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As you looked down at Frank, laying fully displayed on the bed, every mark and tattoo exposed, you began to wonder how often this crossed his mind. Not sex itself, but whining in submission the way you typically did, taking your place with shocking ease. You weren’t opposed, flushed and turned on at the sound of his mumbled pleas and the way he squirmed against the mattress. Now that you thought about it, you weren’t sure how you got here, kneeling above him, a single hand wrapped around his cock, a bottle of lube next to you, and a strap-on patiently waiting at the edge of the bed.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it; as often as he had you on your knees, begging to suck him off, or splayed out before him, pleading to be pounded into the mattress, you had always wondered what it would be like to switch places. You knew he had been with guys before–he’d told you about a few one-night stands, casually mentioning how he had taken men bigger than him, and he had nothing to be ashamed of. He seemed proud of it but never asked you to fuck him. In fact, you weren’t sure he had even thought about it until you asked him one night, when the two of you were far past tipsy, spilling secrets and tequila until it came out.
Following the request–a blunt “I want to peg you,” –came a giggle and a nonchalant, “Alright.” No matter how drunk you had gotten, both of you still vividly remembered the interaction in the morning, releasing a major admission on Frank’s behalf, reddening as he confessed to having fantasized about it before. You got far more than you bargained for when the time finally came, but there was no way in hell you were complaining.
Seeing Frank so submissive was like a dream come true, blessing your mind as you watched him beg for you. Sure, you loved when he was in charge, spewing nearly every dirty thought that came to mind, ordering you around, and insisting that you took what he gave you. However , you grew prideful beyond imagination at the thought of doing the same to him, yearning for the sound of his cries to come until you finally gave him sweet relief.
“What do you want?” you asked, jerking him at an agonizingly slow pace, watching his eyes screw shut as you swept your thumb across the tip, his hips already bucking up for more.
He groaned as you pulled away, giving him a look of sheer disapproval. “I want you to fuck me already.”
His voice was high and whiny, vastly different from his usual tone, and it made desire stir inside you. Regardless, you weren’t sure that it was time yet, dragging out the experience as long as possible, holding his cock once more, slick with lube and precum.
“Do you think you deserve it?” you hummed questioningly, listening to his strangled gasp as you began pumping your hand again.
“ Fuck, yes ,” he moaned out, reaching towards you, only to get his hands slapped away.
You glowered at him, “ Behave .”
Your voice just about knocked him dead, and he was back to bucking his hips up in desperation. “C’mon, please ,” Frank pleaded, gripping the sheets to avoid grabbing at you again. “ Please , I’ve been good, I swear.”
That was a damn lie and he knew it, but he couldn’t have cared less, hoping that you’d pity him enough to quit the teasing and fill him up already. He had no control though, left to lie beneath you , who had all the power in the world at the moment. Graciously, you pulled away, kneeling over him and pressing your lips against his, hot and wet, parting them easily with your tongue. Call it placebo, but you could practically taste his neediness, not to mention feel it, Frank still grinding against you.
It was oddly intimate, the way your hand slipped around his throat, holding him close as you pulled away, your lips barely grazing his as he caught his breath. Your patience for him was wearing thin, especially when his hands trailed back to your hips.
Squeezing his throat ever so slightly, you narrowed your eyes at him. “Being a fucking whore isn’t an excuse to act like a brat.”
If you had to fuck him into submission, you would, and it seemed like the way to go judging by the moan that rumbled in his chest at your scolding. Frank wasn’t used to seeing you like this either, and the effect it had on him was dizzying. Despite his rebellion, he was more than ready to be good for you if he got what he wanted; luckily, you believed in compromise.
“On your knees,” you demanded, watching as he turned over, showing off more tattoos , specifically the ones that wrapped prettily around his hips.
His compliance was almost surprising, Frank lying placidly on the bed as you reached for his hips, one hand planted on his back as you pushed him down against the mattress, the other pressed against his abdomen to hold his hips in the air. The view before you was the closest to heaven you’d ever get, his wanton whining a hymn as your nails dug into his skin.
