if it’s getting dark early and everything feels like a bit much right now, that’s seasonal and it’s real. be extra gentle with yourself during the short-day months
but ykw at least i'm not on mount everest. at least i'm not paying tens of thousands of dollars to slowly suffocate in a 300-person line at the gates of hell. never in my life will i have to be steered in a hypoxic stupor through the maze of poop and corpses atop mount everest. on this earth a lot of horrible things can happen to you without your permission but there are a few that you have to opt into. you can just say no thanks! and be guaranteed never to have to be on mount everest. much to be grateful for actually
Summary: Your roommate (and long-time crush) Dr. Robby walks in on you masturbating when he wasn’t supposed to be home
Tags/Notes: established friendship, masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting together, mutual pining. roommates to lovers, vibrator use, praise kink, piv sex (unprotected, discussed), riding, cumming inside bc i can't help myself
Content: voyeurism/getting walked in on, one joke along the lines of "kms"
A/N: im realizing this kinktober is gonna be less kinky and more just me indulging my desires
Word Count: 2.9k
You’ve gotta be honest with yourself: It’s really hard to find time to masturbate when you live with your coworker and cover all the same shifts. It’s an old apartment with thin walls. Usually you’re left to quiet whimpers underneath the covers once you know he’s dead asleep (if you can manage to stay awake) or stolen moments with the showerhead while he’s getting ready to go. But when you know he won’t be home for a while or when he goes out of town for a trip, you’ll break out a bubble bath, some cute pajamas, and your drawer of sex toys to treat yourself to a little extra.
You’ve really, really been needing one of those nights lately, so the news that you’ll have the apartment all to yourself Saturday night is a blessing. Robby’s at the governor’s gala, receiving an award for outstanding service in medicine after saving a baby’s life on a bus or something (the details, you hate to admit, began to fizzle out when you started to imagine your options for your evening with yourself).
That night, you give Robby a hug goodbye and wish him good luck, sending him off to be a hero for the evening. The event is scheduled until nine which means, after takeout and a luxurious bath, you have a good two hours with yourself, your porn collection, and your favorite cordless Hitachi wand, with your most trusted dildo nearby in case you feel like some penetration to boot.
It’s definitely shaping up to be a good night. You’re full and content and definitely turned on from the mental foreplay when you settle on the couch around 8:00 (you and Robby had agreed when you moved into the place that sex in common areas was fine if the other person wasn’t home, not that either of you got any action), popping in your headphones and lying back with your vibrator on the absolute lowest setting, phone in your free hand.
You lose track of time somewhere around your second orgasm, watching porn with an actor you definitely would never acknowledge looking a lot like Robby – tall with broad shoulders, a graying beard, and kind eyes. Your eyes are trained on the muscles of his back as you punch the vibrator up slightly higher, ready to edge yourself again before packing it in for a really solid night of sleep.
You’re so deep in the rolling, building pleasure of it that you don’t hear the door opening or Robby quietly greeting you. It’s not unusual for you to be up late on the couch with your headphones in, watching a movie on your laptop instead of the TV for reasons he’ll never understand, so he doesn’t think much of your lack of response until he hears the buzzing.
And the wetness
And the little whimpers.
Robby moves three steps forward, deathly quiet, and takes in the scene. He can’t see everything from this angle, but he can see your knees bent back toward yourself, your shoulder pumping from working the vibrator, and your lips parted in ecstasy. His heart climbs up into his throat. It’s definitely not the first time he’s imagined something like this, but being confronted by it in real time sends his mind reeling. He debates all of his options in quick succession and finally decides on what he’s wanted to do the last six months of your long friendship: Confront it head-on.
It’s the intentional thud of his bag on the ground that startles you out of your haze. You’re panicking right away, scrambling to cover up your body with a nearby pillow as you literally throw your vibrator across the room like a kid caught with a stolen candy bar.
