#*cough* frankie morales - I want frankie morales

[undercoverpena]

just want to have a brown-eyed, broad man pull the covers over the two of us in bed, and say, “hi,” in that way where their eyes crinkle and my face breaks into a grin—before he asks me if I’m okay, and hugs me because he knows I’m not.

you know?

[avastrasposts]

Swimming lessons with Catfish

@secretelephanttattoo has taken on the role as my muse apparently and is feeding me inspiration on the daily.

So inspired by this ask, a shortish (2.2k) drabble with sweet and hot Frankie Morales. This one is set in an alternate, no-outbreak, universe of The Pilot and his Girl.

Couldn't find a suitable Frankie coded pic so I must again ask for your inspiration and suggestions! Thank you @secretelephanttattoo again for the perfect gif!

Smut below the cut, you have been warned (or notified if you will).

You hear the giggling as soon as you open the car door, the humid heat hitting your body with a vengeance after the air conditioned interior of the car. Lucía is squealing loudly from your back yard and you follow the sound through the house, dropping your laptop bag on the kitchen counter. Through the sliding doors in the back you see the glitter of the blue pool and Frankie’s tanned back in the shallow end. He’s got Lucía in front of him, holding her gently around the middle as she lies flat on her belly in the water, diligently working her way through unsteady breast strokes. 

“Muy bien, princesa,” he praises her as he almost lets go of her and she glides through the water. 

You hang back, leaning on the door frame, watching Frankie patiently help his little girl take stroke after stroke, reminding her to keep her fingers closed and flat. His cap and shirt lay discarded in one of the sun loungers, Lucía’s dress on the ground just by the pool. She must’ve been wearing her swimsuit under it, she’d been so excited about learning to swim ever since you’d bought the house and now every day after school she demanded swimming lessons. 

Frankie turns around in the pool, helping Lucía flip over to swim the other way and spots you. 

“Cariño,” his eyes crinkling at the corners as he shields his eyes against the sun and smiles up at you, “get out of those boring office clothes and jump in the pool with us.” 

“Look, look!” Lucia shouts excitedly, “I can swim by myself now!” She launches herself from Frankie’s arms before he has a chance to react, and takes two successful strokes before she starts sinking, coughing water, Frankie quickly catching her and pulling her up to the surface. 

“Careful, gordita, you need to be a bit more careful,” he gently scolds her, holding her up as she coughs, “Maybe that’s enough swimming for today?” 

“No, I want to swim more!” she protests, wrapping her arms around her dad, “Please, papá…” she looks at him under her eye lashes, her big brown eyes, so like Frankie’s, leaving him helpless. 

“Fine, a little bit more then,” he smiles and you laugh. You’ve been on the receiving end of Frankie’s puppy eyes more than once, it’s nice to see that he’s just as powerless to resist when it’s his daughter wielding them. 

“I’ll start dinner, Frankie,” you say, “maybe we can….later…” you say, giving him a wink that makes his dimple break out as he smiles back at you with a mischievous grin. 

It’s a good thing swimming is tiring work you think as you load the dishwasher after dinner. Frankie had come back in with Lucía after you called out to them that dinner was ready, sending her to the bathroom to change into her fluffy bathrobe, a special allowance since she would have to take a bath after dinner. While she was in her room he’d come up behind you at the counter where you were busy spooning spaghetti alfredo into bowls. 

“What plans did you have for later, mi hermosa,” he muttered, slipping his warm hands around your waist, snaking one hand up under the t-shirt, his t-shirt, you’d changed into before you started cooking. 

“I don’t know, maybe answer some emails, do the taxes, fold some laundry,” you say casually, pretending to ignore how his thick fingers caresses one of your breasts, circling the nipple. With a growl he pinches it between his thumb and finger, making you gasp as the sensation shoots liquid heat through your body. 

“I have other plans for you,” he mumbles, his mouth just under your ear, before he sinks his teeth into that sensitive spot, beginning to suck a mark into your soft skin. The sound of Lucìa’s bare feet padding down the hallway makes him pull away, moving to grab the salad and put it on the table. 

With dinner done, he takes Lucía to the bathroom for her evening bath, followed by a bedtime story. Once you’ve got the kitchen clean you slip into the bedroom you share with Frankie and change into one of your bikinis, not your favorite one, but Frankie’s favorite. You think it’s annoying because it doesn’t let you jump or dive in the water without flashing your tits and ass to the world. Frankie, on the other hand, loves it. He loves the thin ribbons on either side of the bikini bottoms that untie with just one simple pull, unless you double knot them, which you always do, or the way he can sneak his hands around your neck and with one gentle tug untie the ribbon that keeps the top attached, letting your breasts spill free for his big hands to grab. 

You don’t double knot the ribbons tonight, instead you slip out through the glass doors and into the pool. The water is warm after being heated by the sun all day, and glitters faintly in the light of the porch lights you’ve strung up around the back. You lie back and float easily in the water, looking up through the trees at the pale sky, slowly darkening into midnight blue. 

The gentle splash of Frankie getting into the pool pulls you out of your daydreaming, but you don’t look up. You know he’ll come to you, and soon his warm hand slips along your right side, up into your hair as he gently pulls you through the water to the pool’s edge. His lips brush over your forehead, pressing a kiss to your damp skin. 

“Stand up, cariño,” he whispers and you obey, your feet finding the bottom of the pool as he turns you towards him.  

“She’s asleep,” he says, his voice low, “went out like a light after half the story, but I think the neighbors are still awake so keep your voice down, cariño.” 

“Why, what do you have in mind, mr. Morales?” you smile, his dark eyes and roaming hands are making it very clear what he’s up to but you like to hear him say it. 

“Swimming lessons with Catfish,” he smirks, making you snort loudly and he chuckles as you quickly hide your face against his neck, shaking with repressed laughter. 

“Potentially the worst porno title ever,” you whisper once you’ve regained your composure. 

“I don’t know,” Frankie says, his mischievous grin slipping into something more sinful, “it has potential.” He dips his mouth to your collarbone and lets his tongue taste the salt and pool water that’s hanging on to the skin. You tilt your head and sigh, letting one hand find its way into his still damp curls, the other resting on his bicep, feeling the muscle flex under your palm. Frankie’s hand is unsurprisingly finding its way to your neck, pushing your wet hair out of the way and grabbing the ribbon of your bikini top. You feel it slip across your skin as he tugs, the wet fabric catching on your hard nipples. 

“Fuck…” Frankie growls, “I fucking love this bikini,” his hands following the ribbon down to pull it free from your skin and grabbing each one of your breasts in his big hands, the thumbs rubbing over the nipples as he watches the skin pebble and tighten under his ministrations. One hand drops from you and is replaced by his warm mouth, hot against your cool skin as he sucks the nipple firmly, laving his tongue over it with strong strokes. It makes you tilt your head back, drawing in a deep breath and cupping the back of his head with your hand. 

“Frankie…” you mumble, sighing into the warm night air. He hums against your skin and and both hands slip further, into the water and grabbing at your hips, finding the ribbons at the sides, with sharp tugs he pulls at them and chuckles approvingly when they slip out straight away. 

“You didn’t double knot them, cariño,” he smiles, his mouth leaving your nipple so that he can look at you, his eyes half closed and black in the dim light. 

“Knew you’d want easy access,” you smile back, pulling him close so that you can kiss him, making him open his mouth to your tongue, which he willingly does. He tastes like pool water and the coke he had for dinner, soft lips and warm breath against you as his hands pull your bikini bottoms away, letting them float off somewhere in the pool. 

It’s not until his hands pull you flush against his hard erection that you realize that he doesn't have any swim shorts on, just naked, hot skin pressed up against you in the water. He’s grinding himself against you, pulling your legs apart a little so that he slips between your plush thighs and rubs his hard length against your clit. It makes you moan into his mouth, his fingers gripping your hips, rutting against you as he breathes heavily into your mouth, barely contained moans slipping from him. 

“You feel so good, bebita, so fucking good even in the water,” he mumbles, thrusting harder between your thighs. 

“Frankie, please,” you moan, tangling your fingers tighter into his curls, “fuck me…I..I need you inside me, please.” 

You spread your legs, letting him slip out from between your thighs and he gives an unhappy hiss at the loss of contact. But you quickly hook your legs around his waist, the water making you almost weightless, and he turns you both around, pushing you up against the edge of the pool. With a firm grip around the base of his cock you guide the blunt head against your opening, made slick both by the pool and your arousal. Frankie locks eyes with you, one big hand around the back of your neck, as he slowly pushes in, making you keen under the sweet sting as he stretches your tight entrance. His mouth is open, tongue resting on his bottom lip, you watch him quickly lick it before he bites down, grunting as he drives his thick cock deeper inside. 

“Mierda..” he pants, glancing down at where his length is disappearing into you, made blurry by the water, “so fucking good…” 

You tilt your head back, Frankie’s hand holding you steady as you close your eyes and relish the burn in your core, the pulsating feeling in your spine. Frankie bends his head to your neck, his teeth biting down, hard, on the soft skin, the pleasure from the nip shoots through you and makes you clench around his heavy cock, nestled deep inside. He hisses and begins to move, one hand on your hip, the other still cradling your neck. 

The water sloshes around you, splashing against the edge of the pool as he drives himself deeper, groaning against your throat. You have to grip on to his shoulders to ground yourself, the slip and slide of the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit with every thrust of hips. Biting your lips hard, you breathe through your nose, trying to stop yourself from crying out. Frankie’s low grumbles, throaty groans, float through the still night air, he’s trying, but can’t hold it back. 

“Baby, I’m not gonna last,” he mutters, moving up to watch your face contort with every thrust of his cock, “Look at me, please, hermosa, I wanna watch when you come, so fucking beautiful every time.” 

You blink open your eyes with a heavy effort, Frankie pushing your head up so that his dark eyes can stare into yours. 

“You feel so fucking good, when you come around my fat cock,” he growls, slamming his hips into your harder, as much as the water will let him. It’s splashing over the edge, covering your both as he chases his high, holding on to let you get to yours first. 

“C’mon, cariño, be good to me, let me feel you come, you take me so fucking well, so tight for me, so slick, so fucking tight,” he moves his hand from your hip, finding the aching bundle of nerves between your legs and finds that perfect rhythm, a tiny bit more pressure that has you gasping as squeeze your eyes shut. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it, c’mon, let me feel it,” he moans, holding on against his own climax as he works you through it, sealing your mouth with his own when your cries threaten to grow loud. You cry out into his mouth, wailing as his thick cock coaxes every last ounce out of you.

As you begin to come down he digs his fingers into your hips and grinds into you, your spasming pussy milking him dry with every thrust as he fills you up with his spend. You can hear him groan under his breath, low grumbles and heavy panting, a long exhale as he finally slows, his forehead against your shoulder now. 

“Fuck…” he mutters, you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I just realized this means I need to clean the pool before tomorrow.” 

You bite your lip, trying to stop the laughter but your body shakes and betrays you.

“For what it’s worth, Frankie, it was totally worth it,” you giggle, running your fingers through his hair as he pulls out of you with a hiss.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who cleans the pool.” 

Also tagging @ladybess-a03 @harriedandharassed @your-slutty-gf @rhoorl @casa-boiardi @trulybetty because I think you might like it 🥰🥰

[flightlessangelwings]

The Fire Within Us

Frankie Morales x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 5.4k

Warnings- smut (18+ ONLY!), sex pollen (Frankie gets pollened), drug mention (passive, mostly about moving it), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m receiving), multiple positions, overstim, feelings, love confessions, praise kink, creampie, protective!Frankie

Notes- This is a collab with the wonderful and talanted @frying-panties​ who provided not only the idea, but the amazing beautiful art for this piece (below!💖) I had a blast writing this and I’m so happy with how this turned out! And check out their art for this too cause I’m obsessed with it!!! Enjoy!!

To stay up to date on when I post, also follow my update blog and turn on post notifs @flightlessangelwings-updates​

Art and fic under the cut for spice 🔥

~

“Thank you, Catfish! Another delivery without a hitch,” the man, Robert, greeted Frankie right outside the helicopter. 

Frankie let out a huff, “Just doing my job,” he said dismissively. This wasn’t where he thought he would find himself, but with money being tight and jobs sparse, this was Frankie’s only option. He wasn’t happy about it, but it paid well and it gave him a chance to fly.

Robert inspected the packages in the cargo space of the helicopter as Frankie watched. He knew the routine: inspect the delivery, count it all and make sure it was all accounted for, then he got paid. Frankie never asked what exactly he shipped; he figured it was better not to know the details. But this particular batch looked different. It wasn’t cocaine, he knew all too well what that looked like, but he had no idea what it was. 

“All here, as usual,” Robert turned around with a smile on his face and one of the packages in his hand, “I expect nothing less from my best and most discreet flyer.” 

Frankie shrugged, “Just doing my job,” he repeated.

“Your payment, as promised,” he passed an envelope of cash to Frankie, who immediately pocketed it. Robert then flashed a grin that made Frankie’s skin crawl, “You know what this is?” he gestured to the package in his hand.

“You know I never ask,” Frankie replied, keeping his face stern and level. He did not have a good feeling about this and he kept his guard up.

“And I appreciate you for it,” he pulled out a pocket knife and sliced the package open, “And I think you deserve a little bonus,” Robert dug out a handful of what looked like a brightly colored powder, “Dude, you’re too tense! This’ll help you… let off some steam,” he smirked as he blew a small puff of the powder right in Frankie’s face.

“Hey, what the fuck!” Frankie exclaimed as he coughed and waved his hands across his face.

“Especially if you’ve got someone to help you out with the… side effects,” Robert added slyly as he watched Frankie try and brush the powder off his face.

That made Frankie stiffen. Your name immediately popped into his head, but he wasn’t about to let this man know who you were. He was determined to keep you safe and protected from this part of his life at all costs; Frankie couldn’t risk getting you involved in any way. He didn’t want you to ever be used against him if things ever went south; he couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.

“So there is someone,” Robert grinned as he noticed the change in Frankie’s demeanor. 

Frankie’s eyes narrowed.

“Have fun then, Fish,” the man sounded too happy as he turned and left Frankie alone with his thoughts.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself as he shook his head and made his way out, “What the fuck was that?” Frankie whispered as he got into his truck and ran his hands across his face and through his hair.

Suddenly, Frankie saw a large flash of white in his vision and then his skin felt like it was on fire. Sweat lined his brow and his pants quickly felt tighter as his cock stiffened out of nowhere. He let out a deep breath to try and calm himself before he blasted the air conditioning in his face to try and cool off.

“What the fuck was in that?” he repeated to himself as he wiped sweat off his forehead. 

Not wanting to sit there any longer, Frankie decided he was well enough to drive and took off. He figured he would just head home and ride out whatever was now pulsing through his system until he was ok again. He just had to make it home and everything would be ok.

“Just make it home…” he muttered to himself.

The drive felt like a blur as Frankie kept repeating the mantra of “home” to himself over and over again. Yet, as much as he forced himself to think of home, all he could think about was you. Your beautiful smile, your kind heart, the way your eyes lit up when you looked at him, your laugh… your hands, your lips, the curves of your body, the swell of your breasts, your perfect ass… Frankie shook his head as his thoughts quickly morphed into something else. 

He imagined what you could look like as he fucked you, or the look you would give him if you were on your knees with your lips around his cock. He wondered if your pussy tasted as sweet as he imagined it to be. Frankie imagined the sounds you’d make for him as he pounded into you over again over again, or how beautiful you’d look when you came on his cock…

Frankie’s desire for you flooded his system as the images in his head turned more and more lustful. Vaguely, he knew that it was something about that drug that was making him lose control like this, but there was nothing he could do to stop it now. And as he pulled his truck into park and turned it off, Frankie realized that he wasn’t at his place at all… he was at yours.

“When did I turn here?” he whispered to himself. But again, Frankie moved without realizing it and in a flash he was suddenly standing at your door. 

What was he expecting when he knocked at your door? What would Frankie even say to you? Hello, I was forced to take this drug and now all I want to do is fuck you senseless, oh yeah and I’m fucking in love with you. Yeah sure, that would go across real well. You were Frankie’s best friend, you’d been there for him through everything. You were always there when he got back from deployment, you were there when his fiance left him, you were the only one who really knew what he was doing when he made those private flights. Not even the guys knew about that…

Swallowing hard, Frankie knocked on your door. His mind raced and his breaths were deep and heavy as he waited for you, but every thought was forced out when he was face to face with you. He let out another deep exhale as he scanned your figure up and down. You were dressed down in just a tshirt and shorts, obviously not expecting company for the evening. But to Frankie, you were still stunning.

“Frankie!” you breathed in surprise, “What are you doing here? Is everything ok?”

A rush of heat pulsed through his body as you spoke and Frankie let out a heavy breath as he ran his hands through his hair, “I-I just…” he stuttered, unsure of what exactly to say.

Concern lined your features, “You look a little flushed, Frankie,” you reached out and cupped his face, “Shit you’re burning up! Come in, let me help you.” There was no hesitation in your face as you led him inside and closed and locked the door behind you.

Frankie’s eyes dropped to the floor as he tried to shift himself so that his erection wasn’t as obvious. He knew his face had to be hot and he felt the sweat on his scalp. And it only got worse as he watched you; the moment you turned your back to him to close your front door Frankie’s eyes went right to your ass. 

“Frankie…?”

Something about the tone of your voice snapped Frankie out of his trance and his eyes shot up to meet your gaze. He studied your face in silence for a moment, and when your lips parted to let out a shaky exhale, the dam broke.

Frankie groaned your name as he closed the gap between your bodies in an instant. His large hands cupped either side of your face and he looked deep into your eyes for a moment before he took your lips with his own in a heated kiss. You gasped as his movement caught you completely off guard, but your heart flipped in your chest as you instantly leaned into his kiss.

It had been your secret for years: you were desperately in love with Francisco Morales. Between his beautiful brown eyes, the sharp angle of his nose, his broad chest and his good, kind heart, you were a goner from the moment you met. You lost count of how many nights you laid in your bed alone and touched yourself with his name on your lips. How many times had you fingered yourself and imagined they were Frankie’s hands instead? You were too embarrassed to answer that honestly. 

A growl escaped Frankie’s chest as he guided your body across your living room until your back collided with the wall. You squealed softly as the breath got knocked out of your chest, but you clung to Frankie, putting all your trust in him. And the taste of him drove you wild…

The moment Frankie kissed you, it felt like a wave of emotions crashed into him. All the feelings he buried over the years bubbled to the surface as he devoured your lips with his. And the moment your back hit the wall, he pressed his body fully against you and leaned completely into you. A mix of his groan and your moan echoed between your bodies as he was sure you felt how rock hard he was.

Everything in the logical side of his brain screamed at him to stop. He knew this was too much to put on your shoulders, too much to ask of you. But Frankie couldn’t help it. Whatever was in the drug overpowered every other thought in his brain until he was completely consumed by you. And once he got a taste of you, Frankie knew he couldn’t stop himself. 

But he summoned every ounce of strength in his body and forced himself to break away from you. Heavy pants filled the room as you blinked your eyes open as the two of you stared at each other for several tense moments. Frankie’s arms trembled as he held himself back from ripping your clothes off and ravaging you right then and there. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath as he dropped his head.

“Frankie?” your tone was soft, yet he still heard the concern there, “What’s going on?” Not that you would complain; you had wanted him to kiss you for so long. But you knew Frankie better than anybody, and you knew when something was up with him.

“Shit I’m so sorry, querida,” Frankie’s voice was strained as he rested his forehead against yours, “I got something in my system from my run today,” he clenched his jaw, “And it’s making me want to fuck you senseless.”

You gasped but your voice turned more stern, “Frankie, you knew better than to try what you move.”

“I know!” he snapped back harsher than he meant to. When Frankie saw your eyes go wide, he relaxed his shoulders, “I’m sorry,” his voice was softer, “He kinda forced it on me…” his voice trailed off.

“Frankie?” you reached out for him.

“This was a mistake,” it took all of his willpower to push himself off of you and turn away, “I’m sorry…”

“Wait,” you didn’t let Frankie get far as you grabbed his shirt and spun him back around to face you, “Stay,” the second word was just a whisper, but you knew he heard you. 

Frankie looked at you with those big brown eyes that made you melt, and you saw the fire that burned behind them. But, you also saw something else… something more melancholy. Under your hand, you felt how tense he was, as if it physically pained him to hold himself back. Briefly, you dropped your gaze down and noticed the bulge in his pants. 

For a moment, your own emotions swirled around in your head; it must have meant something that you were the person Frankie thought of at that moment. That kiss was too passionate for it to only be the drug in his system. And when Frankie whispered your name so sweetly, your own dam of emotions broke.

“Fuck me,” your voice was hushed yet it held all the passions and emotions you felt, “Please Frankie…” you took a deep breath, “I… I’ve wanted this… Wanted you for so long…”

Your confession stunned Frankie to stillness for a moment that he almost forgot about his painfully hard cock. He stared deep into your eyes for a long moment and time felt like it froze for both of you as your words hung in the air. Even without him saying anything back, you could tell from the way he stared at you and the way he clung tightly to you that his feelings reflected your own. 

A low grumble emanated from deep in Frankie’s chest as he lunged forward and captured your lips in another heated and desperate kiss. You moaned into him but you gave in more easily now that you laid your heart out for him and he didn’t push you away. Frankie breathed your name against your lips as he dragged you back towards your bedroom. 

As he guided your bodies through your place, Frankie didn’t even need to look up or break away from you. He knew your place like the back of his hand, and he couldn’t even say how many nights he imagined almost this exact scenario: leading you down while devouring your lips and tugging at your clothes until you were bare for him. 

Frankie yanked your shirt off first before he ripped your shorts and panties down in one swift movement. You clawed just as desperately at him, ripping his shirt open and fumbling with the zipper of his jeans clumsily. Heat rose between your bodies as a trail of discarded clothing led the way to your bed.

Once you reached your bed, Frankie quickly pushed you down so that you landed on your back, and an inferno burned in his eyes as he watched your breasts bounce as you hit the mattress. You looked up at him with a glazed over expression and immediately parted your legs. Frankie’s eyes trailed down to your pussy, and even in the low light of your bedroom he saw how wet you were for him.

“Fuck baby…” he groaned as he covered you with his body and attacked your neck with bites and open mouthed kisses.

The warmth of Frankie’s body was inviting, even when he was fueled by some mysterious drug. He took your breath away from how beautiful he looked in the low light while he gazed down at you with a look of pure admiration on his face. And when he kissed you, it felt like you were in a dream. 

“Frankie…” a shiver ran down your spine when he nipped at a sensitive spot on your neck.

His hands cupped your breasts and you moaned when Frankie pinched your nipples. You were so soft underneath him, Frankie knew he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. So with one last kiss on your neck, he pushed himself up so that he lined his cock up with your entrance. 

“Querida…” Frankie groaned as he thrust into you, fully sheathing himself inside you in one motion.

You screamed in pleasure as you clawed at Frankie’s back. His cock stretched you out more than any of your toys, and since he was too filled with his own need from the drug, Frankie didn’t take his time with you like he would have wanted to. He mumbled a soft apology as the drug fueled him on and he snapped his hips against yours, desperate for release. 

Frankie growled as he drilled into you; his large hands gripped your hips tightly as the drug made him lose all control of himself. He pounded into you at a fast, harsh pace, and the way you moaned and screamed every time his cock was fully buried in you only spurred him on more. You dug your nails into his broad, strong back as your legs framed Frankie’s body. It was overwhelming but in all the best ways because it was Frankie… your Frankie. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled, “You feel so fucking good baby… So fucking beautiful…”

All you could do was moan in response as Frankie showered you with praise while he fucked you so roughly. It was a sign that Frankie was still in there under the drug that made him fuck you senseless. It felt so natural to you to let Frankie fuck you and surrender to him like this. You trusted him more than anyone… and you loved him more than anything in the world. 

In what felt like no time, Frankie felt the warmth build from deep within him and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Between the drug and how good your pussy felt around his cock, his climax quickly built up until it threatened to spill over and explode.

“Baby… I’m gonna…”

“Cum in me Frankie,” you whispered as you held him tightly.

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned as your request pushed him over the edge. Frankie came hard as he spilled himself into you, his hips still pounding against yours as wave after wave of his climax crashed into him. 

But, where Frankie hoped to find relief in his climax he only found more desire. As his hips slowed, he realized he was still hard inside you, and you gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes as you realized the same thing. Even after the strongest orgasm of his life, and finally getting to fuck you, Frankie still needed more. 

“Frankie…?”

“Shit,” he spat as he rocked against your body again.

You dropped your head against the mattress as Frankie started fucking you once more. Tears filled the corners of your eyes as you felt the soreness creep up, but you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted to be there for him, and you’d wanted this for so long you didn’t want to let it go. But you also felt overwhelmed with emotions as Frankie sped up his thrusts again.

He noticed when a single tear rolled down the side of your face, and Frankie immediately wiped it away, “I got you baby,” he whispered as he laid himself completely over you, covering your body with his own, “You’re doing so good, baby… Que hermosa… So good for me…” he mumbled more incoherent praises into your ear as his hips moved on their own.

These weren’t tears of sorrow or pain, but something else, something deeper. Emotions ran high between the two of you as you felt Frankie’s cock hit that sweet spot deep inside you over and over again. Your moans became louder and louder until your body trembled around him.

“Cum for me baby… Please…” he begged as he felt his second orgasm build up, “I need you to cum.”

“Fuck!” you cried out as your body trembled when climax suddenly hit you like a freight train.

And your climax triggered Frankie’s as both of you turned into a gushing pile of sweaty limbs. Together, the two of you rode out your highs on each other as you clung and clawed at each other. It was as if neither of you could get close enough to the other and the desperation boiled over.

You saw stars in your vision as the aftershocks of your powerful orgasm pulsed through your body. Your limbs shook as you tried to hold onto Frankie while he still pounded into you, clearly still desperate for more. 

“Shit,” you heard Frankie hiss, “Fuck…” Clearly he was frustrated when, even after cumming with you, he was still hard and the need still pulsed through his veins. Sobs of his own escaped his chest as he wrapped his arms around you as best he could, “Fuck… I’m so sorry baby,” Frankie’s voice quivered as he thrust into you again, “I’m so fucking sorry… Lo siento mi cielo…” 

“Frankie…” you had no idea what else to say, and any thoughts you did have were pushed out of your mind as Frankie pounded into you again. Your body was exhausted and sore, but you didn’t want him to stop if he still needed you, so you didn’t push him away. You let Frankie use your body for his release as his cock filled you over and over again until his third orgasm rocked you both to your cores. 

Frankie knew he had to be hurting you, and it killed him inside. But he couldn’t help it, once he started fucking you, he couldn’t stop. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as his own tears flowed from his eyes, “Fuck… Baby I’m so fucking sorry,” he apologized to you over and over again as his rock hard cock still stayed deep inside you.

Something about the sounds of his sobs and the way he said your name like it was a prayer snapped you out of your own mind. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tightly, “It’s ok Frankie,” your voice was soothing and soft, “I’m ok… You’re not hurting me.” It was a lie and you both knew it. But, you had an idea, “Here, let’s try this.”

Gently, you pushed Frankie up so that he was propped on his hands. You took a moment to look into his tear-stained eyes and your heart skipped a beat. Even though his cock was still in you, there was something about looking into his eyes that made you weak. Your eyes fluttered shut as you closed the gap between your faces and placed a soft, sweet kiss on Frankie’s lips. He gasped against you, clearly surprised by your action, and you took the opportunity to flip your bodies.

It took all the strength you had, but you rolled both your bodies around so that Frankie was now on his back and you straddled his waist. Both of you let out soft moans as the new angle drove Frankie’s cock deeper into you. And you both felt the gush of your releases spill between your bodies. 

