The honorable Chief of Staff and Head of Surgery in the not so elite hospital, Cook County General, was drawn out of his usual routine of filing paperwork at the end of a long, grueling day of performing surgery by a soft knock on his door. His eyes flicked up to the opaque glass entryway, immediately taking note of the tall, broad-shouldered figure whose silhouette was visible through the blurry, tinted glass, knowing exactly who it was without even having to turn the knob.

Robert rose from the swivel chair behind his desk, sauntering to the door at once. He opened it slowly, as if there may be some deranged pervert behind it, just waiting to pounce on him and perform unspeakable acts on his short, freckled body—but the action was mostly for dramatic effect.

Who he found standing just outside the doorframe wasn't a violent predator, though. It was only his valued colleague, his dearest friend...but, most importantly, the surgical attending he'd just fired less than a week prior, purely out of spite—Peter Benton. He looked not at his former boss, but at the floor, his expression one you'd expect to find on some teenage punk being forced by their mother to apologize to some old bitch named Linda, who'd had every last one of her cypress trees toilet papered by them, all on one ill-fated Halloween night.

Robert stepped aside after a brief moment of observing Peter's defeated state, before stepping aside, allowing him to enter. He walked back into the depths of his office as well, motioning with one arm for Peter to take a seat in one of his overstuffed leather armchairs, before sitting back down in his own chair.

The shorter man leaned forward, lacing his fingers together, propping both his hands up on his elbows, which rest on the surface of his big wooden desk. He eyed Peter smugly, who still wouldn't look at the man, and settled his eyes on one of the model rockets Robert kept on his desk.

An evil little smirk soon found itself plastered to Romano's face. Neither man spoke for a minute, although they both knew what this spontaneous little meeting was about. This is gonna be fun.

"Dr. Benton!"

"Dr. Romano..."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" The bald man asked, though he could already tell by the look on Peter's face why he was there. Boy, did he wish he had a camera right now.

"Well, it seems that I'm unable to get my hands on another position after you let me go...and then blackballed me..." Despite the fact that he was talking right at him, Peter still wouldn't look up at Romano, his gaze now fixed at his twiddling thumbs. The bald man's smirk deepened.

"And I was wondering if maybe..." he trailed off, hoping the vindictive little trash can of a human being would just get the hint already.

"If maybe, out of the kindness of my heart, I'd put my nifty little offer back on the table?" Romano finished for him, the leer audible in his voice. Peter finally looked up at him then, gazing right into his coffee stained eyes, which glimmered with condescension and pride in himself.

"I was curious as to what you had in mind." Peter admitted, his gaze shifting ever so slightly. His boss leaned back in his chair, still looking like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Well, that all depends on how desperate you are for my little per diem position, Dr. Benton." Yet again, Peter looked as if he wanted to be shot dead on the spot before this conversation could venture any further.

"All right. I'll cut to the chase." Robert started again, eager to go home and catch a few old M*A*S*H reruns with his dog before he had to clock in at fuck-thirty the next morning. He sat back upright, peering at the taller surgeon in the chair through smoldering dark eyes, glazed over with the satisfaction of humiliating his beloved subordinate.

"You'll get the same old hours, same shifts, same old schedule. But no benefits. And you'll do what I want, when I want." The bald man explained tiredly, before adding; "Oh, and you'll work without pay for the first three weeks."

Peter looked back up again, evaluating the man's proposition with a dumbfounded expression.

"Dr. Romano, that's not gonna cut it!" He yapped incessantly, his deep voice taking on that usual bitchy tone it always adopted whenever he spoke with his boss. "I'm having enough trouble holding my head above water as it is! Do you know how hard I work around here? I just can't afford to lose a full three week's salary."

"Well, I'm giving you a position, what else do you want? And frankly, you're one to talk after getting me boned with that big ass fine last week!" Romano yapped right back, his lavish satisfaction beginning to turn into annoyance at his subordinate's persistence.

"Oh come on! Just give me a little more leeway here! I've got a son to support, bills to pay—" Robert cut him off, unable to give even a quarter of a fuck about Peter's financial imbalance.

