Happy 500! I love your monster fics (teehee), but I'm actually here to request some Frankie Morales. If it pleases you, would you do a fic where you, a casual acquaintance he's been crushing on, accidentally has a nip slip, and Frankie is torn between telling you or letting the image burn in his mind a little longer.
Thank you, anon!!! I didn't do a *nip slip*, per se, but there is plenty of nipple mention/worship in the story, so hopefully that makes up for it!
-also oh yeah it's smut-
Dedicated to the sweet Anon that gave me so many thots with this request!
Summary: Will's end of summer barbecue has Frankie seeing more of you than he ever anticipated.
Rated: M! Dear God, M-M-M! 18+ Only, NSFW, SMUT AHEAD
Warnings: Smut, bathroom sex, curvy!F!Reader, Frankie crushing hard, Benny being a little s***, Will being all-knowing, talk of grilling burgers, pool fun, end of summer barbecue, yearning, shy!Reader, nipple worship, cursing, p in v sex y'all, no condom but let it always be assumed some other form of birth control is involved- practice safe sex, folks! (Also, a very brief, squint and you'll miss it, nod to the incredible Jurassic Frontier series that everyone already knows about, I assume.)
Word Count: 3.5K oops
Frankie is staring. He knows it and he can't help it. Someone, probably Ben, had cannon-balled into the pool, dousing you in water and making you sputter and shriek. The white shirt covering your suit is soaked, revealing the silhouette of your form and… and your…
Frankie nearly groans aloud.
Your nipples are budding as he watches, hardening from the coolness of the water and the breeze drifting between the trees of Will's backyard. You shiver lightly, turning away and crossing your arms as his friends, now yours too, laugh goodnaturedly at your expense. You laugh in return and wave Pope away when he motions you to jump in the water with him and Ben, instead padding over to the towel you'd laid neatly on the chair directly next to Frankie. His stomach begins to twist as you approach, and he straightens subtly in his seat, gripping the beer in his hand a little too tight.
You smile as you reach down for your towel, avoiding his gaze bashfully. He wants to focus on how cute you look in an oversized shirt, he really does- but his eyes keep zeroing in on your breasts. He takes a swig of beer, hoping to quench the sudden dryness in his throat. "Having fun?" The question comes out thick, almost choked, and he wants to kick himself for it.
You tuck your towel around yourself and sit down, shrugging as you glance at him. "I'm not a big fan of swimming," you admit to him softly. "But I wasn't gonna say 'no' to Will."
Frankie raises an eyebrow. "You don't like swimming?"
He'd only known you for a few months, but the admission seems out of character for you. You had never expressed a distaste for swimming before. You look over at him, seemingly ashamed. "Well, swimming is fine, I guess. It's just the… the 'being in a bathing suit in front of other people' part I dislike." You trail off with a nervous laugh, tucking the towel more securely around your chest.
Frankie takes another drink, considering what you've told him. It doesn't surprise him- you're shy. You had been since he first met you. Hell, that's part of his attraction to you. He thinks it's endearing. He thinks you're cute. And it certainly doesn't hurt that you're one of the kindest, smartest, most curvaceous women he's ever met. Yeah, Frankie's got it bad. And Will knew, which Frankie knows is exactly why he's been inviting you to their little get-togethers for the past 4 months.
Your discomfort with your body seems so odd to him though- maybe because you always dress nice, what with working at the VA with Will. Or maybe because he can see how fucking gorgeous you are, even in a plain black one-piece and a too-big white shirt that shows off everything and sends his mind racing. It doesn't compute. You should be flaunting your body, stripping that damned shirt off, jumping in the pool with your friends. Frankie pictures it for a moment, and it’s like a slow-mo porn shot in his mind: you, coming up from the water, hair slicked away from your face, glistening, gleaming, climbing up that rickety plastic ladder on the side of pool, your entire body revealed to him inch by inch, the black swimsuit hugging you in all the right places-
Jesus Christ. He needs to get laid. It had been too long. There had been a few opportunities, but he is batshit crazy for you and he always found himself comparing them to you and knowing he wouldn't be satisfied, and… and fuck, he wants you.
"I don't think you have anything to worry about, if that helps," he tells you. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge your reaction.
You blink at him and he can see your mind turning over his words, attempting to find the true meaning of his comment. He watches it register, knows you understand as your pupils dilate and your chest expands over an inhaled little "oh".
