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alexandralyman · 3 days

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Frankie Morales x Reader fic

A little "friends with benefits" Frankie fic for my partner in crime @meanderingcaptainswanmusings - who loves Frankie Morales like I love Dave York!

Summary: You and Frankie are friends. Just friends and nothing more. But after a bad breakup with your dickhead ex and a failed attempt at a Tinder hookup, you find yourself on Frankie's doorstep one Saturday night in a bodycon dress and fuck-me heels. Turns out, Frankie is more than willing to oblige. After all, what are friends for?

8,221 words, rated E for general sexytimes and Frankie's skill with his mouth. AO3 link here

Hope you Frankie fans enjoy!

Frankie With Benefits

You step out of the Uber, muttering your thanks to the driver while closing the door with your phone already in hand to give him five stars and a good tip despite your foul mood. It wasn’t his fault that your date was such a disaster after all, plus he didn’t try to make small talk and played good music instead of some douchey podcast. You can still hear the faint Cuban rhythms as he drives off into the sultry Florida night, it’s both hot and humid as per usual and the contrast between the ice-cold AC in the car to the nearly triple-digit temps outside is a shock to your system that distracts you from noticing something is off until it’s too late.

”Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

While the building in front of you is very familiar, it’s decidedly not your apartment complex. Your plans of changing out of your tight dress and fuck-me heels into some ratty old pjs and killing the bottle of wine chilling away in your fridge while you delete Tinder for good because men fucking suck has just been thrown a major curveball. You open Uber back up to check your ride history and squint at the screen through the false eyelashes that took forever to put on, realizing with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that you must have tapped on the wrong destination when you left the bar in such a rush while telling your date where to shove it. That’s the only explanation as to why you’re not currently looking at your front entrance.

You’re looking directly at Frankie’s house instead.

Fuck.

Standing at the end of his driveway feeling very self-conscious in your bodycon dress with your driver already long gone, you go to book a new ride so you can slip away before any of Frankie’s nosy neighbors start to wonder about the woman loitering on their quiet little street in an outfit that’s decidedly not “family friendly.” Or worse, before Frankie sees you. A minute ticks by, then two, and no drivers pop up, not even with ridiculous surge pricing that you’ll gladly pay just to get home.

“C’mon, c’mon. Ugh!”

You finally give up as the streets nearby stay frustratingly empty on the little map, stuffing your phone into your purse with a sigh and turning to face Frankie’s house. His living room light is on so he’s obviously home and not out with the guys tonight, you can see the soft yellow glow through the curtains like a beacon offering safe harbor after a shitty evening.

It’s Frankie. If you can’t be alone in your apartment drowning your sorrows in grocery store wine, there’s really nowhere else you’d rather be.

“He needs to resurface his driveway,” you mutter under your breath as you carefully pick your way up the asphalt towards his front door. You’re certainly not wobbling with every step because you wore stilettos that make your butt look great but you can’t actually walk properly in. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it. You manage to make it all the way without breaking an ankle, knocking and wondering if it would be less embarrassing to head barefoot to the bus stop at the corner instead of admitting why you’re here. But before you can kick them off and make a break for it Frankie answers, blinking in confusion when he sees you standing on his doorstep in a dress with a neckline that plunges more than an Olympic diver and shoes that cost half a month’s rent, feeling like a complete idiot.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up to scratch behind his neck as he takes you in with those dark, expressive eyes of his. “Um…did we have plans tonight, or something?

He stares openly at your cleavage for a moment before his gaze snaps back up to your face with a sheepish look. If it was any other man you’d be annoyed, but Frankie has never ogled or leered at you in all the time you’ve been friends, and you did just show up unannounced at his door with your tits on full display, after all. You don’t mind if he takes a peek, someone might as well get to appreciate them tonight.

“No,” you reassure him. “Can I come in? I just bailed on a shitty date and must have accidentally picked your address when I ordered an Uber instead of mine. I tried to book another one to take me home but there’s no drivers around right now.”

Frankie nods. “Sure, sure, of course,” he says, shuffling aside to let you in and closing the door behind you with a soft click. You kick off your heels with a sigh because it would be rude to wear them in his house and not because they’re absolutely killing your feet, letting them tangle with his sneakers and already feeling a little better.

“Mi casa et su casa,” he adds with a gallant sweep of his arm once you’re safely inside.

You’ve spent a decent amount of time at Casa Morales since you first met Frankie a few years ago and quickly became friends with him, coming over for everything from backyard BBQs with his Delta Force buddies and their families, to movie nights on his couch just the two of you, to hauling your laundry over in his truck when the machines in your building went out of order again and he insisted that you use his instead of spending money at a laundromat. You know your way around his place. His house is small, but it’s bright and airy just like the ones you sigh over while browsing Zillow in your apartment, and while Frankie’s life can be messy at times (mainly thanks to said Delta Force buddies, Santiago Garcia in particular) he keeps his home neat and tidy and welcoming. When you go into the living room there’s nothing out of place, just a half-eaten bowl of chips and a bottle of beer on the coffee table. On a coaster, no less. The TV is still on, he was obviously enjoying a quiet night in for one when you crashed his evening in a dress that revealed more than it covered and shoes your credit card and arches were both still recovering from.

He follows you in, his presence at your back familiar and comforting despite your current “men fucking suck” state of mind. Frankie’s the lone exception at the moment.

“I’d drive you home but I’ve already had a few beers tonight. Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

You wave off the apology in his voice. “It’s fine, I’ll just give it a few minutes and book another ride.”

“Uh, about that….”

You turn and look at him, confused. He gives you a “don’t shoot the messenger” look with both hands raised and nods towards the TV.

“The game just finished. All the Uber drivers are going to be down at the stadium by now.”

“Son of a bitch,” you swear, closing your eyes in frustration. You couldn’t have picked a worse night to get stranded without a ride, everyone within a twenty mile radius of the stadium knows it’s impossible to get an Uber after any big event. Frankie knows it, you know it, you just didn’t plan on your date being a lying asshole and having to compete with twenty thousand sportsball fans for a lift home. That’s it, you were done with dating apps for good, if you hadn’t downloaded Tinder again you could be at home in bed right now having a threesome with your wine and your vibrator and as a bonus your feet wouldn’t hurt.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you have a few blisters. The damn shoes were just like men, looked so great at first and then rubbed you in all the wrong places.

“Sooooo,” Frankie drawls when you flop down ungracefully on his couch, eyeing you carefully from his tactical position behind the coffee table. “You were on a date tonight? I thought you said you’d given up on dating after Dickface McDickhead….oh fuck, please tell me you’re not back together with that asshole again?”

His nickname for your ex always makes you snort. Frankie was never his biggest fan. He wasn’t Frankie’s either, hating the fact that you two were such good friends. When you finally broke up with him for good, Frankie threw a BBQ the following weekend and grilled you the best steak you’d ever eaten with a huge smile on his face.

”What are we celebrating?” Santi asked when he arrived, putting down the beer he’d brought and eyeing the streamers and balloons decorating Frankie’s backyard in confusion.

“The fact that I won’t go to jail for throwing trash out of my helicopter,” Frankie said.

Santi stared blankly at him. “The fuck are you on about, Fish?”

Frankie just grinned at you over Santi’s shoulder while you rolled your eyes and grabbed one of the drinks. He even had a party hat perched jauntily on top of his ballcap, and a piñata hanging up in the yard, “for the kids”.

You took a few good swings at it with the bat he handed you while picturing your ex’s face on the paper-mache.

The mere thought of getting back with Drew, aka Dickface, makes you shudder. “No, I’m not back with him, and I’m still done with dating.”

You swipe some chips out of the bowl and tuck your legs under you, ignoring how high it makes your dress ride up your thighs with only a token effort to tug it back down.

“You’re done with dating, but you were out on a date? Little confused here.”

Frankie sits down on the other end of the couch, muting the post-game recap on the TV and turning so that he’s facing you. He’s all casual in jeans and a faded T-shirt that stretches over his broad shoulders when he twists, hair falling on his forehead in a mop of messy curls without his usual hat to cover them. You should feel out of place in your sexy little dress, full-glam makeup and the “effortless beachy waves” that took you an hour, three different tutorials and a whole fucking lot of effort to achieve, but you’re far more comfortable here with him than you were with the man you ditched back at the trendy bar full of wannabe influencers with insanely overpriced cocktails. Comfortable enough to tell him the truth, with a little help from the tequila in the deconstructed margaritas that you drank.

“It was supposed to be a hookup,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks go warm in a combination of embarrassment and alcohol.

His eyes go wide at that and he lets out a little cough of surprise. “That explains the dress,” he says, glancing down at it again before quickly looking back up at your face.

You wave a hand up and down yourself. “Dress, shoes, lip gloss,” you list off, not mentioning the rather skimpy new underwear that you’re one wrong move away from flashing him with. “I was tired of sitting home alone on Saturday nights, you know?”

”Hey!” he protests, and you duck your head with a wince. It’s Saturday night and he was sitting home alone until you showed up.

“Sorry. No offense, Frankie.”

“None taken, cariño. But only because it’s you.”

The casual endearment makes you feel even warmer, or maybe it’s just the Patrón you downed before leaving Mr. Talk, Dark, and Liar Liar Pants on Fire back at the bar hitting your system.

“Deconstructed margarita” your ass, it was a shot of triple sec and a shot of tequila with a hideous up charge, and they didn’t even include the lime.

You could leave it at that, suggest watching a shitty Netflix movie to pass the time until you can finally book an Uber and go home to change into something that isn’t squeezing your ribs into new and interesting positions and drink the finest chardonnay Publix had for under ten dollars. Frankie won’t push, won’t judge, you’ve been friends long enough to know that. You’ve seen each other through various highs and lows over the years, he was the first person you called when you got a promotion that you’d worked your ass off for, and when he found out his ex-fiancée was getting married you were the one who picked him up at the bar where he was drowning his sorrows and brought him home to drunkenly cry on your shoulder until he passed out.

