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It's one thing to have a midlife crisis and come out the other side with a new sexuality.
It’s another thing to have had this crisis because of your attractive new coworker. Who is also your student intern. Who is also roughly half your age.
Robby was no stranger to having workplace crushes. Of course, up until this point in his life, they had all been women and roughly his age, give or take a few years. And he was no stranger to the occasional hookup with said crushes. However, he always made sure to keep things as professional as possible—no romance on the clock, keeping work and private life separate. It had been years since he had a fling like that, now relegating himself to using shady hookup apps only in the most desperate of situations.
And he sure was feeling desperate lately.
Dennis Whitaker had been at the Pitt for about three months now, and it had been the most grueling three months of Robby’s life. On Whitaker's first day, Robby tried to explain away his attraction toward the young man as a result of his chronic lack of sleep, but when it didn’t fade over time, he had to start doing some intense self reflection (and a lot of late night internet searches). Over the course of several weeks, Robby watched more porn than he ever did in his teenage years and absolutely destroyed his search history looking up different terms. At the end, he came to a conclusion: he was, at the age of 54, a late blooming bisexual.
Even before he accepted his new part of his identity, Robby was plagued by dreams involving his young coworker, often waking up with a sticky mess in his underwear. He knew it was starting to impact how he acted around Whitaker at work too—avoiding eye contact, becoming flushed when they stood close to each other. He felt like a teenage girl with the way his heart fluttered when Whitaker smiled at him.
It certainly didn’t help that Whitaker was, for some reason, constantly being sprayed with different fluids and forced to change. Something about the sight of Whitaker drowning in ill-fitting scrubs really did something for him. During one of these incidents, Whitaker walked hurriedly past Robby, his face and shirt covered in blood. Robby had to excuse himself to the bathroom for about six minutes and wait for his erection to subside. He really, really did not want to unpack what that was about. All he knew was that he needed to get a grip, and soon.
But God, if there even was one, was not kind to Robby. One day he stepped into the break room to grab a cup of water when he stumbled upon Whitaker deep in conversation with Santos. They both went silent as he came into the room.
“Ignore me, just grabbing some w—hey, are you okay?”
Robby cut himself off once he saw the tears in Whitaker's eyes, and the fact that Santos was rubbing his hand soothingly. Whitaker gave him a pitiful smile and nodded. “Y-Yeah, doing great.”
Robby frowned, abandoning his water quest to sit at the table. “Whitaker. We've had this conversation before. You can’t do your job right if there is something else taking up space in here.” He leaned forward and tapped a finger against Whitaker's forehead. “I can’t have people dying in my ER because you’re stressed about something.”
Whitaker took a deep breath and nodded. He looked at Santos, who squeezed his hand.
“W-Well,” he started, “it’s nothing overly serious. I just realized that I won't have enough money to pay for my T this month. Or next month. Or…any month in the near future.”
More tears streamed down the young man’s face at his confession. Santos murmured something to him, but Robby felt like his head was full of cotton.
“Your…your what?”
Whitaker frowned. “My T? Testosterone?”
Robby blinked. He looked from Whitaker to Santos and back, stunned.
“Dr. Robby…I'm…transgender. I thought you knew?”
Robby finally found words. “I didn't. No, I didn't know that, I apologize.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Whitaker shrugged. “I, uh, kinda figured everyone knew.”
“See, I told you you pass well,” Santos whispered, punching his arm lightly. That made a small smile bloom on Whitaker's face.
“Well,” Robby started, desperately searching for what to say, "I'm sorry to hear that. You could try talking to Kiara…I'm not sure how much she’d be able to help with getting the prescription, but she might be able to help with getting a therapist or someone to talk to as you navigate the next few months.”
Whitaker nodded, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Yeah, I'll talk to her later. Thanks, Dr. Robby.”
Robby couldn’t help but clap a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Anytime. That's what I'm here for.”
It was a conversation that shouldn’t have affected Robby the way that it did. So what, Whitaker was trans. That didn’t change a single thing about his perception of the young man—he was talented and smart and had great potential.
