Work Text:
If it helped, Jack didn’t mean to. A Google search on Robby’s tablet went awry when Jack’s dyslexia turned a simple search for proctocolectomy into “p-o-r-,” and the suggested websites that populated below the search bar stopped Jack in his tracks. It was clear to Jack that Robby had a favorite site, and the titles that showed up in his recent history reflected a healthy spread of interests. One toward the bottom caught his eye, though, and he scoffed to himself in disbelief as he tapped to open the link.
“Did you find it? I thought that’d be a good article to show the med students. We’ve had a lot of Chron’s patients recently.” Jack smiled politely at a groggy, rambling Robby from his position seated atop a stool at the kitchen island.
“No, but I found this,” Jack responded with raised brows and flipped the tablet around so Robby could see the screen. Robby pulled down his glasses from the top of his head. The second he realized what Jack was looking at, he stood up straight and cleared his throat.
“Um. That’s-”
“Haven’t you heard of an incognito tab?” Jack teased. Robby blushed a furious red as he strode to close the gap between himself and Jack. It wasn’t a secret that either of them watched porn - primarily to cope with the fact that they only spent about 50% of their time on Earth together - but their specific habits were an entirely different conversation. Jack looked down at the tablet and recited the title of the video. “Bootcamp Bunkmates Ditch Morning Training for Bare-”
“Okay, okay, okay! Haven’t you heard of privacy?” Robby quipped as he yanked the tablet out of Jack’s hands.
“First of all, if you ditch morning training, they kick you to the curb,” Jack explained, arms crossed smugly over his chest. “Second of all, if you have a thing for men in uniform, all you had to do was say so, Robby. I know a guy.”
Jack dropped the subject entirely. He knew that sometimes - when it came to certain topics that Robby found even remotely embarrassing - he had to treat Robby like a stray cat. So even though the thought of Robby getting off to military-themed gay porn turned Jack on beyond belief, he left it alone.
For a while.
He started with his dog tags. Jack rarely wore them outside of special occasions and dates that he commemorated every year - birthdays and death days of those he served with, mostly. So Jack threw them on for a shift here, a bike ride through the park there. Then came an increase in camo patterns - t-shirts under his scrub shirts, cargo shorts in his downtime, and even a new watch band. Jack had never really learned how to style himself as anything but a soldier, a veteran since leaving the service. Not only was this comfortable and familiar for him, it was also something nobody batted an eyelash at.
The final straw for Robby, just as Jack intended, was the goddamn fatigue pants. Jack casually wore them around the house with a belt and a tucked-in olive green t-shirt, everything just on the side of too tight. Robby couldn’t ignore him if he tried, and Jack donned a shit-eating grin every time he noticed Robby staring for a second too long while they restocked groceries, folded laundry, and caught up on some reading on the couch.
After a while, Jack accepted the fact that Robby was spending more time ogling Jack across the couch than he was reading his own damn book or minding any of his own business.
“You know,” Jack started with a sigh, licking his thumb and turning the page of his book. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh-oh.”
“No, you’re gonna love this.” Robby made a skeptical noise as he took his glasses off and scratched the back of his head. Jack abandoned his book and scooted over on the couch so he was sitting casually next to Robby, one arm resting along the back of the couch. “I was kind of thinking we could make a movie of our own.”
“...A movie?”
Jack nonchalantly brushed nonexistent lint off of his pants and shrugged. He followed Robby’s eyes, which scanned up and down his body, lingering extra long on Jack’s chest where his t-shirt was taut over his pecs.
“You know. A little Brokeback Bootcamp or-”
“That is not what it was called.”
“Yeah, you would know,” Jack acquiesced. Jack’s hand found Robby’s upper thigh. “We don’t need to roleplay. I know you’re still sore about not getting into Julliard. I just thought we could make a little something. We’re gonna watch porn anyway. Why not have some of us?”
Robby exhaled slowly through his nose and looked at Jack through his lashes, giving him his sometimes I just don’t know about you eyes.
By the time Jack got Robby flat on his back in bed, Robby’s expression had evolved into oh, I know all about you – and I want you.
“No, no, leave those on, please,” Robby urged when he saw Jack’s hands reach for his own belt.
