What you don't expect, is the kiss he plants on your temple, turning his gaze to the now slack jawed Chad, frozen in front of you.

"Sorry I left you alone too long, baby," he mutters, eyes venomous as he stakes his claim. "Bathroom line was crazy long."

He punctuates this with a wave, grabbing your hand and spinning you to him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you meet his pretty, satisfied face.

"Doctor Robinavitch!" You scold, lightly swatting his bicep. "What was that all about?"

It's then that realization dawns on his face, his cheeks going pink, a sheepish smile on his lips.

"I just…" he trails off, averting his gaze and shaking his head. "Couldn't stand the way he was looking at you."

As he speaks, his hands trail down from your back, to your waist, to the spot right above your ass. You sway in his arms a little, a hopeful hint for him to continue his journey. He smiles, a sardonic thing that spreads across his face like poison oak. It's infectious, spreading through your entire body.

"I love this song," you whisper, your noses grazing as your rhythm picks up, reaching back to link his hands between yours.

"I don't know it," he responds, still a bit sheepish for a man already growing hard against you.

"You're about to," you whisper, turning your body around so your ass flushes against his hips.

Your nails scrape up the back of his neck, something you see him do often in the ED, and it has its desired effect. He shivers against you, a light groan of surprise escaping his lips.

You smile, your hands reaching his hair, giving a few scratches before pressing his face into your neck, the point of his nose running down the length of it. His lips are eager, you can tell by the pants fanning your neck, so you turn your head to his ear.

"You can kiss me, it's okay, Dr. Robby," his title drips off your tongue like syrup, sticky and sweet and oozing through his body.

"God, you can't fucking call me that while I've got a hard on pressed against your ass in front of everyone we work with," he breathes, pressing one sweet kiss to your neck. "Not here, though, you hear me? We're gonna finish this song and then you're gonna meet me in the bathroom, nod if you understand me."

It's almost pathetic, how eager you are, his sardonic laugh flowing through you like lava. His hands find your hips, speeding them up, grinding them back against his cock. Butterflies release in your tummy, your heart pounding at the need coursing through you.

The song is sensual, some R&B singer talking about loving on his woman all night. You can only hope it's a manifestation of your night to come. You continue to maneuver your hips against his, heat rising between you like a sauna.

The way he grinds against you is easy, bodies fitting into place like puzzle pieces. You wiggle your own a little, moving down against him and back up, his hands grabbing your hips, your waist, desperate clutches for any piece of you he can have.

Throwing your head back, a light gasp spills from your lips. You turn your head, lips grazing the shell of his ear as you whisper,

"I've always wanted you, Robby," he shudders at your confession, pressing you harder against his prominent length. "You're so hot when you're in charge, did you know that?"

He shakes his head no, eyes squeezing shut as you pout and coo.

"That's such a shame," you press a kiss to the shell of his ear, giving a little bite when he shivers. "When I go home, after a long day, and I reach my hand in my panties, I think about how you murmur in my ear when you help me intubate, I think about how you take your hoodie off when you get too warm, I think about-"

"Jesus fucking Christ," he growls, abandoning his own rule as he drags you off to the bathrooms.

You make the mistake of glancing over to the PTMC booth, which is full of slack jaws and wide eyes. You find Trinity, giving you a surprised thumbs up as you trail behind the chief attending.

You thank whatever deity lies above when the bathrooms reveal to be single stall, and available. Robby nearly tosses you in there, locking the door and resting his forehead against it.

"Did you like that?" He asks, and you quirk a brow, even though he can't see. "You like making me hard in front of my entire staff?"

He turns now, the look in his eye dark, cunning. Sinking your lip to suppress a smile, you nod, slinking over to him. He stays put, and you press him up against the door with your body.

"I really liked it, Robby," you whisper, grazing your lips over his.

"Call me Michael when I'm about to fuck you, understand?" He asks, waiting for a nod before crashing his lips into yours.

You let out a muffled 'mmph!' against him, eliciting a light chuckle from his throat. Teeth clacking, you nearly devour each other as you stumble backward, clamoring behind you for the counter.

He lifts you up, your short dress hiking around your waist as you spread your legs. Lifting his head back, he takes in the wet patch on your pink panties, a low 'ffffuucckkk' leaving his lips.

"You got this wet just from dancing with me, baby?" He coos, finger tracing the gusset of your panties.

You nod, biting your lip.

"I told you I want you, Michael," you try out his name, feeling formal on your lips. "Think about this all the time."

"Really? God, am I lucky?" He mutters, peeling the flimsy fabric down your legs. "Holy shit, look at that," he whispers, eyes wide as a string of your wetness clings to your panties.

"Can I put my fingers in you? Need to stretch this pretty pussy out, is that okay?" He asks, looking up at you as he kneels, now face to face with your glistening heat.

You nod, mumbling out a sweet, "Yes Michael, please."

He pouts, and you ache to lean down and kiss him.

"So polite," he muses, pressing the tip of his finger to your entrance.

Your head falls back, a light 'ah!' falling from your lips. The breach is intrusive, already feeling full. You have no idea how you're going to take his cock, but you're eager to find out.

Once he's reached the knuckle, he curls his finger, reaching a spot that sends electric shocks through you. You kick your legs out a little, squeezing your eyes shut with a moan.

"There it is, that's the spot, hm?" He asks, and you nearly weep.

He starts to thrust, moving his finger in and out as his lips find your clit. The feeling is euphoric, suckling mixed with yet another finger nearly pushing you over the edge already.

"So soon?" He murmurs against your clit, and the coil in your belly tightens even more.

"I'm sorry, Mikey, it just feels too good," you whine, and he releases a grunt against you.

"Fuck, love when you call me that, honey," he growls, and you look down to find him rocking his hips against the hard cabinet beneath the counter.

You chuckle, eyes glossy as you sink your fingers in his hair.

"God, Michael, you're just as desperate as I am," you remark, and his playful brown eyes find yours.

"That's right, princess," he says, placing a kiss to your button. "So you better hurry up and cum for me so I can sink my cock into that pretty pussy, hm?"

This does it, the coil in your belly snapping as euphoric waves wash over you. Your head hits the mirror as his fingers ride out your high, maneuvering your walls until you're shaking around him.

"That's it, that's a good girl," he murmurs, and you let out a sweet cry before you slump against the mirror.

He pops up, the cracking of his knees accompanying the lust in the room, and you let out a sweet chuckle. His cheeks go red, and he shakes his head, fiddling with his belt.

Your eyes are hazy as you watch, big hands quick and nimble against his button, his zipper. He pulls himself out, giving his thick length a few strokes. It's big, the biggest you've ever taken, and your wide eyes give you away immediately.

"I've got you, not gonna let it hurt, okay?" He reassures, and you nod.

He clears his throat, lining himself up against you as you grasp his biceps. There's a brief moment before he sinks in, where you spot his tattoos, Momento Mori. You run your thumb against it, resting your temple against his chin before placing a sweet kiss there.

"You done?" He asks, fondness dripping from his tone.

You nod, leaning back and spreading yourself even wider. He takes this as the invitation it is, pushing his head in. You gasp, nails sinking into the skin of his arms.

"Oh my God, Michael!" You whine, wiggling your hips to get more of him.

"Patience is a virtue, baby," he teases, giving you another inch.

He caresses your head, pushing your wild hair out of your face as he rests his forehead against you.

"So pretty, should tell you that a lot more," he murmurs, finally sinking into you all the way. You squeeze your eyes shut, tightening around him at the compliment. "Yeah? Like being my pretty girl? Prettiest girl in the whole ED, smartest, too."

You whine, your pussy throbbing around him as he starts to rock his hips.

"Yeah, you like being my pretty girl, don't you?" He asks, and a tear almost slips out.

He licks his lips as he watches you, picking up his pace to the perfect rhythm. A light moan escapes your lips, raking your nails up his chest as he moves.

"'m all yours," you nod. "Your pretty girl."

His balls slap against your ass with lewd smacks as he nods his head, his eyes aglow.

"Fucking. Mine," he grumbles, leaning down to suck your neck into his mouth.

His hands find your tits, squeezing and pulling at the taut skin.

"So fuckin' pretty, gonna blow my fucking load baby," he rasps, his pace growing sloppy against you.

"Please cum in me, Michael," you keen. "Need you to fill me up."

He reaches down to rub your clit again, and the added pressure has you right at the edge.

"Please cum with me, baby," he practically begs. "Gotta feel you tighten around me while I empty these balls, got it?"

You nod, tears finally spilling as your second orgasm hits. The Earth stutters on its axis, mini explosions bursting through your tummy.

"Fuck yes!" He groans, his cock twitching inside of you. "That's it, that' s my girl, cummin' for me so good."

All you can do is nod, brain mush and body soup as your orgasm continues to pulse through you. Robby thrusts into you one last time, pulling you in for one last sweet kiss.

Soon enough, all you can hear is the heavy breaths exchanged between the two of you, followed by some sweet chuckles. Reaching up to the nape of his neck, you play with his hair and say,

"I don't know about you, but I'm not going to be the one to face our coworkers after all of this."

He laughs, cheeks going pink as he pulls out. Cleaning you up, he murmurs,

"I'll take care of it. You're my girl, remember?" You nod. "That means you don't have to worry, that I'm gonna take care of you."

He knew this was stupid, plainly a terrible idea. On any other day, the thought wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but today wasn’t any ordinary day. Today was his birthday. Fifty-five years old, and he had never felt more lost in his own life. Nothing had turned out the way he’d once imagined it would. If someone had told him, back when he was a resident, that he would still be coming home to an empty apartment at this age, no wife curled up on the couch waiting for him with a tired but loving smile, no chorus of small feet thundering toward the door, shoving drawings into his hands and saying “Look what I made for you today, daddy!” he would have laughed in their face and called it a cruel joke.

Yet here he was. No relationship had ever survived the weight of the hours and the way his mind stayed trapped in the ED long after he left it. He couldn’t be present anymore, not the way a partner deserved. The job had hollowed him out in ways he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

It had been almost a year since he ended things with Noelle, not long after he returned from his sabbatical. He’d told himself it was the right thing to do. Maybe it really was better this way. At this point in his life, trying again felt pointless, almost selfish. He was saving whatever good women were still out there from the inevitable complications of loving Michael Robinavitch.

But today the emptiness hit differently. The apartment felt quieter than usual, and his thoughts were louder, circling like a vulture. He knew it was the birthday doing this to him. Birthdays had a way of dragging the sorrows out into the light, every missed milestone, every abandoned version of the life he thought he’d have. Jack had tried to pull him out of it, offering a beer after shift, but Robby had politely declined. He wasn’t in the mood for forced cheer, for anyone raising a glass to another year of the same.

He’d made it clear to the whole department that he didn’t want any birthday cake, no cards, no presents, nothing. Still, the well-meaning murmurs had followed him all day: “Happy birthday, Dr. Robby,” each one met with a progressively wearier smile until the words blurred together. By the end of the shift, he was only managing quiet nods of acknowledgment, the kind that said thank you and please stop at the same time.

So here he was, in an apartment that was too big for himself, lying on a couch that felt even bigger, downloading Tinder on his phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, he’d tried Tinder once, maybe two years ago. Downloaded it, swiped for a week, then deleted it when the superficial nonsense started bothering him too much.

He started with the basics. Photos. Robby opened his gallery and scrolled slowly through the meager collection. Most of the images were work-related, grainy screenshots of charts, or blurry shots of trees and roads he’d taken during his bike rides. After a long hesitation, he picked a silly selfie he’d sent Jack a few weeks earlier. He was holding up the book the two of them had been texting about, half-smiling at the camera like he felt ridiculous even taking it. It wasn’t terrible, he supposed. He looked… friendly. Approachable, maybe. 

Next, he chose one from the department barbecue he’d actually forced himself to attend last summer. He was wearing the sleeves rolled up on a button-down shirt, and holding a beer in his hand. He didn’t hate it, it showed a version of himself that still showed up for people, even when he didn’t feel like it. The last one was from the hospital fundraiser gala two years ago. He looked elegant in that photo in a black suit, but he had to crop Jack out of the frame, his face was still half-visible over his shoulder. Three photos, not exactly a compelling portfolio, but they were honest, he wasn’t pretending to be anyone other than himself.

He moved on to preferences. Gender: Women. Age range… His thumb froze. At first, he set it to 50–60. Women at the same stage he was, maybe divorced, maybe widowed, or just tired of feeling alone. But then something flickered in his chest, part curiosity and part desperation, and before he could talk himself out of it, he dragged the lower end down. Twenty to sixty. The wider net felt reckless, almost embarrassing. But what if the love of his life existed somewhere in that range? What if he missed her by something as stupid as a single year on a slider?

As if the love of your life was sitting on Tinder on a Sunday night, he thought. Don’t be fucking stupid, Robby.

He stared at the screen for a long moment, and with a quiet sigh that sounded too much like surrender, he tapped confirm. Now it was time for the bio. Robby stared at the blank field for a long minute. What the hell was he supposed to say? He wasn’t looking for anything specific. Company? Distraction? Someone who wouldn’t mind a man who came home at crazy hours, sometimes covered in blood and whocarried more baggage than he could carry?

He typed slowly what felt the most honest: “ER doctor in Pittsburgh. Love long bike rides to clear my head and 70s rock. Not entirely sure what I’m looking for here, but if you can handle sarcasm and odd hours, we might get along.”

He read it back. It sounded stiff, after all, he wasn’t used to this. But it was him, and so he hit save before he could overthink it more. The app prompted him to start swiping. Robby leaned back against the couch as the profiles began loading, smiling faces, pictures of holiday destinations, and bios full of lists of requirements. He swiped left on most without much thought. 

Left. Left. Left. Some of the women seemed nice, but nothing pulled him in. He kept going until the endless scroll of faces started blurring together. No one stuck, just the same hollow feeling that had driven him to download the damn thing in the first place.

But then your profile appeared. Robby’s entire body froze. The photo loaded first: you, one of his own residents. You were standing in scrubs outside the Pitt with the same smirk you got after a particularly chaotic shift. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as the heat crawled up his neck. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling right now. 

At work you were talented and dedicated, but still green enough that he rode you hard during shifts. And here you were on Tinder, of all places. The thought that you, or anyone else from the department, might stumble across his profile made his stomach twist with embarrassment. He could already imagine the gossip: Dr. Robby on Tinder. How pathetic.

He should swipe left immediately, delete his profile, and pretend this never happened. Instead, curiosity won. Robby tapped on your profile, telling himself it was just… professional concern. Making sure you weren’t doing anything stupid. He cared about his residents. Yeah, that was it.

Your bio loaded beneath the main photo: “If you like girls who will force you to watch her Letterboxd top four and then talk your ear off for hours about the hidden meaning behind her favorite songs, then I’m your girl. Emergency med resident with zero free time. Not looking for anything serious, just fun, meeting people, seeing where it goes.”

Robby let out a chuckle despite himself, the sound was unexpected in the quiet of the moment. He had only ever seen you in the chaos of the ED, running on adrenaline and too little sleep. But this version of you felt… different. He found himself thinking about how little he actually knew you. How little he’d allowed himself to know.

He didn’t know where you were from, or what your family was like, whether you had siblings who called too often or parents you tried to make proud. He didn’t know what you did outside of the hospital besides the occasional beer in the park, or what made you laugh until your sides hurt. All those small and ordinary pieces of a life that existed outside the emergency department.

It felt strangely intimate, seeing you like this. Like stumbling across a part of you he wasn’t supposed to have access to. A version of you that wasn’t filtered through the hierarchy of resident and attending. Up until now, you had been “his resident”, contained within the professional boundaries he’d carefully maintained.

He started swiping through your photos. The second picture was you laughing in what looked like a group hike, with your hair windblown and your eyes bright. You looked undeniably pretty. Objectively, he’d always known you were attractive. The kind of natural attractiveness that turned heads in the hospital corridors even when you were exhausted and covered in sweat. But once again, he’d never thought about it. You were a resident, he’d gone down that path before, and it’d ended badly. That made you off-limits, end of story.

The third photo was of you in a cozy sweater, curled up with a book and a mug of coffee. It was cute, almost sweet. The kind of image that made the loneliness in his chest ache. He kept swiping until the last photo hit him like a defibrillator. You were on a beach somewhere sunny and sandy, wearing a bikini. Your skin was glowing under the sun, and you were smiling at the camera in a confident pose, the kind of effortless beauty that could stop any man cold. Holy fuck, your body barely contained by the fabric of the bikini, the photo capturing the gentle swell and the way the light played across your body. 

Robby’s mouth went dry, the heat flooded his face and then lower down his body. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t let himself imagine you like this, outside the hospital, undeniably a woman and not just one of his residents. His pulse kicked up, the nervousness made his hands shake and his grip slippery. He fumbled the phone, trying to swipe left fast. Swipe left, damn it, he thought.

