Smutty rabbot prompt and this may not make sense but im going to try because it's an idea of mine that they don't meet until at least their mid to late 30s.
So the prompt is how would the versions we know them as react to meeting the others younger self? Maybe med school or resident years ago range.
Took a lot of liberties with this one and got sad at the end
(robby)
It’s the crooked teeth that do it. That’s what Robby thinks, later, when he’s trying to find a justification for the sheer, feral hunger that seized him the moment he stepped into the on-call room. He’d come in for a quiet place to review labs, but the room was already occupied by the most gorgeous disaster he’d ever seen.
The kid was crammed into a corner, bent over a textbook with a pen behind his ear and a half empty monster can sitting beside him. His dark auburn hair was a riot of curls that defied any attempt at taming and his face was an explosion of constellations. A dense intricate map of freckles that covered his nose and cheeks. He was awkward, all sharp angles and skittish movements, a far cry from the man Robby had shared a life with for the last decade. This was Jack, stripped of his armor, before he’d learned to fill a room with his presence or deploy that devastating smirk.
"Dr. Robby, I’m sorry, I can leave," Jack stammered, trying to close his book and gather his things as he stood. His voice was higher and less confident. The sound went straight to Robby’s groin.
"Don’t," Robby said, his voice a low rumble he barely recognized. He walked into the room and let the door click shut behind him. He was 54, his temples grey, his body still solid from years of medicine and stress. He saw the way Jack’s eyes flickered down his frame before snapping back up to his face. A flicker of interest, that Robby easily recognized with familiarity, quickly smothered.
"The ED is mine," Robby said, surprising himself. "I get to tell you what to do."
He didn’t wait for a response. He crossed the room in a few steps, plucked the pen from behind Jack’s ear, and placed it on the table. Then he took Jack’s face in his hands tilting it up. The kid’s eyes were wide, the green flecked with gold, utterly trusting. Robby’s thumb traced the constellation of freckles on his cheek.
"You have no idea," Robby murmured, his lips brushing the corner of Jack’s mouth, "how much I want to ruin you."
His mouth came down on Jack’s, the kiss was a demand, deep and possessive with tongue. Jack gasped against him, a soft, surprised sound that turned into a needy whimper as Robby’s hands slid down his shoulders. Finding the hard lean muscles beneath the scrubs. This Jack was all wiry strength, a twunk in the making, and Robby's hands mapped every new curve. Every inch that wasn't yet marked by the years of loss.
Robby growled against his throat, mouthing at the pulse point, tasting salt and skin. "I’m going to take you apart," he said, his hands already working at the waistband of Jack's scrubs. "And then I’m going to put you back together the way I want you."
He pushed Jack back onto the narrow cot and the mattress squeaked in protest. The kid looked up at him, freckled and flushed, his crooked teeth visible in a nervous excited smile. He was a beautiful, blank canvas, and Robby was an artist who knew exactly which colors to use. He could see the shadow of his Jack in the sharp intelligence in his eyes, but in this moment, there was only this glorious youthful submission.
Robby sank down, his mouth finding the freckled expanse of a hipbone, his hands already working to strip the younger man bare. He would worship every inch of this younger Jack, whisper every filthy promise he could think of, and leave him so thoroughly wrecked that the memory of this night would be a ghost in his bed for years to come. The thought sent a primal thrill through him. He was going to demolish this boy and he was going to love every second of it.
(Jack)
He was watching a ghost. Jack stood in the doorway of the small apartment that Robby had lived in during his residency. It was the first time he’d seen him like this, completely unburdened. The floppy dark hair fell across his forehead making him look even younger than his late twenties. His brown eyes, so often hollowed by exhaustion and memory in the present, were now wide and bright. Brimming with an almost comical earnestness.
"Dr. Abbot?" Robby said, his voice carrying a note of excited nervousness. He'd been an intern at the time, a story Jack had heard a hundred times, but to see the way his head tilted as he looked up at the imposing grey haired figure who'd just materialized in his living room.
