#prompt response

"It's a process," he'd amended. A very generous description of how poorly Jack was actually dealing with his own demons - of how he was incapable of sitting still even for a minute at a time, of how he needed to have something to do with his hands, always, of how he needed to be on the move, of how he didn't dare face the stillness of his empty kitchen and the stillness of his empty couch and the still, dead silent, placid, disgusting serenity of his bedroom, lest he actually go clinically insane.

In the stillness, he could hear bullets and wounded cries of young men. In the stillness, the heat of Iraq was far too close on his skin, regardless of the season in Pittsburgh.

In the stillness, her laughter followed him from room to room. Her voice sought him out, called him out, told him to fucking grow up and move on and stop being such a sad fucking sack of shit, he had promised her he wouldn't be like this after she died, he had promised-

So no, Jack hadn't exactly dealt with his demons. But he was the very picture and poster boy of mental health compared to Robby - that fucker had spent his final pre-sabbatical shift all but handing out verbal suicide notes, begging for help, begging for someone to save him from his stillness. So Jack took matters into his own hands and promptly slashed both tires on that donorcycle death trap suicide machine.

And now, with Robby knocked out cold on some zolpidem and quetiapine, wrapped up tight in a blanket with the AC blasting freezing air into Jack's bedroom, the stillness isn't all that bad.

It isn't so empty. Robby's here, head on Jack's shoulder, face almost pressed into his neck.

It isn't so quiet. Robby's mumbling a little in sleep every now and then, but he doesn't sound distressed, so Jack leaves him be. (His words from earlier are still bouncing around inside Jack's head as well, like a ferocious little bouncing ball. Quiet and tear-filled, simply asking "Can I stay with you? In there?" Jack hadn't answered with words, had simply tugged him along into bed and into his arms.)

This stillness isn't all that bad. It has purpose. It has heart. It has Robby.

you’d cursed gloria and all the big wigs at the hospital for hours. they couldn’t plan a piss up in a brewery, and because of that there was only one room booked for you and robby at the hotel you were meant to stay at while on the way back from a conference.

it was late when you arrived off the highway, and unfortunately too late to try to find somewhere else to sleep. robby tried to convince you to take the room while he slept in the car, but after a bit of arguing you agreed that you were both adults and could handle sharing a bed for one night.

you’d both promptly changed in the en suite bathroom before retiring to bed, doing your best to stay on your respective sides. you reckon a heart transplant would be easier, not that you’d every risk trying that, given the fucking bed on the reservation was a queen. robby muttered something about starting a rumor with princess and perlah to get back at gloria; you left that comment alone.

it was the middle of the night when a noise right by your head pulled you from your rather comfortable slumber. you eyes were bleary and body unbelievably warm. there was a weight around your waist, heavy and warm, and you nearly wanted snuggle under it and try to go back to sleep.

in fact, you probably would have if not for the low moan right behind your head and the distinct feeling of robby grinding his cock into your backside.

the slow, intense roll of robby’s hips froze you; a sharp inhale and sudden increasing heart rate. you were no longer on the edge of slumber, too aware of the body pressed behind you, and the realization that the weight on your waist was robby’s arm, and his fingers were inched just below your shirt. his fingers hot against your belly, another moan slipped from behind you, robby’s leg making its way between your legs.

“fuck—,” robby groaned, his voice thick with sleep. another grind against your backside and you realized how wet you were, his knee giving the perfect amount of pressure to your core. fuck, how were you gonna get out of this? this was your boss, in the same bed as you, having a wet dream and using you to get off. if you woke him up he’d flip his lid and actually go sleep in the car ‘til morning.

if this was a dream and not your reality you wouldn’t mind so much. you always thought robby was attractive, big shoulders and strong hands, pretty puppy dog eyes, and one of the smartest doctors you’d ever met. this would be pretty great if he wasn’t asleep and you weren’t caged in.

after a hard press of his knee made your lower belly burn with increasing pleasure, you had to stop him before you actually finished. how embarrassing would that be? robby waking up to you having an orgasm against his own fucking leg. you angled your hips away from his slowly, lifting your leg to ease off his own leg. you thanked all higher beings that he didn’t wake at your movements.

robby’s fingers under your shirt were starting to become a problem, rubbing small circles way too close to your waistband. you turned over as slowly as possible, watching his face for any sign of disturbance. maybe now you could fall back asleep and pretend this never happened; he was bound to make his way back to his side of the bed eventually.

