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The sound of the running water gets drowned out by the laughs of you and your husband. In the shower together, your eyes are on Frankie who’s laughing so hard his eyes are practically scrunched shut. The sight alone has you laughing with him. His hands are at your head, smooshing your shampooed hair between his large hands and pulling it upwards until he’s successful in forming a sudsy mohawk. With shampoo not being the choice for such a hairstyle, it’s half folding over but it’s still enough to amuse your husband to no end.
“Rockstar!” Frankie grins.
“You’re so easily amused,” you laugh at his joy over it all, then you throw up the horns hand sign with a stuck-out tongue to add, in true Rock N’ Roll fashion, and Frankie’s hands clap together as he laughs even harder with his head leaned back. When he straightens up, amusement still chuckling its way out of him, his hands glide up your neck until your jaw is nestled in his hold, “I fucking love you,” he says through a smile before kissing you.
His touch leaves shampoo behind on your jaw, “Bubble beard,” he snorts, then wipes your skin clear but before he can rinse his hands, you grab his wrists and bring his soapy fingertips to his facial hair where he lets you move his hands to rub it in. He blows his cheeks out to make it a little difficult and it’s so silly, it has you laughing. You quickly peck his lips then turn to pour some shampoo in your own hands. Facing him again, you reach up to his head and are more successful in forming a mohawk on his head thanks to his shorter hair.
Frankie turns his head from one side to the other, “Does it look good? It feels good.”
“You definitely have the better hair for it, baby. Put a guitar in your hands and a studded leather jacket on your shoulders – the ladies will be throwing themselves at you,” you wink.
His arms slip around your waist and pull you close until your breasts are pressed against his firm chest, “I only want one lady throwing herself at me.”
“Should I give her a call?” you slide your hands along his shoulders before curling your arms around his neck.
Large hands grab the cheeks of your ass as he shakes his head, “Better not. Her husband may answer and he can be pretty protective,” his lips brush your forehead.
You give an interested look, “Oh yeah? This husband have a name? I love protective men.”
“Mr. Girasol,” Frankie answers seriously which only makes it that much funnier. He only lasts two seconds before his face breaks into a big smile and you’re barking out a laugh. He steals a sweet kiss from you before you step back and start rinsing the shampoo out of your hair.
“Who am I?” Frankie asks and waits until you look his way. When you do, he holds his fist near his mouth like a microphone and starts singing, “I recall Central Park in fall. How you tore your dress.”
The shampoo mohawk, plus the song choice has you instantly smiling – plus his singing voice is pretty lovely even if he doesn’t think so – and the answer you give makes it clear you know.
“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
The smile on his face is more than just humor this time, there’s a fondness there as he steps back into you, “Such a brain on you, Mrs. Morales,” his arms moving back around you.
You sweetly smooth your palms up the small curves of his toned biceps, along his broad shoulders, and back down again, repeating the familiar path, “Sing a little more, baby – please,” and you give a little squeeze of his arms.
Frankie’s cheeks pinken, but he also would do anything for you, so with a soft smile that weakens your knees, he first kisses you something so tender, then looks in your eyes as he quietly sings the next part of the song, “Danke schoen, darling, danke Schoen. Thank you for walks down Lover's Lane. I can see hearts carved on a tree. Letters intertwined for all time. Yours and mine, that was fine.”
Your arms slip around his neck and as Frankie sings, you don’t even realize that your pressed hips are swaying the tiniest bit as if trying to dance together in the small space of the shower.
“Thank you,” you hum as you press a few soft kisses to his neck, nuzzling his wet skin in between each one. Frankie’s hands glide along your spine, dipping lower as he tenderly grips and kneads the cheeks of your ass. The subtle twitch of his cock against the coarse hair between your thighs tickles as your lips work to mark your husband.
Frankie sounds breathless as he weakly reminds you, “The agreement we made on no sex in here is awfully hard to make good on when your mouth feels so damn good on me,” his hands now squeezing your hips in a try of self-control.
Though you hear him, you’re not done just yet. Your fingers massage against his wet scalp as your tongue laves at the spot you’re focused on, before your teeth nip and your lips get back to work. Frankie’s fingertips dig into your hips as pulls them tight against his own, holding you there. The sound from his throat lets you know just how much he’s enjoying this.
When you’re satisfied, you press a kiss over the now darkening spot and kiss his shoulder, “Sorry. I got carried away,” you lean back to look at him, “Love making you feel good, baby,” a cute grin sitting on your face.