But he accidentally jerked his thumb the wrong way, to the right, and the screen lit up with that unmistakable animation. 

It’s a Match!

On the other side of Pittsburgh, you had been lying in bed, still trying to unwind after another brutal twelve-hour shift. Sleep felt miles away, so you’d given in to the guilty habit of late-night Tinder scrolling. Sure, swiping at 1 a.m. probably looked desperate to anyone else, but who cared? It wasn’t like you had much of a life outside the hospital anyway.

You swiped left with efficiency. Guy whose entire bio was just a link to his podcast. Left. Gym mirror selfies and nothing else. Left. Self-proclaimed “entrepreneur in the crypto market” with a Lamborghini in the background that probably wasn’t even his. Left.

How was it this difficult to find someone even remotely decent? You weren’t expecting to meet the love of your life in this digital dumpster, but was it really too much to ask for a man with basic social skills and a profile that didn’t scream immediate red flags? Someone whose opening line wasn’t just “u dtf?”

Guy who still clearly lived with his mom. Another left. “No feminists” in the bio, followed by a rant about “high value woman.” Left.

Then your thumb froze mid-swipe. Michael Robinavitch. Your heart slammed against your ribs. There he was, Dr. Robby, looking straight into the camera in one of the photos, that familiar half-smile you’d seen a thousand times in the ED, only now it was on a dating app.

You sat up straighter in bed, suddenly wide awake. What the hell was Dr. Robby doing on Tinder? You’d scrolled through this app for weeks and never seen him before. He must have created the profile recently. The man you’d been quietly (and not-so-quietly) thirsting over since your very first day of residency was right here. One match away. 

How could you not like Robby? He was everything you’d ever wanted in a man, strong, steady, impossibly smart, and so damn capable it made your legs weak every single time he gave you a calm and yet authoritative instruction in the middle of a trauma.

You’d lost count of how many times he’d gently reprimanded you for being distracted while charting. He always assumed you were just tired from the long hours. He had no idea that you kept getting lost in vivid daydreams about him: running your fingers through the silver-flecked hair and that coarse, greyish beard, feeling those big hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close.

You loved the way his eyes crinkled warmly behind his glasses when he smiled, the way his voice dropped into that gravelly register when he needed to command attention in the ED… it did things to you. Dangerous, addictive things. Sometimes getting in trouble with him felt more exciting than it had any right to.

His Tinder bio was unexpectedly adorable. He looked a little lost, like he wasn’t entirely sure he belonged on the app but was willing to put himself out there anyway. That bike is not the only thing I’d like to ride, you thought, as a little smile tugged at your lips.

His pictures made you melt and sigh at the same time. That warm, contagious smil, the glasses that struck the perfect balance between hot and endearingly sweet. The silver threading through his beard that made you press your thighs together at the mere thought of feeling it against your skin, between your legs, specifically. 

You swiped slowly through the rest of his photos. Those wide shoulders, that tall and solid frame, that soft belly under the button-down shirt… you wanted him in a way you had never wanted anyone before. 

It was almost pathetic the way your heart did a little skip every time he complimented your work on a tough case. The way your thighs squeezed together almost involuntarily whenever he stepped in close during a complicated procedure, guiding you step by step, his voice low and patient near your ear. “Yeah, grab the blade like that… make a two-inch incision, softly, very gently.” “Hold the tube with your left hand, tight, don’t move it.”

It made your mind wander to dangerous places. Was he like that in bed too? The kind of man who talked you through it, calm and devastatingly attentive? In your fantasies, he absolutely was. Late at night, alone in this very bed with nothing but your hand and your imagination, you could almost hear his voice murmuring against your skin: “Keep your legs open for me, nice and wide… just like that.” “Look at you… already making such a mess. I’m gonna start with one finger, okay? Think you can be good and take it for me?”

Should you swipe right? It felt like the only logical choice. If he swiped left, which seemed like the most likely outcome, he would never even know you’d swiped on him. But if he did swipe right… then maybe, just maybe, you could end up in Robby’s bed.

Your hopes stayed low. Never in a million years did you actually expect Robby to be attracted to you the way you were to him. You would’ve noticed something by now, maybe in lingering stares, subtle flirting, or any shift in the way he treated you. But he didn’t. He treated you exactly like the rest of the residents: a young doctor he needed to teach, who could sometimes be frustratingly distracted.

Still, you couldn’t contain the tiny, thrilled scream that escaped your lips when the screen lit up:

It’s a Match!

Robby had matched with you. He wanted you too.

“Shit!” Robby dropped the phone onto the couch like it had burned him. It bounced once and landed face-up, the match confirmation still glowing on the screen. He and you had just matched on Tinder. All thanks to that goddamn bikini photo and his clumsy, nervous fingers.

He stared at it, feeling his heart hammering harder than it had during the worst trauma cases. This was mortifying. You’d seen his profile, you’d swiped right, and now you were going to see that he’d swiped right as well. Part of him, the tired and lonely part that had downloaded the app and widened the age range, wondered what you’d think. 

A dozen what-ifs tumbled through his mind. What if you saw his profile and laughed? That disbelieving laugh when something genuinely surprised you. What if you messaged him first? Maybe it had been a mistake on your end too. Maybe your phone had slipped, or you’d been swiping too fast after a long shift, half-asleep and a little buzzed. Or maybe… maybe you’d swiped right on purpose, just to tease him. He could already picture the text popping up on his phone: “Oh my god, Dr. Robby. What are you doing on Tinder? lol.”

Robby ran both hands through his hair, exhaling sharply. He picked the phone back up, looking straight at the Send message button. He shouldn’t. The responsible thing would be to delete the app, pretend this night never happened, and go back to being your attending, not your Tinder match. 

Instead, he opened your profile again. Robby tried to move past it, he really did, but his eyes lingered on that last photo far longer than they should have. You in a bikini, your skin glowing under warm sunlight. He couldn’t believe that was what you looked like underneath the baggy scrubs you wore every day in the ED.

It felt wrong. Like he wasn’t allowed to see you like this, like he was intruding on something deeply private, crossing a line that should never even be approached between an attending and his resident. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but it wasn’t enough to make him look away.

His body reacted anyway, a sudden heat stirring unwanted, a throb of arousal he hadn’t felt this sharply in longer than he cared to admit. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, hating himself for it even as the reaction deepened. What the hell is wrong with you, Robby? he told himself, but the self-reproach did nothing to dull the pull. What could he do? You were a woman. A beautiful one, and for the first time, he was seeing you not just as his resident, but as someone undeniably, breathtakingly desirable.

Before he could delete his account and go to bed as he should, your message popped up.

You: hii :)

Robby’s breath hitched in his throat. For a split second, he swore his heart actually stopped. Then it slammed back into rhythm, pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, in his temples, in the tightness of his chest. The little smiley face stared back at him from the screen, innocent and cheerful, as if it hadn’t just flipped his entire night upside down.

You had matched with him. At eleven at night. On his lonely fucking birthday. What the hell was he supposed to say to you at 11 pm. after accidentally matching with her on Tinder? “Hey, funny seeing you” here felt pathetic. “This is wildly inappropriate” felt like a lie because the rush of heat still lingering in his veins said otherwise.

He set the phone down on the coffee table for a moment, dragging a hand over his face for the millionth time. Part of him wanted to delete the match immediately, pretend it never happened, and go to bed like the responsible, professional attending he was supposed to be. But another part, the part that had been sitting alone on his fifty-fifth birthday, couldn’t bring itself to swipe left on this one unexpected connection. So he picked the phone back up and stared at the blinking cursor in the message box.

Another message came through a minute later.

You: robby? it’s me from work... guess you saw my profile too haha

Robby let out a long breath, he couldn’t avoid it now that you’d initiated a conversation with him. It was better to be direct, explain the mistake to you, and shut this down before it got any more awkward.

Robby: hey yeah, I saw it listen, this is embarrassing as hell, i was messing around with the app, dropped my phone and it must have swiped right by accident sorry about that, didn’t mean to make things weird

He hit send and immediately regretted how cold it sounded, but it was the truth. The phone stayed quiet for a moment that stretched too long. He had his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for your reply so he could shut down this awkward conversation and delete this stupid app before he accidentally matched with anyone else from work. 

You: oh. so it was a mistake? damn, i thought you had swiped right on purpose. bummer.

Robby’s eyes widened. You were being direct, not beating around the bush or deflecting by saying it had been a mistake on your end as well. He could practically hear your voice saying it with a teasing edge.

Robby: Sorry about the confusion  i know it might be awkward finding me on here. probably the last person you expected, i don’t usually do this. 

You: honestly it was surprising. didn’t peg you as the tinder type at all.  but hey, we all have our moments i guess

Robby: i’m not the type this is my second time ever downloading it and i already regret it, should probably delete the whole thing before i make an even bigger fool of myself.

You: yeah i get it. i thought the match was mutual so i figured i’d say hi. sorry for texting if it was just an accident. didn’t mean to make it weirder

Robby read your message twice. Thought the match was mutual. The words echoed in his brain. You had swiped right on purpose, not as a joke, not out of morbid curiosity about your boss’s sad dating life. You had chosen him willingly. The realization of what that meant sent a confusing rush through him. You liked him, that had to be it. The thought of you… having a crush on him made a warm feeling run through his body, one he immediately tried to shove down.

Robby: What do you mean you thought it was mutual?

You: idk... i saw the notification and figured you wanted to match with me since it happened. that’s why i said hi right away. didn’t want to leave it hanging if we were both curious

He stared at the screen, his heart beating a little harder. You were so honest and blunt about your feelings, he found himself almost intimidated by it. Some rational part of his brain was trying to tell him this had to be a big joke, there was no way in hell you could like him. You were… you. What would you see in a man like him?

Robby: you wanted us to match? seriously?

You: lol yeah i did swipe right, didn’t i? your profile was actually really nice. the book pic is cute and the 70s rock mention made me smile. plus... i don’t know,  you’re interesting. figured why not. no pressure though

Robby: i thought maybe you did it out of curiosity or just to see if I’d swiped on you didn’t expect you to actually want that

You: well i did. but if it was an accident on your end then no big deal. we can pretend this never happened and go back to normal tomorrow. i won’t mention it at work or anything. promise

Robby let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes for a long moment as he exhaled heavily. He knew exactly what the responsible Chief of Emergency Medicine should do right now: unmatch immediately, delete his profile, and pretend the entire night had been nothing more than a lonely fever dream.

But tonight… tonight he didn’t want to be responsible. He didn’t want to be Dr. Robinavitch, the attending who had sacrificed nearly every personal connection, every version of a fuller life, on the altar of the ED. For once, he wanted to be Michael. Just Michael. The man who had matched with you on Tinder. The man who was currently staring at his phone with his heart hammering like he was twenty years younger.

Before he could piece together a polite but firm way to end the conversation and retreat back into the safety of professional distance, another message appeared.

You: i think your profile’s part of the reason i swiped right. the book pic’s really nice

He smiled faintly at that, a rare genuine twitch at the corner of his mouth. Robby leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

Robby: your profile’s pretty good too, better than most of the ones i’ve seen tonight

You: aww thanks. your’s so much better than the usual bullshit on here which is not that hard but still finding you here is a nice change :)

Robby: you on this app a lot? seems like you’ve got the profile down

You: not really. i’ve been on a couple dates from here but it’s honestly exhausting. hard to find someone decent in this city. most guys are either looking for hookups with zero conversation or they’re boring as hell. you know how it is

Robby: fair enough. your age range must be set pretty high if it pulled me up fifty four isn’t exactly the usual crowd for you or is it?

You: haha yeah well  i like older men

Those four stupid words hit him square in the chest like a defibrillator. “I like older men.” Robby reread them slowly, feeling a dangerous warmth bloom low in his belly and spread outward through his chest. He was an older man, and apparently, that fit exactly into your preferences. Was that flirtation? Were you subtly implying that he was the kind of older man you liked? Or was it just a casual, throwaway comment, something you’d say to any guy on the app who happened to have a few gray hairs?

No. He was spiraling too deep, overthinking it the way he always did. Your words didn’t carry some hidden, special meaning meant just for him. They couldn’t. And yet… No matter how hard he tried to talk himself down, he couldn’t ignore the flicker of validation that lit up inside him. He felt desired, really desired. Not just by anyone, but by you: someone younger, and so strikingly pretty it almost hurt to look at your photos for too long. Someone who, in his mind, was clearly way out of his league.

Robby: It’s okay to have preferences  everyone does.

You: yeah exactly. i just find older guys more attractive than the ones my age. they’re usually more mature, know what they want, have actual life experience. it’s... hotter, i guess. plus the conversations are better

He swallowed hard, feeling his throat suddenly dry. He could practically see your face as you typed those words, maybe biting your lower lip in that teasing way you sometimes did right after nailing a difficult procedure.

Then the bikini photo from earlier flashed unbidden through his mind, and the heat in his body flared hotter. He pictured you exactly as you’d looked in that shot: sun-warmed skin, curves barely contained by the fabric. The thoughts he had no right to entertain came rushing in anyway, pulling him deeper. Thoughts of having you all to himself, of finally being able to run his hands slowly over every inch of that bare skin, tracing the line of your waist, sliding up your ribs, cupping the soft weight of your breasts. Of putting his mouth on you and every sensitive spot until you were trembling beneath him.

Robby: makes sense i usually go for women closer to my stage of life we have more in common that way

You: do age gaps bother you?

Robby: in what way?

You: like as a concept. are they a problem for you?

Robby: i’m okay with consenting adults doing what they want as long as everyone’s on the same page it’s not my business.

You: have you ever been in an age gap relationship or anything like that?

Robby: i once dated a woman a bit younger than me but usually around my age

He paused before sending the next part, he shouldn’t keep engaging in this deeply unprofessional conversation, but curiosity was getting the better of him. And you were simply so easy to talk to that he couldn’t stop himself from letting his walls down a little.

He typed before he could second-guess himself.

Robby: how much older are we talking anyway? the men you usually like i mean.

Your reply came fast, like you’d been waiting with the phone in hand.

You: usually over fifty up until their sixties or so. around that range. but it’s just a preference, nothing crazy. i feel like older men usually treat you better. they’re more gentlemanly, know how to actually listen, and they tend to understand what a woman wants... in every way, if you know what i mean ;)

Robby read the message twice. Three times. Four. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck me. You weren’t just being polite or making casual conversation. That winky face, the implication hanging there about “every way”. You were deliberately flirting with him, there was no other way to see it. He shifted on the couch, suddenly very aware of his own body and the fact that it had been a long damn time since anyone had spoken to him like that.

He took a slow breath and replied, trying to keep some semblance of control.

Robby: do you date men closer to your own age too?  or is it mostly the older crowd?

You: i have tried guys closer to my age. some of them are sweet but a lot are still figuring their shit out. you should try dating a woman younger than you sometime though. maybe it’s exactly what you need.

Robby didn’t know what to say. The words hung there, full of possibilities around them. He was still wrestling with a response when another message from you popped up.

You: anyway sorry again for the confusion earlier. i’ll leave you alone so you can keep scrolling through profiles. i’ll go back to robbing the graves haha (joke, get it? because i like older guys... sorry that was sooo bad)

Robby chuckled despite the whirlwind in his head. The joke was cheesy, so perfectly you that it cut through some of the tension. But it also gave him an out, you were offering to back off and let this weird moment fade into nothing before tomorrow’s shift made everything awkward as hell. Part of him wanted to take the exit ramp, wish you a good night, unmatch, delete the app, and pretend none of this happened. But another part, the one that had been sitting alone on his birthday didn’t want the conversation to end.

He tapped over to your photos again, almost against his will. There it was the last one. You on the beach in that bikini, with the perfect swell of your tits catching the sunlight. Holy fuck. He wanted you, the realization hit him all of a sudden, making him switch back to the chat and move his thumbs almost on autopilot.

Robby: Nothing to apologize for honestly you’ve kept me better company tonight than I expected

You: see? younger women can be good company too :) you shouldn’t close the door so fast. you could meet someone nice if you give it a chance

Robby: you shouldn’t close the door on guys your own age either there are decent ones out there, you’ll find someone who can keep up with you

You: out of all the guys i’ve matched with here... you’re easily the best one. no contest

Robby: Really? that can’t be right  you’re selling yourself short.

You: no i mean it. you’re exactly the kind of man i’d usually go for. tall, older, smart... and hot

The word hot hit him harder than it had any right to. His face flushed deeper, his clothes felt constricting, his pants uncomfortably tight. Robby’s cock was already half-hard, thickening and pulsing insistently against the zipper of his jeans with every new message.

All because you’d called him hot. Just a little cheeky, playful comment, and it was enough to unravel him. The touch starvation wasn’t helping. It had been so damn long since anyone had looked at him with real interest, longer still since he’d felt this fluttering feeling low in his stomach. This rush of ego, this sharp need to be close to someone, to be wanted, to touch and be touched.

