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The ED was not the place for insecurity. It wiggled its way into your brain and made you second guess everything you did. Whether or not you administered the proper dosage. Whether or not you missed something glaring in triage or in initial exams. Whether or not you really belonged here, whether or not you could have done something more. 

Robby had always been sure of his work. Even when he was an intern, bright eyed and bushy tailed and fresh out of Northwestern. He knew what he knew, and he knew he was a good doctor. He knew he was good at his job, even if his patient satisfaction scores didn’t reflect that to Gloria. He knew. It was evident with the way he moved around a patient’s bedside and calmly issued orders to the nurses in the room with him. 

He could walk into even the most intense of cases, everyone covered in blood and other various bodily fluids, and take control within a single breath. He had med students looking up at him like he had all the answers. He had the cockiest of senior residents checking and re-checking their work even when they knew they were right simply for fear of embarrassing themselves in front of him. That is, until he told them they were doing a good job. His praise was like gold. He didn’t give it out easily, so when he did you knew he really meant it. He had a reputation that preceded him even beyond the walls of the PTMC ED. Michael Robinavitch was good at his job. 

But that didn’t mean he didn’t second guess himself. 

It had been happening more and more since Adamson. Logically, he knew there was absolutely nothing he could have done. His sats were too low, he wasn’t breathing by himself. Even if Robby had magic- real magic, not the magic med students often claimed he had when he swooped in with knowledge of some obscure treatment to save the day- there was no way he would have been able to save Adamson. He knew this. Logically. But that didn’t mean he stopped blaming himself. 

He pulled a pair of gloves from the box on the wall, pulling them on as he stepped up beside McKay. He’d learned a long time ago to check his emotions- and his insecurities- at the door when working with patients. 

“Kiera, this is Dr. Robby,” Cassie was saying in that maternal voice of hers that let Robby know something was going on beyond the patient’s physical ailments. 

“Hi, Kiera,” Robby smiled, taking a seat on the rolling stool beside the bed. “Can you tell me what brings you in today?” 

“I’ve been, uh, having some trouble walking,” she said in a meek voice, not making eye contact with him. Robby looked up at Cassie. She pursed her lips and gave him a small shake of the head. 

“Okay,” he said and turned back to her. “Is it because of pain anywhere?” Kiera nodded, “Joints? Knees, hips, anything like that?” Another nod. Robby rolled closer to her bedside, pressing his fingers to her hip. 

Kiera inhaled sharply and flinched away from him before his fingers ever touched her body. Robby pulled his hands back quickly and studied the look on her face. Her expression was tight and drawn up, but it wasn’t from pain. It was from something else. 

“Kiera,” he spoke softly but keeping the firm edge to his voice, “I can’t help you if you don’t let me touch you.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. There was pain in her voice but it wasn’t physical. 

“It’s okay,” he patted the side of the mattress and stood up, peeling his gloves off. “I’m going to have a word with Dr. McKay and we’ll be right back, okay?” He waited for Kiera’s nod before stepping out. 

“That’s what I got too,” she said once the door hissed shut behind them. “She flinched away so hard when I tried to do an abdominal exam that if she had an IV in she would have ripped it straight out.”   

“I think I might know what’s going on here,” Robby sighed and folded his arms over his chest. Cassie looked at him expectantly. 

“What is it?” she asked, shifting her weight. 

“What do you think?” he prompted. 

“An old injury that’s been aggravated, ITBS, tendinitis, a tear of some kind,” she rattled off. “It could be any number of things. In her history she said she doesn’t do any sports, she’s twenty one, so I’d rule out arthritis. This has been bugging her for a while.” 

“Why do you think she’s so hesitant to be examined?” Robby narrowed the field. Cassie opened and closed her mouth a few times before shaking her head. “Look at the whole patient. What do you see about her?” 

Cassie considered for a moment, “She’s a bit overweight but otherwise looks healthy. Her vital signs were good, her heart rate was a little elevated but that’s probably just white coat syndrome." 

“A lot of overweight patients are scared to go to doctors for help,” Robby said. “Especially women,” he shouldered the door back open and grabbed a new pair of gloves. Cassie followed him, lingering in the background, just watching him work. 

Robby offered a smile, “Kiera,” he began, “The only way we can help you is through a tactile examination. I understand there are parts of you that you don’t like. I understand, I really do. But you are safe here. Myself and Dr. McKay have seen all types of bodies and all types of injuries. We do not judge.” 