His large hands release your hips to instead skim along your lower back, hugging you to him as you accept an eager kiss from him. His thick cock has stiffened its way between your bodies, definitely caused by your actions. With the girls asleep, you both agreed no sex in the shower to keep it short should they wake up and need their parents for something. But getting him off shouldn’t take as long.
There’s a sharp intake of air as your hand wraps around his twitching cock.
“So, let me keep making you feel good,” your lips brush the corner of his drenched mustache, before lingering there as you begin to stroke the whole length of him. His lips capture yours greedily, tongue gliding with yours as you pump him below. A slight twist of your wrist like you know he loves, squeezing gently enough as you go to send his nerves even hotter on fire.
The kiss breaks abruptly as he leans his forehead to yours, groaning with pleasure with his eyes closed. It’s so incredibly hot to see him like this. Under your control and in deep pleasure from the way you know his body so well.
“God, fuck,” he groans, managing to lift his head to instead look down at the way you handle him. His hands come up to cup your breasts, closing his fingers around them as he softly grabs at them – his eyes never looking away at your hand on his dick. When he does look into your eyes again, it’s to praise you.
“Girasol, baby, look how fucking good you are at handling me. Fuckin’ Christ,” he grits his teeth with a deep moan, “You’re fucking unbelievable,” he praises, sloppily stealing another kiss from you before looking down again. Your slender fingers wrapped around his heavy girth, rapidly gliding up the veiny shaft and back down.
He slightly stumbles when your other hand reaches out to fondle his balls.
“Fuck!” he cries out in pleasure, head falling back as his hand reaches out to the tiled wall to steady himself.
A cocky smile on your face, you nip at his clavicle, “Frank, kiss me, baby,” you request as you keep working him over. Instantly, his hands grasp your face and he kisses you with a deep-seated hunger. His jaw tightens so you know – his lips stay parted but still pressed to yours as a deep, velvety groan comes out of him while ropes of his spend cover your tits.
Your lips close over the top lip of his opened mouth, giving weak kisses as you speak to him, “That’s so good, baby. All over me, just like that, amor, yes.”
When he finishes, you peck another kiss to the corner of his opened mouth then bring your hand up, sucking the cum from between your thumb and forefinger. Frankie’s arm cinches to your waist and through heavy breaths, he presses his lips to your temple. His hand comes to take a hold of your chin and tips your face back to press a delicious kiss to your waiting lips.
“Loophole to the agreement?” he asks with a breath of humor.
A nod with a smile before he kisses you again.
“It’s only right, I help clean you up,” he winks then runs his hands over your breasts way more than he needs to in order to clean his own cum off your skin. Laughing, you run your fingers through his hair before skimming them down his hairy jaw.
As soon as you’re clean, he’s pressing his smile against yours, giving you several kisses. When you feel his hand start to snake down towards your cunt, you catch his wrist. A tiny shake of your head, “Just want to make out with you,” you mumble against his lips. Always respectful, Frankie then puts his focus into kissing you with such passion that it leaves you lightheaded. It’s exactly what you want and hits so good.
“You sure that’s all you want?” he double-checks as he kisses your jaw.
“Mm-hm,” you confirm, drawing his chin back to you as he happily kisses you some more.
The two of you finally focus enough to finish washing up, then exit the shower where Frankie grabs the top towel of the stack of two you put on the toilet seat lid and wraps it around you. He playfully rubs the corner of it down your nose before pressing a kiss there. Leaving you to it, he grabs the second one for himself.
With your head tilted, you grip the towel around the length of your soaking wet hair to get the excess out while Frankie wipes the towel along his body, including rubbing it along his head and facial hair.
As you then start to dry your body, Frankie stands next to you and looks in the mirror over the sink. He tilts his head back, with his eyes on his nose, then leans in closer. Using his facial muscles to pull his top lip over his teeth, he moves his head side to side before straightening up.
“Girasol, be honest. Do I need to trim?” he looks at you and gestures to his nose. You look at him head on and keep your gaze on his nostrils. Narrowing your gaze and dipping your head down a bit to make sure you see it from every light angle. Sure enough, there’s a few stray hairs making themselves known.
“At least two on the right, and one on the left.”
