Work Text:
When Gloria asked the emergency department staff to bring in old photos for the main lobby bulletin board, you missed the memo.
In your defense, you were a firm believer that you were in your residency to learn medicine and save lives. Reading emails, especially ones forwarded by Gloria from the hospital’s marketing and PR team, were rock bottom on your priority list. You were focused on developing your career and skills, not aiding the hospital’s performative attempt at humanizing the staff it routinely neglected.
That’s why you were confused to find a small pile of photos at the central nurses’ station one morning. They were tossed in a haphazard stack where Dana typically kept her obnoxiously large Stanley cup.
“Oh my god,” you laughed as you examined an old photo of Dr. Shen. He appeared to be in his early 20s, sporting a backward ballcap and a red Solo cup in hand; the kind of guy you’d insult for being a frat douchebag before you hooked up with him.
The photo beneath it was of a teenage Dr. Langdon; you could tell from the unmistakable blue eyes.
“I see you were smug even as a teenager,” you teased him as he approached to check the board.
“You think that’s bad, check out the photo of Dr. Ellis,” he said. You snorted once you found the photo in question.
“Don’t forget the one of Dr. Abbot,” Dr. Santos chimed in with a smirk.
You sifted through the remainder of the stack, laughing with Santos as you recognized most of your colleagues until one photo in particular made you stop.
“Whoa,” you mused aloud as you picked it up for closer inspection. “Who is that? I think someone accidentally included a photo of their hot brother or some-”
“Everything okay over here?” Dr. Robby appeared, coffee cup in hand, before you could show Dr. Langdon and Santos the photo.
“All good,” you replied cheerily. “Just checking out someone’s hot relative.”
“Hot relative?” Dr. Robby repeated blankly. “What-”
“Look,” you said, flipping the photo around to show the others. “I’d let this guy fold me like a lawn chair. Who is he?”
Robby twitched. Langdon backed away quietly, mumbling something about the patient in C13. Santos snorted, her bright eyes wide as they shifted between you and Robby.
“What?” you asked, your stomach dropping. Was the guy in the photo dead? Or worse, a serial killer?
“That’s uh, from my first year of med school,” Robby said slowly.
You turned the photo over to reexamine it in horror, praying your colleagues were playing a sick and twisted prank. Sure enough, it was undoubtedly a young Dr. Robby; without the reading glasses, the crow’s feet or the years of trauma and stress. But you should’ve recognized those rich brown eyes, and you definitely should’ve recognized that nose. Your stomach lurched into your throat.
“Oh.”
“I’ll just be going,” Santos said as she dipped her head and made a beeline toward the north hallway, grabbing a confused Mel King by the arm to redirect her away from the desk.
Your lips thinned and your heart raced as you scrambled for something, anything you could say to reduce the mortification that was creeping across your features in the form of a deep flush. You needed a way out of this without nuking the career you’d worked so hard for.
Perhaps there was a bottle of disinfectant you could chug, maybe a scalpel you could plunge into your own chest. Maybe Myrna still carried that jagged old knife in her purse. Or you could sprint up to the roof and hurl yourself to the street below. Anything to escape this horrific sequence of events that would ultimately lead to embarrassment and ridicule for the remainder of your residency.
As you considered the options, Dr. Robby continued to watch you with a raised brow. You determinedly refused to look at him, your eyes positively fascinated by the desktop.
“You okay?” Dr. Robby finally asked, tossing accelerant on your state of panic.
“Yep, peachy,” you said, rocking back and forth on your heels. “Just gonna go drown myself in the river now.”
Robby cracked a crooked smirk.
“Could’ve been worse,” he quipped. “You could’ve been talking about Dr. Abbot.”
Except it could not have been worse. Because, although you would absolutely allow Dr. Abbot to fold you like a lawn chair as well, you didn’t actually have romantic feelings toward him. Sure, you found him handsome and admired his professional skills – you’d certainly hook up with him if he offered – but your heart didn’t leap into your throat whenever he was nearby.
Dr. Robby, on the other hand, made you seasick on dry land.
You spent the first year of your residency telling yourself it was just a silly crush – that, of course you had a thing for Dr. Robby, because who wouldn’t enjoy some attention from the handsome and competent senior attending who drove a nice motorcycle? You were certain you’d get over it after the initial high of working in the ED wore off. But by your second year of residency, it was very clear to you that your crush was not going away. If anything, it snowballed into something much more burdensome and troubling. After all, the last person you wanted to have feelings for was your senior attending who was more than two decades older.
