Archive of Our Own

It's weird. Aside from the one time Dennis caught Robby breaking down in Peds the day of the Pittfest shooting, he's never seen him with his guard down. But they're in his condo — his big, expensive, well-decorated bachelor pad — and Robby is showering in the other room. He told Dennis the door man would let him.  

It smells like him. That's the first thing Dennis notices. It's really subtle, but he's spent way too long fixated on the way Robby smells not to notice. It's a light mix of detergent, some kind of candle or incense, and sweat.  

The second thing he notices is the sprawling view of the river. They're on the twelfth story of an expensive condo, and Dennis has never set foot in a place this nice in his life. It's too big for one person, but decked out for hosting. There's a big mahogany bar, a record player and sound system, a massive sectional and a projector situation. Legend has it Robby would host parties for the team before COVID, but nothing has happened since. Probably for a number of reasons.  

It still feels vulnerable, somehow. There's a picture of Jake framed on one of the bookshelves. Dennis knows they haven't talked much since the incident. There's mail from the bank and an open FedEx package with what looks like a tire puncture repair kit inside. There's a photo of a younger Robby and Dr. Adamson on the fridge, next to another of Adamson and Dana. Aside from these details, the place is more or less barren. Like whoever lives here only floats in and out, leaving little evidence behind.  

Dennis doesn't really know what to do with himself, or his limbs. He settles for walking over to the view. His hair is still a little wet from his own shower, and he's oppressively aware of the fact that he wore some of his slightly nicer clothes — a $35 t-shirt Trinity forced him to buy because she was sick of seeing holes in his shirts, and a pair of Levi's he splurged on with one of his first paycheques. It's literally just a t-shirt and jeans, but it took him half an hour to put together for some reason. He even wore his newest socks.  

Why do I even care? He's just a guy. It's what Dennis tells himself every time he catches himself thinking of Dr. Robby as some enigmatic, larger-than-life figure. He’s still intimidating, even after all these months, even after seeing him cry that cursed first day. They have a solid rapport, and Dennis knows Robby's fond of him. But they're attached to the whole mentor/mentee thing and rarely relax. Dennis has no idea what Robby's like outside of work.  

And now he's naked in the other room. Fuck youuu, Dennis mumbles to himself, pressing his palms over his eyes. Don't be a dumbass. Sue him. He doesn't get out much, and most of his free time is spent doing gruntwork for a beautiful, sweet woman he's sworn he will never pursue out of fanatical devotion to the AMA state licensing boards.  

Dennis took Robby's words to heart and decided to take the weekend off helping on the farm. Trinity and Mel said something about karaoke, but Dr. Robby had invited him over to show him the place and have a beer. He couldn't really say no. It felt like too rare an opportunity to pass up, despite feeling a little confused that he was offered to house sit, of all people.

Trinity teased him about ditching them for a “date”, and he knew she was fully joking. But it burrowed in his head like a worm, and he's feeling all of the jitters he normally would if this actually were a first date. A mix of apprehensive, socially anxious, and horny. It is so fucking stupid.

He hasn't had sex in about five months, and prior to that it had been two years. Med school had taken over his life, and not having an address didn't help. Five months ago he'd accidentally heard Trinity and Garcia going at it late at night, and he got so shamefully horny he couldn't function. Jacking off was out of the question — it would feel too personal. He needed something to scratch the itch and get his mind off it. So he downloaded Grindr and managed to stumble his way through enough mind-numbing back and forths before a big, hairy line cook offered to take care of things. The guy was fresh off his shift and smelled of sweat and fryer oil, and he fucked Dennis’ brains out over his kitchen counter with a massive hand muffling his mouth. It was awesome. But the condom broke and sent him into a hypochondria spiral the next day. He deleted Grindr after throwing up his second dose of emergency PEP.  

So yeah, you could say he's a real man about town. Dennis presses his forehead to the glass of the window, wallowing. He'd acted weird towards the end of his shift because Dr. Toomarian's eyes on him kept making his guts twist. He makes a mental note to try and get laid as soon as he gets the chance. He can't malfunction around his gorgeous, untouchable colleagues any longer. Doctor's orders.  

He hears the shower turn off, and startles. There's an oval smudge where his forehead and hair were pressed against the glass. Fucking shit, he mouths, frantically looking around for something to wipe it with, coming up blank. Well. Great start.  

“Whitaker.” 

He whips his head around and Dr. Robby is poking his head into the room from the hall, wet with one shirtless shoulder showing. Dennis swallows a lump in his throat.  

“Hi, Sir.” 

Sir? What the fuck, why does God hate him?  

Robby's laughing with his eyes and brows, but his mouth is still obscured by the facial hair. He points to the kitchen with his eyes. “You can grab a beer from the fridge, I'll be out in a second.”  

“Okay. Thanks.” He manages to muster a half smile, trying not to seem too unhinged. He tells himself that he's a regular guy and he can have a beer with his mentor slash colleague. Regular guys do it all the time.  

