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“All I’m saying is you’re too tense, like a fucking deer in the road just waiting to be run over.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” mumbled Dennis in acknowledgment. His eyebrows tensed together a beat later, the full weight of Trinity’s statement finally hitting him. He couldn’t say he particularly liked that image of himself: petrified in fear on a dark country road, blinding LEDs growing brighter with a truck’s approach. The phantom impact sent a shiver through him, exacerbating the thrumming ache in his skull. “I’m working on it.”
Trinity scoffed, bumping his shoulder with her hip from where she leaned against his workstation.
“Bullshit,” she said. “I don’t think you’d even know how to relax. You’re like the poster boy for heightened cortisol.”
Not true, he wanted to say, but even he couldn’t manage the attempt at a lie. Across his too-bright screen, patient case reports blurred together into an insurmountable wall of text. Massaging circles into his aching jaw, he tried and failed to blink through the headache blurring his vision.
His attention flicked upwards to the quiet ward, desperate for something to distract himself. It was turning out to be an eerily peaceful evening in the ED, and against the voice of his conscience, he wished some poor victim of a freak accident could be whisked right in through the emergency doors.
Anything to draw his attention away from this fucking pain.
“Come on.” Trinity nudged him again. “Lucky for you, stress is a pretty easy thing to treat. Go home, take a shower, pack a b-”
“What’s going on?”
Dennis startled so hard that his knee slammed up into the underside of his desk. Everything atop the workstation rattled loudly, drawing attention from across the entire department. He attempted to cower from the stares thrown over shoulders, hand rubbing frantically over his knee where stinging shocks of pain zipped up his leg.
At the very least, he thought as he suppressed the moisture rising to his eyes, the impact surpassed the pain in his jaw. For a single minute.
“Jesus, Huckleberry!” Trinity said, laughing, probably embarrassed to even be seen with him.
Who wouldn’t be, he thought as fantasies of crawling into a hole where no one could see him surfaced and died off without hope. With a hiss he released his knee, and tried his best to hide his misery as he turned his chair to face the source of his newest agony.
Dr. Robby. Just behind him, soft smiled and rocking back on his heels in wait of a med student who could adequately navigate a single day of his life.
His hoodie sleeves had been pushed up to reveal the muscled stretch of his forearms. The overhead fluorescents reflected bright off the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
The sight of him looking like that only made Dennis feel a thousand times worse.
“What’s going on?” Robby asked again, gentle despite the undercurrent of expectation within his voice.
“Nothing,” said Dennis immediately. Awkward and clumsy like the proverbial deer, he stood quick out of his chair to try and bring himself to Robby’s level. Only to back away when he realized how close it brought them together. The back of his thighs dug hard into the edge of his workstation, hands fumbling on the ledge for some kind of purchase. “Just, nothing. Is there anything you need?”
Heat curled beneath his collar as the squeaking sound of that stupid question echoed in his head. Anything the patients need, he should have asked.
Robby let him off easy, at least, with only a raised brow to accompany his smile. “We’re okay for right now, God knows what kind of miracle it took to keep the place this empty all night. Miss Ekubo’s heart rate has stabilized since the epinephrine, Mr. Wright’s blood ox is rising, and Mel’s watching over the two girls in 12. Everyone’s taken care of.”
Dennis nodded along with the rundown, a tangled bundle of tension in his gut easing away. It never did him good, feeling lazy, or careless, or useless, or-
“How about you?” Robby asked, his fingertips tapping Dennis’ elbow. “You’ve been distracted all shift. Something going on?”
“No!”
The instant denial escaped him much quicker and far louder than intended, drawing a sharp look from a passing RN. Again, he wished he could just crawl into a supply closet and stew in his own misery, but he managed to swallow the feeling down and look back up at Robby. “No. No, I’m alright,” he said with a frantic nod.
The frown he received in return for this lie burned hotter than any reprimand, and he studied the scuffs on his shoes with an airy sigh.
“It’s nothing serious, just some jaw pain that I’ve been dealing with. TMJ issues, that’s all, but I promise, sir, I have it completely under control, I swear.”
“Hm.” The hum of acknowledgment only made Dennis’ shoulders curl further inward. In his periphery, Robby’s forearms flexed as he crossed them over his chest. “Any kind of chronic pain is something to be addressed, especially if it’s going to distract you from your-“
Dennis rushed to defend himself, “It’s not distracting me, I swear!”
“Ah,” this single noise from Robby, along with an outstretched palm, silenced him. “You know that we have to maintain focus in emergency care, Whitaker, and if a potential distraction can be eliminated, then it’s vital we do so. How long has this been going on?”
The threat of an oncoming lecture weighed heavy on Dennis, and his molars clenched together despite the pulse of pain it awakened beside his ear. “A while.”
“Okay…and how long is awhile?” Robby asked, as though coaxing answers from a child.
The rattle of a sanitation cart being pushed past them drew Dennis’ gaze away from Robby again. Might as well come out with it, then.
“Since sophomore year,” he admitted. “Minor aches and pains, nocturnal bruxism, jaw trismus, but that’s it. I’m dealing with it,” he repeated, another compulsive lie to overcompensate for the embarrassment of his confession.
“You-” Robby spit the word out, his shock shuttered by a short inhale and his hands pressing together before his chest. “Trismus? You’ve been dealing with a locked jaw for what, seven years? And you haven’t even thought to get this treated?”
The obvious tightening of Robby’s voice, like a whitened fist wrapped around taut reins, only made Dennis curl further into himself.