Robby: thanks i guess you’ll meet someone worth your time, you’re a good girl 

The message was sent before he could fully reconsider the wording. The second it went through, Robby winced. It sounded weirdly sexually charged, maybe it was because he was feeling sexually charged, painfully so. A Freudian slip at its finest.

You: good girl? 😏

Robby: shit i didn’t mean it to sound weird just a figure of speech i suppose.

You: should i call you daddy then? ;)

Robby nearly dropped the phone again. The winky face, the bold suggestion, the way it played so perfectly into the tension that had been building sent a bolt of pure want through him. He could imagine your voice saying it, teasingly so, with that mischievous glint in your eyes. His mind supplied far too many vivid images: you in nothing but your skin looking up at him, you saying it in person with a flirty smile. He was fully hard. Actually hard, just from a fucking text conversation.

The professional alarm bells were clanging loudly in the back of his head. This was his resident, the age gap, the power dynamic, the fact that you’d have to face each other at the Pitt in a few short hours... it was all wrong. But god, it felt good. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

He glanced down at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, his cock straining against the fabric like a flagpole. He couldn’t believe it. One flirty text from his resident and he was rock hard. Don’t get hard for your fucking resident, he thought. She’s one of your own. Off-limits. This is insane. He adjusted himself uncomfortably, trying to will it down through stubbornness, but the ache only sharpened.

You: too much? sorry i was just messing around lol

Robby exhaled and typed back, trying to sound more composed than he felt.

Robby: Don’t worry about it i know it was a joke, no harm done

You: it was... unless you don’t want it to be a joke 

He let out a surprised laugh, his cock twitched again at the follow-up, you were relentless, and something told him you were noewhere near done.

Robby: you’re funny, i’ll give you that.

You: that’s what i’ve been told. glad you’re having fun with me tonight

Robby: Well, I guess I should let you get some sleep early shift tomorrow and all

You: i don’t mind staying up. i swiped right on you, remember? yk for a minute i really thought you were gonna flirt with me or maybe even ask me to come over to your place or something

The words hung there. You had been excited, you had hoped he would flirt. The image flashed through his mind, you showing up at his door in the middle of the night, stepping inside and… He shifted again, pressing his hand down against his insistent erection through his sweatpants, trying to get some relief even as guilt gnawed at him. This was crossing so many lines he’d promised himself he wouldn’t cross after Heather. But the loneliness that had driven him to download the app in the first place was quieter now, replaced by an electric tension.

Robby: that would be very inappropriate i’m your boss and there are lines we can’t cross

You: but you’re not dr. robby my attending in here. you’re michael robinavitch, 55, the guy who loves 70s rock and long bike rides. and i’m not your resident in this chat. i’m just a girl who likes movies and older men... and who is really, really into you right now

You were separating the roles so cleanly, drawing a line between the hospital and this private space. It was tempting, dangerously tempting. 

Robby: you know it doesn’t work like that we can’t just turn it off when the shift starts tomorrow

You: nah i’m pretty sure i can

Robby: No.

You: If we really can’t meet then we can do it over text, you know.

He stared at the screen trying to guess if you really meant what you were saying. 

Robby: what do you mean?

You: sexting, duh

He let out a short breath, Jesus fuck you were actually gonna kill him tonight.

Robby: that’s basically the same thing.

You: no it’s not. technically we’re not doing anything if it’s just messages. no one has to know.

Robby rubbed a hand over his jaw, his mind was screaming at him to shut this down, but his fingers were already moving. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering to do this.

This was a terrible idea. What difference did it really make whether it was real sex, his hands on you, feeling your heat around him, or just describing it in detail over text messages? A line was still a line. One he had promised himself he wouldn’t cross again. He didn’t want this to end with you giving up your residency, transferring to another hospital, another city, once things inevitably fell apart.

But fuck, his cock was achingly hard, straining against the front of his pants like a caged animal that desperately needed to be freed. The thought of you right now, maybe lying in your bed in, pressing your thighs together, that sweet slick already soaking through your panties because of him… it made it impossible to think straight. He couldn’t leave you like that, so wet, so needy, aching for him.

Robby: what do you want me to say?

You: i don’t know… just say something hot. you’re goot at being hot  

He hesitated, he wasn’t sure of what to say. He was scared of seeming naive and old school to you, but he wasn’t used to this whole… sexting thing. The most spicy exchange over texts had been insinuating pictures before asking someone to come over. Okay think Robby, if you can save someone’s life under extreme preassure then you can sext with a woman, just say something typical, he thought

Robby: who’s been a naughty girl?

The second he hit send he regretted it. He winced, already typing another message to backtrack when your reply came through.

You: lmao that was the best you’ve got?

Robby groaned out loud, dropping his head back against the couch. 

Robby: forget it. i’m going to bed

You: nooo wait. let’s try again :(

He should’ve put the phone down. He really should’ve. Instead he waited to see if you had anything else to say.

You: you’re so good at giving orders and guiding me at work. maybe you could do that now too? tell me what to do

You were right, in theory. He was good at instructing, guiding, teaching. It came naturally to him to step into that mentoring role, he had always been the one others looked to for direction.

Robby: i  feel stupid doing this.

You: pleeeease. i’ve always thought you were the kind of guy who talks people through it in bed. it’s the same here, just write it instead of saying it. tell me how you want me to touch myself

Your words hit him hard. He reread the message twice. He had never consciously thought about it before, but yes… that did sound exactly like him. Fragments of memory surfaced unbidden: the commanding tone he’d used with past partners, the way he’d instructed them. “Open your legs for me.” “Turn around.” “Look at me.” He remembered the way their breathing would change, the way they’d tremble under the weight of his voice and his hands.

Robby: you really want me to talk you through it, sweetheart?

You: yessss that was so much better. keep going

If anyone had asked you how it happened, you honestly wouldn’t have been able to explain it. You weren’t even sure yourself. One moment you were typing a slightly embarrassed apology to Robby for matching with him and the next, the conversation had taken a turn and you were the one demanding he sext you so you could get off. It was bold, stupidly reckless, and yet it felt inevitable.

Robby: good girl that’s exactly what I wanted to hear, i want you to get those pretty legs spread nice and wide for me, can you do that?

You whimpered softly and obeyed him instantly, letting your knees fall farther apart on the mattress. The cool air hit your exposed pussy making you shiver. 

You: yes. they’re open

Robby: Perfect i’d be on my knees between them right now if I could run your fingers up the inside of your thighs for me slowly, feel how soft they are

As you trailed your free hand up one thigh, you imagined his callused palms and the scratch of his greying beard following the same path.

You: doing it… feels so good thinking about your hands instead.

Robby: that’s my girl  now slide two fingers through your pussy and ell me how wet you are for me

You did exactly as he says, gasping as two fingers glided easily through your slick heat. You were soaked, embarrassingly so, the wet sounds filling the quiet bedroom as you stroked yourself.

You: So wet… i’m dripping. all because of you.

Robby: fuck i knew you would be i want you to circle your clit for me now Do it slowly and imagine it’s my tongue instead, licking you just the way you need i’d take my time, taste every inch of you

Your mons got louder, tipping your head back against the pillows as your fingers obeyed, traxing circles around your clit that sent sparks up your spine. In your mind, it was Robby’s mouth devouring you while his strong hands pinned your thighs down.

Robby: how does that feel, sweetheart? tell me

You: so good, i’m so sensitive. keep talking please

Robby: Good now slide one finger inside that tight pussy, nice and deep curl it up just like I would, searching for that spot that makes your legs shake i’d be watching your face the whole time, telling you how beautiful you look spread open for me, how good you are for listening

When you pushed a finger inside yourself, you curled it upward as instructed to hit that sensitive spot while your other hand kept working your clit in circles. 

Robby: add another finger and stretch yourself open i’d be so much thicker than your fingers, but we’ll start like this imagine me pumping them in and out while i rub your clit

Adding a second finger, you continued fucking yourself to the rhythm of his words on the screen. It was not enough, it was nowhere near enough to calm the hunger and desperation that was threatening to consume your whole being. You knew nothing would be enough, only feeling him inside of you.

You: wish it was you inside me. can’t get off like this. i need you robby please

Robby: you were the one who told me to do this 

You: i know i did. but it’s not enough send me your address

He was tempted, so tempted that for one second his fingers almost started typing on an impulse. But the reality crashed back in immediately. The risks, the morning after, the way he’d have to look at you during rounds, knowing what you’d done. He was rock hard and aching for you, but the responsible part of him still refused to crumble completely.

Robby: what for?  you’re not seriously thinking about coming over right now, are you?

You: robby i’m literally only like 2 miles away from you. are you dtf? not as dr. robinavitch and his resident, but as two adults who casually matched on tinder tonight. there’s no title or hospital here. it’s just us.

Two miles. You were so close. He stared at your message, feeling his heart slamming against his ribs. His cock gave another insistent throb, the head already leaking a little against his underwear. The thought of you actually coming over, right now, in the middle of the night, made his mouth go dry.

Robby: Send me your address and I’ll order you a ride. 

You sent your address a moment later. It really was only two miles away. He confirmed the ride, watching the estimated arrival time tick down. Fifteen minutes… only fifteen minutes until you’d be at his door.

You: this is exactly what i meant earlier about older guys. so much more gentlemanly. taking care of the details instead of just telling me to get there

You had no time to get ready, and honestly, you didn’t care. Makeup? Hair? None of that mattered when you were this desperate, this aching for him. You climbed out of bed still wearing the thin tank top and soft sleep shorts you’d worn to bed, and threw an oversized jacket over everything, one that swallowed most of your body and made you look far more put-together than you actually felt.

Your hands were shaking as you grabbed your keys and phone. The rideshare arrived sooner than you expected. The drive across the city felt both endless and far too short, but eventually the car pulled up outside his building.

You stood on the sidewalk for a second, staring up at the apartment complex, suddenly hit with the full weight of what you were doing, showing up at your attending’s door in the middle of the night, soaked and trembling with need, because a stupid Tinder match had spiraled completely out of control.

But you didn’t hesitate for long, you took a deep breath, pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, walked toward his door and knocked on it.

Robby opened it right away. He didn’t say a word, the second you were in reach, you had one of his strong hands cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. It was electric to say the least. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that stole your breath. His beard was scraping deliciously against your skin as he moved his lips with experienced urgency. You melt into it instantly, fisting your hands in his shirt, tasting the pure, overwhelming taste of him. Finally. Here he was, kissing you like he’d been starving for it just as much as you had.

He kicked the door shut behind him without breaking the kiss, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his taller frame. You felt the warmth of his hands roaming everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, squeezing the curve of your ass through the fabric of your shorts. In your mouth, he groaned, making a vibrating sound that went through you as he explored every inch he could reach, like he was memorizing the feel of you. 

Your breasts were the next to get his attention, he was cupping them with his big hands through your tank top, brushing his thumb over your already hard nipple, while he tangles his other hand in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

You pulled back just enough to gasp against his lips, “It took you long enough.”

Robby chuckled, the sound coming out breathless. “Took you long enough. You have any idea what it’s like waiting twenty minutes for you with a hard-on?” He pressed you closer, letting you feel the thick and insistent bulge against your stomach. 

As if they had a mind of their own, his hands couldn’t stop moving, squeezing, caressing, claiming, running down your back, over your thighs, everywhere he’d fantasized about touching. Before you could respond, he bent slightly and lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively. 

The strength in his arms, the way his broad chest felt against you, sent a fresh rush of heat between your legs. He carried you through the house with purposeful strides. The door to your room swung open and he layed you gently on the bed, climbing on top of you immediately until his full weight pressing you deliciously into the mattress. 

The kissing resumed instantly, slower now but no less intense. Robby’s mouth was moving from your lips to your neck, sucking lightly and scratching you with his beard in the most perfect way. Now his hands got bolder, continuing their exploration but this time sliding under your tank top, pressing his palms against your bare skin. He lifted the fabric higher, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room.

“Fuck,” Robby groaned, and maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you could see his soft brown eyes turning darker as he stared down at you. “Look at you. These tits… so perfect. So fucking pretty.” His voice was rough with want, the same commanding tone. He cupped them reverently, as if they were something precious, circling your nipples until they pebbled tighter under his touch. “They’re made for my hands. For my mouth.”

He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently at first, then harder, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. The wet touch of his tongue made you arch into him with a moan, threading your fingers through his hair as he kept lavishing attention on your breasts. 

From one side to the other, Robby switched sides, licking and sucking the other while his hand massaged the first, rolling the nipple between his fingers. The dual sensation, the tingly heat of his mouth and the firm squeeze of his callused hand, had you writhing beneath him, making you so wet you were soaking through your shorts.

The humming of his mouth against your skin sends sparks straight to your core. “So responsive,” he murmured, switching back to the first breast and sucking it harder than before. “These tits are going to ruin me. I could spend hours right here.” Sliding his free hand down your side, Robby gripped your hip possessively, continuing with the worshipping of your chest, licking broad stripes, sucking marks into the soft flesh, massaging and kneading until he had you panting and grinding up against the hard line of his cock through his pants.

The age difference between you only heightened everything, his experience was showing in every skilled touch, in every perfect flick of his tongue. He was being patient but hungry, like he’d been holding back for far too long. You could feel how hard he was, he was making you feel it, pressing insistently against your thigh. The knowledge that you did this to him made you even wetter.

Robby lifts his head briefly to lock his eyes on yours. His lips were swollen and his beard slightly damp with his saliva. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, but his hands never stopped, squeezing and caressing, teasing your sensitive nipples with his thumbs as he waited for your answer.

You shook your head, pulling him back down. You’d rather die than stop right now. “Don’t stop. Please.”

His mouth trailed a hot path down your sternum, over your stomach, scraping you teasinglywith his beard against your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His hands followed strong, sliding down your sides and gripping your hips as he settled between your spread thighs. The weight of him, the sheer size and presence of this man, made your core clench with anticipation.

“These shorts have been teasing me since you walked in,” he murmured with the same steady tone he used in the pitt, but now turned intimate and commanding. Robby hooked his fingers into the waistband and slowly peeled them down your legs, taking his time as he revealed more of you. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart. Good girl.”

You obeyed instantly, lifting your hips so he could slide the fabric off completely, leaving you in just your thin panties and the tank top. Robby smoothed his hands up your thighs, spreading them wider with gentle but firm pressure. “Keep your legs open like that,” he instructed you. “Nice and wide for me. Don’t close them unless I tell you to.”

You were already moaning softly, and he wasn’t even touching your core yet. Robby dropped his eyes to the damp spot on your panties, making the fabric cling to your pussy lips, and he let out a groan of desire and hunger. He cupped you over the fabric with one hand, pressing his palm firmly against your heated pussy while his thumb found your clit through the material and began rubbing slow circles.

“Oh god,” you moaned, twitching up your hips into his touch, seeking more of the contact. The friction was simply perfect, it was teasing, and it kept building higher and higher. Robby’s callused thumb was applying just the right pressure on your swollen nub. 

He watched your face intently through his hooded and lustful eyes as he worked you higher. “Feel good?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady even as his own breathing grew heavier. “You’re so wet already. Soaking through these panties for me. That’s it… rock against my hand, sweetheart. Show me how much you need this.”

Your moans only grew louder and more unrestrained, as he kept rubbing your clit with precision. The fabric added a delicious layer of friction, and every circle sent sparks shooting up your body. He got you gripping the sheets, your thighs already trembling as you fought the urge to close them around his hand.

Robby leaned down to kiss the inside of one thigh, scratching your skin deliciously. “You want my mouth? Want me to taste this pretty pussy? You gonna wrap these gorgeous legs around my neck while I do it?”

“Yes,” you gasped, nodding frantically. “Please, Robby. I need it.”

He hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down slowly, revealing your glistening, bare pussy to his hungry gaze. “Fuck… look at you. So wet and perfect.” He kissed along your inner thighs, taking his time, brushing his lips and beard against the sensitive skin as he worked his way closer. “Wrap them around me, sweetheart. Lock your ankles behind my head if you need to. I want to feel you holding me right where I belong.”

You did exactly as he said, wrapping your legs around his broad shoulders and pressing your heels into his upper back. The position left you completely open to him, vulnerable and exposed. Robby groaned, the sound vibrating against your core as he finally leaned in.

The first lick of his tongue was broad and slow, dragging from your entrance up to your puffy clit. The sensation was overwhelming, and it made you cry out loudly, threading your fingers into his greying hair as he began to devour you with the same intensity he brought to every procedure at work. He licked and sucked with precision, alternating between long and flat strokes to tight and quick circles around your clit. 

His beard was scratching your inner thighs and outer lips in the most delicious way, adding a kind of texture that made your toes curl. “Robby… Oh fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned, rolling your hips against his mouth. 

He hummed in response, pulling back with his lips glistening with your arousal just so he could speak to you. “Tell me how it feels, sweetheart. I want to hear it.”

“So good… your tongue—oh god, your mouth, Robby. It’s driving me crazy. Don’t stop, please.”

