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Being an omega is tough.
Being an omega that towers over the average alpha with the build to back it is impossible. The childish dream of finding a true mate, of being loved whole by someone who is—in every aspect of their nature—made for him, extinguishes when Robby gets his first growth spurt instead of his heat.
He shoves himself into this other they boxed him in, masking his scent with blockers, enforcing a strict suppressant regimen, and exclusively going after betas or other omegas. He loved all of his past partners, from the highwind blur romance with Jack Abbot, the only other male omega in his cohort, in their twenties to the quiet intimacy with Heather Collins, the beta student who bites back as good as he gives. And, he thinks, he’s satisfied to live life this way. He never was a ‘normal’ omega. He nests when he absolutely needs to: in grief and sorrow, and with no remaining pack members from the family he was born into nearby, the need to scent dulls into an imperceptible ache that throbs only during the worst of days. This is all to say that he’s fine. It’s all fine.
Until Dennis Whitaker.
The first time Robby smells his scent, he nearly keens out loud. Freshly cut grass, the dense air before a thunderstorm, and the soft, grounding smell of orris root. Alpha—saliva pools in Robby’s mouth and he has to force himself to swallow before asking the new members of their team to introduce themselves. Dennis Whitaker, MS-4, the kid says. His steel blue eyes are soft and imploring as he looks up (dear god) at Robby, head tucked inward in a subtle display of submission for his senior. It makes Robby want to sink to his knees in front of him.
And that heart. Thump, thump, thump like a pulse point beneath his thumb. Robby could hear it even if they’re rooms apart, even when they are drowning in the chaos of the emergency room, this constant thrum of noise above it all. He hears it hammer buckwild in the first hour when he finds Dennis doing compressions on Bennet Milton, sweat dripping down his neck and wetting the collar of his scrubs. It’s distractingly loud when Robby tries to use that moment to teach. Dennis is a force—young and lionhearted—batting him off each time Robby corrects him.
“He had a HEART score of three,” Robby adds, shaking his head just as Dennis drops his chin back to his chest. “Who could tell me what that means?” He hears it then, too, like a roar in his ears of the heartbeat of someone who cannot give up, who can’t afford to. He wants to reach out and grab the man by his arm, he wants to let himself go and get this young alpha scent-drunk on his pheromones. The wolf in him whines with want and Robby stands imperceptibly still. It’s the first time in decades since he has had any sort of reaction from the animal within him. Mankind struggled for centuries to get rid of that primal part of their identities that any indication of losing control, whether it be by heat or rut, is extremely frowned upon. Robby had signed himself as a clear professional, someone who tamed the beast inside early on in his career, but evidently the wolf had merely been asleep, waiting. Robby pushes on, “He was your patient, Dr. Whitaker. Would you like to say something before we all take a brief moment of silent reflection?”
Dennis’s heart skips a beat, but not once slowing down. Robby wants to push him in a chair and tie him down until he gets it back under control. He doesn’t. “Uh, he liked Kentucky Bourbon,” Dennis offers, prying his fingers apart. It collects a small round of warm smiles around their makeshift huddle.
“Okay, good,” Robby says around a quiet laugh, “anything else?”
“I don’t know. I just met him,” Dennis mutters, face pale and eyes empty. The man shakes himself and nods. “No, he seemed nice. He was mated—” at that, Dennis’ shoulders slacken, his lips tighten into a straight line as he wrings his hands beside him. “Um, that’s it. That’s all I got.” Robby doesn’t mention the long, long pause between his atrial systole and ventricular diastole, as if the boy himself is forcing his own heart to stop. He doesn’t get a chance to do much else before Mel King erupts into a short burst of applause, which immediately tapers into awkward silence.
They follow the rest of the procedure in relative silence before Robby dismisses them back to their posts. He calls Dennis back behind the curtain as everyone leaves, asks him how he fares even when Robby could smell the despair on him and the sad, slowing drum of his heart. It makes him physically ill and his wolf is anxious to reach out and comfort. The most he does is assure the boy, “That’s the hardest way to lose a patient. It always hurts.”
But when Dennis looks up at him, slackjawed, eyebrows downturned at the sides, lips in a perpetual frown, Robby’s chest seizes. “Especially when it’s your fault,” Dennis adds, pinning himself down.
“This wasn’t your fault,” Robby cuts quickly. He adds a few more cushioning affirmations, all that he doesn’t believe in himself, and when Dennis calls him out on it, he’s only relieved enough by the way the boy’s eyes are less dark than before that he can’t help but tell him the truth. “No. Not even close. But, you know, you keep trying, which is all you can do.”
