Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
Pairing: Dr. Brendon Park (Park the Shark) x Fem, Grad Student! Reader
A/N: ... I'm back, hehe, yes this is based off five seconds of screen time of this man, but your honor i need him, also this one is kind of based off my current academic situation, :)) and I need to manifest success and DILF doctors in my life, this thesis is also killing me and I'm procrastinating by writing this, @inkdippedquills inspired this idea to do an academic reader based on their own life and phd and i loved it, so thank you !! enjoy some shark, my man :) maybe I'll do a part 2 if it turns out okay lol
Summary: You're Dana's niece and absolutely off-limits to the Pitt staff, especially to the intimidating ortho surgeon upstairs, but when did that ever stop deep-seated attraction and young love?
Warnings: SMUTTT, age gap (reader 24 and shark is 40) allusions to bad family, reader gets drunk, degradation AND praise kink, masturbating, use of sex toys, mention of body type aka chubby reader (because of course), oral (f! receiving), p-in-v, fingering, unprotected sex (reader has IUD)
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It's a slow night at the end of the day shift in the Pitt and you're sitting in the employee break room waiting for your Aunt to get off work.
Dana wanted to take you out to dinner at your favorite spot since you both have been busy, so you promised to pick her up from work, but as always, she was running behind, considering how integral she was to making sure everything ran smoothly here (or as smooth as it could be).
Twenty minutes have passed since you've arrived and you were smart enough to bring your laptop and notepad in your tote, all spread out like a work station as you are the only one occupying the room. Something about the chaos existing just outside the door, giving you bustling voices and footsteps as a background noise for your studies.
Faces passed by as you sat there, each person sending you a smile or a friendly wave that you happily return.
Robby walked up and leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, "How's it going in there?"
You smiled softly. "It's going," you bit down on the cap of your pen.
"You don't mean that," he chuckled. "I'm sure you're doing fine."
You shook your head, looking up at him from the table, "Yeah, we'll see what my advisors think. I'm really needing to focus these next couple of weeks."
"I always liked Jo's cafe up the street," he nodded. "It's quiet and you might find it to be a good study space like I did."
"Oh, wow, it's still there?" you grinned. "After all those years?"
He rolled his eyes, "I'm never helping you again. Also, I'm only... Nevermind." You laughed.
Someone moved past him, but he's quick to catch their attention so that they stop. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of them.
"Look who's made an appearance," Robby gestured to you with a tilt of his head. You frowned briefly at him for his meddling.
Brendon Park, the brooding, stormy ortho surgeon, stood there and took in the sight of you at the table: your messy hair, your restless, pink rimmed eyes, your flushed lips from being chewed between your teeth when deep in thought, and that hopeful curve in your brow whenever you look at him.
The kind that hoped he'll stay around to talk but knew he never will. Yet, you two always seem to run into one another in these hallowed halls when you visit. The softness you invoke deep in his chest makes his stomach feel uneasy, shaking that steely resolve of his. It's terrifying. You terrify him. Coming from a man that holds severed limbs in his gloved hands.
Thump, thump, thump.
You ignored the pounding between your ribcage and mustered a small smile, "Hey, Park."
He nodded in your direction, still on the go, still waiting to leave even as he stood there.
His voice is quieter than normal, almost lost in the hustle and bustle of the room. "Hi," he grunted.
Robby glanced between you two and smiled to himself, pleased. He caught on to your crush in the early days of meeting you, and while he knew you were far too kind and too young for Park, that didn't stop the teasing. Like an Uncle who ribbed you in front of your friends to embarrass you.
"Alright then," he cut through the tense silence and turned to you. "Still getting drinks with us after work?"
"I owe Dana a dinner date, but if you guys are still out, we'll meet you there," you smiled. Park just stood and watched you, chest fluttering in a way that made him feel like an exposed nerve.
You dared to pose the obvious question to him standing there, stock still behind Robby, "Are you coming, Park?"
Robby barked a laugh, "Are we talking to the same man here?"
Park cut him a look then back to you, softer, lower, "I have to go prep for surgery." You looked down, trying to hide your disappointment with a small, feigned smile.
He paused for a moment, "But it was good to see you." And he's gone. Your chest swirled with warmth.
This pretty much summed up the interactions between you and Brendan Park. Short and tense and only briefly satisfying.
"See," Robby smiled and followed after him. "What I tell you?" You flipped him off on his way out.
It's been going on since you've moved to Pennsylvania three months ago for grad school, getting your second master's degree in public health after an undergrad and master's in journalism. You wanted to change the world, to help people with a passion for healthcare without the proclivity for the maths and sciences. Research and writing was more your speed.
Dana was your favorite relative and she spoke highly of the public health university by the UPMC before offering you a place to stay until you found your own, since her own daughters are moved out. It felt perfect.
You fell in love with the city and the employees of the Pitt were quickly becoming your close friends. You came down here on slower mornings before class to bring the staff coffees and muffins and during shift changes to pick up people to go to the bar nearby. Or days like today when you would use the break room to study.
That's when you encountered Brendon Park, aka the shark, for the first time. All intense eye contact, head nods, and that low voice always tinged with a razor sharp edge.
But he never seemed to stay near you longer than a minute or two at a time, unless it was a group get-together he was roped into, only when other surgeons are present or Robby deigned to show his face.
It unsettled you. He did. You're always nice to him, albeit a bit awkward at times, but you didn't see any reason he would have to dislike you. You knew his reputation, hell, you knew his nickname. You saw the looks he gets in the ED when he comes down the elevator. But surely he could at least talk to you.
Once, when bringing Dana something she forgot at home, you watched through the window of a trauma room, his slow, methodical glances to the patient and everyone standing waiting for him to speak. He controlled a room without much thought or effort.
You heard the whispers and rumors of interns he'd send home crying and even residents would back away at the sight of him. The silver fin cutting through the water.
When he would run into you, it was... different, fainter. This towering, broad-shouldered brick house with slick hair and dark eyes would see you, your smile and wave, and he would flee. You'd offer a coffee if you had an extra when he was downstairs during a consult. He'd mutter a small 'thank you' before leaving with no conversation.
And you being you, took that personally. He seemed to at least converse with other people around here, what was so repulsive about your presence?
Now, it was a challenge to be won. If you could get Santos to enjoy your company, surely you could rope Park into a conversation or two.
It's October now, the air was cooler and life had calmed down for everyone. And yet, you can't seem to shake this push and pull. This man over fifteen years your senior, this mythic, foreboding figure, who you find yourself constantly wanting more of. There were people your age interested, sure, your classmates and friends of friends. But you couldn't care less. You wanted the complicated option.
Dana walked up to the door with her bag in hand and a warm smile when she saw you, "Hey, kid. You ready for dinner? I'm starved."
You grinned, "Are we going to the bar with everyone after?"
"We can," she chuckled and wrapped an arm around you. "I could use a pint."
You sighed, "I need a tequila shot. Or two."
"God, I forget you're 24."
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"I think you wanna fuck him," Trinity Santos pointed her beer bottle at you.
You shushed her loudly, putting a hand over her mouth. She grinned against your palm and playfully bit your skin, you groaned.
It was just you, Santos, Whittaker, Robby, Dana, and the new nurse, Emma, everyone else sleeping off their long shifts in their own homes this Friday night. You six, however, needed to blow off some steam.
Santos and you stood at the bar, tasked with getting everyone else their drinks while they sat by the pool table, rowdy and loud.
You two were school girls, you giggling over a boy you like and your friend teasing you about it. All while your very protective Aunt, who despised almost every man she worked with, or men in general for that matter, stood only six feet away none the wiser.
"Keep your voice down," you whispered through gritted teeth, still waiting on the tray of drinks. "I don't want Dana to hear."
"Yeah," Trinity laughed. "She'll go shark hunting."
You scoffed, "Funny. Seriously, though, I just think he's hot... it's a silly crush."
"I don't think it's unfounded," she raised her eyebrows at you. "I see how he looks at you, too. We all do."
"Don't tease me. It's mean."
"I'm not, I'm being serious!" she threw her hands up in surrender. "You'll be visiting and he'll come down for a consult and just stare at you in the hall like you're his strawberry flavored protein shake or something. He's definitely into you."
You looked at her, unconvinced.
"And it's probably why Dana gives him "I'll kill you" looks every time we see him downstairs."
Emma walked up to you both with a bright smile. You returned it and wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her to your side.
Emma hugged your waist, "You guys talking about how she wants to have the shark's babies?"
You blinked hard at her, hurt, "Et tu, Brute?"
"You and Dana are too much alike sometimes," Santos shook her head and sipped her drink.
"What?" Emma laughed, all bubbly. Her curls bounced, "I think you two would look good together."
"He's like 40. It's a pipe dream. Like being into a teacher."
"So?" Santos said.
"So?" you echoed with eyebrows raised. "It's-"
"Trust me," Emma looked at you. "Guys our age are... well, stupid."
You laughed and grabbed the tray of drinks for everyone, shaking your head at the thought of Park the Shark having even a lick of attraction to you.
He hardly even spoke to you, how could he think anything of you when he barely knew you? The last few months have been only glances and fragments of conversations in passing, maybe one or two social events he's been dragged to, but seldom anything more than that.
Still, a red hot stripe of heat makes its way through your stomach thinking of him staring at you when you weren't looking. You never thought feeling like prey would excite you so much.
The same eyes that examined flesh and bone, hands you wanted on you that practically molded Adam from clay every time he's in an OR. He stirred fear in interns like the monsters in closets conjured up by small children.
And you didn't think lowly of yourself, but really, the idea of you both together was laughable. You couldn't imagine a world where it was possible.
But two hours and a few more cocktails later and you're dialing his number in the bathroom.
You didn't remember why you had it, it seemed like a cruel joke played on you by Robby or something. He was close with Dana, yes, but even he knew not to mention to her your little crush. That didn't stop him from making jokes with you in private, though.
He'd be the type to put it in your phone to mess with you while you weren't looking. He knew your password and you regretted it now. But you weren't going to look the gift horse in the mouth on this one.
Dana took your car home, and you promised you'd find a way back with the others because she was exhausted and you wanted to stay with your friends. It's midnight now and clearly time to make bad decisions.
It rang for only a few seconds before you heard him on the other line, "Hello?"
"Hey..." you smiled to yourself, checking your makeup in the bathroom mirror, singing the word.
There's a low exhale. "How'd you get my number, sweetheart?"
Sweetheart. "No idea, but I saw it and I don't know... I wanted to talk to you," you giggled. "Are you mad?"
"I'm not mad," his voice is tired, a pang of guilt hit you, and he sighed. "Why'd you call? Are you alright?"
"I'm a bit drunk," you put a hand over your mouth, unable to get yourself to stop smiling. "I'm at the bar... and Dana went home. Sorry, I got bored and I'm gonna drive home with someone-"
A beat of silence passed. "I'll bring you home. Give me ten minutes."
You groaned, "I didn't call so you could give me a ride, Brendon-"
"I know," you heard keys jingling and a door shutting in the background. "Just text me your address and wait there." The call ended.
You feel an ache low in your belly that you attribute to the liquor, but you knew it was his tone; that matter-of-factness. He doesn't want to be questioned. Nor did you want to. Perhaps when you were sober, but now, you did what you were told and sent him what he asked for.
You walked back out to the bar, dragging your hands down your face. Santos, Whittaker, and Emma were the only ones left now, the three of them talking at the table.
"Oh no," Santos looked at your crestfallen expression, sitting up straighter. "What did you do?"
"I called him."
"Called who?"
Your eyes widened, "Him."
Trinity gasped and leaned toward you, grinning, "Oh my god, no you didn't... this is the best day of my life."
"Is this about Park?" Whittaker furrowed his brow. You sent Trinity a look for being a snitch.
"We live together, okay?" she defended. "It's hard to keep secrets when you take phone calls in a shared living room."
"Well, now he's coming to get me," you sat down abruptly, stumbling. Emma steadied your chair. "He heard how drunk I sounded and... now he's on his way. I'm so fucking embarrassed."
"I think it's sweet," Emma shrugged. She sipped her vodka cranberry, "He's taking care of you."
"Cause he's old enough to be her dad," Whittaker muttered. Trinity shoved him for that.
She sighed, "If you're going to be present for girl talk, fuckleberry, you need to be cool." He scoffed and shoved her back.
Headlights appear outside shortly after your conversation ended, a sleek, black sports car parked by the front door of the bar. All four of your eyes shoot to the car that's worth all of your tuitions combined, the roar of the engine doing little to calm the rapid beat of your heart and the warmth spreading all over your body.
"I'm going to die," you whispered.
"Just... don't talk too much," Santos advised. "Let him take you home and don't wake up Dana. Or you're both dead."
"It was nice knowing you," Emma teased. You whined just as the door opened.
And just like in the OR, that same commanding presence hypnotized the four of you and every patron in the bar, everything but the music in the jukebox halting. He stalked over to your table and you swore you heard Dennis gulp beside you.
You couldn't help the way your eyes fell over his navy henley shirt and dark jeans, a far cry from the purple scrubs he dons at work.
Brendon's eyes widened slightly and he stopped at the sight of his coworkers, knowing this would bite him in the ass on Monday. But when he peered down at you and your soft, open smile, liquor flushed, he didn't seem to mind too much.
"Hey," he said to your friends. They all nodded wordlessly, muttering small greetings, starstruck.
"You really didn't have to do this," you told him, still slightly slurred.
"I uh," he looked at everyone, suddenly sheepish. "I thought you were alone."
"Well, Emma's staying with us tonight and we live on the other side of town," Santos piped up, smiling. "So, she would have had to Uber or wait forever if not for you."
He bit back a smile at the look on your face when you glanced at your friend, openly irritated.
He only nodded to the door and moved a hand to your waist to help you up, "Then, let's go. You ready?" You reluctantly nodded.
Your friends watched you both in shock and awe as he led you to his car, a palm to the small of your back to keep you upright. You threw them a look over your shoulder, one that said to 'shut the fuck up or face the consequences.' Santos threw you a thumbs up and mimed a lewd gesture that made you roll your eyes.
"Are you always... having this effect on rooms you walk into?" you looked up at him through your lashes as he held the door open for you. “It happens at the Pitt, too.”
He pinched his brow, looking both ways before crossing the lot to his car, "What do you mean?"
"Taking all the attention," you laughed and slid into his passenger seat with his help.
He started up the ignition, chuckling, "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that." You warmed at the sound of his laugh, even if it was only a slight one.
"You do, though," you leaned back into the leather seat and stared at the way his fingers flexed over the gear shift, silver rings on thick fingers and veins up his muscular arms. Your mouth went dry and you swallowed hard.
He met your eyes for a brief moment before focusing on the road, "It's you they're looking at."
You looked down, "I doubt that."
"Don't be dense. You have to know."
You scoffed, taken aback, "Know what? That you're intimidating?"
"That you're stunning," he said it like it was the most true thing he's ever felt.
Like a fact, so simple and yet so deeply profound to you. How could he do that? Say something so small that you'd be thinking about for weeks after in the calm of your bedroom by yourself. He didn't even have to try. It would be infuriating if it wasn't also so enjoyable.
You folded your hands in your lap and flushed with heat, "Oh... thank you."
The two of you were quiet for a few minutes as he drove down the freeway to your apartment, his hand still on the shift, rock music low on the radio.
"I love Alice in Chains," you smiled at the song playing. "That's awesome... I never hear people play them."
You glimpsed a soft smile on his face, hardened features loosening when he peered back at you, and he nodded in agreement, "Me too."
A hush fell over the car. "Can I ask you something?"
He paused, hesitating. "Sure."
You yawned, sleep tugging at your eyes, "Do you... not like me?"
Brendon furrowed his brow, fully turning to look at you as he took your exit. "You think I don't like you?" You nodded, frowning.