Instead of taking the easy, appropriate way out – muttering an apology and ducking straight into his bedroom – Robby crosses the living room and stands in front of you with the meanest smirk you’ve ever seen on his kind features. Christ, he’s dressed up. Robby never dresses up. The white button down strains over his broad chest and he’s got it rolled up to his elbows and you had just been too close to an orgasm not to notice the outline of his hardening cock against his checked gray slacks. You didn’t even know he owned slacks like that, fitted and modern.
As you bury your burning pink face in the pillow, Robby bends down and picks up your still-buzzing toy from the ground. He clicks it off in a gesture that, for some reason, is insanely sexy. It’s just nonchalant. Like he didn’t just walk in on his roommate, his long-time friend, his coworker masturbating on his couch. He holds it out to you and says, “C’mon, at least show me what you’re looking at.”
You clutch your phone tight in your fist and shove him hard on the arm as your eyes widen in horror. “I would so literally rather die, Michael. Mind getting the fuck out of here so I can go slit my wrists in the bathroom?”
Robby shakes his head, grins like the menace he is, and jokes, “Want me to whip mine out so we’re even?”
Horrified – and the shame making you even more turned on because you’re a fundamentally fucked up person, apparently – you squeak out, “Don’t tell me you saw everything.”
Robby swallows hard. His eyes devour every part of your body visible around the throw pillow that can only cover so much. “I definitely didn’t see as much as I want to.”
That sucks the air out of the room. Out of the whole apartment you share. Out of the entire world, actually.
Your muscles begin to relax. The blush in your face is spreading down your chest and it’s not just from embarrassment now. “What?”
Robby starts to unbutton his shirt, exposing the dark chest hair you’ve gotten forbidden glances of in between shifts. His voice is low, rough. Wanting. “We’ve been dancing around this a long time, sweetheart. I think it’s about time we stop pretending, don’t you?”
All you can do is stupidly repeat, “What?”
“If you don’t want me, tell me right now and we’ll go right on pretending.” The cocky bastard shrugs off his shirt and lets his hands hover over his belt. Oh god. Standing there shirtless, Robby is delectable. He’s strong and soft and sure. And then he says, “But if you do want me – the way I want you – then I want you to spread your legs again and keep showing off that pretty pussy.”
You bite your lip hard for a second, take a deep breath, and move the pillow back to the other side of the couch. The little hitch in Robby’s breathing as he takes in your bare chest is everything. “Then I want to see your cock.” You raise an eyebrow suggestively and add, “Just so we’re even.”
Robby’s hands – fuck, you’ve thought about those big hands of his way too much – undo his belt buckle, his button, and his zipper. His pants fall unceremoniously to the floor and- and his cock is outlined against the sleek, soft-looking gray briefs he’s wearing underneath.
You swallow hard, blush creeping once again back into your cheekbones, and observe, “You’re, um, you’re wearing briefs.”
“I do that when I wear slacks,” he laughs, clearly basking in your outright embarrassment at just how hot he looks. Like a goddamn underwear model with those tree trunk thighs and chest hair and strong broad shoulders and suddenly you’re surging forward to mouth over his clothed cock, possessed by something that’s been growing between you for ages. Robby’s hand drops into your hair at the sight of your desperation and he rasps, “Fuck.”
You pull back only long enough to yank down his briefs and expose his thick cock. You’ve caught glimpses of his naked body a handful of times – it was inevitable with locker room showers and a shared apartment – but you’d, of course, never taken a good long look. And it's a good look.
When Robby sees the way your pupils dilate and your mouth parts open with unbridled lust, his confidence skyrockets. He reaches out, grabs your right wrist, and guides your hand back between your legs. “Show me how you like it.”
“Robby,” you whine, trying to tug him toward you with your other hand, “I want you so bad.”
But he insists, pushing your fingers against your clit and holding them there, “No, I need to see, baby.” He leans forward, though, and keeps his hand over yours, adding slight pressure, until you start circling your clit the way he’s begging to see. His eyes drop to your hand and he whispers, “There you go, baby. That’s it. You know how many times I’ve jacked off listening to your little whimpers through the wall? How many times I’ve wished it was me touching you instead?”
You groan, “That’s fucking mortifying.”
