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Frank had done a lot of bad things throughout his life. He could name them all, but he lost count at this point.
But one of the rare, right and good, things he had done was befriending Melissa King.
Frank could admit he just had a soft spot for her ever since he met her. He had been in a dark, dark place at that time, and Mel always seemed to pause whatever storm went on in his head.
But frank wasn't really sure what he done to get to here, where they were at that point, sitting across from each other on a dimmed booth, on their weekly dinner, and she's staring at him with those big eyes behind those big glasses, blinking at him after simply dropping a bomb on his lap.
"I'm sorry, what?" He asked. .
She rolled the straw between her fingers, the ice in her drink clinking softly.
"I wouldn't ask if I had another option, Frank."
He reached for his Coke and took a long drink. Cold carbonation burned down his throat. For one reckless second he wished the glass held whiskey instead. Being sober meant feeling everything exactly as it happened.
He set the glass down slowly.
"You want me to kiss you."
The words sounded ridiculous even to him.
Mel pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her mouth tightening in embarrassment.
"My first kiss with Callum has to go well. I can't let him realize I've never done it before."
Frank blinked at her.
"Being a virgin is whatever," she continued quickly. "People pretend it's a big deal but nobody actually cares anymore. But never having been kissed? That feels humiliating."
The quiet of the booth settled around them.
Frank stared at her like she had just suggested they rob a bank together.
Melissa King.
His best friend. The person who had dragged him through some of the worst years of his life without even realizing she was doing it.
The person who texted him at three in the morning when a patient died. The person who forced him to eat real food during night shifts. The person who sat beside him the day he hit his sobriety anniversary and pretended it was just another Tuesday so he would not feel exposed.
He would have done almost anything for her.
Apparently that included this.
Frank exhaled slowly and slid out of his seat. The booth creaked as he moved beside her.
"Alright," he said quietly.
Mel turned toward him, alert immediately.
"We'll treat it like a lesson."
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. Of course that worked on her. Frame anything as education and Melissa King settled into focus.
He tried to convince himself it was simple.
He had kissed plenty of people. Random hookups after long shifts. A girlfriend or two that had faded out of his life without leaving much behind. His ex wife.
The problem sat inches away from him now.
Mel smelled like shampoo and hospital soap and the citrus gum she always chewed when she was stressed. Close enough that he could see the faint freckles across her nose.
None of the people he had kissed before had ever mattered.
Mel mattered.
"There are different kinds of kisses," he said, clearing his throat.
She turned toward him fully, one knee tucked beneath her on the booth. Her attention locked onto him with surgical precision.
The same look she used when assisting in the trauma bay.
"The easiest one is a peck," he continued. "Just quick contact. Its tame."
She nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
His pulse began to climb for reasons he refused to examine.
Frank lifted his hand.
"Can I?"
"Yes."
Her answer came immediately, with no hesitation.
Mel watched him with the same focused intensity she had when learning how to do a crike for the first time.
His hand settled against her cheek.
Her skin felt warm under his palm. Softer than he expected. He could feel the small movement of her breath against his wrist.
Frank leaned in.
The diner noise faded into the background. Plates clinking somewhere behind them. The quiet hum of the refrigerator near the counter. Rain hitting the glass.
Then their lips touched.
A spark shot straight through his chest like someone had flipped a switch inside him.
Her lips were soft and warm and... soft?
He pulled away after barely a second and it was just enough contact to count.
Frank swallowed hard.
Mel blinked up at him.
Her brows lifted behind the glasses.
"Oh."
A small pause.
"That's it?"
Frank let out a short breath, running a hand through his hair while his heart hammered against his ribs.
"I'll try not to take that personally," he said quietly.
The problem was that the electricity from that tiny, harmless kiss was still racing through his body.
Frank cleared his throat, still trying to steady the rhythm of his heart.
Mel watched him expectantly, waiting for the next instruction the same way she always had during training, focused and alert. Completely serious about the task in front of her.
Which, somehow, made this worse.
"Alright," he said, forcing his voice back into its usual calm tone. "That was the simplest version."
Mel nodded once.
"Some kisses require… longer contact."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, intrigued.
Frank leaned back a little so he could look at her properly. The dim light of the diner caught on the lenses of her glasses. A strand of her hair had slipped loose near her cheek.
Frank had no idea why he was so nervous.
"This time," he continued, "you let it last a little longer than before."
She absorbed that with visible concentration.
"And… your lips can move, you know... you can respond" he added, gesturing slightly with his hand.
Mel tilted her head.
"Respond how?"
Frank huffed a quiet breath through his nose.
"Like conversation," he said. "You feel what the other person does and answer it."
That explanation seemed to satisfy her.
She nodded once more.
"Okay."
There was no nervousness in her voice. No hesitation. Melissa King approached this the way she approached learning any skill. Curiosity first. Execution second.
Frank studied her face for a moment.
Five years of friendship sat between them like a solid foundation. Late night talks. Long shifts. Quiet drives home after brutal days. All the ordinary pieces that built something steady.
This was just another strange moment layered on top of that.
It meant nothing further than it actually was.
He placed his hand lightly against her cheek again.
Mel stayed very still, watching him closely, waiting for the cue.
"Close your eyes" he whispered.
Her lids fluttered closed, long dark lashes agaisnt her cheekbones.
Frank leaned in and their lips met again.
This time he did not pull away as fast.
For a second he simply held the contact, letting her adjust to the feeling. Let himself adjust to it, too. Her breath brushed softly against his skin. Then he moved his lips slightly, just subtle pressure and a small shift.
Mel followed the motion a moment later.
It was tentative at first, almost cautious, like she was testing unfamiliar ground. Frank felt something strange tighten low in his chest.
Her lips moved again, a little more confidently this time, mirroring the rhythm he set.
Frank became very aware of how quiet the diner had grown around them. The distant sound of dishes clattering behind the counter. Rain still tapping against the windows, but it felt muffled.
