#frankie morales/reader

[frannyzooey]

Down the Hall

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Tags: Explicit, age gap because you know what I'm about (Frankie is your mom’s boyfriend, he is in his 40s, you are in your mid-20s)

A/N: Yea….so this is dedicated to @intheorangebedroom who inspired this entire idea and to @whatsnewalycat whose beautiful brain and writing inspired me as well. Thank you to @astroboots for cheering me on, to @bageldaddy for the super in depth beta and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who soothed by "does this hit" worries — your minds are golden and I am so happy you support this utter filth. Ily ❤️

He thought that dating someone his own age would ground him, steady him. Not that he ever paid much attention to the age of the women he dated, but he thought with someone who had their own shit figured out, he might be inspired to do the same. 

Unmoored and unattached since he joined the army in his twenties, he was pushing forty now and craved some kind of routine. Living alone gave him too much time for thinking, too many hours spent inside his own head. He knew that living like that for too long could lead to bad decisions and thought he might hold himself to a higher standard when he saw how they held themselves to one. 

He met her at a bar – the most cliche of meeting places, but for good reason. She was out with friends after work and from the start, he was attracted to the way she smiled with her whole mouth. Everything about her seemed sensuous and fun, so inviting that he found himself drawn in and when he asked if he could take the seat next to her, he matched her smile with one of his own. 

When she invited him home that night, he buried himself deep while feasting on that generous mouth. 

He stayed that night, and then one night became twice a week, became three – and before he knew it, his lease was up on his apartment and he moved in. It was nice to come home to someone after work. To know that someone was there, wondering how his day went. To have a warm body curled up next to him in bed. 

She was so independent, so driven. A corporate job that required her to dress in slippery blouses and pretty skirts with heels; the same he loved to strip from her when she came home all stressed out the way she did sometimes. And she had a kid – a daughter – already in college somewhere on the east coast, but that didn’t bother him. Dating in his forties meant people already had their own histories, and he was no exception. 

Sometimes after she fell asleep and he had time alone to think, he still felt something that itched beneath his skin. Something that pulled at him from within, something that remained unsettled. He told himself that it was just an adjustment period after so many years of being unattached, and shoved those feelings deep down inside of him, determined to ignore them until he taught himself a new way to live. 

Her breathing deep and steady beside him, he told himself that she was good for him. 

That was what counted.

He was all for it when she told him her daughter was coming home to stay the summer between semesters. He liked the idea of having another person in the house – another distraction, another responsibility to take him out of his own head. 

He worked odd hours, and during his off days, Frankie took up the task of preparing her daughter’s old room. Light pink walls, a creamy bedspread dotted with delicate flowers: his mind supplied an automatic image of the little girl that lined the hallway in frames. He knew she was older than that now, but the way her mom talked about her, he couldn’t help imagining a little kid. 

Tasked with picking her up from the airport the day she arrived, he had just stepped out of the shower when he heard the doorbell. Frowning, he tugged a shirt over his damp curls, and opened the door.

Jesus Christ. Speechless, he stared at the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. 

“Sorry I didn’t call,” you apologized, tugging a heavy bag higher up on your shoulder. “I got in early and thought an Uber would be faster.”

He stood there for a moment, just staring, his mouth slightly parted in confusion. And then he saw it: the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lush mouth. The resemblance stamped across your delicate features.

“I couldn’t find my key.” You stood there, looking uneasy on your own doorstep. “You must be Frankie. Or is it Francisco? My mom said you’d be here. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the rounded sound of his full name coming from your mouth, his gaze snapped back to meet your eyes while you hung there, clearly waiting for him to say something. His body was slow to catch up with his brain, the little girl his mind supplied was gone, replaced by the vision that stood in front of him. Still young and fresh-faced, but grown nonetheless and so, so fucking beautiful. 

When you gestured towards the house behind him, he finally shook himself from the initial shock.

“Shit,” he apologized, stepping back out of your way. “Yea, it’s Frankie. Nice to meet you.” You gave him a half smile, and when you stepped inside, he reached for your bag. “Here, let me grab that.”

His hand dragging through his curls, he stood in the entryway and watched you make yourself at home: your shoes immediately kicked off on the doormat, your jacket hung neatly next to his own like it had always belonged there. 

“Do you know when my mom gets home?”

He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the length of your legs underneath the hem of your shorts. “Uh, she said probably around six? That’s when she usually gets home.”

You nodded, holding your hand out for your bag and for a split second, he wondered if he should bring it upstairs for you. It would be the polite thing to do, but the idea of entering your room now felt like overstepping. You weren’t a kid, you didn’t need him like that. The boundaries had suddenly blurred and shifted, and he whisked away the image of you settling into your bedroom just as fast as it popped into his head. 

When you grabbed the bag from him, he felt relief. 

It was easy to avoid you for the afternoon while you got settled. Instead, he mowed the lawn, prepared dinner, all the while with his ears attuned to the sound of you walking around above him. He felt on edge, anxious. The excitement he thought he would feel with someone else in the house had turned into unease. 

He made himself an outsider, even more so when your mom came home. Not wanting to intrude on your time together, he stayed in the kitchen to cook dinner for the two of you and delivered it to the living room, placing your plates on the coffee table. 

“Thank you, baby, that’s so nice.” Your mother scooted forward, tilting her chin up towards him in a silent request for a kiss. 

Granting it to her, he felt her familiar hold slip around the back of his neck to keep him in place for a moment, keenly aware of the way you were right there. For a split second while his lips were still on hers, he glanced up at you and it was clear that he caught you watching by the way you hastily looked away the second he met your eyes. 

He fucked her hard that night, his hand over her mouth so you wouldn’t hear. 

She was gone in the morning when he made his way downstairs, and he was pleasantly surprised to find coffee already in the pot. 

“I made extra,” you said, from your perch on the chair at the table. Sleep shorts high on your thighs, an oversized tee shirt covering your top half. The way it engulfed you made you look younger than you were. 

He looked away, busying himself with pouring a cup. 

“I drink a lot, so I made a lot,” you explained with shy self-deprecation. 

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, sitting down at the table. “Got any plans for today? Or for the summer, I guess?” 

Wading the tentative waters of getting to know someone, he watched your fingers play with the edge of the paper. 

“Just relax for a bit, I think? Catch up with some old friends? No plan really. I just didn’t want to hang out on a deserted campus.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.” 

And so began the morning routine you would both share for the next few weeks. Hesitant and quiet around each other in the beginning, sliding into something normal fairly fast. Your mother was early to rise and early to bed, but he had never been and neither were you. 

He joined you in the late morning at the kitchen table, the curve of your soft cheek highlighted in the slant of light through the window. On the couch at night, a different kind of illumination from the light of the TV, yet hitting your cheek just the same. Your things scattered around the living room, your toothbrush next to his in the bathroom, your clothes mixed with his in the wash. 

Your proximity was what he blamed for the constant thoughts he had about you. 

Every morning he admired how rumpled you looked, how sleepy and soft and inviting. It was endearing, but soon other thoughts edged out the more innocent ones: thoughts about your legs wrapped around his waist, your slender fingers wrapped around something other than a coffee cup. 

The want he felt for you pooled in various places inside him: his brain, his chest, between his thighs. It spilled down the shower drain and spilled hot across his stomach. 

It flooded your mother’s mouth, and she was none the wiser.

Afterwards, she tucked her face into the meat of his shoulder, pressing a kiss against the skin there. Sated and content, she curled herself around him. “Let’s do something this weekend together. Actually make use of that pool we have for once.”

A barbecue. She’d been talking about having one for a while. 

“We’ve been working so hard. I feel like I barely even see you, honey.” 

Something akin to guilt tugged at him, thinking of the shifts he had been picking up in an effort to avoid you. Your eyes, your smile, your stupid sleep shorts.

He hummed his agreement and she kissed him in thanks, her breaths eventually evening out as she fell asleep. 

Frankie lay awake, the image of your closed bedroom door stuck in his mind. 

–

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured as you watched Frankie climb out of the pool. 

Broad, bare shoulders, tanned swathes of skin, cute little dimples just above his ass. Water ran down over his tanned skin, the thin material of his swim shorts stuck to his ass and when he turned around to grab a towel off a nearby chair, you were glad for your sunglasses.

Fuck me. 

The material of his shorts molded to every inch of his thick cock, the shape clearly outlined. Oblivious, he ran the towel over his curls, over his shoulders and arms, down his torso – and when his hand gingerly pulled the material away from his crotch, you memorized the swirl of dark hair that surrounded his navel and led down.  

“Can you help me with the grill, honey?”

Your mom’s voice pulled your attention away from him. 

Her boyfriend, you reminded yourself. Frankie was her boyfriend.

“Yea,” he called back, chucking his towel on the chair. “Be right there. Let me put a shirt on.”

The shirt he shrugged over his head was the same one you folded that morning. The material was threadbare and super soft, the muscles of his back shifting underneath the thin fabric as he sauntered over to the grill. You knew the way it felt in your hands, and at the thought of his body heat through the material, you pressed your thighs together. 

The afternoon sun bathed you in warmth, but it was nothing compared to the heat that pooled inside your bottoms as you continued to watch him from your recline by the pool. His brown curls glinted in the sun, his throat bobbing with a swallow when your mother brought him a beer. 

When his eyes flashed over to you, you finally looked away. 

You saw those deep, doleful brown eyes in your sleep. 

You felt them on you all the time: in the dark living room during family movie time, your mother curled up against his side. In the kitchen after dinner, when you loaded the dishwasher while he put away the food. In the mornings, when you pretended to read the paper while he snuck hooded peeks at you and drank you in. 

Startled by his handsomeness from the very first time you laid eyes on him, your crush only grew with every passing day spent in his company. He was so thoughtful, so attentive and kind, but it was something else buried within his gaze that drew you in. 

A barely restrained want that shone clear on his face every time he looked at you. A need simmering under the surface, you saw the way he fought it. 

You thought about him constantly: imagined him crowding you against the counter in the kitchen, saw him pulling back the shower curtain to join you, pretended your fingers were his in your bed at night. 

Born out of your own need, you pushed him. Played with the limits of his self control, desperate for him to make a move. No action overt enough to be blatant, the way he stared at you made you feel confident, bold. The want pouring off his skin when you hung around him was obvious and thick, filling the space between the two of you until he inevitably excused himself. 

When it’s time to eat, you take a seat next to him on the bench, your thigh pressed hot against his. You waited for him to pull away, but he never did and the intimate sensation of the hair on his leg brushing against your own smoother skin made it hard to eat, though you missed it when he got up. 

Your mother, one margarita too many and giggly and loose, pulled him into a dance under the stars that had just begun to come out. He humored her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close, smiling at every murmured secret she slipped into his ear. 

You watched the scene unfold right in front of you with a fond, humoring expression, and his eyes kept finding yours, flashing in the darkness. 

You pretended nonchalance, but the entire time, you wanted. 

He took her to bed while you cleaned up the kitchen. 

You knew he fucked her – you heard it sometimes. They tried to be quiet for your sake but sometimes a whimper would slip down the hall, the deep reverberation of a groan in the dark. 

Climbing into bed that night, your mind lingered on the image of his wet swim trunks. The dark swirl of hair, the heft in the outline. 

You wondered what he fucked like with a cock like that. 

–

“Something’s going on in the Arizona market,” your mom explained, tossing items into her suitcase. A silk blouse spilled over the side, and you tucked it back in with the rest. “I’ll be gone through Thursday, maybe Friday? Hopefully not the weekend, but I’ll let you know.”

“Do you need a ride to the airport?” 

Smiling at you, she stepped forward and cupped your cheek with her hand for a moment. “That’s sweet, honey, but I’m good. Frankie’s got it.”

Apprehension swirled with anticipation, the joint feelings settled low in your gut. You’d been alone with him before, but never for this long. Never truly alone, for days on end. 

The man himself poked his head around the corner of the doorway, the width of his shoulders filling out the frame. He glanced at you, and then his watch. “You about ready, baby?” 

She bustled around the room, tossing things here and there onto the bed and he looked at you again, a slight frown pulling between his brows. 

His expression gave something akin to frustration, and for a split second, you thought it was because of the time your mom was taking. When you felt his dark eyes drop down the length of your body involuntarily and then back up again, you turned away with a small smile, knowing it to be something else. 

–

For the first couple days, he stayed away from the house as much as he could. Kept his distance until he ran out of errands, until he drove down the same stretch of road too many times. He didn’t trust himself to be alone with you, and he hated himself for it. 

Self loathing creeped in every time he thought about the way his jeans tightened even thinking of you alone in the house. His girlfriend’s fucking daughter, half his age. The whole thing was fucked up. 

And yet, he couldn’t stop. 

He felt bad, thinking of you suddenly being all alone after spending so much time with people around, but he told himself that you probably loved having the space to yourself. 

He came in the shower that morning to the thought of your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, and he was unable to look you in the eye when he saw you in the kitchen afterward. Your hopeful expression lingered in his mind all day as he stretched out the hours. 

The sky turned from light blue to dark, and he finally caved. He couldn’t stay away forever. 

The house was quiet when he walked in, tossing his keys on the entryway table. He crept around, looking for any sign of your presence, until he heard the shower running upstairs. Light spilled down the staircase, and heading into the kitchen, he tried to push down the thoughts running rampant in his head. 

He drank a glass of water, listening. 

The shower turning off (your naked body, damp and warm), your footsteps padding down the hall (that smooth skin, hidden under your towel), your bedroom door shutting (the towel dropping onto your floor). 

He stayed downstairs, turning the TV on to distract himself, the air in the house charged with a magnetic pull from your room. He waited until there had been nothing but silence for the better part of a half hour, then dared to venture upstairs. 

He’d just say goodnight, that’s all. Just so you knew you weren’t alone. 

His knuckles rapped against your door, and he pushed it open when he heard you say come in. 

“Hey,” you greeted him, slight surprise on your face. Stretched out in bed, the inviting cloud of your comforter was plush underneath your body. You paused the movie you were watching, and sat up on your elbows. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days.”

“Yea,” he replied, leaning against the frame of your door. His eyes followed a slow path up your bare legs. 

“Work been crazy or something?” you asked.

“Something like that, yea,” he answered. His hand stayed on the knob of your door, an anchor that kept him from crossing a line. “I actually just stopped by to say goodnight. I’m gonna turn in.”

“Already?” you teased. “It’s pretty early, isn’t it? Aren’t you gonna live it up while my mom is gone?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve lived it up enough. I’m an old man, remember? We don’t do that kind of stuff.”

“Forty-five is hardly an old man,” you scolded with a smile. “You wanna watch a movie instead?”

You patted the bed next to you, and his face sobered. You didn’t see it, instead reaching for the lotion on your bedside table to work some into your hands and the image of you jerking his cock with that same lotion flashed across his mind. He frowned. 

“In here?” 

You shrugged, laying back down. “I mean, I’m already all set up in here…”

You left the offer hanging, and even though he knew - he fucking knew he shouldn’t - he found himself nodding. 

You looked surprised at his answer for a split second, and then pleased. 

“Let me go get changed.”

He walked down the hall towards his room, scolding himself the entire time. Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t go back into that fucking room. Don’t think about how smooth her skin is and how much you want to kiss her.  Don’t think about how her sheets smell like her, don’t think about how much you want to lick her cunt. 

The thoughts ran on a loop as he peeled off his work clothes. 

They echoed in his head as he pulled on his sweats. 

They followed him out of his bedroom and all the way down the hall, stopping at your doorway.

You turned your head, looking at him expectantly, looking so fucking lush and innocent, so eager to have him join you. 

He swallowed hard, mouth watering and left his guilt in the hallway, joining you in bed.

–

Pretending to ignore the heavy blanket of tension pulsing between your bodies, you kept your eyes fixed on the screen. 

Stretched out next to you, he kept a respectable distance, but you felt the heat that poured off of his skin. He looked so large in your bed, so much like a man. His long limbs splayed out over your girlish comforter, his masculine scent filled the space and when he crossed his arms, you admired the way the hem of his sleeve stretched around his bicep. 

Lightheaded and trembling with a heady want that ached between your thighs, you made it through the whole movie – until the room descended into darkness, until the credits rolled and the screen went black  

Until it was just the two of you sitting side by side in the dark. 

The sheets rustled when you rolled onto your side to face him. 

“What did you think?” you asked quietly. 

He looked down at you from his slouch on the bed, and your fingers twitched with the need to smooth away the crease that rested permanently between his brows. You would think he was mad if not for his eyes: those always look conflicted more than anything. Constant turmoil, roiling deep within the dark depths. 

Not answering, he stared down at you for a long moment before shrugging. 

“Okay, I guess. Well, have a good night.”

He then started to slide off the bed. 

Disappointment flooded your chest, the tension that you’d been feeling for the last two hours releasing restlessly through your limbs. Already making plans to get your vibrator from your side table to use while burying your face into the sheets he was just sitting on, he stilled. 

Your eyes fixed on his broad back, you could almost see the decision being made and he quickly turned before he could convince himself to stop. 

Bending down, he kissed you. 

It was consuming. The brush of his mustache, the taste of his mouth, the weight of his solid body as he pushed you into the bedding, draping it over yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth to slide against your own, and he swallowed the soft sound that caught in the back of your throat. Pushing himself into the cradle between your thighs, he forced them open wider as he deepened the kiss, and his dry, calloused hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt, wrapping around your hip. 

You knew you should push him away, but your hands only dragged him closer, grabbing everything you could touch: the slip of his curls, the curve of his whiskered jaw, the rounds of his broad shoulders. You dug your fingertips into his sides as he ground his hips against yours and your knees hitched higher around his torso. 

His hand wrapped around the top of your shin, pushing down to hold you in place.  

“Jesus,” he breathed into your mouth between kisses, his fingers tightening in their hold before sliding down to touch everything he can: the meat of your hips, his big hand cupping your ass with a greedy squeeze. Need rolled off of him in waves, his touch betraying just how long he had thought about this and his mouth shifted down to devour the long line of your neck, tasting the sweet hollow of your throat. 

Your pulse beat fast under his tongue, speeding up when he let out a groan against the sensitive skin. 

“Take – take this off–” he sat back on his ankles, his hands fumbling with your shirt.

As soon as you pulled it over your head, his mouth latched onto your nipple. His tongue swirled around it, sliding over the peaked bud with a suck. His beard scraped across your sensitive skin, leaving a wet path that glistened over the plane of your chest as he dragged his mouth to your other breast and his heavy hand reached down to cup you wholly over your sleep shorts. 

His fingers dug into the dip of your entrance and the heel of his hand ground hard against your clit. 

“I can’t stop thinking about this pussy,” he confessed. His fingers rubbed harder, and he groaned hot against your skin. “I can already feel how soaked she is for me. How much she wants it.”

You nodded with a whimper, rolling your hips into his touch. “God yes. Please.”

He pulled back just enough to stare down at your face, his pitch black eyes sliding over your features to settle on your open mouth. “Tell me you want this. Tell me how much you want my cock.”

“Yes. Please, please,” you begged.

“It’s gonna be a lot, baby.” He wetted his bottom lip with his tongue, his hand working, working, working. “She’s gonna need to be wet to take what I need her to take.”

A fresh wave of arousal washed through you, and your sleep shorts clung to your center with every grind of his palm. His thick fingers nudged the fabric to the side, exploring. 

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, releasing a heavy breath. “Fuck.” 

His eyes fluttered shut with a frown as his touch slid through your soaked seam and kissing you again, he timed the slide of his tongue with the slick stretch of two fingers. 

Your thighs opened wider around his waist, a whine crawling out of your throat when he pushed them deeper and when he started a smooth, audible stroke, you started to ride his hand. 

You’d been watching his fingers for months: wrapped around the steering wheel in the car, loosely cradling the neck of a beer bottle, drumming against his thigh when he watched TV sometimes. You’d imagined them tucked inside you so many times, buried in your mouth or your cunt, and as he worked a third one in, you let out a filthy moan. 

“I gotta work it open, baby,” he soothed, pulling your earlobe between his lips. “It’ll be okay. I know you can take it.”

His hips started to follow the rhythmic roll of his hand and when he seemed satisfied with how much you could take, he slid his fingers out, reaching to tear his shirt off over his head. When he pushed his fingers into his mouth for a moment, his lips wrapping around his knuckles as he sucked your taste off the thick digits, his hooded eyes took in the way you scrambled to take your sleep shorts off. 

Following your lead, he dumped everything onto the floor beside your bed, and it felt like heaven when you felt his bare skin against the inside of your thighs. So broad, so firm and strong, his body pressed you into the mattress and you felt the hot, pulsing heft of his cock pushing against your cunt. You clenched at the teasing sensation of what was to come, and reached down to grasp him, but his hand caught yours and pushed it into the bedding above your head. 

“Let me do it. I wanna watch your face when I put it in,” he confessed, resting his weight on top of you as he reached down with his other hand to guide himself in. 

Sticky slick smeared between the both of you, and when the tip of his cock forced you to bloom around him, his eyes fixed on your face. Greedily, he devoured the sight of your mouth dropping open, a tiny tiny frown appearing between your brows and he thickened inside you, pushing forward.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “It’s so much.” So much more than you ever thought it would be, even with all the months spent imagining it. 

He bottomed out and the air froze in your lungs, your cunt stuffed fuller than it’s ever been. 

“Shhh,” he soothed, staying in place to let you adjust. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re so fucking tight, baby. So tight.”

Squirming underneath him, you hitched your knees higher around his torso and he rocked his hips to slide halfway out before grinding back in with a weighted push. He gave you a minute: a tense minute, a minute thick and full of wanting, a minute where all you could focus on was the stretch of his cock and the heated bulk of his body and the firmness of his chest pressed against yours. 

He brushed his lips against yours, and gently rolled his hips. 

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about this? About fucking you, in this bed?” His voice deep and breathless, it sounded overwhelmingly intimate breathed against your cheek. 

You shook your head. 

“I thought I was the only one,” you admitted. “I used to think – oh fuck – I used to think about you coming down the hallway in the night. Crawling into my bed and fucking me just like this. Just like I can hear you fuck her.”

“You listen to me fuck her?” His hips rocked forward a little faster, picking up pace. 

“I can’t help it,” you whined. “The sounds – the sounds you make. I wanted to make you make them. I wanted to be the reason.”

His fingers pushed through the hold of your own, locking your hands together above your head and he dug his knees into the bed for leverage. Your breasts shifted underneath him, bouncing lightly as he fucked into you harder and his eyes dropped down to watch. “You are, baby. You are. I think about you all the time.”

Building steadily underneath him, your head pushed back into the bedding and his mouth found your throat, his teeth scraping against the tender skin. His hips never stopping their filling grind, you pushed your fingers through his curls and when he bit down with a suck, a slurred yes slipped out of your outstretched throat. 

You imagined your mom seeing it, asking you if you went on a date with someone. 

His strokes got harder, harsher, his hips snapping against yours and digging your fingers into the soft globes of his ass, you forced him deeper. When you clenched around his thick length, he looked down at you, wrecked and desperate. 

“I wish I tasted you,” he groaned. “Next time, okay?”

You frantically nodded, unable to focus on anything but the bright, shining edge of your release. 

He could see it, feel it in the squeeze of your soaked cunt and his vision blurred around the edges, his own want building at the base of his spine. 

“You gonna come?”

You are. The sounds he’s making above you and the way he feels inside you and the scent and need rolling off his skin and those fucking pitch black eyes that have been in your dreams for months – 

Slick dripped down the curve of your ass, your hips locking up underneath him and when you came with a silent cry, he groaned deep and loud, fucking you right through it. 

“Tell me I can fucking come inside you. Say it,” he pleaded, fingers gripped on your chin to hold your gaze on his. His words punctuated by the snap of his hips, you nod your head. 

“Do it,” you whined.

Your fingers threaded through his curls, it’s the tug that you give that does it. Coming harder than he had in his fucking life, he filled your tight cunt with thick ropes of his spend. Endless, smeared over the shaft of his thick cock as he continued to pump into you because he couldn’t stop, slipping out to drip onto the delicate sheets below. 

“Christ,” he groaned, his jaw clenched as the veins in his neck strained above you, his hips stuttering. Slowing them into a languid roll against your own, his softening cock was still a thick, filling weight inside and when he looked down at you, you recognized the guilt that already flooded the brown depths. 

You stared right back, holding him tight. 

“Stay,” you murmured, holding him in place when he started to roll off of you. 

You wanted to remember this. The hot press of his skin against yours, tacky and slick with sweat. The warm gust of his breath over your lips, the rapid beat of his pulse under his flushed neck. The wild curls that stuck damply along his hairline, the brush of his fingers as he tenderly thumbed at the curve of your jaw. 

He swallowed and you could see the war in his eyes, something you recognized as being there from the start. His hand curled over the crown of your head, and you pressed a kiss to his throat. 

“You can’t –” he started, eyes fluttering shut at the press of your mouth. “You can’t tell your mom about this, okay. We can’t say anything.”

We. You reveled in the sound of the word, your head nodding underneath him. A secret to share. Something for the two of you alone. 

“I won’t,” you promised. “Just don’t leave, okay?”

You felt small and vulnerable asking, and when he looked down at you, a glimpse of the girl he imagined on that very first day tugged at his memory. Not the age he pictured of course, but the way you needed him. 

The way he wanted you to need him all along. 

His face nuzzled yours, his nose sliding across your cheek. A kiss pressed against the soft, youthful curve of your cheek that he had admired for months, he nodded with your sweet taste still lingering on his tongue. 

“I won’t, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 36: The End **

I am glad you are here with me, here at the end of all things, Sam. Frodo Baggins - The Return of the King

Series Master List

Epilogue Warnings have their own post - Word count: 17.5k (I saved the longest for last 😊)

Having electricity wasn’t a new thing to you both, the QZ’s had electricity, albeit black outs where common. But electricity in Jackson, in a community where everyone worked towards a common goal of making things better, it was like a return to a more normal life. Supplies were still scarce, daily hunting trips a necessity, but suddenly you could cook food, freeze it, preserve it and lay away stores for the winter. A large cold storage had already been built and as the summer drew to an end and the trees started to shift in color, it was being filled with the harvest of the community garden and the berries collected in the wild during hunting trips. And all the projects picked up speed when power tools could be maintained and used. Although Frankie cursed the raw blisters on his hands after he and a few other of the strongest men had worked at felling trees by hand, fuel was still a rarity so axes had to be used for that.

But it was also the simple act of coming home and the house, yours and Frankie’s house, being lit up by lamps, the warmth hitting you as you opened the door and the smell of cooking drifted out along with music, actual vinyl record music.

You poke your head around the corner, into the living room, and find Frankie hunched over, holding on to Jack’s chubby hands, as the baby’s unsteady legs wobble with each step.

“C’mon, Jack, look at you go!” Frankie smiles, “You’ll be walking in no time, gordito!”

Jack gurgled, grinning widely, proudly showing his two tiny teeth, the sources of many sleepless nights lately. Frankie looks up as you step into the room, turning Jack around to face you.

“C’mon, Jackie, walk to your mamá, show her how good you are,” he gives you a wide grin, “He’s been standing up all afternoon, holding onto the couch.”

“You’re growing so fast, Jack,” you smile, crouching down as he wobbles towards you, holding onto Frankie’s hands. The baby stumbles into your chest and grabs onto your hair as you pick him up, holding him tight and kissing his chubby cheek. Being Jack’s mamá had become second nature, the little boy inserting himself into your life just as easily as Frankie and you had settled in Jackson.

You’d worried briefly over how Frankie would fare with sleepless nights, his nightmares and troubled sleep hadn’t gone away. But it was as if his body clicked into another gear, remembering sleepless nights with his own daughter. He’d be wide awake as soon as Jack whimpered, out of the bed and picking him up before you’d barely opened your eyes. Half asleep you’d listen as Frankie padded around the room across the hall, soothing Jack, singing endless renditions of Arroz con Leche until even you knew it by heart. On the nights when Jack just wouldn’t settle, Frankie would take him downstairs, heat up some baby food, usually berries with some sweet honey, and wander through the house with Jack in his arms until he fell asleep again. And then he’d tuck Jack back in and you’d briefly wake up as he slipped under the covers, reaching out and curling himself around you. You’d grumble as his cold skin met your bed warm body but he’d just bury his face in your neck, inhaling deeply as your hair tickled his nose. It would put you right back to sleep, his body slowly warming up, his arms around you and his hand in yours as you felt his hot breath over your neck.

It was the most domestic it had ever felt since the outbreak, sometimes you woke up forgetting it had even happened. You’d blink your eyes open to sunlight filtering in through the curtains, a soft pillow under you, Frankie’s arm around you and clean sheets and blankets on top. If Frankie had snuck up and left the bed before you woke up, you’d smell breakfast from downstairs, frying eggs, warm bread, even jam. The crackle of the fireplace would drift up to you as you pulled your robe on and walked on bare feet down the stairs. You’d stop at the entrance to the kitchen, just like you did when you came home, and just take in the sight of Frankie, your husband, making breakfast for Jack, your son, like it was the most normal thing to do and the outbreak had never happened. It made your heart warm and you could watch the scene for hours. But it also made you realize how much you had to lose, now more than ever, and it scared you. You knew both you and Frankie would fight tooth and nail to protect this life that Jackson offered its small, but growing, population, because this was worth fighting for, more than just fighting for Frankie and yourself.

…

The first time Pat took you and Frankie up to the radio tower it was a beautiful morning. You’d left baby Jack with Maria before heading out. The first snow had fallen over Jackson and the surrounding mountains overnight and the weather had turned properly cold. It had taken longer than planned to get out to the radio tower, many things needed to be prepared before the winter in order for the community to survive. With the electricity up and running, alot projects took priority. Houses were mended and isolated, two women with medical training needed help setting up a small clinic, the stable had to be completed and isolated. On top of that were the necessary and constant patrols and guard shifts almost everyone had to participate in as well as going hunting with Pat.

But now, finally, you were on your way up to the radio tower to see if the radio could be made to work. If not, Pat thought it would be good to have a safe house on one of the patrol routes where patrols could seek shelter if they needed too. With you was another Jackson resident, an older man called Eugene. He was a former electrical engineer and to be honest, you thought your participation on this mission might be pointless, if Eugene couldn’t fix the radio, you didn’t think you’d be able to either.

The entire radio tower compound had at some point been surrounded by a chain link fence with barbed wire on top. It looked in pretty bad disrepair by now and was pulled down in places.

“It’d be good if we could get that fixed,” Pat says, looking at the fence, “get a gate in place and make this place a bit more secure.”

“Yeah,” Frankie nodded, “we still have plenty of fence and barbed wire down in the Jackson HomeDepot, pretty sure we could build a gate too.”

You were on Winston together with Frankie for this ride. You were slowly learning to be a better rider and had been practicing whenever you had time, but you preferred riding with Frankie when you had to go outside Jackson. You felt safe sitting in front of him, he had one steady arm around your waist, the other holding the reins. Now you feel him move his hips and nudge Winston onwards, through the main gates and into the small yard in front of the entrance.

“Has anyone been into the radio tower recently?” Frankie asks, looking at the door that’s hanging off its frame and half open.

“No, not since we first came up here,” Pat says as he swings himself off his horse after stopping by the fence, “We’re going to need to clear it out carefully.”

Frankie keeps an eye on the door as Eugene gets off his horse but makes no move to let you get off, “Was the door always open?” he asks, pulling the rifle from its holster and Pat turns around, furrowing his forehead as he looks at the door.

“We had to break it open when we first came up here, but I’m sure we closed it when we left.”

You can feel Frankie tense up behind you as Pat carefully approaches the door, gun raised. He bends and picks up a brick from the ground and tosses it in through the door. A shriek cuts through the air, making the horses skittish, and then the tell tale sound of a clicker.

“Fuck…” Frankie breathes behind you and Pat hastily retreats and swings himself up on his horse. You’ve got your gun raised too now and when the door slams open, the clicker is hit with several rounds, two shots exploding through its head, making it drop on the ground.

All four of you sit in silence, waiting to hear if something else stirs on the inside. After a few minutes Pat gets off his horse again and approaches the door, you can’t help but wonder if he’s really brave or really stupid, but he nudges the dead clicker out of the way and shines his torch into the darkness.

Behind you, you feel Frankie press a kiss to the side of your neck, “Stay here, cariño,” he whispers before he slides off and quietly walks up behind Pat, joined by Eugene, who’s also gotten off his horse again.

“If I remember correctly, there’s a light switch just inside here,” Pat says, and feels around just inside the door. It clicks and the room fills with light and nothing stirs. Frankie waves you towards him and you tie up Winston and join them.

“Eugene, no offense,” Pat says, “but you’re the oldest and least nimble here, could you stay and watch our backs?”

“No offense taken,” Eugene chuckles and takes up post at the door, looking out at the horses and the front yard while Frankie, you and Pat move towards the inner door. It’s a wide double door and it’s undisturbed.

“We did close this one too, hopefully nothing else got in,” Pat says in a low voice as he reaches for it. It opens without issue and nothing moves on the other side. Silently and carefully the three of you go through the building, clearing out rooms and gathering any supplies you come across until you reach the main radio room on the second floor.

“This seems to be the way we left it too,” Pat says and you walk over to the radio. It’s not a military radio but it’s different from the one you worked on in Boston but it doesn’t take you and Frankie long to start it up. The electricity cables from the Jackson Dam run up here too and the console hums to life, but when you flip the switches to receive or broadcast, all you hear is silence, not even static.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you say, “but if you could check all the wires Frankie, and I’ll check that equipment does what it should.”

“Sure, cariño,” Frankie says and while Pat scans the top floor for any supplies, you and Frankie work through the radio.

“I’m gonna go get Eugene,” you finally sigh, on your back underneath the console, “I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong if all the wires are connected and all the equipment works, something else is up.”

“Ok, I’m just gonna double check the connection from the outside, up on the radio tower,” Frankie says as he gives you a hand up from the floor. You jog down the stairs and back towards the front door. Perplexed, you stop by it and look around, Eugene isn’t there but you can’t see any other footsteps in the snow so you turn and look into the building, his snow covered footprints are moving off towards one of the rooms you cleared coming in.

“Eugene?” you call, walking towards the back. You’ve cleared this area so you’re not too worried, but there’s always a risk of the crumbling building deciding to collapse a floor or a ceiling on any explorer. There’s a door you haven’t seen before, half open at the back of a hallway and you carefully poke your head through it. You can see a set of stairs going down and a flashlight moving around in the dark.

“Eugene, you ok?” you call and to your relief you hear Eugene’s voice come back up to you.

“Yeah, yeah, just checking this basement, the door was locked but I got through it. It’s pretty empty down here though.”

“Ok, just come up when you can, we need you to check the radio,” you call back down to him.

“Right, I'll be there in a jiffy.”

You hear it as you turn, the fast, uneven scrambling of feet behind you making your adrenaline spike. The infected runner bolts through the open front door and immediately sees you, launching itself at you with a shriek. Your hand goes for your gun and… you grasp at nothing, panic shoots through you as you realize it’s on the table upstairs where you left it before you crawled under the table.

“Frankie!” you scream as the infected runs down the hallway and you back up, through the basement door, barely slamming it shut in time. But the broken lock won’t let the door close and the runner's hands are scratching through the opening, pushing it back. With a cry you stumble back as it throws itself against the door and get it open. You lose your balance and tumble down the stairs, a sharp pain shoots through your head as you slam down against the first landing. You fight to keep your eyes open, a haze overtaking you, but the infected screeches and runs down the stairs. It’s on top of you in an instance and you just manage to get your arms up, avoiding its snapping mouth as black dots dance around your vision. As you slip under you hear Frankie roar your name.

Frankie hears you scream, the desperation in your voice cuts through his heart like ice and he almost falls off the ladder as he slides down, dropping everything to get to you. He hears the infected shriek and he roars your name, taking the stairs three steps at a time. He sees the runner shove the door open as he reaches the first floor and hears your scream as you tumble backwards and the loud crack as you hit something on your way down.

He slams through the door and almost falls down the stairs as he tackles the infected, “Get off her,” he roars, wrenching it to the side and shoving his gun point blank to its head, pulling the trigger. The ragged body drops immediately but Frankie doesn’t even register, he’s turned to you, hands roaming over your still body, searching every inch of skin he can reach.

“Did she get bit?” he hears Pat pant from behind but he can’t respond, he’s pulling off your shirt, trying to lift you up without jostling your limp body.

“C’mon cariño, please, please, don’t do this to me, not like this, not like this,” his voice breaks and he grabs your cheek in his hand, the other around your back, carefully sitting you up, cradling you in his arms.