Frankie looked up at you with the same wide-eyed expression you had on your face before. His hands landed on your hips, but he didn’t grab you. He just rested them against your skin carefully as he studied every inch of your body. The way your breasts rose and fell with your heavy breaths, the way your lips were swollen from his harsh kisses, the fiery look in your eyes… it was all perfection to him. And when Frankie’s eyes trailed down your body, he let out a breathy moan when he saw where your bodies were still connected.

You let out a moan of your own when you felt his cock twitch inside you, and you felt a tingle of embarrassment under Frankie’s intense gaze. He looked up at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, as if you were a goddess, and it made your heart flutter in your chest. But, as much as you would be content to just stay like this, on top of him with his cock buried fully inside you, Frankie still needed your help.

Carefully, you lifted yourself off his body, his cock sliding out of you as you did. You whimpered as his seed dripped from you and you suddenly felt empty without him inside you. And Frankie let out a whine unlike anything you’d ever heard before. You quickly reached up and cupped the side of his face, much like he had done to you before.

“Shh,” you soothed him, “It’s ok Frankie,” you wiped a tear from his face, “I’ve got you,” you echoed his words to you from earlier, “Just trust me.”

Frankie breathed your name, “I trust you, baby.” The apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t have the energy to voice it. You knew though. 

You shimmied your way down his body and settled between his legs. Your mouth watered as you finally got a better look at his cock, and fuck it was beautiful. Even after three orgasms, Frankie’s cock was hard as a rock and stood at full attention. Your eyes trailed up his figure and you watched as his chest rose and fell with deep breaths. If this wasn’t a desperate situation, you would have wanted to kiss every inch of him and take his nipple in your mouth and flick it with your tongue. You wanted to mark his body and show him just how much you truly loved him. But now was not the time.

So you wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped it a few times. Immediately, Frankie let out a loud moan as his head slammed down onto the mattress. And his moans only grew louder when you wrapped your lips around his length and swallowed him fully.

“Fuck! Baby!” he cried out as you bobbed your head up and down his length, “Fuck… Fuck!”

You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked him hard as you stroked the rest of him with your hand. Your tongue swirled around the sensitive tip and you hummed around him when you felt his cock twitch at your actions. Frankie grabbed hold of your scalp and held you tightly as you worked his cock with your mouth.

“Shit, shit, shit… Baby I’m gonna cum…”

You only sucked him off harder, determined to throw Frankie over the edge. And it only took a few more moments for him to explode in your mouth. You gagged at first but you didn’t let up and swallowed every drop of his cum that flowed into your mouth.

When you needed to take a breath, you broke away and wheezed as you filled your lungs with air. Frankie’s seed dripped from the corner of your mouth, but you didn’t care. You casually wiped it away as you watched him come down from his high. Frankie still looked flushed and his skin glistened with sweat, but he seemed calmer than before. As you looked down, you noticed he was still hard, but his cock didn’t seem like it throbbed the way it did before.

“Frankie?” you asked in a whisper, “Frankie, you ok, baby?” you crawled up and hovered over his body.

He didn’t even realize his eyes fluttered shut. Frankie wanted to watch you while you wrapped your lips around his cock and took him into your mouth over and over again. But you felt too good, and when you flicked your tongue against his length, he was done for. Frankie’s heart pounded in his chest, and it only got worse when he looked at your concerned face once more.

“I’m ok, baby,” his voice was raw and low, “I think I’ll be ok now,” he tried to push himself up, not wanting to put you out any more than he already did.

“Wait,” you placed your hands on his chest and kept him in place, “Stay,” you whispered, “I think one more will get this drug out completely.”

Frankie’s eyes went wide as he cupped your face, “Are you sure, baby?”

“Do you not want to?” your voice was barely audible as your own vulnerability showed.

“It’s not that…”

“Let me then,” you interrupted, not sure if you could handle what he was about to say.

You moved slowly, giving Frankie the opportunity to push you away if he wanted to. But as you hovered your pussy over the tip of his cock, Frankie held onto your hips and gently guided your body down. No words were needed in that moment as you sunk down onto him inch by inch. This time, however, it was less desperate, less rushed. You took your time as Frankie’s cock stretched you out once more.

Both of you moaned softly and once your hips met his, you collapsed down onto his chest. Frankie immediately wrapped his arms around you and held you close as you both moved slowly against the other. You both clung to each other and held the other close, but this time it was different. The need was still there, but it was a more heartfelt need instead of drug fueled. 

Slowly, you bounced on Frankie’s cock, letting the veins rub against your inner walls as you moved against him. Every drag of his cock drove you wild, and you felt the heat build up within you in no time. Underneath you, you felt the way his heart pounded in his chest and you were surprised when it matched your own.

“Fuck baby,” Frankie mumbled in your ear as he held you close. His hips bucked against yours as he matched your rhythm from below you, “You’re fucking amazing… You feel so good… So beautiful,” he rambled in a low tone, “Fuck… I love you baby. Te quiero… I fucking love you.”

Your climax hit without warning right after Frankie’s confession. You cried out as tears fell from your eyes as your entire body trembled in his arms. Frankie held you close as you rode out your orgasm on his cock until he too came again. He groaned your name as he tightened his grip on you, as if he was scared you’d disappear if he let you go. 

Once both your final highs were ridden out, both you and Frankie flopped onto your bed, exhausted. Heavy breaths filled the room as you laid on top of him. Frankie ran his hand across your back soothingly as he muttered soft words of affection in your ear. You couldn’t quite hear what he said as the sound of his pounding heart was even louder in your ear. His cock stayed inside you, but you felt it slowly start to soften, and you both knew it was over now.

“Thank you, baby,” Frankie murmured in your ear, “Thank you.”

A sob echoed in the room, and you weren’t sure if it was from you or Frankie.

“I love you too, Frankie,” your voice was hushed and you didn’t dare look him in the eye, “I’ve loved you for so fucking long.”

Frankie smiled against you as he kissed the side of your face. He carefully brought his hand to your head and gently turned you so that you faced him. You gasped when you looked into his deep, beautiful brown eyes and saw the adoration he held there. 

“If we didn’t just go at it for the last few hours, I’d show you just how much I love you. I’d eat your pussy until you ask me to stop,” the sincerity in Frankie’s voice made your heart skip a beat, “I’ve been in love with you for years,” he confessed more shyly.

“Frankie,” you breathed, “I’ve loved you for-fucking-ever,” you let out a soft laugh and paused for a moment, “Maybe that drug wasn’t all that bad then,” you added with jest.

Frankie laughed with you before he turned more serious, “Maybe not,” his brows furrowed, “But I promise baby, nothing like this will happen again. And I promise I’ll keep you safe from anything.” Frankie thought back to the way Robert sneered at him earlier after he realized there was someone special in Frankie’s life, and his words echoed in his head. 

You pushed yourself off of Frankie’s chest, his cock slowly sliding out of you as you did so, and settled yourself at his side. His arms wrapped around you and held you close without hesitation, “I trust you, Frankie,” you said as you rested your head on his chest and made yourself comfortable in his embrace. Nothing had ever made you feel safer than right now, in Frankie’s arms, and you found you never wanted to leave.

Thankfully, Frankie never wanted to let you go and soon enough both of you passed out in the other’s embrace, completely wiped out but still safe and protected. Just as you trusted Frankie, he trusted you with his heart, and he never felt more at home than when he was with you. 

You were right: perhaps some good did come out of that drug. Because now, Frankie could officially call you his. And he was yours. 

[pedrostylez]

Cherry Flavored

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

summary: smoking weed with Frankie who has been pining after you for years. Things finally get admitted while high

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count:3.6k

warnings etc: unprotected p in v, dirty talk, angst, light fluff, riding, mentions of PTSD…I think that is all. No use of Y/N

A/N: Happy Sunday! Here is a one-shot of what smoking weed with Frankie would be like if he had really just been in love with you since day one. Just assume you’re in a state (in the US) that has legalized medical, but not recreational. Okay enjoy :) Sorry for the spelling mistakes it's Sunday okay

The thing about Frankie is that he loves smoking weed with you. 

It always starts with you having a shitty week, nothing going your way and you’re desperate to relax. Sometimes it goes so far as you’re not able to sleep because of the stress of work and you end up begging Frankie to come over and “unwind with you”. That’s your code for him to bring the weed that he was prescribed by his new doctor to help him with his PTSD. 

Ever since he took your advice to ask his doctor about getting it prescribed, he thanked you by sharing some. You really didn’t ask that often, and more than anything Frankie always offered. 

This time it had been raining all week. You had texted him about how frizzy your hair had been that week and even though that’s not usually an issue, you were presenting to clients every day and you knew they weren’t taking you seriously. You had only just started this job and wanted to impress and it was like the world was laughing at you after working so hard.

He struggled to not laugh when you sent texts throughout the week–it was always dramatic with you. When you called him on Friday after he did a follow-up text asking how it was going, he could feel the anxiety through the phone as you drove home. You didn’t even ask for him to come over this time, he offered, hoping it would distract you from all your worries giving you an “it’s okay, I’ll head over soon.” Before hanging up the phone and going into his stash. 

And so he brings the weed and you just smile at him and mention how much you appreciate him spending time with you. You preferred being alone, always more independent than other girls he had ever been close with, but you guys spending time together was almost the same as being alone.  It could be hours of you two not saying anything watching a movie, eating food and it was just as comfortable as if you were spending the night alone. 

When you come out from your bedroom, changed into pajamas and a robe to keep warm, he has rolled a joint and offers the first hit to you but you wave him off, not wanting the first puff. He shrugs, reaching for the lighter you keep next to your candles while you sit down and get cozy next to him. 

The smoke rolls out of his mouth, not needing to hold his breath like he used to-this stuff was strong and he wouldn’t be surprised if you would feel the buzz just by sitting next to him. He turns his head to you and offers it, planning to warn you about this most recent batch, watching your fingers glide against his to hold the joint gently, bringing it up to your pouted lips and lightly inhaling. He didn’t have time to let you know before your eyes widen, stronger than you were ready for, and holding your breath to not cough. You look over at Frankie, note his smirk as he watches you play it cool and immediately let out your breath to cough roughly, eyes stinging with tears.

“Sorry baby, I should have warned you.” He breaks the comfortable silence, reaching to rub your back lightly He feels the muscles in his shoulders relax, down low closer to the blade where he never thought he could release tension. “This is the good stuff, don’t need a lot to just lay down, you know?”

You nod, taking another quick hit before handing it back to him and sinking farther into the couch. “Don’t be surprised if I fall asleep sitting up.” You joke, glancing at him for a moment to watch him take another hit, mesmerized by his lips around the paper. You found yourself watching him sometimes when he would come over, content with your quiet and just moving about your space as if he belonged there. How he moved, how he rested, you were always fascinated. 

He chuckles, stamping out the end against his jeans and setting the joint on your coffee table. You never kept an ashtray, not wanting people to think you like cigarettes and give them the wrong impression, but made it difficult the first few times Frankie brought over weed. He eventually gave up, making sure to wear his ratty jeans whenever he came over like this. The black charcoal spot on the left knee of his jeans reminded him of his time with you whenever he looked down.

He looks at you, feet up with your robe wrapped around your body covering your pajamas, smirking at how your head is lying back as far as it can, the column of your neck exposed with your eyes closed in bliss.

This was what relaxed you. You loved having your body fully relaxed, your mind hazy, and tingles going up and down your limbs. You could feel your feet and hands heating up, your blood flowing more freely.

Every time you got high together, Frankie had to hold himself back from kissing you. 

He just imagined it would be literal magic, tasting the candy you seemed to always have, or maybe the leftovers of your gum, warm and plush and soft. 

He had been caught plenty of times staring at your mouth, sober or not, typically by the other guys. Pope would always shove his shoulder, cracking a smile and giving him another shove before pointing to his own eyes to say “Keep them up here” before distracting the rest of the group from Frankie’s gawking. 

Benny would wrap his arm around his shoulder, turning him away from looking at you to see if Frankie would try anyway, crane his neck out of Benny’s hold to keep looking. Frankie usually was able to control himself, but Benny had caught him plenty of times pulling away from his stronghold to see where you had gone or who you were talking to. “If you don’t make a move then you can’t be upset if she goes for someone else, buddy.”

Will was the nicest about it, going all soft in the eyes and looking between you and Frankie to see if you would notice. You always knew when Frankie was looking based on how Will was acting, and you struggled to not just connect your eyes with Frankie and let Will giggle like a girl watching Pride and Prejudice for the first time.

But if you caught him, you only ever blushed, looked up at his hat, and would turn away. You never had the courage to ask what he was looking at, but you knew he was looking at your mouth and it made your heart flutter, wanting to lean in to see if he would take the bait. 

You and Frankie had been friends for a long time, and while you were attracted to him neither of you took it further. You noted his pet names for you, but the other boys also had similar sayings and you didn’t want to read too far into it. Ruining what you had with each other was not in the cards if it meant you had to take the first step. 

Tonight wasn’t any different as you opened your eyes slowly, tilting your head to the side to see Frankie leaning back on the couch, facing you so one leg was on the cushions, arm over the back with his fingers reaching out touching some of your hair. There was a small smile on his face, eyes glued to your bottom lip, glancing up at your eyes for a moment when you turned to look at him and back down on your mouth. 

When he was high he felt like he could tell you anything. His deepest secrets had come out before on this very couch, stoned out of his mind as he spilled his feelings about what he did in South America, or what flights he felt went wrong. He always watched you throughout his secret telling, unable to look away at how unfazed you were, keeping eye contact with him and reassuring him with a brush of your fingers against his leg. 

In the scope of his whole life, what he was about to admit was very minuscule. Gruffly, he stated, “I want to kiss you so badly.” 

You gave him that same look that you always give him, eyes glazed over as you reach for his knee and give it a squeeze. “I know you do.” You sigh, the corners of your mouth tilting up as he tickles your cheek with the end of your hair. 

He felt vulnerable, unsure where the courage to tell you was coming from but felt he had fallen into a hole and now he had to dig in deeper. “I always want to kiss you, even if I am not high or drunk.” He feels the words start to bubble over like he won’t be able to stop. “Do you ever think about kissing me? About us getting to be….letting us be together like that? Or more?” 

Your thoughts are going a mile a minute, unable to keep up with what you end up saying. “Yeah, I think about it. Usually when I am trying to go to sleep.” 

His breath stops, letting go of your strand of hair and looking back up to your eyes. You’ve lifted your head now but still have an unreadable expression. “Is that all you think about when you’re trying to go to sleep? Me?”

You giggle, moving your body to face him more with your robe coming loose and exposing your collarbone. His eyes have now attached there. “No, I think about other things too. But I think about you when I want a distraction so I can fall asleep.”

He nods knowingly, reaching out to brush the back of his hand against your cheek and neck, loving how you lean into his touch. While his day-to-day life had slowed down since coming home, his unhealthy distraction was thinking about you. If all he did during the day was think about you, text you, and go out with you and his friends, then to him it was a successful day. 

Maybe just the two puffs were enough to give him the courage to ask for more. “Can I kiss you then, baby? I’ve wanted…” He pauses, laughing lightly. “I don’t think I should admit that.”

“Admit what?” You grab his hand that is paused on your cheek, gripping his fingers to not let him pull away. He always tried to reel in his feelings when he was high, realizing too late what he had started to admit and you had worked with him on just letting it out. This information was different from other times, his feelings for you were not something you had ever touched on together, but you tried to push your own aside so he could be open without your excitement getting in the way. 

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head and leaning forward slightly to tell you this secret. “Admit that I’ve wanted to kiss you since we first became friends.” He whispers, noticing your eyes jump down to his mouth. Hope began to flutter in his stomach, pupils dilating at how your breathing changed. 

“That would have been a good thing to know, Frankie.” You say breathlessly, reaching toward to his crumpled t-shirt and pulling him forward more. “I would have let you.” You pause with his face inches away from you, his nose brushing the side of yours and he tilts one way and then the other. 

He can feel your breath pick up again, your hand tightens on his shirt as his hand reaches around to the back of your head and holds you steady. “What about now? Would you let me now?” He needed permission, the final approval. 

One second you’re nodding, frantic for him to come closer and to attach his lips to yours. The next your eyes are closed, face tingling and connected to Frankie’s, tongues intermingling messily. His kiss is powerful, hand firmly on the back of your head and in your hair, suddenly nipping at your bottom lip and panting. 

He swears he tastes cherry Jolly Ranchers-he didn’t see a bag in the kitchen or any in your candy bowl that you keep on the coffee table, but he swears it is in the undertones of your breath, in every swipe of his tongue. He pulls away briefly to open his eyes and look at you, your eyes still closed and lips pouting out to him. It has always meant to be this way in his eyes. “Did you have Jolly Ranchers?”

His question surprises you, making your eyebrows furrow and peel open your eyes at him. He is already smiling, leaning forward to peck at your lips again before giving you time to speak. “No, I have Starburst on the table…did you want some?” You ask, glancing at the table where the joint is currently, a bowl of candy half empty. 

He’s shaking his head, turning your face back to his and leaning in again. He mumbles against your lips “I should’ve known, fucking cherry Starburst.” He kisses you quickly again. “So fucking sweet.” 

Now you’re moaning, not sure if he is referring to the candy or to you, reaching your hands back up around to the nape of his neck. One hand glides down your side, pulling your leg over his as he lifts you to be in his lap. He leans back on your couch, your lips following his as he tightens his one-handed grip on your hip to shift you over his center, silently showing you how turned on he is. 

You release his lips, panting into his mouth and holding on to his shoulders for leverage, shifting your hips to glide up and down the denim covering him. Your robe has found itself untied, opening your eyes to look down and see Frankie already hovering over your chest with one hand, looking up to your face to ask permission. “Can I touch you darlin’? I want to make you feel good.”

His chest explodes with excitement at your eager nod, capturing your bottom lip with his teeth as his hand connects to your breast, immediately finding the hardened nipple and swiping his thumb back and forth over it. He groans when your hips move again, squeezing your hip tighter and listening to you squeak in surprise. “Fuck, I’ve wanted you forever baby. Couldn’t you tell?” He moans, pushing your robe off your shoulders and onto the ground, moving your shirt to sit up above your chest so he can wrap his lips around one nipple and then the other. 

You lean your head back, whimpering at the sight of him attached to you. Your hands find purchase in his hair, yanking slightly to hear him groan, popping off of your chest to kiss and lick up your neck to bite at your ear. “So fucking pretty baby, do you want me? Can I check?”

You nod again, attaching your lips quickly to his. “Please, Frankie.” 

He feels like he has lost his mind, running one calloused hand down your stomach and watching goosebumps appear in its path as he sinks two fingers into your underwear. The heat coming from your clothed center has him panting again, his fingers lightly separating your lips to search for your entrance, dragging up to your clit and down again. His eyes look up to yours, mouth open as he does another swipe back and forth. “Holy shit, you’re fucking drenched for me.” 

You smirk quickly, hearing the awe and confusion in his voice. “Of course, I am, Frankie. I want you.”

It was like he hadn’t put two and two together, pausing his fingers to look closer at your face. He couldn’t comprehend it fully. “Are you sure we aren’t just stoned?”

“We only had a couple of puffs Frankie but if you want to wait until the morning and ask me again then I guess we can.” You winced slightly at the thought, not wanting to stop the feeling of his hands on you, his fingers pleasuring you…

Suddenly he sinks his index finger in to you, watching as your breath catches and eyes close. “I want you as long as you want me baby.” He whispered, leaning forward to kiss your neck and bite into your collarbone, listening to your whine and whimper around his finger. 

He added a second, reaching his thumb to the front of you to move your clit back and forth. Your legs were already starting to shake, wanting to cum already. He paused his hand, reaching up to the back of your neck to pull you to him and kiss you again. “Take off your shorts.”

You shoved away from him, quickly shucking your shorts and underwear in one go and removing your shirt while he unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down to his knees before getting impatient and pulling his shirt off as well. You reached forward, getting on your knees to pull his pants the rest of the way down as he groaned. Seeing you on your knees did something to him, but it wasn’t what he wanted right now. “You better get back up here, sweets. I want you on my lap today.”

You were practically purring as you stood back up, kicking his pants and boxers to the side as he reached for your hips again and pulled you into him. His lips were on yours instantly, hips jutting up to have you feel how hard he was against your center. 

He moaned as you moved your hips so that he was sliding between your lips, the head of his cock slipping past your clit over and over, teasing your entrance with every move. He looked down to watch you work, tightening his grip on your hips enough to tilt his own slightly and surprise you as the head of him caught at your entrance and pushed in. He closed his eyes, needing to concentrate on not finishing too soon, already pushed to the hilt without even trying because of your movements. 

You gripped his shoulders roughly, nails digging into the pale skin there as you adjusted. “Holy shit–Frankie, fuck you feel amazing.”

That made him open his eyes, gently reaching up to your jaw to cradle your face and lean in again. He kissed you slowly, letting you relax around him and taking his time to savor your mouth. He pulls away with a pop, hand gliding down your arm to your hand and moving it to his chest. His heart was beating rapidly, letting you feel how overwhelmed he really was. He watched you process his movements, eyes connecting with him one more time before he reached for your hips again to lift you slightly and back down. 

You both moaned, letting him do it again until you both found a rhythm with your hands on his chest, his hands on your hips and you both working together to find release. He grunted, watching your chest as you shifted over him and picked up his hips to meet yours more quickly. The tighter he squeezed you, the sharper his thrusts up, your body stilling above his as he took you from below. 

“You’re so perfect like this baby.” He panted. “Can’t stop fucking you. I can feel you tightening on me–” He paused his words long enough to pull you to him, forehead resting on his, chest to chest as he continued to piston his hips up into yours. “I want to watch you cum darlin’, all over me. Can you do that? Just like this?”

You nodded, feeling your sweat mix with his from the exertion as your moans became louder, his hands impossibly tight around your hip and back, holding you up. Your release began, your legs shaking and ready to give out but he continued to hold you, thrusting through your cries. “That’s it, honey, soak me. You are so fucking beautiful like this–” He groaned, his hips stuttering as you clenched around him tightly. 

He pulled you off of him quickly, ropes of his orgasm starting as he reached for himself and pumped between you. His mess reached your upper stomach and his as you tried sitting up to not spread it around more. 

You both were breathing heavily, his hand still wrapped around his cock at the base, your hands still on his shoulders. You stood on shaking legs, causing him to reach out to your arm to make sure you didn’t fall. “Hold on a second, don’t go running away.” He said quietly, pulling you back forward but not onto his lap again. “I’ll get a towel.” He mumbled, standing and walking to your bathroom. 

You watched him, completely bare as you were as you sat back on the couch and reached for the forgotten joint. You relit it, taking a larger puff than you had previously and setting it between your fingers as you reached for another Starburst. 

He returned with a towel, wiping at his stomach and having his softened member on display. You looked up to see him already looking at you with a smirk on his face at the joint between your fingers. You offered it to him as he leaned forward to kiss the top of your head and wipe at your abdomen. 

Instead, he took the unwrapped candy for your fingers, popping it in his mouth before you could protest. “You’re too sweet, baby.” He smiled, kissing your jaw before sitting next to you and taking the joint for another puff. 

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 7

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 7: Dirty Laundry

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 7.5k+

Content / Warnings: Reader POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting mention, alcoholism, lying, conflict avoidance, crying, female masturbation, unprotected piv sex, send nudes pls, hold the moan/secret sex, text message chains, movies, fluff, awkwardness, praise kink, daddy kink

Notes: I don't really have any notes! Just excited to share, I hope you like it.

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The first time you wake comes a result of Frankie clomping around the house as he gets ready. 

It used to annoy you, how loud he can be in the mornings. But you’ve come to find it kind of comforting. Each cupboard slam and heavy footfall serves as a reminder that you’re not alone. That you’re safe. 

You stay cocooned in your sheets while he goes about his noisy routine, eyes closed, cradled in that warm, fuzzy space between awake and not. Content. 

When he leaves, a high-contrast silence takes his place. The slow rhythm of your automatic breathing lulls you back to sleep. 

You’re surprised when your eyes flutter open at 10:34 AM. 

Thanks to your opaque curtains, the room is drenched in darkness, despite the daylight trying to sneak in through the cracks. You squint into the brightness of your phone screen and read the text messages that came in while you were sleeping, all about a half an hour apart starting at 7:00. 

> RORY:  > Good morning beautiful > How are you today?  > I get off work at 3 today, wanna do something?  > I miss you 

“Oh my god dude, chill out,” you scoff under your breath while typing a reply. 

< ME:  < Sorry, just woke up. < Yes! I’m cleaning today but that’s all I have planned. What’re you thinking?

He reads and responds immediately. 

> RORY:  > We can check out that trail by the lake? Grab a bite to eat afterwards? 

< ME: < Sure

> RORY:  > Pick you up at 3:30?

< ME:  < See you then 😘

You toss the phone aside and sit up, scrubbing your hands over your face. Your eyes burn when you grind your fists into them and welcome a big yawn that stretches your lungs’ limits. A spasm catches your breath, shoving out a fit of coughs that leave you a little winded. 

Yeah, go on a hike today, that will be fucking fun. 

When you tiptoe through the kitchen, you find the coffee pot still on from when Frankie ran it this morning. Your nose wrinkles at its contents. The stale brew will be muddy and unsatisfying, but you pour it into a mug with some half & half anyway. 

You settle into your spot on the old couch in your living room and pull the notebook out from under your arm. Between sips of terrible coffee, you jot down the nighttime thoughts still floating around your head. 

Hard time falling asleep. Kept thinking about puppies, thinking I should have adopted that dog last year. Regret. No nightmares I think. Woke up at 10:30, feel tired still. Don’t want to go on a hike with Rory, but I am an idiot who can’t say no to people. I would rather stay home and be alone. I want it to be 

You pause here, staring at the passage. 

A jolt skitters across your ribcage. Blood rushes to your face. You glance around self-consciously, then cross out the last two and a half sentences. A few moments go by before you decide it doesn’t seem like enough, so you cross it out again and again, scraping dark lines into the notebook paper until the sentiment beneath is unrecognizable. 

Then you drop the ballpoint of your pen a few lines below the redaction and start writing out your to-do list for the day. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter to yourself. 

Frankie’s damp clothes stick to the circumference of your washer’s stainless steel drum. The rank scent that emanates from the machine reminds you of your grandparents’ house in the summer. 

With a sigh, you empty your dirty laundry on the floor of the mudroom and pull his clean clothes from the dryer into your basket, replacing them with the damps, then replacing those with your dirties. En route to his bedroom, with your laundry basket propped on one hip, you text him. 

< ME: < I stg you leave your clothes in the washer dryer on purpose so I’ll fold them 

He must be on his lunch break, because he texts back right away. 

> FRANKIE:  > I would never 😉 

The door opens with a creak when you step through the threshold, dropping your basket on the floor next to his bed. You take a selfie from the middle of the room and send it to him along with your response. 

< ME:  < K well I’m gonna lick all your stuff after putting away your clothes 

> FRANKIE:  > Promise? 

< ME: < Shut up lol 

> FRANKIE: > You look cute btw 

Heat floods your cheeks. A smile spreads across your face as you fall back into his bed. The musk woven between the threading of his sheets tugs at you. Your skin tingles with want, and you find yourself pulling the covers over your body and burying your face in his pillow. 

The phone buzzes beside you. 

> FRANKIE:  > Feel free to take a nap or do whatever you want in there

You sit up and whip your head around, then text back. 

< ME:  < Are you watching me 

> FRANKIE:  > Are you in my bed? 

< ME:  < … what if I was?

> FRANKIE:  > I wouldn’t mind one bit  > What are you doing in there?

< ME: < It’s comfy, I’m laying down 

> FRANKIE: > Can I see?

Your stomach flips. The warmth in your face spreads, sprouting up all over your body. You lick your lips and smirk, then open the camera and take a picture of yourself and send it to him. 