No, what changed was Robby's fantasies.
Because he was a late bloomer in regards to his sexuality, he had no sexual experience with men. He had watched gay porn, of course, and knew what he liked on himself, but not having any hands-on practice made him nervous. Not that he was planning on doing anything with Whitaker. Of course not. He was his boss, his mentor.
But now, with this new knowledge, Robby couldn’t stop thinking about Whitaker. What should have been an innocent fact about one of his employees was now prime fuel for his sexual fantasies. Because if Robby knew anything, it was his way around a pussy. He didn't want to toot his own horn, of course, but more than one of his previous hookups had remarked on his talent for cunnilingus.
And now, every waking moment that he wasn’t actively stressing over keeping patients alive was spent obsessing over Whitaker. What did it look like? Did he have bottom growth? Did he shave? Was he a virgin? How tight would he be, how wet? How would he feel around Robby’s fingers, his tongue, his cock?
Robby felt like he needed to be checked into a mental hospital. His obsession was even infiltrating his dreams. His unconscious mind easily made the switch from imagining pounding Whitaker's ass to pounding his cunt.
It was getting to the point where Robby didn’t want to go to work. He felt on edge around Whitaker, as if the young man could read Robby’s mind and see all the sick fantasies the older man had about him. Multiple staff members asked Robby if he was okay, saying he looked ashen or stressed. He brushed them all off; he knew he was a hypocrite, allowing something to torment him like this. It wouldn't be long before it started impacting his patient care.
Regardless how much he tried, though, his obsession did not subside. He considered redownloading a dating app to find a quick fuck, anything to take his mind off his subordinate, but he knew somehow that no matter who it was, he’d only be able to picture Whitaker. As such, he resigned himself to his right hand and his thoughts, bringing himself to completion night after night to the image of Whitaker writhing in pleasure beneath him.
Several weeks passed. Robby fell into a new routine: wake up, jerk off, have coffee, head to work, leave work, eat dinner, watch TV, shower, jerk off again, pass out. Everything was going as well as it could be, given the situation.
It all had to come crashing down eventually.
Robby stood at the window, staring at the rainstorm outside. When he left that morning, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky; now, it was pouring, and the streets were already starting to flood. He sighed as he hiked his bag over his shoulder. He'd get soaked walking to his car, but at least he’d have that to shelter him on his way home.
He turned to leave and all but crashed into Whitaker. He instinctively put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, keeping him upright. “Woah there. Didn’t realize you were standing there, kid.”
Whitaker gave him a small smile. “Sorry. I, uh, had a question?”
“Well, shoot.”
Whitaker nodded and took a deep breath. “I…well, Santos left already. She has a date tonight so she said she had to go early…and now I don't have a way home. I mean, I could take the bus, but…”
The thought of Whitaker walking through the rain, shivering and soaked to the bone, made Robby’s chest tight. “Of course, kid. C'mon. I was just about to head out.”
Robby resolutely ignored the way his heart raced as he led Whitaker to his car. They dashed out to it, all but throwing themselves inside to get away from the downpour. Whitaker had a slight flush on his cheeks, and his shirt had ridden up ever so slightly from the tumble he took into the passenger seat. Robby had to internally yell at himself not to stare at the small sliver of skin and—God—the waistband of his underwear that had become exposed. Thankfully, Whitaker sorted himself out quickly, and the two were on their way.
Getting to Whitaker's apartment proved impossible. Several streets were blocked off due to flooding, with drenched police officers directing traffic away from the impacted zones. Robby bit his lip. “I don't know if I can get close enough to your apartment. And I certainly don’t feel comfortable letting you walk. You’ll get sick, and I can't have you missing work. I need you in my ER.”
He glanced at Whitaker as he spoke, who now sported a prominent blush across his cheek bones. Cute. Robby mentally smacked himself and kept talking.
“Spend the night at my place. I'll change the bed sheets for you and take the couch. I promise I'm not a slob.”
