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He finds her in the ambulance bay, standing alone with her arms crossed and staring out into the night, still in her scrubs.
“Mel.”
She jumps at the sound, her shoulders tensing for a moment before he comes into view, and she relaxes.
“Hi, Dr. Langdon.”
She smiles, but he can tell something’s bothering her, so he walks over to stand beside her and says, “Rough day, huh?”
Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t say anything, and he turns his head away from her to give her a moment, still looking at her in his peripheral vision.
She nods in agreement and whispers, “Yeah.”
“But you got through it,” he says. “And I don’t know if I would’ve made it through this shift without you.”
He sees her look over at him from the corner of his eye, and he can’t meet her gaze because it’s one thing to open up about this job and how he doesn’t know if he’s ready to be back in the ER, but it’s another thing to tell someone he barely knows how much he needs her.
“You heading out soon to meet up with Becca?”
He thought that might cheer her up, but she tenses, hands gripping her arms tighter, nails digging into her skin.
“Uh, no, she’s with her boyfriend and his parents,” Mel says.
And then, quietly, “Even though we had plans to watch the fireworks together like we do every year.”
He turns his head to look at her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion because he thought they had worked it out and everything was OK.
“She didn’t invite you?”
“No,” Mel says with a shake of her head.
He puts his hands in the pockets of his scrubs, fists his hands in the fabric so he doesn’t reach for her because even though they have a connection and it feels like they’re drawn to each other, he doesn’t know her like that.
“That must hurt. I’m really sorry, Mel.”
She doesn’t say anything, and for a moment, he thinks she didn’t hear him, but her hands unclench, and she lowers her arms.
Before either of them can say anything, the doors open with a whoosh, and a few day shifters walk out of the hospital and spot them. He tells them to have a good night and takes his hands out of his pockets to wave.
He notices Mel’s eyes following his left hand as he drops it to his side.
“Do you have to get home?”
He reaches for his hand without thinking, fiddling with his wedding ring as her gaze lifts to meet his eyes.
“I’m actually on my own tonight, too.”
Her eyes widen, eyebrows rising, and he knows what she’s thinking.
“It’s uh — my wife’s family has land in upstate New York, and they do a big cookout and set off fireworks every Fourth. I didn’t want to go this year because I didn’t want to rush back for my first shift on Monday, I mean I’ve been stressing about it for weeks and she knew that,” he says, shaking his head. “But she wanted to go, so she did, and she took the kids with her.”
“Oh, that —”
But she doesn’t say anything else, so he raises his eyebrows and finishes her sentence with, “Must hurt? C’mon, look at me, I’ve never been better.”
She smiles, head tipping back a bit, and he drops his gaze to the curve of her lips, warmth spreading through his chest because he did that.
“I was only covering a shift today because I didn’t want to be alone on another holiday,” he says without thinking.
He clears his throat, shaking his head and closing his eyes as if that will make him forget revealing the cracks in his marriage.
When he opens his eyes, Mel is looking at him, expression soft and understanding, and he thinks nobody really gets him like she does.
It’s startling to think that about someone he’s only spent two days with, so he says, “Uh, some doctors and nurses are on the roof to watch the fireworks. I wasn’t going to go up alone, but I’ll go if you want —”
“Yes,” she says quickly, cutting him off. “Let’s go.”
He bites his lip to hide a smile and motions toward the hospital, telling her to go in and he’ll follow.
Neither of them says anything as they walk into the hospital or on the elevator up to the roof.
Her steps falter once she sees the crowd, tension back in her shoulders, and he hesitates too.
“Why don’t we just,” he says and tilts his head toward the building and away from everyone.
She nods, tension releasing, and they step to the side, nobody even noticing that they’re up on the roof now.
Mel is watching everyone else, eyes flitting from person to person, as he watches her, and he notices her wincing as she moves her head.
He nudges her with his elbow to get her attention and asks, “How are you? Is your head hurting?”
“Oh,” she says, hand reaching up to touch the back of her head.
“I’m sorry for not checking on you sooner and letting what happened to you get lost in the chaos of the day.”
“It’s fine, I’m fine.”
She turns to him, and he raises his eyebrows, tilting his head, showing her that he doesn’t believe her, and she sighs.
“OK, it’s still sore and I have a headache, but the headache isn’t unusual after a long shift.”
Then he watches as her hand moves down the back of her head, running over her braid as she brings it over her shoulder.
“This probably isn’t helping.”
He doesn’t know why he does it, says, “Let me,” and gestures for her to turn around.
He thinks she’ll wave him off, tell him not to worry, that she can do it herself.
But she doesn’t.
She turns around so her back is to him, and he takes a step closer, reaching up to grab onto her braid, slowly sliding the hair tie off.
He puts her hair tie on his wrist, next to the one he already has on, and the plait almost falls apart on its own so he really doesn’t have to do anything.
But he can’t help putting his hands in her hair, undoing the braid and running his fingers through the strands gently.
He tells himself that he just wants to ease the tension on her head and help her, repeats it in his head and ignores how intimate this is, how he can’t remember the last time he was this close to his wife.
“There you go,” he says quietly once her hair is loose around her shoulders.
She sighs and leans into him, her back against his chest now, and tilts her head to rest on his shoulder as the fireworks start in the distance, close enough to see but far enough that they can’t hear the pops and fizzles.
He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, why her body against his quiets his mind.
And he knows that any of their coworkers could turn around and see them, but he can’t bring himself to care.
“Thank you,” Mel whispers.
He dips his head down, pressing his cheek to her temple, and says, “Anything for you. Anytime.”
It feels like they’re the only ones on the roof, and she must feel like it too, because when the fireworks are over and everyone else starts walking to the doors, they both startle.
But she doesn’t move away from him immediately, leaning back and taking a breath like she’s savouring these last few moments together.
He follows her into the hospital a couple of seconds later and stands beside her in the elevator, making conversation with their coworkers who didn’t even realize they were on the roof.
She stays by his side as they walk through the ER, and when he crouches down to open his locker and get his bag, she says, “I’m going to change out of my scrubs.”
He tells her that he’s going to do the same, and then she’s off.
It only takes a few minutes to change his clothes, and he checks his phone while he waits for Mel by the lockers, not expecting anything from Abby but still feeling a little twinge of disappointment that she didn’t even send a photo of the kids watching fireworks.
He starts to wonder if she has already left before he got out now that he’s been waiting for almost ten minutes.
But then she comes around the corner, hair still down, wearing a shirt that says EARTH MY KIND OF FRIEND, and it makes him smile, recognizing the colour and realizing it’s what he’s seen peeking out from the neckline of her scrub top all day.
“Oh, you’re still here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
She shrugs, putting her bag over her shoulder, and says, “I’m used to being left.”
He doesn’t know what to say because he left her before, even though he didn’t mean to, and he can’t assure her it won’t ever happen again, especially after today.
Instead of trying to placate her, he asks, “Ready to go?”
She nods, and he mimics the motion, following her as she starts walking to the exit.
Neither of them says anything, they just head toward the staff parking lot, and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket after their hands brush.
“So,” she says, and he looks over at her, sees her clasping her hands in front of her as they walk. “Is this it?”
“What do you mean?”
She’s avoiding his gaze, staring straight ahead.
“Is this goodbye? Are you not coming back?”
He balks for a moment, mouth open but no words coming out, and he doesn’t know what to do.
She frowns and says, “You were wondering if you were ready to be back working in the ER.”
“I remember,” he says, because of course he does, because he’s still thinking about it, but he didn’t expect it to be affecting her too.
Then, he remembers what she told him in the breakroom when he was down, and he says, “It’s just a lot, being back where it all went wrong, and honestly, I’m scared.”
