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Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x younger!reader

masterlist

Robby meets younger!reader on his sabbatical

warnings: older man x younger female (20s/50s). (M) body insecurities. M/F masturbation, separate, but together. PiV intercourse. unprotected sex. Mentions of suicide. Reader is very apparent in her attraction to the old man.

The salt heavy air filled Robby’s lungs as soon as he’d crossed the city’s boarder, it was even more present now as he was perched on his stationary motorcycle. Tired eyes traced the shoreline below him. Even from his position up high, he could see how clean the sand was. The water clear as it came in waves to lick at the shore. Countless families filled the beach, children’s happy squeals clouded the air, couples lingering here and there, surfers fighting the waves.

They were undeniably happy. Peaceful. Content.

Robby could only hope he might find the same levels of peace and tranquillity while he was on this trip. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the sight alone made him feel a little better. Definitely better than the dingy cabin in the woods he’d previously planned, where he had assumed he’d spend his final hours in. But his team—specifically Abbot—had seen through his facade easily. After a brief emotional breakdown, Jack had persuaded him to take some time off, “Just don’t spend it in the woods staring at bugs, man. Take a break, go to the beach, get some sun. Get a nice tan, while you’re at it, hell, kiss a girl, but come back to us in one piece, brother.”

As a matter of fact, Jack had been the one to recommend this beach, the hotel right across the street for complete convenience.

And as much as Robby would hate to admit it—and he hated to admit it—he felt a fraction better. The setting sun pleasantly warmed his skin. Sky painted pretty oranges and pinks. The air was light and clean, not the stuffy, polluted air of the city. And with no dire emergencies to rush into, for a moment at least, Robby was calm.

He could breathe.

He could think.

He could feel.

“I like your bike.”

He also, apparently no longer had spacial awareness, as the voice suddenly appearing beside him nearly threw him off said bike.

Hair slightly damp and messed from the breeze, bikini top giving Robby a full eyeful of exposed skin, and shorts that presumably were covering the bottoms of your set—it was obvious you’d come from your own trip down to the beach. Soft eyes, even softer skin. Undeniably pretty. And that smile.

And young. The thought crossed his mind at the speed of light. Too young for a man on the wrong side of 50.

He shook his head as the thought passed through him. Why would you even think of that?

You took in the disheveled man with obvious entertainment on your face. A coy smile tugging at your lips as Robby quickly gave you a once-over while trying to still his racing heart, before averting his eyes in an attempt to not look like he’d just checked you out.

The speed that Robby turned his head in your direction had tugged uncomfortably at a muscle in his neck, he rubbed at it with a wince while failing to throw words together.

“Eh, thanks, uh, yeah.” Robby swore at the way he’d tripped over his words. You sound like a nervous teen, get it together. Yanking the keys from the ignition, he less than gracefully found his footing on solid land. Fumbling with the keys, he glanced back and forth from you to the hotel, and back, a slight pinch in his brows. “Did you, uh, need something?”

“Nope.” You shrugged, lips popping the ‘p’. “Saw the cool bike, then the handsome rider sitting there for an unusual amount of time and thought, ‘I might as well say hi’, y’know? So…hi.”

That alone threw Robby into a dumbfounded silence, mind racing to keep up with whatever game you were trying to play. But handsome? That had baffled him. Sure, Robby had fancied himself good looking in his prime, but now? With hair thinning, graying beard, and a soft gut, he knew he wasn’t exactly the picture perfect definition of handsome. Let alone to a—he estimated—twenty-something pretty thing like you.

I must be about to get robbed.

“Handsome.” Robby snorted, like the concept offended him. “Listen, kid—“

“I’m not a kid.” You quipped, before quickly adding. “I’m in collage.”

“Riiight. Okay, maybe you’re not a kid, kid. But c’mon,” Robby gestured between yourself and him, not missing the way your eyes tracked his large hands, long fingers, thick, exposed forearm from his sleeves being pushed up. “You’re a kid to me.”

He couldn’t sound less convincing if he tried.

And if your smile deepening was anything to go by, he wasn’t fooling you either.

“Well,” You’d hummed, gliding around the only barrier between you two, the bike, and all but pressing up against Robby. “If you get lonely, this kid is staying in A27. Y’know, if you need help crossing the road, or something. ‘Kay?”