It wasn’t his fault. The past decade of his life had been spent without health insurance, let alone dental coverage, and it wasn’t like he could have ever afforded to pay for something so frivolous out of pocket. The whole jaw thing wasn’t killing him, so what was the harm?
Something told him Dr. Robby wouldn’t see it that way.
He peeked up from beneath his lowered brow to find Robby glaring down at him, shaking his head in what could only be bewilderment. And disappointment. And anger. Don’t, Dennis commanded himself as his throat constricted painfully around the emotion rising to wet his eyes.
Christ, he prayed Trinity had gotten bored and walked away by now. He couldn’t handle anyone else witnessing how fucking pathetic he could get.
“It’s not that bad,” he muttered as his final, wobbling defense.
From above him, the controlled shake of Robby’s sigh echoed louder than a symphony. His hands fell to his sides, fists unclenching, and a rush of panic made Dennis’ chest tighten.
He’s given up on you, taunted the worst of his fears. It had to happen eventually.
“Alright, come on.”
The violent torrent tearing holes in Dennis’ composure disappeared instantly. His chin jerked upwards, and he watched as Robby turned to reveal the breadth of his back. “Huh?”
“Come on,” he instructed again and walked away from the workstations without a glance back. Dennis stumbled forward a single step to follow, until his senses caught up with his instincts.
“Where are you going?” he asked, voice thin.
“We,” Robby corrected as he stretched a hand back to wrangle Dennis’ shoulder within his hold and tug him forward, “are going to an exam room. I’m not going to allow a chronic, debilitating condition to go undiagnosed and untreated in my Pitt, especially to a member of the team.”
Unable to resist, Dennis followed the too-quick steps of his attending pushing him toward an empty examination room. Desperate for some way to escape, he glanced back over his shoulder with wide eyes at Trinity. Her thinly veiled smirk and casual shrug immediately squashed this last hope.
A total and complete resignation to his fate fell over Dennis, a hard exhale escaping his lips. He looked up at Robby, searching for some way to dodge the eminent humiliation under his boss’ hands.
“It’s not debilitating, I promise. Like I said, I’m fine.”
The hand on his shoulder tugged him out of Nurse Evans’ way as she passed by, and his cheeks grew hot when the movement left him pressed against Robby’s ribs. Robby’s arm rested heavy along his back. When Robby tilted his head downwards to connect their eyes, he felt his knees weaken nearly to the point of collapse.
“Oh yeah?” Robby shook him gently. “Open your jaw wider than a pencil and maybe I’ll believe you.”
Dennis’ chin jerked back, and he looked to the floor tiles passing underfoot. A pencil was a bit dramatic, but the point stung enough to silence him. It would be nice, maybe…to be able to eat, or talk, or even sleep without all the pain and inconvenience.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Robby said. “Now, come on. We’ll get your mouth open.”
God, help me. Dennis swallowed hard around the saliva pooling beneath his tongue, and followed Robby’s direction into a vacant room. The click of the door sliding shut behind them sounded like the ring of his own damnation.
“Go ahead and sit down for me, Mr. Whitaker,” Robby instructed him as he pulled the blinds shut over the window to the ward. For all the dread choking him from the inside out, Dennis couldn’t help but chuckle along with the little play at him being Dr. Robby’s patient.
The cheap, industry-standard sheets squealed beneath his thighs as he perched on the hospital bed’s edge, the material rustling with every shuffle to get himself comfortable—an impossible task. The grating sound reminded him of nights curled atop a bed quite like this one, stiff and lonely.
The memory alone made his jaw ache, and he stretched his neck to the side in a fruitless effort to ease the pain way.
“Alright,” Robby began. The single word caught Dennis’ attention, and he looked up only to flush violently as the older man walked to stand directly in front of him, practically locked between his spread knees. This close, he had to crane his neck back to make eye contact.
Oblivious to the ongoing crisis before him, Robby rubbed his palms together. “Nothing too complicated about this. I’m just going to perform a digital examination of the joint and the surrounding tissue to search for any obvious issues, then try my best to find a solution that’ll improve your condition and range of motion. But without a CT scan I can’t promise a thorough diagnosis, alright?”
Dennis nodded, and averted his eyes downward to escape the intensity of Robby’s undivided attention. He stared at the chest in front of him. Close enough to touch, navy cotton shifted beneath the metal diaphragm of a stethoscope. Robby’s arm moved into his line of vision, revealing hair, and muscle, and skin dotted with the freckles of age.
Saliva cloyed to Dennis’ throat, and he swallowed hard around it.
“Good.” With this single acknowledgment, strong hands settled along the soft curves of Dennis’ face. It wasn’t until Robby’s fingers guided his chin up, their widened eyes connecting, that he realized he’d gasped with the contact. “Too cold?”
“No.” He shook his head, at least to the best of his ability with two hands holding him steady. “I’m okay.”
Robby smiled, and graciously ignored the weak wobble in Dennis’ voice. If he could ever figure out how to act like a normal, functioning adult human in front of his boss, this job would get a whole lot easier.
“Okay. Just let me know if anything stings while I’m poking around,” he said. Immediately, the soft look in his gaze fell as the focus of a professional overtook him. His grip on Dennis’ face shifted, and careful thumbs began to palpate along the edge of his cheeks.
To his own credit, Dennis would later say he gave a great performance at normalcy throughout the long process of Robby examining him. If only because all his attention was being funneled into the slow movement of air throughout his respiratory system, and not pitching a tent at the very thought of a kind man holding him, healing him.
Awareness of how absolutely pathetic that made him did nothing to kill the strange heat spreading like venom through his veins. Throughout the entire examination he watched the thoughts shift over Robby’s face as he worked, idly obeying his instructions as though in a trance.
