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Dr. Michael Robinavitch sips at his tepid coffee. He responds to a few emails that have accumulated in his inbox. He’s trying to lay low, trying to snatch five minutes of peace before somebody inevitably notices him and drags him into another case. If he listens in to the conversations going on around him, that’s only because he’s doing his job which—after recent events—he’s decided now includes keeping tabs on his residents’ personal lives.
Robby is not a gossip. That would be beneath his position as attending. He’s nosy, sure, but only because he has to be. It’s his responsibility to know everything that’s going on in his ER. He keeps abreast of the status of each patient, makes sure they get the care they need in a timely manner, and just recently, he’s started checking to make sure none of them are getting prescribed drugs they don’t actually need.
Deep breath in. Deep breath ou—
Robby doesn’t know why he bothers. It never works.
He’s already failed once with Langdon. He’s not going to make that mistake again. Not when he’s just been given a new favorite he can project all his hopes and fears onto.
Dennis Whitaker went from being his gawky MS4 student into one of the best doctors on the whole team. Every time he sees him, Robby can’t help but feel some twinge of fatherly pride.
Robby follows his lithe form moving with purpose through the hall, heart-shaped face haloed in curls, nose buried in his charts. As far as fresh starts go, he couldn’t have picked one fresher. Young and innocent, a wide-eyed farm boy who was entirely too good for him.
He sets down his coffee, gets up from his chair, steps out of central hub and onto the crowded walkway.
“Oh!” Whitaker nearly drops the tablet he’s holding. “Sorry, Doctor Robby, didn’t see you there.”
“Woah there,” Robby says chuckling. He places his hands over the younger man’s shoulders to steady him. “Slow down, kid. Gotta watch where you’re going.”
Whitaker looks up at him, the gap in his teeth poking out between pink lips. He swallows, nods.
“You mind if I take a look?” Robby gestures at the tablet, already pulling on his reading glasses.
“N-no, not at all.” Whitaker hands it to him, rattling off the patient’s vitals and medical history. Robby stays silent for a beat too long, lips pulling down into a slight frown. “Is something wrong, Doctor Robby?”
“You ordered a secondary EKG?”
He can feel Whitaker stretched taut beside him, slender fingers fidgeting at his stethoscope. The younger man leans in closer trying to look at the screen. “Yeah, should I not have? With the patient having a pre-existing heart condition, I thought it would be better to do it just in case...”
“Good call, doctor.” He smiles, handing back the tablet. Robby can barely suppress the overwhelming urge to pat his intern on the head. Whitaker sags in relief, returning Robby's smile brightly before walking away to see his next patient.
Robby is pulled out of his own thoughts at a prickling sensation on the back of his head. He turns around to see Dana giving him the side eye, brows raised.
“What?” He holds up his hands.
“Real subtle, boss.” Dana shakes her head at him, already walking off to attend to the fresh new horror being dropped off at the ambulance bay. “People are gonna start talking.”
Robby doesn't deign to respond. If his residents want to gossip, let them. God knows they need something to take their mind off all the morbid depressing shit they have to deal with every day. Most rumors are harmless. Most of it isn’t even true.
Cum slut. Cock hungry whore. Bitch in heat.
A gurney wheels in from the ambulance bay with Mohan and Whitaker already taking charge. Robby clears the way for them into an open trauma bay before falling back to observe.
Robby looks at Whitaker as he works. His resident’s soft-cheeked face stares back at him, wide blue eyes calm and determined.
There's no way the rumors are true.
***
“Fuck!”
Robby looks up. Whitaker is leaned against the brick wall of the ambulance bay, thumb caught between his teeth. He's not surprised to see the kid still here three hours past the end of his shift. He's more surprised at hearing the curse coming out of his mouth.
“Whitaker, you still here?” He asks, walking over with his backpack slung over an arm.
“Hey, Doctor Robby.” Whitaker looks down forlornly at his phone. The screen is cracked. “I was waiting for my ride, but she cancelled last minute.”
“Santos left an hour ago, kid.”
“No, not Trin. I was talking about Amy. The farmer's widow, you remember? Some family stuff came up so she couldn't make it.”
“That’s life, kid.” Robby exhales. “You remember when we talked about boundaries?”
Whitaker crosses his arms, holding on to his elbows. “I know.”
