Archive of Our Own

It’s way too fucking hot in The Pitt.

Even at Dr. Robby’s desk—his usual spot where he gets to enjoy the AC—he’s sweltering, sweat beading down his back, fanning himself with the nearest wad of paperwork he can reach. The cool breeze gives a hint of relief from his burning skin. Did someone turned down the AC? He’s melting becoming one with worn cushion beneath him; how anyone could want The Pitt to be even more miserable than it already is he doesn’t know.

No one’s stupid enough to change the AC though. The truth is that he’s suffocating because of the stupid new suppressants he’s taking. For years he’s been buying his pills online no problem. Of course, it wasn’t exactly legal but the website was good—three years of buying from there hasn’t caused any issues— and the quality had stayed consistent though not as good as the prescribed stuff he’d had the luxury of taking back in Nebraska.

But now the government has shut the site down and arrested the ‘criminals’ who ran it. For Omega safety, apparently. But nothing about closing the site keeps Omegas safe. All it does is lead them to other, shadier sites. That’s where the current boiling-him-alive-slowly suppressants had come from. Some random site found on a Reddit post with one positive review dug up one night when Trinity was at Garcia’s to avoid any questions she’d definitely have if she noticed what he was doing. And she always noticed. Still, it’s not like he had any other choice.

Well, okay. Telling Trinity, asking Kiara for suppressants, those were both choices; but not ones he was ever going to make. Not when it meant opening up the whole can of worms as to why he’s on non-regulated suppressants in the first pace, why he’d left home and why he can’t be on his family’s insurance to get them prescribed via his Alpha. It would involve telling them everything—talking honestly about why he was homeless. He’s not doing that again, not after the last time, the rejection scarring deep in his heart.

Yeah, shady internet pills it is.

Still, these are awful; intense side effects tormenting him: hot flushes, irritability, weight gain, and deep, aching horniness. The horniness. That’s the worst. Every night masturbating to thoughts of a certain attending and some days too. The worst is when it hits during a shift. When the most disgusting thoughts of pus-filled wounds, chunk-filled bile and scabbing skin are all that stop slick dripping down his thighs as he listens to Dr. Robby giving an especially detailed demonstration; his sleeves rolled up exposing strong, hairy forearms—his eyes sharp, moving smoothly between Dennis and the patients—steady hands pushing all sorts of fantasies forward in Dennis’s mind. Or when he compliments Dennis, kind words rolling off in a raspy tone, so easy in ways Dennis has never known before—it’s a nightmare. Next time he’ll find a better supply, but for now this is it. It’s new suppressants or food, and he can’t handle Trinitys lectures when he doesn’t eat for a few days.

Sipping ice water from the bottle he stashed on Dr. Robby’s desk that morning—excessive thirst another side effect—he takes a few short, sharp breaths, hoping to bring back some energy for the rest of his shift.

Wait. What is that?

A scent.

Leather, tobacco, sandalwood.

It’s a potent scent; one he recognises instinctually. Something caught before in bursts but nothing as compelling as this, opening its jaws to swallow him whole and encase him in its essence.

Is it coming from there? He swivels left, then right. Over there? His search is fruitless as he tries to find the source. Who is it? An Alpha without scent patches? Some idiot who’s decided to spray the room with his scent when he doesn’t get his way? He can’t stop searching, head swinging back and forth. There. Behind him. His wide eyes waver as they turn towards the offending object.

Back of his chair. Dr. Robby’s blue jacket. It’s like a lighthouse beaming a beacon of scent that guides only him to its safety. How had he not noticed it before? How is no one else scrambling to press their nose into its soft cotton?

He looks left, right. The coast is clear. No one is coming to take it away from him.

There’s only a seconds thought before he makes a decision. He does one final scan of the floor making sure no one is watching to see what he’s about to do. The unthinkable. Fingering the well worn, deep blue of the jacket he presses his nose deep into the sleeve, breath shaky, gasping in the scent as if he’ll never get to smell it again. The fabric is delicate against his nose—cotton far nicer than any of the polyester Dennis usually wears—as he huffs in the scent, a man possessed by the need to consume Dr. Robby. There’s no thoughts but that leather, tobacco scent, head fuzzy, shivers tingling down his spine. The feeling of being safe, settled, home with his pack calming his instincts. It’s a feeling almost unknown to him now. Trinity’s scent is home, but he can’t scent her, not when he’s lying to her, their possible pack bond damaged by his inadequacy.

But Dr. Robby’s scent sends lightening through him awakening him from his slump. It catches on something deep inside of him he hasn’t felt in a long time, a yearning for a sense of belonging. Has Dr. Robby always smelt like this? So perfectly blended between warm, smokey, fiery and safe. The team call Dennis a bloodhound for a reason his strong nose meaning he can tell Alpha from Beta from Omega the second they enter the Pitt doors and he can diagnose second gender issues faster than any other first year. But this is a scent he’s only caught traces of before as Dr. Robby presses close to teach or praise. Did he forget his scent blockers today, is that why his jacket is scented so thoroughly?

Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.

His cheek is pressing against the sleeve, huffing in the scent, a man possessed.

Clomp, clomp, clomp.

What is that?

Clomp.

Oh shit! He’s still in the ER. Someone is walking towards him and they’re about to catch him scenting his attending’s jacket like a total creep. He’s back facing the screen in a blink, sleeve discarded behind him, fingers scurrying across the keyboard typing whatever he can come up with, mind still occupied with the scent.

“You know,” Trin whispers, the press of her cold lips to the burning skin behind his ear startling him. She laughs, “You may have a crush on him, but you shouldn’t go round scenting his things Huckleberry. At least not where we all have to see it.” She pushes to fingers into her mouth, gagging, before walking away not caring about his response.

“I wasn’t!” Dennis jabs at the screen, finger trembling, “I was just writing up my notes and this was the only spot free!” His argument is weak, but he has to try and save face somehow even if arguing with Trinity is always a fools errand.

“Uh huh, and the new charting guidelines say to write about how the patient smells do they?” Trinity raises her eyebrows, pointing to his screen mockingly upon seeing his confused face before strutting away her spirited laugh filling the ER.

Spinning back his shoulders slump in embarrassment as he sees his screen reads ‘leather, tobacco, sandalwood, Alpha smells so good’. Eww, he’s smacking the backspace key every hit echoing through the ER as he deletes his writings on Robby’s scent from existence. Luckily only Trinity saw him. She teases, but she hasn’t exposed his crush yet.

“Dennis, with me!” It’s the last voice he wants to hear reverberating across the ER. Can one of those sinkholes everyone’s always betting on open up right now so he doesn’t have to face him?

Realising his wish isn’t happening he sucks in one last hit of that smokey aroma that’s quickly become his new favourite everything before rushing over to where Dr. Robby is stood waiting at the front desk.

“I want you with me in Central 13. We’ve got an 8-year-old with a penetrating hand injury involving a fork. You’re usually good with the kids.” Dr. Robby’s voice is resonant despite the din in the ER. It’s always like that—breaching through the noise and reaching Dennis whenever he needs it. His scent isn’t as strong in person probably blocked by scent patches. It’s too noticeable if he takes a big breath, but if he breathes normally he can’t catch it. He’s stuck. Try and look normal or breathe like a weirdo and catch that scent he needs.

