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"oh fuck- shut up, will you? i'm t-trying... mmnh... to focus," you manage out. trying to sound stern is basically an impossibility when you've got his cock smushed inside you to the hilt.

his hands are fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, thighs trembling beneath you as you sink down on him and then rock your hips back and forth while completely stuffed. this method doesn't give him as much pleasure as it does for you, but you don't care. this isn't for his pleasure, or your connection. all you care about is how deep he hits when you sink all the way, how your cunt's clenching so tight he can't stop shaking.

"f-fuck-!" he whines again pathetically through the lace in his mouth, drool soaking the crotch of your panties where they're pressed over his mouth and nose. his eyes are wide, glassy, fixed on the place where you meet him. it's humiliating how desperate he looks.

"you like getting used, huh?" you pant, beginning to bounce again so the overstimulation hits once more. you let his big, drooling cock drag and catch with each rough bounce. it makes that slick, wet sound every time you move.

"ah- ye-yeah, like it soooo much," he moans so loud it vibrates through your soaked panties, tries to say something, but you shove your panties harder into his face so you don't hear what shit he has to say. his cock pulses again and you can feel more warmth spill out of you, overflowing from the tip, dripping down to his balls in glooping heaps. "such a -shit- big fucking cock wasted on a nobody like ngh! you. y-you don't deserve it."

your voice cracks halfway through but you don't stop or pretend this is anything but using him like he's just a toy that happens to twitch and moan and cum without your permission. your hands are braced on his chest for balance, his skin hot and slick under your palms from how hard he's sweating, poor thing.

you push the underwear just enough to see his eyes, which are teary and rolled back. his eyes clamp shut when you drop down especially hard, and his whole body jerks like he's seizing. his stomach tightens under your hands but the second you grind down again deep, slow and mean, he lets out a strangled sob into your panties, soaked through with spit and the sharp scent of your cunt.

"mmnh, fuck, look at you," you breathe out, "you're crying, sweetheart. is it too much?" you coo mockingly, dragging your hips up until just his swollen tip is nestled at the edge of your cunt, nearly pulling out. the area where his cockhead enters you is smeared in cum and slick. he scrabbles at your arms, needing to be back inside you. then, without warning, you slam back down, clamping hard on him.

he screams behind the fabric. legs kicking. you begin grinding down hard as punishment until you feel another twitch inside you, his cock thickening, spurting another weak, creamy load. his fifth? sixth? doesn't matter.

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you’ve told the man no before, of course, but he hated it. so, along came the whining and pouting. begs coming out soft at first: tugging on your bottoms and asking you to take a short break for him, but this only urges you to leave him like this. there was only so much you could handle before he was going to regret it. “dennis.” you say sternly, placing a firm hand on his chest to push him away, ignoring the glimmering pleas in his eyes. 

this doesn’t work—it never does. 

dennis has the strength to overpower you. big hands grabbing your shoulders, pushing you against the wall with ease as his eyes narrow with indignation. 

“it’s not fair. i-if you wanted to have a quickie, you know i’d say yes, honey.” the pet-name comes out bitter and mean, fingers digging into your scrub-clad shoulders as his grip gets tighter. but, do you take this uncalled-for behavior? let him have his way just because he’d “do it for you”? absolutely not. 

that’s why you push him off you with all the force in you, making him stumble backwards with shock painted all over his irritatingly pretty features. “you’d say yes because you’re an insatiable bitch..you know that, right?” you snap, taking a single step forward and pushing him down on the bed he planned on fucking on. look how things turned out. “wait—m’sorry, baby. please—“

“shut up. say another word to me and you’ll be in deeper shit than you are now.” you bend at the hip to get all up in his face, your scowl sending tingly daggers down his spine. he knows exactly what’s about to come. your arm slings back before slapping his cheek clean across the face, leaving his soft skin marked with a deserved red. oh, but you weren’t done. 

you hold his jaw and bark out a sharp demand, “open your mouth now.” it’s needless to say that dennis listens immediately. he opens his mouth wide for you, heart thumping against his rib cage as anticipation stirred in his tummy. you worked up a mouthful of saliva and let it fall free from your mouth and into his mouth. he fights the moan threatening to vibrate from his chest as your warmth spreads on his tongue. grabbing his chin, you shut his mouth and tell him, “you already know what to do,” and you’re right. he does know. so he swallows it, looking you in the eyes as he does so. lips quivering and slick with your spit. 

“you know what, i’ll talk to you later. i don’t even want to hear your voice right now,” you mutter, giving him one last look of sharp disappointment as you leave the room to tend to your job. 

oh he was so, so fucked. 

when you guys drive home, the air is potent with silence, dennis’ felt like he was going to suffocate, but he needed to save that feeling for what was soon to come. 

when you step into your apartment, you don’t glance at him, just telling him to “take a shower then go to the bedroom,” dropping your bag on the couch and peeling off your outer layer as you walk in the kitchen. “y-yes, ma’am,” dennis mumbles, knowing that it would be in his best interest to follow your demands instantly and maybe you’d go light on the punishment. 

nope. 

“nuh uh. mean boys don’t get to cum.” you chide, letting go of his throbbing cock as soon as he announces his approaching climax. you have him laying flat on your shared bed; panting feverishly, clothes gone, and in tears because you denied him another orgasm. he begs for your forgiveness, saying that “i-i didn’t mean it baby— and-and he’ll never be mean again. p-promise. please let me cum..” hands reaching for yours to gain some type of pity, but you yank them away and chuckle meanly “next time you wanna be a brat, you think about the consequences. this is your fault.” 

and you edge him to your heart’s content!!! <3 

Warnings: Death mentioned, crying, SMUTTT holy fuck this is a lot of dirty shit, handjob, semi-public handjob, oral sex (both male and female receiving), riding, names, the word 'pathetic' used to degrade, dacryphilia, degradation, praise, pet names used (baby), ma'am kink, no use of a condom (they just raw dog this shit bruh). MINORS DNI WITH THIS, THIS IS STRICTLY 18+ !!

a/n: guys, I'm sorry to admit, but I am in fact horny for this man. It's most definitely ovulation, but I don't care. I need him NEOW. So yes, I wrote this on Easter Sunday, and I'm sure that's a sin somewhere, but I genuinely don't care. It's 11 at night where I live, I'm watching Caseoh, and I'm listening to old Rihanna, so I'm basically in heaven right now. Also, no, I haven't watched the most recent episode where Ogilvie cries after losing the patient and is found by Whitaker in the Ambuance bay, but I've seen clips on TikTok so this is based off of that. wc. 10,159 (holy shit guys this was so long)

James Ogilvie loves to follow you around. 

You noticed it on the second or third hour he was there. 

He was always behind you, even though you weren’t his assigned R2. He asked you multiple questions over multiple minutes, kept looking towards you to see if you caught him correcting dosages and calling out the right names for things, etc. 

You knew he liked being smarter than most people. That was more than apparent on multiple occasions. So, when he started coming up to you, asking questions once again, to try and show off his knowledge, you had just had about enough. 

“Should I start fluids?”

You don’t even look up at first, you’re halfway through a chart, pen moving quickly, mentally juggling three different patients and a lab result you’re still waiting on.

“Yeah,” you say, distracted. “Go ahead.”

“Okay.”

It happens again, not ten minutes later. “Do you want me in room three or five?”

That makes you glance up. Ogilvie’s already standing there, chart in hand, eyes on you. He’s focused on your face in a way that feels just a little too intent for such a simple question.

“Do whatever you want, Ogilvie. Three is fine,” you answer.

“Got it.” He turns immediately, like the decision unlocked something, and disappears down the hall. You frown faintly, but it doesn’t stick; there’s too much going on to think anything about it.

By mid-shift, it’s constant. Not annoying, not yet exactly, but noticeable in a way that starts to itch at the back of your brain.

“Is this okay?”, “Should I call for labs?”, “Do you want me to page cardio?”, “Should I—”

“Yes, Ogilvie,” you say, cutting him off gently but firmly. “That’s fine.”

“Okay.”

Always okay.

He always responds with okay. An immediate response. ‘And soon enough, he’ll be waiting for permission to breathe’, Cassie told you. 

“You realize he’d let you ruin his life if you asked nicely, right?” The voice slides in from your left, dry and amused.

You don’t need to look to know it’s Trinity Santos. Still, you do. She’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching Ogilvie move between rooms with a kind of lazy curiosity. Like she’s observing something mildly entertaining.

You exhale through your nose. “That’s dramatic.”

“Is it?” she tilts her head. “Watch him.”

You don’t respond right away, but you do watch. 

“I dare you to call him over here. Say his name and watch him come running.” Trinity tells you, poking your arm. 

“That’s mean, Trinity.” You say, continuing to watch as Ogilvie looks over at where you two are standing for a moment before looking back at the patient, smiling. “Come onnnn.” Trinity practically whines. “The day is almost over, night shift is coming in soon. I want to have some fun before the day is over.” 

You roll your eyes. “You owe me a white-claw.” You tell her before calling him over. “Ogilvie.” You barely even raise your voice as he appears almost instantly.

“Yeah?” he asks, a little breathless, as he got there faster than he expected to.

And then he just… waits expectantly. Eyes on you. His shoulders were slightly squared. Hands still. So ready. The realization settles slowly.

You hand him a chart. “Take this one. Initial workup.”

“Okay,” he says quickly, already reaching for it. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

He’s not incompetent. Not even close. Maybe a little apathetic, but he’s good, careful, and attentive. He notices things other people miss. Which is why what happens next shouldn’t have happened.

A patient comes in just before you’re all supposed to clock out. He complains of having chest pain. Being mid-fifties, you have a fear of it being a heart attack. He looks pale, and he’s sweating buckets, but when he clutches his side like he’s trying to hold something in his body together, your mind shifts to maybe appendicitis.

His vitals aren’t great, but not immediately catastrophic. They’re somewhat manageable, and you’ve definitely seen worse.

“Ogilvie, take point,” you say, passing him the chart. “Run the initial workup. I’ll check in.”

“Okay,” he says again, quick and certain. “Yeah.” There’s no hesitation from him and no uncertainty. At first, everything goes exactly as it should. EKG. Labs. Monitoring.

He moves efficiently, calmly, voice steady as he talks the patient through everything. You pass by once, glance in, and see everything under control, so you keep moving. He’s got this. He’s not alone either, he has Trinity and Robby. 

But even with all the help, the patient still crashes. 

While the patient was quick to get here, the appendicitis had gone too long untreated, and he had succumbed to it. Everyone held a moment of silence for the patient, then tried to clean the room for another. 

It wasn’t until about 30 minutes later that a few of you realized the obnoxious intern was not…here. 

“Where’s Ogilvie?” Robby asked, looking around the room. All of you shrugged, you included. “Go find him.” He says, pointing to you. 

You nod, and as soon as Robby turns his back, you look at Trinity, Cassie, and Perlah, raising your arms in a ‘what?’ gesture and giving them a ‘wtf why me’ before going off to find wherever the overachiever went. 

It was warmer outside than in, and you let out a breath as you looked around the ambulance bay. 

“Ogilvie?” But there’s no answer. You shrug, figuring, “Hey, good enough”, and turn to walk back inside. But over the potted plants near the sliding doors, you see a head of blond curls peeking through the greenery. “Ogilvie?” You say again. 

But he’s quiet. He looks like he’s trying to shrink away. Like, if he stays small enough, he won’t exist at all.

You step closer now. “James?” He finally looks up at you, and you realize that he’s been…crying. He’s been crying. Why has he been crying? “What’s wrong? Why are you out here? And why are you crying?” you ask, softer now. 

He doesn’t answer, he just keeps looking at you. It looks like he doesn’t even know why he’s crying. He doesn’t even know what crying is. He seems as though he’s waiting for you to tell him what this is, whatever he’s feeling. What to do with it, how to fix it.

You hesitate, just for a second, before you decide to sit down beside him. You notice the surgical gown that he hasn’t taken off yet is covered in blood. The concrete is cold through your scrubs, and somewhere behind you, ambulance doors slam.

Neither of you speaks for a long moment; there’s just the sound of his uneven breathing. 

“You can’t save everyone, y’know? I learned that the hard way.” 

“I didn’t know what to do.” His voice is quiet. It sounds like it took too much from him to even say that.

You sigh. “You did,” you say gently. “You handled it. It was a tough case—”

“I thought if I just—” he exhales shakily. “If I did everything Robby said, it would be fine.” He swallows hard. His hands curl slightly against each other. “Can you just…” he starts, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me what I should’ve done?”

The question lands right in your hands. Your instinct is immediate. Answer him. Fix it. Fix how he’s feeling, give him something solid to hold onto. But you stop. Because now you see it. The way he’s been leaning on you all day without you even realizing it.

He likes you. A lot. Probably more than just an intern and an R2, whatever an R2 can mean to someone like him. You already know he wants any attention he can get, to be praised and told he did a great job. But you can’t give that to him, you don’t want to give in. You want him to figure this out for himself this time. As you said, you can’t save everyone who comes through those doors. 

You shake your head. “No.”

He flinches at your answer. Confusion replaces the sadness, just for a second. “What? Why?”

You take a breath. “Because you do know what to do, James.”

He shakes his head and laughs ruefully. “I didn’t—”

“You did,” you interrupt, softer this time. “You followed Robby’s orders, right? Sometimes that’s all we can do.”

He shakes his head, frustration creeping in. “If you had been there—”

“No.” This time, your voice is more firm. “You can’t keep doing this,” you say quietly. “You can’t wait for someone else to tell you how to do your job. Most of the time, you’re figuring it out as you go.” His shoulders tense, and his gaze drops again. “I’m not always going to be there. And as I said, we can’t promise everyone we will save them.”

For a second, you think he’s going to shut down again. Retreat back into that quiet, unreachable place of his. But thankfully, he doesn’t. “I just didn’t want to mess it up. It….” He exhales before continuing. “It sucks to mess up.” 

“Hey,” you say, softer now. He doesn’t look at you, so you nudge his shoulder, gently. “Hey. Look at me.” He does, but he’s reluctant. “You’re allowed to mess up,” you tell him. “It’s your first day still, mind you.” 

He frowns immediately, like the concept is foreign to him. “Not like that.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Even like that.” He shakes his head; he doesn’t believe you. You exhale slowly. “James… you don’t have to get everything right just to be good at this.” You soften your voice even more. “You don’t have to earn anything.”

That’s all you say. You two both go back to staying silent, listening to the sounds of the city. The far-off police sirens howling, car horns honking, people on break chatting away as they walk by, coffee in hand. 

You debate asking your next question, but you had always appreciated it when Dana or Mateo asked. You suck in a breath, looking at Ogilvie, who is still staring at the ground. You do have to admit to yourself that he’s kind of cute. “Do you want to get a drink after shift? I mean,” you add, a little quieter now, “you don’t have to. I just thought it might help. It always helps me.” 

He studies your face. You watch his eyes move around as you look back at him. You look at his own eyes before dropping down to his lips and then back up again. He seems like he’s trying to figure out what the right answer is, so you add: “You can say no.”

That seems to snap him out of whatever hypnosis he’s in because he replies, “…Why would I?” he asks, genuinely.

A small, breathy laugh escapes you. “Just…think about it,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “Slow down before answering right away.” 

You grab your bag from the locker room, rolling your shoulders as you step out into the cool evening air.

The sky is dim, washed in a muted blue-gray that sits just before full dark. The world doesn’t know what just happened inside those walls, and you like it. You always try to separate your home and work life, but now it’s sort of blending as you see Ogilvie. 