"Of course I like you, sweetheart," he sighed out, guilt gnawing at him. "I just don't have many friends."
"Why?"
"People find me scary."
"I don't," you said quietly, staring openly at him. His face reddened slightly as he pulled into the parking lot.
"You don't know me very well."
You exhaled with a small smile, more clearheaded as sleep takes ahold of you instead of the liquor, "I know enough. I just think you're brooding and... grumpy. And you could maybe be nicer to the interns sometimes, but I see how you treat your staff. You run a tight ship and you have high expectations, but you're good at your job and your department speaks highly of you because of it. I've had professors like you, they're strict but they're always the ones who help me the most."
Brendon had parked as you were speaking and sat there gaping at you, all stormy, blue eyes and breath caught in his throat. No one had ever said something like that to him in his time at the Pitt, no colleague, or family, or relationship. You saw him over the last few months and saw everything. It made his chest squeeze.
"Thank you… that actually means a lot," he looked away, fingers inching in your direction. He pulled back. "Do I need to walk you up?"
You shook your head, unaware in this moment at the way you spilled your guts to him just now, only thinking of the allure of your bed and a cold glass of water. You'd probably only remember pieces in the morning.
You smiled, "Nah, I'm okay."
You opened the door and almost tripped out of the car, but he's by you in mere moments. He gripped the sides of your waist and pulled you up with ease, helping you walk to the lobby doors.
"Maybe I need a little help," you pinched your fingers to show just how little you needed. You were absolutely fine. "I'm sorry... I guess I drank more than I thought."
"It's okay," he whispered. "You don't need to apologize."
"You're really nice," you touched the side of his face gently and his mouth curved slightly. "Not shark-like. More like a big cat."
Park shook his head and brought you inside, trying not to laugh at the state of you. He brought you to the elevator and you pressed the number to your floor. You leaned against his shoulder as the elevator went up and he stilled at the feeling of your head nestled against him, his hand hovering near you in case you fell again.
The doors slid open and your apartment was the first you saw. You put a finger up to your lips, shushing, "We have to be quiet."
"Okay," he nodded, knowing deep down that would not be a problem for him but letting you say it to him, anyway. He opened the door and let you in.
You immediately stumbled into the counter and held back a wince, muttering curses under your breath. He steered you toward your bedroom at the end of the hall, but you weren't going to be quiet anytime soon, so he made the executive decision to lift you up bridal style, carrying you through the cracked door. You wrapped your arms around his neck and laid your head on his chest, inhaling his Old Spice deodorant and woodsy detergent, something adjacent to clean linen, too.
"You smell good," you commented, cooing. "Like a fireplace. And laundry." He flushed again. He needed to stop doing that.
He gently placed you down in your bed, but your hands stayed encircled around his neck. He met your eyes, amused.
"You have to let go."
"Don't want to," you yawned. "You're warm."
Maybe it was a trick of the light or your tired, drunken haze, but he smiled softly when he looked at you in a way that felt sacred in the glow of your golden lamp.
"You're drunk."
"You should be drunk," you finally let your hands fall from his broad shoulders and he moved to take off your heels, handing you a makeup wipe from your bedside table. "It's very nice."
His eyes fell over your face and you smiled back at him, wiping off your makeup haphhazardly. A piece of his chestnut hair fell between his eyes, "You seem to be having fun."
"Well, if you were drunk, you could kiss me."
His gaze averts to your mouth before he could help it, even in your daze you noticed that with a smugness. The thought of it was enough to light his skin on fire, littered with goosebumps. He took the wipe from your hands, threw it away, and helped your head hit the pillow comfortably.
"Go to sleep, sweetheart."
You crumpled at that but it didn't completely dissuade you. He still had a hand against your forearm, thumb brushing up and down. His voice is uncharacteristically soft and you wanted to kiss him so bad, that you felt it so deep in your bones that it ached.
"But... can you stay?" you yawned again, stretching out your arms and your shirt riding up from it. He watched you move with quiet adoration. "Until I fall asleep?"
Something wars on his face, conflict and wanton need fighting it out for a place there. His brow furrowed. "I should go."
You frowned and leaned further into your pillow, eyes fluttering shut and voice quiet, "Please?"
He paused for a moment, stock still beside your bed. It didn't have to mean anything for him to wait here beside you, your aunt who he works with in the next room. Likely a gun owner, to boot.
He shouldn't stay at all, he shouldn't have wanted to come to rescue you, or carry you to your bed. Such a young, naive thing he wants to be near at all times. But he's almost twice your age, once divorced, and perpetually angry, also an insufferable perfectionist.
When he looked at you, half asleep now in your pink duvet covers, though, he couldn't think of anything less than perfection.
So, he relented with a nod and sat down in the love seat next to your bed, by your open window with moonlight streaming in to cradle your face in milky shadows. An angel. Not that he believed in that sort of thing, but there were no mortal words to describe you, he thought. Only otherworldly ones.
Thankfully for him, it didn't take long for you to slip into slumber, curled up under your blanket with a light snore. He let himself look at you for only a few moments before sneaking out as silently as he could.
Brendon shut the door quietly behind him and caught a glimpse of Dana in the kitchen, now sitting at the counter in a bathrobe and pajamas, while he stood by the door. A deer in headlights. The two of them locked eyes.
He straightened up, "I was only-"
"I know," she put a hand up to interrupt him. "And I'm appreciative of that. But that's all that will be. She's young. She's new here. And I love that kid. So, I don't need guys like you to chew her up and spit her out, understand?"
Dana was always the only person at the Pitt who didn't fall for his intimidation, she had that part locked down herself. To have her in your corner was a sight to behold, but heaven forbid you were on the other end of it.
Park doesn't defend himself or say anything, just nodded quickly and turned to walk out. She was right. He knew she was. He knew better than to act on these inexplicable feelings for you. If he could will them away, he would have months ago.
He wouldn't be thinking about you in the stillness of his condo in the middle of the night, his hand on his cock, your name on his lips and dreaming of those damn sundresses you wear around the break room. That smile you always send his way.
You were beloved by everyone at the Pitt and impossibly sweet, too sweet for him. He poisoned everything he touched with a bitter aftertaste and you would be no exception to that.
No one at work looked him in the eye without wide-eyed fear. You were the only person who looked at him like he was a person and not some nickname. Not that he deserved it. But you deserved better.
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It was the next morning and your head was pounding, but thank god, it was the weekend.
Dana would be gone today for a day trip with your Uncle Benji, not back until tomorrow afternoon. She deserved the break, and you needed to let your pounding headache from your hangover subside without her maternal, but loving, judgement.
You pulled your phone out and scrolled through the onslaught of texts from her, Robby, and your friends checking in and making sure you got home okay. As well as dirty gifs sent by Trinity in your group chat with the rest of your friends, all asking for details. You shook your head with a small smile.
That's when it all flooded back to you. Brendon taking you home, your flirting, your compliments, how you probably reeked of desperation. You put a pillow against your face and let out a frustrated scream, flushed with embarrassment and wishing there was some kind of hole that could form below you and swallow you up.
You knew you had to do damage control now, even if it meant making it worse, avoiding him forever would be risking far more. And from what you could remember, it wasn't all bad. If your drunk, tired mind wasn't playing tricks on you, he seemed to even be into it. Even admitting to liking you and finding you stunning.
You pull up his contact and start typing.
I'm so sorry again for last night. Thank you for helping me.
You start typing again.
Dana's gone for the weekend. I can make you dinner as a thank you for dealing with me being insane last night. I'm a great cook, I promise it's at least edible lol
Your finger hovered over the send button, heart thundering in your chest.
You sent it. A few minutes passed.
Seen.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Your stomach dropped at the three bubbles appearing and disappearing over the span of ten minutes, leaving your skin hot from the nerves. You even leave to get water and a snack to get you mind off of it, but it's no use. This was a mistake, wasn't it? He would never entertain this and now you've ruined everything-
Your phone pinged. You scrambled for your phone, nearly spilling your cup over.
Stop apologizing. I appreciate the offer, but I don't think that would be a good idea.
No, you thought, it wasn't. But the statement lingered in the air and maybe it was crazy, but it gave you hope. Why wouldn't it be a good idea? Was it that weird of an ask? Were you two that likely to implode if in the same room together again? Like two stars colliding, you thought. One was bound to fizzle out at least.
It's only dinner. Something that friends do.
You stared down at your phone, breath caught.
Maybe another time. Thanks.
Your heart sank and you cursed the way your eyes began to sting with tears. This was dumb.
You didn't need to be crying over a man, one that wouldn't give you a straight answer, no less. If he wasn't interested, it was his loss, not yours.
So, after a day of homework, your favorite comfort movies, and Chinese takeout, you're now on the phone with Trinity, talking about her "relationship" with Garcia and how Park blew you off.
Santos laughed, "He wants that cookie so bad."
You let out a laugh despite yourself, still butt-hurt, "You're disgusting. And no, actually, he doesn't. He quite literally rejected me only a few hours ago."
"I'm being real. And he's just scared that your aunt will maim him. But you're a grown ass woman with almost three degrees. And if you want to fuck the scary ortho surgeon, you should fuck the scary ortho surgeon. He'll come around."
"It wouldn't be just fucking, though," you hopped up on one of the bar stools by the kitchen counter, reminding you of the slowly blossoming bruise on your hip from the night before. "I... I like him. I like him cause I'm an idiot and I don't know how to like normal guys. I have to like 40-year-old surgeons who everyone hates."
"He's not that bad," she relented. "As someone who also can be rough around the edges sometimes, I can tell... It's a coping thing. He'll soften with time. And therapy, honestly."
You softened at the glimpse of vulnerability from your friend, looking down at your feet, "I guess you're right. I love Dana, but she's not going to let this happen. I'm permanently cockblocked here. And he doesn't seem to want anything to do with me after last night."
She hummed in thought, "Want me to come over? I can bring wine."
You hold back a gag. "Don't mention alcohol for five to six business days, please," you groaned. "But that sounds-"
There's a loud knock at your door and you jumped at the sudden sound.
"I'm guessing you need a raincheck," Trinity chuckled as if knowing who it was. She did. She watched him leave work and drive toward your apartment instead of his in the other direction and chose to keep it to herself.
"I'll call you back," you sighed and hung up before walking to the door and opening it to reveal Brendon himself. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
"Hi," he looked down and back up at you.
"I thought you didn't want to come," you frowned, annoyed, arms folded over your chest. "Why are you here?"
"Because I'm a fucking idiot," he whispered.
You frowned and finally let him inside before shutting the door, "Why's that?"
"Because I don't want to hurt you... but I shouldn't be here. Then I got off work, got in my car, and suddenly I was on my way here."
"Because of my aunt?" you raised your eyebrows before rolling your eyes. "I'm not some dumb teenager anymore. Dana means well, but she's overprotective... she feels like she has to be my mom."
He only listened as you spoke, head low. You paused at the tightness in your chest at the mention of family and shook your head. "She's all I got. That's why."
"She loves you."
"I know."
"And she's right," he gazed at you and bit the inside of his cheek. "You're young... and I'm not good for you."
"Why does everyone think they get to tell me what's good for me?" you tilted your chin up, that time to defy him finally coming. "Why can't I fucking decide? Why isn't anyone giving me a choice?"
He stared at you for a moment before leaning back into the wall, letting you have your fun with tempting fate, and him, "Maybe you don't want the right things."
You glanced at his mouth, "Do you have control over that sort of thing?"
"I guess not," he said and his fingers tapped against his scrub clad thigh before sliding into his pockets, eyes washing over you, every plush feature, all rounded edges and soft heat.
He tried to make himself smaller in this moment, but it was near impossible, he was all muscle and broad angular shapes, taking up as much space in your head as he did in a room.
"What a shit deal."
"It is."
"Heh. You're not very comforting. You're lucky I like you." Fuck.
He nodded to himself and gave you a long look, "Why do you think I'm here?"
You stilled, lips parted at the implication. He was so close to you that your chests brushed. You leaned back to meet his eyes up through your lashes.
You spoke lowly, sarcastic, "It's not for my amazing cooking?"
He chuckled, "I already ate."
"So... because you like me too?"
Brendan looked down at you and once again studied every piece his eyes could get ahold of; every expanse of flesh, the soft fabric of your tank and sweats hugging your body, the warmth you emit.
Wordlessly, he hooked a thick finger into the waistband of your sweatpants, pulling you toward him as he leaned against the wall so that every part of you touched.
"Brendon..." you breathed out, hot from his hands on you.
Your eyes locked, his voice dropping an octave, "Yes?"
"Do you... actually want to?" your voice is near silent and thick with the only time you've ever felt fear around him. Fear that he didn't want you like you wanted him.
"That's never been the issue, angel."
Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath at the look on his face.
He dragged a finger down your chest and tugged down the neckline of your tank top to free your breast before dipping down and pressing his mouth against them.
His mouth sucked marks into your skin as his fingers dimpled the sides of your waist to hold you as close as humanly possible, slotting his thigh between your legs as you pushed him further into the wall.
You gasped at the sensation of his tongue and surprisingly soft lips against you. He's gentler than you imagined; reverent in his actions like a man succumbed to prayer. His hand splayed open over your stomach and the other arm around your back. But then his teeth graze you before sinking down and you moaned at the sting, pink mouth agape as he spread out the bites across the valley of flesh.
"Perfect," he muttered into you and you whined, head tilted back. "So perfect, you know that?"
You slid your hands to the sides of his jaw and inched into his hair, nails at his scalp. He decided not to gel it down today, you can tell, it's fluffy to the touch and disheveled so you tug it. He let out a groan into your skin, vibrating against the flesh, and it stirred something primal in you like a dog in heat.
He tilted his chin up to look you in the eye, sleepy but beckoning, a siren song. "You taste sweet."
You smiled down at him and brushed a strand of hair from his eyes, "Is this where the shark thing comes from? A proclivity for biting?"
"No, from my residency. I just wanted to taste you," he admitted and you devoured the morsel of information about him with rapt attention. Even if it was only a small one.
He chewed his lip, nodding to the hall, eyes lust blown, "Now, go to your bedroom."
You smirked, teasing, "Am I in trouble?"
"Do you want to be?" You cracked a smile. "Maybe."
He shook his head and turned you around to smack a hand swiftly against your ass, watching it move from the touch. You yelped and threw him a look before finally listening and walking to your room, his hand in yours behind you to tug him along.
You opened your bedroom door and let yourselves in before he shut it behind him with his foot, leaving the two of you in the dim lighting of your bedroom, all golds and pinks and deep, dark blue.
"Can I tell you something?" you whispered as he walked up to you in front of your bed. He nodded and brushed hair out of your face.
"I've thought about this a lot," you laughed quietly and looked at him and your bed, hardly believing this wasn't a lucid dream or vivid hallucination. "You... in here."
"Show me."
"Now?" your eyes widened.
"Yes, now," he said with a tinge of humor in your voice that made you flush with shame. "I want to watch you how you touch yourself thinking of me."
His question settled deep in your bones and lit a fire at the apex of your thighs, clenching around nothing. The thought of doing that in front of him felt more intimate than the sex itself, to let him in on this part of you.
You sat yourself back down on the foot of your bed and watched him kneel in front of you to your surprise. But he still dwarfed you from the sheer size of him. "I'm... kind of embarrassed. I've never done that in front of anyone before."
He regarded you slowly, hands on your thighs to spread them open, he smiled, "I'll help you. How's that sound?"
So, you nodded and reached in your nightstand drawer for your vibrator, bringing it over while he tugged off your sweats, no panties on under. You leaned back on one hand while the other turned on your toy, cool air hitting your glistening cunt.
"Did you think I was still coming?" he moved to swipe a finger down your already slick folds and you bucked at the contact, gasping. You do as your told and press your vibrator into your clit and you whine, trying to speak.
