Chapter Text
six. look at you and your design
Somewhere along the way, Frank realizes he might be pushing Mel’s boundaries with the reminders to eat and the insistence in taking care of her. But there’s this inherent need inside of him to do it. To make sure she’s taking care of herself and if she’s not, doing it himself.
In the silent moments, when Frank wakes up in the middle of the night to Mel wrapped around his arm like a koala bear, he wonders if he’s in too deep. If he’s out of his depth, trying to do too much. But then she’ll nuzzle into his chest, or whisper his name in her sleep, and Frank finds he simply doesn’t give a fuck.
He has Mel King wrapped around him like a vine and he’ll stand steady and let her grow taller, ideally around him.
Slowly but surely, Frank crosses off items of their list. It’s a standing appointment now, every week, to sit down with their laptops and shared spreadsheets. To leave comments—cockwarming: enjoyable but not too often—and color code cells—spanking turns green, with Mel biting her lip as she quickly types out especially during intercourse from behind. He’ll ask her for follow-up reviews and ratings and Mel will thoughtfully give her feedback: I really like it when you hold me down. I like not being able to move away. I’m not sure I like it when you tease me for too long, or are too light. I like firm touches. I want to please you more.
Frank politely responds to the latter with, “You do please me, Mel. All the time.” He places a strand of hair falling in front of her face behind her ear, lingering. “Don’t worry about me.”
Mel frowns. “I want to give you a blowjob.” She highlights the corresponding cell, switching its color to bright green. “Please.”
Frank avoids her eyes, playing with the ends of her hair. “I know. It’s on the list.” It’s not that Frank doesn’t want it—he does, desperately, fantasizes about her mouth around his cock, sucking and licking and swallowing. And it’s not about her not being ready—she clearly is, and she wants it, which is more than he can ask for—but he’s not sure he’s ready. To be so completely at her mercy like that.
So Frank pulls his laptop closer to him again, highlights the somnophilia cell, and changes the subject, prodding her for her vision for that instead.
Frank has always been a morning person. He used to run marathons, and after rehab, he returns to his morning jogs, preferring the quiet of the sunrise to center himself. He’d installed a pull-up bar in the doorway of the guest room a week into moving in, and feeling Mel’s eyes on him when he uses it is a wonderful added bonus.
This morning, however, instead of sliding out of bed to change into shorts, he props his head up and watches Mel sleep.
He’s antsy—there’s excess energy right under his skin that usually he’d run off, a way to distract him in case that itch turned into something more dangerous. But right now, as Mel’s chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, Frank wants to center himself a different way. He wants to be grounded, wants that same calm, but the one that usually comes with Mel and her grin and blunt observations.
Mel shifts onto her stomach, still asleep, and her shirt rides up enough that he can admire the stretch of skin at the dip of her lower back. She’s wearing a simple pair of white cotton panties at his instruction, bare legs on display. Gently, he slides a hand back and forth over the back of her thigh, savoring the feeling of her muscles settling under his touch.
She remains asleep.
Frank isn’t sure when exactly he makes the decision, but the sun has only just risen and it’s a shared day off and the fire in his stomach is building when his fingers linger just between her legs and he feels the heat of her. He wants to bury himself inside of her. He wants to silence the buzzing in his head. He wants… her.
And he’s been given permission to take her. So he does.
Slowly, to not wake her up, Frank pulls off Mel’s underwear. Before tossing it aside, he inhales the scent of Mel before pulling off his own boxers and dumping both garments to the side of the bed. Absently, he strokes his cock as he lifts onto his knees. Pushing her legs apart, he bends one of her knees, opening her up to him. There’s a moment where he hesitates—she mumbles something as her head flips on the pillow, sounding suspiciously like please, Frank, I need you—and Frank has to grin as his thumb gently slides through her folds. She’s not as wet as she is when awake, but she’s definitely glistening, and a few solid circles over her clit make it easier when Frank finally slides inside of her.
It’s tight and hot and takes a little work—slow, shallow pumps at first, in and out to open her up fully, to allow himself to sink deeper inside her—but eventually he bands his arm around her hips to lift her slightly, feeling her ass pressed hard against his pelvis. Mel whimpers, but doesn’t wake, and his lays kisses along her shoulder blades.
Then he fucks her.
He’s not gentle. He’s slow, because he doesn’t really want to wake her, but he’s hard and bruising, one hand pressed firmly around her hip. He wants her to wake up in the morning and feel the imprints of his desire, on her skin and inside her cunt, stretched out and sated, because no one else can linger like he can. She’s heavy in that way only an unconscious person can be, but pliant and responsive, because he can feel her wetness seeping around him. His arms ache holding her up, so eventually he places her stomach back onto the mattress, pinned down by his hips, her legs stretched straight so he can push into her from a different angle, still deep and tight and unrelenting.
There’s a moment right before Frank decides he’s savored the feeling of her enough where he suspects she wakes up. Her fingers curl into the sheets by her shoulders, her tiny whimpers turning into elongated moans, and he thinks he hears her whisper his name. But Mel—his beautiful, obedient, sweet girl, Mel—doesn’t turn or fidget, doesn’t try to squirm away from him. She lays there and takes it, like the good girl she is.
