Archive of Our Own

Frank’s first mistake was agreeing to after work drinks.

He doesn’t mind going out with them of course, not really. He likes his co-workers well enough, even Santos although they still rip into each other from time to time. Plus, most of his college days were spent in places like these-- hole-in-the-walls with perpetually sticky formica counters and peeling faux leather seats-- where the drinks were strong and, more importantly, cheap.

(Hey, they’re all residents making less than minimum wage when you count up the hours. Cheap is a necessity.)

So really, it’s not necessarily the ‘going for drinks’ part that was a mistake, but perhaps it was the company he chose to surround himself with.

Also known as his co-residents.

Who all happened to be women.

Which again, he likes them and fully supports breaking the glass ceiling for women in healthcare, but sometimes it makes for some pretty awkward situations.

Like right now for example.

“I’m just saying, I don’t understand how we’re meant to have a fulfilling relationship with the job we do,” says Santos, gesticulating wildly with a drink in hand. It sloshes dangerously close to the edge and Collins shrinks away to avoid getting any spilled on her. “It’s ridiculous.”

“I think I have a pretty fulfilling relationship with my sister,” Mel says easily, and Trinity snorts.

“I don’t think she’s talking about those kinds of relationships,” Samira says, not unkindly, “More like romantic ones.”

“Oh.”

“I’m just saying,” she continues, popping a peanut into her mouth, “I went on a date the other night. One of my very rare, free, Friday nights, and the chick ghosted me three days later because she said I wasn’t prioritizing her. Like excuse fucking me for having a job.”

McKay winces sympathetically. “Ouch.”

“I know right. And this is the society that my parents want me to settle down and get married in,” she huffs before taking a healthy sip of her drink. “I mean honestly, who even gets married these days, especially during residency?”

“Langdon got married,” Collins shrugs and Santos rolls her eyes.

“Langdon got divorced,” she’s quick to remind her, and there’s a series of apologetic looks all around the table while he just rolls his eyes in turn.

“Christ,” he mutters. Trust him to catch a stray despite doing his best to not engage in this particular conversation.

“Honestly, that’s even more of a reason why this is a bad idea. You get divorced before you even hit thirty five.” She squints up at him from across the table. “Hey, does your wife need a rebound by any chance?”

“Classy, Trinity. Real classy,” he says dryly.

“No harm, no foul right?” she grins at him.

He just throws a crumpled up straw wrapper her way. She dodges it of course, shit eating grin widening. Mel silently passes him another under the table and this time it hits home, right in the middle of her forehead.

“Rude.”

“Says the woman who’s trying to bag my ex wife.”

She flashes another grin again before heaving a full body sigh. “I miss sex,” she grouses.

“Ditto,” sighs Samira, and there’s a murmur of assent from almost all around the table.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters again before downing the rest of his beer. “I’m going to get another. Wrap this conversation up by the time I get back.”

He lightly knocks his shoulder into Mel’s before glancing at her empty glass in silent question. She nods and slides it closer to him and he grabs that too, alongside his bottle.

“Commanding us to repress our sexual desires is misogynistic, Frank,” Santos quips as he walks away.

“Bite me, Trinity.”

He deposits the empties on the bar counter and does his best to take as long as possible to avoid going back to that table, even going as far as trying to make conversation with the very grumpy, very non cooperative bartender.

The thing is, Frank understands where they’re coming from. It’s tough dating in the kind of work that they do and even maintaining a marriage. He would know. His marriage was already shaky long before the whole rehab situation and that was just the last push they needed to end things for good. And yeah, okay, maybe he hasn’t forayed into the world of dating post divorce, but that’s just because he can almost guarantee that it will be a nightmare.

(And maybe a small part of him doesn’t want to hop onto the dating scene because someone else has already piqued his interest, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Despite his best attempts to dither about, the conversation is still ongoing when he returns and Langdon wishes he ordered something stronger than a Corona.

“It’s just that, I wish I didn’t have to explain to him that sometimes it would be nice to be held for a little bit, you know,” Collins says while Samira pats her on the shoulder. “The sheets haven’t even cooled yet and he’s already halfway out the door.”

“God, I know what you mean. Men are the worst,” Samira says emphatically.

“Big whoop,” says Santos, “At least you two are getting laid. Some of us--” she gestures to herself, McKay and Mel, who blushes slightly, sinking down in her chair, “--are halfway to a nunnery.”

“Hey, I do not need anymore man trouble in my life,” interjects Cassie, “The last time I had a casual hookup I ended up pregnant and married to the dumbass.”

“Skill issue,” says Santos, waving her off. “Look at poor Mel here. I bet she misses it.”

Her flush darkens as all the attention lands on her and Langdon finds his throat feeling kind of funny. He takes another swig of his beer, once again wishing it was tequila, to try and wash it away as he does his best to appear uninterested, even as a muscle jumps in his jaw.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I find it kind of boring,” Mel says stiffly, eyes focused on the melting ice of her drink as she fiddles with the cherry stem.