He doesn't feel like a regular guy.  

He feels bad for chewing out Landon earlier. It felt good, in the moment. He hated the way he could see himself through Landon's eyes, seeing him as the homeless and hapless intern he was only ten months ago. Dennis knows he’s the same person, but a lot has changed since then. He's seen a lot of shit. He feels different now — more competent, more weathered, a tiny bit more sure of himself. Maybe more than a bit more traumatized than before, but that's par for the course. He has probably one pound more muscle on him and sort of a mullet thing going on. But being in Dr. Robby's big condo, being given the door code and the run of the place while he's gone — it's making him feel like a boy wearing his dad's boots, desperate to become a man and not there yet.  

Which is a little pathetic, really. He'll be thirty in a couple years.  

The shiny stainless steel double door fridge contains an open twelve pack of Modelos, blue cheese, and dijon mustard. That's literally it. Dr. Robby is in his mid fifties and his fridge only houses slightly upscale versions of what a college bachelor pad would be minimally stocked with.  

Robby’s earlier “If I don’t come back” bit rings in his head. Surely it was a joke of sorts. He has to eat the rest of his blue cheese. It probably cost a fortune. 

He grabs two beers and opens them with an Old Milwaukee bottle opener magnet on the side of the fridge. He brings them over to the living room, almost mechanically, setting them down on two wooden coasters before sitting in one corner of the massive sectional. It’s so plush and comfortable he kind of wants to scream.  

“Hey,” Dr. Robby says, entering the room. He’s wearing a long sleeve crewneck and grey sweatpants that hang expensively, like they probably cost more than most of what Dennis owns combined. He beelines for the fridge, and Dennis pipes up.  

“I uh, got you a beer. It’s here.” 

Robby raises an eyebrow at him, and glances at the bottles on the table. “Alright then. Thank you.” 

“Nice place,” Dennis continues, rubbing his thighs. He has genuinely no idea what to do with himself. 

“Thanks,” Robby chuckles. “It’s all yours as of tomorrow.” 

Dennis nods. “I probably won’t — I mean I’ll stop by, and stuff. For sure. But I don’t want to leave Santos on her own. We actually work well together.” 

“Yeah?” The corner of Robby’s mouth twitches. He sits next to him a few feet away and grabs his beer, offering to cheers. They clink their glasses together and take a swig.  

“Yeah. She had like, nothing on the walls when I moved in. A bunch of shelves and frames just sitting on the ground. And the shower drain was backed up, and some squirrels had nested on the porch and were shitting everywhere.” He huffs a laugh. “I fixed it up. And it’s nice to live with someone who knows what work is like. When we shoot the shit we don’t need to talk about our days, or whatever. We just watch dumb TV.” 

Robby nods. “You like the company?” 

“I do. She does too, but she’ll never admit it.” 

She admitted it one time, when they ate weed gummies and watched Kangaroo Jack. Trinity said it was the best night of her life. When he pretended to lean in for a kiss, she told him to fuck off and threw a dorito at him. Small wins.  

“I understand,” Robby nods, though he almost looks a bit hurt. He’s thoughtful for a moment. “I’m gonna come back, just so you know. Sorry if I worried you earlier.” 

“Oh.” Dennis blinks, nodding. “No, yeah I wasn’t worried,” he says, lying. 

“You can have Santos over. Watch dumb TV on the projector.” 

“That would be sick, actually. Thanks.” 

They drink again, and Robby grabs a remote from the table and turns on the sound system. 

“You like MF Doom?” 

Dennis blinks. Dr. Robby is asking him if he likes MF Doom. He wants to say yes, because it’s probably the right answer, but his hip hop knowledge is abysmal.  

“This isn’t a test,” Robby adds. He smiles slightly, barely visible behind the stache and beard, and Dennis tries not to look at his mouth too long. “I’m not your attending for three months. You can relax.” 

. . .

Things feel stunted initially, but as time goes on Dennis gets slightly more comfortable. Robby’s asking him a lot of questions, mostly normal, run of the mill stuff. What it’s like living with Trinity, how things are with the street team, the kinds of stuff he does on the farm. He wants to know more about Robby, but he isn’t the one steering the conversation. Eventually, Robby asks about his family.

“My parents don’t really talk to me. ‘Cause of uh,” the bisexuality. “The vaccine thing.” 

It’s half true.  

“They’re antivax?” 

“Since COVID. They think vaccines made me gay.” 

Dr. Robby blinks. “You’re gay?” 

“Sometimes. Cause of the vaccines,” he quips, immediately cringing. He takes a sip of his beer and looks at where the ceiling meets the wall. He wants to peel his skin off his face.  

To his surprise, Dr. Robby laughs. “Ookay.” He takes a sip of his beer and huffs a soft laugh to himself. “Me too, I guess.” 

