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Five shifts. Whitaker had gone five whole shifts without having to change his scrubs.
He walked into the Pitt on the morning of the sixth shift with a pep in his step. When Perlah shot him a questioning glance, he grinned and spread his arms. “Five shifts, no changes.”
She burst into applause, startling Robby who had just settled into his work station nearby. “Oh, look at our Huckleberry, all grown up,” she cooed, pinching his cheek just like his mom would. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed.
“Well, let’s hope we make it to six,” Robby muttered, fishing his glasses out of his pocket and perching them on his nose. Whitaker flushed and nodded, heading to the lockers to put away his bag.
Looking back on it, Whitaker is almost 100% sure Robby jinxed it. In the fifth hour of their shift, he was checking in on a patient with a stomach virus when they projectile vomited all over him, completely soaking him to the bone. He grimaced as he walked by the nurse’s station to the scrub dispenser, earning pitying glances from his colleagues.
“Guess your new record is stuck at five,” Dana grinned. Whitaker sighed.
“Guess so.”
Not only were his scrubs ruined, but so were his undergarments. Lucky for him, he kept a spare pair of underwear in his locker and didn’t have to go commando for the rest of his shift. Unlucky for him, he didn’t think to keep an extra t-shirt or binder.
He stripped himself bare in the bathroom and slipped the new scrubs over his frame. They were a size too small and clung to his body. He evaluated himself in the mirror—his ankles were showing, which wasn’t the end of the world; the sleeves were a bit tight on his biceps, which made his heart swell with euphoria; but he paused as he eyed his chest.
He was lucky to always have had small tits, and they’d gotten smaller as he shifted his workout regimen to focus on his chest muscles. However, there was still a small swell in his scrubs where they sat on his chest. That wasn’t the worst, though; he could survive a few hours without his binder.
No, the real issue was the twin nubs that pressed insistently against the fabric of the scrubs. He groaned and covered his face with his hands.
He had gotten his nipples pierced in college. Whenever anyone asked, he claimed he was drunk and it was a dare, but in all honesty, it was because he had really, really wanted them. If he was going to feel dysphoric about his chest, why not bedazzle it? Surprisingly, it worked; instead of spiraling when he looked at himself in the mirror before a shower, he stared at the shiny bits of metal and grinned. He didn't even get them thinking about future partners; he got them for him and him alone.
Now, though, it seemed the entire ED was going to get a show.
Whitaker sighed and trudged out of the bathroom. Maybe no one would notice. Even if they did, surely they wouldn’t say anything—
“Holy shit, Huckleberry. You never told me you got your nips pierced!”
It took about 10 seconds for Santos to find him as he exited the bathroom and zero in on his chest. He smacked her arm, leveling her with a stare that he hoped conveyed a general message of do not do this to me right now.
She laughed. “Sorry, I just didn’t think you’d have it in you, y'know, all that religious guilt and whatever. But I always suspected you had a freaky side—”
“Trin!” he yelled, and she doubled over, holding onto his shoulder for leverage. Their conversation was loud enough now to catch Robby’s attention, who walked over with his arms crossed.
“Dr. Santos. Dr. Whitaker.”
Santos straightened, her eyes still wet with tears from laughing. “Ah, sorry, Dr. Robby—”
“Dr. Santos. There's a patient in South 7 that needs a chest tube. I believe you said you wanted practice?”
Santos nodded eagerly and took off without another word. Robby turned to watch her leave before focusing on Whitaker again.
“So. Streak’s broken?”
Whitaker sighed and looked down at himself. “Yeah. Patient in North 5 has a stomach bug and threw up all over—”
He paused as he looked back up at Robby. The man looked like he’d seen a ghost, eyes wide and face pale. His gaze was focused on something—it wasn’t Whitaker’s face…no, it was a bit lower…
Shit.
Robby blinked when he registered that Whitaker had stopped talking. “No, yeah, uh,” he stuttered, eyes shifting to the floor and hand rubbing the back of his neck, “sorry that happened. Good thing there were, uh, scrubs in the dispenser.”
“Yeah,” Whitaker said. He felt like he was about to throw up.
“Well.” Robby clapped his hands together. He turned his head to look at Whitaker’s face, but the younger man caught the flicker of his gaze back down to his chest. A slight blush had made its way to his cheeks. “Time to get back to it.”
Whitaker nodded, and they went their separate ways.
The rest of his shift was blessedly uneventful (re: his nipples).
Minus when mckay clocked them and grinned, leaning in to whisper that she had hers done when she was around his age too. The ladies love them. Whitaker just blushed and nodded.
And minus when Javadi cornered him in the break room and asked him how much they hurt, because she had been thinking of getting hers pierced. Whitaker stuttered and stumbled over what the process was like, but Javadi seemed satisfied with his answer.
Other than that, aside from a few glances, things were fine. He definitely ignored the fact that Robby, who usually checked in with him every hour or so, seemed to be avoiding him entirely, to the point of exiting a patient room anytime he stepped in. He ignored the fact that the man’s face turned bright red every time he so much as made eye contact with Whitaker across the ED.