The air in the room was thick with the scent of cheap takeout. On the coffee table was a stack of journals, a half done crossword, and a small framed photo of his grandmother. Robby, even then, was sentimental.
"It's just Jack," he said, his own voice sounding foreign, softer than it usually was. The weight in his chest was unbearable. He looked at this vibrant hopeful young man and saw the shadow of his own exhausted solemn husband. This Robby was a racehorse in the gate ready to run. The Robby he knew was a thoroughbred that had run too many races, its bones aching, its spirit bruised.
Robby moved to him, a desperate, magnetic pull. "I can’t believe you're here," he breathed, his hands coming up to touch Jack’s face. There was no hesitation, no weary fatigue, just pure unadulterated affection.
Jack’s hands found Robby’s hips and his thumbs stroked the sharp hipbones. "You have so much life in you," Jack murmured, his voice thick. He was looking at the younger man, but he was seeing the future, the weight of it all. "So much light."
"Don’t be sad, Jack," Robby said, his brow furrowing in that familiar way. "What’s wrong?"
Jack couldn’t tell him the truth. That he was mourning a man who was still alive. That he saw the shadows gathering in the corner of his eyes the ones that would one day drown the light he was seeing now. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a soft, desperate kiss to Robby’s forehead.
"Nothing," he whispered into his skin. "Nothing you need to worry about."
He led the young man to the bedroom movements slow and deliberate as he dragged his feet. He laid Robby out on the small full bed, a mess of dark floppy hair and flushed skin, looking up at Jack with a trust that made his chest ache. Jack began a slow deliberate worship. His lips traced the shell of Robby’s ear, the line of his jaw, the delicate column of his throat. He murmured against his skin the words spilling out unbidden.
"You are so beautiful," Jack said, his voice breaking. "So strong. You don't even know it yet."
Each kiss and stroke of his hand was a promise. He mapped the landscape of this younger, hopeful body, committing it to new memories. He would be the dominant figure Robby clung to, offering the protection and care the older version of Robby had long since forgotten how to accept.
"I'm going to take care of you," Jack breathed against his sternum, as his tongue traced the rapid flutter of his heartbeat. "In a way you can't possibly understand."
He worked his way down, inch by inch, his murmurs growing softer and more reverent. He was dismantling Robby piece by piece, but with a tenderness so profound it was almost unbearable. He spoke of things Robby didn't understand, of the man he would become, the battles he would fight, and the sorrow he would carry. He did it with an intimacy that felt sacred, slowly taking him apart, piece by piece. He could try, in this small impossible way, to rebuild him and mend the fractures that hadn't even formed yet.
When Robby finally shattered beneath him, his cry was a broken beautiful sound of pure pleasure, so different from the haunted quiet of the man he left at home.
Just got back from the doctor's - they diagnosed me with Horny Faggot Disorder. There's no cure, but it can be managed with a medication regimen of cum, hairy chests and hairy pits. The prognostic is pretty good if the treatment plan is stuck to.
ooohhh if you're still accepting smutty rabbot prompts, maybe something with robby coming back from his sabbatical and going to jack's place... waiting in jack's bed for him to come home... reunion sex... is this anything? lol
2.6k of rabbot reunion sex
The hum of the hospital had long since faded into the quiet rhythm of the city waking up around him. Jack pulled his car into the driveway at twenty past nine, later than he'd intended, but the morning had crawled at its own pace. He'd taken his time with the charts, more time than necessary really, lingering over details that didn't need it. The truth was simple: he had nowhere to be.
Jack killed the engine and sat for a moment, letting the silence settle around him. The night shift always left him in this strange liminal space, too tired to be fully present, and too wired for bed. He'd grab some food, shower, and then curl up in bed with his phone until sleep finally took him. He grabbed his bag from the passenger seat and made his way up the stairs. The key code unlocked with its usual sticky resistance.
Routinely he dropped his bag by the door, toed off his shoes, but something was off. Not alarmingly so. The air had a warmth to it that suggested the heat had been running, though he was certain he'd turned it down before leaving. He padded through the living room. A half full glass sat on the coffee table. Jack paused, frowning slightly. He had a handful of colleagues who knew the code to his door, fellow night-shifters who sometimes needed a place to crash when the hours got too brutal. A few had taken him up on the offer over the years.