If there’s anyone in the world who you can trust with this, it’s him.

“Those last few months with You Know Who,” you start, meaning your ex and not Voldemort despite their many similarities, “we were fighting like all the time. I knew deep down our relationship had become this flaming dumpster fire, but for some stupid reason I kept splashing water on it trying to put it out instead of walking away. And then we had the worst fight ever, and he said…he said-”

You could really do with another shot of tequila for some liquid courage right now. You settle for drinking the last of Frankie’s beer instead while he watches you carefully, tipping the bottle back to get every drop and then setting it down on the coaster with an audible thump.

“-he said I was a frigid bitch in bed and he would have better sex fucking a blow up doll instead of me. That’s what finally did it, I told him we were over. He tried to apologize and begged for another chance, but I just kept hearing it over and over again in my head and I was done. Finally done.”

A muscle ticks in Frankie’s jaw like the countdown clock on a bomb, you can see it even through the scruff of his patchy beard. He glances away for a second and you see his eyes close while he mutters under his breath in Spanish too soft and too fast for you to understand before his gaze snaps back to yours.

“I take it back, he’s not a dickhead,” he says, sounding completely calm. “That’s an insult to actual dickheads. And he’s going to be lucky if he can still run his mouth like that once I’ve knocked out all his teeth.”

Even though he’s ex-military Frankie has never been one for that bullshit macho posturing, which is one of the things you like so much about him. He breaks up bar fights, he doesn’t start them. To see him now, so calm and collected but with such an intense expression and not a hint on his face that he’s kidding or exaggerating, it sends a jolt right through you. His threat to your dickhead of an ex-boyfriend shouldn’t be so sexy, but….

Damn.

You reach out and flick him lightly on the shoulder. “He’s not worth it, and I really don’t want to have to bail your ass out of jail at three in the morning again, Morales.”

“Hey, that was one time!” he protests, adding in a mumble. “And it was Santi’s dumb idea.”

His annoyed pout just makes you laugh, shaking your head at how closely he resembles his namesake when he juts his lower lip out like that. Cutest catfish ever.

“So,” he drawls, after you stop chuckling, “since you didn’t go back to that asshole, thank fuck, then who was the lucky guy tonight? Or unlucky guy, since you ditched him for far better company.”

You shrug, plucking idly at the fabric of your dress. “Just someone I matched with on Tinder. I really wanted to prove Dickface wrong, you know? That I wasn’t uptight and sucked in bed. Swiped right on someone who didn’t have a douchey shirtless mirror selfie in his profile, we met for drinks and everything was going great until a text popped up on his phone while he was showing me a picture of his dog. From his wife.”

Frankie winces. “Seriously?”

The notification lingered on the screen while he frantically tried to swipe it away, not that it would do any good. You were a fast reader, you’d already read the whole thing.

“Yeah. Letting him know there were leftovers waiting for him in the fridge when he got home from work, with a bunch of kiss emojis and a ‘love you babe’. He tried to do the whole, ‘it’s not what you think, we have an open marriage’ bullshit, which sure, I bet he does, so I told him to call his wife and put her on speaker so we could clear that right up.”

“That’s my girl,” Frankie grins.

The praise flows through you like the tequila, remembering how your date went pale as a ghost while you stared him down and his immediate attempts to backpedal.

“Obviously he suddenly had a million reasons why he couldn’t, so I stuck him with the bill and left. Hope he had the decency to tip, at least.”

You let your head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. The adrenaline rush you’ve been riding since you told off Dickhead McDickface the Second and stormed out of the bar on your fuck-me heels is wearing off. You got fucked all right, fucked over.

“I really can pick em, can’t I?” you ask, a rhetorical question if ever there was one. “Went from one asshole to another. A married asshole, no less.”

There’s a rustle of movement to your left and a touch to your shoulder that makes you turn your head to see Frankie has shifted closer to you on the couch and tilted his head to match the angle of yours while he brushes his knuckles lightly down your arm.

“Hey, do you remember that woman I went on a first date with last year who brought her fifteen year old brother along? And we were supposed to see Poor Things? Who brings their brother on a date, let alone to a movie with that many sex scenes? Really, really, explicit sex scenes?”

You do remember, thanks to the texts he sent you with increasing speed until he was blowing up your phone and you’d barely finished one before the next popped up.

She brought her kid with her?

Wait, not her kid, it’s her brother.

Dude’s like 13, what the hell?????

Okay, apparently he’s 15 he’s just “short”. THAT’S NOT THE POINT!!!!!!!

WE’RE SEEING POOR THINGS??!!!!!

WHAT?

WTF?????????

PLEASE TELL ME THERE’S ANOTHER MOVIE WITH THE SAME TITLE THAT DOESN’T HAVE NAKED EMMA STONE IN IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fuck, what do I do?

This is so fucking weird!!!!!!!! SHE BROUGHT HER BROTHER TO THE WEIRD NAKED EMMA STONE SEX MOVIE!!!!!!!!! HELP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

His bewilderment came right through the screen with the increasing number of exclamation points and the memory makes you giggle. You still can’t think of Poor Things as anything except The Weird Naked Emma Stone Sex Movie thanks to Frankie.

“See?” he says with a smile, “I can’t pick ‘em either. First date was over before the movie even started and I’d already spent like fifty bucks on popcorn and drinks. Still follow her brother on Instagram though, he’s cool.”

You laugh even harder at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Dating suuuucks,” you whine in your best angsty teenager impression.

“It sucks so much,” Frankie agrees. “Fuck that married guy. Wait, no, don’t fuck that married guy.”

Now you’re both laughing, so close to each other on the couch that you’re practically touching at the knees. You think to yourself that Frankie has such a nice smile, none of that closed-mouth, thin-lipped thing some guys do as if smiling is an affront to their manhood. Frankie’s smile takes over his whole face, his eyes going squinty and crinkling adorably at the corners.

“I promise I won’t fuck that married guy,” you swear with mock solemnity, crossing your fingers over your heart like a Boy Scout when you finally stop laughing. You let your hand drop to the cushion in between the two of you and close your eyes with a sigh. “Even though I really, really, really need to get laid.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth you freeze, scarcely daring to breathe even as you’re sure you hear a sharp inhale from Frankie at the unguarded confession. He’s so close to you on the couch. So close.

When you gather the courage to open your eyes and meet his dark gaze the air around you has changed, heavy with the weight of what you just said. Neither one of you moves to put a platonic distance back between you like so many other evenings on this couch when you get too close, sharing pizza and drinks and conversation for hours.

Maybe it wasn’t such an accident that you ended up here, with him, tonight.

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asks in a voice so low and thick with promise that it makes your stomach flip and a sharp throb hits you even lower down.

“Anything?” you repeat, your own voice higher than normal. Is he really offering that?

Frankie picks up your hand from where it lays on the couch, lifting it and keeping your eyes locked while he raises it to his mouth and brushes a slow, deliberate kiss along the back that makes you shiver as every last nerve ending rises to attention and begs for more.

“Anything,” he murmurs against your skin. “Say the word.”

His large thumb strokes over the fluttering pulse in your wrist, back and forth, back and forth, while his heavy-lidded eyes stare into yours.

You can’t say you’ve never thought about it, because you definitely have. Frankie’s stupidly attractive, with those thick curls that always escape out from under his baseball caps and his Roman coin profile. But when you first met he was still with his ex, and then he was single but you weren’t, the timing never quite working out for anything between you except friendship and nothing else. Hell, by now he’s pretty much your best friend, the one you would call if you needed to bury a body knowing he’d bring the shovel. There’s no one else you trust as much as Frankie Morales, and there’s no one else you want as much as you want him, right here, right now.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, saying the words you always wanted to say to him.

He shuffles closer, his other hand sliding behind your neck as he brings your lips together. It’s a little clumsy at first, your nose bumping his before he fits his mouth to yours. You feel his fingers press to the nape of your neck and the brush of his knee against your while he kisses you carefully, so soft and sweet and gentle.

At first.

Heat washes over you and it’s all because of Frankie, his kiss turning hot and hungry and demanding. You gasp into his mouth and kiss him back just as eagerly, hands fisting in his T-shirt to pull him closer. He makes a low noise in the back of his throat that you can practically feel, a sexy cross between a groan and a grunt, and pulls away from your mouth far too soon. But before you can protest the loss with more than a pout and pull him back, he’s dusting more kisses under the hinge of your jaw and along your neck, mapping a hot trail down the wide swath of bare skin your dress reveals between your breasts and nuzzling his face right into your cleavage. His hands go to your hips, bunching the fabric and pulling it up impatiently to your waist as he moves even lower. Everything happens so fast that it makes your head spin far more than the tequila and you lean back on the couch for support with your chest heaving and groping for any part of him you can reach. Frankie kneels on the floor, pulling your new underwear off as he goes and you lift your hips to help with anticipation pooling low in your stomach at the realization of what he’s planning to do.

He spreads your thighs apart and looks down between them at where you’re now completely bare and practically dripping with a rush of arousal. His gaze is dark, hungry, a look like nothing you’ve ever seen before on his face replacing his usual easygoing expression.

“She’s fucking gorgeous,” he says in that low voice, staring straight at your pussy. “All pink and perfect and needy for some attention, isn’t she? Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take very good care of her.”

The breath catches in your throat at that, more than a little shocked by the filthy promise in his words. No man you’ve ever been with has ever said anything remotely like that. Your nipples are firm points against your dress and you must be glistening with how wet you already are. Frankie kisses your inner thigh and mumbles, “lie back a little more for me,” while pulling gently on your hips to position you the way he wants. You’re not about to refuse him anything at this point and you slide lower, feeling your dress ride up even more as you do. While you’re not fully naked yet you feel so exposed, lying with your legs wide open on the same couch where you’ve watched so many bad movies and argued over words while playing Scrabble, because military acronyms don’t fucking count, Catfish! Now he’s nestled between your bare thighs with his wide shoulders wedging them apart and you wonder dimly why you spent all that time not doing this, his insanely kissable mouth so close to your pussy that you can feel his warm breath when he exhales. It makes you tremble with anticipation and Frankie looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an unspoken question behind them. You nod, answering without words. You want this.

