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Robby’s knees are spread wide, pressed into the mattress. His body draped forward, leaning on his forearms, with his face hidden, a slight blush at what he's done to himself bringing out some of the shyness he was sure he'd gotten over. Ass open, stretched, and dripping with lube. Lace–silky and soft against his skin–wrapped around his cock, open where it counts—where Jack will fuck him. Haloed around his body by a frilly, short skirt and a bralette–a matching set–which rubs against his nipples, keeping his cock hard.
It's Jack's birthday and he wanted something pretty.
After all Jack's done for Robby, he wants to spoil him. Give him everything he's ever wanted and more. Several times over the years, Jack had spoken about how lingerie sets him on fire, how the very thought of Robby dressed up just for him could have him fisting his cock in the first available room he finds, unable to control himself until he'd come.
Downstairs, the door opens, followed by the telltale sound of keys being hung, boots being kicked off, and Jack's groan as he releases himself from his prosthetic.
“Mike? You home?”
It brings a grin to Robby’s face, one he has to hide in his arms. Oh, he's home. But he's a surprise for Jack to discover—no breadcrumbs here.
Careful not to smear the gold tinted lip gloss or the mascara on his lashes, Robby shifts to keep his head from resting anywhere that could muss the makeup. Calling out to Jack could get him here much faster, but it wouldn't be as fun.
“Mikey? Yo! Where you at?” That sounds further away, maybe the kitchen, like he's searching. He'll be upstairs soon enough. “I saw your car– Yo! Robby!”
Sounds on the stairs. The clunking of his Lofstrand crutches on the hardwood, and then down the hallway. Until he is close enough that Robby can hear the frustrated huffs as he searches, annoyed.
“Mike, I thought you made reservations! I swear to Dana if you fell the fuck asleep, I'm gonna throw the whole husband away and get a new one! So brand new he'll still have that new car sme–”
Their bedroom door hits the wall, and although Robby can't see him, he knows the sputtering sounds of Jack Abbot short circuiting anywhere.
“Jesus fuck. Happy birthday to me–”
A grin splits across Robby’s face, and he flexes his back downward, forcing his ass to open wider, inviting Jack to touch. The movement shifts his hole enough that a long drop of lube spills out and travels down his perineum. There's enough to pretend, to make it seem like Robby's hole is wet and ready just like a pussy, just for Jack.
“Hi, baby,” Robby breathes out, finally lifting his head enough to glance over his shoulder and look at him. “You wanna fuck me?”
Mouth going slack, Jack moves forward, tossing one crutch to the side to reach out and spread him with one hand, his thumb dipping and rubbing over his hole. “Oh, baby girl, you have no idea how badly I wanna fuck you.” Gaze tearing away from the ass he so desperately wants to Robby’s face, Jack moans. “You look so pretty. Almost don't wanna mess up that makeup.” His thumb pushes, slipping inside, and Robby's eyes flutter closed, a breathy groan falling from his lips. “Then again, maybe I want to smear that gloss. Maybe I want–” he grunts, pressing his bad knee onto the bed to mouth at Robby’s back between the lacy straps. “You're a fucking whore, aren't you, baby girl?”
Inside of him, Jack's thumb twists and pulls downward, yanking on his rim, and Robby drops his head, his hips sinking down, trying to draw him in deeper. It sends a trill of pleasure through Robby’s body, and he clenches around the digit.
Jack growls in response. “Sure as fuck moan like one.”
“Jack,” Robby whines when his husband won't push in any further, “Jack– Please.”
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me–”
The thumb is gone a moment later, and Jack's hands are on his chest and hip, flipping him, manhandling Robby with quick and precise moves until he's on his back and Jack can drink in the sight of him. “So fucking pretty, but you know that, don't you, baby girl?”
“Only for you, Ja–”
Three of Jack's fingers shove inside of him, curling upward to stroke against Robby’s prostate, sending waves of intense internal pleasure flashing through his pelvis. His voice, cut as short as his temper sometimes is, breaks through. “You will call me Doctor Abbot, slut. Got that?”
Fuck. That's hotter than it should be, and Robby brings his knees higher, shifting his legs to open his hips, his body begging for whatever Jack will give him. “Yes, Doctor Abbot.”