“Put that away, she’s not fucking bit!” he snaps at Pat as he sees the man come around the side, aiming his gun at you. Pat lowers it, your eyes are still closed.

“Please, hermosa, mi vida, I’m here, please don’t leave me,” he caresses your cheek, lightly tapping it to make you wake up, “Don’t go, I can’t…” he whispers, “I can’t lose you,” he bites back the panic that threatens to rise up. “Please, you know I need you more than you need me, that’s how it’s always been. I’m a fucking mess without you, I can’t keep my shit together without you, I need you with me, always, cariño. Fuck, please, just wake up!” He’s rambling as fear fills his chest, making breathing hard. In desperation he gives your shoulder a little shake and suddenly your eyes blink open, with a groan you squeeze them shut again against the bright light of Eugene’s flashlight.

“Frankie…” you mumble and he shushes you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, don’t worry, I’ve got you hermosa, I’ve got you, just don’t scare me like that again.

One of his hands is still feeling as much of your body as he can, lifting your arms and hands, inspecting them while Pat waits, his eyes searching your skin too.

“Cariño, I need to open your shirt,” Frankie says, leaning closer to your ear, “I’m sorry, I have to make sure you…” he trails off, his jaw tightening as he exhales through his nose, “I have to check you for bites,” he grits out, looking into your eyes as you carefully open them again.

“Ok,” you breath out, your voice small and scared and Frankie cups your cheek.

“It’s ok cariño, I won’t let you be alone if that happens, I won't leave you.” Gently he unbuttons your flannel shirt, pushing it off you while trying to not hurt your head, a large bump is already forming at the back. His hands roam across your bare skin, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he finds nothing. Cupping both cheeks with his hands he presses his lips hard against yours, kissing you deeply before pulling back again.

“You’re fine, nothing on you,” he says, releasing your cheek to push a strand of hair behind your ear, “let me check that bump on your head though.”

“The dog will have to check her when we get back, Frankie, you know that,” Pat says, putting his gun back in his holster and Frankie nods while gently probing your head.

“I know, but she’s fine, you can see for yourself.”

Pat takes Eugene upstairs to the radio and Frankie carefully makes you stand up on unsteady legs. You pull your shirt back on and button it as you tell him what happens, Frankie curses Eugene for leaving his post under his breath.

“What the fuck was he gonna do in the basement anyway?” he growls, putting his arm around your waist and leading you back upstairs. On the way past the front door, he stops and closes it, dragging a heavy desk in front of it, “Should’ve just fucking done that from the beginning,” he grumbles.

When you get back upstairs, Frankie insists on you sitting down on the floor, leaning against the wall, while he helps Eugene with the radio. It doesn’t take the old man long to figure out what’s wrong, quickly replacing some sort of mechanism in the back and tweaking it. When Frankie flicks the switch, statics fills the room.

“Let me hail Sean back in Boston,” you say, pushing yourself up from the floor, making Frankie rush over to hook his arm around your waist. You want to tell him to not fuss, but you’re still woozy and your head hurts so you gratefully accept his support.

After a bit of experimentation you find Sean’s frequency, praying he’s still working the radio, that FEDRA hasn’t shut it down, and hail him. After you say ‘Over’ the airwaves go silent and you wait, everyone in the room holding their breath.

“Boston QZ here,” Sean’s distinct voice comes through tinny and shrill but it’s definitely him and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Sean!” you cry out, “It’s so good to hear your voice!”

“What…is…is that really you?” Sean sounds amazed and relieved on the other end. “I thought you were dead, and your Frankie too, you just disappeared, dropped off the face of the earth! Where are you?”

“It’s a long story Sean, and I can’t tell you where we are, in case you know who is listening. But we’re safe, we’re fine, both of us.”

“Well, that’s good to hear, and how’s Frankie, is he doing well?”

“I’m here Sean,” Frankie leans forward and grins into the microphone, “I’m doing good, really great.”

“Oh, I’m so happy to hear that, my dear boy! The last time I saw you, I’m sorry, but you didn’t look well,” You can hear Sean’s smile through the speakers and you give Frankie’s hand a little squeeze.

“I know, Sean, but it’s all good now. And we’ve met some good people here too, so we’re doing good.”

“Listen, Sean,” you say, before Sean can say something else about Frankie’s health, “Can you pass a message to Will and Benny? Let them know we’re alive and well and that we want to schedule a time to talk to them on the radio?”

“Absolutely, of course! I’ll leave the radio station early and go past their place before the curfew tonight.” Sean replies and you hear him scrabble around for something in the background before he comes back on, “I’ll have to leave straight away, it’s almost five thirty here, and the curfew is still at six pm.”

“Thank you, Sean, you’re the best,” you say, “Be careful, and give them hugs from us!”

“I won’t even reach up to give them hugs,” Sean chuckles, “but I’ll try. I’ll radio at two pm tomorrow, does that work for you?”

“We’ll be here, Sean,” Frankie says, “talk soon, over and out.”

“Over and out.”

…

You feel giddy on the way back to Jackson, despite the dull throb in your head. The feeling lasts right until Pat stops you just outside the Jackson gates.

“Sorry, I need to get Maria and the dog, you know the rules,” he says and you just nod to him and he disappears inside the gate. Frankie helps you out of the saddle, gently setting you down on your feet.

“It’ll be fine, cariño, he just has to be cautious,” he says, running his hand over your cheek before he wraps it around your shoulders, holding you close.

It doesn’t take long for Pat to return with Maria, she’s got a worried look on her face but stops a few feet from you.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I really hope you’re not infected but you know the drill,” she kneels to release the dog and looks up at Frankie. “I’m sorry, Frankie, but I need you to step away from here, and I’ll let the dog sniff you too, just to be safe.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, letting his hand fall from your shoulder as he steps back.

You hold your breath as the German Shepherd approaches, you blacked out, you don’t know you didn’t get bit but Frankie insists you’re fine, but what if he missed something? The dog sniffs your legs and jumps up, bumping its snout into your belly with a happy wag of its tail and you exhale deeply. Maria whistles and directs the dog towards Frankie and he trots over, Frankie reaches down and holds out his hand, the dog takes one sniff and then lifts his head and licks Frankie’s face, its long tongue lapping across his nose.

“Jeez, Scout,” Frankie chuckles, holding the dog off with his hands, “you’re not meant to eat me if I’m not infected, you know.”

“Thank god you’re both fine, I nearly had a heart attack when Pat told me what happened, I’m going to have to have a talk with Eugene about abandoning his post,” Maria shakes her head and clips the leash back on Scout’s collar. “But I heard the radio works and you got in touch with someone in Boston?”

“Yeah, Sean, who I used to work with on the radio there,” you reply as the four of you start walking back through the gates, Winston trailing behind Frankie who’s got his arm back around your waist, making sure you’re still steady on your feet. “And actually, we wanted to talk to you and Pat about that, about Boston, but in private first I think.”

“Ok,” Maria looks curious but nods, “I’ll put Scout back in his kennel and you can meet me at my house when you’ve stabled Winston.”

“Cariño, I need to check your head too,” Frankie says, lightly running his hand over your hair, “we’ll meet you there Maria, as soon as I’m sure she didn’t get a concussion.”

Maria nods again and Frankie leads you over to the stable along with Winston. You feel ok though, a bit battered and you know you’ll have bruises all over your back soon, but you let Frankie check you after he hands Winston over to Ned.

“Just follow my finger with your eyes, cariño,” he instructs and you do as he says. He lets his finger trail back and forth in front of your eyes until you sigh and wave it away.

“Frankie, I’m fine but if you keep waving that finger I really will get nauseous.”

“I’m just making sure,” he says, “you scared the shit out of me, I hear the crack when you hit the floor you know.”

“I feel fine, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left my gun behind, that was a rookie mistake,” you say as Frankie gently cups your cheeks with his hands.

“You should’ve had it on you, but Eugene really shouldn’t have left the front door unguarded, we were lucky it was just one runner.” he tilts his head forward so that he can rest his forehead against yours. “Fuck…I hate when things like that happen to you, it’s like I a get a glimpse of what like would be without you and I don’t think I could fucking cope.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask in a small voice, “That you wouldn’t leave me if it did happen?”

“If you’d been infected?” he asks, “I wouldn’t leave you, I could never leave you, especially like that,” his thumbs stroke across your cheeks, he’s trying to keep his voice and eyes calm but you see the anguish in his face as he touches upon that thought. It fills you to, the very idea of Frankie being infected, of seeing the mycelium under his skin, losing him to that, it makes you shiver and he tightens his hold on you.

“Would you kill me? If I asked you to?” you whisper and you see his jaw tighten.

“If you wanted me too,” he says after a long pause, “I would, but I think…I might…” he shakes his head, he doesn’t want to say it, not even think it, but he knows he’d be hard pressed to not turn the gun on himself afterwards if it came to that.

“You can’t, Frankie,” you say, reaching up and tangling your fingers in the curls around his neck, “we can’t. Not while Jack needs us.” You pull back a little and look at him, his hands still around your face. “You have to promise me, that if the worst happens, you stay, for him. Don’t leave him.”

Frankie’s face flashes with pain and you feel it too, the idea of trying to go on without him, in this world, is just so very hard, but for the first time you feel responsible for someone else apart from Frankie and yourself.

“I don’t want to live without you, Frankie, not ever. But if I have to, for Jack, I’ll have figure out how to. And you need to do the same.”

He nods, it’s the smallest of gestures, but he’s looking at you and you see the intention in his eyes and you bring him close again, forehead to forehead.

“I promise, cariño,” he whispers, “I don’t know how, but I’ll figure it out too. But I’m not letting that happen, I’m keeping you and Jack safe.”

“You can’t promise that, Frankie,” you whisper back, coming back to the same objection as always.

“Just fucking watch me,” he growls, but he’s smiling, challenging you to contradict him in his conviction.

It’s only a little bit later that you make your way over to Maria’s house, the plan for what you’re going to ask her ready. She calls for you to come on in when Frankie raps his knuckles on the front door.

Pat is already in the living room, on the couch with a cup of herbal tea in his hand, the only warm drink the community is able to produce, yet at least.

“How’s the head?” he asks as you sit down.

“Not too bad, there’s an egg sized lump on the back of my head that’s throbbing, but nurse Frankie says no concussion.

Pat chuckles as Frankie rolls his eyes at you, “Good to hear, you gave us one hell of a scare there, sorry if I was a bit rough with you afterwards.”

“There’s no need, Pat, it is what it is,” you shrug, trying to feign a casual response you don’t feel.

“I made some tea for you two too, thought you might need some warming up,” Maria says as she comes into the living room, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Frankie accepts the tea from Maria and clears his throat, “We wanted to ask you if we can invite four friends of ours, to Jackson, if they can make it from Boston.”

Maria has raised her eyebrows in question, you know how protective she is, how protective you all are, of the community, who you let in, and how crucial it is to keep the circle of people who know about it small.

“Before the outbreak, as you know, I was in Delta Force,” Frankie says, rubbing his thumb over the tea mug, “two of my best friends from those days, Will and Benny Miller, are still in Boston with their girlfriends. Will and Benny are two of the best people I know, my brothers, and very competent soldiers. For selfish reasons we’d both like to have them here, but I also think they’d be a great asset to Jackson.”

Maria nods slowly and looks over at Pat who’s rubbing his hand over his chin, “Frankie, I’ve only known you for a few months, but I trust you with my life when we’re out on patrol, and if they’re anything like you, and you vouch for them, I’d be more than happy to welcome them here.”

Pat’s glowing review of Frankie’s character makes pride swell in your chest and you see Frankie’s ears turn pink at the praise.

“Thanks, man, I…I don’t know what to say,” Frankie stutters, failing to hide his grin, “I…We’ve just really tried to do our best for the community, and I know Will and Ben would do the same. And their girlfriends are great people too, Diana, Will’s partner, is a nurse and Eve was training under her, it’d be great to have them here too.”

“It’s a long and dangerous journey, you two know that very well,” Maria says, “but if they’re willing to risk it, and as Pat says, you vouch for them, I don’t see why not. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to have another two ex-soldiers to deter any raiders.”

“We’re hoping to talk to them tomorrow at two pm, Boston time,” you say, “Sean was going to try to set it up for us.”

“Ok, but make sure you don’t tell them exactly where Jackson is, in case FEDRA listens in. Guide them to the radio tower, we’ll do patrols there regularly,” Maria says and Frankie can’t help but chuckle.

“Trust me, if we tell them to go to the radio tower, they’ll find Jackson the same afternoon, Benny will smell the food and Will’s going to read the map and figure out exactly where we are in under a minute.”

…

Pat and Ned come up to the radio tower with you and Frankie the next day. The front door had been properly secured before you left yesterday but you still carefully clear the building before heading up to the radio.

You start it up and find the right frequency, hailing Sean as Pat’s old wind up watch hits noon. Wyoming is still two hours behind the east coast, time zones strangely still being a thing, at least over the radio.

But it’s not Sean’s voice that comes back at you over the radio.

“Fuck you both for taking off like that,” Benny roars over the air waves, filling the small room in the radio tower, making Pat raise his eye brows and look at Frankie with alarm.

“We thought you were fucking dead! And not a word, not even fucking note, first Pope and then you two just disappear, what the fuck was that about? And now you just suddenly fucking turn up out of nowhere and you’re safe and you’re somewhere out west and I don’t know fucking what? Fish! You are so dead the next time I see you!”

“Benny, shut the fuck up for a second and let them respond,” Will’s voice comes through, interrupting Benny’s angry tirade, “Ironhead, over.”

The radio goes silent as someone on the other end lets go of the broadcast switch and you press yours down to reply, not quite sure what to say after Benny’s outburst. Sure, it was probably justified, but it wasn’t exactly the way you thought your first communication with them would go. Pat is looking very surprised and a little bit hesitant next to Frankie.

Frankie leans forward over your shoulder and puts his hand over yours on the switch, “Catfish here. Good to hear your voices, and I guess we had that coming Benny. We owe you guys an explanation.”

He pauses, his hand still on the switch as he collects his thoughts, “I had to leave, you guys know why, and she made me see that it was the only way. We didn’t want to leave without saying anything but…we couldn’t let you risk everything too. I know you both would’ve come anyway, even if I told you not to, so we had to leave without saying anything. But I’m sorry, really, Benny, I’m really sorry we didn’t say anything. Over.” He takes his hand off yours and you let the switch flip back up into the receiving position.

“Are you good now, Fish? Over.” Will’s voice comes over the radio almost instantly and Frankie hits reply.

“Yeah, I’m good now, been good for a while. But I’ll tell you all about it later, because we’ve found something really good here and we want you to come out too, if you can. It’s a long journey, but it’ll be worth it. I don’t wanna say too much in case FEDRA or someone else is listening in, but remember that job we did in Iraq? And the name of that fucking C.O. that kept calling Pope and me spics? There’s a place in Wyoming that matches, that’s where we are, come find us there. Over.” Frankie lets go of the switch.

“You’re in Wyoming? How the fuck did you end up there?” Benny’s voice is incredulous and he still sounds a bit pissed off but Will interrupts him.

“So you want us to travel halfway across the country but you can’t tell us why?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know it’s dodgy as fuck, but I know you trust me, it’s good, it’ll be worth it, we’ve got something really good going here. And you know the names right?”

“Yeah, sure, I still have a fucking five inch scar from that job and I know exactly what asshole you mean,” Will responds.

“Will,” you lean forward, “it’s a dangerous journey, we know that. But if you can get a car, you’ll find abandoned cars almost the whole way so that you can fill up on gas as you go, that’s what we did. Only thing is, the last two days, once we got to Wyoming, there were no more cars so we had to walk the rest of the way.”

“But why the fuck did you go as far as Wyoming?” Benny asks again and you can’t help but smile, you can see his face in front of you, his forehead bunched up as he tries to wrap his head around it.

“We didn’t plan it,” Frankie says, “we were just trying to get away from populated areas as much as possible. And then…something happened in Nebraska, and we had to head further west.”

“Yeah, be careful of people, we ran into some really nasty types in Nebraska, just about got away,” you fill in.

“But you’re saying it’ll be worth the journey, if we make it out to you guys?” Will asks and Frankie nods as he flicks the switch.

“Yeah, absolutely, I’m sorry I can’t say more over the radio, but yeah, one hundred percent worth it.”

“Well, anything is better than fucking Boston QZ at the moment,” Benny grumbles as Will flicks the switch again. “FEDRA has turned it into a fascist state, it’s even worse than when you left.”

“Fish, we’ll talk to Diana and Eve and let you know, but…I mean, I trust you with my life, you’re my brother,” Will says, “If you say it’s worth risking our lives for, then I believe you.”

“Ok, can you be back on the air at the same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Will says, “We’ll talk to you tomorrow. Over and out.”

The radio goes silent and you sit back, you can hardly believe you just talked to Will and Benny again. You just hope they want to come, and that they make it. Frankie wraps his arms around you from behind and gives you a big hug, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“So fucking great to talk to them again,” he grins, “I hope they want to come but I hope we did the right thing to ask them, it’s a long journey.”

You nod as you go through the motions of switching off the radio, you hope so too and a little ball of anxiety is settling in your stomach.

…

That ball grows as you don’t hear from them the next day. Not even Sean is on the radio and you can’t get in touch with Boston at all. You fiddle with the dials, trying everything Sean’s taught you, but there’s nothing, just statics. Frankie stands behind your shoulder, looking anxious. It was always a risk, contacting them inside the QZ, if FEDRA listened in they might’ve tried getting to Will and Benny straight away.

“Fuck, I really hope we didn’t put them in danger just by contacting them,” you say with a sigh, looking up at Frankie, he’s rubbing his hand over his jaw, deep in thought.

“I don’t know, cariño, I really hope not. I guess all we can do is come by here every day at noon and see if we get a response.”

You and Frankie take the patrol route that goes past the radio tower every day and make sure to be there at noon. The first couple of weeks you remain hopeful, maybe something broke, maybe there’s a curfew preventing anyone from getting to the radio, life is so unpredictable now, you know this. But as the weeks turn into a month, and then two, and the radio remains silent, both you and Frankie start losing hope. It’s like the Boston radio station has ceased to exist and all you can do is wait. And hope.

It’s not until you’re deep into winter that you come back to the radio station on one of your patrol routes, Frankie and you don’t even go on that patrol regularly anymore, and you find a message from one of the other Jackson residents.

Message from Sean in Boston: FEDRA shut down radio. W & B left approx. three months ago. Hope they have arrived. Will send new messages when possible.

“Three months ago?” you say, looking at Frankie, “they should be here by now if they managed to drive.”

“They should be here even if they walked the whole way,” Frankie says, his eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown, “something must’ve happened.”

You feel the lump in your stomach, anxious nerves twisting your insides, and Frankie sees the look in your eyes and pulls you into his arms.

“Don’t give up hope yet, cariño,” he mumbles into your hair, “you know that if there’s anyone that can do that journey, it’s Will and Benny.”

“I almost wish we hadn’t told them,” you say into his chest, “I’m scared we’ll never hear from them again and never know what happened.”

He caresses your hair, trailing his fingers along the back of your neck, “You know, Benny will say it’s payback for what we did when we left without saying anything, I can just see his smirk as he says it, ‘Fuckin’ payback Fish!’ “

You smile through your tears, looking up at Frankie who’s doing his best to imitate Ben’s smug grin.

“There you go,” he smiles back at you, wiping your cheek clean, “don’t grieve for them yet, there’s still plenty of hope.”

…

Winter in Boston is a piece of cake compared to winter in Wyoming, as you find out, especially this close to the Rockies. The snow covers everything both inside and outside of Jackson in a thick layer. Almost every morning Frankie shovels the snow off your front porch and clears the path to the street. Then he shovels the section of the street the two of you are assigned to, everyone helping out to keep Jackson passable as the winter continues. Patrols become increasingly difficult, the snow becomes too deep even for the horses to pass through and the only upside is that if the Jackson guards can’t patrol, then no one else can either, all of Wyoming is snowed in.

But there’s plenty to do in the town and you go back to working in the kitchen, bringing Jack with you most days. He’s the only baby in the community and to say he’s spoiled rotten would be an understatement. He’s walking now, waddling around as fast as his chubby legs will carry him, but when he’s in the kitchen he spends most of his time on the hip of one of the residents who work there with you, happily watching everything that goes on around him.

Frankie takes Jack some days but he’s often outside, helping to build or fix things, slowly putting Jackson together into a working town. The stable has been joined by two chicken coops, the old medical clinic has been cleaned out and repaired as much as possible, there’s even a communal ‘shop’ of sorts where any useful clothes and shoes are stored and organized. An election has been held and Maria is now head of the community board, Jackson is slowly turning into a proper town.

As the weeks pass, the winter deepens and Maria and the board decide that it’s time for the town to have its very first holiday celebration. To be honest, no one is completely sure what day it is anymore. You lost track back in Denny’s cabin when you were trying to keep Frankie alive. In the QZ some people had made calendars to track the days but more often than not they disagreed on exactly what day it was. FEDRA in Boston claimed they had an exact calendar, but Will, who’d spent most of his life tracking everything, said it was incorrect by twenty six days, almost a month off, and you trusted Will. But in Boston, even to Will, it didn’t really matter what date it was, you were too busy just surviving.

So as the days are still growing shorter, a day is picked, a Saturday in two weeks, for the first Jackson Holiday Season celebration. The community hall is decorated with evergreens and the big room smells of juniper and pine every time you come inside. A thread bare red blanket has been cut into strips and turned into bows that are now nestled in the evergreen branches. And it seems every red item that can be found in Jackson has been brought to the hall to decorate tables, windows and every available surface.

As the day draws nearer Frankie becomes more and more secretive about what he’s up to, giving you sly grins whenever you ask where he’s off to as he tries to sneak out the door. You know he’s planning something, but you can’t figure out what. But his absence from the house gives you time to work on your own gifts for him.

There’s not much in the way of available holiday gifts though. Although Jack’s turns out to be pretty easy, the toy shop in the non-enclosed part of Jackson has an array of toys left on its shelves, not much use to anyone in the apocalypse. Frankie and you go over there one afternoon on a patrol route and pick out a colorful set of wood blocks and, of course, a toy helicopter, still in its box.

“You’ll have to explain what a helicopter is,” you say to Frankie as you watch him carefully scan the shelves to find the biggest and, in Frankie’s professional opinion, best helicopter model.

“Yeah, kinda weird knowing he’s gonna grow up never seeing a helicopter or airplane actually fly,” he replies, discarding yet another helicopter, “This model is alright, but the Viper really is better, even if most people thought the Apache Guardian was the best one. I always preferred the Viper, better maneuverability at low altitudes.”

“I think he’ll like this one,” you say, pointing to a bright red and yellow helicopter, clearly from a children's tv-show. Frankie glances at it and shakes his head immediately.

“No, I’m not giving our son a fake helicopter, he’s getting a real one.” He goes back to scanning the shelves, crouching down and moving the boxes aside. “Maybe they have some more out back,” he mutters, discarding yet another perfectly fine looking military helicopter.

“Well, when you find a ‘real’ helicopter in here, let me know. I’m going to see if I can find some crayons and drawing books for him,” you can’t help teasing him as you turn away and head towards the craft section.

You have to stop yourself from filling your bag to the brim with crayons, drawing books, beads, paint, brushes and other crafting materials, but you still stuff it pretty full. Just as you close it Frankie finally comes over, two boxes in his hands.

“I found a Viper out back, last one they had,” he says with a grin, showing you a military helicopter that, to you, looks identical to the one he discarded, “but I also got him this really cool rescue services helicopter, they use it for water bombing, it’s a S-64 Skycrane, it can hold up to three thousand gallons of water! In the army we call it the CH-54 Tarhe, but the Skycrane is the civilian name. It’s a twin engine, heavy lifting helicopter, one of the best in the world. You really need a pilot and a co-pilot to fly it but I had special training and could fly it solo in an emergency. But the really cool thing is that it could lift up to forty two thousand pounds and still do a hundred and nine knots! Isn’t that awesome, cariño?”

You’ve walked out of the shop and turned back down towards the Jackson gate while Frankie enthusiastically gushes about the toy helicopters still in his hands and when he pauses for your opinion, you just nod and smile at him. Most of what he said has just floated through your head, but Frankie tirade of facts reminds you of the first time he took you up flying, how he’d rattled off technical facts about the helicopter you were about to fly in and then apologized for boring you with all the details. As you wave to the guards and the gate slides open to let you in, you bump his shoulder with yours.

“That’s pretty cool, Frankie. Jack’s going to be very impressed too.”

“I can’t wait to show him on Christmas morning,” Frankie grins, smiling lovingly down at the two helicopters in his hands.

…

The night before what Jackson has communally decided is Christmas, or whatever holiday you want to celebrate, Frankie turns up at the door with a Christmas tree and you can’t believe your eyes. It’s not huge, a modest one, but he’s somehow found a foot for it, and now it’s standing in the living room and Jack’s eyes have never been bigger as he gazes at it. He’s almost one and you’re set on making his first Christmas as magical as possible.

“Pat, Ned and I found loads of decorations at HomeDepot, even the lights work,” Frankie says, showing you the box. “We’ve got enough decorations there to fill all of Jackson I think, I even got candy canes!”.

“You’ve got everything here,” you can’t help but giggle as you look into the box of decorations he’s dragged in after the tree, “baubles, tinsel, streamers, this is going to look amazing.” You haven’t wanted to celebrate anything for years, but now you’re filled with an urge to make the tree, and the house, look perfect for your first family Christmas. You’ve already made a wreath for the front door out of evergreen and colorful scraps of fabric but now you can add more decorations to the house. As Frankie organizes the tree decorations, you go through the house, placing tinsel and baubles wherever you can find a suitable spot.

“Should we decorate the tree now or wait until Jack’s asleep?” Frankie asks you as you come back into the living room, “My mom would always do it while we slept and then it’d be all perfect and ready on Christmas morning.”

“He’s too small for that, and I wanna sit in front of the fire with you tonight and look at our tree,” you reply, sliding your arm around his waist and giving him a squeeze.

“Anything for you, cariño,” Frankie says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

…

Christmas Day morning you wake up as Frankie slips from the bed and you mumble after him. He comes back and tucks you back in, placing a feather soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Go back to sleep, cariño, I won’t be long.”

You doze off, the light in the room still dim and there’s no noise from Jack’s room, it must be early.

Frankie gently places a tray on the bedside table a little bit later and runs his hand over your shoulder, making you blink awake.

“Merry Christmas, hermosa,” he whispers, before he disappears again and you slowly open your eyes, confused. But then you hear Jack’s gurgling as Frankie comes back in with the baby in his arms and you wake up properly.

“First family Christmas for baby Jack,” Frankie smiles and gives you the little boy after you’ve scooted yourself up to lean against the headboard.

“First family Christmas,” you smile back, snuggling a still sleepy Jack close while Frankie picks up the tray and sets it down on the bed before crawling back in next to you. On it are two steaming mugs and you can’t believe your nose.

“Is that hot chocolate, Frankie?!” you ask, eyes wide and he nods, giving you a big grin.

“Pat and I found a big bag of cocoa powder a while back, we’ve been keeping it a secret for Christmas, he’s making brownies for everyone tonight.”

“Oh my god, I can’t wait…” you sigh, accepting the mug as Frankie passes it to you, keeping it out of reach from Jack’s grabby hands.

“Don’t worry, gordito, I’ve made you some too,” Frankie chuckles, giving Jack a sippy cup. The baby’s face transforms as he tastes the sweet drink, tilting the cup back so fast you have to grab it to stop him from drowning himself in the drink.

“I hope there’s plenty of cocoa powder because we may have found Jack’s new favorite thing,” you laugh. Frankie scoots closer and puts his arm behind your back, pulling you into his side and you lean your head on his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, Frankie, your present is under the tree,” you say and you can feel him chuckle under you.

“So that’s what you did when you snuck downstairs in the middle of the night,” he laughs, “I was wondering what you were up to.”

“No, that was Santa Claus,” you say with a serious face, “you must’ve heard of him coming down the chimney.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Frankie chuckles again, “Santa Claus.” He puts his mug down and tilts your head up towards him, brushing his nose against your cheek, running it along the bridge of your nose until his lips find yours and he nudges them apart with his tongue. He tastes of chocolate and honey and himself as he deepens the kiss. Jack coos happily on your lap, you can feel him tugging at the t-shirt you’ve slept in while Frankie’s warm body wraps around you and Jack. He pulls back a little, leaving your lips, and smiles down at you, and then Jack, his eyes warm and soft, crinkling at the corners.

“Merry Christmas,” he says in a low voice, as if he doesn’t want to disturb the peace of the moment and you reach up and cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scruffy beard, stroking the small patch that never fills in and you kiss him again.

The rest of the morning, after breakfast has been cleared away, is spent in the living room. The fire is going, warming the house and keeping the blistering cold Wyoming winter at bay, and the Jackson board has given everyone leave to light the Christmas lights as the dam is running like clockwork, producing much more electricity than the small community needs.

Jack happily tears into the bright paper around his presents, banging the wooden blocks against each other with glee as Frankie shows him how the helicopter flies. Frankie’s wearing your presents to him, your very first knitting projects, a woolly hat that turned out much better than you anticipated, and a pair of pretty knobbly socks that Frankie swears are the comfiest socks ever, but you’re pretty sure he only says that to make you happy.

Your own present from Frankie is already neatly placed in the book shelf next to the window, a wide selection of best selling books from the Jackson Bookshop. You hadn’t even known there was a bookshop but Frankie had lugged back over twenty heavy books, and promised to take you there to get more books when you wanted.

“I also have another present, but you’ll get that one tonight,” he smiles, giving you a mischievous wink that doesn’t fail to get you a little bit turned on. You’ve almost lost count of the years you’ve been with him now, but he still knows exactly what look to give you to make heat shoot through your body, making your thighs clench together.

As darkness falls over Jackson, almost everyone heads for the community hall. There’d been a draw and a few unlucky people were on guard duty, but they’ve been giving generous hampers of the best food and extra days off from guard duty as compensation. But you’re still very happy that neither your or Frankie’s names got pulled for duty tonight. Instead you’d wrapped Jack in warm clothes and walked down to the community hall that’s blazing with light and warmth. Now you’re leaning back in your chair, Jack on Frankie’s lap, full of food you didn’t think you’d ever eat again. Turkey and cranberries, roast potatoes, even Pat’s brownies, it had all been delicious and you think it may have been the best Christmas dinner you’ve ever had. Jack had happily tried everything that had been placed in front of him, except the brussel sprouts, but you couldn’t blame him for that. The brownie had been his favorite, smeared across most of his face to the delight of the whole Jackson community. It was as if Jack’s presence, still the only child in town, gave even more of a holiday feel to the celebration and he’d been passed around almost every lap during the evening before slumping in Frankie’s now, almost asleep.

“Do you want me to take him now, Frankie?” Maria asks as she comes over and you look up surprised but Frankie just smiles.

“That’d be great, I think it should be ready now,” he gives Jack a peck on the top of his fuzzy head and carefully hands him over to Maria, “We’ll come pick him up tomorrow morning, but not too early.”

“Don’t worry about it, take all the time you want,” Maria says and winks as Frankie stands, holding out his hand to you.

“Mi amor, time for your Christmas present,” he smiles and you take his hand.

“I want to ask where we’re going but I’m guessing you won’t tell me?” you ask and Frankie chuckles, waving goodbye to Maria and leading you out of the community center.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

You walk through the quiet town, in the opposite direction from your own house and you’re thoroughly confused when Frankie leads you down a street no one lives on yet and to a house right at the end of the cul-de-sac. He pushes the gate open but instead of going up onto the porch, he leads you round the back, pushing open another gate in a tall fence, and stepping into the backyard.

You see it immediately, a large wooden hot tub, filled to the brim with steaming water, heated by a wood fired heater next to it. A big pile of firewood is next to it and by the way the snow is flattened you guess Frankie’s been here during the evening to feed the fire and heat up the water.

“Seriously?” you smile, turning to look at Frankie who’s grinning next to you, “A hot tub?”

“Yep, we knew it was here but with fire wood needed to heat the houses it was never put to use. Now that the dam is running so well, we can afford to waste a bit of wood on heating it. So, Merry Christmas, cariño.”

He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans his head on your shoulder, the cold tip of his nose finding the warm skin of your neck and you reach up, cupping the back of his head.

“Merry Christmas, Frankie, this is amazing…” you sigh, “And I guess Maria is in on this too, that’s why she took Jack?”

“She’s babysitting him tonight for us, so we have all the time that we want,” Frankie mumbles, his lips already wandering across your neck, pushing hair out of the way and reaching that spot just under your ear that he loves to nuzzle into, to nip at just a little, because he knows how you react when he does.

“C’mon, we’re skinny dipping,” he smiles into your neck, reaching for the zipper on your winter coat and sliding it down, “strip fast and get in, I’ll be right there.”

He gives your neck a final little nip, making you hum quietly under your breath, before he steps away and goes to retrieve something up on the back porch. There’s a bench next to the hot tub and you quickly take off your jacket and peel off the rest of your clothes. As you get to your bra and panties you quickly glance around and realize that the backyard has total privacy, even from the neighboring houses, so you strip down and climb into the tub. Frankie comes back just as you step into the water, the short stay in the frigid air has made you shiver and you moan as you slip into the hot water.

“Frankie, this feels amazing,” you sigh as Frankie places a couple of towels on the heater to keep them warm, and places two glasses and a bottle on the edge of the hot tub.

“You look very cozy there, cariño,” he smiles as he starts stripping down too. You can’t help but lean on the edge of the hot tub and watch him as he pulls his shirt off, followed by his pants. He’s well into his forties now but he’s still maintained his wide, muscular shoulders and broad chest that tapers down into a narrow waist and hips over strong thighs. The only thing betraying his age and the slightly softer lifestyle of Jackson is his soft little belly and more gray hairs in his patchy beard.

“Enjoying the view?” he chuckles as he spots you shamelessly scanning his body.

“Always, ever since our first date,” you smile, scooting to the side as he steps in. Your mouth waters as you take in his half hard cock hanging stiff between his legs, despite the cold air.

Frankie sinks down into the water with a groan, the warmth seeping into his muscles and bones and with a thump he drops his head back against the edge of the hot tub and closes his eyes, letting a long breath escape him. You move closer to him again, pulling his arm around your shoulders as you sink into his side.

“Hmm…” he tilts his head towards yours, his hand coming up to hold your chin, moving it so that he can reach your lips, “you taste like Christmas, cariño.”

It makes you smile into his mouth, letting your tongue slip into his, tasting him, the burn of the whiskey he had before you left.

“What’s in the bottle, Frankie?” you ask, mumbling against him and now it’s his turn to smile.

“Something to make you lose your inhibitions and have sex in a hot tub in the middle of a Wyoming winter,” he chuckles.

“Sounds exactly like what we need,” you smile back at him and he pulls away far enough to grab the glasses and the bottle. The bottle is barely half full but it’s more than enough for a finger in each glass and when Frankie hands one to you, you smell the rich bourbon.

“This is the real stuff? Not Eugene’s moonshine?” you ask, your eyebrows raised but Frankie just grins and clinks his glass against yours.

“Merry Christmas, hermosa,” he takes a sip, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief over the brim.

“Francisco Morales,” you say, trying to sound stern, and failing, “where did you get this?” You take a sip and groan. You were never a big whiskey drinker before the outbreak, and not even during the first few years of it. But while in Boston, when creature comforts became fewer and further between, real whiskey was one of the few things that could sometimes be traded for, the one indulgence that could make you all relax enough to forget the real world for a while. As the years passed it became harder to find the good stuff, mostly it was moonshine disguised as whiskey. But this was real bourbon, Jack Daniels, and not the cheap stuff.

Frankie takes another sip and leans forward, “I pulled a few strings, I am the hero of Jackson Dam after all,” he chuckles before he makes you open your mouth to his tongue again. The whiskey flavor is mellow this time, mingling with his own taste and you forget your question, moaning as he licks into your mouth. He takes the glass from you, placing it on the edge without letting his mouth leave yours and then his hands grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. The cold air hits your shoulders but Frankie sinks down further, water sloshing around you, and as he moves his lips from your mouth, trailing down your neck, you forget about the frigid temperature. His hands are pulling you down against his hard length as he sucks a mark into your smooth skin, making you whimper under him.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, his lips brushing down over your chest as he lifts you out of the water, watching the cold air make your nipples tighten before he wraps a hand around your breast, the warmth from his palm making you shudder, “Gonna make you come on my fingers right here, fuck you on my lap, then I’ll take you home, get you warmed up in front of the fire before I take care of you for the rest of the night, anything you want, hermosa, I’ll do to you.”

