hinge said he's going to be late tonight."

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Your phone vibrated. Thought it might have been an emergency."

You snatch it out of his grasp and scowl. "Why would an emergency text and not call?"

You both go to step at once, awkwardly colliding chest-to-chest. "Can I see a picture of him?"

"What? No!"

"Why not? Thought we were being honest."

It amazes you that Robby manages to somehow be the most serious man you've ever met, and also emulate a toddler with his petulance. You reach for your phone, and don't even notice Robby dipping his head.

His lips are on yours, and suddenly you're twenty-six again and making out with your attending for the first time after the worst shift of your life.

You'd already decided that Emergency Medicine was not for you, but that Michael Robinavitch absolutely was.

In your head, it was going to be a fling. Something sexy and secret for your final year of med school.

The wedding had been a surprise - you never thought that Robby was the type.

The 3 carat emerald cut bezel had told you otherwise. You'd never been able to build up the courage to ask him exactly how much money he spent on it.

The divorce had been an even bigger surprise.

Not to you, by the end. The last eighteen months of your seven-year-marriage had been decidedly less-than-stellar, to the point where couples counselling couldn't even make a dent.

After COVID and Pittfest, you didn't even recognise your husband anymore. You didn't recognise yourself.

While your mind might be surprised by the contact, your body certainly isn't, and you gasp into his mouth.

His hands are everywhere, hauling you closer to him, and you can feel your carefully-applied lipstick smudging across his cheek.

It's only after two minutes of kissing that you finally pull back, and surface to catch your breath. "Robby, I have to go - I have plans."

He's not quite so easily deterred, though. "Yeah, with a guy who looks just like me." You didn't even make it to showing Robby his photo, and yet he's right. Tall, dark, and broody - you've very clearly got a type. He leans in to kiss you again, feeling a perverse sense of pleasure when you melt into his touch. "You could have the real thing, baby. I'm right here."

That's the problem. Ever since you reconnected with him at Jack and Samira's wedding, it's like Robby has been everywhere.

He's practically inescapable.

He moves to suck a mark onto your collarbone, and you make the feeblest of attempts to push him off. "This is a bad idea."

"It's only a bad idea if we make it one," Robby hums, crowding you up against the kitchen counter, as you feel your willpower start to seep away. You have plans with Roger in thirty minutes.

But when Robby sinks to his knees in front of you, hiking one leg over his shoulder, you forget he even exists. “Say the word, and I will,” He mumbles.

There are many words that would end this right now.

Stop. No. Don't.

And yet, your lips can't seem to conjure any of them. You try and form each of the letters, but the only one that forms is an R.

Then an O.

Two B's.

And a Y.

He doesn't need to move your underwear to get you where you need to go. Kissing and nipping, licking and sucking - your grip on the doorframe tightens with every passing second.

Suddenly, you're struck with a vision of a morning with Robby, a week before you filed for divorce. A vision of what your future could be like if you let him in again.

The television hums in the background, something neither of you is watching. Dinner's been sitting in the oven on low for almost half an hour. The chicken is drying out.

You hear him sigh before he even rounds the corner into the kitchen.

"Hey." His voice is flat. Tired.

You look up from the sink. "Hey."

He drops his keys into the bowl by the door. Misses. Doesn't bother picking them up.

"Long day?"

"Mhm."

You wait for something more. Anything. But it doesn't come.

"You want me to plate up dinner?"

"If you want."

It's always 'if you want' these days. It's a Herculean effort to bite your tongue. "My brother called - asked if we wanted to come round next weekend."

"M'working." It's barely more than a grunt.

"You've worked the last six Saturdays - surely someone else could cover. Jack would cover. You could tell them no for once."

"I can't."

"You mean you won't."

"Stop!"

Your voice is the firmest it's been all night. Chest heaving, it's all you can manage to scramble away from Robby. He kneels where he is, hands hesitating where you were just a second ago.

"W-What's wrong? Did I do something?"

Your lip is trembling. “I don't think I can do this again. You hurt me so much, Michael. I-I mean, you're fucking leaving in a week-”

Robby's face falls.