"N-no, I just-"
"'You just' what?" he mocked and peered up at you, head cocked as he gestured with his other hand for you to continue your ministrations against your clit.
"You just happened to be ready waiting for me?" he spoke low and roughly, making you pulse against the plastic toy. He watched you still with an intensity that made you warm and you threw your head back.
He gently grabbed your chin between his fingers, large hand engulfing your jaw as he pulls you back down to look at him. His fingers pressed into your cheeks just slightly, thumb against your bottom lip. You swiped your tongue against the pad of it and sucked him into your mouth, swirling, so he switches them out. His index and middle finger hitting the back of your throat.
"That's my girl," he cooed as you choked around his fingers. "You take anything I give you because you want it so bad... You think about me sliding my cock into you when you're here alone in your bedroom, little thing. I should make you beg."
You nodded without any thought, whining, and watched as he moved his fingers that were just wrapped around your mouth down to your cunt to slide inside you, immediately clenching around his digits when he pushed them in.
He pumped them in and out of you at a steady pace, just slow enough to make you rut into his palm because you needed more friction, more of him. That's when he stood up and yanked off his shirt, revealing his broad, chiseled chest and torso, because of course, he had a six pack.
Your movements slowed as he untied his pants. He shook his head, "Don't stop. Lay back on the bed until I tell you otherwise."
God, you wanted to fight him on it, but it wasn't as if you didn't want to, only that arguing sounded so fun. Perhaps another time.
You moved back to lay on the bed and took off your tank top, now bare against the covers with your toy still pressed into your cunt, closer to your release now and it made you shiver. He was bigger than you imagined, throbbing out of his boxers that were covered in ocean waves. That made you smile.
"What?"
"The ocean?" you laughed. "Really?"
Brendon climbed over you and abruptly tugged you by your thighs over his shoulders, causing you to shriek at the movement. He blew cold air against your clit, still under the buzzing of your toy.
"Do you want to laugh at me or do you want me to eat your pussy?"
"Why not both?"
"Can't have both, angel."
You mimed a zipper going across your lips and shutting it with a key. He grinned at you and his pearly whites made your chest hurt. You knew in that moment you really did like him. And he wouldn't just be some fling.
Park pressed a kiss to your clit, "Move the toy." You obeyed and he immediately sucked the sore bud between his lips.
"Oh, fuck," you cried and pressed your hands against the back of his head to push him further against you. He licked slowly, taking his time as he devoured your puffy cunt, wishing you weren't as close as you were already so this could last even longer. He squeezed your thighs, nails digging into the soft flesh there, but he didn't want to come up for air, why would he?
Your fingers carded through his dark hair and pulled, earning you a mumbled groan into your cunt. His tongue slid into your wanton hole, clenching, cloying.
"You're close," he said simply and slid a calloused finger back in to accompany his mouth on you. "Come, so I can fuck you properly." You came undone into his mouth at that, almost gushing out.
Brendon looks up at you with your wetness glistening around his mouth and chin. He cracked a smile and you realized this was probably the most happy you've ever seen him. And it made you smile to yourself.
"Come here," you mumbled and gestured for him to crawl up to you.
He, for once, did as he was told and you kissed him for it. It was gentle, more than you expected him to be, in a lot of ways that was what he was. A constant surprise to you. A mystery you're slowly solving.
The kiss roughened quickly on your part, a low moan pouring from you as he bit your lip and tugged, one hand cupping your jaw to angle his mouth to yours. You tasted your sweetness on his mouth and loved it maybe more than you should, this testament to your pleasure physically embedded on his skin.
You kiss for so long you forget where you are, that his cock is leaking pre-cum close to your aching cunt waiting to be filled by him, still raw and sensitive to the touch. You pulled away first for air and his mouth followed after you like two magnets splitting, slick with spit.
His hair was mussed and messy, skin flushed pink, and lips swollen from your own doing. You smiled at the sight of him, for once his composure gone and all done by you. You pressed a finger to his lips to keep his distance.
"I can't wait any longer," you told him as he kissed the corner of your mouth, both impatient. "Need you inside me, baby..."
He gripped his cock in his hand and slid it up and down between your folds, a tease. He kissed your neck, "Leg up, angel."
You hitch your right leg up and around his waist, "I have an IUD... by the way."
"Is that you telling me you want me to come inside?" You nodded, maybe a little to eagerly.
He smiled, "You're so needy, you know that?" He slowly pushed inside you, making you gasp only halfway in.
"Almost there, baby," he sung your praises and held the side of your waist to steady you, mouths finding each other again. "You're taking me so well. Better than I imagined when I'd pump my cock thinking of you... Your fucking body in those dresses you wear. Almost like you wanted me to look." Fuck.
You nodded and dug your fingers into his back, “I did.”
You whined into him as he pushed to the hilt at your confession and you inhaled sharply, relishing in being filled so completely by him. More than anyone ever has.
He whispered by your ear, "Tell me, you think boys your age can fuck you this good?" he slammed into you suddenly, making you clench, and you shook your head, crying out as he hit against your g-spot like he knew you by heart.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer to you as his mouth found a soft spot into your neck where it meets the delicate expanse of your collarbone. You suddenly found yourself thanking that he had such an expansive knowledge of human anatomy.
Park pressed his mouth there and kissed along your skin, undoubtedly marking you all over for the world to see, but you didn't care. He was whispering praises into you, how good you felt, how made for him you were. If those marks could talk, they'd cry his name.
"Fuck," you breathed out. "N-no, no, Brendon, they can't fuck me... They don't. Shit, no one's this good."
"Don't worry, baby," he pushed in and out of you as he snaked a hand down to press firm circles against your clit. "You're mine now. Only I get this fucking pussy. I'm going to take good care of you."
You pulled him up from your neck to press your mouth against his, catching his groan, a slow, languid kiss that made you moan into his mouth. He sighed into you and pulled up your ass against him with his hand on you as your tongue licked a stripe across his lip.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered with a hand on your cheek, unrelenting as he continued to fuck you into the mattress, probably waking every neighbor you had.
"So fucking pretty for me. I bet you come even prettier the second time..."
You clenched your eyes shut as his mouth dragged from your lips to under your jaw, sucking hard with a clash of those sharp canines that brushed your skin.
"You're mine too," you whispered as he pressed harder against your clit and the coil low in your belly threatened to snap soon, more and more intensely.
"Yours," he kissed across your cheeks and back onto your mouth, adoring in his work. "Only yours." You hummed.
That's when it hits you full force, his cock and mouth and fingers unraveling you into a mere puddle beneath his weight as he doesn't stop through both your orgasms. You ride it out as he swallowed your moans, moving against you as he stayed inside you, both of you panting.
He studied you and your blissed out expression. You smiled at him and he found himself returning it, as natural as breathing.
"This is a thing now..." you mused, warm and glowing with joy. You kepy smiling.
He nodded and kissed your temple, "If you want it to be."
"Only if you keep wearing aquatic themed undergarments," you teased. "Or else I walk." He laughed.
Pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Fem! Reader
A/N: you know I had to put another song lyric for the title :))) this is a long one, i loved writing dr. abbot, i feel a bit rusty writing again so bare with me getting in the swing of it again lol but i love me some dr. robby and the new season is perfection, so here you go
Summary: The day shift gets invited to spend the weekend at Dana's lake house. You and Dr. Robby have been hooking up, but no one knows. The two of you are not known for monogamy, you're divorced with a kid and he's as avoidant as they come, yet you both are starting to catch feelings.
Warnings: SMUTTT, situationship, mutual pining, age gap (reader is 30 and Robby is canon age), divorce mentioned, deadbeat ex, degradation and praise, fluff, this is just fun lol, slight angst, depression mentioned, allusions to suicide, drinking, language, emotional hurt! comfort, unprotected sex, p-in-v penetration, fingering, oral fem! receiving, face-sitting
This is the most beautiful house you've ever seen.
It's a three-story cabin on the edge of a lake with its own dock leading out into the water and sleek boat stored right next to it. The front of the first floor is entirely covered in windows, glowing warm, yellow and orange light through the glass and illuminating the low, blue darkness of dusk.
The log cabin style residence dons a wide, wraparound porch with a wooden awning shading the patio, all with a fire pit out front encircled by seating and tables.
"You're rich," you turn to Dana, jaw dropped to the grass below you. "You're rich rich."
Dana grins at you and wraps her arm up around your shoulders. "It's my husband's family lake house, hun. I married 'rich, rich'."
"I know that's right," Princess comes up behind you two and gives Dana a look, Perlah in tow behind her with a little smile.
Mel and Langdon tumble out of his tahoe, Mohan and McKay out of her Ford Explorer, and Santos, Garcia, Whittier, and Javadi out of Garcia's truck. You remember having doubts everyone would fit into one home, you all barely even fit in the ED, but looking at it now, your doubts faded.
You, on the other hand, drove in with Dr. Robby after he offered, rather insisted, last night while in his bed.
Because when was the last time the hospital has a pipe burst and closes for two days? Almost never. Going back Monday is going to be a shit show, and god help Memorial Hospital while you're all gone, but you choose to ignore it and take the days off.
You miss your daughter, Willow, though; you haven't been on many trips since she was born seven years ago. She's with her dad this weekend, your shitty ex, who only gets her every other weekend and days when your mom is busy.
You two are good at co-parenting, never showing any sign or animosity in front of Willow; trying to maintain the picture perfect family. He's with the woman he left you for: successful, Malibu Barbie who was, of course, kind and wonderful in every way. You hated that you actually kind of like her.
It was an hour drive to the lake and you had no idea why he cared so deeply about taking you, but you wanted to throw him a bone.
You had your doubts, since you've been having sex with him in secret for the past three months. And this seemed pretty telling; sharing a car. You figured he asked in the post-sex haze, where bliss is mistaken for certainty.
The drive mostly consisted of his hand on your thigh and talking about how much you both needed this. You didn't want to fool yourself into thinking he really just wanted the pleasure of your company, not when you satisfied other needs for each other. But it felt nice to sit with him, just being.
But he has this desire to feel needed by people, he doesn't often really show others, but you see it in the way he speaks to his friends, trying to make himself indispensable.
You wanted him to know there was more to him than that; what he gives. You give him pieces here and there: protein bars on his desk, assurances when you're both tucked away at work, making his bed when you leave it.
You paid for gas when he wasn't looking earlier instead of the credit card he left you while he was using the bathroom.
You told yourself it was payback for all the drinks and snacks he's gotten you over the year or so you've been in the Pitt with each other. As well as primarily using his apartment for your late nights together, taking his shirts and beers.
Robby throws your duffel bag over his shoulder with his bag in the other. You turn to watch him with a small smirk, "Don't hurt yourself on my account, gramps, I don't need your death on my conscious."
He pretends to drop the duffel bag on your head and you move away from him, stopping yourself from playfully smacking his arm. You've always been horrible at keeping secrets, but both of you knew you didn't want more than someone to see some nights and weekends you don't have your daughter.
If other people knew, the senior resident and chief attending hooking up, it would undoubtedly get messy quickly; rumors of favoritism and sex life bleeding into your work. And your coworkers would make a big thing out of what was nothing to the two of you.
You both knew for a few weeks now that he was leaving for his sabbatical in a month, but neither of you wanted to initiate the conversation of what comes next. This didn't seem like the sort of thing you start up again without getting strings, without admitting you missed it.
You keep telling yourself you won't.
He chuckles, "But you love killing my pride."
You roll your eyes, "You have plenty."
Samira walks up to you and catches the exchange, arching an eyebrow at you with a laugh, "Why'd you ride with him? He's a horrible driver. I've seen him peel out of the parking lot on that bike after almost every shift."
You recall the bumpy drive in his jeep and smile to yourself before pulling your friend into a quick hug, "Hello to you too. My car got messed up. He was just doing me a favor. He lives close to me."
She looks at you skeptically, "I just saw you driving your car yesterday night. It broke down since then?"
"I had a flat tire this morning and everyone said they had already left, so I called him," you cock your head to the side, following her inside the house. "What's with all the questions, officer?"
She shrugs her shoulders, "No reason. I would've come back for you, though, you know that."
"I know, but you've got a lot on your plate. I didn't want to put you out," you lock eyes with Robby as he's unloading drinks in the fridge. You look away, "It was fine."
"Well, I'll take you back Monday and help you replace your tire," she pats you on the back. "I had to teach myself in college, so I should pass on the wisdom before you end up like me stranded outside a concert. And I'm sure you need it for Willow."
"That kid loves you," you smile at her.
"Why do you think I'm friends with you?" she shrugs with a grin. You scoff.
She runs up the stairs to find her allotted bedroom with Dana and your heartstrings tug at your friend's kind offer. And now you and Robby are alone in the kitchen.
He presses his hands against the marble counter and leans toward you from; you stand across from him, arms folded, "Flat tire, huh?"
You scoff, blowing a piece of your hair away from your mouth, "Can you not?"
He looks you over, "I'm just teasing."
"It's never just teasing with you. You enjoy tormenting me," you cut him a look.
"I'll admit I enjoy seeing you riled up, y/n, but it's not for the reasons you think."
You slide your hands down your sundress, but it does little to hide the sweat accumulating from just him looking over you. You clear your throat and feign cluelessness, "And what might those be?"
He cracks a side smile.
That look brings you back.
It was at the bar everyone at the Pitt would go to after work, the older members of the faculty. It was just you, Dana, and Abbot after everyone seemed to be trickling out toward closing time. The three of you were locked in a heated discussion about one of your patients that evening.
"I'm not lying!" you threw your hands up, trying to speak through your giggles, clearly falling victim to the one or two or four cocktails you had. "I swear to god, that's what he told me!"
"He told us he fell off a Harley after getting chased by the police!" Abbot scoffed.
Dana smiles, "Well, it explained the gnarly road rash down his arm and leg."
"And you're telling me he actually fell off his e-scooter?" Robby clutched his chest as the laughter made it ache. "Going down a fucking hill?"
You tossed your head back at the mental image of this poor man tumbling down a concrete sidewalk. Maybe it made you bad doctors to laugh at a patient's suffering, but he was an asshole, to be fair, and would not stop hitting on you, despite your respectful protests. All of you are out of breath imagining that poser fall and everyone watching him lie to Robby: an actual motorcycle owner. He saw right through him, but chose to ignore it. Until now.
"Okay," Dana wiped tears away from her eyes and grinned. "I think that's my cue to go. Benji will wonder where I've been. Goodnight, crazy kids."
"I'll walk you out," Abbot followed after her and pushed in both of their chairs. Both of them left you and Robby at the table, nursing your drinks and listening to the jukebox play "The Smiths."
"And then there were two," Robby sipped his beer.
"Funny," you chuckled. "This hardly ever happens."
"What's that?" he laughed.
"Us being alone together..." you ignored every warning siren going off in your head. "Seems like it never happens because you avoid me."
He regarded you slowly, taken aback, and leaned forward. "I don't avoid you, y/n. You really think that?"
You nodded and put your drink's cherry into your mouth. "I think you avoid me because you find me attractive."
Robby nearly choked on his drink and swallowed thickly, "I-"
"You don't?" you cocked your head to the side. He watched you, captivated, and flushed at the accusation.
A beat passed between you two as both your gazes bored into each others. Those same eyes flit down to your lips and he inhaled sharply. He'd been tense all day in the that patient with road rash's room who was unabashedly flirting with you for hours. He'd been watching you at work for months and trying his best to ignore how sexy he thought you were, how distracting you were. He wanted to be the one to take you home. Not that fucking guy. Nothing more.
He finished off his beer. "I'm your attending."
"So?" you arched an eyebrow and look down at his mouth.
"And what if I did?" his eye grew soft. "Find you sexy."
You smiled, "I said attractive."
"Same difference," he flashed that same sly smile.