His words make you shiver more than the air, sending spasms down your spine, and Frankie moves you off his lap, setting you down next to him, the warm water coming up to your neck again.

“You can come inside me tonight, Frankie,” you say as his strong hands grip your legs, and you feel his response, his fingers digging into your soft flesh and he presses his mouth to yours, taking a long kiss, tongues slipping over each other, before he pulls back a little.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear now, as he pulls you into his side, his hand slipping up the inside of your thigh. You don’t need his words to spread open for him, but he knows you like to hear him ask for it, so he lets his breath skate across the damp skin while he tells you what to do. Hooking his leg over yours, he squeezes the soft flesh of your leg as he props you open for his hand to slip further up. You’re protesting at his slow pace, he’s just teasing you as he strokes the butter soft skin right at the top of your thigh, grazing against your core as he moves his hand to the other side. He chuckles into your ear as your hips buck, chasing his hand and he lets his other arm slip down to your hip, grabbing it tight and holding you still as he moves his hand up again.

“So impatient tonight, cariño,” he smiles before his teeth nip at your neck, his scruff tickling your skin as he moves further down. His hand is still kneading the plush flesh, pushing you open more as he slides his hand back up. When his fingertips catch at your entrance and drags upwards, you whimper, turning your head and chasing his lips with your mouth. He lets you kiss him, opening his mouth to your tongue as his fingers slide through your folds.

The slow drag makes you want to clench your thighs together but his leg is keeping them in place, keeping you open for his drawn out exploration.

“Frankie…” you moan against his lips, breathing heavily against him as he brushes around your clit yet again, “please…more…”

You can feel him smile against you as your pleading voice turns into a whine when he slowly pushes the tip of his finger inside you, only the one, much too little for what you need, and you keen in protest, grabbing his shoulder and trying to push your hips towards him.

“Sshh…hermosa, just stay still, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers, his voice low and promising, “gonna let you feel my fingers so deep inside this wet little pussy, just be patient…” the last words he mumbles into your ear as he leaves your lips, his hot breath making you shiver. His finger slips out and slips back in, pumping slowly as he lets his thumb touch your clit feather light, but even under those small touches, your breath catches, head thrown back against the edge of the hot tub.

Frankie’s teeth grazes your throat, just under your ear, not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you shiver again and he slides his finger out, even the hot water feels cool against his skin after the heat of your pussy. When he adds a second finger and slides in, he’s rewarded by a loud moan as you turn your heads towards him again, desperately seeking him. He swallows down your noises, drowning in your pants as he starts curling his fingers back, dragging across a spot he knows makes you squeeze your eyes shut as you gasp. His thumb finds your clit again and now he lets his rough pad, made soft and wrinkled by the warm water, rub across the swollen pearl, circling, flicking, teasing until your gasps are replaced by panted whimpers into his mouth.

“Frankie…” you moan, “Frankiefrankiefrankie…”

Your cries send shock waves into his hard cock, resting heavily in the water between his spread thighs, one of his legs still hooked over yours. He feels your hand slide down over his front, wrapping around the solid length, and it’s his turn to gasp, your thumb finding the slit and caressing over it.

“Make me come, Frankie, I-I want you to fuck me h-here,” you pant, shaking under the way his fingers plunge in and out of your tight heat, “I want your cock inside me now, I don’t want to w-wait…oh fuck…”

He’s slipped out and added a third finger, pressing them deep inside you, moving his body to push you against the wall of the hot tub, your hand still gripping his hard, aching cock. His tongue invades your mouth, both of you moaning under the onslaught of pleasure rippling through your nerves. You’re further along, Frankie’s thumb teasing your clit in ever tightening circles while his fingers curl back. But it’s Frankie who breaks first, as his cock easily slips through your tight grip under the water, he curses in Spanish, pulling away from you.

“C’mere,” he growls and you gasp as his fingers slip out of you. He grabs your arms, turning you around easily and placing you on his lap, pushing your legs wide, hooking them over his knees, as you lean back against his chest. You feel the tip of his rigid cock at your entrance as he pulls you down, the slick heat of your core and the water making him slide in deep in one firm thrust. The impact, the way he hits a spot deep inside, makes you throw your head back, against his shoulder, and cry out his name. Frankie sees your hot breath steam into the cold air, mixing with the steam from the hot tub as you moan again. One hand on your hip to pull you down, he lets the other find your aching clit, teasing it with his fingers as he thrusts up into you. His cock his aching, every movement from you transplanting into every nerve ending along it, shooting up through his spine, his balls, his fucking finger tips, he swears he can feel you clenching tight around him even in his ear lobes.

His mouth is right next to your ear and he’s mumbling, slamming his hips up as much as the position lets him, “Such a tight fucking pussy, couldn’t wait another second, bebita, your hand…” he groans as another spams ripples through your body, he can feel how close you are, grinding your hips down against him with every thrust up, “fuck…you feel so fucking good,” he moans, “let me feel you come around my cock, just let me feel it, I’m so fu-fucking c-c-lose…”

You can feel his fingers dig into your hip, his mouth against your ear, his rough fingers caressing rough circles around your clit, building pressure.

“Frankie…” you whimper, your voice tight and strained, “I’m…”

Your orgasm hits you without warning, snapping every muscle in your body, Frankie feels you go rigid under his grip as you cry out his name again, it catches in your throat as he continues to grind up in to you, his fingers rubbing fast circles, pushing you forward, prolonging every waves that washes through you until you go limp. With a sob you slump back against him and he grabs your hips, pushing himself deep, once, twice, with a cry he thrusts in a third time and feels himself explode, pumping deep inside as your slowing spasms milk him dry.

You feel yourself relax in his arms, his grip tight, heart thrumming under your back as he pushes his face against the crook of your neck. You look up towards the night sky, trying to focus your eyes again, as every muscle in your body tingles with pleasure, coming down. Tendrils of steam are rising from the tub, your breath mingling with his, low pants and sloshing water the only sounds around you. You shiver as you realize most of your chest is out of the water, you’re still sitting on Frankie’s lap, but he notices and lifts you up, your body almost weightless in the water.

“C’mere, don’t get cold,” he mumbles, his voice soft and mellow, and he tucks you in under his arm, pulling you close into his side, kissing your cheek with his warm lips.

“Even before the outbreak, this would’ve been an absolutely perfect Christmas gift, Frankie,” you hum, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he draws another deep breath, his shoulders dropping, relaxing.

“Yeah, I would’ve gotten one of these for the house,” he says, lifting his hand and caressing the top of your head, his fingers trailing through your hair for a few minutes as you both let the warmth of the water soak through your muscles, relaxing you enough to slip even further down.

“I haven’t thought about life before the outbreak in a long time,” he mumbles after a while, a darker tone to his voice, “or where we would be if it hadn’t happened.”

“We’d still be together, Frankie, I know that. In our house, getting old, soaking in a hot tub.”

You see him give a small smile but his mind has turned to someone else.

“She’d be turning seventeen this spring…I wonder what she would look like,” Frankie’s fingers twitch in your hair as he tilts his head towards you, you feel the shift in his mood as clearly as if you were looking at his face.

“You know she’d be beautiful, Frankie, but more importantly, she’d be an incredible young woman with you as her dad,” you take his hand and stroke your thumb over the knuckles, a small soothing movement.

“It’s so unfair…I could've protected her, if only she’d been with me when the outbreak happened, I would’ve kept her safe,” he shifts so that he can turn himself more towards you, slipping down and leaning his head against your shoulder, his arm circling your waist to pull you even closer, “and none of all the shit I put you through would’ve happened, I would’ve been able to stay away from it with both of you alive.”

“You had to go through something no one should have to face, Frankie, you know I don’t blame you for any of it,” you whisper, letting your lips brush over his damp curls and you hear him let out a shaky breath.

“My first sponsor, back before Lucía was born, used to say that men like him and me need a focus in our lives, someone to protect or something to live for, to keep us straight. It might not be the best way, but it is what it is. And he told me I should let Lucía be my focus, and it worked.”

Frankie draws a deep breath and shrugs, “She was the reason, even before she was born, that I got clean. When I met you,” his hand wraps around yours under the water, “I knew that I didn’t need to put that burden on you, I could just be yours, be the man you deserve, and not let you deal with all my shit. She was going to keep my focus even if she didn’t even know it,” Frankie stops, and you hear the sob he tries to swallow back and you wrap your arms tighter around him as he digs his fingers into your side, pulling you closer, pressing his face to your neck.

“When she…” he murmurs, and you can feel him shake his head, “I can’t…say it…”

“You don’t have to, Frankie, I know what you mean,” you press your lips against his head and he draws a deep breath, swallowing down another sob.

“After, at the cabin, I had to shift my focus to you…you were the only reason I didn’t walk into the lake. But I don’t want you to have to be the reason I stay clean, I should be able to do it anyway, it’s not your burden.”

“You know I’d do it all again, Frankie, I will happily help you carry your burden, as long as I get to have you alive and well with me, that’s all I ever want,” you sink down, cupping his face between your hands, finding his eyes with yours before you press your lips to his, “You’re my everything, Frankie,” you mumble, pulling back a little and looking at his tear filled eyes again, “You’re always my everything, you’re always going to be the most important person in my life, I’ll do whatever it takes, always,” you kiss him again, harder this time, pressing your love into him and you feel him wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“Cariño,” he mumbles against your lips, “cariño, hermosa, eres todo para mí.” he brings his hands up to your face, his nose nudging yours as he kisses you again, “Siempre, siempre.”

He pulls you in, his mouth finding yours, soft lips pressed close, as he pulls you onto his lap again, “Always, I’m always yours.”

…

Winter seems to drag on forever, with no end in sight. You wish you had a weather channel on the useless tv that’s stored away in the garage. You’d love for a weatherman to explain to you why it’s mid-April and it’s still snowing, a thick layer on the ground.

“It’s the mountains, cariño,” Frankie explains for the fifth time as you grumble at the snow on yet another cold morning. “We’re so high up, even though we’re on the same latitude as Boston. And Boston has a coastal climate, Jackson has a continental climate, but we’re in a valley so I think, probably-”

“Frankie, I love you, but I don’t need another encyclopedic entry on why Jackson winters are so fucking long,” you sigh, shutting him up with a kiss that makes him grin at you as he tries to grab your butt.

“Fine, snow bad, sunshine good,” he chuckles, taking Jack from you. Jack’s grown a lot over the winter and totters around the house, forcing you to baby proof every low surface to prevent him from grabbing at anything within reach.

You long for warmer weather, for mild days where you can let Jack go outside without four layers of clothing, to be able to sit on the porch swing with Frankie and just rock back and forth. And, thankfully, it doesn’t take much longer for your wish to come true. It’s like someone flicked a switch. Freezing nights are replaced with mild spring showers, the snow melts, turning all the unpaved streets to mud, only to dry up as the sun returns a few days later. Suddenly the white world has turned dirty yellow and gray, and then bright green breaks through. It’s like an Arctic spring, over in a week, the mountain’s are still snow capped but the meadows are coated in fresh green grass and a riot of spring flowers.

Daffodils shoot up through the sparse grass in your backyard, the originally neat rows have multiplied over the years and taken over the lawn. You realize that whoever lived here before the outbreak must’ve planted them and now they spread their bright yellow shine all over what is now your garden. You pick bunches and decorate the house, fill every container you have with them, give more to Maria and Pat, even Ned and the horses get bunches for the stable, and still you have daffodils all over your lawn.

With spring all of Jackson is busy preparing for the new season, the first two green houses have been built over the winter, glass from dilapidated houses used to create two impressive structures. Now they’re filled with neat rows of planters and almost everyone takes turns tending them, overseen by a young man called Alwin, a self taught gardener with very green thumbs.

You still work in the kitchen though, food is always needed for the growing community and together with Alwin, you and the other kitchen manager have made plans for what plants to cultivate for maximum harvest.

You leave the community center and the kitchen behind one afternoon when spring has almost moved into early summer, Jack wobbling next to you. He loves to run but his legs aren’t really stable enough so you keep your hands ready to catch him as you follow his unsteady gait towards the stable. Frankie has been working on putting up an extension to the storage building, three foals had been born this spring and next winter more feed would be needed to keep all the horses well fed.

Frankie spots you and Jack as he jumps down from the hay loft, “Hey Jack, look at you go!” he calls to the grinning boy, and Jack speeds up, trying to run to Frankie.

“Da! Da!” he gurgles excitedly as you stop him from toppling over.

“Yeah, that’s your Da,” you laugh as Jack sets off again, tilting at a precarious angle. ‘Da’ could mean dad but also ‘horse’, ‘there’, ‘food’ or any number of things that might catch Jack’s eyes. But right now there’s no mistaking who he means as Frankie catches him and sweeps him up over his head in a big swing. Jack shrieks with laughter and Frankie spins him around an extra time before setting him on his hip, one arm securely around the boy’s back, as the other catches your waist, pulling you in so that he can kiss you as you put your hand behind his neck.

“You’re early,” he mumbles, nipping at your bottom lip and demanding another kiss, before he pulls back to look at you. His sweaty curls are unruly and flopping around his ears and forehead, his cap nowhere to be seen, and the spring sunshine has given him a tan, the tip of his nose slightly pink, and you have to give it a peck.

“We were done with planning and dinner is already sorted, so I thought we’d come surprise you,” you smile at him, “You really need a haircut, remind me tonight and I’ll give you a trim.”

“Sure, and I think Jack needs a trim too, either that or a hair tie,” Jack’s blonde curls are blowing in the wind and threatening to fall into his eyes but they are so cute that you’ve been putting off cutting them. Just like with Frankie’s curls, they were irresistible for wrapping around your fingers as you caress his soft head while he falls asleep.

“How’s the new building going?” you ask and Frankie turns to point up towards the roof.

“We just finish-”

You suddenly hear running footsteps from the main street and Josie, one of the people on guard duty today, comes rushing into the stable yard. You feel Frankie stiffen next to you, cutting himself off and instinctively reaching for his rifle that’s leaned against the stable wall.

“Oh good, you’re both here,” Josie pants, taking a deep breath and wiping her forehead, “You need to come quick, there’s people at the gate!”

“Are we under attack?” Frankie lets go of you and grabs the rifle but Josie shakes her head.

“No, but people,” she says, “asking for you! Come on!” She turns and starts heading back the way she came and you glance over at Frankie, hope suddenly burning in your chest and you see that he’s had the same thought. With Jack still on his arm you both hurry after Josie.

By the time you get to the gate it’s already open and you see a patrol returning, horses, men and women, coming through.

And then you both see them at the same time, two tall blonde men on horseback, and your heart leaps. Will spots you and his face splits into a wide grin, throwing his leg over the horse and jumping down.

“Fish!!” Benny yells, startling everyone around him, but he’s ignorant of it, throwing himself off his horse, sprinting towards you both. You laugh as you see Eve throw her hands in the air at being left on the horse as Benny takes off, behind him you see Will help Diana off her horse.

Benny stops short a few feet in front of Frankie, looking from him to Jack and back again, Jack’s big blue eyes are staring at Benny.

“Fish, I swore I’d fu-..” he bites his tongue, looking at Jack, “I swore I’d smack you, when we found you, but you’re holding a baby,” Benny blinks at Jack, looks over at you, and back at Frankie, “You have a baby?!”

“Come here, dumbass,” Frankie laughs, stepping over to Benny and giving him a one armed hug, “So fucking good seeing you, we were starting to get worried.”

Will grins as he reaches you and picks you up in a bear hug that makes you giggle, wrapping your arms around his thick neck.

“Fuck, I missed you Will, missed you so much,” you smile, willing yourself to not start crying as he puts you back on your feet.

“Missed you too,” he grins and takes a step towards Frankie, smacking him on his shoulder, getting his attention away from Benny, who lets go of him. The two men hug, you see Frankie blink his eyes rapidly, clapping Will on the back, but then Benny grabs you, picking you up just as high as Will and shaking you back and forth in his iron grip.

“So fucking good to see you!” he laughs, squeezing you tight enough to make you tap his shoulder.

“Missed you too Benny, but jeez, let me breathe please,” you laugh, your feet a clear foot off the ground.

“Come one, give her a break,” Diana chuckles, and you find yourself being hugged by both women, your tears starting to drip, you don’t think you’ve felt this happy in a long time and Benny wraps his long arms around the three of you.

“Great place you’ve got her, but did you have to move to the other side of the fucking country?” he says, grinning down at you as you wipe at your eyes.

Will and Frankie join you and Will tucks his arm around your waist next to Diana as you all stand in a tight little group, grinning at each other, not quite believing that you’re all here.

“So who’s this little guy?” Benny asks, putting his finger out for Jack to grab.

“Long story,” Frankie says, “but we met his mother on the way here, she was dying unfortunately, so we took care of him. She told us her brother was out in Wyoming with a group of people, that’s how we met these guys,” he gestures at the patrol dispersing around them.

“And now he’s ours,” you smile down at the grinning baby, “His name’s Jack, named after his uncle, but unfortunately he died before we found him, so we felt kinda responsible for little baby Jack.”

“He’s adorable,” Diana says, smiling at Jack and getting a toothy grin back, “And being parents suits you,” she says, “you guys look happy.”

“Yeah, you do, happy and healthy,” Will says, looking at Frankie who dips his eyes to his boots, reaching out and taking hold of your hand before he looks back up.

“We are…I am, really happy, and healthy,” he smiles, glancing over at you, “I’ll tell you all about it later, but yeah, I’m doing really good, better than ever I think.”

“Good to hear, man,” Benny says with a grin, clapping Frankie on the shoulder.

Maria approaches the group with a smile, looking at the newcomers.

“I take it these are your friends from Boston?” she says, holding out her hand and introducing herself to them all.

“I’m going to guess you’ve had a pretty long and rough journey so I’ll let these two take care of you tonight,” she nods at Frankie and you with a smile, “I can imagine you have a lot of catching up to do too. I’ve assigned all of you to the house across the street from the Morales’ for now, but there’s another empty house if you’d rather live separately with your partners.”

“Thank you very much, “ Will says, “We really appreciate it, thanks for letting us come here, taking us in like this.”

“Oh, we’ll make you work for it, don’t worry,” Maria grins, giving you all a wave before she walks off.

“C’mon,” Frankie says, “Let us show you your house and then we’ll sort dinner at our house.”

“I cannot believe you have a fucking house, Fish,” Benny grins as the six of you, and baby Jack, set off down the street.

“Yeah, I’m getting used to it now but it was weird the first few months,” Frankie says, “and then we got electricity, we managed to fix the dam last year, and it started feeling like normal life again.”

“You’ve got hot water?” Eve asks, you can hear the hope in her voice and it makes you laugh, you remember the feeling of the first hot shower you had once the electricity was working again.

“We do indeed,” you say, smiling at her as she bounces on the balls of her feet, “and lots of it.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to drown myself in a hot shower….” she sighs and Benny hooks his arm around her shoulders.

“You n’ me both, babe,” he grins, “together and-”

“And maybe we really should look into that other house Maria mentioned,” Will interrupts, as you and Diana laugh, “I am not sharing a house with my baby bro again.”

“Don’t worry,” you smile, “I’ll ask Maria which one it is tomorrow. There are still plenty of empty houses around Jackson.”

“This is us,” Frankie says, as you all arrive on your street, and he points to the dark green house that’s now yours, “And you guys are in this one, for as long as you want.” He points across the street to a pale yellow wooden house with a porch similar to the one that wraps around your house.

“Nice, very nice, you guys!” Benny is already pulling Eve by the hand towards the yellow house and you all follow them inside. It’s sparsely decorated but clean, most of what the previous owner left behind is still here.

“There should be clean towels and sheets upstairs and I’ll get you soap and shampoo from the community center,” Frankie says, showing them all around as you get the fire going in the living room and turn on the heating.

“It’ll take a while for the water to heat up but the rooms should start getting warm straight away,” you say to Will as he wanders into the living room again. You stand up and put the fire guard in front of the fireplace and he comes over and puts his arm around your shoulder with a smile.

“It’s really good to see you two again,” he says, looking down at you, “seeing Frankie doing so well, he looks like a new man.”

“Will, I’m really sorry we took off without saying anything to any of you, especially right after Santi…”

“I know, I get it,” he interrupts, “If you’d come to me and told me what you planned, I would’ve stopped you, or probably gone with you. I know you did the only thing you could to save Frankie, he needed to get away from Boston, from Joel, he wasn’t strong enough to withstand it.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to leave Diana behind, or bring her on a really risky venture,” you take his arm and lead him to the couch in front of the fireplace and you both sit down, “I know how loyal you and Benny are to Frankie, but I…I couldn’t risk your lives, or Diana and Eve’s, for Frankie’s problems.”

“Yeah…” Will sighs, “I understand, I would’ve done the same, if Benny had those problems, I’d do anything, but I wouldn’t want anyone else to risk their lives.” He nods, looking over at the fire that’s spreading warmth across the room, “He’s lucky to have you, what you did…” he looks over at you again and gives you a crooked smile, “you’ve saved his life more times than he even knows.”

“I know,” Frankie says and you both look up, he’s standing at the doorway, looking at you with a warm smile. “I know I owe her everything, even from before the outbreak, she was always way more than what someone like me deserves.” He comes over and sinks down onto the couch next to you and pulls you in under his arm, “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”

“Good, I’m glad you know it, or I would’ve had to let Benny knock some sense into you,” Will grins

“I keep telling you, you deserve a lot more than what you think, Frankie,” you say, leaning into him. His soft brown eyes look down at you and there’s a hint that maybe he’s starting to believe you, after all these years as he smiles. You can’t resist, even though Will is sitting right next to you, you reach up and press your lips to his, and you can feel him nip at your bottom lip. Will clears his throat, but chuckles as he shifts in his seat.

“Keep that shit in your own house, please.”

“Yeah, you’ve got an entire house to yourselves, please keep that out of my house,” Benny snorts as he walks into the room, baby Jack snuggled on his hip.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” you laugh as Jack happily tugs at Benny’s long hair.

“Yeah, he’s a cool little bean,” Benny grins as he carefully unfurls Jack's chubby little fingers, “and with a killer grip, ouch, little man, give me a break!”

“He used to tug at Frankie’s beard all the time,” you say, “he had to keep it short or Jack would rip all of it out.”

“And I know, I didn’t have much to start with,” Frankie says, “I’m just saying it before any of you point it out.”

His remark makes you all laugh and Jack happily joins in.

“I think the water is hot enough now, so I’m jumping in the shower,” Diana says from the doorway, “and there’s shampoo and soap and everything up stairs too.”

“I’ll come with you, honey,” Will says and pushes himself off the couch.

“We’ll let you guys get cleaned up, settle in,” Frankie looks over at you as Benny hands you Jack, “we’ll get dinner sorted so just come over whenever you’re ready, you know where we are.”

…

You glance out through your kitchen window as you chop some fresh buckram for the chicken, you can see Benny through the window of the other house, pulling a hoodie over his t-shirt as he talks to Eve. It feels surreal, but also like the most natural thing in the world, to have them here, in a normal world, finally. To have your best friends, and Frankie’s best friends, living across the street, cooking dinner for them, looking forward to a long evening of catching up.

Behind you Frankie comes into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, the tip of his nose pressed against your neck.

“Jack’s asleep, out like a light,” he murmurs, “too much excitement I think.”

“We should hire Benny as a nanny,” you smile, “they were great together.”

“Yeah, Benny was always great with kids, probably because he’s a big kid himself,” Frankie chuckles, “I’ll go let them in,” he says as you see the four of them leave their house, Eve gives you both a big wave as they spot you in the kitchen window.

You hear them tumble into the house, Benny is telling some story about deer and even though your back is against them you can sense Will’s exasperated eye roll at his brother.

You put the tray in the oven and clean your hands, grab the whiskey bottle Frankie has left on the kitchen table and follow the noise into the living room.

“So tell us, what took you so long to get here?” Frankie asks, pulling glasses from a cabinet, “and what happened to the radio, all we heard was that FEDRA shut it down.”

“FEDRA was listening in, like we suspected,” Will says, “They came in the next morning before Sean even got there and took everything, equipment, notes, spare parts, left nothing.” Will takes a glass of whiskey from Frankie and groans as he sips it.

“Good stuff, Fish…” he takes another sip, “And we had to run, we got a tip off from Sean’s grandkid that they were coming for us, were gonna take us for planning on leaving the QZ. We grabbed our bags and got out, didn’t plan anything, wasn’t time.”

“Shit,” Frankie mutters, “surprised you even got out of Boston like that.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t easy,” Will shakes his head, “we got caught just outside the wall, had to take down a couple of FEDRA soldiers and Benny was grazed by a bullet.”

“It was nothing,” Benny scoffs, “I’ve had much worse, and on the bright side, we got their guns and ammo, made things easier down the line.”

“Yeah, we ran into a bunch of raiders who tried to ambush us,” Will continues, “took them out and stole their truck, a FEDRA truck they must’ve stolen from a patrol. We made it pretty far in that but winter hit early in Nebraska, the roads were impassable and we couldn’t continue. So we decided to stay at an isolated farm we found, way off the main highway. It was untouched, full of supplies, the luckiest fucking find of my life, it saved us,” Will shakes his head, looking over at Diana, “it got pretty rough for a while there, before we found it.”

Diana nods, taking his hand in hers, “I don’t think we’d be here if Will hadn’t scouted ahead and found it. Eve and I were starving, didn’t have clothes for the cold, but Will got us through it, saved us.”

“Ironhead lived up to his nickname,” Benny grins, but he’s looking at his brother with a rare softness, “I was starting to give up on us just as he came back, middle of a fucking blizzard, barely any shelter, couldn’t light a fire in all the snow, we were all freezing. Di’s right, if Will hadn’t found that farm, we wouldn’t have made it.”

“Alright, tell us how you got here, Fish,” Will shrugs, changing the subject and taking a deeper sip of the whiskey.

Frankie gives Will a shrug in return, “It was rough, but we got here easier than you I think. We took that car we had stashed, and got pretty far in it. But we…I…” he looks over at you and you put your arm around his waist, giving him a small hug, “I had to stop, the withdrawals got too bad…she had to take care of me while I got it out of my system. After that we got half way through Nebraska, where we found Jack and his mom, and then almost all the way before we ran out of gas. Walked for two days before Maria and Pat found us.”

“I know I yelled at you over the radio,” Benny says, looking serious, “but I’m glad you guys left, even the way you did it, and I’m really fucking glad you got through it. I just wish you’d fucking told us how bad it got before it got that bad.”

Frankie nods, looking at the toes of his boots as he usually does, but then he draws a deep breath and lifts his eyes and meets Benny’s gaze, “Yeah, I should’ve told you all, right from the start, I knew you guys would have my back, but I was too ashamed, just too ashamed of admitting how bad it got,” he looks over at you, you’ve still got your arm around him and meets your eyes with a steady look, “I was afraid she’d think I was too much work, how fucked up I was, and finally give up on me,” Frankie leans forwards and presses his forehead against yours, “but now I know she’ll never give up on me.”

You smile and cup his cheek, letting your thumb stroke his scruffy beard, “Never Frankie.”

Frankie gives you a small smile before he sits up straight again and his eyes go dark, losing some of the softness they just had.

“One of us is missing,” he says, glancing around the room, “and it’s my fault. Pope should be here now too, but I failed him, I fucked up and he had to pay for it.” Frankie’s voice wavers before he draws a deep breath, you can see how he digs his fingernails into the palm of his hand. “I think about him every day, how much I miss him, h-how good it would be to have him here.”

His voice breaks and you can feel tears filling up your eyes as you reach out and take his hand, unfurling his tight fist, smoothing it out under your fingertips.

“You know Pope would be proud of you for how far you’ve come,” Will says, “you were always his brother, and because of it, he was always the hardest on you when you fell back into it. But now, Frankie…he’d be so happy and proud of you, with your wife, and baby Jack.”

Benny suddenly stands up, pulling Eve with him, raising his glass.

“We need to make toast, to Pope,” he says, looking around at all of you as you get to your feet. Frankie puts his arm around your shoulders as you lean into him, your arm around his waist, holding him tight.

“We should all say something to him,” Benny raises his glass higher, “we never got a chance to send him off back in Boston, but now we’re all here, together again, and safe, we should say something.”

“Go first then Benny,” Will says, motioning to his brother and Benny looks into the distance, gathering his thoughts before he begins.

“Pope, you could be the most annoying fucker ever, but the best wingman I’ve ever had, from the first day we met back in basic, to the very last. I miss you man, but I’ll see you again.” Benny fights to keep his voice steady and draws a deep breath before he looks over at Will.

He rubs his hand over his face before he slowly nods, “Santiago, you drove me fucking insane with your crazy plans, but somehow you always knew what you were doing and I learned to trust you and your instinct, it never failed us. My greatest failure is letting you down at the end, I hope we meet again so you can tell me how we should’ve gotten you out in time. I miss you brother,” Will looks up at the ceiling, raising his glass and you all do the same.

Frankie draws a deep breath, he doesn’t know how he’ll keep his shit together for this, but he needs to do it, with everyone here, it feels like Pope is listening.

“Hermano,” he begins, looking up at a vague spot on the wall, gathering his thoughts, before he feels tears well up in his eyes and he has to draw a deep breath, “hermano…I fucking miss you, miss you so fucking much. And…I…I have so many things I wish I’d done differently…but I did what you said the last time we talked. I got past it, with her help, and I did it for you, and for her. You said we’re family and I really wish Jack could meet his tio Santi. But I know you have a job to do, wherever you are, and I know you’re looking out for her until I’m there to see her again,” Frankie pauses, drawing a deep breath, his eyes overflowing as he looks down at his toes, “Tell her, her dad loves her. Te quiero, hermano.”

He raises his glass, taking your hand in his, holding it tight, and the others do the same, “For Santiago Garcia, the best brother anyone of us could ask for, for lost friends, for family, and for a better life.”

“For Santiago,” echoes around the room and you sip the sharp whiskey, letting it burn on the way down. You feel Frankie’s eyes on you and as you meet his eyes he leans closer, his lips finding yours, pressing warm and soft against your mouth.

“For family,” he whispers.

Epilogue

So here we are, at the end. As in most stories, the story continues, but outside the frame. There is an epilogue coming too, but this is where the story ends. I am pretty emotional about writing the very end of this, it's been with me since April and I never thought then that it would grow so much in scope, in length. I love these two fools so much and I love how much in love they are, how through it all it's what keeps the two of them together and fighting for the other one. It's very hard to say good bye to them and I'll miss them so much! But I think I'll have to update the intro to this story to help any new readers tackle it! I think I'm close to hitting 300k words… Thank you everyone for all your comments, your reblogs, your love, your encouragement and support! It's a cliche, but I never could've kept going if you all hadn't kept cheering me on, saying so many lovely things about the story and making me want to keep sharing the ideas in my head. Love you all!

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[trulybetty]

Stood Up | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 1,668 Warnings: being stood up, torrential rain (always bring an umbrella), mentions of alcohol, a difference of opinions on Top Gun and some could call this fluff Summary: Stood up for a date that left you in the pouring rain, you seek refuge in a sports bar and before you can change your mind the man next to you strikes up a conversation AO3: Linked

A/N: so, I was supposed to be working on Bookstore Frankie as per the WIP poll the other day and technically (in my head at least) this is Bookstore Frankie, we're just meeting him a long time before he becomes Bookstore Frankie lol.

Also, consider this is my entry for @pedrostories’ celebration, enjoy! xx

Stood Up

The Seattle rain was relentless. It wasn’t even supposed to rain that day, the forecast ironically calling for sun and highs of warm heat, which had meant you’d left the house in a maxi dress and your flimsy denim jacket. So that meant no umbrella and certainly no practical footwear for the torrential downpour you found yourself in for the date you’d left the house over an hour ago for.

You'd been stood up, and now, thanks to All-Star Week, cabs were impossible to find.

You checked your phone once more, Uber was a wait of over an hour, said date had left you on read and Cat, your friend with a text. One that promised as soon as she could get out of dinner with her husband and his parents, would come and get you with a bottle of wine to commiserate the evening over at your place.

The door to the dimly lit bar slammed shut behind you, cutting off the relentless sound of rain pounding the pavement. You were soaked to the bone, rain dripping off your hair to your face, and in a less-than-stellar mood. 

As you settled into a barstool and ordered a stiff drink, you tried to shake off the frustration. The bartender served you with an understanding smile and you were just beginning to relax when a voice from the end of the bar cut through the chatter of the bar.

“How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy?”

You looked up, and some guy in a ten-gallon hat made eye contact with you with a flourish of said hat and a wink. Based on the accent and the Texas Rangers shirt he was certainly from out of town.

Your eyes rolled at the cheesy attempt, dismissing it with a casual brush-off. The downpour seemed to amplify the irritation simmering within you. Tonight was not the night for clichéd pick-up lines, especially from individuals who seemed to believe they had some inherent right to your attention.

As you took a sip of your drink, you exhaled and began to second-guess coming into the bar. You prayed for Cat to show up soon and get you out of there. Looking through the window, you thought about downing your drink and fleeing for somewhere else less crowded. You were already drenched; what more could the rain do?

But before you could think on it any further from the other side of you, a deep laugh resonated, and you glanced over to find a guy wearing a ball cap labelled 'Standard Oil', a beer resting in his hand, his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“Can't believe that line didn't work. What's this world coming to?” he joked, raising his glass in a mock salute.

Despite your mood, a reluctant smile tugged at your lips, “A horse did me wrong once, a cowboy and I would be destined for heartbreak from the get-go,” you replied, playing along.

“How about a pilot?”

You raised an eyebrow, you hadn't missed the aviation logo on the shoulder of his shirt, “I feel like I’m being set up for a Village People joke here,” you eyed him wearily, “how often does that line work for you?”

He laughed into this glass as he took another sip, “A lot less than you think.”

You took another sip of your drink, “What a surprise.”

“Frankie,” he said, extending his hand.

You took it, his grip firm and warm and gave him your name.

He gestured to your soaked clothes, “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you admitted.

Despite your initial want to just drown your sorrows and maybe scroll through Instagram while you waited for Cat, you found yourself in conversation with Frankie. Turned out he was actually a pilot, a little elusive on the details of what exactly he did in the military, but a pilot nonetheless. That and he was currently stationed temporarily out of McChord Field, in Pierce County. He was up in Seattle for the weekend to meet up with some friends coming in from their own deployments.

Frankie's face turned playfully serious, his eyes widening as he said, “You're breaking my fucking heart, baby.”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, come on! You’ve got to agree with me?!”

He grinned, shaking his head. “I never thought I'd meet someone so smart and yet so wrong at the same time.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “I could say the same about you.”

Frankie's eyebrows shot up in genuine disbelief, and his lips curved into a playful half-smile as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “Not like 'Top Gun'? That's almost sacrilege in my line of work!” His eyes sparkled with amusement, revealing his lighthearted take on the situation. 

When he’d mentioned he worked in aviation within the military, you’d jokingly asked if it was all like Top Gun and if he was a Maverick. Frankie had laughed at the question as he’d flagged down the bartender for another drink for you both. That had been before you’d voiced your true feelings on the 1986 cult classic.

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “I don't know, maybe it's the cheesy one-liners, or perhaps I just don't get the appeal of fighter jets.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “The appeal of fighter jets? Oh, you're really twisting the knife now.”

You giggled at his antics. The more you talked to him, the more you liked him. He didn't take himself too seriously. It was refreshing, especially considering your recent string of bad luck in the dating department.

“I'm sorry, I just don't get it,” you admitted, shaking your head.

Frankie's eyes softened, and he reached over to gently touch your arm. “It's okay. We can't all have perfect taste.”

“You think your taste is perfect?” you teased, enjoying the banter that had been flowing between you two all evening.

“In some things,” he winked, making your cheeks heat furiously.

When your phone buzzed with a message from Cat, signalling that she was outside, you found yourself a little reluctant to leave. It was strange, feeling a connection with a stranger on a night that had started with disappointment, and a part of you wanted to hold onto that feeling a bit longer. Frankie seemed to feel the same way, his eyes lingering on you as you gathered your things.

“Well Frankie, thank you for being a bright light in what was almost a terrible evening.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” he replied, his voice warm.

The two of you paused for a moment, the atmosphere suddenly more serious. He'd already mentioned that he was stationed temporarily and had hinted at an upcoming deployment. And though the good company and the buzz from the drinks had lightened your mood, you were still reeling from being stood up by the man you'd really thought you'd had a chance with.

