Archive of Our Own

September 9, 2026

Robby was having deja vu. Well, reverse deja vu. 

It was a warm night in early September, and was about to head home when he came across Whitaker curled in a ball on the floor of the bathroom. His arms were wrapped around his legs, his forehead pressed against his knees, and even from the doorway Robby could hear how hard he was breathing. A wave of emotions crashed through him—dark humor at how their roles were now reversed, just over one year out from Pittfest; confusion as to why Whitaker thought the bathroom floor was a good place to have a panic attack; and overwhelming worry. 

Even as a med student, Whitaker was stronger willed than most. It wasn't clear to many, given his nervous demeanor, but he had a level of confidence that few others had, even seasoned residents. When he returned to the Pitt in July for his residency, Robby could tell he had only grown more in the months since. 

All of that was to say he had never seen Whitaker panic. Had never even seen him cry. Sure, he had his moments where his gaze would become distant and he got quiet, like when he lost a patient, but he would always pull it together and move on. 

“Whitaker? What’s up, kid?” He internally cursed himself for having the cadence of a man talking to a scared cat, but he never claimed to be good at talking people down from panic attacks. 

Whitaker’s head shot up. His eyes were wide, his face bright red, probably from how hard he was breathing. At the sight of Robby, he cursed, scrambling to get to his feet. His hands shook as he pushed himself off the floor. 

“Sorry, Dr. Robby, I’m, uh, I'm all set in here. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Robby stepped to block the door. “Whitaker. What's wrong?”

Whitaker gave him a tight smile. “Nothing. I just had a long day, y'know? Listen, I need to get going.”

He tried to push past Robby, but Robby stood firm in his position. 

“You experienced an MCI on the first day of your rotation.”

Whitaker frowned. He nodded, waiting for Robby to continue. Robby sighed. 

“That was a hard day for all of us. But between you, a student at the time, and me, an attending who’s been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, which one of us had a panic attack? And which one of us talked the other through it?”

Whitaker bit his lip and shrugged. “Well…it was the right thing to do.”

Robby nodded. “It was. And now I'm trying to return the favor. Tell me what’s wrong, Whitaker.”

Whitaker sighed defeatedly. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder. “I don't want to talk about it…here,” he said, waving his hand around. Robby knew he didn’t just mean in the bathroom. 

“C’mon, I was heading to my car. You can talk while I drive you home.”

Whitaker was quiet as they walked to Robby’s car. He plugged in the address to his apartment when Robby handed over his phone and then settled into the passenger seat, staring out the window. 

“It's embarrassing.”

Robby glanced over. Whitaker was still facing the window, his hands twisted in the hem of his sweatshirt. 

“If it’s got you this worked up, it must be important. I won't judge.” 

Whitaker sighed. “I…I started dating someone. A guy. I met him on a dating app, and we’ve been together about a month.”

Robby hummed in acknowledgement. He didn't speak yet, waiting for Whitaker to continue. 

“The problem,” Whitaker muttered, “is that he’s…my first boyfriend. I'm 27 years old, and I've never kissed anyone before, let alone had sex. I've avoided the sex part this far—using work and being tired as excuses—but I'm seeing him this weekend and I can't…I know I can’t hold it off forever.”

Whitaker’s knuckles were white where they fisted the fabric of his sweater. Robby waited for a moment to see if there was anything else Whitaker wanted to say before he spoke. 

“So…you’re nervous for your first time?”

“Yeah,” Whitaker said. “It’s just…I like him, but I've only known him a few weeks. I don't know if I trust him like that, y’know? It wouldn’t matter as much if it wasn’t my first time.”

“Hey, I get it. Sex is vulnerable. You should only have it with someone you trust.”

Whitaker nodded. “Plus, I'm nervous about letting him down, like…what if I find out I'm really bad in bed, and he dumps me over it?” He laughed suddenly, and Robby turned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Sorry,” Whitaker said. “Stupid thought.”

“Do share.”

Whitaker leaned back. “I wish I could, like, practice. Or have someone teach me all the basics. Someone older, more experienced. Someone I trust. It would get my first time jitters out of the way too.”

Robby hummed. “You got someone in mind?”

Whitaker shifted, turning his head back to face the window. Robby glanced over again; the tips of his ears were red. 

“Yeah,” Whitaker said. “But it’s a stupid idea. I'll just give Alex the worst blowjob of his life on Saturday and pray he doesn’t break up with me.”

Robby slowed to a stop in front of Whitaker’s apartment. They both turned to speak at the same time, voices overlapping.

“I could—”

“Do you think—”

They both paused. “Go ahead,” Robby said. His voice was hoarse.

Whitaker shook his head. “Sorry. I was just thinking…you’ve taught me so much already, and…”

Robby’s brain buzzed with a dull static as Whitaker kept talking. He knew what Whitaker was about to ask him. The bad part was he wanted to say yes. 

It was so selfish, so wrong, and there were so many ways it could blow up in his face—but something warm twisted in his stomach every time Whitaker smiled at him, or said his name, or leaned into his touch. 

He shouldn’t. He couldn't. 

“Dr. Robby?”

“Yeah?”

Whitaker looked like he was about to throw up. “Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Thanks for the ride.”

Robby’s hand shot out and grabbed Whitaker's wrist. “Wait. Wait,” he said. “I…yes. I'll do it. I'll help—I’ll teach you.”

Whitaker’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Robby smiled. “Yeah. Really.” Fuck. 

Whitaker didn’t speak for a moment. “Wow. Thank you, Dr. Robby,” he said. His voice was quiet, a look of genuine gratitude on his face. Robby’s stomach fluttered. 

“Don't worry about it. Consider it repaying a favor, hm?”

Whitaker hesitated, nodded. Robby realized he was still holding his wrist. He dropped it, settling his hands back on the steering wheel. 

“So,” Robby said. “This is all gonna be led by you, okay? Whatever you want to do, we’ll do. Whatever you don’t want to do, we won't. You stay stop, I stop. You wanna call this all off, I'll pretend we never had this conversation.”

Whitaker nodded. He licked his lips. “When do we start?”

Now it was Robby’s turn to be shocked. “Uh,” he stuttered. “You said you’re seeing him this weekend?”

“Yeah. I don’t think we’ll have, uh, sex,” Whitaker said. He blushed when he said sex. Robby thought it was ridiculously cute. “I promised him I'd suck his dick, though. So.”

“So, sometime between now and Saturday," Robby said slowly, "I need to teach you how to give a blowjob.”

Whitaker blushed harder. He nodded. 

“Well,” he said, shifting the car into drive. “How does leftover Chinese food at mine sound?”

*****

Robby set up Whitaker in the kitchen with reheated leftovers and excused himself to take a shower. The cold water did nothing to calm his raging erection, which he had had from the moment he agreed to this ridiculous plan.  

When he returned, Whitaker was cleaning his plate in the sink.

“Hey, it’s okay, I'll take care of it,” Robby said. He came up behind Whitaker and turned the tap off. 

Whitaker stilled and turned to look up at him. It made Robby very aware, not for the first time, how much bigger he was than the other man. They were so close that their arms were brushing against each other. He swallowed and took a step back. 

“Do you, uh,” he stumbled, suddenly extremely self conscious. “Do you want to do this in the living room, or the bedroom?”

“Bedroom,” Whitaker replied. He was back to the Whitaker Robby knew so well: calm, collected, determined. He set his plate down in the sink and stepped toward Robby. “Lead the way?”

“Right,” Robby said. He walked them down the hallway and into the last room on the right. Thankfully, it wasn’t as much of a mess as it usually was—he had spent his day off on Sunday doing laundry and cleaning up the various half-empty coffee cups and dirty plates and bowls that were scattered around the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed a pillow, throwing it on the floor at his feet. Whitaker knelt without prompting, hands folded in his lap as he turned his wide eyes up to look at Robby. Fuck. Robby’s cock pulsed in his sweats. 

“So,” Robby said. He settled his hands on his thighs. “Have you ever..seen a penis in real life? Held one in your hands? Anything?”

Whitaker rolled his eyes. “I've seen plenty,” he said. “Y’know, at the hospital. But not in a…not in this context.”

“Okay,” Robby said. His eyes fell on Whitaker’s lips and quickly shifted back up to his eyes. “Well, people come in all shapes and sizes. Some people are cut, some are uncut. And different people like different things. I can only teach you so much.”

Whitaker shrugged. “I'll take what I can get.”

“Right.” Robby felt lightheaded already. “Let’s start with my fingers in your mouth. See how you do with those, what your limit is. Then, when you’re ready…”

“Okay,” Whitaker said. He balled his hands in his lap, shifting closer to Robby’s knees. Robby spread his legs, letting the younger man slip between them. 

Robby brought his hand to Whitaker’s chin, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip. “Open,” Robby whispered, and Whitaker obeyed, lowering his jaw ever so slightly. “Good,” he murmured. Whitaker blushed.

“Starting with one finger.” 

Robby pushed his pointer finger into Whitaker’s mouth. The younger man closed his lips around it instantly, sucking and running his tongue along the pad. His mouth was hot and wet, his eyes staring straight up at Robby. He bit back a curse at the sight. 

Robby moved his finger further into Whitaker’s mouth until he was down to the knuckle. He pulled out and pushed back in, experimenting. Whitaker eyes fluttered shut, his lips and mouth continuing to suck on the intrusion. “Feel okay?” he said. Whitaker hummed; the vibrations traveled all the way up Robby’s arm. 

“Gonna add another. If you need to stop, just tap my leg, okay?”

Whitaker nodded and readily accepted a second finger, swirling his tongue around both digits. Robby swallowed. 

“If you feel comfortable, you can move your head…take them further in, then pull out…yeah, just like that, perfect.”

Whitaker’s eyes opened once more and found Robby’s as he began to bob his head along his fingers. He sank down, taking the entire length of them, before pulling back ever so slowly. Robby’s eyes widened as Whitaker repeated this motion several times and popped off, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the tips of Robby’s fingers. 

“Jesus,” he whispered. 

“Like that?” Whitaker asked. Robby just nodded. 

“Can I…” Whitaker’s eyes lowered to Robby’s crotch, where his cock was obviously straining against his sweats. Robby sucked in a breath. 

“Look, I'm not trying to toot my own horn or anything, but I, uh,” Robby trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm not…small.”

“I'll stop if I need to.”

Robby swallowed, his throat clicking. “Alright. Okay. Alright.”

He lifted his hips and lowered his sweats. Whitaker scooted away so he could stand and remove them fully, leaving him in just his boxers and a t-shirt. 

“I’m going to let you take it from here,” Robby said. Whitaker blinked. “With guidance,” he acquiesced. 

He reached down and grabbed Whitaker’s hands, placing them on his own thighs. Whitaker squeezed lightly. 

“Blowjobs aren’t just about sucking their dick until they come,” Robby said, putting on his best teaching voice. “You want to make it an enjoyable experience overall. You need to have build up.”

Whitaker nodded. “Foreplay.”

“Exactly.” Robby took his hands away, placing them on either side of his hips on the bed. “You want to bring your boyfriend to the edge before you even put his cock in your mouth. Go ahead. See what feels natural.”

Whitaker turned his attention to the tent in Robby’s boxers. He had the same concentrated look on his face as he did when putting in a chest tube, or performing CPR: dead-set and serious. He ran his hands up and down Robby’s thighs again, letting his thumbs catch the hem of his boxers and pulling them up slightly. His fingers caressed the bare skin, eyes flicking up every few seconds to gauge Robby’s reaction. When Robby made no move to stop him, Whitaker moved one hand up, cupping his erection through the fabric. Robby bit his lip; he felt his stomach muscles tense, but didn’t move. Whitaker stroked him lightly, barely using any pressure. His thumb found Robby’s tip, rubbing over it, watching carefully as a wet spot formed on his boxers. 

“Good,” Robby encouraged. “When you’re ready, you can—Jesus, fuck.”

Whitaker leaned forward, pressing his tongue to Robby’s cock through the fabric. He looked up as he dragged it down the length, and Robby groaned. His cock twitched, more precum gathering at the tip. Whitaker continued to mouth at it, and the fabric slowly became soaked from Robby’s own arousal and the younger man’s saliva. 

Finally, Whitaker’s fingers reached for the slit in Robby’s boxers, slipping in and running along his cock. The contact made Robby moan, which startled Whitaker. He retracted his hand quickly. 

“No, no,” Robby said, “that was good. Sorry. I can try to stay quiet.”

A look of relief washed over Whitaker’s face. “No, it’s okay, you can make noise,” he said, returning his hands to Robby’s lap. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t doing it wrong.” He slowly curled his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. Robby lifted his hips to help, sighing as his cock was freed from its confines. It slapped against his stomach, bright red and painfully hard.

Instantly, Whitaker’s hands were on him—first one, then both, wrapping around his length. Even with two hands, he couldn’t cover all of his cock. Robby had to use all of his willpower to not buck up into his grip. 

“O-Okay,” he stuttered. “Remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can stop at any time.”