Curiosity pricked at him as he made his way down the hall, past the bathroom, toward his bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, while he always kept it closed. And then he heard it, a soft, rhythmic sound. Familiar in a way that made his stomach tighten. Jack pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him stole the breath from his lungs.
Robby lay sprawled across his bed, completely, utterly naked. His body was a study in contrasts. The sharp cut of his hip bones against the softness of his stomach, the broad expanse of his chest with its dusting of grey threaded dark hair, and firm pale thighs spread open in invitation. His hand moved in a slow, lazy rhythm along the length of his cock, which was—
Fuck.
In the soft morning light filtering through the blinds, with the man stretched out like an offering on his sheets, the sight hit him like a physical blow. Robby's cock was heavy and thick, flushed a deep rose at the tip, and Jack's mouth went dry watching Robby's thumb circle the slick head with practiced ease. Robby's eyes were hooded, dark with intention, fixed on Jack with an intensity that made him feel pinned to the spot. He didn't stop stroking himself, didn't so much as slow his pace.
“What," Jack managed, his voice coming out rough from surprise, "the actual hell."
A slow smile curved Robby's lips. He looked devastating like this. Fully relaxed and utterly sure of himself. "That's how you greet someone who's been gone for three months?"
"Someone—" Jack sputtered, gesturing helplessly at the bed. "You were supposed to be gone for another week. Your sabbatical isn't over."
"I got bored." Robby's voice was a low rumble, the kind that always did something complicated to Jack's insides.
"I—" Jack's brain short-circuited. "So you broke into my house?"
"I let myself in." Robby's hand continued its lazy rhythm, and Jack couldn't stop watching. "You gave me the code, remember?”
"To crash on my couch, Robby. Not to—" He gestured vaguely at the state of things. "To break into my bed and—"
Robby was so fucking hard, and his fingers were glistening with what Jack realized must be lube, and his stomach was flexing slightly with each slow stroke.
"Your bed's better anyway," Robby said, as if this explained everything. "More comfortable. Smells like you."
"You could have just asked."
"And miss the look on your face right now?" Robby's grin was wolfish. "Absolutely not."
Jack crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, determined to project some semblance of control. "You're an asshole."
"Mm." Robby's hand sped up almost imperceptibly. "You know what else I am?"
"Hung like a goddamn horse and way too cocky about it?"
"That too." Robby's eyes swept over Jack, dark and hungry. "I'm also the guy who knows exactly what you're going to do next."
Jack snorted. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah," Robby's voice dropped lower, that intimate register he only used when they were alone like this. "You're going to stand there and pretend you're annoyed for another minute or so. You're going to point out that I'm an inconsiderate dick who should've called first. You're going to make some comment about having plans that I've clearly derailed. I know your tells, that little furrow between your eyebrows when you're pretending to be more irritated than you actually are."
Jack's protest died in his throat.
"You're going to point out," Robby continued, "that you just worked a twelve-hour shift and you need to sleep. And then you're going to walk over to that dresser, open the second drawer where you keep the good lube and the box of condoms I bought last year because I was tired of you having a panic attack in the drugstore aisle—"
"I did not have a panic attack."
"You had a minor existential crisis over the texture options. Same thing." Robby's smile softened, just slightly. "You're going to get undressed, and you're going to come over here, and you're going to sit on my dick, because you've been thinking about it too."
Jack's mouth opened. Closed. "All that from three months apart?"
"All that from years of knowing you, Abbot." Robby's voice was softer, sincere despite the obvious arousal straining in his grip. "The sabbatical just gave me time to get really good at imagining exactly how this would go."
Something in Jack's chest cracked open with warmth. He'd missed this, missed Robby, more than he'd let himself admit over the past months. The texts had been frequent, the calls regular, but nothing replaced the reality of Robby's presence. The way he filled a room.
"You're a dick," Jack said, but he was already crossing to the dresser.