Mel’s hand had come to rest lightly on the booth between them, close enough that he could feel the warmth of it near his arm.
Her lips moved once more.
Slightly bolder.
Frank pulled back.
The break in contact felt abrupt.
Mel blinked up at him, clearly processing.
Her cheeks were faintly pink now. She looked beautiful when she blushed.
"Okay," she said slowly. "That one felt… different."
Frank let out a small breath.
"Yeah."
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to organize his thoughts. His pulse was still moving faster than it should have been.
Which was ridiculous. This was Mel. His best friend.
This was just lesson to help her out and nothing more.
"You did good," he said after a moment.
Ahead faintly smiled and tilted her head. Then her gaze lifted back to him, curious again.
"What’s the next lesson?"
Mel's gaze lifted back to him, curious again. Her cheeks still held that faint pink from their last kiss, but her eyes were clear and focused behind her glasses, already ready for the next thing.
Frank looked at her for a long moment. The diner hummed around them, quiet and warm. Rain still tapped against the windows. She sat there waiting, trusting him completely, with no idea what she was actually asking for.
He should tell her that was enough. That she knew everything she needed to know for Callum. That they should go back to being friends now and pretend the last few minutes never happened.
He didn't say any of that.
"The next one's different," he said instead. His voice came out lower than he meant it to. Rougher.
Mel tilted her head. "How?"
Frank reached out and slowly slid her glasses off her face. She blinked at the sudden change, her eyes adjusting, and without the frames she looked softer. More open. He could see the way her pupils were already starting to expand, darkening the hazel of her irises.
He set the glasses on the table next to his Coke. Mel watched him with that intense focus she got. Waiting.
Frank moved closer. His hand came up to her face, palm against her warm cheek, thumb brushing the soft skin just below her eye. She leaned into the touch without seeming to realize she was doing it.
"This," he said, "is going to feel different than before."
"Okay," she whispered.
He kissed her.
Slow at first. Gentle. His lips moved over hers like he had all the time in the world, like they were the only two people in the diner, in the city, in the world. She made a small sound against his mouth and her hand came up to his wrist, holding on.
Then he deepened it.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips and they parted immediately, like she'd been waiting for it. Like she wanted it. The first taste of her mouth sent something hot through his veins, straight down to his gut.
She tasted sweet from the soda. Warm. Completely her.
Frank made a sound he couldn't control.
Mel answered it. Her tongue met his, hesitant at first, then bolder when he didn't pull away. She was learning him already, reading the way he moved, matching him. Her fingers slid from his wrist up into his hair.
Jesus.
He kissed her deeper. His other hand found her waist and pulled her closer in the booth, until there was barely any space between them. She came willingly, eagerly, her body pressing against his side like she belonged there.
Her mouth moved with his like she'd been doing this her whole life. Frank pulled back just far enough to speak, his lips still brushing hers.
"You're a fucking natural," he breathed.
She made a small sound, almost a whimper, and kissed him again before he could say anything else.
This time it was different. Hotter. She kissed him like she meant it, like she needed it. Her tongue slid against his and her fingers tightened in his hair and she pressed closer until there was no space left between them.
Frank's hand slid lower on her waist. His thumb found the hem of her shirt and slipped beneath it, just enough to feel the warm skin of her hip. She shivered against him and made a sound into his mouth that went straight to his cock.
He was hard.
Actually hard.
Sitting in a diner booth on a Tuesday night with rain falling outside and his best friend kissing him like she'd been waiting her whole life to do it.
Her hand slid down from his hair to his shoulder, then to his chest. He felt her fingers spread against him, felt her feel his heart hammering under her palm, and she made a small pleased sound that she swallowed into the kiss.
Frank deepened it again. His tongue swept into her mouth and she met him eagerly, passionately, like she couldn't get enough. Her fingers curled into his shirt.
His jeans were too tight. The pressure was building with every small sound she made, every shift of her body against his, every brush of her tongue. He wanted to pull her into his lap. Wanted to feel her pressed against him properly. Wanted-
He broke the kiss.
Had to.
He pulled back gasping, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath coming fast and rough. His hand was still under her shirt on her hip. Hers was still fisted in his shirt over his heart.
They sat there for a long moment, both breathing hard.
Mel's eyes fluttered open.
They were dark. So dark. The brown almost completely swallowed by her pupils, her gaze hazy and unfocused like she was somewhere far away and trying to find her way back. Her lips were pink and slightly swollen, parted, wet.
She looked completely undone.
She looked beautiful.
Frank wanted to kiss her again.
"Why did you stop?" she asked quietly. Her voice was different, somehow rougher.
Frank let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
"Mel, we're in public."
She blinked at him, slow, like the words took a moment to reach her.
"We're in a diner," he continued. "There are people twenty feet away. Some types of kissing can't be done in public."
She absorbed this. Processed it. Then, without hesitation, she said, "Let's go to my car, then."
Frank stared at her.
She looked back at him with those dark, earnest eyes, completely serious. Completely unaware of what she was actually asking for. Her car. A secluded place. Alone with him after kissing like that.
He chuckled, breathless, shaking his head slightly.
"Mel," he said. "You can't be that naive."
Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Frank pulled back just enough to look at her properly. His hand was still on her hip beneath her shirt. He could feel the warmth of her skin, the slight tremor in her body. She was turned on. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she was breathing, in the way she kept glancing at his mouth.
And she had absolutely no idea.
"If I go to a secluded place with you," he said quietly, "I'll have to teach you way more than just kissing."
The words hung between them.
Mel's eyes searched his face. He watched her try to understand, watched the gears turn behind those dark eyes. Her lips parted slightly.
"What exactly?" she asked.
Frank almost laughed again. Almost. But there was nothing funny about the way his body was responding to her, to this conversation, to the innocent curiosity in her voice.