Kiera studied him for a moment. He kept his face open and soft, allowing her to search for what she needed. Her shoulders slowly fell away from her ears and she stopped shielding her stomach just enough for Robby to get a look at her. 

“The last doctor I went to wouldn’t even touch me,” she said quietly. “He… had me step on the scale and… told me he wouldn’t even treat me until I lost weight.” 

“You never should have been treated like that,” Robby said. “Dr. McKay and myself would like to help find out what’s been causing you your pain and try to fix it.” 

Kiera’s gaze flicked between Robby and McKay, a look something close to disbelief, “You want to help me? Now? I don’t… have to be smaller?” 

“Not at all, Kiera,” Cassie came to stand on the other side of the bed, squeezing her hand lightly. “Now if it’s okay with you, I would like to do my examination and find out what’s going on.” 

Robby smiled and stood up, moving to leave before Kiera reached out to grab his wrist. “Thank you,” she said softly. If Robby hadn’t been paying attention he never would have heard her. 

“It’s why we’re here,” he replied, patting her hand lightly before stepping out. 

A heavy breath forced its way out of his lungs. The night shift buzzed around him as they began to fall into the rhythm of their shift, taking the reins from day shift. 

“Shen,” Robby said, pulling him aside. “There’s a patient in north seven with joint pain. McKay’s with her now, but Donnie is on night shift tonight. Make sure he keeps an eye on her.” 

“Sure thing, cap,” Shen said, taking a final sip of his iced coffee. 

“And would you mind calling me if anything changes with her?” 

“Yeah,” Shen nodded. “Anything I should know about her?” 

“Hesitant to receive care based on past medical fatphobia,” Robby said, lowering his voice enough for none of the passing nurses to hear. Shen pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. 

“Fucking doctors, man,” he said. “I’ll make sure Parker sees her too. She’s good at that sort of thing.” 

Robby smiled and patted his shoulder, departing with a ‘thank you’. The day wore heavy on him as he retrieved his things from his locker. Kiera wasn’t the first patient like that he’d seen come through the ED. Women were considerably more susceptible to experiencing medical neglect than men on the basis of their gender, not just their weight. He’d seen it time and time again. 

Memories of patients coming through who had pushed the limits of their body flashed through his mind. There was one that stood out from his time in New Orleans. A fifteen year old girl who had been adopted by a family of avid marathoners who ate like birds. They were all rail thin, their metabolisms so fast their bodies didn’t hold onto anything they put into them. 

She wasn’t. 

He sat with her for hours, trying to coax anything out of her he could. He was about to stay through the next shift and pull a double when she admitted her eating disorder to him. She wanted to fit in with them, be like them. She tried to follow their diets, stay low maintenance, be low cost. She had pushed herself so long without the proper nutrients to sustain her that her organs were threatening to shut down. 

She spent most of her childhood in the system, bounced around from home to home before getting adopted. When Robby talked to her parents after getting her stable, he realized exactly what he was dealing with. They were health nuts, five mile runs before most people were even out of bed. He was sure they had good intentions with adopting her. They were wealthy, they had everything. But they had no idea how to deal with a kid who had a different body type from theirs and needed different things than they did. 

It wasn’t unusual for Robby to dive back into his memories on his walks home. Someone told him a long time ago that it was his way of coping with the things he saw all day long. Connecting them back to previous experiences. He knew Kiera wasn’t as far gone as the girl in New Orleans- Libby, her name was. Kiera hadn’t let anything onto him about her eating habits, but he could infer. He was good at inferring. Not to mention that he saw it written all over her face. 

His apartment wasn’t far from PTMC, only a handful of blocks away. Robby liked walking, particularly on fall nights like this. The air was crisp enough that he could see his breath coming out in small puffs as he walked. The sound of music wafting down from some of the higher floors of the buildings around him mixed with the wail of sirens way off in the distance. A group of college students walked past him, laughing as they squeezed together to give him enough room to pass. 

He lived on the top floor of a little brownstone built sometime last century, Robby wasn’t really sure of the date. But he was sure that it was perfect for him. One bed, one bath, a nice enough kitchen for the little cooking he did himself. Potted plants hanging from hooks that looked like they’d been there since the building was constructed that he, somehow, hadn’t managed to kill yet. It wasn’t anything glamorous, but it was enough for him. 

