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dontshootmespence · 4 days ago

Text

Ironically, I think so.

Clearance

Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Female Reader

Robby checks in on you after your hysterectomy and has his own way of clearing you to go back to work.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Power Imbalance, Medical Kink, Heavy Eye Contact With Robby, Hugging, Alcohol, Impromptu Pelvic Exams, Vaginal Fingering, Female Orgasm, Robby Talking You Through It, Kissing, Finger Sucking, Hysterectomy Details

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @likedovesinthewnd @skittles-archive

Everyone from work had taken turns coming over to check in on you after your surgery, all of them having their own versions of what caring for you looked like to them. For Dana it meant bringing you a home cooked meal and a bottle of wine topped off with the latest gossip. For Mel, it meant bringing you a plushie and watching Netflix while the two of you snacked on candy and popcorn. For Collins, it meant herbal tea and an electric heating pad to warm the spot where your uterus used to be.

For Robby, it meant bringing over a six pack of beer, the same brand you’d shared with him after your last long day of work together. The same brand he’d sipped while giving you that look from across the park benches, finally asking you if a boyfriend or girlfriend would mind if he walked you home this late at night. The same brand that you could smell on his breath and practically taste in the air as he rested his forehead against yours when the two of you finally reached your doorstep, reveling in each other’s presence.

You could have sworn he was going to kiss you that night with how close your lips were, how drawn your body was to his, how connected your souls felt. But he eventually cut the tension in half by turning his cheek, wrapping those big arms of his around you instead, pulling you all the way into his chest. It was one of those life-altering, nervous system regulating hugs that consumed every waking thought of yours after the fact; something you feared you might never get over no matter how hard you tried. He’d held onto you as if he was afraid that you’d disappear the very second he let go, as if your upcoming medical leave was going to be the very last time he’d ever see you again.

But it wasn’t.

“So, how’s my favorite resident holding up?” His energy is kinetic, building up between you two like a rubber band pulled taut since he last saw you, as if no time had passed between that embrace and now. That maddening look of longing admiration hasn’t dimmed the light in his eyes one bit as he sits down next to you on the couch. His crisp, clean scent surrounds you just like it had done before, bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin as he hands you a beer. Your fingers brush over his knuckles for a split second before he pulls away and cracks one open for himself, briefly glancing at your face with a smirk.

“Going a little stir crazy, but I’ll survive.” You admit as you clink your can against his, the isolation of your medical leave weighing on you more than you care to admit. “Ready to go back to work, though.”

“It hasn’t even been eight weeks yet.” He raises a scolding eyebrow before taking a sip of his beer. “And as badly as I want to see your face every time I walk into that ER, you still need to take the recommended time off. It’s there for a reason.”

“Unless… you clear me?” You counter, a hopeful tone lacing your words as you playfully nudge his shoulder with your own. You want to make it abundantly clear that you haven't forgotten how the two of you left things, either.

“Fuck, you’re impossible.” He shakes his head again and laughs under his breath, exasperated but not seeming very surprised by your request. “Are you still bleeding?”

“No, thank God.” You take a sip of the stale, bland beer and make a face.

Wait a minute, is he actually considering your request?

“And how about your incisions?” He sets his beer down on the coffee table and turns toward you, his voice low but still professional. “Are they healed all the way? Steri strips fell off on their own?”

“All except for one, yeah.” You nod and tilt your head to look at him a little closer, attempting to gauge if he’s actually willing to entertain this crazy idea of yours or not. “It’s really stubborn though, still has some dried blood on it.”

He stares at you with a dangerous sense of warmth, that rubber band between you two pulling even tighter until his lips curl into a smirk as if he knows he shouldn’t do what he’s about to. You can feel it already, that shift in the air, that increase in your heart rate as he leans in close enough to count the lashes on your eyes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’s going to kiss you, but all he does is laugh under his breath until he finally gives in to your whims at the very last minute.

“Alright, I’ll clear you,” he mutters, his eyes completely black. “But only after I examine you.”

“Hmm?” You don’t pull away, don’t break the heavy eye contact as your body slowly heats up from his gaze. You almost miss what he said entirely as you nearly lost yourself in the deep hypnotic pools of his eyes.

Is he serious?

“Lay down on your back, let me look at those incisions, and I’ll consider clearing you for light duty.” He clarifies, taking the beer from your hand and setting it down on the table next to his before getting onto his knees, kneeling down in front of the couch.

“Oh, right, yeah. Thank you.” Holy shit! He’s really going to do this, isn’t he? He’s really going to touch you again with those hands, really going to examine you to see if you’re ready to go back to work and be a real person again. You swallow hard and follow his orders, laying down flat on your back as you try to control the subtle heaving of your chest.

“Did they keep your ovaries?” He asks, that voice of his just barely above a whisper as he reaches out to you, hesitating for a moment before lifting your shirt up just above your navel. “Or was it a total hysterectomy?”

“No, I still have them,” you respond, inhaling sharply as his calloused fingertips finally touch you, setting that spark inside alight as they brush over the sensitive skin of your abdomen.

“That’s good.” He smiles softly, that glint in his eyes never faltering as he palpates for any rigidity or tenderness. “Your abdomen’s nice and soft,” he rubs his hand more affectionately over your ribs and belly than he would a regular patient, the warmth of it spreading into your skin as he deepens his touch just enough to try to get you to relax.

God, that felt good…

“Thanks,” you manage to say before swallowing hard, mentally coaching yourself to breathe normally. “I guess.”

“Each of your incisions look good except for that one down here that we already knew about, but the strips should eventually fall off on their own.” He taps the area just below it, gently placing his other hand on your hip.

“Yeah, that’s what my surgeon said.” You try your best to keep your cool and relax the muscles that twitch beneath his hand as his opposite thumb traces small circles onto your hip.