You spot him a few feet away. He’s standing near the edge of the parking lot, hands shoved awkwardly into his jacket pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he’s not entirely sure what to do with himself. He looks… out of place. Not in scrubs anymore, not actively working, just standing there, waiting.

For you.

“You still up for that drink?” you ask as you approach.

He straightens almost immediately, as the sound of your voice pulls him back into reality. 

“Yeah,” he says quickly. Then, softer, like he’s correcting himself, “—yeah. If you are.”

You nod toward the street. “There’s a place a couple blocks down. Nothing fancy.”

“That’s fine,” he says, falling into step beside you without another question.

The walk is quiet, but it’s not uncomfortable. He asks a question every now and then, and you, being you, answer every time. The city hums around you in low, distant sounds—cars passing, the murmur of people further down the street, the occasional flicker of neon from half-lit storefronts.

Ogilvie keeps his hands in his pockets the whole time.

His shoulders brush yours once, just barely, and he shifts immediately, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to take up that much space.

You obviously notice, but you don’t say anything. You’re testing the waters as well, doing this. 

The bar you arrive at is small. A dimly lit interior spills out onto the sidewalk, warm yellow light cutting through the cool evening air. The sign above the door flickers faintly, and inside, the noises are low. There are soft conversations all around, the clink of glasses, muted music humming somewhere beneath it all.

It’s not crowded, but there are certainly a lot of people here. 

“This okay?” you ask, glancing at him.

He nods. “Yeah. It’s good.” There’s something almost relieved in his voice. Inside, the air is warmer. It smells faintly of alcohol and wood polish. The lighting is low enough that you can see, but it takes your eyes a few seconds to adjust. You catch a booth in the far corner that’s free, so you motion towards it. 

You slide into it, your back to the wall behind you, as James slides into the other that’s facing you. “What do you want?” you ask, glancing over at him.

He blinks, the question catching him off guard. “Uh…whatever you’re getting is fine.”

You tilt your head slightly. “That’s not how this works.” There’s the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of your mouth. “Pick something.”

He looks at the menu like it’s more complicated than it should be, like there’s a right answer hidden somewhere between the lines. “…Tequila?” he says finally, uncertain.

“That works,” you nod, standing up and stepping out of the booth. “I’ll go get us a bottle of Tequila and two shot glasses. Maybe some limes while we’re at it. I’ll be back.” You give him a small smile and a squeeze on his shoulder. 

You ask the bartender for two glasses and a full bottle, giving him the money and making your way back over to your quaint little booth. You pour some for Ogilvie and then yourself, counting down the first shot as you knock it back. 

It goes down easier for you, not as easily for James. The burning sensation crawls down your throat, and it’s just enough to make you feel a little better about today. Across from you, James coughs slightly after his, his shoulders tensing before he exhales, a little surprised.

“Okay?” you ask, amused.

“Yeah,” he says quickly, clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s—yeah.”

You huff a quiet laugh before pouring more liquid into the two shot glasses and knocking it back again. James handles it a little better this time around. “So,” you say, resting your elbow on the table, your chin propped lightly in your hand. “Do you always do that?”

He blinks. “Do what?”

“Look at me like you’re waiting for something.”

His face flushes almost immediately. It creeps up from his collar to his cheeks, quick and unmistakable. “I don’t—” he starts, then stops. “I mean—I didn’t realize I was—”

“You were,” you say, not unkindly. “All day.” 

He looks down at the bar, fingers brushing lightly against the rim of his glass. “Sorry.”

You reach out without really thinking about it, and your hand lands lightly on his forearm. Warm and solid. It makes him still instantly. “Hey,” you say, softer now. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

He glances up at you, clearly thrown off—not just by the words, but by the contact. You can feel it under your hand, the way his muscles tense, the way he seems to freeze for a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “You don’t have to apologize for everything,” you add.

He swallows. His gaze flickers—not away, but down, just briefly, like he’s aware of how close you are now. Of your hand still resting on him.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “No more apologizing.” 

You don’t move your hand right away, and you don’t really want to. There’s something about him like this—flustered, a little overwhelmed, trying so hard to get it right even now—that pulls at you in a way you weren’t expecting.

You pull your hand back eventually, letting it drop to the table, fingers brushing against your own glass. “Another?” you ask.

He nods. By the third shot, there’s a looseness to him now, a slight delay in his reactions, like he’s not filtering himself as carefully. His shoulders aren’t as tight. His posture isn’t as rigid.

And when he looks at you, it lingers, just a little longer than before. You notice. Of course you do.

“You’re staring,” you say lightly, a hint of a smile tugging at your mouth. His eyes widen slightly.

“I—no, I wasn’t—I mean—”

“You were,” you interrupt, softer this time.

He huffs out a small, nervous breath. Then, after a second, he responds with “…Sorry. You’re just…really pretty.” 

You laugh. You actually laugh this time. And without thinking, you reach out again, your hand brushing his arm this time. “James.” You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “You know,” you say, voice dipping just a little, “you’re allowed to look at me.” Your gaze drops briefly to his mouth.

When you look back up, he’s already looking at you, and there’s something new in it. Something that wasn’t there before. You lean in, just a fraction. It’s not enough to cross the line, but it’s certainly enough to make heat start to curl in your stomach and between your thighs.

Your hand lifts again, this time settling more deliberately against his shoulder, your fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt. And the best part of all of this is that he lets you do it. He’s so willing in this situation. Always so willing. 

Your heart kicks a little harder in your chest because suddenly, it’s not about whether you can, it’s more about whether you should.

“James,” you murmur.

His name sounds different like this. You like the name, James. It suits him. “Yeah?” he breathes. He’s looking at you as if you asked—

But you stop the thought before it can continue as your mind remembers Trinity’s voice echoing in your head. You realize he’d let you ruin his life if you asked nicely, right? Your grip on his shoulder softens. You don’t pull away, but you don’t close the distance either. Instead, your thumb brushes lightly against him, against the collar of his throat, and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in response. 

You smile—just a little. “Slow down,” you say quietly.

He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “What?” he asks, a little dazed. 

You chuckle. “Nothing,” you say, leaning back just slightly, enough to give him space. “Just… don’t let me make all your decisions tonight, okay?”

“‘M’not.” He says, shaking his head. “I promise.” 

“If you say so.” You release his shirt, and he slumps back against the booth. 

The night stretches as you keep pouring the Tequila. You’ve moved from sitting across from him to sitting next to him now. You look at him while he talks, your face resting in your hand that leans on the table. 

Every time he tries to make eye contact with you, he sees you’re already looking at him, so his eyes go back to the wall or the window or just something else that’s not you. You clearly make him nervous. 

And he’s cute when he’s nervous. Really cute. It’s not just the alcohol talking. 

Your foot finds his leg under the table, and you begin to move it up and down, slowly. You watch as he stumbles over his words, his hand going to your thigh. But then you’re quick to pull your shoe away, and he looks more sad than he was in the ambulance bay. 

He leans in to kiss you, but you stop him, shaking your head. “Mmm. Keep talking. I like listening.” You tell him, and he nods, continuing with his story about something stupid he did as a teenager that was a dare from his friends. 

Your hand goes to his thigh, and you look up at him. He’s biting his lower lip and looking up towards the ceiling. He won’t look at you. 

“Tell me if this is not okay, okay?” You tell him, reaching your free hand up to grab his chin, forcing him to look down at you. 

“Mhm.” He nods vigorously. 

“Words.” You reply. 

“O-okay.” He tells you. 

You smile, nodding. “Good. Keep going.” You lean into him as he begins to talk once more, and you press your lips against the side of his throat. At the same time, your hand slides higher, and you hear him choke. Your lips curl into another smile against his skin, and you go even higher, reaching the top of his jeans. 

“Is this okay?” You ask him, breaking away from him for a moment. “Shit. I should’ve asked before this but are you clean?” 

“Yes and yes.” He says, looking as though he’s in bliss and you’ve barely touched him. One of his hands finds yours and slowly begins to guide it between his thighs. He’s breathing fast, his chest moving up and down quickly as he continues to slowly move your hand along. 

When you finally make contact with the bump of his jeans, he lets out an audible sigh and a ‘fuck’. His shoulders shake as he lets out a small, humorless laugh. It’s more like a breath of relief as he pulls down his fly, and you sneak your hand underneath the fabric of his boxers. 

He’s heavy in your hand as you grasp him, and above you, James gasps as your stomach twists with butterflies. “Good. I am too. Shhhh.” You have to tell him, trying to remind him that you are both still in a bar. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He apologizes. Your thumb comes up to swipe over his tip, and his knee makes contact with the table, and it makes you laugh, burying your face into his neck. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologized again, and you shook your head. 

“It’s okay. But if you want me to keep going, I think we should leave here.” 

He just nods, scrambling to re-button his pants and make sure you two both look like you didn’t just give the start of a hand job, before you guys walk out of the small bar. 

The walk back to your apartment feels like the slowest thing in the world. You’re both walking side by side, obviously, on the sidewalk as you reach for his hand. He lets you take it, but he’s hesitant about it still. 

He doesn’t touch you in any way besides that. He still has a hard-on in his pants, and you’re trying your best to quickly get back home to finish this up, but you’re both still slightly stumbling and bumping into each other. 

Which is why you’re so incredibly grateful when you finally reach the front door of your brownstone. 

You pull him inside, immediately connecting his lips with yours, and kicking the door shut. “Jesus Christ.” You sigh into his mouth, grabbing at his clothes. His hands are still by his side, even though you know he wants this too. “What’s wrong?” You ask, pulling away. You wipe the spit from your lips, your chest heaving. 

“What? Nothing’s wrong.” He pants, moving in to kiss you again, but you stop him with a hand to his chest. 

“You’re not touching me.” You state, plain as day. 

He looks down at his hands. “Oh, I.. ‘cause I didn’t know if you wanted me to. O-or not.” 

“Of course I want you to.” 

“Okay. Okay.” He says, leaning in to try and kiss you again, and this time you let him. You grab his hands too, putting them on your hips. You can feel him shaking and hear his shaky breathing as he exhales. 

“Why’re you so nervous, hm?” You ask him and he honestly doesn’t know. James Ogilvie is not a nervous person. But by god as soon as he gets a pretty girl in front of him…it all goes to shit. He can’t think of any other words except for ‘okay’ and ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’. He thinks about if you would like it if he called you ‘ma’am’ but he doesn’t voice that out loud. 

“Don’t know.” he replies. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be nervous with me.” You smile, trying to make him feel a little more at ease. “Or are you nervous because…you’ve never…are you a virgin?” 

He bites his bottom lip, looking down at you. “Um…I mean, I’ve never…I’ve gotten like…ha-hand jobs before but never…” 

“Oh.” You say, understanding. “Okay, that’s okay. Do you want me to fix that, or would you rather just take it slow?” 

“I want you to fix it. Please?” He begs. And he just begs so nicely that you can’t say no, really. So, you grab him by the hand and lead him to the living room, gently pushing his shoulders, urging him to sit down on the couch. 

You kiss him again, and he whines against your lips as your tongue glides with his. He’s still so hesitant to touch you, and you have to grab his hands again to tell him it’s okay to touch you. 

“James, you can touch me whenever you want. It’s okay.” You reassure him. 

“I know, I know. I-I just…” 

“Do you like it when I tell you what to do?” You ask the question that’s been on your mind all day, even though you absolutely, with no doubt in your mind, know he does. He likes it when anyone tells him what to do. He likes it when he’s praised for doing a good job, he likes it when he’s asked questions he can easily answer, and he even likes it when Trinity says some sort of sarcastic comment towards him because it means at least someone is paying attention to him. 

He nods, looking up at you. His hands rest on your hips, too scared to move them away from where you placed them. 

“Can I tell you something?” You swallow, leaning back. “I think you’re pathetic-”

“So pathetic,” He whispers, his head coming forward to bury itself in your stomach.

“Take your pants off for me, yeah?” You ask him, and you watch as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his fly, his thumbs catching the hem of his pants and ever so slowly pulling the fabric downwards. Your breath stutters as his skin and blond, coarse hair are gradually revealed right in front of your eyes, the hemline making a mouthwatering triangle shape that runs alongside the lines of his Adonis belt. 

“Jesus, Ogilvie.” You whisper, watching the show. You figured he was at least somewhat lean, as he had a tenancy, whether intentional or not, to show off his biceps as he hauled a patient off a stretcher onto an actual bed, or helped Robby restrain someone, etc. But you didn’t know he was this…well…jacked. 

When he stops just at the very base of his cock, it takes you a second to realize he’s waiting for you to tell him to keep going. Your eyes flick down to look at him, slowly running his thumb along the slope of flesh peeking out of the blond curls. 

Oh fuck, how did you even get to this point right now? And why are you so wet already? 

“Keep going.” 

He’s immediately using his other hand to reach inside and shift up just a bit before he eases his cock out of his pants by cupping his balls and letting the fabric hooked in his thumb rest under them before he shuffles the fabric all the way down his legs, resting at his feet. 

He’s already half hard for you, already thick as he carefully lowers himself back down again onto the cushions. He’s pretty. He looks…good. His cock looks really nice. 

God, you want him in your mouth. You have no idea why that’s your first thought. Okay, well, no, that’s not exactly true- you know exactly why that’s your first thought, especially when you can physically see him getting harder and harder right in front of you, watching her trace his fingers down his shaft and lazily brush them over the head. 

“I…do you not want to…do this…anymore?” He asks, out of breath. The head of his cock lies against his stomach. His hands go back to your hips and tighten on them, his breathing subtly picking up.

“What? God, no. I just want to look at you. You’re so pretty.” You settle into his lap, feeling his cock brush against your cunt through your pants. His hands are now on your sides. “Did you know that? And I want to help you forget about today.” You catch the fabric of his shirt near his neck. 

“I’ve been told once or twice.” He says, trying to be funny, but he stops trying when you yank his collar to the side and lick a slow, hot, wet line up his throat. “I…I-fuck- that…you feel good…and…and…I want you to help me forget-” 

His breath catches when you bite down on the thick cord of muscle that connects his neck to his shoulder. He murmurs your name when you reach between the two of you and wrap your hand around his hard cock. 

“I really want to fuck you,” you whisper against his skin, feeling him shudder under your lips as you slowly pull your hand up nd down the thick length of him. “But right now, I think you should lie back and let me suck your cock for a little bit. What do you think?” 

He doesn’t answer with words, but he throbs under your hand, and his body is surprisingly malleable as you urge him to move back more, just enough for you to slip between his already spread enough legs. You keep stroking him the entire time, sucking marks down his neck. 

At one point or another, you decide that his not having his shirt off isn’t sufficient enough, so you reach down and pull it up from the bottom, lifting up up up- up until he does the rest, pulling it over his head and letting it fall somewhere on the floor. 

Your free hand rests gently on his soft abs, and you lean your head up to whisper against his lips, “Will you let me suck your cock, James?” 

“No one’s ever…how do you even know you’ll-” 

“Like it? That’s up for me to decide. You just lean back and take it, okay? I know you like to be told what to do, so shut up and listen, okay?” 

“Okay.” He nods; his back is now right up against the sofa cushions. “Is it- h-how do you- does it always feel this good?” 

“You’re a doctor intern. You tell me. You’re smart enough to figure it out.” You tell him, beginning to slide down his body. 

“I-yeah, yeah, you’re right.” 

The warmth that settles in the pit of your stomach is intensified by the clear drop of precum shining at the tip of his cock, which is now achingly swollen and a shade darker in color than a few seconds ago. “Keep talking,” you whisper. “I like hearing you stutter over your words.” 