He could hear the music playing before he even reached the top of the stairs. The smell of broccoli cheddar soup followed soon after. The reaction it garnered- fear instead of excitement- made his stomach drop. He stilled before opening the door, plastering a smile on his face. 

“Hey handsome!” Jack called as Robby toed off his shoes, not bothering to put them in their spot on the rack. Jack tossed him a grin over his shoulder. “How was your day?” 

“Long,” Robby responded. He hung his backpack on its hook by the door. “As usual.” 

“Anything exciting?” Jack prompted as he turned off the burner and pulled the pot of soup off the stove. 

Robby sighed, “Handful of migraines, med flight heart attack. One thirty four year old male with a stroke.” 

“Lucky you,” Jack said. “Go change, I’ll have dinner ready when you come back out.” 

Robby let him press a kiss to his cheek before slipping back into the bedroom. He could feel the thoughts starting to tingle in the back of his mind. He did his best to push them out as he changed, purposefully angling his back to the mirror in the corner of the room. The sweats he pulled on were big on him but still caught on his hips. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, squeezed his eyes shut until bursts of color exploded behind his eyelids, and reached for a hoodie. It too hung baggy on him, but he knew if he looked at himself for even a second it would turn into a full fledged breakdown. 

“What do you want to drink?” Jack asked as he walked back in. “Soup will be heavy, but it’s cold outside. Pinot Grigio?” 

“Whatever you like,” Robby responded, taking a seat at the small dining table situated under the potted plants in the front bay window. Jack hummed along to the Billy Joel song playing over the speakers and uncorked the bottle from the fridge. 

Robby stared at the bowl of soup in front of him, his stomach growling. He was hungry. It was creeping up into his ribs. But he didn’t want to eat anything. Although that was just going to make Jack suspicious. More suspicious. He probably already knew something was up from the second he walked through the door. 

The soup warmed him up from the inside out. It spread through his limps, down to the tips of his fingers and his toes. If it was any other day it would have made him feel good. But all he could feel was it sitting in his stomach like a brick- a lead weight, as he sat beside Jack on the couch. Jack. Who was sitting too close to him. Jack. Who, if he moved even an inch closer to him, would feel the roll in his side. Would feel everything wrong with him. 

****

He had the next three days off with Jack. They’d been planning on going apple picking at a little farm just outside the city. One of those cheesy dates they’d both been wanting to go on for years. 

Jack had run out to get them their morning coffee before leaving. Robby had torn apart his side of the closet while he was gone, desperate to find something- anything- that would hide him from Jack. 

He was surrounded by clothes strewn over the bed and the floor. T-shirts and jackets and cargo pants and jeans. None of which wouldn’t remind him of the extra weight he was carrying. He felt like a hypocrite after everything he had told Kiera yesterday, about understanding not liking certain parts of herself. About not judging bodies. Even though all he did sometimes was judge his own harsher than anyone else would. 

There was a finite amount of time before Jack would be home. And if his suspicions weren’t already raised after how quiet and distant he was last night they definitely would be when he saw the tornado that had hit their room. 

“Fucking hell,” he cursed to himself as he pulled a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel from the pile before stuffing everything else away the best he could. The jeans fit too snug around his hips. They dug in, the fat of his hips spilling over them. He dug his blunt nails into himself, leaving red, crescent shaped marks behind. 

His brain was already working against him as he pulled the black t-shirt over his head. The only small mercy he’d come across in days was that it sat tighter across his shoulders and chest than it did to his stomach. It was still significantly too tight for his liking, though. The flannel he shrugged on and left open distracted from it a bit, but it was noticeable. Especially to him. 

“Robby!” Jack called, breaking him out of his trance. He sighed, squeezed his eyes shut, and left the bathroom. “You ready to go? I grabbed you that apple fritter you like.” 

“You’re really on an apple kick today, huh?” Robby smiled as he joined him in the kitchen, leaning against the wall to put on his boots. He hoped his remark would hide the insecurity creeping in around the edges. 

“I can be in the fall mood,” Jack shrugged, holding out the white paper pastry bag to him. “I even got myself a pumpkin spice latte.” 