When Robby told him to describe the location of his pain, he did. When told, he opened his mouth as wide as possible, no more than a finger’s width. When Robby pushed, he turned his head, and shifted his jaw from side to side, and studied the reflections of light within warm brown eyes.
“Whitaker.”
He startled, and only managed to not fall off the bed thanks to the weight of Robby’s hand upon his knee. Which reminded him—
Yes. Robby. There, right in front of him, and looking down at him with raised brows.
“Huh?”
Blessedly, Robby didn’t take the obvious next course of action and toss Dennis from his hospital indefinitely for being a space case, and also most definitely a pervert. Instead, he only smiled.
A true smile, wrinkles bursting out from his narrowed eyes and head tilting to the side.
“I said,” he enunciated with humor in his voice, “that the alignment of your jaw tells me that articular dislocation is unlikely. That’s good. From what I can tell, your problem is probably just a case of too many tense muscles.”
He squeezed Dennis’ knee, thumb rubbing little circles into the tight muscles of his inner thigh. It made him want to run, or cry, or just melt back into the mattress and let Dr. Robby do exactly as he liked with him, as long as it felt that good.
Instead, he chose only to stare dumbly up at Robby, lips parted.
“Too much exam stress, hm?” Robby asked, his tone too casual and playful for the way his thumb inched just a little farther up along his leg.
Dennis could certainly own up to some stress, but his exams weren’t the cause of it, not right now. Unfortunately, this particular kind of stress always brought out the worst in him, and the glide of Robby’s palm down along the length of his shin made all the stupid parts of his brain get even dumber.
“Guess you can never accuse me of not being a hard worker, huh?” he asked, voice weak and huffing out fake half-laughs as he shrugged. Immediately, his false smile fell, and he remembered exactly why his mother once told him never to act likable.
He wasn’t good at it.
Lucky for him, Robby didn’t have to put up an act.
“I would never do that,” he said, laughter twinkling in his eyes. “But it’s important to remember that too much stress on your nervous system will inevitably produce some real diminishing returns, for both your educational and professional lives. I need you to stay happy and healthy. Not only for yourself and to prevent burnout, but also to act as a role model for our patients. I can hardly expect them to make the right decisions when part of my team can’t even stand straight without wincing in pain.
“So,” he continued, “you’re going to make good choices from now on. Take frequent breaks from studying, buy a more ergonomic pillow, remain mindful of your posture. Simple stuff to prevent this happening again. Okay?”
Dennis’ tongue felt too heavy. With wide eyes, he could only manage a nod.
“Good. Lecture over.” Robby’s hand rose from his knee to cross both arms across his chest, and Dennis took a deep breath for the first time in minutes. “Now, on to solutions. I’m going to write you a two-day prescription for a muscle relaxant that will hopefully get things loosened up. For tonight, I’m going to help you with some myofascial exercises on your face and neck that will guide the joint open. These are temporary fixes, though, and I would strongly advise you to see a dentist for a proper diagnosis and treatment plan.”
“Sir, that’s really not necessar-”
Robby’s palm flew up again to stop him. “I appreciate your input, Whitaker, but as your acting physician I’m going to insist that my care plan be followed.” He leaned back to fix Dennis with a close look, eyes flicking back and forth strangely. “Don’t give me that look.” He smiled. “It’s nothing worse than a massage. You’re not afraid it’ll hurt, are you?”
“No,” he said, honest. In his lap, his fingers twined together and laid flat, again and again. Beneath his eyelashes, he peeked up at Dr. Robby. “I just…don’t want you to worry about me.”
A strong hand gravitated to its place on Dennis’ shoulder, and when Robby huffed an exhale from his nose, he wished he could feel the hot air on his skin.
“A little too late for that one, kid.”
And Dennis…didn’t know exactly how to interpret that, so he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. Robby worried for everyone in his ED, that was his nature.
“Now, sit up.” He gave him a pat on the back. “Poor posture isn’t going to get us anywhere.”
Unaware that he’d let himself fall into a slouch, Dennis straightened his back and raised his chin. Closer now to Robby’s height, he attempted a smile and tried his very best not to dwell on the thoughts looming in the back of his mind with every touch and glance shared between them.
Robby was only trying to help him. He didn’t deserve some creepy kid getting weird about it.
“Great, we can get started. I’m going to work on your shoulders first, tell me why.”
Dennis nodded. “The connected muscles and nerve groupings can cause significant tension and strain in the neck and jaw. Oh, also, working out the tension in larger muscles then proceeding to finer areas promotes blood flow and prevents additional pain.”
Robby smiled and nodded his approval of Dennis’ answer. “Nicely said. If this whole emergency medicine thing goes south for the two of us we can go into massage therapy together.”
Unfortunately, Dennis couldn’t manage anything more than a vaguely amused exhale, not when Robby’s second hand rose to his shoulder, his entire body now caging him onto the bed. Dennis’ breath stuttered at the very first rhythmic squeeze of his tense muscles.
His eyes shut tight. He wasn’t going to survive this.
“Jeez, Whitaker. Can hardly feel the difference between muscle and bone.” His thumbs eased firm lines across his shoulders, pausing along the way to rub deep circles into hard knots. Dennis choked down a noise when Robby zeroed in on a particularly rough spot. “Maybe Santos was right about getting your cortisol levels checked.”
“I’m not-” Dennis spat out, primed to argue. He looked up at Dr. Robby, whose attention had torn away from his work to focus on him. “You heard that? I don’t- I’m, I’m fine, okay? I’ll find my balance, and stop being stressed, and whatever else you tell me to do so that you don’t get mad at me.”