His mouth tastes like ash and he burrows his fists even deeper inside the pockets of his jacket so they don’t do something insane like scentmark his med student. But Robby is old and weary and there is only so much he can take of those sad eyes and that, now suspiciously quiet, heartbeat that he raises his hand, ready to stick his wrist against Whitaker’s neck when he turns them quickly to land on his palm. He gives the boy a tight squeeze. “You’re doing great, Whitaker.”
He must have accidentally let himself linger for too long because Dennis casts his hand a glance, nose twitching for something to hook into. It doesn’t seem to register to the young doctor what his body is doing and Robby takes the saving grace as it is, tapping the student twice on his arm before returning his hands back into his pockets. He dismisses him and quickly reminds him about Kiara, hand raised to reach out at Dennis’ wide eyes and pale face before the student ducks out of the curtains and leaves Robby alone beside the empty cot.
He rounds back to Dana after the successful STEMI, running back on Jack’s patient from the night shift and the braindead kid from the fentanyl overdose. His eyes catch on Dennis (it’s always Dennis) just on the other side of the nurse station, gaze boring onto the board, before Robby brings them back to Dana. “Can you also, um,” Robby starts, setting his voice lower in the way he learned back in med school after one too many call outs from his professors. He reaches down an octave lower than he normally goes, which makes it difficult to hear and understand him unless the person was directly looking at him to read his lips at the same time. “Keep an extra eye on Whitaker today?”
“Already on it. I heard he lost his first patient,” Dana responds just as quickly.
Dennis clears his throat. “I can hear you, you know.”
“Ah, sorry, kid. We were just talking about you,” Dana says in that tone that doesn’t welcome any room for arguments.
“Yeah. I heard. Dr. Robby asked you to keep an eye on me, but I’m fine,” Dennis says, then huffs before pushing off the station. “I’ll go check on central fourteen.”
Dana watches him go before turning back to Robby. “He could hear you? But you did your thing. Not even Langdon could crack your thing.”
“Yeah, well,” Robby replies intelligently. His heart pounds in his chest so hard he thinks he might throw up the protein bar he had an hour ago. He pushes it all to the back of his mind and focuses on one task at a time. Robby ploughs on until the PittFest mass shooting, until he fails to save Leah, until he breaks down in Pedes and shoves Jake away.
When Dennis finds him, Robby is half delirious, shaking with tears and snot running down his face as he clutches the Star of David in his hand, letting the sharp edges dig into the meat of his palm. Dennis doesn’t say a word, he sits down beside him, lets Robby cry and then.
Fresh cut grass, orris root, the air before a thunderstorm. Dennis is everywhere, the incessant push of the smell is enough to get Robby to choke on his next inhale, and Dennis rubs a flat, heavy hand over his back. He is tugged away from the memories of sterile hazmat suits and the cruel flat line of the heart monitor. Dennis is beside him, murmuring something soft he couldn’t decipher, but when Dennis offers his knuckles, Robby finds himself blindly rubbing his cheekbone against his cool, taut skin. It seems to be all the invite the young student needs before he presses his side against Robby and holds him. He feels like a pup, searching for a parent who he knows is long gone. It presses down on the barest parts of him, this need to be comforted and the search for safety. It makes him sick. When he stands up, he shoves Whitaker away, bile crawling up his throat. The noise that comes out of Dennis is nothing short of devastation. A punched out wail cut short and swallowed down before the soft close of the pedes room door. Robby squeezes his eyes shut, a fresh stream of tears falls down his face.
Dennis had scented him. His student scented him and Robby had felt safe.
Outside, the ER depends on him. It depends on each and every one of them. Robby feels his bones begin to drag. The effort to speak and react is herculean, but he fights against the catatonia that lulls him with each turn and each casualty. Slowly, they crawl their way to the finish line and the team is battered and worse for wear but they clean up.
When Langdon finds him outside at the ambulance bay, Robby thinks that maybe, maybe, this is the break. Maybe this student of his won’t disappoint and betray him, will give him reprieve instead of adding onto his grievances, but then Langdon begs and pleads and when Robby offers him the only thing he can that doesn’t risk both their jobs, Langdon hisses out, “What about you, man? What about you? I’m not the only one who’s a little fucked up here, Robby! Why don’t you look in the mirror?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I never had a complete meltdown,” Langdon bites out.
There’s a migraine steadily throbbing on the left side of his head. Robby scoffs. “No, you just caused them in other people.”
“You’re blaming me for what happened to you?”
Time stills. The buzz beneath his skin from hours of adrenaline is washed away by a lick of anger. The fury hits him like a wall. “What happened to me?” Robby repeats. He can feel his blood rushing through his body, ready to burst. He’s laughing, but it’s bitter and he hates the feeling, but he wants Langdon gone yesterday. “You are so full of shit! You let me down. You let everybody down, especially yourself.”