The whole table goes quiet.

“What do you mean you find sex boring,” Santos asks, looking absolutely gobsmacked.

Her entire face has been set ablaze at this point. “It just wasn’t for me. I mostly just laid there waiting for it to be over,” she says primly. Her blush extends down her neck and collarbones and she bears a striking resemblance to a tomato.

“Are you, like, asexual or something?” Trinity continues to press, completely ignoring the way Mel has begun turtling in on herself. “Because that’s cool too.”

Her flush deepens. Frank didn’t even know it was physiologically possible for someone’s skin to get that red.

“No I’m not. I’ve just… never really had anything more than an okay time while… doing it.”

For a second everyone just sort of stares at her, even Langdon, although he tries his best to repress any thoughts about Mel and that.

And then,

“Oh honey,” Collins starts, sympathetically, before the entire table roars back to life.

The rest of that conversation is lost to a loud buzzing in Langdon’s ear as he does his best to push the image of Mel, golden hair fanned out around her head as she lays flat on her back--

The bottle cap he was fidgeting with clatters to the floor.

He wonders-- which he absolutely should not be doing-- what it was like for her. If it was a one time thing or if she tried multiple times before giving up. He wonders what her type would be (definitely not former drug addicts, his mind supplies helpfully) and then the thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he realises that no one has been able to please her in the way she deserves. The picture that his wonderful-terrible-traitorous brain has conjured up plays on a constant loop behind his eyes and this has to be the worst kind of torture.

Langdon wonders if this is a punishment of some sort for the direction his life has taken.

They do eventually move on to other topics, much more safer and work appropriate topics, but he’s still caught up in that from before.

Eventually, it’s time to leave and he finds himself hanging back with Mel. It’s not on purpose he tries to tell himself. It’s a poor attempt at a half baked lie.

“Need a ride home?” he asks while she fiddles with her phone.

She looks up at him and smiles and god, now he’s wondering if she’d smile at him that way in bed.

He’s truly a sick man, he thinks.

“Yeah, thanks. Becca’s staying the night at the care centre. They’re having a movie night.”

“Oh, cool. So you’ve got the place to yourself tonight?”

“Yep,” she sighs happily. “Hardly ever happens. I can’t wait to get home and relax. I think I might run a bath.”

He holds the door open for her and they walk outside where it’s drizzling slightly. She steps a bit closer to him as they both pick up the pace, and he can smell the light floral tones of her shampoo.

“Sounds… relaxing,” he says in a half strangled voice, doing his best to play cool. He’s very lucky that Mel is mostly oblivious to less than subtle feelings because she just hums in response.

“Well, it was either that or letting Trinity talk me into joining one of those dating apps she’s always talking about,” she says and then casts a sideways glance towards him when he doesn’t say anything. 

“Fun,” he manages to croak while he’s definitely not picturing Mel out on a date with another man.

“That was a joke,” she clarifies. 

“Right.” He clicks the key fob to unlock the car and holds the door open for her before darting around to the driver’s side. The rain has picked up a bit more, a steady patter against the windshield.

“I don’t think I’d do it though,” she wrinkles her nose daintily, “The whole dating app thing. It seems… sketchy.”

Oh thank god, he wants to weep in relief.

Mel continues, completely unbeknownst to his quiet sermon. “Besides, I meant what I said. About it being boring. Is that weird?”

Langdon wants to jump out of the moving car.

“I don’t think it’s… weird,” he says through grit teeth, “A lot of people don’t experience sexual attraction.”

“I never said I didn’t. It just… never happened I guess. At least not with other people.”

He just hums noncommittal because now he’s faced with trying to understand what exactly she means by not with other people. Pleasure? Maybe. The image of Mel with her hands between her legs pops into his head unbidden. He wonders if that’s what she’s going to do later, when she’s all alone at home in the bath, and he presses a little too hard on the brakes when they reach a red light.

“Sorry,” he mutters, definitively not making eye contact with her. He feels warm all of a sudden despite the AC set to a cool 60. 

“It’s fine.” She squints up at him through the darkness of the car. “Have you been out on any dates? You know, since the…”

“Divorce?” he supplies with a quirk of an eyebrow, “Nah. Don’t feel like I’m there yet.”

He doesn’t want to tell her that part of the reason he doesn’t feel ready as yet is because of the way his stomach swoops whenever she smiles at him. God, he’s a fucking mess.

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“You know. Sex.”

He almost jerks the car to a stop again.

“Jesus, Mel.”

“Sorry,” she shrugs, looking anything but apologetic. She looks at him again, head tilted slightly to the side. “Well, do you?”

Either she doesn’t pick up on his discomfort or she doesn’t care, and honestly he’s not sure which is worse. He grits his teeth.