“You’re being so good for me,” he praised, diving back in to suck your clit into his mouth, flicking it rapidly while applying suction with his lips. 

Before you could register it, he teased your entrance with two thick fingers, slowly sliding them inside you, letting your own greedy hole swallow them. Once he curled them upward to find that perfect spot, the sensation had you moaning loudly and arching off the bed. 

Robby pumped his fingers steadily, matching the rhythm of his tongue with his digits. A few moments later, he stopped again briefly, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes and shiny lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Spread open for me, taking my fingers so well. This pussy is perfect, made for me. Keep moaning for me. Let me hear how much you love my mouth on you.”

You obeyed, your moans spilling freely as he returned to his task with renewed hunger. The pleasure built fast and faster, making your thighs tremble around his head and your feet dig into his back as you held him exactly where you needed him. Robby gripped your hip with his free hand, holding you steadily while he worked you closer and closer to the edge with expert skill. Every command, every praise, every flick of his tongue pushed you higher. 

Robby didn’t relent, he kept his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking with rhythmic pressure, devouring you like a man starved. “Robby—oh fuck, yes!” The pleasure was overwhelming, every single nerve ending in your body was alight as he worked you higher. 

“Keep those legs open for me, sweetheart,” he growled against your clit. “Don’t you dare close them. I want to feel you squeezing around my fingers while I eat this pretty pussy.” He added a third finger slowly, stretching you wider, the burn blending perfectly with the pleasure. “That’s it… take three for me. Feel how full you are? You’re doing so well. Such a good girl taking everything I give you.”

The wet sounds of his fingers plunging into your dripping pussy and his mouth sucking hungrily on your clit filled the air. You were soaking his beard, his chin, his wrist, but he didn’t care. Robby slid a hand under you, grabbing a firm handful of your ass and lifting your hips slightly off the bed. The new angle let him bury his face even deeper, working your clit with more precision while he fingerfucked you harder. “Just like that,” he praised you between licks. “Grind on my tongue, baby. Use my mouth. Show me how bad you need to come.”

You obeyed helplessly once again, rolling your hips and bucking them against him as the coil in your belly tightened unbearably. The pleasure built in powerful waves until your thighs started to shake violently around his head. Robby kept talking you through it, pushing you closer to the edge.

“You’re getting so close, aren’t you? I can feel this tight pussy clenching around my fingers. Come on, let go. Cum all over my tongue. I want to taste it. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”

The orgasm crashed over you with blinding intensity, making your back bow off the bed, a loud and broken cry tearing from your throat as your pussy spasmed hard around his digits. Your thighs were squeezing his head tightly, your heels digging into his back as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you. Robby didn’t stop though, he kept sucking your clit through the peak, curling and thrusting his fingers to draw out every last shudder.

You came harder than you ever had. So hard that your vision went white for a moment as the pleasure bordered on overwhelming. Your moans turned into whimpers as the orgasm slowly ebbed, leaving you limp and gasping on the bed.

Robby finally eased back, gently lowering your hips and kissing softly along your inner thighs. He looked up at you with dark and satisfied eyes. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “So beautiful when you cum for me.”

You lay there panting, your thighs were still twitching, completely wrecked and already aching for more of him. Robby climbed back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue. He was so close that his hard cock was pressing insistently against your thigh through his pants. 

“That was… amazing,” you whisper with your voice hoarse from moaning. “So much better than I ever imagined.”

Robby chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. “Yeah? Better than your hand?” His eyes were sparkling with lust. 

You laughed breathlessly, nodding. “So much better. Your mouth… God, Robby. I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He hummed in satisfaction, grinding his still-clothed erection slowly against your bare, sensitive pussy. The thick ridge of his cock was being pressed perfectly against your clit, giving him some much needed relief while teasing you both. “I loved doing that for you,” he murmured. “You were so good for me, sweetheart. So responsive, so wet. The way you moaned my name and squeezed my head with those pretty thighs… fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Robby rolled his hips deliberately, the friction making you whimper and arch up into him. You could feel how achingly hard he was and how much he’d been holding back. You slid up your hands down his chest, feeling the soft flesh beneath his shirt.

“I want you,” you breathed, looking up at him with need. “Please, Robby.”

He stilled for a moment, as if to pulling himself together. “Tell me what you want. Be specific.”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth invade your cheeks. “Your cock. I want you to fuck me. I need you inside me.”

Robby let out a groan, sitting back on his knees between your spread thighs. He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out the anticipation. You sit up slightly, eager to help, moving your fingers to tug his pants down along with his underwear.

“I’ve been dying to see you,” you confessed as you pulled his pants down his hips. He caught your wrists before you could push his boxers down.

Robby looked almost nervous, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Wait… I, uh—” He cleared his throat, flicking his eyes away for a second. “I haven’t trimmed down there in a while. This whole night was… unexpected. I would’ve cleaned up if I’d known we were gonna end up here.”

He said it like it was something to be embarrassed about. Like it might actually make you want him less. It made you soft, you cupped his jaw, turning his face back to yours.

“Robby. Do you honestly think I give a damn about that? It’s just hair.”

He let out a self-conscious breath, still looking a little defensive. “I know. I know it’s just hair. It’s just… it’s probably a fucking jungle down there right now. You don’t have to— I mean, you don’t have to do anything if it’s too much.”

The way he was trying to give you an out was almost painfully endearing. You shook your head. “Just let me see you,” you whispered.

You slid his boxers down his thighs and freed his cock, it sprang out, thick and hard, the head flushed in a dark red with arousal. It was beautiful, so long, girthy, with a slight upward curve, prominent veins running along the shaft. Exactly like he’d warned, there was a thick, dark mat of coarse hair at the base, dense and untrimmed. He looked completely natural, it was so him, deeply masculine and unpolished.

A fresh rush of wetness slipped down your inner thighs. Your fingers twitched with the need to touch him there.

You looked up at him through your lashes “I love it,” you slowly carded your fingers through the thick hair at the base of his member. “You look so fucking hot like this. I like every single inch of you.”

Robby’s whole body shivered under your touch. “God…” he rasped as he stared down at you. “You’re gonna kill me tonight.”

Almost with instinct, you wrapped your hand around it, stroking the shaft slowly from base to tip, feeling the heat and weight of his member.

Robby hissed in pleasure, twitching his hips forward into your grip as he watched your hand move up and down his cock. “Fuck, your hand feels good,” he groaned, letting you stroke him for a while, savoring the sight of your smaller hand working his thick length, making a bead of precum leak from the tip.

After a few moments, he gently stopped you, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Lay back down for me, sweetheart. Keep those legs open nice and wide. Just like before.”

You obeyed, lying back against the pillows and spreading your thighs for him. Robby reached over toward the nightstand, stretching one arm past you as he pulled open the top drawer. He rummaged through it for a few seconds, before his hand closed around what he was looking for.

A moment later he sat back, a condom held between his fingers. He held it up, searching for your eyes with his. “I’ve got this if you want me to wear it.”

You shook your head, reaching up to touch his arm. “No. I want you bare. I’m on the pill.”

You both knew it might not have been the smartest option, doing it raw, with nothing between you. But there was a deep, unspoken trust between the two of you, forged through long shifts, that made you feel safe. And in that moment, that trust felt solid enough to lean on.

The hunger that had taken over both of you made anything else almost unbearable. The need to feel each other completely bare, skin on skin, heat on heat, with nothing separating you, was overwhelming.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” He tossed the condom aside, leaning down to kiss you deeply again. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to feel all of you.”

He groaned, positioning himself between your legs and nudging the thick head of his cock against your slick entrance. The anticipation felt electric, this was the culmination of over a year of longing, of hours of texts, and now all that was left was this desperate connection. Robby gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he looked down at you with hunger.

The night is only beginning, and the way he’s looking at you promises he’s going to take his time ruining you in the best possible way.

As his cockhead was being rubbed up and down your folds, teasing your clit with every pass, coating itself with your juices, the sensation felt maddening, promising everything you’d fantasized about for so long. You whimpered, twitching your hips up instinctively to chase more contact.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Robby commanded you softly, the same authoritative tone that had guided you through countless procedures was now guiding you through this. He cupped your chin gently, tilting your face so your gazes locked. “Keep looking at me the whole time. I want to see you while I fuck you.”

You nodded shakily, unable to look away even if you wanted to. Robby continued rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness, drawing out the anticipation until you were squirming beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered against your mouth. “So wet for me already. This pussy is going to take me so well. Breathe for me, relax and let me in.” He pressed forward slowly, breaching your entrance with only the tip. The stretch was immediate and intense, opening you up inch by inch as he sank deeper. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, but you forced your eyes open, locking them on his as he watched every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“Easy, baby,” he cooed, stroking your thigh soothingly while the other braced beside your head. “You’re doing so good. Feel how you’re stretching around me? So tight and warm… fuck, you feel incredible.”

You moaned loudly as he continued sliding in, the deliberate thrust filling you completely until he was buried to the hilt, until his hips were flushed against yours. The fullness was overwhelming, his thick cock stretching your walls like nobody had stretched you before, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you.

Robby stayed still for a moment buried deep, resting his forehead against yours as he looked straight into your eyes. “There you go. All the way in. You took every inch.” He started to thrust with deep rolls of his hips that drag his cock along your walls with exquisite friction. “Wrap your legs around me. Hold me close while I fuck you.”

You did as he said, locking your legs around his waist and digging your heels into his lower back. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and you cried out in pleasure, digging your nails into his shoulders. Robby kept talking you through it, just like he knew you liked.

“That’s my girl. Feel that? I’m hitting that spot inside you, huh?” He angled his hips slightly, grinding deep on every stroke. Robby slid one hand up to cup and squeeze your breast, rolling your nipple as he thrusted harder.

Robby moved his hand from your breast to cup your chin. His grip was gentle enough not to hurt, yet firm enough that you felt every one of his fingers pressing against the bones of your jaw. “Look at me. Don’t look away. I want to see how good my cock feels inside this tight pussy.” He tilted your face up and held it there, leaving you no choice but to meet his eyes.

And God… what a glorious sight he was. This handsome man, with his face flushed, his brow glistening with sweat, devouring you with his gaze as he kept driving his cock into you.

His face was only inches from yours, and he kept fucking you in long strokes while he held your chin like that, as if he were starving for every single expression that crossed your face. He loved watching the way pleasure wrecked you. The way your lips parted around helpless moans, the way you bit down on your lower lip only for it to slip free again with a broken sound. The way your eyes went glassy and pleading, silently begging him for more even as your body trembled around his cock. He drank it all in like a man who had been thirsty for years.

With his free hand, he gripped your waist, holding you in place so he could drive into you with more power. Every slide of his cock stretched you perfectly, dragging the fat tip along your g-spot like that was what it was made for.

“Robby—oh god, yes!” You moaned loudly, raising your hips to meet his thrust and tightening your legs around him. Your tits were bouncing with every powerful stroke, and he leaned down to suck one nipple into his mouth again, flicking his tongue as he continued fucking you.

“You feel so good,” he groaned against your skin, switching to the other breast. “So tight and wet around me. This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it? Taking me so deep.” His hand on your waist slid down to grip your ass, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle as he thrusted harder. “Lift your legs higher for me, sweetheart,” he said against your neck,kissing and nipping the sensitive skin there. Ronny held the back of your thigh, helping guide your leg up. “That’s it… over my shoulder. Let me get deeper.”

You whimpered as he assisted you, hooking your leg over his shoulder. He did the same with the other, folding you nearly in half beneath him. The new angle allowed him to sink impossibly deeper, until he was pressing the head firmly against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, grinding against your g-spot relentlessly.

“Fuck—Robby, it’s so deep like this,” you moaned, fluttering your eyes shut for just a moment as the intense sensation washed over you.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he chided gently but firmly, cupping your jaw with his hand to tilt your face back to his. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Keep them open. I want to watch you while I fuck you like this. Don’t look away.”

You forced your eyes open, locking onto his hungry gaze as he continued hammering into you. The eye contact made everything more intimate and overwhelming. The feeling of his hand leavinf your jaw and sliding down between your bodies made you shiver. Robby found your swollen clit and began rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.

The combined stimulation was devastating. The pleasure was burning higher in your core, so close to finally exploding. Your body was arching and squirming beneath his frame as you scratched down his back and trembled over his shoulders. Every thrust, every rub of his fingers on your clit, every moan and grunt that escaped his mouth pushed you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” Robby groaned, never removing his sight from yours. “Look at you taking my cock so deep. You’re getting close again, aren’t you? I can feel it. Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you cum all over my cock. Keep your eyes on me when you do.”

You bowed your back off the bed as your climax took over your body. A loud cry tore from your throat as your pussy clenched rhythmically around his length. Your thighs shook violently over his shoulders and you dug your nails harder into his back when the waves of pleasure crashed through you. Robby sekpt thrusting through it, drawing out your orgasm with deep strokes and continued pressure on your clit.

“You look so beautiful when you cum for me… that’s it, sweetheart. Give it all to me. You’re being so good.”

By the time he finally slowed and gently pulled out of you, you were still trembling and gasping. Robby layed back on the bed beside you, with his cock hard and glistening with your release. “Come here, baby,” he said. “Get on top. I want to watch you ride me.”

He helped you shift positions, gripping your hips firmly to guide you as you straddled him. “Easy, sweetheart. Take your time… that’s it. Feel me right there? Let me watch you take every inch.”

You positioned the head at your slick entrance and began to sink down, inch by inch. The stretch was intense all over again, his girth opening you up as you lowered yourself onto him. Robby kept his hands still on your hips to steady you, stroking your skin soothingly while watching every expression on your face.

“Fuck, look at that,” he groaned. “You’re doing so well. Keep going… take a little more. Feel how full you are?”

Louder moans left your mouth as you sank lower, the fullness was overwhelming in the best way. Bracing your hands on his broad chest for balance, you finally took him to the hilt, resting your ass against his thighs. Robby squeezed your hips encouragingly. “Ride me. Roll your hips like that… yes, just like that.”

Whn you started moving, rolling, and grinding your hips in a steady rhythm, the pleasure built quickly. His cock was dragging along your walls as you found a rhythm that made your tits bounce and your clit grind against his pelvis.

Robby kept moving his eyes are everywhere, watching where your pussy stretched around his shaft, sliding up to your bouncing breasts, then locking onto your face. He reaches up with both hands, cupping your tits and rolling your nipples as you ride him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Keep going… faster if you want. Take what you need from me.”

Without a word, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it upward. He sat up just enough to help you pull it off, and the second the fabric cleared his head, your hands were on him.

God, you loved his body. Your moved your palm slowly over his chest, feeling the coarse hair and the thud of his heart beneath your fingertips. You dragged your hands lower, mapping the soft, rounded curve of his belly with desire. It turned you on more than any gym-honed torso ever could. As you pressed your palms into the softness, your fingers dag in gently. Then you smoothed your hands over it again and again, savoring the way it yielded under your touch.

You were mumbling praises and moans between gasps, completely lost in the sensation. “Robby… you feel so good… so deep… fuck, I love your cock inside me…”

At one point, Robby planted his feet firmly on the bed, bent his knees, and started thrusting up to meet you. The change felt devastating, he was now fucking you from below with powerful strokes that made you cry out loudly as he droveinto you. 

The slap of skin on skin grew louder when the slamming into you intensified. “Fuck—Robby!” you moaned, letting your head fall back as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Eyes on me if you can, sweetheart,” he growled, moving his fingers down to rub your clit again. “I’m getting close. You feel too good. You’re gonna make me cum.”

You were a moaning and squirming mess on top of him, riding and grinding as he thrusted up harder. His fingers on your clit and his cock hitting deep pushed you toward another peak, but it was his impending orgasm that had you focused on him.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, snapping his hips up faster. “Fuck—can I cum inside you? Please, I want to fill you up.”

“Yes,” you gasped, riding him desperately. “Cum inside me, Robby. I want it. Fill me up. Please—”

With a deep groan, Robby thrusted up hard one last time and came, pulsing nside you, flooding your pussy with thick and warm ropes of cum. He held you down on him, gripping your hips tightly as he emptied himself completely. The feeling of him cumming inside you, fully claiming you, triggered your own smaller orgasm, making your walls clench rhythmically around his pulsing cock.

You both stayed locked together, panting. Robby stroked your back and thighs as you came down from the high befor pulling you down against his chest, kissing your forehead, keeping his cock still buried deep inside you as his release slowly leaked out around him, so much that you could feel the hot nd sticky evidence of his climax.

There were no more walls, just the two of you, finally giving in to everything you’ve both wanted and repressed for so long. You stayed draped on top of Robby for a long stretch of time, both of you catching your breath as the intensity slowly ebbed. Eventually, you lifted your head and looked at him. “That was… amazing. I wouldn’t even have dreamed that it’d be that good.”

He hummed in agreement, continuing his soothing path along your back. “It was. Better than I let myself imagine. You felt perfect.”