What.  

They’re at beer number three. It’s more than Dennis has had to drink in ages. It’s loosened them up significantly, though. Enough for… whatever this is.  

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I’ve had experiences.” He looks like he might continue, but then decides against it. Suddenly, Robby’s looking at him, concerned. “You’re being safe, right?” 

“Oh my God,” Dennis laughs. “You don’t need to — I’m being way too safe, if anything. I don’t have much going on at all.” 

Robby puts his hands up. “I get it.” 

“I’m almost thirty,” he adds, self-conscious all of a sudden. Robby raises an eyebrow.  

“You’re twenty-seven.” 

“Almost almost thirty.” 

“Sorry, it’s… I’m sorry about your parents not talking to you.” 

Dennis shrugs one shoulder. “It’s fine, it’s more that I’m not talking to them. I’ve always been closer with my brothers, and they deal with them more than I do, so. They were never the most accepting people.” 

“And your brothers?” 

“Much more so. We grew up on the internet. Exposed to more things, despite my parents' best efforts.” Dennis takes a sip of beer, thinking. “I’d watch Scrubs and House with my brothers, with DVDs from the library. My parents were pretty whatever about it at first. They were hands off. But then my second oldest brother came out, and it didn’t go well at all. He moved to New York, and it was one less set of hands on the farm. And then I wanted to go to Wayne State for Pre Med and they thought it was a waste of time and money. But I didn’t want to spend my life growing corn.” 

Robby nods. “So you left?” 

“Got kicked out,” Dennis says. “I was gonna leave anyway, but it happened before I was planning to.” 

“What happened?” 

He debates whether to answer honestly while downing the last of his beer. Fuck it. “I had some porn saved on my laptop and my dad found it.” 

Robby grimaces. “Oof.” 

“If it had been straight porn he’d probably been proud of me, but it… was not. There was a girl in it, at least. She was just… outnumbered. And mostly watching.” 

They both laugh.  

“Rookie move,” Robby adds. “No password, nothing?”  

“I was an idiot. Still am, so.” 

“No, you’re not.”  

Dr. Robby says it with such sincerity, all of a sudden. His eyes are locked on Dennis in a way that makes him feel a little exposed.  

“Don’t sell yourself short, Whitaker.” 

I’m talking about porn with my attending. I’m three beers in and definitely attracted to him. He’s thirty years older than me and he’s my boss and I need to get my head out of the gutter before I embarrass myself.  

“We can be good doctors and idiots at the same time. I feel like I kind of need to be stupid a little bit. Everyone needs to.” 

Robby smiles. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” His ears feel hot, all of a sudden. “You got anything else to drink?” 

. . . 

Robby offered him some nice top shelf whiskey he made him promise not to drink in his absence. It’s reassuring knowing he’s thinking of coming home to his liquor collection.  

It’s delicious. They drink it neat out of these beautiful crystal tumblers, and it relaxes them, finally. 

Robby asks why Dennis studied theology in undergrad, and it unearths a lot of stuff he rarely talks about. He mentions how his parents are “religious” but don’t know anything about Christian scripture. They’d shy away from uncomfortable conversations about faith, bigotry, death. But Dennis was always curious. He talks about being ten and watching Scrubs with his brothers, and that episode “My Old Lady” where they all face dying patients.

“Even then, I knew doctors ‘saving lives’ were just delaying death. I’d help our neighbours deliver calves, and sometimes we’d need to save them, or kill them. And I was always wondering why I felt so comfortable around animals dying, but people dying was such a taboo. I felt like if I wanted to be a good doctor, I needed to at least learn about death somehow. I read Being Mortal a bit later when I was fifteen, and When Breath Becomes Air, and I decided to study theology along with my PreMed credits in undergrad because I wanted to at least try to… I dunno. Understand it, somehow. And medicine didn’t have all the answers I wanted.” 

Robby’s gazing at him with a soft smile when he looks up. He nods. “You read Being Mortal when you were fifteen?”

Dennis nods. 

“Took me until I was forty-three,” Robby chuckles. “I was almost scared of it.”

“I don’t blame you. All of it still scares me. But… you know what I’m gonna say.”

That earns him a laugh. Robby empties glass and clears his throat. He turns his body to face Dennis, resting his elbow on the back of the couch. 

“You think you’ve found balance yet?”

“I’m trying. With the Pitt and the street team, and A — Mrs. Miller’s farm, I’m… I don’t know.” He looks down at his glass, considering. Despite the heavy conversation, he feels light, almost bubbly. “I feel like I need to get drunk more often.”

Robby laughs again. “Slippery slope.”

Dennis looks back at him, grinning. “No, I mean like… I think I just need to shoot the shit with friends more. I do it with Santos, but probably not often enough. And this is… nice. I feel like maybe we should treat it like something we need to do.”