And then you slide his head into your mouth and let your tongue flutter gently along his frenulum. Ogilvie instantly goes rigid and grabs a fistful of the couch’s armrest, his back arching a little and his head peering up towards the ceiling. You hum as you taste his precum, slowly brushing your tongue over his tip to see if you can get any more out of him like this without going deeper. 

“Fuck-” he whines while lifting his hips, every muscle in his body tensing under you. “Y-your mouth is- fuck-” he gasps when you gently swirl circles around the pulsing head, his open palm circles around the pulsing head, his open palm coming down hard on the cushion beside him with a dull thud. “-fuck, your mouth is s-so, fe-feels so good.” 

You pop off of him, and he whimpers. He actually whimpers, and that just makes you more delirious with pleasure as you look up at him. He looks down at you at the same time, stomach pushing up and down as he breathes heavily. 

“I’ve barely touched you.” You smile, sliding your hands down to take off his shoes and then his jeans, throwing them somewhere you couldn’t care less about at this moment. You take him back into your mouth, and he moans, jerking forward as you open your jaw and take him down a few inches so he can really feel your throat. You’re satisfied when his head falls back, and his hands go to your hair. 

He’s gentle, so so gentle. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you do get why he’s only had a hand job. He’s not the most friendly person, but he grows on you. Takes a while, but he does. 

You slowly begin bobbing up and down, dragging the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft and getting him nice and wet. His thighs almost feel like stones he’s strained so hard. You can only get around half of him in your mouth without straining for it, so you soon lift off him and start coating your palm and fingers in spit. His head rears immediately, exposed chest heaving as he watches. You never knew he was this big.

“You’re so tense, James,” you murmur, reaching down and starting to jerk him with your slick hand. He doesn’t relax into it; instead, he straightens his back even more, his hips starting to thrust into your grip. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Fuck, no. Please don’t do that. Don’t stop. I just…I want to ple-please you so bad.” He moans, the exact opposite of relaxed. “You-” 

“This is all about you, James.” 

“But I read once that-” he cuts himself off with a groan when you take him back down again, only deeper this time. And then he relents and starts slowly fucking into your mouth, gradually rolling his hips further and further with every thrust. One hand fists itself into the blanket while the other holds your hair back as you open your throat and work the rest of his length. 

When you take him down as far as you can, and you drop your free hand to cradle his balls, Ogilvie just about loses his mind. 

“C-can I fuck you? At some point? Pl-please?” He starts rasping at the ceiling. “Please, l-let me please you too? I-I want to make you feel go-good too, like you’re doing to me…” 

You hold there and swallow around his thick cock, letting your other hand slither down between your own legs and start rubbing your clit. Thank god you were wearing an easy pair of pants that you could slip your hand into. He probably can’t see you do it from this angle, but it feels so much better this way, regardless, having him as far down as your throat as possible and listening to him babble while you touch yourself. 

The sound you make pulling off him to breathe isn’t necessarily the most attractive thing in the world, but with the way he groans and tugs your hair gently in response, you’d think it was the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. You keep jerking this throbbing cock and rubbing circles around your lit, before moving down to take one of his balls into your mouth. 

His grip tightens, along with the soft skin under your tongue. “W-wait, wait, wait, stop, st-stop I don’t-” 

You look up at him. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and everything about him is unbearably stiff, even with the way his body is sprawled out, and his chest rocks up and down with exertion. You obviously pull off of him again, not wanting to go against his wishes and continue. 

It might be too much for him, seeing as this is his first time getting head, and he might need a break. That or he doesn’t want to continue anymore. Which in that case, you’ll help him clean up and make sure he’s okay. 

“S-sorry, I just- I was-” he gasps, “I wa-I was about to cum-” 

“I want you to cum,” you murmur, blinking up at him and dragging your tongue up the length of his swollen, throbbing cock. “That’s why I’m doing this.” 

“I didn’t know if I- if I was allowed to.” 

“You what?” You ask, spitting on him. 

“If I ha-had to ask. I know some girls don’t like it.” 

“You don’t have to ask me, Ogilvie.” But suddenly it comes clearer to you. He loves asking. He wants to ask if he has permission to cum for you. You look at his face, and your lips spread into a smile. “Ohhhh. You like asking, don’t you?” And he nods in response. “What did I say about words?” 

“Yes. Yes, I like asking.” 

You get another idea too and decide to push him. “Yes, what?” 

“Y-yes…ma’am?” 

“There you go.” You kiss his thighs, and it makes him whine. “I want you to cum for me, okay?” 

“Okay.” He whines, nodding as you start to gently suck on his tip and look up at him innocently after telling him you want to swallow his load. Maybe he could’ve stopped the way his balls suddenly pull up tight, the way his grip on your hair turns to steel, and his head rolls to the side. 

There’s a subtle shift of his head too, and you finally know that he can see your hand moving between your legs. You can tell because he makes a sort of sob/choking sound and his stomach flexes. 

“O-oh fuck. I’m cumming, I-I’m gonna cum.” He warns you, and then he’s cumming down your throat exactly like you wanted. There’s a second between the moment of detonation and the explosive result of it. It’s just enough time for him to slowly tilt his chin up and let out the smallest, quietest moan you’ve heard from him this whole night before his cock starts throbbing on your tongue, his balls working to steadily pump cum up his shaft. 

You pull up a little bit, swirling circles around his head as the first spurt hits your tongue, moaning at the taste of him, which makes him hoarsely whine your name. You swallow everything he gives you until he’s trembling on your couch. 

You suck on him a little longer after that, and just look at how stunning his body is exposed and spread out for you on the couch like this. “If-if you keep doing that, I’m go-gonna get hard again,” he eventually tells you, his voice coming out sounding like sandpaper in his throat. 

You hum and finally pull off of him. “You like overstimulation too, huh?” You lean down and bite at his hipbone, which has him jerking in response. 

“Is it that obvious?” He asks you, smiling a little as you crawl back up his frame into his lap. 

“Can I test it?” 

“Can I eat you out first?” 

“You still want to? I figured you’d be a little too tired.” You push some of his curls out of his face. 

“God no,” he shakes his head, looking at you still in your clothes. “Please, can I eat you out? Please? Please, please, please,” he begs you, kissing your neck. 

“Yeah, baby.” You nod, your hands tangling into his hair before he’s standing both of you up. 

“Can we go to your bedroom…or is that off limits?” he jokes, and you laugh a little. 

“No, it’s not off limits. Come on.” 

You hear yourself take one shaky breath as you stand, grabbing his hand and guiding him behind you to the last door in the hallway to the right. You don’t get too far into the room before he’s closing the door and pushing you up against it. He kisses you and moans when he tastes himself on your tongue. 

“Could you take off your shirt?” He whispers, his hands coming down to the hem of it. He’s gotten bolder with his handling. You nod, and he slowly lifts your shirt, his fingertips grazing your skin, which makes you shudder in response. “Pants too?” He asks, and you nod. 

Once your shirt is thrown off, he drops to his knees and begins to take off your pants along with your underwear. He presses his lips to your hipbone, and you groan. He looks up at you with his brown eyes, and you have to bite your lip to suppress a moan. 

“Don’t tease me. I didn’t tease you.” 

“I’m not teasing,” he says, kissing the tops of your thighs. “I would never tease you.” 

That’s when he finally makes contact with your cunt, and you hiss. You look down at him, your hand tangled in his curls, as a soft, dexterous heat slowly envelopes your clit. It nearly hurts with how good it feels. You were so focused on giving Ogilvie pleasure that you didn’t realize just how pent up you were. The noise you make is indescribable in its obscenity. His mouth is a furnace, a slick furnace between your folds, and his tongue comes out like velvet to flutter gently over your clit, humming low in his throat as he tastes you for the first time. 

This feels amazing. It feels like heaven, having him on his knees like this for you. He knows as much about you as you do about him, which is absolutely nothing, as this is his first month in the ER as an intern. But you both now know the taste of each other’s pleasure, which has to count for something. 

“James…oh, fuck-” Your words are barely discernible. His fingers curl against your thighs, his tongue starting to swirl gentle circles around your swollen clit. Your hips almost feel like they’re doing too much to seek out more pleasure, rutting against his mouth. But he seems to like it, moaning each time it happens. And he keeps his eyes on you the entire time. “I thought you said you were a virgin.” You ask him, but it’s not really a question, more of a statement. 

Part of you doesn’t want him to answer, because that means he’ll have to stop whatever he’s doing with his mouth to give you this much pleasure. “I am,” he says, licking his lips. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t read a book or two to know what most women like. Can I use my fingers?” 

You nod, out of breath. “Yeah. Use your fingers.” And you nearly combust as he sinks two of his fingers deep inside your cunt. “Oh-f-fuck-” You can’t tell if the short, rough little growl he makes into your warmth is from the way your fingers feel tugging on his hair or the way you feel clamped around his own, but it still rocks down your spine and sparks lightning deep inside nonetheless. It doesn’t matter, because he pulls them out and then pushes them back in again, doing it steadily over and over, until you’re sweating, hips arching in presentation. 

He continues to lick his hot tongue through your folds and finger fuck you, so utterly slow and steadfast that you’re so close to just completely pulling him back up to his feet and riding him until he’s past the point of tears. 

You feel something wicked beginning to burn in your core, spreading along the muscles in your pelvis. It rises up through your abdomen like high tide, seeps down into your knees, and wraps around them. Your breathing gets more shallow.

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, everything inside you quickly pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving, and your grip in his hair turning to iron. “-oh fuck, James, I’m g-gonna cum- I-” 

But then his mouth leaves you at the same time his fingers do, and there’s a split-second delay in his rhythm before both his mouth and his fingers come back- only his fingers feel a bit slicker than they did moments before. 

Something about it hits you just right, settles down low, and locks your hips in position. “Yes, fuck right there, right there!” 

A quiet whine rumbles low in his throat, and then he takes a second to softly suck on your clit as if he could pull it out of you that way. His fingers curl, press up hard against something that almost makes your knees buckle, and you have to stifle a yelp when your body suddenly erupts in searing hot pleasure above him. 

Your back arches away from the door, and a white light flashes, your thighs going rigid and your pussy flooding itself between your legs. You shatter, cumming in his mouth, wailing his name while he moans and whines raggedly and drags you through it. It’s hot and wet, and everything feels like it’s not important, just you and everything he’s giving to you. 

Things slowly return to you one by one; his tongue still fluttering against your clit, the angle of his fingers still touching that spot within you. The solid weight of him between your knees helps to somewhat ground you, and you realize that your fingers are clamped tight in his hair. 

You loosen up your grip on his scalp, and he slowly pulls out of your swollen heat and holds your thighs open with wet fingers, pausing to give your sensitive clit a few more gentle sucks, and only lets go once you tap on his head to stop. 

You’re still trying to calm your breathing when he stands and kisses your face all over before pressing his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on him as you feel his fingers fumble with your bra clip. 

He takes it off successfully and drops it to the ground. You notice that he’s moving his hips against your thigh, groaning quietly to himself. You watch him rub his hardening cock against your skin, and his head slowly tips back at the sensation. 

“Wi-will you let me- ju-just for a second, let me put it in? Ngh- righ-right now?” His breathing stutters, hips beginning to rock against yours. “Let me-f-feel you?” 

For being such an asshole, he becomes such a pleaser when he’s rubbing his hard cock against you, doesn’t he? You don’t even respond, just desperately start moving off and away from the door towards your bed. His exhale is shaky as he follows, his hands grasping at your hips. 

God dammit, you never thought sex with Ogilvie could feel this good. You and Trinity, as well as Victoria, a little bit, all made bets on who is the best in bed. Of course, it was just between the three of you; it never went any further than that. Occasionally, Dennis would join in, but that was it. 

You had told them all that you know for an absolute fact that Jack Abbott and Cassie McKay were the best in bed. Parker Ellis, too, and Emery Walsh. Trinity said there was no way Dr. McKay was good in bed, as she hadn’t had any tail since Chad. Trinity voted for Yolanda and, against her better judgment, Langdon. But you told her Yolanda doesn’t count, as she knows Yolanda is good in bed. 

Dennis said Dana looks like she’d be good, and Robby, too. Victoria said Langdon as well as Cassie. 

But all four of you agreed strongly that there’s no way with that attitude and know-it-all behavior, Ogilvie was good in bed. God, were you so wrong. 

The bed is soft underneath you, and it doesn’t take long for Ogilvie to follow suit. “Shit,” he huffs, breaking away from you. “I-I don’t know..” 

“What to do? Yeah, I know.” You said before switching positions, so you’re now on top. “I’ll show you. That’s what good R2’s do, right?” You bury your face into his neck and reach your hand down between you two, stroking his cock again. He sucks in a deep breath, his body jerking when you grab onto his cock and downright purr into the crook of his neck when you find him rock hard and throbbing. 

“R-right ma’am.” He whines. 

You move so you’re hovering slightly above him, your legs on either side of him. Your hips move forward, engulfing the hard underside of him between your slick, swollen lips. His entire body shudders at the blazing heat of you, and he grits a curse when you gradually begin to move back and forth along the thick length of him.

“Such a good boy.” You whisper, your hands coming to press down on his shoulders as your hips drag against his, sliding his cock through your drenched slit, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. “You still okay? I’m on birth control, so I’m just going to-” 

“Ye-yes. I’m still okay-” He gasps, tilting his head to give you more room and hands coming down to clamp tight over your hips, “fuck, I’m- I’m so good. Please do it. I do-don’t care.” 

“Good,” you breathe into the crook of his neck, grinding your pussy against his throbbing cock. You gasp, tightening your hold around him as your clit drags over his thick erection. “Such a good listener, too. When you want to be.” 

“Fuck, thank you,” he whines, slowly tipping his head back. “Please, please don’t tease me. I’ve been go-good, lik-like you said.” 

“I know,” you whine too, rolling your hips along his body. 

“You-” James cuts himself off abruptly with a groan, his grip turning to steel on your hips. “I’ll always listen to you.” His fingers dig into your hips so hard, you’re forced to immediately stop gliding your pussy over him. One of your hands moves to clamp down over his shoulder while the other threads through the thick locks at the base of his neck. You pull your hips up and tilt them just a bit, just enough to position the tip of his cock at your entrance. 

You bite his neck and slowly start to sink onto him. He lets out a choked cry as you shove your cunt the rest of the way down his thick cock and then further, pressing him up so far inside you with such a chaotic movement that he lets out a sob next to your ear. 

Fuck, he hits amazingly sweet from this angle. He stretches you and fills you spectacularly, forces you to yield to him while you breathe heavy through your nose, wondering how dark a bruise he’ll have on his neck from your bites and kisses. 

Ogilvie likes it, though. You can tell. His hand comes up to the back of your neck, silently asking you to lean down and kiss him while you gradually begin to pull your hips up, clamp down around him as hard as you can, and slowly drag his thick cock out of your cunt. He likes this. He likes feeling your teeth in his neck while you start to fuck yourself on him. 

“Oh my god,” he nearly spits, his hand squeezing your thigh hard enough to leave a mark. You honestly should’ve given him a moment to adjust to you, to feel you, but you had completely forgotten this was his first time from the way he had made you cum seconds earlier. “F-fuck this is- god this feels amazing- ho-holy fuck.” 

You whimper, also thinking how good it feels. How the head of his cock is pushed up tight against your G-spot, spreading wildfire in your lower belly and seeping through your pelvis and into your upper thighs. You just started, and it’s already becoming a hassle for you. But fuck, you grind the head of his cock slowly and hard inside you and try not to dig your nails into his arms where your fingers are clutching tight. 

