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Frank Langdon had no idea whether what happened in Vegas did or did not, in fact, stay there. He had no idea what happened there, period, because he’d never been.
He’d managed to avoid the place for thirty-four years, at first because he was too broke to go on his premed frat’s annual spring break blowout trip, then too busy to jet off to yet another bachelor party for yet another dopey kid he knew in high school. Frankly, he didn’t think he was missing out on much. He was pretty confident he’d made enough substance-fueled bad decisions for one lifetime, and besides, he got his masculine gambling fix from the never-ending parade of betting pools that cycled through the PTMC.
Not to brag, but he had even been the subject of a few of them himself, ranging from such flattering topics: how long it would take before his wife left his ass (Princess took home the pot), how long before Robby started talking to him like a normal human being again (Ogilvie, of all people, somehow guessed that one right. Jesus. How bleak), and how long it would take for him to man the fuck up and tell his best friend how he felt about her (Frank had won that one. Big time).
Okay, the last one was a bet he’d made with himself, but he wouldn’t put it past the all-seeing eye of the Pit-opticon to put money on just how much of a lovelorn idiot he was.
Whatever. He hoped at least some underpaid RN had made a boatload off his personal failures. God knows he was still paying for them.
No, Frank wasn’t a gambling man. Up until recently, he would never have described himself as “feeling lucky.” So what were the odds he’d end up here, rutting up against Mel King on her couch and meditatively tracing her hipbone with his thumb as she dipped her tongue into his wanting mouth? Those Vegas dealers would have said slim to none. But what the hell did they know? They could stay in Vegas as far as he cared and go kick rocks while they were at it.
Frank’s thoughts were a constant ecstatic stream of MelMelMelMelMel, as she ground down on him. She smelled like late summer and the special body wash she used for sensitive skin. God, he couldn’t get enough of it. He wished he could crawl inside her skin and live there. Or maybe just shrink himself down and live in her shampoo bottle. Yeah, he’d be happy with that too. His impatient fingers were finally breaching the elastic band of her underwear when she tensed in his lap—
“Wait,” Mel gasped, sounding pained.
Frank froze. He immediately pulled away to study her face. “What’s wrong? Did I—?”
“No!” Mel groaned. “No, you didn’t do anything. It’s just—ugh.” She pressed the backs of her hands to the sides of her neck, a tell that Frank knew meant she was absolutely mortified.
Frank braced himself, preparing for the worst. Maybe he had hurt her somehow. Maybe she realized she wasn’t into him anymore. She’d probably decided getting involved with him was a huge mistake and wanted to take it all back.
Well, he’d had a pretty good life.
“I can only fit one finger,” she said in a small voice.
Frank felt like a shaken-up Etch A Sketch. “What do you mean?” he said after a beat. Jesus, he hoped he didn’t sound as stupid and horned up as he felt.
Mel beat her fists softly against his chest. “I’ve tried!” she huffed, “Every time I masturbate, I try to fit in two fingers, but it’s no use—I always tense up,” she explained miserably. “It just doesn’t work, Frank. We can’t have sex. I’m sorry.”
Frank breathed a sigh of relief. As long as she wasn’t sick of him yet, he could work with this.
“Hey,” he said, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "Don't apologize.” He dropped a curious glance down to her clothed center, which was still precariously perched on top of his erection. He tested the waistband again. “Can I…?”
“See for yourself,” Mel grumbled and dropped her head on his shoulder.
He slipped his index finger into her favorite pair of blue cotton panties, temptingly damp after all their heavy petting. He lightly dragged it through her folds. Well, she was definitely wet enough, that certainly wasn’t the problem. He teased her soaked rim in hypnotic circles, getting distracted by how thoroughly her cunt coated his finger. Mel squirmed in his lap.
Focus, Langdon.
He stopped playing around and inserted the finger just past her rim. It was tight, even around just one of his fingers. He tried going deeper inside, and her body welcomed the intrusion without protest. That was a good sign. Then he tried moving it from side to side and Mel yelped in pain.