You’d kept a light, teasing tone this whole time. But now, with you right up on him, it’d drop into a low, sensual whisper that despite Robby’s attempts to ignore, couldn’t fight the way his cock twitched to life in his jeans.

Without waiting for an answer, you’d turned and Robby could only say you strutted back to the hotel, soft hips purposefully swishing like you knew his gaze would be glued to your ass no matter what excuses were pouring from his mouth.

Robby thanked the gods that made denim jeans. Pushing down the guilt building in his stomach, he tugged at the uncomfortable fabric to hide the growing bulge before he traumatized the check-in clerk.

I should have went to the damned cabin.

The lobby was as basic as it comes, Robby noted as he approached the counter, the proximity to the beach having an obvious effect on the decor choices. Little shells were placed carefully here and there along the counter, a little figurine holding a surf board here, a decorative plant there. An older woman came from a back room, clicking at the computer quickly before dropping her gaze to Robby.

“Welcome, checking in?” The clerk asked, voice artificial but chipper. Robby nodded, still looking around the room.

“Yeah, uh, it’s under Robinavitch.”

“R-o-b-i-n—ah, here it is.” Some more clicking, before she turned to a small board filled with keys. Plucking one from the collection, she slid them across the counter. “You’re in A28, just had the room prepped an hour before your arrival. Enjoy your stay.”

Keys weighing heavy in his hand, your teasing words rang in his mind again.

“This kid, is staying in A27.”

We’ll be neighbors. How do you like that?

Being on the first floor, his final journey was brief. Finding his room, Robby paused, key in the lock, and let himself be weak. Just for a moment, his eyes drifted to the next room down, where he knew you’d sauntered back into. And for a second, just a second, his mind drifted to what you could be doing in there by yourself.

Were you by yourself? Did you come with friends? Why offer your…attention if you didn’t have the room to yourself? Robby physically shook the thought. That doesn’t matter—don’t think about it.

Twisting the key, Robby threw the door open. Once inside, shutting it behind him with the same unnecessary force, slamming it shut. Shrugging his bag off his shoulder, his jacket following, letting the weight fall off him as he took in the room.

Obnoxiously bright white filled every corner of the room. Carpet, walls, pillows, blankets. Hell, even the table and dresser were in a light wood finish. The same vacant beach decor sprinkled around the room in small doses. Large glass windows covered the wall furthest from the door, allowing a beautiful view of the beach and the sun setting upon the water.

Even with all of the blinding whites, the thing Robby immediately noticed was the bed, pushed up against the wall your two rooms shared. Laid out on the bed, perfectly arranged, was a gift basket surrounded by petals in the shape of a heart.

With further investigation, Robby found the basket was full of all sorts of goodies, for lack of better terms. Robby’s brows pinched together further and further with each item he pulled out. Lotions—some regular scented, some heating, some cooling—candles, chocolates, mini bottles of champagne, and condoms.

Like he was on his goddamned honeymoon, and not a “please don’t kill yourself” vacation.

I’m going to kill Jack. Push him right off the fucking roof.

With a huff, Robby shoved all the ‘gifts’ back into the basket and set it aside. Swiping all the stray petals off the bed to the floor without a care, he all but flung himself on the empty bed. A low groan filled the room as his body sunk into the cloud-like softness his aching body clearly needed. And clearly, years of exhaustion had finally caught up to Robby as he felt himself tipping over the edge into unconsciousness as quickly as he did.

04:32

Robby’s limbs felt like lead, as he lurched out of his deep sleep. Sweat soaked his shirt, his mouth dry.

The deep red numbers on the digital clock glared back at him from across the room. Whatever sweet dream he’d been having was long forgotten, replaced with confusion at what had pulled Robby from his slumber.

The room remained as silent as it was when Robby walked through the door. Only the gentle glow of the half-phased moon floating through closed curtains. On all accounts, nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing worth waking up for.

“—Ah, fuck—”

Robby’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, hearing the muffled cursing. Shifting in bed, he’d barely turned his ear towards the head of the bed, before the next came.

“—oh my god—”

It was obviously coming from the neighboring room—your room, Robby’s mind corrected—the sweet tune reached his ears. Clogging his mind. Despite the wall between you, it sounding like you were right there.

Our beds must be pushed against the same wall.

Against his will, Robby’s pulse picked up, the blood pumping in his ears—and straight to his dick—with each and every one of sweet sounds drifting towards him.

