Chapter Text
If Mel had to summarize the day in one word, it would be unpredictable.
Their spontaneous Badlands adventure? Cut short —hell, there was nothing to cut— due to the weather. The same dreadful, Midwestern beatings from the sky that caused them to detour yet again on the border of Minnesota and Wisconsin. Like all superstition, this theme finalized into a third instance; Langdon, draped over her hotel bed.
It had taken some time to get him there. Mel had showered and fingered her hair into a French braid while she talked to her family. Thankfully, there hadn’t been much to update her on. Mel could see the fatigue in her mother’s eyes as they both let Becca take over the conversation. She knew better not to comment on it, but it didn’t make the ache in her gut drum any less loudly.
“I’m sorry, I’ll probably end up being a day later,” Mel explained after filling the women in on her day. Both women were understanding. From her three and a half years of pre-med education mixed with sleepless nights researching her mom’s condition, Mel knew there was nothing she could do between the twenty four hours she added to the trip.
She felt too guilty to mention her and Langdon’s planned hooky day in Chicago the following day. The feeling felt twisted, a mix of relishing in the selfishness of her decision versus the need to be home. She never felt anything stronger than her prioritization for her family. Until Langdon.
Langdon, who had chosen to text her only fifty three minutes after parting ways. Mel had texted herself from his phone with the photos from earlier.
Langdon: hey. you busy?
Her heart raced at seeing his name pop up, and she was almost too nervous to text him back. She laid back on the quilted bed, adrenaline running through her arms.
Mel: Just finishing up a call with my mom and Becca.
Langdon: i have something for you. can i come by?
Mel: Sure. I’m in my pjs though.
Langdon: me too. dont worry, won’t be long.
Mel ran to the mirror in the en suite bathroom, tucking stray hairs from her braid behind her ears and readjusting the ties on her hoodie. She felt clean but plain. She always considered herself to be a nervous person, but Langdon made her feel it in a different way. Nervous to be enough for him. Anxious for him to like her as much as she liked him.
Mel: Room is 306.
Langdon: i remember.
Mel took a moment to scan the small suite. She smoothed over the bedspread and fluffed the flat pillows and shoved her open duffel into the small closet near the door. Thankfully, she hadn’t had enough time to dirty the room yet. She wondered if she should turn on the small TV on top of the dresser for some ambiance.
She didn’t have time to make a decision before a sharp knock made her jump.
Langdon stood in the tiny doorway, letting the yellowing beige light pool into the lamp-lit room. He clearly had showered too, his hair damp and pushed back. Dressed similarly to Mel, he wore his now-familiar University of Washington sweatshirt and black athletic shorts. In his hands was a plastic bag, the colors from inside visible through the pale white.
“Hey,” he greeted with that same warm smile that made Mel want to melt. “I brought you a surprise,” he said, lifting up the bag for proof.
Mel returned the smile, opening the door wider to let him in. “Welcome to my humble abode,” she tried to joke, but her voice came out wobbly and the syllables clanky. She winced internally as he walked inside past her.
“Nice digs, King,” Langdon looked around the small space. “Really love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Oh, I haven’t really done anything. Is yours not the same?” Mel’s eyebrows furrowed as she shut the heavy door carefully to not slam it. She hated when people let the doors slam.
Langdon raised his eyebrows until she sighed in understanding. “Right. Joke.”
“Wanna see what I brought you?”
Mel nodded and sat politely on the edge of the bed. Langdon dumped the bag’s contents onto the dresser. “So, I went a little crazy inside that gas station. I couldn’t stop thinking that you didn’t celebrate your birthday this year, and wanted to make it up to you.”
Mel squeezed her hands together to force herself not to jump up and hug him.
“I asked, but they didn’t have any cake. Can you believe there’s not a full service bakery in an Arco on the side of the road in bumfuck Wisconsin?” Langdon continued, organizing his wares with his back to her, but continuing to strain his neck to look at her.
Mel giggled, fully basking in the attention and leaning back on her arms, legs swinging. “You don’t even know if I like cake.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck. Well, no cake. But I did get the next best things,” Langdon scooped up three items in his arms and turned his body back to her. “Powdered Donettes. Absolutely no real food inside those things except for crack,” he began, tossing the cylindrical package onto Mel’s lap.
“I do love these,” Mel confirmed with a grin, holding the gift like it was made of gold.
“Score. Secondly, some Oreos. A classic, obviously. If you don’t like Oreos, I think I’ll have to find someone else to hitchhike with,” Langdon continued with another toss.