“Whitaker…Whitaker?” Oh shit, Dr. Robby’s voice yanks him from his daydreams into the beeping brightness of the ER.

“You good?”

The hand clamping hard onto his shoulder anchors him in the present. He has to stay focused; there are patients that need him. He can’t waste time chasing scents or worrying about himself.

Faded blues meet walnut browns, lava spreading through him from Dr. Robby’s gaze touch down his chest and deep into his core. It’s impossible to hide, as if everyone can see the glow beaming out from inside him. Dr. Robby sees it, he can tell from the way his eyebrows pull together, lips tightening, concern turning to observation—scanning Dennis like a patient.

“Yeah, yeah,” the lie is obvious from his weary tone, the bone deep exhaustion unconcealable. “Just a bad nights sleep; I think I twinged my back,” He smiles, or tries his best to, but he can tell from Robby’s raised brow that he sees right through him.

“If you say so kid. Just try not to fall down on me. I need you,” Dr. Robby reminds him.

Dennis moans softly at the compliment head still wrapped up in the touch, the scent. Shit. “Sorry, I caught my back!” Dennis scrambles, gaze firmly at his feet, hoping Dr. Robby doesn’t notice how red his face must be. Why is that idiot always saying things like that. Why can’t he just be uninterested in Dennis for once in his life?

“Central 13 right?” He strains, not waiting for a response, dashing away into the bustle of the ER leaving Dr. Robby to stare at the tips of his pink ears. How embarrassing, he can’t he keep it in his pants for one shift.

They finish the young girl’s work up quickly. The wound is gnarly but should be an easy fix. Still, they’re sending her off for a CT scan to make sure she hasn’t hit anything serious before they can take the fork out, hopefully without surgery.

Apparently she’d been eating and watching YouTube at the same time and had slammed her fork down into her hand thinking it was her plate. If Dennis was lucky he’d get out of work without doing something similar. Focusing on work had been harder than he’d imagined with Dr. Robby there, his scent distracting now that Dennis knew what to recognise. It caught his nose every time he breathed, sidetracking his every thought. Every movement, every small breeze pulled the scent towards him, testing his mettle.

His thoughts are spinning: worry he didn’t do his best with the patient, that Dr. Robby’s realised he’s being weird, about how he’s going to make it through another 5 hours of this. Each anxiety is stacks on top of one another, about to topple, when he realises Dr. Robby is talking to him. Again. “Sorry, I was thinking about next steps,” Dennis laughs a little, trying to play it off as casual; he probably just comes like the most weird, self-obsessed person Dr. Robby’s ever met.

Dr. Robby studies him through narrowed eyes, “You good, Whitaker?”

Dennis preens stuck between feeling bad he’s neglecting work and bothering Dr. Robby and his instincts that are dancing with joy at the Alpha caring about his wellbeing. Stupid, stupid basal instincts. He sighs mournfully, before nodding his head. “I’m good, I swear, just a little distracted today—sorry.” He settles on a half-lie the real truth not an option.

Dr. Robby raises an eyebrow clearly not believing him, concern masking his face, leaning forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It’s like everything’s frozen as he presses in closer breath hot against Dennis’ neck as he whispers in his ear, clearly thinking something private must be going on if he’s up in Dennis’s space like this. “If there’s anything you need to tell me—anything at all—you can trust me.”

“Ahh,” the sound feels forced from Dennis; Dr. Robby’s low voice rattling through his skull sending electric shockwaves through all the wrong parts of him. The pressure that’s been building pops pushing him down to his knees as a flood of slick leaks down his thighs. It’s the heat of his crushes hand on his shoulder, breath hot against his skin, rich scent enveloping him that has Dennis wet, panting and wanting; his hand shooting up teeth pressing sharp into his fist to suppress another, louder moan from seeping out into the ER.

Dr. Robby’s on the ground immediately after him, “Dennis, Dennis! What’s wrong? What happened? Are you…” he stops. He knows the answer. Of course he does. The whole ER will know soon the way his scent is leaking out, scent blockers barely holding it at bay.

“I’m in heat,” Dennis admits, almost as much to himself as to Dr. Robby.

Breath quickening in panic his fingers press hard enough to bruise into his biceps as his arms move instinctually to clutch tight around him, “Fuck, fuck!” His eyes dart around, ER suddenly too bright, too many eyes boring into him. “I can’t be in heat. I can’t. I’m in the ER. I’m at work! I can’t.”

Tugging his hair he rocks back and forth; this is all his fault. “Those stupid suppressants,” he murmurs. Everything has gone to shit because of those damn suppressants. He’s fucked everything.

He needs to work, he can’t afford days off work, and he can’t afford better suppressants, and he doesn’t have a heat partner and he hasn’t talked about having his heat at Trinity’s and he can’t afford a heat hotel and and….

“Breathe.” Dr. Robby instructs, his attending voice cutting through the noise in Dennis’s mind. “In for three, out for five.” He follows the slow pattern that Dr. Robby leads him in his scattered breath slowly settling. The thoughts continue to buzz in his head but he pushes them away attention only on the man in front of him. He breathes only through his mouth; it was the scent that ruined him—at least that’s what he tells himself—and maybe if he keeps his nostrils shut things will be fine.

When the ER has pulled back into focus, thoughts expanding past ‘heat’ and ‘stupid idiot’ the need returns, a void opens in his stomach, cunt and heart as Dr. Robby’s touch is stripped away from him. “Please,” it’s guttural, out there before he comprehends the thought, begging him to come back.

“You’re good, you’re good, Omega. I’m just getting help for you.” Dr. Robby soothes, rough fingers squeezing Dennis’s in a promise. The fire that is burning inside at the distance calms a little knowing that he isn’t being abandoned even as it takes all his self control not to drag Dr. Robby back to him.

“Dana! Come here!” Robby yells out voice shaking. When she doesn’t respond he shouts “Dana!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming! What’s got you all worked up for hollering in my ER?” She’s jovial, meandering over to them. The second she smells Dennis her laugh drops pace quickening.

“Get a heat room prepared: get liquids, heat combatting pills, foods, everything,” Dr. Robby barks and Dana’s yelling the orders across the floor to Princess before he’s finished. Have they dealt with this before or are they just always this in sync? Thankfully Dana is an Alpha. Seeing an Omega so in sync with Robby whilst he’s in heat would make the jealousy crawling inside impossible to contain.

“Whittaker what suppressants do you take? We need to know to know what brand you use so we can give you the right thing to end your heat right now.” It’s so soft—he’s using the tone he reserves for little ones.

“Ha!” Dennis’s laugh turns into a broken sob halfway through forcing his body forward, pressing over onto himself as he hides in shame; no Alpha should have to look at such a screw up. “Fuck knows!” He pushes out in between cries.

There’s a long pause before Dennis continues, breath hitching as he tries to calm himself. “I… the stuff I get isn’t branded. It’s…I get it online.”

