Interruptions
Frank Castle x Reader
Kkovennâs Kinktober 2025 (Ao3) - Cockwarming, Distracted Sex || Word Count: 10,540
General Masterlist | Kinktober 2025 Masterlist
TAGS: service top!frank, frank and reader are engaged to each other, mentions of wedding planning, sex as stress relief, frustration from r because of distractions, faux choking (franks hand on reader's throat without any pressure), accidental and unintentional edging, reader takes a while to come, some shame abt it but frank dispels the thought, reader throws a hissy fit but frank handles it best he can and hes a good sport abt it, 2 pussy pronouns im sorry, mating press, clean up and aftercare yay
TAGLIST: @gumdropgirl, @yakydrah, @theladyblackfyre, @starlord3000, @final-sights
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Frank is a surprisingly active participant of wedding planning, but not necessarily for the details. Heâs more of a schedule guy, the one that makes sure the two of you get to all the meetings, tastings and test runs. Heâs the one that allots mental energy for remembering dates, meeting times, and the subsequent travel times it takes to get there and organizing them on a schedule.
Heâs also the calmer one between the two of you when you start to get too into everything that could go wrong.
So far, itâs been tiring. Truly. Nearly half a year of your weekends and after work days being occupied with planning. Half a year and still neither of you have decided whose side Karen is going to participate in within your mixed gender bridesmaids and groomsmen because you two met her at arguably the same time in your lives.
Half a year of feeling like youâre in and out of the wringer, the only thing making it worth it being the thought of the success of the event itself, the excitement for the coffee flavored wedding cake, and the fact that you were one of the luckier ones to have your fiancĂ© be so involved in the process of wedding preparation.
Half a year in, and you finally break.
â
Friday. Your solo drive home from work is quiet, music on low. Work had been incessantly overstimulating, so much so that even enjoyable stimuli was just too much.
Youâre looking forward to getting home and being in your loverâs arms, having a nice hot shower together, good food, good company, maybe some well deserved lovemaking to get you to sleep (if you both donât pass out first, youâve no idea of the kind of day Frankâs had, but youâre tired for sure) and then wake up to the weekend well past noon.
Perfect. Youâre desperate for a recharge. Just two days of nothing but rest and recuperation and youâll be half ready for the week after that. Itâll be enough to get you by.
You even made sure to crunch and finish some extra deadlines at work early, just so you get to pretend to work on them when you get back in the office on Monday next week.
You get home first, Frankâs van absent from the garage. No matter. The moment you unlock the door to your shared home and lock it again (as per his insistent requests), youâre practically already stripping yourself of your work clothes, dumping them by the bathroom floor.
You shoot Frank a text that youâre in the shower and extend an invitation for him to join once he gets home. You donât bother waiting for his reply before you jump straight in and turn on the water.
The first breath you take as the water hits your skin feels special despite the mundanity of the act. Itâs the kind of shower you wish could seep into your spine, but hot water can only make you feel so warm without making you feel like youâre singeing off your skin.
You immerse yourself into the act of just standing under the spray for a long, long while, not registering the opening of the bathroom door.
âSweetheart?â
Your eyes open. Frankâs here. You didnât even hear the main door unlock. You see the blur of his silhouette through the shower curtain. Heâs standing by the door.
âHi, Frankie.â You smile to yourself, inching the curtain open slightly behind you, then letting yourself take a quick peek.
âI uh, got your text.â He shucks off his jacket, brows raised, waiting for more confirmation in case youâd changed your mind.
Cute. You canât help the chuckle that leaves you. âSo why are you still out there and not in here?â
He grins at your reply, lifting off his shirt and undoing his belt to take off his pants. Thatâs all the confirmation he needs.
â
You end up just hugging Frank in the shower once he enters, and admittedly, he may have misread the mood. (Not that shared showers without sex were uncommon for both of you, heâd just been anticipating getting on his knees to get you off, relieve some of your stress.)
Regardless, he holds you in return, content just to spend time with you in such close proximity. âLong day?â He asks.
âYeah.â You angle your head for a kiss and he responds in kind, pressing his lips to yours. His hands move to your tailbone, pressing his fingers into the divots in small circles.
Heavenly. Itâs so fucking good coming home to Frank who knows how to touch you, knows how to soothe with his gentle strength, knows how to translate how well he understands you into action. You hug him tighter and he relishes in the way you melt into him and groan.
âHow about you?â You ask, cheek pressed into his chest.
âEh, thâ usual.â He shrugs. Not being in an office made for less eventful workdays, heâs found. He might also just be lucky that this new crew at the jobsite was full of people who minded their own business most of the time.
âWhatâd you want fâr dinner? Meatballs or chicken alfredo?â He offers options as he continues his massage because he can tell the last thing you want is yet another decision on your mind, but he still wants your preferences considered.
You make your choice as Frank squeezes some shampoo onto his hands, massaging it into your scalp. You busy yourself with lathering soap onto his skin, which was totally not just an excuse to get your hands all over his chest.
The shower ends with the two of you towelling off each otherâs hair, and you emerge from the bedroom to one of your favorite nightgowns on the bed, old and worn in, fabric softened by use. Beside it was a pair of panties as well. The garments likely placed here the moment Frank got home and before he entered the shower with you. Your lover makes no mention of the silent acts of service, instead, heâs already left the room after putting on a shirt and a pair of sweats, beelining for the kitchen to prep dinner.
You soak it all in with another deep inhale, towel still wrapped around you, alone in your shared bedroom. Just like that, the dayâs pace had slowed completely from itâs earlier hectic rhythm. You didnât have to do everything on your own anymore. Not for a long time. Not as long as Frankâs around.
Frank has a knack for calming you down like itâs as simple as breathing.
â
Your fiancé has a sauce going in a pot when you emerge from the bedroom. You go straight to making drinks.
âWe donât have anything scheduled for tomorrow, right?â You ask. If there was, Frank wouldâve mentioned it by now. He manages to be more on top of the schedule than you are.
Not that you arenât keeping track on your own calendar. Still, it doesnât hurt to confirm.
Frankâs licking off his thumb when he turns to you, taste testing the sauce from the ladle. âNothinâ fâr tomorrow, sweetheart. Yâcan sleep in.â
You let out a faux whispered, bodily exaggerated âyes!â that endears him as he works on the food on the stove.
âTry this.â He blows air gently onto a spoonful of sauce before presenting it to you.
Frank is a good cook even though heâs the kind that doesnât measure, just trial and error, small adjustments each time until he gets it as delicious as he can manage. You hum once the flavor hits your tastebuds.
âItâs good.â You hum up at him, kissing his cheek. He receives your affection with a small grin as he turns off the stove and starts making two plates.