The silence that fell upon the cramped exam room irritated Dennis nerves even more than the sound of his own whiny, obnoxious voice.
Robby looked down again at his hands in motion, mouth set flat. As the tense seconds passed, he squeezed down harder and harder on sore muscles, until Dennis couldn’t hold back a tiny little whine with each painful touch.
You did this, he thought. He shouldn’t have said anything at all, should have just gone on stewing in the anxiety that Robby’s presence sparked within him, always wondering if this instance would bring him kindness or reprimand. Teeth clenching together, he curled into himself. Idiot.
He startled when quick fingers tapped the curve of his spine. “Up,” Robby snapped, and Dennis listened. Posture straight again, he exhaled long and slow to work through the panic building in his chest. Robby’s hands returned to his shoulders, warm palms soothing the hurt he’d just caused.
“The only reason I have to be angry with you, Whitaker, is for treating your health like a triviality. It’s reckless and unprofessional, especially in our line of work. Aside from that…” he hesitated. His touch strayed upward to grace Dennis’ neck, thumbs forcing his chin up to connect their eyes. “I understand that it’s none of my business how you handle yourself outside of this building. If you’re telling me to back off, then I can respect that.”
Dennis forced out another breath from the tight hold of his lungs. Honestly, he was finding it a little difficult to focus on the grave tone in Robby’s voice, distracted by fingertips caressing the sensitive skin of his throat.
“No. That’s…that’s not it.” Robby’s touch snuck around the back of his neck, massaging the muscles lining his vertebrae, fingernails sneaking into the cropped hairs at his nape. Dennis gasped, and leaned back into the palm cradling the base of his skull. “I didn’t mean to-to be mean,” he stumbled over the jumble of thoughts weighing heavy on his tongue. “I just…don’t want to fuck things up because I’m being stupid. I want to get it right.”
Complete nonsense, yet the corners of Robby’s mouth jumped up. His fingers eased loose a knot in Dennis’ neck, and he breathed slow through the wave of relief.
“That’s the fun of it all, isn’t it, kiddo? You’re going to worry, and try your best, and fight like hell, and still fuck it up. It’s natural.” He moved on to cradle Dennis’ jaw between his palms. “Just don’t let the fear of pissing me off get you bent out of shape. God knows that no one else around here seems to.”
Dennis swallowed down hard around the last remnants of his anxiety. Robby wasn’t mad at him. He couldn’t be, not with the way he leaned over Dennis’ reclining body, thumbs rising to ease softly over his cheekbones.
Their eyes didn’t stray from one another’s for a long moment. Robby’s glasses had slid down nearly to the tip of his long nose, and before Dennis could even register the impulse, he reached up with a single finger to push them up to their rightful place between his eyes.
“Thought I wasn’t supposed to worry at all?”
Neither of them moved, yet Robby suddenly felt so much closer. His legs shifted on the crinkly sheets, so near to hugging Robby’s hips that he could feel their nearby heat.
Strong thumbs dug hard into the joints of Dennis’ jaw, and his lips fell open on impulse, gasping.
“Some worry is good, natural. Gives us something to work out.”
Dennis’ sluggish mind struggled to figure out what he meant by that, and gave up the moment he felt the callouses along Robby’s fingers massage against his scalp.
Time seemed to melt away after that, stretching on endlessly and occupied by only freckles along Robby’s cheekbones, dark hair brushing Robby’s forehead, decades of skill working through Robby’s careful fingers. The thick air between them fell silent, except for the sound of Dennis’ poorly stifled moans.
Every push into the trigger points along his skin hurt, it fucking ached, yet something whispering and sweet about the pain frazzled his nerves. He felt weak, and vulnerable. Moisture dulled his vision, and his eyes closed to hide from the intensity of Robby’s gaze.
Dennis tried so hard to be normal, he really did. He tried, and tried, and tried until the very moment that Robby’s thumbs brushed against the corners of his mouth. The numbing warmth of his touch seemed to reach down into Dennis’ very bones, and all at once he just…gave in.
His lips parted to suck in a rush of cold air.
Robby’s thumbs stroked over his bottom lip, then rose again to massage firm paths down the line of his jaw. Pain stored like memory in the tissue released, and with it fell Dennis’ shoulders from their permanent guard.
“That’s it,” Robby murmured, so close above him. “Let it all go for me.”
Dennis whimpered, and could have fallen back into the mattress were it not for the hands keeping him aloft. He gave his body fully over to the relief coursing through his blood, easing away his stress. Distantly, he registered the pulse of heat low in his gut, but he didn’t let it bother him.
In his lap, his fingers relaxed from their vice grip around thin polyester. Idly, he touched the seam along the thigh of his scrubs, just feeling the raised threads warmed by his skin. Dr. Robby was so close—he could take a single step forward and press himself to the soft flesh beneath Dennis’ fingertips.
“Feeling good?” came a quiet voice from above him.
A beat passed before Dennis could wrangle his tongue into functioning properly. “Yeah…” he muttered, eyelids fluttering open. What the hell is wrong with me, whispered a frantic voice deep within his mind, but the thought immediately dissipated when Robby began to massage his ears.
“Ha,” the high, breathy sound escaped Dennis’ lips, heat rising to prickle along his throat. No one had ever touched him there, he realized.
Stupid and slow, his brain frantically rushed to find anything to say, anything to rid itself of the echoing torment of that embarrassing noise.
“I think,” he started, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It’s helping, sir. My headache went away already.”