Frank gingerly took the finger out and popped it in his mouth, thoughtfully sucking the remnants of her arousal off the digit.
“Mel, have you been to a gynecologist?”
“Of course,” Mel said, with a low whine.
“They diagnosed me with vaginismus at my last check-up, but I thought it was irrelevant, because, at the time, I wasn’t having sex or planning on having it any time soon,” she rambled, face red, “so I just ignored it and gave myself orgasms by means of clitoral stimulation, which are the easiest to achieve anyway. I didn’t see the point in trying to… stretch myself with tools or anything, god, this is so embarrassing—”
“Breathe, Mel,” Frank directed, interrupting her shame spiral. He fixed her glasses and then made her look at him with a firm but gentle hand on each side of her face.
"There's nothing embarrassing about anything you just told me. Your body's just a little tense, that's all. But...," he paused, trying to figure out how to say the next part without sounding like an absolute Dead Ringers style pervert. "I can try to help. If you want," he offered, raising an eyebrow. He was pretty sure he'd never seen Jeremy Irons raise his eyebrow like that.
Mel considered it for a second. Then she slowly shook her head.
"Thank you, but-not today," she said. "I want you to eventually, of course, but, um, I think I'm way too self conscious right now. Can we just keep going like this?" she murmured, bracing her hands on his shoulders and rolling her hips against his once, experimentally.
Frank pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Darlin', the pleasure's all mine," he said and then got right back to it, meeting her hips with his at every roll.
Her mouth was on his again, and everything was right in the world. Outside the window, the sun was setting. It was a particularly orange one tonight. Frank liked those. And the friction between their bodies was fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that he proceeded to come in his pants like a teenager after just 10 more minutes of over-the-clothes grinding.
Oh, well. He'd been alone with his hand for the past year. If Mel judged him for it, she didn't let him know.
The next time they tried, they were fogging up the windows of his car. They had picked a deserted enough parking lot to neck in after going to see Focker-In-Law, which was, apparently, an aphrodisiac. He hoped it won Best Picture.
Even aside from the choice of location, Frank felt like he got transported right back to high school, because the act of making out was, once again, an honest to god revelation. As long as Mel's tongue was licking into his mouth and she was making those little low grunts of pleasure, he could have been satisfied with not going any further, but, because it was them, the kisses inevitably got hot and heavy pretty quickly. It didn't take long for Mel's hand to find its way to his groin, which was half-hard under her touch.
"Go ahead," Frank mumbled eagerly against her mouth.
She fumbled with his zipper for a couple moments until finally freeing his cock from both his pants and his boxers.
"Oh, jeez. It's big. I didn't-Okay," Mel stuttered out her wide-eyed appraisal.
He knew he was a little larger than average, but Mel's reaction made him feel like he was King Kong after scaling all the way to the top of the Empire State building.
"Way to give a guy an ego, Mel," Frank said, smiling into another kiss, but she tore her lips away from his, giving her full undivided attention to the task at hand.
She took a deep shuddering breath.
"Okay, so," she started, scrunching up her nose, “l've never done this before. Except on a priapism, kinda, but obviously that doesn't count. Oh god, why did I say that?" she said under her breath. "So, um. Can you show me how to do it right? Please?"
Je-sus. Her hands were folded politely in her lap, and she was looking up at him with that vulnerable yet determined expression that she still treated him to at work sometimes, when he got lucky. It was a look that communicated one thing to his caveman brain: I need you.
His pulse quickened. His stomach swooped. Then, to his abject horror, he went soft.
"Shit.”
Mel glanced down, curiously.
"Oh," she murmured.
Frank was going to kill himself.
"Fuck, sorry, this is so embarrassing," he sputtered, shamefully tucking himself back into his pants, "but, uh, since I got sober, there have been times when it's been really hard to-well, no, actually, it's the opposite. It's not hard. That's why it's—nevermind."