Mel let them fall into her lap. “Well, you don’t need to do all that. I like Oreos, too.”
“Lastly, some Pop-Tarts. I won’t lie, this one was a little selfish, since they remind me of my childhood. But they come in a pack of two, and I’m not opposed to sharing,” Langdon concluded with a closed smile and eyes sparkling.
Mel let herself take the moment in, imaging the two of them just like this, filtering them out to a different environment. If they only had met earlier, they could be eating shitty gas station snacks in her old college apartment instead of this Sheraton Inn. If her mom wasn’t sick, they could be lounging in their sweats, helping each other study for the MCAT and apply for medical schools.
If this was all she was going to get of him, of the joy she felt with him, she would cling to it for the night.
“Thank you,” Mel said, hoping her appreciation would show through the two words.
Langdon sat next to her, the mattress diveting to let their thighs touch. His body was so warm.. Now that he was closer, she could smell his aftershave, simple and masculine. Mel wanted to bury her face in the nook between his shoulder and chest. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, pulling out a plain black lighter from the center pocket of his sweatshirt. “You have to make a wish.”
Mel’s fingers shook as she opened the donuts, picking one up and raising it between her and Langdon. “Happy birthday, Mel,” he said lowly, eyes boring into hers. He clicked the lighter, letting the small flame illuminate mere centimeters from the pastry.
Mel took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and blew out the flame.
“Best birthday ever?” Langdon asked humorously, clicking shut the lighter and dispositing it back in his pocket.
Mel nodded enthusiastically to make up for the fact that her mouth was full of half the donut. “Totally,” she choked out. “Thanks, Langdon. You didn’t have to do all this.”
Langdon clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Nah, it was no big deal. I wanted to.”
Mel smiled, and offered him the opened package. Long fingers grabbed one and popped the whole thing in his mouth. Mel giggled, following suit and putting the rest of hers through her lips.
As tidy as they tried to be, powdered flecks fell on their laps and covered their fingertips. And on Langdon’s face, just a hint to the left of the divet in his chin. “You have a little—” Mel trailed off, fingers coming up to the mirrored place on her own face where the powder dust had landed while Langdon was still chewing.
“Hmm?” Langdon questioned, going to the opposite area and wiping with the back of his knuckle.
“Uh, not quite,” she replied, and before her brain could catch up with her arm, raised her hand to his face. “Can I?” she asked, voice quieting and eyes fluttering over his face and chest. She was shocked how still her fingers were.
Langdon nodded, leaning his face into her fingers, eyes wide. His eyes were so blue. Mel could hardly stand to look into them. She busied her gaze instead on the white stain, digging her thumb in softly and rubbing it off. Selfishly, she let herself go further in, running over his chin softly.
She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she locked her gaze with him. Her heart felt like it was beating two hundred times a minute. Is this what people mean when they talk about butterflies? Her mind and body had an internal tug of war—the rational side screaming to drop her hand, scoot back so the heat from his body wouldn’t affect her so much, versus her body, feeling like if she moved an inch away from him she’d collapse. Her tongue darted out quickly over her bottom lip, thumb putting pressure on the divet in his chin. Her eyes followed suit, looking down at his parted lips.
Body wins.
She brought her eyes back up to his just a second later, but the damn was already broken. She knew he was going to kiss her. Somehow, that made her nerves feel even more alive, her body a live wire.
“Mel,” Langdon breathed out, breath hot near her fingers. Bravely, her thumb moved and repositioned her hand to cup his jaw.
Mel couldn’t move. She knew her own breathing was erratic, chest heaving under her shirt. Her eyes were wide, full of desire and cowardice and anxiety and want.
“I—,” she croaked out before Langdon lunged forward like a gunshot, pressing his lips into hers for a harsh kiss. Mel had enough brain power to shut her eyes and adjust his cheek to deepen it, body running on instinct and hunger. Langdon brought his hand up to where hers was, settling her against him.
Mel had almost forgotten how good it felt to be kissed. Her nerves had silenced into a muted adrenaline, and she let her thoughts focus solely in the moment. His kiss was as aggressive and dynamic as him, switching from closed-lipped conservative pecks to a languid pace, letting his mouth linger on hers between kisses. It wasn’t practiced, like he was just as nervous as her.
Suddenly, he pulled her hand away from his face, moving his head back. He took a deep breath, hands settling on his own lap. She looked back at him, her hand already cooling down.