He’s walking away when Langdon drops the bomb.
“Somebody saw you in Pedes.”
His heart stalls. He’s shoving his hands in his pockets by instinct, the wolf enraged that their mate betrayed them. The urge to kill (something, someone, maybe himself) is so strong, he is vibrating where he stands. When he forces the words out of his mouth, he hopes Langdon could do him one last service and lie. “Who? Whitaker?”
It’s only that brief pause and stare of confusion that brings him back from the edge. “No,” Langdon says. “A night shift nurse. Saw you on the floor. Said it looked like…”
“Looked like what?” Robby challenges, the anger redirected but sharp, as lethal, as ever. He wants nothing more than to pin Langdon down and scruff him by the neck. He feels his fangs begin to lengthen and Robby knows he has to walk away. Even when Langdon shouts back one last mean retort, Robby digs his heels onto the pavement and walks himself inside.
He bumps into Whitaker.
“Dr. Robby,” the student says. His eyes are skittish, hands worrying at his sides. Then, the boy does something far too quick for Robby to recognise because in the next second, two firm hands grip his arms and turn him around. “Where are you hurt?”
Robby fights himself out of Dennis’ hold, blinking in confusion and the last licks of ire. “What are you talking about, Whitaker?”
“I heard,” Dennis starts. He looks like he’s gasping, shifting his weight from one leg to another. He scratches the nape of his neck. “I heard you.”
“What I discussed with Dr. Langdon is not—”
“Your heart. I heard your heart,” Dennis corrects. He holds both hands up. “I didn’t hear your conversation, I swear. Your heartbeat was frantic, it was like you were…” the kid closes his eyes and clenches his fingers into fists. “It was like you were coding.” When Robby doesn’t respond in time, Dennis’ eyes peel open and he’s up in his space. “Were you in danger? Did Dr. Langdon do something to you?”
“No,” Robby says, stepping away, prying Dennis’ worried hands off him. “I’m fine. Let me get back to you after the shift.”
He’s watching Jack and Walsh in the OR, fighting over the abdominal bleeding, and keeping an eye on Santos and their unconscious John Doe. He slips out when the bleed is controlled, asking Dana why she was still here and if she heard anything. He gets her to wrangle the rest of the day shift for a debrief. He stands before all of them. His tired, bruised team. Robby speaks a few lines about gratitude and pride and other things he couldn’t really feel but knows needs to be heard. He’s crying by the time he tells them all to go home and take care of themselves.
At the end of the day, he doesn’t think it’s Jake yelling at him that you’re not my father, so fuck off that does it. He doesn’t even think it’s the potential mate in that twenty-six year old student of his. It’s the sharp, harsh sobs of Leah’s mother losing her child as he steps out of the viewing room after breaking the news that makes him crawl the flights of stairs up to the roof.
Robby stands at the edge of the hospital roof top. His tired eyes sweep across the Pittsburgh skyline. There’s an ambulance siren whining below, hundreds of feet below, and he thinks it would be funny to hitch a ride by jumping down on it. When Jack comes to see him, the ache of comfort and safety is only second to his still screaming head. He walks up to the rail, just behind Robby, and drops his forehead against the middle of Robby’s spine.
“Nice speech down there,” Jack mumbles into him, just like they would do when they were still together, all those years ago. “Wish I had given it.”
Robby is stepping away. Stepping closer to the ledge. He feels Jack hook a steady finger into one of his belt loops and the notion of it is so absurd, he lets out a wet laugh. “I broke. I choked when people needed me.”
Jack brings him closer. “So, fucking what? Everybody has that.” He knows Jack so well that they might as well have been one person. Robby thinks, longingly, that they were at a point. He knows him so well that Robby tunes him out for the next few sentences because he knows he has used them on Jack before, on a night just like this, over and over again. It’s like playing cat and mouse with life. When Jack forces him to acknowledge the night, Robby is helpless but to nod. Even if only to get Jack to stop talking.
The calming soothe of Jack’s voice is grating on his ears and he wishes somebody else was up here with him. Someone younger, with a softer voice, someone who ran out hearing Robby’s heartbeat and thought he was hurt.
“Whitaker heard me today.”
“I’d be surprised if he didn’t. You shouted a lot.”
“No,” Robby says, climbing over the railing back to the safety of Jack’s space. “He heard me. My lower speak and my heartbeat. He’s an alpha.”
Jack stares at him unblinking then nods. “Holy shit. Get that drink now?”
“Yeah,” Robby says.