"Then I'd want you to do something about it." You knew you wanted him, from the moment you met him you wondered what it would feel like to be touched by him, kissed, undone by those large hands. You hoped you didn't just ruin everything, and gotten it wrong or put your job in jeopardy-
Robby looked you over and interrupted your thoughts, "Really?"
"Really."
You two had barely made it to the parking lot, a flurry of hands and lips and tongue. It was sloppy and liquor tinged in the backseat of your car; handprints on car windows and all as you rode him against leather with his face in your neck, whispering how good you felt.
That was the end of March and now it's June. And it's all it's been since then.
Everyone else finally files inside and drops their things at the door, an onslaught of laughter, conversation, and hollers. You clear your throat, hoping to clear the memory along with it, and the questions that linger with the thought: what happens when you're both done? Will friendship be possible anymore?
Langdon immediately slips off his muscle tank and tosses it on the dining table, "WOO! Who wants to go swimming?" You roll your eyes at him.
"Jesus, Frank," Dana comes down the stairs at the commotion, "I'm gone five minutes and suddenly you're stripping in my kitchen! Have some decorum!"
He mumbles apologies as he retrieves his shirt amidst everyone laughing at him. And after everyone moves their things to the rooms Dana's assigned to them, you all follow Langdon's lead outside, readying for a swim in the lake with the sun beating down on you, making skin flush with heat and the blue water delighting cool where it touches.
Robby stands and watches from the porch as his colleagues and friends whoop and run into the water, jumping off the dock; feeling free for the first time in a long time. T
he sight made his chest hurt with nostalgia for the moment playing out in front of him, like this would be something to hold onto later. He doesn't often feel like this, but when he looks at you, he has an idea why.
You look at him over your shoulder from the dock, eyes burning into his. You smile and untie the back of your sundress so it falls in a puddle at your feet. His eyes never leave you and the little show you're putting on. You stretch your arms up together, so he sees all of you in your black bikini, hugging parts of you perfectly while you're on display.
He leans against the wooden railing of the porch and subtly motions you to spin for him with his index finger.
You furrow your brow and scoff in response before diving into the lake.
You pop up out of the water near Perlah and Princess, already on their blow up floats, nursing canned margaritas. They tip their drinks toward you.
"Ladies," you grin at them and slick your hair back. "You two look comfortable."
"I feel like I'm on 'Love Island' right now," Princess beams, nestling into her headrest and adjusting her shades. "If only I had a bombshell here with me..."
You laugh, "You and me both."
McKay waves you over to the group everyone's formed over by a rock formation in the lake, sitting atop them. Langdon is stretched out like Princess Ariel sunbathing, Santos and Garcia are chatting while treading water, Whittaker and Javadi are splashing around, and McKay is dangling her legs off a rock, holding a non-alcoholic ginger beer.
She plucks a Corona from the cooler she's set next to her, "I swam with this cooler out here above my head, so you have to take one."
You grin and pluck it from her fingers, opening it against the jagged stone, "For your troubles, then."
She smiles around the rim of her bottle, "How's Willow? She with Ricky this weekend?"
"The very same," you sip your drink. "They're going to his parents house. They have a pool... they're nice-"
"They love you more than Jessica, don't they?"
You grin conspiratorially, "His mom still calls me once a week."
She laughs, "Chad's parents do it too."
"Chloe seems like a piece of work," you raise your eyebrows. "I don't envy you."
"Don't get me started," she rolls her eyes. "What about you? Your love life any better than what my ex has going on?"
"Uh, well..." you glance quickly at Robby on the porch talking to Dana and laughing, arms folded over his burly form. Your mind drifts to a couple nights ago when those same arms were holding you against his apartment door, because you both didn't want to wait for the bedroom.
You look away before she can follow where your eyes lead.
"You're blushing!" she gasps. "You never blush. You're seeing somebody."
"No, I'm just... I don't know," you shrug your shoulders and down the rest of your drink. "It's something casual, that's all. It won't last." You knew Cassie would see right through you eventually and ask about your dating life, but you hope this would satiate her, this small morsel of information.
"Hell yeah!" Santos raises her fist in the air, making a splash.
You roll your eyes, "Stop eavesdropping, Santos!"
She tuts you, leaning her head on Garcia's shoulder, "It's not eavesdropping if you're both right there and loud as fuck."
You scrunch your nose in your friend's direction and lean against one of the rocks, feeling the heat of the stone warm up your back dripping with cold water.
Robby's eyes are watching you from the porch while Dana's preoccupied with cleaning up inside, tidying.
The curves of your body, the soft, plush places he knows now by heart, the way your back arches and head falls when you laugh at something Garcia says with a beer in your hand. Your smile rivals the sun beating down on you, his own source of light.
Something sharp twists in his stomach at that thought. You being a source of something for him, fulfilling more than what you two have agreed upon; strictly sex with no feelings or possibility of a relationship. You didn't have the time or energy and didn't want to risk bringing various partners around for the sake of your daughter; she was your world and nothing more.
Robby, on the other hand, is exactly what everyone says he is. The seven-week expiration date. The chronic avoidant. The adrenaline-chaser. The two of you have been going at it like this for three months, though, five weeks more than his usual.
That fact wasn't lost on either of you. But it instead just existed quietly between you both without acknowledgment.
He remembers the night you two came up with this little arrangement very vividly.
You two were laying in your bed together. Robby had one arm wrapped around your shoulders while he read his book, and you worked on your laptop. This only happened every so often when the two of you were in that sleepy afterglow, where you wanted to write and he wanted to read, but you were too tired to go to your own places.
This was after a particularly long and grueling day, when you two needed each other more than you let on. He just wordlessly came over after leaving his shift and you had just dropped Willow off with her father. You opened the door and he practically fell into you.
After taking a shower together, you two were in your own little world in your bed, waiting for the other to break the silence and acknowledge what this was: this in-between. That it's been a month now of nights like this with little to no answers as to what this was. It felt too good to matter.
"So..." he peered at you over his glasses. You told him you thought he looked sexy in them, so he made a point of wearing them around you more often.
"So?" you asked, not looking up from your writing.
"You're gonna make me say it?"
You laughed, "I don't know what you're talking about, so I can't say it, can I?"
"Y/n..."
"Robby...?"
He cracked a tired smile, "You're so annoying."
"And you think you're whole 'goading me into saying what we are' speech isn't?"
He pulled his glasses off and scoffed, "So, you do know what I'm trying to say?"
"Yes, I do," you shut your laptop. "I'm not a teenager."
"I know you're not... I just don't know how to talk about this," he closed his book, leaving two fingers between the pages to mark his spot. He took note of how your eyes lingered there.
"We don't have to define this," you looked at him in a way you hoped gave him an out from this conversation. Gave you an out, too.
"Believe me," he pulled you closer to sit on his lap, one arm wrapped around your waist. "I like what we have. But we work together and that makes it complicated... especially because I'm chief attending and you're-"
You tilted your head to the side and squinted, "Just a lowly, little senior resident?"
He playfully smacked your ass and you pushed on his chest before he gently grabbed your hand and held it in his, "I just think we should set some ground rules."
You searched his face, eyes narrowed, "Okay... like what?"
"Like... we don't tell anyone," he absentmindedly traced a line down your underarm while he spoke. "You know how they'll be and it's just better-"
"Fine by me," you replied quickly. "No sleepovers when my daughters at my place."
"Agreed. And we don't let it bleed into work."
You nodded, "And not that I see it happening, but if we start to... develop feelings-"
"We say something and stop. Because we both don't want more," he tested the waters. "Right?" It became more of a question for the both of you.
He remembered seeing something flicker across your face and hoping you'd say something, verbalize that small crack in that easy, cool facade of yours. You made him feel so helpless, but you always looked so on top of everything; never faltering. It was both deeply grounding but also so profoundly frustrating.
"Right, and we stay friends whatever happens."
He pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. "Sounds like a plan."
You put his face in your hands. "Now, that that's done. Put the glasses back on."
He grinned and did as he was told, "Yes m'am." And then you moved to kiss down his chest.
"Lost in thought there, Dr. Robby?" Dana laughs at the state of her friend.
He looks down with a chuckle but internally cringes at the mention of his professional title, "Don't remind me of what we're going back to after this weekend."
"Don't worry... you'll be gone in a month on your trip."
He scoffs, "Yeah..."
Her eyebrows raise. "You are going on your sabbatical, aren't you, Motorcycle Mike?"
He frowns at the nickname and the lapse in memory, rubbing a hand down his face.
She pinches her brow as she studies him, the way he fidgets, "Are you having second thoughts?"
He glances at you swimming back to shore, then shakes his head, voice quiet, "I'm uh... I'm not going anymore."
She shakes her head and smirks, "I fuckin' knew it."
He sighs with a small, downturned smile, "Believe me, I would normally never let you get to say 'I told you so. But things have changed, I'm doing better."
"I definitely see that," she says. "Have you told anyone?"
"Not everyone. Just Gloria and the higher up's. Al-Hashimi's staying on as an attending and I'll remain as chief. But maybe it'll mean I get more breaks from time to time."
She follows his eyes to where he's looking in the water, nodding solemnly, "What's changed?"
He shrugs and leans against the railing for a moment, "I'm not running from anything anymore."
"Proud of you," she smiles. "We'll talk later."
"Thanks for not giving me too much shit about it," he tilts his head.
She pats his arm, "I will later. There's lemonade and snacks inside, when you're ready to come in," she says while heading to the kitchen.
Robby yells over his shoulder, "Look at you being a good hostess!"
"Don't go around telling everyone at work that, I don't wanna make a habit of it!" He grins.
You walk up the rocky shore with your colleagues in tow, wringing out your wet hair in your hands. He lets his eyes unabashedly wash over you while everyone's talking and distracted. He swallows thickly and pulls his gaze away from you when you look his way while wrapping a beach towel around your waist. You smile to yourself.
Every time he looked at you, he can't believe you two have been doing this; that you want him, when you could have anyone you wanted. This young, successful, beautiful and elusive doctor and mother.
Dana interrupts his racing thoughts with a loud warning inside, "If you guys warp my floorboards with lake water, I'll kill ya!"
Robby catches your wrist gently after everyone's gone in and whispers, "I'll be in your room in five minutes."
You look him up and down, subtly lifting an eyebrow, "Robby, we're with literally everybody we're hiding this from."
He chews the inside of his cheek and makes it clear in his expression that he doesn't care about the risks at the moment, "You can't spare ten minutes?"
You get sucked into his orbit without even trying. It isn't that you don't want to, but rather, you knew how complicated this is.
You can't afford to not think of the consequences, especially as it became more increasingly obvious to yourself that this was becoming more than just meaningless sex. Even McKay saw it in your face earlier that you were sleeping with someone of note, someone that put that warmth in your face.
But of course, when did that ever stop the two of you?
He's untying your bikini top and the towel around your waist the second he steps into the room, pressing you into the wall. His mouth drags down your collarbone, squeezing your breasts in his rough, calloused hands. Your skin lights up wherever his lips follow, a match dropped on a trail of gunpowder.
His other hand reaches down to slip into your bikini bottoms to circle his index finger against your clit. You inhale sharply.
"Already so ready for me," he teases at the slickness between your thighs, punctuating each word with a flick of his thumb in the way he knows you like. "Knew you would be."
You stifle a whimper and lean back, "Shut up... You're so full of yourself."
He looks at your mouth, amused, "I thought you liked when I talked you through it."
You narrow your eyes at him, but his voice shoot sparks up and down your spine.
“How convenient that I’m almost naked and you’re fully dressed… seems unfair,” you run a hand under his shirt and press your hands onto his soft stomach, relishing in his warmth against your cold skin.
He shudders at your touch and groans, “It was most certainly not convenient seeing you in this bikini and having to hide how hard I was around all our colleagues…”
You hook your fingers around his belt loops and tug him closer, “Not my problem.”
His movements roughen at your tone and he raises his hand to cover your mouth just as you let out an almost shriek against it. You playfully bite at his skin and he breaks into a shark-like grin; hungry.
“Shh baby, come for me,” he curls his fingers inside you with a thumb against your clit and you wantonly rut into his hand, “I know you can… just need one to get me through the day.”
Baby. Fuck, now he’s calling you baby. This is the first time you’ve ventured into this territory: pet names. It felt so intimate and past that threshold bordering on romantic. You two barely even kissed anywhere above the jaw.
But, still, it unravels you completely, breaking you apart into bite-sized pieces that he ravenously consumes. Your muffled moans vibrate against his palm as you finish onto him and he nods along. He unlatches his hand from your mouth and watches your blissed out expression while he coaxes you through the remnants of your orgasm.
You and Robby lock eyes for a long heated moment; your lips parted and panting and his mouth covered in spit. Your chest heaves with each strenuous breath as he ties your bikini top back on and presses a kiss to the nape of your neck when he's done.
His voice is low and warm, studying your face, "You're so beautiful."
Your throat clenches at the way he says it, reverently like a prayer. It gnaws away at you and you can't help but frown slightly at the words, before correcting yourself. Suddenly, you know it so deeply in you that you love him. You don't want him to go.
"You're not so bad yourself," you muster a small smile, knowing your rule is officially broken. He's leaving in a few weeks, anyway, he would go and the feelings would follow him. You could move on, then.
He presses a kiss under the inside of your jaw and puts his hands on the sides of your waist; the safety of his touch is earth-shattering, it's both steadying and debilitating, a deep, rooted tree in a windstorm.
"I'm glad we started this..." he slides his hands up and down and tilts his head. "You're fun. You're sexy... you're cool. I like it like this, with you."
Like this. The words spearhead the center of your chest and spreads as if injected into your bloodstream. That's all this is to him, it's what you agreed to, and you foolishly let yourself believe it could maybe, one day, be more. That he would share your feelings, that he wanted more from you. You lightly press against his chest to pull away from him.
His eyes fall over your expression, your briefly glassy, widened eyes. He opens his mouth.
You clear your throat and bend down to pick up your towel to wrap it around yourself, "You should go... Before someone sees you. I need to shower."
Robby pinches his eyebrows together, "Alright, you okay?"
"I'm fine," you slip past him. "I'll see you downstairs."
He starts to speak again, to ask something else before you shut down the conversation with a swift slam of your bathroom door.
Robby walks out into the hallway and runs a hand down his face, sighing hard. There’s that ringing in his ears again when he knows something’s off, paranoia and anxiety rearing its ugly head at the solemn look on your face just now.
He hates to admit how well he's come to know you and how every little thing you do has begun to affect his day, his mood, his thoughts. In spite of the rules to prevent this very thing, he's let you burrow into his heart with no sign of relief. You were the one who wanted this, and you made it clear on not letting him in. How do you even begin to say this sort of thing? You control every aspect of him with deft and gentle hands and you don't even know it.
Someone taps his shoulder and he turns, startled.
"Shit," he mutters.
Dana stares back at him and shakes her head, scoffing, “You’re so predictable, Robinavitch.”
~~~
"I already told you I'm not going to tell anyone," Dana whispers to Robby while pouring herself a glass of wine. "I think you're making a mistake though."
He sighs, exhausted from the insomnia this "getaway" has brought him, and grabs a beer from the fridge, "All due respect, Dana, I don't really want advice about my love life right now. You're the last person I wanted to find out."
"Honey, I already knew. And suddenly, it's your love life?" she arches an eyebrow and takes a small sip. "I thought you two were just hooking up?"
His face reddens, "You knew?"
She points at him with her glass, "Answer the question."
"You fucking knew?!" She rolls her eyes.
Robby whips his head to search for listening ears and sees everyone's outside around the fire, busying themselves with conversation.
He clears his throat and his voice goes quiet when he leans forward, "How the hell did you know? Did she tell you?"
"Please. I have eyes and you two aren't as slick as you think you are," she scoffs, offended. "And nothing happens in that ER without me knowing about it."
But yes, you did tell her.
