i love men

"This is the alarm code-”

"Jesus, what neighbourhood do you live in again?"

"You don't have to use it, but a young woman staying alone? I want you to feel safe."

He handed you the note. That felt sweet.

You weren't entirely sure how you'd ended up being the one house-sitting for Robby while he disappeared on a three month sabbatical. You were the newest resident, barely eight months into your time at PTMC, but for whatever reason he seemed to trust you. He liked the way you taught, how patient you were with the med students, how you somehow managed to balance nurturing them without letting them walk all over you.

You'd been a little intimidated by him when you first arrived. Robby didn't take mistakes lightly. If you fucked up, you fucked up. There was no sugar coating it.

But he'd turned out to be a better teacher than you'd expected, taking you under his wing and dragging you into procedures most residents would have had to fight to get near. Sometimes you wanted to call it favouritism but it was probably just him doing his job. Probably.

"Anything else I need to know?" you asked. "Weird neighbours, paranormal activity, stalker exes?"

You tried to keep a straight face, only for the corners of your mouth to betray you.

He shook his head, laughing. "You sure you're okay doing this?"

"Are you kidding? This is gonna be like a vacation for me."

Robby nodded once, seemingly satisfied, and dropped the keys into your palm.

"Good. Call me if you need anything."

He started backing away towards the chaos of the ER. "Hey, remember. No parties, no pets, no boyfriends. Yours or anybody else's."

You scoffed, not quite loud enough for him to hear. Party? Required more than three friends. Pets? Required energy. And boyfriend? Don't even go there.

You didn't see Robby again before he left. Maybe the apartment handover had counted as a goodbye, or maybe the ER had simply done what it always did and swallowed every spare second before anyone got the chance to wave him off into the sunset.

Either way, all you could really focus on right now was three whole months without roommates and a bed bigger than a single. Happy days.

-

You managed to slip off shift without attracting any attention from the nurses or the night shift. Robby had said the only person he'd told about the house-sitting arrangement was Abbot. If you wanted to tell people, you could, but he didn't particularly care either way.

You decided to keep it quiet.

Work wasn't really where you made friends. You had three good ones on the outside but that was mostly it. Everyone was nice enough in the ER, and there had been the occasional invitation for drinks after a shift, but by seven o'clock you were usually too exhausted to be anything but horizontal.

Your circle stayed small, mainly Mckay and Ellis within the hospital.

You worked with Cassie every day and had become close over the months, and Parker had been your person during those brutal night shift rotations when you first arrived in Pittsburgh.

Either way, you made it to Robby's building without interception. Silver key for the lobby and brass for the apartment. Just like he'd said.

The building itself was nice. Clean hallways, warm lighting, planters hanging in the windows. The kind of place that felt looked after without trying too hard about it. The apartment was even nicer. Or maybe it just felt huge compared to the place you shared with four other girls.

"Well, fuck." The words slipped out before you could stop them as you flicked on the light switch.

The front door opened into a small hallway that led into a spacious living room, all exposed brick and worn hardwood floors. A brown leather sofa sat opposite a huge TV, surrounded by shelves packed with books and an almost concerning number of CDs.

You drifted towards them automatically, scanning album titles as you went. Pearl Jam, R.E.M., Jeff Buckley. A laugh escaped you.

"Checks out."

Your finger brushed across the collection before you moved on, abandoning your investigation in favour of something far more important.

Bed.

The guest room had already been made up for you, fresh sheets stretched neatly across the mattress and extra towels folded at the end like you were checking into a hotel instead of crashing in your attending's spare room. It made you smile.

Maybe your standards for grand gestures were embarrassingly low, but between that and the hundred dollars waiting on the kitchen counter with a note that read for anything you need, you couldn't help it.

There was still plenty left to explore. The contents of his fridge, the bookshelves, photo albums (or lack thereof) and most definitely the bedside drawers. But not tonight.

You peeled off your scrubs, barely managing to change before exhaustion caught up with you. Within minutes you were under the covers, eyes heavy, asleep before your head had properly settled into the pillow.

-

Turns out this house-sitting gig was absolute heaven.

Two days in and it was already starting to feel less like a favour and more like a reward.

Today was your day off. You'd actually eaten breakfast instead of inhaling a protein bar, spent the afternoon doing absolutely nothing productive and met up with a couple of friends for drinks that evening. The friends who weren't doctors, nurses or in any way connected to the hospital.

Then you'd come home, changed into something comfortable and settled onto Robby's sofa with your book.

Life was good.

So far, the hundred dollars he'd left behind had contributed to a half-full fridge and a bottle of wine, which felt perfectly reasonable considering Robby had specifically said it was for anything you needed. It was somewhere around chapter twenty-three of your hot romance fantasy novel (not one of Robby's) when your phone buzzed beside you.

Robby:

Hey, hope you're good. Just checking in to make sure everything's okay?

You smiled before you could stop yourself. He was so proper. So formal. Even his texts somehow read like work emails. Still, you appreciated him checking since you honestly hadn't expected to hear from him at all.

The whole point of this trip was supposed to be getting away. You'd heard him say more than once that he wanted to leave Pittsburgh and everyone in it behind for a while. No calls. No emails. As close to no contact as he could realistically get. According to Robby, that was the only way to properly clear your head.

The one exception had always been Abbot, maybe even Dana. Apparently now it was the three of you.

You:

all good! your apartment is insane by the way

and thank u for the money, u didn't have to!

You took a sip of wine as you hit send. A reply came almost immediately.

Robby:

You're doing me a huge favour!

Spend wisely…

A laugh escaped you. You were a little tipsy by now. Not drunk, just pleasantly warm from the two glasses of pinot you'd had at the bar combined with the one currently sitting beside you. Which, admittedly, was a lot considering you barely drank.

Without thinking too hard about it, you snapped a picture of the glass balanced on the coffee table. Then you zoomed in slightly. Mostly to crop out the fact you weren't using a coaster.

You:

wise you say???

The typing bubbles appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. You frowned at the screen.

For some reason, a flicker of self-consciousness crept in. Maybe the photo was weird. Maybe the lipstick mark on the rim was weird. Maybe it was weird to be sitting in your attending's apartment drinking wine and texting him on a Friday night.

Before you could overthink it further, another message appeared.

Robby:

Naughty!

Your stomach flipped. It was ridiculous. The word itself wasn't even remotely suggestive. If anything, it was probably about the coaster.

But between the wine and the book currently sitting open beside you, the message seemed to land somewhere deep in your belly. You stared at it for a second longer than necessary.

"Time for bed." You said it out loud, as though hearing it might make it true.

Leaving the glass on the coffee table with a single sip left, you gathered your book and headed for the guest room.

-

Robby stared at the photo for longer than he meant to. Not at the wine or the coffee table and certainly not at the missing coaster.

His attention had landed on the faint lipstick mark circling the rim of the glass and stayed there for a second too long before he caught himself. He sat back against the headboard of the hotel bed, somewhere around Chicago, after a long day on the road.

The room was forgettable. Beige walls. Generic artwork. The low hum of an air conditioner fighting for its life in the corner. Exactly the kind of place he'd expected to find himself in.

He'd only been checking in. That was all.

You were doing him a favour and it seemed polite to make sure everything was going smoothly.

Except now he found himself picturing you in his apartment. Curled up on the couch, feet tucked beneath you. A glass of wine in one hand and whatever book had managed to distract you from answering his text in the other.

His apartment. His couch. His glass.

He exhaled through his nose. It was ridiculous. Of course you were there, that was the entire point. For the next three months you were going to be using his mugs, watching his TV, standing under his shower and sleeping in the guest room.

None of that should have felt strange. And it didn't. Not really. It had just been that split second when the photograph appeared on his screen and his brain had connected the image to a real person rather than the vague idea of someone looking after his place.

Someone he'd see almost every day at work. Someone currently sitting exactly where he usually sat. Robby shook his head once, more at himself than anything else.

Then he typed out the reply.

Naughty!

The second it was sent, he dropped the phone onto the bedside table and turned off the lamp. Tomorrow he'd have another few hours of driving ahead of him. That was what he should be thinking about.

Not a lipstick stain on a wine glass.

-

It was strange how different work felt when you had somewhere peaceful to come home to.

The shifts were still long and the patients exhausting. None of that changed. But when there were no roommate arguments waiting for you at the end of the day, no mountain of dishes that didn't belong to you and no obnoxiously loud sex through the wall at midnight, everything felt a little more manageable.

You had energy again. Energy to come home and shower. Energy to cook. Energy to actually enjoy your evenings instead of collapsing face-first into bed.

You'd always been a good cook. Your mom had made sure of that. While other kids were watching TV, you'd been standing beside her in the kitchen learning how to chop onions without crying and season food without measuring every ingredient.

Your family tree contained exactly zero Italians, but your signature dish was carbonara. Real carbonara. The proper kind. The kind that required ingredients expensive enough to make you wince in the grocery aisle.

Which was exactly why you rarely made it. But with Robby's hundred dollars quietly subsidising your lifestyle, you figured you deserved a treat.

The plan was going perfectly until you tried to turn on the hob.

"Come on."

You twisted the dial until it clicked. Nothing. You tried again.

Another click. Still nothing.

By the fourth attempt, you were staring at the appliance like it had personally offended you.

"Am I losing my mind?"

Getting a burner lit should not have been this difficult. You glanced at your phone sitting on the counter.

No. Absolutely not.

You were not texting Robby because you couldn't operate a stove. You were a doctor, a functioning adult. You could figure this out.

Another click. Nothing. "For fuck's sake." The curse echoed around the kitchen. A few seconds later, you picked up your phone.

You:

i don't want you to think i'm completely incompetent but i cannot work your hob…

Three states away, Robby's phone lit up. He'd spent most of the day hiking through some forest outside Rockford before ending the evening under a shower hot enough to steam up the entire bathroom.

He walked over to the phone, towel slung low around his waist, hair still damp. The text made him laugh.

Robby:

You have to turn and press. It's more of a button than a switch!

Also don't worry, I couldn't work it for the first six months I lived there because of that…

It was strangely comforting to know a physician widely regarded as one of the smartest people in Pittsburgh had also been defeated by a kitchen appliance.

Following his instructions, you pushed the dial inward and a blue flame immediately burst to life.

"Oh thank god."

You set a pot of water on one burner and poured oil into a pan on the other before reaching for your phone again.

You:

life saver. i was about to starve

and the great robby also not knowing how to operate a stove makes me feel better so thank u

Back in his hotel room, Robby laughed quietly at the screen. A small smile lingered as he reread your message.

He'd answered your question, technically the conversation could end there and it probably should. Instead, his thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a second.

Robby:

What are you cooking anyway?

You saw the message while stirring egg and cheese into freshly drained pasta. Not now. Carbonara required concentration and you weren't risking scrambled eggs for anybody.

Five minutes later, when the sauce was silky and clinging perfectly to the noodles, you twisted a generous serving onto a plate and admired your handiwork.

Then you grabbed your phone.

You:

carbonara!

You attached the picture before hitting send.

The photo sat open on his screen for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected, certainly not that. It looked better than anything he'd eaten in the last week.

After a moment he tapped the heart reaction and tossed the phone onto the mattress beside him. He ignored the part of himself that wanted to ask for the recipe.

-

The next two days brought two hellish shifts.

First a mass casualty then a stomach bug that seemed determined to take down half the ER.

Dana did her best to pull people in for extra coverage, Abbot came in early and somehow ended up working a double, but even that barely kept things afloat. It was chaos. The kind that left you running entirely on adrenaline until your body remembered it was human.

You finally made it home just before eleven: a personal record. The worst part was that when you dragged yourself up the stairs, peeled off your scrubs and collapsed into bed, you couldn't sleep.

You were trapped in that miserable state of overtiredness where your body was begging for rest while your brain stubbornly refused to switch off.

You hadn't looked at your phone once during the shift. Not during the mass casualty or the endless stream of patients. Not even while inhaling a granola bar somewhere around hour twelve. It stayed buried in your pocket until you stepped through the apartment door.

It wasn't until you were under the covers that you finally saw the notification waiting for you.

Robby:

I had diner food for the third night in a row tonight, your carbonara is making me look bad…

He'd given you a rough outline of his route before he left and, if you remembered correctly, he should be somewhere near Minneapolis by now. An hour behind. Not too late.

You:

trust me, my carbonara is the least impressive thing about my week

i just survived a mass casualty and half the department trying to die from a stomach bug

diner food sounds peaceful honestly

Robby:

Mass casualty?

You:

three car pile up

and before you ask everyone survived

mostly because abbot worked about seventeen hours straight

Robby:

I leave for one week…

You:

i was waiting for someone to blame

Robby:

Blame Dana…

You:

do you think i have a death wish???

that's not the attending wisdom i was hoping for

Robby:

🤷🏻‍♂️ ️

You stare at the screen. He's using emojis now? Something about that feels strangely significant.

The conversation probably should have ended three messages ago. Instead, another text appears a few seconds later.

Robby:

You okay?

The question catches you off guard. Not because it's particularly personal, just because he seems to actually mean it. You stare at the message for a moment before replying.

You:

yeah

just tired

too tired to sleep which is apparently a thing

Robby:

Been there. Your body's exhausted but the brain's stress response overrides it

Makes for a very restless night

You:

oh good

thought i was dying

Robby:

You're a doctor..

You always think you're dying

A quiet laugh escapes you. You weren't entirely sure why any of this felt comforting.

After one of the worst shifts you'd worked in months, you were lying awake in your attending's apartment, texting your boss from beneath the covers.

On paper, it sounded ridiculous but the knot that had been sitting between your shoulders since this morning was slowly beginning to loosen.

Your eyes felt heavier, your body sank deeper into the mattress and the first time all night, sleep actually seemed possible.

You:

night robby x

You hit send before thinking too hard about it. A second passed. Then two. Then your phone lit up.

Robby:

Sleep well!

You smiled at the screen. By the time you set your phone on the bedside table, your eyes were already closing.

Robby didn't go to sleep straight away.

