2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #15: Frankie Morales - A Kiss After Pain
If you remember last summer, I took prompt requests for a series of smooches. It never got finished, and I apologize for that ... but this one WAS finished and has been languishing in my google docs for almost a year.
What was the delay? I couldn't post it until the story reached the point where you knew Frankie's secret. But @the-blind-assassin-12 .... it's happening. And this one is all for you.
Word Count: 1,796 Rating: M, for implied sex and a lot of angst ... and some blood. Takes place between chapters 9 and 10 of Liminality.
In the short time you’d known him, you’d never seen Frankie as agitated as he was that afternoon.
You weren’t scared of him - you hadn’t ever been, even after finding out what he was. I should have been. It should have terrified me. But instead, you’d felt sympathy for the man - someone that hadn’t asked for what he was enduring, someone that took things seriously and tried his best to keep himself under control even when most other people in his position wouldn’t have been able to.
“Frankie, if there’s anything I can do, I need you to …” Shaking your head, you sighed. “I wish you’d just tell me.”
“You can control it.” He was running his fingers through his hair, the Standard Oil ballcap you’d grown used to discarded on his couch. “Not a hundred percent of the time, but enough. Enough that you don’t need to fucking …” He growled, spinning away from you and striding toward the back door, both hands balled up onto fists and hanging by his sides. He won’t change here. He won’t let himself get worked up enough, even though the moon’s only a couple days away. “You don’t have to fucking hurt people. You have enough goddamn control to…” He trailed off, rocking back and forth.
“Maybe you’re the exception.” Standing, you slowly crossed the room, stopping short of touching him, even though you wanted to. “Maybe not everyone has the self control you do, Frankie. Maybe you not knowing what you were capable of and being wary of it all helped and -”
“No.” It was close to a snarl, the sound low in his throat as he stiffened. Keep it together, Frankie. “I’m not fucking special. Even Ashley agreed with me about the control thing.” He lowered his head, taking a breath. “It’s easier when you’re born into it because you have help controlling the urges. But she said that her entire line - and everyone else they’ve ever come into contact with - have been able to control themselves even in the beginning.”
You shivered, crossing your arms over your chest. But why do these other wolves just want to kill? What is it about them that make them … “The Chaos line just wants attention, then. If they’re all aware that they’re hurting people, it’s by design.” He agreed with you, a humorless laugh at the end of it.
“I’ve worked so hard.” He turned to face you, a deep frown on his face. “So hard since it happened to control it. To control myself. I just want to live my goddamn life and not worry about someone knocking on my door one day and -”
“Someone like me, you mean.” Covering your mouth with one hand, you closed your eyes. “Because if I figured out that this isn’t gators or bobcats, then someone else will, too. I can’t be the only one looking.”
He nodded, eyes locked with yours. “And not everyone is like you. Not everyone would listen. People shoot first and ask questions later.” He glanced up, taking a long breath. “Like me and Redfly did in Colombia. Like the five of us did on so many missions. Like -”
“Hey.” You reached out then, laying a hand against the center of his chest. “You’re getting off topic here, Morales.” His heartbeat thumped against your palm, the man’s skin hot through the thin material of his t-shirt. “The next full moon, we’ll get him. You won’t have to worry about this asshole putting you in danger anymore.”
“You sound so sure.” He rolled his eyes, stepping away from you. “What if it doesn’t happen that way? What if he’s always a couple steps ahead of me? What if I can’t keep you or the guys from -”
“You know why I’m here, Frankie.” Chewing on your lower lip, you narrowed your eyes. “You know what I’m willing to give u -”
He cut you off when he raised a fist, slamming it into the tabletop with a crack of his knuckles.
You hissed in pain at the sound - and the sight - but Frankie didn’t even flinch, the man’s fingers flexing as he replied. “That’s not going to fucking happen.” He turned to face you again and you watched in horror as his bloodied knuckles dripped onto the tile floor. How is he not … that has to hurt. He - “I already put you in danger by not telling you right away. It’s not happening again. Not now, not -”
“Frankie, you’re bleeding.” Forcing yourself into motion, you moved past him and into the kitchen, grabbing a towel and turning on the hot water. “Your hand has to be broken, something cracked when you hit the table, and -”
“It was the table.” He was right behind you, the man’s voice low again as he leaned in to speak into your ear. “It does hurt, but it’s fine. It’ll heal. Give it a couple hours and it’ll be like nothing happened. Shit heals faster the closer it gets to the moon.” The table? He cracked the table? His left hand snaked around your waist and the right one came into view as he extended his fingers over the sink. “Just some bloody knuckles. Nowhere near the worst it’s been for me.”