A few days after you and Robby had the talk, she saw you two sneak off from you all's usual bar outing after your shift. You thought everyone went home, but Dana was still outside, smoking a cigarette when she caught you two kissing by his bike.
Robby had to run back because he left his keys inside and that's when you saw Dana with that damned smirk on her face, acting coy.
You walked up quickly to her, pleading, "Please don't tell anyone, Dana, I beg you. We thought you had left already. It's just a stupid thing, we're sleeping with each other, we're not dating. It's dumb and I don't want-"
"Kid, kid," she grabbed the sides of your arms and told you to take deep breaths. "I'm not gonna say anything. I can keep a secret, okay?"
"Thank god," you sighed. "Sorry, I just don't need everyone in my business. It's already so complicated."
She smiled, "Well, I'm here for you, you know? I know him well, and... just be careful."
You knew what she was saying without the words needing to be uttered and it stirred you, but you only nodded at the time, "Thanks, Dana."
"And... don't tell him I know," she laughed and took a drag of her cigarette. "I like having the upper hand."
"My ER," he corrects with an amused lilt to his whisper.
She sets down her glass and shakes her head. "Robby, I see the way you two look at each other. On and off the clock. So, I'm gonna guess that's why you didn't want me to know."
"What does that mean?"
"Because I know you! And you don't want to know the truth. This-" she points to him and to where you sit outside. "-is different. It's not just some fling."
He frowns, the push and pull of his feelings for you evident on his face, "Dana, it can't be more. I'm her superior and what we're doing now is already risky. Also she's made it clear she doesn't want a relationship."
"You don't know that. And what about you? What do you do want?"
"I..." he blinks hard. "I want her, and I'm willing to do anything to make that possible. If she wants it."
She rests her hand up on his shoulder and softens her voice, earnest, "Then you two will figure it out. Fuck Gloria."
He laughs, sadness brimming at the edges of the sound, "She probably heard that."
She gestures flippantly with a sigh and heads to the door, grinning. "Well, she can bring it on, I can take her."
Robby leans against the counter as he considers what Dana said, one of his oldest friends, someone who unfortunately knows him very well, despite his best efforts. His fingers tap against the marble while he watches everyone talk; an open chair left for him sitting by you.
You're curled up under a white, fuzzy blanket in your chair, nursing a white wine with a soft smile on your face as you try to ignore Langdon's bitching about you beating him at pool, not once but twice. There's a warm glow over the lake as the sun has set and left a purple haze in the sky, stars glistening over all of you.
All paired with the delightful heat and crackling of your campfire that Javadi, Whittaker, and Santos take advantage of to make s'mores.
Your head plays his words over and over again, circling and swirling in your stomach. Like this. He likes you in "this" way, where you two are at a distance and just having a good time. But it hasn't stopped the two of you from knowing each other intimately; how you both want your coffees in the morning, childhood stories, your routines, both of your facial expressions and every feeling attached to them.
You read him like a book, you went against what you promised yourself; you're replaying things he says in your head and desiring more of him.
Robby finally walks outside and joins you in the chair next to you. Your entire body lights up at his presence and you share a quick, fleeting look before returning to your respective drinks.
"This is nice," McKay says next to you with a relieved sigh. "I fucking needed it, I've been exhausted."
You glance at Robby and look away, "Yeah, me too. I miss Willow, though."
"I get it, I miss Harrison, too... what about the person you're sleeping with, though?" she wiggles her eyebrows and sips her soda. "Don't you miss them?"
Robby sucks in a breath, trying not to choke on his beer as he gulps it down to distract his racing mind. Did you tell her?
"I told you I was just having casual fun," you roll your eyes and flush at everyone's eyes on you now; heat blooming in your face and down your neck and chest. You finish your wine.
Mohan leans over to pour you more, "Seemed like it was of note."
You chuckle, attempting to mask your nervousness with a laugh, "Maybe it was, but I uh... I told you it's not serious."
Robby openly stares at you, practically burning holes into the side of your head with that look. It was serious? What did that even mean?
McKay clocks him with a sideways glance and her mouth falls open slightly; gears actively turning.
"So you wouldn't be opposed to me... setting you up with my friend, Kit?" she tows the line and you narrow your eyes at her, suspicious. "I know you don't really date like that, but I figured you two would hit it off. He's cute, he's a dentist with money-"
You laugh, "I don't know, Cassie. I haven't really been set up on a date before."
You turn to look at Robby who's white knuckling his beer bottle, doing one of his tight-lipped smiles you know all too well, just as you do the rest of him. He's leaned back with his legs spread open, head cocked as he listens to your conversation.
"You wouldn't like it," Robby says, trying his best to sound casual, as if he was just a friend giving you advice.
You chuckle, "Really? Why's that?"
"I'm just saying," he shrugs. "It doesn't seem like your thing, like you said, you're more into casual."
You nod, silent for a beat, and lock eyes with him, "You know what, on second thought, maybe give him my number, Cassie. No harm in that, right?" McKay smiles.
"But what do I know? I'm sure you two will have a great time," Robby raises his eyebrows and takes a swig.
You turn to him and flash a short, sweet smile, humming in agreement.
McKay and Mohan share a look, eyes wide.
Dana just laughs to herself with everyone else oblivious in their own little worlds, thankfully.
The collateral from this thing with Robby has already been too great, at least it could be your closest friends. You can't help but feel like you betrayed them by keeping this a secret, not that it was anyone's business really, but you usually told them everything going on with you and vice-versa.
The way they are looking at you now though, it isn't anger, but rather intrigue. And because they care, they choose to ask you about this at a later time, returning to their own conversation.
"Why were you being weird?" you say only quiet enough for him to hear.
He scoffs, "I wasn't being weird. You're not going to go on that date, I know you. You just said yes because you wanted to prove me wrong."
"You just always squeeze your hands that tightly?"
He looks around to make sure the group is distracted before whispering to you, "Y/n, where is this coming from?"
"Nowhere. I'm cool," you cast a glance at him and sip your drink. "I'm so cool. You're leaving in a month and I'm nowhere."
"I'm not going anymore, y/n," he whispers. He doesn't look at you again, staring sidelong at the lake.
Your breath catches. "What, why?"
"I just don't want to anymore," he meets your eyes; his are pleading in a way that makes your chest ache for something you've never been able to describe, wordlessly asking you to drop it. He takes a swig of his beer.
Your heartbeat quickens, the withholding of it trumping your excitement for him to stay. "Does anyone know?"
He shakes his head, but corrects himself with a sigh, "Just Dana and Gloria."
"Why didn't you want to tell me?"
"I... don't know. I wanted to, but I haven't really wanted to say anything to-"
"Sorry, guys," you stand up and try to compose yourself, keeping the tears at bay. "I'm starting to not feel very well-"
Robby frowns, big brown eyes glistening, "Y/n-"
Langdon moves to follow you, "Do you need anything?"
"No, no," you shake your head. "I'll be fine. I just need to sleep, I think. You guys have a fun night, I'm going to turn in, and catch up on sleep."
You walk toward the porch and Robby watches after you, intending to get up, rules be damned, and run to you inside. Dana looks at him and subtly shakes her head. Don't.
~~~
Now it's hours later at 1 a.m. and your bare feet are padding down the stairs in your t-shirt and plaid boxers, headed for the fridge to get ice cream because you can't sleep. All you can think about is Robby.
He's wedged himself inside your chest and splintered and now you've succumbed to the cliche of catching feelings. It was a trope for a reason, you think, and more annoying than you expected.
Because what happens now? You can't go on as is, but you can't let him go. And now he's staying, which means your plan of forced moving on is shot. It just leaves you with actually telling him.
You pull out the pint of cookie dough ice cream from the freezer Dana let you in on earlier with a post-it note on top.
"For y/n, my favorite ice cream for my favorite resident."
You smile to yourself and reach for a spoon when your phone rings. A name appears on your phone, Richard.
Your heart drops at the worst case scenarios running through your head at the sight of his phone call, that something was horribly wrong. Why else would he be calling in the middle of the night?
"Hey," you say hurriedly, pulling your phone close to your ear. "What's wrong? Did something-"
A sleepy and quiet voice speaks up on the other line, "Hey, Momma."
You soften at the sound of your daughter's voice, "Willow. Sweetheart. What's happened? Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"I had a nightmare," she yawns. "You're better at helping than Dad... with this."
"Does he know you're calling?"
"I know his password," she giggles. You can't help but share in it, also impressed at her sneakiness. Pulling yourself up on the counter, you sit down and cross your legs.
"Of course you can always call me, honey, but you do need to go back to bed soon. What was your nightmare about?"
She quiet a moment, "It's dumb."
"Will, I'm sure it's not. You can tell me."
"It was that... that you never came back. After this weekend. And I never see you again," she sniffs. "I was scared it was real."
You frown and are almost brought to tears at the thought, of your little girl being afraid she'll lose you. "Honey. That would never happen. I promise you, I will always find my way home to you."
You look up and see Robby coming down the stairs, sporting a white tee-shirt, his gold chain, and gray sweatpants; hair and beard mussed. You clutch your phone tighter at the sight of him.
"You promise?" her voice breaks.
"Of course I do. I'll be back tomorrow and we'll eat pizza in our pajamas and watch dinosaur documentaries until we pass out. How's that sound?"
She lights up, "I love dinosaurs."
"I know you do," you laugh and Robby watches you as he pour himself a cup of water, smiling to himself.
She yawns again, "Are you having fun with your friends?"
"Yes," you grin at the thoughtful question, heart swelling. "They're all asking about you."
"Tell them I said hi! Oh, and especially Dr. Robby, cause he owes me candy."
You look up at Robby standing against the fridge, "Does he now?" He mouths to you, intrigued, What did she say about me?
Maybe it was a bad idea, a breach of something, but you click the speaker button and hold the phone out, "You can tell him yourself. He's here right now."
He grins, alight, moving closer to stand in front of you and his legs brush against your knees. "Hey, Will. What are you doing awake?"
"You owe me candy," she says, cutting right to the chase. You smirk proudly and eat another spoonful. "You told me you'd give me Reese's if I guessed all the parts of the brain and you haven't yet."
Robby chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets, "I'll pay up when I see you next, okay? I swear. A pinky promise is serious business to me."
You gasp, "Honey, that's amazing, how did you know that?"
"I listen when you study!" You beam.
"Future doctor," he whispers to you. You smile, "If she wants to be, she's definitely got a chance."
"I'm gonna go to bed now, Momma," she interrupts.
"Okay," you laugh. "I love you." "I love you, too! Bye, Dr. Robby!"
He leans down, "Bye, Will." You look at him and your chest squeezes. No man in your life has ever really met
"She okay?" he asks quietly.
You nod, "She gets nightmares sometimes and she usually comes to me."
"I get them too," he admits in the silent room, only illuminated by the moon through the windows and the soft hum of the refrigerator.
Your brows tug low, the confession making your chest hurt. Before you can say anything in response, he takes your spoon to dig into the pin to eat some. You rip it back from him.
He cracks a small smile, "You're a good mom."
You look up briefly and blink in surprise at the compliment, unsure, "Thank you."
"Does she know-" he takes another bite after you get a scoop for yourself. You frown. "-about you and me?"
"What's there to say?"
He runs his tongue over his bottom lip to clear the remaining dessert. Your eyes follow.
The two of you sit in silence for a long time. In reality, it's probably only a few seconds, but as it passes and the air gets heavier, it weighs on you like a hand pushing into your chest, making it hard to breathe.
He hums lowly, tentative, "Can we talk?"
"...About?"
His voice is stern, "Y/n, please."
You hop down from the counter and stand in front of him, "It's fine. We're good."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," he reaches to put a hand on your thigh, like he usually does, but pulls away. Your skin burns like missing a phantom limb.
"I don't care, Robby. We're just friends, right?" you look up at him, propping yourself up with your hands behind you. "Not close enough for news like this, but close enough to see each other naked. So, let's just-"
"I'm not going... and it has a lot to do with you," his voice is thick with emotion as he begins to ramble.
"I didn't know how to say it. I didn't know how to tell anyone. I only told Dana this morning because she knows everything already and I wanted it to be you. Because of course it's you."
Your whole body lights up, "What... what do you mean?"
He slides down to his knees and presses his head against your belly and you ache. "That I'm sorry. I wanted to go to get away from everything. I was fucking drowning. I-I... I didn't know if I even wanted to come back."
Your eyes fill with hot tears at the state of him and you run your fingers through his hair and hold his face in your hands. This powerful man is kneeling at your feet and baring his soul to you because he needs you. The gnawing thought dawned on you that he hardly ever needed anyone. His almost sabbatical could have been the last time you ever saw him again; the implications of what he was saying sent your heart to the pit of your stomach. That he was that low.
You move down to your knees to meet him where he's at and wrap your arms around him. Neither of you were big on hugging but his big brown eyes screamed for comfort. He tensed at first when you pulled him closer but he quickly melted into you, succumbing to the warm embrace.
His arms encircle you back and you're squeezed against each other as if trying to become one, soak up one another's sadness to pour it away. You feel the rapid rhythm of his heart lull into a quiet, soft and slow beat as you rub your hand rub up and down between his shoulder blades. You quietly tell him you're sorry too, and he shakes his head softly.
His face falls to the crook of your neck and his beard and mouth tickle your skin but you welcome the heat when he presses further into you. One of your hands rests against the back of his head and stroke his hair, he sighs.
"I'm so glad you stayed," you whisper.
He hums, "I'm never leaving you. And I'm not good at this sort of thing," he says and resurfaces to wipe a tear from under your eye. "But I want to be. I want to do it with you."
"Michael..." And you realize that's one of the first times you've ever said his first name. Hardly anyone ever does.
His eyes are all over your face, wide and full of hope. He speaks quietly, "Is that you saying you want it too?"
"Of course I want it. But how does this work?"
"We'll figure it out when we get back tomorrow," he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. "We'll go to HR and make it official. It'll be fine, I promise."
"You have to promise you'll come to me about this sort of thing next time, when you get that low," you clutch at his hand. "If this is ever going to work, we have to let each other in more."
He nods and pulls you closer, "I promise." His mouth finds the corner of your lips and presses a soft kiss there, sending shocks through your skin.
Reverently, you hold the sides of his face in your hands as you kiss his cheek, his eyelids, his nose bridge. It disolves into a frenzy of hands as he tugs you toward him and catches your mouth with his own, kissing you deeply with a hand tethered to the back of your neck.
You realize then how out of breath you already are from holding it in your proximity to him, how your gasping in the embrace on this kitchen floor, tangled in his legs. The sweetness of the kiss surprises you, and rather than takes you apart, it softens out the shape of what's already there, rounding out the edges of the warmth between your bodies.
His hands slide down to grip your waist, "Bedroom?"
"God, yes."
He cracks a small, grateful smile and lifts you up with a small grunt.
"Am I that heavy?" you tease against his chest as he carries you up the stairs as quietly as he can.
"Of course not," he kisses the top of your head. "I'm just old."
You laugh as he ducks into his room, conveniently placed at the end of a long hallway and away from others. You thank whoever designed the layout of this home silently in your head.
Robby carefully places you back on the ground and you begin to walk him back into the bed, until the back of his knees hit the frame and he falls to a sitting position against the mattress. He looks up at you like you hung the moon when he holds you to him.
You take a minute to drink in the state of him: his pink, kiss-flushed mouth, messy hair, and lust blown eyes. His mouth finds your chest from where you stand in front of him and he kisses across the expanses of your breasts, drawing up your neck in the way he's memorized you like.
"You're not seeing anybody right now, right?" he breathes into your skin and makes quick work of your clothes. "We never said we were exclusive and I want to make-"
"No," you interrupt while you card your fingers through his hair. "I haven't been since before you... what about you?" You slip your shirt off, leaving on your shorts.