Instead he sat against the headboard, phone still in his hand, staring at the open conversation. The room was quiet. Outside, somewhere beyond the hotel curtains, a truck rumbled along the interstate.

His thumb drifted across the screen and paused, hovering over the last message.

night robby x

Just one stupid little letter. It probably meant absolutely nothing. For all he knew, you signed every text that way. You were exhausted when you'd sent it, practically half asleep and already drifting off. He knew that. So why was he still looking at it?

With a quiet huff of amusement at himself, Robby locked the screen.

Tomorrow he'd drive another few hundred miles, stay at another hotel, eat another mediocre meal. Continue doing exactly what he'd left Pittsburgh to do.

And yet, as he finally switched off the lamp and settled back against the pillows, he found himself wondering whether you'd text him tomorrow.

The thought stayed with him longer than it should have. Long enough that sleep didn't come quite as quickly as usual.

-

The next few days settled into something that almost resembled normality (or at least as normal as life in the ER ever got).

The stomach bug finally burned its way through the department, leaving a trail of exhaustion and empty electrolyte bottles in its wake. Everyone looked tired and complained constantly. You included.

It was nearing the end of another shift when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You ignored it only for it to buzz again.

And because every doctor secretly believed they were the most important person in the building, your brain immediately convinced itself it could be an emergency.

You pulled it out while waiting for the elevator.

Robby:

Rode twenty minutes off route for this

You opened it. Then frowned. Then laughed.

You:

what the fuck is that

Robby:

The world's largest prairie chicken

You:

of course it is

you rode twenty minutes out of your way to see a giant chicken?

Robby:

Yes.

You:

no further questions your honour

The elevator doors opened. You stepped inside, still smiling at your phone. Another message appeared.

Robby:

Thought you'd appreciate it!

Your lips curled at the suggestion he had taken the picture with you in mind.

You:

i'm genuinely concerned about how you're spending this sabbatical

Robby:

That's fair

For the record I did also spend six hours riding through some very beautiful countryside today

You:

and yet it was the giant chicken you sent

Robby:

Correct.

You laughed, probably too loud for the setting as others in the lift glanced over before you quickly looked away.

You:

well i'm glad my attending is making good use of his time

Robby:

You laughed didn't you?

You:

immediately

The elevator dinged and people shuffled out around you while you lingered behind, looking down at the conversation. At the completely pointless exchange.

The kind of conversation that served no purpose whatsoever and yet somehow it had made the end of a miserable shift feel lighter.

Robby:

Worth the detour then

You shook your head but the smile wouldn't disappear. It stayed with you all the way to the parking lot.

Across the county, Robby sat on the edge of his hotel bed with the television murmuring quietly in the background.

The hotels he was staying in were nice, he had the money to stay in much nicer but there wasn't much point when only passing through.

The final destination was a cabin in Alberta. That's where he'd spend the rest of the sabbatical when he got there, that he had spared no expense on.

But he didn't find himself thinking of his trip. The conversation still sat open on his phone. Nothing important, just the giant chicken staring back at him amongst a handful of messages and a stupid amount of amusement considering the subject matter.

After a minute, he locked the screen and set the phone aside. Then despite himself, he found his gaze drifting back towards it as though another message might somehow appear.

He'd be crossing into North Dakota soon and if he happened to see anything ridiculous along the way…

Well he knew exactly who he'd send it to.

-

The next few days followed suit. You and Robby started speaking like it was part of your routines without ever actually agreeing to it.

Nothing constant or heavy, just small check-ins threaded through the day. Snapshots from the road. Snapshots from the ER.

Things you'd caught out of the corner of your eye like the giant pigeon on a fire escape outside the hospital that made you stop mid-conversation just to take a picture.

Food also became a kind of currency between you. The home-cooked meals you'd send, still steaming on the plate whilst he'd drop his roadside breakfasts, gas station coffee, or whatever local specialty he'd found himself staring at that day.

You started waiting for the messages without really meaning to. Both of you did.

Robby:

This morning's view

You:

versus my morning's view

—

You:

i'm going old school and listening to your CDs

you have good taste old man

Robby:

I'll ignore those last two words and take it as a compliment...

—

Robby:

Got caught in a thunderstorm on the road today

You:

😭😭😭 😭 😭 omg

just know i'd be laughing if i were there

—

You:

robby

a guy came in today with an action figure up his ass

and dana made whitaker deal with it

Robby:

Nothing says good evening quite like a HIPAA violation

You:

i know you won't tell x

—

Somewhere between shifts and miles, the apartment stopped being the reason you spoke. It just became something that existed in the background, as if you'd both forgotten the house-sitting gig and this was all normal.

An excuse that had quietly turned into a habit. You didn't really notice the shift until one night you didn't text him at all.

Not on purpose, because of pure exhaustion. A shift that ran too long, a body too tired to think in sentences.

And on his end, Robby found himself checking his phone more than he liked to admit. Each time with a little more irritation than the last.

"Stupid." He muttered under his breath, tossing the phone face-down on the bed.

It didn't stay there long since he picked it back up a minute later.

His trip was still everything it was supposed to be. Long stretches of highway and peaceful mornings. Mountains, towns, weather that changed without warning.

It was all the kind of distance he'd been looking for and for the most part, the noise in his head had settled. It wasn't gone, he needed more than a solo road trip to fix that but it was quieter.

It was at its quietest when you text. Or when he took a picture and thought, without really meaning to, that you'd probably laugh at it.

Then his phone buzzed.

You:

sorry

today's been awful

The irritation disappeared immediately and he sat down properly on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, he stared at the message longer than he needed to. His first instinct was practical, to ask what happened and if you were okay. But it was nearly midnight your time and he knew, instinctively, that whatever you needed wasn't a barrage of questions.

Robby:

Do you want to talk about it?

You:

think i just need bed

speak tomorrow

He stared at the screen a moment longer than he meant to, leaving the chat open, your name sitting at the top of it. He didn't reply.

There wasn't anything else to say that wouldn't feel like too much.

-

The next day didn't actually bring a text. Or the day after that.

Shift patterns blurred together in the ER anyway, time measured in admissions and discharge paperwork rather than hours. You were exhausted, that was your excuse for not texting Robby. But by the second night, you were wondering what his excuse was.

It wasn't anything dramatic, just… absent.

No photos from the road or pointless updates about whatever strange thing he'd stopped to look at. There'd been no diner food commentary that made you roll your eyes while smiling at your phone.

You told yourself it made sense. Robby was on a bike somewhere between states and you were drowning in back-to-back shifts. There wasn't always going to be time.

Still, your phone felt heavier in your pocket than usual.

On his end, Robby told himself the same thing.

He'd spent most of the day on the road, miles of open highway stretching out ahead of him, the kind of silence he'd gone looking for. It should have felt good and it did, mostly. But every time he stopped for fuel, or pulled off to check a map, his hand drifted to his phone out of habit.

There he would find no new messages and he told himself that was normal.

It was normal. Until it wasn't.

-

It happened on a night that started like any other.

You'd left the hospital later than you meant to, fatigue settling into your bones in that familiar way that made everything feel slightly delayed.

The apartment was quiet when you got back.

You climbed the stairs and only realised something was wrong when your keys didn't turn properly in the lock. You tried it once, twice, three times and nothing. You paused then tried again but the lock didn't budge.

"Oh come on," you muttered under your breath.

You stared at the door for a second, exhaustion making it harder to think than it should have.

Of course this was happening now.

You pulled your phone out, looking who to burden with your troubles and force to come to your rescue. For a second, you considered calling Mckay but her shift had been just as rough as yours and Ellis' night was only just starting in the ER, suddenly you were out of options.

Your thumb hovered. Then moved.

In some hotel in one of the Dakotas, Robby's phone lit up on the bedside. His brow furrowed slightly, not expecting to see your name across the screen.

"Hello?"

Your voice came through slightly breathless and oh so tired.

"Hi," you said. "I have a problem."

He sat up a little straighter without thinking. "Are you okay?"

You let out a short laugh that didn't quite sound amused. "Your lock hates me." There was a pause.

Then, quieter, "Which one?"

"Front door."

"Right," he said. "Stay there."

"I am there."

"No," he corrected. "I mean don't try anything else. Just- stay."

You leaned back against the wall, sliding down slightly until you were sitting on the floor outside his apartment door.

"Robby," you said, "I am physically incapable of breaking your door at this point. I'm too tired to commit crimes."

That earned a small exhale of something that might have been a laugh.

"Good," he said. "I prefer it that way."

There was movement on his end. Fabric shifting, something being set down.

"Okay," he added. "Walk me through what happened."

-

The locksmith said he'd be there in twenty minutes which, judging by his tone, probably meant thirty. You thanked him anyway before ending the call and letting your head fall back against the apartment door.

"Well," you sighed, stretching your legs out in front of you. "Guess I live here now."

The laugh that came through the speaker was soft. You'd heard Robby laugh a hundred times at work, usually in passing conversations or when Dana pulled it out of him, but hearing it through the phone felt strangely personal.

"Could be worse."

"How?"

He was quiet for a moment.

"I'll let you know when I think of something."

You smiled. For a while, neither of you said anything.

The silence wasn't awkward, which surprised you. You could hear faint traffic somewhere on his end of the line, the distant sound of a television through a hotel wall perhaps.

"Where are you?" you asked eventually.

“Just outside Sioux Falls."

"Fancy..." You shifted against the wall, tucking one knee up towards your chest. "How's the trip?"

There was a pause. Not because he wasn't going to answer, but because he seemed to actually think about it.

"Good." You waited. "Actually, really good."

"Wow."

"What?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you sound that enthusiastic about anything."

"That's not true."

"Robby, I've worked with you for eight months."

"And?"

"The highlight of your emotional range is usually a nod."

That earned a proper laugh. The kind that made you grin before you'd even realised you were doing it. Why were your cheeks getting hot at the idea of making him laugh?

"That's harsh."

"I think you mean accurate."

"I'll have you know I've been having a great time."

“The giant chicken gave it away."

"Don't mock the chicken."

"I'll mock the chicken all I want."

He sighed dramatically. "This is exactly why I send you things."

Your smile lingered, you weren't entirely sure why. Like even if you wanted to get rid of it you couldn't. Maybe because it was nice knowing someone saw something during their day and thought to share it with you. Or maybe because lately, you'd been doing the same thing.

"Seriously though," you said. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

The teasing slipped away a little and you could hear it in his voice when he answered.

"Yeah. I think I needed it more than I realised."

You looked down at the floor. You'd thought that yourself. The difference in him was obvious, even through a screen. The texts were lighter. There was an ease to him that hadn't existed back in Pittsburgh.

"You sound happier."

He didn't answer immediately.

"Maybe."

It wasn't much of a response. Coming from Robby, it felt like a confession.

The conversation drifted after that. Work came up eventually, because it always did. You told him about the latest departmental disaster and he laughed harder than he probably should have at Whitaker's expense. Then somehow you ended up talking about music, and when you admitted you'd been making your way through his CD collection, he spent five minutes defending an album you'd called objectively terrible.

Before either of you realised it, headlights swept across the apartment parking lot. You glanced through the stairwell window to see a white van pulling in.

"Oh."

"What?"

"That's him." You pushed yourself to your feet, brushing imaginary dust from your scrubs. "The locksmith."

"Right."

You checked the time. Nearly forty minutes since you'd spoken to him on the phone.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Then you laughed softly.

"I don't think we've ever actually spoken like this before."

"Spoken like what?"

"Just…" You searched for the right words. "Talked."

He huffed a laugh. "We talk all the time."

"About work."

"Hmm. True."

You shook your head. "I know more about a giant prairie chicken than I do about you."

"Now that's probably not true."

"It definitely is."

The locksmith was already making his way towards the building entrance. You tightened your grip on the phone.

"Thanks for staying on the phone with me."

The words slipped out before you could think too hard about them and for a second, there was only the sound of his breathing on the other end.

"Of course." Robby said it with such ease, as if there'd never been any question about it. Something in your chest warmed at that.

"I should go."

"Yeah. You should."

Neither of you hung up immediately. You smiled even though he couldn't see.

"Night, Robby."

"Night."

-

Robby eventually made it to Alberta, trading motels and roadside diners for a cabin tucked between trees and more open sky than you'd ever seen in one place. The photos changed after that. It was less giant roadside attractions and more mountains, lakes so still they looked painted. Sunrises taken from a porch with a mug of coffee balanced somewhere just out of frame.

Your own contributions remained considerably less scenic.

You:

this mornings view

Robby:

Stunning!

You:

i know

thinking of getting it framed

Robby:

You should. Really ties a room together

The conversations drifted in and out of your days. Sometimes twenty messages. Sometimes two.

But there was rarely a day that passed without hearing from him. It had become your normal and that probably should have concerned you more than it did.

One afternoon you were halfway through a grocery shop when your phone buzzed.

Robby:

What's for dinner?

You snorted. Most days he was interested in what you were cooking, never quite getting over how good that carbonara looked weeks ago.

You:

demanding aren't we?

Robby:

I've been living off campfire food

Let me live vicariously

You balanced the basket awkwardly on your hip. Typing with one hand was becoming increasingly impossible so after a moment you sighed and held down the microphone button.

"Okay, so technically I haven't decided yet," you said, navigating around a woman studying avocados with suspicious intensity. "But I was thinking maybe chicken, potatoes, something easy because I had a twelve hour shift and Mckay spent most of it arguing with a guy who was convinced Red Bull counts as water."

You stopped recording and sent it, immediately forgetting about it as you continued to shop.

Robby was sitting on the cabin porch when the notification appeared. A voice note.

For a second he just looked at it before pressing play. Your voice spilled through the speaker, lighter than he was used to hearing at work, less hurried.

He could hear the wheels of a shopping cart somewhere in the background, people talking. The automatic doors opening and closing. It felt strangely intimate. Like being invited into a moment he wasn't supposed to be part of.

Before he knew it, the recording had ended and he found himself smiling Then replaying the first few seconds just to hear it again.

Robby:

Red bull absolutely counts as water

You:

you're part of the problem

-

A few days later you sent him a photo of a coffee shop you'd stumbled into before work. The picture was supposed to be of the ridiculous chalkboard menu, pretentious and completely overpriced.

