Pittsburgh Zoo & Aquarium. You had blonde hair tied in a neat braid and wore glasses. You were with someone. Your sister? Your friend? Anyway, I first saw you in the penguin exhibit. It was pretty crowded, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t notice me. I had a very difficult time not staring at you, but I tried. You looked so awestruck by the way the penguins dove and shot out of the water like bullets. Every time they caught a fish mid-air, you clapped and bounced on the balls of your feet. I’ve never seen anyone with a smile like yours. Radiant. Truly, the definition of beaming from ear to ear. The entire room felt brighter from it. Your sister/friend kept tugging on your sleeve to take you to another exhibit, but I could tell all you wanted to do was stay and watch the penguins perform their tricks.
I’m a little ashamed to admit I may have followed you and your sister/friend from a distance for the rest of your time at the aquarium (your sister/friend’s pace was surprisingly brisk). I wanted to talk to you so badly, but didn’t want to bother you.
If you see this, I’ll be at the Highland Park fountain at 10 am on Saturday. I’ll be wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and a Penguins hat (get it??) I really hope to see you there.
The kitchen staff rushes to prepare dinner for the occupants of the Nassau Inn. Pots clang, voices yell orders, the fireplace roars. Despite the bitter cold outside, it is a sweatbox within. Trinity, one of the kitchen staff, wipes sweat from her brow after heaving a bag of flour onto the countertop when suddenly, the loud BANG of the back door being kicked down startles her. All focus turns to the entryway. As a gust of wind blows snow into the room, Melissa heaves the lifeless body of a man through the threshold.
“Somebody help me!” Melissa cries out, strained from dragging the body.
The staff rushes to help her carry the body to the fireplace. Meanwhile, Trinity slams the door shut behind him.
“Really, Melissa? I thought Samira forbade you from bringing dead bodies into the inn?” Trinity scoffs, kicking snow away from the door and rushing over to the hearth. She brings her hands up to her face and huffs hot air into them, rubbing them to retrieve any warmth she lost.
Meanwhile, Melissa pushes the nearly frozen hair out of the body’s lifeless face. His eyes are shut, his pale cheeks gaunt, and his full lips stained purple. All the telltale signs of being shuffled off from this mortal coil. Yet when she places two fingers to the pulse point of his neck, she feels the unmistakable, slow thrum of his heart.
“Actually, Samira forbade me from bringing body parts, not full bodies, into the inn. Besides, he’s not dead. His heart is still beating. I can save him yet,” she says, refusing to give up hope.
“You can save him? Maybe in your wildest dreams! You’re not a doctor, Melissa. You’re a laundry attendant,” Trinity sneers before returning to her work.
Melissa bites the inside of her cheek, holding back the choice words she’d like to throw at Trinity. True, she is not a licensed medical doctor; that profession is reserved for men and men alone. However, the hours she spent poring over medical journals in the King’s College library and analyzing the remains of dismembered soldiers would indicate otherwise. Now that opportunity knocks, Melissa is confident she can answer no matter what Trinity says. By her hand, this man will live; that much is certain.
388/462
Authors Note: I intend on, one day, turning this into a long fic, so any feedback on this little intro is appreciated.
Mel corners him at precisely 6:42 AM. Red Bull in hand, sweating and uncracked, crinkling beneath his tight grip from the way she pushes and pushes, until his shoulder blades thud against the wall and her minty breath fans up into his face in determined little puffs.
“What did that mean?” her voice, low and husky, carries an undercurrent of something sharper that Frank hasn’t had the pleasure of hearing.
He blinks at her. “What did what mean?”
Her brows pull together, lips tightening up. “Your text, last night,” she says, and moves closer, if that’s even possible. Until her chest brushes against his own and he becomes very aware of her breasts, held taut by a sports bra, thick straps barely visible on her shoulders beneath her plain t-shirt. “I sent you that picture of me at the bar, the one Samira took, and you said that you, quote, were “dying for a taste” and “ready to feast” .”
“Uh..” his jaw goes slack, utterly dumbfounded, now forced to face the consequences of his actions.