To your relief, the doors burst open from the ambulance bay and an incoming trauma became your saving grace as you scurried off without another word to Robby.
By the time you were off for the night, you’d nearly forgotten about the photo incident – until it was time to fetch your purse from your locker.
You were too lost in thought about the day’s patients to notice when you opened the locker door, your eyes settling on your belongings until–
“Jeeeeesus,” you hissed in surprise as your gaze landed on the picture of Robby, which someone had taped to the door.
You spun around, your eyes searching the central desk for the culprit. Santos, Shen and Ahmad all burst into laughter. You groaned and snatched the photo down.
“You guys suck,” you whined as you tossed the photo back on the desk. Dr. Shen grinned at you as he raised his Dunkin cup.
“Hear you finally admitted you’ve got a thing for Dr. Robby,” he teased.
“That is not what I said!” you exclaimed, glaring daggers at a laughing Santos. “I merely said that the person in that photo looked good.”
Santos snorted. “You said a little more than that,” she noted.
“No one asked you,” you hissed back. “I didn’t realize it was him!”
“Not that it makes a difference,” Santos said, wiggling a suggestive eyebrow at you.
“You guys are the worst,” you groaned as you pushed off from the desk. “See you tomorrow. Or not, if I’m lucky.”
“Love you too!” Shen called after you. You threw a middle finger over your shoulder as you departed through the doors.
You loved your coworkers; really, you did. But the horror that everyone now knew you were attracted to Dr. Robby made you want to sink beneath the floor tiles. What if he thought you were a freak now? What if he began avoiding you? What if he no longer wanted to be your attending? You needed his recommendations for your future career.
Moreso, you needed a drink.
You rarely went out after work, and you never went alone. Normally, you would have doubled back into the ER to see if Mohan or McKay was still around to beg them to go out with you. But you didn’t want to talk about Robby. You wanted to forget about the photo incident, at least for the night.
When you ducked into the nearest bar, you were relieved to find it largely empty, except for a few regulars and a group of students crowded in the corner. You slid onto a barstool, ordered an old fashioned and tried to lose yourself in the Pirates game on TV.
Just as the sixth inning ended, someone took the seat next to you, despite there being numerous open barstools. You prepared to shoot the newcomer an annoyed look and froze.
“Dr. Robby?”
“Mind if I join you?”
“Oh. Uh, of course not. I was just watching the game.”
“What’s the score?”
“Mets are up 2-1.”
Your eyes darted between Robby and the bartender as he ordered a beer, a tightening in your throat starting to swell.
“So how’d your day go?” Robby asked. “I know that stroke case was a tough one.”
“Yeah, poor guy,” you said sadly. “It was just too late to do anything.”
“Good catch on that pedes lead poisoning case, though,” Robby noted. “Only prolonged exposure could yield those kinds of symptoms.”
“I have a feeling lead exposure cases are more prominent than we think,” you sighed. “There’s so many old homes full of lead paint. The city doesn’t enforce compliance on landlords like it should. There’s a lot of vulnerable kids.”
Dr. Robby nodded in agreement. “There was a full seminar on lead paint exposure at a conference I went to in Cleveland last summer,” he said. “We’ve just got to remain diligent in identifying potential exposure. Keep doing what you’re doing.”
You nodded in acknowledgment and stared into your drink, suddenly feeling bashful as you remembered the photo incident.
And as if right on cue, Robby said, “So I didn’t see any old photos of you in that pile.”
You tried to suppress your reaction, a nervous laugh leaving your throat as you wrapped both hands around your glass.
“Didn’t get the memo,” you said casually. “I, uh, have a bad habit of forgetting to check my work email.”
“Might want to work on that,” Robby said.
“Yeah, noted.”
Robby dug into his back pocket to brandish his wallet. You assumed he was going to pay his tab and leave, swallowing your disappointment as you waited. But instead of pulling out any cash, he presented you with another photo.
“This is the other photo I brought,” he chuckled. “Figured the other one was less embarrassing.”
Any fighting chance you had of maintaining your poker face evaporated.
“No fucking way!” you couldn’t help but laugh as you took the photo, your eyes shimmering as you studied it. “Is… is that an earring?”
“It was just a phase, I swear,” Robby said. “And if you tell anyone, I’ll make your life hell.”
“It’d be so worth it,” you laughed, still eyeing the photo. You figured teasing him would prevent you from slipping and making any more remarks about his appearance. Because you couldn’t help but notice he looked good as hell in this photo too.
“And I thought I could trust you,” Robby chuckled.
“And what gave you that crazy idea?”