Dr. Robby’s beautiful scent turns acrid Dennis’s nostrils burning as bitterness fills the air around them. He’s upset and it’s all Dennis’s fault.

“By online you mean through a proper pharmacist?” He’s trying to hide it but he’s mad; teeth clenched, hand rubbing his forehead in that way he always does whenever a student makes a serious mistake—like he’s holding back from yelling at them. Dennis hasn’t raised his eyes from the ground, but his scent tells all.

“No.” The floor looks awfully interesting right now; he’s counting speckles, dust bunnies, anything to avoid seeing that look of disappointment again. Or worse he’ll look at Dennis with pity. Poor little Whittaker who can’t even afford real suppressants.“They’re not legal. These ones probably aren’t even real suppressants. That’s why I’m having a heat for the first time in six years.”

“Six years?!” It rings in Dennis’ ears—Alpha’s angry.

Dennis becomes one with the floor, crying out, his head pressing to top of Dr. Robby’s trainers. A sign of full submission. Something he’d only ever done for Jesus and his family Alphas. Begging for forgiveness for the crimes of being Dennis Whittaker.

His shoes smell like disinfectant and alcohol; it’s all Dennis notices as he gasps for air, head pressing hard against Dr. Robby’s trainers—ready and waiting for his punishment for angering the Alpha. Is Dr. Robby a lecturer like Nathan? Or does he like to beat with a firm hand or stick like his father and Samuel? It doesn’t matter. Taking what he deserves is his duty, Nebraska or Pittsburg, if he wrongs his Alpha he must repent.

Dr. Robby’s feet shuffle back, but he doesn’t make a move to hit, doesn’t mutter a word. Does he like to wait, to torment Dennis? He always seemed so merciful but he’s seen that act before. Thinking you’re free to move only makes things worse.

“Alright, alright.”

It’s Dana. His head snaps up. She shouldn’t be speaking. It’s Dr. Robby’s punishment not hers. “You,” she points at Dr. Robby, “Calm your scent, you’re scaring the boy. You,” her attention turns to Dennis, “no ones gonna punish you for doing what you needed to survive, okay kid?”

He nods —even if it’s a trick, to disagree with an Alpha is also be wrong— hesitantly he turns to Dr. Robby who nods stiffly. He shifts—wincing—to his aching knees; that makes him feel worse, a bad believer who can’t even handle 30 seconds on his knees without pain. He used to spend hours at the altar begging for his sins. No wonder this is happening to him. His hands press hard against his thighs as he sits back, eyes searching Dr. Robby’s face for if he’s sincere or not. The downturn to his eyes, the concerned crinkle at the edges all suggest he is.

“Now,” Dana continues, “if it’s been six years with illegal suppressants, we can’t use the heat combatting stuff, they’re not gonna have a good reaction with your hormones. You’re just gonna have to go through it.” Her eyes are wide, the softness in her voice an apology to his soul; as if its her fault, not his, this is all happening.

“People are beginning to stare your scent is so strong, so we gotta get things moving. You got somewhere to be? A partner to go to or you wanna go home?”

“No, no, nothing. I’m sorry.” Dennis apologises, meeting her kind eyes with red-rimmed ones. His chest hurts, stabbing from the guilt of burdening these people with him. “I can’t go home, I share my flat with Trinity—Dr Santos— and we haven’t worked out anything to do with this. I can’t kick her out. It’s her place not mine.” He’s so caught up in apologising—repeating over and over his apologies for not planning better—that he barely catches the growl deep from Dr. Robby’s throat. He whips his head to look at Dr. Robby who’s steadfastly looking ahead as if nothing happened. So he’s getting auditory hallucinations now too.

“It’s all good, you can stay here. Up you get,” she scoops him under the arms to help lift him off the floor, his shaky legs pushing himself up and into a wheelchair that she’d signalled to one of the nurses for. “I can walk,” he protests, but she’s already pushing him down into the seat, small hands pressing down with a surprising amount of force.

The heat rooms are close but the halls are long and the lingering stares from every Alpha dig into his skull. His eyes dart left and right trying to watch out for every possible threat; to keep himself safe from the Alphas that might want to take advantage of an Omega in heat just like he’d always been told they would. He feels his shoulders sink relaxing as he feels the swirl of Dr. Robby’s leather and sandalwood scent wrap around him, encasing him in a protective layer. The wheelchair now feels like a safe room rather than a prison.

“You sure you should be coming?” He hears Dana say. Raising an eyebrow he turns to ask what she means as Dr. Robby’s responds.

“You didn’t see how he acted when I tried to leave.” Dennis’s head snaps forward cheeks reddening in shame. “I’ll just make sure he gets there safe. It’s been six years Dana. Shit’s gonna be impossibly tough for him. You’ve seen cases like this before. The least he can have is people who care about him there for as long as possible.” Warmth spreads through his chest his fingers loosening from where they’d been subconsciously gripped tight on the arms of the wheelchair. Dr. Robby’s staying. Whether it’s pity or care does it matter? He isn’t abandoning Dennis.

“…Alright.” She sighs. She’s not alright but she’s accepting it the way she often does with Dr. Robby; Dennis has seen this interaction so often he can tell by her voice.

The walk feels like a lifetime and a second blinking past; every moment being observed in heat is torture his bones begging him to run. But every second in Robby’s scent is pure joy that sets his skin alight. He’ll be drenched in the scent for weeks even if he wanted to scrub it off. Wonderful.

Dana unlocks the door as they arrive at Heat Room 1. Only charge nurses and attendings are allowed to open heat rooms—Dennis had learnt that his first day. Thank God. Maybe Dr. Robby would check on him and get so overwhelmed by seeing him despaired by the depths of his heat that he’d finally give Dennis what he needs.

Yeah right.

The room was small, but fine enough; a bed is all he really needs. But something’s off. His skin itches, throat’s on fire; an emptiness spreads through his chest, threatening to overwhelm him until he disappears.

Dr. Robby.

Dr. Robby’s scent is disappearing replaced by the metallic tang of the hospital, sterile emptiness invading him.

Dennis’s head snaps around.

He’s gone.

His hands push at the arms of the wheelchair, crying out in pain and desperation, struggling to get up but pushed down by the steady hands of Dana and Princess who must have followed them in.

“Robby,” Dana panics, “Get in here right now, this boy needs you!”

Dr. Robby arrives before being called, sinking to his knees in front of Dennis. He rubs up and down Dennis’s thighs strong hands pressing him back into his seat. His scent fills the room overpowering the metallic disinfectant with his own sandalwood tinged with a hint of smokiness. Fear. Dennis remembers how he’d caught it outside the Pedes room during Pitt Fest the scent drawing him in to a panicking Dr. Robby. He reaches for Dennis’s hands intertwining their fingers his thumb caressing circles across the back of his hands to stop Dennis where he’d scratched his arms in stress, fingernails carving ugly red marks into his forearms. He hadn’t even noticed he was doing it his thoughts consumed with needing Dr. Robby.

“I’m here, I’m sorry. I promise I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving until you tell me too.” Dr. Robby’s rough thumbs circle the promise into Dennis’s skin.