“Is this what you think about wh-when you look at me at work like that?” You whisper, already half out of your mind with the aching bliss, saying whatever the fuck comes into your head first and not thinking anything past it. “When I guide your hands on a patient or when I praise you for getting a diagnosis right, hm?” 

“Yes, yes god yes!” He sobs, his hips jerking up into yours almost unintentionally with the sentiment. “Oh, my god.” 

“And will you be thinking of this?” you moan, starting to move as best you can with his thrusts. His fingers are scraping down your back, the pleasure obviously being too much for him. It just adds to the slowly building pleasure inside you until it’s simmering and burning under your skin. “The next time I tell you ‘good save’ or when I guide your hands again? I bet you will. You really are that pathetic, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He cries, but it’s way too breathless. “I-I’m not gonna last- I ca-an’t-” 

You can hear how wet you are. Your pussy is nearly drowning him now, slick and hot and drenched as you roll your hips up and down on top of him. “Does me talking like that turn you on?” You murmur, breathing hot air onto his neck and riding his cock slow and steady. 

He can’t make any sounds anymore. No more words come from his mouth as your hand comes up to dig into his cheeks, forcefully opening his mouth. Only moans and whines grace your ears. 

You watch as his stomach tenses up again, and you know he’s about to cum. You lift off of him and delight in his confused reaction. “Wha-what? Why’d you do that? I was so close, please! Are you kidding me-”

He cuts himself off with a grunt as you slowly sink back onto him. Your cunt tightens around him, and the power trip you’re experiencing from this is starting to get to your head, you fear. You feel brash. Reckless and bold, and it translates into a quicker pace of your hips, shoving down onto him at the apex of his thrusts upwards and hitting a spot inside you that he had somehow found with his fingers as well. 

“Answer my question,” you pant, still holding his jaw. 

“What que-question?” God, he’s so drunk on you, he can’t even remember what you had asked of him. 

“Does it turn you on? To hear me talking like that? Calling you pathetic for following me around all day like a little lost puppy? Do you rub one out in the bathroom after each shift with me?” 

“You’re- fuck-” He drags his nails down your arms, leaving marks. “You’re asking if it…if it tu-turns me on to hear you tell me what a good job I did?” 

“I us-used to think about it,” You gasp, your eyes squeezing shut and just trying to breathe through it. “Some-sometimes. I knew it got to you in a different way than it would just from being praised normally. Used to get off thinking about it. Used to think about you, like this, and touch myself and make myself cum on the floor of my apartment.” 

The sound he makes is one you haven’t heard yet. You watch as his face contorts into pleasure and he begins to tell you he’s about to cum again. You slip off of him once more, and he fully whines this time. It turns into a string of curse words as he nearly sobs into the air and desperately claws at you. 

You finally decide to let him cum once you know he won’t automatically do it as you slip him back inside you. Your hips don’t give his cock time to realize that he’s back inside of you as you just begin moving at a rapid pace. Your thighs hurt, they’re on fire, but the sounds coming from him make your motivation skyrocket. 

He full-on fucking sobs now, his chest heaving as he cries. You look down at him, and he looks beautiful, really. He looks so fucking good as he cries for you, whining and whimpering and sobbing your name as you move on him. 

It’s fucking debilitating. It’s madness. The pleasure flowing through both of you feels like you’re about to explode. You just dig your nails into his shoulders and listen as he cries brokenly for you at the ceiling, letting his hips collide roughly with yours as you fuck him down hard into the mattress of your bed. 

Your mouth is at his neck as you grit the words darkly against his throat. “Fuck, you’re amazing. You’re so good. Such a good boy, listening to me, doing exactly what I tell you to do.” 

“I’m-” He gasps, eyes screwed up so tight you don’t notice the tear slipping down his cheek. You lean down to lick it. “It’s ca-cause I like you.” 

“Fuck- of course you do. All those longing looks from across the nurse’s station while I talk to Trinity. You think I didn’t notice those? You’re not as bright as you say you are, are you? Hm?” Fuck, he’s hard and throbbing, and he probably can barely hear you over the sound of his crying, so fucking close to the edge and begging for you. “If you want me that bad, next time take me to the bathroom and beg me to get on my knees for you.” 

You shift your weight so you can use one of your hands to grab his and lead it down between your legs. “Come on, Ogilvie. Come on. I know you can do it. Make me cum, and I’ll let you cum too, m'promise.” You feel like you can’t even breathe anymore. “Does that sound good?” 

“Ye-yes.” He wails, beginning to rub tight circles over your clit and pounding directly into your G-spot with such precision and force, your eyes roll back, and white-hot pleasure licks its way up your spine. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, James,” you whisper, your voice frantic and rushed and breathless as your hands plant themselves on either side of his head. Everything inside you suddenly pulls up sharp and burning, and you’re already starting to bear down on him, starting to slowly squeeze his cock and tighten down hard in preparation for it. “I’m gonna cum, James, you-you’re gonna make me cum-” 

He begins to babble, but you don’t hear him. Everything is suddenly drowned out by the roaring of blood rushing through your ears, your body locking down so fucking tight around him. Ogilvie keeps going as your orgasm slams through you with such force that your voice cracks. He rubs at your clit and makes sure with the right amount of pressure for you, which forces you even higher through the explosive pleasure and muttering filth about how gorgeous you are, how he’ll never stop looking at you across the Nurse’s station, how he wants to make you cum so many more times, but he can’t hold it back- 

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, please can I cum?! Please? Please, I’ve been good this who-whole time, please,” he cries and whimpers, stuttering to a halt inside you. You can feel him swollen and throbbing hard inside you now that he’s still. Can I- can I cu-cum inside you? Please? Oh fuck, please? I can’t, I can’t hold it anymore, I can-” 

“Yes,” you gasp, not needing anything else. “Please.” He can cum wherever the fuck he wants to. His body jolts with pleasure beneath you, and a sob tears itself from his throat as he immediately does as he’s told. He cums, spurting thick ropes of his warmth inside you and gasping out curses and thank you’s. 

His entire body is spasming as it happens, and you hear him whimper your name as he lets go. When Ogilvie’s body finally stops shaking, and he slows down your movements with his hands on your hips, you wait a few seconds before asking.

“What the fuck have we just done?” 

"Come in and face the wall." A stern voice speaks. It sends chills down his spine. He obeys the order and opens the door. He walks straight in and keeps his eyes on the wall.

"Mm, you sure are handsome~" A sultry voice comes from behind him. You were behind the door. You slam it shut behind him. "Such a heavy jacket, and boots" He feels a hand press against his back dragging down his back, "You ride?"

"A motorcycle." He states. He turns his head but you hand grabs his neck keeping his head straight.

"Mhm. What else do you like to ride? Plastic? Wood? Silicone?"

"I've never ridden anything like that before." He clears his throat.

"That's okay. That's what I'm here for; to learn what you want." You smile, "And you don't want that though, do you?"

He shakes his head. Your hands move across his back and to the front of his stomach, "You want attention? Want someone to touch you?"

His breath shakes, "Yes, please Missy~"

"You're already catching on." You giggle, "Are you sure this isn't your first time?"

"How'd you know it was?"

"Missy is my intro. My clients pick their name for me. Whatever they want. Whatever you want" You spin him around. You're wearing a volto mask that covers your entire face. "Unzip your jacket and take off your shoes."

He obeys. Your voice was strong and sultry under the mask. He could still hear you clearly. It made his cock jump. Once the articles of clothes are off, you continue to analyze him. "What do you want out of this? Sit down." You command.

He sits down and rubs his hands on his pants nervously, "I, uh, I like hurting?"

"Hurting or be hurt? There is a difference and for one of those things you're in the wrong place." You sit in from of him on a chair. You fold you legs and pick your nails.

"Be hurt." He corrects himself. Your disinterest was turning him on. "Whipping, choking, spanking… crushing."

You tilt your head in interest, "You like to be stepped on?" He nods as he stares at your shoes. Stiletto boots with a 5 inch heel. "These do it for you, huh? I bet you'd like to rub against them too." He nods again. His breath hitches at the thought. "God, you're practically begging for it right now. Come on, get on the floor and beg. Will you be a good dog and beg?"

Robby immediately falls to his knees from the couch and whines, "Please. Please step on me." His cock was aching against the seam of his pants. You stretch one foot out, "Like a dog, lick it clean first." He kisses the toe of the shoe. He drags his tongue along the sides. He follows the vinyl material up to you knee. You pressed a glove finger against his forehead stopping him , "Shoe only. No skin." You put pressure on his forehead pushing him back down your leg.

"Yes Mistress."

"You really do catch on quick, like an obedient little puppy."

His cock jumps at the nickname. He continues making out with your shoe. He swipes his tongue along the sides and sucks the top of it. He grabs your leg and moves your heel so the ball of your foot rested between his legs. Gently, you begin to apply pressure to his crotch. Robby lets out a guttural moan and pushes back against your foot. His cheek rubs against the side of your knee as he continues to grind against your foot.

Every so often you'll apply some pressure. Something to make his cock jump a little. He whimpers with every sensation. "You got a name, puppy."

"Puppy~ just keep calling me Puppy." He groans. He's rutting against your foot now, growing closer.

"Okay, what else are you into, Puppy?"

"I don't know yet." His moans get hugger as he feels his orgasm approaching.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."

BDSM, orgasm denial, breath play, cock cages, muzzles, collars, overstimulation, wax play, clips, blind folds, voyeurism, puppy play and much more. Robby has explored his deepest desires with you. A complete stranger whom he's never seen the face of knew all his dirty secrets.

How he liked to be bossed around and punished and praised. His desire to fulfill and be fulfilled. To be hit and be healed. Your voice was enough to do him in.

"What a good boy~"

"You take it so well, Puppy"

"Naughty Puppy,"

"Only good boys get a reward. Are you a good boy?"

Every even day of the week and Sundays, he was in your dungeon calling you Mistress and you calling him Puppy. This went on for months. He confided in you. As he begged to cum he would whine about work. After every spanking he'd sniffle about his grievances. However, when the session was over, he'd pay his due and walk out like nothing.

He'd go to work the next day like nothing happened. And you would too. In the same hospital and the same ED. He had no clue who you were. You had met in the dungeon before your first day at the hospital. You were in medical school when you began sex work. You became a dominatrix out of necessity. With no other options, your friend offered you work at a sex club. Then a friend of a friend wanted to film a video together splitting half the earnings. Then a client wanted you to smack him around a little. A steady income began to pour in during rotations. After becoming a resident you would be able to clear your debt with no overdue fees.

You got into the EM residency at The Pitt and felt like it was a step in the right direction. Until you met your boss for the first time. Your boss that came on your shoe the night before. You kept your voice and tone in check. The only thing he could recognize you by. You wore height altering shoes, a corset that changed the shape of your breast and waist. And your demeanor in the dungeon is not one that would be reflected at the bedside of a patient.

Every day and night was an artful representation of the duality of desperation. To keep your identity a secret from your attending for his sanity and to be paid from his salary guilt free.

You had done such a job he never spared you a second glance. For months, he had no idea it was you that was the one keeping him company most nights. Getting him to reach climax every time. Playing out all his fantasies for him.

That was until you had yourself a rather fussy older gentleman as a patient. He wanted to complain about every last thing in the ER. He was becoming unruly with the nurses and was staring to work your last nerve. "Sir, I understand this situation isn't ideal but you're going to have to sit still and keep quiet. Everyone is hurting here, got it?" Robby stood behind the curtain to listen to you manage the situation. The patient nods his head, "I'm sorry."

You point to the nurses, "Apologize to them."

"I'm sorry."

"Good boy." Good boy… good boy… good boy…

Robby's heart rate kicks up at the phrase. He's never had such a reaction at work before. The phrase wasn't that uncommon but hearing it from you sounded familiar. He had it etched in his memory. He valued those words in that dungeon.

You step out of the room and look at Robby with a grin, "Don't worry, it's been handled Dr. Robby." He looks at you like he'd seen a ghost. You look behind in case there was something there was seeing.

"Everything okay?" You step forward.

"Uh yeah, be sure to keep up with charting." He takes a step back, shaking the thoughts from his head. He felt like he was going to be sick. He goes to the restroom to wash his face.

He was planning on going tonight. He was looking forward to it. Now what? His Mistress was his intern. And you said nothing. Why didn't you say anything?!

He takes in a sharp inhale through the nose. "What the fuck."

He comes out of the bathroom to look for you. Where'd you go? At the nurses station, night hand offs were happening. Shit, you've clocked out. Headed to your dungeon, probably. Waiting for him.

Robby had a choice; go and confront you, ruining the beautiful thing you have together or go and blow some pent up steam he had built up.

He finds himself at the door of your room and his breath hitches. You're playing music. Which meant you were still getting dressed. He was ordered to wait for the music to stop playing before he was allowed to enter or else he would be punished. One night, you made him wait a full hour before he was permitted inside. He was on his hands and knees at the door practically humping the floor when music stopped.

He balls up his fist as he waits. He was still debating on confronting you. He didn't want to scare you. Or make you think the worst of him. Like he would hold this against you. He takes a deep breath and raises his fist to knock on the door.

Just as his knuckle hits the wood of the door you swing the door open, "Uh oh, did I just catch you trying to be naughty?" You laugh then grab his hand pulling him into the room. "What do you want to do tonight, Puppy?"

He sits on the couch and rubs his hands together, "Can we just talk for a minute?"

You lean back in your chair and look at him with a more relaxed look in your eyes. "Sure, whatever you want."

"Do you wear your mask with all your clients?" He looks at his rough knuckles.

"I do," You nod, "It protects them as much as it protects me."

He nods, "Would you ever take it off with me?"

Under the mask, you blink multiple times in shock, "You've never seemed to mind the mask before, why now?"

He shrugs, "I want to see you."

You gulp. As a dominatrix, arousal was not something you were shy about. It was a part of sex work but that didn't mean you were attracted to the clients. But this time, the way Robby had just spoken, made your— for lack of a better term— pussy flutter. You clear your throat, "Aren't you seeing me now?" You stand up, "You getting bold with your requests, Puppy. Maybe I've been too soft with you recently."

Robby lets out a soft sigh before getting off the couch, falling to his knees and crawling towards you, "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." He kisses the toe of your shoe, "I'm sorry, Mistress." Robby was a weak man. A very weak and vulnerable man with needs. Very needy needs. And for the sake of those needs, he could keep your secret, that is actually his secret. He kisses the top of your boots. You wore stockings under them but he could feel your supple skin against his lips.

He never noticed before but he could smell the ED on you. Different scents mixed on your skin. The chemical compound in the nitrile gloves, hand sanitizer and the weak hand soap on your hands. On your thigh, was the rich scent of your perfume, a heavy smell of tobacco, sandalwood, and cedar. An earthy smell that he would spend a day inhaling off your body during the early days of your relationship. His crotch presses right up against the toe of your shoe. He looks up at you with pitiful eyes, "I'm a good puppy~ Aren't I?"

"Yes~" Your grab his chin, "You are a good boy." Good boy… good boy… good… boy.

It was you, his R1. You sounded the same with the patient earlier that day. He presses his crotch harder against your foot. You've seen every aspect of him. At work and in this perverse place. You've seen him laugh, cry, get frustrated… You've seen him cum. Hard.

He shudders and lets out a guttural moan. You had moved your foot from under his erect clothed cock and was firmly pressing the ball of your foot into his junk. He pushes back against the sensation. He was so close to cumming now. It was sick… this was sick, right?