“M'going on sabbatical, not leaving. I'm really trying to work the rest of my shit out. Let me do that, and then let me win you back. Please. I haven't done any of this solely to get you back. But I can't imagine being with anyone else.”

He folds his hands together.

"I spent a long time thinking providing was enough. That if I worked harder, put in more hours, kept the lights on, paid the mortgage..." He shrugs. "That was love."

"You stopped talking to me."

"I know."

"You stopped letting me in."

"I know."

Finally, you summon the courage to ask the million dollar question. "Would it be different this time? If we did it again?"

"Yes." He sounds so sure of his answer that you're almost envious.

But you're still not quite ready. "I hope you're not expecting me to sit at home for three months and wait for you."

"Never," he replies immediately, and you genuinely believe him. "I just want to be in the running again. And earn it. Properly."

Number four. Two years post-divorce. A date.

Robby. 22:01. Just got back to town What are you up to?

You hate your heart for doing a little flip as soon as it sees Robby's name flash on your phone.

Two years ago, the same sight made you sick to your stomach.

He had told you that he'd be in touch when he was finished with his sabbatical, but you assumed that meant you'd get a call a week after he was home. Not the same night.

Maybe Michael Robinavitch has had some character growth. Maybe he could be a good husband this time round-

No. You can't let yourself think like that.

You and Robby got divorced for a reason. Many reasons. More reasons than you got married in the first place.

He was married to his work, first and foremost. Never once did he stray, and he barely even glanced at the nurses and interns who would look at him with stars in their eyes, and yet you were still the other woman within your own marriage.

Then there were the self-destructive tendencies. The times when he'd hit the alcohol a little too hard after a long shift, and be almost unresponsive for hours as he slept it off.

Mostly, you think it was the refusal to try and help himself.

To try therapy. Properly. Not just a few meetings before calling it quits, but really making some efforts towards self-improvement. He couldn't do it for himself, and he wouldn't do it for you.

You couldn't handle the stress long-term. Of not knowing when he'd be home that night, or whether you were getting sweet, romantic Michael, or sour-faced Robby.

It had been the hardest decision of your life, serving him with divorce papers.

But it clearly all worked out for the better. You're both healthier apart, though happier is probably debatable. You like the peace that being single affords you.

So why are you considering letting him back in, after all the therapy and work to get over him?

"Is everything okay?" Mark's voice cuts through your spiral, and your gaze snaps up to him.

"Hm?"

"You get bad news or something? You've been staring at your phone for like two minutes."

Shit.

Your fingers start moving before you can consider your response. If Robby's matured so much, he'll be perfectly alright with this.

You. 22:04. I'm on a date, actually

"Sorry, it was just work. Asking for a consult." Your smile is tight, and you're hoping he doesn't see through the very obvious lie.

If he does, he doesn't comment on it, and you return to your conversation about shares, or stocks, or something equally boring.

Robby had handled all the investment stuff while you were married, and now you pay someone to do it for you.

Finally, he heads up to the bar to get more drinks, and you slip your phone out again.

Robby. 22:05. When will you be done? I'll come and pick you up. Miss my girl.

A text like that from anybody other than Robby would have earned an instant block. Unfortunately, despite his three months away, you're still not immune to the Robinavitch charm.

You never have been.

Besides - you'd already decided you weren't going to sleep with Mark tonight. He's a nice enough guy, but the deal had been sealed when you'd been discussing music, and he hadn't known who Patti Smith was. This man is not your soulmate. But going home alone would mean a date with your vibrator, and one orgasm at most.

Robby would double that, at least.

You. 22:21. ...Not your girl But you can pick me up around 11.

You shoot him the address of the bar, and consider how you're definitely going to hell for this.

The rest of the date passes in half-time, so painfully slowly that you figure you must have a few new wrinkles than you did at the start. Finally, it's time to make your escape. To ease the impending blow, you throw down your half of the cheque in notes, along with a sizeable tip. "You know, I'm really sorry, but there actually was a work emergency. Thought it would be okay, but they need me in."

"A... dermatology emergency?"