Unfortunately, the reflection in the window caught most of your face and you didn't even notice before pressing send.

But Robby did.

He was halfway through replying when he stopped and stared at the photo. Then stared a little longer.

It wasn't as though he'd forgotten what you looked like, he'd worked beside you for months, seen you almost every day and yet somehow seeing your face appear unexpectedly on his screen felt different. Like it was more personal than bumping into you across an ER.

He zoomed in without meaning to then immediately felt ridiculous.

Robby:

That coffee costs more than my first apartment

You:

i knew you'd focus on the important issue

He didn't mention the photo but it stayed open on his screen longer than necessary.

The next Saturday night, you went out with friends.

The three you socialised with maybe once a month, the ones you'd gone out with on your first week at Robby's.

The evening disappeared beneath cocktails, bad music and stories that got funnier with every retelling. By the time you got home, your shoes were in one hand and your keys were in the other.

Your phone buzzed before you'd even made it upstairs.

Robby:

Survived?

You:

barely

my feet are filing formal complaints

Robby:

Worth it?

You:

yeah

free drinks always help

There was a pause before the typing bubbles appeared then they seemed to disappear before appearing once more.

Robby:

Free drinks?

You:

some guy at the bar bought them

either he was being nice or I looked desperately in need of a margarita

Robby stared at the screen. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found himself reading the message twice.

Some guy.

An entirely normal sentence since people bought drinks for each other every day. It meant absolutely nothing. Yet his thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Robby:

Which was it?

The message sent before he could overthink it and he immediately regretted it. Not because it was inappropriate, just because he sounded interested.

And he wasn't sure why he was interested.

You:

definitely the margarita

he started talking about crypto ten minutes in

That pulled a laugh out of him. An actual laugh.

Robby:

My condolences

You:

thank you

it was a difficult time

The conversation moved on after that. But later, after you'd gone to sleep and the cabin had settled into silence around him, Robby found himself thinking about the message again.

Not the drinks. Not the guy. But the fact that he'd wanted to know. And the fact he still wasn't entirely sure why.

-

You hadn't really talked about the house sitting arrangement to anyone at work.

It never seemed relevant and, if you were honest, you quite liked having something that belonged entirely to you. That was until Abbot casually asked how it was going in front of Parker and Shen. Both of them had turned so quickly you would have thought they'd rehearsed it.

John loudly slurped through his straw.

You immediately regretted coming into work.

You'd spent the next five minutes trying to explain that, yes, you were staying at Robby's apartment and no, it wasn't a big deal. At the same time, you were reassuring Abbot that everything was fine and that the place was still standing.

Parker wasn't convinced. She waited until the handover was done and everyone had started drifting away before falling into step beside you as you gathered your things from your locker.

You'd only just pulled your phone out when it buzzed. The smile arrived before you could stop it and Parker saw immediately.

"Message from your boyfriend?"

"Just Robby-”

You stopped and looked up to see her already grinning.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed."

"Haha. Very funny."

"I'm just saying," she replied, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "That man hasn't been here for nearly two months and I've heard his name more than I have some of the attendings who actually work here."

You rolled your eyes. Except the comment lingered because you didn't talk about him that much. Did you?

Sure, you texted most days, you snapped pictures when something made you laugh. You answered when he called and never made a secret of it because, in your mind, there was nothing to hide.

But maybe Parker had a point.

You were always quick to tell people where he was, what he'd been up to, what ridiculous thing he'd sent you that morning. You were also one of maybe three people who actually knew how his sabbatical was going and that felt strangely significant when you stopped to think about it.

Which was exactly why you decided not to think about it. Instead, you bumped your shoulder into Parker's arm.

"Leave me alone."

"Never."

You laughed despite yourself, waved goodbye to everyone and headed out through the main doors.

-

Even without a department full of doctors reminding him, Robby found himself thinking about you more often than he probably should.

Alberta was beautiful, exactly what he'd imagined.

The mountains seemed endless, the lakes impossibly clear and every evening the sky stretched so wide it barely looked real.

He'd come here to breathe. To remember what it felt like to wake up without immediately carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

For the first time in years, it was working and yet every time he stumbled across a view that took his breath away, he caught himself reaching for his phone.

The bear he'd spotted at the edge of a trail or the river he'd nearly slipped into while trying to take a photo. The sunset that turned the entire lake gold. All of it was filed away somewhere in the back of his mind. Something to show you, to tell you later.

He enjoyed those moments for himself, he really did, but there was always a second thought afterwards. A quiet one of she'd like this.

And that was dangerous territory for a man who had left Pittsburgh specifically to be alone.

-

Today had been a bad day for absolutely no reason. Work hadn't been worse than usual. There was no mass casualty or outbreak, no disaster waiting for you.

You'd left almost on time and the handover had been unusually smooth yet, somehow, by the time you found yourself curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine balanced on your knee, you felt like you might burst into tears.

You probably wouldn't but it was comforting to know you could if you wanted to.

The apartment was quiet. A CD hummed softly in the background while the evening light spilled through the windows. You'd been enjoying the solitude for weeks now.

Your phone lit up. A text from Robby. It was just a small update about his day, a picture of a lake with a note underneath telling you there was a viewpoint about a mile from the cabin that you would absolutely love.

You stared at it for a second and then pressed call without thinking.

The phone rang twice.

"Hey, you okay?" He'd answered immediately.

Not because he'd been expecting the call but quite the opposite.

You almost smiled at the concern in his voice.

"Hey. Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Can you talk?"

On the other side of the continent, Robby was sitting on the cabin porch with a beer bottle in hand, watching the sky darken over the mountains.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I can talk."

You exhaled. You weren't entirely sure why. Just hearing his voice had already made something feel lighter.

"Bad day?" he asked gently.

"A little."

"Want to talk about it?"

You considered it.

"Not really."

He laughed quietly. "Fair enough."

You took a sip of wine.

"Does it sound stupid if I say I just wanted to hear your voice?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

For a moment, all you could hear was the wind moving through the trees on his end of the line. Then Robby shifted in his chair.

"Well," he said, amusement colouring his voice, "I sure feel special."

You groaned. "Don't make it weird.”

"I'm not making it weird."

"You absolutely are."

His laugh settled something warm in your chest.

"I can tell you about the bear I saw today if you need a distraction."

You smiled. "Yes please."

And he did. He told you about the trail, about spotting movement through the trees and realising it was considerably larger than he'd first thought. Halfway through the story your phone buzzed with a picture he'd sent while still talking.

You put him on speaker to zoom in, immediately informing him that he was insane for getting that close. He disagreed.

You told him he was objectively wrong then somehow you were refilling your wine while he wandered into the kitchen for another beer and the conversation simply kept going.

Hours slipped past unnoticed. The topics changed every few minutes. Canadian wildlife became grocery shopping.

Grocery shopping became work which became Dana. Dana became the night you'd gone out with your friends. It felt effortless.

Like no matter what either of you said, the other would find it interesting, as if there were no rush to end the conversation.

Eventually, somewhere between your third glass and his third beer, Robby circled back to something you'd almost forgotten.

"So," he said casually. "Any more plans to go out and let random men buy you drinks?"

You scoffed. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that sounds suspiciously like jealousy, Michael."

Using his first name felt deliberate. The kind of thing you couldn't take back once it left your mouth.

For a moment he didn't answer and you could almost hear him thinking.

"I think I'm just curious."

"Curious?"

"You mentioned him." His voice was careful now. "And then I spent an embarrassing amount of time wondering whether you actually liked him."

Your stomach flipped unexpectedly.

"And did you come to a conclusion?"

He laughed quietly. "Yeah."

"Which was?"

"That anyone who talks about crypto for ten minutes straight probably doesn't stand a chance."

The warmth that spread through you had nothing to do with the wine. You sank further into the sofa, smiling into your glass.

"Good answer."

For a second neither of you spoke. The silence felt different now, like an awareness blooming.

On the other end of the line, Robby stared out across the darkening lake, suddenly very conscious of the weight in his chest and the dryness in his mouth. He wasn't entirely sure when the conversation had become the best part of his day.

He was even less sure what that meant.

On your end, the wine bottle was looking considerably emptier than when the call had started.

"How much longer have you got out there anyway?" you asked eventually.

He leaned back in his chair.

"Couple more weeks."

You hummed. "A couple?"

"Three."

You did the maths automatically. Three weeks. For some reason that felt shorter than it should have.

"That's weird."

"What is?"

"You coming back."

Robby laughed softly. “I haven't left forever."

"I know."

You picked absentmindedly at the label on your wine bottle.

"Still weird though."

He understood exactly what you meant. The cabin had become normal, so had the mountains. Waking up and sending you a picture of whatever he'd found that day had become normal too.

The thought settled uncomfortably somewhere in his chest.

"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "It is."

For a moment neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't awkward, if anything, it felt too honest.

"You'll probably be sick of Pittsburgh again within forty-eight hours."

He laughed.

"Probably."

"And I'll have to move back into my shoebox apartment."

He laughed again.

"You laugh, but I've become accustomed to luxury."

"My apartment is not luxury."

"It has an en-suite."

"It does."

You smiled into your glass.

"I'm gonna miss it."

The words came out before you really thought about them and then, after a beat, you added, "The apartment, I mean."

Robby looked out across the lake. The moonlight stretched across the water in silver streaks. He wasn't entirely sure why that qualifier felt necessary.

"Yeah."

Because he was going to miss something too, he just wasn't sure it was the apartment.

"I'm glad I gave you the keys."

The words slipped out naturally.

"Because I've been such an excellent tenant?"

"Questionable."

You laughed. "Rude."

"You locked yourself out and you don't use coasters."

"That happened one time. And yes I do."

"One time that I know about. And, no you don't."

You shook your head, laughing. "So why are you glad?"

The question hung there. For the first time that evening, Robby didn't answer immediately. He could have made a joke and he probably should have but instead he found himself telling the truth.

"Because otherwise…" He trailed off and you waited. "Otherwise I don't think we'd have ever talked like this."

Something in your chest tightened, just enough to make you still. The sounds around you seemed to disappear for a second. The music, hum of the refrigerator, everything.

"Yeah."

It came out quieter than you'd intended. Because he was right.

Without the apartment, he would've stayed your attending, you his resident. You would've chatted during shifts and maybe grabbed a beer with a group after work once or twice.

But this? The hours spent on the phone, the daily messages, knowing what the other person had for dinner. Sharing parts of yourselves that had nothing to do with medicine.

None of that would've happened.

"I guess not."

Robby stared down at the bottle in his hand. His pulse felt oddly loud.

"Would've been a shame."

The words were barely above a murmur. Honest enough that neither of you quite knew what to do with them. You swallowed. Suddenly very aware of the warmth spreading through your stomach.

And not because of the wine.

Another silence settled between you but this one felt different. It felt full. Like there was something sitting quietly between the two of you that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it had and neither of you had looked directly at it until now.

"Yeah," you said softly. "It would've."

For a second, neither of you spoke, neither of you hung up either.

Somewhere between Alberta and Pittsburgh, with a lake outside one window and city lights outside the other, it felt like the conversation had shifted onto unfamiliar ground.

Not enough to turn back yet not enough to move forward. Just enough that both of you knew something had changed.

-

The next morning arrived with a headache.

Not a catastrophic one, just enough of one to remind you that two glasses of wine had somehow become four and how you clearly couldn't handle your booze anymore.

Thank god it was your day off. You'd spent most of the morning moving slowly, making a trip to the store for supplies before returning to the apartment with a bag full of groceries, painkillers and absolutely no intention of leaving the house again.

After a shower, you pulled on an oversized t-shirt, climbed into bed and put something mindless on the TV. You weren't really watching it. Your attention kept drifting back to your phone. In between doom scrolling TikTok, you kept flipping to your messages.

Nothing from Robby.

You told yourself it was normal since he was a couple of hours behind. He could still be asleep or hiking, he could be doing literally anything.

Still, your thumb hovered over the conversation and you found yourself thinking through parts of last night's call. Especially the end.

Would've been a shame.

You groaned and tossed the phone onto the bed beside you. "Get a grip."

The phone buzzed almost immediately.

You grabbed it so fast it was actually embarrassing.

Robby:

Morning

You:

afternoon actually

Robby:

Right

How's the hangover?

You:

presumptuous much?

Robby:

I'll take that as confirmation

You:

i’ve survived worse

Robby:

Doctor approved medical assessment

You:

exactly

The conversation stayed comfortably familiar at first. Small things, nothing important. What he'd done that morning and what you were doing now. The weather in Canada versus Pittsburgh. The coffee he'd burnt.

You laughed quietly at something he'd sent and snapped a quick picture in response.

Mostly intending to show him the disaster of snacks you'd surrounded yourself with on the bed.

You hit send before really looking at it.

A few moments passed, longer than usual. You frowned.

You:

???

The typing bubbles appeared.

Robby:

You know you're in that photo right?

You opened the image again. Your stomach immediately dropped.

Between the blankets and the snacks was a very obvious stretch of bare leg disappearing beneath the hem of your t-shirt. If you zoomed you could definitely see the edge of lace from your panties.

Heat crept into your cheeks.

You:

well

too late now

His reply took a little longer this time.

Robby:

Suppose it is

Something about the message felt different though you couldn't have explained why.

The conversation slowed. Not because either of you wanted it to end but because both of you seemed suddenly aware of it. Aware of each other.

You:

you're being weird

Robby:

I am not

You:

you absolutely are

Robby:

And what if I'm just thinking?

You:

dangerous

Robby:

That's rich coming from you

You laughed and the tension eased for a moment then returned just as quickly. The phone sat warm in your hand. Neither of you quite saying what was on your mind.

Both of you hovering suspiciously close to it.

Then-

A knock sounded at the apartment door. You sat upright.

"Oh for god's sake."

You:

one sec

Robby:

What?

You:

someones here

terrible timing honestly

Robby:

That sounds ominous

You:

don't go anywhere

Robby:

Wasn't planning on it

You tossed the phone onto the bed and headed for the door.