Yeah. Things were fine.
An hour after his shift was supposed to end, he trudged to his locker to retrieve his things. He knew Santos was waiting in the car for him, so he tried not to dawdle. He made a mental note to bring a new spare pair of underwear tomorrow and shut his locker. He nearly jumped out of his skin when doing so revealed Robby standing there, staring at him intently.
“Whitaker. Can I talk to you for a moment?”
He thought of Santos cursing him out as he walked to the car five minutes late. “We’re gonna miss Drag Race!”
“Uh, yeah,” he said.
Robby smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He still looked tense. “Great. You’re not in trouble or anything. Just wanted to check in about your, uh…” his eyes drifted down before snapping back to Whitaker’s face. “Your, ah, residency applications.”
Whitaker shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Uhm, going well. I applied for emergency medicine at a few places, as well as internal medicine. I'd love to stay in Pittsburgh, but I know that’s—”
He cut himself off as he studied Robby’s face. The man was nodding along, but Whitaker could tell he wasn’t listening. His eyes had once again drifted down, fixated on the bits of metal sticking out of his chest.
Robby blinked, seemingly waking up from whatever thought he had lost himself in, and shook his head. “Yeah. Sounds great. If you need a letter—”
The words came out of Whitaker’s mouth before he could truly process them in his brain.
“Do you want to see them?”
Silence hung in the air as Robby gaped at him, his face flushed. Whitaker cursed internally. What kind of question was that? To ask his boss, of all people, too? He opened his mouth, planning to play it off as a joke, when Robby grabbed him by the arm and dragged him around the corner. Here, they were shielded from sight, hidden behind the lockers.
Whitaker looked up to see Robby’s pupils blown wide. He stared down at the younger man, first at his face, then at his tits. He licked his lips.
“Whitaker. I need you to—fuck, ask me again.”
He swallowed. “Do you want to see them?”
Robby’s hand found the edge of his scrub top, slipping underneath. The tips of his fingers brushed against his stomach. He shivered.
“Can I?”
Whitaker took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes,” he whispered.
Robby’s hands surged up, lifting his scrub top until his entire torso was uncovered. He couldn’t help but gasp as the cold air of the hospital pricked his skin; his hair stood on end, and goosebumps erupted across his flesh. He didn't look, but he knew his nipples had hardened as well, making the jewelry stand out even more.
“Fuck me,” Robby whispered, eyes drinking in the sight before him. He glanced up at Whitaker and tucked the hem of his shirt between his lips, giving him full range to use both hands to squeeze his tits. Whitaker moaned, the noise muffled ever so slightly by the fabric, but still far too loud. Robby’s hands froze, and they both went quiet, listening for the sound of anyone else in the locker room.
Robby took his hands away, and Whitaker bit back a whine at the loss of contact. Robby tugged his shirt back down and glanced around the corner, making sure the coast was clear.
“My car. It's the black pickup truck near the ambulance bay. I'll be there in two minutes.”
Whitaker nodded and all but sprinted from the room, grabbing his bag and making a hasty exit from the ED. As he sped walked to the ambulance bay, he whipped out his phone and texted Santos.
huckleberry: don’t wait for me
huckleberry: i’ll be home later
trin: oh my god
trin: did you get kidnapped
huckleberry: no i’m fine i promise
huckleberry: i’ll explain later
Whitaker turned his phone on silent and tucked it back into his bag. He located Robby’s car easily and stood nervously beside it. His heart was racing, cunt throbbing between his legs. He had no idea what to expect once Robby got out here.
Suddenly, he felt a warm weight against his back, pressing him against the car door. He gasped as one of Robby’s hands gripped his waist and the other slipped under his top again, groping at his left tit. Robby pinched his nipple, rolling the pads of his fingers over the balls of the piercing.
“Fuck,” he said, his voice gruff in Whitaker’s ear. Whitaker could feel Robby’s hard length pressed against his ass through his cargo pants, and it made his head spin.
“Dr. Robby—”
“Get in. We can't do this here.”
As soon as he was there, he was gone, walking around the other side of the car and hopping in the driver's seat. Whitaker scrambled to follow, placing his bag on the floor and tucking himself into the passenger's seat.
They rode in silence. The air was charged between them; Robby settled a hand on Whitaker’s upper thigh and squeezed ever so slightly, and the younger man had to bite his lip to stop from moaning. He had no idea where they were going—if they were going to Robby’s, or a hotel, or what—but he wanted to get there as soon as possible.
It seemed like Robby was on the same page. After only a few minutes of driving, he muttered “fuck it” and swerved into a nearby parking lot, putting the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. He glanced at Whitaker and jerked his head towards the backseat. Whitaker got the message immediately.
Soon enough he was perched in Robby’s lap in the back seat of his car as the older man ran his hands and tongue all over his torso. His scrub top was gone, lost somewhere in the scuffle, and Robby’s hands replaced them, palming his tits and squeezing them. Whitaker gasped at the sensation, and at the sight—Robby’s hands were so big and so warm, and he was able to grip Whitaker’s entire tit in one handful.