He wishes you'd take the fucking towel off.
He finally turns his head to look at you. He's surprised to see you staring straight at him, gnawing at your lip as your eyes dart over his features. He scratches his jaw self-consciously, pressing his lips together as he swallows against the lump in his throat.
"Are you seeing anyone?"
He nearly pulls a muscle with how quickly he turns to glance at you. "No," he admits. He ignores the tightening in his shorts, willing himself to calm down. It was a perfectly innocent question. No need to get your hopes up, he tells himself.
"Me neither," you say, looking out at the pool. You look contemplative, the light of the sun reflecting off the water and hitting your face prettily. Frankie wonders if that was a hint for him to ask you out...
"Burgers are almost done," calls Will from the yard. The two of you look over your shoulders to see him busy at the grill, grey smoke drifting up to the blue sky. There's a shout from the pool that makes you turn just in time for Benny to body slam into the water, sending a wave crashing over the two of you from your spots at the edge of the pool.
Frankie sputters indignantly, blinking water out of his eyes. "Benny, you mother fu-"
Your sudden giggles give him pause, make him look over to you where you are drenched in your seat. Frankie watches as you laugh, wiping the water from your eyes. You catch his gaze, giving him a brilliant grin that makes him smile in return.
He sets his watery beer down, removes his hat and shakes out his hair. You laugh even more when the water droplets flick you in the face.
"Get a room!" Ben shouts.
Frankie casually flips him off, still grinning at you. It makes you laugh even harder, and something in him melts at the sound.
You shiver as another cool breeze rolls through and Frankie stands suddenly, offering his hand to you. "Let's see if Will's got some spare towels." The offer is soft, slightly hesitant. But you take his hand gratefully and it soothes any fear of rejection. He keeps hold of your hand lightly, disappointed when it casually slips from his as the two of you walk towards the house.
He leads you past Will, informing the captain that you're off to find a dry towel and Will only smirks, flipping a burger knowingly. Frankie ignores that and walks to the sliding glass door. You pause, glancing down at your dripping form.
Frankie isn't prepared when you suddenly drop your towel; it lands on the concrete patio with a wet "slap". You wring your shirt out, oblivious to the way his gaze roams over the curve of your breasts, the way he licks his lips when he sees your pert nipples through your suit and shirt.
You turn back, looking apologetic. "I don't want to mess up his floors," you explain. Frankie swallows and nods, sliding the door open and gesturing for you to step inside.
You do so lithely, practically tiptoeing through the cool, quiet house. Frankie slides the door shut after he enters, the sounds from outside suddenly muted. You're waiting for him, smiling.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The two of you had been to Will's house a few times before, one time taking part in a Jurassic Park marathon at the insistence of Pope, so you already knew where the bathroom was.
The two of you pad down the hallway, shoulder to shoulder. You make the turn into the bathroom first, Frankie following suit. He starts digging through the tall cabinet in there, knowing that's where Will kept spare towels. He pulls one out for you, opting to use a smaller one for himself.
It's quiet, save for the soft rustling of terrycloth on hair and wet cotton. Frankie wipes at his face and neck, pulse beating erratically as he watches you towel at your hair. You're leaned over to the side, head tilted as you pat at your hair. You seem to sense him looking because your gaze meets his suddenly.
He looks away, heart leaping in his throat.
He sees you stop moving out of the corner of his eye.
"You… you can look." It's soft, breathless, and it goes straight to Frankie's cock.
He pauses, then lifts his eyes to look at you from beneath his lashes cautiously, mouth parting in awe as he searches your timid gaze. It feels like a dream, and he would consider it just that if it weren't for the heat he sees spilling over your cheeks, darkening them pleasantly.
You swallow before setting the towel down on the counter behind you. Then, slowly, you grip the bottom of your shirt and lift. Frankie watches, saliva pooling in his mouth as your thighs are revealed; then hips, then stomach, then your amazing fucking chest, and then the shirt is off. It lands next to your towel, tumbling into the sink.
Frankie's breathing is picking up. You said he could look and he does just that. He commits you to memory, filing away the image of your suit dipping down between your tits, the simple style accentuating your features and making the blood rush from his head. Even through the black fabric, with the light from the small window at the end of the bathroom helping, Frankie can see how hard your nipples are. The suit cups your breasts, sticking to you like a second skin and leaving little to his imagination. You may as well be totally exposed to him right now.
