aliceintvland

[aliceintvland]

In Circles Somewhere Else -- ch 7

this is the second to last chapter i think xoxoxo

The walk home was quiet. Just the sound of rustling leaves, a siren or two, and Robby's breathing.

It was as if the weight of the past few years was crushing both of you, steps slower than usual, out of fear for what you're about to face.

It has to happen, you're both adult enough to know that. And from the moment you went up to him in the bar, there was an understanding that you two were so intrinsically linked there was nothing that could be done. Besides facing it.

Robby lets you into his townhouse, the darkness consuming you as you step inside. He turns on the light, immediately apologizing as he reaches for the dimmer.

"I know you hate the big light," he chuckles. "Sorry."

You sit on the counter, with a comfortability of someone who used to spend hours dancing in the kitchen. He walks up to you, breath catching as he settles between your legs and pulls you into a hug.

"What are you doing?" you ask with a whisper, resting your chin on his shoulder. He shrugs, and you wrap your arms around him.

Lifting your head, you look into his eyes, longing and mournful. The logical part of your brain tells you to run. Jump down and leave, slamming the door on him one last time.

But something takes over. You let him cup your cheek, thumb stroking your bottom lip. He dips his head, lips catching yours.

You melt against him, moving your mouth on his. It's not rushed--no, quite the opposite. Languid and tender, as if getting to know each other for the first time. Or at least, these versions of yourselves.

He pulls back, leaving you gasping for him, as if his kiss was keeping you alive. Resting his forehead against yours, he speaks lowly.

"Tell me you don't love me anymore," he says, looking at you. "Tell me that so I can move on and stop fucking seeing you in every person I meet."

"I can't," you say, truth spilling out. Tears prick at your eyes as you squeeze him tighter, feeling him inhale your scent. "I want to. But I can't."

"Come on," he shakes his head, eyes glassy. "I broke us."

You shrug, fingers toying with where his hair falls on the back of his neck, twisting the short strands. He looks to you for something, anything.

The words just spill out of your mouth.

"I'm terrified that you might be the love of my life."

Recognition creeps over his features, slowly but surely, and you watch as tears brim his eyes too. You should've known that the second you returned to his orbit, you'd get sucked back in.

Not that you were ever free to begin with.

After you left Robby, you had seen a few people. Never serious, and never as passionate. You found yourself comparing every man to who he used to be--thinking of him late at night, wailing into a pillow thinking of how things could've been different.

"You might be mine, too," he speaks finally. "And I blew it."

You kiss him again, needier this time, shaking your head. His tongue traces along your lower lip, hand on your hip as you part your mouth for him.

"You were so good to me," you pull back, mouth still partially on his as you whisper the words meant to give him peace. "Michael, you were good to me until you weren't. And then I just felt alone."

"I know, honey," he rubs circles on your back. "I know. I don't know where I went."

You know exactly where he went. Into a rabbit hole called grief - the kind that consumed him and took the joy out of his once tender soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SEPTEMBER 2020

You had warning, at least, on the day Adamson died.

It had been nearly a week of Robby's silence, anxious energy consuming the home as he stayed glued to his phone even when he wasn't working. Waiting for the update that his mentor was awake.

So when Dana called you, voice thick with tears, your own breathing stopped for a moment as grief took over. While you knew logically the call was going to come eventually, you didn't think it would happen like it did.

She gave you a play-by-play, explaining the choice Robby had to make, and the devastating consequences.

"Just give him some extra love," she sniffled. "He's on his way home now."

Before you had time to even process her words, the door opened. Frozen, you turned to him, waiting expectantly for something.

You could tell he had been crying, his eyes red and face splotchy. He didn't even complete his usual pandemic routine: take his shoes off outside, jump immediately in the shower, wash his scrubs on sterile before even getting near you.

Instead, he collapsed into your arms, letting out a wretched sob. You guided him to the couch, giving your best soothing rubs and calming shushes, all in vain against the grief that sat heavy on his chest.

"The girl," he explained through tears, telling the same story Dana already warned you about. "Didn't even make it either. I fucking killed him for no reason."

"Baby," you whispered, cupping his tear stained cheeks and making him look at you. His gaze flittered down, lip trembling. "You didn't kill anybody. Stop that right now, okay? You did your job. And I know he would've done the same."

"You can't possibly know that," he answered, desperate to blame himself. "I could've given him more time."

"We both know that isn't realistic," you offered, acutely aware that nothing you could say would make him feel better. But you love him, so you had to try. "You can't carry that, Michael."

"I took him off ECMO," he said, and you watched as he grew more restless against your touch.

"You did what you had to do," you replied calmly.

It shouldn't have surprised you that he snapped. Months of being understaffed, under equipped, and traumatized in the wake of a politicized medical tragedy the likes of which the modern world hadn't seen before weighed on him.

Since March, you watched him try to keep it together. Bags under his eyes growing and wrinkles deepening. He would find glimmers of joy, mostly with you on the weekends, but the chaos of his job was a dark cloud hanging over his head.

And Adamson was the final straw, causing the storm to unleash on the one person who would've done anything for him.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he gritted his teeth, rubbing his temples as if your voice was giving him a migraine. "You say this shit as if you know what goes on there."

"Michael, I'm just trying-"

"I don't give a shit what you're trying to do," he said, voice broken, gritty, and tired. "Seriously. I can't with the fucking fake optimism right now."

"I just-"

"You wouldn't last a fucking day in there," he continued, standing up and pacing in frustration. "Actually, not even a goddamn hour. So enough of this bullshit. It's not helping."

"I just want-"

"ENOUGH," he yelled, voice raspy and threatening to break.

You sat there, dumbfounded, heart breaking even more. Robby's eyes widen a bit, as if realizing he just pushed away the one person truly in his corner.

He went to take a shower, leaving you to cry. Later, when he crawled into bed, his arms wrapped around you wordlessly. You could feel his tears on your shoulder, warm and wet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. And you believed him, blaming it on the shock and guilt of the loss. "That wasn't fair."

"No, it wasn't," you grumbled, kissing the top of his head anyway. You stroked his beard, earning a contented sigh from him. "I was just trying to help."

"I know," he admitted, lips moving against your jaw as he tilted his head up. "I love you more than anything."

"I love you too," you replied, holding his hand in the darkness, symbolic of the one you were about to follow him into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PRESENT

"This feels right," he mumbles, arms wrapped around you on the couch. You hum against him, head on his shoulder. "Like you never left."

It's been over an hour since you hit pause on the making out, convincing him you two were overdue for a conversation. And despite his instincts to avoid vulnerability like the plague, he agreed.

You both took showers--separately, to cool down a bit. Now, you sit on the couch, tangled in each other's bodies-but still maintaining the illusion of emotional distance.

"Okay Mr. Softie," you giggle. "It's your turn now."

"What was the question again?" he asks.

"Your worst day since we broke up," you repeat.

You just shared yours, opening up to him about the fact that your biological father found you, showing up to your work to try to make amends. All it took was an hour long dinner and a few mean drunken comments for you to realize he never truly changed.

Robby held you in response, kissing your forehead, commenting on how lovely the closeness felt. But you know he's avoiding his turn.

"Why don't we do a second best day?" he asks, tip-toeing around the question. You furrow your brows, disappointed but not surprised at his inability to share his feelings. But he must be able to read your mind, because he sighs, lacing his fingers in yours. "Fine."

He tells you everything. The braindead teen around Jake's age, the young girl who drowned, Dana's assault, Frank's drug use, and Pittfest. He talks about losing Leah, the troubled young man, and Jake shutting him out. He tells you that he didn't even feel like himself, collapsing on the floor of the makeshift morgue, praying to a God he wasn't even sure he believed in.

He speaks, tone flat, as if he's recounting a story he's disconnected from and not the worst day of his life. But it doesn't matter to you how he delivers it - only that he can stomach talking about it. That's growth.

"Baby," you whisper, watching the way the old nickname makes his jaw twitch. It's too late for you to go back now, his head resting on your chest, running your fingers through his short hair. "You should've called me."

"Would you have answered?" he asks. You nod.

"I called you," you remind him. "You're the one who didn't answer."

"You know what I was thinking about when I was on that floor?" he asks, and you shake your head, squeezing his hand. "The night I proposed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MAY 2020

"This one needs to go," you giggle, holding up one of Robby's old ties, a hideous bright green plaid staring back at you. He takes it from your hand, running his fingers along the smooth fabric before nodding, tossing it into the THROW box. "That is not your color, baby."

"Fine by me," he shrugs. You notice he's antsy, fingers twitching at his side as he sorts through his clothes, allowing you to help him purge before the move. Must be the change. "What about this?"

You snort as he holds up a bowtie, red and polka-dotted, a grin forming on his face ear-to-ear.

"What are you, Patch Adams?" you giggle. "Throw."

"Way ahead of you, honey," he laughs, eyes glancing at the clock. "Hey, don't you have that Zoom with your sister?"

"Shit," you murmur, searching through the pile of clothes on his bed for your laptop. Robby leans in, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"I'll go pick up our dinner," he says nonchalantly, and you nod. "Tell Nicole I said hi."

"Don't forget your mask," you call out after him, as if he ever would.

You log onto the Zoom, chatting with your sister. The minutes turn into nearly an hour, and it isn't until you hear a muffled FUCK through the door that you realize Michael's home.

Saying goodbye to your sister, you head down the hall, already hearing him cursing under his breath. When you approach, he calls your name.

"I broke a glass, don't come in here," he sounds panicked, as if he's hiding something. You turn the corner, confident in your Ugg slippers ability to protect you from the shards. "I told you not to-"

"What's all this?" you ask, a smile creeping over your face.

The small kitchen is dimly lit, candles on the table with a gorgeous meal laid out. Two glasses of wine are filled generously, and a bouquet of your favorite flowers serve as the centerpiece.

"It's not quite finished," he explains, on his hands and knees sweeping up the glass. You crouch down to help him, first cupping his cheeks and placing a kiss on his lips. "You were supposed to be on the Zoom."

"Then I heard some klutz dropping things in the kitchen," you giggle. "What's the occasion?"

"Just, uh, just celebrating us," he stands, throwing the remainder of the glass into a box before pulling you up. He wraps you in his arms, hand heavy on your waist. "And our next chapter together."

You smile softly, the stress of moving in the midst of a pandemic suddenly melting away. You get to wake up to him every day, in a house you share. That's all that matters.

"I'll miss this apartment," you hum against his chest. "Honestly, for a bachelor pad, it's pretty nice."

"You spruced it up for sure," he comments, moving a piece of hair behind your ear. "You bring light to everything you touch."

Robby glances over at the table, the steam from the food slowing, wine calling your name. He guides you to your seat, pulling out your chair and making you giggle at how attentive he's being.

"To us," he holds up his glass, and you'd usually mock him for the cheesiness. But tonight, you grin, repeating the sentiment.

Dinner is nice, just like every moment you spend with him. You talk about your future in your townhouse--the backyard is perfect for kids to run around.

Sure, he'll consider getting a cat; yes, you can bring your watercolor kit; maybe, he'll finally watch Downtown Abbey with you; no, he doesn't want vibrant wallpaper in the den; of course, he'll do it if it makes you happy.

"I didn't think it was possible to love someone the way I love you," he says, hand reaching across the table to grab yours. "Do you understand the joy you've brought to my life?"

"I feel the same way," you squeeze his hand, tears brimming your eyes. It's overwhelming how much you love him--how safe he makes you feel. "You're my favorite person."

"I know I'm not the best at expressing my feelings," he clears his throat, shifting a bit. You see his cheeks visibly blush. Must be the wine. "But I know that when I picture the rest of my life, it's with you."

You watch as he stands, kneeling just as quickly, the room moving in slow motion.

"Michael," you whisper, feeling him drop your hand as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Your hand shakes as you reflexively hold it out for him, tears fully falling as he opens the box to reveal a perfect oval cut diamond, sparkling and simple-but oh so beautiful.

"Will you marry me?" he says the words through tears, a grin overtaking his face, smile lines surrounding his eyes.

You nod furiously, allowing him to slide the ring on your finger, throwing your arms around him as he leans forward to kiss you.

It's not how either of you pictured it. Surrounded by cardboard boxes in his one-bedroom apartment as the world falls apart around you. Tomorrow, you'll stay home and pack while he puts on his hazmat suit, navigating the battlefield that is the ER during a pandemic.

But tonight, you have each other. The joy and hope and a love so pure you feel like it's too good to be true.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PRESENT DAY

"Did you love her?" you ask, head on his chest. After more making out, and some grinding like teenagers, you hit pause again.

You can feel him tense, the circles he's drawing on your back slowing down as he sucks in through his teeth.

"I'm assuming you're referring to Heather," he surmises, and you nod, looking up at him with curious eyes. You don't know why you asked, because both answers would hurt you.

Either he loved someone else, or you broke him so badly that he's no longer capable.

"Maybe," he admits, waiting for you to respond. When you don't, he sighs. "But it was different. I wasn't in love with her. Not like with you."

"All I want is for you to find happiness," you tell him. It's the truth.

"I know that," he kisses your temple. "I'm happy right now."

You lay your head back down on him, not sure of what to say, and afraid if you look into his eyes too long you'll break.

"I think I am too," you hum, sucking through your teeth when he toys with your waistband, his boxers hanging low on your hips. "Michael. Please."

"Please what?" his head shoots up, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he sits up straight, guiding you to straddle him. You're pliant against his touch, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes, the familiar churning in your stomach coming back.

"Please don't do this unless you're sure," the words come out like a whisper, pathetic and hushed. Robby's face falls, sorrow creeping over his features.

"About you?" he asks, like the words pain him to say. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

[aliceintvland]

prompt 15 with robby and langdon… imagine being back to chest with robby and he’s soothing you while langdon is just going at it

love your writing so much!!💕

omg thank you first off and second THIS IS SO HOT. Smut below the cut!

This wasn't the plan for your Friday night. Your agenda was to take a bubble bath, make a nice dinner, and snuggle up next to your boyfriend.

So you're not quite sure how you ended up here, naked on your bed, pressed up against your boyfriend's chest as your co-worker admires your glistening cunt.

It had all started when Frank showed up under the guise of dropping off a whiskey he was gifted but won't drink. Since the divorce, he's been lonely. So you and Robby agreed to invite him in, give him some dinner, and share a drink.

It wasn't long until Robby pulled you into the bathroom, grip on your wrist tight.

"You two are flirting up a storm right now," he said, hand on the back of his neck. You scoffed, kissing him playfully. "I'm not mad."

"Well good, because we're definitely not," you laughed.

"I wouldn't care if you were," he shrugs, breath hot on your face. "In fact, isn't that what you wanted?"

You thought back to a drunken night a few weeks ago, where after prying from Robby you had confessed that if you had to fuck any other person at PTMC it would be Langdon.

"I want you," you assured him, rubbing your thumb along his jaw. "You're my number one guy."

"You should let him fuck you," he blurted out, and you thought you misheard him at first. Robby put his hand on your waist, squeezing firmly. "With me here, of course. You should let us both fuck you. If that's what you want."

You can't form a coherent sentence, not with the way he's looking at you with pleading eyes and parted lips. But the lightning bolt that strikes through your body at the thought is the only answer you need.

"It is," you whispered. Robby moved a piece of hair behind your ear.

"What exactly do you want?" he stepped forward so that you're backed up against the counter, voice low. "Need you to say it. So I can go out there and ask our guest to join us in the bedroom."

"I want you and Frank to fuck me," you said, legs already buckling. Robby kissed you, filthy and rushed, before nodding.

"Okay, baby," he says. "Do you want to set any ground rules?"

You think about it for a moment, furrowing your brow and twisting your lips. Robby waits patiently.

"Condom," you say.

"Obviously," Robby chuckles. "Anything else?"

"He can't fuck my ass," you whisper, and Robby chuckles a bit. "That's only for you, when we're alone."

"Deal," he nods, kissing your forehead. "Are you good with his mouth? Fingers? Do you want him to kiss you?"

"What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want," he says honestly. In any other relationship, this would feel like a test. But you can see it in Robby's eyes: all he wants is for you to get the most out of this.

"I only want to kiss you," you decide, and the way Robby looks at you almost causes you to melt right there. He places his mouth on yours, soft and forgiving, grinning against you.

"Go get ready, honey. I'll go talk to him."

It didn't take any convincing to get Langdon to agree. He practically raced Robby to the bedroom, inhaling sharply at the sight of you sitting there in your bra and panties.

Robby strips down to his boxers, already half hard, slipping behind you on the bed, his back against the pillows. You settle between his legs, allowing him to unhook your bra and slide down your lace underwear.

"Holy shit," Frank mumbles, almost to himself, still standing at the edge of the bed. You feel your cheeks grow hot, a bashful smile creeping over your lips. "You're beautiful."

"Isn't she?" Robby cups your breasts, toying with your hardening nipples as you lean back into him. "My pretty baby. You're lucky I don't mind sharing."

It's as if Langdon is afraid to make the first move, eyes lost in every curve and freckle on your body. You let out a whimper at Robby's touch, pussy already throbbing and begging for something more.

"Go ahead," you whisper to him. "You can touch me."

It's all he needs to sit at the edge of the bed, fingertips dancing up your legs. You shiver at his touch, gentle and unsure, as if you're an antique doll he's terrified to break.

"So wet," Frank says, eyes meeting yours. "You excited about this?"

"I am," you confirm, grinding back against Robby as he mouths at your neck. You place your hand over his, as if to thank him for his patience as Langdon places his finger on your clit. "Need more."

"Just getting you warmed up," he promises, sliding his fingers down your wet slit, his middle one circling your hole before pushing in. You wriggle your hips, surprised when he pushes his arm over your lower stomach to stop your squirming. He looks up at Robby. "She's an eager one."

"She is," Robby chuckles, hand ghosting over your neck but not squeezing. He kisses your jaw, wet and dirty. "My good girl."

"Oh, so she just wants to be praised? Good to know."

"How do you think I got her in the first place?" Robby chuckles.

Something about the way they talk about you like you're not even there makes your cunt pulse around his fingers, heat rushing up your neck and cheeks. Frank adds a second finger, curling upward and thumbing your clit.

His fingers aren't as thick as Robby, and he doesn't yet have the blueprint to all the spots that make you come undone, but he's pretty fucking good.

You lean your head back on Robby's shoulder, allowing him to stick his tongue in your mouth, filthy and hot. You suck on his tongue, whining when he grabs your jaw.

"Is he making you feel good, baby?"

You nod, letting out a high pitched moan when he gives you a little slap on the cheek. He watches your pouty lips turn into an eager grin, giving you another.

"You know to use your words," he chides, and you nod.

"He's making me feel so good," you say, the words nearly catching in your throat when Frank wraps his mouth around your clit, sucking and pumping his fingers. "Fuck, just like that."

"Such a perfect little pussy, so responsive," Frank goads you on, voice husky and dripping with need. "You close, angel?"

"Yes," it comes out more pathetic than you had intended, hips wriggling against him as he laps at your dripping core. As the pleasure brings tears to your eyes, Robby sits behind you, kissing your cheek and giving you soothing shushes. "Please."

"Go ahead baby," Robby gives you permission, allowing you to let go of the ball of tension that sat in your stomach. You practically squeal, the pleasure from Langdon's fingers and mouth paired with the situation making your orgasm stronger than it's been in a while. "Good girl, cum all over his face. Show him how sweet you are."

"Shit," Langdon places one final kiss on your inner thigh, rubbing appreciatively as he stands up, cracking his neck. "That was amazing."

Robby shifts under you, and you feel his hard cock throb against your lower back. Pushing yourself up, you turn to face him, shivering when Frank runs his fingers along your dripping hole.

You mouth at Robby's clothed bulge, fingers tucking into his waistband as you pull them down slowly. His cock pops out, red and throbbing, a small drip of pre-cum on his slit.

"You want to fuck her?" Robby asks the younger man, and you can't see but your boyfriend's chuckle makes you think he nodded eagerly. "Condoms are in the nightstand."

You kitten lick Robby's cock, relishing in the way he grabs your hair. You know that move. It's a silent, more. Obeying, you open your mouth, taking him halfway down with a moan.

The sound of the condom wrapper opening causes your stomach to lurch, whimpering around Robby's impressive dick as Frank lines up at your entrance.

"Wait," you release Robby with a pop and turn around as the two men wait with baited breath. A devilish grin appears on your face. "I just wanna see it first. I've always wondered what your cock looks like."

"Fucking slut," Robby murmurs lovingly, watching as you crawl to the foot of the bed, taking Langdon in your hands. "Like what you see, baby?"

He's not as big as Robby-but not many are. Still, he's impressive. Long and curved a bit, neatly groomed. You cup his balls, rolling them softly in your hands.

"Don't tease," Frank warns lowly, and you give him an apologetic eye-flutter, releasing him from your hands. You turn back around, crawling back toward Robby and place a needy kiss on his mouth as Frank circles your hole.

"You're so pretty," Robby cups your jaw, tongue in your mouth after he speaks the words. You let out a whimper as Langdon slowly pushes in, spewing curses under his breath. "How's it feel, baby?"

"So good," you answer honestly, rocking back against Frank before dipping back down to bring Robby in your mouth. Your boyfriend reaches down to toy with your nipples, watching in awe as you get railed by your friend and co-worker.

"She feels fucking incredible," Langdon growls, hands on your hips as he finds a rhythm. "Squeezing me like a vice."

"Such a good girl," Robby praises you, letting out a little growl of his own as you take his cock deeper down your throat. "Do you like this? Being the center of attention?"

Mouth full of cock, all you can do is hum, looking up at him with desperate eyes. Frank's thrusts grow quicker, his own moans making you wetter.

"She loves it," Langdon says breathlessly. You throw your hips back toward him, whimpering as he toys with your clit. You can feel your second orgasm coming on, heavy in your stomach. It doesn't take much to get you there, spasming around his cock and releasing Robby from your mouth so you can properly whine his name.

Langdon follows close behind, spilling into the condom as you writhe around him. Robby grabs your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, checking for any signs of regret, but they're not there.

"Want you now," you practically whine, bringing Robby's thumb into your mouth. He nods, watching as you lay back and spread your legs for him. He crawls on top of you, lining up at your entrance but giving you no time to adjust. "Fuck, baby."

"You're greedy today, huh?" he asks, mouth on your neck. You turn your head to watch Frank, sitting on the edge of the bed with an amazed expression as Robby pounds into you. "Are you putting on a show for our guest? Or just always this desperate?"

"Always," your voice is pathetic, octaves above your own as your legs shake, Robby's chest pressing against yours. His gold chain hovers over you, moving with each rhythmic thrust.

He knows your body so well, each movement carefully crafted to push you over the edge. As he thumbs your clit, you happily take Frank's fingers in your mouth.

"My greedy girl, always needing her mouth full," Robby's voice is gentle, a contrast from the way his massive cock is spearing you.

"I'm gonna cum again."

"Go," he nods, gritting his teeth as you practically spasm around him, squirming and whining. You feel the gush of liquid around his cock, your vision going blurry and ears ringing. "Oh-ho-ho, I was waiting for that one. So fucking good for me, angel."

Frank's mouth is agape, in awe of the way you and Robby move together so seamlessly, his body playing yours flawlessly.

Robby cums soon after, painting your walls his release, movements slowing before sputtering to a halt. He pulls out, leaning forward to place sloppy kisses on your cheek and temple.

Nobody says anything for a moment, just staring at the ceiling and listening for breathing patterns to return to normal. It's Frank who breaks the silence, slipping his boxers back on.

"Wow," is the only word he can think of. You chuckle, reaching for Robby's hand and placing a kiss on the back of it.

"That was something else," you add, searching for your own underwear, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. Robby puts his own on too, the three of you sitting in the discomfort for a moment before you clear your throat. "Just how I imagined it."

"You imagined that before?" Langdon chuckles, a blush running up his cheeks. Now he's bashful, you think. When you nod, he grins. "Me too."

Robby's silence makes you nervous, anxiety racing through your head. Did he regret bringing Frank in? Were you too into him? But as if he's reading your mind, he kisses your shoulder.

"Not quite what you were expecting when you came by, huh brother?" Robby laughs, a slight wheeze in his exhale.

"Definitely not," the younger man admits. "But thanks."

Another silence. You've had your fair share of threesomes in college, but the lingering tension at the end was something you still haven't mastered. You can feel Frank's eyes on you, and wonder if he's feeling the same awkwardness.

"We didn't really get to eat our dinner," you finally say, rubbing your hand along Robby's bare back. "Should we order a pizza and watch a movie?"

"Sure, honey. Whatever you want," your boyfriend nods. Langdon begins putting his clothes on, and you gesture toward him. Robby gets it. "Frank, do you want to join us?"

He thinks about it for a moment, before nodding. You lean into Robby, whispering in his ear and giggling at the way he responds to your words.

"She said maybe after the movie you can finally experience her mouth," Robby tells him, earning raised eyebrows and a toothy grin.

"I should stop by unannounced more often."

[aliceintvland]

GODDDDDDDDDDDD PLWEASE

some escape from my sin

MICHAEL ‘ROBBY’ ROBINAVITCH x F!READER

Summary: PittFest broke Robby. The only way he knows how to cope is by breaking you.

Warning: f!reader, resident!reader, takes place directly after the shift from hell, age gap, power imbalance, angst, hurt/comfort, rough sex, overstimulation, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, pet names (angel, good girl, babydoll), reader only calls him ‘Dr. Robby’, technically coercion, crying during and after sex, robby isn’t bad but he is broken </3

wc: 3.7k

A/N: angst but make it sexy. (I’ve been in my feelings sry) dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/cursed-carmine

Robby’s had a lot of shitty shifts in his time as a practicing MD. Too many to count. 

He never could’ve imagined that anything would even begin to compare to what he and every other healthcare worker went through during the pandemic, but the MCI really and truly broke something inside of him. 