Robby nodded, and his fingers slipped down the line of his cheek, jaw, neck, and collarbone until his touch left completely. The cold absence made Dennis shiver, desperate to regain what he’d lost.
“Glad to hear it, kid.” There was a strange tightness around his mouth, his eyes evasive, but Dennis couldn’t parse the reason. “It’ll do you some good to practice self-massage on your neck and jaw, every morning and night. How about mobility? Open your mouth for me.”
Completely beyond his control or consent, the command ticked against something in Dennis’ brain, resurfacing the memory of a dream he’d thought he’d forgotten.
It had come to him only a few nights after that disaster of a first shift, ruining any plausible deniability of the fact that he had a massive fucking crush on his boss. And though time and distraction had blurred the edges of the dream, he still remembered the important parts.
Fingernails scratching his scalp. Strong knees pressed against his shoulders. The metallic ring of a belt buckle unfastened, and a zipper pulled loose. Flesh, and heat, and salt, and sharpened words guiding him towards where he belonged.
“If that’s the best you can do then my little exercise did a lot more harm than good.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah.”
Dennis ignored the flush beneath his cheeks, and allowed his lips to part as far as they could. That is: not much, possibly only wide enough to fit two fingers between his teeth.
Robby’s arms crossed over his chest. “Hm.”
With that vague acknowledgment, he stepped out from between Dennis’ legs to turn from him entirely. The sudden loss nearly made Dennis jerk forward and grasp onto the loose fabric of his hoodie, apologies for whatever he’d done wrong readied on his tongue.
Every word fizzled away as he watched Robby pull an exam glove onto his right hand.
“What’s that for?” His eyes tracked the alarming sight of the glove, even as Robby returned to stand within the cage of his legs. The blue nitrile looked absolutely obscene against the pale skin of his wrist, rubber fit snug to his broad palm, fingers flexing. His left hand remained bare.
“Your masseters are still tight, and there’s only so much I can do for them externally. I’m hoping they’ll loosen up with some intraoral attention.” His gaze flicked up from beneath the ridge of his glasses. “As long as you’re comfortable with that?”
“Yeah!” Dennis practically squeaked before he could think any better of it. He nodded frantically, breath quickening. “Yeah, yeah, sounds like a good…good course of action.”
What could possibly be wrong with letting his attending put his fingers in his mouth?
Robby snorted. “Glad to have your approval, Mr. Whitaker.”
It startled Dennis when warm, bare fingers enclosed one of his own, gently tugging his hand from his lap and towards Robby’s hips. His breath stuttered, eyes wide as he watched Robby move him. Unable to resist, he let his finger be pushed and curled around the loosened fabric of a belt loop.
Robby’s fingertip stroked along the back of his, before falling away.
“I know talking will be difficult, so if you feel any pain or discomfort, just tug here and I’ll pause the procedure. Alright?”
This didn’t feel like any procedure described in Dennis’ textbooks, not when the metal of a man’s belt buckle felt cold against his knuckle. That cursed dream resurfaced again, and he gulped around the phantom jaw pain of an entirely different kind.
“Okay.” He gave Dr. Robby a weak smile, and tugged lightly on the loop fitted into the crook of his finger, just to feel his large body sway slightly closer into the splay of his legs. The slow smile he received in return made it worth the risk.
“You’re not getting off that easy,” he joked beneath his breath. Dennis couldn’t exactly manage a laugh, not when a gloved finger rose to tap his chin. “Now open up.”
This definitely fell outside the bounds of traditional doctor-patient behavior, but Dennis didn’t care. Not when opening his lips to Robby felt like second nature, as though every fucked up moment since his assignment to PTMC had been leading him here: to two fingers sliding onto his tongue.
Oh, God. Dennis’ eyes flicked upwards, lashes wet as he searched for an escape from himself, from the immediate swell of feeling in his gut. Maybe if he prayed hard enough a ceiling tile would fall on his head and knock him out.
As if the Lord cared about the prayers of some blaspheming deviant.
Oh, God. Robby’s fingers slid once, twice over the length of his tongue before dipping back into the crook of his gums, feeling over the sensitive skin lining his cheek. The flurrying rush of sensations made Dennis’ entire body hot, and he nearly cried at the way Robby massaging his cheek made his cock twitch in his scrubs. On instinct, he tried to close his legs, only to press his knees right into Robby’s hips.
“Doing okay?”
Dennis nodded, frantic. “Mhm,” he huffed, mouth stuffed, his exhales shaky and high-strung.
The belt loop remained curled around his finger, and he did not pull.
Mind fuzzy, Dennis didn’t think to lower his legs again, and Robby didn’t instruct him to. He remained silent, apparently too distracted by his one-man mission to drive his student fucking insane.
He tenderly massaged the lining of Dennis’ mouth, drawing little circles across his cheek, then his gums. A huff of breath shook from Dennis’ chest when a fingertip stroked the sensitive roof of his mouth. The taste of rubber flooded his senses, and when Robby pulled back his fingers just slightly, his lips tightened around them.
Robby massaged his cheek again, pushing deep and thorough patterns into the tissue. Dennis’ eyes scrunched tightly closed, and he tried to ignore it, to pretend like his mouth was being invaded by some ancient dentist, grumpy and ugly and mean.
“You’re doing an excellent job for me, Whitaker,” interrupted Robby, tall and gentle with his skilled fingers pressed along the side of his tongue. There it was again—that unpredictable oscillation between tenderness and cruelty that drove Dennis crazy. “I know it’s uncomfortable, just a few minutes and I’ll have you all sorted out.”