“Are you okay, Langdon?” she asked, wincing at the sound of her voice, throaty and breathy. Oh God. Was he regretting it? Did he just do it because he felt bad for her? Sorry that she had no friends, no prospects, no future? Sorry that her best birthday was spent with a stranger eating Hostess snacks?
Her fingers wrung at each other like her left and right hand were going into battle. “It’s okay. We don’t have to—”
“I’m sorry, Mel,” Langdon sighed, looking back at her.
Mel nodded in acknowledgement, throat tightening with the familiar feeling of tears on the horizon. She bit her lip and swallowed roughly, looking away so he couldn’t see her cry.
“Oh fuck,” she heard Langdon say over her shoulder, putting a hand on her upper knee. “Oh, Mel, don’t cry. Please.”
“‘M fine,” Mel said, more to herself than him. She couldn’t bear to face him.
“No, no, no,” he chanted, leaning over. “Mel, look at me, please.”
Hopeless to say no, she slowly rotated her body and face back to him.
“It’s okay. I don’t mean to cry,” she babbled out quickly. “I know you kissed me because you felt bad for me.” She felt like a Make-a-Wish kid, or like Ashton Kutcher was going to pop out and tell her she was on Prank’d.
“What?” Langdon looked exasperated. “Oh God, no, Mel. I kissed you because I wanted to.”
Mel shot her eyes from her lap to his face. “What?”
“I wanted to kiss you. Hell, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since that night in Montana,” Langdon started, barely giving Mel time to process. “I just…I know you’re going through a lot right now. And I have a lot of my own baggage I have to deal with right now. It was selfish of me,” he spoke, each sentence feeling like concrete out of his mouth.
Mel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and she readjusted her glasses to where they fell down the bridge of her nose. He wanted to kiss me…since Montana? What? “I wanted it, too,” she felt herself croak out. “You’re right. I have a lot to deal with. But I just thought…,” Mel trailed off, thinking of how to word her frantic thoughts. Can’t we just have these four days? “You make me want to be a little selfish, too.”
Langdon sighed heavily and gave her an empathetic, small smile. “You deserve a lot better than this. I’m not the kind of guy who can give you what you need right now,” he said.
“What kind of guy are you, then?” Mel asked, confusion switching to irritation. Was this his way of letting her down easy? The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ strategy that she’d seen time and time again watching sitcoms with Becca?
Langdon chuckled and threw his face to look at the ceiling. She could see him swallow down the smooth, long line of his throat. It was tortuous waiting for him to answer.
“You wanna know what kind of guy I am?” Langdon asked, more of a statement than a question. “I just got out of rehab, like, two weeks ago. Benzos. That’s why I’m not in med school. And I’m still so fucking insecure about it that my friend Cassie got worried about me, so she suggested I find a way to meet up with her and that’s why I’m going to New York. To voluntarily be babysat because I can’t handle sobriety on my own.”
It was like a bomb had been dropped on the third floor of the random hotel in the middle of Wisconsin. Mel could only sit with mouth agape, fingers stilling against her lap.
“I just didn’t expect to be driving with you,” Langdon kept going like the words couldn’t help but pour out of his mouth. “You’re so…kind and honest and lovely and didn’t know anything about me. And then you told me about your mom, and Becca, and I just feel so fucking guilty. That I had a perfect lane to our dream career and fucked it up all on my own. It’s not fair to you,” Langdon finally looked back at Mel, eyes filled with desperation and anxiety.
“You can’t compare our situations, that’s not fair,” Mel said, concern written all over her face. “Different things can be sad, not just the big ones.” She couldn’t bear to say the D word. “Addiction is a disease, we both know that,” she continued. “I’m glad you told me. I won’t judge you.”
Langdon smiled sadly, lips quivering. “Trust me, I’m not special. You don’t need to hear my sob stories.”
“I wanna know everything about you.”
That’s how they ended sprawled on the bed, Mel sitting against the headboard with her legs crossed. Langdon laid his long body diagonally, toes touching the bottom corner of the bed, head propped up by a bent arm. The snacks lay scattered between them, crumbs sprinkling the duvet cover. Mel couldn’t find the energy to care to brush them off, focused on listening to everything and anything Langdon told her.
He opened up pretty quickly—“Rehab kinda forces you to become confrontational,” he’d said. Mel nibbled at a Pop-Tart, soaking him up like a sponge. He told her about how he started, his parents moving and the tweak in his back that escalated to chronic pain. How it was originally as routine as prescriptions, and the false self-promises of always one away from weaning himself off. That it slowly took over as the most important thing for him.