“Can’t really say I think too much about it.” Lies, lies, lies.

“Really? Huh.”

“What do you mean, huh?”

“Nothing. I just thought men were a bit more… needy.”

He snorts. “Do I look needy to you, Mel?”

Her cheeks turn pink. “Well, no, but I just meant that my ex-boyfriends used to complain if more than a week went by without them getting any.”

“That’s a dickbag move,” he says mildly while the thought of wringing the neck of some faceless man who dared to say something like that to her infiltrated his mind.

“Yeah, well. There’s a reason none of my relationships lasted long.” Her smile is a little rueful. “Who knows, maybe I might have better luck in the future with someone else.”

That’s something that he doesn’t want to think about. Mel, meeting some new guy and going out with him. Another unworthy douchebag in a long line of unworthy douchebags, someone who makes her feel like dating and relationships are supposed to be a chore. Or worse-- she ends up meeting someone that she actually likes.

The bitter coating of ash sticks to his tongue at the thought and something green and prickly bubbles in his stomach.

“Yeah… I hope so too.”

“It’ll be like an experiment,” she says with a wry smile, “To see if I’m actually the problem or if these things really are boring.”

“I don’t think there’s any world in which you could ever be the problem,” he tells her and her smile brightens a little.

“Only one way to find out I guess.”

It really is becoming a problem. The thought of Mel with other men shouldn’t make him want to punch his fist into a wall and yet.

He flicks his indicator on and pulls in neatly into the last available visitor’s spot at her complex. The car idles to a stop but neither of them make any move to get out. Outside, the rain is still pouring and he swears he sees lightning flash in the distance.

He wants to tell her that what she needs is someone who knows her, someone who’s attuned to her very being, willing to go as slow or fast as she wants. Someone who knows what it’s like to work crazy hours in a high stress job where you see people at their worst all times of the day.

“Maybe we should sleep together,” he blurts out. She blinks at him. “Fuck.”

“Yes, you’ve already said that,” she manages to reply faintly.

“Shit. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was way out of line.” He fumbles with the car door, clicking it unlocked so she can tuck and run for the hills if needed. God, he’s such a fool and now he’s probably messed up their friendship much less anything more than that.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why was it out of line? Did you not mean it?”

His self loathing hate train screeches to a halt.

He scoffs. “Of course I fuckin’ mean it. Jesus Christ, just the thought of you drives me insane.”

Mel blinks again before a self satisfied look overtakes her face. “Would you like to come inside?”

It’s his turn to blink, stunned, and he twists to face her to make sure he heard properly. Her face is open as she looks up at him, hand on the door handle and her eyebrows tilt when she catches him looking.

“I-- what?”

“Come inside,” she says again, the hint of bravado she displayed earlier starting to waver around the edges at his hesitation.

That’s the last thing he wants of course, because in what world does Mel King think he wouldn’t want to hook up with her.

“Yes,” he nods, “I would like that.”

“Okay then.”

Mel doesn’t hesitate, popping the door open and darting out in the rain and Frank can only scramble to follow, just barely remembering to click the car door locked as he runs through the rain to catch up with her.

He’s positively soaked by the time he makes it to the front door of her condo and Mel is giggling at the way his fringe flops down into his eyes. She fumbles with the lock for a second and he takes the opportunity to press closer to her under the guise of getting out of the rain. She shivers, glancing up at him with wide blown pupils and god, the things he wants to do to her-- Robby is going to push him off the fucking roof.

The door opens and she tugs him inside, and Frank uses the momentum to turn them around, pushing her up against her front door.

“This could be a very stupid idea,” he murmurs, watching the way she shivers as he rubs circles into the delicate skin of her collarbone. “We work together.”

“So do Collins and Robby. And Samira and Abbot,” she breathes, arching her back just a little to feel his touch more fully. “Honestly, at this point it seems like it might be a prerequisite to working there.”

“Yeah, but it’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Because,” he says, eyes searching her face, “You’re you.”

“Frank,” Mel whispers, brushing his hair out of his eyes and he swallows. “Kiss me.”

His heart is pounding in his chest but he doesn’t quite yet do as he’s told. Instead he takes his time, trailing his fingertips up her neck and jaw, cataloguing each sigh and catch of her breath. It would be a lie if he said he hadn’t thought about this before. His fingers curl around the angle of her jaw and it’s like time stops as he slowly lowers his face towards hers.

Mel holds herself extremely still as he presses his lips against hers, hands curling themselves into the soft material of his t-shirt. She tastes like rainwater, cold and crisp, with the slight jarring edge of the vodka she was drinking earlier. He presses against her more firmly and she sighs, kissing him back in earnest now. Despite his words from earlier, he tries his best to keep everything above board, but he still can’t help the hunger he feels deep in his stomach. He nips at her bottom lip and she gasps, and he takes the opportunity to lick inside her mouth.