Frank was all over the place. Why couldn't he get a single coherent sentence out? His voice sounded so weird in the car acoustics. Oh god, was that just what his voice sounded like?
He mussed up his hair and started over.
"Sometimes I can't get it up," Frank said candidly. "Or l'll randomly go soft. It's a problem that started in rehab, but it still happens every once in a while."
Only it's never ruined my fucking life like this before.
"But it's not about you, Mel. At all. I think, well. I think I'm just a little nervous," Frank admitted, a blush probably tinting his cheeks.
He averted his gaze from the headrest in front of him that he'd been delivering his confession to and finally looked Mel in the eye. Her expression didn't betray anything besides affection with a touch of concern, and maybe a little disappointment. Frank supposed it could have been worse.
"It's okay, Frank," she said. "I totally get it. Next time," she promised with a sweet grin and touch of his hand.
Her smile quickly transformed into a moan as he pressed her prone against the backseat and successfully fingered a breathy orgasm out of her with a single probing digit (apparently, he could go as deep inside her as he wanted, she just wasn't ready to accommodate girth yet. So. He'd count his blessings), and, obviously, a laser focus on her clit.
He guessed he'd learned a few things since high school.
"Ow, ow, ow!" Mel sharply sucked in a breath.
"Sorry, baby," Frank said, flinging strands of hair out of his eyes. "Looks like we're not ready for that one yet." He slowly pulled the 1.2 inch wide dilator out of Mel. "No sweat, I'll go back to the smaller one."
Mel was splayed out on her bed, hair loose, wearing nothing but Frank's old UVA t-shirt and a pair of striped crew socks. And her glasses, of course. Her legs were propped up and spread like she was undergoing a pelvic exam. It did sort of weirdly feel like a house call, Frank realized, if it didn't break about a thousand medical codes of ethics for pelvic exams to be this unspeakably erotic.
Frank had been working Mel open all evening with a variety of different sized (and colored!) dilators she'd gotten from Dr. York in gynecology. It was hot, for sure, but watching her organ expand and contract around each new object that Frank introduced was also oddly stimulating on a nonsexual level, like trying to put a thousand piece puzzle together. Granted, a very sexy thousand piece puzzle of, like, a boob or something.
He smothered the purple .75 dilator in lube and slid it back into her hole. It was snug but not tight.
"How does that feel?" he asked, keeping an eye on the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
"Good," Mel sighed, her voice sounding only slightly strained, "Better."
"Just breathe. That's all you have to do."
Frank pushed the dilator in deeper. With his ring finger, he massaged the taut muscle of her rim alongside the tool.
Mel puffed out a little surprised exhale. "Can you say sexy things to me? So that I'll get aroused?"
"Of course," Frank promised quickly. He racked his brain for something to say that would turn Mel on.
"Uhhh…"
His mind was absolutely fucking blank. All of the filthy thoughts that he'd been having about her on a near-daily basis since July were suddenly nowhere to be found. What. The. Fuck.
"Langdon?"
"I'm thinking."
Mel propped herself up on her elbows so she could peer over at him. "Maybe you could say something along the lines of how I'm your patient and you're my doctor treating me?" she offered.
"But, you know. Sexually," she amended.
That startled a laugh out of him. "Dr. King, whatever happened to separating church and state?"
He did not want to be thinking about the hospital right now, but he did appreciate a little direction…
He cleared his throat and tried to get into character. Was it considered a character if that was also his real life job? Whatever, not important.
"What we've got here is a very simple procedure," Frank started, exaggerating his doctor voice until it was a little more Grey's Anatomy, a little less PTMC.
"First, I'm going to get to work on stretching out your cunt with this .75 inch wide dilator," he said, slowly pumping the tool inside, "so that one day you can take my cock all the way inside you too."
Watching the purple dilator go in and out of her was hypnotizing; he was trying very hard not to salivate. After all, he was a professional.