He shakes his head and the excitement of his confession stirs something primal in your belly. He tosses his shirt off and slides down his sweatpants to kick them off from around his ankles.
You smile, "So I've tied down the great Michael Robinavitch, huh?"
He half laughs, "I like when you say my name."
"Michael... Michael... Michael..." you say, punctuating the word with your mouth pressing down his neck as you move him to lay down on the bed. He chuckles but it comes out faint at the distraction of your hands and mouth on him.
"I want you to sit on my face, sweetheart," he says hoarsely and you feel yourself ache at the mere suggestion. It was a new ask from him, but it had you already pulling down your bottoms.
"And if you suffocate?" you tease.
"I won't," he gestures you up to him. "Come here."
You crawl up to just below his chin and he pulls you along, impatient.
He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, soft, "Ready?" You could stand to see more of Robby at his gentlest. The tenderness suits him. You nod in response.
HIs hands latch onto your hips as he sets you down against his warm mouth and he buries his face in your pussy. You stifle a gasp at the contact against your sensitive skin, sliding up and down his face for more of him. He's already rutting against nothing below you and desperate for friction at the hard-on in his boxers.
You have to bite down on your lip at the way he’s splitting you with his tongue, focusing on your swollen clit. He has the benefit of knowing your body intimately well, how well he knows each noise you make and what it means, reading your body language before you even do.
"I love this pussy," he hums against you and it makes you clench around his tongue. "I think about it every second. I think about burying myself in you for hours and never letting you out."
His words make your eyes clench shut. When you tug at the ends of his hair, he groans into you, the noises fueling the coil in your gut, begging it to tighten and snap. He sucks hard and you let out a quiet, barely stifled moan at the feeling. He holds you down against his mouth with fingers digging into your soft flesh.
"That's it," he whispers. "Need you to fuck my face. Need you to get yourself off on only my mouth."
"Fuck, Michael," you swallow thickly and keep your voice low. "I- It's coming so fast." You swear when you spare a glance at him you see him smirk.
Your orgasm washes over you immediately, the pressure bursting through every neuron, his name stuck silently on your lips as you have to keep quiet.
You're jelly in his hands as he brings you down to sit in his lap, his boxers down on the ground now. He rubs his cock up between your swollen folds and you gasp again at the pressure. You melt into him, arms wrapped around his neck while he holds you close, while you taste yourself in his kiss.
He groans, head falling into the crook that meets between your neck and shoulder, “Can you give me another? I need to be inside you.”
"Yes," you nod. "Please. I need it. I need you."
“Fuck, y/n, ” he says, your name wrapped in velvet and warmth. "I need you like I've never needed anything..."
You caress his cheek with your thumb and kiss him slowly, so agonizingly consuming. Unlike the other times you've spent wrapped in his arms, the two of you are now taking your time, knowing this has no chance of being your last; this was the first of many.
He doesn’t know if anyone has ever touched him like you do, so sweetly and lovingly. It scared him to be adored or at the very least, genuinely cared for. And you proved just in the way you look at him that you always want more of him, to be near him.
He positions himself and slides into you slow, and you bite back a moan into his shoulder at that familiar fullness. How much you miss him even when he's right there.
"I know you make such pretty noises. It's like a fucking melody I can't get out of my head. So beautiful for me."
His praise, as always, makes you whimper into his mouth. He swallows them eagerly. You move against him, up and down with the help of his hands on your waist and lower back and your knees presed into the covers.
He quickens his pace and you whine, nails digging. You lick across his bottom lip and tilt into him and he hits you so nicely. He rises and looks at you for a moment in your flushed state, sex drunk and perfect, before ducking to suck a spot into your neck, marks be damned, you're his.
“The most gorgeous girl in the world,” he speaks lowly into your collarbone, littering kisses.
When his mouth finds yours again, you flick against his tongue as he pushes inside you again and again and again, hips stuttering as he nears the end.
His teeth graze your bottom lip and you pull his face closer to you, a plea, and he sighs at the feeling of you clench around him, moaning quietly.
Bliss falls over you as the coil finally breaks and you fill him spill inside you with a low groan, both your hands finding any expanse of skin they can to ground to earth. His mouth falls down your neck and nips that sweet spot, as you arch into him.
You finish together, and it overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, continuing on in euphoric waves as he reaches to circle your clit with his hand. You moan as it's prolonged by his touch and you fizzle out.
As you both lay there after trips to the bathroom and him taking a warm, wet cloth to between your thighs, your chests heave under the covers to wind down. Then, he turns to you.
"By the way... I didn't see a charge on my card Friday for gas," he looks over your face as if committing you to memory for the fun of it. "I know you paid. Do you do that a lot?"
"Do what?"
"Sneak in ways to take care of me."
You pause and look from eyes to his mouth and back up again, smiling. "Well, aren't you the detective?"
He grins, his eyes crinkling and you brush your fingers over the lines; those remnants of joy forever set in his skin.
"I think I'm in love with you."
You press a kiss to his lips and he breathes you in, cupping your cheek. His arm pulls you atop him under the blanket and you look down at him, mouths still barely touching.
A/N: i haven't written in so long, missed you guys! sorry i don't know much about medical procedures so this will probably be inaccurate lol ive been loving the pitt lately and i love that there's a fandom for them on here, if you guys like this one I wanna do Dr. Robby next ;) love me some Dr. Abbot, i also adore Dana so this is a bit of a love letter to her also, plz enjoy and feedback as always is appreciated <3
Summary: You're a third year resident at the Pitt and you and Dr. Jack Abbot are constantly butting heads. But he can't get you out of his. And you have a rule: don't date coworkers. So, when you throw a birthday party for Dana at her favorite dive bar, will the intimacy of low lights, drinking games, and a shared smoke finally bring you two together? Or force you further apart?
Warnings: age gap (Reader late-20's, early 30s) SMUTTT, 18+, unprotected bathroom, semi-public sex ;), fluff, p-in-v penetration, fingering, oral fem!receiving, dom! Abbot, jealous! possessive! jack, dry humping, thigh riding, slight angst, language, anxious reader, parent death, reader has trauma, daddy issues (eyyy), Abbot comforting reader, mentions of alcohol and smoking (drunk cigarette), mentions of blood an medical procedures
Red warmth blooms cross your chest and against your cheek. You suppress a gasp out of fear some will drip in your mouth, and inhale sharply at the putrid, metallic smell.
Images of the last time this happened flood your brain like a bad dream playing out in front of you. You have to remind yourself you're in the ED, you can't drown here without taking everyone down with you.
Dr. Whitaker looks at you, jaw on the floor, "Oh shit, y/n-" You'd laugh at his expression if you weren't internally freaking the fuck out.
"Not right now," you say, sharper than you mean to. "Let's just finish the procedure."
Dr. Robby flashes you a small, faintly concerned, smile before continuing his overseeing of the emergency surgery. You're one of the younger residents in the later years of the program but you've gotten close with the attendings.
Albeit, maybe a little differently with Dr. Abbot.
You couldn't tell if he hated your guts or not half the time. It was up and down; you would try to talk or interact with him and he would only quietly acknowledge you. Some days, you're at each other's throats over how a procedure needs to get done. The other days are softer, more intimate moments during breaks. Like nights on the roof with a shitty hospital sandwich, both wondering why you do what you do. But he was your attending, out of your league, and out of your depth.
Dana looks at you through the door and raises her eyebrows. You give her a look and shake your head. The telepathic exchange pretty much says, "Need new scrubs?" "Yes, please." "Are you okay?" "I don't know."
There's blood splattered all the way down the gauzy cover over your scrubs, but it's soaked through. You curse under your breath, knowing you'll have to change amidst all this chaos. It's all hands on deck in the Pitt today after a four car pile up on the highway. The day crew stayed on to help the night crew finish out the dozen people in the Pitt, all with critical injuries.
Dr. Garcia whistles lowly at the sight of you, "We're almost done, hotshot."
"Should... we be concerned about the blood spraying?" Whitaker asks tentatively.
"Usually," Dr. Robby moves around the table to your side, patting your back with a gloved hand. "But despite emergency gallbladder removal being quick and minimally invasive, this kind of thing happens at the end of the procedure when the abdominal ports are removed and pneumoperitoneum is released. Just keep going."
Your chest rises and falls fast at the deja-vu that conversation sparks. It hasn't been even a year since it happened, everything fresh and split open. You've told your therapist that the paranoia was one of the worst parts. That everyone can look at you and see your failings, your emotional limitations. The sensitivities that your past mentors have blamed for what holds you back.
It's normal. It doesn't mean all is lost, he will pull through.
You freeze, standing there, and your vision begins to blur around the edges. You blink hard, trying not to look down at your chest, and just push through to finish.
You relax at your friend and colleague's touch before moving to deflate the abdomen.
Dr. Abbot comes in, catching the tail end of Dr. Robby's touch on your shoulder and watching your suture. You finish up and meet his eyes from the doorway. His curls are mussed up in that way it gets during a crazy shift, the kind you want to run your fingers through. His face is set, filled with hard lines, but those eyes stay soft.
"You're done," Dr. Robby gestures to the door. "Go get clean scrubs and wipe that face of yours. Take five, too."
"I'm good."
He guides you to the door, practically pushing you out of the room, "Take five, hotshot." That fucking nickname.
You flip him off away from other eyes. with your tongue out to boot.
"Hey," you look up at Dr. Abbot as you brush past him. The constant kink in your plan. The one where you finish out your residency unscathed, no relationships, no bumps in the road. But both of you, in one way or another, were constantly drawn to the other.
He follows behind you like a guard dog, clearly not needed elsewhere for the time being. Recognition is written all over his face when he catches sight of your furrowed brow and the way you chew your bottom lip. You never were good at hiding what you were feeling.
You smile at one of your patients as you pass her: a little girl named Jess accompanied by her mom. You angle yourself away so she doesn't see the blood on you, not wanting to scar this poor girl.
She was brought in for a scary high fever with horrible aching in her ears. You distracted her from the pain, while she was inconsolable, crying and screaming, calming her down long enough to talk to her about her symptoms and find out it was a only a nasty ear infection.
It was one of Dr. Abbot's favorite pieces of you.
Now she's grinning as you walk past, waving wildly, finally waiting to be discharged. That quiet ache in your chest dulls just a little at the sight of something good you did today. Sometimes the wins here were few and far between, but today you got one.
You call out to them, "I'll come see you guys in just a minute! Gotta clean up!"
"Are you okay?" he easily catches up to your side.
"I'm awesome," you say, quiet and tired.
You didn't really feel like dressing up your tone today either, not when he's been on a tear your entire shift, clearly in a dark place himself today.
You've seen your fair share of Jack's bad days. He wouldn't ever dare take them out on you, intentionally, but you could always sense when he wasn't there like he usually was; present, commanding, self-assured. He resorts into himself even more and barely speaks to anyone, only when necessary. Today was like that, and it put you on edge. You even tried being friendly in the break room, but to no avail, he wasn't budging today.
Dr. Santos wiggles her eyebrows at the two of you walking side by side, "Looking cozy, you two." She and Dr. Abbot share a quick, unrecognizable look between each other.
"Kiss my ass, stabby," you roll your eyes with a good-natured smile in her direction. She blows you a kiss over her shoulder.
Jack opens the door to the scrub exchange room so you can move past, "Care to tell me what your problem is?"
You recoil at the sharpness in his voice, "Why do you care, Jack?"
"What kind of question is that?"
The accusation made you feel selfish. Here he was trying to ask what was up with you when you couldn't bring yourself to ask how he's doing. You were scared to. To let him in? For him to hurt you? Something told you the both of you couldn't do just friends, anyway. You don't really know what that makes you two then, something adjacent; a secret third thing?
Dana's already got a pair of new scrubs laying out for you on the table, perfectly in your size. You begin taking off the bloody surgery gauze with shaking hands. The fear made you feel powerless; a doctor triggered by blood splatter. How inconvenient was that.
The last time you've had this happen was one of the worst days of your life. The anniversary was only a couple short months ago and with it brought back the nightmares and panic attacks. Now it was happening all over again, as if he was back on that table himself.
Your eyes get misty and red-rimmed, threatening to let tears slip. You swallow deeply and turn away, not wanting to bare your soul to him right now in this break room. The shift was almost over, just an hour more to go to get these last remaining patients dealt with. You wanted a hole in the floor to swallow you up in the meantime.
"Hey," he takes off his gloves and surgery gear to walk over to you. Like approaching a trembling, cornered animal.
You bristle at his proximity, "What, Jack? What do you want? I have to get changed-"
He takes an antiseptic wipe from the counter and moves to wipe the blood from your face. "Hold still."
He holds your chin between his fingers, calloused and moving you slowly, while his other hand dabs the blood from your cheek and with it the breath in your chest.
"This okay?" he looks to you for confirmation.
Yes. No. Fuck, you can't.
You pause a moment before nodding. Idiot.
The two of you lock eyes as he cleans you up, before you have to look away, skin prickling under the heat they make you feel all over. The earnestness in them makes your heart stop and start again, sputtering out like engine failure. His touch is gentle, surprising, and lingers across your jaw, your nose, the corner of your mouth. You don't see him like this often, but something about it makes your stomach flutter; a mix between nerves and wanton need fighting it out in the pit of your belly.
Jack's looking at you like he knows exactly where your head is and it's like you're see-through, but that paranoia you've clung to for so long is nowhere to be found.
"I got you, y/n, okay? I got you."
He tilts your chin up to wipe off your neck and steadies you by cradling your jaw. You almost hum at the feeling, and momentarily let yourself believe him.
"They really did a number on you," he says lowly, his voice coiling around your insides like cat by a hearth. "You're okay now."
Jack finishes up and throws the wipe away. You watch his movements, captivated by him in this moment, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."
"Now..." he steps away. "Can you tell me what's going on? While I turn around and you change into new scrubs?"
He does as he says, facing the door and blocking everyone's view into the room. You loosen the waistband and slip off your scrubs, focusing on anything but the spray across it when you throw them out.
You wipe your eyes, "Don't they need you out there?"
"I can spare a minute." For you.
Your voice goes soft as you finish tugging on the new scrubs, "I'm okay, Jack."
He melts a little at you saying his name, "You didn't look okay."
"Gee, thanks," you laugh and it comes out low and unconvincing. "And here I was trying to look so good for you."
"I didn't say you don't."
Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you walk over to the door, angling your head down, attempting to open it, "Then what are you saying?"
He turns and closes it before you can leave, looking down at you, "You know what I'm trying to say. And look, I've been where you are. I get bad days. I want to help so you can get back out there-"
"So you can ignore me all day, but when I'm a little off my game, suddenly I'm a damsel in distress begging you to save me? To help me do my job?" You shake your head about to walk out. You didn't want his pity, not if it came with strings. "Spare me."
He frowns, "Y/n, I didn't mean-"
The two of you are so close you feel his breath down on your face, "I get you're trying to help, but I can't do this with you right now. Not while I'm at work. And it's harder with you... You have to know that."
He stares at you for a long time, and the guilt settles in you. Deep. Maybe what you need most, but you can't handle the false hope of his upswing.
You have to have some kind of assurance this is someone you can really trust. You've earned that right to be guarded. You've known him only six months now, but you've stayed in each other's orbits, whether you could help it or not. And while you've wanted him almost the entire time, you know he could break your heart if he wanted to. You needed to stick to your plan. If you tried something and it didn't work, what then?
You worry you hurt his feelings but if he shows it, it's gone quickly.
"Alright, then. Forget I asked."
"Gladly."
"Serves me right," he scoffs.
You snap your head toward him and poke his chest, "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, y/n," he looks away from you. "It won't happen again. Just get back to work."
You feel that lump in your throat come back up again, wondering if he was really being genuine. Both of your walls coming up as usual, clashing. You shake out of it, "Won't be a problem, Dr. Abbot."