You waved goodbye to Frankie and headed outside, the rain still falling heavily. As you approached Cat's car, thoughts of Frankie lingered in your mind, leaving you with a strange mixture of excitement and melancholy.

You were just about to open the door to the passenger side of Cat’s car when the noise from inside the bar broke through over the sound of the rain. Turning around Frankie was coming out of the door, you watched him look around before his eyes settled on you with a smile.

Throwing up the umbrella he had in his hands he dashed the short distance over to you, “Look,” he shouted to be heard over the traffic and the storm that was now brewing, “I thought maybe,” he paused looking a little at war with himself before he spoke again, “we could do this again? Maybe without the rain and the cowboy.” he joked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and pressed a napkin into your hand. Under the cover of his umbrella, you opened it to see his name scrawled with his phone number and you shot him a smile.

“Call me?” Frankie asked, his voice suddenly softer, more intimate despite the storm raging around you.

“I will,” you assured him, tucking the napkin safely into your pocket.

With a final smile and a lingering look, Frankie dashed back towards the bar, and you climbed into Cat's car, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Cat, ever the observant friend, was already eyeing you with curiosity. “Okay, spill. Who was that guy? And why are you smiling like you've just won the lottery?”

You looked over at her, your grin widening. “That is Frankie. We just spent the last few hours talking in the bar.”

“Frankie?” Cat's eyebrows shot up. “Also, you stayed in that bar with a stranger for hours? That doesn't sound like you.”

And it really wasn’t, even going out for the date that eventually stood you up had been a push outside your comfort level.

Cat narrowed her eyes. “You sure you're not being catfished by this guy?”

You rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips. “Cat, that means online, not in person.”

“Same thing,” Cat retorted, not missing a beat as she started the car. “You never know these days.”

“Anyway, he's only here for a temporary assignment between deployments. Not like anything really is going to happen.”

Cat glanced at you, her expression softening. “It's okay to have fun here and there, you know. Doesn't have to be serious all the time.”

You sighed, leaning against the window. “I know. It's just… different.”

“Different is good,” Cat said, her voice softening as she pulled away from the curb, knowing all too well your past relationship history. “Different can be very good.”

You looked at her, realizing how much you appreciated her support, even with her teasing. “Yeah, maybe.”

Cat's smile widened as she focused on the road. “Of course I'm right. Now tell me everything about this Frankie guy.”

#pedrostories1k #frankie morales/f!reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier fanfiction

[juletheghoul]

The Party

AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There's infidelity here - so if that's not your jam no worries! Enjoy!

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.

Word count; 2k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

--

Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

My wife hasn’t looked at me like that in years.

“Sorry? I didn’t quite catch your name.” He instantly likes her voice and tries to imagine what she’d sound like in bed and for the first time in god knows how long he isn’t ashamed of himself. 

“It’s Francisco - you can call me Frankie.” He shakes her hand, holds onto it probably longer than he should and he knows his dimple is staring her in the face with the way he's smiling. “How do you know James?” He gives her a once over, almost subtly and he’s happy to see her fluster a tiny bit. 

“Oh um - ha I actually don’t - I came with a friend. Maureen - do you know her?” She fiddles with her dress, smoothing it down with her plump lower lip between her teeth. It’s endearing and he wants nothing more than to pull her close - to nuzzle at the hollow of her throat but she looks at his hand when he takes a sip of his beer and the spell is broken. She sees it, he knows she does and there’s nothing he can say. 

Fuck. 

“Oh, I’m sorry - I didn’t realize.” She frowns a little staring at his wedding ring, more flustered than before but now it’s out of embarrassment and he feels cruel, like he’d led her on in some way. 

“Yeah, that’s - sorry that’s-” He doesn’t know what to say to this lovely thing in front of him. 

Technically, yes I’m married but my wife has been cheating on me for years, I just got the proof I needed a couple of days ago and I’m going to divorce her ass. Wanna fuck?

“There you are, have you seen my purse?” His wife came in right on cue and then he was alone with her, a swirl of a skirt left in the pretty woman’s wake - he sighed loudly, not that his wife commented on it - or even noticed for that matter. “There it is - oh look - your buddies are here! Why don’t you catch up with them?” She didn’t look at him as she said it - too busy fixing her lipstick and he knew then that her side piece was here.

He felt nothing. 

“Sure honey.” He spoke the words to her back as she walked away from him - he couldn’t even remember when he stopped watching her go. 

-

The heat was crawling up your body, warming the apples of your cheeks with embarrassment and your legs couldn’t carry you away fast enough. You moved through the crowd of people you didn’t know, winding through the little groups of them while scanning for Maureen, hoping to catch a glimpse of the red shirt she’d been wearing - relief washing over you when you finally saw her.

“Hey- where’d you get to?” She smiled big, looking for the drinks you were supposed to grab. “No drinks?”

“Sorry- There were a bunch of people waiting so I came back.” You did your best to smile through the lie. “I’ll try again in a few.”

If he’s not still standing there.

Your stomach dropped at the thought of running into him again, a groan threatening to claw its way out of your throat. Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to be exactly your type? Tall and broad, with that cute dimple and those soft waves- married waves. 

Why did you flirt back?

This question annoyed you a bit, it burned brightly in the back of your mind while you tried - genuinely tried to listen to Maureen chatting about - well whatever the hell she was chatting about. 

You saw his wife walk past the two of you then, a very pretty woman with gorgeously thick hair and Ruby red lips lost in conversation with a burly blond man, if he’d told her that you’d flirted then it would only make sense that she’d glance at you but mercifully she didn’t. Thank christ.

Maureen laughed and pulled you away from your thoughts, introducing you to a few of her friends from college and you busied yourself trying to remember their names, muddling through polite conversation while also counting the hours until she’d be ready to go. It wasn’t so bad though- they weren’t so bad. Her friends, while maybe a bit pretentious, were all in all nice enough and it wasn’t hard to find common interests with a few while she made her rounds until your bladder pulled you towards the bathroom. 

The door to the powder room on the bottom floor was locked, in use. Goddamn it-

“There’s a bathroom just up the stairs and to the left-” One of the hosts saw you standing there and came to the rescue “-please feel free.” With a polite thank you, you climbed up further and further until the door was opening before you. The scene inside froze you in your tracks, it was the blond burly man and Francisco's wife in the middle of a hook-up. 

Your mouth gaped open for half a second before you shut the door - unsure if they’d heard you, unsure if they even cared. 

Couldn’t even be bothered to lock the door???

You ran down the stairs as quickly as you could, almost crashing into the person just coming out of the powder room and after a nervous shuffle from both of you, you were safely tucked away in the enclosed space. After relieving yourself, and splashing your face with cool water came the time to rejoin the fray - maybe if you could make eye contact with Maureen, she would see the discomfort on your face but that was a dead end - she was nowhere to be found. 

I need a cigarette. 

-

He was standing alone on the porch of the house, taking in the cool night air and it seemed as though the Gods or the fates or whoever was responsible for the day was thoroughly enjoying your discomfort. 

“Oh - hi.” He smiled his dimpled smile and it was almost too much - you didn’t know this man, you had no idea what was happening in their marriage but what you did know for sure was how fucking disrespectful it was of this woman to fuck another man while her husband was here. “You okay?” His head tilted, concerned, beautiful. 

“Yeah. Sorry um - you wouldn’t happen to have a smoke would you?” Fingers crossed he’d say yes.

“No sorry - I quit a long time ago.” 

Fuck me sideways, seriously.

“No worries.” You stood there, gawping at him as he leaned his hip against one side of the railings. His smile faded and a neutral realization took its place. 

“Was it with a blond man?” His words were stones in your stomach, boulders being dropped from a great height. 

“What?” You hoped against hope that he wouldn’t make you do this. 

I shouldn’t have fucking come out here.

“It’s okay - it wouldn’t be the first time. It’s funny - I didn’t want to divorce her until I had the proof and I got it a couple of days ago.” He sighed big but it didn’t seem sad or heartbroken. “I’m not naive, it’s nothing new.”

“I’m sorry - I don’t know what to say. Are you going to confront them?” The idea of him storming upstairs and pulling them out of the bathroom for everyone to see made your skin crawl with anxiety. 

“Oh no, nothing so dramatic as that, I don’t care to - haven’t cared in a long time.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just please don’t look at me like that.” You frowned.

“Like what?” It was your head that tilted now.

“Like you pity me - I’m okay, in a couple of days I’ll serve her with the papers and it’ll be done. For now I’d much rather you looked at me the way you did before you knew I was married.” He straightened as he spoke - taking a few slow steps towards you. 

“And how did I look at you before?” He was so tall, so broad and handsome. 

“You looked at me, like you wanted me.” He watched your mouth, licking his bottom lip as he spoke and suddenly it was too hot - your skin was too warm and your tongue followed the example set by him and swiping along your bottom lip. 

-

His grip is almost bruising, but his hands are so much softer than you would have thought and after a harder thrust one of them is sliding under your bra to hold the weight of your breast. 

“You feel so fucking good.” His voice is hoarse, the words clipped as he groans them into your ear. The plush swell of your ass is pressed up tight against his groin, his cock punching up into you in the back of his truck. 

I am letting a married man fuck me in the back of his truck, in a suburban neighbourhood.

The thought bleeds out of your brain with every snap of his hips, with every swirl of his fingers on your swollen clit. Your slick is dripping out around him, soaking the panties he roughly pulled down to fill your aching cunt. His cock sliding in so easily with how aroused you are and it takes everything not to scream out from how good it feels. 

“Feel how fucking hard you made me baby.” He picks up speed, pushing the air out of your lungs with the force of it - your eyes roll back - mouth a wordless ‘O’ as he steals the thoughts out of your head with the slip of his cock and the swirl of his fingers. “Talk to me baby- tell me it feels good.” He pulls you up, his hand moving up to cradle your jaw and bring you towards him in a misaligned kiss. All tongues and pants as he doubles down on his efforts to pull you apart. 

“It’s good - god it’s so fucking good.” Your words are almost slurred and he lets out a breathless laugh before he bites at your ear. 

You’re racing towards your orgasm, the tingle of it spreading from your center out through your limbs and when he pinches your clit between his two wet fingers you fall off the cliff. Euphoria burns through your veins, cunt clenching around him hard enough to make him groan from deep in his throat. 

“Where do you want it?” He grits it out through mashed teeth and you pull away, bending forward as best you can. 

“On my ass.” You pull your dress up past your hips, displaying yourself for him shamelessly. 

“Fuck-” He sounds pained and you can’t help but look back as best you can, the pain in your neck is worth the vision of him, his eyes down watching as he pumps his cock against your ass. One of his hands gripping you and with a shuddering moan he paints you in himself. “Jesus baby- fuck that’s pretty.” He rubs the sensitive tip through the mess on your skin before finally finding a tissue and wiping most of it away. 

The cab is steamy when you exit, your hair a mess, his shirt untucked but both of you giddy with post orgasmic bliss - wordlessly parting to join the party but not before saving your number in his phone.

After the blood has cooled and it’s time to go, he catches your eye at the door with a wink and a promise and as you walk out with Maureen you hope he’ll call soon. 

-

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#frankie morales/reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales fanfic #francisco morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie x female reader #frankie x f!reader

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis Chapter 6

Pairing: Frankie x f!Reader

WC: 9.2K

Rating: E

Warnings: Here we GO! We’ve made it to approximately the halfway point and the overall E rating for this story so minors DNI! I know some of this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea so heed the warnings… the beginning isn’t smutty and is definitely important so if you’d rather skip the smut just read for a bit and you’ll know when things shift— Also, Reader is hispanic (no physical description aside from accent and growing pregnant belly) and we dive a little deeper into her history— Fluff, smut, fingering, oral (m & f) receiving, pregnancy, pregnant sex, unprotected PIV (be safe y’all), normal bodily functions when pregnant i.e. lactation, reader’s horror at the realization, but Frankie doesn’t mind, lactation kink? Kind of? If you squint? Praise, dirty talk? They honestly don’t realize what they’re saying lol ummm I think that’s all, but please let me know if I missed something!

Summary: You see Frankie for the first time in two months. Emotions run high as he lays out his plan to deal with Tom.

A/N: I’m so nervous and excited to get this out…. We definitely still have a lot of story left to cover, but here is 9.2k worth of some much needed reprieve for these two. I’m sure there are mistakes aplenty, and I own them all. Everything started running together so before I just deleted the whole thing, I decided to say fuck it and post what I had. There’s also a good chance that I overused … and — but 🤷🏼‍♀️

Anywho, let me know what you think and as always thank you so much for reading!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When you walk in, you know exactly what is waiting for you. But seeing him, actually seeing him hits you harder than you anticipated.

He’s sitting in a chair set off to the side of the room. There’s a coffee table between his and another chair to match, but pushed back so it’s not in the way. There’s also a computer desk set up in the corner, to accommodate working guests. The kitchenette is small, but there’s a fridge, microwave, sink and even a full stove. The King size bed set to the back of the room is neatly made. Untouched, so you know Frankie hasn’t been here long. You know he lives in the City, so he must’ve booked the room for the sole purpose of your meeting. You look over and his eyes are trained on your form, looking at you from underneath his hat.

Frankie knew from your letter that you had agreed to meet with him, but he couldn’t help the intake of breath at seeing you. You’ve always been beautiful, so he’s not sure if it’s just the length of time since he’s seen you last or what it is completely, and even as cheesy as it sounds to himself, he feels his breathing basically stop. If only for a moment, but there’s been very few things in his life that have left him that way.

—Two months is a long time for anyone, but generally people don’t change very much physically in that amount of time. In this instance though, you are much further along than when he last saw you and he can’t help but think how absolutely perfect you are.

You make your way to the chair opposite him and sit down. He’s shifted now so that he is leaning toward you, but neither of you say a word.

He slowly reaches for your left hand. Asking permission without breaking the silent spell that’s cast itself upon you both. You graciously accept and he takes your small hand between both of his. His thumb lightly tracing over your knuckles. He’s looking at your hands now. The giant eye sore on your ring finger, his focus. He twists it around your finger absentmindedly. You both know how little meaning it truly has. At least any meaning that was worth something. A burden. A chain - tethering you to someone you’ve never held even the slightest bit of affection for, or received for that matter.

He spins it around until the face is no longer visible. Neither of you have spoken, but the silence is deafening; containing every single thing you both wish you could say.

You notice a small piece of hair falling over his eyes - still downcast on your hand in his. Without thinking, you swipe the hair to the side.

He stills at the contact—

Slowly he lets go of you entirely. You’ve touched him like this before, so surely he’s not upset?

He sits back and puts his right hand against his face; his palm almost covering his mouth and chin and his fingers rest near his jaw. His other hand is resting under his elbow… He rocks back, then forward slightly and his eyes find yours.

What is there to say? He knows the situation you’re in. He asked you to come here because he thinks he has a plan, but you know that nothing can be done in this situation. This situation that you thought of as a selfless act to protect you mother. How very childish of you..

But you had been. A child that is..

18 years old - a “legal adult.” Definitely not ready to be thrown into this world, evidenced by your idiotic decision to agree to this “deal” that has done nothing but hurt you. Not that you really had much choice in the matter at all. And Frankie… Oh Lord, Frankie knows most of the details, but you didn’t tell him everything. You worry that the look he’s giving you now will be replaced by that of pity or worse, disgust. That he won’t look at you like you’re everything— like he is now.

You are broken out of your thoughts by Frankie as he abruptly stands in front of you. You look up at him… A silent question on your face - ‘What do we do?’ ‘How do we fix this?’

He is looking down at you now… his breathing picking up slightly.

In this entire span of time, not one word has been uttered between you. He’s still looking down at you and you’re caught in his gaze. You don’t look away from him. Everything you want is right in front of you, but has never seemed further away. Being ignorant to a situation or just simply being unsure can make you sad and unhappy; this is true. But it’s nothing like knowing exactly what you want and also knowing that you can’t have it. There’s always hope that eventually you can change your mind or make a decision when you have a choice…. But this? It’s like being in a room surrounded by unbreakable glass with no doors. You see everything—everything you could possibly want, with absolutely no way to obtain it.

He shuffles around, turning away, then back again before finally resuming his place in the chair opposite you. His elbows are on his knees with his hands hanging loose between them.

After a moment, you take a deep breath and you stand up. He raises his eyes to you as you slowly make your way to stand directly in front of him.

You’ve got his full attention now. There’s maybe a few inches of space between his face and your much larger belly, that has grown significantly since you last saw him, and his focus is drawn to it. You take this opportunity to slowly brush your fingers along the side of his head… His eyes close as you push his hat back enough to card through his hair. You think to yourself how soft his hair is and how good it feels between your fingers. Both of his arms reach up and lightly brush your sides where they hover there. He won’t attempt to touch you in any way without your say so. He looks up at you now and your barely perceptible nod is all he needs before his hands lightly grasp your waist and he pulls you closer. He buries his face against your middle - Your belly getting in the way, but he pulls back slightly, and lays his right hand flush against it.

You feel like you are frozen… Not with fear, but with a feeling you can’t even begin to describe. All you know is that it is so good and so intense, that you never want it to end.

It’s at this moment, he leans forward and closes his eyes, whispering a kiss just above your belly button. The moment his lips touch the soft fabric of your shirt, you start to cry. Your tears are flowing unbidden down your cheeks, lightly splashing onto Frankie’s hair. He looks up and once he sees your tears, he stands and grabs both of your hands. He begins shushing you quietly. Whispering softly, “Shhh, shhh… It’s ok…. It’s ok….” as he pulls you in and wraps his arm around your head - bringing you to his chest while his other arm pulls you into his embrace. You reach up and place your hand on his chest, your face buried in his neck. Your other hand is against his back and you both just stay like that. You breathe each other in and let yourselves feel the warmth of the other. The sound of his heartbeat is a soothing rhythm to your racing mind. You reach your hand up to his neck and he is so warm. You hadn’t realized that after years without a loving touch, you are completely starved. Your hand continues moving up until you’re covering his cheek with your palm and you finally decide to look up. His eyes have been on you the entire time. Just waiting to see what you would do. He would hold you like this as long as you needed him to and he would cherish every second of feeling you against him.

He reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb barely brushing your bottom lip and your lips part at the feeling. His thumb stops and just rests there as his fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head just a little higher. His eyes are still searching yours— Asking you, pleading with you to do something. Your hand moves to the back of his head, playing with the hair that lightly curls there.

He tilts his head down and closes his eyes as his forehead touches yours. You close your eyes and your breath hitches as the sheer intimacy of the situation hits you… It’s not just a sexual tension, although it’s there, sparking like a live wire ready to catch flame - But, no… This, right now, is more soul encompassing. Safe and Warm.

—

After what seems like no time at all, the anxious part of your mind remembers what brought you here… other than just being able to see him again. —“Frankie?” Your soft voice a question, barely perceptible over the sound of his heart.

“Hmm?” He breathes the sound into your hair.. not ready to separate just yet.

“What’s your plan?”

—Frankie’s eyes open at that, but he still doesn’t want to move. You hear him sigh, and he very reluctantly pulls away, not far, but enough so he can look down at you. His arms are still wrapped around you lightly. You’re angled to the left slightly to make room for your belly…

“I don’t know how much time we have.”

—“Don't worry about that querida. Pope has Tom all the way in the City and he’s going to keep me updated on how everything goes. That’s why I wanted to be here in town in case things went south, so you would be close to home and could get there quickly if needed.”

‘Home.’ You flinch at the word. You don’t even know what a home feels like anymore.

“Ok.”

After a moment, Frankie steps back and motions back over to the chairs he was sitting in when you got there — For this part he wants you to be sitting. He knows that you’re not going to be happy about it, but after talking to the guys, well Santi and Benny anyway. Besides Will, the only people who know Tom better than even he does, it seemed like the most plausible option that could get through to him. If anything or anyone could, it would be in an environment that Tom knew. In a situation and setting that he was normally in control of.

“So, Pope has this job that he’s been begging all of us to help him with for the last few months.”

“Who’s us?”

“Our old team. Aside from Pope, there’s me, Will and Benny, and our fearless leader, Tom ‘Redfly’ Davis. It’s not on the books as a normal job, but kind of a free will mission.”

The confusion is evident in your face, but you don’t question it. He’s got a plan, so you just have to let him get it out.

—“This is, uh, well… I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I’ve thought about it. Enough to think that there’s a chance anyway. I’ve talked to the guys about it also, sparing details of course. But I talked to the people who know Tom the best. Santi and Will have known him longer than even I have and Santi agrees that this is the best way to try and get Tom to ‘see the light’, if you will.”

-You’re still confused. You don’t want to interrupt him, so you keep looking at him. Hoping it will start to make sense to you.

—“This job…. It would uh, require all of us working together as a team. Maybe as a team, we can also convince him that what’s been happening is wrong.”

You’re not sure what you expected, but talking to Tom? That was his plan??

“No. No, no, no, no, no…. Frankie, just talking to him isn’t going to solve anything. Tom may be your Leader out there,” you point toward the window. “But here?” There are tears running down your cheeks now. You told Frankie about your situation, but you didn’t tell him how deep it goes. He doesn’t understand that talking is pointless. Your emotions get the best of you and the floodgates open.

“Here, Frankie…. Here, Tom owns me. I’m essentially property. Sold to the highest bidder, who would pledge to keep me safe. My Abuelo…” you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

You breathe in, then out…. “My Abuelo promised me to him. After my Papá passed away, we went to live with him. I was young and the last thing I did was promise my Father that I would keep my Mamá safe and taken care of. I was an only child and she has always had problems with her health.”

—Frankie has been standing this whole time, so he slowly shifts to the chair and sits down. His face shows no emotion… he’s just taking in everything you have to say. You stumble a bit but eventually you work up enough courage to just spit it out.

“It was an arranged marriage, Frankie. Simply put, divorce is not an option. Especially now, being divorced and a single mother would be a disgrace to my family. My Abuelo knew Tom through family friends, Tom offered…. And so it just was….”

You look at Frankie and he is still stone faced. You continue despite the shame you feel at what happened next…

“Tom was handsome, had money, and was looking for someone to come home to when he was on deployments… You, well you know the rest.”

Your Abuelo had made it sound as though it was the perfect opportunity for you.

Frankie seems to take a moment to digest your words…

—“So what are you saying? That the only way out of this is ‘Til death do you part?’”

All you do is nod.

“But.. and please don’t think I’m being insensitive here, I’m just trying to understand.”

“Ok…”

“You don’t live in Cuba anymore. Things are different here. You’re allowed to marry and divorce as many times as you want! Hell, in some states you can marry multiple people at once!”

He’s breathing heavily. He doesn’t understand and can’t imagine why you would be such a stickler on this. Arranged marriages aren’t actually a thing here. Are they? Did you really not think you could leave a situation for any other reason than just not being happy??

“I don’t think you’re being insensitive. I know it sounds crazy.. It IS crazy. But Tom has done nothing but threaten to send her back to Cuba if I ever tried to leave. I could never let her go on her own. She needs me… and in Cuba, I would be divorced and now”— you motion to your pregnant belly, — “a single mother. I would be a disgrace to my family and I can’t do that to her. There has to be another way, but I don’t know what to do.”

—Frankie is thinking. There would be nothing to stop Tom. They could try to get him to have a change of heart. That was the plan… but for someone to be ok with the things he’s done and be complacent in it?

He had no idea that arranged marriages were even a thing. Some of the guys in their division would joke about mail order brides…. Women who (they claimed) would do just about anything for a Green Card, including marry a complete stranger with the promise of a cushy lifestyle. Frankie always thought it was pathetic how other men could be so shameless…

Not surprisingly though, he can recall Tom being in on those jokes… Imagining having someone sweet to warm his bed and cook his meals etc

He never dreamed that Tom would be capable of actually doing something like that. Not that those situations even remotely resembled what your life with Tom was like…. Just the fact that he treated you like property. That someone could feel about a person as though they were merely a possession to be used at their will rather than a living breathing human being.

No— Tom was a monster. And Frankie felt like a fool.

You were right. Talking wasn’t going to change anything.

So maybe they go on this mission and just… leave him there? What if? No… No Frankie wouldn’t think that way. There had to be a way to get you out of this.

—You see him thinking. His brow is furrowed and his hand is rubbing the bottom half of his jaw and the patchy scruff there… His eyes are focused on the coffee table. There was no way out of this. You knew it and Frankie was figuring it out too. He had been so sure in his plan. Santi and Benny had hyped him up that they could get through to Tom. The realization makes him feel sick.

Then suddenly he looks up at you.

His gaze is absolutely piercing as he stares you down. “So what then? There’s nothing we can do? You’re just stuck with this piece of shit you don’t even care about? Stuck with a man who treats you like garbage?”

—You’re looking at the floor now. Tracing the diamond pattern of the carpet to give yourself something to think about.

“I don’t know Frankie. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Sometimes we are forced to do things we really don’t want to do because not everything can be fixed. Not every story has a happy ending.”

“What’s your happy ending?” He says it so quickly and quietly that you almost miss it. When he says your name at the end you look up. “What? What did you say?”

“I asked, well I’m asking you, what would be your happy ending? If you could do things the way you wanted to, what would you do?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it because it was never a possibility.”

“And if it were? A possibility I mean? What would you do if you didn’t have to worry about Tom.?”

You have no idea honestly…. So you spout off with the first things that pop in your mind, aside from ‘You, you, you!!’ “Um, maybe, travel? Go see the world… make some friends? Maybe get a cat?”

Frankie chuckles at that… he knows Tom’s not a fan of animals in general. Really, he was the fucking worst. His stomach clenches at how this has taken such a shitty turn..

“What about right now? If you could do anything, what would you do?”

You think you know where Frankie’s taking this. At this moment, there is no bright side to your situation. No exit strategy, no get out of jail free card, no nothing. The future looks bleak, options are null and there’s only one thing that you want that you know you’ll never get…. And that’s Frankie.

You look over at him and smile. There could be no future with him. Tom would never allow it. And the thought crushes you. You’ve never been asked what you wanted for yourself if you had the choice and the answer is screaming at you Frankie! Frankie! Frankie!!

You’ve always sacrificed your wants and needs for someone else. You made a promise to take care of your mother and you would do everything you could to keep that promise. But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t have tonight. One little taste of something you’ll never be able to have again.. And tonight, Tom was taken care of.

He was out of town, probably already drunk and you know he fucks whatever he wants to when he feels like it. You’ve known for a long time now. You weren’t the type of person to cheat. You believed in the sanctity of marriage and what your vows meant. You didn’t love Tom, but you were stuck with him. But right now, for the first time in your life, you make the decision to be selfish.

Frankie is still looking at you and his expression is hard to read. He looks lost. The unfairness of the situation is making him angry, but he’s also soft. He wants you. He wants to do everything he’s not supposed to and everything he won’t be able to do again.

You both stand at the same time, and he comes to you. His hands find your cheeks and he asks “what do you want?” in a register of voice you’ve never heard from him before. It sounds desperate. His eyes are on yours and he asks again, softer, “what do you want??”

Your answer is immediate—

“You. Frankie…. I want you.”

“You already have me. You’ve had me since that first day at the diner. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tom won’t let me see you. Who knows when we will get to see each other again?

“I don’t care. I’ll figure out a way. I got you here tonight didn’t I?”

“Yes but it’s been two months Frankie… in another two months I’ll be a mother and we won’t be able to sneak away like this. This isn’t fair!!”

He pulls you forward and puts his lips to your forehead. You lift your head and find his eyes. Your eyes move down slightly and you find his lips and you suck in a breath. He’s so close, you can feel his breath on your cheeks. He smells like a light soap and a very distinct smell that is just his. The slight tang of gasoline mixed with the vanilla from his truck.

His hand makes its way to your chin and he lifts you to his mouth slowly. His lips are soft, and light just like last time, but he quickly pours himself into you and they become bruising. He breathes you in and immediately starts moving his hands across your arms….

Tears are running down your cheeks and you decide that you’re done fighting this.

Frankie’s mouth opens to speak and you stop him as you forcefully pull his lips back to yours. You begin peppering his mouth with kisses, like you can’t get enough…. Frankie has your hand and is playing lightly with your fingers as he pushes you back slightly. His tongue finds yours in what has turned into a flurry of movements and neither one of you knows where to go with this so you each just kiss every bit of skin you can find on the other. Frankie’s kissing the side of your head as you kiss the patch in his beard that never can fill in completely.

You run your fingers through his hair, knocking his hat onto the floor as he begins to kiss down your neck, and your entire body is on fire.

Hormones or not, the man knows how to use his mouth and every bit of skin he’s touched is illuminated and tingling and you want him everywhere all at once.

Your hands start to grab for his jacket… pulling at his shirt and running your hands up and down his stomach. You’re completely buzzing for him.

You can’t remember there ever being a time that you’ve felt this way. Tom having been your one and only, because, up until now, you held true to your vows even though it was a sham….. Even though you didn’t love him, he was your husband and you tried to make it work in the beginning. Tom was the one who couldn’t care less.

It angers you even more that you really did put so much into your marriage. You did everything you could to be the wife he wanted. You thought that things would change, and that maybe one day you could love him. Instead, he used you and never once

Frankie made you feel Wanted. He wanted you. He wanted you and not just for selfish reasons. He never made you do anything you didn’t want to. He never made you feel guilty, or inadequate, or like you didn’t matter. You always mattered to Frankie. He respected you and respected your choices in all things. If you were to stop, right now, and tell him you didn’t want to do this anymore, he would simply stop. No questions asked. He would never force you, or make you feel like your opinion was stupid. That realization hits you with such intensity that you’re drunk with it knowing that Frankie would always give you that power. Because it was yours.

You stop your movement, while still clinging to frankies’ shirt. You look up to him and your eyes are pleading. His brown eyes are blown wide and he nods - slowly pushing you backward toward the bed. His eyes never leave yours as the back of your legs make contact with the bed and you sit down. Frankie kneels before you… His hands are on your thighs, lightly rubbing up and down the soft material of your leggings. Your hands grab his cheeks and you pull him back to your lips— Tasting him again before you run your hands down his neck and inside the top of his t-shirt. You lightly graze his collar bone and he growls, his hands leaving your thighs to start shrugging off his jacket. Your hands find their way back to his hair and you pull slightly, bringing him forward so he is eye level with your heaving chest —something that has also increased in size since you last saw each other. You’re wearing a thin long sleeve charcoal gray top that has a scooped neckline that covers your growing bust, but would be very easy to move aside.

He leans forward and is kissing your neck again. Going slow, but very obviously making his way down your chest to the top of your shirt, he looks up at you and gives a greedy smile before turning his attention back down. His right hand has also been slowly making its way higher. Fingertips lighting a fire up your side until his large palm is lightly groping your breast —testing the weight in his hand… “God your tits are perfect,” almost to himself, but you heard him loud and clear.

“Frankie!!” You shriek in surprise at his choice of words… You’ve never heard him talk like that before and you feel your cheeks heat while something else churns in your lower tummy. “Sorry! Sorry, It’s uh, been awhile since I’ve.. been with someone. I don’t always think before I talk, especially with you. So, if I say or do anything you’re uncomfortable with, just tell me. Ok?”

“It’s ok,” you giggle at him. You’re not upset in the slightest. “I’m just not used to this. Besides Tom, you’re the only person I will have, um… been with like this.” You’re not sure why, but you can’t stop yourself before saying,

“But you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted like this.”

Frankie gulps and nods, before surging back up and capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. Everything in it tells you that he is going to take care of you. He slowly stands up and leans over you. Prompting you to scoot backward until he can kneel on the bed… His arms are on either side of your head, and you reach up and start running your hands up and down his forearm.

“Look at me,” he says your name and you meet his eyes. “If I do anything you don’t like…. Anything at all, please tell me.”

-“I will Frankie. I trust you.”

At the word trust, he silently loses his mind just a little. He gently caresses your face and pulls you in for another kiss, trailing his hand down your side before following the curve of your belly and resting his palm on top. “It’s not gonna, um, we’re not….” He sighs, not finding the right words. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or the baby.”

“You won’t hurt me Frankie. The baby is perfectly fine. At this stage, sex is completely safe.” You know that Frankie would never hurt you. You needed him to know that it was going to be ok.

“Ok. I’ve never uh, been with someone who was pregnant before.” His face flushes a deep red. “Me neither,” you say. His eyebrows almost reach his hairline and you have no idea where this sudden tenacity is coming from, but you couldn’t help it but to tease him.

“Frankie, it’s ok. I promise. It looks like this is just going to be a first for both of us then.” You smirk at him and he captures your lips again.

His hand starts teasing at the hem of your shirt until slowly going underneath. His hand is so warm and his rough palm feels amazing against your sensitive skin. He reaches up again, grasping your breast and squeezing it lightly, “This ok hermosa?,” Your eyes are closed so you just nod. The feeling is… overwhelming. He continues to massage your tender flesh until he his hand out and tugs down the top of your shirt, revealing your cleavage to his waiting mouth. He kisses the tops of your breasts and drags the fabric down further to expose your bra. It’s nothing special, but it’s functional while also providing comfort. He puts his hand inside, pulling you out completely… exposing your nipple to the cool air, but it is quickly replaced by a damp heat as his mouth completely engulfs the tightening bud.

“Oh my God, Frankie…” Your hands are back in his hair, holding him to you. His tongue starts lapping at you slowly, circling around your now hardened peak. The sensation is so intense, that you feel your arousal gather between your legs, and you shift slightly. Moving your legs together to give yourself some relief.

Frankie takes your movement as a good sign so he pulls you completely into his mouth and sucks, hard. Hard enough that your eyes go up into your head and you moan—the noise coming from you unrecognizable. Frankie just smiles around your nipple, sucking lightly while he takes in your reactions.

After a moment, he feels a little spurt of something in his mouth. He releases your nipple and looks down and you’re leaking. A thin opaque fluid dripping off of your nipple and onto your shirt. You look down when you feel his mouth leave you and you are absolutely horrified to see him staring at your leaking breast. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry…..” You go to sit up, but Frankie stops you.

“What are you sorry for Bonita?”

-“This! I, I didn’t even think about it….” the embarrassment makes you frantically attempt to cover yourself.

“Hey, stop. Stop. it’s ok.. It was just a surprise is all. It’s actually kind of sweet.” He smiles at you as he dips his head back down to taste you again.

Your brain completely short circuits at that so you just let your head fall back and savor the feeling.

Frankie moves to the other side and you are actually whimpering from the feeling of his mouth alone. His hand goes back to work and tweaks the nipple of your now neglected breast while his tongue wraps around the other. He can’t get enough of the noises you’re making and he has to shift his lower body to take some pressure off of his rapidly growing erection that is currently pressed tightly against the front of his jeans.

You bring your hand up to card through his hair. Watching him work you over with his tongue. The sight is probably the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen up until this point and you feel another gush between your legs.

Frankie starts to shift his attention lower to just under your breast and makes his way down, kissing your belly with a look of pure joy on his face. His hand makes its way to the top of your leggings. His fingers play with the waistband before dipping underneath slightly. He looks up to you at this. Another question on his face asking if you’re still ok.

You nod quickly and he keeps his eyes on you as his fingers slowly reach underneath the thin fabric. His fingers lightly move across your hip bone, moving inward. He’s still looking at you when his fingers reach your center only to find your underwear completely soaked through. He has yet to touch you skin to skin, but you’re squirming and desperate for him to add even just a hint more pressure to your aching center. Your hand reaches down on top of his, adding to the pressure you so desperately need. “Shhhhhhh… shhhhhhhh… I’ve got you….”

-“Frankie??” You’re pleading with him to touch you as he moves his face back up to yours. He’s still looking at you as his touch increases, gauging your reaction. The more pressure he adds, the more his mouth opens, ready to swallow your moans as soon as they leave you.

You cry out when he finally pushes his middle finger up against your clothed clit and rubs lightly. Fuck, Tom never gave a shit about your needs when it came to sex. Maybe in the beginning, but rarely. You were always left to take care of it yourself after he passed out. Most of the time you wouldn’t even bother. But this is Frankie… so you let the thought of Tom fall away from your mind and focus solely on him and how he is making you feel.

You’re breathing increases and Frankie removes his hand to caress your cheek again. He laughs lightly at your frustration, your pleas— “No no no… Frankie please, please don’t stop…” make him smile up at you.

He takes his finger and pushes it up against your lips to shush you. “Let me take care of you bonita. I’ve got you ok? Just let me know if I need to stop.”