“Well, you seemed to like that other photo of me,” Robby said carefully. Your eyes widened and you averted them downward to the bar top.
“That was… an unfortunate admission,” you said carefully.
“Ouch,” Robby said before he took a swig of his beer.
“You know what I meant.”
“I’m almost certain I don’t.”
“I meant that I didn’t mean to, you know… sexualize my senior attending,” you said, in disbelief over the words that were leaving your lips. “I just thought you looked good. I swear, I didn’t realize it was you. I thought someone accidentally brought in a photo of their brother or something.” Mortification resurrected itself in the form of a flush that crept up the back of your neck. “Sorry,” you prattled on in spite of your conscious begging you to shut the fuck up. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.”
“Well what about this photo?” Robby asked, his eyes flickering from your face to the photo sitting on the bar. “How do I look in this one?”
You blinked at him in bewilderment. “I’m not sure how to answer that,” you stammered stupidly.
Robby shook his head and took another drink. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess it was my turn to make it weird.”
“Seems like we’re both really good at that,” you offered.
“Yeah, well, you’re not the creepy old guy shooting his shot and missing miserably,” Robby said. His words stilled you as your brain processed them at a glacial rate.
“Wh- oh,” you managed.
“And that’s probably my cue to get out of here,” Robby said. As he fished his wallet from his back pocket again, you began to panic.
“Wait!” you blurted. “I… That’s not… I didn’t realize what you were implying.”
“Forget about it, it was stupid,” Robby said with a wave of his hand.
“I like this photo better,” you said quickly. You forced yourself to look up at him, catching his gaze so that he could see the sincerity in your eyes. “But I like the idea of you in that other photo more.”
“The idea of me?”
“You look fun and hot in this one,” you explained, gesturing to the photo on the bartop. “But the other one made you look more distinguished, more authoritative. I like that.”
Robby quirked an eyebrow at you. “More authoritative,” he repeated.
“Yeah, probably because you’re my attending. Or because I have some sort of weird kink. I don’t know.” You still couldn’t believe you were having this conversation.
“I see.”
It was your turn to consider cashing out and sprinting home.
“Well, that’s officially twice today that I’ve probably committed some form of sexual harassment, so I’m just going to go and lay down in the middle of oncoming traffic,” you said casually.
“I think it’s only harassment if it’s unwanted,” Robby noted.
“You might want to rewatch those HR training videos.”
“Well, regardless, I don’t feel harassed.”
“Oh.”
Robby sighed. His gaze suddenly felt much heavier as he seemed to mull over his choice in words.
“Look,” he finally said as he pulled a few bills from his wallet to pay both your tabs for real this time. “I understand you’re attracted to the 20-something version of me. But that doesn’t do either of us much good now considering I no longer look like that.” You held your breath as you waited to hear what he had to say, though you had a feeling you were going to have to take a risk. “So the question is, do you find this version of me attractive?”
You swallowed thickly and downed the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn in the back of your throat. It bought you enough time to weigh your own words carefully.
“Dr. Robby, I find you more attractive now than how you looked 30 years ago,” you said, feigning confidence as you dared to meet his eyes again. He didn’t answer immediately, but you caught the flicker of something in his gaze you’d never seen before.
“Understood,” he finally said as the bartender came to cash him out. “And would you like me to give you a ride home?”
No photograph could replicate the excitement you felt from his stare. It wasn’t the same, familiar feeling you were used to. He typically looked at you with quiet reflection. This felt much more sensual, more charged, more authentic.
“I’d like that,” you answered. This time, you didn’t have to feign any confidence or certainty. You knew this was what you wanted.
—
“You didn’t tell me you rode the motorcycle to work today,” you deadpanned once outside the bar.
“Didn’t I?” Robby asked with a gentle grin. He handed you his helmet and you shot him a pointed stare.
“And what helmet are you going to wear?”
“It’s a short ride. I’ll be fine,” Robby answered. You glared daggers at him.
“The head of the ED riding a motorbike without a helmet,” you scoffed. “The irony is not lost on me.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise.” You sighed and fastened the helmet, drawing a smile from Robby. “Looks good on you,” he said while he climbed on the bike. As you followed suit, you held your breath with pause before your arms snaked carefully around his torso. He was warm and comforting, strong and sturdy. You didn’t stand a chance.
You silently prayed he couldn’t feel your racing heart pounding against his back. If he did, he pretended to be none the wiser.
As he drove, part of you wished you could prolong the ride, to cling to Robby for longer than six blocks. But you also knew you were in for a ride of a different kind back at your apartment.