“It’s not.” The bridge of his nose ghosts over your cheekbone. He moves his hand off of yours and wraps his fingers around his pretty cock, thumb smearing his precum. Now it’s your turn to stare. “It’s really not. There’s nothing hotter to me than you getting off.”
You moan at his words, fingers speeding up on your clit, the intimacy of his eyes making your heart thud. As you watch, Robby times the strokes to his cock with the tempo you set in yourself.”
Robby coos, somehow both dark and affectionate, “Good girl. Just like that.”
You can’t help how your thighs spasm around his body. “You did not just call me that.”
“Alright, then we can pretend you didn’t like it.”
His smirk is wicked and delicious and you kiss it off his stupid fucking face so hard it takes him by surprise. “Say it again.”
“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he murmurs against your ear, breath hot and wanting. Both your hands speed up in tandem. “So pretty touching yourself. Fucking perfect.”
It goes like that for another minute – Robby whispering filth about anything he can think of, you becoming increasingly incoherent – until you can’t possibly take it anymore.
“I need your cock,” you whimper, too desperate and slutty to be embarrassed by how needy you sound asking, “please.”
Robby chuckles and presses his forehead to yours. “I need to see you get yourself off, sweetheart.”
“Then I’ll use you like a fucking dildo, Robinavitch,” you cut back. “I want you to fuck me, so either sit your ass down and put your hands behind your head or-”
“I don’t need to hear the other option.” Absolutely grinning, Robby flips himself around and, smooth like he’s practiced it a hundred times, pulls you into his lap, too. “Need to get my hands on your tits, anyway.”
Lining your dripping slit up with his red swollen tip, you falter for a second. You sit back on his thighs, pinch the bridge of your nose, and grumble, “Wait, we should have, like, a responsible adult talk, right? I shouldn’t just let you fuck me raw right here on our couch?”
Breathing hard, Robby’s eyes very reluctantly work upward from the place where your clit is bumping against his shaft, up the curves of your stomach and hips and waist, all the way to your eyes. “Well, I know you have an IUD and haven’t slept with anyone since before COVID,” he reasons, unable to stop glancing down at your bare breasts, “and you know better than anyone that I haven’t gotten laid since Collins broke up with me and that was years ago.”
“You’re making some really compelling points, doc,” you breathe, reaching down to position him at your entrance. “Fuck, Michael.”
Robby moans loud, animalistic, and buries his face in the crook of your shoulder. His voice is wrecked as he explains, “I don’t think you’ve ever said my name outside of making fun of me.”
You kiss the side of his head and murmur against his ear, “Michael.” Then you pull back, tilt his head so you can look in his summer creek eyes, and kiss him soft and sweet. “Michael.”
It sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, really, as he kisses you again and says close against your lips, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
He sucks in a sharp breath as you rock your hips back and forth, his cock buried so deep inside your wetness that he has to concentrate to stop himself bursting right away. When you lean back and drop your fingers between your bodies to find your clit, Robby groans deep and lustful as he feels your cunt gripping around him, forcing him closer to the edge until he has to dig his thumbs into your waist hard to maintain control. “You have no idea how good you look right now. Christ. You’re perfect.”
You honestly don’t have anything to say. While your dominant hand teases your clit, your other hand goes into his hair, which is overdue for a haircut, and fists it tightly to keep your balance. Robby’s eyes roll back, the sting of pain to his scalp sending him to another stratosphere of pleasure. The way he moans borders on pornographic, loud enough to alert your neighbors in this old-ass building, but the two of you have listened to your neighbors fucking enough times that you decide not to care. Instead, you yank on his hair to increase the volume.
Your back arches as Robby’s hands rove around you, grabbing at your ass, digging into the sensitive flesh, holding you hard enough to leave bruises. God, you hope he’s leaving bruises. At that thought, you yank his head to your neck and say, “Mark me up. I want everyone to see I’m yours.”
Literally whining now, he groans against your neck, “You mean that? You wanna be mine?”