He rewards her by licking his thumb and pressing it against her puckered hole. Immediately, Mel stiffens under him, even as he thrusts harder, and he presses just a bit deeper. The noises she makes are muffled against the pillow, but Frank feels her squeeze him tighter, fluttering on the edge, just in time for him to let go and come inside her, a tiny chuckle escaping his lips.
Bending over, he kisses the top of her spine. “I know you’re awake.”
Mel cranes her neck a little, lip bitten and face flushed pink. “I didn’t want you to stop.”
Stroking her hair, he slowly pulls out of her, smiling when her eyes flutter. “I wouldn’t have stopped.” He gently tugs her onto her back, hands arranging her hair in a halo before sliding down her body. Squeezing one breast, tweaking a nipple, pressing against the rolls of her stomach. “God, you’re beautiful.”
Mel slyly bites her lip. “You were rougher than usual.” She squirms a little, his come slowly leaking out. “I liked it.”
Frank raises an eyebrow. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly inserts two fingers, pushing his come back inside of her. When her mouth parts, a little in surprise and a lot in pleasure, he grins. “I know you did.”
Her fingers curl into the sheets. “What are you doing?”
“Making you come.” He lies down on his side beside her, using a leg over hers to keep her pinned down and his knee to keep her nice and open. Leaning against the bedframe, he curls his hand under her neck. “Watch.”
And she does, biting her lip, as he fingers her. Gentle at first, letting her get used to him, but it’s slippery and wet, and he presses down on her clit and she comes quickly the first time. As she recovers from the first orgasm, he doesn’t relent, even when she shoots him a quick look, smirking, pushing her into another orgasm with his fingers pressing hard against the spongy muscle inside of her.
“Frank…” She thrashes against him, but he holds her down and close. “I don’t think…”
“Shh,” he whispers against her temple, pressing in a little harder, using his entire hand. “You woke up. You have to do this for me.”
“But—”
“You’re going to come again on my fingers, Mel,” he says firmly, matching his fingers even as the angle starts to hurt his wrist. “I know what’s best for you, right?”
Mel doesn’t answer, her eyes wide on his. “Frank…”
“Tell me.”
“I—” Her voice stutters, and he can feel her squeezing him harder. Right on the edge, once again. “You know best, but…” He kisses her silent, circling her clit as she tries to move away. He nips at her lip, pulling it with his teeth before letting go. Mel whimpers. “Frank, I don't think—I can’t—”
“Yes you can, sweetheart,” he says firmly. He can feel her fluttering around him. “Give me another.”
“No, no, nonono—” She comes beautiful, shaking apart, and Frank gently kisses her forehead. He keeps pumping his fingers as she comes down, wincing and squirming.
“One more, baby,” he whispers into her temple. She whimpers. “For me? I know you can, you’re such a good girl.” Her whimper turns into a moan as he presses upwards. “Look at me.”
Struggling to open her eyes, Mel shakes her head. With the hand tucked under her neck, he forces her to face him. His fingers stop, stuffing her fully, and Mel keens when she finally looks at him. “One more, and you’re going to look at me when you come, okay?” Her gaze wavers, like she can’t believe she can, and Frank can’t have that. “I know you can, Mel. I got you.”
He starts with a firm circle on her clit, which makes her mouth open and eyes flicker close. But she immediately opens them again, the flush on her face bright red, and Frank smiles in awe. Mel’s moans are louder, her curses less unbidden. She nods when he rests his forehead against her own.
“That’s it, right there, I know it’s hard, but I know you can take it. Look at me, I got you, no one else makes you feel like this, do they?” Mel shakes her head, eyes on him, completely glazed over. She’s floating and he’s her anchor, and when he presses his three fingers against that special spot inside of her, she screams his name, hazel eyes stuck on his and he’s never felt his heart in someone else’s chest.
Slowly, he disentangles them, wiping her tears and leaving soft kisses on her hair. He catalogues her ticks and her movements; she’s overwhelmed, but not overstimulated. Her hands twist for a moment together, before one lands on his hand, stroking it instead. She tugs once and Frank adjusts to lie on top of her, her own weighted blanket, head on her chest. Her free hand starts to play with his hair as her breathing levels out.
“Good morning,” she says, many minutes later. She kisses his hand. “Wow.”
He rises, hovering, searching her face. “You okay?” She nods, biting her lip. “There’s water on the nightstand. I’m going to start a shower for us, join me when you’re ready?”
Mel squeezes his hand. “Thank you.” She avoids his gaze, but doesn’t let go of his hand until she has to, grabbing the water, so Frank takes that as a good sign.
Slowly, he peels himself away from her. Something feels tentative and new about this morning—not just another item checked off their lists, but something altered and rearranged. Mel is careful as she sips her water, playing with the hem of the shirt he never took off her, but still not looking at him. For a moment, he worries she’s dissociating, that she wanted to stop but couldn’t…
But then Mel exhales. “Go.”
Permission. Frank doesn’t need it, but it finally feels like the right thing to do when he dips into their bathroom to make sure the water heats up as he prepares to clean off his girl.