He licks you, a slow, broad swipe with the flat of his tongue that has your head falling back and your legs spreading shamelessly wider. Then he does it again, and again, and again, burying his face so deep that you wonder vaguely how he’s even managing to breathe. He doesn’t come up for air anytime soon, holding you firm against his mouth with his hands wrapped around your thighs and seeking out every last spot that makes you writhe and grind against him with moans and cries that you can’t hold back spilling from your lips. It’s loud, both the noises you make and the wet sound of him eating you out like you’re a feast and he’s been starved for days. Frankie makes his tongue a firm point and thrusts it inside you while keeping you spread, the feeling so intimate and erotic that your clit throbs and you absently cup a breast to ease the ache in your stiff nipple. He fucks you with his tongue a few times before he gives you another one of those long, slow licks that go the full length from bottom to top and he zeroes in on your needy clit as if he had a map leading him right to it. You feel his lips close around the swollen bud with a hard suck that has you squeezing your breast with one hand and sinking the other into his messy curls.

“Oh fuck,” you manage to gasp, “Frankie, it’s so good. So good.”

He finally pulls back long enough to rasp, “I want you to come all over my face, baby,” before diving back in. You feel the prod of a thick finger against your dripping entrance, slipping in easily and soon it’s moving in tandem with the flick of his tongue over your clit. The dual sensation makes you whimper, tugging on his hair to urge him closer and rocking your hips. Another finger joins the first, stretching you even more and pressing along your velvety inner walls until he suddenly curls them and hits that spot, the one you almost forgot was there. He strokes it and it’s nothing but bone-melting, toe-curling pleasure that builds and builds relentlessly under your skin until there’s nowhere else for it to go.

You cry out, your climax hitting with the force of a tidal wave and crashing over you. Frankie groans, a low rumble coming from his position between your legs as he clearly feels it in the squeeze around his fingers and the rush of more hot arousal that makes you even wetter and slicker. He rubs it all over his face just like he wanted, his fingers pumping in a lazy rhythm in and out of you until it’s finally over and you’re left limp and boneless on his couch with your dress bunched to your waist and one strap hanging off your shoulder. You’re not sure exactly how you ended up like this, from knocking on his door ready to swear off men forever less than an hour ago to half-naked and panting from the best orgasm you’ve had since….ever. When you manage to lift your head from the cushion to look at him his expression is just as dazed as yours must be even as his lips gleam and his cheeks and chin are damp with you.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his chest heaving under his T-shirt like he just ran a marathon. “Fuck, are you okay? Was that okay?”

Even with the AC blasting there’s still not enough air in the room, it takes you a moment to find some so you can answer him. “Yeah….yeah, I’m okay. It’s okay.”

Okay is an understatement, you don’t even smoke and yet you’re ready for a cigarette now. You don’t even make any move to tug your dress down and cover yourself, one leg still loosely propped on Frankie’s shoulder. He rubs a soothing hand on your thigh and carefully dislodges it so he can stand up, revealing the prominent bulge in his jeans that’s now perfectly at your eye level. Your pussy clenches and throbs at the sight, he got that hard just from going down on you? He follows your gaze and smirks a little when he sees where you’re looking, brushing his hand against his fly.

“All for you, baby,” he says, and reaches to pull you to your feet. “Not on the couch though. Bedroom. I want you in my bed.”

Bed, couch, floor, you really don’t care and you’re already fumbling with his belt buckle and tugging his T-shirt out of his jeans. You drag your nails along the sensitive skin of his stomach right above his waistband and relish the way it makes him shudder, the muscles contracting under your touch. When you look up again he immediately swoops down and kisses you, this time with the taste of you still clinging to his lips and your scent all over his face. It’s raw and messy, tongues and teeth and the little sound of triumph you make when you finally get his belt open. You feel him smile against your mouth while he starts to walk backwards and you have to follow him to work on your next goal, getting his T-shirt off. He’s leading you towards his bedroom, and thank God his house is a bungalow so you don’t have to waste time going up stairs. All that’s between the two of you and his bed is a hallway, and it might as well be one of those funhouse corridors at the county fair with the way you’re both bumping against the walls and tripping over your own feet trying to navigate it. Frankie unabashedly gropes your ass with those large hands of his while he kisses you, not paying attention to where he’s going and knocking pictures on the wall askew with his shoulders. You keep tugging and pulling at his T-shirt, trying to get it off and thwarted by the fact that he won’t let go of your butt long enough to lift his arms.

“Frankie,” you whine against his mouth, shoving fistfuls of cotton up his back, “off!”

He finally pulls back and yanks the shirt over his head with enough force that you’re sure he just completely stretched out the neck, tossing it aside without bothering to see where it lands. The warm expanse of his broad chest presses against you almost immediately, with what feels like miles and miles of bare skin under your exploring hands. His lips fasten to your neck and you tilt your head back, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. You’ll have to cover it before work on Monday, but, fuck it. That’s what concealer is for. If he wants to cover you in hickies like you’re teenagers having their first makeout session, you’ll let him. You’ll let him do whatever he wants at this point.

“Hang on.”

“It’s the only warning you get before he hauls you up with his hands under your thighs, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He carries you the last few steps into the bedroom and closes the door with a kick of his foot that makes it slam shut. The sound makes you start before you grin down at him.

“Impatient, much?”

“To have you in my bed at last?” he says, matching your grin with his own goofy smile. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

You can take the man out of the military but you can’t take the military out of the man, Frankie’s bed is made with such sharp precision that it seems a shame to mess it up.

Almost.

The mattress dips when he sets you down, knocking a pillow aside and the duvet no longer perfectly crisp at the edges. You go up on your knees while he stands next to the bed, reaching for where his belt hangs open and using it to tug him closer. It doesn’t take much work to pop open the button on his jeans and pull the zipper down, the sound of the metal teeth parting shockingly loud against the quiet of the room. You reach a hand in and feel the heat of his skin even through the soft material of his underwear, while he stands as still as a statue except for the rise and fall of his chest. He lets you touch and explore and you trace the very long and thick outline of his erection as it twitches and presses eagerly against your hand. Fuck, Frankie is big. The kind of big that’s going to stretch you so deliciously. The kind of big that you’re going to feel the day after. Maybe even longer.

And it’s all yours tonight.

His jeans are quickly joined on the floor by your dress, as you go from bodycon to full frontal. You might have been nervous about finally getting completely naked, if it wasn’t for the unexpected sight of the pattern on his boxer-briefs.

“Frankie,” you laugh, “you actually have fish themed underwear?”

Sure enough, there’s several different types of fish swimming around on the fabric, including his whiskered namesake. When you look back up from the cartoon catfish smiling jauntily across his groin you can see that his ears have gone bright red in embarrassment.

“It was a gag gift from the guys,” he mumbles, not meeting your eyes, “they’re really comfortable, and well, I wasn’t exactly expecting to take my pants off in front of anyone tonight, you know.”

You rest your hands on the waistband and trace a nail along the bare skin just above, trying and failing to stifle the urge to giggle.

“Wanna put your pants back on then?” you ask, teasing the sensitive spot below his navel.

“Fuck no.”

His lips crash back down on yours again, his arms circling your waist. The Finding Nemo joke you were about to make is immediately forgotten as you blindly peel the boxers off, letting the school of fish puddle at his feet and immediately get kicked away. You wrap a hand around his cock, so long and thick that it makes you ache with the thought of having it inside you. God, you need this. You need him.

Frankie lets out a deep groan against your mouth when you start to stroke, dragging your hand up and down the length of him from root to tip and back again. You rub your thumb over the sensitive head and twist your fingers under the crown, teasing out all the sensitive spots and figuring out what he likes. A hard grip, bordering on rough, has his chest heaving and his hips jerking while his cock throbs in your hand.

“Jesus Christ,” he bites out. “Like that, baby, just like that.”

The sheer unguarded pleasure on his face gives you everything you wanted tonight with your dress and the heels and the lacy underwear. You feel sexy. Desired. Powerful. Able to bring a man to his knees with your touch. Literally, Frankie’s legs start to buckle and he has to brace himself against the bed to stay upright. You keep stroking him until he finally pulls your hand away gently and kisses your open palm before joining you on the bed. He practically jumps onto it in his eagerness, making you bounce with the movement.

“Condom?” he asks, twisting towards his nightstand, “I have some-“

“I’m good,” you interrupt. You want to feel him inside you without that barrier. “I’m on the pill.”

His arm drops from where he was reaching for the drawer. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all month.”

You never would have fucked your Tinder date without a condom, but this is Frankie. Your Frankie. You trust him. He rolls on top of you and your trust only grows when he hesitates, looking down into your eyes.

“Are you absolutely sure about this? We can always stop.”

He pushes a lock of hair out of your face with a gentle touch and you know without a doubt that if you wanted to stop he would without complaint even though he hasn’t come yet. You run your hands up his arms and feel the tension in his biceps, the strain of holding himself back. He’s braced above you, his hair a complete mess, gorgeously naked and hard as a rock, and you are one hundred percent sure about this.

“I don’t wanna stop.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, a perfect fit between your thighs. Frankie angles his hips while he leans down for another kiss and you feel the hot slide of his cock as he finds your entrance with that pilot’s accuracy of his, then the press of the blunt head as he starts to push inside. He moves slowly, carefully, giving you time to adjust to the stretch and burn. And it does burn, in the very best way. It’s been months since you’ve had sex, and far longer since you’ve had good sex, your frustration had built to a fever pitch under your skin and Frankie just lit a match. You both feel it when you open for him fully, that final slide is smooth and easy and he buries himself right to the hilt.