It was late, I was tired, I meant— no, he knew exactly what he was saying, that he’d been having heart palpitations over his coworker/best friend/trainee who was out drinking, looking all flushed like a spring cherry blossom and wearing a top that showed so much of what he never got to see at work. Or like, ever.
“I, um,” he swallows thickly, vision tunneled, not at all worried about anyone who may stumble upon them, solely focusing on Mel’s wiry lashes and frustrated, red tinted cheeks. “You looked.. really good. I was.. complimenting you.”
She isn’t convinced. “But that’s not what you said.”
“Right,” he’s a total fucking sleaze and here she is calling him out on it.
How truthful is he allowed to be right now? Can he say that he dreamt of her last night, with his back turned to his wife, and woke up with an insatiable urge so intense that it made him dizzy? Is he allowed to admit that he wished she’d called him for a ride home, and maybe let her hands wander during the drive? Invited him into her apartment, ignoring the evidence of a promise on his finger that he made to someone else? Can he?
The look on his face must say it all because Mel’s head tilts, and the left side of her mouth slowly turns up, satisfied.
“I see,” she says. “Did you mean it?”
“Yes,” he rasps with a weak, pitiful nod. “Yes, absolutely, yes. Of course—”
Her eyes brighten, twinkling beneath the fluorescents. “Oh, that’s so good to hear,” she says, earnest and soft. “So, you’ll come over tonight, right?”
It takes all of Frank’s strength not to sink to the floor, to nuzzle against her navel and fucking sob.
Her parting words solidify the bulge in his scrubs, dooming him to twelve hours of pure agony: “I think that outfit is much cuter in person anyway.”
Mel shifts in the grass, now lying on her side to face Frank. He’s still looking at the vast sky above them. Its splendor is so clearly mirrored in his blue eyes. Twinkling, glowing, endless. She wants to stay in this quiet moment for as long as possible. Just the two of them and the hum of the valley around them, teeming with all sorts of wildlife.
Like a soundtrack to a July she’ll never forget.
“You know, my Mom used to take Becca and me here when I was little. I used to bring this big book of constellations with me, and we’d read the stories of all the ones we could find in the sky,” she admits softly. The Cherry Spring State Park holds some of her dearest memories of her mother.
Frank immediately turns.
“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve gone somewhere new.”
Mel shakes her head no and takes Frank’s hand. She laces their fingers together and swears she can feel his heartbeat in his palm.
“This place is sacred to me and, well, it makes me happy to know it’s sacred for you too. I bet that’s why you wanted to take me here in the first place, yes?” Mel’s appreciative of the way Frank swallows and nods in agreement, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.
“You know me too well,” he chuckles in that boyish way that makes Mel’s heart swell—eyes bashfully cast downward with the smallest smile.
If she were braver, she’d pull him in for a kiss.
Instead, she asks, “Do you want to know what constellations are out tonight?” It’s not a kiss, but her own form of intimacy.
“Of course I do,” he says eagerly, “tell me about every single one.”
And as she recounts the tales of every star and constellation within the northern cross, time stands still like a photograph, as if this moment would last forever, just like she wanted. And looking into his eyes, she sees the rest of their life together. Laid out as clearly as the stars above them.
Frank’s bare knees were raw against the hardwood floor. His muscles ached and tingled all the way down to his toes, threatening to fall asleep from being folded for so long. If he were to stand, he’d definitely topple over again. Despite this discomfort, he obediently waited for Mel’s next command.
Across the room, Mel sat on the edge of her bed, stark naked and playing with herself. Looking like a wet dream incarnate, her whimpers and the sounds of deft fingers slipping in and out of her made Frank’s cock bob in anticipation. It drooled for the meal she denied him. He wanted to crawl over and have a taste, savor her sharp flavor and—
“Frank…come,” she murmured, half delirious from her own ministrations.
Frank’s stomach lurched as he sprang into action, scampering over on all fours to finally have her. The burn in his knees be damned, he wanted to devour her.
“Frank, heel!” Mel commanded just before he could grab her by the thighs and pull her to his face and bury it in her sweet, dripping cunt.
Frank whined, embarrassingly so, but still obeyed.
“Good boys show restraint, yes?” She said and brought her hand to run through his hair before tugging at the root.
“Yes,” Frank whimpered, desperately trying to ignore how each tug sent shockwaves down his spine, right to his swollen cock.