“Damn it,” he groans, “Thank you,” he then pulls the mirror, opening it up to reveal the medicine cabinet behind it. There sits the nose hair trimmer he secretly bought himself from Amazon and tried to hide from you the day it got delivered.
He drapes his towel over his shoulder and as you walk by, he gives your bare ass a playful smack at the same time you pass a little gas. The quick little toot has you and your husband erupt into laughter. Almost simultaneously, you drop to your knees in semi-embarrassment while Frankie drops the nose hair trimmer into the sink and leans on the edge before slowly dropping to his ass on the bathroom floor, clutching his stomach.
Through the laughter, he manages to squeeze out, “That could not have been timed any better!”
You roll onto your back, completely nude, laughing up towards the ceiling, “That was so not on purpose! It came out of nowhere. God, I hate this,” you choke out between your laughter. That last bit only makes Frankie laugh harder. When you lift your head and see him, it only sets you off more too.
The two of you, completely naked, on the floor laughing at a fart.
Wiping tears from your eyes, you stand back up and wrap the towel around your body, as you walk over to Frankie who’s sitting up now, tears in his own eyes.
Frankie looks up at you, “Want me to smack it again? Get it all out?”
“I will pluck your nose hairs out one by one,” you point at him with simmering laughter. Frankie barks out another laugh at your threat, as he stands up, too.
“It was so cute, though. Sounded like one of Vivi’s,” he reveals while his laughter simmers down to chuckles. Then he reaches out and grips your towel, pulling you closer, “Dame un beso,” he chuckles out his request. (Give me a kiss).
Still smiling yourself at the whole thing, you give him several soft kisses before he steals a long one from you.
The two of you then continue with your original plans. Frankie trims his nose hairs, while you pull on a pair of panties and one of Frankie’s threadbare t-shirts that now serve as one of your night shirts. When he’s done, he walks over to his own dresser to put on a pair of black boxer briefs and an old rock band t-shirt.
“Baby, come in here,” you call to him from the ensuite.
Scratching at his facial hair, he walks to the doorway and sees a smile on your face as if you’re trying to be innocent.
“…what?” he asks cautiously.
From behind your back, you hold up a little jar of something, “Will you do a face mask with me?”
Maybe some other guy would recoil at the idea or get annoyed for his girl asking. Not Frankie. Every moment with you is something he enjoys and something he knows how lucky he is to have after the things he’s been through in his life.
His mouth curves into the softest grin, “I’d love to.”
The adorable smile of victory on your face makes it already worth it. Frankie leans his ass on the sink’s edge and holds the opened jar out for you. The shower has his hair already slicked back, so you get right to work. You dip your fingers into the green cream and start spreading it along his forehead.
Frankie’s seen you use this stuff before – kisses rendered to quick pecks with your lips puckered out. That’s all he knows about it.
“What does this stuff do?”
“Cuts down the oils on your skin so you don’t look shiny. Helps tighten pores and wrinkles.”
His eyes stay on your beautiful face as you concentrate on where you smear the cream on his skin, “You know you don’t need this stuff, right? You’re so damn gorgeous, honey.”
He sees you raise a brow in skepticism, “Probably because I use this.”
This time his fingers tenderly grasp your chin so your eyes draw to his, “No,” he reaffirms, “I’ve known you before this stuff. You’re as gorgeous as you’ve always been.”
It definitely makes your chest ache at how much your husband adores you. Softly, “Thank you,” and you continue to spread it across his cheeks and down his nose.
Then he feels your fingers in a single spot on his jaw, “Are you putting it on my bald patches?”
“Yes,” you giggle, filling in the spaces in his beard that refuse to grow. Frankie can’t help but chuckle as he continues to hold the open jar up for you.
“Done. Okay, do me,” you take the jar as he stands up.
“I’ll do you, alright,” he answers with a smirk and a wink. Shaking your head with a quick laugh, you switch spots with him.
Frankie is incredibly gentle as he spreads the cream along your face. He presses just enough to spread the cream without feeling like he’s pushing into your skin. There’s the cutest, smallest grin on his face as he gets to be so close to you, admiring your beauty, as he applies the mask.
“Why do you look so damn cute doing this?” you ask with faux annoyance.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he answers as he continues, truly not understanding.
“This may have been a bad idea,” you give a tiny groan, “I really want to kiss you. And not a measly peck.”