After the heightened peril of the mass casualty incident, the next few weeks of Whitaker’s rotation in the ER goes by swimmingly. He’s a good doctor with excellent, but still could use some polishing, bedside manners. Robby writes his letter of recommendation and saves it in his drafts folder, scheduled to send on Dennis’ last shift at the emergency department so Robby doesn’t forget. Without the stress of Adamson’s anniversary and the new starters, Robby’s newfound Omegan instincts are successfully hidden back within the safety of his white-knucle restraint. He catches Dennis turning his nose up as he passes by on that first week, but doesn’t comment, pleased to see the kid tame down that instinct by his second week.
But just because Robby managed to wrestle his instincts, doesn’t mean Whitaker did.
The boy is handsy. Worse than Robby during that first shift. Each time he comes for a brief, he rubs the side of his arm against any part of Robby he could reach, as if just bumping into him accidentally. It becomes the gossip stock for Princess and Perlah, who giddily asks him if he and Dennis were courting. After shutting down that particularly embarrassing line of questioning, Robby makes it a point to not stand too close to Whitaker lest the student scents him and confuses the rest of the department.
It doesn’t deter Dennis one bit. He eases off the scenting, but the kid is always there. Whenever Robby so much as feels the stress begin to catch up to him, Whitaker is beside him, taking stock of the situation and asking where he can help. He never jumps the gun, always waiting for Robby to let him know where he is needed and how to help. It relieves him, of course, but also brings about a whole set of unwanted attention to each interaction they share.
“That Whitaker kid sure loves helping you out,” Dana says casually while reading a returning patient’s chart. “It’s like he’s your shadow.”
“Shadowing is a good way to learn,” he says.
“You know that’s not what I meant. He’s, like, some protective hound.”
“Protective?” Robby asks, voice high with disbelief. “I’m over six-foot tall. What protection do I even need?”
“I asked him and the kid said he listens to your heart,” Dana supplies. She finally looks up at him to hand him the chart into his hands. “Don’t think he knows what that means yet.”
Robby rubs his hands over his face. “Did you tell anyone?”
“What?” Dana says, leaning in conspiratorially. “That your true mate is a med student? No. Of course not. But what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing.”
“Robby.”
“He’s graduating soon and wrapping up his rotation here. Whatever we do can wait,” Robby says. He doesn’t tell Dana about the nights he spends curled on his sofa, willing his wolf to quieten down from howling for its mate or knuckle-deep up his own cunt panting for his mate’s knot. He thinks she’d thank him for his mercy. “Besides, it’s not getting in the way.”
“You say that,” Dana mutters, but turns around to speak with Perlah about the patient waiting for ortho admission.
True mates are a dream. A silly, childish dream that Robby doesn’t need to indulge in because he is fifty-four years old. He has lived long enough to know when to give up and this was one of them.
“Would be nice though,” Jack says as they crowd around the bar after Whitaker and Javadi’s last shift. The whole crew, including Jack, had been invited out to Ruggers pub, the dive bar just five blocks down from the hospital. The evening is slow, not too many patrons but packed enough that the place doesn’t feel dead. Dennis is wrestled into a celebratory huddle with Jesse and Matteo as the two nurses pass him a pint. Jack has to elbow him at his side to tear his gaze away from the guy and order.
“What’s nice?”
“Having a true mate,” Jack mutters after he taps his phone onto the card reader and hands a cool, tall glass of lager to Robby. “All that spiderman-sense shit.”
“Spidey senses,” Robby corrects him.
“Whatever. I’m just saying. You got yours served in a nice pair of tight scrubs, might as well make the most of it, you know? It would be amazing to have that kind of dependability in the ER.”
“It could be a liability,” Robby argues, eyes once again gravitating to Dennis who laughs at something Santos says. “That first shift, man, I thought I would go insane. I could hear him everywhere. Smell him more than others. I couldn’t focus.”
Jack shrugs, now turning to lean against the bar stool to see what Robby was looking at. He scoffs. “It was new. Big fucking deal. You get used to it and when you actually seal the bond? That shit is gonna save your ass more times than you can count.” Jack tells him about his uncle in the country who spent his whole life married, but met his true mate at the age of sixty. “He got divorced and when he mated Carla, he said they could have entire conversations just in their heads.”
“We’re not psychics.”
“Maybe not,” Jack agrees, “but you never know. Mate bonds are so rare these days. True mate bonding shit… that’s all old stuff. Real old stuff. No one really knows what it means anymore.”
“So?”