"That's it, Puppy~ Make a mess in your pants." You rotate your ankle in a circular motion. He hunches forward picking up his pace. He grabs your thigh and presses his fingers hard into your skin. As he cums, his grasp weakens and his sits on the floor, panting. You can feel the faint impressions still in your skin.

You straighten up, "Really? That's all it took? Goodness, Puppy."

"I had a long day." He catches his breath.

"I bet." You stretch your arm, "Do you want to go another round?"

He shakes his head, "I should probably go." He stands up and adjusts his clothes.

"Sure, I'll see you later." You escort him to the door. He stops himself before opening it and turn around to face you again.

"I'd like to try something."

"Try what?" You ask.

Robby is inches away from you and leans into you, "May I, Mistress?"

You press your finger against his lips and push him away, "Clever. You were trying to lower my guard with your mask question. No mask play, your clause in our contract, Doctor." He chuckles. You had written rules together. A contract to which explained the consensual boundaries of the sessions. One of his rules was no masks. They reminded him of work and he really didn't want to think about it while he was here. The irony of that now.

"Right, sorry." He turns back around and heads out of the door. You watch him leave the basement. You leave a couple hours after he does to get ready for bed to go to work the next day.

Robby wonders how you do it. How do you work a 12 hour shift at the ER then spend a few hours getting him to cum and still be able to function the next day? He watches you walk with no waiver. No sign of exhaustion.

You are giving yourself a 5 minute break in the break room when Robby walks past and glances inside. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest at the sight. You were sitting crossed legged with your arms folded over his chest. Your eyes were closed as you try to get in a 30 second power nap or something.

He licks over his lips as he looks at you. You had sat in that position many a time in front of him. Yet another confirmation of your identity as his Mistress. He takes a deep breath and continues to walk.

The next time you bump into each other is as you're both leaving through the main entrance of the ER. You smile at him, "Have a goodnight, Robby~" You said it the same way you say Puppy. Were you doing it on purpose? Did you know? Did you know that he knows?

Robby hesitates before following after you. You give him a quizzical side eye and poke out you lips, "Everything okay?"

"Uh yeah, It's just late, where'd you park?" He looks around.

"In the garage around the block. I prefer the long way to get some air. The hospital halls are so stuffy at night." You rub your nose. "Also, I've almost been hit by an ambulance when walking though the back so I just…"

He just smiles and looks at you. He couldn't take his eyes off of you. He wanted to study every feature on your face. The shape of your eyes, nose and lips. Where noticeable features rest on your face. He wanted to burn it all into his memory.

You stop your rambling and catch him staring. "Is there something on my face?" You quickly take out a compact mirror and check your face with blemishes. As you look, Robby lets out a chuckle. "What? What is it?"

"It's nothing, nothing. I didn't realize you were so vain."

"I am not vain." You blow a raspberry, "I just have an image to uphold."

"Oh yeah? What kind of image is that?" He glances at you for a reaction.

"A pretty one?" You grin and bow your head, "Okay I might be a little vain."

You arrive at the parking garage, "I'll see you tomorrow Robby." You check your watch and rush across the street to your car in the garage. He smiles to himself. You were really good at keeping your two worlds separate. You'd be seeing him sooner than tomorrow.

Later at your dungeon, you hear a knock on your door. Robby stands at your door I'm still in his scrubs. He never comes here like this. Always freshly showered and clean for you. He steps into the room and gets on his knees in front of the couch. "I want the collar today, Mistress." He keeps his head down.

You grab a thick black leather collar from the wall and latch it around his neck. He shudders at you ice cold touch. No gloves today, the first time he's felt your actual skin on his. "Your hands are cold~" He whispers.

"Sorry, Puppy." You feign a pout, "I forgot to get new ones after what happened to my last pair. A sub bit on one and tore the thumb."

"I like the feeling of your fingers." He says. Clearly, dodging the last statement of you seeing others here as well. You laugh and grab his throat with your hand and squeezing the sides. His breath hitches and he whimpers. You can see a tent in his pants.

You yank on his collar and pull him onto the couch, "No restraints but no touching. I'm confident in you, Puppy. Am I right to trust you?"

"Yes, you can trust me." He says. Trust me with all of you.

You get into his lap and grind into his lap. Robby had to admit, he was rather handsy without restraints; the main reason for them in the first place. He has been punished plenty of times for his unlawful touches. He grips the cushions of the couch as he moves his hips against yours. The way you were sitting on him, your chest was eye level with him. Your breasts pushed together by your corset. How could he resist resting his face in the middle of your cleavage. He moans at the thought as he continues to move his hips.

"Mistress." He whispers.

You chuckle, "You are doing so well." You hands snake around his neck. Your well manicured nails drag against his skin. You really did have an image to uphold. The low lights did nothing to hide your beautiful silhouette. He wanted to see you face so bad. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. He recalls just hours before when he studied your face. He's imagining what you look like under the mask. Were you biting back your own moans? No you were a professional. This wasn't for you. You were looking down at him with a sick satisfying smile. Your hands tighten around his throat.

He rests his arms on the backside of the couch to prevent himself from touching you. You loosen your grip for a few seconds and tighten again. His cock jumps with the constriction. He pants, out of nervousness, excitement, a lustful in between. He moans and leans in closer to your chest, you can feel his hot breath on your skin. You push him back against the couch as your grip on his throat lasts longer, he's gasping for air after every round.

You don't even notice, or care, that his hands are gripping your thighs for more leverage. He was close to cumming. You hold his neck tight one last time . After he loses air, you let go bringing him back. He rides out his high and as you get off his lap you notice the streaks of cum marking his pants.

"What a mess." You laugh, "What would you're coworkers think if they saw those." You grab a towel and throw it at him.

"I don't know. What do you think?" He looks at her through the mirror.

"What I think doesn't matter." You shrug.

"But if you were my coworker, one of my residents, what would you think?" His voice doesn't waver. You purse your lips under your mask. Did he know? He was staring like he had x-ray vision and was scanning your face under the mask. You take a deep breath and turn back.

"If I were one of your residents, I would think… most sexual deviance is not a crime and there is no shame in how or where you get your orgasm." You strut over to the couch and take off his collar as you speak. You grab, under the couch, a set of spare clothes for him. They lived in the dungeon, just in case. He places his hand over yours as he takes the clothes from you. "I'll see you later." He stands up and leaves the room.

The next day at work, you were nervous thinking about the night before. He had asked about your mask, his job, and wearing his scrubs to the dungeon. It all felt unnatural to Robby's usual behavior. As you walk with him going between patients you notice the red marks of your hands that were around his neck, hidden well with his beard.

You think, has this gone on too long? Should you put a stop to it? You go outside for a breather and stare into the ambulance alley as you think to yourself. You rub your thumb over your knuckles nervously.

"Everything okay out here?" Robby sits beside you on the bench.

"Yeah, just some home life stuff." You give a polite smile.

"Want to talk about it?" He tilts his head.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." You purse your lips. Sure boss, I would like to confess I'm your dom that chokes you, beats you and gets you to cum.

"I'm here to support you, y'know." He hesitates to touch you and resorts to a pat on the shoulder. He never had an issue at work before now. He then stands up.

"Sit back down." Your tone shifts, sultry and commanding. Instantly, Robby is thrown into the dungeon head space. He sits down again and gulps.

"Oh my god." You're back to your intern self again. You cover your face with your hands and bury it into your lap.

He takes a deep breath, "I wasn't going to say anything."

"How long have you known?!" You stand up in a power stance, he's only seen you do in the dungeon. His back straightens up slightly. Everything felt confusing for him right now.

"A week maybe?" He licks his lips, "You've known about me much longer. When were you going to say anything?"

"Never? I was doing a pretty good job keeping the two worlds separate until now." You let out a heavy sigh. You pick at your nails nervously.

"I knew and I still kept coming." He steps closer, "I like what we have. I want to keep this going."

"I'm pretty sure you broke a lot of my rules though." You frown, "You're not supposed to try and figure out who I am."

"I only found out because you can't control your manicured image." He nudges you.

"Dr. Robby, you're becoming quite the rulebreaker right now." You tease, "If you want this to keep going. You're going to have to come over and show me you will not be a bad boy anymore."

His breath hitches, "I can do that. I definitely can do that."

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

thank you for reading! likes, comments, and reblogs always appreciated!

You were lying there in the dim glow of Robby’s bedroom, your chest still rising and falling in waves with the aftershocks of the orgasm he’d dragged out of you with his mouth. It hadn’t taken long to get here, a few twelve-hour shifts together, a couple of shared looks across the ER, and now here you were: naked, spent, and staring up at the man who’d just eaten you out like it was his sole mission in life.

Robby stayed there, kneeling between your legs, still fully dressed in gray cargo pants and a white t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders. His salt-and-pepper hair was mussed after your fingers had been in it not ten minutes ago, and those big brown eyes of his were fixed on you now with a heat that made your thighs press together instinctively. His mouth was still shiny with the remnants of your arousal, his lips slightly swollen from the work he’d put in between your legs.

You swallowed, your voice was a little husky from the moans he’d pulled out of you earlier. “It’s a little unfair, don’t you think?” The words came out teasing as you gestured lazily at yourself, then at him. “I’m laid out here all naked, and you’re still fully dressed.”

A low chuckle rumbled out of him, and Robby dragged his eyes over your body slowly. He took in the sweat still decorating your chest, the way your nipples tightened under his gaze, and the slick shine between your thighs that he’d left behind. “I figured you’d want a minute to catch your breath before we even the score.”

You didn’t want a minute, you wanted him, right fucking now. The power imbalance had always been there, with him being the chief attending and you his newest resident, that was part of the reason you’d find yourself so attracted to him from the beginning. But now, the power had flipped in the best way the second you left the hospital, and you felt like you had all the control right now.

You pushed up onto your elbows, dropping your gaze pointedly to the obvious bulge straining the front of his pants. “I’ll catch my breath later. Right now I want to see what I’ve been feeling pressed against my thigh for the last fifty minutes.”

He didn’t argue, just moved his hands to the waistband of his pants, hooking his thumb under the fabric as he popped the button with a flick. The zipper rasped down, and you sat up fully then, reaching for him without thinking. You brushed his fingers as you tugged at the belt he hadn’t even bothered to undo properly in his haste earlier. You worked it free, sliding the buckle open with a clink.

“Someone’s eager,” he commented, but he let you take over, dropping on his back next to you, lifting his hips off the mattress to help you shove the pants down his legs. They caught briefly on the thick thighs you’d felt flexing earlier when he’d held your legs open, then pooled at his ankles before he kicked them aside, leaving him in just the black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide how hard he was. The outline was obscene, thick and straining against the fabric.

You didn’t hesitate, sliding up your hands over his thighs, feeling the coarse hair there, and hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers to drag them down slowly, letting the fabric catch on the head of his cock before it sprang free. And fuck… It was huge. You’d felt it through layers, grinding against you, pressing between your thighs when he’d pinned you to the mattress. But seeing it like this, bare and erect and curving slightly upward toward his stomach, was something else entirely. The thick veins ran along the shaft, and the head was flushed dark and already glistening at the tip, easily the biggest you’d taken or even seen up close.

Robby lay there unapologetic, but the way his breath hitched when your eyes widened told you he knew exactly what he was packing. “Jesus, Robby,” you breathed, half-laughing as you wrapped your hand around the base before you could stop yourself. Your fingers didn’t quite meet, the girth was filling your palm perfectly. You gave it one slow stroke from root to tip, feeling the way it jumped in your grip, the bead of pre-cum that slicked your thumb as you swirled it over the head.

He let out an exhale, lifting one hand to cup the back of your neck. “Careful,” he warned you. “You keep going like that, and we’ll be over before we even start.”

You stroked him again, firmer this time, twisting your wrist just a little at the head the way you hoped he’d like. The weight of him, the heat, the soft grunts that escaped his mouth… it all made your mouth water and your pussy ache all over again. Robby twitched his hips forward once, fully involuntarily, before he caught himself.

The small distance between your bodies closed as you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was slow at first, allowing you to taste the faint remnants of yourself on his mouth from earlier. Robby responded immediately, keeping his hand at the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair as he angled your head just right, deepening the kiss and brushing his tongue against yours.

You never stopped moving your hand, sliding it over the rigid member, feeling the vein along the underside throbbing with each pass of your thumb over the head. Robby was leaking steadily now, making each stroke smoother and wetter. You tightened your fingers just enough at the base, then loosened on the way up, learning what made him moan the loudest. The kiss grew messier as Robby nipped at your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue, sliding his free hand down your bare back to pull you closer until your breasts pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt, molding your naked body over his still clothed one.

You broke the kiss just long enough to gasp for air. “God, you feel so fucking good,” you murmured, giving his cock another firm stroke that made his breath hitch. Then you let go for a second, gripping the hem of his shirt instead. You tugged at the fabric, trying to pull it upward. “Let me get this off you.”

Robby’s hand caught your wrist gently but firmly before you could yank the shirt higher. He pulled your palm back down toward his erection, guiding it back around his shaft with intent. His voice came out guarded. “It can stay on.”

You paused, keeping your fingers still, loosely wrapped around him, but not moving them. You searched his face, those sweet eyes, usually so commanding at work, now held a flicker of hesitation you’d never seen before. You tried again anyway, your other hand joining the first at the bottom of his shirt, tugging it playfully. “Come on, Robby. What are you doing? Let me take it off.”

He exhaled through his nose. “What are you doing?”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Trying to get your shirt off. Seems only fair after you had your head between my thighs for like an hour.”

He shook his head once, trying to offer you one of his smirks, but it fell a little flat. “Why?”

The question threw you off, and you blinked as you sat back slightly on your heels on the bed, your naked body fully on display while he lay there in just the shirt and nothing below the waist, with his huge cock still jutting out proudly, glistening from your strokes, bobbing slightly with his heartbeat.

“What do you mean, why?” you asked, genuinely confused. “You can’t blame a girl for wanting a little skin-to-skin contact. I’m completely naked here, and you’re still half-dressed.”

Robby glanced down at your hand hovering near his cock, then back up to your face. For a second, the confidence that had defined every second since you’d walked through his door, the way he’d pinned you down, the filthy praise he’d growled while licking you through your orgasm, just seemed to drain right out of him. He looked… human.

“It’s just…” He rubbed a hand over his face, the same gesture you’d seen him do at work more times than you could count. “I don’t have much time to hit the gym anymore. Between the shifts and everything…”

You’d never guessed Robby could be self-conscious about what was under his shirt. This was the same man who never doubted himself when there were lives on the line in his ED, who’d answered your shameless flirting with such confidence, like crossing the line with a coworker was nothing new to him. The same man who had just let you see everything he kept hidden between his thighs without a flicker of hesitation.

Yet now, as your fingers hovered at the hem of his shirt, he looked almost… shy. Self-aware, and mbarrassed of showing you his fully naked body. And you wondered, quietly, if he always kept his shirt on when he fucked

You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “Do you think I care? Robby, I’m not here because I think you look like some bodybuilder under your shirt.”

He let out a breath that was half-laugh and half-sigh, running his hand through his hair. “It’s just… the years don’t come alone. I’ve forgotten to look after myself and… Fuck, look at you.” He dragged his eyes over your body again, the curve of your breasts, the way your thighs still glistened faintly from his mouth, and your release. “You’re… to die for. Fcking perfect. And I’m laying here like this.”