When you pulled it open, Abbot stood on the other side with two coffees in hand, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Jack?"

"Good afternoon."

You stared. He stared back.

"Why are you here?"

"Robby asked me to check the place hadn't burned down."

You folded your arms.

"And?"

Jack looked past you.

"Still standing."

By the time Abbot eventually left, the afternoon had slipped away with him. He'd actually brought you coffee because he was passing by, knew Robby cared about you and wanted to check in. Sweet actually.

Your conversation with Robby had fizzled into a couple of harmless messages before disappearing entirely which somehow felt worse. Because now you were thinking about it and judging by the phone call that arrived later that evening, so was he.

You answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"I can't believe you left me hanging like that."

You laughed immediately. "Excuse me?"

"We were having a conversation."

"Jack showed up at your apartment."

"And somehow that's my fault?"

"Everything's your fault."

His laugh crackled through the speaker.

"You know," he said, quieter this time, "I did actually spend the next few hours wondering what happened."

Your heart stumbled slightly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause. Comfortable but dangerous.

"Well," you said, settling deeper into the sofa. "Lucky for you, I'm free now."

The silence on the other end lasted just long enough to make your stomach flip. Then Robby laughed softly.

"Good."

The word settled somewhere low and God you hated that it did. Or maybe you loved it. Either way, you found yourself smiling into the darkness of the apartment.

"You sound very pleased with yourself."

"I am."

You laughed softly.

"Because I answered the phone?"

"Because I was beginning to think Abbot had kidnapped you."

"Trust me, if he'd kidnapped me, you'd know about it."

You eased into conversation again, tucking yourself deeper beneath the blanket, listening to him talk about a trail he'd found that morning. He was halfway through describing some impossible view over a lake when he suddenly stopped.

"Can I ask you something?"

You frowned. "Depends."

"That picture earlier."

Your pulse immediately betrayed you. "What about it?"

There was a pause. "Nothing."

You laughed. "That's not how questions work."

"I know."

"So?"

Another pause. You could practically hear him weighing his words.

"I just didn't realise you'd sent it like that."

Heat crept up your neck.

"Like what?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Unfortunately, you did.

The worst part was how carefully he was speaking. How neither of you was actually saying anything and yet somehow both of you knew exactly what the other was talking about.

"It was an accident."

"I figured."

"You sound disappointed at that."

The silence that followed lasted a fraction too long. Your breath caught, just slightly. Then Robby laughed low and quiet.

"That's a dangerous thing to accuse me of."

You stared at the ceiling. Very aware of the oversized t-shirt you were still wearing and how your nipples were suddenly hard beneath it.

"I think you've become a lot more confident since Alberta."

"Oh yeah? Is that a bad thing?" he asked.

"No, it's kinda sexy actually." You laughed, so did he. Then a second passed and you felt the boldness creep in, so much so it decided your next move. "Do you want me to send another?"

You could practically hear Robby choke on his own breath and in the time he tried to get on top of his words, you'd pulled the blanket away, your phone up high with the front camera on, snapping a pic that showed a lot more than the last.

This time it was the bottom of your face, lips plump and pouty, your t-shirt tugged 'innocently' higher to give way to the band of your panties flashed across your hip. Your legs were crossed, not for the picture but to try and ease the now insatiable ache between them. As for your nipples? There was no denying they were the star of the show.

You sent it before thinking twice.

"Fuck." Robby breathed and you knew he was looking right at you.

"Is that better?"

You heard him take a deep breath and could imagine the blush on his cheeks. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You couldn't help but smile. His voice had gotten lower, a little huskier, almost like he was out of breath.

"Robby?"

"Yeah?" He breathed.

"What are we doing?"

He took a minute to answer. Not sure of what he should say, what he wanted to say. "I don't know." You couldn't see but he rubbed his face over his hand, coming to rest at the base of his neck. "I don't fucking know."

He was sat on the sofa at the cabin. The fire was going, lights dim and warm. Ever since you'd sent that first picture he'd been tight against his jeans but then you sent another and fuck, his hand came to adjust himself over the denim.

"But I'm not sure I can pretend I'm thinking of anything other than that picture right now."

You felt a little smug. That was, after all, why you sent it. It was so nice to feel sexy, for someone to be looking at you the way he was, someone you wanted to see you this way.

"Yeah? What you thinking about?" You knew what you were doing. Knew how it would draw the last breath out of him but you also knew you'd crossed a line and there was no going back. Not that you wanted to.

Your hands trailed over yourself, light touches over the cotton of your t-shirt. Your body jolted when finger tips ghosted the outline of a nipple, trailing left to pay the other as much attention. Fuck, it felt good.

Robby knew the pair of you were in dangerous territory but god, he wanted to be there. His head fell back in disbelief, as if he were mad at himself for what he was about to tell you over the phone.

His resident.

"You touching yourself in my apartment." He paused, waiting to see if he'd taken it too far only to hear a quiet moan from you in response. "Playing with yourself in the guest bedroom..."

"I am." Your hand snaked from your tits slowly to your panties, cupping yourself over the lace and that's when you felt it. "Fuck Robby I'm really wet…”

Jesus Christ. He felt himself jolt against his own hand, the one that was palming the growing outline of his cock.

"Fuck, baby. You're really trying to kill me huh?" He huffed a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief that this was happening. Almost three months of texts, phone calls, voice notes. A camera roll shared, bad days eased by mindless humour and companionship. A relationship built on all of that.

"You want me to go to your bed?" You almost panted down the line as you moved against your hand. "Fuck myself in your sheets?"

"Shit," He exhaled.

"You want that?"

"Yeah…" His reply was too fast and he cursed himself for it. But all he wanted was the image of you, two fingers deep, coming to his voice while soaking his bed spread. "Please baby, do it for me."

And with that, you got up. He heard rustling down the line as you made your way from the guest bed to Robby's. It wasn't a room you'd gone in much. You'd said you were going to snoop through his drawers, his closet just to be nosy but turns out you had too much respect for his privacy. That was months ago. Now you were crawling onto the bed, setting your phone on speaker next to you as you positioned yourself right in the middle.

Robby was waiting patiently. He'd done no more than rub himself a few times over his jeans, grinding a little into his hand but then knowing it'd be too much and he'd end up blowing his load like a teenager. Instead, he waited. For you. To enjoy you.

You laid your head back against his pillows, inhaling him as if he were right next to you. "Mmm, smells like you in here." You said quietly. "It's like you're here."

He wished he was there. You did too. Wished it was his fingers swiping through your wetness, dipping into your panties and feeling how worked up you'd got from sending him one (not even) dirty photo.

"Tell me what you're doing." It felt like an order even though it wasn't and your pussy jumped at the idea. "Wanna hear you."

"Fuck. 'M rubbing myself over my panties." You whispered lightly. "Wanna take them off."

"Take them off baby." He'd hoped you'd throw them to the side and forget, only for him to find them on his return. "Spread your legs, let me hear."

It'd be hard for him not to hear with how soaked you were.

It was amazing how one phone conversation and suddenly this is how you found yourself, legs open for Michael Robinavitch.

With your panties gone, you anchored your legs apart. Fingers sliding through your dripping slit, gathering your arousal to swirl it in tight circles around your clit. The slick sounds filled the room, they filled the cabin too.

Robby couldn't take it anymore. You heard the sound of metal, a belt unbuckling before a zip slid down in haste. He freed himself, pulling his cock from his boxers, thick and hard. He was leaking from the tip, all red and worked up just from listening to you. It felt so fucking good when he finally stroked himself.

"Oh fuck." He tried to bite it back, failing miserably.

That was music to your ears.

"You hard for me Robby?"

"You have no idea. Feels so fuckin good, thinking about you." He fucked his fist nice and slow, wanting this to last and despite his cock not being inside you, he wanted you to cum first.

You decide it wasn't enough. After all this time, the calls and the pictures, you needed to see him. And you wanted him to see you.

"Wanna see you." You picked up your phone, hand still working your pussy. "Can I face- face time you?" Your words faltered a little as your fingers sped up, rubbing your sensitive clit.

Robby froze for a second. He'd got this worked up just by thinking of you in such a state and now, you were actually going to show him?

"Mhmm, yeah."

And within a second you'd pressed the button the change this to a video call. When he accepted, he saw the dark room lit by a single bedside lamp. You'd slowed your motions for a second, to pick up the phone properly and see him for the first time in months.

"Hey." You smiled, like it didn't matter what the pair of you had been doing just seconds ago. You were so happy to see his face. The slight tan he'd caught, his greyed out beard and stubble around the neck.

"Hey." He couldn't help but smile too. Knowing your hands were down your pants but not being able to get past the heat in your cheeks, how your hair had fallen across the bed and despite stating you had a hangover, you were fucking glowing.

He pondered it for a second, how he might have not noticed this before. The way your eyes narrowed when you smiled, how you looked at him.

"You look beautiful."

That might have turned you on more than anything in the last fifteen minutes. You were breathless, a little wrecked, in disbelief at any of this.

Then you set the phone down on the bedside table to free up your hands. That's when you pulled off the t-shirt entirely, leaving your perfect tits in plain view for Robby to see.

His eyes grew wide as he surveyed every inch of your skin before you laid back into the cushions as you were before, shifting to your side facing the phone.

"Is this what you were thinking about?" You snaked your hand back down to your cunt, dipping in but not all the way, just enough for Robby to hear the slick mess.

"Even better." His hand slowly started to work on himself again, matching your rhythm as he held the phone in front of him.

Your mouth parted when you finally sank a finger inside, then another. Two digits curled deep in your pussy, rolling your hips against them and you never took your eyes off him.

"Fuck Robby." You sped your motions a little, so did he. "Wish it was your fingers, wish it was you inside me."

You weren't sure where it came from. The filthy tongue, the boldness. You weren't shy in bed but he was your boss. The boss you were innocently house sitting for until you decided to get attached.

"Christ." He bit back a moan at your obscenity. "Imagine it's me baby." He started fucking his fist faster, wishing it was your pussy. "Imagine it's my cock deep inside you, I'd fuck you so good, make you feel so fucking good."

It dropped from his tongue with little effort. He thought about how much he wanted to be buried inside you, how he'd wanted that for a while and was too scared to admit it.

"Mmmph Robbyyyy." You whined his name, breathing hard, riding your fingers as you felt the coil tighten in your belly. "Let me see you."

He did the same as you, positioning the phone on the side table that sat at the same height as the sofa. It left him in view from the waist up, free hand roaming his covered chest, the other pumping his cock hard.

You watched him intently. Heard the sounds of precum slickening his strokes as his hips drove up with every beat.

"Fuck I'm close-” You worked yourself with both hands, two buried to the knuckle and the other rubbing your clit with such ferocity. "Really fucking close Robby I think I'm gonna cum soon."

"Cum for me angel, let me see. Such a good girl."

Your hands worked even faster and suddenly, the coil snapped with words of praise and you were coming in Robby's bed.

"Oh my god oh my-” Then silence, your body went rigid as you clamped your hands hard, riding out the most intense orgasm you'd had in years.

You were a sight for sore eyes. Mouth wide open, tits bouncing with every movement and all it took was your guttoral moans for Robby to feel himself close to the edge too. He was fucking himself so hard and fast, it was almost a blur on screen until you heard him pant, a strangled "Uh uh uh" and then-

"I'm gonna cum baby oh fuck-”

You watched him spill his load all over his hand. Thick white ropes dripped down his knuckles, marking his jeans as he stroked himself through it, twitching at his now very sensitive cockhead.

You were both left breathless and sweaty, each reaching for your respective phones.

"You-” He was trying so hard to catch his breath. "-are something else."

You both laughed breathlessly. Fuck, this felt good.

You stayed on the phone for hours after until he ordered you to bed. Told you to sleep well, that he'd be thinking of you.

And that night was the best sleep of your life.

-

Everything felt different after that night except it also all stayed the same.

You spoke every day. Called most nights, FaceTimed, voice noted when you were cooking dinner or carrying groceries. But now it seemed like nothing was left unsaid, that you were both being honest with each other. It was amazing.

The only thing eating away at you right before you fell asleep was the idea this might end. When the three weeks crept closer, when the sabbatical would end. Would everything go back to how it was before?

"Hey can I ask you something?" You broke mid conversation.

"Anything."

"When this is over. Your sabbatical I mean. When you come back and I'm not here." You trailed off slightly. "...Will this all go away?"

There was silence on the line for a second.

"Not if I have anything to do with it."

Your smile reached your ears. Good because-” You inhaled deeply. "I don't think I can go back."

-

You worked like a dog over the next four days.

At one point you'd even picked up a double because Lena had practically begged for night shift cover, and despite every intention of saying no, somehow you'd found yourself agreeing anyway.

It meant you barely saw daylight all week and you didn't get to speak to Robby much either. Not in the way either of you would've liked.

You checked in between shifts, during breaks and whenever you made it home with enough energy to keep your eyes open. He'd send the occasional text during the day, but most of your conversations happened at night. Sometimes a quick call, sometimes longer if exhaustion didn't drag you under first.

It was a brutal four days. By the end of it you were running almost entirely on caffeine and stubbornness, convinced you'd briefly developed double vision somewhere around shift three.

When you finally crawled into bed at the end of it all, you slept hard.

Since your FaceTime call, you hadn't stepped foot in the guest room. Every night you ended up in Robby's bed instead, tangled in his sheets and surrounded by things that smelled faintly like him.

He loved knowing that.

Day five arrived with something close to actual rest. You woke around nine and, for the first time all week, didn't feel like death.

After a shower you made coffee, pulled on some loungewear that wasn't technically pyjamas and settled onto the sofa with every intention of finally finishing the book you'd started at the beginning of all this.

You'd texted Robby before getting in the shower. There was still no reply. You assumed he was asleep or hiking or somewhere without signal. Either way, you weren't worried.

Twenty-five minutes later there was a knock at the door. You sighed immediately.

It had to be Jack.

Apparently nobody trusted you to spend three months in an apartment unsupervised.

Already preparing your speech, you marched towards the door and pulled it open.

The words died in your throat.

"Robby."