Robby breaks eye contact and tilts his head, nodding. He’s silent for a bit, and Dennis clears his own glass, fixating a little too hard on implying that Robby’s a ‘friend.’ It’s wrong for a number of conflicting reasons he’s afraid of unpacking. A slight wave of embarrassment comes over him.

They both glance at the whiskey left on top of the bar, and Robby raises an eyebrow at him. He nods. 

“Water first, Whitaker.” 

. . .

By the second pour, after downing a pint of ice water, Dennis is doing less talking. Robby starts telling him about Canada, and the Rockies, and how gorgeous everything is from the end of summer to early fall. It’s been nearly ten years since he last went.  

Dennis’ mind is buzzing. He’s too distracted by the outline of Robby’s cock to listen closely. He can see his bulge expand and contract when he shifts in his seat. Dennis is too tipsy not to notice, and it's taking everything left in him not to stare outright. His mouth still waters every time his eye catches it.  

Dr. Robby doesn’t seem to notice at all.  

At one point, they realize they’re hungry. It’s nearly midnight, but they’re feeling buzzed and wired and neither of them work tomorrow. Robby orders a pizza on the phone like it’s still the 90s, and Whitaker slinks to the bathroom.  

He realized he’s almost half hard when he pees, desperately willing himself to calm down. Robby’s been friendly and nothing but professional this entire time. He’s even forgoing his usual handsiness – Dennis’ shoulders haven’t been pat once since he got here. Whatever sexual tension is happening is firmly one sided, he reasons. He’s drunk, and horny, and touch starved and tired. 

But a different, slightly evil voice at the back of his head points out that Robby basically told him he’s had gay sex before. Or gay something. He wants to know everything, but he can’t ask. That would be crazy.  

He looks in the mirror after washing his hands. “You’re thinking of doing something,” he mumbles. “Don’t do it.”  

Here’s the counterpoint, though – Robby’s about to go on sabbatical. They’re several beers and a couple whiskeys in, after one of the longest and most intense shifts since that first day. Their age gap is as old as Dennis himself. If anyone can afford to risk humiliation right now, it’s him. He wouldn’t need to look at Robby for months after today. He’d be classified as a young, drunk, horny idiot who made a mistake late at night. And he’s not sure if it’s the booze, but he looks good in the mirror in a way that’s making him feel unreasonably confident. His hair looks as good as it gets, and the eye bags are adding to his charm. He stands up straighter, admiring the way his shirt falls on his shoulders. It’s insane that he’s even thinking about this.  

“You good?” Robby asks when he comes back to the couch. He realizes he was probably gone for a little too long.  

“Yeah,” he answers, his pulse ringing in his ears. He sits next to Dr. Robby, closer than before, and grabs his whiskey for a sip. It fills his mouth and nose with caramel and burns on the way down.  

“You’re looking a little off,” Robby points out. “Something on your mind? Need to crash?” 

“No, no, it’s just –”  

When he opens his eyes and looks at him, Robby’s eyes looking right at him, full of concern. He’s probably wondering if it’s a work trauma thing. His brow twitches, and Dennis can’t help but flicker his gaze to Robby’s mouth, and back up again. His mentor, once again, looks pretty clueless.  

Dennis holds his gaze and wets his lips. I could get fired, or something, he thinks, before sliding a hand onto Robby’s thigh.  

Robby looks down at it, clearly confused. He’s already crossed the line, so he might as well charge right past it.  

“You always smell so good and it drives me crazy.” 

Robby’s looking at him again, his eyes wide but overall unreadable. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, and just when Dennis starts to pull his hand away in a wave of embarrassment, Robby puts his own, larger, older hand over it and keeps it there, the heat of it burning into his fingers. He doesn’t do anything else.  

So Dennis leans up and kisses him.  

To his complete shock, Robby opens his mouth against him before kissing him back. So he keeps going, and keeps going, and his tongue grazes Robby’s lip and he opens his mouth into it, and that voice in Dennis’ head is like it’s happening, holy shit it’s happening, I’m making out with Dr. Robby on his couch. He literally didn’t think it would work. He was willing to humiliate himself for a one percent chance of success.  

The hand leaves him at one point and tangles into his hair. Robby digs his fingers into his scalp a bit, and Dennis inadvertently moans into his mouth. Their breath mingles and tastes like booze, and Dennis is suddenly extremely aware of how much smaller he is, how Robby’s body eclipse’s his. It sends a shock down his spine.  

He’s fully hard now, and he wants friction. But he doesn’t know how far to take it. Soon enough, he’s leaning back into the corner of the sectional and Robby is squishing him, slotting a leg between his. His hands are in Robby’s hair, open mouth kisses full of tongue exchanged between them, and he’s getting a little braver. Dennis’ groans into his mouth and frantically reaches his hands down to Robby’s waist, holding him and thumbing under his shirt.  