She nods, and even though she’s not looking at him, he can tell that she’s upset, that she thinks she’s losing him, and it hurts seeing her like this.
“But I’m not leaving.”
He doesn’t even realize he’s made up his mind until he says it, and he should talk about it with his therapist and his wife before deciding, but he knows now just from talking with Mel that this is what he needs to do.
It takes a few steps for him to realize she’s not walking beside him anymore, and he turns around, sees her standing there, beaming at him.
Then, she surges forward and hugs him, almost knocking them over as she throws her arms around his neck, and he loses his breath for a moment.
He pulls her closer with his hands on her back, fingers tangling in her hair, and she asks, “Is this OK?”
“Yes,” he says on an exhale.
He rests his cheek against her head, closing his eyes and swaying them back and forth.
She shifts just a tiny bit, but the movement causes her lips to brush against his neck, and he shudders, tightening his grip on her hair, and she gasps so quietly that he only hears it because there’s no space between them.
He doesn’t want to pull away because he wants her to know he’s not going anywhere, so he waits for her to step back, hands trailing down his chest before her arms fall to her sides.
It’s hard not to notice how at ease she is now, and it’s hard not to be pleased that he can do that for her.
“See you on Monday, right?”
He nods, and her smile is blinding when he says, “See you then, Mel.”
Frank watches as she walks away from him, strands of her hair dancing in the warm breeze, and she looks back when she reaches her car and waves at him, smiling but biting her lip.
He lifts his hand, dipping his head in acknowledgement, then she gets in her car and drives off.
It’s only when he’s home that night and about to go to sleep that he realizes he still has Mel’s hair tie on his wrist. His breath catches at the sight, and he fiddles with it for a moment before taking it off and putting it in the drawer of his nightstand.
But he can’t stop thinking about it, still feels the slight weight of it on his wrist until he falls asleep.
Becoming friends with Mel is easy, so easy that he doesn’t even realize when she goes from being a coworker to someone he can’t go a day without talking to.
He didn’t know it at the time, but a part of him thinks it goes back to her first shift ten months ago.
And the Fourth of July shift, with the way she grabbed his arm and how she trusted him with her sister and herself and her words of encouragement, put them on an intertwining path.
Now they talk at the lockers before shift, work on cases together even if the patients don’t need two doctors, take little breaks together in the ambulance bay or the stairwell or the breakroom, and wait for each other after shift to leave together.
He gives her his number so they can talk when they’re not on shift together.
And through it all, he can’t stop thinking about her hair, keeps going over what happened on the roof on the Fourth.
He starts to hover his hand where her braid rests on her back when he has to get around her in a patient room.
Then, he tugs on the end of her braid and swings it over her shoulder as he passes by her at the nurses’ station because it makes her laugh.
He pushes a few strands that fall out of her braid and into her face during procedures so she doesn’t have to.
And when he hugs him before they say goodbye after every shift they work together, he nuzzles his face into her hair.
It’s obvious that their coworkers notice, he sees the looks and hears the whispers, but he doesn’t care because all that matters is him and Mel.
He hasn’t called Mel in the weeks since he gave her his number and hasn’t really thought about it until now.
An agitated patient was flailing their arms, trying to push Mel away as she was assessing their wound and even after the hard shove to her abdomen, she wasn’t far enough away when the wound opened, blood going all over her.
She rushed out of the trauma bay as soon as the patient was stable, and he didn’t see her during hand off or at the lockers after shift like usual.
He walked out of the hospital alone, something he only does when Mel isn’t working, and thought about her the entire drive home.
So, after the kids are in bed and Abby is doing whatever it is she does these days to avoid spending time with him, he goes out to the front of the house and sits on the porch swing, slouching until the almost constant pain in his back eases a bit.
He taps Mel’s name in his contacts app and hovers over the call button for a moment before letting his thumb hit the screen.
It only takes two rings, and then he hears a quiet, “Hello?
“Mel, hi,” he says, sitting up straight at the sound of her voice, not expecting her to pick up because it’s late and he doesn’t call her. “It’s Frank. Uh, Frank Langdon. Dr. Langdon from PTMC.”
“I know who you are, Frank,” she says with a laugh.
His breath catches in his chest when she uses his first name, brain short-circuiting because she’s never done that before, and he huffs out a shaky breath as she continues talking.
“Even if I didn’t recognize your voice, you gave me your number a few weeks ago, and I saved it to my contacts.”
“Right,” he says, trying to ignore the flip in his stomach at her recognizing the sound of his voice. “I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t know.”
“I assume people don’t remember or recognize me, so I understand.”
“You don’t have to worry about that with me,” he says in a hurry, not wanting her to think he’d do that and hoping she knows how important she is to him.
“Back at you,” she says quietly.
It’s quiet for a moment, neither of them saying anything, and he just listens to her breathing, easing back on the porch swing.
“We didn’t get to talk after shift, and I just want to see how you’re doing.”
She tells him that she just got out of the shower because even though she rinsed off at the hospital, she didn’t feel clean, needed her own soap and her own towel.
It makes him smile, but then she says, “No bruising, so that’s good,” and his mouth opens as he tries not to picture her standing under the spray in the shower, looking down, hands trailing over her body to check for tenderness.
He clears his throat, mutters “Good, that’s good,” and runs his hand over his face.
“You were incredible with that patient today, didn’t falter for even a second and saved their life,” he says, needing to focus on something else.
“It’s not like I did it on my own,” she counters. “You were there too.”
“Don’t do that, Mel.”
“Do what?”
“You deserve the praise, just take it. Don’t try to pass it on to others.”
“I don’t do that because I think I don’t deserve it, I do it because we deserve it, we’re good together,” she says.
And then, after a beat, she continues with, “It’s always better when it’s both of us.”
“It is.”
He doesn’t know how long they’ve been talking for, but the sun has set, and the sky is dark and starry when she whispers his name.
“You OK?”
“I’m really tired.”
“Oh,” he says, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “Sorry for keeping you up, I’ll let you go.”
“No, wait, don’t hang up,” she says in a rush. “I don’t want to stop talking, but I might fall asleep. Can you stay on the phone until I do, or is that — do you have to get back to —”
“I can stay with you,” he says.
She lets out a breath like she was holding it in, waiting for him to blow her off.
“Talk about anything you want. Or we can just be quiet, and your breathing will lull me to sleep.”
That makes him laugh, and he starts talking, keeping his voice low.
He knows when she falls asleep a few minutes later, can hear the subtle shift in her breathing, but he doesn’t hang up right away, lets himself have this moment of peace. He closes his eyes, and it’s almost like she’s beside him, sleeping with her head on his shoulder.
He’s not looking for Mel when he goes to the breakroom, he actually needs water, but he’s wondering where she is because he hasn’t seen her in a little while.
“— on Saturday night,” he hears when he opens the door.
Mel starts to talk but trails off when she sees him come into the room, smiling and lifting her hand in a wave.
He waves, gaze shifting to Santos who’s sitting across from Mel at the table and looking between them, and goes to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and standing at the counter with his back to them.
“Are you in?”
“I’ll be there.”
He hears a knock on the table like the rap of knuckles, then Santos says, “Later,” and walks out, the door closing softly behind her.
“So,” he says now that they’re alone, turning around and leaning back against the counter. “Hot date on Saturday night?”
“What? No, I’m not dating anyone, I’ve never —” she cuts herself off with a squeak, and he stills.
He wants her to keep talking, wants to know what she was going to say, if she’s never been in a relationship or gone out on a date or been kissed. What if she’s never had — no, he tells himself, do not go there.