For a second your brain simply stopped working. Because Robby was supposed to be in Canada. Robby was supposed to be another two thousand miles away. Robby was supposed to be a voice coming through your phone speaker. Not standing in front of you.

"Hey."

His smile spread slowly across his face, tired and genuine all at once. His cheeks were pink from the road and his eyes looked glassy around the edges, like he'd spent too many hours behind the handlebars and not nearly enough sleeping.

You stared. "What are you doing here?"

He laughed softly. "Good to see you too."

"No, seriously." You gestured vaguely at him and the doorway. What are you doing here? You were in Canada. That's like-" Your brain searched desperately for a number. "It's like five thousand miles."

"Not quite."

"Robby-”

He kissed you.

Just stepped across the threshold and kissed you.

His hands came up to cup your face as he guided you backwards into the apartment, the front door swinging shut somewhere behind him.

Every thought disappeared. All the questions and confusion, gone.

Because he was here, after months of messages and phone calls and hearing his voice through a screen, he was finally here. The last four days worked in his favour, you being so busy. He'd hit the road almost immediately, covering far too much mileage to be considered safe. All to make it back to you.

You kissed him back immediately, both hungry and relieved. Like you were making up for every mile that had sat between Alberta and Pittsburgh.

When he finally pulled away, it was only far enough to look at you, forehead resting against yours.

"Two and a half thousand miles," he corrected quietly.

You laughed.

For a moment neither of you spoke.

"You know," you murmured, fingers still wrapped around his wrists, "this is a very dramatic way to get your keys back."

Robby laughed, the sound warm and familiar.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His thumbs swept across your cheeks.

“Good thing I never came back for the keys”

Your heart squeezed.

After sex Robby gets quiet, but clingy. He'll check you're okay but won't say much else at first, instead clutching you tightly against his chest and kissing the top of your head so you can feel every ounce of affection and adoration coursing through his veins. It's vulnerable to be this exposed to someone, which doesn't come naturally to him, so he needs a bit of time to just hold you and ground himself and feel your skin against his before finally he's ready to offer to make you a coffee or get the shower running and is back to his slightly cheeky self with seductive compliments slipping from his lips. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Micheal doesn't spend a lot of time thinking about his appearance - he knows he's always done fine for himself with women and it's not like he has any major areas of concern. But while he might not think that much about it, he can tell you stare at him a lot more longingly than anyone ever has before, and then definitely does wonders for his confidence. He particularly loves the way your eyes and hands gravitate to his arms, watching his biceps when he's working in just his scrubs or digging your nails into them when he's on top of you, giving you everything he's got. 

There's no part of you that doesn't have the usually composed doctor blushing slightly, but he never grows tired of staring at your lips. Whether he's watching you break into a genuine smile that feels like a ray of sunshine that only shines for him, or they're leaning in close to capture his lips when the world is starting to weigh too heavily on his shoulders. They're his life-raft in his stormy seas, and he'll never fail to cling on with all his strength. 

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Dr Robby doesn't have A breeding kink, he has THE breeding kink. This man wants to baby-trap you so badly - so you have to put up with him, so he can watch you be the mother he knows you could be, so the two of you will be a family forever. He's thought about it since long before you ever actually graced his bed with your company, so when it finally comes time for him to slide inside of you, he only has one very overwhelming thought in his mind. He wants to fill you up, and then stay thrust inside you for as long as he can so that nothing leaks out, determined not to waste any chance he has to make his greatest dream come true. 

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Robby's chaotic work schedule doesn't always align neatly with yours, so sometimes he ends up working a long, draining shift, and coming home to an empty apartment. And then he really misses you. At first he doesn't know what to do with himself, wandering aimlessly around the place looking for something that'll remind him of you enough to fill the absolutely aching void inside him. When he realises nothing will do the trick he goes to get changed, throwing his dirty outfit in your laundry hamper and pausing as he catches a glimpse of your underwear amongst the pile of dirty clothes. He isn't even sure what he's doing when he threads them between his fingers and brings them up towards his face, inhaling deeply and feeling all his blood rush south in response. Before any sense of shame can kick in, his fist is wrapped around his cock, rubbing the dirty fabric against himself as fast as he can, his release spilling embarrassingly quickly with you on his mind. He tidies up as quickly as he can, feeling like a horny teenager as he shoves the lingerie to the bottom of the basket. It's not his fault that he adores you so much that it circles all the way round to being kind of creepy <3

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Robby's been around long enough that he knows what he's doing in the bedroom, and if you're a little bit younger than him he'll take so much pride in bringing that experience to fruition for you. Guys your age are struggling to find the clit, while Robby is making you feel things you didn't even know you could, dragging so much pleasure out of your body that it's hard to take a breath between the waves of ecstasy. Please accidentally let it slip in your blissed out state that Robby is the best you've ever had, and he'll reassure you that everything about you was worth the wait.

F = Favourite Position (this goes without saying)  

Michael likes to feel in control when he has you in his bed, so any position where he's on top and pinning you down, making you cum while you're completely at his mercy, is definitely his favourite. Missionary is good, especially when you're legs are up on his shoulders, pinning you on your stomach is even better, and the noises he can draw from you when he's got you in doggy with his hands on your hips, well that might be the best. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Making love to Robby is definitely a serious matter - he doesn't have a lot of levity to him in general, and being with you is something he takes very seriously, the intimacy you share being intensely meaningful to him. He's going to make sure he spends every second he can letting you know how much he adores you, and how much this means to him, how important you are to his life. Every time your eyes meet his, you'll be met with the most devoted stare you can imagine, every word spilling from his lips in prayer are true reverence. 

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they?)

It's not something he puts a lot of thought into, but he loves that you love the hair on his chest, and lets himself be loved in his most natural state, as he would want to do the same for you. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Michael will be so intense and romantic in the moment! This is his way of trying to demonstrate the depth of feeling that he feels too vulnerable to say out loud. Every time he makes you feel good, that's him trying to tell you that he needs you to stick with him, even when he makes it difficult, that you can never leave him because you mean everything to him. He can't say the words so he'll use his devoted gaze, and his strong hands, and every inch of his body to shower with affection until the weight of his love for you is completely undeniable. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)  

There was probably a long stretch in Dr Robby's life where he didn't jack off at all, because he just never had those feelings stirring up inside of him. He didn't think much of it until you two became an item, and suddenly all that desire that he kept bottled up inside demands to be spilled out. He prefers saving his stamina for when you're with him, but when the feeling strikes him and your schedules aren't aligned, he'll take great pleasure in bringing himself over the edge to dirty thoughts of you and everything you do for him, and to him. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)  

It's almost too obvious that Robby has a breeding kink when it comes to you, taking every opportunity to fill you up and let his fingers trail over your stomach and chest as he pictures how good you'd look carrying his baby, and how it would tie you to him forever. 

He also definitely tend to be way more on the dominant side; he needs you to tell him how badly you want him, to make you beg for him to fuck you because you belong to him and him alone. It's the best way to make you say all the things he's always desperate to hear, and he knows if he draws you close enough to the edge and then keeps you hovering there, he'll be able to cum to sound of you telling him you love him with desperate tears brimming in your eyes. 

L = Location (favourite places to do it)

Robby's a little too mature to want to have his way with you in a public place, like the bathroom of a bar when it all gets too much. He much prefers waiting until he can get you home and take his time with you, although he might let his fingers slide deliciously high up your thigh in the taxi on the way over to make sure you're just as needy and on edge as he is. At home he loves getting you in the shower or bath as well, those domestic comforts feeling so novel and romantic to the unlucky-in-love doctor. 

There may have also been a few work days where he's dragged you into a storage room, or the back of a parked ambulance because he simply can't keep himself away from you. Maybe he saw you playing with a patient's kid, or he can just feel himself getting consumed by darkness and he knows tethering himself to you will always grant him salvation. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I mean obviously there is anything that fires up his breeding kink, so seeing you holding a baby or just doing something that hits him as domestic. Seeing you doing anything around your shared home also definitely gets him going, especially when you're putting effort into something for him, whether that's cooking or just a bit of tidying. There's also something so precious to Robby about going to bed with you, and waking up by your side. It's just been so long that he never thought he'd have someone to build a home with, so getting to share that kind of space with you makes him want to prove to you just how much it affects him. 

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Robby might like being in control, more than happy to tie you up or even spank you, but he doesn't want to do or say anything that he considers degrading. He only wants to share this intimacy with you because he respects you so much, and he really doesn't want to ever give you the wrong impression of what he cherishes about you. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Naturally Robby feels extremely lucky whether he's giving or receiving. He loves how powerless you feel when his head is between your legs, your whole body going weak when he starts teasing at your entrance with his tongue. His arms are strong enough to pin your hips in place until he's satisfied that he's the only thought on your mind and the only man you'll ever want to share a bed with again. 

And when you return the favour, Robby still feels like he's the one in control, letting one hand rest against your cheek so he can feel exactly how deeply you're taking in, all his stress washing away the second you drop to your knees.  

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Your man prefers to take things slow, using all of his strength to drag as much pleasure out of the experience for both of you. But sometimes when his day has been particularly stressful, he'll have a much more frantic energy in the bedroom, needing to feel you fall apart beneath him so can ground himself on that familiar feeling. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

It might not be Micheal's preference, but he's more than happy to speed things up if you're the one making a move and setting the pace, the feeling of you desperately needing him becoming the most important thing in the world to him. Also if you're both stuck working at the hospital, and he feels himself getting overwhelmed, he might just make time to drag you into an empty room and plead for your help in distracting him and making him feel better. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Robby's old enough to know what he likes and doesn't at this point in his life, so he's not necessarily in the mood to take risks with you. That being said, he's happy to experiment in the bedroom and try new things if you say you're interested in them, just nothing that's going to end up with you in danger or trouble, nothing is worth risking you over. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

 Robby tends to be a one long round kind of guy - he's got exceptional stamina and self-control and he knows how to prioritise your pleasure above all else, but once he's spent, you're going to have to let him have a nap before you start teasing him again. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He's not the kind of guy that would have toys for himself, but given the way he feels about dragging pleasure out of you, he might just get interested in them if you like to use them. The fact that he can save some of his strength and still have you trembling underneath him would be everything he needs, and if he ever has to go away for a conference or something, he'd definitely want to get a toy he could control through his phone so he can stay in charge of your pleasure no matter how far apart you are. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Micheal adores when you go out of your way to tease him. He may have exceptional self-control, but he's very happy to put on a show for you if you're trying to rile him up, putting on his best whimpery voice and letting you know he'd do anything for you as his eyes glisten. 

When the tables have turned he's an absolute fiend, needing to drive you practically to the point of tears so you'll beg for him and tell him just how badly you need him. Robby needs to hear the words from you time and time again, and there's no better time to tell you what he wants to hear than when he's hovering above you, holding himself just out of reach of your aching entrance. He'll make you tell him you love him, that he's all yours, that you're never going to leave him, every twisted desire that lives in his heart as he rocks his hips slowly against you until finally he's satisfied enough in your devotion to give you exactly what you want. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Robby is louder in bed than you probably first expected - there's a lot of deep moans and primal grunts, but also a lot of talking. Mostly it's questions that he expects you to answer - does that feel good? where do you want me? who do you love? who's my girl? Hesitate too long on an answer and watch his expression shift a little darker as he starts fucking you even harder, reminding you that he needs to hear your devotion.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for this character)

Dr Robby is extremely jealous and possessive when it comes to you - he's waited so long for a partner to spend his life with, who really gets him and loves him despite everything, so he's not about to take any chances with you. That possessive nature comes out in the way he responds to you two marking each other; the first time you sink your teeth into his shoulder when him slamming into you he lets out a noise you've never heard before, and for days after you'll catch him admiring the little rows of marks in the mirror every chance he gets. Now he makes sure to squeeze hard enough to leave his fingerprints on your hips, and to make your release so intense your teeth sink into whatever part of his flesh is closest. 

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

He's a very well-built man, so I think he would be pleasing in proportion ;) 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive might not be as high as a younger man, but that doesn't mean he doesn't always need to have a grip on you. It's more than just sexual, it's spiritual. He needs to have you within arms reach to stop him feeling like everything is falling apart, holding you becomes the antidote to years spent living in the darkness. His heart is yearning just as much as his body does for you. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Robby gets pretty tired when you two have been intimate together, especially if it's the end of the day, but he'll fight the exhaustion and stay awake long enough to appreciate and reassure you that everything was perfect...but not much longer than that. He's an older guy, okay!

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Your legs felt like jelly and your arms ached by the time you got home. The shift hadn’t even been particularly bad, just tedious and long. You had to stay two hours overtime due to a combination of the ED being understaffed, and the incessant charting that always seemed to be looming over you, and all you wanted to do was go home, kiss your boyfriend, and take a nice hot bath. 

You entered the apartment and immediately sought out Robby. It didn’t take you long to find him lounging on the couch, readers on and book in hand. You could feel the scowl on your face as you trudged over to him, all but falling into his lap and burrowing into his neck, letting out a long whine. 

“Bad day?” Robby asked, setting down his book and petting over your hair. You shook your head, “Just long. ‘m tired. and achy,” you sighed. “Want to take a bath,” you said, but couldn’t find the motivation to push yourself up and actually do it. 

“Yeah? Want me to go run it for you?” he asked, already moving to get up. 

“Yes, please, you’re an angel,” you said, pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss. “Can you add those fancy lavender bath salts, please? And some bubble bath?” you asked, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. 

“Of course, honey, just don’t fall asleep on me out here,” he teased, reminding you of the last time you requested a bath, and, regrettably, fell asleep before you could enjoy it. 

“I won’t, promise,” you said, holding out your pinky. He hooked his pinky around yours and left you with one final kiss as you settled back into the cushions to wait. It didn’t take long for your eyelids to droop, and before you knew it you could faintly hear Robby’s voice calling to you. 

Your eyes snapped open, “I’m up! I’m awake!” you said, jolting up from the couch, trying desperately to not look like you’d been dozing off.  

“I saw you. Your eyes were closed,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he leaned against the door frame. 

“They were not!” you argued, knowing full well they were. 