Whitaker just licked his lips, not making any indication he had heard the other man. He dragged his thumb across the tip of Robby’s cock, slathering a bead of precum over it. Robby’s thighs tensed, and his fists curled in the bedsheets. Fuck. Don’t cum before he actually puts it in his mouth. 

Thankfully, Whitaker seemed to have read his mind, or maybe he was just as impatient as Robby was. He leaned forward and took the tip of Robby’s cock into his mouth, sucking lightly. Robby hummed in pleasure, murmured “keep going,” and Whitaker obliged, sinking further and further down. When Robby felt the head of his cock brush the back of Whitaker’s throat, he gasped. His hand moved automatically, curling in Whitaker’s hair and pulling him back. 

“Fuck, Whitaker,” he rasped. “Do you have a gag reflex?”

Whitaker blinked up at him. “Uh, guess not?”

“Jesus,” Robby groaned. “Your boyfriend is a very, very lucky man.”

Whitaker beamed at the praise. He licked his lips again and looked back at Robby’s cock. “Can I keep going?”

“Yeah, kid. Keep going.” He moved his hand away, but paused when Whitaker frowned. “What's wrong?”

“I liked it,” he shrugged. Robby nodded, biting back a groan. He returned his hand, rubbing the tips of his fingers along Whitaker’s scalp. The boy sighed and opened his lips, taking Robby in again once more. 

For someone who had never given a blowjob before, Whitaker was a fucking natural. He bobbed his head leisurely, letting the tip of Robby’s cock hit his throat every few strokes. Whatever he didn’t have in his mouth he worked with his hand. Robby only had to make a comment once, reminding him to watch his teeth. 

“You’re doing so well, Whitaker,” he whispered. Whitaker looked up at him with wide, teary eyes. A streak of drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m…” Robby gasped, pulling Whitaker off him again. His legs were trembling, cock aching for release. Whitaker tilted his head. 

“Aren’t you going to come in my mouth?”

“Jesus, Whitaker, you’re killing me.” Robby took a deep breath. “It’s alright, I can finish myself. You did well. You'll do great with Alex."

Whitaker shook his head. “I want to make you finish.” 

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” he said again, more insistent. “Please?”

Robby was quickly learning he could never say no to Whitaker. 

“You…you don’t have to swallow,” was all he could manage before Whitaker took him back in his mouth, bobbing up and down with renewed vigor. It only took a few seconds of this, paired with another upward glance from big blue eyes, and Robby was bowing over, coming harder than he had in years. He emptied himself down Whitaker’s throat, moaning so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts. 

When he collected himself, he found Whitaker sat back on his heels, rubbing his jaw. “My face hurts,” he said. His voice was raspy. 

“Did you—“

Whitaker opened his mouth, showing it was empty. Robby’s soft cock twitched in vain. 

“Was that good?” Whitaker looked nervous. 

“That may have been the best blowjob I've ever received.”

Whitaker’s shoulders relaxed instantly. “Oh, thank God,” he said, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Thank you Dr. Robby. Seriously. This helped so much.”

Robby nodded. He looked at himself, naked from the waist down, while Whitaker was still fully clothed. He suddenly felt very exposed. “I’m gonna get dressed…I can give you a ride back to—“

Whitaker shook his head. “It’s fine, it’s a short walk.” He stood and winced as his knees popped. “I’ll let you know how things go on Saturday.”

Robby blinked. Right. Saturday. The day when Whitaker was going to give his actual boyfriend a blowjob. 

“Sounds good,” Robby said. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow?”

*****

September 10, 2026

Robby had to ask Whitaker to repeat himself close to a dozen different times the next day. He was too distracted staring at his lips, remembering how they looked stretched around his cock, pink and shiny.

*****

September 13, 2026

[21:03] Whitaker: it went well :) alex was very satisfied 

[21:05] Robby: Glad to hear it.

[21:06] Whitaker: can we schedule another meeting? (lesson? idk what to call these) 

[21:06] Whitaker: he wants to go all the way next time >_<

[21:10] Robby: Come over on Wednesday. We can talk about it then. 

September 16, 2026

Wednesday found Whitaker back in his passenger seat, driving to Robby’s apartment. As opposed to the week before, Whitaker was chattier, more at ease. They talked first about their shift, but as they got closer to Robby’s apartment, the conversation steered more towards their arrangement. That's what Robby had started calling it in his head. 

“Maybe you can make a list,” Robby said as he turned onto his street. “All of the things you want to…learn. Practice. Whatever. And we can work our way through it.”

Whitaker nodded. “Alex has told me a lot of stuff he wants to do. Different, ah, positions, I mean.”

Robby raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Missionary…cowgirl…uh, doggy…”

Robby white knuckled the steering wheel. Just imagining Whitaker in those positions was enough to make his cock twitch in interest. “Alright. Nothing too crazy.” 

When they arrived at Robby's apartment, they followed a similar routine to their first meeting—he made Whitaker dinner and took a shower. When he returned, the kitchen had been cleaned, and a plate was set out for him.

“I figured I should also shower,” Whitaker said. “If we’re gonna…” he trailed off awkwardly. 

“Yeah, of course,” Robby said. He hoped his casual tone didn’t betray how hard his heart was pounding in his chest. “I’ll grab you a towel and a change of clothes. The bathroom is on the left at the end of the hall.”

Once Whitaker was set up and the water started running, Robby settled in the kitchen, head in his hands. 

What the fuck am I doing?

It wasn’t just that he was sleeping with a resident—he’d been there and done that. It was the fact that he was sleeping with a resident, taking their virginity, and on top of that, said resident had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who was very much not him.

Robby laughed. Of course he would find himself in such a ridiculous position. Of course his crush (could he call it a crush at his age?) would ask him of all people to teach him how to have sex. 

The sound of the water shutting off shook Robby from his thoughts. He stood and made his way to his bedroom, ensuring it was presentable enough, and waited for Whitaker to emerge from the bathroom.

“Can I come in, Dr. Robby?”

“Just Robby kid, it's okay.”

Whitaker stepped into the room. His curls, still slightly damp, stuck to his forehead and neck; his face was flushed from the heat of the shower. Robby sucked in a breath as his eyes traced his form—the old college shirt he had picked out was far too large, hanging off of his left shoulder, and Whitaker had to hold up the boxers with one hand. 

“How should I—”

“Here, here,” Robby rushed, jumping up from the bed. “Get comfortable. You don’t have to, uh, take anything off yet. We'll talk first, okay?”

Whitaker nodded and made his way to the bed, taking a seat against the headboard. He sat with his legs crossed, fingers nervously playing with the hem of the shirt. 

"Here's what I'm thinking, based on what you told me,” Robby started. “You said Alex wants to have sex with you. The most basic position, which is what I assume Alex will want to start with, is missionary.” Robby paused. “Have you ever…watched porn?”

Whitaker grinned. “I know I grew up in the middle of bumfuck Nebraska, but I'm not that sheltered.”

Robby laughed. “Alright, just checking. Then you know how it goes—the person receiving is lying down, the person giving is on top. Which position do you feel most inclined to?”

“Bottom,” Whitaker said. “Though I’d like to try topping some day. But I don't have the, uh. Equipment?” 

Robby tilted his head. “Strap ons?”

“Yeah.” Whitaker’s eyes flicked around the room, embarrassed. “I don’t really have the expendable income for that right now. Besides, I think Alex wants me to bottom, so might as well start there.” 

“Fair enough,” Robby responded. His expression remained neutral—or, as neutral as he could manage—while internally he jumped for joy. He was going to be the first person in the world to know what Dennis Whitaker’s cunt felt like squeezing around their cock. 

“I’ll need to prep you before we do anything. Remember last time? Good sex always involves a lot of foreplay, not only to get you in the mood, but to make sure everything feels good for both people.”

“Right,” Whitaker said. His eyes flicked to Robby’s crotch and back up. “Does that mean I get to suck your dick again?”

Robby suppressed a groan. “Ah, let's focus on you today, okay? Here, sit against the headboard with your legs straight.”

Whitaker moved, and Robby sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “I know you know this, but we can stop at any time. I do something you don't like, you tell me, okay?"

Whitaker smiled. “I know how to say no, Dr. Robby.”

That makes one of us. 

Robby tentatively placed his hands on Whitaker’s legs, pushing them apart. He rubbed his thumbs along the soft skin of his inner thigh, watching his reactions carefully. He looked nervous, but not scared.

“I’m going to open you up with my fingers. How does that sound?”

Whitaker nodded eagerly, eyes going wide. Robby smiled.

“Can you take these off for me? You can leave your shirt on if you’d like.”

Robby fought the urge to turn away as Whitaker shimmied out of his boxers. It was his natural instinct to preserve Whitaker’s dignity, but what would that do either of them if he was about to put his fingers inside his cunt anyway? 

“I’m sorry,” Whitaker said as he folded the boxers and placed them next to him on the bed. 

Robby almost didn’t hear him, gaze transfixed on his cunt. “Huh?”

“I didn’t…I forgot to shave.” Whitaker tried to close his legs, tugging his shirt down, but Robby instinctively put a hand out to stop him.

“Why would that be a problem?”

“Alex wants me to shave. He said it's sexier,” Whitaker mumbled. He wouldn’t meet Robby’s eyes. Robby shook his head and sighed. 

“Real men don’t mind a bit of hair, Whitaker. Remember that. Besides, it helps protect you from infection. You're better off keeping it.”

He couldn't take his eyes off Whitaker’s cunt. His bottom growth jutted out between the folds, and the dark curls framed it perfectly. Robby had to drag his gaze back up to meet the younger man. 

“Can I touch you?”

“Yes. Please.”

Robby took a shaky breath as he moved closer to Whitaker, letting his hand run up the inside of his thigh. He dragged the tips of his fingers over the top of his mound, just barely brushing his bottom growth. Whitaker shivered.

“Do you touch yourself?”

Whitaker bit his lip. “Not often. It never really feels good…I don’t know.” 

Robby considered this. “What do you want me to call this?” He dragged his finger along his bottom growth again. This time, Whitaker let out a quiet gasp. 

“Um, dick. Cock. Those are fine. The rest…” he tilted his head, thinking. “Hole…pussy…cunt?”

“Thank you,” Robby hummed. “When you touch yourself, do you focus on your cock? Or have you tried putting anything in your pussy?”

“N-No,” Whitaker stuttered, eyes glued to where Robby continued to lightly stroke his cock. “Mostly just my, uh, my dick. I haven't really tried to…finger myself.”

“Okay,” Robby said. “How does this feel?” He used two fingers to stroke his dick more purposefully, rubbing over its length slowly. Whitaker gasped, one hand curling in the blanket.

“Good,” he whispered. “Really good.”

“Good.” Robby continued stroking, watching as his cock slowly hardened, protruding further from his folds. He could see his pubes starting to glisten around his cunt. 

“I’m going to try putting in one finger,” Robby murmured. “You tell me if it hurts, okay?” Whitaker nodded. “Words, Whitaker. I need to know you still want this.”

He swallowed. “Yes, please.”

Robby slipped his middle finger in, and Whitaker’s whole body tensed. Robby used his free hand to rub his thigh soothingly. “Need you to ease up, okay? Deep breaths, kid.”

He continued pushing, feeling Whitaker relax around him. His cunt still squeezed his finger, surrounding it with wet heat. Robby's cock pulsed in his boxers, imagining how it would feel inside of him.

“I’m going to move my finger around now,” he murmured. “Thrusting, curling. Tell me if anything hurts.”

Robby dragged his finger out halfway, skin glistening in the low light of the room, and thrusted shallowly. He repeated this motion a few times before he sank all the way in, curling up towards Whitaker’s stomach. 

“Oh—fuck,” Whitaker moaned. Robby looked up to see his pupils blown wide. “That felt good.”

Robby smiled. “Good. Most people’s dicks are a bit bigger than one finger, though. I'm going to use two now, okay?”

He waited for Whitaker to give him verbal confirmation before pushing another finger in. He was wet enough where the slide was easy, but Robby moved slowly all the same, letting him adjust to the stretch. 

“With two, I can start to open you up a little more,” he said. “It might hurt a little bit, but it will feel good eventually. If it doesn’t—“

“Then I'll tell you.”

Robby grinned. “Fast learner. Good boy.”

He didn't have time to fully process what had come out of his mouth before Whitaker moaned. The younger man’s hands flew to cover his mouth. His eyes were screwed shut. 

“Fuck! Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Robby soothed. “This is all about figuring out what you like, what feels right.” He filed Whitaker praise kink into the back of his mind, along with a still image of the face he made when he moaned and the feeling of his cunt squeezing around his fingers. 

Robby continued, now with two fingers, occasionally spreading them inside and curling them upward, pressing on the spot that made Whitaker twitch and gasp. His cunt got wetter and wetter, a small pool of slick gathering on the sheets beneath him.

Robby trained his eyes on Whitaker’s face as he brought his thumb up to rub circles around his cock. To his delight, his face pinched, mouth dropping into a silent ‘o.’

“Holy shit,” Whitaker gasped. “That, please keep doing that, please.”

“As you wish.” Robby pushed and pulled, rubbed and tweaked, watched closely as Whitaker soaked the bedsheets, fluttering around his fingers.