Her naivety. Her eagerness. The way she was clearly feeling things she didn't have names for yet. She didn't have any idea how badly he wanted to show her. Didn't have a clue how much of a bad idea it was to ask him that question right now.
"Mel," he said slowly. "You need to think about what you're actually asking for."
She didn't look away.
"I'm asking you to teach me," she said. "That's all."
That's all.
Frank looked at her for a long moment. At the flush still burning on her cheeks. At the way her chest rose and fell faster than normal. At the trust in her eyes, absolute and terrifying.
She trusted him.
Completely.
And he was sitting here hard as a rock because his best friend kissed him like she meant it.
"You don't even know what you're asking," he said quietly.
"Then tell me."
Her voice was steady. Certain. Like she'd already made up her mind about something he hadn't even said yet.
Frank closed his eyes for a second. Tried to find words. Tried to find the right way to explain why going to her car would be a catastrophic idea without actually saying the words I want to fuck you so badly I can barely think straight.
When he opened his eyes, she was still watching him. Still completely unaware of the effect she was having.
"Mel," he said. "I'm so fucking hard right now."
She blinked.
"From kissing you," he continued. "From the sounds you made. From the way you pressed against me. If we go to your car, I'm not going to stop at kissing. And you need to understand that before you ask me to go anywhere with you."
She stared at him.
He watched her process it. Watched the realization dawn slowly, piece by piece. Her cheeks got pinker. Her breath caught.
But she didn't look away.
"Oh," she said quietly.
"Yeah. Oh."
Frank pulled his hand out from under her shirt. Slowly, almost reluctantly. He needed to create some space between them before he did something they couldn't take back.
Mel's hand was still on his chest.
She didn't move it.
"So if we went to my car," she said carefully, "you would want to... do more?"
Frank let out a rough breath.
"Mel."
"I'm just trying to understand."
Her eyes were so earnest. So genuinely curious. She looked at him like he was explaining a medical procedure, like she was taking notes in her head, like this was just another thing she needed to learn.
Except her pupils were still blown wide and her breathing was still uneven and her fingers were still curled into his shirt like she didn't want to let go.
"You're not helping," he muttered.
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"I'm not trying to help," she said. "I'm trying to figure out what I want."
Frank's heart stopped.
Then started again, harder.
"And what do you want?" he asked.
Mel looked at him for a long moment. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Then back up to his eyes.
"I don't know yet," she admitted quietly. "But I want to find out."
The words settled between them like a challenge. Like an invitation. Like the beginning of something Frank wasn't sure either of them was ready for.
He should say no.
Frank should absolutely say no.
But Frank never said he was good at being good. He was better at being bad. Had always been better at it. Bad came naturally, easy as breathing, familiar as the anger he used to carry around like armor. Good required effort. Good required choosing something else.
And Mel.
Mel was looking at him in a way that told him she wanted him on his worst behavior.
He saw it in her eyes. In the dark pupils. In the way her lips parted when she looked at his mouth. In the small unsteady rhythm of her breathing.
She wanted to find out. And God, he wanted to show her.
Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled a few bills out, didn't even count them, just left them on the table next to her folded glasses. Enough to cover their food and then some.
"Let's go," he said.
Mel picked up her glasses. Slipped them on. The familiar frames changed her face again but not enough. Not nearly enough. He could still see the flush on her cheeks. Could still see the want in her eyes behind the lenses.
They slid out of the booth together. She grabbed her jacket. He grabbed his.
Then they stepped outside and the rain hit them immediately. Not quite a downpour, but steady and cold and soaking through his shirt before they'd made it ten feet. Mel gasped beside him and laughed, surprised, and the sound did something to his chest.
His truck was closer than her car.
"It's closer," he said, grabbing her hand. "Come on."
They ran.
His truck was an old thing, beat up and reliable, parked at the far end of the nearly empty lot under a flickering light. The rain plastered Mel's hair to her face by the time they reached it. Her glasses were speckled with water. She was laughing, breathless, beautiful.
Frank pulled open the back door.
"Get in."
She climbed in without hesitation. He followed, slamming the door behind them, and suddenly they were enclosed in the dark quiet space. The rain drummed on the roof above them. The windows were dark, tinted just enough that anyone passing would have to press their face to the glass to see inside. The parking lot was empty.
Mel was looking at him.
Her hair was wet, clinging to her temples and neck. Water droplets slid down her cheeks. Her glasses had fogged slightly from the warmth of the truck. She pulled them off carefully, set them on the seat beside her, and looked back at him with those dark unprotected eyes.
Frank promised himself something in that moment. He wasn't going to take her virginity in a fucking parking lot.
He wasn't.
He was just going to teach her. Show her some things. The kinds of things a woman deserved to know before she ended up with someone like Callum who probably wouldn't bother to learn what she liked.
He was being a good friend.
That's what he told himself.
The lie sat heavy in his chest but he ignored it. He'd always been good at ignoring things that mattered.
"There are some kinds of kisses," he said quietly, "that go beyond lips."
Mel watched him with that focused attention. He could not begin to explain how much that turned him on.
"Can you name them, Mel?"
His hand lifted to her neck. Her skin was wet from the rain, cool from the air outside, but warm underneath. He traced his fingers slowly along the side of her throat, feeling her pulse jump under his touch.
She shivered.
"Um," she said. Her voice was smaller than before. Breathier. "Like... neck kisses. And..."
Her eyes fluttered when his fingers reached the spot just below her ear.
"Yes," he encouraged softly. "And?"
"And..." She swallowed. "I don't live under a rock, Frank."
He smiled. Slow and dark and she couldn't see it fully in the dim light but she must have felt it, must have sensed the shift in him.
"Then what else?"
Her breath caught.
"Kisses... on one's private parts."
Frank's whole body tightened.
Oh, he was evil. He knew he was evil. Sitting here in the dark with his best friend, watching her stumble over words she was too innocent to say easily, feeling the way her skin heated under his fingers.