Unfortunately, Dennis worried that might become painfully true. His eyes creaked open to blink through unshed moisture, and he looked past the obscene sight of Robby’s hand pressed to his face to check that it wasn’t obvious just how uncomfortable this made him.
His loose scrubs hid the first hints of his erection, but he knew it would only be a matter of time. Before his cock poked hard against his waistband, and the light fabric would stain with the way his cock leaked messy, just like every other time he thought about Robby like this.
Dear God, he was going to lose his job. An entire career gone, before he’d even really gotten it, all because his boss wanted to help him.
No good deeds going unpunished, and all that.
“You’re tensing up again, Whitaker. I need you to relax for me.”
Dennis’ eyes fluttered closed again as Robby’s fingers moved to stroke along the flat of his tongue. He whimpered, and his head fell backwards only to be caught by Robby’s ungloved hand. Robby pushed his tongue down, and when Dennis only grew weaker, his bare fingers spread to cradle the base of his skull.
A breathy sigh escaped Dennis’ full mouth. The feeling of Dr. Robby’s fingers practically fucking his mouth, combined with his fingernails scratching at the roots of his cropped hair, sent him right back again into the candy-sweet comfort of that dream.
“Knew you would do so well like this…right where you belong…a little deeper…you can do better than that…very good.”
“Very good.”
Robby, real Robby, pulled Dennis back to the present, away from the foggy memories of a perverted pipe dream. His eyes opened to study Robby’s face, his parted lips and keen eyes.
“Stay nice and relaxed, just like that.” Robby’s fingertips drove just that little bit deeper, tickling the precipice of his gag reflex. This close, the scent of cologne on his wrist made Dennis feel drunk, and he couldn’t restrain a soft whine. Out of his mind, he rubbed his knee the slightest bit along Dr. Robby’s thigh, drawing his attention to him. “Am I hurting you?”
He shook his head. “Nhnm,” he mumbled around the knuckles covering his teeth. It wasn’t like he would have complained if Robby decided to do that, either.
Their eyes remained locked, and the intoxicating effect of living in Robby’s light must have gotten to Dennis by now, for the way he slowly began to act—to suckle on the fingers spread like a V over his tongue. His lips tightened, and every pull out of his mouth had him flicking his tongue up, desperate for another taste of synthetic rubber.
“Huh.” It was quiet, the sound. Barely audible, barely even an exhale, but it came from Robby. Dennis’ face grew hot.
God, this felt fucking good. His muscles felt weak and beyond his control, and he fell further backwards onto the bed, caught only by his free hand flying back to dig into the mattress.
The motion tugged Robby forward by his belt, forcing Dennis’ legs to spread wider around him. Their thighs bumped together, and Robby’s hand jumped to hold the ridge of his hip, right above the waistband of his tightening scrubs.
Please, he wished he had the ability to beg. He didn’t even know what we would be asking for, he just needed something. Deeper, harder, stretch me out with something else.
A new fantasy took shape in his mind. Robby’s strong hands sidling beneath his thighs to coax him onto the ground, his spit-covered fingers pushing him down, his thumb rubbing circles into Dennis’ jaw as he tapped the tip of his soft cock against his dripping, outstretched tongue.
Christ, Dennis hadn’t been able to suck a cock in ages. Who could possibly deserve the first chance to fuck his practically virgin mouth except the man who’d made it all possible again?
“I-”
The sound of a rare falter in Robby’s voice made Dennis’ eyes blearily blink into focus again, blinded by the bright exam room. When his brain caught up with his eyes finally, he saw only Robby, consuming his entire world as he leaned over him.
Eyes connected, he gave Robby’s fingers one last long suck before they were rudely torn from his mouth. The loss shocked Dennis, sense temporarily returning to him with a gasp of cold air. Between them hung Robby’s gloved fingers, connected to Dennis’ lips by a long string of saliva.
Panic inched its way back into Dennis’ mind. Robby had finally realized it, how corrupted he was by desire, by perversion. He was going to leave. The thought made Dennis want to jump at Robby’s heels, beg and claw for his touch again even if it hurt.
He didn’t quite get the chance.
“I’m worried about possible atrophy of your styloglossus muscle,” Robby told him after clearing his throat. “Stick out your tongue for me, far as it’ll go.”
The thin moan that slipped past Dennis’ wet lips couldn’t possibly be waved away as innocent, yet Robby’s attention on him remained unfettered and unblinking. Desperate to obey, he allowed his head to fall back, his jaw to open, and his tongue to stretch out for the older man’s use.
His entire body jolted when a hot string of Robby’s spit landed directly on his tongue. His muscles shook with the force of the groan that escaped him, lashes fluttering. He felt overwhelmed, and fuck-drunk, yet he made sure to keep his tongue outstretched.
Robby needed to see what he’d given him, and know how much he treasured it.
He only allowed his tongue to reenter his own mouth when it was pushed in, by the bare fingers of Robby’s left hand.
“Mhm,” the noise slipped from Dennis' throat past Robby’s fingers, practically girlish with how high-pitched and loud it sounded in the empty room. He couldn’t help it, not with how out of his mind he felt at the taste of Robby’s skin on his tongue, neutral except for the salt of sweat and the astringent remains of hand sanitizer. Dennis didn’t mind the taste, it didn’t matter as long as Robby’s callouses were rubbing his own spit into his tongue.
“Gotta get you stretched out,” Robby panted, his nose pressed against Dennis’ hairline. “Course it would take all this effort just to be able to fuck your pretty mouth.”