Whitaker's eyes widened. “Oh no, Dr. Robby, I couldn't—that’s—”
“Just Robby, kid, we’re off the clock. And it’s no problem. I wouldn't have offered it if I wasn't willing to host.”
That settled it. They finished the ride to Robby’s place in silence, with just the constant patter of the rain on the roof of his car to distract them.
Once inside, Robby made sure Whitaker was comfortable on the couch before heading to his room to clean up. Luckily there wasn’t much of a mess, but he did take the time to hide his lotion and tissue box under the bed and change the sheets. He also picked out a set of clean clothes for the kid so he could change into something after he showered. In the back of his mind, Robby knew that the image of Whitaker in his clothes would absolutely destroy him, but he really had no other option except to make the poor guy sleep in his wet scrubs.
When he returned to the living room, Whitaker was typing away at his phone, the blush on his cheeks somehow redder than before.
“Are you doing alright there?” Robby called. He busied himself in his small kitchen, checking his fridge to see what he could whip up for two.
“A-Ah, yeah,” Whitaker replied. He swallowed. “Was just letting Santos know where I am.”
“Good. Hopefully she doesn’t think I kidnapped you,” Robby joked. He pulled a frozen pizza out of the freezer and held it up. “Does this look okay? It’s not a five star meal, I know. I haven't been able to go shopping lately.”
Whitaker shook his head. “No, that’s great, really. I—thank you, sir.”
And that went straight to Robby’s dick. He cleared his throat and started the oven. “I, uh, grabbed a clean set of clothes for you,” he said, nodding to the pile he left on the kitchen counter. “Feel free to take a shower. This should be done in about 25 minutes.”
Whitaker nodded mutely and gathered the clothes before heading down the hallway to the bathroom. Hearing the door shut and the lock slide over, Robby took a deep breath. He was seriously playing with fire here. He had the object of his desires and obsessions, here, alone, in his home. He would be showering and wearing his clothes and sleeping in his bed. Robby could already feel himself aching in his underwear.
He distracted himself with preparing the table and tidying up the living room which would be his bedroom for the night. By the time Whitaker emerged from the bathroom, the pizza was ready.
And boy, did Robby underestimate the effect a post-shower Whitaker would have on him. His hair was still damp and sticking to his forehead, and he looked refreshed and calm. Robby’s shirt was far too large on him, awkwardly hanging off one shoulder, and Robby bit his lip as he watched the younger man fix it. His pants similarly were a bit too large, and Whitaker had rolled them up and the bottom to avoid tripping on them. All of it put together made Robby almost pass out from the blood rushing to his dick.
“Feel better?” Robby managed to get out. Whitaker smiled and nodded.
“That smells great,” he said.
“Well, it’s all ready, so come on.”
He could sit through a short meal with a raging erection, right? It would be fine. He could hold it together. Everything was just—
Whitaker walked past him into the kitchen, and he caught a whiff of his body wash on the young man, and something snapped inside Robby. Yeah, there was no way in hell he could handle sitting next to the kid while they ate unless he took care of his issue.
“I'll, ah, I'll be right back. Just gotta…bathroom.” Robby gestured awkwardly, praying his erection was not too obvious through his jeans. “Don't wait for me.” Whitaker blinked and nodded.
Robby hurried to the bathroom, shoved a towel in his mouth, and unzipped his pants as fast as humanly possible. His cock had already started leaking in his underwear, and a muffled moan echoed through the bathroom when he finally made contact with it. He didn’t even need lube, just using the precum building at the tip to ease the slide. He bit down hard on the towel to dampen his desperate moans as he fucked into his hand, imagining it was Whitaker’s cunt, or his mouth. Fuck, he had such cute lips. Robby wanted to kiss and bite and suck every last inch of his body.
He was almost embarrassed by how fast he came, but more so grateful, as he didn’t want to have to explain a prolonged absence (or why he was so flushed and jittery.) He cleaned himself, flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and splashed some cold water on his face before heading back out to face Whitaker.