If this is all he would ever get from her, Frank could die a happy man.

They continue like that, a slick back and forth of mouths and whispered sighs. He wants more-- wants to feel the heat of her skin, to bury his face in her neck and smell her, to feel her around him in more ways than one. Just the thought of her is so all consuming that he can’t help but nip at her lip and she squeaks, her entire body shuddering.

She’s trembling a little when he pulls back and he frowns.

“Mel,” he says, catching her hand and tangling her fingers with his, “We don’t have to do anything at all if that’s what you want. I could leave right now and we can pretend that none of this ever happened.”

“No,” she says and then clears her throat so her voice comes out a little sturdier, “No, I don’t want you to leave.”

“Okay then,” he says as he takes a step back from her, “Let’s just sit down okay?”

She nods, taking a step back from him but still leaving their fingers looped together. He follows her to the couch, trying his best to reign in his intense urge to snoop. He’s been inside her place only once or twice, mostly because she told him Becca’s not particularly fond of new people intruding in their home.

She comes to a halt in front of a plush sofa. “I’m going to grab a water,” she tells him, worrying a hangnail on the side of her thumb with her nail, “Do you want one?”

“Sure.”

She nods again, dropping his hand. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Langdon sinks down onto the couch and it only takes two seconds before his eyes are cataloguing each title on the shelf, from the colourful spines of literary fiction to the heavy new edition of Guyton and Hall that could possibly be used as a murder weapon. There were pictures too, mostly of her and Becca, but there were one or two of just Mel alone, standing and smiling shyly at the camera.

It doesn’t take long for her to return, carrying two bottles and he mumbles his thanks as she passes one over to him. Mel sits on the couch, leaving a few inches of space between them. Enough where their thighs aren’t pressed against one another's but still easily breached by the stretch of an arm.

(He almost feigns the whole cheesy yawn-stretch move just to be able to touch her again but Langdon uses his last shred of willpower to at least pretend that he isn’t going insane right now.)

She flicks the tv on to some reality show Frank has vaguely heard about and sets the volume on low, glancing back at him.

“Becca likes to watch a lot of reality tv,” she explains, “It’s become sort of comforting background noise.”

“Oh yeah, real chill,” he says, deadpan, as the camera shakily moves between two women suddenly arguing with each other. It gets a laugh out of her and he considers it a job well done. 

The tension doesn’t quite melt between them but it does settle into something milder, a bit more manageable. He sinks back into the couch and lets Mel take the lead, explaining the intricacies of human interaction through the lens of reality tv, her mannerisms so animated that he can’t help but smile.

(He also caves after like five minutes and stretches his arm out along the back of the sofa, not quite touching her but almost.)

(If Mel leans into it, he pretends not to notice, the same way he pretends not to notice the slight catch in her breath as his fingers oh so delicately begin to stroke the soft skin atop her collarbone.)

“What you said earlier,” he broaches slowly, when the credits start to roll about thirty minutes later, “About it being boring…”

Mel turns pink as soon as he brings it up.

“It’s just... I don’t know,” she huffs, picking at a stray thread on the throw pillow she was hugging to her chest.

“Come on Dr King, use your words.”

Her skin gets even pinker and the warmth simmering low in his belly roars back to life.

“I’ve had boyfriends of course. Three to be exact: one in highschool, one in undergrad and then another in med school.They were just… not very good, I guess,” she says, fidgeting a little before hastily rushing to add, “Not that I would really know for sure though, because we never really did much anyway. My sample size is very small.”

“Good how?” he asks, although he could put together the context clues. Langdon just wanted to see exactly how red she could get. Maybe he enjoyed her squirming a bit too much. It definitely played a factor considering he was already half hard in his pants.

She shoots him a withering look and flashes her a toothy, shit eating grin in return. “None of them have ever given me an orgasm, okay,” she finally relents.

He just hums non-committally, leaning towards her a bit more. “What a damn shame,” he says in a deceptively casual voice while his heartbeat roars in his ear. His entire body feels like a livewire, sparking and hissing and ready to explode at the barest touch. “You deserve better than that.”

She just squeaks something unintelligible out and his grin widens.

“What about you?” he asks, adjusting his body against the sofa so he’s yet another inch close to her.

“What about me?”

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asks in a blunt sort of way that sends her cheeks all the way into fuschia. It’s the exact reaction he was looking for all night-- pinked skin, pupils blown, breath quickening-- completely at odds with her put together persona she usually wears at work.

They’ve both been inching closer to each other over the course of the conversation, whether consciously or unconsciously, he’s not sure. He lets his hand drop to her ankle, drawing light patterns against her bones and she shivers, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

He frowns.

“Mel,” he says, a tone of finality colouring his voice, “If you want to stop-- the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable. We can forget I ever said anything.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.”