The praise made a warm feeling bloom in your chest. After a few more quiet moments, Robby gently helped you sit up, easing you off his cock with a shared sigh. You both winced slightly at the loss of connection and the feeling of emptiness, but he pulled you down beside him on the bed, wrapping his arms around you again as you cuddled into his side.

“So… you don’t regret it, do you?”

He met your eyes as a small smile began tugging at his lips beneath the beard. “Right now? I can’t regret having amazing sex with you. My mind is still somewhere up in the clouds.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow when reality hits, but tonight… no regrets.”

You nestled closer, throwing one leg over his. The cuddling felt easy, natural, like you’d been doing this for years. For tonight, the outside world, the hospital, the guilt, the what ifs didn’t exist. There was only the two of you, and Robby might be right about reality hitting tomorrow, but right now, in the darkness of his room, everything felt right.

A/N: Two attempts at posting this fic, and two times Tumblr’s stupid AI mistakenly flagged it😭 I’ve spent days trying to figure out what was causing the problem and doing everything I could to finally get this fic posted for all of you. So if you’re reading this, it means it worked. Hopefully.

If you end up enjoying the fic, I’d really appreciate it if you could help me share it with a reblog (only if you enjoyed the fic) cause I’ve put a lot of work on it

Well, I hope you enjoyed this little something I worked on when inspiration finally struck me. I don’t know if I read it somewhere or if we all collectively decided it, but Robby absolutely feels like the type of guy who talks you through it. You’re telling me the man who spends all day teaching med students and residents how to do procedures wouldn’t also be guiding his girl in bed? It’s literally in his nature!!! This TikTok also got me inspired because, yes, he absolutely looks at you through it too.

I also think Robby’s canon texting style is weirdly inconsistent. In that scene in season one where he’s texting Jake, sometimes he starts messages with capital letters and sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he ends sentences with a period, sometimes he doesn’t. In my head, he has perfect grammar but deliberately tries to sound Gen Z and chill when he’s texting someone younger than him lol. Anyway, I tried to replicate that here too.

Thank you all so much for your patience. I really appreciate it, and I hope I can stick around for good this time🩷

he takes it, her red-faced toddler tantrum, and he's so calm, and it makes it a fucking humiliation ritual. she's so impossibly young, next to him. childish, immature. she shouldn't fucking be here. you're the one that should be saying no to me, she whispers finally as she slumps, face first into his warmth, hiccuping. you're the one that should— should be saying no. you know I won't. you know it. I fu— mm, I fucking hate you, robinavitch. m'gonna tell everyone about you.

I know, bunny, I know, is his reply, crooned softly, arms coming up to wrap her in him. she hates that stupid pet name almost as much as she loves it. you can tell anyone you want to, victoria. you know that. this is all up to you, kiddo.

you know it's not! she would shove away from him if she could find the strength, but it's drained from her now, leaving her weak, twitchy, unwilling to pull away from his embrace. you know it's not, you know I'm not gonna do that. I shouldn't have to be the one that knows better. you should fucking know better. this is your fault.

his breath comes out in a woosh, a heavy sigh, a hand rubbing circles over her back. my smart girl. huh? smartest little girl in the world. he pulls away just enough to slide down to his aching knees with a grunt, big hands coming up to rest on her hips, his brown eyes ever-earnest. but you're dumb for me, aren't you? he whispers, and she should fucking hit him.

poor thing. he kisses at her stomach through her clothes, makes her shiver, and it's embarrassing how easily her body reacts to him. how much she always wants it. maybe if he's a pervert, she's one, too. you like it, though, don't you? being daddy's dumb bunny? getting to cmere to my arms, my bed, throw your little tantrum til you're all tuckered out, let me kiss it better?

his chuckle is low, condescending, and she's... she's trying to hate it, she's really trying. she's starting to fuzz over already, a heartbeat between her legs, beating for him. he's nuzzling against her clothed pussy and making her whimper, hands threading through his short brown hair, trying to find a place to tether.

if she's gonna be stupid enough to keep letting this happen to her, maybe she should just let it feel fucking good.

there you go, little one, ohh, it's okay, he murmurs, reaching up to ease her shorts and panties down, helping her kick them off. his big hands slide back up her bare legs and she gasps, goosebumps erupting on her skin, shuddering at his touch. he grins, places a soft kiss over her mound, teasing and light.

please, she whimpers, and usually she fights back for so much longer. stays a brat until he fucks it out of her, fights him on this every step of the way. but she's tired. it seeps into her bones, makes her eyes glaze with tears. please, daddy, I wa—wanna feel good. m'sorry. m'sorry.

his eyes soften, hands rubbing gently at her thighs, making her feel weak-kneed and wanting. okay, bunny, shh, sh. gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart. daddy's gonna make it all better.

he nuzzles back into the space between her legs, and the sear of a hot, wet tongue parting her folds is bliss. she's never this sensitive when she touches herself, never feels anywhere close to the way he makes her feel. every inch of her alight, warm, buzzing with pleasure and need.

he works her over, lapping and suckling at her puffy clit til she's hiccuping cries, fucking his tongue inside her fluttering, dripping hole. he buries himself in her, groaning against her slick, nose grinding against her clit. nnnghh, daddy, please, she sobs, bucks her hips against his face, knowing he loves it. loves when she takes, fucking herself on his face, panting at the perfect, wet heat of his eager mouth.

it embarrassingly doesn't take her long to cum at all, soaking his beard, feeling the scratch of it on her inner thighs as he plunges his tongue back inside of her, licking at her walls for his own pleasure, drinking down her release. she's dizzy when he pulls away, loosens his grip on her enough that she slides to the floor. he's quick to tug her into his familiar lap, sliding a hand under her shirt, petting softly at her stomach. feeling her skin.

The three words that stuck to your brain throughout the entirety of 15 minutes. You were glad your face was pushed into the pillow and partially covered by your hair. Or else your boyfriend would see the flat expression that you couldn’t manage to cover up. Playing off your ‘pleasure’ with fake high pitched moans. It’s good enough to fool him, make him feel like he’s really doing something. 

“Oh gosh I’m gonna—!” He chokes on his words as his hips come to a halt. Forcing you deeper into the pillow and mattress as his hips stutter. Dumping another sad, sad load into the condom.

A deep sigh left your lips, as you rolled over on to your back. Your boyfriend pulled out and sat on his heels, panting like a dog. A stark difference in who really got to feel it tonight. 

This is how the routine went on. You enter his dorm room, while his roommate is gone for the evening. Laze around on the cramped bed, converse about your days, then go straight into the act. You grew to— you had to grow to get used to it. Did you enjoy it, like it? Like is a very strong word. Of course, you cherished every moment with your boyfriend. But after the ill-fated honeymoon phase passed, a deep pit had started to form in your stomach. One that screamed concerns from its very depths. 

But you aren’t shallow, never will be. You know there is more to a relationship than sex. He got you flowers on every date. Held doors open for you. You liked the way his fingertips felt when they ran over your scalp. You can learn to enjoy mediocre sex. Maybe he just had to be trained a little more. 

Who were you kidding? Why should you have to train your own boyfriend on how to make you feel good?

“So uh— did you finish too baby?” You cringed at the question. Sweet, simple Derrek. Too lost in his own pleasure that he couldn’t tell, in the last few weeks, you had not been able to finish with him at all. Forcing you to take the burden of saving his ego by lying to him everytime. 

“Yeah, yeah I did. Thank you, honey.” Forcing a soft smile on to your lips as you give his arm a soft pat. 

And on with the routine; exchanging a few kisses, pulling clothes back on, and getting ready to slip out the door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah baby?” He asked, holding the door open. The dim light of the dorm hall contrasted with the bright, warm light of his dorm room.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe. I might have to study extra tomorrow night for my microbiology exam on Friday. But, I’ll call your line.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re studying with Robby— You know I don’t like that guy.”

You turn your body to start walking away. Really to hide the massive eyeroll. “How many times have I told you not to worry about Robby?”

You finally slip away from the dorm. Hearing the heavy, wooden door shut behind you as you trail down the hallway, a deep weight lifts off your shoulders. Finally dropping the act that came with every intimate night. The act of pretending that you didn’t want to shake him and scream to finally make you finish. To listen to your needs for a change. Throw in a spank in or something. Call you anything but your name.

You float out of the building, walking through dark courtyards with students lingering around walking to the library or back to their own dorm. Not much is on your mind as you aimlessly stroll. Thinking about what to eat in your little stash of snacks. If it’s time to do laundry. If you’d have to let your fingers slip into your panties to feel some kind of release. Mundane. That’s all it felt like after evenings with your boyfriend. Not magical, blissful, or euphoric.

It’s not long until you are on the floor of your dorm room. Passing by closed doors, old flyers start to peel off the walls. As you approach your door, reaching into your bag for your keys, your eyes drift to the final door at the very end of the hall.

Resident Assistant | Michael Robinavitch 

Do Not Knock After 9 PM! - robby

Your lips curled up from its original thin line. You knew Robby would make an exception this one time. It’s only 9:07 anyway. He always knew how to lift your spirits.

Fleeting past 3 doors, standing in front of Robby’s. Knuckles rapping against cool wood. A muffled groan on the other side, followed by subtle padding of footsteps leading up to the door.

“How many times do I have to tell you people… Read the sign—” As the door opens, Robby rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. Stopped in his slight annoyance from your surprise visit. Leaning against the door as he softens.

“Well good evening to you too, Robert. Am I interrupting your 9 PM bedtime? ” you ask with a fake pout.

“Never sweetheart.”

The mere presence of you is enough to turn Robby’s evening indifference into something sweeter. Reciprocating your smile with a slanted smirk of his own. Jerking his head backwards, motioning for you to come in. l told you to stop calling me Robert, slipping from his lips as a mumble. 

Slipping your shoes off and dropping your bag by the door. Your body finds its new home in Robby’s bed. Falling back into the mattress, that is somehow more comfortable than yours, humming at the easing feeling on your back. And Robby is quick to flop right next to you. Lean arm folding under his head, giving him room to slide right next to you. Pressing your sides against each other. Your head rests on his arm as a cushion as you lean into his body.

According to other people (anyone that isn’t you and Robby), this is not how two friends hang out. Friends don’t cuddle, which you weren’t cuddling anyways. It’s for body heat, and dorm beds are tiny; there's only so much space to go around. 

Ok, maybe the both of you cuddle. Just a little bit. Locking arms, tangling legs, occasionally falling asleep in that position after long nights of studying. It’s for bonding! It’s hard to make meaningful friendships in med school. Everyone either is too busy to hang out, or lives too high up on a self-proclaimed pedestal. And that’s why Robby is your closest friend. Best friends even, that occasionally cuddle, sleep in each other's bed, and give the off handed kiss on the cheek. Completely platonic. Anyone who thought you were more was overthinking it. Especially your boyfriend, who was not too happy when you would catch you sitting too close for his comfort. 

“Friends don’t call each other honey and sweetheart!” Derrek would say.

Yes they totally can. 

“What happened to your night out with your boyfriend? What’s his name, Connor? Brian?” Feigning interest in his eyes.

“It’s Derrek, don’t be a dick Robby. And it ended a little earlier than I thought. So why not pay a visit to my second favorite guy?”

“You must have the wrong room because Freddie Prinze Junior isn’t in here.” You roll your eyes and bite back an annoyed smile. With the uneventful time you had with your boyfriend, you were not in the mood for more jokes. Rolling your body over to let yourself out.

Robby whines, grabbing at your forearm to pull you back in. Pulling you back to the position you were previously in; cradled into his side as you rest on his tricep.

“Heyyy, I’m joking. You know I have all the time for you. What’s on your mind?” He said while nudging your side with his hip.

With a huff, you sit up and press your back against the cool wall, pulling your knees to your chest. Shaking your head, searing denial into your brain. Robby was not the right person to talk to about your bedroom troubles. As much as you want to.

“It’s nothing. Just didn’t feel like going back to my dorm.” But Robby knew you better than that. He egged you on, pushing and prodding you to tell him more. What did you really have to hide from him? He told you everything and as did you. Even though he loved to tease and poke fun at you, he never tried to judge you.

Biting on the inside of your cheek, you look at him cautiously. “If I tell you this, you cannot tell it to anyone else. Like at all.”

“Oh, so I can’t tell Freddie Prinze Junior?”

You smack his arm. “I’m being serious Robby!”

“Ok, ok fine— What’s the matter?” Robby moves himself up, just like you did. Back against the wall and knees slightly bent. Taking a hand to hook under your bent knee and pulling your legs to drape over his lap.

You groan and lean your head against the wall. Squeezing your eyes shut as embarrassment began to creep up your face. As open as you are with Robby, admitting anything about your sex life with your boyfriend was hard. Maybe it’s because you were trying to be serious with Derrek. And vowed to not give Robby any ammunition in order to make him get along with your boyfriend. But the dull sex was weighing on you. You had no one else to vent to about it. 

“For the past few weeks, maybe a month… Derrek has not been able to…” your hands roll in motion. “Finish the job. My job, per say.”

Robby’s eyebrows scrunch, that smart doctor brain of his took a few seconds to catch your drift. His lips turned into that sickening smirk that you knew all too well. He was not going to let you live this down. 

“You’ve been letting that bonehead have sex with you and not let you finish?” He taunts the idea in the form of a deep laugh. You wanted to give him another swat on the arm for laughing. But, you knew better because you knew he was right to laugh. To develop an inside joke with you for later down the line with this new information. Something that will cause him to give you a knowing look anytime he is in the same vicinity as Derrek. A very, I know something you don’t know I know, look. One that came with a shit eating grin.

“It’s not that he’s not letting me finish, I just don’t think he really knows that I’m not finishing…”

Robby dips his head down to level his eyes with yours, eyes that have been avoiding his ever since the conversation started. 

“Are you telling him that you finished?” You nod sheepishly. He stifles a giggle behind his lips, shaking his head to shake away how much knowing your own boyfriend can’t satisfy you is elating him. 

Robby always knew that Derrek was not going to be good enough for you. You were a med student, top of your class during your undergrad. And he was just some guy. So uninteresting in Robby’s eyes, he didn’t know his major or care to remember his name. Robby can do a way better job, but he never really admits that to himself. Usually too busy with his roster full of other girls pawing their way to the top to even consider why he thought he would be a better choice for you. 

“So what— his dick too small? Or he’s a minute man?” Robby asks, another nudge with his elbow, egging you on for more. He is one of the nosiest men you know. But that’s because it was so easy to get the words flowing from you. So trusting of Robby you have no fear in telling him every detail.

“He lasts as long as he can! He kind of sounds cringey? When we have sex. I don’t know, hearing him grunt was not as hot as I thought it would be. He sounds like a pig. But any time we have sex, it’s just that. Not that exciting or freaky… It’s so vanilla.”

And there came the flood gates. Weeks of sexual frustration coming out in the form of broken words. Airing out everything to Robby. From how vanilla sex had been feeling, to how your boyfriend refuses to acknowledge foreplay as an important part of sex.

Just as Robby hypothesized; Derrek is fucking boring. He knew that from the very beginning. Hence, why he knew nothing about him, and didn’t care to know anything about him. And with this new information, he wanted to laugh harder than he should. Tease and rub it in your face that he knew all along that this guy was not right for you. To ditch him, find someone more in tune with your needs and intelligence. 

But Robby is a good friend, he wasn’t going to rub it in your face. At least not tonight, maybe tomorrow after a lecture. It hurt just seeing his best friend not get treated the way she deserves. He brings a comforting hand to your knee, rubbing his thumb over the fabric of your jeans.

“I just don’t know what to do! I don’t want to have to teach him how to have good sex. And it feels like it’s been so long since I’ve had good sex that I don’t even know what good sex looks like!” You whine. 

“What exactly are you missing?”

It felt shameful to admit, shallow. Admitting that you felt entitled to something more than a kiss and fuck.

“Well he doesn’t… he doesn’t do any of the things I want to do…” It’s too late to look sheepish in front of Robby. You were so willing to tell him about your bedroom troubles. He motioned you to keep going, more detail. Robby never liked vague details.

“He’s never eaten me out… or ever really does it the way I like too.” You get quieter with each word, shrinking into yourself. What a humiliation ritual, admitting to yourself and your friend how unsatisfied you have become in your relationship.

“And how exactly do you like it?” he pried, really interrogating you this evening.

“Like, toss me around or something! Pull my hair, I don't care!” Begging and pleading to the room. And Robby heard you loud and clear. 

“Poor girl, you really do have it the worst don’t you?” he said with a taunting frown.

“God, why did I even come to talk to you? What would you know…” 

A deep chuckle erupts from his throat again. Relishing how easy it is for Robby to push your buttons. You enjoy it though, enjoy that Robby doesn’t try to put up a nice guy act. He can meet you at your level and try to bait you into giving it back to him. 