Your hips stutter faster at the idea and you rake your nails down his arm, grasping his bicep to get a better hold, to drive your hips down hard, switching from back and forth to up and down. “It’ll be really nice having a spare room, don’t you think? We could have an office. Or a gym.”
“Now that I’m thinking about it,” he grunts as sweat beads on his hairline, feet planted hard on the ground so he can thrust up into you, “I’ve always wanted a free-weight set.” Robby’s lips and teeth clamp down over your carotid and he sucks so hard it’s downright mean. Satisfied with the deep purple bruise, he adds with a horny, ridiculous smile, “Maybe a futon.”
With your thighs burning and your cunt begging, you whimper, “Please don’t make me cum right after saying you want a futon. I’d rather die than own a- Michael!”
He’s flipped you around and shoved you onto your back to take control, thrusting hard and deep and savage. “Fine. I’ll make you cum right after you fucking beg for it. That sound better to you, sweetheart?”
“Uh,” you try. “Uh.” Your rolling eyes are brimming with white hot tears all of a sudden as he plunges inside of you like an animal, stretching you, beating against your cervix. It’s bordering on painful but it’s so good. So much. So divine that all you can manage as you lock your legs around him is a throaty, “Um.”
Robby cocks his head and smirks and mocks, “‘Uh, uh, um.’ That all you have to say? Such a mouth on you, all teasing and coy, until you really get what you need, huh?” He shoves his huge hand down between you and works your clit with his large, calloused thumb, driving you into overstimulation. “Go on, baby, beg. Find your words and beg for it.”
Your brain’s positively swimming as you try to access the part of it you’re supposed to use for language. Nearly a decade of advanced education has totally left you. The only thing that exists is Robby’s cock filling you, your wetness pooling around it and dripping down onto the couch below you. “Please.”
He presses his free thumb to your lower lip until you instinctively suck and praises, “That’s my good girl.” His sweat drips onto your cheek and you honest to god want to lick it up. “Cum for me. Let go.”
“I want- I want you to finish inside me,” you stammer, “with me. Please, Michael, give it to me. Need it. Need it bad."
With a sound much more like a growl than a moan, Robby nods and kisses you like he’s drunk on your taste. His hips tense and you can feel how his balls slap against your body and you’re tightening around him, so fucking tight, claiming like your pussy wants to swallow him whole, and you can’t take it a second longer. The pulse of your orgasm is undeniable and violent. Robby sucks another harsh bruise into your neck – way too high for work – as he ruts a few final times, shaky and desperate, working your orgasm out so he can let himself go at last.
Once Robby’s cum is seeping from both of you and onto the couch, he laughs. Really laughs. So blissfully happy and exhausted that all he can say is, “I’m really glad we can skip all the early relationship bullshit and go straight to living together because I’m going to need that pussy as often as possible.”
You roll your eyes, kiss him, and laugh, too, “Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?”
He looks down at the mess your bodies have made, shakes his head in disbelief, and chuckles, “Honey, I think this means you’re about six months from being my damn wife.”
plot summary: you want to try something new in the bedroom with robby, and while wary, at first, the payoff shows itself to be valuable.
a/n: based on this post by @burgundysnow, hope you like it ! i had sm fun writing it, hope you enjoy :3 I DO NOT CONSENT TO THIS BEING TRANSLATED, POSTED OR REPOSTED OR FED INTO AI IN ANY WAY WHATSOEVER. likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated :3
tags: explicit establishment of consent, safeword and a stoplight system, usage of the stoplight system, loving husband robby, gentle dom robby, reader is afab and is referred to as having afab genitalia, medical roleplay, medical inaccuracies, fingering with gloves on, robby eating it from the back, SAFE choking with a stethoscope, safe sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), consent checks, AFTERCARE (also always very important). this should be all :3, please let me know if i missed anything !
w/c: 3.3k
divider credit : @lobster-graphics
You were both laying in bed when you proposed it to him. He looked at you twice, still laying down with your head laying gently on his chest, the colder, evening summer breeze softly making the curtains sway. He laughed, looking away and out the window towards the setting sun, then back down again.