"Yeah, yeah, WHATEVER! We've all got our own problems Peter! You shoulda thought of that before you made such a big fuss over Mr. Felcher—or whatever the hell his name was."

"Fletcher. Mr. Fletcher." Peter corrected petulantly, only aiding the giant pain in the ass he was in the process of giving the bald man in front of him.

"Fletcher, Felcher, same thing!" Robert bitched back, at his wit's end. "Look, it's either this, or you can get back out there and try finding a job around here. And good luck with that, too, now that every potential employer of yours in this city and the next three over knows what a meddling little wretch you are!"

"But Dr. Romano—"

"Don't you Dr. Romano me, Peter! Take it or leave it, I don't care! Now, respectfully, get the hell out of my office!" He yelled at the man, aggravation taking over his handsome features. He looked back down to where a mountain of unfinished paperwork lie, already picking his pen back up to continue on it, signaling that to him, this conversation was over. "And don't even think about coming back to me tomorrow for a better offer! Don't think about bribing me, either! All of the courtesy lattes and free breakfast burritos in the world will not change my mind! You are perfectly welcome to drop in tomorrow morning and start on my per diem offer, but mention one thing about your old job and I swear to God—..."

Romano stopped his incessant lecturing, not even bothering to look up, assuming that the silence from the other end of his conversation meant Peter had finally gotten a hint and left. He let out a soft sigh, allowing himself to focus entirely on the task at hand, beginning to feel the day's exhaustion sink in. He could already taste the fresh glass of scotch he was so eager to pour as soon as he made it home.

And, blissfully, everyone's favorite Chief of Staff and Ruler of All That is Medical finalized those documents, under the impression that Peter Benton was finally, for the first time in over a week, out of his hair...well, so to speak.

Or at least, that was until he was startled out of his current task by a pair of strong, sizable hands, which wasted no time in massaging his shoulders, trying to ease away the tension in his robust form.

He flinched, turning his head to face the offending being who dare put their hands on the Almighty and All Powerful, Untouchable Rocket Romano. His confusion and irritation soon intensified as he registered the intruder as his whiny surgical employee, Peter fucking Benton.

Robert wasted no time addressing their current position.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" It didn't come out all that threatening, though. His voice was at least a couple octaves higher than it should've been in a situation like that, and he was kept from looking at the man head-on by those powerful, yet surprisingly delicate hands holding him in his spot, keeping him almost straight in that swivel chair of his.

Robert just couldn't help but note the tall surgeon's expression. From what he could see from where Peter held him in his position, he was looking at him with an expression he'd never seen on his face in all the years he'd worked with him, despite the many, many tiresome hours spent with the man.

"Now I know that you can do so much better than that little per diem job. You just don't want to give me the satisfaction of getting off with a slap on the wrist." He was still working a few kinks out of Robert's shoulders as he spoke, gazing down at the bald man as if he were a basic bitch and Robert was a small pumpkin spice latte with soy milk, whipped cream, extra foam, and an apple flavored muffin on the side.

"No, Peter, you don't know that! And for Christ's sake, will you get your hands off me?!" Robert protested, trying to wheel away in his black swivel chair pathetically, only to be pulled back into place by Peter, who doubled his efforts.

The shorter man just couldn't help the soft moan that'd managed to claw its way up from his throat. As ridiculous as Peter could be when it came to his patients, he couldn't help but note how damn good he was at giving a simple back rub. He allowed his eyes to close briefly, reveling in the feeling of Peter's hands as he felt himself relax slightly in his grip.

Romano's current situation only became even more ludicrous the next time Peter opened his mouth.

"Oh come on, Robert. Don't be that way," Robert?! Since when the hell did Peter start calling him Robert?! "What you need is a little bit of convincing. That's all."

Peter's deft surgeon's hands moved from where they were working their way up Robert's neck and went down to his suspenders, pulling them loose from his shoulders to fall at each side of him. He'd discarded his lab coat not long after he'd entered his office, leaving him only in his shirt, tie, and suspenders, which were camo-printed in various shades of green all over. He pulled his arms out from each one, too mortified and awestruck to really do anything.