This time a real smile breaks open on his face, “I got you. Hold on,” he finishes up with your mask and quickly washes off his hands before drying them on the towel hanging behind him. When he turns back to you, his hands fit to your neck and he pushes his thumbs against the underside of your jaw to keep you still. With a little more carefulness than normal, he slots his lips over yours to avoid where the mask sits above your lip. Two sweet kisses in succession he gives you before he pulls away.
“Good?” he asks, his thumbs caressing the delicate skin under your chin.
“It’ll have to be,” you respond with a fast peck. Your hands reach up to grasp his wrists and pull them down to your hips, “Also, the mask is going to start hardening in about 10 minutes or so, so it’ll feel a little tight.”
“Can’t wait,” he answers with no excitement which only makes you giggle.
Frankie takes your hand and walks back into the bedroom, “We still have that leftover Chinese, right?” he turns his head towards you.
Catching on, you nod, “And we have the season finale of Abbott Elementary to still watch,” you remind him, adding to the plans.
“Grab the baby monitor, amor, and let’s get to it,” he excitedly instructs, releasing your hand to let you grab it. Once you do, he’s slowly opening the bedroom door as the girls’ closed bedroom door sits only a couple feet away. Quietly, you both practically tiptoe past it towards the living room. As you walk across the corner of the living room rug, you practically jump out of your skin when pain erupts from the bottom of your foot. Clamping your mouth shut to not wake the girls, your throat is rumbling out a groan of pain as you start hopping. Frankie quickly looks to you and hooks an arm around your waist, looking down at the floor. There, hidden in the rug, is a plastic accessory from one of Vivi’s dolls that of course has to have some pointy plastic. Frankie kicks it further away where no one else can step on it and slips his arm under your legs, carrying you into the kitchen.
“Fuck! That really hurt!” you quietly exclaim now that you’re further away from the girls’ room. He seats you on the counter and lifts the pained foot, rubbing the sole of it to soothe you. Thumping your head against the cabinet behind you, you bite your lip as the pain finally starts to ease with Frankie’s magic hands. As your shoulders start to relax, he knows it’s working, so he lifts your foot up and places a kiss to the bottom of it.
It's the cutest thing and you can’t fight the grin on your face, “I love you.”
“Love you too, mi vida,” he replies adoringly, “How’s it feel?” he’s still massaging it gently.
“Better because of you. Thank you, honey,” you kiss the air in his direction. But he gives you a look of “You’ve gotta be joking”, then steps between your legs, “A real one,” he says before he pecks your lips. He then incredibly gently pulls some flyaway hairs from your hardening mask that found their way in during your hasty movements.
With his adorable grin and a squeeze to your thigh, he takes a step back and puts his hand out to you. Slipping your palm along his, his fingers curl around yours as he holds your hand while you hop off the counter. You feel him kiss the side of your head as his hand then smooths across your panty-clad ass before he walks over the fridge.
As he opens the fridge door, he lets out a small burp then proceeds to lean down to grab the leftovers. Walking over, you take each container of Chinese food he holds out to you so you can place it on the counter. You hear the thud of the fridge closing and he joins you at the counter as you open the containers to see what you have left.
“Dumplings. Lo Mein. Kung Pao Chicken.”
Frankie grabs some left over chopsticks and a bowl. He scoops some of his Kung Pao into the bowl and throws all four dumplings on top before putting it into the microwave. The second pair of chopsticks got slid to you as you happily peel them out of their paper wrapper and dig into the cold lo mein.
Your husband helps himself to the container in your hands with his own sticks and slurps the end of a noodle into his mouth.
“Baby, what do you wanna drink?” he asks, pulling the fridge back open.
Licking the tip of your chopsticks in thought, “Hmmm…” then pointing them at him, “Diet coke, please.”
Leaning down, “That sounds pretty good actually,” and he stands up with two cans in one of his large hands, using his elbow to push the door shut. The beep of the microwave ending sounds three times and Frankie’s grabbing his freshly re-heated food. Knowing his wife so well, he then grabs two of the now heated dumplings and drops them into your container of cold lo mein, earning himself one of your beautiful smiles.
“This is why I love you,” you happily hum and give a little wiggle of excitement. Cinching the dumpling between your chopsticks, you blow a little on it before taking a small bite due to the heat. Frankie smiles as he takes a full bite of his Kung Pao.
With his bowl in one hand, he snatches up the two soda cans in his other and you lead the way into the living room where all the food gets placed on the table.