âYâknowâŠâ You start. âHaving nothing scheduled for tomorrow also means we can spend more time together later tonight.â You hint at him, batting your lashes when the two of you meet at the dining table.
Frank knows that look, he gets it often, and he considers himself one lucky bastard for it. âYeah? Need a little somethinâ tâhelp you sleep, huh?â
He sits down beside you, and the mischief apparent on your face, coupled with the way you press your cheek into his shoulder as you nod, begets your answer.
â
Dinner passes at its regular pace even with your proposition for sex later that night. Frank isnât really the type to horse around when the matter came to food. Meanwhile, youâre just basking in the experience of being able to express wanting sex without a man immediately wanting to rush into it like a shark smelling blood.
Youâre at home here. At home with Frank. You love it.
By the time 8pm rolls around, the plates are in the dishwasher, kitchen and dining area clean. The two of you take turns brushing your teeth by the bathroom sink and freshening up.
Frank has you on his lap in bed by 8:15. Heâs shirtless, gone commando in his sweats. His hands are under your nightgown, petting your thighs, lips pressing against yours in open-mouthed kisses.
âIâve missed you all week.â You sigh, melting into the way Frank slowly locks your lips together.
âMm, missed you too, sweetheart.â He noses along the junction of your neck, pressing his lips to your skin every once in a while. âDonât think Iâve ever clocked out faster in my life when I saw yâr text. Needed that shower with yâreal bad.â Frank chuckles.
This week was especially packed for some reason, there being genuinely no day from the past six days that didnât entail a call or a meeting with your wedding planners and suppliers.
All that, on top of both your full time jobs, was nothing if not draining the life out of you. The two of you barely had time to indulge in each other past the usual routine of dinner together and five minutes of TV before succumbing to sleep.
It was reassuring to hear that Frank needed you the same way you needed him right now.
You smile tiredly at his words, eyes closing as Frankâs hands move back over your clothes, cupping your chest to thumb circles on your nipples. âAh⊠mmââ He meets your lips in another kiss, making your body run even warmer.
A string of saliva separates you two when you part, your own hands squeezing Frankâs biceps.
âWas ready to get down on my knees in the shower and eat yâout.â He confesses. âHelp my girl relax after a long week.â
You let out an amused hum, face flushed, lips bitten. That did sound amazing, but you had a different order for your mental itinerary.
âI canât say Iâm not a fan of thatâŠâ You chuckle. âBut I wanted to finish everything first.â You feel Frankâs hand cup your cheek, and you respond by leaning into it and placing your own hand over the back of his. âSo there wonât be anything left to interrupt us.â
âYeah, figured.â He replies, tilting his head to the side with this tender gaze, simply admiring your features. He smiles, closes his eyes briefly when you lean in at kiss the bridge of his nose.
âYâgot any ideas, sweetheart?â He asks, looking up at you again, tone low, thumbs now circling your hips over your loose clothing. âIâll make âem happen.â
Frank likes it when you get to choose how he gets to touch you.
Warmth spreads through your body at the question. Regardless, you did have a position in mind, your back to Frankâs chest, his hands all over your body, legs spread over his strong thighs while youâre impaled on his cock.
Your mouth waters at the thought.
âYeah.â You reply.
He watches you as you turn, quick to realize the position youâre going for, hands hovering under your forearms in case you lose balance. You sit yourself on Frankâs lap in the exact way youâd imagined and he pulls you close to him.
âYou like this position a lot, donâtcha?â He murmurs from behind you.
Your spine tingles from the sound of your loverâs voice. Youâre flustered as you reply, as if caught doing something you shouldnât be. âI like when you hold me.â
âThat right?â He kisses along the side of your neck, humming when you tilt your head to accomodate the action. âWant me to fuck you just like this, huh?â
Your hips grind down on his lap at the thought he proposes. âYes.â You look up at him. âPlease.â
âAlright, baby.â He coos. âRelax fâme.â
He noses along the base of your neck, grunting in satisfaction when you grab him by the wrists to move his hands, one at your clothed core and the other at your chest.
âAttagirl.â He canât help but groan. Thereâs nothing Frank loves more than when you tell him what you want so directly.
He hikes your nightgown up, slips his hand under the waistband of your panties, sighing contentedly at the familiar feel of coarse hair against his fingertips. He finds your clit quickly, circling it in slow, gentle nudges.
His other hand busies itself with cupping your chest, pleasuring your nipples with subtle passes of his fingers.
âMmââ Electricity buzzes up your spine, pools at the tips of your fingers.
You try giving yourself over to Frank, breathing deep, willing your mind to stay quiet. For once in a long time, there should be no pressing matter at hand other than the sleep youâll get later, Frankâs hands on your body, and his unspoken but mutually understood promise of multiple, deeply satisfying orgasms.
Frank makes sure of the last one every time, even at the cost of his own (not that youâd ever allow that. Youâre both stubborn about each otherâs pleasureâwhich is probably why itâs always so exciting to indulge in each other even after so long together).
But there was a little something that kept nagging at you, persistent, a thought so present in your head that it made it hard for you to empty your mind. You shouldâve mentioned it to Frank earlier, but you were too wrapped up in getting to this point.
Frankâs chest is to your back, his warmth seeping into you, voice rumbling behind you as he speaks. He notices youâre still just a tad bit tenser than usual despite his usual gentle touches. âWhatâre yâthinkinâ about, sweetheart?â
Your shoulders roll. As much effort as you exert, you needed just a bit more help to convince yourself to truly relax. âJust⊠Itâs just tiring. Weâre doing so much but we arenât even halfway done.â You frown.
Your lover nods behind you, knows that youâre referring to the wedding the two of you have been planning for what felt like ages. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. âWeâre not behind.â He reminds. Heâs made sure of it, and youâre nothing but thankful. âDonât havâto finish it all so soon either. Just get to what wâcan.â
âI know, itâs justâŠâ You take a deep breath, thighs tensing, breath catching with Frankâs ministrations along your clit. âIâm not trying to be ungrateful. This is a great problem to have, but⊠itâsââ a breathâ âexhausting.â
âMhm.â He listens, lets you verbalize your frustrations as he kisses the tip of your earlobe, stops cupping your chest in favor of holding one of your hands in his own. He takes a while to reply, silently assessing the kind of comfort you need at the moment.
âWeâve got the weekend to ourselves. Sleep in tâmorrow. Order out.â Frank offers a comfier perspective.
âMhm.â You smile, squeezing his hand in slow pulses.