They ate in silence. Robby kept trying to start conversations (“Weather's been nice lately, huh? Have you talked to your folks at all recently?”) but nothing caught on. Whitaker seemed to be stuck in his head.
As they cleaned up the kitchen (Robby insisted he didn’t need help, but Whitaker assisted anyway), Robby outlined the rest of their evening.
“You're gonna take the bedroom, and before you say anything, I've slept on that couch more times than I can count. So no, it’s not a problem. It's not too late though, if you want to watch some TV before hitting the hay?”
Robby was met with silence. He turned to see Whitaker still standing in the kitchen, completely still and staring off into space. He frowned. “Whitaker? You hear me?”
“Dennis,” Whitaker mumbled. “If you get to be Robby outside of work, I get to be Dennis.”
Robby nodded. “Alright. Dennis. You doing okay?”
“I heard you. Earlier.”
Robby froze. “What?”
“In…in the b-bathroom.” Whitaker kept his gaze trained on the floor.
Robby felt his blood run cold. Fuck. He was in deep, deep shit. There was no use denying it. What could he do now? Skip town and change his name?
“Shit, Dennis I—” he ran a hand down his face, his heart beating erratically in his chest. “Fuck. I'm sorry. That was…I don’t even have the words to describe how inappropriate that was of me to do. I invited you into my home, and I—“
“Was it me?”
Robby stopped short, his words dying on the tip of his tongue. “I’m—sorry?”
“When you…” Dennis trailed off, nodding his head in the direction of the bathroom. He scratched at his arm—a nervous tick. “Was it…were you thinking about me?”
There was no point in lying. “Yes. Yeah," Robby muttered, his hands still covering his face. “Shit. Fuck me. I’m sorry, Dennis, I’ll—listen, I can call you a cab, or I can see if Santos come pick you—”
A pair of hands tugged at Robby’s wrists and he lowered his hands, startled to find Whitaker now inches away from him. This close, he could see the freckles that were smattered across the bridge of his nose. His hands were slightly cold, but it was a welcome relief on Robby’s feverishly hot skin.
“You want me to leave?” Whitaker tilted his head like a confused puppy. Robby swallowed.
“Well, I mean—I just seriously violated you, and I figured—you wouldn’t feel comfortable staying the night?”
“Did I say that?” Whitaker’s voice was unnervingly quiet. Robby felt the man’s gaze pierce through his skull.
“I, uh,” Robby stuttered, “You—”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” Whitaker continued.
“Oh…o-okay?”
Whitaker rolled his eyes. “Jesus.”
Before Robby could ask what the hell was happening, the younger man wrapped his fingers in his shirt and pulled him down for a bruising kiss. Robby gasped, his hands automatically settling on Whitaker’s trim waist and pulling him closer.
The reality of the situation caught up to him quickly. Robby pulled away, eyes wide. He gripped Whitaker’s hips as if they were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. “I—we can’t—”
“Who's going to know?”
“Fuck,” Robby muttered, and when Whitaker pulled him back in, he didn’t resist.
Robby knew he was thinking with his dick, but he couldn’t help himself. He finally had what he had wanted for months. He licked eagerly into Whitaker’s mouth, drinking in the pleased gasps and sighs from the younger man as his hands wandered across his body. Finally getting to feel up the body that had been plaguing his dreams was better than any therapy he could ever get. He brought his hands down to grope at his soft, round ass, delighting in the moan it pulled from Whitaker’s mouth.
“Whit—Dennis, fuck—bedroom, now.”
They stumbled into the bedroom, barely able to keep their hands off each other. Once inside, Robby all but tossed Whitaker onto the bed, climbing on top of him and caging him in with his arms.
Seeing Whitaker splayed beneath him on his bed, in his clothes, blushing and panting, lips slick with spit…it was a vision straight out of his wet dreams. Robby brought their lips together once more, savoring the feeling of Whitaker's soft lips against his.