“I was running on such a high, I can’t believe I graduated,” Langdon said, picking at a loose thread down Mel’s sweatpant. “My parents came out for my graduation, and I think it just was so obvious to them. It took another two months to get me to get help.
“After I got out, I didn’t know what the fuck to do. I missed the holidays, and you know as well as me that Seattle in January is practically designed to make you wanna curl up in a ball and die. Parker let me move back in, until even she had enough of my moping. That’s when Cassie reached out to me and suggested a change of scenery.”
“What are you gonna do there?” Mel asked, eyes glued to where his fingers were connected to her fabric.
“No idea. I don’t know, Cassie’s known for being a little…preachy. I’m sure she’ll wax poetic to me until I can’t handle it anymore and find another place to couch surf.”
“What about studying for the MCAT? That’s a good distraction. That’s definitely not a waste of time,” Mel suggested, lowering a hand to run through his hair, still damp from his shower.
Langdon laid quietly for a minute, and Mel relished in the sweet silence. He let his fingers run over her clothed shin as hers continued combing through his thick mane. “I don’t know if I’m even capable of being a doctor anymore,” he whispered so softly Mel could barely make it out.
“Of course you are,” Mel matched his quiet pitch. “I know I’ve only known you for three days, but I can tell. Doctors are notoriously the worst patients. If you’re strong enough to get yourself help from a disease, you can cure anyone.”
Langdon smiled limply, giving her leg a squeeze. “Where the hell did you come from, Melissa King?”
She ignored the way her name off his lips mixed with his hand like a brand on her shin made a warmth spill out from her stomach down, down, down. “How did you know my full name is Melissa?”
He smiled big now, teeth peeking out. “Lucky guess.”
“Wait, what’s your name?” Mel asked, realization spelled out all over her face. “I’m assuming Langdon is your last name? Or a nickname?”
He let his head drop and touch the duvet. The snacks crinkled with his moment. “Oh god, you don’t wanna know. It’s horrible. There’s a reason why I go by my last name.”
Mel laughed, the sound bringing levity to the thick air. “Please tell me. I won’t laugh, I promise.”
Langdon shook his head. Mel let her fingers grasp a chunk of his hair and pulled lightly. He raised his head immediately.
“Please?” she asked, softer now, brown eyes looking into icy blue ones.
“It’s Frank,” he answered like he was admitting to a crime.
Mel let out a quick exhale. “Oh, that’s not bad at all. I thought you were gonna say, like, Bartholomew or something,” she smiled.
He laughed, letting the weight of his head fall into her spread out fingers. His hand went up to her lower thigh, rubbing soft circles. “You can call me Frank. Or Bartholomew. Or whatever you want.”
“I like Frank,” she gave him a toothy grin.
Langdon—Frank—kept talking. Mel listened. She knew it was cathartic, to let everything out in a place that wasn’t as clinical as a rehabilitation center. It didn’t feel like a chore, to take care of him.
Mel had always been smart, had certain subjects in school that attracted her more than others; science, history. Frank was her new favorite. She wanted him to tell her everything, to be able to write a memoir about his life by the time the sun came up that morning.
Eventually, they pushed aside the litter from their snacks and wiped away the crumbs. Mel stood up to toss the remnants in the trash. She could hear Langdon moving, the bed creaking with his weight. Mel looked at the clock. 11:42.
“It’s getting late. We have to drive tomorrow,” Mel said delicately, not wanting to break the bubble.
Frank stood up, his wrinkled sweatshirt and vulnerable face making him look younger than he was. “Yeah. Thanks, Mel. You’re a great listener.”
“I like listening to you,” Mel replied, mustering up the courage to ask him to stay. The rational part of her brain knew that they needed sleep—driving tired is just as dangerous as driving drunk— but she didn’t want to be left alone. Now that she knew how wonderful it felt to have someone so close, someone to care and to care for, it felt insane to let him slip.
“Me, too,” Frank smiled, not moving from his spot next to the bed.
“Would you—I mean, if you want…,” Mel stammered, fingers habitually going back to pull on her knuckles. “You can stay. With me. If you want.”
Frank smiled boyishly. “Yeah?”
Mel nodded a bit too enthusiastically.
After they both brushed their teeth (Mel’s insistence, especially after eating all that sugar. She let Frank use the spare one she always packed in her toiletry bag), they took to separate sides of the bed.
As Mel carefully untucked the bed and smoothed out her pillows, Frank stood awkwardly, looking between her and his own side.
“You okay?” Mel asked, shimmying herself down to lay properly.
