The Golden Rule
Frankie Morales x f!reader
Summary: You wake up on the wrong side of the bed and Frankie takes the brunt of it all day. But he has one golden rule: a goodnight kiss no matter what.
Rating: E
Word Count: 2.6k
Content: Established relationship, reader has an attitude which Frankie takes the opportunity to fuck out of existence, smut (makeup sex, oral both receiving/69, unprotected pinv)
Masterlist
Some days started with a storm cloud.
The dim morning sun had found you in an empty bed festering in an already sour disposition. Where had he gone off to before the sun had even had a chance to rise? The weight of the mattress always felt off its equilibrium when he was gone, the blankets trapped less heat making it colder than you were accustomed to, it was no wonder you were awake hours before intended on a Saturday.
Agitation blistered in your chest as you swung out of bed into the chill of the early hours, the sun’s glow still too new to have warmed the air bitten by the moon. He’d left the toothpaste out and uncapped, the small misdeed that would have normally been a drop in the bucket swelled to the size of a tsunami. Muttering under your breath, you capped it and threw it back into the drawer, brushing the night away from your mouth with a renewed gusto as you wiped every droplet of water off the counter to spite his early morning disarray.
A pot of coffee was hot and waiting for you, your favorite mug set out and ready for you, but the gesture did nothing to extinguish your simmering flame. You left it abandoned, opting to grab one from the cabinet instead, searching for any signs of a mess that could further your grudge building brick by brick. You didn’t find one. However, you did find a note on the small dry-erase board on your fridge typically used for sweet good mornings and grocery lists: “Santi Airport” in his signature messy, all-caps print. Not even the little heart drawn underneath eased the tightening of your finger around the ceramic in your hand.
Did Santiago not know he needed a ride to the airport last night or had Frankie just forgotten to tell you he’d be running a taxi service this morning? Maybe if he hadn’t been so occupied until close to midnight he’d have found the time to tell you, but no, after a long week of work and appointments, he’d decided the best way to unwind was to organize the garage, once again leaving you for a movie night in solitude.
Well, if he was getting an early start so could you. When he returned home as the clock approached 9 AM, you were knees deep in housework, vacuuming the carpet of the living room with headphones blaring to purposefully avoid acknowledging his arrival home. You felt his hands first, wide and gentle, a touch that normally would have had you melting and your back pressing to his chest as teeth grazed softly over your jaw, but not today. You stayed rigid and on task, your eyes not even bothering to flick over to see if his hair was messily curling around the edges of the hat you didn’t even need to see to know was there.
Thick fingers plucked one of your earbuds out, your tongue clicking in annoyance as you were pulled from the little world of disassociation you’d thrust yourself into.
“You’re up early,” his deep timbre rumbled into your ear, your grievances with the man gripping you fighting its aftershocks in your belly, “Anything I can do, mi sol?”
“I’m sure you have other things to do,” you snapped, turning to snatch the little white device from his hand, which he pulled back enough to keep out of your reach as his brow furrowed.
“What’s this mood?”
“I don’t have a mood. I’m just busy.”
Surrendering to you, for now, he reminded you that the farmer’s market was in an hour, and when you refused his voice hinted at his own growing frustration with your tepid demeanor.
“You told me yesterday you wanted to,” he recalled, hands falling to his hips, “You don’t wanna go now?”
“Fine. If you want to go we can go,” you conceded, his lip curling as he fought a retort.
“I don’t care if we go. Do you want to or no?”
“I said yes!”
He walked too slow, chatted with too many people, and was laughing way too much for someone who was on thin ice, and when you got home he surrendered to your temper and busied himself in the yard. This annoyed you further, his unwillingness to continue trying to break through your icy barrier after spending his morning slipping on its surface stoking the rage still burning.
Dinner was silent, his eyes flashing over to you periodically as he tried to read the situation. You snuck a few glances as well, the lines between his brow more prominent as he mulled over what he might have done to deserve your animosity. He should know. By the time you crawled into bed, you were expecting him to free himself of your off-putting indignation, but the ever-persistent man he was had him sliding between the sheets with you, his fingers reaching for the TV remote as you grabbed your book from the nightstand.