"They're more common than you'd think - my colleague is coming to pick me up," You lie through your teeth. "But I had a really nice night."

Another lie.

You try to dart out so that Mark won't see you leave with Robby, but no luck. The motorcycle is pulled up to the curb with Robby leaning against it, a second helmet in his hands.

“I thought you were going to bring the car!” You hiss, throwing Mark an apologetic glance over your shoulder.

"Bike was what I was riding, and I missed my girl. Mark have a problem with that?"

"If he knew you were my ex, probably."

Maybe you and Robby do deserve each other. God, you're awful. Robby clips the helmet under your chin, and you pretend to not notice your date's gaze staring at you both while he waits for his car to be brought round.

"You ready?"

You nod, though you feel anything but. You've never liked the bike, much to Robby's chagrin. One of his favourite things is having you wrap your arms around his waist while he drives.

*****

Fuck, he knows you too well. It's almost unfair, that even after over a year of separation that he still knows you better than anybody in the world.

There are no pleasantries. No discussions. Just a beeline for the house, before clothes are discarded in a haphazard manner as you try and make it to the bedroom in one piece.

You don't quite make it there before Robby gives you orgasm number one. Torso on the top landing, he gets carried away on the staircase, leaving you totally seeing stars.

Thankfully, he's more than familiar with the house layout, and carries you the rest of the way.

“W-Wait - condom," You interrupt. Last thing you need is a baby to complicate matters. He reaches for the bedside table, complete muscle memory, but you shake your head. “Down one.”

He huffs a little, obviously put out at the change in what he still considers to be his home.

Of course, the fact that you have these at all makes his blood boil a little.

Not that you can't have seen other people.

You've been separated for almost two years, and were growing apart long before that, but god is he so glad to have you like this again. In the home that you both shared - on the bed that he paid for.

Like nothing ever went wrong.

Determined to put the memory of all other men to shame, Robby takes you around his cock, before giving you his fingers and tongue again. By the time you come down, you're more spent than he's ever seen you before.

You're barely awake as you curl into his side. "How was the trip?"

"Really great," he answers honestly. "Did me a lot of good, but I'm glad to be back. Missed you too much."

"Shouldn't be telling you this," you hum slightly, eyes fluttering closed. "But I missed you too."

Number five. Three years post-divorce. Forever.

“You have some white coming in,” You hum, fingers carding through Robby's hair where his head rests in your lap. The windows are cracked open just enough to let a breeze in, and you can hear the faint sounds of a lawn mower down the street.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You separate a few strands between your fingers, tilting his head toward the light. "Right here. My favourite old man."

Robby scoffs. "That feels excessive."

"Well, you did marry a woman eighteen years younger than you. Feels like something you brought on yourself."

You think back to the man who used to come home after twelve-hour shifts, kiss you on the forehead, tell you he was just tired, then carry the weight of the world around in silence until it crushed everything else.

This version of Robby still has bad days.

Still wakes up anxious sometimes. Annoyed. Still gets overwhelmed by work. Still occasionally retreats to the garage or the backyard for half an hour when his head gets too loud.

The difference is that he always comes back.

And he lets you help.

Sure, it had been a little embarrassing announcing that you were back with your ex-husband - especially after all the shit that had gone down between you both.

But Robby had been right.

There's no one else you could ever imagine being with.

Despite all this, you're still shocked when the next words fall from his lips. "Marry me."

"What?" Your fingers freeze mid-motion, and you try to gage from his upside-down expression whether he's joking or not. You don't think he is.

"Marry me. Again."

"Holy shit," You breathe, head spinning. "What? Are you joking?"

He sits up, turning to take your hands in his. "Deadly serious, sweetheart. I uh, didn't really know what the etiquette was for this kind of thing - I know you liked your first ring, but that felt sort of like bad karma. So I was thinking, if you say yes, we could go shopping for a new one together."

A few years ago, you would have been making the biggest mistake of your life. Now, you don't feel a shred of hesitation. "Yes."

His face breaks into a smile. "Yeah?"

You nod, lip between your teeth as you fight back tears. "Fuck it. Let's get married again."