Frank continues speaking. âClose yâr eyes fâme. Yeah? Let me talk to my girl all nice, jusâ how she likes it.â
You sigh, shifting into a more comfortable position. You do as Frank says, closing your eyes. Deep breaths. Letting yourself sink into the feeling of being held and being close and being touched so precisely that the mere memory gets you wet.
Him acknowledging and engaging with your tired thoughts finally clicks your mood fully into a nicer place. He knows youâre exhausted, and now the two of you get to indulge in each other to soothe that tiredness, be the balm to each others sore muscles, sink into the slowness and the pleasure that comes with your personal curated brand of intimacy with Frank.
The familiar feeling of his hands under your clothing, fondling you so affectionately, goes straight to your cunt. The fingers at your mound continue to pet your clit, catching the wetness pooling at your slit to give you a smoother sensation. Frankâs other hand is at your breasts, thumbing gently along each nipple.
âMy girl needs some extra lovinâ to get some good sleep, yeah?â He whispers, voice low and gravelly against your ear, setting the mood by nudging your thoughts towards less stressful matters with his choice of words. âYâneed a bit more than just one to get yâsatisfied?â
Frank is so, so warm behind you. âYeah⊠And youâll give it to me, right?â
Frank practically purrs at you engaging with his sweet talk, tone low in his chest, his cock straining against his sweats. ââAnythinâ for my sweetheart. You know that.â He kisses your cheek. âJusâ gotta tell me.â
He allots a bit more pressure onto your clit, feeling the warmth on his fingertips. âTell me what yâwant, baby. Câmon.â
You groan, heels digging into the sheets. âI want⊠Want you to fuck me.â
âYeah...â He shifts one of his thighs, inching your own apart. âI hear you. Let me make you come first, okay?â
You nod, hips bucking into his fingers. Frank keeps his gentle pressure. Slow. Tender. Insistent. The sound of your ragged breathing goes straight to Frankâs cock.
âThatâs it, sweetheartâŠâ He whispers gruffly, in that tone so kind and considerate it contrasts so nicely with how Frank initially shows up as. He keeps touching you, body warm behind yours, arms solid in the way they cage you to him.
You close your eyes and sigh.
â
Its taking a while.
Too much of a while, really.
You whine, shifting in Frankâs lap. Despite him touching you just right and talking to you the way you were craving, the ache of your joints was too apparent for you to relax, mind too full to give you enough space for respite. There was still something missing. You need more that just this.
âFrank.â Your tone shifts, less whiny and more desperate. âI need you, please.â
His brows furrow. âDonât wanna come first, honey?â
A breath. âI canâtââ
Frank nods, knows its not him, just your mind working against you. His fingers slow in their pace at your clit before stopping, his arms move to wrap around your midsection. It was one of those days. His girl was just too restless, too active, sharp mind working overtime. Thatâs all.
âWant me tâfinger you now?â He whispers, gaze trained onto you, trying to more accurately assess his approach.
âPlease.â The desperation in your tone tugs at his chest. Frank grunts his understanding of your wishes, kissing along your neck.
âAlright, baby⊠Iâve got you.â He pops two of his fingers in his mouth before pressing them to your clit. His hand at your chest moves lower, gathering the slick pooled at the seam of your cunt before gently pressing one finger at your entrance.
âThis okay? Deep breathsâattagirl.â He guides your body and mind to listen, to receive, never wanting to force you into anything, pacing himself so you only ever get to take what you can handle despite your frustration for more.
You feel Frankâs finger inside, and he times himself to slide in another before curling them at your sweet spot. That, coupled with his unrelenting gentleness on your clit, makes you tremble. âNghââ
âHold onto me, sweetheart. Iâve got you.â He whispers, rewarding you with praise when you do as he says. One of your hands rest at his bicep, the other on his forearm. His arms flex with the angle and the way they move to give you pleasure. Being wrapped up in Frankâs strength like this makes you gush all over his fingers.
âThatâs my girlââ He hums when your hips start to move, chasing the tender feeling of his fingers. The motion makes you grind onto his cock, which in turn makes Frank have to close his eyes, breathing deeply to calm himself.
Heâs grunting, enamoured with your squirming, with how you canât seem to decide on arching back into him or away from him, how youâre panting too.
âFrankââ You grind a bit harder, impatience gnawing at your tired psyche. âCâmon.â Your cunt clenches around his fingers, missing the usual stretch his cock gives you.
âShh, sh⊠Slow down, baby. Iâll give yâone more, yeah? ShhâŠâ He cajoles, urging you to sit still. âStay still.â
He takes the opportunity to slide a third finger inside you, using the hand petting your clit to distract from any discomfort.
He waits a while, inching his fingers in and out slowly, still not wanting to rush no matter how hard he is in his sweatpants.
You, on the other hand, harbored a bit less patience. âFrankie-â
âI know, baby⊠I know.â He consoles, kisses your temple affectionately. âKnow you need me, and I need you too but itâs been a while, alright?â
You huff, unable to argue with his logicâbut the sense in his answer doesnât magically make the impatience disappear.
âJust lay back, Iâll take care oâthe rest.â He tempers your whining with more promises. âWhen have I ever left yâhanginâ, hm?â
Frank made it his mission to get you to come every time, so this was an easy question to answer. His phrasing puts it into clearer perspective. There was no doubt that Frank would deliver. Your body stops tensing, mouth agape. You shake your head no. âNever.â
âMhm, Iâll do right by ya. Always do right by my girl.â He kisses the top of your head again. âThe sooner yârelax, the sooner I can fill yâup, yeah?â
That was the little piece of logic that pierced through the tired fog in your mind. The promise of being tended to alongside the realization that Frank did understand how urgently important this felt to you finally lets your mind settle.
âRightâŠâ Frank hums at your reply, pleased with himself when he feels your body melt against his own. He knows heâs got you where you want to be when youâre so quick to heed his request. You practically go limp on his lap.
âI want it too.â He confesses, not that it wasnât obvious with how goddamn hard he is in his sweatpants. âI missed makinâ yâcome.â He murmurs lowly. âMissed feeling you come around my cock.â
You whine, body arching, a cocktail of embarrassment and desire stirring deep in your stomach. Frankâs fingers against your sweet spot dull the mental ache. âIf you missed it so much you should make it happen fasterââ
He chuckles. âYouâre right.â He agrees, cooing at you. Your snark contrasts against your now more relaxed body language, so he engages with you (not that he ever doesnât). âShh, shâŠâ
Frank angles a fourth finger in, taking note of the way your body tenses and your breath pauses. You grunt at the stretchâyour lover was right to take his time. As much impatience as youâve displayed about the entire ordeal, you were subconsciously appreciative of Frankâs insistence on your usual preferred slow pace in intimacy.