“This is gonna make me sound like a complete douche,” Frank started. “But, uh, I get kinda hot. And I can’t sleep in this sweatshirt. I can get a shirt from my room, if you’re not comfortab—”
“You can take it off,” Mel inhaled, licking her bottom lip.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Mel replied patiently.
She let herself stare at him as he tore off the sweatshirt with one arm, bunching it up from his back until he flew over his head. He was pale and lean, obviously, due to rehab and a particularly dark Washington winter. Mel raked her eyes over his chest as politely as she could, pleasantly surprised to find a thick covering of dark, coarse hair covering his chest, thinning as it went down to the low rise of his sweatpants. Her hands yearned to map it.
Oh, God. I’m in trouble.
He pulled back the side of his duvet, turning off the nightstand lamp. They turned to face each other, shuffling until they were parallel. Her eyes adjusted quickly, the arm of her glasses digging into her cheek.
“You sleep with those on?” Frank asked without a hint of sarcasm. Mel wanted to kiss him again.
“No,” Mel said. “I just want to be able to see you.”
“Take them off,” Frank said lowly. Mel followed, twisting her body to lay them on the nightstand. “Can you see me now?” he asked, scooting a hair closer to her side.
She could. “No.”
Another scoot, his head landing in the crack between their pillows. His hair flopped on his forehead. “How about now?”
“No.”
She could feel his knees knocking hers, gently forcing one of his legs to go between hers. He was so close now, she could see the small freckles dotting the top of his chest. Her arms were as heavy as lead, locked together at her chest.
“Now?” he whispered, lips inches away from hers.
“I’m beginning to make a few things out.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” He held up four fingers. Mel burned at the sight of them, long and strong and much bigger than her own. How she wanted them to touch her face, down to her neck, chest, and further down to the incessant heat at her core.
“Four,” she answered.
“Good girl,” he smiled wickedly, using those beautiful fingers to cradle the side of her face, from jaw to hairline.
It was Mel’s turn to close the gap. She surged forward, catching his lips just as eager as hers. He let her lead, every kiss causing them to melt further into each other. Mel brought a hand up to his bare chest—how was he still so warm?— and let her hand splay out, scratching through the skin.
She gasped at the contact, allowing Frank to use his hand to maneuver her head when he wanted her. He slipped a tongue over her bottom lip, encouraging her to open up for him. She allowed him to deepen their kissing. Every touch of their tongues made her whimper, that low hum of desire revving up to a noisier level.
He used his other arm to wrap around her waist and pressed her firmly chest to chest. Mel moaned at the feel of him so close. It felt almost animalistic, the want she had for him. It was as if her brain had turned off all unnecessary function and could only scream for more of him, touching her everywhere forever.
“Frank,” she sighed as he moved his mouth from her lips to pepper wet, open kisses from her cheek to her jaw to the sensitive part of her neck. She moved her hand to his hair like an anchor.
He groaned in response, pulling them even closer so she could feel all of him, half hard against her lower stomach. Mel felt a surge of want run through her cunt.
“Yeah,” he said as if he could read her mind. He pulled his leg tighter between her legs, starting a rhythm against the heat of her. “Please,” he encouraged.
He sounded so tender that the first grind of her hips came almost subconsciously. The feeling was so delicious, the firm press of him making her practically feral. His hand moved to tease the skin just below her shirt. She met him there, clawing at the fabric to bring it higher until it was over her head.
Mel had always viewed sexual pleasure in a clinical manner. She studied it, understood its function. She’d even dabbled in it herself, more out of curiosity than a desire, never really feeling the feeling that every person and piece of media propagandized to her. If she could only go back in time and tell herself she would finally feel it for herself, with a man she’d met only three days earlier, in the middle of a snowstorm.
Frank made her understand what everyone had always talked about in the books and the wedding vows and the sweeping gestures. The immediate connection, the way she knew she’d never get bored of him. She would take everything he was willing to give her.
He adjusted their position, pulling her back flush against the mattress. His mouth went back down to her chest, licking and sucking her collarbone and the curve of her breast.
“You’re so gorgeous,” Frank murmured against her skin, dragging his thigh between her legs.
Mel’s hands were everywhere, from raking through the hair on his chest, to rubbing his shoulders, to pressing firmly on his vertebrae. He was so hot, a thin veil of sweat starting to cover him. She could die just like this, grinding against his leg, their skin touching more than not. She felt how damp her underwear was getting under her sweats, which only made her feel hotter.