What if he’s lying? He could leave again anytime. Who would stay with their junior while they go through heat? His breath catches, thoughts bashing against his skull relentlessly. Dr. Robby will leave him. Dennis’ll look away for a moment and he’ll be gone. Out in a flash as soon as Dennis’s heat really starts.

Dr. Robby lifts his hand and Dennis allows himself to be manhandled—enjoys the last touches they’ll have before he leaves. Dr. Robby raises the hand he’s holding, turning it over and peeling at the scent blocker at Dennis’s wrist—gentle to avoid catching skin—until it falls to the ground before pressing his nose between the veins and deep into the scent mark.

Scenting him.

Dr. Robby’s scenting him. Like they’re pack mates; lovers even.

Dennis’s eyes flutter shut closing out the spiral that’s trying to worm it’s way into his brain at what’s happening—Dr. Robby is scenting him—breath slowing as he presses his wrist up into the touch. Dr. Robby groans, rubbing his nose against the wrist. Dr. Robby likes his scent.

They’re pressed together Dr. Robby pulling long hits of Dennis’s scent; Dennis’s head dangling back over the chair, hand unclenching, compliant to Dr. Robby’s every touch.

Dennis watches, unblinking, as whilst barely pulling his face away Dr. Robby rolls his sleeve up catches his scent patch between his teeth and rips it off. Glue catches on his lip as he spits it out, and Dennis reaches, shaking, to pull it off. Dr. Robby holds his bare wrist a few inches away from Dennis’s nose, offering.

As if Dr. Robby hasn’t broken his brain enough today.

“If you want…” he doesn’t get to finish Dennis pouncing forward, free hand grabbing his wrist, fingers clasping tight as he presses his nose hard against it his breath audible as he gasps in mouthfuls of Dr. Robby’s scent.

It’s heaven. Dennis can hardly exhale before he’s inhaling again, desperate to ingest more. It’s like the scent from his jacket but more complex. Smokier, richer, with hints of bourbon and musk and other details that he loses in the haze; a banquet that Dennis feels undeserving to feast on but he’ll spend the rest of his life doing so if he’s allowed. His skin is surprisingly soft, hair tickling as he noses over his wrist and rubs his cheek against it. His fingers press indents into Dr. Robby’s wrist as he continues to scent him sucking in as much as possible whilst he’s still allowed.

The world continues to move around them but Dennis has no clue too lost in scenting to notice the nurses prepping the room. Food, water and medicine are all being moved in and out, but you could walk an elephant into the ER and there’d be no reaction from him.

Dennis mellows, frantic scenting slowly calming as Dr. Robby’s scent settles a wave of stillness over him, heat and desire shifting from bursting to a simmering need. His panic settles to a slow, easy breath, pupils shrinking, his frenzied scenting lulling into occasional inhales. As the panic leaves him the scent haze clears thoughts coming back in to focus and look at what he’s doing to his attending. “I - Dr. Robby, shit. I’m scenting you, oh, I’m sorry—I’m so sorry!” He shoves their joint hands away from his face dropping them to his lap fingers still circling the wrist that’s emitting that illicit scent, unable to fully sever their connection. Guilt pools in his stomach at forcing Dr. Robby to do this just because he’s the idiot who’s having his heat at work.

The way Dr. Robby lovingly smiles at him—a look he’s never seen on the man before—instantly melts away any guilt that Dennis feels. How could you feel guilty when the man you trust most is looking at you as if you’ve never done a thing wrong in your life? It sends another wave of slick down Dennis’s thighs. Stupid heat. If only he could blame every awkward interaction he’s had with Dr. Robby—past, present and future—on his heat. The long, heated looks; desperately following him around like a lost dog; digging around the PMTC for every hint of his past or personal life like a sniffer dog looking for the bomb that would make him fall out of love. It never came and instead he fell deeper and deeper for Dr. Robby every new bit of information turning him more and more into the lovesick idiot Trinity referred to him as.

The slick though, he can blame that on the heat even as he imagines Dr. Robby looking at him with those eyes in bed the hazy morning sun shining on his face as they wake up together—a future he’s sure they’ll never have.

“Don’t say sorry. I gave you my wrist to scent to help you calm down.” Dr. Robby’s steadfastly ignores the slick scent, thankfully. “Don’t worry,” he continues, “it’s normal for the scent of a familiar Alpha—a friend, a colleague, a mentor—to have that effect on you.”

Is that true? Maybe for people who are close—and he certain feels close to Dr. Robby—but does Dr. Robby view things the same? Is this how he is with all his juniors? Bile rises in his throat at the thought. “But I need to leave now. Your heat’s not over and this is the calm before the storm. Soon things are really gonna kick off and no Alpha can be here for that. I’ll bring you something of mine so you can have my scent to calm…”

“Why can’t you be here?” The words are thrown out of him. There’s a pressing ache in his stomach, heat burning at the hollowness inside of him. His body knows what it requires, even as he’s mortified at the words from his own mouth. No way would Dr. Robby wouldn’t want to stay with him! He’s an idiot for even asking.

Dr. Robby rubs his free hand against his face, groaning into it. He’s probably trying to figure out how to tell Dennis no without causing a HR problem. “Dennis, I know I’m your attending and maybe you haven’t noticed but I’m an unmated Alpha.”

Dennis’s scoffs. Haven’t noticed? He sees it in every interaction—between them and others—fear spiking as Dr. Robby flirts and is flirted with. Nightmares about him arriving at work with a mate mark have plagued Dennis all pre-heat.

Dr. Robby continues unperturbed, “If I stay here with you then I’ll be overwhelmed by the urge to mate you and I…” the pause is suffocating as he presses his head to Dennis’s thigh, “honestly I don’t think I can stop that urge” he admits with a shake of his head.

Just mate me then.” Someone kill Dennis now! Why can’t he think for a second before he speaks?

“Jesus” Dr. Robby chokes out. “I think you’re too far gone to be asking me that,” his teeth are gritted, head tight against Dennis’s thigh as if he can’t bare to look up.

“Should I get Dr Santos in here? She can tell you I’ve been calling your name every night for the past week in what I guess was pre-heat. Was that far enough back?” Dennis slams back, fingers curling into Robby’s hair, pulling him forward so their sweaty foreheads are pressed together heat oppressive between them. “Or should we go further back? She can tell you how she’s been teasing me about my crush on you since my first day at the here?” His fingers tighten in Dr. Robby’s hair, brows stitching together as his begs to be listened to. He’s sick of other people deciding who gets to mate him. He wants Dr. Robby, a pull deep inside dragging him towards the Alpha. He’s never shared a heat before and there’s no one else he wants but Dr. Robby. No one makes him feel as safe, heard, and seen. No one’s as thoughtful, as caring, as understanding. So why isn’t he listening right now when Dennis needs him the most?

Does he not want it?