"Mm. And yet."
The second drawer opened with its familiar resistance. Inside, exactly as Robby had described, sat the lube and the box of condoms. Jack stared at them for a moment then looked back over his shoulder. Robby had shifted on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow, his cock still hard and waiting, his expression hungry and soft all at once.
"Three months," Jack said quietly. "And you couldn't have texted that you were coming back early?"
"I wanted to surprise you."
"You've surprised me." Jack pulled his scrub top over his head, tossing it aside. His grey undershirt followed. "I'm surprised. Congratulations."
Robby's eyes tracked the movement, lingering on the expanse of Jack's chest, the swell of his freckled chest. "Strip faster."
"Demanding."
"I've been waiting for this since I got off the road." Robby's voice had roughened, the teasing edge giving way to something rawer. "I've had three months of imagining you underneath me and right now you're wearing too many layers."
Jack's hands moved to his scrub pants, he pushed them down along with his briefs, stepping out of the pile of fabric. The morning air was cool against his skin, but his body had already been heating up under Robby's gaze. He reached down and unclipped his prosthesis, the familiar weight releasing as he leaned against the dresser to steady himself. The silicone liner came off next and then he was standing in the golden light with Robby watching him impatiently.
"Come here," Robby said, it wasn't a request.
He didn't feel self-conscious with Robby, hadn't in years, not since the first time Robby had pressed his lips to the scarred tissue at his knee. They'd been together too long, known each other too deeply, for that kind of anxiety. The mattress dipped under Jack’s weight as he climbed onto the bed, settling beside Robby. Up close Robby was even more devastating, the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and the warmth of his sun kissed from the roadtrip.
Something vulnerable flickered across Robby's face before the mask slid back into place. "I missed you.”
Jack reached out, fingers brushing through the scruffier beard along Robby's jaw. "I missed you too. Even if you are a dramatic bastard who breaks into people's homes."
"Your house."
"My point stands."
Robby turned his head, pressing a kiss to Jack's palm. "I love you."
And Jack's throat tightened, the way it always did when Robby said those words. After years of dancing around each other, of careful conversations, hearing it each time still felt like a small miracle.
"I love you too brother," he managed. "Now are you going to actually fuck me or are we just going to sit here being emotional?"
Robby laughed, bright and surprised. "There he is. The romantic I fell for."
"Shut up and kiss me."
The kiss was hungry with months of longing pouring into the press of lips and tongue. Jack melted into it, his hand fisting in Robby's grown out hair, pulling him closer, until there was no space left between them. Robby's hand found his hip, fingers digging in just shy of pain, and Jack groaned against his mouth.
"How do you want me?" Robby asked, pulling back just far enough to meet Jack's eyes. "I have ideas, but I'm also perfectly happy to let you direct."
Jack's brain scrambled for coherence. "I—"
"Because I spent three hours on the bike thinking about all the ways I could have you, and I've narrowed it down to about twelve, but I'm willing to take suggestions."
"You have a problem."
Robby's hand slid down, fingers brushing the inside of Jack's thigh. "Tell me what you want, Jack. I'll give you anything."
Jack shivered at the promise in those words. He thought about the way Robby looked earlier, spread out and shameless, and felt heat pool low in his belly.
"Earlier," he said, his voice rough. "I want you like you were earlier. On your back, me on top."
Robby's eyebrows rose. "You want to ride me."
"Problem?"
"Not at all." Robby's smile was slow and devastating. "I just like hearing you say it."
Robby rolled onto his back the movement fluid and graceful despite his size. He reached for Jack, pulling him closer, one hand already finding its way to the dip of his hip. "Come here. Let me get you ready."
Jack reached for the lube, but Robby's hand caught his wrist.
"Let me," Robby said again, softer this time. "Please."
Jack settled between Robby's spread legs. Robby's hands were steady as they worked, slick and careful, one finger circling his hole with practiced patience.
"Breathe," Robby murmured, pressing a kiss to Jack's shoulder. "I've got you."
"I know." Jack's voice was tight with anticipation. "I know you do."