And at that, Frankie shifts to his knees and makes his way down your body. Kissing down between your breasts, over your shirt to your stomach, to just above the waistband of your leggings. Looking back up as he hooks his fingers into them and pulls down. He leaves your underwear in place —the light pink cotton darkened by your arousal. He rolls the thin material down and slowly takes off your shoes one by one as he removes your leggings completely.

Once your legs are free, he wedges himself between them, kissing up the inside of your thighs starting at your knee. He slowly makes his way up from your right leg, across the top of your underwear and then back down your left. Every touch of his lips on your skin has your hips arching up of their own accord.

“So impatient, Querida.” He tsks. “Trust me, I’m going to savor every bit of you.” You’re dizzy with his words so you just nod and lay back. You do trust him, so you let him take control and try to slow your breathing.

Frankie reaches up and laces his fingers with yours, holding you in place as he finally, buries his face between your legs. He breathes in deeply, and lets out a shaking moan. “God, you smell so fucking good….” the last word ending with a whine. He still holds your hand, but uses his other to gently pull your underwear up between his fingers. Pulling it tightly up against your swollen clit a few times, before moving it completely to the side, exposing you to his hungry mouth.

Frankie said he was going to savor you and he meant it. He is going so painfully slowly, when all you want is for him to put your clit in his mouth. Instead, he is breathing you in, rubbing the scruff of his cheeks against you. The feeling of his facial hair against your over-sensitive skin makes you almost growl.

He’s teasing you, but only to add to the anticipation of what is to come.

Finally, finally his tongue peeks out of his mouth and lightly runs up your soaked seam, from your dripping entrance to your clit. “Oh my GOD….Frankie???” Your pleas turn into whispered praises.. “Francisco, oh… mierda. Si…”

You let out a string of nonsense in English and Spanish and Frankie just chuckles to himself as he continues. Your accent becomes thicker as you lose yourself, that you honestly don’t even realize you’re saying anything. Flattening out his tongue, he gently lays it on your clit and starts moving his head in a circular motion. Dipping down every so often, bringing more of your arousal up to your peak.

Your pussy has him feeling drunk. Your sweet musky taste, like water to his parched mouth. He drinks you in, your pussy already so fucking wet, his head spins with it. He can’t believe he’s getting to taste you like this. He’s known how he’s felt about you for a long time, but to actually be here? With your fucking pussy in his mouth? Fuck, he thinks he could come just from the thought.

Frankie kisses up your seam slowly, kissing every inch and finally leaving a kiss on your clit before sitting back and looking up at your face. You look every bit the mess that you sounded like… Your forehead is damp, your hair sticking to the side of your face. You’re looking at him now with a confused look… Why did you stop? sitting on your lips. —He just smiles and brings himself forward, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. He pulls away quickly and moves back down, hooking his fingers under the band of your underwear and ripping them down your legs.

He takes your right leg and pushes it up, bending your knee so your foot is flat on the bed.

He then takes your other leg and hitches it over his shoulder. You settle your foot on his back, pulling him closer to you. He immediately takes his fingers and makes a V shape, running it from your clit all the way down, squishing your lips together and back up again. He takes a moment and sucks your clit into his mouth at the top of the V of his fingers. You could almost cry at how good it feels.

“More Frankie, please, please…..” You need to feel something inside you… This entire time, Frankie hasn’t breached your entrance, even with his tongue and you’re getting desperate.

He knows what he’s doing, but he wants to hear you tell him. “What do you need, querida? Tell me what you need.”

“Need to feel you. Need you inside me, Frankie please.

“Yes ma’am..” And at that you feel him drag his index finger from the top of your clit, down, down, down until gently pushing into your weeping sex.

“Oh, oh fuck.” Your words come out in a gasp as he resumes his place at your clit, wrapping his lips around it while slowly pushing in and out of you. You are wrapped so tightly around his finger, that he’s hesitant to add another, but your moans of more, more have him lightly testing the addition of another.

The feeling of his mouth on you while simultaneously fucking his fingers into your throbbing core has you almost flailing on the bed. Your hands spread wide on either side of you, your leg wrapping around Frankie’s head, you worry that you're going to hurt him, but he’s humming encouragingly into your pussy so you take it as a sign he’s ok. Finding his head with your hands, you grip his hair and slowly move him up and down. Frankie is just as affected by the action as you are.. “Fuck yes baby, use me,” comes his garbled reply.

If you weren’t so close to going over the edge, his words would have you blushing like a virgin. But if anything, right now it only spurs you on and you shudder against him.

Frankie can tell you’re close, just by your whimpers and how you’re practically grinding his face into you. He curls his fingers up and focuses on the little spongy area there, while sucking your clit into his mouth again, using the flat of his tongue to rub side to side. Your grip on his hair tightens to the point of actual pain, but he loves it - loves knowing that it's his mouth and his fingers that are doing this to you. You arch up and your orgasm hits you hard… Flooding Frankie’s mouth with your slick and almost crying at the intense feeling. Frankie works you through it. Slowly moving his fingers in and out as you come down. His tongue is barely there, but still lapping at you, the feeling adding to the aftershocks and you are shaking with it.

When the clenching slows, he slowly withdraws his fingers. He holds them up above you so you can see your slick dripping as he spreads them in the air. Then he brings his fingers to his mouth and moans as he sucks them clean.

Frankie scoots up, coming to your side and running his hand over your belly lightly. You turn to him and he’s looking down at you, “that ok hermosa? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You laugh at that, because you’re sure you may have actually ripped out some of his hair. “No Frankie, you didn’t hurt me. That was… mmmmm..” He kisses you and you hum lightly into his mouth. You’re completely sated for the moment, but his kisses are quickly becoming more frantic.

The heat in your lower belly begins to stir and your hands start to wander. Reaching down you just barely lift his shirt, grazing the soft skin of his stomach. You’re still technically clothed from the waist up, but so far the only thing Frankie has taken off is his jacket. You grab the hem and lift up. Frankie helps you by sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head. His chest is bare, save for a little patch of hair in the center of his chest and a line of hair leading underneath his navel down to his jeans. He leans back down and kisses you again, his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth and you let it.

Frankie’s hand trails up and down your sides, reaching down and grabbing a handful of your ass as he pulls you toward him and brings your leg over his hip. He starts to walk his fingers down the back of your thigh, then brings it back up to play with the swollen lips of your pussy from behind.

He swallows your gasp and moans into your mouth, still toying with your puffy lips.

You start to kiss down his cheek, down to his jaw and behind his ear, nibbling on his earlobe a little bit, which gets you a growl of pleasure out of him. He leaves your backside, opting to grip your thigh for leverage as he lets you take control. You slowly move down his throat until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder where you lightly suck, leaving behind a couple of bright red spots that you secretly hope he’s able to see tomorrow.

You run your lips down to his collarbone and you take your time there. Licking up and around, before kissing down the hollow of his throat. Frankie is still gripping your leg, tightening his hold and squeezing fingerprints into your thigh with every pass of your tongue. His breathing has increased and when you look up at him, his eyes are on you. His pupils are blown wide and his cock is throbbing, but he wants to see you like this. He wants to see you navigate his body and see what you do with it, without interference.

You take a moment to reach up and kiss his mouth again. His eyes close immediately and he just breathes you in. Your scent is everywhere. In the air, in his nose, on his tongue and subsequently yours. He nips your bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth, before you pull away and tap his nose with the tip of your finger… He tries to bite it, but you quickly pull away only to slowly move it down to his chest. You toy with the soft patch of hair there before lightly drawing lines across him, moving to circle a nipple, then the other. Now that gets a reaction, and his whole body shudders as goosebumps cover his chest. You lightly scrape your nail across his sensitive skin, back to his left nipple before replacing your finger with your mouth, flicking it with your tongue and Frankie groans “fuck, beautiful…. You’re killing me..”

—You just wink at him before blowing slightly, making the pebbled flesh tighten to a hard peak. Frankie huffs a shaky breath, and you are enjoying his reactions just as much as performing the acts themselves. You want to see what else you can pull out of him, so you kiss across his chest and pull his other nipple into your mouth, giving it the same attention as the first. Slowly circling with your tongue and giving it a quick kiss at the tip. His hands move to your hair and lightly comb through it with his fingers. He loves feeling you like this — knowing you’re in control and he’s just along for the ride.

You continue to kiss down his abdomen, his tummy soft, and you start rubbing your nose through the light dusting of hair there before you follow the trail down to the top of his jeans. Your hands have also started their own exploration; running up and down his thighs, moving up to his side and watching his abdomen shake with how sensitive the skin there is. You make a mental note to see how ticklish he is, should you get the chance to be this close to him again. For now though, you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You scoot down slightly, and begin trying to work the button of his jeans with your fingers before his hands stop you. Confusion showing on your face as you look up to him; “you don’t have to do this querida..”

—You quickly reach up and put your finger to his lips, “Frankie, shhhhhhh…. I want to do this. I want to make you feel good”. -You were going to kill him with just your words alone. You had no idea how they affected him.

“I want to taste you. Will you let me Frankie? Can I taste you?” — He’s a fucking goner… Frankie is sure he just fucking died and went to Heaven and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

All he does is nod with his mouth slack jawed and his cock begging for attention just underneath your hands.

You slowly start working the button of his jeans, lightly fingering the line of his zipper with your index finger all the way down between his legs —teasing him, purposely trying to torture him, but in the best possible way.

You walk your fingers back up the now very prominent outline of his length, to get to the zipper and slowly unzip him the rest of the way. You do to him what he did to you and you pull his jeans down just a little bit, running your hand over his boxers, but just barely. Lightly running your fingertips from the base of his clothed cock, up to the tip, you scratch the head ever so gently and Frankie actually gasps for air at the feeling. “Oh fuck!”

You feel wetness at the tip and see a small wet spot. Without thinking about it, you reach over and flick your tongue over the top, tasting the salty precum and moaning at the warmth radiating through his boxers.

—Almost instantly Frankie’s hands are in your hair, pulling it back slightly and tucking a stray piece behind your ear as your tongue continues to lick at him. Your saliva only adding to the growing wet patch in the fabric. His breathing quickens and his body is almost shaking.. you finally decide to show him some mercy by ripping down the waistband of his boxers and jeans and enveloping his cock in your wet mouth without warning.

“Ohhhh shit.”

“Shit. shit!! Oh my God baby, fuck… your mouth… fuck, you’re so pretty. Pretty fucking mouth….” — He’s sputtering complete nonsense… half sentences full of praise and absolute filth.. You love it—

You slowly lap at the underside of his cock, making your way down to the base and back up again. There’s another drop of precum at the tip and you want to taste it, but instead you grip him in hand and rub the tip with your thumb— the slick making your swipes smooth back and forth. Now you come up and taste him. His musky scent has your mouth watering, saliva pooling under your tongue. You let it drip from your tongue onto his tip and stroke up and down with your hand. “Holy shit….” comes Frankie’s gravelly voice, unaware that he was still watching you. But you basically spitting on his cock has Frankie looking absolutely feral.. His pupils are black yet again and you think ‘how many times can they do that before they pop out of his head??’

“Was that alright?”

All he does is nod and you smirk up at him before slowly diving back down onto his cock -keeping eye contact the entire time. His mouth drops open, but his eyes never leave yours, his cock like steel in your hand.

You keep up the pace, bobbing up and down slowly, stopping occasionally and licking at the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock that makes his eyes squeeze shut and he moans out curses in Spanish almost every time.

—Your left hand trails up his leg and reaches inward, grazing over the soft skin of his inner thigh before reaching his balls, your touch pulling a hoarse groan and more curses from Frankie. Your right hand is now pumping the base of him that you can’t fit into your mouth while you continue sucking and kissing at his tip.. The words coming out him now make you hum to spur him on. No real train of thought, just praises and whatever is coming into his head at the moment;

—“Fuck…. Fuck baby… Could live with your mouth on me, God…. can’t fucking wait to feel you. Fuck… Want you to ride me… wanna watch your perfect tits bounce while I fuck you…” The words leave his mouth in such a rush, that you’re not sure if he’s truly talking to you or if he’s just thinking out loud. His eyes are still closed and his breathing has increased. You could probably finish him with not much more effort, but you’ve been aching to feel his cock inside of you, so you slow your movements.

Frankie checks in at the sudden shift in speed. You pull your mouth off of him and nod slowly. You lean forward and kiss him, continuing to pump him with your hand. You slowly maneuver your body over him —as easily as you can with your belly at its current size anyway— and position yourself above his cock. The tip red and swollen, weeping precum from how close you had gotten him with your mouth. Frankie finally realizes what’s happening and his eyes shoot open and find your face. “I… are you sure?”

“I’m sure Frankie. I want to feel you.”

—“Come ‘ere…” Frankie surges up and captures your lips. You use the movement to help steady you as you line him up with your entrance. You breathe out slowly into his mouth and you both moan loudly as you sink yourself down onto him. You go slow, to allow yourself time to adjust to his size. Tom hadn’t been small, but Frankie is definitely thicker and you want to savor the feeling of being stretched out by him.

Frankie’s hands are on your waist now, eyes closed and just feeling you as you slowly pull him in all the way until you feel his coarse hairs against your clit. “Oh my… Oh my God Frankie…. Oh…. Fuck.” You start to move, rocking your hips slowly in a circular motion.

—“Yes, fuck, you feel so good. I’m, I'm not gonna last…. fuck..”

Your hips move faster, finding a back and forth rhythm as your hands land on Frankie’s chest… nails scraping down, grabbing for purchase to try to keep your body upright.

His hands on your waist are almost bruising now with how tightly he’s gripping you… moving you, grinding himself into you….

His right hand winds around to your back and he almost sits up, burying his face in your breasts. Your back is damp with sweat, but he holds tightly… putting his right hand behind him on the bed to prop himself up. You hold his head to you and kiss his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck and moving with him. This angle has him hitting so deep inside you, your breathing is coming in broken moans and your toes are curling. You’re coming almost instantly when you feel him reach between you, finding your clit and rubbing in smooth circles with his fingers. His hips stuttering, trying to find his own release, but wanting you to come again first. There are tears running down your cheeks from the sheer intensity and you cry out. Your walls are contracting around him so hard that it’s only seconds before he’s following you… painting the inside of your pussy with his warm come and panting nonsense into your mouth as you both try to even out your breathing. He’s kissing you again, but slowly… toying with your tongue languidly as he comes back down to earth. His cock softens inside you, and you just stay. Neither one of you ready to pull apart just yet.

—Frankie starts to rub his face against your breasts, pausing to kiss between them. He takes a nipple into his mouth and just holds it there.. his tongue slowly lapping up what you’re sure has been leaking since you started earlier.

You run your fingers through his damp hair, trailing to the back of his neck and scratching lightly at his scalp. His eyes stay closed and he hums, enjoying the feeling. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relaxed in his life… never more at peace than just holding you like this.

—He never wants to let go.

Before long though, you feel him start to tense slightly, but he’s made no move to break apart from you. You think the high has begun to wear off and the gravity of your situation is hitting him…. As it is you.

Where do you go from here? There’s no plan in place… There’s no straight path from here, that brings you back together again. You know that once you leave this space, leave Him, that there’s no telling when or if you’ll get to see him again. You pull him tighter to your chest as the realization yet again washes over you. New tears fall freely down your cheeks and you just hold onto him. Frankie… who has done so much for you, who has made you feel more like a real person in the short months you’ve known him than you’ve felt in your entire life.

—You pray for an answer, a solution that you desperately hope ends with you being free to be with the other.

You feel Frankie lean down and kiss the top of your belly. The act so endearing to you; What you miss though, is Frankie whispering a prayer of his own. A prayer to keep you safe and a promise that he would find a way to be with you again. Both of you.

—

Taglist: @boliv-jenta @heythere-mel @hnt-escape @harriedandharassed @just-here-for-the-moment @something-tofightfor @readingiskeepingmegoing @bitchwitch1981 @sunnysidekit @littlemisspascal @queridopascal-main @dashavau @imaswellkid @quica-quica-quica @mymo-n @wildemaven @pastelnap @tanzthompson @jb2856

A/N: There are definitely some flow issues with this one, but I kept getting stuck. Hopefully it wasn’t too awful to get through, but I appreciate any and all feedback, just be kind. I also wouldn’t mind an extra beta if anyone is interested, on top of my girl @just-here-for-the-moment who’s been with me through this since the beginning. Thank you all!

#frankie x reader #frankie x you #frankie x female reader #frankie x f!reader #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie 'catfish' morales #francisco catfish morales x f reader #francisco morales #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier au #triple frontier fic #frankie morales fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #amaryllis #amaryllis chapter 6

[milkymoon2483]

Tension | episode 3 - Occupational hazard

Series Masterlist

Previous

Pairing: Francisco Morales x female reader

WC: ~6300

Summary: Frankie doesn’t call or text, until he has a back issue again that is. You're a little  mad, and he finds a way to apologize. 

Disclaimer: Same as the last time basically; I’m not a massage therapist. The thoughts and actions described in this one are, as the title says, unprofessional. I do not mean to sexualize the job massage therapists do. I only mean to oil Frankie up in order to eventually serve you all with some deep-fried filthy smut, like you deserve. *There are edible massage oils. Google says so. *Assume they had the whole ‘are you clean? Are you on the pill?’ convo off-screen.

Rating: E. MINORS DNI. 18+ 

Warnings: SMUT with all capitals. This is porn ma'am. Unprotected P in V, Oral (F receiving), fingering, and a bunch of other goodies. 

Occupational hazard

Text her pendejo, just pick up your fucking phone and text. You’ve been thinking about it non-stop. Just be done with it. What’s the worst that can happen? She thinks you're a creep and she will politely ignore you or tell you to find someone else. Just stop torturing yourself and text the girl.

Frankie repeated the conversation he has been having with himself a few times a day for the past week. A sharp pang hit his gut every time you crossed his mind, he began feeling almost guilty, but then again, maybe you weren’t expecting him to text at all. The bouts of self doubt came and went, where he’d be feeling confident and sure of himself one day, he would somehow manage to convince himself that he had no basis for that feeling the very next.

Why would a sweet, funny, pretty girl like you would actually want him? What business did you have getting involved with someone this damaged? He didn’t want to seem like an over- eager old creep. The thought paralyzed him, made him disregard any notion of you reciprocating his feelings.

When Joel called asking to borrow Frankie’s truck to move his notoriously heavy couch, he found himself insisting on helping him with the move. The nine foot brown leather monstrosity was being shipped off to the junkyard, to the great delight of Joel’s wife, Melissa. She was ecstatic at the thought of finally replacing it, after thirteen years.

The words left his mouth before he had a chance to regret them. “Joel stop being an ass and let me help you, your back is fucked up and Mel will kill you if you try to do it by yourself”

Frankie was making a good enough point for Joel to reluctantly agree, with the promise of feeding him some lunch when they were done. Melissa was more than happy to cook for whomever got “Jabba the couch” out of her house.

The drizzle intensified as Frankie was driving, he hated the rain with a passion and it filled him with a sense of unease, like it was somehow attacking him personally. He knew however that this had to be done, and it had to be done today, since the new couch was arriving later that afternoon. 

Suddenly the thought of you crossed his mind, the inviting treatment room, dimly-lit and smelling of fresh laundry and essential oils. Your warm deft hands on him, the sweetness of your voice and your smile. It filled him with comforting warmth, maybe texting you wasn’t such a far fetched idea after all. He didn’t let his mind wander further to the swell of your ass and the way that your top seemed to cling to your perfect breasts, otherwise he would be arriving at Joel's with a raging boner.

45 minutes after they started, the men were finally able to get the couch out of the front door. Both were already panting and sweaty and they still had a long way to go. Thankfully the rain subsided and they were able to load it onto the truck faster than anticipated.

“So… how do you like your new massage therapist?” Joel asked with a knowing smile.

“She’s, yeah…she’s great, really helped me” Frankie replied, hanging onto some last modicum of discretion. 

“She did now, didn’t she?” Joel cocked his eyebrows.

“Fuck off man, she gave me a massage. Yeah it was really good” Frankie scoffed. He’d say you’re also funny and charming and hot. But he already saw the shit eating grin spread on Joel’s face.

When the truck backed into the junk yard Frankie already noticed the dire state of the muddy ground, that was sure to make their job harder.

The rain picked up again, soaking into their clothes as they attempted to unload the brown behemoth. They pushed it slowly out of the back of the truck, attempting to support its weight as much as possible. The couch was hanging by a thread, half of it still on the truck and the other half held by both men. That was when Joel’s boot slipped. He laid his weight on the couch in an attempt to brace himself, causing it to topple over the edge. Frankie’s instinct to try and stop it from falling over was clearly misguided as he felt a muscle in his back pull, before he leaped backwards, landing flat on his ass in the mud. 

The hysterical laughter that ensued was inevitable, and ensured Frankie and Joel that they both were fine.

An hour and a half after they departed both men strolled into Melissa’s aptly named mud-room, soaking and filthy.  Frankie can sure pull this look off. She thought to herself as she took their sight in, immediately bursting into laughter herself.

“My heroes! Looks like Jabba put up a fight. Let’s get you cleaned and fed” she chimed.

*******

Another day passed without any messages from Frankie, you were past feeling disappointed, veering into the indifferent zone. You were still mad at yourself though, waiting for him to throw you a bone like some kind of hookup that never bothered texting after the fact. How pathetic.

You understood that there were some things that were not supposed to come into fruition. You didn’t really know him, there could have been a thousand different reasons for him not to reach out. The sting of unfulfilled potential was bound to wear off eventually.

You were sprawled on the couch after a particularly long day, watching Brooklyn nine-nine for the umpteenth time, still in your work clothes, minus the bra.

The soft *ping* of your phone went unnoticed.

It was three AM when you woke up, delirious and confused, you were greeted with the “are you still watching?” Netflix message. It took a while to register exactly where you are and how you fell asleep. You threw yourself on the bed, vowing to shower in the morning, when your hand landed on your phone that laid discarded on your comforter.

You picked it up to check the time, but your eyes went straight to the notification instead. You blinked twice just to make sure you were not imagining this. 

Hey there. How are you?I wanted to ask if you have any appointments available soon, I think I pulled a muscle.ThanksFrancisco.

Really??!

“Hi there”..?! “I pulled a muscle”?!You repeated his message out loud with the most mocking tone you could muster.

You put your phone down, realizing quickly that a three AM response would probably be ill-advised. You could fume about this for a few hours and respond when you were calmer, and in a more reasonable hour.

I’m ok, thank you. Thursday 18:00.

It took you four hours to come up with this. 

You hit the send button and quickly tossed your phone aside, with every intention of ignoring it for at least four hours more. 

********

Great, see you then. 

He replied back nervously. Is she pissed? 

Frankie was talented and accomplished in many fields, texting however, wasn't his forte. He debated whether or not to ask anyone about this, opting to share with Melissa. 

After a brief retelling of what happened between you, she concluded with confidence; 

"Oh, she's definitely pissed." 

"But Mel, What the hell did I do?" He was confused. He had a general feeling, that maybe the flirtation was a bit too much and it creeped you out, maybe you were only treating him because he's friends with Joel, and that you want to keep it professional moving forward.

Melissa however had an entirely different explanation. 

"Francisco, sweetie, that's not it. It's what you didn't do. God how do you men even function, when every non-technical detail needs to be explained to you?!" 

"Huh?" Was his only response.

"You have a degree in aviation and can do advanced math in your head, but this is beyond your comprehension?" 

The face she made was truly bewildered.

"You flirted her face off, gave her a kiss on the cheek, made it purposefully 'hot' as you admitted yourself, and then, you did nothing. Not a call or a text. Just silence" 

"Oh" it seemed so painfully obvious when she explained it that way. 

"And then, after more than a week passed, you asked to schedule what is essentially a work appointment for her" 

"Oh..fuck" Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his face in embarrassment. 

"Yeah, fuck indeed, no wonder she's pissed. Shit men are dumb."  

Frankie nodded. Yeah we are. 

*******

17:23 the clock glowed. Your five pm canceled, causing the time to crawl even slower, each second stretched like a piece of old gum, now that you had nothing better to do than sit and wait for him.

You plucked your eyebrows and picked at your nails and even watered your lone plant, the one that managed to survive. You named it Harry, the fern who lived. 

17:34 You proceeded to eat a banana, then a cookie, then brushed your teeth because said cookie left a strange taste in your mouth. A part of you wished he'd cancel too. The affect of him has worn off, but you knew that the moment he walks in it will undoubtedly return with a vengeance, punching you harder, hitting you faster.

17:48 You checked yourself in the mirror, for the eleventh time. You were mad, but you were not about to let him catch you looking like crap. Push up bra was back on. And perhaps a tiny bit of tinted lip balm, and maybe some strategically placed perfume. 

17:57 *Ding Dong* 

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the doorbell. You stopped yourself for a moment, closing your eyes and repeating your mantra. He’s just a client.

The motherfucker was wearing a sweater. How dare he. 

The thin-knit forest green material hugged him perfectly, extenuating the broadness of his shoulders and the soft definition of his pecks. The white t-shirt peeking from the collar was the final straw, pulling your eyes onto his long neck, bringing out the sun-kissed hue of his skin. 

“Hey” He smiled softly, turning his eyes to the floor as he walked in.

“Hi” you replied simply, dryly. Stretching a polite fake smile on your face, trying to ignore how goddamn infuriatingly good he looked. Sweaters were your personal kryptonite. 

He’s just a client.

The air was tense when you walked into the treatment room. Frankie’s gut was in knots as you kept quiet, not letting any pleasantries slip past your lips. He understood now that the ball was in his court, Mel made that perfectly clear.

“Can we talk for a moment?” He asked hesitantly.

”Is it treatment-related?” you replied, as calmly as possible.

“Well..I don’t think it is” He took a deep breath before he continued.

“See, I meant to text you but I didn’t want you to think..”

“Frankie, I think it’s best if we talk after.” You stopped him mid sentence. You assumed you knew what this was about, but letting him stew for a bit seemed like a good idea. Maybe your hands on him would help jog his memory as to why he needed to apologize in the first place.

Truth be told, you were afraid that no matter what he said you would not be able to continue after that, so you asked him to wait, not to change anything between the two of you just yet.

“Yeah, we can do that” he replied. Unsure of himself.

“Now, can you tell me which muscle you think you pulled?” This was your attempt to pull on the “therapist” mask, to resume your role as the clinical professional. 

“It’s right around here” he pointed to his mid-lower back. You assumed it’s around the T12 vertebrae.

“What happened?” You asked, genuinely curious as to the reason he finally contacted you.

“I helped Joel move a couch to the junkyard and landed on my ass in the mud” 

“Ouch” You chuckled at his response. Serves you right.It was damn near impossible to stay mad at him. 

Your hands slipped under his sweater as you prodded him through the soft cotton of his tee. It felt so intimate, so incredibly personal, even more than when your oiled palms glided all over his skin.  He could feel the ghost of your breath at the back of his neck as you leaned a little closer and it made his skin prickle, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

You could smell him, inhaling deeply the soft clean scent of his soap. You bit your tongue, fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him, to cling to his warmth. This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

As he was getting ready, you stared at the door of the treatment room. You couldn't help but imagine him pulling off his sweater and tee with one swift motion, revealing his bare chest, the muscles of his back rippling under his skin, the long arms pulling the fabric, the way his hair would bounce. Every single detail you could think of seemed to spur you on, causing the heat to pull between your thighs. 

He’s just a client.

Gone was the indulgent want for you to touch him, it was replaced with a desperate need. A low huff left his lips as soon as your hands were on him. Finally  However he might have wronged you, your touch felt like forgiveness, a soothing balm on his nerves. 

Why did he wait so fucking long? What the hell was stopping him? Was it wrong for him to want this for himself? Was he truly so far beyond redemption that he didn’t even deserve this?  The thoughts that swirled in his mind began to quiet one by one, brushed off by the slide of your hands, melted by the drizzle of hot oil.  

“I’m going to warm you up before we take care of that knot” you stated, granting him another delicious slide up his back. You relished every centimeter of skin at your fingertips. 

“Mhmmm” he purred back. God I missed that sound. 

He shuddered with excitement as he felt the bed dip beneath you. You climbed on and settled on his left. You began pressing into his muscle but the angle wasn’t right, you needed to change the position. 

The gentle tap on his thigh encouraged him to spread his legs as you rolled the sheet back off his left leg. He was confused but followed along, he would comply with anything you’d ask of him.  He swallowed thickly as he felt your knee between his thighs. 

Now your thumbs rolled into his aching muscle again and again, the knot was easy to find and each swipe of your hands hit it accurately. You could see his face contorted with pain, and you knew it would hurt, he tensed up and grunted as the pads of your fingers dug deeper into him, unwavering ,circling the painful spot over and over again.

“I know it’s painful” you said quietly, attempting to assure him that it will not be long now.

“No good deed goes unpunished” he replied with a slight chuckle that made you smile. 

The truth was, he was thankful for the pain, the only thing distracting him from the heavenly heat emanating from your core. He could feel it on his leg and it took everything in his power not to imagine you riding his thigh. The heat crept up his groin slowly, clawing towards his cock, unstoppable and unrelenting. He was afraid that a moment would arrive when the pain was not enough. 

If he only knew.. if he had any idea… You counted his vertebrae and listed the latin names of his back muscles one by one. Trapezius, Deltoid, Teres Major, Latissimus Dorsi…Desperate attempts to think about anything other than the warmth radiating off him, the graze of his thigh against yours. 

The knot was almost gone now and you slid the heels of your palms on both sides of his spine one last time.

"Ow!" he yelped. “I think…when you slide your hands like that, I think some pain is radiating..lower?” He didn’t quite know how to explain the sharp pang in his right butt cheek.

“That’s quite possible actually, that you have some other knot we missed and it can definitely radiate onto your glutes. Can I check?”

“Is that your professional way to ask me for permission to touch my butt?”

“Guilty as charged. It also happens to be the largest muscle in the body… so I have a perfectly good excuse” 

“Well, I’m at your mercy, as usual” He turned his head backwards as much as possible and  smiled his soft signature smile, banishing any traces of anger or annoyance you might have been holding on to.

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” You smiled back now. His heart felt lighter at the sound of your voice.

“I’ll repeat the motion and you tell me exactly where you feel the pain” 

You slid your hands again and watched his face scrunch up. He pointed his hand on his right buttock. 

“I’m going to have to tuck those a bit higher” you pulled at his boxers gently.

“Mhm” he nodded and swallowed thickly. This might be a problem. Shit. 

Gently but efficiently you rolled his boxers up, exposing a soft little butt cheek. Tiny pale stretch marks ran across its side. You tried not to stare, but looking at it was a part of the job.

Such a sweet little ass. Was all you could think of as you ran oiled up fingers up his thigh and onto the tight muscle.

Frankie took deeper breaths now. Doing everything in his power not to clench at your touch. 

For a moment he felt a relief as you now focused on his butt cheek and dug your fingers deeper into the painful spot, but then you added oil onto your hands. And then you began sliding down his hip in a smooth inward motion. Tips of your fingers brushing so closely to his inner thigh. Again. And again. And again. Blood rushed towards his cock with every swipe. So close, your hand was so fucking close.

Shit. SHIT. No no no…shit please not now. He knew this could happen, at some point it was bound to happen, but this was really fucking bad timing.

He was gone now, no force in nature could stop the tightening in his abdomen and the painful hardness of his cock, which was now pressed fully into the mattress.

It twitched with every swipe of your hands, as the tension in his lower stomach grew, as he attempted to fight the consuming urge to rut his erection against the bed and find some relief. Waves of shame and arousal crashed into him one after the other, as his mind desperately scrambled for a way to explain or excuse himself.

You progressed down Frankie’s leg, and you felt him tense up, his breaths shorter and quicker. You could say you were oblivious to the situation, but something inside you knew, or at least suspected, that he might be having that kind of a reaction. Because something inside you knew that your touch was too purposeful to begin with.  You couldn’t say which little demon encouraged your fingers to softly brush against the most sensitive parts they could reach, but the mere thought of him growing harder from your touch made you feral. 

What felt like history’s longest fucking foreplay, had you both on the very last edge.

“Turn around please” You used the calmest tone you could pull from your mouth.

Too distracted by the dirtiest thoughts on one hand, and the attempts to calm himself down on the other, Frankie was startled by your request.

FUCK.

“ummm…I…ummmm…” He did not know how to approach this.

“Is everything ok?” You asked, noticing his apprehension.

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just..umm..fuck” Frankie leaned on his forearms and gave you the most apologetic look, before glancing downwards, pointing to the source of the issue as discreetly as possible.

“Oh..” the message sank in as you gave him an understanding nod.

“Yeah… I’m sorry” That’s it, she’s gonna kick me out, fuck.

“Frankie, it’s ok, really, it’s totally fine, it’s natural, nothing to apologize for” You attempted to reassure him.

“I just, I really don’t want you to think that I’m a creep. You’re just so good..your hands are so amazing..I really didn’t mean for this to happen, do you…do you want me to go? I can go..” He rambled as his face turned bright red.

“I don’t want you to go, and I don’t think you're a creep Frankie. Quite the opposite. I thought that was obvious” Guess we are doing this now. Oh well.

“Really…What’s the opposite of creep?” He smirked, amused all of a sudden.

“Well…tall, sexy, and a little smug, apparently.” Your heart pounded in your throat as you smirked right back at him.

He chuckled, too pleased with your response to have a quick comeback.

“Turn around Frankie.” Your voice was calmer, more commanding now. “Ok” Frankie swallowed thickly and turned to lay on his back, still leaning on his forearms. The sheet covering him pulled to the side, revealing the unmistakable tent in his boxers.

You tore your eyes away after only a split second, but it was just enough time to see it. Well happy birthday and Merry Christmas to me. The sheer size of him was blatantly visible even through the thin dark material. 

Looking in his eyes was far more challenging, you moved closer to him as he pulled himself up to sit on the bed and face you. You felt your blood drain from your face, pulled towards your stomach, laced with equal parts anxiety and arousal.

You stood closer now, almost between his legs, and you laid a careful hand on his chest.

“Do you..do you want to stop?” you asked, averting your eyes from his.

“Fuck no.” he responded, smiling softly “Thought that was obvious” 

You smiled back, lifting your eyes at him, meeting his warm gaze. 

Keeping his eyes on you, he took both of your hands in his, laying soft gentle kisses on your palms, brushing your fingers against his lips, reverently worshiping the hands that brought him so much pleasure and relief. You could not look away now, as he laid a tender kiss on each knuckle. It was the hottest, most sensual thing you have ever witnessed. His kisses flowed gently up your arm, pulling you closer towards him, until your faces were inches apart. You took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, as he cradled your face in his large palm. 

"C'mere" he whispered, leaning in and finally pressing his mouth to yours. His lips were so soft, warm, pliant and sweet. You allowed him to deepen the kiss, swiping his warm tongue into your mouth. His kiss was deep but unhurried, allowing him to taste you properly. Frankie saw no need to rush this, he wanted to enjoy every second and every inch of your body. 

You carded your fingers through the soft waves on the nape of his neck and pulled even closer, flushed against his bare chest. 

His arms brushed your sides, fingers reaching under the soft fabric of your tee, hot against your skin, asking for permission. You nodded, not breaking the kiss, as he slowly rolled it up and pulled it off.

Large arms engulfed you fully, pressing you against him, running along your back, to the swell of your ass, and back up towards your neck, like he could not touch you enough.

Frankie pulled the bra straps off your shoulders one by one, relishing the opportunity to undress you slowly, leisurely. He unclasped the back with one deft hand. 

“Impressive” you teased

“Beginners luck” he chuckled back, resuming the open mouthed kisses on your neck, cupping your right breast in his hand, enjoying the softness, the weight of it. 

When you climbed on the bed, he laid you on your back. You weren't used to this position, could not remember an instance when you were the one laying down. 

“Are we really…doing this? I mean, is this ok with you?” Laying on top of you might have not been the best timing for the question, but he needed to make sure. 

“Eh…it’s an occupational hazard” You shrugged, before bursting into a giggle. 

"What is?" His brows furrowed for a moment, and he looked too adorable not to kiss.

"That thing you've got there…" you cocked your brows, lowering your gaze.

"I'll take that as a compliment" he chuckled. He'd take his cock over a six pack any day. 

"You should"

"I will"

"Good"

“Yes, Frankie, this is very ok with me” you said softly, tucking loose waves away from his forehead before pulling his mouth back to yours.

Frankies lips traveled down, he took one pebbled nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around , a perfect mixture of hot and cold, soft and hard. 

"This is so fucking ok with me” you mumbled, grinding your clothed pussy on his thigh. You could feel him painfully hard, pressed against you, as you cupped him through his boxers. It felt even bigger than before, and the thought of him opening you up and stretching you out sent a sweet wave of anticipation straight to your core.