He felt it when Whitaker found him on the floor of the makeshift morgue, and he feels it now as he sits in the park with a beer in his hand, borderline hysterical laughter bubbling up from his chest. 

It’s fucking ridiculous. All of it. The world at large, Jesus Christ, why did he ever think he could handle this? Why did he think he’d be able to move on after Adamson—that he could be even half the doctor his mentor had been? 

After finishing his beer, Robby stands and waves to everyone else, the other survivors of that hellish shift, then turns and fits his AirPods into his ears. The song playing when he’d first walked into work 15 fucking hours ago picks up where it left off, and Robby has to snort. His playlist may be able to move forward like nothing happened, but there’s no way he’ll be able to. 

Yeah, this one’s gonna fuck him up. 

He makes his way toward his house, exhausted and wired at the same time. His stomach grumbles, and Robby knows he should be starving, but he has no desire to eat. Anything he manages to choke down will just come right back up, he’s sure of it. 

As he approaches the bus stop he passes every day, Robby catches sight of a familiar jacket, familiar braids, familiar antsy tapping that followed him for much of the shift. 

You turn at the sound of his footsteps, eyebrows shooting up when you see him. “Dr. Robby!” like it’s been a year since you last saw him rather than an hour. 

Robby forces a tired but cordial smile as he nears, no teeth, no shine, really an acknowledgment more than anything. 

Fuck, he’s beat. All he wants to do is collapse into bed and not leave for… ever. 

He knows himself, though, knows he likely won’t get a wink of sleep tonight. His brain will keep him up, whirring with all the what if’s, all the mistakes, all the people he couldn’t save. 

And still, you stare at him as if he saved every last one of them. It’s the same way you’ve been staring at him all day, eyes wide with misplaced admiration, though now there’s a shadow of sympathy. 

“I was hoping to see you before I left the hospital, but…” you trail off, shake your head, pick back up, “doesn’t matter ‘cause here you are."

“Here I am,” he replies like he wishes he wasn’t. “Did you need something, or—”

“No, no, nothing like,” you shake your head, and Robby doesn’t miss the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your corduroy backpack. 

“I just, um…” you swallow and rock on your feet, hands sliding into your jacket pockets. 

Robby takes another few steps forward, ducks his head a little to be able to look you in the eye as he pushes, “you…?” then straightens back up when he realizes that you can see his eyes too—bloodshot and puffy and still red-rimmed from earlier. 

Tossing your head to the side, you scrunch your face up when you suddenly ask, “are you okay?”

Robby blinks at you. 

It’s probably the 50th time he’s been asked this today, and he’s just about fucking had it, but… you look so fucking sincere, it kills him a little. 

He’s known you for less than 24 hours, but Christ, were those hours long. You spent the majority of them right at his heels, following and helping where you could then working independently where you had to. Honestly, if Robby had to have had a resident shadow him so closely, he’s glad it was you. You’d watched his every move and ended up putting most of them into practice yourself. If Robby said jump, you asked “how high?” then hurdled over every bar he set. 

Adept and in-tune, and not just with your patients, it seems, because you’re looking at him the way you looked at all of them, real concern playing over your features, wrinkling your forehead and tightening your mouth, and for the first time all day, Robby feels like telling the truth. 

Grinning in dark disbelief, Robby gazes at the night sky for a few seconds before letting his head drop forward again. 

Are you okay? 

“Not even a little,” he laughs. 

Your returning smile is unsure, but you nod, mumble, “today was pretty fucked up.”

“It really was.” 

Some of that worry melts away, right to the back of your throat as you swallow it down. 

“If it’s any consolation, I learned a lot.”

“Yeah, about how you should reconsider your fucking career choice.”

“No,” you shake your head, “no, more about how to handle the tough cases. How to toe the line between…hope and reality, I guess."

Something in his chest starts to ache and the space behind his eyes begins to burn again and Robby is suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude toward you and white hot fury toward everything else. 

Tucking his chin to his chest, Robby squeezes his eyes shut, mutters quietly, “fucking hell,” then redirects, “you headin’ home?”

He watches your shoulders rise with a heavy sigh, apparently already aware that prying won’t help. 

“Yeah, just waiting for the bus,” you answer absentmindedly, “unless you need me for something else.”

Something else. 

~

This might be the most fucked up thing he’s ever done, and that’s including showing that father the pedi morgue a few hours ago. 

That, Robby can blame on anger and stress. 

This, though, this is just irrational, and he knows it. It’s like a panic response that he's fully aware he’s having but isn’t trying to fight. He doesn’t give a fuck about grounding exercises or breathing techniques or any of that shit. He just wants some semblance of fucking control. 

After the way you’d followed him around all goddamn day, at his beck and call and wide-eyed with awe, Robby knows that he can control this. He can control you. 

And, he does, his hands curling around the back of your head to manipulate you however he needs, tilting you in ways that are comfortable for him while probably putting a strain on your tendons. 

Mouths molded against one another, Robby presses too hard and bites too mean, and when your pained groan vibrates against his lips, all he does is sink his teeth a little deeper into already kiss-swollen flesh. 

Without any lights on in the house, it’s nearly pitch black. He’s stumbled to his couch too many times to count, though, has no problem guiding you to it in a series of clumsy steps. 

Robby tears his jacket off and drops it to the floor followed by both of his shirts. He doesn’t bother with his pants, far more interested in his brand new resident as you strip down to your underwear. 

He’s drunk with fatigue and sorrow, and now, with a heavy pour of lust pooling in his stomach, he’s close to blacking out entirely, one step away from delirium.

When you’d introduced yourself 16 hours ago, Robby never would’ve thought you’d end up underneath him. He’d looked at you just long enough to think, cute, then shrugged it away to make room for every fucking responsibility he had to shoulder throughout the day. 

A day that was spent with the parents of a braindead son, with adult children coming to terms with the fact that their father was dying. He spent the day watching Heather and screaming at Langdon. Spent the day trying his fucking hardest to save a single girl, and when he couldn’t, he ended up on the floor of the makeshift morgue. 

You were there for most of it, which is strange and unfamiliar because he hasn’t had a resident shadow him in years. 

But, every other student seemed to latch onto someone, leaving you a little lost until Robby decided, what the hell, and nodded you over to his side. Maybe teaching would distract him from the date on the calendar. 

And, it wasn’t terrible. The day as a whole was, but you weren’t. Once you’d gotten the confidence boost you needed, you were able to fall into step beside him. You made yourself scarce when he needed you to, and the only questions you asked were about medicine, about the things you didn’t know that you hoped he could teach you. 

For all 15 hours you’d worked together, you were just there, ready and willing to take whatever Robby wanted you to. 

Just like you are now.

Clutching onto him like a lifeline, you writhe for him, every breath punched out of you when he kisses too rough, sucks too hard, bites too deep. You're gonna be marked to hell and back, Robby's internal bruises displayed all over your skin. 

His back to the armrest, he's got you on top of him, supported by his thighs as you grind against his hard cock. The only barrier between the two of you now is the material of his boxer-briefs, damp with your arousal as Robby ruts up into you. 

"Knew you'd be good," he grunts out, urging you to lift your hips enough for him to be able to snake a hand beneath you, thrust a finger inside of your quivering hole a few times before adding a second. "Did everything I fuckin' asked you to, perfect little resident."

You moan around your bottom lip, thighs shaking as you start to ride his fingers. 

"Just—hn—I just w-wanted to help you…" you whimper, sounding so painfully sincere that Robby is reminded once again how wrong he is for doing this. 

He curls his fingers inward, massages your soft walls for a few seconds before finding the spot that makes you cry out, pulls you by the neck so that he can drink down every whine that tumbles from your lips as he does his absolute best to tear you apart. 

"Helped me so much—you were so smart n' sweet all day. You gonna keep being sweet for me?"

You nod as best you can as he sucks on your lower lip, shaking on top of him with his fingers moving inside of you. 

"Hm? You're gonna what?" he teases because all he really knows right now is how to fuck and how to be an asshole. "Remember to close the loop."

You keen, take in a deep breath, then repeat, "'m'gonna be s-sweet for you, Dr. Robby," and Christ, he can feel himself leaking through his boxers. 

Heartrate picking up and vision fogging over, Robby swears at the sensation of your little pussy clenching tight around his fingers, so hungry and greedy.

"You gonna cum for me, angel?"

Again, you only nod at first, but you show how smart you are for the nth time today, quickly stutter, "gonna—mmfuck, gonna cum for you, wanna cum for you—"

And, you do, nails digging into his shoulders, cunt spasming and dripping messily, tears springing up in your rolling eyes. 

Fuck, you're stunning, ambitious, dedicated little doctor. So good, so desperate to help, to lend Robby a helping hand during the day then lend him your body at night—he wants to ruin you. Wants to bathe in those bright, hopeful eyes until he remembers what it was like to have that spark of light himself. 

He could just take it from you, stomp out any of that optimism, show you that your faith in him is useless. He's not good—not a good doctor, not a good man, and he wants to prove that to you, live up to the self-fulfilling prophecy he's been trying to deny for the last five years. 

The only reason Robby gives you a break is so that he can free his cock, sticky with precum, hot and pulsing in his hand as he lines himself up. 

He should offer a condom. Lube. A chance to get acclimated to his size. 

But, Robby is impatient and in the middle of a goddamn crisis, so all he does is warn you, "deep breath in," like he's about to pop your shoulder back into place. 

He doesn't push in all at once, but he doesn't go particularly slow, and that inhale you just took is forced right back out of you as you whine at the way his cock stretches you. If the lights were on, Robby would have a better view of your pussy spreading open for him, making room for his thickness and creaming all over it. 

"That's a good girl," he groans, voice strangled and wet from the saliva that's pooled in his mouth, and fuck, you feel so good, so good.

You're already sensitive from your last orgasm, and knowing that makes Robby's head spin when he starts fucking you, making you squeal for him. 

"Oh—o-oh god, it's—s'too much, nng—"

He doesn't see or feel you trying to stop him, though, just let your jaw drop, hips rolling automatically as tears start to stream down your face. 

"Am I hurting you, babydoll?" 

Truthfully, that’s what you are right now. Young, beautiful resident, letting her senior attending use her how he wants. You bounce and moan and whisper, "n-no, Dr. Robby, doesn't hurt," with fluttering eyelids and twitching fingers. 

Pretty little baby. Pretty little doll. 

And, you feel so perfect, your sopping cunt sucking him deep, squelching and clinging to every inch he gives you then takes away. 

His fingertips are bruising your hips, nails digging crescent moons into supple flesh. He wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucks and sucks and sucks until you start to shy away, and then he sucks a little more before moving to the next. 

He wants you raw and exposed, wants you shivering, wants you unable to fucking look at him whenever you work again. 

Because you will work, will see each other after this. Maybe you'll go to HR, say Robby coerced you into this, and he wouldn't fight it. It's not incorrect. There's a clear imbalance here, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't getting off on it. 

He really could do whatever he wanted. With your drive and your obvious need to please, you'd probably let him get away with just about anything. 

Robby has complete fucking control of you, and that idea is so satisfying and soothing and terrible, it lights him up from the inside. 

Wrapping a hand around your throat, Robby brings you close to him again, his other hand working between your splayed legs so he can swipe his fingers over your slick and swelling clit. 

"Such a sweet girl," he growls, thrusting deep, fast, and rough, stirring your insides, basking in the lewd noises and neverending stream of slick that leaks out around his cock— "who knew you could be so fucking messy?"

Even in the poor lighting you must be able to see something dangerous in his face—the dark glint in his eyes or maybe the way he's bearing his teeth. Whatever it is, it makes you sniffle, like you know he's gonna hurt you. 

"Is it 'cause I'm making you feel good?" Robby baits, "you like the way my cock stretches your little pussy?"

"Yes," you sob, "yes, yes, feels so good."

"Fuck—gonna fill you up so good, baby, you ready?"

He's not giving you the choice, further proving his point that he is a bad man. So, so bad. 

But, you are so, so good, so you nod and beg, "please, Dr. Robby—please, please, want you to… wanna feel… oh, god—oh, fuck—"

"You cumming again?" he grins for the first time in hours, feeling like he's finally doing something right despite how wrong it is. "Yeah, you are, good girl, gonna—goddamn—gonna milk it out of me clenching like that…"

You're wailing at this point, cunt pulsing and stuffed so full as Robby ruts up into you. He's relentless, chasing his building orgasm as you shatter on top of him, shaking like a leaf and trying to suck in the air that just won't make it all the way to your lungs. 

Teardrops are hitting his chest, and you're wincing with every thrust, but you're still not stopping him. Even as he bites into your throat, even as he claws down your ribs with blunted nails, even as he fucks his cockhead right up against your cervix, you don't fucking stop him. 

Robby cums with a wounded moan, hips stuttering as he pins you tight against him. He makes sure to spill into your deepest parts, saturating every bit of you until his thick seed slowly begins to seep out of your abused hole. 

You lean against his legs, still bent at the knee, and Robby watches through half-lidded eyes the way your chest expands and contracts with every uneven breath you take. 

He lets you rest for a couple minutes, both of you silent as the gravity of the situation sinks in, the oppressive weight of everything that's happened. 

From the first death of the day all the way to now. 

Jesus Christ, this is fucked up. This is all so fucked up. Robby feels himself start to crack right down the middle, his throat getting tight, hands beginning to shake against your waist, and oh fuck, oh fuck, what is happeni—

"Hey," your voice pierces through his racing thoughts, your eyes level and unwavering when they meet his, and Robby doesn't know how—can't even begin to make sense of it—but you manage to say exactly what he needs to hear: "I'm okay."

The first time he's heard it said clearly and honestly all fucking day.

He spent 15 hours talking to and treating and losing people who were not okay, so finally hearing someone, hearing you, tell him that you are…

Robby's chest caves in, and he quickly shoves his palms to his eyes, tries to breathe through his teeth while you anchor him with a steady mantra of, "I'm okay. I'm okay. I've got you. I promise."

I've got you. I promise. 

You don't move aside from smoothing a hand over his chest, a gentle grounding scratch through the hair over his sternum. It's slow, it's soothing, and it's the perfect rate of respiration. 

His cock—Robby's literal cock—has gone soft inside of you, and the ridiculousness of it all is not lost on him. You both just had possibly the most traumatic day of your lives, then proceeded to try to fuck it out of your systems only for Robby, the seasoned attending, to lose his shit. Or, start to, anyway.

"Fuck," he whispers, finally dropping his hands and blinking sandpaper eyes at you. "Sorry."

Your returning smile is soft, sympathetic, tired. "Don't be. I just hope I didn't make it worse."

Robby lets out an incredulous laugh. Scared of making it worse. No. He is absolutely a worse human now than he was this morning, but that's not your fault. Not even a little. 

"All you did today," he starts, pushing up and bracing himself on an arm to be closer to you, "was make things bearable for me. You didn't do anything fucking wrong."

You hang your head, either bashful or ashamed, Robby doesn't know, but he makes you meet his gaze again when he pushes hair out of your face. 

"Everything you did helped me. And, if you wanna report me for this—" he makes a nebulous gesture between the two of you, "I won't blame you. Fuck, you probably should—"

"I'm not going to. I don't feel like you took advantage of me or anything."

Robby gives you a pitying look, head tilted, mouth pulled into a sad sort of smile, "oh, but I did. I absolutely fucking did."

He's not gonna forgive himself for this one for a long time. 

You stare at him as if letting his admission wash over you, accepting the night for what it is, but in the end you just sigh and tell him, "then, make it up to me." 

Robby lifts an eyebrow in question, doesn't shy away when you run a hand through his messy hair. 

"Help me shower, then let me sleep with you," and like you're afraid he's going to argue, you explain in a much less assured tone, "I don't… I'm not ready to be alone yet."

He nods. Absolutely. Yes, he can do that. He can definitely do that for you. 

And, he does. Robby helps you to his shower, helps get rid of the grime and the tragedy and his cum, and when you both feel a little cleaner—because there's no such thing purity in emergency medicine—Robby finds you some clothes then goes through the motions of pouring and microwaving chicken noodle soup. Eating it isn't easy for either of you, but it's necessary (especially after that workout).

Bowls in the sink, stomachs no longer empty, Robby leads you to his bedroom. He turns the TV on at a low volume, knows that he won't be able to fall asleep to utter silence and thinks you might be the same way, then pulls you tight against him. 

It doesn't take long for you to start crying. It's quiet but impossible to miss as your shoulders tense and your tears stream down your cheeks and onto his chest. 

Robby doesn't say anything, just rests his cheek against your head and gently strokes up and down your arm. 

I've got you, he thinks, the same words you'd said to him earlier. 

I've got you. I promise.

[aliceintvland]

In Circles Somewhere Else -- ch 6

18+ NSFW; smut, fingering, degradation if you squint, DIRTY TALK GALORE, a little angst. asshole!robby in flashback hehe sorry but we stan our damaged, imperfect king

Your conversation with Shen's ectopic patient went as expected. A lot of tears from her and her husband, shaky words from you, and Robby lingering outside the door to make sure you're okay.

He poked his head under the guise of introducing himself during shift change, but you know the man well enough to know what he was doing.

When you step out, he's all but waiting for you, looking at you with those big brown eyes you fell in love with so many years ago.

"Break room?" he asks, and you tilt your head at him, a soft smile on your lips.

"I'm fine," you insist.

"Come on," he lowers himself to meet your eye line. "Just for a minute."

"Fine," you nod.

It's not even for you. The trauma, pain and grief you still carry are fairly well managed thanks to extensive therapy. You dove into graduate school, focusing on helping others as opposed to wallowing in the pain. You and Robby are similar in that regard.

He walks with you, pace steady as he opens the door for you, pointing to the couch.

"Coffee?"

"We've been here an hour, you madman," you chuckle, and he shrugs as he pours himself another cup. Robby sits down next to you, hand on your knee for a brief moment before pulling back. "I'm okay, you know."

"I know that," he nods. "You always are. But as the only other person who went through that with you, I wanted to check in."

As you look at his sad face, you can't help but remember the loneliness you felt toward the end of your relationship. He retreated in his pain--from Adamson, the trauma of COVID, and losing the baby.

It's difficult not to make a snide remark. Oh, now you're checking in?

But you nod appreciatively, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb along his beard. Softer than you remember it.

"And you? I'm sure you treat that sort of stuff all the time," you say, pulling your hand back when a sadness crept back into his eyes.

"Oh you know me, I bury that shit down."

"Yeah," you nod, twisting your lips. "That's your specialty."

"But I'm in therapy," he confesses. Your gaze meets his, shocked by this revelation. The very suggestion used to always start a fight.

"I'm proud of you, Michael."

"Thanks," he says. The vulnerability hangs in the hair for a moment, and Robby shifts uncomfortably. "How's Oliver doing?"

"Good," you smile. "He's getting discharged tomorrow."

"So why don't you stay again tonight?" Robby asks, perhaps too eagerly.

If you were smart, you'd say no. You'd ask your sister's husband to meet you halfway with your house keys, or call your landlord for a spare. But instead you nod, shivering when he reaches for your hand, clasping it between both of his.

"I'm proud of you," he says, and the words catch you off guard. Nodding, you flash the faintest smile as he stands. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

There's a hint of question in his voice, as if he's afraid you're going to disappear again.

"Yeah," you nod, watching as he leaves.

It's hard not to wonder if his therapy could turn him back into the man you fell in love with. Or at least allow him to be better. It was all you had wanted from him initially.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUGUST 2022

"That new Italian place downtown?"

"I'm not that hungry."

"Well what about the modern art museum?" you ask, on your fourth suggestion of the past 20 minutes, desperately trying to convince Robby to spend his day off doing something fun.

You sit next to him on the couch, legs thrown over his lap, rubbing his hair as he reads intently.

"If that's what you really want," he finally caves, looking up from his book with zero emotion. When you scoff, he tosses it aside. "Jesus, what's with the attitude?"

"If I want?" you ask, swinging your legs off of him and sitting up straight. "How about YOU want to spend time with your fiancée?"

"We're spending time together right now, aren't we?"

"Not really," you sigh. "You're reading and I'm on my phone. Not exactly romantic."

You want him to snap out of it. To stand up, declare he'll try, and bring you somewhere to ease your mind. To ask about YOUR pain, rather than focusing on his.

Instead, he distracts, leaning in toward you and cupping your face. His kiss is hungry, desperate to pull you in. You let him push his tongue in your mouth, licking along your soft palette as his hand moves down to gently grab your jaw.

"How's this for romantic?" he asks, although his rough touch is anything but.

Still, you allow yourself to melt, squirming onto his lap to straddle him as he tugs down your flimsy shorts. This dance has become routine-you try to talk, he thinks he can fuck you so hard you forget. You're fully aware of it, but can't seem to break the cycle.

"For someone in a grumpy mood you sure are fucking soaked," he nips at your ear, fingers sliding beneath your underwear. "I guess you just can't resist me, huh?"

"Please," you whisper. It's the only truthful thing you can say. "Need you in me."

"Need what in you, baby?" he taunts you a bit, circling your clit and grinning at the way you turn into putty in his hands. "Use your words for me. I know you can do it."

"Your fingers," you sputter out, grinding against his wrist as his fingers dance around your hole. He pushes in slowly, starting with just one but adding another. "Yes, thank you."

"Such good manners," he teases, curling his digits against your walls. His mouth is on your neck, nipping and sucking before pulling your lips to his in a filthy kiss. "You think you can take another baby? I think you're tense. Need to be stretched out a little extra today."

You hum, so lost in the way he's making you feel that his disinterest no longer bothers you. Because right now, you're the center of his universe.

He adds another finger, grinning against your mouth at the way you let out a squeak. Your hips are bucking, and you can feel his cock throbbing under your thigh.

"Feels good, honey?" he asks, chuckling darkly at the incoherent babble you let out in response. His thumb toys with your clit, sending you over the edge, pulsing around his fingers. "You're gonna give me one more, yeah?"

"Please," you mewl, allowing him to push your panties to the side and line up. You sink down onto him, in awe of the way his eyes squeeze shut and mouth falls open, head tilting to rest on the back of the couch. You kiss his neck, whining against the skin.

"So good for me," his grip on your hips doesn't falter, guiding you as you bounce on his cock. "You're my good little girl, huh? This is all we need, baby. Right here. You and me."

You can't even process the disappointment of his words, your head so full of euphoria as he bucks up into your sensitive cunt. With one swift motion, he flips you over so you're on your back, his hand resting atop your head to push the hair out of your face.

His thrusts are unforgiving, sloppy even. The goal is to make you forget why you're upset. And for a moment, it works. All you care about is his cock and his mouth and the way he's making you feel physically.

"You're close," he says, and for a second you hate that he knows your body so well. The way you're pulsing around him, the hazy look in your eyes, bead of sweat dripping down your temple. "Open."

You obey, allowing him to spit in your mouth, swallowing greedily. He grunts, muttering how good you are for him, burying his head in your shoulder.

Your second orgasm washes over you more powerfully, and you can't tell if the tears forming in your eyes are from the overwhelming pleasure or the feeling your relationship is over.

Robby is oblivious to your anguish, rutting his hips and growling your name as he releases inside of you, hot cum filling you up. He collapses on you, kissing your neck gingerly.

"I love you a lot," is all he says, and you repeat the sentiment. It's true. You love him-that's why he's hurting you.

He pulls out of you, slowly pulling your underwear up and kissing up your body until he meets your mouth in a tender kiss. You savor the post-coital glow for a moment, heavy breathing and loving touches.

Robby pulls his boxers back up, sitting back up and pulling you into his lap. You lean against his chest, warm and firm.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention to you," he says finally, and you furrow your brows. He's making you feel crazy: like your discontent was only about him reading a book this afternoon. "I hope that made up for it."

"It was great, but it didn't," you say bluntly, readjusting to face him. He looks surprised by your words, calculating what to say next. "You keep trying to distract me with sex, Michael. And one of these days it's not going to work anymore."

"I don't know what you want from me," he says, tension evident in his face. For a brilliant man, he can be really fucking dense sometimes. "I work all fucking week in a thankless job. Sorry if I don't want to goddamn galavant around town with you on my day off."

"I'm not as high maintenance as you try to make me out to be," you argue. "All I'm asking for is effort. You're a shell of yourself lately, and it's fucking draining."

He stands, shaking his head and entering the kitchen, digging through the fridge. You follow him, watching with judgement as he cracks a beer, taking a sip.

"Oh great," you chide, well aware that you're escalating things. But grinning and bearing it wasn't feasible anymore. "Always a good sign when you can't talk to your fucking fiancée without a goddamn beer."

"It's my day off," he justifies, placing the bottle on the counter with a force that makes you jump a little. He twitches at your response. "Jesus Christ, you and the dramatics."

"I hate you sometimes," you say, only half-truth to the word. You love him more than anything. Which is why it's so easy to hate him. "I love you so fucking much, and all you do is hurt me. It's like I'm an afterthought. Or worse, a box you have to check. I'm done with it, Michael. We're supposed to be a team."

You watch as he processes your words, jaw twitching. He's clearly holding back, biting his tongue as he wrestles with whether or not to try to join your verbal jousting match.

"However much you hate me," he takes another sip. "I guarantee you I hate myself a lot fucking more."

The instinct to hold him creeps in, your love for the broken man in front of you overpowering everything. You step toward him with the care of someone approaching an injured animal, wrapping your arms around his waist. You're surprised when he melts against your touch, placing a delicate kiss on the crown of your head.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles into your hair, rubbing your back. "I know things have been rough. I'll work on it."

"You know, I've found therapy to be really helpful."

"Oh, here we go," he replies indignantly, pulling back from your touch. You hate the way he's immediately writing you off, defenses back up. "Enough. I said no."

"Is it too much to ask for you to put in the effort?" you carry on, anger rushing back over you like a vicious wave. "Seriously, you swallow all of this shit down and think you're fine but I can tell you that you're fucking NOT. And it's dragging me, and everyone else in your life down."