"You really want to try it? Are you absolutely, 100% sure you want to try it?" he asked, incredulous.
You nodded, shrugging. "Why not? I mean, yeah I understand the risks, and, I trust you," you continued, rolling over until your chest was flush against his, your eyes glinting under the dimming light. "So, yeah. I do want to try it."
His big, brown eyes stared right into yours, one of his big, calloused hands lifting, moving towards the curve of your spine and dragging a finger gently up and down, enough to make you shiver in delight. He smiled, a smile you had come to recognize as genuine, and his eyes sparkled, a constellation moving inside of them.
"Stoplight system fine for you?"
You nodded eagerly, stealing his readers and putting them on your nose, and lifting your left index finger. "Red is for a complete stop, Yellow is for a temporary stop, and Green," you stopped yourself, giggling so hard he started to laugh, too, his big chest moving your body, "green is the go ahead."
He continued laughing, taking advantage of your giggles to kiss your temple lovingly, grabbing his glasses and folding them, putting them neatly back on top of the stack of books that always laid there. "Good girl. You'll tell me if I hurt you, yeah ?"
"Three taps on your arm if I can't talk and the safeword is 'rainbows' if I can."
He nodded, burying his face in your hair, inhaling deeply.
"That's good. I love you so much, thank you for trusting me with this."
You sighed tiredly. "You know I trust you with my life, Mikey."
He nodded, yawning. "Yeah. So, when do you think you want to do this?"
You hummed non commitedly. "You have a week off, right? I think it may happen then, is it okay if I say something to let you know when I'm ready?"
He nodded. "Sure, like what?"
"What about … 'I'm here to see Dr. Robinavitch', is that okay?"
"Okay. And if you decide you don't want to anymore, that's fine. But I'll make sure my scrubs and everything else are ready, if you do."
You nodded, your eyes closing against your will, draping yourself against your husband's torso.. "Mkay, night night Mikey."
"Good night, sweetheart," he reply, making sure to keep you steady by wrapping an arm behind your back. "Sweet dreams."
You spent a lot of your free time thinking about whether you wanted to start the scene with Robby; it wasn't that you hadn't wanted to, not at all, but it you also realized that in the long run, if you had just jumped right into it it wouldn't have felt right.
Which is why, on a late Wednesday afternoon after a long and thorough shower, you decided to dress yourself in the prettiest lingerie you owned (gifted by him, of course),and a simple black nightshirt with pink hearts on it with a matching pair of socks, your feet travelling through your big house, down the hall towards his study. You knocked three times on the door, waiting for him to reply.
"It's open, sweetheart, come on in."
You opened the door so as to have it slightly ajar enough to peek your head through the opening, smiling as you saw the state the room was in; he was seated on the plush chair, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, eyes and mind immersed on the medical reports in front of him, journals and notebooks scattered on the spacious mahogany desk. He looked up for a second as he heard you come in, he looked up towards the door, smiling.
"Everything okay?"
You nodded, suddenly interested on the floor as you moved your foot back and forth. You didn't look up when you heard the chair squeak gently against the floor as he got up, only doing so when you heard his gentle footsteps stopping in front of you, his hand gently intertwining with yours.
"There you are, sweetheart," Robby said quietly. "Are you okay?"
You nodded, biting your lip for a second, eyes darting around the room, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, looking up at Robby and seeing the eyes of the man you love, glittering with mirth and concern in equal measure. "I'm here to see Dr. Robinavitch."
He grinned. "Are you 100% sure, baby?"
You nodded. "Yeah, I am."
"Green ?"
"The greenest," you reassured him, winking.
"Okay," he smiled, kissing you sweetly on the forehead. "Go lay down on the bed, I'll go change and then come to the bedroom."
You nodded, kissing him on the cheek and quickly walked towards the bedroom, laying down in your expensive, midnight blue cotton sheets with matching pillows, biding your time while looking at the pictures and paintings scattered across your bedroom. Both your degrees framed, front and centre on the wall, wedding day and honeymoon pictures, pictures with Jack and Dana and your colleagues at the newsroom, an assorted variety of pictures that spanned from both your chidlhoods to just a few years ago, a collage of holidays and memories of both good and bad days framed on the walls.
