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[francislangdon]

MILKY PLEASE we decide to play a game of chicken together which leads to one thing or another AU or we dated when we were younger and now we’re step siblings AU 🙇🏻‍♀️ on my hands and knees

we dated when we were younger and now we’re step siblings

It was barely even one year that she dated Frank Langdon.

Mel didn’t tell anyone. Not her friends, definitely not her dad— even Becca didn’t know.

It’s a warm secret, one that she keeps close to her heart, the only rebellious thing that she ever did as a teenager; date an older boy— a senior when she was still a freshman— and a boy with a girlfriend at that. “It’s not serious with Abby. We’re not exclusive,” Frank says, “But don’t say anything because she’ll freak out if she sees me with someone else.”

Mel nods, dumbstruck, her lips still tingling with the kiss they shared, clandestine and fervent against her locker when she should have been in math class.

The only time she ever skipped classes was that freshman year, asking for the bathroom pass and not so inconspicuously taking her bag with her so she could meet Frank during sixth period. He completed most of his credits already, doubling on math and science classes when he was a junior, taking no electives his senior year so that he could leave school early— usually with Mel in tow.

“You can probably do the same,” Frank says, while they’re sitting in a McDonald’s drive-through at noon on a sunny day, her classes forgotten, “You’re definitely smart enough.”

Mel already quizzed him about that, planned out exactly what AP and honors are worth it. Of course, she’ll need to make up for everything she’s missing right now, in Frank’s car instead of world history, but then he hands her fries and an oreo flurry to share and for once, Mel decides not to worry about it.

He’s a little bit of a bad influence.

Later, Frank kisses her syrupy-sweet in his bedroom, the house empty in the middle of the afternoon. It’s all clothes strewn on the floor, Nirvana and Oasis posters, an electric guitar in the corner. She’s worried he won’t like the press of her braces on his tongue, catching his lips, but he smiles against her mouth.

“You’re so cute, Mel,” before he kisses her again, deeper, doing something with his tongue that makes her quiver. Frank takes her virginity in that bedroom.

It’s always like something out of a movie with him. Cutting class to be with him, sneaking out of her window at night to meet him in the park. Sometimes, he even brings her around his friends, all older than her, hockey players and stoners.

Frank pulls her onto his lap as she declines the blunt and lets him pass it to one of friends instead.

“Who’s the freshman? I thought you were still dating Abby,” the guy says, eyes red and a laughing tone under his voice.

He shrugs, “If she asks, don’t tell her I brought a girl over,” he looks at her and winks, “Besides, Mel is like a sister to me. Nothing’s going on between us.”

“Nothing,” Mel repeats clumsily, blushing at their shared secret. It’s exhilarating to know something no one else does— only her and Frank. His arm tightens around her waist, squeezing her close to his chest.

He drops her off at home before the sun comes up, a few blocks away from her house so no one sees, and Mel climbs back through her window with shaky legs and an undercurrent of satisfaction.

They inevitably break up in the spring. Frank is going to New York for college, Mel is stuck in Pittsburgh for three more years with no expectation that he was ever going to wait for her. An expiry date was stamped on their relationship from the moment it began. It’s only a little melancholy when it finally does end.

She keeps a few pictures of them, a stack of his chemistry notes, his green hoodie, two sizes too big for her. Other than that, the memory of him is covetous, something surprising for her college roommate to giggle over when she tells her. My ex-boyfriend was four years older than me. Shaggy black hair, blue eyes. He was very cute. He played the guitar. But it’s only that— a memory.

It feels, almost, like dating Frank happened to someone else. It was so out of character for Mel, in those idyllic and unrepentant few months they snuck around. She could hardly tell you what came over her when they were together.

Frank is a ghost of a memory, one that Mel only glimpses occasionally. That’s why she doesn’t know how to react when she comes home from her first semester of college and finds him solid, standing in her kitchen, chatting casually with her dad.

Mel knows that her father remarried while she was at school. The woman is nice, she hears. Margaret, a widow as well. She has three sons, all older then Mel and Becca.

The youngest of which is, apparently, Frank Langdon.

Her dad introduces them. Or, he thinks he does. “This is my daughter, Melissa. Mel, come say hi to your brother.”

Mel cringes at the word brother when it’s describing Frank, tall and handsome still, a little more well-built than the last time she saw him.

“It’s…nice to meet you, Mel,” Frank says carefully, eyes roaming over her. His hand twitches in an aborted gesture, like he’s going for a handshake before thinking better of it.

She presses her hands against her neck, shaking her head slightly, trying to fight the automatic instinct to touch him, to play with his hair or pull him down for a kiss. Brother. Step-brother. “Um, l-likewise, Frank.”

He catches her eye and she reddens.

They’re going to be normal about this. She’s capable of being normal about this.

“These are new,” Frank says, later that night, after he sneaks into her bedroom. Their parents— their shared parents— are asleep. She’s in his lap, grinding against him softly as he plays with her tits, bigger now than when she was fourteen, “Guess my baby sister is all grown up now.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Mel winces. He pinches a nipple, grinding his cock into her through the layers of clothes.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda hot? You liked the whole forbidden thing when we were dating.”

“It’s gross,” her breath hitches when his clothed erection slides against her clit just right. She impatiently tugs at his sweats, “You’re not my actual brother. Our parents are just married.”

Frank swipes his hands over her hips to pull down her shorts, “My sweet little sister,” he teases, “Waited for me while I was away at college, right?”

An involuntary whimper comes out of her. It’s the thought of Frank coming back to her, like it’s a given. His cock rubs against her folds, gathering slick as they rock together. She fists a hand into his shirt, his body warm underneath her. He makes all those adolescent feelings come rushing back, everything raw and vernal where he touches her.

“Yeah,” Mel mumbles, “Missed you.”

He sighs contentedly, “Can’t believe I get to come home to this now.” His hips roll, he notches his cock at her entrance. “You have no idea how much I fantasized about fucking this cunt again.”

“Really?” she asks, nudging him deeper.

“Mmmh, fuck yes,” he groans, sliding home, “This pussy is just as sweet as the last time I had it.”

“Don’t leave again,” Mel blushes, starting to stutter out a desire that feels almost too filthy to speak, “You’re my big brother now, you can’t leave.”

“That’s right, baby, big brother’s not going anywhere,” Frank pulls her in close to his chest and starts to thrust into her properly, remembering exactly how she likes it. It’s so sedative, comforting— familial.