"You're too focused on me," he shakes his head, trying to keep his cool. "You spend all day worrying about me. If I ate enough, if I'm sleeping enough, if maybe I'm sad, what time I come home. It's driving me nuts. I feel like I'm in a fucking lab."

"Do you think I do that for fun?" you ask, tears threatening to spill. "That it's some hobby of mine? No. I do it because I love you, asshole. And I think you need help."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"It's not shameful, you know. There are so many men in therapy."

"So go fucking find one!" he snaps, fully yelling at this point. "Jesus Christ. Maybe they'll let you nag them into submission."

You freeze, tears brimming your eyes as he leans forward, taking a deep breath, running his hands over his face.

"I don't even know you anymore," you say the phrase that's nothing new to him. He rolls his eyes, throwing his head back with a groan. "Who is this man standing in front of me? Because he's sure as hell not the guy I fell in love with."

You can tell the words hurt him, a twinge of guilt zapping your chest. But he just nods, looking down at the floor.

"I will go to the fucking art museum if that's what you want."

"Well now it's not," you respond, arms crossed like a petulant child. But you can't bring yourself to care, having spent months dealing with this darkness. "What I want is to be with someone who's excited about me."

"I don't have it in me to be excited about much of anything these days," he admits, reaching across the counter for your hand. You give it to him, hesitantly at first before squeezing it in yours. "I'm sorry. Hey, look at me. I'm really sorry."

"If I didn't love you so much, I wouldn't care," you whisper, allowing him to wipe your tears with his thumb. Robby nods.

"I'll work on my shit," he says. "I'll do it for you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PRESENT DAY

"That was the shift from hell," Mohan flops down next to you on the break room couch, letting her hair down. You hum, not able to fully appreciate the chaotic scenes doctors deal with every day.

"I could use a drink," Mateo quips, and Princess nods vigorously. "Who's down for park beers?"

"Say less," Santos enters the room, Robby trailing behind her. She stops when she sees almost everyone already in the room. "Did I miss a meeting or something?"

"Yeah we decided to vote you off the island," Langdon sits on the other side of you, his comment only half in jest. Santos scrunches her nose, and you make a mental note to ask Robby about that tension later.

"What the hell is park beers?" you ask, nodding when Princess explains the tradition.

"Why don't we go to a bar instead?" Samira suggests, and you second the motion.

"I'm goin' home," Dana snorts. "But you kids have fun."

"Flanagan's?" Jesse suggests, and you all agree.

You meet Robby's gaze from across the room, raising your eyebrows. He shrugs, rubbing his hand over the side of his face, trying to mask his exhaustion.

If you're being honest with yourself, a buffer might be nice. The thought of going home with Robby, the eve before a day off, is making you anxious.

Not because you're uncomfortable around him. No, he's the person in the world you're most comfortable with--even now.

It's because you're worried you'll do something you'll regret. Whether it's a tender kiss or him fucking you into the mattress, you can feel your defenses going down. The familiar feeling creeping in. The one that hurt you so badly the first time around.

So when you're all settled on the patio of a bar not even 20 minutes later, you're relieved. Robby gets up to get another round, and Collins excuses herself to go to the bathroom.

"Somebody time them," Princess jokes, met with a gentle elbow from Langdon, his piercing eyes turning to you.

"What does that mean?" you ask Samira lowly, sipping your beer. You had heard rumors, from a friend who knew a night shift nurse. But nothing solid.

"Oh," she bristles a bit, looking to Langdon for back up. "I don't know, actually."

"Wait are they fucking again?" Santos jumps in, and there's a collective tension at the table. "You think here? Robby doesn't have that in him."

Ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach, you suppress a chuckle, fighting every urge to tell her that he does in fact, have it in him. That she's talking about the same man who once fingered you to tears in a bathroom stall at an Eagles concert. Or who shoved his cock down your throat in a dressing room after you dragged him bikini shopping.

But you keep quiet, so many questions suddenly.

When you and Robby were together, you knew about Collins from his work stories. You had even met on multiple occasions, always getting along. Since you had arrived at PTMC, she'd been a bit more distant--you figured it was the day-to-day stress of the job.

"It was obviously after you guys broke up," McKay offers, leaning in close so the rest of the table can't hear. Samira also leans in.

You want to ask how soon after. And if she made him happy. If he treated her better than he treated you at the end. But you just nod, inhaling sharply.

"And Collins was the only somewhat serious one. The others were just flings. Rebounds, probably," Samira says.

"Others?"

"I know there was a bartender," Cassie offers. "And a nurse from Presby. Might have been more, but I don't think so."

As if on cue, Collins returns, and for some reason you find yourself examining her face for any signs they were onto something. Samira catches you, shaking her head.

"What did I miss?" the doctor asks gleefully.

"Where are our drinks?" Mateo asks with a cheeky grin.

"Robby's still at the bar," Heather shrugs. "Guess it's social hour."

"I'll be right back," you say with a fake smile, heading toward the restroom, beyond the point of caring how obvious you are.

You see Robby at the bar, laughing with the bartender, a beautiful woman slightly older than you. The base part of your brain instantly wonders if she's the one Cassie was referring to.

You hate the way you still feel possessive over him, despite being the one who left.

"Hi, handsome" you walk over, the two beers you had on an empty stomach clearly catching up to you. You place a hand on his back, rubbing large circles as he watches you curiously. "Need a hand?"

"You alright?" he asks skeptically, a smirk on his face at your sudden affection.

"Fine, why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm not sure," he answers slowly, almost as if he's trying to solve a riddle. Robby looks down at you, back at the woman behind the bar, wearing a name tag that says Stephanie, putting the pieces together.

He can't help but let out an amused chuckle, shaking his head.

"I'll take 8 of the same please and then you can close out," he says to Stephanie, handing her his credit card. "No rush. I'll be right back."

Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you aside into the dimly lit corner of the bar, still fighting a grin. Classic rock crackles through the speaker above.

"You're jealous," he says it matter-of-factly, smirking at your indignant scoff. "Oh, please. I know you, remember? The whole handsome bullshit is you being jealous."

"I do think you're handsome," you defend, jaw clenching. "You know that."

"Jea-ah-el-lous," he repeats, as if it's a game. Robby chuckles, watching the way your furrowed brow softens.

"I don't want to be," you admit, voice barely above a whisper, cloaked in shame.

"Did someone say something to you?" he asks, glancing out toward the patio where your co-workers sit. "About Stephanie?"

"So it is her?" you ask, trying to ignore the way your breath catches. She's beautiful, with tanned skin and perky boobs, lips big but natural looking. She's a little older -- probably has more wild stories and less night terrors.

"We went out a few times, yeah," he shifts.

"How fun for you," you know your tone probably betrays your true feelings, but you're too confused to care. "She looks nice."

You try not to picture his tongue down her throat, fingers deep in her on the couch you once shared. Robby clocks you glancing over at her again.

"I don't mean to keep bringing it up, but you're the one who left me. What did you want me to do? Be alone for the rest of my life? Wallow in your absence?"

There's more vitriol behind his words than you expected, causing you to physically cringe.

"Obviously not," you concede. "I just...I don't know. Never mind."

"I don't know what you want from me," he confesses, softening a bit. And to be honest, you're not quite sure either.

"Are you still seeing her?" your voice is nearly pathetic.

"No."

Your line of questioning should've ended there. But your brain feels disconnected from your mouth as you cross your arms, continuing down the path.

"Are you still seeing Heather?"

His spine straightens at the question, nostrils flaring a bit as he looks at you, shaking his head.

"No," he's steadfast in his answer. "I'm not."

"Oh," you say, not sure how else to fill the air. "It always seemed to me like you two got along. So I wasn't sure."

"I want you to know that she wasn't even on my radar until after you left," he says, both hands landing on your arms, as if to reiterate. You nod, choosing to believe him. "But no. We didn't work out either."

"Why not?"

You can't believe you're having this conversation, the one you had hoped to never have, in a dive bar less than 30 feet from not one but two of Robby's exes.

"In case you didn't realize, I'm kind of hard to love."

You feel your heart sink, sitting heavy in your chest as your instincts take over, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him into a hug. Robby tenses at first before melting into your touch, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"Michael, loving you was the easy part," you whisper, pulling back to look into his eyes.

The way he looks at you, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, nearly makes you melt. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your face, the familiar scent of beer and nicotine gum.

You could kiss him, you think. You could kiss him and the years of pain and heartbreak and grief could wash away. You could be happy again.

But something stops you.

"I didn't deserve you," he whispers, and you shake your head, cupping his cheek, no longer caring who sees. "I'm sorry. I really am. I tried."

"I know you did," you nod, not even sure how true it is.

Is this where you want to hash this out? 3 years of silence and 4 years of love, culminating in a hushed conversation beneath shitty dive bar lights?

He must see it in your eyes. The way they keep darting toward your friends, acutely aware of Samira and Langdon looking over at you.

"Can we go ho-" he stops himself, rubbing his beard. "Back to mine?"

You nod, hating the way you're still so in sync. As if on cue, Samira walks over, approaching you under the guise of looking for the bathroom.

"Same spot as the other 20 times you've been here," Robby grits his teeth a bit. It's clear he doesn't like being the center of speculation. You elbow him a bit, throwing your arm around your friend.

"Fine, I admit," she shrugs. "I wanted to come see if you guys were coming back. So sue me."

"I think we might go," you confess, sucking in through your teeth and waiting for a protest that never comes. She just nods, glancing back and forth between the two of you. "Michael, go give everyone the drinks you promised."

He takes the hint, but not without a grumble, leaving you and Samira. Cassie walks over as if she was summoned, leaning in.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing," you say honestly. It IS nothing. Just two adults about to have an overdue conversation. "I think we're both just tired."

"Well sure," she shrugs, clearly not believing you. "But also..."

"Also what?" you ask, genuinely not understanding.

"Well anyone with eyes can tell you two are still in love with each other," Samira speaks for her. You feel the heat creeping over your cheeks, swallowing hard. "Like, sickeningly."

"I don't know if I'd say that," you try to counter it, but her admission makes your throat burn. "We have a lot of shit to work through."

"He'll be inside of you by the end of the night," McKay says bluntly, laughing at your shocked reaction. "What? I'm serious."

Samira looks at the redhead, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes before turning back to you with a serious look.

"He changed a lot when you left," she says. "And I know he changed before too. But it got worse. And now you're back, and he feels weirdly lighter?"

"He didn't even want me here until like two days ago," you remind her.

"Not true," McKay jumps in. "The day you arrived, I heard him telling Abbott that seeing you was like remembering how to breathe."

You freeze.

"He said that?" you question softly. They both nod.

"But he's an emotionally stunted asshole who only knows how to shut you out," McKay's bluntness is refreshing. "Sorry, it's true. But none of that means he doesn't love you still."

You glance over onto the patio, where Robby appears to be saying his goodbyes to everyone, laughing with Langdon and Princess.

He catches your eye, giving you a tug of his ear. Like you used to do at parties neither wanted to attend. It was your secret code-let's get the fuck out of here. You return the gesture.

Robby walks over, back straightening as he puts his sunglasses on, a friendly grin on his face as he addresses you. "Are you good to go?"

"See you guys Monday?" you turn to your friends, waving and blowing dramatic kisses as they say goodbyes.

You can hear them whispering as you head toward the door, and you feel Stephanie's eyes on you both. But none of that seems to matter right now. The way Robby is looking at you is all you can focus on.

[aliceintvland]

Robby has a wet dream that sends him spiraling. He’s in moral purgatory because he shouldn’t have. He spent a lot of time trying to think of anything but you, especially in that way. But even his body knows he’s kidding himself. Now that his subconscious conjured it, it’s the only thing he can think about.

He’d become accustomed to jerking himself off quickly and quietly, a short porn vid and his hand before passing out for the night. Efficient and necessary. Nothing special. Now, he’s taking his fucking time. Using lube and stroking himself with his eyes squeezed shut. Sweating and panting and letting himself moan out loud. He forgot how good it could feel when he drug it out. Edging. Thinking of only you.

The blushing at work is out of control and he fucking knows better than to be getting distracted when lives are on the line but his imagination has ruined him. He can’t even look at you. Can’t remember the last time he was this horny all the time. He feels insane. It’s his secret obsession. He starts getting hard the minute he climbs in his car because he knows what he’s about to do alone in his home and it’s taken all his effort to quell the fantasies and focus on work.

………. This was supposed to be a short prompt and now I don’t know what I’m doing but there’s not enough solo masturbation blurbs/fics in this fandom and it’s one of my favorite things to read.

OH YES SAY MORE!

He literally feels like a teenager again, the way he can't wait to get his hand around his cock while he stalks your social media just to get a glimpse of your sweet face and perfect lips.

[aliceintvland]

Alright….this is possibly a little much lol

But what about Dr Robby x Langdons!Wife.

Cuckold.

And that’s Langdons second chance??

And Robby is just filthy to her. And talks shit to him the whole time.

OH MY GODDDD i kinda....love this?

Like he'd be so DIRTY and CONDESCENDING TO HIM (and you)

"You think you can make her legs shake like this? Have her begging with her mouth open just for you to spit in it? Not a fucking chance."

He'd focus on you for a while, before looking right at Langdon while he absolutely obliterates your pussy

[aliceintvland]

OH OH OHHHHHH

i'm your summer girl

dr. robby x f!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually explicit content, swearing, alcohol, age gap, established mohabbot, other character cameos, robby has tattoos based on this quote from noah, um idk u guys this one is pretty light for once nothing too scary i don't think!! summer romance baby words: 18.6K synopsis: (based on these two prompts: one, two) reader and samira have been best friends since they did their undergrad together nearly ten years ago and have been in constant contact since graduation. which is why you already knew plenty about her grumpy senior attending even before you met him. but you're surprised to find when you do actually meet him that he's a lot softer than anyone has given him credit for. and hotter. so when samira invites you to a week long getaway to the poconos a year later, you can't stop yourself from asking if robby will be there. little do you know, robby's asked jack the same question about you. a/n: thank you to @dancingtruffle for the prompt! and another thank you to @gemmahale (ah sry, tag isn't working!) for suggesting the poconos as our vacation spot <3. is it realistic that this many doctors can get this amount of time off at the same time? probably not but we are doing it anyway because it’s Fun. similarly, do not ask me what year it is that's literally none of my business. alright um anyway... i am asking the age old question... is this anything?? i hope u like it but if u hate it don't tell me i am rejection sensitive ok bye <3 syd

Robby still remembered the smell of your cherry perfume, the way it settled heavy in his nose with the humid August air. Whenever he was in a crowded place afterwards, he thought he’d catch a whiff and his head would follow after, but it was never you.

It was pathetic, really, the way he still thought about you when nothing special had even happened that night. Just a single conversation over beer on a porch swing before it got to be too much. Before he started noticing how your tongue darted out between your lips when you were thinking or the way you avoided eye contact when you were embarrassed. And noticing too many of these things was going to get him in a lot of fucking trouble.

Which was why he disengaged from the conversation and went home without asking for your number. There were a few moments he thought about asking Samira for it, but he knew he’d never hear the end of that. Then, he thought about asking Jack to ask Samira and by the time that thought popped into his head he realized he was being insane.

You had been sitting on the porch swing by yourself, beer in hand and the blue glow of your phone lighting up your face. He had told himself he would only come for a single beer, mostly because Jack had asked him to.

Samira was having—not a party, exactly—but she had invited anyone who was available for a few drinks and pizza at the house she was renting. He guessed it was more of a way for her to spend time with Jack without having to ask him directly. They were both still dancing around whatever thing was going on between them, pretending it was more casual than it was.

And you were sitting alone on the porch swing, the only face Robby didn’t recognize from the Pitt. Thinking maybe you were a new hire he had missed, he made his way over to you, “This seat taken?” He asked, gesturing to the empty spot on the swing next to you.

Slowly, you raised your eyes from your phone to look up at him, and then you peered around him, as if you were wondering if it were possible he was speaking to someone else.

Finally, you shrugged, “Nope.”

A smirk tugged at his lips, “I don’t want to bother you, I can sit somewhere else if you want to be alone—“

“No, sorry—“ You sighed and shook your head, “Sit, please. I should really stop being an unapproachable loner.”

He huffed a laugh as he sat down, “This is going to sound terrible, probably, but, uh… Are you… Did you start recently? At the Pitt? I don’t recognize you, so—“

“Oh—No,” You laughed, “No, I don’t work at the hospital. Samira and I did our undergrad together, we used to be roommates. I’m just visiting.”

“Ah,” He said and hung his head, “Well, that would explain it. Where are you visiting from?”

“Los Angeles.”

He let out a low whistle, “You from there?”

“Born and raised.”

“And you went to undergrad here?”

You nodded, “Yeah,” You looked up at the moon, “I miss the east coast.”

“Why’d you go back to California?”

You sighed, “Um, things just didn’t pan out here. The pandemic. Ran out of money. Had to go back to live with my parents.”

He nodded, “I’m sure you’ll end up back here. If it’s what you really want.”

He felt your eyes on him, the way they paved a path down his face to his hands, that were lazily tearing at the label on his beer bottle, “You must be Robby.”

He raised his eyebrows as he looked back up at you, “How’d you figure that out?”

You gave him a lopsided smirk and took a sip from your beer, “Samira talks about you a lot. It’s not hard to put the pieces together.”

He looked back down at his beer bottle. Fighting the disappointment that coursed through him, he rubbed at his beard, “Well, I imagine your perception of me isn’t all that favorable, then.”

You hummed, “She really looks up to you, you know?” You leaned a bit closer to him, close enough that he could smell the beer on your breath as it tangled with your cherry perfume in a way that made him dizzy. You whispered conspiratorily, “But as her friend, you think you could ease up on her?”

He turned his head to look at you and found that you looked almost surprised at how close your faces were, although it was you that had closed the distance. You bit your lip and in the moonlight he saw the way your pupils dilated as you looked at him. And then quickly, your eyes darted away from his and he knew he was fucked.

He cleared his throat, “I’m hard on her because she’s so good. I want her to be the best.”

“You ever hear of this thing called positive reinforcement?” 

He chuckled, “Yeah, okay, if it’s that important to you, I’ll try to be nicer to her.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Damn, it was that easy?” You shook your head, “She didn’t say you were such a softie.”

Robby sighed, “I’m not, normally.” He turned his head to look at you, “You must bring it out of me.”

You blinked a few times and then quickly broke eye contact, looking down at your hands. The movement got him a whiff of your shampoo and fuck if he wasn’t like a moth to a goddamn flame. It took all of his self control not to lean into you, not to push his knee against yours, just to see what you would do. 

But you were Samira’s friend. And you were far, far, too young for him. It would create mess and he hated mess. So he cleared his throat and stood, “Thank you for the conversation, I should be going.”

You opened your mouth as if to say something else, but he was already gone, disappeared into the house, leaving you dumbfounded.

“‘Thank you for the conversation…?’” You repeated and then laughed to yourself.

Later that night as you were relaying the interaction to Samira, she informed you that he had been flirting.

You raised your eyebrows and scoffed, “Right, yeah. He didn’t even ask for my name.”

Jack came up behind Samira and twined an arm around her waist and you watched as she flushed. It was sweet, seeing her like this. In the ten years you had been friends, you had never seen a man so casually fluster her.

“He was flirting.” Jack confirmed as he scooped Cheez Itz out of the plastic bowl between you, “He’s just a little rusty.”

Samira shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, you’re going back to LA soon anyway. But, it would have been nice to get Robby laid.” She sighed mournfully, “I bet he’s much nicer after a good fuck.”

Jack began to choke on a Cheez It and you chuckled as Samira banged on his back until it came back up, “Please… don’t talk about him like that in front of me, alright?” He said, rubbing at his throat.

Samira gave him a half hearted apology and then turned back to you, smirking once he had left, “He’s not really your type anyway, is he?”

He wasn’t. Not the usual guy you went for. You were into older, but usually not that much older. You were also into unstable and mean and heavily tattooed, which Robby appeared to be none of the above. But there had been a moment, fleeting, where you had wanted to kiss him. Where you had thought he wanted to kiss you. 

“Nope,” You sighed, “Not my type.”

Samira scrutinized you for a few moments and then sighed, “A shame. So I can’t give him your number if he asks?”

You laughed, “He won’t ask, but sure, you can give it to him.”

You were right. He didn’t ask. But not because he didn’t want to, because he didn’t think he should. He did, at least, manage to get your name from Samira. It ran laps around his brain for weeks after, and then it slowed, only reappearing every so often. And even though he knew you had gone back to LA, he found himself looking for you occasionally throughout the next year.

Until Jack told him you were back in Pittsburgh as a way to convince him to go to the Poconos getaway Samira was planning.

“She’s going?” Robby asked, eyebrows raised. They were on the roof, genuinely just getting some air. Robby hadn’t found Jack on the wrong side of the railing since he had started seeing Samira. The shifts were still hard, but he had someone to go home to after. And that seemed to make the difference.

Jack turned to him and smirked, “Oh, so now you wanna come, huh?”

Robby shook his head, “I didn’t say that.”

Almost all of his residents and Jack were going to the Poconos in August at Mohan’s invitation and Robby felt he had no business there. Jack was only going because of Samira. What excuse did he have? He would just make them all uncomfortable by being there. Who wanted their boss on their vacation?

“Samira said she asked if you were coming.”

Robby turned his head at that and then scoffed, “Don’t fuck with me.”

“I’m not.” Jack said, but had a self satisfied smirk on his face, “Honest to God.”

“And she lives here now.”

Jack nodded, “Started a new job here a month ago.”

Robby leaned over the railing on his forearms. He still wondered about you, still thought about whatever magnetism that existed between you that night. If it was just alcohol induced or if it really was something. And yes, you were way too fucking young for him. But Samira and Jack seemed to be happy. Maybe… Maybe he could at least try. You had asked after him, that had to mean something. That you still thought of him, too. 

And so that was how Robby ended up pulling into the driveway of the house on the edge of the lake a few weeks later.

After Samira had informed him of what room was his and he had set all his things down, he followed her and Jack out to the patio overlooking the lake, “Is she here yet?”

Samira smirked and looked down at her phone, “Should be pulling up any minute according to her location.” Just then, the distant roar of a car in distress grew louder and louder and Samira’s grin widened, “Yeah, that’s her.”

Robby raised his eyebrows, “Does she drive a fucking Ferrari?”

Samira frowned, “I don’t know what that means to you, but no, she drives a Yaris.”

He laughed, “A Yaris? Making all that racket? Jesus Christ.” And with that, he was heading to the driveway.

Sure enough, a bright red, ancient looking Yaris was idling in the driveway. You pushed your sunglasses onto the top of your head as you turned your car off and then looked up to see Robby standing a few feet away from your car. Frowning, you opened the door and stepped out, “...Hi.”

“Are you aware that your car sounds like the engine is about to explode?”

Your frown deepened, “I don’t know, sounds fine to me.” 

Robby circled your car, looking for other sources of the noise, until he got to the back of your car. Bending down, he saw your muffler was badly corroded, and was that… Chicken wire securing it to your car? He laughed softly to himself and stood again, “Do you know your muffler’s completely rusted out?”

You stared at him for a moment, pulling your bags out of the backseat of the car, “Uhh, no? Is that bad?”

He scratched the back of his head, “Someone wrapped some wire around it to try to keep it on, but it mostly fell off.”

“Oh,” You said slowly, “Yeah, I think my roommate did that for me.”

“You think?” Finally, he approached you to help with your bags, slinging one of your duffels over his shoulder.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, I know he said something was wrong with the car and that he fixed it temporarily. I can’t afford a mechanic right now. It’s okay to drive, though?”

“Well, yes.” They began walking towards the house, “It’ll just be… loud.”

“Okay,” You smiled at him, “I can handle loud.” 

He held the door of the house open awkwardly with one arm, which you ducked under to get in.

“I could, um,” He sighed, “I could fix it for you. Order you a new muffler and attach it when we’re back in Pittsburgh.”

“Oh, I—That’s really nice, but I couldn’t pay you—“

“For free, I meant.”

You paused in the entryway and took off your backpack, “Why would you do that?”

He shrugged and lowered your duffel to the floor, “Why not?”

You stared at him a moment longer, perplexed, before you turned to see Samira in the entryway, smirking.

Within seconds, you were both squealing and your arms were wrapped tightly around each other, “This place is insane,” You said to her, “How did you afford this?”

Samira opened and closed her mouth and then blushed, “Um… Jack and Robby split it, actually.”

When you spun to look at Robby, he smiled in confirmation, a hand on the back of his neck, “Oh. Cool. Thanks.” You turned back to Samira, “Where should I put my things…?”

“Yeah, about that, so… I ran into Trevor last week…”

You tilted your head to the side in question. Trevor, your ex roommate from when you and Samira were in undergrad, Trevor? Your years-long situationship, Trevor? The same Trevor whom you had ghosted once you moved back to LA?

“And…” You could read the fear on Samira’s face as she continued, “Jack may have, not knowing the situation, invited Trevor to come?”

“Mira,” You whined, “Seriously?”

“I know, I know,” She said quickly, “And unfortunately, Jack also invited him without considering that we were already out of rooms… So…”

She allowed you to fill in the blanks and your brain was beginning to short circuit, “Okay,” You laughed, “This is a joke, right? Are you saying I’m sharing a bed with him?”

“No, no. Separate beds, same room.”

You covered your face with your hands, “I think…” You sighed, “I think I might just drive home.”

“What? No, come on. It’ll be fine, I thought you and Trevor were good? You don’t even have to be in the room that much, just to sleep–”

“You could stay in my room.” You both started at Robby’s voice behind you, having forgotten he was still there. He cleared his throat, “I could stay in the room with… Trevor, is it?”

You sighed, “That’s… sweet of you, but Trevor snores. And besides, you paid for this place, I’m not going to kick you out of your own room–”

“Really, I don’t mind. Besides, it’ll be dark soon anyway and it’s a long drive back to Pittsburgh.”