“That’s right,” Mel cooed sweetly, “you’re so smart, so good. You can have a taste if you go slow. Can you do that, Frank?” She let her hand trail down the side of his face and settled to hold his flushed cheek.
Frank nuzzled into the touch, playing the role of an obedient dog perfectly, said “Yes, Mel,” before kissing her trembling thighs as a thank you for her generosity.
He’d have his fair share of her arousal soon enough.
If there’s an opportunity for Frank to spend uninterrupted time with Mel, he will always take it. So when he sees her name on the volunteer list to aid the EMS at the annual Anthrocon Parade, he immediately signs up.
How bad could it be? All they’ll have to do is stand by the ambulance and make sure no one in one of those crazy mascot costumes passes out from heat stroke.
“Should we wear animal ears in solidarity?” Frank asks her with a smirk and eyebrow waggle when he informs her he’ll be her volunteer buddy.
Mel blushes and giggles along with him.
“I was actually thinking about wearing this pair of bunny ears Becca got at the Renaissance Faire the last time we went. There was this booth selling all kinds of ears and horns, and she collects—“
Frank knows Mel is rattling a story off about how her sister acquired the ears, but he can only hear static. All his brain can process is the image of Mel, looking cute as ever, wearing a pair of fluffy bunny ears.
“Are you okay, Frank?” Mel asks, narrowing her eyes and waving a hand in front of his face.
Frank blinks and shivers, shaking himself out of his daydream of bunny girl Mel.
“Uh, yeah, I’m all ears—I mean, good! I’m all good!” He stumbles on his words in a way that makes Mel giggle again.
“I see, you don’t want to be left out. Don’t worry, I’ll see if Becca will let you borrow a pair.”
So true to her word, two weeks later, they survey the parade from the sidelines. Ready to leap into action in case of an emergency, clad in grey bunny ears for Mel and fox ears for Frank.
When Mel steps out onto the stage, the crowd erupts in applause. She makes a b-line to the podium and grasps its sides tight as if it were life-raft. There’s a part of her that wishes they would all stop clapping. She is just presenting her portion of the research, nothing too extraordinary. If anything, the clapping only serves to deepen the pit in her stomach.
Relax, you’re going to be fine, Frank’s soothing voice whispers in her memory.
Mel swallows and tries to search for his familiar face. The lights are far too bright to see anyone in the crowd, and the glare coming from her glasses further distorts her already wavering vision.
“Uhm…” Sharp feedback from the microphone and speakers practically stabs her eardrums and makes her wince.
Panic sets in far too quickly. Her heart races, her temperature rises, the heat of LEDs burn and prickle her skin. She can feel sweat in every crevice of her body, especially under her armpits.
“Mel!” a familiar voice hisses from off stage. She snaps her attention towards it and finds the man she’s looking for. Frank is right there, giving her an encouraging thumbs up. Understanding blue eyes, a warm smile that stretches from ear to ear, he has no idea what this does for her. It immediately eases any worry or fear she had.
Frank is her rock, and with him by her side, she can do anything.
