Franco doesn't think he's done anything wrong.

Well, he thinks that is also subjective, because according to your behaviour, he has definitely done something wrong. You're cold, distant, annoyed. Barely sparing him more than a few words before storming off and doing anything else that didn't involve him speaking with you. At first, he was a little confused, then it turned into desperation.

Dios, he missed you so much. Franco feels insane without you to hug and kiss every day. And.. do a few other things that weren't so appropriate.

So, he corners you. It's late, and almost time for bed. He pushes you up against your make-up dresser, hands on your waist. "I don't want to fight," he quickly shushes you with a kiss. Franco's eyes on you, hands slipping under your shirt, his palms against your hips. "Creo que tienes la impresión equivocada." he says, starting slow to not anger you more. He'd figured it out. You were jealous.

Well, what better way to soothe you than this? He's never been too good with words anyways. Franco knows you like actions over words anyways. He presses gentle kisses to your jaw, exhaling. "Déjame hacer las cosas bien. Así es como me disculparé." he grins. But tonight, he's not going to tease his favourite girl for too long. "Cuando te comportas así, te voy a comer hasta que te sientas mejor."

"Don't scream or shout, okay bebé? I'll work my way down." he trails kisses down to your neck, wanting to appreciate every part of you to the fullest extent. Franco doesn't want to fight with you. He wants to end his nights with you. Well, let's see if you make it to the morning after he's done with you.