I tilt my head back, open wide, but the blood starts to drain down my throat. The second he leans in, I start to choke, cough, and then—splat.
A spray of blood shoots forward, covering his face and chest in crimson freckles.
He freezes, blinking at me through the mess.
And I laugh. Oh God, I laugh so hard I can’t breathe, clutching the pillowcase back over my mouth, shaking with it.
“Stop. Laughing!” he yells, swiping at his face, which only smears the blood worse.
“You’re turning my bedroom into a Quentin Tarantino set!”
I can’t stop. Physically, absolutely cannot stop laughing.
“Unfuckingbelievable,” he mutters.
The knock on the front door interrupts him.
“Leopold?” Lois’s voice filters through. “I’ve been hearing very loud noises. At first they sounded… enthusiastic, but now they sound angry? Or… afraid? Are you all right in there?”
Leo’s head whips toward the sound, naked, bloody, and panicked.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, blood dripping down his collarbone. “Does she sit by my front door and eavesdrop?”
“Lois! We’re fine!” he yells back, frantic.
A pause. Then: “Leopold, you sound upset. I’m coming in.”
“What? No—Lois, do NOT come in here!”
His voice cracks in a way I’ve never heard before.
“I already told you, dear,” she says calmly, keys jingling. “I’ve seen everything before. Nothing will surprise me.”
The master bedroom only has a sliding barn door for ‘privacy,’ so he doesn’t even attempt to shut it.
Knowing resistance is futile, Leo lets out a string of curses. He grabs a pillow and slams it over his junk, then tosses another at me. I clutch it to my chest, still completely naked, blood-smeared, and shaking with laughter.
The doorknob turns. The door swings open. Light, childlike footsteps pad down the hall.
And in walks the most adorable four-foot-ten (on a good day), blue-eyed old woman—dressed in a bathrobe, fluffy bunny slippers, and a neon orange hunting balaclava—with a shotgun cocked against her shoulder.
I swear on my life, you cannot make this shit up.
Lois pauses just long enough to take in the scene: blood splattered literally everywhere, Leo clutching a pillow to his groin, meholding one across my chest, and a bloody pillowcase stuffed between my teeth.
She blinks. Lowers the gun. Then nods.
“Blood play? Kinky.”
Leo thumps his head against the wall and groans. I’m laughing so hard I’m crying, still biting down on the fabric.
Lois is completely unfazed. Not one bit.
“I’m glad no one is trying to murder you, Leopold.” She peels off the balaclava, her wispy white curls sticking up every which way with static.
“But listen here, kids,” she continues, tone serious. “You have to be careful with these kinks, or things can get out of hand quickly.”
She clucks her tongue, entirely unbothered. “As you experienced tonight.”