“I’ll have you know I am a very generous person in bed. Always make sure the girl I’m with gets a chance to meet the finish line too.”

You narrow your eyes, mind whirling around how hard you found it to believe in his own words. Robby has always had a reputation of trying to sleep with any pretty thing that walked on two legs. You even had the misfortune of walking in on him and his fling of the week once or twice. He was known to sleep around. So, your mind wanted to fill in the blanks by thinking he was selfish in bed. Who can blame him? Robby was handsome and knew how to use his words well. As much as you want to be Michael Robinavitch’s number one hater, you heard the subtle whispers of girls talking about what he could actually do in bed. You refused to believe it, you know the real Robby.

“Really? Michael Robinavitch, the man that can’t seem to commit to one person for more than a month, has enough care in his heart to treat a girl right in bed?”

“Yeah, I’m wounded that you don’t believe me.”

“Because you’re full of shit.”

“Nope. If I was your boyfriend, you’d be creaming around my cock every night.” The way he said it so casually. Like it was just another passing thought in his mind. Talking to you like it would have no effect on you. It did have an effect on you, a big one. Widening your eyes in bewilderment, how could he just say that to you? Out of the blue?

You were put into fawn mode. Fingers freezing in an invisible grip, heat rising up your neck and flooding into the plush skin of your cheeks. Warm air catches in your throat, fighting with the urge to say anything back to him. The words are lost on you, he got you right under his thumb. Trapping you in a corner where you simply can’t move on from what he said. His forwardness and confidence gave your heart a little skip. As close as the two of you were, the topic of sex was never a hot one. Maybe a jab about being up too late because of sex. But this was new territory for you. 

“Yeah right… Ha ha very funny.” At this time of night, you weren’t really in a joking mood. Especially jokes at the expense of your own pleasure, which you had been seeking out for so long. 

“I’m not joking. If you’d let me, I’d show you a good time.” Robby’s hand that was once a comfort on your knee, slowly slid down to your thigh. His fingertips felt more of your warmth as they slipped to find comfort between your thighs. He managed to stay a respectful distance from your core, but close enough to make you aware of Robby’s growing intentions. Hooking his hold around your thigh, giving you a firm squeeze on your thigh. Your body instinctively pressed your thighs together.

“Stop Robby that tickles. Your room is so fucking dirty, you really need to clean it…” You were quick to try and change the subject. 

Robby was leaning in closer, eyes connecting with yours once again. His warm breath fanned against your face. A part of you was screaming inside to pull away, this is turning into a weird direction. You have a somewhat, semi-serious boyfriend. You pride yourself on loyalty. But that little devil on your shoulder was more convincing. Just hear him out. See what he has to offer. He’s your best friend, why wouldn’t he be telling you the truth? 

“You know I wouldn't lie to you sweetheart. Cross my heart.” His voice dropped to that boyish tone he would use to sway your opinion. A cute smile and a little sparkle in his eyes. Like a god damn puppy that was begging you to take them home. 

And before you could think further, his free hand reaches for yours, intertwining fingers. His large hand envelops yours as he pulls it to his lips. Goosebumps spread over your skin as warm lips press against soft skin. Traveling from the top of your hand, to the bottom of your wrist. A tender type of kiss you weren’t completely used to, especially from Robby. It powered down your defenses, tense shoulders relaxing. You were deprived of this kind of sweet intimacy, weakened by a need for more than the standard. Your eyes followed his movements, kissing your skin and petting at your thigh. Robby started leaning in closer, maneuvering his body to wedge himself between your thighs. Lips traveling up your arm, skipping to your neck. It sparked the long lost warmth in between your thighs that you haven’t properly felt in a long time. 

“Robby… we— I shouldn’t…” You stifle a mewl as he nips at the skin of your neck. “This isn’t right… ‘m with Derrek.” But your body betrayed your words. Softening underneath him as he slowly kissed up to your burning cheek. 

“I won’t tell, I know you won’t… just wanna show you what feeling good really feels like. It’s for science. ‘S that ok baby?” His voice is ringing in your head. Squeezing your eyes shut to try and rationalize it. “It’s not really cheating.”

For science, please. It’s so wrong, so so so so wrong. You crossed the line of cheating when he kissed your hand. Derrek has been nothing but good to you.But you’re buzzing with excitement. A slick forming in your panties that you were sure if Robby found, he wouldn’t let you live it down.

Robby hovered his lips above yours, a sliver of space between you. The slightest movement will close the gap, seal the deal of your betrayal. The logical side of your brain is telling you to stop and shake your head. Run away to your dorm and act like none of this ever happened. 

“Talk to me sweetheart. Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes Robby… please…” 

Who gives a fuck, you’re a girl with needs. And Robby is offering to help you meet those needs. 

With no time to waste, Robby’s lips seal onto yours. Licking himself into your mouth, teeth scraping together as his tongue swipes over yours. The lingering taste of coffee and toothpaste trickling onto your tongue. It was delicious, more than you should like. Tasting Robby’s day on his tongue. Nervous hands reaching up to Robby’s stomach, feeling his body through the boundary of a loose cotton t-shirt he used for sleeping. You can feel Robby smiling into your kisses, amused how you were so in tune with him already. He pulled away briefly, making you whine softly as he pulled the shirt from over his head. 

You have seen Robby shirtless countless of other times. This setting should be nothing new, but it was daunting on your mind. His knees perched between your legs, forcing you to stay spread open for him. A growing bulge in Robby’s sweatpants rutted against the fabric. Physical proof he wanted this just as much. You didn’t know you wanted it too, more so you felt your body pulling you in Robby’s direction. Taking you further and further away from Derrek. 

Robby brought his lips back to yours, licking at the seam, pushing his tongue past your lips to take its place against your tongue. Your mind growing a fog you don’t realize he plucked the button of your jeans, pulling the garment down past your knees and over your ankles. An unforgiving wet spot forming on your cotton panties. The cute white ones with pink lace on the waistband. 

“It’s like you knew this was going to happen didn’t you? Wearing cute panties for me.” He teased, tickling his fingertips on your navel. Threatening to go lower and lower. 

“It’s not for you Robby.”

“Yeah, but I bet I appreciate it more than he does, right?”

Your silence was a good enough answer for him. Looping his fingers under the hem of fabric and pulling it down slowly. Robby watches intently as it glides against your smooth skin. Like nothing, the panties disappear behind him, into the void with your jeans. Robby lets a deep, content sigh escape his lips. Sitting back on his heels as he takes in the sight of your drooling pussy.  Priding himself on how easily he made you a dripping mess. His hand caresses the nook of your thigh, traveling up to feel the warmth above your pussy. Robby pressed his thumb against your aching clit. A firm press, before beginning slow circles. Using your slick as a lubricant to easily glide the pad of his thumb around your clit. 

The muscles of your legs tighten and shake all at the same time. It's as if he was using your clit as a joystick, stirring your body to be at his mercy. With a swift motion, Robby’s free hand pokes two fingers at the slit of your cunt. You gasp, finally moving your eyes to watch as he slides the long digits between your folds. Silent squelching as his thick fingers rub against velvety walls. Struggling to hold in a moan, pathetic whines fails you. 

“Does that feel good baby? When I rub your clit and finger your soaking pussy.” It was vulgar the way he was describing it to you. Forcing you to picture it every way you can. You want to shake your head no, just to prove him wrong and remind yourself your boyfriend will always have your heart. But you’re not a liar. It felt good, amazing even. The most you’ve felt in a very long time. 

“I think she’s enjoying it very much.” Robby answers for you. Easing the pace on your pussy, curling his fingers up against that particular spot with each thrust of his hand. “Pussy is practically crying for me. I think she wants more… What about you honey… Do you want more?”

Never in the months that you have been dating Derrek, had he ever asked if you wanted more. Watching as Robby toys with your heat, you nod your head slowly. Eyes never moving from his movements to not miss what he does to you for a beat. His smile widens, perking his cheeks up. Robby is eating up seeing you unraveling for him in a way he thought he would never have the pleasure of seeing one day. 

He dips his head down, a quick swipe of his tongue up against your slit. Collecting your wetness on his tongue. You groaned and rolled your head back. Robby filled the gap between your clit and finger-stuffed slit by sucking his lips against the free space. Overloading your senses, feeling all of Robby against your pussy. Using everything he could possibly have, with the exception of his dick. He tasted the tart fluid in his mouth, humming into your flesh with satisfaction. Not too sweet, but not sour at all. The right taste that spurred him on to eat more of you. Robby gave his thumb a rest, replacing it with this mouth. Sucking on the bud and rolling his tongue against it. 

It felt like hours he had been ravishing at your sex, dizzying your head and eliciting mindless moans and cries from you. Music to his ears, sounds that he knew your boyfriend never heard genuinely. It will be etched in his brain for the rest of his waking life. Shaking knees coming to a halt when Robby finally pulls away, wiping your arousal away from his chin with the back of his hand. It was over too soon for you. He got you so close to the brink, why was he pulling away now. Bringing yourself to your elbows, huffing as he pauses.

It was rewiring his brain, staring at your soaked cunt. He remembered how it pulsed around his fingers during each movement. He swooped in to save you from Derrek at the right time.

“That good, huh baby? We can go two ways; I keep sucking on your sweet girl and make you cum on just my tongue, or make you cream around my cock. Just like how I promised.” he proposed, leaning himself back in to loom over you. His hands started at your thighs, pushing up to your stomach, slipping under the top you had left on.

Any reasonable girl that loved their boyfriend would realize how wrong this was and stop it. You should have stopped it a long time ago. You were a broken record in your own head; screaming at yourself to finish this and go back to Derrek. Admit defeat and learn to love the sex you had. It’s a shame, everyone has their vices, and this was becoming yours. 

“Don’t break your promise to me now, Robby.” 

He smiles smugly, tugging his sweatpants away and letting them fall off the bed. No boxers, nothing to give you a moment to adjust the sight of him. Long cock bobbing in the air, rosy tip that had the smallest drip of precum. What a whore, of course he doesn’t wear underwear to bed. Robby was consistent in proving your own prophecies wrong. He was much more well endowed than Derrek had been. You pull your top over your head, reaching around to unclip and slip your bra away from your body. In all your naked glory, Robby celebrated in his head. Plush curves and supple skin, how could your boyfriend fail in giving your body the best is deserved?

Robby pumps his cock a few times, inching closer to line himself up with your slit. When his tip finally prodded your folds, it made a sickeningly wet sound. Coating his tip in all of your built up sin. He reveled in the feeling of your pussy on his cock. Rolling his head back as he sunk deeper and deeper. Hips pressing into yours, the most skin contact the two of you have ever made outside of cuddling. The depths that his cock was able to reach pulled out a noise you didn’t know you could make. Raw and hungry, mewling as he stretched you out to a new size. You braced yourself by grabbing on to his forearm. Pressing your eyes shut to see the white stars in your vision. 

Robby started to roll his hips into yours, pulling his cock out half way then burying himself back to the hilt. His well tamed bush tickles your skin. He grabbed under your thighs, splitting you out and open. A deep stretch in your hip joint as he gave himself a better angle to thrust into.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck… Robby!” you try to keep your cries hushed, not wanting to rudely wake up anyone else on the form floor. 

The lustful sounds of skin slapping on skin as he deepens his stroke and quickens his pace. It echoed in your ears and pushed away any thought of your boyfriend. Large hand grabbing at your chin, squishing cheeks to get a good grip to guide your face up from the bed. 

“Open your eyes baby, you wanted this, why aren’t you watching?” A comforting stroke of his thumb as your eyes obediently open. 

Looking down to watch, the base of his cock disappears inside your pussy as he drags himself out and pushes back in. It was intoxicating, forcing yourself with the realization that this is what you were asking for. Begging the universe to give you one night of good sex. You held yourself up, eyes flicking from his face to your weeping cunt. It mirrored Robby, who was savoring the way you bit on your lip to stifle every little noise that came out of you. 

“Say it..” He managed to say between his own grunts and moans.

“S-Say what…”

“That I’m better.”

Smug mother fucker. He can’t just enjoy the moment and let you feel good. He has to keep rubbing it in that you’re willingly cheating on your boyfriend with your best friend. His thumb presses down on your clit, quick to make smooth circles around the needy bud again. Like pressing a button to get the words to come out of you. The sensations that brewed in your core were more than you were used to handling.

“Shit! Robby… you’re better!” 

He leans in close, the hand that was holding your face grabbing a fistfull of hair and giving it a taut tug. The mild pain on your scalp went straight to your core, walls squeezing down around him. A dark chuckle erupting from his throat.

“Better at what, dirty girl?”

He was stirring the pot with his words, berating and shaming you. You liked— loved it. Making you get off on your unfaithfulness. Another tug with his hand, the pressure of his thumb on your clit getting harder.

“You’re better at fucking me! You’re so much better Robby.”

“That’s my girl.” He praised. 

That long lost knot inside you grew tighter and tighter. Toes curling as he thrusted into you like he was on a mission. As that knot snaps, you finally come around his cock, that deep loss of dissatisfaction is no more. It’s fireworks in your core, writhing in his hold as he fuck you through your orgasm. He kisses your bare shoulders and necks, whispering praises into your ears as he chases his own high. 

“Such a good girl… Being a slut for me and letting me show you how good you can feel…”

His grip on your hair and thigh tighten, the edges of his fingernails sure to leave a mark later down the line. Rutting his hips into yours as his thrusts become uneven. Robby catches his release. Spurts of warm liquid flood your insides, painting your walls with his load. You couldn’t have cared less that he didn’t use a condom. It was worth it to experience the cloud you were floating on called bliss. Derrek is finally an afterthought. The shortlasting euphoria was worth it. Even though, when you lie awake tonight, you’ll remember what you have done.

Robby pulled himself away, a trail of your juices mixed together and coating his cock. A dripple of cum starting to leak from your slit. Catching his breath, he slides himself next to you, running his arm under your neck to pull you in close. A soft kiss on your forehead. For how wrong he was for making you cheat, he still made you feel good about it in some ways. Knowing he would be ready to comfort you in any way you’d ask when you eventually dump your boyfriend.

“So… what did we learn today?” he asks.

“It’s way better when you do it.”

a/n pt2: hello taglist i have not used in a long time LMAO

The sun dawns on a new day, a new environment. This is the first thing you register. Then it's long, thick limbs wrapping around you. Light snores are next, a woodsy cologne shortly following.

You're with Robby. Officially. As of yesterday, he's your new roommate.

A smile pulls at your tired muscles at the thought, the joy far outweighing the trudges of sleep trying to pull you back.

Your arm's alive next, fingers gently scraping the nape of his neck. It seems you're just as wrapped up in him.

A low growl vibrates his chest, a small laugh escaping your lips. He shakes his head against you, not unlike a dog, another huff rocking him.

"Good morning, old man," you tease, pinching the bare skin of his side.

The extra pudge there is kind to you, relaxed and folded over the waistband of his boxers. He's not conscious enough to tense away from you just yet, to hide himself.

You're slightly worried that your fingertips will bring unwanted attention to the area, but the soft scrape of your nails against him is comforting enough that you simply just don't care.

He seems to feel the same, thankfully, his eyes fluttering closed once more, a breathy shudder shaking him. You press your fingertips deeper into his skin at the sound, a cute little squeeze to remind him where he is.

He jumps a little at your pinch, a sweet smile on his sweet face. He snuggles in closer to you, head planted firmly in your neck as you both come back to life.

"When are you going to the store, baby?" You rasp, and he presses a kiss to your neck.

"After I have my coffee," he grumbles. "Store probably doesn't open until 8 anyway."

You hum, glancing over at the alarm clock on Robby's side of the bed, 6:38 a.m.

You groan, throwing an arm over your eyes. Mornings are not your best time of day.

"So dramatic," Robby teases, stretching his long form around you.

"What else is left for you to get for today?" You poise, and he twists his lips in thought.

"I need to pick up the cake, plus some extra snacks, maybe some more soda…" he lists off, and you smile.

"We have plenty, baby, don't overextend yourself. You're going to be grilling all afternoon," you point out.

He considers this, rocking his head from side to side.

"Is it weird that I'm nervous?" He admits, eyes flitting from yours towards his duvet.

"No, it's not weird, baby," your nails graze his jawline, he still won't look at you. "Your emotions are never weird. Let's talk about it, though.""

"You're sweet, y'know that?" He grumbles, eyes finally finding yours again.

You smile at what greets you, his wide, vulnerable eyes, parted lips and rosy cheeks. The perfect picture of the frazzled doctor you'd fallen in love with. Though you were concussed and freezing, he was pretty from minute one.

"I don't know, I just want today to be perfect. Want you to be happy," he grumbles, raking his fingertips up and down your arm. "

His touch erupts a trail of goosebumps in its wake, his words freeing reckless butterflies in your tummy.

"It'll be amazing," you promise, a small smile on your face. "We'll make it amazing, just by being us."

