"Are you really going to make me force feed you..?" He leaned in closer, voice a little raspy until you stopped budging from such close proximity. Despite the vehement efforts of his already bulging veins located on his muscles to relax, it seemed like there was no way to make you take the pill that was supposed to help you recover already. And him, as your appointed doctor that's supposed to ensure your medication is taken on time-- he needs a solution.

You could see his eyes narrow, his hands gripped tightly on your cheeks, as he prepared the spoonful of syrup medication, that he resorted to giving you instead of pills, because you.... You were just a handful in all honesty-- but alas, he had to look out for you.

"You make me have no choice.."

His hands moved to his side as he plopped down the spoon beside him, he huffed the words out in a rather condescending manner as he adjusted his sliver-framed glasses that were slipping off his nose due to your frequent shifting. You could notice the evident tension in his posture as he rolled up his polo's sleeves.

Probably because the irrational argument got to finally struck the wrong nerves; he's come up with a hypothesis to get you to do what the doctor prescribed.

A very questionable solution.

Without any hesitation, Zayne shoved the spoon with the medicine into his mouth in a swift movement and locked you in place. His large hand cupped your whole face as he pressed his mouth onto yours; the warm gooey liquid enveloping your mouth as your saliva mixed together in a mélange of sweet, sticky goodness. He swiped your tongues against each other, making sure you swallow every inch of the syrup-- even his own saliva. It was safe to say this was a bold move. But when it came to you, he had to do the craziest of things a normally stoic man would not do.