He leaned closer. His mouth found her ear.
"I'm a little rusty on anatomy lessons," he murmured. "What private parts, Mel?"
His teeth grazed her earlobe.
She made a sound. Small and breathless and completely involuntary.
"Um." Her voice shook. "Breasts. And... down there."
He kissed the spot just below her ear. Felt her pulse racing under his lips. Her skin tasted like rain and warmth and her.
"Down where?" he asked against her neck.
"Frank."
"Melissa. Tell me."
She was breathing so hard now. He could feel it, could feel her chest rising and falling where her shoulder pressed against his. Her hands were clenched in her lap like she didn't know what to do with them.
"Between my legs," she whispered.
Frank made a sound low in his throat.
He kissed her neck properly then. Open mouthed and warm, tongue sliding against her skin, feeling her tremble against him. Her head fell back against the seat, giving him more access, and he took it.
Her pulse was wild under his lips.
"Do you want me to show you?" he asked against her skin. "All the kinds of kisses I could give you, Mel?"
He felt her breath hitch.
Felt her hand come up and grip his arm.
"Yes," she whispered.
The rain fell harder outside. Drumming on the roof, running down the windows, creating a curtain of sound and dark that made the truck feel like its own small world.
He could.
He could show her right here in his backseat.
Frank pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were dark, so dark, her lips parted and wet, her chest rising and falling fast. She looked at him like he held answers to questions she hadn't known to ask.
He kissed her. He kissed her like he wanted her, like he'd been wanting her for longer than he'd let himself realize, like five years of friendship had been building to this moment in the back of his truck with rain falling outside.
His mouth was filthy against hers. Demanding. His tongue swept in and she met him eagerly, desperately, making small sounds that went straight to his cock. His hand slid into her wet hair and tugged gently, just enough to angle her head back, and she gasped into his mouth.
"God," he groaned against her lips. "Mel."
She kissed him back harder.
His other hand found her waist, slid under her shirt, spread across the warm skin of her stomach. She shivered and arched into his touch and he felt it everywhere.
He broke the kiss just long enough to look at her.
"Tell me," he said. His voice was rough, unrecognizable even to himself. "Mel. Are you wet?"
She stared at him.
"Does it hurt?" he asked. "Between your legs?"
Her lips parted. Her breath came in short quick pants. He watched her process the question, watched the flush spread from her cheeks down her neck, watched her pupils blow even wider.
"I..." She swallowed. "Yes."
Frank's control cracked.
"Yes to which?"
Her fingers tightened on his arm.
"Yes to both."
He made a sound he couldn't stop. Low and rough and hungry. His forehead dropped to hers for just a second, both of them breathing the same air.
"Jesus, Mel."
"I don't know what that means," she whispered. "Is that bad? Is that normal?"
Frank pulled back just enough to look at her.
"That's normal," he said quietly. "That's what happens when your body wants something."
She blinked at him.
"What does it want?"
He could have told her. Could have explained it clinically, the way she probably expected. Blood flow and arousal and physical response. Instead he slid his hand higher on her stomach, feeling the way her muscles jumped under his touch, watching her eyes.
"It wants to be touched," he said. "It wants pressure. It wants..." He trailed off, his thumb tracing the underside of her ribcage. "It wants to feel good."
Mel's breath stuttered.
"Can I show you?" he asked.
The question hung between them. He was giving her a chance to say no. To stop this before it went any further. To climb into the front seat and drive away and pretend this conversation never happened.
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
"Yes."
Frank kissed her again. Slower this time, but no less intense. His hand moved higher on her stomach, higher still, until his thumb brushed the underside of her breast through her bra.
She gasped against his mouth.
He did it again.
Her bra was simple, cotton probably, practical like everything else about her. His fingers found the front clasp without thinking, without asking, and when it gave way she made a sound that was almost a whimper. He pushed her shirt up ult she was exposed.
He pulled back just enough to look at her.
Her breasts were perfect. Full and soft and pale in the dim light, her nipples peaked from the cold or from wanting him, he didn't know which. He wanted to find out.
"Frank," she whispered. Her voice was shaking.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said. "Any time. Just say the word."
She nodded.
He lowered his mouth to her breast.
The sound she made when his lips closed around her nipple was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. High and surprised and desperate all at once. His tongue circled her, tasted her, felt her arch into his mouth.
Her hand fisted in his hair.
"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, that's..."
He smiled against her skin.
"That's what?"
"I don't know." Her voice was wrecked already. "Good. That's good."
He showed her more. His mouth on her other breast, his hand replacing it on the first, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan and what made her hips shift restlessly against the seat.
She was ready. He could tell from the way she moved, from the small sounds she made, from the way her thighs pressed together like she was trying to find pressure where she needed it most.
He ignored his own urges.
This was about her.
"Frank," she said. Her voice was different now. Needier. "Frank, I..."
He lifted his head.
"What do you need?"
She looked at him with those dark desperate eyes.
"I don't know what I need," she whispered. "But I need something."
Frank stared at her for a long moment.
Then he moved.
He shifted lower in the seat, pulling her with him, positioning her so she was half reclined against the backrest. His hand found the button of her jeans.
"Can I?"
She nodded frantically.
He unbuttoned her jeans. Slid the zipper down. The sound was loud in the quiet of the truck, louder than the rain, louder than their breathing. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her jeans and her underwear together and looked up at her.
"Lift up."
She did.
He pulled them down her hips, down her thighs, past her knees. They caught on her shoes and he tugged them free, dropping them somewhere on the floor of the truck. She was bare from the waist down now, her shirt bunched up around her ribs, her breasts exposed from where he'd pushed her bra aside.
She was beautiful.
Completely, utterly beautiful.
And she was looking at him like she had no idea what came next.
Frank settled between her legs in the cramped space of the backseat. The rain hammered on the roof. The windows were dark. No one could see them. No one could hear them.