“That's my good girl.” Inside, his fingers roll up to pulsate against that spot inside of Robby, and fuck, he doesn't know how Jack does it, but he's already close.
“God, you're so wet for me, aren't you, baby girl?”
Head lolling to the side, Robby fists the blankets, his brain stuttering to answer. It feels too good, too intense– “You gonna answer me? Is your pussy wet for me?” The fingers press up hard against his prostate and he rocks them over the gland. Body jolting, Robby cries out as his first orgasm ricochets through him, his hands flying to Jack's shoulders, blunt nails digging into the skin.
“Fuck! I'm coming!”
Jack rides him through it, fingers moving in ways Robby isn't sure the human body should be able to. Until Robby is whining and shaking, trying to pull himself away, the small amount of come from his prostate dripping off his cock. A firm hand pushes down on his pelvis, locking Robby in place. “Do it again. Show me, baby girl– Show me again how pretty you are when you come.”
“Jack,” Robby gasps, the overstimulation wrecking his ability to think. “I can't–”
“What's my name?” It's enunciated by three long and hard strokes against his prostate. Each one sends Robby’s body jerking, his legs twitching and trying to close, but Jack leans forward, using his body to keep him spread. “Be a good girl, baby– Tell me. What. My name is.”
It's too much, feels too good, and Robby’s back arches as he comes again, head tilted back, pressed into the bed, his neck straining. “Doctor Abbot!”
“Fuck, baby— Look at you.” Fingers finally pulling free, Jack eases them out, both hands going to the back of Robby’s thighs to keep him open, eyes devouring the sight of Robby’s hole as it tries to clench around nothing. “If only everyone at PTMC could see you just like this—see how beautiful you are like this.”
That sends a flush that grows from Robby’s face down to his neck and chest. He could never, but Jack's got a voyeuristic streak in him. He'd splay him out for everyone to see if he could—even just to stake his claim on Robby.
“Doctor,” Robby moans instead of responding to what he's far too shy to, “fuck me– Please, please fuck me. Come in me.”
“God, you are filthy.” Sitting back, Jack finally lifts his shirt off, oily fingers leaving greasy marks that are sure to stain the fabric. “You want my come, baby girl?” His belt is pulled off next, followed by his pants. “What do you want with my come, whore?”
This is Jack's fantasy, and Robby knows exactly what to say. Half-lidding his eyes, knowing the mascara has made his lashes long and luscious, Robby lets his voice go breathy, needy, and desperate. “Put a baby in me, Doctor Abbot.”
“Fuck.”
Surging up through his legs, Jack attacks his mouth, sucking on Robby’s tongue and kissing him like he's never kissed him before. His hands rip his briefs down, nearly tripping himself in his haste to get them off before lying flat against Robby's body, pressing their cocks together. The lace against Robby’s is soft enough for the frot to send white spots across his vision, and he wraps his long legs around Jack's waist, canting his hips upward to increase the friction.
Jack's arms slide under Robby's back, and in an instant he's being flipped, their bodies rolling until Jack is the one on his back with Robby straddling him.
“Ride me, baby– Come on… Show me what those hips can do.”
Sitting up, Robby can barely still his hips long enough from the frotting to act, until Jack grabs his waist, fingers digging in. “I said ride me, slut. Do you want my cock or not?”
Groaning, Robby–with his hips still slightly thrusting of their own accord–lifts himself, hand reaching to drag Jack's cock into place. “I want it,” he gasps, lining his hole up. “Want your cock– Want your come–”
“That's my good girl.”
With the amount of lube inside of him and how much he's prepped, Robby is able to pop the head inside himself and drop down, crying out in his desire as his cock slides into place and presses against his prostate. “Doctor!”
“Make yourself come on my cock, baby girl. Do it.” Lying back, Jack fits his hands behind his head like he's relaxing on the beach and not balls deep inside of Robby. “But don't you dare touch yourself. You'll come from this–” he jerks his hip up, sending a powerful surge of pleasure through Robby, “–alone. Or you won't come at all.”