You place a palm on his belly, jiggling the loose skin there. He chuckles, low and self deprecating. You kiss his neck, soft little pecks that leave him shivering.

"Jack keeps teasing me," he grumbles, "telling me I'm 'down bad'?" The unfamiliar lingo scooping up at the end.

You throw your head back and cackle, squeezing his forearm in your fingertips.

"Well, picture yourself a year ago. Did you ever think you'd be hosting a housewarming barbecue with a girl who just moved into your place?" You poise, and he shakes the question around in his head.

"No," he admits, you both knowing full well where he was a year ago. You're coming up on the Fourth of July, nearly a year since his sabbatical, a year since you'd first met. "I honestly didn't know where I'd end up."

The implication of his words weigh heavy between you, his fingers fiddling with yours. Your fateful E.R. trip happened to fall on the day before Robby's sabbatical started, the start of your relationship blooming in his newfound free time.

"I'm proud of you," you mutter, and this seems to do the trick.

He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. He then releases you from his grip, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

You train your gaze along the expanse of his back, counting all the freckles you've traced along the skin.

His joints crack as he stands, a soft groan falling from him as he stretches his back, chest puffing out.

He turns back to you, face softening at your pout.

"Ooh, what is it, angel?" He coos, and you snuggle deeper into the sheets.

"Missing you," you mutter, and he tsks.

"Dramatic girl," he tuts, maneuvering around your newly shared room, throwing an old shirt over his head. "Want some coffee, baby?"

You nod, your gaze following him around the space. Robby in the mornings is a sight you're gleefully getting used to.

"Vanilla?" He asks, trailing his fingertips along the edge of your bed, waiting for your confirmation.

You grumble a soft 'yes', before your eyes start to drift closed. He taps your butt, a reminder to stay awake, before exiting to the kitchen.

The strong aroma of coffee beans fill your shared space, wafting in from the other room. The soft hint of vanilla is nearly Pavlovian. alerting your senses before any caffeine has actually entered your bloodstream.

It's not long until Robby comes back, a forest green mug in his left hand, a soft pink one in his right. You gratefully accept, sitting up and giving him your prettiest 'thank you' eyes.

He smiles, reaching down to give you another kiss.

It's sweet domesticity for the next hour, sitting between his legs, his free hand in your hair as you aimlessly talk. It's your first morning together as roommates. and you wouldn't be mad if all your mornings got to look like this.

He's true to his word, though, and at 8 o'clock, he promptly slips out of your grasp.

"Mmph!" You groan, flopping back onto the pillows. "Come baack!" You whine.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, love," he calls, teasing from the walk in closet.

"Agree to disagree," you respond, though all your gusto is promptly knocked out of you at the sight of him.

The buttery athletic shorts you got him for his birthday cling and flow around him, and he's pulling an old band tee over his head as he walks out of the closet.

Your jaw drops slightly, not used to seeing him like this. He's scruffy, hair and beard mussy and untouched.

"What…?" He asks, slowing down at the door.

"Just pretty," you respond, snuggling into his pillow. "Love you."

He melts at this, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips.

"Love you too, my angel girl. I'll be back, okay? Rest up," he mutters, and then he's out the door.

You're out of bed before he comes back, denim shorts hugging your hips and thighs, a red tank top to match.

It's his turn to stop when he comes back, balancing a large sheet cake in his big hands. You turn at the waist to see him, arching your back at an angle you know drives him crazy.

The company is hours away from arriving, so why not start your teasing early?

"Hi honey! Have any luck with the extras?" You chirp, walking over to help him set the cake on your kitchen island.

Your heart warms at the red writing that spans across the white icing— "Our First Housewarming."

You smile, looking up at him through now damp lashes.

"You anticipate on having more housewarmings together?" You tease, sipping your third mug of coffee and not really expecting much of an answer.

"Of course," he says. It's nonchalant, like he doesn't have a care in the world. "We're gonna want to get a bigger house when we're ready to have kids, no?"

You choke, the caffeinated liquid sputtering from your lips. Turning away in an attempt to preserve the cake, you bend over and allow your cough to rack your body.

"Woah! You good there, angel?" He asks, rubbing soothing circles over your back. "Don't wanna have kids with me, eh?" He teases, and your heart hurts at his self--deprecation.

"You know that's not it, baby," you quip back, taking deep breaths to settle yourself. "Just surprised me, is all."

"Okay, honey," he mutters, his touch never leaving your body.

You turn to him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a sweet hug. His hands find your waist, greedily running against the skin peeking out between your top and your shorts.

"We'll have kids one day, for sure," you say into his neck. He squeezes your waist at your words, and you smile. "Let's just get through this first housewarming though, okay?"

You pull your head back and he nods, pecking you on the lips.

"Let's get set up baby," he quips, pinching your side before moving around you. "Get your suit on, gonna be a hot one."

You smile at his obvious attempt to see you in your bikini all day. Regardless, you oblige. Flitting to your room, you wiggle on the new red and white polka dot bikini he surprised you with last night.

It's a scorching day, the early July heat relentless. You can tell by the way the sun beats down out the window, illuminating the backyard deck, the pool glimmering a quenching blue.

You do a 360 in the full length mirror, twisting and turning your body for the best angles. You pinch and squeeze at the extra skin of your sides, the pudge of your tummy.

You're unsure, but if Robby thinks you're beautiful, that's all that matters for today.

You grab a matching sarong, sliding it on for a bit more coverage. This helps your feelings of uncertainty, turning to find Robby leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh, gosh!" You squeal in surprise. "How long have you been there?"

He shrugs, walking closer to you.

"Since you pulled the bottoms over your cute ass," he replies, hands immediately finding your ass beneath the thin fabric.

Heat blooms in your stomach as you fall into him, groaning into the great expanse of his chest.

"Don't do this to me right now, the backyard isn't even close to being ready," you mumble, and he gives you a teasing squeeze.

"Go ahead, baby," he starts, the point of his nose pressed against your temple. "I have it all set up for you, just need to put it all out."

A wave of gratitude washes over you, your relief a sigh escaping your chest.

"Thank you, bub," you reply. "Don't know how I got so lucky."

You look back up at him for this, making sure the words really sink in. He just nods, his own little confirmation. You squeeze his hands in yours before you make your way to the yard.

He's right, and you're taken aback. Various pool floats lay there, already blown up in full. Tablecloth packages line the bar, as well as multiple soda, seltzer, and beer packages resting against the drink fridge, the extra coolers he bought 'just in case'.

Half the work you thought you had to do is now slashed in half, thanks to the big teddy bear currently preparing the world's largest charcuterie behind the sliding glass door.

You smile, and get to work.

The pool floats go in first, as this is your favorite part. It's the best thing to see— reds and pinks and white littering the blue water. You stare down to the bottom, at the crystal blue paint lining the bottom.

One day you'll convince Robby to paint it pink. But for now, you decide it's time to set up the patio furniture. Unwrapping the tablecloths, you lay them out, moving to the endless Dollar Tree bags, full of different table toppers and themed plastic cups.

Your heart swells at the thought of Robby, glasses on, brows furrowed, wandering aimlessly through your local dollar store, plopping anything red, white, and blue into the cart.

There's a whole separate bag of pink decorations, too. Something that most definitely can be attributed to his desire to please you.

You smile, eyes nearly tearing up when the glass door slides open. Darting your head up, you give him a sweet smile. He revels in this, maneuvering quietly past you to grab a Dr. Pepper from one of the coolers.

"Ah! Dr. Robinavitch!" You scold, swatting his backside as he's bent over.

He doesn't even react anymore, your affinity for his ass the exact opposite of a secret. He does respond to the title, though, whipping around to face you.

His brows are wild, eyes bugging out.

"I'm sorry…WHO?" He demands, cracking open the can with one hand.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip at this, the reminder of how large his hands are not doing you any favors.

"Is that not your name?" You play into his attitude, swaying your hips as you walk towards the bar.

Popping behind it, you grab a Diet Coke for yourself. You hold it out for him, knowing he'll help you open it. Neither of you want you to break a nail.

He copies his previous motion in the other hand, your tongue now darting out to lick your lips.

"Thanks, Mikey," you murmur, and he eases at that.

"Good girl," he whispers, nose to your temple once more, before going back into the house.

It's scary how well you guys work around each other, the way you seamlessly fit into Robby's life, his space. Your heart pounds as you watch him through the door, the relentless beat of something very real echoing in your ears.

The mid morning flits past, full of you darting around every inch of the yard, stretching streamers over the wooden fence, topping each table with a cute summery centerpiece.

It's jarring how quickly you've felt at home in Robby's place, the little adjusting you've had to do. While this might change over time, you've surprised yourself today, at how perfectly you've blended in with the hosting duties.

They're split pretty evenly between the two of you, you assuming most of the decor, Robby the food. You were worried about throwing such a lavish party the day after your move, but you haven't really had to lift a finger throughout this whole process.

You recall the weeks beforehand, spent curled up next to Robby while he looked over expenses, the best places to find hot dogs and hamburgers in bulk, the cutest decorations. You got to have most of the say there, thankfully.

The one thought that persists. is how badly you want to do this again. How badly you want to merge your friends and his friends, how badly you want to work parallel to each other, to promote this place as your own.

Squinting your eyes, you walk inside, adjusting to the indoor lighting. Your vision focuses on the large man in the kitchen, cutting up watermelon and defrosting the meat.

You walk around him to the cupboards, reaching up to get pitchers for your drinks. Piling the glass with various fruits, you bump hips with him before heading back outside.

You feel his eyes on you as you walk past, blowing him a kiss over your shoulder before sliding the door shut with your foot.

A lot of juicing, blending, and mixing later, you're tucking different concoctions into the outdoor fridge. Colorful mocktails resting alongside the alcoholic beverages, and you only close the door once you're satisfied with your work.

Looking at your phone, your heart drops at the time that appears.

By the time you run through the kitchen, wash your face, and dab it with a little bit of makeup, you hear Robby welcoming in the first guests.

He'd changed in the meantime, a half buttoned linen shirt flowing over swim shorts. You have to bite your lip to hold back the moan, and approach the group that's gathered at the stoop.

It's so easy being on his arm, smiling and welcoming in your loved ones. Hospital people you recognize begin to float in, the first staggered members of the Pitt making their appearance.

A quick hour of introductions and cracked beer cans rolls by, and soon enough, the sun has warmed you inside out, a soft bead of sweat picking at your brow.

The clack of your kitten heels echo around the deck as you flit from guest to guest, refilling drinks and pointing in the direction of the bathroom.

Robby's done a pleasant job at keeping your own glass filled, as well. Over the course of your relationship, he's mastered the art of keeping you perfectly tipsy, without over-serving.

You feel these effects ever so slightly, a pleasant buzz ringing in your ears, as you float around the party.

You're eventually corralled into a break by some of your girlfriends, who have, undoubtedly, linked up with Trinity, Dennis, and Victoria. While this combination can only spell trouble, you're eager to slide off your sandals for just a moment.

You sink into the couch decorating the patio, legs hanging over its arm. The new position allows your shoes to dangle, falling to the concrete with a soft 'thud'.

A certain flick, hiss, fills your ears, and your head turns to find Robby, twisting the knobs of your grill, a pile of raw burgers and hot dogs stacked a mile high.

You pause for a moment to take in the sight. He's in his same outfit from earlier, his tummy on full display, though now it's partially covered with a 'Kiss The Cook' apron— a gag gift from Jack.

Your heart flutters in your chest at the domesticity, the ease with which he mans the open flame, dropping searing meat onto the charred racks. It's so masculine, in that old fashioned way Robby is, heat blooming warm within your belly.

A group of doctors soon fill your line of vision, and you allow yourself a few more minutes of reprieve until you snap back into host mode. You silently analyze the bunch, attributing the sharp cheekbones and defined muscles to…orthopedics, you're pretty sure.

There's one in particular-- a significantly large man with huge arms crossed over his chest, eyeing you like prey. A nervous thread stitches itself in your chest, unraveling the longer he leers.

"Oh, God," you hear Trinity groan, and you turn to look at her, brows knit in confusion.

"What?" You ask, tongue darting out to wrap around your straw, slurping the fruity, slushy drink Robby had made you moments before.

The three Pittlings all exchange a look, and you sit up, heart beating in your chest.

"Park the Shark's got his eye on you," Dennis supplements, and the gears turn in your hazy mind. "He's harmless, but he's most definitely going to try and flirt with you."

From the other side of the couch, your friends sit up at this news, heavily tuned in to this new development. You roll your eyes at them, and they can only shrug, in a way that says, 'can you blame me?'

Unfortunately, you can't.

"That's harmless?" You poise, and they exchange understanding looks. "Does he not know who I am?" Normally, you'd feel embarrassed for asking such a selfish question, but it's your party, dammit.

"It really doesn't matter either way," Victoria mutters, lips twisted in an awkward purse. "He will still try. He's relentless."

"And you look bomb as fuck," Trinity adds, and your cheeks heat up, reveling in the complimentary agreements from the other people there.

"That's true!" your best friend, Susie, chimes in. "Your old man's gonna hate that, though," she adds, nodding to Park.

You twist your lips, his eyes still glued to you. Swinging your legs over the couch, you decide to take the bait. Swinging your hips, you approach the group. Features lighting up, a smooth 'hi!' spills from your lips.

"How are you all?" You're diplomatic, a sweet smile painting your lips, shaking hands and making eye contact. "Do any of you need anything? Everybody have something to drink?"

You look at each of their cups, confirming your question before their pleasantries float around, reassurance in each syllable.

"I mean, I could be better," a smooth, low voice drawls. "You available?" This elicits an eye roll from the rest of the crew, some scoffs echoing out.

"You're digging yourself a deep hole, Park," mutters one of them, who you're pretty sure is Garcia, if the way Trinity was gazing at her was any indication.

You play ignorant, smiling and nodding, though your fingers grip your cup even tighter.

"How could I not?" He smirks to his colleague, lifting a hand up as if to say, 'what else am I expected to do?'

"You know, one day, Park, you're going to make some lucky girl very uncomfortable," you smile, "but it's not me."

He pouts at this, and you can't help but roll your eyes. The others around you begin to disperse, and you very quickly regret your actions. The bravado that got you on your feet moments earlier is dwindling by the second, cowering under his heavy gaze.

"That's not fair," he murmurs, taking a step closer. "You don't even know me."

"I don't know if I want to, given that relationship status is suggestive for you," you cross your arms over your chest, immediately regretting the way it pushes up your boobs.

Park's eyes immediately flit there, and you drop your arms. He pouts again, but still, doesn't tear his gaze away.

"If I was in a relationship with you, I'd never stray, beautiful," he croons, his attempt to be smooth nearly making you gag.

The gazes of your friends burn into your back, and you know they're hanging on to every word. You think you even hear a 'gross!' from Trinity.

"You know, I have to admire how openly you're flirting with the host of this party, who's actively living with your colleague," you remark, and one of them sputters on their drink.

Park cocks a brow at this, and your tummy rumbles with anxiety. The gleam in his eye lodges itself under your skin, making a home there. Robby's never looked at you this way, thank God.

"Well, I'm always open for a challenge," he sidles up closer to you, completely ignoring the others surrounding you. "Never really understood what you were doing with Robinavitch. anyway. Too pretty for that sad sack."

Stomach curdling with disgust, you offer him your best tight lipped, irritated smile.

"I'm not a challenge, I'm a person," you quip. "A person who is never going to sleep with you. Don't hold your breath."

"Hm, i might," he hums, "only if you're into it," he smirks, before walking away.

Your gaze follows him, watching him traipse through the party like he pays rent. Your heart pounds as he makes his way closer to the grill, clapping Robby on the back before leaning in to whisper something.

Robby's eyes find yours, his face falling the more he talks. Confusion and anxiety a perfect storm raging your insides. It feels as if a grater is running through your stomach, shredding until you're nothing left but scraps.

Your fears are confirmed when he finds Jack, handing him the apron and tongs, running inside. Tears sting the back of your eyes, and you dart your gaze back to the group of your friends.

Their faces mirror your emotions almost exactly, wide eyes, raised brows, and slacked jaws. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, and you nearly trip over yourself on your way into the house.

It's a sad attempt to maintain your smile as you greet the partygoers floating in and out of the house. There's not many, just people using the bathroom or refilling waters.

You hastily make your way to the other side of the house, the voices of the party-goers fading into the background. Heart pounding in your ears, you find the bedroom door cracked.

Inside you find Robby, tucked away in the en suite bathroom. He's planted in front of the mirror, left hand propped on his hip, right smoothing down his neck.

You instantly recognize this regulation tactic, one you've frequently seen him use in your time with him. Heart breaking, you push the door the rest of the way open.

The creak catches his attention, and his head snaps toward you. He relaxes only slightly when he realizes it's you, but shame soon takes over. Turning to you, he wraps himself in his open shirt.

You don't let him get very far, meeting him where he's at and stopping his arms from moving.