Robert came to his senses eventually, making a lame attempt to stand up from his chair, only to be gently nudged down by Peter, who then put one hand on the side of each upper arm, running his hands up and down against them, palm side down in a gentle caress. The other surgeon brought his mouth down to one of Robert's ears, the tip of which had since turned crimson from the dark blush that was slowly creeping its way across his face and down to his neck.

"Oh come on, Robert. You of all people can't be running away. Not from something like this." Peter purred into one ear, his hot breath causing Robert to shudder. He felt something stir in him. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it was probably related to the pair of hands that were now untucking his gray silk shirt from his dark brown slacks.

"You know, the two of us could have a lot of fun together." Peter murmured against one of Robert's silky auburn sideburns, making him shudder once more, closing his eyes briefly as the sensation wracked his body. "And nobody needs to know about this..."

"Peter...what the hell are you talking abou—"

He was silenced abruptly by Peter's mouth on his own, those stammered words of protest reduced to a soft whimper as the other man's tongue forced its way into his mouth.

It wasn't long before Robert found himself kissing him back with equal enthusiasm, something that surprised even Peter. He brought one hand up to clutch the collar of Peter's tan button-down shirt, holding on to it desperately as the man ravaged his mouth, taking his breath away as his tongue slid against every spot he could reach.

The shorter surgeon moaned softly again as Benton withdrew briefly to nip at his bottom lip, caressing the tender pink flesh there with his teeth. The action worked him up more than anything ever had in his life. He was sure his face was about as red as the blood that roared through his ears as Benton turned his attention toward his neck, working his way up to his strong jawline.

Robert's breathing picked up with every hot, wet kiss against his freckled skin. Had he actually succeeded in rising from the swivel chair, his knees would have buckled by now, leaving him to fall against his desk right in front of his subordinate. Not that it really seemed to matter at this point, anyway. Right now, Peter was dutifully turning his boss into a panting heap with his mouth, one that trembled slightly in his hands with every little bit of contact he granted him.

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Robert." Peter murmured against his lips once he'd made his way back round. He stood all the way back up all of a sudden, turning the flustered bald man around in his swivel chair to face him.

Peter fell to his knees in front of the shorter surgeon, putting his hands on both of Robert's own knees, spreading his legs like ignorant mask-less white people spreading the coronavirus on a sunny day at the beach. He brought one of his large hands up to Robert's groin, feeling for his member, which was already hardened from the evening's activities, which were escalating as quickly as Usain Bolt dropping speed on a nice, tall staircase.

Romano looked down from where he was gazing at the ceiling, his mind racing as the fiery sensation between his legs grew with Peter rubbing him, hitting all the right spots despite no skin contact with the man whatsoever. He groaned at the sight he was met with, taking in the image of Peter gazing at the bulge in his slacks as if he were a greedy little fat kid on Halloween, and his rock hard length was a bucket of assorted king-sized chocolate bars left on a doorstep, only to be accompanied with a small handmade sign reading, "Please Take One".

The taller, darker surgeon licked his lips slowly, intently, before moving to undo Robert's belt. Robert stopped him, though, worry invading his lustful expression.

"Peter...we—...we can't to this! Not here! Someone's gonna hear, or walk in, or something!" He stammered, holding Peter's hands from where they held onto his boar-skin belt. Peter brought a hand up to caress one of the bald man's rosy cheeks, stroking the soft skin there with his thumb.

"'s alright, love. I locked that door while you were lecturing me," he purred, gazing into Robert's dark eyes, which burned with desire. He didn't care what the hell was happening or what the consequences would be, in that moment, all he wanted was for Peter to just touch him already.

"And as for anyone hearing us," Peter began again, successfully loosening the man's belt this time, pulling the one side free from the buckle. "...well, you're just gonna have to be quiet. Or so help me God, I'll walk right out of here and leave you alone with your shitty little per diem job."

Robert just spread his legs more to the man, letting go of his hands so he could continue, his understanding of Benton's little warning quite clear.

He undid Robert's zipper next, and the bald man lifted his hips a bit, allowing Peter to pull his slacks down to his ankles. Robert stifled a loud moan with one hand as Peter brushed his hand over the bulge again, his touch a lot easier to feel now that he was missing one layer of fabric.