His mouth went lower to kiss and lick over the top of her bralette, lips closing over a clothed nipple. “Oh my god,” she gasped, hands running up the nape of his neck to his hair. She could feel him exhale against her as he brought his other hand to her other breast, copying his ministrations.
“Can I take this off?” he muttered, lips still attached to her.
Mel nodded, breath heavy as she quickly tossed it over her body and onto the floor. She had a fleeting thought to be nervous as she laid back down.
Frank lifted himself up to stare at her naked chest, breathing just as heavy as her. “Holy shit. Mel, you’re just—” he started, until Mel brought him back down to her with both arms into a searing kiss.
If she had any other brain power, Mel would think about how Frank had become such a good kisser. He kissed her with such passionate firmness, every graze of their lips intentional and wanted.
“You feel so good,” Mel moaned as they broke apart. She loved the feeling of their bare chests together. “I love this,” she couldn’t help but spill honestly.
“Oh, Mel,” Frank groaned, moving back to properly kiss her chest. “Me, too, baby. I could just kiss every inch of you.”
“Please, Frank,” Mel sighed, fingers tightening in his hair. She jolted as he kissed her nipple, tight from his attention.
“You’re so sensitive. I love it,” he murmured, bringing up his hand to pinch and twist the other nipple.
Mel whimpered, back arching as she pressed her chest into him. “It feels so good. Please don’t stop.”
Below, she could feel him rutting against her thigh, his length fully hard and tenting his sweatpants. The feel of him, knowing that just kissing her tits made him so pent up, sent a gush of wetness through her cunt. She didn’t know she could feel so good.
He moved his head down, kissing down her stomach, hands tugging softly on the hem of her pajamas. “Can I?” he asked again.
Frank looked up at her, eyes blown dark and hair tangled. His mouth was open, breathing deep. The low light from the streetlights light up his face in a cool glow. Mel had never seen anything so beautiful before. Voice gone, she nodded in approval.
He slowly lowered the thick fabric down her legs, losing one of her socks in the shuffle. The sheets were all the way down the bed, tangling in on themselves. Mel couldn’t find it in herself to care, especially with Frank on his knees at the end of the bed, using his hands to spread apart her knees.
“This okay?” he checked in, subconsciously licking his lips as he gazed down her body.
“Please,” she affirmed, widening out her legs even further for him to fall between.
He adjusted, laying on his front as he kissed up from her left knee, to her thigh, to the crease between it and her pussy. He let out a breath over her core, and she knew there was a dark, damp spot against the center of her underwear. Just as she was preparing herself to feel his mouth on her, he moved down to her left knee, mirroring his actions.
“Has anyone done this to you before?” he asked, sucking a spot in the center of her thigh.
“Oh,” Mel gasped at the tight sensation, hands gripping the sheets. “No, never.”
She could feel him smile against her as he licked over the hickey. “Do you want me to?”
She nodded.
Thankfully, he didn’t tease her for much longer. He licked a long stripe over the thin layer of underwear, from her slit up to her clit, taking time to press down and suck on the swollen bud.
“Oh my god,” Mel moaned, head falling back on the pillow.
He pulled back, gripping the soaked fabric of her panties and pulling it up, exposing her swollen lips. The friction was delicious. “You can take them off. Please,” Mel gasped out.
It felt like it took minutes for the thin fabric to be slid down her legs, getting caught on her heel before finally leaving her bare.
Frank fell back on her stomach, gripping her thighs and spreading them far. He continued to please her, tongue moving down to her entrance to spread around her ever growing wetness. The sensation was all encompassing, hot and wet as he pushed his face closer into her folds, leaving filthy, open mouthed kisses everywhere around her.
The sound was obscene, and with every suck of her clit, Mel felt a new wave of slick rush out of her. He pulled his face up to look at her, and she almost came at the sight. His face was wet from his nose to his chin, glistening in the low light.
“You taste amazing,” he said, voice thick.
“I can’t even look at you,” Mel whimpered, shaking her head in disbelief. How did I get so lucky?
He let his tongue focus on her clit, sucking and licking all around it. Mel could’ve come just like that, hands grasping tightly against the sheets and toes curling on spread legs. Until she felt him bring one of those ungodly fingers of his up to her entrance, slowly circling it before shoving it inside her. The drag was easy with how wet she was.
“Frank!” she exclaimed in a gasp, her hand closing in the threads of his hair to pull him closer.
“Am I doing good, baby? Tell me I’m doing a good job,” he begged, his voice sending vibrations up her spine.
“Yes, Frank. You’re so good. You make me feel so, so good,” Mel gasped as he resumed sucking tight on her clit, another finger joining the first to pump into her. Inside her, he spread them out, scissoring them to open her up.