“Do you think you could do one more, baby?”

The pet name slipped out naturally. Robby had half a mind to apologize, to walk it back, but Whitaker just moaned and nodded, eyes opening to find Robby’s.

“Good boy,” he whispered. He drew his fingers all the way out—they were starting to prune, but he didn't care—and pressed at his opening with three. Whitaker spread his legs wider, head tilting back against the headboard as Robby sank down to his knuckles, twitching and whining.

“Fuck,” he gasped. His cock throbbed against Robby’s thumb, his cunt tightening. “I think…I think I'm gonna…”

“It's okay, baby.” Said it once, no going back now. “You can cum.”

“Fuck, Robby,” Whitaker moaned. He moved his hand, faster now, stroking Whitaker's cock in time with his thrusts. “Fuck, oh my God, fuck!”

“That’s it,” Robby murmured. “Just let go.”

Whitaker's back arched off the bed, one hand shooting out to grip Robby's arm. His whole body trembled with the force of his climax. Robby couldn’t help but continue stroking his cock, watching in awe as more slick drooled out of his cunt. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Whitaker gasped. “I’ve never…it's never been like that before.”

“Felt good?”

Whitaker shook his head in disbelief. “How did you do that?”

Robby opened his mouth to reply, but Whitaker cut him off. “You know what, never mind. Can you fuck me now? Please?”

Robby almost choked on his own spit from how desperate Whitaker sounded. “Do you think you’re ready?”

“Yes, Robby. Please?”

Robby turned and fumbled with the drawer of his nightstand. After a moment of scrounging through the contents, he produced a pack of condoms. Whitaker watched quietly as Robby inspected the label and frowned. 

“What's wrong?”

“These are expired. Shit. Sorry, kid, it's, uh…it's been a while.”

Robby put the condoms down and rummaged through the drawer again, coming up with nothing. He cursed. 

“We might have to—“

“You don’t need to use one. I'm on the pill.”

Robby blanched. “Whitaker…”

“I trust you, Robby,” Whitaker said. He said it so simply, so earnestly. Robby could feel his resolve crumbling. If he even had any to begin with. 

“Listen…I know I'm clean, and you’re clean…but it's still…”

Whitaker just looked up at him with those big blue eyes, a silent plea. That was the final nail in the coffin.

“Fuck. Okay. Just this once.”

Robby positioned himself between Whitaker's legs, letting him wrap them around his waist. With his heart hammering, Robby lined up his cock with Whitaker’s entrance. Before he could push in, Whitaker reached up and entwined his fingers with Robby’s. 

“Okay, baby,” he said. He let the tip slip past his entrance and bit back a gasp. He was barely inside and he already felt on the verge of coming. 

They both watched, enraptured, as Robby's cock disappeared inch by inch inside of Whitaker, until their pelvises sat flush against each other. Whitaker was squeezing his hand tightly. He squeezed back. 

“Deep breaths,” Robby coached. “Yeah?”

“Feel so full,” Whitaker groaned. “It feels weird but…I like it?”

Robby huffed out a laugh. “Just wait until I start moving.”

Robby stalled for a few more moments, using his free hand to rub Whitaker’s thigh absentmindedly. If asked, he’d say he was letting Whitaker adjust to his girth, but really, Robby was trying to pull himself back from the edge of an orgasm. Everything about this—the sensation around his cock, the sight of Whitaker blushing and panting below him, split open on his cock, the fact that they weren’t using a condom, the knowledge that he was taking Whitaker’s fucking virginity—it was a bit much for Robby. 

“Ready?”

With a nod, Robby drew his hips back a few inches—not all the way—and slowly pushed back in. Whitaker whined and squeezed his hand again. Robby took this as a sign to keep going, and soon he set up a steady rhythm of shallow thrusts. 

"How's that feel, baby?” Robby said. It was taking every fiber of his being to not throw Whitaker's legs over his shoulders and pound him into the mattress. 

“Really—ah, really good,” Whitaker replied. His mouth was dropped open in a perpetual gasp, eyes still glued to where Robby's cock drove into him. “Can you—ah—more, faster, please?”

“Fuck,” Robby groaned. “Yeah, baby, I can give you more.” 

He brought his free hand to Whitaker's hip to steady himself as he increased the speed and depth of his thrusts, pulling out further and slamming back in harder. With each push, Whitaker moaned louder and louder, joining the wet sounds of his cunt that filled the room around them. Robby could feel beads of sweat gathering on his brow as he pounded his cock into Whitaker’s cervix, drunk with the thought that he was the first to do so. 

“You can, ah, touch yourself,” Robby said. “Go ahead. C’mon, baby.”

Whitaker's hand shook as it slid down his stomach, fingers tentatively tugging at his cock. The resulting pleasure made him whine, tightening impossibly further around Robby. 

“Fuck, Robby, oh my God, ohmygod—”

Robby could feel his hips speeding up. “Gonna cum again? Come on, baby, I know you can do it.”

“Robby, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m—please!”

Whitaker's second orgasm was just as intense as the first, maybe more so. Robby didn't let up, continuing to pound into the younger man as he gasped and thrashed beneath him. 

“Jesus, Whitaker, you feel amazing, you’re fucking squeezing me so tight—fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Both of Robby's hands were on Whitaker's hips now, chasing his release. He gave two, three thrusts before he pulled out, narrowly avoiding spilling inside of him. He sighed in pleasure as he painted Whitaker's stomach white, rubbing his oversensitive cock against the soft skin of his belly.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he panted. “Wait here. I’ll go grab a towel.”

Robby steadied himself on shaky legs and hobbled to the bathroom, trying to commit the image of Whitaker lying beneath him, fucked out, tummy covered in his cum to memory. He splashed water on his face and wiped himself down before returning to the bedroom. He found Whitaker still lying on the bed, fingers swirling lazily in the mess on his stomach. 

“Here, let me—Jesus, Whitaker, you can’t just do that.”

Whitaker had popped his finger in his mouth, licking Robby's cum off of it. He grinned like a cat that got the cream. “I like how it tastes.”

“For a virgin, you’re a real freak.”

“Former virgin, excuse you.”

Robby's stomach flipped at the reminder. Fuck. He took Whitaker's virginity. If he was two decades younger, that alone would’ve gotten him hard again instantly. 

“Well,” Robby said, hoping his light tone masked the fact that he was screaming internally, “aftercare is equally as important as foreplay. You should always pee after sex and drink plenty of water.”

Whitaker tilted his head. “I thought aftercare was, like, a BDSM thing.”

Robby laughed. “It's an everything thing, kid. Go use the bathroom. I'll get you a fresh change of clothes.” He held a hand out to help Whitaker off the bed. 

“Have you ever done BDSM stuff?” Whitaker asked. “Would you teach me?”

Robby's mind filled with visions of Whitaker dressed only in a leather collar and handcuffs, bound and gagged, skin bright red from spiked paddles and whips. 

“Uh,” he stammered. “Let's take this one step at a time.”

Whitaker beamed. Robby knew that as far as Whitaker was concerned, that wasn’t a no. 

*****

September 17, 2026

Robby accidentally called Whitaker “good boy” the following day after he made a good call with a patient. The resident blushed, eyes widening. Immediately, images of the younger man twitching and moaning, his wet, pink, soft, virgin cunt squeezing around his cock, flooded Robby’s brain. He excused himself to the roof, praying the cool morning air would calm the heat simmering beneath his skin.

*****

September 19, 2026

[22:54] Whitaker: just had my first (second?) time 

[22:54] Robby: How was it?

[22:57] Whitaker: :/

[22:57] Whitaker: it was okay

[22:58] Whitaker: like, he did everything you did…but it didnt feel as good?

[22:58] Whitaker: i didnt even get to finish :( after he was done he fell asleep

[22:59] Robby: I'm sorry, Whitaker. You deserve to be treated better than that.

[22:59] Robby: Try talking to him when he wakes up. Think back on what we did, what you liked about it. Then tell him what you like. 

[23:01] Whitaker: okay, i’ll try >_<

[23:01] Whitaker: thanks, dr robby!!!!

[23:02} Robby: No problem, kid. Have a good night. 

September 23, 2026

Wednesdays became “lesson nights.” The next Wednesday, Whitaker followed Robby out of the Pitt and to his car without discussion. 

Once in the car, Whitaker pulled his phone out. “I made my list,” he said, smiling proudly. Robby couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Alright. What's on the schedule for tonight?”

“Well…there’s a few things I think we could do.”

Robby took a deep breath. God, this kid is gonna kill me. “Well, we can’t do anything on empty stomachs. Let's eat first.” 

One hour, a frozen pizza, and two showers later, Robby and Whitaker sat on the edge of his bed. Whitaker was once again wearing Robby's clothes, practically drowning in them. Once again, Robby was throbbing in his pants at the sight of it.

“So,” Whitaker began, drawing Robby’s attention away from where his collarbones peeked out over the collar of his shirt, “a few things. First, French kissing. I've done this before, so this would be more like practice.”

Robby nodded, ignoring the twist in his stomach at the fact that he would not be Whitaker’s first kiss. “Alright. What else you got?”

Whitaker blushed, turning his eyes back to his phone. “This one is…we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Whitaker, all of this is for you, remember? I'm down for anything.”

“Dennis.”

Robby frowned. “What?”

“You’ve been inside me,” Whitaker said. “I think you can call me by my actual name now. I'd prefer it, actually,” he added, eyes downcast.

Robby's chest tightened at the memory of spearing Whitaker open on his cock the week before—as if he could’ve forgotten. He'd thought about it every night since, fisting his cock and wishing it was the other man's tight cunt instead. “Yeah, of course. Of course, Dennis."

Whitaker smiled, visibly relaxing. “Thanks. Okay. Alex mentioned wanting to, uh. Go down on me.” 

“And you want me to do it first?”

“To get my first-time jitters out of the way,” Whitaker nodded. “And so I can figure out what I like, so I can show him what to do. Like when we did missionary.”

Robby licked his lips. “Did you ever show him how to fuck you properly?”

Whitaker squirmed, looking at the floor. “I tried. It still didn't feel as good, but I'll keep working on it.” 

An overwhelming feeling of possessiveness coursed through Robby's veins. Not only was he Whitaker’s first, but he was Whitaker's best. He'd forever compare his future lovers to Robby, how Robby expertly drove into his cervix, how Robby brought him to his climax. 

“Okay,” Robby bit out. “So, you want me to eat you out. I can do that.” 

Not only could Robby do that, but he kind of needed to. It had been on his mind since the second he first saw Whitaker's cunt, watched his curls dampen and cock harden as he fingered him open. He even had a wet dream for the first time since his 20s involving Whitaker sitting on his face, Robby gripping his thighs as he devoured his cunt. He needed to know how the boy tasted on his tongue more than he needed air to breathe. 

“Oh! Great.” Whitaker was smiling again, his grin lighting up his whole face. “The last thing is…let me see,” he peered at his phone. “Doggy style.”

Robby stilled. “Doggy style?”

“Yeah, like—”

“No, I know what it is.” Robby’s vision went fuzzy around the edges at the thought of having his cock in Whitaker again. “Just—okay. Alright.”

Whitaker put his phone down on the nightstand and turned to face Robby. “So…starting with kissing…” He broke off into a fit of laughter. “Sorry, it’s kinda funny how I've sucked your dick but haven’t kissed you.”

“Well, let’s fix that,” Robby murmured. He reached his hand out to cup Whitaker’s cheek, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. Robby delighted in the fact that the boy’s face began to turn pink just from the light contact. As he leaned in, Whitaker’s eyelashes fluttered, his eyes closing. 

The kiss was chaste at first, just lips pressing against lips. Whitaker was soft, and he smelled like Robby’s shampoo, which made his stomach swoop, another wave of that possessive feeling crashing through him. He pulled back after only a moment, hand still on Whitaker’s face. The other man’s eyes opened slowly, his pupils blown wide. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. He sounded breathless already. “Your beard tickles. Alex doesn’t have facial hair.”

I’m going to kiss you so hard that you forget his name, and then fuck you until you can only say mine. Robby swallowed. “Is it okay?”

“I kinda like it,” Whitaker giggled. Robby couldn’t help but smile back. 

Robby leaned in again, this time with more intent. He traced his tongue along the seam of Whitaker’s lips, and he opened up immediately, allowing Robby’s tongue to tangle with his own. Robby moved slowly, rubbing his tongue along each of Whitaker’s teeth, across the roof of his mouth, before sucking on his lip as he pulled away. He didn’t have a chance to catch his breath before Whitaker dove back in, his hands latching onto Robby’s shoulders as he licked hungrily into his mouth. 

Robby pulled away just enough to say "c'mere," his voice already raw with lust, and Whitaker eagerly clambered into his lap. Robby settled his hands on the small of Whitaker’s back as he settled in, straddling his thighs. The boy looked starving, licking his spit-slick lips as he gazed down at Robby. 