It feels illegal, and insanely hot. If he were more sober, he’d be spiralling about ethics violations right now, but for some reason his usual anxious voice is silent. Instead, he just wants more. More until they’re naked, more until Robby has seen him come all over himself. He feels hungry and possessed by something he never gets to indulge in.

He palms Robby through his sweats, and is pleased to feel him hard and twitching. But a second after he moves his hand, Robby gently wraps his fingers around Dennis’ wrist and pulls away to look at him, searching. Dennis feels crazy and wills himself not to chase after him, worried he crossed a line he didn’t know about.  

“You sure about this?” Robby asks, breathless.  

“A thousand percent. I want it, I started it.” 

Robby’s mouth twitches. “I really wasn’t expecting this.” 

“Me neither. But I’ve thought about it a long time.” 

Robby looks surprised. After a beat, he huffs out a laugh.  

“I thought it was just me.”

“... What?” 

Robby’s kissing him again. His mouth moves along his jaw and then his neck, biting and sucking. Dennis moans and cants his hips forward, feeling his cock rub involuntarily against his jeans and Robby’s thigh. 

“I mean look at you,” he whispers in Dennis’ ear. “You look so good like this.” 

There’s a tongue in his ear, licking all over and inside. He’s never had anyone do that before. Dennis finally, finally lets himself fully relax into it and palms Robby’s cock again, breathing out a sharp shit as he realizes how thick and long it is.  

“Oh my god,” he groans. His own cock is fully hard and leaking so much his jeans feel wet. He feels like he’s too big for his skin, like he’ll explode. He pushes Robby up on instinct until he’s sitting against the couch.  

“Switch places with me.” 

Robby complies, settling into the corner and watching, his mouth slightly open as Dennis parts his legs and sits between them, his eyes quickly switching between Robby’s face and cock. There’s a wet spot in his sweats at his tip, the grey fabric darkening, and Dennis is enthralled. He leans down and grabs Robby’s waistband, looking at him once to check, and then pulls it down when he gets a nod.  

His underwear is pulled tight over his hard cock. He hears Robby sigh, breathless and crackled when he palms at it, feeling its warmth and girth. He wants to memorize every sound he can coax out of him. He's never heard a voice this deep, this weathered, moaning at his touch before. It's enough to make him lightheaded.  

He's never been with someone older. He's barely been with anyone, aside from his prom date, the one girlfriend he’s ever had, and two Grindr hookups. It’s not nothing, he’ll admit. But he still doesn’t understand the whole dance around dating and sex. But something about being able to bed Dr. Robby of all people is making him feel high on his own supply. Like he’s able to do things he couldn’t dream of. Like something about tonight is going to change him on a molecular level, whether he wants it to or not. 

After tonight, he’ll be someone who slept with his superior. Someone who slept with a man older than his own father. 

Oh my god, Robby’s older than his dad. 

“Hey, you okay, Whitaker?” Robby asks. He lifts a hand to cup Dennis’ cheek in a move that almost feels too tender. His thumb grazes his cheek once, twice. 

“I’m good,” Dennis replies. It’s an understatement. He breathes a laugh after a beat. “You uh, don’t need to call me that.”

“What do you want me to call you?”

His mind is buzzing. “Dennis. Or… something else.”

He looks into Robby’s eyes, pleading. He has a couple ideas, but he doesn’t want to say them himself. It’s almost too embarrassing. 

“What do you want?” He asks Robby, seeing if he can flip things around a bit. Something about hearing his voice is grounding. Robby pulls Dennis’ face towards his and kisses him, languid and slow and full of tongue. His beard scratches Dennis’ chin, and his mouth is warm. Robby grazes his mouth over to his ear. 

“You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“Holy shit—”

His mouth is between Robby’s legs in an instant, nosing along his length and inhaling his scent. It’s a saturated, intense dose of how he usually smells after a long day, and Dennis can’t drink enough of it. He sucks the tip through the fabric, shivering at the faint wetness leaking from Robby’s cock. He’s teasing himself, mostly. He wants to savor every second.

After a couple more minutes, he caves. He pulls Robby’s underwear off and pushes his shirt up his torso. Robby takes the opportunity to lift his shirt over his head and lie back down, fully naked, sighing. Dennis takes him in, drunkenly looking him up and down and marveling at all the hair, the veins in his arms, the muscle mass, the rough skin, the hard, leaking cock resting against him and occasionally twitching. Robby reaches over and slips Dennis’ shirt off, too. His jeans are still on, still confining his cock almost painfully, but he likes it.

He gets on his knees on the ground and grabs Robby’s cock in one hand. Robby shifts to face him on the couch, legs sprawled wide apart, both hands kneading his neck and shoulders as slow as possible. It feels fantastic, and Dennis lets out a low moan before licking Robby’s cock from base to tip, coaxing a muffled gasp from him. 

“That’s a good boy,” Robby mumbles. 