“Fuuuck,” he bites out. “Took me so fucking good, perfect fucking pussy.”

His dick is pretty damn perfect too, in your opinion, filling you up and creating the most delicious friction when he starts to move. You pull his head down for another kiss before he buries his face in your neck and rocks his hips into yours, gradually building the rhythm while you run your hands along his back and feel the muscles ripple and flex with each thrust. It’s everything you needed and more, the thick drag of him inside you has you arching your back and crying out and it only seems to spur him on even more. He plants a knee on the bed and lifts your leg, shifting his hips so that he can go even deeper. You clutch helplessly at his sheets when the tip of his cock finds your sweet spot and make a noise you don’t even recognize, a throaty moan pulls from your throat while your toes curl and your pussy throbs.

“Frankie,” you manage to gasp, clutching both his shoulders and gripping him even tighter from the inside, “oh god, there! Right there!”

“That’s it baby,” he murmurs into your skin. “Come all over my cock.”

He leans over you, thrusting hard and balancing on one hand to reach down with the other so he can work your swollen clit. The first swipe of his fingers on the sensitive bud sends a jolt through your entire body that melts into sheer unadulterated pleasure. With a few more you’re teetering right on the edge, and then Frankie grinds especially deep on his next thrust and presses down hard with his thumb. It grips you and doesn’t let go, your second climax of the night is even stronger than the first and has you squeezing him as if you’re trying to drag him even further inside, contracting along the length of his cock while he grits his teeth and fucks you through it. When the aftershocks finally stop and you relax back into the mattress with a sigh Frankie pulls out, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips and laying down next to you.

It takes you a few moments in your post-orgasmic haze to notice that he’s still hard, his cock is practically flush to his stomach and glistening with your arousal.

“You didn’t?” you ask, confused as you glance down.

He follows your gaze with a strangely bashful look. “Not yet. I want…I want you to ride me.”

That sends another hot rush right between your legs, suddenly wanting it desperately too. You’re not sure if you’re going to be able to walk afterwards, especially not in those stupid heels, but it’s going to be so fucking worth it.

Frankie stretches out fully on the bed, those long legs and broad shoulders taking up so much space on it. Luckily there’s more than enough room for you right there on his lap. You swing a leg over, hands pressing down on his chest for balance while he looks up at you with that crooked grin he always gets when he’s especially pleased about something. A sinful roll of your hips along his thick erection only makes his smile wider when he feels how wet you still are.

“Take me in,” he begs shamelessly, hips moving under you and hands roaming over your skin. “Please, baby.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

It’s another delicious stretch, sliding down his thick erection and feeling him rub you in all sorts of interesting new ways from this angle. Once you’re seated fully you give yourself a moment before you start to move, his heart racing under your palm and his cock held snug and warm deep inside you.

Frankie’s done so much already for you tonight, this is for him. You want to give him just as much pleasure as he gave you, make it just as good for him when you start to roll your hips again to take him in again and again and again. His hands find your thighs and flex against them while he watches with a rapt expression, eyes glued to where you’re joined before looking up to take in the full sight of you riding him just as he wanted.

“Good?” you ask, gasping the word out.

“So fucking good,” he groans. His hips lift under you right as you go down on the next stroke and it’s even better, the way you just fit. You use muscles you didn’t even know you had, increasing your pace and riding him hard. The cords on his neck pop when he throws his head back against the pillow, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring with each exhale of breath. He has to be close, you can sense it in the increasingly desperate noises he makes and the way his fingers dig into your skin as he holds you steady on top of him. Your breasts bounce and your thighs are burning with the effort of maintaining the rhythm but you don’t stop, can’t stop, you need Frankie to fall apart just like he’s done for you twice already. You want to see the look on his face and hear the noises he makes when he comes, adding a circle of your hips that makes his eyes close and his body jerk under you. He feels even harder now, and your legs aren’t the only thing that’s burning. Frankie is hitting every sweet spot inside of you, filling you so deep and full that the familiar prickle and spark is starting again. You weren’t expecting to come for a third time, but then again you weren’t expecting anything else that happened tonight and it’s definitely happening. Frankie thrusts up with a growl, yanking you down on him with the same motion and holding you there while you feel him pulse hot and he lets out a long, loud moan like no other noise he’s made all night. The sound and the sensation make you molten, almost there and even deep in the throes of his own pleasure he reaches for your clit and gives it a pinch that’s all you need to fall over the edge with him. With your hands braced on his chest you throw your head back and let it wash over you while you keep rolling your hips to draw out more and more of those gorgeous sounds out of him until he finally starts to soften. You collapse in a heap on his chest and his arms immediately wrap around you, lips brushing against the top of your head while you bury your face against his sweaty chest and your heartbeats slowly go back to normal.

It’s nice.

It’s more than nice.

You could get used to it.

You can’t. You shouldn’t. You’re just friends.

Friends who just fucked rather spectacularly.

Fuck.

After a few moments you slide off of him to lie on your back, looking up at the ceiling instead of at him. Now things are going to be all weird and awkward and as amazing as the sex was, it wasn’t worth the inevitable end of your friendship. Silence stretches between you and creates more and more space in its wake.

“There’s probably Ubers available now,” you say at last, keeping your gaze away from his face so you don’t see his expression shift from lover to stranger. By the time the driver gets here you’ll have your dress back on and your feet shoved into your shoes and you and Frankie can start pretending this never happened. Maybe that will work.

There’s a snort from next to you. “Yeah. That’s not happening, I’m driving you home tomorrow. After we sleep. And shower. And stop at that diner on 53rd cause I’m gonna need one of those giant lumberjack breakfasts to recover from this.”

You feel yourself flush a bit, as ridiculous as it is considering you’re naked in his bed with “this” still sticky on your inner thighs.

“I’m not going to a diner in that dress,” you say, still looking at the ceiling and adding silently, “or those shoes that could double as torture devices.”

“So you wear one of my T-shirts or something,” Frankie’s voice trails away into a jaw-cracking yawn before he continues, “we’ll figure it out in the morning. Fuck, you really did a number on me.”

Yawning is contagious, you can feel one building and you’re suddenly on the verge of falling asleep thanks to the number he did on you and the incredibly comfortable bed that you never want to leave. Best sex you’ve had in….ever, all thanks to Frankie. But you don’t give in to the urge to just close your eyes and go to sleep, as tempting as it is, turning your head to look at your best friend instead and finding him looking back at you in the dark.

He’s still Frankie. You’re still you.

You’re still friends.

“Frankie? Will we figure…this out in the morning?”

His fingers lace with yours under the blankets and he gives you a soft smile.

“Yeah. We will, baby, I promise.”

When you fall asleep you’re on your side with Frankie plastered to your bare back, his arm firm around your waist like he’s afraid you might try to sneak away in the middle of the night. The thought had occurred to you, to escape all the morning after awkwardness. Frankie isn’t just a hookup or a one-night stand though, he means so much more to you than that. So you lay your hand over his and relax into his embrace with a sigh, wondering as you drift off if he’ll let you borrow his prized vintage AC/DC T-shirt to wear home…..

….and if he’d be up for another round in the shower in the morning.

The answer to both turns out to be a resounding yes.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #my fic

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thedroneranger · 2 years

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Talk You Out of It

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Précis: A last-minute change of plans has you all dressed up with no where to go.

Note: One of two entires for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm love song playlist challenge! This fic is inspired by Florida Georgie Line's Talk You Out Of It. Happy Valentine's Day, ya filthy animals! 🖤

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit.

Word count: 3.0k

A deep sigh left your lips as you sunk into the car seat. The silence was interrupted by a ping. Fumbling around, you pulled out your phone. The screen illuminated with a message from Jake.

I got a bottle at your favorite place, waiting for us in a bucket on ice. Be ready for 7 p.m. Wear something nice.

You grumbled, learning that Jake had planned something that required you to get dressed and go back out. Normally, you loved getting dolled up and going out. Especially with Jake. The two of you made a great-looking pair. It was hard not to notice the double takes and whispers. It reminded you that either of you could have anyone but chose each other.

However, the first week at your new job was a grind. Going home to cuddle on the couch with Jake while you drank wine, ate takeout and watched a rom-com sounded ideal. Since that was not in the plans, you spent the drive hyping yourself to shower and get dressed to be ready when Jake got back so you could make your reservation.

The shower was a welcome reset. Putting on your upbeat shower playlist was energizing. Once you were refreshed, swathed in a towel, you padded to the study to steal a large pour of Jake’s favorite whiskey.

Your back was to most of the room as you found a glass and selected the right bottle. You nearly jumped through the roof when you heard Jake’s voice. Collecting yourself and leveling your breath, you turned to face your husband.

Jake was sitting in his chair, legs splayed with his own glass resting on the chair arm. “What’re you doing, darlin’?” He was a sight for sore eyes. Almost ready for the evening, his shirt had a few buttons undone and his tie was slung around his neck ready for you to fasten—one of your date night rituals.

“I’m torn between a few outfits, so I figured a little liquid courage would help.” You held the glass up. His signature smile appeared, and you could feel the serotonin fire in your brain.

“Take your time, darlin’. I’ll be right here.” He put his glass to his lips and watched as you returned to the bedroom. Before you headed to the closet, you queued a sexier playlist.

Hearing the change in music, Jake smiled and hummed along while he enjoyed his whiskey.

Standing in the mirror, you held dresses in front of you, switching back and forth for an hour. With each garment, you visualized your hair and makeup. Finally, a strappy silk midi with a thigh-high slit spoke to you. “That’s it,” you said aloud, affirming your choice. Once you had the dress, you were ready in no time.

One last look in the full-length mirror, you went back to the study. “Ok.” Your eyes met Jake’s and his mouth was agape. “Is…everything ok?” You stood, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, waiting for him to respond.

He walked toward you, shamelessly looking you up and down. “You look like a grown man’s dream,” he stated. Heat rushed to your cheeks. Jake's compliments always made you blush.