His frown deepens. “Then what is it?”

She gets that steely look on her face, the kind she usually wears right before doing a complicated procedure or dealing with an uncooperative patient. She closes the distance between them, pressing her lips against his in a hard, determined sort of way. It’s far more chaste than the one they shared earlier, close mouthed and dry, but he still makes a noise of surprise somewhere deep down in his chest. The hand on her ankle tightens, tugging her forward so she’s almost sprawled out in his lap, and Mel gasps, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Her hips cant into his and he groans, tearing his mouth away from hers.

“You’re giving me some really mixed signals here, sweetheart,” he says through gritted teeth, using all of his restraint to keep from grinding against her.

Her hair is falling out of her braid and her glasses sit askew on her face. “I want this,” she says firmly, still gripping on to his shoulders.

“Which parts?” he asks, nipping at her neck. “I need specifics.”

“All of it.”

His lips tip up into a lazy smile. “Mel King, are you asking me to have sex with you?”

“Hey, you asked me first-- oh.”

Langdon stopped paying attention midway through her sentence, his brain losing all capacity to think of anything other than sex and Mel and sex with Mel. He latches on to her neck, taking a moment to scrape his teeth across her fluttering pulse before kissing up the line of her jaw. One of his hands dips beneath her scrub top, feeling the smooth skin of her abdomen before squeezing her breast through the soft cup of her bra. Her hips are still doing those little swivels against his own and he’s not sure if she’s even aware of it or the soft little whimpering noises from the back of her throat. Either way, they’re both driving him crazy.

He kisses her again, properly this time, all teeth and tongue and spit. One of his knees slots easily into the space between her thighs, pressing up against her cunt and giving her something more firm to rub on. He can feel the heat of her, even through her scrub bottoms.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” he murmurs, kneading her breast and making her sputter. His fingers dip into the cup and tweak her nipple, quick, and it draws another squeal out of her. He wants to catalogue all of it, each and every sound she makes in response to him.

“Wh- what question?” she pants, grinding down unabashedly on his thigh.

The muscles of her stomach quiver as he pushes her top up, letting it bunch up beneath her bust, and he places his free hand on the small of her back to guide her movements. Mel eagerly follows his lead, rocking against his leg, searching for that friction against her clit. It’s so fucking hot and that it makes him feel like he’s about to combust right then and there.

“When you’re alone,” he breathes into her ear while leading the easy push pull of her hips, “Do you touch yourself? Do you make yourself come?”

“I- yes, sometimes,” she gasps.

He just hums happily in response, nibbling on her earlobe. “Do you use your fingers? Or do you do this?”

She groans, half embarrassed and half turned on, and Frank just shushes her, dropping a kiss on the side of her head.

“This mostly… I can’t really get out of my head long enough to use my fingers,” she whispers as sweat starts to gather at her temples.

He clucks his tongue. “Poor thing,” he says, pausing to lick the underside of her jaw. “And what do you think about?”

“Frank!” she gasps, jerking back. She has a cute, mortified expression on her face, cheeks ablaze once more. He just smiles back at her.

“I just want to get all my facts straight,” he says easily, pulling the cups of her bra down completely. He pushes the scrub top up even more, finally exposing her chest to him, and he swears under his breath as he takes it in, all milky white supple skin and pink, peaked nipples. His mouth is aching to bite into her tits but he doesn’t want to hunch forward, not when she’s riding his thigh in earnest now, her muscles twitching as she edges closer to her orgasm.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” she sniffs primly.

“I just want to know what you’re into,” he says innocently enough, even as he cups her breasts in his hands, thumb flicking over a nipple. It makes her yelp and he smiles. “Gotta share with the class sometimes, Dr King. After all, residents are here to learn from one another.”

“Oh my god,” she groans again, burying her face in his neck. He squeezes her ass affectionately.

“Alright, I’ll go first then,” he says before unceremoniously pushing her off his lap and back onto the couch. She squeaks, limbs flying akimbo, and she ends up almost completely flat on her  back.

Langdon uses her surprise to manhandle her legs open, his joints creaking as he kneels between her thighs.

His fingers trace the waistband of her scrubs, tugging on the end of the bow to undo the string, and she sucks in a breath, her entire body suddenly going still.

“For example, I’m very much into the idea of eating you out,” he says easily, rubbing the soft skin of her pelvis. He doesn’t move to tug off her pants or dip his hands inside. Instead he rocks back on his haunches and stares up at her, waiting for an all clear.

Mel clears her throat. “I’ve only done that once.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

She screws up her nose. “I didn’t really enjoy it. It was all… wet.”

“It’s supposed to be wet,” he smirks, and she rolls her eyes at him.

“You know what I mean. I was just… I don’t know. Too sloppy to feel good,” she says, still blushing.