Robby took a second to study him. Jack’s gray curls were mussed gently, looking like he had just run his hand through them. Robby knew better, though. Jack had spent time looking in the mirror before going out messing with his curls to get them to lay just right. He was wearing a long sleeve button down. Dark green. It clung to the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms. It was untucked over black Carharts that hid strong thighs Robby knew were under there. 

“We should get going,” Robby said, plucking the keys from the bowl on the counter. “I’ve heard this place fills up fast.” 

Jack flashed him a smile and bumped his hip against Robby’s before going out the door. Robby tried to convince himself that there was no way Jack could feel the pudge that was there with how quick they were in contact. 

Robby drove, his hand resting on Jack’s thigh on the way out of the city. He listened as he rambled about something or another that had happened on his previous shift. He was lucky he had always been the quiet one in their relationship. It wouldn’t raise too many alarm bells. 

Though the pastry sitting untouched on the center console would. 

Robby’s phone buzzed as he parked the car in the gravel lot. “Shen?” Jack asked at the name flashing across his phone screen. “Why’s he calling you? You told everyone you wouldn’t be available for the next few days.” 

“I asked him to update me on a patient,” Robby answered simply, picking up his phone from the cup holder. “Wanna go get us bags or baskets or whatever they use here? I’ll meet back up with you.” 

“Sure,” Jack nodded. Robby saw it in his eyes. He was beginning to suspect something. 

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself before answering. “Hey, Shen. Update for me on Kiera?” 

“Femoroacetabular impingement,” Shen answered. “Donnie’s pulling a double, he just called me with the results so I figured I’d call you.” 

“FAI,” Robby sighed, looking up at the sky. “Her last name is O’Brien. I’ll put money on her being Irish and her genetics being all fucked up from the famine. Thank you, Shen. Really.” 

“It’s a good thing you got through to her when you did,” Shen told him. “Her x-rays showed a serious impingement bump. I’m not entirely sure how she waited this long or hid the pain that well.” 

“Her pain was ignored by I don’t know how many doctors before us,” Robby said. He looked up as Jack waved to him, holding up a wicker basket. He smiled at him and slowly started walking over. “Surgical or non-surgical treatment?” 

“Athroscopic surgery,” Shen replied. “Donnie said she went up an hour or so after the night shift went off. Any longer and she’d probably be looking at open hip preservation. Good catch, cap.” 

“Thank you for the update,” Robby said as he stepped up beside Jack. “Get some rest.” 

“What’d he have?” Jack asked, shifting the basket to his other side in order to hold Robby’s hand. 

“A patient came through yesterday with some pretty severe joint pain,” Robby said as they walked into the orchard. He hesitated slightly before deciding to give him the full story. “Kiera, twenty one years old. She told me she’d been to a doctor about the pain before and…” his voice trailed off, trying to find the right words to tell the story without letting on just how much it was affecting him. 

“Let me guess,” Jack picked up his sentence. “The doc told her she needed to lose weight before he would do anything?” 

“Bingo,” Robby said. He allowed Jack to guide him into a row of tall trees away from the rest of the families at the orchard. “She was a little overweight but… nothing that would directly cause that much pain. Nowhere near being a weight that would have adverse effects on her health.” 

Jack squeezed his hand lightly. “You did good, Robby. You’re good at that sort of thing, breaking through to patients.” Robby smiled and leaned down to kiss his temple. For the moment, he was distracted enough to forget the feeling of his jeans pressing into his hips. 

“Look,” he said, pointing to a tree a ways up from them. Nobody had gotten to it yet, bright red apples hanging from the branches. 

“Good catch,” Jack nudged him gently with a smile. “You wanna take the ladder? Your legs are better suited for climbing than mine.” 

Robby shot him a look before smiling and shaking his head. He moved the wooden ladder closer to the trunk of the tree and stepped up. “Woah,” he said as it wobbled slightly under his feet. 

“Careful there, handsome,” Jack said as he set the basket on the ground and stepped forward to place his hands on his hips. 

Robby wouldn’t have been able to stop the sinking feeling in his stomach if he tried. Jack’s hands were right over the waistband of his jeans, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh and brushing up under his shirt. 

“Jack,” he said before he could think better of it. He was frozen, steadying himself on the branch above him. “Please,” his voice cracked slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, brow furrowing. 

“Your hands,” Robby whispered. “Please.” 

Jack didn’t say anything but still moved his hands lower onto his thighs. Robby squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” Jack whispered.