Whitaker’s such an angel, Robby thinks with some fondness. That’s why he’s in emergency medicine. He can’t help wanting to help other people… But, at the end of the day, who’s going to take care of him?
“You hungry?”
“What?”
“Let’s grab dinner, my treat.” Robby shuffles on his feet, nodding toward his truck in the parking lot. “I'll drive you home after.”
“Uh… sure.”
Robby drives them to a restaurant downtown that's open till late. It's a nice place, upscale but not too fancy. Both of them have stripped to just their undershirts; Robby in a dark green henley and Whitaker in a faded white t-shirt. Under the dim yellow lighting, it’s not obvious they’ve just come from a grueling 15 hour shift.
The place is pretty empty considering it's a Tuesday. A hostess leads them to a two-seater booth near the back. The only other occupied table in their section is a group of girlfriends chattering happily, pitchers of margarita sitting empty on the table.
“So, how are you coping with first year residency?”
“It’s been good. Challenging, but good.” Whitaker gives him a genuine smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I really love working at PTMC.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I'm glad you matched with us, kid." Robby huffs, momentarily distracted at the sight. "I met up with, uh, Doctor Acharya at the conference last weekend. He was hoping you'd go to Presby.”
In fact, Doctor Acharya had plenty to say about one Dennis Whitaker, MS4. Robby forgets how the topic had come up. Something about how glad he was that his star student matched into PTMC. Imagine Robby's surprise when the first words out of Doctor Acharya's mouth were: “Dennis Whitaker? Pretty boy with the baby blues? You lucky dog. Did you fuck him yet?”
Robby had heard the whole story after that.
“Yeah, he was head of neuro at Presby during my rotation there.” Whitaker shrugs, a small smile still playing on his lips. "Neuro wasn't really my thing though."
Robby chuckles, leaning in closer to his intern. “Don’t tell him I said this but he's kind of a shit doctor.”
Whitaker snorts before erupting into laughter, a bright perfect sound. Robby can feel his warm breath on his cheek. “What’s so funny?”
“Everyone’s kind of a shit doctor compared to you, Doctor Robby.”
There it is again. The cursing coming out of that innocent mouth. Their knees bump against each other under the table. It takes a moment for Robby's brain to even register the compliment.
The awkward silence is interrupted by the arrival of their order. Whitaker immediately digs into his spaghetti and meatballs, moaning in pleasure as he chews his first bite. Robby feels a tug on his arm. The younger man is holding up a forkful of pasta, motioning while his mouth is still full. Robby takes in the wide-eyed expectation on the younger man's face before he relents. He leans forward, scraping his teeth over the fork. If Whitaker thinks feeding his boss pasta at a dimly lit restaurant late at night is at all inappropriate, he doesn’t make it known.
The sheer naivety of the gesture pulls at some protective instinct inside Robby. In such a short time, he’s come to care for Whitaker almost like he would his own son. He’s going to be a great doctor. Robby’s not going to let some unfounded gossip about his protégé screwing the whole neuro department ruin his career before it even starts.
“Listen, kid. I'm saying this for your own good. There's a rumor that you were sleeping around during your rotation at Presby…”
“Oh.” Whitaker pauses mid-shovel. Eyebrows lowering over big droopy eyes.
“Not that I believe any of it,” Robby is quick to reassure. “If you want me to, I can put in a word, set the record straight.”
“What did they say?” Dennis still isn't meeting his eyes.
“They said that you were sleeping with your attending,” Robby admits, “...among other things.”
Whitaker's long lashes flutter against a smooth cheek. “Am I in trouble?”
“No! Of course not,” Robby splutters. “I told 'em no way that's true. One, Doctor Acharya is way too old for you and, two, he's got a wife and kids.”
“They were in India at the time.” Whitaker's mouth pulls down into a frown. “Visiting family.”
Robby must have misheard. His jaw clicks with the effort of closing.
“…Excuse me?”
“I thought you said you didn't believe the rumors.” Whitaker wipes daintily at his mouth.
“I, uh, don’t?” Robby stares at his intern. Whitaker looks so soft in this light. His mouth is set in a tight line but the embarrassed pink flush across his nose gives him away. Robby’s hand is halfway across the table before he falters. "If you say it's not true..."