The walk from your lobby to your apartment seemed to stretch into an endless trek, and by the time you fumbled with your keys at your door, you were certain Robby could hear your heart slamming against your ribcage.
It wasn’t until you stepped inside and tossed your bag and keys on the counter that you realized you’d just brought your senior attending home with the intention of having sex. It also dawned on you that you’d essentially told him you enjoy dominant men in the bedroom. Something told you Robby knew exactly how to satiate that need.
You both moved in silence. As you removed your shoes and jacket, Robby made his way to the sofa. You fetched a beer from the fridge and popped the cap, handing it to Robby without a word as you sat next to him; not too close, just near enough to imply you hadn’t changed your mind.
But what if Robby had changed his? You turned the Pirates game on the TV and tried to appear nonchalant. Nevermind the only thing on your mind was the inevitable countdown to something that was sure to change your relationship with your boss.
“Atta boy,” Robby said as the two of you watched Paul Skenes strike out Juan Soto to end the eighth inning.
“He’s gotta be the shoo-in for the Cy Young Award, right?” you wondered aloud.
“Without a doubt,” Robby answered. It damn near made you laugh, the notion of talking about baseball when you were mere moments from fucking your boss. But as the ninth inning started, the two of you slipped into an easy discussion on your predictions for the World Series. You surprised yourself, how at ease you could be with the man who was your boss and mentor, as well as the sole object of your romantic desires. Robby had a way of forcing your nerves into an internal war – he set you on edge, made your pulse race into overdrive, but he also made you feel assured and strong, like you were untouchable in his presence. The odd juxtaposition that made you squirm in your seat.
The ninth inning went quick and you soon found yourself staring blankly at the TV while the postgame show droned on.
You could feel Robby’s eyes on you, studying you with patient curiosity. It was now or never and you sure as hell weren’t opting for the latter.
“I’m going to take a shower,” you said carefully, forcing an air of composure behind your voice as you rose to your feet. You strode about five steps toward the hallway before turning to look at Robby with a seductive smile – or so you hoped. “Are you coming?”
If you’d caught Robby off guard, he masked it well. You watched him drain the remainder of his beer before he stood and quietly followed you, lingering in the doorframe of the bathroom while you turned the shower on.
You spun to face him, your gazes locked on each other; waiting, hoping, daring. A beat lapsed, the hiss of the shower water the only sound between you. Finally, you decided to slip your scrub top over your head.
By the time it hit the floor in a heap, Robby was moving toward you. His hand pressed into the small of your back as he pulled you in, lips finding yours with mild restraint. Your arms hooked around his neck as if they’d already done so a million times, latching around him earnestly.
Your lips matched his energy until you both were tugging, gripping, pulling for more. It wasn’t giving, nor did it feel needy; a balanced push and pull between two people desperate to merely discover something different from the other.
You kissed him until your lungs betrayed you, leaving your chest heaving when you broke apart.
“Is this a bad idea?” you blurted out. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to quit trying to be some kind of saint. You were no better, no more righteous than anyone else. And maybe for once you deserved to do something you shouldn’t.
You knew you weren’t the first resident to cross a line with Robby. He’d dated Dr. Collins and you’d heard rumors of him sleeping with other hospital staff. Age and power dynamics aside, you could have it all if you’d simply shut the fuck up.
Robby sighed. Well, fuck; that’s one way to shoot yourself in the foot, you thought. Way to kill the mood.
“You’re right,” he admitted, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It is a bad idea.” He dropped his hands and met your gaze again. “But that doesn’t mean I have any hesitations.”
Jesus Christ. The scalding ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable.
“I mean, I don’t have any reservations if you don’t,” you said carefully, praying you hadn’t just cockblocked yourself. “I just wanted to check. You know, make sure neither of us is about to nuke our careers.”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut if you do,” Robby said, quickly adding, “that is, if that’s what you want. I don’t want you to think I want to keep you a secret either.”
You blinked at him. It hadn’t dawned on you that this would ever become more than a one-time event, a clandestine encounter you’d mutually agree to forget. You weren’t sure what to make of it.
“I… I didn’t realize this would become anything worth keeping secret,” you admitted.
“I’m not trying to put a label on anything,” Robby said quickly. “God knows my reputation is the opposite.”
“I didn’t know you were aware of your reputation,” you mused.
“With age comes wisdom.”
“Right.”
The two of you were left to stare at one another. A beat of silence passed — not awkward, but heavy enough to notice. The hiss of the running water became a roar in your ears.
“Sorry for making things weird,” you said with a soft laugh. “For like, the third time today.”