“You’re really good at this,” he whispered. "I never get this turned on from kissing—”

Robby captured his lips again before Whitaker could say his name. “Well, that’s why I'm here to teach you,” he murmured into his mouth. He slipped a hand up the back of Whitaker’s shirt (his shirt, really, but he was starting to think Whitaker should just keep it—it looked better on him, anyway). His skin was hot to the touch, and he shivered and gasped into the kiss. 

“Robby,” he groaned, grinding down into Robby’s lap. Robby moaned in response, feeling Whitaker’s soft ass pushing against his erection. He let his other hand drift down, squeezing an ass cheek. Whitaker moaned, his head dropping against Robby’s shoulder as he continued to grind desperately against him. 

“You like that, Den?” Robby squeezed his ass again, his lips pecking soft kisses along his neck. Whitaker nodded; his breath was coming in short huffs as he continued moving his hips, searching for more friction. Robby rolled his own hips up, pushing his erection against Whitaker’s cunt through their clothes, and the boy’s subsequent moan made him throb.  

“Fuck, Robby,” Whitaker whined. “Yeah, fuck, keep doing that.”

Robby's hands gripped his waist, pulling him down as he pushed his hips up, grinding their cocks against each other. Whitaker was soaking through his boxers, leaving damp patches on Robby's sweatpants. He tilted his head up, catching Whitaker's lips with his. When he pulled away, he took Whitaker’s lower lip between his teeth, nipping at it. 

“Do you want me to…?” Robby trailed off, letting his thumb dip below the waistband of Whitaker’s boxers. Whitaker took in a sharp breath and nodded.

“I don't think I’ll last long,” Whitaker warned as he dismounted Robby, slipping his soaked boxers off and sitting against the headboard. 

Me neither, kid. “That's okay. I'll go slow.” 

Robby lowered himself onto his stomach between Whitaker's legs. He ran his hands up and down Whitaker’s thighs—he was tense, nervous.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable,” he assured.

Whitaker shook his head. “I’m fine. Nervous, yeah, but more…curious?”

Robby raised an eyebrow. “Curious. Alright. Let's see if I can satiate your curiosity.”

He turned and pressed his lips to the inside of Whitaker's thigh. He peppered kisses and soft bites across the sensitive skin, relishing in each gasp and twitch it brought out of the other man. When he finally turned his attention to his cunt, he continued this pattern, kissing around the outside of his mound, the curls tickling his lips. When he stuck out his tongue to give a kitten lick to the tip of Whitaker's cock, the man gasped sharply, his thighs squeezing around Robby's head.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, spreading his legs again. Robby looped an arm under one thigh and hiked it over his shoulder. 

“It's okay. You don’t need to apologize for anything, Den.”

“Okay.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Keep going? Please?”

“Of course.” Robby pressed another kiss to Whitaker's cock before licking a long stripe up his slit, gathering the slick that had accumulated there. Whitaker moaned, said something, but one taste already had Robby drunk, and he was diving in head first.

“Holy Jesus—Robby!”

Robby groaned as he wrapped his lips around Whitaker's cock, swirling his tongue over it. He tasted salty and tangy and smelled like soap and Robby didn’t know if he would be able to go another day without burying his head between his legs. He used both hands to pull Whitaker further down the bed, pressing his full face into his cunt. He dipped his tongue down to lap at his opening. Robby could feel his beard getting soaked; he grinded his hips into the mattress, his cock throbbing painfully. 

“Robby,” Whitaker whined. His hips were bucking up into Robby's face, dragging his cock along Robby’s nose as he speared Whitaker open with his tongue. Robby moved his hand so he could press two fingers inside Whitaker—he was so wet, the slide was easy—and returned his mouth to his cock, sucking and licking and kissing. Whitaker's hand shot down, tangling in Robby's hair, and he groaned into his cunt, allowing Whitaker to take control and grind against his face.

“Oh God, Robby—fuck, that feels so fucking good, shit, I’m close!”

Robby slipped a third finger in, curling them upward, and sucked hard on Whitaker's cock. He felt his thighs trembling, squeezing around his head, his heels digging into his back, hands pulling tightly at his hair. Then, a gush of arousal splashed across Robby’s face, filling his mouth and nose as he worked Whitaker through his orgasm.

“Fuck—oh, my God!”

When Robby finally detached his mouth from Whitaker’s cunt, he was quite literally soaking wet, slick dripping from his chin onto the already ruined sheets. Whitaker sat up with a hand clapped over his mouth, pure fear in his eyes.

“Did—Did I just pee on you?“

Robby licked his lips, savoring the remnants of Whitaker's cum. “Nope. Sometimes when people with vaginas orgasm, they ejaculate quite a bit. It's completely normal.”

Whitaker relaxed slightly. “O-Okay. I've never…that’s never happened to me before.”

Robby bit back a moan, mentally adding first to make Whitaker squirt to the growing lists of titles he could now claim. “Did it feel good? Not just the orgasm, but the whole…” He gestured to his mouth and then to Whitaker's cunt. 

“Good? Jesus, Robby, it felt fucking awesome. I didn't know anything could feel that good.”

“Good. Great. Fantastic,” Robby smiled. He paused awkwardly, still situated on his knees between Whitaker's spread legs. “Uh, did you still want to—”

“Fuck, yeah, yes,” Whitaker rushed. He rolled over onto his stomach and propped himself up on his hands and knees, presenting his ass to Robby. He peered over his shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

Okay? I would have you like this every single fucking day if I could. He rubbed his hands over Whitaker's hips. “Perfect. I just need to grab a condom real quick.”

“You don’t have to.”

The silence that filled the room was deafening. Robby swallowed thickly. “Excuse me?”

Whitaker tucked his head under his arm, clearly embarrassed. “Well, I mean, I won't stop you, if you want to use one. I just mean…I don’t mind if you don’t. It feels nicer, and I trust you.”

“Does…does your boyfriend use one?”

Whitaker lifted his head slightly. “Yeah. Of course he does.”

Robby could barely breathe. “But you don’t want me to?”

“Just—fuck, whatever, just put one on, please, I need you inside me.”

“Whitaker. Look at me.” 

The younger man twisted his upper body as far as he could, meeting Robby's gaze. He looked all at once extremely horny and extremely terrified.

“You understand the risks of not using protection.”

“God, don’t turn this into a lecture—”

“Whitaker. Just—I need you to say to me, right now, that you understand the risks of not using protection, and that you still want to do this.”

Whitaker's eyes widened. “I understand,” he whispered. “I want this.”

“Good talk.” Robby lowered his sweats, quickly pumping his cock before rubbing the tip against Whitaker's entrance. “I’m going to fuck you now, okay baby?”

“Oh my God,” Whitaker whimpered. “Yes, please.”

Robby's hands gripped Whitaker's hips tightly as he pushed in. It was just as wet and hot and tight as the first time, and Robby couldn’t help but groan as he slid in, watching with reverence as Whitaker's hole greedily swallowed him up. He could see Whitaker’s arms tremble, struggling to hold himself up.

“How does it feel?” Robby managed to say after he bottomed out, lifting Whitaker's shirt to rub at the small of his back. Whitaker turned to gaze back at Robby. He looked cock drunk already. 

“You’re fucking huge,” he gasped. “Fuck, you’re so deep, I can feel you in my throat.”

It was something Robby had heard time and time again from his previous partners, but hearing it from Whitaker in particular made him throb. “Yeah? Bigger than your boy?”

“Fuck yeah, way bigger,” Whitaker laughed. Bigger and better, Robby thought to himself. “Feels so good, Robby.”

“That’s good, baby,” he said. He leaned down until his chest was pressed against Whitaker's back, planting a kiss to his neck. Whitaker shivered, cunt clenching around him as his cock pushed impossibly deeper at this new angle. “I’m gonna move now. You tell me if you need to stop.”

He pulled out until just the tip remained inside, then slowly reentered, eyes pinching shut as he staved off his orgasm. He continued to pump his hips slowly, eyes glued to Whitaker’s form below him—how his plush ass jiggled with each thrust, how his waist was so small Robby's hands could wrap all the way around, how the curls at the back of his neck stuck to the skin, slick with sweat. Whitaker must have been getting impatient, because he squeezed around Robby and shook his hips. Robby grinned and pinched his ass, delighting at the yelp it elicited. 

“You want more, baby?” Whitaker groaned, shook his hips again. 

Robby drew back and snapped his hips in response, causing Whitaker’s arms to fly out from under him and knocking the headboard against the wall. Whitaker's resulting moan, muffled by the pillow his face was now buried in, told Robby that this was the correct approach, and he tightened his grip on the boy's hips, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of the bed springs squeaking, Robby's balls slapping against Whitaker's wet cunt, his ragged breathing, and Whitaker's breathless moans of pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight, feels so good,” Robby babbled. He knew he should stay quiet, this wasn’t about him, but he felt so overcome with lust that he couldn’t hold back. “You take my cock so well, so perfect for me.”

Whitaker gasped something just then, something that Robby could just barely make out over all the other noise. Something that made him come to a standstill, balls deep inside his cunt, heart hammering in his chest. 

“What was that, Den?”

Whitaker shook his head, his face still buried in the pillow. Robby felt possessed as he reached down and gripped the boy by the hair, lifting him up.

“‘M sorry, didn’t mean to say that,” Whitaker sniffled. His face was red, imprints of the pillow etched into his face. He was covered in drool and snot and tears, eyes wide, completely fucked out.

“No, say it again. It's okay, Denny. Tell me what you said.”

Whitaker screwed his face up tight. His lashes glinted in the overhead light, wet with tears. He tried to pull away, but Robby held fast. 

“D…Daddy…”

Robby rewarded him with a roll of his hips, pulsing at the way Whitaker's jaw dropped open as he gasped in pleasure. “Good boy. You wanna call me daddy, baby? That’s okay. You can call me whatever you want.” Please, God, please call me that. 

“Faster, daddy, please?”

“You want it faster? Daddy can go faster.” Robby dropped Whitaker's head back onto the pillow and propped himself up on one foot to give himself better leverage. Once his hands were back on Whitaker's hips, Robby's mind went blank. 

It was all so much. The obscene wet sounds of Whitaker’s pussy fluttering around his cock, the whines and whimpers and moans of daddy echoing off the walls, his own blood rushing in his ears. He could feel his lips moving but he had no idea what he was saying. In the midst of it all, the thought of damn, I’m going to get a noise complaint wafted through his brain, but it was quickly overtaken by the sound of Whitaker begging for something. Robby reached a hand underneath the boy to tug at his cock, grinning as jumbled words poured from his lips.

“What's that baby? What do you want?”

“Cum in me, daddy, please?” He gasped, eyes wide and pleading. “Inside, please, ‘m so close.”

Robby felt like an eighteen wheeler just crashed into him. The rational part of his mind was screaming, ringing alarm bells—but he had long since stopped listening. The bigger part, the selfish, horny, greedy part, pinched Whitaker's cock between his fingers and pounded his cunt harder. 

“You want daddy to cum in you? Fill you up?”

“Please—ah, please, please?”

Robby couldn't hold back anymore, not when Whitaker was begging so sweetly. He buried himself to the hilt, pressing his whole weight against the younger man as he spilled his load inside his wet cunt, panting in his ear. His hand continued working Whitaker's cock until he felt him tense, followed by a spray of wetness hitting his thighs as Whitaker gasped and shook beneath him. 

“Jesus Christ,” Robby groaned. His head was swimming. He pulled himself out and off of Whitaker, collapsing on the bed beside him. For a moment, all was quiet except for the quiet pants of the two men attempting to get their breathing back under control.

“I'm sorry.” Robby turned to see Whitaker with his knees drawn to his chest, head in his hands. 

“You gotta stop apologizing, Dennis. I already said it was okay.”

“I know, but still. I didn't mean to…it's just…embarrassing.”

Robby reached out and ruffled his hair. "Isn't that the whole point of this, though? Figuring stuff out for you? What feels right?”

Whitaker sighed. “I guess.” He moved his hands and peered down between his legs. Robby followed his gaze and sucked in a breath as they both watched his cum slowly seep onto the sheets below. Robby could have sworn he saw Whitaker's cock twitch, but the sound of him clearing his throat drew his attention back to his face.

“I should probably take another shower,” he murmured. Robby huffed.

“R-Right. Here—I’ll start a load of laundry. You go shower.” He helped Whitaker to his feet, the younger man trembling like a baby deer, and ushered him to the bathroom. Once the door closed and the water started, Robby got dressed and busied himself with gathering his sheets and their clothes and hurried down the hall to the washing machine. 

As he sat on the floor and watched the machine begin to fill with water, Robby laughed. He laughed so hard that he doubled over, tears springing from the corners of his eyes.

He was fucked. So fucked. Unequivocally, irrevocably fucked. 

*****

September 24, 2026

Robby slipped a $100 bill with a sticky note attached in Whitaker’s locker the next morning. That night, Whitaker sent a selfie of him holding the box of Plan B with a thumbs up. Robby told him to keep the change. 

*****

September 25, 2025

[19:32] Whitaker: you left bruises

[19:32] Whitaker: [image attached]

[19:40] Robby: Jesus. Warn a guy before you send pictures like that.