“Please,” he forced out between Robby’s fingers, the single word slurred and delirious with pleasure. It sent a sick thrill though him, this idea that Robby wasn’t healing him in order to uphold his oath as a physician, but only to open him up so he could be easily fucked.
God, he’d do fucking anything for it.
Desperate, he swung his ankles upwards to twist around Robby’s back, pulling him in with a single sharp move that sent the bed squealing. Their hips finally met, grinding him down into the mattress, and Dennis gasped around the fingers in his mouth when he realized that Robby was—he was—
Dennis wrenched Robby’s fingers out of his mouth, and both hands came up to catch him by the wrist. Robby allowed it, forehead pushed against his to watch as Dennis licked freely along his fingers. He indulged himself completely, tasting the rough skin of his dry palm, tracing the web connecting his fingers, practically worshipping him.
He peered up into Robby’s dark eyes. “I can take more,” he whispered.
Robby tore his hand from Dennis’ hold. “You’ll receive what’s given to you,” he corrected. His wet hand grabbed onto Dennis’ chin to tug open his lips, and he spit again into his mouth. “Now swallow.”
Dennis moaned, and closed his lips to do exactly as he was told. He swallowed down Robby’s spit, a sloppy grin overtaking his face as it slid down his throat. This meant something, like he had taken something from Robby, something he couldn’t get back.
“The muscles of your tongue seem healthy,” Robby said. “I just need to check…”
The sudden press of Robby’s gloved palm against Dennis’ cock knocked the breath from him, vision nearly going white with pleasure. He groaned, loud, and earned Robby’s spit-coated fingers dipping back into his mouth to shut him up.
Dennis didn’t mind. It allowed him to shut his eyes, and suckle on Robby’s skin, and moan with every hump up into the hand stroking him through his scrubs. He moaned as a horrifying pulse of precome soaked into the fabric.
“You’re tense here too, baby.” Robby’s voice toed the line of complete cruelty, a subtle reprimand even as he gave Dennis exactly as he liked. “Do you really need me to help you with everything?”
“Mhm,” Dennis whimpered, nodding around the fingers weighing down his lips. He bucked up, again and again, into the hand stroking him too slowly. The soaked fabric of his boxers grated against his skin, painful and irritating, but he wouldn’t complain.
Not like he could, with Robby practically choking him on his fingers.
The hand dwarfing his covered cock sped up, but only just. Robby seemed fit to torture him, to supply only the barest hints of pleasure and force him to chase like a dog after anything else he wanted.
And Dennis, stupidly, welcomed the opportunity.
He pulled Robby’s body closer to his until the older man was nearly falling over him, his knees pressed to Robby's sides and palms flat against his chest. The rapid beat of a heart beneath his hand made him smile, loopy with the drug of knowing Robby cared about this at all. About him.
“Please,” he mouthed again around Robby’s fingers, before bobbing his head down low on his fingertips. He needed to show Robby he could make it good for him, that he could do fucking something. Spit slid down Robby’s wrist, theirs combined. Dennis smiled around it, and sucked Robby’s fingers down until his lips graced his palm.
All at once, his eyelashes fluttered, his cock twitched, and his throat seized with the horrible click of his gag reflex.
Robby’s fingers tore from his mouth again.
Dennis gasped, lips messy and sore. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it agai-”
The press of Robby’s lips into his did a fine enough job of shutting him up.
It occurred to Dennis, right as tears dotted his vision and Robby’s tongue slipped into his mouth, that every moment since his arrival here had led him to this point. To satisfying this burning need to be swallowed entirely by the man who touched, and took, and gave.
And Dennis knew he couldn’t measure up, couldn’t satisfy him in any way that mattered, but he wouldn’t pass up the chance while he had it.
“Come on,” Robby whispered into his mouth, pressing little kisses against the corners of his lips. He grabbed Dennis’ waist in a tight grip, pulling him further off the bed and into where his hips bucked forward.
“Please,” Dennis whispered again, just to feel the tickle of air between their lips. Muscles weak, he tried his best to roll down onto the swell of Robby’s half-hard cock, concealed by khaki and rutting against his thighs. "Please."
“I know.”
Their kiss became all-consuming, ridding Dennis of all thought of work, or ethics, or oxygen. He cradled Robby’s jaw to pull him closer, stubble prickling his palm, and broke from Robby’s lips just long enough to rub his beard against the sensitive skin of his own cheek.
“It’ll show,” Robby said, close to his ear. A warning.
“Good.”
Robby smiled with a huff and pulled him back into a kiss.
With the floodgates practically flattened at this point, they couldn’t keep themselves off each other. Dennis touched everywhere he’d spent weeks staring at: shoulders, chest, arms.
Truthfully, he couldn’t even label it a good kiss. Robby’s glasses repeatedly bumped into his forehead, and the hairs of his mustache kept getting in the way, and they soon devolved to doing little more than gasping in each other’s air. Yet, even the most annoying parts of it were perfect.
Because it was him.
“Dr. Robby,” Dennis whined, and his cheeks burned with the title. For it, he received a peck on his chin, his cheek, his nose. His hips rocked up into the hand cradling his weeping cock. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he assured him. His long fingers slid downwards to curl over his balls, and Dennis’ breath hiccuped pathetically. He wished the touch would stray further back, that Robby would take what was his.
“I know you can do it,” Robby whispered. The dark stain painted along the front of Dennis’ scrubs felt hot and wet, Robby’s fingertips rubbing the mess he’d made into the fabric like a taunt. “Just gotta relax. Come on.”
Dennis shook his head, eyes pressed shut.
“Let it all go for me, son.”