“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me,” Robby muttered. He pressed his thumbs against each nipple, rubbing circles into them, his eyes flicking back and forth between Whitaker’s chest and his face as it contorted in pleasure.
“Please, Robby, fuck,” Whitaker panted, grinding down into his lap. Robby leaned in and nipped at his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. His lips moved south, peppering kisses and bites across his collar bones, until he reached his chest. Robby’s eyes met his as he wrapped his lips around one nipple, his tongue swirling around the bud. Whitaker moaned loudly, eyes fluttering shut as Robby continued to suck his tit. He used a hand to play with his other tit, pulling and pinching and rubbing. After a minute, he switched, pulling the other into his mouth and repeating the process.
It was all too much for Whitaker to take. He whimpered out a warning, dangerously close to cumming, but Robby didn’t seem to care. In fact, Robby brought his free hand down to the front of Whitaker’s scrub pants and pressed blindly as his clit. It only took a few desperate humps until Whitaker was cumming in his pants, Robby’s lips still attacking his chest.
“God, love your tits,” Robby moaned, bucking his hips up against Whitaker. Whitaker brought his hand down to stroke Robby’s cock through the fabric, and the older man let out a moan that he was 100% filing away for masturbation purposes. Robby continued biting and sucking at his chest, his hands gripping Whitaker’s waist so he could grind up into him.
Still reeling from his orgasm, Whitaker looked down at Robby in awe. His boss, his fucking boss, was going to town on his tits while desperately humping him. He bit his lip.
“Yeah? You wanna fuck my tits? Slide your fat cock between them, cum all over them?”
“Fuck, Whitaker, holy shit—”
Robby’s fingers dug into the skin of his waist almost painfully. His hips stuttered, head tilting back as he groaned, letting his climax rip through him.
For a moment, all that could be heard was both men's rapid breathing. Whitaker's skin began to prickle at the cold air. He suddenly remembered where they were and glanced around—it was dark out, and the windows had fogged up over the course of their tryst, but he was sure the rocking of the car and the loud noises gave them away. He just hoped no one was close enough to witness it all.
A hand on the back of his head redirected his thoughts, and he found himself being pushed forward towards Robby. His lips met the other man’s, and he didn’t think twice before opening his mouth and letting Robby push his tongue in. The scratches of Robby’s beard on his face as they made out sent tingles across Whitaker's skin that went directly to his still sensitive cunt.
Whitaker shivered—whether it was from the lust that still coursed through his veins, or the cold, he wasn’t sure—but it was enough for Robby to pull back and find his scrub top where it had fallen to the floor. Whitaker took it and slipped it back on.
“So,” Robby started. Whitaker’s chest tightened. This was the part where Robby said this was all a mistake and they should pretend this never happened.
“I know I'm doing this a bit backwards, but would you like to get dinner?”
Whitaker blinked. What? “What?”
“Or—if you wanted this to be a one time thing, I get it, I'm way too old—”
“No, no,” Whitaker said. “I'd love that. really.”
Robby’s eyes widened. He grinned. “Great. Let's swing by my place first. I, uh, need to change out of these pants.”
several hours later
Whitaker knelt on the floor in front of Robby’s couch, squeezing his tits together as Robby’s cock slid between them. Bruises and hickeys were starting to bloom across his pale skin, turning his chest into a piece of artwork, all Robby’s creation. Robby cursed as his cock pushed against his soft skin, fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Fuck, baby, not gonna last long—fucking gorgeous tits, my pretty boy, that’s it.”
Whitaker squeezed them together tighter, using his fingers to rub at his nipples. Robby came with a curse, shooting ropes of cum across his chest, white contrasting against pinks and purples and reds.
“God, you’re so perfect,” Robby whispered, titling Whitaker’s head up to kiss him deeply. Whitaker keened at the praise. After a moment, Robby pulled back.
“You're working tomorrow?”
Whitaker nodded. Robby smiled.
“Alright. If you wanna stay the night, I can drop you off tomorrow morning?”
The possibility of sleeping next to Robby in his bed was too good to pass up. He nodded eagerly, and Robby’s grin widened.
“Perfect. Let's get you cleaned up, and you can borrow some of my pajamas. Actually," he paused, pressing down on Whitaker’s shoulder before he could stand. Robby grabbed his phone and turned it towards Whitaker. He heard the shutter click a few times.
“Fuck, you look so good, baby,” he whispered. Whitaker flushed, rubbing his legs together in an attempt to relieve the ache there. Robby’s eyes flicked down to watch his movements.
“Actually, before we get cleaned up, let me show you the bedroom.” His voice was thick with lust, and Whitaker yelped as he was suddenly picked up bridal style and carried down the hallway.
huckleberry: okay so im not coming home at all tonight
huckleberry: i will see u tomorrow tho trust
trin: oh my god i thought you died
trin: uou better have a good fucking story to tell me dude or i’ll actually kill you
huckleberry: don’t worry i will ;)