> FRANKIE:  > Wow 😍 > I’m going back to work. See you later tonight, sweetheart 

You start and erase about five variations of a response before just locking your phone screen and slamming it down at your side. Your hands fly to your face. All your organs melt and pool hot between your thighs. 

Fuck, you hate that he can make you feel like this. 

… but you love it, too. 

It’s intoxicating. 

You know him well enough to know that, throughout his day, whether he’s tinkering around in some commercial airplane, or running diagnostic tests, or chatting with coworkers, he will be thinking about you. Wondering what you’re doing. Hoping that when he arrives home there will be a spot in his sheets marked unmistakably yours. 

He always held a particular fascination with you touching yourself, a fact proven true last week when he got off watching you masturbate. 

The memory pricks your skin. Your squeaky mattress. The exchange of gasps and whimpers and moans. His lust-blown eyes, all wild and black as they watched you. 

Even before that, though. 

When you were working for him, he would sometimes text you specific locations in his house, asking you to masturbate there, send him pictures, and leave your panties. Of course, you were happy to oblige. 

There were a few times when he had you choose a place to fuck yourself. You gave him three clues, and if he guessed the location correctly, that’s where he would fuck you when he got home. 

One Saturday night, you were watching Sarah while he and Angie went out on a date. He texted you exactly one minute after Sarah’s bedtime. 

> FRANKIE: > Baby in bed? 

< ME:  < Yeah 

> FRANKIE: > Good > Can you do something for me?

< ME: < Maybe, what?

> FRANKIE:  > Go in my upstairs bathroom and take off that pretty dress > Film yourself getting off in the mirror  > Then send it to me 

< ME:  < Where are your manners sir 

> FRANKIE:  > Pretty please 😘

So you did. You tiptoed into the bathroom and pulled your dress off over your head, which is all the effort it took to strip down to a red thong. You stood in front of the huge vanity mirror and pressed record. 

When they came home, Frankie ushered an extremely inebriated Angie to their bedroom. He emerged a few minutes later and coaxed you into the bathroom. Between heated, whiskey-soaked kisses, he told you, “We have to be quiet.”

You nodded and raked your fingers through his hair, responding to his urgent mouth with your own. He locked the bathroom door and dug his phone from his pocket, propping it up on the bathroom counter before he pressed play. 

You pulled your dress off, watching his reflection in the vanity mirror for telltale signs of him being shitfaced. A stumble or slur. Compared to other nights where he spent hours at the bar, he seemed fine, which was a relief. 

From his phone, you heard your own whimper. You looked down and watched the past you, video you, flick your wrist beneath the cover of your underwear. 

His belt clanked as he undid his pants, pulling your attention back to his reflection. You met his eyes through the mirror and watched the darkness in them churn. He slid your thong aside, head of his cock nudging against your entrance. 

A rasp tickled your ear, “Look at you, the dirty little movie you made me—what were you thinking about?”

Your gaze dropped to the video. To video you grabbing your tits and biting your lips. He plunged forward, splitting you open, pulling a gasp from your lips, “Ffffuck—”

“Thinking about fuck?” 

He started to roll his hips, driving his cock into you, slow and deep. Pleasure rippled up your spine. Video you slid your thong off and showed the camera your pussy. 

Your lips parted to answer his question, but the words caught in your throat. It felt so wrong to tell him. He grabbed your shoulder and pulled your body against his, snapping his hips, pumping into you with sharp, hard movements.

“Holy fuck, Frankie—”

“Tell me what you were thinking about when you were playing with your pussy.”

“This,” you breathed, arching your back into his thrusts, each one a heatwave across your body, “You fucking me—trying to be quiet—trying to be a good girl—”

“You’re doing so fucking good, baby,” he purred, “Can’t get enough of this sweet pussy—drives me fucking crazy, Jesus Christ.”

Little whimpers and gasps started wriggling up your throat. Your eyebrows threaded together and lips parted with a croaked, “Frankie—”

“Fuck yes, baby, take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fucking you harder, faster, repeating under his ragged breath, “Take it, take it, take it.”

His cock rubbed along all the right parts of you, sending your pulse racing, adrenaline spiking when you remembered Angie asleep in the other room while he was there with you, dark gaze flicking between your video playing on his phone and your body bouncing off of him. 

Your whimpers morphed into moans, immediately muffled by his warm, rough palm. 

“Gotta be fucking quiet, sweetheart,” he panted in your ear, “I know it’s hard but you gotta do that for me, ok? Can you be a good girl for me, be quiet?”

You nodded. Calmed your moans into frenzied breaths. Lowered your gaze to the phone screen, where video you sank two fingers into your cunt and moaned, fucking yourself, just for him. 

“That’s it,” he panted, wrapping his arms around your torso to hold you in place as he fucked up into you, hot breath heating the crook of your neck, “Fuck, that’s it, such a good girl for daddy, hmm?”

You couldn’t help the choked moan that escaped you. 

“Say it, say you’re such a good girl for daddy—”

“I’m such—such a good girl for daddy.”

“Fuuuuck yes,” he groaned, one hand finding your clit, drawing frantic circles that flooded your body with a gooey, electric, pulsing energy, “Pussy so tight, feels so fucking good, fuck—”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, pushing against his thrusts, nodding your head, “Daddy I’m gonna fucking cum—”

“Holy fuck—that’s it, sweet girl, cum on daddy’s dick, you can do it.” 

You lost yourself, forgetting all about the concession to be quiet—whining and moaning as your bodies slid together with this sick, wet, sucking noise—consumed by the throbbing fire at your center, amplified with each snap of his hips, with his dirty little praises whispered in your ear, cock filling you again and again until you couldn’t fucking handle it anymore and your pleasure reached a fever pitch. 

Frankie released a deep, guttural moan as you clenched down, pussy fluttering around his length, white hot static vibrating across your body. 

He plunged into you once, twice, three more times with a shudder, spilling inside you. 

“Holy shit,” you panted, collapsing forward onto the bathroom counter. His grip softened and he went slack against your back. A few blissful moments went by like this before the spell broke. 

“God, I wish you could stay,” he told you in a breathy murmur, pressing a kiss into your bare shoulder, “Wish I could wake up with you.” 

And it sounded sweet on the surface, but you knew it was your cue to leave. 

You think about it now. 

About Frankie, and the video that you sent him while he was on a date with his wife. How she was under the same roof when the two of you fucked in the bathroom. How he had you call him daddy, and how you were such a good girl for him. 

You think about how it is between you now, how good it would feel to give in to those reckless desires and fuck like you used to. 

Your touch trails down between your legs as you imagine him here in the bed with you, cooing filthy things in your ear, rubbing your clit, laying heated kisses on your neck. 

You grab your breast and pretend it’s him squeezing your flesh. Imagine his soft lips around your nipple, the roll of his tongue against it. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, rolling your hips into your hand. 

A whimper bubbles through your lips and the brazenness of it stokes your insides. Another whimper, this one louder. Tingles shoot up your middle. 

You drag your fingers along your slit, moaning at the puddle of arousal pooling at your entrance, spreading it, coating your pussy in the slick substance. 

“So fucking wet,” you gasp, gripping your tit harder, imagining Frankie there, touching you, watching you with awe, telling you how fucking good you’re doing. 

Your fingers move faster, sliding easy against your lubricated nub, and you release a throaty moan, “So fucking good, daddy, you make me feel so good.“

The words out loud jolt your insides. You think: What if he saw me like this? What if he heard me? What if he knew I still fantasize about him? 

A burst of feral energy overtakes you and you crawl up onto your knees, pulling your loose cotton shorts and underwear aside so your cunt is exposed to the room. You work one hand hard and fast against your clit. The other sinks two fingers inside you.

You roll your hips, fucking your hand, moaning out, “Fuck yes, Frankie, fuck me just like that, so fucking good, daddy, you’re gonna make me cum—”

Uttering the words out loud electrifies you. Heat churns beneath your touch, growing brighter and hotter as your wanton moans hit his bedroom ceiling. Pleasure starts to swell and your movements grow frantic, desperate, chasing that feeling as you whine, “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

You convulse around your fingers and gasp, twitchy prods of pleasure gushing at your center each time your slick fingers graze your clit, slowing as the waves ebb into a fuzzy kind of bliss that occupies your whole body. 

You fall back in his bed, chest heaving, and try to gain your bearings. 

Shame starts to creep at the edges of your post-orgasm fog. Without prompting, your brain tells you: I hate myself. 

It stings. 

You gulp and shake your head, whispering out loud, “I love myself.” 

The correction soothes your hindbrain’s outlash enough for you to release a content sigh. A smile creeps across your face. You blink over at Frankie’s dresser, then rise to your feet and start folding his clean clothes. 

As you tuck the folded clothes away in his dresser drawers, you find the underwear he snatched from your bedroom last week. Teal lace, all stiff with his dried cum. 

You chuckle to yourself and shake your head. That familiar, reckless kind of satisfaction spreads through your veins. 

It’s fucked up, but the thought of him getting off on the scent of you fills you with pride. 

This is rocky territory. More than rocky, honestly. It’s dangling-off-a-cliffside-while-your-grip-is-slipping territory. 

You both know it. It’s like neither of you can help it. Over and over, you fall back together like opposite poles of a magnet. 

Are you drawn to each other because there’s something real? Or is it because of the thrill? 

You remind yourself that there is something more between you and Frankie than sexual desire. 

You laugh together, support each other, and enjoy your shared time. The bond you’ve formed is genuine. He has come to be one of your best friends. Second only to your sister, Leah. 

There’s a softness when you’re with him, too. A saccharine kind of intimacy that curls around your body and makes you feel at home. It has always existed between you, even if he never admits it. He used to push it away, but more and more, it’s become commonplace when you’re together. 

You swallow hard and shake your head, finding that you’re still staring at these cum-encrusted panties. You know Frankie won’t be able to bring himself to throw them in with the rest of his laundry. That would mean washing your scent, throwing your gift away. 

A little flint of arousal sparks at the base of your spine. 

After dropping the teal lace into your laundry basket, you shimmy your shorts and underwear down your legs, then wipe yourself off with the gusset of your floral cheeky bikini. You shove them into his dresser drawer in place of the spent pair. 

Two flimsy cardboard boats slide out onto the "PICK-UP HERE” window’s ledge. A booming voice follows, “Order number 32!”

Rory glances down at his receipt, then tucks it in his pocket as he steps through the crowd of hungry onlookers and approaches the rusted-out food truck. He returns holding one basket in each hand, a victorious smile dawning on his face, “Where should we sit?” 

You squint around your surroundings and spot a shaded patch of grass beneath the gnarled trunk of a buttonwood tree, then point to it, “Ooh, over here!” 

“Got it!” 

Rory jogs ahead and lands on the grass before anyone else can claim the spot. You catch up a few seconds later and sit down next to him, crossing your legs. He hands you your shrimp tacos and you murmur a thanks to him while balancing the basket on your knee. 

Under the eaves of the buttonwood tree, you find relief from the unrelenting sun. Your skin, all heated and gleaming with sweat, thanks you profusely. The cool earth somehow feels icy against your palms when you lean back and stretch out. You pull your sunglasses up on your head and tilt back to look up through the twisted branches of the tree, “Fuck, it’s hot out.”

You’re never really sure how to start conversations with him.

“Yeah,” he follows your gaze up into the tree, quickly losing interest. A deep breath expands his lungs as he looks around the park, finally settling his gaze on a playground, “You ever take the kids you babysit out here to play?” 

Your nose wrinkles a bit when he calls you a babysitter. You follow his line of sight to and watch hordes of squealing, laughing children crawl all over the playground. 

“Not this park, but I take them to the one by their house. It has a splash pad and this playground with water features. They love it, it’s pretty cool.” 

He nods. 

“When I worked for Frankie and his wife, I took their daughter, Sarah, here a lot. She was still just a little squish, but, you know, there are all these trails with cool trees and there’s the lake, and another playground further down that-a-way.” 

You point to your left. He doesn’t seem to care much about what you’re saying, but asks, “Is that a job you see yourself having long-term?” 

It’s a question you’re familiar with answering. Always tainted with judgment, insinuating that your job is that of bored teenagers trying to make a buck over the summer. 

“Yep,” you tell him with a close-lipped smile, tilting your head as you wait for him to say more.

“How will that work when you have kids? Do you want to be a stay-at-home mom, or will you bring the kid with you, or what?” 

With a shrug, you tell him, “Figure I’ll see where I’m at when the time comes and go from there.”

Rory hums and nods, brow furrowing at the ground like he’s soaking this in, then he says, “It’s nice that you do that. I like that you’re a caretaker.” 

It takes you by surprise. His gaze meets yours and you smile at each other for a moment. 

“Thanks,” you say and bring your attention to the boat of shrimp tacos resting on your knee, finding them cooled down enough to eat. 

After finishing your food, you and Rory start off towards his vehicle, hand-in-hand. The trail winds by the playground you were watching from afar. Like playgrounds often are, it’s total chaos. Children screaming, running, climbing, crying. 

You spot one little girl sitting in the sand, digging a hole between her splayed legs. She seems oblivious to the world around her. The dark ringlets dangling around her cherub face wiggle as she talks to herself, eyebrows raising expressively like the one-sided conversation is intensely interesting. 

She must feel you watching her, because her spine straightens and she looks around. When her dark brown eyes meet yours, her face lights up in recognition, and she squeals your name. 

You stop in your tracks and can’t restrain the wide smile from spreading across your lips, “Sarah!” 

Aside from the brief glimpse you caught of her the day Frankie moved in, and the grocery store shortly after, you haven’t seen her in over a year. She’s grown so much. Her chunky, wobbly baby legs have elongated and grown more capable, allowing her to run towards you, arms outstretched. 

When she reaches you, you scoop her up, twirling her around as you give her a big hug, “How are you, sweetheart? I missed you!” 

Sarah squeals with delight and says, “Missed you!” 

A cool rush of panic spreads across your skin when you look around and ask, “Where are your parents, sweetie?” 

“I’m digging a hole!” 

“Oh wow, you’re digging a hole?” you laugh and shift her onto your hip as you continue to study the sea of faces, ears growing hot when you remember Rory standing behind you. The last time you saw Angie, she insulted you in broad daylight. How the fuck would you explain that to Rory if it happens again?

“Hey!”

The familiar voice is sharp with outrage. Frankie’s hand grips your shoulder and spins you around to face him. His chest is heaving, jaw clenched, eyes aflame with fury. 

You have never seen him like this. 

Your eyes widen and you hold your palm up to him, “Just me, sorry!” 

He studies your face, still red-hot anger, then it seems to come into focus for him. His shoulders relax with a relieved exhale, then his features soften and grow apologetic, “Oh, hey.” 

You bring your hand back to your hip to support the weight of Sarah and chuckle, “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“No, no, it’s ok.” 

“We were just walking, and, umm,” you gesture back at Rory, trailing off when you see Angie approaching, arms crossed, beautiful face squared off in a stern expression. 

Frankie’s gaze flicks to Rory and he gives a nod of recognition before returning his attention to Sarah, “Did you see your friend and go to say hi?”

Sarah smiles sweetly and nods, then starts wiggling to be put down. You grant the request, lowering her to the ground and letting her go. She gallops back to her hole in the sand, while you call behind her and wave, “Bye, Sarah!” 

Your face scrunches up into a wince when you meet Frankie’s eyes again, and you shrug, “Sorry.” 

“Don’t sweat it,” he waves you off with a smirk. 

“Hey,” Angie greets, surprisingly calm. Her fingers curl around Frankie’s bicep and she blinks at you. 

“Hi, Angie,” you give a nervous nod, plastering on a smile that’s too eager, “I was just passing by with my, um,” you swallow hard and turn to Rory, waving him forward, “My boyfriend, Rory.”

Your voice is shaky. This is a nightmare. 

Rory’s arm wraps around your waist from the side and he gives a polite wave, “Hi.” 

“This is Angie Morales, Frankie’s wife,” you tell him. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Rory smiles and extends a hand to her. Angie says nothing, just shakes his hand while wearing this Mona Lisa smile and steps back beside her husband. 

The silence that follows is painful. 

“Ok, well, sorry again for the scare,” you sigh, looking down at your feet, “It was really nice to see Sarah, I miss her a lot.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Frankie says, and you look up to see his brow knit together, dark eyes all apologetic, “I’ll see you at home, yeah?” 

You nod at the ground, then tell Angie, “Good to see you.” 

She raises an eyebrow and laughs at this. It feels like a slap. You suppose it’s better than her screaming insults at you, though. Or, like, a real slap. 

When you turn and walk away, Rory’s hand finds yours again. His grip is warm and steady, and he frowns over at you, “You ok?” 

You forgot to adjust your face. The pain bubbling up inside you must be obvious. Traitorous tears spring to your eyes, thankfully hidden behind the dark of your sunglasses. You clear your throat and nod, “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

It sounds watery and false. 

“Hey,” he stops walking to turn towards you, “What’s wrong?” 

You shake your head and sniffle, “Nothing, I’m fine.” 

He raises his eyebrows, searching your face, “Really?” 

Your teeth catch your tongue. Dull pain wells up in each section of the soft muscle you clamp down on, providing a microscopic release. With a deep breath, you look down at your feet and shrug, “I just—I guess I missed her more than I realized.” 

“Come here,” Rory murmurs, ushering you into a hug. You oblige. His body seems to awkwardly wrap around you, but it brings you a small dose of comfort. Even if he doesn’t feel or smell like home. 

“What’s the deal with his wife, why did she seem mad?” 

Fuck. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice, or ask. 

“She, um… she thinks I stole something from her,” you tell him, “That’s why I don’t work for them anymore.” 

Misleading, sure, but not entirely a lie. 

He hums, rubbing your back, “You care about her a lot, huh? The little girl?”

“Yeah,” you croak. A few tears spring from your eyes. You squeeze your eyelids shut and wish them away. 

Rory kisses your hair and gives you a tight squeeze, “Should we keep going?” 

You sniffle and pull back from his embrace, flashing him a tight smile as you nod, “Yeah.” 

When Frankie comes home, you’ve already resigned to your room for the night, content to wallow in self-pity you have no right to feel. 

His footsteps creak against the floorboards as he makes his way through the kitchen, into the hallway outside your room. A knock comes at the door. 

You sigh and pout to yourself, then call out, “Come in.” 

Frankie opens the door and hovers in the threshold. You pause Stardew Valley and look over from your laptop, raising your eyebrows in question. 

“Hey,” he says, puppy dog eyes in full force, crossing his arms, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know.”

He hums and studies you for a moment, shifting his weight into the doorframe, “Earlier was… It was weird, right?” 

Your eyelids flutter. You shrug, “She didn’t call me a slut this time, which was… nice.” 

He chuckles at this. You don’t crack a smile. 

When your lack of amusement registers to him, he clears his throat and pushes off of the door frame. He makes his way around the bed and sits down on the opposite side, scooting close to you. You roll your head on your shoulders and watch him reach out to touch you, then decide against it, fingertips curling onto his lap instead. 

“Look, I’m really sorry,” he says finally, but doesn’t look at you. 

“For what?”

“I know you miss Sarah. And I know my reaction earlier was—was,” he sighs and shakes his head, “It wasn’t great.” 

“Frankie, you thought I was a abducting your child—”

“I mean after that,” he turns to you now, sincerity etched in his features, “I could have let you hang out with her, or been nicer or something, I don’t know. I just—I know, in my gut, that I could have done better. And… I’m sorry.” 

An ache of affection spreads across your chest. You reach out and rest your hand on his forearm, thumb grazing his skin as you search his face, “I appreciate that, thank you.” 

A small, relieved smile graces his lips. He nods, “Of course.” 

Then he seems to relax a little, leaning back onto one elbow as he squints at your laptop screen, “Whadda you have going on here?” 

“Exploring caves, fighting monsters.” 

“Sounds nerdy,” he teases, “Figures you’d like it.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” you laugh and give him a playful shove, “You think I’m a nerd?” 

“Maybe,” he grins. 

You scoff and shoot him a mock glare, “On what grounds?” 

He frowns, looking up at the ceiling like he’s thinking about it, then shrugs, “Basically just this, but you’re cute when you’re all riled up.” 

“Wow,” you laugh, covering your face as it heats up, “So rude.” 

He grins and lays back in your bed like he’s making himself at home here, so you join him, resting your head on his shoulder. His cheek presses into the crown of your head. You resume playing Stardew Valley. 

Some time passes like this, cuddling with him while he idly plays with your hair, asking you questions about the game like he’s interested. When the sun sets and you both start yawning at regular intervals, you tuck the laptop away in your nightstand. Frankie doesn't move. 

You return to your pillow and roll on your side to face him, tucking your hands under your cheek. He mirrors the action, just a foot or so away. His warm gaze works around your face and he murmurs, “Do you want me to go?”

It’s so quiet you can hear your pulse pounding through your arteries. 

“Not really.” 

A small smile flicks across his lips. He looks down at his clothes, “Do—do you mind if I, um…”

“What, you don’t wanna wear jeans to bed?” you snort. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, “They’re not great pajamas.” 

“Go change, I gotta wash my face and stuff anyway,” you yawn, rolling onto your back, stretching your arms into the air. 

The two of you go about your bedtime routines. When you return to your room, Frankie is laying on top of the covers, arm tucked behind his head as he scrolls on his phone. He changed into gray basketball shorts and his old, worn out Metallica t-shirt. 

“That shirt is gonna crumble into dust one of these days,” you tease while plugging your phone into its charger. 

He sets his phone down and looks at his shirt, then grins up at you, “Until it does, I’ll be wearing it.” 

You shake your head at him, peeling back the covers with shaky hands. He sits up and wriggles between your sheets as you turn off your bedside lamp and crawl in beside him. 

For a few moments, it’s just quiet in the dark. Neither of you move or say anything. You imagine he’s staring at the ceiling with tingling nerves just like you, filled with uncertainty and fear and want. Not sure what the “line” even looks like anymore because it’s been blurred so much it’s indistinguishable. 

Every other time you’ve fallen asleep together since he moved in, it could be chalked up as either accidental or, like when you were sick, necessary. Excusable if brought forth as evidence by others, or each other, or yourselves. 

But this is different. 

It’s intentional. No plausible deniability in sight. Heat blooms in your chest and between your legs. He feels so far away. 

“Frankie.” 

“Hmm?”

“Would it be weird if I asked you to hold me?” 

He lets out an amused scoff. The bed squeaks and shifts as he rolls on his side as you scoot closer to each other. His hands find you under the covers and he pulls your back to his chest, tucking one arm under your head while the other wraps around your belly. 

“It’s not weird,” he murmurs, pausing for a second before saying, “It should be, but it isn’t.” 

This makes you smile. It’s a relief to hear him say it. You relax into his embrace and rest your arm atop his at your waist. 

The darkness surrounding the two of you seems to hold space for honesty. It’s that sort of feeling you got at sleepovers when you were younger, when you and your friends would whisper secrets to each other in the dark. 

“I have nightmares sometimes,” you tell him. 

“I know.” 

You know he knows. He’s been there to wake you from them and calm you down in their wake at least a dozen times. Regardless, there’s this buzzing under your skin like you need to tell him. 

“I can never remember what happens except—except, um,” you blink your eyes open and swallow the thickness in your throat, shaking your head, “There’s this feeling, like… I know that he’s chasing me, and if he catches me, I’m never going to escape.” 

His body seems to tense a little. He looks down at you, “Who?” 

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” 

You can feel the question occupying his tightened muscles, and say, “It’s not you.” 

“But if you don’t know—”

“It started before you,” you lace your fingers with his, letting your eyelids drift shut, “And, besides, I don’t feel like that with you. I feel… safe.” 

He relaxes around you with a sigh that sounds like relief. 

“When I lived alone it was hard. I’d wake up alone and scared, and I couldn’t fall back asleep,” you murmur, “But it’s been better lately.” 

He hums. The noise vibrates against the nape of your neck. His thumb brushes against your midriff. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you admit, “I guess… I just want you to know it’s nice having you here.” 

The wet swallow of his throat makes you start to worry you said too much, that you showed too much belly. You brace for him to pull away. But when his voice breaks the silence, it sounds raspy and damp. Heartfelt. 

“You don’t think I’m a burden?” 

You almost laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s ridiculous.  

“Not even a little. I’m happy to have you.” 

“I’m happy to be here, mariposa.” 

The nickname stings a little. A sharp, precise prick to the center of your chest. But his arms squeeze around you tighter, bringing you closer to his warmth. 

Your lips curve into a slight smile and you feel the tug of drowsiness on your limbs. 

“No funny business back there tonight, Franklin,” you mumble out, your words fuzzy with fatigue. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nuzzles into your hair, his own voice groggy and low, “Best behavior.” 

That warm, soft intimacy settles deep in your bones and makes you feel at ease. Safe. Loved. And it’s not long at all before sleep overtakes you.

Your Friday nights used to be synonymous with drinking. 

It meant going out to the bar to get drunk and dance and maybe find another lonely soul to spend time with. It meant blackouts and bar tabs and spending your Saturdays absolutely fucking miserable. 

Truth be told, you much prefer your new Friday night ritual: Movie Night. 

You and Frankie each get to pick any movie you want and stuff your faces while watching them back-to-back. After work, you pick him up from his AA meeting and load up on junk food, then head home. 

Tonight, the two of you walk side-by-side down aisle 5 of your neighborhood grocery store, moving at a leisurely pace across the glossy white tiles. A country music station broadcasts softly over the store’s speakers. From the cash registers up front, you hear the rhythmic beep of customers being rung up. Probably the only other people in here, honestly, it’s fucking dead. 

“What’s your movie pick?” Frankie asks while tossing a bag of classic potato chips into the red basket hanging from the bend of his elbow, “And I swear to god if you say Moulin Rouge! I’m instituting a no-repeat policy.” 

Your laughter ricochets down the aisle and you shake your head, “Don’t act like you don’t like that movie! I know you do.” 

“I mean yeah, but… there are other movies.” 

“Other… movies…?” 

He snorts and shakes his head at you. 

“Actually, I wanna watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” you tell him, slowing to narrow your eyes at a bag of salt and vinegar kettle chips, “Do I want pretzels or salt and vinegar chips?” 

“Why not both?” he shrugs. 

You scrunch your nose up, tossing your head from side-to-side, then grab the kettle chips and drop them into your basket, “What’s your movie pick?”

“I’m between Dazed and Confused and The Wolf of Wall Street,” he says, glancing over at you. 

Your face lights up and you coo, “Ohhh Dazed and Confused, please!”

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” 

He grins at you and shrugs, “I will take your opinion into consideration.” 

“What, I can’t help you choose?” 

“It’s my pick,” Frankie chuckles, “You can’t pick my pick!” 

You roll your eyes at him. The two of you round the corner, merging into the vacant main aisle, and you say, “Fuck, I want ice cream.”

“I want a fucking drink,” he mutters offhandedly, then notices your concerned stare and says, “Sorry.” 

“Do you really?” 

His brow furrows as he considers this, eventually admitting, “In a way, yeah.”

You know you shouldn’t take it personally. He’s an alcoholic. But that rationale doesn’t stop the ache that spreads across your chest. 

Frankie must recognize your hurt, because he nudges you and adds, “Not because I don’t like this or anything.”

You give him a warm, reassuring smile as you turn down the freezer aisle. He continues. 

“It just lingers, I guess. Like I think I could drink and be fine,” he comes to a stop in front of the ice cream, glancing around before staring forward into the freezer like it holds all the answers, “Everything is just so… raw without it. All the feelings I’ve never dealt with, they keep bubbling up and it’s—I don’t know, it’s a lot.” 

It surprises you that he’s talking about this so openly, in a public place and everything. Two months ago you could not have dragged these words from his mouth under any circumstances. 

You nod as you study him, “Well, um… I know it’s hard, but I’m glad you’re doing it.”