"I wanna take care of you, please?" He asked softly.

"Please", you said, practically begging him to touch you. 

"Can I…use the oil?" he whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps along your side, pressing soft kisses to your neck and down the slope of your shoulder. 

"Sure…it's almond oil” you nodded, pleased beyond belief that this man took all of 5 minutes to figure you out.

It was so intimate, perhaps too intimate, but you trusted Frankie, something about him put you at ease. You knew his body and now it seemed fitting for him to get to know yours in the same way. 

He lifted himself up, caging your legs between his knees and gently pulled on the elastic of your pants, as you lifted your pelvis to allow him to slide them down your legs. He reached for the oil on the stand next to the bed. The hot liquid pooled in his hands and he rubbed them together. He laid his large warm palms on your thighs, sliding them downwards, rubbing the soft flesh and spreading the oil, then moving back upwards from your knees to your hips. Frankie was mesmerized by the glow of the slick on your skin. He repeated the motion, more confident now, earning himself a sweet purr from your lips. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked hesitantly, requiring a little more encouragement.

“mhm…Yes…” You answered, breathless.

His hands slid back up, tips of his fingers reaching under the hem of your panties, as you flooded with arousal and anticipation. He repeated the motion again, this time brushing his thumbs closer to your inner thighs. A soft little moan left your lips, making him smirk. He continued sliding his hands down and back up, getting closer and closer to your core. Your thighs clenched together and hips bucked slightly, begging for his touch where you needed him most. But Frankie was enjoying himself far too much, at last he was the one doing the teasing and you were the one writhing at his touch. 

He ran a careful thumb on your clothed pussy, testing the waters. He kept his eyes on your face, making sure you were comfortable. The slacked jaw, heavy panting and white knuckles from grabbing at the sheet beneath you told him everything he needed to know.

He kept circling your clit above your panties, watching them get progressively more and more soaked. “This is where you want me?..hmmm?” he teased while his fingers ran along your slit, making you impossibly wetter and needier. 

“Fuck, Frankie!” you whined.

He chuckled at your impatience. 

His hands ran up your inner thighs again, taunting you with every inch of progress towards your throbbing cunt, he brushed the tips of his fingers under the band of your panties “Can I take these off?” 

You lifted your hips and allowed him to slide the soaked fabric down your legs.

You laid exposed before him. "Fuck your'e beautiful" he whispered. 

He added more oil, before sliding his palms from your breasts, down your belly and onto your thighs again. His hands traveled back up, unable to stop himself from relishing in the addictively soft texture of your body at his fingertips. He spread the oil further, circling your nipples, then brushing along your ribs, down the dip of your belly button, and back up to your clavicles. He marveled at your smooth skin, shiny and golden under the dim lights.

"Spread your legs for me baby” he rasped, you obliged immediately

“Good girl" 

With the gentlest touch, he ran two thumbs on the sensitive lips of your cunt, spreading your glistening folds. You whimpered, clenching around nothing. 

He oiled his hands again, letting it drip from the tips of his fingers onto your pussy. You shuddered at the sensation of each drop. He gently spread the oil between your folds, mixing it with your arousal. His index prodded your entrance before sliding inside, slowly pumping in and out of your tight wet heat. 

Mesmerized, Frankie lowered himself to lay between your legs, and licked a thick stripe up your slit. "Pretty pretty pussy" he murmured, circling your clit with his tongue, then dipping it into your hole, drinking you up.

You couldn't tell exactly what Frankie was doing, but the limited amount of times men have gone down on you, it never felt like this, not even close. Arousal and heat bloomed between your thighs, spreading along your belly, crawling up your limbs and down the tips of your toes. He seemed to be speaking directly to your core, whispering soft nothings, making the filthiest promises and coaxing out every ounce of pleasure.

Your hands laced into his hair, fingers gently tugging at the roots while he ate you out like you were his last meal. There was a generosity to his movements, like he could happily spend a day between your legs.  Your hips bucked at him, asking for more. "You need another finger baby? To get you ready to take my cock?"  All you could do is moan louder. The filth this man spoke so freely drove you insane. 

Frankie added his middle finger, sliding it in with ease as you were dripping on his knuckles. The coil in your belly tightened, with each swipe of his tongue on your clit, Frankie could feel you drawing close. He purred, alternating between licking and sucking gently at the perfect spot just under your clit, pushing you over the edge of a cliff into a pool of pleasure. Your body convulsed as you squeezed him tightly between your thighs, he could feel the flutter of your walls on his fingers, and the wave of slick that poured out of you into his awaiting mouth. "Yes baby, yes, give it to me, taste so fucking good" he muttred, drinking everything you could give him. 

After you came down from your high Frankie kissed his way up to your lips, the lust drunk look in your eyes told him what you could not. 

“Wow” when you finally spoke, that was all you could manage.

“Are you ok? Do you wanna stop?” He asked, softly brushing away loose strands that stuck to your forehead. 

You tsked, shaking your head slowly, and proceeded to whisper in his ear “I want you to fuck me Frankie" peppering kisses on his earlobe and behind his ear. Goosebumps erupted across his skin and ran down his back. His cock twitched at the sensation. 

“Fuck baby, your’e gonna kill me”

"Since you've already killed me, it only seems fair" 

"Well, how can I argue with a pretty girl asking to be fucked so sweetly? 

"You better don't"

"Wouldn't dream of it" 

You pulled him closer again, kissing him lazily through your post orgasm haze, sneaking a curious finger through the hemline of his boxers. Frankie's breath hitched as he felt you swipe his sensitive tip, leaking with precum and screaming for relief. You tugged on the band, encouraging him to take the fabric off. 

Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Heavy and thick and perfectly veiny. It was your turn to reach for the oil, bringing your loaded palm to his throbbing length. You stroked lazily at first, as Frankie mumbled curses and prayers, not taking his eyes off your hand wrapped around him, spreading the warm oil all over his shaft, gently running your thumb on the tip. The smooth delicious glide of your oiled hand felt better than he could imagine, drawing him impossibly closer to his release with every stroke. 

"Fuck..as much as I thought about this, if you dont stop, I'm gonna cum"  

"Really? You thought about this..?" 

"Mhm…I also thought about other things" 

"Such as?" You asked teasingly, pulling him to lay in between your legs.

"Such as this.." he rasped, notching himself at your entrance. 

You canted your hips at the sensation. He sank into your heat with a groan, slowly pushing himself to the hilt. The delicious stretch made your walls flutter. "shit Frankie, move, please" you begged, whimpering with need. 

Your legs locked on his back as he began to slowly buck his hips, gently opening you up on his girth. For all his mass and strength he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed the column of your neck, nibbling at your chin, before your mouths latched onto each other, breathing each other's air. Frankie’s pace picked up slightly. “Uh…uh…fuck!” you moaned with each thrust, the coil in your belly tightening. You could hear the obscene squelch of your slick each time he pounded into you. Frankie lifted himself up slightly, eyes entranced and black with lust as he watched his glistening cock slide in between your puffy folds, spurring him to go harder and deeper still.

He hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you up with surprising ease. You straddled his hips, leaning back on one arm to balance yourself, gripping into his shoulder with the other. 

He began fucking into you faster, and your hips moved to meet his with every stroke, the angle making his length hit impossibly deep within you. Your bodies moved in sync, shiny with sweat and oil. "Good girl, use my cock, take what you need" He muttered as he felt you approaching your release. You climbed higher and higher, your cunt gripping onto his cock like a vice, until one final stroke pushed you off, made you soar. Pleasure searing through every cell, pouring into every crevice, exploding in thousands of tiny bursts.

Frankie felt your release pulsating on his cock, he fucked into you as deep as he could, gripping your hips with bruising strength, roaring as he flooded your core with ropes of his hot spend. 

Frankie collapsed on top of you with a groan, chest heaving, mind blown. Both of you too fucked out and spent to speak, breathing heavily in a synchronized pace.

He nuzzled into your cheek, kissing across your face, until he reached your nose and placed a peck on the tip, before reaching your lips again. 

You exchanged lazy kisses, nibbling and licking into each other’s mouths, slowly coming down from your respective highs.

“Holy fuck” you rasped

“Yeah, holy fuck indeed” Frankie replied with a coarse voice.

“No, I mean, holy fuck this bed is sturdy. I never tested it like that before”  You teased. “Also, you blew my brains out, can I make you some tea as a show of my appreciation?”

“Only if you give me one of your sex mugs to drink it from” Frankie chuckled back.

“Sure, I’ll even throw in some cookies to sweeten the deal” 

*******

You stood in the kitchen, the dim glow of the pendant light above the counter illuminating your bodies, nude and barefoot, still emanating heat from your previous activities. Frankie snuck an arm around your waist as you poured the boiling water into the mug.

It felt strangely familiar, his warmth engulfing your senses, you could get used to this. 

You welcomed the gesture, brushing away the notion that it felt too intimate, too good to be true. You’d never let him know, with your quick wit and your casual demeanor, how nervous you truly were, because this was something special. 

Just enjoy it, this, him.

As if he sensed your post-coital nervousness, Frankie asked sheepishly. “So..I've been meaning to ask you, before the…um…crazy sex. Can I maybe take you out to dinner?” 

“I’ll think about it” You chuckled with relief, setting the freshly made cup of tea in front of him.

Frankie looked at it slightly confused, it had a picture of an Excel spreadsheet with the green logo on it. After a few seconds he began to laugh, “Freak in the sheets” was written in black across the bottom. 

“I’ll take it as a compliment” he smiled at you, that sweet soft smile with the creases around his eyes and the dimple you could not resist.

“You should” you giggled back.

“I will” 

“Good”

FIN.

Thank you so much, I also tagged anyone who reblogged part#2, hope it’s ok with you. You will not be automatically tagged in future fics unless you ask me to.

@romanarose @hbc8 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @astroboots @welcometostayingawake @damnyoupedro @kirsteng42 @boysddontcry @miraclesabound @jump-over-my-fence @wildemaven

#massage #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales/reader #frankie catfish morales #pedro pascal #smut fic

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Mittens

Winter Prompts Masterlist | Winter Prompts List

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Prompts: Mittens/ Kid/ Parent and child's teacher/caretaker/nanny

“Mr. Morales? Mr. Morales!” 

You jog after him, smiling as he slows and turns to face you. You tighten your jacket around yourself against the evening chill as you slow.  

“Sorry to yell, but,” You finally catch up with him and draw something soft from your pocket. “Grace forgot her mittens on her desk today. I'm sorry, I meant to give them to you during the conference, but it just—It completely slipped my mind.” 

Maybe it’s not a complete surprise that it slipped your mind. Your parent-teacher conference with Mr. Morales had been drifted repeatedly from Grace’s performance in class (which was excellent), and turned toward work, personal interests, and holiday plans. You’d always managed to turn it back to Grace—but the two of you had spent nearly three times longer speaking than you had with the other students’ parents. 

“Oh! Thank you—Sorry,” Mr. Morales mutters, taking his daughter’s grey and pink mittens from you. 

“What are you apologizing for?” You ask, shaking your head. 

“Oh, I, uh…” His brow furrows, gaze lifting from the mittens to your face. His eyes sweep it before he admits, “I don’t know. Felt like the right thing to say, I guess.” 

You shrug a little bit, tucking your hands into your pockets. 

“You really don’t have to apologize. I should be apologizing to you.” 

“You did.”

“Right,” You chuckle nervously, eyes lowering to his chest as you raise a hand to scrub bashfully at the back of your neck. You glance up again to find Mr. Morales watching you still. Your smile widens before you nod over your shoulder. “I should go—and I should let you get back to Grace. It’s getting late.” 

“She’s at her mom’s this week.”

Nerves twist up your stomach, your hand flexing in the strap of your bag. 

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mr. Morales offers. He glances over toward your car before he clears his throat. “Listen.”

Oh—Damnit. He’s gonna tell you that this is unprofessional, that he doesn’t want his kid’s teacher cursing like that. You’ve gotten that complaint before. One more mention to your department head and you might be screwed—

“I know I already kept you pretty late, but...Would you like to go grab a drink or—Or dinner, something?” 

Your eyes widen in slight surprise, nerves melting to flattery. You can see Mr. Morales’ nerves beginning to overtake him in turn. He'd had the same wary expression when he’d walked through your classroom door that evening. 

“I would really like that,” You nod. 

He blinks once, seeming as surprised as you were just a moment ago. “You sure?” 

You laugh, unable to help it. “I am absolutely positive, Mr. Morales.” 

His smile widens into something bright and beautiful, his head dipping a touch, shading most of his face beneath the brim of his hat. 

“I, uh…I’d prefer it if you called me Frankie.” 

"Okay, Frankie," You nod, taking a step closer so that you're toe to toe. "Where are you taking me?"

Tag list: @amneris21 ; @elen-aranel ; @brandyllyn ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight

#He's taking her to bed probably #he's at least getting a makeout and a handy in the parking lot. but this is fluffcember not smutcember here dangit #Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales x You #Frankie Morales/Reader #Frankie Morales/You #Frankie Morales fic #Frankie Morales imagine

[spacecowboyhotch]

Sinner’s Refuge

summary: comforting Frankie’s one of the easiest things for you to do— it’s hard for him to believe that.

pairing: gn!reader x frankie morales

contents: hurt comfort, PTSD, discussion of alcohol/drug recovery, low self-esteem, crying, cuddling, kisses, happyish ending

AN: first short stab at writing frankie, and i just wanted to write something a little sad and a little comforting. this is set a few months after the movie. hope y’all enjoy!

word count: 1.2k

misc. masterlist | requests are open

He let himself drive all the way here. Crossed the dingy town, clouded by a thunderstorm just to sit outside your house and feel like a burden. He shouldn’t have gone out, shouldn’t have downed those beers this early in his second shot at recovery. Fuck. He’s not sure he should ever drink again. Those meetings say he shouldn’t, his verdict’s still out.

What he is sure of is that he needs you but that he doesn’t deserve you. You’re the only person who knows that he did more than run cocaine. He’s never gathered the strength to tell Pope, not because he’ll feel judged but because he can’t bear to see that look of pity anymore. But you don’t pity him. You see him, just him. None of the missions, bullets, or planes. None of the drugs. None of the bloodlust or baggage compacted into every inch of his body. Not unless he wants to talk about it.

He watches the raindrops hit his windows, trickling down, and he feels like he's back in those waters. Traipsing through deep puddles that splash in a war zone that he had no business being in. Heavy gun in his hands, the splash of red and pink as bodies they all promised wouldn’t fall hit the ground. His chest is tight, rising sharply with each short shallow breath as he tries to bring himself back to reality.

His fingers dig harshly into the leather seating under his thighs, and he closes his eyes and mutters to himself that it’s okay. He should’ve just gone in. If he was with you this wouldn’t be happening. But he doesn’t deserve you, so maybe this is what he gets. He’s culpable for all the things he’s done and this is his punishment, a heavy cross to bear.

A knock on his window sends him straight forward, his face almost hitting the steering wheel before he looks over to see you standing outside. He lets out a deep breath and shakes his head, clearing out only some of the thoughts he’s having. You motion for him to come out, taking a few steps back to give him room with a concerned look on your face.

He shouldn’t fucking be here. He should’ve done this on his own.

“Frankie,” You call through the window gently when he makes no move.

“Alright, I’m coming,” He grumbles, stepping out of the car, the door slamming shut behind him.

You don’t even ask him what’s wrong. You just take his hand, leading him towards your house. And he goes, who is he to tell you no now that he’s here?

When you get him inside you stop in the foyer at the coat rack. He lets you shed him of his coat and hat, shivers when you run your hands through his hair. You look down pointedly at his shoes and he removes them. After ridding yourself of your own coat and shoes, you pull him by his arm towards your bedroom.

He drags his feet, and shakes his head, “No, I can’t, not again.”

“Can’t or won’t?” You challenge, as you look over your shoulder at him.

Both of you know that this isn’t an issue of him wanting it, but more of him feeling like hasn’t earned it.

“Can’t,” His voice shakes slightly, the word scraping out of his throat.

Your face softens, and you turn around to pull him closer by his face, resting your nose against his, “Can you? For me?”

For you? He’d try just about anything.

“Of course, I can for you,” He mumbles, all of his willpower shedding with each inhalation of your scent, sweet and heady.

His hands find your waist, holding onto them as if they're his lifeline. He won't initiate, he never does. He stands and waits, letting the feeling of your soft skin and your fragrance wash over him. This is where he's safe. This is where he wants to belong so desperately.

You can feel it radiating off of him, his need for something, anything from you. You always happily give to Frankie, it’s what you do when you love someone so deeply, even if they don’t know it yet. Your mouth slants against his, coaxing him open with a patience that makes his knees weak. You’re so patient. So strong. Everything he’s not. Everything he wishes to be. His appreciation for that shines through, a strangled sob stirring in his chest as he kisses you back feverishly. You pull away when you feel the first few stray tears hit your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” He croaks, his lips brushing yours with each word.

“Don’t apologize to me, Francisco,” You scold gently, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips.

He nods, a small sheepish smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. The two of you finally continue the journey to your bedroom. You ignore him when he starts to mumble about getting your sheets wet, but you don’t care. Sheets can be washed or replaced.

His mending heart can’t and it urgently needs attending to.

You fall into the bed first, bringing him with you. His head finds your chest immediately, and he presses his face into the skin of your neck, inhales deep. The two of you lay there, tangled in each other for what feels like hours. It could be seconds, minutes, days even, but neither of you cares. You’re his safe haven, and time doesn’t exist.

He doesn’t know when he starts to cry again, but you hold him tighter, and stroke his hair. You gently rock him, shush him, kiss his forehead. For a moment he feels the guilt start to creep in— he knows you have your own shit to deal with and here you are, cradling him like he’s a fucking baby.

As if you hear his thoughts you look down at him, “I’m here for you always, baby.”

“I know,” He whispers against your throat. “I know. I just wish-“

“You wish for things that’ll happen one day. Be patient.”

“I’m not like you,” He says bitterly.

“I know, it’s what I love about you,” You test out the word for the first time and he grows incredibly still in your arms, staying quiet. Eventually, you have to fill the silence before your mind starts to race. “Frankie, why didn’t you just come in?”

His answer comes quickly, his mind completely made up, “Because I don’t deserve to be here.”

You glare down at him with narrowed eyes, “Do you trust me?”

Undoubtedly. More than almost everyone, save for Pope. Sometimes he can’t even argue that.

“Of course.”

“Do you trust my judgment?”

“Most of the time,” He offers, the hint of a smirk on his face.

“Frankie.”

“Yes, yes, I trust your judgment.”

“Then you deserve to be here. You deserve whatever you want,” You say simply. You’ve said something like this before in so many words, and plan to do so until he can say those words himself.

And for once, Frankie doesn’t have the energy to fight back on your statement. He’s not sure if it’s from the beer or if this is the first time he’s gotten close to believing it. Either way, it feels better than all the times he has a rebuttal so he just closes his eyes, and relaxes further into your arms.

if you’d like to be on my frankie/pedro pascal characters taglist, let me know!

frankie morales taglist: @jazzelsaur @honeybrowne, @hotchs-bitch

#frankie morales x reader #reader x frankie morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales fic #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #arson writes randos

[wildbornsiren]

Kinktober Day 7: Public || Frankie “Catfish” Morales/F!Reader

Public Summary: Welcome home drinks with Frankie.  1326 words Female/AFAB reader in an established relationship Warnings: vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, public sex. Notes: For #kinktober2022. Reminder that these will not have part twos, or continuations. Please follow @wbslibrary​ since tag lists are gone. (I appreciate ya’ll so much but it was stressing me out, and I was worried I’d miss someone). Thanks to @hederasgarden​ for the once over. Comments and sharing let me know you love me, likes are appreciated. Thank you so very much for reading. It’s so appreciated and means the most.

The bartender places a rum and coke in front of you with a smile. She moves down the bar helping other patrons. You take a sip of the drink, enjoying the chatter and classic rock music melding together. A gentle brush of a hand against the small of your back, a man settling on the bar stool next to you.

"Mi amor," he murmurs kissing your cheek. The scrape of his scruff makes you shiver, his body warm and familiar against yours.

"Hi baby." You rest your head against his shoulder breathing deep his scent. Tobacco, beer, sweat, under it all something that was so distinctly Frankie.

The bartender leaves a shot of tequila and a beer in front of him with a wink. "You weren't waiting too long, were you?" His arm drops to circle your waist, fingers brushing under the hem of your shirt.

You shake your head, his touch sending little shocks of electricity through your body. “You’re worth the wait.” “Now you’re stealing my words, as well as my heart, preciosa?”  He guides you off your stool and into his lap. “Someone has to sweet talk you occasionally.” His next kiss lands on your mouth, his hand cupping your cheek, deepening the kiss slowly. Frankie groans softly when you respond. His hand leaves your side, resting on your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles against heated skin. It leaves you breathless, leaning closer to him. “I missed you.” He murmurs softly, another soft kiss to your jaw. “I’m glad you came home to me.” You tap your glass against his shot when he raises it to you. There are jobs he doesn’t talk about—times that he’s gone for weeks, with radio silence and pillows that smelled like him your only company. You’ve met his friends, his brothers, who he served with, slowly being accepted into the fiercely protective family. You also knew that when he left with them, that they would protect each other no matter what, and it was something you had to accept if you were to remain in his life. “Wild horses preciosa, wild horses.” His touch creeps higher, his hand sliding between your legs. “These shorts make your legs look incredible.” His hips move just enough for you to feel that he’s already hard. “Frankie…” Your hand tangles in his hair, tugging him in for another kiss. Teasingly you rock your hips back, feeling his groan rumble in his chest. “Do you want to go home?” “No.” Both arms circle your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips brush the shell of your ear as he describes in exquisite detail exactly how much he missed you. “Car?” “Too far.” Frankie’s kisses sear along the curve of your neck, his scruff tickling you. “Bathroom?” Your eyes flicker toward the hallway. “Now you’re getting it,” he chuckles. “But only if you’re absolutely certain.” Frankie’s hands rest lightly, and he stops the nuzzling and stolen kisses, allowing you to think clearly for the first time since he walked in. You nod, and when his hands return to your hips to grip them lightly you say it out loud. “You first,” he murmurs quietly. Carefully you slide off his lap, covering your drink with a napkin, though you know it’ll be replaced once you return to your place at the bar. You make your way through the crowded space, ducking into the hallway that had neon signs advertising beer as the only illumination. You enter the bathroom, lingering in front of the sinks, studying your reflection in the mirror.  Eyes bright, mouth a little swollen from Frankie’s kisses, but what strikes you is how happy you look. The door opens and closes, and you can hear the click of the lock. Frankie appears in the mirror behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder. You turn in his arms, pulling yourself up to sit on the counter. Gently lifting his ball cap from his unruly curls, you place it on your own head, pulling the brim with a grin. His eyes are hungry as he watches you lift your shirt up, twisting out of it and beckoning him closer with a finger. He parts your knees with his hands, the touch sliding up your thighs, along your stomach, his head lowering to mouth at the swell of your breasts. He’s unhurried in his touch despite being in a dingy bathroom. Nimble fingers undo the button of your shorts, tugging the zipper down, a warm, heavy palm pressing against your panty covered core. “You feel so good sweetheart,” he coos, fingers pushing past the lace to tease along your slit. Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging him up to kiss him needily. He smiles against your mouth, a finger easing into you slowly, giving you a chance to adjust before he adds another—his are thicker and longer than your own and when he curls them just right, you’re nearly levitating off the counter. “She missed me too, so greedy taking me in like this.” He nips at your lower lip, tugging before releasing it. “I think you can take three.” His voice is low and rich, brushing over your skin, setting your nerves alight. Whimpering, you tug on his hair when he bends, pressing a kiss to your thigh. There’s another stretch and absolute fullness when he works a third finger into your aching cunt. The sound of the slow, rhythmic thrusts and how wet he gets you is lewd. “Frankie please…” You can see how hard he is, his cock straining in his jeans, a small damp patch on the well-worn fabric. ¿Estás lista? The question is barely past his lips when you’re reaching for the button of his jeans. He chuckles when you get them undone the sound folding into a low groan. You stroke him through his boxers, loving the way he jerks against your hand, pushing himself into it. “Please, I need…” “I’ve got you,” he says. He licks your slick from his fingers, using his free hand to pull himself free from his boxers. “Closer to the edge, I’ve got you.” You scoot on the counter, lifting your hips to drop your shorts and panties enough to give him complete access to you. His hands grip your hips, your weight supported easily. The kiss that lands on your mouth is once more, sweet and gentle, his tongue sweeping past your lips. His cock thrusts into you, bottoming out, his hips pressed against yours. You grip his shoulders, fingers clutching at the faded t-shirt he wore, legs wrapping around his waist, trying to pull him as close as you physically can. You’ve missed this, missed him, the way his muscles flex and roll, the soft panting against your neck. The way his eyes are half lidded, giving in to the pleasure, but still unable to take his gaze from you. The sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, tobacco and tequila on his breath, his words a careless blend of English and Spanish. You’re not sure of everything he says, but the way he touches and fucks you lets you know how exactly much he missed you. How much he cares. He groans, hips snapping when you tighten around him. “That’s my girl, mi querida.” His voice breaks, pace erratic. You smooth damp curls from his forehead, resting yours against his. He’s overwhelming you, consuming you, stealing your oxygen, literally and figuratively, and when he moans your name, you’re pushed over that edge of spiraling pleasure. His name a whispered prayer, your hand gripping the back of his neck as you cum. He’s not far behind you, his lower lip caught between his teeth to hold back his debauched sounds as he reaches his orgasm. You’re still for a few minutes, just content to be, with him so close to you. His eyes are soft, gentle as they search your face for any sign of discomfort. “Welcome home Frankie.”  

#wbskink #kinktober2022 #frankie morales x female reader #Frankie Morales/reader #Frankie Morales/you #frankie 'catfish' morales #Frankie 'catfish' morales/reader #frankie morales x reader #shelly writes #triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut

[frannyzooey]

omg kelli pretty please a juicy 🍑 drabble for weeknights! the frankie girlies are hungry 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Weeknights Drabble

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, anal

—

He's....a lot.

He's always been a lot, and while you mentioned one night in bed that you were curious about trying something with him that you've never done with anyone before, as the week slipped by, the idea started to make you nervous, but you were also definitely aroused.

Uncomfortably so sometimes, when you thought about it.

Thinking about what you’d have to take, how he’d get you ready for it, how he’d talk you through it?

The kids gone for the night, dinner made and eaten, a couple glasses of wine loosening you up and now all semblance of nerves were gone: every one of them poured out of your throat to blend with the moans he dragged out of you with his deft fingers and skillful, eager mouth.

So aching that you're rolling your hips restlessly on the bed, so wet that it's sticky and slick between your thighs and down the curve of your ass, and he's still going. Tapping the thick, weighted tip of his cock against your clit in a tease, pushing inside you just enough to give you a feel for the delicious stretch before he's pulling out.

Your voice hoarse from begging, his eyes are black as he watches you palm your breasts with a needy squeeze and before he can stop himself, he's guiding his cock inside you with a deliberate, filling drag. His big hands wrap around the back of your knees, pushing them into your chest and he scoots closer, fitting in down to the base before his hips start to work with steady, forceful strokes.

Your eyes clench tight in overwhelming relief, and you place your hands over the tops of his while you roll your hips up. "Fuck. You're -- it's so much, Frankie. It's so much."

"Yea?" he replies, breathless and wrecked, every stroke forward paired with a soft grunt. His eyes flit darkly between your pretty face and your stretched cunt, his glistening cock smeared with your slick as it disappears into your tight heat over and over.

"Too much?" he checks in with you, and when you frantically shake your head, his hands tighten in their grip and he pushes his weight into the hold, pressing you deep into the mattress.

He goes faster, harder, his broad shoulders blocking out the ceiling light as he pounds down into you and when you lock up underneath him and come around his cock with a silent cry, he waits until you've ridden the waves of your intense release before he slips out.

His cock already soaked earlier, he's drenched now and perfect, for what he has in mind.

Keeping an eye on your face, he guides the tip of his cock lower; a pearlescent string of release smearing from one hole to the other. His hold tightens on your leg, in silent reassurance.

"You ready, baby?"

His wrecked voice betrays his need and still in a fucked out daze, you give him a breathless smile and nod.

He goes slow. Slow. Both to keep an eye on your reaction, but also to savor the tightness of your ass.

Squeezing him so fucking tight he’s lightheaded, black creeps around the edges of his vision while your back arches in encouragement. You let out a hiss when the thick tip of him is fully inside and he stops, but you shake your head, tipping it back into the pillow.

"Keep going. Fuck, keep going. It feels good."

He presses in a little deeper, your throat stretched taut as you let out a cry and halfway in, he gives you a couple little test thrusts.

In, and out. In, and out.

His groan forces your eyes open, and the sight in front of you has you reaching down to swirl your fingers over your clit.

Loose, sweat damp curls. The tanned expanse of his chest. The broadness of his shoulders, and his lush, parted mouth, the veins in his neck that stick out when he's straining above you and the idea that he wants to take it so bad but he's holding back just for you makes you clench. Woefully empty, you work your fingers faster and beg him for more.

He gives it to you, another low, deep groan when he's seated all the way inside and the both of you freeze for a moment, getting used to the new sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, a frown of pleasure deep between his brows. "Fuck. You feel so fucking good, I can't --"

His belly gives a little hitch, and you brush your fingers along the trail of hair that leads to his cock just to feel it. So full you feel like bursting, both with his cock and with love and squirming underneath him, you bring him back to the present.

"I gotta fuck you,” he groans. “I'm gonna cum so deep in this ass, I --" his voice breaks as he eases out to slide back in and your fingers are lace with his in their grip behind your knee while your other hand works your clit.

The stimulation makes your ass tighten around him and he unconsciously chases the slick fist, rolling his hips faster, and faster, until he's fucking your ass.

Unable to do anything but take it because he’s unable to stop, his hand knocks yours aside to work your clit with his own thumb and the way you plead for him to keep going makes him harder, working towards his release.

It’s just for him: your ass and your love and this open, vulnerable version of you and all it swirls together in a heady mix until he grips you with a white knuckled hold and comes; loud twin groans of sated relief when you hit your peak at the same time.

Deep, heavy breathes above you, he waits a beat and then tenderly pulls out, his spend leaking from you when he helps ease your legs down to rest against the bed. Rubbing the tops of your thighs in a soothing stroke, his hands curl over the tops of them and the look on his face has turned from filthy to instantly boyish, a dimple piercing his cheek deep.

"Holy shit," he smiles, and the breathless wonder in the words makes you smile as well, a giggle bubbling out.

"You okay?" he asks, making a space for himself between your legs as he drapes his body over yours and delicately brushing the damp curls that cling to his forehead away from his face, you tilt your chin up in a wordless request for a kiss.

He grants it to you, deepening it just for the sake of being close, and then he's pulling back, since you didn't answer his question. His eyebrows raise, waiting.

"Yea," you reply, your words softly rounded. "More than."

You wiggle your eyebrows, winding your legs around his hips to keep him in place and squeezing you tight, he grins, fitting his face into the crook of your neck with a content inhale.

#weeknights drabble #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 34**

Again, sorry about chapter 33, I know if was a hard one! But as someone said, it bonded us and brought us together! And I cannot tell you how good it felt to finally post it and be able to talk about it even though I was really nervous people would be genuinely offended. But it's all good! No got angry (yet anyway...).

So we're past the worst of it and Frankie and his girl are about to leave the QZ so please enjoy their journey that led to me using Google Maps an extraordinary amount!

Series Master List

Chapter 35- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 8.8k

Getting out of Boston is scary, Frankie drives and dodges around the runners that are attracted to the noise of the car. You regret your decision to leave every minute of the drive but Frankie hasn’t met a vehicle he can’t safely push to its limits. When you dare to open your eyes again you’re speeding down an empty highway, the Boston suburbs disappearing behind you.

“That was fucking intense,” he huffs, glancing in the rear view mirror at the fading city skyline. “Let’s not do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie, but I really haven’t thought about where we should go,” you say, looking over at him as he drives, “I had no plan apart from getting you away from the QZ.”

“It’s ok, cariño, we’ll figure it out,” he slides his hand over to your leg, squeezing it lightly, “I’ll just get us as far as possible today, out into the countryside, and then we’ll see where we wanna go.”

“How far do you think we’ll get in this car?” you ask, looking over the small sedan. It wasn’t the sturdiest car even when it was new, and it wasn’t new when the outbreak happened.

“As long as we find petrol and it doesn’t blow a tyre, it should be fine. I hope,” Frankie gives the dash a gentle pat as if willing the car to hold itself together.

You fall silent for a few minutes, looking out through the window and the passing trees. You’ve passed Worcester and the landscape is changing. You’d forgotten how green it could be, the QZ was devoid of almost all plant life, all trees taken down for firewood, any park dug up for crops. But out here, on a bright May day, everything is so green it almost hurts. In the past ten years nature has taken over and when you drive through a forest it’s like being inside a tunnel of green, tall grass and thick bushes caging in the road and slowly creeping over it. In a few more years even the asphalt will be broken up by roots and plants, you can already see it in places.

The miles pass and you see less and less civilization and no sign of infected. Frankie makes sure to drive around any towns or cities, staying well away from any places that used to be populated. You leave Massachusetts and keep making your way west, after a few hours you reach Pennsylvania and one of the big state forests. The green hillsides remind you of Denny’s cabin, of the drive up there. You haven’t thought about it in years but now it seems like a haven.

“Could we go back to Denny’s cabin?” you ask, looking over at Frankie again, “Maybe it’s still untouched.”

“After all these years, I doubt it,” he says, shaking his head, “I did lock it when we left but someone’s bound to have found it, raiders or looters. And even before it would’ve been a two day drive, now, who knows how long it would take?”

“But we need somewhere really remote, maybe up towards the Canadian border?”

“Yeah, but past the Great Lakes first, too many people on this side,” Frankie says, “And not too far north, the winters are too harsh.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and you hear him inhale a couple of times, you know he’s getting ready to say something so you wait while watching his profile, his eyebrows knit together and he tightens his jaw.

“I gave the last pills to Joel,” he says, finally, “And the key to the apartment, to give to Will.” He glances over to you, “But I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me about the pills, I know I’ve lied a lot lately.”

“Frankie…” you begin and he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to say anything, I’m just going to prove it to you, prove that you can trust me again,” he nods, more to himself than to you, “I’ll prove it to you, but,” he takes his eyes of the road again and looks at you, his eyebrows bunched up with nerves, “…the thing is, I’m already getting shaky, and I don’t know what shape I’ll be in once the withdrawals really kick in. I might need you to drive soon.”

“Of course, Frankie, whatever you need,” you put your hand on his leg and you can feel him trembling, “Pull over as soon as you find a good spot and I’ll take over.”

He nods and takes a deep breath, breathing out through his nose, “I don’t know how bad it’ll get, you remember last time, right?”

“I remember you being sick as a dog for a day, you couldn’t keep any food or water down,” you move your hand to his forehead, he’s starting to look pale and his skin is cold to the touch, “Frankie, we should find a safe spot as soon as possible so that you can relax while it works it’s way out of your system.”

He nods and you pull out the road map that you’d found in the car, scanning the land ahead of you. You guide him and he turns on to increasingly smaller roads, finally arriving at a dead end with a small cabin tucked away deep into the forest. He stops the car and you sit quietly in the yard in front for a while, listening to the sounds of birds and nothing else. Eventually he turns the car around, parking it for an easy get away and you both get out and make sure both the cabin and the area is clear. It reminds you of the early days of the outbreak, when it was just you and him and you fall into the routine of you covering his back while he goes in first.

The cabin looks untouched, the door still locked and you easily find the key hidden under some rocks near the door. The rocks are covered in moss and you have to clean the key before it slides into the lock, but it fits, and the door swings open on creaking hinges. The inside is empty and dusty, just one big room. It looks like an old hunting lodge that’s been emptied out long before the outbreak. The only remaining feature is a big fireplace on the back wall.

“Safe and dry,” Frankie says, closing the door behind you. The shutters are closed and you switch on your flashlight.

“We’ll be alright here for a few days I think, although you might not be too comfortable,” you sweep the light across the room, there’s nothing, not even firewood in the cabin.

“I’ve slept in much worse, trust me, cariño,” he gives you a weak smile, he’s pulling out the camping light and cranking it. It’s not bright but spreads enough light to illuminate the room. As you put your flashlight away Frankie puts his backpack down by the wall, when he stands up again he suddenly wobbles and puts his hand out to steady himself.