He could smell her. Warm and wet and wanting.
"Frank." His name was a question.
He looked up at her.
"I'm going to show you something," he said quietly. "And I need you to remember that this is normal. This is good. This is what your body was made for."
She swallowed.
"Okay."
He lowered his mouth to her. Fuck, he almost came on the spot.
The first touch of his tongue made her cry out. Loud and sharp and quickly stifled behind her hand. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. She tasted like everything he hadn't known he was missing.
His tongue found her clit and she sobbed.
He showed her everything. Gentle at first, learning her, then firmer when he felt how she responded. His name fell from her lips like a prayer, broken and desperate and beautiful.
Her hips started moving against his mouth.
He let her. Encouraged it. His hands gripped her thighs, held her open, let her take what she needed. She was close, he could feel it, could feel the tension building in her body.
"Frank," she gasped. "Frank, something's happening, I don't-"
He didn't stop.
She came apart against his mouth with a sound that was half scream and half sob, her body shaking, her hands fisted in his hair so tight it hurt. He kept going until she pushed him away, oversensitive and gasping.
Frank lifted his head.
She was sprawled across his backseat, wrecked and beautiful, her chest heaving, her eyes closed, tears leaking from the corners. Not sad tears. Just overwhelmed tears. Her body was still trembling.
He crawled up beside her. Pulled her against his chest. She went willingly, boneless and shaking, her face pressed into his neck.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
The rain kept falling.
Finally, quietly, she whispered, "I think that's my favorite kiss"
He chuckled and God, she looked so pretty. How had he not done this before? It felt insane.
"You taste like heaven, sweetheart" he said.
Mel stirred against his chest after a long moment. Her breathing had slowed but her body was still loose and warm, pressed against him in the cramped backseat. The rain continued its steady rhythm on the roof above them.
Frank's heart was still pounding.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like this. Shaken in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with her. With what just happened.
She shifted, lifting her head from his neck, and looked at him.
Her eyes were still dark. But there was something else there now. Curiosity. The same focused attention she brought to everything, every patient, every procedure, every problem that needed solving.
"That was..." She trailed off, searching for words.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
She bit her lower lip. The same lip he'd been kissing not long ago. The same lip she'd bitten while he was between her legs.
Frank's cock twitched painfully in his jeans.
He ignored it.
"Can I ask you something?" she said.
"Anything."
She considered her words carefully. He watched her do it, watched her sort through thoughts and questions and figure out which one she wanted to voice first.
"You said there were different kinds of kisses," she said slowly. "And you showed me about... five kinds."
Frank nodded.
"There are other kinds too," she continued. "Ones that aren't just... receiving."
He went still.
Her eyes met his. Earnest and curious. Completely unaware of the bomb she was about to drop.
"I want to learn how to give," she said. "The way you just gave to me."
Frank's entire body tightened.
"Mel."
"I want to know what it feels like," she said. "To make someone feel the way you made me feel. I want to know how to do it right."
He stared at her.
She looked back at him with those big dark eyes, her hair a mess, her lips swollen, her shirt still pushed up around her ribs, her bra still undone. She was half naked in his backseat and she was asking him if she could learn how to suck his cock.
The words wouldn't come.
"I know it's different," she said quietly. "For you. Because you're a man. I've read about it but reading isn't the same as knowing. And I want to know. So I'm not..." She hesitated. "So I'm not bad at it."
Frank made a sound low in his throat.
"You wouldn't be bad at it."
She tilted her head. "How do you know?"
Because you're perfect at everything else, he thought. Because you just made me lose my mind without even trying. Because the thought of your mouth anywhere on my body is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
"Mel," he said carefully. "This is different."
"How?"
He ran a hand through his hair. Tried to find words that would explain without scaring her.
"What you just did," he said slowly, "that was about you. Your pleasure. Your first time experiencing something. That's different from... from what you're asking for now."
She considered this.
"Why?"
Frank let out a rough breath.
"Because if you put your mouth on me," he said, "I'm not going to be able to think clearly. I'm not going to be able to control myself the way I did just now. And I promised myself I wasn't going to take this too far tonight."
She blinked at him.
"Too far?"
"This." He gestured vaguely between them. "In a truck. In a parking lot. You deserve better than that, Mel. You deserve..." He trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.
She watched him for a long moment.
Then she said, very quietly, "What if I don't want better?"
Frank's heart stopped.
"What if I want this?" she continued. "Right here. Right now. With you. Not because it's perfect or because it's the right setting or because we're in a bed with candles. But because I trust you. And I'm curious. And I want to learn from someone who actually cares about whether I learn it right."
He couldn't breathe.
"Mel."
She reached out and touched his face. Her palm was warm against his cheek, her fingers soft against his skin.
"Frank," she said gently.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, she was still watching him. Still completely unaware of the effect she was having over him.
"Tell me exactly what you're asking for," he said. His voice was rough. "Say the words, Mel."
She didn't flinch.
"I want to learn how to give you oral sex," she said. "I want you to teach me. I want to know what it feels like to have you in my mouth. I want to make you feel good the way you made me feel good."
Frank's whole body went rigid.
"Jesus Christ," he breathed.
"Is that okay?" she asked.
He laughed. Short and breathless and slightly unhinged.
"Okay," he repeated. "She's asking if it's okay to suck my cock in the back of my truck. Like it's a question about shift scheduling."
Mel's lips twitched.
"Is that a yes?"
Frank looked at her for a long moment. At the trust in her eyes. At the curiosity. At the complete lack of fear or hesitation.
He couldn't deny her anything. He never could.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "It's a yes."
She smiled. Small and pleased and completely unaware of the storm she was about to walk into.
Frank shifted in the seat, positioning himself so he was sitting properly, his back against the door. The truck wasn't built for this. Too small, too cramped, too many angles that didn't work. But he'd make it work.