He doesn’t really react, just continues to look at the ice cream. His eyes are a million miles away, though. Lost in thought. You lay your hand on his shoulder and graze your thumb against him, “Francisco.”

His jaw tightens. 

“Hey, look at me.” 

He blinks a few times, then swings his gaze to meet yours. 

“I mean it. It’s been a pleasure getting to know the real you, in all your, uhhh,” you stop and try to come up with something eloquent, landing on, “sober glory. I know it’s a lot. But I can see that it’s making a huge difference. You’re so far beyond where you started. It’s… it’s really brave to choose sobriety. I’m proud of you, Frankie.” 

It all kind of spills out of you. A collage of sentiments you’ve been keeping to yourself thrown crudely together here in the middle of the freezer aisle. 

His brow creases, eyes all dewy as they flick around your face. You worry that what you said doesn’t make sense, or that maybe it was insensitive. But then, his basket falls to the floor with a clatter and he pulls you into a hug. 

Again, you’re taken by surprise. 

You just stand there for a moment, kind of awkward with your basket dangling in one hand. 

He squeezes you tighter. Unbridled appreciation flows from him. Your stomach flutters and tears prick your eyes. You drop your basket to properly return the gesture, wrapping both arms around his torso, pulling him close. 

The warmth of his body surrounds you. You take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting musk of his skin, exhaling tension, melting into this softness. 

Frankie sniffles and kisses the crown of your head, murmuring into your hair, “Thank you.” 

You part ways, both taking a step back to see the others’ glossy, red-tinged eyes. 

And you’re not sure exactly why, but then you both laugh. Not in a nervous way. More like joy. It bubbles beneath your skin and makes you feel hopeful. 

He picks his basket up off the ground and clears his throat, turning back to the freezer door, “Anyway, ice cream.” 

When the end credits roll on Dazed and Confused, you stand up off the couch and start towards the kitchen, asking Frankie, “Need anything?” 

“I’m good, thanks,” he answers with a yawn. 

You pull open the cupboard and find a bag of popcorn, then toss it in the microwave. While you wait for it to pop, you check your phone. Three unread messages. 

> RORY: > Hey > How was work?  > Doing anything fun tonight? 

“Hey, I was thinking,” Frankie says as he shuffles past the dining room table, into the kitchen. You set your phone down on the counter and cross your arms, looking up at him. 

“Next week is Sarah’s birthday, Ang is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want me to see if she would let you come?” 

The question leaves you momentarily speechless. You never thought it would be a possibility, and the offer completely blindsides you. 

Your mouth gapes open and you blink, “I, um—well, I—”

“If you want to, I mean.” 

You frown and meet his eyes, “Well, yeah, obviously I want to, but is Angie really ok with that?” 

“I’ll talk to her,” he says, leaning back on the counter next to you, “She’s been more receptive lately. And—and I think if you brought Rory, she would feel more reassured, that, um…”

Your stomach drops like a rock. 

A clusterfuck of messy emotions tangle and twist inside your body. At the tip of your tongue sits the question: That, what, there’s nothing going on between us? 

You look over at him and search his face. It’s unreadable. He’s frozen like he knows he came dangerously close to mentioning the elephant in the room and doesn’t know what to do next. 

The air thickens. 

Moments go by that feel like centuries.

You can’t stand it anymore, and lead him to continue the thought, “That what?”

He turns to face you and looks fucking terrified. Forehead creased. Eyes wide. Lips parted like apologies are about to come spilling out of them. 

You hold his gaze. Try not to notice the pungent energy pulsing between your bodies, or the way his eyes soften when he looks at your mouth and takes a step towards you. 

For one heart-stopping moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

A beep sounds from the microwave. 

He looks to the source, trance broken, but your eyes stay trained on him. On the elongated bob of his throat swallowing nerves. On the restless, twitchy movements that suddenly seem to possess him. 

When he notices you’re still staring at him, he only allows a brief glance before dropping his gaze to the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets, finally saying, “I—I just mean that I think she’ll be ok with it. And—and Sarah would be excited to see you.”

You pause before you react, trying to decide whether or not to ask him the question tearing apart your insides like a rabid dog: Do you want me to go so I can see Sarah, or so you can continue to lie to your wife?

Simultaneously, you cannot ask him and you need to know.

You tell yourself: He’s in recovery. He needs support, not criticism. 

You say: Let him figure out the missing pieces in his life and put it back together. Even if the shape it takes breaks you. 

“Ok,” you give him a tight nod and push off the counter, pulling the microwave door open, “If she’s fine with it, I’d love to go.” 

“Yeah?”

You pinch the corner of your bloated popcorn bag and pull it out, nudging the microwave door closed, then turn to face him, but don’t look up, “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

A small, distant voice says: You fucking coward. 

[morallyinept]

I have covid and I’m just wondering how the Pedro boys would take care of you during covid :) Love what you do thanks!

Hey Non! 🖤

Aww, so sorry to hear you've got Covid. I hope you rest up and feel better soon! 🖤

Thanks so much for asking this, and I hope the Pedro Boys can make you feel somewhat better... enjoy! 🖤

Joel Miller - Joel would really want to take care of you, but he would keep his distance. This man has seen the end of the friggin’ world for Christ’s sake, and all the gross shit that comes with it. If he had to take care of you, it would be behind a thick screen of plexiglass and passing your food and meds to you through a hatch. Whilst wearing a Haz-Mat suit. Joel is so done with infections. And mushrooms. No mushroom soup for you, only chicken and noodle.

Ezra - Ezra would probably give you space leaving you enough water and Bitz Bars in his tent for you to take care of yourself whilst he proffers more of his coveted loot, Birdie. Returning later to periodically paw at you when he needs his dressing changed or just wants some sweet Kevva loving. It won’t bother him that you’ve got Covid and are all sweaty, until he catches it from you and ends up becoming the worst. Patient. Ever.

Marcus Pike - Marcus would climb into bed with you and give you all the cuddles, hold you through the fever shakes. He’d make you fresh homemade soup. He’d bring you extra-fluffy pancakes in bed with fruit and syrup and feed them to you patiently. He’d hold your hair back if you got sick and would wash you down in the bath with extra bubbles and candles. Even if he got sick himself, Marcus would still want to care and make a fuss over you.

Max Phillips - Max is the only Pedro Boy who would be immune to catching Covid due to, you know, being dead... But still, he wouldn't want you coughing up gunk all over his fancy, new suit. So he’d send you home until you’re fit enough to return to work and be his personal blood bag again.

Oberyn Martell - Covid wasn’t around during Oberyn’s time, however he’s seen a lot of illness and being royalty doesn't have to, or want to, deal with it. You’re no good to him in this sickly state. So your Prince has no real use for you until you’re fit, healthy and supple again for him to have you spread eagle in his chambers.

Frankie Morales - Frankie would likely get sick with you; the man’s immunity is probably wrecked anyway due to the coke, so you’d both be laid up in bed together moaning and groaning, and not the good kind of moaning and groaning either. But you can bet once he starts feeling better, he’ll want some sweet medicine and he’ll find it between your legs, hermosa. And you can bet it'll make you feel miles better too.

Dave York - Dave has no patience for sickness or germs, which is ironic because he has two children who are in the prime ages for getting all sorts of sicky bugs. But then he’s not at home much so he never gets sick. And he can’t tolerate all that needy, whiny crap either. The most Dave would do is to deliver you some meds and Kleenex and leave them on your front door step. Begrudgingly, of course.

Marcus Moreno - Another caregiver, Marcus would literally stop saving the world to make sure you're okay. To drop off some hot Thai soup to make you sweat it out, to get your prescription filled for you, to fluff your pillows, to smooch you on the pasty head. You name it. Anything you need, Marcus will be your hero, baby.

Javier Peña - Javier doesn’t do sickness. Period. He’s out catching a drug lord, you think he has time to tend to you, cariño? The man doesn’t have time to eat, let alone make sure you do. You’re on your own. You’ll only see Javier when you’re fully recovered and he’s skulking in at 2am ready to give you a fever of another kind…

Javi G - Javi G would take care of you and give you everything you could need and want when you're ill, but probably to the point it would become a little unbearable. You’d force yourself well just to get out of the Paddington movie marathon he puts on for the sixty-seventh time.

Maxwell Lord - A sick man himself, Max knows how bad Covid can feel, so he’d want to make sure you get well as quickly as possible. Even going so far as to wishing for it. But we all know how that went down. Step away from the dream stone, Max! Just make some hot honey tea instead, yeah?

Dieter Bravo - Dieter is probably the most over dramatic and tiresome patient when he is sick, and he really can’t deal with you being ill and not able to take care of him. He’d keep a distance, wearing several masks, slipping notes under the door to inform you that he doesn’t know how to work the timer on the oven so has been surviving on KitKats, or that the dishwasher has stopped working and there are now bubbles all over the kitchen floor… When you're better, you return to a chaotic house turned upside down and a very worse for wear looking Dieter surrounded in the mess.

Agent Whiskey - Known to get things done (as long as there isn’t a meat grinder around), Whiskey will want you ship shape and in good health as quick as possible, so he’ll tend to you, feed you, wipe up all the mucus and whip you back into shape quicker than a tornado in a trailer park, sugar. Whiskey wants you fit and well, it's the only way you'll be able to keep up with this handsome cowboy after all.

Silva - Tending to you gently, Silva will have you laid up in his bed all comfy, dabbing at your skin with a cool cloth whilst he tells you stories of a dreamy ranch life. He’ll watch you sleep in his rocker at the end of the bed, spoon feed you soup and run you a bath whenever you need, and will join you in it.

Din Djarin - Din would want you better, and so would The Kid. To the point that The Kid would just Jedi Mind Trick those Covidy germs right outta your system so you can carry on collecting those bounties with your tin can man. This is the germ-free way, Mesh'la.

Pero Tovar - Another hypochondriac when he gets unwell, Pero would be useless in taking care of you when you're sick. He’d grumble all the way through it and ultimately end up sick himself, resulting in you taking care of him whilst you’re still riddled with the ‘rona.

Comandante Veracruz - There’s no such thing as Covid on Veracruz’s agenda. He’ll shut that shit down right away. You won’t be sick on his watch, cariño. Nope. He won’t allow it. You got a job to do. So just get on and do it, lest you make the Comandante mad…

🖤

[prolix-yuy]

So if you’re feeling it, i would love a fic about Frankie’s first time as an escort…Thank you and love you lots💕

Mari my darling, this ask is sooooooo delicious! Especially because as much as we've alluded to Frankie's work, we haven't actually seen any of it yet. Though I'm gonna pull a little bit of a fast one on you in regards to the wording here, but I think you'll enjoy where it takes us.

Frankie's First Time

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!OC "Lily"

Summary: What was Frankie's first time like?

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, grinding, oral sex (f receiving), we are dedicating another 2k words to Frankie's kitty king skills, fingering (f receiving), safe PiV sex, a whisper of ass play, Frankie AND Lily's filthy mouths, watch me make up shit about sex work.

Notes: This was a blast to explore how Frankie "auditioned" for Pope's, and how he got the reputation we all know and love. I also got to explore things from Frankie's POV, so we get some insight into exactly why he's so competent in places. Even though Ms. J is sitting out this story, we know she's thanking Lily for her service well into the future.

Cross-posted on AO3

Sex Worker!Frankie AU Series Masterlist

He’s not sure if he’s supposed to knock on the chipped blue door or let himself in. The whole situation feels weird, like an audition for a play he never learned the lines for.

Well, at least the metaphor’s pretty accurate.

“Come in,” floats through the wood, answering his question, and with a deep breath and a turn of the knob Frankie steps into a whole new world.

She’s walking to greet him when he steps over the threshold, a bright smile on her face.

“Pope said you’d be punctual,” she says, one hand on her hip as she surveys him. Now that he’s here and actually doing this - really considering sex work - his jaw locks up and hands wipe nervously back and forth against his jeans. He nods quickly, grimaces a smile, and scuffles his feet on her doormat. 

“Oh, you are a cutie, you don’t need to be this worked up around me. I don’t bite,” she says, taking the last steps to rub her arms firmly up and down his biceps. Her touch is comforting, the raise of her eyebrows and nod a well-earned reward. “Let’s sit down and chat. Do you want water, coffee, iced tea?” She coaxes Frankie further into her apartment, waiting for him to toe off his boots with a mumbled apology before sitting him on her maroon couch. Leaving briefly, she returns with two iced teas. Frankie gulps his down fast enough to make her smirk.

“So you’re friends with Ironhead and Golden Boy? And Pope too, of course.” Frankie’s eyebrows knit together in confusion until he makes the connection.

“Will and Benny, yeah. Pope sent them to you too?” he asks, twisting the cup in his hands to give them something to do. 

“What can I say, I’ve got a lot of experience vetting the talent,” she quips back, turning to tuck her knees onto the couch and face Frankie more fully. He takes a moment to actually look at her more than quick glances. She’s pretty but in a way that’s disarming, a way of watching him that makes him feel like she knows his secrets but won’t share. Her chestnut hair flows over her shoulders in silky waves, complimenting her warm skin and umber eyes. He thought she’d be in some tight little tube dress but the lightweight tank top and shorts compliment her natural beauty with a realness Frankie didn’t know he craved. Her toes are painted baby pink.

“You’re making me nervous you swallowed your tongue, honey, can you tell me how you’re feeling right now?” she says, and Frankie coughs out a laugh. 

“Sorry, I’m feeling…shit, way out of my depth,” Frankie says, leaning forward to put down the glass. He remains hunched, head in his hands as he takes a deep breath.

“One step at a time, baby, let’s start off easy, okay?” she says, and that firm hand on his arm directs his attention back. “They call me Lily. Not my real name, you know. Will and Benny picked their own, you have one in mind?”

Frankie leans back and slaps his thighs.

“No idea, my call sign was Catfish but…nothing much else.” Lily laughs, and the noise is soothing to his frazzled nerves.

“Catfish it is. Was it the whiskers?” she asks, reaching over to scritch her fingers lightly into Frankie’s scruff. The touch is surprisingly welcome, her demeanor calming. He didn’t think he’d be ready to be touched yet.

“Long story. You don’t think that would weird out…uh, clients?” 

“Might make them more intrigued.”

Her hand moves to settle on his thigh, and the familiar stirrings of intimacy through touch rumble under Frankie’s skin. But it’s too fast, brings too much of the artifice of this situation to the forefront, and Frankie balks.

“So where are you from?” he says, voice booming in the small room. He winces at the volume, but Lily doesn’t move her hand.

“Colombia. Came over with a bunch of other girls.”

Frankie remembers this part of the story.

“One of Peña’s informants?”

“More or less.”

“But you’re still…?”

Lily scoots closer to him, and Frankie tries to relax into her proximity. She is pretty, long limbed and smooth skinned and smelling of sweet soap. 

“I get to do something I enjoy and I make money. And this is the nicest place I’ve ever worked, though much quieter than I’m used to.” She taps Frankie’s thigh to turn his attention back to her. “If you don’t think you’ll enjoy it, I would recommend you not start. It’s not easy. If you’re not looking forward to the good parts, the not-so-great ones will make you miserable.” 

Frankie nods, thumb worrying at the denim stretching across his thighs. 

“What are you afraid of happening?” Lily asks, and now her knee is pressed against his thigh. The tension starts to bleed out of his shoulders. She’s good, no wonder why she’s Santi’s best girl.

“It’s, ah…it’s a lot of things,” Frankie starts. She waits, her hand moving to stroke soothing circles. “What if someone finds out that I don’t want to know? And what do I do with the…clients? Like how do I plan out what they want or figure it out and what if they don’t like it? Or don’t like…me. Am I…” Frankie pauses and looks, really looks at Lily. “Would anyone actually want me? I get Will, and Benny. But I’m not…” 

The rest of Frankie’s concerns slide back down his throat as he sighs and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Lily lets the silence stretch for a moment longer.

“I’d recommend keeping the work between you and as few people as possible if you’re afraid of being found out, but it’s a risk you’re taking no matter what. A client could out you as much as a stranger.” Frankie hums and nods as she continues.

“As for what you do, Pope will give you some background. You’re not going in blind, which is a big plus to this setup. Are you taking all clients, or being selective?”

“I, uh…hadn’t thought about that. Probably women to start, and then…I’ll see.”

Lily’s lips curl at the corners.

“Full of surprises. Women can be hard if they don’t know what they want. Part of what we’ll do today is find your boundaries so Pope knows how to schedule your clients. If you don’t do men, he won’t give you any. If you might do something out of the ordinary if you have clear direction, he’ll talk it through with you. And if there’s something you’re very good at, you’ll be his go-to guy.” Lily’s fingers tap up his forearm thoughtfully. “We’ll find those things too. I’m a discerning lady, and if you’re good I’ll know.”

Frankie sighs and finally lets go of that last bit of tension holding him hostage.

“As for your last question…” Lily says, lifting up on her knees. “Can I sit on your lap, honey?”

Frankie’s eyes go wide, but he nods slowly at the request. Lily swings a leg over and settles on his lap, big hands going to her hips immediately. She smiles down at him and lets her fingers wander through his hair, tugging the Standard Oil cap off to free his curls.

“You’re worried they won’t want you, or like what you bring. But from my perspective, a broad-shouldered man with huge hands and the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen is underneath me, and if those big brown eyes are anything to go by, you’re a thorough, and attentive lover.” She swipes her thumb over his lips as he parts them. “When they open the door and see you standing there, big boy with soft eyes, their pussies are gonna throb.”

“Fuck,” Frankie breathes out, shuddering against her touch. 

“Soon enough,” she quips back. “First, ground rules. You never jump right into fucking. Always make sure you’re both clear on what she wants and how she wants it. Check in, make sure she’s not feeling pressured.”

“Of course,” Frankie says, confusion flitting across his face. “I thought everyone did that.”

“Oh sweetie, you are a slice of perfection,” Lily giggles, and Frankie’s hands tighten on her hips. 

“Take your time. Don’t rush it. You know how long she’s paid for, so give her every last moment. You might be the first person to ever give her undivided attention, and that will keep her coming back.”

“You ever get attached?” Frankie asks, his cock filling at her hot body pressing into his lap. Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult. He’s certainly having a good time with her now.

“Yes, once or twice. You redirect those emotions into something useful. Channel those feelings into care for the person. You love how happy you get to make them feel. You’re attracted to how they open up and trust you. You’re giving them a valuable service and you enjoy that.” 

Frankie rolls his hips below her, and she tugs his hair with a cheeky smile.

“Lastly, before I see what you bring to the table, always be safe. Condoms always. If she wants something risky, for herself or you, that hasn’t been discussed, you respect your boundaries. And you walk away if it’s getting out of hand. Pope will always have your back.”

“Okay,” Frankie murmurs, his eyes hooding as his gaze licks over her body.

“Now,” Lily says, her voice dropping into a sultrier register. “I’d like to kiss you, Frankie.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs back, tilting his head back for her descending lips.

She’s perfectly soft against his mouth, but firm as she cradles Frankie’s head. He moves his lips against hers, the gentle presses he usually starts out with before he deepens the kiss. She sighs into his mouth, hips rolling slightly as he strokes his fingertips up her spine. The pebbling of her flesh swells pride in his chest. 

“Mmm, feels good, Frankie,” she hums, backing off just enough to signal Frankie it’s his turn to show her what he can do. Splaying his large hands on her back, he leans up to meet her lips again, another chaste press before he slips the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip. She opens for him, and he thanks her with soft little laps, barely touching as his hands roam her back, the strong muscles of her thighs, weave through her hair. They’re rocking together in a rhythm neither consciously chose, Frankie’s cock starting to ache at the lack of pressure. 

Her nails scratch across his scalp, tugging his curls just shy of painful, and he delves his tongue deeper into her waiting mouth. She groans, sliding down his thighs to finally fit her core against his straining length. The welcome friction drives his kiss deeper, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip, tongues sliding more fervently. She finally breaks away, lips shiny and eyes bright.

“Mmmm, you’re a very good kisser. Let’s take this to the bedroom,” she says, lifting off Frankie’s lap. A small noise of protest leaves his lips at the loss, but he obediently follows through a plain hallway to a sparsely decorated bedroom. The nightstands are simple honeyed wood, a matching headboard behind the king-sized bed. The bedspread is an inoffensive dark gray, crisp white sheets folded primly at the head. Lily turns around and stands at the foot expectantly.

“I, uh…do you want me to just…” Frankie stammers, the confidence waning. 

“How about we do what you normally do, and I’ll chime in as needed. Show me your moves, handsome.” Her coquettish smile entices him to step forward and cup her face in his hands, brushing their noses together again before he parts her lips with his own and drinks from her. She melts against his front, fisting his t-shirt as he gathers the hem of her tank top in his bigger hands.

“Can I take this off you?” he asks, tracing his nose along her cheek as she nods. Pulling the thin fabric over her head, he takes in a sharp little breath that she’s not wearing anything underneath it. His hands travel up just below her pert little breasts, dark nipples tightening at his touch.

“I’d like to put my mouth on you,” he pants into her ear, waiting patiently for her breathy, “yes, Frankie,” before he guides her back, banding an arm around her waist before laying her down. On his knees between her spread legs he drinks her in, parted lips and hazy eyes and a body he wants to take apart until she’s a shuddering mess.

“Frankie,” Lily calls lightly, a smile brightening her face.

“Sorry, you’re just…beautiful,” Frankie says, allowing a little of the awe to creep in as he hovers over her prone body.

“I like it when you say what you’re thinking,” she replies, fingers back in his increasingly messy hair. He makes a note to keep it a little longer if this is the treatment he’ll get.

“I think there’s a lot more I want to taste than just these,” he purrs, lowering his mouth to wrap around her nipple and softly suck. Her back arches, legs caging in his narrow hips as she sighs at the clever licks of his tongue and drags of his lips over the supple flesh. Frankie loves breasts of all shapes and sizes, and her small handfuls are no different. He loves how his whole hand can dwarf their size, how large his thumb looks swiping over her puckered nipple. He switches to the neglected one, his thumb and forefinger rolling the wet bud in the absence of his mouth.

“Yes, Frankie, that’s so good,” she mumbles, thighs tightening around him. He drops his hips into the cradle of her sex, a shallow grind relieving some pressure while driving her pleasure higher. With a satisfied hum he lifts to capture her mouth again, lips plumper and reddened from his thorough work. She accepts with fervor, nipping and sucking at him until his hands find hers and he presses them into the mattress.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, dipping to lave his tongue along her neck. She squirms underneath him, reedy moans making his head spin. “Not faking any of this, are you?” he huffs, breaking the heady tension. Lily fists his hair again and pulls him to eye level, a sardonic smile on her swollen lips.

“Not a chance in hell, honey,” she rasps, and Frankie can practically feel his dimple pop out at her breathless admission. 

“Want to taste you here too,” he admits, rolling his hips against her hot core. “Want to make you cum on my tongue. Would you like that?” he asks, bolder in his question now that he’s coming into his wheelhouse.

“Yes, Frankie, fuck, definitely yes,” she pants, hands coming to tug at his offending clothing. He shucks his flannel and t-shirt, a brief moment of self-consciousness following. He knows he’s got a little bit of a softer stomach, no six-pack like Benny, and his hairless chest might be a little less manly than he wished, but when her eyes widen and her tongue comes out to lick her lips the thrill returns.

“Knew there was a tasty fucking body under there,” she teases, fingers tapping against his belt buckle. “I bet when you’re on top you make all the girls feel small under you. Those broad fucking shoulders. Can’t wait to get my legs over them.” Frankie’s cock slams to attention at her filthy mouth, taking a moment to palm himself while he settles on his knees at the foot of the bed. If he does this often enough, he’s going to have to bring a pillow with him. Or a chair.

“I’d never keep you waiting,” he shoots back, testing the banter. To his delight her eyes darken, lifting her hips as he eases her shorts and panties down her legs. Her glistening folds make his mouth water, and when he pulls her down the bed to his waiting face her thighs shake under his capable hands.

“Relax, sweetheart. You said you were gonna keep an eye out for what I’m good at?” he says, innocence written across his face. She quirks a brow and nods. “Perfect, because I am very good at this.”

She might have been preparing for a scoff, or a witty comeback, but when he lowers his mouth to her pussy and licks a wide stripe over her throbbing clit all he can hear is her garbled groan as he begins learning her cunt in earnest. Circling her clit with the tip of his tongue makes her hips rock. Sliding down to her entrance with slow-steady strokes arches her back generously. Teasing just at her hole eases her back into steadier breathing, but breaching it makes her whole body shudder. Every movement, every reaction he gets from his oral onslaught he files away, content with taking his time to map out everything that makes her thrash and sigh.

“You are good at this,” she gasps out, locking eyes as he looks up at her from where his face is buried in her folds. “Holy shit, you look so fucking hot like that,” she stutters out, his smile pressing into her cunt. 

“Love doing this, s’my favorite part,” he garbles into her flesh, wrapping his lips delicately around her clit and pulling soft suction into his mouth. She cries out, fingers tightening in his hair as a chanted, “Oh god, oh fuck, fuck Frankie, I’m gonna, holy shit I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” tumbles from her lips. He keeps it up for a moment more before releasing, her breaths coming out in ragged sobs.

“Would you like to come, beautiful girl?” Frankie murmurs, hands stroking soothingly along her bare thighs. She laughs briefly before reaching down to stroke his sticky lower lip.

“Show me what you can do, big boy,” she challenges, and the glint in his eye is her final warning before he sets to his task. Long, firm strokes from her hole to just below her clit work her up, her hips rocking in time with his pace. He pulls her closer, legs draped over his shoulders as he bobs his head, eyes flashing up to catch her blissed-out face before she tips back into the pillows. When a whine grows in her throat he switches to tight circles on her clit, alternating directions and interrupting with quick flicks to keep her keening and arching into his mouth. 

“Frankie, please,” she begs hoarsely. He was never good at edging, always wanting his partners to cum now and cum over and over again. So with his mouth sealed around her clit he sucks and works his tongue over her tight little bud as her hands scrabble for purchase on the bed, his tousled head, the sheet he hears creak in her fists. When her body feels as tight as a bowstring he releases the pressure just enough that when he flicks over her clit she’s helpless to stop it. Her orgasm rushes through, thighs clenching hard around his ears, hips bucking hard enough he has to pin them down, and breathy shouts shooting right to his throbbing cock. If he could cum from this he would. If he had a hand down his pants right now he definitely would. But instead he slows his strokes, enveloping her slick folds with his hot mouth as she weakly releases his head and flops back to the mattress.

“Holy shit, Frankie, that was…yeah, I’d fucking pay for that,’” she gasps, his chuckle dark and deep against her core.

“Nah, that’s standard good fucking. What you’ll pay for is that I’m going to do it again,” Frankie says, and he almost can’t recognize the confidence in his voice. It’s making his skin crackle with excitement as he strokes a finger through her sopping cunt, savoring her scent in his mustache.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, handsome,” Lily says, propping up on her elbows to look at him between her thighs. “Sometimes less is…way fucking more than most girls are used to.”

Frankie lets a lopsided grin dance onto his face, enjoying how her own expression falters.

“You don’t think I can do it?” he purrs, shallowly breaching her with his fingertip. “Haven’t even tried to get your g-spot yet. Give me a chance to make you cum on my face again, and I’ll fuck you in any position you like. Even the challenging ones.” Lily contemplates his offer, carding his curls back from his face. He likes the way she plays with his hair. He’ll have to encourage that.

“Even the positions where I fuck you, big boy? I’ve got loads of toys for that.” 

Frankie flushes deeply at that, face blazing hot as she laughs at his sudden turn.

“Teasing, only teasing. Though you shouldn’t knock it. I could make you see stars, baby.”

Frankie coughs and tries to get back into the moment, shaking his head.

“Maybe when I’m a little more experienced,” he acquiesces. It’s a little white lie. He wouldn’t be able to let someone make him that vulnerable for a handful of dollars. That’s something he’d only consider with someone he trusted deeply, and cared for just as much.