“Holy—Frank, ohmyGod,” she moaned out, thighs gripping closer around his head.
He reached up blindly with the hand not inside her, under her thigh to grab her hand in the sheets. “I want you to come on my face. Show me how good I am,” he murmured from inside her.
He maintained a steady, passionate rhythm with his fingers, tongue continuing to lick at where she was most sensitive. It didn’t take long for Mel’s toes to curl and her hands to tighten in his grasp. “Oh God, I’m—,” she cut herself off as her back arched, damn breaking and the waves rushing over her entire body.
He fucked her through it, and the sensation was completely mind numbing. She couldn’t help but grind down on his face as she rode it out, drawing it out as long as she could.
Finally, when the feeling had shifted to overstimulation, she pushed his head away. She could feel strands of her hair that had escaped her braid sticking to her neck. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. He slowly lowered her legs, warm hands laying them back softly on the bed.
Frank left soft kisses on her slick stained thighs and his fingers left their spot inside her. “That was so hot,” he said with a cocky smirk.
She finally found the courage to look down at him. He was a vision. He licked at his wet fingers with a grin, eyes more black than blue. His hair was sticking up in haphazard ways from all her tugging. Her own personal miracle.
“Come up here,” she asked, the adoration obvious in her voice.
He listened, kissing up her body until he got to her lips, giving her a deep, passionate kiss. Mel could taste herself on him, the taste turning her on so much it made her dizzy.
Mel closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows, committing every feeling to memory— his coarse, sweaty chest hair against her own heaving chest, the dead weight of her legs, the pulsing of her center both satisfied and hungry. His arms bracketing her bust, his lips breathing softly against her collarbone.
She raked her hands down his broad shoulders, humming softly. “You okay?” he murmured into her skin.
She hummed in response, bringing him back up for a kiss. Kissing had never felt so good until him. Even so, her mind raced, knowing he was still hard and aching beneath her. She suddenly felt awkward, not knowing what to do next.
“You sure?” Frank repeated, head raising to look at her in the eyes.
Mel nodded quickly. “Yes. You just—you make me nervous,” she said softly, bringing her hands up to her face.
“We can be done. Whatever you want,” Frank said, taking one of her hands to uncover her flushed face.
Mel squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted him—god, did she want him—, but her post-orgasmic haze had half her guardrails back up. “Kiss me,” she said, because nothing else seemed right.
He obeyed quickly. This was something she could do, let him kiss her and feel the newly familiar drag of his lips and tongue against her own. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, just kissing and running their hands all along one another, until she felt her bravery scale up.
She reached an arm down, down, down his chest as he kissed behind her ear. Against her ear, she could feel him whimper as her fingers grazed over his cock, still tethered by two layers of clothing. Even so, she could feel how hard he was, making her thrust up to meet him.
“Jesus, Mel,” Frank sighed against the side of her neck.
“Will you take off your sweatpants?” Mel asked, to Frank’s soft laugh.
“Yeah, yeah. Thought you’d never ask,” he said, scrambling over to the side to push them off.
Mel couldn’t respond, eyes enraptured at his movements. His legs were just as hairy, darker as they hid into his boxers. “Your boxers, too?” she added timidly.
Frank looked over at her, smirk decorating his handsome face. “Yeah?”
Mel smiled back, a small closed-lipped one.
Her heart did a flip at the look of it. She’d seen her fair share of male genitalia in textbooks and lab dummies, as well as the limited experience that she had. But seeing Frank, so hard and red, dripping onto his lower stomach, aching and ready for her was a rush of want she’d never felt before.
She swallowed, tongue peeking out to lick at her dry lips. “You…you’re so…” she stuttered, brain flailing trying to think of something simultaneously hot and generous to say.
Frank grinned wide as he lifted himself on top of her once more, lanky legs bracketing hers. “So what? Hard for you?”
Mel sighed in yes, yes, yes. She let her nails skid down her shoulders and arms, opening up her legs almost subconsciously.
“Okay?” Frank murmured, grabbing himself in one hand and lining himself up against her outer folds, grinding against her and getting his tip wet with her slick.
Mel gasped, forcing herself to look down at where they were almost connected. “So okay,” she replied with the little strength she had.
His cock rubbed against her, up and down, teasing the both of them until they were quivering with need. “‘M ready,” Mel confirmed, the words barely out before he lined up against her entrance, pushing in slowly.