âDeep breaths fâr me.â His nose bumps against the side of your head as he softly bites your ear. He grunts as he feels your clit jump against his fingers. âGood girl.â He keeps up his gentle pace, coaxing you to relax, keeping track of the way the tenseness ebbs away from you bit by bit.
You try to squirm some more, but every time you do, Frank coaxes you to relax, lay back, and let him do the work.
After what feels like an eternity, Frank finally slips his fingers out of you. Itâs near uncomfortable for you with how wet you are. He moves his hand away from touching your nub, whispers for you to sit up a bit, just enough so he can slip his sweats by his ankles and free his achingly hard cock out out of his sweatpants.
He groans when you reach for the back of his head as you sit back down, tugging at his hair. âMmââ
âCâmonââ You whine, spreading your legs, heels digging into the sheets. Frankâs cock is between your thighs, tip flushed red and leaking pre.
Now that the two of you were on more of the same page, your frustration has turned into something more endearing than concerning to him. Frank canât help having his ego fed with how much you need him.
âAlright, shhâŠâ He coos at you as he holds himself at the base with one hand, his other arm under one of your thighs. He inches the gusset of your panties to the side.
âEasy, baby. EasyâŠâ He whispers as he sinks you over his cock. âOh, sweetheart.â
Your warmth envelops him so fucking nicely it makes his head spin. His breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling in deep, shaky breaths behind you as he bottoms out. He touches your nub gently, supplementing the stretch with pleasure.
âFeel okay?â Frank murmurs.
âYesââ You pant. âAlways feels good with you.â
âYeah?â He whispers, still testing the angle. He urges you to lean back into him more so he has a better shot at rubbing up against your sweet spot. It takes a bit longer than usual, heâs more used to missionary, after all.
Still, he knows heâs got it when he feels the familiar clenching of your walls against his girth. The speedy huffed exhale that follows.
Your mouth hangs open for a moment, one of your hands grasping at his forearm.
âHere?â
âYeahââ
Frank nods, the ghost of a smile on his face when he feels your free hand search for his own. He catches onto what you want, intertwining your fingers together.
The fingers of his other hand cup your clit in slow circles.
âPractically made fâr me. Takinâ me just rightââ Frank groans, kisses your cheek in a soothing gesture, âCanât get enough of you.â
His words make you squirm, drool pooling at your mouth. Finally. Finally. Itâs so goodâ
Youâre stuffed full of Frankâs thick cock, back to his chest. Heâs petting your nub with just the right amount of pressure. Youâre breathing deeply, cunt clenching around him, thighs spread across his. Itâs quiet, your lovemaking is reduced to the sound of both of your ragged breaths and the quiet shifting of the sheets with how Frankâs jutting into your sweet spot in small, barely there adjustments.
âFrankââ
âIâve got you.â He reassures. You donât even know why you called his name just now. One of your hands reaches back to tug at his hair again and he groans. âNeed me real bad, huh?â
Heâs coaxing out sweet, sweet mewls from you, nudging his nose into your cheek before pressing a kiss there.
Itâs perfect. Youâve turned into mush on his lap.
Frank lets go of your hand to gently tap two fingers of against your lips, you let them in and let them rest on your tongue. The rough pads of his fingers contrasting with the wetness of your tongue makes his cock throb.
âAtta fuckinâ girl⊠yâfeel good?â
You nod, eyes closing, response muffled by Frankâs fingers as your mind starts to be submerged in that familiar deep water, drool pooling at the edge of your mouth. âMhm.â
Thereâs nothing to focus on but your breathing and the pleasure pulsing throughout your body as Frank tends to you and your needsâ
RING. RING.
Itâs Frankâs phone. Itâs his obnoxiously loud ringtone that you happily tease him about how it evokes him being an old man most days.
RRING. RRING.
Itâs the one that gets louder if you leave it be. Useful, but nothing but rage inducing in the moment.
You groan, looking up at him with pleading eyes. His fingers leave your mouth, he wipes them off onto one leg of his sweatpants and he reaches for the phone.
âNoââ You whine.
RRRING. RRRING.
âDonât answer it!â You complain as he glances at the screen.
âSâthe wedding planner, sweetheart.â He replies, pressing a kiss to your cheek to console you. âIâll handle it. Shh. Jusâ relax.â
His other hand keeps petting your clit as he swipes the screen to answer his phone, pressing the device to his ear.
âHâllo?â
You try your hardest to keep quiet despite the complaints bubbling in your throat. Frankâs cock is still pressed right at your sweet spot, making you feel him with every breath. Heâs still sliding his finger along the slit of your clit so, so gently and itâs so fucking sensitive. Just enough for you to handle it but too much in the way it makes your limbs all tingly.
You busy yourself with grinding your hips, trying to make the most out of the bothersome distraction. Your mind works against you though, because you canât help but tune in intently to the conversation being had.
The faint voice on the other side of the phone call is unintelligible. You can only piece together whatâs being talked about based on Frankâs replies. âTomorrow? Yeah, sâpretty short notice.â
He presses his lips to the top of your head, fingers not letting up. The way youâre warm and heavy and squirming all over him makes his cock twitch inside you. Frank has to close his eyes and bite the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning, knuckles white as he grips his phone.
You canât quite appreciate his restraint though, because did you hear that right? Tomorrow? Thereâs something scheduled for tomorrow? Absolutely not. You stop. Youâre about to speak out, riot, curse someone whose just doing their job outâbut Frank seems to already have beat you to it in a much more respectable fashion.
âMind if we reschedule that fâr the weekday instead? We already got a family thing tomorrow. Canât cancel.â
Youâd fall in love with him all over again if the entire situation didnât endlessly frustrate you.
âAlright, âppreciate it, thanks.â Finally, the call ends with him pressing âendâ. Frank sets his phone back on the bedside table and his attention is returned to you immediately.
âWhat was that about?â
âWedding planner said she forgot to mention us havinâ a uh, meetinâ tâmorrow to go over the invitation designs.â He murmurs, peppering kisses along your neck.
That explains the call way past working hours, but that doesnât make you feel any better either. Now youâre back at square one, mind unable to resist viewing over your mental checklist of things still pending for the wedding; flowers, the theme for the venue, the centerpieces, hair and makeup tests, you havenât even gone to pick out a dress yetâ
Frank feels you tense up, the combined efforts of getting you to relax gone like the wind.
âSweetheart.â He calls for you. âHeyââ
âYeah.â You blink, taking a deep breath. âSorry⊠just thinking.â
âSâokay.â He reassures, knows how you get, is familiar with how a big part of your relationship is him helping you understand that itâs okay to slow down, that life wonât leave you behind, that you didnât have to do everything right now until you have to stop.