That’s something he can’t come back from.
But instead of finishing the sentence, she says, “It’s the end of Victoria’s ER rotation, so we’re going out on Saturday to celebrate.”
“That’s nice,” he says after a moment, trying to get out of his head.
“Oh, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you came too, I can ask though,” she says, assuming he’s feeling left out and not that he’s having an out-of-body experience because of her. “Do you want to come with me?”
She stands up like she’s going to rush out and ask right now, so he puts the water bottle down and holds his hands up to stop her.
“It’s OK, Mel,” he says with a smile, and she relaxes at his sincerity.
He hesitates for a moment, looking down, then says, “But you can call me if you need a ride home so you don’t have to take transit alone or pay for an Uber.”
“Really?”
It makes him look up, that disbelief, like nobody’s ever done anything for her before, taken care of her before, and she’s closer now, so close he could reach out and push her glasses up and brush her hair out of her face.
“Of course.”
She smiles and says, “That’s so nice, you’re so nice.”
“Well,” he says with a shrug, face heating from her praise. “You bring out the best in me.”
Her mouth opens like she’s going to say something, a tinge of red on her cheeks, and his mind is racing with the possibilities, but then the breakroom door opens, and Mel flinches at the sound.
He pushes off the counter, reaching for her, when a PA whose name he can’t remember walks in, says, “Sorry for interrupting,” and walks right back out.
“You OK?”
She nods, swaying forward, and he realizes he’s still reaching for her, fingertips almost touching her forearm, and that she’s moving toward his touch.
“I forgot where we were for a minute,” she says, looking down and then around the room before her gaze settles back on him.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says, letting his fingertips brush her skin before dropping his arm back to his side. “We should get back out there.”
Her hand latches onto where he touched her, and he loses his breath for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut, and over the buzzing in his ears, he hears, “Are you coming?”
She’s standing at the door when he opens his eyes, turning to look at him, and he says, “Right behind you.”
It’s not even 11 p.m. on Saturday when he feels his phone buzz twice in the pocket of his jeans.
He’s sitting at the banquet in the kitchen while Abby’s watching TV, and he’s reading a book Mel gave him, hand fiddling with the mug of coffee on the table in front of him.
There are two messages from Mel on the lockscreen when he takes out his phone, Hi! and then Frank!!, and he opens their conversation just as Calling you!!! gets delivered.
He smiles at the messages, shaking his head, and his phone vibrates in his hand with a call from her.
“Hello,” he says when he answers the call.
“Frank,” she says, almost whining, and it’s like a swarm of bees buzzing around him. “I need you.”
He hears Who the hell is Frank? in the background over the music of whatever bar or club they’re at, and he grips his phone, barely feeling where the edges dig into his skin because she sounds like that and she needs him.
It shouldn’t do anything to him, not when he has a wedding ring on his finger, not when he barely has to turn his head to see his wife.
He lowers his voice and says, “Yeah? Why do you need me?”
Even though he knows why she’s calling, knows why she’s saying that, he can’t help it.
“I need you to take me —” she hiccups, and he hears someone gasp in the background. “Take me home.”
He moves his phone away from his face, closes his eyes for a moment and whispers, “Fuck,” before he brings the phone back to his face and asks her where she is.
“Alright,” he says, a little breathless. “I’m coming.”
“I’m waiting,” she says, and he can tell she’s smiling. “See you soon.”
He waits for Mel to hang up, and then he goes to Abby, tells her that some of his coworkers need a ride home after a night of drinking, and he expects her to fight him on it, but she doesn’t even look away from the TV, just tells him it’s fine.
It only takes him fifteen minutes to get to the bar, even though the directions say the route takes half an hour.
He messages Mel when he pulls up, idling out front, and he fiddles with his wedding ring, runs his hand through his hair too many times while he waits for her.
The knock startles him, making him flinch, and he hears her laugh before he sees her.
“That was not funny,” he shouts, running his hand over his face, but he’s smiling, can’t help it when it comes to Mel.
He unlocks the doors, then turns his head when the passenger side opens, and he sees her, hair down and frizzy around her shoulders, smile wide, eyes sparkling.
“It was a little funny,” she says as she gets in the car.
When he doesn’t say anything, just sits there staring at her with his mouth open, she looks over at him and asks, “Are you OK?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “Are you OK? Why do you want to go home?”
He passes his phone to her so she can put her address in to get directions, careful not to let their hands touch.
“I had a few drinks and my head was hurting and it was really loud. I was having fun, and I liked being out with friends, but it was a lot, so I just wanted to be out of there.”
“Well, I’ve got you,” he says and pulls the car away from the curb and into traffic.
She tells him about the night while he drives, and he doesn’t know if she notices, but he drives slowly, misses a few turns, and stops at yellow lights when he’d usually speed through to avoid the red.
Even though he wants to spend more time with her, she’s getting quieter in the passenger seat like she’s falling asleep, so he takes a last turn onto her street and stops outside of her townhouse.
There’s a soft glow in one of the windows, and it makes him wonder if she left the light on for herself so she wouldn’t feel alone when she got home, and the thought cracks something open inside of him.
“Mel,” he says, not knowing if he’s going to tell her that she’s home or ask if he can go in with her.
She hums and turns to him, some of her hair falling in her face with the movement, and before he can talk himself out of it, he tucks the strands behind her ear, hand trailing against her jaw, a featherlight touch, and her breath catches.
His hand lingers for a few seconds, and he can’t look away from her, gaze dropping to where he’s touching her just as her lips part and brush against his hand.
He pulls back from her but lifts his gaze to her eyes, and he feels like he can’t breathe with the way she’s watching him so intently, like he’ll disappear if she looks away.
Then she leans toward him, and he wonders if she’s going to kiss him, if she’s just drunk enough to not care that he’s married, but she lifts her hand to his face for a moment, barely touching him, before she runs her hand through his hair.
His mouth falls open as he gasps, and he watches as her eyes follow the movement of her hand, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
She meets his gaze and her cheeks redden at the look on his face, and she moves her hand away slowly, resting it on her thigh, fingers digging into her skin.
“I should go,” she says, voice shaky, and then she turns away from him, opens the car door and gets out.
When she walks up the steps, she doesn’t turn around to wave goodbye or even look at him, just unlocks the door and goes inside, and he drops his head to the steering wheel, cursing under his breath.
He texts her in the morning, typing out four messages and deleting them all until he settles on, Hope you’re feeling alright. Call if you need anything, OK?
It’s early, so he doesn’t expect her to reply, but his message goes from Delivered to Read instantly, like she had their thread open already, like she was about to text him or was reading back through their conversations.
I’m good, she replies, and then a moment later, But thank you for the offer and for last night.
Three dots appear and disappear on her side of the conversation, and he waits for a minute before he sends, You know I’d do anything for you.
He swipes out of the app and locks his phone, putting it on the nightstand, and then turns onto his back, pressing his head back into the pillow.
Abby is still sleeping beside him, and he stares at the ceiling, mind racing and replaying everything that happened last night.
Nothing really changes with them, but it’s different now, and there’s something just under the surface that he can’t let himself think about, and he thinks she knows it too.
A few days after what he refers to in his head as That Night, her hair tie breaks at work, the plaits of braid loosening without it, and he offers her the one he keeps on his wrist.
She hesitates, doesn’t take it from him right away, and he has to tell her it’s OK, that she needs it and can take it.
He notices her fiddling with it throughout the day, bringing the braid over her shoulder and looking at it, the black band a stark contrast to her blonde hair. Despite that, she doesn’t give it back to him when they’re at the lockers getting ready to leave or when they’re walking to their cars.