[19:41] Whitaker: ? its not like im naked, its just my waist

[19:41] Robby: Point still stands. 

[19:42] Whitaker: i had to tell alex it was a workplace injury

[19:44] Robby: Sorry.

[19:45] Whitaker: its okay lol. just be more careful next time ^_^

[19:45] Robby: Right. Next time. See you on Wednesday? 

September 30, 2026

It was almost 10 PM when they left the Pitt. There wasn’t some disastrous event that kept them, thank God, but neither of them seemed to be able to get away without being called back to help with this patient or that. Actually, only Robby needed to stay that late. Whitaker took notice and made himself useful until he was released.

“You sure you still want to…” Robby trailed off as they walked to his car. “It's late.”

“I'm not working tomorrow,” Whitaker replied. “I don't mind being out late. I'll sleep it off.” He turned to Robby as they reached the vehicle. “Is…are you okay with still…?”

“It just so happens that I am off tomorrow as well.” Robby unlocked the car. “You wanna grab some chow?”

They ate at a diner down the street from the hospital. Robby ordered a hamburger and fries; Whitaker got pancakes with hash browns and bacon. “I like breakfast food,” he giggled when Robby gave him a questioning yet amused look. 

When Robby called for the check, a tiny old lady tottered over. “Oh, how sweet,” she cooed, looking from Robby to Whitaker and back. “A little father-son bonding time. Will that be all for tonight?”

Whitaker turned bright red in an instant. “Oh, no—I mean, yes, but—”

“We're all set,” Robby smiled, handing her his credit card. He turned back to Whitaker as she left. “So…should I not expect to be called da—”

Whitaker stepped on his foot under the table. “I told you I didn't mean to,” he hissed. Robby couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was. 

“And I told you it was fine,” he shrugged. “Up to you, Denny."

It wasn't until they got back to his apartment that Robby realized they hadn’t even spoken about their arrangement. He glanced nervously at Whitaker as they stepped inside. “You haven’t told me yet what we’re doing tonight.”

“Oh, yeah,” Whitaker said, as if it was an afterthought and not the whole reason he was there. “Can I ride you?”

Robby had learned by now that Whitaker could propose just about anything and his blood would immediately start rushing south, but he had been waiting for this since their arrangement had first begun. “Yes! Yes. Uh, yeah. Totally.”

Whitaker beamed. “You can shower first. I'll keep myself entertained.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Robby was speed walking towards the bathroom. 

As usual, Robby's quick, cold shower did nothing to hamper the heat in his stomach and the pressure between his legs. It also didn't help that Whitaker took longer than usual, leading to Robby pacing back and forth, full of restless energy.

When Whitaker finally stepped into the bedroom, Robby had to hold himself back from jumping his bones. Whitaker still looked embarrassed, like he had earlier at the restaurant. Robby worried that his joke really got to him.

“You okay, Den?”

Whitaker blushed and nodded, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed. “I, uh. Tried to prep myself a little in the shower.” He pinched the bedsheets between his thumb and pointer finger. “Sorry. I'm a little pent up, I guess.”

Robby sat next to him, rubbing a hand across his back. “No need to apologize. Saves us a little time, hm?” He let his hand drift down to Whitaker's waist, pulling him closer. “Pent up, you say?”

“Yeah.” Whitaker looked up at Robby with those big doe eyes, and his chest tightened. “Alex and I have sex pretty often, but he never makes me finish. Sometimes I come close, but then he gets tired, or I get tired, or I just fake it.”

Robby frowned, trying to put on a concerned front while inside he was practically jumping for joy. I don't have that problem. I can make you cum over and over. “I'm sorry, Den. Have you tried talking to him about it?”

Whitaker nodded. “Always ends up with him telling me I'm the one doing something wrong. Which is why I think I need more practice.” His gaze fell from Robby's eyes to his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Robby knew Whitaker was diverting, but he was a selfish man. “Sure you can, baby.”

Robby pushed himself further up the bed, patting his lap. Whitaker scrambled into it quickly, settling his warm weight across Robby's thighs. He wrapped his arms around Whitaker's waist and pulled him in, their kiss open and wanting. 

Robby’s hands drifted—one up the back of Whitaker's shirt, the other down to his ass, squeezing lightly, encouraging him to roll his hips. He startled when the tips of his fingers made contact with the flesh of his thigh and pulled back, peering down at what the younger man had on. 

He hadn’t noticed it when Whitaker came out of the bathroom—too focused on his demeanor, and the way Robby's old college shirt hung off his shoulder—but he wasn’t wearing boxers like usual. Instead, he wore a pair of pale blue panties that hugged his ass tight. Robby lifted Whitaker's shirt a bit more to see where the fabric stretched over his cunt, and his heart almost stopped. He could see his cock pushing against the fabric, and a large wet spot that made the panties almost translucent. 

“Jesus, are you trying to kill me?”

Whitaker buried his head into Robby's shoulder and whined. “I haven't done laundry in, like, a week. Leave me alone.”

I hope you never do laundry again. Robby shook his head. “No, they look…you look nice. I like them.”

Whitaker squirmed in his lap then, rubbing their clothed cocks against each other. Robby watched with wide eyes and bated breath as the cotton of his boxers slowly got wetter with each drag of Whitaker's hips. “Baby, fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Need you,” Whitaker whimpered. “Fuck, Robby.”

Robby lowered his boxers enough so that his cock laid against his stomach, the tip already sticky with precum. He pulled Whitaker's panties to the side, and they groaned in unison at the slide, now uninhibited by clothing. With their combined wetness, Whitaker's cunt practically glided along his cock.

“Fuck, keep doing that—yeah, get it nice and wet, so wet for me, gonna slide in you so easy,” Robby encouraged. 

They pressed their foreheads together, their breath coming hot and heavy as they stared at where their bodies met. Robby didnt think he’d seen anything as wet or as erotic in his entire fucking life. 

“Okay, shit, I need to be inside you,” he gasped as Whitaker reached down, gathering some of Robby's precum and slathering it across his cunt. “Christ, now or I’ll finish before we even start.” 

Robby would’ve been fine just keeping Whitaker's panties pushed to the side, but he let the boy climb off him and discard them by the side of the bed. When he clambered back into Robby's lap, he dragged his soaked cunt across his cock again, gasping at the sensation. 

“C’mere, baby, let me help,” Robby murmured. He slipped his hands under Whitaker's shirt, finding his waist, and lifted him slightly. “Okay, now grab my—fuck, yeah, exactly, line it up…”

His grip remained strong on Whitaker's waist as he lowered himself ever so slowly onto his cock. He was tight, far tighter than the last two times—obviously as a result of less foreplay. Whitaker didn’t seem to care though, even as he bit his lip to stifle his whimper of pain, his fingernails digging into Robby's shoulders. 

“Oh my God,” he breathed as he settled his ass against Robby’s pelvis. “I don't think I'll ever get used to how big you are.”

Robby tried to ignore how that made his cock twitch and focused on rubbing soothing circles into Whitaker's thighs. “Just stay here a minute, baby. Adjust, then you can start, okay?”

Whitaker nodded, rocking back and forth and moaning quietly as his dick rubbed against Robby’s stomach. Robby stared at his face, flushed pink, and fought the urge to kiss his cheeks.

“I, um,” Whitaker said, avoiding Robby's eyes. “I know I've been keeping my shirt on for these. but I wanted to try taking it off today.”

Robby’s eyes widened in surprise. He had noticed Whitaker never took off his shirt, but he never asked why or pushed for him to remove it. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

Whitaker nodded, toying with the hem of his shirt. “I usually keep it on because I don't…I haven’t had top surgery. I mean, my boobs are pretty small already, so I guess it doesn’t matter much.” As he spoke, he continued to gyrate his hips slowly, and Robby was finding it harder and harder to pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth. “But the other day, I was, uh…I was jerking off, and I touched my nipples. And it felt really, really good.”

Robby's mouth went dry. He pictured Whitaker lying in bed, one hand playing with his nipples, the other tugging at his cock. “Do you want me to touch your chest?”

“You can call them tits. Boobs. Whatever. But yes, please?”

Robby could still hear the hint of hesitation in his voice. “How about we both take off our shirts. Call it even.”

Whitaker smiled. He lifted the hem of his shirt, and Robby did the same, both quickly shucking off the garments and tossing them on the floor. Robby himself knew what it was likely to be insecure about his body—he was severely out of shape, developing what Dana liked to call a “dad bod.” As he turned his eyes to Whitaker, though, it didn't seem that he minded one bit that Robby had a bit of a belly. 

“Fuck, you’re really hot.” Whitaker ran his hands over Robby's stomach, tracing the path of his happy trail up to the hair that covered his chest. “Jesus. Sorry. I shouldn't—”

“I’ll take the compliment, kid.” Robby smiled easily, even as his heart did somersaults. Now it was his turn to take in Whitaker, fully naked in front of him—or rather, on top of him—for the first time.

Robby had been to many an art museum in his life. He had seen the works of Monet, Michelangelo, Van Gogh. All of them paled in comparison to the vision of the boy in his lap.

It was easy to assume Whitaker was skinny—he radiated the energy of a sad, wet dog, all eyebags and hunched shoulders. In reality, he was anything but. Robby already had some sense of this from seeing bits and pieces of the younger man, but seeing him completely bare blew him away. He wasn't big by any means, but he was strong, muscles evident just under his pale skin. His shoulders were broad, his biceps pronounced, his torso tapering down into a trim waist before swelling back out slightly at his hips. Robby took a moment to run his hands over his arms and down his waist, trying to memorize the shape of his body.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. He knew he shouldn’t have. He couldn't help himself.

Whitaker blushed. He looked like he wanted to cover himself with his arms, but they remained planted on Robby's chest. “Thanks.”

Robby finally turned his attention to Whitaker’s chest. He had been dreaming about this moment like a fucking pervert ever since their first lesson—probably before that, if he was being honest with himself. He moved his hands slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, and gently cupped his tits. They were small enough to easily fit in the palm of his hands. Fuck. That’s so cute. 

He hesitated for a moment before he swiped his thumbs across each nipple. The reaction was instant—Whitaker gasped, his back arching, pushing his tits further into Robby's grasp. His cunt spasmed around his cock. 

“Sensitive,” Robby murmured. He repeated the motion, eliciting the same reaction, and then pinched the left nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Jesus fuck—Robby,” Whitaker moaned. He was grinding against him again, moving his hips back and forth. “I’m ready, I need to move—”

“Hold on,” Robby said. He massaged his tits for a moment, then leaned forward and swirled his tongue around one of the buds. He felt Whitaker's entire body go taut as a wire, hands scrambling for purchase on Robby's back, shoulders, hair. 

“God, I'm gonna—I'm gonna cum before I even get to ride you,” Whitaker whimpered. Robby hummed and moved to his other tit, palming the first with his hand. When he drew back, both nipples were red and wet and hard. 

“You wanna ride me now, baby?”

Whitaker didn't deign him with a verbal response. Robby watched as he raised himself up—his legs were trembling, brows furrowed in concentration—and slowly lowered himself back down, gasping as Robby's length reentered him. 

“Fuck, I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he grumbled. 

“It's okay. Go slow, find your rhythm.”

Whitaker heeded Robby's advice and started with slow bounces, only lifting up two or three inches at a time before dropping back down. Robby whispered encouragement, trying his hardest to focus on making sure Whitaker felt good and less on the fact that his tits were bouncing with each movement and how it made Robby want to fuck up into him faster.

Slowly, Whitaker's legs began to tremble less, and his rhythm became quicker and steadier. The wet, sticky sound of his cunt pressing against Robby's pelvis with each bounce joined his breathless gasps and Robby's continued encouragement. 

“Taking me so well, look at you,” he cooed. “Fast learner. What a good boy you are.”

Whitaker groaned at that, his bounces getting faster, and Robby grinned. He reached up to play with his nipples, pinching and rubbing and tugging, and moaned at the way Whitaker’s cunt clenched around him. 

“Fuck, I—I think I might cum,” Whitaker gasped. Beads of sweat were beginning to drip down his forehead. Robby's eyes caught one slipping between his tits, sliding down his stomach. He wanted to lick it off of him.

“Good, baby,” Robby said. He kept one hand on Whitaker's tit and moved the other to rub his cock. The hair on his  stomach was drenched, matted from where Whitaker had been rutting against him. It only took a few strokes before Whitaker was shaking, his stomach muscles clenching and unclenching rapidly, hips grinding desperately down against Robby's pelvis. 

“Good job,” Robby smiled. “You tired? You want me to take care of the rest?” He was only moments away from his own orgasm, but he could see how Whitaker's legs were starting to give out beneath him. The boy nodded, eyes wet and hazy. 

Whitaker yelped when Robby tugged him down, pressing them chest to chest. He planted both feet on the bed, wrapped his arms around Whitaker's waist, took a deep breath, and started jackhammering into his cunt.

Whitaker choked on his own spit, jarred by the velocity of Robby's thrusts. “Yeah? You like that, baby?” Robby grunted into his ear. 

“Je—sus—da—mmf!”