“Today has been weird,” Robby admitted. “I certainly didn’t anticipate hearing my best resident talk about — what was it — getting folded like a lawn chair? And I sure as shit didn’t plan on ending up here.”
“If this is too weird for you-“
“Sweetheart, I’ve seen and lived enough that today hasn’t even been a blip on the radar of too weird,” Robby interjected.
Oh. Right. This was a man with experience. He knew what he was doing. He knew what he wanted. And right now, he wanted you.
The temperature in the bathroom was starting to rise. And your moral compass was pointing south.
“Right,” you said, swallowing to suppress the final remnants of your conscience. “So then where were we?”
Robby reached out and tugged your scrub bottoms down with one sharp motion. Your eyes popped wider at the audacity, a soft laugh escaping your lips at how quintessentially Robby it was – he hated wasting time in the ED and apparently hated it in bed too. At least there were no patient satisfaction scores to fret over. You had a feeling everyone here would be extremely satisfied anyway.
You pulled Robby into another kiss and used the embrace as an excuse to tug his shirt over his head. The gold chain around his neck glimmered for a half second in the low bathroom light, a fleeting flash that seemed to signal the beginning of your end.
You held his gaze as you moved for his belt, your eyes darkened by the thoughts that had clouded behind them. When his belt clanked apart, the thoughts evaporated. You began pushing every article of clothing to the floor, including your bra and panties.
You inhaled sharply once you registered the size of Robby’s cock in your hand. Meanwhile, he exhaled a low hiss at your touch. You stroked slowly, your thumb tracing gentle patterns until Robby made a sound that damn near made you stop – almost pained, strained, needy. The rush of reducing the man you typically feared to whimpers was empowering.
“Robby,” you whispered. “I need you.”
His response felt reminiscent of a code in the ER. The typical nod he gave you when you asked for help. But instead of guiding you through a trauma, he began guiding you toward the shower.
“Tell me what you need,” he murmured in your ear as your back met the cool tile wall. It sent a chill through you, in spite of the hot water pricking your skin. Your hair became plastered to your face.
“I need… anything,” you said breathlessly. “I just need you.”
Your words were the tipping point; the launch into whatever it was Robby needed to step back into his role as the one who guides you. Robby’s hand snapped between your thighs as if that was its rightful place. You unleashed a breathy moan at the contact, his index and middle fingers massaging around your clit.
The tension inside you tightened. It was your turn to whine.
“Shh,” Robby hushed you softly. “I’ve got you.”
You held your eyes shut as he edged his fingers inside you, sinking slowly until he could feel you desperately clamping for release. They glided leisurely, deliberately, testing your patience until you were jutting your hips.
“Slow down,” Robby cooed against your collarbone. “We’ve got all night.”
You didn’t listen. How could you, when you were so fucking close to the very thing you needed?
“Hey,” Robby said, his voice dropping to a low growl. “What did I just say?”
“But Robby,” you whined. “I need-”
“I’ll tell you what you need.” Robby curled a finger, causing your muscles to tense. “Isn’t that what you wanted – someone with authority?”
“Yes.” Your voice was meek, submissive – absolutely pitiful. You didn’t care. Your focus was solely on the delicious pressure between your legs.
“Good girl.”
His praise made your cunt contract. Robby’s fingers returned to their slow rhythm, dragging against your walls with just enough friction to make you moan. Not nearly enough to make you come.
“I’ve been fighting this hard-on all day,” Robby revealed. “Did you know that? Ever since I heard you tell the others you wanted to fuck me. Made me think about all the things I’d do to you. Never dreamed I’d get this lucky.”
He was knuckle-deep inside you, his fingers pulling against your front wall. You squeezed around them, a silent plea for more. His palm rested against your clit as his entire hand jerked upward, his fingers dragging through your plush flesh.
“Robby,” you panted. Your eyes squeezed shut again. The hot water streamed down your body, mirroring the slickness dripping from your swollen cunt.
“Go on, sweetheart. Let me see how pretty you look when you come for me.”
Every muscle in your body tensed. The squeeze inside your cunt felt so taut, you thought the strain might fold you in half. Instead, Robby’s fingers twisted just enough to trigger your release. You gasped as it hit you, sending a tremble through your walls that made Robby groan while you pulsed around his fingers. He held them there, digging firm into your front wall until he was sure you were finished – breathless and boneless.
You watched through hazy, half-lidded eyes as he sucked his fingers.Your mind was functioning at 30%, drained of all thought and in disbelief that the man in front of you made you come so hard with merely his fingers.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmured before he leaned in to pepper your shoulder with kisses. “Knew you’d be good.”
