He was glad he had gotten away just a smidge, bullets rushing past him, but you didn't. Now he was running back to the shady inn he had booked hastily last night carrying you in his arms while you bled out, cut and bruised. Jay never got too nervous over anyone he had met over just a few months, but who wouldn't care for you? You were everything. Now he has you sitting on the table, shirt off while he grabbed supplies. Thankfully the bullet went through, he didn't detect any ruptures or anything serious, but the way the wound in your abdomen bled out quickly made him work double time. Your groans of pain make him fall into a tense headspace. Everything passes in a blur, both for you and him, the only thing you could recall were his whispers of 'You're okay, baby' and his soft shushes, not wanting you to alarm anyone and have them knocking on the door. Now here you were, being caressed oh, so gently by him. Jay's hands had cleaned you up and taken care of you, his touch now familiar to you. His lips ran over your collarbone, he was becoming desperate, he could have lost you. "I don't want you ever doing that again. If I get shot, then I do." He huffed, his lips never parting from your heated skin.