And when she hugs him, just like she has every night after their shift and before they go their separate ways for months now, there’s a distance.
Then, a few weeks later, he goes to touch her braid when he walks past her as she looks up at the patient board, but he realizes that everyone in the ER can see him, and while he didn’t care before, he views it differently now, knowing that the line is kind of blurry.
He pulls his hand away, the quick movement dislodging his ring, and it clatters to the hospital floor.
Mel turns at the sound, noticing him and then looking down when he curses and crouches to try and grab it, but the ring spins away from him and settles right where she’s standing.
She leans down to grab it just as he reaches for it, her hand getting there first, and his fingers brush against her hand, a spark of electricity running through him.
“Oh,” she says at the touch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see that you were — um, here.”
He follows her hand as she lifts it, the ring between her thumb and forefinger, and holds it out to him. He takes it back, gaze stuck on the ring, then stands up, and she mimics the movement.
“You should get that resized or leave it in your locker before your shift.”
His head snaps up to her, and he just stares, not knowing what to say to that. It’s never quiet in the ER, but there’s a noticeable almost silence, and he knows that’s because of them.
She clasps her hands at her abdomen, scrub top getting caught in her grip, and asks, “Because you wouldn’t want to lose it, right?”
All he can think is that he does want to lose it, just to see if his wife would even care, just because he needs to do something to start a conversation or cause an argument, anything that would make him not feel like a ghost in his marriage, in his life outside of the hospital.
But he can’t say that, not to Mel, especially not at work.
“Sorry, that’s none of my business, I don’t know why I —”
“No, it’s OK, you’re right,” he says quickly, her unease snapping him out of it. “Thanks, Mel.
She nods, murmurs something about taking the headache in North 4, then walks away. He looks down at his hand without the ring and hesitates before putting it back on with a sigh.
And the sight of her holding his ring haunts him for weeks.
He finds her standing in front of her open locker, staring into the distance, so out of it that she doesn’t hear him call her name.
And she doesn’t realize he’s there until he’s at her side, his hand hovering over her back.
She turns her head, takes a shaky breath, then crashes into his chest and starts crying.
He wraps his arms around her and holds her close, whispers that it’s going to be OK until she calms down enough to speak.
“I can’t be here right now, but I — I don’t —”
He slowly pulls away from her, moving his hands to her arms and dipping his head down to look her in the eyes.
“Do you want me to take you home?”
“Please.”
He squeezes her arms, and she wipes the tears off her cheeks, sniffling a little.
“Get your jacket and your bag, and we’ll go, alright?”
She nods, and he turns her toward her locker before going to his and putting his jacket on, zipping it up all the way, then slinging his bag over his shoulder.
It’s not even the end of their shift, but he doesn’t care, and he knows nobody else will care if Mel goes home early after everything she’s been through today.
When he’s ready to go, she’s staring again, only able to keep it together long enough to put on her jacket, and he has to go over to her, take her scarf off the hook in her locker and put it on her, grabbing her bag and holding it for her.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
He closes her locker, but she doesn’t move, so he puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her out of the hospital. It’s cold but not snowing anymore, and she presses closer to him, wrapping her arms around herself until they get to his car.
She’s quiet in the drive, head against the window, staring at the city as it passes by, and he looks over at her every few seconds, an ache in his chest and a desire to fix it for her even though he knows he can’t.
They’re almost at her place when she sits up and says, “Wait, my car is in the parking lot at the hospital.”
He looks over, sees her wringing her hands together, and hears her mumbling something under her breath.
“Mel, hey, look at me,” he says, quickly checking the road before meeting her gaze. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll go back and get your car tomorrow.”
She stills, then nods and leans back in the passenger seat, turning her head to look out the window again.
When he gets to her townhouse, he parks on the street and gets out of the car, grabbing their bags from the backseat and going around to open the door for her.
“C’mon, it’s cold, let’s go in,” he says, holding out his hand.
She takes it, squeezing him tightly, and they go up the steps to the front door, and when she fumbles with the keys after taking them out of her jacket pocket, he takes them from her and unlocks the door.
It’s warm, that’s the first thing he notices, and it’s dark except for the soft glow of a lamp, but he can already see just how Mel this place is, and he knows now that he’ll be here whenever she lets him because it just feels like home.
“I need to shower,” she says, and he turns his attention to her, notices that she’s out of her jacket, her boots off and by the door, and standing with her arms crossed, hands gripping her scrub top.
Then she looks down, shakes her head, and says, “Can you stay?”
“Go, take your time,” he says, taking off his jacket and hanging it next to hers. “I’ll be here.”
She whispers something that he doesn’t hear and then walks away, disappearing down a hallway that he assumes leads to her bedroom and the bathroom.
He wanders further into her place, looking at the books and the trinkets and the photos she has, and doesn’t know what to do with himself while he waits for her. He goes to sit on the couch but remembers he’s still in his scrubs, so he gets his bag from where he left it at the door and changes into the clean sweatpants and t-shirt he keeps in there.
“Frank,” he hears a few minutes later, and he puts his phone down on the table, getting up from the couch. “Can you come here?”
He follows the sound of her voice down the hallway to her pokes his head around the doorframe, heart thundering in his chest when he sees her sitting on her bed in a tank top and sleep shorts, hair around her shoulders, still a bit wet.
“You OK?”
He lingers in the doorway, not sure if she wants him to come into her room or if she just wants to see him so she can tell him that he doesn’t need to be here anymore.
“I will be,” she says and fiddles with the hair tie on her wrist for a moment before taking it off. “I can’t stop thinking about those patients, and I need a distraction. Can you braid my hair?”
He swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and he takes a hesitant step into her room, gaze catching on all the details of her life he’s never seen before, then he takes a grounding breath and walks over to her, getting on the bed.
She shifts so her back is to him, her legs tucked under her, and he gets on his knees, sitting back on his haunches and moving closer, his thighs bracketing her hips, close but not touching.
It’s quiet with just the two of them in the house and the sounds of the city beyond it dampened by the snow, so he can hear every hitch in her breath, every hum, every sigh as he works his fingers through her hair slowly, gently.
His finger gets caught in a knot as he’s braiding, and it tugs on her hair, her head tilting back with the force of it, and she moans, making his head spin.
All he can hear now is static, and he thinks he might pass out, so he focuses on braiding her hair instead of the sounds she’s making, the way she’s squirming.
He holds out his hand for the hair tie, not trusting himself to speak, and she places it in his hand, fingers brushing against his palm, and he shivers as he ties off the braid, looping it so the ends don’t drip down her back.
When he’s done, she tilts her head back against his shoulder, and it reminds him of that night on the roof of the hospital, watching the fireworks, the intimacy of such a simple moment.
He leans down, breathing against her neck for a moment, heart racing, and then she whimpers, and he presses his lips there, a soft kiss just below her jaw.
She puts her hands on his thighs, just above his knees, her thumbs moving in slow circles, and he resists the urge to thrust his hips, grind his hardening cock against her ass.
“Mel,” he whispers.
She hums but doesn’t say anything, just keeps touching him and shifting her hips like she’s trying to get herself off.
“Mel, sweetheart, what’s going on?”
“I — I don’t know, I just —”
“C’mon, talk to me,” he says.
“I just need something, it’s too much,” she whispers, hands squeezing his thighs. “I need you.”
He lets out a shaky breath, and he puts his hands over hers, presses another gentle kiss to her neck and moves his mouth to her ear, tells her to lie on the bed.
She moves slowly, like she thinks any sudden movement will break the spell, make him come to his senses, but he knows that won’t happen.