“Fuck,” Dennis breathes, closing his eyes and smiling. He jacks Robby off slowly before leaning forward and taking him in his mouth. 

It’s heavy on his tongue. He tastes fantastic. Dennis sucks him off slowly, not wanting to make him come like this – he wants to save that for later. He kisses the underside of his head, swirls his tongue everywhere, even tries to choke on it a couple times before settling into a regular, rhythmic pace. The air is filled with gasps, groans, the occasional “Fuck, baby,” and “good boy,” and it’s all so fucking insane and Dennis is losing his mind entirely. He doesn’t know how he survived without this for so long. 

Eventually, his jaw is feeling a little sore. He pulls off and gasps for air, his lips feeling a little swollen and very wet with spit. He looks up and Robby’s staring daggers at him, his pupils wider than he’s ever seen them. Before he can process it, Robby’s grabbing him by the shoulders and tossing him back on the couch, into the other corner of the sectional, and ripping his pants and boxers off. 

Dennis’ neglected cock springs free and hits him below the stomach. His body goes limp as Robby presses one wrist into the seat of the couch, and grabs his length in the other hand. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” Robby groans. He looks like he’s about to eat him. “Look at you. Who knew you had this in you?”

Dennis knew it was in him. He knows what goes on in his own head. 

“I’m gonna take care of you, okay? I’ll be back.”

Robby gets up and leaves the room. It’s cold all of a sudden, and Dennis takes a moment to remind himself to breathe slowly, in and out. The couch is unfairly comfortable under him, and he lets himself sink into it, the alcohol still buzzing in his head and through his veins. His skin feels like a live wire, extra sensitive to everything that touches it. And his cock is harder than ever. It’s already wet, and it’s barely been touched. 

Robby comes back and throws two gold condoms on the coffee table before pumping some lube into his hand and spreading it. He gets on the couch between Dennis’ legs and asks where he wants to be touched. 

“Everything,” Dennis breathes. “My uh… cock and ass. I want all of it.”

Robby starts with a hand on his cock. Dennis arches his back on impulse. 

“Ah, AH—”

His cock gets stroked, covered in lube, smooth and skillfully like this is the thousandth time Robby’s done this. It’s almost medically precise. He lowers his head and licks Dennis’ hole, kisses it, and licks it again in long, rhythmic motions. The combined pleasure from the handjob and rimming sends him to another planet, and Dennis is grateful he’s drunk. Otherwise, he wouldn’t last a second. 

When a finger enters him, he stifles a scream with his hand. His eyes roll back in his head when Robby puts another one in, hooking them just enough to rub against his prostate. It barely feels real. He’s going to go into work in two days as someone who’s seen Dr. Robby’s cock, someone who had Dr. Robby’s mouth on his asshole. 

“That’s it, baby. That feel good?”

“Mhmph—“

“Lemme hear you –”

When Dennis lowers his hand, he moans so loud he can’t recognize himself. He’s never made sounds like this before. He’s gasping, groaning, and he’s loud. Robby’s fucking him with his fingers in earnest now, hard enough that it’s making noise. He takes Dennis’ cock in his mouth and starts sucking him off with lots of tongue, and Dennis is swearing and writing and gasping for breath. It takes all the effort in the world, but he somehow manages to get out a barely coherent fuck me. 

The fingers disappear, and Dennis almost cries at the emptiness in their wake. But Robby looks so big looming over him. They stare at each other with heavily lidded eyes, and for a moment all Robby does is start jacking himself off over Dennis, letting his eyes wander all over him. He places a hand on his torso, drags it down his stomach, thumbs his nipple. He drags his hand around Dennis’ balls and down to his taint, circling his hole with one finger almost tauntingly. 

“What can I call you?” he manages, staring at Robby right in the eye. His voice sounds sore, scratched. Robby just keeps staring at him. He shakes his head, like he’s almost afraid of answering. “Come on. It’s… it can be a little fucked up. I… I like fucked up.”

Robby huffs out a short laugh. “You’re playing with fire, kid.”

The kid pisses him off a bit. All of it is starting to feel like a challenge. Robby’s been keeping his cards close all night. It’s been Dennis doing most of the talking, the answering. He’s learned almost nothing about Robby. But he’s the one who made this happen. He was the one delusional enough to try and hook up with his attending, and it worked. And now, he wants to crack Robby open. He wants to know exactly what kind of shit he’s harbouring in his head. 

“How long have you wanted to fuck me?”

Robby stops jacking himself off and steadies his hand on Dennis’ thigh. He chews his bottom lip, stalling. 

“You know you’re older than my dad,” he adds, feeling something sinister grow inside him. “You probably have friends with kids my age.”

“What are you doing —”

Dennis pushes himself up on his elbows, fixing his eyes on Robby’s. “And you’ve been perving on me at work? How many interns have you thought about fucking?”

Robby’s brow twitches. “Careful.”