Mel whimpered in response. Okay, the porn-doctor shtick seemed to be working.
"Don't worry," Frank said with a touch of smugness, "I'll make it fit. Fuck, I know you'll take me so good."
"So well," Mel corrected shakily.
Frank faltered for a moment. "So well, Melissa, you'll take my cock so well," he said, rolling his eyes. "Are you really being the grammar police with me right now?
In revenge, he pushed the dilator in even further and slipped in his whole ring finger alongside it. Mel gasped, but her body stretched to accommodate him.
"Ah, sorry," she said with a sheepish giggle, "I like it when you, mmm, when you talk like that though."
He pressed his thumb firmly on her clit. "Like what?"
Mel clenched around the dilator. "When you, agh, when you say those words," she tried vaguely.
Oh. Cute.
"Grammar police?" Frank asked just to be a shithead.
"No," she moaned, "Cock... and - and pussy."
Her face went beet red as her soft, low voice stumbled over the expletives. Frank was terribly endeared.
"Oh yeah?" Frank smirked. He draped his body over hers so he could talk right in her ear like he was telling her a secret. "You don't let me use four letter words in Scrabble, because they 'don't count’, but apparently that's all it takes to get that tight little pussy soaking wet for me?"
He massaged her pink, swollen clit with unforgiving vigor. Her eyes fluttered shut as she fisted the sheets in her slender fingers. Beautiful.
"Mmhm."
"I can't wait to get my cock inside you," Frank said through gritted teeth, his erection rocking against her thigh, "You know what I think, baby?"
"Wh-What?" Mel choked out.
"I think we're gonna be a perfect fit."
Mel threw her arms around his neck and whimpered. His hand was starting to cramp from the awkward position, but he kept his finger and his thumb right on target until she clenched and leaked around him. He needed it on his tongue. He leaned down to eagerly lick her up, endlessly fascinated by the way her body responded to him.
"Okay, Miss King," Frank said, wiping his mouth with the satisfaction of a skilled physician, "I think we can move on to the next stage of treatment."
If there was one thing Frank would change about Mel, it would be her aversion to oral sex.
Receiving, not giving. He wasn't a total sleazebag.
It would make his life so much easier. When his cock refused to stand at attention or when Mel was too tight, too tense, all he wanted to do was dive between her thighs and make her come on his tongue until she forgot all about his shortcomings, but it just... never happened.
And he knew it wasn't him, okay? He was known for being good with his mouth (maybe he was a little bit of a sleazebag). It was his thing. It just wasn't her thing.
"It's too... soft. And wet," she'd told him the first time he tried, and the look of distaste on her face had haunted him ever since.
She still obliged him every once in a while, because, truth be told, he was doing it for pure love of the game, but no matter how he switched up the pressure, the rhythm, he just couldn't get her there with his tongue alone. It was a travesty.
His abject disappointment didn't come without a healthy helping of inner conflict. He knew Mel had her preferences. He liked that about her. She had specific ways of doing things, and he would never want to mess with that. But that didn't quiet the little voice in his head (Dana would probably call it Male Ego) from telling him he needed to perform miracles with his dick and mouth that would forever alter the trajectory of Mel King's life.
That was a chauvinistic way of thinking. Obviously. And yet... was he insane for believing he could make it happen? Frank was never one to back down easily. Mel should've known better than to count him out just yet.
Tonight was the big night. The one for all the marbles.
After weeks of gradual progress, they had finally worked Mel up to the biggest dilator, the one as wide as him, which she took like a champ after he talked her through a set of pelvic floor exercises. They were on the bed in her room, naked and cursing into each other's mouths. Everything was going according to plan. Becca was already in bed with her headphones on, SZA radio played softly from his phone, and there was a light rain clattering soothingly against the windowpane. He was steadily warming up her cunt with a few fingers, her breathing getting more and more labored with each touch. She looked like a dream, laid out for him on her green flannel sheets, flushed-pink and writhing from head to toe.