You’re touching yourself. Robby swallowed hard at the realizations. The lack of a second voice confirmed as much. He could see you. Hair fussed up as you wiggle around the sheets. Hand stuffed between your thighs. Determination pinching your face while you desperately try to get yourself off. Robby blinked hard, forcing the imagine out of his mind, even while he felt his cock responding to your cries. Jesus Christ.

Robby’s barely existing resolve crumbled. Fumbling hands dipped below the sheets, yanking his jeans down just far enough he could grasp his hard length in his own hand.

“—please, fuck, please—”

You sound so distraught, Robby decided as he founding himself moving to sink his knees into the plush mattress. Subconsciously inched closer to your shared barrier, all while fucking his fist. If he tried any harder, he’d be pressing his ear to the drywall. He could hear the desperation, the frustration in your every cry—if he really strained his ears, Robby could hear you sniffing pathetically between each moan when the realization—you were crying.

Can’t reach the right spot, can you? Robby’s traitorous thoughts spiraled. But he was well past self restraint now, as he paused long enough to spit in his hand, sighing from the ease in movement it brought. Poor thing, hands too small to reach all the good places, huh? Need a real man’s help…

“—fuck, I can’t—”

With each moan, curse and cry, Robby’s imagination went to work as he tried to picture something warm, something wet and tight squeezing his length in tune with your moans, instead of the reality of his rough palm.

Those little fingers won’t help, won’t get you where you want, where you need to be. Robby’s jaw clenched, tightening his grip with each stroke, twisting and squeezing. Hunched over, Robby’s forehead met the wall, searching out something stable all the while he climbed towards the edge. His lungs burned from trying to keep his own cries in, muffling his own moans and grunts, god forbid you hear him the way he’s hearing you.

His wrist ached from relentless pace Robby set, desperately searching for a release he hadn’t realized he’d neglected for so long. Beads of precum glistening at the tip. Need something real in you, to fill you up. The way you need. Fill you the way you deserve.

“—goddammit!—”

“Fuck!”

The guttural groan ripped itself from his lips before he could contain it, body tense as he released. Weeks of pent up cum oozed over his first, spurts landing on the pristine pillow and your shared wall. Pleasure shooting through every vein in his body as Robby fought to catch his breath and his bearings.

The clarity hit him almost instantly, as he glared down at his hand, and the ruined linen, let alone the wall he’d have to clean before the poor housekeeper discovered his nightly activities. Disgust clawed its way back into his mind.

Who listens to a young girl try—and fail—to masturbate, through the walls!? Robby frowned. Who jerks off to a young girl masturbating through the walls. A pervert, that’s who. What’s wrong with you?

Then, it washed over him like cold water, you were quiet. Robby gut twisted, he desperately wanted you to say something. Moan. Swear. Cry. Anything, to let him know you hadn’t heard him. But he was met with complete silence on the other side of the wall. Not even the creak of a bed, to sooth his mind.

You’d heard him.

Without a doubt.

You’d heard him, groaning in pleasure, at your distress.

You’d flirted with him, sure. But playing grown up and teasing an old man, and knowing that old man had touched his dick to you in the next room over were two completely different scenarios.

Briefly, Robby considered drowning himself in the tub to avoid ever having to leave this room and risk facing you.

With a scowl, he wiped his hand on the already ruined pillow and discarded it to the floor with the wasted petals. Flopping back down on the bed with a light ‘oof’, Robby let his eyes wander back to the clock.

04:41

You’re disgusting.

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgu—

His racing mind nearly blocked out the soft rapping at his door. Nearly. His neck ached as Robby’s head snapped in its direction. Silence followed again, and for a moment Robby began convincing himself he’d imagined it—until it came again. Soft. Rhythmic. But undeniably there.

Please god. Don’t do this to me.

Robby prayed, and briefly considering not answering. But the knock came again, no louder than the first round, but all the same insistence. Refusal to be ignored, to be dismissed. It lured him from his shameful nest.

Robby’s breath stilled as he settled his palm over the door handle, mentally counting to ten before facing his shame, facing you. With a heavy hand, he barely opened the door, the hallway light flooding through the crack and illuminating his weathered face.

I’m already dead. Robby blinked dumbly at you. You, who hovered outside his door, face still flushed from your failure to get yourself off. You, who’s cheeks still shined from trails of tears. You, who wore nothing but a tiny sleep shirt and the skimpiest panties Robby could fathom, wetness visible from where he stood. I did it, and I’m dead, and I’m in hell.