You sighed as he spoke, a tiny smile creeping over your lips as he flattened his palm against your belly, pulling you back toward him. I know it isn’t. “At least let me clean them off for you. Can’t have you bleeding all over the place.” He nodded, chin resting on your shoulder - and you got to work.
You were gentle with his hand, guiding it under the trickle of water and letting it rinse the blood from his skin. The cuts were shallow - more bruises than anything else, but his knuckles were swollen, and you felt him wince when you used your thumb to rub antibacterial soap over them, ensuring that the area was clean. Not that it matters, according to him, but … still.
“You know I’d do whatever it took to keep you safe, right?” He kissed the side of your neck, lips lingering against your skin. “Not only do you know my secret, but you know about Colombia, too, so that makes you … one of us.” Your heart thumped at the label, even though it wasn’t new information. But…
“Hmm. With that, you’d think that maybe me not being around anymore would be a good thing. I’m a liability, Frankie. Not just to you guys, but to whoever the other person is, because … because I know what to look for. I know what to …” You trailed off when he reached for the taps, turning the water off and then urging you to spin and face him. “What?”
“It would not be a good thing.” He moved closer, pinning you between his body and the counter’s edge, the man’s gaze intense. “Not even close.” His nostrils flared as he contemplated his words - and yours - and when Frankie spoke again, you heard resolve in his voice, the man trailing one bruised knuckle over your cheek. “You might know what to look for and what to do when you find it, but I know what it feels like to be the thing you’re looking for. I know what happens when we’re not … us anymore. And I’m going to use that to hunt this motherfucker down.”
His eyes flashed gold as he spoke, Frankie’s handsome features turning sharp for a moment before they softened.
You still weren’t scared, but you did feel fear - not for you or for him, but for whoever was behind the attacks. Because he won’t give up. This isn’t just about keeping people safe, it’s about … him getting to live his life. It’s about getting to watch his daughter grow up and … “You are.” Nodding twice, you closed your eyes. “We are. And I’m going to help you as much as I can.” So that maybe I can finally live my life, too.
You took his wrist between your fingers and twisted it, finally breaking eye contact when you pressed your lips to his knuckles. You kissed each one in turn, and when you were done, you looked back up, not knowing what to expect.
But instead of uncertainty or unease, Frankie looked absolutely wrecked, the man’s lips parted and his brow furrowed, his eyes on your face. You didn’t know how he’d respond, but you didn’t expect him to nearly moan out your name, surging forward to kiss you without warning.
He ripped his wrist from your hold and used that hand to grip the back of your neck - not tightly but securely, his other hand sliding beneath your shirt and up the center of your back, the heat of his palm trailing like fire over your skin.
There was nothing hesitant about the kiss. Frankie didn’t hold back, and you would have been lying if you’d said that part of you wasn’t thrilled that you were able to get that kind of reaction out of him after only knowing him for a couple months. But who wouldn’t be? He’s…
He tugged on your lip with his teeth and then released it, running his nose alongside yours before he kissed you again, your mouth open and waiting, the point of his tongue meeting the flat of yours, almost daring you to challenge him further.
You did, one hand gripping his shirt and bunching the fabric of it against your palm as you moaned into his mouth, your other hand pushing on his hip and wordlessly urging him to back up so that you could follow.
He was dangerous and you knew it.
He’d been that way for years before Colombia, Frankie’s instincts and willingness to do what needed to be done allowing him and his friends to survive countless unthinkable situations. But he was also loyal to the people he cared about - and based on the things he’d said to you and the way he’d treated you since your first meeting, you’d worked yourself into that circle almost unwittingly. And that means everything.
He pulled back to breathe, pressing his forehead to yours and stroking over the line of your jaw with his thumb. “Frankie, you -”
“If I don’t let you go right now, I don’t know that I’m going to be able to. And I can’t… I can’t promise I’ll be able to rein myself in today.”
You made your choice - if there even was one to be made - in an instant, your grip on him tightening at the same time you inhaled sharply, the hand on his hip sliding back so that you could urge his lower body against yours.
“I don’t want you to. Ever.”
—