“So… I think it’s your duty as a man of science to get your ass over to your alpha and figure this shit out. No more scaring yourself until you die alone,” Jack grouses, nudging Robby forward toward Dennis’ table. He takes a heavy swig of his beer, then rushes it down flat and smacks his empty glass onto the rattling table, startling Jesse nearest to him. “Evenin’, boys. Whitaker, congratulations. Hope the ER didn’t scare you off.”
“It could never,” Dennis says, a smile creeping up his face as he looks at Robby.
Robby coughs and tries to wrestle out of Jack’s grip, but the man used to top for a reason. “Great,” Jack says. “I gotta head back into the fray and start my shift. Would you guys take care of him for me? Thanks. Good luck, Huckleberry!”
Dennis’ ears redden as Jack deposits his empty glass on the bar and makes a quick exit. Robby thinks he hears Dennis mutter something about Santos, but Matteo is already pulling Javadi from the other table and asks them to join the two tables together to make room for Robby. He’s politely declining when Dennis’s hand circles around his wrist. “Please stay,” he says quietly, just loud enough for them to hear. Robby clears his throat and nods, falling into a seat Dennis pulls out for him.
“To Javadi and Whitaker,” Robby starts, raising his glass. “Congratulations on finishing your rotations alive.”
The team echoes his sentiment, Princess whopping thrice and falling back into the plush seating next to McKay. Nurse Kim sits on the other side of Whitaker and she bumps her shoulder into his. “Any idea where you wanna match in June?”
“That’s still so far away,” Whitaker starts. McKay calls him a coward, Matteo and Javadi begin to boo him, but Dennis looks around, almost sheepish, before landing on him. On Robby. “The PTMC ED wasn’t so bad. It’ll depend on the attending, though.”
Was he breathing? Whitaker’s gaze is intense. Heavy and dark in a way he doesn’t get to see under the harsh LED lights of the ER. The room feels hot and Robby’s grip on his glass nearly slips. He shakes his head and tries to go for nonchalance. “Oh, I think you’ll be just fine.”
Dennis smiles at him and asks Javadi where she’s heading next and the conversation continues. He nurses his pint as he listens to the little anecdotes the team throws out. Robby pitches in only when he is absolutely forced to, but otherwise remains satisfied with watching it all unfold. When he finishes his drink, he’s pushing his chair back to head to the bar. He orders another Cinderlands when someone slides up next to him.
“I’ll have whatever he’s having. You can put it on my card.”
A stranger about the same height as him, but bulkier in the shoulders where Robby is soft, grins. “I’m Peter, what’s your name, beautiful?”
“Robby,” he offers. So few people call him Michael these days. Jack uses it when Robby is being particularly difficult, but other than him only Robby’s family still uses the name. It’s too intimate. Too close to use anywhere else. “Thanks for the drink. You alone?”
Peter nods. He looks over to their rowdy table. “Looks like quite the party.”
“End of rotation. Two of them are finishing their time with us,” Robby explains. “You know how it is.”
“Would they miss you?” Peter asks, low. He steps closer to Robby, sliding his knee in the gap between Robby’s legs. He realises he can’t easily escape as much as he wanted to. Peter continues, coming in closer until Robby could feel his hot breath against his scent glands on his neck and suddenly things are wrong wrong wrong. He wants to claw at this stranger and shove him away for getting too close, but Robby hasn’t had to deal with such an animalistic urge that the very feeling of it paralyses. The sharp hint of fangs brush against his neck.
Peter is wrenched away from him. The speed at which he is torn away leaves a vacuum of cold, fresh air straight to Robby’s neck. It pricks into each pore and he’s curling from the breeze’s assault, but the crash makes him drag his head up. Peter is on his ass, head worryingly close to the legs of an overturned chair. The bar is astonishingly quiet, all heads turned to Peter and the inexorable, unmistakable wrath of an alpha wronged.
Whitaker stands in front of Robby with his back to him. His shoulders heave something severe and the air hangs suspended around them. It’s only when Robby catches the faces of his team, this deer-in-the-headlights, dead-eyed look that they’re throwing over his way—or, rather, Whitaker’s way—that Robby snaps out of it. He makes a move to step around Dennis and that’s when the young alpha turns to him.
Robby sucks in a sharp inhale. Dennis’ eyes are entirely ringed yellow, bright like sunlight. More animal than man. “Whitaker?”
“Dr. Robby,” Dennis says, but it comes out as a growl around his elongated fangs. His lips protrude around the girth of them and Robby has the sick, twisted urge to bare his neck at the kid. Fortunately for him, Dennis shakes his head and kisses his teeth, wincing as he retracts them back. It’s mesmerizing to watch them disappear and dull into plain incisors. “He was touching you, I—”
Robby takes one long look around the bar. He fishes out his business card and slides it over to the bartender. “Sorry. Call me tomorrow, I’ll sort this out. Thanks,” Robby asserts. He grabs Dennis by his arm, and then spares one nod at his team. “Heading out. Don’t get too crazy. See you in two days.”