You had never been happier before you met him; and, thankfully, it was the same for him, too.
When your eyes landed on the door, after you heard the door creak and open, you smiled. The love of your life was in his scrubs, dark green undershirt, black scrub top and his usual camo pants, mismatched blue and white socks and his readers perched on his beautiful nose, stethoscope around his neck and holding a pen and a chart in his hand.
"Good morning ma'am," he started, walking up towards the bed in his confident yet quiet stride, "my name is Dr. Michael Robinavitch, but you can call me Dr. Robby."
You smiled, feeling your face flush. "Hello, Dr. Robby."
"So, what seems to be the issue here?"
You smiled, clearing your throat as you adjusted the hem of your night shirt. "I think i have some, uh, issues with my pelvic floor ? I wouldn't really know how to explain it, but it just feels very, uhm, tight ? And painful, at times?"
He nodded, keeping his eyes down on his chart as he scribbled on it. "What type of pain? Pressure, stabbing pain, pins and needles, lightning?"
You bit your lip, trying to explained it him. "More pressure than anything maybe?" you chuckled, fiddling with your fingers, "I'm sorry, I'm not a physician."
He smiled, lightly squeezing your hand with his. "It's okay, we will figure this out together." He started putting gloves on, the biggest glove size you noticed, feeling your mouth water and a wet patch forming on your lavender panties.
"Please plant your feet on the bed and lift your night shirt a little."
You did as he asked, looking at him in the eyes as he looked into your, a reassuring smile on his face, the hand now on your knee squeezing it in reassurance.
"Thank you, now, I will put both my hands on your hips, see if i can feel something wrong there." He explained as he took the desk chair and rolled towards the edge of the bed, doing exactly as described, your mind spinning as you saw that his big hands wrapped around the span of your hips.
"Mh, I don't feel anything wrong. Is it painful, during sex with your … ?"
"Husband, my - my husband, and no, he's a very attentive lover so he always made sure I was never in pain." You looked to the side, embarassed, "But, we did end up doing an … unusual, sex position, I guess you could say," you chuckled nervously, "and I've felt weird ever since."
He nodded, his lips pursed together in an attempt to suppress his laughter. "Okay, that explains it. There's absolutely no shame in it." He looked down at your panties, noticing the growing wet spot, and smiled. He looked up at you, and, very gently, pressed on your mound, making you gasp in pleasure.
"That felt good ?"
You nodded in response, moaning quietly as he pressed on it again.
He then moved a finger down, pressing gently on your clit first and your hole through your panties, making you moan louder. He added another finger, rubbing both up and down on the wet patch of fabric. "This doesn't hurt, right ?"
You nodded, moaning and grinding against his fingers. "So - mh, so good."
He nodded, continuing the up-and-down motion of his fingers. "Good. Color?"
"Green," you whined, "so green."
He smiled, nodded and stopped for a second to plant a hand firmly on your hip. "Okay, please lay your head down and let me know how this feels," he warned, smiling, as he pushed your panties to the side, plunging one gloved, long finger inside your winking hole, causing you to arch your back. He then moved his finger, first up and down, in and out then curling it, trying to find that sweet spot, grinning in victory as he found your G-spot, making you moan loudly.
"That's the spot."
He then added a second finger, the latex of his gloves adding to the pleasure he was giving you so reverently, scissoring you open and adjusting himself through his comfortable scrub pants, his cock twitching to life as the sound of your gushing pussy and the moans ricocheting through the walls of the room. When he looked up at you, face blissed out and eyes rolled in the back of your head, he stopped for a second, keeping his fingers inside you.
"Green ?"
"Really ?" you groaned in annoyance, "A consent check ?"
He simply nodded, arching his eyebrows up.
"Fine ! Green, just - just don't stop."