“Fair enough. Let’s see what you got,” she says, leaning back and propping some pillows behind her back. A wicked smile crawls onto Frankie’s face.

“I’ll give you my best, sweetheart.”

Frankie’s specialty is the second orgasm. The first is long, languid, learning. The second one has a pace all its own, both in the buildup and the payoff. He can’t go right back to torturing her overstimulated clit, or pumping his fingers into her, no matter how hard the idea makes him. Instead he drapes his arm over her waist, spreads one of his hands over her thigh, and lays heady kisses along her stomach. Her muscles twitch at the scratch of his beard, the teasing nips of his teeth, the self-conscious giggles he earns when he tongues a particularly sensitive spot. He lets his hands roam, kneading at her thighs, skimming his fingers up to splay across her chest. Their span is exciting to most, eyes widening when they see how far his thumb and pinky can reach. He basks in the relaxation of this moment, bringing her down from her height onto the pillowy comfort of his touch. 

“Frankie,” Lily murmurs, sliding her calf along his back. He slides up to kiss the inside of her knee, trailing his mouth down her thigh. “Frankie!” she giggles more urgently, wiggling her hips when he doesn’t speed up his movements.

“Impatient?” he hums into her skin, but he lets his fingertips dance closer to her core. “Thought you were going to let me try.”

“Didn’t realize you were going to take all afternoon for the second one,” she quips back. Mischief flashes in Frankie’s eyes, and he crawls up her body to ghost his lips over her earlobe.

“Are you turned on yet?” he whispers, testing a deeper bedroom voice. To his delight she writhes under him, fingernails lightly scraping up his back. He slides a hand down to cup her pussy, sliding one finger through her folds. “Mmm, yes you are,” he sighs, scraping his teeth behind her ear to elicit a shaky breath. Coating his finger in her slick, he slides inside as she takes in a shaky breath.

“Good?” he asks, holding still with his middle finger buried inside her slick heat.

“Yeah, fuck, Frankie, please,” she gasps, rocking her hips against his hand. A triumphant smile hides against her neck as he drags his finger out, then buries it back inside her. After a few careful strokes he finds a spot that arches her back, a quiet “fuck” escaping her lips.

“Oh yeah, there it is,” he coos, swirling the tip of his finger over it. Her nails bite into his shoulderblades, the pressure of his jeans against his cock almost unbearable but he’s so focused he pushes it to the side. “Can you take another one?” Lily nods quickly before he slicks his ring finger and slides both inside.

“Shit, Frankie, I don’t even really like fingering but this…” she says, pulling him down to settle more of his bulk on her. He draws one knee up to plant under her thigh, but lets his broad frame press her deeper into the mattress. His unoccupied hand slides under her neck, holding her while he dives in to kiss her deeply, sensually, in time with his methodical strokes. When her hips start moving in time he breaks the kiss, shuffling back down the bed.

“Gonna cum again?” he asks, only allowing a hint of smugness into his voice. Lily laughs breathlessly.

“Yeah, if you put your mouth on me I just might,” she teases.

“Yes ma’am,” Frankie says back before lapping fervently at her neglected clit. The warm passes of his tongue stiffen her back, thin moans growing into cries as he finds the pattern that drives all thought from her mind. Slick with sweat, her body roils under Frankie’s careful ministrations. When his knuckles pull too much at her sucking grip he spits on where they’re joined, licking where she’s stretched around him.

“Frankie, holy fuck, don’t…don’t stop…” she stammers, hands back in his hair as he rubs roughly against her g-spot and messily tongues her, audibly moaning to vibrate her clit and tighten her nipples. He wants to palm one pretty tit while he’s eating her out but she’s so close he can’t help himself. He clamps his hand down on his protesting cock as he swipes his tongue hard and fast, thrusting his fingers deep and devastating. Pride surges in his chest when her hips lock hard, bowing her off the bed as she wails. His hands fly to support her, holding her firmly against his mouth as he plunges his tongue into her spasming cunt and circles his nose on her clit. She thrashes against him but he holds steady, eyes burning up her body so when she finally opens her own she can see the raw need heating his face. His cock jumps again when her eyes roll back and another, softer pattern of pulses wrap around his tongue. 

Again, he thinks with wonder, she came again just looking at me.

When her body unlocks, trembling instead, he lowers her down to the bed, soothing his hands along her skin as he swallows down her second release. Her breaths are ragged, sending him to search for a glass of water for both their parched throats.

When he returns she’s positively wrecked, limbs weakly spread on the bed. Her head lifts and she blearily takes the water, letting Frankie hover at her side until she places the glass down on the bedside table. The silence stretches until she finally speaks.

“Holy fuck, Frankie, not only are women gonna pay for that, they’re gonna pay double,” she says, making Frankie’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “I’m serious, I don’t think I’ve ever had my pussy eaten that good. Who the hell taught you that?”

Frankie’s eyes go soft in memory.

“I had a girlfriend when I was a lot younger. It was both of our first times, and she’d never…she was all stressed out about cumming. Repressed upbringing, you know. I didn’t want to pressure her to do anything if she didn’t know what felt good. I’d been jacking it for a while before that, I knew what I liked, but she was so nervous. I told her we wouldn’t have sex until I made her cum first.” He strokes a hand absently on Lily’s forearm, her smile soft and kind. “Fingering was too intense, so I tried to eat her out. I was…ah, not good at it. And she wasn’t sure if it felt good, and was self-conscious about how long it took, if I liked it too. It stressed us both out for a while. I finally asked her if I could just try for as long as it takes.” 

“And how long was that?” Lily asked, turning on her side so Frankie’s wandering hand could stroke along her hip.

“About an hour. Took my time watching her body, seeing what she liked. Combining things, doing some things longer, more intensely. When she came I almost fucking passed out, I got so turned. And then, when she calmed down a little bit…I did it again. And again.”

“And now you’re a fucking god at it,” Lily concludes, wiggling her hips when Frankie takes a careful handful.

“I like doing it. Like the taste, how you smell, how responsive you are. It’s intimate, special. If someone puts their mouth, they want you to feel good. I like the intensity of that.” 

“Well I’ll definitely put that in your recommendation. But we should also take care of the final bit of business before we call our session complete.” Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up when Lily’s hand grazes his thigh, palming his neglected erection. “Hiding something big in here, are we Frankie?”

The confidence radiating off of Frankie dissipates a fraction, the earlier apprehension creeping back on his face.

“I- I know it can be a lot. I’ll go slow, we can take our time,” he stammers, backing off a bit to give Lily room. She smirks at him, sitting up and swinging her leg over Frankie’s lap to cage him in.

“Well, we’ll have to work on your delivery there. You say it like it’s a death sentence,” she giggles, and the tension eases enough for Frankie’s shoulders to lower. Her fingers glide along Frankie’s skin, skimming across his plush chest. “Say it like it’s the sexiest thing,” she challenges, leaning back to see what Frankie does. He ponders for a moment, then unbuttons and unzips his jeans to hang loosely around his hips. The dark boxers he’s got on underneath stretch across the soft V of his hips. 

When Frankie looks back up at her, his eyes are dark as sin with a smile to match. Crawling up her body, he gently takes her wrist and guides her inside his pants. Urging her fingers to  wrap around his girthy cock, he whispers in her ear.

“I know it can be a lot,” he purrs, apprehension swapped for smooth confidence. “I’ll go slow. Take my time.” With each new suggestion he rolls his hips into her grip, hot breath ghosting down her cheek. 

“That’s more like it,” she replies, an appreciative hum rumbling out of Frankie’s chest. Covering her with his body, he slides his jeans the rest of the way off, fitted boxer briefs generously tented. 

“Condoms?” he asks, her hand stretching out to tap at the bedside table. He shuffles in the drawer before pulling one out along with a bottle of lube.

“Probably a good idea to bring one of these with me?” he asks, half to himself. Lily plucks it from his hand and places it back on the nightstand.

“I’m plenty wet enough for you, big boy. But yes, always condoms and lube wouldn’t hurt. Better to be prepared,” she says, spreading her thighs to invite Frankie in. Rolling on the condom, he returns to the cradle of her hips, fisting his aching cock to tap against her clit. She arches, a delightful smile painting her face.

“Can’t wait to feel you stretch me,” she whispers.

“Fuck,” he gasps back, dragging the underside of his cock through her folds. “Shit, you feel good. How…how do you want me?”

“Any way you want, baby,” she purrs back, the plump head of his cock pressing at her entrance. 

Frankie enters her slowly, inch by blissful inch. Some of it is care; he’s watched the pinched expressions of women not used to taking a cock as thick and hefty as his, and he’s highly attuned to discomfort. If he catches it he drags back out, slow as syrup before pushing forward again into her blinding heat. Lily takes him so well he has to slow himself down, his mounting arousal pulling him too close to the edge. She’s moaning softly below him, fingers digging into his hips as he presses flush against her.

“Fuck, Frankie, you’re filling me up so good,” Lily moans, lifting her hips to grind on his buried cock. 

“You feel amazing. Fuck, yes, so goddamn good. I want to fuck you like this first, then make you cum on me again. Shiiiiit.” Frankie’s groans are positively filthy as he takes his first slick stroke into her cunt, the flutters of her walls around him pooling liquid metal in the base of his spine. Firming up his stance, he rolls his hips into hers, long languid strokes that speak to his stamina and patience. If her moans were filthy before, they’re downright crude now.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckFrankieeeee,” she whines, hands scrabbling along his shoulders and hair as he mouths at her pebbled nipples and palms her overheated flesh. When he’s wet with her slick, sweat sliding down his smooth skin, he slips two fingers between them to circle her clit, fast slippery circles making her quake around him.

“Oh please keep doing that, Frankie, fuck…” she whines, and Frankie’s teeth find the sensitive spot under her ear that makes her hair stand on end.

“Gonna fuck you so good you’ll be gushing around my cock, then I’m gonna pound you from behind until you strangle me again. Gonna be so deep inside you you won’t be able to think about anything else but cumming. C’mon, gorgeous, cum on my fat cock.” Frankie can barely register where the words spilling from his gasping lips are coming from, but they certainly land like sizzling oil on her skin. Eyes screwed shut, lips parted in a silent cry, her rhythm gets messier as Frankie brushes his cock over and over her g-spot, deadly accuracy in every thrust. With a few more targeted circles over her clit she bursts, legs clamped viciously around his waist as he grinds into her spasming cunt. The pressure rockets his orgasm close to the surface, his balls tightening up as wetness coats them further, but he thinks about baseball and those smoking commercials he hates and the crest ebbs back to a manageable pace. 

Once her legs unlock Frankie kisses her again, firm and exacting while she’s still on cloud nine. Humming into his mouth she strokes his scruffy cheeks, the sensation tingling up his spine. 

“Want you to cum, Frankie,” Lily whispers against his mouth, and the desire roars up inside his chest. With efficient strength he flips her, lifting her hips to meet his own, and slides back into her sopping cunt. “Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel ever bigger like this,” she chokes out, back arching as he takes one experimental thrust into her. She keens under his large hands, shuddering at the press of his mouth on her spine when he folds over to kiss her again.

“Gonna fuck you good and hard now, pretty girl. You’re gonna make me bust with this sweet fucking pussy,” he pants, admiring her round ass and sweet little hole. He presses his thumb lightly against it, earning a garbled sound of pleasure. 

“Please, Frankie,” she moans, and he could never deny her the pleasure he’s brimming to give. 

The first snap of his hips drive her face-down into the mattress, and the subsequent pounding buries her fingers in the sheets. Every snap of his hips to her thighs, his balls slapping against her clit, drives him even more wild, babbling to her about how fucking good her pussy is, how he’s gonna maker her cum on his big cock over and over again. She throatily agrees, backing up against his thrusts to drive him deeper, harder into the spot that will make her cum again. Frankie’s lips peel back from his teeth, throwing back his head to growl and gasp as he rails her into the bed, his orgasm just moments from toppling him over into his denied bliss.

“Cum with me, baby,” he orders, wrapping his arm around her waist to palm her dripping cunt. The heel of his hand combined with the smack of his hips rocks her clit over his palm, and that stimulation throws her off into the deep end of her fourth orgasm. This time her cunt is too tight, too fucking good to stop him from cumming, shouts devolving into ragged whimpers and sweet reassurances as they both come down from their highs.

Frankie eases Lily to the bed, stroking her sweaty hair out of her face and placing a chaste kiss on her temple. He disposes of the condom in the bathroom, taking a moment to check himself in the mirror. He’s flushed and rumpled, his hair an absolute mess, but damn if he’s not glowing as well. He runs the tap and slicks damp fingers through his hair, returning just in time to catch Lily downing the rest of her water.

“Frankie, baby, you are going to have a great career if you can pull that routine even once a week.” His scoff brings her hands up to scold. “I’m serious! You like making people feel good. I can definitely see this working out for you.” 

Frankie’s blush radiates from his cheeks to his chest, coming to sit beside Lily on the bed.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” he says. His fingers come to rest on her forearm. “What should I do for aftercare? I normally get some water, cuddle, help clean them up. Should I be doing something different?”

Lily gives him an approving smile.

“It’ll probably be a bit shorter than what you’re used to, but yes to all. Some girls may not want it, others may want more. So keep your eye on the clock and give them as much as you can. Believe me, they’ll get more out of that than the sex itself.”

Frankie nods, deep brown eyes coming to hers again.

“Which one are you? Aftercare or no?”

Lily leans back, settling into the pillows again.

“I could take a little cuddle before you go.”

Frankie ducks his head to hide his shy smile, tucking her into his side so he can stroke soothing paths up her side, weaving his hands into her hair and kneading at the back of her neck. 

“I had fun,” Frankie finally says, staring at the ceiling and chewing the inside of his cheek. “I wasn’t sure what I was walking into, but it was a lot of fun.” 

“It should be if you’re doing it right,” Lily quips, running her hand over his chest and twirling her fingers into his loose curls splayed against the pillow. 

“I can last longer than that, you know,” he murmurs, nosing into her hair when she lets out a breathy giggle.

“You lasted plenty long enough, big boy.”

“Well, I have my ways just in case,” he says mysteriously. Lily’s hand slows on his chest, her body hovering on a question, but it passes. Instead she lifts up to press a sweet kiss to Frankie’s lips.

“Now I’ll show you how to leave graciously.”

“So how did he do?”

Lily lounges on her couch, phone to her ear as Pope’s voice filters through.

“I gotta hand it to you, Santi, you only fraternize with men who are very competent at fucking.”

“Ha ha, Lils, but really? Frankie’s cut out for it?”

Lily pauses, the itch under her fingernails growing louder.

“Definitely has the right temperament, the right attitude. His confidence could use a little work, but he got into the swing of things. Eats pussy like a fucking god, and knows how to use that big cock of his…”

“Jesus Lil, a yes or know would have sufficed.”

Lily laughs into the phone. Riling up Santi is a rare treat.

“He’s a boyfriend experience guy, so I’d steer him to clients looking for that. He’ll make them feel like they’re his whole world for the hour. And he’ll make bank doing it.”

“Any concerns?”

Lily’s hands flex briefly.

“Has he ever had an issue with substances?”

The silence on the other end answers her question, but she still waits for Santi.

“Not in a while. So he’s told me.”

“What was it?”

Another pause, then a sigh.

“Coke.”

The word sinks deep into her stomach.

“You know I don’t fuck with that shit, Santi. Not after Colombia.”

“He’s not using.”

“Maybe not, or maybe not a lot. But if he’s got a proclivity to it…keep an eye on him, Santi.”

“I will. Thanks Lils.”

She lets her breath out, lightening the conversation.

“You gonna call him Catfish?”

“He told you that?”

“Could be a good play on words.”

“Ugh.”

“Swimming in pussy?”

“That’s awful.”

“Doesn’t need to breathe. Certainly didn’t feel like it after the second one.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Bye Santi, te amo.”

Santi chuckles at the saccharine endearment as he hangs up. With approval from Lily he’ll start giving Frankie work. Her warning echoes in his ears, his own apprehensions mixing with it. They all had their demons to face, but Frankie chose a path that worried his friends. Santi would have to keep an eye on him, keep Frankie safe and watch out for his clientele. But he trusted his friend, and wanted him not to worry so much when his rent came due.

“Seems like Catfish is on the menu,” he murmurs to himself, snorting at the unfortunate innuendo. He’d have to share it with Frankie next time he sees him.

END

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Press Play - A "Kissing You" Drabble

Pairing: Frankie Morales & f!reader

Warnings: Sharing of insecurities, blink and you miss it possessive Frankie. Truly this is just a boat load of fluff.

Word Count: 1k

Prompt #62 : Caressing your lover’s cheek

a/n: Not SPECIFICALLY saying that the show mentioned in this is TLOU, but if I happen to reference a highly anticipated show premiering at 9PM with an unnamed actor on the same day that TLOU premieres, then it's just COINCIDENCE. Mostly though this is just a self indulgent piece because I am lucky enough to have friends that put up with my shit but I still question it all the time and I'm so glad I found this community that is equally obsessed and where everything goes. I love y'all. Happy TLOU Day!

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

You’ve spent two years waiting for this day. 

When it had initially been announced that your all time favorite actor would be headlining one of the most anticipated shows of the year, you’d been excited. When the first pictures from the set appeared, just pixels really, your excitement had grown to a frenzy. And now? As you scrolled again through Twitter looking at the red carpet interviews and press releases and the first of the reviews as you waited for the premiere itself? Near hysteria.

You’re sitting on the couch, snuggled beneath the blanket, your filled water bottle and a bag of peanut butter M&Ms sitting on the table in front of you. A specifically purchased box of tissues sits next to them - Puffs, without lotion because no one wants lotion in their eyes when they’re already crying. The apartment smells like popcorn, and when Frankie appears a moment later, bowl in hand, he’s quick to settle in next to you, pulling the blanket over both of your laps. 

“Are you ready?” he asks playfully, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You lean into his embrace instinctively, nerves rolling through your belly. It’s a weird mix - anticipation and nervousness because what if it isn’t as good as you hoped.

You check your phone again, just to make sure it isn’t time yet. Five minutes. “I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be ready for this,” you laugh lightly, “but I’m sure everyone else is ready for me to stop talking about it."

Frankie’s head tilts slightly in confusion, eyebrows furrowing as you turn away from him. You queue up the appropriate streaming service in preparation, avoiding his gaze the same way you hope to avoid the conversation you know is now coming. With his free hand, he reaches to cup your cheek, caressing it as he encourages you to look at him. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just…” you start, struggling to find the right way to answer his question. It’s always been painfully obvious to you that those around you are quick to be annoyed by your obsessions. It comes across as a bit manic, and to the average outsider who couldn’t care less about most of your hyperfixations, you know it can be a bit much. “Sometimes I just feel like I bombard people with constant chatter about things they probably don’t care about. Or I feel guilty because I’m basically forcing you to like the things I like without ever stopping to ask if you actually want to watch the things I do.” 

You throw your arms against your lap in frustration as if to emphasize your point. The show hasn’t even started yet and you can feel the tears forming in your eyes, a fact that Frankie doesn’t miss as he runs his thumb over your cheekbone to catch them as they fall.

“Querida,” he starts, voice gentle and soothing, “you know I’m not picky about what we watch, and you do not bombard people any more than they bombard you.”

You choke on a sob as you try to respond, “yeah, but no one really cares.” Your brain reminds you that time is still ticking, and you cough as you reach for your phone, checking the time again only for it to remind you that there’s still three minutes left. “Everyone just thinks I’m ridiculous.” 

Suddenly Frankie is holding your face with both of his hands. “You are not ridiculous,” he states sternly, and you’re looking at him now, your eyes locked on his at the seriousness of his voice. “Seeing you light up about something you’re excited about is the most beautiful thing on this planet, and if others can’t appreciate that then fuck them. And I don’t care what it is you’re excited about, even if it’s not something I understand or would ever watch on my own, because all I care about is that you’re happy. Hell, you listen to me talk about flying all day long and you never complain.” 

You shake as your breath leaves your body in quick huffs, and you reach up to hold your hands over his, keeping them firmly locked in place as you lean your head into one of them. “That's different," you insist. "You literally fly helicopters and that’s fucking amazing. This is just a dumb show that happens to star an actor I really like.”

“It is not a dumb show,” he repeats back to you with emphasis. “It’s the biggest fucking show of the year!” That gets you to laugh, and you turn your head slightly to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. “Sweetheart, believe me when I tell you that I always want you to share your passions with me, because if others can’t appreciate them the way I do, then that’s their loss. So let me ask you again. Are you ready for this?” 

A smile forms on your lips as the excitement takes over in your mind once more, “I’m ready.” 

“Good, because there’s only a minute left.” A glance at the clock on the wall confirms his statement, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling you against him, settling you so your back is against his firm chest, arms wrapping around your waist. His head rests on your shoulder as you pick up the remote, eager to press play the second the clock strikes nine. 

“And you promise you’re not jealous of my obvious infatuation with a certain actor?” you ask as the last seconds tick down.

His lips ghost behind your ear as he whispers his response. “Never, because only I get to hold you like this. And later?” he continues, tone becoming more possessive, “I’m going to carry you into our bedroom and my name will be the only one on your lips.” It’s a promise you know he’ll keep, and a shiver runs down your spine at the thought. “Now, you’d better hit play before I do it for you, because I can’t wait for this fucking show.”

Masterlist | Previous Drabble | Next Drabble

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 26th

Day 26: Group Sex // Seduction // Costumes

Dave York + Frankie Morales + Will Miller + Benny Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Oral sex (male and female receiving), group sex, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, slight degradation, collaring, dom/sub tones 

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Three sets of eyes, four - if Dave’s were counted, were focused on you. Will keeps glancing away, shifting uncomfortably, but flickering back over to you as if it was an accident he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. The morbidly curious spectator that slows down the car to rubberneck and observe. 

Except they aren’t watching EMS or fire personnel take care of a crash scene. No, they are watching spit drip down your chin, your throat bulging and gasps as the thick cock that makes tears spring up in your eyes and slides down your cheeks pulls back long enough for you to draw in a breath before it pushes back down your throat. 

Frankie coughs, rubbing his hand over his face and twisting in his seat, his glance finding Benny to see what the younger Miller brother was doing. To see if anyone else was as shocked as he was. Benny was leaning forward, hands clasped together with his blue eyes focused on the scene in front of him. 

His eyes turn back to where the woman on her knees very enthusiastically bobbed her head up and down, taking Dave deeper and deeper with every pass, her nude body on display and he swallows when he sees a flash of something between her cheeks. A toy? A plug?

Benny’s the first to say something. “Hell of a weekend away, York.” His chuckle is awkward, voice rather rough from the unspoken questions that every man has. 

Dave smirks, looking back down at you and strokes your hallowed cheek, making you moan quietly and lean into his touch. “Figured you boys might want a little more than fishing and nature on the menu.” He tells them, looking up from your mouth to find each one of them staring at him. 

“I brought you a toy for the weekend.” He goes on tugging on the collar you are wearing around your neck and you obey immediately, pulling off his cock with a gasp, hazily looking up at him from lust filled eyes. “Good girl.” He winks at you and motions for you to suck his cock again, chuckling when you eagerly take him back into your mouth. “My little slut is going to take care of your every need. Every little hole is yours to fill, to fuck.”

You moan in agreement, and Will shuffles lower in his seat, obviously trying to see if this is some sort of power play or trick. Instead of smirking, Dave catches his eye, beckoning him over. “Touch her, Ironhead.” He invites. “She’s wanting to be filled.” 

Will’s gaze turns calculating, eyes narrowing as he watches your head bob, fingers digging into the arm of his chair from his slumped position before he makes up his mind. Your eyes cut over to watch as he pushes himself up out of the chair with a small grunt, making Dave chuckle, his hand cupping your jaw again. 

“Good choice, Miller” He groans when you swallow around him. “It’s worth it.” 

****

His decision leads to a chain reaction. You miss the silent communication between the other brother and Fankie. The subtle way that they agree with the tiniest of nods before Benny starts to kick off his shoes and Frankie sweeps the Standard Oil hat off his head and tosses it on the table beside him. 

You know their names, you’ve been shown pictures of the men that you were going to entertain this weekend, although they don’t know who you are. Dave hadn’t introduced you, preferring to leave you as his ‘pet’ for now. Adding to the thrill of this. 

Will is the first one to touch you. Hand skimming up your bare back and to the collar around your neck, hooking his fingers under the stiff yet malleable leather to pull you back slightly. Your lips stretch along the base of Dave’s cock, an inch slipping from your throat and Will grunts slightly as you aren’t providing resistance, instead you are letting him move you. 

“Oh she’s good.” He rasps out, pushing you forward until the length is buried in your throat again. There’s slightly admiration in his voice, the feeling of his hand sliding down your back and gripping your ass has you moaning quietly at the praise and touch. 

Dave smirks, looking towards Benny and Frankie as they strip down. Their cocks are half hard, swelling as they throw their clothes off in their haste. “Hurry up before we decide to keep her for ourselves.” He jokes. 

“Fuck no.” Benny grunts, a pout automatically on his face at the idea of not getting to join in on the fun. 

Frankie chuckles and shakes his head as he slowly follows the younger brother over to where all four men are now crowding around you. “He said we have all weekend.” He reminds him with a playful nudge, groaning as he wraps his own hand around his cock. 

“Yeah but this is the beginning of the fun.” Benny smirks as he kneels down and cups your breast. “Fuck, these are nice.” He grunts in approval as he pinches your nipple and makes you whine while you keep sucking Dave’s cock. 

Dave taps your chin and you dutifully move back, looking up at him expectantly. “Move to the bedroom.” Dave orders, obviously wanting to move to a more spacious location for this to happen. 

****

They have you spread out. Limbs splayed wide and each man seems to overtake every one of your senses. Will and Dave had stripped when they had moved you to the bedroom, Benny taking the initiative and hoisting you up to cart you off like a prize. 

Head hanging over the edge of the bed, you feel the press of Will’s insistent cock press deep. Deeper than Dave’s as he grunts, the soft press of his balls against your nose. 

All you can do is take it, moan through it while Frankie’s tongue is buried in your folds. Greedy and hungry for the smallest sounds he pulls out of you, feasting on you as if he were starving. His tongue is artfully wicked, making Benny huff about how no one would be able to satisfy you with oral now that you’ve had Cat’s tongue. 

Firm, wide hand hold your thighs, keeping them apart for his head while he slurps and sucks on your cunt. Making it hard to keep a steady rhythm for the two cocks in your hand. Unable to see them, Will blocks your view but you can hear the curses from Benny, feel the hands groping and slapping at your tits while you absorb the attention all four men give you. 

The air in the room is filled with them. Sweat, sex, musk all permeanting every inch of the space, their unique scents combining into one heady fragrance that covers the smell of your dripping cunt, of your need to be wrecked by them. 

Every second is filled with them. A curling flick of Frankie’s tongue combined with the slide of skin over steel and muted groans, the push of rigid veins along your palette. Every time they push into your hands or mouth, flicks your clit, your cunt clenches. Bottoms out on itself in anticipation. 

Will holds your head, watching his cock disappear into your mouth and bulge out the soft skin of your stretched throat. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon.” He grunts, looking over at Dave. “Need to- fuck where do you want it?” He’s asking Dave instead of you. 

Lips curling up, Dave hums. “Fill up that pretty little throat. I’m sure that you’ll fill up every hole by the time we are done.” 

Nodding, Will bites his lip, looking back down at you and his eyes slip closed. Hips losing their steady rhythm and starting to stutter. Feeling the way his body tightens, his cock hardens even more as he presses in, right before he lets out a loud moan. 

Salty ropes of cum push down your throat, making you gulp in an effort to keep up. Lifting up onto the balls of his toes while you drink him down, your grip on Benny and Dave’s cocks loose while you concentrate on not drowning in Will’s seed. 