There was only one problem. Frank couldn't for the life of him get hard.
He was leaning almost all his weight on his partially numb forearm, desperately stroking himself with his right hand, trying to rouse any life out of his soft, pathetic cock.
C'mon, you idiot, Mel's waiting for you. Jesus, what's wrong with you? he internally screamed.
Even for his ADHD riddled brain, the multitasking was a bitch. He struggled to maintain a consistent rhythm on Mel's clit while wringing away at his own sorry excuse for a manhood.
"Okay, I'm-I'm ready," Mel whispered, mouthing at his ear.
Fuck.
"Yup, you got it," Frank said, hoping his voice didn't betray the burning hot panic coursing through him.
Maybe it would have enough sense to get hard when it was in closer proximity to her vagina? He lined himself up with her entrance and willed for it to happen with everything in him. Just. Get. Hard. It's not that fucking hard! Haha.
But, nope. Still nothing.
Mel's eyes fluttered open beneath him. "Frank?"
"I'm working on it, sweetheart," Frank choked out, the muscle in his jaw spasming like a mechanical bull.
She lightly nudged him off of her to see what all the trouble was.
He had no choice but to admit defeat. All the evidence she needed was hanging limply in front of her.
He collapsed back on the pillow with an exasperated hmmph and smacked himself in the face with both palms. He didn't want to see anything for a while.
"Fuck," he groaned, "I'm-I'm in my head! Or, I don't know, maybe I'm getting old," he sighed, letting his arms cross on his chest. "I just want it to be good for you, Mel."
Oh, god. Horrifyingly, he realized he was starting to tear up.
Mel snuggled up next to him and gave his shoulder soothing little rubs and pats. "It's okay, honey," she said soberly, "It's totally fine. Really."
Frank rolled onto his side so he could face her. He raised an eyebrow.
"Well. I mean. I don't want it to be totally fine," he said petulantly, "I want you to be a little disappointed that I can't fuck you."
"I am!" Mel protested, gripping his bicep a little painfully. "I'm heartbroken," she insisted, making her kicked puppy face for emphasis, with the bottom lip jutting out and everything.
"I'm just trying to communicate to you that it's not your fault. And I don't take it personally," she continued. "Erectile dysfunction is very common amongst men in your age range, especially for those with a history of addiction."
"That's… true," he conceded.
She had said it so matter-of-factly.
Frank tried not to take 'in your age range' and 'history of addiction' personally; first of all, she was only 3 years younger than him, and second, he knew if anybody didn't judge him for his addiction, it was Mel. But his dream girl was naked and horny in his bed. The last thing he wanted to think about was how close he was to turning forty.
He made a move to finger her the way she liked, hard and fast with two fingers, hoping to punch out a few consolation orgasms to make up for leaving her high and dry, but he must have really looked pathetic, because she grabbed his hand to stop him before pushing him back onto the bed and getting on top to ride his face.
"Tap my knee three times if you can't breathe," she said primly, before he promptly blacked out.
Maybe good things did come to those who, well, couldn't.
Frank sort of used to hate days off. It made him antsy, thinking of all the lives he could be saving while he was at home doing the crossword, or whatever.
It wasn't that he didn't trust his colleagues, and he definitely wasn't ungrateful for every second he got to spend with Tanner and Penny, but he guessed he was cursed with this affliction called needing to be useful all the time.
He liked who he was at work. He didn't like to slow down. And when he was at home, sometimes he felt less useful and more like he was walking on a tightrope, just trying not to fall off again and lose it all. Even when he was present, he couldn't shake the feeling of being an absent husband. An absent father. The onslaught of new activities he filled his family's lives with when he had to be away from work hadn't actually brought them closer, it only ensured he never really had to stop and be with his thoughts for more than a second. Rehab taught him that.