As she gets onto her back and rests her head on the pillow, he looks down at his hands, sees his wedding ring and contemplates taking it off. But that would make this real, and she just needs him to help her, needs a friend, someone she trusts.
He crawls up the bed and settles on his side next to her, and trails his hand along her arm, across her collarbone, and back again, making her shiver.
“I want you to touch yourself,” he says, dipping his head down to whisper in her ear. “Can you do that for me?”
She nods, biting her lip as she lifts her hand, but he grabs her wrist before she can move, brings her hand up and sucks her fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them.
He watches her as she watches him lap at her fingers, mouth open, chest heaving with every breath.
Then he pops her fingers out of his mouth and says, “There you go.”
She whimpers and moves her hand under her shorts, head dropping back when her fingers, wet with his spit, touch her clit.
“What do you think about? When you’re alone and touching yourself?”
“I can’t —”
“Say it.”
“You. I think about you and your eyes and your hands and your, fuck, your mouth. All I’ve been able to think about since that first shift back is you b—because you’re so nice to me.”
He drops his forehead to her shoulder and takes a shaky breath, resisting the urge to grind his erection against her hip, and listens to her breathing and the sound of her fingers sliding through her wetness.
“Frank,” she whines, bending her knees and planting her feet on the bed to give herself better leverage.
“I’m right here.”
He lifts his head, and she turns to look at him, her cheeks red, gaze flitting all over his face. He puts his hand on her forearm, muscles twitching under his touch and from the movement of her fingers.
“I need you, please, I need —” she cuts herself off with a moan, hips thrusting against her hand, and he trails his hand down her arm until he reaches the waistband of her shorts, and then he slips under.
He puts his hand over hers and starts moving his fingers with hers, quick circles on her clit, and his hand is so much bigger than hers that it makes him dizzy.
It only takes a few more circles for her to come with a gasp, reaching over with her other hand to grab onto his wrist and still his movements while she thrusts against their fingers, squeezing her thighs around them.
He lifts his gaze to look at her, head thrown back and mouth open as she moans, little babbles in between, and his fingers slip through hers, grazing her opening, and she whines, cunt pulsing against his fingers.
And then she opens her legs and lets go of his wrist to grab at his back, nails digging into his skin, and says, “I need you on top of me, need your weight.”
He shifts, taking his hand out of her shorts so he can swing one of his legs over hers and put his forearms on the bed right beside her head, resting his body over hers and watching as she breathes through it.
When she opens her eyes after a minute, blinking as she adjusts to the light, he says, “Hi.”
“Hi,” she says, huffing out a breath.
“You OK?”
“I’m more than OK.”
She smiles, leaning her head back against the pillow, and he laughs, reaching over to brush his thumb over her cheek. He thinks that’s it, that she just needed to take the edge off and she’s good now, but she shifts under him and whines when her cunt drags across his leg, even through the fabric.
He dips his head down, brushing his nose against hers, and asks, “Need a bit more?”
It’s a mistake, a headfirst dive over the line, because he should go home, get into bed next to his wife and not think about the sounds Mel makes when she comes.
But he can’t deny her, can’t leave her if she needs him.
She nods, and he moves down her body, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her shorts and pulling them down her legs. She kicks them off, nearly hitting him in the face, and she reaches for him, apologizing, but he just laughs and puts her legs over his shoulders as he settles on the bed.
He lets out a shaky exhale against her cunt, making her shiver, and swipes his thumb through her folds, smirking when she gasps. He watches as her cunt clenches, squeezing down on nothing, and he can’t tease her anymore.
“Oh, fuck,” she whispers as he laps at her cunt, her hips moving in little circles, chasing his tongue.
He wraps his arm around her hip, putting his palm flat on her abdomen and pressing down to keep her steady, and he closes his lips around her clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth.
She moans, and he looks up and sees her hands gripping the hem of her tank top like she’s going to take it off, but her hands move up to her breasts, tweaking her nipples through the fabric.
It makes him grind onto the bed helplessly, desperately.
Then, she says, “Wait, hold on,” and he lifts his head, gut twisting, thinking she saw his hips moving against the bed and doesn’t want him to make it about himself, or she doesn’t like what he’s doing to her.
“Not good?”
“No, that’s not — it’s so good, you’re so good. I just need to tell you something,” she says. “Can you come here?”
He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and crawls up so he can lie on his side next to her, putting a comforting hand on her hip, and she grabs at it, lacing their fingers together.
“I’ve been taking care of others for so long, and I’ve missed out on so much, it’s — there’s a huge gap in my life,” she says, voice cracking. “Because I don’t let anyone get close, nobody really wants to get close. Except for you.”
There’s so much he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to cut her off, not when she’s opening up like this.
“I’ve never done any of this before,” she says, motioning between them. “I never even thought about having sex.”
He takes a steadying breath, hoping he’s not reading this wrong, and asks, “And now?”
“I want it,” she says. “I want it with you.”
It’s like time stops, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second to get a grip on his thoughts, but all he can focus on is that she’s never wanted anyone but him.
When he opens his eyes, she’s staring up at the ceiling, both hands gripping her tank top now, and he says her name to get her gaze on him.
“I want to take care of you.”
The tension in her hands eases at his words, and she reaches up to touch his face, hand gently resting on his jaw, thumb dipping into the dimple on his chin.
“Have you ever been kissed?”
She shakes her head, biting her lip, and he moves so he’s hovering over her, knees bracketing her hips, hands beside her head, and wets his lips, heat spreading through his chest because he’s going to be her first everything.
He leans down to brush his lips against hers, breath hitching, and keeps it gentle, not wanting to overwhelm her.
But she whines when he pulls away, and he smiles, shaking his head, and says, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
Then, he puts his thumb on her chin, pressing down and parting her lips so he can lick into her mouth when he kisses her. She moans as their tongues meet in a wet slide, grabbing onto his bicep, and he’s taken back to that first shift, the first time she touched him.
He lets himself get lost in it for a moment before remembering what he needs to do for her, and he breaks the kiss, moving back, as she chases after his lips.
And he lets her press her lips to his, but says, “I need to get you ready to take my cock, yeah?”
That makes her moan, and he smirks, pushing up on his hands so he can sit back and rearrange her on the bed, legs bent and brushing his sides, hips tilted up.
He taps a finger to her lips, wanting her to get it wet, and she grabs onto his hand, putting three into her mouth, lapping at them.
“Jesus,” he mutters and presses his fingers down on her tongue, drawing another moan from her, then easing the pressure.
She doesn’t stop, keeps sucking his fingers like she could do it all night, and he has to pull his hand away, or else he’ll come in his pants before he can fuck her.
Her breathing is heavy, eyes wide and flitting over his face, searching for something.
“You did so good, baby.”
She whimpers, and he wonders if it’s the praise or the gentle baby that’s doing it for her.
“Ready?”
“Yes,” she says, quiet but assured.
He brushes his knuckles over her clit just to watch her squirm and then slides a finger into her cunt, keeping his thrusts slow until the tension in her body eases.
“More, please,” she says after a moment, moving her hips like she’s trying to get closer to him.
He says, “So polite,” and gives her a second, then a third finger, the wet sounds coming from her cunt making him desperate.
“It’s —” she cuts herself off with a moan, head tilting back. “It’s never been like this.”
He stills his hand, trying to steady his breathing and the beat of his heart, letting her feel how full she is, and rubs his thumb on her clit.
She’s hypnotizing, and it’s like he’s in a haze as he drags his gaze over her body from where he’s touching her to her face, cheeks red, mouth open.
He palms his cock through his pants, watching her as he does, and then he freezes, mind catching up to what they’re about to do, and says, “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”
“I don’t care,” she says, sitting up and leaning back on her elbows.