“Fuck, been dreaming about you for months,” Robby muttered as he kissed his way across Whitaker’s jaw to his neck. Whitaker keened, his hands desperately pulling at Robby, urging him closer.
“Y-Yeah? What, ah, what have you dreamed about?”
“Kissing you. Fucking you. Eating you out, fuck, baby, you name it, I want it.”
He sucked a mark into Whitaker’s neck, then another. The man was trembling beneath him, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“And you want this too, I assume?” Robby asked. Whitaker nodded so hard he thought the boy would give himself whiplash.
“Please, Dr. Robby, need you—”
“Shit, kid,” Robby moaned. “You're gonna kill me.”
He tugged on the hem of Whitaker’s shirt—his shirt—and Whitaker nodded, raising his arms to allow him to slip the garment off. Whitaker was thin but toned, evidence of a meager diet and hours spent at the gym. Robby ran a hand across his pecs and watched him shiver, his nipples hardening.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “I want to fucking eat you.”
Whitaker’s blush spread down to his chest, turning the whole upper part of his body an adorable shade of pink. But Robby wasn’t done. He looped his thumbs in the waistband of Whitaker's pajama bottoms and waited for his approval.
“Yes, please,” Whitaker whimpered. He had barely gotten the words out when Robby stripped him bare, leaving him completely naked atop his sheets.
Robby never considered himself particularly religious, but he knew at that moment that if there was a God, he needed to thank them.
Whitaker, simply put, was stunning. Long, smooth legs, a trim and easily grabable waist (Robby reckoned he could wrap his hands all the way around—he would have to test that theory), and, of course, the one thing Robby had fantasized about for months—his cunt.
Robby quickly ran through all the questions he had. Shaved? To Robby’s delight, no—a thick patch of dark brown curls surrounded his newest obsession. Bottom growth? Yes, fuck yes—not much, but Robby could see Whitaker’s cock jutting ever so slightly out of his folds.
Taste? Robby licked his lips and glanced up at Whitaker, who was steadily turning redder by the second. It hit Robby that the man might be embarrassed about his anatomy—it certainly didn’t help that Robby was staring at it like a fucking gynecologist.
“So fucking hot, Jesus,” he whispered, his gaze drifting from Whitaker’s wide eyes to his cunt and back again. “You have no idea how much I've fantasized about this. Can I—can I taste you?”
Whitaker moaned and nodded, spreading his legs to make room for Robby between them. Robby lifted Whitaker's legs over his shoulders and placed gentle kisses on his inner thighs, his beard brushing against the soft, sensitive skin.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, and then dove in like a man starving.
It had been a while since he had eaten someone out, but it came back to him as naturally as riding a bike. He lapped at Whitaker’s folds, pushing his tongue into his opening, and then moved up to circle his cock with his lips. Whitaker thrashed beneath him, bucking his pelvis up into Robby’s face, and he had to pin the man down by his hips to prevent him from breaking his nose.
And God, even before Robby put his mouth on him, Whitaker was soaked. He tasted sweet, downright divine, and Robby couldn’t get enough of it.
“God, Robby, I'm going to—oh, my God—”
Robby sucked at his cock as Whitaker’s orgasm overtook him, completely soaking his face and beard. Robby had to steel himself to stop from coming in his pants right then and there. Whitaker’s thighs clenched around his head, trapping him in place as he licked up the remnants of his climax.
“Was that good?” Despite having Whitaker’s cum all over his face, Robby still felt the need for reassurance. Whitaker nodded, his eyes wide and jaw slack.
“God, Robby—I’ve, I've never—”
Now Robby's eyes widened. “Was that your first—?”
Whitaker nodded shyly. “I'm, uh, a virgin. Sorry. Should’ve told you earlier.”
If there was any blood left in Robby’s body that wasn’t already in his dick, it was on its way there now. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he muttered, diving in for another wet, open mouthed kiss. Whitaker took this opportunity to urge Robby out of his clothes, and he complied enthusiastically. He was well beyond his prime, less fit and far hairier than Whitaker was. He wasn't sure what the man saw in him but hey, he wasn’t going to complain now.