He hums, one hand hooking behind her knee while the other continues to rub circles into her skin. “Do you want to let me try?” 

At her imperceptible nod he tugs off her scrub pants and she helps him by canting her hips upward.

Her underwear is perfunctory black cotton, nothing special, but Frank still traces the line of elastic reverently, noting the damp spot on the crotch. He takes a minute to take it all in: Mel spread wide before him, flush extending all the way down to her chest, her quick little pants as beads of perspiration pepper her skin.

He hooks a finger around the waistband of her panties and slowly drags them off exposing the glistening pink flesh of her cunt.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, gently trailing a knuckle down the crease of her thigh.

She lets out a shuddering breath. “You really don’t have to,” she tries, one last time, although her protest seems to be wearing thin with the way she leans into his touch. “I don’t know if I’ll-- I don’t want to make you feel weird if I can’t come.”

Frank does his best to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Mel,” he says, voice going a little thin, “Shut up.”

Any further protest is lost on him as he leans in, pressing his mouth against the soft skin of her thigh, breathing in the heady smell of her. He leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses across her skin, stopping just short of her vulva, and hears that same shuddering sigh again. If he wasn’t so sure that his final destination would be in the opposite direction, Frank would have thought that he’d died and gone to heaven.

She’s already so wet and he’s barely touched her. He trails his finger down the centre of her, nail barely dragging over her clit, and her entire body jerks as if she’s been electrocuted. God, she’s so wet and so receptive. He could spend all day just teasing her, studying all the ways in which she responds to him.

Unfortunately, he does not have all day, and Langdon himself feels too keyed up to draw things out much longer, so without any further ado, he unceremoniously buries his face in her pussy.

“Oh god,” he vaguely hears her moan out, but barely pays it any mind, instead hitching her leg over his shoulder, hand locking her hips in place so that he could keep her right where he wants her. His tongue traces featherlight circles around her clit before he leans in further to lick a fat stripe up her centre, causing her to moan again.

Langdon likes eating pussy. His wife-- ex wife-- used to joke that it was the only thing his mouth was good for. He could go at it for hours, just licking and sucking until his jaw cramps up and even then he still probably won’t stop until he is told to. He likes being of service and for Mel, well, he likes feeling as if he’s doing something special for her.

His grip is tight on her hips as he licks into her, stopping her from bucking against him. If given the chance, he’s certain that she’d love nothing more than to grind her pretty little cunt against his face, riding it just like she was doing to his thigh earlier. It’s definitely not something he’s opposed to-- Langdon is well aware that he’d love nothing better than for Mel to use him however she wishes-- but right now he’s a man on a mission.

He licks into her eagerly, a mix of long, languid strokes and soft little kitten licks that drive her insane if the sounds she’s making are anything to go by. He lets his teeth graze against her clit, teeth nibbling at the sensitive flesh around it, and she keens loudly, one hand landing in his hair and twisting hard.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart,” he murmurs into her skin, taking a moment to breathe. His fingers replace his tongue, delicately tracing her labia before he teases a fingertip in. Her entire body spasms, and he lets the whole thing sink in. “So, so good.”

“I feel-- I feel,” she hiccups the words, eyes screwed shut.

“I know,” he coos, before getting back to work.

He fucks her just like that, tongue laving on her clit and slow, soft thrusts of his finger inside her. She could probably take another, but he doesn’t want to push her, not when she seems like she’s getting close, her limbs shaking while nonsensical babble drips from her lips.

It only takes a few more minutes before her entire body starts to tense and takes the opportunity to suck hard on her clit, fingers rubbing up inside of her. Her hand lands on his head, tangling in his hair, tugging on it hard as she comes with a broken moan. It surprises him a little, the sharp shoot of pain skittering down his spine and mixing with his own pleasure, making his hips stutter against nothing as he licks her through it.

He keeps his mouth on her until she comes back down, feebly pushing against his forehead and he only pulls back enough to rest his chin on her bare thigh. Her cheeks are glowing pink and there are tendrils of hair sticking to her temples and fuck, she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his life.

“I think that was a solid attempt,” he says, just to be annoying as she catches her breath. His mouth and chin are still wet with her slick.

Mel shoots him a look and makes a weak attempt to kick him. He just chuckles as he easily dodges it, looping his hand around her ankle and dropping a quick kiss to the bone there.

“That was not what I had in mind when I asked you to… when I suggested you come inside,” she says, still sounding a little breathless.

“Well, I did ask you to tell me what you’re into,” he says as he nuzzles his face against her hip bone, slowly climbing the length of her body. He’s suddenly unable to stop touching her, the kiss being the spark that lit the fuse and her orgasm drenching his need with gasoline. He drops another kiss right beneath her belly button. “You didn’t want to say so. Dealer’s choice.”

“And that was your first pick?” she huffs, even as she shifts to allow him better access to mouth across her chest.