Heat ran up Robby’s neck when you closed in on the cracked door, wet eyes finding his, and with the most pathetic, mournful, sweet voice, whispered, “Gonna let me in?”

Robby tried to say no, he tried.

But in all his years, he’d never had such a tempting sight laid at his feet.

And he didn’t want anyone else to see the crying, half naked, pretty young thing in such a state of undress, is what he tells himself as he steps back, door opening enough for you to slip inside. Darkness swallowed both of you up as Robby shut the door behind you, the only indication he wasn’t alone being your shallow breathing that told him you were closing in on him.

Small hands bumped along thick thighs until you could tell exactly where you were touching in the dark, then turned confident, more sure in their movement. Robby tried in vain to suck in as you pawed at his less than toned stomach, before moving up to tease at the collar of his shirt, over broad shoulders until they clasped behind his neck, fingers sinking into soft hair as you guided him down to your waiting lips.

Trembling, nervous lips moved against your sure ones—Robby could tell his beard was tickling you, if the way your lips curled up into tiny smiles at times was anything to go by—happy, content sighs and half formed giggles slipping between kisses.

Robby’s whole body hummed to life when you pressed against him. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers aching to dig into the soft flesh. Robby’s mind still fighting him even though he’d already lost—you were already in his room, kissing him like you were lost lovers after all—but he tries to pretend he still had morals. That he had the principles of a man not too far from being on Medicare.

Yet, all those reasons went out the window when you’d nibbles on his lip, sweet-as-candy tongue curling against his own.

The deepest sigh escaped Robby, his body folding to lean down further into you as strong arms curled around you, fingers digging into the plush of your ass as Robby yanked you as close to his as possible. Your surprised shriek against his mouth sent shocks straight to his cock, before a fit of giggles left you. You could feel him twitching against your stomach with each kiss, each twist of your supple body against his, you felt the hardness growing, trapped between you.

One hand abandoning its grip on Robby’s neck, quickly found its way slipping beneath the waistline of his jeans. The angle awkward, the fabric unforgiving, but Robby choked on a moan all the same, feeling your fingers curl around his cock, squeezing and massaging as you panted against his lips. So caught up in your touch, in your lips, Robby damn near missed what you whispered into his mouth.

“Never seen someone get so hard again so fast…” You sighed, twisting your wrist as best as you could from the trapped position, relishing in the guttural groan you received. “Y’not so old, are you?”

Your teasing should have had shame burning through Robby, but with you in his arms, your hand down his pants, Robby was pretty damned proud of that fact too.

The smallest fire of confidence shot through his veins, and surprisingly both of you, Robby’s huge hands cupped your thighs and lifted.

Tucking you against him, Robby stumbled through the dark until his knees hit the edge of the bed, both of you crumbling onto the soft sheets. He’d tried to break the fall, but you took the brunt of his heavy frame, a soft ‘ooof’ flew from you.

“M’sorry, sorry.” Robby huffed against your cheek, nose trailing over the soft skin.

“S’okay,’ Your soft laugh clouded his mind. You scooted further up the bed, death grip on Robby’s shirt collar, guiding him. “C’mere.”

Robby would let you lead him off the edge of the world, if you asked him, but for now he let you gently rearrange him—guiding him to lay back against the disarrayed pillows before settling between his spread legs.

Kissing was apparently in Robby’s ‘okay to do’ book, you decided. But as you hooked your fingers in the waist band of his jeans and started wiggling them down his thick, hairy thighs, you could see the hesitancy slowly taking over his body again. Flushed face pinched in conflict, Robby’s eyes bounced everywhere but yours.

“Jeez, relax,” Your cooing would be condescending if it wasn’t followed by gentle, tender hands massaging all Robby’s worries from the tensed muscles. “You can’t be that nervous around a girl, can you? You’re not a virgin, are you?”

That got his attention, Robby choked on his words, sputtering a pathetic, “Jesus, you can’t just…say stuff like that!”

“Why?” You traced a nail gently down the barely hidden erection in his boxers, giggling as it twitched under the fabric.“Wait—was I right, are you!?”

“No!” Robby yelped, his hands finding home on your hips as he sat up, trying to regain some footing, coming face-to-face with you again. “Listen, kid—”

“I’m not a kid.” You stated, without room to negotiate. “Or, a virgin, for that matter.”