Grabbing the previously discarded lube from the side of the bed, you squeezed a fair amount onto your fingertips, almost asking Frank if he was sure, but the way he wiggled impatiently proved that he had waited long enough. There wasn’t an immediate reaction as you sunk your fingers inside of him–relief, at first, followed by a soft gasp. He stayed quiet at first, a few whiny moans dripping from his lips until you pushed further, deeper , releasing a louder cry from him.
“ More, ” he moaned, face buried in the pillows, grinding desperately against the mattress as if you weren’t already knuckle-deep inside of him.
Instead, you slowed, glaring at him again, even though he couldn’t see your face. “Stop moving,” you said, giving him a gentle smack in warning, and running your palm over his skin.
Reluctantly, he listened, not without another whimper though, clenching his teeth and gripping the sheets even tighter. His vulnerability made your stomach twist in knots, arousal coating your thighs as his muffled begging floated through the air. The more time you spent prepping him, the more impatient he got, growing increasingly loud as you took your time, inadvertently cutting off your train of thought.
It wasn’t until he began thrusting back into your hand, pushing himself against you that you gave in, feigning annoyance as he slurred a mix of deeper and please . Nimble fingers only went so far, and if he insisted on being stuffed full, that’s what you’d give him. For the amount of begging he was doing, he was getting awfully close, his breathing taking on the same pattern that it typically did, quick and erratic. The pressure of your fingers had him leaning over the edge, so close to a blissful release, that if you curled your fingers once more he’d come crashing down. Mhm, just a little bit more–
But no. There was no chance you were letting him off that easy, not after he whined endlessly for you to fuck him. Frank cried out as you pulled away, your fingers slipping out and retreating to his hips, your free hand tangling in his hair to tug him away from the pillows.
“I don’t think you’ve been behaving,” you chided, receiving nothing more than a whimper in response. “Give me one good reason why I should fuck you.”
Frank was positive you had broken him, every thought leaving his head, his lips incapable of forming words that weren’t “ please .” Even at that, he couldn’t form a full sentence with it, broken parts of a pathetic plea scattered in every corner of his mind.
By the grace of god, he managed to mumble out a white lie, “I’ll be good, please .”
“Bullshit,” you scoffed. “ Good boys are patient, and do what they’re told. You haven’t done either of those, have you?”
He had half a mind to argue with you, the taste of his orgasm already slipping away, so groveling was the way to go. “I’m sorry, I’ll listen, I’ll do whatever you want, ‘kay?”
It was tempting, and you were growing impatient yourself, more than ready for the slew of sounds you’d get to hear from him. With a loud sigh, you dropped him back down into the pillows, relief washing over him as you inched towards the edge of the bed, anxiously grabbing the harness, reality seeming to set in as you pulled it on, smearing the cool lube across the silicone while Frank squirmed restlessly before you.
“You sure?” you asked, kneeling behind him once more, tracing the pistols on his lower back before getting a firm grip on his hips.
“ Yes ,” he answered, a bit too quick, but you weren’t one to judge, anxiety melting away and swiftly replaced by your former air of dominance.
Tugging his hips closer, you pushed in, slowly until you heard him breathe again. The moan he let out was something holy, pent up and buried beneath layers of anticipation, a sweet combination of gratitude and pleasure, sending satisfaction rippling through you.
“God, you’re so fucking pretty,” you murmured, gradually inching closer until your hips are just shy of meeting his, running your hands along his skin, painted with inky scripture. “Wish you could see yourself, baby.”
It’s music to Frank’s ears, foreign praise convincing him to behave, his former bratty attitude wearing down, replaced by a willingness to comply. “Please move,” he requested, magic words lacing nearly every sentence he spoke.
His sudden obedience sent a surge of power through you, and a sense of desperation similar to his own. All you wanted was to pull every sinful sound from him, watching him fall apart beneath you as he cried your name, to feel pride swell in your chest until it left you suffocated and starry-eyed.