The fresh air is sweet on his face. Dennis is kicking the pavement as they step out, refusing to spare him a look. Robby rolls his eyes. “Okay,” he says, “let’s talk. What was that about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try again.”
Dennis shakes his head. “I don’t… I’m not sure,” the kid insists. He peers up at Robby, that flash of something supernatural all but gone. It’s just him. Dennis, MS-4. “I was just talking to Trin–Santos and then I heard your heartbeat like that night from PittFest.” The mention of the festival nearly drowns him in sorrow. Jake still isn’t speaking to him and it has been months. Robby plants himself in the present. One thing at a time. Dennis tugs at his hair with one hand. “But worse. I could smell your fear. I could taste it and I turned around and I saw that guy about to bite you—”
“He wasn’t going to bite me.”
“His fangs were on your neck!” Dennis yells. His eyes are wide and crazed, staring into Robby like if he tries hard enough then maybe Robby could feel it, too. “You were there, scared, and some stranger had his fangs on your neck, what was I supposed to do!”
Robby scowls. The insinuation hurts. He expects this from any other young alpha, but not Whitaker. Never Whitaker. “I’m a grown man, Whitaker. I could’ve taken care of it myself and declined him without your help. I don’t need an alpha to step in and play hero.”
“It’s not about that,” stresses Dennis. He’s pacing. It’s the most energy Robby has seen out of the kid after a long shift. “It’s not about—I know you can take care of yourself, Dr. Robby. You could hand my ass to me and that guy any day, but this isn’t about some sense of alpha chivalry.”
“Then what is it about?”
Dennis groans, he’s clawing at his jeans. His curls are in disarray, sticking to his forehead that shines with a thin layer of sweat. When he speaks, it’s like the words are ripped out of him. “I just saw him about to give you a mating bite and thought I’d die if that actually happened,” he hisses, still not looking at Robby. “I thought I was going to stop breathing. I think I actually fucking flatlined when I heard you make that noise. Fuck, did you even know what you sounded like?”
Robby holds his breath as Dennis stops his pacing and finally looks at him, stalking closer. “You were so afraid you did this little pained thing, no louder than a breath but it broke my ears to hear it.” They’re chest to chest. He can feel Dennis’ lungs expand just over his jacket. He can feel the heat of him through their clothes. Robby doesn’t want the moment to end. His belly is tight, a pull unlike any other tugging him closer to the alpha. “Dr. Robby—”
“Michael,” Robby interjects. When Dennis stares blankly at him, Robby breathes. Fuck it, he thinks. “If you want to start acting like my alpha, call me Michael.”
Dennis’ face does this funny thing. His lashes flutter as his mouth opens, closes, then opens again. He grabs Robby by his sides and pulls them flush together. “Don’t offer things you don’t mean,” Dennis mutters, eyes flickering down to Robby’s mouth. “Michael.”
Robby surges forwards and closes that small gap between them. Dennis’ lips are soft and cool in the night air. The groan Dennis lets out echoes inside Robby’s open mouth and he can’t help but fist Dennis’ shirt in his hands. Robby’s tongue licks his teeth, sliding along the hot, wet muscle of Dennis’ tongue. Heat grows between his legs, he can feel the sticky wet slick line his empty cunt.
“My place,” Robby gasps out when he pulls away, just enough time for Dennis to duck in between the junction of his neck and nibble at the sensitive gland there. When the thin scrape of teeth ghost over his scent gland, Robby’s knees buckle and it’s only Dennis’ strong arms on his elbows keeping him upright. “Fuck. My place, now. Let me call a cab.”
Dennis is relentless as Robby punches in a request on Lyft. He’s mauling Robby’s neck by the time the car drives up to them. The ten-minute ride to Robby’s modest two-storey home in a quiet neighbourhood is heavy with silence. He thinks he manages a quick thanks to the driver before Dennis is pulling him out of the car and crowding him against the front door. They make it inside, panting. Robby locks the door and tosses his keys on the console. He’s too hot and not hot enough. The clothes are blistering against him and he’s racing to throw them off his body. He’s only in his boxers and Dennis stands ahead, mirroring him. There’s a noticeable tent in his underwear and Robby groans. He grabs Dennis’ arm and leads him to the sofa where he grabs one of the back cushions and throws it unceremoniously onto the floor before planting his knees on them.
“Michael,” Dennis starts, but it immediately cuts off into a warbled moan as Robby mouths the outline of his dick through his wet boxers. “Oh, fuck.”