“Frankie,” you say, rushing over and wrapping your arm around his waist to hold him up, “are you alright?”

He nods but lets you lower him gently to the floor, “I just got dizzy, it’s starting…” he breathes deeply and even in the dim light you can see his pale complexion under a sheen of sweat.

“How do you feel about food? I think you should eat something before it gets worse,” you kneel down next to him and pull out the camping stove and a can.

“Just give me some of those dry crackers you made and some water,” he says, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.

…

The night is bad for Frankie, his body shivers and you drape his sleeping bag over him but then sweat pours off him and his anxiety spikes. He’s got his head in your lap and you rake your fingers through his damp curls, soothing him in what little way you can as the opioids work their way out of his system. You refuse to let him keep watch, insisting that he gets what sleep he can, you sleep sitting up, a simple noise trap set up in front of the locked door. By morning Frankie is curled into a tight ball on the floor, sweating through his t-shirt and whimpering in his sleep. He’s thrown up during the night and you’ve forced him to drink water but now he’s fairly peaceful so you let him sleep for as long as his body will let him.

You only meant to stay overnight in the cabin but you end up bunkering down for three days. Frankie curses every decision he’s ever made that’s led him to lie shivering on the floor while he tries to at least keep liquids down. The forest around the cabin is quiet and you venture out in search of more water, leaving Frankie sleeping. When you come back a few minutes later he’s awake and anxious, irritated at you for leaving without him.

“You can’t go out on your own!” he snaps as you close the door behind you, wrinkling your nose at the stale air inside the cabin after three days. “What if something happens to you and I don’t hear anything?!” You put down the water container and he grabs your arms, pulling you close, “You’ve got to be more careful!”

“Frankie, honey….” you soothe him, “I was gone for a minute, there’s a stream just behind the cabin, “this is just your withdrawals messing with your brain.”

“You know I worry about you, you can’t just fucking disappear on me,” he growls, his temper getting the better of him as you try to calm him. The aggression has been simmering under the surface for the past twenty-four hours and you know he’s ready to peel his own skin off from sheer frustration. You carefully inhale a deep breath, letting him hold on to your arms as his jaw snaps shut around whatever angry words he wanted to spit out. This is not your Frankie, you have to keep reminding yourself, and you put your hands on his waist, his fingers still digging into your arms. Finding the small gap between his pants and shirt, you rub your thumbs over the soft skin, letting the warmth of your hands seep into him while you watch emotions work their way across his face; from anger to frustration to guilt and grief. When he lets go of your arms and wraps himself around you, pulling you tight, you know he’s snapped out of it for now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m such a fucking mess right now.”

“I know, Frankie, but you’ll get past it, the worst is almost over,” you caress his messy curls, cupping the back of his head with your hand to keep him close. “I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere, just stay with me and I’ll take care of you, ok?”

He nods while you gently take his hand and pull him down onto the floor again. He sits against the wall, his fingers twitching as he tips his head back against the rough timber, closing his eyes.

“I’m actually a little bit hungry, maybe the worst is over.”

“That’s great, do you want something to eat? See if you can keep it down now?”

“Yeah, give me one of those crackers to start with,” he opens his eyes again and accepts the dry piece of thin bread from your backpack.

You watch him eat it and then a small helping of canned baked beans that you heat up on the camping stove. He’s still shaky and nauseous, but it stays down and he starts to feel better. You eat your own food and sit down next to him, pulling him into you with your arm over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, turning his head so that he can press a kiss to your cheek, “for putting up with me. Just for once I’d like to have a life where I don’t feel like I’m always trying to make up to you for my mistakes.”

“You know I’ll always think you’re worth it, Frankie,” you smile, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He hums contentedly and sighs and you sit in silence for a while. His breathing is calmer than it has been in days, he’s not trembling anymore and he’s starting to feel warm again, like himself.

“I’m sorry I forced you to leave Will and Benny behind,” you say eventually, “but I couldn’t let them know, I didn’t want them to risk anything, this is just you and me.”

“I know,” he sighs, sitting up so that he can look at you properly, “I know you did what you had to do to get me away from it and I’m grateful. You sacrifice so much for me, cariño.”

“And Santi…” you begin to say but tears well up and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from falling apart. You see Frankie’s eyes fill up with tears too and he pulls you into his chest.

“It’s not your fault, Frankie,” you whisper between quiet sobs, “I know I said it but I know it wasn’t your fault, you got betrayed by someone.”

Frankie shakes his head, “I fucked up, I feel asleep, it would’ve been different,” he tightens his hold on you and you feel him tense up, “he was so disappointed in me for still using, he told me he was going to tell you when we got back and then kick my ass.”

“You talked to him before he got caught?” you ask, pulling back a little and wiping the back of your hand over your eyes, “you didn’t tell me about that.”

“Yeah, right before, I told him what had happened and he said we’d been betrayed, that it wasn't’ my fault, but…I-I don’t know…” Frankie sighs and you reach up and wipe away another tear from his cheek, “He wasn’t mad at me, just disappointed and told me I had to get over it, get clean, I’m just such a fucking mess, a disappointment to you all.”

“You’re doing it now, Frankie,” you say, letting the back of your hand caress his cheek, “you’re past the worst of the withdrawals and now you stay clean for Santi. And I’ll help you, all the way.”

Frankie sighs and gives you a weak smile, “He told me he wasn’t sure I could survive without you anymore, and he’s right, what the fuck would I do without you?”

“What the fuck would I do without you, Frankie?” you say, pressing your lips to the bare patch on his scruffy cheek, “And I don’t mean all the times you’ve actually saved my life. But how would I survive in this world if you didn’t love me? You’re the only reason I actually want to stay alive.”

“I don’t know how long I can keep us safe out here though,” Frankie says with a deep sigh, looking towards the door of the cabin as if he can see all the monsters, infected or not, waiting for you. “We’ll be in danger whenever we leave and even in a place like this, there’s always a risk of someone showing up.” He looks back at you, his eyebrows knitted and serious, “I don’t want to scare you, but there’s only us now and our odds aren’t good.”

“I don’t care, Frankie,” you let him wrap his arms around you so that he can tuck you in under his chin, “I just want my old Frankie back, without the drugs, and I’d rather have just a little time with you like that out here, then watch you succumb to your nightmares and addictions in the QZ.”

“Maybe I should’ve just left on my own…” he mumbles, “putting your through this isn’t fair.”

“Pfft…as if I’d let you,” you snort, “I would’ve come after you.”

“I know, and you coming after me then would’ve been much scarier than any infected or raider,” you can hear the smile in his voice and you give him a soft dig in between his ribs and he chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head while he runs his hand over your arm for a few minutes while you sit quietly.

“I never could’ve left you though, I’m too selfish,” Frankie says after a little while, “I need you, even when I’m my shittiest, lowest self. I never could’ve left you, even if you’d begged me to, Pope was right when he said I can’t survive without you.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone, I miss him,” you say, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

“Me too,” Frankie mumbles, “me too.”

…

On the morning of the fourth day Frankie feels stable enough to continue westward. The cabin you’re in is decent but still too close to civilization, so you refill your water canisters and load up the little car. You’re going to need to find gas soon though and when you hit the highway again Frankie sorts a siphon and fills up the tank. It’s slow going, stopping and getting more gas every hour but you make your way west, giving Chicago a wide berth. As soon as you start getting closer to towns or cities, you see infected. There are hordes of them, roaming around what used to be populated areas.

“Any town or city is off limits,” Frankie says as you watch yet another group of infected in the distance, “We’ll have to resupply by hunting or looting farmsteads. One or two infected we can handle, any more than that and we’re pushing our luck.”

You nod and agree, luckily you only see infected near towns or cities, you haven’t seen any in the farms you’ve explored. It seems people either left during the outbreak or the infected somehow naturally gravitate towards each other. In the years since the outbreak some attempts have been made to understand how the infection works and how it makes the infected behave. But apart from them seeming to group into larger hordes and moving with the seasons, no one really understands much about them.

You get past Illinois and enter Iowa, avoiding Des Moines and following the pin straight highway twenty through endless fields.

“Haven’t they heard of curves in this state?” you grumble as you stare at the road that stretches towards the flat horizon, “these roads are literally designed for people to fall asleep while driving.”

“You’ve never traveled by car across the Midwest before the outbreak?” Frankie asks, he looks relaxed, the road is almost empty, just a few cars along the sides, and he’s got his elbow out through the open window, the wind ruffling his curls under yet another trusty cap he picked up somewhere, this one says ‘Pennsylvania University’.

“No, I always flew when I went home from college and the only road trip I did was from Seattle to Portland.”

“I’ve driven coast to coast, the Midwest is the worst for straight roads,” Frankie says, waving his hand out the window, “we just need to get through Iowa and then Nebraska, then we’ll start seeing some mountains.”

“Is Nebraska where you wanna head?” you ask, following the highway on the map.

“Maybe, it gets pretty remote once you start getting in among the reservations, they were never very populated, but lots of open land. But I was thinking maybe Colorado too, but away from Aspen and Denver, somewhere remote up in the mountains but not so far up that the winters get too harsh.”

“Maybe down in the foothills of the Rockies?” you say, looking at the states that creep up to the big mountain range cutting you off from the coast, “Colorado, Wyoming, Montana?”

“Pick a state, cariño, and pick a farm,” he chuckles, “We’ve got a lot of land to choose from.”

…

At night you try to find shelter somewhere away from the road, out of sight. If you’re lucky you find an empty cabin or house, if not you try to hide in a forest, or at least a patch of trees. You sleep in watches, never trusting any place enough to both sleep at the same time. Frankie always makes you sleep first, and once he’s tired enough, in the middle of the night, he wakes you up and then he falls asleep easier and has less nightmares. They still plague him though, and there are new elements to them, he mumbles Pope’s name and you try to calm him before he gets to the point you know he revisits every night.

You still see him too, up on the scaffold every night in your dreams. Sometimes you can run towards it, other times you’re glued to the spot, unable to move, but the outcome is always the same; the trap door opens and he drops before you can get to him. Some nights are worse than others, then all four of them are up there, Frankie next to Pope, with Will and Benny there too. Those nights you wake up screaming as the trap door opens, and Frankie scrambles to pull you into his arms, to calm you down.

“You’re getting good at this,” you mumble, pressed into his soft flannel shirt as your breathing slows down. His hands are rubbing up and down your arms and back, grounding you under his touch.

“I have a lot of practice,” he whispers before he kisses the top of your ear, his warm lips tickling you and making your heart slow down a little bit more, “how many times haven’t you had to do this for me over the years?”

You hum into his chest, drifting off to sleep again even though it’s almost dawn, the dark night sky has a slight tinge at the eastern horizon as Frankie glances around the clearing you’re camped in tonight.

Suddenly he hears a high pitched cry, weak and in the distance, but distinct. You hear it too, even though you’re already half asleep, and you stir, sitting up.

“What was that?” you ask, turning towards the sound. As you listen you hear it again and this time you recognize it.

“It’s a baby,” you whisper, looking up at Frankie who’s straining his eyes to see through the darkness. It’s coming from across the road you’d been on before you took shelter in this copse, hidden from sight now by the trees.

“Yeah, an infant,” Frankie whispers back, getting up from the ground and continuing to look towards the sound.

“What do we do?” you look around the car, trying to hear or see anything else around your simple campsite.

“I’d like to say we leave, get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible,” Frankie says, looking down at you, “But I don’t think I can…”

“Me either,” you nod, “who the fuck are we if we leave a baby crying?”

Frankie gives a little shake of his head and you see him square up his shoulders as he looks towards the shrill, faint sound, “C’mon, we go quietly, we leave the car here, but grab your pack.”

You quickly pack up your things and pull out your gun, all traces of sleep are gone now as you follow behind Frankie. He leads the way across the highway and into the sparse forest on the other side. The baby goes silent sometimes but always starts crying again and suddenly Frankie puts his fist up, signaling you to stop. Through the forest you hear the soft sound of a woman shushing the child. Frankie motions for you to crouch down and slowly you move forward together, making as little noise as possible. The breeze masks your footsteps and as you step around a large oak tree you see the source of the sound; leaning against a boulder is a woman, a few years younger than yourself, with a baby cradled in her arms. Even in the faint light you can see her ghostly pale skin and gaunt look, her chest rising in short rapid breaths, like she’s gasping for air and something tells you she’s dying, her body is slumped over, like she doesn’t have any strength left. Frankie scans the area around her for a few seconds before he speaks.

“Don’t scream, we’re not going to hurt you,” he says, half visible behind the tree. The woman startles but doesn’t cry out, she just holds the child closer to her chest.

“We heard the baby crying, do you need help?”, you ask, still half hiding behind Frankie. He’s lowered his gun but you can tell he’s still on full alert. The woman is painfully emaciated and scared looking but she seems to relax a little when she sees you.

“Are you hurt?” Frankie asks, he can see that her ragged shirt is dark with what looks like blood, and she nods, her face suddenly crumples as she begins to cry.

“Please,” she begs, tears streaming down her face, “take him, get him away from them.” She struggles to lift the baby, he begins to wail again and she almost drops him as her arms give out.

“Keep watch,” Frankie says to you in a low voice, “I’m going to check on her.” He puts away his gun and puts his hands up.

“I’m going to come over, I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t hurt me, ok?”

The woman nods, sobbing, and Frankie closes the short distance, crouching down next to her. You keep your gun raised, your eyes flitting between Frankie and the woman and the trees around you. The sky is rapidly getting lighter but the surrounding forest is quiet, whoever ‘them’ are, you can’t hear anything.

The woman’s eyes are big and fearful as Frankie crouches down but he smiles at her, you see his warm eyes give her that comforting look you’ve seen so many times, and she relaxes, trusting him instinctively.

“You’re hurt?” he asks in a soft voice and she nods, looking down at her abdomen.

“It’s bad, I’ve lost a lot of blood, I-I’m dying,” she whispers and as Frankie gently lifts her shirt you hear him inhale, her shirt is soaked with blood and there is a nasty looking gash deep into her side. She’s been holding her hand over it but as Frankie makes her move it out of the way you realize there’s no way you can help her. She needs a hospital, and even that might not be enough.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie says in a low voice, looking up at the woman’s pale face, “I can’t do anything, we only have a simple first aid kit. Who did this to you?”

The woman just shakes her head and tries to lift the baby again, “Take him, please, they’re hunting me, get him away from here.”

You scan the forest again, your finger on the trigger, straining your ears to hear anything above the chirping of the early morning birds that have started to sing.

“Who are they?” Frankie asks, gently dropping the woman’s shirt over her wound again.

“Slavers,” the woman shudders, “I escaped three days ago, I-I don’t have time, please,” she looks down at the baby in her arms and then back at Frankie, “Please, you’ve got to take him. His name is Jack, after my brother. He was heading to Wyoming with a group of people, please find him.”

Frankie looks over at you and you see the question in his eyes, should you take this baby? But the option is to leave him to die with his mother, or be found by the slavers, and then what? You nod to Frankie and look at the woman, “We’ll take him, but we might not find your brother, Wyoming is a big place.”

“Just get him away from here, please,” the woman’s voice breaks, she’s bending her head down over her son, gently tucking in the blanket that’s swaddled around him. She looks up at Frankie again, he’s still crouched next to her.

“Take him and…and k-kill me…” she pleads, “Don’t let them find me alive, they’ll hurt me.”

“How many are coming after you?” Frankie asks, holstering his gun and taking the infant boy from the woman.

“Ten, maybe fifteen,” she says, looking at her son, now safely tucked into the crook of Frankie’s arm. “There were twenty-two in the gang, I killed one as I escaped.”

“Too many for us to fight,” he replies, looking back at you. Much as you know he would like to help, he won’t risk your life or his own for this.

“Come here,” he says to you, motioning over, “take the baby.”

“Jack, his name is Jack Connolly, he-,” the woman says, her voice breaking into a moan as she grabs her side, “he’s six months old, his birthday is January twenty-third,” she looks at you as you carefully take Jack from Frankie, “Please take care of him,” she whispers, “tell him I love him.”

“I will, I promise,” you say, “We’ll keep him as safe as we can. Do you kno-”

Your head snaps up as you suddenly hear someone shout in the distance, Frankie is on his feet in a flash, gun raised.

“We need to go,” he says, “back to the car, quick.”

“Please,” the woman urgently whispers, “don’t leave me alive, you have to kill me,” she sobs, glancing over her shoulder towards where the shout came from. Frankie looks at her and then back at you before he kneels down by her again.

“Do you know where in Wyoming?” he asks, gently putting his hand on her shoulder. “And what is your name? So that we can tell your son when he grows up.” You turn away from the woman as you see Frankie reach for the hunting knife behind his back.

“Julia,” the woman says, her voice breaking around another painful moan, “They were heading for Wind River.”

“We’ll find him, we’ll bring Jack to him,” Frankie says and then you hear the breath knocked out of the woman in a gentle gasp. You can’t help but glance back, shielding the boy in your arms. Frankie’s hand is covering her mouth and his hunting knife is in her chest, angled just into her heart. As you watch, her wide eyes, locked on Frankie, go still and lifeless. He gently sweeps his hand over her eyelids, closing them as he pulls out his knife.

“C’mon, we need to move,” he says quietly, getting back to his feet, sheeting the knife and pulling out his gun again. A man with a gruff voice shouts again, closer this time, and as you spin around, Frankie grabs your arm and pulls you behind the large oak tree. He gives it a few seconds and then moves you forward with his hand still around your wrist.

“Back to the car, quietly,” he whispers, “if the baby cries, cover his mouth as much as you can.”

You only make it a short distance before you hear voices behind you again and Frankie pulls you both down behind some low shrubs, not enough to hide you if someone comes too close.

“I found her!” someone shouts from between the trees, “but the bitch is fucking dead!”

“And the baby?” another voice calls, you can hear the undergrowth crunching as someone hurries towards the woman’s body.

“I can’t see it,” the first voice says.

Frankie tugs on your wrist and you move through the forest, crouched low, back towards the road. You glance down at the baby, you’re trying to hold him steady in your left arm, holding your gun in your right. He looks back up at you with large blue eyes, mercifully silent for now.

You reach the road, there’s a strip of long grass between the edge of the forest and the asphalt and Frankie stops, sinking to his belly.

“Stay here,” he whispers, “I’m going to check if the coast is clear.”

You nod and he slowly crawls forward through the grass, lifting his head and glancing down the road. He can see a pick up truck further down the road but no people. Glancing behind him he waves you forward and he watches you begin to sneak forward through the grass but suddenly you freeze, looking at the other side of the road, and he turns. He curses under his breath when he sees two men appear from the trees and stop, looking up and down the road. Frankie hears you slowly back up, into the tree line again, out of sight. He risks a quick look over his shoulder, you’re concealed behind the trees again and he carefully crawls backwards through the grass.

“No sign of anyone, that car could’ve been there for years,” one of the men says, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder.

“I’m telling you, I came through here with Lowell a week ago and it wasn’t there then,” the second man replies.

“Yeah, but that was a week ago, whoever left it is long gone by now.”

“And maybe they’re not, I’m just saying it’s weird that the car is there just as that bitch cut Jake and ran.”

“So what? She’s dead now, and who cares about the kid? She’s been fucked by everyone of us, we ain’t gonna know who’s it is anyway.”

“Yeah, she’s dead and we’re down one worker, so we might as well try and grab whoever drove that car as compensation.”

You’ve heard more than enough, bile is rising in your throat as Frankie finally reaches you again and crouches next to you. He puts his mouth next to your ear and whispers. “Follow the treeline, stay out of sight, we’ll take their truck if we can get to it.”

You nod and he holds onto your wrist as he slowly moves through the forest, out of sight. There’s no one by the truck and Frankie quietly opens the driver's side door and feels around for the keys.

“Bingo,” he whispers as he grabs them, still hanging from the ignition, “Get in from this side, keep the baby quiet.”

You do as he says and slide down between the seat and the dash when he points you to it.

“Hold on tight, once I start it up they’ll be all over us, keep your head down,” he whispers, glancing around the truck. There’s an old hunting rifle in the back, not well maintained but when he picks it up and checks, he sees that it’s loaded.

He hands it over to you, “If I say so, leave the baby on the floor and shoot at anyone who’s coming after us, ok? They probably have at least one more car and they might have time to get to it once I start this.”

You nod and Frankie reaches for the keys, holding his breath, he turns it and the truck rumbles to life. He quickly throws it in drive and accelerates, through the open window you can hear shouts go up.

“Someone’s stealing the pickup! Get after ‘em! Quick!”

“Joey! Get the other fucking car!”

“Shoot the tyres, shoot for fucks’s sake!”

Gunshots ring out but Frankie is already swerving, zigzagging the truck down the road. A few bullets ping off the metal and Frankie glances behind him.

“Cariño, I’m gonna need you to take their car out, they’re coming after us,” he calls over the sound of the guns.

His eyes flit between you and the road as you climb up onto the seat and crouch down by the open back window. The rifle is heavier than what you’re used to but you manage to shoulder it and aim down the barrel.

“Yank back on the lever on the side to reload,” Frankie calls to you and you almost roll your eyes at him as you pull back on the bolt action. You can hear Benny’s voice in your head as you go through the motions and hold the rifle as steady as you can while the truck lurches, ‘Push it up first, then you slide it back, the bullet pops out and then you reverse it, easy!’

Your first shot goes wide, the sights on the gun wonky and old. You can feel Frankie glance at you in the rear view mirror as you reload. The second shot hits the side view mirror of the other truck, you wish you’d been aiming at it but it was pure luck. But it does have the benefit of making the driver jolt and swerve and one of the men in the back of the truck topples over and disappears from view.

A bullet slams into the back of the truck, making you jerk your head back, for a second you think you’ve been hit but nothing hurts and you take a deep breath, aiming out through the window again.

Your third bullet hits the grill, you’re getting the hang of the aim of the rifle.

“Keep the truck steady for a few seconds,” you yell back to Frankie, “I need to hit a tyre!”

He does as you say and you take careful aim as the other pickup gets closer. You squeeze the trigger gently but a bump in the road jolts your aim and the shot rings out, going wide and you curse loudly, quickly sliding back the bolt.

But Frankie whoops, “Fucking awesome shot, cariño!” and you look back at the truck, the driver is slumped over, the broken windshield splattered in blood. Behind it you see the other man try to take control of the wheel.

“Take him out!” Frankie yells, “You’ve got him!”

You aim at the tire again and this time your aim is on point, the tire blows up and the man loses control of the vehicle as it spins out of control. It careens into the ditch and Frankie floors the accelerator, putting distance between you and the slavers. You slump down in the passenger seat, letting out a long breath as Frankie gives your leg a quick squeeze.

“Best fucking shot I’ve ever seen, cariño, you’re fucking amazing!”

You give him a weak grin, and pick baby Jack up from the floor, cradling the little bundle into your arms. It suddenly hits you, now you’re responsible for this little one and the promise you made to his mother. You’re heading for Wyoming now and it feels like faith made a decision for you.

…

The truck has almost a full tank of gas and for that you’re grateful. Frankie doesn’t stop driving for hours, turning off the interstate and getting lost on smaller roads, skirting towns and villages, until you’re forced to stop and refuel.

Jack, the little baby boy, cries and sleeps throughout the day until you figure out that he can eat the spaghettios from a can and seems to like it.

“Thank god he eats solid food,” you say, carefully spooning another small bite into the boy’s mouth, “And thank god you’re a baby encyclopedia, Frankie.”

“Never thought I’d use all that knowledge again,” Frankie says, glancing down at baby Jack on your lap. “But you know this complicates things, we need to figure out how to feed him and keep him clean. We’re gonna have to wash those diapers pretty much every day.”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought, there’s already a dirty one wrapped up in the back, “Ok, that’s gonna be your job,” you say and Frankie chuckles.

“I already sacrificed a t-shirt for him, you can do the diaper washing.”

You look down at the little boy on your lap, he’s got your finger in a steady grip and as you watch him he yawns twice and closes his eyes. Soon he’s sleeping again and you cross both your legs, letting him rest in your lap with one of Frankie’s hoodies draped over him.

“How far is Wind River?” Frankie asks and you pull out the map again.

“It’s marked on the map as Wind River Reservation,” you say, tracing the outline of the reservation with your finger, “It looks like about five hundred miles away, so a day’s drive if we’re lucky. But then we have to find this group of people.” You sigh and look at the map of Wyoming, it’s a very big state, even Wind River looks huge.

“I don’t think we’ll find them,” Frankie says, “I say we stick to the original plan of getting to the foothills and finding somewhere safe to live. And even though it’s only June, we need to settle soon so that we can prepare for winter.” He looks over at you and down at the boy, “It’s not going to be easy, even for the two of us. With him…cariño, it’s going to be hard…he might not…” Frankie trails off and you nod, you know keeping a baby alive in this world is hard enough. Out here, on your own, it might prove impossible.

“We’ll figure it out, Frankie, somehow, we’ll be there in two or three days, and find somewhere to settle.”

…

‘Famous last words’, you think the next afternoon as you stand next to the car. The good news is that you’re well away from Nebraska and any pursuing slavers. The bad news is that you’re still a good fifty miles away from White River and even further from the foothills of the Rockies. And you’re out of gas. There hasn’t been a car in sight for two hours and the last one you saw had only water in the tank. The pickup spluttered to a halt after running on fumes for a good half an hour.

Frankie is going through the supplies the slavers had left in the truck, replacing some of the stuff in your packs before he shoulders the larger pack. Little baby Jack has been wrapped against your chest with a makeshift kangaroo pouch made from Frankie’s one clean hoodie. You carry the lighter pack on your back.

“That’s it,” Frankie says, “we’ll have to leave the rest but it’s mainly junk or too heavy.” He comes over to you after tossing the car keys on to the driver’s seat. “You ok, cariño?” His voice is soft as he looks down at you and the baby sleeping tucked against your chest, “It’s going to be a long walk but I know you can handle that, just let me know if he gets too heavy for you.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ve got the heavier pack anyway, Frankie,” you smile at him, trying to sound more alright than you actually are. The car represented some sort of safety out here, a way of running from danger. Now you feel exposed. You look around the empty prairie, nothing but grass until the hills appear on the horizon.

“I found you this in the truck,” Frankie holds out a weather worn John Deere ball cap, it’s grimy and sweat stained, “I’ll wash it when we pass some water but you’ll need it for the sun today.”

“Thanks, Frankie,” you say and stuff it in your back pocket for now and he takes your hand and starts walking, heading west along the highway, leaving the pickup behind.

…

Settlements are few and far behind in this part of Wyoming and it feels like you walk for hours without getting anywhere. The road looks the same, the landscape looks the same, just one big open sky above you and the sun beating down mercilessly. The only sign of time and distance passing is the sun slowly creeping down towards the mountains in the west. When it finally disappears it’s a relief, the evening air cooling your hot skin.

“There’s a river coming up in about two miles,” Frankie says, looking at the map and comparing it to a rusted road sign. “We should camp there for the night, get some fresh water and see if we can catch some fish.”

You nod, you feel dead on your feet and Frankie takes your hand, “Almost there cariño, then we can rest,” he says and gives you a kiss, “C’mon, not much further.”

You walk along the river for half a mile before you find a good sheltered spot. The night’s are still warm so there’s no need for a fire but Frankie pitches the small tent he got from the pickup. It gives baby Jack shelter from the wind while you change his diaper and feed him some of the spaghettios. Frankie comes back from the river with wet pants but a proud smile and a large trout hanging by the gills from his hand.

“Earned my nickname,” he grins, showing off his catch, “Jack might not be able to eat it but we’ll get a good meal tonight and tomorrow.

Sheltered behind a few rocks, Frankie risks a small fire, and quickly grills the trout, deboning it and serving you a large portion with a flourish that makes you laugh.

“Such a master chef, Frankie, this is the best fish I’ve had in years” you smile as he sits down next to you after kicking dirt over the fire to extinguish it.

“Not sure about ‘master chef’,” he chuckles, “hunger and fresh air probably has more to do with that taste.”

“Either way, I’m very impressed,” you lean into him and kiss his scruffy cheek. His whiskers are getting long again and they tickle your nose as you taste his soft skin. Frankie turns his head and catches your chin between his thumb and finger, pressing his warm lips against yours and you hum quietly under your breath. He feels so good and it’s been so long since you were in a place where you could relax enough to think about more than just a cuddle. Here isn’t safe either but the quiet of the open prairie around you lets you feel alone and secure. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibbles on it, you can feel his smile as you let your fingers thread through the curls sticking out under his cap.

“I really wish we had a room with a sturdy locked door,” he mumbles, his lips still close to yours, “I want you so fucking bad right now.”

“How fast can you get your pants back on if someone shows up?” you ask, cupping his rapidly swelling cock through his jeans. He groans and you can’t help but giggle at his instant reaction, his hips involuntarily thrusting up against your palm.

“Not fast enough, cariño,” he mutters, “fuck, we shouldn’t risk it but I really wanna fuck you right now.” The last words come as a groan as you palm him with a little bit more pressure, running your fingers along the outline of his hard length.

“Is the baby sleeping?” he asks, glancing over at the tent.

“Yeah, he’s down for the night I think,” you reply, sitting up a bit straighter and straining your ears to hear anything from around you.

“Hang on, cariño, hold that thought,” Frankie says and gets up, not without trouble. You’re camped in a small dip in the land, the river bank on the other side sheltering you from both the wind and anything, or anyone, else. He climbs out of the dip and looks around, the prairie is wide and flat, it feels like you can see for miles except for the few low trees and bushes that dot the landscape.

“C’mere,” he says as he returns down into the dip, “sit on my lap, if someone comes, I’ll shoot them with my dick out,” he’s smiling but his eyes are dark with lust.

You quickly pull off your pants and straddle his hips, reaching down to unbutton him and slip your hand into his boxers. He inhales when your hand closes around his thick length and you pull him free.

“Fuck…that feels so good, carino,” he groans as he caresses your hips, one hand moving up between your thighs to find you slick and warm. His fingers are soon coated in your wetness and you take his hand and make him spread it over his cock while you run your thumb through the silky drops on the fat head. He’s heavy and hard in your hand as you slide down, moving his hand out of way.

“You can come inside me today, Frankie,” you mumble, lining him up against your opening and your words, together with the feeling of your heat starting to envelop his swollen tip, makes him moan, his fingers digging harder into your hips as you slide down onto him.

As he stretches you open, you drop your head down onto his shoulder, his hands gently pulling you down over him. He’s starting to buck his hips up, planting his feet on the ground as he grinds himself deeper. You gasp against his neck when he’s got you flush against his hip, the coarse hairs at the base grazing over your clit. Frankie is already close, you can hear his breaths go short, growling as he hooks his hand over your shoulder and pulls you down again and again.

“Hermosa…” he gasps, “I’m not going to last, you feel too fucking good, so tight, fuck…” he groans and cups the back of your head, pulling you up so that he can slide his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as his fingers find your clit and circles it with practiced ease. He knows so well how to bring your climax to the surface fast. Heat builds rapidly in your body, Frankie’s tongue slipping over yours with a steady rhythm that matches his thrusts and as he increases the pressure of his fingers just a little bit, you topple over the edge. Gasping into his mouth you feel him pump himself up into your hard, groaning under you as he fills you up, you can feel the heat of his spend even through the last waves of your own orgasm.

Leaning your foreheads together you listen to the silence around you and your heavy breaths. Your heart is racing in your chest and you can feel Frankie’s pulse thrumming under your fingers where you’re holding on to his neck. Your knees are killing you and you wince as you carefully push yourself up, letting him slip out of you. The hard ground has been digging into them, but you hadn’t even noticed while Frankie was inside you. Now you groan and stand up, carefully brushing off your legs.

Frankie is looking up at your thighs, he can see his load drip out of you in the dim light and it makes his soft cock twitch again. He grabs your hips and sits up straighter, making your gasp when his tongue dips into your slit. You can hear him chuckle as his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, pulling you closer. His nose is nudging against your sensitive clit while he tastes himself on you, sliding the tip gently through your folds.

“Frankie,” you giggle, he’s tickling your oversensitive nerves, and you grab his curls, pushing him away as he looks up at you. His dimple sits deep in his cheek and his eyes are mischievous as he licks his lips.

“Perfect dessert, cariño,” he grins, smacking his lips.

“Dirty boy,” you smile back at him and turn to put your pants back on while he chuckles. He tucks himself away and you sit down next to him, leaning against him as he hooks his arm around your shoulders.

“If it wasn’t for the whole outbreak thing and constant threat of raiders and infected,” you say, threading your fingers through his, “this would be a perfect ‘Frankie date’.”

Frankie chuckles low behind your head, “I used to serve you better food than just plain trout on those dates. And give you better sex.”

“That was plenty good sex, dirty boy,” you smile, turning your head so that you can reach his lips. You can still taste your combined releases on him and you kiss him again. He leans his head against yours and you hear him yawn and you should tell him to go to bed, to sleep while you take the first watch. But you remain sitting, wrapped up in his warmth and the feeling of having a more normal version of Frankie really close by for the first time in months.

Despite the dangers of the open country around you, you can’t regret your decision to leave the QZ. You meant what you said to him while the withdrawals were plaguing his body; you’d rather have a little time with him out here than watch him waste away in the QZ.

“I love you, Frankie,” you say, looking out into inky darkness around your campsite.

“I love you too, hermosa,” he mumbles behind you and you feel his arms tighten their hold.

Chapter 35

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[trulybetty]

Flings | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 3,975 Warnings: Mature, no smut smut, but illusions to maybe some smut? Talk of food, alcohol, and a little angst - I think that's it, I apologize if I've missed something, please let me know if there's something needing adding. Summary: Five times things were supposed to be a fling between you and Frankie until it wasn't... AO3: Linked

A/N: Bookstore Frankie has taken on a life of his own, the original piece that this all came out of will be finished soon and I hope it lives up to expectations - I'm determined this week to get my WIP list down!

Fling. noun 1. a short period of enjoyment or wild behaviour. - a short, spontaneous sexual relationship.

1. Just a Fun Night Out

You had thrown caution to the wind and sent Frankie a text message that night after Cat had left your apartment. As she had said, different was good and what was the worst that could happen? No sooner had you sent the message, you had a response almost instantly. 

Frankie: I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you Maverick ;)

You hadn’t gone to bed until three am and called in sick the next day.

When he wasn’t participating in ‘military stuff’ the two of you were engaged in a back-and-forth of messaging. Seeing him again would have come sooner, but between the both of you, your schedules didn’t align until two weeks later. It had been intentional on Frankie’s part to arrange to meet at the same bar you’d had your first chance encounter.

Neither of you were under any false pretenses that this was going to be more than just a night of drinks, laughs and maybe, just maybe a nightcap at your place when closing time was called. 

No sooner had you closed the door behind you his hands were in your hair, his body pressing you up against the door. It was a furious tangle of limbs as you both tried to free one another from your clothes. His hat was the first thing to go, thrown across the room. His fingers fought with the button of your jeans causing him to curse furiously in Spanish before your fingers took over. The air was thick with want and need, your bodies aching for each other. With precision, you unbuckled his belt and slid it off him, throwing it aside after his hat. 

As you stumbled down the hallway towards your bedroom, the anticipation between you and Frankie grew more intense. At the edge of the bed, his hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of hot kisses on your neck and collarbone.  The atmosphere was electric as his hands slipped under your shirt, swiftly pulling it off. Your hands mirrored his actions, fingers deftly navigating the buttons of his shirt. Desperate to feel his skin against yours, you made quick work of them.

Together, you fell back onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. Taking a moment to catch your breath, Frankie framed your body with his, his arms holding him up over you. He dipped his head to kiss the tender spot between your neck and shoulder. His lips tracing your neck before his teeth nipped at your ear.

Your fingers snaked up his back, his shoulders before they tangled in his hair and with a tender tug you pulled his face to yours, your lips meeting his in a hungry and passionate kiss. There was a weight behind it, something more that neither one of you were able to think straight about, more focused on something more physical.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this since the moment I saw you tonight,” he said, his voice low and rough when you finally broke apart.

You smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair. “Likewise,” you replied.

As Frankie kissed you goodbye in the morning, you’d both smiled and agreed to meet up the next time Frankie was in town.

Somehow, conveniently, your schedules never had an issue of conflict from there out again.

2. A Chance Meeting in a Different City

A couple of months later, fortune seemed to pull you and Frankie together again in a momentous twist of fate. You found yourself in San Francisco for a work trip, your nose buried in a book at a coffee shop down on the pier. Frankie was there too, a coincidence that neither of you could have planned. Military aviation drills were taking place that week, and he was in the area for the events.