“It’s fine,” Robby told him, plucking an apple from the branch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” 

“You didn’t snap,” Jack told him, taking the apple from him and depositing it in the basket. “You laid your boundary. How many times have I asked you to do just that?” 

“A lot,” Robby answered. He reached back up for more apples. 

Jack gave a squeeze to his thigh, “I never want you to be uncomfortable with me touching you. I always, always, want you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”  

**** 

Jack had made an apple and fennel salad for dinner. Robby spent most of the time pushing it around his plate. The cat was already out of the bag. There was no reason for him to hide what his brain was telling him any longer. He could tell Jack was expecting it. 

To his credit, he ate most of the food on his plate. It was green and fresh and crisp. It tasted good. Even if his mind was telling him that even one bite was going to add several more inches to his waistline. 

He was still lost in his thoughts- the ones telling him to sneak out after Jack fell asleep and go to the twenty four hour fitness center down the street to work off what little food he’d eaten- when he felt Jack step up behind him. A shiver went through his system at the light brush of Jack’s lips across the back of his neck. He tried to fight every instinct in his body telling him to squirm out from under him. 

“Shh,” Jack whispered in his ear. “Don’t think.” 

“I can’t not,” Robby responded, his voice wavering. Jack turned him around, hands on his shoulders where he knew they wouldn’t trigger Robby’s flight or fight. 

“You can,” Jack told him. “Let me help you.” 

Robby studied him the way Kiera had studied him in the ED. Searching for any signs of ill intent. Logically he knew it was Jack. He knew there was nothing Jack would ever do to hurt him. He knew he was safe with him. But he was still half convinced the illusion of love Jack was under would wear off one day and he would be left behind. 

Like it always did. 

“I don’t…” Robby interrupted himself, shaking his head. “I don’t want you to be scared of me.” 

“Michael Robinavitch,” Jack moved his hands to cup his cheeks. “There is nothing about you that scares me. Nothing. You are the love of my life.” 

“But my-” 

“But nothing,” Jack interrupted him. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me your hips spill out over your pants. You’re going to tell me your sides and back roll. You’re going to tell me you’re fat. I know all that. I’ve seen all that. Never once have I cared. I have only ever found it attractive.” 

“I tricked you then,” Robby said. His shoulders were tense. “Only way you could think I’m… everything you say I am.” 

Jack kept eye contact with him as his hands slowly migrated from his cheeks down his chest. They paused slightly, only to squeeze at his pecs. Robby made an involuntary noise. “I love your chest,” Jack whispered to him, leaning down to kiss the bit of his collar bone poking out from the collar of his shirt. 

“Jack,” he whispered. 

“Shh,” Jack interrupted before he could say anything further. “Let me do my thing.” 

Robby swallowed hard and leaned against the counter. Jack’s hands slid lower towards the hem of his shirt. Robby clenched his jaw, keeping his arguments at bay. He shook slightly as Jack lifted his shirt just enough to slide his hands against his hips. He squeezed before bringing them back around to his fly. 

Robby knew from experience Jack knew his boundary, that limiting himself to one sense was crucial to getting him to even think about accepting help. He tugged his jeans down enough to get his hands back on his hips without the interference from the denim. 

“Love these hips,” he mumbled against his collar bone, nipping just enough to get Robby to gasp. “My favorite pillow.” 

Jack’s fingers pressed into the soft flesh of his hips. 

“My stretch marks,” Robby whispered before he could stop himself. 

“Evidence you’re here,” Jack countered. His fingers slid across them, tracing their pattern up towards his side. He tightened his grip and lifted him up to sit on the counter with minimal strain. Robby grabbed his shoulders to steady himself. He tried not to let himself tense, knowing that his stomach was going to roll now that he was sitting down. 

“Fuck,” he swore to himself, knowing the roll in his side was directly under Jack’s palm. 

“Shh,” he was shushed again. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t care.” 

Jack moved his palms and down his side over the roll there. He nudged his knees apart, stepping closer to him. Robby let the hand on his shoulder snake around to his back, holding him closer. 

He started to let himself get lost in the feeling of Jack’s hands on him. They were gentle, light as they moved to the top of his stomach, just under his ribs. He pressed into the soft fat, a happy noise leaving his mouth. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, moving to kiss against his neck just beneath his ear. Robby squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to hold his breath as his hands wandered down. 