“mm, feel s’good,” robby whispered, breath fanning over your lips. still completely in his own little world. you shut your eyes tight, if you kept looking at his face, or dare look down at his lips, you might lose it. you just had to fall back to sleep and soon enough it would be morning.

it felt like no time at all had passed by when you blinked your eyes open once again, moon still in the sky from the window you could see. now robby’s face was somehow closer, light reflecting off his long lashes as you could see his eyes move back and forth under his eyelids; still sound asleep.

his pesky knee was back between your fucking legs. god, if this wasn’t so awkward, and arousing, you’d laugh at the thought that robby was the type to cling in his sleep. your chest tightened with affection as you looked over his face, peaceful and without a care in the world. he whispered your name, and suddenly his knee rubbed right against your clit through your boxers and you couldn’t stop the moan that slipped from your lips.

the next thing you knew you were on your back, robby’s hips bullying themselves between your legs as he smashed his lips against your own. large hands squeezed your waist, pulling you down against his cock that nestled perfectly against you despite the fabric between you. you were lost for a second, forgot where you were, and kissed him back on pure instinct. robby languidly licking into your mouth as the pleasure in your core reached a dangerous high.

“fuck, robby,” you whined against his lips, your hips trying to keep pace with his own.

that did it.

the sound of your voice brought robby out of his dream and into reality. brown eyes wide open, pupils blown, staring at your fucked out face beneath him. his cock twitched painfully in his boxers, practically wet from your combined secretions.

“jesus, oh god, i-i’m sorry,” he hesitated, realizing what he had done. what he was about to do. “fuck, i’m s-so sorry,” he sounded like he might cry.

before he could completely extricate himself from your limbs you fisted your hand in his shirt to stop his movement. your brain scrambled, you wanted him so bad. all you could think about was how you were so close and how he’d said your name in his sleep. that had to mean something.

“wait, wait,” you panted. “talk about it later, but please don’ stop. i want you, robby, please,” you were ‘t above begging when on the cusp of an orgasm. robby took in your appearance, how your own pupils were blown out and how kiss swollen your lips looked as you spoke. leaning back a bit he could see the wet patch on your boxers sticking to you; how true your words were in that moment.

“fuck it,” robby surged back down to reconnect your lips, both sets of your hands scrambling to remove the layers below your waists. you sucked on his bottom lip, laving over it with your tongue as robby wet his cock between your lips with your slick. foreheads pressed together, breathing into each other’s mouths, robby notched himself at your entrance and gave an experimental thrust.

you were so wet and warm, like he was made to be in you, as if this was his destiny all this time. robby swallowed your moans with his mouth, setting a harsh pace as he fucked into you. you were both so close, all that sleepy grinding had you both at the edge for ages. you settled your hand at the base of robby’s throat, not choking or putting pressure, simply holding him.

“robby, inside, i’m t-there,” you whined against his lips, knees tightening around his hips to keep him close. robby shut his eyes tight, thrusting faster and harder to try to get you to come first.

“gonna fill you up, fuckin’ hell,” your muscles tightened around his cock as the heat in your belly exploded through your nerves. you moaned, lost in the drawn out feeling as robby’s hips faltered in their rhythm as he began to come, shoving as deep into you as possible.

after a few moments of simply holding each other in the wake of your combined ends, robby slowly pulled himself from your wet heat, slow as not to overstimulate too much, and laid on his back next to you.

“hell of a dream, robinavitch?” robby snorted, the ugly way that let you know it was real and uncontrolled.