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“When are we going down?” Robby asked.
“Soon,” Norris said, giving a ‘what can you do’ shrug. “Very soon.”
“Okay - Hey, somebody get a picture of the board! Quickly, quickly!”
At the attending’s command, Whitaker fumbled with his phone, scrambling over to the patient tracker board. The room around him filled with panicked chatter.
“We’re about to go analog,” Robby warned, shoulders tense with irritation.
Standing on his tip-toes, Whitaker snapped a photo of the screen. A second later, it flashed with the words “Network Offline.”
Robby rushed over, weaving through the gathered crowd, zeroing in directly on Whitaker. “Please tell me you got it.”
The boy flashed him a closed mouth smile, holding up his phone. “Just in time.”
Robby let out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. “Thank God. This is a nightmare.” He gestured to the phone. “Can I see it?”
Whitaker handed it over with no hesitation, and Robby looked down at the image. The other man peered over his arm, squinting at the screen.
“It's a little blurry, but I think if you zoom in you should still be able to make everything out. Sorry about that, I was trying to be quick,” Whitaker said, biting his lip.
“Hey, don't be sorry - you saved the day with this, kid.”
Robby zoomed in, and sure enough, everything was legible enough. With a relieved sigh, he zoomed back out.
“Wait-” Whitaker yelped, but it was far too late - Robby had zoomed out too far and accidentally exited out of the image.
Robby's eyes widened. Whitaker's heart flatlined, and he snatched the phone from Robby’s hand, but the damage had been done.
The screen showed a grid of the most recent images in Whitaker’s camera roll, and right front and center was a series of photos that he’d taken in the mirror last night.
In these pictures, his back was turned, face glancing over his shoulder with a shy smile, and his ass was cradled in lacy black panties.
Robby looked shell-shocked, eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. Whitaker burned with shame and humiliation, shoving his phone into his pocket.
“I- I am so sorry, sir. That was completely inappropriate, and I-”
“It's- you're-” Robby stuttered, clearing his throat, cutting Whitaker off. “You're fine, Whitaker. I’m sorry.”
“It's not your fault,” Whitaker said, voice shaking.
They stood there, faces red, avoiding eye contact. Samira walked up, raising an eyebrow.
“Everything good here? Did he get it?”
Robby straightened. “Yes, everything's fine. Um.” He turned to Whitaker. “Dr. Whitaker here was just going to send the picture- the picture of the board, to the group chat, so we can get it written down. Right, Whitaker?”
Whitaker’s face seemed to get even redder. “Right, right - I'll do that.”
He took his phone back out, then hesitated, holding it at an angle so that no one could see his screen.
Santos popped up out of nowhere. “Well, that's not suspicious. Got nudes on there, Huckleberry?”
Whitaker squeaked, and the phone slipped from his hands, dropping face down on the ground. At the sound of a loud crack, everyone in the vicinity winced. Santos’ eyes widened.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I’ll pay to repair it, I swear.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Whitaker crouched and picked up the phone. The glass screen was completely shattered, thin spiderwebs obstructing his view, but it was still functional, thank God. He quickly sent off the photo and turned it off.
“The picture has been sent. I should go put this in my locker so I don't accidentally cut myself reaching in my pocket,” he said, turning and skittering away, avoiding looking at a certain senior attending.
It was all for nothing, it seemed, as he had just entered the locker room when he heard someone call his name.
“Whitaker!”
Robby’s warm hand dropped onto his shoulder, bringing him to a halt, and he turned slowly to face him.
“Yes?” he whispered, eyes trained on the chain sticking out of Robby’s scrub shirt, avoiding looking at his face.
Robby hesitated, and Whitaker watched his throat as he swallowed.
“I just wanted to apologize, again. That was an invasion of your privacy, and I-”
“It's not like you were trying to go snooping through my personal pictures,” Whitaker shrugged, trying to act nonchalant while screaming on the inside. “It was an honest mistake.”
“Right. Yes,” Robby said.
“I'm just sorry you had to see that,” Whitaker joked, finally looking up at him.
The man was staring at his mouth. There was no denying it - his eyes were half-lidded, face flushed, and his gaze was trained on Whitaker’s pink lips.
“It’s fine,” Robby whispered.
Whitaker’s tongue came out to wet his lips, and Robby’s pupils dilated at the sight. Interesting.