He was looking at you almost a little desperately and you started to wonder if the only reason he had come in the first place was to see you. But that was insane, right? You didn’t even know each other.

And yeah, maybe the only reason you had come was because Samira assured you Robby would be here. Maybe that one interaction had played on a loop in your mind for the whole year until you started wondering if he had really looked at you with lust and awe that night or if it was just a trick of the light.

You bit your lip and then turned back to Samira, “I’m mad at you.” You said as you bent to pick up your backpack.

“But… You’re staying?”

Samira knew you could never stay mad at her. And she had never been able to stay mad at you, either. The few times you had had disagreements you had always been able to resolve them peacefully. It was part of the reason you adored being her friend, there was never any drama and always a shoulder to cry on if you needed it.

So you bit your lip and gave her a knowing look, “Yes, under duress.”

Robby slung your duffel back over his shoulder, “C’mon, I’ll show you the room.”

You trailed after him and up the stairs, still a bit apprehensive about this whole set up. He led you to a room with a king sized bed. The room was large with big windows on one wall and a long, brown leather couch that took up almost the entire wall opposite the bed. 

You stood in the threshold of the door, stunned, but Robby didn’t seem to notice. He placed your duffel on the floor and moved his bags from where he had put them on the bed.

“There’s an en suite bathroom over there,” He gestured to the door next to the couch, “So you don’t need to share with anyone.” 

“Robby,” You said breathlessly and then started shaking your head, “This is too much. You paid for this and it’s your vacation too, you shouldn’t have to share a room with Trevor—“

“What’s your deal with this guy? Trevor?”

You smirked and tilted your head a bit. Was that jealousy? “I don’t know if that’s your business.”

He shrugged, “Well, I just thought, since you’re feeling so guilty about taking my room this could be my payment.” He said lightly, the corners of his lips beginning to tug up into a grin.

“Ah,” You laughed, “Well, if you must know, he was mine and Samira’s roommate for about three years and then we slept together on and off for a few years afterward. Until I moved back to Los Angeles.”

He stared at you for a few moments, “Okay, so you occasionally slept together, but he’s not an ex boyfriend or anything?”

You shook your head, “Nope. But not for lack of trying on his end.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Oh? So you were the heartbreaker then?”

You smirked, “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m sure he was just fine.”

“Why wasn’t he good enough for you?” Oh, so it was jealousy.

Good. You liked playing. Maybe this vacation wouldn’t be a total wash. “You worried you might make the same mistakes?”

His grin widened, and then he shook his head, “That wasn’t an answer.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “I think I’ve answered enough of your questions for today.” You picked up his duffel from where it sat in front of him and pushed it into his arms.

“Are you kicking me out of my room?” He asked, still with that teasing lilt in his voice.

You moved close enough to him that he finally caught a whiff of your perfume. Still cherries. He thought his knees might buckle. “I thought it wasn’t your room anymore?” You said softly.

You pushed gently on his chest until he was out of the doorway and closed the door.

Robby stood out in the hallway for a moment, staring at the door with a stupid grin on his face. He had just given up his room to share one with some loser kid who had made the catastrophic mistake of fumbling you, and he had the toothiest smile on his face.

Maybe he’d end this vacation sleeping in that king sized bed with you.

***

Robby was trying very hard not to seem too desperate, but Trevor had arrived hours ago and you were still in your room.

The rest of his residents wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow, most of them having had to work a shift today, so it would just be you, Trevor, him, Mohan, and Abbot.

He had sized Trevor up immediately when he got here and, well, Robby was confused to say the least. The kid was scrawny, almost every inch of skin tatted up, and was a tattoo artist. He had long and dark hair that curled around his ears. He had a nose ring and a mustache.

It was mind boggling. If this is what you were into, why had you been flirting with him? You had been flirting with him, right? There’s no way that was your fucking baseline.

Samira was across the patio with Trevor and Robby sat with Abbot in front of the fire pit. One of Robby’s hands stroked his beard absently while he watched Trevor.

“Why’re you looking at that guy like you wish he’d give you a reason?”

Robby dragged his gaze away from Trevor and back to Jack who was fucking smirking, “This is your fault.”

He shrugged, “I didn’t know they had history, okay? Samira never mentioned.”

Before, Robby had been confident he’d win you over by the end of this week. Now, there was a roughly 5’10 problem that you were avoiding so diligently you were spending your first night of vacation hiding away.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” He said finally, standing.

And that’s how he ended up back at your bedroom door, knuckles rapping gently against the wood.

A moment or two passed and then he heard the sound of feet padding across the floor. Then the door began to crack open, “Mira, I told you already, I don’t feel like seeing him ton–” You froze when you saw Robby standing there, “Oh. You’re not Mira.”

Robby’s mouth was slightly agape and he was, unfortunately staring at your bare legs and then back up to the skimpy sleep set you were wearing. A flowy pastel flowered camisole that fluttered just above your belly button and matching shorts that were so tiny, they may as well have been panties.

By some miracle between him and God himself, he managed to tear his eyes back up to yours. And you looked very smug right about now. He felt a flush begin to work his way up his neck and he cleared his throat, as if to push it back down, “Is it me you’re avoiding or Trevor?”

You hummed, “Why would I be avoiding you?”

He shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, “My irresistible charm and rogueish good looks?”

You choked out a laugh, “No, no, it’s Trevor I’m avoiding.”

“That’s a shame,” He sighed, “It’s really beautiful outside.”

You crossed your arms and smirked, “It’s the first night and you’re already trying to guilt me into having a drink with you?”

He scoffed, affronted, “I’m doing no such thing–”

“Fine, fine,” You said dramatically, “Twist my arm, why don’t you? Just let me change into something more… appropriate.”

A tragedy, really. He could stare at you for hours in that sleep set and never get tired of the view. Luckily, you closed the door before he said something stupid.

Five minutes later you were following him out onto the patio, a spiked seltzer in your hand.

Trevor immediately stood and made a big show of greeting you. Robby watched with some apprehension as his arms slid lower and lower down your back as he hugged you— Until you slapped his hands away, scowling at him.

Robby ran a hand over his mouth and beard to cover his smirk.

“What?” Trevor asked, laughing, “I can’t touch you now, either? I can’t text or call you? Had to find out from Mira’s boyfriend that you were back in town. Are we even friends anymore?”

“Trevor,” Samira inserted herself between you both, “You said you wouldn’t do this.”

“We were never friends,” You sneered, “You were always just biding your time until you could fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack muttered softly from next to Robby.

“Really? And who led on who in the end?” 

“That’s enough!” Samira said sharply, looking back and forth between her friends, “Look,” She said, softer now, “We’re all adults here, okay? We used to have fun, the three of us. Can’t we just… put all that shit aside for one week so we can have fun? Like old times?”

You sighed heavily and looked at Trevor, “I have no problem with you as long as you keep it platonic.” 

He huffed a laugh and ran a hand over his jaw, “Don’t worry, message was received loud and clear when you ghosted me when you left.”

“Guys…” Samira said lowly in warning, still between them.

But you couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that burst from your throat, “You waited until I flew across the country to text me—text! Not even call!—that you were in love with me and you think that warranted a response?”

Robby and Jack shared a look, attempted to hide their faces behind their respective drinks, and Samira blanched before turning to Trevor, “Seriously? That’s kinda embarrassing.” She said softly.

You shook your head and started to walk over to sit near Robby.

“You don’t exactly make it easy for people to tell you what they’re feeling.” Trevor said, flushed.

“Yeah,” You took a sip from your drink as you settled next to Robby, “Or maybe you’re just a pussy.”

Samira sighed and looked at you, “Really?” 

But you only shrugged your shoulders. 

“Whatever, I don’t have to listen to this,” Trevor grumbled, “I’m going to bed.”

He muttered a goodnight to Samira and you waited for him to close the sliding door behind him before you gestured after him, “See? Pussy behavior.”

Jack and Robby were both fighting grins, but Samira frowned at you, “Can’t you try to be nicer?”

“That was me being nice. And he’s the one who started it, trying to fucking grab my ass like it hasn’t been, like, three years since we last spoke.”

Samira raised her eyebrows, “He tried to grab you?”

“He did,” Robby affirmed, “I saw it.”

“Well that’s not acceptable,” Samira looked towards the door that Trevor had disappeared into, “I’m gonna ask him to leave—“

“No,” You said immediately, “No, it’ll just create more of a mess. It’s fine.”

Samira stared at you for a moment longer, “Are you sure? Look, I’m sorry we invited him I didn’t realize— You’ll always come first for me. I will kick him out.”

The smile you gave Samira was adoring and tender. “I know,” You said softly, “It’s alright, I promise.”

Finally, she nodded, and went to sit next to Jack, sighing as she did. 

“The two of you ever fight like that?” Jack nodded to you and Samira.

You met Samira’s eyes over your drink and you both broke out into smiles, “No,” You said, “I think our biggest fight was when she took the last spot in the orgo class we were both trying to take sophomore year.”

Samira grinned at you, “Yeah and to make it up to you, you made me give you all my study materials the next semester, so I think it worked out for you.”

“What about you two,” You nodded towards Jack and Robby, “You guys seem like you’ve been friends for a long time. Any brawls?”

Robby chuckled, “No, definitely not.”

“Yeah, because he knows he’d lose.” Jack teased.

“Yeah, right,” Robby said and shook his head as he tossed back the rest of his beer, “Love you  brother, but I don’t think so.”

“Oh, really?” Jack chuckled and turned to Samira, “What d’you think? Who’d win?”

“Oh, come on,” Robby bemoaned, “Of course she’s gonna pick you.”

Samira looked affronted, “I resent the fact that you think I’m incapable of being objective just because we’re together.”

Robby raised his eyebrows, “Alright then, what’s the verdict?”

Samira’s eyes traveled back and forth between Jack’s wide pleading ones and Robby’s expecting ones until she sighed, “Jack. But only because he was in the military.”

“He was a medic.” Robby complained as Jack kissed on Samira’s neck in victory, causing her to squeal.

“Still went through basic training, brother.” Jack managed, adoring eyes still on Samira.

“And what about you?” Robby asked, turning to you.

“What about me?” 

“Who do you think would win, me or Jack?”

“Oh,” You laughed, “I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever weird hypermasculine competition you’ve got going on here.”

“That’s code for she doesn’t wanna hurt your feelings, Robby.” Jack said.

You scoffed, “That is not true,” Your eyes darted to Robby’s, “I have no problem hurting his feelings.”

A lie. You looked at the crinkles by his eyes, the flush in his cheeks when he smiled at you, and those big brown eyes that looked as warm as tree bark that had baked in the summer heat all day and your immediate thought was you’d rather drown yourself in this lake than hurt his feelings. 

Alternatively, you’d also rather drown in this lake than admit that that was true.

So where did that leave you?

You swallowed and looked at Samira, “I think Jack would win.”

Jack laughed loudly and Robby eyed you with disappointment as he shook his head.

It was teasing disappointment, but you were surprised by how much it bothered you. You were realizing quickly how desperately you wanted him to like you. 

“What?” You said to Robby, “He was in the military and he carries around a knife for fun. What’re you gonna do, hm? Blink your pretty doe eyes up at him and hope it distracts him long enough for you to run away?”

Slowly, a smile stretched across Robby’s face and he nudged his knee playfully against yours as he leaned his face down close to you. Your breath hitched in your throat at his closeness and he casually reached out to push a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

When he spoke, lowly enough for just you to hear, his voice was husky and it sent chills across your arms, “You think my eyes are pretty?”

The laugh that escaped you was breathless and nervous and you quickly tore your eyes from his and looked down at your hands, trying not to think about the way his fingers, cold and wet from his beer bottle, felt against the shell of your ear or the way they dragged against the sensitive skin of your neck before he pulled away.

What the fuck was this guy doing to you? A man had never made you a giggly mess like this. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“As if you didn’t know.” You said finally, as casually as you could manage, avoiding looking at him.

“You’re pretty hard to read, actually.”

Normally, that would be true. But with him, it felt different. It felt like you were shouting it at him with every lilt of your voice, every smile, every laugh. Every time he looked at you, you felt your skin heat. 

You looked over at Samira and Jack for a moment, thought about your friendship with Samira. Everything seemed to tumble forward, all the moments you were so painfully proud of her, but also envious. How you had both wanted the same things, once. She had gotten everything and you had tripped four hundred meters out from the finish line. She was incredible, intelligent, beautiful, ambitious. The whole package. It was no wonder Jack was so obsessed with her. 

Your eyes flitted back to Robby, who was no longer looking at you, but silently staring ahead. His knee was still touching yours. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d wanted someone this badly. Someone smart and capable, someone who seemed like he could take care of you if the conversation about your dumb muffler was any indicator, someone who would be good for you.

He deserved better than you, though, he deserved someone like Samira. And even if you just slept with him, you had the faintest inclination that he might ruin you for other men for good.

You cleared your throat, “I, um, I should go to bed.”

When you stood, he followed, “Are you okay?” He asked softly, blocking your exit with his broad chest.

Christ, you were going to fold so quickly if he kept this up, “I’m fine,” You forced a smile, “Just tired.”

You stepped around him, but still he followed, steps soft and careful as he traced your path up the stairs, “Did I say something wrong?” He asked once you were at the bedroom door.

“No,” You said and almost laughed as you turned to him, “No, it’s not you.”

“Then what?” His eyes carefully searched your face, “Because I can be patient if you’re just not ready, but–”

You shook your head, “I can’t. It’s not a good idea.”

He scoffed, “You see what I mean about being hard to read?” He tilted his head as he narrowed his eyes at you, “Is it… because I’m old?”

You smiled and bit your lip, “No, I think I actually really like that bit.”

He shook his head, “Can you just tell me what it is that’s bothering you? I’m pretty good at problem solving.”

You laughed again, “I don’t think I’m a problem that’s solvable, unfortunately.”

He watched you for a while longer before sighing heavily, “Okay, just to be clear, we’re not done with this conversation. But I’ll let you get some sleep. Goodnight.” He said softly and began to walk away, down the hall to where you assumed Trevor was.

You watched after him, fought an internal battle with yourself, and then sighed, “Robby, wait.”

He froze and turned back towards you. The look of hope on his face absolutely wrecked you, “I wasn’t kidding about Trevor,” You said, “He really does snore. Very loudly. You should stay in here. I’ll sleep on the couch,” You added quickly.

He shook his head, “I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.”

You threw up your hands in exasperation, “Fine. You sleep on the couch, then. You’ll get more sleep than sleeping in the same room as Trevor.”

And so that’s how the two of you ended up awkwardly dancing around each other as you got ready for bed.

You were unable to tear your eyes away as he pulled his shirt over his head and you were granted a full view of his chest. Your mouth dried out as you stared. He was so large, but everything about him was soft, the tufts of hair that grew on his chest and by his belly button, the gentle curve of his stomach. All of this turned your yearning from a gentle smolder to a raging inferno.

But what your eyes snagged on were the two tattoos over the planes of his chest. On the right side of his chest read MEMENTO MORI and on the left side AMORI FATI.

When your eyes traveled back up, Robby was looking at you with a smug look on his face.

You cleared your throat and looked away, conscious of the way heat burned in your cheeks, “Your tattoos,” You gestured to your own chest, “You’re a fan of Stoicism?”

A slow smile stretched across his face, “You know what they mean?”

You nodded, “Memento mori: remember that you will die and amor fati: love thy fate.” You were a bit ashamed by how pleased with yourself you were when an impressed smile flitted across his face, “I took a few philosophy classes in undergrad.”

“And what did you think?”

You shrugged, embarrassed now and not wanting to seem like you were showing off, “I liked them. Once, I took an ancient Greek literature class at the same time and they tended to overlap a lot.” You nodded towards his tattoos, “Memento mori and amori fati always reminded me of my favorite line from the Iliad.”

“Which is?”

You hesitated, and then, shyly, you lifted your shirt just slightly so he could see the tattoo that decorated the side of your ribcage. 

An intricate tracing of Icarus and his infamous fall, a hand still stretching out towards the sun. On either side of his falling form, in delicate scrawl read:

Everything is more beautiful 

because we are doomed

Robby was close to you now, so he could better see your ink, and when he reached out his fingers and ghosted them over the skin of your ribcage. Your breath stuttered as goosebumps rose across your flesh.

Noting the way your breathing faltered he looked up at you and pulled his hand away, straightening. He cleared his throat, “It’s beautiful.”

You dropped your shirt, covering up the tattoo again, “Thank you.”

“What was your major in college anyway?”

“Biology.”

He frowned at that, “And you took classes for philosophy and ancient Greek lit?”

You dug through your duffel, looking for your toiletry bag, “At first, they were just electives, but then I took enough of them to grab a minor. My counselor said it would diversify me for med school or whatever,” You sighed, “Fat load of good that did me.”

Finally locating your toiletry bag, you pulled it out and turned back around to see Robby eyeing you curiously, “What?” 

“I—“ He scratched the back of his head, “Samira didn’t mention you went to med school.”

You hummed, “That’s because I didn’t.” You dug your toothbrush out of the bag, “I didn’t get in.”

When you looked up at him again, he was still staring at you, frowning. You could almost hear the glass breaking in his head. Whatever shiny impression he had of you shattering on impact. You weren’t good enough for med school, why would you be good enough for him?

“Well—“

“I’d really rather not talk about this right now, or ever, if you don’t mind.” You said softly and brushed past him to get into the bathroom.

Or, you meant to just brush past him. But he tried to brush past you at the same time, you assumed to allow you space to get into the bathroom. You both tried to shimmy sideways through the bathroom doorway and ended up chest to chest, stuck for a moment too long.

He had, in the time you had been talking, put a shirt back on. Still, as your breasts slid across his chest, you felt your nipples peak in response. 

Through the thin fabric of your shirt, it wasn’t hard to notice, even if he hadn’t already been hardwired to notice everything about you since he first saw you alone on that porch swing a year ago. You let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a moan as you desperately tried to sidle past him. 

Used to this sort of thing happening at work, he instinctually settled a firm hand on your hip to try to help you get by, but this only seemed to panic you further. In your rush to move away from him, you inadvertently pushed yourself harder against him, your other hip gliding over his crotch and causing him to hiss.

“Sorry, fuck–” You cursed and finally slid by him, breathing hard as if you had been running for miles instead of having just moved through a doorway. 

The moment passed. You were at the sink, putting toothpaste on your toothbrush with the focus of a surgeon. If there hadn’t been a flush to your cheeks, he might have assumed you weren’t affected at all.

And fuck him if his brain wasn’t immediately rushing to calculate all the ways he could get your body to react like that again. He thought of your pupils dilating in the moonlight the first time you met, the way you shivered whenever his fingers brushed across your skin earlier, the way you got flustered sometimes just when he looked at you intently enough, and now this. He wondered what sort of touches would make you writhe beneath him, cry out his name, rake your nails across his skin, beg him to go faster, harder.

Oh, he had been thinking for too long if the aching sensation in his pants was any indication. He cleared his throat and with a hand on the back of his neck he left the bathroom.

***

Robby was tracing the tattoo on your ribcage again, this time with his tongue. Your back arched up off the mattress and you were moaning his name. He kissed up until he reached your breasts, first taking a sensitive nipple between his fingers and pinching lightly until you gasped. He took it in his mouth, then, swirling the bud around his tongue.

His hard cock was pressed to your slick folds, sliding back and forth against you, his tip nudging your entrance, but never fully sinking in. You were begging now, a single tear escaped from your eye as you looked up at him. The only reason he was able to stop himself from fully sinking inside you was because he loved the sight of you like this, absolutely drenched and fucking ruined, at his mercy. No more coy looks, no more avoiding his gaze so you could pretend not to want him, no more pulling away from his touch in fear it would give you away.

No, you were completely, fully, his now and he needed to make sure you knew it. You would only cum if he decided you could. If you asked nicely, if you did what he asked, if you were the good girl he told you to be.

He slipped his fingers between your thighs and sank two of his digits into your hole, watched as you bit down on your lip to stop the moan from crawling out. Just as quickly as he started, he pulled out his fingers and ignored your whine at their absence, sliding his cock against you again.

He brought his fingers, now drenched in your juices, up to your face and gently pressed his thumb to your chin, “Open.” He commanded. You hesitated for just a moment before obeying, taking his fingers into your mouth. You looked up at him as you sucked the way he imagined you’d take his cock. He hadn’t even had you fully yet, but he thought he might cum just like this, with you humming against his fingers. He rutted his hips faster, barely registering it when you reached a hand between you to hold your folds tighter around him, creating more friction and Jesus fucking Christ he was going to cum–

Robby awoke to the sound of the box fan in the window. The sun hadn’t yet fully risen and he could hear your soft snores from the bed, less than ten feet away from him. As consciousness returned to him and he shifted on the couch, he registered the sticky dampness between his legs and his eyes flew open.

No fucking way. There was no fucking way he had– He pulled the blanket he had been using off and was confronted with an absolute mess in his boxers. He ran a hand down his face in frustration. What sort of fucking grown man came in their pants like that and over a woman sleeping not ten feet away that was at least two decades younger than him? 

He tried to quietly get up from the couch and escape to the bathroom, but the couch was leather and creaked loudly with his movement. He froze and waited, eyes closed, and sure enough, you stirred.

“Robby?” Your voice was heavy and rough with sleep and he tried to ignore how much he liked the sound of it, “S’that you?”

“Just going to the bathroom,” He said softly, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

The endearment slipped from him without his permission and he hung his head when his brain caught up with his mouth. But you hadn’t seemed to register it, or perhaps didn’t mind, as you silently settled back against your pillow. He sighed quietly in relief and then headed to the bathroom to clean up.

If this was how it was going to be, if just seeing an inch of your skin and brushing up against you on the way to the bathroom was going to prompt wet dreams that had him coming in his pants, he had no idea how he was going to make it through this week without convincing you to let him in your bed.

And now his residents would be getting here today, would be witnessing him desperately trying to get laid by a girl who they’d played beer pong with once. Humiliating.

But as he stood in the bathroom and rolled that dream over in his head again, he thought it’d probably be worth it. If he could have you even once, just a taste, maybe it would satiate him long enough to move on when they got back to Pittsburgh. Maybe. 

Or maybe it would never be enough. Maybe there was something about you that would keep him coming back, keep trying to find new ways to make you laugh so you’d let him in, like a stray at the door looking for scraps.

There was only one way to find out.

***

“You slept with Robby last night?” Samira’s voice had you turning your head from the paperback in your hand.

The two of you were laying on the dock, sunbathing, along with Trevor. You and Trevor had called a truce that morning and so far, he had been abiding by the conditions. Of which, there was really only one: not to touch you in a way that wasn’t strictly platonic. 

Jack had gotten a new prosthetic extension that allowed him to swim properly (thoroughly researched and recommended by Samira) and was in the lake with Robby.

Trinity, Dennis, Victoria, and Parker had all arrived a couple of hours ago. Parker had set up a volleyball net nearby and the four of them were attempting to play a match.

“No,” You scoffed, “He slept on the couch because I knew this one would keep him up with all his snoring.” You playfully shoved Trevor’s shoulder next to you.

“Ow,” Trevor murmured, rubbing at his shoulder. Then he turned on his side to face you, “Mira, are you trying to set her up with your boss?”

Samira scoffed, “Didn’t have to try, they’ve been obsessed with each other since they met, but neither of them will admit it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again and attempted to cover your face with your paperback, “I am not obsessed with him, I just think that… he’s kinda cool… and we… vibe.”

Samira and Trevor both looked at you blankly, “You are hearing yourself, right?” Samira said eventually.

You groaned, “Whatever! I’m not gonna sleep with him, it’s a bad idea.”

“And, pray tell, why is that?”

“I–” You quickly looked to see if anyone else was around, but Jack and Robby were still in the water and the other residents still preoccupied, “Because I’m not good with relationships, Trevor can attest.”

Trevor pursed his lips, “This feels like a trap,” He looked at Samira, “No comment.”

“Look, you don’t even know if he wants a relationship. At least sleep with him, just once. I know you’re dying to.” You rolled your eyes and didn’t respond. But you were dying to, especially after accidentally rubbing up against him like that last night and seeing him shirtless. “I don’t know what you said to him that first night you met him, but he was so nice to me, for like, weeks after. And you spoke to him for what? Five minutes? If you won’t do it for yourself, think of me! Do you know how nice he would be if he got to actually sleep with you?”

You sighed, “I will… consider it.”

Samira smiled, “Excellent.”

Just then, Jack swam up to the dock, to Samira, and rested his arms on the edge as he floated, “Samira, come swim with me.”

Samira wrinkled her nose as she considered, “It’s cold in there.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” He said lowly, leaning up to kiss her. Samira smiled against his mouth, laughed when he wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her down into the water with him. They continued kissing, Samira’s legs wrapped around Jack’s waist.

You sighed and turned back to your book, “Gross.” You muttered to Trevor.

“You know, we could make out in the lake.” He said in a voice you knew to mean he was trying to be seductive. It used to work on you, but now it only grossed you out, “Give your new boyfriend something to worry about.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You said, voice bored, “And I’m not interested.”

You heard splashes coming from the ladder and looked up in time to see Robby pulling himself out of the water and onto the dock. Your stomach flipped again, seeing him shirtless. The water had weighed down his bathing suit so that it hung dangerously low on his hips. You were shocked when the first thought that came into your mind was that you longed to bite his hips and you cleared your throat as if it would cleanse your impure thoughts. You turned back to your book.

A moment later, a giant shadow in the shape of a man was blocking your sun and you felt the cold lake water dripping all over your body, “You’re getting my book wet.” You said, trying to sound bored as you looked up at him.

He had a boyish grin on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, shaking it like a wet dog and causing more droplets to splatter all over you, “Sorry,” He said, sounding anything but.