As you came down from the initial shock of your post-orgasm high, you became obtusely aware of the erection that was pressing against your stomach. You reached for it and stroked, drawing a strangled moan from Robby. You became drunk on the power in an instant.
You dropped to your knees, the running water rushing around your legs as you took him into your mouth. A cluster of obscenities spilled from him. You met his gaze with yours, making you the vision of sin incarnate as you stared upward at him, pupils blown out and pink lips wrapped around his throbbing cock.
You took in as much of him as possible, gurgling around him until his tip hit the back of your plush throat. Robby slumped forward, one arm bearing his weight against the glass while the other hand clutched your wet hair from your face in a makeshift ponytail.
You hummed around his cock, your tongue flattening as it ran the length of the velvety flesh. Robby grunted as you continued to work, your eyes now glassy and your flushed cheeks hollowed around him.
“Jesus, you’re good at that,” he uttered. The praise ignited you with more arousal, propelling you to work harder until Robby was certain his knees would give out. “Careful, sweetheart,” he warned, gently tugging your hair to pull you off his cock with an audible pop. You whined in protest and he chuckled. “Such a good girl. A little too good, if you know what I mean.”
He helped you to your feet and held eye contact as he reached for the body wash. You blinked at him in confusion, panicked that you’d done something to kill the mood. Instead, Robby chuckled quietly.
“No need to worry,” he advised as if he could read your mind. “We’re just going nice and slow, okay?”
He lathered up his hands with body wash and reached to cup your breast, his thumb stroking slowly, deliberately over your nipple. Soap suds clung to your skin, leaving Robby to kiss every spot once they washed away. You let your eyes flutter shut in an attempt to heed Robby’s demand to slow down. You wanted to savor the moment, though you also wanted nothing more than for Robby to stuff you until you were stretched to the max.
He dipped his head to suck gently on your nipple, his tongue flicking and tasting as if he was savoring the taste. Despite the hot water, his touch left goosebumps peppered across your skin.
His hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, merely feeling. He was so attentive, you started to lose yourself in the moment as you wished you could do this every night.
You jolted from your domestic daydream when Robby’s thumb found your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath of air, your hips immediately responding to the stimulation.
“Robby, please,” you begged, certain your body would catch fire if he didn’t fuck you already. You could feel him smirking against your skin as he nuzzled the crook of your neck.
“Sounds like you want someone to order you around but you don’t actually want to be obedient,” he murmured.
You pouted in protest, prompting Robby to bark a laugh.
“We’ll work on that,” he said, resting a hand on your hip. “Turn around.”
He was already guiding you toward the foggy glass before you could oblige. A gentle squeeze of your ass and then he was lining his cock against your eager entrance, nudging until the tip was slick.
You held your breath as he parted your folds, sinking slowly as your arousal pooled around the head of his cock, coating him with your desire.
Robby let out a long, drawn out “Fuuuuck” while you adjusted to his intrusion. The stretch felt impossible, but your walls took every inch until he reached the hilt. He held himself there, hands gripping your hips and lips against the nape of your neck. You didn’t dare move – curious what Robby would do next, and in disbelief over how much he filled you.
“Knew you could take it,” Robby rasped in your ear. He withdrew his cock until only the head lingered within your walls, snapping his hips forward to resheath himself. You moaned in approval. “Shit, you’re good,” Robby continued. “Knew you would be. Knew you’d be so fucking tight.”
Your hands grasped at nothing, palms pressed flat against the moist glass. Beads of condensation dripped over your fingers, mirroring the sweat beads trickling from your body – not that they were noticeable beneath the shower.
You braced yourself against Robby’s thrusts, hips holding firmly in place as you determinedly took his cock. The friction was perfect; just enough to stroke your flesh and slick enough to set a steady pace.
Robby hooked an arm around you to reach for your clit. You unleashed a strangled cry when two fingers pressed into the bud of nerves, still sensitive from its previous attention. He traced lazy circles until his fingers became coated in your wetness too.
“You’re a dripping little mess, aren’t you?” he panted in your ear. “Already gonna come.”
There was no use denying it. Your walls were clenching desperately. Your thoughts were scattered. Your knees threatened to buckle.
“Don’t stop,” you begged.
“Won’t stop until you’re coming,” Robby promised. “Need you to come all over my cock.”
He drove hard into your front wall, his fingers still chasing their reward against your clit. He admired the arch in your back, the way the skin of your ass rippled with each snap of his hips. Most of all, he relished the way your cunt accommodated his cock, so warm and welcoming.
