"What in the...?" A very surprised Mitch asked, eyes going wide when he saw what his boyfriend was doing. The washing machine door was ripped open, suds and water poured onto the light hardwood floor. Jerome was almost coated in pale pink bubbles, {the color most likely due to the blood} his dark mocha fur was matted and soaked along with his sweatpants. Jerome didn't notice the taller walk down, for he was way too focused on the task at hand. Violently tugging at his still bloodstained blazer, he growled.
"Where in the fuck are they!" Mitch knew that he was talking about his gloves. He tore at the pockets, growling deeper when they didn't appear. Mitch walked down the last step, feet immediately getting wet in the water and soap that coated the floor. Grimacing slightly, he trudged through the mess. Jerome had stopped clawing at the piece of black fabric, deciding to bury his damp face into the jacket. Mitch could hear a few sniffles and a soft sob or two. Mitch sighed, bare feet slushing through the washing machine contents. He knelt down next to his boyfriend, closing his eyes and shuddering when his knees came into contact with a slimy shirt.
"Babe...?" Lifting his face out of the fabric, now faded due to the bleach, he looked up at Mitch.
"I-I can't find-find them..." Jerome sobbed out, which, in turn caused him to drag his unsheathed claws against the wooden floor. Mitch grabbed onto Jerome's wrist.
"Listen I... I know that you're frustrated but, don't take it out on the floor." Mitch smiled gently, trailing his hand down to encase Jerome's paw in a loving embrace, a calming gesture. "It's already bad…" Normally that'd be something that would set Jerome off, either with anger or sorrow, but for some odd reason it made him laugh. He didn't like being put down, however it seems like this time Jerome could take it.
"Sorry 'bout the floor babe-" Jerome said, kissing the Canadian on the cheek. Mitch rolled his eyes at his boyfriend smiling like a madman. "-But, ya know… I could always make it up to you." Jerome tone came off as a bit seductive, obviously not calmed about what they did earlier. Mitch smirked inside himself. He knew that he could play dumb, but he was gonna see what he could get his boyfriend to say, and how dirty he would get.
"You could clean up YOUR mess, that'd make me happy." Squealing when Jerome grabbed both of his wrists, pushing him, back first into the soapy water. Jerome slipped a wet leg in between Mitch bare thighs, smirking when they parted almost involuntarily.
"Well, to be honest I was actually thinking that we... you know-" Jerome pushed the Canadian's wrists together so he could grab at them with a single massive paw which allowed Jerome to grip onto Mitch's thigh. He pushed his hips into his boyfriend's, drawing a soft and heavy gasp from his lungs. "-... we could make the floor a bit... dirtier, if you catch my drift~" He grinded his hips down harder, smirking as he saw Mitch tense and let out a hefty moan.
"Mmmm... As much as I'd love that... you have a floor to clean." Mitch smirked. "Then you can have your reward. ~" An animistic growl left Jerome's lips as Mitch pushed his wrists up and out of Jerome's grasp. This action caused Jerome to grab almost violently at Mitch's neck pushing down with force, cutting off his oxygen.
The bacca took this as a challenge. His constant need to be the top dog was actually just an instinctual thing, one of many Jerome would change about himself if he had the chance. Since Mitch somehow "challenged his dominance" he had to atone with this. Mitch gasped, hand going to pry the menacing paws of his throat. He was scared out of his god damn mind, almost paralyzed with fear. As one hand was prying at his boyfriend's wrist, the other cupped and dipped into the water. Splashing the water onto Jerome face, he stopped, letting go of Mitch's throat. He sat back on his calves and looked at Mitch.
He was panting, either filled with relief or trying to air into his lungs. His neck was black and blue, bruised littered by his heavy hold. Small pinpricks of scarlet blood lay where Jerome's claws were. Jerome felt horrible, he almost killed his boyfriend. "Mitchy….. I." Mitch rubbed at his neck with a steady palm while his other lifted him up.
"Just…. Please clean it up." Mitch smiled, gently at his boyfriend, cupping his cheek lovingly. Jerome's eyes went wide to the soft and sweet gesture, why wasn't Mitch mad at him?