You lift your hand to touch the back of your neck, eyes wide and nervous, and then you pull on the knot that holds the straps up.
Frankie huffs out a strangled moan as the halter top falls away and your breasts, beautiful and full and fucking magnificent, are revealed to him. His eyes shoot up to yours, slightly panicked at what he's seeing, despite your earlier permission. He sees the same panic in yours, can see the question of "what am I doing" plastered across your face.
Frankie darts forward before he can think. He grabs your waist, hoists you up onto the counter, and slams his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You let out a muffled sound of surprise, wiggling against the counter and knocking over a few toiletries stacked neatly behind you in the process.
Frankie licks at you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth as his heart works to fly out of his chest. Jesus fuck- you're so sweet and good and-
You arch into him and all coherent thoughts tumble out of his mind.
His hand finds your breast instantly, thumb brushing over your nipple as he kisses you senseless. His other hand grips the back of your neck tightly, pressing you into him as if it will help him devour you. He'd be worried about being rough except you meet his advances with such fervor.
You grunt into him, fingers drifting over his patchy beard while your other hand cups his, guiding him over your breast. You squeeze and in return, he does too. There's something erotic about the way you're controlling his hand; your own fingers slip over his and move to brush over your nipple- he can feel the movement between his thumb and forefinger, the action making him growl into you.
You pull back slightly, resting your forehead to his as the two of you struggle to catch your breath. "Frankie," you pant. "I've been thinking about you for months." Your admission has him reeling. You… had thought about him?
The hand on your neck drifts forward, slides up to cradle your jaw even as he works your nipple between his fingers with the opposite hand. "Fuck," he groans. "Fuck, me too. I can't tell you how much I've thought about you- about this." He pinches for emphasis and you arch with a gasp.
He dips down, kissing down your neck and collar until he reaches your chest. His tongue darts out to flick your nipple, tasting the fleshy nub while he pinches the other. You whimper, thighs squeezing around his waist where he's fitted to you at the edge of the counter. You moan his name- it's all the encouragement he needs to take the bud into his mouth and suck.
You jerk against him, mouth falling open around a breathy moan. Your hand flits up to tangle in his damp hair, your palm pressing into his skull as you hold him to your tit where he licks and nips and suckles at you like a glutton. You grind into him, legs clenching around him as you work to find friction. He keeps you pressed into him even as he leans into you.
He groans, huffing around your breast. He feels drunk. His thoughts are fuzzy and warm, and filled with you. The way you taste as he swirls his tongue over the perky bud that he's currently grazing his teeth over; the way you sound when your breath catches in your throat and you whisper his name; the smell of your arousal, damp and hot, as it hits his nose with every fucking grind of your hips.
He lets go of you with a wet pop, pulling back enough to straighten. He lets go of your chest, hand slipping down to his shorts where he slides them down easily, just enough for his cock to spring free. Your hand now no longer holding his, you use it to grab the bottom of your suit, pulling it aside with a whimper. The fabric strains against you and you struggle for a moment, adjusting your position on the counter to wedge the suit to the side.
Frankie grabs himself, stroking a few times on instinct before he guides himself to your entrance. His lip curls with barely contained desire when he feels how wet you are. Your cunt is soaked, coated in arousal from him- for him. His knuckles brush your fingers where you're holding the suit aside for him. He kisses you again, suddenly, inexplicably nervous- the kiss helps. You shudder when he presses into you.
It's just the tip, but he can feel you clenching in anticipation. He pushes slowly, mouth falling open against yours as the two of you forget how to breathe. Frankie feels light as air. He thinks he may float away except for the anchor of you holding him there.
You're so fucking tight. He pushes and pushes until he's buried to the hilt, sheathed in the unbearable heat of you. He thinks you've stopped breathing until you let out a choked cry. Your head tilts back until it touches the mirror behind you. Frankie's gaze darts to it- brown eyes so dark with lust they're nearly black stare back at him. Hair mussed and damp, brow beading with sweat, Frankie looks a mess. But then he sees the way your throat moves as you swallow, the motion pulling his vision back to you.
You look… beautiful.
You're biting your lip, eyes squeezed shut and brows drawn up in a way that exudes the guilt you feel for the pleasure you're in. Frankie knows you don't do this- you don't hook up. He pulls back before surging forward again, grunting at the way you squeeze around him and give a little cry. You're trembling.
