⊝ 🫀 Rafael

frank comes homes from an awful day at work and you have a healthy rule going- don’t take it out on eachother. tonight, he comes in the front door and it was obviously, impossibly hell. He’s half-drained/half-pent up and on such thin ice it’s practically shaved. so you decide the rule can quit it, for a night at least.

you suggest dinner, he rejects it. you suggest a movie, he accepts it. he’s almost boiled over with anger, you can see it brimming in him. so when you’re sprawled out on the couch, you kick at his thigh, harsh. “what-what the fuck man?” You shrug once, then kick him again. He wraps a hand around your ankle and you smile like you’ve caught a prize winning carp. good fishing.

“Fucking quit that” and you shake your head. He mumbles something about keeping it together. but you butt in first, you whisper come on arching your leg up and high so he can see what you’re offering to help him out. He looks over you, worries his lip for a minute and shakes his head. You call him a fucking moron and he jumps you.

You’re lying on the floor of the living room, you arms folded under you and back arched as Frankie grabs at the dimples in your hips. He’s been like this before, heat of the moment, but this time he’s ravenous. Pounding into you to the point you can feel your insides move around him. He hits large palms over the rounds of your back, leans down and kisses wet trails up your spine. you tell him to take what he wants and he moans loud enough that the room around you vibrates.