Now though, he could finally say that he felt the sacred power of a lazy Sunday firsthand. Mel King taught him that.
They were making out slow in his room in the middle of the afternoon. There was no rush, no destination in mind. Just the two of them in some comfy sweats and Frank lounging comfortably in between Mel's legs, while they luxuriously kissed and nuzzled and licked. He'd hiked up Mel's t-shirt right above her breasts to give him something to play with, not necessarily to start anything. But as she lightly scratched her fingernails against his bicep vein, something began to stir in his pants.
"Mel," he murmured into her mouth.
She kissed him again. "Mmhm."
"Mel, I'm hard," he said, urgently breaking them apart.
Her eyes snapped open.
She took one look at his tented gray sweatpants, and suddenly she was fumbling out of her sleep shorts and panties, flinging them gracelessly onto the floor, and bracketing her thighs around him like a vice. Jesus, okay. He guessed she could be quick when she wanted to be.
He shimmied until there was enough space between their bodies for him to get to work. He slipped in a finger. Then two. The obscene squelching noises that filled the room only made his pants feel even tighter.
Mel pawed at his wrist trying to pull them out and get at his cock instead. "C'mon," she groaned impatiently.
Frank gave her a flat look. "Mel," he said sternly, "I gotta stretch you."
"Frank, it's fine. I'm ready, okay? Just put it in."
Jeez, she was being such a brat. But it did turn him on the way she looked down at his body like he was a science experiment she needed to do some further tests on...
Fuck it. He pulled his pants past his ass just enough to free his bobbing erection.
"Yay," she whispered, eyes alight with nervous excitement.
There was already a good amount of lube on his hand that he could transfer, but he spat once on his cock before lining up for good measure. He could feel that sweet heat radiating from her center.
He nudged at her entrance.
"Ouch!" she hissed, as soon as he passed the first ring of muscle.
Frank rolled his eyes. "I told you!"
He tried to jerk his hips away, but she wouldn't let him. She wrapped her calves tighter around his waist, trapping him there.
"No, wait, owie, I just need to-"
"Shhh, unhand me," he grunted as he pulled the tip out. "Just let me do what I need to do."
With three curled fingers, he gave her a minute or two more of thorough strokes. Finally, when she was pliant under his touch and breathing heavy, he stroked her wetness all over himself and presented his cock at her opening. Her cunt looked so pitiful, clenching around nothing.
He pushed in. Mel gasped.
Just the tip was in, and he was already losing his goddamn mind. He took his sweet time easing into her, feeling every wall expand and contract around him, cataloguing her moans and sighs at each new spot he reached.
He took short shallow breaths before finally bottoming out with a long groan.
"Ohhhfuuuuck," he panted. He felt like his brain was melting out of his ears.
"Oh my," Mel said, voice breaking.
As his cock nudged at the deepest part inside her, her fingers pressed into his shoulders, hard.
He tried to keep completely still while she adjusted to the stretch. "You okay?"
She took a second, deeply inhaling and exhaling, and then she nodded.
"Yes," she breathed, a blinding grin on her face. She twirled a sweaty lock of Frank's hair around her finger. "I love you."
A couple of hot tears sprung to his eyes, and he blinked them back.
"I love you too baby," he whispered, overcome. "I'm gonna move now, okay?"
She keened up to bite his jaw in affirmative.
The feeling was indescribable. He rocked inside her once, and her whole body moved with him. He stared in awe at how her soft tits looked smushed against his chest hair. And, god, her face. The sweetest little gasps kept escaping from behind those perfect pink lips and bunny teeth at every drag of him inside. Any boundaries that may have existed between him and Mel were pronounced dead and gone in an instant.
He thrusted again, and her eyes rolled back, neck vein jumping. Her thighs squeezed around his waist impossibly tighter, and he just had to swallow her moan with a sloppy kiss. He couldn't think about anything else but all of that wet heat surrounding him.
