#gonefics

To the yellow of the flowers that decorated the notebook. The color wasn’t the cheap, harsh pastel you would see if it was bought at Target. It was warm, she traced the petals and it felt as though the curve burned itself into her finger, a warning, a premonition.

She brought it to her nose, expecting the perfect fresh car smell you get with leather and instead was met with Frank’s cologne. She smiled to herself, shaking her head.

“The little fucker,” she opens the cover, flipping the pages in a swift motion with her thumb, only to be bombarded with the smell of her husband. It felt as though he were in the small corner of their closet with her. “Never got me a gift like this.”

Her fingers catch onto indents in the front cover, her eyes hanging onto every word.

For my least problematic trainee and my very favorite doctor. You deserve the best Melissa King, I hope to provide you some of it.

Yours Truly,

F.L.

“Abby!”

“Yeah, coming, one sec!”

Frank thrusts deeper inside her, her nails digging deeper into the skin of his shoulders. 

His hand presses against the mirror, the other keeping her hips still on the sink beneath her.

Mel nods, the scruff of his beard scratching at her neck as she moans. He swallows it, kissing her suddenly, welcoming every sound from her throat into his mouth.

“You know,” he pulls back slightly, their foreheads stick together, slick with sweat. “When I told Abby,” he pushes back into Mel in tandem with his wife’s name, hoping the entire house heard her whining and begging for him to go faster. “To get that fucking karaoke machine for the party, uh, I did it for you, should’ve known you’d be a little brat about it.”

Mel tries to form a coherent string of words but her mind are with the treacherously slow circles Frank was making around her clit, the small kisses up her neck, the praises he breathed into her mouth as he told her his wife downstairs didn’t take him as well as she did.

He pulls her closer, wrapping her legs more tightly around him making sure she doesn’t back into the faucet, hurting herself. 

“Bet you did it on purpose.”

He covers Mel’s mouth with his hand the bathroom filled with her muffled moans and the sound of their skin slapping together. Keeping his other hand firmly at the small of her back he leans closer into her ear.

“Bet you wanted to make a mess on my cock with my wife downstairs. To fuck you in the same bathroom I share with her, you live for that, don’t you Mellie.” 

His hand goes from her mouth to the back of her head forcing it downwards to look between them.

“Answer me, Melissa.”

Mel clenches around him as he starts pumping into her faster, knowing she’s close, knowing he’s hitting her very favorite spot. 

“Yes, nngh, yes, please, I- I do.” She whimpers, desperate for release.

“Open your eyes, babygirl. Look at the mess you made.”

She stares, mouth open as her hips move to meet his, her head going back in relief as he finally lets her come, her back arching into him, his mouth going to hers drowning out her voice screaming his name.

—

She turns to her head to face him, still trapped in his strong-hold. Her hand goes up to intertwine with his hair at the base of his neck, pulling until he looks at her. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown from his run, flitting between her eyes and her lips. 

She stares as a small drop of sweat rolls down from his temple, to his chin dimple, and feels it fall down to her collarbone. 

“Why didn’t you come with me?” He presses a small kiss to her jaw.

“You know I hate running,” she just barely squeaks out as he moves along her jaw, moving to her cheekbone, pressing her tighter against his chest. 

“You much prefer to help me cool down,” he asks, tugging at her braid exposing her neck for him. 

She moans, silenced by his hand pressing at the base of neck as he sucks at her pulse, her legs becoming jelly, his arm still firmly placed at her waist, the only reason she isn’t a puddle on the floor. 

He chuckles as she squirms beneath him, trying to curve out of his arm and turn to face him, touch him. 

“Mellie,” he breathes into her mouth, “be good for me.” His heart swells as she goes instantly still and bites at the thumb he was now pressing into her mouth. He lets her pull his finger into her mouth deeper until her cheeks hollow causing an involuntary groan to escape from his throat. He drags his thumb down her chin, neck, leaving a trail of saliva all the way down to the valley of her breasts.

“I think I can help you cool down much better in the shower,” Mel blinks at him innocently and his laughter fills her ears, traveling all the way down to her core. 

Only if you pressed your ear against the pantry door could you hear the faintest of muffled whispers. Only if you forced a rowdy group of university students to be as quiet as mice could you hear the, Melissa, Professor Langdon sighed into her ear.

Mel’s hips lift as his thumb circles around her clit, his fingers pushing in and out of her folds, her pulse in her stomach as her pants quicken to short staccatos. Barely able to pull in a full breath, her head swimming with his proximity to her, the way he knew what she wanted, needed better than she ever could. 

“You’re soaked for me,” he breathes into her neck, her fingers curling into his hair, scratching at his scalp, pulling a groan from his throat. “I watched you the entire dinner, staring at Abby, you feel guilty, baby? Jealous?”

He sucks at the mole on her neck, a loud cry escaping her mouth as she rides his finger searching for more, begging him.

“I’m not jealous,” Mel persists, wondering how she was going to cover the painting of bruises he was leaving on either side of her neck. 

“You’re just getting some extra help from your favorite teacher, isn’t that right?”

She nods, pressing her lips together in effort to be quiet as he showers her with her very favorite praises. 

Most perfect girl.

Best attendance.

My least problematic student – that one always earns him a kiss, long, her mouth always moving slowly along his, her tongue tracing the shape of his lips. Her teeth tugging at his bottom lip, a groan reverberating down her spine. A small string of saliva between them as they break apart, exchanging the air between them, foreheads pressed together. 

His fingers quicken, pushing her closer and closer to the edge, her hips rutting up and down, her chest heaving. Until, finally, he presses at her clit letting her unravel beneath him.