the melting point {chapter 4}
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)
Summary: Frankie finds out what you’re like in your own element, spending the evening with you in the bakery.
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: mutual attraction, blurring of friendly lines, ptsd, kissing
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist
“You’ve got a little…” You brought up a hand and motioned to his face, resisting the urge to brush your hand across his cheek where the smear of flour had made itself at home. Some of it was in his wispy, but tidy facial hair as well, hiding well in the graying whiskers he kept. Frankie looked up from where he was carefully placing the swirled dough onto a sheet pan, his eyes meeting yours.
You had been watching him, his concentration endearing as he focused on the task at hand. He was good at following your gentle instructions on mixing the butter and sugar and cinnamon together in the bowl smoothly. It had turned out so well done you were a little convinced he had been lying to you about him not knowing his way around a kitchen much. But his soft smile at your praise had convinced you he wasn’t pulling your leg, he had just genuinely wanted to do right by your instructions. He was smeared with flour here and there on his simple black tee and faded jeans, work boots heavy on his feet.
“Hand’s are a little tied.” He kept your gaze, watching the way you were placing an already laden tray in the oven. He had ten more cookies to transfer, you had already begun to clean up the counter you had used. You closed the oven and stepped over to him, your hands gentle as you reached out and cradled the left side of his face and tilted it toward you. Your other hand came up to gently brush the flour from his skin, the feeling of his facial hair on your skin electrifying.
“There, all better.” You didn’t take your hands from the gentle hold. He was a little bent over the counter, not wanting to drop the dough and ruin one of the cinnamon swirl cookies you had both been working on the last hour. The sun had set, leaving only the warm light of the bulbs overhead. His eyeline was even with yours and he could see the way your pulse jumped in your throat as his tongue flicked out over his bottom lip, tasting a bit of the sugary mixture from when he had sampled it. He took in the way your pupils dilated at the flash of pink.
He found himself rolling forward, into your space even more than you had initiated. He reveled in the sound of hitching breath, though he wasn’t sure if it was yours or his own. His hands found themselves tangled in the loose bun that had begun to unravel as you two worked and he closed the gap, his lips finding your own so easily as you met him halfway.
Pleasure jolted through your bodies at the contact, the sweetness of the dough allowing for an even more extraordinary taste as you opened your mouth for his tongue to explore. A small groan sounded in your throat and your hands trailed down his neck, feeling the working muscles of it before hooking around it. He lowered his hands too, feeling his way down your shoulders, down the small of your back and resting them on the flare of your hips, gripping there tightly and pulling you flush against him.
His body was warm against you, his hands sure and confident as they held you to him. You broke away with a moan as the tips of his fingers reached beneath the hem of your tank top to meet the soft skin of your waist. You were panting slightly as you looked at him, your eyes wide and blown in pleasure. He’s sure he looked much the same, he felt like his whole body was on fire, jolts of pleasure and heat lacing through him as he felt the soft give of your chest pushed up against his own. He wanted nothing more than to pick you up, set you up on the counter and kiss all the way down your body to taste you at your core. With the way you were holding onto him, he was sure you were just as willing.
“As much as I want to keep this going, the sensible part of my mind is yelling about the damn cookies.”
He huffed a laugh, the sound deep and alluring as you felt it in his chest.
“Then let’s get them finished.”
-
“Can I kiss you again?” Frankie asked as he took off his worn baseball cap on the arm of the couch. You both had come up here to enjoy the fruits of your labor, a few of the cookies were left on a small plate on the coffee table in front of you. Two empty glasses that had held whiskey were next to it. You both had just been talking, spending time getting to know the basics of each other over the cookies.
You were curled up in the corner of the couch that faced the tv along the wall where the staircase branched down into the rest of the building. You looked up from where you had been messing with your phone, turning it on silent in the wake of a small conversation with Taylor. He was insistent on flying out there after work, the time difference allowing him to still leave before the end of the day. You put it down atop the coffee table and turned your attention to the man leaning heavily into the back of the couch, his legs long and spread out before him, his boots over on the shoe rack. You nodded as you pushed yourself up and gently nudged the side of one of his legs.
He looked confused for a second before you spoke, “Frankie, I want to sit on your lap and kiss you until the sun comes up.”
He quickly brought his thighs together and reached out to gently grasp one of your hands to help steady you while the other used his shoulder for leverage. You shuffled over and closed the space, swinging a leg up and over him to settle right over his lap. Your knees knocked into his hips as you settled down without preamble, bringing your hands up to his neck and leaning down to bring your lips to his.
His hands settled on your hips tightly, his fingers digging into the thin fabric of the black sleep shorts you had settled into once coming up. They showed off the tattoos you had there too, and he wanted to explore those more than the ones on your arms. His nose bumped yours as he pulled back, eyes searching for your own.
“I don’t want to push you, okay? You tell me when or what is too much, please. Your week has been a lot and as much as I want to show you just how much I like you, I don’t want to move too fast.”
“You’re too sweet, carino.” You whispered against his lips, hands moving down to caress his shoulders.
“But thank you, really. I just…I kinda like you and wanna see where this goes beyond today?” You could feel the blush rise on your face, cheeks hot and your heart fluttered in your chest at his words. You hadn’t known what would happen all those hours ago opening the bakery door.
“I’d be up for that, because I kinda like ya too.” His eyes were so soft and focused on you, only you. “Just want to make sure we’re okay, every step okay? For you too.” You brought your lips down to meet his, warmth flooding your body at the way his hands caressed your waist through the fabric of your loose shirt.
-
A loud crash sounded and had you both jolting up from the couch where you had sleepily cuddled together, the tiredness of the day too much for either of you to fight off the feeling of cozy comfortability you two found in each other. The television was playing quietly across the room, you two having laid down to watch something when the easy conversation had turned into long comfortable silences enjoying each other’s company. He hadn’t wanted to go and you hadn’t asked him to.
The sound of little feet scurried across the open space and toward the bedroom. Your breath was coming in fast, your chest heaving with the effort it took to calm down. You looked over to the shoe rack, seeing one of Frankie’s boots teetering on the edge of the first stair, the other must’ve been what made the loud sound.
“I’m so sorry, they kinda have a thing for shoes.” You turned to face him, seeing him just as shook as you had felt. His eyes were wild, but they were calming down at the lack of an actual threat. You were watching the way his shoulders heaved, the way his hands were twitching at his sides. The tension in the air seemed stifling as he took in the way one of your shoulder straps had fallen and your shorts were slung low on your hips from sleep. In two strides you were closing the distance and crashing your lips together.
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