The black haze of Dennis’ climax overtook him, dulling his entire world until he recognized only the girly sound of his own gasp, the shake of his body, the hot rush of his come shooting into the confines of his boxers. And Robby. There, caging him in and keeping him safe.
“Sorry, sorry,” he repeated, over and over, gasping. Anything to make sure Robby didn’t leave him cold and alone for coming in his own pants like a fucking teenager.
Strong hands rubbed over his back, callouses against skin where his shirt had ridden up. “That’s okay, baby.”
“Sorry,” he said again, anyways.
The mental fuzz of his pleasure settled heavy over him as hips calmed down, and he breathed slow through the blurry feeling. Robby guided him through it, hands straying to run high along his spine. Dennis accepted it, smiling, feeling fit to crumble like ash over the rumpled hospital bed and never put himself back together.
How fortunate he was, to have Robby there to take the burden from his hands.
“Alright. Up you get,” he said after giving him a few too many minutes to recover. He easily tugged Dennis to sit upright on the mattress’ edge again, and coaxed his legs down from around his hips. “Don’t know what kind of hell I’ll get into if I have to send you to PACU for an orgasm.”
Regaining his senses finally, Dennis laughed and tried to come up with some approximation of a clever response. Except, the words disappeared the moment he opened his mouth, and his jaw slid fully open with a loud click.
“Oh my-!” His hand shot up to touch his jaw. With eyes wide, he moved the joint back and forth, up and down, working through the soreness of using muscles long abandoned. He looked up at Dr. Robby, unashamed of the wide grin he couldn’t suppress. “Holy shit! You did it!”
The wrinkles surrounding Robby’s warm eyes came out in full force around his smile. “All better?”
“Yes!” Dennis celebrated, and couldn’t even bother to feel embarrassed about it. Years spent in pain, unable to properly eat, talk, yawn, or even keep a boyfriend around for longer than a couple months. All the discomfort, gone within an hour of Robby’s attention.
He could hardly believe it.
And Robby had the nerve to just chuckle and fake a little shrug. “All in a day’s work, kid.”
Dennis wouldn’t let him brush off such an incredible gift so easily. Pushing his many, many doubts away, he reached out to hold onto Robby’s ribcage, and leaned up to kiss him.
Like a miracle, Robby accepted it. Their eyes both slid closed. For a long moment they remained quiet, lips pressed together in a dry, chaste kiss. When they parted, Dennis smiled again.
“Thank you so, so much. I’m serious, I don’t know how to make it up to you.”
The moment the words fell from his lips, Dennis’ heart quickened with the thrill of an idea. The sticky feeling of the mess drying in his pants reminded him of what they’d just done.
Or rather, what only he had done.
Hesitant, he touched the soft plane of Robby’s belly. Down his fingers went, feeling over the worn cotton of his hoodie, until the cold press of a belt buckle made his lips part.
“Do you think I could…?” he began to ask, voice trailing off as a flush rose to his cheeks. Excitement built within him as he tried to dip further down, until Robby caught him by the wrist, easing his touch away.
“Not today, sweetheart.”
“Oh. Right.”
A humiliating noose of emotion tightened around Dennis’ throat, and he swallowed around it. He looked down. Even staring at the embarrassment stained across the front of his pants was preferable to looking at Robby, so patient as he let him down easy. Typical.
“Right. Yeah. Yeah, I get it. Sorry. I’ll just-”
Eyes evaded, he tried to weasel his way out from beneath Robby’s body so he could make a quick escape from the exam room into, well anywhere else. He barely even made it to his feet before a hand on his waist stopped him.
“Don’t get like that on me, Whitaker. I just…can’t do that here. You would get it if,” his voice cut off, and Dennis peeked up to see his gaze dart away and return within a second. “What I mean is that I’m not shutting you out. Just- go get yourself cleaned up and we can talk about it later. Handover’s coming up and I can’t have one of my students looking like he’s been ravaged by a bear.”
A joke rose to Dennis’ mind, but embarrassment made him bite his lip against it. Besides, Robby was probably too old to understand it, anyways.
“Okay,” he croaked, nodding quickly. He stepped around Robby, yet maintained eye contact as the older man turned too. Dennis’ eyebrows ticked up. “Later?”
Robby nodded. “Later, I promise.”
The thought of that discussion, let alone what could possibly come after, made a stupid little ball of hope form in his chest. He nodded, mostly to himself. “Cool. I- yeah. I’ll go, clean up.”
“You do that,” Robby said, letting him slip from his hold.
Yet, Dennis only made it a single step closer to the door before his mind forced him to a stop. Another idea, exciting and dangerous. In place he spun around to face Dr. Robby again, his smile crooked and giddy.
“Those muscle relaxers you mentioned? I’ve never, well, taken anything like that before. Maybe you could oversee my first dose, after work. Just, you know. To ensure I don’t suffer an adverse reaction.”
For a long moment, Robby only stared back at him, his eyes unreadable. The silence made Dennis’ stomach flip.
God, he really couldn’t go a minute in Robby’s presence without embarrassing himself. A little tendril of darkness wrapped around his lungs, and his smile fell. He considered calling the whole thing a joke, with the fake laughter to prove it and budding tears restrained until he reached the privacy of a bathroom stall, when all his fears dissipated as Robby smiled down at him.
“Sure, kid,” he murmured. He reached out, and softly tapped the swell of Dennis’ bottom lip with his thumb. “Would be my pleasure.”
I hope so, Dennis thought with one last smile upwards at Robby, before he finally ducked out of the exam room. And prayed to God that no one would think twice about another strange stain on his scrubs.