Robby could feel the tension tightening within your walls. It was ready to release. Your moans became breathless and your thigh muscles were twitching. You were ready to fall apart.
One hand fisted your tangled mess of tresses, tugging until you could feel the tingle across your scalp. You gasped at the sensation and your back arched more, swelling the pressure in your cunt. Robby’s cock drove harder and faster until the words leaving your lips became incoherent. You braced yourself as you sensed the swell within your walls, rising and peaking until the crest neared.
It broke with a deep shudder. Your knees knocked together and your lungs burned. You convulsed, your walls fluttering around Robby’s cock while he grit his teeth. Your release dripped until it became unclear where it ended and the shower water began.
Robby couldn’t believe he’d ever let himself think fantasy was sufficient. Not anymore, not now that he had the real thing — you, bent before him, your swollen, sopping cunt swallowing him with insatiable greed as you whined and whimpered his name.
This was a privilege he’d assumed was only preserved for the clean-cut handsome guys, the Frank Langdons of the world — the ones who had the charisma to trick you into believing they deserved you. Certainly not the sad, middle-aged senior attending who pushed people away, viewed the world with pessimism and was more bark than bite.
“Holy shit,” he panted as your body slackened, your hands splayed across the glass for support.
The tension you’d felt all day was replaced with haze. You became overstimulated, hyper aware of the elements attacking your senses — the hot steam heavy in the air, the force of the water’s spray, the gurgle of the shower drain.
And of course, the stiff cock that was still inside you. You wanted more from it. You wanted to milk this chance as much as you could. You needed to prolong your time with Robby until he insisted on leaving.
But you were so fucking spent now.
Robby said nothing as he pulled out of you, your eyes widening in surprise.
“Wait,” you protested. “You didn’t-”
“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Robby chuckled. “Just take a breather.”
He held his cock in his hand and pumped it a few times, igniting more guilt within you.
“But-”
“Listen, I may be an old man but I’m not going to leave you short-changed.” He hooked an arm around your waist to tug you in close, his lips ghosting across your ear. “Now stop questioning me.”
The emptiness inside your core ached again.
Robby pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade and shut the water off. You blinked at him but obeyed his demand and remained mum, impressed by his restraint.
He reached for the bath towel hanging on the wall and draped it around you, watching quietly as you dried yourself off. His hand returned to his cock.
“You should drink some water,” he suggested. You offered him a pointed blink, drawing a raised eyebrow from him. “Go. Now.”
“Fine,” you quipped, your arousal spiking over the way he ordered you around. You had a fleeting thought that this may make work in the ED more difficult, given you took orders from Robby there all day. But you decided you’d deal with that dilemma at a much later time.
Your damp feet left footprints as you padded down the hallway to the kitchen to fetch your water bottle from the counter. You sipped, then called out, “Can I get you anything?”
“I’m good, thanks,” came the reply. You stood in the middle of your kitchen, blinking blankly at your fridge as you realized you were naked, still dripping wet, mid-sex break while your boss was likely stroking himself down the hall.
You weren’t sure how you were going to explain any of this to your therapist. Another issue for another time.
When you returned down the hall, you found the bathroom vacant and peered into your bedroom. Robby was lounging on your bed, still wet, still naked as he sat up against the headboard.
Had it been anyone else, you might have whined about him getting the duvet wet. You couldn’t give a flying fuck this time. There was something so damn sexy about how unceremonious he looked — assured, competent, laid back. Like he was always meant to end up there.
He stroked his cock gently while his eyes clung to you like static. You didn’t need to exchange words to reach the mutual understanding that you were going to ride him until the metaphorical wheels fell off.
You closed the distance from the doorway to the bed in record time. Robby held your gaze as you crawled on top of him, your thighs flanking his as he prepared to be buried inside you again.
But you shifted backward just enough to prolong the inevitable. Your folds gently kissed the tip of his cock as you teased him, coating him with your arousal until your clit threatened to spasm.
“You’re such a fucking troublemaker,” Robby growled.
You flashed him a smirk. It was short-lived as your lips parted with a moan, your walls clenching around nothing until your willpower evaporated.
Your hips jutted forward until Robby’s cock was nudging your entrance. You sank slowly around it to reacclimate to the stretch. Nothing about this felt polished or proper. Rather, it was pure, unfiltered derangement. Delirium dripping with desperation. A frenzied stray from propriety. The refreshing plunge into recklessness.
And a massive weight off your shoulders.