"As you wish, ma'am," and with that, he continued to finger you open, pressing his thumb against your clit, rubbing it in gentle circles, smiling when he felt you gush around his fingers. Once he felt your legs shake against the bed, he smiled, adding a third finger and rubbing mercilessly against your G-spot. "Come on, cum for me."
You immediately obeyed his words, the orgasm a tsunami washing over you.
He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your clit only to pull away immediately after, holding out his dirty gloves towards your lips, only having to tap his three fingers once against your mouth before you opened your lips, licking all of your cum away from them, moaning at your sweet taste, eyes rolling into the back of your head has he started dragging his fingers up and down your tongue.
Once he was satisfied, pulling his hand away from your mouth, he snapped his gloves off, rolling the desk chair he was sitting on towards the waste bin in your bedroom, throwing them in there and getting another pair of gloves from the box in his desk after sanitizing his hands.
"Okay, ma'am, I would like to try something else now." He started, surprisingly still in character.
You nodded, waiting eagerly for the next instruction.
"Would you mind getting on your hands and knees, with your face facing the headboard ? And please, take off your night shirt, ma'am."
You smiled and immediately got to work, slowly taking off your night shirt to show off your matching set consisting of a lavender bralette and panties, the latter now soaked and the former framing your breasts so beautifully, Michael's mouth watering instantly. You got on all fours, resting your palms against the soft pillows, facing the wooden headboard of your king-sized bed, then spreading your legs a little.
"Is this okay, Dr. Robby.?" You asked, coyly.
He nodded, slowly inching towards you as his knees hit the mattress. "Perfect." He then stopped behind you, massaging his hands carefully up and down the expanse of your back, stopping for a second to pay close attention to your ass, massaging and groping it slightly, giving you the smallest slap against the left cheek. "Is it okay if I push your head down towards the mattress? Just to check for uh, flexibility issues."
"O - Of course, Dr. Robby."
He smiled, grabbing you gently by the back of your head, pushing your face towards the pillows, pushing your head there to keep it still. He licked his lips as he saw the arch in your back, staring very intently at the wet spot growing in your panties.
"Does that hurt?"
You shook your head. "No, not really in - in this position."
He smiled. "Good," he drawled, "that's good."
He hesitated for a second, pushing your shoulders further down, pulling you down the bed and spreading your legs. "Would it be okay if I tried something, ma'am?" He asked, already bending over and spreading your cheeks, pushing your panties in the middle of your thighs.
"Sure what did you have in - oh my God," you gasped loudly, followed by one of the most pornographic moans you think you have ever emitted in your life. You couldn't see it, but if you could, you would have come on the spot: he was kneeling down behind you, hands gripping your hips as he licked a stripe from hole to clit, suckling softly on it a couple of times before eating you out like a starving man. Your jaw dropped open, letting out a string of moans that to him may as well have been his favorite symphony, your juices dripping down his beard and onto his scrubs top, his eyes closed in bliss as he moaned against you in nothing but pure hunger. He continued on for what felt like hours, the symphony of slurping sounds and loud moans making a sensual cacophony, with pleasure and the squeaking of the mattress due to yours and his knees moving to adjust his posture, trying to prevent his back from aching in the morning. Once he latched his expert lips on your clit again, it didn't take you that long to come again, a shout and the shake in your leg (and his soaked beard) the signs of ultimate pleasure.
He pulled away from you, panting, looking at you in a more disheveled state.
"I'll need to clean this before Monday," he lamented, pulling at his scrub top, "it's almost soaked through."
He looked at you sideways, watching the string of drool landing from your soft lips to the pillows.
"Color ?" He asked, checking in.
You finger-spelled "green," brain too blissed out to verbally respond but not enough to not have heard.
"Perfect," he said, unzipping his pants, unleashing his big, lengthy cock from the confines of his boxers, rolling a condom on himself that he had gotten from the pocket of his camo pants. "Because the fun is really about to begin."