Gasping for air and keening when he pulls his wet, spent cock from your mouth. The first sounds of your pleasure fully audible while Frankie continues to lick into your folds. Grinding your hips down and Dave tuts, reaching down and pinching your nipple harshly. “Don’t be greedy, you little slut.” He huffs at you, mocking your desperation for Frankie’s tongue and the way you moan when he tweaks your nipple. “Let the boys fuck those tight little holes.” 

Your lashes flutter and Dave’s filthy words push you over the edge, hips lifting and your body bucking as you cry out. Pouring your release into Frankie’s groaning mouth and Benny hisses. “Fuck, I’m fucking her ass.” He calls dibs on your hole and Dave snorts in amusement. He knows that by the time you’ve left the cabin this weekend, he will have taken every hole you have. 

****

Your eyes are on Dave, heavy lidded as he slowly strokes his cock. Watching instead of touching you and the urge to whine is overwhelming. The men he has worked with are very different but each one of them has an impressive cock. Two of them are stretching you out and impaling you while your body sings in pain and pleasure. 

It’s always the quiet ones that have the thickest dicks. The ones that don’t brag about how fucking big they are. Although it was obvious from the bulge in his pants that he wasn’t lacking, the fucking wrist sized cock that is currently buried in your cunt makes you gasp and whimper, rocking foward while the younger Miller brother pushes deep inside you. 

Benny’s long, average thickness but his cock is more than a full inch longer than Dave’s and your brow pinches slightly as he rocks into you slowly, letting you get used to him inside your tightly gripped hole. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I never - shit, no one ever lets me fuck their ass.” Benny moans, obviously in heaven and his hands cup your tits while he works his way to his hips grinding against your ass and every inch buried to the hilt. “Shit baby, you are beautiful.” 

“She loves it.” Dave smirks at your slack jawed expression, reaching out to cup your chin while Frankie’s fingers dig into your hips. “Want another cock in you?” He coos, grunting in approval when you nod dumbly like the cock drunk little whore you are. “Hopefully Frankie ate that pretty little pussy out enough to take his fat cock. You love it, don’t you my little slut?” You whimper and nod, clenching down around the cocks inside you.

Now it’s Will’s turn to watch, spent but quickly starting to get turned on again as he watches Dave stand, move over to where the three of you are propped up and feed his cock back into your mouth. You take it easily, just like you had swallowed him down and Will gulps, his cock twitching in interest and it might be a faster recovery time than he expected. 

You look pornographic. It could easily be any porn that they were jerking off to during deployments. One of millions of videos from shared hard drives that were used to combat loneliness and horniness. But instead of a computer screen, he can smell the sex, feel the tension in the air and practially taste skin and sweat. 

He wonders where Dave found you. Were you a worker he paid for the weekend? He didn’t think so. You were too familiar with him. Although that might not say much. The collar around your neck wasn’t new, it was obviously a usual weight around your neck. Your eyes are focused upon him, despite the two other men that are slowly starting to move in and out of your body. 

You whine, moan, as they find their rhythm. Alternating thrusts in perfect symphony. Never leaving you empty before the thick press of being filled races up your spine. The way they work together is almost instinctual, muscle memory. The devastating punch of their thrusts makes you mewl, swallowing around Dave’s cock as you are wrecked. 

The grunts and groans of the men are filthy, making you clench, filling the room with steady rising sounds. Panted curses and hissed blasphemes are all they can manage through the thrusts, each sound making you wind up tighter. Your orgasm titters on the edge while each man uses you, fucks into you like the toy you were promised to be and you’re enjoying it. 

Dave’s hand taps your cheek sharply, making your eyes spring open from where they had drifted closed. “Eyes on me.” He orders harshly, smirking at the cock drunk look in your eyes. “Too much, pet? You said you wanted this. That you could handle it.” Your muffled moan of agreement is filled with the slick sound of his cock filling your throat. “You can’t take more than one cock, is that what I’m hearing?” You shake your head as much as you can and start eagerly pressing him deeper, trying to make sure you give him exactly what he wants. 

Frankie’s hands caress your hips, a contrast to the harsh grip Benny has on your tits. Soft kisses brushing over your skin from the man who is deep in your cunt while Benny’s teeth have an edge to you, scraping over your skin. Making you gasp around Dave’s cock and he grunts, looking down at you with a dark grin. “You’re just getting started, aren’t you?” He coos, chuckling at the whine that escapes your lips. “Fill her up boys. We have a long weekend of fucking her full.” 

****

“Are we ever going to learn who she is?” Benny asks as the last bag is packed away in the truck of the SUV that Dave had brought up to the cabin. “And what about-”

Frankie shuffles and slaps Benny on the arm, a sharp look stopping the younger Miller brother from asking the question all three men had secretly been asking themselves even while they were indulging in the pure wicked decadence of the weekend. They were wrung out, drained dry and it was amazing that you were showering, or walking without any help. 

“What does your wife think about this?” Will asks, voicing it out loud and making Frankie give a soft sigh. Ironhead’s gaze is direct, making Dave huff in quiet admiration for asking the hard question. 

“My wife lets me do what I want.” He murmurs. 

“Yeah - but you just got married.” Benny states, hating again that none of them had been able to make the wedding. None of the had actually met the new Mrs. David York or even seen a picture of her. Dave hated social media and had been oddly silent on the subject of his new bride. 

“And?” Dave cocks a brow at Benny and smirks when he sees the disappointment flash across the team's faces. It was going to be interesting….

Your exit from the cabin with your bag captures their attention. Shocking them because you are dressed for the first time in days, looking much different from the sex toy they had used. Dave hums and walks over to the steps, taking the bag from your shoulder as you start to descend, his demeanor very different from the dominant - sometimes degrading man he had been over the last few days. 

His hand is on your back, guiding you over the men as all three tilt their heads and watch the interaction, trying to figure out this new dynamic of your relationship. This was a woman he had brought to them to be used - with your consent - but they had fucked every single hole on your body and used you in every way imaginable and he is now treating you like a precious jewel. 

“Sweetheart.” Dave smirks again, leaning in and giving you a soft kiss on lips that had every cock here between them. Loads of cum painted over them. “Introduce yourself to the boys.” He instructs you gently, looking back at them as he waits for their reactions. 

You smile at them as you tell them your name. “I’ve been so excited to meet all of you.” You tell them. “I’m Dave’s wife.” 

[undercoverpena]

its the sniffles

Frankie Morales x Reader

He wants nothing more than to come home and take care of you.

an: I’m sick with the flu, and I’m self-indulging so, thought I’d share. No warnings: just fluff, maybe my spelling as I am very ill.

Frankie would know, even if you keep pretending down the phone it isn’t as bad as it seems. “Its the sniffles”, the lie rolling free, dripping from your tongue as you fight that tickle in the back of your throat. Trying to bury it. Smother it. Only for a sneeze to rip out and echo around your home.

He doesn’t blame you for lying—he’d been looking forward to this job for weeks. What he doesn’t like is that he knows you’re suffering, that it’s likely the days are beginning to blur into one.

The last time you were this bad, it took you weeks to admit to him that you became so delirious you forgot he was working away and went looking for him.

It’s because he knows it’s bad if you’re lying, as to why he comes home early.

Knows you’re fighting dizzy spells, exhaustions, as well as scratches in your throat, because he did notice that you kept trying to mute the phone when you went to cough or sneeze—only to mute it when you were talking instead.

It fuelled him, the need to be there for you. Each image of you he concocted of you on the sofa or crawling out of bed tugging on him, wrapping fingers around threads inside of him, and yanking. So much so, he drives back through the night—stepping through the front door as the sun begins to rise, spotting how the coffee table (that had once been wood, magazines and candles) is now tissues, mugs and medicine.

Removing his boots, dropping his duffel and hanging his hat, all in that order, Frankie moves in pursuit to find you. He passes the bathroom bin in the doorway of the living room, used tissues spilling out over it. Finds the blanket, usually folded over the sofa, now thrown across one of the dining room chairs and the sea of mugs, so many of them, bottles and tablets (all cold and flu), cluttering across the usually tidy kitchen counter. All of it making his heart hurt, ache.

He’s only pleased when he finds you in the centre of your two’s bed. One of his old t-shirts on, eyes closed, breathing heavy—there’s a balled up tissues in your palm and the sheets pulled up to your chin. And without touching you, he knows you’re warm, clammy—riddled with an illness he wished he’d been here to help you fight.

Sitting beside you, he brushes his fingers against your cheeks. Hearing the way you breathing changes, your nose blocked, congested, before you slowly flutter your lashes open, finding him, basking him in warmth and happiness that he’s there. But still you blink—quite a few times—likely ensuring you’re aware and not dreaming. Before your cough smothers the room, words lost, buried in a sea of spluttering as you sit up, and his hand finds your back. Just distinctly, between each hacking and a sneeze, he just makes out you mumbling ‘you’re here?’

It’s then he spots his jumper, the thick one—the one with flecks of gold and white embedded in blues and greens, hanging on the door of the wardrobe. Your voice down the phone coming to him, “can I wear your jumper?” “You missing me?” Your feeble yes falling as his something tightened in his chest when you thanked him for saying yes. He wants to pull it over your head now, pull you close, something he suggests, before beginning to offer to make you food, bring the duvet to the sofa and have a movie day, weekend—

“You should stay away. I don’t want—you could get really sick.”

Hands still rubbing circles on your back as he hands you the glass of water from the table. “Don’t care, baby. I wanted to come home and take care of you,” he whispers, kissing your forehead, pulling you close. “Wish I’d been here sooner, honestly.”

Because you’re worse than he thought. Far worse. And all he can do is wear a smile, guilt swelling in his chest—because he should have been here, should have come home sooner.

You must read him, the same way he does you. Your head tilting to look up at him, eyes weary, full of tears from your coughing, as your hand slides over his. “You’re here now.”

“I am,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, feeling your body curl into his. His eyes closing, feeling content.

And then you sneeze.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

love in the time of covid: chapter one

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

chapter rating: M (alternating POV, mentions of past relationships, age gap <10 years, mentions of past substance abuse, frankie being sickeningly cute w reader)

word count: 3.1k

series masterlist

“Any luck with that delivery girl?” Santi asked while on Facetime with Frankie.

“It’s only been a week,” Frankie reminded, embarrassed by the amount of take-out boxes littering his coffee table.

“Be honest—how much have you spent so far?” Santi asked with a chuckle, Frankie giving him a guilty look before switching the camera around to show him the impressive collection of trash. “Jesus!”

“I know,” he sighed and flipped the camera back around, wiping over his face with his palm. “I feel like this isn’t normal. This is like…incredibly unhealthy, right?”

“Well,” Santi shrugged and let out a chuckle. “In terms of what we’re used to dealing with from you, this is relatively normal.”

“Fair,” he chuckled and let out a congested cough, the one huff of air turning into a series of wheezing.

“You alright there, pal?”

“Yeah, just slowly accepting death.” Frankie reached for his sports drink, taking a sip to ease his throat before speaking again. “Hey, how’d everything go with the move? Is your hyna settled in?”

“Aye pues,” he chuckled and Frankie grinned at his friends blush.

“What? She’s not your girlfriend?” He asked while taking another sip.

“Taking it slow. Whatever that means.”

“I think it means she wants to take it slow.”

“Yes, let me listen to Frankie Morales about relationship advice.” He chided sarcastically, earning a wheezed laugh from his friend.

“Yeah, I do have a winning track record, don’t you know?” Frankie smiled at his own sarcasm, knowing just how unlucky in love he was. The only good thing to come from it was his little girl—who he wouldn’t be able to see again for seven more days at least.

“You talk to Viviana?” Frankie scoffed at the mention of his ex, the two of them having only spoken for Alondra’s sake since the split.

“Told her I had Covid and that I’d have to skip weekends with Alondra the next week. She wasn’t happy about that because her and her new man were supposed to be going to Miami this weekend.” Santi scoffed.

“Have you met this guy?”

“No.” Frankie was trying to hide his irritation at his ex’s sudden romance—the one that overlapped with their own.

“You think she brings him around Alondra?”

He didn’t want to think about that. Another man replacing him in the relationship? Fine. Another man acting like Alondra’s father? Hell no.

“His kid goes to the same daycare as Alondra, but I really hope she’s not bringing him around the house. That was one of the only things I asked her for. I’m all for her going off and finding her happiness and shit, but I don’t want her roping Alondra into it, you know?” Santi nodded and opened his mouth to speak but Frankie’s doorbell ringing cut him off. “Oh, wait. That’s my delivery.”

“Unbelievable,” he chuckled from his spot on Frankie’s couch, the phone left face down on the cushion while Frankie slipped on his mask and walked over to the door.

His heart fell to his feet at the sight of her waiting patiently on the other side of the door with a white plastic bag reading, “Thank You🙂” in hand. He practically whipped the door open, his eyes crinkling from the wideness of his grin as he greeted her.

•••

“Hey,” he smiled at you, shocking you with his good memory when he spoke your name.

“Frankie Morales, apartment 507. How’s Covid been treating you?” You greeted him with a smile hidden beneath your mask, excited to see him again after a week of fantasizing.

You weren’t sure what it was. He was just a guy in an apartment—you interacted with at least fifteen of them a day with this job. He shouldn’t have been anything special, anything that would make you fantasize like this. Except…he was.

Maybe it was his messy head of brown curls that lay over his forehead, begging to be pushed back and combed through with your fingers. It could’ve been those equally brown eyes that pulled you in, your heart sinking into them like a vat of warm molasses. Or perhaps it had nothing to do with his dreamy features at all, and maybe it had everything to do with the way he spoke to you like an actual human rather than a servant—the kindness he showed you all too rare in this industry.

Whatever it was, you were hooked. And seeing him now only proved that it wasn’t going away anytime soon. Maybe this time you’d find enough courage to ask for his phone number.

“Covid is as miserable as they say it is. Hopefully this takes a little bit off my karma,” he joked, a soft chuckle finding its way from your chest to your lips.

Oh, how you wanted to see his smile, the crinkles around his eyes the only tell that he was enjoying this as much as you were.

“At least you seem to have a healthy appetite,” you gestured behind him at the coffee table, a sigh of embarrassment leaving his lips as he turned back to look at it.

“Sorry, if I would’ve known it would be you delivering my food rather than Jeremy H., I would’ve cleaned up.” You laughed again—right until his eyes met yours again. Then, you were too flustered to do anything but blush. “Have you been doing okay?”

“Yeah, thank you for asking. No one really asks me that.” You chuckled, shocked by this strangers kindness. “Uh, yeah. Been trying to find a real job, but grad school’s taking up most of my time these days.”

“Grad school, huh?” He crossed his arms, seemingly getting comfortable for the conversation.

“Yeah, aerospace engineering.” You shrugged nonchalantly, his eyebrows raising in response. “I know, I know. A nerd.”

“No, I think it’s funny. I’m a pilot, actually. Well, was—working on getting my license back.” You wanted to ask more about that, but judging by the way the crinkles in his eyes went away, you could tell the topic was enough to rid him of his smile.

“So…Frankie Morales, apartment 507, has an impressive hankering for el pastor, knows how to fly planes. Super uninteresting.” You teased sarcastically, bringing his smile back.

“And you,” he repeated your first name. “Deliverer of el pastor and aspiring aerospace engineer. Also super uninteresting.” He shot you a wink, your eyes lowering to the ground as you fought away your blush. “This might…might ruin this fun thing we’ve got going on where I order too many tacos and you bring me them—which I love, by the way—but, uh…c-could I possibly get your phone number?”

“Yes!” You eagerly replied, his head tilting in amused surprise. “Sorry, that was way too eager.”

“Eager doesn’t bother me.” Your eyes locked for a moment, a chuckle leaving both of your lips at the tension you felt between you.

“Anyways,” you handed him his food before pulling out your phone, asking for his number and then texting it so that he could save it later on. “Well, enjoy those tacos for me. I should go grab some myself.”

“Oh, do you just want to take these? I—if I’m being completely honest, I’m sort of sick of them.” He chuckled nervously as he handed you the bag, your lips parted in shock at his gesture.

“W-why order them, then?” You hesitantly accepted the bag after he insisted.

“Well, I—I guess I was hoping to see you again. But haven’t had much luck, as you can see from the amount of trash littering my house.” He chuckled and tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shrugging. “But your fellow Dasher Jeremy H. and I have become great friends.”

“Can’t believe I’ve got food delivery competition. Have you been giving him five stars, too?” You asked playfully, Frankie’s head shaking and his hand resting over his heart.

“Nope, I swear those are only for you.”

Jesus, this guy.

“Well, good. Jeremy H. isn’t nearly as cute or good at conversations as me.” He laughed and nodded.

“No, he isn’t.” There he went again, making your stomach flutter. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from stealing any orders from Jeremy H.. But, uh, maybe we can Facetime later? And you can give me your opinions on the food?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that, Frankie.” He looked away shyly and nodded before sucking in a breath.

“Alright, well…I should get back to my Facetime call with my friend. He’s probably going to thoroughly embarrass me in front of you if I don’t hurry up—“

“He sleeps with socks on!” You chuckled at the sound of his friend’s voice coming from his phone, Frankie sighing and pointing backwards.

“Yep. Just like that.”

“Well, you don’t mind eagerness and I don’t mind sock-sleeping. Perfect match.” He smiled at you again, or at least that’s what it looked like. “Have fun getting better. And don’t let him pick on you too much for your sleeping habits.”

“I’ll try not to,” he chuckled as you walked down the staircase to the ground floor of his complex, taking your mask off and shooting him an uncovered smile over your shoulder, shocked to see him doing the same. With a bitten lip, you hopped in your car and tried not to daydream about him too much. Though, you knew yourself well enough to ever think that would be possible.

•••

Frankie was in the middle of watching Once Upon A Time In Hollywood, wrapped up in a blanket to try and soothe the chills and muscle aches that had just set in when she Facetimed him. Blowing his nose, he tried to make himself look half-presentable before answering the call, grinning when he saw her smiling face.

“Am I interrupting anything?” She asked with a sweet voice, a voice that he could imagine stirring him awake in the mornings and soothing him to sleep at night.

“Just watching a movie and trying not to think about being sick,” he joked, earning a light chuckle. “How are you? Was the rest of your day pretty easy?”

“Well, after leaving your place, I ate the tacos—great, by the way.” He nodded and gave her a look of pride. “But then I had a customer throw her smoothie on me because it was runnier than usual.”

“Plot twist, she was only ordering in hopes of seeing Jeremy H.,” she giggled at that, his chest swelling with pride at the sound he was able to draw from her. “I’m sorry that people suck.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged but he shook his head.

“No, it isn’t.” He watched her give him a tender look, his palm itching to splay out on her cheek.

“You’re right. It isn’t.” She breathed out something along the lines of a laugh, her eyes looking away from the screen for a moment. “So…I’m trying to figure out why someone like you is still single. Coming up short.”

Frankie let out a small laugh as he tried to think of a way to word his past without scaring her off immediately. He had plenty of skeletons in his closet, and if they all fell out at once, no one in their right mind would be able to handle it.

“Well,” he chuckled, eyes flickering to his lap. “Guess I don’t really have a good knack for finding things that are good for me. Or if they’re good, they never seem to stay that way.”

“I get that,” she spoke softly, as though she was trying to earn the trust of a skiddish animal. Perhaps she was.

“I, uh, was engaged a month and a half-ish ago. But, truthfully it hadn’t been a real relationship for almost two years.” He watched her reactions carefully, ready to stop sharing at any point if she appeared to get uncomfortable with the subject, but he was only met with an understanding nod and a softened look. “I have a kid—a baby. She’s nine months old. Anyways, she was a surprise, but we stayed together for her sake. But that ended for the best. Haven’t really thought about getting back out there until…”

“Until you met the world’s most competent DoorDash driver.” He chuckled and nodded, delightfully surprised at how well she was handling his past. “Well, I’m very proud of you for not settling. For choosing yourself. I’m sure your baby girl will be very thankful it happened early on rather than later down the road.”

“Yeah,” he smiled softly, feeling cozy and not at all from the blanket wrapped around him. It was her. Her voice, her humor, the way she strung a sentence together. “What about you? Why hasn’t the world’s most competent DoorDash driver been taken off the market yet?”

“The market is horseshit,” she chided with a dry tone, earning a laugh from him. “I don’t know. Men are so…not it.”

Another laugh. She was good at that.

“Yeah, we’re not great.”

“Nope,” she giggled and he felt his heart race. “Besides, I find it really hard to click with guys. Like, I’m not an idiot, you know? I’m not gonna pretend to be ditzy and cute to make them feel superior, and that usually is the nail in the coffin for my dates.”

“I like how smart you are. I feel like I can have a conversation with you—a mutually interested conversation, you know?” She faked a yawn and he let out a gasped laugh of shock, her giggles filling the room. “You know what? I take it back.”

“Ya know, I really like talking to you, Frankie.” Her confession quieted his laughter, his eyes softening as he looked into hers through the screen. “It feels easy.”

“It does,” he agreed with a smile. “I like how much you make me laugh.”

“I like making you laugh.”

God, his heart was already pounding on the inside of his chest, demanding to be set free so that it could go to its rightful home—the palm of her hands.

“Hey, when I’m Covid free next week, would you maybe want to go on a socially distanced date? We can go to the park, wear our masks. Try to have a normal-ish time in this very not normal world?” She bit her lip, her grin bringing the slightest of dimples in her cheeks as she nodded.

“I’d really like that.” He let out an exhale of relief, for the first time in a long time feeling excited about the future. “But until then, promise me we’ll keep having these Facetimes. I…really like talking to you. I feel like there’s so much I could pick your brain about.”

“Same here.” The pair found themselves staring at each other for a few seconds in comfortable silence, this new and budding friendship making them both feel giddy in a way they hadn’t been used to. “Starting with…what on earth made you want to be an aerospace engineer?”

“Well,” she chuckled and looked mildly embarrassed. “It’s gonna sound silly, but I watched Iron Man when it came out—I think I was like…14? Anyways, I just thought engineering was so cool, but I didn’t want to do the normal shit. And I’ve always had an affinity for space, so…it all just clicked.”

“You’re so cool.” He couldn’t help but to tell her that. He really did find her so interesting and…cool. Whatever that word meant, she was it. “So you’re wanting to go into NASA or something like that?”

“Hopefully! I interned at a Boeing factory last summer and decided that it was too…I don’t know. Too corporate for me. But the year before that, I volunteered at a STEM Camp for high schoolers and one of the guest speakers was from NASA, and it felt like a better fit. But I’ve got to finish my grad degree first before I can even think of applying to one of their programs.” He could listen to her talk about this all day long, her passion for her career matching his own. “What about you? Have you always wanted to be a pilot?”

“Pretty much,” he smiled at her ability to bring him back into the conversation. “I grew up in a Latino household and we never really had a ton of money to go on planes and all that, but I remember my first plane ride was when I was ten. I just got such a high being in the air. Sat by the window and pretended that it was me flying the thing, and ever since then I’ve been hooked.”

“You mentioned getting your license back?” She asked, and he could sense her hesitation in bringing it up.

“Yeah, I, uh…got into a little bit of trouble about a year ago.” He scratched the scruffy beard on his chin, debating on whether or not to tell her the whole story.

“Frankie, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I just want to tell you that I’m a very understanding person. I’m not easily scared off by skeletons and ghosts from the past. I care more about the you that’s in front of me presently—and he seems pretty great.” He bit his lip to try and hide the smitten grin trying to grow on his face—one that would give away just how into her he really was.

“Well,” he took a deep breath, putting all of his pride aside in the name of honesty. “I’ve struggled with addiction, and I got drug tested…so, bye-bye license. But, uh, I’ve been sober since then. Since the baby arrived, I just…I don’t see it being an issue anymore. When it was just me, it was easy to be destructive like that, but…not anymore. I don’t want her to grow up without a dad, or worse, with a dad who’s a deadbeat.”

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she gave him a gentle smile, one that assured him his admission hadn’t shaken her. “And I’m very proud of you for choosing sobriety. I come from a long line of addicts, so…I know exactly how difficult it is to beat.”

“You’re sickeningly likable, do you know that? Like…nauseating, really.” She laughed and flipped her hair over her shoulder, making him chuckle. “I’m glad we met.”

“I’m glad we met too.”

He needed to sleep, he could feel it in his aching bones and dry eyes, but god, did he wish he could force himself to stay awake just to hear her go on about anything. But, the sleep was beating his heart’s desire, a yawn slipping from his lips.

“You should get some rest, Mr. Covid.” He smiled and nodded, his eyes studying her pretty face for a little bit longer. “Feel free to call me or text me in the morning, okay?”

“I will,” he nodded and took a deep breath. “Thank you for…being you.”

“What a sap,” she teased. “Thank you for being so open with me. You’re a breath of fresh air, Frankie Morales, apartment 507.”

“Goodnight, querida.”

“Goodnight, handsome.”

•••

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[supernaturalgirl20]

Say it Again!

Pairings: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, oral (male receiving), cursing, alight sub/dom, secret relationship, fluff.

A/N: req by @movievillainess721 with prompts: ‘when you mouth off and the pin you against the wall, say it again and we will both find out what your mouth can do.’ & ‘ I can’t promise it won’t hurt.’

Hope you enjoy 😉

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

You were so fucking horny.

Frankie was two seats up from you - Santi and Will, in between - and he was wearing that flannel shirt you loved. His hair a curly mess under his cap. That fucker knew what he was doing and he was doing it so well.

You and Frankie have been fucking for almost a year. No one knew, not even the guys. It’s not that you were ashamed - quite the opposite - but Frankie didn’t want anything to get back to his ex, for fear that she would keep Sophia from him. You desperately wanted more, you loved him, but if this was all you could have then - you’d settle for that.

He was like a drug you couldn’t get enough of. The feel of his hands roaming your naked body, the smell of him on your skin - it was intoxicating. Your eyes meet and he winks at you, that devilish smirk on his face as he takes a swig of his beer. Oh he is out to tease tonight. Two can play at that game.

You wrap your arm around Santi’s, your hand groping his muscles. “Jesus Santi…you’re huge.”

He spits his beer out and a small blush creeps onto his face as he slowly turns to face you. “What? Hmm…what?”

“Your arms, they’re huge. Do you work out?”

“A little..mostly though it’s from the job ya know.”

“I bet it’s not the only thing that’s huge!”

His face was beat red as he coughed up his beer again. He was a flustered mess. You chance a glance at Frankie and sure enough he’s looking at you, well glaring would be be more accurate. His grip on the beer bottle turning his knuckles white.

“I…uh…em…”

“I bet you know how to show a girl a good time, am I right?”

“Well, I’ve had no complaints,” he says, slowly starting to get his confidence back. He glances quickly at Frankie and you silently wonder why, before he turns back to you with a nervous smile. Odd!

He keeps sneaking glances at Frankie and fidgeting nervously as you keep your arm around him. Standing abruptly, you slip past Santi and Will and when you come to Frankie you make sure to push your ass out a little. He coughs trying to cover the groan slipping past his lips but you heard it anyway. With a devilish smile you make your way to the bathroom, making sure to sway your hips as you go.

As you go to close the door, Frankie stops it with his foot. He pushes it open and is quick to close and lock it. He turns to you with a growl and pushes you against the tiled wall.

“Someone’s jealous. Worried Santi can fuck me better?”

“Say it again and we will both find out what your mouth can do.”

“Promises, promises.”

He grabs your face a little roughly - just how you like - and tilts it towards him. “Get on your knees!”

A shiver runs up your spine and your legs shake a little at his commanding tone. “Did I stutter? On your knees.”

Dropping to your knees you begin to unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers, moving them down his hips. His thick cock springs free and it’s already leaking. You glance up at him coyly beneath your eyelashes before wrapping your fist around the base, pumping slowly.