It was such a childish thing to do, but he looked stupid handsome as he smirked at you and you wondered if this was the type of thing he used to pull when he was your age. How many girls had he gotten into bed with that gorgeous smile and big brown eyes?

“You can swim, right?”

You watched him for a moment before looking back down at your book, “Of course I can swim, I grew up in Los Angeles.”

“Come in the water with me.” He said, still blocking your sun.

“No thanks,” You turned the page of your book, “It’s too cold.”

“Oh, come on,” He whined, “It’s not so bad once you’re in. It’s not the Pacific Ocean, I’ll give you, that, but it’s still nice. Have some fun.”

It was certainly not the Pacific Ocean, but you were more so worried about being able to keep your hands to yourself once you were in the water with him. Once no one would be able to see your hands on his waist, or better yet, in his shorts–

You were determined to keep your eyes on your book, “No thank you.”

He let the silence hang there for a moment, then finally he sighed, “Fine. Could you hand me my towel, then?”

You placed your book down on your towel and leaned over Samira’s now empty one to grab one of the dry towels meant for Robby and Jack. 

In retrospect, you probably should’ve realized what he was about to do. It was the oldest trick in the book. But you also hadn’t been a teenager in many years and so hadn’t had to worry about boys pulling goofy shit to flirt with a girl.

So for half a second, when you reached out the towel to him and his hand clamped around your wrist rather than the towel, you were just confused. But then in the next moment, he had pulled the towel from your hand, and dropped it back down to the dock and it was then that you realized how you had fucked up.

You tried to wrench your wrist back, “Robby–”

Smirking, he pulled you by the wrist and with a bend of his knees, had thrown you over his shoulder and began walking.

You squealed, “Put me down.”

He stopped walking, “Okay,” You heard the smirk in his voice, and again realized your fatal error too late.

“Don’t you dare–”

You were suspended in the air for a moment, before you hit the water, cold and unforgiving. Your head plunged beneath the surface for a second before you got your bearings and broke the surface again. The water was shallow enough that you could stand and while you gasped for air, you saw that Robby had jumped back in and was wading over to you, smirk still on his face.

“See? Not so bad.” He said smugly.

You scowled at him, “I’m very upset with you.”

Even as you said it, you had to fight a smile. Jesus fucking Christ, it was pathetic the levels of infatuated you had achieved because if this were any other man, if it was, say, Trevor who had pulled this shit, you wouldn’t have spoken to him for the rest of the night. Maybe not even for the rest of the vacation.

But Robby had thrown you in the lake and with just a smile, you were on the verge of giggling again. Oh, you were so fucked. 

“Really?” He was close to you now, close enough to touch, “You don’t seem that upset.”

“Yeah, well, I’m furious.” You said mildly. It was dangerous to be this close, so you moved to take a step back, but your foot landed on a particularly slimy rock and you slipped—

“Woah—“ Robby secured an arm around your waist before you could slip under the water and pulled you flush to his chest, “Careful, it’s slippery right there.” He said, teasing.

You huffed and looked up at him, conscious of every place your bodies touched. He had draped your arms around his neck and was now looking at you innocently, like he hadn’t fully manufactured this.

Your tongue darted between your lips and you ran your hands through his wet hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, “You can let me go, now,” You said softly, “I won’t slip again.”

His eyes were heady with desire, “I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you.” He lowered his hands until they gripped the back of your thighs and then hiked you up until you were straddling his waist, ankles tangled behind his back. Like this, your face was level with his, and his jaw was clenched as he watched you. As if he was restraining himself from something. From you.

“What’re you doing?”

He smirked and nudged his nose into yours, your breaths intertwined in the minimal space between you. Even drenched in lake water, you still smelled faintly of cherries.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He whispered.

He leaned towards you, mouth searching for yours, and you pulled back slightly, “C’mon sweetheart,” He said softly, “Enough of the games. Let me in.”

It wasn’t a game, not to you. And that’s what was so scary. Because it had always been a game to you. There had never been anyone you had wanted more seriously than that. With Trevor he only wanted something more when he realized you didn’t want him like that. He didn’t really love you and you had never loved him. But now you were staring at Robby, shivering in the frigid water and you thought maybe you could love him.

Nearly thirty, you had started to wonder if maybe you just weren’t capable of feeling that deeply for someone else. And still, you didn’t know if you were. But Robby was the first man that made you curious to find out.

“You might not like what you find.” Your voice wavered.

He tilted his head slightly, “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

Let me worry about that. You thought about his offer yesterday to fix your car. Thought about his willingness to swap beds with you so you could be comfortable. Let me worry about that. What would it be like to have someone else to help take care of things? To lighten the load, even just a little?

So when he leaned in to kiss you again, this time you didn’t stop him. It felt like relief, with his mouth finally on yours. When you sighed into him, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and your nails dug into his shoulders in response.

You felt his hands tighten their grip on your legs under the water. He seemed torn between keeping you wrapped around his waist like this or dropping you so his hands could wander.

Before he could make a decision, a wolf whistle split the air and the both of you froze. Robby broke his mouth away from yours, turning his head to follow the sound and saw Jack smirking at the two of you, Samira also looking smug from behind him with her arms draped over his shoulders. A moment later, there was whooping coming from the rest of the residents who were playing volleyball near the shore.

Feeling your cheeks heat, you buried your face in Robby’s shoulder.

“Ignore them,” Robby said softly, “Do you want to go inside?”

You pulled your head back from his shoulder so you could see his face. He looked like he was seconds away from devouring you here, in the lake, with everyone watching. Seemingly so desperate for you, he didn’t mind all of his coworkers and subordinates watching. 

“Is that what you want?”

He gave you a knowing look, “I want you in whatever capacity you’ll allow. So, do you want to go inside?”

He had to know that now, having tasted him, you wouldn’t be able to deny yourself any longer. The dam you had built between you had sprung a leak. Several, in fact. It was only a matter of time before it was completely eviscerated.

“Yes.” You said eventually.

A giddy smile transformed Robby’s face and he leaned in to give you another quick kiss, “Get on my back.” He murmured against your mouth.

You laughed, “What?”

Rather than explain further, he shifted your weight, spinning you until you understood he wanted you on piggyback.

“You know,” You laughed, pressing kisses up the side of his neck, “I told you I can swim.”

“I know,” He said as he began wading to the shore, “But isn’t this more fun?”

It was a bit embarrassing, if you were honest, drawing more stares and attention from the others. Once close enough to the shore, Robby seemed to give the residents a look you couldn’t see, but must have been scathing as they all abruptly returned their attention back to their volleyball game.

Robby let you off his back and grabbed a dry towel for you, wrapping it around your shoulders and rubbing his hands over it to help dry you before grabbing his own towel.

“You kids be safe now,” Jack was leaning on the edge of the dock, Samira doing the same next to him, both of them smirking at you, “Wrap it before you tap it and all that.”

Robby sighed heavily, “She’s gonna change her mind if you don’t be quiet.”

“No she won’t.” Samira said, “I’ve never seen her this obsessed with anyone. Not even Trevor, whom she slept with for years.”

“Mira!” You hissed indignantly.

“Heard that,” Trevor called, “Hurtful and unnecessary.”

“Let’s go,” Robby draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side and beginning to walk towards the house, “You’re obsessed with me, huh?” He said quietly.

You rolled your eyes, “Whatever. As if you’re not obsessed with me.”

“Of course I am,” He opened the back door of the house for you, waited for you to walk inside before following, “But I’m not ashamed of it.”

He blew past you as his words stopped you in your tracks. For the first time, it struck you what it all must’ve looked like to him. How you had been flirting with him, but then pushing him away, over and over. 

You trailed after him up the stairs, “I’m not—I’m not ashamed.”

At the top of the stairs, he turned to face you, “I don’t particularly want to have this conversation right now, when I’m finally about to have you naked in my bed—“

“My bed,” You teased, smirking, “Remember?”

He huffed a short laugh and shook his head, “You’re impossible.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, your eyes transfixed by his mouth, “Do you think you’ll still want me?” You asked quietly, your voice small, “After you’ve had me?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Is that what this is about? You’re worried I won’t like you after?”

It hadn’t been something you had thought about before, with other partners, because usually you didn’t care enough. You liked being desired, of course, who didn’t? But more often than not if partners disappeared afterwards, you shrugged it off and moved on to the next one. 

But with Robby… You had only really known each other for a day or so, but there was something that seemed to pull you to him. The chemistry was easy, effortless as it seemingly flowed back and forth, infinite. With him, you also had a desire to impress, to prove yourself. Like with the tattoos last night. You wanted him to think you were more than just someone to fuck. Another new feeling, one you weren’t used to. You wondered how badly it would hurt if he carelessly let you slip through his fingers and crash back to earth. 

He was looking at you now with the patience of a saint, never mind the fact that he had finally convinced you to let him touch you and you were making him wait again. It made you feel stupid, so you quickly shook your head. 

“Nothing, forget it. Forget I said anything. Kiss me, please.”

For a second, you thought he might refuse, might make you talk to him, but then he was kissing you again, hard and sloppy as he pushed you through the doorway of your shared room. Never taking his mouth off yours, he half carried, half pushed you towards the bathroom.

With his tongue in your mouth, you were desperate to feel him, to see how needy he was so you ran your hands down his chest and past his waist. When you palmed him over his bathing suit, he groaned and took your lip between his teeth, biting hard enough that you thought maybe he had drawn blood. He was big in your hand. You had thought he was probably packing just from the size of him, but he was bigger than you had imagined.

You swallowed hard as he reached behind you to turn on the shower with one hand and pulled your other hand off his cock, “You can’t be touching me like that yet,” He said, voice gravelly.

You smirked, “Worried you might… ejaculate prematurely?” You teased.

He stared at the warm spray from the shower as he temperature checked it with one hand, “Yeah, actually. And I plan to make you come at least twice before I even consider fucking you properly. I want you crying and begging me to stop because you’re too sensitive before I fill you up.” His eyes slowly looked back at yours, “Is that what you want? Because if not, you should probably tell me now. So we can stop.”

Your breathing faltered hearing him talk like that. Your stomach flipped and you felt yourself beginning to drip into your bathing suit. You swallowed and then nodded, “That’s what I want.”

He offered you a slow smile and then his gaze travelled down your body. He was just looking at you, but it felt filthy. Like he was already thinking about all the compromising positions he could put you in. 

You started to take off your bikini, but he stopped you, “Wait.” He said, and his voice dipped, “Haven’t gotten a proper look at you in it yet. Seems like a waste.”

You smirked, “You want me to do a quick spin for you?”

You had mostly been teasing, but he nodded, and so you obliged. Once your back was facing him, his hands came up to touch you. Warm and calloused, they ran down your waist to your ass, which he squeezed appreciatively before giving it a firm smack.

It didn’t hurt, but you gasped and he ran a soothing hand over the skin, “Sorry, I should’ve asked first. S’that okay?”

“Yes,” You said breathlessly.

He brushed the hair off the back of your neck and you automatically tilted your head to allow him access to kiss and suck on it, letting out a soft moan at the scratch of his beard against your skin. As he kissed you, he untied the top of your bathing suit and you felt him sigh as he peered over your shoulder at your bare tits.

“Fuck,” He cursed so softly, you didn’t know if it was even meant for you to hear. He brought his hands up to feel them, his rough palms immediately causing your nipples to harden. He pinched and pulled at them lightly and you moaned in earnest, pushing yourself further into his body behind you.

Your skin felt like it was on fire. Every touch and every kiss had you wondering what you wouldn’t do to keep his attention on you like this. To keep this burning low in your belly. He was so attentive, soft and rough at the same time, watching your reactions to everything so carefully. Just having his eyes on you alone felt like you were a supernova, on the edge of self destruction. You thought you would likely damn yourself to Hell if it meant he would keep touching you like this.

He guided you into the shower and you stepped out of your bottoms. It was a large walk in shower and easily fit the two of you without much effort. Immediately, he got on his knees in front of you. He gripped the backs of your thighs and kissed your stomach, and then made a path down. The way your hips pushed up into him was an involuntary reaction, really, but then he suddenly pulled his mouth away and you pouted.

When you looked down at him, he was grinning, “What’s this?” 

He ran a finger over a small tattoo on your upper hip that you tended to forget about a lot. It was almost always completely covered by panties or, in today’s case, a bathing suit. 

In messy, loopy cursive, it read bon appétit. 

You sighed, embarrassed, “It’s stupid, I got it when I was, like, twenty.”

He looked down at it again, ran his thumb over it, “Did… Did Trevor give you this?”

It felt like the wrong time to talk about this, which was why you hadn’t mentioned, but now that he was asking… “Yeah. He was practicing,” You gulped, “Do you hate it?”

“Hm?” He looked back up at you and then frowned, “Oh, no. No, of course not. I was just…” He sighed, “The juvenile answer is just that I hate that he’s seen you like this.”

You ran a hand over his hair, “If it makes you feel any better, the irony of him giving me this tattoo is that he never really liked eating me out anyway. I almost always had to ask for it, and even then he’d get frustrated if I didn’t come within a couple of minutes.”

He gave a short laugh, “Makes it worse, actually. That you slept with someone like that for years. You didn’t think you deserved better than that?”

You were shocked when you felt the beginning pinpricks of tears at the backs of your eyes. No, you didn’t, actually. It was why the more time you spent with Robby you realized it was him who was out of your league and not the other way around. Why you suspected he’d probably bolt after he slept with you. You thought you probably didn’t deserve someone better than Trevor and so you had resigned yourself to being alone instead.

You swallowed, “Can we stop talking about Trevor, please?”

He must’ve heard the tears in your voice because he looked up and immediately rose back up to standing, “Hey,” He cradled your face in his hands, tenderly kissed your cheeks and forehead, before pressing a long kiss to your mouth, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He kept kissing you, deepened it again until you couldn’t think about anything other than the man in front of you, drunk on the taste of him. He kissed his way down your body until he was on his knees again, kissing and biting at your hips.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder and kissed your inner thigh, up until you felt him lapping at your folds. He was being so gentle and slow, avoiding your throbbing clit where you wanted him most, teasing on purpose you suspected. Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you grabbed at his hair and rutted your hips into him. He groaned into you and his nose rubbed against your clit exactly where you needed, but he was pulling away, securing his arms around your thighs to keep you still.

“Be good for me,” He said, looking up at you, “Let me take my time, taste you properly first, hm? Can you do that for me, baby?”

It didn’t seem like much of a choice, but you nodded eagerly anyway. He didn’t waste time beginning his assault on you again. It felt like minutes were passing and still, he purposely seemed to neglect the one place you were most needy for him. Tears were collecting at the corners of your eyes, “Please, Robby.” You whined, “Please, please, I’ve been so good, please.”

He took his mouth off you for a moment and looked up at you. When he saw the tears beginning to fall from your eyes, the smugness emanated from him in waves. “What do you want, sweetheart? You wanna cum on my tongue?” 

You nodded desperately, “Please.” It was the only word you seemed capable of saying.

He turned his attention back to your pussy, pushed a finger inside you and curled it upwards, slowly stroking that spongy spot that had your knees going weak. You thought your legs may have given out if it wasn’t for Robby holding you up. He added a finger and you were dizzy, the muscles tightening in your abdomen. Finally, he began swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud until you cried out, grinded yourself against him, let the sensation of his beard and mouth push you through your orgasm.

He left his fingers inside you as he rose to standing again, slowly pushing them in and out of you even as you came down. “You taste even better than I thought you would.” He said in your ear as his fingers kept slowly fucking you, pushing you into the wall behind you.

“Robby, I don’t,” You paused, wetting your lips. The slow movement of his fingers inside you was stirring that sensation inside you again, coiling like a spring, “I’m gonna cum again,” You said, shocked you were still able to string full sentences together, “If you keep going I’m gonna–”

He pressed a thumb to your clit and kissed up your neck to your earlobe, which he lightly took between his teeth. All coherent thought ceased, there was just the feeling of his mouth on your skin, his fingers inside you, his rough voice asking you to cum, “Go on then, cum all over my fingers like a good girl, you can do it.” The whine you let out sounded pathetic to your own ears as he moved his hand marginally faster until you were coming apart in his arms again, tears streaming down your cheeks in earnest now, “There you go,” He cooed, bringing his face back so he could see your flushed face and tearstained cheeks.

Still, his fingers kept moving inside you and you whimpered, using your hands to push at his wrist uselessly. He stayed anchored inside you. You were so sensitive now, the pleasure was almost painful. “Oh, come on, baby,” He said, “You can give me one more, can’t you? You said this is what you wanted. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?”

You hiccupped and shook your head, no. He brought his other hand up to play with your nipples and the broken moan you let out sounded like a sob as you again felt yourself being pushed incrementally towards the edge of a cliff. “Kiss me,” You sighed desperately, “Kiss me, please.”

He hesitated for a moment before he kissed you and you wondered idly if maybe he knew you better, if this wasn’t the first time you were together like this, if he would’ve denied the request. If he was enjoying being a little mean and denying you what you wanted. The thought had you longing for more. You couldn’t take it now, you didn’t think, but the idea of doing this again with him was enough to get you to the precipice again. Your walls tightened around his fingers and he moaned into your mouth, “Go on, sweetheart. Can feel you’re there, give me one more.”

You thought you might black out when your orgasm ripped through you again. You shook in his arms, nails digging deep into the skin of his arms in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself. He murmured praises in your ear as you came down, gently pulled his fingers out of you and wiped away your tears.

He turned the shower off, dried you off, and in your fucked out haze he had to guide you to the bed. 

“You okay?” He asked gently, crawling over you, “We can stop.”

You shook your head slowly, a silent command, don’t stop. You looked down to see him putting a condom on himself as he watched you.

He swallowed, “You’re sure?” You nodded, and he chuckled, “Think you can use your words for me?”

You slid your tongue over your lips, “Yes,” You said slowly, “I’m sure.”

He lined up his tip with your soaked entrance and pushed in just an inch, “You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” He asked.

“Robby,” You laughed, “Are you gonna fuck me, or what?”

He fought a smirk and nodded before slowly easing himself inside you. You both sighed in relief when he filled you, “Jesus fucking Christ,” He moaned.

At first he was slow, gentle. He watched you carefully, as if he thought you were in danger of breaking. It would’ve made you laugh if it wasn’t so fucking sweet. When it was clear you were okay, were enjoying yourself even, he seemed to lose a bit of the careful restraint he’d been showing. 

He brought one of your legs up to his shoulder, pressed a kiss to your ankle before pressing into you again. His pace became relentless as he gripped your hips and he was so, so deep, you could feel him everywhere. Obscene, wet slapping sounds filled the space along with his pants and moans. 

“Harder,” You breathed and his eyes snapped to yours, surprised, “Please, I won’t break.”

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned and let your ankle fall back down, opting to fold himself over you instead to be closer. He kissed you sloppily, sucking your tongue into his mouth as he pounded into you, sucking up your moans like water. “Gonna cum,” He panted into your mouth.

You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into skin. He was beautiful like this, you thought, on the verge of coming apart. If he hadn’t absolutely ruined you earlier, you would’ve liked to ride him yourself or make him come with your mouth. But this was a dream, more than you could have asked for, being able to see him like this. It felt like a gift, being allowed this peek into who he was when he was vulnerable. 

He buried his face in your neck when he came, groaning and breathless. His hips moved sporadically as his orgasm stuttered through him. You stroked a hand down the back of his head and kissed his cheek.

Still out of breath, he pulled his face back enough to kiss you again and you sighed contentedly into his mouth. 

“Still okay?” He asked.

You nodded, “Never better. You?”

He nodded and swallowed, “Yeah.”

After a moment, he pulled out of you and stood to rid himself of the condom. When he came back, he rolled back into bed and pulled you to him, pressing kisses on whatever bare skin he could reach.

He pressed a finger lightly into your cheek furthest from him to turn your head back to him. His eyes searched yours for just a moment before he kissed you on the mouth, long and slow. It made your toes curl. 

“I was thinking,” He said, “That we could shower again and then go watch the sunset on the shore. Share a bottle of wine. How does that sound?”

You smiled sleepily, “That sounds lovely.”

***

A little while later, you were sitting between Robby’s legs, your back pressed to his chest. It had cooled considerably since you had last been out here and Robby let you use one of his hoodies. 

You were still sleepy from the sex and the wine only made your limbs feel more languid and heavy as you passed the bottle back and forth.

“I’m going to ask you something,” Robby said eventually, “And I don’t want you to get mad when I do.”

You frowned, “Okay…?”

“You were premed? In undergrad?”

You sighed, “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you go to med school?”

You could feel yourself growing prickly and defensive, jaw clenching, “I applied twice within a couple of years. I didn’t get in. The pandemic hit, I lost my job, I ran out of money, I moved back home with my parents.” You shrugged, “I don’t know, I just… I didn’t see the point in trying again.”

It was more than that. The second time you didn’t get in, the failure had felt so visceral, you didn’t tell anyone for weeks. When you were forced into moving back to Los Angeles in the middle of the pandemic, the next year or so had felt unbearable with your failure seeming to loom above you, inescapable. Thinking back on it, you felt it was a wonder you had survived it at all.

“Do you still want to be a doctor?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. It doesn’t matter though, it’s too late.”

“Too late?” You felt Robby’s chest rumble with a laugh behind you, “How old are you? Twenty seven? Twenty eight?”

“Twenty nine.” 

He laughed again, “You’re a baby. It’s not too late for anything.”

Annoyed, you pushed off his chest and rose on your knees to face him, “I’m not doing it again, okay? So just drop it.”

He shook his head, “Why? Because you’re scared? I didn’t take you for a coward.”

You nodded and rubbed at your eyes, tried not to feel the punch to the gut his words were, “Yeah, well, you don’t really know me, do you?”

For a moment, there’s just his breathing and the gentle lap of the lake on the shore.

“I feel like I do.” He said softly, “And the girl who tattooed an Iliad quote on her body about how life is both beautiful and fragile strikes me as brave.”

Your eyes wandered back up to his and he had a tender look in his eyes as he met your gaze. 

You didn’t believe in love at first sight. You didn’t believe in love at first fuck, either. Whatever this was, whatever was causing your pulse to thrum erratically under your skin when he looked at you like that had to just be simple infatuation. It would pass. And Robby should have known better because he was in his damn fifties. You tore your gaze from his and stared at the tree line stubbornly. 

“I think,” Robby said after a few moments of silence, “That it’s never too late to do anything. And the worst that could happen is you try again and it doesn’t work out. You’re no worse off than when you started. What’s the harm?”

Your ego, for one. Not to mention the couple of thousands of dollars it would cost to retake the MCATs, order your transcripts, pay for each school’s application fee. Money you didn’t have. 

You shook your head slightly and crawled back over to him, placing a hand on the back of his neck to pull his face to yours. You kissed him hungrily and the surprised moan he let out sent chills down your spine.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” You murmured and slipped your free hand underneath the waist band of his shorts.

You watched as his eyes rolled back into his head when you touched him, felt him begin to swell against your palm, “You can’t–” He let out a pained groan, “There’s only so many times… I’ll let you fuck me to get out of a difficult conversation…”

You hummed, “What I’m hearing,” You said, leaning close to his ear, “is that it’s working.”

He cursed and slipped a hand behind your back before deftly flipping you so that you laid flat on the blanket you had been sitting on just moments earlier. 

“I’ll fuck you as many times as you need,” He said roughly, “But we will be finishing this conversation later.”

You were smirking up at him smugly and you could tell it was pissing him off with the way his jaw clenched and he tilted his head above you. 

“Now, open your mouth,” He said, and pressed his thumb to your chin.

***

It went like that for a couple of days. Robby would try discussing med school, where did you apply, where would you want to go now, did you have a specialty in mind, you should volunteer at the Pitt, he could write you a letter of recommendation, he could help you study for the MCATS, and on and on and on. 

Every time you would get increasingly more agitated and your attempts to distract him with sex were becoming less and less effective which only served to piss you off more.

You had spent the day on a boat outing, drinking in the sun, Robby’s hands all over you whenever he thought nobody was looking. Filthy mouth in your ear whispering all the things he was going to do to you once you got back to the house. 

He had fulfilled those promises and now you were fucked out and tired from being in the sun all day. Also you were a little grumpy that the group had planned to go out for drinks that night at a local bar. All you really wanted was to curl back up into Robby in bed and listen to the lull of the AC and Robby’s voice as he read aloud from the novel he had brought with him.

But you were here to be with friends, not just Robby. And you really enjoyed the company of the others as well, having met them a couple of times after moving back to Pittsburgh. They were always so sweet and welcoming to you, never making you feel like an outsider, even when the envy seemed to overtake you when they began telling stories about med school rotations or their latest shift.

So now you and Robby were in the shower, about to begin the task of getting ready for a night out when he brought it up again.

“You know, I know one of the professors at UPitt, I could get you an introduction, maybe a coffee even–”

“Robby,” You said sharply, “I don’t know how many fucking times I have to tell you, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not going to apply to med school again. I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah, to some dead end job at a biotech company that some giant corporation will probably buy out in a couple of years.” He said it offhandedly, like he genuinely didn’t think it would hurt you. He didn’t even look up as he said it, just continued lathering his legs up with soap.

“Wow,” You scoffed, “Didn’t realize you thought I was such a loser. Thanks for clearing that up.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, you thought perhaps realizing his mistake too late, “That’s not what I meant–”

“Well what the fuck did you mean, then, hm?” You stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself, desperate to create space and distance, “Why don’t you just fucking admit it?”

He stared at you through the glass, perplexed, “Admit what?”

“That you won’t fucking want me when we get back to Pittsburgh and I continue to be some loser who works at a ‘dead end’ job?”

He shook his head, “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I don’t care what you do, what I care about is that you feel happy and fulfilled and I’ve seen enough doctors in my life to recognize the… hunger, the drive. The need to be needed, the desire to fix and heal. And I see it in you and you’re fucking wasting it.”

You scoffed and turned away, “You’re still talking like you know me, but we only really met a few days ago.”