He smells like he wants it. But, maybe that’s just a biological reaction to being near an Omega in heat. That might be all Dennis is to him, another one of probably countless faceless Omega’s who’ve thrown themselves at him. All asking for too much, wanting too much. Everyone knows Dr. Robby has the itch—never settling down.The lack of mating bite is his own choice after all. It hits him like a spear stabbing sharp through chest. He’s unwanted yet again. His eyes wet unwillingly, head lowering, scrubbing at them with the back of his hand as he realises he’s another brainless Omega confusing heat lust with real desire.

“Leave. If you don’t want me then go. But don’t bring me anything with your scent on,” he spits out, tears threatening to overflow held back only by his desire to not embarrass himself anymore. The room brims with his bitter lemon scent as he shoves Dr. Robby away—firm hand pressed against his solid chest—trying to ignore the pull to keep touching. The corner of the room is now very interesting, a wonderful poster about sepsis or heat exhaustion or who knows what capturing all of his attention as he steadfastly ignores his intense draw to Dr. Robby. Watching him leave will destroy something integral that might be irreparable; seeing the one person he desires most not wanting him.

There’s a long, unbearable pause the scent thick with Dennis’s earthiness turned damp suffocating the room in his melancholy.

“You,” Dr. Robby growls, and Dennis’s head snaps up to find his dark gaze on the nurses not him. “Out. Now.”

The nurses scurry out. He’s never seen them so eager to follow instructions before. Alpha voice does wonders.

They wait for the room to clear Dr. Robby tapping his foot as the door swings closed.

Click.

Immediately his hand is in Dennis’s hair, another round his back, sliding him out of the wheelchair and into Robby’s lap sweaty skin melding together. “Finally,” Dr. Robby says as they lock lips in a hot, loaded kiss; their noses bump together, lips crushing, feverish as they push and pull against each other both greedy for more.

It’s nothing like how Dennis had imagined their first kiss to be—slow, gentle and cautious; perhaps happening after a long shift together. It’s better. Messy, fiery and devouring; shooting lighting down to the tips of his fingers. He moans into the kiss fingers bruising Dr. Robby’s biceps holding onto this fever dream moment.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment you walked into my ER,” Dr. Robby gasps as they pull back, already breathless, sliding cold fingers down to hold onto Dennis’s thin waist. Dennis whimpers at the touch grinding down as he feels Dr. Robby’s stiff cock beneath him. Every inch of his skin is burning every nerve ending about to burst as Dr. Robby’s fingers glide over them.

“Bed,” Dennis’ pants plastering closer to Dr. Robby instead, pressing hot kisses to his slightly chapped lips, uninterested in getting them their himself. The wheelchair clatters against the side of the room as Robby kicks it from behind them, his hand wrapped tight around his waist to raise him up. He peppers soft kisses across his lips hands trailing down to squeeze his arse, pressing a high whine from Dennis, before pulling away to drag the two of them towards the bed. Bed. Mating. The thought almost has Dennis on the floor, but he doesn’t want to be mated on the floor. At least not this time.

Dennis tumbles onto the bed barely taking a second away from Dr. Robby to get settled before he’s back exploring. The bed’s big enough for two if needed, but it’s just a hospital bed. Dennis couldn’t act like that hadn’t been one of his fantasies. Dr. Robby and himm hands all over each other, too impatient to wait until they get home sneaking into an empty room to have sex. That image had filled many nights with his fingers.

Those future fantasies quickly slide from his thoughts replaced with the here and now. The feeling of the real Dr. Robby on his skin warm and soft and about to fuck him. His hand cards through Dr. Robby’s hair before the other slides under his shirt pressing at his thick, hairy stomach nails dragging down it. The soft moan from Dr. Robby does not help the sticky situation between his legs slick oozing from him as he continues to explore. He finally has his hands on the man he’s wanted for so long now the body that’s be the subject of every thought; who’s effigy he could paint without reference, every inch pressed into the fibre of his being. It feels impossible that his heat hasn’t fully started yet his body’s so desperate to cling on to Dr. Robby—to claim and be claimed by him.

“Please, Dr. Robby… it’s, I please…” The words are gone. Lost in the fuzz in his brain thoughts moving past too fast for him to snatch at anything useful. He whines as Dr. Robby’s lips begin trailing down his jaw the soft scratch of beard causing him to slick more the pulsating between his legs so intense he’s certain he’s soaked through his scrubs.

“Baby, I’ve got you. I know you need something inside you soon before your heat starts fully. It’ll soothe the hormones and cause the peak to be less intense,” Dr. Robby soothes, his medical knowledge coming out even in this situation.

Seriously? Why is Dennis getting a lecture right now instead of something in his cunt? His hips jerk up pressing his wet crotch to Dr. Robby’s hardening prick. “Please,” he begs, any semblance of modesty gone.

Dr. Robby circles his hips against him Dennis arching up into the touch. But he doesn’t go any further. Instead he continues his mouths descent downwards teeth grazing over Dennis’s scent patch covered neck. The pause is unbearable. He’s going to mark him. Before he’s even buried inside, he’ll bite down, marking Dennis, branding him as his own. Dennis’s not even sure it will work this early in his heat and without a knot but oh does he want to try.

Instead, Dr. Robby pulls back. Dennis watches confused as he reaches across and picks up a collar that one of the nurses had left on a med cart nearby. There are med carts nearby. What else is there that he can’t see, bound up entirely in heat and Dr. Robby? He could only tell you what room he’s in from his earlier tours of the hospital; he has no clue what’s going outside of the man in front of him. But Dr. Robby does. Biting a deep, bloody wound into his lip, he tries to focus on more than the hurt curling in his gut as Dr. Robby speaks.

“I’m gonna collar you, okay? And then we’ll get started.”

So he’d lied. Hadn’t he promised they’d mate?

“Oh, and please call me Robby. Not Dr. Not here.” Dr. Robby—Robby adds with a laugh. Idiot. He always looks so cute, even when he’s being an asshole.

“Does… I mean do I have to wear it? The collar?” There’s the hidden question. Didn’t you promise you’d mate me?

He can’t stop himself he’s about to have Robby’s cock inside of him and he was promised a mate mark. He wants Robby’s mate mark. This is the man he’s been imagining mating him since the day they first met. The man who brought the idea of being a mated Omega back into his life when he thought he’d left it for good.

“I mean… you said you had the urge. Did something change?” He just wants to know the truth. It’s already too much—making Robby stay here for his heat. Pushing him to do something he doesn’t want to is the last thing Dennis wants, but he doesn’t want this to end with Robbys teeth sunken into a collar. He wants mates, not strangers—never touching, kissing or holding each other again. A deep aching part in his soul feels as if their soulmates; a concept he thought he’d given up when he’d presented and learnt he’d have an arranged marriage—it’s funny how things come back around.

Robby turns to him, collar in hand his knuckles white in a vice-like grip, “it’s not that I don’t want to. I want to. Desperately. If you don’t wear this collar, I will mate you.” He finally looks up at Dennis gaze shifting from where it had been solely on the collar. “Whitaker, bonding is a big decision—a forever decision. It’s not something I’m taking lightly and it’s not something you should be either. I think,” he takes a shaky breath, “ I think it would be a good idea for you to wear the collar.” The collar is forced into Dennis’s hands Robby’s tight grip opening to show the indents from the hardware carved into his palm. He’s leaving Dennis with the decision. He won’t take what he wants; he never takes what he wants content to sit on the sideline and do only what’s needed of him—no matter how damage it causes. Would he have done anything had Dennis asked another Alpha to share his heat, or if he’d had an Alpha at home? Or would he have done what he always does, pushed his feelings down and acted like they don’t matter like he’s a robot, built for running The Pitt and nothing else.