Then, you work him into your mouth, inch by inch. A low, rough groan falls from his lips as you take him deeper. Then you drag your tongue along the base of his cock, swirling along the tip until he’s panting. His hands grab onto your hair as he moves his hips, thrusting into your mouth. Oh fuck!

He pulls you off him quickly and helps you stand, before turning you around and pushing you against the sink. Angling your hips just right, his hand finds your underwear and rips them off.

“Gonna fuck you now baby, ok? I can’t promise it won’t hurt. You got me all riled up.”

“Do it. Wanna feel you Frankie, please!”

He groans into your shoulder as he lines up at your entrance and thrusts up into you. His pace is brutal. He is fucking his frustrations away and you are loving it. You love when he gets like this, when he uses you for his own pleasure.

“Oh fuck! Frankie…oh god..”

“Bet Santi couldn’t fuck you like this…..only I can baby.”

“Yes only you…just you.”

“Your mine!”

“All yours.”

He reaches around and tilts your head so you can see yourselves in the mirror. “Want you to watch me fuck you baby. Wanna see your face when you come.”

His hand snakes down to your clit, rubbing over your swollen bud as he continues to fuck into you. He knows your close - so is he - but he wants to see you come undone first.

“Oh…oh fuck…fuck Frankie I’m….I’m gonna…”

He bites into your shoulder, “come baby, come all over daddy’s cock.” You come completely undone as your cunt clenched around him. He grunts loudly into your ear as he finishes inside you, something he never does without protection.

“I wasn’t too rough baby?”

“You were perfect.”

He helps fix you up as he readjusts his belt. He kisses you passionately before pulling back and leaning into your ear. “Want you to go back out there with me dripping down your legs. Remind you who you belong to.” Oh god you were horny again. This man was going to be the death of you.

“Wait five minutes before you leave.” He kisses you on the cheek and then he’s gone. When you finally leave you can feel his gaze on you and when you go to move past him he pulls you into his lap. You’re completely shocked as he wraps his arms possessively around you. What is he doing?

He leans in a little, his lips grazing your neck. “Want everyone to know your my girl.” His girl! You could feel the tears begin to form and you were trying really hard not to cry. He tilts your chin towards him before he leans in and kisses you softly. You can feel Will and Santi staring but you don’t care. Frankie is finally showing the world your his.

He pulls away reluctantly and he has the most beautiful smile on his face. Hi thumb rubs along your bottom lip and he looks you straight in the eyes, “Te amo, mi amor.”

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[milkymoon2483]

Tension | episode 2 - The perks of the job.

Series Masterlist

Previous | Next

Pairing: Francisco Morales x female reader

WC: ~4200

Summary: Frankie has to see you again, so he comes for another massage. Heavy flirting ensues as the tension between you two rises. 

Disclaimer: Same as the last time basically; I’m not a massage therapist. The thoughts and actions described in this one are, as the title says, unprofessional. I do not mean to sexualise the job massage therapists do. I only mean to oil Frankie up in order to eventually serve you all with some deep-fried filthy smut, like you deserve.

*There are edible massage oils. Google says so.

Rating: E. for all episodes. MINORS DNI.

Warnings: heavy flirting, curse words, detailed description of massage, very unprofessional thoughts, descriptions of masturbation, SMUT (but it’s a fantasy), sex toys. 

The perks of the job.

Frankie was nervous again.

The weak orgasm he forced out of himself in a rush barely helped, but it was still better than nothing. He feared that when you lay your hands on him, his body might betray him. 

The clock showed 17:25, after taking too long in the shower he barely had time to get dressed before making the thirty minute drive.

He knocked on your door, heart pounding slightly faster than he'd like, hoping you would forgive him for being a few minutes late.

There he was, tall and scruffy and soft. 

He smiled wider this time, revealing a dimple on his left cheek. It made your heart skip a beat. 

"Frankie! Come on in" you chimed, smiling back. 

His gentle gaze scanned you up and down, resting on your breasts for a fraction of a second too long. Was your cleavage a little deeper than last time? You betcha. Did you swap the sports bra for a push up? Yes ma'am, you sure did.

Good job, boobs. You’re doing great. You smirked to yourself as you led him after you to the treatment room.

You wondered if he'd received your text, and why he chose to ignore it, and maybe it didn't matter. After all, he did show up. 

“Can I check on your shoulder before we begin?” You asked, with the intention of getting him reacquainted with your touch. 

“Sure” he nodded as he sat on the bed. 

Frankie could swear your fingers conducted electricity and he fought the urge to flinch, keeping perfectly still, trying to steady his breath. You prodded deeper into the muscle, humming in approval when you noted the knot was almost gone. You stood a bit closer this time, and you could smell his shampoo from his still-damp hair, reminding yourself that soon you’ll be able to run your fingers through it.  

“I can see your shoulder much better, how are you feeling? Anything you’d like me to focus on today?”

Tell me what you want, Frankie.

“It is actually much better. I’m just a little stressed out. So do your worst” He chuckled at his own response, hoping that it didn’t sound too much like ‘I just desperately wanted you to touch me again’.

You bit your lip and smirked, thankful he could not see the mischief in your eyes.

Careful what you wish for now…

“Okay then, I’ll let you get settled”

********

Your hands tingled with excitement as you entered the room again. The image of you rubbing them together in anticipation like an anxious little fly crossed your mind, and you stifled a giggle with a cough. 

Frankie’s fingers and toes wiggled, the buzz of expectancy intensifying throughout his body with every passing moment. Your’e so eager this is embarrassing. He told himself off. 

He let out a little purr of relief as soon as you laid your hands on him.

You smoothed your palms over the sheet that covered him, grounding him into the mattress, helping the nervous little buzz dissolve. You squeezed him gently, on his back, and along his arms and legs. The weight of your hands drew his nerve endings closer to the surface of his skin. He wanted more, greedy and impatient, he wanted all of you on top of him, pressing against him. He almost melted into the mattress right there and then.

You rolled the sheet down and scanned the broad expanse of him, as if reading a battle map, clocking all of the vulnerable spots that begged for your hands. He seemed even more touch-starved for some reason, or maybe it was just your own wishful thinking, like you could heal something deep within him, something more than sore muscles.

As you began tucking the sheet into his boxers you couldn't help but notice, tiny cartoon helicopters were scattered on the navy blue fabric. This time your giggle came too fast for you to stop.

“Well, aren’t those just adorable” you said, very much amused.

“huh?” he huffed, and then it dawned on him. “I wore the helicopter boxers, didn’t I?” He scrunched his face in an embarrassed smile.

“You sure did. I like them, they’re cute.”

“I was in such a hurry I didn’t really notice what I grabbed. They were a gift, a joke really, cause I’m a helicopter pilot..”

"Get in the choppa!" You attempted your most ridiculous Schwarzenegger imitation, earning a burst of laughter from Frankie. 

“Did Joel get them for you? I know you work together” 

“Nope, nooo, that would be weird. Actually, my ex did. I’m glad you like them.” He replied shyly.

Ex, Interesting.

“I really do” You added, giggling softly yet again

“Hey! Stop laughing at my silly boxers, everybody’s got a pair of ridiculous underwear. I bet you do too.”

Frankie’s tone was amused but he almost bit his tongue off, hoping to god he didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. This wasn't like him, to be so talkative. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know” You replied flirtatiously, cocking a brow. Cool as a cucumber.

He chuckled and swallowed hard. So hard you could see his jaw clench.

He fucking would like to know. 

You burst in laughter again and he joined you in a full blown giggle fit. His laugh was lovely, all scrunched eyes and soft cheeks, and that dimple that was calling your name. 

It took you a few moments to settle, and you felt your chest swell with affection. You wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in his hug.  

The hot drizzle of oil was heavenly, like a magical light dripping from your fingers, illuminating and warming him up from within. He almost knew what to expect now and it only made him more sensitive. 

You began with his back, spreading the warmth along his spine, applying pressure that brought immediate relief with each stroke of your palms. 

You marveled at his skin, scattred with little marks and freckles, soft and tender under your fingers. You could not compartmentalize his body, divide it into skin and muscle and tendons and bones. It was him, and you wanted to touch him and bring him pleasure and revel in his every reaction.

Frankie obliged your unspoken wish. He purred constantly now, not attempting to hide it anymore, rewarding you for every single motion. 

He wished he could look at you while you worked. He imagined the deft and elegant movements of your hands, in the flow of a dance you have performed a thousand times before. He always thought that watching someone in their element was incredibly sexy.

You moved to his side, draping his arm over the edge of the bed. You began with his deltoids and biceps, kneading from the edge of his shoulder and down his upper arm, sliding and pushing into the slightly taut muscle until it yielded. 

After dripping hot oil onto the pulse point on his wrist, you ran gentle circles and slid up towards the elbow to spread the oil. You proceeded to press both thumbs down and slide towards his palm, earning yourself an especially sweet purr, bordering on a moan. He never imagined how tense his arms were and the slide of your fingers felt divine. But when your fingers moved towards his palm, that's when he was really stunned. 

You reached his large hand, stretching it between your two smaller ones, running spheres with your thumbs on his palm and pressing into the small muscles. Tingles danced across his body, on the crown of his head, between his ears, down the small of his back. He was silent now, solely focused on the sensation that made his breath hitch. You laced your fingers with his, pushing on his knuckles to deepen the stretch, and then pulled on each finger from base to tip. Dirty thoughts swirled in his mind, progressively worsening with each digit you pulled. He wanted to feel your mouth on them, wondered if your little pussy would squeeze his cock just as tightly when you came.

Jesus christ, she’s trying to kill me. 

Frankie's eyes rolled back in pleasure, the tingles reached his jaw and ran along his limbs, a sensation both gentle and overwhelming, the likes of which he never felt before. 

"ah...just like that" 

It came out as a whisper, under his breath, but you both knew you heard every single word. 

You bit your lip as a soft breathy chuckle escaped your nose.

"I'll take that as a compliment" you whispered back. 

Frankies ears burned, Oh, fuck it…

"You should" he replied, with a soft unmistakable drawl to his voice. 

“I will” Your breath caught in your throat. 

Frankie was pleased with himself when he heard you exhale sharply. 

“Good”.

It was your turn to swallow hard.

He got you downright flustered as fuck. Heart racing, heat pooling in the apex of your thighs, belly full of knots and butterflies and nervous little flies rubbing their hands together.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. Two can play this game.

When you began working on his other arm you watched his reactions closely. Your fingers spread wider now, reaching further, touching him as teasingly as you could without compromising the actual technique of the massage.

Frankie’s face remained infuriatingly calm. Eyes closed, soft purrs emanating from his parted lips, but nothing that betrayed his composure. 

When you reached his other hand, however, he seemed to struggle to keep his features poised.

His brows furrowed and he bit his bottom lip, muttering a tiny barely whispered “fuck”.

Frankie was struggling. What with? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but a good answer would be “everything”. To keep his composure, to keep his mouth shut, to refrain from babbling about how your touch made his skin ache with pleasure. 

Why the fuck does this have to feel so..fuck..so good. Dontstopdontstop… Please don't stop…Jesus.

The tingles were back, even stronger this time, sending tentacles down his spine and straight into his cock. He tried thinking about Joel, about work, about gray concrete and dirt and traffic jams, but each slide of your fingers on his hand sent a new wave of delight through him, and all he could think of was you.

You showed him no mercy. You made sure you had plenty of oil, pulling each digit, sliding back up the finger and pulling yet again, watching his expression turn almost pained.  

Poor baby, I’m just getting started.

When your hands left his, a part of him felt relieved. Thankfully he was able to fend off the impending boner just in time. Another minute of your ministrations and he would be done for.

You moved to massage his legs, unveiling the right one from beneath the sheet. Frankie was equal parts nervous and excited at this point, wondering what sensations you’ll pull from him and how affected his cock will be. 

His legs were lanky and muscular. You could see the long elegant line of his gastrocnemius under the taut skin of his calves. You poured the oil onto the sensitive spot at the back of Frankie's knee, knowing the heat will spread gently towards his groin. 

Your hands spread the oil downward and began the slow climb back up his calf, running over the muscle repeatedly and slowly building up the pressure. Frankie’s purr was accompanied with a little groan. 

“Hurts?” you asked.

“Yeah..s’good though” He replied through gritted teeth. You knew the sharp sting he was referring to all too well. 

“Want me to keep going?” 

“Yeah..mhmmm” 

“Look at you being so brave” Your tone was more amused now.

“You mock my pain” 

“Mhm, One of the perks of the job” 

You couldn’t help but tease him, it was just too much fun, he was just too sweet, too cooperative. 

Your hands reached the back of his knee now, and you began scaling them up his thigh, making sure to avoid his inner thigh as much as possible, only granting him a small little swipe towards the end. Just a little taste.

You could feel him clench immediately at the delicate touch, to your absolute delight.

So sensitive. 

When you asked Frankie to turn around after you finished his other leg, he prayed to Jesus, Mary and all the saints that his insubordinate dick will remain calm. Mercifully it decided to respect his authority. 

Frankie smiled at you softly, before closing his eyes again. If he’d kept looking at you he would have to reach out and pull you closer, he’d lick his lips and cradle the nape of your neck, before kissing you slowly, languidly. It would simply be inevitable. As he was laying defenseless before you, closing his eyes was the only possible way for him to avoid doing that.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself.

“Are you going to crack my neck again?” He asked, sounding a little apprehensive.

“I was actually planning on something else, but I can do that, since you seemed to enjoy it so much last time”

Frankie chuckled, “Yeah, it almost gave me a heart attack, t’was unforgettable.”

“Glad to hear I had such a lasting impression on you”

I just can’t help myself with this one, can I?

“You definitely did”

“I'm that bad, huh?” You said playfully as your hands began to slide on his upper pecs, kneading below his clavicles and towards his armpit. 

“Even worse” 

You hummed in satisfaction, sliding fingers up his long neck and behind his ears.

You proceeded to gently pinch his earlobes between your thumb and index, rubbing softly from lobe to helix and down again.

Frankies breath was heavier and sharper now, brows a little furrowed as wave after wave of goosebumps crashed into him, running down his spine.

Just to put the final proverbial nail in his coffin, your fingers laced through this hair, scratching his scalp and pulling on his strands ever so gently. 

This wasn’t a massage technique per-se, but you could admit that the temptation of seeing his blissed out expression again was too great to avoid. 

Frankie delivered spectacularly. Even from your angle above him you could see it, every crease in his face smoothed, every muscle relaxed, lips parted, jaw slacked.

"How are you feeling?" You asked softly as you ran a few final strokes on his arms.

"Great, yeah" he replied quietly, his eyes still closed.

He couldn’t quite put into words the feeling of being both turned on and fucked out.

"Ok then, take your time, I'll wait outside." 

Frankie was left alone, a mixture of conflicting emotions that he could not decipher flooded him all at once. Your touch did things to him that he couldn’t explain. It was all new to him. And it seemed like you were perfectly comfortable flirting with him, but under these circumstances it might as well be just some friendly banter. 

While he was still inside the treatment room, your mind was running a mile a minute. You desperately didn't want him to leave. 

He finally came out ,even scruffier and softer looking than before, the decision seemed easier.

"So…you were my last appointment for today, and I'm going to make myself some tea, would you like some?"

You tried to remain calm but your heart was beating violently. 

He might not even get the painfully obvious message, men are dumb like that, just see what he says… 

"Hmmm yeah, sure, I'd love some" Frankie replied, smiling widely and scratching the back of his neck.

He hated tea, but he got the message. 

"Earl Grey, Camomile, or Jasmin?" 

You asked, suddenly feeling too shy to talk about anything other than said tea. 

"I'll have whatever you're having" he replied.

It all tastes like dirt water anyway.

He watched you silently as you prepared the tea. You reached for the mugs (he wished they'd be on a higher shelf so you would need his help) as he was free to admire the curve of your ass in your white work pants, imagining you wearing a very delicate, flesh toned lacy thong, so it wouldn't be visible through the light material.

You placed the camomile-mint tea bags into the mugs and poured the boiling water, stirring a little bit of honey into both cups.

Frankie couldn't help but chuckle at his mug. It had drawings of several colorful tit birds. "Nice Tits" was written in black cursive. 

He took a careful sip but almost choked and sprayed the tea through his nostrils when you placed your mug next to his. It looked like the Pizza Hut logo, but said "Pizza Slut". 

He laughed uncontrollably and you joined him. "It's a complete sentence" he was barely able to speak. "Nice tits, pizza slut" you continued, giggling so hard that tears began to form in your eyes. 

"I like mugs with sexual puns, theyr'e ideal ice breakers" you explained, still very much giggly. 

"Sure seems to work" 

Frankie took another sip, noting that the tea was better than he expected. 

"I like this tea" 

"I'm glad you do. I like your dimple" You hoped that was obvious enough, in case the tea invitation didn't get the message across. 

"I bet you say that to all dimples"

"I do, they're great"

You bit your bottom lip, looking at him shyly through your lashes. 

"This is why my dimple has trust issues"

Frankie smirked, he could do this all day. When your hands weren't on him, bewitching him, he was back to being his old calm and patient self.

"I bet you see nice looking dimples every day" 

"I do, but I've got my favorites" 

"I'll take it as a compliment" 

"You should"

You definitely should, Frankie. 

"I will"

"Good" 

You both chuckled simultaneously now. 

"I have to get going, thanks for the tea, and the massage of course" 

He said softly, laying a large palm on your shoulder. 

"You're very welcome" you replied, focused solely on how warm and heavy his hand feels.

You walked him to the door silently, dragging your feet with every step. 

The air was thick and heavy as you stood by the door, much closer to each other now. Your skin buzzed with the need to be touched.

He held your chin gently, lifting your face towards him, his coffee brown eyes were slightly hooded, lips parted. 

You swallowed thickly.

Kiss me already.

"Bye, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and soft. His lips were so close to yours now, you could feel the ghost of his warm breath on your face. 

He tilted your head slightly to the side, laying a tender, lingering kiss on your cheek, dragging the tip of his nose ever so gently on your flesh. 

Motherfucker.

You blinked at him slowly, shocked at the audacity of this man, as he closed the door behind him, and left you just…standing there, breathless and desperate for a kiss that never came. 

Frankie was many things, but impatient wasn’t one of them. 

*******

It took you a while to erase the shocked and frustrated expression from your face. 

The self doubt came shortly after. You felt doomed to overanalyze your exchange, caught in a vicious cycle of being so fucking turned on by his composure and self control, to questioning if he was interested in the first place.

Your continuous flirting left little room for misunderstandings, yet there he stood, in that little room, awfully pleased with himself.

When you were finally in bed you allowed your thoughts to wander, and wander they did. 

To that smug, charming, soft, tall asshole. 

Fuck. You wanted to kiss him. Those soft lips, gentle creased puppy dog eyes, that dimple, the large warm hands… The more you kept thinking about him, the longer that list got.

And that fucking kiss on the cheek… A fucking kiss on the cheek. It was laced with so much potential and promise it almost felt like a whisper of all the dirty things he’d like to do to you. That tender little drag of his nose at the end… goddamn it. You groaned and slapped an open palm on your bed in frustration. 

You needed to remind yourself that he was practically a stranger, you only saw him twice. Surely, the massage created a false sense of intimacy, but maybe it was all in your head? Maybe your mind was so clouded by this affect he has on you, that you were willing to risk your reputation and professionalism for a chance to fuck him..? 

Treating him again would be a bad idea. 

Touching yourself was the next logical step, otherwise you wouldn't be able to sleep, being so wound up. You pushed the button and pressed the tip of the vibrator just under your clit, moving it gently against your folds, the buzz rippled through you, causing warmth to pool at your belly. It’s been a while since you turned to porn, but tonight you just wanted a quick release that will help you sleep. Scrolling through thumbnail after thumbnail of cocks and pussies and breasts and blowjobs, absolutely nothing made you want to press play. You huffed and tossed your phone aside.  Now you were attempting to pull a trusty fantasy from your mind, one that always did the trick, the one involving your highschool science teacher bending you over his desk, calling you a ‘good girl’. It all seemed blurry and patchy, like a cassette tape that’s been played and rewinded far too many times.

Fine.

I give up.

You leave me no choice, Francisco.

He’s laying on the massage bed, relaxed and warm and pliant as you lay on top of him. Your hips straddle his and you can feel his hard length through the thin material of his boxers.

You grind on him and he moans into your mouth. His lips are soft, so soft, and he tastes like the camomile-mint tea you made for him. 

He kisses you languidly, unhurried, tasting you, tongue gently swiping against yours. His long arms surround you, warm calloused palms roaming over your smaller frame, they finally rest on the swell of your ass, tips of his fingers brush ever so gently between the cheeks, causing a surge of arousal. 

You pull yourself up, pressing your core against him, he holds your hips and guides your movements. “Can you feel how hard you're making me baby? Fuck you’re so pretty” He looks up at you reverently. Mesmerized, blissed out, his eyes are almost black. 

You bucked your hips at the toy as you felt the heat pool between your folds.

You take his hands into your own, they are heavy and warm. You turn them so the palms are facing upwards. Reaching for the oil bottle, you pump some into his hands. He rubs them together, warming up the oil, and then lays them on your bare chest. His fingers brush gently against your nipples that stiffen at the touch. Your skin glows as he spreads the oil on the valley between your breasts and continues to massage the plump flesh that peeks and spills between his large fingers. 

You move lower, and pull his boxers down, revealing his heavy cock, stiff and dripping with precum. You pump some oil into your palm and spread it gently on his length. His eyes roll back in pleasure, he moans louder now, biting his bottom lip. His hips buck upwards into your fist. His grunts are desperate and breathy, god he sounds gorgeous. 

You're were so wet, practically dripping as you slotted the toy into your entrance, pushing the blunt tip in and out, gently fucking it into yourself. 

His breath hitches as you lean in and  place his throbbing length between your breasts, the softness gently envelops him, he reaches and pushes them together, so he can slot himself between them, the oil makes the slide of his cock deliciously smooth. "Fuck baby…fuuuuuck, your'e so fucking soft. Just like that, please baby, just like that" he cries out, lost in bliss, fucking himself in between your oiled up tits. 

Each time the fat tip comes up between them, you take it into your mouth, mixing your spit with the oil, making the slide wetter, messier. The wet squelch of his thrusts, his moans and grunts and curses, your little whimpers on his cock, it all sounds so filthy and debauched.

He looks down at you, fucked out and dumb with lust, and watches as his cock disappears between your breasts only to be swallowed by your warm mouth. “Gonna cum all over your perfect tits..fuck baby” He begins to burst, grunting lowdly,  coating you in thick hot ropes of creamy white. 

The thought of him falling apart pushed you over the edge so swiftly it almost caught you off guard, as if you were kicked off the edge of a cliff.  Wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you. You whimpered as your body was flooded with warm bliss. 

The orgazm's aftershocks subsided, but then you were flooded again, with a need more desperate than the one you started out with. It only made you hungrier, only emphasized what didn’t happen. What am I gonna do with you, Frankie? 

Your eyelids felt incredibly heavy as they inevitably draped over your exhausted eyes. Sleep enveloped you within a minute, pulling you into a dreamless slumber. 

Fin.

Thank you so much again.

@romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @astroboots @welcometostayingawake @damnyoupedro @kirsteng42 @jump-over-my-fence

[pettyprocrastination]

OH you don’t have to feel obligated to write if you’ve got things to do ^^’ (I won’t say NO but just that I wasn’t trying to get sum’n out of it on my end you feel?: I did see a recent reminder for divorced Frankie though - any thoughts/thots you’d care to spare?)

IM SO SORRY ITS TAKEN ME SO LONG TO GET BACK TO YOU ON THIS BUT I HAVE SOME INCREDIBLY SPECIFIC FRANKIE THOUGHTS (that will be turned into a fic eventually i promise im writing it i SWEAR)

he is in his heart and soul, a project dad/husband. this means that this man? always fixing some shit or starting a new project around the house. You cannot stop him.

you guys get a fixer upper house when you first get married. It's below your pay with some issues here and there, but frankie worked contracting jobs with his dad since highschool and took wood shop every year so he insists he can fix it.

you'll come home to power tools scattered on the dinner table and paint covering his pants because "why would I pay somebody twice the amount it's worth when I can just do it myself?"

if you go to the thrift store with this man and point something out saying "we could fix that up, don't you think." please be prepared to come home and find him working on it in the backyard.

he's covered in saw dust and has the imprint line of his goggles around his face but he's grinning and pulling you into his arms.

"jesus christ francisco" "what? You said that dresser would look nice in our room"! "but i didn't think you were going to actually get it!"

your clothes getting covered in sawdust and wood-stain as he kisses you and claims its "workman's comp"

francisco cursing up a storm while reading the instructions on a crib your mother bought from ikea because "these instructions are like the fucking davinci code" and tossing them aside before saying fuck it and making his own.

a beautifully crafted bassinet now sits in the nursery of baby Isabella Morales :')

After the divorce, this doesn't change.

There's a moment where something breaks and you turn to tell Francisco before realizing he isn't there.

You wait until after you drop elizabeth off at school to cry.

thirty minutes later youre at home when the somebody knocks at the door.

there's a tension, sure. you open the door to see your ex-husband standing there, toolbox in hand and mouth open like he wanted to say something but it dies in your throat at the sight of your red eyes and trembling lip. 

“frankie?” 

“Isabella.” he answers. “she uh, she called me.” 

part of you wanted to be mad. That elizabeth told her father that you needed help, that you were struggling. Another part wanted to be mad that she was using her phone at school which was a whole other conversation to be had

but you simply nodded and stepped to the side, savoring the way his hand grazed yours as he walked inside. 

he doesn’t mention that you haven’t taken the photos down of all three of you together, he simply opens the cupboard under the sink and gets to work. 

its the closest thing to domesticity he’s had since the divorce. the pair of you subconsciously slipping back into the little idiosyncrasies from years ago. 

you put a pot of coffee on as he grumbles and grunts under the sink, poorly disguising a laugh as a cough when he goes to sit up and smacks his head on the pipe. 

shuffling from underneath with a now red mark on his forehead as he points a scolding finger in your direction. “you are horrible.” but you hand him a warm cup of coffee and he forgives instantly. 

you sit in silence, shoulder to shoulder on the kitchen floor. 

the job is done. he could leave, go back home with a goodbye and ‘I’ll pick Isa up this friday.” before going back to his small apartment that would feel even smaller after having a taste of what home used to be with you. 

But he doesn’t. he sits in silence, savoring the way you foot sways back and forth on the tile floor until you finally speak. 

“I’m proud of you. You know that?” Your voice is tiny and frail and you tilt your head to look at him. 

My god he could just cry. 

“I’m really proud of you, Frankie. Me and Isabella both are. You know that, right?” 

Did you have any idea? what you were doing to him? 

the love of his life, the mother of his daughter and the reason he was still on this earth, staring at him with such emotion and love in your eyes he felt like a voyeur just for looking at you. 

He looks away, down at the chipped cup in his hands, one you got on a roadtrip when Isabella was only 2. 

Francisco doesn’t trust his voice to not fail him. So he only nods. 

You look up at the clock and curse. 

“what? what’s wrong?” 

you shoot up, feet sliding on the floor as you scurry forward. “Isa! I was supposed to pick her up from school ten minutes ago!” 

you grab your keys in a mad dash, barely sparing a glance over your shoulder to the man you married. 

“You wanna come with?” 

He stares at you, slack jawed and silent. 

“You would let me-” 

“of course. We can..get lunch. I think it’d be good for her, yeah?” 

Isabella doesn’t say anything when you pick her up from school. 

She was ready to snip that you were late, and its embarrassing to be picked up late, but then she noticed frankie sitting in the front seat and smiling at her. 

“Good day at school mija?” 

she doesn’t ask if this means you’re getting back together, or why you’re both picking her up or why his hand rests on the console, occasionally grazing your arm as you drive. 