He knew why it was so good. Because it was Mel. She was so perfect. He was so proud of her for taking him after only being able to fit one of her tiny fingers for so long, she could do anything, god, he loved her so much, he couldn't believe he got to have this. A pressure was building inside him, starting from behind his eyelids. His pace involuntarily picked up to chase it and... oh.
Oh no.
"Fuck, Mel, oh god, I'm gonna-"
His hips stuttered like a faulty engine. He couldn't stop himself from fucking into her with abandon as his orgasm ripped through him, white-hot.
With a shout, he spilled inside her.
He had busted in barely two and a half thrusts.
"Fuck!" he snapped.
He pulled out and rolled over to sit on the edge of bed, his head dead weight in his hands. Hot shame bubbled up in his chest. He was so frustrated, and, yup, he was also on the verge of tears again. Great.
"This never happens. This-this wasn't how our first time was supposed to go!"
Mel scooted up behind him and tucked her chin over his shoulder. "We've had sex lots of times," she patiently reminded him.
"Yeah, I know, but-okay I know it's not a progressive mindset or whatever, but I wanted your first time doing this to be special," he twisted around to look her in the eye.
She looked up at him earnestly, wrapping her arms around him. "Aw, Frank, it was. I loved it. Seriously."
"You like that I'm thirty-four with the stamina of a fifteen year old?"
"Well, I definitely wasn't having sex at fifteen so I don't know if that's an apt comparison," she said hurriedly, "but it must mean you really love me and are attracted to me if, you know. If I was able to make you finish that quickly." She smiled at him, smug.
Leave it to Mel King to always see the bright side of every situation.
"I do love you. And I'm obviously attracted to you," he said, gesturing towards his spent cock, "as you can see."
"I love you too," she hummed, and placed a peck on his cheekbone.
He took the opportunity to admire her up close. She was so gorgeous, so kind. Too good for him by far. The little freckle under her eye called out to him, and he had the urge to kiss it. He could, so he did.
Then she bit her lip and stared at him for a second with wide hazel eyes. "Actually, your face was really cute when you came," she blurted out. When he grimaced, she quickly protested, "And hot!"
"It was 97% hot, and like... 3% cute," she corrected. "Seeing you lose control like that, with your arm muscles tensing, and the sound you made, oh boy, it—it was very erotic."
Her warm breath fanned across his face. Her eyes were hooded and dark, and they kept dropping to his mouth. Frank felt himself gaining back some steam.
Suddenly he felt extremely silly for worrying so much about his performance. It all paled in comparison to how he felt about her; how he knew she felt about him.
"Well, keep picturing it," Frank murmured, "because I'm not done with you yet."
A startled squeak escaped Mel's lips as Frank lightly shoved her back and flipped her over onto her stomach. He'd use a dilator and his fingers and his tongue, hell, he'd use a lawnmower if that's what it took. He was coming back for that 3%.
Three months later, they had just gotten off a shift. They’d spent all day joined at the hip, dragging each other across the ER whenever a particularly interesting sex injury came in, and eating from each others’ lunches. Normally, Robby or Dana would have told them to knock it off when they were being codependent like this, but they decided to cut them some slack, just for today.
They were back at his place. They had a dinner reservation in twenty minutes at the fancy new pizzeria across town, but they decided dinner could wait. All things considered, Frank was having a pretty amazing Valentine’s Day.
He had Mel pressed into the mattress, arms gently trapped behind her back, while he fucked her from behind. They were talking about games of chance.
"It's just for fun, Mel," his warm mouth groaned into her ear. "They need something to kill the boredom."
"I know," she argued, voice wobbling as he thrusted into her. "But it still makes me, ah, uncomfortable."
"I could say something," he offered, slowing his pace.
"No," she said quickly, her face going red. "That's embarrassing."
But she bit her lip and wiggled her ass against him as she said it. One of her tells, he had come to realize.
"C'mon," Frank smirked, "we both know you're not above a little embarrassment, babe."