“Mm,” he nipped again as his fingers crossed the fold in line with his belly button. “Better than a pillow.” 

“Jack,” Robby pushed gently at his shoulders. Jack complied, leaning back from his just enough to make eye contact but not enough for his hands to leave Robby’s stomach. 

“What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, eyes searching for anything wrong with him. 

“I want to see what you do,” he whispered. Jack smiled warmly, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes pinching. Robby loved it when he smiled like that, uninhibited and purely happy. He took one hand off his stomach and cupped his cheek again, leaning in for a kiss. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmured against his lips. “So, so fucking proud of you.” 

Jack took one of Robby’s wrists and moved his hand off the counter to press it against the crotch of his black Carharts. He gasped, feeling the bulge there, “Fuck, Jack.” 

“That’s all you,” Jack told him before licking into his mouth. “This body. Your body. You do that to me.” 

“Me,” Robby whispered. 

“You,” Jack repeated. “Fuck. I need you to take your pants off. I need to be inside you right now.” 

“Should you take your leg off?” Robby asked, already breathless from Jack’s kiss. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack shook his head, hurriedly pushing his own pants down. “I wanna feel these fucking thighs around me,” his sentence was punctuated with a squeeze to his leg. Robby whimpered and fumbled with his zipper. He jumped down from the counter just long enough to get them and his boxers down around his ankles. Jack pulled them the rest of the way off. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Jack swore, pushing his shirt up to his chest. “Arms up for me. Let me see how damn beautiful you are.” 

Ordinarily Robby would have dug his heels so far into the dirt he’d have given both Jack and himself whiplash. But he was so tired of thinking this way. He allowed Jack to lift his shirt over his head and toss it to the side. Jack made a hungry noise before planting his hands back on his stomach, squeezing and playing with the fat there. Robby watched, mesmerized. Jack dug his fingers in quickly before flattening them again. 

“I love this fucking body so much,” he all but growled. 

“Jack,” Robby grabbed at his shoulders, trying to pull him back between his legs. “C’mon. I need you.” 

“I’m here, baby,” Jack kissed his inner forearm. “Let me play with you just a little bit longer. I’m having too much fun,” Robby groaned, feeling his dick jump against Jack’s leg. “Oh baby. So needy for me.” 

“I need you in me,” Robby all but begged. “Now. Please.” 

“Okay,” Jack nodded, taking one hand off his stomach and pressing two fingers to his mouth. “I’m not leaving you- leaving this sexy fucking stomach- for a second to get lube. Get me wet, baby.” 

Robby maintained eye contact as he sucked Jack’s fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them. He pulled off of them with a wet pop. 

“Fuck,” Jack swore. He pushed Robby’s legs further apart with his hips, his fingers sliding against his hole. “Such a good boy for me.” 

Robby relaxed, allowing Jack to stretch him open on his fingers. There were days Jack could spend hours between his legs doing nothing but fingering him, working up and up and up some more until easing right back off. He could do it countless times until Robby was shaking and begging to cum. 

This didn’t feel like that. Jack fingering him to pleasure him. Either of them, for that matter. Robby could still distinctly remember a time Jack had gotten so hot and bothered from feeling Robby squeeze his fingers he ground himself to orgasm on the mattress. Still, this wasn’t that. Even though Jack was peppering a line of kisses across his chest he was fingering him purely to open him for later pleasure. 

“Atta boy,” Jack whispered in his ear, pressing their bodies together in one long line. His other hand slid up from its spot on his thigh to his hip, squeezing, kneading the fat there. He crooked his fingers as he pulled them out, tugging gently against his rim before relaxing them and sliding back in. 

“Jack,” Robby squirmed under his touch. “Come on.” 

“Ah ah,” Jack cooed. He leaned in and sucked his earlobe into his mouth, biting slightly. “Let me have my fun.” 

Jack scissored his fingers a few times. Robby felt himself relax around him, enough for Jack to make a satisfied noise and fuck him one more time, pressing directly against his prostate before pulling out. He looked at Robby intensely. Really looked at him. 

Robby squirmed under his gaze. There was nothing he could hide himself with. Jack would pull all the pleasure away from him if he hid. Instead he closed his eyes and forced the insecurity out. 

“There you go,” Jack squeezed his hip again. “Just focus on me. Not those words in your head. They aren’t true, Robby. Not one of them.” 