For her, he'd make anything work.
"Come here," he said.
She moved toward him, crawling across the seat on her hands and knees. Her shirt was still bunched up, her breasts still exposed, and the sight of her moving toward him like that made his cock throb painfully.
When she reached him, she knelt between his legs. Looking up at him with those big dark eyes.
"Now what?" she asked.
Frank reached down and took her hand. Brought it to his lap. Pressed her palm against the hard length of him through his jeans.
She gasped softly.
"Feel this" he said quietly. "That's what you're asking for."
Her fingers curled experimentally against him. Exploring. Learning the shape of him through the denim. He has to bite his lip.
"It's big," she said quietly.
Frank's breath caught.
"Mel."
"It is." She looked up at him. "Is that normal?"
"Yeah. That's normal."
She nodded slowly, processing. Then her fingers found his button. His zipper. She looked at him for permission and he nodded, not trusting his voice.
She unbuttoned his jeans.
The sound of the zipper lowering was loud in the quiet truck. Louder than the rain. Louder than his heartbeat thundering in his ears.
She pulled his jeans down just far enough. His boxers too. And then he was free, hard and aching, springing up toward his stomach.
Mel stared.
Frank watched her watch him. Watched her eyes go wide. Watched her take in every inch of him.
"Oh," she breathed.
Is it ridiculous if he said he almost came right there? Just from her reaction to him?
She reached out slowly. Her fingers touched him like he was something fragile. Light and curious and so gentle it made his chest hurt. He held his breath.
Her fingertips traced along his length. Learning the shape of him. The feel of his skin. The way he jumped under her touch.
"Does that feel good?" she asked softly.
Frank groaned.
"Yeah, Mel. That feels good."
She wrapped her hand around him properly. Experimentally. Squeezed slightly and watched his face.
His head fell back against the seat.
"Like that," he managed. "Just like that."
She stroked him slowly. Awkwardly at first, not quite sure of the rhythm or the pressure. But learning. Always learning. Adjusting when his breath caught, filing away what worked and what didn't.
Then she leaned down.
"How do I do it?" She asked.
He was losing his mind. Truly. It took a tremendous amount of effort to say words when she was on all fours staring at his dick.
"You can, uh. Start by licking the tip" He said.
She nodded and stuck out her tongue, pink, dripping with saliva. Just the first touch of her against him and Frank's entire body went rigid.
"Fuck," he hissed.
She looked up at him. "Is that okay?"
"That's okay," he gasped. "That's very okay. Keep going."
She licked the entire length of him, then. From the base, to the very head.
Frank had never felt anything like this. Her inexperience was obvious but somehow that made it better. The way she was figuring him out. The way she was learning what he liked in real time. The way she looked up at him every few seconds to check his reaction.
Then, she wrapped her lips around him and sucked.
"Mel," he groaned.
"I don't think I can fit everything" she said and looked at him with genuine concern on her eyes.
Fuck. He was in love.
He took her hand and directed it to the base of his cock, and made her stroke him.
"Use your hand, like this" he gasped as she kept going.
She took more of him into her mouth. Her hand worked what she couldn't reach, stroking in rhythm with her mouth. It was messy. Imperfect. Completely and utterly devastating.
"Just like that," he breathed. "God, Mel. Just like that."
She hummed around him and he saw stars.
"That's it," he gasped. "Fuck. That's it, sweetheart."
She was getting better by the second. Finding a rhythm. Learning the sounds he made, the way his hips twitched, the spots that made him curse. Her confidence grew with every small reaction he gave her.
Frank's hand found her hair. And he wished he was a better man. But God, he needed her. So he guided her head, slightly, just enough. And he tried not to go too deep, but Mel went further and further and...
"Your mouth," he groaned. "Jesus christ."
She looked up at him with those dark eyes, his cock still between her lips, and the sight nearly finished him right there.
"Mel, I'm not going to last long."
She didn't stop.
If anything, she got more determined. More focused. She took him deeper, her hand working faster, her tongue doing things he didn't know how to teach but she was somehow learning anyway.
"You're so good at this," he heard himself say. The words were falling out of him unchecked. "So fucking good, Mel. How are you so good at this?"
She moaned around him, The vibration went through his entire body.. His hand pulled at her hair because, fuck, he was going to come on her mouth if she didn't stop.
"Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck, Mel. I'm close. I'm so close."
She didn't stop.
"I'm going to come," he warned her. "Mel, I'm going to-"
She took him deeper. And Frank came on her mouth.
His hand tightened in her hair, his hips bucked up without his permission, and he groaned her name like a prayer as he spilled into her mouth. Wave after wave of it, more intense than anything he'd felt in years, completely undone by his best friend in the back of his truck.
She stayed with him through all of it.
When he finally stopped shaking, she lifted her head slowly. Swallowed. Looked up at him with those dark curious eyes.
Frank stared at her, chest heaving, completely wrecked.
"That," he said hoarsely, "was not supposed to happen."
Mel tilted her head.
"Why not?"
"Because I was supposed to be teaching you. Not..." He gestured weakly at himself. "That. You didnt have to swallow it..."
She smiled. Small and pleased.
"You did teach me."
He laughed. Breathless and slightly unhinged.
"Yeah?"
She nodded.
"I also learned that I like the way you taste"
Frank looked at her for a long moment. At her swollen lips. At her flushed cheeks. At the trust in her eyes that he still hadn't done anything to deserve.
"Come here," he said softly.
She crawled up his body and settled against his chest. He pulled her close, ignoring the mess, ignoring the cramped space, ignoring everything except the warmth of her in his arms. He kissed her again. He could never get tired of it.
The rain kept falling.
"Frank?" She said.
"Mm?"
"Can you... can we keep going?" She asked.
He looked down at her.
"Mel..."
She placed her hand on his mouth before he could keep talking.