“Okay, so, fuck, the last few days count for nothing then? I’ve spent nearly every goddamn minute with you since we got here. You think I don’t know you because you won’t talk to me, but you don’t have to say anything. I see the way you look at Samira. You love her, but there’s a sadness behind it, like you’re mourning something. I see the way you deflate around my residents when they talk shop in front of you, like a fucking kid left out at the lunch table. You’re not that fucking difficult to understand.”

You braced your hands on the bathroom sink, “It seems like all you’ve found out is that I’m insecure, not exactly the discovery of the century.”

You heard him scoff, “No, what I found out is that you’re so fucking scared of maybe being a little uncomfortable that you’d rather be miserable your whole life than try.”

“I’m not scared.” 

The shower turned off and you heard him get out, wrap a towel around his waist, “You are, kid, and it’s making a coward out of you.”

You shook your head and started throwing your products back into your makeup bag, “Fuck you.” You said quietly and stormed out of the bathroom.

“And now you’re acting like a child,” he said, following you into the bedroom, “instead of having an adult conversation.”

“You’re not trying to have a conversation, you’re just being a condescending asshole.” You grabbed the outfit you planned on wearing tonight and all your makeup, “I’m going to get ready elsewhere.”

He ran a hand over the back of his head in frustration, “Yeah, keep running from it,” He murmured, “I’m sure that’ll solve it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and walked out of the room, towel wrapped around you and all your makeup and clothes clutched to your chest.

When you knocked on Samira’s door, Jack answered, frowning down at you, “Are you… okay?”

“Who is it, Jack?”

Jack let the door open fully and you saw Samira sitting on the ground in front of a floor to ceiling mirror, makeup brush in hand, “Oh. Hi.”

You took a deep breath, “Can I get ready in here?”

Samira smiled and scooted to the side to make room for you in front of the mirror and you brushed past Jack to sit with her.

“What happened?” Samira asked as you got settled next to her.

You frowned, “Nothing, I just wanted to get ready with you. Like we used to.” You inhaled sharply and clapped your hands together, “You know, maybe we should do shots.”

She was still smiling at you, but watching you carefully, “Come on, I know you.” She said softly, “It’s always been easy to see when you’re upset.”

You swallowed and glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, starting to dot your tinted moisturizer onto your face with fingers.

“Robby and I had a fight.” You said finally.

Samira nodded, “About?”

Slowly, you both turned to look at Jack who was seated at the edge of the bed on his phone, pretending not to eavesdrop.

He looked up when he felt you both staring at him, “What?” You both raised your eyebrows and he sighed, standing, “Fine, I’ll go, but I’m hurt that you don’t consider me one of the girls.”

Samira smirked, “If Robby wasn’t your best friend, I’d let you stay.”

Jack shook his head as he left the room, “That guy’s always ruining things for me.” 

You and Samira both turned back to the mirror, “Continue.” Samira said.

You sighed as you blended out the moisturizer with your beauty blender, “He kept pushing and pushing about med school and I told him I wasn’t going to apply again and he basically implied that I was a loser at a dead end job and wasting my life.”

Samira frowned, “Surely he didn’t say it like that?”

You blinked and watched her face in the mirror, “Does it matter how he said it?”

She didn’t say anything for a few moments and you scoffed, “Oh my God,” You said slowly, “You agree with him.”

Samira shook her head, “No, it’s not—“ She sighed, “I definitely don’t think that you’re a loser. And I don’t think that you’re wasting your life… If you’re happy, but you’re not. I know you’re not.”

You didn’t say anything, picked up your concealer and did your best to blink away the burning in your eyes. It was annoying and hurtful to hear from Robby, but from Samira, your best friend of almost ten years, it made you nauseous.

“I just, I remember how badly you wanted it once. It was all we talked about. And now it’s like you’ve convinced yourself you never actually wanted it because you don’t want to get hurt again.” Samira said gently, “But you could still do it. You can do anything.”

She sounded so earnest, you wanted to believe her.

You sniffled and blended out your concealer, “I’m really proud of you, you know. I know sometimes I seem jealous, but—“

“I know that,” Samira said quickly, smiling at you in the mirror, “If the roles were reversed I’d be the same way. It doesn’t make you a bad friend.”

You gave her a watery smile, “You’re a really great friend for putting up with me all these years.”

Samira laughed and gently tugged at her waterline to apply eyeliner, “Please, I wouldn’t have survived med school without you.” She stopped smudging the eyeliner and met your eyes, “And when you get into med school, I’ll do the same for you.”

You inhaled slowly and purposefully, “When,” You murmured softly.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed the hope to bloom in your chest.

***

The bar was crowded and loud. The back of your hand was sticky from the lime and salt you had put there when you, Samira, Parker, and Trinity had done tequila shots. Javadi and Whitaker had had to drive back to Pittsburgh the day before, not able to get as many days off as the rest of you. Trevor had also headed out once you got back from the boating trip. He said he had work, but Samira had suspected he was just tired of watching you make out with Robby, which had gratified you a little bit.

“Another round?” Trinity asked, eyebrows raised.

“Slow your roll, Santos,” Parker put a hand on her shoulder, “I think we could do with a little break.”

“Robby’s been staring at you for the last twenty minutes.” Samira said, smirking. Robby was across the room behind you, you knew. Samira stood in front of you and could see him over your shoulder, “Why don’t you go talk to him?”

You had done about three or four tequila shots since arriving (you’d already lost count) and to say you were feeling it would be putting it mildly. You were starting to feel mildly apologetic for how you’d been handling your conversations with Robby the last couple of days, especially after talking to Samira earlier. But you weren’t ready to admit that yet. And, besides, you were having fun hanging out with the girls.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I’m having fun over here.”

Just then, the opening chords of Earth, Wind & Fire’s September started blaring through the speakers and you and Samira locked eyes.

“No way.” Samira giggled, shaking her head.

This song was very intrinsic to your friendship. It had played at a freshman orientation mixer and the two of you had been the only ones to sing along, embarrassingly loud and off key. It had bonded you. And from then on, it had become a siren song of sorts. Whenever you had been bickering (it was only natural after years of living together) one of you would play the song over the house speakers when you were ready to apologize. You had both been very studious in undergrad, but every so often after you turned twenty one, you could both be convinced to go out dancing and September was always requested of the DJ. So many of your happiest moments with Samira could be traced back to this song.

So you grabbed her hand, “Let’s go,” and dragged her to the dance floor.

Laughing, hands on each other’s shoulders, you danced badly and sang the lyrics loudly and ignored everyone else. You were often happiest when you were with Samira and the last couple of years back in California, you had forgotten that. She was your person, your lighthouse, the sister you never had, but always wanted. 

When the song was over, breathlessly and arms wrapped around each other still, you walked back over to Trinity and Parker. In your absence, Jack had joined them, sipping a whiskey and looked at both you and Samira with amusement on his face.

Samira detached from you as you got closer and slid into Jack’s arms instead. You watched as he pressed his mouth to her ear, whispering something only she could hear and the smile on her face widened.

With Jack here, you couldn’t help but wonder what Robby was up to now and turned your head towards the direction you last saw him. He was still there, leaning against the bar and sipping a drink–

But there was a woman next to him, now, smiling at him with her hand on his forearm. You were drunk, and so there was a part of your brain that registered whatever you were feeling watching another woman touching him was overblown. But it didn’t soothe the twisting feeling you felt in your chest when you saw him laugh at something she had said. And he hadn’t removed his arm from her touch. 

She was older than you, you could see that much. Probably around forty or so, someone more acceptable for him. Someone people wouldn’t look at and wonder if he was her father or not. She was gorgeous in a red dress that hugged her curves tightly and curly hair that fell past her shoulders. It was likely she had her life together, knew what she wanted to do with it and didn’t let childish insecurities get in the way. She probably knew how to be vulnerable with someone else without feeling like they were attacking her.

You couldn’t say how long you were staring before you heard Jack call your name. When you turned, he had a sympathetic look on his face, “Don’t let that get to you, alright?” He said, eyes following your gaze, “If you just go talk to him, he’s yours, I promise.”

Samira was still in his arms, her brow furrowed with worry as she watched you.

You looked back at Robby and the older woman and saw he had covered her hand on his forearm with his own, thumb stroking back and forth over her skin.

There was a roaring in your ears when you turned back to the table, “Mira, I think I’m gonna throw up.” You said as you braced your hands on the high top table you were all gathered around.

Immediately, you felt her hand on your back and she lowered her head until she met your gaze, “Do you want some ice?” You shook your head, no.

“You know what I would do if I were you?” Trinity said, tossing the ice from her now empty drink into her mouth.

“She’s about to give the most unhinged advice you’ve ever heard.” Samira said, sighing.

Trinity seemed unfazed by Samira’s criticism and barrelled ahead anyway, “I would go in the bathroom, take an awesome picture of my tits, and text it to him. He goes to check his phone: boom, breasts. Instant boner.” She shrugged, “It works on sapphic women, anyway.”

Parker nodded behind her, “Yeah, that would work on me.”

You blinked blankly at them and looked at Samira, who, frighteningly, was not shooting down the idea.

Jack sighed, “If you just talk to him instead of playing these games–”

“Girls,” You said, standing up straight, “Let’s take a trip to the bathroom.”

***

Robby was trying to make you jealous. He realized the immaturity of it, that he was resorting to tactics he suspected you would employ yourself, but he couldn’t help it. Something about you made him feel like a college kid again, pining after the prettiest sorority girl who wouldn’t give him the time of day. 

He just wanted to talk to you. He had pushed too hard, like he tended to do. Giving tough love for a situation that maybe required gentler hands and a more receptive headspace. He didn’t think what he said had been wrong, exactly, but maybe it had been a bit harsher than he intended. And he would apologize for that. Once you admitted he was right.

But in the meantime, he couldn’t stand by any longer watching you dance around drunk in a too short dress that cupped your breasts just right and left your bare back exposed to the humid August air.

The fact that the woman was older, more age appropriate perhaps, truly hadn’t even crossed his mind. He hadn't intended to hurt you when he indulged her flirting, just maybe make you a little territorial so that you’d finally stop pretending like he wasn’t in the same room as you.

When he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and pulled it out, he honestly thought it was probably someone at the Pitt, asking some obscure admin related question.

It was a number outside of his contacts and he frowned at that before swiping it open–

And being absolutely blown away by the sight of your tits on his screen. It looked like you had taken it in the bathroom, the straps from your dress pushed down your shoulders so the fabric pooled at your waist. Your nipples were hardened, likely from the cold air of the AC in the bathroom.

Underneath the picture you had typed: do you wanna lick them? also open to some light nibbling if ur in the mood

He barked out a laugh and locked his phone, cracking his neck from side to side as he turned his attention back to the woman in front of him, apologizing for the interruption. He would not be won over so easily, despite the way he felt the blood rushing south and between his legs at the thought of your tits in his mouth. 

He was tired of you using sex to avoid deep conversation. He hadn’t been sure what he wanted from you when he got here, but he had decided since that it was more than just fucking. He wouldn’t settle for just easing the ache between your legs whenever you felt like it.

A few moments later, his phone buzzed again. Robby wanted to ignore it. If you wanted him, you could come over here and say so. But in the end, you won, and he picked up his phone again.

I’m not wearing any panties.

He squeezed his eyes shut and sighed deeply as he locked his phone.

“Is everything alright?”

He opened his eyes and looked at the woman in front of him, “Yeah, sorry, I, uh–” He lifted his phone, “I just have to take care of something, would you excuse me?”

Robby was already walking towards where he last saw you before the woman could reply. You were still there, looking smug as you bit on the straw of a long empty drink and stared at him. When he got to you, he wordlessly took the drink from your hand, dropped it on the table, and then secured a hand around your wrist before he began walking again, you trailing behind.

Once outside the bar, he checked for people before backing you against the wall, relishing in your little gasp when your back hit the brick. He kissed you hard and with all the annoyance he felt, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and biting down until you yelped. He began to pull away, to see if he had actually hurt you, but before he could get more than a few centimeters away, you crashed your mouth back into his.

He palmed your breast through the fabric of your dress and sighed when he felt the peak of your nipple. He needed to know if you had been serious about not wearing panties. The dress was fairly short, and it was loose and flowy from your waist down, so it would have been quite the risk. 

Robby spread your legs with his knee before reaching one of his hands between your thighs and up your dress. You were soaked and there was not a scrap of fabric to be found. He groaned into your mouth as he ran a finger down your folds, sucking your whimpers into his mouth like oxygen. 

He was so enamored, he nearly forgot that he was absolutely under no circumstances supposed to be doing this until the two of you could have a real conversation–

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. That’s right, he wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

He pulled away from you so abruptly, that when your mouth moved to chase his, you leaned over so far you lost your balance and he had to steady you.

“Too much to drink?” He asked, hands on your arms to keep you upright.

“What the fuck?” You whined.

When he thought there was no longer any danger of you falling over, he leaned away and shoved his hands in his pockets, “I told you, there are only so many times I’ll allow you to use sex to avoid having an actual conversation.”

You pouted, “Then why did you come out here?”

He shrugged, “Temporary breach of sanity,” His eyes wandered down to your chest and he swallowed, “Provoked by a perfect pair of tits.”

You poked your tongue out between your teeth, “You think they’re perfect?”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Is this all you want from me? Because if it is, I need to know now.”

You frowned, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Is this just fucking to you?” He gestured to the space between you, “Is that all I am, just a good fuck?”

You reddened, “I–I don’t know, isn’t that what you want?”

“No,” He shook his head, “No, I–” He ran a hand over the back of his head, “I think I want more than that. I want–I want you. All of you. Not just a piece.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head slightly, “What about that woman at the bar?”

“I was just trying to make you jealous.”

You worried your lower lip between your teeth, “But she’s older and probably better at this whole thing and won’t send you a picture of her tits instead of apologizing.” 

You said it all in a rush and he gave you a small smile, “There are worse ways to apologize.”

“It’s not funny, Robby, I’m not good at this,” You threw up your hands in exasperation, “You’re right, I avoid anything that’s difficult, anything I’m worried I’ll fail at and–” You blinked rapidly, your eyes glinting wet with unshed tears, “And I’m terrified of disappointing you.”

He tilted his head and took a step to you, reaching a hand out to gently cradle your cheek in his palm, “Sweetheart, as long as you’re actually trying, you’re never going to disappoint me.”

Your breathing wavered slightly and you turned your head to kiss his palm, “I want to go to med school.” You said softly. It was a small concession, not quite an apology, but close enough.

“I know.” He pulled you to his chest and kissed the top of your head. His hands slid to either side of your neck and he tilted your head up so he could kiss you properly, the taste of tequila still on your tongue, “You ready to go back inside?”

You nodded and let him lead you back by the hand, smiling to yourself when his thumb stroked reassuring circles on the back of your hand. He kept a hand on you, whether it was on your hand, arm, hip, or thigh, for the rest of the night. The woman at the bar looked a bit miffed when she finally left, but Robby didn’t notice. He was too busy watching you.

***

The humidity was suffocating as you packed your bags in the back of your Yaris. You were dripping with sweat just from the walk from the house to the car. It was likely even hotter in Pittsburgh, a thought that had you second guessing why you had left Los Angeles in the first place. It may have been a desert, but at least it didn’t feel like you were drowning when you were outside.

“You got everything?” Robby came up behind you as you were closing your trunk, hands settling on your hips.

“Yep,” You spun in his arms once the trunk was shut. His face was red from the heat as well, skin damp with sweat, “You?”

“Think I’m just missing my… What do the kids call it? Passenger princess?” He leaned into you and pressed kisses to the side of your neck, making you giggle and push him away when he playfully bit the sensitive skin there.

“I told you,” You laughed, “I’m driving my own car.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be so loud with that useless muffler. You’re gonna hate it. Just let me call someone to tow it–”

“No,” You shook your head adamantly, “Thank you for offering, but no thank you.”

He sighed, “What if I said I just don’t want to drive back to Pittsburgh by myself?”

You smiled and kissed him. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of the taste of him, the feel of his beard against your skin, “We have plans to see each other two days from now. Aren’t you sick of me?”

He shook his head, “Not even close.” He kissed your forehead, “But, fine. Enjoy your drive, don’t come crying to me for an ENT referral when you rupture your eardrums.”

You laughed as he turned away from you, “That’s a bit dramatic, I think.”

He only shrugged as he headed to his own car and you headed to your driver’s side. Sliding into the hot seat, you put your key in the ignition and turned– There was a whine from the car, but no turnover. Frowning, you tried again. And again. And–

“Oh no,” Robby opened your driver’s side, “Looks like your car won’t start.”

You turned to scowl at him, “Did you do this?”

He laughed, “Of course not. But I can’t say I’m not a little pleased.”

You leaned your head against the steering wheel, “I can’t afford this.” You murmured. And it was true. Even after working at the new job for a while, you were still regaining your footing from all the moving costs.

“It’s probably just a dead battery or bad alternator. I’ll fix it when we get back.”

You looked up at him, “That’s too much.”

But he was already shaking his head, “I like doing it. Both working with cars and helping you. Now get in my car, please, so we can go home.”

It was strange, this feeling you got now when looking at him. When he was kind and generous with you, but had no ulterior motive. You had never met anyone like him. It had only been a week, and you had never been in love before, but you thought this must be what it felt like. When you were just on the precipice of it.

You got out of your car and rose on your toes to kiss him, “Thank you,” You whispered in his mouth.

“Get a room,” Jack teased as he walked outside, Samira in tow.

When you saw her you broke from Robby and went to wrap her up in a hug instead, “Thank you for inviting me, Mira.” You said into her shoulder.

Her arms tightened around you, “I’m just glad to have you back on the east coast.” She looked over your shoulder towards Robby, “And I’m glad that I’m such a good matchmaker.”

You laughed, “Yeah, if he’s ever mean to you again, you let me know.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” She pulled away, “You’re on speed dial.”

Robby kept a hand on your thigh for most of the ride back to Pittsburgh, stroking a soothing pattern with his thumb until you were half asleep. The subtle smell of cherries was in his nose the entire drive back and when he occasionally looked back over at you, asleep in his passenger seat, he thought he finally understood what Jack had said to him when he started dating Samira.

It’s like I’ve been asleep at the wheel and she took it from my hands. I don’t wonder why I keep going anymore, I know it’s because she’s keeping me from veering off the road.

He certainly was no expert at relationships, but you made him want to try if it meant it would extend this feeling in his chest when he looked at you. Like everything would be okay as long as you were happy and breathing next to him.

He wasn’t sure if he loved you yet, but he was sure that he desperately wanted to find out. 

[aliceintvland]

ok tsunami watch in LA……..sick

[aliceintvland]

PLS send me requests

im avoiding writing this fic and want to do sexy drabbles/hcs xoxo

[aliceintvland]

Idk if your inbox is still open but for the prompts dumbification, spit kink, praise kink PLEATHE

oh YEAH this might be the nastiest thing i've ever written

18+ NSFW, all of the above plus some spanking, degradation, hair pulling, aftercare.

"Before we actually start," Robby looks down at you as you sit on the edge of the bed, all wide-eyed and open-mouthed, fighting the urge to stick his cock in your mouth right then. "I want to say a few things."

He kneels so you're eye level, his strong hand cupping your face. You instinctively go to suck his thumb, pouting a bit when he pulls it away.

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, smirking a bit before going back to his serious face. "Not yet, eager one. I'm talking."

"Okay," you nod, reassuring him you're fully present. "I'm listening."

"You are my smartest resident," he kisses your cheek after he speaks, holding your face so you have to meet his eye line. "Okay? And I'm not just saying that because I love you. You're a fucking genius."

"I know," you nod, aware you're living up to the stereotype of self-aggrandizing doctors. "Michael, I want this. Save the sweet talk for afterward."

It had started about a week ago when you had agreed to hop on the night shift for a few days to cover some slack. Being on opposite schedules made things difficult, especially in the first month of living together, to find time.

It was no secret to you that he would indulge in porn sometimes, especially on the nights he was alone and couldn't get to the finish line without you there. It wasn't something you cared about.

In fact, you had teased him about it, begging him to show you his favorites, cackling at the redness on his face when you finally snatched his phone out of his hand.

"Amateur," you said out loud, scrolling through as he watched you with a half mortified, half amused look on his face. "Okay, boring."

"Fingering," you shrug. "None of this is exciting."

"Spanking," you wiggled your ass for good measure. "Not surprised by that one, you dirty old man."

"Watch it or you'll get one," he growled lowly.

One in particular caught your eye, your eyebrows flicking upward with intrigue. You turned the phone to show him the video.

"Interesting," is all you said, turning the phone to reveal the video, tone neutral. "Would NOT have guessed this. Considering all you do is tell me how smart I am."

"I-uh, I guess I was curious," he stumbled over his words, breathing out a sigh of relief when you tossed the phone aside and crawled back onto the bed, straddling him. "Oh? Does that do it for you too, honey?"

"I'm not sure," you shrugged, answering honestly. "It might be nice to shut my brain off for a bit."

"It is always working so damn hard," he murmured, grabbing your jaw and kissing you, all tongue and teeth.

"We should try it soon," you had offered.

Which is how you found yourself in your current position: half naked, dripping wet from an hour of making out, frustrated, and getting a lecture from your boyfriend.

"And the second you don't like something, we stop," he says firmly, and you nod. "Tell me you want this."

"You know I do," you half giggle, putting a hand behind his neck.

"Say it."

"I want this," you respond softly, eyes wide with anticipation. Robby nods, placing a kiss on your forehead, standing up again. "Let me be your dumb slut for a night."

He takes a shaky breath, looking at you again as if to gauge your eyes for any uncertainty. It's not there--just hunger, desperation, and a desire to be turned into his little toy.

"Kneel," he says gruffly, unbuttoning his pants and stepping out of them. You obey of course, scooting off the bed and onto the floor beneath him. Instinctively, you start palming him through his boxers, only for him to grab you by the hair roughly. "That desperate for me? I don't remember giving you permission to do that."

"I'm sorry," you fall into your role, small and submissive. Everything you usually aren't, except for with him.

"It's okay angel," his answer surprises you. "I know listening to directions isn't your thing, huh? Gets confusing sometimes."

You nod, squeezing your thighs together, acutely aware of the way your hole throbs when he talks down to you like this.

"Show me how sorry you are," he responds, pulling his cock out, pumping it a few times. "Go ahead. Put it in your mouth, angel."

Obliging, you lick a stripe up the bottom of his shaft, taking the hint when he tugs on your hair. Starting with his tip, you bring him between your lips, slowly taking his impressive length deeper.

"All you know how to think about is cock, huh?" he taunts you, hips rutting forward. Robby lets out a guttural noise when you gag at the intrusion. "That's my good girl, take it all."

You can tell he's getting close, the way his lower stomach contracts and his grip on your hair tightens are all the clues you need. Opening your throat, you take him further, gagging and drooling, making more noises than you probably need to.

But he's living for it.

"Alright enough," he finally snaps out of it, pulling you off of him and lifting you up by the arms. You grin at him, spit and pre-cum glossing your lips. He grabs you by the cheeks, forcing your lips apart and spits in your mouth.

Robby steps forward, his cock throbbing and red, and lovingly pets your hair. But there's a condescending look in his eye, like you're a weak baby animal.

"What exactly is it you want, huh?" he practically coos, hand slipping beneath your lacy underwear. "Do you even know what you want?"

"No," you say weakly. "I just want you."

"That's right, sweetheart," Robby's fingers circle your dripping hole, not quite pushing in, watching intently as your lip trembles. "You don't know what you want. You need me to tell you, right?"

"Uh huh," you gasp as he pushes two fingers into you, curling slowly and pressing against your walls. You can feel your legs shake, looking up at him with desperate eyes as he thumbs your clit.

"Not much to say now, huh? All of those thoughts out of that pretty little head of yours suddenly?"

Robby pulls his fingers out of you, bringing them to your mouth and humming in satisfaction when you suck hungrily. He all but pushes you back onto the bed, sliding your panties down your waist and reaching under you to unhook your bra.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, mouth meeting yours ravenously, sucking your tongue as you run your fingers through his beard. He pulls back, spitting in your mouth again, slowly letting the saliva drip down.

"You're so pretty like this," he pulls back, glancing down to admire your naked frame. "All dumb and cock drunk for me, yeah?"

"All for you," your voice is broken, softer than usual. It practically makes him growl. "Please, Michael."

He runs his hand along your cheek, and part of you prays he'll slap you-and you can see the thought crosses his mind too. But you happily accept his fingers in your mouth as he lines up with your entrance.

Pushing into you, he hovers above, elbows supporting his frame.

"You'd do anything I asked you to when you get like this," he taunts, sloppily kissing the corner of your mouth as you whine. "Look at you drooling, my mindless little whore."

As the filthy words leave his mouth, your whining grows more wretched. Robby stops his thrusts, a glimmer of mischief in his eye as he pulls out of you completely, chuckling at your pathetic noises.

He stands up and reaches into the nightstand, pulling out your vibrator. You squirm in anticipation as he tosses it down next to you, grabbing you by the hips and turning you over.

"Hands and knees," he instructs, and you oblige like always, squeaking when he lands a sharp smack on your ass. "Good girl, listening to directions. I didn't know you could do that, angel."

He grabs the little pink bullet, small but mighty, powering it on and teasing your hole before wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing it on your clit. He pushes back into you, not needing to warm you up at all, grunting at the way you clench around him.

He leans forward, pressing a kiss on your arm as he thrusts, sharp and deep, the vibrator moving in unforgiving circles on your swollen clit.

"Fuck," you whimper, clawing at the pillow beneath you, cunt seizing around him as he hits you in just the right spot. "Gonna cum."

"Oh are you now?" he slows his pace, though you can tell by the way he's growing less rhythmic that he's on his way there too. Robby nips at your shoulder, pressing harder on your clit. "My mindless little girl just wants to cum. It's all you think about, huh?"

