more desperately than romantically

By the time they finally slept together, frenzied on her couch in the late afternoon, he could’ve written a novel filled with all of her quirks and habits, what made her laugh or wrinkle her nose.  And after that first time, when Frank proceeded to stay at her apartment the whole weekend, fucking her into her mattress, cooking for her in the cramped kitchen, Mel knew he was hers completely. 

“Mel, baby,” his voice is choked. 

“I just never found an opportunity to mention it. I promise, Frank, I didn’t mean to keep it from you!” Mel’s tone is placating but not wholly serious, as she knows he is far from angry – shell-shocked, if anything. She wiggles a little in place, settling herself more comfortably across his legs. 

“When did you–” 

“After my mom died.” It’s a little silly to talk about while she’s ass-up on her boyfriend’s lap, but she presses on, giving him the CliffsNotes. “She had a thing about good luck charms. There were horseshoes all around the house, that and rabbit’s feet – Becca liked those. My uncle kept horses, too. We would visit his barn in the summer and ride them.” 

“Just like your earrings,” he mumbles, and that makes her feel warm down to her toes. And then, finally, he’s touching her again, running his fingers delicately over the tattoo on her lower back, her small and dainty horseshoe. “It’s–” a pause as he palms her ass and squeezes, making her squeak. “It’s really sexy, Mel.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

Frank exhales, long and slow, moving to pull her panties down the rest of the way. He flings them unceremoniously to the other side of her bedroom, and they catch on the corner of her dresser, hanging. Before Mel can laugh, his large hand is between her legs. 

He was also really good at noticing things. Too good, Mel thought. At least in this moment, when she and Frank weren’t quite ready to share their relationship status with everyone just yet. Mel had no idea if Abbot actually knew what was going on, but she still felt like a teenager that got caught sneaking in through her bedroom window (she’d never in her life done that).

“Well, he’s a good teacher,” Mel said, trying to remain as casual as possible.

Abbot crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter. “Uh-huh. He is. But he doesn’t really…” He swirled his finger up and down in a gesture that had Mel feeling very confused.

So she was being very truthful when she said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means.”

Her stepfather stared at her for another long moment. “Uh-huh.” He let her off the hook, but Mel was sure she was going to hear about it later. “The rest of it is going well?”

Mel tried not to let her shoulders drop in relief, though she was sure it was written all over her face. “Yes, it’s fine.”

They talked about what interesting cases Mel had over the last two months, and how she liked working with Robby and Al-Hashimi. They were just talking about their plans to see Becca and go to brunch that weekend when the door to the break room swung open, bouncing back against the wall.

“Mel! I’ve got the perfect job for you. How’d you like to pick a thousand pieces of gravel out of a patient’s leg?”

At the mention of an interesting case, Mel perked up. “A thousand?” she asked.

Frank was already halfway across the room to her when he caught sight of Abbot. He slowed immediately, drawing up short. “Uh, yeah. Maybe give or take a hundred. Hey, Abbot.”

Abbot dipped his head. “Langdon.”

“So.” Frank cleared his throat and smiled at Mel, his eyes warm. He was totally going to give them away, but Mel didn’t care when he looked at her like that. “If you’re ready, I need you.”

“I’ll be right there,” Mel promised. Frank went back to the floor and she caught Abbot watching her. “What?”

Her brows pull together, lips tightening up. “Your text, last night,” she says, and moves closer, if that’s even possible. Until her chest brushes against his own and he becomes very aware of her breasts, held taut by a sports bra, thick straps barely visible on her shoulders beneath her plain t-shirt. “I sent you that picture of me at the bar, the one Samira took, and you said that you, quote, were “dying for a taste” and “ready to feast” .”

“Uh..” his jaw goes slack, utterly dumbfounded, now forced to face the consequences of his actions.

It was late, I was tired, I meant— no, he knew exactly what he was saying, that he’d been having heart palpitations over his coworker/best friend/trainee who was out drinking, looking all flushed like a spring cherry blossom and wearing a top that showed so much of what he never got to see at work. Or like, ever.

“I, um,” he swallows thickly, vision tunneled, not at all worried about anyone who may stumble upon them, solely focusing on Mel’s wiry lashes and frustrated, red tinted cheeks. “You looked.. really good. I was.. complimenting you.”

She isn’t convinced. “But that’s not what you said.”

“Right,” he’s a total fucking sleaze and here she is calling him out on it.

How truthful is he allowed to be right now? Can he say that he dreamt of her last night, with his back turned to his wife, and woke up with an insatiable urge so intense that it made him dizzy? Is he allowed to admit that he wished she’d called him for a ride home, and maybe let her hands wander during the drive? Invited him into her apartment, ignoring the evidence of a promise on his finger that he made to someone else? Can he?

The look on his face must say it all because Mel’s head tilts, and the left side of her mouth slowly turns up, satisfied. 

“I see,” she says. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” he rasps with a weak, pitiful nod. “Yes, absolutely, yes. Of course—”

Her eyes brighten, twinkling beneath the fluorescents. “Oh, that’s so good to hear,” she says, earnest and soft. “So, you’ll come over tonight, right?”

It takes all of Frank’s strength not to sink to the floor, to nuzzle against her navel and fucking sob. 

They didn’t set out to spend all this time together, but neither of them were interested in ending it. It was just past noon on Saturday, and Mel had no desire to leave. Frank clearly didn’t want her to, either. Mel wasn’t sure she had ever found someone she connected with so completely before, and she wanted to explore it as much as possible.

“You’re not imposing,” Frank told her, eyes soft. “I like spending time with you.”

It was an incredibly sweet sentiment, one that Mel wasn’t quite sure how to respond to. So she blurted, “And the sex is really good,” and then immediately wanted to throw herself out the window.

Yes, it was true, it was the best sex of her life. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come so many times. But she didn’t have to just say it to him like that.

Luckily for Mel, Frank gave her a slow smile. The stubble shadowing his jaw had grown in just a little bit more, and he was standing in front of her in just a pair of boxers after making her food. He looked good. Really good. Mel wondered what it would be like to feast on him.

“I’d have to agree,” Frank said. He took a step closer. “We need to eat. You should stop looking at me like that.”

“You need to stop looking at me like that!” Mel retorted with a grin. She was having so much fun with him.

Frank caught her by the waist just as Mel lifted her chin so she could kiss him. She sighed happily into his mouth and ran her hands up his chest. Frank slid one big hand down over her back until he was cupping her bottom, tilting her hips against his.