“Tell me it’s time to wash this off because my face is tight and I have an itch on my nose,” he pleads to you.
A nod with a small laugh, “It’s time. Let’s go.” Frankie grabs your hand and quickly heads back into the bedroom to the ensuite. Grabbing a washcloth from the shelf, he gets the cloth soaking wet and scrubs off the hardened cream from his skin. When he’s finished and drying his face with the towel hanging up, you clean your face off next.
“Moisturizer, Frank,” you point to the blue jar on the corner of the sink, before pressing the towel to your face and drying your skin. When you turn around, you find your husband with a too big glob of moisturizer and looking at it like it’s an alien lifeform. Laughing, you hold his wrist and take half of the glob for yourself, spreading it along your face which he watches what you do for a second then does the same.
Palms up, you turn to him with a smile, “All done. Doesn’t it feel refreshing?”
“Feels wet,” he shrugs.
“You have to rub it in more,” you laugh, taking over and gently massaging the moisturizer more into his skin. His hands curve to your hips and smooth to your back until his arms circle your waist.
When you’re sure there should be no more wet feeling, you give a tiny nod, “There.”
Frankie’s large hands glide to your back, spreading his fingers wide before he brings them to cup your face, “Finally,” he breathes before his lips capture yours in a deep, passionate kiss that he’s been waiting to give you since you put the mask on him.
The kiss is instantly returned as your lips move tenderly with his. Your hands slip under the hem of his shirt and trail up along his firm sides before bringing them to his back where your nails give gentle scratches as your lips grow swollen from his loving mouth.
When you feel his tongue touch your lips, they eagerly open in invitation and take him in. His thumbs sweetly caress your cheeks as his kisses melt your entire being.
It’s unclear how much time has passed because it always feels like it stands still whenever you and your husband make out, but eventually Frankie’s kisses grow slower and more tender until he’s looking into your eyes between sweet, soft pecks of love until you’re both no longer breathless.
You hug yourself to him, pressing a kiss to his throat, “I love kissing you.”
Strong arms anchor you to his body, his cheek pressed to your head as a hand rubs your back, “One of my favorite things to do,” he kisses your temple.
The grin on your face tickles his neck as your face stays pressed to his skin. Lifting your head, you look at him and take his chin in your hold, leaving him with one more incredible kiss before you’re taking a handful of his t-shirt and leading him to follow you back into the living room.
Once at the couch, the two of you settle in as you usually do. Your shoulders pressed together as Frankie leans back, legs spread, and you snuggle against him, one knee pulled up as you both hold your leftovers. Frankie gets the episode up from the DVR and hits Play.
Between laughter at the scenes on screen, you two share your food. Frankie drops a few pieces of his chicken into your container and you pick up some lo mein with your chopsticks, holding it up for him to collect it in his wide, open mouth.
Stolen glances his way have you noticing and wiping at stray flecks of sauce that land on his facial hair. And when you feel a piece of chicken in your teeth, you ask him for confirmation with teeth bared. Frankie nods, “I got it, honey,” and he uses his fingernail to snag it for you, simply wiping his nail on his napkin before leaving you with a cute kiss.
With bellies full and one of your favorite shows finished, it’s usually when you’d snuggle more into one another. But this time, Frankie picks his phone up from the coffee table and starts concentrating on it. It’s unlike him to get distracted by his phone when you both are alone like this, so you assume maybe one of the guys texted him something important. You stick to your own space as you mindlessly flip channels to find something else to watch now.
Frankie’s hand suddenly covers the remote in yours and you look at him to see him gently take it from your grasp and shut the tv off before placing it on the table. Confused at his action, “You want to go to bed already?”
A slow shake of his head and then the beginnings of a smile on his face, “Not at all.” You watch as he stands up and puts his hand out to you which you take with a curiosity. Standing up with him, Frankie places his phone back on the table, but not before touching the screen causing music to flow from it.
Tears can’t help but prick at your eyes when you hear the song he chose. The song that came on the radio last week and Frankie shared that it makes him think of you. A song about someone being grateful for the special person in their life who brings them comfort and support.
Frankie gives a sweet brush of his knuckle against your jaw before lifting your joined hands to slowly twirl you. His arm slips around your waist and brings you to his chest, “Mi vida, dance with me?”
“Always, amor,” you smile beautifully.
There in the living room of the home you’ve made a life in together, dressed in threadbare t-shirts and underwear, your husband slow dances with you into the night.