“We’re shitting over like, a ton of rules right now. The line is long gone. If anyone knows about this, we’re fucked. So I want to make the most of it.”

He lies back down and glances at Robby’s cock. It’s still hard, weighed down by its own mass. Robby’s face is angrier now. There’s a vein visible in his temple under reddened skin. 

Dennis licks his lips. “You’re a sick fuck.”

“Stop.”

“Make me, Daddy.”

Robby clamps a hand over his mouth and brings their faces together, huffing out a breath as he lines his cock up with Dennis’ hole and pushes it in raw. It stretches him so wide he can’t help but let out a muffled wail, his eyes fully rolling back in his head. 

“Shut the fuck up. Hah—”

Dennis tries talking, but no coherent words come out. He stares Robby in the eyes, only a couple inches away from his own, and takes in how unhinged and insane he looks. It’s fantastic. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of.

“You’re — gonna shut — the fuck up,” Robby grits out between thrusts, “And let daddy fuck you.”

Dennis writhes free of Robby’s hand, holding his gaze. He moans, as one thrust hits especially deep inside him. “Not unless you choke me, perv—”

There’s a hand around his neck in an instant, restricting his breath. His fingers are digging in painfully, and Dennis feels lightheaded. It’s all so intense, and his mind is swimming so hard, that he can’t help but huff out a laugh and smile up at Robby like a delirious idiot. For a split second, Robby slows down and smiles back at him with admiration Dennis can’t even begin to process, before going back to fucking him with abandon, the sound of it filling the room. 

Dennis gasps when his neck is released. He coughs a couple times before nodding, signaling he’s okay. He wraps his legs around Robby and they keep at it like animals. It feels like his insides are being turned out. After God knows how long, Robby leans back on his knees and pulls Dennis forward, wraps his hand around his cock and starts jacking him off. He’s sweating, his chest flushed and shining. 

“Fuck, Daddy—” Dennis moans. “Yes, HAH—”

He comes all over himself and Robby’s hand. His orgasm takes him over in waves, amplified by Robby’s cock still thrusting in and out of his ass. It’s the strongest thing he’s ever experienced — he feels it throughout his entire body, leaving him lightheaded and tingling. It takes Robby only about a minute longer before he’s panting, groaning and jerking his body, coming with Dennis gripped around his cock. He falls forward, tangling their legs together, wet and clammy bodies sliding against one another. Robby presses his face against Dennis’ neck as he catches his breath and settles one hand in his hair. 

They stay like that, breaths slowing down, and the post orgasm fog starts giving way to clarity. He feels Dr. Robby’s cock slide out of his ass and is suddenly a tad nauseous, not knowing what comes next. But Robby kisses his neck, and then looms over him and kisses his mouth. He looks him in the eye and smiles, wider than Dennis has ever seen. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks. 

He’s not used to being asked that after sex. Robby runs a hand through his hair and keeps staring down at him. 

“Good,” he manages. His eyes feel heavy, but there’s no way he’s falling asleep. “Kinda hungry?”

Robby laughs. 

“I’ll check on the pizza.”

. . .

They eat it on the couch. Robby wraps a knit blanket over Dennis’ shoulders and tells him to say the word if he’s too cold. They don’t have much juice left for talking, so Robby pulls up the projector and puts on the first episode of The Sopranos, for some reason. He tells Dennis it’s a classic. 

Eventually, Dennis closes his eyes. Later, he half-consciously feels two arms pick him up and walk him to another room, setting him down on a plush mattress. He moves a little, savouring the feeling of expensive sheets, and a hand runs through his hair. He feels a light peck on his forehead. 

At one point in the night, he half wakes up to Robby spooning him. He wiggles his ass a bit, coaxing his cock until it's hard again. Robby runs a hand down his arm, squeezes his shoulder and kisses the back of his neck. He thrusts against Dennis’ ass, places his cock between his legs, and turns his face over so they can stick their tongues down each others’ throats. 

This time, Robby fucks him gentler. It’s slower, lazier and a lot less feral. Robby comes first this time, sighing ragged breaths into Dennis’ shoulder, and then jacks Dennis off still inside him. They fall back asleep in the dirty sheets. 

. . .

“I gotta get going soon,” Robby tells him the next morning as he wakes up. He’s already fully dressed, sitting on the bed next to him. Dennis whines and grabs at his shirt, pulling him in. 

“I got coffee for us, and bagels. You can eat them wherever you want.” He chuckles and gives Dennis a quick kiss before getting up. “Come on.”

They have bagels and coffee in bed. It takes Dennis a good ten minutes to boot up and become capable of words. 

He finishes the last of his bagel and grabs his coffee before looking at Robby and worrying his lip. 

“We gonna do this again?” he asks, feeling a knot in his stomach. 

Robby smiles at him and looks down at his coffee. After a moment, he shakes his head. 

“I don’t think we should. But it’s not because I don’t want to.”