You weren’t blind, you’d noticed the slight softness around his middle that the oversized scrubs usually hid, the way his shoulders were still broad and strong but no longer sharply cut like they probably once were. None of it bothered you, quite the opposite, it turned you on. Ripped, gym-perfect guys had never done much for you. What drove you absolutely insane was the natural, masculine reality of Robby’s body, the solid weight of him.

You shook your head. “Shut up,” you told him affectionately. “Just shut up and let me see. I promise I’m gonna love it.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, those intense eyes searching your face and looking for any sign you were bullshitting him. You held his gaze, resting your hand lightly on his thigh, stroking the coarse hair there in slow circles. Finally, Robby exhaled slowly, and he moved his hands to the hem of the shirt. He gripped the fabric, hesitating only a heartbeat longer, then pulled it upward in one motion, dragging it over his head and off his arms.

His chest was broad and strong, but it had a soft layer of fat to it now, the kind that came from too many fast and crappy meals and not enough time for anything resembling a consistent workout. His belly was round and soft, curving gently outward. There was a light dusting of dark hair across his chest that trailed down in a thicker line toward his navel and beyond, disappearing into the thatch at the base of his still-hard cock.

Robby’s face tightened the moment the shirt hit the floor. He opened his mouth, already starting to apologize again. “Look, I know it’s not—”

You didn’t let him finish, just surged forward on your knees, cupping his face in both hands and crashing your mouth against his in a hard kiss. It wasn’t gentle this time, it was hungry, almost fierce. Robby made a surprised sound in his throat, but he kissed you back just as fiercely. You began to move your hands everywhere at once, exploring his body greedily. One slid down from his jaw to his neck, then lower to his shoulders, squeezing the solid breadth of them. The other roamed across his chest, pressing into the soft give of his pectorals, spreading your fingers to feel the warmth, the slight weight, the way his skin heated under your touch.

You squeezed, kneading the softness there, brushing your thumbs over his nipples, which tightened instantly. Then your hands drifted lower, over the round curve of his belly, grabbing handfuls of the soft flesh, digging your fingers in with appreciation. It felt good, warm, and real, but you could feel the faint tremor of self-consciousness still lingering.

You broke the kiss just enough to speak against his mouth. “Your body is so fucking sexy, Robby,” you punctuated the words with another hard kiss, then another. “I’m so turned on right now. You have no idea. This—” You squeezed his belly again, then slid up to cup his chest, circling his nipples. “—all of this. God, you’re driving me crazy.”

He tried to pull back slightly, still caught in that loop of doubt, muttering something about “not exactly a prize,” but you silenced him with your mouth again, kissing him even harder, leaving no room for arguments.

Moving down slowly, you pressed your lips to the center of his chest first, right between his soft pecs. Then you let your tongue out, dragging a stripe across one of his nipples, making the nub tighten under the flat of your tongue. You circled it lazily before closing your lips around it and giving a gentle suck.

“Fuck…” he muttered and you smiled against his skin as you moved to the other nipple, licking strokes over it before flicking the tip with your tongue. You alternated between them, licking, sucking and grazing with your teeth just enough to make his chest twitch beneath your mouth. His nipples were sensitive, pebbled and flushed by the time you pulled back, leaving them shiny with your saliva.

Then you started moving even lower, you kissed your way down the warm, rounded swell of his belly, taking your time. Open-mouthed kisses, and licking from below his sternum all the way down to his navel. Robby’s stomach tensed as if he was trying to suck in his stomach, but he eventually relaxed as you nuzzled into it, rubbing your cheek against the curve like you couldn’t get enough.

“You have no idea how much I love this,” you said against him, kissing the softest part of his lower belly, nuzzling and pressing your face into him, inhaling his scent while you squeezed the sides of it with your hands possessively.

Robby let out a shaky exhale above you, his cock throbbed visibly against his stomach, inches from where you were resting your cheek, but you stayed focused on worshipping the belly he’d been so self-conscious about only minutes earlier.

Finally, you pulled back, moving up his body one again, resting your forehead against his. You kept your hands on his body, one still kneading his belly possessively, the other tracing patterns through the hair on his chest.

“Wanna see how turned on you got me?” you whispered.

Before he could respond with more than an exhale, you shifted on the bed, swinging one leg over his hips to straddle him. The position put you directly above his lap, but you didn’t lower yourself onto his cock, instead, you settled your weight so that your slick, still-sensitive pussy hovered just above the round curve of his belly.

The heat of your core radiated against his skin, close enough that he could undoubtedly feel the wetness. Your thighs bracketed his sides until your knees were pressing into the mattress on either side of him. You rocked your hips once, very lightly, parting and brushing the slick folds of your pussy teasingly against the soft warmth of his tummy, just enough contact to let him feel how drenched you still were, how your body had responded to him, to all of him.

Robby’s hands came up to your thighs instinctively, gripping them. You looked down at him, resting your hands on his shoulders for balance. “See? This is what you do to me. Just looking at you… touching you… It’s got me soaked all over again. Fuck, Robby, I want all of you.”

The sensation was nothing like anything you’d felt before, his stomach was so soft, so warm, so wonderfully plush that it cradled every inch of your cunt like it had been made for this. Your juices, still plentiful from the earlier orgasm and the fresh wave of arousal that seeing him shirtless had triggered, immediately began to coat him. With each forward rock of your hips, you smeared more of your wetness across the swell, painting glistening trails over the trail of hair that led down from his navel.

The friction was perfect, it got your clit dragging deliciously against the flesh, the slight give allowing you to press down harder without discomfort, every movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

You kept moving your hips in rolling waves, forward and back, then in small circles that made your shiny pearl catch just right against the warm curve. You could feel your arousal building rapidly, how your inner walls clenched around nothing as you used his soft belly like the most perfect toy.

“Fuck… Robby,” you gasped, tipping your head back as another wave of pleasure rolled through you. “Your body feels so good… so soft and warm.”

Robby looked completely gone beneath you. His eyes were wide with disbelief and lust. He couldn’t seem to decide where to look, flicking hiz gaze frantically from your face, flushed and lost in pleasure, to your bouncing breasts, to the mesmerizing sight of your beautiful, glistening pussy rubbing all over his soft stomach. His mouth hung slightly open, like a man utterly wrecked by the sight of a beautiful woman using his imperfect, lived-in body to chase her own pleasure so shamelessly.

He watched every roll of your hips like it was the most hypnotic thing he’d ever seen. Your slick folds spreading and dragging over him, the way your clit peeked out with each backward slide, swollen from ll the friction. Robby’s hands twitched at his sides at first, then he finally moved one, wrapping it around the thick base of his cock. He started stroking himself slowly, almost absentmindedly at first, but he tightened his grip as he watched you grind faster.

You noticed the rhythmic movement of his right arm, and you let out a breathless laugh that turned into a moan when your clit caught particularly well against a spot on his belly.

“You’re touching yourself?” you managed to say as you pressed down harder, smearing more of your juices across his skin in a wide arc. “Robby… you really can’t wait, huh? Do I make you that desperate?”

He nodded jerkily, moving his hand faster along his massive shaft now, getting his fingers wet with pre-cum as he pumped them up and down the veined length. “Fuck yes. Look at you… riding my stomach like that… so fucking hot. You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

His words only spurred you on, so you leaned forward slightly, changing the angle so your clit got even more direct pressure with every grind. Your pussy was absolutely drenched now, with yourr juices flowing freely and coating his entire lower belly in a slippery mess.

Robby’s stroking grew erratic as he watched you chase your orgasm on his body, the contrast was dizzying, your youthful form moving so fluidly against his older and softer one. His free hand eventually came up to grip your thigh, fingers digging into the muscle as if to ground himself while you used him.

You kept going, riding him harder. “Oh god… I’m so close,” you whimpered. “It feels so fucking good… I’m gonna cum just like this…”

The orgasm hit you all of a sudden, and its intensity was overwhelming. You arched your back sharply at the same time a loud moan tore from your throat. Your pussy clenched and pulsed against his skin, fresh waves of your release flooded out, soaking his tummy even more thoroughly. Your hips stuttered through the climax, grinding erratically as you rode it out fully, prolonging the sensation by pressing down hard and rolling until the last tremors finally subsided. Only then did you lift yourself off him, shifting to kneel beside his hip on the bed.

You looked down between his legs, expecting to see his cock still hard and ready. Instead, it was soft now, resting against his thigh, still impressive in size even when flaccid. Robby’s hand and shaft were covered in thick ropes of his own creamy cum.

His chest rose and fell rapidly with a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction.“Sorry,” he muttered, “I couldn’t stop… watching you like that… fuck, you were too much.”

You let out a soft chuckle, one that was was warm and loving, without a trace of mockery. “You really came, didn’t you?” you reached out to brush a stray lock of his salt-and-pepper hair back from his forehead. “Just from watching me grind on your belly like that. God, Robby… that’s kind of hot.”

He let out a self-deprecating groan, rubbing his free hand over his face as if he could wipe away the flush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah… fuck. Couldn’t help it. You looked… Jesus, the way you were riding me.. You were all wet, getting off on me like that.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I wanted to be the one who got you off like that,” you said quietly, the words carrying a playful edge of disappointment that wasn’t really disappointment at all. “Wanted to feel you cumming inside me, or at least have my hands or mouth on you when it happened. Not that you stroking yourself while I came all over your stomach wasn’t insanely sexy… but still.”

Robby’s brown eyes darkened again at your words, and you tilted your head, letting your gaze drop deliberately to his spent cock. You licked your lips slowly, feeling a throb of arousal in your belly at the sight. “Think you can get it up again?”

He let out a short, breathless laugh that turned into a groan. “Fuck… I can try.” Without hesitation, he moved his hand back to his cock, fisting it slowly, squeezing it from root to tip in long strokes. The flesh began to twitch under his touch, thickening slightly as the blood flowed back in.

He watched you the whole time, but you didn’t let him do it alone for long. “Let me help you,” you whispered, moving down his body, settling between his spread thighs on the bed. You leaned in, tracing a broad stripe from the base of his cock upward with your tongue, collecting the salty and bitter taste of his cum in one pass.

You moaned softly at the flavor, and licked again, this time focusing on the underside of the shaft, dragging the flat of your tongue along the prominent vein there, cleaning every streak of pearly white that had dripped down. When you reached the head, you swirled your tongue around it in circles, lapping up the thicker globs that clung to the slit.

His cock jumped, hardening noticeably now, the entire length was shiny with your saliva instead of his release. You took the head into your mouth briefly, sucking with pressure, hollowing your cheeks as you worked to clean him completely.

You pulled off for a moment and looked up at him from between his thighs with a wicked little smile. “Told you I’d help.”

Robby’s chest rose and fell faster, the soft roundness of it moving with each breath. “Fuck me.” He cursed into the room.

You leaned back in, extending your tongue for another slow lick along the full length of his now fully erect cock. “In a second.”

Want to read more of these? Follow me on @cinnxmxngxrlupdates and turn on notifications so you don’t miss any updates.

A/N: I’m sorry this is all I’ve had time to write, my life is extra busy with work and college. I really want to write stories with more than just smut, but I can’t seem to find the time right now. I hope you still enjoy this in the meantime.

Dennis Whitaker, the poor soul, definitely fell first.

It started small. He hung around the nurse's station more often, under the false pretense that he was only there to look at the board of patients; when in reality he was watching the way you would fidget with something or other. A hair tie between your fingers, or the clicky part of the pen being gnawed between your teeth. An oral fixation that he noticed and thought about for days in near agony.

Then it turned into little bits of chatting. Because, Lord knows he wouldn't dare call what he's doing with you 'conversation'. Conversations have an actual structure to them when this was anything but complete.

"I like your... Your thing." Dennis had forced out of his mouth one day as he leaned against the nurse's station, his eyes nodding to this little figurine you kept on your workspace. It was... A baby? With a hat and wings? He had no clue. Awkwardly, he began to scratch at the nape of his neck.

"Oh! Um, thank you." You managed, nails clacking against the counter. Fidgeting again. His cheeks pinked, and you felt your own heat up out of something close to shyness. But you weren't sure what. You opened your mouth to speak again but someone was calling for him. It was an emergency department after all, there were plenty of things to do.

Robby could tell there was something going on there that he really didn't want to say out loud. It only complicated his own thoughts and feelings that he kept close (or buried) to his chest. You were probably just being nice to the poor kid. That's what you always were, a nice girl. Good. Always prepared.

He had known you longer than Whitaker anyhow. Since you began working here two years ago, fresh out of nursing school with the light still in your eyes. It somehow hadn't faded yet and he hopes it never does. Not as long as he's around, anyway.

A busy day was just the opposite of what he needed. Everyone clambering around like wildebeests on the move, the ER overflowing with patients it felt like. And he could see you in the middle of it all.

Hands clutching a clipboard to your chest. Feet planted to the ground. Eyes glued at nothing in particular as you tried to figure out where exactly to go.. You were off your game.

After more helpless looking, your eyes met Robby's. Though the moment you found your footing and began walking to him for some kind of help in finding a task, you felt it. Like the wind was knocked from your lungs, because in a way, it was. As your ass collided with the floor, you realized who exactly you bumped into in the first place.

Whitaker.

An extremely apologetic, worried Whitaker who was trying to say sorry but it was coming out all wrong.

Robby was over there in a near instant. And after the light of his penlight was no longer in your vision, you could see how close he was to you on your level. Had his eyes always been this deep of a brown?

"That was a nasty bump there," Your last name came out effortless on his tongue. "Might need to take a look at you." He sighed, helping you onto your feet.

"What? Dr. Robby, I'm sure I'm alright it was just an accident." Your protests were quickly shut down by his say so.

"Accidents get patients in here all the time don't they?" A rhetorical question. "We need to get you to a bed to check on you, alright?" You nodded, the concern for your well-being was quite attractive, you had to admit.

"Um, I think North 7 is open.." You managed, eyes flicking to Whitaker, who still looked sorry as ever. Robby nodded, nostrils flaring with a loud exhale.

"Whitaker, take her to North 7, you'll be looking over her seeing as you knocked her down." It seemed a little harsh, like he were mad at the younger man for that simple mistake. Dennis nodded, swallowing heavily before leading you back to the area you assumed a bed would be available.

"I really am sorry, y'know?" It was quiet as he drew the curtain back, ushering you in and onto the neat exam bed. "I was just so caught up in getting to Dr. McKay for these labs she asked for; guess I didn't see you." He began the basic once-overs one would require after falling the way you did. But he hardly spoke once..

Dennis could hear your heart thumping in his stethoscope when he placed it to your chest. God, he was practically touching your breast. And he could feel all the blood in his head beginning to rush south, he had to leave you alone. Had to get away. Maybe even get on the soonest plane back to Nebraska to escape this embarrassment.

"Uh, heart rate is good. A little fast, but I'm sure it's from when you fell." He swallowed heavily. Had his throat been this dry all day? "The fall didn't seem too intense, if I'm honest... I'm not sure what Dr. Robby wants me to check for."

"Well, I think the only thing that's going to be wrong with me is just a big bruise." You smiled, trying to ease the tension. Your hand went to his shoulder, giving a light squeeze of attempted comfort. "I'm fine Whitaker, no hard feelings."

No hard feelings his ass. In fact, all of the feelings he had right now were making him hard.

Before he spoke, the curtain drew back- thankfully killing the erection brewing underneath his scrub bottoms- but to his dismay, it was Robby again. Poking his head in. Cockblocking, maybe.

"Everything clear?" He asked, going to the sanitizer dispenser on the wall and allowing some to fall on his hands before rubbing it in. A habit.

"I think so. her vitals are good, nothing hurts enough for a fracture. It'll just be a bruise." Whitaker fiddled with his stethoscope, pulling it taut against the nape of his neck. Robby had that furrow in his brow. One he got when he would not let something go.