"I know what i want" she said "and I might not be experienced, but I'm pretty sure that you're hard again, and I'm so wet, and I need... I need you"
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
His entire brain rebooted.
"Mel, I won't fuck you in a parking lot" he said.
"The you better start driving" she said, her voice hoarse "because It hurts again... and I might just climb you to get what I need."
He blinked because this side of Mel was new. It was probably new to her, too. And he never put his clothes back on so fast. He climbed to the drivers seat.
"We'll be back for your car in the morning" he said.
Frank drove.
The rain had softened to a steady mist, the wipers clicking back and forth across the windshield in a rhythm he couldn't stop counting. His hands were wrapped around the steering wheel so tight his knuckles had gone white. He forced himself to loosen his grip. Forced himself to breathe.
Behind him, Mel was pulling her clothes back together.
He caught glimpses in the rearview mirror. The flash of her arms as she tugged her shirt down. The way she had to twist to reach her jeans, the denim still tangled somewhere on the floor. She moved slowly, like her body wasn't quite cooperating with her yet, like everything felt different now and she was still adjusting.
When she was done, she sat back against the seat.
Frank's eyes flicked to the mirror again.
She was flushed. Deep pink spreading across her chest, up her neck, settling high on her cheeks. Her hair was a disaster, wet and tangled from the rain and from his fingers. Her lips were still swollen, still slightly parted, and she was looking at him in the mirror with those dark eyes.
Waiting.
Frank looked back at the road.
His cock was already hard again.
He hadn't known that was possible. Hadn't known his body could rebound that fast, that desperately. But here he was, pressed against his jeans, aching, because Melissa King was in his backseat looking at him like she wanted to devour him.
He licked his lips.
He could still taste her.
The memory of it shot straight through him, heat coiling low in his gut. The sound she'd made when he first put his mouth on her. The way she'd gasped his name. The way she'd fallen apart under his hands like she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to show her what that felt like.
He wanted to do it again.
He wanted to do more.
He wanted to be inside her. Wanted to feel her around him, wanted to watch her face when he pushed into her for the first time, wanted to hear what sounds she made when she was full of him.
His hands tightened on the wheel again.
The road stretched out ahead, dark and wet, streetlights reflecting off the pavement. His building was fifteen minutes away. Maybe ten if he pushed it.
Ten minutes felt like an eternity.
A speed bump appeared out of nowhere.
Frank slowed, but not enough. The truck dipped and rose, the suspension creaking, and from the backseat he heard it.
A small sound.
Barely there.
But unmistakable.
Mel's breath caught and then released in something that was almost a moan.
Frank's eyes shot to the rearview mirror.
She was looking down at her lap, her hands pressed flat against her thighs. The flush on her cheeks had deepened. She bit her lip.
The speed bump. The movement. The way it must have jostled her, pressed things together that were already aching and sensitive.
Frank's jaw tightened.
"You can pleasure yourself in the meantime," he said.
The words came out rough. Lower than he intended. He watched her in the mirror as they landed.
Mel's eyes lifted to his.
"I've never..." she started.
Frank shook his head slightly.
"Just use your fingers," he said. "You'll know how. Your body will tell you."
She stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
He watched her hands move.
Down from her thighs. To the button of her jeans. She fumbled slightly, nervous now in a way she hadn't been before, and the sight of it made something twist in his chest.
She got the button open. The zipper. She shifted on the seat, working her jeans down just enough, just far enough to slide her hand inside.
Frank adjusted the mirror.
He shouldn't have. He knew he shouldn't have. But he did it anyway, tilting it just enough that he could see her. See the way her hand disappeared beneath the waistband of her jeans. See the way her eyes fluttered half-closed.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
His voice was steady. He was anything but. The voice he used with patients, with scared families, with anyone who needed someone to be in control. But inside he was burning.
Mel's breath hitched.
"Different," she whispered. "When I do it, it's different than when you..."
She trailed off.
"Than when I what?" he prompted.
Her eyes met his in the mirror. Dark. Needy.
"Than when you used your mouth."
Frank made a sound low in his throat.
"Keep going," he said.
She did.
He watched her fingers move beneath the denim. Watched her face shift as she found the right rhythm, the right pressure. Her lips parted. Her head fell back against the seat.
"That's it," he said quietly. "You're doing so good, Mel. Touching yourself for me."
She moaned. Soft and breathy. The sound went straight to his cock.
He pressed harder on the accelerator.
The streets blurred past. Red lights he barely registered, stopping just in time, then moving again. His building couldn't come fast enough.
In the backseat, Mel's breathing was getting faster.
"Frank," she whispered.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"I'm close. I think. It feels like before, when you..."
"Look at me," he said.
Her eyes found his in the mirror.
"I want you to come," he said. "But I want to be inside you when you do. Can you wait for me?"
She whimpered.
"Can you wait, Mel?"
"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, but hurry."
Frank pushed the truck faster.
Three more minutes. Two. He turned into his building's parking garage, the tires squealing on the concrete. Found his spot. Slammed the truck into park.
He was out of the driver's seat and into the back before the engine fully died.
Mel was waiting for him.
Her jeans were still undone, her hand still inside them, her eyes blown wide and desperate. She looked at him like he was the answer to every question she'd ever had.
Frank reached for her.
He pulled her hand out of her jeans and replaced it with his own. She was soaked. Absolutely soaked. Her fingers slipped easily through her clit and she cried out, grabbing his arm.
"Frank."
"I know," he said. "I know. We're here. We're going inside and I'm going to take care of you."
She nodded frantically.
He pulled his hand back, helped her fix her jeans, helped her out of the truck. They stumbled toward the elevator, her hand in his, both of them barely containing the need thrumming through their bodies.
The elevator ride was torture.
Three floors. Thirty seconds. She pressed against him in the corner, her face buried in his neck, her breath hot against his skin. His arm wrapped around her, holding her close, his other hand fumbling for his keys.
His apartment door finally.
Finally.