The day had been long, and you were lost in your thoughts when an imposing shadow suddenly crowded your space. Annoyance bubbled up inside you, but as you looked up, ready to voice your irritation, you were stopped in your tracks.

Standing there, looking just as surprised as you felt, was Frankie.

“Maverick,” he said, flashing that teasing grin of his.

“Frankie!” You exclaimed, jumping up and nearly knocking over your coffee. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you.

The initial shock quickly turned into pleasure as you both recognized the serendipity of the situation. Plans were hastily rearranged, and the two of you decided to seize the opportunity to explore the city together.

Over the next few days, you found yourselves walking the bustling streets and enjoying the tourist sights of San Francisco between conference meetings and Frankie’s own commitments. 

Nights were spent in your hotel room, it seemed no matter the city you both seemed to gravitate towards your bed. The past months had consisted of frequent visits to Seattle by Frankie and you'd even made the journey down to Pierce County to see him once or twice.

“You ever think about how this all started?” Frankie murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

“With your pilot pickup line?” you teased, snuggling closer to him.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, that, and everything else. I mean, what were the odds we'd meet like that? And then run into each other again here?”

It all felt so natural, so effortless, that neither of you questioned it.

3. New Year's Eve

Cat and her husband were throwing a New Year's Eve party and you had casually asked Frankie what his plans were two days before. He had told you that he was free and so you’d asked him if he wanted to join you, and you told yourself it was because no one should be alone for the new year and that was the only reason you’d extended the invitation.

The insanely large Costco-sized TV illuminated the living room playing the start of the countdown of the New York Times Square ball drop.

Ten.

You laughed at the party hat Cat had just unceremoniously placed on Frankie's head, she told him that it was strange seeing him out without his standard hat on, so in her tipsy state had written Standard Oil on the paper cone hat in Sharpie and plopped it on his head before giving you an equally garish one to wear also.

Nine.

The bubbles of the champagne tickled your lips as you brought it up for a tiny sip, ready to toast the New Year once the countdown was complete.

Eight.

Frankie reached around you to grab his own glass, he shifted closer, his hip knocking into yours, he didn’t step back.

Seven.

Your heart started beating a little faster, a mix of excitement from the impending new year and the unexpected intimacy of Frankie's proximity. The scent of him, familiar yet always exciting, mingled with the festive air around you.

Six.

The room was getting louder as more people appeared from around the house to watch the ball drop. Frankie’s hand rested on your hip as he turned you to face him.

Five.

You tried to dismiss the fluttering in your stomach as just the champagne, but deep down, you knew it was something more to do with the man in front of you.

Four.

The countdown was nearly over, and the room was filled with anticipation. But the only thing you could focus on was the look in Frankie's eyes.

Three.

As the countdown was close to reaching its climax, the room started to fill with shouts of excitement. But amid the festive chaos, you were drawn into an intimate bubble with Frankie. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear, and whispered, “I'm glad I came tonight.”

Two.

You turned to face him, your eyes locked, the world around you forgotten. “Me too,” you whispered back, your voice filled with emotion.

One.

As the crowd around you erupted in cheers, and the New Year was ushered in, Frankie's lips met yours in what started as a sweet kiss before your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. The kiss deepened and the two of you tried not to spill the drinks in your hands.

“Happy New Year Mav.” he grinned as he pulled back to look you in the eye.

“Happy New Year Frankie,” you echoed, your voice catching a little.

Frankie's hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. He leaned in to kiss you again, happy that you had messaged him two days before with an invitation to see in the New Year's. He hadn’t cancelled plans so fast before, furiously texting Santiago that something had come up and wouldn’t be attending the arranged party on base.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked before draining his glass. 

You nodded enthusiastically as you finished your own drink, “Let’s go.”

4. Valentine's Day

The salty taste of the bacon from your sandwich left its mark on your lips, and Frankie couldn't help but admire your quick tongue poking out to lick them away. In response, he licked his own lips appreciatively. 

You were both in your bed, the sheets dishevelled and the only reason Frankie wasn’t as naked as you were was because of the breakfast you were both eating. He’d not long returned with the food and coffees for you both from the bakery down the street after the two of you had enjoyed a lazy morning bed. You'd fallen back asleep and the breakfast was a welcome surprise.

What had also been a pleasant surprise was the bouquet of red roses that had turned up at your door the day before his arrival in town, Valentine's Day, with a card attached that simply said: “Just because.” You hadn’t questioned him on them. Just breathed in the aroma of the fresh flowers before finding something to put them in. Then spent the day working from home admiring the display out of the corner of your eye

You glanced up shyly from your sandwich as Frankie’s gaze on you grew more intense. 

“What?” you asked, feeling the heat creeping up your skin.

He leaned forward and brushed his thumb over your bottom lip before pressing his own to yours. He pulled back, smiling. “Nothing, I just can’t take my eyes off of you.”

You feigned indifference to mask the effect his words had on you, trying to make light of it.  Placing your now empty plate on the bedside table you looked back to Frankie, laid out on the bed next to you. His arm was folded under his head and you could see the bottom half of his tattoo poking out from under his shirt sleeves. The lines of which you had become very familiar with over the past months.

Shuffling over you straddled his hips, your knees nestled on either side as your hands pushed up his shirt to pepper kisses over his chest. With little fight, it wasn't long until his shirt was up and over his head and flung to the floor. He buckled his hips up and there was no missing the small "mm" that escaped from his lips. 

“Mav,” he breathed as his hands pulled you down to crash his lips against yours.

His kiss was a sudden rush, igniting butterflies in your chest. Your lips parted instinctively, and the soft touch of his tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine. In that moment, all resistance melted away as he gently guided you onto your back, his weight settling above you.

“Thank you for the flowers,” you murmured quietly as he trailed your jaw with kisses.

You could feel the smirk forming as he continued his trail to your ear where he nipped your ear, “No clue what you're talking about.”

5. A Wedding

You weren't sure when you both started relying on phone calls rather than texting one another. But it had become commonplace for either of you to carry out everyday tasks with the other's voice in your ear, chatting about any and everything.

It was during one of those calls that Frankie had asked if you would be his plus one. Get out of town for the weekend, free drink, free food, good company and two nights in a swanky hotel he'd jokingly said he had no business staying in, and maybe your presence alongside him might bump up his status allowing him to get away with staying.

You don't know what made you say yes - but you did.

You'd danced, flirted, enjoyed one another's presence and finally met the elusive men that formed the operative group Frankie was a part of.

“So,” you grinned over the glass of wine in your hands, “you're all real then.”

“Yes ma'am,” Will replied from across the table, tipping his drink to you.

“For a while here Francisco,” you said his name slowly and deliberately, savoring the way it rolled off of your tongue. You'd noticed that each time you called him by his full name, he'd let out a slight smile at the corner of his lips, “had me believing that his whole pilot thing was some elaborate ruse.”

Frankie chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. “I'm not that good of a liar,” he said with a wink. You knew he was telling the truth about being a pilot; after all, the private tour of the barracks he'd given you shortly after you met cleared that suspicion.

You shook your head smiling, “No, you're not.”

Santiago smiled widely as he gave Frankie a friendly pat on the back, “She's a catch, Frankie.”

Frankie held his hand out to you, beckoning you sincerely. “C'mon Mav, come dance with me.”

So you allowed him to lead you out to the dancefloor, it was a slow song that the two of you swayed along to. His hips pressed against yours, his hands at your waist, yours around your neck.

As the song ended, Frankie didn't release you from his hold. Instead, he dipped his head down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You look stunning tonight,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “You don't look too bad yourself,” you replied, a hint of teasing in your voice. “and you're welcome.”

Amidst the laughter and the champagne toasts, you both found yourselves watching the newlyweds with a strange sense of longing, though neither of you mentioned it to the other. Choosing instead to brush it off as nothing more than a fleeting emotion, but it lingered, nagging at you both for the remainder of the weekend.

The One Night.

He never came into town on a weekday, it was always between a Friday and the weekend. That should have been your first indication that something was up. He also hadn’t used the ridiculous nickname he’d bestowed on you, Maverick, that outwardly you voiced your displeasure at but inwardly you had grown quite fond of it. 

The other bigger tell that something was going on was the fact that he hadn’t kissed you. He’d kissed your forehead when he’d walked through the door, hugged you a little longer once he made it through the threshold and was now sat as far as possible at the other end of your sofa.

It was just a year shy of the night the two of you had first met.

Your relationship had defied conventional labels, existing in the spaces between dates and casual encounters. Though words had never been exchanged, the unspoken understanding between you both was a bond that had grown stronger over the last year. But with the way he was acting, you were convinced this was it. That this was him telling you that he'd met someone.

So when the words, “I'm being stationed in Colorado next month.” came out of his mouth, he'd had to ask if you'd heard him because you were still processing that there wasn't another person. 

“You're...what?” you finally managed to stammer, looking at Frankie, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of excitement, fear, and uncertainty.

“I've been reassigned to a new base in Colorado,” he repeated, his voice firm but his eyes soft, searching your face for a reaction, “but I... I don't want to go without talking to you about it.”

You blinked at him, your mind still reeling, the weight of what he was saying sinking in slowly. This was more than just a fling. It was more than just a casual thing between two consenting adults. This was real, and the very real possibility of losing him was hitting you like a sledgehammer.

“You want to talk about it?” you asked, your voice trembling, tears threatening to spill over. “What is there to talk about? You're leaving.”

Frankie's face fell, and he moved closer, reaching out to take your hand. “It's not that simple, and I know you know that.”

“Know what?”

Removing his hat and tossing it onto the coffee table, he ran his hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. His gaze fixed on you with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “Come on Mav, I know you're not this obtuse,” he stated with a playful grin, as if the answer to the unspoken question was written across your face.

You swallowed hard, “Frankie, I–” you attempted to find the words as your brain struggled to catch up. 

“Look, whatever this is,” he didn't wait for you to find your voice, “I'm not ready to walk away, at least not without at least asking you first,” you watched his shoulders raise in a deep sigh as it let it go slowly, “will you come with me? To Colorado, will you come with me?”

The air was sucked out of your lungs and the room was filled with silence, your mind racing as you processed what he was saying. It was true, the two of you had become more than just a fling, but this was big. This was a life-altering decision.

You stared at him, disbelief written all over your face. “Come with you? To Colorado? Frankie, I have a life here. A job, friends, family.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking, “I know it's a lot to ask, but I can't imagine being there without you. I, I can't imagine my life without you.”

The tears were flowing now, and you were unable to stop them. A year of emotions, a year of denying what you felt, what you wanted, was crashing down around you, and there was no escaping it.

“You're asking me to give up everything,” you said, your voice filled with doubt. “You're asking me to take a huge risk.”

Frankie wiped away your tears with his thumb, “I'm asking you to decide if this is something you want, if you're willing to take a chance on me, on us… me.” he took in a deep breath, “But if you're feeling anything like I do about you, then you know that I'm serious about this, about us.”

When you didn't respond he sighed, “Look, I'm going to go and let you think about this. I'm not leaving for another month. If you don't want to come, then–” he drifted off, he hadn't really contemplated the possibility of you saying no, “then it's been an amazing year and–” his voice caught in his throat, “and I think I can be happy with that.”

He leaned in and kissed you. It was a deep embrace, his lips lingering on yours. His stubble gently scratched your face as if it were the last time he would feel you this close to him. He lingered for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he took in a deep breath before he stood and left your apartment.

You sat in the silence of your living room, the click of the front door an echo as you processed what had just happened. 

Frankie was leaving for Colorado in a month.

Frankie had asked you to move to Colorado.

Frankie loved you?

You looked at the coffee table, Frankie's hat was still there where he'd left it.

You snatched the hat from the table and grabbed your keys before sprinting to the door. With no time for an elevator, you took off down the four flights of stairs. When you reached the lobby, it was empty. 

You opened the door to your apartment building and frantically scanned the street, looking for Frankie. There he was, standing beside his truck down the street, his hand in his pocket for his truck keys. You watched him run a hand through his hair and curse when he realized he didn't have his cap. You didn't waste any time as you watched him fish his keys out of his jacket and unlocked the door of his truck.

“Frankie!” you shouted, he looked up startled, his hand on the door handle.

You continued to run towards him, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally reached him, you practically collided into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him. He stumbled back a few steps, but quickly regained his footing and returned the embrace.

You were talking into Frankie's chest, a rapid, breathless spill of words that tumbled out in a rush. He couldn't make out what you were saying, but he held you close, his arms strong and reassuring around you.

“Mav,” he said gently, trying to calm you down. “I can't understand what you're saying. Please, slow down.”

You stepped back, your eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and determination. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“Frankie,” you said, your voice trembling. “I'll go with you. Wherever it is, I'll go with you,” you said with more conviction to your voice. “I don't know how this is all going to work and logistics,” You said with a small laugh, “but I do know,” you took in a deep breath, “I love you and I'm not okay with the idea of this between us just ending here.”

“That's all I need to hear,” He dropped his forehead to yours, there was no missing the smile that lit up his face, “I love you too Mav.”

He slipped one hand around your waist as he softly thumbed your lips with his other, before leaning in to kiss you. The kiss was sweet at first, but soon turned into something more. Something hungry, something desperate to make up for the both of you failing to acknowledge what had been growing between you for so long.

“Do you have to be back on base tonight?” you asked breathless.

He shook his head, letting out a laugh. “I took a couple days off,” he admitted with a shy smile. “I wasn't sure how this was going to play out—it was either ending in your bed together or drinking beer in mine alone.”

“I think I have a couple of sick days I can cash in if you still want to finish this in bed? I mean, I have beer too.”

Frankie chuckled, “I'd like that,” he leant down to place another kiss to your lips, the admittance of your feelings for one another giving him no restrictions in letting you know how he really felt. “I think we have some catching up to do,” he said softly

You nodded, smiling through the tears that still lingered. “Yeah, we do,” you murmured, and hand in hand, the two of you headed back to your apartment.

#frankie morales/f!reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier fanfiction

[juletheghoul]

The Date

AN: It's wild to me, that whenever I have a writers block - the cure is inevitably to write a pussy-drunk Francisco Morales. This is a sequel to The Party, couldn't leave these two without another meeting. I'm trying to reintegrate myself onto tumblr and to continue to work on my many projects - quick thank you to my girl @wheresarizona for beta-ing this fever dream and for generally being supportive and amazing. Hope you enjoy xox.

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings;  piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 2k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

----

It had been months since your interlude at the party Maureen had dragged you to, months since you’d let the gorgeous, married man fuck you in the back of his truck, and if you were honest with yourself - you never actually thought he’d follow through and call you. But he did. 

He’d called. 

It had happened a few months later, after a particularly rough day, and had you not brought your phone into the bathroom with you while you ran your bath, you might have missed it. It rang loudly as you shut off the water, your annoyed sigh melding with the sweet-smelling steam in the air at the thought that your overeager coworker might be calling you after hours. 

The sigh turned into a gasp at the flash of his name across your screen, and that roller coaster feeling in your gut froze you in place; it almost made you miss the call. 

“Hello?” Your voice echoed through the small room, accompanied by the steady drip of water into the warm bath. 

“Hey-” His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the sound of it in your ear bringing your thoughts back to his truck with crystalline clarity.

“Hi-” You repeated the greeting, now with a smile on your face. “I’ll be honest - I never actually thought you’d call.” Your hand toyed with the towel on the counter. 

“I didn’t actually think you’d answer.” He laughed, the sound rich and warm and so welcome. “I thought you might have forgotten about me, figured you’d deleted my number.”

“Does this call mean that you’re single?” The phone was cradled between your shoulder and your ear in order to begin disrobing - the bath water wouldn’t stay hot for long. 

“Yes, finalized everything a couple of weeks ago.” You could hear keys jingling, and your thoughts brought you back to the truck again, the steam on the windows and the bruise you’d worn on your thigh for days. “Think you’d maybe want to grab dinner with me or something?” His tone suggested that those same memories followed him as well, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yes, or something.” He laughed now, too, “How about Friday?” You shucked off your sweats as you spoke, eager to submerge yourself into an epsom salt oasis. 

“Definitely works for me. Send me your address, and I’ll pick you up. Can’t wait to see you again. Have a great night.” And with that, the day suddenly didn’t seem so bad. 

-

It had been a long time since he’d gone out on a first date, a long time since he’d been excited about the prospect of one, but here he was - nervously rubbing at his denim-clad thighs as he walked up to her front door. He’d been nervous about the whole thing as he knocked softly, worrying briefly that maybe he’d misunderstood the meaning of the outing. Maybe she hadn’t been flirting with him over the phone - maybe she didn’t want to date a recently divorced man. 

It all went out the window when she opened the door, her pupils dilating that same way as their first encounter, her pretty lips stretched into a gorgeous smile. 

“You’re on time.” She breathed it out, moving aside for him to come in, and he followed. 

“I was eager, you look amazing -” He frowned suddenly, annoyed with himself. “I should have gotten you flowers-” He tapped at his pockets as though he might tap them into existence. 

“Oh-” she laughed, the sound tinkling in his ears, “don’t worry about that I wasn’t expecting any.” She waved away his concern, the movement of her dress drawing his eye. 

“I still should have, I’ll make it up on the second date.” The same tinkling as she checked a mirror hanging in her foyer.

“Haven’t even left for our first date and already planning the second?” She smiled at him shyly, the air between them charged. 

“Oh yes, I’m not done with you yet.” He looked her up and down, bold and unashamed. 

–

He looked just as handsome as you remembered; tall and strong with those lovely brown eyes and that gorgeous dimple. His hair had grown out a bit, curling over the tops of his ears and your fingers itched to reach out and thread through them. 

You never made it to the restaurant, you never even made it to your bed.

His tongue was insistent, tasting every inch of your mouth as he devoured you while his hands held you tightly against him. First at your shoulders, slipping between the straps of your dress and your heated skin to expose every inch he could. Then to your waist, pulling you close to his body, solid muscle tense under your hands.

They moved further down, bunching up the bottom of your dress so he could reach under and grab greedy handfuls of your ass, feeding a groan directly into your mouth once he made contact. His kiss moved to your neck, open-mouthed at your pulse point.

“Lay back.” He pulled your earlobe between his teeth softly, sending a shiver down your spine and making you throb. He guided you to your sofa, the hungry look on his face driving a hot spike of arousal into your belly. He pooled the dress up, curling his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and you lifted your hips to help him with a smile. “Been thinking about this since the truck.” He licked his lips as he pushed your thighs up and apart, his gaze making you drip.

He dove in like a man lost in the desert, dove in like you were a freshwater spring, groaning into your skin with his nose pressed against your mound in his need to taste every inch of your pert little clit. The itch to run your fingers through his curls was sated with a pant, the soft strands slipping through your fingers as your nails scratched reverently at his scalp in the soft glow of your quiet living room.

He held your thighs apart with heavy hands, keeping you spread open and pulsing for his mouth, his tongue dipping down to swirl deliciously around the rim of your opening before slipping it in as deep as he could. Desperate, it seemed to taste the very heart of you. He moaned into it, shameless in his enjoyment, before pulling away to adjust himself on the couch. Strings of your arousal tying him to you for a brief moment, the image of which would be burned into your memory to treasure forever. 

“God, baby, you taste so fucking good.” He bit at the meat of your thigh, kissing the lips of your sex as though it were your mouth. It was so fucking erotic, his pussy-drunk expression, hypnotized and starving for it. 

“Don’t tease me, Frankie-“ He dove back in with gusto, wide licks to your clit, and it was almost unfair how quickly he pushed you towards the edge, your stomach clenching the closer you got to nirvana. “Frankie baby, oh god, I’m gonna come-“ his hand moved quickly, and with two thick fingers, he speared into your aching heat. His tongue kept up that perfect rhythm, and after a handful of petting strokes from his fingers - euphoria exploded, radiating out through your veins.

He groaned to feel you clench around his fingers, his tongue never faltering, the breadth of his shoulders keeping your legs open to his assault. 

He was softly kissing your mound when your soul re-entered your body, worshiping at the mouth of your sex. 

“Come up here.” You grabbed at the collar of his shirt, eager to feel him inside again, and for a moment, he resisted.

“I wanna keep eating your pussy.” He palmed your cunt for a moment before he let you pull him toward you. “Can I?” He slotted his hips between yours on your narrow couch, his face shiny with your slick.

“As amazing as that sounds, I want you to fuck me, need you to stretch me open with your big dick like you did before.” You undid his shirt as you kissed him, licking into his mouth to taste yourself. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hands hurriedly undoing his pants to pull his cock out, a loud sigh leaving your lips at the sight of him blushing red and sticky with precome. “Spread open for me, gorgeous.” He leaned back for a moment, his cock grasped in his hand - brow furrowed as he fed it into you achingly slow.

Sweat beaded in your hairline, it coated his chest where you managed to get his shirt open - your gaze moving from the hollow of his throat down to where you were joined - mesmerized at the image of him coating himself in you with every thrust. 

It felt too good to speak - neither of you were able to articulate a word, the only sounds were sharp breaths and pants, the wet plunge of him into your hungry little cunt. He added more force, and it pulled an involuntary moan from somewhere in your throat. 

“I’m close, your tight little pussy is going to make me come.” He sped up a little, and it was much too soon. 

“Wait - wait, baby, not yet.” You wrapped your legs around him, holding him tight to you, and he stopped for a moment - his eyes almost unfocused with lust. “Don’t come yet, I want you to fuck me longer.” You kissed his neck, holding him still, and he pressed his forehead to yours, a gorgeous sigh rewarding your words.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me, baby - don’t move - I’m so fucking close.” He closed his eyes, holding himself stock still, and you had to fight the urge not to clench around him. Instead, you slid your hands under his open shirt to caress the skin of his back, careful not to jostle him. He took a few steadying breaths before he opened his eyes to look at you, a soft smile on his face. “I’m really glad I called.” He placed kisses around your collarbones like a necklace, pulling your dress down along with the cups of your bra. 

“I’m really glad you did too - oh - that feels really good, Frankie.” Your fingers slid up to hold onto his curls as he took one nipple into his mouth, then the other. His mouth was just as relentless with the sensitive buds as it was between your legs - pulling wave after wave of slick to drip out around him, and before long, he was rocking in and out again.

“I can’t hold still, you feel too good.” He breathed the words into your chest, kissing a path up from your breast to your lips, and then his tongue was in your mouth; he was stealing the breath right out of your lungs. 

His shallow rocking soon became a heavy thrust, his hips pistoning harder than before, and with every press, your mind blanks. Cock-dumb. Euphoria. Heaven.

He reached for your hand blindly, and with what could only be described as desperation, he stuck your fingers into his mouth, moistening them before guiding them down to your clit. There weren’t any words needed, there weren’t any words left in your brain or in your mouth, and it was only a few practised swirls before you were clenching around him with a pained gasp.

“Fuck-“ his voice was guttural, “There it is, fuck baby, I’m gonna come, can I come inside you? Please?” His hips stuttered, and your cunt fluttered from the aftershocks of your orgasm, fluttered at the thought of being filled, and now he was almost whimpering in your ear, and when you breathed out yes Frankie, inside, he seized. 

His hand on your hip squeezed as he ground his come deep inside, replacing that bruise from the first time, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of feeling it tomorrow. 

He breathed deep, face buried in the crook of your neck, and for a moment, there was only peaceful shared breath.

“I haven’t come like that in years.” He was shaky when he pulled up a bit to look at you, his flushed smile almost nervous. 

“Me either.” You smiled back, pushing his sweat-damp hair away from his face before pulling him in for a kiss. “Let’s make it a goal.” He laughed, nerves dissipating one moment at a time. 

“I would be happy to.” 

-

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#frankie x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #francisco morales #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #frankie x you #frankie morales/reader #triple frontier #triple frontier au #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales/female reader #frankie morales x reader

[weirdandnerdyinlasvegas]

Dream House

Summary: Sometimes it is the smallest thing that matters.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Word Count: 700 (keepin' it short and sweet)

No physical description of reader. Reader is a teacher. Classroom chaos mentioned in passing. Lots of fluff. This is my second attempt at any sort of fic. I'm just proud I finished something. Go me!

The sky had held the promise of snow most of the day. The clouds were gray and thick, covering the entire sky. A wet, cold chill swirled around your legs, and you rushed to the truck to go home. Frankie had insisted that you take his truck to work that morning, worried that snow might start before you were home. Pulling carefully out of the parking lot at work, you head towards the home you and Frankie shared.

Just before you had been married, Frankie rushed into the too-small kitchen of your too-small apartment out of breath with excitement.

“It’s for sale,” he panted out.

Your eyes widened with disbelief. “Don’t tease, Francisco. It’s been a day. Tanner kept eating the playdough. Madison poured the glue all over the floor, then had a meltdown because there wasn’t any glue to put the snowflakes on her picture. And zero kids were listening during the morning meeting."

“Baby,” he gently cradles your face with both of his hands. “Baby, look at me. I drove past there on the way home from work, and there’s a sign. Out front. For sale. Look, I took a picture.” Frankie fumbled with his phone to show you the picture he had taken of the house. The house. THE house. A Victorian house on a quiet street that you had both fallen in love with on a walk through the neighborhood with Flynn, your Australian Shepherd. It was in need of a renovator's hand and a good landscaper, but the house still had an indescribable charm. It was on that walk that night, standing in front of this house, that you and Frankie started to dream about the future.

“It’s for sale." With shaking hands, you looked at the picture on Frankie’s phone. “I don’t know, Sweets. It's a bit more house than we need right now, and the renovations alone will be crazy." But you took one look at Frankie and knew that none of it mattered. It was your house, your home.

After you had closed on your dream house, it seemed like something new needed to be fixed or replaced every few weeks. That’s why, when you walked into the house to find Frankie leaning over the sink and his tool box on the counter, you assumed something else was going to need to be repaired. “Oh no, love. What broke now? Please tell me it wasn’t the faucet! I swear I installed it just like it showed on YouTube. I read the directions a million times."

Frankie chuckled. “No, no. This time, nothing broke. But I did install this.” He pointed to a thin brass hook sticking out from the wall just to the left of the window sill. Too low to hang a plant from and awkwardly placed on the stove for cooking utensils, you look at him confused.

“Remember when you were making cinnamon rolls and Nacho jumped up on the counter to sun himself in the window and almost knocked your wedding ring into the sink? And you almost had a heart attack?"

You nod your head slowly, remembering the lurching feeling in your stomach when your giant orange tiger cat hopped up onto the counter and then to the sill. Your ring fell into the sink and slowly circled the drain.

“I didn’t almost have a heart attack."

“Well, I almost did when you screamed like that. So I installed this little hook for you to hang your ring so Nacho doesn’t knock it down again. And I won’t have years taken off my life rushing down the not exactly safe stairs trying to make sure you weren’t being murdered in our kitchen."

You look at your husband with absolute adoration in your eyes. “Frankie,” you whispered as you threw your arms around his neck, peppering his face with kisses. “Thank you, baby. This is so thoughtful."

“Anything for you, my love. Oh, and before I forget, the other faucet you installed in the powder room? Leaked and flooded the whole bathroom. We're going to have to replace it... again."

There were a million other renovation projects to be done in the house, but the simple brass hook gleaming in the warm light of the kitchen was by far your favorite addition.

#frankie morales/reader #frankie catfish morales #fic #i finish a thing #frankie morales x reader #writing #this was inspired by a post I saw on Facebook #i'm actually proud of myself

[wheresarizona]

My Girlfriend’s Moans are Hot

summary: Age 20—It didn’t surprise you when innocent cuddling in bed, watching a movie you and Francis had seen a thousand times, devolved into you fucking each other’s brains out.

pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales/f!eader (Nickname: Spills)

rating: E (18+! This is pure smut. Oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), multiple orgasms, spanking, dirty talk, cream pie, two people who love each other a lot and like to have fun while having sex, Francis is a goofball, a sexy goofball)

word count: 1700

(A/N: This fic is for my dear friend Jules, @juletheghoul based on her incredible series Oblivius. It’s an au of her au where Francis (Frankie) and Spills (Reader) are high school sweethearts and don’t fight their feelings. They fall in love young and have a happily ever after. This fic is a glimpse into that life. Here Frankie hasn’t been hardened by the military just yet, he’s happy, a little goofy, and madly in love. Oblivius is a wonderful series that I have been obsessed with since the first chapter, it was an honor to write about these characters that I love, who Jules introduced us to, and fleshed out so wonderfully that they live rent free in my head. I hope I do them justice. ❤️❤️❤️)

Comments and reblogs appreciated!

Masterlist

Age: 20

You’d been each other's first everything—First date, first boyfriend/girlfriend, first time. Francis was your first kiss, and you gave him shit over not being his.

“I’m sure you’d rather be kissing Jennifer….” You frowned.

“I’ve said it a million times, Spills,” he sighed. “We were twelve, and it was barely a kiss. I think of the first time I kissed you as my real first.”

Your eyes got big, feeling yourself soften. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. You let me use tongue.”

“Francisco!”

You were young and madly in love with each other—inseparable since the moment you’d met in the tenth grade. Friendship turned into love, and you both knew that you were it for each other, neither of you able to imagine a life without the other.

You knew everything about each other—likes, dislikes, wants, desires—spending almost all of your time together since the moment you’d met.

Which meant it hadn’t surprised you that innocent cuddling in bed, watching a movie the two of you had seen a thousand times, led to Francis kissing at your neck, sliding his hand along your side, over your shirt, and down to your bare thigh, and back up again to palm your breast.

You tried to hold out, feigning interest in what was playing, but his fingers plucked at your nipple as he sucked on that one spot below your ear that made your pussy throb and your toes curl, and your resolve shattered. You turned in his arms, lips finding his in a searing kiss, moaning into his mouth as his tongue met yours.

He pulled you on top of him, already feeling him hardening in his boxers underneath you, and the two of you got lost in each other, mouths fused together, hungrily kissing as his hands held onto your ass, helping you grind your wet clothed core against his now straining length, gasping and moaning, moving just right to rub against your clit, sending jolts up your spine.

He knew your body like his own, knew when you needed more, his hand moving to toss the blanket off the two of you before bodily moving you underneath him, caging you in as he kissed you hard.

“Want to eat your pussy,” he said against your lips, and the thought of his mouth on you made you moan. He kissed along your jaw, hands moving to the hem of your shirt. “Gonna eat you out.” He pulled your shirt up, you helping him get it off. His mouth immediately moved to latch onto a bared nipple, making you gasp and desire burn bright in your belly. He came off with a ‘pop,’ “You want me to lick it, baby?” He was moving down your body, kissing along the skin of your belly. “Want me to make you come all over my face?” You moaned, your panties wet with arousal, cunt achingly empty. He was between your legs, quickly removing your underwear, along with his own clothes, and then he settled himself at your throbbing core, using two fingers to spread your lips. “God, baby, you’re so wet. You want my mouth?”

“Please,” you moaned.

He dove in, licking a stripe from your entrance to clit, making you gasp and your back arch as the pleasure spread through you, his arm moving to hold down your stomach. Francis had made pussy eating an art, had spent hours between your legs learning every which way to make you fall apart. He was relentless, his tongue working in practiced movements to work you up. Pleasure was wracking through your body with each stroke of his tongue and nuzzle of his nose, playing your body in a way nobody else ever could. Your pussy drooled, the pleasure building until finally, it exploded, coming with a shout of his name, your body awash in orgasmic bliss, as your fingers dug into the sheets for something to hold onto.

He continued licking, drinking down your high with his own groans.

“Taste so fucking good. Give me one more.”

“God,” you moaned as he latched his lips around your clit.

He used his mouth and fingers, spearing you open with two digits and making you gasp at the sudden intrusion. The room was filled with the wet sounds of his fingers fucking into you, his mouth licking and sucking at your flesh, groans reverberating from his chest, and your moans you couldn’t stop. You were still riding your high, Francis expertly building you up once more. Your limbs were tingling, there was a slight haze to your brain, and it surprised you when you crested again, a strangled, “Fuck,” escaping your lips as you rode out your high, body aflame in pleasure.

When your brain could finally think a coherent thought, he was kissing back up your body until his lips were on yours, making you moan at tasting yourself, him taking the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. You languidly kissed, your hands landing in his hair, as he palmed your breast and tweaked your nipple.

“I wanna be on top,” you said.

He playfully smacked your thigh, making you yelp as he laid down on his back next to you.

“Your ride awaits,” he said, pointing at his hard cock, jutting from his hips.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said with a roll of your eyes and a smile, throwing your leg over his waist.

You braced your hands on his chest, his moving to grab onto your ass, digging his fingers into the flesh. You rubbed your wet cunt along the length of him, watching his brows furrow and mouth slightly open, his eyes more black than the gorgeous brown you loved, watching you with burning desire. You waited for him to get impatient—to beg you to let him inside, and it didn’t take long; he smacked your ass.

“Stop teasing,” he said.

You continued to move languidly, his cock wet with your slick.

“No please?” You asked sweetly.

He smacked your ass again.

“Please, baby, stop teasing, and ride my dick.”

“That’s more like it.”

You moved up, positioning him at your entrance, and then you sank down, both of you moaning as he stretched you open. His fingers had opened you up, but there was still a delicious stretch that made your cunt throb.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good,” he panted. His hands were holding you down on him, taking a moment to bask in the way you felt squeezing him. “I love it. Best fucking thing in the world.”

You felt so full, breaths coming out heavy, eyes closed.

“You’re so romantic,” you said, breathily.

“I love you, Spills.” His hand moved to where yours was on his chest, lacing your fingers together. You opened your eyes to meet his, seeing a look of adoration on his face.

“I love you, too, Francis.”

His other hand smacked your ass, making you gasp and clench around him.

“Now ride me like you mean it.”

You rolled your eyes but took it as a challenge, bouncing yourself on him. Each downstroke had the air punching out of your lungs and a current igniting in your belly. His fingers on your ass dug into your skin.

“So fucking good,” he said. “Feels so fucking good.”

You ground your hips against him, the coarse hairs at the base of cock rubbing deliciously against your swollen clit. You were chasing your high, so close you could taste it. You just needed—

His hands grabbed hold of your ass as he planted his feet onto the mattress, and he started moving from under you, pulling you down as he thrust up, drilling into you and making your brain buzz. You were chanting his name, the sounds clipped as the breath rushed out of you. He was grunting with his efforts, face contorted in concentration.

“Come on, baby, come for me,” he grunted. “Come on my cock. Wanna feel you squeeze me. Choke my dick.”

His words sent you over, your pussy clenching around him like a vice as you came around him, slumping forward as it was wrung from your body.

“That’s it. Fuck, that’s it. So good to me.”

One second you were on top, the next, you were under him, and somehow he managed to keep himself inside of you in this change of positioning.

He moved your legs up high on his hips, his arms on either side of your head for leverage, and then his mouth was on yours, tongue moving past your lips.

He railed into you, deep, hard, steady thrusts that made all thoughts disappear, your brain only able to focus on him—on Francis. The way he surrounded you and consumed you made you wonder where he ended and you began, the two of you so intertwined, like you were one soul, one body. You were making noises that he was swallowing with his kisses, groans, and grunts coming from his chest.

“Fill me up,” you said without even thinking. “I wanna feel you.”

Your words made a deep, guttural groan come out of his mouth, his hips stuttering for a moment.

“Fuck, baby. I’m going to give it to you—fill you up and make you drip.”

You moaned at the promise.

He was close, strokes getting quicker and harder, grunting with the exertion, until finally, he was pushing in hard, coming deep inside, with a loud groan. He was grinding his hips, fucking himself deeper through the oversensitivity, until finally, he stilled, his body collapsing on yours, his head nestled against your neck.

You stroked your hands along his back, feeling the muscles beneath his skin, moving lower to grab his ass before moving back up again. He was breathing hard, letting his high roll through him. He nuzzled your cheek, kissing your jaw.

“We’re too fucking good at this.” His words were slightly slurred, and it made you smile.

You huffed out a breath.

“We practice enough. We’re basically professionals.”

“We should have sponsorships.”

You snorted.

“Like Magnum condoms?” You asked.

“I was thinking Plan-B and Gatorade.”

“Francisco!”

But you couldn’t help it. The two of you started laughing, enjoying yourselves in the post-coital bliss and the knowledge that you were with the one you were meant to be with.

Tagging:

@juletheghoul @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @perropascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @dins-cyare @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @spanishmossmagnolia

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #Frankie morales/reader #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #wheresarizona writes #Oblivius au #Oblivius #for Jules my beloved #francis and spills