Dennis considers the collar, turning it in his hands, fingers grazing across the stiff leather. It looks uncomfortable. He doesn’t want an uncomfortable heat. He hoists it up, throwing it to the corner of the room and flinching only a little as it crashes against the wall.

Maybe he should think about it more. That’s what he would he would do if he wasn’t in heat—worry until he talks himself out of what he wants. But he and Robby are meant to be mates, because of—not despite—their differences and the difficulties it will cause them. Robby always knows how to support and care for him, reaching a hand or a word out to him when he’s in need. Robby reaches for him when he’s in need, hand clamping on Dennis’s neck, shoulder, waist, anywhere he can grab to settle himself. Dennis can feel it in the shake of his fingers; he’s reaching for comfort, and Dennis will always be his pillar. Their spark is the one that he’s read about real soulmates having, the inexplicable feeling that gravitates them together, finding each other in between patients, on the roof after tough days, catching each others eyes during a moment no one else notices. Besides, they both want this, and that should be enough. His choice.

He reaches upwards turning Robby’s shocked face towards him. They kiss slowly, sensually their lips parting slightly. After only a moment he pulls away thumb brushing through the rough scratch of Robby’s beard. “I hope the second you knot me you can’t resist mating me.” He circles his now soaked crotch against Robby’s half hard one. “Also I really hope you get your fingers, your mouth, your cock or something inside of me before I die,” he whines grinding his cunt against Robby’s cock, legs shaking. The heat is building up again, the promise that he’ll be mated enough to shut off his rational mind and let his heat fully take over.

“Oh fuck,” he arches into Robby’s fingers as they slip under his scrubs and straight into his underwear. Did he wear his good underwear today? The thoughts gone before he can really ponder it two fingers pressing into his cunt without warning enough to silence all thoughts. Instead, he’s panting into Robby’s shoulder biting at his shirt to keep from screaming for more.

“Look at that,” he hears Robby croon as he’s jerking his hips, coming apart on his fingers. “You’re so slick that you took two fingers like they were nothing,” he praises, his other hand rubbing the back of Dennis’s neck in a mimicry of praising him at work. The noise that leaves him is barely human a wail—begging for more, touching, talking, everything. How will he ever focus on work again if Robby touches him like that?

Two fingers refocus his attention in reality curled deep inside; Robby clearly searching for something. Dennis’s hips buck into the touch, slick seeping down Robby’s hand, as he squelches his fingers in and out. “I don’t know what you’re doing but,” he moans, “just please give me more.” Previous heats had never left him like this, tingling from his fingertips to his pussy. He’d mostly spent them suffering at home trying not to touch himself for fear of God’s wrath. Then when he’d left Nebraska touching himself with just his fingers, getting through with thoughts of whoever he was crushing on. That was until he stopped his heats for good.

He knew it wasn’t safe. He’s studied it. Delaying your heat causes a change in progesterone and oestrogen depriving your Omega, stopping heat-like behaviours: nesting, looking after someone, being looked after, physical touch, scenting, getting fucked so good your brain turns off. Those things can be helped with good suppressants, doing those behaviours regularly outside of heat, and having a heat cycle once every 6 months at least, but Dennis had done none of that.

The results of his failures were worse than he’d anticipated.

The itch under his skin. The burning in the tips of his fingers every time he touches Robby. The deep, expansive hollowness every time he pulls back, even for a second, as if his chest cavity has been cracked opened organs pulled out and spilled on the floor and Robby is now digging inside him, long fingers caressing every nerve ending.

“Robby, please,” Dennis’s nails press deep into his shoulders through scrubs and into skin, carving a hold into him. “I can take it. I need it.” His eyes wet in frustration at his inability to explain his desires properly. All he can think about is the itch in his skin, the ache in his cunt and the fact that Alpha’s cock is not in him right now.

“Baby, baby I’ve got you.” Robby soothes, sliding a third finger in. It meets no restriction. Dennis’s body is so prepared for heat that it could take anything right now, his hole spreading wide around every offering. Robby’s fingers scrape against his sensitive core as he drags his fingers in and out, still pressing probingly inside Dennis, Dennis gasping as he rocks into the touch. A few desperate moments later Dennis is shaking hard as he curls his fingers to the left just so. Oh shit. Electric shoots through him, hips shuddering, body rocking back and forth as he cries out in pleasure. He grinds down into the touch chasing Robby’s fingers as he hits that spot relentlessly, shuddering through an orgasm. He spurts hard soaking Robby’s wrist, but his fingers don’t stop unbothered as he drags his fingers in and out of Dennis teasing the newfound spot—coaxing more and more cries out of Dennis as he comes.

As the waves of orgasm subside he flattens against the bed gasping for breath as Robby finally, finally slows his fingers allowing Dennis a moment of respite. “You…that..fuck,” is all he can get out between shallow breaths.

Post orgasm his heat haze slowly withdraws, and he’s reminded of what he just happened—he just squirted on Robby’s fingers. Opening one eye cautiously, he looks up at Robby, snapping his eyes shut as he sees him grinning widely. The tingling returns—deep in his stomach this time—and he knows he’s turning red, suddenly self conscious now the edge had been taken off. The fuzz in his mind has parted slightly his thoughts showing him exactly how he must look having just soaked Robby’s arm after only a few minutes of fingering. He probably looks like a kid, coming so quickly. “What?” He presses his face into the now saliva soaked shoulder of Robby’s shirt wondering if it’s too late to go back and listen to Trinity’s unsolicited sex advice she liked to give every time they went drinking. “I promise I don’t usually come that quick.”

Robby laughs, “it’s not a bad thing. It was hot,” he’s so sincere every time he gives a compliment. That’s hot. It makes him feel like maybe he’s not just some awkward, inexperienced ‘Huckleberry’. He lifts his head to peer out grateful for the kind words, wanting to see Robby properly, and that’s when Robby curls his fingers inside hitting that spot again. The heat is duller, like poking an old bruise. It’s worse Dennis decides after a few moments of long fingers stroking deep inside. Without the high of needing the edge gone he can feel everything. The rough pads of Robby’s fingers; how deep they get —Robby’s fingers longer and thicker than his own; the way he strokes against the top of Dennis’ cunt so sweetly as he pulls the fingers out before slamming back in to tease at his sweet spot. “Besides, this side of you might be my new favourite.”Dennis squirms, eyes scrunched, thighs squeezing together trying to draw Robby in or push him out, he’s not sure.

It’s too much and not enough. Stupid Alpha with his annoying laugh and annoyingly long fingers. He reaches a shaking hand down struggling to think as he’s being pounded by Robby’s fingers, getting no respite from the constant pressing at his core. If he wants more he’ll have to take it himself.