"Hey," you whisper, mouth ghosting his. "You know I wasn't giving into him, right?"

He nods, though he's avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah, 'f course, not that I was worried about," he grumbles, and you tilt your head.

"What are you worried about, then, my love?" You smooth your hands up and down his forearms, reveling in his little shiver.

"Worried that maybe he's right," he responds, face fully parallel to the ground now. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, hands covering his reddening face.

Tucking a finger under his chin, you pull until he's looking at you. Upon seeing his face, you almost regret it.

His eyes are big and shiny, droopy in a way they only get when he's truly heartbroken. He's biting his lip to stop him from trembling, and his cheeks are rosy.

You can't help but cup them, running your thumbs along his cheekbones. Giving him a sweet pout, you ask, "what's wrong, hm? What did he say to you, angel?"

He tries to look down, you only grip him firmer. He lets out a huffy exhale, as if he's annoyed— which, to be fair, he probably is. You simply don't care, his well-being is more important than his intense dislike for talking about his feelings.

"C'mon," you whisper, sinking into him. Looping your arms around his neck, you smile when he grips your waist. "Talk to me, Mikey."

He sighs, and you know the name got him. He has never been able to resist the way you purr the nickname, one he hadn't been called since early childhood. You feel a twinge of guilt for playing so dirty, though you justify it for your cause.

"Said he could tell you were thinking about his offer," he starts, an your blood is instantly on fire. "That I need to satisfy you more. That I must not be doing a good job if his girl is willingly approaching him."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You scoff, rearing your head back. "Baby, I need you to know that when I first approached him, he was in a group. He'd been staring me down for like, ten minutes, and I thought I could polite my way out of it," you roll your eyes at what looks, in hindsight, like a confirmation of his stares.

"I'm so sorry, honey," you kiss his cheek. "I should've ignored him, should've listened to my gut," you kiss his other cheek. "How are you feeling about that?"

This is a newer question for the two of you, as you find it yields better answers from him than 'how are you doing?' Robby proves your point, another sigh accompanying what he says next.

"Ashamed," is the first word, and he's successful in this attempt to avoid your eyes. You pout, but let him continue. "Embarrassed, disgusting," he continues, and you're not sure how much more of this your poor heart can take. "Like you'd maybe be happier with someone like him."

This breaks you, and you pull him into a sweet hug. He clings to you, his head resting on your bicep as he desperately quells the cries that shake his body. Dotting kisses along his head, you scrape your nails down the back of his neck.

He lets out another sob at that, though you can tell it's from the relief you're providing. This eases your heart, but only slightly.

"I love you, Mikey. Yeah?" You're desperate in your search of his confirmation. Enclosing his cheeks once more, your hands pull him back to you, heart clutching as the streaks rolling down his face.

He nods, and you lean down to kiss his lips.

"I don't know why," he whispers, lips ghosting yours. "I don't know what I've done for you to love me, I don't get it."

Your heart clutches, and you plop yourself on his lap. You revel in the newfound closeness, pulling him to you as you straddle him. He backs up on the bed so you can have some more stability, a large hand splaying over the small of your back.

Dysregulation be damned, he waits to continue until you're settled back on him, fully bracketed in his arms. He clings to you for dear life, the point of his nose resting on your temple.

"You protect me," you tell him, "even when your brain is being mean to you." You tap two gentle fingers onto his temple. "You made sure I was nice and safe and cozy, even when I know what you're telling yourself right now."

You don't want to go to deep into that thought spiral, afraid you'll be the one to start crying. Though, you do always have a pretty solid guess of the thoughts swirling around his mind in times like these.

You'd dealt with it yourself, feelings of self hatred so deep it feels like you want to rip your skin apart. It's partially why you connect so well with Robby— buried, past traumas blooming into the bouquet of your relationship.

The first hand understanding of these moments has benefited your relationship multiple times, for both parties. It's not work when it's him, helping him heal his heart has never once felt like work.

"You…open my doors," you plant a kiss on his forehead, eyes trailing over every inch of his pretty face. "Pull out my chairs," kiss to his cheek, "pay for my food," kiss to his other cheek, "you cherish me, baby."

You punctuate this with a sweet kiss to his nose, but, to his everlasting dismay, you're not done.

"You have a good heart," your lips ghost over his, your voice dropping to a whisper. "A good soul," you peck his lips. "I see you, Michael. I know who you are, I know what I've gotten myself into."

Tears are flowing down his cheeks once more, though this time it's a silent stream, not a violent river. He nods, taking in your words. His hands smooth up and down his favorite spot— the small of your back, over the curve of your ass, rest for a moment at the tops of your thighs, rinse, repeat.

"You take care of me," you mutter, giving him another peck, then another. "You make me feel seen, heard, loved," another kiss. "Just by being you, y'hear me?"

He nods.

"Good," you coo.

His lips smash onto yours without another moment's notice.

The two of you positively melt into each other, his teeth nearly gnashing against yours at the intensity. The Robby-induced haze is immediate, going dizzy for his lips, the way they trail down your cheek, your neck.

You give your hips a little rock, arching your back and letting out a little whine.

"I love you, Michael," you whisper, his hand traveling up your body, your waist.

He rests his head on the peak of your chest, looking up at you with wide, desperate eyes. His adjacent hand creeps up to cup you through your bikini top. He gives you a light squeeze, and you squeal in delight.

"I don't think I can say enough times how beautiful you look, honey," he mutters, lips pursing, nearly slotting onto your skin below him. "So fucking insane, you're fucking insane."

He punctuates his compliments with a deep roll of his hips, his hard length evident in his swim shorts. You kiss the apples of his cheeks, the scruff peppering his jaw, dragging your lips over the Adam's apple in his neck.

"I could say the same thing to you," you respond, smoothing your hands over his still exposed tummy. "Love this belly so much, baby, you don't even know."

Tears spring to his eyes once more, the heels of his own hands catching them before they fall this time.

"Fffuucck!" He growls, a sardonic laugh following. "Y'gotta stop making me cry, princess. Can't take it," he wraps an arm around you, flipping you over so your back is on the bed.

"Michael!" You squeal, bouncing a little from the impact. You don't miss the way he pauses to watch your body adjust to the new position. He then crawls between your legs, eyes on you the entire way there.

"Wait, baby, wait," you sit up on your elbows to get a better look at him. "I wanna get you off first, please?"

"Fffuuuccckkk," he exhales, his forehead pressing against the bed. "Never thought I'd say no to your begging, baby," he presses a kiss to your tummy before untying your pretty skirt.

"Guess there's a first time for everything," he ponders, sliding your bikini bottoms down next. "Especially when my other option is to eat this pretty pussy," he presses a kiss to your clit, and you jump. "I love your mouth, but there's nothing I want more right now than to be the one to make you cum, please?"

You can't help but nod, his mouth immediately attaching to you. The kisses and licks he provides are messy, desperate, a strangled noise wrestling from his throat at your taste.

"Always so fucking sweet," he pulls away a tad, a glob of spit falling from his lips.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as it drops on your clit, rolling down your slit, your ass, onto the bed. His gaze follows the journey, jaw going slack, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Your breath hitches, biting back a moan as he gets back to work. The hand that's not holding your legs open slides up your tummy, fingertips tugging on the string tying together your bikini top

With a swift tug, the bow comes undone, the nylon falling to reveal your tits. They bounce slightly at the release, and he whines into his meal. The vibrations make your skin prickle, a whine falling from your lips.

"So perfect, baby," his large hand grabs as much of both tits as he can, his long fingers stretching as far as they'll allow.

He gives them a rough squeeze, letting them go with a loving slap. You whine at that, too.

"Such a whiny girl today," he murmurs into you, and you nod, legs shaking around his shoulders. "Have I not paid enough attention to you baby?" He asks. It's soft, a sweet question that has you keening. You nod, chest heaving with deep breaths.

"'m sorry, honey, that's so mean of me," he's so genuine, it makes your heart ache. "No wonder you went lookin' for Park, this pussy needed some attention, yeah?"

You swallow hard at his words, belly blooming with a bright heat. You wiggle your core against him, catching his nose on your clit.

"But it's only for me, though, right?" He asks, and you nod. "Nuh-uh," he gives your inner thigh a little pinch, a little kiss. "Tell me. Tell me you need me to make you cum, tell me it's only going to be me."

"Fuck!" You squeal, grinding harder onto his face. "It's only you, Michael," you scrape your nails against his scalp, eliciting a whine into your sopping cunt.

"You're the only one I want like this, the only arm I want to be on, the only man I've ever loved," this confession pushes you over the edge, a white hot sensation rolling over you like an electric shock.

"Fuuuccckkk," he groans into you, tongue never leaving your clit. "Love this pussy so much, c'mon, know you got more…"

A fresh wave hits you, your body going tense at the extra stimulation. Pleasure is all around you as you come down, a sudden sharp sensitivity popping the bubble once it all becomes too much.

You push his head out from between your thighs, and he crawls up your body. Resting his forehead on yours, you run a thumb along his glistening bottom lip.

Bringing it to your mouth, you suck it in, down to your knuckle. Letting it go with a 'pop!', you rest the pad of your thumb on your lips, giving your upper lip the perfect pouty push.

He caves at the sight, and you use his vulnerability to maneuver his body, climbing off the bed and sinking down to your knees on the floor. You beckon him, and he sits up, wiggling his hips until his feet are planted around you on the ground.

You smile up at him, at home between his thick, muscly thighs.

"You should know better than to try and deprive me of your dick in my mouth," you purr, wrapping your fingers around his length.

Tongue lolling out of your mouth, you tap his head against it, his pre-cum sticking to the muscle. The salty taste is immediate on your buds, and you swallow it down greedily.

It's not enough, of course it's not enough. Your lips part in a pretty 'o', closing around his mushroom head. He cries out, head falling back onto the pillows.

Hollowing you cheeks, you take him in deeper, and you hear his breath stutter.

"Oh," he starts, sinking his hands into your hair, "my fucking God."

He punctuates his cry with a tug, the ache in your scalp eliciting a whine. He massages the same spot in a sweet sorry, puling you off his length.

A string of spit connects your mouth to his head, and you go dizzy at the sight. You pout, missing the weight of him on your tongue. He smiles, pinching your cheek, giving it a soft pat.

"Sorry, angel," he starts. "I was gonna come, need to be inside you for that."

Your cheeks heat at this, climbing back onto the bed, reminiscent of the position you'd first started in. He scoots the both of you back to the pillows, slipping his red, angry length into your pussy without warning.

Your breath catches as his head breaches your entrance, the initial split taking the air from your lungs. Robby's gasping, barely getting a breath in as he fully sinks in his tip.

Your pussy swallows him up, tight and eager. Sinking down further, you start to create a rhythm, wiggling your hips, bouncing, just a little, to see what feels good.

With a certain swivel, the hook of his cock reaches a specific spot inside that has you lurching into him. He catches you, the sudden movement shoving him further inside you.

"Ffuuucckkk," you whisper, allowing yourself to seat yourself fully. "God, fuck," you throw your head back, pressing your hand into his knee. "You feel so good," you use the leverage to move your hips, circling his cock.

"Motherfucker," he groans, "so good to me, you're so good to me, baby."

Raising up on your knees, you lift slowly off him, to sink all the way back down again. You begin to bounce, your breasts moving in time with your thrusts.

His expression is cartoonish— wide and dazed, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Your thigh muscles work as you bounce, his cock pistoning deep inside you.

"Don't know what I did to deserve you," he mutters, almost lost in thought. His free hand cups your breast, thumb running over your nipple. "So fucking beautiful, so fucking perfect…happily bouncing on 50 year old dick, yeah?"

Your cheeks burn at his words, a shameful nod rocking your head.

"Yeah, 's what I thought," his thumb picks up speed on your nub. "My girl doesn't need someone younger, doesn't need fucking Park," he growls that last part, and you press a quick kiss to his lips. "Needs me, hm?"

You nod, nose brushing against his.

"Yeah," you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Need your cock, honey," your smile is sweet, despite the depravity of your words. The juxtaposition makes him groan. "It's so big, so fucking deep inside me, fuck!"

You pick up speed, bouncing at a rate your thighs will come to regret tomorrow. Robby's head falls back, mouth parted in an 'O'.

"Fuck," he groans, his thumb finding your clit. "Tight little pussy is gonna make me cum, honey," he squeezes his eyes shut, a loose tear rolling down his cheek. "Fuck, thank you for making me feel so good, honey, thank you."

Bending over, you lick up the tear, kissing the dampness that's dotting his crow's feet. It's not long until the coil in your belly tightens once more, his thumb unrelenting on your button.

"Feels so good, gonna cum too, wanna cum together, please," you beg, feeling drunk off the intense thrusting.

Your blood is buzzing as you fall over the edge once again. This one is more overwhelming, more explosive as you tighten, squeeze around Robby in a way that has him finishing, too.

You feel him twitch, the relief of his own orgasm softening his cock. He nestles deep inside as you both come down, his thighs against your ass as you snuggle into each other.

Deep breaths rock the two of you, bodies moving with each heave. Pressing your forehead against his, you take a big gulp of air before you say, "I love you."

You press a kiss to his lips, and keep talking.

"I never want you to compare yourself to anyone, let alone Park," you spit the name out like it tastes bad. "I love you just the way you are, m'kay?"

He rolls his eyes, but you pinch the skin of his bicep.

"Hey! It's cliche, but it's true. Bruno Mars wrote that song for a reason," this gets him to smile, and you pinch his cheek.

"I hate to break it to you, old man, but we do have a party to get back to," you say, and his face falls at the reminder.

"Damn, do you think anyone noticed we were gone?" He asks, finger tips running up and down your arms.

"Probably," you smirk, lifting your hips off of his.

You both whine at the loss of each other, swinging your leg over his lap so you can make your way to the bathroom. He follows, holding your hand while you pee, a tradition born from your post-sex sensitivity.

He lets you finish your business on your own, but makes sure to pat you down with a wet wash cloth before re-tying your bottoms, your skirt. He situates your top for you, too, placing a kiss to the parts of your breasts that peek out of your swimsuit.

You're fixing your hair when you walk back outside, knees fluid, cheeks aflame, a huge smile on your face. Your friends are right where you left them, a knowing smile on each of their faces as they take in your rumpled form.

Susie slides you a fresh glass, a margarita, and you gratefully accept. Hiding your face with the large, plastic cup, you avert your gaze from your friends.

You find Robby, sheepish as he accepts his apron and tongs back from Jack. From across the deck, you hear him say,

“fuck, sweetheart– pussy’s so fucking tight, shit–” robby groans as he pushes himself inside of you, your tight hole being split open on his thick cock.

your back arches off the bed and your hand immediately fly to his shoulders, nails digging in a little too hard but robby didn’t seem to mind.

“god, frank’s such a fucking idiot. doesn’t know what the fuck is good for him, how could he let a sweet girl like you go, hmm?” robby muses once he bottoms out inside of you, giving you a little time to adjust before starting the slow roll of his hips against yours.

usually your stomach would turn at the utterance of frank’s name, having cried over him just one too many times but it felt different this time. having robby talk about him while he was balls deep inside of you, it felt so wrong that it was right.

“he’s such an asshole!” you agree, a string of moans slipping from your lips afterwards when robby quickens his pace.

“piece of shit never deserved you. didn’t deserve to feel this sweet little pussy. fuck– didn’t deserve to hear your pretty noises…” robby thinks that he should stop, shouldn’t take it too far but he just can’t seem to help himself.

and so when you’re completely blissed out getting split open on his cock and your eyes flutter closed, he grabs his phone from where he’d thrown it on the bed and opens the camera hitting record.

“such a good girl f’me, baby. thaaaat’s it….yeah, taking daddy’s cock so fucking well, aren’t you? what a sweet little thing you are, sweetheart.”

his phone camera is pointed at your face, capturing the way your lips part as he praises you, the way your tits bounce as your body moves in time with his thrusts, the cute little hiccupy moans that leave your plump lips. all of it.

“wanna say hi to frank, baby?” robby smirks, you open your eyes to see robby’s phone in your face and to your surprise you’re not even mad about it, too fucked out to even think straight you just smile into the camera and wave.

“hi frankie!!” you bite your lip and slide your hand down your front to rub fast circles over your clit.

“that’s it, show frank how good i’m making you feel, baby. show him how much better i am.” robby points the camera down to where your hand works between your legs, the phone shakes from how hard he’s slamming into you now.

“you’re so much better, daddy. best i’ve ever had, feels so fucking good, shit–” it doesn’t take you long to cum after that, the obscenity of it all drives you straight off the edge, which obviously robby makes sure is captured in the video.

the video that he promised he wouldn’t actually send to frank…but somehow mysteriously ended up in the younger man’s inbox anyway….

oopsie!!

devious robby i love u very much <333

want to be added to my robby taglist .ᐣ reply to this post ᝰ.ᐟ (taglist is tagged from another acc)