Heâs stopped moving his hips a while back, one arm now wrapped around your midsection. The hand on your clit has since retreated to rest on your thigh in a grounding touch.
âWant me to keep going, sweetheart?â He asks, not an ounce of impatience in his tone. That helps. Itâs okay. Things are okay.
âYes, please.â Frank nods at your answer, lips pressed into the top of your head.
âPut my hands where you want âem, yeah?â He encourages you to be more present. Here. With him instead of wherever your thoughts like to take you.
His words go straight to your cunt, your eyes closing for a brief moment before you nod. You take Frankâs hands, place one back to your mound and the other at the base of your neck.
Heâs quick to pet your clit again in slow, soft circles. Heâs a bit surprised by the way youâve placed his other hand on your neck, so he waits before doing anything there.
âJust hold me here.â You gulp. Thereâs a thrill that shoots through both of you at the way Frank can feel how you swallow against his palm. âI donât⊠actually want you to squeeze.â
He nods, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. âGot that, sweetheart.â
Frank listens to your request. Of course he does. He whispers sweet praise to your ears as heâs canting his hips up again in barely-there increments.
Your breath catches, the head of Frankâs cock presses up against your sweet spot again, gently, so slowly that you feel every inch and nudge.
It feels so good. Everything is okay. Frank affirms that. âThereâs nothinâ that needs your attention right now âxcept you feelinâ good.â He coos. âBreathe with me, câmon.â
You match your breathing with the steady rise and fall of his chest behind you, rewarded with his gravelly praise. âAttagirl. Jusâ like that.â
Frank takes you both back to the earlier slow and sensual rhythm youâd been interrupted from.
Your head rests on his shoulder, eyes closed. Your lover is kissing the side of your neck every once in a while between whispers of how good you feel, how pretty you look, how nicely youâre taking his cock.
Your toes curl, heels digging into the sheets, youâre being handled so tenderly.
âSâit feel good for you?â Frank asks, steady in the manner in which heâs touching you.
âYesââ You pant, eyes opening. You canât see him much from where heâs seated behind you, only parts of the side of his face with the way heâs diving into your neck with kisses.
You lean your head beside his, cheek brushing up against his hair. Frankâs next words make your body tingle even more.
âCould yâtell me how good it feels, sweetheart? Yeah?â
You bite your lip for the briefest moment, a whine slipping from your throat before you speak. âOkayââ
âYouâre so patient⊠with me.â Frankâs eyes dart towards you at your words. Heâd expected the usual dirty talk, call and response, the lewd thoughts you seem to always have ready when asked.
Not this.
âMm?â He signals heâs listening, not that he has to, heâs always been an active listener. It meshed well with how you operated, how you had a tendency to untangle your thoughts verbally because your mind is usually too full to not have to lighten the load.
âWeâve been at this fâr so longâŠâ You lean further back into his shoulder.
âYâr not enjoyinâ it anymore, sweetheart?â
âNo, no. I amâŠâ One of your hands reaches for the hair at the back of Frankâs hair, not really tugging, but your lover can feel the pleasurable pull regardless. âI am.â
âIâm just so moody, even here. We couldâve been finished sooner if I wasnât so worked up all the time.â Your brows ares drawn together, eyes focusing their attention on other things in the room.
âYeah? Well yâr workinâ yourself up thinkinâ âbout all this, yâknow.â Frank chuckles, an amused huff heaving his chest behind you.
You laugh, the playful (but not untruthful) jab snapping some sense into you. âThatâs trueâŠâ
âMhm.â Frank kisses the side of your head, ups the ante of his hips for a more insistent grind against your walls. He gathers some more slick on his fingertips before circling your clit again.
âLetâs try again, yeah?â He coos. âTalk tâmeâŠâ
Frank continues. âHowâs it feel with me touchinâ yâr pretty clit like this?â
Your face feels warm at his words, breath catching. âGood.â
Frank nods, eyes trained on the way youâre writhing and willing and mostly relaxed atop him, his cock sheathed inside your warmth, squeezing every once in a while as the pleasure heâs giving you compounds.
He licks his lips before he speaks next words. âWhyâd you put my hand around yâr neck like this?â He doesnât squeeze, he wouldnât dare. Only ever heeding your preferences. His sweetheart.
That makes you think of (thankfully) less stressful thoughts. Why did you place Frankâs hand there?
You gulp, the calloused palm of your lover steady and grounding against the base of your throat. âI⊠I like feeling how big your hands are.â
âCould do that by holdinâ my hand, though.â He teases, chuckles softly.
âShut up.â You swat lightly at his bicep. Your face flushes, and you fix him a glare to the best angle your head can manage. You barely see him and you have no idea if he can see you. But itâs there.
âMâkiddin, baby. Mâkidding.â Frank laughs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. âYou like havinâ it here?â
Youâre a bit too frustrated and equally fucked out of your mind to articulate why you like having it there. Itâs not even choking because Frankâs not squeezing, you asked him not to and heâs not tried.
Maybe its the power play of it all, the subversion. The way it seems like Frankâs overwhelmingly dominant over you right now with the way heâa holding you when itâs really you calling the shots. When heâs really the one giving you options, when heâs moreso the one curating the intimacy, servicing you with your preferences at the forefront.
Maybe its the trust, how safe you feel whenever Frankâs concerned. How overwhelmingly competent he is while being borderline overprotective of your boundaries.
Maybe itâs just that, the competence. His tendency to handle because heâs got it. Heâs got you. How he finds so much fulfillment in having you fall apart just enough, using what heâs learned about you so masterfully you sometimes feel like your mindâs been read before youâre even aware of the thought forming yet.
Frank talks with his hands, in the way he serves, always so steady, making everything he touches better despite his insistence that heâs just âdoinâ whatâs rightâ.
The blunt head of his cock drags along your sweet spot, and Frankâs just now parted the coarse hair of your mound again so he can slide an adept finger under the hood of your clit, and in that moment, your brain turns to mush.
âI do. I like it.â You manage to utter out, before you break into a strangled moan. Your own hands move to grip at his forearms for stability, even though you could melt and still not go anywhere with how solidly Frankâs wrapped himself around you.
âYeah? Yâlike how Iâm touchinâ my girl?â Frank groans, his own body overwhelmingly warm. The head of his cock is sensitive with how long heâs been grinding onto your pleasure points, but he persists. Breathes sharply out of his nose, bites with his lips at your shoulder.