“Alright, we’re all done!” Mel held up the hand mirror to Penny’s face, eager to hear her thoughts. Mel would be the first to admit her face-painting skills were a bit rusty. It’d been ages since she painted a face, let alone held a paintbrush. Yet she was pretty proud of her handiwork. Pink and blue butterfly wings, dusted with iridescent glitter, covered her eyes and round cheeks. The butterfly’s curly-cue antennae almost made a heart in the middle of Penny’s forehead, and it was actually symmetrical! Penny’s deep blue eyes began to sparkle just as vibrantly as the glitter on her face. “Whoa! It’s pretty! I love it, Miss Mel!” She leapt into Mel’s arms for a hug, nearly knocking her down and smudging the paint. “Easy there!” Mel giggled, hugging Penny tight before settling her into her lap. Mel always enjoyed spending time with children, especially Frank’s little darlings. Being with them was always so enjoyable, whether it was making pillow forts in Frank’s apartment on a rainy afternoon or playing in the park with Becca on her days off. Her cup overflowed with love and appreciation for Frank for even allowing her to be this close with his children, and she’d be lying if she said holding Penny like this didn’t make her long for children of her own. “We don’t want to mess it up before your Dad can see,” she said and booped Penny on her nose with her index finger. Penny enthusiastically nodded, grinning from ear to ear. She wriggled out of Mel’s arms and rushed over towards Frank, who was waiting in the queue for the ring toss with Tanner across the fairground. Mel could just barely make out her frantic calls. “Daddy! Daddy! Lookie!” Frank hoisted Penny into the air, catching her and planting a loud raspberry on the edge of her painted cheek as she screamed with joy. Penny said something to her father and then pointed in Mel’s direction. When Frank’s appreciative gaze met Mel’s, her heart squeezed in her chest. “Thanks, Mel! Looks great!” He called out with his free hand cupped around his mouth. “Anytime!” Mel yelled back and meant it. Any time he wanted, Mel would be there for him and his kids. 376/227
Frank swallows, and the thick lump in his throat crash lands in his stomach. Before him stands Melissa King, golden hair down and dressed only in a delicate, cream colored silk slip. In the warm, low light of her bedroom, the fabric’s luminous shine makes her glow in turn. Yet, were it not for the wine colored blush that spreads from her cheeks all the way down to her chest, it’s nearly impossible for Frank to distinguish where the garment ends and her soft skin begins. Best of all, it hugs her figure in all the right places and is thin enough to reveal the stiff peaks of her tempting nipples.
“I know it’s not much…” Mel mumbles, biting her lip, refusing to look Frank in the eye. She fidgets with the thin strap that can’t seem to find purchase on her shoulder.
If Frank weren’t so taken by how absolutely breathtaking she looks, he would scold her. How can she not see how truly beautiful she is? Is it not apparent in his face? In the way he pushes her golden strands behind her ear? In the way he gently takes her chin between his forefinger and thumb and directs her gaze towards his own?
“It’s perfect, Mel. You’re perfect,” he says, unwavering.
Mel’s eyes widen, dark pupils overtaking hazel.
“Do you mean it?” she asks, trepidation apparent in the way her voice wavers.
Frank doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he gently guides Mel’s lips towards his own and kisses her. He pours every bit of his unspoken love into it—cupping her face and rubbing comforting circles into her flushed cheeks.
And when Frank feels her hands take hold of his wrists and hears a high-pitched whimper, he knows she finally understands.
“Do you think this is too much?” Frank asks, wiping from his cheeks and replacing them with smears of frosting.
Mel inspects the cake. It’s...interesting. She’s unsure how, but the three tiers of Penny’s birthday cake somehow folded into a lopsided two. The frosting, which Frank applied far too early, is halfway melted off the cake. The pink and blues of the frosting make this sickly pale purple that threatens to dribble off the cake stand. The text that’s supposed to say “Happy 3rd Birthday Penny” leaves much to be desired. Frank might have a steady hand in the operating room, but when executing frosting calligraphy…
The only thing that still seems to be intact is the pristine fondant unicorn Mel crafted while Frank was working on the cake itself. It looks so out of place, so unbelievably ridiculous, Mel bursts out into full-bellied laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Frank asked with a raised eyebrow and frosting-coated hands on his hips, ruining his pants without him even realizing. There’s an incredulous edge to his voice that makes Mel guffaw even harder.
“Maybe we should get a sheet cake from Giant Eagle instead?” Mel offers, barely able to get the words out in between her laughter.
Despite Frank’s displeased expression, he acquiesces and says, “I’ll go grab the car keys.”
@kingdonmicrofic day 11: surprise (391/186) mild nsfw warning
“No fuckin’ way.”
She hadn’t meant to keep it from him. In fact, there is very little now that Frank doesn’t know about her, thanks to the compulsive urge to tell him everything and his compulsive urge to ask. He started getting nosy far before anything happened between them, wanting to know what movies she liked (Waitress and Indiana Jones), the music she listened to (90’s Hip-Hop), and her favorite snacks so he could keep extra in his locker (chocolate chip granola bars).
By the time they finally slept together, frenzied on her couch in the late afternoon, he could’ve written a novel filled with all of her quirks and habits, what made her laugh or wrinkle her nose. And after that first time, when Frank proceeded to stay at her apartment the whole weekend, fucking her into her mattress, cooking for her in the cramped kitchen, Mel knew he was hers completely.
