BTT x Reader | BloodXLust Vol II

Chapter Five | KissesXShowers

When our lips parted, Francis looked a little shocked, but the expression quickly melted into satisfaction and contentment.

Running his fingers through my hair, he leaned in and kissed me again, biting my lower lip. Too tired to fight and not really wanting to, I parted my lips to let him slip his tongue in.

His grip on my hair tightened, and he leaned into me. I held myself up with one hand and moved the other to grip the back of his head, my lips synchronizing with his, and he let out a low needy grunt and moved one of his knees between my legs.

I let out a soft growl, and his cheeks flushed, and he smirked into our kiss as he pushed me down into the mattress.

He moved his hand beneath my shirt, slowly stroking my chest before he grabbed one of my hands and moved it to his collar shirt. I began unbuttoning the shirt, and he took a quick breath as he removed his shirt and gave me a knowing look, pleading with his eyes for me to remove mine.

I complied and decided that I wasn't going to be getting any sleep anyway.

Francis grinned and unbuckled his jeans, and tossed his belt to the side. It landed on the wooden floor loudly, and as I reached to undo my own pants, he was already removing his boxers.

I could tell Francis genuinely wanted to have sex with me because he liked me, but I could also sense it was because he was in pain and in need of a distraction.

I saw the glint of pain in Francis's eyes and knew he wouldn't put up a fight if I tried to overthrow him this time, so I smirked and grabbed his arm and pulled him into the covers. I flipped one leg over his side and pinned him beneath me by his wrists.

He looked shocked, but after a moment, he smiled and looked at me lovingly.

I wasn't used to this expression from him...not this seriously.

I blushed and ignored it, avoiding his crystal eyes as I removed my remaining clothes.

As I tossed my boxers aside, Francis freed one of his wrists and cupped my face again, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

"Huh?" I asked him as he stared at me silently.

He chuckled and smiled up at me, "kiss me," he asked, and I blushed and nodded.

"Ja." I leaned down to kiss him and allowed him to keep one hand free which he dug into my hair as our tongues explored each other's mouths.

Francis let out a deep and deliberately loud moan.

I blushed and grit my teeth, "do you have to be so loud?" I asked, and he looked bewildered.

"Don't you like it when we're loud?" He asked. He was right, but now didn't seem like the right place.

"J-ja but not here?"

"Whether I whisper or shout, they'll 'ear us just the same," he countered, and I turned red and closed my eyes, thinking for a second.

"Hmmm...yeah, what the hell? I don't care; I'm going to make you scream," I decided with a smirk, and he gave me a devilish grin.

"We'll see who's screaming louder by the end of this."

"Is that a challenge?" I asked, raising one eyebrow.

He chuckled and nodded before pulling my face back down to his for another kiss.

In the course of an hour, we'd broken the bed, woken the neighborhood, and surprisingly hadn't gotten a noise complaint though the mood in the house seemed to be a mix of disgust and jealously.

Antonio, somehow, slept through all this. He wasn't used to being emotionally drained; for heaven's sake, he nearly tore the face of Ludwig's cousin for making an offhand remark that ___ being an assassin was kinda hot, and hell, I'd agree with him if it weren't for the psychological damage it was having on her.

I was too tired to pick up any of the mess we'd made up. Francis summoned the energy somehow and straightened up the room the best he could.

He mumbled under his breath, "how many beds am I going to 'ave to replace?"

I chuckled, "that's right...you and Toni broke the guest bed, didn't you?" I asked, and he nodded, a tired chuckle escaping his lips.

He walked into the guest bathroom and began running the water.

He looked through the guest drawers and found fresh robes supplied. This was common in a vampire's home. With sex being a near everyday occurrence and a big part of our culture, guest rooms were always supplied with new or—at the very least—clean changes of clothes.

Francis threw a new set of boxers and pajama pants at me and brought a change for himself into the bathroom that was already steaming up.

He poked his head out to look at me on the floor, "are you coming?"

I smirked at him, and he glared, "no, not like that. I'll close the door on you if you don't hurry up."

I groaned and pried myself off the floor. "Ja, ja, just a second."

I walked into the bathroom with the warm shower running and the fan off. I flipped the switch, and Francis looked at me disgruntled.

"Non, you know I don't like the noise the fan makes."

"And you know how much I hate wiping the water off the walls. Do you think my little bruder will like it any less?" This was more of a threat because Francis would never dare piss off Ludwig and begrudgingly agreed and left the switch alone.

Francis gestured for me to follow him into the shower and stepped out of the way to let the water rinse over my head and turn my spiky white hair into a wet gray mop.

Before I could rewatch for the shampoo, Francis was already massaging it into my hair.

"VIP treatment today?" I asked jokingly, and Francis nodded.

"You deserve it," he said lovingly.

I rolled my eyes and let him wash my hair in silence.

"My turn," he said cheerily and quickly turned around, waiting for me.

I sighed and poured the bottle over his head.

"Oi! That's way too much shampoo!" He complained.

"Why do you care? Our hair doesn't even get greasy, and dirt can't cling to it," I scoffed.

"Because it smells nice," he protested, and I sighed and scooped a handful of suds off the top of his head that hadn't already washed away.

He smiled and hummed patiently as I washed his hair. I hadn't washed someone's hair in a long time, not since helping care for my injured comrades when I was still human. The shampoo didn't work as well back then, and I almost shudder to think about what could be considered clean back in my childhood.

I finished washing his hair and stepped out of the shower to dry off. Francis stayed in a while longer as I finished getting ready for the night.

By the time I layer down in bed, the shower was still running, probably long out of hot water, but Francis remained in there alone with his thoughts, and I remained in the bed alone with mine.

I hate being alone with my thoughts.

I hate being alone at all.