“You seemed to enjoy it,” he hums, nipping at the top of her cleavage.

Her flush creeps down her neck. “I did,” she says, “Very much so. Even though it was… unexpected.”

“Gotta tell me what you expect then if you want to make it happen, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to the angle of her jaw. His hand lands on her hip and gives it a light squeeze. “Communication and all that.”

He hovers over her lips for a moment, letting her decide if she wants to close the gap between them or not. Mel doesn’t hesitate, surging up to kiss him. She’s a little shy at first, clearly not used to the taste of herself, but Frank lets her take the reigns, her tongue tentatively flicking into his mouth.

She kisses him like that for a bit, slow and exploratory, and he’s more than happy to lean back against the couch and let her have her way with him. She climbs back into his lap, her hair now loose and tickling his cheeks as it swoops down from her head, a curtain of gold around them.

He does jump a little when her hand lands on the bulge of his pants, giving it a tentative squeeze through the thin layers of cotton. His hips buck against her, embarrassingly so, and he screws his eyes shut.

“You want something else, baby?” he asks, doing his best to keep his voice even as she continues to rub him through his scrub bottoms. Her palm is warm, even through the fabric.

Mel nods. “Can I take it out?” she asks, looking up at him with big eyes.

Frank is going to die. Frank is dying and going to hell because how is this real.

Not trusting himself to speak, he just nods, clenching his jaw so hard that he’s certain he’s probably cracked a tooth.

She easily pulls the drawstring loose, and he helps her by lifting his hips so she can pull his pants off entirely. His length springs free and before he can even take a moment to memorise the look on her face, her hand is wrapping around him, giving it an experimental tug, and all semblance of logical thought flies out his head.

“Jesus, Mel,” he swears, throwing his head back against the couch as she acquaints herself with his cock. Her hand was dry and friction hurt a bit as she stroked him up and down but there was nothing on this planet that could make him tell her to stop, not when he’s dreamt of this for months.

Like with everything, Mel is a quick learner. She sets an easy pace, stroking him all the way down his length before circling the tip with her thumb, rinse and repeat. She keeps her eyes on him the entire time, cataloguing each hitch in his breath, the way his stomach quivers under her touch, the change in the rate of his breathing.

A drop of precum beads at the tip and she swipes her thumb through it. Frank watches her with half lidded eyes as she brings her thumb up to her mouth and sucks on it gently.

It’s probably one of the hottest things he’s ever seen and the need that he’s been so carefully trying to restrain roars back to life.

“You are going to kill me,” he declares before pulling her in for a hard, all consuming kiss.

His grip on her hips tighten, just as he’s about to lay her back on the couch, she stops him, pressing her hands to his chest.

“No. I want to-- like this,” she says, panting a little. She squeezes her thighs around his hips to really send the message home. “I've been thinking about it forever.”

His brain short circuits at her words and it takes a full minute before the realization sinks in. A slow languid smirk curls across his face as her words hit home. “Melissa King,” he says, feigning shock even as he helps her arrange her limbs. “Are you admitting that you’ve thought about this before?” 

He bucks his hips and the blunt head of his cock bumps against her folds, rubbing against her clit. She lets loose a shaky breath, pushing down harder on his chest.

“Maybe,” she allows, watching as he continues to rub himself through her folds, getting nice and wet. She was absolutely drenched.

“Only maybe?” he says, running his hands up and down her sides. He can’t seem to stop touching her, all soft, silky smooth skin, watching as the pink bleeds down her cheeks and across her chest. 

“I had a plan,” she finally says, giving in as he helps her cant her hips forward, just a small slow grind of their pelvises together. “To eventually… you know, get you here.”

“A plan,” he says delightedly. “How many steps was it? Did you make a poster?”

“Shut up,” Mel grumbles, ducking her head to hide her flush in the crook of his neck.

“Aw baby,” he coos, unable to keep the smile from blending into his words. He sweeps a hand down her back and she pinches a nipple in retaliation. 

Frank lifts her chin, bringing her gaze back to his. The embarrassment still lingers and he leans up to kiss her, soft and chaste.

“You could have said ‘I want to have sex with you,’ at any given time in the past few months and I would have said where and when,” he tells her, injecting every ounce of sincerity that he could muster into his words.

A small smile tugs at her lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Very,” he nods in agreement before leaning up to kiss her again. “Now, are you going to show me what you’ve been thinking about, or should I take over?”

Mel makes a noise in the back of her throat, pulling away to swat at his nose lightly. “Impatient,” she says, rolling her hips against him once more. His hands come down heavy on her ass, not quite a slap but still hard enough to sting for a moment, and she squeaks.

“You have the floor, Dr King,” he says, mouthing down the column of her neck.

“Ridiculous,” she says again, but this time she’s shifting her hips and soon she’s sinking down on him, inch by painstaking inch until he’s buried to the hilt.