Then Whitaker brought his hand down to cup the front of Robby’s pants and he almost lost it.
“Yeah? You want that?” he said, nipping at Whitaker’s neck. Whitaker moaned and nodded, stroking his dick through the layers of fabric.
“I need to stretch you first. Have you ever fingered yourself, baby?”
Whitaker blushed and nodded shyly. Robby decided to file that away as future masturbation material and busied himself with slipping one thick digit into his cunt. He was already slick and loose from his first orgasm, but Robby knew from past encounters that he was on the larger side, and wanted to ensure Whitaker would be in as little pain as possible.
Now Robby could tick off another question on his list—Whitaker’s cunt was soaked and tight, practically swallowing his finger as he eased it inside.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he sighed, pumping his finger a bit faster before adding a second. He scissored them and then curled, searching for his g-spot. Evidently he found it, because Whitaker’s back arched off the bed, a loud moan falling from his lips.
“Please, Robby, need you now—”
“One more minute baby, I promise, just need to get you ready okay? Want to make your first time good.” Robby slipped in a third finger, the squelching of his fingers in Whitaker’s cunt bouncing off the bare walls of his room. He watched in awe as his three fingers glided in and out with ease, his pussy opening up just for him.
“Alright baby, gonna give you what you need, okay?” Robby pulled out his fingers and quickly undid his pants, standing briefly to rid himself of the offending garments and climbing back onto the bed. He grabbed his cock and stroked it a few times, letting Whitaker see what was about to be inside of him.
“Shit, you’re big,” Whitaker whispered. He looked more horny than frightened.
Robby smiled. “Don't worry. I know how to use it.”
He looked back down at Whitaker’s cunt and a realization hit him. “Shit. I don't have condoms—”
“Don’t care,” Whitaker said, “Please—”
“Whitaker.” Robby turned his Boss Voice on. “I’m already massively fucking up by—by fucking you, God, if I were to get you pregnant—”
Whitaker cut him off hurriedly. “I'm on the pill, and I’ll buy Plan B tomorrow, and if you don’t put your dick in me soon I swear to God I will die.”
“Jesus, I’m gonna die,” Robby murmured, his head swimming with pure lust at the thought of fucking Whitaker raw. He brought Whitaker’s legs to circle around his waist as he lined his cock up with his entrance.
“Tell me if it hurts, or if you want to stop,” he said. Whitaker nodded.
They gasped in unison as Robby’s tip breached his entrance. Robby gripped the headboard so hard he feared it would break. “Shit, you’re so wet—I’m not even all the way in and I'm about to cum—”
“If you don’t fuck me, Dr. Robby, I’ll—”
“—die, I know, geez. Give me, ah, a second.”
Robby slid himself inside, inch by agonizing inch, until he bottomed out, his balls tapping lightly against Whitaker’s plush ass. “Oh, God,” he groaned. Whitaker was so hot and so tight around him, pulsing with need.
Whitaker himself seemed to be in a similar state of ecstasy. He brought his arms up around Robby’s shoulders and pulled him down into a messy kiss.
“Can—can I move?”
“Please.”
That was all Robby needed to hear. He pulled out slowly, relishing in the drag of his cock against Whitaker’s soft walls, before slamming back in, punching a strangled moan from the younger man’s lungs. After that, Robby couldn’t hold back even if he tried. He planted one foot on the bed to give himself better leverage and fucked into Whitakers cunt desperately, the slick sounds of skin against skin filling the room alongside their moans of pleasure.
“Oh—my—God—Doc—tor—Rob—by—!” Whitaker cried out with each thrust, practically feeling Robby in his throat. “So—deep—fuck—!”
Robby couldn’t help but babble in response as pleasure overtook him. “Taking me so well baby, fuck, your cunt was made for me, so perfect—”
Whitaker dragged his nails down Robby’s back, urging him closer. “Fast—er—please—oh—Go—o—o—d—”
He felt Whitaker tighten around him as his thighs shook. Moments later, the younger man’s second orgasm hit him, causing his eyes to roll back in his skull as Robby fucked him mercilessly.
