Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Nope.”
“Are you being honest?”
“Of course, I am. I wouldn’t lie to you, Doc.” Quick’s voice was muffled by the thick cushions of his recliner, but the tone was suggestive. Cayson couldn’t have been imagining this, but he wouldn’t take the bait. He couldn’t trust Quick, he was confusing and unpredictable.
He moved up and around Quick’s spinal column with both hands, observing Quick for a painful reaction or sound. Instead, all that came were grunts of what sounded like pleasure. Cayson was nervous to even ask. What kind of exam was this? He should’ve been asking more questions, but goddamn Quick’s voice and that long expanse of beautiful tan skin along Quick’s back.
“Any soreness along your spine?”
“No. Just on my side.” Quick pointed right to the fractures.
“Yeah. You have a couple simple fractures, sometimes called hairline fractures, right there where you have your hand,” Cayson informed him.
“That’s explains why it hurts some when I take a deep breath,” Quick said.
“Yep. I know you’ve had them before, so you know the pain will subside with time. No additional treatment is necessary. But I’d say you’ve got about a good couple weeks of tenderness.” Cayson was still rubbing up and down Quick’s back while he spoke softly, carefully grazing over the bruises. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he heard Quick exhale slowly before moaning a rough, masculine sound. Pulling his hands away as if Quick had burst into flames, Cayson tapped him on the shoulder. “You can turn back over.”
Why’d he say that? When Quick was flat on his back again Cayson couldn’t’ve stopped the gasp if he’d been forewarned. Quick was full-on hard. His cock spiking a massive teepee in his pajama pants. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why was this happening to him? He was trying so hard to be professional. This shit had to be a joke, but he wasn’t laughing. He stood all the way up and tossed his few tools back inside his bag. Swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth, and fighting his wood again, he couldn’t help but chance another inconspicuous look at… at… Oh, god. There was plenty of hair around that hard cock. He could see it as clear as those X-ray images. Quick had to be at least eight or nine inches of mouthwatering firmness. Cayson’s hole clenched with need. He needed all that firmness pushed deep in his—
“As you can see, the equipment still works fine,” Quick whispered, winking at him as he uselessly pushed his hand on his own cock in an effort to force it down… but it didn’t work. It kept springing back up like a proud soldier.
“Fuck you,” Cayson murmured, confident he wasn’t heard since his back was still to Quick as he closed up his bag. He saw the syringes and knew he still needed to take a couple vials of blood to test that all Quick’s organs were functioning fine, but he was actually fighting doing the right thing. He wanted to say screw it and leave Quick to be responsible for his own health care. Cayson always had everyone else’s best interest at heart, constantly neglecting his own. It was his life story.
His whole life, people made him the brunt of very bad jokes and pranks, but this took the title by far. He was here as a favor. Taking time out of his life – never mind that it was boring as fuck – to do an exam for free outside of his work hours, and this is how they treated him. It was such an unoriginal storyline. Straight hunk tempts the lonely gay man into confessing his feelings, only to take offense to it right after. Classic one. Ignoring the rising anger inside him at his own inability to even come close to compromising his oath, he took out the tourniquet, syringe, an antiseptic wipe, and two vials. Putting another pair of gloves on, cursing himself for touching Quick’s bare skin in the first place, he knelt down next to Quick’s still-reclined chair, doing everything in his power to avoid the large tent in the room.
“You gonna stick me with that? Will it hurt?” Quick asked, amused, but Cayson failed to see the humor.
Keeping his eyes downcast, his cheeks burned with humiliation. His cock was still half-hard, despite his irritation, and that made him angrier still. As he fought his most basic desires, tiny beads of sweat began to pop up on the back of his neck, dampening his hairline, before they ran down his spine, causing him to squirm uncomfortably. He saw Quick push at his own dick again, drawing Cayson’s attention to the action. Couldn’t have been Cayson making him so aroused.
He hurriedly tied the tourniquet and wiped the alcohol pad across the crease in the middle of Quick’s arm. He opened the needle – and like always – took a calming breath before he stuck his patient. He wouldn’t be an ass and stick him hard, when Cayson knew how to do it without the patient feeling the slightest pinch. Instead, he angled the syringe like he’d been taught during his pediatric internship and gently pushed the tip, easily breaking the skin and entering the vein.