After a moment of consideration, you pulled back a little, easing in a bit quicker this time, causing a moan to bubble up in Frank’s throat. You pushed closer, skin meeting skin until it triggered something , you weren’t sure what, but it made him give a sudden cry, one that would’ve been concerning had he not followed it up with, “Again.”
From there, you began to get a handle on things, slowly picking up the pace as you thrust into him, controlling his movements until he couldn’t take it anymore, until he was pushing his hips back against yours and slurring into the pillow.
“Don’t. Move.”
Your tone was sharp, warning him sternly, but he could only respond with a pathetic mewl, tugging at the sheets as if they held the secret to self-control. Spoiler: they didn’t, and Frank resorted to grinding against the bed, unable to stop himself until you threaten to pull away. Defeat blanketed him from there, giving up and lying helplessly on the mattress, diminished to nothing but a whimpering mess as you continued to pound your hips against his.
He wasn’t sure what he was saying as he climbed closer to an orgasm, and neither were you, honestly. Not a single sound was distinguishable, Frank no longer rambling on about how bad he needed it, but instead babbling incoherently as if his brain had turned to mush. Which, if you asked him, it totally had.
Your hips and thighs were growing tired, the only motivation left being Frank’s whining, and between his heaving chest and incomprehensibility, you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. You savored the sight of him, buried into the mattress, knees weak and arms by his head, squeezing the curve of his waist while he choked out sobs.
“Are you gonna come?” you asked him, your voice carrying an antagonizing edge, and Christ, he could barely hold back any longer.
Cursing, he found the strength to form words. “Fuck, please let me come. ”
“Do you think you deserve it?”
He might’ve had the strength to answer last time, but holding a conversation while you fucked him stupid was a next-level task. Regardless, he put in the effort, nodding fruitlessly against the bed. “Mhm, I’ve been good, I swear.”
Liar, you thought, but you had to give him credit for trying , even if he wasn’t very good at it. There was plenty of time in the future to work on it, but tonight you’d put it to rest. “You like when I fuck you like this?”
He hummed, once again losing the ability to string words together. With an ego the size of the moon, you pulled him closer than ever, burying far deeper than before until he was teetering on the edge of euphoria. “Show me how much you like it.”
Frank gave in easily after that, crashing into his release, practically seeing stars as you gently ground your hips against his. The whole world had seemingly come to a stop, the floor falling out beneath him as he continued to lay face down, leaving him exhausted and speechless. He wasn’t sure what you were saying to him anymore, having little grip on reality as he finally rolled over, grinning lazily at you.
Sweaty strands of hair clung to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with a light shade of pink that had slowly spread across his chest, and his hazel eyes blinked back at you, waiting for instruction on what to do next. After a tiresome and lousy clean-up, you crashed next to him, hardly able to strip back down to nothing before exhaustion really kicked in. By then, Frank had perked up a bit more, looking at you curiously through droopy eyes.
“You didn’t–” he started, cut off by a yawn, and then a quick kiss.
“Don’t worry about it, alright? I’m sure you’ll find a way to repay me,” you smiled, sweeping hair from his eyes as he rolled over to you, curling up against your side.
In a voice already thick with sleep, he mumbled quietly to you. “Thank you.”
That’s all he could really say anymore, too tired for anything other than tender kisses and cuddles, his gratitude shining through as he held you close, vulnerability yet to fade away. He still felt like he should say something, explain himself, or apologize–he didn’t know why , but something still felt off.
“You can do both, you know,” you mumbled to him, kissing his head as he buried himself in your chest.
Frank hummed in question, the vibrations tickling your skin as you spoke. “I mean, we can take turns if you want. That’s okay.”
He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something missing; the sex was amazing, but sometimes he thought back to nights when someone else took over, when he could let his guard down.
“Really?” he whispered, too anxious to speak any louder as if you’d laugh and take it back.
“Really,” you smiled, saving the rest of the conversation for tomorrow. At least for now Frank could be at peace, the hint of shame disintegrating as he let his eyes fall shut, embracing the afterglow as he drifted off to sleep.