“It doesn’t matter—listen!” Robby hissed. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, whatever….you think you want? This? You don’t.”

“I’m not playing at anything.” You voice lost all its teasing, hearing the insecurities in Robby’s voice. “Well…I’d like to play with something.”

“You—“ Robby chuckled, a tired sound that was drowned under the hand he dragged over his face. “I don’t think you even know what you’re asking, shouldn’t you be chasing around someone…more your age? You’re a pretty girl. Find, I don’t know, find a nice surfer boy.”

“‘A nice surfer boy’?” You raised an eyebrow, pure amusement clouding your eyes. “Well, the nice surfer boys aren’t my type. I like my men a little more…experienced.”

“Look—“ Robby started, the words dying in his throat as you placed a palm on his chest and pushed, flattening him back to the mattress.

“No, you look,” You loomed over him. “I’m not a dumb little kid, okay? Don’t treat me like one.”

“I’m not—“

“You are.” You snipped. “I know what I like. I know what I want. And—”

Robby’s mouth went dry as you leaned in.

“I heard you. So it’s okay to jerk off to me, but you can’t fuck me?”

“I shouldn’t have—“

“Do you wanna know what I was thinking about?” You cooed, soft lips brushing the shell of his ear.

Against his best interest, Robby let a quiet ‘yes’ fall from his lips.

“I was thinking about this handsome man I met, looked so good on his motorcycle…couldn’t wait to run inside and touch myself…” You hummed, teasingly nibbling his earlobe, relishing in the low groan and tightening grip on your waist. “Thought about those strong, thick, long fingers in me, but I couldn’t reach. Hurt so bad, no matter what I did, it wasn’t gonna compare.”

You fake pouted with a sniffle, really selling the scene as you gripped Robby’s boxers. “But…I knew my sweet neighbor would be able to help me…”

Before he could protest—honestly, would Robby even try to pretend anymore?—the dark checkered patterned fabric was gone and forgotten over the side of the bed. Followed by your breathless, “Fuck.”

For the first time since, whatever this was, began, Robby’s head filled with pride. For all his faults, all his shortcomings, all his failures—Robby knew his dick wasn’t one of them.

“I knew it’d be big,” You mused quietly, fingers curling around the thick length now unrestrained. “You walk like it’s heavy—but Jesus Christ.”

The tiniest arrogant smile tugged at his lips, “Yeah? You….like it?”

Transfixed, greedy eyes soaked everything in. Coarse salt-n-pepper hair kept moderately neat surrounded him, disappearing into a trail beneath his shirt. Thick, heavy in your hand, the pretty deep red tip already weeping clear tears as you slowly twisted your fist. “Mhmm. I love it.”

Descending on him again, you smashed your lips back to his—sloppier, messier—while you fully settled your weight in his lap. Robby felt himself short-circuiting in real time. The heat from your core pressing against his cock. The delicious drag of your soaking wet lacy panties brushing against his sensitive tip with each buck of yours against his. And god, your little moans and breathless sighs, leagues away from the pathetic whining you’d given him through the walls.

Robby thanked whatever god was listening that he’d already got one out of the chamber, or he was positive he’d already have embarrassed himself with premature ejaculation.

More focused hands gripped your ass, fingers digging into the fat so hard Robby was sure he’d leave prints behind, he guided your movements. Pacing your desperate grinding into something stable, something more consistent, with more pressure. Robby’s hips bucked to meet you half-way, pulling at the plush of your ass until the tips of his fingers could poke and prod at your lace-covered-entrance.

“Feel s’good…” You panted, brain spiraling between wanting to push back against Robby’s fingers, or grind down harder against his crotch. The pressure built. Each roll of your hips growing more desperate, more determined as you chased the high you’d failed to give yourself earlier until you were shuddering in Robby’s lap, cries muffled against his bruised lips, more wetness pooling beneath Robby’s fingers.

Your quick recovery oozed of your youth, Robby thought. You’d briefly melted against him, hips still twitching wildly before your mind cleared again and set a new goal—your fingers inching their way beneath his shirt.

“Off,” You muttered against his lips, voice laced with pure lust, pulling at the hem of his shirt, “Take this off.”

Lips parting with an audible ‘pop’ as you leaned back, settling comfortably on Robby’s thick thighs. Curious hands softly brushing the hidden skin while you waited for Robby to make his move.