“Thank you.” You reached for his shirt as he approached, fastening the last couple buttons, and then knotting and adjusting his tie. Your palms slid to rest on his chest. His hands floated to your waist and pulled you so your bodies touched.

The low back on your dress allowed his fingers to skim along your bare spine. The sensation gave you goosebumps and had you biting your lower lip.

One of Jake’s eyebrows quirked as he held your gaze. “What if we stay in?” Now your mouth was agape. Was he serious? You didn’t believe what you heard.

Jake broke away from you to head to the bar to pour fresh glasses of whiskey. “It’s chilly out—why leave when we’re so toasty?” He came back and placed a glass on your upturned palm.

You watched as he sauntered back to his oversized leather chair. Your gazes stayed locked as he settled in. “Plus, it’ll probably be loud. I won’t be able to hear you tell me about your first week.” With his free hand, he patted his thigh.

Suddenly, it all clicked. You laughed—a sound Jake loved. “Definitely wouldn’t have heard that.” He smirked and settled more into his chair, splaying his legs wider, further extending his invitation.

The look in your eyes told Jake his plea was successful. That smile you fell in love with graced his face as you slid onto his lap.

One hand around his shoulders, his arm around your hips, you both sipped your drinks. After a few minutes, you looked at each other as you reached across him to set your drink on the table. Then you draped your other arm around his neck, nails skimming the buzzed hairs on the back of it. He practically purred.

“Tell me about your week,” he requested as he pressed kisses to the exposed parts of your chest. Your answer came in the form of shallow breaths and soft moans.

Jake’s fingers skimmed your thin dress straps off your shoulders. You pulled your arms through, letting them drop to your sides. Following the swells of your breasts, his fingers slid the fabric down, leaving just your nipples covered.

He kept eye contact with you as his broad tongue trailed up the valley between your breasts. In turn, your hand anchored itself in his locks and pulled him up until his lips were teasing your neck. “It’s amazing how few words it’s taking you to talk me out of this dress,” you said between sharp breaths.

“You shouldn’t have picked it if you wanted to go out,” he retorted as you separated to shift positions. Hitching up your dress, you tucked your knees on either side of Jake’s hips while you unfastened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Maybe I didn’t want to go out…” you trailed off. Jake’s eyebrows rose in surprise as you continued to undress him. You shrugged. “Looks a little different than I envisioned, but it’s going to end with us cuddling, so it’s a win in my book.” It was Jake’s turn to laugh—a sound you loved.

Jake was patient. He watched as you undid each button on his shirt and pulled the tails from his waistband. You even popped off his cufflinks and unbuttoned his sleeves. He leaned forward, allowing you to push the shirt off his shoulders. You guided the fabric as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves.

Once the shirt lay neatly over the chair arm, he grabbed the bunches of dress fabric around your thighs and flipped it over your head. He soaked you in. “No undergarments?” His grin rivaled the Cheshire cat.

Your shoulders floated toward your ears as you looped your arms around his neck, holding your own wrist. “I didn’t want lines. That fabric shows everything.” His mind flashed back to your nipples barely hidden behind it just moments ago.

His blunt fingertips hungrily dug into the meat of your thighs. His thumbs pressed into the creases where your hips hinged. “What was it you had in mind since we’re staying in?” He looked up at you and he slowly pressed kisses to your arm headed toward your chest.

“Well, this is much different than I had imagined,” you began. He hummed, showing his attentiveness. “I envisioned us snuggled up on the couch, sipping wine and watching a movie…”

Jake’s head jerked up. “Oh, darlin’, we can absolutely watch a movie. Something inspirational…” he trailed off, leaving you to wonder what he had in mind. While he commanded your home assistant, you shimmied into his too-big-for-you shirt, leaving it open.

Unceremoniously, Jake stood, forcing you off his lap. You huffed but lost the attitude as he led you to the couch. He dropped his pants, leaving him in just his black boxer briefs, before settling into the couch. Jake left his legs wide enough for you to sit between, so you obliged him, pressing your back to his chest. He nosed the shell of your ear as he pressed a couple kisses to the top of your jaw.

The screen slid from the ceiling pocket and the projector came to life. You waited as Jake’s camera roll appeared. Your eyes widened as his hidden album popped up and your face appeared in several of the thumbnails.

He tapped one you knew was his favorite. “Let’s watch this. Maybe we can reenact it. Hmmm?” A little gasp escaped your lips as Jake’s hand slid between your legs, his middle and ring fingers curling into you. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he added, pumping slowly.

You watched the screen, your brain taking you back to the day the video was recorded. You moved soundlessly across the screen. Jake loved giving voice over and didn’t want to miss a single sound in real-time.

On screen, Jake’s thumb was pulling on the straps of your thong, letting them snap against you. Then he was palming your ass, swatting it once in a while. The entire time your head bobbed in and out of frame. Occasionally stopping to look at Jake through the camera lens.

“This one I like to watch when I’m on the carrier. In bed, imagining your lips wrapped around my cock instead of my hand.”

Your lip rolled between your teeth as you pressed harder against Jake. His thumb drew figure eights and frenzied circles on your swollen clit. The calloused pads of his fingers kept hitting that spongy spot, making your breath hitch each time.

“Do you enjoy watching yourself?” Jake asked as he kissed your shoulder. Afraid to verbally answer because it might push you over the edge, you nodded slowly. “Use your words, darlin’.”

“Yes.” Your answer was breathy. A tell-tale sign you were close.

“How about a little audio to add to the experience.” Jake bumped up the volume to a soft decibel.

The recorded version of you throating Jake made you feel warm all over. You rolled your hips into Jake’s hand at a similar cadence to the sounds on screen. All while Jake sang praises into your ear.

Thanks to Jake’s coaxing, you reached climax at the same time as Video Jake. “Fuck, yes,” Jake hissed, still stimulating your G spot as you contracted around his fingers. You grabbed his wrist to push him away because the sensation had you seeing stars, but he refused to pull back. “Color?” His voice was gruff.

“Green,” you whined. He kissed your shoulder again and kept his fingers deep inside you as you began to wind down. As Jake removed his fingers from you, you caught his palm and guided the digits to your lips.

First, you kissed them and then pressed your tongue against the palm side, licking from the base to tips. You pushed his slickened fingers past your lips, swirling your tongue around them as they entered your mouth.

Jake watched you, his pupils nearly eclipsing his irises. His cock twitched against your back, which had you pressing further into him. He groaned and pushed toward you. His free hand came up to cup your neck just under your jaw.

You hummed as he applied light pressure to the sides. Your body rocked to the same rhythm as his fingers going in and out of your mouth. Eventually, you released them with a popping sound.

Softly, you removed Jake’s hand from your neck and slipped off the couch, twisting so you were facing him on your knees between his. Looking up at him through your lashes, you hooked your fingers behind his knees to bring him closer to the edge of the sofa.

Standing to your fullest height on your knees, you palmed Jake through his underwear. He was hard as a rock. At the same time, you pushed your lips to his. He kept you close with a hand at the base of your skull. Hungrily, his tongue played with yours.

While he dominated your kiss, your hand dipped past his waistband. Your thumb swiped the precum from his angry tip and rubbed it along his length. He growled into your kiss, enjoying the sensation. Involuntarily, he kept shifting his body toward you for more contact.

Finally, you broke the kiss to focus on his throbbing cock. “I think we should make a sequel.” He twitched in your hand, which made you smile. “You could use some new content.” You winked as you settled lower to the floor and pulled his underwear off as he lifted his hips.

Thankfully, Jake’s phone was just a couch cushion away. He snagged it, opening the camera and framing you how he wanted. He gave a slight nod as he hit record.

Jake held his breath, anticipating the first touch of your lips. Instead, your tongue poked out and swiped his head. He nearly jumped off the couch—it was such a subtle start. You smiled at the lens, twisting your hand along his shaft.

Resting your thumb on his frenulum, you took the tip in your mouth. Then your hand slid further down, allowing more of him into your mouth. Soon, he was hitting the back of your throat. You could feel tears forming in your waterlines and spit gathering at the corners of your mouth.

Popping Jake out of your mouth, you took a deep breath, continuing to glide your hand along his length, using your thumb for extra pressure on the underside. You moved him so you had better access to his balls, pressing a kiss to each before taking one in your mouth. You felt Jake’s breath stutter as you whirled your tongue around it, before trading it for the other. You repeated the action a few times until you felt him contract.

Not ready for him to finish, you sat back up and returned to bobbing up and down on his shaft. Each time your nose touched his pelvis, you let your tongue lay flat against his ballsack.

Pulling Jake out and running his tip along the outline of your lips, you looked at him through the camera lens. “Are you cumming on my face?” You punctuated your question with a kiss to his tip. You gently squeezed his head with your teeth when he was slow to answer.

“G’yes,” he hissed, struggling to keep it together.

Expertly, you eased him back into your mouth, taking him all the way to hilt. Then, you slowly pulled him back out, hollowing your cheeks and zigzagging your tongue along his underside. Jake’s low, guttural “fuck” was music to your ears as you felt him begin to convulse.

Keeping pressure on his underside, you massaged him and closed your eyes, waiting. Finally, warm streams patterned your face. You feel them on your brow, eyelids, cheeks and nose. As you felt cum drip into the crease of your lips, you parted them so it seeped between. You swiped your tongue along the inside edge, catching the salty nectar.

“Not so fast, darlin’.” Jake’s drawl was more prominent than usual. His fingertips gingerly pressed into your jaw. He tilted your head and ran his tongue along the viscous ropes marking your face. Gently, he licked your eyelids, allowing you to open your eyes. You were met with his brooding eyes and glossy lips. There was the smallest drop of cum at the corner of his mouth.

Your knees still butterflied on the floor, Jake loomed over you, perched on the couch edge. You opened your mouth, sticking out your tongue, as Jake softly guided your head back. Together, you watched as he let his mixed fluids drip into your mouth. They pooled on the flat of your broad tongue before rolling down your throat.