“Mel.”
“Are you fucking her?”
He sputters for a second, and she tilts her head to the side, and he rushes to say, “No, it’s been more than a year, since before I went to rehab the first time.”
“I want to know what it’s like to feel you. Don’t you want to give me what I want?”
He gives her a few more slow thrusts, crooking his fingers on each slide in, then pulls out, putting his hand on her hip and smearing her arousal on her skin.
He crawls over her to brush their lips together and whispers, “I’ll give you anything, everything, OK?”
She smiles, humming contentedly, and tells him that she read up on this, and he smiles too because, of course, she did.
But then she says, “I don’t know what I’m doing, though, so you have to teach me,” and his mouth opens, breath catching in his chest.
He sits up and pulls her up with him so they’re both on their knees, grabbing the hem of her tank top and pushing it up until he can take it off.
It makes her braid fall over her shoulder, and he runs his hand down the plait, knuckles brushing against her breast. He moves his other hand up her body, the cold band of his wedding ring pressing into her ribcage, just below her breast, as he tweaks her nipples.
“Frank,” she whines, grabbing his shirt and bunching it up at his abdomen, trying to spur him on, and he knows she’s been waiting for this, but he’s been waiting for it too, even if he couldn’t admit it.
“Can’t help it,” he says quietly, dropping his forehead to hers for a moment. “You deserve it. God, look at you.”
And what he doesn’t say is that he can’t help but take his time because this is the only time he’ll get to have her like this.
He lets her push his shirt up, though and pulls back from her to take it off, hearing her breathless finally when she sees his bare chest.
She sits back on her haunches as he takes off his pants and his boxer briefs, and he watches the way she’s looking at him, eyes roving over his body, while her hands grip her thighs.
Then, she grabs onto his arms, hands grappling at his biceps and pulls him down to the bed with her, every part of their bodies touching, and he groans.
“Hi,” she says with a smile and rolls them over so she’s straddling him, sitting up with both hands on his chest.
Not to be outdone, he wraps an arm around her waist and uses the other to push himself up and scooch them up the bed until he’s leaning back against the headboard.
She grabs onto his shoulders as he moves and says, “You’re so strong,” then trails her hands down his arms.
“You can’t say things like that, I’ve already got an ego.”
That makes her smile, and she sits back on his legs, reaching between them to grab his cock, the touch tentative but earth-shattering.
He keeps his eyes on her until she looks down, and then he drops his gaze too, taking a deep breath at the sight.
It’s a miracle that his voice isn’t shaky when he asks, “Need help?”
“Please,” she says as she moves her hand, stroking him tentatively. “Is this OK?”
He hums, lifting his hips slightly just to see her reaction, and he almost loses it when her grip tightens like she never wants to let go of him.
“Spit on it,” he says, trying to focus on teaching her so he doesn’t come from a few gentle strokes.
There’s a little squeak in her voice when she says, “What?”
“It’s better like that. Just trust me, alright?”
Her mouth opens, but all she does is let out a shaky breath and lift her head to meet his gaze.
“Or I can do it for you this time,” he says, moving his hands to her hips, giving her a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He puts his hands on hers over his cock, sliding them down to the base and holding steady, then leans forward to spit, letting his saliva trickle down. She whimpers as he does it, and he says a little breathlessly, “That does it for you?”
She nods eagerly, and he guides her movements over his cock, spreading his spit up and down the shaft, nudging her thumb to swipe at the head and smear the precome.
She sits up on her knees, lining herself up with his cock, and he tells her to go slow before she starts to sink down on him.
He moves his hands to her hips again, rubs them up and down her thighs as she takes all of him.
“Fuck, Mel,” he says when her cunt clenches around his cock.
Her head tilts back, a shaky breath escapes her, and he caresses her thighs for a moment before he moves his hands to help her lift her hips and sink back down a few times.
But she doesn’t last long, settling on his lap, his cock fully sheathed inside her.
“Sorry, I didn’t know it would be this much work,” she says.
“It’s OK,” he says, leaning up to kiss her. “I’ll take care of you.”
He starts moving her hips in a slow grind, back and forth, his cock barely moving in and out of her, but every thrust forward brushes her clit against his body. She puts her palms flat on his chest and moans at the sensation, and he says, “Just like that.”
He can tell that she’s close, feel it with every shift of her hips, squeeze of her cunt, hitch in her breathing, so he moves a hand from her hips up her back until his fingers reach her braid.
She whimpers, and he grabs onto it, wrapping the plait around his fist, and her hips buck as he starts guiding her faster.
“You like that, huh?”
All she does is nod, biting her lip, and he tugs on her hair, making her moan, his abdomen and legs soaking with her arousal now.
He thinks back to when he was braiding her hair earlier, and asks, “Do you get like this whenever I touch your hair?”
“Yes,” she says, and he hums, wondering how far that goes.
“Even at work?”
She drops her head, huffing out a breath, and he pulls her braid, tilting her head back up and making her look at him.
At his raised eyebrows, she says, “Yes, yes, fuck.”
“Good,” he says with a smile, and he won’t let himself think about it after he leaves tonight, but he basks in the feeling now.
“Please, Frank, I’m so —”
“I got you,” he says, then pulls her hair to tip her head back, and he leans in to kiss her neck right below her jawline, sucking on the spot until it leaves a mark.
She doesn’t need him to guide her hips anymore, grinding against him all on her own, but he keeps his hand on her, a reassuring touch, and moves his mouth down her neck.
It makes her back arch, and he dips his head down to wrap his lips around her nipple, grazing his teeth against the bud.
And then she comes, moaning loudly, cunt pulsating on his cock, thighs squeezing his hips, and he knows he’ll dream about this, the way she whines for him, says his name.
She falls into him, resting her head on his shoulders, breath fanning his neck as she rides it out, still grinding her hips against him.
He lets go of her braid so he can get both hands on her waist and pull her closer as her thrusts slow, whispering in her ear.
“That’s it, so good, Mel,” he says, and she claws at his chest like she’s trying to get inside his ribcage. “I’m here, I’m right here.”
She shifts, thighs spreading as she comes down, and it makes his cock sink deeper inside her, a moan getting trapped in his throat at the wet slide of her cunt around him.
Then, she lifts her head from his shoulder and pushes back on his chest so she’s looking at him, and says, “You didn’t come.”
“It’s OK, this is about you, Mel, don’t worry about it,” he says, trying not to move his hips.
“But I want it,” she says, and he opens his mouth, but no words come out. “I want you to come, want to make you come, want to feel it inside of me.”
He doesn’t even have time to let that echo in his mind, send him into a spiral, because she lifts off him, his cock slapping against his abdomen, then gets on her stomach on the bed beside him.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters at the sight of her.
She holds herself up on her elbows and turns her head to look at him, braid falling from her back over her shoulder, and says, “I can’t come again, but I like being like this, so maybe that will make it good for you too?”
He nods, and that makes her smile, spreading her legs a bit before he gets on top of her, and he brackets her thighs with his legs, stroking himself a few times. She shifts her hips, trying to get closer to his cock, and he shakes his head fondly.
“So needy.”
It sounds like she says, “Only for you,” but it’s a breathy whisper, and he’s having trouble hearing over the ringing in his ears when she settles down on the bed, head turned to the side so she can look over her shoulder at him.
He moves the head of his cock through her folds, once, twice, then slides into her, hand brushing her as he buries his entire shaft inside, and he has to take a moment to focus on his breathing, the warm wet squeeze of her cunt overwhelming him.
He lifts both arms and runs his hands through his hair, looking up at the ceiling and tugging on the strands to distract himself because even though she wants him to come, he’s not ready for this to be over.