“Is that why you asked me to dinner, Doctor Robby?” Dennis stares at his hand where it lays useless between them. “Because you wanted to sleep with me?”
Robby flaps his lips soundlessly. “I…”
“You didn't have to do all this, you know.” Dennis sighs, waving his hand at their surroundings. “I would have if you asked.”
The two men sit in silence, staring at each other for a small eternity. Robby is the first to break.
“Finish your food, Whitaker. I'm taking you home.”
The younger man scoffs. “Mine or yours?”
“Mine,” he says. “Now you keep quiet. We’re not doing this here.”
Dennis quirks his lips, shrugging, as he stabs at his half-full plate.
***
The lock to his townhouse clicks behind him with some finality. Robby turns to see Dennis toeing off his shoes in the hall. He’s already half hard at the sight of the younger man’s socked feet on his hardwood floors.
“You have a nice place, Doctor Robby.”
Robby doesn't know what to say to that. By this point in his hookups, he would already have them pressed against the wall. They would be scrambling to the couch, shedding layers as they went.
He feels unusually self-conscious right now. He looks pretty good for his age but that's with the clothes on. Naked he’s got an overhanging gut and soft pecs and wrinkly balls. That's why he has an unspoken rule to himself not to date below 40, 35 max. There's a comfortable understanding between two old(er) people fucking. With Dennis, he runs the risk of disappointing him.
“So, how do you want me?” Whitaker is looking at him expectantly. One hand comes up to grip his elbow. He does that a lot, Robby’s noticed, when he’s nervous.
This is the part where he should stop this. He should apologize, tell the kid to go home and forget this whole night ever happened—but he doesn’t want to. He wants to see if Dennis’ saliva tastes as sweet as it does in his imagination.
“Bedroom’s upstairs,” he says.
He takes a step forward and Dennis is in his arms. Dennis’ lips are on his lips, gasping out his name. His pink mouth is just as warm and wet as he imagined. Robby could just slurp him up.
They stumble up the stairs in a flurry of hands and hot breath. He herds the younger man into his bedroom, cringing internally at his unmade bed and overflowing hamper. But Dennis doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he’s clutching at him so desperately is any indication.
Soon enough he has Dennis stripped to just his underwear, peaked nipples on display as he’s propped up on his elbows. Robby doesn't know what he was expecting—lacy briefs with heart-shaped cutouts maybe—but Dennis is wearing blue plaid boxer shorts. They’re a little ratty. It’s so unsexy and boyish—
“I’m gonna eat your pussy.”
“Huh—wha?” Dennis' breath hitches as Robby runs his hands up his legs. He dips underneath the fabric, letting his fingers graze the hairy mound of his pubis. He moans when his fingers come away damp.
“I said,” Robby says, lowering himself to kneel at the end of the bed. “Will you let Doctor Robby eat your pussy, baby?”
…Baby? Really? When was the last time Robby called anyone baby? But at the petname, it’s like Dennis melts. His thighs fall open and his head lolls off to the side, exposing the long column of his throat.
“Y-yeah,” Dennis whispers. “Robby, please.”
“Ah ah," he tuts, "That’s not what you call me.” He looks up to read his intern’s reaction. Dennis’ mouth falls open, a flicker of sober comprehension flitting between his blue eyes before he flushes a deeper shade of red.
“Please, Doctor… Robby.”
“Very good.” He presses a kiss to Dennis’ ankle just above his socks. Robby makes quick work of the boxers, the musky smell of Dennis’ cunt filling his lungs. He pets at the fat lips covered in blond curls before pinching at Dennis’ swollen cock to make him squirm. “I know how much you like fucking your attendings, don’t you?”
Dennis gasps, but whatever denial he’s about to retort with is lost in a moan. Robby has two fingers rubbing at the seam of his cunt. Dennis is so sensitive, twitching at every touch. He lays his fingers on either side, pulling apart his folds to reveal the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen. Glistening pink and throbbing with a tight like fuck hole winking at him. It looks absolutely untouched. If the rumors were true, those Presby guys must not have been fucking him right. Robby is going to make sure he ruins this pussy. It’ll never be as tight and sweet and wet for anyone else after he’s done.
