Robby’s touches are getting way beyond the point of appropriate but Dennis can’t bring himself to tell the man to stop.
He knows it’s wrong, they both know it’s wrong, but there’s something about how quick and dirty and unspoken it is that leaves a burning need in Dennis’ chest — specifically when he makes the right call in Trauma 2 that saves a patient’s life under Robby’s watch.
He still gets a little shaky with adrenaline when that happens, so before his next patient he slips into the break room to lean against the counter with a steadying little breath, closing his eyes to focus on slowing his racing heart before allowing a tiny smile to grace his face. He did it.
He hears the door open and close, doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is, not when he feels a warm and tall body suddenly pressing against his back. Robby can’t wear cologne at work, he doesn’t even know if Robby wears any at all, but Dennis still knows the scent of him, especially this close.
“Good call, Whitaker,” Robby murmurs, his voice so soft and deep, so full of pride it makes Dennis melt a little. Or a lot.
But, the hands on his waist made his cheeks turn pink, especially when they squeeze the small of it before sliding up, hot palms pressing through his scrubs like a brand, the touch so quick yet lingering as Robby grabs both of his pecs in his hands and gives them a slow squeeze.
Dennis swallows down a moan, his throat thick and slow, keeping his eyes closed as he feels those hands slide down, back to his waist, squeezing his hips, leaving a trail of warmth and pride before Robby’s grabbing his ass, digging his fingertips into the fatty muscle there with both hands.
“You did so good,” Robby hums his praise, his lips brushing Dennis’ ear, makes heat pool low in his gut as Robby reaches one hand around, cups his dick and balls and squeezes both, like he can’t help it.
Dennis breathes out slow, the sound bordering on a whine, wanting to press back against Robby—
But, as always, it’s over before Dennis wants it to be. Those large hands are suddenly gone and then Robby is, too, slipping out of the break room with the softest click of the door.
Dennis opens his eyes, the want in his body throbbing so hard that his eyes line with tears, still feeling the warm trails those hands had made across his body as he wonders if Robby is torturing him on purpose. Maybe he’ll never know.
He gives himself a couple breaths to calm down before he pushes himself away from the counter and heads back out into the chaos, ignoring the heavy look he can feel across the room from his attending as he does.