You could see the insecurity quietly flooding his kind eyes, a million thoughts running wildly in his tortured mind.

I haven’t worked out in—…well, ever.

I don’t exactly eat well…

Haven’t trimmed up in ages…

So much graying hai—

“Hey,” Your soft voice broke Robby’s racing thoughts, gentle fingers all but petting his beard, drawing his attention back. “I just wanna see you, okay?”

Hesitation slowed Robby’s movements but he tugged the fabric over his head regardless, disheveling his hair even more than your nimble fingers had managed. Quickly, Robby tried to sooth the messy strands back into place with shaky hands; chin tucked to his chest, unwilling to meet your gaze.

His eyes pinched shut when he heard you draw in a quick breath, mentally preparing for you to clamber off his lap, to apologize for bothering him, and discard whatever minuscule attraction you’d had for this old man.

You took in the newly exposed skin with your bottom lip locked between your teeth. Broad shoulders. Firm biceps hidden beneath a layer of fat. Soft stomach from way to many nights of takeout with no time to cook. The silver hair spanning across his chest, narrowing into the appropriately named happy trail leading to the most perfect cock you could imagine.

“S’handsome.”

What?

“Huh?” Robby’s eyes snapped open, unable to stop the confused sound flying from his mouth. He barely glanced down at his own bare chest before locking his eyes on you. Prettiest fucking sight Robby’d seen in a long time—hair an absolute mess, face flushed, lips swollen and chin all pink from rubbing against his beard, pupils blown out—and you thought this worn down body was handsome? “Really?”

“Mhm, y’look like a real man, not a little surfer boy.” You grinned at his dumbfounded face, shuffling awkwardly in his lap to discard your ruined. Relishing in the way Robby’s eyes followed your every movement, until your bare pussy settled against his cock. “So…are you gonna fuck me now? Or should I go back down to the beach?”

Who needs morals? Robby conceded, arms locking around your waist and slamming you into the bed as he claimed his position above you. Robby’s shaky hand grasped his own length, swiping the weeping head through your folds, collecting the wetness before notching his tip at your entrance.

Heart racing, he paused long enough to meet your eyes, a single arched brow as if to ask ‘are you sure?’ You cheekily pushed your hips up in reply.

Fuck it.

Robby swore lowly as he pressed on, fat tip slowly splitting you open as he sunk into your wet heat. As much as he wanted to pinch his eyes shut, trying not to cum immediately, Robby refused to miss even a second of your reaction—hypnotized by the way your mouth dropped open in pleasure, the tiniest, breathless moans spilling from sinful lips as your eyebrows scrunched.

“Oh my god—“ You cried, legs falling open, trying to make room for Robby’s heavy form, hands flying to clutch at his neck. “Fuck!”

“Fuckin’ perfect—“ Robby’s grunts, rocking his hips, forcing another few inches in you. “Most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen…”

You preened at his words, tugging him closer impatiently, “S’big, more, please, I need more!”

Robby damn near folded himself over you, forearms caged in either side of your head, his hips flush against yours, every throbbing inch buried in your core.

Heaven. Robby’s mind corrected. This is Heaven.

He tried to still himself, let you adjust to the thickness that he could see bulging your stomach when Robby peaked downwards, unable to resist the drawl of seeing himself buried to the hilt.

He tried.

But your restless squirming, trying your best to buck your hips from your pinned position—who was Robby to deny you?

He didn’t have the stamina—or the joints, for that matter—to be fast, but he could do hard.

Withdrawing barely half-way, Robby slid back home with a firm, harsh thrust. A dull slap! of skin echoed in the air, along with your delighted moan.

“Like that, baby?” Robby fished for praise, like a dog begging for scraps. “Feel good?”

“Yes!”

A satisfied smile curled it’s way on Robby’s lips, feeling more sure of himself with each moan you repaid him with. He seized one leg, pinning it over his forearm and spreading you open.

Bodies crashed into each other so harshly Robby was certain you wouldn’t be walking the next day. But the way you shouted in pleasure—until he shoved a sweaty palm over your mouth, Robby wasn’t about to get a noise complaint—he bet that was your end goal anyways.