"It's all I fucking think about," you cry out into the pillow, and he growls, satisfied at your desperation.

"Alright baby," he hisses. "Let go for me."

You feel the pent up knot sitting in your lower stomach dissipate, sending shockwaves through your system. Legs shaking, tears leaking out of the corner of your eyes, you scream his name like a prayer-broken and repetitive.

He follows behind, spilling into you as his movements slow, sputtering to a stop. Tossing the vibrator aside, he languidly pulls out of you, leaning back to admire the way his spend drips from your used hole.

"Fuuuuucking hell," he whispers, almost to himself, pushing two fingers inside of you. He chuckles when you squirm. "Alright, I know, honey."

As you lay flat on your stomach, Robby puts his boxers back on, heading to grab a damp towel. He wipes you attentively, placing a gentle kiss on your lower back before he turns you over and hands you one of his shirts.

"Help me," you practically whine, head still dizzy from the intensity of the sex. He nods kindly, telling you to lift your arms before draping the fabric over your head.

"Come on," he holds his hand out. "Bathroom."

Groaning, but realizing he's right, you let him pull you up, holding you tightly against his chest. Robby presses a kiss on the top of your head, tender and loving.

He doesn't care that you don't say much, leaning against the counter and examining your face for any regret. But you're still in your own world, mind hazy and legs weak.

When you finish peeing, he helps you up, bending over to help you step into your panties. He guides you back to the bed, tucking you in and smiling sweetly when you tug on his arm as he turns.

"I'm just going to fill your Stanley," he promises, returning not even a minute later. He crawls into bed, brings the straw to your mouth, and puts it back on the nightstand. "How are you feeling, angel?"

"Really good," is all you can say. "I really like being your dumb little whore, Michael."

"Jesus," he chuckles, placing a chaste kiss to your swollen lips. "I love you so much, you know that right?"

"Mmmm."

"And you're the most brilliant doctor I've ever worked with," he runs his fingers through your hair, pulling you onto his chest. You nod up at him, a hazy smile on your face. "Okay?"

"You did great," you tell him, to which he shrugs bashfully. "Seriously. I felt so safe the whole time."

"You were," he promises. "You always are with me, angel."

Robby grins at the peaceful expression on your face as your eyes flutter closed, hand reaching for his. He kisses your wrist, closing his own eyes, hand lazily rubbing your hair.

"My beautiful, brilliant girl."

[aliceintvland]

writing a filthy nasty dirty disgusting robby fic<3 life is worth living<3

[aliceintvland]

Im……………….at a loss for words (positive)

how easy you are to need - part 3

MICHAEL ‘ROBBY’ ROBINAVITCH x F!READER

<< part 2 ||

Summary: You accidentally send some very compromising pictures (and a particularly filthy video) to your boss/attending/crush. Chaos follows and, along with it, a very pleasant surprise.

wc: 6.7k

Warnings: f!reader, explicit sexual content, short talk about limits!, a couple mentions of hair pulling, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasms, crying during sex (from being overwhelmed), dirty talk, choking, oral, possessive behaviors, they’re a little too into each other, so many em-dashes and italics and sentence fragments

A/N: thank you guys for being so dang patient with this. I hope you love it <33

He looks fucking ridiculous driving your small car. Or he would if he wasn't so hot doing it. He reverses out of your spot in that way, arm thrown over the back of your seat as he glances over his shoulder, turning the wheel with the palm of his hand.

It’s not fucking fair. He’s already made you cum, but you’re still so pent up. Everything he does makes you want to scream, and it’s even worse right now as your sticky shorts stay plastered to you, panties warm and slick with your previous orgasm.

“Uh uh, keep those on,” Robby had commanded as soon as he saw you go for the waist band.

“Why?”

“Because I told you to.”

Just a reminder of what’s already happened and what hasn’t yet. Another way he’s exerting control, bending you a little further, a little further, and probably getting off on how you keep letting him.

His arms are long enough that he has no trouble reaching you, an elbow on the center console and a hand on your thigh, you squirm under the touch and stare at Robby with big, hopeful eyes.

You just—you want to feel him again. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. God, you want his cock inside of you so bad, you’re going to have a mental breakdown.

“Almost there,” Robby hums, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

A part of you is worried that your desperation is more pathetic to him than it is satisfying or encouraging, but you can’t help it. This desire has been building for what feels like forever, and now that you’ve had a taste, you want more. So much more. If you could live with Robby’s hands on your body 24/7, you’d do so happily.

It’s hard to take in the neighborhood he turns into, even harder to appreciate the house he pulls up to. One-story, dark exterior, forgot to turn on the porch light for himself. That’s about all you gather before basically falling through the threshold behind him.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Robby huffs on a laugh. One of his arms wraps around your middle while he locks the front door, then slowly begins walking backward. “We need to have a talk before going any further.”

You have to chomp down on your lip to stop yourself from whining like a child.

“Couldn’t we have talked in the car?”

Robby, holding your hips, leads you to his couch and sits. When you try to climb into his lap, he shakes his head and pats the cushion beside him.

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and you can tell by the way his jaw slides to the side, misaligned as he taps his teeth together.

Taking a breath, you nod, “okay,” flex your hands and sit down, “okay, I’m here, I’m listening.” Blinking a few times, you push away all the lust fogging your brain and give Robby every ounce of your attention.

He sounds soft as he thanks you then fucking decimates your focus all over again when he runs a thumb over your chin, eyes wide and honest when he tells you, “there are so many deplorable fucking things I want to do to you, and I mean fucking vile—”

“Get to the point,” you grit, the nails of one hand leaving marks on your own thigh while you raise your other to display the fingers you have pinched together, “‘cause I am about this close to assaulting you, I swear to God.”

“I’ve been trying to keep from doing the same thing all fucking day,” he laughs like he enjoys the idea, “which is why we gotta talk about limits.”

You want to be in his lap, you want to be pressed against him, you want your legs around him, you want to choke around him—

“Limits,” you parrot, and it’s disgusting how breathless you already are.

He nods, lips quirked up as he leans forward, teasing you with the idea that he might kiss you—might let you kiss him.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, so I need to know exactly what you’re okay with.”

You swallow, nod, eyes still on his mouth.

“I’ll make it quick. Promise.”

“How ‘bout I just give you a list,” you offer, and something in his expression changes. It’s subtle, but it’s there—the slight arch to his eyebrows, the way his little smile twitches.

He doesn’t agree, doesn’t approve. No, Robby demands, “tell me,” as the fingers on your chin tighten.

Oh. He doesn’t… he doesn’t like the fact that you already know what you enjoy. He doesn’t like that you’ve done things.

And, just like that, he’s revealed all his cards, showed you how to push him, what’ll drive him crazy the way he’s driven you crazy for the last several hours.

It’s difficult not to smile at this ammo, but it is extremely fucking easy to slide into Robby’s lap this time. He lets you, opens himself up then grips you a little too hard, thumbs pressing into the hollows of your hips.

“Getting a little rough is more than okay. Some hair pulling, light slapping,” you emphasize because you experienced getting fucking backhanded once and immediately shoved the dude off of you, left his apartment as soon as the cartoon birds stopped circling your head.

“Spit, spanking,” you wave a hand a little dismissively, “you can talk shit, but I respond better to praise.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not great at degradation.”

The fact that he knows the actual word for it makes you shiver, yet you still sass, “wouldn’t have guessed after how mean you’ve been today.”

Robby chuckles, brushes a strand of hair from your forehead and mumbles, “degrading you and being mean—” he squeezes your hip with his other hand, and you gasp when he digs into that divot inside of your hipbone just like you knew he would, “—are two very different things.”

You buck where you sit, a sideways smile spreading across your face as you test him a little further, “found out a couple months ago that I like being choked as long as it’s done the right way.”

Robby’s fingers slide down your temple, your jaw, until they wrap around your throat.

It sounds like he’s grinding his teeth, replying with a low, “guess it’s a good thing I’m a doctor, then,” putting the barest amount of pressure on both of your carotid arteries.

The sound you make, a quick, “a-haa,” is somewhere between a laugh and a moan, growing louder when Robby starts rubbing your pussy through your drenched shorts.

“Might not have trouble with degrading you after all.” He squeezes your neck a little harder and gruffs, “keep going.”

Gladly.

“I like messy…” your voice isn’t quite as strong as before, the hint of a rasp from the weight against your throat, “‘m’on birth control… want—you to cum inside…”

“Fuck,” Robby hisses, raising his hips enough to grind his covered cock against your ass. “You want me to fill this pussy with my cum?”

You nod to the best of your ability, “h-however many… times you can.”

“God dammit—” your back hits the couch cushions so fast it makes your head spin, the effect worsened by the hand in your hair and teeth in your neck, and then Robby starts naming whatever kink or boundary he can think of.

“Blindfolds.”

“Yes, yes, God.”

“Overstimulation.”

“Please.”

“Breathplay.”

“Didn’t I—mm—say I liked being choked?”

He runs his nose up your neck, growls in your ear, “with my cock down your throat?”

You writhe beneath him, scratch down the back of his head, whimper and beg, “please—fuck, Robby, please…”

“Fisting.”

“Never tried it,” you tell him honestly, “but I’m not—hnn—not opposed.”

“Some other time. Tonight’s not about fucking experimenting.”

“Yeah, it’s about fucking me, so why haven’t you?”

Robby pulls your head to the side with a little yank of your hair— “soon,” and your mouth drops open.

Jesus, his eyes are almost black. Cheeks flushed, lips shining with spit, Adam’s apple bobbing, Robby sounds like he’s panting when he asks, “can I make you cry?”

You cannot believe this is the same man you work with every day. The man who taught you to put in a chest tube and reset broken bones; he looks like he’s about two seconds away from tearing your throat out, and you’re about two seconds away from letting him.

“If I’m not by the end of the night, I’m gonna be very disappointed,” you tease.

Robby’s familiar little smile returns temporarily, and you run a hand over his face, enjoying the feeling of the coarse hair under your palm while stroking his cheekbone.

For a short time, you’re both able to find at least some sanity, long enough for Robby to tell you, “I want to make you feel so fucking good tonight,” and place a light kiss on your lips, “so you’ve gotta tell me if something’s too much.”

“I will,” you assure.

There’s a crease between his eyebrows and you move to smooth it away.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

It comes out as a confession. Fuck, it is a confession. Having you pinned under him like this, how it felt to have his hand around your throat, knowing you’re ready to beg for all of this and more—

Robby realizes he could very easily hurt you, and part of him wants to.

Within reason.

But, you challenge him. The night has already proven that his rationality is fickle when it comes to you. He knows who he is most of the time, but right now, with you, Robby is someone else—something else. Entirely.

These thoughts are running through his head, and he still has you beneath him, still looking up at him with those eyes and gently scratching through the hair on his cheek, and Robby wants to worship you and defile you at the same time, wants to cover every inch of your soft skin with tender kisses but leave scratches and bite marks in their wake.

“I still need to shower,” he says out of nowhere, statement tumbling from his mouth without his permission, but it’s honestly a good thing. He needs to clear his head a little bit before really getting started.

Robby will lose himself in you tonight; he has absolutely no fucking doubt about that, but he wants to feel every second of it, and he won’t be able to do that if he just rips into you like some kind of animal.

So, he shows you to his bedroom, grabs a pair of boxer briefs while he’s in there, then steps in close to you again. He doesn’t stoop or duck, stays standing straight and speaks into the crown of your head, “just a few minutes. Make yourself comfortable,” then after a single beat, “don’t you dare fucking touch yourself.”

There’s that expression again—the one you keep getting when you want to yank him down for a kiss. Robby can’t let that happen right now, though, otherwise he’ll never take that shower, and he’ll end up balls deep inside of you way faster than planned.

Scrub, lather, rinse, repeat. Robby stands under the spray of the shower, letting the water ground him for a few extra minutes before shutting it off.

That frenzied feeling inside of him is more of a distant screech in the back of his head now—fucking tinnitus, the way it rings. He doesn’t exactly feel clear, still a bit dazed, but more contained than before.

The thought of you in his bed waiting for him has Robby’s blood pumping, simmering beneath his skin and ablating new pathways to his heart.

He’s… this is happening. He’s going to do this. Robby is finally gonna get his hands on you, get you underneath him, get you to cum with his name on the tip of your tongue, and thank fucking god, ‘cause he isn’t sure how much longer he would’ve been able to hold out while seeing you every day.

He’s smiling by the time he steps back into his room, but when he sees you there on his bed, that smile drops.

In nothing but those cute, wet panties, you stare at him in question.

Is this okay? Is this too much? Am I too much? like you’re scared of messing this up.

If you had any idea—fuck, if you had the slightest fucking clue about what you do to him…

You look gorgeous on display like this, sitting with your legs dangling off the side of the bed, leaning back on locked arms to show him your pretty tits, and your legs aren’t completely spread, but there’s enough of a gap between your thighs that Robby can catch a glimpse of the place your panties are see-through, plastered to heated skin, and just like that, he falls back into that frenzy.

Whatever abyssal fucking sound that vibrates out of Robby’s throat now must sound like a threat because your whole body shivers, lips parting in a gasp, and you actually start to pull yourself further up the bed.

He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but Robby’s hand shoots out to wrap around your calf before he can stop it. In one last moment of clarity, he reads your expression, sees anticipation not fear, arousal over overwhelm, and once he’s sure you’re okay, he shoves you flat on your back, uses his arms as a cage, then descends on you.

And, like a true predator, Robby eats you alive.

He’s got his fingers digging into the plush of your ass and his teeth sunken into the flesh just below your ribcage, and you’re pulling his hair and undulating beneath him, crying pleasepleaseplease as if he’s already three fingers deep in your pussy.

Actually, why isn’t he?

Robby mouths over your panties, tasting you through the thin material before pulling them over your hips and off the rest of the way. A hand on each of your knees, he spreads you wide open, sighs reverently at what he sees. You’re so slick and twitchy and puffy from excessive blood flow, and Robby can’t help himself, has to dip forward to run his nose up the seam of your thigh then nuzzles into your cunt.

It forces an airy, incredulous laugh from you, and Robby barely hears you tease, “… such a freak…” as he kisses and licks and smacks and sucks. That little laugh turns into a shaky moan when he wraps his lips around your swollen clit and pushes his middle finger inside of you until his knuckles are flush against you.

This is not a ‘take it slow’ situation. This is a ‘been waiting for years, wanna make you cum until you’re crying’ situation, which is why Robby is quick to start fucking his finger into you, flicking over your clit with his tongue, eyes focused on what he can see of your face.

A thought careens straight into him, and Robby detaches himself from you just so that he can tell you before he forgets, “don’t worry about how long it takes. I could fucking live down here, got it?”

He’s still pumping his finger in and out, watching how your chest spasms with every shuddering breath you take.

“Understand?” he tries again, and you nod.

Unfortunately, Robby can be a tiny bit of a sadist, and he really wants to hear you gasp and stutter for him, so he prompts, “say it, sweetheart. Tell me you understand.”

“I—” your voice immediately breaks when he slides a second finger in. “I-I—understa… I understand,” you huff, and Robby rewards you by angling to rub relentlessly over your g-spot, “ohhhfuck.”

Pressing his smile and a kiss to your thigh, he picks up his pace and praises, “there we go, good fucking girl…”

Dripping into his hand and over his wrist, you start to leak even more when he suctions himself to your clit again.

And, Robby wasn’t lying; he could stay right here all goddamn night (would love to, actually), but after just a few minutes of abusing that special spot and doing his absolute best to suck and lick over your clit (with frankly impressive precision, thank you), your back slowly arches off the bed, toes curling into his sheets.

This time, you say his name like a prayer, but by the end of the night, he’s sure to have you spitting it like a curse.

“Okay… okay, fuck—okay,” you pant, twitching and whimpering every time he flicks his tongue over your clit now. Robby gives you maybe thirty seconds to catch your breath, gently licks at the sensitive bud and lulls you into a false sense of security before sucking it into his mouth again and humming with glee when you squeal.

A hand in his hair, you squirm on the bed, but Robby has his arms wrapped around each of your thighs, keeping you spread open for him to devour as he damn well pleases.

You truly have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Never would’ve let him do this if you knew how badly he’s wanted it.

But, here you are, in his grip, back bowing, head thrashing, choked off moans and sobs as Robby drags one more orgasm out of you, quite literally kicking and screaming.

You’re shivering like it’s below zero in the room, nervous system in hyperdrive as little noises slip past your teeth with every aftershock. Robby shushes you as gently as possible, crawls up your frame then lays to the side so that he can pull you to him and squeeze—apply a bit of deep pressure to bring you back to baseline.

“I’ve got you, deep breaths.”

He’s reminded once again that you’ve never done this before. Or really, you’ve never allowed anyone to do this for you. You’ve never been flayed open like this, at the mercy of somebody else. Nobody has ever taken the time.

But you’re letting him. You’re trusting him.

So, it’s sorta fucked up that all he wants to do is see how far you’ll let him push you.

“You tell me when you’re ready to keep going or if you wanna stop, yeah?”

You nod, your breathing starting to even out, one hand finding his face and stroking over his jawline like it’s somehow soothing you instead of him.

As you come back to yourself, Robby scans the room for your bag, the few toys you brought. It’s unlikely he’ll use everything tonight, but he’s certainly not finished with them after that one orgasm at your apartment.

“Okay,” you murmur, eyes finding Robby as you say a little firmer, “okay,” then make him bark a laugh when you add, so fucking matter-of-factly, “I wanna suck your cock now.”

Everything that’s happened today, and you still manage to make him blush like a goddamn virgin.

“We-he-ell,” he drawls, laughing through the syllable, “I’m not about to stop you—” you’re moving before he can finish, the hand on his face scratching down the hair on his chest until it’s low enough to palm Robby through his boxer-briefs.

He grunts, rocks into your touch and catches you in a scalding kiss until you giggle quietly.

“Just what are you laughin’ at?” Robby mumbles, his own mouth turning up at the corners.

You hum and squeeze his cock so that he groans deep in his throat, then tell him, “you’re getting my hand messy with pre-cum,” so fucking smug.

Robby has absolutely no shame about it, openly admits with a chuckle, “baby, this is not the first time you’ve made my dick leak. Only difference is that this time I’m not surrounded by heart attacks and blunt force trauma.”

“Hot,” you snort, give another squeeze before shoving your hand past his waistband.

The feeling of your fingers wrapping around his cock makes Robby lightheaded, then he gets dangerously fucking dizzy when you moan. Faces too close, he can’t take in many details about your eyes, but he can see how hazy they are, glassy but honest when you murmur, “‘ve wanted to touch you like this for so fucking long.”

“Jeeesus Christ.”

You've got about three seconds to enjoy this before Robby catches your wrist and forces it away to remind you, “thought you said you wanted to suck.” You grin like you’re drunk, nod, but when you move to slide downward, Robby stops you.

“I’ve seen you multitask before.” You let out a confused noise and raise an eyebrow, so he elaborates, “only way you get to do this” —get to, like he’s rewarding you— “is if you’re sitting on my face the whole time.”

Whining, you argue, “I wanna make you feel good. You’ve already made me cum three times.”

He pulls his head back to get a better look at you, takes your chin between his fingers. “Yeah, and you’re gonna keep cumming for me until you can’t anymore.”

Robby wishes he could record all the surprised gasps he continues to pull from you, like he just keeps knocking the air from your lungs, and every time you get this adorable expression on your face, lips parting, eyes widening, fingers clutching at whatever you’re closest to. He never wants it to stop.

Without breaking eye contact, Robby moves to slide his boxers down, nodding in the general direction of your bag and telling you, “grab what you need” (what he needs) “—and go rinse them off.” He’s actually kind of proud of himself for reminding you to grab the toy cleaner in your bathroom ‘cause you sure weren’t going to, not exactly in a state of logical thinking.

You do as told, though not before Robby pulls you in for another filthy kiss, and then he has the pleasure of watching you scamper out then back into his bedroom, and something about seeing you holding that goddamn dildo and a vibrator in your hands makes Robby warm all over.

He’s not sure he’s gonna survive the night.

You toss the toys on the bed, purposely within reaching distance, then let Robby guide you over him, legs quivering the whole time. He can see the way your whole abdomen contracts with heavy breaths, grins sideways and sticks his tongue out as far as he can to get another small taste of you.

“Now, I’m gonna need you to listen very fucking closely as I say this,” he starts, craning his neck so that he can start kissing all over your inner thighs, about ready to die when you start wiggling for him. “I’m about to tell you to sit on my face, and your natural instinct, for whatever stupid fucking reason, is gonna be to hover instead.” Robby thinks he hears you laugh, but you don’t deny it. “Swear to God, if you try that shit with me, I will hold you down until one of us dies, got it?”

“Jesus, okay,” you giggle, “I’ll try my very best.”

“Don’t try, just fucking do it.”

And, with that, Robby pulls you down, gives you just a few seconds to get that compulsion to hover out of your system, then tightens his grip on your thighs in warning. That’s all it takes for you to drop the rest of the way (good fucking girl), and Robby loses himself in your cunt.

He feels so good, fuckfuck, his mouth searing, tongue determined as he pushes it into your hole, his goddamn beard soft from oil but coarse from the general thickness of each hair–you’re going insane. Robby is going to get you fucking institutionalized.

It doesn’t take you long before you’re falling forward, which is fine as you’re now at eye-level with his cock. Fat and oozing translucent precum, you swipe a thumb over his tip, angry and red from neglected lust, and the whole length of it kicks when you lick a stripe from his base to the ridge. You take his cockhead between your lips, and Robby makes a delicious noise, throaty and pained, immediately starts rolling his hips in a desperate attempt to get more friction.

You tease for a few moments, though it backfires when he starts sucking your clit. You already know you’re making a mess all over him, just like you start making a mess on his dick, thick saliva filling your mouth then dripping down to the thatch of hair at the root of it. You experiment, the weight and girth, take him a bit deeper with each bob of your head. With every new centimeter, Robby groans, and it encourages you further, relaxing your throat as he slips past your soft palate.

He slides a finger inside of you, no resistance at all, and when he adds another you moan–or try to, muffling yourself when you take him deep enough to cut off your own air supply.

It’s not that you have much practice with deep throating, but the more Robby works your pussy open, the more your muscles relax. All of them. Leaving the sleeve of your throat pliable and willing to take him. Your eyes are watering, but it has nothing to do with pain. In fact, you can’t feel much of anything aside from the fingers thrusting in and out of you, scissoring and stretching your cunt. Tongue swirling around your clit, pressure building between your hips, and you should probably tell him that you’re about to cum, squirt, whatever, but your mouth is so full, and you’re not moving as much as you’re gurgling, drooling all over Robby’s cock as you start to spasm on top of him.

He’s muttering something–you can feel it, can hear incoherent mumbles that cut off when you tip over that edge again, drenching his face in your juice as your back curls enough to make his cock slide out of your greedy mouth.

“Fuuuck,” you cry for him, thighs trembling on either side of his head, “Robby, Robby, fuck, fuck–”

Something like ‘mhmm’ vibrates against you, his fingers showing no sign of slowing down, and you know you’re overstimulated, know you still haven’t stopped quivering, but his cock is still so pretty and wet in front of you, and all you want is to get it back in your throat, so you do. Sucking it back down, you sob around him, would probably scream if you weren’t so stuffed. Instead, you take it all, everything he can give you, hips rolling, eyes rolling, fingers digging into hairy thighs hard enough to bruise.

You think he might be just as out of it as you are, both of your movements uncoordinated, a clumsy, perfect dance of hands and mouths until you can’t take it anymore (you have the distinct feeling that Robby could very much keep going, but there are more important things you’d like to experience before he makes you pass out).

With a lewd pop, you let his cock slide from your mouth again, a shiny string of spit hanging between his head and your swollen lips, and your voice is raspy when you babble, “okay, ‘kay, ‘kay, Robby, pleaseplease–” and for the first time all evening, he actually shows you mercy, lets you fall to the side and catch your breath.

Sort of.

Your legs are still somewhat splayed, meaning he still has a good view of your pussy, and considering the toys are right next to his head, Robby wastes absolutely no time in teasing your hole, gliding a silicone tip through your folds then starts to push the dildo inside of you.

So, so sensitive, but you don’t tell him to stop, especially not when he looks like this, blushing head to toe with that inebriated expression as he watches the way your cunt swallows the toy up to the hilt.

“Fuck–takin’ it all, look at that…”

Your hips move slower than before, a smooth roll as opposed to the frantic way you’d ridden his face. It’s a little awkward, but you’re able to scoot enough to be able to wrap a hand around his cock again, and you use your own spit as lube to pump Robby at the same pace that he fucks you with the dildo.

Like the eye in the middle of a storm, the two of you lay like this, touching one another almost absentmindedly until you start to get restless. All you want is to feel him inside of you. Him. Not just his fingers, and definitely not the toy he’s thrusting in and out of you, but Robby.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks, apparently able to read your mind.

You don’t try to hide your desire, just nod, beg with a quiet, “please.”

It pulls another groan from him, has him losing interest in the dildo as he tosses it to the side (because who cares about bedspreads?). That dark look blooms in his eyes again, and Robby sits back up, reaches for you with rough, greedy hands, pulling you into his lap.

No sweet nothings, no real warning other than a huffed, “if I hurt you, tell me,” then, with a chuckle, Robby adds, “and if I don’t hear you, just fuckin’ slap me or something.”

You start moving before he does, grab his cock to line it up with your hole, and oh, fuckfuck, he’s right here, his tip catching on your entrance, pushing and pushing as both of you gasp, jaws dropping, gripping too tightly as you sink down down down.

The sounds you’re making sound more like cries than anything else–whines and whimpers, “fuck, so much–you’re–it’s–”

One of Robby’s hands moves to pet your head, so sweet before suddenly guiding your face down to his, and his kiss nearly knocks your teeth out, a little mean, extremely hungry, and you meet his tongue with your own as you keep sinking.