“Yup. They were, but I’ll let it slide,” he said fondly, shaking his head “Your bubble bath awaits you. Let's get you in before you doze off again.” He moved behind you and began guiding you into the bathroom. 

“Hmmm, might need a chaperone, then. Wouldn’t want me to drown because I fell asleep in the tub, would you?” 

“Oh no, we can’t have that,” he said with mock concern, “you’ll definitely need supervision. Might even need to take a hands-on approach,” he said, hands slipping down to grope your hips and ass over your scrubs. 

You hummed, grabbing his hands and stilling their descent into the waistband of your pants, “don’t start something you can’t finish, big guy.” 

“Who says you’re not gonna finish, sweetheart?” he asked, a smug smile on his face. 

You shook your head as you walked into the bathroom, only to see that Robby’d pulled out all the stops for you. The scent of lavender wafted from the tub, which was filled with just the right amount of bubbles, the lights were dimmed and candles were lit. He’d somehow even managed to pour you a glass of wine and leave it perched on the little stool beside the tub without you noticing. 

You let out a groan at the sight, slumping back in his hold and thanking him before quickly stripping. Robby slipped in first, hissing briefly at the volcanic temperature he knew you liked for your baths. 

You step in after Robby settles himself, sighing as you submerge yourself into the hot water and Robby’s hold. You wiggle back against him to get comfortable, resting your head against his shoulder. His arms circle around you and hold you close, big hands drifting up and down your sides. 

You chatted quietly about your respective days between sips of wine; Robby had the day off and spent the day not doing much of anything, blessedly. You regaled him with stories about the patients you’d seen and keep him abreast of the gossip circulating around the ED–some of which he was interested in; some he’d wished he never heard, especially when you start talking about who’s supposedly hooking up with who. 

Soon enough, conversation lulled, the two of you content to sit together in the warm water and enjoy each other's presence. That is, until Robby’s hands started wandering, brushing up and down your sides, skimming your ribs with featherlight touches before moving to cup your breasts. He kneaded the soft flesh, grazing your nipples ever so gently before rolling them between his fingers. You let out a soft sigh of contentment, back arching, pushing your tits more firmly against his hands. 

Robby noses at your neck, beard rough against your skin as he marks your neck, biting softly before laving over the marks with his hot tongue to sooth the sting. You can’t help the soft moans that leave you, overwhelmed by the way Robby can make you a mess with a few well-placed touches and kisses. 

One hand continues toying with your nipple, and the other trails down your body, fingers stopping briefly to flit across your abdomen before continuing down to your thighs. Your breath hitches as he begins rubbing soft circles into the tender skin of your inner thigh, so close to where you’re aching for him to pay some attention. 

“Don’t tease,” you pout, angling your head back to look up at him, eyes hooded with lust. 

“‘m not teasing, honey. Just trying to make you feel good,” he replied honestly, cupping your mound in his hand and squeezing gently before he parted your lips with his middle finger. 

“Always so wet for me,” he murmured, spreading your wetness up and over your clit. “Even under the water, I can tell you’re absolutely soaking for me.” He circled around your clit softly, never putting direct pressure on it. You whined, bucking your hips in search of more friction, for something to grind your nub on, but he kept up his ministrations around your clit, driving you mad.  

Your hips breached the surface of the water, waves sloshing and spilling over the edge of the tub and onto the floor from your desperate movements. 

“You’re making a mess, sweetheart,” Robby chided, hand abandoning your nipple and slinging his arm around your hips to hold you still against him. You could feel his hard cock under you, pressing emphatically against your back. You wondered, briefly, if you could make him cum from rubbing against him in this position. Probably. 

“please Robby, thought you weren’t gonna tease me,” you pouted, grabbing his forearm in a weak attempt to force his hand onto your throbbing clit. 

He hummed, mulling it over. “okay, okay, I'll give you what you want, sweet girl,” he acquiesced, chucking softly at the frown on your face. He resituated you, hooking your legs over his, opening you up wider for him. Your hips sat just a fraction above the water line, bubbles dissipated by now, giving you a clear sight of his hand between your thighs. 

You let out a cry when he finally made contact with your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles against it just the way you liked. You let out a keening moan, body shivering from the delayed attention. “Always so responsive for me,” he whispered against your ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and biting gently. 

Without warning he abandoned your clit, two fingers plunging deep into your pussy. Robby set a fast pace, fingers curling against your walls, fingertips pressing up against that spongy spot that made your pussy clench and stars to burst behind your eyelids. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing merciless circles against it. 

“fuck, please Robby, r-right there,” you cried, body writhing on top of his. The only sounds in the bathroom were your wanton moans and the soft plap plap plap of Robby’s hand against the water.

You could feel the coil in your stomach winding tighter, quickly approaching the precipice of your climax. The stretch of Robby’s fingers was glorious, but you wanted more. “want another one,” you whimpered, wanting to feel the dull ache of him stretching you out and stuffing you full with his fingers. 

“Yeah? My greedy little girl wants her pussy stuffed with my fingers? Hm?” he taunted, already moving to slip in a third finger. A strangled moan slipped from your lips, back arching up impossibly from his chest, ass rubbing up against his cock. Robby landed a slap to your pussy, just hard enough to sting, “fuck, sweetheart, you keep doing that and we’ll both be making a mess,” he cursed behind you, rutting his hips up to slide between your cheeks. 

You threw an arm back around his neck, fingers grasping at the short hairs there and tugging. You were getting close, hips jerking against his hand in uncoordinated thrusts, desperate for release. 

Your head hung back against Robby’s shoulder, letting out a near constant stream of moans and whimpers, Robby’s long, thick fingers working relentlessly against your walls, thumb pressed tight against your clit. 

“Don’t–don’t stop, please Robby, I’m gonna–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he cooed, a hand moving back to your nipple, pinching hard between his fingers. “cum for me, wanna feel your tight little pussy squeezin’ my fingers, shit, wanna feel you fall apart.” 

Robby rubbed harshly against your clit one, two, three more times and you’re coming. White hot sparks coursing through your body, back arched, a sob leaving your lips as the pleasure radiates through your body. Your legs try desperately to close from the overwhelming sensation, but Robby’s legs keep you pried open, unable to anything but feel the full force of your climax. You’re not completely sure you don’t black out for a second. 

You faintly hear Robby grunting behind you, but you’re too blissed out to know why. 

You’re boneless in his grasp when you resurface, brain foggy and limbs sluggish. It takes you a minute to realize his fingers are still moving, that his thumb hasn’t stopped circling your clit. 

“‘s too much,” you whined, hips pulling away from and chasing his fingers in equal measure, unsure if you were running away from the contact or begging for more. Robby pressed harshly against your clit, earning an embarrassing squeal-moan combination you weren’t sure you’d ever made before.  

He tutted, “you told me not to start anything I couldn’t finish, so I made you finish. And I want you to finish again. and again. and again,” you barely caught the evil grin plastered to his face before he moved to press hot, open mouthed kisses to your neck, continuing his devious assault on your clit. 

You could barely catch your breath, the overstimulation making it hard to think, words heavy in your mouth. “what about you?” you asked, hand clumsily reaching behind you to try and grab his cock, finding it already softening. 

He huffed out a laugh, “don’t worry about me, you took care of that all by yourself, honey, grinding that ass against me. I’ve got all night to play with your pretty little pussy,” he said 

It was going to be a long night.

You knew it’d been a bad day before you saw him. 

It was nearly 10pm when you heard the front door shut with a little more force than necessary. There was no “honey, I’m home,” or other such cheesy remark. Robby toed off his shoes quietly, dropping his keys in the catch-all by the door with a heavy sigh. 

He stood in the entryway, eyes closed, for a beat before making his way over to you on the couch, where you were cozied up with a blanket and book. He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before quickly making his way to the bedroom. Even with how hard he found it to cope with the bad days, he knew not to take it out on you. 

You knew on days like this he needed some time to himself to decompress, so you didn’t immediately trail after him. About 10 minutes later, though, you padded into the bedroom, and subsequently into the en suite bathroom. 

You stripped your clothes off as you entered the steam filled room, the air thick with it and the unreleased tension radiating from Robby. He stood in the shower, facing away from you, unmoving. You pushed the shower door open and quickly stepped in behind him.

You pressed your front to his back, smoothing your hands over his shoulders and arms, grounding him in the moment. His shoulders slumped a fraction, the tension not erased entirely, but eased enough for him to breathe a little easier; to pause the spiral you’re sure he’s already started down.

You still hadn’t spoken yet; hadn’t asked about what happened. No, what Robby needed right now wasn’t an exploration of how and why his day went so badly. He just needed contact. He just needed you. 

You wrapped your arms around him fully, rubbing soft circles into the plush of his stomach and nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. “Have you washed your hair yet?” you asked quietly, pressing kisses along the back of his neck and upper shoulders. 

Robby tightened his arms around yours, entwining your hands together over his stomach, and gave a quick shake of his head. You nodded, pecking him one last time just under his ear before moving to grab the shampoo. Squirting just enough into your palms, you began to massage the product into his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp in the process. 

The sound Robby let out could only be described as the human equivalent to a purr. It was deep and throaty, warm and needy. His head tilted back a little more, giving you a better angle. You washed his hair longer than strictly necessary, but you knew how much he loved it, this little act of intimacy, so you didn’t mind the mild ache that started building up in your arms. Soon, though, you tipped his head forward to rinse out the shampoo, before moving on to conditioner, which you quickly applied. 

“Want me to wash you?” you asked, already reaching for the washcloth and body wash. 

“You don’t have to,” he replied weakly, voice hoarse from disuse. 

“I know,” you replied, “Want to, if you’ll let me,” you finished, lathering up his woodsy body wash onto the cloth. 

He nodded then, and you set to work, first scrubbing over his shoulders and back, moving down over his arms and legs. You gave the same treatment to his front, still pressed against his back as you tried to wash every bit of skin you could reach. The angle was a bit awkward, but you knew he didn’t want to turn around and face you yet, still ashamed of the way he handled the bad days, the way he’d go silent even when all he wanted to do was break down. But he wasn’t shutting you out, and he was letting you take care of him, so you weren’t going to argue with him about shower stances. 

Once finished, you stood quietly for a moment as you let the water wash over him, rinsing away the soap. Slowly, you slipped your arms around his front, dragging your fingertips up and down his chest, tracing over his collarbone and any other traces of skin you could get your hands on. 

You continued down, brushing your fingers slightly over his nipples. His breath hitched, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “You don’t have to…” he said again, but not able to protest but so much. 

“Shhh… just let me take care of you,” you murmured back, already pinching his nipples softly between your thumb and forefinger, tugging and rolling them between your fingers before soothing them over with gentle touches. “Y’do so much for everybody else, just let me make you feel good.” 

You continued like that for a while, pulling out small whines from Robby. One hand remained on his nipple, teasing softly, while the other trailed down his stomach, stopping briefly to knead and rub over his soft belly, before coming to rest just above his cock. 

He wasn’t completely hard yet, but he wasn’t far off. You brushed your hand against him, feeling him twitch as your fingertips ran up and down his length, light enough to tease him until he was fully erect. He was hot and heavy as you gripped him, always filling your hand like it was made for you. 

Your fingers traced over his head, collecting the steady stream of precum  that was dripping from the tip and spreading it down his cock with a few languid strokes. It wasn’t the ideal lubricant, but it was better than just water; it would have to do. 

You continued your pace, twisting up and over the head with the palm of your hand every couple of strokes. Robby hung his head forward, bracing himself against the shower wall with one hand, the other clenching and unclenching into a fist at his side. He was letting out whimpers freely now, abandoning all pretense of stoicism he’d held onto before.

“Please” he whined, thrusting shallowly into your hand. 

You moved the hand not jerking him off to his hip, stilling his movement. “Just let me do all the work, okay? All you gotta do is stand there and look pretty for me, okay, honey?” you said, “Can you be a good boy and do that for me?” 

Robby’s cock twitched at the term of endearment, and he nodded his head vigorously, not wanting to risk you stopping your ministrations. 

“Words, baby,” you chided, squeezing a bit harder on your next stroke. “Yes, yes, I can be a good boy. Can let you do all the work,” he whimpered, muscles tensing from trying so hard not to fuck your hand. 

“I know you can. You do such a good job, baby, even when you think you don’t,” you crooned, picking up speed as you stroked his cock. Robby preened at the praise, moaning and groaning at each affirmation you threw his way.  

Your unoccupied hand moved further down, cupping his balls and fondling them gently, before traveling down slightly lower and pressing two fingers against his asshole. Not enough to breach the entrance, but enough stimulation to make a strangled cry leave Robby’s throat. 

You knew Robby was getting close when he got louder, letting out a steady stream of moans and whimpers, along with breathy exhales of your name. You redoubled your efforts, hand moving quickly up and down his shaft and fingers rubbing tight circles against his hole. “You’re bein’ so good for me like this, baby, lettin’ me take care of you,” you said, teeth catching his earlobe and sucking gently. “You gonna be a good boy and cum? Hm? Gonna make a mess for me, Mikey?” you asked. 

“Yes! Gonna cum, please, please, please,” he pleaded, eyes clamped shut and mouth hanging open. 

“Go ahead, baby, cum for me,” you commanded, and with a final swipe of your thumb over his slit, Robby was coming long, hot spurts. The sound he let out was delicious, and you could feel how absolutely, debaucherously wet you were between your thighs. You milked him for all he had, only pulling away when Robby whimpered and grabbed your wrist, stilling your movement. 

He stood there breathing heavily for a few moments, still braced against the shower wall. You ran your hands over his shoulders, thumbs applying gentle pressure to the area between his shoulder blades, whispering words of praise. Content to stand there with him as he came down.  

Once his breathing started to even out, he turned around and gathered you up in his arms. “Thank you,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your hair. “ ‘m sorry I’m like this. Don’t know why I can’t just let the bad days go.” 