He breached your entrance unceremoniously, moaning at the grip of your sopping hole. His thrusts were slow, but hard and deep, hitting all of the sweet spots inside you with no difficulty, the dragging sensation of his veins adding only to the haze that was clouding your brain. His thrusts started to pick up speed over time, one of his big hands cupping your skull, resting you gently more against the pillow before the grand finale.
He leaned towards you, a whispered "You ready for the last act?" while waiting for a nod.
And when you did, he grinned.
It's showtime.
He grabbed his stethoscope from around his neck, while, with the other hand, he grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail to pull you up with, exposing your pretty neck to him, making you moan from the new angle the position put you into. For a second he dropped your hair, trusting you to keep position while he adjusted his, putting the stethoscope around your throat and pulling up, like a rider with his horse's reins.
The moment he did that, your eyes rolled back, the slight daze in your head becoming a fully fledged fog, the pleasure rising enough to make you come on the spot, tightening around him as he also started to get close.
He then gripped both extremities of the medical instrument with one hand, his other sneaking around your hips to spread your labia with one finger before rubbing at your clit with perfect pressure, trying to get you to come alongside him once more. Once you did, coming with a shudder and a moan that could be mistaken as scream, he came inside the condom too with a moan, making sure to be right next to your head as he did so.
He pulled out of you and laid you down on your bed, taking of the condom and tying it off before throwing it away. He walked to the en-suite bathroom, grabbing two clean towels and wetting them, using one to wipe himself down and the other to wipe you down, making sure you were completely clean before peppering kisses on your face, trying to get you to open your eyes.
"C'mon, sweetie, open your eyes," he giggled, pressing a kiss to one of your eyelids just before it twitched open. "There you are, beautiful," he said with a smile.
"How are you doing ?"
You looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "I think I will be sore for my next lifetime, but good."
"Yeah ? all good?"
"Mhmh," you hummed in confirmation.
"Come on," he started, pulling you up in a bridal carry, "You've gotta pee then I'll make you anything you want." He sat you down on the open toilet, letting you handle your business and wiping before he did it himself, picking you up and setting you down on the bed again.
"I guess I'll buy you a new lavender set."
"What ? Michael ! That was new," you whined, "I really liked that one."
"I know, baby, I'm sorry," he cooed softly, kissing you on the forehead again. "You did so well, so good for me."
You smile, exchanging a couple of pecks on the mouth with him for a few minutes before he pulled away, searching your face for any pain or discomfort with furrowed brows. "Are you in any pain ? Hungry ? Thirsty?"
You looked up at the ceiling deep in thought for a moment, taking a few deep breaths as you thought about it carefully before replying. "I could do something to drink. No pain for now, and maybe something to eat ?"
He smiled, mock saluting you before going to the kitchen and making you what he always made you after an intense or long scene like this one: a slice of rye bread, peanut butter, a banana and a drizzle of your favorite honey. He loved taking care of you; not just like this, after you shared your interest and explored the depths of your trust and intimacy like that with him, but he just liked making sure you were okay in every way, from a cold to your emotional wellbeing. Once he'd finished making your favorite "post-workout snack" (as you affectionately called it) and filling up a glass with apple juice, he walked back to the bedroom, stopping and marveling at the sight of you under the covers, sitting up but all comfortable and cozy.
He set the plate on his side of the bed, crawling up into the bed and handing you the glass of juice, smiling at seeing you downing it all in one gulp. Once he also settled down under the covers, he handed you the plate, watching you savor the snack, the noises made while chewing rivaling the ones you made during the scene.
"That good, uh?"
"Oh, shut up, Robinavitch." You said through a mouthful, pretending to be irritated.
He grinned playfully. "You love me."
"Unfortunately," you replied, "You're correct."
You fell asleep cuddled to one another not long after, limbs tangled together in peaceful slumber, letting the late summer afternoon bleed into another blissful summer night.
The fact that, after that blow up, Whitaker still went out of his way to defend Langdon in this conversation, when the only other person he did that for was Trinity, is really meaningful
Al-Hashimi's cry in the car was so fucking relatable to anyone who has a chronic illness that feels like they're being barred from doing what they want because of something that they had no choice or control over.
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