“Dr. Robby!” Princess yelled from the hall, and they both jumped. “Phones are down, but we’ve still got cellular! Just got a call about another redirect from Westbridge, arriving in about 5 minutes! Hand trauma from a firework explosion!”
“Be right there!” Robby called back, before turning to Whitaker again. His face was still pink. “You wanna help me on this one, or…”
“Yeah, sure,” Whitaker replied, quickly typing in his locker code and sliding his wrecked phone inside.
Robby rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll understand if you want to work with someone else-”
“Robby,” Whitaker cut him off, slamming the locker shut and shooting him a shy smile. “I'm fine. I would love to help you put someone's obliterated hand back together.”
Robby scoffed and shook his head, grinning. “Right. Well, come on then - adventure awaits.”
For the rest of the shift, Whitaker was excruciatingly aware of how Robby was reacting to his presence. Whenever he leaned a little too close, the man’s face got red. Whenever Whitaker looked up at him with his big, sad eyes, the cool, calm, collected doctor stumbled over his words, seemingly forgetting what he was talking about mid-sentence. Whitaker felt his burning gaze watching him as he worked, eyes following him down the hall or staring from across the hub. The attention made him giddy, and if he put a little extra swing to his hips as he walked, well…
After the realizations of the day, all of the humiliation from the picture incident had left his body, replaced with determination.
Robby was attracted to him, that much was obvious. He just had to try to find a way to get the older man to act on it - to push him over the edge.
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Days had passed, but Robby still couldn't stop thinking about those damn pictures.
He'd only gotten a glance, but it seemed as if they were seared into his retinas, a permanent afterimage dancing across his vision, teasing him.
Whitaker’s skin had been smooth, pale, with little moles decorating his back. His hair was tousled, blonde curls framing his face like a halo where he peeked over his shoulder, pink lips pulled into a cute smile. For being so petite and mousy, the man had surprisingly muscled arms - probably leftover from his Nebraska farm boy days - and Robby wanted to trail his tongue down those biceps.
And his ass. God, his ass.
The little lace panties had framed him perfectly, the design delicate and flattering. Robby itched to grab a handful, to pull the fabric aside and slide his fingers between those plush cheeks.
“Dr. Robby?”
At Whitaker’s voice, Robby flinched, heart beating faster. He felt like he'd just been caught, like Whitaker had read his mind and heard the perverted thoughts racing through it.
He cleared his throat, turning to face the boy. “What's up?”
“Can you look this over for me?” Whitaker asked. “I’m pretty confident in my differentials, but I just wanted to get a second pair of eyes on here, make sure I’m not missing anything.”
“Of course,” Robby said, sliding back into serious senior attending mode, grabbing the papers from Whitaker’s hands. “It can never hurt to get a second opinion, no matter how long you’ve been doing this.”
“Thank you, sir,” Whitaker said, and Robby’s cock twitched in his pants. Not the fucking time.
He flipped through the pages, scanning them. “Looks good to me, covered all the bases,” he said, handing them back. “Good job, Dr. Whitaker.”
Whitaker smiled, meeting his eyes and reaching for the papers, only for them to slide out of his grip. “Oh, shoot!”
He darted forward, crouching to pick them up, and Robby choked on his own spit.
Whitaker’s scrub pants had ridden down slightly, exposing the lacy waistband of a familiar pair of black panties.
This was a nightmare. Robby was being haunted.
Whitaker straightened back up, shuffling the pages back to their proper order. “Sorry about that, Dr. Robby.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Robby said, voice strained.
“Are you okay?” Whitaker asked, brows furrowing, pretty blue eyes skirting over Robby’s face. “You look a little flushed.”
Robby cleared his throat. “I’m fine. It's just a little hot in here.”
Whitaker raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Robby’s forest green jacket. He took a step forward and brought his hand up, gently tugging the zipper down an inch while looking Robby in the eye. “If only there was something you could do about that.”
The blood in Robby’s body couldn't decide whether to rush to his face or his cock.
He watched as Whitaker walked away, his hips swaying, taunting him. The boy had to know what he was doing, and Robby couldn’t let him get away with it.
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Whitaker's heart thudded in his chest. He'd never been so outwardly flirty with Dr. Robby before, and it left him exhilarated. He knew the man had noticed the panties - he'd heard the sound Robby made when he caught sight of them, and he bit back a smile.
He had made his move, and now he just had to wait for Robby to make his. The ball was in his court.