He pushed the fabric of his shirt up a bit, bringing his mouth up to his stomach, kissing the soft, sensitive skin there. The butterflies in Romano's gut went batshit crazy at the sensation, and he brought the hand that wasn't covering his mouth to the back of Peter's head, feeling his short black hair with his fingertips.

The taller man continued to pepper Romano's abdomen with hot, sloppy kisses until the man beneath him felt as if he would go insane.

"Peter...please..." he whined, the desperate ache between his thighs becoming all the more intense, making him feel hot and tingly all over.

He'd begun to perspire a bit from Peter's attention, and a few beads of sweat ran down the sides of his head, only to be wiped away by the tall surgeon as he pulled his attention away from his lower half to gaze into his eyes. They shone with strong desire and a raw passion no surgery, no matter how rare or extensive, had ever drawn from the man. And not to mention the complete and utter satisfaction of making his boss break down in his hands, making him relinquish the control he'd had mere minutes before, the tables turning with the bat of an eye.

"Please what, Robert?" Peter said in such a low tone that under the right circumstances, it'd have been enough to finish Romano off all on its own. Then, it dropped to a sultry whisper. "Tell me. What do you want me to do?"

Robert remained quiet for a moment, just gazing into those blazing, chocolate colored eyes, not sure if he had the strength, nor the courage to tell his noble subordinate exactly what he wanted the man to do to him.

Peter stood up slightly, holding Romano's head in both hands, positioning himself so that he stood between his splayed legs.

"Well go on. You did say that, per this modified position, you would be the one making me do whatever you want." He brought his face closer to the other man's in an almost kiss. Robert could feel his hot breath against his lips, which parted slightly, desperate for the contact that Peter was oh so close to granting him.

"...t-touch me, Peter..." Robert whined, any and all of the poise and control he previously had over this particular meeting leaving him completely as he begged. "Please..."

The sides of the taller man's mouth upturned slightly in an almost-smile.

"As you wish, Chief."

Benton lowered himself back down again, his nimble surgeon's fingers finding their way to each side of Romano's boxers. He pulled them down slowly, agonizingly slowly, allowing for Romano's erection to spring free.

His subordinate licked his lips as he gazed upon his swollen length, weeping at the tip as Romano's arousal peaked. Peter brought his hands up to stroke the insides of each thigh in a teasing caress, grazing his fingers over the pale freckled skin in little circles.

"God. Now I know why they call you Rocket." Peter remarked as he took in his impressive size, gazing at his bare member as if he were Donald Trump and it was a good chance to belittle a minority. He then brought one hand up to it, wrapping his hand around him, gasping at the sensation of his hot skin against his palm.

Peter took Robert's throbbing, aching member into his hand, stroking it slowly, drawing another soft moan from Robert, who quickly took to muffling himself with one hand. He used the other to run his fingers against the taller man's soft, dark hair, praising him for his efforts. His hips rocked gently as Peter sped up, unable to obtain a substantial amount of momentum from his spot in the chair. He still tried, though, working up a desperate wriggle between the offending object and Peter's firm grip.

The sight was practically enough to make Peter salivate as he continued, pausing every now and then to rub his slick, sensitive tip with his thumb. Every bit of friction against the bundle of nerves at his head made Romano's legs twitch and his breath catch in his throat.

Eventually, Peter moved his other hand underneath his own slacks and past the waistband of his boxers, tugging on his own length. He couldn't help but reach down and touch himself at the sight of his boss, writhing and perspiring at his touch, muffling his carnal vocalizations of approval, which were beginning to increase in frequency with each quick stroke.

"Fuck. I love the noises you're making, Chief." Peter gasped as he rubbed his own member faster, already bringing himself close to the edge. He began to pant, mimicking his brisk movements with his other hand. Robert wasn't too far behind, gripping at the fabric of Peter's collar now, his hand clamping down tighter against his mouth, still utterly terrified of exposing their current position.

"Peter..." Robert whimpered around his hand. He was so close, he was beginning to shake, his legs trembling delightfully as Peter edged him closer and closer with each brush against the hypersensitive expanse of skin.