“Trust you,” Robby gasped, his hips bucking forward, trying to get anything he could from Jack. 

“Good,” Jack said before kissing him hotly. He claimed him. Left no room in his brain for anything other than Jack, Jack, Jack. He knew it was the ultimate goal, not to leave any room for the bad thoughts to creep in and take him away. 

“Please,” Robby gasped against Jack’s lips. “I need you.” 

“Spit,” Jack commanded, holding up his hand. Robby let out a shaky breath before spitting in his palm as commanded. He loved it when Jack got like this. Possessive. Protective. Like Robby was something worth cherishing. 

Jack slicked himself up, eyes staying glued to Robby’s torso. “Fuck,” he swore. “You’re so goddamn beautiful like this, all spread out for me.” 

Robby was shaking his head before he could think better of it. 

“No?” Jack raised an eyebrow that told him he was in trouble. “I thought you trusted me.” 

“I do,” Robby said. “Please. I trust you, Jack. I do,” he shivered, feeling the tip of Jack’s cock press against his hole. 

“Then tell me what you are,” Jack ordered. “Tell me what you are or I don’t fuck you.” 

“Please, Jack,” Robby’s voice cracked. “Please don’t make me.” 

“Then I guess you don’t want to get fucked,” Jack made a move to step away. Robby locked his legs around his waist before he could get too far. “You know what you have to do. Tell me what you are. Tell me how fucking beautiful you are, Michael.” 

“I’m…” Robby’s voice wavered. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, tensing out of instinct when Jack’s hand landed back on his stomach. 

“Tell me what you are. I won’t ask you again.” 

“Fuck,” Robby swore as Jack rubbed himself against his hole. “Fuck, I’m pretty. I’m pretty for you.” 

With a smooth roll of his hips Jack fucked into him. Robby cried out, digging his nails into the corded muscle of Jack’s shoulder. His hand went back to his hip, squeezing and kneading the roll of fat there. Every nerve in Robby’s body was thrumming with pleasure. He was being played like a guitar. 

“So fucking sexy,” Jack grunted into the slope of Robby’s shoulder. His other hand snaked between them, up his stomach to his chest to squeeze his pec again. “This fucking hair all over you,” his touch moved back to his stomach. “This stomach. This fucking stomach Robby. Shit. Do you know how much time I spend thinking about it? Do you?” 

“N-no,” Robby stammered as Jack pulled almost all the way out just to ram back in. He cried out, tossing his head back. 

“Fuck, every goddamn minute,” Jack bit harshly against his neck. “You’re so fucking soft. It lives fucking rent free in my head. Fuck. No one fucking compares to you, Robby. You’re the sexiest fucking person I’ve ever seen.” 

“Jack,” Robby whimpered. His dick was hard and leaking against Jack’s hip. Jack wasn’t moving nearly fast enough for his liking, too distracted by his words. 

“It’s true,” he said. “Every goddamn word.” 

“Please, Jack. Harder. Please,” Robby begged. He was so stretched out on Jack’s cock he could feel it in his lungs. But it still wasn’t enough. “Please touch me.” 

“Oh baby,” Jack cooed. He stilled his hips to wrap the hand that had been between them around his dick. Robby jumped and arched his back into the touch. “There you go.” 

“Please move,” he whimpered. 

“Tell me what you are again.” 

“M pretty f’you,” Robby whispered. 

“Louder,” Jack commanded. “Come on, Robby. I want the neighbors downstairs to hear how fucking sexy you are.” 

“I’m pretty!” Robby cried out. 

“Good boy,” Jack growled. He thrust in hard, his hips moving fast enough to rattle the salt and pepper shakers on the counter. All Robby could do was hold on for the ride. Jack knew his body better than anyone else. Better than he probably did. Every thrust hit his prostate dead on, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through his system. 

“M- m pretty f’you,” he babbled against Jack’s shoulder, curling around him. “F’you, Jack. Yours.” 

“Damn fuckin’ right you are,” Jack grunted. Robby cried out again, feeling the hand around his dick move upward slowly. He pressed hard against the sensitive spot just under his tip. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” 

“Please, Jack,” Robby begged. “I need to cum.” 

“You know you don’t need permission,” Jack told him. “Cum all over your pretty stomach.” 

Robby wantonly cried out. Jack’s words tended to have the same effect on him as his cock. He shook as his orgasm rocked him. Jack fucked him through his convulsions, stroking him gently. It felt like he was being held underwater, the blood rushing through his ears drowning out everything else. 