“It was okay. Can we get Burger King? I’m hungry.” 

she just enjoys it. The little look she sees you give her father as she inSIST on ordering a strawberry milkshake despite the fact she never finishes them, and the way he holds out his hand behind the seat for her to give him fries and the way you laugh when he holds one up to your mouth at a stop light. 

she should clog the garbage disposal more often. 

[kikis-writing-world]

Whole Enchilada

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Words: ~2k

This is a silly, self-indulgent drabble. I got one of those delivery meal kits and it came with enchiladas. I fucked them up. They were edible, but they weren’t good. Well, in the few days since The Incident, this formed in my mind. I was just excited to be writing anything again. Hope you enjoy it.

Also, while I don’t think I say so much in words, I usually write Frankie with Chilean heritage for obvious reasons. I know enchiladas aren’t Chilean, but I wanted to pay tribute to the dish that started it. That’s also why I start with Santiago bringing them up. I just don’t want anyone coming at me about mixing up cultures :)

Not proofread or betaed. I don’t believe there are any warnings but read on at your own risk.

Frankie felt reinvigorated as he pulled into the driveway, the fatigue of a long day at work making way for the excitement and relief of making it home. He couldn’t stop the soft smile from appearing as he thought about it. He’d spent years of his life chasing a home, never quite finding somewhere that felt right enough to set roots. His teen years were spent at friends’ houses and roaming the city, never quite feeling at home after his mother passed away. Enlisting after graduation had him traveling the world, fighting for Uncle Sam with nothing to show for it except a meager pension, a collection of scars, and a broken mind. He slid easily into drug use after he left the army, using to quiet the echoes of war that hid in the shadows of his mind. With the white powder in his veins, the need for a home didn’t feel so oppressive.

It wasn’t an easy hole to dig himself out of and he never would have gotten there without help. His brothers in arms kicking his ass back into shape, the VA and their therapy for veterans struggling to return to civilian life, and more than one stint in a rehab facility. The memory of the withdrawal was enough to make him shiver in real life. The sensation helped him shake the memory of his time in that sterile environment - the shakes, the pain, the all consuming need to use - and brought him back to the present. To his home. To you.

It took him almost 40 years to find what he was looking for and when he did, it hit him like a slap in the face. He had never found home because home wasn’t somewhere. It was someone. Meeting you had been like stepping out of a dark cave and seeing the beach for the first time. The musty, stale air replaced with refreshing ocean air, the bright sun warming his chilled, dull skin. He was a moth drawn to the bright light you introduced to his life and as long as he stayed in that light, home could be anywhere.

He pushed open the creaky door to his old, brown truck, giving himself the same mental reminder he always did to oil it one of these days. The thought was fleeting and likely to be forgotten as it had been millions of times before. As the door slammed shut behind him, his focus turned back to you, to home, just on the other side of the recently painted blue door.

The scent of chili powder hung heavy in the air, almost enough to make him cough as he crossed the threshold. It tickled at his nose and pricked at his eyes, mixing with the scent of other spices and something that smelled a little too much like something burning. Worried, He called your name through the house.

“It’s fine, it’s okay, I just-” your voice rang through the house, panicking until you cut yourself off with a loud, frustrated groan. The tap in the kitchen turned on. Frankie kicked his boots off carelessly, leaving them lopsided on the floor in favor of hurrying to your side.

The kitchen looked like a disaster in progress. A baking pan sat on top of the stove, smoke billowing up from the charred remains of… Frankie couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be. The hood above the stove was running full speed, pulling as much of the smoke out of the house as possible. A pot was sitting in the sink, water running into it and overflowing down the drain. A pan of roasted veggies sat, seemingly harmless amid the chaos. Evidence of the prep work was strewn about the counters: cutting board, knives, various spice jars.

You were a fair cook. You had a few favorite recipes you knew how to nail every time and some bigger recipes you made for potlucks or parties. Frankie had never seen you struggle to cook, which made the scene all the more shocking.

Finally, his eyes fell to you. You were sitting on the floor in front of the sink, leaning back into the cupboards behind you with your knees pulled up. Dried tear tracks cut through the flour dusted across one cheek as you picked at a loose thread on your jeans. Frankie saw the set of your jaw and the wobble of your bottom lip as you fought to keep it together.

First, Frankie reached over you to turn off the faucet. He slowly kneeled, groaning quietly as his knees popped and cracked, until he was on the floor with you.

“Mariposa, qué pasó?” He asked, resting his large, warm hands on your knees. “Are you okay?”

You nodded but avoided eye contact with him as you kept picking at the thread. He stared for a moment, wishing you’d meet his eyes. He watched as tears gathered anew along your lash line before cupping your chin softly in his hand. He lifted your face to his, leaving you with no choice but to make eye contact with him.

“What happened?” He asked again, patient as his thumb brushed away the first tear to break the dam.

“I- I was trying…” You mumbled, your voice hitching as you fought against your emotions. You took a breath and swallowed around the lump in your throat. “It’s stupid,” you shook your head as you rolled your eyes. The motion made more tears slip down your cheeks.

“It’s not stupid if you’re upset. Dime.” He prompted, brushing away more tears as they came.

You mumbled something quietly, stubborn and embarrassed. It was too low for Frankie to hear, so he quirked an eyebrow and leaned in closer, hoping you’d say it again.

You groaned, throwing your head back to thump against the cabinets. The sound echoed through the mostly-empty cabinet under the sink, making Frankie wince.

“This is all Santiago’s fault!” You cried out in frustration.

Frankie felt a wave of ice surge through him. Santiago was one of his oldest friends, but he was also one of the most reckless. Memories of Colombia flashed through his mind before he could stop them. “What did Pope do?” He asked, losing the fight to keep his voice level. His tone dropped, a dangerous, low timbre of warning.

“No, no, it’s not…” You rushed to put Frankie’s mind at ease. “It’s something he said… It’s so stupid, it shouldn’t be.”

As you rambled, Frankie stood with a long groan. Once he was at full height, he offered his hand to you. You bit your lip for a moment before accepting his help off the floor. He pulled you up easily, guiding you into his waiting arms. With your body tucked against his, he could feel the tension running through you. You gripped his flannel shirt, anchoring yourself as he ran his hand up and down your back in a comforting motion.

“What did Santiago say that made you burn…” Frankie trailed off, eyeing the pan on the oven. It had stopped smoking, so that was a good sign. He decided to play it safe, not trying to identify the mess. “Made you burn dinner?”

You didn’t answer right away, but Frankie gave you time. He nuzzled your hair as he waited for you to get your words together, smelling the scent of your shampoo under all the burnt spices in the air.

“Don’t laugh.” You finally muttered into his chest.

“Never.” He promised.

“Last week, at Benny’s place, for the barbeque…” You trailed off.

He nodded once, humming affirmatively that he remembered that night. He racked his brain, trying to remember what Santiago said that night. Nothing stuck out to him.

“He said... Hesaidthathednevermarrysomeonewhocouldntmakegoodenchiladas.” You spat out too quickly for Frankie to understand.

“Say that again?” He asked.

You pulled out of the hug, pacing as you ranted. “He said he’d never marry someone who couldn’t make good enchiladas and I realized that I don’t know how to cook enchiladas. Even worse, I don’t know how to cook empanadas or papa rellena or cazuela or anything you grew up eating and you’ll never marry me if I don’t learn how to cook something for you. You’re going to leave me for some beautiful latina who makes sopaipilla every Sunday and-”

Frankie had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, but he promised. He caught your arm as you crossed the kitchen, stopping your pacing. He held you at arms length, rubbing your arms.

“Woah, tranquila, deep breaths.” He instructed, releasing one arm to brush your hair away from your face. He took a deep breath, trying to get you to follow. You blinked up at him as you inhaled, trying to match his pace.

“Please don’t leave me for-”

Frankie silenced you with a kiss, hoping that he was silencing Santiago’s voice in your mind along with any other doubts you held. You froze against him before returning the kiss, letting him lead as he caressed your lips with his own. He wrapped his arms around you, tangling one hand in your hair while the other rested on your back, keeping you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his back in return, fisting the soft shirt across his shoulder blades.

When he pulled away, he stared down at your still closed eyes. You were breathing deeply and slower than you had been (even if it wasn’t as slowly as he’d like.) You were clearly no longer panicking.

Your dazed eyes blinked open, meeting his. You stared up at him, lips parted and kiss swollen as you caught your breath.

“I’m not leaving you. At least not over empanadas.” He grinned.

Your eyes widened, your dazed look turning into shock followed quickly by annoyance. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.” You pouted.

“And I’m not,” he pointed out, although he couldn’t stop himself from smiling over how silly you were being. “First of all, don’t listen to Santiago. He would have settled down with Alicia if she’d let him, and she couldn’t make enchiladas. She couldn’t boil water without setting something on fire.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the reminder of Alicia, a woman Santiago dated a few years back. She was fine but all wrong for him. He was blinded by love. Well, love and her body.

“Secondly, I’m not going anywhere unless you’re coming with me.” He promised. “I love your cooking, and if you want to learn more dishes, then we can learn together. No more crying over burnt empanadas, okay?”

“Okay,” you chuckled, your skin heating bashfully as Frankie leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“How about I order us some burgers and I help you clean this up?” He suggested, looking over the mess of the kitchen again.

“I would kill for a burger.” You groaned, snuggling up to Frankie as you tucked your head against his shoulder.

Frankie glanced over at the brick of charcoal on the stove - now identified as enchiladas - and fought back a laugh. “Oh don’t worry, they’re dead.”

A gasp from you was his only warning before you swatted him in the chest. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at your affronted look. You laughed with him, even as you grumbled about him under your breath as you turned to deal with the pot in the sink.

Frankie pressed a kiss to your temple, muttering “love you too,” on his way to deal with the pan on the stove.

General Taglist @generalfoolish @harriedandharassed

P*dro P*scal Taglist @ilikechocolatemilkh @spideysimpossiblegirl @eli-the-thinker @seasonschange-butpeopledont @slightlyobsessedwithissues​

Frankie Morales Taglist @sugarpunch-princess​ @slightlyobsessedwithissues​ @mrsxreeves​

[miraclesabound]

The Beginning of the End

Summary: After their family has a narrow escape from a Martian invasion, Frankie does his best to give his wife Rose some kind of Christmas. Based on HG Wells’ War of the Worlds. Angst/Action/Sci-fi with an ultimately happy ending.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Rose Morales

My Secret Santa gift for the wonderful @autumnleaves1991-blog! Thanks also to @pedrostories for hosting this event, and to @oonajaeadira who beta’d the opening scene.

Notes: This is technically a spin-off from my Max Phillips and Charli Moore stories, though set many years later. Rose, Charli’s cousin, has now been married to Frankie for about nine years. Frankie’s cousin, Maxwell Lorenzano, has gotten his shit together and has restored his relationship with the family.

Warnings/Content: Aftermath of invasion, children being sick and in peril, attempted kidnapping of a minor, short gun battle, family separation.  Discussions of hunting and food preparation, sex after a dry spell, slight praise kink, fingering, unprotected PIV sex, guilt spiral.

October 1st

“How much further, Mama?” Lily Morales asked through her coughs – they’d been troubling her for the last two days. She was curled up against her mother Rose in the back seat of a parked van. Her dad Frankie and his cousin, her Uncle Maxwell, were taking a second to stretch their legs before swapping driving duties. Maxwell’s son Alistair, perhaps the most respectful teenager Rose had known, was sitting in the middle seat next to Lily’s little sister Josie, doing his best to keep the three-year-old entertained.

“I don’t know, honey,” Rose admitted, hugging her eight-year-old a little tighter. “I do know that your daddy said this is our last rest stop before meeting up with the others.”

Rose sympathized with Lily’s exhaustion. The Martian invasion had caught the East Coast entirely by surprise two weeks ago and had swept across the country. It was only because Maxwell had a contact out here in the Rockies that the Morales and Lorenzano clans had been able to make a run for it. Thankfully, Charli and Max had already been away in Romania celebrating their anniversary with Max’s old coven, and Santi and the Millers were accounted for.

However, what should have been a manageable drive, about 40 hours or so, had ended up being closer to ten days. The main highways were damaged, and other groups they had run into had said that Martian patrols were popping up without warning. Everyone’s nerves were shot, especially when Lily’s cold had started to get bad.

Frankie settled into the driver’s seat and looked over his shoulder. “Ok, gang, we’ve got 50 more miles if we keep to the back way, and then we’ll be there. Be ready to grab your bags and go as soon as we pull up, Uncle Maxwell’s friend is waiting for us.” Rose could feel Lily’s shoulders ease with having a bit more knowledge.

When they pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned ranger station two hours later, they saw the convoy setting up to go into the mountains. There looked to be about five or six adults, each tending to a gaggle of at least seven children. One man, clearly the leader, looked over and waved them in. Maxwell got out of the van first, greeting the man with a warm handshake. When everyone was assembled and had their bags unpacked, he introduced the gentleman as Din Djarin.

Din’s demeanor was respectful, but as he took a headcount, Rose could see his mouth tighten. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“It’s six of you?”

“Yes…”

“Shit.” Rose felt her heart sink when she heard Din curse. “I think we only have room for four.”

Frankie looked like he wanted to punch Din in the nose. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Din said. “We’ll draw too much attention if you take your van too, and I don’t want to put anyone in one of our cars if they won’t have a seatbelt.”

“You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” Frankie said. “If you really think we’re going to –”

“Cuz, shut up a second,” Maxwell hissed. “Something’s wrong…” He was right – a realization rippled through the adults in the group that it was entirely too quiet around them. Even the children from the convoy had hushed, each of them clinging to their designated parent.

Din kept his voice as even as possible. “If any of you can shoot, get a gun from the lead vehicle – NOW.”

Suddenly, a horrible noise tore the air apart – the only way to describe it was that it was the same sound a lightning bolt would make if it was being strangled. A small Martian ship burst through the trees, and the frequency echoed again, making everyone clutch at their heads.

Frankie was the first to break out of the trance. He ran to the weapons cache and started searching desperately for a small caliber gun. Maxwell grabbed Josie and Alistair, and Rose pulled Lily to her side. Above them, the hull of the ship opened. A lone Martian soldier dropped out, landing on his feet – his ship’s whine was now a low hum.

Now that she could focus, Rose could see that this creature was more human than she’d imagined. He had gray skin and wore a breathing mask, but his build was almost like Frankie’s. Maybe he could be reasoned with? “Hey, if you can understand me,” she started, “you don’t have to report this, I –”

In the blink of an eye, the creature was in front of her and pulling Lily out of her arms. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Rose screamed. “Give me back my daughter!”

Instead of answering her, the creature punched Rose hard enough in the stomach to make her hit the ground. Lily screamed in fury, and she yanked her captor’s mask off, kicking and scratching wherever she could reach.  It hadn’t occurred to the alien that his captive might fight back, and when Lily landed a particularly nasty gash across his eye, he dropped her to attempt to cover the wound.

Lily was crawling to Rose’s side when gunshots rang out, and she heard what sounded like the Martian ship crashing behind her in the trees. She didn’t dare look back, instead turning her gaze to the vehicle lane.  In the late afternoon light, she could just make out her dad’s silhouette holding a pistol.

“Stay put, mija, we’re coming to you.” Frankie signaled with his head, and Din followed him. They crossed the lot quickly and helped Rose and Lily back to the rest of the family.

Once everyone was back together, Din said, “We need to get going right now – his squadron will be coming to collect his body.” Lily started coughing again from the exertion she’d just been through, and Frankie patted her shoulder. “Have you come to a decision?” Din asked.

“Frankie and I will stay back,” Rose said, having finally been able to breathe evenly again. “Lily and Josie need to be somewhere safe.” She felt her daughters tense up next to her, and before they could protest, she looked at Lily. “Honey, can you keep being brave? Uncle Maxwell and Alistair will be there to help you and your sister.” Lily looked like she wanted to cry, but she nodded.

“The San Juan culvert is a fortress,” Din promised. “We’ll look after the girls and make sure Lily can rest from her cold. I wouldn’t bring them with us if it wasn’t somewhere I would house my own kid.” He passed Frankie a piece of paper. “This has directions to my parents’ cabin over in Creede. I was there just before the invasion, there’s a generator, plenty of food, and good hunting. It’s yours for as long as you need it – and it has radio contact with the culvert. We have better comms up there; we’ll reach out when we have news.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Frankie said. He and Rose grabbed the girls’ packs and got them settled in as quickly as possible with the other children. The goodbyes were brief but sincere –  within ten minutes, the parking lot was empty except for the wreckage of the Martian scout and the remains of his ship.

Christmas Day

Rose gasped as her eyes flew open. For a moment, she forgot where she was, her nightmare still clouding her mind. Hearing Frankie breathing next to her began to ground her, and as she looked around the Djarin cabin, she could feel her heart-rate slow.

“You ok, honey?” Frankie mumbled.

Rose winced – she’d hoped not to disturb him. “Yeah, I’m ok. Just that same nightmare again…”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Frankie said, his voice now more alert as he pulled Rose into him arms. Every night for the last two months since they’d come to the cabin, Rose had dreamed that the Martian soldier was successful and had taken both Lily and Josie away.

“What time is it?” Rose asked, her face half-buried in Frankie’s chest.

Frankie lifted his head, looking at the clock on the wall in the dim morning light. “Hm…about 7:30?”

Rose groaned. “Ugh…can we just not move for a bit?”

Frankie smiled and kissed her hairline. “It’s tempting, but you told me not to let you sleep in this morning. Had to go out hunting, right?”

Rose grumbled, but she let Frankie pull her out of bed so she could get dressed. After a quick breakfast, she got geared up and was out the door.

Frankie made sure Rose was beyond the treeline, and then he went out to the shed to start working. There was a lot to do before she got home.

--

As much as she had grumbled about going out early, Rose felt invigorated as she returned to the cabin around noon. The three pheasants she’d bagged and dressed hung heavy in her satchel, and there was a pleasant ache in her feet from being out and about.  “I’m back!” she called out as she came through the door. “What are the chances of having a hot…shower?”

The scene in front of her made Rose trip over her words. The living room of the cabin had been empty when she left. Now, a seven-foot-high artificial Christmas tree, strung with lights and trimmings, stood in the center, and the fireplace was alight. Wonderful smells were floating from the kitchen. Frankie came downstairs from their bedroom, wearing his cleanest shirt.

“I can absolutely get a shower started,” he told her, helping her out of her gear and taking her satchel from her. “But would you be willing to wait until you look at the tree a little more?” Rose nodded, and Frankie quickly packed the pheasants away. He and Rose washed their hands and returned to the living room. Frankie kissed Rose’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, honey.”

“You know what’s awful?” Rose said. “Until I walked in here and saw the tree – I’d completely forgotten today was Christmas. Where did you even find this stuff?”

“The back of the shed,” he told her. “I saw the boxes about three weeks ago, and I figured Din wouldn’t mind us using his parents’ trimmings.” He’d been smiling, but here his expression turned slightly somber. “Do you like it? I know there aren’t any presents under the tree.”

Rose took Frankie’s hand and kissed the palm, getting the barest taste of soap on her tongue. “Baby, this is the present, I know that.”

Frankie saw a sparkle begin to develop in her eyes, one he hadn’t seen in months. “You know,” he said, “the beef roast is going to take at least another two hours to finish in the oven…” He grabbed the quilt off the back of the couch, laying it out on floor next to the tree and sitting on it. “Care to join me?”

Rose sat down carefully, still feeling the ache of the morning. However, any other delicacy flew out the window as she grabbed Frankie on both sides of his face, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Frankie grunted in slight surprise, but he reciprocated, wrapping one of his hands around the back of Rose’s neck to keep her still. After several seconds, they broke apart, both breathing heavily. Frankie could see the sparkle in Rose’s eyes turning into a lustful flame.  

“Are you going to be ok for this?” he asked. “I know it’s been a while.” This was true – he and Rose had made love the first night they got to the cabin, and another time about two weeks after that. However, winter preparations had been dominating their days lately.

Rose smiled, her heart warmed by his concern. “We had to wait longer than this after Josie was born. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Her voice was now pleading. “Frankie, I need you to touch me.”

“I will,” Frankie said. “Let’s get comfortable, yeah?”

They undressed each other slowly, basking in the warmth of the fire. Rose was the first one fully naked, and Frankie took the chance to properly caress her skin for the first time in weeks, reacquainting himself with her frame.

He started with her shoulders, wincing in sympathy when he felt how tight they were. He’d been on hunting duty last week, and he knew how much work it was to haul the gear and field-clean the catch. He pressed gently with his fingers, and his own shoulders loosened when he heard Rose groan in satisfaction.

Now that he knew she was less stiff, Frankie grabbed a few pillows from the couch and had Rose lie back on one of them, dragging his fingers down her side. She pulled him in for another brief kiss, and she moaned when he began to stroke her leg.

“Firelight looks good on you, honey,” Frankie said. “I don’t know how I never noticed before.”

Rose pushed one of his curls out of his face. “I was thinking the same thing – but we’ve also never made love in front of a lit fireplace.”

“Then we’re just going to have to fix that, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so-OH!” Rose’s little retort died in her throat as Frankie snuck his fingers between her legs. “Oh fuck, baby, that feels really good…”

“I’m glad – God, you’re so wet already.” He leaned down to give her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. His own cock was half-hard, and he was glad to already be down to his boxers. “We need to get you open, mi rosa – want you to bloom for me.”

Rose caught his meaning, and she did her best to slow her breathing. When she could concentrate, she felt herself relax, and Frankie easily slipped two fingers inside of her.

“Atta girl,” Frankie said encouragingly. “Let’s see how this goes…” He worked his fingers carefully but firmly, and he was pleased to see Rose starting to lift her hips on her own to chase after her pleasure. “You’re so good for me, honey – think you can take one more?”

“Uh-huh…” Rose’s affirmation turned into a shriek as Frankie added another finger and began stroking her clit. She could tell she was starting to climb – it had been long enough that she was more responsive than usual.

Frankie could tell the same, and his erection was now full. He used his free hand to get his boxers off, and he asked, “Do you want me to make you come this way first?”

Rose huffed and pulled him to her, digging her fingers into his bare ass. “Francisco Morales, let me spell it out for you – I need you inside me immediately.

“Yes ma’am.” Frankie hitched one of Rose’s legs around his hip, and slowly pushed his cock inside her.

The preparation had proven essential – Frankie could feel how tightly he was being squeezed, and he had to remind Rose a few times to keep breathing evenly. When he was seated all the way, he leaned down to touch their foreheads together. “Still ok?”

“Still ok,” Rose promised. Keeping his face close to hers, Frankie began rolling his hips. The movement was deliberate, not frenzied, and he smiled in satisfaction when he found the spot that made her grab at his arms. Rose wasn’t usually one to be extra loud in bed, but with how keyed up she was, every other noise out of her mouth seemed to be an obscene moan. The noises became even more pronounced when Frankie put the heel of his hand against her clit for her to rub against.

They continued in that way for several minutes, and it was Frankie who noticed the shift in Rose’s hips. “Honey, are you already close?” he asked in surprise.

“Uh-huh,” Rose said in a breathy voice, finally cracking her own smile. “That’s what happens when it’s been several weeks without sex and your husband knows how to take care of you.”

“Then let me actually take care, yeah?” Frankie moved Rose’s leg up onto his shoulder and began to thrust at a more vigorous pace. “My sweet, beautiful, strong wife needs to come hard.”

“Fuck, Frankie, don’t stop! Don’t stop don’t stop don’t – aaaaAAAH!” Rose’s orgasm pulled a scream from her throat, and Frankie took the chance to kiss her again.

He was close himself, and began to pull out, but Rose wrapped her legs around his waist. “Please,” she begged, even as the aftershocks were stealing her breath, “Please, I want you to come inside…” Well, what kind of monster would deny his wife that? Frankie cupped her cheek and finished his last few thrusts, feeling himself empty inside Rose’s pussy.

His arms were starting to shake from holding himself up, and Rose sat up so that she could help steady him. “To repeat what you asked me earlier – are you still ok?”

Frankie nodded. “I am – love you.”

“Love you too.” Rose’s legs were still a bit tender, so she used the couch to pull herself up. “I definitely need that shower I mentioned earlier – will you be joining me?”

--

Frankie had absolutely outdone himself with the Christmas meal. The roast was a perfect temperature, and besides making mashed potatoes and beans, Frankie had made his first Yorkshire puddings using the beef drippings. Rose’s belly and heart were full – which was why she surprised herself when she started crying while putting her plate away.

Frankie looked panicked as he pulled her into his arms. “Rosita, what’s wrong?” He wanted to make a joke about not thinking the puddings were that bad, but he could tell it wasn’t the time.

“I….feel guilty…” Rose admitted. “Here we are, getting to gad about for Christmas like we’re newlyweds – but what about the girls? What if they didn’t get to have any celebrations? What if we haven’t heard from them because…oh fuck…” Her sobs became heavier, and Frankie rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“I worry too,” he admitted. “I worry about all of it – are the girls safe, are they happy, are Maxwell and Alistair ok…it’s on my mind all the time – but so are you.” He tilted Rose’s chin up. “You don’t stop being my wife just because I miss Lily and Josie, and I wanted you to feel special, at least for today. Besides, I get the impression that Din could pull a Christmas party out of a magician’s hat if it would keep the culvert kids happy.”

Rose smiled at that mental image, but Frankie could see her eyes were still watery, so they just stood there in quiet for a few more minutes.

Boxing Day

Crying must have been exactly what Rose needed, because the rest of Christmas evening was calm, and when she woke up the next day, she realized she hadn’t had her nightmare. Frankie’s side of the bed was empty, but still warm, and she heard him moving around downstairs.

Rose took her time getting dressed, and kissed Frankie’s cheek when she came down into the kitchen. “Morning, handsome.”

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Frankie said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Ok if we just stick to leftovers? I think I cooked myself out yesterday.”

Rose laughed, her eye drawn to the pot of coffee brewing on the counter. “Sounds perfect – wait…what is that sound?” A faint crackling noise was coming from the back room.

Frankie’s eyes widened, and he bolted into the back, finding that the radio was active. Rose’s realization was close behind, and she scrambled into the chair next to his so that she could listen in. It took some adjustments, but soon, Din’s voice was coming through loud and clear.

“This is San Juan hailing Creede Lookout, can you hear us?”

Frankie could see the desperation in Rose’s eyes, and he pushed the microphone over to her. She gave him a quick hug and then picked up the line.

“Creede Lookout responding – Din, please, where are the girls?”

“They’re right here,” Din said. Rose heard a slight shuffle – and then Lily’s voice rang out. At that moment, it was the most beautiful sound in Rose’s world.

“Hi mama! We’re all here, me, Josie and Alistair and Uncle Maxwell!”

“I’m so glad, sweetie – you sound much better! Did you all get to have some Christmas?”

The conversation continued that way for a few minutes, and Din politely asked for the mic back, telling the girls they could go play. “I need to tell you the other reason for the call – the war’s over.”

Frankie and Rose stared at each other and at the microphone again, neither of them able to make a sound. There was no way Din had just said that, right?

“Creede Lookout, can you hear me?”

It was Frankie who returned to himself first. “Yeah, San Juan, we’re here – what do you mean, over?”

“I mean that the Martians are on the run,” Din said. “A microbial infection ravaged their army – the rest are either being picked off by Earthling forces or are escaping off world.”

“Infection?” Rose asked. “What kind?”

“Viral – and the scientists have been able to trace the source. Guys…” Din’s voice sounded like he didn’t believe it himself. “The vector was that scout who attacked us on the day of the rendezvous. I …honestly think that when she fought back against him, Lily won the war for Earth.”

Both Rose and Frankie felt pride, but also uncertainty. “What happens now?” Frankie asked.

“That depends on you two,” Din said. “Do you want to come here, or shall we bring the rest of the family to you?”