Whitaker bit down onto Robby's shoulder, cutting off his cries of pleasure. Robby stopped moving, holding Whitaker in place against his chest.

“What was that, baby?”

“No,” he whined, “Don’t—don’t stop!”

“I'll keep going if you say what you want to say.”

Whitaker dug his nails into Robby's arms, but it was to no avail. Robby shivered as he felt Whitaker turn his head, his lips pressed against his ear. 

“Daddy…harder, daddy, please?”

Robby hands cupped Whitaker's ass. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

There wasn’t much talking after that, aside from Whitaker’s staccato moans of daddy and please and more and Robby’s own grunts and pants. He fucked Whitaker hard—as hard as he had dreamed of, as hard as he had wanted to these past few weeks—and the kid loved it. Robby could feel him drooling against his shoulder, whining, fluttering around his cock. At some point, his noises became so high pitched and desperate that Robby could tell he had come a second time, his cock trapped between their stomachs.

“Fuck, baby, gonna come, gonna fill you up,” Robby panted. In the back of his mind, he realized they had skipped the conversation about condoms entirely this time. Not that he minded, of course. He never wanted to experience being in Whitaker's cunt any other way but raw. 

“Fuck—da—ddy—please—yes!” Whitaker groaned with each thrust. That was all it took for Robby to tumble over the edge, hips pistoning upwards one final time and releasing deep inside his soaked pussy. They both sighed in pleasure, Robby planting kisses onto every inch of skin he could reach, while Whitaker pressed his full weight against him, completely boneless. 

Whitaker sighed. “I love when you cum inside me, but I'm too tired to shower again.” 

Robby was struck with an idea. It was selfish. So, so selfish. But what part of this wasn’t? 

“I have a solution.”

Before Whitaker could even ask, Robby pushed his shoulders until he was sitting again, then lifted him up and off of his cock. Whitaker made a noise between a yelp and a gasp, a question somewhere in the mix, but it dissolved into a moan when his oversensitive cock brushed against Robby's nose and his tongue began lapping up the seed dripping from his cunt.

“Oh my God, oh!” Whitaker moaned, his hands scrambling to grab the headboard. Robby squeezed his ass, urging him to grind down onto his face, and Whitaker either got the message or was so desperately horny (or maybe both) that he did so immediately. Robby smiled as he moaned and licked into him. It was messy and wet and Robby was so turned on that he thought for a moment he might actually get hard again.

“Daddy,” Whitaker moaned, and Jesus, hearing that said into the open air instead of muffled into a pillow or his shoulder was nothing short of life changing. If he had it his way, Whitaker would only call him daddy for the rest of time—even if it meant he’d never get anything done, because every time Whitaker said it, Robby would be overcome by the urge to bend him over and fuck him until he cried. 

“Daddy,” Whitaker panted again. “I’m gonna—again, God, it hurts but it feels so good?“

Robby squeezed his thighs, pulled him down harder onto his face, as if to say go on, baby boy, come for daddy one more time. Whitaker's third orgasm tore through his body, leaving him a shaking mess, collapsing his full weight onto Robby's face. Robby was quick to maneuver the younger man off of him and lay him on the bed.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he murmured, pushing Whitaker's sweat-slicked curls off his forehead. “So good for daddy.”

Whitaker whined, curling inwards towards Robby. Robby let him, enveloping Whitaker in his arms. We fit together so well, he thought. Like puzzle pieces.

“Still need to clean up,” he murmured into the crown of Whitaker's skull. His hair was damp and soft. It smelled like Robby’s shampoo.

Whitaker burrowed further into him. “Can we lay here like this a little longer?” 

Robby pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Of course, sweetheart.”

*****

October 1, 2026

Robby never let hookups sleep over. Whitaker, though, was not a hookup.

They fell asleep like that, curled up against each other, skin still slick with sweat, the smell of sex heavy in the air around them. Robby woke in the middle of the night to Whitaker splayed on top of him, head on his chest, their fingers interlaced. He pulled a blanket over the two of them and fell back asleep. 

The next morning, he roused the younger boy awake, urging him to pee and take another shower. Sleepy Whitaker is very clingy, he learned. The kid didn't want to let go of Robby, didn’t want to remove himself from the warm little nest they had created. 

When he finally complied, groggy and grumpy, Robby used the opportunity to slip out to the local bakery to grab two coffees and some bagels. He also made a pitstop at the pharmacy. 

The girl ringing him up eyed the singular box of Plan B warily. “Not ready for a kid yet? Or too old for one?”

Robby laughed. “A bit of both.”

When he returned, Whitaker was curled in a ball on his couch, flipping through an academic journal. He perked up when Robby came in, nose immediately sniffing out the contents of the bag he held. 

“Take this first,” Robby prompted, passing him the medication. Whitaker opened it, popped the pill in his mouth, and washed it down with the cup Robby had placed in front of him.

“Eugh,” he groaned. “Black? Seriously?”

Robby watched with barely concealed amusement and slight horror as Whitaker poured an egregious amount of sugar and milk into his drink. He sipped the concoction and hummed. 

“Better?”

“Much.”

After they ate, Whitaker threw on his clothes from the previous day and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Robby felt compelled to ask him to stay. He didn't. 

“Thanks, Dr. Robby," he smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

“Right,” he sighed. “See you tomorrow.”

*****

October 3, 2026

[17:22] Whitaker: did i ever tell you i ride horses?

[17:23] Robby: No, you never mentioned it.

[17:23] Whitaker: i kinda forgot about it until after i rode you and my thighs were hurting so bad 

[17:23] Whitaker: and then i was having flashbacks to when i took lessons as a kid 

[17:25] Whitaker: anyway our practice really helped i rode alex for like an hour lol

[17:25] Robby: We should try it again. Practice makes perfect.

[17:26] Robby: You can ride me like a horse any day, cowboy. 

[17:26] Robby: I fuck you better than he ever will. 

[17:30] Robby: I'm glad.

[17:30] Robby: Anything else on that list of yours?

[17:32] Whitaker: just one thing…

October 7, 2026

“Alex wants to try anal.”

Robby dropped his water bottle. He whipped his head around, checking to see if any eyes had been drawn to them by the loud clang of metal on tile. The area by the lockers was suspiciously empty.  

“Whitaker. Why are you telling me this now? Here?”

Whitaker shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. “Because…well…I know it's different from, um—”

“Christ,” Robby murmured. He could not get hard on the clock. He refused. He bent down and scooped up his water bottle before turning on his heel. “Come with me.”

He led Whitaker down a hallway and through a door to the ED offices. Robby couldn't remember the last time he stood in his office, much less sat down and did work at the desk. He slid his key in the lock and opened the door, a wall of stale air greeting him. Whitaker stepped in meekly behind him, letting the door fall shut.

“I'm wearing a plug,” Whitaker rushed out. Robby felt like he had just been punched in the chest, all of the air rushing out of his lungs. 

“A butt plug,” he continued, as if Robby was picturing anything else. He swallowed thickly. 

“Right now?” The younger man nodded. 

“Do you…do you want to see?”

Robby groaned. “Kid…”

“Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t—we're at work," Whitaker shook his head, his curls flying this way and that. “Sorry. I'm gonna—”

Robby grabbed him before he could turn for the door, hands on his waist. Whitaker gasped, stumbling into his arms, hands braced against his chest. 

“You’re that desperate for it?” Robby rasped. “So desperate that you’ll wear a plug for twelve hours? During a shift?”

Whitaker squirmed. “No,” he pouted. “I just wanted to help—to prepare myself.”

Robby grinned. His cock throbbed traitorously in his pants. “Show me.”

He stepped back and watched as Whitaker turned and bent over, lowering his scrubs ever so slightly. He was wearing panties again, baby pink this time—fuck, he has to be doing that on purpose. Whitaker peeked over his shoulder as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the garment, sliding it down just enough for Robby to see the shiny metal between his plush cheeks.

“Jesus,” he muttered. He reached out with both hands, massaging and groping Whitaker’s ass cheeks, spreading them wider to see the plug. It was silver, and the base of it had a soft, white plush ball attached. Fuck.

“A bunny tail?” 

“It was the cheapest one at Spencer’s,” Whitaker grumbled. Robby just shook his head in amazement. 

“You’re killing me, Den.”

“Took a while to get it in this morning,” Whitaker said, breathless. “A few fingers, a lot of lube—oh, ffffuck.”

Robby tugged at the base, pulling it out just enough for the widest part of the plug to slip past his rim, before shoving it back in. The wet squelch of lube and Whitaker's breathy gasp was deafeningly loud in his small office. 

“Robby,” he whined. His legs were starting to tremble. He could see his pubes sticking together with slick.

“Get back out there,” Robby said gruffly, yanking Whitaker's panties and scrubs back up and patting his ass. “I’ll see you at 7.”

Robby had to stand in his office for another five minutes before his dick got the message and softened enough for him to be presentable to his staff. He had to return to said office no less than five times over the course of the day, his dick being reminded of why it was fattening whenever he saw Whitaker bend over (he could see the swell of the bunny tail pressing against his scrubs), or wince when he sat down (soon it would be his cock driving into his ass, not the plug), or look at Robby with those big wet eyes, lips slightly parted, a question on the tip of his tongue (the same lips, same tongue that call him daddy, same eyes that beg sweetly for more, more, more). 

It was the longest twelve hours of Robby's life.

*****

At 7 PM sharp, Robby marched out of the Pitt. He wanted to drag Whitaker out with him by the scruff of his neck, but he resisted the urge, simply giving him a pointed look and a nod as he headed toward the ambulance bay.

It was 7:02 when they pulled out of the parking lot; 7:09 when they parked outside his apartment; 7:10 when they passed the threshold, their lips already connected. 

“Been teasing me all day, fuck, bending over like that,” Robby grunted into Whitaker’s mouth. “I thought bunnies were supposed to be cute, not slutty.”

Whitaker bit Robby's lip hard. “I thought you were supposed to be a professional doctor, not a pervert.”

You don’t even know the half of it. “Enough talk. Bedroom.”

They moved quickly, their shoes and jackets and clothes scattered throughout the apartment as they made their way to the bedroom. Their routine was thrown out the window—no dinner, no showers, no slow build up. The tension that had been simmering within and between them all day had boiled over. 

By the time Whitaker fell backwards onto the bed, both men were in their underwear, messily licking into each other's mouths. Robby brought a hand up to grope at Whitaker's tits, while Whitaker himself wrapped his arms around Robby's waist, sliding his hands up his back. 

“How do you want this?” Robby asked between kisses. Whitaker hummed. 

“On my back,” he said. Robby nodded and nipped at his ear. 

“I'll get the lube. Leave the plug in.”

“Wait,” Whitaker said, grabbing his wrist. “I want to—can I suck your dick first? Please?” 

“If I said no, I think you’d have to check me into a mental hospital,” Robby muttered, and Whitaker smiled triumphantly. He slid off the bed and onto his knees, hands sliding up Robby's thighs. Robby had a sudden vision of gliding his cock between his tits, drops of white cum on peaked pink nipples, and he had to close his eyes to ground himself. 

“I've learned some more things that I like while giving head since last time,” Whitaker said as he pulled down Robby's boxers. He took Robby's cock into his hand and kissed the tip. When he pulled away, his lips were shiny with precum. 

“I like it when my hair is pulled,” he whispered shyly. “I like it when the other person takes control.”

Robby shivered. “You want me to fuck your mouth, baby?”

Whitaker’s eyes fluttered shut, and he pressed more kisses down his length. “Please, daddy?”

Fuck. 

Robby gripped the base of his cock with one hand and threaded the fingers of his other through Whitaker's hair. The younger man opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. Robby tapped the head of his cock on his tongue twice before he slid past his lips. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me,” Rbby whispered. Whitaker's lips stretched thin around his girth as he pushed in inch by inch. “Shit, you’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

Whitaker's eyes crinkled at the corners. He reached out and put his hand against Robby's ass, pushing his hips forward. Robby moved until he felt the tip of his cock slide down his throat. 

The sensation made something in Robby snap. He wrapped a hand around Whitaker’s throat and pushed his cock in further, gasping as he felt the intrusion from the outside. After a few thrusts like this, feeling Whitaker swallow around him, he took his head in both hands and pushed him off his cock until just the tip remained inside. Then, with Whitaker looking up at him, eyes already watering, Robby thrusted all the way back in, hard. 

Whitaker's throat contracted around him, wet and tight, making a strangled noise that was muffled by his cock. Robby did it again, and again, and again, his balls slapping against the boy's chin. 

“Fuck, you were made for this, made for my cock,” Robby said. “You take me perfectly, baby.” Whitaker moaned, still pressing against Robby's ass as if telling him to go faster, harder. He was drooling like a puppy, jaw completely slack, letting Robby take as much as he wanted from him. 

“Jesus, okay,” Robby said, pulling Whitaker off his cock. In an ideal world, he’d keep going until he came down Whitaker’s throat, but they had other things on the agenda for the night. Whitaker’s hair was sticking up at all angles, and Robby found it extremely adorable. He whined, trying to grab Robby's cock to put it back in his mouth, but he stepped away, reaching for the bottle of lube on his dresser. 