Robby could feel your peak coming before your muffled pleading alerted him to it—he could see your stomach flexing. Feel your insides tightening, strangling his cock and making it that much harder to withdraw. Forcing Robby to switch to short, sharp thrusts that hammered away at that spongey spot that had you drooling beneath his palm, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your spasming dragged Robby to his own release. Groaning deep and low, Robby swore breathlessly as he spilled for the second time tonight.

Satiated, Robby collapsed, squishing you beneath his weight—not that you seemed to mind—burying his nose against your temple while you pressed mindless kisses to whatever skin you could reach. Once he could breathe again, Robby gently rearranged you both. Settling back against the pillows, you tucked into his side, contently playing with his chest hairs.

“Thank you.” The words spilled from his lips before he could stop, barely above a whisper.

You blinked up him curiously. “For?”

“That’s…” Robby swallowed. “That’s the most normal I’ve felt in—god I don’t even know—a while.”

“…Got a lot of stress back home?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Robby snorted, a tired, sad sound. “Sort of comes with the territory though, just…sometimes it’s too much.”

“Job?”

“I’m a doctor.” Robby nodded to himself, like he needed to confirm the thought. “Chief attending.”

“Impressive.” You gave a small smile. “Big man in charge, huh?”

“Yeah…means it all falls on me.” Robby whispered. “All the good, and the bad—mostly bad—I have to carry it all.”

“Is that…why you’re here?” You questioned. “Too much to handle, needed some off time?”

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here.” Robby shook his head, “I was supposed to—a friend convinced me to change destinations last minute, said it’d be better for me.”

“Was it?”

Robby glanced down at you curled into his side.

“Yeah,” He smiled softly. “It was.”

The PTMC loomed larger than life over Robby as he watched a sea of people flowing in and out from a safe distance, on the other side of the street. For the first time, in a long time, Robby felt light as air. Like a weight he didn’t know he was being crushed under had lifted. And for a moment, however brief, Robby thought, ‘Whatever happens in there, whatever chaos, I feel alright. I’m okay.’ Shaking off the nervous of his first day back, he hiked his pack higher on his shoulder, and crossed into the threshold.

The place was the same as he’d left it—short staffed, short on beds, ridiculous wait times—but Robby felt different this time.

Dana was the first to spot him, as he approached the nurses’ desk.

“Well, look who returned!” Cheerful, boisterous, welcoming as if he never left. “Look at you, did’ya get a face lift while you were gone!”

Robby could feel the heat spreading up his neck as he laughed, ignoring the comment to hug the nurse.

“I’ll ignore the implications that I looked like shit before I left, but thank you.” Robby’s eyes bouncing around, looking for someone. “Where’s Abbot?”

“Oh, y’know, the usual.” Dana patted his chest in parting, glancing at the patient lists. “Gettin’ some air, should be down for rounds soon. So, how was the vacation? Where’d you, what’d you do?”

“I’ll give you all the gorey details later, I’m just gonna—“ Robby started backwards, pointing upwards. “Gonna go find him.”

“I’m countin’ on it!” Dana shouted at his retreating back.

Robby took the stairs, two at a time, despite the protest in his knees, until he flung the door to the roof open.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, man.” Robby called out, approaching Abbot’s back. “My knees can’t handle the climb.”

“Didn’t take my advice for yoga while you were gone, then, did you?”

“I didn’t feel like joining the neighborhood’s watch list.” Robby shook his head. “Got up to enough trouble as it was, didn’t wanna add nude yoga to the roster.”

“I never said it had to be nude.” Abbot countered, ducking under the boarder wires to join Robby. He gave Robby a once over. “Well, you came back with all your limbs, that’s good. I don’t think I’d like to share the ‘cool doctor missing a limb’ title just yet.”

“Got a tan.” Robby offered, “The sun was nice, I really owe you…for getting me to change local.”

“No problem.” Abbot shrugged, not trying to take any credit in Robby deciding his life was worth living with a little push, “Some color will do you good, for a while the students were saying you weren’t really the attending, just haunting the hos —“

“Kissed a girl, too.” Robby threw out quickly, relishing in the the humor dropped from Abbots face as the words washed over him.

“Shit, brother, good for you.” Abbot laughed, smacking his hand down on Robby’s shoulder. “You gonna tell me, or do I gotta force it outta you?”

Robby nodding, laughing with his friend while reminiscing on his time with you, “Oh, I’ll tell you everything. Drinks tonight? I don’t think you’ll believe me sober…”

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