âYes, yes yesââ Your lover moans gruffly at the way your clit jumps against his fingers, your walls pulsating around the base of his cock. âIâm going to come⊠Frankââ
âIâve got you⊠Let me have it, sweetheart. Câmon, babyâŠâ
Close, close closeâ Youâre so close. Your heels dig into the sheets, the involuntary writhing of your body only unintentionally amplifies the pleasure.
Your mouth hangs open, your lungs take a deep, shaky breathâ
RING.
Itâs your ringtone this time. Not Frankâs.
Your head falls back against your loverâs shoulder, orgasm halted. Youâre thinking again. Who could be calling? Why are they calling? What time is it to warrant a call?
RING.
Your ringtone is taunting you. To say itâs infuriating is an understatement.
Tears well up in your eyes, your already overwhelming frustration from earlier has quadrupled. Frank consoles you, cooing at you that its okay. He eases the hand at your cunt onto your thigh to do some soothing, grounding motions.
RING.
He reaches over to the nightstand, seeing the caller ID listed as the wedding florist. He answers on your behalf.
âYeah, this is a bad time.â He replies after a moment, your phone pressed to his ear. His brows are drawn, jaw clenched, frown etched deep into his features. âListen, think this can wait âtill next week, yeah? Sânot really a good hour tâbe callinâ âbout work. Wifeâs already asleep. Long work week.â
Frank ends the call with a curt âthanksâ. He returns your phone to the nightstand, makes sure both his and yours are on do not disturb before placing his attention back to you.
Any other time, hearing him refer to you as his wife even when you two havenât actually gotten married yet wouldâve put a smile on your face, but right now, youâre devastated. Whatever prank the universe is playing by deciding to shove two interruptions into your well deserved time of rest, you did not appreciate one bit.
You lift yourself off of Frankâs lap, laying on your side of the bed instead and tugging the blanket over your form.
Frank squints, but he makes no move to stop you. He hikes his sweats up for some decency, unminding of the tent. Youâre acting out of frustration, thereâs too much on your mind.
Youâre well aware youâre throwing somewhat of a hissy fit, and granted it wasnât even Frankâs fault. But this is half a year of frustration welling up. All that effort into a satisfying climax completely ruined by phone calls that werenât even emergencies. Calls that could have genuinely waited until the next morning. Calls you would have gladly entertained had they been made a few hours later, into the next day, instead of right now.
Your mood is ruined. Tears well up in your eyes. You already harbored some deep rooted shame over taking a while to come, and now itâs only been amplified by whatever the hell just went down.
âHey.â You feel Frank before you see him. His hands cupping your face. âHowâs my sweetheart feelinâ?â
He settles on hovering over your form, the blanket sandwiched between your bodies. One of his hands are beside your head, the other thumbs along your cheek.
You frown up at him, and worry colours his features. âTalk tâme.â He urges, voice gruff but navigating your mood with care. He wouldnât dare continue if you really didnât want to, but there was no denying that you really did want it, those two calls just seemed to complicate things.
You lean into his touch, finally meeting Frankâs gaze. A stream of complaints escape you. Those damn calls, how itâs not the callersâ faults but you canât help but be mad, how tired you are, how much youâve been looking forward to ending the week in a satisfying way only to be interrupted twice.
Throughout it all, Frank listens attentively, letting you get it out of your system. His thumb drags along your cheek idly as you speak.
"Iâm sorry.â You hide your face behind your hands. Frank lets you, but only for the briefest of moments. âI already have it so good and Iâm still being a piece of shit.â
"Shh.â You feel his hand pull yours away gently. Heâs currently holding himself up on his other elbow to not crush you under his weight.
"Yâr not a piece of shit, baby.â Thereâs an angle of absurdity in your train of thought that makes Frank laugh just a little. âNothinâs wrong anymore. Itâs handled.â
"Right...â The weight of his patient gaze makes the ache in your chest dissipate bit by bit.
âEverythinâ else can wait.â Frank cups your cheek, thumbs near your undereye. âNo more calls. Jusâ you nâ me, and me helpinâ you come, yeah?â
Your face flushes despite your own frustration. âCan you wait, still? I take so long to finishâŠâ
ââCourse I can, sweetheart.â He chuckles. âI get to make you feel good for longer? Kinda man would I be âf I complained âbout heaven?â Frank replies, shrugs. He likes that it takes a while. Likes that intimacy with you doesnât feel fleeting because it takes you a while to get to a climax.
His reply and him not looking like heâs ticked off in the slightest puts your mind at ease, helps you realize that your worries about Frankâs dissatisfaction with this were just you projecting your own impatience with yourself onto him.
He knows your ticks, and heâs exactly where he wants to be when they happen, he thinks to himself, his large hand thumbing at the apple of your cheek softly.
A small relieved sigh escapes you, Frankâs doting gaze never leaving you as he asks you a question. âMind if I get under thâ blanket with you? Sâchilly out here.â
âSorry.â You laugh, realizing heâd been half laying over your blanketed form for your entire rant. You lift the blanket on one side, trying to shimmy it up over his back.
He leans down to kiss you after he maneuvers himself into the small blanket cocoon youâve made, whispering a quiet âsâokayâ to your cheek. You spend a while like that, exchanging kisses, Frankâs form quite literally acting as a weighted blanket over you. The warmth seeps into your tired body, offering a momentâs respite from the outside world.
âWanna keep goinâ?â His thumb gently drags along the apple of your cheek. Thereâs this subtle, but very handsome smile on his face and it reminds you that everythingâs okay.
You take a breath before answering. âYes.â
 He gives you two more kisses, one on each cheek. âWant me tâmake you come?â
His choice of words make your body run warm. âMhm.â
âLet me hear you say it, sweetheart.â He coos softly, hand cupping the back of your head.
You feel yourself pause at the way your face grows warm. âPlease make me come, Frank.â
Frank ducks his head under the covers, whispering a hushed âattagirlâ against your skin. He makes his way lower, his hands warning you of the path his lips plan to kiss along.
The blanket laid over his back as he descends leaves you bare to the ceiling of your shared bedroom. Frank lifts your nightgown up to your chest, peppering kisses along the plush of your tummy until he eventually reaches the waistband of your panties.
The tip of his nose drags along the garment, hands cupping the tops of your thighs to gently spread your legs. He licks your clit through the fabric, alternating between suckling and dragging his tongue along the tip.
âFrank, donât teaseâŠâ You truly, normally wouldnât mind, but your impatience tonight has been testing you.
Your lover murmurs a quiet apology against your mound, huffing a mildly amused breath.
His palms gently run along your inner thighs before he moves to slip your panties off and discarding them by the bed. ââll make it up tâyouââ He parts the hair at your mound, licking a stripe up the slit and ending to suckle at your nub.