He was barely aware of the hand on his thigh, stroking gently. Jack was the sole thing keeping him sitting upright. 

“Robby,” he barely heard him whisper in his ear. “Robby, come back to me.” 

He forced his eyes open, focus landing on Jack. He smiled lightly again, his crows feet pinching. “There’s my boy.” 

“Jack,” he whispered. 

“That’s right, I’m here,” he was barely lucid enough to feel Jack take one of his hands off him. “God, you’re so fucking hot. Gonna cum on you. On your pretty fuckin’ belly.” 

“Plese,” he whimpered. “Cum on me, please.” 

“Fucking hell,” Jack grunted. Robby focused his eyes on himself just in time to see him spill over his fist, hot cum mixing with his own in the hair on his stomach. If he was twenty years younger it would have been enough to get him going for round two. Instead he folded forward, letting his forehead fall against Jack’s chest. 

“Jack,” he whimpered. 

“I know,” Jack smoothed a hand up and down his spine. “Just let me do one thing.” 

It took Robby a little longer than he was willing to admit to register the sound of his phone camera going off. He lifted his head from his chest and gave him a confused look. 

“Sorry,” Jack smirked at him. “You’re too fuckin’ pretty for me to let this just be a memory.” 

“Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me,” Robby muttered and let his head fall back to Jack’s chest. 

“Flip it,” Jack responded. He settled his hands on his hips and gave a squeeze before tugging him to slide off the counter. “Come on, let me go clean you up.” 

“Y’don’t have to do that, Jackie,” Robby murmured. “You’ve been standing for too long. Take your leg off. I can take care of myself.” 

“Jesus, Robinavitch,” Jack huffed. “Let yourself be taken care of for once.” 

If Robby hadn’t just cum so hard he saw white he probably would have argued. Instead he nodded and let Jack maneuver him into the shower. The water was warm as it beat down around his shoulders. It made him sigh happily and tilt his head back. 

He didn’t have any fight left in him. He allowed Jack’s hands to move across the plains of his body, washing the sweat and cum from his body. He could feel the insecurities circling down the drain with the rest of the water. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing Jack’s wrist gently. 

“My favorite thing to do is take care of you,” Jack replied, body wash lathering against his skin as he rubbed it in. “Besides, why would I pass up an opportunity to see you like this?” a sudsy hand landed on his stomach, fingers flexing into the fat. Robby didn’t flinch this time. Instead he smiled and let Jack explore. 

His hands moved over him reverently, as if he were committing his body to memory. Every stretch mark, every roll, every freckle, every thicker patch of body hair. All things Robby hated about himself Jack was worshipping. 

He toweled him off, kissing along his body as he went. Robby let his hand rest on the back of his head, fingers tangling into his damp curls. 

“I love you,” he whispered. Jack replied with a kiss to the swell of his hips as he worked a warm pair of boxers up over his thick thighs. 

“Go make yourself comfortable,” he said, standing back up before sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. “I’ll be right in.” 

Robby followed orders. He slid beneath the sheets and curled against the pillows, inhaling deeply. Jack’s scent clung to the pillows. He pulled it into his chest and curled around it, closing his eyes. He could hear the sink turning off in the bathroom followed by the sound of Jack’s crutches against the linoleum. 

He lifted his head just enough to watch him walk around to his side of the bed. He leaned his crutches against the wall beside the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed. Robby gingerly reached over and trailed his fingers down the indent of his spine. 

“Comfortable?” Jack asked. He opened his arms to him as he laid down. Robby hummed and nodded, curling into his chest. He let him settle before resting his hand on his side. Right where it rolls. Robby didn’t flinch. Instead he gave a happy shiver. 

“Thank you,” he whispered into the muscle of Jack’s shoulder. 

“I’m so proud of you, Robby,” Jack whispered. He pressed his fingers against the fold of skin. “You have done so good for me. My brave, smart boy.” 

Another shiver went through him. Jack’s hand slipped around to his back. His fingers traced the stretch marks running horizontally across his lower back. He squeezed his hip again before hitching his thigh up over his own. 

“Rest,” he whispered as he kissed Robby’s forehead. “I’ll keep you safe. 

“I love you, Jack,” Robby kissed his shoulder again. 

“My pretty boy.”