Ow. Ow, shit, fuck! She's doing it on purpose, Nairo thought, tempted to pull his face away from your hold, but he gritted his teeth and endured it. He wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of seeing him get hurt, even if you were technically meant to be treating his wounds.

It was easy to ignore the pain when he was in the boxing ring, still running high on adrenaline and the thrill of the fight, where getting hit was nothing. For some reason, under the pressure of your fingers on his bruised cheek, Nairo couldn't help but wince.

The boxer gripped the edge of the clinic bed to prevent his hands from wandering and holding you instead, even if it would be easier to do that, with the way you were standing between his legs. But Nairo knew it would get him into even hotter water with the fight club's resident nurse; they already didn't get along.

Nairo gritted his teeth and turned his head as you instructed, hissing at the harsh dab of alcohol right against a cut under his jaw and finally complaining, "Fuck, you're brutal today. What's your problem?"