White hot pleasure rushes to his dick at the sound of his alpha grunting above him all because of Robby. Dennis’ scent is heaviest here, between his leg and hip. Robby takes a deep breath in, groaning when he can practically taste his musk on his tongue. He thumbs the waistband on Dennis’ boxers and shoves it down to his ankles, mouth watering as Dennis’ dick slaps against his belly. Robby grabs to the base of it with one hand as he uses his other to steady himself as he takes Dennis into his mouth.
His eyes fall close, enraptured by the heavy weight of cock on his tongue and the constant murmur of praise above him. Dennis’s fingers roam over his scalp, sending tingles down his spine, before the palm of his hand finds the back of Robby’s head and he’s guiding Robby up and down his dick. He flattens his tongue along the protruding vein on the underside of the shaft, feels it throb against his tongue as Dennis shivers above him. Robby wants to make him fall apart. He wants to know Dennis’ limits, wants to wreck him so that his alpha would never—could never—shove his dick down another omega’s throat the same way.
“Michael, Mike,” blabbers Dennis. His fingers tighten into Robby’s hair. The tug is a nice, acute pain that makes him moan around his dick, which is answered by a shallow thrust and groan from Dennis. “Fuck, fuck—wait, Mike.”
Reluctantly, Robby pulls off with a wet pop, chest heaving. He’s aware his mouth is a mess, spit wets his chin and there’s a string of pre-cum connecting his bottom lip to Dennis’ cock head. His alpha looks down at him and groans, dick twitching. “So beautiful, look at you,” he says, using his thumb to smear the pre onto Robby’s lips. Robby chases after him, sucking his tongue into his mouth. Dennis groans. “Wanna fuck you. Upstairs or are you okay here?”
Dennis helps him up after Robby answers and they make their way slowly up the stairs. His knees are protesting but, god, was it worth it. Robby can still taste Dennis and he wants nothing more but to have Dennis in him again. He kicks the bedroom door open and pads over to the edge of his king size bed. Dennis follows, sitting beside him before raising a hand to guide his chin closer before planting a soft kiss.
“Let’s get you out of these, hm?” Dennis mumbles onto his lips, thumbing the tight band around his waist. Robby pitches a small whine and nods, nose nuzzling into Dennis’ cheeks as the man goes to take his underwear off. The frigid air makes his dick twitch and Dennis' hot palm descends over his jutting cocklet, rubbing in slow, firm circles. “Look at you. So hard for me. Want alpha to take care of you?”
It’s a visceral groan when Dennis gently lies him down on his back and shuffles him up on the bed before forcing his legs apart, licking his lips as he stares wolfishly down onto Robby’s clenching cunt. “Need you,” Robby moans, hands gripping onto his sheets. Dennis sweeps his lips over Robby’s neck, chest, thigh, then finally over his crotch. “I got you,” Dennis mutters before he blows onto Robby’s dick and then immediately covers it whole with his hot mouth.
Robby jerks so violently he is sure his back would pay for it tomorrow, but the blinding pleasure makes him drunk off Dennis’ scent swirling all around them. Dennis bites his inner thigh just enough for his scent to catch before he bullies Robby open with three fingers, pistoning in and out of him at such an obscene pace that the only sound drowning out Robby’s mouth is the squelching of his dripping cunt onto Dennis’ fingers. When Dennis curls his fingers up at the same time as he sucks Robby’s cock hard, something in his chest snaps and Robby digs his heels into the bed, arching off the mattress as his dick twitches and he squirts his spend all over Dennis’ chin.
“Fuck,” Robby gasps, body writhing.
Dennis crawls over him and plants a wet, salty kiss on his mouth. “You looked so good, nearly came just rutting on the bed,” confesses Dennis. Robby peers down and sure enough Dennis’ dick hangs heavy between his legs, head red and heat radiating off him in waves. “Ready for me?”
“If you don’t fuck me in the next five seconds I’m kicking you out,” Robby urges.
Dennis takes a pillow and shoves it under Robby’s hips, adjusting him just right before he’s grabbing his dick and rubbing it over Robby’s inner thighs and dick. He groans, “Just want to mark you.”
“Then fuck me.”
In one smooth slide, Dennis spears Robby open on his thick cock. He feels him deep in his gut, kissing his cervix and he can’t help but groan, clenching down. Dennis twitches inside him, biting his shoulder as he grips Robby’s hip in one hand and holds himself up with another. “You feel so good, fuck,” Dennis says, leaning down to kiss him. He picks up his pace and Robby can barely think over the feeling of being full, but he knows if he just… he shifts his hip up to meet Dennis’ thrusts and stars explode behind his eyes. Dennis grunts in response, slowing to ask, “There?”