Something flickers over his face when you call him that.
"Now please move."
He opens the door and you walk out from under his arm. Dana watches the two of you disperse like you're a lit match and he's a puddle of gasoline. She walks up to you, slowly, eyes a little wide and full of interest.
"Was that as exciting as it looked?" she runs a hand up and down your arm.
You snort, swiping a hand down your face. "Hardly. What about you birthday girl? You're the one who should be excited. Let's do something you and me on Saturday."
You attempt at keeping your voice steady as to not ruin her surprise, this is what you could focus your energy on. Your friend and making her day perfect. Not Dr. Never-Smiles.
She grins and you feel the muscles in your shoulders relax at the sight of your dear friend and one of your biggest mentors, some normalcy, "For the party?"
"Damnit!" you gasp. "Who the hell told you! Was it fucking Robby? He seems like he'd be good at keeping secrets but he's got those shifty eyes-"
"Hun, I know everything around here," she wraps an arm around your waist, hugging you close. "Can't even drop a name on the premises without me knowin' about it."
"Someone's clairvoyant now?" you tease. "Can you just pretend to be surprised? For me?"
"Anything for you, sugar," she squeezes you to her side. "Still can't believe you got enough off work for a few hours to plan this. Makes me think the big guy upstairs is looking out for me."
"Who? Dr. Mehta in Neurology?" you smirk.
She shoves your arm away, tutting you in playful disapproval, "You're funny today."
You laugh, tugging on the stethoscope around your neck as you look at the board to see who you could discharge next, "That's me. Just a barrel of laughs."
"Seriously, though, how you doin'?" she puts a hand on your back. Her signature mom move. "I saw what happened in there. Wanted to check in on you."
"I'm fine, Dana."
She clicks her tongue, "Oo, testy, testy."
"Sorry, I'm just..." you catch Dr. Abbott's even stare as he walks past the two of you again. "...prickly,"
"Is the cactus that pricked you maybe named Jack Abbot?"
You smile at her. "Wasn't entirely his fault today, to his credit. But he treats me like a liability. Like a short fuse."
"He's not the best at comfort sometimes, he's more the strong, silent type. Though, I get the appeal," she says as you both observe him talking to Dr. Robby. "But you're the only one I've seen him do it for, ya know? Something to think about, that's all." She shrugs innocently.
You feel eyes on you and look up to see Jack turning away quickly.
"He was just doing his due diligence," you correct her. "Making sure I wasn't a flight risk. All that was."
"Sure," she scoffs. "And I make six figures."
Dr. Mohan calls out your name, calling you over to a trauma room to assist her with the patient you were supposed to discharge. "Shit. Gotta go. Saturday at 8 at O'Malley's, alright? Just you and me," you grin at her conspiratorially as you walk over to Samira.
Dana winks, "Wouldn't miss it."
---
You're running around O'Malleys like a chicken with their head cut off, burying yourself into party planning, making sure everything's in order. "Everyone get in your places, she's almost here!"
"This isn't a surprise party, anymore," Al-Hashimi chuckles as she sips her martini, swiveling around in her bar stool. "She knows we're doing this. We don't have to hide."
Robby pats her back as he passes her, "Where's your sense of whimsy, Al-Hashimi? Humor her."
You've decked out the bar with the help of Dana's husband, Benji, with syringe jello shots, beakers filled with various cocktails, "blood" bags, and other hospital themed snacks. You knew she'd get a kick out of it. Since she knew the owner, you were able to reserve the entire bar for the night, all as a favor to Dana because that was the kind of person she was. The kind that made connections everywhere she went.
"Birthday parties are about the friends and family, not the guest of honor," Santos finishes off the rest of her frozen margarita, already tipsy after being here half an hour. Garcia laughs at her side. "Obviously." You shoot them both a look.
"Were we even invited then?" Whittaker whispers to Javadi. She shrugs.
Langdon mouths a resounding 'no' in your direction that you choose to ignore.
"She wanted everyone here," you assure the two of them. "Now fucking hide!"
Everyone does as you say with some grumbling. Dana's friends outside of work are here, as well as her husband and brothers, all excited to celebrate her. Almost all of the staff is here, but Jack. You bite down on your lip to keep from letting it start to shake along with your hands. You both haven't talked since Thursday during your shift together. You're worried you fucked up, that you hit a nerve. But he was a dick. And now Dana's friend won't be coming to her birthday.
Fuck, you asked him to bring the cake. You run a hand through your done up hair, curled and pinned. You put on something thinking he'd still come like an idiot.
You zipped yourself into that leather vest at the back of your closet, letting your red bra peek through you had stowed in your drawers, and tight, black skirt you look like you got poured into. Yeah, you got dolled up for yourself, but a part of you wanted him to keep thinking you looked good. That he meant what he said Thursday. Just for the thought, nothing more.
The entrance door opens and shuts abruptly, "Sorry, I'm late. Traffic was hell."
Jack walks into the dining area with a white, cardboard box in one hand and a smaller one filled with birthday candles. He looks around to see everyone gone in their hiding spots around the bar.
He sets the boxes down on the counter by the piles of plastic silverware, "Where the hell is everybody?"
You hear Dana's voice outside the bar, no doubt alerting you to her presence and stalling for time so everything was in place. Like she'd know you'd want it.
You forgo explaining again to Jack everything and grab his hand, whispering hurriedly while you drag him to a little alcove in the corner by the bar, "Hiding, come on."
You guide him into the spot while he looks at you expectantly, all hazel eyes and giving nothing away on that face of his except the rise and fall of his chest. You're pressed against his chest. The two of you are tucked to where no one can see you, trying to get him situated before Dana comes in expecting your fake birthday plans.
Your hands lay flat on his toned stomach, apparent even beneath his dark gray Henley.
"For the surprise?" he asks you quietly, looking down at your hands on him but saying nothing. "I thought that was ruined."
You pull away from him. "Yeah... Well, she's uh, she's pretending for us," your breath catches slightly when he moves closer. You swear he does. "Stay here until I yell, okay?"
He nods and a beat of silence passes between you both before he confesses. His eyes glaze over you, "You look really good tonight, y/n."
You let a smile slip and his chest seizes, "Thank you... You too."
Jack looks at the ground and back up at you. "I'm sorry for earlier. I shouldn't have pushed you and spoken to you that way." You swallow thickly, about to respond.
Santos groans from her hiding spot by the bathrooms, poking her head out, "Where the hell is she? I thought she was here?"
You pry yourself away from him before you get yourself stuck back there pressed into him, getting yourself into trouble. "She's at the door. Everyone, hold on."
Dana finally walks in. "I'm here!"
"Close your eyes!" you yell, laughing at her annoyed expression. She sighs but smiles at you, obliging your request.
"Weird get together, y/n," she chuckles. "This some new younger generation thing?"
"Hush," you grab her hand. "It's just some dinner I set up with the owner, Jimmy. I'm flattered you got so dressed up for me."
She grins. Her hair is down for once and she's got on her favorite red, wrap dress, paired with her signature crimson lip.
"You look gorgeous," you tell her with a small smile.
"Thanks, hun. I'd tell you how you look but I'm currently being dragged around by a crazy woman."
You laugh, "Open your eyes. Come out!"
Everyone tumbles out and Langdon, who's in charge of confetti cannons, pops them off under the 'Happy Birthday' sign as everyone screams the very same. All her friends and family fill the bar, jumping and hollering as colorful confetti rains down.
Dana gasps and brings her hands to her mouth, happy tears in her eyes, "You guys!"
She looks at you and pulls you into a huge hug with a bone-crushing grip.
"Your surprise looked genuine," you chuckle. "I didn't know you were such a good actress."
"It's not for the party," she squeezes you, choking up. "It's for all the love." You hold her tightly back.
"Well, we love you," you pull away from her. "You do so much for us. This is just a fraction that we're giving back tonight."
"She's being humble," Mohan comes up beside you, leaning on your shoulder. "She did everything with Benji. We just showed up."
Her husband comes up and pulls her close to kiss her temple, "Happy birthday, darling. You deserve it all. You got some good friends."
"Great friends," Dana looks at you and wipes her eyes. "Come on, now, let's drink!" She pats your back before joining the owner behind the bar, waving her over.
Your friends whoop and holler, dispersing to grab cocktails from the bar. You finally get to stand still and relax for just a moment after spending all day prepping. For that though, you're no longer occupying that mind of yours. Now you were forced to think about everything you've avoiding the last couple days. Everything being the man standing in front of the bar talking to Robby, both occasionally peering in your direction.
Robby sips his drink, "So... what's the deal with you two?" He nods in your direction.
Jack shakes his head, "Nothing."
"What a crock."
"I'm serious, man," he shrugs his shoulders, exasperated. "You've seen the way she gets when I try to get closer to her. She wants nothing to do with it and I can't blame her."
"You asking her occasionally how she's doing and ignoring her other times might not be cutting it. And today was just hard for her, that's all," Robby explains. Jack opens his mouth to ask but thinks better of it.
Robby shakes his head, "Don't ask me to tell you, that's her business... But she's also got that rule."
Jack leans back against the bar, watching you survey the room, pouting your lip in concentration like you do. He furrows his brow. "What are you talking about?"
"She doesn't date coworkers."
He blinks hard and tries to shut down the part of him that ever thought of you being a possibility. A stupid, desperate sliver that you'd even be interested. Something inside him twists uncomfortably.
He ventures a question, thinking his best friend would let him off the hook for it, "Never?"
Robby doesn't. He flashes that shit-eating grin, "You think you could change her mind?"
Jack watches you smile talking to Dana, eyes crinkling, hair falling against your cheek; alight.
"Maybe."
McKay comes up to you, sipping on one of the non-alcoholic drinks you set out for her and the designated drivers of the night. She smiles at you behind the rim of your glass, "What do you say we get you drunk, huh?"
"Oh my god, please," you hook your arm around hers to make your way to the strongest drink you made.
You dance your fingers over the options before landing on a blood bag you set aside for yourself. Wrapping your lips around the tube attached, you sip quickly as you watch the festivities; everyone talking and laughing.
McKay leans beside you, "It was sweet of you to do this for Dana. I think we could all use the break, too." She looks at you meaningfully.
You snort, nodding your head, "Yeah... for real."
She gestures to Jack talking to Dana and giving her well wishes, "You and Abbot still weird around each other?"
"We talked..." your face flushes with heat at the reminder of the feeling of your hands on his body. How he just stood and watched you, even leaned into it. You inhale, "...a little when he came in."
"I'll never understand why you two haven't jumped each other's bones yet," she sips her drink. "It's all anyone talks about."
You turn to look at her, "You're full of shit."
She cracks a smile, shrugging her shoulders, "You can't tell me you don't see it."
"No, Cassie," you continue sipping your drink. "I don't see it."
"I got you, y/n, okay? I got you."
Maybe you did a little.
"Oh, yeah," she turns around, leaning on her elbows. "You have that rule."
"Yep," you catch Dr. Abbot's eyes from across the room. "So, let's just get back to partying."
She laughs, "If you say so-"
"Dana!" you look to your friend, knowing what you're about to say will be exactly what she'll want to do. "Drinking game?" You fold your arms over your chest.
She grins, "Sounds fun! No throwing things this time, though, kids. I'm looking at you two." She points at Langdon and Santos.
Whitaker and Robby start pooling tables and chairs together for everyone who wants to play in the middle of the room. You feel an imposing presence at your side, the kind to put you both at ease and up a wall with frustration.
"You're looking for a rematch?" Jack looks at you. "This is what it's about? After last time?"
He was, of course, referring to the time you, Robby, Dana, and him had drinks after work. You all came here and played Texas Hold Em'. And he kicked your ass. It was one of the first times you've heard him genuinely laugh. And it plays in your head when you're home by yourself, keeping you going back to work.
You turn to him, chin tilted to look him in the eye. "That was a fluke."
His eyes are soft when he meets yours, like your sunshine incarnate; the whole world. Enough to make you ache, "How you always lose?"
You can't help but smile at him, "You want to make this interesting, then?"
"Tell me."
You shove your hands in your back pockets and cock your head, "We play for stakes."
"What are the stakes?" he takes a step closer to you.
You brace yourself for the sparks that spread all over your body, "Well, what do you want?"
You.
The feeling is overwhelming for him when he looks at you. That outfit you have on that hugs you in all the right places and makes the inseam on his Levi's feel tight. How much he needs you like he hasn't needed anyone in a long time. How he's always watching you at work, so much that it's almost a genuine distraction. To ask what he wants was a punch to the gut and it knocks the wind out of him. But he wasn't ever good at saying this kind of thing; to verbalize these hard to grasp feelings.
He chuckles, "Let's keep it a surprise, how about that? But if either of us wins, we give the other something."
Your stomach flutters, "Really? Aren't you scared the shock of your epic loss will stop your old man heart?"
He cracks a small half smile, flaring those canines you've memorized the placements of from only the few times you've actually seen them. It makes this whole keeping your respectful distance more and more challenging.
"I think I can handle it," he tilts his head and crosses his arms.
"You two!" Santos gestures to the open chairs next to her. "Quit eye fucking and lets play!"
You move around the table with him behind you, both taking your seats. "You're making me not want to sit by you, Trinity."
"Shut up, you love me," she bumps your shoulder.
Robby sips the bourbon you set aside for him and Abbot because you knew both of them would hate the sugary cocktails, "What game do you want, Birthday Girl?"
"Never have I ever," she grins. "A classic for a reason. Everyone hold up ten fingers."
Langdon points at her, Robby, and Abbot, "You three would know about the classics."
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just call me old on my birthday," she smacks his arm.
You look at the lineup of people participating: Robby, Santos, Garcia, Abbot, Mohan, McKay, Langdon, and you, with the rest of the party busying themselves with the pool table and skee-ball machine. This would surely be interesting.
"Aren't we too old to play this game?" Abbot leans forward on his folded arms. His biceps bulge with the effort, on full display under his rolled up sleeves, buttons undone with peeks of chest hair.
You finish off your drink and grab another.
"Don't listen to him, he's just afraid of losing," you lean forward next to him.
He turns to you, "Those are fighting words, Dr. y/l/n."
The alcohol you've chugged down delightfully tinges the edge of your vision, making your thoughts slower, looser.
You look him up and down, "What are you gonna do about it, Dr. Abbot?" He glances at your mouth and wonders why you're choosing to toy with him.
Robby wolf whistles, "Maybe we should start before y/n gives Jack a heart attack."
"Fuck off," you take a swig of your drink. "Let's start. Dana, you should go first," you nod to her.
"Never have I ever had a one night stand," she keeps her fingers up, smirking knowingly.
Everyone at the table takes a drink and puts a finger down.
You look at Jack trying to hold back your surprise. It spurred you. You don't know you frown at that information. The thought of him with other women.
Dana erupts into a fit of laughter, clapping her hands together, "I fuckin' knew it. Especially Michael." She hugs his arm.
Robby feigns offense but everyone at the table groans, practically booing his attempts at disagreeing. He's king of non-commitment, everyone knew it. The most avoidant man you knew.
"Our resident Pitt player," Mohan toasts her drink to him.
You laugh, "I think you mean attending." The table cackles.
Jack watches you throw your head back with laughter, the melodic sounds of pure joy spilling out of you. He longed to make you that happy, to give you that look on your face.
"My turn," McKay smiles, smug, glancing at you. "Never have I ever wanted to have sex with a coworker."
Robby surreptitiously takes a sip, for obvious reasons. So does Santos and Garcia. All putting their fingers down.
Jack takes a long sip. And you don't miss the way he looks to you. For you to see it. To see what you'd do next.
Your chest seizes, heat pooling at the apex of your thighs. You debate on how honest you want to be in this game, but you don't want to cheat. You hate cheaters. Yet, being honest right now might put you more into the moral gray. You'd be breaking another rule of yours.