He punctuated the pet name with a harsh snap of his hips.
Mel arched below him with a stifled cry as she rubbed her flushed face on the pillowcase.
"In fact," he said, voice lowering even further, "l wonder if they've ever bet on this."
"...On what?"
He picked up the pace, hips slapping against her fast and deliberate, and she choked on air.
"On this being your favorite position."
Her protests quickly dissolved into strangled moans.
"You think anyone at work would be able to guess," he continued, "how much you love it when Daddy pins you down and makes you take it?"
"Oh my god," she whimpered.
"When I've got you right where I want you? And you can't move a muscle?"
To emphasize his point he tightened the arm he had bracketed around her chest and fucked into her ruthlessly.
"They wouldn't-" she tried, but her voice came out shaky, muffled by the pillow. "They wouldn't talk about me like that."
"I heard they have a betting pool all about you, baby," he teased breathlessly. "You're the talk of the town."
He snaked his arm down to her clit to send her hurtling over the edge.
"No, I'm not-ugh," she shouted, her cunt spasming around him.
"Mhm. They're all gonna be arguing over you tomorrow morning," Frank hummed.
"About how many times you came on my tongue," he lightly mocked, licking her ear lasciviously, "and how many times that pretty pussy came all over Daddy’s cock."
Any composure she might have had left was completely abandoned. When Frank managed to strike that perfect balance between humiliation and vulgar praise, she had no choice but to succumb to it. He knew her too well.
She was making that telltale 'uh, uh, uh' noise from the back of her throat. He gave her a sharp slap of his hips against hers. Then another.
Jackpot.
She came with a guttural shout, louder than any sound he'd ever heard her make in bed before. He knew he wasn't going to last much longer either, not with her pussy shaking and clenching and leaking around him like that.
He quickly pulled out and flipped her over so she could see his face when he came inside her.
"Yeah, baby, that's it," Mel stuttered. "Give it to me."
She was barely conscious, but a greedy look flashed across her face when he started chasing his own pleasure inside her. As soon as he saw it, his orgasm hit him like a train.
He came with a loud grunt, shooting off inside her for what felt like forever. When he was finally spent, he collapsed, half-on top of her.
They stayed like that for a while, hugging and breathing hard. The lingering smell of sex in the air made Frank feel pleasantly mindless.
"Wow," Mel said.
"Yeah," Frank panted.
"I don't think I've ever orgasmed that intensely in my life," she mused, staring off in the distance. "I thought I was going to pass out. Or maybe die."
"I'm glad you didn't, that would have been awkward," Frank said, "and I wouldn't be able to do this."
He pushed himself up just enough to plant kisses on every square inch of her face. Mel laughed and held his face in her hands. She pet his hair, and he leaned into it, feeling like a big, well-loved dog.
"Was it good for you?" she asked.
Frank blinked at her. "Um, is the Pope catholic?"
She smiled. "Yes."
"Well."
Frank looked at her deliberately. Something shifted between them then, something that felt important. He loved her so much.
Mel's eyes welled up. "I just. Wow. I never thought sex could be like this. I didn't think l'd ever get to-" she cut herself off, clasping his hand. "I'm so glad we can do this together, Frank."
Frank's heart swooped in his chest. "Good," he said softly, "because we're gonna be doing it together for a long time."
"Yeah?"
"Until you stop wanting to. Or until my dick falls off. Whichever comes first."
She pressed their noses together. "I have money on the latter."
"How much?" he mumbled against her lips.
"Twelve seventy-five."
"Mel, you’re going to bankrupt us."
"I don’t know," she laughed, breathless, “I’m liking my odds.”
He pulled her in for a nice, long kiss.
He liked her odds too. He didn't feel like a flight risk anymore. Or like he was just a dice roll away from losing everything. Let their coworkers bet on whatever they wanted. Let whatever happened in Vegas stay there.
Frank wanted to stay right here.