For a minute they sit like that. She’s so tight around him. Tight and wet and warm, like absolute heaven on earth. It takes all of his self control to not come right there and then. There’s a slight furrow in her brows and she’s biting her bottom lip in concentration as she gives an experimental roll of her hips.

“God, Mel,” he manages to gasp out, screwing his eyes shut. It feels too much and entirely not enough all at once.

She starts moving her hips in earnest now, slow, methodical circles that send bolts of electricity down his spine.

“I’ve never done this before,” she tells him, and he squeezes her hips so hard he’s worried that he might leave bruises. The thought of this being something new that she wanted to try out with him sends a thrill through his veins.

“Yeah? Wanted me to be your guinea pig?” he rasps out as he guides her swivels.

“You’re a good teacher,” she says, grinding into him. “I want to know what it feels like. You’d tell me if I was good.”

He’s entirely sure that his brain needs to reboot because, “Jesus.”

“Is this good?” she asks, still doing little figure eight motions with her hips. Her breath stutters when it causes her clit to rub against his pubic bone, and she spasms around him.

The sudden clench of her cunt around his cock makes him choke on his tongue. “Yeah, that’s good,” he breathes, doing his best to stay still and let her take whatever she wanted from him. It doesn’t stop his hands from wandering though, cupping her breasts and her ass and tangling his fingers in the ends of her hair. “Really good, honey. Does it feel good for you?”

Her eyes screw shut and she nods jerkily. 

His hands find her hips again. “Wanna try something?” he asks. She nods again and he gives her a squeeze.

Frank carefully helps her up until just the tip remains inside before sliding her back down. He does it a few more times before she gets the hang of it and soon she’s riding him in earnest.

“God look at you,” he breathes, unable to tear his eyes away from her. His hand comes up to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. Her pupils are blown wide and golden strands of hair stick to her forehead. He leans forward, unable to help himself, and steals a kiss. It throws off her rhythm a little, but he makes up for it by stroking his tongue over hers. “You’re so pretty.”

Soon enough she starts making those sounds again, the soft keening mews in the back of her throat as her movements get jerkier and less coordinated. Frank tries to take over, fucking up into her when she misses a beat, but his body is already drawn taut, his release teetering on the edge at the base of his spine. Together they become a mess of limbs and sloppy kisses, his whispered praise trickling off into sighs and moans and grunts, nothing to be heard except the slick slap of their bodies as they move.

He wedges a hand between them, desperate to bring her to climax first. His thumb finds her clit and starts rubbing circles in it, making Mel cry out. The muscles in her thighs quiver and her head drops against his, panting in his mouth.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing an open mouthed kiss to her temple. “You’re doing so good for me. You gonna come like this, Mel? You gonna come riding me just like you imagined all these months now?”

“Oh my god, Frank,” she says, her voice hitching as she digs her nails into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he coaxes her, transfixed on the way his cock moves in and out of her. “Look at my pretty girl being so good for me.”

Mel’s entire body was already shaking, complete with irregular contractions of her core around him, so it really doesn’t take much for him to finally bring her over the edge. He keeps up a steady stream of filthy praise, half his words garbled by the press of his mouth against her throat and chest wherever else he could reach as he thumbs her clit.

This time when Mel comes, her whole body goes rigid for a moment before she shudders and slumps over him, hips swivelling in broken little circles as she chases that ribbon of pleasure. He can hear her sweet little cries interspaced in the way she’s gasping for air, but it’s the way her cunt clenches around him that sends him over the edge, that thread finally snapping and sending him hurtling through what feels like all of space and time. His brain is scrubbed blank, nothing except the feel of his pleasure and Mel around him.

He’s not sure how long they’re out for-- it could be minutes or hours or fuck, even days. All he knows is that when he finally comes back down to earth, it’s with Mel panting against his chest, both of their hearts thundering through layers of flesh and bone. He runs a weary hand down her spine and she replies with a dry kiss to his collarbone.

Frank feels like his ears are ringing.

They stay like that long enough that he starts to soften inside of her. The sweat on their bodies has cooled and he can feel the way his come is starting to leak between them.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he murmurs around a mouthful of her hair. She’s so beautiful like this, all pliable and soft in his lap, skin tinged pink with pleasure. Her eyes are still blown wide, this adorable fucked out expression on her face. The last scrapings of arousal flare feebly in his belly as he looks at her.

“Mmm,” Mel groans, “Five more minutes.”

It gets a chuckle out of him and Frank settles back into the couch, rubbing her back. He could stay like this forever, wrapped up around her with the heady smell of sex in the air.

Later, there will be time for talking and exploring these new changes to their dynamic, but for now Frank is more than content to just sit here with the weight of her in his arms, her warmth seeping into his chest along with an unnamed emotion or two. 

“Take all the time you need,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.