Robby nods quickly and Dennis has always been such a good student. Such a good alpha. He rearranges Robby’s legs so that he has his left pressed against his chest while the right remains stretched out on the bed beside him. Then, he pushes his pelvis plush against the back of Robby’s thigh, stretching him wonderfully and hitting that spot dead on.
“Oh, fuck,” Robby moans deep in his throat and Dennis pistons in and out, harsher than before, slapping his balls against the curve of Robby’s ass as he drills into him. Robby is scratching the bed, clawing at something, anything, to hold onto as each thrust punches out a high-pitched unh out of him. “Fuck, alpha.”
Dennis nods, a bead of sweat runs down the shape of his jaw. “That’s it,” he says, “that’s it. My pretty omega. Come on.”
Robby is wailing as Dennis’ thrusts begin to take on a frantic pace. He’s positively crying out when Dennis grabs his cocklet and tugs harshly once, twice, thrice before he’s cumming on Dennis’ cock. Dennis gasps as his balls draw tight and he’s shoving his dick as far as he could inside Robby’s weeping cunt as his knot begins to inflate. Warmth fills his belly as ropes and ropes of cum coat his insides.
“Oh, shit, I’m knotting you,” Dennis blurts out with more clarity than Robby has. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry, let me try and pull out—”
“Don’t,” Robby warns, digging his heels onto Dennis’ back. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Are you on the pill?”
He’s old enough to be on menopause, but Robby doesn’t say that. “Something like that. Just calm down,” he says, mostly for his benefit. The panic in his alpha is setting off his own omega instinct to cower and hide. It’s almost insulting, seeing as they’re in his nest, in his home, where safety is paramount. Robby couldn’t help the upset whine that bubbles out of him.
Dennis is on him in an instant. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”
“Nowhere,” Robby mutters, already turning away. He rolls his eyes when Dennis holds him square. “Your anxiety is rubbing off on me. It’s disturbing my omega and we’re in my nest, so it thinks you’re saying my nest is not safe enough.” Not safe enough for a mate. Not safe enough for a pup.
“Oh. Sorry, shit, I didn’t even think about it like that. Fuck, I’m so sorry, Michael. I swear that can’t be farther away from the truth.”
Robby scoffs. “So you say.”
“I’m terrible with my words,” Dennis groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “But I’ve wanted you for so long that now that I’m here, I think my brain is just struggling to catch up.” Robby hums. He’s lulled by the soft patterns Dennis is drawing on his arm. “I’m insane about you,” Dennis confesses quietly. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re all I focus on. A patient can be bleeding out in front of me but if your heart skips a beat, I’m already looking for you.”
That tickles a laugh out of him. He swats Dennis’ arm around his midriff. “That’s not good of you as a physician.”
“You’re not gonna tell anyone though, right?” Dennis whispers into his shoulder. “Especially not my attending at the ER.”
“Sounds like a scary guy.”
Dennis nods against him. “Hell of an omega. Legend in the flesh. Want to make him my mate.”
Robby’s breath catches in his throat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Dennis affirms. “And not just because we’re knotted together. I’ve wanted to court you since my first day. You were the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Wanted to be good to you. Wanted to be good for you,” Dennis mumbles into his skin.
Robby can feel the heat stir in his abdomen. Maybe it’s all the cum or maybe that’s just how far gone he is for his true mate. He doesn’t want to scare Dennis off so he keeps his lips sealed and jokes that they should probably go on a date first before talking about mating. Dennis is already listing a few restaurants he wants to try around Pittsburgh and Robby comments on each of his choices before they settle on a little Italian place in Strip District and jots down a date for next week, just before Dennis starts his final rotation in Psych.
In March, Dennis shows up on his doorstep with flowers and tells him he matched into PTMC.
“You’ll be in the ER with me?” Robby asks, breathless, with Dennis’ arms still around him.
Dennis pecks his lips, then his nose, and his forehead. Nodding as he pushes their foreheads together. “I’ll be with you for the next four years.”
Robby laughs. It comes out a little watery, but he thinks Dennis won’t notice. Dennis who hasn’t been around in a few months since the system drags him into interviews and applications and all other preamble before his graduation. “That’s good,” Robby says. “That’s good because I might need you longer than that.”
“Yeah?” Hope shines in his young alpha’s eyes and Robby knows he’s itching for that mating bite. In his mind, they’ve already settled on the date. Some time next Spring after Dennis finishes his internship and is promoted to an RS-2 and Robby is a little less… burdened than now.
Robby nods. “Yeah.” He kisses Dennis once, twice. Then, he says, “I’m pregnant.”