He stopped all of a sudden, though, gazing up into Robert's eyes. Peter's own dark globes shone intensely, a mischievous glint breaking through the lust and desire. Robert could tell the man was equally as close to his own climax as he was.

His hesitation was enough to drive him mad.

"Peter...please don't stop...I'm so close!" He whined, withdrawing his hand slightly, careful to utter his words quietly as to avoid drawing any extra attention to himself. Really, though, he just wanted to scream at the man, to be raking his nails across his back and sinking his teeth into his flesh, moaning and yelling for him to keep going until he came all over.

"Give it to me." Peter said simply, breathless from holding himself back from oblivion.


"You know what I mean," the other surgeon cut him off, his voice dipping down to that deliciously low tone that made those butterflies come right back to Robert's gut. "My old job. Give it to me. Or I swear to God, I'll walk right out of here. Whether I'm finished with you or not."

"I—I can't...ah!" He clasped his mouth with his hand once more as Peter brought his thumb down hard on the tip of his engorged prick, running it around the pink bundle of nerves as quickly as he could. The wave of pleasure wracked him to his core, and he couldn't help but let out a loud groan, one he hoped to God no one had picked up. It felt so good, it almost hurt.

"You can. It's called a compromise, Dr. Romano." He pressed down harder on his head, causing the man's eyes to slam shut.

"...a-alright. You've got your old job back...just—please, don't stop!" Robert begged as soon as his eyes opened again, giving up the everlasting fight between himself and his prized attending. Peter just looked up at him again, the very hint of a smile returning to his lips once more.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

His movements picked up as he moved his hand over his member again, and again, and again.

They came, one right after the other as Romano erupted into Peter's hand, his entire body tensing up before going slack again, pleasure seizing him from head to toe. Black patches clouded his vision, his intense orgasm making him go slightly blind. He struggled to catch his breath as he experienced the head rush of his fucking life.

As soon as his eyes cleared, Robert was met with the exquisite image of Peter lapping his hot white spent off his hand, the only other piece of physical evidence linked to their meeting being the telltale wet patch on his otherwise immaculate slacks.

"Fuck, Peter...whatever happened to that good little boy trying to defend Mr. Felcher?" Robert gasped, his chest still heaving. Peter rose from between his legs, kissing him hard on his swollen lips. He parted them, letting the man explore the rich terrain of his mouth once more, moaning softly as he tasted himself on him. He clutched the back of Peter's head for dear life as the kiss intensified, his subordinate taking away any of the breath he'd managed to steal back moments ago.

The kiss broke after a long while, and by now, Peter had stood back up, straightening himself out as if the only thing they'd been doing all this time really had been talking. Robert gazed at him, his head still spinning from the night's events, struggling to process the utter absurdity that, had anyone told him it'd end up happening to him even 20 minutes before, he'd laugh in their face.

Yet, here he was.

"I'll be expecting you in tomorrow at 7 a.m. sharp," Robert muttered, his voice quiet but authoritative as he tried to attest for any sort of normalcy to come out of their little meeting. "Same old hours. Same shifts. Same old schedule. With benefits. Those three weeks of pay, too."

"That's more like it..." Benton purred, vindictively patting Romano on the top of his big bald head.

"Honestly Peter, if you really wanted you old position that badly, all you had to do was ask!" Romano whined at the man, a wry smile making its way across his face. Benton shook his head, giving Romano a small grin of his own as he made his way toward the door. He'd since buttoned his coat, keeping the garment wrapped tightly around him to cover up the dark patch on his pants, but more importantly to keep anyone from asking what he'd been up to on that lovely Autumn night.

He turned back to face the man upon reaching the door, mischief shining in those cocoa colored eyes once more.

"That was fun. Let's do it again sometime."

"Just as long as we do it somewhere more private than my office, Dr. Benton." Robert yapped back, still not completely sure their meeting had fallen on deaf ears.

"I'll make sure you can't sit right for the next week afterwards, Dr. Romano." Peter retorted, his voice dropping back down again. Robert shuddered at the proposition in lewd anticipation.

And with that, Peter fled the scene of the crime, leaving Robert there with his stupid little per diem position, and questioning his feelings towards his not so good and pure subordinate...

And not to mention, unzipped pants.