“Mel, baby,” his voice is choked.
“I just never found an opportunity to mention it. I promise, Frank, I didn’t mean to keep it from you!” Mel’s tone is placating but not wholly serious, as she knows he is far from angry – shell-shocked, if anything. She wiggles a little in place, settling herself more comfortably across his legs.
“When did you–”
“After my mom died.” It’s a little silly to talk about while she’s ass-up on her boyfriend’s lap, but she presses on, giving him the CliffsNotes. “She had a thing about good luck charms. There were horseshoes all around the house, that and rabbit’s feet – Becca liked those. My uncle kept horses, too. We would visit his barn in the summer and ride them.”
“Just like your earrings,” he mumbles, and that makes her feel warm down to her toes. And then, finally, he’s touching her again, running his fingers delicately over the tattoo on her lower back, her small and dainty horseshoe. “It’s–” a pause as he palms her ass and squeezes, making her squeak. “It’s really sexy, Mel.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Frank exhales, long and slow, moving to pull her panties down the rest of the way. He flings them unceremoniously to the other side of her bedroom, and they catch on the corner of her dresser, hanging. Before Mel can laugh, his large hand is between her legs.
Mel/Frank | E | 4k+ | PWP + INFIDELITY
“You can’t learn if you just keep staring at me, Dr. King,” he said, his voice husky, “we’ve been over this so many times.”
If Mel didn’t know any better she would think he was flirting with her. But there was no way. Especially not now, with a photo from his and Abby’s wedding staring down at them from its place on the wall above his headboard.
Still, Mel couldn’t fight the crimson blush spreading over her cheeks, his words lighting the match that started the wildfire between her thighs.
“Sorry,” she whispered, wiping her hands down her face.
“It’s okay,” he assured her with a low chuckle, reaching behind his head to grab her hands, the warmth of his seeping through her skin. “Honestly, I’m flattered.”
{or}
Frank finally teaches Mel how to do the closed uni-facet cervical reduction.Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Infidelity, Abby Langdon and Frank Langdon's Failmarriage, Frank Langdon is Down Bad for Melissa "Mel" King, Melissa "Mel" King is Down Bad for Frank Langdon, You Can't Spell Cheater Without Eater, Frank Langdon is a Munch, Frank Langdon is Such a Good Teacher, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Finger Sucking, Frank Langdon is a Tits Man, Neck Kissing, His Wife Calls, Kingdon Creampie!, Frank Langdon's Fuck-Ass Wedding Ring, He is Genuinely So Down Bad, Like pathetically, Oral Sex, Cheating, Author abuses italics
The first time Mel sees Frank Langdon smoke, she bites the inside of her cheek and holds back a scold that is on the tip of her tongue.
Everyone knows doctors smoke for the same reason line cooks smoke. With long and grueling hours and a high-stress work environment, nicotine is guaranteed to mellow it all out. They can slip out easily, discreetly, for a few minutes and return ready to jump back into the fray.
Faint traces of menthol always linger on Frank Langdon’s skin. This faint, yet crisp spice that Mel, for whatever reason, never wanted to acknowledge, despite it being hard to ignore whenever they happened to be working in close proximity. She always chalked it up to the AA meetings. Lots of former addicts find themselves smoking to quell unwanted urges. When she’s at her most wicked and bitter, she blames it on Abby. She usually imagines Abby as one of those rail-thin, yet effortlessly beautiful, women with a lit Marlboro between her index and middle finger.
But no, it’s Frank. Frank Langon is the one who puts harmful chemicals in his body. Rots his teeth and coats the inside of his lungs with tar, toxic gases, and carcinogens.
He’s killing himself, she thinks bitterly. How could he do this to himself, to his family?
So why, then, does Mel wish she were the cigarette between his lips? Smoking has always been a red flag for Mel. An immediate hard pass and turn off. Frank Langdon shouldn’t change that. But he does, he absolutely does. . He looks so cool when he takes a long drag and sighs deeply as the smoke rushes out from his nose. She could learn to live with the stale smell of tobacco, maybe even love it if it’s what he wants.