Whimpering, Robby’s head falls forward as he braces his hands on Jack's chest and lifts until just the head of Jack's cock is inside of him. He's a pro at this. Riding Jack's cock is one of his favorite past times, not only because he can drive Jack to the brink and back off as often as he wants to make him crazy, but because Robby knows exactly how to move and gyrate to get the most intense and delicious pressure onto his prostate. He can come and come like this, all the while holding Jack down and refusing to allow the man the same release.
But as much as Robby doesn't want to admit it most of the time, Jack is stronger than him. Robby can torment him while riding because Jack is allowing it, not because Robby would ever win in a scuffle with him. There's been plenty of times that Robby has come and tried to disallow Jack the same and he's been flipped and pinned down because of it. Plenty of times that Jack decides the illusion of control he's given Robby is done.
And Robby loves it.
Given the game they're playing, there's no way Jack is going to let Robby just ride him with no rules, or to even come close to edging him like Robby has done before. Tonight, he's baby girl and Jack is Doctor Abbot, and the power imbalance is clear and purposeful.
And definitely a bit fucked up, he's not gonna lie.
But fuck, when Jack praises him and calls him baby girl, or when he's stepped out of line and Jack turns to calling him whore or slut, it's doing something to him. There's a fuckton to unpack here, and if Dana ever found out, she'd smack them both silly, but it's doing it for Robby right now. He wants to be baby girl. He wants to get pregnant.
He wants Jack's praise.
Bracing his knees against the mattress, Robby leans down and settles himself on his forearms, popping his ass up and open. It gives him the leverage he needs, the angle he desires, and the ability to roll his hips. Up and down, cock sliding in and out. Slow at first, then faster—his body getting used to doing the work. In the lace panties, his cock is swollen, begging to be touched, his precome and what he released earlier staining the delicate fabric—he wants to drench them. To come and come until his balls tighten and he can climax that way as well, letting it all out, soaking the panties. Until he's dripping with his own spend.
Jack loves licking him clean.
Dropping his head, Robby clenches around Jack's cock, drinking in the sensation of his thickness dragging along his prostate. Over and over, expertly fucking himself as the pleasure pools and grows—until his body is tingling and warm, sweat dripping from his hairline, thighs quivering.
He's so close.
“Doctor Abbot,” he breathes out, lifting his head to connect their eyes and moaning. “Oh, fuck– I'm gonna come–” One hand moves, sneakily reaching in between their bodies to palm over his cock. “I wanna come–”
Two hands fly out, grasping the hand rubbing himself and the other that's still braced on Jack's chest. “What did I tell you, whore?”
With nothing to hold him up, Robby falls forward, still desperately writhing on Jack's cock, a gasp on his lips as Jack yanks both of his arms behind his back and pins them there.
“Jack,” Robby pleads, unable to get the deep fucking he wants from this angle. “Jack–”
The fingers around his wrist squeeze. “What's my fucking name?” It's enunciated by a powerful thrust upward, his cock pumping in and out, fast enough that Robby feels his glutes rippling with the sheer force of it.
“Doc– oh fuck, right there! Doctor Abbot–”
“Good girl– Such a pretty slut. Come on, baby girl, show me how you come–” Leaning up as far he can go, Jack transfers Robby's wrists to one hand, his other grabbing fistfuls of Robby's hair, yanking him down to claim his mouth.
Doing his best to meet every thrust, Robby can barely kiss back. His mouth goes slack, allowing the onslaught as prostate orgasm builds and builds, until one particular press against the gland sends him over, and Robby’s body jerks.
“I'm coming!” It crashes through him, from his belly down to his toes and back up, wave after wave as his cock spurts out the pitiful amount of liquid from his prostate that's left after the first two. He doesn't stop rocking. Doesn't cease his confined movements, riding through his orgasm and moaning long and low.
Jack looks feral. His pupils, blown wide, are trained on Robby, watching as he shakes through his climax. “God, you are so fucking beautiful like this–” With quick and desperate motions, he releases one of Robby's wrists and brings his arm around to the front, other hand gripping the recently freeded limb and bucking up with his hips. Digging the heel of his good foot into the bed, Jack surges up, knocking Robby to the side and then to his back, pinning his hands above his head and somehow never disconnecting their bodies.