But who's to say you're talking about him.
You take a sip of your drink.
"I'm starting to feel like this game is rigged," Robby rolls his eyes.
You glare at McKay when she smiles at you, "Me too."
"It's not cheating to know your opponents," she defends herself, hands raised.
"My turn," you speak up. "Never have I ever dated a coworker." This was an easy one, but you were playing to win.
Robby, Santos, Garcia, and Mohan all take sips of their drinks, putting their fingers down.
Dana raises her eyebrows, "I'm starting to sense a theme here."
Jack chuckles, still tied in points with you, "Nice try." You groan.
"Never have I ever worn an outfit in the hopes of getting someone's attention," he's turned toward you when he says this, that's unmistakeable. Your skin prickles.
All the women at the table and Langdon take a sip and put down fingers.
Dana pats his back, "We all knew, sweetheart."
"I like to look good for certain people. Sue me," he shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.
You didn't take Jack to be the conniving type. He's putting you on display and he knows it, but you take a sip anyway. What was the harm in letting him believe that for the evening? That under these dimly lit, warm lights in this bar, you could pretend for just a minute that it means nothing.
"I don't advise it to people," you admit quietly. "But I don't see the harm in wanting someone to notice you," you lock eyes. "Just for fun."
"You think it's fun to tease me?" he asks. His voice is low enough for only you to hear.
You inhale sharply, "I don't know what you mean."
His eyes fall to your lips and back up again, "You do."
The game progresses quickly after that, with everyone finishing off their drinks and then some. Robby lost first, to no one's surprise. The questions remained dirty and surprising from your friends, with constant shared glances with you and Abbot. Because of course, he wouldn't make it easy. Now, it was down to just you and him.
"I'm gonna be the tiebreaker," Dana smiles. "Cause I'm the birthday girl. And I'll make it simple... never have I ever been in the military." The table screams.
Jack scoffs, "That's not fair!" He drinks and puts his last finger down.
You giggle, rocking back and forth, before finishing off your drink anyway. "I win, I win, I win! You lose!" You and Dana high-five from across the table.
He watches your small victory dance and despite being someone who hates not winning, so much so that he and Robby have bets that have lasted years, he can't bring himself to be upset about it.
"Dana..." you get up and walk behind her chair. "My love, can I have a cigarette?"
She looks up at you with squinted eyes, "I don't smoke anymore."
"I know you have some."
There's a pause before she sighs and hands you one from her purse. "Don't tell Benji." You kiss the top of her head and head outside.
You stand against the brick wall outside, lit cigarette against your lips when you hear footsteps. You look up to see Jack and he joins you at your side. You wordlessly offer him a smoke and he takes it from your fingers, pulling it to his mouth to inhale slowly, his jaw clenching. The sight stirs in your stomach.
"I'm sorry I gave you the cold shoulder Thursday..." he tells you as he exhales smoke. You watch him tentatively.
"You already apologized, Jack, it's okay-"
"I mean before that," he looks down. "It was uh, it was Claire's... it was the day she died."
Your breath catches. His wife.
"I've moved on in a lot of ways, but that pain and loss has settled in me. I don't think it'll ever leave... It just hits me sometimes and I took it out on you, that wasn't fair."
You frown, "It's okay, Jack. I wasn't in the best place either that day. I get it, I do. And I'm sorry, too. I hate you have to live with that. And I'm sorry I was... obstinate."
He doesn't ask, he doesn't pry, just hands you back the cigarette. Your fingers brush when you take it back.
"The blood spray... it reminded me of when my father died on my operating table. It sent me back to that night."
Jack turns to you almost immediately. You didn't think a look alone would be enough to comfort you, to blanket you with warmth, but he does. And he just holds your hand where they meet against the wall and squeezes.
"I didn't apologize to get you to tell me, y/n," he assures you, moving to stand in front of you, still gripping your hand.
"I know, I want to," you nod. "I have, I just... I don't tell people often. But I want to tell you." He returns your nod, moving to brush hair out of your face.
"We didn't have a good relationship. I've lived with my mom and step-father since I was a teenager. My dad was angry all the time, horrible to us. Then, after not seeing him for over ten years, he came in one day with a heart attack while I was on shift back home in my second year of my residency," you inhale the smoke, hoping it will defuse the tension in your body.
He only stands there and listens, quietly urging you on.
"He insisted I be the one to help him. Or he wouldn't get treatment. And as much as I hated him, I didn't want him to die. He had to have immediate emergency surgery... and it was going okay," your eyes fill with hot tears. "It was going well, then he started losing blood," you wipe your eyes, steeling your resolve. "He lost so much blood. And it got all over me..."
He watches you for a moment before speaking, "You didn't deserve that, y/n... I'm so sorry." Warmth spreads all over your body when he whispers, "You were put into an impossible position that you never should have been in."
You lay your head against the wall and sniffle, squeezing his hand again, "Thank you..." you smile softly. "You're pretty comforting when you want to be, Dr. Abbot."
He chuckles to himself and nods, looking down at your hands, "Only for you."
You beam at the confession before deciding to finally ask.
"I saw you and Robby talking earlier," you admit to him in the quiet stillness of the alley, making it harder to breathe. "I'm guessing he told you?"
He meets your eyes, twinkling with amusement, probably for your eavesdropping but he nods, "Yeah. He did."
You narrow you eyes, catching you bottom lip between your teeth to keep your smile at bay, "Why did he feel the need to tell you that?"
"What about you and him?" he says, voice dripping with something heavier than the smoke still hanging in the air, deflecting. "You two..." he gestures wildly hoping he doesn't have to say what he means.
You blink at him, laughing at the state of him, "What? Dating?"
"Yeah. You open up to him... I love the guy, but I can't help but see how close you two are and... I don't know."
You cock your head to the side, "He saw me freaking out in pedes on the anniversary of my father's death... a couple months ago. He's one of the only people who know because of that. Him and Dana. That's why we're close."
"Not because you're..."
You shake your head, letting the words hang in the air as you two don't break away from each other. The icy chill against your skin does nothing to cool the heat glowing from your chest, making your breath catch, stuck in your throat.
"Why don't you date your coworkers?" he asks, voice low. It flickers around your belly and suddenly, you don't know the answer.
You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, fiddling, "Because I don't want to jeopardize my career... because if it ends, then it fucks everything up. It's never worked out well in the past, so I just figured-" he leans toward you. "-that I should just..."
He presses a kiss against your cheek, hand cradling your cheek toward his lips as they move along your jaw, "Should what?"
You swallow thickly, nodding and leaning into him, "That I should... should stop altogether."
"Tell me to stop, then."
You look at him and wonder what you're risking here. After all this time, you didn't know if you were capable of holding yourself back longer, to sacrifice your happiness for safety, for comfort. So you shake your head, letting him in.
He trails his mouth down your neck and you press into him. He slots himself between your legs, one thigh between them. You gasp, clutching his shirt between your fingers, and he whispers, "Have you changed your mind?"
You slide your hands up to hold his face in your hands, "You've always been my exception, Jack."
A heated silence passes between you two before his lips crash against your own, pushing you hard and further into the wall. You inhale sharply into the kiss, tugging at his curls at the nape of his neck. He groans into your mouth, both of you a tangle of limbs, pulling, tugging, pushing. It's better than the fantasies that have kept you up late into the night, when your fingers have wandered between your thighs, and you'd whisper his name into your bedsheets.
"You're even better than I imagined..." he slowly kisses you, mouth working on you like he's committing you to memory.
He didn't know what he did to deserve you being in his arms, but he wasn't going to press his luck, not when you're soft and wanton and leaning into him, both trying to absorb the other. It was the most familiar, comfortable thing, as if every version of the two of you would have found each other. You two touched as if you've already mapped out each divet, dip, and mark on the other's skin, knowing exactly where to kiss, to lick, to bite.
"We should have been doing this the whole time," you laugh breathlessly.
He grins and it pierces through your chest, struck, "You're worth the wait."
His denim clad thigh presses panties against your panties as he pushes your body up and down with his hands gripping your waist, providing much needed friction for the ache, your legs slick with need. You leaned your head back to catch your breath and he took the time to trail his tongue and mouth back down your throat, landing on your chest. He licks the skin above the red lace of your bra, sucking a bruise into your breast while you continue riding his leg. You were so close already that it embarrassed you, how much you need him. Love him.
"Everyone will see this on me, Jack," you gasp.
He pulls you closer so you're flush against him, "That's the idea."
You let out a desperate noise you didn't know was possible, running your hands between his curls, needing something tangible between your fingers to remember where you are, "Fuck me-"
"Not yet," he tuts you, gravelly and stern, not stopping the assault on your neck and pulsing cunt. Your lower belly tenses.
"We... we can't out here."
"Do you want everyone to see inside?" his voice laced with taunting sarcasm. "See you dripping all over my thigh with my face in your tits... making you say my name like that. For everyone to see who you belong to."
You pull his face up, forcing him to meet your eyes. His are lust blown, looking up from his lashes. He stares at your mouth, flushed and swollen and covered in his spit. You both look wrecked.
"Take me to the bathroom," you say firmly. "I don't want to wait."
He cracks a smile, "Yes m'am."
You tug your skirt back down and he watches you with a smug look on his face, how your thighs and chest are glistening. You look away from him, flushing.
He kisses your forehead, "You're so beautiful."
You smile and take his hand, "Take me inside, Jack."
He pulls you in through the back exit with you hiding behind his back. The party is still in full-swing, everyone chatting and laughing and drinking. Dana is about to begin a game of pool with Robby. That should buy the two of you about half an hour of her distracted, you think. You were hoping she'd understand, but really, knowing her, she'll be ecstatic.
Jack pulls you in the private, family bathroom, with stickers and sharpie written quotes covering every inch of the wall. The low lights glowed purple and dark blue, bathing you both in colorful ambience.
He shuts the door behind you with his leg, eyes on you, and locks it. He walks up to you, backs you up into the sink, and you brace yourself with your hands against the porcelain, delightfully cold against your hot skin.
"This is what you want?" his hands find your waist. You answer by gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. He hums lowly, gripping you tighter.
"Yes, Jack... it's all I've wanted," you pull away, clearly needy.
"This might not be what I imagined for our first time-"
You grin, looking up at him, "What did you imagine?"
His eyes crinkle at the corners, "You haven't left my mind since I met you, y/n. And I wanted to take you out... to take you home. So if that's not happening yet, I'm going slow."
"Jack-" you whine, watching him sink to his knees.
His hands slide up the back of your legs, squeezing your thighs as he presses a kiss to the inside of them, "I want to savor this. Even if we're in a dive bar bathroom."
You laugh, watching him scrunch up your skirt to reveal your matching red panties with a wet spot in the middle, "It's kind of perfect, if you think about it... since this was where we first hung out outside of work."
He tugs down your panties, prompting you to lift your heels off the ground so he can shove them in his pocket. You clench around nothing at the sight of him, mouth hanging open.
His voice is commanding, the same curt tone you've heard in the Pitt, it sends shivers down your back, "Put your leg up."
You do as he says, propping your leg over his shoulder, shaking, "Jack, your leg. I don't want you to-"
"Y/n," he looks up and presses a soft kiss to your clit. "Stop worrying."
He sucks two fingers into his mouth, slipping both of them inside of you, watching the way you stretch around them as he pumps in and out of you. Gripping the sink tighter, you tip your head back and hit the mirror. When his mouth finally touches your pussy, you have to bite down on your lip to keep from screaming. He lazily licks up and down your dripping cunt, spreading you open with his tongue and fingers.
"You taste so fucking good," he mewls, voice ripping you apart, groaning into you. "So fucking pretty and good for me, aren't you? I knew you would be."
His tongue slips inside you with his fingers, alternating between flicking up and down, his clit sucked between his lips. You press your hand into your mouth as your release already begins to build.
He scissors his fingers inside you as he looks up at you, mouth and chin shining with your juices. He glows under the violet lights, angelic.
"Are you wanting to say something?" he smirks, teasing.
"Fuck you, Jack," you say muffled into your hand.
"I will," he licks you up and down, a man starved. "If you want it, though, you need to come into my mouth first, baby." You slide your hands down to press him into you further, riding his face.
"I'm so close, Jack," you tug at his curls and he moans, sending you undone. You tense and bite your lip so hard you swear you draw blood to stop crying out, small noises slipping, happy that someone decided to finally blare music over the loud speakers.
He's unrelenting through your release, lapping you up gleefully and fucking you with his tongue. You don't think you could do it again as it wracks through your body, but when he looks up at you, kissing up your inner thigh, you know you have at least one more in you.
"Jack... oh my god," you pull him up to stand in front of you, kissing him and tasting yourself on his tongue. "You've outdone yourself."
He drags his mouth along your jaw, smiling, "We're not done."
"Then take off your shirt." He does as you say wordlessly, one arm pulling his shirt over his head and hanging it on the door's hook. Your eyes fall over his rippled torso, all muscle and broad shoulders.
He nods next to you, "Go against the wall."
"My legs are shaking," you say quietly, defiantly, admitting quietly with a small smile. "I don't think I can..."
Jack looks you over, "Okay." Then he tucks his hands under your thighs and picks you up, your legs wrapping around his bare torso.
He presses you forcefully into the wall, letting you slide down with one leg hooked over his waist. He holds you up with one hand as the other undoes his belt and unzips his jeans. You watch him, enchanted, pulling them down just enough to spring his cock free from his boxers, long, rigid and flushed pink.
You lean back against the wall, chest heaving, "I want you in my mouth next time."
He slowly drags it between your slick folds, the swollen head of him pressing against you so deliciously you could come again right there, just at the sight and feel of him.
"Next time?" his kisses under your ear, tucked into your neck. "I'm taking you home tonight."
You don't argue because as he soon as he says it, he's pushing inside and shutting you up, giving you only a second to adjust before he's slamming in and out of you. He rips open the snap buttons on your vest, littering your chest with tongue and lips, sucking on the sensitive skin.
"Fuck, Jack, just like that..." you praise him as he undoes the clasp of your bra, letting his mouth find your stiff nipple, tongue encircling the stiff peaks. You roll your hips against his, hand on the small of his back to push him closer, "Please, Jack, more, want to feel you-"
"So fucking greedy, baby" he chastises you lowly as his hips stutter at the way you push back, pulling all of him in. For a man of usually few words, he won't shut up while he fucks you, like you've unlocked something in him. "Taking me like you were made for me... Tell me who's you are."
Your drag your mouth on his cheek, kissing across his stubble, "Yours, Jack, only yours."
"Say it again."
He scatters kisses across your chest, feeling your release build by the way your legs shake and quiver, "I'm yours, Jack."
He slides his hand down where your bodies meet and he massages your clit between his thumb and index finger, pressing into it and sending sparks up your body. His other hand cradles your jaw, kissing you, "I know you have one more in you, baby, give me another. Want to feel you tighten around my cock, watch that pretty pussy come again..."
You kiss slowly, languidly, as you both hit your peak. He swallows your moans and presses into you as he pushes you through your release. You hold each other as if you're the only thing anchoring the other to reality, forgetting there are people out there wondering where you are, that it's not just you two in this bar; in the world, for that matter.
You finally pull back and look up at him through your lashes, warm and hair mussed; makeup smudged. He pushes a tendril out of your eyes, pressing his mouth to your closed eyelids, your temple, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth.
"How... are we gonna go back out there?" you smile, still breathless.
"Maybe they've forgotten we're even here," he smirks, caressing your cheek as if you're breakable, as if you're the most precious thing in the world.
You hear a voice outside the door that's unmistakably your good friend Dr. Robby, laughing loudly, "Oh, we haven't now!"
grown men will throw fits about how they face sooo much rejection and women would never get it meanwhile me and the girls who were even just like average or a lil ugly at like 12 years old were being treated like we were subhuman by peers and adults alike
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