Robby stiffens his tongue to a point, letting it run along the entrance, lapping up the dew gathered there. Dennis squirms on his tongue, muffling his moans into the sheets. Robby loses himself at the clean-salty-ripe flavor. Even his piss must taste good.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” Robby groans. “Soaked right through me. I’m gonna smell you on my beard all day tomorrow. Is that what you wanted, baby? Get me hard in the middle of the shift so you can take care of it?”
He slips a finger into Dennis cunt as he talks filth. It’s unbelievably tight, tugging him deeper into the velvety heat.
Robby bends to suck on Dennis’ cock. His neck is starting to ache and he’s just barely managed to slip in the second finger. He frowns. “Denny baby, I need you to loosen up for me.”
“I don’t know how,” Dennis whines. “I can take another—O-or just your cock, please, Doctor Robby. I… I like it when it hurts…”
Robby groans, cock pulsing heavy with need inside his cargos. Dennis doesn’t know what he’s offering. “I could stretch you open on four fingers and it would still hurt.” He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna rip you open.”
Dennis bears down as Robby pushes in a third. He speeds up, pumping in and out in rough thrusts. Breathy moans and the slapping of knuckles against Dennis’ wet cunt fill the quiet of his bedroom. He holds Dennis down as he squirts all over his wrist, letting the younger man ride his fingers before pulling out.
He wipes his hand on the bed, climbing to his feet with a crick in his knees. He’s still fully dressed, sweat staining under the arms of his henley. Meanwhile Dennis is stretched out stark naked on his week-old sheets, pale skin breaking out in goosebumps.
“Not fair, wanna see you.” The younger man is looking up at him from under droopy eyelids.
Robby tries not to think about what he looks like as he shucks off his clothing. He moves quickly. No point embarrassing himself by trying to make it sexy.
Once upon a time, he used to make more of an effort to groom himself. He gave that up five years ago when hair started sprouting on his back. Every time he tried to reach around with his razor, it came out so patchy, and he absolutely draws the line at getting waxed at a salon. He’d thought nothing could surprise him about his body with him being a doctor and all. It’s like he just woke up one day in the body of an old man. What prime his life has had is well past. But the way Dennis is looking at him now makes him feel twenty years younger. He clears his throat, crawling over Dennis before the younger man can take a closer look and change his mind.
“Ugh, you are so hot.” Dennis slides his hands down his chest, grabbing at the soft hairy flesh in a way that makes Robby wince. “Gonna ruin me for anyone else.”
“Yeah?” Robby holds himself above the younger man. His cock is achingly hard and leaking between them. It’s a nice cock, Robby can admit, thick and veiny and cut. He’s never had problems getting it up, and Dennis makes it so easy looking the way he does on the navy sheets. “Maybe we should take it slow…”
“What? No!” Dennis yells.
“Uh…” Robby pauses, unsure. “No?”
In a deft move, Dennis flips him over onto his back, punching the air out of him. The younger man scrambles to brace himself on Robby’s lap. He’s grabbing at his stiff cock, lifting his hips to rub the head against his entrance.
Then Dennis sinks down onto his length, head thrown back as he takes it all in. He feels so soft and wet and goddamn tight. The insistent pressure of his walls rearranging themselves to let him inside. Robby groans at the pleasure, hands flat on the bed in his effort not to buck up into the squeeze.
“Want you just like this, Doctor Robby” Dennis looks back at him, he has his lip caught between his teeth. The younger man is blinking away tears gathered on his lashes. Robby’s chest clenches in sympathy before Dennis starts circling his hips.
“You feel amazing, baby.” Robby bites out, hands coming up to guide his narrow hips up and down. “Taking Doctor Robby’s cock so good.”
He thrusts up into Dennis' body, matching his pace. It starts off slow, but then his head catches on a spongy bundle of nerves and Dennis slams his hips on the downstroke to hit it again.
He wishes he could hear Dennis’ whines like music to his ears but it’s drowned out by the sound of skin slapping and his own old man grunting. He can't help that he's loud in bed, always has been. Grunting and snarling like an ogre. He can’t remember the last time he had pussy this good. Robby stares down at where their bodies are joined to see his cock shiny with a fresh wave of slick pumping in and out… Fuck, he forgot the condom.
Robby’s too much of an asshole to bring it up. He’s having unprotected sex with his naive impressionable controversially younger intern, Dennis Whitaker. The thought pulls him right to the edge. He can feel a spurt of precome pulse out of him.