She hums and says, “I think about riding your face and doing that.”
“Fuck,” he says, dropping his hands to her ass and squeezing, hips thrusting mindlessly.
She moans and begs him to do that again, so he pulls out until she’s clenching around just the tip and smacks her ass as he thrusts into her, watching her squirm as he fucks her.
He puts one hand beside her on the bed and leans over, grabs onto her braid with the other, and holds it loosely, not giving her what she wants yet.
“Tell me it’s good, please, tell me I’m good.”
“You’re so good, baby, my best girl,” he says, pulling her braid to lift her head off the pillow so she’s closer.
That makes her cunt clench, and she grinds against the bed with every hard thrust he gives her, and he knows she’s close, can’t believe he knows her body this well already.
It’s intoxicating, and he tightens his grip on her hair, squeezing her ass at the same time.
“And you thought you weren’t going to come again,” he whispers, lips brushing her ear with every word. “But you had to be good for me, yeah?”
She whimpers, and with another tug on her braid, she’s coming, almost screaming out as he fucks her through it, and he slows his thrusts until the bucking of her hips is what’s moving them.
He watches as she closes her eyes, tears falling down her cheeks.
“I love you,” she says, repeating it until it’s iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou.
The words slam into his chest, and it’s like he can’t breathe, finally unlocking something that he’s been hiding for months, from everyone, from himself.
And he doesn’t care if she doesn’t mean it, there’s no going back for him now because he loves her, and it’s the best part of him.
He whispers her name, desperate to see her, so he pulls out and turns her over, heart racing as she smiles up at him.
“You going to come for me?”
He drops his head to his chest, giving his cock, wet with her arousal, a few slow strokes, and says, “Yeah, baby.”
That makes her beam, and she arches her back, shifting her hips, and he bottoms out with a single thrust, draping himself on top of her.
She wraps her arms around him, nails digging into his back as he thrusts faster and faster, chasing it. He presses his cheek to hers, letting his tears fall, wetting their skin as she says, “Please, give it to me.”
His thrusts stutter at her words, and he comes, spilling inside her, choking out a moan.
He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to come down, but when he does, Mel is running her hand up and down her back, and he pushes up on his forearms to look at her in complete awe.
Then, he slowly pulls out of her, and she makes a noise, almost a whine like she doesn’t want him to move, and he apologizes before settling beside her on the bed.
He reaches down to swipe his fingers through her folds, gathering the come that’s dripping out of her cunt, and he brings it up to his mouth, lapping it up, then he puts his hand on her waist, watching the spot where he gently rubs circles on her skin with his thumb.
“It’s OK if you didn’t mean it, if you just got caught up in the moment,” he says quietly, wanting to give her an out but still bracing for the heartbreak of her taking it back.
She’s quiet for a moment, and he takes a deep breath, holds it so he has something to focus on that isn’t how much her silence is killing him.
Then, in barely a whisper, she says, “What if I did mean it?”
He lifts his gaze, expecting her to be looking away, but she’s watching him, and he might cry because he never thought she’d want him, let alone love him.
“Well, then, I’d tell you that I love you too.”
She reaches for him, puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls him down for a kiss.
“Do you have to go home?”
“No,” he says, not needing to think about it for a second.
“You should stay,” she says, and then a bit quieter, she adds, “If you want.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be, sweetheart,” he says, brushing the tendrils of hair that have come out of her braid off her face.
He lets himself stay in the moment for a few minutes, just looking at her, feeling her, but when she shivers, the sweat cooling on her skin, he asks if she wants to go to the bathroom first, and she tells him that he can come with her.
“Look at us,” he says, pushing himself off her and sitting beside her on the bed. “We’re already so codependent.”
That makes her laugh as she gets up, and she says, “I think we’ve been codependent since we met.”
She holds out her hand, and he grabs it, getting out of bed and following her to the bathroom.
He can’t remember the last time he was this happy, and he wants to give Mel everything, all the things she’s never gotten to do, never even thought about. So, he puts his hands on her hips once they’re in the bathroom and turns her around to him, dropping to his knees and swiping his tongue through her folds.
She staggers back into the edge of the vanity and gasps when he flattens his tongue against her clit, hands grabbing onto the counter behind her.
“What are you doing?”
He pulls away, only far enough so she can hear him but still feel his mouth on her when he says, “Just cleaning you up and getting you ready for bed.”
“You’re a menace,” she says breathlessly, and he smirks, puts his hands on the vanity on either side of her and kisses up her abdomen to her chest as he stands.
He gives her a quick kiss on the lips before putting his hands on her hips and spinning her around and hugging her from behind, looking in the mirror at the way their bodies fit together.
There’s an ease with Mel, even in a situation like this that they’ve never been in before, that he doesn’t have with anyone else as they move around each other in the bathroom, washing up and getting ready to go to sleep.
When they’re back in her room, she grabs his t-shirt from the bed and puts it on along with her sleep shorts, and the sight of her in his clothing makes his chest ache in the best way.
He puts on his sweatpants as she gets into bed, and then he does the same, turning off the lamp on her bedside table.
“I’ve never done this before,” she says quietly as she settles under the sheets. “Shared a bed with someone like this.”
“A night of firsts, huh?”
That makes her laugh, and he turns onto his side, facing her, trying to see her in the dark, only a bit of light coming through the curtains from the streetlight.
She moves closer to him, letting her hand rest on his chest, right over his heart.
“Goodnight, Mel,” he whispers, brushing his lips against the corner of his mouth, and she puts her hand on his jaw, moving his head so she can kiss him.
She hums and pulls back so she can say, “Goodnight.”
It takes a second for him to remember where he is when he wakes up.
He blinks his eyes open, adjusting to the morning light, and he sees her, feels her, and lets out a shaky breath when it all comes back to him. She’s lying on her stomach, knee bent and leg hitched up, and he’s almost completely on top of her, an arm around her waist, hand between her stomach and the bed.
“Morning,” she says, voice raspy from sleep.
He hums and moves his hand under her — his — shirt, caressing the soft skin, and she arches into him. He presses kisses on her shoulder and up her neck while she mumbles, and he’s not sure she even realizes that she’s talking.
He teases her a bit, straying closer and closer but never going underneath her sleep shorts, and then she whines and says, “I need you to touch me.”
“I’m already touching you,” he says, squeezing her belly softly.
She shifts back, pressing her ass into his hips, right against his cock that’s already half hard, and he groans, tightening his grip on her.
“You know what I mean.”
“I know, baby,” he says, sliding his hand down to her cunt, giving her what she wants, fucking two fingers into her slowly.
Her hips shift back, and she loses her breath, so he asks, “You OK?”
“Just a little sore.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, moving to slide his fingers out, but she reaches down and grabs his hand to keep him there. “We don’t have to.”
“No, don’t stop, I like it.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, and she starts circling her hips.
The movement makes his palm grind against her clit, and she clenches on his fingers, says, “Just like that,” on an exhale.
It seems like he’s only been touching her for a few seconds when she tilts her head back against his chest, moaning like she’s about to come, and he wonders if she was dreaming about them, getting wet while she slept.
He dips his head down and whispers, “Already?”
She just nods, unable to do anything but moan and then she comes, squeezing her thighs, soaking his hand, and he’s desperate to taste her, but she moves her hand to his wrist and pulls his hand out of her shorts, clutching his arm to her chest.
And then she laps at his fingers, licking her arousal off him before putting them in her mouth and sucking. His hips thrust helplessly, cock dragging against her ass.
“Not fair, I wanted a taste,” he says, a little petulant.