He got it open, pulled her inside, kicked it shut behind them.
And then they were alone.
Properly alone. Not a diner booth. Not a truck in a parking lot. His apartment, his space, his bed waiting for them down the hall.
Mel looked around briefly, taking it in, but her attention snapped back to him almost immediately.
"Now?" she asked.
Frank laughed. Soft and breathless.
"Yeah. Now."
He led her to his bedroom.
The lights were off but the city bled through the windows, casting everything in a soft glow. His bed was unmade, sheets tangled from the morning, but he didn't care. He pulled her toward it.
Then he stopped.
He looked at her standing there in his bedroom, rain-damp and flushed and so fucking beautiful it hurt.
"Mel," he said quietly. "Are you sure?"
She reached up and touched his face.
"Yes. I'm sure"
Frank kissed her.
Slow this time. His hands framing her face like she was something precious, something breakable, something he couldn't believe he got to touch. She kissed him back with the same intensity she brought to everything, her fingers curling into his shirt.
He walked her backward toward the bed.
When her knees hit the edge, he lowered her down gently, climbing over her, settling between her legs. He looked at her for a long moment. At her dark eyes. At her swollen lips. At the way her chest rose and fell with every breath.
"You're so beautiful," he said.
Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn't expected that.
"Frank."
"I mean it." He brushed hair from her face. "I should have told you years ago."
She didn't have words for that. Instead she pulled him down and kissed him again.
They undressed each other slowly. Piece by piece. His shirt over his head. Her shirt following. Her bra, already undone from before, sliding down her arms. His jeans pushed down his hips. Her jeans tugged off her legs.
When they were both bare, he looked at her.
She was perfect. All soft skin and gentle curves, her body open and waiting for him. She watched him watch her, and instead of hiding, she reached for him.
"Come here," she whispered.
He went.
He settled between her legs again, but this time was different. This time there was nowhere to go, nothing left to take off, nothing between them.
Frank reached down and touched her.
She gasped. Still sensitive from before, still aching, still wet. He slid his fingers through her folds slowly, watching her face, learning what made her breath catch.
"Tell me," he said quietly. "Tell me what you need."
"You," she breathed. "I need you inside me."
Frank's control wavered.
"Soon," he promised. "But I need to make sure you're ready."
She nodded, trusting him completely.
He lowered his mouth to her breast. Sucked gently, felt her arch into him, heard the small sounds she made. His fingers kept working between her legs, sliding, circling, preparing her.
When he finally pressed one finger inside her, she gasped.
"Okay?" he asked.
"Yes." Her voice was strained. "Yes, it's just..."
"I know." He kissed her. "I know. You're doing so good, Mel."
He worked her slowly. One finger, then two, stretching her carefully, watching her face for any sign of pain. She was tight. So tight. The thought of being inside her made his cock throb painfully.
But he waited.
He waited until she was pushing against his hand, until she was making those desperate little sounds, until she looked at him with eyes that begged.
"Please," she whispered. "Frank, please."
He positioned himself at her entrance.
"Look at me," he said.
Her eyes found his.
"This might hurt at first," he said quietly. "Just for a second. I'll go slow. But if you need me to stop, if it's too much, you tell me. Okay?"
She nodded.
"Say it."
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll tell you."
Frank held her gaze and pushed inside.
Just the tip. She gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her eyes widening.
"Breathe," he said softly. "Just breathe, baby."
She nodded, gasping, trying.
He pushed deeper.
The sound she made was small. Strained. But she didn't tell him to stop. Didn't pull away. Instead her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer, taking him deeper.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Mel. You feel..."
She felt like heaven. Like nothing he'd ever experienced. Tight and hot and perfect, gripping him like she never wanted to let go.
He pushed all the way in.
They both stilled.
For a long moment they just lay there, connected, breathing together. Her eyes were wide, searching his face, processing the feeling of him inside her.
"Okay?" he asked.
She swallowed.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just... a lot."
"I know." He brushed hair from her face. "We can stay like this. As long as you need."
She shook her head slightly.
"Move," she breathed. "Please. I want to feel you move."
Frank kissed her and began to move.
Slow at first. Letting her adjust to the feeling, letting her body learn the rhythm. She gasped with every thrust, her nails digging into his back, her eyes never leaving his face.
"You feel so good," he groaned against her mouth. "So fucking good, Mel. You have no idea."
She kissed him back desperately.
He moved deeper. The sounds she made drove him insane, little whimpers and moans that she couldn't seem to control. Her hips started moving with him, meeting his thrusts, taking him deeper.
"That's it," he breathed. "That's it, sweetheart. Take all of me."
"Frank." His name was a broken whisper. "Frank, it feels..."
"I know." He kissed her neck, her throat, her jaw. "I know. Let it happen. Don't fight it."
She was close. He could feel it in the way she tightened around him, in the desperate sounds she made, in the way her fingers gripped him like she was holding on for dear life.
"Come for me," he said against her ear. "I want to feel you come around my cock, Mel. Please, baby."
She sobbed.
The sound of his dirty words, the feeling of him inside her, the way he was looking at her like she was everything. It pushed her over.
She came with a cry, her body tightening around him, her nails raking down his back. The feeling of it, the way she gripped him, the way she shattered underneath him. It was too much.
Frank followed her over.
He buried himself deep and came with a groan, his forehead pressed to hers, his body shaking. Wave after wave of it, more intense than anything he'd ever felt, because it was her. It was Mel.
When he finally stilled, he could barely breathe.
He pulled out gently, carefully, and gathered her against his chest. She was trembling, her face buried in his neck, her body slowly relaxing.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
The city lights flickered through the window. The rain had stopped. The world outside was quiet.
Finally, softly, she whispered, "I think that's my new favorite."
Frank laughed. Quiet and warm and full of something he wasn't ready to name.
"Yeah?"
She nodded against his chest.
"That one's definitely my favorite."