Jake’s hand slid from your jaw to the front of your throat as his mouth closed over yours, enjoying the taste of your mixed saliva and his cum. He moaned into your mouth, and pushed you over until he was straddling you on the floor.

Arms thrown over your head, hair strewn everywhere, puffy lips and his shirt haphazardly covering parts of you, you were the hottest thing Jake had ever seen. Quickly, he jumped up to grab his phone. “Smile for me, darlin’.”

A genuine smile washed over your features as you tried to roll over and cover yourself. “Don’t get shy on me now!” Jake dropped back to his knees, again straddling you as you laid on your back underneath him.

He watched you through the phone screen until you stilled and looked at him with the sweetest smile. He ditched his phone and settled so his body covered yours, a knee between your legs, as he held himself up on his forearms, hovering so you were face to face. “Glad we stayed in?” you asked, looking between and trailing your finger along his diastasis.

“Very glad,” he responded. You glanced back up to find him staring at you. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he added, giving you a peck on the lips before he pushed himself to his feet. On the way up, he snagged your hand to pull you up. While you stood in front of him, he pulled his shirt closed around your body and then pulled you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head as his hands wrapped around you and came to rest on your backside.

You popped your head up to look at him. He looked down at you, waiting. “After we shower, let’s lay in bed and watch our sequel.” His signature grin appeared, waiting for you to continue. “We might have to do reshoots.”

“Fuck, I love you,” he laughed, engulfing you in a tight hug. You looped your arms around his neck and hopped so he could catch your legs as they locked around his waist. You gave him another searing kiss as he carried you to your ensuite bathroom.

“Maybe we should film while we’re in the shower?” he suggested.

“The talent needs some rest between feature length films,” you replied.

“I’ll show you feature length.” He buried his face in your neck, and you squealed as he kicked the bedroom door shut.

Thanks for reading! Wanna read more? Visit my masterlist! | Sign up for my taglist!

The Baddie™ Bunch (my taglist): @roosterforme, @cherrycola27, @notroosterbradshaw, @taytaylala12, @malindacath, @violyn20, @awildewit

#love is in the air tgm #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut #jake seresin smut #hangman smut #hangman #top gun smut #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #jake seresin fanfic #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #spotify #roosterforme #for the seresin girlies

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baradragon · 20 days

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one thing i miss about not going back to florida for grad school is this bar downtown that served a whole fried chicken with fries and mac n cheese with a whole bottle of wine for $30 it was the best deal ever

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year

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This 1976 home in Manalapan, Florida is called Mid-Century Regency, and was renovated and redecorated by a "well-know TV designer" that they won't name. It has 4bds, 4.5ba - $7.195M.

Love the pink birdcage in the foyer.

This is what you see as you enter the front hallway. (I'm thinking my favorite designer David Bromstad did this, b/c he loves color and lives in Florida.) The urns are wicker- perfect for the tropical climate of Florida.

Off the center hall is this amazing dining room.

Also off the center hall is a casual living room that features a retro TV. Look at the tropical palm tree ceiling.

There's a little bar area with a wine fridge next to this room.

Check out the formal living room, also off the central hall. The fireplace is massive and look at the gold palms on the dark wall.

From there, 3 open doorways go into this lovely sunroom.

And, a corridor leads to a counter with stools outside the kitchen.

The amazing kitchen has pink cabinetry and a gold fireplace.

The primary bedroom is huge, has doors to the patio and great views.

The en-suite bath consists of 3 rooms. Like that black tub.

Cute pink children's room.

I thought that this attractive bathroom was also a laundry room, but that's the vanity.

What a lovely room- that mural is beautiful.

The colors of this bath actually look mid-century modern.

The house is right on the marina.

There's a patio, a pool and some nice landscaping.

Property measures .67 acre.

#mid century modern reno #waterfront homes #houses #house tours #home tour #colorful homes #designer home

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lovewithoutresin · 4 months

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TTPD and Substance Use/Abuse References

"I was a functioning alcoholic 'till nobody noticed my new aesthetic" - Fortnight (feat. Post Malone)

"I took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary" - Fortnight ft. Post Malone

"You smoked then ate seven bars of chocolate" - The Tortured Poets Department

"And my friends all smell like weed or little babies" - Florida!!! (feat. Florence + The Machine)

"Florida is one hell of a drug" - Florida!!! (feat. Florence + The Machine)

"I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away / Barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine" - Florida!!! (feat. Florence + The Machine)

"I'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?" - Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

"Put narcotics into all of my songs, and that's why you're still singing along" - Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?

"The smoke cloud billows out his mouth like a freight train through a small town" - I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

"The dopamine races through his brain on a six lane Texas highway" - I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

"You tried to buy some pills from a friend of friends of mine" - The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

"In public showed me off, then sank in stoned oblivion" - The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

"These chemicals hit me like white wine" - The Alchemy

"He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an 'E'" - The Alchemy

"And your friends lift you up over their heads, beer sticking to the floor" - The Alchemy

"Breath of fresh air through smoke rings" - Clara Bow

"Half moonshine, a full eclipse" - Clara Bow

"Six weeks of breathing clean air, I still miss the smoke" - The Black Dog

"Standing at the bar like something's funny, bubbly" - imgonnagetyouback

"Cross your thoughtless heart, only liquor anoints you" - The Albatross

"You needed me, but you needed drugs more, and I couldn't watch it happen" - Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

"I'll drink what you think, and I'm high from smoking your jokes all damn night" - So High School

"They have their friends over to drink nice wine" - I Look in People's Windows

#i thought about including every reference to a bar too but i don't thiiink that's necessary. i'll add it if people are interested though #a few of these i'm assuming at least count for a double meaning #ttpd #taylor swift #rambles #if im missing any let me know!

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taylorswiftandx · 7 months

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Taylor Swift and Alcoholic Beverages

‘Taylor Swift’

(no alcoholic beverages)

'Fearless (Taylor’s Version)’

(no alcoholic beverages))

'Speak Now (Taylor’s Version)’

(no alcoholic beverages)

'Red (Taylor’s Version)’

(no alcoholic beverages)

'1989 (Taylor’s Version)’

Clean: You’re still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can’t wear anymore

'reputation’

End Game: It’s like your eyes are liquor, it’s like your body is gold

Delicate: We can’t make any promises, now can we, babe, but you can make me a drink

Gorgeous: Whiskey on ice, Sunset and Vine, you’ve ruined my life by not being mine

Getaway Car: I knew it from the first old fashioned, we were cursed

King Of My Heart: Up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush, drinking beer out of plastic cups

Dress: I’m spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we’re both drunk

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things: Everyone swimming in a champagne sea

'Lover’

Paper Rings: The wine is cold like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cornelia Street: We were in the backseat, drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar

Death By A Thousand Cuts: My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust, trying to find a part of my you didn’t take up

London Boy: And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey

False God: Make confessions and we’re begging for forgiveness, got the wine for you

You Need To Calm Down: You are somebody that I don’t know, but you’re taking shots at me like it’s Patrón

'folklore’

the 1: Rosé flowing with your chosen family

the last great american dynasty: Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names

august: August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'cause you were never mine

this is me trying: Pouring out my heart to a stranger but I didn’t pour the whiskey

'evermore’

willow: Lost in your current like a priceless wine

champagne problems: Left you out there standing crestfallen on the landing, champagne problems

champagne problems: Your heart was glass, I dropped it, champagne problems

champagne problems: Dom Pérignon, you brought it, no crowd of friends applauded

champagne problems: Your hometown skeptics called it, champagne problems

champagne problems: And I couldn’t give a reason, champagne problems

champagne problems: Never leave you standing crestfallen on the landing with champagne problems

champagne problems: You won’t remember all my champagne problems

no body, no crime: We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

no body, no crime: She says, “That ain’t my merlot on his mouth”

ivy: Or dare to sit and watch what we’ll become, and drink my husband’s wine

closure: I’m fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles

'Midnights’

Maroon: You say, “Your roommate’s cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that’s how”

Maroon: The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

Question…?: It was one drink after another

Mastermind: I’m the wind in our free-flowing sails and the liquor in our cocktails

Paris: Stumble down pretend alleyways, cheap wine, make believe it’s champagne

Paris: ‘Cause we were somewhere else, in an alleyway, drinking champagne

Dear Reader: I prefer hiding in plain sight, my fourth drink in my hand

'The Tortured Poets Department’

But Daddy I Love Him: All the wine moms are still holding out, but fuck them, it's over

Florida!!!: Barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine

The Alchemy: These chemicals hit me like white wine

The Alchemy: Beer sticking to the floor, cheers chanted 'cause they said there was no chance trying to be the greatest in the league

imgonnagetyouback: Standing at the bar like something's funny, bubbly

I Look in People's Windows: They have their friends over to drink nice wine

Other Songs written by Taylor

(no alcoholic beverages)

Official Alternate Releases

Maroon (Clean Version): You say, “Your roommate’s cheapest screw-top rosé, that’s how”

But Daddy I Love Him (Clean Version): All the wine moms are still holding out, but it's over

#taylor swift #lyrics #taylorswiftandx #lyric parallels #alcoholic beverages

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toasttt11 · 6 months

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want

April 29, 2022

The whole team was out celebrating the game they just played against the Florida Panthers winning 10-2, Cole getting a hat trick and Brinley getting a hat trick and two assist. It was the last game the Canadians were playing for the season.

Brinley sat next to Nick and his long time girlfriend Caitlin in the booth in the corner of the bar. Most of the team was out dancing out on the dance floor, some scattered around flirting with girls, Brinely saw a four or five of the boys around a table taking shots and she wasn’t surprised to see Cole keep going back to the table to take more shots and then hurrying back to the dance floor.

Cole is usually the one to party the most on the team and many times Brinley has had to bring him home and get him into his bed.