An hour or so later, Whitaker was standing near the nurses station, staring up at the newly reinstated patient tracker board, when he felt a warm hand grip his waist, pulling him to the side as a gurney rushed by, nearly clipping him.
“Careful,” Robby breathed, hand tightening. “Gotta pay better attention to your surroundings, Dr. Whitaker.”
“Now why would I do that, when I have my knight in polyester scrubs here to pull me to safety?” Whitaker joked, and he felt Robby’s hand drift lower.
“Didn't take you for a damsel in distress,” Robby mused, sliding a calloused finger under the hem of Whitaker’s shirt.
Whitaker’s breath caught, and his eyes fluttered. “There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Dr. Robinavitch.”
Push.
Robby’s fingers traced the lace peeking over Whitaker’s waistband. “Oh, I know a few things.”
And pull.
Whitaker shivered, and Robby looked around to make sure no one was watching before he pinched the elastic, pulling it back and letting it snap.
Whitaker let out a choked whimper, and Robby leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Are these for me?”
Whitaker nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Robby gave them one last stroke before taking his hand away. Whitaker’s skin felt cold without his touch.
“Back to work, Dr. Whitaker,” Robby ordered, walking away, as if he hadn’t just left Whitaker soaking through his little lace panties.
Whitaker released the breath he had been holding, sinking against the counter. Holy shit. Holy shit.
“You good, Huckleberry?” Santos asked, sidling up to him.
“Peachy,” he croaked, dragging a hand through his hair. He could not believe that just happened. Jesus Christ.
It was one thing for him to flirt with Robby, hoping that maybe something might happen. But for Robby to actually reciprocate? Whitaker felt lightheaded.
Santos raised an eyebrow. “Ohhhkay, then. Wanna help me in South 20? I’ve got a 10 year old kid with a nasty cut on his arm and an even nastier attitude. I need backup.”
“Why not?” Whitaker said, straightening back up. He could definitely use a distraction.
The second they walked through the curtain, Whitaker got a cup of water thrown on him. Of course. His day had been going way too well - he had to be taken down a peg.
“Jeremy!” A woman, who he assumed was the kid’s mother, scolded him. “These nice doctors are just trying to help you!”
“I don't need help, I wanna go back to Ryan’s house!” the kid shouted, violently kicking out his legs, nearly catching Whitaker in the knee.
“Baby, the sooner they fix you up, the sooner we can leave,” his mother soothed.
Whitaker stood there, droplets of water dripping from his bangs into his eyes. He could feel the water soaking through both of his shirts, down to the fabric of his binder, and his pants stuck to his thighs uncomfortably. How much water could one cup hold? And why was it always him?
Santos gave him a pitying look and said, “You know what? I think I’m actually good in here. Go get changed.”
Whitaker pressed his lips together and shot her a sarcastic thumbs up before turning and walking out, using his sleeves to wipe at his face.
On his trip to the ScrubEx machine, he got some muffled snickers from the nurses, a smirk from Dr. Mohan, and a sympathetic glance from Dr. King. He just rolled his eyes. Yeah, yeah, it's always Huckleberry covered in some kind of fluid. He'd gotten so much better at avoiding it, but alas - it was always lurking around the corner, waiting to strike.
Once he'd grabbed a new pair of scrubs, he brought them over to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Standing in front of the mirror, he began to strip off his top and undershirt. He hesitated when he got down to his binder, bringing a finger up to test how wet it was. It was pretty bad, and the last thing he needed was to get a skin infection from wearing tight, damp clothes for the rest of his shift. With a sigh, he pulled it over his head, adding it to the pile growing on the floor. He counted himself lucky for having a pretty small chest naturally. He usually just wore a binder for that little extra bit of security, but cis guys had breast tissue, too, so really, no one should notice anything out of the ordinary.
He had just stepped out of his pants when he heard the door click open. He squeaked, one arm flying up to hide his tits while his other hand shot down to try to cover the lace underwear.
He looked up and saw Robby standing there in the doorway, eyes wide and jaw dropped to the floor. The man quickly closed the door behind him, leaning his back against it to keep it shut.
“I swear, I locked it!” Whitaker insisted, face heating.
“Oh, yeah, this uh-” Robby gulped. “This door is a little fidgety. You have to really press hard to get the lock to engage. It'll look like it's locked, but really…”
Robby trailed off, eyes wandering down. The heat of his gaze had Whitaker’s heart beating fast in his chest. He felt like a prey animal, trapped in a corner by a hungry predator, completely at its mercy.