“Jesus, you’re so wet—fuck, gonna fill you up, gonna come in your pretty cunt—”
Robby tucked his face in Whitaker’s neck as his climax rolled through him, burying himself to the hilt as Whitaker’s cunt milked him dry. It was easily the most intense orgasm he had ever had in his five plus decades on the planet.
Robby scooped up the younger man and shifted them around on the bed, so that he was holding Whitaker on his lap. His cock, now softening, slipped out of his cunt, and Whitaker whined, burying his face in Robby’s shoulder.
“Good?” Robby murmured, placing a kiss on Whitaker's temple.
“So good,” Whitaker replied. His voice was hoarse, and he sighed contentedly. “‘M gonna be sore tomorrow.”
“You and me both, kid,” Robby sighed.
They sat there for a while, basking in their post-orgasmic haze. Robby thought about getting up to shower, but he didn’t want to leave Whitaker here alone in his bed after he just took his virginity.
“Shower?” he proposed. Whitaker nodded, cringing as he moved to stand and felt Robby’s cum slide down his thighs.
“Fuck, I—sorry—”
“If you didn’t come in me, I would’ve been so fucking mad, so don’t.”
Robby blinked. “Alright then.”
They trudged into the shower together—it barely fit them both, but they made it work. Robby could tell Whitaker really, really wanted to suck him off, but two orgasms in one day was a lot for him at his age. It was almost impossible to say no to those sad puppy dog eyes, though.
“How about in the morning?” Whitaker asked as they dried off.
“Kid, we have work in the morning. So unless you want to wake up, like, an hour early—”
“So that's a yes?”
Robby groaned. “I’m flattered, really, but—”
“Then can we plan for another time? Or…” Whitaker trailed off suddenly, looking down at the floor.
“Or what?”
“Or…is this, like, a one time thing that you’re gonna regret and pretend never happened?”
Robby sighed. “First of all, I don't regret it. I wasn't joking when I said I've been thinking about this for months.” he paused. “If you would like…I do want this to be more than a one time thing. But dating coworkers never ends well, y'know. I know that from experience. We’d have to be pretty strict about keeping our work life and…. this life separate.”
Whitaker nodded. “I'd like to give it a shot.”
Robby pulled him in for a chaste kiss. “Alright. Let’s give it a shot.”
They both fell asleep in Robby’s bed that night—after he changed the sheets again. When Robby awoke in the morning, it wasn’t to his alarm, but rather to a warm body curled up by his side and a hand lazily stroking his cock through his underwear. He groaned and rolled over on top of Whitaker, causing the man to yelp.
“What time is it?”
“Dunno,” Whitaker replied, his voice still tinged with sleep. Robby felt around for his phone and nearly had a heart attack when he saw the time.
“Shit, fuck. We're gonna be late.”
The two were dressed and out the door in a blur, taking no time to eat or have coffee or even brush their teeth. When they arrived at the Pitt, it was quarter past seven, and everyone raised their eyebrows as Robby barreled in, followed by a meek and apologizing Whitaker.
“Sorry, everyone. Crazy traffic this morning.”
If anyone questioned his arrival with Whitaker, Robby never heard it. At some point, he stepped into the bathroom to send a text to the younger man: “Remind me to pick up Plan B on my lunch.”
When he emerged from the bathroom, he found Santos and Mel cornering Whitaker at the nurses’ station.
“So, you show up late with a massive hickey on your neck. And now you have a text from an unsaved number telling you to remind them to pick up Plan B. How many times have I told you to not have unprotected sex with strangers, Huckleberry? I know you were desperate to get laid, but geez! Was he at least cute?”
Whitaker met Robby’s eyes in a panic across the room. Robby turned and walked in the other direction as fast as possible, hearing Mel say, “Well, I can go buy you Plan B right now if you need it!” before the door swung shut behind him.