Every movement feels like wading through syrup the journey down their bodies a lifetime until he finally meets his destination; sliding down into the front of Robby’s scrubs—soaked from Dennis’s slick—he cups his straining cock. “Shit, Dennis,” the tremor in his voice is music to Dennis’s ears; the way Robby’s cock swells in his hand, pulsating as he circles around him caressing teasingly from base to tip makes his cunt throb. Robby’s desperate for this too.

“I need this inside of me,” he tries to sound cool but his voice comes out high and reedy; his desperate pushing down of Robby’s scrubs with his left hand and the hastening strokes of his right hand further exposing him.

“Okay, okay, kid. Give me a minute. I’ll give you want you need, okay.” Robby’s cracks but Dennis can tell he’s not annoyed, eyes crinkling as he looks down at him. He’s worked up. That makes two of them. Robby pulls him into a hot, sensual kiss the hand that’s not buried deep in his cunt twisting into the hair at the back of his neck extracting a moan from deep inside Dennis as Robby tastes every corner of him. “I’m your Alpha aren’t I? I’ll give you everything.”

His Alpha. Dennis nods, whining when Robby pulls his fingers out, cunt tightening, desperate to keep something, anything inside of him. “Can’t keep them inside if I’m putting my cock in you,” Robby said, lips pressed flat in an apology. Dennis slicks hips fucking up against the emptiness imagining keeping him there, his fingers and cock forever inside of him, everything of Robby’s swallowed by Dennis’s cunt never to be released again. “Well, maybe sometime I can make that happen for you, okay?” Robby laughs and Dennis flushes, just enough sense to be embarrassed by his sluttiness. “For now, I wanna give you my knot, but you’ve gotta be undressed for that first.”

The instructions are good for Dennis his brain so full of Alpha and empty that anything more complex would confuse him. Lucky Robby’s always such a good teacher, giving instructions clearly and precisely, taking the reins for Dennis when he doesn’t know what to do.

Robby keeps him in his lap peeling off his shirt and pressing kisses down his torso as he explores Dennis’s body. His lips skate teasingly across Dennis’s nipples shooting electric straight to Dennis’s cunt. He doesn’t play properly though lips continuing their focused descent. Every scent gland he comes to he delicately peels back each scent blocker, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, apologising for each wince as the skin catches. He moves fast, strips Dennis’s clothes with experienced precision, following the same pattern as before: kisses across every new creamy expanse, the careful removal of scent patches, mouth and nose pressed to each gland to drink in of more and more of Dennis’s scent as he goes. Lastly, his lips find Dennis’s thighs sucking and licking at the scent glands until Dennis is gasping, bucking up and pressing his cunt to Robby’s face. He still has enough awareness to apologise, but Robby pulls back, stubble shining wet with slick, licking his lips like he’s never tasted anything better and Dennis swallows his words. That’s way too hot to apologise for.

He reaches to tug at Robby’s shirt, pulling him forward to grab at the scent blocker on his neck tearing with far less care than Robby had shown him releasing a fresh wave of his scent into the room. The tobacco and sandalwood washes over Dennis, a deep need growing inside, slick running down his thighs. The scent is crushing. His entire being is becoming Robby focus narrowing so much nothing exists outside of them. Who cares he’s in the hospital or he’s at work or that Trinity’s probably kicking up a huge fuss or if his parents even think about him anymore. There’s no room for it. Only Robby, his scent, and fingers, and cock.

“In.” he growls, pure instinct now. “If you’re not in me in the next 30 seconds I’ll die.”

Robby pushes him down onto the bed sliding off his trousers and shoes in such a smooth motion that a non-heat addled Dennis might think about all the people he’s had to do that to before to be so skilled at it; might panic and worry about his lack of experience comparitively. Right now, his only thoughts are about Robby inside of him. Robby winces as he rips the scent blocker on his own thigh off; grabbing a condom from the med cart and ripping it open with his teeth. Dennis whimpers eyes turned down realising what his Alpha is doing—keeping him from what’s his. His knot, his pups. Cloudy storms fill his head no room for logic about why he shouldn’t and doesn’t want to get impregnated right now. Just the thought that Robby doesn’t want to pup him.

Robby’s hand freezes, condom pulled out of the package ready to be used. Dennis looks back up, whining, his wet eyes turn to focusing on the discarded wheelchair in the corner of the room. Anything but watching Robby put that thing on.

The condom flies across his vision hitting the floor with a smack. Wide blue eyes turn to meet narrow brown ones, and Robby’s watching him with desperate heat. He’s going to pup Dennis.

He stares hungrily as Robby pumps his cock before sliding a hand under Dennis’ thigh and hiking his leg up, pausing for a moment to ogle at his shiny, dripping wet hole, before he’s pressing himself inside. The squelch as his cock pushes in past the fountain of slick is obscene almost as loud as the desperate moan Dennis can’t hold back: head thrown, spine arching, hips pressing down—his body accepting Robby’s cock as if it was made for him.

“More,” he begs, grinding his hips down, his foot curling up around Robby’s back pushing himself down desperately on his cock; he doesn’t need air as much as he needs Robby right now. “Alpha please,” he cries out unable to coherently word what he needs his body showing Robby instead hips rocking on the rod that’s splitting him open.

Robby pushes all the way in a guttural cry forcing it’s way out of Dennis at the intrusion the pain overwhelmed by the relief of two bodies finally becoming one as he’d imagined ever since they met.

He pulls Robby down into a sloppy kiss their lips devouring each other fluids mixing top and bottom. He catches Robby’s bottom lip in his teeth, nibbling, purring in satisfaction at how it reddens. A rumble blooms from deep inside his chest at the image of his Alpha marked up—any one who dares to look knowing immediately that he’s taken.

“Move!” He demands, biting hard into Robby’s shoulder mere inches from his scent gland a metallic tang of blood hitting his tongue. A mark of claim before the real mark of claim. Robby is his, and everyone will know that one way or another.

Robby’s thrusts are fast and shallow the alpha grunting as Dennis ravages his neck. Skin presses to skin fusing them together. Dennis growls, frustrated, those shallow jabs not hitting that deep, sparking part of him that makes him come. He circles his hips pressing his heel into Robby’s back. “More,” he demands.

Robby understands immediately pulling out nearly all the way. He looks down for a moment at where they connect eyes wide and manic; looking at Dennis’s hole as if it’s both precious and dangerous. Dennis is about to start begging when he fucks into him as hard as he can, Dennis’s back arching off the bed ankle pressing what’s sure to be a bruise into Robby’s back as he blabbers nonsense.

“I got you, I got you,” Robby promises, squeezing his neck, thumb grazing across the unmarked scent gland, which drags a desperate cry out of Dennis, before sliding his hand down to settle on his hips fingers pressing their own bruises into the curve of his arse.

His hips buck uncontrollably, Dennis’s pussy meeting him with the tight squeeze every time he bottoms out, clenching as he pulls back. “Your cunt feels so good taking me in,” he growls, teeth scraping against Dennis’s throat, fucking in harder at the howl Dennis lets out. It burns skin electric where teeth press into him. “So soft, so wet,” he stretches the final word as he slides almost fully out Dennis’s hips lifting in chase, “so perfect for me to knot. Gonna fill you with my pups.”