"Why don't you go back to McKay in triage. I'll take over here." A large hand pat Whitaker on his back. He liked that touch too, what on earth was happening to him? Dennis nodded, eyes staring at his shoes rather than you or his attending, before turning on his heel to leave.

Leaving you alone with Robby.

After nearly fifteen minutes, his eyes wandered to North 7 again, and he caught a glimpse of you and Robby finally leaving. You looked like a mess. Did he...? Did you both...?

Fuck.

He could not handle the thought.

The one person he really liked- thought he had a chance with, even- had something going on with his boss? Defeated, Whitaker went back to work.

Two weekends later, after another long shift, many members of the Pitt crew went to a local bar. A doctor's hangout, but nurses (which included you) were obviously invited. You had walked there with Princess, talking about some of the wilder cases you had during the day.

"And then that lady with the, what was it, gecko? That bit her finger and wouldn't let go." Princess had laughed, you did too when you actually remembered the details.

"What was her name, Meghan?" You raised an eyebrow, and she nodded. After some more chatting, you both finally turned the corner to see the bar, some familiar faces already standing outside. Samira and Trinity were talking near the bushes, before Samira noticed you both, waving you over.

"You're just in time, it was starting to get boring with mostly the guys here." Trinity crossed her arms, pulling her jacket on just a bit tighter; the mid-November weather was getting to everyone tonight. You included. The nip in the air made the fine hairs on your body stand up in all places. You should have worn a jacket today rather than just a long sleeve beneath your scrubs.

Pushing through the door, you felt your own breathing catch in your lungs. It wasn't overly crowded, but there were enough people you had trouble finding your own. Mostly upstairs doctors and nurses drinking away their own troubled days, or the med students who wanted to seem "cool" to their superiors. The bar lights were low, the space dappled with reds and purples, it felt intimate. Scarily so.

You had made your way through the small crowd before realizing you were alone. The girls nowhere to be found around you. A sigh escaped your lips and your fingers pinched at the bridge of your nose, before you walked to the bar and decided to let the evening start.

After a few minutes, an almost perfect strawberry daquiri was in front of you, and your mouth was planted around the straw. It tasted good, more than good after the time you've been having since you'd been on the day shift. And it made your mind wander.

To Robby. Your attending, who had always shown interest. And the other week after your "fall"... You gave in. Under the guise of "checking the potential bruising" his hands had wandered, and so had his mouth. Was it shameful to do something like that at work? Absolutely. Do you regret it...

Maybe you do.

Because then, as the rum really starts rooting into your system, you think of Dennis. He was sweet. And his crush on you was obvious enough to the point it made you smile. It would be a nice dream, you supposed. A normal relationship, with someone closer to your age, and most likely not going to end up using you for sex as many others would. It was wrong to dangle him on a string like that.

But part of you really could not help it.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed someone out of the corner of your eye. Staring. Your gaze shifted and there you saw him, bathed in purple light, eyeing you like he nearly wanted to eat you alive. Jack Abbot. Looking your way with eyes one's former attending should not be giving them.

He called your last name, giving a click of his tongue and a nod of his head. Calling you over like you were trained. And you came.

"And what do I owe this pleasure, Dr. Abbot?" You raised a brow, sipping on your drink again as you sidled up next to him against the corner of the bar. His hands instantly planted on your hips, giving a little squeeze, while his body went to cover yours from behind.

"Am I not allowed to miss you? Haven't been on the night shift with me in almost three months." Jack murmured into your ear. He was always so damn close. You felt his hips press against your ass, just enough to let you know that he did in fact miss you. "It's like you up and ran off on the rest of us. When are you gonna come home, huh?" Home. A messed up way of saying 'come back to me'. One that was hard to resist when you were pressed against him like this.

"Hmm... Maybe never." You shrugged, and he huffed against you. "I can smell the tequila on you, you know. Not cute, Jack." He let out a heavy breath, his hands moving up and down your waist- without seduction, just pure attempt at comfort.

"I know." Jack sucked in air through his teeth, before patting your side. "Make sure you stay warm tonight, kiddo. Can't have you freezing on us." Us. As if this wasn't about him being just a bit selfish over you. He let go of you, and wandered into the crowd.

That was another mess you did not have time to think about.

You hurried into the bar's bathroom, needing something to ease whatever was going on inside you. Had you just been insanely good looking recently? There was zero logical reason for any of this to be happening to you. And while you knew, Jack was just a friend (with amazing benefits), that did not explain Robby and Whitaker's behavior in the slightest.

Grabbing a few paper towels out of the dispenser, you balled them up and wet them under the sink; dabbing them on your face to stop the rising heat in your cheeks. Looking in the mirror, you knew you were tipsy. Tired and tipsy to be exact. But your mascara and hair still looked decent, so there was a plus.

After wiggling out your nerves, you step out of the bathroom and back into the fray, not before immediately bumping into someone chest to chest.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." Whitaker.

Fuck!

He held you steady, and the both of you looked at each other for a long minute.

"You know, you cannot keep getting away with this." You gave an awkward smile. Dennis nodded, his typically nervous eyes fixated on your smile, your mouth.

"I actually wanted to talk to you." He managed, like the words were painful for him. "Well, in general, I wasn't following or anything. I had just seen you going in earlier and..." Oh, you recognized this symptom. Popularized by the hit classic 'Mean Girls' you knew this as the ever common "word vomit". Excuses poured out of his mouth until you finally placed a hand on his shoulder. The same thing you did weeks ago, and it seemed to stop him in his tracks.

"Why don't we sit, hm?" You asked, rubbing his arm. He nodded, lips slightly parted like he could not believe his luck for you to be touching him again. Guiding him over to a small booth, you sat next to him, fully ready to listen to what he had to tell you.

In the distance, you were being watched. Robby had been hyper aware of you this evening despite not speaking to you once. The minute you walked in he saw you get separated from Samira, Trinity, and Princess, who were now drinking and gossiping on their own. He saw how your mouth was glued to the straw of your drink, a cute mouth- one that he liked very much; especially when it was finally against his in North 7, and the way you bit your lip to bite back moans moments after.

He saw the way Jack stared at him when he was practically grinding against you. The knowing look they shared once they finally passed paths when he left. Though, Robby had known about the two of you. And it didn't bother him since he and Jack had their own moments between them. That felt like a lifetime ago.

And finally, it boiled down to Whitaker. A good kid, but oblivious to the fact that you were clearly undecided on him. Robby saw the way your back seemed to tense at certain words, or the way you shivered. He knew you were cold, but was Whitaker doing anything about it? No. Something about younger men having no sense flashed through his head, but he wasn't a full blown geezer yet.

After this long of just lurking all night, Robby was tired of hiding in the shadows.

"And, I just... I like you. Very much. And I wanted to know if you would ever want to-" Dennis had stopped in his tracks. You felt a presence behind you, and saw Dennis in front of you clam up. A hand came down on your shoulder which made your heart jump. "Dr. Robby." Whitaker all but stammered out. He looked embarrassed, the poor guy. You turned in the booth to look at him, and he was giving you the smallest look of disapproval. His large frame slid into the booth next to you both, leaving you squished in the middle. Not even asking, just inserting himself in your business. His arm slung over your shoulder like it belonged.

"Thought I'd check in." Robby shot you another look. "Everything okay?" You could feel his other hand drifting to your thigh, squeezing, more so assessing with the way his fingers found a home on your covered flesh. He always held a room. Held command. Apparently even after hours.

"Everything's going fine, we were just talking." Whitaker managed to get the words out of his mouth with only a small amount of a stumble. It earned him some flared nostrils from Robby, that faux smile stretching on his face; the one that crinkled his crow's feet and made him look quite imposing, yet not ready to lay into someone.

"I think I would rather hear it from you." Your attending nodded down at you, the hand on your thigh drifted to your waist and squeezed lightly. You could feel his voice vibrate against you throughout your entire core. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, Dr. Robby. I'm fine." The way you looked up at him was so placating, and in that moment the pieces began to slowly fall into place for Dennis. How much the older man seemed to care, how flushed you looked after Robby's 'examination'. Could he really have not seen this sooner?

Looking dejected, he finally spoke up.

"I am so sorry. I really had no idea there was something going on between you two... Otherwise, I would've-"

"We aren't together." Robby cut in. "And I, for one, am tired of dancing around whatever is going on here." You and Dennis blinked at each other in confusion before Robby was fishing his phone out of his pocket. What was he doing?

Dennis' eyes met your own and you both swallowed. Like a hivemind of nervousness. His pinky reached out to link through yours, like a buoy keeping you afloat past whatever may come. You opened your mouth to speak, but your attending spoke first.

"I ordered an Uber." He said it so quietly, it was as if the air of command faltered for just a second. The way his shoulders slumped in like they did often when he was unsure of something. So unlike his usual self all of a sudden.

"Why?" Dennis asked the older man, his pinky squeezing against yours just a bit tighter.

"Because I can't bring either of you home with me driving after I've already drank." Robby finally looked up, biting the inside of his cheek. He knew what was bound to happen was happening. Now it was down to waiting for the two of you to figure it out for yourselves.

After a few minutes, he stood up from the booth- and you don't have a good idea of what compelled you to follow, but you did; Dennis also following in tow. Maybe it was the moment the two of you already shared. Maybe it was the possibilities of the unknown. Maybe there was no good reason at all.

But you went.

The ride to what you assumed was the apartment of the Pitt's dear own Michael Robinavitch took only around fifteen minutes from the bar. And the elevator ride up was as quiet as could be, and it would have felt hollow, if you didn't feel Robby's hand drift to palm your ass on the way up. It was really hitting you what was happening. Or... What was about to happen.

Once he unlocked the door and let everyone in you could feel the air catch in your lungs. A familiar feeling that only anxiety really brought out in you.

His apartment was nice. Not exactly well-lived in; feeling more like a space one would go to to rest their head and recuperate after a stressful shift rather than live. But the pieces that really spoke to his character were apparent. Prints of different musicians above a tucked away stereo, a plastic houseplant because God knows he doesn't have time to keep one alive, and a shoe rack by the door that is completely and utterly mismatched. Little details to put you at ease.

Your eyes flicked to Whitaker, who was taking it in just as much as you, if not more. He looked uncomfortable. Like a stray cat who really did not belong there as badly as he wanted to stay next to you. Always staying close, even since you got out of the car.

Before you knew it, a large hand was cupping your jaw. And your lips were pressed against a bearded mouth. It wasn't gentle; it wasn't gentle the last time either. Michael unwilling to take his time now that he had you through his door.

Dennis let out a little sound of surprise. Unsure of whether or not he should even be seeing this. But the way that Robby's hands were sliding to your ass, pawing at the flesh while he kissed you, it made something inside him shift. And something below the surface began to twitch like an unruly nerve.

Or more accurately: his cock.

You moaned into Robby's mouth, one hand going up to tangle in his hair to keep you grounded, the other grabbing his wrist and wrenching that hand up to your breast. He was smart. He groped at it instantly, feeling the soft padding of your bra underneath your scrub top. God, all three of you were still in your work clothes, this could have waited.. But not really.

Robby broke the kiss with a groan that rumbled through his chest and shook your own due to just how close you were to each other. His head drifting down to your neck.

"My bedroom is the first door down the hall on the left. I want you to be out of your scrubs when I get there. Do you understand me?" It was the same tone he used in the ER, and it made heat flood between your thighs. You nodded, and quickly went to where you were told to go. Robby turned his attention to Whitaker, moving closer to the young man and grabbing his chin, thumb resting on his bottom lip. "You're here because I know how you feel about her. But I think you need to learn some tricks first before I let that happen." Not asking. Just bluntly telling- though by the look in his eyes there was still kindness. If Dennis wanted to opt out, he very well could.

He really, really didn't want to though.

Dennis gave the slightest nod, and Robby was practically dragging him by the scruff towards the bedroom. Like he were an unruly pup rather than a man closer to 30 than 20. The way he seemed to take charge over everyone all the time was undeniably endearing; and if you weren't in that room waiting for them to catch up, Dennis would have thought Robby was bringing him in there for himself.

The door opened with a resounding creak, revealing you sat on the edge of your attending's bed; clad in your undershirt, bra, and panties. They could both see the dark colored bra practically shining through your white t-shirt, typically a fashion faux pas, but being men this was something that made both their cocks twitch. The mismatched striped pattern of your panties blended with the striped duvet Robby had on his own bed.

The pair were taken aback at just how ready you seemed to look (no matter how nervous you truly were on the inside). Robby released the poor Whitaker from his grasp and made his way to where you sat, standing between your parted knees like he was so certain it was where he belonged.

"You know, the implication of getting out of your scrubs also meant everything else, right?" He asked with a smirk, tilting your chin up with two of his fingers before moving back. You gave a mischievous smile of your own in kind. "Be the smart girl I know you are and finish what you started for me." He hummed, it was so sickeningly sweet the way he said it. Gentle. Like he was asking you to take a break or get some water rather than to get naked in front of him.

So, with a sense of obedience that overtook your body, you began to fully strip. Your eyes wandered to Dennis as you peeled your t-shirt from your form, and the way his eyes went wide once he saw you in just a bra and panties. How he shifted on his feet just so. Like he wanted to reach out and touch you but held back. His cheeks were pink, reaching up to the tips of his ears, and you could see his throat bob with a heavy swallow.

With a gentle, yet heavy hand to the middle of his back, Robby gave Dennis a little push towards you. Directing him the way he wanted him to go- always a commanding presence, like it was ingrained in him after years of doing what he does. Leading others.

"Take off her bra." That was not as gentle of an order he had given you. Not by a long shot. Robby said it with a click of his tongue, like he was ordering around an unruly pup rather than a grown man, one that worked for him no less.

"I- Yeah.." Whitaker managed before moving towards you abruptly, his hands going behind you with little finesse; it was oddly clinical, like you were a patient he had to aid in undressing.

"I- Yeah?" Robby parroted back to him, tilting his head and raising a brow. His hand came out to move Whitaker's away from you, looking at Dennis like he'd lost his mind. "Say it right." He commanded. Your eyes met the younger man's again, and you knew what your attending wanted from him. Or rather, you had a feeling.

"Yes sir." It came out like a whimper. Pathetic and small, but the way it came out made heat pool between your thighs; and you could tell if had a similar impact on Robby with the way his gaze softened and his jaw clenched.

"Good boy." He said it quietly, before moving the younger's hands back to the clasp of your bra, slow and gentle. Whitaker shivered hard. "Now this is easy. Just a few little clasps." Robby instructed with the same tone he used during a very delicate procedure, except you were the precious 'patient' in his eyes tonight. And he was ready to really teach Dennis the ins and outs.

Once your bra was finally undone and pulled away from you it felt like you could breathe again. Tits on display for two men- two men you worked with and saw nearly every day of your adult life. Part of you wanted to be embarrassed as you felt the cool air begin to stiffen the peaks of your nipples, or as the goosebumps rose on your skin, but you weren't sure where to start. Deep down there was the instinct to hide. To cross your arms and cover yourself while you still had your dignity (and panties) though you were also certain Robby would scold you. And the thought made your cross your thighs with a squirm.

Dennis gave you a look as his hand hovered over your exposed breast, just shy of a real touch to the mound. You nodded with permission, eager to feel the warmth of his hand rather than the cold of Robby's AC biting at your sensitive flesh. With a tentative touch he cupped one in his palm, both your breaths hitching as he gave a light, experimental squeeze.