Dennis feels his lip quiver. He takes a deep breath in, and out. “Okay.”

“It could ruin our lives,” Robby adds, giving him a pointed look. “You were my intern until yesterday.”

“And you don’t want to get fired?”

“I don’t want to get you fired.” Robby sighs. “It’d be dangerous for both of us, but I’ve had a long career. You’re just starting out, and you’re way too good to risk it for anything—”

“But —” 

“I’m not finished. I couldn’t live with myself if I ruined your life.”

Dennis nods, still distraught. Flashes of moments from last night echo in his head involuntarily. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to go back to normal life after calling Dr. Robby daddy in bed.

“I’m glad it happened,” Robby adds. “You're amazing.” He puts an arm around him and kisses his temple. Dennis leans into him gripping his coffee cup. He closes his eyes and sighs, savouring the heat of his body before it’s gone. 

“We keep this going any longer and ending it would be a hundred times harder. Trust me.”

And Dennis does trust him. He knows he’s right. 

. . .

They cuddle a while longer and finish their coffees. It’s quiet in that special way where nothing needs to be said. Robby says he’ll wash the sheets and make the bed, that Dennis doesn’t need to worry about it. 

They briefly talk about the whole secrecy thing. Dennis promises he won’t tell a soul, but mentions there’s a good chance Trinity will know from one look at him. “She won’t say anything if I don’t want her to,” he insists. Robby nods along, knowing he doesn’t have much of a say. 

“I had a wonderful time,” he says at the door, holding Dennis’ face in his hands. They kiss for a minute or two before breaking apart. 

“I… had a great time too,” Dennis says. “Come home in one piece.”

“I want to. I’ll do my best.” 

. . .

“What the fuck happened?” Trinity practically yells once he gets home. He decided to hoof it to give his brain time to process everything, but instead he just replayed most of the sex over and over. Forty-five minutes of walking later and he’s standing in their small, barely furnished living room, all cluttered and mildly dingy. It’s relieving, like Robby’s place was too much for him. 

It only takes a few seconds before he can tell she knows. 

“Is that a fucking hickey?!”

“Shhhh—” 

He grabs her and pulls her down onto the couch, cupping a hand over her mouth. 

“Please don’t freak out, I can’t talk about it if you’re yelling.”

She nods. He pulls his hands off her. 

“And before you ask, it was me. I started it. He wasn’t — it was my idea.”

She just stares at him, wide eyed. He gives her a moment to process and waits, watching a number of emotions wash over her face. 

“Fucking text me next time, I was worried you died!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now tell me everything! Go!”

He does. He doesn’t get into minute detail about the sex, or the conversations, but he gives her the general gist of it. She looks conflicted the entire time. 

“He didn’t start it, it was all me,” Dennis finishes. Trinity shakes her head. 

“I don’t really believe that.”

“You don’t?”

“He brought you over and you got drunk,” she points out. “He thought you were hot before all this? I mean —”

“I know it… looks bad.”

“It doesn’t look great.” 

“But it’s over, now. It was a thing that happened and it’s done. Maybe it was kinda dumb for us to get drunk together but it’s over. And now he’s gone on his trip.”

His voice cracks when he says it. He can’t hide his disappointment. Trinity sighs. 

“Oh, Huckleberry—”

She pulls him into a hug. He wraps his arms around her and leans into it, his eyes stinging. He must really look like shit. She only does this when he’s had a patient die. 

“You are both so fucking dumb,” she adds. He can’t help but agree. 

. . .

“[5:48 PM]

>Made it to Cleveland. See you on the other side. Hold down the fort for me meantime”

Dennis’ heart jumps when he sees Robby’s name on his screen, but it’s a group text to the whole team. He hears Trinity’s phone buzz in the other room. A tiny part of him is disappointed.

He’s replayed the entire night and morning in his head more times than he can count, now. His ass is sore, there’s a vaguely hand-shaped bruise and a hickey on his neck, and his entire body feels like dead weight. He can’t get Robby’s voice out of his head. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Whitaker.”

“I thought it was just me.”

“You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“Let daddy fuck you.”

“You were amazing.”

“It could ruin our lives.”

Maybe Dennis wants it to ruin his life. 

He stares at his phone. They were both there. Whatever happened between them was something else. It was raw, it was real, and it was almost divine. 

It was living — real living. Something they could stand to learn a thing or two about. 

He thinks about Robby on his motorcycle, driving across the continent for the next three months. He thinks about how alone he’ll be, how the last thing he did back home was give Dennis his condo, fuck him twice, bring him breakfast in bed, and wash their come-covered sheets. How eventually, they’re going to have to see one another again at work — day in and day out. 

And what then? What the fuck do they do then?

He smiles to himself, proud, satisfied, and maybe a little bit delusional. He doesn’t care if he is, though. Being insane looks good on him. 

Robby may think it’s over, but Dennis knows it’s not. It’s only just getting started.