Whitaker wanted nothing more than to be caught. He wanted to feel the beast’s teeth in his neck and claws down his back.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he dropped his arms, exposing himself to Robby.
“Jesus, Whitaker.”
Without looking away, the man locked the door behind him with a resounding click.
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Robby took in Whitaker’s body, from his perky pink nipples, down the soft plane of his stomach, to the trail of blonde curls disappearing into the black lace of his panties. His mouth watered at the thought of sticking his face down there.
“Turn around,” Robby breathed. “Let me see you.”
Whitaker flushed a deep red, the color traveling down his chest. He did a slow twirl, letting Robby admire him.
“Good boy.”
“Dr. Robby,” Whitaker whispered, looking back at him with those eyes, and Robby snapped.
He stalked over, grabbing Whitaker by the back of the head and pulling him into a kiss. The boy moaned into his mouth, bringing his hands up to pull at Robby’s collar, bringing him closer. Robby responded by tugging on his hair, twisting his fingers around the soft curls.
They broke apart, gasping, breathing each other’s air, and Robby couldn't help it. He was drowning.
“Please,” he begged. His fingers brushed against Whitaker’s lower belly, and he dropped to his knees. “Please.”
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Whitaker's eyes went wide at the sight of his senior attending kneeling before him. The man looked desperate, like he'd been on edge all day. He probably had been, thanks to Whitaker’s teasing. It made him feel powerful, to know he had reduced his boss to… this.
However, Whitaker hesitated a moment, a small seed of doubt poking at the back of his mind. He had to ask.
“Is… is it okay, that I’m…”
“I don't care,” Robby said, shaking his head, sounding wrecked. “Please, just let me taste you.”
Oh. Oh, he likes it.
Whitaker had always imagined he would feel too insecure, too dysphoric in this kind of situation, too reluctant to let anyone get too close. But the way Robby was looking at him, with so much raw desire and enthusiasm, had him feeling like maybe he was worth worshipping.
Robby’s brown eyes stared up at him like a dog begging for a treat. It was uncanny, really. He almost expected the man to start drooling.
“Yeah?” Whitaker murmured, feeling a burst of confidence. He put a hand on Robby’s head, stroking his hair before gripping it. “You wanna taste me, puppy?”
Robby groaned, closing his eyes. “Please.”
Whitaker tugged Robby’s head forward, and the man was quick to bury his nose into the fabric of the panties. The heat of his breath had Whitaker’s cunt throbbing, and he let out a soft noise.
“You wanna make me feel good?” he asked, moving his hips in a small circle.
Robby nodded, his nose brushing against Whitaker’s cock, and the boy moaned.
“Go ahead, Dr. Robby. Take what you need.”
Robby rushed forward, tongue dragging across the fabric, tasting the slick soaking through the lace. One hand came up to wrap around Whitaker’s thigh, and the other gripped his ass, using it to bring him even closer. Whitaker brought his free hand up to cover his mouth, muffling a cry. God, he couldn't believe this was happening. Dr. Michael Robinavitch, his senior attending, was mouthing at his pussy like this was a desert and it was the only source of water for miles.
Robby’s fingers slipped under the lace in the back, tugging, and soon Whitaker was stepping out of the underwear. Robby tossed them onto Whitaker’s pile of clothes and dove back in, digging his tongue between his lips, smearing his face with slick. Whitaker ground down, gasping. No matter how many times he’d fantasized about this, nothing compared to the reality of being absolutely devoured by this man. And boy, was Robby devouring.
The man was eager, gripping Whitaker’s ass and practically forcing him to ride his face. The feeling of his nose against his cock, his tongue lapping at his entrance, had Whitaker holding back sobs.
Robby slid a hand around to tease at his opening, tracing it gently with a calloused fingertip, looking up and asking for permission. Without hesitation, Whitaker nodded, and he felt the thick finger slide easily up into him, aided by the gallons of slick he was producing. He’d never felt this wet in his life.
Robby crooked his finger, feeling for that special spot, and Whitaker jerked his hips. “Oh, Robby.”
Robby grinned and added another finger. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes, sir,” Whitaker gasped. He’d never been able to find that spot on his own.
“Oh, I’m back to 'sir', now?” Robby teased, voice deep. “What happened to ‘puppy’?”