"I like that, you know." You murmured, licking your lips just to wet them. You felt so quiet tonight, eager to please and eager to watch what unfolded. Your voice felt like an eager rasp against the back of your throat. At this newfound information, Dennis' hand moved to attempt to tweak at your nipple; but was stopped by a click of Robby's tongue.

"I didn't say you could do that much." The older man chewed at the inside of his cheek, crossing his arms. "Now would you like us to take those off for you; or would you like to do it yourself?" He asked you, eyes flicking down to your panties, the pattern on them he definitely found amusing. Small blue flowers adorning your own flower. Though that euphemism was far from his favorite.

"I can do it." You blinked up at him, gently shimmying back from Dennis, before standing up off the bed. The difference in the looks they had were astounding. Robby's gaze was heated, eager to give you another taste of what he had given so freely already. While Dennis looked wide-eyed and mystified over the chance. You'd heard the rumors, the teasing comments towards you and him. You were practically his dream girl and he was finally allowed, in some capacity, to touch you.

You peeled your panties down, wetness inevitably having dampened them a long time ago, but you persisted in the mission of fully undressing. Once they were at your ankles you kicked them away and focused on the two men again.

It was like all hell broke loose behind their eyes. Glued to the juncture between your thighs.

"Bed. Now." Robby managed to push the words from his mouth, and for some reason you obeyed. Lowering yourself back onto the mattress, Robby stepped between your legs once again, but this time lowering himself onto his knees. You tried to ignore the resounding pop that came from them. "If you want this with her, you're going to learn how to do it right." He said to Whitaker, to which the younger man nodded. "I can't hear you." He chided at him.

"Yes sir..." There it came again, and Robby's cock twitched in his pants at the sound. He only wondered if it sounded just as good coming from your lips instead.

Robby's hands slid up your thighs, parting them gently to get a proper look at what he'd been waiting on seeing all night. Your cunt. Shiny with slick in the low lights of the bedroom, fluttering around nothing, eagerly waiting for something. Something he could deliver. His large hands spread you apart, thumb experimentally brushing over your clit and he had to fight off the urge to smile when he saw how it made you shiver. Perfect.

"Now first, you want to get a proper feel of the external genitalia before just diving right in." Fingers traced your folds with expert precision, the calloused pads of the tips of them heightened the feeling just so. He traced the area around your opening, your clit, and the sensitive skin of your perineum before quickly dipping back up. "See how her breath hitches when you touch here?" A thumb pressed down on your clit. "That is what we want to see."

"God, stop teasing." You groaned, fingers twisting into his sheets in pure frustration. If you had to wait any longer you'd explode, you figured. Or you'd drag Robby down by the hair, maybe Whitaker too.

"I am not teasing, I am teaching. Big difference sweetheart." It was that sickeningly soft tone again, it made you melt inside and out. "Now. She's still a bit unprepared, which is not ideal for sex. How can we fix that Whitaker?" His head turned to look at him, like he was asking for an answer to a case instead.

"Um.. You could try oral stimulation." Dennis managed to get it out. The poor thing, he was standing there awkward as one could be in his shoes, cock straining against its confines like it was upset to be left out for even a moment.

"Very smart, make sure you pay attention to how I do this." Robby praised before turning back to you. "We're gonna try that now honey, okay?" You nodded quick enough it should have been embarrassing. He gave a warm smile before dipping his head down and pressing a long, languid kiss to your clit. Making your toes curl and a pitchy sound leave you. The kiss turned into broad laps of his tongue, beard scratching against your sensitive pussy in a way that made you buck against his face- his large palm immediately pressing against your lower stomach to steady you.

Your fingers curled in his hair, soft but thin, tugging once he gave your clit a particularly harsh suck. He groaned into your sex, tongue working with a newfound determination to make you cum at least once tonight. And before you could think another thought you felt his rough fingers rubbing up and down your entrance again. This time waiting to breach.

"Please..." You murmured, and Robby pulled off with an expectant look in his eyes. You knew very well what he wanted. "Please sir." It shook out of you and Robby smiled before diving back in, patting at your thigh like it was his own signaling of praise. His rough fingers worked their way into you, crooking upwards in a way that drew noises from you like a fountain.

All the while, Dennis was palming his cock now through his bottoms. Letting out little whiny puffs of air, practically jerking himself off through his clothes. He wanted to know what you tasted like. He was the one that had a crush on you first, or at least he thought he did.. All he knew was that he was so close to cumming and ruining his boxers at this rate; something he did not want anyone to see in the laundry basket or have to explain later if he did.

A very familiar feeling began the spread through you in that moment. Starting in the pulse of your cunt, spreading down to your toes and all the way up to your ribs where your heart quickened behind them. Grinding against Robby's face, you found your orgasm- or rather, it found you, in a way that was far too intense to be healthy.

You could feel your hearing dull slightly as the world began to come back into place. Robby placing kisses along your inner thighs while rubbing your stomach to soothe you down from your high. You swallowed heavily, making your ears pop and it was like you were normal again.

Wordlessly, Robby pulled away and left his kneeling position. Walking over to Whitaker who was looking up at him like he was the next meal. And he was. You barely had time to process the sight of your attending's mouth against his much younger resident's; but you weren't upset by it, no. You could feel the fire between your legs stoking back to life again.

Dennis moaned into Robby's mouth, he could taste you on his tongue and it was the best thing he'd ever had in all his years on this earth. He gripped at Robby's shirt as the older man pushed his tongue into his mouth, a silent fight for control. Dennis rutted his hips against the other man's own bulge, causing a grunt to escape from him. Robby pulled back ever so slightly, and raised the fingers that had been inside you just moments prior, still covered in your slick, and pressed them into Dennis' half open mouth.

A half-surprised gasp escaped him, but his lips wrapped around Robby's thick digits like it were his job to lick him clean. His earlier praises of 'good boy' rang in his head while he focused on your taste, and the weight of fingers pressed to his tongue. Once they were sufficiently 'cleaned', Robby removed them, a string of saliva holding onto the connection before it broke.

He was definitely learning a lot.

"Be good for me, and go to my left nightstand. Grab a condom from the bottom drawer." Robby asked him, well, not really asked but told. Whitaker's eyes glanced at you, how you were still there, knees parted and waiting for more. He quickly went to do as he was told, and tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach when he saw the brand that Robby used was for the more well endowed crowd.

He turned to see that Robby had stripped himself of his shirt, a soft, hairy torso greeting him. The way his Star of David rested in the dip beneath his collar bones was shining in the low light of the room. His hands were rubbing your thighs and Dennis could hear the soft cooing words he was giving you under his breath. His chances with you felt slim to none after all this was over. Maybe Robby would allow him in your bed now and again.

"Ah, thank you." Robby gave a half-smile. A polite one reserved for people you pass in the hallway, not someone you just made out with. Robby finally pushed his bottoms down to mid-thigh, the sight making you and Whitaker's eyes widen. His cock was definitely big, but the best adjective would be that it seemed heavy. Already at full attention, the tip a dark pink as it strained in the air. The light glistening of precum already making itself known. "It'll be alright, I promise." He said after he saw how your mind seemed to implode at the sight. He tore open the foil square, then rolled the condom onto his length. "You regularly use condoms when you have sex?"

Your brain buffered in that moment. It wasn't a bad question to ask, just a surprising one. Your mind drifted to nights with other people. Nights with Jack. And you had to snap back to the reality of who you were with in this moment- Robby and Dennis.

"I try." You answered. Not technically a lie, you did try, they were just typically... forgotten about.

Robby gave a little huff of a laugh and a knowing look.

Dennis' mind ran wild with the implication. Though he didn't know about your other hookup buddy at PTMC. The though he could ever do such a thing with you made him bite his lip, digging the heel of his palm against his erection to calm himself.

The blunt tip of Robby's cock pressed at your now prepped entrance. It made you hiss; this was the first time he was actually fucking you after all. He squeezed at your thigh, a small reassurance that you would in fact survive his dick. Then he finally pushed in the tip of himself. The little gasp you made rang through his ears as he slowly but surely continued.

God, you were still snug inside even after cumming. Tension that he couldn't wait to help break down and mold into something useful for the both of you. You made a little whiny sound once he fully bottomed out, he liked that sound more than he should have. Robby rested for a second, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him before being too rough on you. His eyes flicked to the younger man in the room; who was currently gnawing his lip into oblivion and grinding against his hand like a pervert simply looking in. He supposed he should allow some repreive.

"Whitaker. I want you to touch yourself while I show you how a man should fuck her." It seemed harsh, but it turned the younger man on more than anything had tonight. "Now. I'm already inside her, letting her adjust. That is very important when she isn't used to your size yet." Dennis nodded while fishing his cock from its confines. Whimpering once it was free.

He wasn't as big as Robby was. But not small by any means. The textbook definition of the term 'boyfriend dick'; which was far from a bad thing. You eyed it as he began pumping it in his fist. Using the leaking precum to ease the glide of his hand. Robby tapped your cheek, a silent way of saying 'eyes on me', before his hand cupped your jaw to drag your attention back.

"Now, I'm going to start moving again." His hand gripped at your hip, digging into the softness. Slowly, his hips drew back before giving a deep thrust into you. "Make sure to start slowly. If you rush too fast it'll hurt her." The soft smack of his thighs into you became a consistent echo in the space between your bodies. Your body still fought the stretch. It was perfect, yet just tipping into the edge of pleasurable pain.

A good hurt.

"Once you're ready to, ah, pick up the pace.." Robby trailed off as his thrusts quickened, a few groans rumbled through his chest and the way he held your thighs open was beginning to falter. "You can- fuck! You can start to change things up." He grunted before laying his body atop yours, the squish of his softness against your body was warm. He didn't like that he was tiring out this quickly. It meant he was old. Too old for a pretty thing like you. His mouth settled into the crook of your neck to lazily kiss at the juncture of it as his hips snapped into yours.

Dennis never wanted this night to end. The way you were practically smushed underneath Robby, like the older man was completely enveloping you in his body felt primal. Like he was a great big bear instead of just a man. He bucked into his fist quicker than before, trying to match the speed of the other's thrusts.

Every time your moans picked up with something the other was doing; Dennis would attempt to copy the speed. He longed to be inside you, especially now that he knew what you looked and sounded like getting fucked.

You felt odd being watched by him. And odd with the way Robby seemed to curl up on top of you. Becoming like a ball of limbs, sweat, and sex all in one shared unit. Fucking into you like he had something to prove to Whitaker, and maybe he did. You wanted to open your mouth and speak up, but you were cut off with a whiny curse once Robby had angled his hips just right to find the spot that made you lose your mind.

"That it?" He panted against you, kissing a bead of sweat off the side of your neck. You gave a pitchy 'uh-huh!' which only made him attack that spot inside you over and over again. "That's her g-spot, you need to keep track of all the stuff that makes her scream." His eyes met Whitaker's when he said it, the younger man's fist stuttered around his cock. "If you're lucky you can make her cum just like this."

The promise of that nearly sent the younger man over the edge.

"Most women need clitoral stimulation also." He groaned, pushing himself back up to spit on his hand and bringing his fingers down to circle your poor, abandoned clit. He would never forget about it, never. Every motion up and down moved it just so; in a way that made your moans grow higher and higher.

"Oh fuck!" You managed- by instinct you wanted to smack his hand away, but you felt too cockdrunk to even attempt on the thought. One particular swipe up made you squeal louder than you had all night and you immediately felt awful for Robby's neighbors and what they had to hear from you. But this was too good to carry any guilt over.

It was building inside you again. Too much too soon too fast. An inevitable release that your body was begging for.

"You can tell she's close. See?" Robby clicked his tongue to direct Dennis' attention to the not so subtle signs. Dilated pupils, pitchy breaths, fingers clinging to Robby's biceps like they were a lifeline.

"She's going to cum?" The younger man asked, extremely hopeful to see it again. He looked close himself, practically leaking all around his fist.

"That's the goal." Robby gave a little laugh before lowering his head and placing a kiss to your sternum. "Gonna cum for us again honey? I think he wants you to finish more than you or I do." His nose nudged at your tit, placing a kiss to the side of it. "Be good and cum." He whispered.

The way he said it felt like the final push. You spasmed around his cock with an orgasm that sent you reeling, nails digging into his arms just a little too hard; pussy twitching like a hard reset hit it. Your orgasm seemed to set off a chain reaction, because Dennis was cumming with a loud moan of his own, ropes of it shooting up onto his scrub top and staining the black material. So much for not wanting his clothes ruined.

Robby quickened his pace to the fastest he'd been all evening. No longer concerned with anything but chasing his own release. The loud smack of his balls against your ass practically made your ears ring, he was such a large man in every aspect. His groaning echoed in the room, and the closer he got the faster he rutted into you.

With a noise you weren't convinced was entirely human, he finally came. You could feel his cock twitch as it spent into the condom; a small part of you wishing it was inside. Maybe more than a small part. His head fell to your chest as he caught his breath, body going limp against you as he nuzzled into your breasts.

"And..." He trailed off, trying to give Dennis some more 'advice' but he had nothing left to say. The younger man definitely got his fill of what to do and not to do. When it came to you, at least. Robby made a noncommittal sound and wrapped his arms around you, nearly out like a light already.

Michael Robinavitch was an after sex cuddler. Who'd have thought?

Dennis reached for the tissue box on the nightstand and cleaned himself off the best he could after the mess he'd made. Once his pants were readjusted he was about to turn to leave until..

"Stay." You whispered. Your eyes met and his throat bobbed. "I know that all of this happened because you like me." You pursed your lips, trying to figure out how to articulate what you wanted to say next. "And just because he and I have.. Well, it doesn't mean we can't get to know each other."

He felt like a deer in headlights. And not entirely hopeless again.

"You mean this doesn't mean you two are-"

"Dating? I don't think so- I haven't exactly been looking." You shook your head with an exhausted smile. "But you're sweet, Dennis. Maybe I could teach you some things about me too; outside the bedroom if you'd like?" An offer that seemed like friendship with a chance, a small chance, of more.

You had his arm twist behind him and his face smashed into the mattress. A playful wrestling match gone wrong, smack talk went a little too far which landed Dennis in this uncomfortable position.

"What did you say? Hm? Wanna repeat it?"

"No, no! I'm sorry- ah!"

"That's what I thought." You let him go and he immediately flops down into the mattress, his hips dug into the blanket. You try to flip him over but, he won't budge.

"Babbeee... roll over, I wanna lay down." You try to move him but he fights back with more force.

"Just- just give me a second..."

"Dennis, are you hard?"

"No... Maybe..."

He just loves those raw, passionate moments and he's not great at hiding it.

You kiss him on his neck and maybe your teeth graze him skin, instant goosebumps and ten times more flustered than he was before.

It's not long before you notice.

You give him a little nibble on his neck and he's whimpering. His brain shuts off and all he can ask is, "Harder?"

It comes out like a question too, like he doesn't know you would give him the world. How could you say no?

You bite down and he moans so sluttily. His breath picks up and he's just gone.

It goes both ways, though. He likes biting almost as much he like being bitten.

Imagine he's between your legs, his back against your chest as you stroking him. It's loud, wet, and messy. He loves it.

His cock is glistening with lube and precum. He looks down at his poor abused tip and just how swollen it is. His head falls back with a long whine.

"I don't know if I can last much longer." "Just be patient, Dennis." He knows the rules.

His head is in your neck and the skin just looks so tempting. He can't help but sink his teeth in.

You're taken by surprise, but it's a pleasant surprise. He leaves a little mark can and once he sees it, his hips buck as he cums without warning.