“C’mere.” He pulls Dennis down, forearms gliding over the small of his back. “You’re way too good at this, kid.” He chuckles, nipping at Dennis’ lip. “How’d you get to be so good at everything?”
The younger man shivers. “Am not...”
“You are.” Robby moves his mouth lower, beard rubbing against his neck. “You’re a great doctor, a good person, an amazing fuck—” Robby sees stars at the fluttering pressure milking his cock. “Dennis, guhh, don’t squeeze me too hard—gonna make me come.”
“I can’t help it when you say stuff like that,” Dennis whines, tucking his thighs closer around Robby.
“Such a sweetheart,” Robby curses. “Gonna give you everything you want.”
Robby crushes the younger man to his chest in a bear hold. Whitaker can’t escape from the cock pistoning up into his perfect wet cunt. His sweet boy just takes it, letting himself go limp. Before long Dennis is incoherent, babbling into his neck.
“You close, baby?” Robby grunts. He’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer.
“Yeah— Fuck!” Dennis goes stiff in his arms. His pussy squirting around Robby’s shaft.
“Oh God, oh god.” Robby’s eyes roll up. Dennis’ walls are quivering and he bucks wildly into it while it lasts. He’s balls deep in his intern when he comes, eyes widening in realization, but it’s too late to stop.
“Fucking dammit, I didn't pull out. Fuck.” His cock is still pumping his thick load inside the other man even as he apologizes. “Sorry, Denny.”
“I don't mind. Feels like you got really deep in there.” Dennis stretches out above him, wriggling in contentment.
“It was my fault. I forgot the condom.” Robby groans, closing his eyes against the sight of the younger man flushed and tousled and teary-eyed on his chest. “Are you on the pill?”
Dennis shakes his head, looking entirely too pleased about it.
“God, what if I… you…”
Dennis pouts, looking up at him with sparkling blue eyes. “You’d take care of me, right?”
His brain stutters to a stop. “You mean— Yeah, of course.” Robby can't help but notice how Dennis said ‘me’ and not ‘it.’ As if he would actually want to keep his baby. That's probably not what Dennis meant but he can pretend. “Whatever you want to do.”
Dennis smiles, tucking his cool hands under Robby's shoulders and nuzzling into him. It’s nice. His hands come up to pet at the sweaty curve of Dennis’ back, dipping between his cheeks to feel the come leak out of him.
(It’s not cuddling. Robby doesn’t cuddle.)
He’s near dozing off, wiped out by so much strenuous activity. But he feels Dennis shake him awake gently.
“Robby,” he whispers. “You don't think it's true, right? What they said about me?”
He groans, folding an arm behind his head. “It’s just a bunch of bullshit, Denny.”
“I-If it was true…” Dennis looks down, frowning at the Star of David necklace on his collarbone. “Would you think less of me?”
“‘Course not.”
“You wouldn’t be disgusted? Think I’m dirty?”
“Never.” Robby tucks a stray curl behind his ear. “You’re not like that.”
“Arent I? Maybe I am just a slut, spreading my legs the first time anyone asks me to fuck.”
Robby tsks at the younger man, pinching his ear lightly. “Language, baby.”
“Sorry.” Dennis bites his lip. “Is it bad that I wanted you to ask? God, you have such nice hands. I've wanted to jump you since day one.”
“I’ve got you now,” Robby coos. “So no more spreading your legs for anyone else. You understand me?”
Dennis huffs. “Well, if my attending says so, I guess I have to obey.” The younger man can’t seem to stop himself now, rambling into Robby's collarbone. “The guys at Presby were kinda a boy’s club. They didn't take me seriously. But you did, you respected me. I—” Dennis’ cuts off in a yawn, closing his eyes.
Robby needs to hear what else he has to say. He nudges, “You what, baby?”
Dennis rubs blearily at his cheek, mumbling, “I really really really admired you. You looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky or found the cure to cancer or something… and I didn't wanna lose that. I worried you’d be disappointed in me if you found out.”
Dennis Whitaker, the carved porcelain angel of Robby’s making, shatters. Maybe he never existed in the first place.
“Oh my sweet baby,” Robby shushes him, kisses away the quiver in his lips. “Dennis, you could never disappoint me.”
The younger man sniffles and lets himself be held, as only a real person can be held.