Whitaker whimpered. He was falling apart now. He’d had his moment of control, had his fun, but now he was succumbing to the fog in his mind, and he just wanted Robby to do whatever he wanted with him.
Robby sucked on his little cock, flicking his tongue across it, and his fingers sped up, hitting that sensitive spot with every pull. Whitaker’s legs were starting to shake, nearly giving out.
Robby pulled back, prompting a whine of displeasure which was quickly cut off when he manhandled Whitaker over to the wall. He pressed him up against it, and the boy cried out at the cold tile against his bare back. Robby grabbed his thigh, hiking the leg up over his shoulder, allowing Whitaker to put most of his weight on either Robby or the wall behind him.
He slid his fingers back in, adding a third, and Whitaker’s head thunked softly against the tile with a gasp. “Fuck, you're too good at this. It's unfair. Completely unfair.”
“I am a doctor,” Robby said. “It's my job to know the human body, inside…”
He pressed against Whitaker’s g-spot, massaging it, making him see stars.
“...and out.”
With that, he brought his mouth back to Whitaker’s cock and quickened his pace. The wet noises echoing through the bathroom had Whitaker’s face flushing with embarrassment. God, it was so obscene.
Robby watched as Whitaker’s eyes fluttered, his soft chest rising and falling with each shuddered breath, cross necklace resting against his sternum. Robby brought his free hand up to swipe across the boy’s nipples, earning a cry. He pulled his mouth away.
“You have to be quiet, Dr. Whitaker,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the blonde curls in front of him. “Don't want our peers to hear what we're doing in here, huh?”
Whitaker covered his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling the recognizable tension building in his stomach.
“Robby, fuck, I’m-”
As if it were even possible, Robby’s fingers seemed to speed up, slamming against his most sensitive spot with such fervor that Whitaker knew if he wasn't being supported, he'd have collapsed to the floor by now.
Robby flicked his tongue across his cock in a relentless rhythm, staring up at him with such adoration and lust that Whitaker felt tears burn in his eyes. He’d never felt loved like this. Cherished.
“Robby,” he gasped, and a few tears fell, sliding down his cheeks. “Ah, ah, ah-”
With a silent scream, Whitaker’s entire body tensed, toes curling and core convulsing. He squeezed around Robby’s fingers like a vice grip, keeping them inside, and Robby just crooked them, continuing to massage him, milking the orgasm from inside.
Whitaker’s eyes were rolled into the back of his head, head full of static, body jerking with each new wave of pleasure. Just when he thought it was almost over, he felt Robby start sucking on his cock again, fingers resuming their assault.
“Wait, Robby, what are you-”
The overwhelming feeling built up again, more and more, until it started to overflow. He came a second time, the most embarrassing noises falling from his lips, tears streaming down his face, vision whiting out. When he finally returned to the land of the living, he leaned his head back against the wall, gasping for air, brows knitted together.
“Jesus Christ, Robby. Are you trying to kill me?” he sniffled, looking down and glaring at the man.
Robby chuckled, pulling his fingers out and immediately sticking them in his mouth, licking them clean. Whitaker groaned at the sight. “You are. You are trying to kill me. I need to report you to the board. This is a violation of our oath.”
Robby helped Whitaker bring his leg back down, and caught him when he started to fall.
“Are you okay?” Robby asked, holding his waist.
“Never better.”
With that, Whitaker pulled Robby in for a kiss, tasting himself on his tongue. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Robby countered, pulling back. “Are you good to stand?”
Whitaker took a tentative step, wobbled a little bit, but stayed upright. “I think I’m good.”
Robby gave him a suspicious look, but left him to go over to the sink, washing the slick out of his beard. When he was finished, he came back over to Whitaker and dropped a soft kiss to the tear tracks streaking his skin.
“As much as I want to stay in here and clean you up, I really shouldn't be away from the floor for this long,” Robby confessed, looking conflicted.
“Go,” Whitaker said, shooing him away. “Go save some lives. I'll be right behind you.”
Robby dropped a final kiss onto Whitaker’s forehead and took a step towards the door before hesitating. Pivoting, he walked over to Whitaker’s clothes pile and grabbed the panties. Making eye contact, he slid them into his pocket.
Whitaker squeezed his thighs together. “You're a damn pervert, Dr. Robinavitch.”
“Wait for me in the park across the street after our shift ends. I think we have some things we need to… discuss.”
Whitaker smiled. “Yes sir.”