“Any pain when I do this?” He presses his palm deep into the center of your pelvis this time, nearly making your back arch with the intensity of the pressure. But it doesn’t necessarily hurt, not really.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Any hormonal changes? Sleep disturbances? Decrease in your energy level or sex drive?” His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity you’ve never seen as he asks that last question, almost pleading with you to give him a reason to proceed even further. His fingers continue their intimate palpation of your body, barely grazing the hem of your sweatpants as his hand travels down a little lower, stoking that heat inside your core. “I know they kept your ovaries, but the surgery can still be a shock to your system for a while.”

“No.” Your heart skips a beat and he continues to handle you, practically molding you like putty in his hands. “No hormonal changes.”

“You sure?” He pauses, a tiny smirk curling his lips as he notices the quick rise and fall of your chest, the pulse thrumming in your veins. “I think I should check everything, just to be safe.” He glances down at his hands then back at you as if asking for permission, his fingers gently tugging on the elastic band of your pants.

“I think you should, too,” you whisper, instinctively lifting your hips with a simple nod of encouragement as you watch him carefully pull your pants and underwear down past your knees.

Holy shit this is happening, this is really happening!

“Fuck,” he whispers, licking his lips as he gratefully takes you in. You can hear his breath falter, see his eyelids flutter shut for just a moment before he touches you again, this time on your inner thigh. That rubber band between you two has now been stretched to capacity, snapping back into place as he traces his fingers up your thigh to the very center of your burning heat.

You had dreamt about this for so long, fantasized about him from the very first day that you met him, and now he’s here in your living room, touching you where it matters most.

“Tissue’s healthy, pink and moist. Blood flow looks good.” He speaks to you as if he’s still performing a routine exam in the hospital, as if he isn’t touching you the way that you’ve wanted him to for years. He clears his throat as he traces two fingers up and down your swollen length, slowly spreading your lips apart to get a better view of you. “No perfusion issues that I can see. Can you feel me alright when I touch you here?”

“Mmm hmm, I can feel you just fine.” His fingers send a thousand tiny messages to the neurons embedded just beneath your skin, triggering them to fire on all cylinders until your nipples harden and that moisture begins to pool between your folds.

“Looks like you’ve got plenty of estrogen keeping you lubricated, so that’s not a problem.” He hums to himself, a sound so deep that it practically rumbles in his chest and shifts into a growl as he dips his fingers into your entrance to collect the evidence. His lips part even further as he drags his sopping wet digits up your length and swirls them around your swollen bud, taking your breath away along with it. “Do you always get this wet around me, or is this new?”

“Always,” you confess, all pretense lost as he repeats the motion again and again, grinning with sheer satisfaction as he watches your face contort with each exponential wave of absolute bliss.

He was way too good at this.

“Always, huh?” He laughs, starting to focus more on your clit, rubbing it up and down instead of in circles, intentionally applying more pressure on the upswing to drive you extra crazy. “You ever soak through your scrubs after a long shift with me?”

“Just once,” you huff, his pressure on that magic spot forcing you to roll your hips into him, establishing a euphoric rhythm that sets every cell of your skin on fire.

“Just once? That’s it? Are you sure?” His smile wrinkles the freckled skin around his eyes as he increases his pace on your clit, his lips parting as he leans down to whisper into your ear. “I kinda find that hard to believe with how fucking wet you are right now.”

“Okay, maybe twice… mmmm, Robby!” You moan as he slides two fingers inside your slick walls, his thumb not missing a beat as it presses up and down on your clit, bringing you even closer to the edge. You can hear the truth of how wet you are, smell it in the air and feel it dripping down your thigh as he pulls his fingers out and pushes back in, pulsing a white hot heat into your viscera. You can’t help but arch your back again as it licks its way up your spine, his thick fingers continuing to stretch you out inch by inch.

“They took your cervix, too, huh?” He pushes his fingers in even deeper, all the way down to the knuckles until the pleasure becomes too much for you to handle, robbing you of his visage as your eyes roll back into your head. “Vaginal cuff with sutures?” He asks, his lips hovering over yours as he describes what he’s feeling, pretending not to notice you coming completely undone beneath him. “You seem to have healed quickly.”

“Mmm hmm, Robby!” You nod as your smooth muscle adjusts around him, the sound of his thrusts growing louder in your ears as that internal wildfire consumes each and every layer of organic tissue until the steam seems to rise up and out through your pores. It rips through your spine, violently sizzling its way through every neural pathway as the blazing inferno contracts every muscle in your body.

“That’s it,” Robby coos, his smile widening as he feels the product of your orgasm spilling down his palm and wrist, soaking the cushion beneath you. “That’s it, pretty girl, let yourself feel it. Let that dopamine and oxytocin wash all over you. Fuck, you look so good coming all over my fingers.”

You tilt your head just enough to catch his lips between yours as that final flash of ecstasy burns through you, bucking your hips and curling your toes. You groan as he hums against your lips, fingers relentlessly continuing their good work as your tongue tastes the desire on his skin. You reach up to cup his face, his beard soft against your palm as you deftly brush your thumb against his cheek. He kisses you back so deeply, tastes your lips with such an intimate fervor that you barely feel him slow his pace on your overstimulated organ.

“Holy shit, Robby, that was amazing,” you whisper as he pulls his fingers out of you, dragging them over your clit one more time just to watch you squirm. “You’re really good at that.”

He brings his fingers up to his lips and quickly sucks your essence off of them, as if he can’t wait to see what you taste like. “Mmm, your pH is well balanced. I don’t see why you can’t come back to work on light duty.” He glances down at you with a clear sense of pride, that smile never leaving his lips as his eyes roam over your freshly ruined body. “But let me make you dinner first.”

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