“Relax, captain. I’m just getting this off. Pants aren’t going anywhere,” Jack explained coolly as he unbuckled his belt and slowly slid it off through the belt loops. After discarding the belt, Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He held it up and looked pointedly at Robby, wordlessly asking for permission one more time, because Jack honestly couldn’t believe any of this was fucking happening.
Jack undressed Robby fully and littered wet kisses all over his lower belly, hips, and thighs. Robby was half hard already despite the fact that they had only kissed briefly on the couch before Jack let Robby yank his too-tight shirt off. That was enough for Robby, apparently, who now bit his lip and drank in the sight of Jack’s well-defined arm and shoulder muscles. Only when Jack had Robby’s jeans off did he hit record on his phone, filming himself with a hand held out to the side, the screen facing away from Jack.
Robby did a double take at the phone - which wasn’t even filming his face - then tried to let himself relax against the pillows while Jack began mouthing at his cock through his underwear. Robby sighed shakily. Jack’s mouth was as heavenly as always, even though Jack didn’t seem certain as to where he should be looking, eyes darting between Robby’s face, his clothed cock, and the phone camera. Jack was sure to meet Robby’s eyes, though, when he finally pulled his briefs down and lapped at the head of Robby’s cock.
“Would you… would you be a dear?” Jack asked as he handed the phone to Robby, who took it from him hesitantly. Jack nodded at him and settled between his legs with both hands on Robby’s thighs. “I just think I need both hands for your dick.” Robby nodded back and made sure the phone was upright and steady in his hand.
By nature of the position, Robby began watching Jack through the screen rather than directly with his eyes. Jack liked to look up while he blew Robby, and something about the way Jack smirked directly at the camera before taking one of Robby’s balls into his mouth made Robby start to sweat, pre-cum dribbling onto his happy trail.
Jack was a showman, a slut, a perfect little pornstar in Robby’s bed, all eyes and lips and soft groans as he sucked Robby off. Robby tried his best to stave off any verbal noise he felt compelled to make, but Jack rewarded him with a smirk through the camera every time he so much as panted, making Robby’s efforts rather futile.
“Shit, Jack…” Robby sighed and reached down to grab at Jack’s curls. Jack grinned, then stuck his tongue out and smacked the head of Robby’s cock against it a few times before sucking him down once more. Jack was being slightly performative for the camera, but not uncharacteristically so, as he often enjoyed being a little over the top in the name of making Robby moan and squirm. Robby’s hand trembled more and more as Jack worked his cock faster, harder, wetter.
Once Jack deemed Robby sufficiently boneless, he took the phone from him and set it on the nightstand. He did his best to aim it at the bed at just the right angle without taking too much time away from Robby, whose skin was pink and clammy from head to toe in anticipation of exactly what else Jack had in store for him.
Rewatching the video after the fact - alone in bed - Robby had yet to make it past the part where Jack pulled his stiff, curved cock out through the fly of his fatigues and rubbed it against Robby’s own dripping erection. It made him cum every time. There were several more glorious minutes of frotting caught on film after that, with Jack eventually picking the phone back up to get a better, closer shot of their cocks straining against each other before they came all over each other in a whirlwind of pants and groans and swears and lazy attempts at the other’s name. But Robby never made it to those parts. Not yet, anyway.
The angles were questionable, the focus at-times blurry, Jack’s dogtags jingled in a manner that an unaroused mind would certainly find annoying, and Robby’s cheeks burned hearing his own voice, his own desperate moans and grunts of encouragement. It was cheesy, it was too much, it was a little awkward, but it was them, and Robby found himself positively addicted to the way Jack’s scheming, hazel eyes looked back at him, to him, for him on camera just the same as they did in person.
“Let me just say,” Robby murmured against Jack’s hipbone, “I’m really glad you find your career as a physician so fulfilling.” He kissed his way up to Jack’s pecs, tongue flicking over a nipple and teeth teasing the muscle underneath the tan skin there. It was the first night of their joint four-day stint of time off.
“Mm. Why’s that?” Jack asked. Robby tugged on Jack’s dogtags, which had become a semi-permanent fixture around Jack’s neck now.
“Because I think you could’ve made a killing as a pornstar,” Robby admitted with his brows raised. Jack grinned as Robby kissed him properly on the mouth.
“Well, it’s never too late for a side hustle,” Jack teased. “I take it you’ve been watching our-”
“Mm-hm.”
“Mm-hm,” Jack echoed against Robby’s lips, nodding. “You want to make another one, captain?”