He stretches you so, so perfectly, feels like he’s molding you to the shape of his cock. So hot, so heavy, dragging against gummy walls and pushing your body to its limit as he settles right up against your cervix.

Almost as if you can feel him in your throat all over again, you cough, inhale, exhale over and over, can’t even get enough air in your lungs because you are so fucking full of him, oh god…

“Feel so fucking good, baby–holy shit, take me so. fucking. good.” He punctuates the thought with an upward thrust, bouncing you in his lap a few times while watching your face for any sign of discomfort.

He won’t find any, though. All Robby will see is you all fucked out, needy and drooling—so deeming it safe, he begins rutting up into you, holding your hips and starting a reasonable rhythm that very quickly devolves into something that’s anything but.

Eager and aching, like this isn’t just the first time the two of you will come together but also the last (you’ll be fucking damned before you let that happen). You latch onto his neck, sucking and biting biting biting, make sure he’ll have a dark bruise in place of your mouth, show off exactly where the two of you were attached.

You try to move with him, try to meet him halfway, but the fact of the matter is that Robby is going to take what he wants, and you’re going to let him, going to let him tear you apart, put you back together, then repeat the cycle.

You squeal when you’re thrown off of him and onto your back, giggle as Robby crawls over you, grabs the backs of your legs to push them up to your chest. He slides inside of you again, sucking spit from his teeth then laughs when he finds the perfect angle to hit your g-spot.

“Fucking–!”

“Yeah?” he plays, “right there?” hitting it again and again and kissing your calf which is covered in goosebumps just like the rest of you.

Scorching, all of it, all of him, he’s got you at his fucking mercy, and your insides are burning up, tears leaking from your eyes to release some of that heat before you explode.

He’s so–he’s… Jesus, you can’t–it’s too much, it’s too good. He plays your body like he’s been doing it for years, only proving that this was always supposed to happen, it was always leading up to this.

“Gonna… Robby, gonna…”

He leans down further, pushing all the oxygen from you as he fucks into you deeper, abandons one of your legs in favor of working a hand between your thighs.

“I know, I know, cum for me, cum around my cock–” he gruffs against the shell of your ear, and when you call out for him, Robby matches the desperation in your tone, moans with you, pants your name as he rides out your orgasm like it’s his own.

“God, you’re perfect, this pussy is fucking perfect, squeezing me like she was made to—”

Not stopping, never stopping, he keeps moving inside of you, keeps toying with your clit, then licks a tear from your cheek before kissing the tacky skin.

Christ, who is he? You’d think he was replaced by an animal, but no. No, you know better, because Michael Robinavitch has shown over and over that he lives his life passionately. It’s in the way he works, the way he teaches, the way he holds on to hope even when he knows there’s none.

He is not the type to let go of anything, won’t let anything slip through his fingers, and he’s holding you like you just might.

You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about that–ever–but you can’t talk, can’t do much of anything as he manhandles you again, tossing you then moving so you’re face to face, gripping your leg and lifting and slipping inside at a different angle.

He’s close like this, so fucking close, and your breaths mingle and your tongues tangle as you writhe and buck. You don’t think you can cum again, so sensitive that it’s near painful, but not yet. No, not yet, it all still feels too good.

The fact that this is Robby keeps barreling into you, stunning you like you can’t believe it. It’s really fucking happening, you’re finally feeling all of him, holding onto him, carding fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp and pulling him impossibly closer all while rolling and grinding.

“Shit,” he swears, “fuck ‘m getting–”

You grin against him, leaving him to kiss your teeth then grunt when you lick his lips, into his mouth to suck on his tongue. One of his hands is squeezing your ass, the other between your head and the pillow, keeping you tight against him, showing that breaking the kiss is not an option.

His thrusts become inelegant as he chases his high, shoving his pelvis against yours so that his hair catches on your clit. It isn’t enough to make you cum again, but it is enough to make you whine into him, the sound overtaken by Robby’s breathless chant of, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” before it goes all throaty when he hits his peak and tumbles over.

Warm, thick, and copious, Robby spills deep inside of you–so deep it would be dangerous if you weren’t protected, and you may be safe from swelling with his baby, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel swollen with his cum. You can feel the way it seeps back out around his cock, making a mess between your legs and getting further smeared by all his rutting.

He’s still swearing, still spilling until he comes to a stuttering halt and shudders with his whole body.

Through half-lidded eyes, the two of you stare and stare and stare until you’re kissing again, slow and sensual this time but no less desirous.

Once you come back down to earth and your breathing returns to a normal rate and depth, you break away just enough to rest your forehead against Robby’s as he begins to chuckle, “Christ.”

You snort and nod, “yeah. Same.”

Dissolving into post-coital laughter, a little incredulous, a little ‘did that really happen’, and Robby brushes his lips over your hairline, the corner of your eye, your nose, then groans as he slowly starts to slide his softening cock from you.

You can feel him leaking out of you, shimmy back enough so that you can actually look down and watch, and Robby takes in a sharp breath when he does the same.

“Fuck, hold on,” he tells you, “stay right fucking there.”

Confused, you watch him with a frown, the way he fumbles with something on his nightstand before pushing himself into a sitting position, now with his phone in his hand.

“Oh my god, I know you’re not about to do what I think you are,” but even as you say it, you find yourself grinning. Rolling your eyes, but grinning.

The way Robby winks gives you butterflies, your insides like magma all over again as he urges you onto your back and tells you, “spread those legs, honey.”

And, who are you to refuse him? This is how it all started, after all.

Thighs parted, you bring a hand to your mouth, index finger between your teeth and laughing as Robby angles his phone whatever way he wants. A few flashes going off, he captures what is sure to be several messy images of his cum seeping out of you.

“Finished?” you try then let out a noise of disbelief when Robby shakes his head.

“Nope. One second…”

Switching to landscape, you know he’s taking a video, especially when he slides a finger through your sloppy folds, gathering his spend then pushing it back into your twitchy hole.

You aren’t even playing it up when you moan, his name falling from your lips as you clench around him.

He whispers a quiet, “fuck,” before the flash dies, and he quite literally throws his phone over his shoulder before descending on you again. He pushes a second finger inside of you, brings both up to your mouth, holding them there like he’s letting you decide what to do.

Gripping his wrist, you stare into those big brown eyes and wrap your lips around the digits, tongue slipping between and cleaning them of cum as his pupils blow wide.

“Gonna fucking kill me,” he rasps.

You grin, nip at his fingertips, kiss both of them one by one.

“No dying,” you tell him with a shake of your head, “not yet anyway. I’m gonna need your help in the shower.”

And, help he does, all but holding you upright as you drag a soapy wash cloth over your body just like Robby bends to drag his mouth over your shoulders.

“Work is gonna be impossible,” he murmurs against wet skin. “No way am I gonna be able to keep my hands to myself.”

“You’re gonna have to find a way,” you scoff with a smile, “no way am I gonna get that rep–the resident fucking the attending. So cliché.”

“No, you can just be the resident who sends nudes to the attending.”

“Is that a complaint?” you tease, then, “‘cause I can easily never send you any. Ever.”

Robby makes a petulant sort of noise then sinks his teeth into your shoulder, manages to speak around it–well, kind of speak– “you woul’n’t ‘are.”

“I wouldn’t dare? Oh, but I would.”

He sucks hard enough to bruise in retaliation, then sighs, “fine. Just remember–” you’re spun around, his hands steady to keep you from slipping.

His expression is one of satisfaction, like his hunger has been sated, but when you meet his eyes there’s a gleam of something more, the barest hint of possessiveness that hasn’t quite left him. Maybe it never will.

“Those only get sent to me now, hear me? Only me.”

For the hundredth time of the night, you feel yourself go weak-kneed, unable to respond aside from a slight nod that is obviously not good enough for him.

“Hear me?” he asks again, ducking his head for you to see him more clearly, how his eyebrows raise in that almost condescending way you love so much.

Once the shiver has run its course down your spine, you finally agree, “only for you.”

You don’t need to tell him that the same applies to the rest of you—all of you, only for him—because he already knows it.

[aliceintvland]

Inbox open

KINKY PROMPTS // +18

1. breeding kink

2. somnophilia

3. size kink

4. fingering

5. phone sex

6. wall sex

7. age gap

8. breast play

9. choking

10. cockwarming

11. car sex

12. cuminflation

13. exhibitionism

14. dry humping

15. poly (2-3 extra people besides reader)

16. pet play

17. degradation kink

18. oral sex / oral fixation

19. praise kink

20. morning sex

21. hate fucking

22. thigh riding

23. face sitting

24. dacryphilia

25. corruption kink

26. jealous sex

27. spit kink

28. rough sex

29. soft sex

30. filming (consensual)

31. mirror sex

32. overstimulation

33. edging

34. dumbification

35. shower sex

36. voyeurism

37. cuckolding

38. thigh fucking

[aliceintvland]

In Circles Somewhere Else -- ch 5

In case you missed it, I made a playlist for this fic.

warnings: 18+, medical jargon, mentions/depictions of pregnancy loss, graphic medical details, mentions of blood, angst, some fluff, very long chapter oopsies

You woke an hour later, the jarring loud infomercial that played after the movie stirring you awake to find yourself with your head on Robby's shoulder, curled up by his side.

He snores soundly next to you until you sit up, as if the warmth of your breath on his neck was keeping him in a dream state.

"Shit," he groans, rubbing his eyes and looking around with bleary eyes. "What time is it?"

"2:38," you tell him, still getting your own bearings, scooting over to maintain distance. Robby looks at you in the dim television light, and you can tell he's debating whether or not to speak. So you make the choice for him. "We should get some actual rest. Early start tomorrow."

"Yeah," he stands, stretching, and you avert your eyes from the way his tummy shows when his shirt lifts, the trail of hair disappearing into his sweats. "Let me go put our scrubs in the dryer."

Always the caretaker. Until he wasn't.

You stand, wrapped in the blanket still, feeling lost in the home that was once your own.

"For what it's worth, you seemed to be getting plenty of rest on the couch," Robby returns, heading toward the guest room. You follow him like a lost puppy up the stairs. "Snoring away."

"I don't snore," you say indignantly, an amused grin playing at the corner of your lips. This was a longstanding debate between the two of you. Despite video evidence of your charming little snores, you stand your ground.

He gives you a look, whatever you say, and flips the light to the spare room in. You're surprised at the way your breath hitches in your chest when you step inside.

You remember that when he bought the house, his pitch was that the spare room could be a nursery. Unbeknownst to him, you had mentally decorated it, knowing exactly what size crib you'd need.

Robby hands you a phone charger wordlessly, lingering in the doorway for a few seconds too long as you crawl into bed. He turns off the light, closing the door before coming back in moments later with a white noise machine.

"I know you can't sleep without this," he offers, plugging it in. You thank him quietly, eyelids already heavy.

"Goodnight, honey," you hear him whisper as you fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came quicker than you expected. Luckily, Robby had your coffee ready by the time you came downstairs, running a few minutes behind schedule.

He hands you the to-go cup with a banana, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows when you put it down. "Eat something."

"Fine," you scoff, an appreciative smile creeping through as he ushers you through the front door.

The two of you walk, your body instinctively wanting to reach for his hand. But you know better. A honking car slowing next to you makes you jump, his hand instinctively settling on your lower back, dropping it quickly when the driver rolls down the window.

"Do I even wanna know?" Dana asks, cigarette hanging from her lips, sunglasses on.

"Long story," you say, glancing over at Robby. "All very above board."

"Sure," the blonde shakes her head with a laugh. "Your secret's safe with me."

Before either of you can respond, she drives off, flipping off a car that honks at her. Robby chortles, shaking his head in disbelief. You consider if you should hang back, cut off the rumor mill before it even starts, but Robby looks at you like he's reading your mind.

"That embarrassed to be seen with me?" he jokes, and you shake your head with a smirk.

"Of course not," you answer earnestly. Especially at the hospital, where he's the closest thing to God in that ER, you're proud to be walking by his side. Even in the most innocent of contexts. "Just thinking about how Princess and Perlah will have something to gossip about today."

"They always find something to talk about," he chuckles as you approach the front entrance. You watch as he mentally prepares himself, a steady breath, straightening his shoulders as he walks in.

You follow close behind, happily surprised at the fact that the waiting room isn't as bad as it usually is. But only a fool would say that out loud.

"Y/N," you haven't even put your bag down when Shen spots you, approaching with an exhausted look on his face. "I've never been so happy to see you. It's fucking bullshit they don't have a social worker on the night shift."

"Agree," Jack appears out of nowhere from behind, chuckling when you jump a little. He turns to Robby, who's sitting down at his computer. "Robby, work your magic."

Robby swivels in his desk chair, lowering his glasses to the bridge of his nose before turning back around.

"If I had that kind of power, I sure as shit wouldn't be here with you," he quips. "You know who to ask."

"Anyway, I have a patient in 11 North for you," Shen hands you a clipboard. "28 years old, first pregnancy. Ectopic--had to terminate, so she's a mess. Can you go talk to her? She's still groggy but should be up soon."

You watch as Robby's head snaps around, standing and clearing his throat. Shen walks away before you can even mutter a yes.

You feel your stomach sink, acutely aware of Jack's sympathy-laced eyes boring into you. You focus on those, ones you can handle, instead of Robby's utterly devastated ones.

"Y/N," Robby croaks out, rubbing his beard anxiously. "Want to take a quick walk?"

"I'll cover for a few," Jack nods, always backing Robby up. You just shake your head, and Abbott furrows his brows.

"He knows anyway, so what's the point?" you gesture toward the other doctor. Robby looks around, as if to make sure nobody can overhear, but you can cut him off before he can speak. "If you're about to tell me I don't have to go in there, please don't."

"That's exactly what I was going to say," he admits. His hands are fidgety, tugging at his stethoscope as if he needs something to anchor to. It would've been you before. "I'll call psych to take this."

"No," you say firmly, shaking your head, lip threatening to quiver. You always knew this was a possibility working in the Emergency Department. You were ready. "I have to do this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JULY 2021

You haven't seen Robby this scared in a while. Only one thing before this left him with that look of dread and terror in his eyes: COVID.

His feet tap on the cold hospital tile, hand squeezing yours harder than feels comfortable. But you're too tired to care.

"Where the hell is he," Robby mutters under his breath, peering at the clock. You both know it's not good, Jack has been gone for too long, and you can tell Robby has half a mind to run out there and log into your chart himself.

But he sits with you, trying (and failing) to maintain composure. His eyes keep wandering to your belly, still flat if not bloated.

"I'm just gonna go grab him," Robby finally says, standing, hand still in yours. "I'll be right back, honey."

"Please don't," you say lowly, equally as frustrated with the lack of news. But for all of the time Robby has spent bitching about how understaffed the ED is, you're surprised he isn't more patient. "Just stay with me, baby."

"Alright," he concedes, bending down to kiss your forehead, softly running a hand through your hair. "You somehow still look beautiful. How do you do that?"

The night had started off perfectly. You were dancing in your kitchen, making a beautiful dinner for Robby while he finished up at work.

You were chopping onions when the back pain started, dull and infrequent. You remember thinking to yourself that it was a bit early for that -- you were hardly even showing.

You chalked it up to pulling your back in yoga that morning, carrying on with your life, wishing you could take an Advil but Robby had scared you about using OTC pain medication while pregnant.

By the time Robby got home, you were curled up on the couch with a heating pad as the pain sharpened, the pasta dinner you were making since abandoned. He rushed over to you, kissing you softly, murmuring about how brave you are and feeling to see if you tweaked it.

When you told him innocently that the pain was wrapping around to your stomach on one side, it must have been the downward dog, he ripped the blanket off of you and separates your legs.

"Oh does my pain turn you on?" you had joked with him, voice trailing off when you see the panic in his eyes. He pulled you up, inhaling sharply. "Robby?"

"There's some blood," he said, and you look down frantically. Robby cups your cheeks. "Shhh shhh shhh honey. Don't panic yet, sometimes spotting is normal. Let's go look."

He grabbed you by the hand, leading you to your bedroom and instructing you to take off your pants and sit on the toilet. You wiped yourself as he instructs, his eyes continuously glancing back at the red-stained underwear on the bathroom floor. "Okay, that's more than I'm comfortable with. We're going in."

Robby grabbed his phone from his pocket, dialing Jack.

"I need you to get a bed ready," he disappeared into your bedroom for a moment, and you can no longer hear his conversation until he returned with a fresh pair of cotton shorts and underwear. He grabbed a pad and sticks it on your panties. "Alright, see you soon."

You're sat on the toilet still, frozen and teary. Robby kneeled in front of you, stroking your hair.

"Honey," he whispered gently, putting your underwear and shorts around your ankles. He pulled you up, placing a kiss on your forehead as you wiggle them over your hips. "We need to go, alright? Jack is going to make sure everything is alright."

Sniffling, you nodded, following him down the stairs and into the car. The rest is a blur. From Jack greeting you at the ambulance bay to the needle placed in your arm to take blood and inject fluids, the world was moving slowly.

Now, as you lay in the bed, in your fourth pad of the last hour, you begin to cry. Because you already know, deep down. And Robby does too.

"Fucking finally," Robby mutters when Jack walks in, portable ultrasound machine in tow.

Jack swallows the dig, understanding the stress. Your fiancé rifles through the cupboards, pulling out gel and lifting your scratchy hospital gown.

"Will you please just not be a doctor right now?" you sniffle, a little annoyed. You appreciate him trying to make things go quicker. But all you want is for him to hold your hand and pet your hair.

"Of course, honey," Robby returns to his spot in in the chair next to you, taking your hand and kissing your wrist. He watches the ultrasound screen intently, breathing out shakily at whatever was on the screen. "I'm sorry, angel."

He and Jack exchange a look, followed by Jack nodding. Robby leans over and resting his chin on your shoulder. You hear a rhythmic thumping, and Robby smiles, eyes locked on the screen.

"Honey," he whispers, squeezing your hand before placing a kiss on the back of it. "See that little blob right there? That's our baby. And that's it's heartbeat you hear."

You didn't realize how tense you were until he said the words and the worries came melting away. Tears of joy flow down your cheeks, Robby's own emotions finally coming out in a wave of relief.

But then Jack furrows his brows, moving ultrasound wand slightly to the side. He looks at you and Robby, who's whispering in your ear about how brave you are and what a strong mother you'll be.

"Heterotopic," he says, and he may as well have been speaking an entirely different language. But you notice the way Robby drops your hand, moving forward to look at the screen closer. He nods, processing whatever he was just told. "I'll call OB. You two talk."

"Robby?" you ask, fear returning like an unwanted guest. Robby sits on your bed, a hand on your thigh. "The baby's there, but is it okay?"

"So actually, two embryos implanted," he explains, putting on his doctor voice--though you don't protest. "And while that would normally be twins, in this case, one of them implanted outside of the uterus."

"Oh," you say, voice small, shaky. "B-but the other one will be okay?"

"Yes," he says confidently. "But you'll need surgery to terminate the other pregnancy. Because a rupture could be life threatening."

You sniffle, a tidal wave of emotions washing over you. It wasn't like twins was ever something you dreamed of, but the loss still leads you down a path of sadness for what never was. Robby kisses your lips, tenderly. Your safety.

"I'm sorry, honey," he whispers, forehead pressed against yours, hand cupping your cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Alright, OR is booked," Jack returns, clapping his hands. He takes a seat in the chair Robby once sat, leaning forward and gently patting your knee. "Sorry, kid. I know this is difficult. But your other fetus looks good. Congratulations, you two. And thanks for keeping me in the dark, brother."

"I was gonna tell you," Robby chuckles at his friend. "I swear. I'm ready to shout it from the rooftops once she hits the 12 week mark in August."

Jack left to go with another patient, giving you a sincere hug and wishing you luck in your procedure, leaving Robby to explain the nitty gritty.

The next hour is a blur, the two of you laying next to each other, talking about the future.

Robby wants to move to a house with a proper yard. He'll even build a play set -- or rather, hire someone to help do it.

You don't want the kid to even see a screen until age 5, to which Robby chuckles and says you'll rethink that when they're screaming.

He wants them to learn a second language young. It'll help them become better communicators.

You want them to play some sort of sport or do an activity. Something to move their body and show them the importance of teamwork.

Robby wants to finally buy the lake house he's always talked about. Making it a home base, that the kids and their kids can come to for years to come.

You don't want a nanny. But a trusted babysitter for date nights is a must. And you want Robby to agree to give your sister a house key so she can drop by.

He doesn't care if his kids go to temple, in fact he'd prefer not to have to drag them, but he wants them to be raised Jewish.

"I think our kid with the last name Robinavitch will understand that identity," you tease. "I'm fine with that. But I want to do the whole Santa thing too."

"Deal," he nods, as an unfamiliar face walks in, a cart in tow. "Ah, looks like it's time to make you loopy, my dear."

Robby kisses you, crawling off of the gurney so the nurse can check your IV line. He sits next to you, a steady presence as she explains that the next medication is going to help you relax.

"When you wake up, I'll be right here," he says gently, stroking your hair. "Okay? My brave girl."

Robby's voice is the last thing you hear as you close your eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUGUST 2021

You hadn't even been home from your surgery three weeks when the bleeding started again.

You were watching a movie when the pain started. Dull and unassuming, you even googled if it could've been a kick.

At 11 weeks and 5 days, you were almost ready to announce to everyone. Only Robby and Abbott knew the gender, but you had narrowed the names down to two choices for each.

A little early, but you were both excited and your cabin fever from recovery gave you little else to think about.

So when you went to the bathroom and saw blood, you nearly threw up. Practically screaming Robby's name, you began hysterically crying.

"What's wrong?" he races in, crouching by your side, face going white at the sight in your underwear. Blood, clotted and red littered the white fabric. Grayish clumps sit atop the blood.

Robby stands you up, pulling you into a hug, his face buried in your shoulder as you felt his own tears drip down your back.

"Honey," he pulls back, wiping his tears. There's now blood on his own sweatpants, but he couldn't possibly care less. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, angel. You miscarried."

His words open up the floodgates even further, your legs buckling as you sink back down onto the toilet. He crouches next to you again, head leaning on your shoulder, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

Neither of you say anything. You just sit there, tears flowing, occasionally looking down at the mess you left behind. The mess that was once your entire future.

"We can go into the ED if you want," he finally says. "But there isn't anything we can do there besides confirm."

"And y-you're sure?" you ask, clinging to any shred of hope you can find. Robby nods somberly. "Then no. I want to stay here."

"Okay," he says with a sniffle. Robby stands and walks over to the bath, turning it on. "I'm gonna pop you in here, alright? It will help you with the cramping. There still might be more fetal tissue for you to pass."

You nod, shakily standing and pulling your shirt over your head. Robby kneels and wipes the excess blood between your legs, placing a gentle kiss on your hip.

"I love you so much," you choke out another sob, and he stands, engulfing you in yet another hug. Squeezing so tight as if he could absorb the pain from you. "Thank you for being here."

"Nowhere else I'd want to be," he states plainly. He strips down too, turning off the water and testing it with his palm before stepping in, his back against the edge. You climb in front of him, back pressed against his chest, his arms around your waist, rubbing circles on your lower tummy.

"Michael, the water might get bloody," you suddenly realize, crying again as another cramp hits you. "You might want to get out."

"I couldn't care less," he kisses the top of your head. "I'm with you, honey. Let me be with you."

You both got out, jumped in the shower for a rinse, and got ready for bed. He gingerly places a towel on your side of the bed, eyes mournfully kind as he watches you crawl under the covers.

Robby brings you your water bottle, a heating pad and some Advil. He kisses your face and rubs your back, soothing you and wiping your tears. He cries his own tears, says how sorry he is, tells you that you two can try again. He repeats how much he loves you and how you're his brave girl.

The next morning he's equally as attentive. Calling in sick and spending the day by your side. But he never discusses how he feels about it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PRESENT DAY

"I want to do this," you reaffirm, and Robby crosses his arms. "I can be helpful here. As someone who's been through it and can empathize."

"Are you trying to prove a point? Is that it?" Robby's growing frustrated now. You can see his vein starting to pop out, as if he's already about to explode before the shift has even fully started.

"Brother," Abbott interjects, but Robby turns and gives him a stern look. "Alright. Fine."

"I'm not," you defend yourself. "I'm trying to do my fucking job. Just because talking about certain things makes you lose control, doesn't mean we're all that fucked up."

He raises his eyebrows a bit at your words, stepping backward with a slow nod. Regret washes over your face when the words designed to hurt him did exactly that.

"I'm sorry," you say quickly. After the normalcy of last night, you didn't want to risk getting on his bad side again. Robby nods, rubbing both hands over his face.

"It's fine," he says flatly. "I guess we all cope differently. If you think you're up for it, be my guest."

"Michael," you say, regret in your voice. "I'm sorry."

"All good," he responds. You can tell he's lying, but Dana walks over with a sense of urgency and you watch him turn away. But not before adding, "If you need to talk to someone after, come find me."

A glimmer of the old Michael. The man you once shared your life with: compassionate even when in distress, attentive even when busy, and loving above all else.

[aliceintvland]

the chapter im writing rn is so fucking sad i actually cried writing it. that is all.

[aliceintvland]

Holy fuck I need 700 of these. So good

sacraments master list

the way we were raised and the people we were raised by leave permanent scars no matter how badly we wish them away. robby proves to you over and over that he loves those scars and wouldn’t change a thing, even if you’re always wishing things were different. (this started as a sort of reimagining of ep 2x06 of the bear and spiraled from there)

robby x f!attending!reader ; established relationship

content: 18+ only minors dni, angst, swearing, sexually explicit content, smoking, alcohol, sibling death, grief, complicated mother/daughter relationship, family/childhood trauma, mentions of physical/emotional childhood abuse, accidental pregnancy, abortion, age gap

healing

penance

baptism

[aliceintvland]

in circles somewhere else is also VERY tolerate it coded. verrrry