Meet up alone in Bubby’s Black Mesa Dormitory room.
“I want to show you something.”
That was the plan, and Dr. Coomer was certain there had to be a good reason for it. Bubby seemed secretive, perhaps a bit contemplative, when he first requested them to meet alone.
It started normal enough, but now the two elders were half undressed, together on Bubby’s bed. All it took was one impulsive question from Coomer, and the night changed for good.
“It’s only fair for me to ask you first-” Coomer smiled, but not sheepishly, “Can I kiss you, Bubby?”
Bubby was too far on in years to even care about dignity. In a flash, he was kissing Coomer first, snaking his fingers up under his tank top. Coomer made a small, pleased noise as his lover groped him up and down.
That’s all Bubby needed to snap, he grabbed the back of Coomer’s head and pulled him closer, deeper, like he wanted to devour him. From there, the kissing was almost entirely being carried by their tongues. Grotesque, yes, but nobody was around to judge them. Even if there were, they probably would not have cared about them-Too horny.
“Dr. Coomer,” Bubby pulls away and sighs into his lover’s ear as his hand snakes downwards, “Pay attention.”
Coomer’s breath comes out shaky, nodding. One hand caresses and relishes in Coomer’s chest hair, and the other pulls away from his midsection to find the waistband of Bubby’s own shorts. Shuffles a little; then Bubby can remove them entirely.
He’s exposed, entirely barren down below.
“It’s all-I’m not equipped, Coomer.” Bubby runs his fingers over the area, “It’s not impossible for me to cum, but I can’t do it on my own.”
His expression was not that of pity, or disgust, or any of the various negative reactions Bubby would expect from anyone else. But, he knows Coomer. He knows this wasn’t going to end badly, and he’d long been over the preconception that his body could ever repulse the other doctor. Bubby knew what he was thinking, and he knew what he was wanting.
Coomer reaches tentatively forward, making eye contact with Bubby as he pauses just before touching him. Silently waiting for permission.
“I need your help.” At last, the words are spoken.
But one word remains missing, so Coomer does nothing and says nothing.
There it is. They interlock again, kissing deeply.
Until Bubby hisses and pulls back. His hand shot to his aching lower back as he winced.
“Back? If it’s a bad pain night, just lay down and tell me what to do.” Coomer offered.
He helped settle Bubby onto the bed in a position that wouldn’t aggravate his failing joints too much. Ever-confident, Coomer took one hand downwards with the other rubbing reassuring circles onto Bubby’s shoulder. Coomer’s experimental presses and rubs elicited pleased sighs from Bubby. Nothing stimulating yet, but he was just enjoying his lover’s touch and breath on his neck. It seemed more akin to him receiving a massage than being jerked off.
His fingers continued to wander, pressing gently and almost pulling away in surprise when Bubby gasped gently.
“Oh!” Coomer smiled.
He pressed down firmly and rubbed in a small circle on the smooth area. With stronger hands, it was easier than when Bubby tried by himself. Bubby moaned, and he moaned loud, hips bucking. It had certainly been a while. He sputtered, trying to recover the composure lost, but it was far past too late.
“I think I found the spot, professor!” Mischievous, Coomer’s fingers sped up.
Before the word ‘doctor’ could even pass his lips, Bubby felt every remaining drop of coherency melt. Direct stimulation after this long was going to destroy him. The noises Bubby made were sheerly blasphemous, fingers scrabbling to take hold of Coomer’s shoulders, brows furrowed and toes curling.
A chant escapes Bubby, “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh my god…!”
It’s endearing, to Coomer at least, to watch his beloved squirm and get oh-so-much closer than he ever could before. Whatever Bubby had been doing on his own, it clearly wasn’t enough.
So with his free hand, Coomer slips his fingers between Bubby’s. Bubby grabs back and squeezes , still trembling. Apart, their hands seem to be odd bedfellows. Having long, bony and thin hands, Bubby was dwarfed by the bigger, rougher, and much stronger hands of Coomer. But coming together, nothing could ever fit more perfectly.
The sensation of rubbing Bubby’s… lacking area was eating the rest of the doctor’s attention. Whatever he was pressing down on was firmer, and if he had a medical degree, he wouldn’t be terribly misguided to believe it to be a cyst. The flesh around was rubbery, wrinkled; a little too tight here, a little too elastic there.
Coomer ponders for a moment if this was an intentional choice. Not Bubby’s anatomy, or the team that created him, but if everything they had was an accident. A glitch. Then he sees Bubby’s face again. He’s smiling, quivering like a leaf but wheezing a laugh here and there in sheer pleasure.
It stopped mattering right then and there if this was ever meant to be. When an accident is this beautiful, intentions are good as naught.
“Close,” Bubby chokes out, “So close, oh my god-oh my god, I’m right there-”
He was a man undone; cocky but so sincere in his reactions that Coomer felt his own pulse in two places at once. Coomer didn’t care. Bubby was the only thing that existed to him then. Bubby needed this. The mere act of asking for help was enough to show how badly pent up the old scientist was.
“You’re acing it, Bubby.” He reassured him.
Bubby’s moans picked up in pitch and frequency, and he squeezed Coomer’s hand tighter and tighter. Coomer wasn’t sure what he expected Bubby to say when he finally came, but it was a welcome surprise;
“I love you!”
It was strange for Coomer to watch. It was going on far longer than it would for a natural human being, but if it felt good, he wouldn’t worry too much. Every drop of tension in his body released at once, and Bubby fell slack against the bed frame.
“Are you still alright-” Is what Coomer began to ask, when the Black Mesa Dormitory landline began ringing.
“I’m fine, I’m always fine.” Bubby sighed, “Can you go get that?”
They shuffle on the bed for a moment so Coomer can reach the phone. The number indicates it’s from the next dorm over. He picks up the phone with a, “Yes?”
“Dude.” It’s Gordon Freeman himself!
“Do you fuckin’ know how thin the walls are?!” Gordon sounds incredibly tired, “Jesus! Why are you so goddamn loud?”
Coomer stares into space holding the phone for a moment, "Gordon, there were plenty of opportunities to call and ask us to be quiet!”
Bubby scoffs loud enough for Gordon to hear, “Yeah. Why didn’t you call earlier?”
Silence. Then, Gordon hangs up. And the doctors burst out laughing together.
As their laughter died down, the noise was sealed away with a kiss.