Mr. Perfect Lips

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Does the GIF give it away ;)

Okay maybe the title too.. Enjoy!


   In half an hour I've been carried, man handle and taken care of. I couldn't believe I was here twice in a day, which must be some kind of record.

From what I heard, Jesse Blue loves to play with girls, especially models from Victoria Secret. There was no surprise there. I mean look at him. . He's the no attached kind of guy, and that was part of the reason why I didn't want anything to do with him.

He put me down on his bed carefully, like I am a fragile glass. He walked out of the room and came back with a red bag. I knew instantly that it was first aid kit.

"I am fine, your hand though" I touch his fist lightly, brushing over it.

He followed my adjusting eyes and looked at his fist that had turned red from the beating. I could see scratch marks on his arm and a blue bruise on his cheeks. I didn't even see him getting punch.

"I am fine," he shrugs as if he didn't feel a single pain. He walked to the bathroom and came out with a bowl filled with water, and then he sat next to me on the bed and began to open the square bag. His eyes focusing on the task at hand.

He is awfully quiet. I didn't know if that bothers me more than hearing his stupid remarks.

He scanned my face, spreading his thumb on the corner of my lips and wiped the blood that I didn't know existed.

"Can you for once listen to me, then maybe this wouldn't happen," He said softly. There was no hint of anger in his voice, but deep down I could tell he was furious. 

I was flattered by his gesture. Deep down I could feel the warmth of being taken care of, something that I was unfamiliar with. I suddenly could feel the tension in the room as if force attracts the both of us like magnets. I tried to ignore it, but it wasn't really helping in anyway.

He held my face, caressing my cheeks softly and I'm pretty sure I was blushing somewhere in those moment. 

"Beautiful," he whisper, not quite sure if it was to himself or to me. Nonetheless I have heard it, and trust me when a hot man calls you that, you got to be swarming in feelings of emotion.

I looked down at my tangled hands, not being able to meet his stare. My hair hopefully, covered those tainted blushed cheeks. 

"Look up," he orders. I did and he wipes something on the corner on my lips with a cloth, "There, finished."

"Thank You." I silently say.

I grabbed the cloth from him almost immediately and washed it over the bowl. Compressing it, I took his left hand first and began to wipe all trace of blood away; I did the same to the right side of his bruised cheek.

"It's fine, I can do it myself," he said, amused by my attempt. He doesn't like to be help does he? He thinks he's so strong that he could just handle everything by himself. Typical dominating man.

I didn't reply to his order, because frankly I do not take orders from nobody.

Now that the marks and bruises were visible, I swap his fist and cheek with alcohol. He winces as he struggled not to flinch. See! It does hurt, acting all tough just doesn't work with me Mr. I'm fine-I don't need you help.

I took a bandage and began to wrap it around his injured fist. "You can go to the doctor and get this wrap properly, this will do for now."

He kept his gaze on me, those blue orbs watching me intensely. If he were not attractive, surely I would be creep out at the moment. But I only felt hot, as he continues his staring session.

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