He drinks in the long sigh you let out, groans when he feels your hips moving ever so slightly against him. He translates that as to you needing more, so he cups his tongue under the hood of your clit as he tastes you and grinds against the appendage in small increments.
âOhââ
You feel his hands take yours, thumb running along your knuckles before maneuvering them to the top of his head.
You know what he wants, and thereâs something so damn hot about how he asks you to hold onto him.
A tug at his hair makes Frank moan against your core, deep and satisfied.
You feel your clit twitch against his tongue, Frank not letting up on his movements. It felt good, but youâve been wound up all day and you need more.
You pull one of the pillows beside your head down to the empty space on the bed beside your hips.
âFrankââ You pant, eyes watery with unshed tears. âPleaseââ
His eyes flick up towards you at your pained tone, noticing the pillow youâd given him.
Heâs above you in an instant, one strong hand under your hip so he can slide the pillow beneath you. âSânot cuttinâ it, huh?â
You respond by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. âNeed you to fuck me.â Frank feels you punctuate your point when the back of your heels bump against his lower back, your legs wrapping around him and tugging him closer.
His own cock twitches at the obvious display of want. He loves it when you get so unashamedly needy, bordering on demanding. He wants it all, wants to be wanted in ways that match the intensity he feels inside, considers himself lucky to be craved as deeply as he craves the love of his life.
âIâm right here, sweetheart.â He coos, one hand guiding the head of his cock to notch against your entrance. âDeep breath in. Outâattagirl.â
Frank grunts as he pushes in. Breath catching at the way your warmth wraps around him, squeezing and urging him in deeper.
He takes his time bottoming out, partly wanting to reassure you that he truly didnât mind taking his time with you, with anything to do with his sweetheart.
He tunes in to your movements, how your palms are warm against the back of his neck, how your thighs bracket his waist, the bump of your heels against his tailbone. He listens to the sound of your breath as it catches, notices nothing but silence following after.
âDonât forget tâbreathe, sweetheart. Yeah?â
You exhale a breath you didnât realize you were holding. âYeahââ
Frank places his forehead against yours, one of his hands gently braced against the top of your head. He uses his other hand to support his weight against the bed as he pushes his hips into yours.
The eye contact is disarming, youâre tingly from need. You want more. Youâve been craving Frank inside you for a week at this point, and you were not going to let the night end without it.
The telltale hitch in your slow breathing, coupled with the way your walls clench around him lets Frank know heâs exactly where you need him to be.
âThere she is.â He coos, âKeep breathinâ, yeah? Iâll make it good fâr you.â
He tucks your hair under your head so it doesnât get pulled when he positions himself on his elbows on the space beside you.
âReady?â Frank presses his forehead against yours, gaze on the lookout for any sign of discomfort. Him telling you to focus on your breathing helps undo the crease between your drawn brows.
âYeah.â
âLeave it tâme.â He presses a kiss to your forehead as he starts a slow, sensual grind.
Your jaw goes slack on a silent moan, your loverâs weight a comforting thing over you as he drags the tip of his cock right at your sweet spot.
He does small half thrusts into you, groaning in between whispered praise.
Your eyes close, toes curling, drool threatening to slip out the corner of your mouth. âFrankâŠâ
âYeah? You okay, sweetheart?â Heâs panting a bit, muscles tense with restraint because you feel so fucking good but he knows exactly how much you need. The drag of your walls against his cock is searing hot, added to the fact that heâs been close to coming for hours.
He feels the hands on the nape of his neck pull him closer. Your eyes open, lips parted. âI love you.â
Frank will never get tired of hearing you say that. âI love you too.â He says your name, nudges his nose against yours before leaning in to kiss you. He shifts to move a bit more insistently, muffling your mewls as he does.
âMm!â
Your legs give out, feet planting themselves on the mattress as your thighs spread, urging Frank closer.
Before he could ask, youâre already telling him. âJust like that, Frankieââ
He follows a slow but insistent rhythm, unrelenting against your pleasure points. Electricity jolts across your limbs, followed by a deep warmth.
âYeah?â Frank groans, a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin as he continues his slow grind.
âYeahââ
Your lovemaking continues, the only sounds in the room being the shifting of the sheets and skin against skin, moans muffled into each others flesh. Itâs deceptively good, the kind that looks tender and gentle but is in no way less intense. Frank has never needed to make the bed creak to give you the orgasm of a lifetime.
Heâs mindful and attentive like that. Careful but never once lacking in passion. He has a habit of taking note of how you respond to touch, etching it into his memory, refining it each time he bathes in the satisfaction of making you orgasm.
Youâre moaning, Frank is so gentle but so precise itâs making your head spin. Each whimper you make against his shoulder makes Frankâs cock twitch inside you.
Heâs close. Has been. You are too judging by how wet you are, the sound of your slick as he drives his cock into you quiet but consistent.
âAttagirl, sweetheart. Let me have it, yeah? Let me feel you. Let go fâr me.â He pants, voice low and breathless. Your heads are buried in each otherâs shoulders, the way your bodies are pressed together makes it so warm in contrast to the AC (youâd be sleepy if not for how fucking intensely Frankâs pleasuring you).
One of Frankâs hands snakes its way to the back of your head, cupping, holding you close. He moans when he feels your nails scrape against his back.
Youâre so full, its all too much and just right at the same time. Drool slips past the corner of your mouth but youâre too fucked out to care.
You didnât even get to say you were coming before it happens. You feel your cunt clench, twitch, contract in pulses around Frankâs thick cock.
âThatâs itâthasâit. Yeah. Deep breaths.â Frank grunts, kissing your shoulder briefly. âGood girl, sweetheart.â
âFrank! Mmââ You canât help but whine, heels kicking against the sheets. Frank stays, keeps his tip right against your sweet spot as he rides his own climax.
âOh fuckââ Frankâs breathing heavily against your shoulder. Youâre still coming somehow, thighs trembling, mouth agape, eyes closed. Your hips twitch against your loversâ, his weight keeping you still, positioning him exactly where youâd feel it best.
You could cry from how satisfying the orgasm is. You probably already are, because Frankâs thumb is running along your suddenly damp cheek and heâs shushing you in that way he always does. The way youâve come to recognize as him not actually wanting you to quiet down, but as a soothing gesture from his own vocal ticks.
âLet it out, sweetheart. So good fâr meâŠâ Frank sounds spent. Itâs equal parts comforting and arousing and honestly pride inducing. Youâd have been able to savor these emotions more in the moment if you werenât so preoccupied with the way your clit twitches and your labia flutters around the base of Frankâs cock. âGoddamnââ
You have no idea how long itâs been. All you know is your cunt is sensitive. Youâre satisfied, but tired. You open your eyes and see Frankâs blurry visage looking down at you.