“Oh my god,” Frank whispered against her mouth, pulling her in for a kiss as he sunk deeper into her wet core. “Oh my god, Mel.”
“I know,” Mel agreed, opening her legs wider to open up more space for him. It an almost too big stretch, but he was patient, going slowly to help her open and adjust for him. When he finally buried himself to the hilt, they both groaned at the feeling.
Mel’s chest was heaving already. “You can move,” she affirmed.
He pulled out slowly, the drag deliciously tense against her tight walls. He fucked back into her, twin moans escaping them both. “Holy shit,” Mel said, shocked at her own language.
“Good?” Frank said, burying his head into her shoulder, arms shaking as he repeated the motion. He brought one arm down to her hip, holding it to better position himself.
“Yes,” Mel groaned out as he thrusted back into her sharply. She wasn’t sure if it was just the intimacy, feeling his body so close to hers, loving on her so perfectly, but she felt tears begin to spring at her eyes.
She was already addicted to it. As he got more confident, his thrusts became deeper, harder. She could feel him slowly unraveling beneath her. She wanted to be close like this, forever.
“I love this. Being close,” Mel let herself say aloud into his ear, his hair wet with perspiration.
“God, me, too, baby. Never felt so good,” he groaned against her collarbone. “You’re so tight. Feel amazing.” He lifted himself back up and took one of her spread legs in hand, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder.
The new angle had him slipping even deeper into her wet heat, the change forcing them both speechless. Mel let herself grind into his thrusts, her hips rolling on their own accord. She brought a hand down to rub at her clit.
“I’m so close. Don’t want this to end,” Frank whimpered, forehead against her own as they breathed short staccato breaths into each other’s mouths.
“Me, too. You feel amazing,” Mel replied, voice lilting as the pressure mounted on her clit.
“Yeah? No one else fucks you like this?” Frank said, the filth only bringing her closer to the edge.
Mel moaned and shook her head. “I could do this forever,” she admitted honestly as her thighs started to tense up, the feeling of him fucking her along with the rubbing of her clit almost too much pleasure to bare.
Frank moaned, pulling her into a kiss. “Come, please, baby. I won’t until you do,” he whispered against her lips, letting the fingers gripping her ankle rub soft circles into the skin.
Mel was helpless to follow, her head falling back and mouth agape as her fingers rubbed furiously as her clit. Her thighs froze in the way Frank had manhandled her, her orgasm hitting her like a freight train as he fucked into her. He fucked her through it, his thrusts suttering after three, coming inside her in hot spurts.
The world seemed to stop as they embraced each other through the aftershocks. Mel knew she’d left marks along his upper arms, the same way his thumb bruised her ankle and hip. He was so hot, a thick layer of sweat covering him and layering onto her skin.
He pulled out slowly, letting their combined spend leak out of her. Frank couldn’t help but stare down at her swollen pussy, wet with both of them.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Mel tried to chastise, but came out as a sexed out groan.
“Good Lord, Mel. You’re just…,” Frank shook his head instead of finishing, hypnotized on her.
“I need to clean up,” Mel said, her rational brain slowly turning on like an old building’s electric. The feeling of rapidly cooling cum on her body was losing its hotness the more she came down.
“Let me,” Frank said, groaning as he got up to fetch her a washcloth. He wiped her down gently, the warmth from the towel soothing to Mel’s abused skin.
“Thank you,” she said after he finished, lying down next to her. She snuggled up closer to him, for once in her life not feeling overexposed, even as she laid naked with him.
He burrowed an arm underneath her, bringing her closer to him so her head laid against his chest, still warm with exertion. He sighed in content, kissing the top of her head. “I should probably go back to my room,” he spoke aloud.
“What?” Mel exclaimed, almost embarrassed at how quickly her head lifted to look at him. She might’ve died if she had to sleep alone.
She felt a mix of annoyance and relief when she saw his signature smirk. He squeezed her tighter as he said, “Joke. I’ll stay as long as you want me.”
“You think the snow will let up by tomorrow?” she asked as she settled back against him. It felt so strange, to have someone to hold. But now that she had it, she wasn’t sure how she’d exist again without it.
Frank clicked his tongue in thought. “Not sure. I’ll check in the morning. Know what you wanna do in Chicago?”
Mel hummed in affirmation. “It’s indoors. Should be safe enough weather-wise.” Her eyes closed, lids heavy. The exhaustion of the day weighed down on her like an anvil, Frank’s body like a cloud to fall asleep against.
“Perfect,” Frank lowered his voice, sensing her sleepiness. “Can’t wait.”