Dennis shakes, his cunt in a vice grip around Robby as he bucks into the touch erratically crying out his wishes in an indistinguishable mix of “Please,” “Pups,” “Yes!“ as he’s fucked through his second orgasm; shocks shoot down his limbs, hips shuddering into Robby’s cock as his nails scratch their desperate need into his shoulders. There’s no slowing down, even as the feeling of pleasure turns into overwhelm and his face presses into the salty sweat of Robby’s neck as he begs unintelligibly. Stop? Go? Who knows.

It doesn’t take a minute until he’s red hot again, cunt throbbing for more. For his knot. His mate mark.

“Alpha please, please. Knot. Please?” Inhibitions are long gone, shame a feeling he can’t comprehend. In a few days time when his heat has settled and he’s not thinking entirely with his pussy his logical, Huckleberry brain will stress over every little thing he’s saying. Right now he couldn’t give two shits so long as he gets what he wants. He turns his chin up, looking at Robby wistfully eyes downturned as if he’s asking for something he’ll never get—that puppy-dog look that Trinity always tell him makes Robby soft on him.

“It’s yours, baby. I promise, everything is yours.” Robby swears, pressing their lips tenderly together, looking at Dennis as if he deserves the whole world. The look really works.

Robby plows forward grinding down when he’s fully seated before pulling back and thrusting in rough and passionate. Their skin slaps together, slick soaking the bed as Dennis sinks his nails into Robby’s shoulder moaning his name over and over Dennis presses his hips back against Robby’s—desperately impatient for his knot. He curls a hands into his salt-and-pepper hair tugging hard as he crashed their lips together, devouring him as he gasps into his mouth. His cunt stretches, cock growing inside of him. Knot, he registers faintly.

“Shit,” Robby growls against Dennis’s lips, eyes dark as he buries himself to the hilt hips juttering against the base of Dennis’s cunt as he finally pumps his pups into him. There’s one final peck before he licks down Dennis’s neck, tongue licking flat against his skin, before his teeth clamp his hard over his scent mark.

The sharp pain is nothing compared to the completeness that overwhelms Dennis. The hot pump of cum filling him, the bright lights, the stickiness of sweat against slick all fades; all he can hear is his heartbeat. Not his heartbeat—theirs. Beating together, mates never to be separated again.

The world fades back in as Robby pulls away: the cool sweat of his skin against Dennis’s, the slightly rough texture of the sheets that he hadn’t noticed before, his desert dry throat. He looks up to see Robby tongue swiping blood off his teeth and Dennis’s stomach swoops. He pulls Robby in for a kiss gentle and loving, softer that they’d had when they were fucking. The need to consume has tempered a little now that he has Robby’s knot locked inside him. The kiss tastes like his own blood, metallic and sharp, before he kisses past that and tastes Robby; he tastes like menthol cigarettes now. He tastes like Dennis.

Dennis pulls back, littering soft kisses down Robby’s scratchy stubble, a feeling he’d thought he’d learn to tolerate starting to become something he enjoys, before pressing a soft kiss to his scent mark. He looks up for permission reddening when Robby says simply “Go ahead,” with a small chuckle. He’s right, it’s a funny thing to ask. Robby had bit him already, marked him as his own, but he when he looks up he still sees Dr. Robby gloved up, guiding him through an emergency. It’ll probably take a while to get used to him as more than just an attending. He takes a breath, baring his teeth and sinking down into Robby’s neck. The taste is bitter, metallic. Why had he expected it to taste good? He looks down surprised to feel of a fresh round of cum spurting from Robby’s cock just as it had started slowing down. Pervert.

He keeps his teeth in for a few moments ensuring the bite mark will stay before pulling back and licking the wound. There’s no overflow of adrenalin, no click of two halves becoming whole. Only an Alpha can make the first mate mark after all but that doesn’t matter. He’s marked. Dennis’s forever. It made him itchy, Robby walking around bare necked even though it was none of his business. But bare necked meant patients and colleagues flirting, well-meaning older patients trying to set him up with their grandchildren and faking laughs as Princess and Perlah repeated all those stories trying his best to hide the acridity rising in his scent.

No more. Robby is marked. His.

Robby reaches to thumb the blood off his chin as he adjusts them moving so that they’re cuddling on their sides face-to-face. Dennis winces at the sharp pain as the knot catches a little and Robby stops, running a hand through Dennis’s hair to soothe him. “Sorry, baby. Just trying to get us comfy,” with a soft kiss he moves once again, slower this time. He’s always so soft, a kindness Dennis hadn’t realised he’d missed so dearly until he’d felt it that first day of the Pitt Fest. A compassion that never left him even when things got tough as Robby got angry or stressed, a soothing, apologetic hand reaching out to squeeze his neck an apology in his eyes. Robby picks up a water bottle from the med cart, opening it and pressing it to Dennis’s lips. “Drink up, you look thirsty,” he says.

He noticed. Had their bond made him aware of Dennis’s thirst or was that just Robby? He was already always forcing him for breaks after a particularly tough patient loss, or throwing him a protein bar before he’d realised he was hungry.

The water tastes like heaven in his dry throat; he gulps down half the bottle at once whining as it’s pulled away from him. “You’ll be sick,” Robby says, but he’s not chastising the crinkles at the corners of his eyes showing far too much fondness for that. He presses an affectionate kiss to Dennis’s lips, thumb stroking his cheekbone in slow tenderness. “There’ll be more.” Kisses? Water? Both hopefully.

Robby presses kiss after kiss to his lips, pulling back as if to speak, before being drawn back in for another kiss. “I adore you.” Kiss. “I’m sorry this had to happen like this.” Kiss. “I’m so glad I get to be the one here with you.” A longer, more intimate kiss; mouths open, Dennis’s hands exploring the broadness of Robby’s chest. “I promise you’ll never go through another heat without me.” He says as he finally draws himself back, fingers pressing into the soft curve of Dennis stomach. Is he feeling himself inside, or imagining the pups he just fucked into Dennis rounding him.

Dennis squeezes his eyes tight, breath ragged, not just from the kisses or imagining being pupped by Robby. The doubt had been creeping in for a moment, his heat hormones being satiated by Robby’s knot allowing for rational thought to take over. He’d practically forced Robby to mate him. What if he hadn’t really wanted it? For him to feel that doubt and to reassure him so clearly and honestly was so gorgeously Robby that it proved even when Dennis didn’t think he could adore him anymore he could.

He begins to kiss his way up Robby’s body as far as his lips can reach. “Thank you.” Chest. “I’m so glad it’s you.” Shoulder. “It was only ever you.” Scent mark, dragging a hiss from Robby. “I never imagined you’d want this, but I can’t imagine it being anyone but you,” Dennis finally looks up cheeks red and eyes heavy but he’s focused wanting to be is this moment forever.

They world outside is still waiting for them, but right now this heat is theirs and theirs alone; even if everyone walking down the hall hears way too much of it over the next three days.