“Can you lower that?” you snapped as whatever nature documentary he put on let out its first note.
“I can barely hear it,” he argued, “It’s on five!”
All you gave him was a grumble, and he clicked the volume down to three before struggling with finding the subtitles, the film barely audible now, but you weren’t about to admit that to him. Within the hour, the proximity you’d been furious about not waking up to had you perturbed to the point you tossed your book to the table and turned over with a huff, his attention pulling to you nestling beneath your comforter, back facing him, before he flicked off the television and lights.
Just as it had this morning, his palm was gripping at the soft skin of your waist, breath hot on your ear as he curled himself around you, his nose grazing along your cheek as he waited for what you owed him.
“No,” you barked, pulling the blanket up to your chin, but he remained in place, his fingertips digging into the plush of your side.
“You know the rule, mi sol,” he hummed and the darkness shrouded the way your eyes rolled in annoyance at his tradition.
Frankie never went to sleep without a goodnight kiss. It was his one golden rule. If you were asleep before him, he pressed it to whatever part of you was accessible, but if you were awake, a peck on the cheek simply wouldn’t do. You knew it was easier to just give in to him and end this miserable day now, it didn’t need to be prolonged, so you turned enough to give him access to your lips, his thumb and pointer lifting your chin the rest of the way.
It was soft and slow, lingering long enough to send a flare between your thighs from starving yourself of his touch since his morning greeting. This was all it took. In the fleeting seconds with his pouty bottom lip molding to the seam of your own, it began to extinguish the flames that had been burning all day, replacing them with new ones ready to set a new course. When he pulled away, it wasn’t lost on him that your mouth followed, you could feel his crooked smirk as he repeated the motion. Your lips pulled him in deeper this time, your craving growing more insatiable with every brush and peck, everything deepening and intensifying as you rolled onto your back and thread your fingers into his messy hair.
A wanton whine filled his mouth when his tongue dove between your breathless lips, his body finally sliding between your parted thighs. A warm hand grazed along the bare skin of your thigh as he pulled it up and around his waist, needing more of you surrounding him while his tongue swiped at yours, collecting the little desperate sounds he’d been determined to draw free. Noses were smashed against cheeks, his beard scraping at your chin and jaw as fervor took over and slick pooled between your thighs as your hand dove beneath the elastic waist of his shorts and boxers like it was on autopilot, firmly fisting his hardened length and tugging, eliciting a breathy sigh.
With a few shifts and lifts of hips and knees, you were bared from the waist down and watching with intent eyes in the dark as he lifted off of you and lined himself up, the head of his cock running through your already sopping folds, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. You were mewling already, your hips flicking up as he teased you, rubbing circles along your clit as you fussed in protest. He gave you what you wanted, bottoming out in one quick thrust and enjoying the way your legs snapped closed around his hips, locking him into place.
As you adjusted to his intrusion, he ripped the last barrier between your skin and his off and over your head, collapsing back down onto your bare chest with his own as he reclaimed your dizzying mouth. You could barely keep up with him, your focus intent on staying with the way he was stretching you out around his thick girth, your shaky breaths getting him drunk as he began to gently rock into you. All it took was a few scrapes of his course hair over your clit to have you at his mercy, his full length now battering into you as the slap of his hips against yours drowned out the sounds you were trying to subdue for now.
Strong arms had you spinning with a yelp, your body now sitting upright on him as he laid beneath you, wide dark eyes staring up and begging for you to move. Your legs were already quivering but you managed to set a pace that had you both panting, rolling your hips over him in a way that had every part of you getting the friction from him it needed, his fingers gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. His eyes couldn’t land, constantly flitting between the way your breasts swung on your chest, his cock disappearing into you, and the blissed-out look on your face, you were surprised he hadn’t flicked the light on yet. He always did like to have a good view.