A hint of a smile appears on his face when you lean your cheek into his touch. His partial worries relieved.
âYou okay? Want me tâpull out?â He asks. âYâr cryin⊠I mightâve overdone it.â
You shake your head no. âSo goodâŠâ Your blinks are slow, groggy. You mirror his touch by cupping his cheek as well, your other hand falling to lay limply on the mattress.
Your cunt throbs again, overstimulated, and your brows draw. âOkay⊠maybe back up a bit.â
Frank chuckles, eases himself out a few inchesâ
âBut donât leaveââ
âSweetheart⊠gotta give her a rest, yâknow?â He shakes his head, leans down to kiss your forehead, idly tucking your sweaty bangs away from your face.
âNgh.â You pout. âDo it slow.â
âYeah.â He kisses you on the lips as he pulls out, suddenly disappearing from over you and spreading your legs to check for any damage.
Next thing you know, heâs parting the hair between your legs, nursing on your clit, swiping his tongue along your slit once, twice, before cupping his tongue under your nub and grinding slow.
âFrank!â You groan, an exasperated smile on your face. âAll that talk about giving her a break.â
âSorryââ He huffs, amused. Knows heâs a hypocrite. He leaves with one last sweet kiss to your pussy before pulling the blanket over both of your forms, letting you cuddle up into his side as he lays down for some much needed decompressing.
â
You were just about to fall asleep after answering no to Frankâs usual post-intimacy survey (âWasnât too rough? You sure? Hurtinâ anywhere?) when he shifts.
âAlright, câmonâ He pats your thigh affectionately, hands sliding under your hips to pull you up. âBathroom.â
âIâm sleepy.â You clearly have this disgruntled look on your face as Frank picks you up and carries you across the room.
âJusâ a couple more minutes, sweetheart.â He urges you to sit on the toilet to pee, leaves to give you your privacy. You vaguely hear the sound of your closet doors and drawers opening and closing.
Youâre done, washed up, now standing again before he he re-enters the bathroom to start up the shower.
âWeâre showering? Again?â Itâs clear youâre not too excited about the prospect.
âYouâll thank yârself tâmorrow.â Frank takes off his stained sweats, helps you slip out of your nightgown, then coaxes you under the spray of the water with him. âCâmon, sweetheart.â
This is how you find yourself clinging to Frank with nearly your entire weight. The wall too cold to lean your back on. He has one hand hiking one of your thighs by his hips, the other hand busying itself between your legs, fingering his come out of you.
âYou hurtinâ anywhere?â He asks, his own tired gaze trained on you, relieved when you shake your head no despite your displeased expression.
âFrankââ You whine, tired out of your mind. âIsnât leaving your come inside me the entire point of you getting that vasectomy?â
Frank chuckles, low and deep in his chest. Thereâs a tiny sense of pride in him at you letting out such a crude statement around him. âJust âcause I got snipped donât mean you wonât get a UTI âf we donât do this.â
Point. Of course he had a point. Frank always took clean up seriously, and him being so kindly and responsibly insistent about it wouldâve shot your arousal straight up had you been any less tired than you were right now. (Itâs equally why youâre so excited to have sex with the man. Itâs not over until heâs taken care of you the entire way and back.)
âMâtired.â You murmur again, pouting defeatedly. As nice as this all felt, youâve been wanting good, genuine sleep since last week.
âI know, sweetheart. Yâdid goodâŠâ He praises, slowly slipping his fingers out of you. âHold on tâme.â Youâre on wobbly legs, and he makes sure to steady you by the shoulders throughout the entire process of turning off the shower and towelling you and himself off.
You beeline for the bed while Frank chucks the rest of the discarded clothes from the bathroom floor into the laundry basket.
He notices, only after putting on new sweats, that the new shirt heâd left out for himself on the bed was now suspiciously absent. Meanwhile, the fresh nightgown heâd prepared for you was still there beside it.
The peek of dark fabric from under the blankets you had on you (as well as the satisfied smile on your face as you waited for his reaction) outlined the culprit to be none other than you.
He laughs quietly, shoulders shrugging, shaking his head as he returns the nightgown to your dresser, forgoing a shirt for himself. He climbs into bed with you and relishes in the way you immediately cling to him and squeeze his torso like heâs some sort of teddy bear won from the fair.
âGood night, sweetheart.â
âMm, night Frankie.â Your head is on his chest, soothed by the thrum of your loverâs heartbeat. You feel Frankâs fingers card through your hair before he caresses your upper back. âI love you so much.â
âI love you too.â Frank ends his sentence with your name, punctuates it with a kiss to your forehead, enamoured when you tilt your head up after to kiss his nose.
Youâre âfucked-out-of-your-mindâ fulfilled, while Frankâs âthank-you-for-letting-me-care-and-affect-you-this-deeplyâ fulfilled.
Itâs perfect. And now you finally, finally get to sleep with everything youâd wanted for tonight checked and accomplished despite the earlier phone call fiasco. Your eyes close. You take a deep breath.
Until Frank decides to get up out of bed. No words. So easily slipping away from your hold because you didnât think heâd get up.
âWhere are you going?â You sit up groggily, brows furrowed, frustration coming easily to you.
âGetâya some water.â
âOh.â Your expression returns to something less hostile. You were kind of thirsty now that you think of it, skin damp and cool but your body running warm. A little too warm.
You couldâve sworn you caught the slightest hint of a half-impish half-apologetic smile on Frankâs face as he left. If you were a bit more lucid youâd have noticed sooner that he laughed a bit at your frustrated question.
He comes back with one of your insulated tumblers and hands you the prized item.
The first sip of ice cold water that hits your tongue could rival the relief from your earlier orgasm.
The two of you take one or two turns sipping from the straw before Frankâs laying under the covers again (thanks to you practically pulling him into bed).
Settled into Frankâs bare chest once more, impressively fucked out of your wits, cared for after such a vulnerable set of hours, and hydrated with freshly prepared ice cold water, you finally close your eyes.
Frank noses along the top of your head, tucks your hair away from your forehead, leaves a kiss there once, twice, before he speaks.
âWant sausages with yâr pancakes tomorrow morninâ? Or bacon?â
No reply graces Frankâs ears save for one silent snore and the hum of the AC unit.
Youâre already fast asleep.
Heâs decided heâll make both with a side of eggsâbut judging by the weight of his own eyelids and how quickly you fell asleep, he wagers with a crooked smile and an amused breath that neither of you will be awake for breakfast tomorrow anyway.