Robby's finger slid inside, slow and gentle, and Jack let out a shaky exhale. Robby worked him open with that same patient rhythm, adding a second finger, a third, stretching him with the kind of expertise that came from practice and careful attention. Jack rocked back against his hand, chasing the pressure, and Robby's breath hitched.
"Jack, you have no idea what you do to me."
"Pretty sure I do." Jack's voice was strained. "You're about to— fuck—“
Robby's fingers found the spot and Jack's hips jerked up involuntarily. Robby grinned, that infuriatingly satisfied expression, that Jack had wanted to wipe off his face since the day they'd met.
"There?"
"Asshole."
"Mm. Get on top of me and say that."
Jack didn't need to be told twice. He shifted, straddling Robby's hips, the movement awkward for a moment before he could find his balance. Robby's hands settled on his waist, steadying him, and Jack reached back to guide Robby's cock to his entrance.
The head pressed against him, and Jack paused, letting himself feel the weight of it. Robby's eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. He looked wrecked already and Jack hadn't even done anything yet.
"You okay?" Robby asked, his voice rough as he waited.
Jack nodded and sank himself down. The stretch was familiar but intense, Robby's size pushing at his limits in the way that always made him gasp, especially after three months. He took it inch by inch, letting his body adjust, and Robby's hands tightened on his hips.
"I know." Jack's voice was strained. "I know. Just… give me a second."
Robby nodded, his jaw tight with the effort of keeping still. Jack could feel the tension in Robby’s thighs and in the way his stomach muscles quivered with restraint.
When Jack was fully seated, he paused, letting himself feel the fullness. Robby filled him completely, and for a moment they just breathed together, connected in the most intimate way possible.
"Okay," Jack whispered. "Okay."
He started to move, rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Robby's hands guided him, fingers pressing into the flesh of his hips, holding his weight. The angle was perfect, Robby's big dick hitting that spot inside him with every downward stroke, and Jack's head fell back with a groan.
"Look at me," Robby said. "Jack. Look at me."
Jack's eyes found his, and the intensity there stole his breath. Robby's face was open, raw, all pretense stripped away. This was the Robby that no one else got to see. Robby's hips thrust up to meet him, driving deeper, and Jack cried out. The rhythm built between them, frantic and desperate, three months of separation pouring into every movement. Jack's hand found his own cock, stroking in time with Robby's thrusts, and the dual sensation made his vision blur at the edges.
"Close," he managed. "Robby, I'm—"
"Cum for me." Robby's voice was a command and a plea. "Let me see you. Let me feel you."
Jack's whole body went tense. His orgasm ripped through him, sudden and overwhelming, his body clenching around Robby's cock as he came. Robby followed moments later, a broken groan escaping his lips, his hips thrusting up one final time before he stilled.
They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and spent desire. Jack's face was pressed into the curve of Robby's neck, and he could feel the rapid flutter of Robby's pulse beneath his lips. Robby's arms tightened around him.
"I really did miss you," Robby said quietly. "Not just this. All of it. Your grumpy morning face and the way you kick all the blankets off in the middle of the night."
Jack snorted. “It’s my bed."
"It's weird."
"You're weird."
"I'm in love with you." Robby pressed a kiss to the top of Jack's head. "Is that better?"
Jack smiled against his skin. "Marginally."
They lay in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the bed and each other's bodies lulling them toward sleep. Jack's eyes were heavy, his limbs pleasantly weighted, the 12 hours catching up to him fast.
"You know," Jack murmured, “Your sabbatical's almost over. You have to go back to work on Monday."
"Then I'll just have to make the most of the next few days." Robby's hand traced lazy patterns on Jack's back. "Starting with a shower. Then breakfast. Then round two and maybe three.”
"Round three," Jack repeated, not bothering to hide his smile. "You're insatiable."
Jack lifted his head up out of Robby’s shoulder. In the morning light, with his hair mussed and his face soft with contentment, Robby looked younger somehow. The trip had done him well, he looked happier now.
"Welcome home," Jack said softly.
Robby's smile was like sunrise. "It's good to be home."