The sight of him splayed out beneath you was one you never got tired of seeing. His broad shoulders led down to a tapered waist and soft stomach, his tanned, lightly freckled skin always begged to be explored whether it be by hand or mouth, your tongue always drawn to the spattering near the hollow of this throat. Pressure was building quickly as your pace picked up in speed, your hands perched on his torso for leverage as you rode him without inhibitions, those had gone out the window years ago. When your head was thrown back in bliss, throaty groans and the tightening of your cunt around him signifying you’d found the end of your rope, he sat up, his mouth exploring the wide stretch of your throat as the aftershocks of bliss went through you. But he didn’t give you long.
With a shocked whoosh you found yourself back on the mattress, eyes on the ceiling as he laid perpendicular to you, his hands spreading your legs wide and his tongue diving between them ravenously to collect what had leaked free. The cries you’d been trapping in your throat broke free as he displayed the prowess of his lithe, skilled lips and mouth, your fingers unable to avoid winding back into his hair to keep him in place as your knees lifted higher, granting him more room to access every inch of your folds.
As your back arched your hand reached for him, his lower half scooting along the mattress until you were face-to-face with his still damp cock, taking him into your mouth as he continued drinking everything your body offered. The taste of you still lingered as you swirled around his thick, hardened length, taking as much of him into your throat as you could with each bob of your head.
You settled into this rhythm, your leg comfortably wrapping beneath his arm to drape bent along his side, his head now laying on your other thigh, your bodies entwined like two vines sharing a trellis. He began to groan in sync with each swipe of his tongue and purse of his lips, whether it was from the effect of eating you or the way you sucked him was a toss-up, he loved both, but more so the first. Your throat was open for him now, your nose pressing to his sack as you held him in your warm, wet heat, his hips slightly pulsing in and out enough to make a soft little noise that sent him rappelling.
The blanket was pooled under your stomach as he flipped you onto your stomach, your knees bent, ass presented to him like a gift as your arms stretched out in front of you, an anticipatory sigh shuddering from your lips as you felt him breech your entrance slowly. He wanted you to feel every single inch of him, and you did, your ass fitting into the curve of his hips like a puzzle piece. Warm, rough hands ran along your sides and cupped at your breasts, your nipples finally getting attention as he tweaked them, his hips once again pistoning into you as he chased release. Sweat was raining down from his head onto your spine, his sounds growing desperate as he rut viciously into your soaking hole.
It never took long from this position for either of you, the way your ass rippled against the force of him and the precision of his strokes to the soft, spongy spot deep inside you was always a fast track to euphoria. You’d lost practically all coherency, a whimper falling from your swollen lips with every thwack of his body on yours, the tension in your stomach building once again as you waited for the final thrust that would snap the band stretching to its limits and send relief washing through you all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.
Only one word was able to flit from your tongue, the only one your brain could piece together, a simple pleading “Frankie” muttered into the thick air. It spurred him on faster and harder until he collapsed against your back, skin soaked and searing, his arms wrapping tightly around your middle as you clenched around him, milking him for every last drop of what he was spurting deep into your belly.
Boneless legs had you flattening down to the mattress, his equally spent body following and falling off to the side to not smother you, his ragged breaths still heavy in your ear as you nuzzled your head against him, your heart hammering against your sternum. He was softening inside of you, pearly white oozing out from around him and onto the blanket you’d now have to go without for the night. It was already a mess, might as well leave it and enjoy the moment wrapped up in the arms you’d missed all day, thanks to your own salty disposition.
“Sorry you had to wake up alone,” he murmured into your shoulder, his lips softly pressing to the damp skin, “I know you hate it.”
“Sorry I was rude all day,” you followed, turning in his arms to hug him tightly to your chest, your fingers gravitating to his wet, matted curls.
“You were rude.”
This earned a little chuckle from each of you, too familiar with the other’s quirks and flaws to hold a grudge.
“You’ll have to let me know how I can make it up to you,” you offered, nudging his lips back to yours with your nose, the slightest hint of you still lingering on his tongue.
“I have a few ideas,” he breathed into your waiting mouth, “But you’re folding the laundry tomorrow. All of it. I’m doing extra.”
And with that, you regretted the offer immediately.
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