He presses a heated kiss to your damp temple, eyes rolling back as he begins to pump into you. It's slow, and hot, and he makes sure to drag himself out so you can feel every last inch of him. You clench around him every time he surges back into you.
He pushes harder, hips snapping quicker. The bottles and tubes and the soap dish all rattle with the force of it, the counter creaking with each thrust. Your hand flutters up to grip at his back; the button down shirt he'd chosen for the day becomes bunched in your fist. You give the sweetest little moan every time he slams into you, high-pitched and keening.
There is no space between your bodies. The two of you mold together, move as one, grinding and sweating and panting as the impromptu bathroom sex goes softly intimate. Frankie sweeps his lips over yours, over and over again. He murmurs praises to you, whispered and halting, punctuated by grunts and moans as he moves. He tells you how beautiful you are, how he's liked you since he first met you, how he hasn't thought of anything or anyone but you since. He details exactly what he thought when he saw you drenched in water, and saw your form beneath the shirt.
You're squeezing him so tight, giving him little cries in his ear that spur him on. You shift back slightly, your hips tilting to meet his thrusts, swiveling down and up as you search out your release. Frankie braces one hand against the counter, grips the back of your knee with the other. He lifts your leg and pushes, leaning your upper body against the mirror and wall as he hooks your leg over his shoulder. He tiptoes, leaning down into you.
The new angle makes you writhe against him, a choked groan tumbling from you. You mutter his name, still clinging to his back.
And then he fucks you.
It's fast and hard, and there's sweat and slick drenching your thighs while he pounds into your tight cunt. He bites at your neck where his head has fallen, teeth digging into you as he moans.
Your hand falls away from his back, flutters down to your clit where you circle it feverishly. "Frankie," you gasp. "Frankie, I'm gonna-"
"That's it, baby. That's it. Cum for me." He licks at your neck, lifts his head to watch you touch yourself. The sight has him tipping over the edge. His balls tighten and he gasps, the release spilling out of him so forcefully that he grips your head, fingers curling in the hair at your scalp as he struggles to hold on.
You clench around him suddenly, hips stuttering, mouth falling open as you pulse around him. He pumps a few more times, cock twitching inside you as he rides out his orgasm. Your body vibrates against him, your own release sending you soaring. He waits patiently for you to relax against him as he comes down.
The two of you stay still for a minute, struggling to catch your breath. He pulls away enough to press his sweaty forehead to yours and lowers your leg carefully. He nearly laughs when he sees the sated, blissful smile on your face. You look happy. And the fact that he did that? Well, Frankie's not used to feeling pride, but he could get fucking used to it if you'd let him.
He lets go of your hair, his fingers aching with how tightly he'd gripped you. He murmurs an apology to which you quickly shake your head, nose brushing against his. Your chest is still heaving as you work to even your breathing. It pulls his gaze once more and he notices then the indentations the suit had left on you. He bends before he can comprehend it, pressing his lips to the angry marks outlining your breasts and crawling up your neck where the straps had been tied so tightly.
You huff out a nervous laugh at his antics, fingers running through his hair absently.
"I hope that was… um, okay?" You say, avoiding his eyes when he straightens to look at you. You look so embarrassed- it's the cutest fucking thing he's ever seen.
"More than okay. Fucking amazing," he assures you, voice deep and raspy. He reaches up to trace your lips tenderly. "And, if you want, we can try it again sometime. In bed."
You laugh, muscles tightening around him with the action. He grunts, hips jerking back. He was still inside you, limp, but growing hard again- still, the sudden pressure around his cock was overwhelming.
You scramble back on the counter, apologizing profusely as he eases himself out. He shushes you by kissing you once more, this time letting his mouth linger on yours. It lasts a while, and it's nice. It soothes you, draws you back into him so that your hand ghosts up his chest to circle gently around the back of his neck.
BAM, BAM, BAM!!!
"You two better hurry the fuck up- I gotta piss!"
You stare at each other, eyes wide at Ben's shout. You hear him shuffle away from the bathroom door, grumbling "Hope you used a condom."
You blink and then...
And then you burst out laughing, Frankie joining in only when he sees the way your eyes crinkle and how you toss your head back, shoulders lifting in mirth.
Best fucking barbecue ever.
381 notes · View notes