After all, now you could quit pretending. No more charades, no more masking. No averting your eyes every time Robby looked your way. You no longer had to hide your attraction from him.
“Still so fucking tight,” he rasped.
You dipped lower until you reached the hilt, settling at the base of his cock. Your jaw remained clenched, tense like the immense pressure expanding in your core. You swallowed as if loosening your throat would do the same for your cunt.
Once you gathered the courage to move, you exhaled sharply through your nose. Your hips rocked. Robby’s cock pressed deep, prodding where you didn’t think it was possible. You didn’t know you could feel this full, let alone this good.
Your hips lifted and descended slowly so you could feel every exquisite inch of him. But soon, your own greed left you chasing another release. You bounced harder, faster until Robby’s fingers pressed firmly into your hips.
“God, you’re good,” he groaned. “Taking me so fucking well.”
His eyes were everywhere: your bouncing breasts, your teeth tugging at your bottom lip, the point of union his slick cock disappeared inside your heat. He wanted to commit all to memory.
“Fuck, Robby,” you panted, prompting a low moan from him. The way his name fell from your lips sounded like a religious hymn, a siren song he’d seek out every time.
“That’s it, sweetheart, go on. I can take it.”
You took those words as permission to rock harder, hips slamming against Robby’s as your hands supported yourself against his chest. It was the first time sex felt truly, unequivocally liberating — no anxieties, no shitty self-esteem and no need to pretend you were enjoying yourself to stroke any egos. This was a man who didn’t feel like he needed to make you feel as good as possible, but rather one who knew he would.
Robby bucked his hips upward, knocking the wind from your lungs. Your moan of approval spurred him on. His hands held you firmly in place, perched on top of him while his cock pounded the tension from you.
Your moans chorused louder, a covert praise to every higher power for granting you the privilege of crossing paths with Michael Robinavitch. This was as close to religion you’d ever get. Eternal salvation in the form of sin.
Robby waited patiently as you scaled your peak. He could feel your thigh muscles tensing around him, though not nearly as constrictive as your cunt compressing his cock. His own resolve was waning, fissuring from the vision of you falling apart.
The sounds humming from your throat became muddled, much like your thoughts. Clarity was gone. Composure had vanished. You were a scrambled mess of disheveled, fucked out desperation. And when your climax finally surged, your body responded with gratitude.
It burned white hot, scorching through your nerve endings until you spasmed. Your palms pressed firm and flat into Robby’s chest, your arms threatening to buckle. It rocked you in waves, surging through your pulsating walls as you coated Robby’s cock with your release.
It coaxed his own reward. His cock twitched and he swore loudly, hands squeezing your waist as he erupted inside you with a strangled grunt. You moaned for emphasis until you could feel him leaking from you, soaking both of your thighs.
You both went slack, the sounds of your vulgar union replaced with your labored breaths. You let your vision tilt into focus before you dared to look at Robby. He looked equally exhausted, which drew a faint laugh from you. He ran an affectionate hand up and down your thigh while he caught his breath.
When you finally climbed off of him, you collapsed next to him, grateful for the extra pillows you’d decided to buy on a recent trip to Homegoods. The plush surroundings, cool room and post-orgasm haze lulled you into a serene state. It contrasted the shock you felt when the mattress shifted, signaling Robby’s departure from the bed.
You watched him in quiet disappointment as you assumed he was going to get dressed and leave. You always assumed he would, although not so soon; not before your heart rate leveled out; not before you exchanged the frivolous small talk that accompanied casual sex; not when he was still seeping from your entrance.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. Emotion never looked good on you anyway.
But instead of getting dressed, Robby disappeared from the bedroom without a word, returning a few beats later with your water bottle. You blinked as you took it from him.
“Do you think I’m too irresponsible to remember to drink water?” you mumbled before taking a swig. He slid back into the bed next to you.
“I think you’re very responsible,” he answered. “But I also know you worked all day and spent the evening drinking bourbon and engaging in… physically demanding activities.”
You snorted into your water bottle. “Respectfully, Dr. Robby, you are such an old man.”
“Calling me old after I just had you calling my name. Where do you get off?”
“On top of you, apparently,” you muttered, drawing a grin from him.
“Always happy to help,” he said, stretching to drape an arm over you. It felt so easy, so effortless, you couldn’t help but wonder if this could become your future. You also wondered if Robby could read your mind, because he added, “Happy to help in the future, too. You know, if you ever find yourself getting turned on by photos of me again.”
“You’ll just have to keep showing me more,” you said.
The next morning, when you opened your locker at work, you found a new photo of Robby taped inside the door.