You grasped his face between your palms, tilting his head to look at you, “Don’t have to apologize, baby. I know you’re trying your best,” you said, “Did so good letting me take care of you tonight.” He melted into the palm of your hand, pressing a kiss there before squeezing you tighter against him and pressing kisses to the crown of your head. “I love you,” he said, hands skimming down your sides to grab at your ass, “and I'm gonna eat you out so good when we get to bed,” he promised, playfully biting at your neck.

You giggled, “Yeah? Let's get outta here then,” and you’re moving to open the door and grab towels before he can respond.

It had been a hellish 15 hour shift by the time you and Robby got home, wanting nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for the next 24 hours. But neither of you could forego a shower, needing to get rid of the smell of antiseptic, blood, and other bodily fluids before you could actually relax. 

Which is how you ended up perched sidesaddle on Robby’s lap on the shower bench, lazily washing each other off. Somewhere between sudsing up Robby’s body and rinsing him off, your hand found purchase on his cock and you began slowly stroking him, unhurried in your pace, just enjoying the little sounds you pulled from him. You shared sloppy, uncoordinated kisses that left both of you spitslick and simply breathing into each others’ mouths more often than not. 

Robby wrapped one arm securely around your waist while the other moved between your legs, opening you up for him. The angle was awkward–arms crisscrossed and bumping together every once in a while, your leg almost dangling off his lap–but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was your mutual release. 

Your head dropped back when he finally made contact with your cunt, his fingers tracing around your lips before stopping at your entrance. Two fingers spread your slick from hole to clit, his fingertips dancing teasingly over it without applying any real pressure. You let out a frustrated whimper in dissatisfaction, and he let out a tired chuckle before giving into what you really wanted. 

He rubbed lazy circles on your clit before returning to your entrance and plunging one finger, then two, his long digits searching and finding that soft, spongy spot that you’d never been able to reach yourself. The heel of his hand was situated perfectly for you to grind on, which you did without a second thought. Your body buzzed at the feeling of his rough skin against your clit, spurring your hips into faster and more desperate circles as you chased the friction. 

Stars danced behind your eyelids as his fingers alternated between curling motions and scissoring you open, your hips chasing his hand and properly fucking yourself on him. 

At the same time, you kept stroking his cock, faster now, squeezing and twisting just the way he liked, passing your thumb over the head every other stroke. He was throbbing in your hand, hips bucking up in jerky, uncoordinated thrusts. 

Robby’s full-throated moans were muffled as he dipped his head down to catch one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and flicking the pebbled flesh with his tongue before gently biting down. 

The two of you were silent save for the moans and groans you pulled from one another, abandoning your usual dirty talk and working with a quiet determination to get to the finish line. 

Your breath hitched as you approached the edge of your orgasm, the combined sensations working in tandem to throw you off the cliff. But it wasn’t enough. 

You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, soft mewls leaving your lips. “Need more, Mikey,” you whined into his ear, still grinding down against his palm. “Need you inside me,” you continued, finally pulling his hand away and readjusting yourself directly over his lap. 

You took a hold of his cock and swiped it through your folds a few times, each pass providing delicious friction against your clit, before slowly sinking down. It took a minute; it always did with Robby, no matter how many times you’d taken him. But soon enough your bodies were flush together, and you began rocking your hips, small grinding motions that had your clit rubbing against the thick thatch of hair at the base of Robby’s cock.  

It wasn’t a particularly comfortable position, what with the granite of the shower bench biting into your knees, but all you could think about was the way Robby’s cock was stretching you out. You could feel every inch of him this way; every ridge and vein on his gorgeous cock as he fucked up into you, tip kissing your cervix in the best way. 

Robby’s hands rested on your waist, guiding your movements, hips meeting yours each time you sank back down. His mouth returned to your breasts, sucking and biting marks into the supple flesh surrounding your nipples before taking one in his mouth and sucking, cheeks hollowed out. The oversensitivity burned–it was almost too much, but the line between pleasure and pain was perfectly blurred. 

When Robby detached himself from your breast, his eyes were glassy as he looked up at you. “Shit, sweetheart, look so pretty sittin’ on my cock,” he breathed out, eyes fixed on the way your tits bounced as you eased yourself up and down his cock faster and faster, using his shoulders for leverage. His hand slithered between your bodies and found your clit, sweeping in side-to-side motions that had your toes curling. 

It didn’t take long then, your core tightening before the dam burst, your vision whiting out as pleasure coursed through your body. You let out a sharp cry as your orgasm washed over you, walls spasming, a wave a slick gushing out and over Robby’s cock and thighs. 

Your pulsating cunt sent Robby over the edge. With a final thrust, Robby pulled you close, impaling you impossibly deep on his cock, “fuuuuck honey, that’s it. Love feeling you cum all over my cock,” he grit out, head thrown back as he came. You felt him deep in your belly, warmth spreading through you before slowly seeping down and out, washed away by the cooling water. 

You sat slumped against Robby, breathing heavily as his cock softened in your still quivering pussy. Robby held you close, hands smoothing up and down your back as tried to ground you. Your thighs were still trembling–from the orgasm, the position, the exertion–and you knew the ache tomorrow would be a nightmare, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you buried your head in the crook of Robby’s neck, inhaling his scent. 

“mmm I don’t think we got very clean,” you mumbled tiredly. 

“No, I don’t think we did,” he replied, equally as blasé. “You did break the ‘no shower sex’ rule though,” he said, shooting you a tired smirk.  

“Just me? I recall you being there too,” you mused, smiling up at him dopily. 

“I was seduced by a very charming rule-breaker. What’s your excuse?” he asked, eyebrows raised. 

“My excuse is that my very hot boyfriend was sitting in front of me with his very pretty, very hard cock just begging to be fucked. I was tempted, sue me.”

“Oh is that so? You just fell victim to my big, pretty cock, did you?” 

“mhm.”

“yeah, that tracks,” he laughed, shaking his head. He waited a beat, then, “We have the rule for a reason, y’know,” he argued, but you could tell the fight–the very little he had in him to begin with–had bled out. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t want to get hurt and all that,” you said, knowing the lecture by heart by now. “But this ‘very charming’ ruler-breaker thinks it was worth it,” you concluded, yawning. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, content. “Worth it.”

It was a rare Sunday morning–one that you and Robby both had off. The pitter patter of the shower did little to mask the sound of your combined moans and giggles. You and Robby were unable to keep your hands off of one another. Robby’s hands were gliding across your body, groping and squeezing your tits, ass, thighs, and any other bits of flesh he could reach. You weren’t doing much better, hands scratching down his back, nails digging into his ass as you pulled him closer to you. 

You shared sloppy kisses, teeth gnashing occasionally, causing you both to break out into a fit of giggles into each others’ mouths more than once. 

Before you knew it you were being pressed against the shower door, the cool glass a welcomed contrast to the hot water. Robby tapped your thigh, urging you up to wrap your legs around his waist, to which you obliged. He rutted against you, cock slipping between your folds. Your lips caressed his shaft as he slid against you, bumping your clit with each thrust. His tip caught on your entrance every now and then, pressing in every so briefly before continuing its path through your sopping folds. 

With a garbled moan you grabbed Robby’s cock as it once again snagged against your hole, holding it there until Robby’s hips slowly inched forward. You both moaned as the tip of Robby’s cock breached your entrance, his head falling to rest against your shoulder. He slid the rest of his length into you, his hips rolling experimentally against you as he found his rhythm. 

His pace was slow, unhurried as he pulled almost all the way out before snapping his hips back, cock buried deep in your cunt. You loved being split open on Robby’s cock, the feeling of being stuffed full almost intoxicating. Everything else was drowned out by the sound of your and Robby’s moans. 

You’re not sure who or what slipped, but one moment you were pinned against the shower door with your legs wrapped securely around Robby’s waist as he thrust into you, and the next, you were catching yourself against the door, and Robby was gripping onto the metal safety bar for dear life. 

It was deathly quiet, save for your combined pants and heavy breathing, the air still as you processed what just happened. Then–before you could stop yourself–you burst out laughing. You couldn’t help it; Robby looked genuinely shellshocked by the turn of events. 

“You’re laughing!? We just almost died and you’re laughing?” He asked incredulously. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just–you look so,” you couldn’t breathe, trying hard to contain your giggles but failing miserably. “You look so bewildered,” you finally choked out. 

“I am bewildered!” 

Robby was shaking his head in disbelief. “This is exactly why we have the ‘no shower sex’ rule in the first place!” He exclaimed, still catching his breath. 

You reached up to hold his face between your palms, “I know, baby, I know,” you murmured, a little condescendingly, rubbing your thumbs across his scruffy cheeks. “we were having fun, though,” you insisted. 

He looked down his nose at you, shooting you a disapproving look. “I could’ve broken a hip, y’know,” he grumbled, sounding displeased, but wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight against him anyway. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot I was with such an old man,” you joked, rolling your eyes at him. “What, are you gonna start telling me stories that start with, ‘back in my day,’ now?” you questioned, wrapping your arms around his neck and planting soft kisses against his chest. His heart was still beating wildly. 

Robby huffed, delivering a sharp smack to your ass. “Old man, huh? That what you’re gonna be calling me when I fuck you into the mattress later? Hm?” he asked, eyebrows raised. 

You rested your chin against his chest, looking up at him with a gleam in your eye. “Let’s not pretend that it doesn’t get you unbelievably hard when I call you ‘old man’,” you whispered, fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. 

As if to prove you right, you felt his dick twitch against your thigh. 

Not to be outdone, Robby grabbed your chin between his fingers, bringing your lips close to his as he whispered, “and let’s not pretend you’re not soaked at the thought of this dirty old man pounding into your sweet little pussy.” 

You felt your cheeks heat, and your pussy throb. “Touché,” you smiled, nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him deep, tongue tangling with his messily. 

You rolled your hips against his softly, just enough to tease. Robby groaned, chasing your lips as you pulled away and reached to shut off the water.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body and sauntering off towards the door. Robby was still standing in the shower, lips swollen and eyes glassy. 

You looked back at him over your shoulder, “are you coming, old man? I’m ready to be fucked in to the mattress,” you said, shooting him a cheeky grin before walking off into the bedroom. 

The old man couldn’t move fast enough. 

It has to be intentional, you think.

Nobody eats watermelon that seductively unless they’re plotting some kind of evil, tempting revenge.

For what? You’re not sure.

But Robby must’ve been plotting this for days. Shirtless, smug, the nerve. Like enduring his stupidly perfect body all week wasn’t enough. A little thicker in the middle now, hairy chest, the trail of temptation you keep accidentally-on-purpose staring at, leading straight down to places your brain is officially banned from visiting (at least in public spaces).

Normally, things between you are easy. Really easy. Just friends. Friends who sleep together and don’t make it weird (okay, maybe a tiny bit weird on your end, but he doesn’t need to know that).

But here, in this house, with your completely clueless brother basically breathing down your neck? Suddenly easy feels miles away, and gratification feels like some distant, unattainable dream. 

“Kid, you got a staring issue,” Robby suddenly grumbles, wiping juice from his scruffy beard. 

“I don’t have a staring problem. I have, like… eyes, Robby. Eyes you unfortunately happen to keep sitting in front of. So, really, who’s to blame here?”

The words tumble out casually, unfazed by his accusation because what does he expect? How could you possibly not look at him? Beard still a little damp, mouth annoyingly kissable, shoulders broad enough to drown in. 

As if you’re meant to sit here and politely avert your gaze while he keeps existing like some kind of hot, sweaty, overgrown wet dream in basketball shorts, devouring watermelon with a decoration that should be placed on you (preferably the lower half of you, to be exact).

You’re only human. And also, unfortunately, a woman with working vision and a recurring weakness for him.

So yes, you stare. A lot. Maybe a little hungrily. Fine, definitely hungrily. 

But at this point your self-control is less a real thing and more a fond little memory, and if Robby doesn’t like being looked at like a full meal then maybe he should stop looking so edible.

You eventually tack on: “Besides, staring makes sense. It’s efficient, actually. Saves time later, because now I know exactly where my hands are going to go.”

He pauses, mouth twitching as he tries (and fails) to look annoyed. “Yeah? Sounds like you’re planning ahead a little too much.”

You shrug, very innocent, very earnest. “It’s called being prepared, Robby. You wouldn’t understand.”

His eyebrow lifts, and there’s a cocky twist to his mouth as he leans back in his seat. “Guess we'll have to test just how prepared you are later.”

Something in your head is flashing red, warning lights going off like maybe this conversation has wandered into territory you should be a little more careful with, but unfortunately your mouth has never been especially interested in caution. 

“Well, if you think that’s what’s best, I’m not gonna argue.”

He hums low in his throat, pleased in a way that makes your stomach go funny, then licks the watermelon juice from his thumb. “Attagirl. I’ll take care of it later.”

Take care of it later is a dangerous sentence.

You realize that immediately. Later leaves entirely too much room for imagination, and your imagination has never once behaved in your favor. It grabs hold of that phrase and runs straight off a cliff with it.

You bite your lip hard, enough to hurt, because maybe pain will shut the whole thing down. It doesn’t. It just gives your body something else to throb around while your mind conjures up Robby dragging you into the bathroom and pinning you to the mirror, broad hand at your throat, mouth at your ear, fucking you from behind. 

Or maybe he’ll have you right in the garage, bent over the plethora of beach chairs and plastic bins and summer clutter and he’ll mutter something degrading and practical and hot like this is what you needed, right?

Your foot absentmindedly slides higher along Robby’s leg, teasing, inviting.

“Hell of a nice night to just sit out here, huh?”

You nearly come out of your skin, foot retreating to find safer ground as you whip your head around and find Jack propped against the sliding glass door, perfectly at ease, prosthetic off, posture loose, giving no indication he heard anything incriminating or has been standing there long enough to ruin your life.

Which is nice. Very nice. Love that.

You’re on your feet immediately, smoothing yourself back into something casual, something sisterly and not at all like a woman who was just mentally getting railed in the garage by his friend. 

You pat Jack’s shoulder as you pass, because that feels normal, probably. 

“Sure is, Jackie. You enjoy it for me,” you say lightly, flashing him a smile on your way inside, praying your face isn’t glowing with enough guilt and lust to light the whole rental. 