“Do you want me to fuck your ass, baby? Then get on the bed.”

By the time he turned around, Whitaker was lying down, knees drawn to his chest. His cunt was wet, the curls around his cock clumped with arousal. The plug was still nestled in his ass. 

“My little bunny,” Robby teased. He ran a thumb over the soft material and pressed down slightly, pushing the plug further in before dragging it out slightly. Whitaker whined impatiently. 

“Don't worry, I got you, bunny.” He pulled the plug out entirely and tossed it on the bed behind him. Whitaker's hole clenched around nothing, the rim slick with lube. 

“This will feel different than vaginal sex,” Robby said. He was supposed to be teaching, wasn’t he? “You don’t have a prostate, so you might not feel the same pleasure as people who do have that anatomy. If it hurts or feels uncomfortable, we can stop. Just say the word.”

Whitaker nodded. “Can I touch myself while you fuck me?”

As if Robby wouldn’t pay millions of dollars to watch Whitaker jerk off. “Of course, baby. Of course you can.”

He lifted Whitaker's legs and wrapped them around his waist, shifting closer until the head of his cock brushed against his hole. When he pushed in, he watched Whitaker's face; it was screwed up tight, his head tilting back against the headboard.

“O-okay, I’m all the way in. Take a deep breath, baby. How's it feel?”

Whitaker let out a breath and relaxed his body slightly, eyes opening to stare at where Robby's cock disappeared inside him. “Feels so weird,” he said. “But also…kinda good?”

Robby realized he was holding Whitaker’s hips a bit too tightly, fingernails digging into his skin. He loosened his grip. 

“You’re doing so well,” Robby said. He leaned down and kissed his forehead. Somehow that was what made Whitaker blush, not the fact that Robby was balls deep in his ass.

Robby began moving, still focusing on Whitaker, his face, his reactions. It was hard—Whitaker’s hole was so tight and warm, and the knowledge that he was now the first to fuck his cunt and his ass was swirling around in his brain, making him feel deranged—but the younger man’s face was turning pink, his lips slightly parted, and God, he made the cutest noises. 

“Touch yourself, bunny. Let me see.”

Whitaker's hand snaked down his torso. He used two fingers to spread his folds, gathering slick and bringing it back up to circle his cock. He gasped, tightening around Robby's cock. 

“Fuck, that feels good,” Whitaker panted. He pinched and stroked his cock in time with Robby's thrusts. Robby couldn’t take his eyes off of his pussy, how it fluttered and clenched around nothing as he pounded into his ass. 

“Yeah, keep going,” Robby groaned. “Keep playing with your pussy, baby. Use your other hand on your nipples, play with your tits—fuck, yeah, fuck.”

Whitaker’s other hand cupped his right tit, squeezing it and rolling the nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. Robby watched, entranced, as his tits bounced with each movement of his hips. Whitaker dipped two fingers inside his cunt, grinding his cock against the heel of his palm.

“God, daddy,” Whitaker moaned. “More, please, more—”

Whitaker didn't need to ask twice. Robby pushed his legs up further, hooking one over his shoulder, and steadied himself against the headboard. The whole bed shook as Robby slammed into him, filling the room with the sound of wood creaking and box springs squeaking. He was half worried that he was going to break the bed frame. 

“Daddy, I’m gonna—more, please!” 

Whitaker's cunt was so wet that slick dripped down to where Robby’s cock was splitting him open. Robby gasped, eyes rolling back in his head.

“Shit, you’re so tight, baby, I'm gonna cum too,” he gritted out. 

Their orgasms were almost simultaneous—first Whitaker, his mouth dropped open in a silent gasp, then Robby, pushed over the edge by the sight of Whitaker’s cunt squirting and dripping onto his cock, and the sensation of his ass tightening around him. He bowed over, kissing Whitaker's forehead, then his nose, before finally reaching his lips. 

“‘M gonna be so sore tomorrow,” Whitaker groaned. Robby laughed. 

“Just wait until you’re my age, kid. Just wait.”

He rolled off of the younger man and laid next to him on the bed, catching his breath. His sweat was already starting to dry on his skin. “We should shower.”

Whitaker perked up. “Together?”

Fuck. Why not? “Sure. Saves me a couple cents on my water bill.”

He turned the shower on and got towels ready before stepping back into the bedroom to retrieve Whitaker. His legs were still wobbly, and he leaned on Robby the whole way to the shower. 

When they were in the shower, Whitaker reached for the shampoo, but Robby batted his hand away and squeezed some out in his own hands. He lathered Whitaker’s curls, dragging his fingertips along his scalp as he scrubbed. The younger man sighed, leaning forward to rest his head on Robby's chest, arms wrapped around his waist. 

“That feels really nice,” he murmured. “You could be a masseuse.”

Robby chuckled. “Yeah? Maybe a career change is in my future.”

He rinsed the suds out of Whitaker's hair and grabbed his body wash and a cloth. Just as with the shampoo, he methodically washed each part of Whitaker's body, starting with his arms and torso, then crouching down to get his lower half. Whitaker twitched as Robby's hands dragged the soapy cloth over his chest, his nipples still red and sensitive. He clung to Robby and whimpered as he ran the cloth between his legs, cleaning the sticky mess Robby had left there. 

“What about you?” Whitaker whispered when he was done. Robby barely heard him over the pounding of water against the tiled floor. 

“What about me?”

“Can I wash you off?”

Robby's chest tightened. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I want to.”

Robby wordlessly passed the cloth to Whitaker, who squeezed out more body wash and proceeded to clean every nook and cranny of Robby's body. Whitaker approached the task with the same level of gravitas as he would a surgery, his tongue poking out between his lips as he maneuvered Robby's body, lifting his arms and turning him around, squatting, then kneeling to wipe down his legs and feet. When he stood again, a satisfied smile on his face, Robby couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him. 

“You're so red right now,” Whitaker whispered when Robby finally pulled away. 

“It’s warm in here,” he said. They both knew that wasn’t why he was blushing. 

They finished up—another scalp massage to put conditioner in Whitaker’s curls, a quick shampoo job for Robby—and stepped out, bundling themselves in towels and returning to the bedroom. Whitaker plopped down on the bed with a yawn; he looked like he was going to fall asleep at any minute. 

“I’m gonna order a pizza,” Robby said. “Do you want to stay?”

Whitaker blinked sleepily. “Stay the night? Can’t. Working tomorrow.”

Robby shrugged. “I am too. I can give you a ride.”

“But won’t people—”

“If the need arises, I can handle the rumor mill, Den.” He paused. “Only if you want to. Or I can give you a ride back to your apartment now.”

Whitaker thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ll stay. Your bed is way more comfortable than mine. Sheets are nicer too.”

Robby smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

*****

They ate in the living room. Whitaker had pulled out one of Robby's many DVDs and popped it in the VCR, and they sat on the couch, Whitaker's legs draped over Robby's lap. Whitaker insisted on cleaning up; Robby insisted on helping. They tag-teamed the dishes, Whitaker washing and Robby drying; the younger man flicked water at him, and he laughed, playfully smacking him with the towel. Robby tried to ignore how much more lively and full his apartment was with the other man there.

There wasn’t any question about if they would sleep separately. When Robby turned in for the night, Whitaker followed, crawling under the sheets on the left side of Robby's bed. As Robby reached to turn out the light, he felt Whitaker slide closer, draping an arm across his torso. 

“Goodnight, Robby," he yawned. He already sounded half asleep. 

Robby turned and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, kid. See you bright and early.”

*****

October 8, 2026

Robby woke first, to the sound of his alarm. He burrowed his face further into the warm body wrapped in his arms, pressing his nose into the younger man’s neck. Whitaker smelled of coconut and dish soap and sleep. Robby wanted to bottle the smell and use it as an air freshener.

His alarm rang again, and he groaned, unwrapping his arms from around Whitaker's waist and swinging his legs off the bed. “C’mon, Den. Time to get up.”

Whitaker jolted awake, rubbing at his eyes. “Sorry. I'm up, I'm up.”

They got ready in near silence—but it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. Robby pulled on his cargo pants and scrub top while Whitaker used the bathroom. He started a pot of coffee and threw some granola bars in his backpack as the other man brushed his teeth. 

It was all painfully domestic. Robby shook his head as if to get rid of the thought.

As they put on their jackets and headed towards the door, he paused to run a hand through Whitaker's hair, separating and rearranging the curls. Whitaker’s eyes widened, a slight blush creeping across his face, and Robby coughed awkwardly, pulling his hand back like he had touched a burning stove. 

“Looks like a rat's nest.”

Whitaker grinned. “I guess I usually don’t pay much attention to my hair.” Robby had to fight the urge to kiss him silly. He shoved his hand in his pocket and cleared his throat. 

“Let's get going.” 

The only person who noticed their arrival together was Jack, and all he did was cock his head with an amused look on his face. When Robby shook his head, a silent don’t even start, Jack shrugged and laughed. 

“Knew it would happen eventually, brother. I see the way you look at him.” 

*****

October 11, 2026

[14:01] Robby: Is that the end of our lessons? You said you only had one thing left on your list. 

[14:02] Whitaker: i’d like to keep practicing some things 

[14:04] Whitaker: if that’s alright with you of course >_<

[14:04] Robby: It’s more than alright with me

[14:06] Robby: Sure. Just let me know when you’d like to come by. My schedule is pretty open. 

October 12–December 11, 2026

Whitaker kept coming over. Actually, it was getting to the point where it was rarer for Robby to be alone in his apartment.

There were no longer specific positions Whitaker wanted to try or agendas laid out for them during their meetings. He would simply ask Robby—either over text or in person—if he could come over. Robby always said yes.

They would usually eat dinner first; sometimes Robby would cook, sometimes Whitaker would cook, but most often they grabbed food out. “For doctors, we eat terribly,” Whitaker laughed around a mouthful of fries one night. Robby smiled.

Over the course of several meetings throughout the months of October and November, Robby and Whitaker made their way through his apartment. They had sex in the kitchen, Whitaker bent over the stone countertop, whining as his nipples brushed against the cold surface. They had sex in the living room, Whitaker bouncing in Robby’s lap as reruns of some 90s sitcom played in the background. They had sex in the shower (either too impatient to take them separately, or taking one together after they just had sex), Whitaker on his knees taking Robby’s length down his throat as Robby rubbed shampoo into his scalp. They had sex in the hallway, Whitaker perched on top of the washing machine as Robby mapped his folds with his tongue. 

Sometimes, they wouldn’t have sex at all. Sometimes Whitaker would just sit in Robby’s lap and they’d kiss slowly, lazily, for what felt like hours. Sometimes Robby was too tired, or couldn’t get it up, but Whitaker would never complain. “It’s okay,” he would say with a smile. “We can just watch a movie instead.”

Whitaker gradually started to occupy Robby’s apartment, even if he wasn’t physically there. He had a toothbrush in the bathroom, a designated mug for coffee; he always slept on the left side of the bed, and he started using the empty drawer of Robby’s dresser to hold extra pairs of underwear and scrubs. He slept over more often than not, always arguing that Robby’s apartment was warmer, that his blankets were softer, that his water pressure was better. As if Robby would ever make him leave. 

He spoke about his boyfriend less and less. Any time Robby tried to ask, Whitaker would shrug. “We’re good,” he’d say. “He took me out to this nice restaurant last week for our four month anniversary.” Was he any better in bed? “He never goes down on me ‘cause I don’t want to shave. And he still has never made me finish. It’s fine, though. I don’t mind.”

Every time, Robby would say Whitaker deserved someone better. Every time, Whitaker would just smile sadly. 

“I know. But I don’t know if anyone else would ever love me.”

*****

December 12, 2026

Whitaker often came over to Robby’s directly from Alex’s apartment. On these occasions, he was keyed up, desperate for release after Alex took his fill and fell asleep, leaving Whitaker high and dry.

These late night meetings were always fast and furious. Whitaker would practically jump Robby the second he opened the door, biting his lips and panting into his mouth. “I’m ready,” he’d whisper, “I don’t need any prep, please, just need you.” Robby would carry Whitaker to the bedroom and lay him out, kiss up and down his body as he undressed him. Sometimes he would fuck him; most times he would lay between the boy’s legs, eating him out, making him cum on his tongue over and over until he passed out. 

When he got a text from Whitaker at 2 AM on a Saturday morning asking to come over, he assumed it was one of those meetings. He wasn’t expecting Whitaker to push past him when he opened the door, face red, fists curled at his side. 

“Hey, hey,” Robby said, concern immediately coloring his features. “What’s wrong, Den?”

“Fucking Alex,” Whitaker fumed. Robby had never seen him this angry. Something twisted in his stomach.

“What did he do? Did he hurt you?” Do I need to beat the shit out of him? I’d kill him, if you asked me to. I would.

“No,” Whitaker huffed. “I just…I tried talking to him. About our relationship. How he never seems to care about what I want to do, where I want to go on dates, how I feel in bed. And he just…” Whitaker laughed. “Told me I was crazy. That I’m making stuff up, that I’m imagining things. That he's not the problem, I am. That he’s the perfect boyfriend, and really I should be doing more for him.”