“My turn,” he growls, adjusting his knees to steady his body in between Robby’s spread thighs and snapping his hips into him.
Back arching, Robby’s head falls back, his body taut and willing as Jack's speed picks up, shifting his knees and hips until Robby releases a choked, guttural moan when he finds the angle to pound into his prostate. “Gonna fill you right up, baby girl—you want that? You still want my come?”
It feels so fucking good, Robby can barely answer him before a particularly hard thrust lays out his expectations. He's supposed to answer—Doctor Abbot expects it.
“Doc–”
“Say it, whore.”
Fuck. How can Jack expect Robby to formulate words when he's fucking him so deep and so goddamn perfectly. There is no blood left in his brain, and certainly he knows that Robby has lost all coherent thought.
“Slut, I asked you a question.”
In answer, Robby opens his hips wider, inviting him to keep fucking but it's still not enough. Jack's head dips, and he sinks his teeth into Robby's neck, biting him. Stretching his neck to the side to give him access, Robby struggles to even remember what was asked of him. He just wants to come again, and for Jack to come in him–
Oh. Right.
“Come in me,” he gasps out, any lucidity he may have been holding onto disintegrating along with his capability to form a cohesive thought. “Fill me up, Doctor Abbot—put a baby in me.” There is nothing left in his brain save for his desire. He wants to please Jack. For his tight hole to make him come, to be a basin for every drop of his spend.
If he could, he would actually get pregnant for him. He's baby girl, and he's for Jack to use to do whatever he wants. It doesn't matter—he'd do anything for Jack to keep fucking him, to come in him, to make him come.
Anything.
Anything for Jack.
“I need it,” he moans. “I need to feel your come–”
Heaving up, Doctor Abbot roars, his body twitching and jerking as his cock lets go and sends him over that cliff, his come spurting out and coating Robby's insides. He doesn't stop thrusting, even through his trembles, through the over-stimulation– fucking Robby through his orgasm, and there–
That familiar coiling is intense pleasure as Robby’s fourth prostate orgasm nears. Doctor Abbot lets go of one his wrists to drop in-between them, pressing his entire hand along Robby's length, using the lace to his advantage, that sticky wet lace–
And Robby is right there.
His prostate pulses at the same time as his cock is throbbing, balls drawing tight and releasing–
And he's coming, fighting against Doctor Abbot's hands around his wrists, his body arching, legs trying to close but blocked by the doctor's weight, his skin shivered with raised hair follicles and he's coming and coming and coming–
And then Doctor Abbot is off him, Robby still shaking through it as he's manhandled onto his stomach and he's being yanked him to his knees, fingers spreading him open and fuck, fuck–
His tongue—his wicked tongue. Licking into him, hand still palming Robby’s cock as he's sucking on Robby’s rim, eating up every single drop until Robby is crying with the stimulation and pulling away, fingers clawing at the blankets. But Doctor Abbot grabs him back, shoves him fingers inside rocking them against Robby’s prostate, mouthing at his glutes, and Robby shudders, hips undulating and trembling–
And he's coming again, screaming out his release as his used body is brought over one more time and he's finally allowed to collapse in a heap. A melted puddle of baby girl.
There's a flash, and Robby comes back to himself to see Jack putting his phone down.
“For posterity,” he grins. “You're so thoroughly fucked out and so fucking pretty like this–”
“Doctor–”
Jack's hands are careful as he turns Robby over. “Jack, baby. It's all done– You did so well–” He mouths at Robby’s neck. “So perfect for me–” Sitting up, he reaches for the closest crutch and drags himself to his feet. “Let me start a bath for you, angel, and get you something to eat and rehydrate. You did so well– Fuck, you're perfect.”
“Jack,” Robby whines, too fucked out to get it above a whisper. “Don't leave. Love you– Love you so much– Need you–” His breath shudders and he slides his hands down his body and in between his legs, letting his fingers dip inside of his completely fucked through hole. “Did you like your present?”
“I did.” Bending to nuzzle his neck, Jack plants an open mouthed kiss on the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. “Definitely buying you more lingerie.”
Good. Robby likes being pretty. Almost as much as he likes being Doctor Abbot's baby girl.