Brinley put down her empty glass that was just a sofa as she likes to be completely when she goes out with her team so she can be a safe driver home for any of them and she isn’t the biggest on alcohol besides some wine here or there.

The team had been out for already a few hours way past midnight already and Brinley knew sooner than later the bar would be closing.

Brinley flinched slightly feeling a body fall on to her, she looked down seeing the remarkable color of Cole’s hair and relaxed slightly but still tense with Cole laying on top of her.

Cole’s face was buried into her stomach and drunkenly mumbling.

“Let’s get you home.” Brinley mumbled softly to a very drunk Cole and started to get up off the bench with Cole.

Nick and Caitlin shared a look both of them very close to Brinley and they could tell she felt more for Cole than she wanted to let on or even admit to herself, everyone already knew of Cole’s feelings for Brinley, even their coach knew how he felt for her.

Everyone assumed because Brinley never made a move or accepted anything from Cole, that she didn’t feel the same and was trying to let him off softly.

But a few knew that Brinley did feel something more for Cole, but knew she was scared of admitting that. Nick knew especially it was because of her captaincy and not wanting to affect Cole or the team.

Nick has seen how hard Brinley tries to keep a distance from Cole and be just platonic towards him but Nick also knew how stubborn Cole is and knew how persistent Cole can be and the second Cole got any hint that Brinley might feel the same for him he won’t give up.

Brinley softly helped Cole stand up and wrapped his arm around her neck helping him stand, she waved at Nick and Caitlin before heading out of the bar and to her car.

Brinley unlocked her car and opened the passenger door helping Cole in, she leaned over him buckling the seatbelt, she looked up seeing Cole watching her a soft look on his face, he reached his hand out towards her slowly.

“My pretty Meels.” Cole whispered softly gingerly stroking his fingers across her cheekbone and tucking her hair behind her ears.

Brinley froze slightly at his touch and words but shook it off and backed up letting his hand fall from her face she closed the door and walked around to the drivers seat.

She started the drive to Cole’s apartment. Brinley tried to ignore how she knew Cole’s eyes were on her the whole time she was driving them.

Brinley pulled into the parking spot shutting the car and hoping out, she opened the passenger door helping Cole out.

Brinley walked them up to his apartment, she put her hand into his pocket and grabbed his keys opening his door, she dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door and led him to his bedroom.

She pulled the coverts back and gently lowered him onto his bed and luckily for her he was wearing clothes he could comfortably sleep in and she didn’t have to worry about changing him. Brinley untied his shoes and slipped them off as well as his socks as she knows Cole hates sleeping with socks on.

Brinley walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen grabbing medicine and a glass of water and a bucket just in case.

Brinley headed back to his bedroom setting the bucket on the floor next to his bed and the medicine and water on his bedside table.

She walked around the bed shutting the curtains all the way so he didn’t wake up because of the light and she walked back grabbing his phone from his pocket and plugged it in and set it on his nightstand.

She gave him one more look seeing Cole started to fall asleep, she turned around before feeling his hand gently grab onto her wrist and she turned back around seeing him sleepy stare up at her.

“Stay please.” Cole whispered half asleep and very drunk looking up at her with glossy puppy eyes.

“You’re drunk.” Brinley hated how her heart skipped at the sight of him but shook her head knowing he was drunk.

“Not that drunk.” Cole pouted at her, “Why don’t you like me?” Cole slurred his words still looking like a kicked puppy.

“What! Of course i like you Cole.” Brinley looked baffled that Cole thought she didn’t like him and rushed her words out quickly.

“Yeah but you don’t like like me.” Cole pouted more as he whispered to her.

“You’re drunk.” Brinley ignored his words bending down and brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“No i’m not drunk,” Cole pouted but happily leaned into her soft touch, “You won’t date me.” Cole still pouted.

“You’re my teammate and i’m your captain.” Brinley sternly told him, sounding like she had said that sentence many times.

“So, i just want you.” Cole sassed and looked at her with hopeful eyes, “I just want you Meels.” Cole repeated softly as his eyes slowly started to flutter shut.

“I want you too.” Brinley mumbled softly admitting her feelings once she thought he felt asleep and she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before standing up and walking out the door.

Cole’s eyes fluttered opened slighty watching her walk out of his room.

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remindingpersephone · 6 months

Text

Tequila Sunrise mocktail at Celery City Craft. It was delicious!

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billthedrake · 2 years

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DYNASTY

This story was inspired by A4F Tales' (@talesfromunderthemattress ) story Parental Unit. Consider this an unofficial sequel of sorts.

Kevin was driving. He almost always insisted on driving if it was the both of us. Now as I looked over at my older brother, I was glad he was behind the wheel since it gave me a chance to scope him out. Even now, after 8 years of being married, at least in our minds, I never got sick of looking at him. His hairline was receding but if anything that made his solid coach bod even better looking, kind of the best of both worlds, being a 31 year old dude starting to rock the daddy look a little.

"You think Dad hit the bars tonight?" I asked. Still feeling the glow of date night and the buzz of the extra glass of wine I had because I wasn't driving.

Kevin's normally serious expression turned into a slight laugh of a grin. "Probably bro. You know how he's alwasy going on about not getting enough pussy."

I chuckled and puffed out my chest like Dad as I imitated him. "What you boys have going on is great and all... but I'm 50/50, you know," I said in my best Craig Stansell baritone.

Kevin laughed. "Whatever it takes, babe," he said, looking away from the road quickly to flash me a grin. "Besides, the old man's almost 60. Let him have his pride."

"58 and a very fine 58," I chimed in. "You think we ever push him too much?"

My husband seemed to think that over a second. "Not really, no. If anything, maybe not enough." He patted my thigh. "If he found another woman, you know, settled down again... would you be upset, Kyle?"

I didn't have to think of my answer. "Selfishly, yes. But I want him to be happy bro, you know that."

"I do too, of course," Kevin continued, thinking out loud as he turned into our subdivision, where we'd been shacking up as brothers ever since I moved down to Florida to work under him in the college football program he coached. "I just think, you know, he's kind of what makes our relationship work so well."

I'd thought of that too. Kevin and I had both given up our asses to each other, many times, and would gladly continue to do so. But we both preferred topping and all around loved the rush of fucking a man. "We'd make it work regardless, Kevin," I objected. "But I know what you mean."

He nodded and held up his left hand after he turned toward our street. "It was fun wearing our bands when we go out."

"Fun's an understatement," I growled softly. It had been a nice romantic evening, but my big brother was gonna get me hard, fast. "Wish we could do it more."

"It's risky," Kevin said, lust in his voice. "But we'll have to find a way."

The Florida air was warm and muggy. That's the one thing I'd never get used to, but beyond that this was paradise. Maybe because it's a place Dad could take an early retirement to and not bat an eye, living in an in-law addition behind our place.

"Hey guys," our father said, peeling his eyes off a Ravens-Steelers game on TV. Ever since coaching college ball, Kev and I relished our Sunday days off, and had grown less interested in following the NFL religiously. But Dad was still sports obsessed and maybe missed his own coaching days, more than a little. "How was date night?"

Kevin casually patted Dad's meaty shoulder through the man's T-shirt. It still blew my mind how casually our father had sussed out me and Kevin's sexual relationship, early on and how he not only didn't seem to mind but actually covered for us. Only later did I discover he'd fooled around with our Uncle Rick growing up.

"Great," my older brother said, looking over at me with a wink. "Nice to have some one-on-one time with my special man."

Dad grumbled. "You boys should take your special time any goddamn time you want. Forget I'm here if you have to. You guys are married, and just because you asked me..."

"All right, Dad," Kevin laughed, holding up his hands like he was 17 and being delivered another lecture. "Me and me husband are gonna go to our bedroom and have hot date night sex, OK?"

Dad got a big grin on his gruffly handsome mug. Unlike Kevin he still had his full head of hair though it was almost entirely gray now and maybe not as thick as it once was. "That's more like it."

Kevin patted his shoulder and turned to walk back to our room. I knew he was horny from our conversation, and since yesterday was game day and as usual we didn't usually get around to sex, my brother was undoubtedly feeling as backed up as I was. "Good night, Dad," he said.

"Good night," I said to my father, only leaning in for a quick peck of a kiss. On the lips. "You OK on your own tonight, Dad?" I asked.

"Son... if you don't get back there quick, your brother's gonna have some major blue balls," he joked.

I about asked about his blue balls, but instead just took the hint. "All right, Dad. Have a good one."

Kevin was already naked when I got to the master bedroom. I liked stripping for him as he watched and stroked his fat brother bone. "Jack is doing a great job with you," he said, referring to the strength and conditioning coach for the team. Even if I wasn't a player, I took advantage of the man's expertise and encouragement. While Kevin had a naturally medium-build coach bod, I was getting more jacked, almost like a tight end. The more I did, the more my husband loved it.

"Remind me to thank him," I grinned, stepping forward naked to the bed.

We were both horny but we also loved the physicality of making out before swapping blow jobs.

I took my big brother's dick into my mouth, slowly working him up. "Damn, suck me KS," he urged, using my initials as a pet name ever since we first fooled around, back in the day. "Suck your big brother." Those words never failed to turn me on. I blew him with longer deeper mouth strokes, using my hands to feel his hairy balls and hold his prick. Kevin was in shape, but that coach-bod padding felt real nice and softly furred against my forehead as I managed a deep throat.

"FUCK!" my husband grunted, holding me down playfully on to his hairier crotch. "You're too good to me, man." He let up on his grip and I started bobbing again, trying to work him to a good, heavy cum.

Only as Kev was getting too close, he pulled me off, gently pushing my head back once his thick prick cleared my wet lips. "Let me return the favor, bro."

I nodded and I knelt on the bed, letting my older brother lean forward and start licking me. "God, I love date night," he hissed before he bagan taking me into his mouth."