Robby frowned. He walked over to the younger man and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. Whitaker immediately crumpled, pressing his face into Robby’s chest. 

“You know he’s wrong, Denny. From everything you’ve told me about him, it seems like he’s the one in the wrong.”

“I know,” Whitaker said, his voice muffled. “But I’ve never had any other relationship, so I don’t have anything to compare it to. It’s started to feel normal. And I’m so scared of losing him, of being alone.”

Robby rubbed Whitaker’s back, rocking them back and forth gently. “There are better people for you out there, Den. People who will treat you right without a second thought. People who won’t see you as a burden.” People like me. 

Whitaker titled his chin up. “You think so?”

Robby leaned down and kissed him. “I know so.”

Whitaker hummed and leaned up, searching for another kiss. One turned into two, into three, into Whitaker pushing his tongue past the seam of Robby’s lips and groaning, hands sliding up his back. 

“You want something, baby?” Robby asked, pulling away and kissing his nose. 

“Want you,” Whitaker whispered. 

Robby scooped Whitaker into his arms (he would regret that tomorrow) and carried him to the bedroom. Their movements were natural now, not awkward like they had been during their first few times. Robby knew just where to touch Whitaker to make him moan, gasp, whimper; he knew how hard to tug on his nipples, where to bite his neck, in order to make him arch into his touch. 

“I’m already—ah, already stretched,” Whitaker stuttered as Robby kissed his way up his thighs. “Please.”

Robby nuzzled his face against Whitaker’s crotch, nose pressing against where his hard cock jutted out from the fabric. He licked a stripe over it, wetting the already damp fabric. Whitaker shivered. 

“Robby, please.”

“I got you, baby. Don’t worry.”

Robby slid off Whitaker’s underwear with practiced precision and stood to discard his own boxers. He got back on the bed, and Whitaker immediately wrapped his legs around Robby’s waist. He would never say this to Whitaker, but he preferred missionary with him, loved watching Whitaker’s face as he gasped in pleasure, loved being able to lean down and swallow those gasps with his lips, loved interlacing his and Whitaker’s fingers over Whitaker’s lower abdomen, feeling the swell of his cock inside him, whispering see that baby? Look how well you take me. 

“How do you want it? Fast, slow?”

“Don’t care,” Whitaker whined, heels digging into Robby’s ass. “Just fuck me, please?”

Robby would never get tired of having sex with Whitaker. Every time felt as electric as the first—holding his breath as he pushed in, staring at how beautiful Whitaker was beneath him, all flushed cheeks and tight cunt and perfect tits. He leaned down as he bottomed out, kissing Whitaker slowly. Whitaker giggled as they pulled back. 

“Come on, old man. Show me what you got.”

“Old man?” Robby began thrusting shallowly. “That’s not what you’re usually calling me in these situations.”

Whitaker opened his mouth to retort, but he was cut off by a jarring noise that made both men freeze. 

I LIKE THE SOUND OF FUNKY MUSIC—

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Whitaker groaned as Robby laughed. 

“Never changed that ringtone, huh?”

“Shut up.” Whitaker reached for his phone on the bedside table, eyes widening as he read the name on the screen. “It’s Alex.”

“Answer it.”

“What—”

“Answer it. And put him on speaker.”

Whitaker stared up at Robby in a mixture of shock and horror. He glanced down at where Robby was still buried balls deep inside him. “You’re serious.”

“I want to hear what he has to say. Go on.”

Whitaker took a deep breath. His hand trembled as he pressed the green button. “Hello?”

“Dennis? Are you okay?”

Robby leaned down and nipped at Whitaker’s earlobe. The younger man sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, I’m okay, why?”

“Did you get home? You usually text when you do. It’s been 45 minutes, I was worried.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m home, uh, in bed.” Robby squeezed his waist, kissed his neck. Whitaker dug his nails into Robby’s arm. 

“Listen, Dennis, I wanted to, uh, apologize? For what I said earlier.”

“Okay,” Whitaker replied, distracted. Robby was rolling his hips now, grinding his cock into his cervix. 

“I shouldn’t have said…”

Robby pushed himself up and reached for Whitaker’s phone. He hit the mute button. “An apology. What a gentleman.”

“Robby, please—”

“Shh, baby. Let me take care of you.”

Robby ran his tongue over Whitaker’s left nipple as he continued to roll his hips forward, driving his cock against his g-spot repeatedly. Whitaker groaned, his attempts to listen to what Alex was saying rendered futile by the feeling of Robby’s cock inside of him

“Do you let him fuck you raw?” Robby asked, lips pressed against the shell of Whitaker’s ear. “Do you let him come inside you?” Robby knew the answer. He needed to hear Whitaker say it.

“N-No.” Alex was still talking.

“Do you call him daddy?” Robby punctuated the question with a quick thrust of his hips, the wet slap startlingly loud in the otherwise quiet room .

“No, no,” Whitaker gasped. “Just you—fuck, daddy, more.”

Robby opened his mouth to ask another question, but Alex’s voice caught their attention. 

“Dennis? Dennis, are you still there?”

Robby clicked unmute and held the phone up to Whitaker’s face. He didn’t stop moving his hips.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” Whitaker said. His pupils were blown wide, staring straight up at Robby as he spoke. 

“How can I make this up to you?”

“Uh,” Whitaker stammered. “Uh, I don’t—I don’t know—”

“C’mon, baby. I can take you to your favorite diner? What was it called, uh…”

“R-Ruby’s. Ruby’s Diner,” Whitaker said. Robby was stroking his cock in time with his thrusts now. Whitaker’s legs started to shake. 

“Right. Let’s go there tomorrow. You can get all the waffles you want, okay, baby?”

“Yep. Okay.” Whitaker was biting his lip, barely suppressing his gasps of pleasure. “Gotta go now.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Dennis. I love—”

Robby snatched the phone and ended the call. He threw the phone across the room.

“Stupid asshole,” he grunted. “Doesn’t even know your diner order.”

Whitaker began to laugh, but it turned into an elongated moan as Robby resumed plowing into him. Somewhere on the floor, Whitaker’s phone rang again. The ringtone was quickly drowned out by the noises coming from the bed.

He grabbed Whitaker’s hand and put it on his stomach, placing his own hand on top of it. His hand completely dwarfed the younger man’s. “You feel me inside you, baby? Do you let him fuck you like this? Did he get to take all your firsts? Was he the first to be inside your mouth, your cunt, your ass?” Robby’s thrusts got faster and faster with each question. 

“No, daddy, you, just you—”

Robby felt like a mad man. Every possessive urge that he had felt in the past two months bubbled to the surface as he continued to pound into Whitaker. “Does he eat you out for hours like I do? Does he make you cum like I do? Does he take care of you like I do?” 

“Oh my God,” Whitaker moaned. “No, daddy, no—oh God I’m gonna come, I’mgonnacome—”

“Come for me, baby, that’s it, come for daddy. All for me.”

He fucked Whitaker through his orgasm, his own following shortly after. For several minutes, Robby’s brain was total mush, repeating the same words over and over: mine, mine, mine, all mine. 

“Daddy,” Whitaker groaned. “You’re crushing me.”

Robby tumbled onto the empty side of the bed. He was still out of breath. “Sorry.”

Whitaker turned and burrowed his head into Robby’s side. They were quiet for a moment, their breathing syncing up.

“You gonna go see him tomorrow?” Robby prayed that the jealousy he felt was not clear in his tone. 

“Might as well. I’ll get free breakfast out of it, at the very least.”

Robby smiled. “Atta boy. You want to stay here? It’s late.”

Whitaker was already pulling the covers over himself. Robby clicked his tongue. “You need to clean up first, baby.”

“I’ll get a Plan B in the morning, daddy,” Whitaker yawned. Robby’s stomach flipped at the casual use of the pet name. It felt so much more intimate said here, outside of sex. “G’night.”

They fell asleep as they usually did, wrapped in each other’s arms. When Robby woke up, Whitaker was already gone. 

*****

It was almost noon when the doorbell rang. Robby tripped over himself running to the door, nearly crashing into it face first. Whitaker stood in the doorway, hair still mussed with sleep, nose red from the cold. 

“Hey,” Robby said. 

“Hi,” Whitaker said. “Can I come in?”

Robby stepped aside and let Whitaker into his apartment. He followed the younger man to the couch, where he took off his shoes and jacket. Robby grabbed the jacket and placed it on the coat rack before joining him. 

“Alex and I broke up.”

Robby blinked. That was not at all what he was expecting. “What?”

Whitaker smiled sadly. “You were right. He doesn’t treat me well. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize.” 

Robby bit his lip. He wanted to say a million things—I’m sorry, congratulations, finally. Instead, he stayed quiet, taking Whitaker’s hand in his.

“It’s funny,” Whitaker continued. “The whole time we were dating, I kept finding myself wishing Alex was more like you.”

What? “What?”

“Obviously the sex part—like, I don’t know how you do it, it just feels so much better with you,” Whitaker shrugged. “But you also listen to me when I talk and remember things about me. Things that I like, things that I don’t like. You let me intrude in your space, eat your food, sleep in your bed. It just never felt the same with Alex. It felt like…like I was talking to a brick wall. That I was just there for his amusement, something to play with until he got bored.”

Robby’s mouth went dry. Whitaker took his silence as a sign to continue.

“And honestly, it’s kinda on me? Like, I wasn’t all that into him. I figured once we had sex there would be some sort of attachment or spark or something that would draw me to him, but…it never happened.” He laughed, but Robby could see he wasn't happy. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for a relationship.”

Robby swallowed. His mouth was so dry. “Why didn’t you break up with him sooner?”

“It took me so long to get into a relationship, I was scared of losing it. Scared that I’m…unloveable.” Whitaker looked away, wiping his nose. “I thought hey, even if he doesn’t treat me well, at least he likes me. Right?” He took a breath. “There’s another reason I kept dating him. It’s really fucking stupid, actually.”

Robby frowned. “What?”

“I kept dating him so I had an excuse to see you.”

Silence hung heavy in the air between them. Robby couldn’t breathe. It felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Whitaker continued. Robby could barely hear him over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. “You’ve done me such a big favor, and I fucked it up by developing feelings for you. I…I feel like I used you. And I’m sorry. That was fucked up of me to do. I understand if you—” 

“Dennis.”

Whitaker startled, more apologies threatening to spill from his lips. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember the questions I asked you yesterday?”

Whitaker blushed, looking at his hands. “Uh, yeah.”

“Why me? Why were you so vulnerable with me and not with him?”

Whitaker titled his head, as if Robby just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Because I trust you, Robby. You make me feel safe.”

Robby wanted to throw up. “Dennis.”

Whitaker looked like he was about to throw up.  “Robby?”

“Dennis. I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly.”

Whitaker swallowed nervously and nodded.

“If I were to ask you to be my boyfriend right now, what would you say?”

Whitaker’s eyes went wide, wider than the moon. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “Robby—”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes. I’d say yes. But—"

“Dennis Whitaker, will you be my boyfriend?”

Whitaker blinked. Robby could see tears in the corners of his eyes. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Oh my God, Robby.” Whitaker’s tears were falling down his face now. “You’re serious.”

Robby pulled Whitaker into his lap. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Whitaker shook his head, rubbing his snotty nose against Robby’s shoulder. He hated that he found it cute. “I thought once I stopped needing sex lessons, you wouldn’t have any interest in keeping me around.”

Robby laughed. “Baby, if that were the case, I would have kicked you out every time I came just like Alex did. But I kept you around. I fed you dinner, I watched shitty old romcoms with you because you like them and I like to see you smile. I like spending time with you. I want to be around you. I want you all the time.” He cradled Whitaker’s face in his hands, wiping away stray tears with his thumbs. “Dennis, I…I’m twice your age. I’ve been in several relationships. I’m not the best person, nor am I the best partner. I can be emotionally constipated, and I definitely need to go to therapy. We’ll disagree. We’ll fight. We’ll have problems, a lot of them. But I feel things for you that I haven’t felt for anyone else in a very, very long time.” He took a deep breath. “And if you’re willing, I’d like to give it a try.”

Whitaker smiled through his tears. “Yes. Yes, please. I’d like that.”

Robby kissed him, and for once, he didn’t try to squash or ignore the warm feeling in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach. 

“What do we do now?” Whitaker laughed, breath ghosting against his lips. “We’re kinda doing this backwards. Sex, then kissing, then dates, and now boyfriends.”

“Well,” Robby said, dipping down to press his lips to Whitaker’s pulse, “We keep doing all of those things. Except now I can call you mine, and mark you up to let everyone else know too.” He scraped his teeth against the soft skin of his neck and bit down. Whitaker groaned in pleasure, wriggling in his lap. 

“Okay,” Whitaker huffed as Robby continued biting and sucking his neck. “Then take me to your bed and fuck me like I’m your boyfriend, daddy.”

Robby growled, scooping Whitaker up and carrying him bridal style down the hallway. “Say less, my love.”