And when Robby followed, waiting just long enough that nobody could reasonably accuse either of you of anything, he’d had you exactly the way he said he would. 

Taking care of it.

On his knees in between your legs with your fingers in his hair and your whole body going loose and helpless while he ate you out like he had all the time in the world.

You’d spent half the evening staring at his mouth and, in the end, that turned out to be a good instinct on your part.

this fic was part of my 2 year celebration: maria's summer in santorini 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ to learn more, click here!

"Alright, good evening, I hope I haven't made you wait too long." Robby comes in to the room and shuts the door.

"Not at all Doctor…?" You sit at the edge of the bed with your hands clasped together.

"Dr. Robinavitch, but you may call me Dr. Robby." He smiles and grabs a stool to sit on. "So, you are here for a pelvic exam, correct?"

"Yes." You smile at him.

"Have you had one before?"

"I haven't. I've honestly been scared to go." You purse your lips, "Is that okay?"

"The sooner the better but it's good that you came at all," He gives you a reassuring smile. "First things first, we'll need you to undress your bottoms. Go ahead and remove your underwear."

You stand up and drop your underwear from under the hospital gown you were wearing. Then you get back on the bed. Robby looks at the the underwear on the ground and bites back a smile, "Okay, lay back on the bed and scoot back until your feet can rest on it." You do as he says crawling backwards until your feet plant on the bed. While you're doing that he grabs a blanket and drapes it across your legs. "Alright, I'm gonna ask you to spread your legs for me okay?"

His voice is so calm and assuring. His eyes are so gentle. It's taking everything in you not to break right now. You nod as you do as he says. You hear the sound of latex gloves. "Alright, Miss. We are about to start. Any second thoughts?"

You take a breath, "Go ahead."

"Great, first I am going to check the outside visuals of your vagina." He says as he lifts the blanket to your knees and looks between your legs. With a gentle touch he runs his fingers along your pussy lips. You feel a shudder down your spine as he moves his middle finger over over your clit. You suck in a breath and bite back a moan.

Robby's head pops over the blanket, "How does that feel Miss?"

"Um, I'm getting a little… aroused." You giggle awkwardly.

"That's okay to feel during the exam. I am touching very sensitive parts of you." He rests one hand on your knee giving it a gentle pat. His fingers are still on your clit. Your brows knit together as you make another noise.

"Perfect," he whispers, "I am now going to lube up my fingers to insert them."

You hear the gloves rub against each other as he spreads the lube on his fingers. Slowly, he inserts his fingers and you let out a moan. Quickly, you cover your mouth, "I'm sorry Dr. Robby. I don't know what came over me."

"It's alright. It's completely natural." He continues to move his fingers in and out slowly. You lift your hips slightly and bite back a moan again.

"Dr. Robby~" You moan.

"Shhh." He hushes you as he continues. He goes further into pussy and press his thumb into your clit gently rubbing circle. Your toes curl and you whimper at the sensation. You dig your fingers into the blanket as you bite back a moan. "You're doing so well. I am just going to press my hand on your belly and curl my fingers around.

"Okay, Dr. Robby." You suck in a breath as you feel his fingers curl then you moan as you feel his other hand pushing down on your stomach area. "Oh shit!"

"Miss," He shoots you a warning glare, "I'm almost done."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Robby. I wasn't expecting it to feel so good." You bite your lip, "Your fingers feel so good."

"I'm glad you think so, Miss. But this is just a medical procedure." He curls his fingers up again as he pushes down again. Your legs lift slightly as you feel him hit your g spot.

"Robby! Oh my god," You grip the sheets.

"It's Dr. Robby and I am almost done." He continues to graze his fingers along the spot as his other hand moves down your stomach to your vagina and with his thumb he rubs on your clit.

"Ah! Ah! Dr. Robby, please. I'm gonna cum." You pant as you ride his fingers.

"Go ahead, Miss" He picks up his pace.

Your knees come together as you moan out. Your toes dig into the the bed as you shake through your orgasm. You hear it as it hits the floor. Your hips thrust onto his fingers as you squirt on them.

After a moment of rest, Robby pulls his fingers out and toss his gloves aside. "You squirted."

"I'm sorry Dr. Robby, I made a mess." You pant.

"Have you ever done that before?" He asks.

"No, sir." You sit up.

"It's completely normal to do. And very sexy."

"Really?" You bite back a smile.

"Yes, now why don't you lie back down so we can continue with the exam."

"Okay." You lay back down.

"Hmm, I don't seem to have my speculum with me so I'll have to use something else."

"What?"

"Nothing you haven't seen before. Are you sexually active?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Then this won't be too uncomfortable." He stands up, "I'm going to have you move your butt to the edge of the bed and I'll hold your legs."

"Okay." You scoot down to the edge of the bed and feel his hands under your calves. One moves to under the blanket again. Then you feel something rub against you entrance.

"I-is that your other tool?" You bite you lip.

"Mhm, just relax. It'll go in nice and smooth after you came." He pushes it in, "Nice and easy."

You bite back a moan as you feel it go further and further. "Dr. Robby," is all you can muster as you feel yourself getting fuller.

"Just take it like a good girl." He mutters under his breath, "God damn."

You feel it bottom out inside you. His waist is flush with your butt. "Dr. Robby… Robby… fuck I can't keep this up." You try to move your hips against.

"C'mon just a little bit longer, the procedure is almost down." He begins to thrust into you.

"Robby, I will keep calling you doctor if you please just pick up the pace and get me out from under this hot blanket." You give him a warning glare.

"Right away, Miss." He throws the blanket onto your bedroom floor and you finally feel like you can breath. You slip off the stupid hospital gown and grab his shirt to pull him down for a kiss.

Robby picks up his pace as he rocks into you. You moan in response and throw your head back, "Yes, Dr. Robby. Harder please!" You roll your hips.

"You are still needy, that is very good. Very sexy." He chuckles as he pins your hips down. You hook your legs around him as he continues. He grunts into your ear as he feels his orgasm approaching, "So tight."

"Only for you Dr. Robby. Only your dick." You pant. You rake your nails across his shoulders as you tighten you grip around his waist.

"Gonna cum again? Cum for your doctor?" He groans in your ear.

"Yes, Dr. Robby!" You moan, "I'm gonna cum again!"

He starts to thrust faster, the sound of skin slapping together echoes through the room. You feel the pressure building more and more until you finally shake through your orgasm. He comes soon after you and continues to ride out both your orgasms.

He pulls out of you with a smile. You grab a towel and wipe between your legs. "What a mess you made Dr. Robby. Does that mean I'm in good health?"

"Absolutely. We'll have to do a breast exam soon though." He says as his eyes move across your body.

"Mm, I don't know… I was thinking, I believe you are due for a prostate exam." You grin.

"Am I? I don't know about that."

"Oh yes, Dr. Robinavitch. Especially for men your age." You draw circles on his chest.

He laughs and pulls you in his chest. "You are not a doctor."

"I don't have to be to put a finger up your butt." You tease back.

˖⋆࿐໋₊ ☆

Computah..... Give those cowboys medical licenses

Time elapsed: 7h7m

Listen we don't have to talk about how much I had to redraw jacks face it's fine

and he wants more, despite fearing it. because it's you, and he's on his knees and you're so close yet so far.

if he just. . .

his nose seeks you, between your legs, nudging, wanting against the fabric.

your fingers in his hair tighten. you swear you can almost hear a whine as you deny him, pushing his head back.

he wants to be as good as you say he is, wants to be useful. why won't you let him be useful? his shoulders sink. his eyes flutter open. robby finds you in the dim light of the bedroom.

please.

you see it. the need. it'd be cruel to deny him any further, wouldn't it? sitting so pretty and willing on your wooden floor.

and so you guide him closer, a soft grip in his hair. when the firm, long line of his nose meets your damp panties once more, he exhales shakily as the scent of your arousal hits him.

it's all for him, isn't it? it's not just the scent of you, either, the sensation of wet fabric against his skin. this is what he needed, what he wanted.

because home isn't four walls, or somewhere to insert a key. it's here, between your thighs, and it's been waiting just as long as he has.

"that's it, michael, that what you wanted?" you coo, nails drifting against his scalp.

he nods into your cunt, eyes closed, in bliss. his name on your lips causes his dick to lurch in his pants.

robby sucks against the damp material of your panties, dark patches aided by his practiced tongue. he dares not move his hands from his lap, but fuck, does he want to touch you. to feel the flesh of your thighs give way between his calloused palms, to ease up to your ass, to squeeze, to explore you with more than just his mouth.

but he knows better than to move before he's told. and it's better this way, really. he doesn't have to think when his mouth is full of your pussy, thoughts quiet, the static off.

it's hot in the bedroom. his skin prickles beneath his shirt, aching for freedom, sweat building. a similar feeling builds in his crotch.

he's hard.

his dick strains against his boxers, seeking you. fuck, when did he become such a dirty old man? doesn't deserve you, doesn't deserve this. pathetic. what's he doing here?

tug.

you pull on his hair. it's all too easy to tell when robby drifts, the way his brows furrow and his movements quicken.

no, you won't have that.

he clears his throat, looks up at you in apology. please don't let it be over.

he's a pretty picture. his face is wet with your slick, hair dishevelled, how cute. and he wants more.

"do you know why i stopped you, michael?" you ask clearly.

michael nods quickly.

"it's because you were distracted," there's a pout on your lips as you talk, "weren't you? and that's not good, we don't want you distracted."

he closes his eyes, a long slow exhale escaping his nose in defeat. a scolded pet. he doesn't want to be distracted when he's with you.

when robby opens his eyes again, he realises you're stepping out of the panties he helped you soak, a wolfish grin on your lips.

there you are, in all your glory. dripping.

"baby-" he starts.

a tut, "sh sh sh, what have i told you? no talking, hm? can you do that for me? you remember what i want?"

fuck, you drive him crazy.

slowly, he inches in, seeking permission with a glance upwards. when you don't stop him, he greets your pussy with enthusiasm. a low groan escapes his throat at point of contact.

finally.

you, all of you, against him.

robby can't resist. his fingers ghost against your shins. he wants more. is he greedy? maybe. but who could resist a girl like you?

his girl.

doesn't own you, but jesus christ, you own him. and he loves it.

his tongue glides through your folds, nose nudging at your clit. those gasps you make are music to his ears, and it's the only thing bouncing around his brain. every noise he draws from you is evidence of the good, hard work he's putting in between your thighs.

robby's dick reminds him it's untouched, an almost painful twitch. he buries a groan into you as his hands dance further along your thighs, before anchoring themselves. a squeeze, he groans again.

thoughts of his shift melt somewhere between the insistent throbbing between his legs and the taste of your cunt. you taste so good, addicting, and sweet. he swallows down your nectar with pride.

if this is all he's truly good for, he's glad.

he'll worship you from the ground up, lay at your feet, anything. because when he loses himself in you, he feels truly alive.

you're so good to him. too good, he thinks.

robby's tongue moves like this is his sole purpose, long slow licks against your slit. dipping in, he groans. you feel it, those low rumbles against you. what a good boy he is, on his knees, obedient, yours.

look at him, gripping your thighs, growling low into your wet heat. your folds give way, welcoming him home. when his pointed tongue drags against your entrance, both hands find purchase in his hair. but he knows this isn't a scolding grip, you don't want him to stop.

you want more.

and he can tell you're close by the way your thighs tense against his hold.

his eyes open, he wants to look at you, wants to witness what he's doing to you - the evidence of his hard work.

there you are, as beautiful as you were the last time he opened his eyes and every other time before that. the moonlight is lucky. it gets to hold all of you at once.

he's undeserving. but you want him. he squeezes your thighs and your eyes meet his.

it's cute, the way robby seeks comfort. silent in a look that speaks a thousand words, a touch that tells you he'd do anything for you.

"you're doing such a good job, baby, aren't you?" you purr, petting him, "does it feel good to empty your head like this?"

michael answers in a growl, tongue entering you before retreating and snaking back up to your clit.

he's teasing you, that's cute.

you're in his beard, on his skin, on his mind. you're everywhere. he's drowning in it. but this ocean is welcomed.

and when you start to reach that peak, he's right there with you, being such a good boy, like he always is.

fuck, he wants you to cum into his mouth, to really make a mess of his face. wants all of it. wants more. wants all of you. needs it. his fingers grip your thighs so tightly they turn white. it hurts. it's perfect.

his knees scream for mercy against the hard floor below. his back aches, but he doesn't care. this is what he's good for. this is the only mercy he will find.

you're trembling. he can feel it. you're panting, too, he can just about hear it over the sound of his own heartbeat running like a startled rabbit in his ears.

he presses a gentle kiss to your clit, then lavishes it like a man starved. and that's it, the point that breaks you, the point that sends you hurdling towards orgasm.

you moan. he whines. you pull at his hair. he takes it, takes everything you'll give when he can offer so little himself. there's only so much of him left. the pain, the pleasure, he accepts both. craves both, only from you.

michael works you through the waves, holding you in place, trying to earn praise. he's soaked, face wet, chin dripping with your juices, won't let a single drop go to waste.

soon, it all becomes far too sensitive, and he knows it. he knows you. one last kiss against your spent cunt and he slowly eases back.

and there he sits once more, pretty on his knees, shoulders slumped, eyes glazed with a tired satisfaction. that proud, expectant slanted smile on his lips makes you want to fuck him until he begs for mercy.

maybe you will. he deserves another treat, doesn't he?

you pet his hair lovingly, "good boy, michael, such a good boy. . ."

his eyes close. he lets himself enjoy being pet, of being yours. the praise makes him melt, though he'd never admit it. doesn't have to, anyway, the way his head lolls willingly beneath your touch tells you everything, the way he's submitting.

your fingers thread through his hair, and you gently tilt his head up to see that handsome face of his. his eyes remain closed. he's relaxed, at peace. his shoulders rise and fall with each long breath.

it's then you see it, the evidence of arousal between his thighs. thick, hard and aching against his pants - but not begging to be touched. because he's already satisfied. you've already given him such a wonderful gift.

but that won't do. he deserves this, deserves the love and care and attention he has so graciously afforded you while on his knees.