It was hot, very hot, watching my successful head coach of a brother go down on me, his masculine face getting an intent look as he did his best to blow me. It had taken a few years actually to convince my cocky brother to actually go down on me. Now, he took oral service as a serious job, as much dedicated work as studying game tape. You'd think that approach would be a turn off, but instead it drove me wild to see Kevin treat my pleasure like his biggest mission in life.

I could have let him get me off, but something was on my mind.

"Think we should invite Dad back, bro?"

I thought Kevin might be pissed off or at least bark his usual reminder that it was date night. Instead he pulled off my hard dick and slurped back the excess spit before he nodded, "Go get him."

I leapt up like an excited puppy and strutted into the living room, naked and hard. Dad was still watching the game, and I startled him when I put both hands on his shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. "Feel like joining us?" I asked simply.

He looked up and his eyes went wide when he realized my nakedness. Kevin wasn't the only one into my new jacked-up body. "Don't want to spoil your date night, Kyle," he said softly.

"When did you ever spoil anything, Dad?" I asked. "But it's up to you. We'd love to have you with us tonight."

He nodded, and god I could tell he was horny for it. "If you're sure."

"Sure I'm sure," I said. I gave a reminder. "But it's the master bedroom."

We had a ritual about this. Turns out Dad was on board, as always. "I want that," he said quietly but confidently.

I appeared first, and Kevin was already lubing up his cock, confident Dad would come in too.

"Hey Dad."

It wasn't Kevin who said that but our father, who was stepping out from behind me and peeling off his T-shirt. His 58 year old frame had always been muscular, an ex-jock's build, but since moving to join us in Florida, he'd kept at the weights hard to stay solid. He was very much a silver muscle daddy, tanned and buff, though with the telltale roughness in his skin from a man that age.

"Pop says you guys want me to join you," our father added, getting into the psychodrama we'd honed over the years. One that played out not every night but at least once a week.

"Come on, son," Kevin said, patting the mattress and scooting to make a spare spot. "We love having you in our bed."

Dad never played favorites, but when we did role reversal like this, Kevin was Dad and I was Pop and that just intensified the bond he had with his eldest. I watched as Dad scooted next to my brother-husband, letting Kevin take the lead to claim a kiss as Dad's furry muscle daddy body almost arched like a cat in Kevin's greedy embrace.

I never got sick of watching those two men kiss. It was romantic and sexual at the same time, in equal parts.

It turned me on to see how much our father loved it. His old man had been a legendary football coach, and after a number of threesomes Kevin and I sussed out that Dad had some giant-sized Daddy Issues of his own. A little role play and pushing the envelope and we settled in on this.

Dad was our son only when joining us in the master bedroom, but we embraced it so heavily that for that time it felt real to us. Real to Kevin, real to me, and real to our dad.

For his part, Kevin outright loved playing Dad to our father. As hot as the sex was between me and my brother, this brought out his more assertive side.

Already he was making his way down Dad's silver-furred body, kissing down that mature muscle and nudging our father's legs up and back. Dad complied. "Oh yes, Dad," he hissed. "Eat out my son hole."

He got into it, into that intimate connection between my brother's tongue and his sphincter, gently loosened from Kev's and my regular fucks. "God, Pop, I love you guys," he hissed as I lay next to him. And like that, me and my father were kissing. Deep, tongues battling, sucking the air from one another.

We got lost in that incest kiss. Me being daddy for my father and both of us loving that head-fuck. Either we made out longer than I expected, or Kevin was real impatient that night. Before I knew it, Dad pulled back and turned to look at Kevin who was holding our father's legs and entering him with that heavy brother cock of his.

"God, yeah," Dad said. "Dick me, Dad. I need it so bad, sir."

The S word was like poppers to Kevin. He growled and plowed right in. The first time he'd taken Dad like that I was pissed off and a little worried. But turns out Dad loved it. Even if that ex-NFL-er cock softened at the rough intrusion, Dad was always back to full hardness quickly.

That's how it played out now. I watched excitedly as the dick that made me steadily got its lead hardness again. I slicked my father's prick up with lube and slowly stroked while Kevin pounded him with harder faster stokes.

"Fuck, son," my coach brother hissed, throwing that beefy body into an athletic performance. Even if I preferred to top more than bottom these days, just watching my husband in rut made my vers side rare up and crave Kevin inside me. We'd have to see how long I'd go before making that a reality.

"Fuck me Dad!" our father bellowed, getting real into it, his hips bucking a little to work his cock in my lubed fist and to meet the fantasy patriarch's thrusts. "Use my hole, sir."

Kevin's face scrunched up and I knew immediately he was coming. One of those sudden, no warning orgasm. His normally confident voice became a succession of whimpers as he ejaculated deep and heavy inside our father.

"Hell yes," our dad his, excited to be bred.

I was horny as hell now. Impatiently, I got up and practically pushed Kevin out of the way. "Fuck 'im babe," he growled, placing his meaty paw on my strong shoulder. I looked down and saw his amazing prick wet with fresh cum. The view of Dad's asshole was better. Legs spread wide, our father showed off the now fucked-open hole and the incestuous creampie oozing out.

I'd never done this before, though it had been on my mind. At that moment, horniness overcame any hesitation I had. I leaned down and started licking Dad's pucker.

"Oh SHIT, Bro!" Kevin exclaimed. I didn't have to see to know my brother's softening prick surged right back into a hard watching me felch on his load. It was evident in my brother's voice.

Dad actually chuckled at how nasty I was being. But didn't care. I licked deeper now, rooting for a stronger taste of Kev's cum. I figured if I was gonna have my first felch experience, I'd go all the way.

Dad helped me out, by pushing out a good bit of Kevin's load. That familiar brother-husband flavor filled my mouth, and it drove me wild to realize just how much he'd cum.

"Oh fuck!" I growled as I pulled back, my throat half clogged with that assload. I rushed as I got into the saddle. I hoped to god Kev's fuck was foreplay enough for Dad, because I was coming in. My entry was rougher and more sudden than Kevin's had been.

"Yeah, Pop," Dad hissed. No softening cock this time, my father's meat twitched in its hardness as I boned him.

The dad-son mating was fevered. Dad clenching at my body and me doing my best Kevin Stansell topping imitation. As I fucked Dad and as Dad called me Pop with every other stroke, I imagined doing this to my father over the years, as the man entered his 60s, and even his 70s...

The idea almost tripped my trigger but I held off so Dad could cum. I didn't want to leave the old man high and dry. So I slowed my strokes and tried to work his butt nut. "Yes," he hissed, getting into the new rhythm. It wasn't a Kevin imitation, but a Kyle Stansell fuck.

My brother had actually gone to piss, like he always does after a good fuck. I guess I'd forgotten about him, because I was surprised to feel his hands on my mind and his kiss along my neck. "You're beautiful to watch Babe," he whispered. Instinctively I leaned back into that kiss and embrace, even as I had to slow my fuck down to a slow hump.

It took me a second to register how greasy Kevin's lubed cock was and how adeptly it was rooting in between my tight-end-worthy ass cheeks. "Whaddya say, bro?" he grunted, licking and nibbling at my ear lobe.

I wanted it. God, I wanted. "Yeah," I replied, and all of a sudden I was the center of attention. Dad's eyes on me, hungry but amused at watching me take my brother's cock. Kevin feeling me up to coax me to relax.

My man knew he had to take his time. And it had been a solid four months since he'd fucked me. I was tight as fuck.

But something about that situation was opening me up. Slowly, then more steadily I felt Kevin's thick tool plowing in. Challenging me to accept all of him.

"He's big isn't he, Pop?" Dad asked.

I looked down in my father's brown eyes. "Feels even bigger going in," I answered.

"It's gonna make you feel amazing, Pop," Dad said with sincerity. "Always does."

Kevin loved being talked up like that, and he now thrust more excitedly into me. It was intense but in a good way. Particularly once Dad's ass started clenching down on my own cock, buried deep inside him. My father was stroking his meat once more and sending shock waves to my bone in the process.

I wouldn't saw we had a practiced rhythm doing a fuck sandwich, but we alternated between Kevin driving things and me being the one to move my hips between these two men.

Dad came first. The excitement of watching his two sons fuck combined with the stimulation in his ass.

"Fuck son!" Kevin exclaimed, watching over my shoulder as heavy spurts of semen spurted from our father's reddened cock. "Give it up, stud."

Just hearing those role play words in my ear got me off. I grunted in orgasm, wordlessly but my body tensing and revealing that I'd crossed the line in a major way.

Kevin's hips were now bucking faster, almost frantic in the guy's realization he had a brief window to get off in me before I lost the sex-fueled openness in my ass.

He made it, barely. My brother-husband's strong hands gripped my waist as he powered his second cum of the night inside me. Making up for no-sex Game Day. I accepted his seed, proud that I'd done this, put out for my man.

My brother gave a soft kiss to the back of my neck and slowly pulled out.

This was always the hardest part of the role play. Not going back to our real-life family roles. But we'd learned to keep it going. Wordlessly, we showered off, first me and Dad in the shower, before I stepped out and let Kevin join him.

"You going to sleep with us tonight, Son?" I asked as I toweled off and watched them rinse under the spray.

Dad looked over at Kevin, maybe expectantly but mostly trying to read his reaction. Kev patted Dad's ass. "Up you, son, but your dads would love to have you join us."

It was wild to see the mature man, a pro-ball veteran and a coaching legend in his own right, act like a deferential college kid with us. He smiled and his dick chubbed out a little as he nodded.

I thought I was spent, but my own prick firmed up at the sight. All the way to full erection. Kevin laughed. He'd cum twice and his beautifully thick prick hung soft, water dripping off.

"Gotta warn ya, Son," my brother said. "Us coaches can be real horny bastards sometimes."

Dad chuckled and I watched as he slipped out of Kevin's embrace and dripping wet, stepped onto the bath mat before crouching in front of me in that classic blow job kneeling position.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Dad.... Pop..." Then looking up at me he took my son-prick into my mouth.

#drakestories

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