The closing theme to 'Coronation Street' is just starting up and Quinn's already pulling me down on top of him, grinding his hips against mine suggestively and raising his head up for a snog. He licks my mouth and from the pressure and the insistence I can tell he means business—well, that and the fact that he's rock-hard against me before we've even started making out properly; he's horny as hell.
I hesitate a little before parting my lips—vigorous tongue-wrestling might not be the best idea right now—but he is dry-humping my leg rather fervently, so I relent. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and across my teeth and I freeze up and whimper a little.
He draws back, his eyes burning with desire, "Rob, what's wrong?"
"Just a bloody toothache," I try to grumble though in truth it sounds more like a pain-induced whine.
"Let me see. Open wide," he says sounding concerned.
"Hell no," I reply.
"Rob, come on," he sighs. "I've rammed my dick all the way down your throat. Do you think I'm going to see anything I haven't seen before? Besides, I'm a nurse."
Ah yes, that seems to be the panacea around here. Quinn's the nurse, therefore he's seen everything and can diagnose any illness on god's green earth, including cavities it would seem. Well, he does do quite well with body cavities, but... a surge of pain from my tooth thankfully distracts me from that line of thinking before I can take it into the realms of the truly bizarre and I snap, "yeah, you're a nurse, not a dentist."
"I can still see whether that tooth of yours looks horribly infected, can't I?" He comes right back at me. "Now be a good boy and open your goddamn mouth so's I can have a look."
I whine and bitch and moan some more but Quinn isn't going to budge on this one it seems, so I grudgingly open my mouth. He tilts my head towards the light and then he winces. "When's the last time you saw a dentist."
"Dunno," I mumble. "Hate dentists."
"Yeah, well, I think you ought to see one about that, it looks nasty," he shrugs. "Might even need a crown there."
"Fuck! That bad?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says. "Do you have a dentist or do you want me to call mine."
It's not as easy as that Quinn," I mutter. "There's not many dentists who'll put up with me. Haven't really had one I've seen more than once since I was a nipper."
"Scared?" He asks rubbing my shoulders.
"Try terrified," I sigh. "The dentist my mum took me to when I was a lad actually took me off his patients list when I was eight."
Quinn grins. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," I pout. "He just didn't like me is all."
"Oh Rob," Quinn sing-songs, "I can tell when you're fibbing."
He can too. It took him all of two months and he could tell whether I was telling the truth or not. It's outright hopeless by now. I'm not sure whether that's because I'm such a bad liar—and I know I am, I never got one over on mum either—or whether it's because Quinn's good at reading people. Whatever the case, he can tell. "Might have kinda sorta bit his hand," I mumble quite embarrassed.
"You bit your dentist?" Quinn chuckles.
"I was eight, alright? I was eight and absolutely terrified and he found a milk tooth what was loose and said, 'oh, this one's about to come out, hang on a sec,' and then he actually knocked it out without any painkillers or laughing gas or anything. So I bit his hand," I explain quite hotly. As far as I am concerned that dentist is wholly responsibly for my fear of dentists.
Quinn is stroking my shoulders again calming me a little. He waits until I start to untense and says, "I've got a good dentist Rob. He's good with people who're a little scared. I'll even come along to hold your hand if you want."
"You're absolutely sure I've got to see one?" I ask petulantly.
"Positive, or it'll only hurt more," Quinn replies.
"Oh well, in that case we had better start having lots of wild sex right now because you've got to get me up the duff," I pout.
Quinn looks at me as though I've grown another head—well, alright, that statement seems to indicate I've lost my marbles—and stammers, "yer what?"
"You heard me," I pout. I'm in an exceedingly bad mood. Never handled pain all that well and my tooth is absolutely killing me.
Quinn sighs dramatically. "I thought we'd covered this, but let me refresh your memory Rob. Thing is, when a boy and a girl are very much in love they get together and they make babies, but when a boy and a boy are very much in love they get together and merely bring the house down shagging. No babies."
"I know that nitwit," I say quite affectionately, "but the NHS only covers dental care for pregnant women and I've no money to pay a dentist as per usual, what with only working half-time and having to buy textbooks and all."
"I can pay for it," he offers.
"Don't want charity Quinn," I reply. "It's bad enough you're already paying more than your fair share while I'm wasting time on that stupid masters program, you don't have to start paying my personal expenses as well."
Quinn pulls my head down, carefully avoiding the side of my jaw with the throbbing tooth, until it is resting on his shoulder. He's running his hands up and down my back for the longest time without saying a word and I swear I'd have gone to sleep if it wasn't for the pain.
When I'm so boneless you could use me for a puppet he starts speaking softly. "First of all, that masters program isn't stupid Rob. I wanted you to do it; I want to be able to say, 'look, there's my lover, he's got a master of science in philosophy from the LSE,' and see them all turn green with envy. Secondly, if we're really going to be in this for keeps, you've got to start thinking like it; what's mine is yours and all that rot. I don't mind paying for your dentist or your bills or anything like that, because that's what couples do. Thirdly, I'm offering for my sake as much as yours in this case-"
"Yeah? How you figure that?" I interrupt.
I can feel him grinning against my temple. "Well, I don't think you'll be able to suck me off properly before that tooth is fixed and I'm rather fond of that mouth of yours these days."
I shiver a little at the thought. He's got a point, hasn't he? There's no way in hell I'd be making a proper job of it with a tooth that throbs at every touch. I make up my mind. "You're really going to hold my hand? Even if I squeeze real hard and curse you out like a sailor?"
"Yeah, I'll really hold your hand. No matter how contrary you are, I'll always hold you when you ask," he says softly and presses as kiss to my temple.
Maybe I'm not so scared of the dentist after all.
© KJB 2002-2003.