She pulls his fingers out of her mouth and turns in his arms, his hand, wet from her saliva now, dropping to her waist. She lets her hand trail down his chest until it brushes against his hard on, making his hips twitch, and she smiles, pushing him onto his back, tossing the sheets off them so she can sit up.
Then, she takes off his shirt, and he groans as she undoes her braid, hair falling over her breasts, and she laughs, making him smile, but then she shifts so she can take his pants and her shorts off.
She straddles him, putting her hands on his abdomen, nails following the trail of dark hair, and starts grinding on him, cock sliding through her wetness, and he gasps.
“Fuck,” she mutters when the head nudges her clit.
“Mel, oh my God,” he says, putting his hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“I want to taste both of us when I get my mouth on you,” she explains, matter-of-factly, like she’s going through a course of treatment with a patient, and his brain short-circuits.
She puts her hands over his on her hips, lacing their fingers together, and says, “Let me take care of you now.”
It’s like he’s in a haze, watching her move down his body and settle between his legs, then she trails a finger down the shaft of his cock, making him twitch.
He squeezes his eyes shut when she flattens her tongue and licks a stripe up the length of him, tongue lapping at the head.
But he needs to see her, so he opens his eyes, tilts his head down and keeps his gaze on her as she focuses on what she’s doing. It’s so endearing that he’s glad he already told her he loves her because if he hadn’t, he’d be blurting it out right now.
He reaches out but stops, lets his hand hover near her, but not touching.
She looks up from his cock when she notices the movement, and asks, “What? You want to grab my hair?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“Do it,” she says. “Guide me.”
And that’s all he needs to bury his hands in her hair, telling her to grab onto the base of his cock and take him in her mouth. He moves her up and down the shaft, not letting himself go too deep, but telling her to follow her mouth with her hand.
His hips buck at the slick glide of her hand, cock slipping further in her mouth, almost gagging her, and he knows he’s done for, so he grips her hair hard and says, “I’m close, Mel, fuck, I’m so close.”
But she doesn’t stop, just keeps bobbing her head without his guidance, and he pulls her off just as he releases, coming all over her lips, and her chest is heaving, eyes wild.
It makes him see stars, his head spinning, ears ringing, and he feels like he’s floating above his body.
But then Mel crawls over him and lies down at his side, her touch bringing him back down, and he turns his head to her, his arm reaching over so he can put his hand on the back of her head and bring her in for a kiss, licking his come off her lips.
She hooks her leg over his, cunt dragging against his thigh, leaving a trail of wetness with each thrust, and he whispers, “Give me another, baby,” and then she comes with a gasp, her thighs shaking.
Her head drops to his chest, and he moves his hand from the back of her head, down her braid, and he tugs gently, making her squeak, hips thrusting again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers when she lifts her head, looking up at him.
She moves her hand from his chest to his face, her thumb brushing the beauty mark over his eyebrow.
“Mel, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“And I want to be with you,” he says. “I want to go to the grocery store with you and hold your hand and fall asleep next to you and introduce you to my kids.”
She lifts her head at that and says, “R—really?”
“I want a life with you and —”
And her lips are on his before he can say anything else.
He puts his hands on her face and moves her back a bit, unable to resist another quick kiss, and then he tucks her hair behind her ears.
“It’s OK if you don’t want that or if you don’t know what you want,” he explains. “This is a lot, and you’re just coming into your own, and I don’t want to ruin that for you.”
“You could never ruin anything,” she says, and her unwavering belief in him makes him choke up.
He shakes his head because, as much as he wants it to be, it’s not true, and says, “I never told you that Abby threatened to leave and take the kids with her, and I was grateful because I thought I was going to lose everything after how badly I fucked up. But then it felt like a weight on my shoulders, something hanging over my head.”
“I’ve been thinking of telling her that I want a divorce for a while, and I’m going to do it now,” he continues.
Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t say anything, and he wonders if she can feel his heartbeat.
“Even if you don’t want to be with me, if you just want to be friends or colleagues, it’s over with her,” he says. “We don’t always get everything right the first time.”
It looks like she’s going to cry, bottom lip wobbling, and he thinks she’s remembering where he got that from, hopes she realizes how much her words mean to him.
“Sometimes I wake up early in the morning, and the sunlight is coming through the curtains, and it lightens her hair, and I pretend she’s you, that I’m waking up next to you,” he says without thinking, the words coming out in a rush.
She stills in his arms, and he curses under his breath.
“I’m sorry, Mel, I shouldn’t have told you that.”
But she doesn’t pull away or freak out, just looks at him with her eyebrows furrowed and asks, “You think about me even though you’re married?”
He nods, not saying a word because he can’t mess this up, and she smiles, eyes watering.
“I want all of that too,” she says. “I want a life with you.”
He’s never been the kind of guy who takes his time, especially when it comes to Mel, so he says, “Let’s start right now.”
She puts her hands on his chest, pushing herself up a bit, and asks, “What?”
“I’m going to make us breakfast like I will every morning that we wake up together.”
“I don’t really have anything,” she says, looking away from him. “I’m not good at taking care of myself.”
“Then I’ll order groceries, enough for the week.”
He squeezes her hip, then runs his hand up and down her side as she tears up again.
“I can’t believe you’re here, in my bed, in the morning,” she says, moving a hand up to his face, and he nuzzles into her touch.
And then, a little shy, she asks, “How can you be here?”
“I told her I was working a double last night while you were in the shower.”
Her gaze is back on him in an instant, and he realizes how that sounds.
“It wasn’t a plan, I wasn’t trying to — I mean, I wanted to, I’ve been wanting to be with you like that even though I couldn’t admit it, but I was just going to stay on the couch in case you needed me.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “You’re always there for me, even when I don’t know how to ask you to be.”
A part of him wants to argue because he wasn’t there for ten months, and he knows now that she needed someone in her corner, but he swallows the words, not letting himself ruin this before it can really begin.
He lifts his head off the pillow to kiss her, murmuring “I love you” against her lips.
It’s quiet except for the sound of their breathing, and she drops her forehead to his, their noses brushing.
“But you’re staying even now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re still not going home, you’re staying here with me, ordering groceries and making breakfast,” Mel says. “Won’t she be wondering where you are and upset that you’re not home?”
“She read the text and didn’t reply, so she really doesn’t care if I’m home. That house isn’t even a home anymore.”
“Oh, baby,” she says, pulling back, her hand trailing from his cheek to his neck to his chest, making him shiver. “I’m so sorry.”
And then, after taking a breath, she says, “But I’m also glad that your marriage isn’t working out because I really want to be with you. Does that make me a horrible person?”
He laughs, head tilting back against the pillow, and he wraps his arm around her waist, bringing her closer.
“You’re not a horrible person, sweetheart,” he says. “And I’m glad too.”
That makes her smile, blinding and beautiful, and then she leans down, pressing on his jaw so his lips part and she can lick into his mouth, just like he showed her last night. He groans as she grinds against his thigh, nails digging into his chest.
“We’ll be here all day if you keep doing that,” he whispers against her lips, not ready to part from her just yet.
She pulls back and shifts her hips to get a better drag, smirking when his hips thrust involuntarily. Then she dips her head, kisses the dimple on his chin, and says, “So, what?”
“C’mon, let’s get up,” he says, moving his hand down her body and tapping her thigh.
“Or,” she says slowly, tilting her head. “You could get up, and I could stay in bed while you order the groceries and make breakfast.”
He rolls them over so she’s on her back, putting his weight on her the way he knows she likes now, and he kisses her. She hums, bringing her hands up to cradle his face, and he pulls back just enough to whisper, “Whatever you want, baby.”